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itwasntimethatdidit40 · 3 days ago

Text

Extra cream and sugar.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader Words count: 5295 Rating: +18, NSFW, MDNI. Summary: Frankie is your barista, every morning you walk into his café asking for a tall coffee with extra cream and sugar. He dreams of giving you another kind of cream… Tags: Frankie's POV, brief description of reader and what she wear but no mention of her skin tone, she doesn't blush, she has hair but it's not described (she's you, baby ♥︎) , reader has her own business, pining, yearning, slow burn, Frankie is eager for you, masturbation, obviously mention of coffee and sweets, a side of Christmas (just a glimpse), soft!Frankie, kinda rom-com vibes but we go smutty 😏, unprotected p in v (reader is on the pill but still, do better irl), cream pie, nipples play (At this point you know me so you expect it, right?), reader rides him cowgirl style (yeehaw!), teasing, Frankie wants you to tell him exactly what you want from him, pussy pronouns, Frankie is smitten with you bb, no age gap, mention of alcohol, derogatory pussy eating (because it's Frankie, you know), oral (m! receiving), masturbation, dirty thoughts, dirty talk, some more filth I probably don't remember. Please, excuse me, I'm posting this almost 2 am as the usual mess that I am LOL. If I forgot something I will add it asap. I wrote a temperature in Celsius degrees somewhere in this fic, I don't know anything about Fahrenheit, sorry, I'm Italian. A/N: This fic is my Christmas gift to all of you who support me and have loved my Frankie so much in the past, I really didn't think so many people would like him 🥹 And it's especially dedicated to @baronessvonglitter who gave me this prompt around November, I promised her I would do something with it and this is the result 🤭 No beta, no proofread, no nothing, we're going down with this ship, please have mercy. I really hope you like it and I wish you happy holidays, love you all ❤️

Frankie had been noticing you for weeks. You would arrive every morning at 10:30 and ask for tall coffee with extra cream and sugar.

He thought you looked lovely, with your sexy dresses, a dainty necklace around your neck, little makeup except for a red lipstick on your gorgeous lips.

You were the highlight of the day. He had decided to open a café after retiring from the army because there was nothing he wanted more than to live a quiet life. He had seen enough pain and destruction for two whole lifetimes, all he wanted to take care of now were coffee blends, foamed milk, blueberry muffins and chocolate chip cookies.

He loved arriving in the morning and quietly opening his place, arranging the pastries in the display cases, turning on the coffee machine, setting up the tables, and getting everything ready while waiting for the city to wake up and the customers to start arriving. You were his favorite since you first appeared before him almost 3 weeks ago, but who was counting?

You were pretty in the truest sense of the word according to him, radiant, elegant without striving, charming and nice.

He had started waiting until 10:30 just to see you, with butterflies in his stomach in anticipation and his heart pounding in his chest as soon as you walked in the door.

The first time you had spoken to him he had been enchanted by your eyes; he could have sworn they were the most beautiful he had ever seen. He had not heard a single word you had said and had made you repeat the order, apologizing.

You had laughed, and your sweet laughter had resounded in his ears like music. It had never happened to him, not even once, but at that moment it was as if everything else in the world had stopped and only you existed.

“One tall coffee to go, extra cream and sugar, please,” you had patiently repeated.

You looked so pure that it seemed almost immoral to him the way his jeans had suddenly become tight.

He had shaken himself, trying to come to his senses, hurriedly headed for the coffee machine. He had prepared your cup to go and set it on the counter in front of you "cocoa? sprinkles?" he had stammered, awkward and nervous. Heck, he'd spent years in the military, he could fly a damn helicopter, his business was going strong, but in front of you he felt like he didn't know what to do with himself.

"Uhm..sprinkles, thank you," you had smiled.

He had sprinkled colored heart-shaped sprinkles on the cream -- so pathetic, he had to admit, but they seemed to suit you --, closed it with the clear plastic lid and handed it to you, all with fear of spilling something and making a mess.

"It looks so yummy, thank you" you chirped handing money to him.

“Thanks to you, um, come again,” Frankie had stammered, running his sweaty palms over his apron.

He had watched you leave, your ass swaying deliciously wrapped in your skirt, and a whiff of your perfume had reached his nostrils, filling them with a heavenly flowery scent.

It had taken him a few seconds too long to pay attention to the next customer, a rather impatient middle-aged man who had ruined the magic you had brought into his café.

He had hoped you would come back all evening, and the next morning he woke up even earlier than usual, showered, stood several minutes in front of his closet thinking about which of his shirts you might like best, even wasted time adjusting his beard. He had even contemplated not wearing the cap he always wore with fear that you might find it silly, but in the end habit won out. Besides, he had thought, I might as well show her who I really am. That is, assuming she comes back. And if she doesn't come back? He had felt so disappointed at the idea. Maybe you hadn't even liked his coffee in the end. Once at the café, he had kept himself as busy as possible so as not to drown in false hopes, but he had found himself staring at the clock more often than he would have liked to admit.

At precisely 10:30 a.m. you had entered. You were even more beautiful than the day before, wrapped in a little flowery dress, your beautiful legs exposed, your sweet scent in the air.

He knew absolutely nothing about you, had barely spoken to you and yet his palms were sweating again, his throat was as dry as a desert, he nervously switched his weight from one leg to the other, standing behind the counter as he watched you approach.

“Good morning,” you had said, with a sweet smile spreading across your face.

“Uh...good morning,” he had stammered, ”what would you like this morning?”

“Tall coffee to go, extra cream and sugar, please.”

Your melodious voice had again gone straight to the crotch of his pants.

“Same as yesterday” he had said ”coming right up.”

“Oh, you remember!” you sounded surprised. How could he have forgotten the most beautiful creature who had ever set foot in his café?

“Um, yeah, it's my job after all” he had clutched his shoulders. He didn't remember orders from customers who had been coming to him for months, he had memorized yours instantly. He didn't need to let you know anyway.

“That's so cute,” you had observed while continuing to give him that amazing smile.

He had turned to make your coffee feeling your eyes behind his back, he was so nervous that he almost burned himself pouring the coffee into the cup.

He had managed to avoid it by a whisker; he would have hated to look clueless in front of you.

“There you go,” he had smiled nervously at you, ”be careful, it's very hot.”

“I will, thank you” you had answered him softly.

You had paid him and headed for the exit, turning to look at him before pushing open the door “Have a good day”

“Oh, thank you, you too” he had replied, his voice hoarse with excitement.

That evening he had surrendered to his lowest instincts and as soon as he had jumped into the shower after a long day's work, he had allowed himself to close his eyes and think about you.

He had tightened his hand around his cock and thought about your scent, your smile, how your dress deliciously enveloped your tits, showing off your cleavage.

He had imagined kissing you and feeling the softness of your lips, lowering a hand between your legs and discovering that you were not wearing panties, running his fingers over your wet folds and then bending over in front of you and making you come with his tongue.

He had lingered in these fantasies as he pumped his cock faster and faster, stroking the tip, imagining that it was your delicate hand doing it, your red-enameled nails wrapped around its length.

He had come in his hand, soiling the shower wall, uncontrolled, totally enraptured by the wonderful vision of you in his head.

____________________________________

He had continued to play it cool for three weeks, but by now every time you came in his head was just thinking “say something more than ‘good morning’ and ‘be careful not to burn yourself’ and ‘have a nice day,’ you idiot.” Ask her something, find out if she's involved with someone.”

So one morning he finally had attempted “Do you work near here?” he had asked, handing you your usual coffee.

You had hesitated a moment before answering, “Actually, yes, just a stone's throw away. You know that jewelry store that opened three weeks ago? That's mine.”

“Oh, great,” he had said, straining not to smile like a sucker.

“Yeah, I'm a jewelry designer, I finally got to open a store with my own brand, I'm very excited.” your eyes twinkled with pride and Frankie had thought you were so incredibly beautiful that he wanted to kiss you there and then.

You had held out your hand to him and said your name, and he had shaken it with his heart in his throat.

“Nice, and nice name by the way” he had replied instead, ‘did you make that one?’ pointing to your necklace. It had a small star-shaped pendant.

“Yes, do you like it?” you had asked, brushing it with your fingers.

“I like it very much, it looks good on you.”

“Thank you,” you had replied, smiling, ”well, if you have to give any gifts to your girlfriend or wife, come by and see me.”

“Uh, actually, I'm not married or even engaged.” He babbled, looking at you embarrassed.

“Oh. Well, I see.” and then in a lower voice and winking at him you had added, ”Can't say I'm sorry.”

Holy fuck, you were flirting.

His cock had twitched at your wink; he couldn't believe that all this time you had been reciprocating his silent interest.

“I have to go back to work, now. Have a nice day, Frankie,” you said, smiling and heading for the exit.

He was dumbfounded a few seconds wondering how you knew his name, since in the heat of the moment he hadn't even told you. Then he had looked down at his shirt, where his name tag was pinned.

“I like your cap, by the way,” you had said before you left.

“Oh. Thank you. I like your dress," he had replied a little too loudly, so much so that people at the tables had turned around cackling.

You looked at him one last time with a smug expression before disappearing down the street.

____________________________________

Christmas was coming, as much as it may have felt like Christmas in Florida with 26 degrees during the day. Frankie had decorated the café with small silver decorations at the windows, a small Christmas tree near the counter filled with lights that were also silver.

While decorating however, the only thing he was thinking about was you. He had done everything early in the morning, before opening, wondering what you were doing, if you had just woken up and were stretching in bed with your hair tousled and your eyes still clouded by sleep. He wondered what you were wearing to sleep, wondering if you were a babydoll type or more of a T-shirt and shorts type.

Or maybe you were sleeping naked. He daydreamed of your florid body wrapped in your sheets, the soft curve of your ass, your breasts, your nipples brushing against the cotton fabric.

“Shit!” he exclaimed, realizing that he had dropped one of the balls he was putting on the tree, which had ruinously fallen to the ground, splitting into a thousand pieces on the floor.

He rolled his eyes as he went to the closet to get a broom and dustpan.

Maybe it was time to stop fantasizing and get moving on asking you out.

He was terrified that you would say no but he had to do it before someone else tried. Someone like you wouldn't be alone for long.

You had entered the venue at the usual time, admiring the decorations. Frankie felt a small surge of pride in the middle of his chest as you approached the counter. “Oh wow, this is so festive, I love it.”

He knew he had just smiled like a dork but he didn't care.

In your brief little chats you had mentioned that you were not originally from Florida so he took the opportunity to ask, “Are you going to visit your family for Christmas?”

You had smiled, squinting slightly, with that look that was now familiar from when you noticed his true intentions. You had given it to him with every attempt he made to flirt with you.

“Um no, actually Christmas is the best time to work for me. So I'm going to stay here.”

He had felt his heart do a little jolt in his chest as he struggled to find the right words to ask to take you to dinner.

He felt like he had never been so awkward in his life, but the truth was that he really liked you and made him nervous with your innate confidence and the sensuality you exuded.

“Well, if you'd like to go out sometime, I'd be happy to” he babbled.

“Gladly.” you had replied, looking at him -- he would have sworn -- mischievously.

“So...um...how about Saturday? Is 7 okay?”

“Perfect. You can pick me up at the store.” you had replied, fiddling with your pendant.

“Okay, well...see you soon then.”

You had leaned over the counter for a moment, signaling him with your finger to come closer, and when you had been close enough to his ear you whispered, “It's about time.”

You had left while your voice still rang in his ears like a siren song.

On Saturday night Frankie was so nervous that he had changed his clothes four times. Finally he had decided that a blue shirt and a pair of jeans would do. Maybe.

You had said you liked his cap but he had decided it was not appropriate to wear it to take you to dinner, so he had left his hair wet and styled it back with a little gel.

He arrived at 7 parking in front of your store and entered looking for you.

You weren’t there. He had looked around and the place was just like you, elegant but not overly so, bright and warm.

There were small display cases filled with bracelets, rings, necklaces, watches even.

All very fine, carefully crafted things, not that he understood much about jewelry but they looked well made and high quality to him.

You had put little window decorations similar to his own, and he couldn't help but smile as he looked at them.

Not only you were beautiful and funny, you were also talented and smart enough to run your own business, a strong independent and brilliant woman with ambitions.

He felt a jolt down his spine feeling unworthy of you with his simpler and quieter life.

You had appeared from the back after a short while "Oh there you are! Hello!” you had greeted him with a smile, approached him and kissed his cheek. He had brushed your arm as you leaned closer, feeling your soft skin under his fingers and his heart bouncing in his chest.

"So what do you think?" you had said, gesturing to the place.

“I can't say I'm a connoisseur, but it looks like a beautiful store to me,” he had said.

“Thank you. I really like your café, too.”

“Oh, that’s nothing compared to this” he brushed off.

“I don’t think so, your coffee is so good and that cupcake I tried the other day? It was heavenly. I would say you did a great job with it” you insisted and he felt suddenly better.

"Well I actually… I don't bake them, I get them from a supplier.” He had admitted.

“You have good taste anyway.” You had shrugged, smiling.

The hold you had on him was ridiculous at that point, you could have said whatever to him and he would believe you without hesitation.

“Let me get my purse and close the store and then we can go.”

___________________________________

Frankie had tried to behave like a real gentleman, had opened the door for you, complimented you on the dress you were wearing -- continuing to ogle your thighs while you were sitting next to him -- , asked you things about yourself, your studies and your life while driving to the restaurant.

The more you chatted the more comfortable he felt, you were witty, subtly flirty, exactly what he expected.

Truth was that he would have jumped on you immediately but he was trying to control himself so you wouldn't think he was a creep.

His cock however was of a different opinion, his jeans were starting to get really tight and he was afraid you would notice. You had a smirk on your face, something that made him think it was possible that you were desiring him as much as he was desiring you but he didn't want to risk making a wrong move.

“I'm sorry not to see your cap tonight” you had joked and then added ”your hair looks good though.”

“Thank you.”

“And I like the shirt,” you had said, lingering with your gaze on his outstretched arm holding the steering wheel.

He had decided to take you to one of his favorite restaurants, nothing too fancy because he wouldn't feel comfortable, the place was warm and familiar and put him at ease.

He had asked for a table with settees, to have a chance to be closer and talk more easily.

Maybe even reach out a hand to your beautiful thighs, if he had any luck.

You had ordered and he had chosen a wine, you had continued talking, and you had asked him several questions, very politely, without making him feel like you were interviewing him.

“So you were in the army...and you can fly a helicopter. Heck, I never would have guessed that. I like a competent man,” you had cooed, and he had felt his neck and face on fire. God, he wanted you so badly he felt like he might explode at any moment.

“Yeah...apparently,” he had replied proudly.

“And how did you end up opening a cafe?”

He had become serious, feeling that he was about to open up about something very intimate “Well...I actually couldn't take that life anymore. It's very hard, you know. When I got discharged, I thought all I needed was to live a quiet life without slinging a rifle for hours and playing with danger 24/7.”

You had nodded, “sure, that's perfectly understandable. It must have been brutal.”

“It was. I decided to open a coffee shop because well... basically, I love coffee.”

You had burst out laughing, a full, lovely laugh that had made it difficult for him to keep his hands in place resting on the table.

“It makes perfect sense,” you had agreed immediately afterward.

You had kept talking until you had said, “So, Francisco Morales, I have a question for you.” your expression was enigmatic and he didn't understand where you were going with this.

“Go ahead.”

“Why haven't you kissed me yet?”

He had chuckled, “Good question. And I really want to do that. I've wanted to do it from the first moment I saw you,” he had admitted.

“Then do it,” you had urged him.

He had moved closer toward your lips, breathing in your perfume mixed with the scent of your skin; you smelled good, clean, like a sunny morning in spring.

Your lips were even better than he had imagined. Soft, delicious, inviting. You were incredible.

Everything around was suddenly gone, there was only you and the way your lips encouraged him to continue, the way they had parted at the approach of his tongue, your intoxicating taste on his tongue.

Your fingers lingered on his biceps, wandering over his shirt and down his forearm, while his hand wrapped around your face caressing your cheek.

He had pulled away from you a moment before putting on a show inside the restaurant, his hands tingling with the urge to touch your breasts, reach down between your legs, get rid off your dress and finally feel your body against his.

“God...maybe we should go,” you had whispered, hiding your face in the crook of his neck.

“I think so, too,” he had breathed.

He had stood up trying to keep at bay his erection pressing impatiently against his jeans.

He had paid the bill and escorted you out, despite your insistence to go halfsies.

Once you reached the car he had not resisted and had kissed you again, pushing you against the door. “I want you so bad,” he had whispered against your skin.

“Take me home,” you had replied, looking into his eyes in a way that drove him crazy.

Once in the car, you had placed your hand on his leg squeezing it from time to time. At a stoplight, you had moved your hand to his hard-on, massaging it slowly. “God, you are naughtier than I thought.”

"Is that bad?" you had asked feigned innocence.

