rocketrhap3000 - Tumblr blog

rocketrhap3000 · 5 months

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naptime

summary: sweet fluffy domestic drabble, fic 1/2 of dad!joel as requested by this anon :)

warnings: pregnant reader, jackson era, pure fluff!

masterlist here

Around four-thirty in the evening, just when the golden hour of the premature autumn sunset has peaked, you hear the front door open and shut gently, followed by the steady thumps of footsteps against the hardwood flooring: Joel is home for the night.

“Darlin’? M’home,” comes his tired voice, aching for some downtime and to share some gentle affection with you.

He’s been working nearly double his usual load around Jackson because he knows he’s going to get time off to help you out at home once your second little one is born, and being the dedicated and hardworking man he is, he feels he has to make up for it now.

So, he leaves before sunrise and is usually gone all day, and when you weren’t as pregnant as you are now, you’d see him occasionally throughout the day while you were working, too. You’d drop your son off at Jackson’s daycare while you went to your job. But once your mobility became restricted, Maria nearly forced you to take time off for the foreseeable future.

Admittedly, it was hard at first: being home alone with your son, feeling stuck in the house, and waiting impatiently for Joel’s return. Now, though, with how tired and sore you are all the time, you’re grateful to not have any work obligations. Missing Joel during the day is still a daily struggle, though.

“Living room,” you call out in response, and you hear his footsteps grow closer. You go to stand up from your spot on the couch to greet him, but he makes his way around the corner just in time to see you struggling to stand up with the swell of your belly at nearly eight months along.

“Darlin’, stay stay stay,” Joel urges softly, rushing over to you. You look back at him and laugh, almost stuck in the position until he helps you back down, then takes a seat beside you.

“Thank you,” you giggle, and seeing your smile is all his heart needs to be uplifted from a long day away from you.

“Mm, missed you,” he whispers, kissing you slowly and sweetly while gently rubbing his hand over your bump.

“Missed you too, Handsome,” you reply, gazing into his tired eyes.

“How are you? Feelin’ any better?” he asks, knowing you were up with an awful migraine and nausea all through the night which he had to help you with, and felt awful that he had to leave early this morning. He then slings an arm around you and brings you in closer to him, while his other hand rests protectively on your belly.

“Much better,” you hum. “How are you?”

“I’m beat,” he chuckles.

“Well you were up and out of the house before five this morning. I can understand why,” you laugh lightly, placing a hand to rest on his bearded cheek, stroking your thumb over his lips.

“I’m just so glad to be off and home with you for the weekend,” he replies, then turns his head to kiss your palm. “Where’s Oliver?”

“Upstairs, napping,” you smile, taking your hand off his cheek and instead resting your head on his shoulder with a content sigh

“I could go for a nap right about now, too,” he says with a soft chuckle.

“Go right ahead,” you encourage, sitting up and scooching forward on the couch to initiate getting up. “I was just about to start dinner before you walked in.”

“No no no, Darlin’,” he refuses, gently pulling you to lean back against the couch. “I don’t want you up on your feet.”

“Joel, it’s really okay. I feel so much better than this morning and I’ve been resting all day,” you insist.

“You’ve been with the toddler form of the Energizer Bunny all day,” he jokes, softly running his hand over your cheek, then cupping your face in his large palm.

“He wasn’t too crazy today, actually,” you admit honestly, laughing a little bit at the thought of your overly energetic eighteen month old son.

“That’s good. But I still want you to rest,” he insists firmly, then pulling you in for a slow, soft kiss.

“I’ve been resting all day,” you whisper softly as your lips part from his. “Now it’s your turn, Mr. Miller. You deserve a nap,” you tell him as you attempt to stand up from the couch, but his hands keep you close to him.

“Nap with me?” he asks meekly. And you simply can’t resist the invitation.

The pair of you somehow manage to fit comfortably on the couch together despite Joel’s sheer size, and the size of your belly. But where there’s a will, there’s a way; Joel lays down and settles behind you, cradling your body against his front before pulling a throw blanket off the top of the couch and spreading it over your entangled bodies. You both fall asleep way too quickly, and it feels so nice to be together once again.

Only about half an hour passes before you stir awake for some reason. You hear and feel the soft rumble of Joel’s snores from behind you; it’s clear he needed a nap more than you did. Then, as if your mother’s intuition was what woke you, you hear Oliver start to fuss from his room upstairs, signaling he has napped long enough.

You quietly, gently lift Joel’s heavy arm and the blanket off your body and slip out of his grasp to stand up slowly and make your way up to your son’s room.

Opening the door, you find him standing in his crib, dark locks of hair adorably mussed, and big, hazel eyes shimmering from between the bars.

“Hi, Ol,” you greet softly, reaching into the crib to lift him up.

“Mama,” he babbles as you brush the hair out of his face and kiss his cheek.

"How was your nap, sweet boy?" you ask, and he yawns and rubs his eyes in response.

