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The gasp I gusped!! PATS my belovedddddddd is back! Oh Adira! I’m so happy that you’re dusting off this treasure of a man and his preciosa! I’ve read every chapter, ficlet, and even the comments half a dozen times, so didn’t even need the refresher to move through these entries!

Welcome back!

Patricio Keeps a Journal, Pt. 1: Winter

Good. Things. Take. Time. is a series that grew out of prompts–the whisper of a character, the asks of readers. And now, to get myself back into PATS’s head, the prompts are coming from @fanfticionoverload’s Seasons of Life challenge.

What you’re about to read are some excerpts from Patricio’s journal. Heads up they probably won't make much sense if you haven't read the ongoing series.

Each excerpt is just that–snippets that pertain to the story, taken from his presumed wider journal, each notated where it lands in the series and follows the chronology of the series.

The rules of the challenge ask for 250 words per prompt. I thought it would be a little less forced if I didn’t worry so much about that, so some may fall short of that number. And I’ll say that these aren’t heavily edited nor are they anything other than basic reactions, precisely because I wanted them to feel like the unfiltered thoughts one writes in a journal.

Let’s say that it was Shell’s orders for him to keep a journal in the first place. If his practice is his way of dealing with his demons, if he’s not going to go to traditional therapy, then “the least you can do is just offload before bed, and not the kind of offloading you do with your dick. I’m not gonna read it, but I’ll want to see words on those pages. Write a fucking play for all I care, write a manifesto about your love of pasta, I don’t give a shit what. Just write.”

I don’t have anything to write. I’m not a fucking poet. Shell says use the pen, get the words out of your head, just write anything. Anything. Anything. Tables have turned. Now I’m the one practicing letting it all out. Trying not to think too hard.  Anything.

EXCERPT 1: SNOW

TIMELINE: a few days before Good. Things. Take. Time.

…

#39 gifted me four tickets to the game at her last session. It’s Neils’ birthday. I’ll surprise him and Dan with a guy’s night out.

Got a new client coming in on Thursday. #48. I wasn’t going to approve her. Nothing in her application hints at any lingering trauma that she can’t just get treated at a legit clinic. But Shell was pushy about this one. She's got a knack for these things and hasn’t been wrong yet. Official referral diagnosis: pain is psychological tension from a recent(?) divorce. I guess it’s worth a shot. If nothing else, divorcees are usually just in need of a good fuck so it’s an easy fix. Good photo. I like her style. She’s going to make pretty faces.

Thinking about taking some time off after that. Rare confluence of three clients ending their run at the same time, it’s slow season at the office and the guys can handle a week without me, I should get out of town. Someplace quiet. Or fuck, I don’t know, someplace distracting where I can get out of my head. Maybe I should book a massage. Look at me, I’m hilarious. Who massages the masseuse? I’ll have Shell find me something. Keep it interesting. Place yer bets: seedy and cheap or golden toilets and happy endings? As long as it’s somewhere warm.

Renee posted the pictures from her honeymoon. Skiing in the Alps. She always used to hate the snow. Guess people change. Change can be a good thing. 

She’s better off. 

___

EXCERPT 2: SCARF

TIMELINE: The night of Good. Things. Take. Time.

…

Shell hit the jackpot on this one. Perfect plaything. She’s like I custom ordered a client. Recurring cluster knots all down her starboard teres major, needs a hand getting in under the port shoulder blade…can’t do it alone. Needs my hands. She needs me. Follows directions, trusts completely. Has a good imagination. That will open up more in time. I expect a challenge out of this one. Surprised the shit out of me with the beautiful thing though. Maybe shouldn’t have let her have that. Maybe shouldn’t have gone down on her. It’s fine. She’s clean. Tastes good smells good ass for days. I can get a good handful. Everywhere.

And perfect inside. Tight but not too tight, good control with the right assistance, takes direction like a dream. I’ll be able to get her to sing if she keeps listening. Mierda, her skin. My hands want to eat it. Oil it up and map it out and scarf it down. Her muscle structure is    -just-    amazing. I haven’t been this amped in months. This one hits the spot.

