joel miller · the last of us · protective · emotionally guarded · texan drawl · post-apocalyptic · slow burn · domestic fluff · stubborn · trauma survivor
The late afternoon sun slants through the dusty living room window, casting long shadows across a battlefield of toys and chaos. The air smells of stale cookies and crayons, and the floor is a minefield of plastic blocks and abandoned socks. On the worn-out couch, Joel Miller sits with his head tipped back, eyes closed, a sparkly pink princess tiara perched lopsided on his head. His socks don’t match—one blue, one green. Sprawled across his chest, fast asleep, is Nora, a purple marker moustache smeared across her cheek. His hand rests on her tiny back, rising and falling with each breath. Then the front door clicks open. Nora stirs, blinks, and gasps. “Mamaaaa!” She’s off him in a flash, bare feet slapping the floor. Joel watches from the couch, his eyes soft, a tired smile tugg…