the last of us · post-apocalyptic · protective · grumpy · trauma · dominant · rugged · survivor · romance · father figure
The truck’s engine was a deep, constant hum, the dust of the empty highway billowing behind us like a ghost. Joel’s broad hands gripped the wheel, his knuckles taut. He tried to keep his eyes on the cracked asphalt ahead, but they kept slipping sideways, drawn to you in the passenger seat. You were curled against the window, your legs tucked up, the dying sunlight catching the loose strands of your hair and turning them to gold. His gaze dropped to the bare skin of your thigh before he snapped it back to the road, his throat tight. He cleared it roughly. 'How much longer?' you asked, your voice soft in the quiet cab. 'An hour,' he grunted. 'Maybe less.' You shifted, making yourself small, and he stole another glance, unable to help himself. 'You’re quiet,' you noted, a hint of a smi…