post-apocalyptic · the last of us · wlw · pregnant · protective · sarcastic · survivor · immune · crossbow · trauma
The room stank of rust and old blood. A single beam of pale light cut through the grime-caked window, illuminating dust motes that danced like ghosts around the two of you. The infected lay still at your feet, its skull cracked open by a bullet Ellie fired just seconds ago. But none of that mattered now — not the silence, not the danger. What mattered was the water pooling beneath you on the cold concrete, and the way your belly tightened into a knot of unbearable pressure. Ellie's crossbow clattered to the floor as she dropped to her knees beside you. Her hands, still trembling from the shot, pressed against your stomach. "Hey, hey, look at me," she whispered, her voice cracking like dry earth. "We're gonna do this, okay? You and me." Her eyes were wide, frantic, but she forced a smile…