#this became more serious than i intended | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

janeyseymour · 2 months

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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.

#melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti x reader #abbott elementary fanfiction #abbott elementary fanfic #abbott elementary

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thelittleliars · 2 months

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Not safe anymore?

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Warnings: fighting, angst-hurt/comfort, a bit of fluff at the end?

Words: 1.1k

Summary: A fight with your girlfriend revealed certain things.

Your girlfriend and you had rarely any fights. As much as you hated confrontations as Natasha hated showing her true feelings in the most important situations, once you were in a fight you always blew up badly. You suddenly couldn't control your thoughts and lash out more than you ever intended. Today was unfortunately one of those rare days. You couldn't recall what this argument started or what it was about. It simply became too much of a screaming match.

"God Y/N, if you don't fucking stop right now then you'll be sleeping on the damn couch." She screamed at you loudly and in a warning tone. But you didn't take her threat serious since you didn't see sleeping on the couch a punishment.

"Good, maybe then I'll be finally able to sleep again!" You screamed back at her. The words you threw at her stunned her too much to come up with words. She felt sick to the stomach at the information of you not being able to sleep next to her. You took her silence as the end of the fight and left her standing there alone. Your anger was still boiling hot inside of you that you took it out on a empty vase that stood in the living room. The smashing sound of the vase breaking into thousand of pieces alerted JARVIS. "Emergency alert. Please state what emergency this is."

"No emergency. Just an accident." You replied with short words, not being in the mood to explain the AI that you lost your temper and smashed a vase against the wall. "No help needed." You added to assure the AI to go back on standby. You grabbed your favorite blanket that laid on the couch all the time and made yourself comfortable. It was only early in the evening but you decided to take a nap since you weren't able to face your girlfriend yet anyways.

Not long after you closed your eyes you heard Natasha call out your name softly. You stayed still, even when you heard her heavy sigh that was full of sadness. The sounds of her footsteps going away was the only noise in your home. Home, that home was a whole floor you shared with Natasha in the Avengers Tower. Wanda and Vision were on the floor beneath you, the rest had an assigned room on the floor above you. The footsteps came back and sound got louder, she was walking towards you. She placed something underneath your blanket, it was a stuffed Llama but not any stuffed Llama, it was your favorite. Natasha gifted it to you on Valentine's day two years ago. Neither of you were a huge fans of that day so you weren't mad that she went on a mission. When she came back she told you she had a little something for you. She saw it in the shop they arrested the criminal and the Llama reminded her of you so she bought it.

You also felt her giving you a quick kiss on your head. This gesture simply warmed your heart with so much love for her. As you drifted off to sleep, the anger you felt prior was now long forgotten. The second you were awake your ears picked up the sound or rather noises of a tropical rainforest. That was Natasha's doing, she often listened to tropical rainforest ambience sounds to calm herself. You quickly got up and searched for her. She sat on her reading chair in your little library room, a book in her hand but she was starring at the wall instead of reading the words in the book. Her expression was blank and difficult to make out what she was feeling, she hid behind a mask they taught her in the red room. You carefully knocked on the door frame, not wanting to startle her. She turned her head towards you, her eyes ranked all over your face trying to read you as she so often did when you were lost in your thoughts.

"Is the book any good? Didn't have the time to read it yet." You started a conversation. She shook her head then she sighed loudly. "I don't know. I couldn't comprehend the words I was reading." She stood up and put the book back in it destined spot. "I'm sorry." You nodded in acknowledgment. "I'm sorry too Nat." There was a long moment of silence, this wasn't anything like her. "Are you alright?"

She shook her head. "Not really. How did this even happen? Where did we go wrong?" Natasha finally turned back around to look at you. You finally saw her true expression. Pain, hurt, confusion and a bit of heartbreak. "I don't know but Tash, this was only a little fight. We had worse ones." She looked away from you and glanced at the book spines instead. You walked further in the room and stopped a few feet away from her. You rested a hand on the back of her nearest arm. "You can't fall asleep next to me... for how long?"

"I-I'm not sure. It has been going for a while though." You admitted. "Is me not being able to sleep the cause for how you are right now?" The fact that you didn't realize the deeper meaning behind this hurt her more than anything. "You really don't see how it's related?" The look in your eyes told her enough. "At the beginning of our relationship you told me that only trust and feeling safe lets you fall asleep."

"Oh my god." The color left your face. "What I yelled at you was out of line and so not true. Natasha my love, me not being able to fall asleep has absolutely nothing to do with you. I don't feel safe anywhere but with you. The same with trust." You searched for her eyes and begged her to believe you. She pulled you closer and hugged you. You put your arms around her too and held her tightly. Once you weren't hugging anymore she held both of your hands. "If it's not me then why can't you sleep anymore? Why didn't you tell me?"

"That one mission messed with my head a bit too much and it scared me. I'm honestly not sure myself why I hadn't told you about the mission nor that I can't sleep. I think part of me was too embarrassed and didn't want to bother you with it."

"Detka even you bothering me wouldn't actually bother me. How many time have I told you that in all of our years of being together?" "Probably way too many times." She smiled before planting a short kiss on your lips. "Let's head to bed yeah? We can cuddle and talk about the awful mission that messed with your head."

"And after that I need you telling me how much you're in love me because that's like a lullaby." She kissed you once again before agreeing.

#natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff #black widow #natasha romanoff x you #black widow x you

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uglyducklingofthe2000s · 7 months

Text

You Hurt Me Pt 3 - LN

Summary: After having lost each other, news brings y/n front and centre to Lando. And unlike last time he’s not letting her go, he’s fighting for this woman. But will y/n let him fight when she doesn’t think there’s anything left?

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

The first couple months took it’s tull on both y/n and Lando. Neither of them were coping all that well, but eventually they had to move on. Well their friends forced them to stop pouting over the hurt and loss that they were feeling. A couple months eventually hit the 6 month mark then that became a year and while there was reminders of each other. Both of them managed to redirect their attention, though friends might argue that neither of them moved on.

Everything is fine, till Lando sees posts of her in a wedding dress in a wedding dress shop. She’s drinking champagne and seems to make a point of trying on the biggest and most extravagant dress which he knows she’d never actually wear for her wedding.

That’s when something in Lando snapped.

“What do you mean?” Max questions when Lando admits he’s intending to find a way to track y/n down and speak to her properly.

“I mean I can’t let her marry some guy.”

“You mean you can’t let her marry someone who isn’t you.” Max corrects with a sigh. He really though Lando would at least let y/n move on even if he never could. “You can’t do this to her. I’m saying this as your best friend who wants the best for you.”

“She is the best for me.”

Now that isn’t something he can argue with, but he might argue that Lando isn’t the best thing for her anymore. He’s never mentioned it to Lando but he has spoke to y/n a few times across the span of the past year and she seems to finally be in a good place. Admittedly he didn’t realise it might be because of a new serious relationship that is moving so fast that she’s engaged and due to get married.

“I know.” Max murmurs then shifting back. “But I can’t help you do this.”

Lando really do want to argue with his friend and question his support of him but he also knows that’s not fair.

There’s a brief moment moment of doubt in his actions as Lando stands outside y/n’s apartment. What if her new partner is there? What if she slams the door in his face? What if she’s not even home?

No. Lights are on and she’s too money conscious to leave them on if she’s not home.

But he doesn’t even get to knock when he hears a voice.

“Lando?” A very slurred, very hiccupy voice speaks up from behind him. Joined by a car door slamming. “Or have I just drank that much?”

Spinning around to find y/n leaning against a lamppost, her stance giving away that she’s had more than too much to drink. She’s actually bare foot and there’s no shoes in sight so he has to assume they were sacrificed as part of the night.

“Are you getting married?” Lando asks, maybe being a bit of a dick by using her drunk state to pull out her unfiltered honesty.

“Oh so you are really here. Well…if you came all this war, then you might as well come in to take advantage of me like this.” Y/n yawns while Lando hesitates to help her. “I never thought I’d see the day that you don’t make a grab for me.”

“Didn’t think it was my place to do that anymore.”

“No. Because, I’m engaged right?” She snorts while stumbling to her door and pulling her key from her bag that she managed to keep track of, unlike her shoes.

Lando’s really unsure of how to reply to her nonchalant attitude about her being engaged and him appearing like her engagement was a beacon for him to following and destroy.

He follows her inside, closing the door and wondering where on earth this fiancé might be.

“You can stop looking around like someone’s waiting to punch you in the face. We’re the only ones here.” Y/n states while dumping her bag down and opening the fridge. “In fact, I live alone.”

“I’m confused.”

“Yeah, you would be. I’m not getting married, I’m not even in a relationship…the girls and I went out after a girls bottomless brunch and passed a wedding dress shop. Since we’re all single, we thought it’d be funny to do a fashion show trying them on. For the record it was funny and I’d do it again because it was so fun.” Y/n giggles to herself before sighing as she looks at him. “But why does any of that matter to you?”

Why does it matter? He can’t believe she’s asking that, but then again he was the one who ruined things. It makes sense for her to think that he wouldn’t care after all this time. Especially since he has been spotted with multiple women over the past year, but he didn’t actually think that she would be keeping up with anything to do with him.

His turn to be honest.

“Because I love you and I can’t let you ever marry someone else.” Lando states which definitely wasn’t what she was expecting. “So I’m here to make sure you know that.”

“You know that’s exactly what a psychotic ex would say right?” She questions, the alcohol clearly making her slightly emotionally removed from the whole situation. “You’re insane showing up here over a year later as if you have a right to claim anything here. There’s nothing to fight for anymore.”

“That’s not true.” Lando argues without thinking. “You don’t mean that. And you know what, I’m better than a year ago. I was stupid not to argue and fight for you when I had the chance. I’m not going to waste this because if I leave here, then I don’t think you’d ever let me see you again and I can’t-I can’t fucking live with that.”

Y/n stares at him blankly for almost a minute of agonising silence and for most of it, Lando is pretty sure she’s trying to figure out the least disruptive way to get him out of her house.

“Y/n?”

“You are by far my biggest regret…but please don’t make my sober self hate me for doing this.” Y/n whispers closing the space between them. Her lips press against his in an immediately accepted kiss that he engages in without hesitation.

His senses are filled with her, the taste of her as a combination of her favourite drink and the sweet taste of her lip gloss while the same perfume that she wore the whole time they dated and her coolness of her skin from being out in the night air brush his hands as he holds her.

He wants more.

But he also wants her to be sober so he pulls back and sighs knowing what the right thing to do here is.

“You should go to bed, we can talk in the morning.” Lando states then making her look at him.

“If you think you’re sleeping on my sofa and getting out of this just because I’ve had more than a little bit to drink then you’re mistaken…I’m not letting you leave me when I’m this touched starved.” Y/n frowns before speaking up again quickly. “I’m not asking for sex, I just…want you there.”

“Ok, I can’t argue with that.” Lando nods smiling as she takes his hand, linking it with her own.

#f1 #fanfic #formula 1 #lando norris x reader #lando norris x y/n #lando x reader #lando #norris #lando norris #lando norris fanfic #lando norris imagine #ln4 imagine #ln4 #ln4 x reader

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renthony · 10 months

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hey!! i am genuinely curious about how the catholic church helped implement the hays code, would you be able to tell me more/do you have any good reading material about it? thanks so much!!

This has been sitting in my inbox for aaaaaages, because I want to do it justice! It's actually a big facet of my research project that I'm going to go into much, much, much more depth on, but here's the short(er) summary:

The foundational text of the Hays Code was written by two Catholics: a Jesuit priest named Father Daniel Lord, and a man named Martin Quigley, who was the editor of the Motion Picture Herald. They grounded their guidelines in Catholic morality and values, based on the idea that art could be a vehicle for evil by negatively influencing the actions of those who view it.

The original list of guidelines written by Lord and Quigley was adapted into the Production Code, popularly known as the "Hays Code" after William Hays, the president of the Production Code Administration that enforced it. As president of the PCA, William Hays appointed a staunch Catholic man called Joseph Breen to enforce the code. Breen enforced it aggressively, confiscating the original reels of films he deemed inappropriate and against the Code. Many lost films from this era are only "lost" because Joseph Breen personally had them destroyed. Some were rediscovered later, but many were completely purged from existence.

When Breen died in 1965, Variety magazine wrote, "More than any single individual, he shaped the moral stature of the American moral picture." He was a very, very big deal, and was directly responsible for censoring more films than I could even begin to list here.

