Pedro Pascal Fan Fic - Blog Posts

My Darling Muse (iv),

Dieter is in LOVE. He's just not sure if he's met them yet. But in the interim, he's keeping a journal to house all of his inspiration, poetry and recipes, before they fly out of his head. And once he meets the ONE...or ONES...this is going to be his gift to you. Along with those sexy time IOU's he's always handing out...

Trigger: It's Dieter bub so this series will DEFINITELY include profanity, drugs, alcohol, sex, smut and any meanderings D wants...He's endlessly inspired by art, poetry, songs, sex and YOU!

My Darling Muse,

(Bluets Excerpts by Maggie Nelson) “Suppose I were to begin by saying that I had fallen in love with a color.” “I am writing all this down in blue ink, so as to remember that all words, not just some, are written in water.” “Fucking leaves everything as it is. Fucking may in no way interfere with the actual use of language.” “To take a breath of water: does the thought panic or excite you?” “sometimes I do feel its presence to be a sort of wink-- Here you are again, it says, and so am I.” “I want you to know, if you ever read this, there was a time when I would rather have had you by my side than any one of these words; I would rather have had you by my side than all the blue in the world.” “And we have not yet heard enough, if anything, about the female gaze. About the scorch of it, with the eyes staying in the head.” “And what kind of madness is it anyway, to be in love with something constitutionally incapable of loving you back?” *written in margins: Blue Balling? Was I a fish in a previous life? Is Blue...bi? How do you say "fuck" in Latin? Only blue stuff. I love baby goats, but not like that...Practice female gaze...

Hey folks! This is J, Dieter's PA. I don't have much time to talk. Dieter has sworn off writing, after his good pal Pedro Pascal recommended "Bluets" by Maggie Nelson. Now Dieter claims he isn't worthy to worship at the feet of Blue, and is re-painting all 5 bedrooms in his house. Yes, Dieter I'm going to the store right now for all Blue foods...No, I don't think Blue Koolaid is produced naturally...Yes, I promise to listen to Joni Mitchell's album "Blue" and think primarily Blue thoughts for the month of October. I'm not sure if you can dye a goat's hair blue, but we can look into it...I gotta go folks, this is getting out of hand...

Blue Album by Joni Mitchell

*Van Gogh

*Picasso's Blue Period

*thanks @thecutestgrotto for the cool dividers!

Bloodsucking Witch

It's Spooky Season and Moody Max has been rarin' to go! I just watched "Blood Sucking Bastards" and have been enjoying so much Halloween material like Dracula, The Discovery of Witches and Interview With a Vampire, it seemed only preternatural to try my hand at horror!

Triggers: HORROR! All the things you'd expect; blood, witchcraft, vampirism, smut, allusions to death, mind control, dubcon all around, profanity, alcohol, questionable power dynamics (all set in the workplace), fingering, masturbation...gosh we really covered a lot. Pedge was feeling naughty...

In a lot of ways, this year had never been better. Sales had skyrocketed with your leadership expertise, company morale was higher than ever, and you had become nearly accustomed to being a vampire. Truth be told, the latter part of that arrangement had proven more challenging, but Max had provided a tremendous amount of professional support and personal direction. Granted, much of that mentorship had transpired through mind control, but you had no immediate complaints.

Living a life as a successful businesswoman and CEO had been taxing to say the least. It wasn’t until procuring Max as an exciting Chief of Operations, that you stepped into the full height of your professional prowess. It did come at a cost. No more lounging around at the beach. Difficult to do your make up in a mirror that no longer reflected your countenance. And the sex. The sex was mind-blowing, but you really wished you had more to contribute. Bossing people around for the majority of your adult life had always come naturally, but with tremendous isolation. It wasn’t until Max circumnavigated your willpower that your sexuality REALLY came into fruition. Put mildly, you had no idea that type of liberation was possible, until  Max completely overrided your ability to say no. It was hawt. No more manipulations or wondering about their intentionality. Max’s desires were perfectly clear, as he rummaged around the recesses of your own, and you found yourself in a strange intimacy that finally scratched the hidden itch you had never articulated.

But what could you give back? Max had provided company betterment, empowering sex and vampiric immortality. What was your contribution to this relationship? Was Max a better vampire, being with you, when he could have any other vampire at his fingertips? Your cold dead heart beat a little less, with the knowledge that Max had infused your life with the passion and vitality of murderous lust, and you longed for some way to repay him. Yours was a strange tale of enigma and voracity, but compelling nonetheless.

Sitting at your high rise office, you chewed nervously at a Bic #2 Ticonderoga Pencil. What to give to the man who has everything? You mindlessly stood, unbidden, at your desk, feeling the throbbing urge of control, beckoning you to Max’s nearby office. You sighed with contentment, no longer fretting away the office hours in doldrum. What new adventure would Max have on the horizon? Afternoon delight? Company firings? The new delicatessen on Third and Main? The options were endless, as you mindlessly breezed through the hallway, catching your non-reflection in the glass covered entryway.

Enter.

This was the most seductive of intercoms, and you didn’t even need an office memo. You straightened your gray business skirt, hoisting your breasts up voluptuously, hoping that Max once again ripped through your new red negligee, specifically worn for this occasion. Jerking the door open you found him forebodingly poised behind the massive mahogany office desk, with his feet propped lazily upon it.

Shut the door.

You smiled mischievously, unable to contain your excitement. If HR knew about your particular situation…it wouldn’t matter whatsoever. They were vampires too. You hypnotically floated towards his desk, sinking into the thick leather chair and crossing your legs temptingly. 

“Drink?” he finally intoned, motioning to the small bar available to his right. 

“It’s 11am Max” you drawled, dangling your red stiletto heel loosely off the tip of your toe.

“Who the fuck cares?” he jested. “Never stopped us before” he motioned for you to grab him a snifter, as you felt your body drawn upwards, gravitating towards the golden liquid.

“Am I just operating as your waitress today, or did you NEED me for something else?” you questioned, adding ice to the small glass and pouring a shot.

“We have a new exciting opportunity in the Oregon offices and I didn’t want to send any lackey for such an auspicious occasion. I’d go myself, but let’s be honest; the office would completely run amok without my hand’s on attention…” he arrogantly boasted, patting his lap for your curvaceous body to sit atop.

You rolled your eyes dramatically, stuttering slightly in his direction and plopping down atop his eternally hard length. “Are you ever satiated?” you growled, tipping the golden liquid into his mouth as his eyes hungrily devoured the contours of your neck.

“Not around you, Buttercup” he snarled, his eyes flashing a mysterious red tint for one millisecond before downing the shot in one languid gulp.

“Any special instructions?” you whispered into his ear, rolling your hips slowly over his slacks and licking at his icy cold neck into the angular point of his knife-like jaw.

“Try not to have too much fun without me?” his eyebrows shot up as he pursed his lips in a feigned innocence, reaching into his desk for the first class ticket to Salem. You noticed your black negligee from last week’s business meeting, clandestinely housed in his office drawer.

“My drawers in your drawer?” you teased, batting your eyelashes sensuously. He growled into your neck, grazing his fangs over the feather light sensitivity of your skin. 

“I can smell you from here” he moaned, aggressively pushing two fingers past the waistline of your skirt and digging into your hip.

“Max we don’t have time…” you pouted, already feeling the warm tentacles of his mind wrapping around your volition. 

“As the Chief of Operations I encourage all of our employees to make time for important preparation and business acumen. Plus, I really wanna fuck you on this mahogany desk again…” Max smiled into your sternum, lifting you up and depriving you of your skirt in one fell motion.

You leaned back on the desk, spread eagle before him, as he reached for the intercom. “Janet, hold all my calls for the next 15 minutes…” he smirked, dragging his icy digits across the lips of your heat causing you to buck sporadically atop the pile of manilla folders and notebooks.

“The delegates from Microsoft are waiting for you in the foyer…” Janet’s tinny voice garbled from the desktop intercom.

“I SAID HOLD ALL MY FUCKING RESPONSIBILITIES, JANET!” Max yelled, loud enough for Janet to hear through the walls, let alone the crackling intercom.

“Got it, boss” Janet timidly replied as Max ripped the buttons of your suit jacket, exposing your new red lace negligee for his lustful eyes.

“Fuuuuuuck meeeee” he sighed, grabbing your knees and aggressively shoving them to either side.

“That’s my line” you gasped salaciously, feeling every thought ebb and flow out of your littered mind. This was the part you liked best. Sex before Max had always been a mental obstacle course of confusion and conflict. Now the only internal conflict was that you felt guilty about not feeling guilty. Surrendering your body and mind to Max’s control, was the most liberating sexual experience you ever had. You wished he could experience the same delights.

Sound.

A sinfully loud moan escaped your lips as Max thrust two powerful fingers inside you. You barely registered the embarrassment, as your mind absolved itself of all choice.

Enjoy yourself.

An electric shock of desire throbbed through your entire being as your body responded to his galvanizing hypnotic urges.

You’re going to cum. And you’re going to cum hard and fast.

You felt your body careening out of your control, heaving and pulsing around you in ripples as he circled your heat and your clit with expert motions. It was no secret that vampires were fast, but this was unexpected, even for you. You screamed euphorically as your orgasm hit you like a freight train, jettisoning your body into his powerful grasp in a full spasm of delight. He pumped his fingers through you slower and slower as tears ran down your face sloppily.

I’m thinking sushi for lunch, right? his voice echoed in your mind, which you barely acknowledged, smiling lazily and collapsing into his embrace, nodding in the affirmative.

Ah, the perks of being a CEO.

You trotted down the fairway, bright red suitcase in tow for the red eye. How appropriate. Clad in head to toe apparel to avoid even the smallest hint of sunlight you arrived in Salem, Oregon for the business conference Max had arranged for personnel development. You teetered off the evening flight at 3am in the morning, spotting a gaggle of giggling youth, dressed in witches costumes and goth-like makeup. 

You grinned brusquely, remembering the time of year, and Salem’s claim to fame. Witches indeed, you reasoned, wondering what evening activities you might pursue, once your professional responsibilities were done. You spent the day alternating between Zoom sessions and indoor business meetings in the posh hotel located in downtown Salem. Prior to your metamorphoses you never would have thought vampirism to be maintainable, but Max had taught you the inner workings of the coven lifestyle, and you had taken to it remarkably fast. Never a morning person, and already partial to black, the only sacrifice had been your veganism which made a sad departure. As the day’s activities came to an end, you changed into jeans and a maroon top, eager to explore the mysteries of Salem night life and take in the cities charms.

You drifted into a lazy pub crawl, followed by a night tour of historical Salem locations. Looking around at the eclectic group, you saw more witches, ghouls and Halloween vampires, toting plastic jack o’lanterns and cheap broomsticks. The tour guide theatrically droned, “A majority of people accused and convicted of witchcraft were nearly 80% women. The belief was that women were inherently sinful and more susceptible to damnation than men were. Women's souls were seen as unprotected in their so-called "weak and vulnerable bodies". Some likely believed they had truly given in to the Devil, however some women might have confessed in order to spare their own lives. Women who did not conform to the norms of society were more likely to be the target of an accusation, especially those who were unmarried or did not have children….”.

You pursed your lips cynically. Check and check. A slinky black cat materialized in your path, weaving its slinky body between your ankles and trotting down the nearby alley. A flash of light caught your eye as you thought you observed a young, lanky teenage girl with flaxen hair beckoning to you conspiratorially.

You already had dinner, but you were intrigued. Watching the tour guide lead your small group in the opposite direction, you headed towards the darkened alley as the lithe, fairy like creature summoned you to a small apothecary like entryway. The cat’s feathery black tale disappeared inside the stoney residence, as a small bell cheerily chimed in welcome. Max had told you to enjoy yourself, and you were very good at taking direction. You hesitantly poised at the doorway, curious for where the evening’s events were taking you. Opening the door lightly you were immediately greeted by billowy plumes of lavender, soil, eucalyptus, and a myriad of fragrances you couldn’t immediately place.

The darkened apothecary was cheery in demeanor, as a bristling fire hummed at the hearth, and an old tape recorder from the 20th century was playing a frothing beat of Alanis Morisette. You took in the twinkling wind chimes and bowl of crystals, looking around the room in wonder. There was something vibrational about the atmosphere, and you wondered if vampires had found themselves in the previous trials and tribulations of Salem. The cat mysteriously re-appeared at the front desk, as the waif like teenager popped up from behind the cash register.

“How might I assist, young one?” she melodically questioned, drawing her fingers across the purring feline and gesturing around the incense filled room. You quirked your head confusedly, wondering at her demographic. Young one? You were easily 20 years her senior, but there was a maturity about her that distorted the atmosphere around her. You stepped up to the counter, gazing at the cornucopia of enigmatic items sprawled out before you.

“You are special” she ventured, gazing appraisingly into your eyes and biting her lower lip. “Many lives reside inside of you…” she enigmatically prophecied, breathing deeply and looking over a small library at her fingertips. You swallowed dryly, feeling somewhat naked and observed as her fingers danced lightly over the various books and scrolls in the glass case. “Might I offer you some light reading material?” she asked, selecting a small black book that seemed to be archaic and from a bygone era. 

“Please” you rasped, becoming slightly intoxicated with the heady shop fumes and humming thrum of the black cat, butting its head up against your chest.

“It’s on the house” she inexplicably offered, her eyes flashing a millisecond of green before disappearing up the stairwell, the cat scampering after her playfully. You fingered the edges of the antiquated text with curiosity as Alanis Morisette sang,

“You're essentially my employee and I like you having to depend on me. You’re kind of my protege and one day, you’ll say you learned all you know from me. I know you depend on me like a young thing would to a guardian I know you sexualize me like a young thing would and I think I like it…”.

Tucking yourself into the nook of the first class recliner, you fingered the glowing incantations beneath your hand. You were delighted to discover their pulsing energy as you ran your fingertips over the delicate embossing. What did this mean? You tried to pronounce the Latin and French dialects under your breath, and felt a strange warmth emanating from your chest like a tether.

Almost immediately, the person opposite you in the aisle sat bolt upright, eyes ablaze and then sank back in their own recliner, asleep again. 

That was odd, you mused. What did that young waif mean by “many lives lived”? Was she referring to reincarnation? Did she somehow sense your vampiric energy? You had to admit, even during your collegiate years, you had always possessed a preternatural ability to sway individuals to your willpower. You had always interpreted it as leadership ability, and meeting Max had upended any previous assumptions about life in general. But was there more to your diverse and unique existence than anyone had surmised? Is there a world where you were both a vampire AND a burgeoning witch? You clasped the book tenderly to your chest. There was only one way to find out.

Relishing in the clickety clack of your stilleto’d heels you paraded into the offices for the evening shift. You were excited to regale Max with your Salem adventures, and curious if he would notice a difference in your general demeanor. You’d taken it as a good sign that several neighborhood cats had crossed your path upon arrival, but it seemed too good to be expected. Could one woman be so benefitted in their life, as to experience TWO supernatural events in one existence? Only time would tell, as you jerked the large door open and confidently strutted into your CEO persona.

The office was a flurry of activity as vampiric energy raged brightest in the evening hours. You had no sooner deposited yourself in your office, then a magnetic pull alerted you to Max’s desires.

Come to me.

Your heart fluttered in nervous anticipation, smoothing the gray pant suit that was covering a newly purchased pink negligee. At this rate, you would need to liquidate Victoria’s Secret if Max insisted on his unsatiated passions. No matter. Perhaps you could quell the tide, or at least give Max a taste of his own prowess. You languidly drifted down the hallway and paused at his office door.

Enter.

Smiling broadly, you found Max curiously unaltered, seemingly sitting in exactly the same position and in exactly the same suit, knowing that he wore the same apparel everyday to work. You poured yourself into the leather chair opposite him, noting a quirky expression dotting his eyebrows.

“You seem different” he bluntly stated, licking his lips dryly and flashing the smallest portion of his porcelain veneered fangs.

“I enjoyed my trip tremendously, and I’m excited to share some of the new professional skills I’ve acquired…” you began.

“Would you…?” cutting Max off at the onset you made a beeline for the bar, interrupting him.

“Would you like a drink?” you questioned, pouring one for yourself first.

Max bit his lip voraciously, eyeing the curvature of your fit, bloodthirsty body. “Thought you’d never ask” he quipped, enthusiastically leaping to his feet, and sidling up behind you seductively. He drew a line of tickling fancy with his nose along your shoulder blade, as you drolly poured two glasses of whiskey.

“I don’t know if I’ve ever thanked you for the professional acumen and killer instinct you’ve instilled in me during our time together” you teased, offering him the liquid courage, and mentally refreshing your incantations.

“It was nothing” Max bantered, downing the drink in one rapacious gulp and digging his fingers into the meat of your ass. “I know a good opportunity when I see one” he boasted, lining his hips up with yours and bumping his length against your pubic bone.

Get on the couch.

You gasped slightly, his voice echoing particularly loudly in your ears at this close proximity. His eyes flashed bright red before dulling to a sexual glaze. This was it. If you had the ability to give Max some of the fortitude he had so richly provided you, your life was about to become even more varied than you could have believed. Sauntering over to the leather chaise you flung your high heels into the corner and began unzipping the back of your pantsuit. Max removed his suit jacket quickly, standing above you poised to pounce. Something about his demeanor looked particularly stressed, and you wondered if your absence had contributed to the force of his desperation.

Get on your knees.

Feeling the seductive threads of his hypnotic stare, you closed your eyes to focus your full mental willpower on your response.

You first.

You thought you heard the slightest trace of Max gasping, wondering if you had been remotely successful in your first attempt. Fluttering your eyelids slightly and gazing up at him with curiosity, you noticed his eyes dilate to full crimson lust.

“What did you say?” he whispered, pausing his sexual armada just long enough to undo his leather belt with a swift motion, holding it in one hand.

Get on YOUR knees, you countered, suddenly flush with the thrill of possible empowerment. You caught the slightest stutter in his gait as he braced himself against the couch indeterminately.

Max’s mouth dropped open ever so slightly, dragging a finger across your bottom lip imploringly. You felt the tendrils of Max’s mind control begin to thread through your personhood, almost as though holding hands with your newfound mental abilities. It was a curious wrestling match of intimacy as you mentally grasped one another tenaciously.

I said, GET ON YOUR KNEES, you thrust the full force of your mental acuity across the chasm-like mindscape, hearing the smallest of whimpers escape from Max’s throat.

A moan hovered at the entrance of his mouth as you closed your eyes and muttered the first incantation you had attempted earlier that day.

Hearing a soft thud, you opened your eyes to see Max’s shining countenance, hovering just below your face, from the floor below. His Adam’s Apple dipped noiselessly in his throat as he began panting doggedly.

“What are you doing?” he whispered, unzipping his pants slowly and furrowing his brow determinedly. “Is that you?” he begged, a small smirk teasing at the corners of his fanged mouth.

Pleasure yourself, you commanded, drunk with the power lust of newfound passion, and excited to finally give Max the equality he so readily deserved.

With lightning speed, he removed his length from his boxer briefs and began pumping with abandon, lolling his head back in pleasure and allowing you to hold his torso in place with his tie.

More sound, you growled internally hearing a desperate cry of euphoria escape his liberated lips as he pumped more furiously. “Thank youuuuuu” he droned, giving in to the orgasmic energy pulsing over his exhausted frame.

Cum for me, you commanded, uttering a quick incantation under your breath for added effect watching his delighted reaction coupled with moans and cries of exuberance. You pulled his body into your embrace, waiting for him to catch his breath and steady himself. Feeling his body finally relax against you, you sighed with relief as he nipped the smallest of bites at your neck, drawing a trickle of blood down your sternum.

“Did you like that?” you batted your eyelashes, gazing into the red of his pupils blown wide with desire. Lapping up the honeyed sweetness of your blood he moaned emphatically into your neck, as you bit at his shoulder blade.

Hissing with pleasure he shuddered in your embrace, pulling back with newly discovered respect and admiration. “Professional development is so fucking essential for workplace morale” he observed, flashing his fangs attractively and smashing his lips into yours with a passionate kiss.

*thanks @thecutestgrotto for the cool dividers

Moody Witch

Ha! Okay Pedge and I wanted to try our hands at some Spooky Season Fics, so this weekend we are going to attempt our first Moody Max short. We just watched "Bloodsucking Bastards" and it was a hoot.

Also stay tuned for the Roll-a-Trope Challenge, Episode Five of "Pike's Place; Nightmare Before Christmas". Everything is starting to get intense, it's the Season of the Witch y'all!

Pike's Place A Christmas Story

Thanks to @burntheedges "Roll-a-Trope Challenge" this dynamic duo is going strong till Christmas Day. I've started a slow burn Winter Series with the assist of @inept-the-magnificent! New episode every couple weeks.

Triggers: tipsy heroine, smut, Christmas galore in sugary sweetness, discussions of ex, pandemic reflections, profanity, teeny tiny cut, mention of a gun...this one is pretty tame...so far...

Series Masterlist

Pike felt the pulse of your thighs holding him securely in place, as you gripped his wrists, gently pulling them behind his back. His eyelids fluttered momentarily, surprised at this forward change in tonality. You began lazily circling your hips over his gray sweatpants. Somehow his eyes were closed, but he was seeing every detail of your rosy complexion. Every freckle. Every crease. Every sumptuous plump and wrinkle was etched in his mind as his hips jerked forward into your hold. “M-more…” he stuttered, gulping loudly, slightly ashamed at his unabashed reaction. “More pleassssse…” he hissed, hearing the smirk as your voice retorted, “I’m the one calling the shots, Agent”. His head lolled lazily back as he tried to focus on his breathing, and not the feel of your breasts bouncing lightly against his bare chest. “More, more, more…” he mumbled incoherently as you increased your tempo. Pike was pure sensation. Embodied pleasure. A flame, alight under the weight of your soft body that was cascading and rippling atop him. “Do you like your Christmas present?” you drolled, as Pike began to paw at your chest with ravenous attention, gripping the pink lace of your negligee between his teeth and holding you at the back. “Yes…yes…yes…” he droned into your sternum. He opened his eyes to find…the reprimanding face of his ex, now standing above him, with a snow shovel. 

“Lisbon?” he countered, grabbing at the blanket in his lap and pulling it up to his chin. “Can’t you just let go?” she sarcastically questioned, pushing the snow shovel against his chest and digging in slightly. “When will you ever learn?” she growled, slowly morphing into the cartoon version of The Snow Miser, until her head bumped into the cabin’s ceiling. 

“What the hell?” Pike shimmied backwards, now in a full suit and grappling with three heavy suitcases.

“Ho, ho, ho and Merry Christmas!” a loud voice boomed from the outdoors, until Santa kicked the cabin’s door down, cutting an aggressive figure in bright red security apparel and smoking a cigar. 

“It’s not time yet!” Pike shouted with conviction, dropping all three suitcases and reaching for his gun, only to find a small Nerf Blaster in the holster. “Get out of my house! I’m…ON THE ART SQUAD!!!”, he bellowed attempting to pelt Santa with insignificant foam balls that exploded into tinsel.

“Have you been naughty or nice???” Santa boomed, reaching for a large red satchel and throwing it over Pike in one motion. Pike wrestled in the dark, helplessly shouting to get your attention, his feet slipping underneath him in the silky satchel. “Ho, ho, ho and Merry Christmas!!!!”

Pike jerked awake in the dull morning’s light, his heart thumping wildly in his chest sporadically. Rubbing his face with fervor, he reached for his phone haphazardly, knocking a wine glass to the cabin’s floor. “Damn” he whispered, afraid to make too much noise while you slept in the upstairs bedroom. Sleeping on the living room couch had been the obvious choice for the last few nights, but maybe he needed to scale back on the Merlot. If it was going to be fueling his nightmarish dreams, he probably should stick to hot chocolate from now on. He smiled with chagrin, looking at the small mess, and mostly finished plates of pasta adorning the nearby coffee table. Pike was meticulously neat, almost to a fault, but the last few days he couldn’t help himself, relaxing into an easy routine with his newfound guest. The pink motorist. You.