“Not at all, baby...if I'm being honest...fuck...” he had interrupted when you had squeezed harder on his cock ”Christ, I can't wait to rip that dress off you.”

“I’m glad to hear that” you had replied in a honeyed voice.

_________________________________

The instant you had entered the door he had dragged you into the bedroom.

He had pulled down the zipper of your dress, letting it fall at your feet, and pushed you onto the bed.

“You're so beautiful.” he had whispered, almost more to himself, as if trying to convince himself that indeed everything he had imagined in previous weeks was coming out of the territory of his wanking material.

“You too,” you had replied sweetly, ”why don't you get rid of those clothes and come and get me?”

Frankie hadn't had it repeated, standing naked in front of you in an instant; he had never undressed so quickly even when he was in the army and had to observe a curfew.

He had stretched out beside you, his cock semi hard, his hands roaming over the bare skin of your hips over your panties, reaching up to graze your lace bra, brushing against your exposed neck as you lay limply sprawled on his bed as beautiful as a goddess.

“Tell me what you want me to do, baby,” he had whispered.

“What you want, I-” you had tried to answer but he had interrupted you.

“No, tell me, please. I would like to hear it. I would like you to tell me exactly what you would like me to do to you.,” he had urged you “is that okay?”

“Yeah” you murmured

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I like it…so uhm…Undo my bra and play with my titties, first. Would you?” You cooed.

“Of course, honey” he replied

You got up to sit to ease it, and then you lay down again as he tossed the bra to one side.

Frankie's eyes were fixed on your exposed breasts, he reached out a hand surrounding one of them with his palm, marveling at the softness of your skin.

“Jesus, I’ve never seen anything more perfect”

Your skin exuded an enveloping warmth that flowed through his body and merged with him. He moved a finger closer to your areola, circling your nipple very slowly and then pinching it suddenly, making you gasp.

“Too much?”

“No…go on” you sobbed “please”

“How?” He pressed you gently, continuing to brush your nipple with his fingertip.

“With your mouth…” you murmured.

He was full hard at that point, his cock grazing at your thigh while he lowered himself on your of your tit, sticking out his tongue and making you arch your spine as soon as he kitten licked your nipple. He smirked “mmm so sensitive, baby” before wrapping his lips around your bud and beginning to suck slowly, his beard pinching lightly against your skin.

His tongue brushed over you in short thrusts as he sucked greedily, his hand slowly descended over your torso, over your tummy, down to your mound and had stopped there, just above the hem of your panties.

You groaned beneath him, melting at his touch, he could feel your body slowly becoming more pliant to him.

“Yes - oh my god - go on like that” you whined and he couldn’t help but smile on your skin.

“What more do you want me to do?” he had asked, and to your discomposed groaning he had replied ”with your words, remember?”

He liked that you were slowly losing control, your barely half-closed eyes glazed with pleasure silently pleading with him.

“Touch…touch my pussy. Please”

He had moved his fingers down from your mound, slowly, over your folds, feeling your body tense deliciously.

His index and middle fingers had slipped between them, bathing in your essence.

"God, you're soaked," and you had panted.

You looked like a dream to him, your hair disheveled on his sheets, your legs spread wide for him, your breath coming in short gasps, your little pendant that rose and fell on your chest as he worked in your cunt with his fingers, lingering on your opening, going up to your clit and barely touching it, leaving you eager and hungry, just as he wanted.

"mmm more, please" you had begged and a smirk had unfolded on his face "be more specific, baby"

“I want ... fuck ... I want you to put them in me.”

"Yeah? You want me to finger-fuck this pretty cunt?” He purred, while stroking your labia, gently circling your clit with his thumb.

“Yes” you had sighed and he had easily entered you, slipping into your arousal.

He had curled his fingers looking for your special spot as you squeezed them hard “Oh damn...right there...God Frankie...right there” you had whined as a swell of pride was spreading in his chest and his cock throbbed.

You had the sweetest pussy he had ever been lucky enough to see, the obscene wet sounds coming out of her as he never stopped moving his fingers inside you was heaven.

You were magnificent, just magnificent, his cock was begging for mercy but he had no intention of rushing it. He wanted to fill his eyes with you, he wanted to see you sink beneath him, to lose your inhibitions completely.

Every fiber of his body longed for you but he stifled his need to take care of yours first; it was too good to see you like that, your pussy clenching convulsively, your mouth half-open, your moans filling his ears.

“I need...your mouth...”

“Where?” he had asked feigning naivete.

"On my clit...please" you had cried.

He had moved, taking down your panties, lowering to reach for your clit, passing his tongue flatly all over it.

“suck it,” you had said in a whisper, ”please.”

And so he had done, taking it between his lips, savoring your taste on his tongue as you cried your last wail and broke down in shattering pleasure.

Your back had arched, your hand had flown through his hair as the other gripped his sheets tightly, and your hips pushed against his lips, your lips bent in a grimace of pleasure that radiated into your eyes, your pupils dilated, tiny droplets of sweat beading on your forehead.

“Yes… fuck… YES”

He had continued to lick and suck and push on your spot until you had calmed down.

But you were not yet satiated, as soon as you had regained the ability to speak you had whispered, “I want your cock.”

“Mmm baby” he had said arching an eyebrow, scrutinizing your face unmade with pleasure and your eyes still glazed with your orgasm.

“Really. I want it.”

You had accompanied this last sentence by wrapping your delicate hand around his length "he wants me too," you had said with a smirk, beginning to massage him, running a finger over the tip to collect the pre cum dripping down profusely from it.

“who am I to say no to you...do what you want, baby” he had granted you.

As much as he had tried to dominate, he had to admit that he was completely subdued by you, and he didn't mind it, he didn’t mind that at all.

You had gotten up and gently pushed him onto the mattress, settling between his legs, locking your gaze with his, a glint of desire in your eyes as you began to lick his engorged tip, sliding down his shaft humming in pleasure “mmm you taste so good” you cooed.

"God, baby, if you do this I'm not going to last long."

He had craned his neck not to miss any of your moves, but he already felt he was on the verge of bursting, had tried to control his breathing and stay right on the edge, without plummeting down.

"Hold on a little longer, I want you to finish in my pussy. Please, Frankie?” You had purred.

He had let out a long sigh as your mouth descended on his cock, enveloping it as much as you could, continuing to stroke the rest with your hand. You had red nail polish, just like in his fantasies, but the reality was even better. Your mouth was incredible around his cock, your tongue vexing his swollen veins, your saliva sliding slowly going to pool on his crotch.

“Please, baby,” he had grunted, and you had hummed in response, vibrating on his cock.

Your tongue had swirled over his red, swollen tip, then you had pulled away and said, "Please what?" glancing at him.

“Sit on me, please, I can’t…” he had groaned.

You had moved warily, straddling him, taking his cock back into your hand, aligning it with your entrance.

You had lowered yourself slowly, moaning "you are so thick" as he felt your cunt open up for him, your walls stretch and your essence coiling around him mixing with your saliva.

“And you are so tight ... fuck, baby, it’s so good.”

The instant you had sat completely on him had been unreal, he felt so deep inside you he swore he was pressing against your cervix, and you were squeezing him so hard he had thought he would lose his mind. You began to roll your hips over him, rubbing your clit with your fingers while your other hand was anchored on his hip.

He had begun to move his hips in rhythm with yours, thrusting inside you “harder” you had urged him “please, Frankie”

He was lost in the instant he had seen you bring one hand to your tit, kneading your breast as you continued to ride him faster and faster, pinching your nipple while rubbing your clit with the other.

“I’m coming…fuck..where, babe?” He had stammered and you cried “inside, please, I’m on the pill.” You had thrown your head back immediately after, your eyes closed, your mouth open, your disheveled hair falling over your neck, seeing you so totally ravished had made him explode inside you, painting your hot, soaked walls with his cum.

You were collapsed on top of him, wrapping yourself around his body while he was still pulsing inside you. You had waited for his breathing to return to normal by peppering his neck with little kisses, going up his jaw and ending on his lips.

He had hugged you tightly, reveling in your warmth, the softness of your breasts on his chest, your legs wrapped tightly with his, and the intoxicating scent of your skin.

You had hummed in the crook of his neck, then looked into his eyes and moved a lock of hair from his sweat-beaded forehead, kissing him one more time, his mustache tickling your cupid's bow.

“From the first time I saw you, I knew we would end up like this, you know?” you had said with a proud undertone.

“Oh yeah?” he had replied, wryly raising an eyebrow, ”how were you so sure?”

You had looked at him with the look of someone who knows very well what she is talking about and had replied, “For three reasons. First, I noticed right away how you were looking at me, second, I wanted it too and usually when I want something I get it, and third, you never charged me for the extra cream.”

bb tag list: @aurorawritestoescape @harriedandharassed @milla-frenchy @almostempty @thundermartini @cas-readsandwrites @lemon-nomel

I would like to add a couple of special people that I am starting to know a little bit better and I like them a lot: @arcanefox207 @joelmillerisapunk @gothcsz @msjarvis

archive: @pedrostories

#frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales fanfiction #pedro pascal #frankie morales smut #frankie morales #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal characters fanfic #frankie catfish morales #francisco morales x reader #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier au #pedro pascal character fiction #ppcu fandom #ppcu fanfiction

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heavyhitterheaux · 1 day ago

Text

Santa Tell Me

See Me Through You Series

Synopsis: It's your first time celebrating Christmas with Joe as a couple as your first semester at LSU comes to an end. The two of you celebrate in your own little way seeing as Joe is going back home while you are headed to New Orleans. However, you confide in your best friend about your hesitations about getting into another relationship so quickly and hoping that what feels like a fairy tale isn't too good to be true

Pairing: Boyfriend!Joe Burrow x Girlfriend!Reader

Series Masterlist

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

The timer went off once again letting you know that all of the cookies were now officially done baking. As you were taking them out of the oven and placing them on the cooling rack, Erin attempted to grab one to eat it when you quickly slapped her hand away resulting in her letting out a yelp followed by her glaring at you.

“Ow!”

“Those are specifically for Joey so we can decorate them once he gets here. I literally just made you an entire cheesecake.”

“But I want a cookie, too!” Erin exclaimed, but you weren't budging.

“No and he should be here soon.”

As you sat at the table in your small kitchen, Erin sat across from you and had begun eating her cheesecake when you suddenly asked her a question which caught her off guard.

“Erin, what if me and Joe break up? And that cheesecake was not meant for it to be eaten in one sitting.” You casually asked as you unlocked your phone to play one of the many games that you had installed.

“Huh? What in the world are you even talking about? And I'll just ask for another one.” She asked as she put her fork down to look at you.

“What if we break up and we don't work out? I literally just hopped from one relationship to another and…”

“Stop. Just stop. I have on my Christmas sweater and I am eating my Christmas treats you made me and we are listening to Justin Bieber's Under the Mistletoe and you are fucking the vibe up.”

“But…”

“No, we are not doing this. You two haven't been together very long, but Joe literally worships the ground you walk on. The way he even looks at you is insane. That boy is IN LOVE.” Erin said as she now opened the freezer to take out the ice cream you thought you were discreetly hiding from her, but it looks as though you efforts had failed.

“But what if it's too good to be true? Sometimes It doesn't even feel real.”

“You literally have no idea of what happiness looks like even if it hits you in the face. He has been after you basically the entire semester and now that he finally has you and you have him, you think that the two of you are going to end up breaking up? Make it make sense, babe.”

“Everything started out too good to be true with Trevor and look what happened with that.”

“Uh no, boo. Trevor had been an asshole from the beginning, it just took you forever and a day to notice. Everyone else saw it but you. You’ve been treated like shit for so long that your ass is literally blinded to how good you actually have it. I mean Joe hit me up a few weeks ago to help him pick out your Christmas gift or gifts I should say.”

“Wait, he did what?”

“Oops. I wasn’t supposed to say anything so let’s just pretend I didn’t. But they're really pretty and I know that you’re going to like it.”

“I just… he’s really important to me and I just want this to work out between us.”

“And it will. I literally started planning the wedding the day you two met because I saw the way you lit up when you talked about him. It’s going to work out and I will be the first person to say ‘I told you so’ when you are walking down the aisle.”

“I’m holding you to that seeing as it’s still pretty early to be singing about wedding bells.”

“But for now, it’s December, we almost made it through our first semester as college students, you have a very cute boyfriend who wants to spend every waking moment of the day with you so you need to make the most of it.”

“You’re right, I do need to make the most of it seeing as it’ll be a few weeks where we won’t see each other since he’s going back home.”

“And his birthday is coming up too. So, my vote is to have Christmas early with the two of you. Hopefully by doing this you won’t miss him so much on the actual day since the two of you kind of already celebrated in your own way.”

“I mean, I did get us matching Christmas pajamas to decorate our cookies, drink hot chocolate, and watch cheesy Hallmark movies.”

“See? Perfect. And I know that he is going to love every minute of it. But for now, I am going to go study for one of my many finals and hope and pray that the words on the pages in the textbooks somehow transfer themselves to my brain. Let me know how everything goes.” Erin told you as she wrapped up her cheesecake and placed it in a plastic bag hoping none of the filling would get on the seats in her car.

“Me saying ‘I told you so’ is going to hit so hard in a few years. But….” She was cut off mid-sentence as there was a knock on the door.

“And look at that, there he is. Let's go see your future husband.”

You couldn't help but to laugh and shake your head at Erin as she was gathering all of her things, while you went to go and answer the door. Once you did, you were met with your boyfriend carrying a shitload of different bags and him leaning down to kiss you.

“Okay, you two! Spare my eyes, I'm leaving so Joe can turn you every way but loose without me having to see it.”

“Bye, Erin.” Was all you said as she continued to smile at the both of you.

“Hi Joe, Bye Joe.” She told him as he fully walked into your apartment as she was headed out the door.

“Bye Erin.”

Once the two of you were by yourselves, you immediately started questioning Joe about the many bags he brought.

“Uh, babe? Are you moving in and didn't tell me yet?” You asked and he let out a laugh before starting to open some of them and pull out their contents.

“I just bought a bunch of different things we could do. It's almost finals week and I wanted to spend as much time with you as possible. And you have literally been playing this album since the day after Halloween.”

“Aww, I love it. Okay so tell me what you bought. And what about it!?” You asked as he had set everything down and motioned for you to sit down on the couch so he could show you.

“So my chess set. Ever since I taught you how to play, you said that you were going to try and beat me before the semester was over and never mind that I even said anything. Low key convinced that you're going to break up with me and get with Justin.”

“Very true but athletes are my thing, not singers.”

“My telescope since you love learning about space as much as I do. And I guess that means I'm safe?”

“I am loving this so far and yes, babe. You're safe.” You told him as you placed the chess set on the table.

“Madden. Since I know if you were able to be on the field with us, you would be. But I mean I can't sing all that well, but if you want me to serenade you just say the word.”

“Good point and seriously?” You replied while laughing.

“And I think that's it for now. I could only carry so much. But you'll be the one hitting high notes with how good I'm making you feel.” He told you as he shrugged while you gave him a small smile while also shaking your head at him.

“It's absolutely perfect and I have something for you too. I'm ignoring that last part.”

“What is it? Before the night is over, I'm making it happen.” Joe said as you ran into your bedroom to find the bag that they were in before coming back out into the living room.

“Matching Christmas pajamas.”

“Oh, so we're that type of couple now?” Joe teased as you rolled your eyes.

“Yes, and this is literally going to happen starting from this year until forever.” You replied as Joe moved closer towards you and put his finger underneath your chin in order for you to be able to look up at him.

“Forever? I like the sound of that.” He quietly said while leaning down to kiss you.

“But for now, we also have cookies to decorate that I baked and hot chocolate to drink.”

“Let’s do it.”

The two of you got comfortable in your pajamas before starting to decorate the cookies and you were multitasking with making the hot chocolate at the same time.

Joe was concentrating hard when you decided to peek over and take a look at what he was doing.

“Joey, I thought you were making a Santa cookie?” You asked while a little bit confused on what you were actually looking at.

“I am! This looks like Santa! I just need to do his beard.”

“And his hat.” You added noticing that was missing also.

“Not everyone can be an amazing baker in their spare time like you.”

“Hmm, you're right, but it doesn't look bad. If I opened my own bakery, I might hire you. I do happen to be a woman of many talents. So, someone mentioned to me that you got my Christmas gift already?”

Joe stopped decorating his cookie to look at you with a blank stare.

“No. I'm not telling you what it is and I am never telling Erin anything else ever again.”

“But babe!”

“No. Final answer.” Joe replied as you rolled your eyes at him which then led to him pinching your cheek.

“Fix your face. I want it to be a surprise and I don't plan on spoiling it for you.”

“Well I got you a gift for your birthday as well as Christmas. It didn't feel right combining both of them together.”

“And unlike my girlfriend, I'm going to be patient and wait.”

“You mean to tell me that you aren't the least bit curious about what I got you?” You asked him and you could tell he was thinking about his answer before he said it.

