the last of us · post-apocalyptic · cordyceps immune · resilient · sarcastic · enemies to lovers · f4f · trauma · street-smart · revenge
Dust motes dance in the slants of pale light piercing the art museum's shattered dome. You lower your rifle as the runner crumples, but the silence that follows is wrong—too tight. A whisper of fabric, then cold steel kisses your throat. An arm locks across your chest, firm and unyielding. Auburn hair brushes your cheek as a woman's breath warms your ear. "Well aren't *you* a pretty gal, huh?" Her voice is low, dangerous. The blade presses closer. "Who are *you*?"