In 1937, Olga J. Martin, Joseph Breen’s secretary, said, “To an impoverished country which had become religious and serious-minded, the sex attitudes of the post-war period became grotesquely unreal and antedated. The public at large wanted to forget its own derelictions of the ‘gay twenties.' The stage was set for the moral crusade.”

In 1936, once the Code was being fully enforced on filmmakers by Joseph Breen, a letter was issued by the office of Pope Pius XI that praised Breen's work, and encouraged all good Catholics to support film censorship.

The letter read in part, "From time to time, the Bishops will do well to recall to the motion picture industry that, amid the cares of their pastoral ministry, they are under obligation to interest themselves in every form of decent and healthy recreation because they are responsible before God for the moral welfare of their people even during their time of leisure. Their sacred calling constrains them to proclaim clearly and openly that unhealthy and impure entertainment destroys the moral fibre of a nation. They will likewise remind the motion picture industry that the demands which they make regard not only the Catholics but all who patronize the cinema."

Basically, this letter was a reminder from the Papal authority that bishops and priests are supposed to stop people from engaging with "lewd" or "obscene" art. That meant supporting things like the Hays Code.

So, to summarize: the original text of the Hays Code was written by two Catholics, including a priest. The biggest and most aggressive censor under the Code was a Catholic man, who had the full support and approval of the Pope at the time. Good Catholics were called en-masse to support the Hays Code, because it was intentionally written to line up with Catholic teachings.

There's a lot more to say on the subject, and if you're interested in reading more on your own, I recommend the book "Pre-Code Hollywood: Sex, Immorality, and Insurrection in American Cinema, 1930-1934," by Thomas Doherty. There are plenty other sources I can recommend on request, but that's a solid place to start.

(And if I can toot my own horn, I'm intending to do a video lecture series all about American film censorship and the Hays Code. Pledging to my Patreon helps keep me fed and housed while I do all this damn research.)

#original post

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simpingland · 17 days

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Hi hello how are ya I'd like to request something

Can you write something with Ewan Mitchell and his co star (fem pronounce) where they're at an interview and goofing off, reader joking about getting sleep while they're putting on wigs for hours and stuff like that, maybe a little more serious talk about their characters

(Readers character is jaces twin and aemonds love interest)

Thank you!

Flirting and sleeping// Ewan Michael x fem!actress.

Summary: playing Aemond's love interest have the perks of giving you a flirty partner during promotion and a comfortable shoulder to sleep on set.

Gif not mine

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The last interview of the day, after a whole week of promotion. Always the same questions, always the same answers. Keeping your outfit spotless for a whole day, with your make-up intact and hours of sleep accumulated.

"How is it possible that you are always sleepy?" Your colleague Ewan asked you when he saw you yawning.

"I'm a very reflective person, the night inspires me" you joked, and watched as he shook his head, smiling.

"These things feel like an eternity," he complained.

You were about to agree with him when the new interviewer sat down opposite. She greeted you, and Ewan, as always, was a gentleman, serious and attentive.

You, however, found it hard to pay as much attention. You glanced sideways at Ewan's every gesture, and he seemed to make a great effort to listen. After all this time you had learned to read his expression of feigned listening as well as his real one.

"After so many serious scenes, I suppose you keep your spirits up between scenes...are you bored on set or are you too busy?" The girl looked at the two of you.

"I tend to stay focused. Getting into Aemond's mind is quite complicated..." Ewan's tone amused you. He turned to look at you. "What?"

You let out a laugh, the interviewer looking confused at the scene.

"Sorry honey," you turned to the girl, "but Ewan is lying to you. He was concentrating at the beginning, when he took his job very seriously."

You watched as Ewan leaned back in his chair, hiding a smile and waiting for you to tease him, which he quite enjoyed.

"This guy was scary on the first day."

"It's thanks to the costume and make-up team," he interrupted.

"Oh, no, Ewan, I mean the day of the script reading. That sweatshirt was terrifying." What you said made the interviewer laugh, and Ewan joined in the fake discussion you had formed.

"You speak out of envy," he replied, crossing his legs.

"For this kind of thing, he's very formal. They always put together nice outfits for him, but in real life, it's nothing like that. "

"And what's Ewan like in real life?" Ewan himself asked.

"He's weird... weird and kind of flirty."

He turned red, shaking his head as the interviewer let you speak. You were basically getting more information out for her than she intended to get.

"Yeah, yeah...there's nothing shy about this guy here. He makes all the girls on the set smile with his 'good morning, love'. And they all love to put him his wig in the morning, his patch..."

"Why don't you let the girl do the interview?" Your partner interrupted you with mock seriousness.

"Excuse me, but I'm answering the question. Ewan was very focused at first. No one dared speak to him once he put on that wonderful costume. But as soon as Susan in make-up told him he looked 'sexy'..." you snapped your fingers. "He became a sex symbol on set and enjoys it like nobody's business. He doesn't get bored on set because he spends the hours between scenes practising with his sword, chatting with the crew when he goes to get his coffee..."

"You should tell her how you spend your breaks..." he grinned mischievously. You looked at him, hiding a smile. You mostly spent them with him, but people didn't need to know that.

"You tell her."

"She spends her dead hours asleep or breaking things." The interviewer let out another laugh. "Oh, yes, she's snored through her make-up. I've had to put up with her nodding her head every morning. And the few times she was awake, she would steal my wig to take pictures. Remember what Susan said to you when she caught you?" she looked at you as if to scold you, and you looked ashamed.

"That I was going to mess it up..."

"Exactly! This girl is a mess on legs. The first day of shooting, she tore the fabric of her cape. The first day we shot together, she almost broke the carriage window... and the wine glass. Let's not forget the wine glass on the last day."

"I dented it," you confessed to the girl.

"The whole team was praying you'd fall asleep before you touched any more stuff." Continued your partner looking back at you.

"I've had the broken stuff deducted from my pay, you know."

"Yeah? And how much money have you earned then?"

"Let's just say...I've gone into debt to HBO..."

You laughed at your own joke as Ewan tried to refocus on the poor interviewer. You really had been the clumsiest person on set, and that was in stark contrast to the careful attitude Ewan had had in that same period. Many times, you had led him astray, getting him involved in a game where you both could let off steam while the sets were being set up. He loved to show you his swordsmanship, and of course, he was good at it. He had experience.

But on some other days, when it was anynof your turns to act, Ewan was much more focused, and although you were embarrassed to entertain him at first, he always made a point of sitting next to you. He helped you revise as much as you helped him. And while your gallery was filled with pictures of you making an idiot of yourself with his wig, and Ewan making an idiot of himself with his wig too, Ewan had his gallery filled with pictures of you asleep in the most unlikely places on the set, and pictures of you posing with whatever mess you had made. And Tom had been in charge of recording those occasions when you slept leaning on Ewan's shoulder while he reread his script. That would stay between you two, and you'd been going through the photos before bed for months, unaware that Ewan was doing exactly the same thing, grateful to have an excuse like promotion to be near you all the time.

"The relationship between your characters has been a much-discussed topic on the network and among fans. The girl changed the subject to a more serious one, to the one that really mattered, the series.

"You mean incest?" you asked.

"More like the feud between Blacks and Greens."

"Oh, right..."

"That's the thing with this series," Ewan interrupted. "The incest is the least of your worries."

"Right, silly me," you said wryly.

"It's common sense, of course."

You smiled at each other, admiring each other fondly, perhaps too fondly, as you always did, leaving the girl a bit of an outsider, and were surprised when she asked again.

"The good thing is that you don't look like each other. The relationship you have in the plot is a parallel to Romeo and Juliet. How do you approach this dynamic? Do you want it to be really romantic or something toxic like Rhaenyra and Daemon?"

"That I suppose can always be left to the audience's opinion," reasoned your partner. "For me there's certainly something romantic about it. Aemond is a character that transforms into something perverse but at the beginning he didn't seem to have such a strong quality. The writers wanted to make him that way, evolved. And I think her character is designed not to contrast but to show that there is something good in Aemond." You smiled downward as you listened to him, you had already talked about it during rehearsals. "When we did the casting, the director told me that they were looking for an actress with a sweet aura, well, so that ond couldn't naturally react violently towards her. They introduced me to this arse next to me and... you get a bit attached to her.

"I love working with Ewan, he's always so flattering..."

The girl smiled at you before asking.

"You're okay with the romance?"

"Well..." you thought for a second. Of course, the kiss you two had just rolled around was too passionate for it to be a toxic relationship. You shot the kiss as a very intimate scene, where Aemond approached your character with some fear, and it took you a moment to return the kiss. It was a slow kiss, tense and sweet. But when you return it, it was hard to separate again. Of course, what was left to shoot that day was done with flushed cheeks and dodging glances. Sparks had been flying between you and Ewan since the day you were brought together in that room for the test.

"Yes, I think it's different from Rhaenyra and Daemon. There's a lot more respect and a lot more equality between them. From the very beginning, we were going to treat our plot from the 'first love' trope, and we saw no better way to recite our lines than the longing and desire they have for each other. And how much Ewan and I love each other transcends the screen too much."

You saw how intensely he looked at you, maybe you had said too much. You were silent for too many seconds. You put on that mischievous grin again. "As much as Ewan is a great actor, I don't think anyone can pretend to hate me."

"Wow, that means the next season is going to be very promising for your fans. Thank you so much for this time, and for the tidbits from the set."

"It's been a pleasure, honey," you dismissed her.

"Our pleasure, I love your t-shirt, by the way," said Ewan, the girl was wearing a t-shirt with a poster of Daemon and Aemond on it.

You didn't know how to look at him after that. Had your answer been something of a confession? Maybe the kiss hadn't been that intense for him and you had just made a fool of yourself. Of course it was a bit weird the last ten minutes of your promo day.

You shared a taxi to the hotel, with silly small talk. When you arrived, you were walking up a flight of stairs when your heel broke.

"Oh my God, I can't believe it! My stylist is going to kill me!" You picked up your precious heels, Ewan didn't laugh at you, but he did smile at your desperation.

"Don't worry, we'll ask someone to get us some glue."

"A branded heel fixed with glue?"

"Well, it certainly wasn't made of steel, if it breaks easy it's easy to fix."

You walked all the way up the stairs barefoot. Ewan stopped.

"What are you doing?" You asked as you saw him stand back and pull out his mobile phone.

"Smile and show that heel," he asked. When you did he took the picture and smiled to himself. "For the collection. "

"Thanks to your tip-off they won't get me for period films, you know."

"You started it, I remind you. You've taken away my reputation as a serious, up-and-coming actor."

Ewan grabbed your heels from your hand as he saw you with your hands full with your mobile and wallet.

"The truth is, that poor girl was trying to be professional and we got into a play fight in front of her."

"I think she had fun. Of course, after always answering the same thing, this time I remembered why I like this job so much."

"I hope I didn't offend you, Ewan. You know it was all a joke."

You stopped at his door, yours was just opposite.

"All of it, all of it?"

"What do you mean?"

He licked his lips, thinking about how to phrase the question. You knew what he meant, now came the awkward part. Why the hell did you start talking about love?

"All the weeks since I've known you have been filled with something...special. And you were right when you said that I can't pretend to be repulsed by you, because... I definitely feel the opposite. I like every minute that you are beside me, not only for how talented you are but...how sweet and funny everything is with you. You're also quite gorgeous if I am allawed to say. And no, it's nothing of a method actor if I tell you that I have a crush on your bones just because Aemond would be... I want to make sure this feeling isn't just mine."

"You're telling me you like me?"

"Yeah, basically yes."

"And you're asking me if I like you?" You were clearly in shock.

"It's good to know you understand me...now I need an answer."

Yes, OF COURSE YOU DO. For some reason nothing came out of your mouth, and you could only look at him. Ewan read that silence as a definitive no and, after swallowing his breath, he nodded and gave up without losing his gallantry.

"I'm going to call room service and have them bring some glue."

He turned to open his door as you suddenly became aware of everything. You didn't know what he was babbling about when he opened it, but when he turned again to offer you passage, you jumped on him. You grabbed his face with impetus, and kissed his thin lips again as you had that day on the set. This time there was something even more authentic. Ewan held your waist as he regained his balance. This kiss surpassed the one in the scene, this one felt completely free, completely real and without consequence. Needless to say, you didn't go back to sleep in your room for the rest of the promo tour.

