#wine bottle totes

[ecosixpackrings]

6 Pack Wine Tote Bag

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[mrsmarlasinger]

Slowly turning everything I own pale pink

[julieschulerart]

Wine Bottle Tote Bag.

[everymanpdf]

AND it’s Valentine’s Day. a certified hat trick of epic things

[peacelovefrog]

[sixpackringsmumm]

Stylish Six Bottle Wine Tote – Mumm Products

Securely carry up to six bottles with this sleek black bottles Wine Tote, featuring a decorative wine design. Durable, reusable, and eco-friendly, it’s perfect for any occasion. Available for bulk orders with a minimum of 12. For smaller needs, explore our Two Bottle Wine Bags. Available exclusively from Mumm Products.

[rebeccccccaaa]

Poker Face!

_______________

Spencer Reid x Reader

:: It’s game night at Rossi’s, a little pasta al dente, poker chips from Emily’s place, and a little too much Italian red wine. Poker after hours becomes a new playing field when you and Spencer decide to finish your game of blackjack back in his place. ::

:: warnings :: smuttt! and super mushy gushy fluff, sex under the influence (both parties drank alcohol), strip poker (kinda you’re playing blackjack), afab!reader, no mention of contraceptives oops...

:: authors’ notes :: i didn’t realize until i finished the story that spencer probably has his own poker set, he’s literally from vegas; anyway thanks for all the love on my last fic too sweet, hope you guys enjoy this one just as much <3

WC~ 3.1 k

________________

“Ok, ok! That’s enough!” Emily shouted, swinging her glass around. 

“Careful, Prentiss. This carpet is fine Italian wool. Gifted from my first mother-in-law,” Rossi scolded, Hotch chuckling beside him. 

“You guys are relentless,” she continued.

“I can beat him, I know it!” you shouted, your eyes comically wide. 

“No shot, sweetheart. Reid is literally banned from every casino in Vegas, you think you can really beat him?” Derek commented.

“I may not be banned from Vegas casinos, but I never lose Blackjack,” you argued.

“Honey, you’ve lost eight games in a row!” JJ shouted, laughing and holding her stomach. 

“Nevermind that! I’m gonna beat you Reid, if it's the last thing I do,” you narrowed your eyes playfully at Spencer, who sat as dealer with a giant grin on his face.

“I hate to interrupt this incredibly captivating game of Blackjack, but I’m kicking you out. It's late and an old man’s got to get some rest,” Rossi interrupted, erupting a series of ‘Boo’s’ and groans. 

“Come on, come on. Call your DD’s, call your taxi cabs. Or if you want to stay, you can start washing the dishes,” he bargained. 

Suddenly, all at once, everyone stood up practically scrambling and giggling like kids to avoid cleaning up. Penelope, Emily, and Derek hopped into a cab and Hotch drove JJ home then himself considering he hadn't anything to drink that night. That left you and Spencer, lingering on the sidewalk nudging each other in a fit of giggles. 

“I assume you’re gonna take a cab?” he asked you.

“That’s the plan.”

“So we can share since I don’t live far from you. I’ll walk from your place,” he suggested. 

“Oh no, no. Look what I snatched when everyone started leaving,” you pulled out the briefcase of poker chips that Emily had brought for that night out of your tote, “We’re going to your place and finishing what we started.” 

“Oh boy, you have no idea how long it's gonna take. We’re gonna be up all night!” Spencer laughed, and you gasped. 

“You’re an asshole,” you shoved him, before calling a taxi.

You squeezed in the back of the cab, legs bumping against each other. You felt your skin light up, you’ve always felt a certain way about Spencer. I mean who wouldn’t? Well actually, not a lot of people. You always tried to hide the pangs of jealousy or your faces of reluctance whenever the women you were working with or interviewed on cases would flirt with him, unnecessarily albeit. This happened more often than you care to admit or notice. 

You walked into Spencer’s apartment, tossing your bag on the couch before falling to your knees and putting the briefcase on his coffee table. You opened it up and began shuffling the cards, quite intensely to make sure Spencer wasn’t going to cheat. You knew he wasn’t, his brain was too smart, but you did it for confidence instead. 

“Do you want anything to drink?” he asked from the kitchen.

“Whatcha you got?” you asked.

“I’ve got a couple of beers, probably a little old. Oh, I still have the bottle of wine that Rossi gave to us for the new year,” he told you.

“Oh! Bring the wine! We’ll drink the beers later,” you winked at him, “Let’s get the fucking party started.”

It was late into the night now. You lost count how many times you’d lost to Spencer already. Just a couple of hours passed, and the wine was almost finished. You and Spencer couldn’t stop laughing and wiggling around. As Spencer shuffled the deck, a request you made him do after every turn, you came up with a devilish idea. One that would definitely get you in trouble should the outcome be anything other than what you would hope. 

“Ooh,” you cooed, mischievously.

“What?” Spencer questioned.

“Oh, nothing, just had an idea,” you were smirking, or rather trying really hard not to burst into laughter. 

“This can’t be good,” he mumbled, shaking his head. 

“Why don’t we spice things up, shall we?”

“No, no way,” Spencer already knew what you were going to say. 

“Strip Poker!” 

“No!” he shouted, a big smile on his face contradicting his words.

“What, you scared? Scared that suddenly I’m starting to beat you and you’re gonna have to take all your clothes off?” you teased.

“No, I am a gentleman and I’m not gonna sit through watching you take all your clothes to prove a point,” he argued sassily.

“You are way too confident for your own good, Dr. Spencer Reid. You’re just chicken.”

“Ok, fine then. You dealer, or am I?” he asked, pouring the last bit of wine into your cup. 

“Why don’t you hit me this time,” you said. 

“You got it,” he responded, “Care to shuffle while I grab the beers?”

“Of course. About time we crack those open,” you smiled widely. 

Now sitting down, face to face. Staring intensely at each other for a moment, hints of mischief and amusement in both your eyes. As you shuffled the cards well, Spencer couldn’t help notice the way your eyes were practically sparkling in the warm light of his apartment. How soft your skin looked in the light too. He doesn’t know when it happened. If it happened just now, or maybe he’s always felt this way about you. 

Maybe it was those times where he felt a little more protective over you than the others on more brutal cases. The feeling of responsibility for you, to guide you, when you first join the team since you were the same age. Or maybe it was when you let him practically talk your ear off about peculiar facts regarding the case you had wrapped up. The small smile of your face knowing he thrived in these moments. The sweet giggle you let out when Morgan and Prentiss groaned knowing he would begin yet another tangent. 

Yeah, it was definitely then he realized how special you were and how much he wanted to keep you in his life; in more ways than one.

But in this moment, when you handed him the cards with the most devilish smirk on your face, Spencer felt a wave of avidity, longing for you more than he ever has before. He felt so conflicted about the game you were about to play. He respected you so much and yet craved to see you, to have you, in this very way for so long already. He didn’t know what to do. He dealt the cards however, entertaining the idea, and you tapped the table for cards before taking a big swig of your beer.

“Fuck,” you muttered under your breath, Spencer’s breath hitched. 

You took off your earrings first and Spencer quirked an eyebrow. 

“What? Were you expecting me to take off my shirt right away?”

“No,” he shrugged before giving you the deck to shuffle again. 

“I swear to-” you cursed, pulling off one of your rings this time.

Your shoes came off, then your socks. All your accessories were scattered on the table before you. The last game you stood up unbuttoning your pants. Spencer clenched his jaw, averting his eyes downward as you peeled your pants down your legs. It took quite literally everything in him to not drool over you. You sank back down to the ground, the bottom half of your body shielded by the table and Spencer looked back at you again. He dealt the cards. You asked for a card, and Spencer knew then you would lose. The probability was certain. When he hit Blackjack and you didn’t, Spencer gulped and you sighed in defeat. 

Staring boldly at Spencer, you disrobed your last garment that would give you some kind of modesty. Your bra is on full display with nothing else but your pair of underwear. You had a crucial decision to make if you ended up losing again and you were seriously considering that would be the case, the butterflies erupting violently in your belly. 

“We don’t have to keep going,” Spencer cleared his throat.

“And why would I do that?” Maybe it was the alcohol in your system that gave you this sudden courage, this seduction. You were starting to have fun seeing Spencer squirming on the couch, the bobbing of his Adam’s apple. You suddenly wanted to egg this round on as long as you can. 

“Ok, then,” he muttered, as he dealt the cards, slowly this time.

Spencer had a face down card, assuming it was a value of ten like always, and an eight. You had a seven and a three, you were fucked. You needed an ace and you’d hit blackjack, or you could build up; but that’s risky. Maybe Spencer can go over. You had a chance, you know it. Your chest was moving fast and shallow, but your face was stoic and firm. Spencer on the other hand was antsy; his eyes frantic and his leg bouncing. You knew he was staring at your chest. You planned to use it to your advantage. Was it fair game? Yeah, yeah it was. It wasn’t your fault he was distracted.

“Hit me,” you egged.

“You got it,” he responded. 

A five. Fuck. 

Spencer hit himself and he drew a seven. Those are bad cards. He most likely went over and you might actually finally beat him. 

“One more time, boy wonder,” you snapped. A six. A beautiful six of hearts. 

“I stand,” he mutters, probably knowing he lost. 

“Let’s see those cards, baby,” you teased.

“You first,” he told you, and placed your cards. 

“Blackjack, baby!” 

Spencer laid his cards revealing his seven and eight and underneath a nine, he busted; the cards of course. You won, you finally won. You jumped up in celebration, prancing in your undergarments around the room giggling and cheering. 

“I did it! I fucking did it! I beat the boy genius, fair and fucking square! You lose Spencer, loser!” you shouted taunting him and he couldn’t help the smile painted in his blushing face; he almost forgot you were prancing around almost naked in the middle of his apartment. 

“I- I was distracted,” he shuttered. 

“Damn right you were,” you joked, squeezing your breasts to flaunt them in his face. 

“It wasn’t fair game,” he bantered.

“It wasn’t fair game, my ass. I won and you lost, and you’re being a sore loser,” you mocked as you walked towards him like a panther, playfulness and seduction dripping from your tongue. 

Spencer took the moment you walked near and grabbed your wrist yanking you to stumble into his lap. You were shocked, surprised, a little turned on. You held onto his shoulders, your breathing a little quicker than before. You tried to convince yourself it was from the celebratory dance and not the growing bulge from Spencer that poked you from beneath. 

“I told you, I was distracted,” he told you, his hands finding a place at their hips. Fingers caressing delicately the hem of your underwear. 

“Blah, blah,” you whispered.

“Don’t give me that.”

“Now, Spence, I believe there is something you have to do, is there not?” you whispered.

“What’s that?” he bantered.

“You lost.”

“Right, unfairly I might add,” he joked.

“If all you’re gonna do is talk, then let me do the honors,” you told him. 

“Be my guest.”

Your fingers pulled gently at his tie he wore, pulling over his head and tossing it to the side on the floor. You started unbuttoning his shirt, Spencer staring with heavy eyes at you as you did so.

“I thought we were only taking off one item. We should play another round then if you want my shirt off,” he teased you, bringing his hands to gently hold your wrists.

“Like that’s gonna happen,” you rolled your eyes playfully. 

Spencer relaxed against the back of the couch as you unbutton his shirt all the way. You brought your lips down to kiss softly at his collarbones and his shoulder. Moving along his chest to kiss the other side. His hands moved slowly against your hips, fingers sliding between the fabric of your underwear and your skin. Your skin erupted in chills, a tingle running through your spine making your ears feel hot. You dragged your nose along his strong jawline before nipping your teeth playfully against his cheek. 

He brought his hands up, fingertips tracing your spine until he reached your bra. He skillfully unhooked it leaving you a bit breathless for just a second but a second too long. You could feel it, without even needing to look at him, to know he had such a teasing smile on his gorgeous face. You wanted nothing more than to kiss it off him. 

