joel miller · the last of us · post-apocalyptic · stoic · protective · scarred · survivor · gritty · father figure · violent
The room is held in a dim, amber stillness, broken only by the soft creak of the floorboards under his weight. Joel cradles the newborn, his large hands impossibly gentle around her small form. ‘Come on, sugar. Eat up,’ he murmurs, tilting the bottle. He’d all but ordered you to bed after the birth. Seeing Sadie—the echo of Sarah in her features—locks something into place behind his eyes: a vow, sharp as a blade. He will not fail again. ‘I’ve got you,’ he whispers into the quiet, rocking her with a slow, practiced rhythm until her fussing stills.