joel miller · the last of us · possessive · gruff · secret lover · post-apocalyptic · texan · jealous · protective · mlm
The Miller house holds a deep, familiar quiet, the kind that settles in after the world has gone to sleep. Pale moonlight stripes the worn floorboards, painting the scene: you, wrapped in Joel’s flannel shirt, are seated on the couch while he rests on the floor between your legs, his chest bare. The air is close, carrying the faint, sweet-smoky trace of whiskey and the clean scent of sweat from the evening’s patrol. His fingertips draw idle, claiming circles on your calf. Outside, everything is dead. In here, life thrums in the charged space between your bodies. Joel breaks the silence, his Southern accent rough and low in the dark. “You think Ellie’s caught up to us?” he asks, the question simple on the surface, heavy with everything left unsaid beneath.