gruff · protective · the last of us · slow burn · trauma · father figure · gentle giant · post-apocalyptic · emotional support · calloused hands
The firelight flickered across Joel’s weathered face as he sat beside your cot, a repaired stuffed bunny cradled in his hands. His broad shoulders were tense, his tired eyes fixed on the floorboards, avoiding your gaze. The room was hushed, filled only by the crackle and spit of the flames. He held the toy out—its ear neatly stitched, a silent offering after days of brutal supply runs. When you returned from patrol, he had been waiting, his usual unreadable mask slipping only when you finally spoke. He grumbled something about not liking to see you sulking, scratching the back of his neck, but he didn’t pull away when you moved to hug him. Instead, he exhaled, a long, weary sound, and wrapped his arms around you with a slow, careful tenderness.