He smiled to himself, carefully sliding into his morning slippers and padding around the shards of glass to get a broom and shovel. He shivered slightly in the morning’s air and abrupt memory of his ex standing before him with her own shovel, pointing an accusatory finger. Pike was no psychologist, but he knew enough about artistic interpretation to divine his nightmarish subconscious. Even fictional exes had a point. The definition of idiocy was utilizing the same technique and expecting different results. He shuffled quietly through the living room to begin tidying up. Despite evidence to the contrary, his experience had taught him, that even with the best of intentions, love doesn’t just come knocking on your door. There’s a constant complexity of timing, experiences, desires…to say nothing of blizzards, exes and…whatever that was. He shook his head with self-deprecation. Get your head out of the sky and back in the snow, Pike, he chastised himself, sweeping up the remnants of broken glass, reaching for the final remainder…

Stretching like a cat and blinking sleepily into the friendly sunshine you smiled conspiratorially hugging Pike’s shirt to yourself indulgently and breathing in the fading woodsy scents. Pike had been kind enough to retrieve your luggage from Bessie the (now broken-down) Hyundai, but you always managed to change into his pajamas from the first wind swept evening at “Pike’s Place”. You bit your lower lip with confusion. How were you so comparatively unbothered? It had now been 72 hours since your first snowsuit-ed appearance at Pike’s doorstep, but it felt like a lifetime ago. Once you ascertained your relative safety, the last three days had snowballed into a cozy blur, falling into an easy routine, learning about your welcoming cabin mate, working from home…

You paused. I’m not working from home, I’m working from HIS home. Or home away from home? What am I even doing, and why am I so delighted by this turn of events? You huffed a sigh of confusion, relishing the memory of coffee, cookies and movies that had accompanied your easy friendship with Marcus over the last several days. Agent. Pike. You rolled your eyes at your momentary mental lapse. Things weren’t perfect. You had several digital arguments with the mechanic down the hill, a bumpy start to your unexpected stay, and the most snowfall Big Bear had seen in a decade. You thought of Bessie, now completely covered in drift, shivering in the whitened landscape. But you couldn’t care less. Christmas Eve was in 24 hours and you were stranded with Marcus until the unforeseeable future….and you couldn’t have been more enamored. It had been a difficult negotiation of self as you realized how rusty your post-pandemic social skills had become. There was the looming presence of his ghostly ex and your own insecurities, but with every emotional flinch, Pike seemed completely unawares, wrapping you in a holiday blanket of friendship, safety and chocolate chip cookies. It was almost too good to be believed, and you felt yourself waiting for the other Christmas stocking to drop. But maybe you could take a page out of Pike’s book and believe in a Christmas miracle. Maybe you WERE the hero in your own story and this “made for you” Hallmark extravaganza could finally get started without you ruining your own rom-com. Your eyes twitched to the door with surprise at the muffled sounds from the living room.

You heard Marc…Pike’s sleep-muddled voice tinged with emotion.

“More…Yes, yes, yes…” you listened, unsure of what you eavesdropping on. “Lisbon?”

Shit. Was that his ex? Your memories flashed on the small photograph you had accidentally stumbled upon in his briefcase. Good Lord, are they talking on the phone? Oh my God, would she come and visit for Christmas? Wouldn’t THAT be my luck, you pondered. Maybe the threat of the ex wasn’t quite so distant as you’d hoped. You flung the blankets off, shivering in the newfound cold, your legs mostly bare under Pike’s large flannel pajama top, searching for your morning slippers. What were you hoping for? you chided yourself, padding around the room looking for a change of clothes, and eyeing the door clandestinely. You could listen a little bit…just to…you know…stay informed? You pouted grumpily, shuffling across the room and pressing your ear against the door. 

“What the hell?” Pike raised his voice a bit. “Get out of my house!”

You audibly gasped. Was she already here? Pike sounded PISSED. Okay, score one for us you quickly appraised, before marveling at her bitchy bravado. How dare she show up on Marcus’ doorstep for the holidays, after breaking his heart! The irony of that accusation didn’t escape you before hearing a crash of glass and raising up to your full height of 5’3”. Oh hell no. Where’s my crowbar?

With all the force a small redhead could muster you nearly flung yourself down the stairwell, crowbar in hand, prepared for anything except the vision you found.

“StopStopStopStopStop! There’s glass!” Pike cautioned, holding up a distressed hand ornamented by a small trickle of blood. 

“What happened? Are you okay?” you gulped, tiptoeing down the stairwell carefully and crouching at Pike’s side. 

“Just clumsy” he chuckled, before you grabbed his wrist, eyeing the small cut appraisingly. Without even thinking, you popped his finger into your mouth and began sucking lightly. Oh my God. You had never been a morning person and the adrenaline of the moment had completely overridden your common sense, but this was…Your eyes rounded to small saucers as Pike’s mouth dropped open in surprise. You both froze mid-moment as Pike’s eyes drifted down your body, gazing at your freckled knees and silky skin. His length tantalizingly twitched in his gray sweatpants, as he desperately prayed you hadn’t noticed. You had.

“Are you wearing my pajamas?” Pike finally rasped, pulling his finger ever so slowly out of your mouth and using it to tuck a hair behind your ear.

“They’re very well made” you heard yourself respond, as though from another universe, balanced precariously close to Marcus’ curious expression. “DO YOU HAVE A FIRST AID KIT?” you yelled into his face with overt concern as Pike nearly fell backwards in surprise.

“Of course!” he quipped. “Check the study if you want, I think I’ll probably survive the blood loss thanks to your…quick thinking…” he smiled as your cheeks reddened. You gulped with embarrassment, making fast work of finding the first aid kit as Pike cleared the glass from the living room.

You carefully padded into the kitchen, sitting at the nearby barstool as Pike drifted in front of you. “S’okay Doc, it’s just a flesh wound” Pike joked, leaning against the counter and positioning himself rather closely between your spread knees. You cleared your throat with arousal, attempting to focus on the task at hand, grabbing some anti-bacterial. 

“I’ll be the judge of that, Agent” you smirked, unknowingly mirroring Pike’s clandestine dreamscape as he shifted awkwardly. You held his hand in yours, applying the spray and then blowing over his finger seductively, watching the light goosebumps splay across his forearms.

“I thought I heard voices downstairs, was somebody here? Did the storm lighten up?” you wondered, trying to get a read on Pike’s expression.

As though shaking himself from a daze Pike sighed heavily, answering, “No! I was just…uh…I talk in my sleep…” he grinned, turning his lower body slightly towards the counter. This was a surprising way to wake up and he wasn’t 100% sure if the rest of his body had gotten the message.

You nodded, peering out the window at the new layer of snow drifting from the sky. “It’s even worse!” you exclaimed, placing a bandaid around Pike’s pointer finger as he winced pathetically. “Sorry…” you apologized, planting a feather light kiss on the tip of his finger. 

Wow. I’m really laying it on thick, you thought. But seeing Marcus’ eyes crinkle appreciatively banished any self doubt that might have remained.

“Well, here at Pike’s Place, we remunerate friendly bedside manner with copious coffee. I assume you’d like your regular order m’lady?” Pike jested, squeezing your arm lightly with gratitude.

“Absolutely” you sighed, happy to re-start your daily routine. Somehow the last three days had transpired the way you wished the pandemic might have. Easy conversation as you worked from your laptop. Taking a lunch break mid-day you would join Pike around the small tv and flickering hearth, marveling at the manilla folders and envelopes of art curators, recent cases and photographs. Between laughter and mouthfuls of tuna fish sandwiches Pike was already teaching you a lot about art dealers and policing the black market. And as you finished your evening work, you and Pike would always watch another movie fueled by your questionable cooking attempts and…one too many bottles of Merlot. Is this how other people had waited out the pandemic? You reminded yourself to stop the comparison game and just be grateful for the moment you had. Tomorrow, Bessie could spring to life, or the blizzard could die down, and…there goes Christmas.

You swallowed, watching Pike’s fit form shuffle into the kitchen, pulling out two mugs and heating up the skillet for pancakes. Your heart lurched violently in your chest realizing that you had started placing an expectation on celebrating Christmas…with him. It wasn’t even a hope you’d articulated to yourself until this very moment, though you’d already cautioned your parents that things were proceeding unexpectedly and they should make other plans. But this was more than a haphazard circumstance, this was steadily becoming that aforementioned Hallmark Movie, but you weren’t sure you were up to heroine material.

Pike turned towards you, “Sugar?”

You frowned pensively, once again trying to reconcile the many doubts floating through your vision.

“Hey, what happened?” Pike teased. “Tired of my pancakes already? We can have…I think there’s a waffle iron here somewhere” he started rummaging around through the cabinets.

“No, I love your pancakes!” you piped up, “I was just…thinking…about Christmas” you trailed off, unsure of how much could be readily shared.

Pike paused reflectively, “Yeah, I’m really sorry about that. I’m sure, being stuck here with a complete stranger for the holidays wasn’t your dream vacation” he grimaced, pouring the arabica roast into an old fashioned coffee maker.

You stilled, surprised that Pike had somehow drawn the opposite conclusion from your emotional reality, but unsure how to convey the disconnect. “I mean, you’re not a complete stranger” you joked, tossing a bandage at his back to get his attention.

Pike turned, his face full of theatrical gravitas. “Ma’am that is not entirely hygienic hospital behavior at Pike’s Place” he shut the coffee machine with a flourish, stooping to pick up the tissue. “I was thinking…” he stopped abruptly, desperate to turn over a new leaf, but also conflicted regarding your confession. You waited, breath poised as the cogs turned in Pike’s head.

 “Thinking was your first mistake, Agent. I dare you to tell me that last thought. I double dog dare ya!” you teased from last night’s viewing of “A Christmas Story”.

Pike chuckled throwing up his hands in supplication. “I was determined to sulk around this Christmas until…” he gestured towards you, as you pantomimed a theatrical bow. “But as you might have guessed, Christmas is a big deal in the Pike household…”.

You gasped audibly, clutching your chest with dramatics. “What? From the apron and cookies and general holiday enthusiasm, I NEVER would have guessed!” you taunted, smelling the chocolatey aroma of coffee percolating in the sunshine infused kitchen.

“And lately, it’s almost like…Christmas is barreling towards us, gaining speed, and I just wish there was something I could do about it. For you. Or us. I mean, you” Pike tripped over the finish line, quickly resuming his cooking activities without ruining the entire proposition. Your face burst into a Cheshire-like grin. Of course. This didn’t seem like a man who was trying to get rid of you. Marcus seemed like the contemporary embodiment of Father Christmas, and he’d probably been waiting for such a moment as this to test the frigid waters. YOUR frigid waters if you’d ever loosen up.

“What did you have in mind?” you asked innocently enough, until Pike swirled around, running out of the kitchen enthusiastically.

“I’m so glad you asked, I’ve written down some ideas!” he nearly bounded into the study, rummaging around through his notebooks and displaying it proudly before you.

“How long have you been working on this?” you twinkled, skimming the lengthy list of possible Christmas activities to enjoy, during a blizzard.

“Just…since…you got here” Pike admitted, running back to get the brewing coffee before it bubbled over. “I mean…just brainstorming is all…we don’t have to…” Pike set about finishing breakfast as you read.

If there was a ten step program to celebrating a Hallmark Christmas this was it. You had to give it to him; Pike KNEW Christmas. And at this rate, Pike knew YOU. The only reason you hadn’t suggested these things was because you had turned into the Grinch. But no longer. 

“I like it. Work with you’ve got” you whispered, as Pike placed a steaming cup of coffee in front of you with questioning eyes and curiosity. 

“Too much? Not enough?” he joked, as you fingered the impressive drawings in the margins.

“I think it’s perfect”.

It looked like the pink snowsuit was about to get a dubious refrain as you and Pike endeavored to find Christmas in the snowy tundra. You bore a striking similarity to Randy Parker in your pillowy snowsuit, oversized boots and Lenny Kravitz style scarf. Between slipping and sliding out of Pike’s helpful grasp, you finally collapsed in a heap in the powdery snow, flailing your arms like a small child.

“I believe I am currently fulfilling Number 5 on your Christmas List” you giggled “though I’m not sure how many snow angels are bright pink!” you laughed as Pike gazed at you wonderingly.

“I believe it’s listed as Number 4, but you won’t be penalized for a technicality” Pike nearly jumped on top of you, amidst your squeals as he rolled to the side making his own snow angel beside you. A small, ill-formed snowball caught him across the neck, peppering his chest with an explosion of icy sensation as he sat up, forebodingly.

“Oh, is that the game you wanna play, California?” he cautioned, rolling to one side and compacting a large, skilled arsenal as you froze mid-play. 

“I surrender!” you tittered, throwing your hands above your head in mock surprise. “That wasn’t me. That was…Scrooge! The Grinch! I saw him sneaking around the cabin…” Pike lunged in your direction, caging you in against his body, poised to stuff a handful of snow down the front of your suit. Your eyes glimmered temptingly, simultaneously hopeful and terrified, as he thought better of it, throwing the snowball over his shoulder and offering you a hand up.

“I will not be dissuaded, Pink” he joked, attempting to pull you to your feet amidst giggles and protestations. “Even the Grinch will not deter us as we quest for Christmas!” Pike finally hoisted you upright, pulling you into his body closely, the smell of coffee, mint and pine tingling your nose coldly. Your lips numbed in anticipation. Was he going to kiss you? He held your gaze for what felt like an eternity, as the snowy landscape somehow burned warmly. Licking his lips and taking a deep breath he pulled back, holding your lower back with a steadying hand. “Now to find our Christmas Tree” he announced, trudging towards the woodshed, ostensibly to get an axe of some kind.

That wasn’t just in your head, right? you mused, watching his athletic form cut a path through the waist high snowdrift towards a patch of smaller trees. Was your buddy, Pike just playing it safe? Or did Marcus feel the same atmospheric crackle that you just did? Once again you flashed on the photograph of Lisbon, somehow juxtaposed by a sorrowful image of you pacing the floor in your self-imposed, pandemic quarantine. Were you so desperate for connection you were imagining things? Or was there something more between you and Pike? Pike beamed broadly from about 50 feet away, shaking a small pine free of dotty snowflakes and cupping his hand to his mouth, “What d’ya think, Pink? Is this the one?”

You smiled to yourself clandestinely. Oh yes Agent Pike, this might be the one indeed.

Pike dragged a small pine tree over the threshold as he simultaneously attempted to corral your giggling, unsure footing into the cabin’s cozy interior. Pike slammed the door shut, grinning broadly as you slipped wildly backwards, grabbing onto to his waist comically.

“Okayeeee California! Thank God we’re not sending you back out on the road quite yet! We’ve got a Christmas to assemble, and you look like Bambi on ice…”

You were having trouble catching your breath, a steady stream of uncontrollable laughter racking your ribs and threatening your bladder. ALL of that pent up pandemic pressure was FINALLY starting to dissipate, and you were starting to feel euphoric in the possibility. Pike pulled you to your feet, unzipping the hood of your snowsuit, his finger lingering at your sternum for a moment. 

“Sorry I’m a little weak-knee’d” you uttered breathlessly as Pike looked down at your blue-tinged lips. You watched his Adam’s Apple bob painfully in his throat as he begrudgingly pulled back with a doleful smile. 

“Um…Happy to get you back on your feet” he stuttered, searching for the rusted Christmas Tree stand in the hallway closet. You took a deep breath attempting to rally your resolve. You couldn’t tell if Pike reciprocated or was just being cordial. Heaven’s knows you found yourself in a unique situation, but you didn’t want to make the same mistakes from the past, becoming so isolated that you couldn’t reach out and accept a gift that was right in front of you. Somehow, you’d have to ascertain what the situation was with the ex. Did he still love her? Why did they break up? Or was this just another case of slipping into the friend zone? As your cold exterior had begun to melt, was it already too late, or could things be salvaged, much like this MacGyver’d Christmas? There was only one way to find out.

“What do you think?” Pike stepped back from his quick work, admiring the victorious and homey tree that wobbled proudly next to the hearth. “A Christmas miracle in the making!”

“It’s perfect” you beamed, excited to see where the evening’s festivities would take you. 

“Moving on to the arts and crafts portion of our day” Pike teased, “I think there is some kind of bird or ham hiding in the outdoor freezer, which means all that remains is finding…the perfect gift” Pike paused dramatically.

You burst into another bout of laughter, unsure of his meaning, “Do you have a Macy’s hiding out back that I’m unaware of?”

Pike rolled his eyes comedically as you dusted off your snow boots and plopped unceremoniously onto the couch to defrost.

“Pink, you can’t have a Christmas without gifts, we just have to think outside of the box. Literally” he sat down next to you, propping his feet up on the coffee table and gazing at the crackling fire pensively.

“I’m gonna need to know way more about my target audience before I go shopping” you mused. “I’m fairly certain Amazon doesn’t deliver via chimney, and unless you are pining for a crowbar, my options are limited” you paused. “Twenty questions?”

“Shoot” Pike teased.

“Favorite color?”

“Blue”.

“Music genre?”

“Jazz”.

Your eyebrows cocked upward. Noted.

“Favorite food?”

“Depends. Are you cooking?”

You kicked Pike lightly on the shin as he began chuckling.

“Best gift you ever received?”

The atmosphere in the room stiffened slightly as Pike readjusted on the couch. “Uhhhh…well…Lisbon gave me a signed screenplay of ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’, last year…it’s…uh…in storage now…” he trailed off, disappointed at the finality of the story. Your breath caught in your throat hesitantly. This was it. This was the information you needed, but you didn’t want to push things when so much of the day had been steeped in perfection.

“Oh, I’m sorry, we don’t have to…” you began, until Pike waved you off, gesticulating.

“If we’re going to be celebrating the holidays together, I probably need to revisit Christmas Past. It’s just a little…embarrassing…” he nudged the coffee table with a small pout.

“More embarrassing than isolating yourself completely for two years?” you encouraged, willing Pike to share anything that would offer insight. “Or was it more embarrassing than this bright pink snowsuit I can’t seem to escape, despite my best efforts?” you teased, attempting to lighten the mood.

“Fair enough” Pike acquiesced. “Though…I am still very partial to pink” he admitted, choosing his next words carefully. “Lisbon…my ex…just didn’t…we weren’t on the same page” he confessed, as though for the first time. His eyes took on a shine that didn’t seem entirely related to the cold. “I made some mistakes, and…read the signs wrong…and she broke it off. She’s with somebody else…who isn’t me” a momentary pained look flashed across his face before resuming its quintessential good natured complexion. “Your turn” he ventured.

“Shoot”.

“Favorite color?”

You tilted your head telepathically.

Pike tossed his hands up in surrender. “Favorite music?”

“Jazz” you pursed your lips mischievously.

“No cheating in class, please” Pike joked. “Favorite gift?”

The deep silence that stilled in your chest felt simultaneously liberating and cavernous as you realized how long it had been since the holidays felt…normal.

“Last year I had to do Christmas alone and it was really…weird” you recollected. “I finally opted to buy myself a really fancy journal so I wouldn’t feel so lonely” you shared, blushing slightly at the admission. 

“So…your best gift was…you” Pike smiled, satisfied with the description. You were a bit less satisfied, collapsing in on yourself and kicking him again, this time on the flank. 

“Shutup” you whispered, aware that in some respects, he was right.

Pike grinned knowingly and hoisted himself up with a huff, heading to the kitchen. “Time for Pike’s Place to get to work on the afternoon rush” he teased, grabbing his holiday apron and starting lunch. Your eyes narrowed ambitiously. This was the key. Lisbon might have known Pike, but she didn’t know what a gift she had in her grasp, and you weren’t going to make the same mistake. Sounds like she had dropped the ball, and not taken every advantage in front of her. This was one Christmas gift you were determined to unwrap, proving to Pike once and for all that he was more than worth the wait. 

Finally satiated in holiday magic, you and Pike laughed over crumbling sandwiches in the small dining room. Your laptop, helplessly shoved to the side, did nothing to dissuade the celebratory events as Pike spread an impressive cornucopia of magazines and newspapers to begin the “arts and crafts” portion of Christmas. Your Girl Scout badges were finally coming to fruition. Pike was annoyingly prodigious at all things artistic and had soon crafted more than a few impressive ornaments whilst regaling you with curated art insights. Lisbon was an idiot. Fuck it. YOU were Donna Reed, not in a snood and not in a pink snowsuit. You were gonna seize a page from Pike’s enthusiastic Place and grab Christmas by the balls. Or maybe Pike! Gasp. Marcus. Riiiiiight. Marcus. The force of your abrupt arousal throbbed noisily between your legs as you shifted slightly. Drawing yourself back into reality you found Pike gazing at you fixedly. You started at the intensity of his stare, hoping he wasn’t telepathically gifted.

“Getting bored?” Pike redirected, setting down the scissors and glue and looking outside at the resuming snowfall.

“Hardly” you muttered, just under your breath. The phone rang.

The phone rang?

Pike’s mouth dropped about a foot as you both froze expectantly. “What in the hell?” Pike laughed, running towards the study, barely remembering the landline that hadn’t been used in ages. “Pike’s Place, how may I direct your call?” you heard his muffled tones through the door stifling your laughter. You really had stepped back in time. The cabin grew eerily quiet as Pike spoke in hushed tones and finally hung up the phone. You swallowed noiselessly. Was something wrong? Was there a family emergency? Lisbon hadn’t reared her beautiful head again, had she? The sheer enormity of possibility stretched in front of you as Pike’s disappointed face flashed in front of you for a millisecond.

“Good news!” he exclaimed, wiping the conflicted look from his face almost immediately and sitting back down at the table. You breathed a sigh of relief, though still unsure of his unreadable reactions. “If it really is a problem with your transmission, like before, the mechanic finally ordered the CV joints and can give you a tow back into town tomorrow…” Pike delivered his monologue perfunctorily, trying to plaster a jovial smile on his otherwise lackluster expression, pausing in masked defeat. “Merry Christmas Pink, you’re free!”

You tried to hide your immediate disappointment, peering out the window to hide any blossoming tears and noting the short cessation of snowfall. “On Christmas Eve?” you cynically observed, trying to keep the harsh bite out of your tone, but reverting to a Scrooge like facade. 

“You don’t have to go to Macy’s after all!” Pike overtly chimed, a bit too melodically, settling into the silence of the anti-climax and gazing around the formerly happy cabin. The hearth crackled joyfully as “A Christmas Story” played on endless repeat on the television. Though the small Christmas Tree, devoid of ornaments seemed to slump in defeat. You bit your lower lip, gazing at the snow covered lump that was Bessie and trying to stifle a snow storm of tears hovering behind your eyes. 

“That’s wonderful news” you droned, not attempting to hide the obvious disappointment in your tone. It seemed ludicrous to indulge your now obsolete Christmas fantasies, but at what cost? You couldn’t even get to your parents in time this late in the season, and the tremendous repeated isolation seemingly stretched out before you. Another Christmas alone and perched on what was poised to be your best Christmas yet. “Guess I better get packing!” your voice cracked suddenly as you dove up the stairwell, wiping away stray tears as Pike called after you concernedly. Running up the stairs you slammed the door shut, throwing yourself on the bed dramatically. You couldn’t even stop the now steady stream of tears, muffling your cries into the pillowcase. There goes the holidays. There goes Pike. There goes your very own “Christmas Story”, up in ashes in the glimmering fireplace. A Merry Fucking Christmas.

Pike swallowed hard, hearing the upstairs bedroom slam shut theatrically. He had expected you to be delighted, but rushing upstairs to pack? Something didn’t add up; were you really so desperate to escape Pike’s Place? Pike forlornly gazed around the cabin, trying to once again cajole himself into celebrating the holidays alone. I mean, this is what he had planned. Survive the holidays and return to life. A life without love. Pike shook his head abruptly, gathering up the ornaments and trudging to the Christmas Tree. Help out a stray roadster in need. Drown sorrows in Merlot. Pike flashed on his repeated nightmares of Lisbon and Christmas chaos. Maybe scale back on the Merlot, he reprimanded himself. It wasn’t a surprise that he had once again misread the signals. It’s what he seemed to do best. But you’d seemed thoroughly delighted with the day’s festivities, and he had mirrored it. Just another mis-step Pike, he chided himself. The main thing now was to focus on giving you a celebratory send off, and getting back to the realities of work and solitude. Pike stepped back from the now decorated tree, gazing at it appraisingly. Time for this Holiday Fantasy to come to a close, he reasoned. Stop thinking with your heart, and start thinking with your head. Time to grow up, Pike. Maybe Christmas is really just for kids.

You needed several hours to regain your composure and pack your few belongings. You gazed annoyed at the stupid pink snowsuit hanging in the corner. Almost as though rehearsing a play, you began to fashion your monologue for departure. “Thank you again for all of your help, I couldn’t have survived this experience without you!” you chirped, hoping to convince yourself that a quick exit was the only solution. The choppy waves of emotions threatened to cascade over you with every re-direction as you exhaustedly sat on the bed. What if you didn’t just take this lying down? You might be leaving tomorrow, but what if you made some sort of grand gesture? Marcus had said that Lisbon chose.somebody else? Maybe this was your chance once and for all to prove to Marcus that he was worth the same care and enthusiasm that overflowed so naturally out of his very personhood.  Over the last several days, he had done nothing but shower you with care and concern. Wasn’t it time to jump into the holidays with both of your snow-booted feet, and take a genuine risk? 

Your nose crinkled delightedly in curiosity. You HAD to be imagining things. Your mouth began to salivate like Pavlov’s Dogs, tentatively opening the door and tiptoeing down the stairs hesitantly. Billowing fragrances of ham, chocolate, and wine wafted over you as you smirked at the twinkling Christmas Tree now fully decorated. The record player in the corner was playing some Ella Fitzgerald as “A Christmas Story” repeatedly looped on mute. Your mouth dropped open upon seeing the candlelit dinner shining before you.

