You can tell Pedro was/is such a considerate smoker because he uses tiny gestures to redirect smoke from his companions. It’s something non smokers don’t usually do when acting, and I love that Pedro does these gestures so naturally and decided Javier would also be a super considerate smoker.
He also does this with Elena:
I’ve dated multiple men who smoke, at varying degrees of intensity, and I love the smell and taste of fresh burning tobacco. Yum. And I recognize these tiny gestures. Exhale it right down my throat, Javier.
i want to get a master's degree i want to take a cake decorating class i want to dance i want to sing i want to write and remember how to think i want to swim i want to be free
can we get headcanons for gilf!Joel maybe? his slicked back hair in tlou ep3 stirred something in me 🥵🥵🥵
i like the way you think…
Silver Fox ! Joel Miller Headcanons NSFW!!
Traditional old man in every sense of the word, he doesn’t make cheesy comments when you grab a door handle but he does give you a scolding little glare that totally doesn’t light a fire in your panties.
Self conscious about his somewhat saggy skin around his chest, middle, and extremities even after you’ve assured him until you’re blue in the face. You do help him though. Watching how attracted you are to his body even aged as it is definitely strokes his ego.
Has an online refillable prescription for Viagra that gets delivered to his apartment, and when he takes it he becomes an absolute fiend.
Usually without the Viagra he still is able to throughly satisfy you with ages of foreplay and a nice thorough fucking, leaving you both satisfied after one climactic round.
But when he takes Viagra-
You better clear your schedule and invest in a massage gun for your legs afterwards because you are going to be SORE.
I’m talking several positions, screaming until your throat hurts, your pussy feeling raw and used, daylong marathon sex.
Joel doesn’t seem to soften even a fraction until your body is wailing in protest and you can’t feel your thighs anymore.
You don’t think he could possibly have any more left in him until he’s once again emptying his heavy, full balls into your cunt; adding to the previous loads from the past six rounds he’s already shot into your body.
When he’s not fucking you stupid with the assistance of his little blue pills, he’s treating you like the princess you’d expect he would.
Don’t even think about carrying your own groceries, what are you, crazy?
Speaking of groceries…
If you aren’t living together yet best believe he’s on your doorstep every Sunday at 11AM with a truck full of groceries, dropping them off after church let’s out and he’s free to go to the store.
He makes you sit and continue sipping your coffee/tea while he puts them away, simultaneously checking the sell-by dates of everything in your fridge and pantry like a man obsessed.
Like a true old fashioned southern boy, he won’t tell you he’s in love with you. But he will point out the amount of things expired in your house.
“Come on, now. You’re gonna get sick, this is ridiculous-“ As if he hasn’t brought you your favorite brand of cereal and all your preferred snacks. Even all those “Shitty, organic, cardboard crap” things you love.
Never had a good plate of grits? He’s making them meticulously for you the morning after a hookup. “Eat, you need it. That stuff’ll keep you goin’ all day.”
Is all too supportive of your flimsy little sundresses. The gauzy fabric floating around your legs like a visualization of your perfume, nearly beckoning him closer. Even when you’re looking like a good little church girl in your soft, flowy dresses… all he can think about is how easy it would be to bend you over and have his way with you.
Which he does the second he brings you home from his cousin’s cookout in the suburbs.
Did I mention that he got a vasectomy after his divorce? Still, seeing you with his now adult daughter makes him daydream about getting you pregnant.
Which he finds insane… He doesn’t want any more kids, he physically can’t have any more kids… But the only thing he can think about right now is burying his cum in your pussy and keeping you pampered in his house with your belly full of his babies.
That vasectomy won’t stop him from trying his damndest, though. Especially after Sarah (who he had young) has her first baby and he watches you hold the six month old infant for the first time.
This man is a GENTLEMAN in the most old fashioned sense of the word.
Like, I cannot stress that enough.
If you’re an independent person, prepare to be thoroughly pampered.
His old fashioned chivalrous ways may be frustrating sometimes but it really does come from a place of just wanting to show his love.
Like when he insists on driving you everywhere whenever you go places together, or when he always finds a way to move you to the side of his body furthest away from the sidewalk when you walk, or when he automatically picks up your purse when you meet so that he can carry it for you.
But you forget all about those minor annoyances when he bends you over your kitchen table and pounds you into next week, muttering nonsense about how you’re too young for him or how you’re such a dirty girl for wanting him and his old man cock.
