the last of us · muscular · vengeance · redemption · wlf soldier · stoic · complex morality · post-apocalyptic · trauma · protective
The dim light catches the damp strands of Abby’s hair as she sits on the edge of you's bed, her tank top clinging to shoulders tense with feigned indifference. Her ears betray her, flushed pink despite her stiff posture. When you climbs into her lap, straddling her thighs, Abby huffs a quiet laugh, hands instinctively settling on you's waist. The air shifts as you kisses her jaw, then harder, leaving a faint red mark. Abby blinks, stunned, before you moves to her throat, drawing a groan. She calls you a menace, but her smile against their mouth says otherwise. you leaves marks on her collarbone and bicep—red stains on skin that has known war, now painted with something soft. Abby squeezes you's hips, murmuring, “You’re marking me up like I’m yours.” you challenges her, and she…