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sundrop-writes · 2 months

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Hiii !! I wanted to request a reaction for Derek, Emily and Spencer

When Single Parent! Reader (GN is fine !!) has to bring their daughter to the BAU for a little bit and she won't stop following the Character around and doesn't want to leave "her new friend" when its time to go? Thank you sm in advance if you write it !! 💕💕

i might swing by later with a dif request, this was the first thing my sleep ridden brain blessed me with ;p

I love this so much (I have been in such a parent fic mood since writing the Dad Spence fic, Star thank you so much) - I think this idea is so adorable, I love it!!!

(I wrote Derek's part and then trailed off and left this in my drafts for a few days, so sorry if there's a huge disconnect between the characters' parts. Ooops.)

Requests are currently - OPEN

How would Derek Morgan, Emily Prentiss, and Spencer Reid react to your daughter becoming attached to them? (Derek, Emily, and Spencer x GN!Reader)

Warnings: mentions of corporate/white collar crimes (embezzlement, etc.); mentions of the reader being threatened by white collar criminals, mentions of criminals threatening to kill a child; as it says in the title, the reader has a daughter but the reader's gender is not described in any way; surprisingly, for this one, I didn't give the daughter a name. idk, I think that's it. (Edit: now fixed so that the reader is actually fully GN and I am so sorry about the mistake before!!!)

It was a pretty basic case. You were an attorney working on a large company merger - you had found evidence of millions of dollars being embezzled, and when you had copied the files with the intention of bringing them to the IRS, you had started receiving threatening letters. It weighed on your conscience - you knew that the men who ran the company had more than enough money and resources to make you disappear, likely leaving your daughter an orphan, leaving her to wonder what had happened to you for the rest of her life. When you received another letter with photos of your daughter at her preschool attached, now threatening her - you had made your decision fully.

You took your files and evidence to the BAU - you had met Rossi at a seminar he gave, talking about how sociopathy is incredibly common in corporate circles - how sociopaths do very well in corporate jobs due to their driven, goal oriented, emotionless nature. And warning signs to look out for if someone is using those traits to cross into dangerous territory. It was a seminar you had gone to out of curiosity, but you were glad that you had taken his card and you were able to contact him now.

He invited you to the BAU, and the team offered to take your case - to find out who was threatening you and bring them to justice.

Derek found you incredibly beautiful.

He was intrigued by your looks at first, and when Hotch mentioned that someone needed to interview you and get the full details from you in order for the team to get a better perspective on the case, Derek volunteered immediately. He hadn't gotten a full briefing - too eager to get to talk to you.

He came into the room with a bottle of water for you, looking to comfort you with his smile and his charms, and he was surprised when Penelope came back into the room and a small girl came barreling toward you, incredibly excited to tell you that she had gotten M&Ms from the vending machine (which Penelope had taken her to).

Typically, Derek didn't go for people who had kids. Any other time, with any other person - it would have immediately turned him off. It would have dampened your attractiveness in his eyes. He generally had a 'no single parents' policy, because he thought that dating someone with kids was just a lot of baggage. But seeing you - he was immediately taken with you. And seeing you with your daughter, somehow made you instantly more attractive.

And he thought the way that you scooped your daughter up into your lap and let her feed you M&Ms with her chubby little fingers was all too cute. It was unprofessional, but the case definitely wasn't the only thing on his mind that day.

Penelope took your daughter out of the room again while Derek interviewed you, and it was only when you spoke of the fear you felt for your daughter - the potential of her being her by the anonymous person, that you actually teared up. Derek couldn't help but to pull you in close, holding you tight in an effort to comfort you (secretly loving how tightly you hugged him back) - and it was in that moment that he vowed to himself that he would do whatever it took to protect you and your child. He would always keep the two of you out of harm's way.

And he certainly tried his hardest to accommodate your daughter when he found out that the two of you would be sticking around the office for the day - to ensure that you would be protected until the team found out who had sent the threats. He got her a kids meal with a toy when he ordered lunch, he knew there wasn't much in the office in the way of "toys" - but he swung by Garcia's office borrowed something she had that was fuzzy and lights up (with the promise of returning it) and he scrounged up a blank pad of paper and some coloured pens so your daughter could have something to do.

It wasn't surprising when she excitedly ran over to his desk and gave him a picture she had drawn of him - a very cartoonish muscled man with his same facial hair and an eggish bald head. His exaggerated features in the picture made you and Morgan laugh, and before you left the BAU for the day (when your safety was assured and the local police were on their way to arrest the men who had made the threats to you) - you found a different pen and wrote your number on the bottom corner of the picture for him.

He knew that something in you had changed him when he started thinking about taking you on a first date in the park - something your daughter could enjoy as well, rather than considering what bar or late night restaurant he was going to take you to.

Emily was surprised by the entire thing.

She hadn't been around children since, well - she was one. Due to events in her past, and due to the way her mother treated her, she never imagined herself being a parent. Ever. She was someone who thought that she was just naturally terrible with kids, like her own mom was. She hadn't met the person she thought that she could settle down with, so she never thought that kids were in the cards for her. So it definitely caught her off guard when your daughter seemed to take to her like a duck to water.

It was in her natural instinct to comfort you. You were so shaken up about the whole thing, the anonymous danger lurking in your life - and she took some extra time to assure you that things were going to be okay, that the team was the best, and they were going to catch whoever was doing this.

She thought it was a natural kindness to get down on your daughter's level and ask what she was playing with, to compliment her cute little doll and then take her down the hallway to grab a snack to give you a few minutes to breathe. The little girl was sweet and Emily didn't mind spending some extra time with her.

On their way back along, your daughter plucked a crossword puzzle book off Emily's desk and asked what it was, and Emily explained it - so then she took a few minutes to find some crosswords for children online and printed them out, and when she came to delivery them, alone with some pens, your daughter enthusiastically asked if Emily would sit and 'show her' - and while you said that Emily was busy and had other work to do, Emily shrugged and said she had a few minutes to spare. Again, she thought it was common manners, sitting with the girl on her lap while she guided her through the puzzles, praising her intellect when she got the answers right.

She didn't see the way you were looking at the pair, pure affection bubbling up in your eyes.

When the day was over, and it was cleared as safe for you and your daughter to return home, the little girl let out a loud complaint that she didn't want to leave her 'new friend Emily' - and Emily couldn't have predicted the way that those words tugged at something in her chest. She didn't know what led her to kneeling down at the girl's level, promising to see her that weekend when she had a free day - that was, if you didn't mind. Getting nothing but a bright smile from you, and feeling a certain spark there.

(She had to resist the urge to punch Morgan in the ribs when she walked back to her desk to nothing but teasing, how she was getting 'the whole family package' on 'her first date'.)

Spencer found the whole thing (secretly) adorable.

It is no secret that Spencer loves kids. He is very good with kids, and it's clear by the way he acts around kids that he definitely wants kids of his own someday. He hasn't met 'the one' yet - the person that he's going to have kids with. Whether that's through the natural, old-fashioned way or through adoption. But he did always imagine that if he raised kids of his own, it would be from infancy.

He never imagined that the person he was meant to be with would stumble into his life with a child that was already walking and talking - but when he met you and your daughter, it felt so right. Even if the circumstances were a bit dark.

He interviewed you about the whole situation, and when you apologized for crying and getting emotional, he was quick to assure you that it was natural - you were shaking, and though Spencer was usually someone to avoid touch, he found his need to hold you so overwhelming. He didn't regret his choice to wrap his arms around you when you hugged him back tightly.

When your daughter burst into the room (no longer occupied making paper airplanes with Emily and JJ), she was quick to ask why you were crying, extending out a small chubby finger to point at you, seemingly warbling with half-baked tears of her own at seeing you so upset. Spencer knelt down and assured her that everything was going to be okay, and then he moved to distract her by taking the little paper airplane out of her hand and telling her that he knew a trick to make it fly so much farther.

And he did. It was simple aerodynamics and folding techniques. And then they stood near the top of the bullpen, silently trying to get Morgan to look up by flying planes onto his desk - and the man couldn't bring himself to get too mad when he heard childish giggling coming from your daughter every few minutes.

You truly felt those butterflies for Spencer turn into more when he showed your daughter a trick that ended with a fake flower somehow coming out of his sleeve - something feathery and pink that he tucked behind her ear for her to keep, having her smiling and laughing brightly on a day where you had been wracked with worry, fearing for her life.

By the time the day was over and both of your safety was assured, you weren't surprised that she didn't want to leave him. And you made the bold move, telling him (rather than asking him) - that he should come over for dinner and a movie on Saturday, and then leaning over to gently whisper in his ear that the two of you could enjoy a another, more adult flick after your daughter was tucked into bed. Your daughter was too excited at the prospect of seeing Spencer again, tugging on his pant leg, waiting for him to agree - and he was speechless at the implications of what you had said.

He couldn't even think of the word 'no' if he tried.

So, it was a date, then.

Criminal Minds Masterlist

#star-mum #interactions #requests #requested #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #derek morgan x reader #derek morgan #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds x you #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic

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swirlingthings · 7 months

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so… i accidentally wrote an entire scene based off an idea i posted on here about a month ago. it brought itself into existence honestly, i’m still not sure how it happened. never written anything like this before. it’s called ‘alien thing’. see if you can work it out before aziraphale does. enjoy :)

And perhaps, after a while, the team at the Saddlescombe and Poynings Observer newspaper office would be alarmed to discover that the crossword they had devised for today’s edition had mysteriously been replaced by one that nobody recalled sending to the printing press, or indeed seeing before at all. And in a cottage not too far away, Aziraphale would settle down into the sofa with the paper like he always did at this time of the afternoon; his slice of cake (Victoria Sponge today - “you can’t go wrong with a classic like that”, he’d told Crowley in the supermarket), his mug of tea and an HB pencil ready for him on the side table. And Crowley, on the sofa next to him holding a small book which had been miracled into existence the moment Aziraphale had gotten up to fetch the newspaper, would be so intent on doing everything possible to not look in the angel’s direction that he’d stare too hard at the potted plant across the room and cause it to wilt.

“How odd.” Aziraphale says, ruffling the page slightly as if he were testing to see if moving it would somehow change the way it was printed.

“What?” Crowley says, calmly. He was incredibly calm when he said this, calmly.

“This crossword.” Aziraphale replies, brow furrowing. “I think… look, look at this.”

Aziraphale shuffles across to the middle of the sofa, holding his arm out in front of Crowley so that he could see the newspaper clearly.