You moan his name when he grips both your hips in a tight but loving hold, all too willing to forgive him for his incessant door opening when you’re all dumbed down on his cock, the cock which is now way too hard and blood filled because he definitely popped one of your favorite blue pills a while ago.
But much like the gentleman he is, after he fucks you into a blissed-out stupor, he carries you to the bed and wipes your spent pussy clean, cuddling you into the mattress and running his hands through your hair while you both come down from your highs.
When he does get insecure about the age difference between you, all you can do is kiss his leathery, stubbled cheek and wrap your arms around him… Convincing him with your actions instead of words that his age is only a factor in your attraction to him… And that you love him for what makes him him.
this post got way too long but NONNIE I HOPE I DID YOU JUSTICE!!
PEDRO MUST HAVE QUIT SMOKING, CLEANED UP HIS EATING HABITS, UPPED HIS WATER INTAKE, GOT A NEW SKIN CARE ROUTINE AND BEEN TO THE SPA BC OUR ROUGH SKIN KING IS SMOOTH AS HELL
summary: joel drops you off and picks you up from the airport. you are definitely falling in love with him.
warnings: modern no outbreak au, game!joel or hbo!joel, fluff, really just a fluff fest honestly, new-ish relationship, falling in love, sweet enough to make your teeth ache | 2.7k
A/N: this is a christmas gift for my dear friend @strangerfreaks who makes my life better in every way possible. i love you! hope you enjoy this <3
___
He's leaning on the side of the truck when you hurry outside with your stuff.
"Morning," you call. It's barely that, sky still dark and air still carrying the bite of the night's chill.
Joel straightens up and gives you a tired smile. Most of his smiles are tired but they're always genuine when directed at you. He tugs the backpack from your shoulder and presses his lips to your cheek, beard scratching your skin gently.
"Howdy," he says in your ear before pulling away.
The travel mug Joel pushes into your hands is warm to the touch.
"Tea," he says before you can tell him it's too early for coffee. His voice is deeper than usual, still warming up from sleep. It's not a cup from the local shop -- they're not open yet -- so he must have made it at home. "No caffeine before flights."
"You remembered?"
He gives you an unimpressed look and grabs your bags. They go in the backseat of his truck and he jerks his chin at the passenger door. "Get in. S'chilly."
It's also early. So early you were not going to ask him to drive you to the airport but when you mentioned you had to go on a work trip he offered. Insisted, actually, once he found out what time you needed to get there.
"You ain't takin' a cab that early," he had said. "Hell, you ain't takin' a cab home, neither. I'll pick you up."
This thing between you isn't new anymore, not exactly, but it's not solid yet. It doesn't have a name. But it's been a few months and you know what his sheets smell like and the feel of him pressed against you in the middle of the night and how he laughs with his head thrown back, mouth wide and eyes creased at the corners. He likes to take you on long walks around the lake a few towns over and you know all about his daughters even if you haven't met them yet. Your life feels a little more solid with Joel in it and the swell of your heart in your chest when you talk to him, when you see him, when he looks at you, is a welcome feeling. It's nice to want and be wanted in return.
The inside of his truck is warm, your seat heater already turned on. The radio is down to a low hum and there's a silver cup similar to your own in the holder between the seats. Joel gets back into the truck with a slight groan and glances at you to see if you've got your seatbelt on before he clicks his.
"Ready?" he asks. You nod. He settles his hand on your headrest and looks out the back windshield as he reverses the truck out of the driveway. "Shouldn't hit much traffic," he says.
You take a sip of your tea and watch him as he drives out of your neighborhood and towards the highway. Part of you wishes you would hit traffic so you could look at him longer. Even in the dark you know his face pretty well by now. His hair is getting a little long, the dark threaded through with some grey and falling over his perpetually lined forehead. The scar on the bridge of his nose that you love to run your finger across and the bruises under his eyes from too many nights up late working on site plans and employee schedules. You don't think you've met a man who works as hard as Joel, and yet here he is driving you to the airport when he could be sleeping.
Maybe it's because he's tired or maybe it's because it's dark or maybe it's because you're leaving for a few days but Joel lets you look without teasing. His eyes catch yours for just a second and he smirks.
"Why don't you drink coffee before a flight?" He takes a sip of his own thermos. You watch his throat work as he swallows and look away this time. The sky is starting to look purple out your window, the trees and fields and occasional buildings flying by too fast for your eyes to settle on anything. Joel drinks coffee like it's water. You're still leaning things about each other -- most days you find yourself thinking that you want to be learning things about him for the rest of your life -- and this is a new topic of conversation. You haven't had to be on a plane since you met him.
