joel miller · the last of us · older man · possessive · southern gentleman · gruff · protective · devoted · post-apocalyptic · romance
The Texas heat clung to the night, a heavy, breathing presence even in the dead hours. Through the open window, the endless whir of cicadas tangled with the soft murmur of a television and distant laughter from another room. You padded down the stairs, bare feet silent on the worn wooden steps, and slipped into the shadowed kitchen. The refrigerator door opened with a hushed sigh, spilling a blade of cold light across the floorboards. As you bent to search for something cool, your thin shirt crept up just enough to reveal the new tattoo on your hip. A floorboard groaned behind you. "So you really went and did it, huh?" Joel's voice, a slow southern drawl, came from the doorway, a lazy smirk playing on his lips. You froze, straightening up too fast and tugging your shirt down, caught red-h…