The One With Racism

Through the Valley

Thank you to @auteurdelabre for our beautiful coloring book! Pedge and I have been in mourning, and trying to avoid Joel Miller at all costs. Imagine my suprise when I discovered this image felt pretty Joel-coded. I paired it with the lyrics as sung by Ashley Johnson...

I walk through the valley of the shadow of death And I fear no evil because I'm blind to it all And my mind and my gun they comfort me Because I know I'll kill my enemies when they come Surely goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life And I will dwell on this earth forevermore Said, I walk beside the still waters and they restore my soul But I can't walk on the path of the right because I'm wrong Well, I came upon a man at the top of a hill Called himself the savior of the human race Said he come to save the world from destruction and pain But I said, "How can you save the world from itself?" 'Cause I walk through the valley of the shadow of death And I fear no evil because I'm blind Oh, and I walk beside the still waters and they restore my soul But I know when I die my soul is damned

*never damned to me honey

@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

Moody SNL

Ohmygawwww...Don't cry. You're gonna make me cry. Honestly I think I fell in love on the spot. Always loved "The Mandalorian" but this completely did me in, along with his Variety Lie Detector Test...And the Talk Art Podcast...And "The Last of Us"...I mean, what can we say? It's been a slippery slope, but we should have won the Emmy (collectively, as a fandom)...

NewYorkNewYork

Okay Broadway Babies, Tumblr may have finished this trend, but Pedge and I are going strong! If RPF is for you, check out my most personal work yet, and first series. It's a fantastical journey through my professional time in NY, and what better way to celebrate than with Pedge at our side!

Triggers: Set in 2014, it might progress to some lite smut, but this first episode only includes a slightly tipsy trip and mild profanity. NYC is rough enough--save the drama for your llama...

New York, New York Series Moody Thespian Pedge Tweets Masterlist Moody Theater J's Jams

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!

Afterglow Series

I love the throw down as much as the next gal, but I love the "Afterglow" even more. Excited to attempt this sexy time experimentation, writing for some of the Pedro Boys with variety in shorter snippets. Wanted a therapeutic outlet for our great and not so great "O"'s. Mostly self-indulgent intimacy writing, though Pedge is VERY excited...

Phoenix Rising (Javi Edition) A Different Happy Ending (Marcus Pike Edition) Workplace Benefits (Javier Pena Edition)

Pedro-Tober #5

Awwww! Inspired by @alyssamariag and @norththelemon I've decided to feature curated pics/art, juxtaposed with fics and AI inspired Bitmoji. So much artistry to celebrate this October, we have our stylishly decorated hands full. Look at these amazing artists! Thanks for making our month so colorful!

26.) Vanity Fair IG: laurenbdoeslife

27.) The Last of Us IG: craftingwithamyc

28.) Marcus Moreno @alyssamariag

Marcus Pike "Pike's Place", "A Different Happy Ending" @pedges-world

29.) The Uninvited @norththelemon

30.) Fav Awards Fit IG: milkbreaddoodles

31: SAG Awards IG: sewfydoodles

Series Masterlist

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's Bookshop The Calm

Grab a Latte! in the foyer with this sweet fic "Just a Cover" by @popcornforone before heading into the Bookshop!

Triggers: profanity, Last of Us canon + references, yay lite smut!, MAJOR spoilers for "Crime and Punishment", references to alcohol/prostitution/murder/rape/death...

Series Masterlist

Words: 3k

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. Having Levi and his posse sulk around the commune for the last several weeks was a tumultuous backdrop to the real foreground of your attention; Joel. While the visitors were slated to leave by the end of the month, that did nothing to quell your fears of town gossip or possible altercation. The main protection and acceptance you were currently enjoying was from Joel, and you never wanted it to end.

After that fateful dinner you had expected the participants to shun you or at least offer silent judgement from a watchful distance. But, if anything, it had only seemed to intensify your unique connection to the extended Miller Family. Somehow your own self-perceived fall from grace had engendered more of their affection and resolution. Maria was intent on discussing more of your leadership responsibilities, Tommy seemed exceptionally pleased that Joel and you were spending more time together. Even Ellie was paying rapt attention in class, and seemed to have an ever greater sense of care and support during your interactions. And Joel. Joel had surprised you most of all.