You shrugged your bra off, tossing behind him giving him a playful wink which made him chuckle. You brought his hands to your breasts as you pulled his head towards you by the back of his neck to kiss him feverishly. Something you both had wanted to do for quite some time now. You wiggled your hips a bit, feeling the prodding against your center, which made Spencer groan lowly in the kiss; his hands squeezing your breasts hard in discomfort. 

“Fuck, you’re gonna drive me insane,” he told you.

“Let me say hi to your little friend, Spence. Or do you want to play for that too?” you taunted him.

“God, no. I couldn’t wait a whole other hour for you to beat me again,” he bantered making you scoff and roll your eyes; his hands shot straight to his zipper to pull his pants down just enough for the both of you. 

You were practically itching to get your panties off. Standing up suddenly, both you and Spencer reached instinctively to pull them off you, his lips attaching themselves to your soft belly and hips. He freed himself from the constricting fabric of his pants and pulled you down, or rather yanked you to him. You couldn’t help the bubbly laugh that came from you making Spencer smile blissfully. 

You bite your lip as you reach between your bodies, lining Spencer up against you perfectly. The warmth radiating from you was driving him crazy. It took everything in him to not suddenly take control and rut his hips against you. You sank slowly down on his length, not so little, you thought yourself.

“Oh jeez, I feel like I could come already,” you gasped, the pressure building in the pit of your stomach felt already overwhelming. Maybe it was the fact you hadn’t had sex in years. You felt starved of this kind of touch, this kind of intimacy. The kind of feeling of Spencer’s cold fingertips touching and gliding across your skin like you were glass. Yeah, that was the feeling you didn’t know you needed, you didn’t realize you craved so much until this very moment. 

“I’m a bit embarrassed to admit the same,” he chuckled breathlessly, “If you don’t start moving, I’m not gonna be able to hold myself back any longer.”

You took this as the green light to start rocking your hips back and forth. One hand resting against his cheek and the other stabilizing yourself against the frame of the couch. Spencer’s hands rocked with you, his way of helping and understanding the rhythm you were going. He started, with gaining confidence, to buck his hips into you and that’s when the pleasure began to build. You panted heavily above him, moans every now and then escaping your mouth to echo against the walls of Spencer’s small apartment. 

“Shit. You feel so good,” he breathed out, “I thought I’d last longer.”

“Please, please don’t come yet,” you begged; bringing your forehead to his. You could see his skin becoming shiny with sweat, his cheeks flush with redness. Spencer, determined to make you come before him, or at the very least with him, reached between your thighs rubbing fast and swift circles against your clit. Your hips jerked with pleasure and Spencer’s name dripped from your lips like honey. 

“Oh, that’s it,” Spencer whispered. His free hand came up and pulled you in a passionate and sloppy kiss. His tongue entwined with your and you moaned wildly as did he. His brain was fuzzy, not that your’s wasn’t also, with the sounds of sex, the rhythm of your hips, the warmth of your slick soaking his fingers. 

“I’m close, fuck I’m so close, Spence,” you whined.

“Let go, sweetheart.”

“Ngh!” you moaned loudly. You dipped your head forward resting your forehead in the crook of his neck. Your bodies were so close, your bare chests pressed against each other. You both could feel the other’s breath and slowly you began to match each other’s erratic rhythm the closer you got to your climaxes. You messily pressed your lips against Spencer’s one last time before the wave of electrifying pleasure overcame you. 

When you came down from your high, all you could feel and hear in that moment was Spencer. His soft pants brushing your ear, his arms cradling you close, his subtle leg shaking from what you assume was him also coming with you. 

“That was really good,” you giggled.

“It really was,” he agreed.

“I’m gonna tell everyone about this,” you whispered wickedly. 

“What?” Spencer questioned fearfully. 

“I beat you in Blackjack,” you reminded him, making him laugh loudly. 

“Give it a rest you would?” he sighed. 

“No way. I’m gonna tell everyone. And everyone’s gonna tease you because I beat you fair and square. Unless, you wanna admit that my boobs were distracting you from your card counting tricks,” you teased.

“Alright, you won fair and square,” he smiled blissfully at you, his eyes soft and gentle in the warm light.

You giggled sweetly bringing him in a tender kiss, definitely not for the last time that night. Your bodies were entwined for the rest of the night until the tepid sunrays peaked meekly through the curtains of Spencer’s bedroom window. The two of you sharing giggles between the sheets with his arms embracing you the way they had been all night. Needless to say, blackjack continues to be your favorite poker game. Especially now more than ever. 

[scealaiscoite]

⋆˚࿔ one hundred paired prompts 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

¹⁾ a pot of fresh coffee and split knuckles

²⁾ orange peels and a car battery

³⁾ sand dunes and leather boots

⁴⁾ a printer and a knife

⁵⁾ incense and handcuffs

⁶⁾ a crushed velvet sofa and a video camera

⁷⁾ stale cigarettes and cotton candy

⁸⁾ loose change and headlights

⁹⁾ grey hairs and a gold belt buckle

¹⁰⁾ burnt coffee and grass stains

¹¹⁾ cherry cola and blue jeans

¹²⁾ chipped green nail polish and an empty dinner table

¹³⁾ a stack of paperwork and metal music

¹⁴⁾ a patchwork quilt and sweet tea

¹⁵⁾ a hockey sweater and a two-seater sofa

¹⁶⁾ perfume oil and rolled up shirtsleeves

¹⁷⁾ fallen leaves and guilt

¹⁸⁾ radio channels and a birthday card

¹⁹⁾ ravens and meadowsweet

²⁰⁾ apologies and bitter red wine

²¹⁾ library books and pouring rain

²²⁾ a breathalyser and popcorn

²³⁾ princess plasters and iodine

²⁴⁾ a tote bag with one broken strap and a winding staircase

²⁵⁾ a parasol and a tumbler of straight whiskey

²⁶⁾ fresh honey and a cult

²⁷⁾ wisdom teeth and blue eyes

²⁸⁾ sour cherries and a stolen hoodie

²⁹⁾ the flu and a heatwave

³⁰⁾ a boonie hat and a sunset

³¹⁾ vanilla perfume and a kitchen counter

³²⁾ a buffalo skull and a leather armchair

³³⁾ a throw pillow and a doorway

³⁴⁾ pink fluffy handcuffs and an unexpected guest

³⁶⁾ a package and a divorce

³⁷⁾ a stripper pole and a hangover

³⁸⁾ familiar cologne and a black eye

³⁹⁾ a lit candle and a snowstorm

⁴⁰⁾ an unsealed letter and a fallen pine tree

⁴¹⁾ headlights and footprints

⁴²⁾ a blocked number and traffic lights

⁴³⁾ a racesuit and a countdown

⁴⁴⁾ a butcher’s apron and a phonecall

⁴⁵⁾ battered comic books and a broken window

⁴⁶⁾ cold floorboards and a roommate

⁴⁷⁾ smooth vermouth and gold rings

⁴⁸⁾ a lip piercing and a rough hand

⁴⁹⁾ someone’s spare room and an eclipse

⁵⁰⁾ a game of mahjong and bad jazz music

⁵¹⁾ a jigsaw puzzle and a mortuary

⁵²⁾ a broke-up sidewalk and a knitted scarf

⁵³⁾ a poundshop wig and broken glass

⁵⁴⁾ a bunk bed and a crush

⁵⁵⁾ a red ink tattoo and a dinner gone cold

⁵⁶⁾ a warm palm and a flannel shirt

⁵⁷⁾ fresh basil and a half-empty bottle of arrack

⁵⁸⁾ a nightclub bathroom and smeared eyeliner

⁵⁹⁾ a busted lip and strawberry icecream

⁶⁰⁾ a floral-patterned dress and a looming balcony

⁶¹⁾ peach pits and a pressed shirt collar

⁶²⁾ a white mercedes and cheap perfume

⁶³⁾ a fwb and a housekey

⁶⁴⁾ a blue sarong and a fingertip tracing over a scar

⁶⁵⁾ a sauna room and a terse exchange

⁶⁶⁾ fried plantains and a briefcase

⁶⁷⁾ dried lavender and a tiled bathtub

⁶⁸⁾ a hotel room and a bouquet of lilies

⁶⁹⁾ sweet mango lassi and a suitcase

⁷⁰⁾ orange streetlights and a nightmare

⁷¹⁾ a crucifix and a thigh tattoo

⁷²⁾ a palm tattoo and the thrum of a heartbeat

⁷³⁾ a champagne room and a police siren

⁷⁴⁾ blue nitrile gloves and a hickey

⁷⁵⁾ a double-wide trailer and shotgun shells

⁷⁶⁾ stitches and pyjama shorts

⁷⁷⁾ karaoke and a snowdrift

⁷⁸⁾ an older man and a twin bed

⁷⁹⁾ chinese takeout and a graveyard

⁸⁰⁾ wet clothes and ambulance sirens

⁸¹⁾ carbolic soap and a creaking staircase

⁸²⁾ an undercover assignment and wrung hands

⁸³⁾ the back seat of a limousine and bustling night streets

⁸⁴⁾ a steamed-up bathroom and cold floorboards

⁸⁵⁾ a grand prix and a breakup

⁸⁶⁾ a third place trophy and a picture frame

⁸⁷⁾ the last slice of birthday cake and crossed legs

⁸⁸⁾ squashed raspberries and heated cheeks

⁸⁹⁾ pink lipgloss and brass knuckles

⁹⁰⁾ a ghost mask and a late visit

⁹¹⁾ loose bullets and slashed tires

⁹²⁾ a tactical belt and patterned bedsheets

⁹³⁾ a goaltender’s stick and a lonely walk home

⁹⁴⁾ a dog bed and a migraine

⁹⁵⁾ lit billboards and a floor-length gown

⁹⁶⁾ a divebar negroni and a game of pool

⁹⁷⁾ olive trees at harvest time and divorce papers

⁹⁸⁾ a caviar bump and vanilla coke

⁹⁹⁾ a whale tail and pantsuit

¹⁰⁰⁾ legs thrown into a lap and calloused hands

[disgustingtwitches]

A Rose in Harlem

Simon Riley is an enigma—a brooding, complex man with a shadowed past that he can’t escape. You’re just an ordinary person until he claws his way into your life and you can't help but give in to him. The only problem is that you try to keep things casual, while Simon's never been one to settle for that.

Long live the rose that grew from concrete, when no one else ever cared.

Masterlist

PART 3

(He longs to be) Close to you

***

You freeze, heart pounding, the moment shattered. Who the fuck is that? You think to yourself, panic creeping in. Another knock then a familiar, playful voice from the other side of the door.

“Bitch! I know you're home!”

“Oh my God. Ishta.”

You completely forgot about your little watch party with her. This can't be happening now. Of course it's happening right now.

“Hm, that a girlfriend I don't know about?”

Simon murmurs, nuzzling his face to your neck.

“You need to go.”

Your voice is low, urgent, but it only seems to amuse him. His hands wrap around your waist, pumping his hips upwards, rubbing himself against your soaked underwear.

“What, you're kicking me out? Just like that?”

He nips at your neck, making you yeep. He tightens his hold, long arms locking you in.

You tense, trying to wiggle from him but him and his stupidly defined arms aren't budging.

“I'm serious; you need to leave, now.”

You twist in his arms, your anxiety growing as Ishta's knocking gets louder. She's never been patient.

You can feel his lips curve into a smile.

“You're tense, should relax a bit.”

“Relax?! Oh my God, I'm gonna kill you.”

You snap in a hushed tone, yanking yourself free (well, more like he finally relents and lets you go). You tug your shorts up while he follows suit, much more leisurely than you. He quips while letting you drag him towards the fire escape,

“Can't believe I'm the other woman, thought I was special, angel.”