“What the fuck?” you whispered, as Pike peeked his head around the corner.

“Merry Christmas?” Pike shrugged with chagrin, removing his apron and straightening his tie. You stood gaping, completely speechless at the celebratory sight glowing before you. This was more than anybody deserved, particularly you. Somehow you had stumbled into “An Unexpected Christmas Story”, and you weren’t going to wait for anyone else to pull it from your grasp.

“It’s too much, right?” Pike winced with embarrassment. “I just figured…I couldn’t eat this ham all by myself…and…we ought to…celebrate your return to freedom on this somewhat snowy Christmas Eve…eve…” he trailed off, desperately hoping this fell under the facade of friendship. You might not reciprocate his feelings, but life had taught him to seize whatever joy crosses your path, because opportunities evaporate at a moment’s notice. And he was just grateful to be enjoying the moment he was in…with you.

Without saying a word, you ran into his arms, grasping him tightly about the neck, determined to hold your tears at bay.

“Whoa!” Pike mumbled into your hair, surprised at your reaction, but pleased nonetheless. “I’m just glad Bessie brought you to my doorstop to remind me about the true meaning of Christmas” Pike chuckled. “Which is, always get your transmission checked before a long sojourn” Pike pulled back to tuck a stray hair behind your ear hesitatingly “…and always expect the unexpected”.

This was it. You picked at the edges of your sweater nervously, as you and Pike sat on the couch watching the umpteenth reshowing of the AMC classic. You were already three glasses of Merlot in, particularly as Pike had refrained, but you couldn’t seem to get enough liquid courage into your system to fuel your plans of seduction. Your eyes traveled to the shimmering Christmas Tree aglow with homemade ornaments and frivolity. A small hiccup racked your body as you noticed a manilla envelope with a bow sparsely dotting the otherwise barren underskirt. Was that a gift??? You covered your mouth in incredulity, about to scoff at Pike’s preparation before hearing his contented breathing next to you. You knew he was a morning person, but perhaps the day’s events had tuckered him out. He was dozing peacefully next to you, fingers twitching mere inches from your thigh. A pained expression crossed your face, adoring the placid expression and parted lips that greeted you. Oh God, he was so handsome. Admiring his aquiline nose and fluttering brown eyelashes, your Merlot fueled gaze hungrily absorbed how broad his shoulders were and the sinewy veins pulsing at his neck, underneath his now loosened tie. Baby Jesus Christ. You unbuttoned the top of your shirt, once again overheating in the worst blizzard of a decade. You looked out the darkened window seeing a fresh batch of snow cascading downward. Cindy Lou be praised, maybe there was a way to redeem this turn of events, if you could just grab Christmas by the ornamental balls, and maybe Pike in the process. You reached for the nearby glass of Merlot, eyeing the bulge in Pike’s pants conspiratorially. Was he …? You blinked nonsensically over the rim of your wine glass, hoping to bypass your own insecurities. From the tv, Ralphie Parker touted the benefits of an official red-rider carbine action two hundred shot range model air rifle BB gun. You knew exactly what you wanted to give Pike for Christmas. But were you going to be brave enough to pull the trigger?

Pike felt the echoes of his discontent pulling him further and further down. He wanted to be happy for your apparent victory, and enjoy the remaining time he had with you, but he also couldn’t keep his eyes open. Early mornings and poor sleep lulled him into a dozing stupor as the ghost of Lisbon kept jostling him awake. With a start, he sat up, the television off, cabin cold and barren, save the glowing light of your room at the top of the stairwell. Nooooooo. He took in the shimmering Christmas Tree and empty bottle of Merlot, sad that Christmas had come and gone so anticlimactically. He gazed down at the manilla envelope, planning to give it to you before you left. He felt his heart wrench in his chest uncomfortably, acknowledging yet another loss. Why did the holidays always inspire so much pathos in him? Where was his “Wonderful Life?”, and why did it always seem to be slipping from his grasp?

Your fingertips dragged seductively over his shoulder to his forearm, and like something out of a dream, you floated into his view, clad only in your delicate pink bra and lace panties, silhouetted by the sparkling fire. Pike’s voice caught in his throat, completely captivated by the glowing figure in front of him. His eyes trailed hungrily over your curving frame, turning his palms up in supplication and hoping beyond hope that things would turn out better than his past romances. Without saying a word, you straddled his hips and began circling them enticingly. His eyelids fluttered shut as his head fell back against the couch, delicately bringing his fingers across the smooth skin of your ass. He whispered your name sacredly. It felt like a miracle. “Miracle at Pike’s Place…”

Pike’s pretty eyelashes were fluttering in sleep as you moved slightly closer to his warm body. His lips were moving incoherently as his palms sat upward on his lap imploringly. You couldn’t help but be magnetically pulled to his supplicant posture….and then…he whispered your name. It wasn’t so much of a whisper as a soft moan, as your eyes shot up to his sleeping countenance. Oh God, don’t have to tell me twice, your Merlot addled brain reasoned. With all the nuance of a bulldozer you practically leapt onto Pike’s lap, placing both hands on his broad shoulders as he grabbed you around the waist confusedly.

“W-what?” Pike mumbled, heart pounding fiercely in his chest and waking to find you astride his lap, lower lip stained in wine.

“Is this okay?” you asked, realizing the cart was significantly in front of the horse at this point, but you didn’t care. Not only was your libido exploding like a firecracker, you were officially out of time. Or were you? You placed your hands lightly to the sides of Pike’s neck, pulling him towards you. “Can I kiss you?” you beseeched him, grabbing at the collar of his dress shirt and woman-handling the loose tie.

“K-kiss me” he repeated dumbly, eyes wide as saucers.

You had no idea if that was a question or a statement, but the Merlot had other plans. You smashed your lips to his with abandon as you felt his hands melt into your back, drawing down your body passionately. It was everything you had been dreaming about and more, but within a few seconds, Pike was pulling back. 

“Wait, wait…we can’t do this…” he panted, clearly conflicted in the heat of the moment.

“Pretty sure we’re two grown-ups, we can do whatever we want” you mumbled into his neck, kitten licking up by his earlobe. You felt his body shudder underneath you excitingly.

“No…I mean…I’m out of time…we’re out of time…” he implored, pushing back from you every so slightly.

“It’s okay! I’m not going to leave tomorrow…I’ve decided to stay! I want a Christmas with you…” you blushed unabashedly at the revelation, but in for a penny, in for a pound. You didn’t want to celebrate the holidays with anyone else, and this was your chance to prove to Pike what the last few days had meant to you.

“No, you don’t understand!” Pike grabbed your hands, pulling them in front of your body. “I’M leaving…” he stated emphatically, looking directly into your eyes so there could be no misunderstandings.

You didn’t understand.

“What do you mean?” you stammered, halting your movements and pulling back with embarrassment. “I…I mean…I’m not drunk…I’m a little tipsy…but…you don’t have to leave…I mean…I thought…” you couldn’t grab the thread of understanding as Pike’s gaze continued to soften with concern. You slid off of his lap, gathering up your knees to your chest, sitting as far from him as possible on the living room couch. “Pike, where are you going?” you held your breath, willing yourself to disappear under the floorboards.

“I…I’m leaving…after Christmas” he apologized, seeing your still confused expression. “I don’t work in the Sacramento offices anymore. I’m moving to Washington D.C”.

*thanks @unknown-till for the cool dividers!

PB + J: Interview

I've been seeing this cute questions prompt, and it got me wondering how the man himself might respond. Before I knew it, Pedge was! At least in my IMAGINATION. I have imbibed most of his interviews so it's an educated GUESS, but I also like writing dialogue and this was a fun exercise.

It's also interesting how many times Pedge acts as an avatar for my personal growth or emotional exploration. As always, Pedge is a self-made man, if you count Bitmoji and my FABRICATED answers...

Do you make your bed?

J: Never. I detest it. I want at least one area of my life that stays cozy and messy and immediately ready for cuddles. Plus I’m single, so nobody else to answer to.

Pedge: If I remember. I’m kind of lazy. When given the chance, I’m a homebody so….wait, do I have a guest? 

Favorite Number? 

J: Seven? Three? I’m not superstitious, but I like patterns.

Pedge: Favorite number? Uh…2 billion…and FIVE! Point…6. 

What’s your job?

J: How much time have you got? I think of myself as an artist and collegiate professor. I specialize in music, theater and art mentorship.

Pedge: The jury’s still out. I’m trying. I think it’s official, but who knows? Trying to play in the sandbox over here. Would love to write some more. One dream at a time…

If you could go back to school would you?

J: Absolutely. I’m a collegiate professor so I go to school for a living. But I would get every degree, every subject…okay not EVERY subject…

Pedge: Absolutely not. I kind of….suck at school. I’m very good at reading. I’m voracious. But school and I were not a great fit.

Can you parallel park?

J: Yes, nervously. I had an apartment in college that required parallel parking, but downtown areas make me tremendously anxious. I hate doing it.

Pedge: Um, hello? Whataryatalkinabot? Yeah. I live in LA. Well, when I’m not in NY, and there nobody drives. I mean, I guess I’d rather walk? Without talking…I’ve got headphones.

Can you drive a manual car?

J: Nope. My grandma taught me to drive a tractor. Does that count? Don’t think I remember…

Pedge: Uh…I don’t know. Do I? I feel like this is one of those questions where they ask if you can do something so you lie about it on your resume. Yes. I also can ride a horse. That one I can actually do…

What’s your guilty pleasure?

J: Smoking. I have a weekly cigarillo and read Tumblr. Boop.

Pedge: NOTHING. I have no guilty pleasures…because pleasure is not something to feel guilty about. I did like smoking in Narcos. Narcossss. 

Tattoos?

J: I’ve been planning four very specific tattoos, particularly after my hysterectomy last year. But I’m waiting for the right time. Not sure when that is exactly…

Pedge: Yes. Next question.

Favorite Color?

J: Yes. I like all colors.

Pedge: I like colorful things. Colorful people. I’ve never forgotten that quote by Alice Walker, “I think it pisses God off if you walk by the color purple and don’t notice it”. I just finished reading “The Autobiography of Red” by Anne Carson. And I like “Bluets” by Maggie Nelson…

Do you like puzzles?

J: Definitely, but my mom is the expert. I like Lego Sets and internal emotional puzzles.

Pedge: Don’t have the patience. I can like…stand and point where things would go. I’ll boss you around while you work on a puzzle…I’d rather read…

Any phobias?

J: The ocean. This is ridiculous because I grew up on the West Coast, but I’ve only “swum” in the ocean once, in Mexico. I also dislike thinking about infinity. It’s just too scary.

Pedge: Phobias? Spiders? I like horror movies, so I’d take a good scare, especially in the cinema. Unemployment? Does that count? 

Favorite Childhood Sport:

J: Dance. Running? I didn’t get into half marathons until adulthood, so PE was a terrifying experience. Can we never do dodgeball again? 

Pedge: Viva Chile! I like futbol. I mean, soccer. If we win. WHEN we win…I swam competitively as a kid. Until I didn’t.

Do you talk to yourself?

J: Constantly. This is an ongoing monologue that never ceases. Why do you think I’m in the arts.

Pedge: Isn’t that…what we’re doing now? Wait, what is this? Who are you? Whyaruaskinmeallthesequestons? Yes. Sometimes I can’t get myself to shut up. Now, if I would only listen.

*thanks @thecutestgrotto for the dividers!

Pedge Tease

Pedge felt like a little tease today and wanted to know if you'd like an early release of the Roll-a-Trope "Pike's Place Episode Four"? It's slated for release this weekend, but if I get more than 10 votes in the affirmative, we'll release it tonight :) What do you think? Delayed gratification?

Pike felt the pulse of your thighs holding him securely in place, as you gripped his wrists, gently pulling them behind his back. His eyelids fluttered momentarily, surprised at this forward change in tonality. You began lazily circling your hips over his gray sweatpants. Somehow his eyes were closed, but he was seeing every detail of your rosy complexion. Every freckle. Every crease. Every sumptuous plump and wrinkle was etched in his mind as his hips jerked forward into your hold. “M-more…” he stuttered, gulping loudly, slightly ashamed at his unabashed reaction. “More pleassssse…” he hissed, hearing the slight smirk as your voice retorted, “I’m the one calling the shots, Agent”. His head lolled lazily back as he tried to focus on his breathing, and not the feel of your breasts bouncing lightly against his bare chest. “More, more, more…” he mumbled incoherently as you increased your tempo....

My Darling Muse (iii),

Dieter is in LOVE. He's just not sure if he's met them yet. But in the interim, he's keeping a journal to house all of his inspiration, poetry and recipes, before they fly out of his head. And once he meets the ONE...or ONES...this is going to be his gift to you. Along with those sexy time IOU's he's always handing out...

Triggers: it's Dieter bub so this series will DEFINITELY include profanity, drugs, blood, alcohol, sex, smut and any meanderings D wants...He's endlessly inspired by art, poetry, songs, sex and YOU!

Series Masterlist

Rothko's "Red On Maroon", thanks @thecutestgrotto for dividers!

My Darling Muse,

I am a gaping wound, Aligned with your iron fluidity Throbbing with the passion of blood Warming at your scalding touch Like lava, I flow unbidden, a verse of self unhindered and free Pulsing, ebbing, molten and boiling Pistoning forward in poisonous acid, I am the red monster Alight with desire, wings unfurled in splendor and terror I survey all and know little, a word unspoken A thought unuttered, a feeling unrequited, A husk of a shell unravelled, like trinkets in a wind chime My words bounce on a red dawn A red tide that bears stealthy fruition A soundless crimson wave of meaning, Into your chasm I plummet, into the red void I sojourn Feathered wings in pained approach Molt and melt like Icarus, I am the red death I am the maroon birth, I am love alight And rage unaltered (scribbled in margins: Was Rothko bi? Is blood a good paint substitute? What's it like to date a vampire? Can I list myself as a Google location? Online anger management...with goats.)

Hey folks! This is J, Dieter's PA. I'm not sure if he even knows who I am, but I also run his TikTok page so he can "commune with the proletariat". His fellow actor and good buddy Pedro Pascal recently recommended "Autobiography of Red" by Anne Carlson. And Dieter has similarly been obsessed with John Logan's production of "Red"....No Dieter, I won't mention you thought it was originally a musical about menstruation...

My Darling Muse (ii),

Dieter is in LOVE. He's just not sure if he's met them yet. But in the interim, he's keeping a journal to house all of his inspiration, poetry and recipes, before they fly out of his head. And once he meets the ONE...or ONES...this is going to be his gift to you. Along with those sexy time IOU's he's always handing out. As always, love this post @for-a-longlongtime, and inspired by the Trope-Off

Trigger: it's Dieter bub so this series will DEFINITELY include profanity, drugs, alcohol, sex, smut and any meanderings D wants...He's endlessly inspired by art, poetry, songs, sex and YOU!

Series Masterlist

Goya's "Drowning Dog *thanks @anitalenia for the cool dividers

My Darling Muse,

Like a dog, I lap at your wounds Drinking you in, drowning in your juices Swallowing + swallowing me I am adrift at sea without you, turning in the tumult Pverwhelmed and isolated i have abandoned myself To worship at your dwelling I journey and journey in the labyrinth of your rose Clawing and grasping, biting at the hand that feeds How long have I been lost? To what supple kingdoms do I travel? Am I found anew in your arms? Re-birthed in this self-death I swim in a sea of salty tears, An ocean of my own making I lance together my bones, fashioning a mighty raft Until I drift into your treasured embrace Woof. (scribbled in the margins: What does LSD stand for? Out of Kit-Kats. Are dogs bi? NA mg in semen? Oil Paint-good for lubricant? Is cannabis an aphrodisiac?)

*Hey folks, this is J, Dieter's PA. I'm not sure if he actually knows who I am, but I try to replenish his Kit-Kats whenever I can. Dieter says his fellow actor Pedro Pascal is an art afficianado and loves all things Talk Art. Don't forget to check out his delightful insights...sorry...watch Dieter's movies FIRST. I got it Dieter, thank you...I don't know if they've seen "Cliff Beasts 6"...I'll ask...

Pedge, Painter, Poet...Writer?

I KNOW I'm not the first person to fantasize this supposition, but how many of us want PP on Tumblr anonymously? He's already a playwright, avid reader...fan. Who wants to bet he would have a ghost writer at some point, or venture into the literary landscape unannounced?

@for-a-longlongtime

Pedge's Bonfire

Pedro Scouts was my first Tumblr activity ever and it was a GREAT summer activity to participate in! Things have been winding down with Fall responsibilities, but Pedge and I needed to get away and garner a couple more badges! Ah, nature....All of my reblogs are found on my second account @pedrotease!

Endured the Storm: Blossom Beauty, Blossom A Very Special Episode of PB + J Fantasy: Good Girl @aurorawritestoescape Trope Off-Sex Pollen Din Djarin One Shot @auteurdelabre The Correspondence of the Contagious @crowandmousewritingco Touchstone @sawymredfox Road Trip: Are You Alright, Honey? @javigutierrez Knuckles Deep @ozarkthedog Knuckle Deep in the Backseat @cxrsed-angel Changed Username: I lurked on Tumblr for almost a full year before I started writing! I used to be @shadowcupcakewitch but she is no longer. Now we are all Pedge, all the time...

I'm also celebrating 100 reblogs with @burntheedges Roll-a-Trope Challenge reblog of "Pike's Place"! Thanks @inept-the-magnificent for the cool rec's and encouragements on this Slow Burn Winter Series, final installment on Christmas Day. Now, Pedge and I better get back to camping, we only have one sleeping bag, whatever will we do?

Moody Rockford

This marketing was so spot on for "Merge Mansion". I'd love to write for Tim Rockford someday, but in the interim, check out @inept-the-magnificent "Nebble Files" and @ghotifishreads "Tim Rockford Short". And hey. You don't have to take my word for it...

The Big Goodbye (NY, NY Series Finale)

This series was so healing for me. My writing is obviously self-indulgent, so please proceed at your own risk. I'm sad to bid these two farewell, BUT anytime I'm missing NY or need more Pedge in my life, I'm just gonna pop in for a short.

Triggers: RPF, profanity, Narcos audition, alcohol, friends with benefits, goodbyes, artistic rejection, smut...I wanted to explore intimacy and the ways we love on one another that are non-traditional (hope you enjoy as I did!)

Series Masterlist

The words were ringing in the air along with the heavy patter of hypnotic raindrops.

“It’s a no. I didn’t get it”.

Your mouth parted slightly in surprise. Juxtaposed by the surrealistic events of the day the echo of reality seemingly throbbed in your being, watching P’s chest rise and fall with a heavy melancholy.

He swallowed harshly, turning his back to you again and pocketing the cell phone. You suddenly felt the dripping weight of the rain, clinging to your clothes, squeaking in your shoes. The once fragrant heat of the greenhouse now mildewed in soiled oppression, anger starting to leak out of you. Motherfucking "Narcos". They can’t even see what is glaringly obvious in front of them. But you could. Pedge placed his hands on his hips, a ripple of anxiety cascading across his back and neck. You could almost feel the rising lump in his throat from where you stood. Trying to shrug off the familiar feeling of rejection. So many auditions. So much indecision. So much insecurity. This industry could be a fucking nightmare, but to have so many “maybes”. So many “almosts”. You could only go to brunch and coffees and wine tastings so many times before it caught up with you. How do people expect us to have a thick enough skin, surviving the many rejections, but also remaining transparently vulnerable enough to process the emotions of artistry and humanity? There’s always a breaking point, and you were looking at one small example of it, standing in front of you.

Your eyebrows creased in concern. Sigh. Now, what was your motivation? Some intimacy coach you were. Nurturing? Comic relief? Logic? Lots of ways to handle fragility, but what offers the best support? You bit your lower lip, still tasting the cinnamon flavors of his chapstick. All of your senses were heightened as you reached out for his shoulder tentatively.

“Pedge….”.

“S’okay” he muttered perfunctorily, swinging around a bit too quickly and plastering a mostly believable grin across his face. “It was a long shot anyways” he tilted his head with joviality, coaxing a wry smile. “Win some, you lose some” he voice cracked a little at the end as he shifted with discomfort, looking down at his shoes. “See! Even Mother Nature is pissed on my behalf!” he shouted, arms outstretched, trying to lighten the moment.

You chuckled, mostly for his benefit, feeling the sting of your own insecurities and rejections coming to the surface. “Idiots!” you yelled to the greenhouse ceiling, attempting to diffuse the newfound tension. 

“Cabrones!” he exclaimed, gesturing to heaven as a loud clap resounded authoritatively. He grinned back at you in supplication, shrinking down a bit, deferentially. “Come on, let’s get out of here…”. You took each others waist on the exit, ducking from the all-encompassing rain, running in short bursts all the way back to the subway entrance.

Teetering precariously on the humming subway, you held Pedge’s hand tightly in your own. You’d learned a lot from the Big Apple, as you braced your legs in a wide stance, hugging the subway pole territorially and glancing up at this countenance surreptitiously. There was no doubt in your mind Pedge was a great actor, but there were some things that didn’t need to be fabricated. You could feel the self doubt rolling in waves off of his shoulders, as he bit his lip with a worried repetition. Pulsing your hand in his, his eyes immediately shot up to yours with curiosity. “My place?” he squeaked, attempting to pull himself back into the real world.

“Mine” you intoned lightly, bringing his encased hand around your back supportively. He nodded quickly, slipping back into his tumultuous state of mind. You weren’t sure what Pedge needed in this moment, but whatever it was, you were determined to give it to him. He had given you so much during your time in New York, and this moment was about him. Your stomach flipped with anticipation, as you realized you were mostly packed for tomorrow’s exit. You didn’t know how to reconcile the many emotions coursing through your veins, as the city whirred past you in a blurry din of lights and streaking raindrops. Excitement, confusion, dread, concern, curiosity…it was a tumult of electricity moving through you much like the city itself. P sniffled forlornly, hugging your hip and offering you a tight smile. 

“Thanks” he offered matter of factly, unsure of how else to communicate the complexity of the moment. You turned your body towards his, caging him in and touching his face lightly. 

“Hey,” he locked eyes with you as you whispered “it’s going to be okay”. A flicker of pain flashed across his face for a millisecond before it quickly armored up in the buzzing atmosphere. Your voice caught in your throat, knowing EXACTLY how P felt in this uncertain situation, poised before an unknown adventure on the horizon.

The subway started to grind to a metallic stop as you teased Pedge with his earlier retort. “Gotta expect the unexpected”. He smiled with fatigue, his shoulders heavy with gravitas, as you approached your stop. Leading him wordlessly by the hand you exited the  subway and quietly made your way down the street. Gazing at the flickering lamplights, uproarious laughter and honking taxi cabs you wished you could forever house him in a cocoon of safety, but soon enough. Hitting the doorstep to your Airbnb, you double checked once more, “Come up for a night cap?”

Pedge nodded quietly, eyes gazing downward. You pursed your lips pensively, cupping his face in your hand and bringing his eyes up to meet your face. “I have wine” you offered forlornly, rubbing your thumb in a small circle across his cheek. 

“Perfect for whining” he almost whimpered, losing steam by the second.

Hand firmly clasped and trudging up the stairs you led him into the apartment, dropping your purse and rain soaked shoes at the door. You set about pouring two glasses of Pinot Noir and returned to the door finding Pedge unmoving, where you’d left him. He was shivering slightly with his arms folded tightly over his chest, looking downward. Somehow his broad shoulders and chest had collapsed further down, and he looked so small. Almost like a little boy, fretting about stolen candy.

“Drink up” you offered, placing the wine glass in his hand and toasting it with a clinking sound. He grinned with an air of melancholy, downing the glass in one fell swoop and breathing heavily. “I know this is the last thing you want to hear right now, but I’m toasting you. I’m toasting us…”. He rolled his eyes with self-annoyance, tightening his lips in a fine line to prevent himself from speaking. “You were fucking GREAT in that scene” you congratulated him, as he took a shuddering breath, playing with the slightly frayed edges of his now drying dress shirt. “I’m serious” you stepped directly under his chin, nosing the bristling patches of his beard and coaxing his eyes towards yours. “I’m a touring Broadway performer…and I KNOW talent when I see it” you chided self-deprecatingly as he smiled slyly, still not meeting your eyes completely. “It’s not everyone who gets to die on Game of Thrones” you teased, kicking his booted foot with your bare one.

“I’m pretty sure that’s the status quo” his voice cracked in defeat, trying to drain the dregs of his mostly empty wine glass and pouting slightly. “Seconds?” he quipped, handing the glass back to you. 

