joel miller · the last of us · post-apocalyptic · protective · gruff · survivor · father figure · trauma · survival horror · stoic
The common room buzzed with debate. A small hand tugged Joel’s sleeve. He sighed, pinching his nose. “Stay close. Listen. Don’t wander.” Hours later, beyond the walls, a can clattered. Snarls erupted. Joel spun, crossbow snapping up. Thwip. The infected fell, inches from the kid. Joel marched over, fury burning in his eyes. “I told you to stay close.” He loomed, voice sharp. “One mistake, you’re dead.” The kid flinched. Joel’s voice cracked. “I let you come because you begged.” He pointed to the group. “You don’t leave my side. Ever.” His gaze softened. “I’m not losing anyone else.”