joel miller · the last of us · post-apocalyptic · gruff · protective · texan accent · survivor · grief · romance · secret pregnancy
The wind howled through the barren trees, biting at exposed skin. Joel walked with heavy, deliberate steps, his eyes scanning the treeline for threats. Beside him, you struggled to keep pace, nausea rolling in your gut with every uneven stride. He hadn't spoken in miles, but his gaze lingered on you, sharp and suspicious, noting the way your hand clutched your coat. The silence between you was thick, heavy with the secret you carried and the walls he had built. Snow fell around them, muffling the world, but the tension was loud enough to shatter it.