“You're not making this easy.”

“Mistresses rarely do.”

Simon smirks, while you pull him to the window. Ishta knocks again, louder this time.

“Stop jerking off, the ice cream is melting!”

Simon snickers and you push him through the window onto the fire escape. His large frame steps out, stretching out while he turns to you.

“What? No kiss goodbye?”

“Simon!”

He doesn't budge until you lean out the window, planting a quick, chaste kiss on his scared lips. His hand cups the back of your neck, practically shoving his tongue down your throat, before you wrench yourself away.

“Bye.”

The words come out harsher than you mean while you shut the window, watching him slip into his place, not trusting him to sneak back into yours.

Ishta's voice whines from behind your front door. You smooth out your clothes, pasting a sheepish, wide smile. You take a deep breath before opening your door.

“Hey girl! Sorry I-”

“Was jerking off thinking about your neighbor? I know girl. Get that nut in friend.”

She empties her tote, sets some wine bottles down and grabs two cups from the kitchen before bending to sit on the couch. You wince watching her try to sit where his bare ass was.

“Oh! No don't-”

She looks at you curiously, frozen mid-squat— your brain scrambling to find something remotely plausible.

“I spilled tuna juice there earlier.”

She narrows her eyes at you, searching your face. She must be satisfied with what she sees because she shrugs and moves to the other side.

“Can't smell fishy. Got a date later.”

She pops open a bottle, pouring a generous amount into each cup. You grab the one she offers and take a seat on the arm of the couch.

“A date, huh? Is it that finance guy from last month?”

She rolls her eyes, turning on the TV.

“Oh God, no. He was so fucking annoying, trust fund baby.”

You laugh a little, grateful for her not pressing you on the couch thing.

“So who's the lucky guy?”

She waves her hand vaguely, her attention already on the TV, looking for a show.

“Met him at the park. He was jogging—shirtless, obviously—and tripped over his own fucking shoelaces. Adorable. Total himbo vibes.”

You raise an eyebrow, smiling into your glass.

“Thought you liked nerds.”

“That's the thing,”

She turned to you, grinning like a fool.

“Ok so, we were talking about showers,”

“Naturally.”

“Naturally. Anyways, he starts going on about different hypotheses of 'the shower curtain effect' with this dumbass smile on his face. I'm trying not to stare at his tits and just ask him if he wants drinks before I start drooling. Obviously, he says yes, and here we are!”

She finishes her glass and helps herself to another. You lean closer to her.

“So what's the plan? Drinks, talk about nerdy shit, and then stumble into his place and ogle at his star wars figurines?”

“First off all,”

She raises a finger.

“He’s an artist, so get it right. And secondly, he's Scottish. So like, the accent makes everything hotter.”

You hum curiously.

“My apologies, I clearly underestimated his international flare.”

“You did. Also, you're welcome for letting you live vicariously through me, by the way.”

She flips her hair over her shoulder.

“Oh, oohh my goodness. Thank you for your graciousness.”

You say in mock appreciation, hand over your heart. Her eyes twinkle when she winks at you.

“Freely granted, my dear. I'll text you all the juicy details.”

“Lucky me.”

You say dryly, swirling your wine glass. Ishta lightly hits your knee.

“Look at us. You got your English guy, I got my Scottish one. Just gotta snatch up an Irish and Welsh one, and we've got a whole set!”

“Please be serious, girl. Also, he's not ‘my guy’, he's just a neighbor.”

“Uh-huh, keep telling yourself that. We'll see how long that lasts.”

***

You've been more moody lately. From Ishta unintentionally cock-blocking you, to work being particularly demanding, and finally, Simon terrorizing you relentlessly.

Ever since ‘the incident’ he's been on you like white on rice. He'll stop you in the mornings in the foyer and casually talk about how he came to the thought of you last night or stand behind you in the elevator and grind up against you, laxly apologizing.

“Sorry. It's just such a tight fit here, right angel?”

You silently thank God Simon has the sense to pull these stunts when no one else is around to witness his brand of debauchery (he doesn't, you just got lucky no one's there when he pulls that shit).

You're barely holding onto your patience. Every word he says, every deliberate touch grates on your nerves. He has you on edge, dangling by a thread. A simple nudge could send you tumbling— yet he never quite gives it. Instead, he leaves you like this, toeing the line.

Waiting. Waiting on you to make the jump.

It kind of surprises you, given the whole…incident. You expected him to follow you into your apartment one day and finally consummate whatever twisted, simmering thing you had going on. But he didn't. Seemed to enjoy making you squirm.

***

You could almost forget about him during the day. Almost. Work has been a circus lately, thanks to your boss—the museum curator who seems to thrive on chaos. She’s brilliant, yes, but she’s also impossible. Barking orders, demanding perfection, treating every missed detail like a personal betrayal. You spend your mornings running errands and your afternoons fielding phone calls from artists who need their egos stroked. The only moment of reprieve is when you’re in the gallery itself, away from the madness, the artwork pulling you into a quiet, timeless space.

But even that doesn’t last. Today, you spent hours installing a new piece—a massive, fragile sculpture—and as soon as it was in place, she decided it needed to be moved six inches to the left. Six inches. By the time you got home, your nerves were frayed, your patience long gone.

He’d been waiting in the lobby when you arrived, as if he knew you’d had a long day. His presence suffocating, his voice a low murmur in your ear as he stood too close, his hand brushing your hip when you reached for the elevator button.

“You look tense, angel.”

“Simon, please.”

“‘Please?’ Wow, must've been really bad today.”

He chuckles to himself, like he's so fucking funny.

You rub your eyes, the tired dryness a reminder of the day you'd had. He sees this as an invitation to step behind you and wrap his arms around you. Large frame towering over you, long arms sliding around you.

“Not in the mood for this today, Simon.”

You mutter, void of its usual bite.

You don't even have the energy to push him away when he plants a kiss on the side of your neck, softer than the last time his lips touched your skin.

“So sweet when you're tired out. Wonder if you're like this after-”

The elevator dings and you pull away, pushing his head off your shoulder and trudging to your place. At this point, you're too drained to care about his games, too tired to rise to the bait.

If he wasn't going to stop playing, wasn't going to do anything but pussyfoot around, you had better things to do—like collapse on your bed and sleep for 12 hours straight.

You reach your door and fumble with your keys, cursing under your breath when they decide now is the perfect time to be elusive in your bag.

“Need help?”

You don’t jump. You’re too used to that voice coming from behind you, low and amused. His words echo in your head more than you’d like to admit these days.

“No.”

You say, sharp enough to bite through the air as you finally fish the keys out and shove one into the lock.

It sticks. Of course, it sticks.

He says something you ignore while he leans against the side of the doorframe, watching you struggle. Your head lands on the door with a soft thud, forehead pressing against the cool metal.

“You’ve been quiet tonight. Not like you to let me have the last word.”

“I’m too tired for this.”

“For what?”

“For your bullshit.”

You spit, jiggling the key rougher than necessary.

Simon hums, entertained.

“There she is. Was worried I lost you for a minute.”

The key refuses to turn. Between him looking over your shoulder and the fucking door mocking you, your patience starts to shred, gossamer-thin.

When the door finally opens, you turn to him.

“Do you ever shut up?”

He shrugs.

“Not when I’m having this much fun.”

“You call this fun?”

“Watching you fight with a door? Yeah, a little bit. Had my money on the door though, unfortunately.”

You swear his grin is almost audible under that mask.

Your eyes narrow, heated.

“Don't you have somewhere else to be?”

He doesn't miss a beat.

“No, actually. Not tonight.”

“Of course not, when do you ever?”

You mutter, yanking your keys out of the lock.

“Just keeping the schedule free for you, love.”

“Free to annoy me?”

“Something like that.”

Your eyes drift from his face down to his arms crossed over his chest. His compression shirt doesn't help, the material stretching in a way that feels obscene.

Then while he watches you stare, he flexes subtly.

It pulls a laugh out of you, the sound slipping out before you can help it,

“Whore.”

He pulls his mask down, showing off his own smile. His canines sharp and slightly crooked, but somehow it makes him more attractive. Like he doesn't just accept his imperfections, but wears them proudly, fully aware of their charm.

“Just for you, angel.”

“Your persistence is coming off pathetic.”

You huff half-hearted, crossing your arms.

“Doesn't seem to bother you much.”

Simon goads. You think this is the happiest you've ever seen him.

“It does.”

You lick your teeth, feigning irritation. He mirrors the movement, finishing it off with a smile that makes your face hot.

“Go on then,”

His voice drops lower, thick and languid, molasses poured slow on a hot day.

“Tell me how you really feel.”

It's quiet for a moment. He tilts his head, eyes glinting and the edge you've been teetering on crumbles underneath you, all reservations and restraint gone. You grip the strings of his hoodie and pull him down to your face.

“You're insufferable.”

“Yes.”

“A tease.”

“Mhm.”

“Worst neighbor I've ever had.”

“Ouch.”

He says, though his tone is anything but wounded. If anything, it sounds downright gleeful.

“Makes me wanna do awful things to you.”

You say in a hushed tone, a newfound energy pumping through your veins. The space between you grows smaller as you tug him even closer, his hands instinctively finding your waist, steadying both of you.

“Yeah,”

His voice is low, molten. A scorching heat that flows from his mouth down your chest and stomach.

“Probably use those pretty little hands, leave marks. Bruises I'd feel every time I breathe.”

You twirl the strings around your fingers, leading him into your place. It feels like tugging on a leash tied to a dangerous dog— wild and unpredictable, tethered to you and you only. He catches the door before it slams shut, closing it without looking, dark eyes honed in on you. Makes your stomach do flips.

“You'd like that, wouldn't you?”

His silence is answer enough, a smirk playing on his face. You muse, shoving him toward the couch with a playful push,

“Maybe I'd keep it simple, knife to the heart. If I could find it.”

He spreads out on the cushions, pulling you to him, making you straddle one of his thick thighs.

“Sounds painful, tell me more.”

“Maybe I'd tie you up. Make you beg for your life.”

When you say that, he groans— an honest-to-god groan and his grip on your hips tightens.

“It’d be hard, getting through all that muscle and bone,”

He grabs your wrist, making you press two fingers on the hard, fast pulse right under his jaw.

“Be quicker and easier to hit it right here. Faster way to go out.”

You cock your head to the side, biting back a moan feeling the beat of the vein under his skin go impossibly fast when you hum.

“Think I'm gonna go easy on you?”

His response is instant, almost desperate if you thought he was capable of that emotion.

“I hope to God not.”

He wraps himself around you, pressing you up against his solid frame like he's trying to meld his body to yours.

***

He's been at this for long, too long. He hasn't even taken off either of your pants, all too happy to have you grinding your pants against his denim. It's got you so pent up, you're half crazed, panting in the crook of his neck and mumbling pleas for relief.

“Want you, Simon.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He shakes his head and you groan in frustration.

“Been a real brat lately, can't reward that kind of behavior.”

“Pleasepleaseplease-”

“Sound so pretty, begging for me.”

You're trying anything at this point. Anything but ripping his clothes off. Or yours.

“Don't you wanna feel good too?”

Your tone is so dulcet, it's almost too sweet in your mouth, words dripping with a carefully calculated innocence. You play with the waistband of his jeans, before you can get too far he takes hold of your wrist.

“I know what you're trying to do.”

There's a pause while you pull back to look at him, a sheepish smile on your face.

“Is it working?”

“Hmm…”

“Simon!”

You huff, almost whiny. He relents, only a little, bouncing you on his thigh once before forcing your hips to grind down harder on him. It makes you lean into him again, he presses a soft kiss on your temple, the kind of gesture that feels almost like he's mocking you with a false sense of soothing. As if he feels bad for you—his touch gentle but somehow condescending.

