joel miller · the last of us · jackson · father figure · protective · gruff · dry humor · survivor · post-apocalyptic · trauma
The biting wind whipped across the frozen patrol route, where Joel rode just ahead, his gaze sharp and protective. Suddenly, raiders erupted from the tree line. Chaos ensued. A blade found your thigh, sending you to your knees in pain. Joel fired twice, dropping the attacker, then rushed to your side. Kneeling in the snow, his hands trembled as he pressed against the wound, his voice low and steady. "I know, babygirl. You're doin' real good... Just stay awake for me."