The Uninvited

Sweet Dreams

This is my first time writing for tumblr OR writing lite smut, so as my therapist might suggest, “I’m not accepting feedback at this time”. Lol. It’s okay. Just be gentle, I have a lot to learn, but that can be fun too…I was a little hesitant to mention the man himself, sans character choice, but I think we all can understand that this is a FICTION and offered in the most respectful and self-indulgent ways possible.

Triggers: little bit of fluff, little bit of smut, handjob, mentions of chronic illness, insomnia, lite themes of somnophilia with consent, female reader, 18+ only

This was fucking ridiculous. You’d always known there would be peaks and valleys, but you were fed up with the inconsistencies of your body. Having a chronic illness was always a challenge, but feeling helpless was the worst symptom of all. P was the first person who didn’t make you feel like a complete invalid. Gently turning over, so as not to wake him, you silently rubbed your eyes raw, cursing your weakness. Some partner. Your breath caught in your throat as he licked his lips, starting to wake up. “You okay?” he mumbled sleepily, wrinkling his nose like a small child.

Shit. “It’s okay baby, go back to sleep” you whispered, annoyed that your insomnia was ruining the night for both of you. He arched an eyebrow, squinting just enough to see you in the early morning light. “What’s up?” he rasped, starting to lean upwards on his elbow, moving the palm of his other hand to your back. Your lower lip started to wobble immediately, propelled by fatigue and exhaustion. 

“I can’t do anything right” you grumbled, voice cracking with defeat.

“Hey, come on. That’s my person…” he trailed off a little blurrily. “What are we doing here? Advil? Water? Hugs?” he questioned, shifting as he pulled you into his body.

Crumpled against his chest, lightly fingering his white t-shirt, your eyes darkened with an idea.

I’ll show…me, you thought, snaking your hand down the middle of your bodies, trailing down his hard chest, soft stomach and bristling pubic hair.

“Oh…mm” his eyes flashed open in confusion as you cupped his groin with one hand, moving your palm slowly over his gray sweatpants.

“I…I’m not sure…ohhhh…” he swayed slightly, bucking his hips in surprise. “Is this a new therapeutic technique you read about?” he smirked into the pillow, furrowing his eyebrows together.

“This could be deeply therapeutic, if we include mouth to mouth” you teased.

“Happy to be of servic…” he hissed in quickly, starting to harden under your ministrations as you quickly moved under the fabric.

Down. Up. Around. (repeat). Down. Up. Around. (repeat)

Down. Up. Around. (repeat). Down. Up. Around. (repeat)

A small whimper escaped his lips. Maybe you COULD do something right, you pondered, as his fingers wrapped around your wrist with encouragement.

“Mmmm…” he started to moan, rhythmically moving with your hand.

Down. Up. Around (repeat). Down. Up. Around (repeat)

Down. Up. Around (repeat). Down. Up. Around. (repeat)

Dragging a pearl of precum higher up the shaft, you noticed his breath hitch and twist inside his chest, trembling slightly.

“Babe, is this hel…hellllping?” he sighed, his eyelids fluttering in ecstasy.

Oh this is helping, you mused, biting down on your lower lip. What a f@cking specimen, unraveling in front of you. You moved up to bite his chin, nuzzling the stubble on his beard and beginning to suck on his neck. “Is this okay?” you vibrated into his sternum, and then straddling his legs in one motion.

“More than ohhhhhh…” he barely got out before bucking his hips upward, chasing his orgasm.

Down. Up. Around (repeat). Down. Up. Around (repeat)

Down. Up. Around (repeat). Down. Up. Around (repeat)

It was the sexiest of meditations and soon began to reach an intoxicating fervor. 

“Oh, I can’t…ohhhh…I can’t…ohhh…”

“Sh baby, sh…You can. Cum. Cum all over me. Let me see you…”

And it was all happening, the contented moan of release, the hot stickiness radiating over your stomach, the musky smell of salt. You worked him through his pleasure and smiled contentedly. You COULD do something right, you surmised, reaching over for some tissues.

“Oh gawwwwd…” he exhaled, looking up through heavy eye-lids. “What the f@ck just happened, baby? Are we doing you next?”

Not tonight, you pouted internally, but he was already sinking lower into the mattress, pulled down by euphoria. 