#house of the dragon fanfiction #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell fanfic #ewan mitchell x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #prince aemond #house of the dragon #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen imagine #hotd imagine #hotd x reader #hotd fanfic #hotd

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eyesxxyou · 6 months

Text

Confessions pt.iii

♡ hobie brown x religious!reader

rating. m

word count. 7.7k

synopsis. after years of being missing, Hobie finally returns back to his hometown where his childhood crush still waits for him. but you're more dedicated to God than ever and he couldn't care less. he wants you and he intends show you all that you're missing out on

♡ °｡ ⋆⸜ warning: religious themes, straight up blasphemy, like serious sacrilege, abuse, a lot of angst, oral (m.recieving), mentions of other sexual acts (such as fingering, cumming in chest, masturbation, and outercourse), sex in church, riding, first time sex, squirting, confessions ;))), disownment, Hobie being a bit of an avoidant asshole

Part.ii

Hobie let you keep the pictures you took. “So you have something better to touch yourself to at night.” He winked at you as he neatly tucked the two pictures into your bra. Anywhere else, your parents might have found them. He was always thinking ahead, maybe a little further than you.

When Hobie took you home, he told you to tell your parents that the two of you went to the creek for bible study. You’ve never lied to your parents before. You weren’t sure you could do it. You wrung your hands against the gas tank of his motorcycle, the cold air whipping at your face as you flew down the streets. The streetlights were coming on, you had to be home soon. Hobie got you there in record time. Of course, breaking a few traffic laws along the way but he got you there.

You hopped off his bike, readjusting yourself and ensuring that you looked just the same as you did before you left. Hobie offered you back your rosary which you had almost forgotten completely and when you reached out for it, he grabbed your hand. “I don’ wanna wait ‘til next Sunday to see ya, luv. When do y’think we’ll have anotha bible study?”

You looked back at the front door to your house to find a shadow walking through the living room towards the front door. You took your rosary and retracted your hand quickly. “Tuesday after I get off of work. Now go, before they try to invite you inside.”

“I might’ jus’ stay then.”

You hit him on the shoulder and he laughed softly, eyeing the door cracking open over your shoulder. “I’ll see ya Tuesday, then. Keep yaself busy while ‘m gone.” He teased before ripping away on his motorcycle, leaving you flustered and overly aware of the two polaroid pictures pressed against your breast.

“Did he not want to come inside? I made dinner.” Your mother called from the front door. You looked back at her and shook your head. “No, Mama, he has to get somewhere.” You made your way inside. You kept your head low. You set your rosary down on the coffee table and removed your shoes beside the door, replacing them with house slippers.

Your father was already in the dining room eating and as you passed him, he stopped you with a question. “Where were you at?”

Your heart raced and your mouth dried up. You grabbed at your dress then fiddled with a braid from your hair. “With Hobie at the old playground. He finally opened up to listening to the word so I thought it might be good to do bible study together.” You glanced up to look at him, your eyes pleading for approval. You’ve never lied to them before and they had no reason to believe you were lying now.

“How often will you be doing bible studies?” Your mother asked. Your father continued eating, neither of them suspected a thing. You almost felt powerful, being able to keep this one thing to yourself. You knew something they didn't and it felt like a sort of control you were never before allowed in your life. You didn’t even feel guilty about it.

“Every Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday.” It came out of you so easily. You stopped trembling and fiddling with yourself and went to go make yourself a plate.

That was the beginning of it, the beginning of everything. The lying, meeting with Hobie, exploring the pleasures of the body with him in the secret of his hotel room. You became someone new behind that door, every moment of it captured by his camera and printed out on his bed for you to later keep. He made you cum in ways you never knew was possible and you learned slowly how to make him cum too.

“Jus’ like– fuck, dove….ngh~ shit.” You sat between his legs with your lips wrapped around the head of his cock, suckling and kissing. You haven’t gone any further than that for the past 2 minutes, too intimidated by his monstrous size to take any more of him into your mouth. “Jus’ a lil’ more tongue,” He hissed when you followed his command, your tongue timidly flicking from the underside of his tip to the end of his slit. You were a natural at this.

He had you bobbing your head soon enough, his hand on the back of your head to guide your motions. "Open tha’ mouth of ya’s a lil’ more, luv.” You opened your mouth a little further and kept your teeth back like he told you to. You hummed softly and it sent Hobie into a spiral.

You had him moaning, a hand pushing your head up and down on his fat cock, that pretty, little mouth of yours only able to go a little under half way before you began to gag. He grabbed his camera. "Look a' me, pretty girl." Your wet gaze flickered up at him, teary and gorgeous, drool dribbling down the rest of his cock. And when he came, he came, he pulled out from your mouth, jerking off over your face with your tongue hanging out of your mouth while he groaned your name and cursed you for being so pretty.

He came on your face, across your cheek, one of your eyes closed so it didn't get in, some landing on your tongue. He took a picture of that as well, letting the picture print out before grabbing your chin and slapping his cock against your cheek. "You're such a good, fuckin' girl."

Your heart always fluttered when he praised you, each meeting only solidifying what was always there, hiding beneath your love for God which was really only a redirection of your love for him. Did he notice the way you looked at him like he was Christ on Earth, the way you looked at him like he was all you ever wanted in your life. He couldn't be oblivious to the way you worshiped him, like he was your very own messiah.

He's shown you more in a few weeks than God has ever shown you in your entire life. He's shown you pleasures you never before thought existed, done things to you you never wanted anyone else to do. Yet, the two of you still have never had sex in the traditional sense. You've been close, let him rub his cock against your bare clit until you both came, but he never pushed into you, never broke your hymen as you were told happens when you have sex for the first time.

It made you feel better. Made you feel like if this all hit the fan, at least you'd have some semblance of your dignity still left with you, you wouldn't be completely ruined by him. As much as you loved Hobie, you did not trust him entirely to stay, did not trust him not to break your heart.

But you had to ask. Why didn't he want to? He never showed any interest at all to slide himself inside you and claim you as his. Did he truly mean to leave soon? Was it a kindness he was attempting to offer you?"

"Why don't you want to have sex with me… real sex, I mean?" You asked in something of a whisper as you lay in his bed naked, wrapped up in his sheets while he stood in his bathroom to wet a rag to clean you up. He had jerked himself over you and came on your chest because he liked your tits more than you could ever imagine and needed to see his cum on them. He had snapped a picture of it, of course, let you keep it. You’d take it home and store it in a shoebox tucked away in your closet, waiting until your parents were surely asleep before you took it out and chose one to touch yourself to.

Hobie never answered you, just shook his head and murmured something under your breath. “I's almost time for you to go home, isn’ i’? Le’s get’cha cleaned up, doll.” He left you to all your wild conclusions. He was going to leave soon, you figured. He was just trying to preserve something for you, let you have this one thing he hasn’t selfishly taken from you. At least now, clumsy touching down your body when you get married wouldn't be enough to impress you, not when you've felt the skillful hands of Hobie all over your body.

The ride back home was silent. There was a sudden distance between the two of you. Hobie had bought you your very own helmet after you voiced your own concerns about safety. Would he use this for another girl he meets once he leaves? The thought made your heart squeeze.

In front of your house, you hopped off of his bike and removed your helmet so he could strap it to the side of his motorcycle. Hobie could see the space you had placed between you two and attempted to backtrack to a time when you hadn’t become so upset with him.

“I’ll see ya Sunday… righ’, luv?” His voice was so beautiful, so gentle. Your heart soared and swooned for him. You looked him in the eyes and saw his lighthearted smile in them. It forced a smile onto your face. You bit your lips to hide it and twirled your finger around a braid as you nodded. “Fine.”

Hobie would have kissed you if you weren’t outside your parents house so he nodded softly, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he revved up his bike and drove away. You watched him go, letting him round the corner before you turned on your toes and made your way inside the house.

There was no greeting when you came in, no warm smell of cooking in the air. You frowned, not taking the time to remove your shoes as you walked further into the house. “Mama, Daddy? You in here?” You turned the corner into the dining room and found your father sitting at the table with your mother standing behind him and a familiar shoebox sitting in the middle of the table.

Your heart dropped. It sank so low that it boiled in your stomach acid, so low that you thought you might throw it up. You mouth ran dry with fear. "Mama?…Daddy?"

"Get over here." Your father always had a rather authoritarian voice but you had never heard him so angry, so demanding. You lowered your head in shame and slowly, cautiously, made your way to the table, tears already dappling your cheeks. "Sit down." And you sat, your head still hanging low, your tears now falling onto the table and soaking into the tablecloth.

Your father grabbed the box, opened the lid, and dumped all the pictures onto the table. Your lips wrapped around Hobie's cock, his face clearly between your legs, cum on your chest, his long, slender fingers stuffing your cunt, and so much more. All of them incriminating you. Your mother turned her head away, unable to bear the idea of her sweet, innocent daughter participating in such acts.

Your father stood, his hands on the table, his imposing figure looming over you as you trembled beneath him. “Look at me.” His voice was low but dangerous. This was not a time to disobey him. You raised your head slowly, your bottom lip quivering with terror. His gaze was hard and unforgiving. This was not something you just brush off and forgive. How brutal it must be to figure out your daughter is nothing but a whore who’s been lying to you this entire time.

“Is that you in these photos?”

You sniffled, suddenly finding it hard to breathe. You hesitated, unsure of what to say.

“Don’t you even think of lying to me, girl. Is this you?”

You could do nothing except nod and in an instant, he brought his hand across your cheek and struck you. You cupped your aching cheek and sobbed, choking out apologies and begging for forgiveness in near incoherent babbles.

Your father paced the length of the dining room while your mother hurriedly picked up the photos and put them back into the box. She was the one who stumbled upon the photos after looking through your closest for a pair of shoes you had borrowed from her. She had cried as she brought the photos to your father who immediately became enraged. She mourned her young, innocent daughter who would have done no wrong before Hobie came back, her daughter who had fallen so far from grace.

“Honey, you can tell us if he forced you to do any of this.” Your mother so desperately wished you would place all the blame on Hobie, that you’d tell them he had tricked you into performing such acts so that you could still be pure, could still be blameless. No one had to know that way.

How could you do such a thing? You were an adult, you could make your own decisions about these things and you made it. You chose to do everything that happened between you and Hobie. You were just as at fault as he was. But you’d never throw him under the bus

“No, no Hobie didn’t force me to do anything. I made the choice myself.”

“You whore!” Your father barked at you. If your cheek wasn’t already swelling, he would have slapped you again. He paced again a little, running his hands down his face as he always did when he was stressed. Then he turned back to you. “Did you have intercourse?”

You shook your head. “No, we didn’t do…that,” you managed to say between hiccups. You used the backs of your hands to wipe your tears from your cheeks. “Nothing like that.”

“Good, you’re not completely ruined then.” There was something soul-crushing about hearing ones father tell them that they were ruined all because someone made them feel good. But sex ruined people here, you forgot. How absurd the idea seemed now. You didn't feel any less than you did before. In fact, you never felt better about yourself.

“You will not be seeing Hobart again. No talking, no looking, no breathing in his direction. I want zero interaction with him.”

“You can’t do that! I’m an adult!” You stood up from your seat and your father raised his hand to you again, ready to strike you back down. The threat made you sit back down, your lips sealing. Your father smacked his hand on the table in front of you. “You live in my house, you will abide by my rules. You’re acting like an insolent child. You have no idea what you’re doing. You will no longer interact with Hobart, you will no longer be doing anything that is non-essential. You will work, then come home, go to church, then come home. You will do this while your mother and I look for a suitor to take your hand because we cannot trust you to choose someone on your own.”

Shaking your head, you let out a tear-filled yet firm, “No.”

“No?”

“NO!” You refused. You couldn’t imagine a world where you weren’t with Hobie, didn’t belong to him in every way, shape, and form. You’d rather become a nun before you married anyone who wasn’t him. Even if he didn’t feel the same. Maybe he’d leave again, maybe he’d put you in his rearview and find someone else but you’d always have a piece of him in your soul, you’d look at all your favorite things and find him there.

Your father fumed. You’ve never refused him before. It was the devil inside you, he concluded. You have been possessed by a demon because his daughter would never act in such a way. He took you by the bicep and began to drag you through the house and up the stairs to your room.

Your mother said nothing to discourage him, did nothing to stop him. Never before had you ever felt more betrayed. The one person in the world meant to protect you and she simply stood by and watched him brutalize you. His grip would later leave a giant hand-shaped bruise on your arm and your cheek would remain swollen into the next morning.