“Nope.”

“Liar. I know that you definitely want to know. But I'll just say I know that both of them are something that you're really going to love.” You told him as you reached up to kiss him.

“As much as I love you?”

“No, but knowing you it might come close.” You told him as you were now putting the final touches on the hot chocolate you made for the two of you and handed him his mug.

“And like I said, I'll be patient unlike some other people.”

“I'm ignoring you. Anyway, break out the telescope since it's clear tonight and we'll be able to see something.”

Once Joe had gotten the telescope set up by the window, you were just finishing your hot chocolate and went to place your mug in the dishwasher before going back into the living room and seeing Joe with a bashful smile across his face.

“Why are you smiling at me like that?” You asked while wrapping your arms around him and Joe leaned down to place a kiss on your forehead before responding to you.

“I'm about to show you. Stand in front of me and look through it. Don't adjust anything.” He said as he slowly turned you around so that you would be facing it.

You did as you were told and noticed that it was focused on one single star.

“I see it, babe. What's so special about it?” You asked as you turned back to look at him and he simply handed you an envelope.

“It's the star that I got named after us.”

Your eyes went wide and a smile broke out on your face as you took out the contents of the envelope and it simply said Y/N and Joey's Star at the top.

Underneath was a map detailing where you would be able to find it.

“So no matter where we are, whether together or apart. We can be able to look at it at the same time. This isn't a part of your Christmas gifts by the way, I just wanted to do it since I figured you would like it.” He shyly told you as the smile became wider on your face. You didn't say anything, but simply wrapped your arms around him once again.

“This was… no… this is definitely the sweetest thing that anyone has ever done for me. I honestly wouldn't have even been upset if this did end up being my Christmas gift. I love it and I love you which you already knew, but I figured that I would tell you anyway.” You quietly told him as he leaned down to place several kisses on your lips.

“And I love you. Remember earlier how you mentioned that matching pajamas are going to be a thing for us forever?” Joe asked and you gave him a swift nod.

“Mm hmm, what about it?”

“This is also going to be something that we have forever. Any time we get in a disagreement or we're not seeing eye to eye with each other, we need to remember that we're in this together for the long run. And looking up at the star can remind us of that. I know we haven't been together for very long, but I want this with you and I've been saying from day one how I'm going to treat you how you deserve to be treated.” Joe confessed and the smile on your face couldn't help but to get bigger.

“I'm going to hold you to that Burrow.”

“How about you hold me to this too? Look up for me?”

As you looked up, you saw that Joe was holding a mistletoe above the both of you.

“Any excuse to get more kisses from me, huh?” You playfully asked him and was met with a smirk.

“I mean, I've been getting kisses from the moment I got here, but this is just a plus.” He told you as he leaned down and you reached up to meet him halfway.

“And there will be many more where that came from.”

“Santa definitely did his big one this year.”

“How so?”

“I get to spend it with someone who I know cares about me just as much as I care about them. That's literally all I asked for.”

#Spotify #joe burrow #joe burrow lsu #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow x black reader #joe burrow fluff #joe burrow fanfic #joe burrow fanfiction #joe shiesty #joey burrow

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gatorbites-imagines · 2 days ago

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Hi, can I please get Wally West x trans reader? Maybe something where the reader is feeling dysphoric and he comforts them, and also some dry humping?

Wally West x FTM reader

Headcanons

Readers vaguely based off of Daredevil, since I like that guy a lot. And the mental image of Wally and his gritty boyfriend is fun to me. Don’t correct me on if keystone city is right, idc.

Nobody could really tell when you and Wally started dating. You just happened to be a vigilante in Keystone city before Wally showed up after being kid flash and all that. His presence really messed up your mojo.

You were the devil incarnate, ready to break as many bones as it took, but you didn’t kill. That didn’t stop you from maiming folk though. Having Wally swoop by to bring people to the hospital and then be back to try and lecture you, really hurt your image.

You were there first though, so there was no way Wally was gonna stop you from doing what you had to do. In the beginning it was kind of like a new tomcat showing up in someone else’s territory.

You didn’t have the speed to be all over the city like Wally, so it was kind of accepted that hed take care of everything else when you were busy. People started begging for Wally to be the one to catch them doing a crime, since you’d break their kneecaps, and then nail them in the head with your billy club.

The relationship between you two was kind of a running joke in the league, especially in the Titans. They all knew that Wally thought you were hot in your own broody, horned way. Someone, probably Garfield, would joke about your suits matching, since you both were red. And yellow, if you wear the yellow and red daredevil suit.

You two were kinda like Batman and Superman, in a way. With you being broody, growly, the night, I am vengeance and will make you suffer the consequences. And Wally being easier going and lighter, full of jokes and hope.

That didn’t mean Wally couldn’t snap and get down and gritty if he needed to. That was probably when you started feeling attracted to him in return, when he couldn’t go easy on somebody who deserved it.

Up until this point you’d have picked up the changes in his pheromones and body heat, as well as his heartrate, which made you understand that he liked you. But it was after you smelled the blood on him and heard his blush rushing through his veins from an almost animalistic adrenaline that you started returning the feelings.

You guys probably date for months, if not a year before the league and the Titans figure it out. Wally would say something about needing to get back to the city since he had to make it in time for your anniversary dinner, and that’s when everyone would figure it out.

The two of you a very much opposites attract. Someone is gonna try to use your relationship with Wally to make you join the league, but he wards them off before you can break tall their teeth for even asking.

You being trans doesn’t matter much to Wally, outside of how it may affect your relationship. And by that I mean, if you for example don’t want him touching your torso or specific areas of your body, what wording to use, helping you with your T injections, so on and so forth.

Hes more perceptive than people think, at least after you guys have been dating a while. Hed start noticing the different signs that point at you feeling dysphoric. Like you going out for longer patrols because being the devil makes you feel more masculine. Or you wearing your binder for too long, if you need one of those.

I don’t think hes just gonna appear and demand answers, instead Wally has tried to figure out overtime what might help. He knows you aren’t the type to just talk about all your feelings and what can be done about it, so Wally would try to find other ways to be supportive and helpful.

You can always tell what he’s doing, since Wally starts going on about how handsome his boyfriend is, how manly you are and smell, how good your muscles look. Even if he’s buffer than you, you better expect him to drool over your muscles.

If you are fine with being touched, Wally would also just cuddle you when you have days where you struggle to look at yourself or even being in your own body. Hes always ready to talk or make changes if he can do anything to help, or just lay in silence if that’s what you need too, even if laying still for a longer time is difficult for a speedster.

Having a speedster boyfriend also means it’s easy to sense it’s him. Having the abilities you do, means you can point out any hero or villain you’ve met before, even in a crowd of a thousand. But the speedster’s connection to the speed force makes them so easy to point out.

It becomes a comfort for you, to feel the buzz that’s seemingly always present around Wally. It’s different around each speedster, but Wally is the most special out of all of them, to you anyways.

Having a speedster boyfriend also means you have access to something very few do, a boyfriend who can vibrate and who has close to no recovery period. This just means Wally is all over you on days where you are fine with that.

And if its one of those days where you want to get off to deal with dysphoria, you barely have to say anything before he’s on you, or beside you, or behind you.

Dysphoria means you don’t want to be touched skin on skin sometimes, and on days like this, good ol dry humping is just as good as anything else Wally could think up. Hes especially a fan when its him laying down and you on top.

It makes you seem so strong and in charge, even if your eyes can’t meet since well… you cant see like the average person. Wally is just giddy and almost buzzing out of his skin as you guys grind together, his hands shaking where they’re holding your hips.

Your heightened senses let you notice just how much he starts buzzing when he gets close. Other people would never notice until he’s just above to fall over the edge, but you can almost taste how his scent and pheromones start buzzing in the air when he’s turned on.

Hearing his heart race and his blood rushing through his body becomes a turn-on in its own way, just as much as grinding down on him and listening to him moan. Wally is also the type to kiss when you guys grind together, his tongue almost fizzy feeling against your own.

It becomes a lot easier to forget your dysphoria with a boyfriend like Wally, who does everything in his power to distract you from it, especially when he gets to rut against you and moan into your ear or neck. Just watch out for small sparks that might come off him, and that your senses don’t get too overwhelmed thanks to the speed force.

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heyftinally · 2 days ago

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I specifically want to elaborate on this part:

Decontextualizing and rephrasing an interview: I am not going to pretend that I am an expert in academic best practices, but I do believe one thing, if a person is speaking on their own identity and lived experience, it is always much better to directly quote than it is to rephrase. As I read this source, I initially didn't know that it was AI, and I was already upset. An interview that is widely available on the internet with no pay wall, was poorly sourced and made more vague than it was in the initial text. By creating one degree of seperation between the original words of A WRITER (whose literal job was largely based in choosing the right words to describe experiences they had) harm is already done. It makes vague what was once clear, and removes Keri Hulme's voice from her own narrative.

As someone who has spent a LOT of time and effort on the nitty-gritty of quoting others in professional documents, I feel like I have a pretty good foundation on which to speak about this.

As a general rule, you want to directly quote the speaker as much as possible.

First and foremost, this is because you don't want to put words in their mouth or misrepresent what they said, as that's dishonest on your part as the interviewer/writer/etc, and harms your credibility. Remember the "Coolsville sucks" meme? Yeah, don't be that person. Quotes should be full and verbatim as much as possible, because anything else presents the possibility that you aren't accurately or fully representing what the speaker said.

The second reason is because when you re-word someone else's quote, you inherently inject your own biases into the new version you create. What that means is, consciously or unconsciously, you are influencing the way readers perceive what was said. This is bad because at best, you're speaking over the person who's quote you re-worded. At worst, you're manipulating your readers to think as you do, regardless of what the original quote said.

When presenting a quote from someone else, your job is to communicate as clearly as possible the speaker's original statement and intention. If giving the direct quote is not possible, careful paraphrasing is vital.

If I say "Sara James then went on to express her dissatisfaction with the pay she received", what would you assume the original quote is?

It could be "Yeah, I found out I was only getting paid ⅓ as much as my costar, even though I have 40% more screen time and I did almost all of my own stunts, so needless to say I'm not happy and I've been talking to my team."

But it could ALSO be "I was surprised when I found out what we were all getting paid. Not to sound like a total nepo baby or anything, but normally the projects I do pay more, y'know? But then I found out that the reason pay was lower for everyone - not just me - was because production was donating a whole bunch of money to the local children's hospital since we filmed in the lot next door. Which I thought was really cool of them! Like, obviously the hospital doesn't get much say in the filming, so I thought it was really cool of production to give back as, like, a thank you. Plus we got to go visit the kids, which was just amazing!"

TECHNICALLY in both of these, you could argue that displeasure about pay IS mentioned - but the specifics of the situation are entirely lost in the oversimplified paraphrasing, and THAT is why changing direct quotes can be dangerous.

So, yeah. I just wanted to elaborate on that particular point because it's one I covered *heavily* while in college. How you quote someone is important.

":')))))))) you realise that gen AI is available to everyone though right??? Queer creators can use it just as much as anyone else??? I just don't understand this post... It really feels like a cheap way to get on the 'AI Bad's bandwagon, and coming from such a thoughtful and insightful creator that's incredibly disappointing... It's okay to not comment on subjects you're not an expert in y'know...?"

Y'all know the drill, I am replying to this publicly but that is not an invitation to send any negative messages to the person I am replying to.

Anyways, let me start by saying that the original context of the post you're replying to is discussing an event where a queer org used generative AI to steal an interview with Keri Hulme. So let's start there. To be clear I don't even know if the original interviewer was queer so let's put the identities of stealer and stolen from to the side. I want to explain the harm done in this example specifically and I hope this is illustrative of what harm generative AI can (and does) do.

The original place I saw generative AI was a queer org that explicitly says they are using generative AI "for good", and as a way to bring more queer history to light. So let's take them at their word, and assume they are not out to cause harm. This is the best example of generative AI that I can imagine, so I hope that makes it clear that I am not coming at this issue from bad faith in any way.

Here is the harm they are causing:

The original interviewer is not paid, or given proper recognition: I get it, sometimes just copy pasting an interview doesn't feel transformative enough, but something that one would learn if they worked in the queer history field and weren't a literal robot rehashing what has already been said, is that not everything needs to be transformed. In those cases, we give credit to the person who said the original words (in this case Keri Hulme), and the interviewer who facillitated the conversation (in this case Shelley Bridgeman). This case (again a best case scenario), takes the attention and byline away from the original interviewer and gives it to an AI.

The original publisher of this story is deinsentivised from paying interviewers in the future: The original publisher of this interview has ads on their website. As a person who also has ads on their website, taking an article like this and rephrasing it for no good reason (the orginal word count was not prohibitive and the rephrasing did not make it more readable), takes money from the publisher. It's pennies, but it's also removing numbers could have been used to justify further interviews with asexual people and archiving of asexual stories. The org that stole from this publication does not interview people themselves so the money and numbers that could have gone to continue to preserve asexual stories goes to stealing them instead.

These are just the active harms that I saw in this specific case. As you said, I am not an expert in generative AI, and will not be speaking as if I am. But I will say that asking me not to speak out on active harm that is being caused in queer history spaces, is disrespectful to my many years in this field.

To illustrate this even clearer: if you were a patron, you would know I recently took down an old article. I have been rereading and editing our backlist of articles, and I found one that no longer fit my standards of sourcing. My standards had recently raised due to a video made by HBomberguy about someone in the queer history space who was stealing from other creators. I watched this video not as a work project, but because I watch most of HBomberguys videos, and this one made me think more critically about sourcing. An AI can't do that. All an AI has is what has been inputted, and it is right now impossible to input every available peice of information about ethics into an AI and get a coherent ethical basis on which it will function.

It is a distinctly human trait to absorb information and change in that way. AI can rephrase information that already exists, steal it, recontextualize it even, but it cannot create something altogether new.

Do I believe that there one day might be an ethical use for Generative AI? Maybe. Do I believe that coming into a queer history space, stealing the words of a Maori asexual author, rephrasing them, and giving the original interviewer and publication no form of compensation for their work, is accomplishing that? No.

On a more personal note: I am coming at this issue with a bias. As a queer history creator, I do not want AI in my space, because it is literally damaging to my financial prospects. It has been like pulling teeth to try and get patrons in the current state of the global economy. I don't blame anyone from that, but I feel very disrespected that I am being asked to compete with a machine now. Not only that, but I am being asked to shut up and be fine with it? No, absolutely not. I cannot and will not stay quiet as space that I have fought tooth and nail to create in mainstream discussions is taken and given to AI.

AI was not supporting me when I was sent gore to try and scare me off of discussing queer history. A person did that. AI was not there to tell me I had written too many sad stories, and I needed some happy endings to remind myself of the good in the world. A person did that. AI was not there when I was being harrassed for supporting and including asexual stories on my website. A person did that.

And after all that, I am being asked to lie down and take it when my ability to pay the people who supported me in those ways, is being threatened. Nope. Not going to happen.

An AI doesn't have to make rent. An AI doesn't understand what it feels like to have to stop holding their wife's hand in public. An AI didn't get calls from people needing comfort in reaction to the election. Pay me for my work, and get this AI nonsense out of my face.

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keehomania · 6 hours ago

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bad religion — rcm (18+)

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ smut, angst, minors dni, sexually explicit content below the cut, bartender!reader, unrequited love, slowburn, crashout!rafe, nobody understands him like i do, reader lowkey has bob the builder mentality, no religious themes despite the title, dirty talk, gun play, alcohol consumption, drug usage, if it brings me to my knees, it’s a bad religion; this unrequited love

it started off as a way to pay off your student loans—tuition, housing, supplies. the minute you enrolled, you had picked up the job. it was supposed to be temporary, just until you found a better solution, but time had a way of slipping through your fingers. years later, you were still standing behind the counter, wiping spills, pouring drinks, and serving customers whose names you rarely bothered to learn. the debt was gone, long since paid off, but you hadn’t managed to leave. you told yourself it was because the money was decent, but deep down, you knew the truth: you didn’t know where else to go.

the roadside had become something of a second home to you, though a noisy, sticky one. you liked the rhythm of it, the way the nights started off slow and built to a fever pitch, only to settle into a steady hum again by closing time. you liked the regulars, too—the older men who came in after long shifts at the docks or the factory. they nursed beers as if they were lifelines and tipped generously, their wallets loosening with each drink. they were kind, if a little lonely, and they made your job bearable.

the others weren’t as pleasant. there were men with slicked-back hair and gold watches, the kind who brought their wives to brunch in the mornings, but showed up at the roadside every night with someone new on their arm. whiskey neat for him, a bright, sugary cocktail for her—each woman seemingly younger, blonder, and more compliant than the last. they never tipped, and they always left a mess. you hated them the most.

and then there were the tourists. they breezed in like they owned the place, their faces sunburned and shining, and almost always said the same thing: “surprise me.” you never did. you’d pour them a vodka soda with light ice, knowing it would do the job. they didn’t care about flavor or nuance, just speed, and you weren’t about to waste good liquor on someone who wouldn’t appreciate it.

over time, the faces all blurred together. you’d seen so many people come and go that you’d stopped trying to remember them. the roadside was a revolving door, and you preferred it that way. no attachments, no complications.