“Poor thing, could've gotten it sooner if you wanted to. Closed mouths don't get fed, you know?”

He sounds amused, lips still brushing against your temple. Your mouth finds its way to his neck, he lulls his head back, giving you more access to it. It's sweet, tender, starting at his collarbone and moving up slowly until you get to the artery he made you press up against earlier. The moment your teeth press up against it, he comes undone.

“Gaggin’ for it that bad?”

The sound of his belt clicking makes you downright giddy, you lick his neck, feeling his heartbeat under your tongue.

“Mhm…”

He grabs your hand to shove it down his pants and your brain goes static for a moment.

“Had me waiting all this time, and now you want it?”

It's growled into your ear, something about the way it's almost spat out, mean—it sends jolts of electricity between your legs.

“C'mon, show me how much you missed it.”

Your face heats up at his words and he lets out an entertained huff.

“He missed you too, ya know.”

A breathless giggle escapes you when he flexes, making his dick jump in your hands. You pull him out of his pants, eyes going wide. You've felt how big he was before, but seeing it was a whole different thing. Made it all real. Something about the way his pink tip peeked out made you laugh a little, a fleeting thought of him blushing everywhere, even on his dick.

“What?”

He furrows his brows a little, curious.

The truth tumbles out of you before you can stop it. You think you've made a mistake until you see him. His face is unreadable at first, and you brace for some sharp quip or a look of annoyance.

But instead, Simon’s reaction is… different. His ears go pink first, followed by a deep flush creeping up his neck. You want to laugh again but he creeps a hand up your spine to the back of your neck, guiding you into light kisses. You still manage to slip out a few giggles in-between, a smile creeping up across his face. It's such a warm moment, you almost forget about holding him until he twitches in your hands.

“Got the prettiest laugh.”

“Is there anything that you don't think is pretty about me?”

You ask, teasing him.

“No.”

His answer is quick, unwavering, and so serious that it makes your breath catch. You search his face, expecting the usual smirk or a sly remark, but there’s nothing there but honesty. He clears his throat, the faintest flicker of vulnerability flashing in his eyes before he tries to mask it.

“Right, let's get these off.”

He guides you off him so you can stand, he shimmies your pants and underwear off. Once you kick off the fabric pooled around your feet he leans forward, breath hot on your mons.

“Missed her.”

He says so quietly, almost to himself.

“Your pretty girl?”

You run a hand over his buzz cut, and he grips the sides of your bare thighs.

“Yeah…my pretty girl.”

A wet kiss on your most sensitive spot makes your legs tense up. He traces slow, indulgent circles, like this was more for him than you. The tension in your body mounting with every flick of his tongue.

He goes on like this until your knees almost give way from a quick, hard suck. He holds you up with a strong grip under the crease of your ass.

“Think you can stand on your own for a minute, love?”

You’re far past the point of throwing a smart remark his way, your body humming with the tension he’s left simmering under your skin. Instead, you nod quickly, eagerly.

“So good for me, angel. How'd I get so lucky, hm?”

It’s less a question and more an indulgence, the kind of thing he says to soak in the moment while he shoves his pants down to his thighs. When he pulls you towards him, guiding you to settle on his lap, just brushing his tip over your slick entrance, you follow without hesitation—soft, pliant, docile.

“Such a sweet thing. Only for me, right?”

Before you get to answer, he drags your hips down, pushing himself inside you. The stretch borders on discomfort—not just because it's been a while, but because he's thicker than anyone you've ever had before.

It's all so overwhelming— his voice, his touch, his body—all glut and heavy with want. The weight of it crashes over you, leaving you dizzy, untethered. Every word he speaks seeps into your skin, warm and lingering, while his hands, firm yet reverent, treat you like something both fragile and fiercely desired.

When he slides you down more, you tense up. Thighs flexing, clenching around him. It draws a curse from him,

“Fuck…yeah, only for me.”

The moment is so much softer than you imagined it to be—aside from him trying to lick the inside of your mouth. It's coos and words of encouragement,

“Look at you, taking it like a big girl,”

“Bet you needed this as much as I did,”

Big, rough hands gliding up and down your body, squeezing gently. Slow, deep strokes sink into you until you're a shaking mess, arms wrapped around him, clinging onto him like he's your lifeline, mumbling nonsense into his neck. He's taking full advantage of the moment, of course, his voice low and dripping with amusement as he watches you come undone for him.

"Gonna be like this all the time now, pet?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Only like this for me, yeah?”

“Mhm.”

You whisper, the words spilling out as easily as your control.

“No one else gets to touch you like this, huh?”

“Uhn-uh.”

Your lips brushing against his neck, your heartbeat hammering against his chest, sweat slick against the skin.

And it goes on like this, making empty promises with the devil. Signing yourself away with no hesitation, no second thoughts. Because he kisses you so tenderly it makes you flutter everywhere. Because the way he lifts you up just to buck his hips up into you makes your brain leak out of your ears. Because here, pressed against him, drowning in his voice and touch, there's nowhere else you'd rather be.

He hits that spot that makes your nerves taught. You're a string wound up too tight, his name spilling from your mouth again and again, each time more ragged, a little more whiny and desperate, until it finally snaps. You shatter, the force knocking the air from your lungs while he throws his head back, your name leaking out like it's the only word he knows. You're overstimulated, thighs burning and shaking while he ruts into you. You're pushing him with flimsy arms, whining about how ‘it's too much’. That only seems to egg him on, though, spurring him to murmur filth between honeyed kisses,

“Gonna ruin you for anyone else,”

“Split you apart everyday and you'll fucking thank me for it, won't you?”

He doesn't even look for an answer from you, more than happy to bask in the mess he made of you. A few more strokes has him choking mid-sentence, sinking so deep inside you think he might've been serious about splitting you apart.

It's quiet for a moment, save for the heavy breaths shared between the two of you

“You with me, angel?”

He sighs, his lips press against the skin right over your heart. He lingers, sucking softly, the kind of pressure that's going to leave the skin tender for days—a reminder of him.

You nod, barely able to find your voice, but he waits-patient, his hands wrapping around yours.

"Yeah…”

You finally manage, squeezing a hand that completely engulfs yours, brushing against it with your thumb.

"Good,"

He whispers, his lips brushing against yours again.

"That's all I need.”

And in the back of your mind, as his touch lingers, there's a small fleeting thought:

Oh, you're fucked.

prev | next

[mistyshane30]

You Were Never Mine to Lose (Chapter 8)

Synopsis: A day of shopping and a night of games bring the group closer, filled with laughter, teasing, and playful chaos. But as the night winds down, unspoken tensions linger beneath the surface. 

Word count: 4.7K 

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol consumption, Subtle angst, Lingering tension, Unresolved emotions 

You wake up to a dull, throbbing headache—the kind that comes from drinking alone and overthinking too much. Your mouth is dry, and the first thing you do is reach blindly for the glass of water you left on the coffee table last night—only to find it empty. Great. 

Groaning, you sit up, wincing at the stiffness in your neck. Right. You fell asleep on the couch. Rubbing your temples, you glance at your phone. 

It’s already 1:07 PM.  

You blink at the time, still half-asleep, trying to piece together how you even ended up here. The last thing you remember is Adele playing on repeat, the soft glow of the lamp, and the slow burn of whiskey settling in your chest. 

You unlock your phone, and immediately, a flood of group chat messages fills the screen. 

Coven Group Chat 

Jen: "Shopping at Malibu Country Mart today. Be at the main entrance by 3 PM. Also, slumber party at my villa—7 PM. Don't be late." 

Alice: Ooooh, slumber party at 7PM, let’s gooo! 

Lilia: I’m bringing face masks and wine. This is a serious girls’ night. 

Wanda: Better not back out, Y/N. 

Lilia: If she even sees this message. Bet she’s still asleep. 

Alice: She’s totally still asleep. 

Jen: Sleeping off a wild night, probably. 

Wanda: Or she just drinks her problems away like an emotionally unavailable CEO… 

Lilia: Damn, psychoanalyze her more. 

Agatha: She’s reading all of this right now and deciding whether or not to respond. 

You pause, staring at Agatha’s message. It was sent only a few minutes ago. It’s not teasing like the others—it’s casual, knowing. The way she always seems to read you so easily, even through a screen, sends a flicker of something down your spine. 

With a sigh, you toss your phone aside and sit up, swinging your legs over the edge of the couch. Your body feels heavy, weighed down by the remnants of last night’s emotions. The living room is still dim, the curtains drawn shut, and you don’t miss the sight of the nearly empty whiskey bottle on the coffee table. You shake your head and stand, stretching as you make your way to the bathroom. A long shower helps, the hot water washing away some of the heaviness in your limbs. 

Once you're dry, you head to your closet, picking out something that makes you look far more put together than you feel—a black sleeveless knit turtleneck top, grey wide-leg trousers, and your Gucci Arielle crystal-heel ankle boots. You add your Bvlgari Serpenti sunglasses for an extra touch, though part of you knows you’ll need them to shield your still-sleepy, slightly puffy eyes. A tote bag to complete the look, and you're set. 

Feeling somewhat more like yourself, you move to the kitchen, making yourself a quick meal—the first of the day. As you eat, you absentmindedly scroll through your emails, skimming over a few work updates, though nothing urgent enough to demand your attention. Once that’s done, you switch to social media, scrolling without really processing anything, just filling the time. 

By the time you check the clock, it’s already 2:45 PM. 

Then a familiar chime of your phone breaks your thoughts. Another message from the group chat. 

Jen: Y/N, if you’re still asleep by the time we leave, I swear— 

You huff out a laugh, finally picking up your coffee and settling on the couch with your phone. You take a slow sip, letting the warmth ground you before finally typing a reply. 

You: Calm down, I’m alive. 

The second you hit send, Agatha’s typing bubble appears. It lingers for a few seconds before disappearing. 

You stare at the screen for a moment before shaking your head. You don’t have time to analyze it. 

You sigh, setting your phone down and pushing your plate aside. Grabbing your bag, you slip on your sunglasses and head toward the door, stepping outside. The afternoon sun is warm but not unbearable, and as you make your way toward the main entrance, you take a deep breath, bracing yourself. 

You don’t know what today will bring—just that she’ll be there. And lately, that’s been enough to keep your mind racing. 

As you step up to the van, you notice it’s just Jen, Lilia, Alice, and Wanda waiting. No Agatha. You’re about to ask where she is when a familiar voice speaks up behind you. 

“Did anyone bring a power bank? I forgot to plug mine in this morning.” 

You turn around, and there she is—Agatha, looking effortlessly put together despite the casual occasion. She’s wearing a beige lightweight wool blazer over a crisp white silk blouse, tucked neatly into ankle-length trousers of the same shade. Stiletto-heel sandals complete the look, and her black shades sit perched on her nose, adding to the polished aura. Her hair is styled in a bouncy blowout, making her look every bit the governor she is. 

You blink, then smirk. “Are we going shopping, or are we launching a campaign?” 

Agatha slides her shades down just enough to give you a look. “Says the woman dressed like she’s about to close a million-dollar deal.” 

You scoff, but before you can fire back, Lilia sighs dramatically. “Oh my god, just get in the van. You two can flirt inside.” 

You roll your eyes as Agatha just chuckles, and the group piles into the van. The ride is smooth, the warm Malibu sun casting golden streaks through the windows. There’s easy chatter—Wanda and Alice going over what stores they want to hit first, Jen already debating whether she needs another designer purse, and Lilia talking about trying some overpriced organic smoothie she saw in an influencer’s post. 

Agatha, next to you as always, is scrolling through her phone, but you can tell she’s listening to the conversation, occasionally smirking at their antics. 