"I don't really like flying," you say. "Makes me nervous. I figure caffeine will just make it worse."
"Don't like it much either." You look at him again and find see smirk turn to a frown as he merges onto the nearly empty highway. "You gonna be okay?"
He asks like it's within his power to make flying something enjoyable, to cancel your work trip, to squash everything in this world that makes you nervous. Mostly you're just glad he's not teasing you about it. Maybe someday you can take a trip and be grumpy about it together.
"I'll be fine, Joel."
"Hm."
He rests an elbow against the window and rakes his hand through his hair.
"What are you up to this week?" you ask.
He sighs. "Not much," he says. "Lumber shipment but Tommy's handlin' it. Ellie says her shower head is actin' funny so I'll go to her place and look at that. Probably sit my ass on the couch and try to watch a damn football game or somethin'."
"So what I'm hearing is you're going to miss me." It's meant to be a tease but it comes out a bit more earnest than you'd like.
He sends you that unamused look of his but the mirth in his eyes betrays him, tells you he sees through it. You're learning that he's good at that -- seeing what you really mean, what you really want, who you really are, all the way down to the core. "Course I will," he says. "What man wouldn't miss cold hands bein' stuck up his shirt when he gets in bed?"
You scoff and Joel snickers. You could remind him how he usually catches your hands in his before you make it to his hemline on the rare nights he does wear a shirt, how he cradles your fingers and blows on them softly while rubbing them with his perpetually warm palms. The memory makes your breath hitch just a bit.
It's only three days. Some conference your boss wanted you to go to in his stead. It won't require much of you -- you just have to attend a few panels, a dinner or two, and schmooze a little bit. You'll be back before you know it. You tell yourself it's silly to feel this apprehension at the distance, the time apart. But you're used to Joel by now and damn if you won't miss him. Used to him taking up space in your kitchen, used to his arm around you on the couch, used to his short texts and heavy gaze. You know by now that it's only a matter of time before you love him.
"I'll miss you, too," you say softly. Joel eyes you, smirk turned soft again and reaches for you. He settles his palm on your thigh and you cover your hand with his.
When you get to the airport aren't many cars around and you're pretty sure the attendants won't yell at you for idling. Joel seems to think the same thing as he gets out of the truck to set your luggage on the ground. You leave your now-empty to-go mug in his car and throw your arms around him when he gets to the curb with your suitcase. His chest rumbles in amusement but he hugs you back, one palm rubbing between your shoulder blades until you pull away.
"Thank you for --"
"Nope," he interrupts you. "No thanks allowed." He hands you your backpack and you shoulder it. "I'll pick you up on Wednesday," he says.
You wave him off. "I get in way too late, don't worry about it --"
His hand cups your cheek and the words sputter out in your throat. "I'll be here," he says again.
"I'll call you," you say. "When I get there." It sounds like a question.
His eyes crinkle at the corners. "Please do."
"Thanks for the tea --"
"Now, what did I just say?"
You wrinkle your nose at him and he rolls his eyes before leaning in to press his lips to yours. You sigh into the kiss just a little though it remains chaste, mouths closed as his thumb strokes your cheek once, twice, before he pulls away. It's the kind of kiss that feels fond, feels familiar. A kiss that becomes routine and for a second you imgaine the press of your mouths a thousand times over just like this.
"Safe flight, sweetheart."
You smile at him and grab your suitcase before you stand here kissing him all day. "Bye, Joel."
6:04 am: you make it to your gate okay?
You send him a picture of your breakfast sandwich and the sun rising through the window, painting the sky purple and orange.
6:05 am: don't text and drive!
He replies with a photo of a full mug of coffee on his counter. It's a silly one, a dinosaur wearing a Santa hat. You think Sarah got it for him as a gag gift.
6:05 am: home already. let me know when you land
6:06 am: will do. have a good day!
The flight is pretty okay. You spend the bumpy moments thinking about Joel's hand on your leg and get through it just fine. A shuttle takes you to your hotel and you have to hurry a bit to be ready for your first panel.
You're busy all day. So tired by the time you get back to your room that you flop on the bed with a groan.
"Ugh," you say, face smushed into the sheets. You're tired and hungry and...you miss Joel and feel a little silly about it.