“on the clock?” you looked up, having been lost in thought, polishing a variety of glasses and setting them away. he was sat in front of you, a look of near disinterest playing on his face. he almost seemed ticked off. the scent of his cologne clashed with the smell of gin. he fashioned a buzzcut, a polo shirt, and a pair of shorts. tan, blond—he’d have been disney’s dream if he was just a few years younger. if he wasn’t so easy to recognize, you would’ve mistaken him for a tourist. “unfortunately,” you responded with an honesty that almost made him smile. “what can i get you?”

for a second, he didn’t respond. you stood in front of him, with nothing but the counter separating you, but it did little to stop either of you from staring. his light blue eyes bored into yours without the faintest shade of shame. there seemed to be a grey hue to them that the photos of him never captured. rafe cameron, what were the chances of him showing up? he had gained a certain reputation thanks to his father, and his tendency to act out in public. maybe it was best if you said nothing. so, you broke the gaze.

“single malt scotch,” he answered, leaning forward against the counter. you nodded, doing your best to ignore the way his eyes followed your every movement, paired with the uncanny order that screamed toxic masculinity. you grabbed the bottle of scotch from the shelf, careful not to let your hands tremble as you poured the amber liquid into a clean glass. the sound of the pour filled the silence between you, and you were hyperaware of his gaze tracking every movement. it wasn’t just curiosity; it felt calculated, as though he were sizing you up, deciding if you were worth his attention.

the scotch settled in the glass, and you slid it across the counter toward him. “here you go,” you announced, your voice steady despite the prickle of unease his presence stirred. rafe pulled out a wallet from his pocket and laid a crisp bill on the counter, more than enough to cover the drink. his movements were deliberate, slow, as if he enjoyed the way it kept you waiting. “keep the change,” he muttered, picking up the glass and taking a measured sip.

you tucked the bill into the register, brushing off the way his tone lingered in the air. glancing around the bar, you noticed a lull in the activity. the older regulars were nursing their drinks, and the tourists had either left or were too absorbed in their own conversations to need you. your eyes drifted to the window, catching sight of a dirt bike parked just outside. its sleek red and black frame stood out against the muted colors of the streetlights.

“that your bike?” you asked, your curiosity slipping through before you could stop yourself. rafe’s lips quirked up slightly as he set his glass down. “yeah, ktm. you know bikes?”

“not really,” you admitted, leaning your hip against the counter. “but it’s a nice one. looks fast.”

“it is.” he took another sip, his eyes still on you. “you like fast things?”

there it was—the subtle shift in his tone, just enough to make the question feel loaded. you raised a brow, refusing to let him get under your skin. “depends on the thing,” you replied coolly. “fast isn’t always better.”

the smirk on his face deepened, and for a moment, he said nothing, just stared at you like he was trying to figure out what made you tick. “you’ve got a mouth on you,” he said finally, his voice low and edged with amusement. “i like that.”

you rolled your eyes, reaching for a rag to wipe down the counter. “and you’ve got a way of talking that screams trouble. i’ll pass.”

“trouble, huh?” he chuckled softly, leaning back in his seat. “you make that judgment on your own, or is that what you’ve heard about me?”

you hesitated. his reputation preceded him, of course. rafe cameron, the kook prince with too much money and too much anger. everyone had a story about him, most of them involving fights, drugs, or some poor girl left heartbroken in his wake. but something about the way he was looking at you now—calm, almost bored—didn’t match the chaos you’d heard about.

“a little of both,” you admitted, meeting his gaze again. “does it bother you?”

“not really,” he said with a shrug. “people are gonna think what they want. doesn’t make it true.”

“doesn’t make it false either,” you shot back, unable to help yourself.

that earned you another smirk, sharper this time. “you always this quick with your customers?”

“only the ones who think they’re special,” you said, the words slipping out before you could second-guess them.

his laugh was soft, but almost genuine, and it caught you off guard. “fair enough,” he said, finishing the last of his scotch. he pushed the glass toward you, the faintest hint of a challenge in his eyes. “one more?”

you nodded, grabbing the bottle again. this time, you didn’t feel the same pressure to avoid his gaze. if he wanted to play games, you could play too. as you poured, you said, “you must get this a lot.”

“what’s that?” he asked, tilting his head slightly.

“girls falling over themselves for you,” you said bluntly, setting the glass down in front of him. “the charm, the looks, the whole mysterious bad boy act—it’s a lot.”

“act?” he raised a brow, clearly amused. “you think this is an act?”

“isn’t it?” you countered, crossing your arms. “seems a little rehearsed.”

he leaned forward, the movement subtle but deliberate, and suddenly the air between you felt charged again. “if i wanted to charm you,” he said slowly, his voice dropping an octave, “you’d know.”

the heat of his words settled in your chest, but you refused to let it show. instead, you picked up his empty glass and started wiping it clean. “i’ll take your word for it,” you said evenly, refusing to meet his gaze.

for a moment, neither of you spoke. he watched you in silence, his expression unreadable, and you found yourself wondering what was going through his mind. finally, he stood, pulling a set of keys from his pocket.

“thanks for the drink,” he said, his tone cool and detached again. “maybe i’ll see you around.”

“maybe,” you replied, watching as he turned and walked toward the door. his figure disappeared into the night, leaving behind the faint scent of cologne and a lingering tension you couldn’t quite shake. when you glanced out the window again, the dirt bike was gone, its engine a distant hum in the night. you exhaled, realizing only then how tightly you’d been gripping the rag in your hand. he was trouble, no doubt about it. but for some reason, you couldn’t quite bring yourself to regret the encounter.

the walk home was quiet, unsettlingly so. you’d managed to convince one of your co-workers to cover the rest of your shift, citing the lack of customers as a valid reason, but now, as the empty streets stretched before you, you almost wished you’d stayed. the moonlight pooled on the cracked pavement, illuminating a path that felt both too open and too confining. you held your house keys tightly in one hand, the jagged edges digging into your palm like a makeshift weapon. just in case. you weren’t the type to take chances.

your steps were brisk but measured, careful not to echo too loudly. every shadow seemed alive, every sound amplified. a rustle in the bushes had your heart racing, your grip tightening on the keys. it was probably a cat, you told yourself, though your eyes darted back toward the noise every few seconds, just to be sure. the world felt too quiet, too exposed. you hated this part of the night—the vulnerability of it. it wasn’t paranoia, you told yourself, just caution. but still, your mind raced with every worst-case scenario.

when you finally reached your house, relief washed over you like a wave. the sight of the peeling paint and sagging porch might have been depressing to anyone else, but to you, it meant safety. unlocking the door felt like unlocking a barrier between you and the rest of the world. once inside, you locked it again, flipping the bolt twice just to hear the satisfying click. the air inside was stale, carrying the faint scent of cleaning products and something slightly metallic. it wasn’t much, but it was yours. or at least, it was until the lease ran out.

the place was as minimal as it could get. a mismatched thrift store couch dominated the small living room, its cushions worn and sagging in places. a single bookshelf stood in the corner, half-filled with old paperbacks and a few decorative knick-knacks you’d found at a yard sale. the kitchen, visible from the living room, was clean but bare, its counters free of anything that might be considered a luxury. your future depended on saving, on scrimping wherever you could, and every dollar you didn’t spend brought you one step closer to a life that didn’t feel like you were treading water.

you dropped your bag near the door and kicked off your shoes, the weight of the day settling over you like a blanket. collapsing onto the couch, you reached for the remote and flicked the television on. the screen blinked to life, casting a dim blue glow across the room. you scrolled aimlessly through the channels until the news caught your eye.

“...marking the anniversary of ward cameron’s death,” the reporter announced, her voice measured. the screen cut to a montage of images—ward’s face, the cameron estate. “ward cameron, a prominent figure in the outer banks, left behind a legacy of wealth, corruption, and betrayal. his death, which shocked the island community, continues to be a topic of both fascination and controversy.”

you scoffed, sinking deeper into the couch. “apple, tree,” you muttered under your breath, the words bitter and sharp. it was hard not to think about rafe, his cool demeanor and the air of entitlement that clung to him like a second skin. the spawn of the man had left the world behind with a son who seemed a fistfight away from being institutionalized. it was rich people bullshit, all of it, and it infuriated you. they lived in their gilded cages, creating drama out of thin air while people like you scraped by just to keep the lights on.

the reporter continued, delving into ward’s crimes and the ripple effect they’d had on the community, but you tuned her out. it all felt so distant, so removed from your own reality. people like the camerons didn’t have to worry about overdue bills or walking home alone at night. they sneezed, and the rest of the island lined up to wipe their noses.

you grabbed the thin blanket draped over the back of the couch and pulled it over yourself, letting the reporter’s voice fade into background noise. the couch wasn’t comfortable—not really—but it was familiar. it was where you ended most nights, too tired to drag yourself to the bedroom. the faint hum of the television lulled you into a fragile sense of calm, the weight of the day finally giving way to exhaustion.

as you closed your eyes, the image of rafe’s piercing blue stare flitted across your mind, unbidden and unwelcome. you shoved it away, chalking it up to nothing more than an odd encounter. he was a blip on the radar, a momentary distraction in a life too busy for indulgences like curiosity. with a heavy sigh, you let the hum of the television pull you under, the world slipping away as sleep claimed you.

the next day dawned slow and gray, the kind of morning that felt like a continuation of the night before. you went about your routine with mechanical precision, brushing your teeth in the tiny bathroom with its perpetually fogged mirror and peeling wallpaper. breakfast was quick—toast, black coffee, and a glance at the wilted plant by the window you kept forgetting to water. you were out the door before you had time to feel the weight of the day ahead.

the walk to the bar wasn’t long, but it was enough to remind you why you hated mornings. the streets were quiet, but not in the same way as they were at night. this quiet felt temporary, like the city was holding its breath before the chaos of the day began.

at the bar, you fell into the rhythm of the job almost immediately. wiping down counters, setting up glasses, restocking liquor shelves—it was second nature by now. the hours dragged, each one blending into the next as a slow trickle of customers came and went. a few regulars shuffled in for their early beers, their faces as familiar to you as the scratches on the bar top. you greeted them with polite smiles, but your mind was elsewhere.

you didn’t want to admit it, even to yourself, but you half-expected rafe to show up. every time the door swung open, your eyes darted toward it, only to find someone else stepping inside. the anticipation was irritating, like an itch you couldn’t scratch. you told yourself you didn’t care whether he came back or not, but the lie was too obvious to be convincing.

by nightfall, the bar began to pick up. the low hum of conversation grew louder, mingling with the clink of glasses and the faint strains of a classic rock playlist. you stepped outside for a smoke break, needing a moment away from the noise. the air was cool, carrying the faint scent of salt from the ocean. you leaned against the wall, the cigarette in your hand a small comfort against the monotony of the day.

the sound of a motor rumbled in the distance, growing louder until it filled the air. your eyes flicked toward the source, and there he was, pulling up on his dirt bike like he owned the place. the red and black machine gleamed under the dim streetlights, and for a moment, you just watched as he killed the engine and swung a leg over. he took off his helmet, revealing that same buzzcut and piercing blue eyes that had lingered in your mind longer than you cared to admit. he saw you almost immediately, a smirk curling at the corner of his mouth as he approached.

“you get lost again?” you called out, unable to resist. your tone was teasing, but the sight of him sent an unexpected jolt through you. “figure 8’s on the other side.”

he chuckled, low and amused, the sound like gravel in his throat. “must’ve taken a wrong turn.” his eyes dropped to the cigarette in your hand, and his smirk deepened. “those things’ll kill you, y’know?”

you scoffed, tapping the ash off the end and watching it scatter to the ground. “not fast enough, obviously.”

“let’s hope not,” he replied smoothly, his gaze steady on yours. “not until i get a glass of scotch.”

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the faint tug of a smile. “two nights in a row, it must be good.”

he tilted his head, the smirk on his face turning downright devious. “among other things.”

the way he said it sent a chill down your spine, one you couldn’t quite shake as you turned and headed back inside. you heard his footsteps behind you, steady and unhurried, as though he knew exactly where he belonged.

behind the bar, you reached for the bottle of single malt without needing to ask. he took the same seat as the night before, his movements deliberate and lazy, like he had all the time in the world. you poured the drink and set it in front of him, doing your best to ignore the way his eyes seemed to follow your every move.

“caught the news last night,” you said casually as he pulled out his wallet. “sorry for your loss.”

the change in his expression was instant, the smirk wiped clean in less than a second. his jaw tightened, and his light blue eyes grew cold. “don’t be,” he said flatly. “i’m not.”

you had to resist the urge to roll your eyes at the obvious deflection. “he’s your dad, is he not?” you asked, more curious than you should’ve been.

rafe’s lips twitched, but it wasn’t a smile. “sure, why not?” his tone was stoic, detached, and it made you regret bringing it up. the silence that followed was heavy, thick with something unspoken that you couldn’t quite place.

he sipped his drink, his gaze fixed on the counter as though it held answers to questions you didn’t even know how to ask. to you, it was just another reminder of how different your worlds were. but to him, the weight of that silence carried memories he wouldn’t let surface, not here, not now, not ever.

the bar buzzed around you, but for a moment, the two of you might as well have been the only ones there. you busied yourself with wiping down the counter, giving him the space he clearly needed. whatever his relationship with his father had been, it wasn’t your place to pry. but as you glanced at him, you couldn’t help but wonder—what kind of man grew up in the shadow of someone like ward cameron?

you were midway through rinsing a glass when a new customer slid into the seat beside rafe. the man was tall, blond, and sun-kissed, his skin bearing the unmistakable sheen of someone who spent most of their days by the water. his outfit—a white wifebeater and faded shorts—screamed local. rafe stiffened beside him, his easy demeanor shifting as he leaned back in his seat, jaw tightening. the newcomer leaned forward onto the bar, turning his attention to you.

“excuse me?” his voice cut through the background noise, drawing your focus. you walked over, keeping your expression neutral.

“what can i get you?” you asked casually, pulling a towel off your shoulder and tossing it onto the counter.

the man grinned, clearly enjoying himself as he pretended to think. he was already swaying slightly, the telltale sign of someone who’d started drinking well before stepping through your door.

“well,” he began, dragging the word out like it was some profound thought, “i’d ask for a beer, but it depends.” he paused, his smile growing wider. “does the beer come with a phone number?”

you bit back the urge to roll your eyes, a skill you’d perfected over countless encounters like this. leaning forward, you fixed him with a stare so sharp it could cut glass. “a restraining order, actually,” you replied coolly, your voice devoid of humor.

the man laughed, clearly not deterred. if anything, your response seemed to fuel his bravado. “come on, sweetheart,” he said, tilting his head as though to charm you. “what kind of customer service is that?”

you turned away, doing your best to ignore him as you crouched to grab a beer from the fridge. the cool air brushed your skin, offering a brief reprieve from the heat of the room. you popped the cap off the bottle, your back still turned, oblivious to the way the man leaned back in his seat, his eyes glued to the way your jeans stopped below your waist. what you missed, someone else didn’t.

the first crash was deafening, shattering the rhythm of the bar in an instant. you whipped around, the beer in your hand sloshing slightly as your eyes widened at the scene before you.

the blond man was on the ground, sprawled awkwardly, his face contorted in shock and pain. towering over him was rafe, his knuckles already bloodied from the first blow. the air felt electric, charged with the sheer force of the rage radiating from him. “come on, sweetheart,” rafe sneered, his tone mocking as he delivered another punch. “what kind of manners are those?”

the man barely had time to respond before rafe grabbed him by the front of his tank top, hauling him up like a ragdoll. the look in his eyes was something primal, something feral. “i might just make you my bitch if I don’t kill you first,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous.

the man whimpered, his bravado completely gone, but rafe wasn’t finished. his fist connected again, the sound of impact reverberating through the room.