“Look. Here.” Aziraphale points with his pencil. “5 Down, six letters: ‘Luminescent dust between star systems’. I think it’s NEBULA.”

“Sounds plausible.” says Crowley, his eyes not moving away from the paper.

“Well, that’s not all. NEBULA gives us the ‘B’ for 12 Across, eight letters: ‘Parisian fortress’, which must be BASTILLE.” The pencil moves down and waves around a clue, then shoots back up again. “And the ‘E’ from that gives us SERPENT for 10 Down! Isn’t that funny?” Aziraphale says brightly. He looks up and beams at Crowley, who is still staring directly at the paper.

“Why’s that funny?”

“Well…” says the angel, his smile turning peaceful. “I don’t know. It just made me think of you, I suppose. What with your being a serpent in Eden, and rescuing me from the Bastille. And the nebulas, from Before…” Aziraphale laughs softly and settles back on his side of the sofa. “I don’t know. I’m being silly. I just thought it was funny.” he says, running a hand through his hair and picking up his mug.

And perhaps the minutes would pass, and Aziraphale would think between sips of tea and scribbles of pencil that there really was something rather odd about this crossword, wasn’t there? 17 Down, eight letters: ‘Machine run by rotating vanes’. WINDMILL. That was the name of the theatre in Soho where he had performed his magic show. Crowley had almost shot him. They’d had wine afterwards, in the bookshop. 2 Across, seven letters: ‘Remarkable and unbelievable occurrence’. That had to be MIRACLE. 21 Across, five letters: ‘Japanese vinegared rice dish’. SUSHI. His favourite.

And Crowley would sit excruciatingly still, in absolute silence, and make no attempt to actually read the book he was holding open in his lap. He would be far too busy trying to look cool.

“Crowley…” Aziraphale looks up at him, after a while, another smile creeping across his face. “26 Across is INEFFABLE.”

“Oh? You stuck?” Crowley says, stretching out his legs and keeping his gaze fixed on a page of the book. Wait… was he holding it upside down?

“What?”

“Well, if it’s ineffable you can’t describe it in words, can you? So you don’t have the answer?” Crowley slithers down the sofa cushion and holds the book in front of his face. He’s a very busy demon with important things to be busy with. “Finding the word’s the whole point of a crossword. You must be stuck.”

“No, I mean the answer is INEFFABLE, Crowley.” Aziraphale’s smile spreads wider. “You know full well what I mean!” he said, nudging him sharply with his feet. Another “Oh?” emanates from somewhere behind the book, which Aziraphale grabs and puts to one side.

“What on Earth have you done?” he laughs, his eyes first on Crowley then returning to the paper. “14 Down: ‘A small settlement without a church’... HAMLET! Oh Crowley, the play!” he says, jotting it down with the pencil.

Crowley smiles too. “How are you doing on the letters?”

“Yes, it’s six letters, HAMLET.”

“No, I mean the letters in bold. In the boxes. For the final bit.”

Aziraphale looks back at the paper, and notices that around a few of the letters he had already pencilled in, the margins of the boxes were heavier than the rest.

“It’s a puzzle thing. What’s it called… an anagram.” Crowley continues, leaning over on one arm and turning to face him. “Look at the letters in bold and it makes something else.”

Aziraphale gasps excitedly, and starts to note down the emphasised letters in a patch of empty space towards the bottom of the page. The ‘A’ from BASTILLE, the ‘E’ from SERPENT, the ‘L’ from NEBULA…

“Crowley…” he says smugly, and proudly folds the paper to his chest to indicate he is finished with it. “Is it AZIRAPHALE?”

“Don’t just guess. Work it out.” Crowley says gently. Aziraphale’s pencil resumes its scratching against the paper. He wonders how he ever lived in his flat in Mayfair, void of this softness and this warmth and this angel. They’ve been in the cottage now for a good few years. It’s all the things he loved about Aziraphale’s bookshop, with the added bonus of never worrying if he’s overstayed his welcome. It’s theirs, together, completely. He’s forgotten he was ever holding a book, let alone supposed to be busy doing something else, like trying to look cool.

“Oh, no, there’s the N from WINDMILL.” Aziraphale mutters, leaning forward to write on the paper which is now resting neatly on his knees. “Unless… I was wrong about that one?”

“Don’t look at me, I’m saying nothing.”

“No, I’m not wrong. Hold on.”

Crowley sits up a bit more, putting his elbow on the back of the sofa cushion and leaning the side of his head against his hand. He listened to Aziraphale continuing on - “I’ve got ALIEN. Hmm, wait…” - while he curled up his legs underneath himself. His nerves had eased slightly (Aziraphale’s smile had that effect on him) but had not dissipated.

“INHALE? No, no, there’s two ‘I’s. Oh, I’m still missing some!” Aziraphale says. There was another comfortable pause while he scanned the remaining clues.

“Right. 6 Across must be… PEAR. I love pears. That one doesn’t get us any further with the anagram, though.” Aziraphale says, looking over at Crowley as if he were learning this for the first time and might be disappointed by the news. As if he hadn’t snuck downstairs in the middle of the night on three separate occasions last week to draft every detail in a notebook which promptly ceased to exist once he’d finalised his plan. He’d sent off the miracle at one in the morning.

“16 Across, ten letters: ‘Destruction of civilisation’. Well, that’s rather dramatic.” Aziraphale looks up, a tad disapprovingly. “APOCALYPSE? No, that doesn’t fit with HALO - the penultimate letter must... oh, ARMAGEDDON! Of course. Wonderful! That gives us a second ‘N’.” he says triumphantly.

“Aren’t you clever.” Crowley says, which earns him another sharp nudge in the thigh.

“And then we have the ‘G’ from GARDEN, which gives us… the ‘T’, from BENTLEY. Is it definitely not ALIEN, then? I’ve got ALIEN THING.”

“No, angel, it’s not ALIEN THING. Stop guessing. You’re still missing some, look at it carefully.”

There’s another patch of silence. Crowley shifts uncomfortably on the cushion, unfurling his legs and stretching them out over the edge of the sofa again. He scratches the back of his head and resumes staring at the now fully wilted plant opposite him. His nerves are back. Not long to go now. Aziraphale’s clever, really clever, and he does one of these things every aftern-

As if on cue, the angel suddenly sits bolt upright.

The silence hangs in the air. Questions like ‘Why did I think this was a good idea?’ and ‘How am I going to pretend this never happened?’ start to creep into Crowley’s brain. His face feels hot.

“Oh, Crowley…” Aziraphale says, with almost palpable softness. Crowley dares to glance over: Aziraphale’s holding the paper with both hands and looking down at it, eyes beginning to water.

“Crowley…” he says again, frantically scanning every inch of the paper. He wants to be sure he’s right before he says anything. Crowley knows he will be, and briefly considers whether he could get away with stopping time, but it’s too late for that now.

“It’s NIGHTINGALES.”

Aziraphale looks up at him.

“Is it?” Crowley says, in a tone which he hoped sounded like he actually was learning this for the first time.

“Oh Crowley!”

He suddenly finds himself pressed against various layers of linen and wool.

“You sweetheart!” Aziraphale squeals, as he pulls him up from the sofa cushion and into the hug.

Crowley’s growl is muffled slightly by Aziraphale’s shoulder. “I’m not sweet, I-” Whatever he tried to say next would surely be drowned out by Aziraphale’s laughter anyway, so he lets it go.

“You’re so clever.” Azirpahale says, settling himself directly beside Crowley and reaching for the paper, which he had flung to the floor when he’d moved. He looks over it again. “It must have taken forever, to work out all of that.”

“Nah. It was nothing, angel.”

Aziraphale smiles at the paper. “Well, I am thoroughly impressed. I…” He turns to look Crowley in the eyes. “I should have worked it out sooner than that. I didn’t… I didn’t realise that’s what you were trying to say. That that was the point of it, I mean.”

“Don’t worry. I knew you’d get them all.”

“That was very romantic of you, you know. To do all of that and have it be about us.”

“Shut up.”

“Well, it was.” Aziraphale smugly folds the paper in half. “I love you too.”

“Yeah, yeah, alright. Make my day.”

He gets a kiss on the cheek for that.

“Gosh, I expect the rest of my tea has gone a bit cold now.” Aziraphale says, without any trace of complaint. He wiggles back over to his side of the sofa and has a forkful of cake. “Well, that was exciting. I didn’t know they let people submit their own crosswords.”

There was a pause.

“Crowley.”

“It’ll be fine.”

“Oh Crowley no, that’s awful. You should have asked for their permission.”

“Don’t worry.” He smiles at Aziraphale. “They won’t notice.”

the end :))

#good omens #good omens 2 #aziraphale #crowley #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #good omens story #well… it’s a fic really isn’t it #good omens fic

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yandere-kokeshi · 5 months

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Can i request platonic yandere 141 x darling who has a speech impediment? When they go out and the waiter asks him what he wants he gets nervous and struggles, often goes mute etc. How would they feel if the darling asks them to talk for him?

Warnings: yandere behavior, feat of being made fun of, and Platonic fluffiness — NOTHING ROMANTIC

A/N: Even though you requested for male, there are no pronouns stated; hope you can still enjoy this <3. I had fun writing this!

To start, they don’t bat an eye nor care that you have a speech impediment. It’s just another thing to you, the same with scars or appearance. Of course, they do know that snide comments are expected, especially in public, but they’ve shown many times to be all respectful, and not having an ounce of frustration when it comes down to you.

With words and pronunciation, they know how difficult it can be.

This said, whenever you are talking about something, and get stuck on a word — their eyes flicker at you, before one of them will give you a synonym that’s easier for you to pronounce. Letting you continue on with a second-thought.

With their own ways of showing affection, it’s the same with helping you. Simon and Kyle are often the ones that try to let you do things on your own, but also step in if needed. As for Simon, he’s quieter when helping you, especially if you’re having trouble. A rough hand will grab yours, and he’ll avoid your gaze with silence, only giving you a small nudge to resume your story. Now, starting with another letter or giving yourself a short break to try once more.

Gaz is more gentle, looking at you before guessing the word or filling it in with a description of the word; laughing when you nod frankly at his finishing. He also helps you through pronunciation, spelling it out with baby steps, and ensuring that you don’t feel embarrassed or bad for going slow. Everyone learns at their own pace, and their own way.

As for Price and Johnny, both of them can be quite overbearing. They like to take advantage of you asking for help, which makes them talk through every interaction in public.

