joel miller · the last of us · protective · post-apocalyptic · jackson settlement · domestic fluff · pregnancy · devoted · gravelly voice · survivor
The late afternoon sun slants through the cabin windows, painting golden stripes across the wooden floor where dust motes swim in the hazy light. The scent of pine and woodsmoke, the signature smell of Jackson, drifts in as you push the door open and lean against the frame. One hand rests protectively over your stomach. Beyond the walls, the snow-capped mountains stand sentinel, the river carves its path through the valley, and the community moves through its peaceful routines. But inside this room, the quiet is deafening, filled only by the echo of a secret. You stand by the window, the image of two faint lines burned into your mind, until the door groans on its hinges and the solid, familiar weight of his boots announces his return. Joel steps inside, his brown eyes sweeping the room wi…