“rafe, stop!” you shouted, your voice cutting through the chaos. you scrambled out from behind the bar, pushing past the growing crowd of onlookers. it took more than just you to pull him away. one of the other bartenders jumped in, followed by a bouncer, both of them struggling to wrestle rafe back. his chest heaved, his hands still twitching with barely-contained energy as they held him.

you crouched beside the man on the floor, who was clutching his face and groaning. his nose was bleeding, and one eye was already swelling shut. your heart pounded as you turned back to rafe, fury and disbelief written all over your face. “are you trying to get me fired?” you snapped, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and adrenaline.

his gaze shifted to you, his blue eyes dark and unreadable. for a moment, he didn’t respond, his breathing heavy, his hands still shaking as they hung at his sides, blood dripping from his knuckles. “yeah,” he said finally, his voice dripping with venom. “because that’d be such a shame.”

his eyes flicked back to the man on the floor, his lip curling in disgust. you saw it then—the side of rafe cameron everyone warned you about. the man who was a ticking time bomb, always seconds away from detonating.

your manager’s glare burned into you, sharp and unrelenting, but the message clear as day. with a sigh heavy enough to rattle your ribs, you turned back to rafe, still seething where he stood, blood dripping onto the floor like a crimson metronome. “come on,” you muttered, jerking your head toward the back. “let’s fix you up before you make this night even worse.”

rafe followed without protest, his steps heavy and deliberate, the energy of the room shifting as you led him through the door behind the bar. the hallway was dim, illuminated only by the flicker of a fluorescent bulb, the walls lined with scuffed paint and the faint smell of bleach. you shoved open the door to a small office-slash-medical-room hybrid—a cluttered, utilitarian space with a desk shoved against the wall and a first-aid kit hanging by the door.

“sit down,” you snapped, pointing at the worn metal chair in the center of the room. he obliged, sinking into the chair with an infuriating calmness, his long legs sprawled out as if he owned the place. he didn’t say a word, but his gaze tracked you as you rummaged through drawers, the scrape of metal and plastic breaking the silence.

it wasn’t until you turned back with supplies in hand that you noticed it: the black grip of a gun tucked into the waistband of his shorts. “are you kidding me?” you hissed, your eyes narrowing. “you’ve gotta be shitting me. second night here, and you’re ready to get me fired.”

rafe didn’t respond immediately, his eyes drawn to the streaks of moonlight slicing through the cracked blinds. the faint silver light caught the sharp angles of his face, softening them just enough to be dangerous. “i have a permit,” he said finally, his voice low and disinterested, as if that explained everything.

you almost laughed. almost. “put that shit away,” you ordered, gesturing sharply.

he smirked but complied, pulling the weapon free and sliding it into his jacket instead. only rafe cameron could make following directions look like a favor. “unbelievable,” you muttered, stepping closer. “hold still.”

you crouched beside him, your fingers deft as you dabbed antiseptic onto a rag. the smell was sharp, stinging your nose as you pressed it to his knuckles. he didn’t flinch, his stoicism unnerving as you worked to clean away the blood and dirt. his hands were strong, calloused in a way that hinted at a life rougher than the one you’d imagined for someone like him.

“you wanna tell me what the hell that was about?” you asked, your tone cutting.

“he was staring at you,” he said simply, his voice devoid of emotion.

you glanced up, caught off guard by the frankness of his statement. “so what? i deal with creeps like that all the time. doesn’t mean you get to knock their teeth in.”

his lips twitched, the faintest shadow of a smirk. “guess i’m not good at letting things slide.”

“yeah, no kidding,” you shot back, shaking your head. his knuckles were raw and split, the blood pooling in thin lines that you carefully wiped away.

the silence between you stretched, thick and charged, until finally, you leaned back and surveyed your work. his hands were still trembling, though whether from adrenaline or something deeper, you couldn’t tell. “all done,” you said, straightening up. “now, if you’ll excuse me, i’m clocking out before someone else decides to bleed all over my bar.”

rafe stood, towering over you as he adjusted his jacket. “i’ll take you home.”

you blinked, caught off guard by the offer. “my legs work just fine,” you replied, your tone sharper than intended.

he didn’t budge, his gaze steady and unwavering. “i wasn’t asking.”

before you could protest further, he was leading you back to the front, where his bike waited. the night air was cool against your skin, the hum of cicadas filling the silence as he handed you a helmet.

“don’t tell me to hold on tight, because i won’t,” you warned as you climbed on behind him, the words almost daring.

he chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “we’ll see about that.”

the engine roared beneath you, and despite your earlier words, your arms instinctively wrapped around his waist as the bike lurched forward. the wind whipped past you, pulling at your hair as the world blurred into streaks of light and shadow.

by the time he pulled up to your house, your pulse was racing for reasons you refused to examine too closely. you slid off the bike, your legs unsteady as you removed the helmet and handed it back to him.

“thanks for the ride,” you muttered, stepping onto the porch. rafe followed, his gaze sweeping over the small, weathered house you called home. you braced yourself for some snide comment, but he said nothing, his expression unreadable.

“it’s not much,” you admitted, crossing your arms defensively.

“it’s enough,” he said simply, his tone carrying none of the judgment you’d expected.

you looked up at him, the moonlight casting an ethereal glow over his features, highlighting the sharp planes of his cheekbones and the curve of his lips. there was something magnetic about him, something that made your heart stumble even as your mind screamed at you to stay away.

no matter how much your mind screamed at you, you knew you wouldn’t listen. when he kissed you, it wasn’t sweet or gentle. It was rough, insistent, a collision of mouths and unspoken tensions. his hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer as his lips moved against yours, claiming and demanding in a way that left you breathless. it wasn’t romantic. it wasn’t kind. but it was everything you didn’t know you’d been craving.

“we’re so not doing this,” you exhaled with a shaky laugh, breaking the kiss as reality clawed its way back into your mind. your palms flattened against his chest, as though a barrier of mere inches could hold back the tide of whatever this was.

but rafe didn’t flinch. his hands, rough and warm, rested on your bare waist, his thumbs drawing lazy circles on your skin that sent sparks racing through your veins. his gaze, piercing and unrelenting, locked onto yours like a challenge, daring you to contradict him.

“yes, we are,” his eyes seemed to say, the intensity of his stare enough to make you forget the very air around you. “are you scared?” he whispered, the words slipping from his lips like silk. they weren’t a question, not really. they were a taunt, a gauntlet thrown at your feet.

he leaned closer, his breath hot against your ear, sending a shiver rolling down your spine. his nose brushed against the shell of your ear, his lips so close they grazed your neck, and you swore he could feel the way your pulse fluttered beneath your skin.

“i’m not scared of anything,” you shot back, your voice firmer than you felt. defiance burned in your chest, even as the sensation of his mouth barely ghosting over your jaw made your knees weak.

“maybe you should be,” he murmured, his voice low, his tone a promise more than a threat.

the words undid you. they stripped away your composure, your restraint, until nothing remained but the white-hot pull that had been simmering between you all night. your fingers moved before you could stop them, wrapping around the back of his neck, the tips grazing the bare skin there. the contact sent a shiver through him that you felt as much as saw.

and then you were kissing him again, your lips colliding with his in a frenzy of heat and need. there was no hesitation this time, no room for second thoughts or retreat. he tasted like scotch and rebellion, smelled like leather and something darker, something dangerous. you weren’t scared, but you should have been. everyone was scared of the devil.

his hand found the small of your back, his touch searing through the fabric of your shirt as he pushed you backward, through the open door to your house. your legs gave out slightly, the doorframe digging into your spine as you kissed him harder. rafe’s other hand roamed up your side, his fingertips tracing the line of your waist, up to your chest, cupping one of your tits through the fabric. your breath hitched, your eyes fluttering shut as he squeezed gently.

“you must do this a lot,” you half-joked as his lips find their way back to your neck, wet and sloppy as they travel down to your collarbone. he grunts against your skin, “could say the same about you,” he retorts. the room spun around you as he backed you further into the house, his hands never leaving your body, his mouth never leaving your neck. you felt the wall behind you, your body trapped between the hardness of the wall and the hardness of, well, him.

his hand slid around your thigh, diving under the fabric of your jeans, fingertips grazing the wetness of your panties. your hips bucked slightly at the touch, betraying your own eagerness. “haven’t been fucked in a while, have you?” he murmured, his voice a dark promise. “what’s the matter, baby? did i turn you on?” you wanted to defy him more than anything, but you were powerless to resist.

instead, you fought fire with fire, raising your knee enough to press it against the center of his shorts. no matter how tough your bones were, they did little to prepare you for just how hard and heavy he felt, throbbing under the thick material of his shorts. “you’ve got it worse than i do,” you do your best to retort, but it’s not easy, not with his fingers rubbing sweet circles against the damp spot of your panties, drawing out every whimper he can from you.

“ease my pain, why don't you?” he murmurs softly. you watched him through hooded eyes as he crouched down, his fingers tugging down your jeans until they're pooling around your ankles. you complied, raising your feet to rid yourself of the blockage. when you did, he took a moment to admire you—pressed against the wall of your own home, standing in nothing but a skimpy top, panties soaked, and a pair of heels he didn’t plan on letting you take off.

when you tried to, he was quick to stop you. “heels on,” his voice was coated in authority, and you’re quick to pull back. “everything else, off.”

“bossy, aren’t you?” you couldnt help but ask him, but it only encouraged him. you watched as he leveled the playing field, peeling his own shirt off, leaving him in nothing but his shorts. he seemed skinny, thanks to his height, but you had clearly been deceived. he was toned, everything about him was toned in just the right places.

your eyes trailed down to the metal tucked in his shorts, and you allowed yourself to pull the weapon out, holding it in front of him. “really?” you couldn’t help but ask. he offered a smile amd a shrug, unable to protest as you sat the gun on the table beside him. better safe than sorry.

you couldn’t help but trail a hand down his chest, your feather-light touch sending shivers down his spine as you traced every muscle and crevice from his collarbone to his hips. youd never admit it out loud, but he was incredible. “see something you like?” he teased, attaching his lips to your neck a final time as his fingers tugged at your shirt, eager to get it out of the way. you whimpered at the feeling, the way he’d bite down enough to make you wince, but run his tongue over the surface a second later. “don’t flatter yourself,” you managed to say.

but he had every intention of doing so. he allowed your shirt to fall to the floor as his lips travelled south, making their way down your collarbone and over your clothed tits. you tilted your head back, fingers instinctively pulling him in closer by the back of his neck, drawing him in further between your tits. he unclasped your bra with ease, giving you the impression he had definitely done this plenty of times, but you were too desperate to care. “should’ve just told me you wanted it rough,” he said, and you swore you could feel his smirk against your skin.

his hand slid down to cup your ass, his fingertips ghosting over the lace of your panties. with a sharp tug, he pulled them aside, revealing the sticky mess that had been hidden beneath. “dripping all over my fingers, huh?” he murmured, his voice low enough to send a tremor through you. his finger slid through the slickness, teasing your entrance before pressing inside. you moaned, your legs shaking, your hips thrusting back against him. “fuck, rafe, too much,” and you wished you were exaggerating. his fingers were thin, slender, hitting all the right spots like they had them mapped out.

his eyes searched yours as he began to pump his finger in and out of you, his strokes measured and deliberate. “not enough, never enough,” he countered, his tone almost mocking. you whined, desperate for more. he smirked, adding a second finger, his thumb finding your clit and circling it with just enough pressure to make your knees buckle. you leaned into the wall, using it for support as his digits worked their magic. you were dripping all over his fingers, wetting them from the tips to his knuckles.

when he pulled them out, it almost felt cruel, a long whine drawn out of you as the feeling of emptiness replaced fulfillment. “so fucking needy, jesus, shit,” he groaned, taking a second to admire how glossy his fingers were, how hard the sight of your arousal had him. “just a second, i promise.” you nodded, watching as he brought his shorts down, leaving him in his boxers, but only for a second. it was enough for you to catch the trailer, to see what awaited you.

when his boxers followed, you really wished for another minute to process the sight. his cock flopped against his abs, twitching. his tip was stained an angry red, beads of pre-cum trailing down the underside of his cock, following a prominent vein before collecting under his balls. “stroke my ego, just like that,” you heard him say, but you didn’t care. you needed him.

his hand wrapped around his shaft, stroking it slowly, teasingly. “you like watching, don’t you?” you nodded, your eyes glued to his hand as it glided up and down. “good,” he murmured, his eyes darkening. “i’ll put on a fucking show for you.”

he stepped closer, pressing the tip of his cock against your clit, hard and ready to split your folds open. you could feel the heat, the urgency, and the promise of what was to come. he leaned in, his breath hot on your face. “gonna take this dick like a fuckin’ champ.”

your cheeks burned with a mix of embarrassment and desire, his words hitting you in the core of your being. you didn’t know why, but you craved his dirty talk, his filthy mouth whispering bittersweet nothings that turned you into a trembling mess. “yes, please, fuck me,” you breathed, your voice a shaky whisper that seemed to echo through the room.

rafe smirked, his hand still working his cock. “that’s my girl,” he said, and the term of endearment had your stomach doing somersaults. his eyes never left yours, not even as he pushed his cock past your folds, eyes glued to the way your jaw dropped, your eyes rolling into the back of your head at the sensation of his bare tip splitting you open.

you were soaked, the sound of his skin slapping against yours obscene, filling the room as he picked up his pace. he leaned in, his teeth capturing yours in a brutal kiss that had you moaning into his mouth. your nails scratched at his back, leaving deep red grooves that you knew would scar. his hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as he thrust into you, his strokes deep and unrelenting. “fuck, shit, pussy’s squeezing my cock,” he groaned through the kiss, breathless.

the room spun around you, the sensation of his bare length inside you, the feeling of his teeth on your lip, his tongue in your mouth—it was all too much. your body felt like it was on fire, every nerve ending a live wire ready to spark and explode. “yes, yes, fuck, yes,” you chanted, your voice a desperate mantra that matched the rhythm of his hips.

his hands slid to your throat, thumbs pressing against the pulse that beat frantically. you gasped, the sudden pressure a jolt of electricity that shot straight to your core. his grip tightened, not enough to cut off air, but enough to make you aware of your vulnerability. “you like it rough, don’t you?” he whispered, his voice a dark caress in your ear. you didnt even have to answer, the feeling of your cunt clenching around him told him everything he needed to know.

his hand slid down to grip your neck, his fingers tightening as he slammed into you, the sound of skin slapping skin echoing off the walls. “you want it harder?” he growled, his teeth grazing your earlobe. you nodded, your breath coming in ragged gasps. you weren’t sure how much harder it could get—with him pounding your pussy, you could feel the way he throbbed, pulsing deep inside of you, but you had to expect the unexpected from him. the unexpected came as he leaned back, hand wrapping around the barrel of his gun. your eyes widened, but you were in no position to resist—you didn’t even want to.

there was something dangerous in his eyes, something you had only seen once, just a few hours earlier at the bar, but it drew you in more than you wanted it to. his pace never faltered, his hips slamming against your flesh as one hand held your leg up high, the sight of your cunt swallowing him whole only adding fuel to the fire. his other hand held the gun, finger to the trigger, as he pressed it to your temple.

“tell me you’re scared,” he murmured, gripping your thigh in a way that told you to expect a bruise or two. the cold metal of the gun you knew had to have been loaded dug into your skin, his fingers locked around the trigger.

