#I hate being back in the suburbs

[nicolegendary]

.

[courtillyy]

actually the idea of moving in with someone is fucking terrifying

[tariah23]

Still crying over my friend telling me that they’ve never heard of Chief Keef-

[harryforguccy]

I really dislike living in the suburbs

[dilf-docs]

To The Devil I Know

bfd!joel miller x younger!reader

summary: your infamous girl's trip with your best friend sarah gets crashed by his overprotective dad.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap, smut, p. in v., fingering, oral (m. and f. receiving), brat taming, it's pussy spanking time again bc i do in fact like it a lot, praise/daddy kink sprinkled somewhere, reader calls him mr. miller A LOT, exhibition kink (v nasty), degradation kink (he calls her little slut), pantie sniffing, dirty talk (they have a sentence awaiting in horny jail), y/n grinds on joel's nose bc yeah i too want that, this is contradicting but lwk sub!joel bc that man's touch starved as HELL, may do a part two idk pls give it love, dad!bod joel bc i say so (yummy), no angst (wtf dilf-docs? the angst gods are so pissed off rn)

word count: 7,195 words

side note: this request got me HOOKED the moment i opened it and since i'm currently on a pedro hyperfixiation rn, we need to put the mental illness to good use. also, this is lwk based on the song by suki waterhouse devil i know! :) i'm seeing that i have two joel fics with devil in the title btw something something abt nickels and not being a lot but weird it happened twice also WE HIT 300 FOLLOWERS??? (and its 1am and i have to wake up at 4am is anyone surprised atp...)

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"Sarah!" you shout, "get your ass out here you looser!"

It's probably eight in the morning, and here you are, honking and shouting in the middle of the quiet calm suburbs.

When you spot her curly head running towards you in a rush, you know she's pissed.

"Stop screaming!" she shouts back, "my neighbours will hate me"

You've known Sarah since you were kids. When you first moved to Texas, she was the only one who spoke to you in school. You grew up with her among white picket fences and scrapped knees, mantaining the friendship even as you moved away, until your return for college.

"Why would I even care? I don't live here!" you joke from the driver's seat, hopping off and giving her a hug. "I'm sorry but I can't help it. I'm just so excited for this trip, we've been planning it for ages!"

You keep talking excitedly about your plans, not noticing how her face falls.

"Yeah, about that..."

"You girls ready?" a third voice enters the picture, definitely not belonging to a girl.

"Uh, Sarah" you breath in, "Why the fuck is your dad here?"

In all his glory: Joel Miller, a guy you haven't seen in forever, too busy living in the dorms, girl dates with Sarah often out of her house. You wanted to explore the world: you weren't ten anymore, and the suburbs lost all of it's appeal they had when you were the age of Barbies and drawing on chalk.

"Listen, y/n. I tried, I really tried. But as soon as I opened my mouth, he started to pack his bags"

"Isn't your dad always busy at work?" you inquire, another one of the reasons Joel's face isn't a fresh memory in your head.

"That's part of the problem. He took all of the pending vacations he had at once" she sighs, sounding as dissapointed as you are. "I understand if you don't want to go"

"Are you being serious right now?" you chuckle dryly. "No, absolutely not. I saved for this trip, packed my favorite outfits and aced all my classes so my parents would allow me. Nothing is going to ruin this for me: not you, not your dad. So we'll go and we'll have all the fun we planned, yeah?" you express firmly, holding her hands. "We will have our girl summer, no matter what. Even if we have to ignore the elephant in the room..."

"Did you just call me fat?"

You turn around, and there he is: the uninvited. Joel Miller's aged face stands before you, strong arms flexing under the pressure of a couple of suitcases.

"No" you reply back, "just a nuissance"

He chuckles at your response, amused. "If you thought I'd let my babygirl go alone with you to the beach and get shit-faced drunk, you're not as smart as I remember, y/n"

Your name would always be on his tongue to call you out. Y/n, don't do that. Y/n apologize to the neighbours. Y/n, slow down. Y/n, don't be so stubborn. You were always a troublemaker, and his lips would only know how to pronounce your name if to berate you. But now, as his mouth says your name with a newly learned tone, dripping with dare and amusement, you can't help but feel a fire ignite that burns your skin.

"Dad!" Sarah calls out, taking you out of your thoughts. She flushes in embarrasment, and you scoff at the idea of giving too much of your time to think about Mr. Miller of all people. "I'm not ten anymore, we'll be just fine"

"You're barely of legal age!" he counters back. "What if somethin' was to happen to you, huh? I'd never forgive myself"

You get annoyed at his over-the-top reactions. What did he think you were gonna do? The wildest thing you had in mind was getting drunk while sitting in the sand. Not even in the water! You may be a wild spirit, but stupid you're not.

"Look, Mr. Miller" he cocks his head to the side, daringly so, almost as if waiting for you to try. "I don't know what you're thinking, but this isn't Driveway Dolls" he looks at you confused, so you try again, "Or Thelma and Louise, whatever suits your fucking old ass. Alright? This is a girls trip, heard that? Just two bestfriends enjoying their youth and summer without boys around to ruin it for them"

"Boys?" he laughs. "Too bad, then, 'cause sweetheart, I'm a man"

Your breath hitches, but you're not going to let him win; you always need to have the last word.

"Well, man up and let your daughter be free for once!"

Sarah covers her face with her palms, clearly knowing her dad more. This is a lost battle.

"Stop, y/n. Please. Dad's impossible to bend"

"He's ruining our trip!" you protest, feeling like a child throwing a tantrum.

"Take it or leave it" he leans against his truck, crossing his arms. Your eyes dart to the strained fabric of his sleeves, and when he chuckles, you don't know if he noticed or it's because of his imminent victory.

"Fine!" you throw your hands in the air, dramatically so. "Welcome on board, intruder"

Joel Miller smiles, and maybe it's the rare sight, not even common back in the day, that makes your heart skip a beat.

"And we're taking my truck"

"Are you being serious right now?!" Was this man going to take away all your freedom?

He laughs, mockingly. Rage bubbles in your chest, along something darker you aren't going to admit just yet.

"There is no way my daughter is going on a fucking hatchback to the beach"

You try to distract yourself talking to Sarah in the backseat, but her dad's prying glances time to time from the rear view mirror have you shifting uncomfortably on your seat.

He's persistent, always has been. Joel Miller, just as Sarah said, wasn't a man who could be bent. You'd remember thinking he was a sort of superhero: unbreakable. Whenever Sarah needed help, a pair of strong arms would be there, ready to take the weight off of her shoulders. He was now older, as you have noticed: grey and wrinkles sprayed all over his face. And now, the worst part of it all:

Age had made him infuriatingly attractive.

Unfair, you think, that a man so bitter that only seemed to worry and nag, was blessed with the rare quality of aging like wine. You can deny it anymore: whatever Joel Miller has now that he didn't before is working on you like a lovesick spell.

You look again to the front, just in time to catch one of his subtle (not really) stares. You keep the eye contact, only he tears away his gaze first, something akin to regret and fear circling on his warm brown orbs. The fire from before cracks inside of your belly, and the anticipation begins.

If he was going to ruin your trip, you might as well return the favor.

"M' gonna stop for gas" he says after some minutes of silence, deviating towards a gas station.

You take the opportunity to get out of the truck to strech your legs. Sarah does so too, but then whispers into your ear:

"Tell my dad I need to go to the bathroom. Don't want him worrying"

As if you'll talk to him. Despite that, you nod and she leaves you alone with her annoying dad.

"Reckless too, huh?" Joel appears by your side, almost making you drop your phone. "You know you're not s'pposed to use the damn phone on a gas station? Good thing I ain't let my daughter go alone with you"

You put your phone down. "Reckless? I know what I'm doing" but you sound nervous, for some reason.

"You haven't changed at all, have you?" Joel says, his voice surprisingly soft.

You heart gets stuck in your throat at the sudden shift, "I suppose not"

"I get that you hate me" he confesses, done filling the tank, "but I couldn't let the two of you go alone"

Your cheeks turn pink at the accusation, "I don't hate you"

He laughs, and the sound has something stirring in the lower of your belly. Why is Joel Miller of all people provoking feelings in you no other boy has ever provoked? You're used to playing with boys as you please, and you come to realize that's where the difference lies: you don't know how to handle a man.

A man so strong, your eyes don't leave him as his arms flex while pumping the gas, the delicious peek his simple white shirt gives you not going unnoticed; droplets of sweat on his temple, sliding down his jawline then getting lost down the crook of his neck. You lick your lips on instinct, horrified when you realize what you've just thought and done.

"Damn right you don't"

You could say you've reached some kind of truce, but then Sarah comes back, and when you look at Joel again, he's reverted to that annoying apathic state of his, but instead of bothering you, it only makes you want more.

"Hey" he says to Sarah, "where you went?"

"I had to pee, dad. Relax" she dismisses, shooting at you a can-you-believe-it look.

He walks away, ready to jump in the driver's seat again, when he turns around to whisper to Sarah:

"Don't ever leave me again" tone stern, "not with her"

But you hear.

You arrived late, the sun hiding behind the large body of water that seemed infinite.

"I can't believe we missed the first sunset!" you whine. "It was going to look so good on my Instagram stories..."

"This generation and their problems" Joel scoffs, taking the suitcases to the house you've rented for the next two days.

The answer is right at the tip of your tongue, but you decide to be the bigger person and remain quiet. If he wants to play, you better play smart.

"Dad, please" Sarah calls him out, and you have to hide a laugh. "Don't fight with y/n"

"I ain't doing shit" he sneers, crossing his bulking arms.

Sarah walks past him, muttering against his childishness. That angers Joel, who tries to remain cool.

"I know you hate me" you suddenly appear by his side. Your vainilla scent gets up on his nose, invading his body of you. "I just think you should try, for Sarah"

"I don't hate you" he answers, and now it's your turn to laugh.

"Yeah? Doesn't seem like it, Mr. Miller" it comes out before you can stop it, and there's something dark lurking behind his brown eyes piercing through you.

"I don't" sounding more sure this time. Serious too.

"You'll have to prove that"

You enjoy the surprise on his face and the light pink sprinkled across his cheeks.

"Prove that?"

You nod, finding all of this suddenly funny.

"Hmh, you heard me. Prove it, Mr. Miller. That you don't hate me"

But before he can respond, your bestfriend is back.

"Y/n, come on! You need to check the house. It has a shared balcony!" Sarah beams giddy.

You let her excitement infect you, taking her hand as you go inside the house. Joel stays back, your words ringing on his ears.

On the other hand, Sarah and you check the room together.

"Look this" she points at one of the mirrors in the room: it has details that remind you of the sea. "Isn't it cute?"

"It is" you agree, "we should take a picture"

"Okay. But use your phone" she says, "mine died on the road"

You're about to pull it out when you feel your pockets empty.

"It's... not here"

"You might have left it in the car" she tries to help.

"Yeah" you try to remain level-headed, "I'll go search for it"

You return to the truck, pressing your head against the window. Just like your friend guessed, it's there, abandoned on the seat.

"Lost somethin'?"

You gasp, turning around. Joel Miller's face is centimeters away from yours, breathing heavily as his body cages your smaller frame against the truck's doors.

"My phone" you find your voice after what feels like eternity, "it's inside the car"

"Need help with that?" his voice sounds low, whisper easily to be confused with a growl.

You don't know how to answer, scared for the first time of where your mouth could take you. So your solution is to nod, and step aside for him to open the car.

"There you go" he's dropping it in your hands, fingers lightly brushing yours. There's a shiver down your spine despite the cool weather, and you know damn well it's all his fault. He may feel it too, by the way he takes a step back, putting some distance.

"Need anything else?" but it feels like a slap to the face, as if he's challenging you to speak what you've been thinking but are too coward to do when he stands before you.

"No" you mentally slap yourself for how pathetic you sound, "this is all I needed, Mr. Miller. Thanks"

You look back one last time, despite it all. And there it is: that same look he gave you in the car.

"Anytime" but it falls deaf to your ears, as you basically ran away from him.

Him and his imposing presence, enough to make your legs tremble and your mind to stop working. Him and his smell, that brings you back to simpler times and reminds you of a a secret place in the woods, musk getting under your skin. Him and his breath, hitching when you touch hands. Him and his beating heart, just as loud as yours.

"Took you long" Sarah comments when you return, "I was already falling asleep"

She doesn't know or suspect, you tell yourself, but that doesn't stop you from feeling sick.

That night, as Sarah lays by your side and you try to sleep, all you can think about is his big hands, the lingering feeling of a warm touch. And then Joel, stepping back―coming to his senses, as if something is holding him back.

Anytime.

You can't help but wonder what stopped him.

Days have blurred between drinks by the poolside, waves crashing, wet sand in your fingers and sun carressing skin.

Despite what happened, Joel remains in the shadows, letting you and Sarah enjoy your trip in peace. You may be spending time with your bestfriend, but his presence hangs in the air, impregnated with his strong pine and whisky smell, looming over you like a shadow; suffocating, like his scent is all you can breath. You hate how your mind keeps going back to him, because despite your inicial claims to ruin him, that wasn't the purpose of this vacation, yet Joel seems to have infected you with a need that corners your mind to think of him and him only. The greed you feel is unnatural, like a spell has been cast upon you. He may be far, just as you wanted, and you should enjoy that, but it's that very same distance that is driving you insane.

Today, you and Sarah decided to go diving and then play volleyball.

The day ends, the sun sets, and so does the tiredness. But as Sarah's snores fill your ears, you toss around the bed, trying to conceal sleep to no avail.

Staring at the ceiling, you kept drifting back to Joel, mind wondering and heart racing at thoughts of strong arms caging you, warmth in your body that the breeze creeping through flowing curtains fails to provide.

The sound of wood creaking jolts you awake. His silhoutte is hard to miss, and your eyes follow it cross your bedroom. You pretend to be asleep, his scent up your nose as he walks in careful measured steps, trying not to wake you up. He looks back at Sarah, and the moonlight betrays him when it shines over his eyes, revealing an adoration that gnaws your chest.

He keeps walking, until he reaches the shared balcony. It's then that you make a choice, heart pounding in your chest as you race yourself from bed, going his way.

You go outside, finding him resting his arms on the balcony, facing the beach in silence. Soft waves crash against the wet sand, but not even that can overpower the sound of your beating heart.

"What're you doin' here?" he's asking, even if you haven't moved from your spot. Seems like your friend wasn't joking about his heightened senses, despite his old age. "Thought y'were 'sleep"

"Well, Sarah is a fast sleeper" you answer, walking to his side.

"She sure is" and the faintest of a smile appears on his face.

Joel Miller is a mystery to you: the most closed off man you've ever met, hiding behind his apparent apathy that only seems to be gone whenever Sarah is around. She's the apple of his eye, and those soft traces of a more tamed character that come to light have truly picked your interest, begging for more crumbs that will help you puzzle who he really is: he, that is as handsome as a mystery. The worst is, you don't know what attracts you more.

But you won't let him win.

"Mr. Miller?"

"Yeah?"

"Were you married?"

He looks at you, dark eyes partly iluminated by the moonlight.

"Aren't you a bit too young to be bold?"

"And aren't you too hot to be all alone?" you reply in an instant, rendering him speechless.

He chuckles, but it sounds defeated rather than amused.

"Trust me, kid" he's back at facing the ocean. Goddamn coward. "This isn't what you want"

"Don't call me kid" you berate, almost repulsed at it. "I'm twenty one"

He scoffs. "Still hella young"

"But I know what I want" a wavering hand ready to trace over his pecs, but he's stopped you before it descends. Before it's too late.

"You don't" he assures, grip on your hand stronger, without knowing how much you're enjoying this. Or maybe he does. "See? That's the problem with you kids: you think you do, but you don't"

You loose your patience.

"Tell me then, Mr. Miller. Would a kid do this?"

Taking the distraction, the same hand flies now to grop his dick, and to your surprise, it's already hard.

"Seems I'm not the only one who doesn't know what they want"

"Stop" he warns, hissing when your eager fingers unbuckle his belt. It's huge, for some reason, and you can't help but feel an ardent throb at the thought of grinding on it.

When your eyes look at Joel, he swears he sees you devilishly smirk, almost as if you were mocking him.

"Stop?" you bite your lip, feigning innocence as doe eyes look where dark ones had done before. "If that's what you want, you aren't even trying"

You kneel down, and the position gives you the perfect side of his adam's apple bobbing in a nervous gulp. He grows insecure under your intense stare, breath hitching when the wind hits his now free member as you pull down his underwear, revealing it hard and leaking with precum. You laugh delighted, with victory, and he finds himself trapped between the moon and your games, drowning on a sea feet away.

"I think I know what you want"

"How? You don't even know what you want" barely fighting it.

Your fingers grace over his soft abdomen, tracing down his belly and happy trail. Your teeth nip at the skin scattered with soft rosy lines, peppering the skin with fluttering kisses to entertain your mouth until your digits touch his hard cock. Joel whines, squirming, and you're delighted with the receptiveness, needy sounds escaping his lips.

You haven't even started yet.

"You're right, I don't" you agree. "All I know is you piss me off and that you ruined our trip, so I'm gonna take my anger out on you one way... or another"

You take your first lick, savouring the dark red head. His hips buck, a shaky gasp robbed from his chapped lips.

"Fuck" he exhales weakly, lost against the sound of water.

"Don't worry, Mr. Miller. I'll take good care of you" admiring his girth. He looks down on you, bottom lip caught between his teeth. Joel can't lie and say he isn't fascinated with the way you look at him, not believing so much appetite can fit in such a small young body. Not even his partners before you, had looked at him like he was the best thing in the world, and now here you were: the loud-mouthed brat best friend of his daughter, sucking his cock while Sarah slept just a few meters away. Just yersteday he was bickering with you, not standing your spoiled attituted and juvenile spirit that can't be tamed and won't shut up. Hell, you had even disrespected him. But here he is, not being able to find the words or actions to stop you: because he doesn't want to.

