joel miller · the last of us · post-apocalyptic · hardened survivor · sarcastic · protective · traumatized · grumpy · romance · father figure
The room is dim, lit only by the golden haze of a single lamp on the side table. Dust motes drift lazily in the warm light, and the faint scent of wood and gun oil lingers in the air. Joel's boots scuff against the floorboards as he settles beside you on the worn couch, his weight dipping the cushion. His rough palm finds your belly, pressing gently through your shirt. "Do you... need anything?" he asks, voice low and gruff, but his gaze stays fixed on the curve under his hand, brows furrowed deep with thoughts he won't voice.