“Papa,” he then says, holding his arms out as if to ask where Joel is.

“Papa is downstairs. He’s having a nap, too. Wanna wake him up for dinner?” you ask and he nods to answer.

You carry him up until you get to the stairs, knowing that he’s sill pretty light, but you shouldn’t be lifting him down the steps since you’ve not been feeling the best. Instead, you set him down on his own two feet, and he grabs your hand and the two of you waddle down the stairs, one step at a time, to find Joel still passed out on the couch.

Oliver runs through the living room until he finally makes it in front of his sleeping father. He looks back to you for encouragement and you stand near the couch to watch his interaction with Joel.

“Papa,” Oliver says quietly, not loud enough to stir Joel awake.

He looks up at you again and you nod and smile, encouraging him to keep at it.

"Papa," Oliver repeats, slightly louder this time, as his tiny hand gently taps Joel's large one a few times.

That pulls Joel out of his sleep just enough for him to open his eyes for a second, finding his son standing in front of him.

“Oh, hi, Buddy,” Joel greets sleepily, making his kiddo giggle, before he lifts him up and coddles him to his chest. “How was your nap? Mama and I had a good nap too,” he then says, shifting to a sitting position with Oliver on his lap as you sit back down beside both of them on the couch.

"So, what are we thinking for dinner?" you ask Joel, nuzzling into his side.

“I say dinner can wait,” Joel states with a sigh as he slings an arm around you as you laugh lightly and shake your head at his statement.

“Joel, you’ve had a long day,” you reason. “You need some food.”

“I think nothing but some scraps of leftovers would suffice right about now, Darlin’,” he chuckles, then kisses your temple. “But for now, I just need this moment to last a little longer.”

“I think that’s a great idea,” you agree and smile, leaning into Joel and enjoying the simplicity of togetherness.

a/n: this is old fic rewritten for joel because i just loved the concept so much :) thank you so much for reading! reblogs and feedback are so greatly appreciated and help out your fave writers more than you know 💘

taglist below, link in pinned post to be added!

@pedropascalmylove @caplanbuckybarnes @auberosier @shesaidashamed @midgardianminx @hungrhay @mashomasho @fanofverymanythings @laufeyzlut @gvfslayallday @pastelnap @blub-senpai @alwaysdjarin @jesslove23-blog @balekanemohafe @alexxavicry @cilliansangel @spideysimpossiblegirl @anony-muse @darleneslane @nsuiswitch @joeldjarin @taz-97

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fluff #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us #tlou #pedro pascal

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rocketrhap3000 · 5 months

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on pinterest, search your name + core. post six pictures. tag six people. tagged by @guess-my-next-obsession !!

this is so much fun, pinterest is literally my most used “social media” app and i didn’t even know this was a thing! not gonna tag anyone in particular but if you see this post, consider yourself tagged 💕

#this is 100% myself as an aesthetic #i’m in love #my pinterest knows me so well #please tag me if anyone does this!#i wanna see all your fun aesthetics 🤍#tag game

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rocketrhap3000 · 5 months

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THE MANDALORIAN (2019-) Chapter 13: The Jedi

#sweet baby #his widdle face 🥹#he’s like omg dad is proud of me !!!!!#the mandalorian #pedro pascal

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rocketrhap3000 · 5 months

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#4 years ago today Chapter 1: The Mandalorian (November 12, 2019)

#green bean baby 🥹#the mandalorian #pedro pascal

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rocketrhap3000 · 6 months

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i am BEGGING you to make another post about dad!joel it was so beautiful :’)

oh dear anon! i absolutely adore the idea of dad!joel and i have a few other pieces in the works for him that i just need to finish up! i hope to get at least one out within a week or so :) thank you for the love 💕

#answered #anon #joel miller

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rocketrhap3000 · 6 months

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serendipitous

summary: you have undeniable, unrequited feelings for joel miller, yet you keep denying them. when you run into joel one night while out with someone you don't even like, conflict ensues.

warnings: jackson!era, a few swears, grumpy joel, stubborn joel, reader goes on a date with an asshole, brief!!! mention of an (unspecified) age gap between reader and joel, angsty angst but quickly resolved i promise :)

masterlist here

The creak of the door closing behind you lets you know there’s no turning back. Feeling overwhelmed already with the buzzing sound of chattering folks all around you, you make your way further into the Tipsy Bison to look for your company for the evening - a guy named Trevor, who you met a few weeks ago when you got put on the same patrol shift together.

All the other times you’ve been on patrol, your partner has been Joel Miller, and you’ve had absolutely no complaints - other than the fact that the man barely spoke a word to you the first time you met him five years ago. Naturally, though, the longer you spent with him, the more you both opened up to each other, making for a fun, new, budding friendship for you within the Jackson walls. What you haven’t opened up to Joel about, however, though, are your true feelings towards him.

Joel Miller is perfect in every way. He’s quite literally the only man you feel one hundred percent safe around, and he’s the only person here in Jackson you’ve really connected with. Every day you spend with him, you wish you were bold enough to make a move.

