A collection of fan fics based on Pedro Pascal Character
Why have I decided at 1am on the 27th April to set myself an almost impossible Star Wars fic challenge? Do I love to torture myself? I’m guessing I am.
I do have 2 ideas in the pipeline but as we get started wars day & tiny & shiny back on the big screen let’s see if I can do this.
Synopsis:- each fic will link to Star Wars in some kind of way. All characters are played or voiced by Pedro Pascal.
Each Fic will come with its own warning.
I hope you all enjoy this, hopefully I have enjoyed creating 31 fics in less than 5 weeks. I may die but you know I have spoken…
Day Twenty One of Pedrotober 2025 - Prompt Joel Miller from Season Two of The Last Of Us
PEDROTOBER 2025
You know what’s coming, you’ve already had soft Joel this month. So now it’s time for Feral old man Joel. Last year my Joel Pedrotober Fic was one of the most liked & reposted ones I did, so I’ve kept a similar vibe to last time.
Synopsis:- After a long day on petrol around Jackson, you reach the Miller residence, where you know they have plasters for the blisters on your feet.
Word Count:- 4000
Warnings:- DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18! Age gap reader is in late 20s Joel is in 50s. PIV unprotected sex, teasing, swearing, size mentioned, substance taking, smoking, sofa sex, risk of being caught. Look you all lapped it up last time Joel was much older than the reader so why not. Set in Jackson but happens before the start of season 2.
Well good luck recovering from that, it was rather full on. Thanks as always for the read peoples. Hopefully you come back tomorrow for more fun.
You’d barely made it down the main street of Jackson before your boots started screaming at you. The patrol had been longer than usual, two routes merged after one of the horses went lame, & now, as the evening drew in, every step felt like walking on broken glass. You could feel the blisters erupting. You knew who would have what you needed, & headed that way.
By the time the Millers house came into view, the light was already fading, soft orange bleeding across the snow. You hesitated on the porch, shifting your weight from one sore foot to the other, out of nerves or pain or both, you weren’t sure. The windows were dark. Maybe he wasn’t home. Still, you knew he kept those blister plasters in the bathroom cabinet, he was notorious for hoarding the good stuff after supply runs.
“Just in & out,” you muttered, trying to convince yourself this wasn’t breaking & entering. You turned the handle. Unlocked.
The house was warm, faintly smelling of coffee & wood smoke. “Joel? Ellie?” you called out softly. No answer. You stepped inside, boots leaving wet prints on the floor. The boards creaked beneath your weight as you headed down the short hall toward the bathroom, already imagining the relief of peeling your socks off.
“Ahhhh” You’d just found the cabinet door, for where you thought his supply would be, when the sharp click of a safety being released froze you in place.
“Don’t fucking move.”
You spun around, hands instinctively raised. Joel stood in the doorway, gun drawn but angled slightly down, eyes hard but focused. His expression softened a second later as recognition set in.
“Jesus, girl,” he muttered, lowering the gun. “You tryin’ to get yourself shot?”
You exhaled, pulse racing. “Door was unlocked. I just needed some plasters for my feet.” You lifted one booted foot slightly. “Didn’t think you were home. I did call your name.”
He shook his head, the corner of his mouth twitching like he was trying not to smile. “I got somethin’ better than that,” he said, voice low & rough in the quiet. He sighed & gestured with his head toward the living room. “Well go on. Sit down before you fall down,” he muttered, voice softer now.
You didn’t argue. You trudged back along the hall to his lounge. The old couch creaked under you as you sank into it, your legs instantly grateful to be off your feet. The warmth from the unlit fireplace had faded, but the air still held the faint scent of ash & cedar.
Joel disappeared for a minute, the sound of a drawer opening somewhere down the hall. When he came back, he had a small box in his hand. “Here,” he said, dropping it on the coffee table with a quiet thud.
You blinked. “Blister pads? The good ones?”
He smirked, crouching down to start stacking kindling in the fireplace. “Mmmmm. Got a stash from that supply run last month. Figured they’d come in handy.”
You peeled off one boot, hissing when the sock came with it. “You hoard these things like they’re gold,” you teased, carefully peeling open a pad.
