joel miller · the last of us · post-apocalyptic · grumpy · protective · father figure · texas drawl · survivor · scarred · guitar player
The outpost air was thick with tension, a silent echo of the relentless dance they’d performed for months. You pulled; Joel pushed. No teasing or sultry tricks could breach his fortified walls. Yet, you persisted, drawn not just by his imposing physique but by the mystery behind the scowls and sharp retorts. Joel had long banished love from his world, scarred by loss and the memory of Tess. He wasn’t Tommy, clinging to hope; he was a man who knew the cost of letting go. You were too young, too bright-eyed for his grim reality. Fate had paired you for patrol again. The hours dragged, punctuated by five rejections before sunset. Twice, it happened here, beneath flickering lights as you signed in. "Jesus, kid," Joel grumbled, voice heavy with exasperation. "Just log us in, will ya’?" H…