It was all so fucked up.

But then you're closing your lips around his swollen head, and he knows there's no point in fighting it anymore, his whole body urging him to give in.

"Oh, fuck" he pants, getting all worked up as you take him deeper. "Keep goin'. You're doin' a great job, sweetheart"

The praise gets to you, even if not needed.

Your tongue swirls, running the muscle with wet slides, up and down, tip to base, some pressure applied. You proceed to take in his balls, feeling him tense up. You wanted to mock him badly, but your mouth was full of his dick, so that wasn’t happening.

"D-don't stop" he pleads, sounding more like a whine.

He's deep enough that it hits your throat. You've never been this greedy, but also, have never tried with a dick so big. You feel him in the roof of your mouth, your lips at the base of the tip, brushing against skin. Joel can't keep up: breath hitching, moans ragged and consumed, barely standing if it wasn't for your hands digging in his thighs for support.

You keep building pace, seeing Joel's face scrunch up.

"M' close" his voice comes out strained, his head tilting back, wild soft locks from before now plastered against his forehead, dripping with sweat. His muscles tense, you can feel it, and it's just about time before he's coming inside your mouth.

You want it. To taste more of him, who you claim to hate but feels oh so good. Strong, just as his presence.

"So good, fuck, you're so good" in a tone so needy and desperate. It falls out of his lips, followed by more unintelligible praises dripping from his tongue.

And then, in a shaky breath, lost to the wind:

"Y/n"

You gasp, and he feels it, the air ticklish on his sensitive skin.

Joel said your name.

Your name, in a way it had never been said before. Uttered like a prayer, submerged in devotion. Your name, melting into his moans, deep within him, the calling full of a primal desire. The experience is intoxicating, making you crave more.

Joel comes with a groan, head falling back. Your name dies on his lips as his hips thrust up with your lips closing in. Thick spurts of cum mix with saliva in the back of your throat. You pull out, a string of saliva still connecting you to his dick. He looks down on you, body shaking as much as yours. Without breaking eye contact, he wipes some of the mess drooling from your lips, his calloused thumbs carresing you with a softness you didn't think was possible. The contrast makes you falter a bit, and you know Joel notices.

"There you go" your voice comes out hoarse, avoiding his eyes, "now you know what you want"

He chuckles, giving you a hand to stand up. As you raise to your feet, his face is barely inches away from yours. You can see the lines time has marked across his face, the grays coloring hair you remember to be brown, and those eyes―piercing through you like they know you better than you know yourself.

"But do you?"

Joel Miller doesn't know what is regret.

He didn't feel it when Sarah arrived unexpectedly at the ripe age of twenty, forcing him out of college. He didn't feel it when Sarah's mother left him alone to raise his daughter all by himself, aware he had tried it all to make it work. He surely didn't feel it when you came back after leaving Texas, long gone the childlike wonder and features that made him see you as an extension of his daughter, his gaze lingering a bit too long on this familiar face in a beautiful blooming new body.

But this is different, and he isn't sure if, for the first time, he's finally known what is regret.

Joel Miller also doesn't know when to back out of a fight.

He remember his brother Tommy, practically begging to let go of some asshole that dared to pick up on him, knuckles bloody no matter if he was young then and old as stubborn now, the same red painted across his willfull hands.

But now those hands prickle and sweat, no matter how much he runs them over the fabric of his jeans. And now, as your dangerous stare pierces through him across the small table, Sarah oblivious to the game as she quietly munchs her cereal, Joel Miller backs down, his gaze the first to look away.

He realizes just now why he was so afraid to look up to the sky after you left. The same stars that stared back from the high of the dark night are akin to the ones dancing in your eyes.

"Mr. Miller" your voice breaks his train of thoughts.

"Where's Sarah?" he asks in a panicked voice, realizing you've been left alone.

"Brushing her teeth" you answer, slightly taken back by his tone. "We were going out today, remember?"

Ah, yes. A little tour to an island not to far away from there.

"M' not goin'. Sorry, kid" he's decided. Before you can speak, Sarah returns and asks the question herself.

"M' tired. That's all" but it sounds rather an excuse.

"Are you sure, dad?" Sarah presses, not sure why he had changed his mind at the last minute.

"Yeah" he insists, all while avoiding those eyes of yours, unsatisfied and searching for answers of questions qithout a voice. "You girls go and have fun"

So you do.

You go and feel like you're inside of Mamma Mia (your favorite movie; both of you learned ABBA's discography thanks to it, something that offended your parents), the sun reflecting in the water, the little island with its green and sun, and the flowers that dust their petals into the shore where your boat arrives.

But when the trip is over and soft waves rock your return, you think of Joel.

You think you should feel at least a little ashamed of becoming so obssesed with a man in barely two days, who, on top of it all, is your bestfriend's dad. But then you remember the taste of him inside your mouth, how his dick had rasped against your throat, his seed warm in the tip of your tongue. And then his eyes, promises meant to be broken locked away behind tides of fear, that do an excellent job of reminding you how easy is to drown; to fall for how in hazel flickers, Joel seems he'd give you the world.

"Let's get drunk" you deadpan once you're back at the shore.

Sarah laughs at your determination, then realizes you're serious.

"What?"

"Yeah, it's our last day here" you reason. "Besides, your dad isn't here. What's he going to say?"

If you sound between angry and dissapointed at his absence, Sarah remains quiet.

"We're running away" she tries one last time, but by the look in your eyes, you've made your choice.

"Are we? We're twenty-one, Sarah. We can do whatever the fuck we want" you feel rebellious all of a sudden, "what? Don't you wanna give this trip a grand finale?"

So you crash into the nearest bar and waste the night away, drinking and dancing. But you're ordering a drink you don't like, and in every glass of whiskey down your throat, his name hangs in the air like the memory of his smell, locked behind a vault as if it's too sacred to say. But when Sarah gets a boy to dance and lends his friend to you, you wish there was rough where soft meets your skin, and chapped when you kiss his lips. Your body burns ablaze with sweat, alcohol and regret, a dangerous combination that makes you pull Sarah out of the bar when you feel you're about to black out. She complains, but you're set on making it to the bed before your eyelids shut.

Maybe it's because you always had what you wanted, or maybe it was the forbidden, but whatever reason had pushed you in Joel's orbit, refused to let you go.

And maybe you're imagining his voice, scolding you like a kid. Maybe you're seven again, and in the shadows of the bed, you've gone back to your childhood days. Y/n, y/n, y/n. That sick berating tone of his, acting like you're stupid and small.

"Fucking brat" he spats, drops of his angry scowl landing on your cheek. You then realize he's hovering over you, and it's real, not a product of your foggy mind. So you stand up, sobering up a bit, when he charges back again. "Makin' my daughter pass out? What the fuck were you thinkin'? Could've ended in the middle of the street. You're s'pposed to go to the damn island and then come back!"

Your mouth tastes like sand, but even if you've passed out a couple hours ago, the fire doesn't die. So your tongue is back, finding it's voice to say:

"Well, if you hadn't left us alone, this wouldn't have happened"

He chuckles, darkly. Humorless. "I see"

"What?" you challenge, a shiver down your spine that looses itself somewhere else.

"You got my daughter drunk as revenge"

You're mortified at the accusation, the remnants of alcohol now long gone of your system.

"Do you think I'd risk me and my friends' safety for you? Out of all people, you?" not caring if you sound bitter.

The truth sticks to your skin as uncomfortably as the sweat.

"I dunno, sweetheart. That's why I'm asking you" the pet name rolls effortlessly, in a rough voice that creates a wet spot in your panties. He gets closer, and you can see the tremble of his lips as he lets out a shaky breath. "Be a good girl and answer"

"I won't tell you shit" you spit.

"You little minx, thinkin' you can run your tongue like it ain't been 'round my cock before" you look like a deer caught in headlights, and Joel's enjoying this more than he should. "That's right, what'd Sarah think knowing her friend's a little slut for'er daddy's cock?"

The electric current that crosses your body sparks the fire of the woods hiding behind his auburn storms.

Now you're feeling high on a forest fire. You want the flames to engulf you, even if ashes is all there'll be left.

"Tell me you want this" his forehead clashes against yours, and the whole world falls silent, except for your ringing ears.

"I want this" and he's just as surprised as you are by the unwavering conviction. "I need you, Mr. Miller"

You try to get up, but he pushes you with full force back into your bed. Then, the base creaks, and he's on top of you, his weight pressing you against the mattress.

"What are you-"

"You think I'd let you get away easily? Have things your way? Naive lil' girl" he tuts, "I'll punish you for that"

As on cue, drowned out snores are heard from your side.

"But, Sarah-" you try to protest, his body caging you under his mercy.

"That'll mean you're behavin', right?" he runs his thumb across your lips, gently pulling them down, as if the chase was thrilling as eating the prey. "I know you don't want to wake her up and see her slut of a friend bangin' her daddy"

You tense, remaining silent at the threat, even if your body reacts other ways.

"Good girl"

He’s quick to get rid you of your shorts.

"Fuckin' hell" he murmurs against your neck, the clothing discarded somewhere in the room. "Wearin' this little shitty bottoms to rail me up, knowin' damn well when to bent and get me hard. Been thinkin' of takin' them off ever since you wore 'em first"

The confession makes you whine, and Joel's delighted by the sound, and just how putty you are under his big rough hands.

"Let's see what we got here" his large hands caress your thighs as he settles between your legs. "Black lace, baby? Such a fuckin' tease. Wore 'em for me?"

You shake your head, but his calloused digits dig on the plush skin of your thighs, making you wince at the pain.

"Don't lie to me, sweetheart. You'd said you'll be a good girl, yeah?" you nod, soaking wet, painfully so.

"Yes, I'll be"

"Show me your manners, then" he presses light kisses on the insides of your thighs, close to where you need his graying beard to tickle, "and I'll show you mine"

"Just eat me, Joel" you demand breathlessly. "Fuck. Need you, Mr. Miller, so bad"

"And why should I reward you, impatient little slut? Eager to get daddy's filthy mouth between that pretty pussy" Joel bites the inside of your thigh, and it takes all of your strength to avoid becoming a moaning mess. "You've been bad, sweetheart. A brat"

You deny it, but his head dissappears between your legs, licking the wet spot on your panties. You squirm under the teasing of his tongue, legs shutting close on instinct. You drown a whimper in your palm as he yanks your panties away.

"Don't do anything I ain't tell you to" demanding, and if you weren't this horny and out of your mind, you'd probably be scared. "There'll be consequences"

You try to obey. But then his nose, that big nose you want covered in your slick as you grind off of it between your legs, sniffs your panties. He gives it one big sniff, and then two, fingers going white as he holds the piece of fabric with too much force, shoving it on his face.

"Ye'r too fuckin' sweet, I'll give you that" he mumbles in a drunken haze. "Need to taste that drippin' cunt of yours 'night"

The bed creaks again, or maybe it's the sound of his bones starting to give in to old age, but Joel is sucking your clit, tongue pushed inside of your puffy folds. You hide a moan against his lips, hands traveling to grip his hair.

"Joel" you breathe out. 

He parts your folds easily, and before you know it, a rugged finger circles your entrance. Your back arches, and then he leaves place for his mouth again, flicking your sensitive core with his tongue. A moan a little too loud escapes your lips, making his eyes darken when the bed next to you shifts, Sarah tossing in her sleep.

"You dumb fuckin' brat. What'd I say?" his hand slams against your pussy, a sting you've never felt before, both showered in pain and pleasure, spreading across your cunt. "Don't disobey me. Apologize, now"

He stops his minstrations, and you're so achingly close to your orgasm, that the answer falls easy and rushed from your lips.

"Sorry, Mr. Miller"

"Good girl" Joel praises as he pushes his finger in, next to his tongue on your clit.

But the orgasm is so deliciously close, and you can't wait for more. So now you're grinding in his face by reflex, rubbing against his big nose just like you'd imagined. You whine at the sensation, and Joel rests his tongue flat on your clit with surprise.

"Who gave you permission to do that?" but his voice sounds more amused than nagging. "That imagination of yours is somethin' else. Have you been thinkin' bout it all this time, hmh, greedy dirty slut?"

The orgasm looms closer, hitting when Joel pushes a second rough finger in, walls clenching against his digits. He pulls away, licking his fingers with his tongue.

"Such a perfect pussy you got there, sweetheart. As sweet as you when you ain't bein' a pain in the ass"

You laugh breathless, trying to recover.

"Wanna taste?"

So now he's kissing you for the first time, his lips rough against plush skin, nibbling with your lower lips between his teeth, his tongue still tasting like you roaming free inside your mouth, like he wants to mark every corner; imprint himself in you. You've never wanted anything, hell, anyone more. The kiss leaves you hanging, heart racing at the closeness of his face and the warmhearted feeling of his lips on yours, like pieces of a puzzle fitting together.

"There you go" he chuckles, enamoured at the sight of your puffy lips. "Now it's my turn"

He's quick to get rid of the jeans and belt (oh well, it'll be another day) until he's over you, just wearing his boxers.

You'd never seen Joel naked before, why would you? But there's a vague memory of hot summer days, trying to survive the heat in the town's pool, just as the rest. He was there, eye candy for the mothers and horny teens. You hadn't understand back then, when he was all muscle, but you do know, where the mighty strenght is still hidden there, somewhere between his sturdy arms and chest as soft as his belly, round as it pushes above the only piece of cloth that forbids you to see his dick. His chest is full of hair, and God, you feel so dirty wanting to bury your face in the sweat drenched patch.

"Stop lookin' at me like that" he teases, but there is a small voice of insecurity hiding its undertones beneath his smirk under your stare.

"You're so fucking hot, Joel" comes out before you can stop it, now mouth acting up on its own.

Fuck, he thinks, he's too far gone. There's no point of return.

Your eager fingers pull down the underwear, fingers grazing the softness of his length. You slowly grabs his dick as he comes closer, never seeing anything as big and provoking as it. That makes you tighten your grip on his dick, which stands proud and tall, leaking precum, and the muscles of his thighs strain against his skin. 

He positions himself between your legs again.

"Let's put this big bad boy to use, huh?"

He grunts at your words, large hands finding your thighs for support, as he caresses up and down the skin littered with marks and kisses.

Joel pushes in. Just his tip, yet your mouth falls open at how large he already feels, and you tighten your hold on his neck.

"Tell me if it hurts" all softness on his eyes, his forehead falling against yours, as if he hadn't been punishing you just minutes ago. Your heart races at the gesture, tender meeting the rough of his edges.

The real question isn't asked, but you're on the pill and you trust him. You just want to fill him inside of you, all of him.

"I will, Mr. Miller"

He slams all the way in. You let out a broken sound, quickly muffled by his palm as he stays buried deep inside of you, givimg you time to adjust to his size. It burns, but you enjoy the way the pain feels. He slowly pulls out, before pushing all the way in again. Your slick folds take him, and he grunts, supporting his aching body by the forehead against yours one more time.

"So tight, sweetheart. Ain't nobody ruinin' this pussy but me" his growl comes out possesive as Joel establishes a steady rhythm. You softly moan as he keeps moving, pounding into you, hitting a spot no one had before, making you see stars. It gets harder to stay quiet, but Joel caputres every little sound that comes out of you in a kiss, as if that way he could preserve them better and forever.

You wrap your legs tight around him, keeping him close as your walls clench around him, his thrusts harder yet slower as he keeps going, ramming into you.

"Look at you, coatin' my dick like a fuckin' meltin' ice cream" he gently pushes it again between your folds, rubbing his dick on your clit. "So fuckin' wet, for me"

His lips are slightly parted and his eyes looked all fogged up, lost in the fire, thrusts becoming sloppier as he too feels it coming.

"So fuckin' pretty" drips from his mouth, and there's the stars in your eyes and the light you insist he's always had, even if he'd prefere the darkness. "The prettiest girl in the world with the sweetest pussy, givin' it all to this ol' perverted fuck"

The words and his big dick inside of you makes your eyes flutter shut on instinct.

"Don't sleep on me, baby" he coos, a hand brushing damp hair from your face. You recognize the look: the same in the car, on the balcony and on the poarch of his house, after letting the years go by. Back then, you thought you had dreamed it, but now that the secret saccharine sweetness reveals herself as he slams into you, you know it was real.

This is real.

You meet his gaze again and try to hold it as he pounds you so gently yet so rough, trying to show him without words that whatever this wrong and sick feeling was, you felt the same.

"Such'a good girl, takin' me so well" Joel grunts, slamming to the hilt. "Fuck, sweetheart, I'm gonna-"

His dick twitches inside of you, walls spasming around his cock as your pussy takes it all, milking him dry.

"Take it all, like the good girl you are"

Both of you pant, and it takes him a while to realize the sun is raising again until its rays hurt his eyesight.

He's about to tell you how this shouldn't be, how he, at such an old age shouldn't be pinning for his daughter's friend: so young, sweet and loud-mouthed. No matter if you felt the same, or if your body was marked in and out by him, No, because wanting isn't enough, and no tide could wash away his sins from the shore.

"Listen, y/n-" your name like he has never said it before: no scold, no malice nor lust. Just a softness he hadn't felt in years, asleep under thick layers of cold.

But your soft snores fill the silence between the beats of his heart.

tags: @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @pedrosgrogu thank you sm for reading! hope u enjoy it :)

[nope-body]

.

[yellowharrington]

save a horse (ride a cowboy!) -- joel miller x reader

pairing + fandom: joel miller x reader, the last of us (hbo)

word count: 3.9k

warnings/notes: smut and porn!!! minors DNI, 18+!!! no outbreak!au. she/her pronouns used, afab!reader (with mentions of body parts), no use of y/n. age gap (joel is at least 10 years older). drinking (both reader and joel), unprotected PIV, oral (f receiving), spanking, dirty talk, car sex. if i missed anything lmk!

a/n: recommended listening: save a horse (ride a cowboy) by big & rich. honourable mention to austin by dasha bc it's been on repeat. please take the time to leave comments/reblog if you liked it <3 thank u for reading!! divider by @cafekitsune

summary: meeting an older man at the bar and spontaneously fucking him in his truck was not on your list of things to do for your first summer back in austin, but what can you do?