He tossed you into your room and stood in the doorway with his imposing figure standing above you. “Until you give me my daughter back, you harlot, you will remain in here. Tomorrow, you’re going to burn those pictures in the backyard.” He began to leave before turning back to look at you one last time, “Pray for forgiveness and God will lead you back to Him.”

He left you crying on the ground in your bedroom with the peeling wallpaper and your open closet. You curled up into a ball on the carpeted floor and sobbed to yourself. All you wanted was for Hobie to wrap his arms around you and tell you everything would be okay.

You remained awake late into the night, lying in your small, twin size mattress you’ve had since childhood, Your hands stroked your cheeks where Hobie had held your face and kissed you. It’s always the kisses that really get you, the kisses that stay with you. They feel the most intimate of all the actions performed on you, the way he takes you gently and asks with just his tongue for you to trust him and you do every single time. His kisses felt like love, though you knew better than to label it as such.

You’re half asleep, tracing your lips with your fingertips with dried tears streaking your swollen cheeks when you hear a tap against your window. You thought nothing of it until it happened again, and again, and again. It was very obviously a bird of something tapping its beak against your window but when you turned in your bed, you found that there was no bird, just the moonlight.

Then you saw a pebble fly up and hit your window and knew that the disturbance was not by accident. You tossed your duvet from your body and slid out of bed to go check it out. At the wet end of your house, the familiar figure of Hobie standing beneath your window with a handful of gravel he had picked up from the front of your house. That coy smile of his as he reached into his pile and tossed another pebble at your window before mouthing, “Open up.”

You sighed with utter relief that he was hear. You moved frantically to unlock the window before sliding it open and sticking your head out. “What are you doing here? My father will kill you!” You asked but all you wanted was for him to be here with you with his hands all over you. You wanted him in your bed with you, whispering promises that he’d never leave you again, that everything was okay, that he was just as in love with you as you were with him and that the two of you would run away together.

“I decided I ain’ wanna wait ‘till Sunday t’ see ya again… and my mum cursed me to hell for ‘what I did to ya’.” Hobie shrugged. He dropped all the gravel in his hands and wiped the dust off on his pants. “Can I come up? I’ll jus’ climb the gutter.”

You looked back and listened for a moment. Upon hearing one of your father’s monstrous snores, you looked back to your lover and nodded. “Just be quiet, my parents are sleeping.”

“As a spider, luv, as a spider.”

You watched Hobie carefully climb his way up the side of your house by the gutter. You were surprised by his strength. He was a rather lanky and slender guy but he had a surprising amount of muscle. He was up to your window in no time. You stepped back to give him the space to get inside. He held your window frame and came in feet first before sliding the rest of his body inside.

Your room looked just the same as it did when the two of you were young, the same floral wallpaper, the same pretty white vanity against the wall on the other side of your room across from your bed, covered in makeup and decorations like bows and pearls. Your stuffed animals were now on a shelf rather than on your bed. Your duvet was still the same too, pink and white with roses. It was all so pretty, so delicate, so chaste.

You were in your pajamas, in a pretty, little nightgown that became see-through under the moonlight. He could see the slopes of your body, the dips and curves, the little bows on the sides of your panties. If only he had come under better circumstances.

You rushed him the moment his feet met the floor, tackling him with your arms wrapped around his slender neck. You sobbed into his neck, babbling on and on about what had happened. Hobie stroked the length of your back and whispered in your ear soft words of assurance.

“You can’t be here, Hobes.” You suddenly retracted from him. Your father was a deep sleeper, but if your mother woke up at any point, your father would follow soon after with his shotgun.

Hobie bent down to begin to unlace his boots, implying that he intended to stay for a while. “I jus’ wan’ed to come see ya, baby. Tha’s all. I needed t’make sure you were okay.” He pulled off his boots and put them to the side, still so tall that you only reached his chest.

It was only then that Hobie saw the swell of your cheek and was quick to come to caress it. He could feel the welt of a handprint against your once unmarked skin. His eyes, once so nonchalant and lighthearted, darkend with worry, with anger. “Did he do this to ya?” He touched the welt so tenderly and even then you flinched away from him, nodding.

Hobie began to make his way towards your bedroom door, determined to get revenge. Who could ever look at a face like yours and think to hurt you? How dare your own father be the one to hurt you? You had to stand between him and the door to stop him, every word of “stop” falling upon deaf ears, blinded by rage.

“Please, Hobes.” You placed your hand upon his chest and pushed back on him softly. “Don’t make things worse. Just hold me…please. That’s all I need right now.”

You went back to your bed and laid down with enough space for Hobie to join you. Obviously he came to lay down with you. If this was what you needed then he’d be her for you in any way he could. He fit a bit awkwardly, his feet hanging off of the end of your bed in a rather comical way. You laid facing each other, tucked in close together. Hobie radiated warmth and made your duvet completely obsolete. You curled in as close as possible.

Hobie caressed your face tenderly, stared at the beauty of your features even with your eyes cried red and raw, your swollen cheeks, and the tears streaming down your face. How was he supposed to break this recent news to you? It would break you, he knew it would, but he had no time to put it lightly. Time was running out fast. Come morning, the two of you would have one less day together.

"I'm leavin' soon." With those three words, all your fears were confirmed. Your one and only support system was leaving you, your only semblance of relief from this choking world was going to let it suffocate you. You stared at him, your eyes glossing over. "I thought you said–"

"I know wha' I said. I know. 'm sorry." He watched the way tears rolled down your cheeks. His thumbs stroked away the tears that formed before they could fall but you needed to cry, you needed to. If you didn’t cry, what else was there to do? "'M sorry I lied but I need t' leave. My mum doesn’ wan’ me here no more. I gotta leave ya here, dove. ‘M tryna show kindness, not to fuck up ya life even more."

Kindness? Kindness? This was not kindness. This was cruelty. His solution was to just run? To abandon you? Did you truly mean so little to him that he could just up and leave you again. What were you supposed to do without him? How long did you have left with him.

"When?"

"After Mass on Sunday." Just 3 days. Too soon, far too soon, not enough time to make things right. “Is that what you came here to tell me?” Hobie’s eyes softened with guilt and for the first time, he shifted his gaze away from yours. “I couldn’ go wit’cha thinkin’ I just abandoned ya.”

But that was exactly what he was doing. He was abandoning you. Just like all those years ago. How many more years would it be until he came back? Would you still be in love with him by then, suppressed behind many years of absence? Would you forgive him for leaving or would the resentment stay for the rest of your life? You resented him, his ability to leave when things got rough, his ability to ruin your life then run away when the consequences finally caught up with you.

No need for him to be gone now. You needed him out of your house or you might scream at him, scream your lungs out until your heart was on the floor and your tears drowned your words. Scream until you tore your vocal cords, coughed up blood, coughed up rose petals.

"Get out." Your expression hardened. "Get out of my room, get out of my house, get out of my life. If you're going to leave then stay out. I don't need you coming back in 5 years to just ruin my life again." You got up and marched over to the window where he left his boots. You picked them up and threw them at him. "Leave and stay away. Never come back, Hobie. Never. If you really want to be kind, you'd let me live my life."

Hobie barely managed to get his shoes on before you were pulling him out of your bed and shoving him towards your window.

"Y/n–"

"Get out!" It's the loudest your voice has gotten so far. He's never seen you so angry. He really fucked up, really fucked you up, fucked up your life. It's best if he just left, left this town, left you alone entirely. So he said nothing more and climbed out of the window, sliding down the gutter.

There was nothing left to say.

Your parents made you burn the photos the next day before locking you back in your room for the next 2 days. They only let you out to eat and use the restroom. You weren't allowed any other privileges, not for the damned daughter. They left you with your rosary and your bible, made to only read scripture and pray the evil out of your body and for forgiveness from the Lord.

The only time you were allowed out of your room, out of the house, was on Sunday for morning mass. You were relieved to just be able to get out and get some fresh air. You took a well-deserved shower, your skin pale and your lips were dry, you trembled under the hot shower water as it poured down your body, praying.

You fasted every Sunday morning, breakfast skipped for the meal to be made after. You and your family woke up and immediately went to church at 7 in the morning and all you thought about was if Hobie has already left or if he was truly waiting until after mass to go.

You found out when you got there. Hobie and his mother were sitting on the far opposite end of the church from where you and your family usually sit. You caught his gaze for a moment and broke it as fast as you had gained it when your father grabbed your wrist and dragged you away towards your usual pew. He was still here, maybe waiting to say goodbye, a luxury he would not be afforded.

Mass went on as usual, with your sweaty parish and his long sermons. An hour in, you asked your mother if you could use the restroom and you were told to make it quick. A small luxury given to you as you stood, adjusted you dress, and made your way to the back of the church towards the old bathrooms in desperate need for renovation.

You passed the confessional cabinet along the way, to and from the restroom. On your way back, you heard the smallest bit of a whisper. “Doll.” It came from one side of the cabinet, the unmistakable accented voice of Hobie coaxing you over. You stood before the booth, debating over whether you should just leave him there or play his stupid little game one last time.

He was leaving today, what more harm can he do to you?

You opened the other door and took a step inside. Never before have you been in the confessional booth. You figured that your parents would eventually make you confess your sins to the Father at some point and you’d fall in with one of the many sinners in town.

You sat on the bench, looking at Hobie’s obscured face through the carved out design in the mahogany wood of the cabinet. “What do you want, Hobie?” Your voice was cold and uncaring but belied that all you wanted to do was find his tongue with yours and let him take you right here. All or nothing, ‘take the last bit of me before you go’.

“I jus’ wan’ed to talk, dove.” Hobie rubbed his hands together nervously. It’s been so long since he’s been nervous but if anyone deserved such an emotion, it would be you. The two of you had left things off horribly and he couldn’t bear to leave without leaving things off on a better note. “I though’ maybe–” he began to chuckle, “maybe we i’ would be easier to confess wha’s on our min’s in here.

“I know ya have no reason to wanna talk t’me, but jus’... I know you have a lot on ya mind and I wan'ed to give ya the chance to say i'"

You were silent for a long moment before Hobie spoke again.

"Confess ya sins and I'll hold them wit' me foreva."

Something about those words made your throat constrict and your heart squeeze. You could get it all out right now and if it didn't change his mind about leaving, at least you would have held nothing from him. You would have placed your heart on your sleeve and showed him all your vulnerabilities. The sin would be his.

You rested your head against the cut out the two of you were talking to. "Sin? My sin, Hobie, is that you had me in ways I thought only my husband would. My sin was that I thought I meant something to you." Your voice trembled with the tears that began to swell in your eyes and roll like rivers down your cheeks, breaking off and spilling into smaller streams. "My sin was that I was stupid enough to think you wouldn't leave again. My sin was that I fell in love with you and you will never love me the same way."

You placed your hand against the cutout wall and stationed your lips close. "My sin is that I want to run away with you, leave this life and follow you wherever you go. I want you to take me, make me yours, right here, right now. That's my sin, Hobie. You ruined me."

The silence was so loud, filled with the parishes voice describing the sanctity of marriage and how nowadays, the youngins just have sex all over the place without knowing that importance of marriage first.

The cabinet creaked softly as Hobie got up from the bench inside. He pushed open the door, stepped out, and opened the door to your side. He took you up, pulling the door closed behind him, and pulled you in. You didn't look at him, refused to, lip trembling.

"I ruined ya now, did I?" Hobie grasped your chin and forced you to look at him. He was glad to see the swelling of your cheek had gone down. He should have killed your father over hitting you. He would have if you hadn't stopped him. The things he would do for you. "Righ' here and righ' now? I could do tha'"

Hobie had you against the wall in no time, your hands grasping at each other while his teeth bit and licked at your neck in sloppy kisses against your throat. You tilted your head back to allow him more space, your arms wrapping around his neck to pull him closer and hold his body to yours. You missed his touch, the way he smelled, the way his hands grasped at your body, your breasts, your waist, caressing every curve of your body down to your hips. His rough and calloused as he pulled your dress up to pool under your tits, leaving your white, lace panties and thigh-high socks exposed. They were cheeky and childish but Hobie found it cute.

Hobie’s lips found yours and you opened on command for him. He’s got you trained good, his sweet, little flower. You still moaned every time he stroked his tongue against yours, still shivered when his thumbs stroked your cheeks. Heat pooled between your legs, slick wetness coating your lips and soaking your lacy, little panties. Would kissing him always feel like this? Like your heart was exploding in your chest, like you might just cum right here.

