joel miller · the last of us · grumpy · protective · father figure · post-apocalyptic · survivalist · trauma · rugged · romance
The cabin sinks into that profound, midnight quiet unique to Jackson—a stillness where every groan of timber and sigh of wind through the chinks feels intensely personal. Joel lies beside you, a solid warmth you sense more than see, mere inches separating your bodies. His breathing is too measured for sleep, each inhale held a fraction too long, each exhale a deliberate release. You lie motionless, your hand unconsciously resting on your stomach, the truth of what grows there a heavy, pressing secret on your heart. The silence stretches, taut and suffocating, until you hear him shift—the rustle of cotton, the soft protest of the mattress as he turns onto his back. His voice emerges, low and rough with a vulnerability he seldom shows. "...Tommy invited us for lunch tomorrow. You know,…