You hate going dancing.

Sweaty clubs with bodies brushing up against one another, sticky with the hot summer heat, confined to the walls of a crowded bar and beer sticking to the bottom of your shoes. Not the way you plan to spend your first Saturday night back in Austin for the summer, but Maddy is so convincing, your hand clasped around yours, a pleading look in her eyes. 

“I promise. It’s so fun. We’ll invite Kaylee and Erin and it’ll be a whole thing.”

You rolled your eyes at her, slipping your hand out from between hers. “Fine. One drink, one dance.”

She squealed with excitement and clapped her hands together, stepping up from the small cafe table. “We can pregame at mine. Wear that black top you have.”

You nod, thinking of the top in question. A corseted black thing that didn’t leave much to the imagination, breasts spilling out of the stop beneath the tight stitching. You think it probably got shoved to the back of your closet somewhere.

~

Joel hates going dancing.

Well, he doesn’t hate dancing. He just isn’t good at it, and hasn’t gone since his very early twenties. And he certainly would not be interested in spending the evening with Tommy at a country bar in downtown Austin, surrounded by women who would grimace at a pair of old men taking up a table.

But Tommy is convincing, hands gesturing around him annoyingly, until Joel gives in. “Fine. One drink. Then I’m leavin’.”

“This city is swarming with beautiful women,” Tommy says, knocking back another sip of his hot coffee. “And you’re too holed up inside to meet any of ‘em.”

“I like my own company,” Joel starts, bringing his own coffee mug to the sink. “Some of us are happy by ourselves.”

Tommy snorts, a hand clapping onto Joel’s shoulder. “Keep tellin’ yourself that, big shot. We’ll see when there’s a bunch of hotties in front of ya, then you can tell me that you like being alone.”

Joel gags at his use of the word ‘hotties’, and pulls his work boots on. “I can still change my mind, ya know.”

~ 

Night falls over the suburbs of Austin, taking the sunshine but leaving the humid, sweet heat in the air. You’re surrounded by your friends at Maddy’s apartment, a light pink gloss swiping across your lips. You’ve managed to dig out the top she had mentioned earlier, tied in a tight bow at the back. Your dark jeans hit just below it, letting slivers of smooth skin show, which somehow seemed sluttier than the fact your boobs were practically falling out of the top. Your jeans outlined the plump curve of your ass, a pair of dark cowboy boots adorning your calves. The last time you’d dressed like this was a long time ago, so it felt a little foreign, but not uncomfortable.

The cab ride to the bar is eventful, with 4 girls singing along to the songs on the radio at the top of your lungs. You were already a drink or two deep, having done some brightly coloured shot at Maddy’s house, taking it without thinking. You still weren’t planning on doing anything insane tonight, and bar drinks were expensive, so this was probably the best it was going to get for you.

The car pulls up to the bar and waits for you all to pour out, flashing your IDs to the bouncer, sliding inside past the thrums of people already inside. The bar was almost full, dance floor packed, drinks being poured by every bartender. Neon signs and amber lamps served as the only lighting for the establishment, already making things feel fuzzy around the edges for you.

Joel sits at a rickety wooden table in the corner of the bar with Tommy, scratching the wet label off of his beer bottle. He had fished out a plaid t-shirt from his closet, his usual jeans taught across his thighs and a pair of nicer boots than his work ones on his feet. His hair was pushed back, curls still lapping at the nape of his neck and curves of his ear. He was noticeably older than the other patrons of the bar, painfully aware of that fact, he felt rather uncomfortable. Tommy didn’t seem to mind, feet tapping at the beer-washed hardwood. “Stop lookin’ so mad,” he remarks, close to Joel’s ear. “You’ll scare ‘em all away.”

There are groups of people pouring in from outside, bachelorette parties and frat boys, making Joel feel unbelievably out of place. It was hard to lighten up when he wasn’t sure exactly what he was doing here.

The doors open once more, your group of friends pushing their way through the sea of people, hand in hand. Joel notices, one girl in a cowboy hat, one in denim jean cutoffs, one with a big belt buckle that glints pink against the light. 

Then he notices you.

His face softens as you follow behind your friends, as they push to the front of the line for a drink. He’s got 10 years on you, easy, but that doesn’t stop his cock twitching against the zipper of his suddenly too-tight jeans.

Soft curves, a top that fits you just right, and jeans that accentuate the dips and lines of your body. You’ve got warm energy, a bright smile adorning your glossed lips. 

You barely even notice him, until you turn around and make eye contact, your shining eyes meeting his. He’s too handsome for his own good, biceps and shoulders pressed tight against the sleeves of his shirt. He’s got his thighs spread across the chair he’s sitting in, towards you, almost like he wants you to come and just sit right on his lap.

You offer a small smile across the dim bar, taking your drink and following your friends to the last open table they’d spotted. A high top, back to the stranger now, giving him the opportunity to see your shape. He swears you’re sticking your ass out on purpose, so he can see the soft skin where your jeans meet the bottom of your top. 

“Joel,” Tommy’s voice cuts through the bustle of the bar. “If you’re gonna be so fuckin’ miserable, we can go. There’s another place-“

Joel stops him, teetering his beer towards his brother. “This is fine. We can stay for another round.”

~ 

You pull yourself away from the group after finishing your round of sugary drinks and shots, your head beginning to buzz. “I’ll get the next ones,” you giggle, pushing yourself out of your seat and steadying yourself on the ground. “Green tea shots?” The girls hoot and holler back to you, as you turn on your heels towards the crowded bar. 

Joel gets up, almost looking panicked, when he sees that you’re leaving your group. He downs the rest of his beer and tips his head towards Tommy, as if to ask, “another?”. Tommy nods and sits back in his chair, continuing to observe. Joel makes a beeline, able to slide right beside you in line.

You can smell the cologne and laundry detergent on his clothes while he stands behind you, shuffling on his feet. You can almost feel his nerves, radiating off of his large form. 

He can smell your perfume and shampoo, it’s intoxicating. 

Joel is served first, the bartender leaning forward to listen to his request. “Two Buds, and uh,” you feel a soft hand on your shoulder. If you couldn’t see that it was him, someone would have a black eye.

“What are you drinkin’, darlin’?”

His voice is sweet like honey as he dips down to be so unbelievably close to your ear, his hand now on the side of your arm. Heat spreads up your neck at his proximity. 

“Oh, I’m getting like 4 shots, you don’t have to-“

“What kinda shots?”

“Uh, green tea. Green tea shots.”

“And four green tea shots.”

The bartender nods as Joel slides his cash across the bar, turning, and looking down at you slightly. You feel impossibly small in that moment.

“You really did not have to do that, thank you.” You’re on your tip toes, a hand pressed against his chest now, lips as close to his ear as you can get. 

He shivers. He can’t remember the last time someone was this close to him in this way. 

“No problem,” he waves it off, taking the two beers by the neck of the bottle and moving over slightly for you to grab the shots. 

Your ass brushes across the front of his jeans, and he knows it’s intentional.

“Thanks again for the drinks,” and you’ve disappeared back into the crowd in a second.

Oh. Nevermind.

He can’t help but feel a little dejected, slinking back to his seat with Tommy and passing him his beer. “Struck out, huh?”

“Shut up.”

Joel watches your table still, annoyed, but not entirely surprised. Pretty stupid of him to think you’d want to fraternize with a man such as himself, so much older than you. Maybe he’d come off too strong?

His head is all but hanging in his hands when he watches you get up again, your friends coming along with you. He averts his eyes in embarrassment, not noticing that you’re making your way over to his table.

Tommy notices.

“Ladies!” He draws out, hands thrown up in the air. Joel looks up then, locking in eyes with you immediately.

“Didn’t think I’d leave you hanging, did ya cowboy?” A smile tugs at his lips as you extend a hand to him. “After you were so nice?”

He laughs a little, your other friend taking a hold of Tommy and pulling him towards the crowded dance floor. He’s very easily persuaded.

“Come dance with me!”

“Oh, I’m not a dancer,” he laughs, warm and honeyed. It makes heat pool in your core.

“Neither am I. Come anyways.”

All he can do is obey, taking your hand and letting you lead him away from the table. 

~

The music pulses under your feet as you end up in a tight line, shoulder to shoulder. He can’t stop looking at you, leaning down to speak into your ear. 

“I wasn’t kiddin’ when I said I didn’t know how to dance,” he explains, and his breath is hot against the curve of your ear.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get it when we start goin’. Just follow me.”

And I saddle up my horse

And I ride into the city

I make a lot of noise

Cause the girls

They are so pretty

Joel’s eyes are parked on your body as you start to move along to the steps of the line dance, feet tapping against the hard wood of the floor beneath you. Your hands are up by your face, clapping along to the beat. He tries to follow along, at least stepping in the right direction, clapping at the right time, but it’s no use.

Your body is insatiable - hips rolling to the pounding music. The curves and lines of your ass, paired with the soft tissue of your breasts nearly busting out of the top you chose to wear. Your skin is supple, shining against the dance floor lights that are favouring him right now as he lets a red blush engulf the skin of his cheeks and neck. 

He wonders what it looks like underneath, peeled off and bunched up around your ankles, or thrown on the floor of his bedroom. He thinks of fingering the ties of your shirt, loosening them and pushing it off, his hand across the front of your throat as he makes you look at yourself. How pretty you are. Goosebumps spread across the exposed skin of his arm.

You grab his hand suddenly, and he’s taken out of his daydream. Your eyes are fiery as you let yourself get even closer to him, feeling bold enough to put his hand across the small of your back.

“Follow me,” you command, as he looks down at the footwork you’re doing along to the song.

Riding up and down Broadway

On my old stud Leroy

And the girls say

Save a horse, ride a cowboy!

He attempts to follow it again, egged on by the feeling of your hot skin against his thumb. He could honestly maybe cum just from this touch alone if he really tried.

It’s not actually as hard as he thought, if he concentrates. A few steps, repeated over and over again, until it comes naturally. You notice how easily he picks it up, smiling up at him, beaming up while he’s lost in thought. 

The song picks up, and the whole floor is enthralled by the dance. You see Joel’s smile light up the room, and he hasn’t dared to move his hand from your back. You don’t mind.

When your body turns toward his, he halts before almost running into you, still following the steps along to the song.

“Do you wanna get out of here?”

Your words take him by surprise, but they are not unwelcome. 

“Yes.” His hand envelops yours as he takes a look at Tommy, seeing that he’s still in the throws of the song with your friends.

Your hand leads him off the dance floor and towards the club bathroom, but he stops you, lips close to your ear again. “My truck is parked out back, if we want, a little more, um,” he clears his throat, “privacy.”

“Show me the way,” you smile, letting him pull you out the doors and into the darkness of the parking lot. 

He fishes for his keys nervously when you get to the side of his truck, an older model with blue paint. He can’t remember the last time he did anything like this, if he ever has, and it’s getting to his head.

“Let’s get in the back seat,” you say, taking him out of his trance. “Wanna feel you.”

He lets you in first, pushing across the bench seating as he slides in beside you. There’s a moment of awkwardness, before your hand reaches out to touch his denim-clad thigh. His breath hitches.

“Relax,” your smile is intoxicating to him, and he’s drinking you in. “We’re just here to have a little fun.”

He lets himself lurch forward, your lips pressed against his fervently. They’re rough and chapped, but cold from the beer he’d been nursing earlier, offering you some reprieve. 

Your hand snakes up his chest to the side of his throat, pulling him in to come closer and delve deeper. His tongue comes out to lick across your teeth and press against the soft wetness of your tongue, as his hand comes up to palm your breasts over your top, grabbing at any flesh he can get his fingers on. 

He quickly and deftly finds the bow Maddy had tied on the back, pulling it loose and letting the fabric relax so you he could pull it off of your form.

His hands began to explore the soft skin of your breasts, sucking a nipple into his mouth as you arch into him and let a strained moan come from your lips.

“Fuck,” is all you can think to say, because his large hands are spread across your back, forcing you closer, and into him. Soft moans escape your lips as you let him take what he needs from you.

“Off,” he commands suddenly, hooking his fingers into the belt loops of your jeans and yanking them down, after you pop the button and undo the zipper. Your boots have come off at some point in the tussle, and now you’re naked in the back seat of a stranger’s car with not much to say for yourself.

You push his flannel down his shoulders as his weight hovers over you, revealing how strong he really is. Rippling biceps beneath his tight shirt, strong chest, kind eyes. 

You’re lying beneath him, when his hands come up under your thighs to push them apart and expose your pussy to him. He kneels between your soft thighs, thankful for the dark night sky around him, as he delves into your heat with his warm tongue.

You see stars when he makes first contact, a broad stripe of his tongue sending you into space. He’s hungry for it, immediately suckling onto your clit and wrapping his lips around it, strong hands still pushing your thighs apart. He’s taking his time to taste you, wild and intricate, feeling the bulge in his jeans strain against the zipper.

“Oh, fuck,” you manage to get out, in between breathless moans. Your hand came down to tangle in his hair, feeling the soft locks between your fingers, enjoying the way he’s making your hips roll onto his face. You can’t help but rut against him, soaking his wet mouth with your slick, using him to get yourself off.

He’s moaning into your pussy, working his own now-free cock in one of his hands, while the other delves two fingers into your core. Your breath catches in your throat when he fills you, stretching you open and wide for him, hitting the perfect spot to make your stomach start to spasm as you threatened to unravel beneath him.

“Fuck, so good, so so good,” you laugh breathlessly, the ecstasy beginning to take over as he continued to work your pussy, and you felt the familiar white-hot feeling along the back of your thighs.

“I’m gonna, — oh my god,” you couldn’t even finish your sentence before he was tonguing at you harder, eyes flickering up to watch you. “I’m gonna fucking come.”

“Good girl,” he growls into you, only offering you momentary reprieve from his tongue before using the rest of his energy to help you ride out your orgasm on his face. Your hips bucked and spasmed against him, the windows fogging up with your hot breath as you fucked yourself on his fingers. He let you pull on his hair as moans tumbled from your lips, breathless and spent.

When you managed to come down, he took his fingers from inside you and pumped his cock a few times, now bobbing in between the two of you as he slid himself up your body to kiss up your chest and capture your soft lips into a kiss.

“Sit back,” you whispered, pushing on his chest to bring him back sitting upright. His jeans were pooled around his ankles now, and you had pulled his t-shirt over his head to meet the other clothes on the floor of the truck. You positioned yourself across his lap, pumping his cock a few times and feeling the girth around your fingers.

He looked blissed out, head against the headrest, savouring the feeling of your pretty hand around him. If he looked down between your two bodies he might come right then, at the sight. 

“You did so much work, baby,” you coo, sitting down on his thick cock and bottoming out immediately, just to watch his lips fall open and eyes flutter close at how tight you are. “Made me cum so easy.”

Your lips latch onto his neck as you kiss and lap at the rough skin, letting your hips rock back and forth, slowly at first. Getting used to his length inside of you would’ve been tough if he hadn’t opened you up so easily beforehand. 

“Move,” his hands come to your waist, lightly forcing you to grind down on his lap. His cock was hitting inside of you so perfectly as you swallowed him into your body, looking down as his head lulled back against the seat. “So fuckin’ pretty,” he started, letting you set the pace of your hips, hand coming up to paw at your breast once more.

“You like this cock, don’t you?” You nod, letting your hand come to the seat behind his head and steadying yourself before beginning to bounce in his lap. “Yeah, fuck, yeah I do.”

He’s in his element now, any and all shyness from the newness of the situation melting away as he pounded into you mercilessly. The truck was no doubt shaking back and forth a little, a steadying hand print the only window to the outside world. Joel didn’t even care if people could see, they’d just be jealous.

“I’m gonna, fuck-,” he starts, eyes cloudy at the edges, vision fuzzy as he looked up at you. You were fucked out, cock-drunk on him, watching as he was coming undone underneath you as you squeezed around him. “Oh yeah?” You tease, not letting up on the rhythm of your hips, his hand coming down to your ass in a firm slap.

You moaned then, arching your back into him and sitting back. “Where do you want me?”

He’s desperate to cum now. Even the thought of your pretty face beneath him, taking his hot ropes on your soft pink lips is making him jerk forward into you with need.

He pushes you off, and you wince from the loss of contact. He’s fisting his cock above you right away, pink tip ready to explode any second at the sight of you, tits pressed together. Your mouth is open, and he sticks his fingers in between your lips as you moan around them, tasting yourself.

“Cum all over me,” you start, pinching your nipples with your free hand. “Fuck, I want it.”

It’s enough for his knees to buckle and hot cum to shoot all over your stomach and tits, painting you white with his seed. His eyes squeeze shut as you watch him ride his orgasm out, balls emptying onto you as he slows down and regains consciousness, taking a second to drink you in when he can open his eyes again. 

Your breath is heaving as you take a finger to swipe some of his cum onto your finger, dipping the digit into your mouth. His brows furrow together as he pulls you up to kiss your lips, devouring you, hands coming up to each side of your face as if to thank you for such a good time.

“Been a while since I did anything like that,” he laughs, and you follow shyly. “You got like, a napkin?” You giggle, as he grabs something in the front seat for you to clean up with. “Thanks. That was fun.”

He nods in agreement, catching his breath before pulling his t-shirt over his head. “I suppose we should go back in there,” he checks his appearance in the rearview mirror, all blushed and fucked out. 

You put your top back on over your body, turning towards him. “Can you lace me back up, please?”

His hands begin to work at you, tightening a bow at the bottom much like it had been done before.

A thought crossed your mind that made a giggle escape your lips. “What?” Joel asked, amused, pulling his jeans back on over his hips. 

“I don’t think I ever got your name.”