Price is more prominent to jump in, spewing out what you were going to say — before looking at you with a questioning look when he notices that it annoys you. When you try to talk to him about it, he gently waves it off, saying that: “I was helping ya’ kiddo, no need to be embarrassed for asking for it. We know you like the back of my hand, yeah?”

With Johnny, he has a tendency of guessing your words, spewing them out like a machine gun; which only frustrates you more. Towards the end, he gets it right. But it doesn’t mean it is incredibly annoying.

When eating out all together, especially at a place that can be busy, all of them take patience really seriously; they know how mean people can be. So when eating at a restaurant, they let you talk until they read you can’t do it anymore; Soap actively making jokes to the waiter to ensure they’ll wait.

But, when it comes down to the waiter, who's only giving you the ‘eye look’, or simply being impatient. Price or the others will step in and finish it for you, looking at you with a nod and a gentle smile.

Masterlist || Please consider reblogging and commenting instead of liking. It helps me as a creator!! Stay well!!

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jksprincess10 · 10 days

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White face and black eyes || Joel Miller x reader

Summary: You explore an abandoned mall and Joel discovers one of your kinks.

CW: Sub/dom dynamics, reader is hinted at being younger and not knowing much of the world before so age gap, mask kink, pet names (darling, honey, baby, little girl), praise kink, Joel is rough, a bit of knife play, fingering, bj, riding, publicish sex in a post-apocalyptical setting, reader is cock drunk, minimal editing and all mistakes are mine.

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

“I’m goin’ to the right, you’re goin’ to the left. We join in the middle.” Joel ordered, flashlight over his gun as he looked around carefully, an eagle watching a potential pray.

“Fine.”

Part of your exploration consisted of visiting this old mall to find anything of substance. Sadly, in the midst of the panic, everything was mostly taken. Still, you sometimes found something interesting and new to you. Like this little cabin that looked like a time machine you found after walking for a bit. It was a rectangular cabin, the opening covered by a threadbare curtain. Withing the faded letters, you could barely distinguish the words “photobooth”. You were foreign to this concept, being born not too long before the modern world ended.

Carefully, you stepped inside the weird cabin. It was a tight fit. Inside was a weird broken screen and a tiny seat, that could only fit two people max. You pressed the buttons, and a weird mechanical voice made you jump.

At almost the same time, the curtain opened, and you were met with an elongated white mask with an absurdly long dark mouth and equally black eyes. You muffled a scream under your hand. You heard Joel’s familiar chuckle under the plastic mask.

“What the fuck, Joel!”

“Did I scare ya, darlin’?”

“Yes!”

But the more you looked at him, the more something strange stirred in you. Joel was an attractive man, you weren’t blind. But the familiarity of seeing his flannel-covered chest and broad shoulders mixed with the foreignness of the mask on his face made you feel… aroused.

“Why are you lookin’ at me like that?”

“Fuck it.” You mumbled and pulled Joel in the cabin. “Sit down.”

It was a tight fit, but curious, Joel obeyed. His spread thighs were taking up the whole space as you kneeled in front of him.

“Keep it on, please.”

His rough hand grabbed the base of your neck and the menacing black holes looked down at you as he tutted. “S’enough orders, honey don’t ya think?”

“S-Sorry.”

“Good.”

You looked down at his gun hidden in his holder as he took his pocketknife in his hand, using the pointy end to keep your chin up. “You gonna listen to me now?”

“Yes sir.”

Joel’s free hand undid his leather belt and you watched in wonder as he freed his strained cock. His hand circled its girth, pumping it a few times.

“Ya want it?”

You let out a desperate noise and with a dark laugh, he freed you, letting you go wild. You wrapped your mouth around his aching cock, tasting the headiness and saltiness of him. You moaned around him, the vibrations of your voice sending shivers down his spine. You kept your eyes strained on his masked face, a mixture of arousal and fear pooling in your panties. You shut your thighs together, desperately trying to gain some friction as you bobbed your head up and down his cock, giving him your best performance. You could hear his muffled grunts under the mask and feel his body tensing, the knife long abandoned on the floor.

“You wan’ more of that cock, yeah?” He grabbed the base of your neck to pull you away, watching as a mixture of spit and pre-cum escaped your lips. You nodded dumbly and let him pull you up, before stripping off your pants and panties.

“Mask kink, huh?” He observed as two of his thick fingers collected some of the wetness on your slit. “Didn’t know ya were such a dirty lil’ girl.” Joel’s calloused digits circled your clit at a practiced pace, and you fell against him, made limp by pleasure.

“Please Joel, can I have it?” You asked between moans.

“Don’t wanna hurt ya.” There was a hint of sweetness in his voice, despite him treating you so roughly minutes ago.

“I can take it!” You whined.

“Yeah? Then don’t ya fuckin’ whine if it hurts, baby.”

You straddled his hips. “I won’t.” You promised.

His big hands held your hips as he let you sink down on his cock, slowly.

“Look at me.”

Your gaze fixated on the white face and black holes that replaced his eyes, your mouth parting slightly as you let him stretch your walls, molding your body to his girth.

“Good girl.” He grumbled while he bottomed out. “Now stay still and le’me fuck ya.”

Joel’s hips moved at a painfully fast pace, letting you no time to adjust. Pain and pleasure melted together in your core and if you weren’t worried about getting killed by strangers in an abandoned mall, you’d scream.

“J-Joel… C-Can I see your face now?”

He slowed his hip thrusts. “Thought you didn’t wanna see it, huh?” He let go of your hips with one of his hands and slipped the mask off, letting it fall on the bottom of the cabin.

“I-I wanna see how y-you look at me while you fuck me, Joel.”

He grabbed onto your hips again and his dark gaze held yours as he thrusted up roughly, hitting that spongey spot inside of you that made you see stars. You struggled to keep your eyes open, but you held your gaze to his honeyed brown orbs, your mouth falling open in a silent scream. Your orgasm was destructive, and his was equally as intense as he stilled inside of you, hot spurts of cum painting your walls.

You fell limply against him, and your mouth slotted onto his, tasting Joel’s new familiarity.

“We might not have found much, but I want to keep the mask.” You chuckled against his lips.

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x yn #joel miller x y/n #joel miller tlou #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x f reader

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canyourfavesurvivecastledracula · 25 days

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Okay, I'm just gonna do it: JAMES BOND. (Daniel Craig edition, because there are several and they're all actually pretty different from each other.) IN HIS FAVOR: --this man has his manners on LOCK. He's not going to be a rude houseguest, even once he determines he dislikes Dracula, which... --he's one of the foremost spies for one of the foremost agencies in the world. He knows something is up with Dracula probably before he even gets on the coach. Hell, he might know as soon as he mentions in town where he's going. And while the stereotype is "Bond goes in shooting and that's all he does, he's literally a shooting machine," he's actually really good at reconnaissance. --I don't know that it's ever been shown that he can be a charming conversationalist, but it's certainly implied, and if Dracula can appreciate dry wit he's definitely got that. --climb down a wall? James Bond laughs at your walls. James Bond does parkour. James Bond survives a 100-foot fall from a viaduct into a river. Even if he stumbles on his way down the wall he's going to survive. --this man has never turned down a gizmo or gadget in his life. He complains to Q when he "only" gets a gun that's bio-coded so only he can shoot it. He's taking that crucifix and he's immediately calling Q to find out if it can be made to explode. --"exploring where he's been told not to" is not only his job description, it's literally the entire plot of Spectre.

--shaving incident can literally happen the exact way it does in the book, he uses a straight razor. --I don't think we ever see him speak Romanian, but he is multilingual, so like, maybe. (He definitely speaks Italian and French, which might be helpful?) --he's used to working with a support team from a long distance. If he can figure out how to get a letter to Q, there is a gay little genius full of Millennial rage who's going to be raining hellfire and brimstone on the Maison de Drac. Speaking of which... --within days of Q and Bond meeting, they figure out how to decrypt a computer together. They don't need shorthand (although they probably both know Morse code). Bond can literally send him something in a code most people wouldn't even realize is a code and Q will be able to read it. --famously cannot force open a door until Q gets insufferable about it. Alas, that poor baby. --depending on where in the timeline you choose to set this, he might have an exploding wristwatch. AGAINST HIS FAVOR: --he's absolutely going to try to bang the Girlies.

--there are definitely at least two guns in his luggage and I strongly suspect that's definitely going to get Dracula's back hair up, in addition to which I'm not really sure how Bond would react to his guns suddenly being gone. --he's probably going to try something before the shovel attack, and I'm going to give 50/50 odds it's after he hears the baby dying. He might not be able to get to the Girlies right then, but he's definitely going to give it a go later (if he's not already dead). --if he doesn't have his guns he can theoretically still handle the wolves (he's pretty good at hand-to-hand combat), but we never see him have more than a two-on-one hand-to-hand fight. Basically if there are three wolves all at once he's probably fucked, unless he did in fact figure out how to make the crucifix explode (or you decide to be charitable and let him have the exploding wristwatch).

I think the question with the wolves is less if he can handle them and more if he thinks he can handle them, and if not, is he going to choose certain death over the possibility of being eaten alive by three beautiful women. And when I put it that way... I think he's choosing the Girlies. Bond has a great track record with getting femmes fatale to switch sides and help him. It's not going to work, of course (he's good but he's not that good) but it'll be what he tries. Which will keep him alive on the 29th but might get him killed (or at least slurped) on the 24th, since he's likely to roll for seduction rather than run away screaming and lock himself in his room.

But yeah, I feel like Bond has a lot of experience being held captive by Evil Foreign Counts, so he knows in principle how to convince the villain to keep him alive, or at the very least lock him into a death trap and then walk away. Which...is exactly what Dracula does in the novel, isn't it? #Bond Villain Stupidity.

We know Bond is skilled with cards. Maybe he and Dracula play Nintendo for two months. But he definitely won't take kindly to Dracula taking his suits. Q makes him pay for those things!

So yeah, if he can keep it in his veins, I think you've argued convincingly that James Bond can survive Castle Dracula, which must be a real relief to Daniel Craig after what happened last time.

#James Bond #Craig Bond #spies #action heroes

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neverinadream · 1 month

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True, But My Bed Is Closer

Summary: Christian struggles to find the right words when asking you to stay over for the first time.

