#jett's pedro boys

[morallyinept]

Candles - A Joel Miller Birthday One Shot

Summary: It's your birthday and you're convinced that Joel has forgotten. Or worse, that he's hiding something from you.

Pairing: Post-Outbreak Joel Miller x F!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. It’s you, bub.)

Word Count: 4.8k

Scoville Smut Rating:🌶️🌶️ “It's the emergence, of.”

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.

Smutty - Established relationship/unprotected PIV (wrap up, folks!) Angst & Joel being a miserable bastard on your birthday.

NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ. ☝🏻Don’t come at me; you’ve been plenty warned.

Author’s Note: Written for my birthday. Completely self-indulgent; Joel's the best gift, right? For anyone else celebrating their birthday today, I'm sending you the biggest smooch. 💋🖤

Check out my other birthday story, featuring Frankie Morales, called Birthday Cake.

MASTERLIST | JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST

Enjoy! 🖤

Joel doesn't like birthdays.

His birthday, September twenty-sixth, was the day the whole world went to shit. Outbreak day.

He lost Sarah on his birthday. His watch stopped when he was shot at, so he can't be sure if it was still his birthday or not, but that day and the events are ingrained in his mind, carved into the blood smeared bone in the back of his skull.

The root of all of his resentment at how he failed to stick a bullet in himself and hold his sweet Sarah again in the afterlife.

Even before the world fell, birthdays were just another day. Another brick in the wall. But they matter to you; bending his ear constantly about imaginary scenarios and the types of things you’d do if you still could celebrate it.

He wants to tell you to quit harpin' on 'bout it, but he's not cruel, despite that reputation preceding him.

Ordinarily, your excitement at such a trivial thing of adding rings to your tree trunk would give him some morsel of joy, but not when it serves a harshly confronting reminder of everything he's lost.

He remains stoic and focused, unreadable. Life and constant, crushing hardship has turned Joel into a shell of the man he once was. He knows no peace, alienated from calm.

The ink is running off the pages in his book that you thought you could read so well in the early days. The chirpy rambling from your mouth soon dips and you withdraw, keeping schtum about it further when you see the hackles of his shoulders rise.

Your birthday has been on the approach for some time now, layers of carbonic dread forming under the skin as the days move closer and closer towards it, and it's evident that Joel doesn't share your enthusiasm.

And Joel, although resolute in his usual steeliness, seems more distracted as of late too.

The lights are on, but there’s no-one home when he looks at you anymore. Conversation has been reduced to annoyed grunts and the three-sixty roll of his eyeballs clacking around in his sockets more so than usual.

And it’s all reduced to ash as the uninvited thoughts begin to infect and plague you about the possible root cause.

You ask him, one gloomy afternoon as the rain pelts against the grubby pane in your shared apartment in the QZ. Joel invited you into his home in the embryonic stage of your courting. Cleared some space through the little that he has to accommodate you and slot you into his life this past year. Made room for you in his bed.

You struggle sometimes to remember what life was like without him, as cliché as it sounds. Almost a full, singular rotation around the sun and yet Joel feels ingrained in your blood, kindred.

So why do you feel so sick to your gut right now?

He’s pulling on his boots, a low grumble heard when he leans forward and he feels his back crack with the strain. You’re getting ready mentally for him to depart from you for a few days on a scouting run, and it gets harder each time he leaves.

“Joel, is everything okay?” You ask him, looking at him through the reflection in the glass from behind you, with eyes that tell you he knows that you know something is up with him.

More so than his usual grouchy self that you find endearing despite the fluctuating temperance. That a part of him isn’t functioning properly like it used to, and the thought of that - that you can see that so plainly when he tries his damndest to hide it from you - is disconcerting to say the very least.

What else are you hiding from me, Joel?

“What d’ya mean?” He asks, his eyes and thick fingers focused on battling with small knots that aren’t made for giant hands.

“Us.” You say tentatively like it's a foreign word in your mouth.

Taboo to announce it out loud; you've both never confirmed it wholly. It's always been assumed that you're his and he's yours.

You look at the bleak, grey of the outside world. A gated world that’s incredibly small, and getting smaller as the intrepid seconds wear on.

Questions, thoughts and images; all blinking through you trying to piece it all together whilst you move stagnantly through a heavy swamp of confusion. The exact truth is staring you in the face, but try as you might to refute it; it’s plainly obvious and it begins to terrify you in new ways.

He’s pulling away from you, has been for some time now.

You can feel it in your bones as they twist and contort under your skin mercilessly. Invading your dreams and depriving you of any sleep. Nightmarish images invade tenfold of a face you know, yet don’t at the same time.

Renegade tears make themselves acknowledged, at the most inconvenient of times, and there’s only so long you can convince Joel that it’s nothing or that of a pre-menstrual crisis starting, so he’d immediately back off.

He never pushes, never probes. And it's as equally welcome as it is frustrating at times.

Emotionally you’re a wreck and you need it to stop, or for certain realisation to bear its face to Joel. It’s been a lengthy waiting game. Teetering on the edge to realisation, although part of you already knows.

He just doesn't know how to tell you. How to break your heart. And it’s worse somehow, because he’s forcing you to do it instead.

“Ya bein’ stupid.” He says, finished with the tirade of mumbles and grunts directed at the laces, and stands.

You don’t say anything to him when he asks you to explain your odd behaviour in not so many words. Instead, you stand there, forehead propped against the mottled window, steaming up from your breath, and not facing him, sulking like a prepubescent teenager being scolded for staying out too late by an overbearing father.

You can see he’s growing testy and this irks you further. Should you finally go there, omit the truth and deal with the chips wherever they may fall? Would that even be possible?

You have to tell him what's swirling a cyclone in your mind, whether it's absurd or not, right?

His broad frame in the window reflects back at you. Stepped forward and closer now so he’s looming almost. You begin to inadvertently cower into yourself a little, arms encapsulating for warmth and reassurance, and you’re sure he’s noticed because he seems to grow in height, feeding off your inward distress. His eyes are piercing and his mouth is that thin, hard line again.

He tells you you're being stupid, but it does little to cease the heavy gnawing.

Sighing, he gathers his jacket and pack. The rifle resting on the table from cleaning it most of the early hours of the morning - and not spent in bed with you - is swept up in his hands.

He hasn't touched me in so long…

He must have observed your realisations no doubt, surely the man cannot be so blind to the plight and tension you feel when you're under his nose?

And if he took pleasure in seeing your mind switch back and forth from an aurora of amplified emotions, he certainly hid it fucking well from you.

Joel turns to you before he disappears outside the door. You cling onto a desperate hope for a moment that he’ll leave something soft to accompany you; give you some affirmative reassurance and confirm that your stupidity, is in fact, that.

But he doesn’t.

He simply shuts the door behind him and leaves you floundering. Your eyes prickle, but the tears don’t fall.

You’ve cried enough now over Joel Miller.

Your birthday arrives, the dawn spent waking up in the bed alone without Joel’s warmth suffocating you; his tan skin sticking you to him.

You can't remember the last time he was inside you. A part of you.

Despite wanting to indulge in dysania, to sink into a despair that's been riding shotgun with you for a while, you will yourself up to continue with the monotony.

The day is spent as though meandering through a blur, your body robotically doing the things you’re supposed to, but your mind not being fully coherent.

Get up, eat a little something bland, exist… and so on. It's just another day. You don't even know why you expected anything different. You're foolish for even thinking it.

Your brain ticks continuously whilst your limbs belong to those of the infected that try to ravage you any chance they get beyond the walls of the QZ.

But what about those unanswered questions and coincidences floating around the apartment and jabbing you in the temple?

Joel’s disappearing acts and seeing him weary and more dishevelled when he did eventually reappear again? It's difficult to accept that you're replaceable. That the space you once fit in has been filled by something else.

Someone else, perhaps?

Your stomach lurches and you barely make it to the bathroom before you bring up all your fears and watch in numb disgust as they flush away. Piecing it all together to make any sense is a doom filled thought.

You're tired. You've had enough. You only succeed in confusing yourself further and are rewarded with a brewing migraine. And as you throw yourself onto the bed to get some rest to quell the ache behind your eyelids, you conclude that you now utterly despise birthdays.

Confronting him has to be the only option, but bravery’s lost to you; hidden away under the dank comforter, pulled up tight over its head, refusing to surface.

You're in the shower later that evening, washing away the day, when Joel returns from the scouting run.

You hear the sounds of the door rattle and his heavy sighs, even over the water flooding your ears.

But as you come out, hair dripping down your shoulders, he’s already left abruptly again, sealing you in with once more the claws of your festive loneliness.

You make you both some supper. A few cans he’d left on the table with peeling stickers and some without. The smell turns your stomach as you stare down at two plates of uneaten food that had long since gone cold and wonder how the fuck you've got here.

It's late when he comes back, startled somewhat to find you still sitting at the table. Glancing down at the food, his eyes soften and then they find yours, vacuous and empty.

You're not even pissed at him anymore.

Before he acknowledges you, you freeze momentarily and can’t abnegate yourself from looking at him, as much as you want to avoid it. But each time you falter, his hatchet eyes are staring right back at you, sending prickles all down your back.

The comprehension is a difficult task itself, but you're fruitless in your attempt to disentangle it all, even if you aren't going to be the victor in this battle that you're bound to lose.

You're going to lose him.

Perhaps you already have. You want to remember his face, so you take it all in as he hovers by the door; a large hand twisting and groping at the knob unconsciously as it squeaks around the crush of it, a nervous tick.

He’s anxious, worried. He wants this to be quick and painless. As do you.

Even if Joel has completely no idea what's been happening, surely he had to know how this situation cuts you open, how you're bleeding onto the floor.

How can he not see it?

You feel no animosity towards him at this precise moment, which confuses you further, but more of a sense of intrusion. You aren't ready for this now that he's actually here.

Joel's reaction is unguarded and you can see him looking at you, somewhat askance, around the crinkled edges of his eyes. You soften a little and let him have a final smile from you.

Something for him to remember you by.

“I have somethin’ I wanna show ya.” He says, quietly to you.

You look at him carefully as you baulk.

“What is it?” You question, suspiciously.

“Just… c'mon.” He holds out his hand, an olive branch, and you stand.

You don't take it as you follow him out into the scabby hall where the wallpaper peels and the carpet still has that burnt umber stain of blood from decades ago.

He leads you towards the stairway, heading up them and you follow, still confused.

Once you reach the top floor of the building, and the door that leads out onto the roof, Joel slightly out of breath as he rests for a second, he instructs you to close your eyes.

“Keep ‘em closed.” He murmurs to you and you feel his hand inside yours now.

Skin on skin. It makes you audibly gasp at the warmth of his touch and you remember how he feels as it tugs the remaining strangled beats out of your heart.

Joel’s hands are always warm, even if he wields death about so freely with them. You feel his grip tighten in yours, guiding you down the stone steps out onto the roof where the cool air of the dark autumnal night pierces through your thin, moth-eaten sweater.

“You’re not planning on pushing me off the roof, are you?” You snicker. But it would be a kindness, considering.

You have your other arm out in front, feeling your way, blindly.

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.” Joel mutters. There’s a smile inside of his words; you can hear it, although his tone is hard like granite. You miss that smile.

Your feet are clumsy as you step and you wobble.

“I got ya.” He steadies you, his other hand on your hip and the feel of it makes your skin burn up in a corona. It strips you of your breath.

He stops and lets go of you completely after a few more steps.

“Y’can open ‘em now.” Joel whispers to you. You can feel his breath against your ear and it leaves you feeling warm despite the nip in their air at the new altitude on the roof.

Despite the fact that you're slowly dying.

You take a breath. A slow breath to steady your nerves. You're not sure you're ready for it. Perhaps if you can keep them closed, it will never happen.

You won't have to watch him walk away.

You can’t believe what you’re seeing when you finally open them, mentally preparing yourself for the worst.

But it's anything but. It stuns you.

The roof is lit with candles; hundreds of them, maybe even a thousand there's so many. All various sizes, thicknesses, colours and in different states of burn, casting eerie, yet brilliant shadows across the brick walls.

They trail all the way across the rooftop towards you. Flickering in the gentle night’s breeze, it invokes an immediate tranquil state within you, and the warmth emanating from this gloaming wonder is enough to stop the prickles on your skin almost instantly.

"Joel..." you murmer, perplexed.

It must have taken him ages to set this up, and you’re momentarily lost for words in the confusion that makes itself known at the back of your throat in dumb astonishment.

Joel watches as you walk amongst them, slowly taking it all in and holding your palms out to feel their warmth kissing at your fingertips.

The surprise and wonder spreads out on your face as you turn back to him in wordless disbelief.

“Made it with a few seconds to spare.” He glances at his watch, then realises it’s still broken, still a constant, crushing reminder strapped to his wrist, and then beholds you with a crooked smile melting away.

You look back at him, with a frown starting to topple your awe.

“Ya thought I forgot,” Joel confirms.

You shake your head. “No. Just thought you didn’t care about it, is all.”

He steps forward to you, the flames flickering all around you both. “I care 'bout you.”

You feel your heart stop beating for a second. “You didn’t have to do this...”

“I wanted to. I know m'a grouch and-”

“Joel. Stop talking.” The low timbre of his voice jars you. It's gentle in its gruffness. And it’s too much as your eyes well up without your control, without your say so.

“Hey,” he turns your head to him, to face him head on. His thumbs smoothing across your cheeks as you grip onto his thick wrists.

“I thought-”

“I know what ya thought. S’not gonna happen, okay?” He says earnestly and for the first time in what feels like a long time, Joel pulls those inane fears out of you and stamps on them until they’re all dead.

You nod, sniffing the tears back with all your might, but they fall in your stringent relief anyway.

“C’mere,” he crushes you into his stacked chest, the soft ebb of his heartbeat the only sound you can hear as it clears out the dusty crevices of your mind.

You pull away to marvel and feel the balminess from the candles all over your body.

“See, it’s things like this that make me believe you’re human after all,” you whisper in complete awe.

He frowns. “Ya wrong ‘bout that.”

You scoff. “Are you kidding me? Look at this, Joel. At what you did, for me. It’s... amazing. Are you seriously going to tell me that a monster would do that for someone, because I don’t believe that?”

He can see the reflection of a thousand or so candles in your eyes, twinkling back at him like glitter.

After being lost in them momentarily, he rubs up and down your arms with his hands.

“Y'don’t believe in monsters, do ya? Even when the world's full of 'em?” He questions carefully.

“Not in the slightest. People are just people.” You reply. Although some of them admittedly more fucked up than others.

“What 'bout people who do bad things?”

You look at him sincerely. And it makes more sense now. There's still a wall there. “They’re still people.”

Joel absorbs your answer, the answer you always give him when he gets like this. When he needs you to convince him there's still good in the world, because you're good.

When he feels unworthy.

“D’you believe that a man can ever be changed of his ways?” Joel asks.

“People can always change, if they really want to. Why?”

“Hypothetical question.” He replies, quickly.

“Do you really believe that you’re a monster, Joel?” You ask him carefully.

You watch as he kicks up a piece of grit on the ground repeatedly, unsure of whether he'd heard you at first.

“Y’don’t," he begins and makes his way back after losing it for a second. "Y'don't make me feel like one.” He mutters with rust in his throat.

You take his hands, those giant, calloused paws inside your own and squeeze them until he can’t feel them anymore.

He looks at you, and it bothers him more than it should do - more than he would have liked it to - the thought of you at home alone, especially on your birthday, thinking that he was going to leave you as he was filling his pack full of all the candles he could scavenge in and around the QZ.

Months of planning and keeping this from you, and you thought he was going to say goodbye. Surely that's monstrous, for him to have allowed it to get so bad.

He failed you. He made you feel unworthy. And that doesn't sit right with Joel Miller.

He watches as you stare a while at the candles, flickering in the night’s air with the inviting sound of silence to accompany you both.

No thrashing heartbeat, no thudding of blood pulsing in your ears. No static.

Just a strange peace, which has seemingly gorged on all the confusion, all the angst and fears that had been mounting within you for so long.

He goes to speak, clears his throat of the block, and then chokes on his words as he tries to assimilate them together into something coherent, something meaningful.

You turn to him sensing his unease and it equally fascinates and infuriates him that you can do that; that you can put him at ease to get them out without sounding like a bumbling fool.

You sense that what he wants to say will be relevant and would give you what you need, but you never expect him to say, in all your remotest dreams or fears:

“I love ya.”

He’s known it for a while. Felt that this was more than just two people surviving and fucking together through the dark nights to feel anything more than just pain and existing.

Joel had poked his head in the bathroom one evening, watching as you’d showered after a rough day and a close call; your body mottled with dirt and bruises and he’d felt it then.

That overpowering need to protect you. To keep the bad things at bay, even if that meant he had to do some bad things in exchange. His soul was a fair price to trade to keep you by his side. And what's love, if it's not protection?

Helping you out with a towel ready for you, bubbles splodged all up your back and glistening at him, he realised that perhaps he was falling in love with you.

He didn't want to be in love with you though. He wanted to keep you at bay, to not let you in under the layers of his skin. Not let you unravel what was left of him; a small thread wound so close to the spool.

Love would make protecting you that much more difficult.

He was never confident in negotiating all the social interactions that came with dating, especially in this world now. It was foolish to bear your heart because at any point it could be ripped away and eaten.

But with you? His heart was always on his sleeve, soaking it damp in his blood. Whatever this was between you, it felt easy somehow, like breathing.

Joel could finally breathe.

There was no choice in falling for you. And Joel never wanted to make another choice ever again.

You reach up on your tiptoes and place a gentle kiss on his mouth; revelling in the feel of his mustache and greying scruff tickling soft at your face.

A feeling that if you never got to experience again, the way it leaves lightning streaking through your blood, would kill you.

You slip your tongue into his mouth and he welcomes you in, squeezing you closer to him and groaning around your taught gums. You lick gently across his bottom lip before taking it in your teeth and pulling deep growls from him.

“M’trying to be a gentleman here, darlin’. But if y’keep doing that, I’m fuckin’ ya up against the wall.”

His breath trips up in his throat and your body soars at his warning as it rolls acrid and sharp off his tongue into your mouth, forcing you to taste his cavities. To taste his promises.

He still wants you, he’ll always want you despite your stupid neuroses.

You bite and suck his lip again deliberately, and he growls.

"Ya leavin' me very little recourse."

“I love you, Joel.” You gasp as your hands grapple and devour him just as hungrily. Breathing out like a balloon losing its helium, you pant and moan for more air; for more of him.

He’s quick, like steam; power marching you backwards and your back hits the brickwork, knocking the breath out of your lungs.

The shadows of the night dance over his hard facial features and he glows ethereal at you from the candlelight illuminating his left side. A constant ying-yang of who he is and you want both sides of him, forever.

You want the distant and the present. You want the soft and the rough. You just want him.

"Say it again" he hisses.

"I love you-"

He silences you with a swamping kiss. Joel’s wilder now; like a rabid dog drooling all over you. His hands are clawing, groping and squeezing.

Quick, desperate fingers stripping you of your jeans and unbuttoning his own at the same time; a messy blur of his hands as you stay glued to his lips and taste the notes of his tongue.

He massages the soft fat of your buttocks, malleable warm flesh in his giant hands as he kneads gently with thumbs that’ll bruise. You can feel his cock pushing hard and swollen against your slit as he moves your ass back and forth, pulling you closer to his body.

Closer to the broken fragments of his soul.

"Joel…" you whine into his mouth with pathetic need, fingers curling into the hair at his nape.

"Tell me what ya want, darlin'." He sucks on your lip and lets it go with a little squelchy pop. Lips and tongue trailing across your jaw and feasting on the skin at your throat.

"You. Always you.” You mewl mesmerised as his cock slides up against your clit; your body flinches like it’s been electrocuted. You’re crashing, falling into him and surrendering. "Need you."

"Want me inside?" He groans as you nod, lost to the heated desire that burns through your body and drips down your thighs.

"Deep. Hard." You plead. You crave his chaos, it's been so long since you tasted it. "I need you."

"I want ya." He groans.

"Have me, fuck me. Joel, just fuck me, please!"

Hungry brown eyes are pulling yours into them as his swollen head delves into your soaked lips. His stretch burns, opening you up for him again. Sliding with ease into the hilt of you, where he ultimately belongs.

"Hear that? Hear how wet ya are for me? God damn..." He teases, pulling you closer by your ass cheeks as his fat cock pushes up inside the tight channel of your cunt.

You hiss as he pulls up your leg, wrapping it around his waist as he hoists you fully up against the wall. The brickwork is rough against your skin, despite the protective layer of your sweater that grazes against it as he starts to pummel.

He loses all control with you. Can never keep his shit together as you unravel him from that spool completely.

"Fuck," you groan, biting down on your lip as he fills you. His breath leaves him in a wheeze and floods your face as he thrusts in and out; marvels at how well you always take him until he’s completely obliterated.

You can feel yourself soaring, higher into the sky as it holds its arms out for you ready to pull you in. Only he knows how to take you to this height, to this place. A place where, for a moment, only you exist, the two of you, on this bleak rooftop, surrounded by decades of carnage.

But it’s all stripped away in his groans and your pants as you feed each other your imbibed love in a world where everything dies.

In a world where physical gifts are pointless and sparse tokens of fleeting affection, he does the next best thing. Joel gives you something that he knows you’ll always want.

He gifts himself to you.

“Ain’t ever leaving ya, y’hear?” He sounds off in your ear through reckless pants and groans that suffocate on the floor below you. “M’here, always here. Fuck!” He spits. "Gonna be inside ya always, darlin'."

You grip onto him, meeting him with every shunt of his hips into yours, feeling him continuously bottom out as the light from the candles start to blind you over his shoulder.

Feeling your mind grow and body start to pull apart. Feeling the wall scuffing and blistering against your flesh and revelling in the delicious masochism it evokes as he fucks you hard agasint it.

Fucks you like he’s never letting you go.

He laments it over and over. And you believe the sincerity.

“Harder.” You beg, your fingers digging into his shoulders; your nails leaving crescent moons indented in his neck.

"Joel, fuck me harder, please. I want it all."

“That’s some big smack talk for a little lady.” He pants with a smirk.

“Joel!” You whine as he speeds up, giving you what you want so wholly and irrevocably. "Fuck! Yes!"

Your howls of insistence are stripped of any sanity or verbosity as you let go fully and gush around his cock, right to the root.

Pumping himself harder into you and hearing you scream, feeling you buck with the pleasure of it all on the end of his cock as you shake and give him the best of yourself. The parts of you that are only for him to keep.

The part where you're completely stripped back and bare, and he can see you. And you're so fucking beautiful.

And it's right there, he can see it, that love you have back for him as your eyes come unstuck from the back of your head and stare into him as you can see all of him; bruised and fleshed with vulnerability.

Watery with relief, with the fading ebbs of your pleasure. The acceptance of this piece of him he's plucked from his chest and plopped in your hands.

And it's his complete undoing.

Joel grunts out your name as he releases, giving you the final pieces of him as he fills you full of his warm, thick spend.

“Fuck…” He drones, your arms tight around the back of his neck as you slip down the wall onto jellied feet.

His hands stay on your hips, cock slippery and poking you in the belly. Sweaty forehead pressed to yours as he tells you he loves you again on a barely there whisper.

You steal another glance round at the candles, their light blinding your retinas and searing this moment into your mind forever.

You kiss him and he kisses back harder, deeper; a man ravaged of affection, yet he still has small, bloodied parts of him left to share with you. Even if it fucking terrifies him.

“Happy birthday, darlin’,” Joel whispers.

You don’t need to blow out the candles and make a wish.

You’ve already got everything you want, right here, in your arms.

Thank you so much for reading this lil' birthday fic of mine! 🎉 Re-blogs & comments are always appreciated & fuel me. 🖤

MASTERLIST | JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST

#jett's birthday #joel miller #joel miller tlou #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us #the last of us fic #pedro pascal joel miller #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #jett's pedro boys

[avastrasposts]

A Baker's Dozen - Eleven**

A collection of fun and fluffy one shots set in the same bakery. Twelve Pedro boys, twelve stories, twelve recipes.

Hello!

The second to last visitor to the bakery is here and I can hardly believe it! Eleven weeks of Pedro boys have flown past and I've had so much fun with them!

So before we get started with number eleven, this series was meant to be all fluff, but then this Pedro boy arrived and just really got out of hand and I had nothing to do with it, he just took over!

So I had to ask my friend @morallyinept if I could use her very handy Scoville Smut Rating to issue some warnings. Thank you, Jett!

Series Master List

This chapter is rated:

🌶 - "Don't hurt me, cadejo." 

Scoville Level 15,000. The Donis Cadejo Hot Sauce. (Buy the sauce here) The story contains mildly spicy smut. Tingles left on your tongue.

The week’s been slower than usual, as it always is in February, post-holiday blues setting in, everyone trying to be extra healthy and save some money. No time to be indulging in sweet things. Your shop does fine though, planning and prepping for Valentine’s Day and the upcoming wedding season. 

But the slower hours in the shop makes you take note of the black car that’s been parked across the street all day. Nothing odd about that, but there’s also been someone sitting in the car all day. You’ve been glancing over as you go about your business, studying the man behind the wheel as he makes notes and phone calls, focused on something further down the street, out of your view. From the way he’s dressed, a crisp, well ironed, pale blue shirt, you’re guessing he’s an agent for some agency, or maybe a very well dressed private eye. He’s not doing a very good job though, he sticks out like a sore thumb on this street of small businesses. When he glances over at you just before noon, you give him a quick smile, to hide the fact that you’ve been staring at the way he’s been rubbing his large hand over his chin for the past five minutes. He locks eyes with you, surprise flitting across his face, before he gives you a crooked smile in return. 

This is the beginning of a dance; you glance over to find him looking at you rather than the street in front of him, you raise your eyebrows in challenge and he seems to chuckle, looking away. You study his strong nose, the dark curls brushing over his forehead as he makes more notes, and he catches you staring when he looks over, one eyebrow arching in a questioning look and you shrug with a smile, going back to the cake you’re decorating. 

It’s late in the afternoon when you notice movement in the street, a second car parking behind the first and a man getting out and walking over to the first car. Quick words are exchanged, you steal glances from the corner of your eye as you finish up an order for tomorrow. Bending down to put the order away, you hear the bell on your front door chime. 

“Hi, I thought I’d stop by and say hello properly,” the man from the car is standing in front of the counter with a small smile as you straighten up. 

“Hi,” you say, returning his smile as you take the chance to get a better look at him for the first time. He’s taller than you expected, and broad, so much broader than the side view you’ve had all day indicated. The light blue dress shirt is stretching over his shoulders and arms and you immediately decide that he must be an agent, no private eye is ever this fit, not that you have much experience, but still. 

“I just wanted to introduce myself and explain what I’m doing,” the man says, nodding over at his car on the other side of the street, “And I hope I can count on your discretion too.”

“Uuhmm, sure,” you say, looking at him as he pulls a badge from the pocket of his suit trousers, “I was kinda assuming that you’re on some sort of stake out.” 

“That obvious, huh?” the man chuckles, showing you his ID.

“Yeah, your sleek car and nice shirt gave it away a little,” you smile, “and the way you sat out there all day, I’m pretty sure every business owner on the street has spotted you.” 

“I’ll need to fix that for tomorrow then,” he smiles, “I’m special agent Dave York, I’m with the CIA, and we’ve got surveillance on an apartment further down the street. I can’t tell you what it’s about but you don’t have to worry, it’s nothing dangerous for the neighborhood.” 

“That’s good to know,” you reply, “And you’re welcome in for coffee or something to snack on whenever you want,” you thumb at the coffee machine behind you, “I’d offer delivery service but that might be a little bit too obvious.” 

He chuckles at that and you notice the dimple on his clean shaven cheek, a slight five o’clock shadow indicating that it’s been a while since he got up and shaved this morning. 

“I’d love a coffee right now, if you don’t mind,” he says and you point at the menu. 

“What’ll it be? 

“The dark roast, black, please,” he says, “You’ve got a good selection.”

“Thanks, people mainly buy bread and cakes, the coffee machine is mainly for me and a handful of regulars who like good coffee, we like trying different beans and roasts,” you throw him a smile over your shoulder as you prepare his coffee to go. 

“I’ll have to become a regular then, keep your coffee business going,” he taps his card on the machine as you hand him the cup. 

“I just realized I know who you are,” you say, the penny finally dropping, “One of my regulars, Mrs Levinson, knows your mom. Mrs Levinson bought a Lemon Meringue Pie for her a while back.” 

“Oh yeah, those two are as thick as thieves, always trying to set me up on blind dates,” he chuckles, taking a sip of the coffee, “I’ve been blaming my workload to avoid them." He raises the cup to you with a smile, “Great coffee, I’ll definitely come back."

“If I don’t spot you, I’ll know you’ve done a better job of hiding,” you tell him and he laughs, giving you a cheesy thumbs up as he leaves.

You watch him take long strides across the street to his car, the coffee still in his hand, and just as he gets in the car, he turns and looks back at you, a smile cracking across his face as he raises his hand in a wave. 

You do spot him the next day, but you are keeping an eye out for him, glancing out to see if he’s arrived. He parks a different car across the street this time, a beat up, rusty looking banger, and he’s in a ratty looking t-shirt and a beanie pulled low over his forehead. Much less ‘agent on a stakeout’ this time, but you still glance over at him from time to time, far too often in fact. And you bite back a smile when you catch him glancing over at you too, catching your eye on a few occasions as he winks. 

Half way through the day he’s relieved, and he steps out of his car, coming over to the bakery again. 

“Hi,” he says, giving you a dimpled smile as he pulls off his beanie, “Did I blend in better today?” 

“Yeah, better,” you smile back at him as he comes up to the counter, “The distressed t-shirt was a good choice.” 

“I had to dig it out from the bottom of some box left over from when I moved,” he holds up the front of it and studies the suspicious looking stain on the front, “I swear this is not my usual casual look.” 

Holding up the front has resulted in the hem of the t-shirt lifting up over the edge of his pants and you can’t help but glance down as he flashes a few inches of skin, his sweat pants sitting low on his hips. The trail of dark hair disappearing beneath the waistband has you momentarily distracted as you follow it down to- 

“I’ll take your word for it,” you say, snapping your eyes back up to his, but not before he notices, giving you a small smirk, “NIce sweatpants.” 

“Thanks,” he chuckles, “not as old as the t-shirt, but still not my best look, I promise.”

“I don’t mind that much,” you smirk back and he flashes a crooked grin, his eyebrow cocked, before he looks up at the coffee menu behind you and tilts his head to the side.

