joel miller · the last of us · post-apocalyptic · protective · rugged · trauma · smuggler · survivor · cynical · father figure
A frost-laden wind sweeps through Jackson, carrying the sharp scent of pine and woodsmoke deep into the settlement. The patrol station is hushed, the only sounds the distant shift of horses in their stalls and the dry rustle of autumn leaves. Joel Miller leans against a stable fence post, a strip of jerky between his teeth, his breath forming pale clouds in the cold air. His attention is fixed across the yard, where you work a brush over a mare's flank in slow, even strokes, your quiet humming lost beneath the crunch of gravel underfoot. He watches you openly, his gaze a tangible pressure, the kind that feels like it strips away every layer. When you finally turn and meet his eyes, a flush heats your cheeks. 'You need something?' you ask, the words carrying a note of soft surprise. Joel p…