Giving her Thursday across the board might have come off too eager. Well, if that didn’t, offering up extra days on call probably did. Jackass.

Not gonna worry about that tonight. Bowling with the guys tomorrow night. Hope they’re ready to eat their damn balls. I’m fucking invincible.

She called me beautiful. She’s [sentence scratched out] 

Forgot to note in her file–she said she hasn’t had anyone make her come in over a year even though info says she’s only been divorced a few months. What kind of an asshole just walks away from that her? How could anyone share a bed or a house or anything with that and resist for a year? She deserves to get fucked every day. Why wouldn’t you want someone that just falls into you so willingly and fucks so pretty? Great. Now I’m angry. Not my concern. Just my gain.

___

EXCERPT 3: COZY 

TIMELINE: weekend evening, after installment #2, relieving period cramps

…

Keep thinking about Thursday. It’s not about the blood. It is and it isn’t. It’s obviously that she needed relief. It’s good to see her trusting. That can be tricky for some women. Beaten into them that they have to hide what their body does. It’s a body. It’s a unique mechanism. It has shit and blood and needs a good release now and then. Or every day for some people...another truth for some of us that the world wants hidden away.

The blood’s messy. It’s primal. It’s brutal and nobody blinks an eye if it comes from a punch to the face or a slice of the thumb. But the minute it comes from the minute it shows you what  a woman’s body is capable of… But it’s also the harshness of the color, a signal that if there’s pain then it’s real. It’s a helpful focus.

She just LETS me. There's beauty in that pliability. She trusts, she follows, she heals. The way her face just relaxes when the knots are gone. It’s almost as good as the orgasm itself. Beautiful.

Got her all warmed up in the bath, all cozy in bed. Fell asleep like a worn-out kitten and I had an urge to kiss her forehead. Poor thing just needed it today. Successful session.

___

EXCERPT 4: FIREPLACE 

TIMELINE: a couple of weeks later, evening, after installment #3, the treatment for migraine and anxiety AND includes this six sentence ficlet

…

Well shit. There’s a coincidence. She wouldn’t believe me if I told her.

Thursday came in tonight tight as a screw, migraine a good 7 or 8. I had to take it slow. Asked her to focus on some bright spots in her life, like her favorite things. I might have guessed the animals and reading, but the fanfiction was a surprise. Cute. It was best not to talk about what was causing the stress because

Her family coming to stay.

Fuck if I don’t sympathize. 

Mama got here two days ago and all she can do is complain about her hotel and American food and how everyone speaks too fast for her to keep up. It’s cold here. The hotel should have a fireplace. Why don’t you take time off Patricio? You have an extra bedroom, why can’t your mama sleep there?

I love her. But I get it. There are just some boundaries that are hard. I get you, Thursday.

Preciosa.

Fucked her five ways til Sunday. She fucked ME five ways till Sunday.. She drew blood. Didn’t even care. Mark me up, girl. Glad I could help, but damn that might have been more mutually beneficial than I’d originally planned.

___

EXCERPT 5: HOT CHOCOLATE 

TIMELINE: night of installment #4, with the undergarment ripping and the thigh-highs

…

I didn’t expect to get to play this much. I’m usually so focused on the pain and making sure the client can come in their condition that there’s not a lot of room for fun and surprises. I got to take Shell out last weekend and might have bought her too many beers and pull-tabs. It took her about three bottles to get profound. She wants to know who "therapies the therapist" and told me I should remember that it’s okay to put my own priorities first sometime. She said that people in the industry of care need to be taken care of too. She said it’s okay to have a client that gives as good as she gets. Then she went home and threw up and texted me the next day that she’s drinking nothing but hot chocolate from now on. Haha

Shit. Thursday feels good when she walks out of here. She looks like a million bucks. I did that. I DO that. THAT’s what I need. So yeah. Why shouldn’t I enjoy that? Cute tonight. She wanted me to rip her panties. All she had to do was ask, but I think she was embarrassed to?