He laughs too, thinking of the events that had transpired given neither of you knew such a basic piece of information. 

“I guess we can stick with cowboy.”

[natalievoncatte]

Lena tipped back the last of her scotch and savored it, letting the smooth, piquant insistence of it roll across her tongue and sting between her teeth. She’d poured herself three fingers of a thirty year old single malt from the Macallan and had tasted it every drop, letting it stay a while. Indeed she’d indulged so slowly that she was barely buzzed.

A distant memory struck her. The sting of heavy smoke in her mouth, acrid and unpleasant but as rich and complex in flavor as her single malts. The effect was ruined by her idiotic decision to breath it in rather than allow a brief visitation in her mouth before being set free into the night air. She had been thirteen and Lex had given her a puff on a cigar he’d stolen from their father’s humidor while he and Lillian were away.

“This is a Dominican,” he’d told her. “I’ll give you a Cuban when you have enough experience to appreciate it.”

She turned the glass in her hand before setting it in the sink. She thought of Lex almost every day- not the raving, incoherent loon who’d tied her to the chair or the bitter shell of a man he was when she fired five bullets into his chest, but the boy he was, about to go off to college, full of adolescent bravado that matched his genius. She thought of the man he might have been if he hadn’t let his base jealousy consume him, if he’d had enough empathy to follow a better path. Her path.

It was a hard one to walk, but-

There was a tap at her balcony door and she nearly jumped out of her skin, wheeling.

It was Kara.

Lena motioned for her to open the door and she did, stepping inside.

“Can you ever use the inside door like a normal person?”

Kara shrugged. “I went for a fly to clear my head and I ended up here.”

Lena sighed. “I was just heading to bed, darling. It’s late. Too late to watch cartoons on my couch.”

“Will you fly with me?”

Lena quirked a brow. “You know it’s not any fun for me. I really do hate flying.”

“I know but, I was just… would you?”

Lena looked at her. Kara looked back, her eyes soft, expression hopeful and fearful, inviting. It made Lena fight the urges that dogged her. She felt a need to stride across the distance between them and tuck away a few wind-tossed locks of Kara’s hair, cup a warm hand to her cool cheek, soothe the pain that always seemed to hide in her eyes, like the reflection of something dark in the gloss of a family photo.

“Okay.”

She got her jacket first to protect herself against the night chill, then wondered how to do this. She was used to Kara flying her, but it was usually after being caught from a fall or scooped from danger and whisked to safety. Casually flying hadn’t really been their thing.

She settled on looping her arms about Kara’s neck.

She hesitated. “Lena, are you sure? Your heart is beating pretty fast.”

“You won’t drop me?”

“Never.”

Lena nodded and Kara swept her arms under Lena, one arm under her knees, the other curled around her waist. Of course it was effortless- for Kara, raising a cement mixer over her head was effortless. She stepped up to the railing of the balcony and paused when Lena tensed.

Lena closed her eyes as Kara stepped into empty air. She realized that she didn’t know how Kryptonians fly; she suspected Kara didn’t know either. It just happened.

Lena kept her eyes shut. Kara flew, holding her gently but firmly. If not for the wind buffeting her, Lena wouldn’t have known she was hundreds of feet in the air.

Finally she felt the soft impact of Kara’s boots on the ground and opened her eyes as Kara lowered her to her feet.

“Where are we?”

Lena looked around. They were in a baseball diamond, probably for little league games, in a small park.

“The suburbs. No one bothers me at night if I stop here. It’s a good place to think.”

Kara walked over to the bleachers and sat down. She looked so forlorn, so terribly sad, and Lena quickly sat beside her.

Kara didn’t speak. She saw the slight tremor of Lena’s restrained shiver, and without a word unclasped her cape and swept it around Lena.

“Thanks,” said Lena. “This makes a good blanket.”

Kara smiled. “That is a blanket. Kal… Clark’s birth parents, my aunt and uncle, sent it with him to Earth. Martha made it part of his first suit. The one she made.”

Lena stared at her for a moment. She rarely spoke of her cousin, and when she did, it had an odd, detached tone to it. A kind of resentment. She sounded fond now, and familiar. Lena knew who he was, of course; once she knew who Kara was, deducing who her cousin was turned out to be a simple thing. Yet Kara had never dropped his name so casually in conversation. It was intimate. Familiar.

“Speaking of Clark,” said Kara. “He sent me a message today. He’s staying on Argo with Lois and their child. He’s not coming home.”

Kara caught herself, eyes wide. Lena waited, holding a tense breath.

“Kara, what is it?”

“I can’t remember when I started thinking of Earth as home,” said Kara. “Just like I can’t remember when I started thinking in English instead of translating my thoughts.”

Lena poked an arm out of the cape to rest a hand on Kara’s shoulder.

“You’re thinking about joining them.”

Kara looked down. “I almost did before, but I was needed here. I don’t feel needed so much anymore. There’s so many more heroes now- Bruce has a whole team he’s built, and there’s Diana now and of course Barry and Oliver and… they can handle a lot of it. I don’t even put the suit on every day anymore.”

Lena felt a terrible, frigid chill. Colder than the night, colder than death. She looked at Kara, really looked at her, lit by lamplight, a golden beauty in the dark. She was so hauntingly, achingly beautiful. Lena could still remember the feeling when she saw Kara for the first time in her office, how her face must have betrayed her. My God, who is this?

“Are you thinking about going?”

“Maybe. I’m not sure. I don’t know what to do. My people need every Kryptonian to come home and rebuild our culture and way of life. I have a sacred duty.”

Lena met her gaze levelly, feeling undone by it. Kara’s eyes were soft, full of an aching, unasked question.

“You keep talking about being needed, about duty,” Lena said. “The whole time I’ve known you it’s been about oaths and obligations and responsibilities. What do you want, Kara? What is your heart’s desire? Whatever it is, if you ask me, you deserve it. Whatever debt you think you owe the universe, you’ve paid it back in full with interest and gratuities.”

Kara looked away. “I know what I want, but I’m scared to ask for it.”

“I’ve never known you to be scared of anything.”

“I’m scared of being hurt. I’m scared of hurting someone else. What if I’m wrong? I’ve always been wrong about this one thing. I don’t want to lose you by asking the wrong question.”

Me? Lena thought. Why would…

Lena’s heart raced anew. The shock felt like she’d spilled cold water from her heart, racing down her limbs. She felt as heavy as stone and as light as a feather, and the flutter in her belly made her regret the scotch.

“I don’t want to go,” Kara sighed. “This is my home now. Krypton… Krypton is gone and it probably should be. I hope Clark can show the survivors a better way. There were a lot of things my people did wrong.”

“Kara, you can’t go. Okay? You can’t. You are needed here. I need you.”

Kara turned abruptly, eyes wide.

“Why did you wait so long?” Lena whispered.

“After everything I did, I… I was as afraid. I hurt you so much, caused you so much pain. Why would you…”

“Because you get so excited when you land on Park Place,” said Lena. “Because you sing to yourself when no one is looking. Because you’re bored to tears watching documentaries with me but you do it anyway. Because you always flex your muscles when you pop a cork from a bottle. Because you save me and cherish me and treat me like a queen, and you always have. Yes, Kara, you hurt me, but no one is perfect. I’m just as guilty.”

“What do you want, Lena? What’s your hearts desire?”

“I think you already know that and you’re just too scared to admit it.”

Kara swallowed, hard.

“Stay with me. Choose me,” said Lena.

“Can I kiss you?”

“I seriously thought you’d never ask,” said Lena.

Kara tilted in close. Sitting on the old faded wood of the bleachers with a blanket around her, she felt so young. She hadn’t been this giddy about a kiss since middle school. No; she’s never been this giddy ever, not a day in her life. Kara’s lips touched hers and despite the chasteness of it, she let out a soft moan.

Kara took it as an invitation and the kiss deepened, and she slipped under the blanket so they were both wrapped in it and her arms found Lena’s waist. When she tucked her head under Kara’s chin and pressed into her arms, she felt so safe, so sheltered. It was perfect, like finally finding home, and they were still there when the sun found them and Kara carried her into the morning sky.

[starkeyisthelastname]

Stepbro!rafe holding his babygirl to his chest because she woke up crying in the middle of the night and reader is just waking up and is already trying to get the milk ready for their daughter and then when she gets back from the kitchen after preparing the baby's bottle she hears him say something like 'yeah that's right, we'll all move out of here, me, your mom, and you. All of us, we're gonna move out into the suburbs or some shit and just live happily ever after or something. Just for you, baby, just for you' and he's bouncing her lightly trying to comfort her and reader just admires his effort for a moment before giving him the bottle as she just rests her head on his shoulder for minute with her baby in rafe's hands and knowing what he wants from her 🥹😭

You quietly but hurriedly walked up the stairs of Tannyhill, warm bottle in hand, eyes half open from lack of sleep. Making your way to the cracked door of the nursery, you paused from the soft voice you were hearing. Your eyes caught in the small light of the lamp, Rafe holding your previously crying baby girl to his chest. You could see his tall frame, standing in the middle of the room, bare feet on the fluffy pink carpet as plaid pajama pants hugged his toned hips.

“Yeah, no need to cry, kid.” His usual dark tone, softer.

Sometimes you wanted to hate how handsome your step-brother was. His longer hair now gone it being shaved into a buzzcut, which you had to admit brought out his features. His chest was broad, looking massive compared to the tiny baby he held.

“We are gonna get off of the island. You, me, and your mama. Get a nice big house on the mainland. I'm gonna marry her too. Make your mama my wife.” He spoke to the baby girl, who of course didn't understand a word he was saying. The truth behind it, being pretty messed up.

The little girl’s cries had now calmed, the voice of her father helping her calm down. You admired Rafe’s effort, especially when he could only be a father behind closed doors. Even though situation was more than wrong and you were naive to your step-brothers’s corruption towards you, now you were a mother and you wanted your daughter to have a relationship with her father.

Slowly padding into the room, your eyes met sea blue ones. You smiled softly, handing him the bottle of milk. Your arms then wrapped around his front, you being shorter against his muscled back. You peered at your daughter in his arms, her baby blue eyes closing as she sucked down her bottle. While there were parts that resembled you, she was truly all Rafe’s. She was beautiful and no matter how wrong this was, you wanted everything he had spoken of.

“You start that lovey shit, I might put another baby in you.” Rafe whispered, turning his head to gaze down at you, knowing smirk on his face.

[yellowwwcrayon]

suburban neighbors AU

I want to do an AU where Wade moves into a gated community and spots his new neighbor outside, drinking beer and mowing his lawn in a sweaty tank top and booty shorts; and the little old ladies across the street sees him gawking and pulls Wade aside to tell him Logan is the resident homewrecker, like he's broken up two marriages already (Jean and Scott and Eric and Charles). None can withstand his slutty ways, so he should stay away if he wants to survive with his relationships intact. Wade's like, "well, lucky for him, I am painfully single."

Basically, I just want to write Logan being so unintentionally sexy that he wrecks marriages with his mere existence in the vanilla-ass suburbs and Wade simping for him and talking through his weird feelings with his walking group gal pals whose average age is 68 years young. Yes, Al is in that walking group and she fucking hates listening to him talk about his man crush but there are no other walking groups in the neighborhood and she was there first.

“Are you ok?” 

“No,” Wade was shaking from head to toe, “I went over there to yell at him for blocking our shared driveway, but he answered the door in a slutty little towel and I think I blacked out.” 

Ellie raised an eyebrow. “Did you really?” 

“Either that or I asked to suck his cock,” He poured himself a tall glass of water from the tap and gulped it down. Wade wiped his mouth on the back of a hand and exhaled, “God, I hope it was the former.” 

Loud aggressive banging came from the front door then. 

“Shit.” 

“Yeah, I’d put my money on the verbal sexual harassment. Want me to grab my baseball bat?” 

“What am I gonna do with your baseball bat?” 

“Fuck him up.”

“I want to fuck him, not fuck him up. There’s a difference, child. Pay attention.”

[beanbagstab]

Short Sonamy IDW Fanfic thingy:

Introspection/ Realization of feelings / Slight Angst/Sonic centric

Sonic would never admit it, but he has been in love with Amy practically since the moment he had laid eyes on her- though he hadn’t realized that until recently.

He didn’t understand Amy or the way she made him feel. At first, he just thought all girls were like that, weird beings who stir you up inside with their feminine charm but no. After he grew older, met more people- more girls- he realized these feelings only emerged around Amy. After he sorted all that out he decided it was best to avoid her (and these weird feelings) whenever he could. 

After all, he already knew what romance was like. Boy meets girl, they hit it off, girl asks boy for dates and marriage, boy proposes, they marry and move into the suburbs where they watch over their two kids before boy heads off to his 9 to 5 and girl stays back to cook dinner, they grow old, retire, die, and get buried in some nearby graveyard without traveling or adventures or fighting world destroying enemies. 

As far as he was concerned, if Amy had her way, they’d be on a one-way road to a dead-end life. And Sonic hated the Idea of that more than anything. 

So when Amy suddenly grabbed him by his hands and declared she never wanted him to change and wouldn’t want to force him to stay at HQ, he felt something swell within his chest. He stared at her dumbfounded. Huh? Did he hear that right? Was this really Amy, the same girl who would chase him down for miles begging him to marry her?  Before he could get a word out another thought crossed his mind. Had she just said ‘I love you’ to his face? She had said it so casually he had almost missed it. 

He didn’t know what to say to her. Sonic couldn’t speak so freely about his emotions the way Amy seemed able to, so he opted to reciprocate in his own- less direct way. 

He backed up slightly, scratching his nose and turning his head to hide the smile that was creeping up his face. “ You know, you could come with me if you wanted.”

He had offered the same preposition to Tails not too long ago yet, when asking Amy there was an air of awkwardness to it. He was unpracticed when it came to the matters of his heart so expressing these desires felt foreign on his selfless tongue. 

He won’t deny he was a bit upset when she declined, but that was quickly replaced with warmth as he saw the determination in her eyes. She had a job to do that not even Sonic the Hedgehog could pull her away from. To him, it was as if she was saying, ‘I won’t be tied down to you either.’ And the thought of that set his heart ablaze. 

Amy had Sonic’s heart tied around her finger-not that he would ever tell her that but with the way she acted around him, Sonic was sure that some way somehow, she already knew. 

.

.

.

Sonic caught himself sneaking glances at Amy far more often than he’d be comfortable admitting but could you blame him? He hadn’t seen any of his friends for 6 months and Amy was one of his closest. He figured that must be all it was. He missed his friends dearly while he was gone so it makes sense he was feeling a bit mushy. 

But then again, it seemed to be only around Amy did he feel this strongly. 

When she spoke, he found himself hanging onto the last word she said. When she looked at him, he felt himself bask in her attention. And when they were alone, an increasingly rare scenario given the busy nature of HQ, he covetted the intimate way she relaxed in his presence. 

She was so tense as the leader of the resistance and the restoration. He couldn’t recall a time he’d seen the ever-cheery Amy Rose so restrained and subdued. He didn’t like it one bit.

Eye bags and a caffeine addiction didn’t suit her. At least not the her he knew half a year ago. 

He tried not to think about it but, a lot of his friends seemed different; a little wiser, shoulders a bit broader, and a lot more tired. And Amy seemed the most different of them all. He noticed a distinct lack of hugs and dreamy lovey dovey rants. The best way he could put it would be that she seemed more… mature? At least, she was acting in a way a child might believe a mature adult might act. 

Sonic couldn’t help but feel as if she was putting up some kind of act for everyone. Like, she needed to change for people to take her seriously. But could he blame her? No one really took her seriously before- not until she took out her hammer at least. But momentary fear and respect are not the same thing.

Still, he hated seeing her in such a state. A rose deserved to be basking in the sun and swaying in the wind, not withering away in front of a dozen buzzing monitors.  

So he made it a point to invite her out on missions whenever she could afford herself to be stolen away. 

And that's what their mission to the mines should’ve been. Just an easy excuse to take his crush out of that stuffy office. 

But one thing led to another and the next thing he knew, he couldn’t even offer a shoulder for her to lean on.

.

.

.

If Amy seemed depressed before the metal virus, she was down right miserable now. But honestly, he wasn’t doing much better himself. He could barely sleep and needed to be on the move constantly, lest the virus spread further and further through his exhausted body. 

Before he was infected, he never noticed how often the two would exchange little touches. From the shoulder holds he would offer in consolation, to lingering touch in the place their fingers overlapped for just a few seconds too long when he needed to pass something to her.

There had just been too many close calls where he had reached out to hold her before he caught himself and quickly pulled back in embarrassment. He wanted to be close to her so bad he was absentmindedly putting the entire operation at risk. 

After he realized that, he decided it was best he kept his distance.

Best for Amy, best for the resistance, and best for his heart. 

