Pedro-Tober #5

Pedge's Bookshop Series Masterlist

Foyer: There are already so many great AU fics featuring all our favorite Pedro Boys and I'd like to showcase them! In the Coffee Shop Foyer you'll find some great rec's for coffee and books alike. Bring your library card--this if one of my favorite tropes!

Bookshop: We started this series with Joel as our bookshop owner. Reading several of Pedro Pascal's book recommendations, the bookshop continues to get more material; join in on the fun!

Crime and Punishment (with Joel Miller)

Crime and Punishment; Prologue Crime and Punishment; The Murder Crime and Punishment; The Family Crime and Punishment; The Argument Crime and Punishment; The Lecture Crime and Punishment; The Visitor Crime and Punishment; The Dinner Crime and Punishment; The Calm Crime and Punishments; Before Crime and Punishment; The Storm Crime and Punishment; The Patrol Crime and Punishment; The Wound Crime and Punishment; The Confession Crime and Punishment; The Epilogue

Novellas:

Crime and Punishment Fic-Let Crime and Punishment; The Dream Crime and Punishment; The Talk Bookstore IG

What Happened to Belen? (with Javier Pena)

Part One Part Two

In Cold Blood (with Tim Rockford)

In Cold Blood: The Exposition In Cold Blood; The Road Trip In Cold Blood; The Funeral

WIP Book Nook: There are so many amazing rec's from Pedro that I'd love to unpack! Here are some possibilities on the horizon. What fics do you want to see?

The Urge; Our History of Addiction w/ Dieter Bravo Franny and Zooey w/ Mr. Ben The Gender of Sound w/ Pedge Drive Your Plow...w/ Tim Rockford

Audible Original; The Reservoir

Ghost Radio

What Happened to Belen?

Thank you to @auteurdelabre for our beautiful coloring book! I so enjoyed reading Pedro Pascal's book recommendation "What Happened to Belen?" and found it particularly insightful. For those of us Joel girls in mourning I wrote a pivot fiction for Pena you might check out at Pedge's Bookshop! Pair it with Pena's Playlist for the full Narcos experience :)

“Two days from now will be the first anniversary of the date I effectively regained my freedom. How will I ever forget the day I set foot on the street again, with my angels! How will I ever forget how much they helped me! How will I ever forget all the women who spent hours waiting to welcome me outside! How will I forget my fellow inmates, police guards and the night we said goodbye! How will I ever forget my family, who was anxiously waiting for me! How will I ever forget that day! Everyone awaited my return after two and half years of unjust imprisonment. How will I ever forget that was the day…I WAS REBORN! How will I ever forget the day one of my angels put a pencil to paper and wrote down the words I couldn’t speak! A year after my release I can only give thanks to God and my angels. Who is it that said we don’t have angels? I can testify today that they exist. How will I ever forget that amidst all the anxiety and distress my angels were there with me, holding my hand and listening. I am eternally grateful. Thank you! Thanks to every woman and every organization, to the women’s movements and to all the people who did their part to help me, who put on their “Freedom For Belen” T-shirts and went into the street to fight for my freedom.”

"What Happened to Belen" is written by Ana Elena Correa

@littlemisspascal  @lizette50 @beefrobeefcal @sawymredfox @anelva @wordywarriorwrites @burntheedges @inept-the-magnificent @timelordfreya  @schnarfer @devineconjuring @mermaidgirl30 @galaxyedging @joelalorian @joelmillerisapunk @jennaispunk @sheepdogchick3 @marcus-is-my-muse @guiltyasdave  @copperhalfcent @bluesweaters15 @drewharrisonwriter @darkheartgatita @harriedandharassed @brittmb115 @confusedpuffin @yorksgirl @quicax3 @shaunasflannel @shinyanchorobject

Pedge's Cinema; All About Eve

Thank you to @auteurdelabre for our beautiful coloring book! I have been doubly inspired, writing the sequel for Pedge's Cinema; All About Eve. It was fun to take this coloring page and overlay it on some of Pedro's favorite movie posters. There are several more installments on the horizon, I hope you will enjoy!

Series Masterlist

Pedro Stories Secret Santa!

I'm gonna be totally honest. Nothing went according to plan. Chronic illness flare-up, missed Christmas Eve performance, late upload, and bungled festivities with the parentals. But in an odd turn of events this artistic project was the healing balm. Happy Holidays to @savedyounine. Even if things haven't gone as planned, you've got me, Grogu and Din Djarin rootin' for ya!