It’s barely a five-minute drive before the van pulls up to the Malibu Country Mart. As you all step out, the salty ocean breeze mixes with the faint scent of coffee from a nearby café. The place is buzzing with people—locals and tourists alike, dressed in their effortlessly chic beach town attire. 

Jen claps her hands together. “Alright, where to first?” 

You catch Agatha adjusting her blazer, her rings catching the sunlight as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. It takes you a second too long to look away. 

After browsing through boutiques like L’Agence, James Perse, and Ralph Lauren—trying on clothes for fun but not really buying anything—you and the group make your way through the rest of Malibu Country Mart. Jen picks out some dresses and blouses at Ralph Lauren, Alice finds a few pieces of jewelry she can’t resist, and Lilia stocks up on candles. You just enjoy the walk, letting the easy conversations and occasional teasing fill the afternoon. 

Next, you stop by Malibu Shaman, admiring the eclectic art pieces, then wander through Cielo Home, browsing home decor for inspiration rather than purchase. Malibu Colony Co. is your last stop before a break, where Alice finds another piece of jewelry that catches her eye. 

Hunger starts creeping in, and the group decides on coffee and pastries at Alfred Coffee. But before you can get there, Jen suddenly stops in front of a flower shop called Hecate’s Garden. She steps inside without hesitation, the bell chiming softly as she pushes the door open. "I actually haven’t found a florist for my wedding yet," she muses, running her fingers gently over a bouquet of white peonies. 

The rest of you follow, spreading out to explore the shop. The scent of fresh flowers fills the air, mixed with the faintest trace of essential oils. Agatha lingers near a display of deep purple calla lilies, her fingers trailing absently over the petals. You glance at her for a moment before looking away, busying yourself with a stack of floral arrangement books. 

Jen walks toward the front desk and rings the bell, waiting patiently for the florist. A moment later, the sound of footsteps echoes from the back room, and soon, a woman steps out, wiping her hands on her apron. "Sorry for the wait! I was just finishing up a bouquet in the back," she says. 

You had expected an old woman to own this shop, but you’re surprised to see someone else entirely. Your eyes scan her for a moment—grey cropped tank top, faded jeans, an apron covered in flower stains, chunky boots, and her hair pulled into a messy bun. And that face… it looks familiar. Then it clicks. 

It’s the woman who kept winning at the Water Race back at Pacific Park—Rio Vidal. 

Quickly, you look away and slide your sunglasses on, as if that’ll do anything to hide you. 

Jen doesn’t notice your mini crisis. "Oh, it’s fine! I actually wanted to ask—do you have experience with wedding arrangements?" she asks. 

Rio nods, tilting her head. "I do. Are you a wedding planner, or—?" 

"The bride-to-be," Jen corrects with a smile, then gestures toward the group. "And these are my bridesmaids." 

Rio smiles, scanning the group, but then her gaze lands on you. She leans in slightly, as if to make sure she’s seeing correctly. 

"Y/N!?" 

You have no choice but to awkwardly face her, forcing a smile. "Rio," you say, trying to sound casual, though your cheeks feel like they’re on fire. 

Your friends exchange glances, clearly intrigued. Jen raises an eyebrow. "Wait, you two know each other?" 

Rio grins. "Yeah, we met at Pacific Park a few days ago. Y/N here was very competitive at the Water Race. Oh! And I actually gave her my business card—told her to pass it along in case you needed a florist." 

Jen tilts her head. "Really? Because I never got a business card." 

All eyes shift to you. You clear your throat. "I… forgot to give it to you." 

"Mmmhmm," Wanda hums, smirking. "Or maybe you just wanted to keep her number for yourself." 

You shoot her a glare, not amused. Wanda simply chuckles, clearly enjoying this too much. You, on the other hand, would love nothing more than to sink into the floor. 

The group seems entirely entertained by the revelation—except Agatha. Her expression is unreadable, but there’s something in her eyes that makes you uneasy. 

Thankfully, Rio steers the conversation back to business, chatting with Jen about the wedding. You take the moment to nudge Wanda in the shoulder, still irritated by her teasing. She just laughs under her breath. 

After discussing a few details, Jen thanks Rio, and the group prepares to leave. As you turn to exit, Rio smiles at all of you in a formal farewell, but as her eyes meet yours again, she winks. 

Your friends catch it. They don’t say anything, but their reactions are clear. 

Except for Agatha, whose expression remains cool, unimpressed. 

You force a small smile at Rio before stepping out of the shop, exhaling a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. 

When you finally reach Alfred Coffee and settle into a table, placing your orders, you notice your friends all staring at you. Expectantly. 

You blink. "What?" 

Lilia snorts. "Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because you totally just got winked at by the hot florist?" 

Alice smirks. "Yeah, and maybe because you looked like you wanted to sink into the floor the entire time." 

You groan, already regretting sitting down. "Can we not?" 

Wanda leans forward, grinning. "So, are you and Rio a thing now?" 

"No," you answer quickly. "We barely even talked." 

"But you could," Lilia teases. "Like, what if—" 

"There is no what if," you interrupt, shaking your head. "We met at a carnival game. That’s it." 

Alice raises an eyebrow. "And yet, she remembered you. And she winked." 

"Okay, why is the wink such a big deal?" 

Wanda shrugs dramatically. "Because it was a wink. A flirtatious, ‘see you later’ kind of wink." 

You sigh, taking a sip of your coffee instead of responding. The teasing goes on for a while, your friends fully enjoying watching you squirm. All except Agatha, who is busy on her phone, barely acknowledging the conversation. 

At some point, Alice leans forward. "Okay, okay, but back up—how exactly did you and Rio meet?" 

You exhale, knowing there’s no escape. "It was at Pacific Park," you start, setting your cup down. "She was at the Water Race game, and I—" you pause briefly before continuing, "Agatha was with me when we met." 

Lilia’s brow lifts slightly, but no one comments on that part. "And?" 

You clear your throat. "Rio kept winning. Like, every single round. Apparently, no one ever beats her at that game." 

"But you did," Alice points out. 

You nod. "Yeah. Eventually, I won. She came up to congratulate me after, since, according to her, it never happens. We talked a little, and she gave me her business card for Jen. That’s it." 

Lilia grins. "Interesting." 

"Not interesting," you correct. "Just a random carnival game. That’s all." 

The teasing continues, but you choose to ignore most of it. Eventually, the coffee is gone, and the group decides to head back to the resort. As everyone parts ways, Jen reminds everyone about the slumber party at her villa later. You nod, making your way back to your own villa, glad to finally get a moment of peace—though you’re not entirely sure why Agatha’s silence feels louder than all the teasing combined. 

It’s almost 7 p.m. when you make your way to Jen’s villa, the evening air still warm against your skin. You knock on the door, expecting Jen to answer, but instead, it swings open to reveal Agatha. 

She’s standing there in a set of deep purple silk pajamas, the fabric catching the light just enough to make her look effortlessly elegant. Her top is unbuttoned just enough to hint at the curve of her collarbone, and for a brief, fleeting second, you forget why you’re even here. 

Her gaze sweeps over you, slow and deliberate, before her lips curl into a smirk. 

“Well, well,” she drawls, leaning against the doorframe. “Didn’t realize this was that kind of slumber party.” 

You blink, confused for half a second—until you register the teasing glint in her eyes. And then it hits you—your outfit. 

You’re in a maroon silk cami and matching shorts, something you threw on without a second thought. Or at least, that’s what you’re telling yourself now. But standing here under Agatha’s sharp gaze, the air between you suddenly feels different—charged in a way you can’t quite place. 

She tilts her head, her smirk deepening. “Not that I’m complaining. You certainly know how to make an entrance.” 

Your breath catches, just for a second. There’s something about the way she says it—not just teasing, but something else, something lingering beneath her tone. Or maybe you’re imagining it. Maybe you want to be imagining it. 

You recover quickly, masking the brief flicker of nerves with a smirk of your own. “And here I thought you were the one dressing for attention, Mrs. Governor.” 

Her smirk twitches, like she knows exactly what you’re doing. But before she can fire back, you step past her into the villa, pretending your pulse isn’t just slightly offbeat. 

Inside, the others are already settled in the living room. Jen and Lilia are on the floor with face masks on, sipping their drinks, while Wanda and Alice lounge nearby, looking entirely too comfortable. The moment their eyes land on you, they exchange glances, and then— 

“Oh, damn,” Lilia hums, tilting her head. “Someone came dressed to kill.” 

Wanda wiggles her brows. “I know we said slumber party, but I didn’t think we meant lingerie ad.” 

Jen laughs, shaking her head. “I swear, you always have to make things dramatic, don’t you?” 

You roll your eyes, plopping down onto one of the cushions. “Can’t a girl just wear something comfortable?” 

“Comfortable?” Alice repeats. “That’s not comfortable. That’s a statement.” 

As the teasing continues, you catch Agatha sinking onto the couch out of the corner of your eye, her expression unreadable. But when you glance at her fully, she’s already looking away, swirling the drink in her hand like she has better things to focus on. 

Maybe it’s nothing. 

Or maybe it’s something. 

Either way, you shake it off and grab a drink, ready to see what the night has in store. 

You guys order some pizza to eat while chatting, the conversation flowing easily as laughter fills the room. Between bites, you find yourself stealing glances at Agatha every chance you get, catching the way the dim lighting makes her look impossibly softer. She seems relaxed tonight, the usual sharpness in her gaze slightly dulled by the warmth of the atmosphere. 

After eating, Wanda suggests playing Jenga. The first few rounds are fun—competitive banter, exaggerated celebrations when someone successfully pulls out a block, groans when the tower inevitably collapses. But after two rounds, the excitement dies down, and everyone starts losing interest. 

Lilia, ever the instigator, claps her hands together. "Alright, Jenga was a bust. How about Truth or Dare?" 

You let out an incredulous laugh, shaking your head. "Are we seriously playing Truth or Dare? What is this, a high school sleepover?" 

"Oh, come on," Wanda smirks, already reaching for her drink. "We’re all adults here. What’s the worst that could happen?" 

You scoff but ultimately shrug. It’s harmless fun, right? Just a game. And besides, the slight buzz from the drinks makes everything seem a little funnier, a little lighter. 

The game begins with everyone sitting in a circle on the floor, a half-empty pizza box in the middle and glasses of wine or soda scattered around. Jen starts first, picking "Truth." Lilia leans in, smirking. "Alright, Jen—when did you know your fiancé was 'the one'?" 

Jen hums, thinking. "I guess when he stayed up all night helping me prepare for a court case even though he had no clue what he was doing. He just wanted to help." 

Alice clutches her chest dramatically. "Ugh, that's disgustingly sweet." 

The turns continue. Alice chooses "Dare" and is dared to text an ex a vague "I miss you." She groans but does it, then immediately turns her phone off. "Nope. I'm not dealing with that tonight." 

Lilia picks "Truth" and is asked who her last crush was. She sighs. "Some barista at this cute coffee shop near my apartment. We flirted a lot, but I think she was just being nice for tips."��

Agatha goes next. She swirls her wine glass, eyes flicking to you briefly. "Dare." 

Jen, who has been waiting for this moment, leans forward. "I dare you to say something you genuinely admire about Y/N." 

Your head snaps toward Jen. "Excuse me?" 

The group turns to Agatha, waiting. She tilts her head, considering, then meets your eyes. "She’s… determined. Once she sets her mind on something, she sees it through." 

Your stomach flips at her words, and you quickly look away, reaching for your drink to distract yourself. The air feels charged, but before anyone can comment, the game moves on. 

Then it's Wanda's turn. She picks "Dare," and Lilia grins wickedly. "I dare you to send a voice memo confessing your undying love to a random contact." 

