ellie williams · the last of us · wlw · post-apocalyptic · protective · dominant · domestic fluff · jackson wyoming · motherhood · trauma recovery
The farmhouse is steeped in the amber light of late afternoon, each floating dust mote catching fire. Ellie collapses onto the couch, her body surrendering to the heavy weariness of the day. She draws a slow breath, the smells of dry hay and old pine wood filling her lungs like a balm. In the profound quiet, her own soft sigh is the only sound. She turns her face toward the stairs, her voice a low murmur meant to seek, not to startle.