He struck a match, the soft flare lighting his face in amber for a second before the fire caught. God he’s handsome for a man of his age. “You walk ten miles a day in busted boots, you learn what’s worth keepin’ & if stuffs really that necessary, you’ll learn kid” The fire crackled to life, washing the room in warmth & shadows. You leaned back into the couch with a sigh, watching him dust off his hands.
“Thanks,” you said quietly looking at how to apply the blister packs. Also you were secretly wondering how many you could squirrel away.
Joel gave a little shrug & sat down in the armchair across from you. “Ain’t nothin’. Just don’t sneak up on me next time or you know, actually use the door knocker.”
“You’re just losing your hearing” you joked & he huffed. You laughed under your breath at his reaction, rummaging in your pack for something else. When your hand came back up, there it was, a small rolled joint, neat & tight.
His brows lifted. “Aw, hell,” he muttered, that slow, incredulous smile spreading.
“Oh, come on,” you said, wiggling it between your fingers. “You look like a man who could use a little help relaxing.”
He leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing just slightly but with that familiar spark of amusement. “I used to smoke this a long long time ago… before…” his voice cracked a little & he shock his head, clearly still haunted by the past”…You plannin’ on corruptin’ me, or is this a peace offering?” He said accusingly.
You grinned. “Maybe both.”
You brought the joint to your lips, struck the lighter, & drew in a long, smooth breath. The first drag burned a little, it always did get caught in the back of your throat, but then that mellow calm spread through your chest, winding its way up your neck like a sigh.
Joel was watching you, elbows on his knees, that half amused, half disbelieving look written all over his face.
He shook his head slowly. “Kids these days,” he muttered. But he knew he wanted to try.
You grinned around the exhale, the smoke curling between you in lazy spirals. “I’m twenty eight, old man,” you said, handing the joint out toward him. You know he won’t deny it. “You’re basically a grandpa.”
He huffed a dry laugh, the corner of his mouth twitching. “I’ll have you know, I’m fifty nine.”
“Oh, excuse me,” you said, smirking. “Didn’t realize you were still in your prime.”
He gave you a look,half scolding, half smirk, then leaned forward & plucked the joint from your fingers. He didn’t need an invitation. He took a long drag, the ember glowing red near his calloused hand, then leaned back & let out the smoke slow. Instantly his shoulders dropped, a little less on edge.
“Damn,” he said, voice roughened, a hint of surprise lacing through it. “You got some good stuff.”
You leaned your head back on the couch, watching him through half-lidded eyes. “Told you I had something better for the pain.”
Joel chuckled under his breath, low & warm, then passed it back. “You keepin’ all the good secrets to yourself, huh?”
“Only the ones worth sharing.” You say it’s a wicked grin. “& with those it’s worth sharing.”
The fire crackled, the air thick with heat & smoke, for just a long moment, neither of you spoke. The tension had shifted, softer now, but charged, like the space between you was humming quietly.
The weed had worked its way through your system, a slow, heavy warmth that made the firelight look softer somehow. You’d both sunk deeper into the couch, legs half tangled, conversation drifting between half-finished thoughts about patrol routes & who’d left the front gate to Jackson unlocked again over night. You both had similar suspicions.
Joel leaned forward, elbows on his knees, rolling the newest joint you’d started between his fingers before handing it back to you.
“You know you could get a new couch Joel” you joked as your eyes hazed over each puff sending you to a state of bliss. “There’s enough material in the textiles that we could do this up”
He shook his head, a smirk tugging at his mouth. “Careful. You keep talkin’ like that, I’m gonna start chargin’ rent for my couch.”
You lifted one foot, resting it on the cushion near his thigh. “Pretty sure my rent’s paid in pain,” you said, showing him the angry red marks where your boots had rubbed raw.
Joel’s expression softened. “Damn,” he murmured, reaching for the small box on the coffee table. “You weren’t kiddin’.”
He put his glasses on & held your foot to inspect it. He then tore open one of the blister pads & gestured for you to sit back. You did, letting your head rest against the uncomfortable couch as he sat beside you. His hands were rough but careful, the kind of touch that came from years of handling fragile things in a world that broke too easily.