You know your feelings toward Joel won't stop any time soon, and you don’t even know why you agreed to go out with Trevor. He’s cocky and arrogant, yet cowardly and selfish, and definitely is just not your type; Joel is everything Trevor isn’t.

Much to your dismay, however, you know nothing can come of you and Joel, even if he was interested in you. Although the tension between the two of you is thick, you’ve convinced yourself it’s one sided. Surely his gruff, protective, and sometimes even flirtatious manners are just part of who he is. You’re positive he sees you as nothing more than a friend, or worse - some helpless woman he feels obligated to protect because she’s younger and weaker than him.

As you scan the busy room, you hear your name called from a relatively familiar voice. And when you look in the direction of the call, your eyes fall on your date, and your stomach drops.

You’d much rather be looking for Joel tonight.

It seems like forever before you realize you need a break from listening to Trevor drawl on about himself. You’ve zoned out and resorted to a fake smile and insincere nods, feigning interest in his obvious self-obsession.

But eventually, he asks a question that pulls you from your boredom like no other.

“Do you wanna get out of here?”

“What?” you ask, wondering if you’ve heard him correctly.

He cannot be serious. Does he really think talking about himself for an hour straight and not bothering to ask a single thing about you has convinced you to go home with him?

“You heard what I said. Let’s get outta here,” he smirks, and you have to bite your tongue to hold back from laughing.

“Trevor, we just met a few weeks ago.” you chuckle awkwardly, surprised at how forward he’s being.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t show you a good time,” he winks, and you have to stifle back a physical cringe at his failed attempt to be suave.

You smile uncomfortably, then stand up from your seat. “I’m gonna grab a refill” you tell him, making your way over to the bar.

Once away from your jackass of a date, you feel like you can finally breathe.

“Can I just get another water, please?” you ask the bartender behind the counter, but instead of hearing their response, you feel a sense of relief when you hear a familiar voice speak your name, instead.

However, that feeling of relief doesn’t last long, once your eyes fall on a sight that makes you sick to your stomach.

Joel is seated at the bar down a little ways, but with a woman beside him, her hand on his arm as she clearly tries to woo him. And not only that, but she’s gorgeous: flowing locks of dirty blonde hair frame her face perfectly, her plump, pink lips whisper little flirtations, and her pair of sparkling blue eyes are just beckoning him to her bedroom. Of course, you’re too distracted by her beauty and your jealousy to realize how uninterested Joel is in her advances.

“(Y/n), hi,” he repeats, and when you turn to meet Joel, the woman beside him seems to give up on her flirting as she gets up and walks away for the time being.

“Joel, what are you doing here?”

“Could ask you the same thing,” he replies lowly with a tilt of his head.

“Just… getting drinks with someone,” you shrug.

“Yeah?” he questions, not fully convinced. “Everything okay over there?”

“Yeah, why?” you feel the need to defend yourself, as if you need to convince Joel you’re doing okay, although you know that you’d much rather be with him for the night.

“You sure? He doesn’t strike me as the kind you’d hang around, Darlin’,” Joel replies, honestly meaning no harm.

“And you’d know that how?” you reply sarcastically, trying to cover up the fact that the nickname he calls you gives you the biggest rush of butterflies. “It’s just a date, Joel. It doesn’t mean anything,” you roll your eyes.

“I know it’s just… I saw you when I walked in. You just seem kind of uncomfortable. Wanna make sure you’re okay,” he reasons.

“I’m fine,” you snap back, suddenly feeling angry at Joel for some reason, although you know his intentions are good. But even briefly seeing Joel in the company of another woman sets you off, especially now that he’s trying to make it seem like he cares about you, when you know he doesn't think of you as anything other than a friend, at best.

“Darlin’,” he starts, but you interrupt him.

“Joel, I don’t need you watching over me like I’m some teenager out past curfew. I can hold my own,” you shake your head disapprovingly before grabbing your water from the bar, then brushing past him to return to Trevor.

“I didn't mean... M’sorry,” he mumbles in return, almost too late for you to hear as you walk away. But you catch it. And the sadness in his tone sticks with you for the rest of the night.

Joel’s heart breaks right then and there. All he wants is to help you and protect you - it’s just his nature. But seeing you with another guy, and one that he knows could never satisfy or take care of you the way he could - if he would ever buck up the courage to express to you how he feels - fills him with such an unbridled, unjustified rage.

He makes it his mission to keep a close eye on him for the rest of the night, although he feels guilty for invading your privacy. Then again, you’re in a public space, and Joel just has a feeling it’s the right thing to do. He knows that kid well enough to know he’s nothing but bad news.

Another half hour passes, and Joel’s female friend hasn’t returned to him, much to his content, - and yours, if you could only swallow your pride to look over at him to see that. Instead, he’s kept himself busy with listening in on your conversation and peering over every now and again, where he notices Trevor’s slight advances towards you, which are clearly unwanted.