Pairing: Christian Pulisic x Fem!Reader

Requested: Nope - but the idea comes from something @pulisicsgirl said yesterday 🫶🏻

Warnings: fluff, pre-established relationship, neighbour x neighbour, sommelier!reader, consumption of alcohol, talks of alcohol, i'm not a sommelier and far from ever being a wine expert so if something is wrong just ignore it, not edited, rushed ending

Notes: i don't know what this is and truth be told, i don't like the ending 🫣 anyway, hopefully you enjoy it. feedback is always appreciated and requests are open

"That can't be true."

"And I'm telling you it is," you reply, dropping your hands into your lap, "remember, which one of us is the expert here?"

Christian shakes his head, laughing light-heartedly as he reaches for the bottle of wine. The bottle was stained black, the type that came with a cork, and the label was printed in gold lettering. The company's logo stood out to him the most when he was trying to find the right bottle. It resembled a wax stamp, with a crest printed in the centre. He topped off both of your glasses, emptying the bottle of its very last drop, before passing you your glass.

"Cat pee?" He watches you take a sip, subtly glancing at your mouth as you lower your glass and lick your lips. "I don't believe you."

"Okay, maybe I've exaggerated a little, but-" A giggle bubbles in the back of your throat as you watch him playfully roll his eyes. "-but-! It did smell like cat piss." You take another sip, scrunching your nose as you remember the smell.

"And people liked it?"

You nod your head, cradling the glass between your hands. "It won awards."

"Do I even dare to ask how much a bottle of 'Le Cat Pee' costs?" Christian asks, draping his arm over the back of his couch, turning himself to face you. He kept his glass steady in his other hand, occasionally lifting it to take a sip.

"Not unless you want me to phone for an ambulance because you've gone into cardiac arrest." His eyes widen to the size of dinner plates, a droplet of wine dribbling down his chin as he takes a sip. You pretend you don't see it, hiding your smile behind your glass. "It's not the most expensive wine on our list though," you mumble, taking a quick sip, "we have bottles on that list that cost nearly a thousand euros, if not more, and there a people who are far too happy to pay for them. Sometimes I want to tell them they're stupid for buying bottles that expensive, but you know what they say, the customer is always right."

"Jeez," he blows out hot air and nods to the bottle at his side, "and I thought I was paying too much for that bottle."

You set your glass down on his coffee table, making sure to rest it carefully on the coaster and replace it with the empty bottle. You knew about the company that made it, even visited the vineyard where the grapes grew last summer, when you wanted to introduce more local wines to the list. You and Eva, a waitress with a bubbly personality who always wore bright pink lipstick, and aspired to be a sommelier, had spent the afternoon touring the vineyard with the owner's eldest son, Edoardo, quickly getting tipsy on samples of wine and giggling at Edoardo's terrible jokes.

It was a family-run business, spanning back multiple generations, making it perfect for a family-run restaurant. But the owner's oldest thought differently, putting an end to your idea before it could even be considered.

"The labels are all made by machines now," you say, sitting the bottle back down, "but, originally, they used to put actual wax stamps on the bottles."

He chuckles, running his thumb delicately over the curve of your shoulder, drifting up the base of your neck. "Of course, you know that."

"Sorry," you apologise, looking down at your lap, "sometimes I can't turn it off." You knew not everyone cared about the history of wine, no matter how fascinating you thought it to be.

"Don't." He dips, kissing your shoulder and then your neck, breathing in the sweet sugary scent of your perfume, before drawing back to look at you. There was a slight red tinge to your bottom lip from the red wine you had been drinking. He was itching to reach out and run his thumb against it, but settled for leaning his head against his hand instead. "I like it." You give him a shy smile. "You're too smart for the likes of me."

"Oh, I don't know," you shrug your shoulders, glancing up at him, "you're pretty smart too."

"I'm pretty," he cracks a joke, making you giggle, "but I don't know if I'm smart too."

"Seriously?" You snort. "I've been here two years, Christian, and I make a fool of myself every time I try to speak Italian. Just the other week, I think I offered a threesome to a man and his wife." You scrunch your face and groan, remembering it like it had happened yesterday.

Christian had to agree, laughing quietly under his breath. You had as much grace with the Italian language as an elephant did performing ballet.

"But you've been here, what, eight or nine months and it's already like your seventh spoken language."

"Fourth spoken language," he corrects, putting his glass aside to take your hand. He slips his fingers through yours, his chest swelling when you squeeze around them. "But who's even counting?"

He lifts your joined hands and kisses the back of your hand, his lips lingering against the warmth of your skin, before lowering them a second later. A chance encounter on the stairs seven months ago had led to what was probably the best four months of his life. And you couldn't agree more.

You never thought you find someone who you could trust after the messy relationship you had with your ex, James, but Christian had yet to prove he wasn't worthy of that trust. He listened to you when you talked, clung to every word you had to say, made you laugh, made you smile, but importantly he made you feel seen.

"Did you always know you wanted to be a sommelier?"

You shake your head. "No, I didn't even know it was a thing until I was like nineteen. I wanted to own and manage a hotel."

He looked surprised. "Seriously?"

You pull your joined hands onto your lap, using your free hand to trace lines on the back of his hand. "My dad was a concierge and, even though it wasn't allowed, he'd sometimes take me to work with him. To a six-year-old, that hotel lobby was like paradise."

He watched your eyes light up as you recounted the memories of dressing up in parts of an old uniform, standing next to your dad as he greeted guests. The sleeves were always too long for your arms and the hat kept falling into your eyes, but it never stopped you from trying to copy your dad. Growing up, all your friends wanted to be a pop star or an athlete, but you just wanted to be like your dad.

"I would make myself dizzy in the revolving doors, run up and down the giant staircase, terrorise the grouchy receptionist," you giggle, your smile softening as you spoke about your dad again, "But, when it was time to leave, my dad would pick me up onto his hip and he would always say, 'Bug, one day, I'll have a hotel much grander than this.'"

"Bug?"

Your face flushes and you present him with a smile. "Yes, Bug."

"So?" He lifted his head off his hand and stretched his arm back across the couch. "Did your dad get his hotel?"

He fakes a gasp. "My girlfriend is a dropout?"

"No," you shake your head, "he got ill, so he took early retirement instead; he and Mum have just finished their second cruise. He now wants to visit as many countries as he can, dragging my poor mother with him." You release his hand and reach forward for your glass, taking a sip. "So, anyway, I decided I'd go to uni, maybe try and get a degree in hotel management. But by the end of the first year, I realised I no longer shared the same dream as my dad."

"Your-?" You wipe your mouth, nearly spitting a mouthful of wine back into your glass. He had caught you off guard, calling you his girlfriend. "Uh, yes," you decide not to fuss over it, "your girlfriend is a dropout."

"So, let me guess," he shuffles closer, bumping his knee against yours, "you backpacked your way through Europe, where you fell madly in love with some guy you met in France - no, Amsterdam - who wore sandals and rode a bicycle?"

"Not even close," you giggle, taking another sip, thinking that would've been more fun than having to deal with George. "I moved back home, got a job in a restaurant and hoped I'd wake up one day knowing what I was meant to do."

You tell him about the first sommelier you had met, a tall, lanky fifty-something-year-old man, with thinning, white hair and a constant smell of whiskey on his breath. At best, he was a functioning alcoholic, who snuck quick swigs of whatever was open behind the bar when no one was looking. He slacked heavily on his duties, sometimes showing up to work halfway through the dinner service. And when he did show up, he snapped at the waiters for offering customers the wrong wines.

"One night, we were serving a brand new menu, just trialling out a few new dishes, and George never showed. He wasn't answering his phone and none of us had the time to go by his apartment, so I did the next best thing - I broke into his locker."

Christian tilted his head, stifling a laugh. "That was the next best thing?" He challenges you. "To break into someone's locker?"

"He kept his notebook in there," you explain, leaning over to set the glass back down, the last bits of wine swirling around the bottom, "except his handwriting was terrible, even worse than yours, and I had to guess most of the pairings. I did the best I could with what I had. The night was still a mess, and George got me fired for damaging his property, but I liked it." There it was again, Christian noted, as the same light from earlier twinkled in your eyes. "I liked slipping into the role of a sommelier, trying to bullshit the customers the best that I could. It was fun."

He slipped his arm around your waist and caught a glimpse of his watch, his chest sinking when he saw how late it was. "I'm glad you found your thing," he mumbles, pushing the sadness down. He brushed his lips gently against your hairline, humming as you leaned into him.

"So am I," you agree, not wanting to imagine your life without a hundred different bottles of wines all bouncing around your head.

You prided yourself on knowing the difference between a white wine from France and one from Italy. You liked being able to tell people about the grape that was used to make the wine they were drinking, even if they particularly didn't care. You knew red wine went best with a stake, that sparkling wine went best with fried seafood, and that champagne was once much lighter and pinkish in colour.

You were a nerd for all things wine related and you loved it.

You loved that it brought you to Milan and that Milan brought Christian to you.

Christian looks back at his watch, the soft ticking acting as a reminder that your time together was coming quickly to an end. Soon Christian would be leaving for Texas, taking him away from Milan for a week or so, and you would be leaving for a two-week stay in Inverness to help an old friend plan an event for some prestige wine society.

"It's getting late..."

"I know," you sigh, tipping your head back to look at him, "but I guess it's a good thing I only live across the hall." You stay rooted to your spot and Christian shows no signs of getting up. "Means I don't have far to travel," you whisper, drumming your fingers against your lap.

"True," he hums, settling his hand on top of yours, bringing your drumming fingers to a halt, "but my bed is closer."

Your mouth opened and closed, a broken hum and an, "oh," being all you could muster up.

"Shit-!" You watch as he scrunches his nose, the peeks of his cheeks quickly turning an embarrassing shade of pink. "I'm sorry," he groans over the giggle that slipped past your lips, your hand flying up to quickly catch it. "I swear that sounded a lot better in my head," he nervously laughs, turning to look at you, "I didn't mean to just blurt it out like that."

"It's okay," you nod your head, giving him a small smile, "and technically you are right; your bed is closer than my apartment."

He tries not to smile too much, playing it off as calmly as the fluttering in his chest would allow. "Yeah?" His voice cracks, but saves himself with a quick cough. "You sure? What if you find out I'm a terrible sleeper or that I snore too loudly?"

You shrug your shoulders and reach for the last of your wine. "Who's to say I won't be the one snoring loudly?"