“Just sleep, my honey. Rest.” you cooed, as he shivered slightly, disappearing back into the warmth of dreams and the comfort of your embrace. He nuzzled into your chest as you lightly fingered the locks of his hair.

Knowing him, if you ever fell asleep, you would find him pulling you back to life, with his curly haired head between your thighs, and his tongue around both your lips. Maybe insomnia wasn’t that bad after all, you thought, cautiously drifting into an anticipatory haze.

Moody Joel

A huge thank you to @yopossum and congrats on the 100+ followers! It was so fun to put your mood board at the epicenter of mine. It not only inspired my first mood-lit, the cherry has been popped with my first fic for Joel! As always, Pedge is a self-made man (if you count Bitmoji...)

Triggers: descriptors are mostly emotional, lots of heroine self-confusion, Jackson-era, raised voices, lite smut, pretty easy stuff, a little profanity. Of course, with Joel it's everything he DOESN'T say...

You sat, curled up on the couch, book in hand, your favorite mug of tea steaming on the nearby side table. The season had started to shift and a blustery wind was drifting through Jackson, not entirely devoid of warning, but still laced with the enigmatic mysteries of autumn. A rare opportunity to enjoy a day without patrols, harvesting or other communal activities, you had busied yourself in the garden, small living room library and the kitchen, waiting for Joel to come home. A quick intake of air as you reminded yourself that this was HIS home, not yours. Pausing in your reading you took a quick glance around the room, finding a few conspicuous items that were starting to dot HIS landscape. 

YOUR favorite mug, the one book you owned, a too small quilt that had taken all year to scrap together. You rubbed your feet together with discomfort, wondering if your presence was starting to become oppressive. Looking over you saw the mismatched boots, messily piled next to each other, seemingly disparate in this moment. Were the seasons changing in more ways than one? Were you starting to get a little TOO comfortable in a world that constantly threatened to unravel itself?

Like a bull in a china shop, you heard Joel crashing through the kitchen assembling the dinner you had prepared. You smiled, wondering if he seemed as noisy to himself, resonating in only one ear. Saying so little, but meaning so much, with a presence that seemed to dominate every space he was in. Maybe there wasn’t room for somebody as small as you.

Joel tiredly lumbered into the living room across creaking floorboards and plopped down on the couch beside you, dinner plated. You cast a sideways glance, unsurprised at his immediate delight, as he shoveled the green beans, chicken and mashed potatoes unceremoniously into his mustached mouth. Salivating slightly at his enjoyment you took a rare moment to gaze at his countenance, watching the muscles in his jaw tick, eyes closed, swallowing steadily and licking his lips. He leaned back, sighing heavily, trying to release the tension of the day.

“Long day?” you ventured, closing your book and nudging your feet under his jean clad thigh.

Joel set the plate down in his lap for a moment, tilting his head back on the couch with exhaustion. It’s possible he hadn’t even heard you as you barely caught his grunt of acknowledgement. So much of life was centered around survival, any luxury seemed nearly ridiculous in comparison. There was nothing about your arrangement that felt manipulative, but maybe it was one sided. Maybe just another utilitarian coping mechanism to survive the next atrocity.

You pulled your feet back under you, surprised at the cascading emotions and thoughts brought on by the autumnal brooding. You looked at the crackling fire, listening for the whistling wind outdoors. Your small house was just across the way, lonely, silent and cold and you wondered if things were starting to become a bit too entwined. Closing your book, you reached over tenderly to swipe a dot of gravy from the corner of his mouth, curious if he had somehow fallen asleep mid-bite. But hearing him hum in appreciation as your fingers drifted up to massage the back of his neck and scratch over his scalp. His chest rumbled with recognition, but you felt a slight pang of regret, curious if you amounted to a hired hand. Somehow a day of comparative solitude had threaded itself through your insecurities and you were suddenly vulnerable to its attack. Your face crumpled in defeat, unable to process so many feelings at once, unwilling to invite Joel into this swirling confusion.

You cleared your throat awkwardly, teetering precariously as you stood up. “I think I’ll take off, you good for the night?”. The clunky words fell out of your mouth, laced with subtitles you couldn’t interpret, as Joel’s eyes shot open confusedly.