Wanda rolls her eyes but takes her phone out, scrolling. "Fine, but if this backfires, I’m haunting all of you." She records the message dramatically. "I have loved you in silence for too long. Every moment without you is agony." She sends it and immediately regrets it. "Oh my God, I sent it to my dentist." 

The room erupts into laughter. 

Then, it's your turn. Wanda grins. "Truth or Dare?" 

You should’ve known she’d be trouble. "Dare." 

"Text Rio. Just a simple 'Hey~'." 

Your face heats instantly. "Are you serious?" 

"Rules are rules," Lilia chimes in, nudging you. 

With an exasperated sigh, you pull out Rio’s business card from your wallet, type in the number, and send the text. "Happy now?" You show them the screen. 

The group cheers, but you glance at Agatha. She’s focused on her drink, spinning the stem of her wine glass between her fingers, her expression unreadable. 

The game continues, with dares getting bolder and truths getting more revealing. Alice, emboldened by the wine, gets dared to send a flirty text to her neighbor and does so with a dramatic flourish. Lilia is forced to prank call her boss and nearly chokes on laughter trying to sound serious. Wanda, still recovering from her dentist confession, picks "Truth" and is asked who her biggest celebrity crush is. "Easy," she smirks. "Charlize Theron." 

Then it's Jen's turn again. She picks "Dare," and Alice grins. "I dare you to take a shot without making a face." 

Jen raises a brow, unfazed, and downs the shot with ease, setting the glass down with a smirk. "You underestimate me." 

Agatha, who has been quietly observing, finally gets another turn. She considers for a moment, then picks "Truth." 

Lilia leans in, her expression mischievous. "Alright, Agatha, be honest—have you ever been interested in someone in this room?" 

Agatha raises a brow, swirling her wine glass lazily. "Interest is a broad term." 

The group groans at her deflection, but Lilia presses on. "Fine, let me rephrase. Have you ever thought about kissing someone in this room?" 

Agatha exhales a soft chuckle, taking a slow sip of her wine before answering, "Maybe." 

More protests erupt, demands for details flying from all directions. But Agatha just smirks, her expression unreadable. You grip your glass a little tighter, pulse quickening. For a second—just a second—you swear her eyes flicker toward you, but it's gone before you can be sure. 

The game moves on, but your mind lingers. 

The game continues with even riskier dares and truths, laughter filling the room as the night deepens. 

Then, it comes back to you. You pick "Dare" again, and Jen lights up mischievously. "Perform a seductive dance for the group." 

You groan, throwing your head back. "Are we really doing this?" 

"Oh, absolutely," Alice smirks. 

Sighing, you stand up, stretching dramatically. The speaker is still playing soft music in the background, but Lilia quickly changes it to something more fitting—sultry, slow. You roll your eyes but go along with it, swaying your hips, running a hand down your body in exaggerated moves. Jen and Lilia pretend to throw money at you, and Wanda is recording, cackling. You steal a glance at Agatha, and— 

She’s watching. Intently. That same amused expression, but her lips are slightly parted, fingers tapping against her wine glass as if in thought. The way her eyes linger sends a shiver down your spine. 

You finish with a twirl and drop back down into your seat. "There. Happy?" 

"Oh, very," Jen teases. 

The night deepens, the dares get wilder, and the truths get riskier. By the time you’re all leaning into each other, laughing over some ridiculous confession from Lilia about making out with a stranger in an elevator, you can’t help but notice Agatha hasn’t picked another dare. 

And she’s barely taken a sip from her wine since that one particular dare was mentioned. 

The game carries on, but your thoughts keep circling back—to Agatha, to the way she looked at you, and to what exactly that meant. 

After the game, you guys decide to watch a movie. You sink into the couch, stretching your legs out comfortably, when Agatha casually takes the seat right beside you. You pretend not to care, keeping your expression neutral, but inside? Yeah, you definitely care. You tell yourself it's just because of the lingering tension from the game, but who are you fooling? You can feel the warmth of her so close, the occasional brush of her arm against yours, and it makes your skin buzz with awareness. 

Jen scrolls through the available movies, listing them out loud. 

“Okay, we’ve got Jennifer’s Body, How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days, Legally Blonde... ooh, Gone Girl, and then—The Exorcist?” Jen reads, glancing at the group for reactions. 

“Absolutely not,” Alice says immediately, shaking her head. “I am not watching The Exorcist before bed. I will sleep with the lights on.” 

“Lilia might actually like that one,” Wanda teases. 

Lilia just shrugs. “I mean, I wouldn’t mind. But I know Alice would kill me in my sleep if I made her watch it.” 

“She’s right,” Alice agrees. “Pick something else.” 

“Fine, fine,” Jen says, scrolling again. “What about 10 Things I Hate About You?” 

Wanda and Alice immediately light up. “Yes, yes, yes,” Wanda says, pointing at the screen. 

“Oh, classic. That’s the one,” Alice nods. 

Jen turns to the rest of you. “Votes?” 

“I’m in,” Lilia says easily. 

“Same,” you add. “It’s one of my favorite movies.” 

At that, Agatha gives you a look. A slow, unreadable glance before she tilts her head, brow slightly raised, like she just learned something new about you. You turn to her. 

“What?” you ask, narrowing your eyes at her. 

She just shrugs, smirking slightly. “Nothing.” Then she looks away, clearly amused about something. 

You squint at her for a second before deciding to let it go. Jen, satisfied with the choice, clicks play and turns off the lights to set the mood for a “cinematic experience.” 

As the movie starts, you settle into your seat, sipping your drink. Occasionally, your gaze drifts toward Agatha, watching how she reacts to different scenes. You steal glances at her when she’s not looking, curious. 

Then comes that scene. 

Heath Ledger, standing in the bleachers, belting out Can’t Take My Eyes Off You with a mischievous grin. 

Your grip on your drink tightens slightly. Not because of the scene itself—you’ve seen it a hundred times. But because, in the dim glow of the screen, you catch Agatha watching it with an expression that’s softer than usual, a flicker of amusement in her eyes. And maybe it’s your mind playing tricks on you, but for a brief second, you swear you feel her gaze shift toward you. 

You immediately look back at the screen, pretending to be engrossed in the movie. 

Great. Now I’m imagining things. 

You shake it off, focusing on the film. But then comes the poem scene. Julia Stiles’ Kat stands at the front of the classroom, voice shaking, eyes brimming with emotion as she delivers I hate the way I don’t hate you, not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all. 

You shift slightly in your seat. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Agatha blink a little more than usual. Her lips press together like she’s trying to suppress some kind of reaction. 

You don’t know why, but your chest feels tight watching her watch this scene. You tell yourself it’s just because it’s a good movie. That’s all. 

Definitely. That’s all. 

The movie ends, and one by one, everyone starts settling in for the night. The room is filled with quiet murmurs, blankets being adjusted, and the occasional yawn as exhaustion finally catches up. 

You lay down on the floor mattress beside Wanda, letting out a slow exhale as you adjust your pillow. The room is dim, only the soft glow of a lamp in the corner keeping the space from total darkness. Just as you start to get comfortable, Agatha lays down on the other side of you, close enough that you can feel the faintest shift of the mattress beneath her weight. 

You immediately freeze. 

With your back to her, you tell yourself not to think about it—to ignore the way the air shifts, heavier somehow, charged with something unspoken. To pretend the space between you isn’t filled with quiet tension, that your heart isn’t betraying you with every uneven beat. You stay still, breathing slow and steady, feigning indifference. Pretending it doesn’t affect you. Pretending you don’t feel her there. 

Instead, you turn to Wanda and make quiet small talk, anything to distract yourself from the warmth of Agatha’s presence behind you. Wanda hums sleepily in response, her words growing softer with each reply. 

Eventually, her breathing evens out, signaling that she’s drifted off. You should do the same. 

But you don’t move. You refuse to shift, to roll over or adjust, because that would mean acknowledging Agatha is right there. 

So instead, you stay perfectly still, facing Wanda’s side, eyes closed, forcing yourself to sleep—even as the awareness of Agatha lingers in every breath you take. 

Taglist: @6stolenangel9 @charlottelinlin1 @milflovers4 @claramelooo @loveshineslikethesky @kaymariesworld @marcelinaceciliarose @misskassycollins @greyella @theothersideofthescreen @whitelotus00 @agathaallalongg @psychickryptonitebouquet @sweetmidnights @angel-kitten-babygirl-u-choose @filmedbyharkness @brekker157 @rizzlesregal13 @starbucks-06 @aboutcustardcreams @crescendoofstars @neverfindmegone @mommy-mommy-mommy-hi

[solnyshko-moyo]

when in rome

i didn't have anywhere else to post this so here

Prompt: Going to Italy to save your sister’s exboyfriend is not how you wanted to spend your weekend.

Pairing: Reader x Felix

WC: 2,818

“Bella, you and Alice run ahead to find Edward. I’ll ditch the car and catch up with you guys.” You urge your half sister as the car comes to a complete stop around all the tourists heading to the square. Bella doesn’t need to be told twice, leaping out of the car and taking off running.

Alice eyes you in the mirror suspiciously. “Oh please, like I want Bella going into a vampire den alone. I’ll catch up.” Alice fully turns around in her seat, shock written all over her face. “You guys are literally terrible at being inconspicuous. I figured it out before Bella even moved to Forks.” You roll your eyes and throw your hands up.

“If we are already inside by the time you catch up, stay in the square. They don’t need to know about you.” Alice already regrets bringing you, wishing you’d gotten back to the Swan house ten minutes later than you did. But that stupid mongrel begged you to go with them to watch over Bella and Bella stupidly agreed with him. You’re a wild card to her, never showing up in her visions so she never knows what’s actually going to happen when  you’re involved. Another reason why she wishes you didn’t come but Bella wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Easy enough. Can I have your wallet?” You ask and Alice throws her head back, letting out a laugh. “What? If I don’t make it in time I can get us Italian accessories. Think of the leather Alice.” Alice grins at you, handing over her wallet before climbing out of the car.

You jump over the seat into the driver's seat of the convertible. “I knew I liked you. I’m a size 0 if you find anything good.” Alice says knowing you won’t have time to catch up with them until later since noon is now only a few minutes away. It’s better this way anyways. She leaves you in the car surrounded by the sea of people to chase down your sister.

You finally manage to pull the convertible into an alleyway and make your way down the path with the other festival goers. You don’t see your sister or Alice at the entrance of the clock tower so you wander down a side street full of small shops and bistros. There’s a spare red cloak thrown over a railing and you look around for anyone it could belong to before snatching it up as you walk by it. Throwing it over your shoulders, you wander into a boutique full of different accessories. There’s a pretty scarf like the one Alice was wearing and you decide you need one too. It’s not like Carlilse can’t afford it so you don’t really feel bad. There’s some matching gloves on the table below the scarf rack and you decide that those would be lovely as well. Maybe coming to Italy wasn’t entirely bad. You grab a handbag that was in the same cream background as Alice’s scarf for her, thinking it would look nice with her outfit. You swipe Carlisle’s card, giddy the transaction went through successfully.

Your next stop was the bistro down the street for a snack until Alice calls you telling you they are done. The two elderly Italian women sitting next to you are so cute gossiping over their espresso and biscotti. The waiter brings you the bottle of wine you ordered  and tells you in his sexy accent that your bruschetta will be out shortly. Yeah, you think, maybe you do like Italy. Cute boys and you’re able to legally drink? Total score. You feel bad your sister is somewhere in the vampire police den but Alice wouldn’t have let her out of the car if things didn’t work out right? Everythings going to be fine, you tell yourself. And what are you supposed to do? Traipse into a vampire den saying you're Bella’s sister and get them in more trouble?

You pull your book from the tote bag you had barely enough time to grab before Bella was dragging you out the door back in Forks. All that’s in there is twenty bucks, your book, your sweater, Alice’s new purse and the granola bar the airline gave you. You sip your wine as you read your book, enjoying the midday sun Edward was going to expose himself with.