“Definitely” you encouraged, downing your glass quickly as well. You gazed over at the pumping radiator hissing angrily in the corner as Pedge removed his shoes and headed over to the couch, plopping down unceremoniously. Pouring two more glasses of wine you came to join him, setting the glasses down on the nearby coffee table. 

“You’re all wet” you reprimanded, running a tender hand through his hair and drawing it down his neck. 

Pedge smiled mischievously to himself, “What, are we doing our scene again?” he teased, tilting his head sideways on his elbow.

“We get better every time we practice” you drew your finger across his brow which had become furrowed in bitter recollection. 

“What I’m missing in my apartment is a woman” he sighed, placing his palm over your thigh and sliding his fingers ever so slightly under the rain soaked fabric.

“What are you doing this weekend?” you asked, your breath hitching cautiously in your chest and drawing your finger down the front of his dress shirt, popping one or two buttons, loosely.

Moving his thumb to the soft skin on the inside of your thigh delicately he jested, “Stuck in a depressive episode because my friend is abandoning me for career opportunities that I lack”. 

You paused, reprimanding his harsh evaluation with a stern look.

“Too soon? It’s too soon for joking…” he sighed, sinking into the couch and laying back to gaze at the ceiling.

“Ven aqui” you whispered, tentatively sliding across the couch and straddling his quads as he held you around the waist. “Dame un beso” you leaned closer, collapsing your weight to his body and nibbling at his neck. You felt him relax beneath you as you drew the fleshy part of your lower lip up his chiseled jaw, nestling in the patchy scratches of his beard. Feeling his fingers drifting lower over your backside you kept your eyes closed, and then connected with his lips passionately, breathing one another in and out. All thought left your mind completely, poised at the task of comforting him however you could. You were mindlessly circling your hips over his dress pants as he slid the shoulders of your sundress down to your waist.

Pressing your breasts up against his chest, you moved together in synchronicity, allowing the vibrating warmth of the wine to pulse inside you. After a few minutes, you pulled back to look at his sorrowful eyes, placing your hands lightly atop his stomach.

“What does it mean?” he whispered, looking into your eyes imploringly. You weren’t sure if he was referencing your connection, or the audition, or even life itself. Naturally drawn to the existential questions, you smiled, moved by his artistry and confusion. 

“It doesn’t have to mean anything” you repeated his words back to him from earlier. “It’s just a moment. And we can decide whatever we want”. His face crumpled slightly in recognition as you took his face in your hands sweetly. “What do you need?” you asked straightforwardly, trying to hone your skills of telepathy as he drew his arms lightly up and down your back.

“I don’t even know” he muttered, looking around the room for inspiration. “I’m all over the place” he dropped his hands to the side, laying back against the couch with resignation and pausing to consider his feelings.

You waited quietly, atop his lap, resting your hands against his chest, hearing the deafening tic-tock of the battery operated clock in the corner.

His face contorted quietly in a small whimper. “I really thought I had it” he cried softly, covering his face quickly with his hands in embarrassment.

You welled up, watching him doubt the artistry and talent he clearly possessed, and knowing all too well that sometimes that just wasn’t enough. “Hey” you gently took his hands away from his face as he turned his head to the side with chagrin. “YOU are enough” you laced your fingers through his own, bringing them up to your chest with abandon. He chuckled, feeling the edges of your exposed bra against his fingers, eyeing you from the side.

“You think so?” he teased dolefully, fingering at the delicate skin of your breasts and humming shyly.

“I DO think so!” you brought his chin back to center with a deft finger as he eyed your chest sacredly, slowly bringing his gaze up to yours. He shivered slightly, gulping back the tears, determined to offer a more resolute countenance. “There are just some moments in life you have to be…patient” you reasoned, realizing that your time was whittling down from hour to hour. “Timing is everything and sometimes…it’s not yet time” you looked at him appraisingly, realizing that perhaps he needed a different kind of release than the obvious one.

“Come on” you carefully slid off of his lap watching his melancholy gaze follow after you along with his outstretched hands. “We’re taking a shower, and then we’re going to bed” you stated matter-a-factly.

“We are?” his curiosity peaked as he stifled a small yawn of emotional fatigue.

“Yeah, mister, some of us have to get up early for our grand exit, and I’m not leaving you with a New York City sized cold” you rationalized, leaving the wine glasses on the table. “What you need is a hot shower and a cuddle” nodding your head firmly as Pedge shakily arose, unbuttoning the rest of his shirt en route. “You’ve bossed me around enough, now it’s my turn…”

“I haven’t been bossy!” Pedge called after you, unzipping his pants and hopping down the hallway awkwardly.

“You most certainly have!” your voice echoed from the bathroom as the shower roared to life, attempting to distract P from the tumultuous day’s events. You smiled to yourself, stripping off the clingy sundress and shimmying your underwear to the floor in a tangled bundle.

You wiggled your fingers through the lukewarm water, anticipating the vanilla scented body wash you’d discovered at the Airbnb. Pedge’s voice crescendoed as he rounded the corner in his boxer briefs, “Okayeeee California…” he stopped abruptly seeing your half naked figure in the bathroom. You turned your body towards him mischievously as you drank one another in. Pedge covered his crotch with one hand, blushing slightly, and then hiding back behind the doorframe. “Are we doing this?” he smirked, peaking out from the hallway.

“I’m taking a shower” you teased, unhooking your bra in one motion and dropping it to the floor along with Pedge’s jaw. “And I’m hoping you’re going to join me, Prince Dorne or whatever the hell your name is…” you clutched your hands around your chest stepping into the shower and immediately enjoying the hot streams of water pelting your skin.

“Don’t have to tell me twice, boss” he stepped out of his underwear, kicking it to the corner with yours and hopping in behind you, pulling the curtain shut. You laughed wryly, taking a quick glance at his nether regions with admiration.

“Okay, Prince…” your eyebrows shot up to the ceiling with curiosity. “Do we get to see you in all this splendor on the big screen, or is this a private showing?” you poked him in the belly button, watching his length pinken and swell slightly. He blushed again as the shower heated up in more ways than one.

“I’m not hearing any complaints” he rasped, drawing his body to yours and pulling your hair taut behind you. You shivered slightly with the changing temperature and feather light touch of his fingertips at your back.

“I’m proud of you” you nuzzled into his neck, trying to breathe around the billowing clouds of steam wafting over your bodies. He pulled his face back slightly, holding you around the waist loosely and looking into your eyes with intention.

“Thank you” he nodded, taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Thanks for being here with me” he kissed you lightly on the lips for a long moment. You sighed contentedly, reaching haphazardly for the loofah sponge.

“Alright, any areas off-limits? How do we feel about vanilla?” you smiled, lathering your hands.

“Sky’s the limit” he laughed, slowly allowing his previous worries to wash away with the bubbling soap suds.

You drew the sponge across his chest moving in slow circles drifting lower and lower until you hit the tuft of hair at the base of his torso. Pedge hissed in quickly, twitching at your light touch. “This okay?” you intoned, watching his face for micro expressions. His eyes glazed over slightly, melting into your hand. “Yeeaaaa” he drawled, stepping an inch closer to your body magnetically. “My turn?”

You handed the sponge off to him, rotating in place, feeling the warm suds cascading down your back seductively. 

“Ticklish?” he teased landing a quick swath downward and cupping your backside, eliciting a myriad of giggles.

“Maybe?” you crumpled slightly, turning back to face him. He pecked at your lips tentatively as you wrapped your arms around his neck, feeling his length bump up in between your legs tantalizingly. You hummed into his mouth peacefully as you both swayed carefully in the sudsy, warm atmosphere. Enjoying one another until your fingertips were starting to prune, you broke away from the lengthy kiss to massage his shoulders comfortingly. “Any better?” you questioned watching his tranquil expression.

“I’ll be okay” he nodded, assembling his thoughts once again and sighing with relief. “Like somebody wise told me; not all who wander are lost” he acquiesced.

Toweling one another off to small kisses and quick tickles you ruffled his hair affectionately. “I think I’m ready for tomorrow. Any big advice before I head into the next adventure?” you asked, wrapping the towel around your body modestly and looking at Pedge in the steam coated mirror. He reached over your shoulder, swiping a clear path along the reflective surface and gazing back at your questioning expression. 

“Why? Do you want my acting advice?” he jested, before you elbowed him in the stomach jokingly. 

“Ouch” he rubbed his tummy slyly, pondering for a moment. “Just be good to yourself and be good to others” he rested his chin drolly on your shoulder looking at you in the mirror.

“Be good to yourself” you repeated to his reflection as he fluttered his eyelids comedically. “And be good to others” you turned to hug him affectionately, pressing your body against his. You stood that way for what felt like an eternity before Pedge chided,

“Is your towel gonna fall down if we stop hugging?” he laughed, before you pulled back tauntingly. 

“Wanna find out?” you teased, grasping your towel around the edge and scooting past Pedge before he swatted you on the ass.

You eyed your packed suitcase in the corner of the bedroom sadly before dropping the towel to the floor and throwing on a cozy pink sweater over your softened frame. Pedge appeared in the doorway, holding his towel at the waist. “Got one of those for me?” he quipped, looking around the room appraisingly. You grabbed one of your tourist purchases you had bought with Pedge in Time Square holding it up in front of his body with delight. 

“I heart New York” Pedge read, grabbing at the t-shirt and pulling it over his frame smoothly. “Works for me” he yawned, hitting the light switch as you both crawled into bed with exhaustion. There was lots of laughing and shifting as the bed creaked noisily over the hard wood floor. “Geez, is this futon gonna collapse under us both?” Pedge teased, finally pulling you in to his body and resting his head in the crook of your neck.

“Let’s hope not, I don’t wanna pay an extra Airbnb fee” you yawned, settling into the mattress and covering his arms with your own. “Thanks again for all of your help, Pedge, I couldn’t have done this without you” your words started to mumble slightly as you felt your body relax into his hold.

“I’m really excited for you and your tour” he breathed into your neck, kissing it slightly at the base. “I’m sorry I ruined everything with a lousy audition. I didn’t want today to be about me…”.

You turned in his embrace, desperately trying to locate the chocolate depths of his eyes in the darkened room. “You didn’t ruin a thing, Pedge” you began. “As artists, we get to experience all of this together, wherever we find ourselves. Our victories. Our defeats. It’s one big tapestry, and it’s nice to find ourselves knitted together.” Even in the dark, you could feel the intensity of his gaze pouring into you. “Was tonight okay? I mean…do you need more?” you stuttered, eager to show your support in whatever way you could. The silence stretched out before you as your heart fluttered nervously in your chest. Perhaps you had said too much…Had the intimacy of the day somehow threatened your easy friendship? You heard a single tear patter to the pillowcase as Pedge caught you in an unexpected and passionate kiss. You held each other, attempting to hold time further still.

“Today was everything I needed, and more” Pedge whispered. “Thank you for being my friend. I’m proud of you” he smiled, and your heart exploded in your chest with joy. 

“I’m proud of you, P” you whispered back, slowly starting to drift into a happy haze, feeling the hairs of his beard bristling at your neck and his arms wrapped firmly around your waist in comfort. “You’ve got a big day tomorrow, just rest” his voice echoed in the recesses of your mind before you fell asleep.

The morning was filled with anticipation as Pedge returned to the apartment with coffee and bagels before your departure. Although the air was tinged with sadness it was also humming with the electricity of a new adventure, as you looked over at your small suitcases dotting the stoop and winter coat draped over the luggage.

Pedge’s easy smile had returned, despite the previous day’s apparent defeat and you marveled once again at the resiliency artists such as yourselves had to demonstrate day after day.

“You gonna watch me on tv next month?” Pedge asked sipping at his iced quad espresso jovially, having already inhaled his breakfast.

“What do you think Mr. Six Shots?” you laughed, nibbling cautiously at the everything bagel, too adrenaline fueled to consider your own latte.

“I did okay” he deflected, considering recent events. “Netflix-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named might be a dud, but somethings gotta be on the horizon…” he reasoned. “I think my agent mentioned something about Gotham coming up…”.

“I’m not gonna have to watch you die in that too, am I?” you jested, tossing your napkin deftly at his face. 

“Fine by me” he grumbled. “Currently I can’t get arrested, and I’m more than happy to die as many times as is necessary…”. 

You pouted placatingly. “See me off later?”

“You bet” he smiled. “I’ve got a meeting with my agent, but it might get pushed. They can’t drop me after GOT, right?” he pondered, inhaling the rest of his espresso nervously.

“They’d be INSANE if they did!” you argued, grasping his wrist. “I’m fairly certain any nervousness you’re feeling is fully caffeinated at this point…”. He smiled mischievously, wrapping his hand over yours. “I’m overthinking everything” he confessed. “Let’s head to the studio and get you on the road, chickadee” he teased, kissing you on the cheek and heading towards the door. “Adventures await!” he flung open the door to your Airbnb, attempting to grab ALL of your luggage in a bear hug, amidst your protestations and giggles. Goodbye New York City, and hello newfound adventure. It felt amazing to be taking Pedge’s encouragement right along with you.

The morning passed by in a blur. The company had assembled at Ripley Grier as P headed upstairs to the Equity offices for his meeting. You had already said your official goodbyes, but as the note session wrapped up, your heart plummeted slightly realizing this was it. The company was packing up, and Pedge was nowhere to be found. Better to rip the bandaid off, you reasoned, rolling your baggage into the elevator and heading downstairs to the awaiting tour bus. The atmosphere was tinged with anticipation, laughter and ambition as you all piled into the bus, heading to your out of town technical rehearsal in upstate New York. You marveled at the miracle your life had evolved into, and resolved to make every moment count in all the artistic relationships you had made and were going to enjoy for a lifetime. You just wished you could somehow wrap it all up in your little pink suitcase to take with you. Settling into your seat you nervously glanced at your phone.

Pedge must still be in his meeting, you thought, wondering why everything was taking so long. Would an agency really drop a star performer, just because they hadn’t landed the most recent audition? It was ludicrous to even consider, but you shook your head in disapproval. The artistic life wasn’t a predictable one, but P’s talent would sustain him in whatever situation he found himself. You were confident it was just a matter of time. Broadway, television, movies…Pedge could make it happen, and you would be able to watch him do it.

You waited expectantly, the seconds ticking by disappointingly. Damn. The production manager hopped on the bus mic, updating the company as you rolled out. You pressed your fingertips to the glass reticently. Bye, Pedge. Your lip wobbled with emotion as you heaved a heavy sigh of longing. Can’t be in two places at once, chica…Pedge’s voice seemed to tint your own imagination as you watched the cogs of the city slowly mechanizing forward. Swaths of bright yellow sunshine-colored cabs, elbowing one another for dominance. An array of humanity dotting the busy streets as the cumbersome bus angled awkwardly between cyclists, pedestrians and automobiles. Your phone buzzed loudly in your hand.

You pouted with discouragement, watching Ripley Grier fade into the background.

Sighing heavily you rested your head against the bus window. Geez, EVERYTHING was taking forever. NY wasn’t designed for bumbling busses. You inched forward at a glacial pace. At this rate, tech wasn’t gonna start until next week.

You parried, hoping to get a response, to no avail. Well this was anticlimactic. So much for the grand exit. You waited another five minutes, settling in for the lengthy drive. This was just the beginning of the adventure, so let’s all hurry up and wait, you surmised. New York City streets were a cornucopia of mankind. You smiled watching a woman in a mink, dragging a tea cup poodle behind her. A gaggle of school kids, obviously playing hooky on a Monday. Artistic graffiti. Piles of trash on the side of the road. What a town, you observed.

Your eyes shot up to your forehead in confusion. Huh?

I AM looking out my window, you chided, wondering if you were EVER going to exit the Big Apple. Hard to start the next adventure if you never finished the first one. You squinted begrudgingly at the sea of humanity before you. Pretzel cart. Check. The bus puttered a few more feet forward. Fire escape argument decorated with a laundry line backdrop. Check. Geez, New York was its own movie set. Pashminas, snow globes, tourist caricatures…What were you supposed to be looking for?

A bouncing balloon caught your eye as a beaming Pedge bounced playfully beside it. “Sorry For Your Loss” it read contradictorily, in opposition to the contagious light cascading out of P’s eyes. You goofball, you smiled, popping up in your seat and nearly banging your head on the luggage rack.

“Sit the f@ck down!” the driver congenially reprimanded, attempting to bulldoze over a school bus to the right. Pedge darted in and out of traffic, arriving at the molasses paced flow of traffic and banging on the side of the bus. “Get the f@ck outta the road!” the bus driver yelled, braking before he hit the taxicab in front of him. 

Pedge yelled back, “Hey, I’m WALKIN’ HERE!” unfazed by the onslaught of cars and apathetic onlookers. He skipped sideways, pointing to his phone as the balloon bobbed next to his head. Gazing down at your hand you immediately recognized his number and answered.

“You idiot, get out of the road before you’re flattened like a pancake. We don’t need another Dorne situation!” you laughed, stumbling to the front of the bus.

“I got it” he smiled, his voice a tinny, delayed echo on the phone in relation to his enthusiastic and Cheshire like grin.

You lumbered to the driver’s right, stopping abruptly at the front of the bus.

“What? I can’t hear you, Pedge!” you plugged one ear as the driver berated you for getting out of your seat.

“I got it. Narcos. I got it.” he wriggled around the front of the bus carefully, arriving at the bus entrance.

You froze in delight, watching his boyish expression through the somewhat dirtied glass.

“WHAT???” you shrieked, now eliciting curious giggles and questions from the company as the production manager attempted to regain control of the situation.

You watched his mouth as he pointed animatedly into the phone. “I’M. JAVIER. PENA! I got it!” he banged on the door again loudly as the bus inched forward another foot. You shymied down the stairwell, yelling back at the driver, “Open the door! Open the door!”

“Geeeeezus, actors!” the driver drawled, a thick New York accent spilling forward. “You’re way past the line, lady!”

One of your company friends shouted from the back, “Goddam open the door already! Open, open, open!” the bus started chanting with encouragement as traffic seemed to close up in support of your reunion.

You grabbed your stomach theatrically, “Man, I really gotta puke, you better open this door, if you don’t want a situation..” you bluffed, watching Pedge bang on the door repetitively.

“Bitchy actors” the driver finally acquiesced, punching a button as the door jettisoned opened towards you. Without hesitation you flung yourself into P’s arms as the bus erupted into applause.

“Well that was cinematic” Pedge exclaimed into your ear, sending an electric tickle down your spine. He pulled back to face you, beaming broadly from ear to ear. “Can I hang up on you now?” he joked, holding you around the waist and booping you on the nose.

“I don’t see any puking!” the driver stated matter-a-factly inching the bus another few feet forward.

Pedge carried you sideways as the company pressed their noses up against the windows in rapt anticipation. “You got it?” you questioned, pulled in by the magnetism of his joy and wonder.

“I got it” he repeated, nodding his head in affirmation. “They didn’t know if GOT was going to be a scheduling conflict, and then something fell through..and…I got it!”. You were completely speechless, feet dangling off the ground and heart dangling in your chest with effervescence.

“Puking!” the driver abruptly interrupted, moving the bus a solid ten feet forward as traffic eased up slightly.

Pedge hopped sideways to keep up with the shifting traffic as you gripped him tightly around the neck. “We’re going to start shooting in Columbia in the next few weeks, I’ve gotta lease my apartment, my agents have already set up a meet with the FBI, it’s all f@cking happening, J!” you both laughed maniacally as the information spilled out of him joyfully. “It’s happening!”

“I knew it!” you exclaimed as he set you down, gripping your hands in front of you. You both started jumping up and down like little kids, as the balloon bobbed in acknowledgement along side you both. “I’m so proud of you Pedge!” you grinned.

“I’m kind of proud of me too” he agreed. “Looks like you could be a GREAT intimacy coach if this whole acting thing doesn’t work out” he joked, stepping forward into your personal space and hooking his fingers through your belt loops.

“Kiss her, kiss her, kiss her!” the company started chanting repetitively as the sounds of the city began to fade around you. Even the bus driver’s reprimands dulled in comparison to the light shining in Pedge’s eyes. You wrapped your arms around his neck, magnetically pulled into a passionate kiss. The world slowed…much like the current traffic…while you enjoyed your Big Goodbye, New York style. After what seemed like an eternity, the sounds of the city came rushing back in a torrent of sound and fury, as the company uttered a communal, juvenile “Awwwwww”.

“Give ‘em what they want” Pedge teased, brushing that pesky hair out of your face, and tucking it behind your ear.

“Looks like they want YOU” you returned, clasping his face in your palm, and circling the small heart shaped patch in his beard affectionately.

“Lady, either you’re in or out!” the driver finally smiled, juxtaposed by the production manager who looked like they were ACTUALLY going to be sick.

You turned back towards Pedge and quickly exclaimed, “I love you!” gasping slightly at your bizarre, somewhat ill-timed confession.

Somehow P’s smile broadened even more as he leaned in for a final peck on your lips. He set you back on the stair-stoop of the bus, comedically yelling at the taxicab that was precariously perched behind him, and slapping the hood of it theatrically. The doors whooshed closed as traffic finally eased up, allowing the bus to slowly advance. Pedge’s silhouette began to shrink as the bus continued its formative journey, and the company returned to their seats amidst the exhortations of the production manager. You gripped the handrails as Pedge waved dramatically, the small balloon escaping his grasp and dotting the horizon… “Sorry For Your Loss”. He jumped after it helplessly, finally shrugging his shoulders and waving extravagantly, seeing you off for a New York Goodbye that was truly cinema worthy.

Sorry For Your Loss, you whispered to yourself, plopping back down in your seat and smiling warmly. Every loss was a newfound gain. Every ending, a new beginning. And realizing that some journeys had only just begun. Not all who wander are lost, you reminded yourself, gazing down at your buzzing phone that was still in your hand.

You sat back contentedly in your seat watching New York City blur around you. I’m ready, you mused. I’m ready.

My Darling Muse,

Dieter is in LOVE. He's just not sure if he's met them yet. But in the interim, he's keeping a journal to house all of his inspiration, poetry and recipes, before they fly out of his head. And once he meets the ONE...or ONES...this is going to be his gift to you. Along with those sexy time IOU's he's always handing out. Love this post @for-a-longlongtime, and inspired by the Trope-Off (Dieter Bravo/Pen Pals)

Trigger: it's Dieter bub so this series will DEFINITELY include profanity, drugs, alcohol, sex, smut and any meanderings D wants...He's endlessly inspired by art, poetry, songs, sex and YOU!

My Darling Muse (ii) My Darling Muse (iii) My Darling Muse (iv) My Darling Muse (v) My Darling Muse (vi) My Darling Muse + Pedge's Jukebox My Darling Muse (vii) My Darling Muse, My Darling Dieter My Darling Muse, My Darling Dieter (ii) My Darling Muse, My Darling Dieter (iii) Dieter's Art Studio; Where is D?

*Goya's "Saturn", *thanks @thecutestgrotto for the cool dividers

My Darling Muse,

The night awakens my deepest darkest desires I claw at my own skin, desperate to be released Into your embrace, into your cavernous heart You devour me, I devour you. We ravage each other in the stillness of the night Howling, yawping, digging into the recesses of our passion Chewing me up, Spitting me out I unravel at your touch, disintegrate in your kiss. I sink my teeth into your supple flesh Drinking in your life, your blood The carnality of our existence My eyes are wide with terror in vulnerability I hold you in my dangling grasp as you hold me Headless, thoughtless, armless, shoeless Less and less, and more and more I die to to you, to myself, and am reborn in your arms.

(scribbled in margins: New tattoo? Metaphor for drinking pussy? Am I a cannibal? How much semen would you have to drink, if you were stranded on a desert island? Out of red paint. Was Goya bi? Okay to eat acrylic paint? New sexy position hurting back...)

WIP Poll Pike's Place

This is my first writing year on Tumblr and as per @burntheedges "Roll-a-Trope Challenge" . I love Pike. And I love the cinema ALMOST as much as he does (did you catch some of our holiday movie references in Episodes 1-3?). Looks like Pike and I are both going to be watching Die Hard. What would you watch?

Pike's Place Elf

Yay! Here's Episode Three of @burntheedges Roll-a-Trope Challenge! I'm really digging this slow burn series, final episode on Christmas Day :) A big thank you to @inept-the-magnificent for cool rec's and assists!

Triggers: lite smut, profanity, discussions of isolation/pandemic, that d@mn snow suit (costume malfunctions), stranded motorist, honestly at this point in the story we might just die of sugar overload, literal and metaphoric please proceed at your own risk...

Series Masterlist:

The fire was crackling brightly, flickering across Pike’s face as he gazed longingly into your eyes. Your body was perched atop his on the couch, two glasses of wine sitting in front of the television screen playing an endless loop of “It’s a Wonderful Life”. Snow was lightly falling across the pristine white landscape, as the both of your were housed in a cocoon of winter wonders. You sighed heavily into his chest, body thrumming with anticipation.