“S’wrong?” he grumbled, perhaps more pointedly than intended.

“Nothing’s wrong” you lied, gripping the quilt protectively in front of your body and swaying slightly. “I’m just…tired, I guess…” the fib began to wrap its tendrils around your waist, cutting off the breath at the source.

“Well that’s no reason to leave, I’m just sittin’ down” he complained, furrowing his brow in confusion and wincing slightly as he sat further forward to discern your meaning.

“I know, I just…don’t want to bother you.”

Joel sat unmoving, metaphorical steam starting to emanate off his body in waves. Words didn’t come easily to him, but his survival acumen was unmatched. Something was up.

“Dinner’s real good” he stated, matter-a-factly, as though that communicated intricacies beyond your understanding. Unfortunately, it only solidified your hesitancy, as you were starting to feel like a glorified short order cook. Feeling emotionally naked you gripped the quilt desperately, inching backwards and forgetting the new side table Joel had crafted for your mugs of tea. You were just about to sputter some excuse about the seasons shifting when your heel caught on the table leg, propelling you backwards. Joel’s hand snapped out, grabbing you and the quilt you were holding and knocking his dinner to the ground with a crash.

“Goddamit, will you be more careful?!” he exclaimed, gripping you around the waist and pulling your body between his knees abruptly.

Something about the sudden adrenaline and self-indecision, disoriented your emotions even more than your body and you felt yourself well up with tears, lip wobbling in confusion.

Joel’s expression softened, as did his iron grip, as his fingers moved down your waist and lightly gripped your backside. “What’s gotten into you?’ he questioned, looking around the room as though trying to identify the shift in tonality.

“Don’t know” you lied again, unable to disentangle yourself from the growing self-loathing.

“You wanna leave?” he raised his voice, trying desperately to grasp at the threads of understanding.

“No” you pouted, finally assured of one truth. You didn’t want to leave. You just wanted to stay forever.

He huffed an exasperated puff of air into your face, squinting skeptically into your guilty expression. “Door’s right there, honey…just…” he shot back defensively, noticing the pools of emotion swimming in your eyes…”…just…”. He swallowed hard, as time started to drip more slowly, blurring his perception. He looped a finger through one of your belt buckles, tugging your hips jerkily.

“Just…is cold out, s’all” he managed to mutter, looking down at your lips disappointedly. “Gotta be careful” he grumbled, drawing his thumb across the small snippet of skin peeking from underneath your threadbare sweater. You melted a little bit at his touch, drawing yourself down onto his lap tentatively. You placed your hands on his chest, breathing together in sync, trying to take in the moment. “Gotta stick together” he rationalized, feeling a small pulse of emotion in his chest threaten to crest. The wind howled louder still, almost in agreement.“ You should stay” he suggested, placing his hands on your thighs and moving his thumb in small circles. “Dinner was REAL good” he repeated “until you made me drop it” he smirked, lightening the mood.

You felt your chest expand in a contented breath, settling down further onto his lap and relaxing slightly. “There’s more where that came from” you sulked, a little unsure of yourself.

Joel waited patiently as you sat atop him, moving his hands to your back and watching you intently.

“It IS starting to get colder” you reasoned, feeling some of your insecurity melting away with the day’s troubles.

Joel nodded his head gruffly in agreement, latching a finger at the collar of your sweater and slowly pulling you towards him. “Gotta stick together” he repeated, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, when you kissed him with newfound abandon.

Pedge Poems

Pedro Scouts was my first official Tumblr activity and Pedge and I are a little sad the fun is over. We've written a saucy RPF limerick as a poem of appreciation for all the amazing writers who contribute to the fandom to keep our sexy dreams alive and kicking! We confess, this one got a bit naughty! Thanks @pedroscouts for a fun time!

