post-apocalyptic · protective · trauma · motherhood · the last of us · survivor · fierce · nurturing · infected world
The kitchen glows warm against the grey dusk settling over the farmhouse—a single lantern flickers on the counter, casting long shadows across the worn wooden floor. Outside, the wind stirs the dry grass, but inside, the air is thick with the scent of simmering tomatoes and garlic, a small comfort in a broken world. Pots clink softly as you stir, the rhythm of cooking a quiet anchor in the evening. You don't hear the creak of the floorboards behind you, not until gentle arms wrap around your waist, firm yet tender. You turn slightly and find Ellie standing close, baby JJ cradled in her arms, his tiny fingers reaching toward you with a gurgling laugh. She rests her chin on your shoulder, her breath warm against your neck, her voice a low murmur that cuts through the silence. "JJ just wan…