He knows you’re a strong, independent woman, and he doesn’t want to overstep. But his instincts - and his anger - take over the second he sees the asshole’s hand slip from the table to your thigh and your face drops, a tell-tale sign you’re extremely uncomfortable. He can’t stand to see you in this situation.

“(Y/n),” he calls your name as he makes quick strides over to meet you, and your head spins in the direction of his voice for the second time tonight.

“Joel?” you reply breathily, both shocked by his presence but also grateful that it has seemingly scared Trevor’s hand off your thigh.

“Front door lock still giving you trouble?” he asks with a tilt of his head, hinting to you subtly he wants to talk in private. And though he knows the excuse is quick and not the best, he hopes you’ll catch on.

“What?” you stand up from the table, making your way out of earshot from Trevor, while ushering Joel back with a hand on his chest - and trying your best to ignore the way his rugged muscles feel beneath your palm.

“Do you need help?” he asks quietly, once the two of you are far enough away.

And even though your heart swells at the thought of Joel being so protective over you, it angers you for the same reason. Your hand falls from his chest and you shake both hands down at your sides.

“N-no,” you stammer feebly.

“You sure?” Joel asks like he did earlier, and for some reason, the genuine care and concern in his voice makes you even angrier.

“Yes,” you snap back, then swallow nervously as you grab your jacket from the back of your chair. “I was just leaving.”

Leaving both of the men behind you as you book it for the door, Joel’s heart aches at the sight of you walking out, knowing he’s just blown it with you.

“How you doin’, man?” Trevor slurs, clearly well past his limit, which could partially explain why he had been so bold towards you.

“Fuck off,” comes Joel’s grumble of a reply, heading out the doors, too.

But instead of following you out, like his instincts tell him to, he heads straight for his own house, where he sulks up to his bedroom and overthinks every moment of tonight.

Joel doesn’t sleep a wink that night.

Or the next night.

Or the night after that.

Three days pass before he anticipates seeing you again, when you’re scheduled to be on patrol together, and he’s a nervous wreck from the minute he gets up at four-thirty that morning to meet you by the post at five.

The sun is barely up by the time he gets there, where Tommy is waiting for him, but you’re nowhere to be found, which makes Joel’s already nervous heart sink to the ground.

His mind goes to the worst thoughts. Are you still on the schedule? Did you ask to be switched off after the night at the bar? Do you hate him now?

“Morning,” Tommy greets with a yawn.

“Morning,” Joel grumbles back. “What time is it?”

“Ten to. Why? Got somewhere else to be?” Tommy snarks back.

“No. Where’s (Y/n)?”

“How should I know?”

“Well, ain’t she my partner today? She’s normally here by now,” Joel explains gruffly.

“Maybe she’s on her way. Don’t matter, though. I’ll go out with you if she doesn’t show in time,” Tommy reasons, which is not what Joel wants to hear.

Luckily for Joel, you show up just one minute till five, and Joel is right; that is much later than you normally show up. But you sulked just as much as Joel did on the way here at the thought of seeing him again after your little dispute.

You’re embarrassed, but also eager to see him again; you want nothing but to apologize and make up, but also to stand your ground and stay angry at him. It’s all so confusing.

Shortly after Tommy gives you the radios, supplies, and a quick update, you and Joel head out on patrol, but not before you receive some extra ridiculing from Tommy about “someone needing her beauty sleep”. What Tommy doesn’t know is that you got just as much sleep as Joel had these past few nights, instead laying anxiously in bed thinking about seeing the man again.

Joel takes the lead as the two of you head off, neither of you saying a word for the fifteen minute trip out, and for the first ten minutes at the first lookout post.

“Morning,” Joel finally speaks up with his back to you as you look out on opposite sides of the vast landscape surrounding Jackson’s walls, long after you thought the entire patrol shift would be endless hours of silent agony and tension between the two of you.

“Good morning,” you reply cordially, but with no real emotion behind your words.

You’re not sure where you stand with Joel now after the situation at the bar just a few nights ago, and that hurts more than you can say. You’re mad at him but you’re also dying for his attention and affection more than usual. But you doubt he wants to talk to you after you snapped at him for simply trying to help you.

For so long, ever since you’d come to Jackson nearly five years ago, Joel was a safe place and your friend, above all else. But as soon as your little crush developed into something more, you knew it was something you would struggle with, especially with the way Joel treats you with such kindness and gentleness. You just couldn’t help falling for him the way that you did.

Another beat of silence passes; the only sounds to be heard are the quiet rustling of leaves and the chirping of the early morning birds. The beginning of the sunrise around you casts a golden hue on Joel’s stunning hazel eyes, and you’re almost too mesmerized by their beauty that you nearly miss when he starts to speak up again.

“Listen, I’m really sorry… About the other night,” Joel says after another few moments.

