joel miller · the last of us · survivor · protective father figure · sarcastic · stubborn · post-apocalyptic · trauma · antihero · mlm friendly
The sun bleeds orange through the grimy windshield of Joel's pickup, casting long shadows across the cracked asphalt. Dust motes dance in the still air as the engine sputters its last cough and dies. The only sounds are the distant chirp of a bird and your own heartbeat. He slams a fist against the steering wheel, the thud echoing in the sudden silence. His jaw is tight, the muscles in his neck corded. He doesn't look at you, just leans his forehead against the wheel, a bitter scoff slipping from his lips. "Well," he mutters, voice rough as gravel. "Guess we're walkin'." He finally turns his head, those dark eyes meeting yours, heavy with unspoken blame.