That sense of puppy love, as most people would call it, hasn't faded. Your feelings for Joel are more than the crush they were when you first started seeing each other but they still linger in the realm of infatuation. You like to look at him, to feel the solid warmth of him beside you, above you, underneath you. You like being near him. But you're also starting to love things. You love the way his voice sounds when he wakes up, the way he says your name over the phone, the way he asks you what you want, how you are, how your day was. You love to see him on your couch, in your kitchen, in your bed. You've started to miss him when he's not around.
And what you said to him in his truck is true. You do miss him. It's an ache that sits in the center of your chest, an ache that feels like the best kind of bruise -- because it comes from something good. And because you know it'll be soothed soon enough.
But, because you're only human, you doubt that it's as serious for him. Joel keeps his cards close to his chest and while you feel like you know him pretty well by now you also have so much to learn. So, though you really want to, you don't pick up the phone and call him. Maybe the next time you're away.
7:54 pm: day 1 done! ready to get in bed. why do men talk so much?
He texts back immediately.
7:54 pm: god knows. don't forget to order room service on the company dime. sweet dreams.
You laugh and do as he says.
The rest of the conference goes the same. By day three you're exhausted and your face hurts from smiling at so many people. Your shoes are no longer comfortable and as soon as the closing keynote ends you're out of there, changing into soft clothes and taking the shuttle to the airport. You text Joel a picture of your airport dinner and then your eye bags and he replies with a cute that has you giggling a little too loudly in public.
You just want to get home to him. Your own bed is a bonus.
But then your flight gets delayed. Twice. Joel tells you not to worry, he'll pick you up in the middle of the night if he has to. Once you board you get stuck on the tarmac for another half hour before finally taking off. It's a decidedly less relaxing experience because you're so anxious to be home but you make it. When you land it feels like you're sitting in your seat for ages. You're tired and feel gross and you want to go to bed. Your phone turns back on and you've got one text waiting for you.
10:34 pm: i'll be by baggage claim
That was 15 minutes ago. He must have been checking your flight in the air to get here at a reasonable time. God, you want to touch him. You want to stick your nose in his neck and inhale.
You try very hard not to run through the terminal to the escalator that goes down to arrivals. It seems to move really fucking slowly once you're on it. As soon as it gets far enough for you to see the baggage claim level and everyone waiting there your eyes search for him. You see some families, a few tired children sleeping in arms that hold them tenderly. A group of girls with a sign that reads WELCOME HOME RACHEL!
And then there's Joel.
Once you spot him it's hard to keep a smile from your face. He's standing there with his hands in his pockets, eyes glued to the escalator. Jeans, jacket, boots, and a firm set to his jaw that might be intimidating to anyone else but to you it's familiar. It's him. Once he sees you he stands a little taller and you see his cheek twitch. If someone wasn't in front of you you'd be down the steps in seconds but you wait until you're at the bottom to race forward.
It's probably a bit dramatic. You drop your suitcase and backpack at your feet in front of him.
"Hi," you say, and then you throw your arms around his shoulders. Joel laughs.
"S'like you're comin' home from war, or somethin'," he says, though his hugs you back just as tightly. "Should'a made a sign."
"Feels like it." Your words are muffled by his shoulder.
"That bad, huh?" His palm drags up and down your spine. "Let's get you home, then."
Neither of you pull away. "I missed you," you say softly.
Joel breathes deep and pulls away, hand on the back of your head as he makes sure you're looking at him.
"Missed you, too," he says gruffly. Then he kisses you. It's less chaste than your goodbye kiss but still perfectly acceptable for airport arrivals, you think.
"You hungry?"
"I sent you a picture of my dinner!"
"Not what I asked." You shrug and tangle your fingers with his. His thumb strokes the back of your hand. "We'll get you somethin' on the way home."
"Do you want to stay over?" you ask in a rush, realizing too late he's got no reason to want to. It's late and tomorrow is a workday. "I'm just gonna shower and go to bed but I--"
Joel's nostrils flare. "If you want me to I will." Simple as that.
"Okay," you say. He squeezes your hand.
You walk in easy silence for a few moments. Once you're in the car you'll ask how his week was, tell him about the gossip you learned at the conference. You'll look at him the entire drive to your place, drinking your fill of him after three days without. Yeah, you're going to love him. It's just a matter of time.
"Thank you for coming to get me," you say.
Joel looks like he wants to argue but he allows it.
"Anytime," he says. It sounds like a promise.
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