Unmasked @pedges-world Just Feels Right @ghostofskywalker

The Pensive In the autumn gardens under virgin palm trees, I watched mute and dodge pass the Pensive. I saw them in morning blue, with his gaze so far away; That in the mystery was lost in the blurred sky. I saw him in rosy railings where he wore his brials; And his beautiful evening face. It was a sorrow in the haze… Then walked silently in the candid gloom; And a sad pride lit them up. What would you think? Oh the pearly countenance with innocence and sin! Oh, their wandering glances of the fading plains! He was bewitching beauty; it was the pain that never cries; Without virtue and irony. What would it feel like? In the serene dawn, I saw him come back sad, Heading to the west, mute, dodge, The Pensive! by Jose Maria Eguren

*having taken FANTASTIC liberties with the translated Mando'a (background)

*thanks @thecutestgrotto for the cool dividers + @pedrostories for the prompt!

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

Thanksgiving Delights

This is part of our Pedro's Holiday Feast Celebration! Join us for a final Family Dinner this Sunday and stay tuned for the Thanksgiving Day Reveal of "Pike's Place; Love Actually"!

Triggers: I wanted to explore the praise kink for Thanksgiving, midst a Moreno marriage, post tryptophane haze. Smut, praise kink, marital bliss, hiding from the kiddos, oral f receiving, P in V committed relationship, profanity...food? I think that covers it...May we all continue to be grateful...

Closing your eyes in exhaustion you sank down on the mattress of the master bedroom, dangling your feet over the edge. Thank God. Thanksgiving was DONE. You sighed with relief, hearing the echoing shouts of your small family, starting the annual video game marathon tradition and allowing you a small respite.

You smiled with acknowledgement, assured that Marcus would have already put away the leftovers and begun the unenviable task of dishwashing, as you had doubled down on the Thanksgiving festivities. There was turkey, mashed potatoes, gravy, green beans, cranberry sauce, a charcuterie board, apple cider, date nut bread…and a cooling pumpkin pie as an encore. But, rubbing your sore muscles you had to acquiesce, the preparations were getting harder. You loved providing for your small family, and had no extenuating responsibilities, but your mid-life awakening came with an additional set of aches and pains.

Your eyes were still closed, but you heard the familiar baritone of your loving husband echoing down the hallway, “Everybody start without me, your mom and I need a nap….and don’t eat that pumpkin pie till you clear level five, AT LEAST!” he shouted good naturedly, nosing his way into the bedroom you had shared for more than ten years. “Any casualties of war?” he softly intoned, closing the door gently. If your eyes had been opened you might have noticed him surreptitiously locking it, but currently you were floating in a fatigue fueled haze of drowsiness.

“Hmmm…?” you muttered, hopeful that a cuddle session was about to ensue…or at least that the dishes were already done. The mattress dipped under his weight, as he collapsed next to you, his feet nudging yours.

“I’m fullllll” he groaned, resting a hand on your thigh languidly as you rubbed at your eyes tiredly.

“It was good, right?” you knowingly smirked, turning your head to the side and finding him already staring at you. You gazed into his eyes that were crinkling with joy and tryptophane, drawing a finger across his forehead and admiring the wrinkles that had developed over the last several years. If you squinted (as you often needed to now, in your 40’s) you could see a hint of the salt and pepper dotting his beard and fringes of hair. What a fox. How had you gotten so lucky?

“Honey, you outdid yourself this year” he stifled a yawn, moving his hand up your thigh and resting it on your softened tummy, which gurgled in response. You giggled, surprised, curling up into a ball and turning your body towards his.

“What did you like best?” you sparkled, noticing the small hole in the armpit of his gray shirt. You made a mental note to purchase some new undershirts at your next store run.

“I like the chef the best” he teased, his scruffy beard scratching at the crook of your neck as you hummed contentedly.

“Happy Thanksgiving” you whispered, expecting to drift into a happy nap before joining the kiddos in their evening games.

“You know…” Marcus began, interrupting your reverie, “I’ve been feeling particularly….thankful for my wife this holiday season…”. Your eyes flew open in curiosity.

“Oh honey, I’m so grateful for everything you do for me and the kids…and well, everyone. That’s one of the many reasons why I married you…” you drifted off a bit, returning to your sleepy, disjointed mindset.

Marcus cleared his throat tentatively, slowly moving his hand across your midriff and cupping your backside with one hand. Your eyebrows crinkled, unexpectedly aroused, but still tired and now moving your own hand in lazy circles across his back.

“I was…kind of hoping we had time for…dessert…” he sounded a bit bashful with his request, as you responded, “You can’t possible want that pumpkin pie NOW…” you joked, eyes still closed. Marcus swallowed so loudly, you finally understood his intention, cocking one eyebrow quizzically.

“Honeyyyyyy…” you moaned, “I’ve been up since 6am, I’m not sure I have a shred of energy left…even for THAT” you jested, poking him in the stomach with one finger.

