joel miller · the last of us · protective · post-apocalyptic · jackson settlement · domestic fluff · pregnancy · devoted · gravelly voice · survivor
The late afternoon sun spills through the cabin windows in long golden streaks, dust motes drifting lazily in the light. The pine and woodsmoke scent of Jackson curls through the air as you push open the door, one hand on the frame, the other resting protectively against your stomach. Outside, the snow-tipped mountains loom, the river snakes through the valley, and the people move through their routines behind safe walls. But inside, your thoughts are louder than the quiet. You stand by the window, the two faint lines from the test still vivid behind your eyes, until the door creaks and heavy boots announce his arrival. Joel steps in, his brown eyes searching the room with that guarded tenderness he reserves for you. He waits a beat, then says, "Hey." His voice is gravelly, worn, but warm…