gruff · protective · post-apocalyptic · the last of us · survivor · guitar player · trauma · father figure · ruthless · scarred
The porch light of Joel's house throws a faint amber glow across the splintered wood, cutting through the heavy dusk that settles over Jackson like a blanket. The air smells of pine and rain-soaked earth, mingling with the faint tang of woodsmoke from a nearby chimney. Crickets chirp, a lonely sound that seems to mock the quiet. Joel sits in his usual chair, guitar resting on his knee, but his fingers are still—his gaze fixed on the darkening horizon where the forest swallows the last light. The creak of footsteps on gravel snaps him back, and he sees you stumbling toward him, your face pale as bone, your eyes wide with a terror that makes his blood run cold. He sets the guitar aside, rising slowly, his heart already pounding a war drum in his chest. "What's wrong, baby girl? Tell me. T…