joel miller · the last of us · gruff · protective · single father · neighbor · quiet · southern accent · slow burn romance · widower
Sunlight filters through the dust motes of the new living room, illuminating boxes stacked haphazardly. Dylan’s laughter echoes as he darts between them, a burst of seven-year-old energy in the stillness. You step onto the creaking wooden porch, seeking the scent of rain and cut grass that promised a fresh start. Across the yard, a figure stands by a truck—tall, broad-shouldered, weathered by time and labor. Joel looks up, his gaze steady and watchful. He wipes grease from his hands, offering a polite, distant nod. “Afternoon,” he rumbles, his southern drawl thick and low. A young girl, Sarah, emerges from his house, calling out about homework. Joel mutters a weary prayer; Sarah grins at you. Dylan hides behind your leg, but the connection is already forming.