[shapelytimber]

Wanted to paint some of my favorite characters, nothing more nothing less

[COMMISSIONS]

Way too much yapping like an embarrassing amount, the individual portraits and the template I used below vvv

I shouldn't be allowed to talk about my favorite characters- especially to people who (presumably) don't know them xjfkdk apart from the very popular ones ofc

ILLYA KURYAKIN (The man from U.N.C.L.E)

gay ass little Russian spy I love him he is so *dramatic* and a huge nerd and a Beatles fan and into fashion design- perfect pocket size blorbo ;w; also seeing a Russian character being given a positive leading role in an American tvshow from the 60s ?? Yes he lives in New York and works for UNCLE America.... But he is still a communist ?? Incredible ! Also I really like the fact he isn't given the cliché personality traits often given to Russian characters i e anger issues drinks a lot violent ect (looking at you shitty(imo) modern remake... What did you do to my little guy ;;). In a close contest with Spock for the "gayest man from tvshow" of the 60s..... And in my heart he is winning djdkd for me the gay subtext of muncle hits so much more because it's not a scifi show- it's closer to home, Napoleon and Illya were *like that* in the present day of the 60s, they were both human, and no alien fuckery made them go to the village more than once or play house in the suburbs or get attached ass up to get pegged on a regular basis... Truly a show that feels written by an old queen and a guy with the biggest fem dom fetish jkvjjkb (don't get me wrong tho I adore star trek tos and spirk too <3)

KUROO HAZAMA and PINOKO (Black Jack)

sometimes I rewatch some of the oavs from the 90s when I'm sad :) I had a huge phase a couple years back when I read nearly all the manga (should really finish it... Or reread the whole thing frankly), watched *all* the shows (bar young black jack, hated that shit) and idk I just love this venal bitch so much- him and his daughter and his conflicted feelings for his tboy ex that he still loves kfkfkf btw I'm dying for a modern take on this like please please please I'd love to see Kei Kisaragi's story rewritten a bit (trans character in the 70s sure was progressive but oh boy-), because him and black jack's relationship makes me so *weak*.... And maybe see him a bit more than in one story- anyway ! When it comes to his daughter Pinoko, it's very hit or miss- when the writers lean on the cute father adoptive daughter relationship it's great, when they lean more on the whole "she has a crush on him" (very much like a child in most case, and he *never* reciprocate thank god) and bring up the fact she is technically 18 a lot (she was an evil tumor trapped in her sister before he created a body for her- black jack shit dw), and she gets jealous of other women.... Well it's terrible and I'm uncomfy :(

EVA KANT (Diabolik)

Look.... You just can't show me danger diabolik 1968 and not expect me to become insane djdkdkdk she is so cool ;; !!! Her and her devious eel of a man (here as a panther, because even tho I haven't read the comic yet, I'm taking an educated guess that all the panther imagery is here to represent him, the lethal twunk always in the all black gimp suit... And if it's not then fuck my entire life ig fjfkkd), the cuntiest het couple you've ever seen, such freaks I love them ! Partners in crime that will blow up the tax offices of the whole country if you try to put a bounty on them <3 they are in the guilty faves category only because I'm this invested in these characters after 1 (one) movie fkfkf watched the first two remakes and was hmmm let's say underwhelmed, could have been worse but going after the 60s one ie peak cinema was hard... I went in fully invested in these heterosexuals and they still fucked up their romance and relationship ;; (don't spoil me the third one btw haven't seen it yet ! I know it's the yaoi one- which doesn't give me much hope for Eva tbh...) I'll soon start reading the comics tho ! Managed to find all twelve volumes of "Il grande Diabolik" in french for pretty cheap so I'm excited for that :D (might scan them and upload them online because omg I tried finding scans in *any* language and only found a dubious website that sold digital copies for 7€ a volume ??? What is this)

UTA (The Void / Тургор / Turgor / Tension)

Apathy girlyyyyy she just like me for real for real nfkfk what absolutely charmed me about her is yes her design, but more importantly her chamber's design (if you've never played the void, a sister's chamber is a space that represent her. You get a sense of who she is by exploring her chamber before finding her and talking to her soul it's great). The lonely island out at sea, her laying down on a suspended steel boat in a grotto, looking passively at the moon by a crack on the ceiling.... And the moon is looking back. Incredible ! I love this game so much

KIM KITSURAGI (Disco Elysium)

Do I really have to explain this one ? When I played the game with quiji I remember I kept saying "when Kim talks, we *listen*" djkdk we did get a good grade in Kim Kitsuragi and got him to dance in the church <3 this fucking centrist cop wormed it's way into my heart and many others because of course he did. The only Kim K in my eyes. Also funny anecdote : before I played Disco Elysium, I had one concept art masterclass where a kinda famous concept artist came to give advice, make us really stressed then give us a shitty grade.... And when I tell you this man looked so much like Kim ??? Same haircut, glasses, face with a scar *exactly* where Kim's portrait has a stark shadow on his cheek and he was dressed in an orange top- truly uncanny. Anyway, Kim is so fucking cool how does he do it

DARK VADOR (La guerre des étoiles)

*sight* not surprising if you know me... and to be clear when I say Vader I don't mean Anakin Skywalker, post barbecue only zouz here. I refuse to yap about this man djdkdk I already do that way to much in ao3 comment sections

And here is the template I used ! Don't know who made it tho sorry...

PS : all these where made in 2-3 hours each :D wanted to challenge myself by painting quickly, and I mostly (looking at the Eva Kant one that gave me trouble) succeeded !

[buddie-buddie]

It rains on the way home.

Something about it feels fitting, Buck thinks. He leans his head against the car window, staring as a large droplet snakes its way down the glass in a slow, winding trail. Outside the car, the streetlights flick on, soft halos of light reflected in the shine of the wet pavement.

The rhythmic patter of raindrops against the windshield and the steady beat of the wipers is steady and soothing, almost enough to drown out the ache in his chest.

Almost, but not quite.

The soft glow of passing headlights casts fleeting shadows inside the car as they make their way back downtown to the loft.

The night feels heavy, pressing down on him in a way he can’t shake. His mind is 800 miles away, somewhere in the suburbs of El Paso.

Tommy glances over at him from the driver’s seat, the air between them thick with things unsaid.

“You’ve been quiet,” Tommy’s voice cuts through the silence, soft and gentle in a way that makes Buck’s heart squeeze. “You want to talk about it?”

Buck swallows hard, sighs. “I don’t know,” he mutters, his voice strained. “It’s just... tonight sucked. Seeing Chris like that... not reacting, not even looking at us—” He cuts himself off, draws in a deep, shaky breath. “I know he’s hurting. I know it’s between him and Eddie. But it feels like... like…” he trails off, unable to find the words to properly articulate the ache that’s settled deep inside his chest.

“Like he’s pulling away from you, too,” Tommy finishes for him, his voice gentle but certain.

Buck glances at Tommy, a flicker of something passing through his tired eyes—relief, maybe, at being understood. Tommy’s hand moves from the steering wheel to rest gently on Buck’s thigh, a welcome, reassuring warmth. His thumb rubs a slow, soothing circle against the fabric of Buck’s jeans, grounding him with the simple touch.

“Yeah,” Buck breathes. “And Eddie... God, I hate seeing him like that. He was trying so hard, and Chris...”

Tommy’s eyes flick between the road and Buck’s face, reading him effortlessly. “I know,” he says. “This is… it’s hard right now. But it’s not forever.”

Buck lets out another shaky breath, his chest tight. It’s not just about Christopher practically ignoring them tonight. It’s deeper than that— seeing Eddie struggle, watching helplessly as his own bond with Chris starts to fade, feeling the sting of that loss himself. It hurts in a way he can’t quite describe.

He leans back in his seat, closing his eyes as he swallows down the lump in his throat.

Tommy parks outside of Buck’s building, but he doesn’t make a move to get out. Instead, he turns to face Buck properly. There’s a warmth in his eyes, something so soft and so fond, it has Buck’s heart swelling in his chest.

“Hey,” Tommy says gently, squeezing Buck’s thigh reassuringly. “He’ll come around. He’s a kid. He’s hurting, and he’s still angry, but he’s not gone forever. He needs time, and so does Eddie. But you and Chris? That bond? It’s ironclad. A rough call and a few months apart won’t even crack the foundation, let alone undo it.”

Buck closes his eyes for a moment, letting Tommy’s words ease the knot in his chest. Tommy shifts, leaning in closer, his hand moving up to the back of Buck’s neck. Buck’s shoulders slump, his breath shaky as he leans into Tommy’s touch, finally letting himself feel the weight of everything. “I just want him to be okay,” he murmurs. He’s not sure who he’s talking about— Christopher or Eddie.

Maybe both of them.

Tommy’s thumb brushes over the nape of his neck, a quiet comfort that settles something deep within Buck’s chest. “He will be,” Tommy says, pressing a soft kiss to Buck’s temple. “And you will be, too.”

For the first time all night, Buck feels a small, tentative flash of hope breaking through the heaviness still weighing on him.

His heart still breaks for Eddie, still misses Chris so much it physically hurts. But here, with Tommy, the weight of it all feels a little less crushing.

also on ao3

[loaksky]

i don’t celebrate thanksgiving, but could you guys imagine college!ellie taking roommate!reader home to jackson because she’d be alone for the holiday? short lil oneshot to get back into the groove of writing. do i hate this? yes.

recommended songs: alabama haint — penny and sparrow + what once was — her’s

warnings: language, a few brief mentions of family issues, suggestive content (kissing among other things) + mild sexual content, a lil misunderstanding and angst bc who am i if i don’t ??, CONFESSIONS because i’m a sloot for them. i think that’s it? not proofread ofc heh

it’s the weekend before thanksgiving, sunday to be exact, and ellie’s packing her backpack for joel’s. the energy in the the room’s a little off despite the fact that you’re normally reserved, and even though the two of you have only met this year, ellie’s learned to read you pretty well.

“you goin’ home for thanksgiving?” ellie asks absently, trying to make small talk as she rolls a sleep shirt and some pajamas haphazardly to stuff at the top of her bag.

there’s a pause that makes her brain itch before she sees the way you shake your head from where you’re hunched over a textbook at your desk.

“my family’s all over the place right now,” you answer honestly.

and ellie doesn’t know if you mean that figuratively or literally, but the lack of emotion in your voice tells her that maybe she shouldn’t pry. she can’t help it, though. because you’re her sweet and quiet roommate who’d been serious (and maybe a little scary) at first, but turned out to be a goofball with a little bit of prodding.

so seeing you like this, checked out and maybe a little stressed, ellie treads cautiously.

“so you’re gonna stay here?” she asks.

you don’t even spare her a glance.

“yeah.” your shoulders shrug. “no point in dropping so much money for a plane ticket if i’m going to be sitting home alone anyways.”

ellie makes a noise in the back of her throat and you throw look over your shoulder.

“sorry,” you offer softly, smile sheepish. “that was a little depressing.”

ellie shakes her head.

“no, i get it,” she assures you. “my family’s not really...”

you blink at her as she trails off.

“conventional? i guess?”

another quiet blankets the two of you and ellie’s speaking before she can even filter through the repercussions of her next words.

“you’re always welcome to...y’know...come with,” she says, scratching the back of her neck. “it’s not even a two hour drive.”

you hope ellie can’t tell that your cheeks are burning.

“you don’t have to, of course,” ellie blabbers. “but joel’s cool, so’s my uncle and his wife. it’d be nice, i think. and jackson’s pretty fun around this time of year...”

“i don’t wanna imp—”

ellie breathes a laugh.

“don’t,” she warns you, tips of her ears burning. “you’re more than welcome, seriously.”

it’s how you end up in the passenger seat of ellie’s old 4runner, heater on blast while sublime plays on the radio.

the car ride had consisted of ellie munching on cold fries the two of you had picked up from mcdonald’s before the interstate and you finally opening up about how your parents are divorced and how the holidays are a lot more stressful than they are pleasant.

ellie really feels for you, definitely knows the feeling losing her mom at a pretty young age and being adopted in middle school by a single, bereaved father. she tells you that they’d found each other when they needed the other the most.

and you don’t particularly know why you’re so nervous when ellie finally takes the exit off the interstate and you guys make your way through the suburbs. perhaps it’s the domesticity of meeting her family, or that you’re over a hundred miles away from familiarity, but your fingers are trembling when she turns into the neighbourhood and cozy brick homes line the frost-laden streets.

she’s pulling up and parking on the curb in front of a warm two-story that has a blue pickup truck and a gold SUV in the driveway when she notices.

“hey, hey,” she whispers, noticing the way you’re wringing your hands to stop the shaking. “you okay?”

her hands are warm when they close over yours and her thumbs is brushing over your skin soothingly.

“i’m being dumb,” you admit.

ellie’s eyes are crystal clear under the setting sun.

“don’t say that,” she says softly. “you wanna take a second?”

you swallow and shake your head.

“no, we can go,” you assure her.

she’s searching your face for any tell, but when you offer her a soft smile, she’s leaning back in her seat and nodding. before she completely pulls away, you’re stopping her.

“thanks, ellie,” you say gently. “this was really kind of you.”

she flashes you an easy smile, squeezes your hand a final time before climbing out of the car and rounding the front to help you out.

and truthfully, you realize you were nervous for nothing. because when the door swings open to reveal an older man aged with smile lines and greying hair, ellie seemingly softens infinitely.

“hey, kiddo,” he greets, crushing her in a hug so tight, she’s spluttering out a laugh.

“joel, i can’t breathe,” she wheezes.

you’re standing there awkwardly, backpack slung over your shoulder when joel finally loosens his hold on ellie and glances over her head.

“who’s this?” he asks, but the smile he wears is knowing.

“________, my roommate,” she introduces quickly, cheeks warming an awful shade of red as she begs every force above that joel won’t blow her cover.

because, okay, maybe ellie’s talked about you on the phone way more times than she’d care to admit out loud. talked about how intimidating you were at first, then graduated to talking about how you were actually so cool. and maybe she’d brought up the fact that she thought you were pretty. like...super pretty. and that maybe she was crushing a teensy bit.

“nice to meet you,” joel replies simply, sparing ellie this time around.

you let go of the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding onto, offering a smile that makes ellie wonder if she’ll survive the week with you in such a new proximity.

“nice to meet you, too,” you almost whisper, relaxing as he reaches for the backpack slung over your shoulder.

“here, let me take this for you,” he says.

and it doesn’t take you long to realize where ellie gets it from. her kind spirit and fierce yet gentle heart. joel is soft-spoken, a little rough around the edges, but a warm energy that radiates through the home he’s made for himself and ellie.

it makes infinitely more sense enter tommy and maria, her uncle and aunt who tell you the silliest stories about the starry-eyed girl in her youth over dinner. who bring out her boisterous laughter when they sing old 80’s music over dishes and evening TV.

“your family’s so cool,” you say in awe, wrapped in one of her coats she’d dug out of the closet under the stairs.

you’re nursing a mug of hot chocolate that steams in the icy air of jackson on her back porch.

ellie breathes out a little laugh.

“they’re something,” she jokes, watching you over the rim of her mug.

you make her heart thud hard in her chest as she takes you in, bundled in pieces of her that make her think that she wouldn’t mind making you hers.

“i miss times like these,” you whisper.

ellie shifts closer, catching you by surprise when her thumb swipes over the curve of your top lip.

“sorry,” she hums quietly. “you had...uh...”

you let out a hollow laugh and shake your head, tell her that it’s fine as a silence blankets the two of you.

“i’m glad you like them,” ellie admits softly. “sometimes i get a little self-conscious because, y’know, everyone expects a nuclear family and...”

“i’d take this any day,” you assure her, and the true implication of your words is latent, but something hopeful pricks her tummy.

i’d take this any day...with you.

and locking eyes with you usually scares her, usually makes her queasy with nerves because there’s always something searing in your gaze, but it’s like you see each other for the first time, no barriers.

ellie’s so close she can feel the warmth of your body coiling and drawing her in. her breath’s caught in her throat as she chances a glance at your mouth and her own lips begin to tingle.

she’s on the brink of asking if she can kiss you, but the back door is sliding open and two familiar faces are surfacing.

“williams!”

ellie’s daze melts away as she shifts to put distance between the two of you at the arrival of her friends.

“jess!” she calls. “dina!”

the moment clings heavy, but ellie writes it off. maybe she’s jumping the gun, reading too much into tender moments. it’s colored on your face, though, as she stands to meet her friends halfway, that the two of you are tethered and you feel it too.

ellie’s friends are another reflection of her character. they take you under their wings in the days leading up to the holiday with jesse teaching you to ride his minibike and dina telling you stories of their childhood while excitedly painting your nails pretty shades of autumnal colors because both jesse and ellie vehemently decline.

joel graciously relinquishes his kitchen to the four of you the day before thanksgiving. lets you guys gather around and bake an array of different desserts for tomorrow’s dinner over a few beers and winecoolers.

perhaps ellie’s a lightweight, you come to find, when she’s a lot more giggly and rosy-cheeked than she’d ever let anyone see. she’s feeling a little bubbly and you definitely don’t help the fact when you gaze upon her so fondly as you smear away the streaks of flour across her cheek.

jesse and dina are merely observers, watching with knowing grins as ellie practically melts against your touch.

and as the desserts cool on the kitchen island and the two of see jesse and dina out, ellie can’t keep her hazy eyes off of you. the two of you vote on a movie and she’s taking her usual seat in the right corner of the couch. it starts out with the two of you on opposite ends, but as the film plays, the space between you and ellie diminishes and she swears you can hear the way her heart’s pounding behind her ribcage with your ear pressed to her chest.

it’s uncharted territory considering ellie’s never been big on physical touch and she can’t even be sure that there's anything there, but you have to know. ellie’d mentioned past girlfriends, wasn’t really subtle when it came to wandering eyes on campus, hell, she’d even—

suddenly your arm’s tightening around the narrow of her waist and you’re nestling impossibly closer and christ, ellie can’t help herself when the coarse pads of her fingertips brush your jaw to catch your attention.

your gaze is illuminated by pixels and there’s a hitch in your breathing as you search her features for any hesitation. it’s long gone, you find, when ellie’s mouth is slotting yours, lips warm and tongue still flavored with sparkling wine.

ellie kisses like you’re air and she needs you to breathe. it’s almost embarrassing, way her body reacts to your proximity, how hot she us under the collar and achey as you move to straddle her. her fingertips are skimming down your spine, past the small of your back to take a—

your teeth sinking in the plump of her bottom lip and the way your soft palms find purchase against the rigid expanse of her tattooed abdomen is sobering. has her bony fingers cupping the flesh of your jaw.

“wait, wait,” she whispers, chest heaving and breaths shallow as she looks up at you.

the dust is starting to settle and you take in ellie’s kiss-bitten lips, swollen and slick. her pupils are blown wide, sweater riding up to reveal reddened flesh like you’ve branded her. you lean back.

“fuck,” you whisper. “fuck, i’m so sorry.”

ellie’s mouth is drying.

“why are you sorry?” she whispers.

you seem to chew on your words, eyes teary and expression scared.