“It’s fine,” you shrug, feeling your heart beat nearly triple in speed at the pending conversation. You could not be more grateful that he initiated it, because you wouldn’t have known where to start. “I really do appreciate you helping me out of that. I’m, uh… I’m really sorry for being so rude.”

“I interrupted your date, Darlin’. You had every right to be rude,” he says softly, turning around to face you, and you mirror his actions at the same time. “I just worry about you, y'know?”

Your heart aches hearing those words leave his lips, but those feelings from that night are coming back to you now, and you’re starting to grow upset again. The whole situation has your brain muddled into a mess like no other.

“It wasn’t a date,” you turn away from him again as you mutter falsely in frustration both at yourself for even agreeing to go out with him, and at Joel’s stubbornly caring personality.

“I thought you said it was… just a date,” he returns with the echo of your own words from that night, clearly confused.

“I… I mean, it was a date. But not in that way,” you try to explain.

“Not in what way?”

“I don’t… Joel, I'm not interested in Trevor,” you sigh, turning around to face him for a second time.

“Why’d you go out with him, then?” he pushes further, and though his tone is soft, it comes off a lot more accusatory than he means for it to.

“I–” you start, but realize just how upset he’s making you. “I don’t have to answer that. Why should you care, anyways? You have… Blondie, don’t you?” you bark back, and it upsets you how immature you sound, like a jealous teenage girl.

“Blond… Huh?” Joel shakes his head as he struggles to understand you. “(Y/n), what in the hell are you talkin’ about?”

“I mean, that girl with you the other night couldn’t keep her hands off of you. You’ve got her, so why do you care about who I’m seeing?”

“What? (Y/n), that was just one of Maria’s... friends, I think. I didn’t even get her name. She was just very drunk. We are definitely not together.”

“Well, maybe you should tell her that. She was all over you, so I really don’t think you had the right to come up to me as if I was doing something wrong,” you spew out your anger through a sentence that doesn’t really even make sense.

“You weren’t doing anything wrong,” he shakes his head sincerely, try to understand what you've said while taking a hesitant step towards you. “I was just tryin' to help you. M'sorry.”

“But why do you even care? Pretending like you care! Pretending like I mean something to you when I know you don't see me as anything other than someone you have to look out for, out of obligation, and I know you have no intentions of being anything more!” you exclaim back, completely disregarding the twinge of pain in Joel’s voice he’d just let slip out as you place both of your hands on his chest and give him a good shove away from you.

“(Y/n), I like you!” he finally shouts, still staggering backwards from the force of your little push.

But the second those words blurt from his lips, Joel wishes he would have just stayed in bed this morning.

Nothing Tommy would have yelled at him for sleeping in and missing a shift would even begin to compare to the embarrassment of what he’s feeling right now.

He wants the ground to open up beneath him and swallow him whole so that you never have to see his face ever again.

“What?” you speak back breathlessly after a moment’s pause, needing to hear him again because you’re not even sure if you heard him correctly. Surely you must be hallucinating.��

“Please don’t make me say it again,” he sighs shakily, turning away from you and indirectly confirming what you’d hoped he’d said.

“Joel,” you whisper, finding the courage to reach out and place a gentle, trembling hand on his broad shoulder, quite the opposite of how you’d pushed him away just seconds before.

He only responds with a quiet, reluctant hum.

“Please look at me,” your voice can barely be heard.

And he fulfills your gentle request, turning back around to you, cheeks red with embarrassment.

“M’so sorry,” he rasps, shaking his hung head.

“You have no reason to be sorry,” you say softly, then swallow nervously before continuing. “I… I like you, too, Joel,” you admit, and he looks up at you again, a small, barely-there smile drags onto his lips at your confession.

“You don’t have to say that just to make me feel better,” he scoffs lightly, using the tip of his boot to nervously scuff up some dirt from the ground.

“I’m not,” you insist. “Can’t you just accept someone’s affections?”

“Not when they're yours,” he smiles sadly and gives his head a slow shake.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” your voice breaks, hating how you feel cared for but also rejected by him, all at once.

“You’re… We can’t… Darlin’, I—” he stammers, but you boldly interrupt him.

“Joel, just say it!” you exclaim almost hysterically.

“Alright!” he shouts back, clearly struggling with the vulnerability of the situation. “I just… You’re just enough younger than I am that I never would have thought you’d find me attractive,” he states nervously.

"Well, first, believe me, I find you attractive, Joel," you let out a quiet, shy laugh.

“Still grapplin' with that," he shakes his head and lets out a short chuckle of his own.

"And second, I’m very much an adult, Joel. We both are. The years between us mean little to nothing when the whole goddamn world is falling apart anyways,” you state with a small laugh. "Besides, I don't think anyone here in Jackson has the right to judge anyone else for what they're doing with their life. Have you seen some of the idiots that managed to settle here?"

"I suppose you're right," he laughs. "But then I guess I just thought, even on the off chance that you did reciprocate my feelings... Well, I was worried about what everyone ‘round here would say if we were together.”