He chuckles, picking up his glass and polishing off what remains, using his knuckle to wipe the corner of his mouth clean. "No, you don't look like a snorer," he says, resting his head back against his hand, "you look more like a talker. I'll probably wake up to you talking about wax stamps on wine bottles." You smile at him for remembering your silly little wine fact. "Do you want to open another bottle or...?"

You shake your head, feeling like you had hit your wine limit for the night. Any more and you might just consider turning this night into a night of firsts and not just a first.

"Then do you want to go to bed?" He asks, taking your glass and discarding it with his to the coffee table.

"I would love that."

Football Taglist: @thoseboysinblue @kickinganddriving @lizzypotter14 @brasiliangp @chilwellspulisic @notsoattractivearenti @swimmingismywholelife @lovelynikol16 @masonsrem @landoslover @in-my-body-bag @laurasstufff1 @mountchilly @spicysainz @kathb59 @emcv1427 @gagaslonina @afterpills @pulisicsgirl @ricciardhoe3

#christian pulisic #christian pulisic imagine #christian pulisic fluff #christian pulisic one shot #christian pulisic blurb #christian pulisic fanfic #christian pulisic fic #christian pulisic x reader #christian pulisic x you

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suniix · 11 months

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04 | miyamura x reader

synopsis | hori talks to miyamura and realizes where she stands. you can’t help but feel guilty because of a promise made long ago.

word count | 2k+

note | i don’t plan on making hori ‘the bad guy’ or have her bully the reader. yes she will be a little upset because miyamura doesn’t like her back but she won’t do anything to the reader. that trope (or wtv it’s called) is way too overused and i don’t like it 🧍‍♀️also i hate this chapter and i can’t wait to finish this series so i can rewrite and edit everything

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A week has passed since the first day of school and things are going smoother than you had initially expected.

Miyamura’s friends had adopted you into their group, though you felt closer to him than to anyone else. Even though they always included you, it felt as if there was a barrier between you and them. During lunch or group projects their conversations would flow naturally, so you’d never say a word unless someone spoke to you first, afraid that you’d make the conversation awkward. Usually it was Miyamura or Tooru who brought you into conversations.

It was to be expected though, it’s the last year of high school; friend groups had already been made and joining any would be a struggle. You were thankful for an easy way into a friend group and were prepared to face all the challenges thrown your way.

Things at home were going well too. You could definitely tell your grandma was happy to have company around the house and you were happy to be with her. You were especially happy about her cooking. Your parents never had time to cook or show you how to so you just stuck with eating out everyday. You also bought some decorations for your new room, which made you feel more comfortable.

As you slipped your shoes on you waved to your grandma goodbye and she reciprocated the action. “Have a good day at school dear.” She smiled.

You thanked her and stepped out of your home. Walking to and from school everyday has made you become familiar with the neighborhood. The first couple of times you almost got lost, but luckily you would find other students with the same uniform and you’d just follow them to school.

As soon as the school came into view your stomach growled. Shit.. I forgot to grab something for breakfast.. you patted your pocket and felt your wallet. Sighing in relief you pull it out and open it, seeing you had enough money to buy something.

Instead of walking straight into the school you take a turn for the school’s cafeteria, praying they were open. As you walked you enjoyed the school’s scenery. Despite being here for a week you haven’t gotten a chance to explore everywhere. Tooru only showed you your classroom and the school cafeteria.

As the doors to the cafeteria came up you let out a sigh of relief upon seeing an oval sign hanging from the door with big letters that read ‘open’. You pulled the door open and walked in, feeling cold air hit your cheeks.

The first thing you see is a familiar brown haired girl wearing a gray sweater with her back turned to you; it seemed like she didn’t hear you come in. You didn’t see anyone at the counter, but a vending machine was nearby. Browsing through the limited options you insert your money and press the buttons. Your snack falls and you fish it out from the bottom and slowly walk over to the girl.

“Hori?”

The girl turned to look at you and your suspicions were confirmed. Hori looks at you with mild surprise. “Oh! I didn’t expect to see you here so early.” She motions for you to sit in front of her and you do.

“Hey Hori! And yea, I keep forgetting to change my clock’s batteries so I wake up thinking I’m late but it’s actually super early. I can’t go back to sleep so might as well just head to school.”

Hori nods in understanding and takes a sip of her drink. She is sorta forgetful.. Hori notes.

An awkward silence calls upon the two of you. She awkwardly continues to drink her beverage while you eat your snack. Although you and Hori were part of the same group you never directly interacted with each other.

“So.. you and Miyamura know each other?”

“Mm?” You looked at her confused.

“Even though you just got here, you and Miyamura seem really close. Did you go to the same middle school?” She asks.

You notice how she avoids eye contact and slightly tightens her grip on her drink. Is she jealous?.. You ask yourself. That would explain her odd behavior around you.

“Not really. I ran into him the first day I moved here and he’s my neighbor, so I guess—”

“Wait! You guys are neighbors?” She slammed her drink down in surprise and you slightly jumped, startled by her random outburst.

“Yea? He lives in the apartment complex next to my grandma’s house.”

She hums and brings her drink back up to her lips, continuing to avoid eye contact. Shit, are they together? Does she think I’m trying to get in between them?.. You begin to slightly panic. You didn’t want to start any drama, you had barely been at this school for a week! Miyamura never mentioned anything about being in a relationship, at least nothing you can remember, and you never saw him acting lovey dovey with Hori.

“I’m sorry, are you and Miyamura in a relationship?” You ask timidly.

“What? No.. why are you asking?” She eyed you suspiciously.

“Ah, I just didn’t want you to think I was trying to take him from you. We only seem close because he was the first person I talked to, so I guess I just feel closer to him because of that.”

“Ah, I see.”

After that conversation the air seemed a little lighter. Hori no longer seemed as tense as she was before, but instead lost in thought. The two of you sat in a calm silence until the bell rang.

Hori stared at the sky while leaning on the balcony railing outside the classroom. Her thoughts take her back earlier to the conversation she had with you. Although you told her you didn’t know Miyamura that well, she felt there was something going on between the two of you, whether or not you were aware of it. She had questions, but she wasn’t sure you were the right person to ask. The door opened behind her, but she didn’t turn to look, already knowing who joined her outside.

“Are you feeling okay Hori?” Miyamura asked, walking up beside her.

He had noticed she seemed lost in thought all day, something had to be bugging her. He knew about her busy life outside of school, but normally she wouldn’t be this out of it.

“Do you like (Y/n)?”

Miyamura nearly choked on his spit at the sudden question, quickly turning to look at Hori. “Where did this come from?”

“I just feel like.. there’s something going on between the two of you.”

“Nothing is going on between us. It’s just that.. they’re someone that I used to know, someone I cared a lot for.”

Hori turns to look at him, slightly surprised. Although she suspected it she never thought he’d say it out loud. Hearing it made it feel real, like there was really a chance she’d lose him.

“It’s a long story, but.. when I was little, (Y/n) was the first person to walk up to me and become my friend. Then one day they told me their family was moving, but they made a promise to find me again. I doubt they remember me or the promise, but the fact they came back.. it feels nice.”

The look on Miyamura’s face was something she rarely saw. He seemed genuinely happy, hopeful even. The only time she saw him this happy was when they were together, alone. Now he has the exact same expression while talking about you and you’re not even here.

Hori turned away. “Why don’t you tell them?” She doesn’t know why she asked. Maybe she was curious, or maybe she still had hope he was moving on from you.

Miyamura shook his head, “I don’t want to pressure them into anything. If something happens, I want it to happen naturally and not just because they feel the need to fulfill a promise they made years ago.”

He turned to look over his shoulder, spotting you and Tooru laughing about something. Hori followed his stare and tried not to show how disappointed she was. She wasn’t disappointed at either of you, moreso the situation. You two had history, history that left such an impact on Miyamura he waited for years for a chance to see you again.

She could never compete with that.

“Alright, you have to finish the report as a group by the end of class, so start moving!”

Shit! Group work this early in the year? You quickly look around the room to see everyone partnering up with their friends. How well do I know Miyamura’s friends? Would it be weird if I just joined their group? They wouldn’t mind.. right?

A gentle tap on the shoulder broke you out of your thoughts. Turning to your left you see Miyamura smiling at you. “Can I be in your group?” He asks while holding back a laugh, though you don’t understand what’s so funny.

“Sure.” You smile.

The smile on Miyamura’s face remains as he brings his desk up to yours and soon the rest follow without any questions.

“Lend me a pen, Yoshikawa! You don’t need so many pens.”

“Don’t you dare take any of my pens!”

“Did anyone bring the material collections?” Hori asked, sighing when she noticed no one had them.

You watched the group work together while occasionally bickering about random things. Hori assigned everyone a part of the report while also keeping Yoshikawa and Tooru from fighting about pens.

While working you couldn’t help but bask in the atmosphere the group brought. It wasn’t suffocating and there wasn’t a need to keep the conversation going. The conversations they had were short and sweet and didn’t have you overthinking with what to respond with. You let go of your thoughts and let yourself get carried away in the light conversations, enjoying the laughter of the group.

After everything was complete Hori gathered everyone’s part of the report and stapled it together before handing it to the teacher. The five of you relaxed together, mindlessly talking about the newest trends and any new music.

You barely said a word, happy with just watching the group enjoy each other. As you watched the group laugh cheerfully you didn’t notice Miyamura had his eyes on you the whole time.

The end of the day came sooner than you expected.

The group assignment left you feeling a little more connected to the group. Your fears were proven untrue, the group had wordlessly included you in the group project and no conversations turned awkward after you spoke.

By the time you left school the sky was beginning to turn a slight orange. Miyamura walked by your side as the two of you walked towards his bakery, something he had begun to do occasionally after school. Oftentimes it was when he promised to bake you something.

You stare out the window of the bakery, watching as a group of middle schoolers walk past, laughing with each other. You’re lost in thought, not noticing Miyamura had taken a seat in front of you.

“What’s up?”

“What?” You turn away from the window to see Miyamura has his full attention on you.

“You look like you have something on your mind. Did something happen earlier?” He asks.

“Oh, no not really. It’s just that..” You hesitate, trying to figure out how to formulate your words.

Miyamura says nothing, waiting for you to collect yourself. The whole time his eyes are on you, a gentle smile on his lips. You can’t help but feel at ease around him.

“When I was little, there was this boy. I heard from other kids that he was a loner, so I befriended him. Not long after though I had to move and leave him behind. Every time I hang out with you guys I feel guilty, like I don’t deserve to be happy after I left him alone, you know?” You stare down at the table and fiddle with your fingers. You know Miyamura would disagree with you, but you were still scared.

