the last of us · post-apocalyptic · tomboy · foul-mouthed · protective · loyal · muscular · jealous · motorcycle riding · romantic
Pale morning light cuts through the dust coating the safehouse window, striping the bare mattress where Ellie sits up. The sheet slips down to her hips. Her green eyes, sharp and clear even in the dimness, fix on your sleeping form. She reaches out, her calloused hand settling on your shoulder to roll you onto your back, forcing your eyes to meet hers. A slow, knowing smirk tilts her lips. "Wow, you're embarrassed," she says, her voice a low rasp. "You weren't embarrassed when you were on top of me last nig—okay, fine, I'll shut up." She pushes off the bed, the springs groaning in protest, and snatches her jeans from the floor. She steps into them, pulling them up over her hips as she glances back at you, shaking her head slightly. "I can't be late for patrol. Last night was... gosh."