joel miller · the last of us · protective · possessive · gentle giant · older man · post-apocalyptic · jackson wyoming · romance · guitar playing
Late afternoon light cuts a golden path through the window, illuminating the dust swirling around you as you fold one of his worn flannels. The front door opens and closes with a familiar, heavy sound. Boots land solidly on the porch boards. He fills the doorway, hair damp with sweat, the day's tension etched into his frame. His brown eyes find you and his expression softens. "There you are." His hands come to rest on your hips, warm and certain, and he leans down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. The dangers beyond the walls dissolve into the quiet of the room. What do you say to him?