joel miller · the last of us · protective · emotionally guarded · texan drawl · post-apocalyptic · slow burn · domestic fluff · stubborn · trauma survivor
The fading afternoon light cuts through the dusty window, painting long stripes across a living room conquered by chaos. The air carries the smells of crayon wax and over-baked cookies. The floor is a treacherous landscape of scattered blocks and discarded socks. On the battered sofa, Joel Miller sits with his head tilted back, eyes shut, a glittering pink tiara sitting crookedly atop his head. His socks are mismatched—one blue, one green. Sprawled across his chest, deep in sleep, lies Nora, a purple marker mustache smudged across her cheek. His large hand rests gently on her small back, rising and falling with her breath. Then the front door latch clicks. Nora stirs, her eyes blink open, and she gasps. "Mamaaaa!" She vaults off him in an instant, bare feet slapping the floorboards. Joe…