“What do you recommend today? I’m feeling adventurous,” he says, looking down at you again with a smile, “blame the sweatpants.” 

“A single espresso shot vanilla hazelnut latte with salted caramel and whipped cream on top? I usually add some cookie crumbles too,” you say and Dave’s face falls, his eyebrows pulling together in a concerned look. 

“Ah…uhh…” he stutters, rubbing his hand over his jaw, clearly looking for a polite way to decline your suggestion and you bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from laughing at his panic, but he catches the mirth in your eyes. 

“Holy shit, you’re kidding,” he gasps out, wiping imaginary sweat from his brow as you start giggling. 

“Sorry, I had to check if you’re serious about your coffee,” you wink at him as he shakes his head and puffs a relieved breath. 

“Had me worried,” he says, “I thought I’d have to drink one of those to be allowed to stay a regular.” 

“No, I think I’d have to kick you out if you did order one of those,” you smile, picking up the bag of new beans that just arrived, “Here, smell these, I just got them so I haven’t even tried them yet.” 

Dave takes a deep breath and nods with a satisfied look, “That’s nice, can I try that?” 

“Sure, I’ll make us one each. Single or double?” 

“Double, please, this stake out thing is kicking my ass,” he says, leaning against the counter as you start the process of grinding the beans. 

“Do you want some cake or something else too?” you ask, nodding at your selection. 

“No, I’m good,” he says, “It all looks really good, but not today.” He does let his eyes drift over the cakes on display though and you smile to yourself, you know the type, sooner or later he’ll cave and get something as a treat no matter how strong his resolve it. 

“Here you go,” you say, passing him his espresso, in a cup this time, “let me know what you think, if it’s good I might give it a permanent spot on the menu.” 

You both take a few sips of the coffee in silence, humming at the flavors. 

“It’s good,” Dave finally says, “Really good, I wouldn’t complain if it was a regular on the menu.” 

“I agree, I’m going to order more,” you reply, draining the cup as he pulls his wallet out of his pants. 

“Let me pay for both coffees,” he says, holding out his card, “as a thank you, for letting me come in and disturb you.” 

“You’re not disturbing, Dave,” you smile, “you can come in whenever you want.” 

“Even if I’m not on a stake out?” he asks, a small smile playing around his mouth and you feel your cheeks heat up. 

“Especially when you’re not on a stake out,” you smile back and his dimple makes an appearance as his smile widens. 

“I’ll remember that,” he says, tapping his card to pay for both coffees, “I’ll see you tomorrow though, more stake out.” 

“See you tomorrow,” you say, returning the wave he gives you as he leaves. 

He’s back the next morning, already sitting in the car as you come out into the shop to open up for the day. He looks tired, yawning big and rubbing his hand over his eyes as he leans his head against the headrest. You glance over at him while you work and serve the small morning crowd, but he doesn’t look back at you. Saying goodbye to the last customer you look over at the car again, Dave’s head is flopped to the side, mouth hanging open and eyes closed, sound asleep. The sight is adorable, the big CIA agent clearly exhausted if he’s passed out on the job. You grab your travel mug, the one you keep filled with coffee through the morning, and give it a quick clean. Filling it up with a triple espresso shot from the beans you’d had with him yesterday, you screw on the top and exit the shop. He stirs as your shoes scuff over the asphalt, jerking up as you lightly tap the window. 

“Hey, want some coffee?” you ask, holding up the travel mug and he gives you such a look of relief and gratitude that it melts your heart. 

“Thanks,” he says once he’s cranked down the window in the old car, “I’m dead here, can’t keep my eyes open.” 

“Doesn’t do you much good on a stake out,” you say, “drop off the mug when you leave, and just wave at me if you want more coffee, I’ll come over with a refill.” 

“Thanks, you’re a lifesaver,” he smiles, and you smile back, giving him a wave as you cross the street to the bakery. 

Dave stays a bit more alert through the rest of the day, and gets relieved earlier than usual. You smile when he comes into the shop. 

“Any luck with whatever you’re waiting for?” you ask as he hands you the travel mug. 

“No, and we’re running out of time, this might be a waste of resources,” he says, shaking his head and yawning widely, “I’m sorry, I was up late last night, working on this and then I couldn’t fall asleep, too much stuff on my mind.” 

“Go home, Dave,” you say, shooing him out of your shop with a smile, “You’re no good to anyone when you’re like this.” 

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” he says, “But I like our chats, makes this stake out more enjoyable than any other I’ve been on,” he suddenly looks a little bit shy as he’s half turned towards the door, a small smile as he looks back at you. 

“I like our chats too,” you say, butterflies erupting in the pit of your belly, and for a few seconds you’re just ogling each other like a couple of fools, both too shy to say anything else. Dave clears his throat, a small chuckling sound, and looks at his shoes before he glances up. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow then.” 

“See you tomorrow, Dave,” you give him a wave and a small smile, biting your lip to hold back the bigger one that’s being pushed up by the butterflies as he returns your smile and leaves. 

But the next morning you don’t see his car, or any other car that might be a covert CIA operation and you wonder if the stake out got canceled. The day passes slowly, the usual February slump slower than usual without Dave outside your window. Realizing you don’t have his number, you can only hope he’ll come back even though he’s not on a stake out. And when you finally see him the next afternoon, crossing the street at a slight jog to avoid a car, you feel yourself smiling before he’s even spotted you. When he pushes open the door he gives you a wide grin. 

“Hey, how’s it going?” he asks, coming up to the counter as you put away your phone. 

“Hi,” you smile at him, thanking your past self for changing the stained t-shirt and apron into something cuter, “I’m good, but things are slow today so I’m glad you’re here, it’s been kinda boring without the stake out to distract me.” 

He chuckles at that, looking out onto the spot where his car had been for the past three days. 

“Yeah, orders came yesterday to can it, another team has picked up a hotter lead so we’ve been working on that. But that place doesn't have any nice bakeries nearby, so it's a complete loss,” he says with a smile that makes your insides liquid. 

“So you’re actually here when not on a stake out?” you tease him and he laughs. 

“Told you I’d be back,” he says, pushing the sleeves of the sweatshirt he’s wearing up over his thick forearms and crossing his arms, scanning the coffee menu. “Should I go for another one of those nice beans, or should I be adventurous?” he asks. 

You give him a crooked smile, tilting your head like you’re assessing him and he raises an eyebrow in question at you. 

“What do you have in mind? That look is making me nervous.” 

“I’m thinking….” you begin, “the regular coffee, but…you get a snack too, one of the cakes.” 

Dave gives you a grin in response and begins to scan the cakes, “The carrot cake,” he says, pointing to one of the smallest slices covered in white cream cheese frosting.

“Good choice,” you smile, “it’s a best seller and I made it this morning.” You plate the slice and start making the coffee for him.

“It’s kinda healthy, right?” he asks, eyeing the carrot cake with suspicion, “It’s got carrots and all?” 

“I mean, it’s still got sugar and fat in it,” you chuckle, “but it’s made with vegetable oil and not butter, so there is that.” 

You bring the coffee to the counter and start making a coffee for yourself as Dave picks up the plate. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” you sputter out as you watch him scrape the frosting off the cake with the spoon, “That’s the best part!” 

“It’s just fat and sugar,” he says, putting the dollop of frosting on the side of the plate, “I’m trying to stay healthy.” 

“I don’t know what to tell you, Dave,” you smirk, “if you don’t eat that frosting on the cake like the baker intended, I don’t think this friendship is going to last.” You point to yourself and raise your eyebrows in a challenge. 

 “You know, I usually don’t eat sweet stuff, it’s the job,” he says, “I need to stay fit for it.” He’s toying with the cake, the intonation heavy on the 'eat'. He's not looking at you, but there’s a smirk playing around the corners of his mouth. 

“So indulge a little, it’ll be worth it,” you smile and he looks up at you, his smirk suddenly changing into something more challenging as he seems to evaluate you in silence for several long seconds.

“Only if you’re on the menu,” he says, his dark eyes pinning you in place while he runs his tongue over his bottom lip, “Are you on the menu?” 

The question is direct as he slowly raises his eyebrows, the intention clear.

You feel your brain grind to a halt, Dave’s dark brown eyes are boring into you as you slowly inhale, you feel like he’s flicked a switch and turned on his professional side, but he’s not using it to interrogate you. Instead he’s using it to put pressure on you, to get you to tell him what you want. 

What he wants. 

Glancing down at the plate still in his hand, he swipes his finger through the frosting and slowly rounds the counter, coming up to where you’re still standing frozen by the coffee machine. 

“Are you?” he says, repeating his question and slowly bringing his finger to his mouth, sucking the frosting off with a pop. 

The tip of your tongue comes out to lick across your top lip and Dave glances down at your mouth, following the movement. Taking a step closer, he’s almost touching you now, you can feel the scent of his cologne wash over you as his eyes come back up to yours. 

“I’d really like it, if you were on the menu,” he says, his voice low and dark, “but if you’re not, tell me, and I’ll leave.” 

You swallow, still transfixed by his dark eyes on you, the way he’s looking at you, like he’s trying to read you and succeeding. You slowly nod your head yes. 

Dave inhales softly, putting down the plate, “Use your words. Tell me I can kiss you,” he says, the frustration clearly thrumming just below the surface of his low tones as his breath skates across your cheek, his hands hovering just inches from your body, ready to grab as soon as you give him permission, “You’ve been driving me fucking crazy all week but I couldn’t do anything.” 

A shiver runs through your body, your hand shaking as you put your coffee cup down, slowly putting both your hands on the front of his gray t-shirt, feeling the bunched up muscles flex under your palms as you slide them up to his shoulders. Dave is watching you intently, a small crease between his eyebrows, his fingers twitching by your waist. 

“Not here,” you say, dropping your hands to your sides, and side stepping him. He turns as you slip out past him, quickly walking the front door and locking it, flipping the ‘Back in five minutes’ sign. When you turn back, he’s still standing by the coffee machine and you pass him. 

“Less nosy neighbors in here,” you say, holding out your hand to him. 

He reacts in a heartbeat, taking your hand and crowding you as he pushes you further into the kitchen, out of sight. He lets go of your hand and grabs your waist, the other landing on your neck, his large hand easily spanning across it and up, cupping your cheek as he walks you backwards. The cool metal of the walk-in fridge hits your back and Dave’s towering over you, bending his face down so that his strong nose brushes against yours, his eyes almost black under his eyebrows, pulled together tight, and the hand at your waist bunching up your shirt. 

“Now?” he husks and you nod. 

“Yes, now.” 

His mouth is hot when it reaches yours in a flash, he’s pushing you further up against the fridge as he angles his head to have more. There’s an edge of desperation to the way he holds you. The hand on your cheek keeps you where he needs you as he licks the seam of your lips. When you part them, his tongue is eager and needy, a groan escaping from somewhere deep inside of him and you pant into his mouth as his sounds fire up your brain. Heat shoots through your body like rocket fuel ignited, the cool metal behind you a sharp contrast to the solid warmth of Dave’s body in front when he pulls you closer with his hand on your waist, tugging you into him. 

It’s messy, tongues and teeth fighting for control, your hands in his hair, his thick fingers grabbing your neck, his thigh between your legs. There’s no hiding the arousal coursing through you both as you moan at the way he rubs over your core, his low groans mixed in when he rolls his hard length into your hip. 

He tangles his fingers into your hair, pulling back your head and trailing wet kisses across your throat, sucking a mark into where shoulder meets neck, moving up again, his teeth gently tugging on your earlobe before you gasp when he nips at the soft skin just underneath. 

“I’ve been fucking dreaming about how you’d sound when I did this,” he growls when you moan loudly into the silent kitchen, “sound so pretty, so fucking sweet.” His hand on your waist tightens, he’s pulling you down onto his leg, rocking into you as you clamor for a grip, tugging at his hair, loud, satisfied groan coming from Dave. 

“I wanna hear what you sound like when you come,” he mutters, moving his mouth up to yours again, biting your bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth, tongue coming out to caress it, taste it, before he lets go.

Pulling back a little, he looks down at you. You meet his dark eyes, lust clouding them as you gasp at the way his thick thigh creates just enough friction to make you convulse under his firm grip. 

“So fucking sweet,” he mumbles, a tone to his voice like he’s been craving this, “always looking at me from the bakery, always smelling so good, so tempting. Been wanting to do this since the first day, just get you in here and make you come all over my leg, hear you say my name.” 

You try to unscramble your brain, it’s hazy with arousal, the coil that he’s wound so tightly about to snap. But all you can feel is the tell tale tingling that’s started in your core and you close your eyes, the feeling radiating out from where his thigh rubs against you. 

“No, keep them open for me, baby,” Dave growls, “keep your eyes on me,” his voice forcing you to look up at him as it hits. 

“Dave…” you gasp, “Pl-please, Dave…” 

It shoots through your system like electricity, your legs closing around his, your skin burning as he kisses you, swallowing down your cries of his name as he keeps moving his leg, working you through the high until your muscles finally relax. 

He holds you up, his arm around your waist now, as his kisses soften. Soft movements across your lips, his tongue gently teasing yours until he pulls back a little, pressing his lips against yours, foreheads touching as you take a deep breath and you can feel him smile against you.

He moves his leg back, bending down and grabbing hold of your thighs, picking you up like you weigh nothing. With your arms around his neck, you hold on until he sets you down on the workbench, his hard erection is pressed tight between you but he seems to ignore it. 

“You ok?” he asks quietly, bending down and pressing a small kiss to the side of your neck, “seemed like you needed that.” His chuckle is low and amused as you sigh deeply. 

“That’s how you indulge?” you ask, caressing the back of his head, raking your fingers through his thick hair. 

“Better for your body than that carrot cake,” he smirks, pulling back a bit so that he can look at you while he cups your jaw and strokes his thumb over cheek. 

“I told you, this friendship won’t last if you don’t eat the frosting,” you give him a small smile, your body still humming. 

Dave gives you a smug look, “I don’t want your friendship, I want your frosting,” he says with a grin, tugging gently at your chin so that he can press his lips to yours and slip his tongue inside before your addled brain can come up with a comeback. 

The kiss is languid and slow, Dave takes his time, holding you back as you try to pull him closer, your hands still in his hair. After several long minutes he reaches up and untangles your fingers and pulls them down to your sides. 

“I’m leaving now,” he says against your mouth, his lips brushing over yours, “And I want you to be good. I have to go take care of something on that case. Close the shop when you’re done, go home, I’ll come by later.” There’s a promise in his low tone, in the way he nips at your bottom lip one last time and his fingers dig into your hips as he moves around your neck.

“Listen,” he whispers, his mouth close to your ear, “I’m not done with you yet.” 

Part Twelve

Series Master List

Ok, so that got spicier then intended right? I don't know what to say, Dave just stepped in and took over.... blame him or thank him!

For the cake, this recipe uses pecans but I prefer walnuts but you can also leave them out if you want too. But it really is a very good cake...

Taglist: @harriedandharassed @inept-the-magnificent @sheepdogchick3  @readingiskeepingmegoing @noisynightmarepoetry @survivingandenduring @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @oberynslady @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @thewiigers  

#pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #dave york #dave york x reader #hot damn!

[grogusmum]

Hey Lovely Hazel! 🖤

Happy Saturday evening to you and sending lots of love your way!

I'm here to challenge you with Pedro Boy ficlet, let's see now... let's go for Dieter!

He's excited!

Love you! 🖤

Thank you my darling Jett! I hope you are having a good Saturday! 💚

Okay, this is connected to another lil 300-word doodad I wrote soon after The Bubble came out.

I got carried away, I had some of this worked out before, so a 300-500 word thing turned into 1300 oops!

Dieter was excited. He was trying to keep his cool, but it had been weeks since he had seen his sweet pea! But this time, he notices someone else... you.

🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐

“I was wondering if you could help me with something.”

Anika looks up expectantly.

“Do you have the number for the therapy animal people?”

In his suite, Dieter looks around at the mess, turning a circle at the center of the room. The paint, the drugs, wine and liquor bottles, his clothes, KitKat wrappers. The only area clean is the space set aside for his fitness mirror, which he looks at sheepishly, then throws a towel over it. 

Pressing his lips together as he makes his decision, he gets to work. He cleans up the most offending messes, then calls housekeeping for new sheets and towels, and a bathroom clean up and vacuuming, before heading back to the lobby to meet with the goat lady.

Dieter had called right away, and asked about Skipper, and if he could book another session with him. The woman he spoke with was very kind. She was the main trainer and creator of the therapy program, she explained it ran out of a larger farm owned by her family. She wished aloud that he could come to the farm, he would get an earlier slot… Dieter told her he would happily pay any fee for expediting his session. She relented, telling him she remembered how he connected with Skipper and she thought he could miss the next group and go to visit Dieter. She would bring him herself.

You drive your jeep since it's just one small animal, Skipper bleats quietly back in his crate. Thinking back to the day at the hotel, Dieter's reaction to the baby goat was not entirely unusual, especially these days. But you felt for him, it seemed like he was releasing a lot. So you weren't surprised to get his call. He had offered an exorbitant amount of money, but you told him you'd gladly accept an additional fee, but that his offer was far too much. You thought, sure it's a business and it has to keep making money but it is for helping people. And he seemed to need it.

Before you know it you are on the grounds, at the gate you show your credentials, get the Covid rapid test, and the safety protocols spiel. You park, pull a large duffle out of the backseat, and put Skipper on a leash. You let him relieve himself, then put a water bowl down so he can have a drink before getting to work.

You look up at the front doors and you see Dieter watching, his body language tells you he is excited but trying to be patient.  

Skipper finishes his water break and you start up the gravel drive toward him.

Dieter has been practicing his spiel to convince you to sell Skipper to him. He doesn't know if he's going to pull the trigger on it, but he wants to be ready. 

You put on your mask and approached the actor. 

"Mr Bravo, nice to see you again."

"Hey, uh, hi," Dieter says looking a little needy. 

You don't usually do this, but since its one on one, you hand him the leash.

Dieter lights up like a Christmas tree, so different from the first time. He starts talking to Skipper as the three of you walk to the side lawn-

"Hey Sweet Pea! I'm so glad you're back. I've missed you." 

He gets ahead of you so you can't quite make out all he says. But it's animated and happy.

Skipper was still determining where he was going but he likes to be with you, so having you on his own was exciting. When he was taken out of the jeep he recognized where he was a little. The smell, the cobblestones. He saw you look toward the big building so he looked to… was that the Fluffy Guy? 

It was. Well, he needs all the help he can get from what Skipper could see. 

The goat looked from you to Dieter as you passed the leash to him. 

Is this wise, mama? he thought. 

"...I've missed you." 

It's okay, guy. I'm here, what are we doing today?

"I really want to adopt you… but I don't know if the therapy woman will let me."

This is nothing new, pal. Everyone wants to adopt me…

Skipper bleats up at Dieter and Dieter is beside himself. He sits down on the grass and starts to pet Skipper's flank. You soon catch up and sit down with him. When you've both settled, Skipper climbs onto Dieter's lap. The man's eyebrows lift and his mouth is a small "o". Then his eyes get wet. As Dieter tries to pull himself together, you put a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"I'm going to go over and sit on the patio. Mr. Bravo, you be you, talk to Skip, and if you want to cry, cry. This is what he is here for."

Dieter gives a grateful nod and hugs Skipper, the goat bleats happily. 

"Would you want to live with me?" Dieter wonders. "No, why would you… fffu- sorry Sweet Pea, I shouldn't curse. I just, it's only-"

Dieter growls in frustration. Skipper bleats and twists his head to see him.

You watch from the patio, Dieter's body language has changed, so you stand. 

“Mr Bravo, is everything alright?”

Dieter lets out a breath, continuing to scratch the kid’s rump.

“I want to buy Swe- ah Skipper. I’ve really never- I don’t know I just- I will pay you anything!”

“Mr Brav-”

“Dieter, please, call me Deiter.”

“Dieter”, you say gently, putting an equally gentle hand on his arm. “I am not going to sell you Skipper, I’m very sorry.” 

His crest-fallen face pulled at your heart. 

“Okay let's do this-” You open your duffle bag and pull out two yoga mats. “Do you do any yoga, Mist- I mean Dieter?”

Dieter shrugs, his pout makes you smirk, a man who is used to getting what he wants if he throws enough money at it, but he does stand and assume a stance with his legs shoulders width apart. Skipper knows the drill, he did the moment you unfurled the mats- he loves goat yoga!

Soon enough Dieter is giggling as Skipper insinuates himself in all of Dieter's poses. But far from getting in Dieter's way or anything, Skipper finds where he needs to balance, and its not unlike getting a massage at the same time, as Skipper’s hooves dig into knots. But Dieter was starting to be taken by you as well, your quiet praise, and with a completely unnecessary request for permission to touch him, some hands-on adjustments to some of his poses. Soft and warm but also assertive, you touched his hips shoulders, and back with assured purpose. 

After some water and downtime, Dieter paints with Skipper in his lap, and finally, you hand him a stiff bristle brush to groom Skipper with.

Yes, fluffy Guy! My favorite!! Now just let me nibble your fluff and we are golden.

Dieter brushes the little goat and you and he chat idly. 

Dieter feels fantastic, but sad, as you leash Skipper and hoist your bag over your shoulder. You decline when Dieter offers to take it and hand him the lease. His boyish grin gives you a little jolt of something, you aren't quite sure about. He’s handsome, and you truly enjoyed your time with him today, but you’ve seen the articles - he is a walking Hollywood disaster story… but-

He reluctantly hands you the lease as you come to the jeep. 

“Thank you,” his voice is low and quiet, “That was- that was amazing.”

“You and Skip did some great work together.”

“You were great too.”

Why is heat rising in your cheeks? Skipper looks up curiously at you and if goats could smirk, he would.

“Thank you.”

“How much would it cost to convince you to come once a week?” 

🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐

thanks for this ask, Jett! It kind of kicked my butt in gear to get this little thing out of my WIPs, for good or bad. lol 💚

#slumber party saturday #dieter and skipper the goat #dieter bravo #dieter x you

[milla-frenchy]

For @the-blind-assassin-12 march fic madness challenge these are the fics I reblogged this month - by character, then by chronological order

Thanks to the writers 🙏🙏🙏

Joel

Between two lungs @ozarkthedog

Joel humping his bed @ozarkthedog

Cockwarming Joel @aurorawritestoescape

The worst @toxicanonymity

Enjoy the silence @strang3lov3

Plushies x Piss Kink crossover @pedge-page

Sleepy Joel @ghotifishreads

Like it's the last time @aurorawritestoescape

It's hard @toxicanonymity

Untitled @ozarkthedog

Sunrise @5oh5

Joel dealing with preggo wife - Hold it @pedge-page

Sun is going down @janaispunk

Statement @pedge-page

Dirty sexy money @aurorawritestoescape

The wall @toxicanonymity

Stranger in a bar @justagalwhowrites

Wet nights @shellshocklove

At the table @toxicanonymity

Shared room @pedge-page

Happy one year, baby @mermaidgirl30

Puppy lessons @pedge-page

You're in trouble, doll @talaok

Sunshine pt 26 @kewwrites

Perfect strangers part 2 @aurorawritestoescape

Knuckles deep @ozarkthedog

Thirst for beauty @psychedelic-ink

Ensnare @ozarkthedog

Busted and sleeping beauty @toxicanonymity

Breath by breath @ozarkthedog

Run rabbit @mermaidgirl30

Lovers on the run @aurorawritestoescape

Javi

Touch @morallyinept

Baby, I'm-a want you (session 2) @perotovar (Javi x Joel)

Free use orgy with the Narcos boys @flightlessangelwings (Javi x reader x Steve x Horacio)

Nothing's gonna hurt you baby @stylesispunk

Frankie

It's not you @ariundercovers

Push & shove @ozarkthedog (Frankie x reader x Santi)

Acts of service @swiftispunk

Ezra/Marcus

One condition @pedroshotwifey (Ezra x reader x Marcus)

Lucien

The party @aurorawritestoescape

Moaning, panting @iamasaddie

Like a moth to a flame @ozarkthedog

Lucien's chains drabble @ozarkthedog

Din Djarin

They'll find you, burn you @corazondebeskar

Thomas Hewitt (Leatherface)

The spread @toxicanonymity

Billy Boyd

Sunset @aurorawritestoescape

Bonus: Art

Jett's doodles lil' Pedro boys @morallyinept

Raider!Joel trailer @carminepoison

[nerdieforpedro]

🦴

🍓

🥤

Please!

🦴 = a piece of media that inspires my writing?

Not really one set piece. More like music in general does. I often listen to lofi beats when writing or my writing playlist to set the mood of what I’m trying to write. Or it could be music I’m listening to in the car or waiting somewhere could lead to some bullet points that become a fic. 😆

🍓= what led me to write fanfic in the first place?

Going deep here aren’t you Em? 👀 lol I’ve enjoyed writing since I was little as an extension of my love of reading. First with poems and the anime fanfiction when I actually watch more anime. Now I read more manga and don’t write fanfiction about it. If one squints on A03 - I may have dabbled in Marvel characters and actors for a short time. 🫢 The took a long pause as life happened. Sometime last year as my mental health improved so did my love of writing and I hyper focused on Pedro Pascal so here we are. 🤣 I write more the better my mood is. Maybe a bit too much background 😵

🥤= recommend and author or fic you love

Ugh just one? Dammit. 😒 I shall not! I’ll do eight because there are no favorites! Only peeps we support! And I can’t really call any of them number one I enjoy them all too much. 🥰

1. @morallyinept Pretty much anything you read of Jett’s will be beautiful, sensual, take you to a far away place or have needing to remove clothing - possibly from reading the same fic. 😆 She covers a wide variety of Pedro characters and is a wealth of knowledge on them. She also is just really talented and sweet.

2. @maggiemayhemnj Sure Ms. Payday doesn’t have a long Masterlist but every fic on there is worth reading for her turns of phases, vivid descriptions and her love of both Joel and Ezra. 💕

3. @megamindsecretlair One of my fellow black writers who keeps readers thirsty and eager for more with her Sam, Bucky and Loki series (all of which I need to catch up on or finish 👀) and is a hilarious person as she is kind.

4. @soft-girl-musings Another fellow black writer who’s “Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps” 1920’s or 40’s (I’m not great with telling time obviously 🙄 ) has me wondering what’s going to happen next, what is going on in that club and where else am I going to see curly haired Marcello is going to pop up at. 🤣

5. @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin The Mistress of Agnst. Her masterlist is for those who aren’t afraid to explore the darker side and stories that may not have happy endings but you’ll still feel satisfied that to finished it. To feel another type of satisfaction, you’ll need to read her smut and seek your other completion there. ☺️ You’ll be thankful for both rides.

6. @pedroshotwifey A newer moot to me who has equal parts smut, agnst and dabs of darkness in there. What can I say? I like dark fics if they’re just right. Like I like my crime dramas and cop procederals. 🤣 She and I have a good time supporting each other and exchanging thots. Her “To The Flame” series has set the reader up for what may be a spectacular fall or maybe she’ll find her way out? Only she knows.

7. @magpiepills Ezra’s second wife (because @morallyinept is his first wife and I think @maggiemayhemnj is the paramour - because it sounds fancy) The amount of filthy things she’s had him do both with one arm and two is something everyone should read twice. I also especially enjoyed her fic “Aquarius” which a whore version of Javier Peña that spoke strongly to me. Or maybe parts of me, let’s not split hairs. 🤭

8. @angelofsmalldeath-codeine She’ll say she’s not a writer. BUT as all writers know, we don’t do very well if someone isn’t reading stuff we toss out into the ether. Hemmy is as supportive as they come, reblogging and offering many a thot as both the High Chancellor of the Horny Delegation and as a friend. ❤️ Plus she supports my very soft bois Dieter and Javi G. 😆 She I think was one of the main reasons I wrote more of “Weddings 101 with Dieter.” She asked me something along the lines of, “is there more to this? This is a very cool or unique premise.” As she well knows, just tell me I did something well and I’m happy as a pearl in a clam. 🤣

Fanfic author ask game

Thanks for the ask Em! Just know I pretty much write paragraphs because I gotta explain. 🤭 I’m Nerdie and I’m wordy. 😚 I had to make one bad joke. You have to be able to tell it’s me.

#fanfic authors #fanfic author ask game #fanfiction #such fun #i wanted to make sure I answered as best I could #there’s so many more writers I could mention #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction

[rhoorl]

Week in Review | Oct. 1

Happy October! This month is a really special month for me personally (more on that later). It marks three months on Tumblr! I’m approaching a pretty significant follower milestone (for me) which is really cool. I try to not pay attention to numbers because that’s stressful and I'm trying to treat this as my fun space (and me time), but this milestone made me pause and think about the little community I’ve found here and how special it is to me. To anyone who has left a comment, reblog, like, ask, or message - thank you! You’ve brought some laughter and smiles to my days. My inbox is always open so if you want to say hi please do!

Anyway, here we go with the week in review… 

Fics I read this week:

Frankie Morales

The Pilot and His Girl by @avastrasposts - I don't want to spoil what happens in the latest chapter but ahhhh this series is just so so good. But seriously, pack some Kleenex for Chapter 33.

Grocery List by @frenchiereading - I love everything in the Mr. Morales and Miss universe. This is just such cute Frankie fluff.

Delta Palms Tropical Resort by @linzels-blog - You know I love a Triple Frontier AU and I’m so excited to see all of the goings on at the resort run by the boys!

Joel Miller

Body Language by @cupofjoel- Joel shows up at your place with a camcorder and some fun ensues…

Happy Birthday by @trulybetty - Needless to say Joel had a very good birthday this year based on some of the fics I added to my TBR list. However this fic right here?! I was a mess after the first freaking sentence - soft smut is your specialty friend!!

Another entry from @linzels-blog this time in the way of some cute Joel fluff when he attends a parent-teacher conference. 

Javier Peña

It's Never Too Late by @javierpena-inatacvest - I was seriously smiling the whole time I read this latest chapter. If you’re looking for a softer Javi (who is still spicy, can’t take that part out of him), then this is such a great read!

What Do We Have Here? by @secretelephanttattoo - We get a little more insight into what Javi’s relationship with Elisa could have been like. I loved all of the references to the show.

Drenched by @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin Javi comes home from work sweaty (hello sweaty curls sticking to the back of his neck) and he and reader both end up drenched. 😉

Marcus Pike

Headshots by @secretelephanttattoo - Reader is a photographer tasked with taking headshots at the FBI office.  Marcus is so freaking cute in this. 