“What do you mean?” you ask hesitantly, and he sighs reluctantly in response.

“Darlin', we're complete opposites. I’m the... lone wolf. You’re a social butterfly. Some folks here still hate me for what they’ve heard about me, and rightfully so. But you...” he then scoffs softly just to himself. “Darlin', Everyone adores you. I don’t think there’s a single person who could have one bad thing to say about’cha. We couldn't be more different if we tried.”

“Again," you start with a laugh. "I don't think anyone in Jackson has the right to judge us, Joel. And, so what if we’re different? Opposites attract, y’know,” you playfully nudge him.

“Clearly,” he chuckles softly, putting a smile on your face. "I guess I was just too stubborn to even let myself entertain the thought of askin' you out."

"I wish you would've," you giggle. "I've been doing it for too long, myself. Every time I see you, I have to hold myself back from making a reckless move. I was afraid I was nothing more than some annoying, inexperienced patrol partner you have to look out for."

“You're so much more than that, Darlin'. C’mere,” he then mumbles as he sets his gun down and takes yours from you, too, leaning them both up against the railing of the edge.

Then, he’s opening his arms as an invitation for you to enter them, and when you do, it’s the best sensation you’ve ever felt.

Joel Miller is a broad, sturdy man, but he’s somehow simultaneously so unbelievably soft, and you feel so safe in his arms, despite the literal threats of the world around you that you’re supposed to be looking out for at present.

“M’sorry for all this,” he chuckles, squeezing you tighter. “F’I hadn’t been such a stubborn old man, as Ellie says, I'm sure we could’ve avoided months of this confusion.”

“I agree with Ellie,” you laugh, pulling your head off his chest only to look up at him, admiring the way the orange highlights of the early sunrise make his eyes sparkle. “But if we had skipped all those months, then I wouldn’t have gotten this incredible hug, right now,” you tease with a laugh.

“Oh, Darlin’, you would’ve gotten a lot more than a hug by now,” he taunts you right back. “And I’d love to show you how much we’ve missed out on, but if Tommy finds out we were doin’ all this… canoodlin’... I’m afraid he’d never let us go out on patrol together again,” Joel laughs softly, then lets you go, handing you back your gun.

“It’d be worth it, though,” you say with a smile, then lean up onto the tips of your toes to press a dainty kiss to his scruffy cheek before heading down from the post to start on the patrol route before Joel can even register what you’ve done.

Pausing in your tracks then turning to look behind you when you don’t hear footsteps following you, you catch a glimpse of the man; hand just brushing over the spot on his cheek where your lips were, sporting a cherry red complexion in stark contrast to his silvery locks of hair and lush beard framing his face.

“Hey, old man,” you tease, placing a hand on your hip. "You comin' or what?"

“Right behind ya, Darlin’,” he shakes his head and scoffs at you as he slings his gun back over his shoulder where it belongs.

For as bold as he was just moments earlier, mentioning all the other things you could have done besides hugging, you know deep down, he's painfully shy, and such a softie. And you wouldn't have it any other way.

a/n: i love a good angst to fluff/kinda enemies to lovers trope lol dividers by @inklore !! thank you so much for reading! reblogs and feedback are so greatly appreciated and help out your fave writers more than you know 💘

Joel / Pedro taglist below, link in pinned post to be added :)

#joel miller #the last of us #joel miller x reader #tlou #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal

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rocketrhap3000 · 6 months

Text

sweet creature

requested: hello!! could you please write about domestic fluff with one of pedro's characters! i know you may have to make it an AU/change his character a bit but I would love love love to see some fluffy dad!Joel. Thank you so much!

warnings: jackson era, dad!Joel, mentions of birth/pregnancy complications, pure pure fluff!

find my main masterlist here

Turning over in bed, you wake up, not really knowing why you can’t simply stay asleep. The space of the bed surrounding you feels icy and vacant, and when you reach over to cuddle up with Joel's body heat, you realize why you’re chilled and awake: he’s not there beside you.

Sighing, you rotate back over and push yourself up just enough to look over into the bathroom, but he’s not there, either. You start to worry as you turn your head back to let your eyes scan the darkness of the room.

Finally, your eyes land on Joel, in a cross-legged seated position and looking at your sleeping son through the bars of the crib. You smile and slide out of bed quietly, taking the few steps over to the newborn and his father.

“Joel,” you whisper, letting your hands fall on your husband’s shoulders.

The tiny baby is sleeping deeply and contently in his crib, handmade by Tommy and Maria as a gift; the steady rise and fall of his little belly is so comforting to watch and the sound of his little snores could easily soothe you both back to sleep.

“Hm,” Joel murmurs, turning his head just enough so that he can place a kiss on your knuckles. You squeeze his shoulders just a bit, then move your hands to run them through his hair, starting at the crown of his forehead and sweeping your hands through his soft, silvery locks to the back of his head.