You started by taking the pledge Then bumped into someone named Pedge Now crushing fast you want it to last And wonder if he likes to edge? Another hot day you went fishing, But found yourself quietly wishing That you were his bait, you couldn’t quite wait And soon ditched the fishing for kissing. An evening or two you conspired On how one might start a bonfire After a match your lips you did latch And soon it consumed your desire. He says he’s a boy from abroad, And seems to possess a broad bod When pitching a tent, his manhood he lent And thus had you chanting, “Oh GOD!” One day was a bit of a bore You prepped at the camp to make s’mores It got a bit lick-y and sexy time sticky He called you his sweet little whore. Last week in the tent, feeling bossy, You opted to get a bit saucy You said “lookie-lookie”, come eat my scout cookie Until all your lips became glossy. A dinner of beans seemed so easy, But bubbled into something breezy You started to toot, then Pedro taboot And later you came, easy peezy. When you and Pedge started the summer Things were a bit of a bummer But now as a Scout you no longer pout And Pedge loves an everyday hummer Fandoms are fun ways for friending With people in need of some mending Together we band, while lending a hand Enjoying our night’s “happy endings”!

@pedroscouts @goodwithcheese

Oh man, I tried to avoid Marcus Pike, but he's so absolutely adorable, even in heartbreak (the song recommendation was a perfect pairing). Thanks @whocaresstillthelouvre for this fun moodboard inspo, check out my previous Marcus Pike Post for the Charcuterie Challenge...I just posted a new Roll-a-Trope Challenge inspired by @burntheedges, Y'all are going to bring me to literary heights of avarice! Or just deadlines at least...

Oooh! I love the new moodboard request! Could we try Vibe/Marcus Pike/comfort? Like cuddle couch, blankets, candles stuff? Maybe beige or gray? Something easy...

Hi Pedge! Thank you for your support! I went very cozy with dinner and some good music provided by Marcus. 💕

Speaking of music I'm going to go with "Holding On" by War on Drugs. The lyrics are very heartbroken Marcus. Now I'm headed down a different road Can we walk it side by side? Is an old memory just another way of saying goodbye?

****Please do not watch the music video for the song if you don't want to cry.****

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...

Pike's Place Elf

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

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

Series Masterlist:

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

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

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

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

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

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

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“IamsosorryIinterruptedyourholidayvacayIcantthankyouenoughforthemazingbreakfastandhospitality.HonestlyitssoembarassingthatBessiekonkedoutIamsureIcangiveitanothergo.AndthankyouagainforallofyourhelpAgentPike!”

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

“Oh watch out for the…!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Uh oh. The ex.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*thanks @unknown-till for the cool dividers

A Rose By Any Other Name...

Sigh. I'm conflicted. I love my blog title, but over the last year I've run into a little resistance. Two anons have questioned the title and last year there was tremendous discord associated with this particular nickname. I think at least one amazing writer has blocked me because of it, and I don't want to be associated with anything even peripherally gross...But I'm also working on finding my own literary voice...as I write about somebody else...ummmmm....

Charcuterie Challenge

Pedge and I were pretty late to the game on this one but I couldn't get the @happypedrohours Charcuterie Challenge out of my head and off of my plate. So here we are with the last minute offering! I'm not as familiar with Marcus Pike, but @perotovar and I noticed that he seems to be eating a lot, and we have no complaints here!

Ingredients

Candy Coating sweet as Marcus Sprinkles for the sparkle of life Parchment Paper for Sexy Messiness

Directions

Fall in love with Marcus Pike. Obvs. Place parchment paper on a baking sheet. Read your daily sexy fics until you are hawt as hell. That will make it easier to melt your candy coating as quickly as possible. Dip the pretzels half of the way into the candy coating (allow Marcus to lick the coating off of your fingers and other extremities). Place the candy coated pretzel on the parchment and cover with sprinkles, if you’re not already on the floor, kissing and hugging each other in a sweet, sticky mess. If you find yourself overheating, place in freezer. Oooops! Just the pretzels, not Marcus, he won’t fit!

Enjoy sexy time ASAP. Have pretzels for after-sex-time snack, and stay salty!

Salty Poetry

Body quivers as hot palms touch me Arousal is written all over my face Wrapped inside two muscular arms Ten fingers lock in a tight embrace. Warm breath tickles satin shoulders Skin lights up with an electric charge Hot lips nuzzle chiseled naked flesh And a solid man part shows large. Sweet plum bosom tips point at you Fiery tongue caress the crimson peaks Squeals spill from my red parted lips Soft nibbles steal breaths-cannot speak. My whimpers drive granite to throb Arousal lights cheeks with a pink glow Sweaty bodies flex into pretzel twists Nimble fingers flick the creamy flow.

