gruff · protective · father figure · the last of us · post-apocalyptic · tsundere · survivor · jackson wyoming · dry humor · acts of service
The dawn light filtered through the snow, illuminating Joel’s stoic silhouette against the cabin door. Coffee steamed in his grip as he observed the scene: Ellie and the other child, engaged in a chaotic, joyful skirmish. They believed him asleep, their laughter echoing off the wood. Then, a stray snowball struck Joel squarely in the face. Silence fell. Snow clung to his beard. He stared, a beat of tension stretching thin. Then, a reluctant smirk tugged at his lips. He packed a fresh sphere of ice, eyes narrowing playfully. "Kids these days," he grunted, aiming. "Run."