Milly Tmf Novels & Stories

Jackson teased back. Milli’s mother was a French mulatto from Louisiana Creole country, and her afro-like hair became fluffy in the bakery’s heat despite Milli’s attempts to pull it up in a bun. By the end of a shift, she could pull out the elastic stays and her hair would stand up almost straight for the first half-hour, earning her the nickname troll doll. That and her favorite pastime – trolling her bestie with practical jokes.

I said as I crossed my arms in front of my chest. "I love mint choco." He said and I stopped. "Disgusting!" I hissed and he laughed. "Why is that disgusting? It's good." "I feel like brushing my teeth when I eat that flavour." I shook my head. "Do you have a pet?" He asked. "I have a black labrador at home. How about you?" "Really? I have a labrador too!" He said and I turned to him completely surprised. "Millie.. her name." "Blue.. his name." I turned to him and looked at him straight into his eyes.

I replied. "If you knew how to keep him safe he wouldn't have been here in the first place, fucking idiot," she retorted, her tone completely changed from playful to serious. "He's a kid, Arturo. He knows absolutely nothing and people will take advantage of that." "We already know that, stop with all the sermon. Let us see him," Tiago said, stepping up beside him. "You men are so impatient," she said before finally opening the floor. "I'll leave you be, I have guests to entertain," she said before leaving us alone, bringing Milan with her.

MILLY I didn’t move for a long time after Declan found the old cassette player in the corner of the storage unit, dusty but functional, exactly the kind Clara must have kept specifically for tapes like this. “You don’t have to listen to it tonight,” he said gently. “I do.” My hands were still shaking around the tape. “I’ve spent my whole life feeling like Milly Whitmore. Tonight I found out that girl was never real. I need to hear who I actually was before I can figure out who I’m supposed to be now.”

Zara Milli Lane didn’t scream. Not when her father was kidnapped. Not when Juliette burned down her first pop-up. Not when Alec confessed he was a billionaire hiding in thrift store jeans. But seeing her mother smiling beside Marissa Hart on that press release? It cracked her wide open.

MILA Sophomore Year “Hi! I’m Mila Davis. I am a strong, beautiful, black girl and I don't need…” I looked down at the text message from my friend, Gabe, who hasn’t been to school all week. Affirmation for the day he texted. I cleared my throat and looked back into the mirror. “...and I don’t need validation from anyone but myself.”