So the new diagnosis is lack of confidence and the treatment is for her to speak up for what she wants. We’re going to get her to a place where she can ask–or demand what she needs. We’ll work on her trusting that I’ll give her anything she wants–anything. 

She’ll be able to walk out of here and conquer the world when I’m done with her.

___

EXCERPT 6: FREEZING 

TIMELINE: a couple of weeks after the previous entry

...

[….] and Niels can go to hell though because I don’t care how low key it is or how good the whiskey is, I’m not giving up my Thursdays to fill in the hole in his poker night. His basement is freezing and I have warmer places to be.

Although speaking of, Thursday canceled again. It’s been a couple of weeks. Crunch time at work for her I guess. Her portal messages seem pretty stressed. She’s apologetic about missing sessions. I can tell her she doesn’t need to apologize, I’m getting paid whether she shows or not. And honestly, it just means we’re going to have to work that much harder to get her malleable again and I can hardly complain about that. A build up’s a hell of a thing. As long as she doesn’t mess up her rhombs again. We were just making headway on that. I should ask her about her desk chair.

But I’d be lying if I said that I gave a shit about the pay. I’m allowed to enjoy my clients and be disappointed when I don’t get to see them.

At least Jean’s back on Friday. It will be nice to see her again. Now that her latest surgery’s all healed up, we can find her some good positions for her to take home. I know her partner’s skittish about the discovery phase. But she’s almost done and when the reconstruction’s over, he’ll thank me for it. He SHOULD thank me for it, she’s got a good laugh and good tits.

Jean’s a perfect example of learning to speak up for herself. I can do the same for Preciosa. Lucky for her she doesn’t have Jean’s level of pain to work through. But she’s gotta show. up. for. it. Come on, girl. I got you.

___

EXCERPT 7: MARSHMALLOW

TIMELINE: directly after installment #5, all pent up and feral

…

Now THAT. Was a successful fuck. We’re making headway here. Little slapping, little biting, she got a good few hair yanks in there. She’s learning that not only am I not a marshmallow…neither is she. Good girl. Pretty high praise response, but she’s also got a little fight in her. She’s a switch and doesn’t even know it. She will. 

There were some real emotions tonight, real anger, real tears. But when she let go I nearly wept myself. It was beautiful. She’s working too hard and she knows it. But she also knows I’ve got her when she does. Hopefully that will preempt some of the stress next time. Not even upset about that shoulder blade. We’ll just start from the beginning on that.

[....]

Just reminded me of Renee nagging about working too hard. I just remembered that I had a dream about her a few nights ago. Not really about her. She was in the background somewhere and not even angry that I didn’t stop to say hello. Then she picked up her purse and left. The light kind of shifted like, I don’t know. Felt like it was the last time I’d see her. Not in a bad way. 

It’s good. Like a door really closing.

Maybe I do work too hard. But I like it. It’s who I am. It’s my choice.

____

PATS in winter by @d4rm4nd4

SERIES MASTERLIST

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🥵

Whatever you need to do to signal dominance get comfortable, baby.

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first art of 2025 and its pedro

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no thoughts just his thighs

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save me, half dead dishevelled Joel. fuck me.

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Took me OUT. 😮‍💨

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PEDRO PASCAL “The Wild Robot” Headline Gala | 68th BFI London Film Festival (October 13, 2024)

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@ pedro pascal daily on X

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Actually crying

i think about this moment and beyond so often.

this earth-shattering grief, how the whole world, despite it currently ending, drops off into blackness for joel right here.

i so often wonder how long he sat there with her. how long he was able to sit there with her. whether he carried her limp and cooling body as far as he could, whether tommy begged him through his own grief to leave her sleeping where she fell, knowing that he couldn't lose another member of his family.

did they get the chance to bury her? is sarah laid in a shallow grave not far from her home, her bones secret to all but her father and uncle and animals who stumble across them over the years?