When he pressed the cool pad over your skin, you exhaled. “That’s… better than I expected.”
“Don’t sound so surprised,” he said quietly, glancing up at you. “Told you these were better than standard plasters”
The firelight flickered across his face, soft shadows, tired eyes, a half smile that never fully went away. The silence between you wasn’t awkward anymore. It just was.
“Joel?” You gulped.
“Yeah?”
“Don’t stop.” Shocked but happy at the words spilling from your mouth.
He didn’t. His thumb brushed slow circles along the arch of your foot, the calluses on his hand catching just enough to make your breath hitch. The joint had burned down to ash by then, but neither of you noticed, the world had gone a little fuzzy around the edges, warmth, smoke & something unspoken neither of you wanted to name.
You watched him work, the slow rhythm of his hands against your skin, & something in your chest started to ache, not from the pain, but from how gentle he was. It had been a long time since anyone had touched you like that, without expectation, without rush. Just care.
Maybe it was the weed. Maybe it was the firelight, the warmth of his voice when he said your name. Whatever it was, you moved before you could think better of it.
“Joel,” you whispered.
He looked up, those big brown pleading eyes, & that was all it took. You leaned in, your hand catching his shoulder as your lips brushed his. It wasn’t deep, not yet. Just a question. A test.
He froze, breath stilling against your mouth. For a heartbeat, he didn’t move. Then he drew back just enough to look at you properly.
“What’re you doin’?” he asked, voice rough, quiet.
You swallowed, your pulse racing. “You’re smart enough to figure that out.” Confidence from the weed spreading through your veins.
He huffed out a sound,half a laugh, half a warning, before he sat back, putting a little space between you. “You’re young enough to be my kid.”
You tilted your head, the faintest smirk pulling at your lips. “I’m twenty-eight. Not a kid.”
“That ain’t the point,” he muttered. His jaw clenched. “Ellie could walk in here any second. You think I wanna explain this to her?”
You hesitated, the teasing slipping from your face. The warmth that had filled your chest began to twist, replaced by something smaller, sharper. You drew your feet back onto the couch, hugging your knees a little closer.
“I wasn’t tryin’ to make trouble,” you said quietly. “Just… forgot what it’s like to feel wanted.”
That got him. You saw it in the way his shoulders dropped, the fight draining out of him. He looked at you for a long moment, the firelight catching the lines in his face, guilt, longing, loneliness.
“Hey,” he said softly. “Ain’t about wantin’. Trust me, I…I just…”He cut himself off, sighing. “You just caught me off guard, is all. It’s been more than a minute.”
You nodded, eyes on the fire, trying not to let the disappointment show too much. Even high consent works both ways.
The room was quiet again, only the crackle of the logs between you. The silence stretched between you, only the soft pop of the fire & the faint scratch of the joint being passed back & forth. You could feel the heat of him beside you, the way his arm rested along the back of the couch like he was both trying to relax & keep himself in check. To tell himself no.
You took another slow drag, the smoke curling from your lips as you handed it back. “Guess we’re bad influences on each other,” you murmured.
He huffed, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Guess so.” He took his turn, held it for a second, then exhaled toward the fire. “It’s just…” He hesitated, voice lowering. “It’s been a while.”
You blinked, not expecting that. Your jaw parted slightly, the teasing smirk gone, replaced by something softer. “A while?”
Joel gave a small shrug, not looking at you. “Yeah. Been… busy. Keepin’ people alive don’t leave much room for…”He waved a hand vaguely, not finishing the thought.
For a moment, you just stared at him, this man who carried the weight of the whole damn world on his shoulders, admitting something that sounded almost shy. Then you smiled, leaning a little closer, your voice warm but edged with disbelief.
“Joel Miller, you’re still in your prime.”
He looked at you for a beat, really looked. The air seemed to shift. Maybe it was the weed, or the way the fire threw light across your face, or maybe it was just that he was tired of pretending he didn’t want this too. Whatever it was, something in him snapped quiet.
Before you could say another word, he reached out, his hand catching the side of your neck as he pulled you in & kissed you, not tentative this time, not questioning. Just heat, breath, & all that pent-up wanting breaking loose at once. Hunger & desire.