His once stolid and nearly gruff appearance had softened in almost every way; at least when he was around you. You were almost spending more time at the Bookshop than at school, not just to avoid the wandering eyes of Levi and his group, but to vanish in the safety of literature, coffee and your newfound burgeoning relationship with Joel. It was far too early to label anything at this point. You inwardly smirked at the incredulity of it all. A boyfriend, in the midst of the apocalypse? But yours was more than a passing friendship. There was an innate understanding, an “other-ness” that you somehow shared, and within that, had found a sense of belonging. You just didn’t know how far that belonging actually extended.

With Ellie’s help you had nearly finished the Arts and Recreation section, but were newly entrenched in the Literature categorization. Not that you were complaining. Almost everyday, if Joel wasn’t on a patrol, or the school day didn’t encapsulate your existence, you could be found at The Bookshop. Not that Joel ever let anyone shop there. Besides you, Rascal the Cat was his most loyal customer. And while the Bookshop was still in assembly, there was another somewhat clandestine reason; Joel couldn’t keep his hands off you. Only occasionally caught in a lip-lock by Tommy or Ellie, even this indulgence was becoming steadily more difficult, as you found unique ways to extend your ongoing “literary discussion”.

You had already unpacked the varied interpretations of the title, “Crime and Punishment”, indicating that the Russian word for crime was much more indicative of “transgression”. This seemed vaguely appropriate as you lost your train of thought with Joel’s stubbled beard and soft lips winding their way across your clavicle, your voice hitching raspily in your own throat. You tried to explain the import of interpretations like “crossing a line” or “stepping across a barrier”, but that was hard to do when Joel had your eyes rolling back in your head languidly as he cupped your breasts softly in his massive hands. So much for academic objectivity.

One night after Ellie had gone upstairs, you and Joel sat, kissing quietly in front of the living room fireplace, two untouched glasses of whiskey sitting on the handmade coffee table beside you. Joel’s hands had found themselves weighted at your waist, his calloused fingers teasing the hemline of your shirt, tickling the bare skin just beneath. You were straddled across his lap, your breasts nearly in his face as you cupped his jawline tenderly between two hands, licking into his mouth. Pausing to catch your breath, you gently relaxed atop him, feeling his hardened length beneath. You sat lower, wiping his lower lip tenderly with your thumb. 

“I think you might be one of my best students…” you drawled, winking lazily at him, as he gazed darkly back.

“What’dya think Teach, am I gonna get a good grade in class?” his voice edged lowly, making sure to keep quiet, lest Ellie get an earful of your evening activities from upstairs.

“Well, you’ve been doing so much, HANDS-ON…” at this you ground your hips in a circle over Joel’s tented pants, eliciting a groaning growl from him as you clapped a cautious hand over his mouth… “…extra-credit this semester. I would say your grade is rising as we speak…” you taunted, reveling in the pained delight that registered across Joel’s brow. He looked up at your showcased cleavage, licking his lips slowly with anticipation.

“And what about the oral examinations?” he mumbled into your neck, dragging his lips across the delicate skin of your décolletage. “When do those begin?” he teased, sucking lightly, just below your ear, drawing forth small giggles from your trembling mouth. You were just about to answer when Ellie’s door opened, her head buried behind Joel’s copy of “Crime and Punishment”.

“Snake-Eyes DIES?!” she exclaimed somewhere between disbelief and delight, slowly descending the stairs as you repositioned yourselves more appropriately, at arms length. You had just finished smoothing your shirt and adopting an innocent expression when she placed herself in front of you, cocking an eyebrow quizzically.

“I know you’re making out. It’s fine” she bluntly offered, Joel rolling his eyes with exasperation. 

“Did ya need somethin’?” he huffed, crossing his arms with frustration, before joining her line of questioning. “Snake Eyes DIES?!” he scoffed, looking over at you for confirmation. You shrugged enigmatically, a small smile already plastered across your contented face.