would joel ever be able to find her again? if he rode out to texas, would he find that sunken ground and know it was his baby girl who rests there? would he be able to look?

or would he search for hours, panic clawing up his throat when he realises he can't find her, maybe can't even remember the exact spot he left her? along with all the other things he has started to forget - the sound of her laugh, the exact pattern of her freckles, her smell when he held her, what colour the bobble in her hair was on the first day of school.

he feels like even more of a failure. he couldn't protect her, couldn't take her place on the other side of earth then, can't remember where he let her slip through his fingers now. the bloody print of her hand on his arm that he could not wash off, the watch he has worn every day for the twenty years since.

if they couldn't bury her, does the thought of her body laying to waste out in the open haunt him? does he sink the thought down so deep it's like she never left at all, or does it come to him in nightmares? in moments sat at the kitchen table surrounded by new family, people who should have known her too?

does he have a place for her in boston? somewhere he goes to remember her? does he have one in jackson, aside from tommy and maria's chalkboard? a place on a hillside beyond the walls, surrounded by butterflies and wildflowers, a little cairn he raises just for her. a place where he can be with his sarah, talk with her into the sunset, and when he turns his head he's still so surprised she's not there.

and maybe, maybe, when his time comes around, he finds himself surrounded by wildflowers and butterflies just outside jackson. maybe, maybe, in the home he built in texas, untouched by years and tragedy. he can hear her bound down the stairs - finally, you're here - or he turns his head on the hillside and his baby girl is already there, sarah -

sat beside him like he knew she had been all this time.

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Exceptional actor first. Total babe second.

There is something about Pedros eyes as Joel that has me on the floor, throughout the series there are alot of microexpressions he does but this damn contrast makes my heart ache.

He goes from disbelief to shock to completely shutting down when Sarah dies, there is so much pain in those eyes it makes your heart clench, it's in the way Joel keeps hugging Sarah harder as to transfer his own life into hers by pure will,

Then you have the hospital and you see no light behind those eyes, you can just feel the pure rage and agony. Him walking slower and slower and you can just feel his heart drop, and the wires come lose in his head and then there is one mission, save Ellie. His eyes man....

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Spectacular. Gimme 14 of them right now.

Relax, Miller.

QZ!Joel Miller x You | Explicit 18+ MDNI | 1k WC | AO3

Summary: In the Boston Quarantine Zone, you and Joel both find a way to get what you want.

Warnings: This is just smut and filth. Reader age undefined. Written as a female reader but could be anyone. Oral. Cum eating. Drugs. Not beta'd.

M A S T E R L I S T | A O 3

The satisfying sound of Joel moaning under your tongues handiwork should be payment enough, but you would never let him know that. 

His grip on your hair is fierce. His right hand tangles into your locks. His fingernails claw into you each time you do that thing he loves. 

Hearing his low growl as he tenses was a tonic for your ears. Inspiring you to do your worst.     

He leans back on his couch and places his forearm across his brow, mouth agape, panting as you hollow your cheeks. 

Joel was always so quiet, and you loved the challenge of getting him to vocalize when you had him in your mouth.

His dark and mysterious facade was eroding. Just a man after all. Much less intimidating when he was at your mercy. The only time he ever was vulnerable and it turned you on to orchestrate it.     

Your hands were pressing his thighs wide open for you, but you shifted between his legs to access more of him. You reach a hand to hold him at his base. Your pathetic fingers can barely wrap around his cock. The other hand cups around his balls and you make him groan as you massage him in his most tender spots, hitting the areas you know make him come undone. He twitches in your grasp as you work him just how he likes.   

You bob your head on the end of his cock, sucking with restraint at first. Behaving yourself. Relishing his skin getting taught. You can feel it stiffen more and more the harder you inhale him. You ease up and swirl your tongue around his tip and he moans as you lap up the drops of precum beading. Tasting his sweetness while you breathe in his musky scent. It was intoxicating.      

You loosen your neck and let him thrust into you. He tries to conceal his whimper as the tip of his cock nestles into your throat.