Credit: Deborahlee, 2016, @happypedrohours

Intoxicated

As we continue our therapeutic series, please proceed with caution. This blurb is not written to romanticize the disease of alcoholism, but to speak to concepts of control, intimacy and consent.

Triggers: alcohol, mostly fluff, implied smut, loss of control, intoxication, hmmm...maybe infantilism, if you squint...

Weeeeeeeee! You were drunk. Drunkity, drunk, drunk, drunk, druuuuuunk. You were flying high. Buzzing, floating, tipsying, trip-sying…Literally so, as Pedge grasped you around the waist, fumbling with the keys as your head lolled onto his shoulder.

“I feel goooooood…” you smiled into his neck.

“Gooood, pobrecita. Let’s get you some water and get you to bed so you can feel even better…”

“Bed…We've shared a bed…I like sleeping. We share sleeping too.”

“Mmmmhmmm…” he hummed, finally jarring the door opening and practically carrying you over the threshold.

“You’re so pretty…” you mumbled, as he awkwardly fumbled for the lights, propping you up against the wall and attempting to shut the door. “I’m pretty?” he questioned, grinning dolefully and placing a hand across your forehead, checking your temperature. “Are you hot? Do you want a shower first?”

“Yourrrr hawt…” you drawled, placing your hands on his stomach and jamming your fingers into the waistband of his jeans. He grabbed you around the waist again before you fell over, and started walking backwards towards the bedroom. “Is my little girl feeling frisky?” he pecked at your lips, innocently, attempting to maneuver you down the hallway.

“Frisky!” you repeated, immediately shutting your eyes as the room spun sideways AND backwards. You missed a few moments, finding yourself now prostrate on the bed as Pedge removed your shoes carefully, massaging your calves.

“Druuuuunk!” you sang out, accidentally kicking him in the face.

“Ouch!” he grabbed his jaw, rubbing carefully and grabbing your other foot before it connected with his chest. You were a lightweight, to be sure, generally only getting drunk…actually, he wasn’t sure if he’d EVER seen you this drunk. There was an industry event and you were coming straight from work having missed every meal, except a stale granola bar. Needless to say, the open bar had originally seemed like a good idea, but he wanted to make sure you didn’t regret it in the morning. He had other plans for the morning BUT he wasn’t sure about your preferences during intoxicated sexy time so he was playing it safe. But damn if you weren’t making this decision challenging.

“Are you mad at me?” you shifted gears dramatically, propping yourself up on your elbows, haphazardly rubbing your eyelids and smearing your mascara sideways.

“What? No! Why would I be mad at you?”

“I don’t know….hashtagdrunk” you pouted, swallowing dryly.

“I’m mad that I let you get dehydrated and had to spend most of that event talking with people I didn’t know, rather than dancing with you…” he admitted, grabbing your hands and pulling you forward gently.

You slumped against his chest as he pulled down the zipper at the back of your dress.

“You smell nice” you slurred, sucking on his shoulder blade, through his dress shirt. He rubbed small circles against your back, breathing deeply and pulling the shoulders of the dress down to your waist. You leaned back, your bare breasts on display for him as he held the back of your neck, lowering you back on the bed.

“Do I smell nice?” you batted your eyelashes seductively, looking up into his countenance.

“Ay Dios mio, yes” he chuckled, kissing you lightly on the lips and pulling your dress off the rest of the way. He hung it lightly on the bedside chair and returned to find you dangling your feet off the side of the bed.

“Are you planning on kicking me again, or can I get you some Advil first?”

Your hands balled up in fists beside you, “SEEE! You’re mad at meeeee!” you whined, beginning to tear up.

“Okay, okay, shhhh” he lowered his weight on top of you, stroking your hair and tucking it behind your ears. “I’m not mad. I’m dehydrated. I’M thirsty. Aren’t you thirsty?”

“Drinks!” you piped up, nearly kneeing him in the crotch.

“Ah!” he grabbed your leg deftly, sliding his hand up to your ass and giving a little spank. “Caught ya that time, Ali!” he planted a small kiss on your nose.

As though transported by magic, you opened your eyes to find him vanished, immediately complaining, “Where’d you goooo? I’m lonely.”