“He fucking offs himself!” Ellie smiled, not even attempting to hide her disdain. “I know, I know…LANGUAGE…” she interrupted before Joel even had a chance. But after attacking Dunya and arguing with Rascal. And probably killing the old lady, and maybe harassing the girl. I did NOT see that coming…” she shook her head confusedly.

“Well good-riddance!” Joel shouted, “…sounds like he had it comin’! Only…don’t get too far ahead of me, I only just finished readin’ the dinner scene…” he pouted, kicking Ellie’s boot with his own as she smiled mischievously. 

“Doesn’t seem like you have a lot of time for readin’ lately!” she toyed, dangling the book in front of Joel’s face before he grabbed it defensively, with a knowing grin. 

“Alright, alright…apologize to Teach before she heads home. Sounds like I need to do some research to catch up with y’all” he confessed.

“What am I apologizin’ for exactly?” Ellie sarcastically argued, reaching for the book which Joel swiftly held out of her reach. 

“Seems to me you still owe that report about weather cycles affecting crop rotation and seasonal climate shifts…” you offered, grabbing a pillow in anticipatory defense.

“Snitch” Ellie grinned, grabbing another pillow and hitting your own, before disappearing back upstairs and calling behind her, “BE SURE TO USE A CONDOM!”

“ELLIE!” Joel bellowed, standing to his feet with irritation as you covered your mouth to stifle the latest bout of giggling. Joel stood poised with his hands on his hips, mid-scowl, before noticing your squeaks of embarrassment, his frustration beginning to fade into the distance as he watched you unravel before him. An impish smirk appeared on his face, as he tossed the book to the side and draped his broad form above you.

“Something funny, Teach?” he asked, peppering your sternum with chaste and not so chaste kisses, as your laughter died down to soft hums of approval.

“She sees a lot” you observed, tucking your hands into the back pockets of his jeans as he gently lowered himself to your chest, snuggling in for a respite. 

“This okay? M’not squashin’ ya?” he mumbled into your chest, as his body incrementally relaxed atop you. Guiding your fingers through his peppered locks of hair you parted your legs slightly to capture more of his weight. 

“I’m a bit more durable than all that” you managed, relishing his supine figure before you. After a few minutes the room settled into a contented quiet, so much so that you wondered if Joel had fallen asleep before his low voice tentatively drawled, “You know, you can tell me anything. Anything in the world…” he gulped, unwilling to break the magnetic spell the two of you had crafted, before turning his head upward to catch your gaze. “Just want you to feel safe. Safe as…” he paused, considering his next words cautiously… “…safe as I feel with you” he finished, resting his head back on your chest sweetly. Your heart swelled within you. You didn’t feel a sense of shame, exactly. But wondering how Joel might react to the details of your past was carving a hole in your potential intimacy, and you welcomed the open door of conversation.

“I was young…” you started, as Joel’s head whipped up attentively, shifting his weight to the side of your body on the couch so he could get a better look at you. “I had made it to grad school, but my parents weren’t in the picture so much, and money was starting to get tight”. Joel fixedly held your stare, willing you to feel his support and encouragement if you needed it. “One of my friends had experimented with webcams…Remember those?” you chuckled, as Joel nodded in affirmation, nudging you forward. “Seemed harmless enough at the time. I made a little money with simple tasks at first, but soon I got connected to Levi…”. Joel seemed to stop breathing at the mention of his name, his jaw ticking slightly with restraint. “Well…you’ve met him. He always seem to show up at the ‘right’ moment. Saving the day, but somehow taking advantage simultaneously”. Joel breathed deeply, reaching a hand up to stroke your back in wide circles. “He assured me everything would stay virtual, until…well it didn’t. I was definitely complicit, but before I knew it, I was essentially a call-girl, and everything was very much in-person. Levi decided to really play up the ‘teacher’ aspect of my persona, and it became my calling card. It felt ridiculous to be pursuing my Masters in Education, all the while playing up those same qualities in…more intimate situations” your face reddened slightly at the confession. “It wasn’t really what I wanted. But it paid the bills. And it was my choice. A choice Levi definitely took advantage of, but my choice nonetheless. Sometimes it actually felt empowering. Until…it didn’t…” you trailed off, remembering some of the darker details of those years.