Dieter Bravo 

Destiny & Deliverance by @mysterious-moonstruck-musings is a staple on this list and the only Dieter fic I’m consistently reading at the moment. Sounds like we may need to form a support group based on what may be happening in the upcoming chapters, but I am ready.

Fun Posts

Dieter and @morallyinept were back this week dishing out some self-care advice. I seriously love the way Jett puts these posts together, they make me laugh and think.

I shared some of my favorite things on this post, which also included some photos I've taken.

Feral corner:

Joel’s birthday coupled with photos of Pedro on the picket line kept the feral corner well occupied this week. I mean, look at him. I don't even care how he ties his shoes because he's adorable no matter what.

I found there’s a name for the affliction that I and many of us suffer from - Chronic Pascalitis. There are ways to lessen the symptoms, although do you really want that?

Also, the Pike Puddle is getting deeper thanks to posts like this and like this.

Can we also appreciate how beautiful this photo of Pedro is from earlier this year when we appeared on Seth Meyers' show?!

Things I watched:

I started watching this show on Max called Mosaic featuring Garrett Hedlund. It’s been interesting so far, I’m only about halfway through. There was an episode where looked like Benny and I about lost my damn mind.

Personal Update

This month is a really special month for me personally - my daughter was born in October, we rescued our dog in October, and we got married in October. Needless to say, there’s a lot to celebrate but it also has me in my feels as I sit back and reflect on a lot of things.

The past two years and the transition to becoming a mom has been hard and I’m a work in progress on that front every single day. But we've made it and I'm pretty lucky to have the independent, fearless, and hilarious little girl that I do.

My parents have been in town for the past couple of days to celebrate my daughter’s birthday. As a result, my husband and I get to take advantage of some free babysitting help and are doing a little overnight trip. It’s an early anniversary present for us to stay at one of the on-site hotels at Universal and go to Halloween Horror Nights for the night. Yay I get to see Joel and the TLOU house again!

Aside from that, we have some fun things planned this week. I’m excited for the weekend when I get to go see A Strange Way of Life in theaters! I’ll be sure to include a spoiler-free review here next week!

Fic updates:

I should have the next chapter of Working Title out soon. Thank you to those who have listened to me rant and ramble on about it. I’ve been struggling with the latest chapter. Once I get that out then I’ll work on Delta Landscaping - Will and Katie go on their date, but we also have Friday night plans for the others too. I also shared a little tease about a new neighbor coming to Mule Fall Court.

Thanks as always for reading my ramblings, I hope you have an awesome week!

#rhoorl week in review #rhoorl #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal fanfic

[jksprincess10]

Aidan! 🎉🎉🎉 Congrats on your milestone, lovely, so well deserved!! 🎉🎉🎉 You're such an amazing person and I'm so happy for you! 🥰

To celebrate, please may I request 🖤 with my fav Pedro boy which is Ezra, of course. And I'd love the prompt 7. Is there space left in that bathtub?

No rush, take your time. Love you! 🖤🎉

A/N: Jett !!! Thank you!! I loved writing this Ezra ficlet, I hope you love it.

CW: canon divergent, dirty talk, fingering.

Participate in my 2.4K followers celebration!

You sighed happily as your naked body descended in the water. Only to be almost immediately bothered by Ezra bursting into the room unannounced.

“Is there space left in that bathtub, birdie?”

You looked up at him, at his body covered in mud and various substances, and you cringed.

“No. You’re too dirty.”

“I thought you enjoyed my sullied self.”

You felt heat rush to your face and looked away as Ezra undressed.

“Besides, we should ration the water. You’re being incredibly selfish, birdie.” He tutted.           

You made space for him, reluctantly, and felt his body take place behind yours. He wrapped an arm around you.  You could already feel his semi-hard cock on your lower back.

“You’ll make the water brown.” You mumbled.

“Apologies.” He said, but you had a feeling he wasn’t sorry. Distracted, Ezra’s fingers grazed your nipples until they hardened. Your back against his chest arched in a beautiful feline-like curve. “See? You love when I’m dirty.”

You whimpered at his equally dirty words, and his hand traveled south, until it found what it was looking for. With the tips of two of his calloused fingers, he circled your clit.

“Ezra…” You warned.

The curve of his nose caressed your neck. “Yes?” He breathed, and you could hear the stupid smirk in his voice. He kept going with his caresses in slow, lazy fingers.

“Faster.” You let out.

“Tell me how much you adore my dirty self, then.”

You groaned in frustration and bucked your hips against his touch, begging for more. Ezra made a disapproving noise, and you felt his free hand hold your throat gently.

“Say it.” He repeated sternly.

“I love when you’re dirty, Ezra.” You panted, and you were immediately rewarded with fast-paced rubs on your bud of pleasure, and with two of his fingers added inside you.

“There you go, birdie. That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” He said playfully as he bit the skin of your neck.

#ezra prospect #jksprincess10 celebration #ezra x reader #ezra smut #ezra ficlet #ezra (prospect) #ezra x you #ezra x yn #pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #ezra #prospect

[sp00kymulderr]

5th Nov.

This week has been fucking weird. I don't want to go in to detail but the mental health was not it. But then the last couple days have been ??? oddly good. Thanks a lot to this place, this community. Idk. I'm not much of a good at talking to people person but there's just something about people in this fandom that makes life feel alright. I'm obsessed w you guys honestly 💕

I didn't do much this week. I got ghosted. I went to a Rammstein tribute. I ran around the park with my nephew. I had a shit few days at work but what's that but normal right now?

I've read some good good stuff this week.

Who would I be without mentioning into the beat of the night chapter one - transmission by @perotovar - one chapter in and this fic is already everything to me ❤️

Every Colour Illuminates by @the-blind-assassin-12 was a beautiful way to start my week off, a gorgeous read.

Not a fic, but this Self Care with Dieter & Jett post really put me on a good track after some bad days. Thank you @morallyinept

And because I didn't post my recs last week I have have to mention two fics by @covetyou which changed me fundamentally: Send in the Clown

open hand or closed fist would be fine (I'm reading the rest of swat now and um wow 😮)

Lo, how can i convince you to write a bravo the clown fisting fic?!?!

I actually posted quite a lot this week??? somehow??? The notes are shockingly low and tbh I nearly deleted one of these the day after posting but I am resisting and trying to remain proud that I even wrote anything.

I finally posted Our House of Flames pt 3 - Afterburn which I my ongoing 4 part Joel series. Great if you like grief and misery and guilt lmao.

Put up chapter one of Lucida Sidera, my Ezra series featuring my first original character! This fic is an update of something I first plotted and posted in 2019 and has a special place in my heart.

And I also posted these Pedro boy gender and sexuality headcanons!

Tomorrow I have a job interview…I'm not sure how I feel about it yet, but I do need a new job and this one helps me stay in a similar position to what I'm in now. The rest of the week is lacking in any plans bc I’m boring, but I'll definitely be back at the gym and I'm starting a new program so maybe I'll get back into heavy deadlifts since I haven't done any in a few weeks!

Also writing, with hopes to publish a dirty Joel oneshot and possibly a Dieter thing if I can get my act together!

Love you guys. Thanks for the things you do. You're incredible 🩷✨🩷✨

#beating the Sunday scaries #week in review

[morallyinept]

Trick Or Treat? - A Dark!Frankie Morales x Dark!Joel Miller x Dark!Dave York Halloween One Shot 🎃

Summary: It's Halloween and you're settling in for a creepy night alone with a scary movie, when three masked intruders break in. And they have more tricks than treats in mind for you. 🎃

Pairing: Dark!Frankie Morales x Dark!Joel Miller x Dark!Dave York x F!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. It's you, bub.)

Word Count: 10.5k ish - 'Issa long one. Better grab some spooky snacks. 👻

Scoville Smut Rating: 🌶🌶🌶 "You tell me I'm doing well, and then, you try to kill me."

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here

Explicit: DARK/DDDNE/implied noncon/implied dubcon/CNC/free use/anything goes/implied forced/established relationship/unprotected PIV (wrap up, folks!)/squirting/anal play/restraint/dirty talk/derogatory/some mild degradation/some mild assault in the form of slaps, scratching, biting/jump scares/mentions of clowns & a clown mask image below the cut - eh, some people hate 'em. Dave York comes with his own warning. 🥴

NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ. ☝🏻Don't come at me; you've been plenty warned.

Author's Note: Happy Halloween!! 🎃 I'm fully aware that this might not be for everyone, and that's totally fine. You can just move on quietly if it's not for you. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.

Couldn't think of any better trio of Pedro Boys to mess with you on Halloween, other than Frankie, Joel & Dave.

Enjoy! 🖤🎃

MASTERLIST

The lounge is dimly lit. 

Shadows curated from the trenches of nightmares claw across the walls as you perch on the edge of your worn-out couch, crowded with the mass invasion of mis-matched cushions. 

The eerie glow from the flat screen casts an otherworldly pallor upon your face, accentuating the nervous flicker around your eyeballs that are wide with bulging scleras; watery white orbs in the dark.

The room is drenched in an unsettling silence, broken only by the haunting soundtrack of the horror movie slashing its way across your screen, from which you can’t tear away your fixed gaze. 

Every creak of the house, every groan in the walls, sends fleeting shivers down your spine as you clutch one of the cushions tightly, pulled further into the chilling world of the movie. 

It's Halloween night and the bowl, brimming full of sugared candy treats for the Witching Hour to begin, is resting languidly on the coffee table ready for the barrage of trick-or-treaters bound to harangue you all night long. Until you stop answering the door and devour them all for yourself. It always happens. 

But, as you watch the movie, engrossed in the suspenseful carnage that is about to erupt, slowly bringing mouthfuls of warm, buttery homemade popcorn up to your mouth, you start to regret it.

You always do this to yourself; cue the manic paranoia afterwards, lying in bed and getting freaked out by strange noises rattling around in the house. Turning the light off and running up the stairs really, really fast so a crazed, masked killer - that is purely a figment of your over active imagination, whose just endured copious hours of jump scares - doesn't get you.

As the movie’s tension mounts, so too does your own. Your heart races in sync with the frantic, heavy beats of the ominous bass that vibrates in through your toes. Fear creeps up your spine with icy tendrils, constricting your chest with each suspenseful twist. 

A young Jamie Lee Curtis is running for her life across the screen; a giant man in a boiler suit and waxy mask wielding a kitchen knife is chasing her, and you're yelling at her to run.

Run bitch!

You're invested wholly in the terror of the movie. Your fingernails leave crescent imprints on the fabric of the cushion you clutch, as if they could anchor you to reality amidst the growing dread that consumes you. 

The room’s shadows deepen, feel heavier somehow in the darkest corners and seem to slink and shift in the periphery of your vision. Your mind plays tricks on you, conjuring grotesque shapes from the inky void to float towards you, but any sense of your own mild panic is marred by the screaming on the screen that pulls your attention away. 

The rest of the house is unusually quiet around you, its existence ebbing away. Oblivious to the malevolent, unseen eyes that seem to pierce through the darkness, you continue to fill your mouth with the salty, puffed kernels.

"Run, why are you standing there, just fucking run!" You crunch to Jamie Lee; your eyes wide and the music hammering around you loudly as the killer is in the house with her, and she hasn't realised it yet.

Oh, the irony.

A figure continues to emerge from the swirly shadows, edging towards you in the dark where the light of the TV hasn't reached. It moves with a haunting grace as if it's part of the very darkness it inhabits. You feel hairs prickle up on the back of your neck as you watch the tension on the screen play out. 

You know how this shit goes down; you've seen this movie millions of times, but it still gets you. Still makes you jump out of your skin at the right parts and-

"BOO!" 

A maniacal laugh pierces your eardrum from behind and you screech in absolute terror.

The bowl of popcorn ends up all over the floor as you launch yourself up from the couch like you’ve been tasered, turning and screaming as you hear that sinister laugh morph into one you begin to recognise.

Big, splayed hands reach for you from within the dark and you squeal louder, backing up as the sinister marauder advances on you.

"Hey it's me, muñeca. It's me!" But he's still laughing and it's not fucking funny.

Your heart is trying to make a dash out of your throat and you swear to God some pee might’ve trickled down your leg.

"What the Hell are you trying to do, give me a heart attack?!"

You slap his hands away angrily as he reaches for your shaky ones, and the light from the TV assures you it's Frankie, still chuckling to himself from behind a cheap, neon-coloured clown mask.

"Jesus Christ," you sigh, catching your breath. 

You're still trying to choke your thrashing heart back down into your chest. It's not going down without a rowdy fight apparently as you cough and splutter. "Why would you scare me like that?! What are you wearing?" You query with a shudder as he pulls off the grotesque mask. 

It's a sinister, somewhat ugly clown, complete with rainbow coiffed curls, white cracked rubber for a face and peeling red nose. All your explicit, childish nightmares come true to form and are made graphically real - too real. You shiver again as you see it, now crumpled up in his hand.

"You should've seen your face!" He's laughing again and it's hard not to punch him right now. Or drop kick him in the balls.

"I fucking hate clowns." You growl, shoving him in the broad shoulder, as he tries to pull you towards him, but you resist in protest.

"Hey, it's just me." Frankie reassures, pulling you into the stack of his chest and trying to kiss your cheek in attempted fuzzy apologies, but you still repel him. 

"I know," you say, rubbing your arm uneasily and pouting at him. “It’s not funny.”

"Aww, hermosa. Come here, I'm sorry. Voy a parar, lo siento. Lo siento." He pulls you closer into his strong arms wrapping you up tight for a moment, and closing your eyes you're immediately in your safe place; safe in Frankie’s arms where nothing horrific can get you.

You feel your heartbeat regain its usual steady tempo and your body melts into a heated pool of slush as he soothes you, rubbing his large hands up and down your back.

It's hard to stay mad at him when he holds you like this. 

"Aren't you going to be late?" You murmur a few enraptured seconds later into his warm neck skin; your nose nuzzling into the soft, sparse scruff that roots there. You taste it as the oaky scents of his heady cologne makes your mouth water. 

He groans deliciously, stirring a flurry again in your rib cage, as you run your tongue up towards his ear and suck gently on the lobe.

"Mmm," he smiles blissfully, crushing your bones into his. You feel his hands now sliding down further, past the small of your back, and pawing at the pliable meat of your ass. 

You tug hard on his ear with your teeth and he hisses as you clamp down.

"Ow!" He whines. You snicker up at him. 

"Revenge." You titter. 

“Eso duele,” he gripes, pouting. 

"Look at this mess." Your bare feet are crunching into the popcorn that’s all over the floor as if an Arctic blast has just hit. 

"I'll help you clean up." Frankie offers, tossing the clown mask onto the couch. You make a mental note to throw the ghastly thing in the trash once he’s gone. 

"No, you go. The guys are waiting for you." 

"You sure?"

"Yeah." You nod with a soft smile, and watch as Frankie retrieves his favourite blue cap from his back pocket, unfolds and fixes it back into its rightful place on his tufty curls.

"I'll just be a few hours. Beers and some cards..." He smiles with cocoa eyes.

"Take as long as you want. I'll probably be asleep when you get back anyway." You say grimacing down at the mess.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Just gonna finish up the movie then climb into bed early." 

"Hardcore." He teases, pulling you towards him again. 

You kiss him on the lips gently. He wraps his hands around the small of your back and you can feel him. Feel that mounting swell of him against your belly as he stiffens in his stonewash Levi’s. 

The kiss between you intensifies, his tongue slipping slowly into the hungry void of your mouth. A polluting convergence of wanton desire and longing as he murmurs into your wet gums. It sizzles in your bloodstream, warming you from the inside out. 

"Might have to wake you up…" Frankie purrs as you pull away, breathless; your heart thudding, as well as your clit that feels like it’s growing in size and weighing you down.

You grin, clenching internally at the thought of how Frankie specialises in waking you up.

You pull on the lapels of his jacket, twisting the artichoke corduroy, working through the mental images of tossing him on the couch, straddling his face and sending him to the guys with your slick drying in his facial scruff. 

"Go on, get going, you jackass." You warn, bending down to pick up the popcorn bowl. You feel a gentle swat on your butt. 

"Enjoy the movie, baby." He says.

You smile standing upright. "Say hi to Joel and Dave for me." 

Frankie turns back to you, his eyes appearing like black shiny marbles in the dark shadows, and smiles sinisterly at you. 

An hour or so later - the clown mask successfully dumped in the trash ceasing to haunt you - and you’ve already given up answering the door to demanding, greedy little witches, hobgoblins and mummies wrapped up in cheap ply toilet paper. 

The bowl of candy is now nestled snugly in your lap; the floor clear of the discarded popcorn. Your eyes are glued back to the flat screen as you finish the remainder of the movie, sinking down further into the couch so that you’re almost horizontal, as you chew and suck the candy corn clacking around your teeth.

A knock on the door a little while later makes you jump, but you ignore it, deciding the kids in your neighbourhood have had their fill. You reach for your phone - the light illuminating your face in the dark with Frankie’s beaming grin whilst he noogies you set as your wallpaper - to see it’s a little past nine PM. 

You toss it on the couch beside you, absorbing in the movie, reaching into the candy bowl for more as Michael Myers terrorises Jamie Lee to no end.

The door knocks again, this time a thudding hammering.

What the hell?

You pause the movie and get up with the candy bowl, padding over to the hall and towards the front door. The knocks grow louder, more insistent, making you flinch.

“Alright, Jesus!” You call out as you open the door, expecting to see a cluster of snarky little demons holding out their treat bags gluttonously.

But as you wrench the door open, you’re met with only the stark emptiness of the dense night. Frowning, you poke your head out further and see there's only vacant spaces hidden in the shadows of the porch. 

You shut the door, convincing yourself it’s a harmless prank from bored teenagers that you’ve become a victim to.

You run your hand around a niggling crick in your neck from slumping on the couch for so long and head back towards the lounge. 

Before you reach the end of the hall, another barrage of hammering rattles through your body. Turning, you march towards the front door and pull it open again.

“This isn’t funny, you little dipshits!” You holler out determined to catch them in the act. 

Again, there’s nobody there; the street is empty, devoid of any life or wily children making the rounds for poison candied apples. You hesitate, torn between curiosity and a faint bleed of fear haemorrhaging somewhere within your muscles. 

“The fuck…?” You query as a cold breeze nips at the tops of your shoulders as you step out onto the porch.

“Hello?” You call out, nerves already frayed as they're going to get this evening; your patience is running thin.

The eerie silence of the night that greets you back seems deafening as it plugs up all your senses. The breeze restlessly pulls the goose bumps out of your pores and you instantly feel foolish, if but a little rattled. 

Sighing, you retreat back inside. You wait for a few moments, listening, waiting again for the sound of the phantom knocker. You shake your head listlessly and with a stupefied mirth to yourself, even though the lingering sense of unease remains, trying to claw at your ankles.

You bolt the chain across the door before you finally walk away, convincing yourself that it’s nothing more than your paranoid mind left to its jangled devices. 

Of all the nights to play fucking pranks. 

Once the movie is over, you climb the stairs up to bed; washing up in the bathroom, now dressed in your matching shorts and shirt pyjama set, and brushing out the candy now cemented in your molars. 

Once you're sunk into the softness of your mattress, you roll over onto Frankie’s side, missing his shape wrapped around your body and the feel of his breath warming the back of your neck as he snores lightly.

The musky scents of him linger in the sheets and you inhale deeply, reminding yourself that you live in reality and not some torrid nightmare with crazed, masked killers. 

As you drift off, you smile at the thought of him losing at poker to Joel and Dave, and how much shit you’ll know they’ll both give him for it too. 

It wakes you, bleeding into your chromatic unconsciousness and interrupting your stunted, dreamless sleep. 

A sense of unease washes over you, amplified by the eerie stillness that still hangs in the air as you glance the time on the alarm clock. It sears its menacing red vitriol into your sleepy retinas brightly. 

It's just past midnight and Frankie’s side of the bed is still empty. 

You lay still and clammy in the sheets, straining your ears to hear what had interrupted your sleep, trying to discern whether it’s real or if your mind had yelled at you from somewhere in the void, pulling you out with a jolt instead. 

You close your eyes and roll over again, your arm tingling numb from sleeping on it, when you hear it again. 

At first you dismiss it as a product of your overactive imagination, still haunted by the spooky shenanigans of the night, or the creaks in the house coming out to taunt you further for shits and giggles. But it’s there, unmistakably. A faint sound ruminating from downstairs. 

“Frankie? That you?” You call softly, sitting up. 

You listen out, the waves of your heartbeat rolling and crashing into the tide of your eardrums, disturbed only by a siren passing in the night.

You slip out of the sheets and pad over to the bedroom door that’s ajar. You're certain you'd shut it when you came up. 

“Frankie?” You call over the landing and wait. 

There’s a loud clanging noise that startles you and you step backwards. 

Nope!

Dashing into the bedroom, you reach into the closet for Frankie’s old college baseball bat that’s beaten up and splintered to hell, but it’ll serve as some protection.

You grab your phone with the intent to call Frankie to come and kick some ass. You swipe across the screen and dial Frankie’s number. It rings off as your battery dies.

“What?” You murmur as you fiddle around with the wire, certain you had plugged it in to charge, trailing it down to the socket and find it’s unplugged and left loose on the floor. Shit!

The noise from downstairs stirs your attention, making you jump, and you’re more than convinced there is someone in the house. 

“Frankie, if you’re fucking with me again, I swear to God, I’m gonna kill you!” You mumble to yourself, standing up and tiptoeing towards the door. 

It falls quiet and you step closer to the top of the stairs. 

“Frankie!” You hiss out, assuming he’s probably drunk and rattling around down in the kitchen and making a mess, but you also don’t want to take the chance in case it’s not.

You descend down the stairs slowly, quietly as you can muster; the bat firmly in your hand and poised ready to swing. You convince yourself that you’ll be able to take them. Frankie’s shown you a thing or two about how to carry yourself.

Yeah. Come on, you fucker.  

With your pulse rising in your ears, you step into the hall, glancing at the front door. It's still chained up and the dread fully overtakes you.

You raise the bat and round the corner into the lounge. You reach for the light switch and flick it up, but the lights don’t come on at all. You flick it up and down a few times, but you remain in the swamping dark.

Fuck! 

You hear the sound again, and it’s indeed coming from the kitchen. Loud and rustling. 

“Frankie?” You call out gently. The sound stops and you’re certain you hear footsteps. Perhaps, realising that you'd locked him out, he's come home through the back door.

"Frankie, answer me."

You head towards the kitchen, the orange light pooling in from the lamp post outside illuminates the trash can that's now overturned on the floor. You look down and kick it warily with your foot. You think you can see a shadow moving to your left.

The air shifts heavily against the back of your neck, and you yelp, swinging the bat with conviction. 

“Uh-ho, we gotta live one!” A thick voice booms as a giant hand catches the bat mid swing.

The voice comes from underneath a creepy vampire mask, complete with fangs and a bloodstained cleft. He wrenches the bat from you, in easily the biggest hands you’ve ever seen, and you hear it clatter away across the tiled floor. 

You scramble backwards. A leather gloved hand clamps over your mouth, as your arms are crushed behind your back, muffling out your panicked screams. 

You struggle and recoil against the body that holds you in a vice-like grip, despite your legs thrashing like you’re fighting against the tide. 

You glance up behind you and see another mask, this time a ghoul with pieces of skin missing, greets you. It's too dark to see the eyes through the slits. But you can hear his laugh; a cold mist of breathy chuckles as you struggle and fight against him.

His gloved hand presses harder over your mouth drowning out your squeaks into frantic inhalations as you struggle to breathe around it. All you can think of is Frankie. Doing some desperate Jedi Mind Trick shit to conjure him here to beat the crap out of these intruding assholes. 

The Vampire steps towards you, cocking his head and his hulking frame immediately intimidates you, terrifies you even. 

But a flood of adrenaline makes you kick out and your foot collides with his kneecap. 

He growls as he jolts. “Hey now! There’ll be none of that, darlin’,” he warns sinisterly. 

In a nanosecond, that voice registers somewhere familiar in the back of your skull, but before you have time to churn and process it into coherent thought, your arm is twisted further up your spine making you cry out around the gloved hand pressing against your teeth; the pressure making them ache. 

“Grab her legs.” The Ghoul instructs as The Vampire reaches for them and clamps tightly around your ankles as you try to repl against him. 

They manoeuvre you into the lounge where another figure emerges from the shadows, now illuminated by a couple of gloaming candles flickering on the coffee table. 

Your eyes widen as you recognise the gnarly clown mask from the trash, shaking the lit match in his fingers until it's extinguished.

You’re tossed face down into the couch and you scramble, gasping and yelling out as they pin you quickly. 

"Get off of meeee!" 

The Ghoul on your right, The Vampire on your left. Their auspicious, maniacal laughter ringing in your ears; their tight grip cementing you in place, pinching painfully against your skin.

The Clown steps closer peering down at you through the mask; his chest rising and falling, steadily puffed out in his menacing stance.

Your eyes widen as he advances closer, his hands moving towards his belt; thick, long fingers slowly unbuckling it.

You yell out, struggling, but it’s futile. “No, NO!” You kick and scream, the dread poisoning your bloodstream, and they all laugh. 

"Help! Hel-pffh!"

The gloved hand of The Ghoul wraps around your throat murdering your yells into dying croaks that choke out of you like sloppy hiccups. 

"Ain't no-one gonna hear ya, darlin'." The Vampire mocks. "S'just you n’ us, pretty girl. All night." 

The Clown kicks at your ankles separating them as The Vampire yanks your left leg towards him. The Ghoul follows with your right leg and it feels like he pulls it out of the joint.

You're completely opened up, your shorts riding tight up against your centre, and locked into place unable to move. You focus on The Clown and the sinister way in which he moves, head slightly cocked and revelling in your plight; a sadistic voyeur in this cruel fate.

Your breathing is frantic, sucking in too much oxygen making you a little light headed. 

The Clown edges closer, his horrifically masked face craning closer towards yours and you can see those dark eyes staring back at you, unblinking and unflinching.

“Trick or treat?” He simply taunts. 

You’re frozen, paralysed. 

The fear has gripped you tight in a vice so binding that you’re unable to process basic motor functions. Both your fight or flight senses have left you, fled screaming into the night.

You can hear them. All around you. Their rabid voices hitching through the masks; verbal plotting laced with undulating horrors of menace. All the ways they want to feast on you rattles tinny in between your ears. 

Their hands paw at you, tear at your supple flesh like a pack of ravenous wolves; groping, scratching, pinching. Tugging lewdly at the light cotton of your pyjama shorts and shirt. 

The monsters harangue your every sense, flood your synapses with their ill intent. Their white noise deafens you. 

Then, like you've been dunked head first under ice cold water, the sudden awareness of your predicament shakes you with alarm. It's enough to pump fast adrenaline through you like Popeye's spinach as you twist, screech and fight back with all you’ve got.

You’re not sure how you manage it - it's one for your brain to calculate the physics later - but you’re up on your feet, shoving The Clown backwards as he unzips his flies, leaving The Vampire growling.

But The Ghoul is up just as fast and chasing you down as you make a daring dash towards the front door. 

Your fingers rattle clumsily around the chain, cursing yourself that you attached it earlier, unable to get a steady grip on it, when you feel The Ghoul slam into you from behind. 

Your face is crushed hard into the wood as he pestles against you, stars flooding your eyes. You hear him snarling fistules of lava in your ear. He grabs your arms and drags you back. “No you don’t, bitch!” He seethes. 

Now begins the physical struggle that you’re bound to lose. You might have torn at him with your nails, but it barely marks him. Your desperate imploring of him to stop, that he's hurting you, has no effect either. His need is too desperate now for him to even hear you.

You feel his urgency, and realising there’s nothing further you can do or say, your body submits to him as he drags you along with ease - he’s simply too strong for you to fight off - they all are. 

He slams you down, bent forward, over the dining table; your temple and cheek slapping against it, dazing you for a second. 

You feel hands on your body, one hand slipping easily around your throat, the other slipping around the front of your belly pulling you back tight against him.

You feel him, feel the excitement of your helplessness goading him on. Feel that hardness of his twisted desire. Your wrists are restrained at your back, held in place as he easily and quickly manoeuvres them despite your struggles. 

“Please!” You cry out louder.

His voice is rough sounding in your ear. "Don't you dare scream, or I'll snap your pretty little neck!" Foul menace is hissed into you insidiously from The Ghoul. And you know he's not messing around. 

Through the commotion, you hear a chair being pulled out, creaky scrapes, and The Clown takes a seat at the opposite end of the table. He tosses a couple of black cable ties across the polished wood to The Ghoul.

The Ghoul secures your wrists together, sharp and snapping, and you whine with tears pooling in your eyes for them to let you go. To not do this. To please just stop.

The Clown, drawing one denim clad knee up, sitting back in the chair, watches darkly. 

You jut your leg out backwards in a last ditch attempt to not go down without a fight, clocking it into The Ghoul’s thigh and he growls and slams his fist on the table mere inches from your face.

He’s had enough now. 

He tears off his mask and presses his body over yours, suffocating you with his crushing strength. He grips round your chin and turns your head. The face that is presented back to you, smirking with dark brown eyes burning into you like hot embers, renders you useless as he twists your face to meet yours. You can hear your neck crack. 

Oh fuck.

“D-Dave?” You query confused. He grits his teeth, mouth pursed out as he stares you into a weak submission. He's pissed, livid.

You see movement over his shoulder as The Vampire emerges. 

“Cat’s outta the bag, hmm?” The Vampire says to Dave, a hefty hand resting on his shoulder. 

You watch in shock, and with something else starting to flare over your body, as The Vampire removes his own mask, crushing it in his large palm to reveal soft, greying curls slick with sweat in the chocolaty roots. 

“Joel?" You gasp. 

“In the flesh, darlin’.” He sneers through a smile that’s more unnerving than Dave’s fury somehow, completing this picture of terrifying machismo. 

“What is this, w-what’s going on?" You pant, your wrists burning as they struggle around the plastic snare keeping them together and tingling your fingers with numbness. 

Dave’s gloved hand squeezes around your jaw popping your lips open.

“Ssshh.” His leathered index finger pushes tightly to your mouth. Black butterflies dance over Dave’s features. You're tempted to bite down, but sensing this, he pushes another finger in and you heave as it tickles the back of your throat. 

Joel chuckles softly at your plight as he watches you choke around Dave's invading leather digits.  

"So this is what you look like sucking on Frankie's cock, hmm?" Dave taunts.

"Real fuckin' nice." Joel agrees, licking his lips. You catch him palming himself over his jeans and you feel a heavy flutter start to rustle from the grave in your core. 

You try to swallow but your mouth is stuffed so full of the padded leather that your saliva pools out the corner of your mouth and runs down your chin. 