“What are you doing?” you ask in a whisper, sinking down to his level, pressing a kiss to the shell of his ear and situating yourself behind him. You wrap your arms around his torso so that your front is pressed against his back and you rest your cheek on the back of his shoulder.

“Just… watchin’ him,” he sighs after a long moment of silence, leaning back into a cross-legged sitting position, yourself.

You crawl around to sit beside him, linking your arm through his and resting your head on his shoulder, directing your own attention to your sleeping son. At only one week old, he's such a tiny little thing, and it's so peaceful to watch him sleep.

“Hey. You should be sleeping, Mama,” Joel then whispers, kissing the side of your head.

“And so should you, Papa,” you nudge him softly, and you can see in your peripherals the minuscule smile that drapes onto his lips at the sound of that name in your voice.

You had first heard him use the word to refer to himself while talking to the baby after changing him out of his soiled diaper the first night back home from the Jackson hospital. Joel jumped out of bed to take care of the crying infant, insisting you stayed in bed as much as possible to fully recover.

He thought you were sleeping while he took the freshly cleaned baby to the living room and talked gently to him as he fell back asleep in his father’s arms. Ever since hearing that name Joel had used for himself, it stuck. Seeing him with your precious son, you couldn't imagine referring to him as anything else.

Slowly, you turn your head to look up at him and you’re met with his tired eyes and sleepy smile. You know he’ll stay awake simply watching baby Oliver sleep for hours and hours on end if you don’t make him go to sleep yourself.

“Nah,” he silently clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “I’m fine.”

“Honey, those circles under your eyes say differently,” you contradict, running your hand across his cheek and tracing your finger delicately underneath his soft, honeyed eyes.

The dad life has already physically started to take effect on him. His luscious beard has grown past the length where he normally would trim it, much to your liking, and there’s those small grey patches of hair shimmering on his chin that you love oh so much.

His voice has a different, calmer rasp to it now; it could be from all the coffee and not enough water he’s been drinking to stay awake, what with patrol shifts scattered in with the night shifts he’s on here at home, but it also could be him getting used to lulling his son to sleep just with his voice.

And those golden eyes have a new sparkle to them, but they are accompanied by dark bags from a lack of sleep. Everything about him is softer, more domestic, and you can’t get enough of him.

“You have to sleep, too,” you remind him, letting your fingers tangle in his hair.

“I can’t sleep, Darlin’,” he refuses again quietly.

“Why not?” you ask, moving your hand back down to caress his face which is contorted with a heartbroken expression.

“I just can’t. Not with the image of our baby hooked up to those tubes still lingerin’ in my head… his poor little body being poked and prodded… I just can’t. I can’t sleep when the thought of Oliver fightin’ for his little life is still at the forefront of my mind,” he rasps.

“But he’s doing so well now, though, Joel. You know that. He’s at a healthy weight, he’s nursing well, and last week’s checkup went perfectly. Joel, the doctors would let us know if they were concerned about him,” you reason softly, letting your fingers scratch lightly at his beard.

“I know. I know. I just… God, I was so scared,” his trembling voice breaks. “For him and for you. When they took him away from us right after he was born. He was-- he is still so small and so helpless. Bringing a baby into this world and making you go through all that you did… Darlin’, the idea of losing him or you… or both of you, I just-"

“Joel,” you interrupt him, keeping one hand on his cheek and placing your other on his neck. “Take a deep breath for me,” you encourage, and after a second of just staring at you, he finally takes in a long, controlled drag of air.

“That’s it,” you coo. “Honey, he’s healthy now. He’s home now. We’re all home now. And we’re together. And nothing’s gonna happen to us, okay?”

“Okay,” he repeats, then pauses, then leans in to kiss you sweetly. Pulling apart just enough to look you in the eyes, he speaks up again. “I never wanna be apart from him. I never wanna be apart from you. I love you so much, (Y/n),”

“I love you, too, Joel,” you say, rubbing the tip of your nose against his. “Let’s go back to bed, hm?”

And he nods in agreement, helping you to stand and leading you to bed where the two of you slip back under the warmth of the covers and almost instantly cuddle up together. You lay your head on his chest and he begins rubbing your back, making sure you’re comfortable above all else.

“He’s going to grow up to be just like you,” you whisper, letting your fingers dance over his arm. “I just know it.”

“Nah,” he whispers back, mumbling into the top of your head. “He’s gonna be so much better than me.”

“Joel, can you grab me a diaper from the shelf?” you call out, weak and sleep-deprived.

Your husband ambles on over from the bed with the prized possession in clutch, placing a firm yet gentle hand on his squirmy eight month old son’s tummy to hold him in place as he steals your spot standing at the changing table.

“Let me,” he mumbles to you sweetly, kissing your cheek, and you can feel that lush beard tickle your skin.

“It’s okay, Joel, I can--”

“Back to bed, Darlin’,” he insists quietly, taking over the job of changing your infant son out of his soiled diaper. You fall back into bed, tired and worried, and Joel is quick to complete his task and hurry back over to you with chubby Oliver in his arms; eight months into being a father again and he's already mastered diaper changes. He settles into bed next to you, both of you now sitting up against the headboard.