“I know, pobrecita, I’m finding the Advil!” his voice drifted in from the bathroom as he rummaged around the medicine cabinet, drawing a glass of water.

“I’m cold!” you shivered, covering yourself with your arms and curling up into a ball.

“Shit, sorry baby…” he came back in with the Advil and water and immediately started wrapping you in the comforter.

“I’m a burrito!” you joked, scrunching your face like a small child.

“My breakfast burrito…” he teased, kissing your face and neck and forehead, and scooping you up into an embrace.

“Where’s my drink?” you confusedly pouted, unsure of…most things at this point.

“Here at Casa de Pedro we offer bedside service, please be sure to tip your waiter at your earliest convenience…” he reached over for the water and medicine. “Drink, please”.

“Bossy staff…” you managed to retort before gratefully accepting and closing your eyes contentedly. He sat back against the headboard, rocking you slightly and humming to himself for a while.

“Am I floating?” you mumbled, into his chest, grabbing at this dress shirt.

“Yes, pobrecita, we are on a cloud. We are hydrated and sleepy, very sleepy.”

“Yeah, we’re drinky…” you agreed. “BUT…that means we’re a rain cloud…and have to pee….”

“Okay” he chuckled, groaning slightly with the weight of both your bodies. Rising from a sitting position and dropping the comforter he carried you like a sack of potatoes into the bathroom. “But after this, we’re going to bed…”

“Bed!” you exclaimed eyes closed, “floating” into the restroom. He tried to set you down gently on the toilet, but you were having difficulty balancing yourself. He braced your chest with his forearm and reached over for the wet wipes. 

“You’re gonna kill me if I let you go to bed without removing that eye make-up” he said, nearly to himself.

“It’sssss raining!” you droned, finally able to relieve yourself and resting both hands on his broad shoulders, swaying a little with the effort.

“Mmmhmmm…” he murmured, pursing his lips and concentrating on cleaning your face delicately. “Is that better?”

You smiled with affection, opening your eyes dopily. But now the rain cloud started tearing up again, lips wobbling and cascading into a full on ugly cry.

“What happened?” he questioned, amusedly concerned at the shifting waters of emotion he found himself happily wading into. He stroked your face, wiping the fat, salty tears that were running every which way.

“I’m not a rain cloud. I’m ruining everythinggggg…” you whined, dropping your head on his shoulder and sobbing quietly.

“You’re not ruining anything” he comforted, rubbing your back and eventually pulling you to a standing position, steadying you as much as possible.

“But I’m a drunk rain cloud!” you cried, hiccuping slightly and collapsing your weight into his hips.

“Yes, but you’re MY drunk rain cloud” he twinkled, kissing you on the forehead.

“I am?” you muttered, now finding yourself back on the bed, unsure of how you arrived there.

“Arms up!” he encouraged, caressing the sides of your torso in an upward motion and dropping one of his large, Lakers shirts over your head. Disastrously, you tried to assist the dressing process as he wrangled you into sleepwear. Needless to say, there was a lot of giggling, hiccuping and sniffling in this endeavor, before you found yourself lying against his chest, fully ensconced in bed and floating towards happy oblivion.

“Mmmm, floaty cloud…” you droned, pulling his face towards you in a tender kiss.

“Good night, pobrecita” he smiled into your mouth, gripping you around the waist.

“Yes, good night both of us” you sloppily reached down to grab his crotch, with abandon, but noticing him stiffen in more ways than one. He wrapped his hand around your wrist, pulling back, slightly. “No, pobrecita, time for sleeping” he encouraged.

“Nooooo!” you whined, pushing your breasts up against his torso and bouncing haphazardly.

“Excuse me” he doubled down, grasping your hands in front of you and kissing your mouth softly. “No thank you, rain cloud, I would like to go to sleep”.

You froze, mid bounce, completely overwhelmed with every alcohol fueled emotion that seemed possible. Fear. Guilt. Anger. Sadness. Confusion. Exhaustion. Nausea. But unable to metabolize any of it, you immediately sat up, on overload.

“You don’t want me?” you swayed from side to side, nearly knocking into the headboard.

“That is most definitely NOT the case” he smirked, grabbing your head before it hit the bedpost and massaging your scalp.