“I can’t believe this is happening” he whispered lowly, grazing his lips across the soft flesh of your neck, noticing the breath hitch in your throat haltingly. “Is this okay?” he pulled back with concern, his large hands rubbing your shoulders in one fluid motion and watching you intently.

“More than okay” you smiled, leaning in and hovering just above his lips teasingly. “This has been a Christmas I’ll never forget” you breathed into his ear, watching the goose bumps splay across his cinnamon skin. You felt the corners of his mouth turn up against your cheek, beard tickling at your grin as you pulled back to see his expression.

“I think showing up on my doorstep in the middle of a blizzard, wearing…THAT…was particularly memorable” he joked, eliciting small tickles from you as he crumpled in a protective vice, smashing your body against his in a useless defense.

“You were the one in your slutty, gray sweatpants crying into your Merlot!” you taunted mercilessly, reaching your hands around to his sides and pinching his ribs.

“Ouch!” Pike laughed, pausing dramatically until he had your full attention. “I was NOT crying into my Merlot…”. Your tickling hands halted for a millisecond, unsure if you had inadvertently hurt his feelings, or crossed a line. “It was a Pinot Noir.” Pike could give as good as he could take, and launched a full fledged tickle assault as you writhed atop his body with delight. You were squealing like a small child, squeaking and huffing as Pike tenderly wrestled you into submission. His movements started to slow, until his hands were gripping your back, and moving in small circles, lower and lower and lower. Your pupils dilated to to lustful circles, feeling magnetically drawn to his pouty lips, closer and closer and closer until….

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

You inhaled quickly, taking an adrenaline fueled moment to look around the room in assessment. The cozy dream you had been enjoying started to recede into the hazy background. It was juxtaposed against the pounding of your heart keeping time with the knocks at the door.

“I don’t want to scare you, but I think there’s a good chance a mystery woman in a pink snow suit may have burgled my winter cabin last night?” the muted tones of Pike drifted through the cabin door as you eyed said snow suit across the room. Grabbing at the sheets, you pulled them up to your chin, remembering you were only wearing a t-shirt you had found in his cabinet that was sinfully soft and smelling of a woodsy pine. The events of the previous evening came flooding back to you, drumming in your chest. There weren’t a lot of options after Bessie the Hyundai had come to an unceremonious halt in this unexpected blizzard. Trudging the distance to a nearby cabin you had come upon Agent Marcus Pike, unlikely tipsy hero, who had offered you lodging in this unexpected conundrum. Truthfully, he had primarily offered you hot chocolate, as you listened to his melancholy tale of heart break and isolation. It hadn’t taken much to draw you in to the warmth of his personality and plight, particularly as it seemed aided by one too many glasses of red. Falling asleep on the couch you had tucked him in for the night and headed upstairs to survive the snow storm. The fuzzy remnants of your dream flashed into your memory as a smirk dotted your face. Guess it was obvious which direction your subconscious was headed, as it dragged your conscious mind right along with it. But would Agent Pike seem nearly as adorable in the harsh light of day? 

“I must remind you in this moment that I AM a man of the law, and trespassers will be treated with the utmost stringency and repudiation”. Silence followed as you gulped dryly. Oh my. Maybe he didn’t remember the events of last night and had already called the police. A quick image of you in a pink snowsuit and handcuffs flashed comedically across your mind scape.

“I’m not trespassing!” you called out, trying to diffuse the situation. The door gently swung open on a light squeak as Pike stood before you in a pressed white dress shirt and slacks carrying…a tray of pancakes?

Your mouth dropped open slightly taking in the angelic sight before you. You almost had to laugh at the comical rom-com persona grimacing before you, silhouetted by the morning sun. Pike couldn’t have appeared MORE cinematic, as you took in the bowl of pinecones, restaurant perfect pancakes, glass of orange juice and mug that read… “I’m only a morning person on Christmas Day”.

“I don’t usually make pancakes for burglars, but in this case, I thought I’d make an exception?” he joked, taking a quick glance at your disheveled morning hair and freckled confusion. Oh you were even cuter than he remembered from last night. Truthfully, he didn’t remember much. There was pink, there was a crowbar, there was…lingerie? That part seemed more like a fever dream. But glancing out the window of his snow-covered cabin he could clearly see a small car dotting the landscape, and the aforementioned crowbar sat atop the living room table, so there was evidence enough of his Merlot fueled fantasy. Somehow Jimmy Stewart, Donna Reed and the whole experience was a bit muddled in his mind, but he was fairly certain a roadster had requested lodging for the night and…he furrowed his brow in concentration. There was a lot of pink. Sexy pink? He cleared his throat with discomfort. One more example of romanticizing EVERY moment indiscriminately. But standing before you, gazing at your questioning expression he felt slightly justified in his usually theatrically perceptions. His memory was functioning just fine. You WERE adorable. And he had pancakes.

“I…uh…don’t remember ALL the details from last night, but I noticed your car out front, and thought you might have found yourself slightly stranded…” he trailed off, eyes widening at the sparkly pink bra draped across an even louder pink snowsuit. Ah, that was…something. The tray shook in his hand ever so slightly as a red tint crossed his cheeks, blazingly hot. “Oh, we didn’t…um…I mean…” he stuttered with concern, noticing the t-shirt you were wearing from his closet.

“Absolutely not!” you blurted out, nearly standing up, but remembering you were only wearing his t-shirt underneath the bedsheets. “Agent Pike…I mean Mr. Marcus…M-Marcus!” you took a deep breath, attempting to still your heart throbbing loudly in your ears. “I don’t make it a point to take advantage of…members of the Art Squad..” you winced awkwardly attempting to form a cohesive thought “…who have taken ME in for the night” you punctuated your sentence definitively trying to regain some measure of composure, and spotting his sigh of relief with slight disappointment.

The floorboards creaked beneath him as he shifted his weight with indecision.

“What kind of pancakes are those” you managed to eek out, happy to fill the void.

“Chocolate chip! I don’t have much in the way of sugar so your coffee might taste like maple syrup, I don’t know how you like it.”

I’m more than happy to tell you how I like it, Agent Pike, you clandestinely thought, overjoyed to finally keep your inner monologue silent for once.

“Can I…?” Pike paused precariously at the doorstep, indicating the foot of the bed.

“Please” you rasped. Somehow this appeared a bit begging on your part so you cleared your throat for a second attempt. “Yes, please enter”. Good Lord, it’s getting worse. Why do I ever use words, you wondered as Pike jauntily walked in, setting the tray down at the foot of the bed, and grazing your ankle ever so slightly with his pinky. You jerked away nervously, suddenly aware of his close proximity. Pike’s eyes shot up to yours with intensity.

“I’m sorry you were having car trouble last night” he took a step back, clasping his hands behind him modestly. “I did call the local mechanic and Triple A in the interim, but everything seems to be inaccessible at the moment.”

You nodded your head appraisingly, unfortunately unsurprised. This California Girl didn’t know much about blizzards, but business was hard enough during the holidays, let alone on a Sunday. You took another detailed look at Agent Marcus Pike who was casting quite the coifed, clean shaven aesthetic this morning in a button down white shirt and even wearing his lanyard, adding to his official presence.

“I didn’t realize the Art Squad was so proficient in the culinary arts” you teased, eyeing him up and down.

He smirked shyly, drawing his hand behind his neck and rubbing slightly. “I didn’t realize burglars were so pretty” he bit his lip painfully, already annoyed at himself. Too much. 

Your cheeks reddened as you pulled the sheets up even higher than they already were. “Well, it’s important when you’re having car trouble to try to look as fabulous as you can” you chuckled self-deprecatingly, feeling a bit out of sorts. “And what about you Agent Pike, are you…headed to work?” you questioned, wondering at his apparel.

“Oh, this old thing? I only wear it when I don’t care how I look!” he chuckled, backing out of the room slowly. “And you can call me Mr. Marcus, I mean M-Marcus, if you want…” he tripped slightly over the frame, grabbing the doorknob to steady himself. “I’ll just be downstairs tidying up, no rush” he ducked his head out quickly before he said anything else.

You laughed quietly to yourself, breathing a sigh of relief. Looks like you weren’t the only one out of sorts. You gazed down at the steaming cup of coffee and plated pancakes and smiled. What holiday Hallmark movie had you stepped into?

Pike plodded down the stairs shaking his head from side to side. Nice one, Pike, real smooth, he chastised himself, heading back into the kitchen. Why didn’t you just ask her ring size while you were there? He had to chuckle to himself, trying to elicit a bit of grace, noticing “Elf” playing on the television screen. That’s not an old movie, he muttered under his breath, but smiling with recognition. If anybody understood Buddy the Elf it was him. Endlessly optimistic, overly enthusiastic and a hopeless romantic. He took a moment to appreciate the roaring fire in the hearth, and pulled back the curtains to see your small forlorn Hyundai, punctuating the snowscape. Still on East Coast time, he had awakened bright and early, using all of his investigative skills to piece together the previous evening. It was unlike him to have spent so much time moping in the preceding week, and your unexpected arrival had jarred him into a state of productivity. Re-starting his indoor exercise regiment, he decided to make a better “first impression”, jumping in the shower and presenting a clean-shaven business appearance. He didn’t want you to think he was a lush, wiling away the holiday hours and fretting into his Merlot. It’s true the last couple months had been an emotional roller coaster, but there was no better time than the present to turn over a new leaf. Pike looked around the tidied cabin appraisingly. He had already called Triple A, and the local mechanic, to no avail. He’d already been up for four hours and was attempting to quell the nervous restlessness bouncing around inside his chest. Still smarting from his recent romantic escapades, he was well aware that enthusiasm was his downfall. He just couldn’t help himself, and the holidays seemed to intensify his longing. Perhaps he could just enjoy the possibility of a new friendship, and help you on your way to wherever you were going. He gazed over at Buddy who had just finished decorating all of Macy’s in a holiday extravaganza. Rolling up his sleeves with determination, he reasoned there was only one thing left to do in this anxious state. It was time to start baking.

Ever since Pike’s gentle appearance at the door, your heart wouldn't stop hammering in your chest. It had been so long since you made any new friends, let alone someone…from the Art Squad. You mindlessly inhaled the delectable breakfast Pike had assembled, downing the maple flavored cup of coffee in one gulp. What was a girl to do? This wasn’t a real Hallmark Holiday special. This wasn’t “It’s a Wonderful Life” and you weren’t Donna Reed. You were here, on a working vacation, as per your therapist’s recommendation, and Bessie the Hyundai had mercilessly betrayed you on this blustery blizzard Sunday. Firmly grasping your fantasies in one hand you hopped out of bed, determined to double down on your holiday independence. If something seemed too good to be true, it probably was, and you were obviously infringing on Marcus’ Holiday solo expedition. Sorry, Agent Pike, you reprimanded yourself. No getting familiar now, just because he had accidentally seen you in your altogethers. Pull up your big girl snow suit and get back to work! Taking off his large t-shirt you gripped it in your hands, indulging in one final inhale of the woodsy cologne, and flung it onto the bed. Something for the road, you reasoned, hopping back into your pink snowsuit and mustering every ounce of determination you had left. You gazed over at the demolished breakfast, disappointed at your decision to make a quick exit. Compliments to the chef, you pouted, willing yourself to dart down the stairwell, before you changed your mind.

“IamsosorryIinterruptedyourholidayvacayIcantthankyouenoughforthemazingbreakfastandhospitality.HonestlyitssoembarassingthatBessiekonkedoutIamsureIcangiveitanothergo.AndthankyouagainforallofyourhelpAgentPike!”

Pike peaked his head out of the kitchen just in time to see the flurry of pink cascading by him in a tornado of activity, whisking down the stairwell and practically running toward the door.

“Oh watch out for the…!”

If you had paused long enough to see Pike’s fallen countenance at your quick departure you might have anticipated the upcoming results. But grabbing the crowbar on your exit, you flung open the cabin door and nearly fell over the waist high tumult of snow.

“….snow fall!” Pike managed to get out before a clump fell on top of your head poised just beneath the door frame. You had never seen so much snow in all your life. The momentum of your exit catapulted you forward as you fell face first into the soft pillowed blanket of snow. Pike hurried forward, grasping your snow suit around the waist and hoisting you back up to a standing position. You inhaled shakily, icicles stinging your cheeks as your feet slid on top of the snowy dregs. “Steady there, sailor!” Pike laughed, gripping you hard around the waist and pulling you in for an awkward hug. This seemed vaguely reminiscent of your earlier dream, as he reached up to brush some stray snowflakes from your surprised expression. “I don’t think you’re going anywhere for the next 24 hours” he appraised, somewhere between an apology and a suggestion, as you blinked confusedly. “Let’s get you indoors for a second” he surmised, taking in your silence and sliding you back into the cabin’s warmth. He left his hand on your lower back for a bit longer than was absolutely necessary, making sure you had your sea legs and then give you a quick wink before heading back into the kitchen.

“I already called Triple A and the mechanic down the hill, but you’re welcome to ring them as well” he called from the kitchen, returning to his task at hand. You shook your head violently from side to side. So much for Barbie’s break for independence, you scoffed, looking over at the flickering television screen and Zooey Deschanel singing in the shower. Maybe this wasn’t a situation you could easily run from.

“How did those pancakes treat ya?” he inquired, grabbing a nearby apron that said “Who Needs a Hug?” and pulling a cookie sheet out of the oven. Momentarily stunned into silence you tried to get your bearings in the midst of this snowy quandary. Your Arts and Crafts Girl Scout Training hadn’t prepared you for this particular scenario, but you were an independent gal, with brains and boobs. Time to rally your wits and try anew.

“Um…the pancakes were absolutely amazing” you confessed, watching Pike beam with pride and pour you another cup of coffee in the interim. “Are you starting a bed and breakfast anytime soon?’ you teased, pulling your snowsuit hood back down and taking the coffee from him.

“I think I’m gonna need better hosting skills for that to happen” he apologized with chagrin. “I’m not sure you were catching me at my best last night” the pained expression on his face, softened your resolve as you plopped down at the dining room table huffily.

“Maybe we have a do-over this morning, I’m not sure either of us were on our best behavior” you gulped down your second cup of joe as Pike set down the cookie tray and outstretched his hand.

“I’m Marcus Pike from the Art Squad in Sacramento, and you are?”

You took his hand warmly, grinning from ear to ear. “I’m snow time Barbie, I come with props, though there have been some factory disputes regarding my somewhat defunct Hyundai.” Pike smiled broadly in acknowledgement, returning to his baking. 

“Sounds like Pike’s Place is just the spot for you”.

You and Pike feel into an easy rapport for the next hour, chatting about holiday plans run amok, recent work challenges and options for your car’s retrieval. After some digging on your part you confirmed that all nearby resources were in the lurch and you’d be forced to spend at least the next 24 hours at “Pike’s Place” whether he wanted you to or not. Downing a glass of cold milk, Pike patted his stomach with contentment.

“I think I’ve probably eaten enough chocolate chip cookies for the both of us”, he laughed, returning your coffee mug to the sink and starting the dishes. “Do you wanna watch a movie while we wait out the storm? I think I already offered, but there IS hot chocolate…”.

You paused reflexively catching yourself in a Cheshire like grin. You hadn’t even been hesitant the last hour, revealing parts of yourself that had stayed hidden for the last several years, and being unaccustomed to that level of intimacy, started experiencing an emotional hangover of sorts. Your face literally hurt from smiling so much, but what did you really know about Marcus? Agent. Pike. This was a lot to process in a short amount of time, and the walls of the cabin started to feel just a bit more oppressive in retrospect. The fire roared loudly from the hearth as you back pedaled slightly. 

“Um, is it possible to use your laptop for some work, maybe? I AM supposed to be on a working vacation…” you ventured, attempting to reboot to something a bit more neutral.

“Come on, you don’t need to work on a Sunday!” Pike teased from the kitchen.

“Well, you don’t really know me very well, do you?” the sentence escaped your lips before you had a chance to consider the ramifications. The mood immediately shifted from the cozy camaraderie you had been experiencing to a blizzard like cold.

“I guess that’s true…” Pike stalled, wondering in the tonality shift. “But I’d…like the chance…if you have time…” he trailed off, unsure of his direction.

You kind of stopped breathing for a second, grappling with the many emotions fighting for your attention. What was going on? Once again your snow suit seemed hotter than ever as you picked at the cuticles on your nails. Had you actually forgotten how to interact with other humans? Did the pandemic really fuck you up so much you couldn’t even consider the possibility that someone might actually like you, without some sort of hidden agenda?

“I can come up with lots of activities!” Pike tried to brighten the mood again. “I think we’ve got Twister…uh…cards…puzzles? Oooh, maybe we could make some snowflakes out of newspaper!” he piped up over the clanging dishes.

“Snowflakes?” you uttered, incredulously. “Are you kidding, Art Squad? This isn’t a daycare, I actually have some work I need to get done…”

“Oh. Right.” Pike stuttered, returning to the dishes. The silence stretched out awkwardly before you, as you gazed at his broad back and now hunched shoulders. Outside of his gaze you bit your lower lip with embarrassment. Where did that come from? No wonder you hadn’t dated anyone in years. Bitch. I don’t deserve somebody like Pike, you rationalized, suddenly very aware of your limitations, both without and within. You felt your eyes welling up with tears unexpectedly.

“I mean, if that’s okay with you…” you stumbled forward politely, trying to assemble your emotions one at a time. Get in a line, motherfuckers, you chided. You’re a guest, you’re stranded and you have nowhere else to go. Just because you’re alone on the holidays doesn’t mean you have to take it out on Mar…on Agent Pike.

Pike cleared his throat, softening his expression slightly. “Sure, just check the briefcase over there in the study” he muttered, trying to focus on the dishes. You quietly stood up, heading over to the side room and quickly caught sight of his briefcase. Popping open the metal latches, his laptop thunked to the bottom as you caught sight of several manilla folders and a small photo of a smiling woman with kind, brown eyes.

Uh oh. The ex.

You picked up the photo hesitatingly, as though rummaging around through his underwear drawer. I wonder if he wears boxers of briefs? Oh shut up, Barbie. You swallowed hard, wondering at the circumstances you both found yourselves in. You truly believed everyone was just doing their best. You didn’t have the copyright on injustice or personal heartache. It wasn’t easy to make changes or move in a new direction, but Pike was trying to move on, and he didn’t need your insecurities or relative isolation clouding his own. Get it together woman, you resolved. You can do better than this. Make a plan to get yourself out of this situation and leave Agent Pike to his own healing. Heaven’s knows you’re not put together enough to warrant his attentions. You stifled a small sniffle, feeling that all too familiar lump in your throat rising to the surface. Grabbing the laptop you returned to the living room, determined to make a better representation of yourself, but found the setting completely still.

Agent Pike did seem like a fantastical figment of your imagination, but even the Art Squad couldn’t evaporate into thin air. Your heart sank, realizing how alone you might truly be if not for the safety of the cabin and Pike’s warm disposition. Did you really just ruin things from the get go? Sitting quietly at the dining room table you had just haltingly opened the laptop when Pike lumbered down the stairs in a winter jacket and heavy snow boots.

“Be right back” he muttered, flinging the door wide open and shutting it abruptly behind  him. He continued, wading through the waist high snow to a nearby woodshed.

Mouth ajar, you peered out the snowy window to see him retrieve a snow shovel and begin barreling towards Bessie with decided purpose. Your lip quivered with emotion as a single, unbidden tear found its way down your cheek, pattering to the floor. Jesus, you can’t even manage one day with a perfect specimen like Marcus, how were you ever going to make it work with anyone in this state of mind, particularly during the holidays? Sigh. You returned to the dining room table awash with defeat. Agent Pike. His name is Agent Pike.

Pike allowed the cold sting of the snowy tundra to purify his meandering thoughts as he drove a hard line to Bessie the Hyundai. This is a test, Pike, hegrunted with effort, flinging powdery snow to either side, making quick work of his hundred foot task. When faced with temptation are you going to take the path of least resistance or are you going to man up and admit the truth? Pike paused to catch his breath looking back at the cozy cabin and billowing plumes of smoke chugging from the happy chimney. What truth? He coughed heartily, watching his breath blossom in the cold air. It’s time to start thinking realistically, and without entitlement. This woman doesn’t owe you anything, and the most important thing you can do is get her back on the road to relative safety. And maybe pack some chocolate chip cookies for the road, he nodded with resolve. Are you a man of the law, or not? Now get crackin’…He started shoveling like a man possessed, determined to carve a quick path to Bessie and get you back on the road as soon as possible. No time for love, Pike. It’s the holidays. Get ‘er done.

Now faced with the relative silence of the roaring fire you sat silently in front of the blinking cursor. Blink. Blink. Blink. Blink. Your eyes blinked back the tears that were starting to crowd your vision. WHY was it always so damn hot in here??? You unzipped the top portion of your snow suit, perspiration dotting your chest and sparkly pink lingerie. Something about your relative inability and helplessness had you needlessly lashing out at poor Pike. That lump in your throat tightened exponentially as you attempted to bulldoze through some work emails. Pike was right, you don’t need to do anything on a Sunday. Who were you kidding? Pike was so friendly and unassuming, he reminded you of all your need and loneliness. You paused to consider the warmth radiating from his entire personhood. JEEEESUS it was warm, you aggressively pulled your arms out of the snow suit, bunching it at your waist and wiping a film of sweat from your brow. If you didn’t learn how to bite your tongue you were gonna end up completely alone for the rest of your life. The tears started running down your face indiscriminately as you looked over at James Caan, chewing out Buddy the Elf for his holiday enthusiasm. You could really use that hot chocolate right now…IF IT WASN’T SO DAMN HOT!!! You blew a strand of hair out of your face as the front door flung open, a blast of cold air rippling through the cabin refreshingly.

Jumping to your feet with resolve you just managed to shout, “I’M SORRY!”…before the snow suit slipped to the floor around your ankles.

Pike stood poised with your luggage in one hand and snow shovel in the other before it clattered loudly to the floor. He gulped loudly, unsure of where he should be looking, as the corners of his mouth twitched upward in delight.

You pursed your lips comedically, unwilling to lose any ground at this point, and authoritatively placed your hands on your hips. And why not? You work out. Half the population has boobs, and the other half wants them, so there’s nothing new under the sun. You giggled a bit attempting to proceed, “I would like to apologize!”

“You would????” Pike bellowed, dropping your luggage next, nearly tripping over it as he slammed the door shut.

“Yes I would!” you shouted back, now covering your mid-drift section and shivering ever so slightly. “I’m sorry I’m being ridiculous…” you tried to subtly slide downward pulling the snow suit back up around you. “It’s been a long time since I’ve…felt…feelings” you meandered forward, unsure of how to articulate your own confusion. “I’m just used to being alone, and fixing things on my own and…I apologize” you reiterated, zipping the snow suit back up and vowing to change into normal clothes ASAP.

Pike sighed with relief, nodding his head in acknowledgement. “There’s nothing to apologize for” he sighed. “I always come on too strong with people I like” he paused abruptly, waiting on your response. “And…I do like the color pink” he chuckled, unzipping his winter coat and kicking off the powdery lumps of snow from his boots.

“I would like to make it up to you” you pondered, as Pike froze with curiosity.

“How?” he whispered, immediately tightening his lips with restraint. “I mean, what exactly did you have in mind?”

Having both changed into a more cozy pair of pajamas you emerged from the kitchen, now wearing the aforementioned apron and balancing two plates of pasta in your outstretched arms. “Do we dare open another bottle of Merlot?” you teased, rounding the corner and gesturing to the coffee table in front of you. “Elf” had restarted for the AMC marathon and Pike grinned expectantly at the culinary offering.

“I’m game if you are” he rose to take the plates from your grasp as you returned to the kitchen to locate a new bottle and two wine glasses. You pushed the memory of your earlier dream to the side, content with the new friendship you had forged with your unlikely hero. Bessie was still anchored firmly in the tundra, as a new wave of snow lightly feathered down on the cozy cottage. It was going to be at least 48 hours or more until you could attempt another winter escape. But currently, that didn’t seem quite as oppressive as it once did, a loud pop resounding from the kitchen as you uncorked the Merlot pouring its heady aroma into the wine glasses before you. You padded into the living room, noting your matching gray sweatpants. Pike beamed with anticipation as you sat across from him, offering a glass of congratulations.

“Thanks for bringing in my luggage, I really don’t know what I would have done without your assistance” you toasted him with celebration, enjoying the light clink of your glasses touching rims.

“It was my pleasure” Pike returned, drawing the glass up to his mouth, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“I don’t think I’m the best cook, so it’s lucky your last Instacart order arrived when it did. I think we might be stuck here for the indefinite future” you worried, however secretly enthusiastic at the turn of events.

“This could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship” he surmised, licking his lips pointedly and clinking glasses once again.

