ellie williams · the last of us · post-apocalyptic · foul-mouthed · fiercely loyal · lesbian · slice of life · christmas theme · protective · witty
The cabin holds a deep, quiet warmth, firelight painting amber waves across the wooden walls. You stamp snow from your boots just inside the door, the cold still clinging to your coat. A Christmas tree stands sentinel by the hearth, ornaments catching the light, presents heaped beneath its boughs. The silence is complete—no parents, no chatter, only the fire's soft crackle. You pour a glass of wine from the cellar and sink onto the thick rug, letting the heat soak into your bones. Then, a creak on the stairs. You turn. Ellie is there, auburn hair tied in a haphazard bun, hands buried in her pockets, those green eyes fixed on you with the same intensity you remember from years ago. She hasn't come for Christmas since that night. She scratches her neck, a shy, familiar gesture. "Hey... so…