He shoved his hand into your panties and dipped his fingers between your swollen, soaked lips. He's barely done anything beyond kiss you and you're already dripping, your body leaning into his. Your body rolled when he found your clit, teasing it with the pads of his fingers in gentle circular motions.

You moan softly against his full lips. His tongue piercing brushes against your tongue before forcing yours down and latching his lips to yours.

"You don' wanna be caught, do ya, doll? You wan’ someone t’come and catch me ruining you, spoiling you?" His words are disgusting, filthy, and such a big turn on. You shivered at his words, with every stroke against your clit, at the way he chuckled at your cuteness.

He continued to play with you, trying to get you wet enough so this all would hurt less. Hobie reveled in your pretty, muffled noises, coaxing more from you by the second. He wished he could take his time with this, go nice and slow while he spoils you, but someone would suspect something and put two and two together if you take too long.

Hobie pulled his fingers from your panties and you whimpered softly, watching him kitten-lick your juices from his digit with teh softest moan.

He leaned in and suckled on your bottom lip softly, whispering into you, “jus’ saty quiet f’me, luv. Can ya do tha’?” You nodded frantically, so hard you made yourself dizzy. His fingers began to pull at his belt, undoing the buckle. He took his time pulling himself out of his restraints and when he popped out, his fat cock slapping against your bare stomach, you gasped. He was just so big, smearing pre-cum against your naval, marking where his cock would rest if he pushed himself all the way into your tiny pussy.

He’d take you right here, deflower you in this sacred place of worship and they’d never know. He’d have your legs quivering, your eyes rolling back, seeing white, and you’d never make a peep because he asked it of you. No one would know that he defiled your sacred body, made it his.

As much as Hobie affected you, you affected him. He was so hard at the mere thought of fucking you that it hurted. Pre-cum beaded at his tip before dripping down his slit. He pumped himself in his hand, thumbing at his head while he kissed you. “Tha’s righ’, keep quiet or we’ll be in trouble, luv.”

Hobie dipped down and grasped the backs of your thighs to lift you up and make you wrap your legs around his slender waist. Your clothed core pressed against the length of his cock and you ground your hips down to get some friction against your aching cunt.

Hobie pulled your panties to the side, let you take what you needed as you humped him. He sat down on the bench, let you straddle his hips, dragging your soaked cunt along the girth of his cock. Every time his thick head caught on your clit you'd shudder yet keep your lips sealed like a good girl. No one would know what was going on if only you kept your lips tight.

Hobie let you take control of yourself, your pleasure, in a place where you've never before had control over anything. He watched you almost lovingly, leaning back with his hands on your hips, trying your best to prepare yourself for a moment you've been waiting for your entire life.

"I need you to do it for me." You whispered timidly, looking at him with those big eyes of yours. "I'm scared." It felt stupid to admit. Something you wanted so badly, something you practically pleaded for, now felt like the most terrifying thing in the world.

Hobie kissed the edges of your mouth. "'ve got'cha. Don't be afraid. We'll go slow." His voice gave you all the assurance you needed as you nodded and closed your eyes, placing yourself entirely in his hands.

Hobie positioned himself against the tight, wet hole of your entrance. The only time you've been stretched out was with his fingers and even then, you had been tight due to anxiety. His fingers didn't even compare.

He took your hips in his hold and brought you down slowly, the head of his cock splitting you apart and a nerve-wracking pace. A sharp pain took you and you cried softly, your fingers digging into Hobie's shoulders as he attempted to get you to calm down. He didn't go any further, just the tip, that was the hardest part. "Jus' breath, luv. You got i'."

You took in a shaky breath, slowly pushing your hips down to take him inch by inch. He stretched you in a way that his fingers failed to prepare you for, intruded in your body in a way that was so intimate that you thought you might cry but maybe that was the stinging pain of him making space for himself inside your body.

He seemed to go on forever but the moment you reached the hilt, you paused, sitting in his lap, rocking your hips gently in an attempt to adjust to his size. You whimpered with each moment, burying your face in the crook of his neck, taking in his scent that makes you deliriously high. “Hobie, I can’t.” You murmured, shaking your head. “I can’t, it hurts.”

“Yes ya can, luv. I got’chu. It’ll feel good in a moment.” Hobie kept your hips rocking back and forth and whispered into the side of your neck. His fingers slipped beneath the band of your underwear, his long, rough fingers grabbing at your flesh.

With time, your face against his throat, eyes closed, you began to relax. Your once tight muscles loosened slowly and what was once pain shifted into gentle pleasure. Your lips sought out his and you kissed him gently, moaning against his tongue while the ball of his piercing pressed against the soft muscle of your tongue.

Hobie prompted you to rise and slowly, you did, every vein dragging against your silken walls. You rose until just his tip remained inside you before falling back down upon his cock. He was so big, so thigh, touching places inside you you never knew even existed. His cock dragged against a soft spot inside you and immediately, your thighs began to tremble uncontrollably. Your body rolled with the familiar jolts of an orgasm overtaking your body. You fell away from the kiss, slapping your hand over your mouth as you arched your back and let out a soft cry.

There was a wet sound, a small squirt of something clear coming from between your legs and wetting Hobie’s pants and abdomen. You hadn’t even noticed it until the waves of your climax washed over you and he had barely thrusted into you once. You looked at him, smiling something evil at you. “I ain’ know you was a squirter, doll.”

“I’m sorry, I– I have no idea what that was.”

“Don’ apologize. ‘M just wonderin’ if I can make ya do i’ again.” Hobie hadn’t expected you to cum so fast, much less to squirt all from one thrust. Your pussy gushed with your cum, slicking him up and making the whole debacle a whole lot easier. He rubbed circles on your still trembling thighs until they stopped shaking with the aftermath of your orgasm before he took hold of your hips again and began guiding you movements up and down his length.

You felt like absolute Heaven around him, all wet and silky, tight yet not too tight. He made you ride him nice and slow, sliding his hands up and down the length of your gorgeous, shivering body and whispering quiet praises to you while mass seemed to become all the louder. Songs of worship were being sang and Hobie couldn’t help but to find a steady beat with them.

You had never felt so high before, like you were ascending to whole nothing plane of existence, like you were touching Heaven itself before you were cast down to Hell. The choir sang and you sang Hobie’s name with them, your thighs burning with strenuous use but you didn’t care. You didn’t care that you had solidified your place in Hell, that your parents were altogether ready to disown you, that your rosary sat discarded on the floor of the confession booth. You just cared that Hobie’s cock was bullying its way inside you, that you felt good about yourself for the first time in so, so long. He made you feel so good.

“I love you.” You said to him, fucked out and in a daze, bouncing on his dick and hungry for a second orgasm sitting pretty on the horizon. “I love you more than God, more than anything.” You feel like you can't think straight. You can't even formulate cohesive thoughts for Christ's sake beyond your adoration for him. It was like he was knocking something loose in your brain ramming into you. “I love you, I love you, IloveyouIlove you.”

“I love ya too, luv. Fuck- God, I only came back to this– shit, keep goin’, doll…only came back f’you.” Hobie’s head fell back against the back of the booth and his eyes rolled back in his head. “God, ya feel s’good, s’good. Don’ stop.” Like you ever wanted to. It was like you were both losing hold of yourselves, growing increasingly louder, but the music did a wonderful job at covering it up.

He slides his hand over your mouth as you cry out. "What would your parents think if they saw you like this, getting soiled like this. You think they would notice if I came in your pussy and let it run down your thighs during service."

You whimper a muffled moan against his hand. You don't even care that he's telling you that he's gonna cum inside you. You were too focused on your orgasm approaching like a freight train. It was hot and steamy in this tiny compartment. Your hot breath quickly fills the room that quickly turned into a stuffy sauna as you two sweat.

Hobie could feel his coming too, the quickest he'd ever had cum since his first time. He lets his fingers dip into your mouth and press on your hot tongue. You instinctively begin sucking and Hobie praises you by calling you a "good girl. Always a good girl".

Your orgasm came without warning. It took hold of your like a possession, your muscles tightening with the weight of it. Your hand reached between your legs and eagerly stroked your clit and before you knew it, you were squirting again, just for him. Your pussy pulsated, your eyes rolled, your body relaxed and rolled against his, coaxing his orgasm out of him.

Hobie quickly slipped out of you before you could take his cock into you again. He wrapped a large, wet hand around his cock and stroked himself hard and fast against your wet abdomen. It didn’t take long for him to cum, coating your stomach in thick ribbons of it while he let out deep, panting huffs against your shoulder.

“You think they noticed we’ve been gone?”

“Definitely.”

Mass went on as usual when the two of you finally returned to your seats but you could both tell that your parents had caught on a long time ago and there was no way some kind of reprimanding wasn’t underway.

That night, you left home. Your father had struck you again and told you that you had two options, enter a convert and become a nun or leave the house because he “would not stand for this debauchery”.

You chose to leave.

You called Hobie on the house phone just before he left his hotel and asked him to come pick you up. By the time he got there, you were sitting on the curb with two bags and in tears. He got off of his bike, grabbed your bags for you, and offered out a hand for you to take. “You ready?”

You looked up at him, wiped the tears from your cheeks with the backs of your hands, and slipped your hand into his so he could help you up

”As ever.”

taglist: @eldrichhorrornyaa , @coffeeandtealol , @ravieaesthetic , @th3h0nkz , @qxiva , @m00nc4kes , @angel-of-the-eon

#across the spiderverse #spiderman atsv #atsv #hobie brown #spiderman #spider punk #hobie brown fic #hobie brown smut #hobie brown x reader #hobie smut #hobie brown x black!reader #hobie brown x religious!reader #confessions!reader #confessions!hobie

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vhstown · 6 months

Text

ain't no love; pt. 2

"ain't no love in the heart of town"

— miles g morales x gn!reader series

SUMMARY: Miles Morales is just a kid without a father; the Prowler is just a "rotten" vigilante. Both of them start coming into your life — one in the middle of the semester, and the other by total accident.

SERIES MASTERLIST 📼 ← PART 1 / PART 2 / PART 3 →

chapter summary: [MILES POV] Miles thinks there's something sinister going on at Visions. But first, he has to ask you out — to a job fair.

content/warnings: mentions of food/hunger, implied kidnapping, use of drugs (not by miles or reader) and there are some word meanings at the end!

word count: 4.7k

a/n: never thought id make it this far. 2/4 yo! thank you @qiupachups for proofreading 🙏 my g fr

“Take your headphones out.”

“~Ain’t no love… in the hear–”

Miles slipped his earbud out before putting his hand into his pocket again; it’d go back in once he left the counsellor’s office anyhow. First, he had to deal with the woman in front of him — Ms. Weber, the woman he’d been avoiding all week.

“Why didn’t you come to see me yesterday?” The woman peered at him through her red-framed glasses. Her disapproving gaze was one Miles was yet to get used to.

“Had to uh, see a teacher.” Her gaze became more disbelieving than disapproving. It was true, though, his calc teacher wasn’t the only faculty member he seemed to be annoying today.

“Right, and they didn’t tell you to take out your headphones?” The woman leaned over on her desk much like Mr. Wellston had, except it actually had the intended effect, like he was talking to his mother; Miles fumbled a bit with the earbud in his pocket. “We need to discuss your extracurriculars.”

“Do I need extracurriculars? I mean, I kinda already got some.”

“Such as?”

“An extra calc class. And Spanish catch-up. And English—”

“Something that isn’t to do with your academics, Miles — hence extra-curricular. College applications are right around the corner.”

“I’m doin’ fine right now,” he shrugged. Weber didn’t look very impressed.

“If you wanna go out of state, "fine" isn’t enough. You’re not the only kid applying.”

“Not like I said that.” He leaned back, making his chair creak loudly.

Talking to Ms. Weber felt like a chore. Sure, she had his best interest at heart, but she’d never know the half of it. His cooperativeness was running thin as the ache in his muscles worsened — if only Aaron didn’t make him get so serious all of a sudden. Miles couldn't listen to everyone, he guessed.

The woman leaned forward, tilting her head, maybe for emphasis. “You can’t have your cake and eat it too, Miles.”

Leaning back wasn’t helping with the soreness, or Ms. Weber. “Not if there was no cake to begin with.”

She let out a breath, a more civil version of the loud sigh building up in Miles’ lungs. “How about this? You try your hand at some volunteering.”