Everything was going great until you got the uneasy tingle on the back of your neck like you’re being watched. Your tab had been paid for a while and the bistro’s starting to get busier so you figure it’s just other patrons waiting for your table. Corking your half drank bottle, you wander down the street looking for a bench you could continue reading at, hoping there’s maybe a park nearby. As you walk down the street the uneasy feeling subsides and you wonder how long Bella and Alice are going to be.

As you’re passing a narrow alleyway a cold hand clamps over your mouth and everything blurs around you. When your vision finally clears you’re in the iron grip of a grey cloaked figure that’s impervious to your struggling. You kick behind you at his shins, stop on his foot, and thrash in his arms to no avail. You’re hoisted over his holder and everything blurs around you again. You realize you’re moving at vampire speed, probably through alleyways in the city. Screaming out you continue to wiggle and kick your legs as best as you can, pounding on his back with your free hand, the other clutching your tote for dear life.

“Let me go you mother fucker!” You yell still trying to harm him with your fists and feet. The vampire carrying you just grunts. 

You bite his hip angrily which does make him falter for a second. “Did you just bite me, human?” He asks incredulously, not believing your feralness.

“Let me go!” You struggle in his grasp but he keeps going, running through god knows what, all you know is it stinks wherever you are. You grip the half drunk bottle of wine in your hand once you enter a more lit area. You lift yourself up from your dangling position and swing across your body and over your shoulder as hard as you can to connect with the back of your kidnappers head. The bottle shatters and he stumbles a few steps not expecting more violence from you. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” He yells at you, shocked at your behavior. You start stabbing the jagged end of the bottle into his back until it is so broken you can risk more without cutting yourself.

“Me? You’re fucking kidnapping me!” You scream back at him, resuming your thrashing. He finally halts in front of giant stone doors, pushing them open with one hand and not releasing you until you��re in the room and the doors shut behind him. 

“Santiago, what is the meaning of this?” A voice demands from behind you. You rip yourself out of his grasp stumbling a few steps away. 

“Y/N!” Bella exclaims and you whip around to where your sister, Alice and Edward are all standing gobsmacked. You rush over to stand with them, away from Santiago.

“Master that human is a terror! She bit me! She broke a wine bottle over my head! She tried stabbing me with the broken glass!” Santiago pointed at you, trying to explain himself.

“You fucking grabbed me walking down the street and didn’t say shit, you asshole!” You yell at him pointing an accusing finger back at him. The dark haired vampire lets out a startled laugh and your whirl around seeing Edward is trying to suppress a smile.

“Ah, dear. I’m sorry for Santiago’s behavior. We sent him to collect you so you could stand trial.” The vampire tries to explain coming to stand before you. He holds his hand out to yours, raising his eyebrows. You give him your hand and he looks utterly confused grasping it.

“Stand trial for what? I don’t claim him.” You point to Edward, bewildered this is even a problem involving you.

“For knowing of our existence you daft, insolent girl.” The blonde sitting on a throne behind the brunette snarls at you.

“We learned of you from Alice’s thoughts. Your knowledge of vampires.” The vampire let go of your hand breezing back towards the steps leading to the thrones.

“Because you guys do such a fantastic job at hiding it.” You roll your eyes and shake your head. These people are somehow even more conspicuous than the Cullens are.

“You didn’t say anything.” Bella mumbles hurt, eyes filled with betrayal.

“If Mr Emo’s ‘This is the skin of a killer, Bella’ didn’t give you the ick I doubt anything I said would’ve changed your mind.” You raise your eyebrows, knowing damn well your stubborn sister would’ve only pursued him harder.

Her jaw drops and eyes almost bug out of her skull. “How do you know about that?” Her face is red and Edward looks a little embarrassed. A few of the vampires across the room try to hide their laughter but fail. You glance over, catching the eyes of the taller one and his face falls.

You turn back to your sister and shrug, “You talk in your sleep sometimes.” You remember the night she mumbled that and how you almost peed yourself laughing.

“Enough.” The blond stands and you roll your eyes again. You wonder how old he is to be this miserable he’s taking it out on everyone else.

“Aro.” The other vampire sitting on a throne holds his hand out. The vampire, Aro, rushes over to him, grasping his hand. 

“How delightful! Congratulations Felix!” He beams over at the guards who were laughing, the big one still staring at you. “It looks like everyone gets to live today!” You wonder what the hell he means by that. “Young Y/N must stay but everyone else may leave.” What the double hell?

“Um, Bella can’t just go home without me? What is she supposed to tell our Dad? That she just left me in Italy? That’s not going to fly.” You feel yourself getting angry, who the hell are these people to tell you that you can’t leave.

“Ah, that is a valid point. Perhaps returning home for a short period of time so you can get your affairs in order would be beneficial to keeping unwanted eyes looking into your sudden disappearance. We will have Gianna draft up a fake internship invitation.” Aro claps his hands in delight, coming down to hold his hands out to grasp yours again. “Felix, Demetri, show our friends to a waiting area until they can depart when the sun goes down. It was so delightful meeting you both, we will be seeing you dears soon.”

The big vampire and the one standing next to him both moved towards the door, Edward glaring at the cocky smirk the big one sends his way. You wonder what you missed. You also kind of wish you still had that wine if you have to stay until the sun goes down.

“Miss Y/N, if you’d come with me for a few moments. I would like to speak with you privately.” The big one offers you his arm and you feel Alice’s tiny hand nudge you towards him. You take his arm glancing back at her but she gives you an encouraging smile as they continue walking in the opposite direction of you two. Bella looks like she wants to protest but Edward shakes his head at her.

“Are you Felix or Demetri?” You ask the muscular vampire as he leads you away.

He chuckles, “Felix but you may call me whatever you’d like, bambolina.” You wonder why he was being congratulated earlier and what it has to do with you and why you almost weren’t allowed to leave.

You enter a room after walking with him through a maze of halls. The stone walls are decorated with paintings of landscapes and scenes of ancient Rome. The pantheon and coliseum in their heydays, a gladiator fighting, the seven hills. They were all beautiful. There was a bookshelf full of books and a seating area, a dresser. You realize this must be his bedroom minus the unnecessary bed.

He leads you over to the seating area, opting to sit on it next to you when you settle on the couch. There’s a brief silence where you stare at each other waiting for the other to start speaking. You have nothing to say not knowing why you’re here but you know it’s because of him so you figure he can speak first.

Felix must catch on because he clears his throat, “How much do you know about vampires?” He asks hesitantly not sure where to start.

“Not much. I figured them out because their cover story sucks and they are kinda strange. Adopted siblings all with the same colored eyes, yeah right.” You scoff, shaking your head. “The old legends about vampires say you guys are ice cold, strong, fast. I figure since they are also ice cold that the rest would be true too. Alice said something about visions and Bella had to run ahead because he’d hear her coming. So I don’t really know why if Bella’s louder than she would be.” You shrug, you didn’t really care enough for clarifying questions. “Alice only found out I knew when we were in town.”

“So not much then. Yes, we have super strength and speed. We can hear, see, and smell better as well. The Cullens and a few other covens are vegetarians, meaning they drink animal blood instead of human blood which is why their eyes are gold instead of red.” Felix pauses and you nod along, your eyes a little unfocused as you think through his explanation. “Some vampires have additional gifts that vary from vampire to vampire. Alice has visions of the future, Edward can hear people’s thoughts, I’m stronger than the average vampire.”

“Oh, that’s what they meant then.” You nod again, understanding a little bit better.

Felix hesitates before continuing. “From your lack of knowledge I assume you don’t know of mates.” He pauses and lets you shake your head confirming you don’t know. “It’s like soulmates but for vampires.”

He watches your eyebrows raise as you slowly nod, putting the final pieces of the puzzle together. “And I take it that I’m yours?” He nods his head unsure of what to say. “Which is why that guy wasn’t going to let me leave.”

He snorts a laugh, “That guy is one of the coven leaders, Aro. And no, originally we were going to keep you here. It’s difficult to be apart from your mate. The urge to protect your mate is very strong and since you’re human it heightens that. Having you leave to somewhere I could not ensure your safety adds a level of anxiety but uprooting your entire life without notice I believe would create an animosity that I don’t wish for us to start with. If you hadn’t spoken up I would’ve even if it wasn’t what I wanted.” He explains in a seriousness that surprises you.

You give a small smile. “That’s very thoughtful of you.” 

He smiles back before responding, “We only get one mate. I wasn't going to screw it up in the first ten minutes.” He’s overjoyed you didn’t outright reject him. 

“Do you have a phone so we could talk when I’m in Forks?” You ask almost shyly, you’d never had to ask for someone’s number before. Forks is so small, everyone knows everyone.

“I don’t but I will acquire one so we can stay in touch.” Felix promises even more elated you want to get to know him more.

The two of you talk for a little bit longer before he leads you back through the maze of hallways to where your sister and the Cullens are waiting. Felix bows deeply and kisses the top of your hand, smiling and saying “We will talk soon, tesoro.” You smile and wave goodbye before entering the hallway and going to stand with your sister.

Bella almost squeezes the life out of you, hugging you so hard. You laugh, reassuring her you’re fine and unharmed. You wonder what’s all going to happen now, how you are going to tell Charlie you’re leaving. Originally after graduating this year, you were going to just go to college in Seattle to stay close to home but now you have to return here. Will you have to become a vampire? Felix never said explicitly but you figure he won’t just let you die of old age. So many unknowns for now but one thing you do know- you still wish you had that wine.

[ecosixpackrings]

Wine Bottle Gift Bags: From Simple to Luxurious Options – Everything You Need to Know

When it comes to gifting wine, the presentation can be just as important as the bottle. Wine bottle gift bags are a perfect way to elevate your gift, adding a touch of elegance and thoughtfulness. From simple to luxurious options, here’s everything you need to know about picking the right wine bottle gift bag.

Simple and Elegant

For those who prefer a minimalist approach, simple wine bottle gift bags are an excellent choice. These bags are usually made from materials like kraft paper or lightweight fabric. They are easy to use, affordable, and add a touch of elegance without being overly flashy.

Reusable and Eco-Friendly

Eco-conscious givers can opt for reusable wine bottle gift bags. Made from materials like jute, or recycled fabric, these bags not only look great but also promote sustainability. Reusable bags can be used multiple times, reducing waste and offering eco-friendly gifting solutions.

Personalized Touches

Personalized wine bottle gift bags take gifting to the next level. These bags can be customized with names, dates, or special messages, adding a unique and thoughtful touch to your gift. Whether you are celebrating a birthday, wedding, anniversary, or any special day, a personalized gift bag shows that you’ve put extra thought into your present, making it even more meaningful.

Luxurious Options

For those special occasions when you want to make a statement, luxurious wine bottle gift bags are the way to go. Usually, these bags come in materials like velvet, patterned paper, cardboard, or leather, offering an elegant & sophisticated touch to your gift presentation. They are ideal for weddings, corporate gifts, or any event where you want to impress.

Features

When choosing wine bottle gift bags, consider practical features like handles, drawstrings, or padding. Handles make it easier to carry the wine, while drawstrings provide a secure closure. Padded bags provide extra protection to the bottle, ensuring it reaches safely at its destination. These practical features enhance the functionality of the gift bag, making it more convenient for both the giver & the recipient.

Whether you are opting for a simple bag or a luxurious option, wine bottle gift bags enhance the gifting experience. They protect your bottle, improve its presentation, and offer convenience. With so many options available, you can find the perfect wine bottle gift bag for any occasion.