“scared,” you barely managed to whisper, tits shaking with every forceful thrust. “i’m scared, rafe,” but your words were like music to his ears, the clenching of your cunt a sign that you were just as horny as you were scared.

he threw his head back, pushing your leg up even farther, enough for it to sting deliciously as he rammed into you, the head of his cock bruising the entirety of your pussy. “you should be,” he hissed, sweat dripping down his chest. he lowered the gun, giving you a temporary feeling of relief, one that didnt last long. he brought it closer to you, tapping your bottom lip with the muzzle. “didn’t i tell you?”

your eyes widened at the sight of the weapon so close to you, his fingers never leaving the trigger, but you knew your best option was to oblige. your lips parted, and he was quick to push it into your mouth. he groaned at the sight, watching your swollen lips wrap around the barrel enough to send him over the edge. “doin’ everything i tell you to, fuck, you’re so good.”

you felt the metal of the gun slide along your tongue, his hips moving with the rhythm of your mouth. you didn’t dare bite down, not with how close he was to climax. his hand tightened around your throat, his other hand keeping the gun in your mouth as he fucked you harder, his strokes becoming erratic. “you’re gonna take it all, baby. all of me. every single drop,” he promised, and the thought of his hot, sticky cum filling your mouth had your pussy tightening around his cock.

you felt your orgasm approaching, the tension in your body coiling like a tight spring ready to snap. you moaned around the gun, the vibrations of the sound traveling up the barrel and into your mouth. rafe’s eyes glazed over, his movements becoming sloppy with lust. “yeah, just like that,” he whispered, his thumb pressing into your neck, cutting off just enough air to make your world spin.

the gun slipped from your mouth with a wet pop, and you gasped for air, your chest heaving as his grip around your neck loosened slightly. his eyes snapped to yours, searching, hungry, as he pulled out of you, his cock glistening with your wetness. before you could protest, he turned you around, pressing you into the wall. his hand found your throat again, squeezing as his cock nudged at your entrance from behind.

the fear and arousal had started mixing in a heady cocktail that had you on the edge of oblivion. with a smirk, he slammed into you, his bare skin slapping against yours in a way that was almost painful. your eyes rolled back as he fucked you mercilessly, his hand around your neck keeping you in place, his other hand pressing against your stomach to keep you steady.

his thumb brushed against your clit, the sensation making you moan, your knees buckling slightly. he chuckled darkly, the sound sending a thrill through your body. “such a sweet thing,” he said, his voice deep and guttural. “letting me fill this sweet pussy up.” you could only moan, unable to do anything but submit to his will. the pressure built inside of you, a crescendo that was only heightened by the way he choked you, the way his cock hit just the right spot deep inside of you.

his strokes grew more erratic, his breathing becoming ragged. “yes, yes, fuck, cum for me, cum all over this cock,” he demanded, his voice a mix of pleasure and command. and like a good little slut, you did. your orgasm hit you like a freight train, your body shaking and convulsing around his cock, your cunt pulsing with every beat of your heart.

his grip on your neck tightened, his thrusts becoming even more punishing as you came. your nails scraped against the wall, leaving marks that would surely be there when the sun came up. you could feel your eyes water, your vision swimming with the pressure he applied, but it only added to the intense pleasure that flooded your body. “fuck, yes, take it, take it all,” he groaned, his hips jerking as he emptied himself inside of you. his cum filled you, hot and thick, and you felt the stickiness of it trickle down your legs. he leaned into you, his body pressing you into the wall, his breathing harsh and heavy in your ear. for a moment, you felt it all, right before youe vision betrayed you.

the morning greeted you with the kind of disorientation that made reality feel like a cruel trick. your head throbbed, and your body ached as if every muscle in you had given up the fight. blinking against the sunlight streaming in through the window, you became acutely aware of the rough texture of the couch beneath you. the blanket draped over you was haphazard, your clothes were gone, and a sickening weight settled in your stomach.

it didn’t take long for the memories to come flooding back: rafe’s hands on your skin, his lips on yours, the way he’d devoured you as if you were the only thing keeping him alive. and now? nothing. the couch was empty, and the only remnants of him were the bruises on your neck and the dull ache between your thighs.

you exhaled shakily, pressing your palms against your face. what had you expected? a note? breakfast? rafe cameron wasn’t the kind of man who stayed. he took what he wanted, and you’d been foolish enough to give it to him.

the guilt settled like a weight on your chest as you forced yourself to your feet, rummaging for clothes. the shame was suffocating, curling around you as you dressed in silence. by the time you stepped out of your house, the sun was high, and the day was already slipping away.

at work, the tension was evident. your manager’s icy glare followed you as you prepped for the event that night. “last night was your first strike,” he said coldly, and you knew there was no room for argument. you nodded silently, biting back the urge to snap. the day dragged on, and despite the busy prep work, rafe never appeared.

by the time the sun dipped below the horizon, the event was in full swing. the bar was packed, music pumping through the speakers, and you were moving through the crowd like clockwork. but you couldn’t stop the gnawing feeling in your chest, the anticipation every time the door swung open. he still wasn’t there.

frustrated, you stepped outside for a smoke, seeking solace in the familiar burn of nicotine. the beach in the distance was scattered with people, laughter and music drifting on the wind. that’s when you saw him. rafe was leaning against the hood of his bike, his head tilted as a girl’s hands tangled in his hair. her lips moved feverishly against his, her body pressed against his in a way that made your stomach twist.

“it’s not that serious,” you muttered to yourself, exhaling a shaky breath. but it didn’t stop the sting, the ache that settled deep in your chest. you extinguished the cigarette against the wall and went back inside, needing something—anything—to dull the edges of your emotions.

the first drink went down easy. the second burned, but you welcomed it. you poured yourself a third before a light tap on your shoulder startled you. “excuse me,” a voice said, nervous and unsure.

you turned, offering a faint smile to the tall, sunkissed guy standing behind you. “are you on your break?” he asked hesitantly.

you shook your head, setting your glass down. “it’s okay. i could use the distraction. what’re you having?”

he slid onto the stool, rubbing the back of his neck. “a mai tai would be alright.”

nodding, you set to work, your movements automatic. you slid the drink across the counter, noting the way he fidgeted with his fingers. “busy night,” he said, trying to make conversation.

“yeah, i guess,” you replied.

he shrugged, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “came with a friend, but he’s with a girl right now.”

you sat beside him, crossing your arms. “sorry to hear that.”

“it’s fine,” he said, taking a sip of his drink. “i’m topper, by the way.”

before you could respond, a familiar presence loomed beside you. you turned slowly, your stomach sinking when your eyes landed on him. “this the friend you were talking about?” you asked topper, though your gaze stayed fixed on rafe.

“yeah,” topper said, oblivious to the tension. “you two know each other?”

rafe opened his mouth, but you were quicker. “no,” you said firmly. “no idea.”

rafe’s expression was unreadable, but you didn’t care. you spent the rest of the night ignoring him, focusing on anything but the way his eyes bore into you. when your shift finally ended, you clocked out and stepped outside, only to find him waiting.

“what do you want?” you snapped, already exhausted.

“what’s wrong?” he asked, his tone laced with faux concern.

“fuck off, rafe.”

he grabbed your arm, spinning you around to face him. “is this about sofia?” he asked, realization dawning on his face.

“so she has a name,” you said bitterly, yanking your arm free.

“get over yourself,” he called after you. “you should’ve known it was casual.” his words hit like a slap, but you didn’t look back. you couldn’t.

the next few days were a blur of muted colors and sharp-edged feelings that refused to dull. you didn’t go to work; the thought of stepping back into that bar, facing the memories etched into its walls, was unbearable. instead, you sought solace in the one place that had always calmed you—the beach.

the sand felt cold beneath your feet, even in the mid-morning sun. the rhythmic crashing of the waves usually soothed you, their endless cadence like a lullaby for your restless mind. but today, they felt distant, like a song you no longer knew the words to.

you sat by the shoreline, knees hugged to your chest as the salty breeze tangled in your hair. there was no anger, no fire—just an aching hollowness that stretched out inside you. mourning someone who was never really yours wasn’t a dramatic storm; it was a slow erosion, like the tide pulling pieces of you away until you were left unrecognizable.

you replayed every moment with him in your mind, dissecting every look, every word, searching for signs of something deeper, something real. but the truth was glaringly simple: rafe cameron wasn’t yours. he was never meant to be.

as the day slipped into evening, the sun sinking low on the horizon, you wandered aimlessly along the beach. the golden light painted the world in soft hues, but it couldn’t reach you. the weight of your thoughts dragged you back to the sand, and you sat again, staring at the endless expanse of water, feeling as though it mirrored the vast emptiness inside you.

you didn’t notice the presence beside you at first. the silence had become your companion, so when the soft crunch of sand gave way to stillness, you barely registered it. but then you turned your head, and there he was. he didn’t look at you. his gaze, like yours, was fixed on the water. the sharp angles of his face were softened in the twilight, but the tension in his jaw betrayed him. he said nothing at first, and neither did you. words felt too heavy, too complicated for the fragile stillness between you.

“my dad had a choice to make before he died,” he said finally, his voice low and rough, as though dragged over gravel.

you didn’t turn to him, didn’t acknowledge his words beyond the faintest flicker of your lashes.

“he told me he had to choose between me and my sister,” he continued, his tone clipped, detached. “he told me it’d always be her.”

the confession hung in the air, heavy and raw, but you stayed quiet, your eyes locked on the waves that seemed to stretch forever. “the first night i came into the bar,” he said after a pause, “it was the anniversary of ward’s death.”

your throat tightened, but you remained silent, letting him unravel the threads of himself piece by piece.

“i bent over backward for him, y’know?” his voice cracked, but he recovered quickly, masking the vulnerability with bitterness. “did some things i wasn’t proud of for him, but none of it mattered.”

his laugh was low and bitter, barely more than an exhale. “so forgive me if i’m a little hesitant to let you in.”

there was a challenge in his words, a dare for you to contradict him. but you didn’t. you stared at the water, your voice soft when you finally spoke. “i’m not him, rafe.”

he nodded slowly, the movement barely perceptible out of the corner of your eye. “yeah,” he said, his tone heavy with resignation. “but most of them are.”

you could feel his eyes on you, searching for something—what, you weren’t sure.

“i told him once that I knew something was wrong with me,” he continued, his voice quieter now, almost distant. “but he told me to keep it quiet. that’s how much he cared.”

the silence that followed was suffocating, filled with all the things neither of you could say. the ocean stretched endlessly before you, its waves crashing softly against the shore as if mocking the turmoil inside you.

“i’m sorry,” you said finally, your voice barely audible over the sound of the water.

“for what?” he asked, his tone edged with disbelief.

“for what he did to you.” he didn’t respond, and you didn’t push him. The two of you sat there, side by side, two broken pieces that didn’t quite fit together but couldn’t seem to pull apart.

tears pricked at your eyes, hot and unwelcome, and you blinked furiously, determined not to let them fall. but it was no use. the weight of everything—the loss, the pain, the hopelessness—was too much. a single tear slid down your cheek, then another, until they were falling freely, carving silent trails down your face. you didn’t wipe them away, didn’t hide them. what was the point?

you felt him move before you saw him, his arms wrapping around you from behind. his chin rested lightly on your shoulder, and his grip was firm, possessive. for a moment, you let yourself lean into him, the warmth of his body a cruel comfort against the chill of the night.

but even as he held you, even as your tears soaked into his shirt, you knew the truth. you would worship something that has destruction in its blood, blind and desperate, chasing something you could never truly have. rafe cameron was the kind of man who would burn you to the ground and then light another match just to watch you smolder. and yet, there you were, willingly stepping into the flames.

you stared out at the ocean, its vastness swallowing you whole, and you knew you were lost, eyes dilated as you watched the clouds float. you would practice the worst religion of them all, praying for something you knew you’d never have.

⋆. 𐙚 ˚

#obx #outer banks #rafe cameron #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x reader smut #rafe smut #rafe angst #rafe x reader smut #rafe fanfiction #north carolina

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notthewriteryourelookingfor · 3 hours ago

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Hi, I am a fat woman, I grew up in the late 90s/early 2000s when there was so much pressure to be thin & eating disorders were encouraged & even "cool" and "fun" & because of that i often struggle with my self esteem/self image/weight & may easily develop an eating disorder if I let my brain go that way (unless I already have one in which case 🙃): I am here to give you all permission to be fat and/or curvy.

It doesn't matter about your gender, it doesn't matter about how you feel your gender should be portrayed, it's about your physical and mental well-being and how you feel sitting in your own body.

Everyone's body is different and everyone's body will react differently to different things. And on top of that, it's all genetics. My mums family is very wide, my dads family is very tall, you know what that means for me? I'm a tall, wide woman, I probably couldn't go under a size 12 even if I starved myself to a skeleton because my skeleton itself is wide.

Look at your parents, talk to them if you can, and see what their bodies are like cuz you have like half their genes. That doesn't mean you will be 100% or even 50% the same as them, DNA is a lottery.

Trans women: it doesn't matter if you carry all your weight in your lower half or top or you're as flat as a board - you're valid and I love you. Fashion brands just hate women and don't want us to be happy in our bodies so they don't make clothes that fit larger sizes well. I know it's annoying but if you can take up just tailoring your clothes so you get something that fits your largest section & make the rest a lil smaller I promise you're gonna look incredible no matter what size.

Trans men: the same goes for you. It doesn't matter if you have massive tits and an ass to match or you're flat as a board. People who say men have to be buff are wrong. So many actors that I've been obsessed with have a variety of body types. If you don't know this actor, look up Con Oniel, he is the current dilf of my fandom circle & he's often fat. And hairy. And I want to bite him. Your gender is what you make of it.

Non-binary people: I can only say this as an agender person (bigender - agender & woman) so this counts for agender people as well: your gender presentation is what you want it to be. You could look like Santa or Barbie or Superman or a Disney Princess or a wrestler, you're still nonbinary & 100% valid. Just because people can't understand that there isn't 1 way to be anything, doesn't mean they're right.

Food and weight issues are so hard to get rid of. I'm 29 & I still have this voice in the back of my mind bullying me for my weight & trying to get me to starve myself & work out until I break myself & no matter what I do I literally cannot get it out.

I know it's a struggle and I want you to know that I love you, that it doesn't matter what you look like, your gender identity is 100% real and valid because it's Your Gender Identity.

Things are going to be hard.

Don't let people who are trying to sell you laxative teas or fake diets or things that will harm you take your hard earned money.

Don't follow fad diet people on social media, don't let yourself go down the rabbit hole of harmful diets or like 1,000 calorie days.

The internet (& real life) is full of people who want to make money off you're insecurities and I give you permission to tell them to get fucked.

Eat healthy, yes, but also don't feel bad for treating yourself. Yes it's good to move your body but it doesn't matter if it's just going for a walk, or doing something like swimming or roller derby or rock climbing. Or even just doing some stretches or yoga in your home.

Look after yourselves and your bodies and remember that theres no 1 way to do things: Health, gender, everything else.

You are unique and your body is unique and will need different things to other people. Listen to your body not the bathroom scale.

I have a research background in weight stigma and I currently work in mental health, often with LGBTQ+ clients.

I've met nonbinary people who struggle with disordered eating because they only ever see androgyny depicted as featureless thinness.

I've met trans women who struggle with disordered eating because they've internalized the idea that girls are meant to be thin, dainty, and delicate.

I've men trans men who struggle with disordered eating, because they feel women are allowed to be soft/curvy but men need to be muscular or thin and flat.

So many trans people are convinced that weight loss is the key to appearing as their desired gender, even when they want radically different gender presentations.

The societal idealization of thinness and fatphobia falsely invades and derails people's idea of what their "ideal body" should look like.

#i love u #i know its probs easy for me to sit here and say all this #but believe me when i sat that i get it & i believe in yo

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kimoralov3 · 1 day ago

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lay all your love on me 24

jj maybank x heyward!reader

<- previous next ->

"y/n come on, we're gonna be late if we keep waiting on you!" pope calls from outside your door. you roll your eyes at that, putting on one more swipe of mascara.

"stop rushing me! i just need like two more seconds!" you call back as you apply your lip liner and lip gloss. you give yourself a final once over, making sure you look decent before grabbing your sandals and sliding them on as you hobble over to the door.

when you open it pope is still standing there, arms crossed over his chest as he shakes his head. you stick your tongue out at him before taking the steps two at a time to meet everyone else outside in front of the twinkie. sarah wasn't feeling well today, so it'd just be you, pope, jj, cleo, kie, and her girlfriend lex going to the party at the boneyard today. sarah and john b were sitting on the front porch when you got out there, so you stopped to talk to them.

"hey guys. are you two sure you don't want me to stay home? i wouldn't really mind." you ask as you stand in front of them. sarah waves a dismissive hand at that.

"yes yes, we're sure. besides, you have more important things to worry about." she says as she and john b wiggle their eyebrows at you. sarah was pregnant so you couldn't exactly hit her, but you sure as hell did give john b a good punch in the shoulder before walking away.

ever since you and jj had fallen asleep together outside, the pogues would not leave the two of you alone. i mean, it's not like it meant anything. just friends helping each other out. friends who had been doing a lot of... hanging out lately. the kind of hang outs that felt like dates. but they weren't! jj was just trying to make up for being an ass. in a very rom-com way. but still! the two of you were just friends. much to your dismay.

you all had been at the boneyard for about 3 hours now, and it was really starting to crank up. not that you could really focus on that, though, because you had spent basically the whole time running and hiding from jj.

"y/n, would it really be that bad to talk to him?" aubree asks as rafe comes back with her drink. rafe immediately wraps an arm around her, and you get the sense that that should make you upset or something but it doesn't. you've both moved on for the better.

"obviously. don't wanna embarrass myself. besides, he seems a little... preoccupied at the moment." you say as you tilt your cup in his direction. he's currently talking to some girl that went to school with you guys- her name was like, ashley or something? doesn't really matter, what matters is the fact that she has jj's full attention and not you.

"aww, are you jealous because he's talking to other girls?" kiara asks teasingly, causing lex to elbow her in her side.

"i am not jealous. if he wants to talk to other girls, he's very free to. it's not like we're dating or anything." you say as you take a sip of the beer you'd been nursing since you got there.

"but you want to be." rafe says. it's a statement and not a question, which makes you even more frustrated with all your friends. why couldn't they just butt out of your love life?

"i'm leaving." you say, walking away quickly before any of them could poke fun at you again. as you're walking towards the water you hear someone calling your name, and you turn to see jj jogging towards you. just what you needed, great.

"hey, y/n! haven't really spoken with you since we got here." he says once he catches up with you. you force a smile on your face as you try and come up with a response.

"yeah, sorry about that. to be honest, i'm not really in the partying mood tonight." you say with a shrug. "i'll probably head home soon, anyways."

"you're gonna walk all the way back home by yourself?" he asks as he shoves his hands in his pockets. it's a nervous habit of his that you've always found cute, but you can't help but wonder what could possibly be making him nervous at the moment.

"yeah. don't wanna ruin the fun for everyone else." you say with a light chuckle as you kick up some sand.

"i'll walk with you." he says as if it's the easiest decision he's ever made.

"what? no, jj. you stay, i'll be fine." you say quickly. "you love parties."