“Volunteering?” He was already sure that he wouldn’t bother. He did plenty volunteering already — if illegal vigilantism counted.

“There’s a careers fair for freshmen soon. It’d look good on your application if you helped to organise.”

“Aren’t teachers supposed to do that?”

“I’m right in front of you.” Her tone was drier than his.

“You’re just a counsellor though—” Miles’ lips pressed together, Ms. Weber’s eyes narrowing at him. He didn’t want the same fate that guy had calling his mom “just a nurse”, but it came out before he could stop himself.

“The week after winter break,” she continued. Being a counsellor was less stressful than a nurse, it seemed.

Winter break was after this week — that was when he’d finally stop training for a little while. The week after was the job fair, and…

“So it’s just me that’s doin’ it?”

The counsellor contemplated for a moment, her own lips pursing. “You could ask someone to do it with you. One of your friends, maybe.”

Like he had one of those.

“Huh? What’d you say? Someone’s waiting? You got friends?”

“Miles, c’mon.”

Maybe he did.

“Yeah, fine — I’ll do it,” he muttered. Weber’s expression relaxed, as much as it could with that gruff air still about her.

“Okay, good. Just bring your friend here after school.” Miles simply nodded — now with another thing to think about. “You can go back to lunch.”

He got out of the chair, his hand already on the door handle before Weber spoke again.

“Well done on coming in, by the way.” Miles turned back for a moment, mumbling something like a thanks. He tried not to feel weird about the odd sincerity of her words as he walked through the hallways.

“~Ain’t no love, and in the heart of the city…”

Miles had a lot to think about in general, but only about 20 minutes to think about what he was going to say to you. He also thought about what he was going to eat later — maybe his mom made something. He hoped his uncle didn’t finish the stew. At least his stomach didn’t grumble… Miles tried not to smile, even if nobody was watching.

Though he wanted to talk to you outside of class, he never really had any excuse. The only reason he’d talked to you at all was because that Rafa asshole decided bothering Mrs. Hernandéz wasn’t enough. Miles wasn’t stupid, but Rafael had drawn a massive red target on his own back. It was a miracle that you decided to say something, for Miles and Rafael.

A little height difference wouldn’t make his ankles any harder to break. He half-shook away the thought. No need to get expelled when he had to be here for long enough to confirm his suspicions.

“He went missing, and now he’s teaching calculus at Visions?”

“Yup.”

“That’s my high school.”

“…Jeff did us a service with these files, huh man?”

And so Miles had gone to Mr. Wellston’s classroom with you. It only left him with more questions.

Wellston almost seemed askance when you two walked in together — he didn’t even mention Miles’ earbud. The man was reluctant to let Miles take the extra class with you, for some reason, but Miles could play dumb when he needed to. Something about the whole arrangement was off to him — like it had set off a sixth sense Miles didn’t have.

Really and truly, you were just some kid from his class that happened to be caught up in all of this. If he had a reason, he’d tell you to not go to that stupid class in the first place. He was probably a better tutor anyway — Wellston didn’t seem like the teacher type anyway.

But he was just some kid from your class too — Miles Morales. Gonzalo Morales, though he doubted you knew, or cared. Probably the only person who knew his middle name was his mom; she was always talking about it, his name — to be proud. He had his mother’s last name for a reason, one he never knew about until Aaron told him: keeping him away from crime — his dad’s side. If only she knew what he was up to now.

If only his dad knew what he was up to now.

Miles Gonzalo Morales — whoever that was, was sweating a little at the moment. That was walking quickly, not because he had to figure out what to say in the next 10 seconds. Talking to you? No big deal. He’d done it before… once.

Miles had talked to you once. This past week, all he’d learnt about you was your first name and the fact that you sucked at using your calculator.

Hunched over a textbook with a crumpled up juice box in your hand, Miles spotted you sitting by yourself in the corner of the cafeteria. It’d be an easy conversation: he could bring up the textbook and talk to you alone. The pang of embarrassment that shot through him said otherwise. You looked like you did in Spanish, quiet, focused, a little stressed — like the sketch of you that was crumpled up in his blazer pocket. In the sketch, you were facing away. Right now, your eyes were on him. Mier— (Shi—)

“Can you move?” Miles hastily stepped away, realising he was blocking the line. He tried not to catch the girl’s annoyed stare, and the many others, holding back his grimace and heading for your table.

He sat opposite you; the seat was cold, and he wished he’d brought his jacket. What if it looked like he was shaking, or something? This was stupid. It wasn’t that cold. Just ask, dumbass.

“Hey uh, pana.” Your eyes were on his again, and he tried to smile. “You studyin’?”.

“Trying to.” Gaze trailing back to the textbook, you closed it with a sigh he could only imagine with his music playing in-between the cafeteria noise.

The cover read “AP CALCULUS BC: 1st Edition” — he knew there were at least ten revisions. Maybe you liked collecting old textbooks like he did old comics — that’d be stupid.

“Still don’t know how you got six.” He took out his earphone, before realising what you meant.

“Litres per hour,” he corrected, immediately feeling like punching himself for it. “Could explain it… if you want.” The cold plastic cafeteria bench dug into his palm as his grip on it tightened. Miles Morales — Brooklyn’s only vigilante, and now an AP Calc tutor

“Uh, sure.” You took out a pencil, which clattered far too loudly on the table. He watched you grit your teeth at the sound before giving him an expectant, somewhat unsure look. Miles took the pencil in his hand and started scribbling in the back page of the textbook, with you watching intently.

It was slightly warm, and wrote nicely — would probably draw nicely too. Not important. Just solve the damn thing.

“Why does this equal to the derivative, though?” you interrupted, pointing at the garble of letters and numbers. He had to hold back a sigh, like he wasn’t the one to offer you help. If there’s one thing he didn’t get from his mom, that was his patience — no wonder she was a nurse and he wasn’t a tutor.

“Cause if you take g of x as like, let’s say v or sumn’…” he murmured, brows knitting together as he scribbled out a couple more lines on the side. Rewriting the equation, he glanced at you occasionally, hoping you were getting it.

“Wait, wait, so…”

A flash of realisation came over your face before you abruptly took the pencil from his hand, making his jaw clench as your hand brushed his. You continued the line of working, explaining it to yourself while Miles gave quiet “yeah”s and nods.

“Then all of that should equal six.” The pencil dropped with a quiet thud, rolling onto the inside of the textbook. “Litres per hour,” you added quickly, giving him a meek smile.

“…Yeah. You got it.” Miles could only hold your gaze for a moment, until the eagerness in your eyes had dissipated, and the two of you were left staring at each other. The bend of his knees practically hooked around the seat as he reeled back, realising he’d been leaning over a little too close.

Miles cleared his throat, pushing the textbook back towards you. “You get it now?”

“Yeah.”

The corner of your mouth quirked up; maybe you were a little proud of yourself. All you needed was a little guidance — and he was able to make you understand. He smiled — mentally, of course. Miles Morales — best AP Calc tutor in Brookly—

“Did you need something?”

“Uh, yeah actually, uh…”

Uhhhhhh…

“Uh…?” you repeated.

Miles held his breath; maybe some survival instinct would force him to spit it out. How was he supposed to say this?

“You free? In a couple weeks?”

“…Huh?” Your eyes widened. The cafeteria seemed to go silent.

Definitely not like that.

“Uh, like, for a… volunteer thing,” he corrected, hastily. The way he grit his teeth made his voice sound funny. Nice going, Morales. “I’m doing it. Just thought I’d ask.”

“Oh, um…” Your eyes narrowed in thought, as Miles recovered from un-asking you out. “Maybe? What’s it for?”

“Some job fair — for freshmen.” Your expression turned uncertain. Miles bit the inside of his lip so hard he thought he might split it

“Um…” The way your eyes narrowed was making doubt pool in his stomach. “You know what? Yeah, sure.”

“Really?” Yes, you idiot. “I mean, uh cool.”

“Cool…”

The cleaners were starting to wipe away at the tables. No wonder it seemed so silent — most people had left. “So what do I have to do?” you

“You gotta go to the counsellor’s office after school. We’re gonna uh, help organise and stuff.” He swallowed dry. As much as he didn’t want to be the kid that was always in the counsellor’s office, it wasn’t like he could avoid it. You didn’t ever mention it, but it’s not like anyone did outright.

“Okay,” you nodded simply, letting out a sigh and throwing the ancient textbook into your bag. Miles stood up after you, flexing his sore, bench-marked hand.

“Are you sure you wanna go to that calc class?” you asked, making him look up.

It wasn’t like he had much of a choice — but you didn’t know that. “If you go to that fair.”

You smiled again, probably at the situation — maybe at him.

“Deal. See you Friday.” You waved, and Miles let out a sigh as you walked away.

Being a vigilante was way easier than talking to people.

“~When you were mine, oh I was feeling so good…”

The rest of the day dragged on with the soft kick of bass and the hum of a guitar in his ear. The only thing Miles could think about was the fact that he had to meet you after school. The fact that you said yes surprised him. You were classmates, acquaintances at most — maybe you could actually live up to the “pana” thing.

“~Cause your love lit up, the whole neighbourhood…”

“Miles — question eight?” Miles lifted his head from the desk, staring at the question sheet for a moment.

“Uh… forty two thousand,” he guessed, eyes narrowing at Ms. Calleros in a mix of doubt and hope.

“Forty two thousand what?”

“Six… Litres per hour.”

“Lit— Joules,” he stuttered out.

“…Yeah. You got it.”

Damn it.

RIIIIIIIIING! RIIIIIIIIIING! Miles was thinking about you too much, and thinking about AP Physics too little.

“Remember your homework due next week!” his teacher called out as everyone scrambled to pack up and leave.

Miles let himself sigh; it was one of many he wanted to let out today. He drew his hand away from the ear with his earbud in. At the same time, he locked eyes with his teacher. Mierda. (Shit.)

She gestured for him to come to her desk with a not-so entertained look on her face. Nothing new, he supposed.

“You know you can’t have your headphones in during class,” she started, glancing at his palm with the earbud in it.

It was faintly murmuring. Miles just awkwardly pressed the pause button.

“I know.”

“There seems to be a lot you know and don’t put into practice, Miles.” It was like every teacher was out to get him. Guess he wasn’t being as sneaky about the music as he thought.

“Sorry,” he offered, half-heartedly. Might as well get this over with.

“What were you listening to?” she asked, eyebrow lightly raised. “Apart from my lesson.”

“Uh… don’t know the name.”

“Are you sure? Because it’s been playing all class.” And since lunch — he hadn’t bothered to turn it off. He didn’t know it was that loud, though.

“I gotta to go to the counsellor’s office…” Miles said in a way that sounded more like a question. He pointed to the door like it would help.

“And I have to go to a meeting, but here I am.” She readjusted her glasses, looking at him curiously — maybe more knowingly.

“Is something wrong? You’ve been pretty quiet today.”

“Nah. Just tired today,” he shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets. There was an unconvincing beat of silence, before she unfolded her arms.

“…Well, I hope you feel more energetic soon.” Miles just nodded, making his way to the door.

Gracias a Dios… (Thank God.) She was leaving him alone.

“Oh, and good job on the quiz — one of the highest in this class.” Miles bit back the fleeting warmth in his cheeks, digging his hands further into his pockets.

“Thanks.”

Sometimes it was hard to remember that he wasn’t the Prowler all the time. Right know, he was just a kid: a kid who listened to his uncle’s favourite tracks and lived in a box with his mom in the city he called home — a city that was falling apart day by day.

“Miles!” That kid. That’s who he was — Miles Morales. And you were just you, jogging right behind him.

Stealing a glance of your expression — and hopefully nothing more — he kept ahead of you as the two of you walked to the counsellors office. Neither of you had anything to say, but Miles had so much to think about. You agreed to do the fair with him; maybe he shouldn’t have asked — he wasn’t here to make friends, after all. But you were here now, and he didn’t hesitate when he knocked on the door to the counsellors office.

“Come in!”

There was a screech of chairs as you two sat opposite the guidance counsellor, who was tapping away at her keyboard as usual. Miles’ eyes met yours for a brief second, and when you gave him a smile, he spent so long debating on whether or not to return it with his own that Ms. Weber had already placed a stack of freshly-printed papers on her desk.

“Firstly, you’re going to have to post these around school.” Miles looked at the obnoxiously modern and colourful posters, with “FRESHMAN CAREERS FAIR” in a dull font that was meant to look modern. He could probably make a better version himself, but he’d rather not spend any more time on the fair than he had to.