“You’re pretty and I’m not!” you moaned, starting to struggle in his grasp with petulance and scooting backwards. “You don’t want me!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa…not true. Please sit still…” 

…but you were having none of it, as adrenaline pumped into your intoxicated system, fueling a small temper tantrum. Losing your grip, you fell backwards out of the bed onto the carpeted floor, pushing yourself into a teetering tower of emotion.

“Careful, hermosa, I take great care of my breakfast burritos, please come back to bed.”

“No” you pouted, crossing your arms over your chest, stumbling forward and backwards. Pedge took a deep breath, unsure of how to coax a burrito OR a rain cloud back to bed, but doubly sure of its necessity as you confidently staggered in place.

He propped his head up on one hand, gazing at you mischievously. “Okay it’s time for a game.”

You pursed your lips, half-heartedly irritated, “I like games”.

“I know you do, pobrecita” he shifted to the edge of the bed, sitting up. “If you can walk a straight line from the wall to the bed we can continue this conversation horizontally…”

“Oooh!” you clapped your hands enthusiastically, rushing over to the wall, bumping into several items en route. Strangely enough, you found Pedge waiting for you, arms outstretched.

“Wow! Yourrrrr really fast, you already won the first game…” you pouted, collapsing slightly into his embrace.

“Well, I like games too” he grinned, holding you in a soft hug. “For this game, we’re gonna count to ten and then start walking, okay?”

You sleepily nodded your head into his chest, “Okay, m’ready…”

“1…2….3….4….7, 6, 5…2…”

You sighed heavily, blinking your eyes rapidly in confusion. “Those numbers are funny…you’re doing it wrong…” you complained, beginning to drift again.

“I am? Well, you’re distracting me, hermosa. Okay I better start over…1…2…3…4….3….”

Not only were your eyelids getting heavier, your whole body felt like a ton of bricks as you felt him swaying you side to side, inching towards the bed.

“M’floating straight, right?” you blearily asked, legs buckling slightly beneath you.

“Oh yes, you are definitely winning this game” he cupped his hands under your ass, carrying you back to bed “but now I’ve lost count so I have to start over again…1…2…3…3.5…”.

“I like this game” you sighed, pecking at his neck with whatever energy you had left.

“I like YOU” he whispered in your ear, tucking you back into bed with a small kiss.

“I don’t have any arms” you observed, content to keep your eyes shut, but furrowing your brow in consternation.

“Rain clouds don’t need any arms, hermosa” you felt the mattress dip beneath you as he settled in for the night beside you, pulling your torso against his chest. Not five seconds transpired before you immediately burst into tears again.

“I’m sorrrryyyyyyyyy” you wailed, suddenly embarrassed and guilty that you had been so needy. AND that you had apparently lost the game.

You heard some soft tittering behind you, and kisses at the nape of your neck. “Pobrecita, please try to be a little nicer to yourself. If I have to keep attending this many events with an open bar and an empty stomach we’re BOTH gonna need some help.”

“Ammmm…M’I…stilllll….your…break (hiccup) fast….burrrrito?” you huffed, starting to hyperventilate.

“If you feel up to it, I have BIG plans for breakfast tomorrow and they most assuredly involve eating you.”

You stopped abruptly, hiccuping into your pillow. 

“That’s your reward for winning the game” he smiled, gripping you tightly around the waist.

“I won?” you smirked, starting to drift into a heavy sleep.

“My plans for your morning wake-up involve a win for both of us…” he teased “Are you ready for the next game?”

“Mmmhhmmmm” you intoned, floating into a hazy dream.

“The first one to fall asleep wins in 5…4….3…2….”.

🎶 Name Song Game 🎶

Thanks @wordywarriorwrites for the tag! Pedge and I have been inspired lately with Pedge's Jukebox, and I happen to be a professional musician! BUT most of my participation on Tumblr has been pretty one-sided and doesn't actually include my peripheral passions like musical theater! It's a bit niche, but here is my Username Song Game, J-style. And don't forget to check out my completed RPF "New York, New York Series" that fantastically celebrates my time there...

J's Jams (Spotify)

In case you haven't done it already: @timelordfreya, @inept-the-magnificent, @morallyinept, @sawymredfox, @purpleprincess75