“why are you sorry?” ellie repeats, not caring enough to mask the hitch in her voice as she pries.

“you’re always so fucking good to me, ellie,” you whimper. “you’re a great roommate and an even better friend and—”

ellie blows out a deep sigh, falls slack against the cushions as she levels you with an indiscernible look in her eye.

“don’t do that,” she breathes.

“ellie.”

“c’mon, you know me better than that,” she says, tone tinged with annoyance. “you don’t have to let me down easy. you can be honest.”

and color you confused because how couldn’t she fathom that you’ve fallen and head first at that? she’s reading it all wrong, you realize, when defeat shutters over her pretty face.

“i—”

the floorboards outside the den creak and ellie’s pushing you off just as the door squeaks open to reveal joel’s aging face.

he reads the room a moment, decides to blow by the sheen in your eyes and ellie’s rigid posture.

“tommy and maria are leaving, kiddo,” he says. “if you wanna say bye.”

ellie nods, stands and leaves you in the television-illuminated room.

you realize she won’t come back for you when the telltale sound of the front door closes and the stairs seem to groan under her weight.

it’s half past two in the morning when you slip from the den, glass of water condensating on a coaster as you try to collect yourself on the screened-in deck out back.

the icy chill stings your lungs, makes you gulp in breath after breath. the night’s starting to dawn you, the gravity of the situation overwhelming you enough to choke.

“fuck,” you whisper, that familiar feeling of dread squeezing your chest.

meanwhile, ellie can’t sleep. has been staring at the ceiling of her childhood bedroom for the past two and a half hours. you’re all she can think of. pliant curves of your body settling over hers to fit like you two were made for each other, the smell of your subtle perfume, the taste of your mouth.

and she wants to be annoyed, angry at the fact, but she’d brought you all the way here, extricated you from your comfort zone and showed you parts of her she wouldn’t dream of revealing to anyone else.

she recalls the resignation in your tone on the drive up, how you’d divulged the dysfunction of your family and the troubles you carried with you as a result. it’d be your first holiday with someone other than yourself for a while and she’d be damned if it soured because she couldn’t push her feelings aside.

the tv’s off and the blanket’s folded when she musters up enough courage to enter the den again, heart sinking to her ass when she slides back into the kitchen and finds that the sliding door to the back deck is cracked ever so slightly.

she’s seen you in a lot of ways these past eleven-odd months she’s known you, but she’s never seen you like this, hands over your heart and chest heaving like you’re trying to ground yourself.

when your watery gaze swings to her, ellie’s melting, cushion sinking as she settles next to you.

“sorry,” you whisper shakily. “i don’t—”

ellie’s shifting to face you, arms winding around your shoulders as one hand comes up to cradle the back of your head.

“let’s talk about it later,” ellie offers softly. “we can just go to bed for now and—”

“i really, really like you, ellie,” you say in one breath, and it has her body locking up, the audible catch of her inhale sounding near your ear.

“but?”

“no buts,” you admit. “just that i don’t want you to think that i kissed you because you’re being nice to me. well, i guess you’re always nice to me. it’s one of the reasons why i…”

and ellie doesn’t mean to tune you out, but you’re so fucking cute and so sweet and she shouldn’t have doubted you or herself because you’re hiccuping and shivering and—

you taste better the second time around. now ellie’s a little less unsure, still a little nervous because you’re the first girl to make her feel like this and she doesn’t want the bubble she’s built around the two of you in this corner of her little world to burst, but kissing you feels so right.

she’s dragging you back inside, past the den and up the stairs, and maybe the two of you do things you shouldn’t in her twin size bed in her childhood room when her dad’s only a few walls away, but she can’t help herself. not when you’ve always been an arm’s length away and she can finally have you.

it isn’t until the two of you lay under the dim glimmer of the glow-in-the dark stars pasted to her ceiling, her face pressed in your neck, that she says it.

“i really, really like you, too,” she whispers. “i realized i didn’t say it back.”

but it’s not like she needs to. you knew that already.

neng ©️2023

[pinguwrites]

𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔' 𝑺𝒚𝒏𝒅𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒆 ⸻ Chapter One

series masterlist. next chapter

𝒑𝙖𝒊𝙧𝒊𝙣𝒈 | francis mosses x reader

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 | 1.5k

Warnings: none

A/N: I promise it'll get more exciting later lol

The elevator dinged, and your heart raced. It was dark out, and so the lobby was dimmed — that blue hue that came right before the sun’s rising. After peeking a small look to the side, you quickly went back to the newspaper you were reading, as if you hadn’t noticed the sound at all. Though you didn’t need to hear or see to know who it was. No one else in Sama Place got up this early, except perhaps for you. It was you and Francis Mosses, every day alone at five in the morning. Perfect, wasn’t it?

“Mornin’,” he said, tipping his hat slightly. It was white, with the words “MILKMAN” etched onto the front. If anything, that added detail made him look even more handsome — uniformed, well-put-together, with just a hint of authority. Everything you liked. 

“Good morning, Francis,” you greeted, resting your elbows on the desk in front of you. Placing the newspaper aside, you focused your attention on him, but when he approached you, he took it between his fingers and flipped to the page you were at. 

“Crossword? It’s a bit early for that,” he mused, eyeing all the columns and rows you filled in. It was a hard one, but nothing you couldn’t handle. Besides, what else were you supposed to do, stare at the wall waiting to say ‘hi’ to the next person who came by?

“I like puzzles, they get me thinking . . . you know, you should do something like this, too.” Francis furrowed his eyebrows, just slightly. “Not puzzles, necessarily. But a hobby.”

It just occurred to you at this very moment that he probably did have a hobby, but as someone who was just a doorwoman, you weren't privy to that information.

“I’m sure you do,” you added with a chuckle. “It’s only that I never see you doing anything but work. You’re so tired all the time. How much effort does being a milkman really require?”

He bit his lower lip. “More than you think. I used to get up at one.”

The idea that whatever company he was working for forced him to do this made you upset. Francis deserved nothing but freedom and long vacations and waking up to brunch, not whatever coffee he drank in the morning to get himself going. 

“One?” you repeated, absolutely stunned. “Well, I’m glad you managed to change your shift. Most bosses I know aren’t flexible with that sort of stuff.”

“I was actually doing fine with my original hours. I just changed them because . . .”

“Because what?”

He thought for a moment, his cheeks dusted pink. “Wanted to enjoy the world a little. Can’t very well do that if you have to sleep at seven in the afternoon.” He paused. “I have to go, I’ll see you later tonight, ma’am.”

“Alright. Have a nice day, sir.”

You watched as he left, a longing gaze. In your mind, you imagined spending time with him, whether it be to see a movie or just walk around the city. You found that highly unlikely, though. Mostly because you could never bring yourself to ask him, and never thought he would ever ask you. 

+++

“Really?” you said, a little disappointed. “I’d hate to see you go.”

Dr. William Afton shrugged, a grin across his lips. “I mean, it’s quite the modern idea, don’t you think? I think there ought to be more family restaurants out there. And with my engineering background, I think I’m just the right man to create something fun for children.”

“Your idea sounds like a science fiction novel,” you admitted, “but I like it. What does Mia think?”

“Oh, I had to convince her a little, but in the end, she’ll do as I say. Besides, we’re not moving very far. Just closer to the suburbs.”

You nodded. “I’ll miss you. Make sure to stop by again when you can.”

He agreed and went on his way to finish moving the rest of his belongings to his car. It was silly to want him to stay, but that was how it felt here. Everyone knew everyone, it was like a family. You’d made more friends here than you ever did before. Change wasn’t something you enjoyed.

+++

The day had passed by quickly. You took your lunch break and then went straight back to work. You made a few calls to make sure things were in order. If anything was wrong with the plumbing or if the wallpaper had chipped — things like that — it was your responsibility to fix it. Taking calls for potential renters, being in general a polite and pleasant person, it all came with your job. 

It was unusual for a woman to hold this kind of position. Women barely worked at all. Most were housewives or teachers or secretaries. The fact that you even got this job at all was a miracle. And the fact that the people in this building were so pleasant was a blessing.

After your father died you thought everything was over. He left you a house, a small, one-story building with a nice lawn and a small backyard. It was closed off from the rest of the street, the way he liked it. Away from others, with his own peace. You supposed that trait passed down to you. Other than a simple conversation, you preferred to be by yourself rather than out with a large group of friends, partying at risqué clubs. Besides, even if you liked that kind of stuff, your father would never have approved. 

You were dependent on him, right till the very end. Though you graduated from college, you didn’t know how to get a loan from a bank, drive a car, or even do your taxes. The easiest thing to do was to find a husband, but it was just so difficult. When you saw that sign outside of Sama saying ‘HIRING NOW’ you knew that was where you had to go. A new start. New opportunity. For the first time, you could make your own money, support yourself, and live the life you want.

You sighed, thinking about everything as you leaned back in your chair. The weather was hot today, so you set the fan beside your desk on. It was blowing through your hair, the coolness brushing against your skin with relief. It made your skirt rumple at the ends, but whenever it did that you just straightened it out, pulling it over your knees once more. 

“Hey,” a voice said behind you. 

Startled, you sat up straight, only to realize it was just Anastacha, the girl from the second floor. She lived with her mom, who was a cook at a restaurant, but apparently trying to make it as a chef. She had pigtails in her hair like always and was wearing a simple plaid dress. 

“You scared me,” you said, tone both playful and scolding. “Don’t do that again.”

“Sorry,” she apologized, but she didn’t seem very sorry. “I need help with my homework. Mom says you had a good education, and that if I ever needed help I could just come to you.”

You smiled warmly. “Sure. Pull up that chair over there, and I’ll see what I can do.”

You looked through the folder. It was just basic algebra, nothing too difficult. You remembered doing this in middle school. For the next ten minutes, you both read through each problem and solved it together. She had a lot of questions — annoying ones — but it was fine. She was just a kid, and you were happy to help.

Just as you were explaining the last part to her, the front door opened. 

It was Francis. 

Distracted, you glanced up and down his body. Was it odd that you found him the most beautiful man ever? His long, Roman nose, and his smooth, pale skin. The way the veins in his hands flexed every time he moved them, the light blue dress shirt that hugged his slim, muscled arms, and that dark, tousled hair, widow’s peak dipped in the middle of his forehead.

He passed by you with a short nod. It almost hurt that he didn’t bother to stay longer, but you could see the bags under his eyes and his sluggish movements. He was tired. And to be fair, so were you.

When the elevator door closed, Anastacha exclaimed, “Oh, he likes you!”

“Shh!” You didn’t need people hearing that. “He does not. Do you want to finish this or not?”

“He does,” she insisted with a giggle. “You saw the way he looked at you?”

“You can’t determine things based on a single look.”

“Yes, I can. Mr. Mosses is nice, but he kind of just ignores everyone. He doesn’t do that with you.”

The thought that Francis may like you was an intoxicating one. He was just a man, one that you never exchanged many words with, yet he managed to make you feel all sorts of ways. Was it possible that Anastacha was right? That he really did like you?

“I bet you like him, too.”

You glared at her. You did not need Anastacha spreading rumors about how you were in love with the milkman, however true that may be.

“No, I don’t. Focus.” You pointed the pencil back at her homework. “Now, in order to find x, you have to subtract . . . . . .”

Taglist: @Meetmeatyourworst @hanawrites404 @Emimurphy2008

[janeyseymour]

Secrets

hi! so, an anon asked for this. i had a LOT of fun with this one, and i hope you enjoy! literally not edited in the slightest because this one wrote itself and i don't have time to read over 9k words.

summary: You're Ava's friend, and that is enough to make Melissa hate you. But then, through volunteering for different events through the school, the redheaded teacher finds that she's falling for you. You have money, not that anyone knows, and when the school desperately needs money, you anonymously donate a generous amount. Of course, the Abbott crew isn't satisfied with not knowing who donated all of that money, and they sure as hell intend to find out.

WC~9.4k

You grew up with a lot of money. You don’t even need this job- Daddy still has you covered and pays for most of your expenses, as much as you continue to tell him that you are perfectly capable of making it on your own. You have enough saved up from all of the ridiculous amounts of money you received from past birthdays, as well as high school and college graduation presents, not to mention the fact that you have a good portion of money invested into different stocks, and you’re doing pretty damn well for yourself.

Dad taught you all about personal finances when you were younger- he’s a successful day trader, but he’s always been on the financial side of business work to begin with, and Mom is a lawyer.

And while you had quite a lavish lifestyle, your parents still chose to reside in Philadelphia, and not necessarily the nice area of Philly either. But it was part of their story, and they wanted to stay close to their roots, so they raised you here. And growing up, you became close friends (maybe even best friends) with the one and only: Ava Coleman. She was your partner in crime growing up, and you never lost contact with her once you graduated high school.

You went off to school to pursue a career in education, much to both of your parents surprise- but they supported you in your decision.

(“I hope you raise the next generation to be smart,” Mom had told you. “Bring up some new lawyers for generations to come, yeah?”

“Teach those kids how to make it out alive like Ma and I did, got it kiddo?” Dad had joked with you, but you knew he was being serious.)

After years of teaching at one of the other public schools in the suburbs of your city, you decided that you wanted to come back to your roots. You miss Philly and all of the excitement that comes with it. You miss the odd odor that lingers in the streets, and the way that no one could give half a shit and jaywalked. You miss the way that you could pretty much walk anywhere, and within a few minutes you could be milling around Reading Terminal Market looking for some good eats. So you call your best friend for some advice.

“Girl, why didn’ you tell me sooner?” Ava asks you once you’ve explained to her that you want to come back to the city. “I own a school now, and I can for sure get you a job here.”

“Ava,” you sigh. “What the hell do you mean you own a school? Do you mean you’re the principal of a school?”

“Same thing,” you can practically hear your best friend rolling her eyes.

“That’s awesome,” you congratulate her. “How’d you manage that?”

“You know how I’ve been helping out at the Abbott elementary admin building with financials? Well,” she cackles into the phone. “I did some deep diving, and I found out that the super intendant of the district has been sleeping around- found hotel bills and everything on the company card for quickies. All I had to do was bring that up, and boom! I get a new title, a nice raise, and I own a school! I’ve been there for a couple months now, but there are more turnovers here than there were in the last Super Bowl, so I can for sure get you in.”

“A couple months? Has it really been that long since we last talked?”

“Since we actually caught up, yeah,” she sighs dramatically. “You and your fancy teaching job out in the ‘burbs. It ain’t gonna be fancy like that though, we don’ even got money for a proper librarian.”

“Remember, we grew up in Philly,” you remind her. “I know what it’s like. But can you really get me a job?”

“For sure,” she tells you. “With Summer coming up, I be knowin’ I’m about to get a lot of resignations from these people I thought were spicy White people but ain’t. The only spicy white lady here is Schemmenti- pretty sure she’s part of the mob, but I ain’t about to dig. We’ll have you join us next school year.”

“I highly doubt a teacher working in Philly is part of the mob,” you roll your eyes. “But if you’re serious, then yes. I would love to come work with you.”

“For me,” she corrects. “Just because we friends don’t mean I ain’t about to subject you to all of my bullshit at school- you get to deal with the full Ava experience in all its glory just like everybody else.”

“I’ve been subject to it for my entire life,” you laugh.

“I’ll reach out when I can officially accept your resume and offer you a position, but in the mean time… girl, when we getting our nails done?”

By some grace of God, Ava is able to keep her word, and you’re officially an employee of Willard R. Abbott Elementary School starting in August as a second grade teacher. You walk in arms full of boxes stacked so high you can barely see over them, not dressed in your fanciest clothes- you have a whole separate wardrobe when it comes to teaching. You know how this works- clothes will be ruined. Hell, some clothes were ruined at a nicer suburban school, so you know that some of your outfits will not be wearable by the end of the school year- or even the first week with the kids if you’re that unlucky.

“There you are, bitch!” Ava grins and runs over to you as you enter. She’s decked out in Eagles apparel, it’s all bejeweled in true Ava Coleman fashion. “I’m so happy you’re here- you boutta blow the roof off this place!”

You roll your eyes playfully but smile at her. “Can you just show me where my room is so I can start setting it up before we have to do our development activities?”

“Don’t you got people to do that for you?”

“No,” you shake your head. “I am fully capable of setting up my classroom myself- without people to move everything for me.”

“Lame,” she sighs. “I always like seeing the sexy movers your Dad hires for you.”

“I explicitly told him I didn’t want him to do that for me,” you tell her. “And I told him that if he sent people here to move stuff from my car, I would never be respected. I know how it goes around here, and so does he. So, here I am.”

The principal leads you down to your room. “All yours,” she grins as she unlocks the door.

You look around once you’ve set your boxes on the ground and bite your lip thoughtfully. You can make do with this space.

“Your team is Janine… annoying ass dork, and Melissa… mean Italian lady who is working for the mob.”

“You’re still on that?”

“Guilty until proven innocent!” Ava quips.

“You’re ridiculous,” you laugh. “Care to give me a hand with unloading the rest of the stuff from my car?”

“Girl, I just got my nails done, and you sure as hell know I don’t do manual labor. I’m the principal now- that shit’s beneath me!” She turns on her heel. “See you in the library in an hour!”

You report down to the gym a little before everyone else to get your bearings, and to beg your best friend to not make a huge deal about you being here- specifically requesting that she doesn’t speak anything of your family or the business. You have a relatively common last name, so it isn’t like anyone would hear your name and immediately know of your family either.

“I won’ say anything about your fam, but you sure as hell know I’m gonna let them know your my bitch and they shouldn’t mess with you.”

You sulk back to your seat, dreading whatever the hell Ava is going to say about your arrival at the school.

The rest of your colleagues make their way in and take seats in their designated seats, you still lingering in the back. This way, you’re able to see some new faces, and you wouldn’t want to take anyone’s unofficially assigned seat. Once everyone is seated you join them. You can immediately pick out a few of the names that Ava had thrown out over the summer. Janine is sitting with Gregory and Jacob, and the redheaded woman is clearly Melissa. Sitting next to her is who has to be what Ava described to as, “Melissa’s heterosexual work wife and life partner,” Barbara Howard.

