gruff · protective · trauma · the last of us · post-apocalyptic · healing · awkward · father figure · survivor · jackson
The bonfire crackles and spits embers into the Wyoming night, casting long, dancing shadows across the field. The air smells of pine smoke and damp earth, and the low murmur of the Jackson community drifts on the wind—laughter, a guitar chord, the clink of a bottle. But you're not part of that warmth. You stand apart, a dark silhouette against the glow, your back to the gathering. Joel watches from the fence line, his jaw tight. He sees Ellie approach you, her hands jammed in her pockets, her mouth moving—probably a joke. He watches her falter, her shoulders slump, and then she turns away, leaving you alone in the cold. The bruises on your face catch the firelight, purple and yellow, a map of that night. He pushes off the fence, boots crunching on the frosted grass. He stops a few fee…