Happy holidays, you smirked, as the wind blustered outside. Happy holidays, indeed.

*thanks @unknown-till for the cool dividers

A Very Special Episode of PB and J

And now for a very special episode of PB and J. This one is drastically self-indulgent, though I feel there are some things Pedge and I can say to the fandom that might help. 

Sexy Disclaimer: Pedge is not a registered therapist, however therapeutic he might be. We are going to be talking about some challenging topics like SH, ideation, orientation, violence and shame…

Pedge and I have been talking a lot about shame and allowance lately, haven’t we Pedge? I know, it’s hard to sit with uncomfortable emotions no matter how many chocolate chip cookies we have. It’s easy to feel broken or like there’s something wrong with you. Hmmm? I mean, it’s only 11:30am but…yes we can have some for breakfast.

This first writing year on Tumblr I’ve learned A LOT. I spent a full year reading ALL KINDS of fics and some of them had me feeling all sorts of things! I read fluff, I read violence, I read about threesomes, I read about orientation, I read about SH, ideation, dead dove…

Sorry, Pedge has his fingers in his ears and is singing “Purple Rain” right now, just in case. Maybe I should whisper a little…I’m just gonna give a little reminder that trigger warnings are there for a reason. You just protect yourself like Pedge does, and if you don’t like something, block it! I saw some scary pics last night I just blocked that ish straight away, no thank you! 

But sometimes I have a tendency to “block” myself, and that’s something my REAL therapist and I have been working on. What? No Pedge, I’m sorry the time that we spend together is very therapeutic, but it’s also important to speak with a professional. No, she doesn’t make chocolate chip cookies the way you do, and yes I would like some Almond Milk.

Anyways, sometimes I feel silly or embarrassed or guilty about the things that I like. Do you ever feel that way? I worry that a playful cartoon like Pedge might appear childish or misrepresent some of the adult topics we address. I’ve started describing myself as a sexy ace, but that label doesn’t really fit. Pedge is running to get his Pride Flag from June, thank you for the support, P. I love fics that explore orientation and different types of love. Yes, Pedge I LOVED the work you did in “A Strange Way of Life”. I mean…that was hawt, and I’m not just talking about the oven right now.

I like unpacking fics that involve violence. I’m not 100% why, but I feel safe within myself to explore those feelings, particularly in a fictional environment and not a real one. Yes Pedge, I DID watch TLOU and that hospital scene was VERY believable. No, I don’t know if Laurence Olivier liked chocolate chip cookies, but I’m sure he would have liked you. This October we’re going to explore some Halloween fics with some of your SUPER scary characters like Dave York and Max Phillips. Pedge, you know I can still see you even when you’re hiding underneath the covers, right? Okay, you just let me know if we overstimulate ourselves, okay? Maybe we’ll read those during the daytime…

Pedge, did you know sometimes I even feel embarrassed about writing? (Ahem) alright, you don’t have to laugh about it, silly goose. I often refer to you as Pedge or P, because you’re an avatar. No, not the movie. Yes, I know it’s a classic. An avatar is an icon or figure that represents a REAL figure like Pedro Pascal.

Oh honey, I’m sorry, no you are VERY real. How could you eat so many cookies if you weren’t real? Oh cuddle bug…okay you just nestle up in here for a hug, I’m sorry I made you cry. All I mean to say is that thoughts and feelings and desires are VERY real, and sometimes giving them a name or an image can help us sort through the complicated parts of ourselves! And it can mean whatever we want. It doesn’t mean we’re delusional, or violent or bad, it just means that we’re human. And humans use art to understand themselves and life.

Yes, and cookies. We also enjoy cookies and movies and museums and pleasure and all kinds of things that don’t need an explanation, they just get to be enjoyed, much like the fandom.

Sigh. No we’re not broken, we’re just human. Well, some of us are human and some of us are avatars, but we both need Love. And cookies. They’re ready? Okay good, this existential and literary crisis has made me very hungry. When in doubt, try to remember that feelings and thoughts are neutral, it’s what you DO with those emotions that defines their meaning and external impact.

In closing, Pedge and I just want you to know how much we like you. You’re good. You’re not bad. Okay, you’re not PERFECT. You’re just you, and we like that. Keep doing your best! Keep exploring, keep learning, keep growing, keep wanting! And if there are some emotions that feel too big even for cookies to handle, think about getting your own therapist, like me! Pedge is currently occupied, so you’ll have to get your own. Mostly, just be good to yourself and be good to others. And remember that sometimes a cookie is just a cookie. Yes, Pedge, you’ve done an extraordinary job with this batch, I must say. Yes Pedge. I love you too.

*thanks @thecutestgrotto for the dividers!

Pedro Fandom Bingo Finale

I love these kinds of activities! Here's the last update, it's been a great year of Tumblr 💖 I have a separate reblog account so check out @pedrotease for all the deets! And thanks to @burntheedges for the fun prompt! Finale Bingo, thanks to the writers for all you do!

Dave York No One Has to Know What We Do @guiltyasdave Down Bad @schnarfer The Roomate Agreement @auteurdelabre Melt @sizzlingcloudmentality Dieter Sweet Dee @yopossum Devotion, Self Care w/ Dieter + Jett @morallyinept My Darling Muse Mr. Ben Visiting @ladamedusoif Ternion @exquisiteserotonin Joel Miller All Good Things @criticallyacclaimedstranger Oberyn Unshelled @inept-the-magnificent He Will Slay You With His Tongue @iamasaddie Hurt/Comfort Trope (Joel Edition) Somewhere to Run, I Know Who You Are @punkshort Nothing Hits Quite Like That First Kiss @backtothefanfiction Javier Pena Kinktober 2024 @flightlessangelwings Afterglow Marcus Pike Is It Real? @f0rever15elf Pike's Place Pero Tovar Drabble #4 @toomanystoriessolittletime General Acacius Soak @juletheghoul Din Shower Sex @pedropascallme Javi Gutierrez Slow @morallyinept Phoenix Rising Agent Whiskey Glorification @morallyinept How Much Does Devotion Weight? @anabdaniels Marcus Moreno Thanksgiving Delights Cock Warming @flightlessangelwings Frankie Morales You're My Stranger in the Dark @lady-of-glass-and-bone Moody Frankie New Pedro Character Little Dove @palioom Unmasked Tim Rockford The Detective and the Agent @604to647 Husband Material Max Phillips Blood Sucking Witch Ezra One Stop Shop @morallyinept

Pike's Place The Holiday

A huge thank you to @burntheedges for a fun Roll-a-Trope Challenge that has turned into a slow burn, snowed in Winter Series. I have @inept-the-magnificent to thank for all their encouragements and outline rec's!

Triggers: Tipsy Pike (cutest ever), slight profanity, sexy thoughts, accidental lingerie (?), discussions of ex, stranded car trouble, discussion of pandemic...

Series Masterlist

You stood, poised with crowbar and cell phone in hand, watching the adorable, pink-cheeked man in front of you swaying ever so slightly. “How can I help you?’ his voice comedically cracked at the end, as the tv meandered on with Jimmy Stewart’s countenance flickering before you. Still shivering slightly from the cold your explanation cascaded forth, somewhat unhinged, 

“ImeansincethepandemicIcanttellifImcomingorgoing.Itsbeenalongroadmethaphoricallyliterallysexuallyspiritually.OfcoursenotallwhowanderarelostbutthisgalisasIcantfindmyAirbnb.BessiekonkedoutonthesideoftheroadcouldIuseyourlandline?”

You stood huffing slightly from the minimal hike, atmospheric cold and rambling monologue, which seemed to have no affect on your clueless cabin mate. He stood irresolute except for a slight waver that betrayed his intoxicated state. Feeling more awkward by the second you glanced around the room for any sign of life, noticing a small lanyard by the door that stated, “Agent Pike; Art Squad”, featuring a clean shaven version of the business lumberjack in front of you. If this man was a threat, he was certainly masking it well. You were the one holding a crowbar and crashing his tipsy Christmas extravaganza. A pang of guilt flashed through you as you realized the silence was stretching into an eternity. Agent Pike might be cutting quite the cozy figure, but you were starting to feel like Winter Barbie in your pink snow suit, complete with crow bar and cell phone props. All you needed was the Pink Corvette and you could leave this sweet man alone for the holidays…

Pike blinked confusedly as his eyes focused in and out on the vision in front of him. Was he hallucinating? One minute he had been enjoying a bottle of red, and commiserating with Jimmy Stewart. The next second a pink snow bunny had materialized on his snow-bidden doorstep and was propositioning him with a crowbar and cell phone. Merry Christmas? He swallowed dryly, pink cotton candy between his ears, static in his vision. This must be a mistake, have I finally summoned love itself, he wondered? Was he saying anything? Am I saying anything? Time seemed to be moving in liquid droplets, or lightly falling snow. He was cold. He was hot. He was confused. He was drunk? Why was he wearing a suit jacket? The pink vision was talking to him in lilting tones, but he couldn’t concentrate, focusing on her sparkly eyes and curving body. Clearing his throat, he decided to reboot.

“How can I help you?” he repeated dumbly, attempting to stifle a small unbidden hiccup. Pike stumbled slightly, chuckling to himself…

You lurched forward in a pink swirl of energy, attempting to grab his hand and finding it impossible with a crow bar and cell phone. “Whoa, steady there, Agent! You okay?”

His eyelids were now half closed as he grinned dopily, “Sorry, I feel like I might bump into you. Guess that red rrreally packed a punch…” he swung loosely, poking you in the ribs eliciting a small shiver of surprise. You set the crowbar down on the nearby table and pocketed your cell phone. 

“I’m sorry, I’m totally disrupting your holiday celebration…with your family?…” you ventured a curiosity, catching another glance at his comfy gray sweatpants and wondering what lay beneath. Swatting the thought away, you held him by the wrists lightly as he swayed like a dandelion in the wind, attempting to catch sight of a…non-existent ring.

“Just me” he grinned, though it bordered on a whimper that caught in his throat, as his forehead scrunched in concern. “All alone on the holidays…” he trailed off, nearly to himself.

Oh my gawd. Did I just fall in love? Your eyebrows shot up to your forehead in surprise, looking over at the dwindling fire and near finished bottle of red. Gosh, maybe you weren’t the only one feeling lonely this holiday season. After the pandemic it seemed as though the world had moved on without you, but maybe there were some others feeling a little left behind. You pouted sympathetically, wondering if you had found a kindred spirit.

“Come on, let’s get you situated here…” you easily led him to the couch as he collapsed unceremoniously in a heap, sighing heavily. Of course, it might have been bravado on your part, but this guy did seem to be a security agent of some kind, and he certainly wasn’t a pressing danger in this state. You looked over at his forlorn grin as he rubbed his socked feet together like a cricket. Heaving a sigh of relief, you plopped down on the couch next to him, trying to figure out your next steps. You looked around the small cabin. Nobody had a landline anymore, and even if they did, who was gonna be able to reach you at this time of night, in a snow storm? 

“You’re stuck!” he exclaimed, pointing a finger as though divining the truth you had uttered mere seconds ago. You smiled broadly, feeling yourself melt into the couch. This was going to be a problem.

“Yes, Detective, that is correct” you grinned, looking around the room for one final scavenging hunt before giving up completely. “My car isn’t moving another foot and apparently neither am I”.

He nodded appraisingly as though clairvoyant, “I thought asz much” he slurred slightly, trying to gather his bearings, and sitting up a bit to focus. “I’m not a detective, but I notice stuff” he kept nodding and gave you a little wink. You pursed your lips together in amusement. I mean, you WERE crashing his solo holiday celebration, but damned if you weren’t already smitten with Agent Pike.

“I mean, I don’t notice EV-E-R-Y-THING” he emphasized every syllable dramatically, not attempting to stifle the next hiccup. “My girlfriend (hiccup)…”

Your stomach lurched forward, unsure where his sentence was headed…

“…left me for another guy”.

You tried to hide your guilty enthusiasm with a sympathetic pout.

“S’okay” he waved his hands in front of him, nearly knocking over the wine bottle in the process. “I moved waaaaaay too fasst. But no more. Nope. Not for me (hiccup). I’mma just go it alooooone…” he trailed off, blinking rapidly. “Drinkss?” he gestured broadly, nearly knocking over the wine bottle again, which he punctuated with a hiccup. “S-sorry I stoods up a little fast. Too fast…” he trailed off again pouring the remaining dregs into his glass.

You sniffled with emotion or congestion watching this puppy dog of a man unravel in front of you. “Why can’t I find somebody like you?” you whispered, eyes widening to the shape of saucers, chagrined that your inner monologue had somehow materialized outward.

“What?” he hiccuped, offering you the now empty wine bottle. You took it from his hands gently. “Okay, last round Agent Pike” you smirked, wondering at this enigmatic turn of events. Transparently you marveled at your miraculously good fortune, but at what cost? You found yourself snowed in, with a teddy bear of a guy, who was apparently nursing a broken heart, and yours had yet to start beating again. You twiddled your thumbs nervously, wary to share too much information. But drawn magnetically forward by his warm gaze, you decided to hazard the harsh truth. He won’t even remember this conversation tomorrow anyways, you rationalized.

Pike was squinting hard to try to cement every detail into his memory. If this was how he met his wife, he wanted to remember the moment it happened. That was stupid. She’d have to be his fiancé first. He shook his head slightly attempting to clear it of cobwebs. Why can’t you be a normal human and just start with a date, you imbecile. That’s ridiculous, you can’t go on a date out in the wilderness. She might not even be single. I wonder how many children she wants, the thoughts floated through his mind unrequested. Listen to what she’s saying you idiot, he chastised himself. You’re an officer of the law, Pike, get it together. He tried to sip his wine introspectively, quickly becoming aware that was intensifying his intoxication. Whatever you do, just take it slow, Pike. Don’t rush in like last time. The last thing women want is someone moving too fast and making assumptions that aren’t real. This gal finds herself in a tight pinch, and all you’re going to do is make sure she gets home in one piece. He found himself staring at your lips as they moved fluidly, wondering how they might feel….Hot damn, shut up, Pike! You’re already muddled enough, just keep your thoughts to yourself and don’t say anything stupid. She’s pretty. He shifted with slight discomfort noticing the tell-tale pinching feeling between his legs. For that matter, just don’t do or say anything at all. Robot. You’re a robot. You don’t think, you don’t feel anything.

“It’s nice to talk to a real human” you began, unsure of how much to share and what to omit. “I’ve been working from home a lot, and sometimes it seems like the world just keeps getting smaller and smaller”.

He nodded his head imploringly, holding the wine glass between his lips like a sippy cup. You almost couldn’t help yourself. There was something about this man that probably charmed everyone to his gentle personality, but you didn’t care. It had been so long since you had anyone listen to you, particularly someone in gray sweatpants. You found yourself melting like a snow…woman into the couch, assured that he somehow understood what you were talking about. Just two people. Lamenting the lamentable. Sobbing into their Christmas cookies. The holidays SUCK. Donna Reed caught your eye as she ran the down the street from Jimmy Stewart’s passionate advances. You rolled your eyes in annoyance, still hoping they ended up together. Horror upon horror, “Mary Hatch” was a librarian and a SPINSTER! Sigh. If she had lived during the 21st century things you probably would have been buddies. But alas, she was in the 1940’s and you were in the 20 somethings. She was a fictional character and you were as real as it gets. She was wearing a snood. And you were in a pink snow suit.

He sloppily reached out to grab your knee. “I know!” he nearly shouted, nodding like a bobble head.

You giggled slightly, mostly to keep from crying, but you felt the emotion bubble up within you nonetheless. You hadn’t even voiced the hurt to yourself, so speaking it into existence was a bit harder than you anticipated. The fire crackled in the hearth warmly, adding a softness to the moment that floated hazily in the room. You began to notice how hot everything had become, staring into his eyes as they drifted lazily in and out of focus.

“I haven’t even….dated anyone since the pandemic…” your voice nearly disappeared, shocked you were sharing this information with a man you had suspected of being a serial killer but 20 minutes earlier.

“Oh nooo” he lamented, tipping his head sideways on to the couch and turning his body towards you. “Well, you’re not missing anyone… No, that’s not right (hiccup). I’m sorry. Men are dumb” he paused, suddenly befuddled in his buzzing state that he had said too much. “Or women? Women are dumb!” he cringed, trying to blearily ascertain the situation, now growing concerned that he had misread the signs AND insulted you.

You grinned again, appreciative of his awareness even in an intoxicated state. “Yes, well women can be stupid too, but boyfriends take the cake” you huffed. Taking special notice of the amber flecks in the pooling brown of his eyes, you tilted your head to meet his. “At some point, it really does seem easier to just go it alone”. Damn, why was it so hot in here? Peri-menopause ought to be a few years off for Christ’s sake. You looked over at the crackling fire.

“I guess it’s my own fault” you slid the zipper of your snow suit down, dabbing at the perspiration on your neck and overheating in more ways than one. “Somehow I just became more and more isolated as time progressed” your lower lip wobbled unexpectedly, surprising even you. “I wish I could be more relaxed. More forward. Much like Bessie the Hyundai, I have a tendency to move as slow as molasses”. You looked over at his doe like countenance, as he had apparently drained the final dregs of his wine glass and was looking pointedly at your chest. He gulped dryly, raising his eyes to meet yours.

Oops. You glanced down at your unzipped snow suit, suddenly remembering there wasn’t much beneath. A sparkly pink bra and matching underwear had most assuredly caught his attention, but had slipped yours. Coughing slightly, you slid the zipper back up just enough to showcase your burgeoning cleavage. His brain seemed to have short circuited as you winced with embarrassment. 

Marry me, he thought. Shut up, Pike! Did you not learn your lesson in Sacramento? This isn’t some cinematic, sappy movie that you’re watching on AMC! You’re an agent for God’s sakes! Man of the law. He licked his lips dryly wondering who had drunk all of the wine. I’m just a hopeless romantic, emphasis on the hopeless part, he drolled to himself. Just a lone wolf. I wonder what her lips taste like. Shhh! Lonely wolf. Awwwooooo! He stifled a wine-fiiled giggle..

About three things you were absolutely positive. Number one, Agent Pike was the most adorable non-serial killer you had ever met. Second, there was a part of him, and you didn’t know how potent that part might be, was ogling your…snow suit. And third…you seemed to have no problem with it whatsoever.

“I think you’re a hero” he hiccuped, holding his now empty wine glass up in a toast. His eyes were twinkling as a stray lock of hair dangled in front of his chocolate colored eyes. Puffing his cheeks to blow the strand away, you mercifully reached up to draw it back into place.

“I’m a hero, Agent Pike?” 

“Yeaaaaah” he drawled, then sitting up suddenly in a burst of focused energy. “You must be the heroine of your own story!” he looked like he was about to stand up and deliver a speech, so you positioned both hands on his quads to calm the situation.

“Okayeeee Pike. I think if it’s okay with you I can bunk here for the evening, and come morning I can call Triple A and see about getting a tow. Does that sound okay to you Agent?” you gazed at him curiously as he swayed slightly, still grinning.

“There’s hot chocolate” he offered, somewhat randomly, but helpful nonetheless. “You can call me Mr. Pike if you want (hiccup). I mean Mr. Marcus…M-M-arcus…” he mumbled adorably.

“Thank you for the hot chocolate, Mr. Marcus” you offered sweetly, noticing that your hands were still cemented to his broad thighs. You wiggled your fingers slightly, in a near out of body experience, as he remained intoxicatingly unawares.

“We can finish the movie!” he exclaimed. “I’ll take the couch!” he hiccuped, lying back with contentment as you took the wine glass out of his hand gently. “I wanna hear it!” he chanted “I’m the hero of my own story!!!” he repeated, grabbing the remote to unmute the tv and then closing his eyes serenely.

“You’re the hero of my story” you absentmindedly repeated, noticing the next movie “The Holiday” had started twinkling before you. You gazed at the small staircase leading up to a possible bedroom for the night. This certainly was not the way you had anticipated your adventure starting, but perhaps Agent Pike was going to be the Christmas gift you never expected, but always deserved. All that remained was to see if you could let yourself receive it, before the Christmas Miracle evaporated. The familiar opening melody of “The Holiday” began as you looked over to notice small snuffles and light snores drift from Pike’s plush lips, made pink in the flickering fire-light. Art Squad indeed, you marveled, finally able to get a glance at his aquiline nose and gentle profile. Your eyes drifted over his broad chest, soft stomach and cozy gray sweat pants. Holding your hands firmly in your lap, you drew yourself up to grab the nearest chunky blanket and tuck him in. Taking an indulgent moment to lightly draw your fingertips over his frame, you thought you caught the lightest whisper of, “Love you, honey” before he slipped back into a wine-soaked slumber. 

Oh my, this WAS going to be a problem, you smiled, shutting off the tv, and padding up the stairs to find your bedding for the evening.

Merry Christmas to us all, and to all a good night…

*thanks @samspenandsword for the dividers!

Happy Birthday!

Ah, our beloved Joel just had a little birthday on the 26th and Tumblr is alight with his beautiful gifties! Pedge wants to give something back, does anyone need a little special attention from Joel Miller?

Pick your color scheme and occasion and Pedge and I are going to craft you a special greeting card! As always, Pedge is a self made man (if you count Bitmoji...). I'm going to keep this request open for the rest of the year for anyone who needs it!

Don't forget to include your color scheme and what occasion we are recognizing. It doesn't have to be one of celebration if you are experiencing a loss, or a bad day or just want a quickie (#ahem encouragement). Pedge is not opposed to sexy exhortations either. Ope, Pedge has already dusted off the crayons and scissors I better get back! PM me for a little pick me up!

Pedro Posts, Polls and Prompts...

Let's rock the vote y'all! I am so inspired by my fellow Tumblr writers, and y'all come up with some GREAT prompts. Please feel free to make a specific request, and jump on the bandwagon!

Pinterest Mood Board Bingo Card Dieter's Sky High Brownie Delights Pedro Party! Charcuterie Challenge WIP Poll Roll-a-Trope Challenge Married Joel Sits On You 2024 Hallo-Weenie Pedge PP Fandom Bingo Trope-Off WIP WIP Poll Pike's Place Trope-Off 2024 Pedge, Painter, Poet...Writer? Pedge Tease Boxed or Unboxed? Sexiest Man Alive Treasure Hunt The Boopage Wars Vote for Pedro! Moody Moreno + WIP Poll WIP Friday; What's With the Tags? Dead Dove December WIP Wednesday: Pedge's Bookshop Pedge's Fave 2024 Things A Year of 1sts Pedro's Holiday Feast Pedge's Tree and Christmas Card Pedro Stories Secret Santa Pining In Progress Get to Know Your Moots WIP; Pedge's Plays

The Audition:

This is Part Two of the New York, New York Series where I thought it would be fun to explore a realistic jaunt into the past. It's mostly self indulgent fluff, although just to be safe...

Triggers: fluff, lite smut at the end, saccharin sweet hand holding, alcohol consumption, descriptions of athletic (f) body, slight profanity, description of cigarettes, RPF re: Narcos audition

Lazily, you stretched your body like a cat, noticing your bedmate sprawled out next to you. Their pink button nose twitched with sensitivity as the morning light streamed in from the crusty window. You twisted your feet against the multi-colored quilt, blinking sleepily into the daylight. New York, New York. What a wonderful town.

Giving one final stretch you nuzzled your furry bedmate to happy purrs and biscuits and placed your feet on the cold wooden floor, padding down the hallway of your Airbnb. Standing at the kitchen counter you prepared the small metal espresso pot, cracking your joints noisily. Rehearsals had been a dream, but the wear and tear of New York foot traffic was nothing to scoff at. You’d met your creative team, perused the show sketches, started choreography, fell in love with your cast mates and moved into Ripley Grier. You’d even memorized the sketchy subway patterns and Thai Food take out locations, but you hadn’t done one thing.

Bumped into Mr. New York.

You licked your lips in anticipation as the espresso pot boiled in front of you. Pedro.

Pedge.

He seemed like more of a Pedge. Your guardian angel. That bumpy landing followed by a whirlwind arrival had almost completely derailed you in a New York minute, but something about those swirling orbs of chocolate-eyed concern had stuck with you. In a city that never sleeps it seemed almost ludicrous that you’d bump into him again. The cat delicately wrangled itself through your poised ankles as you poured a steaming cup of liquid energy into a chipped cup. But in the Big Apple, you smirked, anything can happen.

After two weeks of rehearsals things were going well, but they’d sent you further downtown for your final costume fitting and you had NO idea where you were going. The bustling underbelly of the New York subway system still had a certain romanticized grime, but WHY were you always lost? You nearly tripped over a discarded scarf and elbowed your way to the approaching train as your hair blew back in surprise at its gust of wind. Allowing the sea of humanity to exit you merged with the entering crowd and took your place, eyeing the suspiciously sticky puddle to the left of your feet. Assume the position; wide stance. Gripping the pole with one hand you took a deep breath and…there he was.

