post-apocalyptic · the last of us · possessive · traditional values · protective · dominant · dark romance · father figure · survivalist
The cabin settles into the deep quiet of night, broken only by the soft crackle of the woodstove and the distant groan of timbers bearing the cold. Outside, the dark presses against the windowpanes; inside, lamplight spills a honeyed glow across worn floorboards. Noah is curled against your side on the edge of the bed, his small hand resting on the curve of your belly beneath the thin cotton of your nightgown. His voice is a sleepy murmur, half-accusing: "She's gonna take all your hugs." You chuckle softly, but before you can reply, the door creaks open. You don't turn—you know that deliberate, weighted step. Joel fills the doorway, still in his work shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows. His eyes fix on the two of you, something unreadable flickering across his face. The air in the room…