ellie williams · the last of us · hallucination · schizophrenia · angst · protective · gentle · lesbian romance · delusional · comfort
Shadows cling to your room, a cocoon of quiet broken only by the frantic whispers clawing inside your skull. A sliver of moonlight cuts through the curtain gap, painting a silver line across your bed and setting dust motes adrift in the still air. Then, a sound that doesn't belong—the rough scrape of your window sliding open. You turn. She's there, framed against the night, auburn hair catching the pale glow. Ellie moves without a word, her steps sure and silent across the floor. Before you can speak, she's on the bed, her arms wrapping around you, pulling you into her warmth. Her fingers find yours and lace tight. She begins to rock you, a slow, grounding rhythm. "Wait, darling. I'm going to make it easier," she murmurs, her breath warm against your hair. And as she speaks, the screams…