Dave grips the side of your face with his other hand, his hips pushing you against the table. Joel lurches behind him like a stacked shadow, sealing off any gap for a potential escape. 

You want to be furious, you want to push him off you as he pushes his fingers into the furthest reaches of your throat and becomes mesmerised by it as you gag and retch. 

Instead, and in some fucked up depravity stirring from the pits, you melt under his force; enjoying the feel of it and nuzzling into his hand with your eyes closed, until he yanks your hair backwards and holds you still and taut.

You gasp out as he sniffs all over your neck and face like a dog. "Oh, you want this don't you, slut?"

Dave's sudden change in demeanour again does something to you; something wonderfully perverted and untamed. Something unexpected and he picks up on it immediately like a Bloodhound.

He pulls his hand out of the glove, but leaves it in your mouth, pressing it in further until you gag more and your cheeks fill with it.

"I can smell your cunt," Dave says in a voice you don't recognise. It's sinister and deep, yet with a jaunty bounce of a little chuckle on the end of it.

His macabre smile does nothing to appease the angst simmering away inside your stomach. Instead, it seems to intensify it to boiling point and it begins to ache in your gut like a heavy pull.

But then, a surge of devious pleasure swills in your bloodstream, seemingly from out of nowhere; you're aroused by becoming aroused at such a thing. A blooming in between your legs, the slickness of your pussy waking up to join this fucked up tea party. And the feel of your body becoming heated for him makes you sweat.

“Ain’t she pretty, hmm?” Joel taunts. 

Dave runs his mouth over your cheeks; he becomes possessed, animalistic almost as he glides it back and forth, back and forth. You feel his lips drag against yours but he doesn't kiss you, even though you're suddenly desperate to latch onto his lips - to feast on them like you're starved, despite the glove stuffed so unceremoniously into your mouth.

It sends shivers down your body and tingles inside your hair follicles that he’s pulling on tightly. The smoothness of his marble-like jaw, the plumpness of his bottom lip; a kaleidoscopic wonder of him that you've never really paid attention to before.

Somewhere, deep inside of you, you realise you’d always thought Dave was attractive, handsome. And now whilst he’s terrifying and rough, that attraction rears its ugly head and dives haphazardly into wanton lust.

The electric sparks zap down your spine and surges through your nipples that are tightening inside your pyjama shirt. You’re unconsciously squeezing your thighs together as your clit throbs. 

He's right. You do want this. 

"You know, I've always wanted to fuck you." Dave's hand reaches for his belt. 

You see Joel kneel down to your level as your eyes widen. You feel Dave yank down your pyjama shorts as he practically tears them from your legs. 

You sound your resistance out around the glove, but all that comes out is incomprehensible moans.

He swipes between your legs, and his fingers slip over your puffy cunt lips, and it's a dead giveaway at how drenched you are.

You feel Joel pat your shoulder. “S’okay, darlin’,” he soothes with maddening eyes. “We’re gonna take real care of ya.”

"Yeah. Feel that tight cunt that Frankie says you've got squeeze round me." Dave snorts. "Fuck, you're so wet…"

You hear yourself audibly whimper as his fingers find you soaking and wanting. He runs them up and down your fleshy seam and pushes two of them into your folds with a loud, undignified squelch.

He slides further up and knocks against your clit that aches and your thighs judder uncontrollably as he circles it. 

Joel reaches between your legs and takes a swipe for himself. You watch as he sucks your slick from his fingers and smirks. 

“Someone’s ready to be fucked, aren’t ya, darlin’?” Joel says to you. 

You shake your head and it clatters against the tabletop.

Dave moans into your ear, "what a little slut. Wet for me already. What would your boyfriend think?"

You whine as he increases the pressure on your clit, your legs already buckling underneath you. 

"Why don't we ask him, hmm? Hey Frank. What do you think about that?"

Your eyes dart to The Clown, watching you silently with tented fingers. 

"Frank!" Dave grunts again through gritted teeth. "Take that thing off and watch me fuck your girl.” 

A hand goes to The Clown's face and you recognise Frankie's features as they're revealed to you from under it. Your heart surges, feeling heavier in your chest. But Frankie doesn't look how you expect him to.

He doesn't look aghast or in disgust, or furious with Dave and Joel. No. He looks positively delighted and smirks darkly at you as Dave lines himself up against your oozing slit.

Frankie tosses the mask across the table. "Fuck her until she screams, Dave." He says casually cold. 

You watch helplessly as Frankie's lips twist up into a chilling smirk that ices right through your blood. 

You whimper helplessly. Your body is shattered with an agonising realisation as Frankie teases and encourages your plight rather than halting it.

You can feel your heartbeat hammering wildly in your chest cavity - pumping courage into your veins, preparing you for what is about to happen. 

He’s not helping you, he’s not stopping this. You realise that he’s heinously a part of it. Tears well in your eyes, threatening to blind you and it feels like every bone in your body has snapped.

Dave shunts his cock into you so hard, that the table screeches and jostles forward against the floor. Frankie slaps his palms down so that he isn't crushed in the gut by it. 

"Shit! Never knew ya had it in ya, Yorkie-boy." Joel remarks with an impressed grin. 

"Fuck you, Joel." Dave pants from behind you. 

He’s not gentle as he drills in, pushing himself into the deepest parts of you he can reach as he fucks you. Your pussy welcomes him in, sucking around him, despite your body clenching initially.

Slowly, you’re unfurling, you’re taking it, taking him, whether you want to or not. Your mind is still trying to figure that part out.

He’s packing you out and filling you to the brim as he surges into a vile, hypnotic rhythm. You’re gasping around the glove; groaning and moaning as your body performs the ultimate betrayal against you, and starts to unwillingly peak. 

“Mmph, nufffph…” You lament helplessly around the suffocating glove. 

"Look at this slut, coming already. Barely fucked you, sweetheart and you're coming all over me!" Dave cajoles as though he's unimpressed. 

"His cock feel too good in ya, honey?" Joel asks, stroking at your sweat laden face.

You whine, unable to speak with the glove still stuffed in your orifice.

"Oh, I know, darlin'. Let's get that out, shall we?" Joel reaches for the leather and slowly pulls it out of your stretched, dry mouth. "That better?"

You nod, licking around your taut gums. "Uh-huuuah…" You groan as your back tenses and your body arches.

Dave pistons in deep, grabbing a hold of the meat of your hips with sharp, tight fingers. You can already feel the bruises forming as he squeezes around your malleable flesh. 

Joel smiles, grabbing at your jaw, squeezing it tightly in a binding crush of his fingers and stubby thumb. "Tell me how good it feels with Dave’s cock in ya cunt." 

"G-goo-ood." You whimper, snottily. You say it to appease him; it’s what he wants to hear, but Dave’s hitting those spots inside you that creep up your shoulders and whisper in your ear that it does, in fact, feel good.

Your muscles are tense all over your body making you feel like lead, but that building heat is melting it all away until you’re a boiling, metallic liquid running off the table to melt Joel’s boots. 

"Just good?” Joel frowns. “Ya can do better than that. He’s giving it to ya hard, honey n’ you’re telling me it’s just good?” He shakes his head disapprovingly. 

"S-so goo-ood…" you stutter, your words being forced out of your larynx with every brutal thrust Dave gives you as he riles and growls behind you.

"Tell him it's the best fucking cock ya've ever had." Joel prompts with a controlled voice. 

"It's t-the best cock… I've ever ha-haad." You hiccup through your wails.

Dave continues to pummell you. You can't take it anymore, it begins to hurt as he nudges against your cervix like a battering ram. It begins to charge and stew. It begins to turn you out, kicking and screaming by the ankles as your fingertips fizz and your eyes roll back into your skull as though possessed by the emergence of another haunting orgasm, only this time stronger than the last.

It's burning, licking all over your skin and melting you. He's taking from you, owning you. 

And it feels oh so fucking good.

"Oh God, oh fuck!" You cry. “Please! Fuck, yes!” You’re babbling; possessed by the inucubus-like demons that twist and trick and convince you that you want this as they lick at your ear. That somewhere, in the back of your mind, this has always been a dark fantasy that you’ve been reluctant to walk the path of.

You can feel the drool from your mouth pool on the table under you, sticking to your cheek like syrup. 

Joel slaps your face and it stings you back to reality for a second. "Louder darlin'!"

"It's the… aaah-ha! Oh God! The-best-fucking-cock-I've-ever-fucking-had! Aaahh! Fuuuuuck!" You wail as Dave snaps his hips into you and you fold completely in half. 

You're shaking and can't seem to stop, Dave's dastardly grunts filling your ears as you squeeze and flood him. "That's it baby, soak my cock. Just like that you little slut." 

"Ohh. Frankie. Man. That's gotta hurt." Joel snorts as he lets your face go and it falls back against the table with a heavy thunk. You've no energy to keep it up right now as you succumb to Dave’s cock tearing you open whilst your bones dissolve. 

Frankie purses his lips as Joel stands up with a smirk tossed at him. The two men watching you as Dave brutally gives you a pounding that feels like it’ll never let up.

And you kinda don’t want it to. 

“Enjoying the show, boys?” Dave pants around a wheezed laugh. 

He reaches forward and pulls at your hair again, snapping your neck up, your spine bending backwards on itself like a screwed up question mark, as he holds you there in a warped contortion and your body can only take it. 

It shouldn’t feel like this, it shouldn’t feel good and devouring. You should be repulsed, you should be frightened with how he's invaded you. You should be doing everything you can to fight him off. 

But you don’t want to.

You want him to snap your spine in half and eat your insides. You want Dave to annihilate you and pulverise your body into ashy dust. You want him to make you come again. 

“Watch me break your girl in half, Frank.” Dave croons evilly, as if able to read your thoughts. 

“Oh god... fuck... please!" Even your mouth betrays you now, begging him for more. "Dave! Pleasepleaseplease…"

But somehow your cries and begging him only make your orgasm that much more intense. And while he laughs, while they all laugh at you being railed on the dining table, deep derisive chuckles at your utter humiliation by Dave’s hands, you come again right on top of the other; your entire body shaking and trembling as you’re being exorcised of any reluctant demons left inside you.

You want this. You want them all to have their fill and to fill you up. You want to be tossed around and shared by them all. Left muddied and stained. 

"Daaaaaave!" You wail.

“That’s it, scream for me! I fucking love it when little sluts scream. Little sluts who scream like they don't want this cock buried in their cunt." Dave grunts into your scalp and he’s all teeth. 

You’re completely out of breath. Your body is caving into him as he ruts and fucks you harder, deeper and without any intention of stopping soon.

You’re starting to believe it when he said he’d always wanted to do this, always wanted to fuck you. And now that he his, it's more terrifying and wonderful than what you could have imagined. 

You can feel him speed up, really giving you his all, as his breathing starts to wane. His thighs are constant thuds against your ass cheeks, so much so that you imagine the skin between you is now one.

“Fuck!” He yells out. 

When Dave comes, it’s like he’s howling at the moon; turning himself around his bones and sinew as he pants and wheezes like an animal with bloodied carcass strings hanging around his teeth.

You feel him pump into you, his thighs buckling and his hands releasing your hair from around his grip; you feel like you’ve been scalped. 

He lets go of you completely, tossing your used body onto the tabletop like garbage, as his cock slips out and you can feel his come pooling at your entrance. You inadvertently squeeze to stop it sluicing down your thighs as your panting subsides.

You’re dizzy, you’re seeing spots in your vision as you try to remember how to breathe. 

You’re given no remission; Joel’s there immediately as Dave steps back, catching you before you slide off the table into a heap as your legs finally give way. 

“I got ya, darlin’.” He scoops you up into his strong arms with ease, and carries you through to the lounge. 

Joel makes his way with you in his arms; his heavy boots crunching in some of the popcorn spilt on the floor in your earlier fright from Frankie that you'd missed clearing up.

He sits on the sofa, cradling you in his wide lap and stroking through your hair gently. Your arms are aching, feeling like they're on fire as your wrists are still lashed together tightly behind your back. 

You look up, in a heady stupor, to see Frankie still watching from the dining table with a blank, unreadable face and dark eyes, and Dave pouring a glass of water and gulping it back, clearing his throat, naked from the waist down and puffing out his cheeks that are pink with the exertion. His face shines with sweat. 

“Let’s get these off ya, darlin’,” Joel says. 

He pulls a switchblade from his back pocket and you flinch as the blade flicks open. He waves it under your eyelashes and you tense. 

“M’gonna cut ya free. Ya try anythin’ and I’ll slide this into your belly, y’hear me?” He pinches the fat of your stomach under the flaps of your pyjama shirt to emphasise the point. 

You nod frantically as he cuts the cable ties from your wrists. 

Tucking the knife away, he brings your hands around to your front and massages the feeling slowly back into them. They have purple rings around them that itch and weep from raw blisters. 

He brings your wrists to his lips and presses gentle kisses over the broken skin whilst holding eye contact with you.

An urge surges through your fingertips; you feel compelled to stroke through his curls, feel him nuzzle into you at his gentle nature. Run your nose over his facial scruff and see if it smells different from Frankie’s. 

But you don’t, he keeps your twitching hands firmly in his own as he kisses delicately, runs his soothing tongue around the welts. 

“Better?” Joel asks you after a few minutes. 

You nod as he pushes your knotted hair behind your ears.

“Alright, darlin’. Lay back. M’gonna fuck ya now.” 

"Please-" you start in a weak protest. Your body isn;t ready for another pounding yet.

"Shut up. Ya gonna take what I give ya like a good girl." He menaces in the same gentle tone, which is unnerving as it is heated. “In fact, let’s get you down here. Can splay ya out. S’better.”

Joel picks you up like you weigh nothing and lays you on the wooden floor, pushing the coffee table out of the way with his other hand effortlessly. It creaks across the wooden floor.

His foreboding, giant hands grip either side of your pyjama shirt lapels and wrenches it open with a quick yank; the buttons tearing and popping off, some never to be found again.

"Fuck," Joel groans as your breasts spill out at him. He leans forward over you, taking a nipple between his lips and sucking on it, pulling on it with his teeth and making you hiss. 

"Such a nice pair, darlin'. Jesus." He gruffs tonguing around your nipple as it hardens in his mouth. He runs his mouth across the valley and peaks of your breasts, his tongue lavishing attention around those stiff nipples that he teases.

You feel him bite down on the meat of the left one and you hiss as he sucks the skin in around his teeth ferociously. He rises up when he’s left a purple mark. “Something for ya to remember me by,” he says. 

Your eyes water, yet you groan in response to his biting, and shut them as he leaves another mark on your sternum. You feel a sharp sting across your cheeks; you open them again in shock.

"Eyes on me." Joel warns. "Want you to watch me turn ya out." 

“Please, Joel…” You whine, trying to resist him and the way he can simply knead and spread you about with ease like you’re a pliable plasticine doll. But your body is too strung out from Dave’s gruelling punishment. It has no fight left in it.

You try to close your legs, but Joel’s too strong. He wrenches them apart with a simple shove of his hands making your thigh bones crack: his stocky body filling the gap and stopping you from shutting them again as he slots in between like a giant cinder block.

"Don't act like ya don't want me inside ya. I know you've been thinkin' 'bout me doing this to ya. You're a fuckin' tease." 

Joel's always been big. With his broad shoulders and biceps that often strain under his plaid shirts, he's the quieter one of the three of them, the softer one.

A gentle giant that would always come to your aid if you needed him. And he knows how to grill a mean steak when he invites you and Frankie over for barbecues and he makes for the perfect, gracious host. 

But tonight, he's showing you a side of him you never thought could exist. A side of him that's turning you on explicitly, despite the creeping exhaustion and pursed reluctance.

Joel's a Texan gentleman through and through. But tonight, he's a wild fucking animal. 

“Y'gonna hold ya girl steady for me, Frankie? Squirmy lil' thing ain’t she?" Joel grunts as he unbuckles his belt. 

Momentarily, you feel Frankie lifting your head into his lap and securing your arms above your head as you wriggle and headbutt against his thighs. “Don’t fight it, hermosa.” He warns. 

"Gon' make a mess of ya, darlin'," Joel smirks as he shuffles his jeans off and you spy his ominous cock; massively hard and dripping. It's huge, almost comically so, and you gulp. 

Fuck!

"Ya ever had a cock this big before? Gon' break ya open." Joel spits into his palm and smears it all around his fat head as he pumps himself. 

You gasp; a deep guttural howl transmorphing into a silent scream as Joel pushes the head of his engorged cock against your hole and begins stretching you out.

"Oh God… so fuckin’ tight. Ya didn't tell me how good this would be, Frankie." Joel groans through a slack jaw. "Ya can't be keeping this pussy to yourself. That ain't fair." 

You hear Dave snicker in agreement above you as he repositions himself on the couch to get a better view of your plight. 

“Oh fuck…” You cry out as Joel continues to push in further.

Frankie's cock was big, he often left a delicious ache deep inside you for days after. Even Dave's cock you'd feel bruising around your insides in the morning. But Joel? Fuck, Joel wasn't joking when he said he'd break you open.

It burns and sears and you feel so full despite him not being all the way in yet.   

"Fuck Joel, you're… it's too much. I can't-" You protest, shaking your head and screwing up your eyes.

"Suck it up." He grunts as he pushes his hips further into yours. 

"Take it," Frankie grizzles, as you try to thrash against his hands, pinning your arms down. Your whole body feels full of Joel as he finally stills; his full, fat length buried inside you and you can feel yourself rib and pulse around him, already on the cusp of falling apart. You're whimpering and shaking already.

"Well look at that, seems ya can take me after all, sweetheart." Joel smirks, the crest of his hips now pressed flush against yours. The weight of him crushing you somewhat. He looms over you, his gigantic palms flat on the floor by your head. 

"Please move," you whimper around grinding your teeth. “Oh God, Joel, you’re too fucking big-”

"What's that, darlin'? Ya begging me to fuck ya now?" Joel chuckles. "Ya girl's really greedy for cock, Frankie." 

“Fuck her,” Dave encourages. 

Joel pulls backwards and slams forward into you with a hard shunt. "There we go." 

"FUCK!" You wail, water blinding your eyes as they mist over. You feel him; one quick, hard shunt of his cock inside of you and you gasp at the full invading breach as he bottoms out.

Although it feels like he’s ripped right through your back. 

He does it again and your breath is pumped out of your lungs into the air above you as you flounder, trying to suck it all back in. 

Joel's large paws grab at your hips as he kneels up and steadies himself into a brutal pace, rattling your bones with each powerful thrust. 

Your hands squeeze into fists and you glance up at Frankie; a poised smirk over his upside down features, a few renegade curls falling into his face, watching Joel's thick cock hammer into you. 

Joel's grunts fill your senses, mesmerised by the way he looks down to see himself pull back and admire how wet his cock is with you before he raises his eyebrow up and smirks accomplished. “Greasin’ me up good, darlin’.”

“Joel!” You wail as he slams on in again. You’re just a body for him to fuck, a toy for him to twist out of shape and break apart. “Oh fuck, please, nuuaaaahhh!"

Your gasps and cries are soon silenced by Dave straddling your face and planting his heavy balls into your mouth. "Shut up and suck." He commands.

He strokes his now hard cock again, and groans as you’re forced to suck whilst Joel continues to annihilate your cunt. 

Dave smirks at Frankie who’s still pinning your wrists in place. 

You look up at them both, staring into one another as Dave jerks his cock and Frankie holds his eye contact with flared nostrils.

Dave grips onto Frankie's shoulder with a heavy clap. He growls whilst you suck on his balls that have completely filled your mouth, squeaking around them as Joel forcefully pulls another orgasm from you. 

Frankie rests his forehead against Dave's as he groans, fucking into his own fist. 

You see Frankie's lips twitch, whispering to him, but you can't hear anything over your own muffled squeaks and Joel's rabid panting.

You think you lipread Frankie telling Dave to come. To come for him, and that thought alone makes you surge and cry out as you release all over Joel's cock uncontrollably.

Meanwhile, Joel is destroying your cunt as he thrusts deep and with intent on making you feel it; feel him with every shunt that leaves you gasping for oxygen as it's pushed out of you by his dick. There's simply no room in your body for both. 

Your squeaking around Dave's balls reaches a fever pitch and the humming against them only makes him grunt and growl heavier. 

His grip on Frankie's shoulder tightens, screwing up his t-shirt as he pumps his cock faster. He tenses and you feel his balls lurch in your mouth as he spurts ropes of thick ejaculate all over Frankie's denim clad thighs. 

He hoists himself off of you, panting and sitting back on the couch. "Clean him up," Dave instructs you with a click of his fingers. 

Joel pulls out of you and flips you over onto all fours and ploughs back in as you shakily get to licking Dave's come off of Frankie's jeans. 

"Good slut," Dave praises as he sits back on the couch, his arm slung over his face and breathes deeply. 

You feel Joel pry apart your ass cheeks. You feel a wet globule of his spit on your ass and you flinch at it, feeling it cool and sloppy as he rubs his thick fingers around it, teasing your puckered hole.

You then feel Joel's thumb stretch through your rim. You instinctively clench and he growls. 

"Clench and it's gon' hurt. I'll make sure of it." He smacks your ass as you yelp from the sting.

"Relax, hermosa," Frankie instructs, grabbing hold of your face and focusing your attention on him.

You shake your head frantically; the thought of Joel’s cock ploughing in your ass fills you with utter dread and horror. “No,” you implore Frankie with wide eyes. 

“I said, relax.” Frankie says squeezing your cheek bones tightly. You can feel Joel twisting his thumb deeply in your hole.

 A dewdrop of Dave’s come is smeared on your cheek and Frankie scoops it onto his finger and holds it out to you. He hisses, biting his lip as you suck it off, eyeing him the whole time.  

"You're such a good fucking whore for us, aren't you, baby? Quieres esto tan mala, ¿verdad?" Frankie nods encouragingly as you fall under his dark spell. You feel his own thumbs stroke at the sides of your face now as you pant and whine. 

"Yeah…" you nod too, straining not to clench as Joel's thick thumb hooks fully into your ass. 

"There we go, snug as a bug, darlin'." He emits a chuckle that seems to grab at you and shake you with its eerie, sadistic violence.

“Does ya girl squirt Frankie?” Joel asks as you inadvertently start pushing back against him as he fucks you more laboured now.

Frankie chuckles and nods. “Just gotta know the right place to stroke.” He looks back at your face in his hands, sweaty and panting. “Isn’t that right, baby?”

Joel nods in agreement. “I reckon you can squirt for me, darlin’.”

“She can. Let me get some of that pussy.” Frankie says, highly enthused at the prospect. 

Joel pulls out and rolls you on your back as you collapse into the floor. You can see Dave sitting forward, elbows on his knees and watching you intently with those dark eyes. You reach around his ankle and tug gently and whine and he responds to your wanting.

He slips down and slides behind you, propping you up, groping and massaging your breasts.

You catch the glimmer of his wedding band as his hands work your tits and you can only wonder at what Carol is assuming he’s doing this evening.

Those thoughts are cut short as Joel kneels up, slipping his thick cock back inside you, and Frankie lays down beside him on his stomach and starts sucking on your clit. 

You whine, watching intently as Joel’s hand comes down on the back of Frankie’s head, sifting through his curls and groans. His mouth is practically on Joel's cock too, and it does something to you as your body fizzes in response to the delicious sight of it. 

“Fuck!” You cry out, biting down on your lip. 

The pressure on your clit and the way Joel hits that spot deep inside you just right starts to build in your body. It all centres, gathering deep in the pit of your core as the warmth starts to choke you up.

You feel it tightening, bunching. Your toes start to curl, your fingers crack. Your back lifts and arches of its own volition and your thighs shake and stiffen.

You feel a pull, a heavy sensation as you bear down. The pressure mounting, pushing… You see those phosphenes glimmer at you as you close your eyes.

You can hear Dave’s snarls close to your ear, feel his fingers tugging on your nipples. Feel Frankie’s skilled tongue drawing those fast, dizzying circles on your clit. Feel Joel hitting that spot again and again that’s going to annihilate you imminently.

They're everywhere, they're all over you.

Your climax is almost violent; you buck and shudder as you release the pressure, always feeling for a split second like you'll pee, but don't.

You're gushing loudly, and uncontrollably, over Joel’s cock and Frankie’s lips. It bears down again, that weight inside of you erupting as you release. Frankie laps it up like a starving animal as it soaks his scruff. It feels like you’ll never stop. 

“Holy shit!” Dave remarks with a smirk watching you squirt. He squeezes your tits together as you place your hands over his and giggle deliriously. He squeezes your fingers around his. 

The combination of having Joel’s thick cock in your pussy, while receiving a tongue fucking from Frankie makes for a most lewd and unabashed scene whilst your head thrashes against’s Dave chest as he chuckles just as bewildered by it as you are.

You can’t believe it, your cunt is absolutely gushing as the three of them work in tandem to completely destroy you. And you’re loving it. 

Frankie licks his lips that are dripping as he rises up, the collar of his t-shirt is soaked, and Joel grabs a hold of you and fucks harder, quicker. More determined as he nears his own release. 

“Joel!” You wail as you squeeze against Dave’s fingers, feeling like you could crush them.

Finally, Joel comes roaring like an animal, and pumps himself liberally inside of you. 

"Fill her up now, Frankie.” Joel nods with a puff as he pulls out.

The mess that is over the wooden floor between your legs is obscene.

Frankie pulls off his Levi’s, runs a hand through his messy hair, and crawls over you.

"Who's pussy is this?" He asks slipping a finger side of you and feeling the spend of both his friends in there, warm and silken.

"Yours," you whimper.

"Really? I think you need reminding, hermosa. Seeing as you've been such a fucking slut tonight, hmm?"

"Frankie..." you whine as he pulls you forward towards him. He lines himself up with your pussy, pushing in.

"Aah!" You groan.

“Fuck, Joel stretched you nice and good, baby. Shit. You feel loosened up.” He growls thrusting hard and fast. You can only clutch onto him, only whine and groan as Frankie gives you his all.

"My pussy. My fucking pussy." Frankie seethes at you, hips snapping furiously into you. He pants, growls. Garbled Spanish and English flows from his lips as he pummels you.

He finishes inside of you quickly, too riled up from this whole scene to not bust a nut quickly. 

“Got all three of us in that slutty pussy now, don't you?" Dave taunts.

“Which one of our kids ya gon’ have?” Joel smirks as he pats your tummy gently. “Cunt’s filled to the brim.”

The three of them dazzle you, utterly fucking you up. Working together like a team; a gang of insidious spectres dominating and taking their turns with you.

And you fucking love every single second of it. 

After Frankie fills you, Joel pulls apart your legs to watch the cream pie spilling out of you. 

He runs his fingers through it, pushing it back inside you. He then brings them to your face, Dave holding onto your jaw and bringing it forward towards Joel's drenched digits. He rubs them over your lips. "Lick ‘em clean. Taste all of us." 

They all watch with praise and smirks as your tongue moves out tentatively, licking the salty cream from Joel’s fingers until he finally pushes them in your mouth.

Your lips wrap around them tightly as you suck them like you would Frankie's cock.

“Mmm,” you whine, giggling. "You all taste good."

Dave chuckles behind you and Frankie laughs, his chin leaning on Joel’s broad shoulder.

“Good slut,” Dave praises in your ear.

You lay there in a crumpled heap, gradually gathering your thoughts; striving to understand and come to terms with what has happened this spooky evening. 

But initially you’re still too confused, still swimming in a blissed out fracture of reality bobbing along the surface of a choppy existence.

Baffling questions bloom and wilt quickly as you have no answers to appease the turmoil of embarrassment, shame… of pure unadulterated pleasure. 

You can hear the shrill echoes of the guys in the hall, dressed and murmuring with Frankie. You can't hear much, the ringing in your ears from your body being mauled and torn at still hums, but you think you can make out Joel saying something. 

She’s a good sport… Hope she liked it.

Take care of her tonight. Dave adds. 

Ya still coming over Sunday, for the game? Joel checks.

You feel like you zone out for a while, only coming to when Frankie stands above you, towering and looming; his presence breaking the barriers of your heavy consciousness.

The look on his face is unreadable, impenetrable. 

You peep up at him from behind the scraggy mess of your knotted hair, your scalp still aching from how hard Dave had tugged on it. 

"I can't believe you did it." You grin, the concealed violence of this night escaping through your teeth into blissed satisfaction.

Frankie’s cool look instantly melts into a warm sunbeam. "Was it what you wanted, querida?" He asks, crouching down, knuckles running against your leg affectionately.

You nod. "It was better than I could have imagined. Creepy. But so fucking good." You smirk dreamily. "I really got into it."

He smiles accomplished, a faint blush of pink creeping under his eyes and in the crinkles there as he grins. "Good. How are you feeling, you a little sore?"

"My whole body feels like I've been tackled. I think Joel broke me." You start laughing as your pussy flinches in horror at the recall of him stretching you wider than you've ever been. 

"He's a big guy." Frankie chortles. 

"You're telling me. Jesus." You reach down and cup your battered pussy. 

"Come on. I'll run you a bath." Frankie scoops you up in his arms and carries you up to the bathroom.

You plant a delicate smooch on the side of his golden neck. “Thank you for this,” you murmur. 

“Cualquier cosa por ti, mi amor.” He runs his soft scruff against your cheek as he navigates the stairs. You can smell your cunt in it and you smile. 

He gets in the bath with you, pulling you back against his soft belly and soaping your body down with a hot washcloth. Your wrists are still purple; he smiles insidiously, feeling a rush through his cock at the decay of them.

"Did you enjoy it?" You query as his soapy fingers interlock with yours and you feel his breath cool against the shell of your ear. 

"I loved every second of it," he assures. 

"No jealousy?"

"None at all. I trust them. We discussed it in length. I told them anything goes, but no kissing you on the mouth and they respected that. It's all good."

You nod and mull it over, enjoying the hot water soothing the embryonic bruises you know will gestate overnight on your skin. You glance down at the purple bites Joel left on you. You press on one enjoying the masochistic flare for a few moments. 

You think back to so many things, but then you remember Dave and Frankie and that intimate moment you witnessed where Frankie was whispering to him. 

"Have you guys… ever done stuff together?"

"No. No, never." He says. “First time. For all of us actually.”

You nod, admittedly feeling a little swell of disappointment. But it’s washed away by the thought that perhaps they’ll be up for it again, one day.

"Well, this is going to make poker nights interesting now, hmm?" 

You feel his chest vibrate against your back as he laughs. "Yeah." 

"Dave is just… an animal!" You exclaim chuckling.