Face contorted in focused concentration and holding a nearly empty Venti Iced Starbucks Cup, along with loose leaflet pages, an iPod, phone and wallet. You smiled nervously, attempting to hone your skills of telepathy. If New York had taught you one thing it was to immediately seize every opportunity that presented itself, because the Big Apple waits for no one. You slid your way through a barrage of annoyed faces till your belly button was positioned nearly in front of his nose. You cleared your throat, but he remained buried in his concentration amidst the metallic, humming atmosphere. A busker began singing “Falling Slowly” and for one horrifying moment you considered disappearing into the masses, but noticing the large print on his cup, your curiosity got the better of you.

“Brown Eyes???!!!!” you exclaimed as his eyes darted up to your face with surprise. Dropping his pages on the subway floor, you nearly bumped heads trying to pick them up as a headphone now dangled unceremoniously, twisting in the air.

“J!” he smiled, brightening up the entire car as it slowed to a halt with a grinding crash. Having forgotten your wide stance, you nearly fell over backwards as he grabbed you by the front of your shirt and awkwardly pulled you onto his lap.

“Oops!” he blushed, pulling the other headphone out and beaming. “I wondered when I would see you again, how are rehearsals?”

Having temporarily forgotten your name and all manner of information you took quick note of the stubble dotting his chin and scent of something woodsy. Clearing your throat you stood up shakily, attempting to press your shirt down unsuccessfully. “It’s going great Pedge!”

…oops…

“Er…can I call you Pedge?” New York City: One, J: Zero.

“Of course!” he shouted patting the open seat next to him. Plopping down, your eyes took in the sides he was holding in his hand.

“Narcos” you nodded “intriguing”.

“Oh” he deflated a bit, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, I got a callback for tomorrow, but I can’t even get arrested, even after the…thing..” he lowered his voice conspiratorially, whispering into your ear, eliciting a small shiver.

“Well good, Narcos are supposed to arrest people, not the other way around” you joked. “Unless you’re playing a bad guy? What’s the scene?”

He chuckled light-heartedly handing over the pages, “It’s not the dialogue I’m worried about.”

Your eyes widened like saucers reading the lurid description:

Javier Pena and Helena are fucking on the living room couch. Liquor bottles and cigarettes sit in the foreground as the camera pans to their naked bodies. Javier finishes quickly, and eventually lays back on the couch to light a cigarette.

YOU nearly dropped the pages this time, reddening in embarrassment. “Are you playing Helena?” you coughed, watching his eyes sparkle before you.

“No, they said my tits were too small” he pouted, taking the pages back and smirking mischievously. You pursed your lips, attempting to hold back a laugh. Saucy devil.

“I mean, this is probably nothing compared to..the thing…” you repeated, referencing his recent GOT gig.

“It’s true, we had lots of nudity in that one” he agreed. “I’m pretty okay with it as long as I check with my scene partner, but this feels different somehow…” he trailed off.

“It feels more intimate” you surmised.

He winked, rolling the pages into a funnel and chewing his lip.

“They really should have somebody on-site to consult for intimacy scenes” you pondered. “I know I'm preaching to the choir here, but it’s about a lot more than just stripping and calling ‘action’! I’m never quite sure how to handle those auditions myself…”.

He nodded, bumping your knee with his and sipping down the final dregs of his espresso.

“Particularly with coffee…no wonder you’re so wired!” you pinched his knee sardonically as he crumpled with embarrassment.

“A man’s gotta eat” he huffed, pausing to think. “Wanna grab lunch?”

You’d never played hooky in NY, but your costume fitting wasn’t for another hour and Pedro pulled you through the epicenter of Times Square as you dodged a mostly Naked Cowboy and a dubious looking…Elmo? You tilted your head upwards, taking in the large marquis signs and towering hotels. “God, I hate Times Square” he muttered under his breath, weaving precariously through the tourists and tchotchke shops featuring every manner of “I Heart NY”.

“Shake Shack okay?” he nearly shouted into your face, gripping your hand tightly and moving forward at a breakneck pace.

“Sure!” you exclaimed, unsure of its significance, but excited to feel the vibe of the city. You could feel the pulse of his hand gripping yours, noticing a small tattoo in the crook by his thumb.

“It’s like “In and Out!” he retorted, “but even better! I know….sacrilege. You’ll thank me later, I promise…” whisking the door open and nearly shoving you inside. The rest of the day was a blur as one hour became two and two became four. You both raced into the costume fitting, still holding hands and giggling like kids. The repetition of the sewing machines and office talk immediately silenced you, as you made bee line for the fabulous individual wrapped in measuring tape and bright pink feathers.

“Darling, you’re 30 minutes late” they dead panned, eyeing you up and down suspiciously.

“I know I’m so sorry! I get lost everywhere I go! Is there still time for the fitting?” you panted, biting your lip apologetically.

“Come with me to the dressing room” they breezed past you with newfound amibition. “Your boyfriend can sit in the waiting area…”.

You gulped loudly, dropping Pedge’s hand with embarrassment. You looked over at him as he made a funny face. “Looks like I got the part” he chided, bopping you on the head with the Narcos sides and placing his hand on your lower back.

You felt your body temperature raise slightly as you headed into the backroom. Stepping into the curtained area you gawked at the gorgeous, red sequined dress hanging in front of you. Running your hands over the material you quickly ascertained its functionality. Breathable. Moveable. Wait, a minute. This plunging neckline was a bit too…plunging, as in, all the way downtown. Hmmm…Unable to reach the zipper in the back your eyes widened in concern.

“Move it or lose it honey!” the seamstress yelled, drawing the curtains back theatrically. “Let’s see what God gave ya!”. They pulled you into the center of the room as Pedge’s mouth dropped open in surprise.

Your black laced bra was fully visible through the non-existent front panel, and that one freckle on your butt cheek peeked out from the unzipped back portion.

“Sold” Pedge whispered with a graveled undertone, as the the seamstress arched a well manicured eyebrow to high heaven.

“Well that’s one way to sell tickets” they joked, yanking the zipper closed in the back as Pedge’s eyes darkened seductively. He cleared his throat, shifting with discomfort in the seat, and readjusting his pants with one hand.

“Looks good to me” he piped up, giving you a wink and twisting his mouth comedically.

“Thanks, boyfriend” you smirked, hoping your tits weren’t pointing directly through the fabric.

You floated through the rest of the afternoon in a dreamy hazy. They had released you from the day of rehearsal and Pedge convinced you to take a stroll in Central Park. Cyclists and kids dotted the hillside, and you couldn’t help but notice your hands seemed to brush together a lot in passing. Grabbing some ice cream from a nearby cart you found yourself uptown near the Metropolitan Museum of Art. About to step foot into the crosswalk a horse drawn carriage nearly bulldozed over you, as Pedge grabbed you around the waist protectively.

“We’re walking here!” he shouted, flipping the man off, and holding on to you a bit longer than was necessary. “You okay?” he asked, reaching up to wipe the ice cream remnants from the corner of your mouth.

“Never better” you smiled, lifting one foot slightly off the ground.

Meg Ryan, eat your heart out.

Pedge grabbed your hand as you walked into the massive, echoing chambers of the Met, grabbing your audio guide and museum map. “I prefer the Guggenheim, but the Met is unreal” Pedge beamed, ushering you into the Egyptian room with pride.

“I have decided…dat for the rest of the day…we are going to talk like dis” he whispered to you in front of the ceiling high paneled windows. “Waiter…”

“Waiter…” you smiled with acknowledgement.

“There is too much pepper on my paprikash…”.

You started giggling with delight until you both blurted out:

“But I would proud to partake of your pecan piiiiiiie!!!!”

Dissolving into fits of laughter you noticed a security guard clear their throat noisily in response.

“What, are we going to Katz's next?” you whispered clandestinely.

“I’ll have what she’s having” his voice dropped about an octave, grabbing you by the jean pocket and pulling every so slightly. Your breath hitched in your throat, noticing your close proximity. He didn’t break eye contact for so long you thought he might kiss you, but then he sighed heavily, dragging his hand across your abdomen. “Told you it was beautiful” he grinned, grabbing one of your fingers lightly and leading you through the open hall.

Sharing an audio guide, you were joined at the head, giggling in hushed overtones and pondering some of the classic art pieces. Walking into a room filled with ornate insignia and full bodied armor, Pedro twirled impressively, lunging forward with athleticism.

You took an embarrassed look around to make sure you weren’t catching unnecessary attention.

“I haven’t even told you anything about Croatia for GOT!” he exclaimed, a bit too loudly as you shushed him clandestinely. “There’s this scene for this MAJOR character that drives everyone nuts, and there’s an assassination attempt…” you covered his mouth with mouth hands smiling up into his face.

“Stawp!” I don’t even know the characters and you’re probably not allowed to talk about those details ya big goof!” you whispered, as he kept speaking in muffled tones into your hand. Darting his tongue across your palm you yelped with surprise. “Stawp!”

He grabbed your hand back and blew a stream of air over your fingers. “Do you want me to do a palm reading?” he asked, suddenly serious.

“Um, sure? Can you do that sort of thing?”

“Verrrrrry convincingly…” he joked, rubbing one finger down the epicenter of your hand. You shifted your weight tensely.

“I see an…interesting stranger in your future” he cocked one eyebrow up, bemused.

You rolled your eyes, poking him in the sternum as he chuckled. “What about money?” you pointedly asked, placing your other hand on your hip.

He closed his eyes dramatically, humming under his breath. You waited with anticipation, moving slightly closer, feeling the heat emanating off of his body. He brought your hand up to his forehead with bravado, “Zoltarrrr sayssss….actors never make…moneeeeeey” he chanted, opening his eyes to find you mere inches from his face. “Hi” he whispered, pressing his thumb into your palm and bringing it down to your side.

“I suppose there are things worth more than money” you mused, completely transfixed by his pouty lower lip. Watching his Adam’s Apple bob in his throat hungrily, you reached up and placed a hand to his neck feeling his feathery pulse intensify with the closeness.

“Nah” he broke the tension with a wide smile, giving you a quick peck at the corner of your mouth and running away like a kid in a candy store.

You stood with your mouth agape, beaming from ear to ear. Ah, the culture of art.

“Sick of me yet?” he questioned, caging you in against the vibrating subway door.

“Hardly” you yelled, covering your mouth in immediate embarrassment. “But what about your callback?”

His face registered slight shock for a millisecond, remembering the day’s events, and then shrugging his shoulders. “Eh, I’ll probably call my agent and bail. I don’t think I’ve got a shot in hell…” he reasoned.

“Nonsense!” you retorted. “I’m putting you to work immediately! You’re still in Brooklyn, right? We can grab some Thai and run your lines.” you tipped forward slightly with an unexpected bump, nearly brushing lips.

Pedge’s eyes sparkled mischievously. “You’re not gonna give me a line-reading are you?” he teased, pinching your chin lightly.

“Only if you suck” you wrapped your fingers around his wrist playfully. “I generally ask for compensation via foot massages”. Pedge glanced down at your feet with curiosity. “I think that can be arranged.”

“I haven’t…laughed this hard in years…” you wheezed, attempting to balance the Thai Food, wine and Pedge up four flights of stairs. Pedro dropped the keys in front of his apartment as you finally doubled over in laughter, tears streaming down your face.

“Stawp, stawp!” you pleaded, holding your stomach. “You’re gonna make me peeeee….”.

“Absolutely not!” he bellowed. “My landlord will fine me for that!” he burst into the apartment, trying to drag you over the threshold amidst your gasps for air.

“We haven’t even started drinking yet…” you barely managed to get out, crawling down the hallway to what seemed like the bathroom. Returning to the kitchen a few moments later, Pedge had grabbed some paper plates and opened the two buck chuck.

“Bon appetite!” he smiled gesturing broadly to the delightful spread as you took in the meager New York residence.

“Very bachelor pad” you teased, poking him in the ribs and gazing at the futon, clothes rack and piled books. “Okay Mr. Bibliophile” you observed, catching the titles of “The Color Purple”, “Meisner On Acting” and an art book on Rousseau.

“It’s no Versailles, but it’s home” he grinned, taking a large bite out of the crab rangoon.

Inhaling your Thai Food, you were already two glasses of red wine in, and had to remind yourself to slow down. You were just having so much fun, talking about character development and fighting over the last spring roll.

“Do I have to goooo tomorrow?” he whined, plopping down on the couch with faux theatrics. “Couldn’t we just…go to another museum? Oooh, have you ever been to Lincoln Center? Or Sardis?”

“No, no, no” you laughed, sitting opposite him on the couch and gazing intently into his eyes. “Do you think you have it memorized yet?”.

He turned his body to face yours, returning the intensity of your focus. “It’s not like there was a lot of dialogue” he reminded, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear tenderly. You swallowed dryly, feeling the happy effects of the wine buzzing around in your head. Curling your legs underneath you and resting your hands definitively on his quads you lectured.

“As you know, film and television has a much more intimate intensity than the performative styles of the theater…”

His eyes widened with acknowledgement “Thank you Professor J…”.

“Shuddup!” you giggled, continuing. “The most important thing you can do to maintain emotional intimacy for the camera is body language, communication and eye contact…” you informed, licking your lips and concentrating on his.

“Is that so?” he leaned in, returning your gaze and starting the scene.

“We get better every time we practice” he placed his arms on either side of your legs, moving in closer.

“You’re amazing Javier” you drolled, smirking sardonically.

“Well, don’t go overboard” his eyes darted down to your wine stained lips as you tipped backwards onto the couch.

“What you’re missing in this apartment is a woman” you teased, pulling him gently forward and straddling his torso with your knees.

“It’s fine the way it is” he rasped moving his head down to your sternum and placing a small chaste kiss across your midriff.

“Good…blocking” you managed to whisper. “Improvisation is…essential” you ran your fingers through his hair gently.

“What are you doing this weekend?” he intoned into your chest, now nibbling at your solar plexus.

Your breath came in shallow bursts, as you tried to remember your lines. “Uh….work or play?” you muttered, as the lines between lines blurred hazily.

“Ven aqui” he looked up, drawing his hands up the sides of your body slowly and pausing to cup the back of your neck.

“What?”

“Dame un beso” he drew one finger across your lower lip seductively, resting his body weight carefully atop you.

“I think that’s my line” you sighed.

Time seemed to stand still as you both held the moment, intently.

“I think tomorrow…you have a very good chance…” you smiled.

Moody Pena

I've been having so much fun with mood boards, I hope writers can utilize them for inspiration! Appropriately titled, one of my favorite authors is @jolapeno and I've saved a billion of their fics for late night sexy literature. I hope you will check some of them out and stay tuned for our next installment of New York, New York. Pedge finds himself auditioning for "Narcos" in the Big Apple and needs YOUR help...

Make Me Like the Holidays Soft Joel The Day Frankie Came Home Can You Ever Really Know? I Like the Way You... It's the Sniffles Late Night Texts Do Me Yourself Unwrap Me Now Don't Move Honey Just Thinking... Fifteen Hundred and One There's Nothing Blue About You

Blossom Beauty, Blossom!

Pedge and I have been speaking at length about come of the recent Tumblr tiffs. While I am resolutely holding my own (#cough-lies), Pedge is an open book and has spent many an evening requiring copious cuddle time, chocolate chip cookies and sniffles. Luckily, we are up for the task! But I wanted to send a quick thanks to @millersflowermarket and @positivelypedro for their stellar work in focusing on the positive. Pedge might not be a registered therapist, but he ALWAYS provides me with some interesting insights...

In our PB + J sessions, Pedge feels it is very important to stick together ala "The One With Pedge and Jett" and "The One with Pedge and Queen Beef". I had come across some peripheral postulations, but Pedge was feeling a bit more curious and we went in search of (dun, dun, dun...)...the confessions blog (blog, blog, blog) [insert dramatic echo]. I had some hesitancy, but Pedge said to keep an open mind so we decided to give it a glance.

Oh my heavens! Pedge! Excuse me a moment this might require an emergency batch of chocolate chip cookies and face kisses. Hmmm...Pedge, if necessary, please reconnect with your somatic center by placing your hand across your chest and practicing some deep breathing (Pedge has some anxiety and who would blame him?)

I'm not 100% sure what the man himself would say, but Pedge is flumoxed. This is a complete mis-representation of his stance on self expression, positivity and...cookies.

I suppose confessions have an element of personal truth that can be appropriately considered. But as an amateur therapist (yes Pedge, I will include your sexy time proclivities...)...as an amateur therapist Pedge would like me to remind us all that truth must be viewed personally, intimately and within an appropriate context. And unfortunately, this blog is none of those things.

After reminding us both that we successfully survived Jr. High, Pedge and I signed off, blocking yet another negativity...

So that took care of that, and we are obviously on the continued hunt for any additional examples of plagarism or bullying that might occur. I reminded Pedge that loving discussion can provide some insights about difficult topics. Thank you to @gasolinerainbowpuddles for a nuanced discussion of NC and the therapeutic benefits of expression and the importance of Trigger Warnings. Pedge and I similarly speak about SH, ideation, mortality and other darker subjects in pieces like "Knitting Back Together".

Life can be very painful. Sexy time can be very confusing. The exploration of Love can be so lonely, isn't that right, Pedge? But I am confident as we continue to pursue Truth, Beauty and Love in the ways that make sense for us, we will find how much we share in common, rather than the many ways we might be divided.

In closing, (as Pedge continues his deep breathing practice) he would like me to remind us all to "be good to yourself and be good to others". It's always a good time for things like flowers, Love and, of course...chocolate chip cookies.

Yes Chef! Dieter's Sky High Brownies

Ingredients

1 cup cannabis-infused coconut oil 1 1/2 cups sugar 1 teaspoon vanilla extract 2 eggs 1 cup flour 1/2 cup unsweetened cocoa powder 1/2 tsp baking powder 1/2 tsp salt 1 cup chocolate chips

Turn on the oven to… “a hawt vibe”, and then mix the ingredients in…no, Dieter that’s a vase. Alright, most peeps should probs use a mixer, Dieter is using his hands. Yes D, I will be happy to lick your fingers when I have a moment. I suggested adding the dry ingredients to the wet ingredients, but Dieter started giggling as soon as I said the word “wet”. D, I don’t think we’re supposed to sample the cannabis before we…okay I’ll finish up here. Dieter has retired to his room to “watch the pretty rainbows form in his mind” and has requested we bring the brownies and our “bangin’ body” to his room when ready. #staybakedyall

Triggers: While we were "baking" Dieter the Chef taught me a naughty limerick and I thought I'd pass it on. Thanks to @punkshort for the fun prompt and congrats on the one year anniversary! D has cooked up the above mood board, poem and song to celebrate your artistry! Please imbibe at your own saucy risk...

Amongst all the chefs that you see His messy vibe fits to a tee He’s painter and poet He’s hawt and he knows it, “Would you like to have sex with me?” His question, though somewhat surprising Gives rise to your temperature rising Your lips form a YES! One needn’t have guessed Your morals he’ll have compromising. Starting the night with that look Your appetite clearly was hooked You went to your pad To bed the fine lad And learn how a chef like to “cook”. When sampling some of the fun He’s baking in more ways than one His favorite glaze is more Purple Haze And slapping your cinnamon buns. This Bubble Boy likes a cool kit-kat When edging his mistress or sweet brat. While giving a wank, Your tush-y he’d spank And pleasure your naughty pussy-cat? For boys or the girls he’s a bi And won’t say no to cherry pie. When adding some cream Your name he would scream Then ask if you want to get high. This evening, your sexy time cleft Was lonely and feeling bereft Your legs you did spread For his tousled head And found yourself chanting, “YES CHEF!” So let’s give a cheer for Chef Dieter Who mostly can cook with his “peeter” When adding the sauce Your lips he will gloss and say “Bon a Petite!” while he eats her....Mmmmmm....

If anyone is looking for more "saucy eats" please check out the recent @pedroscouts Ice Cream Social, we had a blast!

Pedge Polls + Prompts

Oooh! Pedge and I are such a sucker for these cute games! Thanks @burntheedges for a great idea, anyone want to join in? The only one tenuous is the last because this year I was finally published! Not sure you can tell from my non-beta'd writing lol...Looks like I need to start drinking those 6 shots of espresso...

Pinterest Mood Boards

Thanks @inept-the-magnificent for that fun Pinterest prompt, it made me realize how much I enjoy those quick little vibes and snacks. Pop on Pinterest and select your top 5 images for celebrity, beverage, fashion, aesthetic and style. Meanwhile, what if we tried a Moodboard Monday?

I know Papi, if only the answers always came so easily...

Hey beauties! Welcome to Pedge's World, our little corner of the digital universe where healing, freedom and chocolate chip cookies reign supreme! Pedge helps me sort through all of my sad, sexy, angry, euphoric, hungry, cranky, spiritual, creative moods! I hope you will join us! 18+, no minors!

Sexy Series Masterlist (RPF)

Let's Stick Together!

Art Projects Dieter's Art Studio; My Darling Muse

Afterglow Series Dead Dove December; The Deepest Cut

Pedge's Campsite

Fun With Mood Boards!

Pedro Boys

Pedro Posts, Polls and Prompts

Pedge's Juke Box

Pedge Tweets!

Pedge's Bookshop

Pedge's Cinema

Use Somebody Song Fic

It's finally here! As per the amazing Song List by MK Frazier, y'all voted on Pedro's favorite selections and the results are in!

Triggers: Soft Dom dynamic, smut, toys, feather, edible wax, silk restraints, safe words, consent, M oral receiving, unprotected P/V in committed relationship, hair pulling, tummy kink, F is described as able bodied/long hair, exploration of intimacy...

I've been roaming around, always lookin' down at all I see Painted faces fill the places I can't reach You know that I could use somebody Someone like you and all you know and how you speak Countless lovers under cover of the street Off in the night, while you live it up, I'm off to sleep Wagin' wars to shape the poet and the beat I hope it's gonna make you notice Someone like me I'm ready now Someone like you…

You looked over at Pedge who was laughing uproariously, eyes alight, watching the television screen like a little kid. The corners of your mouth turned up in delight, but truthfully, you weren’t watching the tv at all. It’s true, Pedge was enough to distract anyone from the allure of the cinema, but you had been particularly silent all evening, twiddling your thumbs with a grandiose plan. You bit your lip in anticipation as the commercials began to scroll and Pedge muted the tv.

“That wasn’t even scripted. It was totally improvised, I mean if you can believe everything you read on the internet…” he reached over to massage your upper thigh as you jumped about a foot.

His eyebrows shot up in surprise as he halted his ill-timed massage. “You know, you’ve been really quiet all night, did you want to watch something else?” he ventured, shutting off the tv.

Your response became even more tight lipped as your eyes widened to saucer shape, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

“Babe, did I miss something? Everything okay at work?” Pedge started to spiral slightly, unsure of the tone of your upcoming conversation.

“I’m a little…embarrassed…” you began “…or…excited…Maybe both? I’m not quite sure what I’m feeling…”.

Pedge held his breath hesitantly; imagination running wild.

“I’m a little unsure of my next therapeutic request…for our…sexy time adventures…”. This wasn’t coming out the way you had rehearsed in your mind. So much for the art of seduction.

Pedge breathed a small sigh of relief, moving his hand back up your thigh reassuringly, “There’s nothing you can suggest I’m not open to” he smiled. “I mean, I can’t promise to LIKE everything, but I’m a pretty open minded guy. Lemme have it.” He placed his hands in his lap, obediently, waiting for your next move.

“The Dom/Sub dynamic…”

“YES!” he pumped his fist theatrically, eliciting small giggles from you immediately at his enthusiasm. His face resumed an overtly somber expression. “Go on.” You started to breathe normally again, delighted with his expected response, but relaxing your shoulders as he began to massage your feet.

“The Dom/Sub dynamic has caught my attention once again…”

“Babe, let me stop you right there. In anticipation of your request I’ve ordered a few…accoutrements for our sexy time adventures, but I wasn’t sure if you’d be interested…” he began.

Your mouth fell open in surprise, eyes squinting with incredulity. “I’m sorry, have you been developing your powers of telepathy?” you laughed, crawling onto his lap in a smooth motion and placing your hands on either side of his patchy beard.

“That’s correct. I can tell you’ve been doing the same, since you divined my pursuits” he joked, layering his hands over yours and kissing you lightly on the mouth. “Is this what you’ve been thinking about all evening?”

“Yeaaaaaah….” you pouted “but it’s a bit more complicated, as usual…” you continued. “Everything I was reading about never made any sense. I mean, not for me and my desires. There was all this stuff about humiliation, and degradation…and whips and shackles…”

“WHIPS AND SHACKLES?” his eyes lit up even more than before, grinning broadly from ear to ear and digging his fingers into your waist aggressively.