“It’s just a tummy bug. Doctor said it’s nothin’ to worry about,” he whispers, leaning into you so that you’re looking over his shoulder at the (now happily sleeping) baby in his arms.

“The doctor isn’t the one changing his diapers,” you refute with a frown.

“He’ll be just fine, Darlin’. Sarah…” he mutters quietly, and you know when you hear that name leave his lips, you’re about to hear something very meaningful to him. “She caught bugs like this all the time when she was this age. The little ones… they’re just more susceptible to it. But they get over it quick. Just like the doctor said Ollie would.”

“I know,” you sigh and nod, knowing Joel’s right. You know how scared he was at the thought of you going through pregnancy and giving birth in this world, and you also know he’s experienced this all before, so he has much knowledge - and trauma - from his past. You take every word that he shares with you like it’s precious treasure.

“Then try your best not to worry yourself too much for me, hm, Darlin’?” he reaches over to caress your cheek.

“I just can’t help but think about how miserable he must feel. Not being able to explicitly tell us how he’s feeling,” you explain, resting your head on Joel’s shoulder to peer down at your son in his broad arms.

“You mean you don’t speak fluent eight-month-old screams?” he teases in a quiet voice, finally getting you to smile. “He’s just gotta get this through his system. This happens to every baby ever. And Oliver Thomas Miller is a tough one. He takes after you, Mama.”

“Takes after both of us,” you continue smiling as Joel leans in to delicately kiss you. “Now put him back in his crib before he wakes up again,” you chuckle silently after pulling away.

Joel smoothly gets out of bed and places Oliver back into his crib where his gentle baby-snores continue before stalking back to your shared bed and slinking under the covers with you. And it’s not long before sleep takes over both of you exhausted parents.

The next morning is the first in a while that you don’t wake up to your crying son, or the movement of Joel getting out of bed before sunrise to leave for patrol. Instead, your eyes open to your husband, fluffy hair still mussed from the night and eyes still soft and sleepy. He’s holding your giggly, smiley son just over your face.

“Say, good mornin’, Mama,” Joel greets playfully in the voice he uses to speak to your son, and Oliver rests his little hand on your cheek.

“Good morning, baby,” you chuckle lightly, kissing his tiny hand.

“Say, I’m hungry, Mama,” Joel continues his antics, letting Oliver smoosh his face into yours with an incoherent gurgle.

“How about breakfast then, hm boys?” you crack a smile, sitting up in bed and grabbing your son from your husband.

“Good morning, Mama,” Joel then says in his normal voice, leaning over to kiss you sweetly.

“Good morning, you goof,” you smile into his lips, then pull apart slowly to get out of bed.

The three of you trudge sleepily down the stairs and into the kitchen where Joel takes Oliver back from you and slides him into his highchair. You start to make breakfast and Joel works on getting something in Oliver’s tummy.

Joel grabs a banana and peels it slowly in front of Oliver while talking to him, his big brown eyes watching his father’s every move. Joel lets Oliver gnaw on the chilled fruit to sooth the single bottom tooth that’s beginning to cut. He’s holding it for Oliver and his little hand is wrapped around his father’s in the cutest way, but Joel just can’t stop chuckling at the mess he’s making.

“What are you doing?” you ask, looking over your shoulder to see Joel’s cheeks flushed pink with amusement as his son drools all over his hand.

“He really likes his banana,” Joel laughs, bouncing the baby on his knee.

“I’m glad he’s eating,” you smile.

“He’s probably over the bug already,” Joel points out, and seeing the way Oliver’s eating so well and how his cheeks are back to their usual shade, you think you agree with him.

A few minutes later, you’re serving breakfast for you and Joel, but a little certain someone starts to fuss in his high chair, probably wanting to sit in yours or Joel’s lap while you eat. Joel scoops up the baby and sets him in his lap, and Oliver’s little hand immediately reaches into the food on Joel’s plate.

“I can take him if you want,” you chuckle.

“It’s okay. You need to eat,” he assures you with a smile “Besides, you wanna sit with Papa, don’t you, Buddy?” he coos to Oliver. He gurgles and shoves some of his dad’s scrambled eggs into his mouth.

“Yep. He’s definitely over the bug,” you nod and giggle, watching the two lights of your life laugh uncontrollably at each other.

a/n: okay so this request was from months ago and I'm so sorry it's taken so long for me to get it out! this used to be two different rpf fics for someone i no longer write for, but i loved revisiting and editing them to make it into a joel fic 💘 dividers by @inklore

thank you so much for reading! reblogs and feedback are so greatly appreciated and help out your fave writers more than you know 💘

Pedro taglist below, link in pinned post to be added :)

#joel miller #the last of us #tlou #joel miller x reader #joel miller fluff #pedro pascal

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