"Poor Carol." Frankie says, and you both start laughing and find you can't stop for a little while.

You both stay in the water until it starts to cool and the bubbles have all gone, just enjoying Frankie noodling and fussing over you, and relishing how lucky you are as he wraps his wet arms around you, and you could happily drown in the bath water.

It's late; the dawn is on the cusp of rising on the first day in November and you watch as Frankie climbs into the sheets, naked as the day God created him with golden tan skin, pulling you back against his body that moulds itself around yours like warm putty. 

His thumb draws gentle circles on your navel as he buries his face into the nape of your neck. You reach for your phone, previously plugging the charger back into the wall.

“Did you do something to the power?” You query.

He chuckles. “Yeah. I switched off the breaker. Joel must’ve reset it when they left.” He yawns. 

“You guys thought of everything.” You smile. 

"We were in the house for a while. You were asleep." You hear him smirk into you skin.

You smile. You see a message that had come through whilst your phone was off, from Frankie, and click it open.

It's a selfie of Frankie, Joel and Dave outside on the porch with the Halloween masks on, possibly taken moments before they stormed the house. 

Underneath is a message typed out:

You smirk as Frankie stirs behind you, rubbing your back, and you put your phone back on the table and rollover into his arms.  

The light from your phone stays illuminated on your previous message thread with Frankie:

“I love you,” you murmur into his skin as you settle, closing your eyes. You plant a couple of small kisses on his chest.

"Yo tambien te amo, hermosa." Frankie whispers, his fingers dancing slowly in your hair as you finally drift off into an exhausted sleep inside of the Devil’s arms. 

I really hope you got a spooky kick out this story. I'd love to know your thoughts and I hope you enjoyed reading it on this Halloween Fright Night. 🖤🎃

🎃 Re-blogs & comments fuel me! TY!💀

MASTERLIST

#joel miller #dave york #frankie 'catfish' morales #pedro pascal #joel miller smut #pedro pascal characters #dave york x f!reader #frankie morales #frankie morales x f!reader #joel miller x f!reader #tw noncon #tw dubcon #tw dark #jett's pedro boys #jett's writing #happy halloween #fright night #joel miller tlou #dave york equalizer 2 #triple frontier frankie #dead dove fic #dead dove do not eat

[avastrasposts]

A Baker's Dozen - Five

Twelve Pedro boys, twelve stand alone short stories, all set in the same bakery.

Hello!

A surprise early drop of part five! I didn't want this gentleman to be lost among the Christmas cheer on Sunday night so please enjoy him a couple of days early.

This man was the one that most intimidated me to write, and I think that's true for most of us. Luckily my dear friend @morallyinept is an expert on the subject of this particular Pedro boy, and beta read it. Thank you so much Jett, your encouragement makes this a lot less scary!

Please say hello to Pedro boy number five...

Series Master List

It’s not the first time you’ve seen him in your bakery. Sometimes, when you have your extra staffer in over the weekend to handle the crowds, you’ve seen him waiting in line. Somehow he always comes in when you’re not at the counter, or dealing with another customer, but when you glance out through the open kitchen door, you spot him. More than once. And he’s always watching you, dark brown eyes, curious, intelligent, carefully watching. It intrigues you, and it scares you. 

He’s easy to recognise, the bright blonde patch of hair over his forehead makes him memorable, if nothing else. But the way he stands, the weight of his body on one leg, leaning forward onto it while he tilts his head and observes you through the open door with a wry smirk. It makes you think of a trickster, a smooth talker who will smile and charm you with his words while he tries to sell you real estate on the moon. Your eyes meet and he grins, holding up his hand in a nonchalant greeting. You let your eyes glide over him, ignoring his wave as if you didn’t see him, busy looking for a pan or a bowl. 

He comes in the next day again, you catch him from the corner of your eye as he steps up to the counter, just as you come out of the fridge. He doesn’t see you this time you think, so you hurry out of sight and go back to measuring flour into the large mixer. Through the door you can hear him talk to the high schooler you’ve got handling the Saturday afternoon rush. 

“Afternoon, may I ask after the proprietor of this fine bakery?” the man says, and his southern accent is eloquent in a way that reminds you of old films, theatrical and exaggerated, you can hear the smirk in his tone. In your mind he sweeps an old fashioned hat off his head and bows like the ringmaster at the circus. It puts your teeth on edge and you hope to escape his attention. 

“She’s busy right now but I’ll see if she has time,” your highschooler says and you sigh, waving your hand no when they come into the kitchen 

“I’m sorry, she’s right in the middle of something, can I take a message?” 

“No bother, I’ll stop by later, I have a proposal to the lady that’s best delivered in person.” 

You hear him say goodbye and then the door jingles and the hum of the afternoon rush continues as you turn on the big dough mixer, drowning out all else. You wonder what kind of proposal the man could have for you, his response was almost as if he was preparing a sale. The thought calms you and annoys you a little, dealing with insistent sales people was your least favorite activity as a business owner. There was always someone trying to sell you a new mixer or a new oven. You hope he doesn’t come back, but at least you know how to brush off a sales person if needed. 

He doesn’t come back until Tuesday, when you’re alone in the bakery, just before closing. The door jingles and you look up, seeing his smile as he steps across the threshold. 

“Afternoon,” he says, coming up to the counter, giving you a gallant nod in greeting, “I was hoping to catch you at a more quiet time, seeing as the end of the day draws near. I hope my interference doesn’t disrupt your day too greatly and cause you disturbance.” 

His smile sits fixed on his face, as if rehearsed to look polite and genuine, to sell you something. 

It’s hard to press back your customer service persona, so you give him a polite smile, internally you’re gearing up to be courteous but dismissive. 

“How can I help you?” you ask, and his smile widens into a grin as he tilts his head to the side and looks at you. 

“I’m in the market for a special type of treat, one which I hope you’ll indulge me in making,” he holds out his left hand to you, “I’m Ezra, and I really hope you can help me, miss…?” 

You take his hand and awkwardly shake it, ignoring his question, but your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. You’d been so certain he’d try to sell you something, you hadn’t considered that he’d be the one asking you to sell him something special even though special requests weren’t a rare thing. 

“If it’s doable and I know how to make it, I’m sure we can come up with something,” you reply and he nods his head.

“Oh, I’ll pay, handsomely, of course,” 

“What did you have in mind?” you ask, and his smile stretches even further, making his teeth show, and you balk, a tinge of unease shooting up your spine. In the back of your mind you’re reminded of the poem; ‘Will you walk into my parlour, said a spider to a fly.’ There’s a layer of something underneath that smile that unnerves you.

“A sentimental old favorite of mine, chocolate soufflé,” he says, his eyes suddenly slipping into softness as he seems to look past you, “Light, airy, rich and velvety.” 

He waves his hand as if he’s conjuring the dessert out of thin air, a dreamy look on his face that’s quickly replaced by his grin as he turns his attention back to you. 

“It’s an arduous dessert to master, only the most skilled bakers can create it. Are you skilled, sugar?” 

You give him a scowl, you’ve heard every pet name in the book vaguely related to baking by now and none of them sit well with you. 

He catches on to your scowl and chuckles, “Not ‘sugar’ then,” he grins as you put your smallest customer service smile back on. 

“I can make soufflé but I won’t be able to sell them here,” you explain, shaking your head. “They’re too delicate and need to be served and eaten straight out of the oven. But I’m sure there’s restaurants who have soufflé on the menu.”

Ezra shakes his head with a rueful look,”I’m afraid I’ve tried that route, but none of the restaurants in town have exactly what I desire on the menu, and they won’t make it as a special order. So my hope lies with you, cookie.” 

He chuckles again when he sees the flash of annoyance at the pet name, his eyes crinkling at the corners, his smile suddenly looking genuine, “If you’d told me your name when I introduced myself I would gladly use that instead of causing an umbridge with my embarrassing choices of guesses.” 

You ignore his comment about your name, feeling even less inclined to give it to him, and instead you begin wiping down the counter for the end of the day. 

“I’m sorry none of the restaurants have it, but I’m afraid I can’t help you, I can’t make the soufflé and then wait for you to come in, it would be flat and dull and I couldn’t sell you that.” 

“I’m sure you observed, because I’ve observed you in turn, several times, that I’ve been studying you,” Ezra says, his eyes narrowing as he gives you a charming smile, cocking his head to the side and leaning against the counter on his left side, watching you run the cloth over the display cases. 

“You’re the most talented baker I’ve seen in all my travels, all you sell here, you make with your own gifted hands,” he waves his hand around the bakery, “And I’ve sampled many of your delectable delights, nothing rivals what you can bake, cupcake.” 

His words make your cheeks heat up against your will as you glare at the pet name and he smiles back at you. . 

“It won’t change the physics of the soufflé though,” you point out, “it will still fall flat if it’s out of the oven waiting for the customer.” 

“Well, crumpet, I have a remedy for that, I have thought of it all. You make it for me while I wait, right here, after hours,” he says, leaning forward when he sees your doubtful face. He takes the cloth from your hand, stilling your movement as he wraps his fingers around yours, just tight enough for you not to be able to just yank them away. His eyes closer to yours now, imploring you to hear him out, and you don’t fail to note that his expression shifts into something more innocent, his brown eyes wide open, forehead pulled up as he pleads with you

“Please, truly, it may only be a soufflé to you, but it really does mean an awful lot to me, to be able to have this dessert again, to remind me of better days, happier times.” 

His fingers squeeze yours gently while he talks, “I lost my arm, a while back now, in a mining accident,” he says, looking down to his right hand side where you only now notice that his jacket sleeve hangs limp, “I used to love to bake, but I can’t anymore, on account of my…condition.”  

“I’m sorry to hear that,” you reply politely and Ezra nods again.

“It’s been a while now, I’m getting used to navigating life without it,” he says, shrugging his shoulders, “But I can’t bake, not like I used to, not something that requires two stable hands.”

He lets go of you and stands up, grabbing the empty sleeve of his jacket and lifts it up, “Imagine if this happened to you,” he says, giving the sleeve a frustrated tug as his voice gains an edge of annoyance, “Imagine if you, from one cursed day to the next, not only lost your ability to do your job, but also your ability to perform the most entertaining of tasks.” 

You feel your resolve slipping, he’s turned his eyes back on yours and falls silent, for what feels like for the first time since he stepped into the shop. His hand is on the counter between you, open, like he’s waiting for you to take it and shake on your agreement, and his eyes are imploring, his eyebrows raised. 

Like this he looks less like a trickster, the facade has slipped a bit, or maybe he’s pulled a new one up, you feel like you can’t be sure. You glance down at his empty sleeve and make up your mind, you’d be devastated if you couldn’t bake again. 

“Ok, I’ll make your soufflé, any way you want it,” you say, taking his hand, and Ezra’s face breaks into a wide smile. 

“Thank you, bon bon! Your kind gesture makes me most hopeful for the future, there are still good people in this world, prepared to help a poor, armless, man.” 

“Enough with the names,” you give him a small scowl, but you can’t help but smile at the same time, his own smiling, face seems genuine, honestly happy for your service. 

“Such a sweet baker lady has to have a name that matches the sweetness of her produce, jelly pie,” he chuckles, “I’ll keep trying them out until I find the one that sticks.” 

“If I hear one I like I’ll let you know, just don’t hold your breath,” you reply, but you’re smiling at him now and he seems less wiley with the change of his demeanor, more straightforward, as he runs his hand through his hair and grins at you. 

“So when do you want to do this? And what kind of chocolate soufflé do you want?” you ask, pulling out your notebook. 

“I once went to a small restaurant in France, a tiny little village, somewhere in the mountains north of Cannes,” he says, “and the chef would cover the bottom of the ramekin with caramel, sprinkle it with sal de mer before he poured in the chocolate and then finish with a little bit more just on top.” His hand makes a sprinkling movement over the top of the imaginary soufflé ramekin. “It was inspired, divine,” Ezra smiles at you, an excited gleam in his eyes, that you recognise all too well. “I asked him for the recipe and he was benevolent enough to make a gift of it to me, a small souvenir of a joyous visit and happier times.” 

Something in the way he says the last words, a slight slip in the excitement, a flash of something darker across his face, makes you open your mouth. But you close it again as his eyes brighten, the smile comes back up in place and he looks at you. 

“I had to translate the recipe into English of course, and now I have it memorized, from all the times I made it myself.” 

“Let me make a list then, and I’ll get the ingredients for next week, how about next Tuesday night? Does that work for you?” you ask and Ezra nods. 

“Any day would suit me, shortcake,” he grins and you roll your eyes, “But if it’s not too much trouble, I would prefer an earlier day? Maybe tomorrow even? And I’ll help you make it, as long as you have the ingredients?” 

You glance over at your calendar, you have nothing planned for tomorrow night and you’ll have time to get the ingredients into your usual weekly order tonight.

“It’ll be tight, but I think I can make it work, if I place the order straight away. Unless there’s something special in the recipe I should have all the ingredients already, eggs, cocoa and chocolate,” you list the items on your fingers, thinking out loud, “oh, I should get some extra cream.”  

“This chef used milk instead of cream,” Ezra interjects, “he said it made for a lighter soufflé.” 

“Ok, that’s fine, I’ve made them with milk in the past,” you nod, tapping your pen as you think and Ezra studies you, you can feel his eyes on you as his mouth quirks up in a small smile. 

“I do enjoy seeing you entranced by baking,” he says, “your attention to detail in the kitchen has kept me captivated while watching you work.” 

“I saw you, and I’ve got to say, kinda creepy to be watching people like that,” you reply and his eyebrows immediately pull together in an apologetic frown. 

“My apologies, sweet cannoli, but I was truly enwrapped by your work, your skill, I didn’t mean to be unsettling.” He reaches out and puts his hand on yours again, giving it a light squeeze as he leans forward, finding your eyes and searching them to make sure you accept his apology, “I truly am very sorry.” 

“It’s fine, just come in and say hello next time,” you reply, “and never call me ‘cannoli’ again.” The last thing you say with a roll of your eyes and Ezra laughs. 

“I didn’t think that one would stick, didn’t have much of a ring to it.” 

He gives your hand a last squeeze and lets go of it, raising his own in a wave. 

“Until tomorrow then, jelly,” he says and you give him a mock scowl that makes him grin wide, “Not ‘jelly’ either then,” he chuckles, “I’ll think of some new ones for tomorrow.” 

“No pet names necessary, Ezra,” you tell him, but he shakes his head. 

“No, no, you won’t tell me your name, now I make up my own, I will find the perfect one before we’re done. Until tomorrow, muffin.” 

“Absolutely not,” you call after him, “But I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

Ezra gives you a final grin before he exits and you see him walk off down the street. 

He appears again the next day, just before closing like the last time, giving you a polite nod and waiting by the door as you serve your last customer of the day. As the woman leaves, he steps forwards and gives you what feels like a genuine smile, unlike the rehearsed one he’d greeted you with yesterday.

“My sweet cream puff, I have been looking forward to this all day, I’ve been dreaming about finally eating this chocolate soufflé again,” he says, putting his hand on your arm and giving it a light squeeze. His hair looks freshly washed and cut, as does his patchy beard, and he brings a faint smell of cologne into the bakery. With his warm smile and neater appearance, he doesn’t look at all like the unnerving man you’d observed watching you the past few days, and you feel yourself relaxing. 

“Cream puff?” you laugh, “Better, but still not acceptable, Ezra.” 

“I have all evening to get it right,” he grins and holds up a take out bag, “I thought we could perhaps have dinner and not sustain ourselves only on soufflé, delectable as it may be. If that’s not too forward of me?” He says the last thing with his eyebrows raised in question and you shake your head. 

“Not at all, dinner would be nice, I’m getting a little bit hungry already.” 

“Then may I suggest dinner first, and then I get to enjoy the evening’s entertainment; watching you make the soufflé?” 

“Sounds like a plan, let me get some cutlery and glasses and we can eat out here,” you say. As you walk back into the kitchen, you can’t help but smile to yourself. This strange man is growing on you, his smooth southern drawl makes his flowery language work, and you have to admit, he scrubs up well, with his curls and his bright blonde patch. 

When you return with plates and cutlery, Ezra has set the take out on one of the café tables and is struggling with the knot on the plastic bag. You see the annoyance in his face as he tugs at the tight knot, digging his nails into it to get a grip, but failing as the plastic moves under his one hand. The sight fills you with empathy and you’re suddenly very glad you agreed to make him the soufflé. 

He hears your footsteps as you approach and he looks up, “It would seem the plastic bag has me beat,” he sighs, “I wanted to have it all laid out for you as you returned, after all, you’re doing all the baking later, the least I could do is lay the table. But not even that is something I can manage these days with…” He jerks his head in annoyance at the empty sleeve of his jacket and sighs. 

“It’s no bother,” you say, giving him a warm smile to put him at ease, and it seems to work. He smiles back at you, his brown eyes crinkling at the corners and you notice the dimple in his cheek under the patchy beard as he takes a step to the side, letting you put down the plates and cutlery.

“It’s why I agreed to bake the soufflé for you, I’m more than happy to help.” You untie the bag and lift out the containers as Ezra lays the table, taking meticulous care to line up the plates and the cutlery on either side, finding a few napkins and arranging them too. You go behind the counter to get rid of the bag and when you come back, Ezra has pulled out your chair for you and is waiting behind it with a smile. 

“I know this is purely a business transaction, but I have to confess, I’m very happy for the chance to spend an evening in the company of someone who shares my passion for baking”, he says.

“Thank you, Ezra,” you smile as you sit down and he slides the chair in, “I have to admit, I wasn’t sure what you wanted when I first noticed you looking, but this has turned out a lot nicer than just trying to tell another sales rep that I’m not interested in a new oven.” 

Ezra has sat down across from you and now he chuckles, “You thought I was going to sell you a new oven?” 

“A new oven, a new fridge, new baking pans,” you sigh, “you name it, the sales reps have been in here trying to convince me to throw out my working equipment and spend money I don’t have, on their new shiny product.” 

“Well, I’m glad I could surprise you then,” he replies as he begins to open the take out containers, “But I have another confession, I came into your bakery because what you displayed looked incredible, but….” he trails off, glancing up at you with a small smile before he begins scoop rice onto his plate, “I stayed because the woman who runs the bakery is captivating.” 

You feel your cheeks heat up as Ezra looks up at you again and he smiles as he sees your reaction. 

“And I don’t just mean that you’re beautiful, although that is certainly no exaggeration. But your talent…your talent….” he chuckles as you give him a bashful grin, “Sweet twinkie, you kept me captivated with your skill as I watched you through the kitchen door. You have such passion for this,” he waves his hand towards the bakery’s display cases, “so much creative talent and skill, I just…” he gives a small laugh, his hand rubbing his cheek as he drops his eyes down to his plate again, his usual confident manner suddenly replaced by an uncharacteristic shyness, “I wanted a chance to talk to you, if you’d let me.” 

“You’re very sweet, Ezra,” you smile, trying to contain the wide smile that’s threatening to take over your face at his praise. 

“It’s only what you deserve,” he says, smiling back at you and handing you one of the take out boxes, “Please, before it gets cold, I’m letting my mouth run away from me as usual.” 

It turns out Ezra had chosen a number of dishes from a local Indian restaurant down the street and you both groan as you pick your way through the selection. 

“I have to remember this place,” you moan around a mouthful of korma, “it’s incredible.” 

Ezra’s mouth is stuffed full with bhaji and he just nods as he chews, a look of bliss on his face as he swallows. 

“The man who runs it, I spoke with him, was most courteous. He recommended his favorites from the menu and I must say, he sure does know how to make people want to return.” 

“And there will be leftovers for days,” you say, leaning back in your chair, your belly full but there’s still so much food on the table. 

“You keep it, my fridge is out of commission at the moment unfortunately,” Ezra says, “you’ll have the most delicious lunch for the next few days.” 

“I can’t take all this food from you,” you protest but Ezra just shakes his head. 

“I have nowhere to keep it.”

“Then keep it here, and come by and have lunch with me,” you suggest, “we can keep talking about baking and you can spend more time in the bakery, maybe we can figure out some things you can still bake.” 

During the course of the meal Ezra had asked you about every aspect of your baking, your process behind the recipes, the techniques you used, the ingredients and where you sourced them. It had been a rare deep dive into your favorite subject with someone who shared your passion for the trade. You felt your attraction for him steadily grow while he leaned his head into his hand and kept his eyes on you as you went into the details of how to grow and maintain a healthy sourdough starter. 

“You won’t grow bored of my company, moon pie?” he smiled, “And my increasingly desperate names for you?” 

“No, I don’t think I’ll grow bored of you,” you smile back at him, “and your names are getting better.” 

He laughs at that and pushes back his chair, “Then let me be a useful guest and clear this for us, and then we can get to the highlight of the evening perhaps?” 

“Sounds like a plan.” 

You lead him back into the kitchen and the plates and cutlery are soon in your industrial sized dishwasher in the back room. You get the ingredients out onto the workbench as Ezra wanders around the kitchen, looking at your equipment and making approving noises. 

“I was never a professional baker like you, but I’m glad to see you favor the same brands for your pans as I do,” he chuckles, “Makes me feel less like a fraud.” 

“I’m sure you’re just as good as I am,” you reply, “your skill didn’t disappear with your arm.” 

He comes up to stand next to you, and as you look up at him, you see his smile fade as he shakes his head. 

“No, but it might as well have, I held my skill in my right hand, my left just isn’t as steady and sometimes you need two hands.” 

“I’m sorry,” you say, shaking your head, “I didn’t mean that it would be as easy as before, just that your knowledge of baking is still intact.” 

He gives you a small smile, his hand coming up to rest on your shoulder for a brief moment, the warmth of his hand seeping through your t-shirt.

“I know, I just get frustrated as I’m reminded of what I used to be able to do.” 

You lightly bump your hip against his and give him a smile, “Well, we’ve got three hands now, and a lot of skill between us, so this will be the best chocolate soufflé ever made.” 

Ezra chuckles and smiles too, his hand slipping from your shoulder. But he doesn’t lift it, instead it drifts down to the small of your back and he leaves it there, as you lean over the notes you’ve made for the recipe. It sits comfortably against the cotton, a small, intimate touch that signals something else building between you, or at least you hope it does. Ezra is a lot more fun to have around than what you thought when you first saw him, and you’re glad he’s proving you wrong. 

“Alright, I’m putting you on butter duty, I know you can do that one handed,” you say, giving him a wink as you look up at him, you want to involve him in this as much as possible, to make him feel good about baking again.”The ramekins are up on that shelf and the saucepan over there, you know what to do.” 

Ezra grins back at you and gives you a sloppy, left handed, salute, “Yes, ma’am, I’m on it.”  

While he gets started you set up the double boiler on your stove and start whisking the ingredients together. Ezra comes over with the saucepan and stands next to you while he melts the butter and you set up a third saucepan for the caramel. 

“The whisking is the really hard part,” he says as you begin to combine the ingredients, “And even if I use a stand mixer for most things, whisking while it’s over the double boiler proved too hard, the saucepan just slid all over the place.” 

“I wonder if there’s a way to maybe keep the saucepan stable?” you think out loud as you continue to stream the cream into the bowl, “Maybe a non-conductive ring, a silicone mold maybe? It wouldn’t heat up on an induction stove, would it?.” 

“Maybe, that’s not a bad idea actually…” he says thoughtfully and you smile up at him. 

“I can hear the cogs in your head turning, Ezra,” you laugh and he laughs with you. 

“Yeah, you got me thinking there, I’ve got silicone oven mitts at home, I need to try with them first and then figure out where to get a ring shaped piece of silicone. But it’s a really good idea, thank you!” 

He leans down and gives you a quick kiss on your cheek and it catches you by surprise, looking up at him and he smiles back. 

“I apologize, a good deed deserves a nice gesture in return, and your cheeks look very kissable, sweet cheeks.” 

He laughs at your exaggerated sigh and eye roll, bumping your hip in return as you’d done to him, “C’mon now, sweet cheeks, as far as pet names go, that one’s pretty good from my perspective.” 

“Keep trying, Ezra,” you laugh, you can’t maintain your fake look of exasperation when he’s smiling at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners and looking at you with such a mischievous grin. 

“Oh I’ll keep trying, biscuit,” he winks, “I’ll win you over soon enough.” 

He steps away to grab a pastry brush, and as you whisk the batter you watch him coat the inside of the ramekins with melted butter. He struggles a bit at first when the first ramekin starts sliding across the workbench, but you quickly grab a kitchen towel, wetting it under the tap before spreading it out on the counter for him to put the ramekins on. 

“You’re just full of bright ideas, pumpkin,” he smiles gratefully as you go back to the double boiler. 

“I have my moments,” you chuckle and you feel his eyes on you as you continue to whisk the batter. 

“You have more than a few moments, I think you have everything,” he says after a little while, his voice low and sincere. It’s ladened with something deeper and it makes you take your eyes off the batter and look up at him. He’s looking back at you, smiling, but there’s another layer to his eyes, like he’s smiling through a memory. A strange mix of regret and sadness flashes across his face, gone, as quickly as it appeared, and his smile grows wider, you realize it’s not reaching his eyes this time. But as you open your mouth to say something, he speaks first, turning back to the ramekins. 

“What’s the next step, boss?” he asks, his voice back to the same cheerful tone he had just a few moments ago, and you’re certain you can see the mask come up this time. But you don’t challenge him, he’s hiding something, or at least there’s something he doesn’t want to share. So you consult your notes and point him to the egg whites. 

“Use the Husqvarna and make the meringue while I chop the chocolate.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” he replies and gets to work, the whisking made easy this time with the help of the mixer. 

You continue preparing the chocolate batter and when Ezra is done with the meringue, you fold it into the airy egg whites, bringing them together into a light fluffy mixture. Ezra watches you as you drizzle a layer of caramel into the ramekins he’s prepared, leaving him to sprinkle a few flakes of sea salt before you scoop the soufflé batter on top, finishing with him sprinkling another few flakes on the chocolate. 

“Done,” you say, "we make a good team, Ezra.” 

“We do, and you’ve made this one handed fool very happy, letting him finally get to taste these soufflés again,” he says as you laugh and shake your head. 

“No early victories, please! We still have to bake them and you know how fickle soufflés are.” You take the oven tray you’ve placed the ramekins on and carefully move them into the oven, turning down the heat. 

“With this team?” Ezra chuckles, “I have all the faith in the world, cherry pie.” 

“Better,” you smile at him as you watch him wipe down the workbench and then turn to jump up to sit on it. 

“Better?” His eyebrows quirk up as he grins and holds out his hand for you, “Am I getting warm with my names?” 

You jump up on the workbench and sit next to him, shaking your head, “No, I just find the man using them more agreeable.” 

Ezra smiles, his dark eyes glinting as he turns to you, “You didn’t find me agreeable when I first arrived at your bakery?” 

“Not…un-agreeable,” you say, thinking out loud and studying his face, the bright blonde patch of hair over his forehead curling with the heat in the kitchen, as are the unruly strands of hair around his neck, patchy beard over his jaw and cheeks, his mouth twitching up in a smile as he waits for you to continue. 

“Just…hard for me to place? What you wanted. And why you were always looking at me,” you say and Ezra’s smile softens. 

“I looked, because you’re beautiful.” 

He says it so simply, no flourish, no fanfare or exaggeration. Just a statement as he keeps his eyes locked on yours, no smile, no grin, just his face, quietly scanning yours for a reaction. 

You lift your hand and lightly touch his cheek, fingertips tracing his jaw, the short hairs of his beard, tickling under your caress as he slowly exhales. 

He leans his face into your palm, your thumb soothing over the lines at the corners of his eyes as they close, and he lets a small sigh slip out, his warm breath tickling your wrist. Your thumb caresses his cheek while you study his face, the dark eyelashes casting shadows and his features soft, relaxed in a way you haven’t seen since he first showed up. He looks younger as you gently explore his lines with your fingertips and let them melt into softness under your touch. 

A quiet hum escapes him as he tilts his head and lets your hand slip over his jaw and back to his neck. The curls are soft, wayward, and wrap easily around your fingers as you lean forward. The plush swell of his bottom lip is irresistible and you press your mouth carefully against it. 

Ezra’s eyes fly open as your lips meet, his eyes dark and smiling. His hand comes up and gently mirrors your own, cupping your cheek as he presses his lips against yours in return. As you close your eyes, you feel his warm palm hold you steady and you part your lips, the tip of his tongue meeting yours, tasting him. His touch is soft, both his hand and his lips, making warmth spread through your body as he pulls you closer.  

He kisses you like he’s trying to learn how to read you, studying your reaction to how his lips mold against yours as he tastes your tongue under his. Each moan he pulls from you makes him come back to pull it from you again, running his tongue over the same spot, nipping on your bottom lip with a gentle tug. You realize you started the kissing, but Ezra quickly takes control, his hand cupping your cheek, keeping you steady as your own hands caress his back, feeling the bunched muscles under his thin shirt, the warmth of his body heating your palms. You can feel his heartbeat against you, your own pulse thrumming under his fingertips as he pulls another moan from you when his hand slips into your hair.  

He groans into your mouth and scoots off the workbench, pulling you with him so that he gains extra height on you. The change in angle lets him wrap his arm around your shoulders and pull you in closer, pressing his lips to yours as your hands slide down his back, dipping into the waistband of his pants, finding the warm skin just under the edge.

With a groan, he pulls back, his hand still curled around the back of your neck, your arms still around his waist. You look up at him but his eyes are closed and he leans down, letting his nose run along yours, caressing your cheek, down your jaw, breathing hot over your skin, while he nuzzles your neck, inhaling deeply. 

“Like chocolate,” he mutters, “and caramel. What I wouldn’t give…” 

He falls silent, his lips pressing against your neck in a searing kiss that makes heat rush through your body, before he pulls back and stands up. 

“I’d tell you your kisses are the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted in this bakery, but I don’t think even I could get away with that comment,” he smiles and you roll your eyes with a giggle. 

“Not even you, Ezra,” you say, “although I’d say it’s a nice effort and that your kisses are just as sweet.” 

“We make a good team,” he smiles, letting his thumb caress your cheek again as you nod. His eyes are still on you and you feel him studying you again, but it doesn’t feel awkward this time, just…breathtaking. Your breath hitches as his eyes slip over your lips, his thoughts clear on his face as the tip of his tongue peaks out. He’s the one who leans in this time, watching you close your eyes as he presses a gentle kiss to your lips, his thumb and finger catching your chin. When he pulls away a fraction, you open your eyes again and he’s smiling at you. The oven timer is beeping in the background and you hadn’t even noticed, his soft lips distracting you both from the insistent sound. 