“I have a question,” you interrupted, straining to try and be polite. “Is this something I can put on my college application?”

“I’d assume so, since your friend is doing it for his,” Ms. Weber replied, glancing unassumingly at Miles through her red-framed glasses.

Like I wasn’t forced to. But you weren’t forced to. You chose to do this — for your… college application. Right.

“Okay, got it.” You nodded, letting Weber continue.

“Secondly, there’s a list of start-ups that will be here on the day. You should familiarise yourselves with them — you could find a useful connection.” Weber put a white piece of paper with some writing on top of the stack of posters.

“The ones that are highlighted are places we haven’t contacted yet.” There were only a few different businesses marked in yellow, one of which had “OSCORP” written next to it.

“Oscorp?” You seemed to notice too. Miles could only narrow his eyes.

“Their junior apprenticeship program starts soon” Weber explained, looking at Miles for a moment. “Maybe you should apply — especially you, Morales.”

Like Miles would ever work for Oscorp. They were the reason that his mom’s hospital was so underfunded. Unfortunately for him, he was supposed to pay them a visit anyway, regardless of how much he wanted to get into that tech school out of state.

“The fair’s going to be the Tuesday after winter break. Don’t forget.” She was looking more at Miles than you.

“Got it… Thank you, Ms…?” you trailed off, giving her a hopeful look.

She tapped sharply at the nameplate propped up on her desk. “Weber.”

“Ms. Weber,” you mirrored, nodding again and offering an awkward smile. “Thank you — we’ll try our best.

The two of you stepped out of the office, glancing at each other for a moment too long as you made it a couple of metres from the door.

“So uh…” you started. “Could I get your number?” …Huh?!

“Uh, I mean, like, so we can stay in contact,” you backtracked, trying not to grimace. “I mean, in case we need to talk over winter break.” He almost mirrored your grimace before nodding.

“Yeah, here.” Miles handed you his phone, careful to avoid brushing your hand this time before taking yours. He typed in his number, and then “Miles M.”

When he got his phone back, all you’d put in was your number. Without thinking, he typed in four letters: Pana. He slipped his phone in his pocket before he could question himself.

An extra class on Friday — with his pana. Miles could only rub his temples at the thought.

This whole school thing had gone farther than he’d hoped.

“As you exit, please be careful of the gap between the platform and the—”

Miles held back a grunt as people shoved past to leave the train carriage, eyes searching for you as he was practically being bounced around. If it wasn’t for Mr. Wellston’s useless rambling, he wouldn’t be going home on a Friday during rush hour, let alone on the last day before winter break.

“Stand clear of the closing doors, please.”

The top of your backpack peeked out and just as quickly disappeared as someone in office wear, and an enormous jacket, ploughed through right before the doors closed; he could hear your stumble.

“Cabrón… (Asshole…)” Miles muttered under his breath.

Truthfully, he’d passed his stop ages ago, but he wasn’t about to let you go home alone this late. He hadn’t even been this far down the line before, but he wasn’t exactly thinking clearly. Every night since you two went to the counsellor’s office, he’d been up, slinking through Brooklyn in his Prowler suit. People like you wouldn’t know, of course, but both Miles and his Uncle were picking up on things. With those dusty old police reports, the slew of missing people didn’t seem like much of a coincidence — and Miles didn’t think this “class” was one either.

In fact, Wellston himself didn’t seem like someone who was right to teach AP Calc. He certainly didn’t seem like the teacher type, and apart from that first class Miles had attended, all he really gave at this point were packs to do. And in that extra class of his, it was the exact same thing — except for that fact that he seemed to do everything to keep the two of you there.

“Are you sure you get it?” — “How did you get that number?” — “Where’s your calculator, Morales?”. Miles got you two out of there as fast as possible. At one point, he’d even written answers on your worksheet while Wellston wasn’t paying attention.

It was a hunch at most, but he’d always take his dad’s advice in stride, no matter how often he used to say it.

“Trust your gut, Miles.”

He wasn’t being over-protective, he was being cautious—

“What’s your problem, man?” Miles’ core tensed — like he’d done when training. He looked over to see you, and a total stranger.

“You got a place to be, huh? Can’t look where you’re goin’?”

Miles squeezed through a blockade of people to see you just standing there, unable to reply as a man blew up at you for seemingly no reason. The man’s words were getting progressively worse, his voice louder and his face so close to yours it made Miles cringe. The man’s eyes seemed to bulge out, but he wasn’t looking at you — or anything, really. He was clearly on drugs.

Miles was meant to get groceries for his mom. He kissed his teeth at the memory. Damn Wellston — and this guy.

The carriage was pretty much empty, being at the last few stops. Of course nobody cared when it came to stuff like this. Miles watched the veins in the man’s neck tighten, and his teeth were gritted together so hard it hurt to look at. He stopped his fist from clenching — he’d rather not start a fight with a junkie.

“Oy.” He put his hand on your shoulder, avoiding the man’s eyes. “Let’s get off here.”

“Wh—”

“Stand clear of the closing doors, please.” You two were out in about a second before the doors shut between you and the man, now violently knocking against the glass.

Holding onto your jacket, Miles kept you from falling as the train zipped past, the junkie long gone. He let out a sigh, eyes squeezing shut. This train station was stupidly bright.

“What was that for?” you asked, brows knitting together. “We could’ve just, I dunno, walked to a different carriage.”

“You serious?”

“The next train’s in…” Both of your eyes went to the screen, and you frowned. “20 minutes, Miles.”

“Well you would’ve had exactly zero minutes if that guy tried something.”

“Okay, that’s too far. There were other people—”

“They wouldn’t have done shit.” His annoyance only grew, and he couldn’t hold back when you were looking at him like that. “Where do you live? Cause it’s not Brooklyn — nobody gives a damn here.”

People were starting to look at you. “Are you gonna let go of my arm or what?”

Miles’ hand fell from your shoulder. He bit the inside of his cheek, his own heartbeat only muffled by the sound of the train approaching on the other platform.

“Do you really live that far?”

“Yes?” You said, almost incredulously. “Like, two stations away from here.”

“Then we’re walking.”

Your head snapped back to look at him. “Seriously?”

“You want me to leave you here?”

It came out more like a threat than a question. The realisation made Miles’ eye twitch, but that only served to make him look more pissed.

“Go on,” you replied, your expression lacking any conviction.

“Cabezón…” he muttered to himself, before turning to walk to the exit.

“What was that?”

Miles kept walking, and the sound of your footsteps a couple seconds later made him breath a sigh of relief. Maybe he was being paranoid, but he was almost certain someone was watching you back there.

When you both got to the gates, he waited before pulling you through the emergency exit with him. Despite your protest, you followed him through it, blending into the crowd of people leaving and entering the station. Metro cards were a waste of money anyway.

It was a long, silent and somewhat unsettling walk. Miles had been through every corner of Brooklyn, and right here was about where he’d start looking behind his back, even as the Prowler. For some reason, you just had to live a light year away from school and in one of the worst neighbourhoods in this damned concrete jungle.

Despite the regret building in his stomach from how he’d talked to you, he was forcing more rational concerns into his head: the turns you were taking, the people they passed, how close he should stay to you. All of it was habitual at this point, but he couldn’t risk being caught off-guard, especially when every adult man you passed was starting to look a bit too much like Wellston. If you were closer, maybe he could’ve kept an arm around you, or something. Good thing his mom wasn’t here to beat his ass for thinking like an idiot.

Trying not to imagine his mom’s voice, Miles kept just a few inches behind you, right until you reached the front door.

“…Thanks.” He couldn’t read your expression — when was the last time he overthought something?

“Don’t worry about it.”

There was another beat of silence, interrupted only by the “beep!” of your electronic key fob at the door.

“See you.” Your voice echoed through the hall, followed by footsteps as the door slowly shut in front of him. “Be safe.”

Like he needed to be told that. “…You too.”

Miles lingered by the door, looking at you for a moment longer before he forced himself to turn away. Almost immediately after, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket — Uncle Aaron.

42nd street

Special delivery for your ma

A supply interception — his mom’s hospital was probably short by now. Miles squeezed his eyes shut, blinking away the exhaustion before replying.

omw Delivered

His day hadn’t ended yet — not by a long shot. The Prowler was always on the clock.

pana = casual term used to refer to friends, means "buddy" or "pal" (used in puerto rico, venezuela etc)

cabezón = means "stubborn" or "big-headed"

from here on out it's just straight up drafting cause i wrote part 1 and 2 ages ago but i don't have anything for part 3 and 4 so !!!!

upload schedule if you didn't know is gonna be: this series one week and then a random one shot the next week (so hopefully ill post part 3 in around 2 weeks? im DROWNING in school work atm so don't hope too hard...) anyways have a good one ^^

reblogs appreciated as always <3 go back to the series masterlist here or go to my atsv masterlist here!

#miles g morales x reader #42!miles x reader #42!miles morales x reader #atsv fanfiction #earth 42 miles x reader #prowler miles x reader #miles g morales #miles g #42!miles #miles gonzalo morales #prowler miles #atsv x you #atsv #across the spiderverse #atsv x reader #vhstown

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hope-drunk · 1 year

Text

- thoroughfare | e. williams

| on the way to seattle, you decide to play a small game with ellie.

| content warning: f!reader, bottom!reader, top!ellie, oral (r receiving), pet names (baby, princess, pretty girl), implies ellie is taller than reader, reader takes dina’s role in the game (sorry dina), hunter and prey kink but not really, barely proofread and i hate this <3

Traveling through the woods with Ellie was more fun than you’d thought it would be. The long stretches on horseback felt like nothing when it was just you two talking. After you had found Jackson, albeit on accident, two years ago, you and Ellie became friends very quickly.

You two tried not to talk about the trip you were taking. Once she came to you with a location, there was no question in your mind about whether or not you would go with her. So, here you are now. Arms wrapped along Ellie’s torso, enjoying the scenery, and giggling like a maniac at some pun she’s said.

Once the laughter dies down, Ellie helps you off Shimmer, then puts her by a stream.

“We should stop for the night. Get some rest.” she says, taking out her sleeping bag, and a shotgun.

“Okay, yeah.” you say, following in her stride and getting your own sleeping bag out.

You were in a comfortable silence, setting up everything you needed to have a successful night.

“Do you want first or second shift?” you asked her.

“I’ll do both, just sleep.”

You scoff at her, “Ellie, if you’re the one getting us to Seattle I think it’s important you get some rest.” She shakes her head at you. “Please, for me.”

Ellie can’t deny the look you give her, your eyes are laced with genuine concern for her well being. It hasn’t been easy for her, and you know she doesn’t like sleeping because it just brings back the memories, but you figure something is better than nothing.

“Alright, I’ll take first shift.” she says, knowing she’ll “accidentally” let you sleep longer than you intend to.

She’s standing now, and your once worried eyes are now crinkled by a smile.

“Thank you, Ellie.”

“Whatever gets you there safely.” she replies, rubbing the inked fern covering her forearm.

“I’m gonna go look around while there’s still daylight, I need to stretch my legs.” you say, already starting to wander.

Ellie nods her head at you.

You don’t plan to go far, just enough to look at the different wildlife that lives out here. You walk around for about twenty minutes before Ellie calls your name.

“It’s getting too dark, come back.” she says.

“Why don’t you come and find me?” you yell back to her.

You hear her grumble to herself, and let out a sigh, then you hear the crunch of leaves under her beaten up shoes. This is your sign to scramble. You run behind a tree, one with a large trunk and sagging branches. Peeking out from behind, you find Ellie’s face through the branches. Her head was whipping around for any sign of you. You put your hands over your face, having to stifle your laugh, trying not to give yourself away. When you removed the digits from your eyes, Ellie was gone.

Now it was your turn to whip your head around. Your heart was suddenly racing. You knew she wasn’t in danger, but you didn’t know the reaction she would have to your impromptu game of hide and seek.

You felt hands on your shoulders. “Got ya.” Ellie whispers in your ear.

You gasp and she whips you around to face her. Usually, Ellie had a face that would comfort you. Right now? You were a bit intimidated by her. It felt like she had grown six inches since you saw her moments before. Her eyes even looked darker in this light. You try to back away from her, but you don't get far before you hit the tree that was once protecting you from her.

“Oh, first you’re hiding from me, now you’re trying t’run?” she says, moving impossibly closer to you.