"yeah, but i'm not really feeling this one. 's kinda lame." he says with that boyish smile of his. god, he's making this really difficult.

"alright, fine. if you insist." you say as you toss your empty cup somewhere. (sorry kie!)

"lead the way, m'lady." he says as he tips an invisible hat at you. you roll your eyes, shoving him gently. he just laughs, seeing as your little push didn't do much in the way of moving him.

the walk back home is pretty much silent, save for the late night sounds of the town. you almost wish that it could be like this forever, the two of you just enjoying each other's company. but there's this thing that keeps floating around in your head, and no matter how hard you try you just can't seem to rid yourself of it.

"so, i saw you talking to ashley earlier." you say so quietly that jj didn't hear you. "the two of you looked pretty cozy."

that causes jj to stop walking, looking at you as if you had grown three extra heads. "huh?"

"you and ashley. the two of you were talking at the party. are you into her? it's totally cool if you are. i mean yeah, she was kind of a bitch to us in high school but i'm sure she's changed-"

"and they call me the oblivious one." he says with a chuckle. he was looking around as if he thought he was being pranked.

now it was your turn to be confused. "what?"

jj looks at you for a moment, almost as if he was studying you. "y/n, do you honestly think i'm interested in any other girl besides you?"

had you drank more beer than you thought? was it actually beer in your cup, or had you been drinking something else the whole time? because that was the only logical explanation for what you thought you just heard. "huh?"

jj smirks, taking a step closer to you and using his finger to push your chin up. "close your mouth, mama. wouldn't want bugs getting in there would we?"

you couldn't believe it. had jj really said what you thought he said? "i'm sorry, could you repeat that please?"

"i'm in love with you, y/n. have been for a while now. and i know that i acted like a total fucking asshole about the whole rafe situation, and there will never be enough time or enough words for me to properly apologize for that, but i want to be with you. genuinely. in fact, i don't think i've ever been so serious about something the way i'm serious about you." he says as he gently takes your hand in his.

"b-but, you were talking with ashley and it looked like-"

"i was talking with ashley because i was buying something from her. something for you." he explains as he reaches in his back pocket and pulls out a braided bracelet. he slides it onto your arm, making sure it's secure before removing his hands so you can get a proper look at it. it was fairly simple; peachy colored thread holding up a bead with the letter j on it. "i was gonna give it to you when i asked you to be my girlfriend."

"i don't know what to say." you whisper, still in awe. you hear jj laugh at that, and when you look up he bring a hand up to cup your cheek.

"just say yes, y/n. say you'll be my girlfriend." he whispers as he brushes his thumb across your cheek.

"yes, jj. i would love to be your girlfriend." you say with a smile. the biggest smile you'd ever seen broke out across jj's face, so big you're surprised his face didn't split in half. he brings his other hand to the other side of your face and pulls you in for a kiss. it's a lot more gentle than you would've expected from someone like jj, but you wouldn't have it any other way. his lips were soft, almost cloud like and he tasted like cheap beer and his favorite spearmint flavored gum.

you honestly couldn't tell how long the two of you kissed for, but you didn't want it to ever end. unfortunately the two of you needed to come up for air and when you did, jj pressed his forehead against yours.

"i love you too, jj." you say, pressing a small kiss to the tip of jj's nose. he smiled again, but this time it was charged with something else, something you couldn't quite put your finger on. but if you had to guess, it was somewhere between love and admiration.

"good. now let's get you home." he says as he grabs your hand, lacing your fingers together as the of you finish the walk back home.

taglist: @arkofblake @ivysprophecy @murdockcastleslut @queenvane64 @yoongling @cassiewritessalot @iloveeejjjj @divierses @dreamybabbyy @freyawhitexxx1 @sheisntyou @212-apricity @beeskisses

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x you #jj maybank x black!reader #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank fic #jj maybank smau #jj maybank series #kimoralov3

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bumblingbabooshka · 2 days ago

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Thinking about marriage/women's rights on Vulcan Some may think that T'Pring not being allowed to divorce Spock was because he was going through the pon farr but if she were allowed to divorce him at all she probably would have done that a long time ago, confirmed by T'Pol when she's speaking with Koss, who isn't suffering from the pon farr. She says that he can choose another mate (without invoking a fight it seems: note the difference between a 'mate' and a 'challenger') and after he makes it clear that nothing she says will change his mind about marrying her, she finally threatens to declare a kal-if-fee. It's clear that Vulcan women cannot divorce/refuse to marry a man they've been betrothed to under any circumstances if A) He himself doesn't consent to ending their marriage or B) She doesn't have someone else waiting in the wings to be given to in his stead. Though, if the challenger she selects fails to win the fight, she'll have to marry her betrothed anyway unless (again) he decides he doesn't want her after the challenge. That seems like an incredibly unfair system, heavily biased towards men. SNW is an alternate universe in many obvious respects but most egregiously in that T'Pring has a lot of non-canonical agency over her relationship with Spock. It's interesting to me that Vulcan society has women in many positions of power and treats women as equal to men from what I've seen despite these laws. We don't really see Vulcans exhibiting a misogynistic attitude towards women in general but in TOS (perhaps because of its general writing style but it's still interesting to note) both Sarek and Spock take on patriarchal attitudes specifically regarding wives. Amanda says that 'of course' Sarek commands her because "he is a Vulcan and I am his wife." It's worthwhile in my eyes to note that she specifies 'wife' instead of attributing this attitude to women as a whole. Again, with TOS' writing style it wouldn't be out of place for her to say "he is a man and I am a woman." Spock, while in a pon farr induced irritation, states that it's "undignified for a woman to play servant to a man that isn't hers" - again implying that there's something specific about being a Wife in Vulcan society which is different from being a woman in general and demands subservience to a husband. This could perhaps stem from the extreme sense of ownership that Vulcan law has permitted men to have over women. A woman legally cannot point blank refuse marriage. There is no option which guarantees she won't have to marry her betrothed other than death. When T'Pau speaks of T'Pring she refers to her as being 'property' and Stonn, before being interrupted, states he's made 'the ancient claim' - we don't know what this is because he gets cut off but it's obvious they're both using the language of Vulcan law. Men are permitted true freedom to choose. If a woman wants to choose someone else to be with there is no option available to her other than the kal-if-fee which might result in the death of the one she wants to be with. And, if her lover fails, her husband can still just decide he wants to marry her and she'll be forced to. T'Pring gives two scenarios: One where Spock 'frees' her and one where he doesn't - it's still ultimately his decision which is clear when he ends the conversation with "Stonn, she is yours." This again isn't just because of the pon farr as T'Pol also goes through this. Koss can choose another mate and when the option is talked about there's no implication that this would result in any sort of fight (both by the casualness of its mention and by the fact that there's no formal word for it unlike the kal-if-fee.) Also, the fact that Koss does eventually grant T'Pol a divorce and it's all fine means that T'Pol isn't lawfully required to have another man waiting if her HUSBAND doesn't want her. It's ONLY required if SHE doesn't want her husband. Tradition must take precedence over individual desire UNLESS!!! You're a man. Then it's fine. Like, your parents might not be happy but legally you're golden.

#as a note do NOT read the comments on any T'Pol marriage clips on youtube they're full of 'haha women amiright' jokes about #how she's leading Trip on and being a bitch for not choosing him etc - if you become interested in female characters you learn #quickly just how much people still hate women displaying any amount of complexity/doing anything that isn't just falling into a man's arms #even if that hatred doesn't take the form of outright vitriol (aka: 'I feel so sad for Trip bc T'Pol's marrying some other guy')#Trip: T'Pol listen this arranged marriage stuff is no good - you've gotta be free! You have to do what YOU want to do!#T'Pol: -legally seen as property of her husband in the eyes of the law- ...............#<- not dunking on Trip it's just funny how easy it makes it seem - but!! He doesn't know all the facts #as evidenced by him saying T'Pol might 'call off the wedding' to her mother - T'Pol can't legally call off shit #It's also interesting how gender isn't really mentioned in any of the clips I've seen - it's very clear to me that T'Pol has no options #specifically because she's a WOMAN within her culture but that's almost like a quiet undercurrent and not focused on as a main #point of dissatisfaction - which I imagine it 1000% would be for Vulcan women when men have infinitely more freedom #Vulcan Man: I don't wanna marry this lady #Vulcan Law: Ok #Vulcan Woman: I don't wanna marry this guy #Vulcan Law: Noted. So - if you and your lover are willing to risk his life there's a chance (if he wins) that you can get out of marrying #him BUT if your husband kills your lover and still wants to marry you you DOOO have to marry him sorry you just gotta #<- this also makes it incredibly dangerous to in any way warn your legal husband that a kal-if-fee might be incoming #the element of surprise is a HUGE advantage when it comes to winning a fight to the death (which your lover can train for)#Vulcans #T'Pol #T'Pring #star trek #I don't think this is bad necessarily (as a fictional worldbuilding thing) but I wish it were explored more #It's especially interesting because it's an aspect of logical Vulcan society - it's clearly not logical but it's also clearly rooted deeply #in tradition which may mean Vulcan long ago used to have a much more extreme gender bias towards the male population #it just implies a lot that Vulcan has these old laws which are unfair towards women yet they still follow BUT women are treated as equal #citizens OUTSIDE of marriage! Maybe there was a feminist movement before? Is there another brewing? Where are the Vulcan feminists!

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sparks-and-smoke · 2 days ago

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Would it be possible to get a fic about Bucky and his GF getting caught on a date by the media. The GF is Pluse size and maybe someone makes a mean comment about her size? Cue protective Bucky who LOVES his girl so much

This is precious. And while I am almost certain you mean normal Bucky I had an idea for a popstar reader soooo. You’re getting Bodyguard Bucky. Ooops~ hope you like it anyway. 🩵

Characters/Pairings: Bodyguard!Bucky x Plus size popstar! Reader

Content/Warnings: fatphobia, body image issues, and illusions to smut at the end. Bucky is gonna be super sweet, but if this kind of thing triggers you steer clear. Stay safe, babes!

Author Note: this is written on my phone, and not beta read. So… extend me some grace :)

It was almost preternatural in a way, the way Bucky could sense when you weren’t ok. The way he seemed to know the moment he walked in your door that he was gonna have to chase away storm clouds, but it never failed. Your bodyguard always knew. And he made it his life mission to keep his sunshine girl from flickering out.

“What have you been reading.” He asked, his face stern and jaw clenched but his eyes softer then they had any right to be.

You sigh, turning off your phone screen and setting it face down, “Nothing, just an article.”

“An article about you?” He asked, tilting his head to try and see your eyes. He already knew the answer, because he followed what the media was saying. From the moment you stepped onto the scene the topic of discussion hovered around your weight more then it had any right to be. It didn’t matter that you had a voice that gave people goose bumps or that your presence on stage could light up a stadium all on your own. Because you weren’t a tiny little Barbie doll none of that seemed to matter.

You had been a beacon of positivity through it all though. Using your platform and following to promote self love and healthy habits at all sizes. Focusing on moving your body and prioritizing health over weight or measurements. Bucky adored you for it. Thought you were an angel, deserving of the world. Ans he wished everyone else thought that as well.

“Stars did an article on me.” You admitted, getting up and heading to the kitchen for some water. Not meeting Buckys eyes. “They are covering my casting in hairspray.”

“Yeah?” Bucky followed closely behind. He was proud of you for landing that role. You deserved it, you were gonna be a perfect Tracey. “What about it.”

You still wouldn’t meet his eyes. “It’s nothing James. There just saying I’m perfect for the role.”

Jame. James?! You never called him James. He was always Bucky, sometimes Bucky baby if you were really in a mood. That’s how he knew whatever they had written had hit a chord. “Angel… what did it say.”

You just shake your head and down your water. It really didn’t matter. It wasn’t anything that hadn’t been said before. To be honest, you don’t know why it was bumming you out so badly.

Except you did know why. Because you had dreamed of being on broadway your entire life. Since you were a little girl. And now… that dream was coming true. But all anyone wanted to talk about was how the plus sized popstar landed the fat girl role because what else could she be…

“Angel. You’re thinking awfully loud over there. You gonna tell me or am I gonna have to pull it out of you?” He stepped in closer. His smoky sweet aftershave wafting around you, pulling your eyes up to look at him. His glacial blue eyes were begging, pleading you to talk.

“They-“ you sigh, shoulders drooping. “They got a picture of me coming out of rehearsal. I’m in sweats, it’s unflattering and the whole article is about how I’ve put on weight for the role. Which I haven’t, if anything I’ve lost some from constant practices. But that’s not the point..” your voice cracks.

“I’m tired James. I am tired of having to be put together all the time or the paparazzi makes it all about how I let myself go. I finally reached what I concider to be a highlight of my career-” You voice cracks. The damn that had been slowly cracking inside your chest finally breaking. “And all anyone wanted to to talk about is how my thighs look in my sweats!”

Bucky was already moving. Pulling you into his arms. Tucking your eyes up under his chin as you shake with anger and frustration. Smoothing your hair from your face and kissing your temple with a lingering touch. “There we go, let it out.”

He lets you rant. Pushing down his own anger and frustration. You were the most beautiful person he knew. Inside and out. He had worked for a couple different celebrities over the years and none had the same golden heart as you. None. “I’m so sorry Angel. It’s a load of shit and we both know it but I know thy doesn’t make it easier.”

He closed his eyes. Kissing your hair. “You are beautiful. Every inch of you. From the top of your head to the tips of your toes. I hope you know that.” He pulls back to look into your red rimmed eyes. Cupping your cheek. “You are talented and charming and you draw people to you like flies to honey. And everyone with a brain can see it. I promise. Whoever wrote that article was poking at low hanging fruit that anyone of substance doesn’t care about. You are perfect.”

His voice drips with sincerity as his eyes roam your face. Pads of his thumb wiping away angry tears. “I think you need to put down your phone for the day. Why don’t you give it to me or to Alice and we’ll focus on things that actually matte today ok?”

You blink away tears, considering it. You could hand off your phone. Let your assistant answer your phone for the day, she will let her know if it’s something she needs to answer directly. But, unplugging was hard-

“Come on angel, we will go punch some stuff at the gym. And then I’ll take you for froyo at that boba place you like.” He tucks your hair behind your ear. “And then you can shower and I’ll help you unwind before you have your go practice tonight. How about that.” His voice was laced with promise. With sweet dark temptation as he leans forward and whispers the thing he could do to help you feel better. And you bite your lip as you know he will follow through on every one.

“How about we shower first?”

Bucky smiles, guiding you back toward your room as his hands slip under the hem of your shirt. “Whatever you want princess, let me show you how perfect I really think you are~”

#bucky barnes #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #plus size reader #bodyguard!bucky #maybe I’ll make this an AU. I am actually kind of in love with these two.#sparks picks up

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muscle-gods-only · 12 hours ago

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My teachers always flunked, my school mates were always mean to me and my doctor labeled me as, “On the Spectrum” There was a friend of my dad’s that saw something in me, a focus he called it. He tried several different hobbies with me, but nothing really stuck. One day he wanted to take me out to try a couple things, but first he needed to get a workout in. My dad had to go into work early that day because of so emergency, so he dropped me off at the gym. I immediately felt like a fish that had just been introduced to water! He finished his little cardio workout and then he started showing me how to do all the basic exercises. That evening it was all I could talk about, I was hooked. My parents were so excited that I had something that inspired me that they took me down to the gym, bought me a membership and some clothes, then we went to the shop next door and bought supplements and more gym clothes and gear. My dad’s friend tried training me for the first couple of days, but I wanted to be there all the time. My dad found the biggest trainer working there, a massive guy who fortunately had just moved to town. My dad paid him for me to have two hours in the morning and two more hours of training in the afternoon. A few weeks later I saw my dad’s friend, he looked so small and weak now! I told my trainer and he said that I was making amazing progress, but a little juice would help. The price seemed expensive, but I told my dad and he said, “Hey, we are well-off. Your mom and I are so happy that you are excited about something. If it makes you happy, then that much money is cheap! I’ll grab the money from the vault in my den. I’ll give you at least this much each month and please let us know how we can help you.” I’ve been juicing for a couple months now and I have totally transformed myself. My twin brother came home from college for Christmas Break recently and he was shocked and a little nervous about my immense size and strength but it came in handy when I brought in his dirty laundry. Do they even have washing machines at his school? Then his best friend came over, his friend was going to a different school so they wanted to spend time together. His friend came, like me is gay, so when he saw my monstrous muscular body, he just wanted to spend time with me. That night my brother told me that he felt bad that his friend only wanted to see me. I told him, “Look, brothers are forever. I have trouble forming bonds. I like the attention he gave me tonight, but maybe we can go out once or twice and the rest of the time is for you guys to have buddy time. You, mom and dad are more important than anything.” He responded, “That sounds great!” Then he tried to hug me, but his tiny stick-like arms couldn’t reach around (I always ways taller than him.) “Well, that didn’t quite work. Maybe I can hug one of those massive arms? I mean those are thicker than my torso and both arms!” He hugged my left arm and added, “It’s going to be weird getting used to having a human colossus for a brother!” I told him, “You know that you can call me a freak or anything else you want right? I mean we are brothers, we will have fights and I intend on getting a whole lot bigger. I’d never harm even a hair on your head. However, you don’t have to always be nice to me just because I am a gigantic muscle god!” He hugged my arm again and said, “I got my Christmas wish already: for you to be comfortable with yourself!”