“I’ll get the timer, you get the soufflés,” he whispers and you nod slowly as he smiles and presses another soft kiss to your lips. 

“Now, my sweet cherry pie, or we’ll have a very flat dessert.” 

You smile back at him and grab the oven mitts and follow him to the oven. 

This next step is crucial, carefully you open the door and slide out the tray. They’ve risen perfectly but as soon as they’re out of the oven they start cooling down and soon they’ll sink. You set the tray down on the workbench and Ezra brings over two dessert spoons. His face is beaming at the sight of the soufflés, sniffing as the warm chocolate scent fills the kitchen. 

“They smell even better than the ones I made,” he grins as you slide a ramekin over to him. 

“A team effort, Ezra,” you smile, “your recipe, our skill.” 

“Your hands, luckily,” he replies, holding up his first spoonful of soufflé as if he’s toasting you, and you clink your spoon against his before you both have your first taste. 

The flavor is rich in your mouth but the texture is light and airy, a small hint of sal de mer hitting your tongue as you hum around the taste. Ezra’s eyes are closed, his head tilted back as he sucks on the spoon, a low rumble coming from his chest as he savors the chocolate. 

“My sweet soufflé,” he smiles, looking down at you through half closed eyelids, “this…this…is heaven.” 

He digs his spoon in, and gets some of the caramel too, taking another mouthful as he groans again. You copy him and make sure to get both caramel and soufflé on your spoon for your next bite, and Ezra was right, the combination is flawless. You sigh around your spoon, slowly sucking the caramel off it as the chocolate melts in your mouth. Ezra is watching you with dark eyes and a small smile, his own spoon forgotten in his hand. 

“I’d bake for you every day, no matter how much I’d struggle, if I could hear you make that sound again,” he says and it makes you laugh, giggling as he grins. He takes another spoonful of soufflé, smiling as he eats it, some of it catching on his mustache and you point at it. 

“You got some chocolate on your beard there.”

Ezra removes the spoon from his mouth and gives you a sly smirk, “I’m sure I won’t be able to reach it with my tongue, why don’t you help me?”. 

The tone of his voice, the mischief it promises, makes hot energy shoot through your nerves, your skin tingling as you put down your spoon and step closer to him. He’s looking down at you, his eyes full of mirth as you take his chin between your thumb and finger, tilting his head down towards you. He comes willingly, a small smile still lingering, and he’s so close, his hand finding its way to your waist. 

“Can you reach it,” he asks in a low voice and you nod, locking eyes with him. They’re the same rich brown as the soufflé, just as warm and soft right now, as you lean in and run your tongue over the corner of his mouth, finding the errant smudge of chocolate. Catching the edge of his mouth between your lips, you lap at the sweet taste. His hand bunches up your shirt and as you run your tongue over the seam of his mouth, he parts it easily, letting you in. He tastes of the dessert and you know he can taste the same on you. 

“I think you got it,” he mumbles, grinning, against your lips as you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer. 

“I need to make absolutely sure, can’t let you leave with chocolate all over your mouth,” you smile between kisses. 

“You take such good care of me, honey.” 

“That one’s a winner, Ezra,” you mumble, I’ll keep that one.” 

He chuckles, his lips pulling up in a grin under yours as he kisses you again, “But it’s too ordinary, for such an extraordinary woman.” 

“I like it, especially when it comes from you, you’re extraordinary enough for the both of us.” 

Ezra tugs you closer, making you sigh into him as he buries his face against your neck, pressing a kiss against the soft skin before he rests his head on your shoulder. 

“What am I going to do with you,” he says, more a statement than a question, his hand caressing your back, sliding up into your hair, cupping around your neck, “What am I going to do with myself.”

He slowly begins to sway, moving you back and forth in a slow dance without music. 

“I need to leave soon, but I don’t want to,” he mumbles, gently spinning you around as you let your hand rest on his shoulder, the one missing his arm, “I have to leave this warm kitchen, your tender kisses, this sweet nest you’ve built for us.” 

He spins you again, moving your body slowly with his own. 

“This home you’ve created for someone like me.” 

Before you can ask what he means he steps back, taking your hand in his, and with a flourish and bow, he kisses the back of it, making you smile.  

“I am afraid, my sweet baker girl, that it is time for my departure, I will steal no more hours from you,” he says, letting go of your hand and taking his coat from the hook by the kitchen door, shrugging it back on, the empty sleeve hanging limp by his side. The other arm he hooks around your waist and leads you back out to the shop, towards the door. 

“Ezra, it’s pouring outside,” you say, seeing the rain slick street outside, the asphalt shining black under the streetlights, “Let me at least give you a lift home, you’ll get soaked. Where do you live?” 

“No, it’s no trouble, honey pie, my car is parked just a block away. And unlike you, my sweet thing, I am not made of sugar, a little rain won’t melt me,” he grins. 

A twinge of regret hits your heart as you see the mask so clearly come up over his face again, the dark eyes shifting into something less open, the softness fading away even as he smiles at you.

“Do you have to leave?” you ask as he opens the door, and he turns, resting his back against the frame of the door. 

“The illusion has to break,” he says softly, raising his hand and running the back of it over your cheek, giving you a small wink, but the mischief doesn’t reach his eyes this time. 

“What does that mean, Ezra?” you ask but he just shakes his head, leaning forward and pressing his lips to yours. 

“Take care of my soufflé recipe, sweet girl,” he mumbles, pulling back and giving you a crooked smile. Then he turns and hurries across the street, the rain splashing around his shoes as he pulls his collar up and disappears into the darkness between the streetlights. 

…

The bell of the front door jingles just as you’re sweeping the floor, and as you look up, you spot Barbara from the dry cleaner across the street stepping into the shop. 

“Hi, you’re still open this late?” she asks, shaking out her platinum blonde box dye curls and you internally sigh, Barbara is the neighborhood chatterbox and you just want to go home, it’s been a long day. But you put on a smile and continue sweeping.

“I’m just getting ready to leave, what’s up?” 

“I meant to come earlier but I’ve been so busy. I just wanted to warn you in case he comes by here too,” she says, eyes scanning your bakery as if she’s looking for someone.

“Who?” you ask and she turns back to you. 

“There’s a man, you’ve probably seen him, shifty looking guy, he only has one arm, and a weird blonde patch in his hair. He’s been around to all the shops in this neighborhood. I saw him outside your place earlier today.”  

“What about him?” you ask, keeping your voice neutral as you duck down and wipe a shelf that’s already been cleaned, hiding your face. 

“He’s been conning business into giving him free stuff all week, food, clothes, shoes,” Barbara says, wrinkling her nose in disgust at the very nerve of asking for something for free. “Mr. Mason even gave him a haircut and trimmed his beard, how he dared to do that I don’t even know. I wouldn’t even let him into the dry cleaners, you can’t trust people like that.” 

You’re listening, your hand cleaning the same spot over and over as lead settles in your stomach. 

“H-how do you know that?” you ask, moving to the coffee machine, rubbing it down with your back to her. 

“Mrs. Levinson told me that Fanny, you know Fanny, in the flower shop?”

“Yeah, I know here, what did she say?” you ask impatiently, yanking at the milk nozzle, and you hear Barbara scoff behind you. 

“Well, apparently, this man, he told Mr. Olson at the hardware store, that he lost his arm in a construction accident, but Mrs.Saqib’s husband works at the hospital and he said this guy came in last year with a gunshot wound, all infected and nasty. And that’s how he lost his arm,” she snorts, cackling to herself. 

You continue to clean the machine, the heavy weight in your stomach turning to nausea, trying to keep your breathing steady as Ezra’s warm smile floats up inside your mind. 

“He told the police he got shot at a poker game and it was an accident but I reckon he’s lying,” Barbara continues, “men like that, you never know what they get up to, a real nasty piece of work I think.” 

“Thanks Barbara,” you snap, “I really need to close up and get home, thanks for telling me, I’ll be careful if I see him.” 

You usher her to the door as she huffs at the abrupt interruption to her gossip session but you can’t get her out fast enough, slamming the door harder than necessary and giving her a strained smile through the window as she waves. 

You hurry back to the kitchen, the ramekins still on the workbench and Ezra’s spoon next to them, just where he’d put it before he kissed you no more than a little while ago. You can’t even look at it, pulling your coat off the hook, you rush out through the back door and into the rain. 

Early next morning, long before the rest of the world is awake, you’re back at the bakery after a sleepless night. No matter how little rest you got, the bakery has to open, and for it to open, you need to bake. Familiar motions of the early hours, a chance to stop your mind from spinning, it feels like a small relief today. The thoughts of Ezra in your tired mind won’t let your head relax and as you walk up to the back steps you almost miss the envelope pushed under the door. 

You unlock the door and slip out the note inside while you step inside. The piece of paper is folded in an uneven line and as you smooth it out you see the unsteady handwriting of someone who’s writing with the wrong hand. 

I know what they say about me, the gossip, the rumors, and I confess, most of it is true. I’m sorry. I wish I was a different man, I wish I could offer you something, anything, but I have nothing to give to anyone.  

I did tell you the truth in the end though. You captivate me. You will always be my most cherished memory. That will always be true. 

Always yours, 

Ezra 

Part Six

Two links this time, one to the NYT recipe and one to the wonderful Claire Saffitz's making the souffles if you want to attempt them yourselves. I've added the caramel and sea salt though, as an extra layer of Ezra ☺

Tag list: @harriedandharassed @inept-the-magnificent @sheepdogchick3  @readingiskeepingmegoing @noisynightmarepoetry @survivingandenduring @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @oberynslady @vabeachazn

#Youtube

[grogusmum]

Happy Valentine's Hazel! 😘

I'll go for 💜 please.

Love you! 🖤

JETT!

Awwww, the most romantic Pedro Boy Marcus Pike!!

I have no doubt you are in excellent hands!

Hazel's Pedro Boy Conversation Heart Ask Game

#hazel's valentine shenanigans #ask games

[benzyon]

Names For Scrivener

I wanted more names for my scrivener so I looked up a long ass list of names and formatted it to be uploaded by scrivener for the random name generator.

I will say there are 1,000 boy and girl names in this list but they dont have an ethnicity or name meaning tagged on them. I wanted to just do a quick thing for names to import on scriveners name generator. I figured I might as well share it all. Its under the read more if you want the list ^^ I didnt want to make a giant ass post followers who didnt care would have to deal with.

Aarav,M, , Aaron,M, , Abdiel,M, , Abdullah,M, , Abel,M, , Abraham,M, , Abram,M, , Ace,M, , Achilles,M, , Adam,M, , Adan,M, , Aden,M, , Adonis,M, , Adrian,M, , Adriel,M, , Adrien,M, , Ahmad,M, , Ahmed,M, , Ahmir,M, , Aidan,M, , Aiden,M, , Alan,M, , Alaric,M, , Albert,M, , Alberto,M, , Alden,M, , Aldo,M, , Alec,M, , Alejandro,M, , Alessandro,M, , Alex,M, , Alexander,M, , Alexis,M, , Alexzander,M, , Alfonso,M, , Alfred,M, , Alfredo,M, , Ali,M, , Alijah,M, , Allan,M, , Allen,M, , Alonso,M, , Alonzo,M, , Alvaro,M, , Alvin,M, , Amari,M, , Ameer,M, , Amir,M, , Amos,M, , Anakin,M, , Anders,M, , Anderson,M, , Andre,M, , Andres,M, , Andrew,M, , Andy,M, , Angel,M, , Angelo,M, , Anson,M, , Anthony,M, , Antonio,M, , Apollo,M, , Archer,M, , Archie,M, , Ares,M, , Ari,M, , Arian,M, , Ariel,M, , Aries,M, , Arjun,M, , Arlo,M, , Armando,M, , Armani,M, , Aron,M, , Arthur,M, , Arturo,M, , Aryan,M, , Asa,M, , Asher,M, , Ashton,M, , Atlas,M, , Atticus,M, , August,M, , Augustine,M, , Augustus,M, , Austin,M, , Avery,M, , Avi,M, , Axel,M, , Axl,M, , Axton,M, , Ayaan,M, , Ayden,M, , Aydin,M, , Azariah,M, , Baker,M, , Barrett,M, , Baylor,M, , Beau,M, , Beckett,M, , Beckham,M, , Ben,M, , Benedict,M, , Benicio,M, , Benjamin,M, , Bennett,M, , Benson,M, , Bentlee,M, , Bentley,M, , Benton,M, , Billy,M, , Bishop,M, , Bjorn,M, , Blaine,M, , Blake,M, , Blaze,M, , Bo,M, , Bobby,M, , Bode,M, , Boden,M, , Bodhi,M, , Bodie,M, , Boone,M, , Boston,M, , Bowen,M, , Bowie,M, , Braden,M, , Bradley,M, , Brady,M, , Brandon,M, , Branson,M, , Brantley,M, , Braxton,M, , Brayan,M, , Brayden,M, , Braydon,M, , Braylen,M, , Braylon,M, , Brecken,M, , Brendan,M, , Brennan,M, , Brentley,M, , Brett,M, , Brian,M, , Briar,M, , Bridger,M, , Briggs,M, , Brixton,M, , Brock,M, , Brodie,M, , Brody,M, , Bronson,M, , Brooks,M, , Bruce,M, , Bruno,M, , Bryan,M, , Bryant,M, , Bryce,M, , Brycen,M, , Brysen,M, , Bryson,M, , Byron,M, , Cade,M, , Caden,M, , Caiden,M, , Cain,M, , Cairo,M, , Caleb,M, , Callan,M, , Callen,M, , Callum,M, , Calvin,M, , Camden,M, , Camdyn,M, , Cameron,M, , Camilo,M, , Canaan,M, , Cannon,M, , Carl,M, , Carlos,M, , Carmelo,M, , Carson,M, , Carter,M, , Case,M, , Casen,M, , Casey,M, , Cash,M, , Cason,M, , Caspian,M, , Cassius,M, , Castiel,M, , Cayden,M, , Cayson,M, , Cedric,M, , Cesar,M, , Chad,M, , Chaim,M, , Chance,M, , Chandler,M, , Charles,M, , Charlie,M, , Chase,M, , Chris,M, , Christian,M, , Christopher,M, , Clark,M, , Clay,M, , Clayton,M, , Clyde,M, , Cody,M, , Coen,M, , Cohen,M, , Colby,M, , Cole,M, , Coleman,M, , Colin,M, , Collin,M, , Colson,M, , Colt,M, , Colten,M, , Colton,M, , Conner,M, , Connor,M, , Conor,M, , Conrad,M, , Cooper,M, , Corbin,M, , Corey,M, , Cory,M, , Creed,M, , Crew,M, , Cristian,M, , Cristiano,M, , Crosby,M, , Cruz,M, , Cullen,M, , Curtis,M, , Cyrus,M, , Dakari,M, , Dakota,M, , Dallas,M, , Dalton,M, , Damari,M, , Damian,M, , Damien,M, , Damon,M, , Dane,M, , Dangelo,M, , Daniel,M, , Danny,M, , Dante,M, , Darian,M, , Dariel,M, , Dario,M, , Darius,M, , Darren,M, , Darwin,M, , Dash,M, , Davian,M, , David,M, , Davion,M, , Davis,M, , Dawson,M, , Dax,M, , Daxton,M, , Dayton,M, , Deacon,M, , Dean,M, , Deandre,M, , Deangelo,M, , Decker,M, , Declan,M, , Demetrius,M, , Dennis,M, , Denver,M, , Derek,M, , Derrick,M, , Deshawn,M, , Desmond,M, , Devin,M, , Devon,M, , Dexter,M, , Diego,M, , Dillon,M, , Dominic,M, , Dominick,M, , Dominik,M, , Donald,M, , Donovan,M, , Dorian,M, , Douglas,M, , Drake,M, , Draven,M, , Drew,M, , Duke,M, , Duncan,M, , Dustin,M, , Dwayne,M, , Dylan,M, , Easton,M, , Eddie,M, , Eden,M, , Edgar,M, , Edison,M, , Eduardo,M, , Edward,M, , Edwin,M, , Eli,M, , Elian,M, , Elias,M, , Elijah,M, , Eliseo,M, , Elisha,M, , Elliot,M, , Elliott,M, , Ellis,M, , Elon,M, , Emanuel,M, , Emerson,M, , Emery,M, , Emiliano,M, , Emilio,M, , Emmanuel,M, , Emmett,M, , Emmitt,M, , Emory,M, , Enoch,M, , Enrique,M, , Enzo,M, , Ephraim,M, , Eric,M, , Erick,M, , Erik,M, , Ernest,M, , Ernesto,M, , Esteban,M, , Ethan,M, , Eugene,M, , Evan,M, , Everett,M, , Ezekiel,M, , Ezequiel,M, , Ezra,M, , Fabian,M, , Felipe,M, , Felix,M, , Fernando,M, , Finley,M, , Finn,M, , Finnegan,M, , Finnley,M, , Fisher,M, , Fletcher,M, , Flynn,M, , Ford,M, , Forest,M, , Forrest,M, , Fox,M, , Francis,M, , Francisco,M, , Franco,M, , Frank,M, , Franklin,M, , Frederick,M, , Gabriel,M, , Gael,M, , Gage,M, , Gannon,M, , Garrett,M, , Gary,M, , Gatlin,M, , Gavin,M, , Genesis,M, , George,M, , Gerald,M, , Gerardo,M, , Gianni,M, , Gibson,M, , Gideon,M, , Giovanni,M, , Gordon,M, , Grady,M, , Graham,M, , Grant,M, , Graysen,M, , Grayson,M, , Gregory,M, , Grey,M, , Greyson,M, , Griffin,M, , Guillermo,M, , Gunnar,M, , Gunner,M, , Gus,M, , Gustavo,M, , Hamza,M, , Hank,M, , Harlan,M, , Harlem,M, , Harley,M, , Harold,M, , Harper,M, , Harrison,M, , Harry,M, , Harvey,M, , Hassan,M, , Hayden,M, , Hayes,M, , Heath,M, , Hector,M, , Hendrix,M, , Henrik,M, , Henry,M, , Hezekiah,M, , Holden,M, , Houston,M, , Howard,M, , Hudson,M, , Hugh,M, , Hugo,M, , Hunter,M, , Huxley,M, , Ian,M, , Ibrahim,M, , Idris,M, , Ignacio,M, , Iker,M, , Immanuel,M, , Imran,M, , Ira,M, , Isaac,M, , Isaiah,M, , Isaias,M, , Ishaan,M, , Ismael,M, , Israel,M, , Issac,M, , Ivan,M, , Izaiah,M, , Jabari,M, , Jace,M, , Jack,M, , Jackson,M, , Jacob,M, , Jacoby,M, , Jad,M, , Jaden,M, , Jadiel,M, , Jagger,M, , Jaiden,M, , Jaime,M, , Jairo,M, , Jake,M, , Jakob,M, , Jalen,M, , Jamal,M, , Jamari,M, , James,M, , Jameson,M, , Jamie,M, , Jamir,M, , Jamison,M, , Jared,M, , Jase,M, , Jasiah,M, , Jason,M, , Jasper,M, , Javier,M, , Javion,M, , Jax,M, , Jaxen,M, , Jaxon,M, , Jaxson,M, , Jaxton,M, , Jaxtyn,M, , Jaxx,M, , Jaxxon,M, , Jay,M, , Jayce,M, , Jayceon,M, , Jayden,M, , Jaylen,M, , Jayson,M, , Jaziel,M, , Jedidiah,M, , Jefferson,M, , Jeffery,M, , Jeffrey,M, , Jensen,M, , Jeremiah,M, , Jeremias,M, , Jeremy,M, , Jericho,M, , Jermaine,M, , Jerome,M, , Jerry,M, , Jesiah,M, , Jesse,M, , Jesus,M, , Jett,M, , Jimmy,M, , Joaquin,M, , Joe,M, , Joel,M, , Joey,M, , Johan,M, , John,M, , Johnathan,M, , Johnny,M, , Jon,M, , Jonah,M, , Jonas,M, , Jonathan,M, , Jordan,M, , Jordy,M, , Jorge,M, , Jose,M, , Joseph,M, , Joshua,M, , Josiah,M, , Josue,M, , Joziah,M, , Juan,M, , Judah,M, , Jude,M, , Judson,M, , Juelz,M, , Julian,M, , Julien,M, , Julio,M, , Julius,M, , Junior,M, , Justice,M, , Justin,M, , Justus,M, , Kabir,M, , Kace,M, , Kade,M, , Kaden,M, , Kai,M, , Kaiden,M, , Kairo,M, , Kaiser,M, , Kaison,M, , Kaleb,M, , Kalel,M, , Kamari,M, , Kamden,M, , Kamdyn,M, , Kameron,M, , Kamryn,M, , Kane,M, , Kannon,M, , Kareem,M, , Karson,M, , Karsyn,M, , Karter,M, , Kase,M, , Kasen,M, , Kash,M, , Kashton,M, , Kason,M, , Kayden,M, , Kaysen,M, , Kayson,M, , Keagan,M, , Keanu,M, , Keaton,M, , Keegan,M, , Keenan,M, , Keith,M, , Kellan,M, , Kellen,M, , Kelvin,M, , Kendall,M, , Kendrick,M, , Kenneth,M, , Kenzo,M, , Kevin,M, , Khalid,M, , Khalil,M, , Khari,M, , Kian,M, , Kieran,M, , Killian,M, , King,M, , Kingsley,M, , Kingston,M, , Knox,M, , Koa,M, , Kobe,M, , Koda,M, , Kody,M, , Kohen,M, , Kole,M, , Kolton,M, , Konnor,M, , Korbin,M, , Korbyn,M, , Krew,M, , Kristian,M, , Kristopher,M, , Kye,M, , Kylan,M, , Kyle,M, , Kylen,M, , Kyler,M, , Kylo,M, , Kyng,M, , Kyree,M, , Kyrie,M, , Kyson,M, , Lachlan,M, , Lance,M, , Landen,M, , Landon,M, , Landry,M, , Landyn,M, , Lane,M, , Langston,M, , Larry,M, , Lawrence,M, , Lawson,M, , Layne,M, , Layton,M, , Leandro,M, , Ledger,M, , Lee,M, , Legend,M, , Leighton,M, , Leland,M, , Lennon,M, , Lennox,M, , Leo,M, , Leon,M, , Leonard,M, , Leonardo,M, , Leonel,M, , Leonidas,M, , Leroy,M, , Levi,M, , Lewis,M, , Liam,M, , Lian,M, , Lincoln,M, , Lionel,M, , Lochlan,M, , Logan,M, , London,M, , Lorenzo,M, , Louie,M, , Louis,M, , Luca,M, , Lucas,M, , Lucca,M, , Lucian,M, , Luciano,M, , Luis,M, , Luka,M, , Lukas,M, , Luke,M, , Lyle,M, , Lyric,M, , Mack,M, , Madden,M, , Maddox,M, , Maddux,M, , Magnus,M, , Maison,M, , Major,M, , Makai,M, , Malachi,M, , Malakai,M, , Malcolm,M, , Malik,M, , Manuel,M, , Marc,M, , Marcel,M, , Marcellus,M, , Marcelo,M, , Marco,M, , Marcos,M, , Marcus,M, , Mario,M, , Mark,M, , Markus,M, , Marley,M, , Marlon,M, , Marshall,M, , Martin,M, , Marvin,M, , Mason,M, , Mateo,M, , Mathew,M, , Mathias,M, , Matias,M, , Matteo,M, , Matthew,M, , Matthias,M, , Maurice,M, , Mauricio,M, , Maverick,M, , Max,M, , Maxim,M, , Maximilian,M, , Maximiliano,M, , Maximo,M, , Maximus,M, , Maxton,M, , Maxwell,M, , Mayson,M, , Mekhi,M, , Melvin,M, , Memphis,M, , Merrick,M, , Messiah,M, , Micah,M, , Michael,M, , Miguel,M, , Milan,M, , Miles,M, , Miller,M, , Milo,M, , Misael,M, , Mitchell,M, , Mohamed,M, , Mohammad,M, , Mohammed,M, , Moises,M, , Mordechai,M, , Morgan,M, , Moses,M, , Moshe,M, , Muhammad,M, , Musa,M, , Mustafa,M, , Myles,M, , Nash,M, , Nasir,M, , Nathan,M, , Nathanael,M, , Nathaniel,M, , Nehemiah,M, , Neil,M, , Nelson,M, , Nicholas,M, , Nickolas,M, , Nico,M, , Nicolas,M, , Niko,M, , Nikolai,M, , Nikolas,M, , Nixon,M, , Noah,M, , Noe,M, , Noel,M, , Nolan,M, , Nova,M, , Oakley,M, , Odin,M, , Oliver,M, , Omar,M, , Omari,M, , Onyx,M, , Orion,M, , Orlando,M, , Oscar,M, , Otis,M, , Otto,M, , Owen,M, , Pablo,M, , Parker,M, , Patrick,M, , Paul,M, , Paxton,M, , Payton,M, , Pedro,M, , Peter,M, , Peyton,M, , Philip,M, , Phillip,M, , Phoenix,M, , Pierce,M, , Porter,M, , Preston,M, , Prince,M, , Princeton,M, , Quentin,M, , Quincy,M, , Quinn,M, , Quinton,M, , Rafael,M, , Raiden,M, , Ralph,M, , Ramon,M, , Randall,M, , Randy,M, , Raphael,M, , Raul,M, , Ray,M, , Rayan,M, , Rayden,M, , Raylan,M, , Raymond,M, , Reece,M, , Reed,M, , Reese,M, , Reginald,M, , Reid,M, , Reign,M, , Remington,M, , Remy,M, , Rene,M, , Reuben,M, , Rex,M, , Rey,M, , Reyansh,M, , Rhett,M, , Rhys,M, , Ricardo,M, , Richard,M, , Ricky,M, , Ridge,M, , Riley,M, , River,M, , Robert,M, , Roberto,M, , Rocco,M, , Rocky,M, , Rodney,M, , Rodrigo,M, , Rogelio,M, , Roger,M, , Rohan,M, , Roland,M, , Roman,M, , Romeo,M, , Ronald,M, , Ronan,M, , Ronin,M, , Ronnie,M, , Rory,M, , Rowan,M, , Rowen,M, , Roy,M, , Royal,M, , Royce,M, , Ruben,M, , Rudy,M, , Russell,M, , Ryan,M, , Ryder,M, , Ryker,M, , Rylan,M, , Ryland,M, , Sage,M, , Saint,M, , Salvador,M, , Salvatore,M, , Sam,M, , Samir,M, , Samson,M, , Samuel,M, , Santana,M, , Santiago,M, , Santino,M, , Saul,M, , Sawyer,M, , Scott,M, , Sean,M, , Sebastian,M, , Sergio,M, , Seth,M, , Shane,M, , Shawn,M, , Shepard,M, , Shepherd,M, , Shiloh,M, , Silas,M, , Simon,M, , Sincere,M, , Skylar,M, , Skyler,M, , Solomon,M, , Sonny,M, , Soren,M, , Spencer,M, , Stanley,M, , Stefan,M, , Stephen,M, , Sterling,M, , Stetson,M, , Steven,M, , Sullivan,M, , Sutton,M, , Sylas,M, , Tadeo,M, , Talon,M, , Tanner,M, , Tate,M, , Tatum,M, , Taylor,M, , Terrance,M, , Terrell,M, , Terrence,M, , Terry,M, , Thaddeus,M, , Thatcher,M, , Theo,M, , Theodore,M, , Thiago,M, , Thomas,M, , Timothy,M, , Titan,M, , Titus,M, , Tobias,M, , Toby,M, , Tomas,M, , Tommy,M, , Tony,M, , Torin,M, , Trace,M, , Travis,M, , Trent,M, , Trenton,M, , Trevor,M, , Trey,M, , Tripp,M, , Tristan,M, , Tristen,M, , Tristian,M, , Troy,M, , Tucker,M, , Turner,M, , Ty,M, , Tyler,M, , Tyson,M, , Ulises,M, , Uriah,M, , Uriel,M, , Valentin,M, , Valentino,M, , Van,M, , Vance,M, , Vicente,M, , Victor,M, , Vihaan,M, , Vincent,M, , Vincenzo,M, , Vivaan,M, , Wade,M, , Walker,M, , Wallace,M, , Walter,M, , Warren,M, , Watson,M, , Waylon,M, , Wayne,M, , Wells,M, , Wesley,M, , Wesson,M, , Westin,M, , Westley,M, , Weston,M, , Wilder,M, , Will,M, , William,M, , Willie,M, , Wilson,M, , Winston,M, , Wyatt,M, , Xander,M, , Xavier,M, , Xzavier,M, , Yael,M, , Yahir,M, , Yehuda,M, , Yosef,M, , Yousef,M, , Yusuf,M, , Zachariah,M, , Zachary,M, , Zahir,M, , Zaid,M, , Zaiden,M, , Zain,M, , Zaire,M, , Zakai,M, , Zander,M, , Zane,M, , Zavier,M, , Zayd,M, , Zayden,M, , Zayn,M, , Zayne,M, , Zechariah,M, , Zeke,M, , Zev,M, , Zion,M, , Zyaire,M, , Aaliyah,F, , Abby,F, , Abigail,F, , Ada,F, , Adalee,F, , Adaline,F, , Adalyn,F, , Adalynn,F, , Addilyn,F, , Addilynn,F, , Addison,F, , Addisyn,F, , Addyson,F, , Adelaide,F, , Adele,F, , Adelina,F, , Adeline,F, , Adelyn,F, , Adelynn,F, , Adley,F, , Adriana,F, , Adrianna,F, , Adrienne,F, , Ailani,F, , Aileen,F, , Ainsley,F, , Aisha,F, , Aislinn,F, , Aitana,F, , Aiyana,F, , Alaia,F, , Alaina,F, , Alana,F, , Alani,F, , Alanna,F, , Alannah,F, , Alaya,F, , Alayah,F, , Alayna,F, , Aleah,F, , Aleena,F, , Alejandra,F, , Alena,F, , Alessandra,F, , Alessia,F, , Alexa,F, , Alexandra,F, , Alexandria,F, , Alexia,F, , Alexis,F, , Alia,F, , Aliana,F, , Alianna,F, , Alice,F, , Alicia,F, , Alina,F, , Alisha,F, , Alison,F, , Alisson,F, , Alivia,F, , Aliya,F, , Aliyah,F, , Aliza,F, , Allie,F, , Allison,F, , Allyson,F, , Alma,F, , Alondra,F, , Alora,F, , Alyson,F, , Alyssa,F, , Amaia,F, , Amalia,F, , Amanda,F, , Amani,F, , Amara,F, , Amari,F, , Amaris,F, , Amaya,F, , Amayah,F, , Amber,F, , Amelia,F, , Amelie,F, , Amia,F, , Amina,F, , Amira,F, , Amirah,F, , Amiya,F, , Amiyah,F, , Amora,F, , Amy,F, , Ana,F, , Anahi,F, , Anais,F, , Analia,F, , Anastasia,F, , Anaya,F, , Andi,F, , Andrea,F, , Angel,F, , Angela,F, , Angelica,F, , Angelina,F, , Angie,F, , Anika,F, , Aniya,F, , Aniyah,F, , Ann,F, , Anna,F, , Annabel,F, , Annabella,F, , Annabelle,F, , Annalee,F, , Annalise,F, , Anne,F, , Annie,F, , Annika,F, , Ansley,F, , Antonella,F, , Anya,F, , April,F, , Arabella,F, , Arden,F, , Arely,F, , Ari,F, , Aria,F, , Ariadne,F, , Ariah,F, , Ariana,F, , Arianna,F, , Ariel,F, , Ariella,F, , Arielle,F, , Ariya,F, , Ariyah,F, , Arlette,F, , Armani,F, , Arya,F, , Ashley,F, , Ashlyn,F, , Ashlynn,F, , Aspen,F, , Astrid,F, , Athena,F, , Aubree,F, , Aubrey,F, , Aubrie,F, , Aubriella,F, , Aubrielle,F, , Audrey,F, , August,F, , Aurelia,F, , Aurora,F, , Austyn,F, , Autumn,F, , Ava,F, , Avah,F, , Avalyn,F, , Avalynn,F, , Averi,F, , Averie,F, , Avery,F, , Aviana,F, , Avianna,F, , Aya,F, , Ayla,F, , Ayleen,F, , Aylin,F, , Azalea,F, , Azaria,F, , Azariah,F, , Bailee,F, , Bailey,F, , Barbara,F, , Baylee,F, , Beatrice,F, , Belen,F, , Bella,F, , Bellamy,F, , Belle,F, , Berkley,F, , Bethany,F, , Bexley,F, , Bianca,F, , Blair,F, , Blaire,F, , Blake,F, , Blakely,F, , Bonnie,F, , Braelyn,F, , Braelynn,F, , Braylee,F, , Bria,F, , Briana,F, , Brianna,F, , Briar,F, , Bridget,F, , Briella,F, , Brielle,F, , Brinley,F, , Bristol,F, , Brittany,F, , Brooke,F, , Brooklyn,F, , Brooklynn,F, , Brylee,F, , Brynlee,F, , Brynleigh,F, , Brynn,F, , Cadence,F, , Cali,F, , Callie,F, , Calliope,F, , Cameron,F, , Camila,F, , Camilla,F, , Camille,F, , Camryn,F, , Cara,F, , Carly,F, , Carmen,F, , Carolina,F, , Caroline,F, , Carolyn,F, , Carter,F, , Casey,F, , Cassandra,F, , Cassidy,F, , Cataleya,F, , Catalina,F, , Catherine,F, , Cecelia,F, , Cecilia,F, , Celeste,F, , Celia,F, , Celine,F, , Chana,F, , Chanel,F, , Charlee,F, , Charleigh,F, , Charley,F, , Charli,F, , Charlie,F, , Charlotte,F, , Chaya,F, , Chelsea,F, , Cheyenne,F, , Chloe,F, , Christina,F, , Christine,F, , Claire,F, , Clara,F, , Clare,F, , Clarissa,F, , Claudia,F, , Clementine,F, , Colette,F, , Collins,F, , Cora,F, , Coraline,F, , Corinne,F, , Crystal,F, , Cynthia,F, , Dahlia,F, , Daisy,F, , Dakota,F, , Dalary,F, , Daleyza,F, , Dallas,F, , Dana,F, , Dani,F, , Daniela,F, , Daniella,F, , Danielle,F, , Danna,F, , Daphne,F, , Davina,F, , Dayana,F, , Deborah,F, , Delaney,F, , Delilah,F, , Della,F, , Demi,F, , Destiny,F, , Diana,F, , Dior,F, , Dorothy,F, , Dream,F, , Dulce,F, , Dylan,F, , Eden,F, , Edith,F, , Egypt,F, , Eileen,F, , Elaina,F, , Elaine,F, , Eleanor,F, , Elena,F, , Eliana,F, , Elianna,F, , Elina,F, , Elisa,F, , Elisabeth,F, , Elise,F, , Eliza,F, , Elizabeth,F, , Ella,F, , Elle,F, , Ellen,F, , Elliana,F, , Ellianna,F, , Ellie,F, , Elliot,F, , Elliott,F, , Ellis,F, , Ellison,F, , Eloise,F, , Elora,F, , Elsa,F, , Elsie,F, , Elyse,F, , Ember,F, , Emberly,F, , Emelia,F, , Emely,F, , Emerie,F, , Emerson,F, , Emersyn,F, , Emery,F, , Emilee,F, , Emilia,F, , Emily,F, , Emma,F, , Emmaline,F, , Emmalyn,F, , Emmalynn,F, , Emmarie,F, , Emmeline,F, , Emmie,F, , Emmy,F, , Emory,F, , Ensley,F, , Erica,F, , Erika,F, , Erin,F, , Esme,F, , Esmeralda,F, , Esperanza,F, , Estella,F, , Estelle,F, , Esther,F, , Estrella,F, , Etta,F, , Eva,F, , Evangeline,F, , Eve,F, , Evelyn,F, , Evelynn,F, , Everlee,F, , Everleigh,F, , Everly,F, , Evie,F, , Ezra,F, , Faith,F, , Fatima,F, , Faye,F, , Felicity,F, , Fernanda,F, , Finley,F, , Fiona,F, , Florence,F, , Frances,F, , Francesca,F, , Frankie,F, , Freya,F, , Frida,F, , Gabriela,F, , Gabriella,F, , Gabrielle,F, , Galilea,F, , Gemma,F, , Genesis,F, , Genevieve,F, , Georgia,F, , Gia,F, , Giana,F, , Gianna,F, , Giavanna,F, , Giovanna,F, , Giselle,F, , Giuliana,F, , Gloria,F, , Grace,F, , Gracelyn,F, , Gracelynn,F, , Gracie,F, , Greta,F, , Guadalupe,F, , Gwen,F, , Gwendolyn,F, , Hadassah,F, , Hadlee,F, , Hadleigh,F, , Hadley,F, , Hailee,F, , Hailey,F, , Haisley,F, , Haley,F, , Halle,F, , Hallie,F, , Hana,F, , Hanna,F, , Hannah,F, , Harlee,F, , Harleigh,F, , Harley,F, , Harlow,F, , Harmoni,F, , Harmony,F, , Harper,F, , Hattie,F, , Haven,F, , Hayden,F, , Haylee,F, , Hayley,F, , Hazel,F, , Heaven,F, , Heavenly,F, , Heidi,F, , Helen,F, , Helena,F, , Henley,F, , Holland,F, , Holly,F, , Hope,F, , Hunter,F, , Iliana,F, , Imani,F, , India,F, , Ingrid,F, , Irene,F, , Iris,F, , Isabel,F, , Isabela,F, , Isabella,F, , Isabelle,F, , Isla,F, , Itzayana,F, , Itzel,F, , Ivanna,F, , Ivory,F, , Ivy,F, , Izabella,F, , Jacqueline,F, , Jada,F, , Jade,F, , Jaelyn,F, , Jaelynn,F, , Jaliyah,F, , Jamie,F, , Jana,F, , Jane,F, , Janelle,F, , Janessa,F, , Janiyah,F, , Jasmine,F, , Jaycee,F, , Jayda,F, , Jayde,F, , Jayden,F, , Jayla,F, , Jaylah,F, , Jaylee,F, , Jayleen,F, , Jaylene,F, , Jazlyn,F, , Jazlynn,F, , Jazmin,F, , Jazmine,F, , Jemma,F, , Jenesis,F, , Jenna,F, , Jennifer,F, , Jessica,F, , Jessie,F, , Jewel,F, , Jillian,F, , Jimena,F, , Joanna,F, , Jocelyn,F, , Joelle,F, , Johanna,F, , Jolene,F, , Jolie,F, , Jordan,F, , Jordyn,F, , Joselyn,F, , Josephine,F, , Josie,F, , Journee,F, , Journey,F, , Journi,F, , Joy,F, , Joyce,F, , Judith,F, , Julia,F, , Juliana,F, , Julianna,F, , Julie,F, , Juliet,F, , Julieta,F, , Juliette,F, , Julissa,F, , June,F, , Juniper,F, , Jurnee,F, , Justice,F, , Kadence,F, , Kaelyn,F, , Kai,F, , Kaia,F, , Kailani,F, , Kailey,F, , Kailyn,F, , Kairi,F, , Kaitlyn,F, , Kaiya,F, , Kalani,F, , Kali,F, , Kaliyah,F, , Kallie,F, , Kamila,F, , Kamilah,F, , Kamiyah,F, , Kamryn,F, , Kara,F, , Karen,F, , Karina,F, , Karla,F, , Karlee,F, , Karsyn,F, , Karter,F, , Kassidy,F, , Kataleya,F, , Katalina,F, , Kate,F, , Katelyn,F, , Katherine,F, , Kathleen,F, , Kathryn,F, , Katie,F, , Kaydence,F, , Kayla,F, , Kaylani,F, , Kaylee,F, , Kayleigh,F, , Kaylie,F, , Kaylin,F, , Kehlani,F, , Keilani,F, , Keily,F, , Keira,F, , Kelly,F, , Kelsey,F, , Kendall,F, , Kendra,F, , Kenia,F, , Kenley,F, , Kenna,F, , Kennedi,F, , Kennedy,F, , Kensley,F, , Kenzie,F, , Keyla,F, , Khaleesi,F, , Khloe,F, , Kiana,F, , Kiara,F, , Kiera,F, , Kimber,F, , Kimberly,F, , Kimora,F, , Kinley,F, , Kinslee,F, , Kinsley,F, , Kira,F, , Kora,F, , Kori,F, , Kyla,F, , Kylee,F, , Kyleigh,F, , Kylie,F, , Kynlee,F, , Kyra,F, , Lacey,F, , Laila,F, , Lailah,F, , Lainey,F, , Lana,F, , Landry,F, , Laney,F, , Lara,F, , Laura,F, , Laurel,F, , Lauren,F, , Lauryn,F, , Layla,F, , Laylah,F, , Lea,F, , Leah,F, , Leanna,F, , Legacy,F, , Leia,F, , Leighton,F, , Leila,F, , Leilani,F, , Lena,F, , Lennon,F, , Lennox,F, , Leona,F, , Leslie,F, , Lexi,F, , Lexie,F, , Leyla,F, , Lia,F, , Liana,F, , Liberty,F, , Lila,F, , Lilah,F, , Lilian,F, , Liliana,F, , Lilianna,F, , Lilith,F, , Lillian,F, , Lilliana,F, , Lillianna,F, , Lillie,F, , Lilly,F, , Lily,F, , Lilyana,F, , Lina,F, , Linda,F, , Lindsey,F, , Lisa,F, , Liv,F, , Livia,F, , Logan,F, , Lola,F, , London,F, , Londyn,F, , Lorelai,F, , Lorelei,F, , Louisa,F, , Louise,F, , Lucia,F, , Luciana,F, , Lucille,F, , Lucy,F, , Luella,F, , Luna,F, , Lyanna,F, , Lydia,F, , Lyla,F, , Lylah,F, , Lyra,F, , Lyric,F, , Mabel,F, , Maci,F, , Macie,F, , Mackenzie,F, , Macy,F, , Madalyn,F, , Madalynn,F, , Maddison,F, , Madeleine,F, , Madeline,F, , Madelyn,F, , Madelynn,F, , Madilyn,F, , Madilynn,F, , Madison,F, , Madisyn,F, , Mae,F, , Maeve,F, , Maggie,F, , Magnolia,F, , Maia,F, , Maisie,F, , Makayla,F, , Makenna,F, , Makenzie,F, , Malani,F, , Malaya,F, , Malaysia,F, , Maleah,F, , Malia,F, , Maliah,F, , Maliyah,F, , Mallory,F, , Mara,F, , Maren,F, , Margaret,F, , Margo,F, , Margot,F, , Maria,F, , Mariah,F, , Mariam,F, , Mariana,F, , Marianna,F, , Marie,F, , Marilyn,F, , Marina,F, , Marisol,F, , Marissa,F, , Marlee,F, , Marleigh,F, , Marley,F, , Martha,F, , Mary,F, , Maryam,F, , Matilda,F, , Mavis,F, , Maxine,F, , Maya,F, , Mckenna,F, , Mckenzie,F, , Mckinley,F, , Meadow,F, , Megan,F, , Meghan,F, , Meilani,F, , Melanie,F, , Melany,F, , Melina,F, , Melissa,F, , Melody,F, , Mercy,F, , Meredith,F, , Mia,F, , Miah,F, , Micah,F, , Michaela,F, , Michelle,F, , Mikaela,F, , Mikayla,F, , Mila,F, , Milan,F, , Milana,F, , Milani,F, , Milena,F, , Miley,F, , Millie,F, , Mina,F, , Mira,F, , Miracle,F, , Miranda,F, , Miriam,F, , Molly,F, , Monica,F, , Monroe,F, , Morgan,F, , Mya,F, , Myah,F, , Myla,F, , Mylah,F, , Myra,F, , Nadia,F, , Nala,F, , Nalani,F, , Nancy,F, , Naomi,F, , Natalia,F, , Natalie,F, , Nataly,F, , Natasha,F, , Nathalie,F, , Naya,F, , Nayeli,F, , Nevaeh,F, , Nia,F, , Nicole,F, , Nina,F, , Noa,F, , Noelle,F, , Noemi,F, , Nola,F, , Noor,F, , Nora,F, , Norah,F, , Nova,F, , Novah,F, , Novalee,F, , Nyla,F, , Nylah,F, , Oaklee,F, , Oakley,F, , Oaklyn,F, , Oaklynn,F, , Octavia,F, , Olive,F, , Olivia,F, , Opal,F, , Ophelia,F, , Paige,F, , Paislee,F, , Paisleigh,F, , Paisley,F, , Palmer,F, , Paloma,F, , Paola,F, , Paris,F, , Parker,F, , Patricia,F, , Paula,F, , Paulina,F, , Payton,F, , Pearl,F, , Penelope,F, , Penny,F, , Perla,F, , Peyton,F, , Phoebe,F, , Phoenix,F, , Piper,F, , Poppy,F, , Presley,F, , Princess,F, , Priscilla,F, , Promise,F, , Queen,F, , Quinn,F, , Rachel,F, , Raegan,F, , Raelyn,F, , Raelynn,F, , Raina,F, , Ramona,F, , Raquel,F, , Raven,F, , Rayna,F, , Rayne,F, , Reagan,F, , Rebecca,F, , Rebekah,F, , Reese,F, , Regina,F, , Reign,F, , Reina,F, , Remi,F, , Remington,F, , Remy,F, , Renata,F, , Reyna,F, , Rhea,F, , Riley,F, , River,F, , Rivka,F, , Robin,F, , Romina,F, , Rory,F, , Rosa,F, , Rosalee,F, , Rosalie,F, , Rosalyn,F, , Rose,F, , Roselyn,F, , Rosemary,F, , Rosie,F, , Rowan,F, , Royal,F, , Royalty,F, , Ruby,F, , Ruth,F, , Ryan,F, , Ryann,F, , Rylan,F, , Rylee,F, , Ryleigh,F, , Rylie,F, , Sabrina,F, , Sadie,F, , Sage,F, , Saige,F, , Salma,F, , Samantha,F, , Samara,F, , Samira,F, , Sandra,F, , Saniyah,F, , Saoirse,F, , Sara,F, , Sarah,F, , Sarai,F, , Sariah,F, , Sariyah,F, , Sasha,F, , Savanna,F, , Savannah,F, , Sawyer,F, , Saylor,F, , Scarlet,F, , Scarlett,F, , Scarlette,F, , Scout,F, , Selah,F, , Selena,F, , Selene,F, , Serena,F, , Serenity,F, , Shelby,F, , Shiloh,F, , Siena,F, , Sienna,F, , Sierra,F, , Simone,F, , Sky,F, , Skye,F, , Skyla,F, , Skylar,F, , Skyler,F, , Sloan,F, , Sloane,F, , Sofia,F, , Sophia,F, , Sophie,F, , Stella,F, , Stephanie,F, , Stevie,F, , Summer,F, , Sunny,F, , Sutton,F, , Sydney,F, , Sylvia,F, , Sylvie,F, , Talia,F, , Taliyah,F, , Tatiana,F, , Tatum,F, , Taylor,F, , Teagan,F, , Tenley,F, , Teresa,F, , Tessa,F, , Thalia,F, , Thea,F, , Tiana,F, , Tiffany,F, , Tinley,F, , Tinsley,F, , Tori,F, , Treasure,F, , Trinity,F, , Vada,F, , Valentina,F, , Valeria,F, , Valerie,F, , Valery,F, , Vanessa,F, , Veda,F, , Vera,F, , Veronica,F, , Victoria,F, , Vienna,F, , Violet,F, , Violeta,F, , Virginia,F, , Vivian,F, , Viviana,F, , Vivienne,F, , Waverly,F, , Wendy,F, , Whitley,F, , Whitney,F, , Willa,F, , Willow,F, , Winter,F, , Wren,F, , Wynter,F, , Ximena,F, , Xiomara,F, , Yamileth,F, , Yara,F, , Yareli,F, , Yaretzi,F, , Zahra,F, , Zainab,F, , Zaniyah,F, , Zara,F, , Zaria,F, , Zariah,F, , Zariyah,F, , Zaylee,F, , Zelda,F, , Zhavia,F, , Zoe,F, , Zoey,F, , Zoie,F, , Zola,F, , Zora,F, , Zuri,F, ,