His mouth was warm & rough against yours, tasting faintly of smoke, red wine from his lunch & something older, something heavier. The world outside Joel’s cabin had already faded, no wind or creaks of the ratting windows & walls, just the fire crackling & the soft, uneven sound of breathing that wasn’t quite steady anymore.
You shifted closer without thinking, one hand finding his chest, feeling the slow thud of his heart under your palm. He didn’t stop you. If anything, he leaned into it, his hand sliding to your waist, fingers tracing lazy circles that made it hard to remember what air was for.
The kiss deepened, turned slower but heavier, like he was trying to memorize you, one touch at a time. His beard brushed your skin, coarse but careful, & when he finally pulled back to breathe, you could see the war flickering behind his eyes.
“Joel…” you whispered, lips still brushing his.
He shook his head slightly, voice rough. “We shouldn’t. You’re…”
You didn’t let him finish. You kissed him again, softer this time, hands cupping his jaw. “We can stop,” you murmured against his mouth, giving him the choice. “Consent does work both ways.”
He froze, for all of half a second, before something inside him broke. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you flush against him, the kind of need that had nothing to do with logic. His forehead rested against yours, breath shallow, eyes dark.
“God, no,” he said hoarsely. “Right here. Right now.”
That was all it took. His strong arms & big hands lifting you into his lap. Your mouth engulfed his, a hunger waiting to be devoured. All the facial hair rubbing against your skin. The moans & giggle escaping with each breath making him harder. He’s grabbing your arse through your jeans. Growling at the prospect of more.
“Making the fantasy good baby?” Me snarls through gritted teeth. Your hands move down to his belt. The clink of the buckle hitting the floor as you fling it across the room. Only the crackling fire behind you is louder than his fly. He takes this moment to lift you up & tug your own jeans & panties down, as you fumble with his. His fingers automatically having a sweep.
“Jesus, your soaking’ darling” his eyes wide before he sucks his fingers clean as you spring his cock free, your jeans now around your ankle.
“Got a real need old man” you lick your lips & manouver yourself ready to sink down on him.
“You’re gonna be the death of me” he says his cock twitching as he lines it up & you grab onto his shoulders.
“Being an old man it could be” he swats your arse for that comment. The sting glorious.
“Old also means experienced” you then both moan & pant as you slip all the way down his shaft, bottoming out. You’ve never had anyone this girthy before. It stings. It brings tears to your eyes. You grab his shoulders even more.
“Fuck Joel” you whine.
“Too much for you princess?” He says before his hips buck & you clamp around him instantly.
“I’ve never felt this good before” you’re so breathy, already feeling the sensation of pleasure as he thrusts again.
“Clearly you’ve had boys before, ehen what you needed was a read man” he says & it’s now his time to groan. Your rolling hips seeing him into a trance. “Oooh but clearly those boys got the good stuff from you fuck” you grind again & soon the rhythm is in check. His hands grabbing your arse, your breast giggling as you grind & bounce on each thrust. You can feel you back start to drench from the warmth of the fire & the enjoyment as you ride his lap. Your toes curling the pleasure is too much. Moaning is only interrupted by sloppy kisses, tongues dancing in the warmth. Your bodies a hive of desire as you build up & up to a state of euphoria.
“So… fucking… tight”
“So big, god you big”
“You like it big”
“I like passion & fire”
“That’s my girl”
He then bites your bottom lip & is vigorously thrusting as you feel every inch spread you open, ready to cascade.
“Cum for me baby, don’t leave your old man hanging”
“Fuckkkk”
You snap & freeze as you take him fully & drench his length & the sofa, your hands digging into Joel even more. It sets him off.
“Jesus fucking Christ” he gripped your arse so hard as he filled you up with his seed thst you expect there to be marks in the morning. He slumps fully into the sofa as your limp body remains seated on his lap. He’s still hard inside you & you’re panting like air is about to be taxed. Drenched in sweat smelling of his cum, thoroughly satisfied.
He slowly runs his hand through your hair.
“Thank you” he whispers softly into your ear & you lift your head.
“Why?” You seem bemused.