“Should I not call you by that nickname? I didn’t know…” Joel shifted upwards on his forearms, before you halted him mid-apology. 

“I love it. It was always my dream. I love being a teacher, and I don’t regret the choices I made to bring those dreams to fruition. Maybe it didn’t happen the way I dreamt, but it’s still mine” you shook your head with surprise as you articulated your clandestine thoughts for the first time. “Still think you’re one of my best students, Miller” you whispered toyingly, noticing Joel’s cheeks gain a pinkish tint as his chest rumbled in affirmation.

“Looking forward to those oral exams, whenever you feel ready” Joel jested, drawing you in for an extended, passionate kiss. You sighed quietly into his mouth, before he pensively pulled back. “Don’t want you to feel like you have to keep secrets with me” he mused, bringing his forehead tenderly to yours. 

You breathed one another in for several minutes before you hesitantly whispered, “Feel the same way Joel. You know you can tell me anything”. Joel sighed a deep breath of contemplation, rallying himself for the next step.

“Ellie mentioned…my Sarah?” he mumbled, gazing downward so much so that you only saw the beauty of his lashes flitting quickly. 

“YOU mentioned Sarah…” Joel’s quick intake of air at her name, flashed painfully across his face and yours, as his eyesight rose haltingly to catch your own. 

“When…?” he croaked, before closing his eyes in remembrance. “That night…I couldn’t get her outta my head” he nodded, thinking back on the drunken conversation several weeks ago. “The patrol was a nightmare. And…worried about Ellie and you…” he trailed off, trying to piece together the sketchy details, but just reflecting on Sarah’s smile. “You’d’ve liked her” his voice cracked sweetly as you abruptly grasped him around the torso, smashing your face into his chest.

“You don’t have to say anything” the tears welled up within you, desperate to somehow remove the searing pain of loss.

“Not much to tell now” he nearly whimpered. “I had her…and then…I didn’t. Coulda done more. S’my fault…” his throat closed with emotion as you squeezed him tighter still.

“I see the way you love Ellie” you managed to get out thickly. “Can’t convince me otherwise. I know a good dad when I see one…” you encouraged, reaching up to wipe away your tears cascading into Joel’s telltale plaid shirt.

“Nothing I wouldn’t do for that girl” his voice took on a serrated edge, as you pulled back to gaze at him appraisingly. “She mention anything about…how we came to Jacksonville?” he faltered, unsure of his next steps.

“She told me about The Preacher” you swallowed dryly, watching a flicker of rage pass over Joel’s face quickly as he nodded curtly. 

“There’s things…” he tried to continue but was steadily growing more tense “…things you don’t know about Ellie. Or me…” he bit down hard, his mouth a thin line of resolution, watching your eyes narrow judiciously before placing a single finger over his lips wisely.

“What have you done to yourself?” you murmured rhetorically as Joel’s eyes painfully closed, a single tear disappearing into the scruff of his beard. And there you stayed, held in one another’s arms for the evening, until finding a restless sleep. It was early dawn when you disentangled yourselves from one another’s embrace, shakily starting the next day, and whatever the unknown future might hold.

The next day you were scheduled to meet with Tommy and Maria to discuss future administrative plans for the commune. Maria’s pregnancy was really starting to show, and you didn’t dare ask when her potential due date was. You could feel the palpable excitement and tension in the air as you joined them in the town meeting hall.

“Joel doesn’t want to interfere with commune business” Tommy began, shuffling some papers hurriedly before him. 

“Give him a gun and a cause…” Maria shook her head disapprovingly, avoiding Tommy’s reproachful gaze.

“Come on darlin’…” Tommy chastised, sounding once again like his older brother, in voice as much as demeanor. “Told ya we can trust him” Tommy began before Maria halted him silently.