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Here are the top 500 baby name meaning!

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1. Top 500 baby name meaning

Rank Male name Female name 1 Liam Emma 2 Noah Olivia 3 William Ava 4 James Isabella 5 Oliver Sophia 6 Benjamin Charlotte 7 Elijah Mia 8 Lucas Amelia 9 Mason Harper 10 Logan Evelyn 11 Alexander Abigail 12 Ethan Emily 13 Jacob Elizabeth 14 Michael Mila 15 Daniel Ella 16 Henry Avery 17 Jackson Sofia 18 Sebastian Camila 19 Aiden Aria 20 Matthew Scarlett 21 Samuel Victoria 22 David Madison 23 Joseph Luna 24 Carter Grace 25 Owen Chloe 26 Wyatt Penelope 27 John Layla 28 Jack Riley 29 Luke Zoey 30 Jayden Nora 31 Dylan Lily 32 Grayson Eleanor 33 Levi Hannah 34 Isaac Lillian 35 Gabriel Addison 36 Julian Aubrey 37 Mateo Ellie 38 Anthony Stella 39 Jaxon Natalie 40 Lincoln Zoe 41 Joshua Leah 42 Christopher Hazel 43 Andrew Violet 44 Theodore Aurora 45 Caleb Savannah 46 Ryan Audrey 47 Asher Brooklyn 48 Nathan Bella 49 Thomas Claire 50 Leo Skylar 51 Isaiah Lucy 52 Charles Paisley 53 Josiah Everly 54 Hudson Anna 55 Christian Caroline 56 Hunter Nova 57 Connor Genesis 58 Eli Emilia 59 Ezra Kennedy 60 Aaron Samantha 61 Landon Maya 62 Adrian Willow 63 Jonathan Kinsley 64 Nolan Naomi 65 Jeremiah Aaliyah 66 Easton Elena 67 Elias Sarah 68 Colton Ariana 69 Cameron Allison 70 Carson Gabriella 71 Robert Alice 72 Angel Madelyn 73 Maverick Cora 74 Nicholas Ruby 75 Dominic Eva 76 Jaxson Serenity 77 Greyson Autumn 78 Adam Adeline 79 Ian Hailey 80 Austin Gianna 81 Santiago Valentina 82 Jordan Isla 83 Cooper Eliana 84 Brayden Quinn 85 Roman Nevaeh 86 Evan Ivy 87 Ezekiel Sadie 88 Xavier Piper 89 Jose Lydia 90 Jace Alexa 91 Jameson Josephine 92 Leonardo Emery 93 Bryson Julia 94 Axel Delilah 95 Everett Arianna 96 Parker Vivian 97 Kayden Kaylee 98 Miles Sophie 99 Sawyer Brielle 100 Jason Madeline 101 Declan Peyton 102 Weston Rylee 103 Micah Clara 104 Ayden Hadley 105 Wesley Melanie 106 Luca Mackenzie 107 Vincent Reagan 108 Damian Adalynn 109 Zachary Liliana 110 Silas Aubree 111 Gavin Jade 112 Chase Katherine 113 Kai Isabelle 114 Emmett Natalia 115 Harrison Raelynn 116 Nathaniel Maria 117 Kingston Athena 118 Cole Ximena 119 Tyler Arya 120 Bennett Leilani 121 Bentley Taylor 122 Ryker Faith 123 Tristan Rose 124 Brandon Kylie 125 Kevin Alexandra 126 Luis Mary 127 George Margaret 128 Ashton Lyla 129 Rowan Ashley 130 Braxton Amaya 131 Ryder Eliza 132 Gael Brianna 133 Ivan Bailey 134 Diego Andrea 135 Maxwell Khloe 136 Max Jasmine 137 Carlos Melody 138 Kaiden Iris 139 Juan Isabel 140 Maddox Norah 141 Justin Annabelle 142 Waylon Valeria 143 Calvin Emerson 144 Giovanni Adalyn 145 Jonah Ryleigh 146 Abel Eden 147 Jayce Emersyn 148 Jesus Anastasia 149 Amir Kayla 150 King Alyssa 151 Beau Juliana 152 Camden Charlie 153 Alex Esther 154 Jasper Ariel 155 Malachi Cecilia 156 Brody Valerie 157 Jude Alina 158 Blake Molly 159 Emmanuel Reese 160 Eric Aliyah 161 Brooks Lilly 162 Elliot Parker 163 Antonio Finley 164 Abraham Morgan 165 Timothy Sydney 166 Finn Jordyn 167 Rhett Eloise 168 Elliott Trinity 169 Edward Daisy 170 August Kimberly 171 Xander Lauren 172 Alan Genevieve 173 Dean Sara 174 Lorenzo Arabella 175 Bryce Harmony 176 Karter Elise 177 Victor Remi 178 Milo Teagan 179 Miguel Alexis 180 Hayden London 181 Graham Sloane 182 Grant Laila 183 Zion Lucia 184 Tucker Diana 185 Jesse Juliette 186 Zayden Sienna 187 Joel Elliana 188 Richard Londyn 189 Patrick Ayla 190 Emiliano Callie 191 Avery Gracie 192 Nicolas Josie 193 Brantley Amara 194 Dawson Jocelyn 195 Myles Daniela 196 Matteo Everleigh 197 River Mya 198 Steven Rachel 199 Thiago Summer 200 Zane Alana 201 Matias Brooke 202 Judah Alaina 203 Messiah Mckenzie 204 Jeremy Catherine 205 Preston Amy 206 Oscar Presley 207 Kaleb Journee 208 Alejandro Rosalie 209 Marcus Ember 210 Mark Brynlee 211 Peter Rowan 212 Maximus Joanna 213 Barrett Paige 214 Jax Rebecca 215 Andres Ana 216 Holden Sawyer 217 Legend Mariah 218 Charlie Nicole 219 Knox Brooklynn 220 Kaden Payton 221 Paxton Marley 222 Kyrie Fiona 223 Kyle Georgia 224 Griffin Lila 225 Josue Harley 226 Kenneth Adelyn 227 Beckett Alivia 228 Enzo Noelle 229 Adriel Gemma 230 Arthur Vanessa 231 Felix Journey 232 Bryan Makayla 233 Lukas Angelina 234 Paul Adaline 235 Brian Catalina 236 Colt Alayna 237 Caden Julianna 238 Leon Leila 239 Archer Lola 240 Omar Adriana 241 Israel June 242 Aidan Juliet 243 Theo Jayla 244 Javier River 245 Remington Tessa 246 Jaden Lia 247 Bradley Dakota 248 Emilio Delaney 249 Colin Selena 250 Riley Blakely 251 Cayden Ada 252 Phoenix Camille 253 Clayton Zara 254 Simon Malia 255 Ace Hope 256 Nash Samara 257 Derek Vera 258 Rafael Mckenna 259 Zander Briella 260 Brady Izabella 261 Jorge Hayden 262 Jake Raegan 263 Louis Michelle 264 Damien Angela 265 Karson Ruth 266 Walker Freya 267 Maximiliano Kamila 268 Amari Vivienne 269 Sean Aspen 270 Chance Olive 271 Walter Kendall 272 Martin Elaina 273 Finley Thea 274 Andre Kali 275 Tobias Destiny 276 Cash Amiyah 277 Corbin Evangeline 278 Arlo Cali 279 Iker Blake 280 Erick Elsie 281 Emerson Juniper 282 Gunner Alexandria 283 Cody Myla 284 Stephen Ariella 285 Francisco Kate 286 Killian Mariana 287 Dallas Lilah 288 Reid Charlee 289 Manuel Daleyza 290 Lane Nyla 291 Atlas Jane 292 Rylan Maggie 293 Jensen Zuri 294 Ronan Aniyah 295 Beckham Lucille 296 Daxton Leia 297 Anderson Melissa 298 Kameron Adelaide 299 Raymond Amina 300 Orion Giselle 301 Cristian Lena 302 Tanner Camilla 303 Kyler Miriam 304 Jett Millie 305 Cohen Brynn 306 Ricardo Gabrielle 307 Spencer Sage 308 Gideon Annie 309 Ali Logan 310 Fernando Lilliana 311 Jaiden Haven 312 Titus Jessica 313 Travis Kaia 314 Bodhi Magnolia 315 Eduardo Amira 316 Dante Adelynn 317 Ellis Makenzie 318 Prince Stephanie 319 Kane Nina 320 Luka Phoebe 321 Kash Arielle 322 Hendrix Evie 323 Desmond Lyric 324 Donovan Alessandra 325 Mario Gabriela 326 Atticus Paislee 327 Cruz Raelyn 328 Garrett Madilyn 329 Hector Paris 330 Angelo Makenna 331 Jeffrey Kinley 332 Edwin Gracelyn 333 Cesar Talia 334 Zayn Maeve 335 Devin Rylie 336 Conor Kiara 337 Warren Evelynn 338 Odin Brinley 339 Jayceon Jacqueline 340 Romeo Laura 341 Julius Gracelynn 342 Jaylen Lexi 343 Hayes Ariah 344 Kayson Fatima 345 Muhammad Jennifer 346 Jaxton Kehlani 347 Joaquin Alani 348 Caiden Ariyah 349 Dakota Luciana 350 Major Allie 351 Keegan Heidi 352 Sergio Maci 353 Marshall Phoenix 354 Johnny Felicity 355 Kade Joy 356 Edgar Kenzie 357 Leonel Veronica 358 Ismael Margot 359 Marco Addilyn 360 Tyson Lana 361 Wade Cassidy 362 Collin Remington 363 Troy Saylor 364 Nasir Ryan 365 Conner Keira 366 Adonis Harlow 367 Jared Miranda 368 Rory Angel 369 Andy Amanda 370 Jase Daniella 371 Lennox Royalty 372 Shane Gwendolyn 373 Malik Ophelia 374 Ari Heaven 375 Reed Jordan 376 Seth Madeleine 377 Clark Esmeralda 378 Erik Kira 379 Lawson Miracle 380 Trevor Elle 381 Gage Amari 382 Nico Danielle 383 Malakai Daphne 384 Quinn Willa 385 Cade Haley 386 Johnathan Gia 387 Sullivan Kaitlyn 388 Solomon Oakley 389 Cyrus Kailani 390 Fabian Winter 391 Pedro Alicia 392 Frank Serena 393 Shawn Nadia 394 Malcolm Aviana 395 Khalil Demi 396 Nehemiah Jada 397 Dalton Braelynn 398 Mathias Dylan 399 Jay Ainsley 400 Ibrahim Alison 401 Peyton Camryn 402 Winston Avianna 403 Kason Bianca 404 Zayne Skyler 405 Noel Scarlet 406 Princeton Maddison 407 Matthias Nylah 408 Gregory Sarai 409 Sterling Regina 410 Dominick Dahlia 411 Elian Nayeli 412 Grady Raven 413 Russell Helen 414 Finnegan Adrianna 415 Ruben Averie 416 Gianni Skye 417 Porter Kelsey 418 Kendrick Tatum 419 Leland Kensley 420 Pablo Maliyah 421 Allen Erin 422 Hugo Viviana 423 Raiden Jenna 424 Kolton Anaya 425 Remy Carolina 426 Ezequiel Shelby 427 Damon Sabrina 428 Emanuel Mikayla 429 Zaiden Annalise 430 Otto Octavia 431 Bowen Lennon 432 Marcos Blair 433 Abram Carmen 434 Kasen Yaretzi 435 Franklin Kennedi 436 Royce Mabel 437 Jonas Zariah 438 Sage Kyla 439 Philip Christina 440 Esteban Selah 441 Drake Celeste 442 Kashton Eve 443 Roberto Mckinley 444 Harvey Milani 445 Alexis Frances 446 Kian Jimena 447 Jamison Kylee 448 Maximilian Leighton 449 Adan Katie 450 Milan Aitana 451 Phillip Kayleigh 452 Albert Sierra 453 Dax Kathryn 454 Mohamed Rosemary 455 Ronin Jolene 456 Kamden Alondra 457 Hank Elisa 458 Memphis Helena 459 Oakley Charleigh 460 Augustus Hallie 461 Drew Lainey 462 Moises Avah 463 Armani Jazlyn 464 Rhys Kamryn 465 Benson Mira 466 Jayson Cheyenne 467 Kyson Francesca 468 Braylen Antonella 469 Corey Wren 470 Gunnar Chelsea 471 Omari Amber 472 Alonzo Emory 473 Landen Lorelei 474 Armando Nia 475 Derrick Abby 476 Dexter April 477 Enrique Emelia 478 Bruce Carter 479 Nikolai Aylin 480 Francis Cataleya 481 Rocco Bethany 482 Kairo Marlee 483 Royal Carly 484 Zachariah Kaylani 485 Arjun Emely 486 Deacon Liana 487 Skyler Madelynn 488 Eden Cadence 489 Alijah Matilda 490 Rowen Sylvia 491 Pierce Myra 492 Uriel Fernanda 493 Ronald Oaklyn 494 Luciano Elianna 495 Tate Hattie 496 Frederick Dayana 497 Kieran Kendra 498 Lawrence Maisie 499 Moses Malaysia 500 Rodrigo Kara

2. Meaning of name "Liam" and "Emma"

Liam:

Liam's name is the name of a boy of Irish origin meaning "resolute protection".

