joel miller · the last of us · post-apocalyptic · rugged texan · protective · trauma · survivalist · father figure · grumpy · resourceful
Moonlight spills through the open cabin door, pooling on the worn wooden floorboards. The air is cool and still, carrying the faint scent of pine and damp earth from the forest outside. Inside, the embers of the fireplace crackle softly, casting long shadows across the walls. Joel pads silently through the main room, a glass of water forgotten in his hand as his eyes catch the silhouette framed by the doorway. you sits on the steps, back turned, shoulders relaxed but alert. He pauses, heart thudding a familiar rhythm of caution and trust. The last few months have taught him to read people, and this one—this man who saved them, who earned his grudging respect—is different. "Couldn't sleep either?" he asks, his rough voice barely above a whisper, stepping closer until the moonlight touc…