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morgana-larkin · 2 days ago

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Hiii!! I have a Melissa x reader request because I just lived for the newest episodes. (We shall ignore the firefighter’s existence for the sake of my idea.)

It’s set when Melissa is just focused on hosting the Schemmenti Christmas Eve dinner and reader is just trying to get her to relax like while she’s cooking, she’ll hug her from behind or give her little pep talks. But Melissa’s cooking isn’t the only thing she’s worried about. All this time her family has been asking of when she’s finally gonna tie someone down and Melissa always dismisses them. But this dinner, she hinted at finally finding someone, never disclosing the gender. She hasn’t told her family about r for obvious reasons but Melissa thought it was time r finally met them. Once everyone arrives, Melissa would finally introduce r as her girlfriend. But Melissa panics after one of her family members makes a homophobic comment towards Jacob and says that r is simply a friend who had nowhere to go for Christmas Eve. After having a private talk with Melissa, r understands her situation and is fine with holding off on telling her family. During the dinner, everyone stills hounds Melissa about when she’s gonna find a husband. Seeing r hurt by these comments, Melissa finally tells them that she has found someone and reaches for r. Obviously, everyone’s shocked (aside from Jacob, Caleb, and Barbra) but they all agreed to decide to put their differences aside as they loved Melissa more than their homophobia and due to the fact that she was able to cook good food without having a man. I really can’t think of an ending, but I hope you still consider my request :)

Hi Anon and thank you for the request! I wasn’t going to do Melissa prompts until the new year but this was a Christmas one so why not? I would have had this out a couple days ago but I had 3 Christmas parties to attend (big families). Anyway I am working on my last 2 Chessy prompts and should be out soon! I’m all for ignoring the firefighters existence so I was more than happy to write this. Not edited in the slightest and I hope you like it!

On another note: Thank you for all the love and support you’ve given me for all my crazy fics! Consider this a late Christmas gift from me or a gift for whatever holiday you celebrate and a have a happy New Year! 🥳

Her Friend Named Y/n

Warnings: Melissa’s family being stronzos, slight homophobia and racism

Words: 3k

“Melissa, relax. You’ve been making this food for the past 2 weeks and they’re gonna love it.” You tell her and then she gets you to taste test something else. “Amazing like always. Everything you get me to taste test is to die for.” You tell her and she smiles and then goes back to cooking.” You go up to her from behind and wrap your arms around her waist. You feel her lean into your touch for a second then she goes back to cooking.

“Y/n, unless you want to get burnt by the stove then I suggest you move your hands.” She says to you and you pull away from her but stay close by.

“Melissa, you need to relax, your family is gonna love it.” You tell her and she glances at you.

“You know my cooking is not the only thing I’m worried about Y/n.” She tells you and you sigh.

“I know but I’ll turn on my charm and I’ll get them to love me before telling them we’re together.” You say and she rolls her eyes.

“What charm?” She teases with a smile.

“The one that I got you with.” You counter quickly and she snorts.

“If I recall, you were clumsy around me, both physically and verbally.” She tells you and you run your fingers through her hair.

“Because how could someone act normal around you? You’re smoking hot and incredibly smart.” You say and she gives you a kiss.

“I really hope they love you, because I do.” She smiles at you before going back to cooking. You then both hear the doorbell ring and then Melissa goes to go get it and you follow after her.

“Jeez, are we early? Why aren’t you dressed yet?” Kriste Marie tells her and you see Melissa’s unimpressed face.

“It’s nice to see you too, sis.” Melissa tells her and then pats her partner’s back. “Dom.” She adds and then closes the door.

You go back into the kitchen with her and you see her continuing to cook.

“Are you going to be ok in here?” You ask her and she nods.

“Ya I’ll be fine, just gotta finish the cooking.” She tells you and then you hear the doorbell ring and Jacob goes to open it.

“Alright, I’ll go introduce myself to everyone.” You tell her and she nods.

“Go charm my family then.” She says and you give her another kiss before going to the living room. From the pictures she showed you, you instantly recognise her brother Seamus and her mom Teresa.

“Hello.” Jacob tells them and then they look around before their eyes land on you and Caleb.

“Who are you two?” Seamus asks.

“I’m Y/n, a friend of Melissa’s.” You say and hold out a hand to shake.

“I’m Caleb, Jacob’s brother, Melissa invited me. Pleasure to meet you both.” He says and then shakes their hands.

“I’m Seamus, Melissa’s youngest brother.” He says and shakes both of your hands.

“I’m Teresa, Melissa’s mother.” She says and doesn’t shake either of your hands. You and Caleb both put your hands down quickly after realizing and then don’t know what to do.

“May I take your coats?” Jacob offers and they give him their coats and then he runs upstairs.

“Well hello honey.” Teresa says and you turn around to see Melissa.

“Hi Ma.” Melissa says and then hugs her. “Y/n, do you mind coming into the kitchen with me please?” She asks you and you nod before following her.

“Melissa what’s wrong?” You ask her once you reach the kitchen.

“That’s my mom out there.” She says and you nod. “If she doesn’t like you then that’s not good for us. You know I love my family but they have cut people off if they don’t like their partner.” She tells you.

“Oh, so if your mom doesn’t like me then we can’t be together.” You say and she looks at you.

“If she doesn’t like you then I don’t know who to choose. Also no one in my family is gay or bisexual, at least that I know of.” She tells you and then she starts stressing out.

“Ok, Melissa, that’s why we agreed that we’ll see what your family thinks about me before we tell them. Totally neutral opinion about me, no bias or anything.” You tell her and she nods.

“I know, I know.” She says and then the doorbell rings and you hear more people coming in. “Can you just stay with me in here for a few minutes and taste test more food?” She asks and you nod with a smile.

10 minutes later and you walk out to see about 10 people here and a couple kids run into the basement.

“There’s a lot of kids in that basement.” Jacob tells you when he sees you walk out.

“Well she already told us that most people have like 3 kids.” You tell him. “Who are all these people, do you know?” You ask him and he looks at everyone.

“That’s Uncle Archie, then that’s Kristen Marie, Dom Marie, Mark, Marie, Matthew. Then Maria Christina, Craig, girl Toni. Boy Tony is still in prison but apparently there’s a card going around for him to sign. Then there’s Larry, Anthony, Seamus. I think about 30 kids in the basement and then of course you’ve already met Mrs Teresa Schemmenti.” He tells you and you widen your eyes a bit at the amount of names he remembers. Everyone looks at you as they were all being introduced to you and you gulp.

“Hi everyone, I’m Y/n, Melissa’s friend.” You tell them all and they all nod then go back to their conversations. Just then Melissa comes out with some more food.

“Honey, you’re trying something different with your makeup? You’re so brave.” Teresa tells her and Melissa sighs.

“Thanks Ma.” Melissa tells her.

“I love visiting you Mel.” Anthony tells her. “Something about being around you really makes me feel better about myself.” He says and Melissa rolls her eyes.

“And that’s why I love having you, Anthony.” Melissa tells him and you smile.

“Marie, did this place get smaller?” Uncle Archie asks Melissa.

“I’m Melissa, and no, my place did not magically shrink.”

“Ah, I guess you just got bigger then.” He says and then laughs.

“Archie, what would she need a bigger place for?” Teresa says. “She lives with a roommate, unmarried and alone.” She adds and Melissa nods her head, knowing the subject will come up.

“Yeah?”

“You’re so insensitive.” Teresa tells him.

“Me?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” Uncle Archie asks and then the doorbell rings. Melissa goes to get in and then you see Barb and Gerald there and Melissa says hi to them. You walk up to them and give them a hug hello. “Ah. Nobody told me this would be one of those progressive parties.” Archie says and you both turn to look at him.

“Do you want to get strangled?” Melissa says and then Jacob cuts in and Archie goes to take a nap upstairs. Jacob then introduces everyone to Barb and Gerald.

“You forgot Nancy and Dorothy.” Archie says from the stairs.

“There’s nobody here named Nancy or Dorothy.” Jacob tells him.

“I was talking about you, Y/n and your boyfriend.” He says and laughs.

“Ok normally I respect my elders but this guy.” Caleb says and you and Melissa hold him back.

“Archie, Y/n is not gay. Just one of Melissa’s friends that had nowhere to go for Christmas Eve.” Teresa says and you look at Melissa. “Melissa, you seem to have forgotten to tell us that you invited a gay man and black people here.” Teresa tells her daughter and Melissa sighs.

“I didn’t think it would matter as it’s my place and they’re my friends.” Melissa tells her mom.

“Y/n, you seem so young and beautiful. Why haven’t you been able to land a man and be with his family for Christmas?” Teresa asks you and Melissa groans. “Melissa, can I not ask your friend a question? Also didn’t you say that you might have found a man?” Teresa asks her.

“I need to talk to Y/n for a moment alone.” Melissa says and then storms into the kitchen. You follow her and then she turns around to look at you. “I think we should hold off on introducing you as my girlfriend.” She tells you and you look at her confused.

“Why? I thought you were excited to finally introduce me to them?” You ask her and holds your hand.

“I am, I was. But I don’t know how they’ll react to me having a girlfriend instead of a boyfriend. You heard my Ma in there. She thinks you should be with a man instead because you’re young and beautiful and didn’t defend Jacob when her brother called him Nancy.” She tells you and you can tell she’s scared.

“Alright, it’s ok Melissa. We can hold off until you’re absolutely ready.” You tell her and she looks at you and smiles.

“Thank you.” She says and gives you a hug.

“Is everything ready? Gerald and a few other people are wondering about that.” Barb says as she enters the kitchen.

“Ah, ya, just a couple more minutes.” Melissa tells her and looks over at the food on the stove.

“Is everything alright?” She says as she senses some tension.

“We’re holding off on introducing me as her girlfriend.” You tell Barb and she looks at you and Melissa.

“Why?”

“Because I don’t think my family is gonna respond well to me having a girlfriend instead of a boyfriend.” Melissa tells her and Barb nods. “Alright food is ready. Do you guys mind helping me bring it out?” Melissa asks and you both nod and help her.

All 3 of you bring food out and everyone gathers around the table and takes a seat. They all begin to start putting food on their plates and you take a seat beside Melissa and Barb sits down on the other side of you for support.

“So Melissa, where is this man you were hinting at?” Teresa asks her and Melissa sighs.

“We haven’t been going out long enough to introduce them to my family.” Is all Melissa says to try and close the topic.

“What happened with that Gary?” Kristen Marie asks.

“He proposed and I said no, then we broke up.” Melissa tells her.

“Why’d you say no? You need a man to be with.” Teresa says and you look down at your plate. You then feel Barb grab your hand and you look at her and give her a grateful smile. Melissa sees the interaction between you and Barb and she sighs.

“I just didn’t want to marry him, can that be the end of the discussion?” Melissa tries to shut it down again.

“I’m just saying that you can’t be picky and we all liked him.” Teresa says and Melissa sees that you're hurt by this discussion and it breaks her heart seeing you hurt.

“What if she lied about finding a man?” Kristen Marie says to her mom and Teresa looks at Melissa.

“Did you or did you not find someone?” Teresa asks.

“I did find someone, I’m not lying about that.” Melissa says, annoyed at her family.

“I can’t believe you let Joe go. He was good, he was good for you and he was a firefighter.” Teresa says.

“I almost forgot about Joe.” Seamus says and Melissa puts her head in her hands. “Why did you divorce again?”

“Because we fell out of love.” She simply says. “But we’re still friends.” She adds and they all give her a confused look.

“Look, all I’m saying is that you need a man in your life, and I want to meet the man that you found.” Teresa tells her daughter and Melissa looks at her mom.

“What if it’s not a man?” She suddenly says and you look at her.

“Well what else would it be?” Teresa says and Kristen Marie looks between you and Melissa. She sees the both of you keep looking at each other as well as you being hurt by the conversation.

“What if it’s a woman?” Melissa asks her mom and everyone looks at each other in disbelief before looking at Teresa or Melissa.

“You can’t be with a woman.” Teresa simply says.

“Why not?” Melissa challenges her mom.

“Because you’re not interested in other women, you’ve only been with men and everyone in this family is straight.” Teresa explains. “Now stop saying foolish things honey.” She adds and Melissa sees your eyes are starting to water.

“Excuse me, I’ll be right back.” You tell everyone and stand up.

“Wait Y/n.” Melissa says and stands up as you look at her. “I did find someone, and she’s right here.” She tells everyone and then wraps an arm around your waist. “Y/n is my girlfriend.” She confirms and everyone gasps and looks shocked except for her friends. “We’ve been together for 9 months and we love each other.” She adds and you look at everyone’s reactions.

“You can’t be serious?” Teresa says and you look down and Melissa sees your reaction.

“I think she is serious.” Kristen Marie says. “They’ve been glancing at each other the entire time and Y/n has been looking hurt about this conversation.” Kristen Marie adds.

“Thanks sis.” Melissa says and rolls her eyes. “It’s true, I’m not going to pretend that I’m with a man when it’s hurting my girlfriend just to please my family.” Melissa says proudly and you look at her. She smiles at you and gives you a quick kiss and then looks at her mom. “So all of youse can either accept it or leave.” She adds and you lay your head on her shoulder and wrap your arms around her.

“You know this food is really good.” Seamus says and everyone looks at him.

“I agree, I’m surprised she pulled this off. I guess I didn’t need to defrost the frutti di mare I had at home as a backup dinner for me and Dom.” Kristen Marie says.

“You know if this were a little less brochante.” Teresa starts but Anthony interrupts her.

“Ya, a little mushy.” He says but Teresa continues.

“Yeah, this could have almost passed the nonna Zoltini.” She says and you see Melissa practically beaming at the compliment. “No single woman can make food this good so I guess being with Y/n helped her make good food.” Teresa tells everyone and everyone thinks about it.

“I like Y/n, I met her 2 years ago at Pecsa.” Kristen Marie says and nods. “Melissa wasn’t keeping an eye on her though as I talked with her for a good hour.” She adds and Melissa looks at her sister then at you.

“You did what?” Melissa asks, a little angry.

“We just started being friends, plus I had no idea who she was.” You tell Melissa and you feel her hold tighten on you.

“I think we need an updated photo of me punching you in the face.” Melissa says.

“I’m saying I like your girlfriend.” Kristen Marie says. “I don’t know what she sees in you though.” She adds and you hold Melissa back as she wanted to start some violence with her sister.

“I like your girlfriend as well, a little shy. But I do love you Melissa, and if Y/n makes you happy and gets you to make good food, then I’ll accept the relationship.” Teresa tells her and Melissa smiles and nods at her mom.

“Thank you, I’ll go get the dessert.” She says and brings you into the kitchen with her. “Oh my god, that went really well. Not only did they love my cooking, they’re accepting of us being together.” She says and kisses you. Barb comes into the kitchen and you both pull apart.

“Sorry to interrupt but I just wanted to see how you’re both feeling.” Barb says with a smile.

“I’m very happy, my family is accepting my cooking and my girlfriend.” Melissa says with a huge smile.

“I still can’t believe you went right out and said that we’re together.” You tell her and she shrugs.

“All their comments were hurting you, I couldn’t just do nothing.” She says and you plant a kiss on her cheek.

“Thank you, I know I picked the right woman to love.” You say and she smiles before she gets the cannoli ready.

“Alright you stronzos, here’s the famous Schemmenti cannoli.” Melissa says as she comes out with the cannolis and everyone takes one.

Everyone eats all the cannolis and then digest for a bit before they start heading off.

“You got yourself a looker.” Kristen Marie tells her sister. “I don’t know how you managed to score that but apparently you did.” She says and Melissa smiles and wraps an arm around you.

“Yep, I got the girl of my dreams.” Melissa says and you smile at her.

“Goodbye.” Kristen Marie says and then leaves.

Melissa closes the door after Barb and Gerald leave and then lets out a breath. She takes a few steps and gives you a long hug and you feel all the tension she’s been holding for 2 weeks just leave her.

“I don’t know about you but I think that was a huge success.” Caleb says and Melissa pulls back and nods.

“One of the best nights ever.” She says while looking at you and you smile. “I think we should turn in a little early, what do you think?” She asks you and you nod while you both go upstairs.

“I know that look and tone. I hope you brought earphones Caleb, cause you’re gonna need them with our thin walls.” Jacob tells his brother and then Caleb looks at you both going up the stairs.

“Yep, neither of us are quiet.” You say and Melissa giggles.

“Come on you goof.” She says and then pulls you to the bedroom.

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