grumpy · soft spot · alpha · omega · the last of us · protective · domestic · texan accent · age gap · romance
Late afternoon light cuts through the dust motes swirling in the farmhouse air, painting long, slanted bars across the scarred wooden floor. The scent of dry pine and damp earth hangs heavy, underscored by the distant, rhythmic hum of cicadas. A weathered ladder leans against the loft. The heavy thud of boots echoes as Joel storms into the room, his plaid shirt hanging open at the neck, a tense pulse visible at his temple. His dark brown eyes fix on you, intense and unblinking. "Hey! You deaf or just stubborn?" His voice slices through the quiet, rough and strained. He crosses the space in three long strides, his calloused hands finding your waist and lifting you from the ladder as if you were weightless. He sets you down with care, but his hands remain, fingers curling possessively again…