The principal heads to the stage and starts her greeting in true Ava fashion- telling them all how much she wishes they weren’t here and she was still clubbing it up down at the shore, but she supposes it’s okay to see them again. And then she begins to introduce the new teachers- she, of course, saves you for last.

“And finally,” she breaks out in a grin and does a little dance. “we have Y/N. Listen up: this girl is my ride or die, and even one of you steps out of line towards her, and we gon’ have problems.”

All eyes turn to you and your red cheeks, but you give a small wave.

“Now, onto the boring stuff,” Ava sighs. She drones on about the new school year and what is going to (supposedly) pan out over the next nine months before she dismisses you all to prep in your classrooms for the remainder of the day.

You make a break for the door as soon as you can, sweater wrapped around you tightly even though it’s sweltering hot in the school- apparently Mr. Johnson still hasn’t fixed the air conditioning because he forgot which Boyz II Men song he assigned to the air system. As soon as you’re in your classroom, your sweater is off and you’re fanning yourself with a paper fan you had folded for yourself.

You continue to prepare for your students until you hear a gentle knock on the door. Who is standing there but Janine and Melissa.

“Hi!” Janine grins as she steps in. “It’s so great to have you as an addition to our team, and Melissa and I just wanted to stop by and introduce ourselves! I’m Janine, and this is-” She nudges the woman next to her.

The redhead just huffs and rolls her eyes. “Schemmenti,” is all she says.

“If you need anything at all, please don’t hesitate to come and ask one of us. My room is just down the hall, but lucky for you- Melissa’s room is right next door to you!”

“Don’t need anything,” the fiery second grade teacher warns you. “I don’t got time for someone who’s gonna leave in a few weeks.”

You’re somewhat taken aback by her abrasive personality, but you just smile instead. “Thank you,” is all you say once Janine has hissed out a quiet, “Melissa!”

“Did you need any help at all yet?”

“She don’t need help, pipsqueak,” Melissa rolls her eyes. “She’s got Ava on her side.” And with that, the redhead turns on her heel and leaves.

“Don’t mind her,” Janine tells you as she steps into your classroom a bit further. “She’s got a tough exterior, and she hated me too at first. But now, she’s like my work mom, with Barbara being my other work mom, of course. She even brought me lunch to make sure I eat today.”

“That’s very kind of her,” you say as you continue to set up your room.

“I like what you have goin’ on here,” your colleague nods her head in approval. “Nice and warm, kinda like my room! Well, I have to get back to my own classroom, but if you need anything, come on down! The price is right!” She laughs at her own joke before strolling down the hallway. 

Your first day at school is relatively peaceful, and before you know it, you’re allowed to leave. Of course though, you do plan on staying later because you have to finish up a few things before you’ll be satisfied with the progress you’ve made.

You see Melissa leaving her classroom, and despite not necessarily wanting to, you call out a gentle, “Have a good night, Melissa.”

She doesn’t say anything in response, just gives a short nod of the head in your direction before continuing on down the hall.

As you gather your things to leave for the day, Ava shows up at your door.

“So, we goin’ out for drinks?”

“I don’t think I can,’ you sigh. “I still have a lot of stuff that I have to prep for this, and I want to make sure it all gets done before the kids show up.”

“Girl, this would all be way easier if you just-”

“I don’t need any hired help,” you cut her off because you know exactly what she was going to say.

“Well then, I’m coming over,” your friend tells you, leaving no room for arguments. “It’s been too long since I seen you, or drank some of the good ass wine I know you have at your house.”

“Be my guest,” you chuckle as you sling your bag over your shoulder.

The rest of your development days are filled with boring meetings and time to prepare your classrooms. You find yourself a part of a committee to help with funding with a nudge from Ava.

“Girl, you don’t gots to tell them how you know all of this stuff about finances,” she tells you. “But it would be a big help to have someone like you on our team.”

“Fine. But if it gets out who I come from, I’m pulling out,” you point a finger at her. “I am not about to let my father get his hands on this and try to turn the school charter like he’s done before.”

She nods. “Whatever.”

The school year starts off strong. You’ve settled into your classroom, your kids absolutely adore you, and you adore them. You’ve spent some time with the other teachers in the school, besides Melissa, during preps, lunch duties, and recess duties. They all seem to like you, and you like them too.

Still though, you find yourself coming in early and staying late in order to get as much as you can together- you know once actual classwork starts to trickle in for you to grade, your plate is only going to get much more full. So any work that you can streamline and work ahead on, you do. The time where teachers are allowed to leave is upon you, and as much as you want to go home and take a nap, you know you really should stay and continue to work on lesson plans. Maybe you should start hanging up some of the work that your students have already done- their all about me posters and drawings. With a sigh, you gather the materials you’ll need to create a bulletin board and the footstool you keep in your cabinet and make your way into the hallway.

“Oi,” Melissa rolls her eyes as she closes her door for the night. “You know that working overtime won’t make you a better teacher.”

“I know,” you say softly. “But you know how it goes your first year in a new school.”

“Yeah, I don’t miss that shit,” the redhead huffs and starts to make her way down the hall.

“Have a good night, Melissa,” you call quietly.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t tell me what to do,” she tosses over her shoulder.

Wow. This woman was not easy to work with.

The next few days continue on like this, you staying later and later in order to stay on top of everything.

On Friday, you arrive early as you always do. While it’s casual Friday, and you’re allowed to wear jeans, you opt for a flowery sundress instead. It’ll keep your body temperature more regulated than a pair of stuffy jeans would. You know you aren’t doing anything where a student could accidentally destroy this dress either, so you think it’s a safe call.

As you enter the staff room to grab your lunch from the refrigerator, you hear the redhead’s low voice.

“You think you’re better than us, don’t you?” she challenges you, and you really don’t know why she’s doing this.

“Hm?” you hum as you grab your salad from the shelf.

“You think you’re better than us, don’t you?” she repeats. “Coming in here all cozy with Ava, wearing something or than jeans on casual Friday, already having bulletin boards up… you might’ve come from a nice school bonfire, but you’re here now- adjust.”

All of your coworkers’ eyes go wide at this unprovoked ‘fight’ you’ve found yourself in, and a few of them scold her. 

“What’s she gonna do?” Melissa fires out to Barbara. “Go tell on me to Ava and get me fired? Please.”

You bite your lip nervously before smiling tightly. “Have a nice lunch, y’all… and have a nice weekend if I don’t catch you before school’s over.” You leave the room with that and head back down to your classroom to eat your lunch while you pour over your lesson plans.

“Melissa,” Barbara sighs. “Y/N has done nothing to you, and you’re treating her terribly! There is no need; you are better than this!”

“Listen, she’s just another one of Ava’s minions who is going to reign hell on me during the school year. She already drives me nuts with the effort she’s putting in.”

“She may be friends with Ava,” Janine cuts in. “But I really don’t think she’s like her- she seems like she has drive and a true passion for our kids.”

“And that is what we need at this school,” the kindergarten teacher tells her friend. “We need people who are willing to put in the effort and love on these kiddos the way that she is. I already had Dante tell me during my lunch duty that he loves second grade because of her! Do not go tearing her down and forcing her out when we need more educators like her!”

“I don’t-”

“Melissa Ann Caterina Schemmenti,” Barbara pulls out the redhead’s full name, and Melissa’s eyes go wide at that. “Be nicer to the young girl. Give her a chance. You weren’t even this hard on Jacob and Janine when they first joined us.”

“And now you’re like my work mom!” the energetic teacher grins.

“You don’t even have to go out of your way to be nice to her,” the elder teacher says. “Just don’t be so harsh.”

“If I say sure, can we go back to eating lunch and talking about our weekend plans?”

Deciding that you’ve put enough hard work into this week and you’ll make sure you’re in here bright and early the day after Labor day, you grab your bag to head out on time and make the most of this long weekend. You close your door and begin to lock it just as Melissa makes her way out of the classroom.

“You’re not staying late tonight?” she looks at you with a raised brow.

“No,” you chuckle. “I figured that I deserve to have this weekend to relax after a hectic first week. But I’ll be back bright and early on Tuesday.”

“Mhmm,” the redhead hums as she fiddles with her door. “Shit,” she grumbles as she struggles to get the lock to turn.

“Do you want some help?” you ask her gently.

“I got it,” she holds up a hand. “I’ve been dealing with this damn door for the last two years. Mr. J will get around to it eventually.”

After watching her fight with the lock for long enough, you sigh and pull a bobby pin out of your hair. “Seriously, let me help.”

She steps aside, arms folded over her chest. Before you know it, you have her door locked, and you’re sliding the pin back into your hair.

“Thank you,” she mutters.

“Of course,” you smile at her shyly. “Hey, have a nice weekend.”

“You too, kid,” she tells you, and there isn’t any sort of bite behind her words. She isn’t smiling at you, but she also isn’t scowling at you.

Content with that conversation, you head for the doors and out to your car.

You make a pitstop on your way home into the Home Depot- you’’ just buy a new lock for Melissa’s door and install it on Tuesday when you get there. It’s a simple fix, and she doesn’t have to know it was you that did it.

The weekend is nice. You and Ava go out clubbing on Friday and Saturday night before nursing your hangovers on Sunday together. And then on Monday, you make your way over to your parents’ house with your partner in crime for the Labor Day barbecue they always hold. It’s a good time, as it always is. Your parents are happy to see the lively woman again, and they thank her for helping to get you back to your roots.

You’re back at Abbott bright and early- earlier than anybody else besides the janitor that lingers in the halls and doesn’t do his job.

“Good morning, Mr. J!” you greet him happily.

“Y/N,” he smiles back at you. “You have a nice weekend?”

“I did,” you reply as you make your way down to your wing. “And you?”

“Always a good time when you’re me,” he chuckles before continuing on his way humming a Boyz II Men song. 

You quickly drop your things off in your room before changing out your colleague’s crappy lock. You leave the new key in the hole so she has it, and then you settle at your desk to continue working on your lesson plans and preparations.

You hear her before you see her passing by your room to get to hers.

“Hey, good morning,” you greet her quietly.

“Mornin’,” she huffs. You’ve gathered that she isn’t much a morning person- at least not until she’s had her first cup of coffee and has watched the news in the break room with her friends.

You a hear a soft, “Huh,” come from her mouth as she notices there’s a new lock on her door. “Took you long enough, Mr. J.” She has no idea it’s you that changed it. Hopefully, this starts her week of well.

Your exchanges with the Italian lady in the room next door don’t much go beyond a good morning and a good night each day as the weeks go on, but she doesn’t frown at your mere existence anymore. If you squint, you can almost see a smile. The rest of your colleagues really seem to taking a liking to you, and you’re genuinely happy that you made the decision to come work here- even if it means putting up with your best friend’s shenanigans.

Everything is going swimmingly at work until one day Ava calls an emergency staff meeting at the end of the day.

Making your way into the library, you genuinely have no idea what she could have to announce so urgently. Apparently, neither do any of the other teachers.

“You’re close with her,” Melissa falls into step with you. “You know what she’s gonna say?”

“No idea,” you tell her quietly. “I’m just praying it’s not another pyramid scheme of hers. I can’t get her out of any more trouble with those.”

The redhead looks at you curiously, but you don’t say anything else. You don’t want to admit that when Ava finds herself in legal troubles, she usually calls your mother and she helps clean up the mess pro bono.

The two of you settle into the library chairs amongst the rest of your coworkers, but Ava is nowhere to be found.

“Good lord,” Barbara mutters. “This better be worth staying after. I’m going to be late to dinner with Gerald.”

Your friend enters the library looking rather frazzled. “Hey, y’all. Listen, I gotta make this quick because I have to get to a hair appointment, but I wanted you to hear it from me before word got around: the district is trying to cut our budget, and with our budget being cut, that means they’ll cut the arts programs. I know y’all don’t want that, so start coming up with ways to get us out this mess!”

Before anyone can ask any questions, she leaves.

“What the hell?” Melissa looks angry- like really angry. Her nostrils are flared, her eyes are wide, and she’s balling up her hands into fists. “Barb, you and me to the mall. I’m gonna need a new shakedown sweater.”

With no hesitation, the kindergarten teacher follows her work wife out of the school.

That night, Ava calls you.

“Girl… you know what we have to do,” she tries to convince you to let out your secret about your wealth.

“No,” you say for the millionth time. “We are going to fundraise, we’re going to get the money so that they can’t cut it… I’ll work with Janine and the budgeting committee to see where we can make small cuts here and there to scrounge up some more money… but I am not letting my dad get wrapped up in this and be in his debts. You know how he likes to hold stuff like that over my head, and he will turn Abbott charter if we let him get involved with this.”

You work tirelessly to come up with multiple fundraisers, different presentations to bring to the district offices, and work with the budgeting committee to make small cuts where you have a bit of wiggle room. You even tell them they can cut your salary by 2% if it means a little extra money- it may not be a lot, but it’s something that you’re willing to give considering your sizable bank account anyway. You do all of this, on top of continue to work in your classroom. You’re exhausted.

You volunteer for the events that you’ve helped to organize, and so have quite a few of the other teachers.

“We are not losing the arts program,” Melissa fumes multiple times a week. “I need my prep to keep my sanity.”

“Amen to that,” Barbara usually remarks after that.

“If it means volunteering a few hours here or there for these events, I’ll do it,” the redhead tells you when you hesitantly approach her crew about helping out.

So, here you are with Melissa at the art show.

The conversation is awkward and stilted for quite some time before she finally sighs.

“You’re doing good,” she tells you. “I haven’t seen a turn out like this in quite some time.”

“Anything for the kids,” you reply. “They need it.”

“Why here?” she finally asks you the question that’s been eating at her for some time- since the first day you walked in really.

“I grew up in Philly,” you tell her. “It was time to come back to my roots, and Ava offered me a position. The stars aligned for me, and I’m quite content in my decision to be back in a city school. I can help make a difference for these guys like some of my teachers did for me.”

“For someone who’s friends with Ava, you sure have a lot more heart than I thought you would,” she admits.

You smile. “Thank you. That means a lot to me.”

“How long you two been friends? Meet in college at the clubs?”

“Nah,” you laugh softly. “I grew up with Ava living a few houses down from me. We’ve been friends since I was the shy girl in the first grade who sat by myself at recess. Next thing I know, she’s next to me rambling on about whatever first grade drama was happening and telling me I was her girl. I still don’t know why she chose me to come up to that day. Maybe it’s because I actually listened to her. But we’ve been stuck together since that day.”

“You’re good for her,” Melissa tells you. “I haven’t seen Ava put in this much effort to something that doesn’t directly benefit her before. And I think it really does have something to do with you being here and leading a lot of it.”

“Thank you,” you smile again.

That night is where everything starts to change. Melissa slowly starts to show you the other side of her personality- the kind, would take a bullet for you if she had to side. You quite like it.

As the months go on, you still work tirelessly to put together different events to try to save the arts. Melissa even helps you plan a few, and she offers her “I know a guy” line when you’re looking for different ways to draw people in. The two of you begin to work closely in order to make sure that these events happen, and that they’re good. The redhead sees how hard you work and how driven you are. She respects it.

  You find yourselves chaperoning quite a few events- choir shows, band shows, a few school dances…

And while you’re at these events, the redhead sticks by your side through most of the nights. She finds that she quite likes being around you actually. She lets you into her personal life slowly. You tell her little bits about your life while still not revealing that you come from the line that you do.

She realizes that she’s starting to fall for you- and that terrifies her to no end. But she can’t quite pull herself away from you. Not now. Not after getting to know you and see how down to earth and honest you are with what you do- not after you’ve shown her that you’re here to stay and you’re going to show up for these kids in any way you possibly can.

Finally, the biggest event that you’ve planned, and your last attempt at hitting the quota to keep the arts program around for another year (you don’t even want to think about having to go through this charade all over again next year) is here. 

It’s another AvaFest kind of deal, but you’re able to utilize the outside part of your school grounds this year. Inside, there are smaller games, a few tables from local vendors, music provided by Janine’s ex-boyfriend. Outside though, is a whole other story. It practically looks like a carnival.

There’s a ball toss, a free-throw game, a balloon dart stand, a game to throw footballs through some holes, the dunk tank has been moved outside and a handful of teachers have volunteered to partake in it… all of the ticket stands and games are being run by various teachers and aides in the school. And the assortment of goodies around? Apparently, Melissa knows quite a few guys who participate in the food industry because you have a grilled cheese stand, a lemonade stand, a guy who’s making hoagies… she even knew a guy to come head a cotton candy machine for the event. And that’s not even naming all of the vendors.

You don’t have any assigned places to be because you’re overseeing that the event runs smoothly. So you’re milling about with your clipboard in hand, checking over the different stands. And while you expected Melissa to sit at the ticket table with Barbara, she follows you around and is your right hand man throughout the night. She checks in with the people that she knows, shoots the shit, and helps you solve any issues that arise through the night- not that there are many. You worked your ass off to ensure that everybody participating in this school wide event was compensated for their time and hard work.

“You really outdid yourself, hun,” Melissa comments quietly once you’ve found a moment to just stand and take it all in.

“Oh, I couldn’t have done it without everyone else helping,” you brush off her compliment. “You were a really big help, so thank you.”

“We all pitched in, but you’re the brains behind all of this,” she tells you. “Don’t sell yourself short. This jawn just might have to become an annual thing.”

“Oh, don’t remind me of what I’m going to have to pull of next year,” you groan playfully. “After this, I’m done with ideas for the year.”

“That ain’t true, and you know it. If something else comes up, you and I both know you’ll be the first one organizing something.”

“I know,” you sigh. But then you smile softly. “It’s all for the kids though. They deserve it.”

“They do,” she agrees. “And because of you, they’re gonna get it.” She gently hip checks you.

You blush and shrug.