“What if…I did all the work?” his eyes were a sea of warmth and love, and you felt yourself getting lost in the magnetism of his pining.

“Is this gonna involve whipped cream, because I’m pretty sure I forgot that on my grocery list this year” you smiled.

“Only if you want it to” he sank down to his knees on the carpet, tugging lightly at the sweat pants you were wearing.

“Baby, you can’t be serious” you sat up on your forearms looking at his puppy dog face that was now resting on your knee, and pouting adorably. “How are you still hungry?”

He shrugged boyishly, a wide grin spreading across his face and tapping at your hips excitedly. You heaved a sigh of happy resignation as he shimmied your sweatpants off seductively, his eyes glistening a deeper shade of black. “Did you lock the door Casanova?” you questioned, enjoying the glazed look sinking into his countenance as he peppered kisses across your knees and up your thighs.

“This isn’t my first rodeo, sweet pea” he mumbled into your upper thigh as your knees unexpectedly clamped around his head.

His hands shot up in the air placatingly, “I surrender!” he muttered, practically encased in your womanhood, as you released your grip immediately.

“Oh my God, we’ve been so busy lately, and the holidays…she’s not…She’s not…manicured. Just come up here and make out with me already. You don’t even have to brush your teeth…” you attempted to deflect, but your husband wasn’t easily dissuaded.

“Don’t care about that” he moaned into your clothed pussy, a thin layer of lace acting as the only barrier between his desires and you.

“Ohhhhh” a sinful moan escaped your lips as you fell back onto the bed. Good God. How long had it been? You were extremely happy in your marriage, but circumstances never really slowed down. Sometimes you worried you weren’t performing your marital duties enough, but Marcus never complained. It was often the last thing on your mind, but not in this moment. In this moment, Marcus was invading EVERY fatigued crack and recess of your mind and body. His tongue flattened and lapped against the material of your underwear creating a mind numbing electricity of friction.

You gasped heatedly, parting your legs for better access and gripping at his hair greedily. “Ohhhhh gawwwwwd” you sighed, every thought fluttering out of your head in relaxed euphoria, as Marcus paused in his ministrations.

You gulped with slight embarrassment, your eyes shooting over to the locked door and hearing your children yelping with excitement and frivolity. Your hand flew up over your head grabbing a pillow and stuffing it to your face. No going back now. This was going to be a Thanksgiving to remember. Marcus dove back in, his hands easily moving your underwear to one side and circling the pointed spear of his tongue around your clit, pulsing forward after every circumference. He was everywhere. He kept shifting directions and then flattening his tongue, licking a devastating stripe from the base of your fourchette up to the tip of your heat until you couldn’t think straight. You were writhing and moaning and began clawing at the pillow, biting into it to dull your sighs of pleasure, but Marcus knew your body like the back of his hand. You really had no chance whatsoever. A primal swirling sensation was whipping you into submission, already tired from the day’s festivities, you could have come on his tongue in a matter of minutes. But then he was pausing and breathing heavily, a welcome respite from the onslaught of passion, somehow leaving you simultaneously relieved and wanting.

“Is it time for the whipped cream?” you asked, a lazy smirk dotting your face, as you tried to get your bearings.

Marcus smiled, the glisten of your arousal coating his lips and beard like a sugar glaze as he hungrily crawled up your body, looking into your eyes.

“Want to see my girl” he rasped, wiping his face on your stomach and biting at your breasts over the comfy t-shirt you were wearing.

“Is that so?” you drawled, his hand cupping the back of your neck and holding the weight of your head against it.

“Want to show how thankful I am, to the mother of my children” he graveled, unzipping his jeans in one motion as you helped pull them down to his knees. “Can’t wait another second…” he pulled his length out, notching it at the tip of your entrance. A shock of electricity bolted through your body as you struggled to keep your hips level. “Want to give you everything you give me” he nearly croaked, sheathing himself in you slowly as your hand flew up to your mouth in restraint. At this rate, the neighbors were going to hear, if you couldn’t control….

“Made for me…pretty girl” he started to unravel, looking into your face and beginning to pump in and out rhythmically. You bit down on the top of your hand, now moving your hips in synchronicity with his.

“I love watching you come apart for me…all mine…just for me” he stated absentmindedly, watching your eyebrows furrow in concentration. “Good girl, good girl…” he repeated his mantra with every thrust, drawing you closer and closer to your release. Wow, wow, wow. Thank God for Thanksgiving. You searched for any thread of control you could find, now gripping at the sheets desperately, and finding none. Good girl. Good girl.