Miyamura hums, processing what you just said. Part of him was happy, you remembered him! Well, you partially remembered him. If you truly remembered him you would’ve known he was that boy you befriended. Had he really changed so much to the point you didn’t recognize him?

The other part of him felt guilty. He didn’t want you to feel bad for leaving him behind, it wasn’t your fault. The past is in the past and you’re here now in the present with him. You found your way back to him and that’s all that matters.

“I don’t think he’d mind.”

You stop fidgeting with your fingers and look up at him. His eyes are still on you, unwavering. You knew he was right, but hearing him actually say it made you feel better.

“I’m sure he would’ve wanted you to make friends, and I’m sure that by now he’s found his own group of friends, so don’t feel guilty.”

His smile was contagious. You turned to look out the window and see the group of middle schoolers was long gone.

“Yea, I guess you’re right.”

thank you for reading till the end! :D

taglist | @swtstrwbrri @aizawa-hatake @nagiswifey1

#hori san to miyamura kun #horimiya #horimiya x reader #izumi miyamura #izumi miyamura x reader #miyamura x reader #[📝 sunni writes]

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royallyprincesslilly · 5 months

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Title: What We Did In The Dark {3}

Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Warning: Language, 18+ Mature Content, Angst, Small Time Jumps, Preggo Talk, Pregnancy Trope, Talk of Pregnancy Termination

Words: 6.4k

Summary: Neither of you planned any of it. You’d met by chance, and everything that happened after had to have been predestined. Now back to your own life, you find you have a special souvenir from your time in Mauritius and you have a tough decision to make.

As always, thank you for reading. I appreciate it!

As you enjoyed this, please, LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!!! ❤️❤️

***NOT Edited/Proofread***

***Interactive***

What We Did In The Dark {1}**** | What We Did In The Dark {2}* |

Chapter Three: Better An Ooops….

“Take it easy!”

You groaned as you dropped face first onto your couch and let yourself spread out across the cool white leather. After 3 days in the hospital, tens of tests, and plenty of round-the-clock vitamin treatments to get your body up to standard for your condition you were finally released with prescriptions and doctor's orders to take it easy for a few days. You’d planned to come home and jump on your laptop to finish some things up, but Villie decided to bring you in and make sure you were settled. You knew she’d done it for a reason, and it was to make sure you didn’t do what you wanted to.

“So what do you feel like for dinner?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Tough shit. You’re going to eat. Your doctors said you need to take it easy, eat 3 balanced meals a day, and keep your stress levels down. So they took care of breakfast and lunch, now we order dinner.”

Villie dropped a heavy hand across your ass making you shout into the cushions of the couch. You shifted onto your side and rolled into a ball.

“What about the Halal spot that is on Blauvelt?”

You groaned and at the thought of all that meat covered with white creamy sauce, your stomach churned like the agitator inside of a washing machine. It didn’t feel right at all. Because of it, a ball of nausea formed in your chest, but your stomach grumbled.

“See, you’re hungry,” Villie assumed.

However, that was not the case. The thought of Halal made your stomach swirl like the letter “S”.

“No Halal.”

“Burgers, Mexican, Caribbean?”

None of those sounded any better. Suddenly, Villie gasped.

“Oooh, what about that Cuban spot?”

You allowed that to simmer for a few moments and when your stomach didn’t react you slowly sat up. In your mind’s eye, you saw a towering plate of empanadas beside another plate filled with Cuban-style seafood paella and a bowl of black bean soup and tostones. You looked to Villie and found her smiling widely.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You pulled out your phone and went to your food ordering app then found the restaurant she meant. You spent the following 5 or so minutes adding everything your stomach told you that you needed and had to have or else you’d die. By the time you’d checked out, your total and quantity were insane for just two people but as far as you were concerned everything was a necessity.

While Villie waited for the order, you took a quick shower. Or it was meant to be quick. Whenever you swiped your decadently soaped-up exfoliating gloves across your abdomen you paused up and your mind wandered. There was an actual baby inside of you right now—two to be accurate. You were carrying the babies of a man you’d only slept with once, well multiple times over the span of 5ish hours. You didn’t know him and you sure as hell hadn’t planned for this to be the outcome of your wanton night of pleasure.

There were so many things on your mind, so many worries to add to the ones you already had. According to Dr. Olumici, you had already reached the cut-off point to ethically terminate with her and most other providers. However, you could find other physicians who would perform an early 2nd-trimester termination. Through your research in the hospital, you educated yourself on why it was too unethical and brought so much controversy. Once you understood you couldn’t fathom doing it.

With that answer, you also couldn’t fathom yourself carrying these babies or giving them a life. You weren’t exactly stable in your life or career. You’d only just begun the path and had so many other things planned to accomplish before the whole adding to the population of the world thing. That meant you had a predicament on your hands that now only had one resolution—adoption. Even that didn’t sit right with you. Could you go on living your life knowing you had a life somewhere else in the world living, a being that came from you, a being you wouldn’t know in any way?

So you spent the entire shower going back and forth over your options but that only sent you into an endless circle with resolutions that weren’t real ones because they posed more problems and raised more questions. By the time you came out of the shower and returned to the living room, Villie was lost in her phone with the food spread out across your coffee table.

“That was longer than usual.”

“Yeah, I smelled like a hospital, I needed to smell like me.”

Villie nodded then grabbed the bottle that was in the center of the table, “Did you know you can get alcohol delivered off of Dash?”

You snorted. Leave it to her to try. You took a seat on the floor beside her ready to dig in but her phone resting on the table caught your eye. It was the picture of the man who’d showed up at the hospital, the one you’d rear-ended.

“You found him on socials already?”

Villie glanced at her phone then scoffed. “It wasn’t hard. Take a guess who he’s connected to.”

You thought about it for a second but the smells wafting from the containers took your attention. You went through pulling off the tops of the food containers and moaning as each new smell filled the room.

“Oh my god, I didn’t realize how hungry I was until now.”

Without another word, you dug into the food filling your plate with a lot of everything. Once you were satisfied with the bites you had taken you glanced back at Villie who was wide-eyed.

“What?”

“Glad to see your appetite has come back.”

You nodded and continued stuffing your face. Over the last few days, though you hadn’t vomited, you felt small bouts of nausea that came and went and the look of most of the hospital food left you not wanting to eat much. You’d worried it was going to be a permanent thing, but those worries were put to rest now.

“So, guess who he’s connected to,” Villie broached again.

“I don’t know,” you said mouth full of food.

Villie grabbed her phone and slid across her screen then held it up to you. When you looked, Lewis Hamilton’s face filled her screen. You gasped forgetting your mouthful of food then immediately began choking from the few particles that went down the wrong pipe.

“Oh my god!”

Villie leaped to her knees, patted your back with one hand, and poured some of the dark liquid from the bottle into a glass before she handed it to you. As you brought it to your nose your stomach turned from the strong scent of alcohol. You put the glass back on the table and shook your head. Villie kissed her teeth and then hurried to the kitchen before she came back with a bottle of water. You took several gulps in between coughs trying your best to dislodge the food that was stuck in your windpipe.

After a few attempts, you took a deep breath and hung your head back.

“Are you all right?”

You nodded, wiping your eyes from the tears that had slipped out.

“Jesus. I know the man is fine, fine but get a grip,” Villie teased.

You scoffed then pressed your palms to your face.

“Wait. Eh-em, you’re telling me the man I ran into is connected to him?”

“Yep. His name is Miles Chamley-Watson. He is the BFF to Lewis Hamilton, like for real BFF shit. They go everywhere together.”

Your eyes were bugged as you pieced it together. How small was this fucking world? How was this even real? The more you thought about it you began to wonder if he was in Mauritius with him. If so, did he know who you were?

“Oh my god.”

“Right! Like we kind of hit it off. I’m not gonna say there was flirting but there was flirting.”

“So you’re interested in him?”

Villie smiled as she drank down the glass of rum she’d poured for you. “I might be. What do you think? Do you think I shouldn’t be?”

How were you supposed to answer that? If she pursued things and they ended up becoming a thing didn’t that mean eventually one way or another you and Lewis would interact with one another? If you did wouldn’t he find out about the babies? If he found out--. The thought paused as a bigger item zipped itself up the agenda. Would he even remember you? He was after all Lewis Hamilton. You were sure there was no shortage of women he spent his time with. Why would he remember you from one night and 5 hours?

“Y/N?”

“Uh—um, well--.”

You saw the hope in her eyes and knew you couldn’t minipulate this because of your situation. Sighing you took her hand. “Valenza, I saw something between y’all. I say go with it and enjoy yourself. Who knows this could be it.”

