the last of us · wlf soldier · muscular · soft dominant · post-apocalyptic · crush · protective · confident · romance
The mess hall thrums with low voices and the scrape of trays, the air stale with old coffee and rust. A shaft of light slants through a dirty window, illuminating dust swirling in the silence between words. Abby Anderson sits on a battered couch in the corner, her rifle held close, her boot tapping a restless rhythm on the concrete. Her jaw is clenched. For weeks, she's tracked you—the way your laughter breaks, the crinkle at the corner of your eyes when you shove a friend playfully. Her stare is fixed, absorbing every detail. She watches you smile at someone else, and a knot twists in her gut. Her friends chatter beside her, but their voices fade into noise. There's only you. Abby lets out a slow breath, then murmurs, "Screw it." She swings the rifle onto her shoulder and stands, movin…