“I know when townsfolk are holding secrets” Maria reprimanded, looking over at you apologetically. “No offense, Teach, just a gift I have. Investigating. Used to be a lawyer in the time before. Comes naturally to me. I know a sinner from a saint, and they’re often one and the same” she wisely observed, before reflecting a bit further. “Except that Levi, for one…” she inhaled skeptically, quickly glancing over at you for confirmation.

“Levi isn’t someone you want around any longer than is absolutely necessary” you bluntly stated, pleased with your growing sense of self-confidence. Maybe Joel was starting to rub off on you.

“I hate to be so beholden to him after their last minute redemptive strike…” she pensively acquiesced.

“Even Joel said he might not have made it back without their assistance…” Tommy chimed in begrudgingly. Joel hadn’t mentioned that. Granted, this was before Levi’s full intentions were known, but were you really willing to sacrifice Joel’s well being for your own discomfort? Maybe there was some kind of olive branch you could extend, making the future somewhat tolerable. You had changed. Maybe other people could too.

“Maybe we could give them some kind of test” you ventured, pursing your lips thoughtfully.

“Alright, Teach!” Tommy cheered, clocking Maria’s chagrin. “Pop quiz time!”

You couldn’t help but chuckle softly, getting a small indication of the Miller playfulness that often lurked mischievously beneath.

“Maybe we send them out on our next dangerous patrol, and keep them on a steady leash” Maria agreed, taking notes in her own administrative notebook. “Good idea…”. Tommy gave a quick clandestine wink that brought a victorious smile to your face, perhaps motivating your next point.

“Regarding…our dinner conversation” you began, before Maria stopped you.

“Water under the bridge…” she tutted, not lifting her eyes from the notebook. You and Tommy shared a pregnant pause, as he returned your gaze definitively.

“We all have a past. Don’t mean we can’t have a future” Tommy succinctly encouraged, eliciting a curt nod from Maria.

“Some secrets should probably stay hidden” you muttered under your breath, reflecting on Joel’s past admonition, noticing Tommy shift uncomfortable in his chair. Maria was breathing steadily across from you, still not looking up.

“You talk to Joel?” she quirked her head to the side, looking at Tommy knowingly before he averted eye contact.

“He said enough” you intimated, sensing the growing tension, though somewhat unaware of its origin. “Told me about Sarah” you finished, attempting to gauge the telepathic conversation happening between the married couple.

“He mention anything else?” Maria probed, Tommy gripping the edges of the table in a stylistically Miller fashion.

“Darlin’…” he warned, shaking his head slightly, in earnest.

Maria clamped her mouth shut skeptically as her brow furrowed in conflict. “I’m not sure how much my….brother in-law might have revealed” she began, weighing her words carefully. “Truth will out” she finally decided, sitting back in her chair resolutely. Tommy sighed a heavy breath, closing his eyes fixedly. 

Truth will out. In Jacksonville you had found a new home and a new start. But perhaps there were some things that should ultimately remain in the past. You thought on Joel’s near confession, and the sheer depth of knowledge you lacked about Ellie, Sarah and so much more. Would it be possible for Levi and his group to somehow fit into the commune without disrupting the precarious new start you had finally crafted for yourself? Or was the future forever fated to be doomed by elements of the past? You wanted to believe in new beginnings. You wanted to believe in love. And more than anything you wanted to know Joel Miller for who he truly was. But as you reflected on your own secrets and the apocalyptic territory you were barely surviving, perhaps there was more still to the enigmatic narrative of Joel and Ellie.

But in this moment, you weren’t entirely sure you wanted to find out.

Pedro-Tober #4

Inspired by @alyssamariag and @norththelemon I've decided to feature curated pics/art, juxtaposed with fics and AI inspired Bitmoji. So much artistry to celebrate this October, look at these amazing artists! Also, it's the last week to "Trick or Treat"! Hit me up!

20.) Frankie Morales IG: VanessaDraws, "Moody Frankie" @pedges-world

21.) Curls @norththelemon

22.) Gladiator @southparkpedro

23.) Din Jarin IG: Tealspy

24.) Sundance IG: Vanessa Draws

25.) Javier Pena IG: Junes.Pegasus, Afterglow Series @pedges-world

Series Masterlist