“You got a real knack for this. If you weren’t such a good teacher, I’d tell you to go into professional party planning,” the redhead quips. She doesn’t know that you’ve been helping plan company parties with your parents for years now.

“It’s more a hobby,” you tell her. “I’m a teacher at heart.”

“A teacher with a damn good heart,” she corrects you.

“You think this is all gonna be worth it?” you ask her nervously. “Think we’re gonna hit the mark?”

“I’d put money on it,” she tells you honestly. “With the last events you’ve organized, and this one being our biggest success yet, I think we’ll exceed it.”

“God, I hope so.”

You don’t make enough money to keep the funding for the arts program. You’re devastated. Absolutely crushed. You burst into tears when Ava announces that bit of information sadly at the next staff meeting, rushing out of the room to try to compose yourself.

Melissa runs after you. You don’t really know why, but she does. 

“Hey,” she comes into your classroom, grabbing a tissue on her way over to you. She gently wipes your tears away. “We did our best. You did your best. And that… is enough.”

“It isn’t though,” you choke out. “We’re losing the arts program, and those teachers are going to be let go, and I-”

“I’m sure Ava will find somewhere else for them to be placed,” Melissa tries to comfort you.

“And- and we’re going to lose our preps, and… and the kids deserve to have the arts!” you cry. “When I was in school, that was my favorite part of the day, and now they won’t be able to experience that joy!”

“I’m sure you’ll find a way to incorporate it into your lessons,” the redhead tells you gently as she pulls you into a hug. “You did everything you could… but sometimes at the end of the day, life sucks.”

“It’s not fair,” you whine.

“Life ain’t always fair, hun,” Melissa reminds you. “But we do our best with what we’ve been given. And now, all the money that we raised can go into buying supplies for the kids next year.”

You sigh and wipe at the last of your tears. You take a deep breath. “Y-yeah. Okay,” you whisper sadly.

“It’s gonna be okay, hun,” she promises you. “And who knows, maybe a miracle will happen, and we’ll get to keep the programs.”

And just like that, her words give you an idea. You know how you can make a miracle happen. You have to contain your excitement as the thought pops into your head. The two of you return to the staff meeting where Ava is rambling on about who knows what, but you’re itching to get out of there.

Once you’re dismissed, you head back to your classroom, open up your laptop and log in. You check your bank account balances, and pleased with the numbers, you pull up the GoFundMe page that was up for the school.

“You’re stayin’ late again tonight?” Melissa knocks on your door, purse slung over her shoulder and sunglasses already on.

“Just a few minutes,” you look up and smile at her. “I have a few emails I have to respond to.”

“Alright,” she taps the doorframe a few times. “Try to have a good night, yeah?”

“I will,” you tell her. “You too, Melissa.”

“Thanks, hun.” 

With that, she’s off, and you can go back to what you were doing. You click on the “Donate Now” button without hesitation.

You donate the first $50,000, and then another $50,000 anonymously, and you absolutely beam when you see that you’ve hit your goal and then surpassed it. Satisfied, you close out of the tabs and close your laptop. Now, you just have to wait for tomorrow morning when Ava, the organizer of the fundraiser, sees the email. You know she won’t see it tonight- she’s off the clock.

A few hours later, you get a text from your best friend.

Hey, you still holding up ok? she sends.

I’m alright, you text back. So she hadn’t seen the donations yet. I’m drinking wine right now if you want to come over.

Girl, say less.

She’s over at your house in less than fifteen minutes, and it takes everything in you to not tell her what you had done. She heads home after finishing off the bottle, bidding you a goodnight and a see you tomorrow.

You sleep like a baby that night.

The next morning, you’re back in your classroom setting up your science experiment for the day when Ava’s voice comes over the intercom.

“Attention Abbott Elementary: there is a mandatory staff meeting, right now. Start heading down to the library. That means you, Schemmenti.”

You grin as you stand back up straight and make your way for the door. Right before you exit, you put on your best neutral face.

“Damn,” Melissa groans as she leaves her room. “Tell your friend not to call me out like that. I skip on meeting, and she’s all over me.”

“I don’t control what she does, and you know that,” you chuckle.

“What do you think this is about?” she asks you as the two of you make your way down the hall.

You shrug. “For all I know, it could be that she got a manicure and wants to show it off.”

The two of you find seats at your table, Barbara arrive a few seconds later.

“What on Earth could this woman have forgotten to tell us yesterday?” the kindergarten teacher huffs. “I have things to do!”

“I was setting up my science experiments for the day,” you grumble. “If this isn’t worth it, I’m making her set the rest of it up.” You know it will be worth it.

“Good morning, subordinates!” Ava makes it known that she’s entering the library. “I have some great news!”

Everyone silently urges her to go on.

“I have no idea who did this- sure as hell wasn’t me- but, we got some donations after school yesterday!” She projects the webpage up onto the screen.

Everyone gasps when they see how much money had been donated last night. To keep up appearances, your eyes widen, your jaw drops, and you well up with tears. Acting classes from when you were younger sure are paying off now.

“Oh my- Oh my god!” you shout, and Melissa is hugging you tightly.

“So, thanks to these very generous donations, we’re able to keep the arts programs up and running for at least the next three years!” Ava grins.

“Well, who donated?” Janine asks. “We have to find out so we can thank them!”

“Who cares?” Ava rebuts. “We got what we wanted! Now back to work, slackers!”

You stay in your seat, pretending to be in complete and utter shock while everyone else starts to get up. Almost every teacher comes up congratulating you and telling you that your hard work paid off. Melissa sits with you, happy as can be, and only reaffirming what everyone else is already telling you. Only once everyone else has left does she say anything else.

“Y/N,” she grins. “This is incredible. I told you your hard work would pay off. It’s a freakin’ miracle!”

“Y-Yeah,” you match her smile. “God, this is great.”

The two of you sit there for some time, chatting about how you could use some of the funding to buy more supplies and the likes until you remember you still have to finish setting up your science materials.

“Oh shit!” you whisper. “I- I gotta go finish setting up before the kids come in!” You take off in the direction of your room, and the redhead can only watch you as you go with a lovestruck look in her eyes.

When you’re halfway there, you hear Ava’s voice over the speaker again. “Y/N, my office.”

“Fuck,” you mumble as you halt sprinting down the hallway and turn to make your way down to her room. There was no way you would be able to finish preparing for today at this rate.

“This better be quick. I have to-”

“You donated that money, didn’t you?” Ava gets right to the point.

Your eyes widen. Your cover was blown with her, meaning it was going to be blown quickly among your colleagues as well.

“Well, was it?”

You nod subtly. “But please… don’t say anything. Please. I did it for the kids, and I have enough stashed away, and-”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” your best friend grins. “Why you think I didn’t say nothin’ at the meeting today?”

“You’re the best,” you sigh in relief.

“Don’t I know it,” the principal cackles. “Now, fo’ real. Come shoot an instagram video with me to announce that we met our goal.”

“Ava, I actually have-”

“I’ll tell,” she singsongs. “C’mon. We need our fearless leader and organizer to be part of the video.”

“Fine.”

The two of you finish the video about five minutes before the kids will start to show up, and you practically sprint back to your classroom to attempt the impossible task of finishing setting up.

When you get there though, Melissa is in your room just finishing up the last station.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you say quietly as you make your way into the room.

“Nah,” she shrugs. “But I wanted to. I got the time.”

“Thank you,” you grin.

“Noticed your coffee cup was empty too,” she notes. “So I made you a new one. Hope that’s alright.”

You walk over to your desk and take a sip of the warm drink. It’s perfect.

“Thank you,” you make your way over to her and squeeze her shoulder gently. “Seriously. You just made my day.”

“Nah, that mysterious donor did,” she chuckles. “But I’m glad I could help. Have a good morning, and I’ll see you at lunch?”

“Yes, ma’am,” you mock salute her. “Thank you again.”

You greet your children at the door, coffee mug and heart both full. Melissa greets her own students, but she can’t stop watching you. You’re just… so perfect. She knows she’s falling for you hard. Maybe at the end of the week she’ll confess her feelings- no, she will. She makes up her mind: she’s going to confess her feelings to you by Friday, if not before. She just has to work up the nerve to do it.

At lunch, the conversation is almost solely on who the mystery donor is. You play dumb, and you tell everyone that you’re just happy the school gets to keep their program from next to Melissa.

“I know a guy who could find out for us,” the redhead tells your colleagues.

“Oh, do it,” Janine grins. “That way, we can have our kids make cards and send them to the person to thank them! Oh my god- do you guys think our donor is Taylor Swift?! She does stuff like this sometimes!”

“She usually puts her name to it,” you chuckle. “But seriously, I think we should just be grateful. Ava and I already thanked the person on the school’s webpage and social media, and I think that should suffice.” You really don’t want to be found out.

“I already got the guy on the line,” Melissa rolls her eyes as she types away on her phone. “I’m gonna have to make a tray of ziti and some meatballs as payment though.”

You bite your lip. You really, truly pray that her guy won’t be able to find you out. But, her people usually come through for her… maybe just this once, they won’t be able to?

“Oi, Y/N,” Melissa taps your elbow gently.

“Hm?”

“We lost ya there for a second,” she tells you. “I asked if you would come over to help me make the food, since we’s in this situation because of your fundraiser.”

“Oh,” you blush. “Uh, sure. When?”

“You got anything goin’ on tonight?” she asks. You shake your head. “Then tonight. I’ll text you my address. Bring a bottle of wine.” At that moment, she silently promises herself she’ll talk to you about her feelings for you.

You nod and continue to eat your lunch quietly, letting the conversation around you continue as you continuously plead with the lord that they don’t find out it’s you who donated all that money.

You show up to your coworker’s house promptly at 5:30, like she asked, with a nicer bottle of wine in hand. You hope she’ll like it.

When she opens the door, you have to stop yourself from blushing at the sight of her. You’ve seen her at school, and you wouldn’t admit it to anyone else, but you find her attractive there. In the comfort of her own home though, she’s almost even more gorgeous.

“Hey,” she opens the door. “C’mon in. I got all the stuff ready.”

You enter quietly, offering her the bottle of wine. She pulls her glasses from off the top of her head and puts them on before inspecting the bottle.

“Damn,” she says. “You got good taste, but expensive taste.”

“I figured I could splurge for a celebration,” you offer up.

She leads you to the kitchen and pulls out two wine glasses before pouring some into each. Once you have yours in hand, she quietly raises her own in a toast.

“To this mystery donor,” she says quietly. You clink your glass with hers before sipping on the wine.

By the time all of the food is in the oven, the two of you have gotten through about three quarters of the bottle and plan to finish off the rest on her couch.

“This was nice,” you tell her quietly.

“Yeah,” she hums, but you can tell her mind is clearly somewhere else.

“Hey, penny for your thoughts?” you ask her. 

She hums again, still wrapped up in her own inner turmoil over telling you that she has a thing for you. 

“Mel,” you tap her gently, the nickname rolling off of your tongue for the first time. 

She snaps out of her trance.

“What’s goin’ on in that pretty little head of yours?” you ask softly.

She bites her lip nervously before whispering, “Please don’t hate me for this.” And then she gently presses her lips to your own.

Your eyes widen before you kiss her back just as tenderly. When you need air, you pull back.

“Oh, god,” she whispers.

“Hey,” you set a warm hand on her knee. And then you lean in and kiss her again so she knows that you aren’t upset with her; you don’t hate her.

“So…” she hums when you two part again. “I- I have a thing for you.”

“You wouldn’t say?” you tease her. “If it wasn’t clear, I like you too. I just didn’t think you would ever go for someone like me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she frowns. “You’re… you.”

“Yeah,” you laugh weakly as you run a hand through your hair. “I’m me. Shy, quiet, dorky… always working… friends with Ava.”

“Mm,” she hums as she shifts closer to you. “You are you: hard working, driven, down to earth, kind… heart of gold… gorgeous.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “C’mon, Mel.”

“I’m serious,” she tells you as she tucks a hair behind your ear. “I like you because you’re you… I tried to hate you so hard at the beginning of the year, and I just… couldn’t.”

“Oh yeah?” you ask her.

“Nope. From the moment I found out you were the one that changed my lock and fixed my door,” she admits.

Your eyes widen slightly at that confession. “You knew?”

“I thanked Mr. J that day, and he told me it wasn’t him,” she shrugs. “That he saw you come in early with a bag from Home Depot. I put two and two together.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you laugh. “You could’ve told me you knew.”

“There was never a right time for it,” she chuckles. “But I figure now is the right time to say thank you the way I wanted to then.” She kisses you again.

That night, the two of you talk over how you’re going to continue on with this little… situation you’ve found yourselves in. You’ll take it slow. You bid her a goodbye with a lingering kiss before climbing into your car and heading back to your house.

Sleep washes over you easily that night, content with what had just happened at Melissa’s. 

The next day continues on as it normally does, although when no one is around in the corner that your classrooms are in, the redhead will sneak into your room and kiss you passionately. She’s found that she quite likes kissing you, and you don’t mind one bit. She hasn’t heard any news from her guy, and you feel like you’re in the clear. They won’t find you out. 

But come the following day, as you’re sitting in the break room with Janine, Gregory, Jacob, and Barbara, the redhead comes storming in.

“You!” she points a finger at you. In her other hand is a stack of papers.

You practically jump out of your skin when you hear her booming voice. “Me?” you whisper.

“When the hell were you gonna tell us who you really were?!”

“Melissa,” Barbara furrows her brows. “It is too early for this.”

“No, I think now’s a great time for this. When the hell were you gonna tell us that you were the donor?! When were you gonna tell us that your Y/N, daughter of one of the most famous day traders and one of the most prestigious lawyers in the area?!”

You turn bright red, and you can’t help the tears that spring to your eyes.

“What?” Janine gasps. “Melissa, you have to-”

“See for yourselves!” She throws the papers in her hands on one of the tables.

The rest of your friends gather around to look at the papers. There’s a screenshot of the transaction with your name, and then there are a few papers from an article that ran a couple of years ago about one of your dad’s parties and being able to secure a deal. In the image, you’re in the background drinking a glass of wine next to your mother. They all look to you with wide eyes.

“Wow,” Jacob whistles. 

“When the hell were you gonna tell us?” Melissa asks you again. “You know the trouble I had to go through to get this information? How much deep diving I did once I saw your name? You coulda saved me a trip to the grocery store and hours of cooking and cleaning if you would’ve just fessed up!”

“I- I’m sorry,” you whisper as you wipe at your tears and make your way out. You head back to your classroom, coffee abandoned at your seat, and lock the door. You keep it locked despite the various knocks that come and go to check on you after your quick exit. 

“Melissa,” Barbara tries to calm her friend down. “I know you’re frustrated that you went through all of that effort, but… Y/N was doing it out of the goodness of her heart, and she clearly didn’t want to be found out.”

“I know,” the redhead sighs once her fire has died down a bit. “I was too hard on her, wasn’t I?”

“I’d say so,” the kindergarten teacher admits.

“Shit,” she mutters. “I gotta fix this.”

You only unlock it when you know it’s time for your students to start arriving, but you don’t dare go stand at your door like you usually do. You don’t want to face Melissa- not yet. You don’t think you can. You’ve only just started to explore what could happen between the two of you, and you’ve already ruined it by not telling her who you were. You avoid her for the morning.

Come lunchtime, you don’t even bother to head into the break room. You just suppose a granola bar from the stash that you have in your room will have to suffice and hold you over until you can go home today.

You lay your head down on your desk- it’s pounding because you didn’t get to finish your caffeinated drink.

You hear her boots against the floor before you can see her. You think she’s just going to pass by your door and head into her own room, but she stops in your doorway. In her hands, she has a mug full of coffee, your lunch, and dozens of handmade cards from the students.

“Hey,” she says gently.

You don’t answer. She makes her way into the room and sets everything on your desk before she makes herself comfortable.

“Eat,” she instructs.

“Not hungry,” you shrug.

“Then at least drink the coffee I made you,” she tries. “I know you get headaches when you don’t have enough caffeine in your system.”

You shrug. She raises her eyebrows though, and you meekly reach for the cup. “Thanks."

“The kids all made you cards,” she tells you gently. “Thanking you.”

You look at them with a sad smile.

“The staff put some cards in there too.”

“That’s nice,” you say numbly.

“C’mon, hun,” she sighs as she lays a warm hand on your shoulder. “This stuff normally makes you happy.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, resigned. “But I fucked up. I didn’t tell you who I was, and now you’re mad at me, and I probably ruined whatever we have goin’ on here. I’ll pay you back for the money you spent on the food by the way.”

“No need for that,” she waves you off. “Was I pissed when I saw your name on that paper? When I realized who you actually were? Yeah. A little. But… you single-handedly saved our arts program. You organized all of the events, and then when that wasn’t enough, you donated so much that we get to keep that program for at least the next five years.”

“Yeah, for the kids,” you sigh. “It’s all for them.”

“And besides,” she chuckles quietly. “If I didn’t have to make that food, I probably wouldn’t have kissed you that night, I woulda found out who you were before tellin’ you how I felt, and then I really would’ve been pissed with you, and what we have going on here wouldn’t have happened.”

You shrug. “I ruined it though.”

“You didn’t ruin nothin’. I’m not mad anymore, and I’m sorry I was as hard on you as I was,” she promises you gently. “I still like ya. I still wanna see where this goes, if you do.”

You look up at her, glassy eyes and all. “Really?”

“Yeah, hun. If this showed me anything, it’s that you’re a really good person, and I made a really good choice fallin’ for you.”

You blink a few times in disbelief. So you didn’t ruin this. You still have Melissa in your life- she doesn’t hate you.

“Do you wanna see where this goes?”

“I do,” you say softly.

Her lips meet yours, and you only part when you hear a collective gasp from the teachers who had quietly followed Melissa down to ensure that she wasn’t going to cause any fights.

The two of you pull back, cheeks red.

“Uh, surprise?” you say nervously.