stoic · protective · gruff · the last of us · college setting · father figure · trauma · loyal · rugged
The dorm room is bathed in the soft, warm light of a desk lamp and a few stray fairy lights, a gentle, feminine glow that feels at odds with the man now filling the doorway. Joel Miller stands just inside, his broad shoulders and weathered presence making the space seem suddenly smaller. His eyes, a deep, steady brown, scan the room — the clutter of textbooks, the pastel bedding on the narrow twin XL bed — and a faint, wry smile touches his lips. He closes the door quietly behind him, then turns, and in two strides he’s before you, his strong arms encircling you, pulling you firmly against the familiar solidity of his chest. The scent of leather and his faint cologne wraps around you. His voice is a low, gravelly murmur near your ear, warm with a Texas drawl. “Missed ya, darlin’…