“Hold up there, mister!” you laughed, squirming underneath his touch “As fun as that sounds I might have to work up to it” you admitted. “I’m a soft Dom”.

Pedge halted for a second, aligning himself with what you just said and swallowing loudly. “A soft dom” he phrased it not as a question, but as a statement, opening himself up to the possibility.

“The softest” you whispered, sucking on his neck with feather light kisses. You felt his body shudder underneath you slightly as you blew a light breath over the wet marks your lips had left. “I’m actually a little concerned for your safety” you teased, somewhat jokingly, but with caution.

“I can be soft” he intoned, chest rumbling with depth.

“You’re not gonna be soft…” you reached down to start massaging his length gently “you’re gonna be hard” you began, feeling him melt underneath you and twitch with anticipation.

“When do we start?”

Pedge may have purchased a few items of interest, but you had been planning this possibility for a month. You set up a small table of toys at the side of the bed, as Pedge lay excitedly, waiting for instruction, and thumbing through the bondage cards in his lap.

“Are you ready for me?” you called from the bathroom, prepping yourself with nervousness.

“Honey, after that monologue you gave me in the living room, I don’t even know what to be ready for…” he admitted “I guess I’m….ready for anything!” his voice cracked slightly trying to find a mix of confidence and vulnerability.

“Okayeeee, ready or not, here I come!” you taunted, emerging from the bathroom in the pinkest of negligees you had ever purchased. Your breasts were on full voluptuous display, and the pink lace parted at your crotch for easy access. Pedge’s mouth dropped open, voraciously drinking you in, as the cards sloppily fell to the ground.

“Oops!” you giggled, dropping to your knees and sweeping up the cards for later games, and placing them back on the table.

“What do I do first?” he whispered, unsure of where to put his hands.

“Well, this is all about consent. You’re gonna give me an enthusiastic yes for everything before we do it” you drawled, watching his head nod in agreement. “It’s not a game, this is very real” you assured him, slowly picking up the large pink feather from the bedside table.

“What’re you gonna do with that?” he grinned brightly, rubbing his feet together with excitement.

“Just relax, sir. If I tell you everything that’s going to happen tonight, you’re not going to be surprised. Close your eyes for me”. Pedge snapped his eyes shut quickly, palms up on the bed, waiting for…something. You smiled to yourself, twirling the large feather in your hand. Oh this was gonna be fun. And nobody was gonna get hurt in the process. You were gonna take this man’s soul apart, and put him back together again.

You saw Pedge trying to steady himself, breathing deeply. One minute went by. Two minutes. You looked over at the table of toys in amazement. Silk restraints, a pink paddle…your eyes widened at the…spreader bar? You bit your lip with anticipation, moving to the side of the bed stealthily, feeling a powerful throbbing sensation between your legs, slightly intoxicated with the soft power flowing through your veins. When you finally dangled the feather above his belly button he jumped with sensitivity, hissing in surprise.

“Sorry babe, this is kind of uncharted territory” he apologized, opening one eye to find you gazing down at him intently.

“Was that a little too soft?” you questioned licking your lips hungrily, drawing the feather up and down his torso and between his legs.

“Don’t know” he laughed with some embarrassment. “I’m not used to being this…uh…pliant. But I’m all about the YES!” Pedge shifted innocently, balling his fists tightly alongside him on the bed. “Relax” you whispered into his ear, watching him melt into the mattress as you dragged the feather over his face seductively. Ghosting your lips over his face, his jaw, and his neck. Watching his chest rise and fall quickly, unsure of which sensation to anticipate next.

“It’sall pretty new” he sighed, relaxing his fingers and wiggling slightly in an attempt to relieve the tension. You smiled with acknowledgement, reaching over for a new toy. 

“I can see that” you observed, relishing his online selection with inquisitiveness and lighting a candle to prep.

He cleared his throat with momentary discomfort, “Yeah, we can indulge our inner arsonist…as long as we don’t accidentally light the apartment on fire” he laughed, jaw immediately slackening as you dangled the candle precariously over his soft stomach. He tried to stifle a loud gulp as you tentatively dipped your pinky in, to check the temperature. “It’s a little hot” you warned, bringing your finger into your mouth and sucking the wax.

Pedge bobbed his head enthusiastically, all words momentarily flung out of his mind.

“Strawberry! How’d you know?” you twinkled, dragging your tongue across your teeth like a Cheshire Cat, beaming at his proud response. Dipping into the melted wax you plunged your coated finger into his belly button eliciting a soft hum as he twitched underneath contentedly. 

“More” he whispered, “please”, attempting to calm the shake in his voice.

You felt the corners of your mouth tug upward as you began to drip a messy, snaking line of edible wax across the plane of his stomach. Now salivating as his skin glistened and puckered, you heard him hiss beneath you, writhing with the tickling sensation. Carefully setting the candle back, you crawled up and straddled his hips drawing a long, strong swipe of your tongue from navel to sternum, never breaking eye contact to see his response. His eyes darkened, white knuckling the sheets with intensity.

“That tickles” he rasped.

“I thought it might” you managed to get out before sucking at his nipples and nibbling down his torso. It was a pretty messy venture, licking and biting to catch all the waxy remnants. His hands gently gripped your head, massaging his fingers through your scalp.

“Is this okay? Can I touch you?” his voice had a gravelly edge to it, as you sucked into his navel.

“Absolutely” you mumbled into his belly button, relishing the strawberry snack. Finally reaching his happy trail you inhaled deeply, moving the tip of your nose in a broad circle, soaking in the musky aroma of his arousal and moaning with approval. Pausing to breathe and resting your chin just above his stomach you noticed his forehead wrinkling in concentration. You reached up to draw your fingers across his eyebrows. “Look at me for a second…”, you coo’d watching his eyes fly open confusedly.

“Am I doing it wrong?” he blurted out with concern.

Reaching up to circle your fingers around his nipples and pinching playfully. “No such thing, my honey” you dripped, feeling pools of desire between your legs, magnetically drawn to the steady heat of his body. You dragged your hands broadly down his sticky, wax coated chest.

“I don’t know any ‘supposed to’s’ really. I just like the way you feel. I wanna make sure you like the way you feel…” you explained, drawing your fingers down his sides and back up, watching the goosebumps splay across his honeyed skin. “Did you know that you have all the power right now?”

“I do?” he sparkled, completely mesmerized by the soft, open creature atop him.

“Yeahhhh…” you sighed, reaching over for the silk restraints and drawing them between your fingers seductively. His eyes glazed over as you drew his wrists together in front of his body, placing them over his stomach.  “But sometimes you don’t want that…” you started to wrap the silken fabric loosely around his wrists, kissing his fingers and biting at them softly.

“I don’t” he uttered somewhere between a question and an answer, completely lost in this new activity and your hypnotic stare. You leaned forward, vibrating into the soft suckle of his mouth as he exhaled beneath you.

“Oh yes” you breathed. “You can already feel yourself losing control just a little…”

“I can” his eyelids fluttered shut as he absentmindedly bucked his hips slightly with anticipation. 

“Tell me how your body feels” you questioned, gently sucking on his earlobe.

He swallowed dryly, keeping his eyes closed with determination. “I’m feeling…floaty…a little nervousssss…” he inhaled quickly with surprise.

You had reached behind you to hold his length in the palm of your hand, feathering your fingertips down the shaft and arriving at the tip which was dripping precum. He mewled happily as you slid your body down his torso, grabbing at his chest and nuzzling your face back into his manhood. Hovering over his stiffening member you decided to kitten lick the head, swirling the fleshy underside of your tongue around the tip and enjoying the salty taste.

“That’s okay, because you’re going to feel softer and softer and softer…” you VERY carefully grazed your teeth over his plumping length “as you get harder and harder and harder”. A whisper of a moan flew from his lips as he desperately tried to stay still.

Keeping your eyes trained on him you gently suckled at the tip, bobbing your head lightly and fluttering your tongue in butterfly like movements.

“Oh gawwwwd” he broke the silence, nearly startling you with the force of his voice “Fuuuuuck…” he whimpered, a nearly pained expression crossing his face. “It’s….uhgn…so….OH…soooooo….” you reached up to massage the underside of his quads and buttocks. Sucking and massaging and swirling and pinching.

Pedge started babbling incoherently, his sentences occasionally laced with words, “Baby it’s….OH GOD…I can’t quite….OH GOD…if I just….OH GOD…”. You could see a film of sweat start to coat his forehead, shining in the candle’s flickering light, as he bit his lower lip, nearly drawing blood.

Your eyes grew wide with intensity, trying to read his body and the many sensations. You felt that quintessential tightening in his lower body and a light tremor, but truthfully, something seemed a little off. You slowed your approach, watching his face relax with relief, and pull your lips down his member with a satisfying pop.

“Honey? Talk to me, do I need to go slower…” you asked with concern.

He seemed at a loss for words, eyes glazed over with an unreadable emotion.

“So much” he was breathing heavily, collapsed back on the bed, voice nearly cracking with effort. You quickly reached up and undid the restraints. 

“Do we need to stop?” you tried to hide the urgency in your voice, but your worst fears were starting to materialize in your imagination. You tenderly massaged his wrists and kissed the inner palm of his hand cautiously. “Why didn’t you use your safe word? Did you forget?” your heart started fidgeting wildly in your chest. Pedge caught his breath and gathered his surroundings again, taking you in with the tender gaze of his brown eyes.

“Honey” he started, tearing up ever so slightly. “Is this what it’s like for you?” he ventured, rubbing his eyes with emotion and trying to pull himself back together.

“What do you mean?” you asked in a hushed tone, wildly concerned you had overstepped.

“So beautiful” he reached up and cupped your face with one hand. “So beautiful” he repeated, as you closed your eyes and hummed contentedly. “I can’t…” he dropped his hands with exasperation. “I started floating away” he laughed tiredly, falling back on the bed with incredulity. “It was like…I couldn’t say no” he covered his face with his hands in embarrassment.

Your cheeks reddened with pride, pulling his hands lightly away from his face. “We can stop if it’s too much” you drew your finger across his bottom lip. “Are you having a hard time letting go?”

He nodded. “I just wasn’t ready for how soft everything was…I’ve never felt…like that…Like…I was you. Or, something weird. Like…my body…wasn’t here…or….it was everywhere….Jesus, what candle did I buy???” he started laughing with abandon.

You smiled, giggling with relief, “Should we stop now?” you thumbed his chin playfully, waiting for further instructions.

“Gawd no!” he whined, lifting you underneath your elbows and biting at your neck. “That was fucking amazing! I just need another chance…I’m the YES man!” he seemed to get a second wind, determined to demonstrate his willingness.

Your entire countenance collapsed with relief, hugging him tightly and passionately kissing him till you were both out of breath.

“Okay, take two” you smiled. “Now we know what we’re doing, that was just the sexy time rehearsal” you smirked, starting to move your hips in a circular motion over his stomach. Pedge took a deep breath, grazing his hands over your breasts and massaging lightly.

“Understood” he swallowed.

“And you remember your safe word?”

You started sucking lightly at his neck.

“YES!”

“And you’re going to use it if you feel yourself going somewhere you don’t like?”

You kissed down his sternum and swirled your tongue across his mid-drift.

“Oh yes….” he whimpered, begin to harden again underneath you.

“Because you want to let go for me…You’re such a good boy, aren’t you?”

You looked up to see him wordlessly mouth “yes” as you massaged his length up and down

You eased down to notch the tip of him at your dripping entrance as he brought his hands under the orbs of your ass, in a basket hold. Slowly, so very slowly, you lowered yourself onto him, taking in every delightful inch, sheathing yourself around his member. Dropping your head forward, your hair cascaded around you both in messy ringlets, pressing your hands into his chest for support. A low groan rumbled through his sternum as you both took a moment to enjoy the connection of your joined bodies, breathing in tandem and moving to intertwine your fingers through his locks of hair.

“You’re minnnnne….” you growled enticingly, eyes lustfully at half mast, drawing your fingers harshly across his scalp and pulling the hair taut. “Do you want that? Do you want to be mine?”.

“Minnnne, ohhhh, yes…soooo…much…yourssss….” he repeated as you circled your hips in a languid pattern.

“And you’re going to let me use you” you moaned, gaining intensity and moving your hands lightly to the sides of his neck, as he drew his knees up under your body for leverage.

“Uuu—-uuuu—-uuse me” he started to intone, beginning to unravel underneath your body.

“And you can just let…” you gasped slightly, feeling him twitch inside you “you can just let go, because I’ve got you. I’ve got you…I’ve got you…” you started whispering on repeat, overwhelmed by the intimacy of the moment and floating into your own euphoria.

You felt P’s hips stutter and begin to shake with abandon, gripping the base of his neck as the pleasure intensified beyond belief. A white hot, searing light began to radiate through your core, rushing upwards and sideways and engulfing your body in flames of desire. Completely overwhelming, completely overpowering. You heard your voice release in ecstasy, outside of your own body, aglow with sensation.

In a haze of weightlessness and timelessness you felt P pulse underneath you as you fluttered around him. Strong arms gripped you around your torso as he came hard with ribbon after ribbon of heat, pouring into you and through you and dripping out of you. Melting into each other’s bodies you fell sideways in an embrace, intertwined in delight. Breathing heavily, you floated between disembodiment and pure clarity, feeling his length housed securely in your sex, still throbbing around him.

Being still. Coming back into your own body, feeling your breath expand outward, piecing your soul back together, your eyelids fluttered open to regain a sense of reality. 

And there he was. Eyes closed in rapture, smiling contentedly, lips parted peacefully. 

Yours. 

You kissed him lightly on the mouth, and as though breathing life into him, his eyes opened, reflecting dark pools of tranquility. You lay, nose to nose, breathing one another in and out for what seemed like an eternity, afraid to break the moment.

A single tear slid down your cheek as he reached up to wipe it away.

“Yes” he said. “A thousand times, yes”.

Pedro Scouts Glamping

A big thank you to @pedroscouts for this fun summer time activity! I ran into Pedge and he gently mentioned that my solo tent was a bit messy. He suggested some after care and a light massage because I was such a hot mess, so I've organized myself a bit more.

Ranks/Pledge I Pledge to Pedge Song Fic Use SomebodyPedge's Favorites Fan Art Papi Pascal Personal ArtJoel Miller @norththelemon Ellie and Joel @pebblume Din and Grogu @lupinsuniverse Game of Thrones Era @craftingwithamyc Esquire Magazine @saminadorazahi Beldro Ramscal Marcus Moreno We Can Be Heroes @firsttarotreader Cockwarming @flightlessangelwings Coffee Shop Coffee Shop Date @mermaidgirl30 Routine @endlessthxxghts Dieter Salt, Shot, Lime @freelancearsonist Enemies to Lovers Enjoy the Silence @strang3lov3 Whiskey Daniels How Much Does Devotion Weigh? @anabdaniels Ezra How to Write for Ezra @morallyinept Helianthus Fan Art @millersblud Sex Pollen Scarlet Haze @katiexpunk Only One Bed Killing Me Softly Series @alltheirdamn Frankie Morales Do You Feel It Too? @burntheedges Fluff + Smut Is Joel Okay? @djarinmuse Hurt/Comfort I Know Who You Are Series @punkshortChronicSweet DreamsNothing Hits Quite Like That First Kiss @backtothefanfictionYou're My Stranger In the Dark @lady-of-glass-and-bone Slow Burn Pike's Place Joel Miller Somewhere to Run @punkshortJust Ralphy @ameerawrites

Now, if you'll excuse me, it's very important that I continue earning badges. Pedge assures me that the reward of personal hard work is quite fulfilling and I'm not just talking about scout cookies. Happy summer activities!

Rocky Road

Here we are with attempt Number Two, a therapeutic exploration of what healthy, angry s@x might look like in a playful, safe atmosphere. Pedge's Cuddle Couch is ALL RPF

Triggers: 18+, fluffy so fluffy to start, profanity, unprotected P in V (committed relationship), lite S/M, fainting, slapping, hair pulling, food reference

The frying pan dropped into the sink with a fantastic clatter as soap suds and utensils sputtered beneath it. “G@ddammit!” you muttered, literally throwing in the towel.

“Honey I’m home!” Pedge’s voice jokingly drifted in from the entryway, as you smoothed out your hair and clothes, in an attempt to disguise the obvious steam rising from your head.

“What’s up????” you squeaked, with an overt smile plastered on your face.

Pedge appeared in the doorway, and froze mid-stride with two grocery bags poised in the air. “What’s wrong?” he asked. You cinematically collapsed onto the floor in mock dramatics, as his smirk dangled above you, now upside down. “Everything is impossible. Students are driving me nuts, the parents are even worse. I feel like acid is dripping into my stomach and I’m jittering like a f@cking espresso!….F@ck!”

Pedro gingerly joined you on the tiled floor, wincing slightly at the crackle in his knees. “Okay with my boundless male intuition, I’m picking up on some distress here.” A begrudging smile appeared at the corners of your mouth. “Don’t try to lighten my mood, pendejo. I’m mad and I’m determined to stay mad.” He joined your histrionics with a theatrical pout. “Bath?” he quipped. “Wine? Ice cream? I got the good stuff.” You heaved a heavy sigh, inching your body closer to his. You felt like you were going to crawl out of your skin. So tired of being regulated and buttoned up in an emotional straight-jacket. You wished you could take all of this power and rage and channel it.

“What if we tried something…different?”

P’s eyebrows shot up straight to his forehead, “What, like Thai Food?”

“I’m thinking spicier…” you growled, not so gently grabbing the denim bulge in front of you.

Pedge nearly doubled over on top of you “Ay, ay…” he giggled. “What are you up to, mija? You want me to relax you?” That sounded nice, to be sure, but you had always been curious about ALL your capabilities. Scaring yourself with how small your voice became when you whispered, “Let me Dom you.”

It was like all the air went out of the room, and Pedro’s eyes turned a dark black. “Fuuuuck” he sighed stickily. You started to shrink down into yourself with embarrassment, until he planted his palm across your stomach lowering his voice about an octave, “I’m game if you are.”

How the hell did you get yourself into this predicament? All of your fancy ideas, and here you were, pacing around your bedroom in a black negligee, high heels and a silk scarf, while Pedge sat dopily grinning from the bed.

“Babe, we don’t have to do anything you don’t want. I think in our haste I left the ice cream on the kitchen floor. We can just grab two spoons and call it a day…”. Something about his innocent tone focused your resolve, as you took a deep breath and lunged on top of the bed, now towering over him, heels and all. His mouth dropped open and he apparently stopped breathing as his eyes fixed on yours. “I’m gonna need you to stop talking now” you flatlined, watching his Adam’s apple bob in his throat hungrily. “Do you remember your safe word, honey?” 

“Rocky Road” he licked his lips feverishly, nodding a little too enthusiastically. You smiled quietly, not entirely sure how to proceed, but cock confident in your approach. Making this up as we go along, you thought, moving to straddle his torso and gently lowering your heat on his stomach. He was breathing hard and holding your quads as you grabbed his jaw and dragged your thumb across his lower lip. “Lots of sound; no words” you threatened quietly.

A whimper caught in his throat, as you stuck your thumb in his mouth. This wasn’t going to be the smoothest operation, since you couldn’t decide what to do first, dragging the scarf across his neck. That seemed a bit too dangerous so you stuffed part of it in his mouth, as his eyes widened to the shape of saucers.

“More sound please” you growled.

Humming into the scarf, his eyelids fluttered shut. So far, so good, you mused, moving both your palms lightly to the sides of his neck and holding with light pressure. Pedge started groaning beneath you and wriggling his hips expectantly. Right. Without realizing it, you had absentmindedly been grinding yourself across his pubic hair which now glistened with your slick. You felt his length bump against your ass, and without thinking you took the palm of your hand and slapped the side of his face.

“Oh gawd!” you gasped in horror drawing your hands up to your mouth and immediately stopping all of your gyrations. 

“Whthpnd?” he comically mumbled into the scarf, as his eyes shot open in confusion, spitting it to the side. “Are you okay?” he grabbed you by the elbows, lifting you up, a look of concern shadowing his features. You had buried your head in your hands, somewhere between crying and laughing, appalled at where your instincts had taken you. “That…wasn’t…I didn’t plan that…” you managed to eek out.

His body relaxed a bit, moving his hands to rub your back, “I mean…I kind of blacked out there for a second, but you’re not getting any complaints from me…” he smiled. Your body started to relax as well, a single tear dropping onto his forearm.

“You’re not gonna hurt me, pobrecita” he chided, reaching up with his thumb to wipe another tear away. “This is a very empathic Domme”…Your sniffle collapsed into a giggle as your hips resumed their circular movements. “Believe me, I know how to take directionnnnnnn…” he moaned as you started sliding down his length along your folds.

“Holy hell” he sighed.

“No words” you repeated, regaining a bit of confidence and notching his tip at your entrance.

He groaned placatingly as his eyes closed shut again. Digging his hands into your waist and hips, your heat swallowed him in one envelopment as he lunged forward in surprise.

“Shhh…” you taunted, covering his mouth with your hand, as both of your movements started to sync up. You were thinking less and less, dragging his hands above his head and fucking him relentlessly into the headboard. You could feel him, like an iron rod inside you, as the pressure began to build, your desire white hot and direct. 

Now wrapping his hands behind his back in a tight prison you grinded down on his hips, collapsing into his shoulder and biting it. As you sunk your teeth in a bit and started to suckle, his entire body began to quiver with you atop it.

“Ohhhhh…” he mewled, his hips starting to falter and stutter in confusion.

“Tell me I’m in charge” you reached up and grabbed the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling hard.

“Yes ma’ammmmm…” his throat exposed to the ceiling, now covered in salty sweat. Starting at the divot in his sternum you licked a slow line up to the stubble on his chin.

“Tell me what’s mine.”

“Yes m..ma’am, yes m…ma’ammmmm…” you’d never heard him so delirious and wrecked before, but you were fairly certain you were starting to unravel a little yourself. 

“Look at me when I talk to you”, you held the weight of his head in both hands, fisting his hair on either side. He was blinking quickly and trying to acquiesce, but his eyes kept fluttering shut and rolling back in his head. This was maybe the hottest thing you’d ever done, but you were also having a hard time focusing, as you milked and pulsed around him.

“Can…I…cum…need…cum…please…cummmm…” he sounded absolutely undone with you bouncing on his cock, breasts nearly in his face. You dug your thumb into his jawline, turning his head to the side, marveling at the pulsing vein beneath. 

“Cum. Now.” you growled, sucking hard on his earlobe and clamping down with your thighs as hard as you could muster.

“Ohhhhhhhh!” he spilled forward violently, grabbing you around the waist, nearly knocking the breath out of you with the force of his orgasm. Damn, you had forgotten how strong he was, even at his most vulnerable. That was gonna bruise tomorrow. You started to see stars, tilting back with euphoria into his grasp as the entire room seemed to flip sideways in a hazy echo.

Seemingly from another universe, Pedge’s voice began to drift into your consciousness with a slight ringing sound…

“My love, my love. You’re starting to scare me a little, please come back.” Your mouth was fuzzy and your eyes refused to open on their own accord. I’m tired, you thought stretching your arms lazily above you, and nearly passing out again with the effort. A small sigh escaped your mouth as you floated back into your self, realizing Pedge was caressing your face, and was laying on top of you, poised with concern.

“Oh my gawd, did I f@ck you into oblivion? Come back mija, whenever you’re ready, come back…” A small tickle in your chest bloomed into a smile as you shuddered with pleasure. “Mmmm…” you managed to hum, slipping in and out of consciousness and thoroughly pleased with your first attempt. You were vaguely aware of peppered kisses finding their way across your stomach and mouth and chest. It was quite some time before you coalesced back into existence and found those big chocolate eyes transfixed on your face.

“Are you alive?” he pleaded, sounding a little more concerned than was warranted, considering the earth shattering experience you just orchestrated. “Plenty” you slurred, cock drunk and completely forgetful of the day’s events as well as your name.

“Ay Dios mio” he laughed, burying his head in your chest and dragging his lips up to your mouth. “I have never…” he started.

You began giggling uncontrollably, looking down at your high-heeled laden feet sticking out from beneath him. How did those manage to stay on? you pondered, having long since lost the scarf and any semblance of dignity. “Rocky Road” he mumbled. Your eyes snapped open blearily, trying to focus on his face. You lifted yourself up on your elbows, “What, baby? What’s wrong?"

“No, I’m sorry, Rocky Road. I left the Rocky Road on the kitchen floor, it’s probably melted into a puddle by now.” he laughed. Well, so have I, you smirked, collapsing back underneath him with contentment. “For our next act, Pedro Pascal will drizzle ice cream into his girl friend's belly button and suck out every drop to thunderous applause…” you intoxicatingly rambled, feeling your bodies titter together in laughter.

“Yes ma’am” he grinned, tucking a hair behind your ear and burying his mouth to yours in a deep, languid kiss. “You are just full of surprises”.