Liam originated as the nickname of Uilliam, the Irish variant of William. William is an English name from German origin brought to Ireland when the British fled England after the conquest of Norman.

The Irish began to use English names, including William, which led to the development of Uilliam and its short form, Liam.

Liam is the top US boy's name for 2018, joining the elite group of names to top the list. Liam started out as a short form of William but has long stood on his own and for several years has become one of the most popular baby names for boys.

Now it is the fastest-growing Irish name in the United States, first entering the Top 10 in 2012 and before climbing to No. 1, holding No. 2 for four consecutive years.

Emma:

Initially, a short form of the German name beginning with the ermen element meaning "whole" or "universal". It was introduced to England by Emma of Normandy, who was the wife of King Ethelred II (and by him the mother of Edward the Confession) and later King Canute.

After the Norman conquest, this name became popular in England. It was revived in the 18th century, perhaps in part because of a poem by Henry Prior Henry and Emma (1709). In the United States, it ranked third in 1880 (after Mary and Anna were omnipresent).

It declined steadily over the next century, beginning another rise in the 1980s and eventually becoming the most popular name for girls in 2008.

At this time it also experienced similar levels of popularity elsewhere, including the United Kingdom (where it began rising a decade earlier), Germany, France, Italy, Spain, Scandinavia, and the Netherlands.

More ideals for you: Top 500 Arabic Names

From : https://wikitopx.com/name-meanings/top-500-baby-name-meaning-711994.html

#Wikitopx #Wikitopx - Feed

[rhoorl]

Week in Review | Oct. 29 aka The SNL Week

Hi there! Just a week ago I woke up to see the Pedroverse exploding about his appearance on SNL. What a week, it all feels like a bit of a blur. I’m so happy I have my pocket friends here so I can scream into the void about this man. Although, after this week I’m not sure how we are going to fare come Gladiator 2 time … at least we’ll have time to prepare for that versus getting caught off guard, right? What do you think P?

For those who celebrate Halloween, I hope you’ve had a safe and fun weekend. Mr. Rhoorl and I are returning to Halloween Horror Nights for the last time tonight! I still can’t believe how much I’ve enjoyed going to the event this year. Goes to show that sometimes doing something out of your comfort zone may be worth the try!

Along we go with the week in review:

Fics I Read This Week:

Frankie Morales

Hinterland by @legendary-pink-dot - Even half asleep Frankie is a menace.

Javier Peña

Pent Up by @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin - Ohhhh boy. My brain kind of short-circuited with this one.

Marcus Pike

Kinktober prompt from @absurdthirst - I’m fully entrenched in the Pike Puddle and fics like this keep me in. 

Joel Miller

Cocoon and Bubble by @secretelephanttattoo - Both of these are absolutely beautiful and I feel so much intimacy between these two even without much dialogue. So well done!

Witches by @trulybetty - Betty’s entire Autumnal Offerings series has been so fantastic and I look forward to each day’s prompt. But this one … this Joel makes me a particular brand of feral.

Dieter Bravo

In Fiction by @sin-djarin - I’m all about Dieter, especially a soft Dieter, so this was right up my alley.

Broadcasting Live Tonight by @morallyinept - This is 🔥🔥 and Jett captures Dieter so well!

Dave York 

The Wolf & The Lamb by @morallyinept - I love Jett’s giflets and this was so good!

Current Compulsory Series:

These are series I am keeping up with at the moment. I’m still behind on some and hope to fix that this week!

The Pilot and His Girl (Frankie) by @avastrasposts - Mel - I am reading that final chapter this week if it’s the last thing I do!

Delta Palms Tropical Resort (Frankie) by @linzels-blog 

I Like the Way You (Frankie) by @undercoverpena

Destiny & Deliverance (Dieter) by @mysterious-moonstruck-musings

Paranoid Heat (Javi P) by @goodwithcheese

It’s Never Too Late (Javi P) by @javierpena-inatacvest

Visiting (Mr. Ben) by @ladamedusoif

Posts From the Week:

@wildemaven has been posting the most amazing mood boards! I particularly swooned over this one of Dieter hosting SNL and Pizza and Cards Night with the TF boys. 😍

On the heels of the SNL appearance, @morallyinept added more to her Pedro Boys Cocktails with a SNL edition. These are so funny and clever. Side note, happy birthday (and 1k followers too?! Amazing you deserve it all)! To celebrate, she gave us a gift by way of two one-shots which I'm adding to my list for this week!

Feral Corner:

SNL - that’s it. That’s the content for Feral Corner this week.

But seriously, these gifs have been living rent-free in my mind. Also, there was a photo of Pedro that I saw in gray sweatpants that made me lose my goddamn mind aka change the name of my blog from Joel’s Gray Sweatpants to Pedro’s Gray Sweatpants. Because that's a rational response, right?! 😆 I’m also convinced that I manifested his choice of attire into existence and you can’t tell me any different! Let me have this!

My week wasn’t all dominated by Pedro, as hard as that may seem. Garrett/Benny was up in there too. This recent post has solidified the idea that I need to add a bowling scene to Delta Landscaping at some point. Garrett apparently has a song coming out on Friday, so expect me to be obnoxious about it when it drops.

Things I Watched:

I have just a couple of days left to do my annual rewatch of Hocus Pocus. I have been wearing my Sanderson Sisters shirt throughout the month, though.

I didn’t go to the movies this week, but Mr. Rhoorl went and saw Five Night at Freddy’s. He’s never played the game and knows just the basics about the lore, but he thought it was fine.

We did introduce Baby Rhoorl to The Nightmare Before Christmas this week (quick poll - do you consider that a Halloween movie or a Christmas movie?). She was interested in it for as long as a two-year-old can be interested in something.

Personal Stuff

This week I started a bit of a health journey, which has been going pretty well so far. Things were a bit crazy at work as we launched a really big project. Baby Rhoorl also attend a birthday party for a friend - her first one! Being around that many small children was … a lot. I left super overstimulated and I am continually in awe of teachers and caregivers who do that day in and day out.

I’m looking forward to some Halloween fun this week, starting with HHN tonight (goodbye Joel, we had a good run). Baby Rhoorl’s school is doing a Trunk or Treat event - a concept I never knew existed until last year. And Tuesday my entire office is dressing up for Halloween. The floor I’m on picked Halloween movies as our theme, and my team decided on the Addam’s Family. Yay for corporate Halloween fun 🙃 although it does make for some pretty funny meetings.

I can’t believe we are staring November in the face! Mr. Rhoorl and I have plans to see a concert in November, which I’m really excited about - Ice Nine Kills and In This Moment. We’ve seen both of these bands before, but I’m looking forward to watching them again!

Fic Updates:

This past week I got a chapter of Working Title out - with a fun cameo. 😉 Chapter 16 has been done for about a week but I've been sitting on it, rereading. Fair warning, the cameos aren’t done. Also, we finally get some smut…yay! Hopefully, those who have been reading will find it worth the wait. 🫣 I will get it out this week, I'm thinking maybe Wednesday?

Delta Landscaping Chapter 9 is coming along. It takes me a lot longer to write that series since there’s so many characters to keep track of (and I am writing it as I go). So apologies for the delay.

I have a couple of one-shots in the works, but I will likely post a Benny one this week, maybe for Miller Monday? I originally planned on doing a little Halloween one-shot, but the month got away from me 🫤

Thanks for making it this far! I hope something makes you smile this week. 🙂 My inbox is always open if you want to say hi!

Masterlists

Working Title (Dieter, series, ongoing) | AO3 

Delta Landscaping (Triple Frontier, series, ongoing) | AO3

Turbulence (Frankie, one-shot) | AO3

#rhoorl week in review #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal cinematic universe

[tuseriesdetv]

Noticias de series de la semana: Mr. Glover & Mrs. Waller-Bridge

Renovaciones

BBC One ha renovado The Split por una tercera y última temporada

HBO Max ha renovado Search Party por una quinta temporada

HBO Max ha renovado Close Enough por una tercera temporada

Cancelaciones

La octava temporada de Brooklyn Nine-Nine (NBC) será la última

The CW ha descartado la serie Wonder Girl

Noticias cortas

Lucasfilm ha despedido a Gina Carano (Cara Dune) de The Mandalorian por sus declaraciones en las redes.

Curtiss Cook (Douda) será regular en la cuarta temporada de The Chi.

Fichajes

Claire Danes (Homeland, My So-Called Life) sustituye a Keira Knightley como protagonista de The Essex Serpent.

Guy Pearce (Mildred Pierce, Memento) protagonizará Mare of Easttown junto a Kate Winslet. Sustituye a Ben Miles en el papel de Richard Bryan, profesor visitante de escritura creativa que escribió una novela deslumbrante hace veinticinco años. 

Pedro Pascal (The Mandalorian, Narcos) y Bella Ramsey (Game of Thrones, His Dark Materials) protagonizarán The Last of Us. Serán Joel y Ellie.

Carrie Preston (The Good Wife, Claws) será Robbie McClung, abogada defensora de Duntsch (Joshua Jackson), en Dr. Death.

Harry Hamlin (Mad Men, Shameless) y Dylan Baker (The Americans, The Good Wife) serán el presentador Tom Brokaw y el agente del FBI Ed Copak en The Hot Zone. Anthrax.

Jamie Chung (The Gifted, Once Upon a Time) y Oscar Wahlberg (NOS4A2, Manchester by the Sea) serán recurrentes en el revival de Dexter como Molly, una famosa podcaster de Los Ángeles; y Zach, capitán del equipo de lucha del instituto de Iron Lake.

Jasika Nicole (Fringe, The Good Doctor) será recurrente en Punky Brewster como Lauren, la novia de Cherie (Cherie Johnson).

Christina Milian (Soundtrack, The Oath) sustituye a la fallecida Naya Rivera en el papel de Collette en Step Up: High Water.

Hannah Ware (The First, Boss) protagonizará The One. Será Rebecca, CEO fundadora de MatchDNA, una compañía tecnológica que permite a la gente identificar a su pareja ideal con un test de ADN.

Mary McDonnell (Major Crimes, Battlestar Galactica), Adam Arkin (Sons of Anarchy, Chicago Hope), Matthew Glave (Better Things, Angie Tribeca) y Jalen Thomas Brooks (Animal Kingdom) se unen como recurrentes a Rebel. 

Melissa De Sousa (On Becoming a God in Central Florida, Valley of the Dolls) se une a la cuarta temporada de Black Lightning. Será Ana López, jefa de policía.

Adeline Rudolph (Chilling Adventures of Sabrina) será Minerva Marble en la quinta temporada de Riverdale.

Yanic Truesdale (Gilmore Girls), Steve Mallory (The Boss, The Happytime Murders), Usman Ally (Nobodies, On Becoming a God in Central Florida), Ana Scotney (Shortland Street, Educators) y Chris Sandiford (What We Do in the Shadows) completan el reparto de God's Favorite Idiot. Serán Chamuel, arcángel nuevo en el pueblo; Frisbee, gerente de nivel medio; Mohsin Raza, que ha elegido una vida íntegra antes que el éxito financiero o una posición de liderazgo; Wendy, generosa y llena de empatía; y Tom, leal e irritante.  

Rob Delaney (Catastrophe), Alice Eve (Iron Fist, Black Mirror) y Edwina Findley (Treme, If Loving You Is Wrong) se unen como recurrentes a The Power.

Angus Macfadyen (Turn, Strange Angel) será Jor-El en Superman & Lois.

Matt Lauria (Friday Night Lights, Kingdom), Paula Newsome (Chicago Med, Barry) y Mel Rodriguez (The Last Man on Earth) se unen al revival de CSI. Serán Josh, Maxine y Hugo.

Rhys Ifans (Berlin Station, Notting Hill), Steve Toussaint (Doctors, Berlin Station), Eve Best (Nurse Jackie, Fate: The Winx Saga) y Sonoya Mizuno (Devs, Maniac) serán Otto Hightower, la mano del rey Viserys (Paddy Considine) y padre de Alicent (Olivia Cook); Lord Corlys Velaryon, conocido como The Sea Snake; la princesa Rhaenys Velaryon, la esposa de Lord Corlys y prima de Viserys; y Mysaria, aliada del príncipe Daemon; en House of the Dragon.

Matthew Willig (Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.) será recurrente como el luchador Andr the Giant en Young Rock.

Howard Charles (The Musketeers, The Widow) se une como regular a la segunda temporada de Top Boy. Será Curtis, involucrado en una trama de mafias en Liverpool.

Tabitha Brown y Jason Weaver (Smart Guy) se unen como recurrentes a la cuarta temporada de The Chi.

Luke Cook (Chilling Adventures of Sabrina, Katy Keene) será recurrente en la cuarta temporada de Dynasty como Oliver, exnovio de Kirby (Maddison Brown).

Hannah Einbinder será Ava, la joven guionista que Deborah Vance (Jean Smart) es obligada a contratar, en la comedia de HBO Max protagonizada por Smart. Carl Clemons-Hopkins (Chicago Med, The Chi) será Marcus, el jefe de operaciones de Deborah. Kaitlin Olson (It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia, The Mick), Christopher McDonald (Thelma & Louise), Paul W. Downs (Broad City, Rough Night), Mark Indelicato (Ugly Betty), Poppy Liu (Better Call Saul), Johnny Sibilly (Pose), Meg Stalter y Rose Abdoo (Gilmore Girls, Parenthood) participarán como invitados recurrentes.

Pósters

   Nuevas series

Donald Glover (Atlanta, Community) y Phoebe Waller-Bridge (Fleabag, Broadchurch) protagonizarán Mr. & Mrs. Smith, basada en la película de 2005, para Amazon. Cocreada por Glover, Waller-Bridge y Francesca Sloane (Fargo, Seven Seconds), que será la showrunner.

Netflix prepara The Overstory, adaptación de la novela de Richard Powers (2018). Trata sobre un mundo junto al nuestro que es extenso, interconectado, lleno de recursos, inventivo y casi invisible para nosotros. Un puñado de gente aprende a verlo y se ven arrastrados a la catástrofe que se prepara. Escrita por Richard Robbins (Good Girls Revolt, 12 Monkeys). Producida por David Benioff y D.B. Weiss, los creadores de Game of Thrones; y Hugh Jackman (X-Men Origins: Wolverine).

Amazon ha encargado ocho episodios de The Summer I Turned Pretty, adaptación de la trilogía de novelas de Jenny Han (To All the Boys I've Loved Before). Es un drama multigeneracional centrado en un triángulo amoroso entre una chica y dos hermanos. Escrita y producida por Han y Gabrielle Stanton (Haven, The Flash).

Kate del Castillo (La Reina del Sur, Ingobernable), Roselyn Sanchez (Devious Maids, Without a Trace), Sylvia Sáenz (Betty en NY, 100 días para enamorarnos) y Jeimy Osorio (Betty en NY, Celia) protagonizarán Armas de mujer, en la que detienen a los maridos de las cuatro protagonistas por pertenencia a la misma organización criminal, en Peacock. Creada por José Luis Acosta (Sin tetas no hay paraíso, Ana y los 7), escrita y producida por Marcos Santana (La Reina del Sur, Dime quién soy) y dirigida por Enrique Begné (Compadres, Busco novio para mi mujer) y Claudia Pedraza (La Reina del Sur, Decisiones).

Carla Gugino (The Haunting of Hill House, Jett) protagonizará Leopard Skin, en la que una banda de ladrones, tras fracasar en un robo de joyas, se esconde en una casa en la playa donde viven dos mujeres. Completan el reparto Amelia Eve (The Haunting of Bly Manor), Gentry White (UnREAL, Jett), Philip Winchester (Strike Back, Law & Order: SVU), Margot Bingham (She's Gotta Have It, The Walking Dead), Gaite Jansen (Jett, Peaky Blinders), Nora Arnezeder (Riviera, Zoo) y Ana de la Reguera (Goliath, Narcos). Escrita por Sebastian Gutierrez (Jett, Snakes on a Plane). No hay cadena asociada.

BBC One encarga Bloodlands, thriller en el que una nota de suicidio en una coche la recuerda al inspector Tom Brannick (James Nesbitt, The Missing, Lucky Man) un famoso caso antiguo sin cerrar y relacionado con él. Completan el reparto Lisa Dwan (Top Boy), Lorcan Cranitch (Roma, Atlantis), Charlene McKenna (Ripper Street, Death and Nightingales), Ian McElhinney (Game of Thrones, Derry Girls), Lola Petticrew (Dating Amber, Come Home), Chris Walley (The Young Offenders), Michael Smiley (Luther, Death and Nightingales), Kathy Kiera Clarke (Derry Girls), Susan Lynch (Happy Valley, Unforgotten), Peter Ballance (Game of Thrones), Asan N'Jie (Emmerdale Farm, Mount Pleasant), Cara Kelly (Trust Me) y Flora Montgomery (A Very English Scandal). Escrita por Chris Brandon, dirigida por Pete Travis (Project Blue Book, The Jury) y producida por Jed Mercurio (Line of Duty, Bodyguard).

The CW ha encargado un reboot de The 4400. Escrita por Ariana Jackson (Riverdale).

Peacock ha encargado diez episodios de The Best Man, limited series continuación de la película de 1999 y su secuela de 2013. Volverán Morris Chestnut, Melissa De Sousa, Taye Diggs, Regina Hall, Terrence Howard, Sanaa Lathan, Nia Long y Harold Perrineau. Escrita y producida por Malcolm D. Lee, guionista y director de las dos películas.

FOX prepara una serie de animación adaptación del juego Clue (Cluedo).

FOX encarga una comedia de animación ambientada en la Antigua Grecia que seguirá a una familia de humanos, dioses y monstruos que intentan gobernar una de las primeras ciudades del mundo sin matarse entre ellos. De Dan Harmon (Community, Rick & Morty).

HBO Max ha encargado dos temporadas del revival de la serie de animación Clone High. Escrita por Erica Rivinoja (South Park, Borat 2).

HBO Max encarga Velma, serie de animación precuela de Scooby-Doo. Mindy Kaling producirá la serie y pondrá voz a la protagonista.

HBO Max encarga Fired on Mars, comedia ambientada en el campus de una empresa de tecnología en Marte. Basada en el cortometraje animado de Nate Sherman y Nick Vokey. Producida por Pete Davidson (Saturday Night Live).

Spectrum ha encargado doce episodios de Long Slow Exhale, drama en el que la entrenadora de un equipo de baloncesto femenino universitario (Rose Rollins; The L Word, The Catch) se encuentra en medio de un escándalo de abuso sexual. Creada y escrita por Pam Veasey (L.A.'s Finest, CSI: NY).

Amazon desarrolla Oona Out of Order, adaptación de la novela de Margarita Montimore (2020) en la que el día de su decimonoveno cumpleaños una chica se ve dentro de su propio cuerpo pero con cincuenta y cinco años. Escrita y producida por Alice Bell (Offspring, The Beautiful Lie).

Tiffany Haddish (The Carmichael Show, Girls Trip) ha adquirido los derechos del libro Shakespeare's Secret Messiah: The Dark Lady, de Joseph Atwill (2014), para adaptarlo a la televisión. Protagonizará y producirá la limited series, titulada The Bardess, que tratará sobre Amelia Bassano, poetisa veneciana negra y judía que algunos creen que está detrás del trabajo literario de Shakespeare. Escrita y dirigida por Amma Asante (The Handmaid's Tale, Mrs. America) y producida por Akiva Goldsman (Underground, Fringe). Aún no hay cadena asociada. 

Fechas

La cuarta temporada de Unforgotten se estrena en ITV el 22 de febrero

Genera+ion se estrena en HBO Max el 11 de marzo

La tercera temporada de Paradise P.D. llega a Netflix el 12 de marzo

Country Comfort llega a Netflix el 19 de marzo

Genius: Aretha se estrena en NatGeo el 21 de marzo

Mare of Easttown se estrena en HBO el 18 de abril

La tercera y última temporada de Shrill llega a Hulu el 7 de mayo

La séptima temporada de Good Witch se estrena en Hallmark el 16 de mayo 

Tráilers y promos

The Falcon and the Winter Soldier

Genera+ion

Paradise P.D. - Temporada 3

#series tv #television

[lamaventures]

Guatemala : volcans, lacs et temples mayas

S'il y a un pays d'Amérique Centrale qui nous attire plus que les autres, c'est bien le Guatemala. Il concentre à lui seul tout ce que nous aimons dans le voyage : une forte identité culturelle, une belle diversité des paysages et un tourisme encore modéré. Et puis, il a ce côté un peu mystique avec ses vestiges mayas qu'il nous tarde de découvrir !

Antigua et éruptions volcaniques

Antigua est probablement la plus belle ville coloniale d'Amérique Centrale. Ancienne capitale lors de la colonisation espagnole, elle est restée figée dans une époque un peu lointaine. Notre arrivée en fin de journée ne nous permet pas d'en profiter tout de suite mais notre hôtel dispose d'une terrasse avec une vue magnifique sur les trois volcans qui l'entourent : l'Agua et son cône parfait, le Fuego et ses fréquentes incroyables éruptions puis l'Acatenango, le plus haut des trois qui culmine à 3976 mètres. 

Le lendemain, je me réveille un peu barbouillée. On prend notre petit-déjeuner avec le spectacle du Fuego en éruption et j'ai l'impression que moi aussi, je vais entrer en éruption bientôt. On part tout de même visiter la belle Antigua. Difficile de ne pas tomber sous le charme de ses ruines, ses pavés mal ajustés et ses maisons basses colorées aux patios fleuris. Au fur et à mesure de notre balade, je me sens de plus en plus mal et comme il n'y avait pas assez de couleurs dans cette belle ville coloniale, j'ai décidé malgré moi de repeindre les jolis pavés avec mon dîner de la veille. A peine arrivée au Guatemala et déjà contaminée. 

Dans deux jours, on a prévu de faire l'ascension de l'Acatenango. Situé à seulement deux kilomètres du Fuego, il offre un point d'observation imprenable sur les multiples éruptions de ce dernier. Le trek dure deux jours avec une nuit en tente et l'arrivée au sommet au lever du soleil. On sait que ça va être un grand temps fort dans notre voyage au Guatemala. Du coup, j'ai deux jours pour éradiquer la bactérie guatémaltèque. 

[Deux jours passés sous silence]

On part de bon matin en direction de l'Acatenango équipé de notre bonne vieille tenue de trekkeur des montagnes et de ma bactérie guatémaltèque résistante. L'ascension débute à 2200 mètres et le camping est à 3600 mètres, ce qui nous fait un dénivelé de 1400 mètres dans la journée, mazette ! On forme un groupe d'une dizaine de personnes aux nationalités très diverses, accompagné par trois guides. Les premières heures sont difficiles, le chemin est escarpé et on glisse sur de la roche volcanique sableuse avant d'arriver sur un sentier de terre, moins galère mais bien plus raide. 

Vous vous rappelez de la scène avec Frodon en train d'escalader la montagne du destin ? Eh bien voilà. C'est moi et mon fardeau. De temps en temps, je vais me cacher dans les fourrés pour l’alléger. Il faut bien ça pour répandre la paix en Terre du Milieu. 

Le chemin s’aplanit sur la fin et contourne progressivement l'Acatenango jusqu'à nous dévoiler le magnifique Fuego ! Même recouvert de nuages, on distingue la fumée qui s'échappe de son cratère. Le spectacle est déjà saisissant et on n'a encore rien vu.

On arrive enfin sur le lieu du campement. Le tentes sont alignées sur une petite terrasse de terre toute en longueur et face au Fuego. Y a pire comme endroit pour dormir, non ? On s'habille de nos tenues les plus chaudes et on se regroupe tous autour d'un feu de bois. Les guides nous préparent un délicieux repas avec des chamalow grillés en dessert ! On passe la soirée à discuter voyage lorsque soudain, le Fuego se met à gronder fortement en expulsant un nuage de fumée accompagné de coulées de lave ! C'est incroyable de voir un tel spectacle et surtout, d'aussi près. 

On regagne nos tentes émerveillés par cette force de la nature. A plusieurs reprises pendant la nuit, les éruptions du Fuego nous tirent de notre sommeil. Du coup, on ne résiste pas à l'envie de jeter un coup d’œil depuis la tente. La lave qui s'écoule sur les parois du volcan est presque fluorescente dans l'obscurité de la nuit. 

A 4h30, l'un des guides vient nous réveiller pour l'ultime ascension jusqu'au sommet de l'Acatenango. La nuit fut très courte et très froide mais plutôt exceptionnelle dans son genre. On s'habille chaudement et on part lampe frontale allumée pour grimper les 400 mètres restants. La vue sur la vallée encore endormie est magnifique. On distingue l'Agua un peu plus bas avec son cône parfait mais aussi le Pacaya un peu plus loin qui a la particularité d'être en activité aussi. Son cratère béant est rougeoyant de lave ! Petit à petit, les premières lueurs du jour commencent à dévoiler le monde et c'est à ce moment là que l'on arrive au sommet de l'Acatenango. Il fait extrêmement froid mais c'est extrêmement beau. Le Fuego crache, les rayons percent, les nuages se colorent, la vallée se réveille. 

On a vu des choses incroyables pendant notre voyage, le Fuego en fait désormais clairement partie.

Détente au bord du lac Atitlàn

Niché au cœur du Guatemala, ce lac hors du temps fascine depuis toujours. Surplombé par trois imposants volcans, il nourrit les nombreuses croyances des communautés mayas qui vivent le long de ses rives. Mais, peut-il être plus envoûtant que le lac Titicaca ?

Après avoir emprunté une route bien mouvementée, on arrive dans le village de San Pedro La Laguna où il y règne une douce tranquillité et une bande de hippies un peu paumés. Impatient de découvrir la beauté du lac, on s'approche de la rive d'où la vue est parfaite sur le volcan San Pedro.

Le lendemain, on rejoint à pied San Juan, le village voisin. On se perd dans les ruelles et dans les boutiques d'artisanat mais en vrai, on est venu ici pour un restaurant (et pas n'importe lequel). Le chef est suisse, sa femme italienne. On y mange donc du fromage et de la charcuterie. Et ça, ça n'a pas de prix. On en aurait presque la larme à l’œil (surtout Antoine).

Le lac Atitlàn n'a pas le même visage au cours de la journée. A l'aube, le ciel est dégagé et l'eau se fait miroir. C'est là que les couleurs sont les plus pures. Dans la matinée, les nuages s'amoncellent autour des sommets des volcans. L'après-midi, un petit vent se lève et vient chahuter les flots. On décide donc de grimper jusqu'à la Nariz del Indio, un petit sommet d'environ 2500 mètres, pour admirer le lever du soleil sur le lac.

Lorsque l'on arrive, il fait encore nuit. Progressivement, la lumière jaillit. La vue sur le lac et les volcans qui l'entourent est superbe. Malheureusement, le ciel est déjà très nuageux et le jeu de couleur n'est pas celui auquel nous nous attendions. On profite quand même du panorama et d'une percée de soleil dans les nuages avant de redescendre sur le lac.

On rejoint ensuite la rive opposée à Panajachel, étape transitoire avant de continuer notre périple au Guatemala. Depuis les pontons, la vue sur le lac au petit matin est magnifique.

Sémuc Champey : des grottes et des cascades

La route est très longue jusqu'à Lanquin. 10h pour être exacte. Avec 2h sur des cailloux. On arrive donc épuisés par la vie dans notre cabane en bois au bord de la rivière. Au moins ça, ça a le mérite de nous consoler !

L'attraction du coin, ce sont les grottes et les cascades de Sémuc Champey. Le paysage est vallonné et la végétation tropicale et luxuriante. On change complètement d'ambiance. Notre journée débute par une immersion dans les grottes de Sémuc Champey, munis uniquement d'un maillot de bain et d'une bougie à la main. Les tunnels étant immergés, on nage dans une semi obscurité, on passe à travers des cascades et on saute dans des puits. C'est vraiment génial et original de mêler spéléo et canyoning !

Une fois sortis de la grotte, on attrape de grosses bouées, on jette nos fesses dedans et on se laisse dériver sur la rivière. En chemin, on croise un guatémaltèque en bouée qui tient son petit bar à bière. Il faut faire fonctionner le commerce local hein. Et on oublie pas de lever les fesses et de bien tenir sa bière dans les rapides !

Pour la dernière étape de la journée, on va voir les fameuses cascades de Sémuc Champey. On commence par grimper jusqu'au mirador pour les admirer d'en haut. C'est d'ici que le spectacle est le plus impressionnant. La rivière forme sur 100 mètres une cascade de piscines d'eau limpide couleur turquoise perdues en pleine jungle. C'est superbe.

On redescend ensuite pour aller s'y baigner ! L'eau est agréablement tiède. On passe d'un bassin à l'autre en sautant ou en glissant sur des toboggans naturels.

Tikal : cité maya perdue au cœur de la jungle

La découverte des vestiges incas au Pérou nous avait vraiment marqué. Le Machu Picchu et le Choquequirao ont de quoi impressionner le backpackeur le plus endurci. Au Guatemala, c'est la civilisation maya. Et, au milieu de la jungle, trône un site monumental : Tikal.

On effectue une nouvelle longue étape de route pour rejoindre la région de Petén, à l'extrême nord du pays pour finir en beauté notre passage au Guatemala.

Avant même d'arriver sur le site, l'entrée en matière est scénique. On s'enfonce dans la jungle, on croise des singes et un toucan. On frôle le ceiba, l'arbre national sacré. On éclate les moustiques qui nous piquent. Puis, on tombe sur la première pyramide maya. Massive. Magique. Lorsque l'on grimpe au sommet, on surplombe la jungle et on peut voir les différents vestiges disséminés dans la forêt. On entend les cris rauques des singes hurleurs qui donnent une atmosphère encore un peu plus mystique.

Les vestiges sont incroyablement préservés mais certains sont encore complètement ensevelis, la nature ayant largement repris ses droits depuis le déclin de la civilisation maya.

On finit la visite par le temple le plus emblématique.Unique. Énigmatique. magnifique !

Ça y est, c'est notre dernière soirée au Guatemala et c'est l'heure du bilan. Sache qu'on a adoré. Tes volcans, tes lacs, ton histoire. Ta surprenante et superbe diversité, finalement.

#Guatemala