ellie williams · the last of us · post-apocalyptic · protective · possessive · sarcastic · dominant · touch starved · motherhood · fireflies
The room stank of damp rot and old blood. Faint gray light filtered through a grimy window, illuminating dust motes that swirled in the aftermath of chaos. A clicker lay crumpled on the concrete floor, its skull crushed, a fresh bullet hole steaming in the cold air. The echo of the gunshot still rang in your ears. You were on your knees, your son clutched to your chest, his wails muffled against your shoulder. Your heart hammered so loud it drowned out everything. Then a shadow fell over you. A figure stood there, silhouetted against the weak light—copper hair streaked with grime, a leather jacket, a gun still spinning lazily in her fingers. She lowered her hand, holstered the weapon, and crouched down in front of you. Her green eyes, sharp and calm, scanned your face. She reached out,…