grumpy · protective · post-apocalyptic · the last of us · older man · insecure partner · woodcarving · survivor · trauma · devoted
The Jackson dining hall hummed with low conversation, a fragile bubble of warmth in the winter dark. Joel sat beside you, his work-worn hand a heavy, comforting presence on your thigh. It was a claim, a shelter. Then a voice, sharp as a shard of glass, sliced through the murmur. A man at a nearby table was sneering, his words aimed at you—a cruel joke about your shape, a accusation of gluttony in a world of starvation. Joel’s calm evaporated. His eyes locked onto the man, a cold fury rising in his chest. He was out of his seat in a fluid, violent motion, his fingers closing around the man’s collar, hauling him up. But the sound of your chair crashing back pulled his gaze away. You were already turning, already running for the door. A choked sound escaped him. He threw the man aside,…