“It’s nice to feel wanted, even if I know we shouldn’t”
“Old habits die hard i guess” you say as you go to move off his lap but he then grabs your hand & lick some of the sweat off your neck.
“That’s true but you’ve set off a new fire in me”
Those words were all it took.
Riding his lap had just been the start, soon all the clothes were being torn off & tossed aside. The fire roaring as he pushed you face down into the sofa. Your naked bodies ready for more passion. He spat on his fingers to mix it with your slick & you moaned in the most heavenly way to his ears.
“That’s my girl” he growled. The rest of the nights passion started as he filled you up & made sure this old sofa would have more stains on it. You’d both unlocked something & neither of you wanted to quit now, not when the pleasure can be that phenomenal. The night was only just beginning.
The morning light slipped through the cracks in the curtains, just catching the curl of smoke still lingering from the night before. The fire had burned down to embers, just enough warmth to keep the chill from the houses air.
You stirred first, blinking against the light, the rough wool blanket scratching softly against your bare skin. You don’t remember grabbing it or it being draped over you. Joel was still there lying next to you, one arm tucked behind his head, the other wrapped tight around your waist, holding you like you might slip away if he didn’t. His body still warm still smelling of weed, sex & you.
You smiled into his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat grounding you. The air still smelled faintly of smoke & cedar, a Smell that belonged to the two of you now.
He shifted slightly, looking across at you. You were half draped across him like a koala, legs tangled in the blanket, cheek resting on his chest. His eyes softened, that rare, quiet look that was all for you, & then his lips twitched into a lazy grin.
“Damn,” he muttered, voice rough with sleep, “I still got it.”
You snorted against his skin, lifting your head to give him a look. “You sound way too proud of yourself for a man who claimed he was ‘too old for this’ last night.”
He smirked, rubbing a thumb over your hip. “Didn’t hear you complainin’.”
You rolled your eyes, hiding the smile that betrayed you. “Well… maybe just a little.”
Joel’s laugh rumbled through his chest, low & warm, the kind of sound that made your heart ache in the best way. He pressed a kiss to your hair & exhaled. “We probably shouldn’t talk about it,” he murmured.
You looked up at him, grinning. “You mean the part where you said I was trouble or the part where you called me sweetheart right before you…”
He shot you a look, the kind that was half stern, half flustered. “Don’t push it, darlin’.”
You settled back against him, smug & satisfied. “You loved it really” you wink.
He chuckled quietly, gaze flicking down to you again. “Yeah,” he said, barely above a whisper. “Maybe I did.”
You eventually peeled yourself off him, the blanket slipping away as the cool air hit your skin. The room still smelled of smoke, sweat & something warm that made your cheeks burn. You gathered your clothes quietly from where they’d been scattered, his flannel near the hearth, your shirt half-draped over the arm of another chair.
Joel pulled on his jeans first, still watching you in the half-light. The silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable, exactly, just… uncertain.
He cleared his throat. “You, uh… want some coffee?”
You shook your head quickly as you looked at the clock, tugging your boots on. “No, I should go. Patrol briefing’s in twenty.”
He nodded, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “Right. Course.”
You crossed the room, trying not to look too long at the fire or at him, but the second you reached the door, he was there, broad & solid, leaning one hand against the frame.
“Don’t be a stranger,” he said quietly.
You smiled, small and a little nervous. “You know I won’t.”
He tilted his head, a smirk creeping in. “No… I think you know what I mean.”
Before you could answer, his fingers caught a strand of your hair, twisting it gently, almost absent-minded, & then he tugged you just close enough to kiss you. It wasn’t desperate like last night, slower, more deliberate, but it still hit like a shock. It then melted into your soul. A taste you won’t forget, a night to remember.
When he pulled back, his breath brushed your lips. “Go on, before I change my mind,” he muttered.
You stepped out onto the porch, boots crunching in the frost, your pulse still racing. When the door shut behind you, you could swear you heard him exhale, half a curse, half a sigh, like a man already losing a battle he hadn’t meant to fight.
You bounced down the street, a far cry from the woman who hobbled to the house mere hours before. Now revitalised for a life worth living & a temptation that was too good to only have once. You’re already hoping to have an excuse to stop by later, to gain more experience from old man Miller.
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