Villie screeched then began laughing like an erratic high schooler who’d just learned their crush liked them back. Smiling you went back to eating. As Villie talked about Miles for a few more minutes your mind was lost in its own world. This shit was getting even more complicated.

~~~~~~~

4 Weeks Later

Your eyes never left the front door of 4057 Lake Drive Blvd. You’d been sitting in your car for the last 3 hours obsessively staring at the door with one hand on your steering wheel while the other rested on the door handle. You’d had every intention of getting out of your car and going inside 2 hours ago. However, that didn’t work out. Every time you tried to force your feet to move they didn’t. Instead, you sat outside the women’s health center as the time clicked closer and closer to your appointment until that same time clicked further and further away from your appointment time.

Now you were a whole 2 hours past your appointment time with no progress on getting out of the car. As you sat here you went over every single option over and over and over. You interjected every variable, every single con to every single choice. However, with every con, you found yourself seeing just as many pros. Now it was impossible to tell what the right decision was.

Never in your life had you thought you’d consider termination let alone a 2nd trimester one, but you were finding out that in most decisions no one knows what they would do until they are in it. You didn’t think you’d have unprotected sex with a stranger in your life but when the moment came you were one hundred percent DTF (down to fuck).

You closed your eyes for probably the hundredth time and took several deep, slow breaths. On the fifth one, you held it and allowed your heartbeat to steadily slow until it beat low and evenly. It was a trick you’d done most of your life to calm yourself and think clearly. When everything fell away, including the sounds of traffic, the sounds of the city you loved, and even the drum of your engine, you were left with your heartbeat and the rustling of the palm leaves. It was then that you felt the butterfly fluttering sensations again.

When you’d first felt them a week ago you hadn’t known what they were, and it took a few days to recognize what they were. Every Google search confirmed it—fetal movements. That was when it all became real and right now sitting in front of the health center where a doctor was waiting to perform your termination that you were now 2 hours late for because you were panicking and waiting for a sign to show you the right path to take, did it really become real.

Your hands left their current positions, the steering wheel and the door handle, and drifted to your belly which was now ever so slightly poked out. As if the minuscule beings inside of you knew your hands were there the fluttering intensified, crippling you with emotion. You dropped your head onto the steering wheel and allowed yourself to cry for the first time.

What could have been mistaken for sad tears weren’t. They were tears of resolution, tears of understanding, tears of acceptance—of fear. This was your sign, your answer, your path, and you were scared shitless. So your tears flowed down your cheeks and dripped all over you soaking your top. Even then you didn’t stop, you let it all out even turning up the music to drown out the sounds of your sobs.

From this moment forward, your life would never be the same and from this moment forward, you would face whatever came your way on this path with one thought in mind—what was best for your babies. When your tears finally subsided you wrapped your arms around your midsection, hugging yourself and the lives within you, and took a deep breath.

“Okay. I didn’t expect you and I surely didn’t plan you, but I won’t get rid of you. I hope you don’t regret choosing me because you’re stuck with me, and I promise I will do everything to protect you from today onward. Be gentle and patient with me and we’ll learn together.”

As if your words were heard, the flutters returned making you smile. pressing your head back on the headrest you sighed and tried to formulate a plan. That was when your phone rang sending audio caller ID off.

Villie calling. Villie calling. Villie calling.

You scoffed. Even the universe knew the plan was to tell Villie because she was good at coming up with a plan that ensured you were the primary benefiter. Truthfully, you should have told her weeks ago but since your release from the hospital she’d been spending a lot of time with Miles. Though he lived in the UK, they were always on Facetime dates, they’d now met up in London 3 times and you were sure she knew what Miles Jr looked like.

You hadn’t wanted to make things weird between them or add any stress given the truths of your situation. You really had wanted to keep things separate. Now with you deciding to keep the babies and raise them, there was no way you could keep everything from her anymore. She was your best friend after all. Tapping the answer button, you buckled yourself in.

“Hey V.”

“Hey. Where are you?”

“Umm--,” you stretched as you pulled out of the parking lot of the medical center and onto Berman Street.

“Getting on the highway, what’s up?”

“I feel like shopping. Are you down?”

“Yeah, tell me where to meet you.”

The drive through South Beach was unlike any drive you’d done before. Over the last few weeks, you’d been tense and stressed out to the max. It was evident in the way you gripped the steering wheel and sat in your seat. Now you felt differently. You were more relaxed, and more centered but also more cautious. You found yourself stopping and allowing more women and children cross even if they didn’t have the right of way, found yourself driving slightly below the speed limit and following every single traffic law that was in the driver’s manual that you’d neglected mere weeks before.

By the time you parked and fed your meter, you were 10 minutes late and intensely craving a massive green smoothie. After getting not one but two, you found Villie already well into her shopping in one of the lingerie stores.

“What took you so long?”

“Traffic and I needed a smoothie. So for you, shopping starts with lingerie.”

“Of course.”

You chuckled then began going through the racks. There were tons of cute stuff, but you knew soon you wouldn’t fit any of it and you had no one to wear any of this for. With that thought you looked at Villie.

“Valenza Tamina Chord, are you stocking up for a particular event?”

She smiled widely then walked off.

“No, no. Don’t try to slip away. What’s going on?”

“Miles is coming to town in a few weeks for a week and--.”

“You plan on getting your back broke, throat bruised, and internal organs rearranged. Okay!”

Villie giggled as she took down a navy blue strappy number that would look great on her and examined it.

“Okay I don’t know about throat bruised but the rest of it yep.”

You snorted and shook your head. “First of all, get that, it’ll look phenomenal on you. Second, let’s see if you have a voice when he comes.”

“Oh my god, Y/N, he is so cool, such a good guy.”

“He seems like it. I’m glad you’re having fun you deserve it.”

Villie’s eyes landed on you and for a few moments she studied you. “I’m not the only one who deserves it, you do too.”

You nodded and walked away to another rack and idly went through the hangers.

“I mean it. You’ve been single for long enough don’t you think?”

“I have a lot going on Villie. I don’t need another thing to worry about.”

“I understand what you mean but sometimes if it’s the right thing it doesn’t become a worry but something to bring you happiness, and peace.”

You sighed the words at the tip of your tongue but with no way to come out. This wasn’t something you could blurt out and be done with. You knew Villie, she would want to dissect everything on top of wanting a play-by-play of your dick down. This conversation couldn’t be had in the middle of a lingerie store.

“When do we meet the creative director of the station?”

“Boo! Always changing the subject. Fine, whatever. Next week is the meeting. Their name is Sadie Walters and she sent over some ideas for her vision along with some papers to understand your vision. So you got some homework.”

“Okay. I’m excited to get this off the ground and get back to traveling.”

“Workaholic. One day you will regret working so much and pushing your personal life to the side.”

You turned your back and quietly scoffed. If she only knew how little time you would have for a personal life in the next few years she’d take that back. For the next several hours you dipped in and out of almost every store adding bags and bags of clothes, shoes, makeup, and body products until you both were exhausted. After you had dinner at a nearby steakhouse where again you ate nearly everything in sight. When you both split at the end of the night you attempted to get the words out but still you couldn’t. You weren’t quite ready, and you worried you would be really showing before you were ever ready.

~~~~~~

-2 Weeks Later-

Pop!

The champagne bottle top flew across the room colliding into the wall, making everyone cheer and clap. After so many weeks of work with finishing up your catalog, the vacation wear line, and getting the behind-the-scenes stuff of your travel show down everything was signed, sealed, and done. Tomorrow was the release of your catalog and vacation wear line, and you were absolutely freaking out.

“Oh my god. Thank you everyone!”

You went around your office and hugged each and every one of the people who helped you get here. You wrapped your arms around Zavier and squeezed.

“Thank you Z, you made this catalog incredible. I cannot thank you enough!”

“Congratulations. You’re more than welcome.”

Next, you moved on to Sabrina and Chloe, the interns who’d been hired to maintain some of the back-end things. “Thank you beautiful souls.”

“You’re welcome!”

When you moved to Villie she rocked you side to side. That was when the waterworks started.

“Oh Villie, thank you, thank you!”

“Shut up. I don’t need thank yous. I am so happy for you. It’ll be no time now before you are bigger than Anthony Zimmerman.”

“Girl, we are not alike. He travels to eat everything; I travel to party.”

Everyone laughed at that. When Villie handed you a glass of champagne you froze.

“We have to drink to you and all that you’ve accomplished and to this amazing team of ours,” Villie said holding her glass up.

Everyone followed her and tapped their glasses together. You brought the glass to your lips, but you didn’t take a sip as they all did.

“Thank you guys so much for all your hard work and dedication to these projects. It means the world to me.”

You hoped they understood how much they meant to you though you couldn’t fully express it because if you did, you knew you would cry uncontrollably which would be weird. You were having a hard time keeping your emotions under control over the last two weeks as your pregnancy progressed. You saw a dandelion blow away from a hard gust of wind earlier and that made you cry for the poor dandelion that would never be seen again. With that, you knew your emotional state was highly unbalanced.

When the bottle of champagne disappeared, everyone started to file out to get on with their own days leaving you and Villie. You scrolled through the virtual catalog in complete awe. You couldn’t believe that after so many months it was over and would be out for the world to see. The pride you felt was indescribable. You’d accomplished this without using anyone's clout, or influence to elevate it. You didn’t have any major help, most of it was compiled by you using your skills and talents. It wasn’t until near the end had you brought on more expertise. This was your baby.

“I can’t believe this is done, V.”

She doesn’t reply. When you felt her approach, she pulled up a chair beside you then sighed. “I can’t believe you haven’t told me what’s been going on with you since you were released from the hospital.”

You paused and fought the rapid beating of your heart because you knew she would hear it in the quiet office. “Uh--.”

“I’ll give you a few moments to come up with what you are going to say to come clean with me but the words out of your mouth better be the truth. I’ve let you go for all this time but right now I’m getting offended and hurt that you don’t feel like you can talk to me.”

You spun to her and grabbed her hands. “No, no. Villie, that’s not it I swear!”

“No? Then what else could it be, Y/N?”

You sighed then found your words. Gripping her hands tighter you looked at her. “Okay look. I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t know how and honestly I didn’t know until a few weeks ago and since then I have been a mess trying to wrap my head around it and future my shit out. It’s a lot happening.”

“Are you sick? Please don’t tell me you have cancer.”

“What? No! I don’t. I’m not sick.”

Villie let out a relieved huff of breath then took a steadying one. “Then what? What is going on?”

“I’m—I’m—pregnant.”

Villie just stared at you with a blank expression. She didn’t move, she didn’t even look as if she were breathing. Leaning forward you studied her closer trying to gauge just what she was thinking. Biting your bottom lip you prepared yourself to repeat the words but just as you opened your mouth to, Villie sprang to her feet.

“What! P—pr—pregnant?”

She walked to the far side of the office. “I know you fucking lying.”

“Uh--.”

“No. It’s a lie. There is no way. How did you get pregnant? When?”

You understood her reaction. You hadn’t told her about your night with Lewis because you didn’t want to be one of those girls who bragged about spending the night with a celebrity and you honestly were kind of embarrassed by everything that happened that night. You’d turned into a completely different person and when the sun rose, and you’d found your limbs entangled with his and your very naked bodies still connected under the massive palm tree that was tucked out of sight you’d felt stupid and easy so you ran as fast as you could without looking back. As far as she knew you’d been in a sex drought for 2 years.

“Y/N!”

“Calm down. I should be the one freaking out. I’m the pregnant one.”

Villie’s eyes widened.

“I’m not lying. I am pregnant. I found out at the hospital after the accident and that’s what’s been going on for the last few weeks. I was trying to wrap my head around it all and figure out what I wanted to do about it. Because of everything that I have going on I didn’t think I could continue this, so it’s been a stressful few weeks,” you rushed out.

Ville was still standing across the room and now looking at you like you had two heads. “You’re not fucking with me?”

“I’m not fucking with you. I promise.”

Instantly Villie crossed the room to you taking you into her arms and hugging the life out of you. “Oh, honey.”

With your best friend comforting you, your tears began flowing. When she heard your sniffles she pulled back and pouted. “You’re really pregnant?”