The game wasn’t funny to you anymore. Actually, it was incredibly serious, and that was proven by the wetness that you felt pooling in your panties.

“Just wanted to play a game, Ells.” you say, suddenly finding your shoes very interesting.

Grabbing your chin, she says, “Don’t tell me you’re all shy now.” She follows your eyes every time that you try to look away.

For a second, just a second, you thought she was actually mad. But you could see her lips fighting a smile. Leaning down towards you, her nose brushes against yours.

“Tell me you want this.” Ellie says, whispering like you were in a room full of people.

“I want it.”

Her lips are on yours as soon as you finish the sentence. The hand that was holding your chin has now moved to your cheek, thumb caressing your face tenderly. Your hips move to meet hers, back arching off the tree. Ellie gets the hint, and uses her spare hand to reach down between your bodies. She undoes your pant button with ease, and shoves her hand into your jeans. You gasp as she begins to rub your clit over your underwear.

“Oh, Ellie.” you say while she moves her kisses to your neck.

“Don’t know why I’ve been waiting to do this.” she mumbles on your skin.

Stopping her assault on your neck, her hands smooth down your body before she practically rips your jeans and panties down to the ground. Her foot kicks your legs further apart before she drops to her knees in front of you. She runs a finger through your slick folds, humming in approval before diving in to taste you.

She sucks hard on your clit, causing your hand to move to her auburn hair, trying to steady yourself. Ellie sneaks a large hand up your shirt, toying with your nipple. You didn’t think you’d ever be this happy at forgetting to put a bra on. Her tongue was moving quickly through your folds. You look down at her, only to be met by her eyes.

The moan you let out is almost pornagraphic, and you swear you can feel Ellie smirk into your cunt. Her position on the ground made it feel like she was praying to you, she was worshipping your cunt.

Ellie comes up for a breath, thumb moving to rub your clit. “Taste so sweet, baby. Does it feel good?”

Your head nods on its own, which only causes Ellie to laugh.

“Feels s’good. Wanted this for so long.” you say, breathless.

“Yeah? Wanted me to fuck you? How many times did you think about me eating your cute little pussy like this while we were talking, hm? Did you go t’sleep every night with wet panties?”

You let out a moan at her words and nod your head again, but that’s not enough for her. She gives your thigh a quick smack.

“Yes! Yes, thought about it all the time. Oh please, Ellie, wanna cum so bad.”

She moves her head back towards your cunt, eating you out impossibly faster. Your legs start to shake, signaling your approaching orgasm. You’re practically grinding on Ellie’s face at this point, and she doesn’t mind one bit. While you use her tongue to get yourself off, she thinks this may be the peak of her life.

“I’m– gonna…” you try to finish your phrase, but it’s no use. Ellie moans into your pussy, and that sends you flying.

You’re sure your moans were loud enough to scare any wildlife away from you, and it took you awhile to even regain consciousness. When you did, Ellie was now standing in front of you again, trying to keep you propped up. You slouch into her chest while she rubs a hand up and down your back under your shirt.

“Shh… you’re alright, you’re alright pretty girl.” she coos.

She pulls your pants up, figuring she’ll have something to clean you up with back with all your stuff. Ellie basically carries you back to your sleeping bag, and makes sure you’re all clean before tucking you in.

“Ellie.” you whine out, feeling her presence move away from you.

“I’ve got first shift, remember? Go to bed, baby. I’ll wake you up.”

You mumble what she thinks is a complaint, before turning over and curling into yourself. It’s not long before she hears your breaths get deeper. Rubbing a hand over her face, she grabs her gun of choice before standing guard not far from your sleeping body.

Of course, Ellie doesn’t wake you up till the morning.

“I was supposed to take second shift!” you argue.

“You didn’t really seem in the position to keep watch, princess. Swear your legs were gonna give out if you had to stand for longer than ten seconds.” Ellie laughs out.

You turn red and let out a huff.

“C’mon, get on the horse. We can argue on the way.”

#ellie !#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams fic #ellie williams #ellie williams smut #tlou #ellie tlou #ellie williams x y/n

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masonm19 · 1 month

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when two became three - mason mount x reader

Your eyes snapped open as you felt your stomach start to churn. Remaining still, you tried to see if you could wait out the horrible feeling, hoping it would pass. It was a quiet morning, and the intention was that you could remain wrapped in your lovers arms as long as you liked that day. But your stomach had a different idea, and it apparently wasn't going away, evidenced by the nausea that was quickly overwhelming you.

Trying to be gentle as possible, you wiggled out of Mason's arms and started heading, sprinting actually, to the bathroom to empty the contents of your stomach. You could barely wait for the door to open before getting down on your knees and leaving over the toilet and emptying everything you had in your stomach. You hadn't realised that Mason had followed you; apparently you made more noise than you originally intended. He squatted down behind you before softly pulling your hair back and out of your face, murmuring soft things to you as you heaved.

"You're sick again," he observed quietly as you finally finished being sick and sat down on the floor, wiping your mouth with a tissue. He sat next to you, pausing only for a moment before pulling you into his lap, giving the side of your head a kiss, "Are you all right?"

"I think so," you sighed as you rested your head against his chest, "must have been something I ate. I don't see what else it could be, or it's just some kind of stomach bug."

"It's been happening a lot lately," he said softly, and you knew he was right. More often than not lately had you found yourself running and throwing up in the mornings, all kinds of different things causing your stomach to sour. "Maybe it's something you should get checked out?" Mason said softly before hugging me from behind, nuzzling his face into my shoulder before placing a kiss on my neck.

"I'm sure it's nothing," you tried to reassure him, looking up at him and nuzzling your noses against his, "it's probably something that's just hanging on and will clear up on its own."

"Y/N, my love, I don't want to take the chance that it is nothing," he insisted, putting his hand under your chin so you were looking up at him, seeing that there was nothing but concern in his soft brown eyes, "please promise me that you'll get it checked out. If not for your sake, then do it for mine."

"How can I say no to you?" You decided it was easier to give in to his simple request than try and fight him on it. Perhaps he had a point anyway, maybe it was something more to it than you originally thought, "I promise that I'll go and get it checked out and we'll see what's going on."

The following afternoon you found yourself getting through the crowded city in London making your way to the doctors. You walked up to the counter where you found the receptionist sitting there, setting your hands on the counter anxiously, "hi I was wondering if it was possible to see a doctor?"

"Of course! You've come at a good time, we're actually slow today," she smiled at you. Part of you wouldn't have minded if you were turned away and could return to Mason and pretend you'd got checked out and that nothing was wrong. But you knew he would be able to see right through you either way, he knows you too well.

"What's been going on?" The doctor asked, "I've been getting sick a lot lately," you started to explain, "mostly in the mornings, sometimes throughout the day. Just general nausea. I just want to make sure it's nothing serious. My husband was getting concerned too."

"Oh," the woman smiled at you, almost in a knowing way as she scribbled down a few notes, "go ahead and take a seat. I'll have someone with you in a few minutes."

Before you knew it, you were sitting on an examination table, swinging your legs back and forth as y Ou waited for the doctor to return. She'd spent a few minutes talking to you before performing an examination that didn't last long. It was a most as she, just as the receptionist at the front, already knew what was going on. Part you felt like it was just going to be something obvious, that should've easily been able to fig Ure on your own.

"Y/N," the doctor came back in, a smile on your face as she clutched her clipboard to her chest. She didn't seem worried, but rather happy, and you felt a bit of relief wash through your body, "You don't have anything to worry about. But I have one question for you."

"Go ahead."

"What is the date of your last menstrual cycle?" You were taken aback for a moment before trying to think of the date, racking your brain. That's when you realised you couldn't remember. It hadn't been last month, the month before that.

"Ermm," you said as you hung your head, "I honestly don't remember. It must have been at least-"

"Three months?" She asked and you nodded in response. How had it been that long and you hadn't noticed? It had always come like clockwork every month, except recently. You should've noticed, this was deal to miss, "Which I think you know what this means."

"Huh?" You asked as you still didn't manage to put two and two together, "I don't-"

"You're pregnant," she said as your jaw dropped at her announcement, "your about three months pregnant."

"Pregnant," you repeated, the word bouncing around in your head. Pregnant. Pregnant. Pregnant, "I can't be pregnant."

"Well, I'm here to tell you that you are," she pulled a few papers from her clipboard and handed them to, "this has all the details and information you need. There's going to be a lot of changes happening so there is plenty of information on that, and different options. I know you might be scared right now, but it'll be okay. You'll always have someone by your side to help you with whatever decision you make."

"Thank you," you hadn't realised that tears were welling in your eyes, from fear, excitement and relief now that you had your answer. You should have known all the signs that would lead up to this, how could you be stupid? The doctor put a hand on your shoulder and gave it a gentle, but reassuring squeeze,

"It's a lot. I feel like this is really obvious but I had no clue."

"Don't worry," she said with a wink, "a lot of people don't. It may seem obvious, but in the moment when it's happening to you, it's not obvious at all."

"Thank goodness," you said with a nervous laugh, "it's a lot to take in."

"Congratulations," she beamed at you, "I'm sure you must be excited to tell your husband."

"My husband," you repeated as realisation set in and you'd have to actually tell Mason. Besides, it wasn't something that you were just going to be able to ignore for much longer, and he's know anyway, he was perceptive as could be, "yes, that should be interesting."

"Is this your first?"

"Yes, it is our first, so all the emotions are kicking in right now."

"I'm sure you and your husband have so much to be excited for!" She said as she made a few notes on her chart, "well you're free to go, and make sure to come back and see us soon, to make sure to set appointments for regular check ups."

"Of course," you were still feeling shell-shocked as you tried to process everything, "I'll be sure to do that."

You got home to Mason startling you from behind.

"Y/N?" He asked as he came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his head on your shoulder, "you're home."

"I'm home," you smiled at the sound of his familiar voice, "where were you?"

"Just went out," he spun you around so you were facing him. He reached behind him on the counter and showed you a blooming bouquet of bright flowers, "getting you these. I figured they might help cheer you up since you haven't been feeling well.

You felt your heart melt before you kiss Mason and give him a tight hug, "my handsome. Thank you so much, seriously. You have no idea what it this means to me."

"It's because I love you so much," Mason reached over and brushed a lock of hair out of your face.

"I love you too," you said as you leaned into his touch, having rested his hand on your cheek.

"How did it go with the doctor? Did you find out what's been going on?" He asked and you nodded in response. Of course he was going to ask right away, he was probably more concerned than you were. You thought about lying to him so you could surprise him, but didn't have it in your heart, knowing he would call you out about it right away.

"I did, yeah," you answered, giving him a small nod,"it's nothing bad."

"What's going on then?" He asked, trying to get you to look at him, "what happened, sweetheart?"

You suddenly felt nervous, unsure of how to spit it out and just tell him the news. It was just two simple words, but you somehow they seemed like the hardest ones, "it's just that I'm...."

"What is it?" He asked softly, as he gave you a smile, his dark eyes soft. You loved everything about him, but in that moment it all seemed intensified; Mason really was your everything. Before you could stop yourself, you leaned over and pecked his lips, lingering against them for just a moment. He chuckled as he put an arm around your waist, "come on, tell me, you've got me on pins and needless here!"

"I'm pregnant," you blurted out before you could stop yourself, a hand going to your mouth in surprise.

Mason looked at you stunned for a moment for a moment, his brow furrowing as a look of confusion crossed his features. He remained silent for a moment as he went through about ten different emotions all at once.

"Pregnant," he repeated as he tested the word out, seeing how it sounded coming from his own lips, "pregnant? You're pregnant."

"Yes," you said as you tried to figure out whether or not he was happy, "please tell me you're not upset."

"Upset?" He asked quietly as you gave him a small nod, the back of your eyes stinging with tears, "I'm not upset, not in the slightest. I'm happy, my love, so fucking happy."

"You are?" You asked as a single tear rolled down your cheeks, only to be quickly wiped away by Mason, "I'm so scared."

"It's okay to be scared," he said as his own eyes started to get glassy, "I"m scared too, but it'll be okay. Everything will be perfect, because we're having a baby. We're having a baby. I love you so much, Y/N."

Mason pulled you close to him and rested his forehead against yours, one of his favourite signs of affection, "I can't believe this is happening. Everything is perfect, I couldn't have asked for anything better."

"I'm glad you're happy, Mason," you said quietly, "I love you so much."

"I am and I love you," he whispered back, "more than anything else in the world. The two of you, referring to the unborn baby in your stomach"

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