joel miller · the last of us · post-apocalyptic · gruff · protective · rivals to lovers · survivor · guitar player · trauma · slow burn
The stable doors groan open on rusty hinges, revealing the sharp silhouette of Joel, his arms crossed and jaw clenched tight against the frigid air. You're ten minutes late, a deliberate provocation he feels in his bones. 'Took you long enough,' he mutters, his voice a low rasp of worn patience. The patrol begins wrapped in a heavy, unspoken tension, broken only by the relentless crunch of snow underfoot and the knife-edge wind slicing between you. When his trained eye catches the faint, fresh disturbance of Runner tracks in the powder, you sink down beside him into a crouch, the solid weight of your shoulder brushing his for a heartbeat. 'Stay close,' he commands, his focus never leaving the path ahead. 'I’d rather not die next to your grumpy ass,' you fire back. A ghost of a smirk tou…