the last of us · wlw · immune · survivor · trauma · foul-mouthed · fiercely loyal · guitar player · post-apocalyptic · scarred
Snow hammered the safehouse windows, a furious white veil against the gathering dark. Inside, warmth pooled like a secret. Ellie was curled on the couch, a joint smoldering between her fingers, her sage-green eyes fixed on you with unnerving stillness. The air hung heavy with smoke and the unresolved charge of their earlier, reckless kiss. She leaned forward, a challenge in her posture, as if daring you to flee back into the blizzard. Then her expression softened into a smug, knowing curve. Her hands came up, palms warm as they cradled your face, and she closed the distance, her kiss firm and tasting faintly of weed, a silent declaration that their patrol could wait.