You don’t let him get too carried away and you know how much it turns you on to edge him. 

“Fuck..” he mumbles to himself under his breath. He was losing control and you didn’t want him to come just yet.

You pull back and let his length slide out of you, sucking on the tip before letting it pop out of your mouth with a wet squelch. He stifles another whimper and grits his teeth as he stares down at you with needy eyes. 

“Relax, Miller.” You scold him with a cunning tone, knowing full well you have him right where you want him.

You drag a finger playfully down his shaft, tracing the pulsing vein. His cock was gorgeous. Girthy and commanding. He was getting impatient with you riling him up.  

He restlessly repositions his grip in your hair and takes his other hand to grab at the side of your neck, urging you back to his cock. Pleading without words.   

He leans back against the couch and closes his eyes as you lick a stripe up the underside of his cock. When you press your lips back to the head you rip out a guttural sound from within him as you take him back in your throat. A crescendo praising your work and you smile wickedly at his coming undone. 

He bucks into you, writhing and groaning. His beautiful, incoherent sounds getting louder and more desperate. You feel his body tense all over. He goes to pull out of your mouth but you lock onto him and take him deeper. Your warm, wet mouth and tongue lulling him into a moment of ecstasy as he spills into you. The taste of his hot cum on the back of your tongue sends you into a frenzy as you drink him down. His spent body thrusts weakly as you empty him and then he stills. Finally at peace. Finally relaxed. 

He drags his cock slowly out of your mouth and winces when you kiss his sensitive tip. Still overstimulated by your doing. You drag your finger under your lip and wipe the cum and saliva that trailed out behind his cock. You lick it off your finger as you stare at him down, knowing full well how filthy he likes it. You catch the corner of his lip pull up just slightly. Pleased with your obscene display of satisfaction. You loved the taste of Joel.    

He loosens his grip in your hair and holds you tenderly against his thigh while he catches his breath. He brushes your hair behind your ear. His comforting and intimate touch juxtaposes the reality of the world you live in. There is no room for weakness or getting soft.     

This calm and fleeting moment of respite was such a rarity in the QZ. A Joel Miller at peace and unvigilant. A sight you never got tired of seeing and a sight you promised not to get used to.  

Too quickly the moment is over. He shifts his legs as you raise to your feet and adjust yourself. 

He zips up his jeans and groans as he stands up. He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a tiny bag with white pills in it. He hands it over to you and you grab it casually, pleased with your compensation.         

You turn around to examine the pills and stow them away into your pocket. You feel him watching you, following you through the living room.

“Need the baggie back.” He reminds you gruffly, looming over you with his arms crossed as he leans against the open door frame. 

And you remind him that you know the drill. You wave the empty baggie between your two fingers and hand it over to him with a slyness.

“See you later, Miller.”

Tagging Friends / Mutuals / Joel People I hope will enjoy this <3

@magpiepills @legendary-pink-dot @exquisiteserotonin @youandmeand5bucks @for-a-longlongtime

@redhotkitchen @sparklefarts38 @pink-whiskey-woman @galaxyedging @mystickittytaco

@mischiefmanaged2 @aurorawritestoescape @beardedjoel @lotusbxtch @toxicanonymity

@moonlitbirdie @tonysopranosrobe @mothandpidgeon @604to647 @thebeldroramscal

@gasolinerainbowpuddles @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @sin-djarin @mermaidgirl30

@pedrospatch @pearlessance @sawymredfox @morallyinept @schnarfer

@strang3lov3 @itwasntimethatdidit40 @inept-the-magnificent

Thanks for all the love and support <3

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Why is his hand literally in his pants? 😂😂😂 maybe he’s got a little booty itch

PEDRO PASCAL with instructor DEVIN WIGGINS in a new photo shared by Coco

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Pedro Pascal en la cama, óleo sobre lienzo (abril 2023)

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don't point those things at me

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Pedro Pascal and Kristen Wiig at the Wonder Woman 1984 set