Nodding, you sniffled some more. Villie’s tear-filled eyes overflowed and the two of you hugged again and ugly cried together. Relief filled you as you relished the comfort of the one person who's had your back for over a decade. You weren’t alone with this anymore. You knew without a doubt that Villie would have your back the entire way.

When the two of you sat back down, you both wiped your tears and snot and laughed at each other for being so emotional about it.

“Oh my god, Y/N.”

“I know.”

“Oh my god,” Villie repeated.

“I know, I know. It’s huge.”

“Huge? This is—colossal. You’re pregnant.”

You nodded, “I am.”

“You’re pregnant with a baby, like a real baby.”

“Ha, try two babies. Two real babies.”

Villie shot to her feet again.

“Shut the fuck up!”

“Girl I nearly passed out when I found out.”

Villie screeched then and practically tackled you with another hug. “Twins! Aah, Y/N, how precious is that?!”

You snorted. Of course she would be the one to die over the cuteness of it all. Villie dropped back into the seat, then reached for your belly. When she realized it was not flat her eyes became the size of the moon.

“Holy fucking shit, Y/N. This feels so real.”

“Oh it’s real. It’s so real I have had to sideline 3 of my favorite pairs of jeans already and I’m not even halfway there yet.”

“So you’re keeping them, right? You better be keeping them.”

“I’m keeping them. I couldn’t do the procedure. It didn’t feel right in my heart.”

Villie nodded. “I get that. It’s different to hold my hand through mine than be the one in the stirrups getting your own. It’s a decision every woman has to make for herself.”

A few moments of silence stretched as both of you thought back to when Villie ended up pregnant barely one year into law school. Her then asshole boyfriend freaked and went as far as to transfer schools just to get away from the whole thing. After hours of tears, weeks of lamenting, and one in-depth heart to heart she decided it was best to terminate. So, you held her hand through the whole thing and per her request, the two of you never spoke of it again.

Squeezing her hand for comfort, you continued, “It was simply too late for me to have a clear conscious about it. Then I got a sign showing me what to do and—yeah, here we are.”

Villie squeezed your hand again. “Well, I am happy for you honey. You are going to be an amazing mom.”

You groaned. “Mom. V, this is insane. The show, the catalog, the line, all the traveling I’m going to be doing, the chaos of filming. I can’t do this, right?”

“Of course you can do this. You’re not going to be alone doing it either. I will be here. I will be with you for every single thing, ultrasounds, Lamaze, nursery planning, hospital bag packing, birth, and every day after. You’re not alone and you can do this,” she assured in her attorney voice.

Slowly you nodded as her words sank in filling you with confidence. Suddenly Villie gasped.

“Hold up. When did this happen? Who!?”

You let her hand go, stood, and grabbed your stuff.

“Let’s go to my place.”

Villie looked cautiously at you. “Oh god, is it Zavier?”

“What! Hell no.”

“What do you mean hell no? Zavier is fine as hell. You have seen his abs right and his tight ass?”

“Oh my god V, stop sexualizing Z.”

“I’m not. I’m just asking if you have seen his abs and his ass.”

“Yes, I have seen them and yes they are great.”

“Not to mention he is crushing so hard on you, has been for like a year now.”

“Shut up, he hasn’t.”

Villie rolled her eyes as she walked out the door first. “Oblivious fool. Can’t stand you bitches who don’t notice when you have men wrapped around your finger. until it's too late”

You snorted, “Who you calling a fool?”

The bickering continued as you made your way to your cars. When you separated to drive there separately, you made a quick stop at the Cuban spot near your house and once again picked up enough food for an army. When you got home Villie was already waiting for you. She helped you line out the food on the coffee table and get drinks ready, then you dug in. Halfway through eating Villie turned to you to press further.

“I know you’ve been stalling. Spill it already. Is he some struggling cartel clown who thinks he's next in line but is still the errand boy?”

“God no.”

“One of these struggling Miami rappers who swear they got bars but really don't understand the meaning of the word?”

You chuckled. “No.”

“Oh, a struggling underwear model who--.”

“Why do they all have to be struggling?”

“Because you’re stalling which means you’re either embarrassed of him or you regret letting him hit and most likely it’s because you’re ashamed of who he is.”

“I’m not—embarrassed or ashamed of him per se.”

“Okay if not who, then tell me when. When did this happen?”

“Mauritius.”

Her eyes widened again.

“Holy shit, did you Stella Got Her Groove Back on some hot barely legal island bway and brought back your very own Mauritian souvenirs.”

You busted out laughing sending food out of your mouth and onto the floor beside you.

“Wait, wait, wait. Barely legal isn’t my thing and since when have I been out of commission long enough to Stella Got Her Groove Back on anyone?!”

“It’s been 2 years, Y/N. You’re honeytrap was growing cobwebs.”

You laughed loudly again loving the feeling. It had been too long since you’d laughed like this.

“First of all. Fuck you!”

Villie laughed along with you.

“No, it’s who fucked you?”

You hugged her and rocked from side to side.

“Oh I love you Villie.”

“Love you too honey. That doesn’t mean I am letting this go. Tell me already.”

“Fine. Lewis Hamilton.”

Villie gave you a “yeah right” look then busted out laughing. She laughed so long that it gave you more time to keep eating. Slowly she realized you weren’t laughing with her and slowly she stopped.

“I didn’t mean lie to my face.”

“Who’s lying?”

Villie stared at you for a few moments then you watched every cell in her body light up until her face was bright and her eyes wide. That’s when it happened. She screamed. You nodded your head because it was either this reaction you’d expected or the complete disbelief. You’d gotten them both.

“No fucking way!”

“Oh yes fucking way.”

“You had sex with Lewis Hamilton in Mauritius? Oh ho ho, details. I need every single piece of information starting with who said the first word to whom, moving on to are his hands as big as they seem, then what he smells like, then can he kiss, then not skipping any minuscule detail like boxers or briefs, circumcised or not and finally how big and can he lay pipe.”

She screeched again, grabbed her bottle of beer, turned to you then cleared her throat. “Okay, begin.”

She was an absolute trip. You spent the few hours going over every detail of that night that you dared to with Villie. You even let her know how free you’d been with yourself and all the things you’d let him do to you, all the ways you’d let him have you and claim your body. With every piece of info, Villie looked like she was near an aneurysm. When you told her how you’d let him into your back door she lost her shit. She screamed so loud you were sure your neighbors would call the police thinking foul play was afoot.

By the time you finished, Villie was laid out on her back with a dazed look on her face staring at the ceiling as if she had been the one who’d gone through probably the best night of fucking ever recorded by man or woman. You gave her a few minutes to recover and let it all sink in and used the time to finish off the food.

“Oh my god, Y/N.”

Villie sat up panting, her hair a mess.

“Are you good?”

“Am I? Are you? All of that went down?”

“All of that went down. I got back to my hotel room and didn’t recognize myself in the mirror.”

“You a freak, freak, freak!”

Both of you laughed some more.

“I can’t believe you.”

“I know. Mauritian rum is no fucking joke.”

“No. I can’t believe you left him there naked in the sand. Why!?”

“What? Why? You’re joking. I couldn’t stay.”

“Why?”

“Because it was over, it was one night and—I—I,” you sighed. “I was embarrassed. I felt like a fool.”

“You were embarrassed to have slept with Lewis Hamilton?”

“Partly. You’ve heard the rumors about him, heard the stories of him having a harem and contractual relationships that center around sex and extravagance, and here I went and fell for him.”

“Wait, fell for him, fell for him?”

You sighed and thought back to your conversation and the vibe between you.

“I don’t know. I’d had a lot to drink that night and was on a high after that folk dance with the island’s natives and there was something when our eyes met through the flames of the fire. There was something that made me fall enough to let all that go down.”

“Do you like him?”

“I don’t know him. I don’t know I felt like I became this whole other person that I have never been before but it didn’t feel like a mask or me pretending and it makes me wonder why did it come out with him and not anyone else?”

Villie nodded. “So instead of finding out why by staying till he woke up, you ran away and brought back 2 souvenirs with his DNA that you now have to find a way to tell him about.”

“Tell him? Why would I tell him?”

Villie looked at you with incredulity. “You’re joking.” She stared at you longer then scoffed when she realized you weren’t. “No, Y/N, you have to tell him. Don’t you think he deserves to know he will have 2 children running around with his DNA?”

“---No.”

“Y/N--.”

“Okay wait. I can see how you would say yes and well—maybe—yes. Fuck. How do I tell him this Villie? Do I just DM him on Insta and be like hey remember me? He probably won’t if the stories are true he’s had nights like this plenty of times. What do I say?”

“Who cares about the stories, the rumors, and any of that other noise. Right now you are pregnant and you’ve decided to keep the babies—his babies. You have to tell him and let him figure out if he remembers you, and decide what he plans on doing. Whatever he decides won’t affect you. If he decides to man up great then you figure it out. If he decides to deny, deny, deny then fine, move on.”

You heard her words. They made plenty of sense, but you were still apprehensive. You didn’t want to be perceived as that girl. The one who showed up with a pregnancy from one night or a situationship where terms were clear.

“This is messy, Villie.”

“It is but what isn't messy these days? Oh my god, Miles.”

You looked at her as she finally thought about her connection to all of this.

“He’s his bestie right, and now your boo thang.”

Villie smiled at those words then scoffed. “The world is so fucking small.”

“Tell me about it,” you replied.

The two of you sat quietly for a few moments both in your own heads about your situation.

“Well, you have an in to talk to him when you’re ready to tell him about the pregnancy.”

“What in? Miles?”

“Yeah. We’ll tell him and ask if he can get you a face-to-face.”

“Face to face? Villie.”

“Is this the kind of news you really want to send over socials, text messages, or word of mouth?”

You hated when she was right.

“Also from a legal standpoint, if you kept this from him now and he somehow found out years down the line, he could file a lawsuit against you and seek damages.”

“From little ol' me?”

“If he was feeling really butt hurt, that’s the minimum of what he could do legally,” Villie confirmed.

You sighed then dropped back onto the floor. Your hands instantly went to your stomach and you felt your slight bump. This shit was messy and had the potential to get even messier. Villie was right though, you did have to tell him, it was the right thing to do.

Looking at it from a different angle, it was better to say "Hi remember me, oops I’m pregnant" than not and wonder what if.

You closed your eyes and groaned. Your life had turned upside down in the span of a few months and once again it was all because of the things you’d done in the dark.

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

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