“You’re (I’m) close” you muttered nearly at the same time, your body pulsing and fluttering around him in ecstasy. He grabbed at your backside, drawing your hips up into him and moving faster.

“Are you going to cum for me, now? Are you my good girl?” he growled, your eyes shooting open with surprise. You were. You were going to come for him. The tendrils of your orgasm were already wrapping themselves around your abdomen, and bubbling to the surface. You couldn’t stop. You wouldn’t stop. You wanted more. More. More. More.

Your body lurched a couple times in agonizing climax as your eyes glazed over in enjoyment. Watching Marcus bite at his lower lip, a thin sheen of sweat dotting his forehead as you cascaded in one, two….THREE. The world exploded in a ball of light and love, your mouth falling open in a silent scream of pleasure. You tried to wriggle out of his steely grasp, but he pumped into you voraciously, not letting up. Blearily wondering how much more ecstasy you could take, you felt his hips stutter and still, as his own release filled you with warmth and contentment. After a few more moments of delight, he collapsed next to you, breathing heavily and wiping at his forehead. You whined happily, somehow satiated AND hungry, turning your body towards his.

“Wowwwwww, baby” you nuzzled into his side, nipping at his earlobe with your mouth, completely blissed out. “That was…wow” you couldn’t articulate anything, just happily buzzing next to your husband and hearing the echoing pandemonium of the living room drift back into your awareness.

“Happy Thanksgiving” he mumbled into your breastbone, a contented and sleepy expression dotting his face as you smiled back.

“Thaaaaaaank youuuuuu” you giggled, pulling his face to yours in a sloppy kiss and sighing into his mouth happily.

“Mmmmm….” he moaned, stroking your back with the tips of his fingers and relaxing against your body. You held each other contentedly for several minutes, flickering between consciousness and a hazy warmth. Finally opening your eyes in gratitude, you found him staring at you fixedly once again.

“This is the life I dreamed of” he whispered, his eyes glistening with tears, drawing a thumb to your mouth in supplication.

“Me too” you smiled softly, pecking gently at his lips and lying back on the bed.

“Time for seconds?” he grinned, placing a hand across your sternum and inching closer.

“Seconds? We haven’t even had the pumpkin pie yet!” you teased, latching a finger at the base of his hole-y undershirt.

“Wasn’t talking about pumpkin pie…” he laughed, burying his face in your stomach as you wrapped your legs around him tightly.

*thanks @bernardsbendystraws for the cool dividers!

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

All right, I think I need a little Tumblr assistance! I've run away with myself regarding Mood Boards but have a number of WIPS on the horizon. Maybe if I get a digital nudge it will push me in the right direction. I'm ALL over the place...

Check us out!

Roll-a-Trope Snowed In Challenge New York, New York Series (RPF)

Pike's Picture

A huge thank you to @auteurdelabre for our beautiful coloring book :) Pedge and I can be so grumpy sometimes. I had a GREAT day, but still find myself in an Eeyore state. But Pike is my guy, I KNOW he gets it.

Had a blast over the winter on @burntheedges "Roll-a-Trope" challenge "Pike's Place" slow burn series. @inept-the-magnificent was a big help! But if you're like me, and feeling a little blue, head over to Pike's Place for a winter pick me.

In the interim, Pedge and I are going back to bed...

Max's Mix Spotify

I love combining reality with fantasy, and while I'm sure this isn't a new Tumblr concept, I'm going to be cataloguing our Pedro Boys as per Pedge's suggestions! All playlists will attempt to utilize music or groups that Pedro Pascal has referenced at some point. Get your headphones and enjoy!

Triggers: music may involve profanity and adult topics, short description of character's interactions with music, smut

Pedge's Jukebox

Max's Mix: Spotify

*Max Phillips, who has had the same playlist for the last decade and still listens to it on his i-pod *Feels that recent music lacks the passion and conviction of music from the past  *For his next adjustment as Chief of Operations will offer an office-wide mandate to remove on-site music, video games, and personal phone usage during business hours *If possible, would prefer to turn a subject while listening to Beastie Boys, but if not available, enjoys the sounds of licking, sucking and gasping to absolute silence *When possessed of an unalterable mindset, will sometimes listen to “Kiss” by Prince and take a hot shower until he has an opportunity to satiate his bloodlust *Before his metamorphosis, participated in a collegiate band ironically called “The Bloodsuckers”. Even though Max doesn’t play any instruments, he enjoyed bossing the musicians as company manager *Actually enjoys listening to the elevator music that plays at the office

Don't forget to check out our recent Max fic "Bloodsucking Witch", and drop by to "Trick or Treat"! We love Spooky Season ALMOST as much as Max does...

*thanks @thecutestgrotto for the cool dividers!