[dearlenore]

COCONUT MILK. / A.HOTCHNER / SUMMARY - Aaron can’t look away from your chest …

PAIRING: bimbo!reader x aaron hotchner / w/c: 1.0k / fluff

a/n: sorry for writing about boobs so much in only human and very very gay. also first time writing for Hotch, I write for all characters now btw

You were a vision in glitter.

From your sparkly flip-flops to your floral bikini top that left very little to the imagination, you looked like you belonged on the cover of a beach magazine—or maybe in a pop star’s music video. With oversized sunglasses, glossy lips, and a floppy hat so big it could cause shade envy, you were definitely not blending in.

And yet, walking beside you, in a plain black t-shirt, swim trunks, and a face that screamed “I’d rather be anywhere else”—was Aaron Hotchner.

The contrast between you two was almost hilarious. People were definitely staring. A few whispered. One guy even elbowed his friend and pointed. Hotch didn’t react.

You bounced along the sand with excitement, juggling three oversized tote bags and an obnoxiously pink beach umbrella while sipping from your tumbler like it was a wine glass at brunch.

“Okay, okay, hold on,” you said, stopping suddenly. “This spot is so cute! You can see the water and the people, but we’re like, just far enough not to get splashed. Also, the lighting? Chef’s kiss. Perfect for selfies.”

Hotch blinked behind his sunglasses. “That was a lot of criteria.”

“And yet I delivered,” you grinned.

He took the umbrella from you and stabbed it into the sand with the ease of a man trained in all things practical. You laid out your fluffy beach towel—naturally, it was baby pink with glittery flamingos—and flopped down onto it dramatically like you’d just completed a triathlon.

Hotch sat beside you, crossing his arms, watching the water.

You looked him over shamelessly. “You’re not even sweating. That’s kind of hot.”

He raised an eyebrow, not responding, but his mouth twitched slightly like he was trying very hard not to smile.

You rummaged through your tote bag and pulled out a bottle of shimmery sunscreen. “Alright, Hotch. Time to do your civic duty.”

He glanced at the bottle. “What?”

You turned your back to him, letting your hair fall to the side, revealing smooth skin and the bow tied at the back of your bikini. “My back, please.”

He hesitated for just a moment before taking the bottle. “You own sunscreen with glitter?”

“It’s called Summer Seduction SPF 30, and it works really well,” you said. “Plus it smells like cotton candy and fruit.”

He gave the bottle a skeptical look, then uncapped it. You bit back a smirk.

His hands were warm—firm but gentle as they spread the lotion across your back and shoulders. You hummed in satisfaction, leaning into the touch.

“Mmm… You know, for a stoic FBI unit chief, you’re, like, really good at this.”

“I’ve had to apply sunscreen to Jack more times than I can count,” he replied, tone even.

“You comparing me to a kid?”

“No,” he said. And then after a pause: “Only you ever moaned when I did this.”

You froze mid-breath, then looked over your shoulder, eyes wide. “Aaron!”

A smirk was tugging at the corner of his mouth now.

“You’re teasing me.”

“Maybe.”

You turned back around quickly, trying to hide your grin—and your flush. Your heart was fluttering just a little too fast for comfort.

When he finished, he leaned back on his elbows beside you, and you flopped onto your stomach, kicking your feet lazily in the air.

“I brought snacks,” you said after a minute. “And a mini fan. Oh—and cherry lip balm.”

He turned to look at you, and unfortunately—or maybe very fortunately—your cleavage was front and center thanks to the way your bikini fit and how you were leaning forward on your elbows.

His eyes flicked down.

It was quick. Almost imperceptible.

But you saw it.

You said nothing at first. Just smiled and tucked your hair behind your ear, pretending to be oblivious. And then, very sweetly:

“Do you want some lip balm? It tastes really good.”

“I don’t need lip balm.”

“But it’s cherry. Don’t you wanna match me?” you teased, applying it slowly, dragging it across your lips with deliberate slowness.

His jaw tightened. “You’re doing that on purpose.”

You smiled innocently. “Doing what, Hotch?”

He turned away, shaking his head, but you didn’t miss the slight flush on his ears. Victory.

A little while later, after a few selfies and a brief period of you trying to get him to pose with you (he refused, though he did agree to hold your phone while you posed), you ended up sprawled next to each other on the towel, staring up at the umbrella.

“So,” you said lightly, “be honest. This isn’t that bad, right?”

“It’s… peaceful.”

You smiled. “I’m taking that as a glowing review.”

He tilted his head slightly toward you, his voice quieter. “I like when it’s just us.”

Your heart did a little somersault.

“Aaron Hotchner,” you said dramatically, pressing a hand to your chest, “you keep this up and I’m gonna start thinking you like me.”

He looked at you for a long moment, his sunglasses now pushed up onto his head, revealing his eyes. They were dark, serious—but soft, too.

“I do like you.”

Your smile faltered. “Wait. Seriously?”

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

You blinked, thrown off balance. “Okay, but like, I thought I was annoying. You know, glittery. Talkative. High-maintenance?”

“You are.”

“Wow. Rude.”

“But you’re also smart. Kind. Funny. You make me breathe,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t do that enough.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. Your brain short-circuited for a moment. Your glittery tumbler tipped over onto the towel and you barely noticed.

You swallowed. “You’re gonna make me cry and ruin my waterproof mascara, you know that?”

He smiled, reaching out to brush a speck of sand from your cheek. “You’ll survive.”

You cleared your throat, desperate to bring back the playful tone before your heart exploded. “Okay, but, real talk—would you still like me if I got a glittery surfboard?”

“Absolutely not.”

“I could match it to my bikini!”

“No.”

“…What about a glittery boogie board?”

He closed his eyes, like he was begging for patience from the heavens. “Please don’t make me arrest you for crimes against water sports.”

You laughed and leaned your head on his shoulder, sighing happily.

And even though he was probably overheating in his black shirt and completely out of his element, Hotch didn’t move away.

Instead, he brought one hand to rest over yours and gave it a gentle squeeze.

[julieschulerart]

Wine/water bottle tote bag. https://jschulerart.etsy.com/listing/1517039160

[meazalykov]

sickness

kika nazareth x reader

summary: embarrassing yourself in front of your lover is not how you pictured your first night-in

warnings: food poisoning, vomit!!, possible emetophobia trigger, comfort

you’re in your apartment, setting up for movie night. 

the living room is cozy, and the soft glow of string lights hung across the walls creates a warm, intimate space. the midcentury modern style of your place makes everything feel neat for tonight. 

kika is coming over soon, and it’s only been two weeks since you both became official. you can’t help but feel a flutter of excitement mixed with nerves every time you think about her. 

the both of you have been playing together at barcelona for a while now, but this new chapter between the two of you still feels so fresh.

you’ve just finished arranging the sushi you ordered—a spread of different rolls and sashimi, all kika’s favorites—on the coffee table in front of the couch. 

you’re not the biggest fan of sushi, but you got yourself some california rolls, figuring it was the safest choice. you’re not too worried about it. tonight is about making kika happy, and you’re more than okay with that.

just as you lay the blankets on the couch, there’s a knock at the door. your heart skips a beat. it’s her.

you open the door to see kika standing there in her pajamas, a filled tote bag, a pair of loose sweatpants and a comfy t-shirt, hair slightly tousled as if she’s just rolled out of bed. 

she’s got a shy but warm smile on her face as she holds up a bottle of wine.

“thought this might be nice with the sushi,” she says, stepping inside. the moment she’s through the door, she wraps her arms around you, pulling you into a hug that instantly makes you feel like you’re home.

you laugh softly, squeezing her back. “you read my mind.”

kika pulls away just enough to look at you, her eyes twinkling. “i missed this. missed you.”

you smile, your heart swelling. “i missed you too. it's nice to finally get some time alone. between training and games, it’s like we never have a moment by ourselves.”

“well, we do now,” she says, her voice soft but filled with affection. she glances over at the coffee table and her eyes light up when she sees the sushi. 

“oh my– y/n…this is a lot don’t you think?”

you nod, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious. “it is, but i know it’s your favorite.”

kika’s smile falters slightly as she looks back at you. “but you don’t really like sushi, do you? i don’t want you to feel like you have to eat it just for me.”

you shrug, trying to brush it off. “it’s fine, really. i got california rolls. i can handle those.”

she hesitates, her brows furrowing with concern, but eventually she lets it go, her smile returning. “okay, if you’re sure.”

you both settle on the couch, the sushi laid out in front of you, and kika picks the movie. it’s halloween season, so you go for something on-theme but not too scary—something you can both enjoy without losing sleep later. 

as the movie starts, you curl up into kika’s side, her arm around your shoulders, and everything feels perfect. the ambient lighting sets the mood, and you’re grateful that there’s no training tomorrow. it means you can fully enjoy this time with her, no interruptions, no alarms to wake up early.

you both dig into the sushi, kika happily eating her favorites while you cautiously nibble on your california rolls. 

for a while, everything feels great. you’re laughing together, making playful comments about the movie, and you can’t help but feel how easy it all is with her. how natural.

but then, as the movie goes on, you start to feel…off.

you’re nestled into kika’s side, the movie playing softly in the background. her arm is draped around you, fingers absentmindedly tracing small patterns on your arm. the ambiance in the room feels perfect—the dim lighting, the cozy couch, the quiet intimacy of just being together. everything feels right.

but then, a subtle discomfort blooms in your stomach. it’s nothing major at first, just a slight unease, like maybe you ate too fast or didn’t drink enough water. 

you shift in your seat, trying to adjust, hoping the feeling will pass. kika’s fingers keep moving on your arm, her body warm and relaxed next to yours, and you try to focus on that, on the ease of being with her.

still, the discomfort doesn’t go away.

instead, it grows. your stomach feels heavier, the sushi you ate sitting like a rock. you swallow hard, hoping it’s just a passing sensation, but each passing second makes the nausea more real, more pressing. your heart starts to race, the panic creeping in faster than you can control it.

you’re not just uncomfortable now—you’re scared.

it’s sudden, like a switch flipping inside of you. the fear of being sick, of throwing up right here, in front of kika, crashes over you. you can feel your chest tighten, your breath quicken. the last thing you want to do is throw up. 

the memories from when you were a kid flash in your mind—how helpless you felt, how terrified you were every time it happened. that fear has never left you, and now it’s rising like a tidal wave.

your muscles tense involuntarily, and you can feel your body starting to revolt. the room feels too warm, your skin prickling with anxiety, and all you can think about is the inevitable. 

your throat tightens, a warning. it’s coming, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.

you glance at kika out of the corner of your eye. she’s so calm, so content, her attention still on the movie. she’s enjoying this—enjoying being with you—and the last thing you want to do is ruin that. you don’t want to alarm her, don’t want to spoil the rare moment of peace you have together. 

the nausea is growing unbearable, and you know you can’t stay here. not like this.

you shift again, trying to find a position that might ease the discomfort, but it only makes things worse. your stomach lurches violently, and a cold sweat breaks out across your skin. the fear hits you hard, your mind racing with thoughts of what’s about to happen. 

the thought of throwing up makes your heart pound in your chest, your body trembling with dread.

"shit," you whisper under your breath, a faint, desperate sound that kika doesn’t hear.

you can feel the bile rising, and suddenly, you know you can’t hold it back any longer. you shoot up from the couch, your hand instinctively covering your mouth as if that will somehow stop what’s coming.

“y/n?” kika’s voice is full of concern, but you don’t have time to explain. you’re already halfway down the hall, panic driving your feet as you run toward your bedroom and into the bathroom.

the entire time, your mind is spinning, fear gripping you like a vice. what if this ruins everything? what if kika is grossed out by this, by you? what if she doesn’t want to be with someone who gets like this?

however, the nausea is too overwhelming, drowning out all other thoughts. your only focus now is making it to the bathroom before it’s too late. you stumble through the doorway, collapsing to your knees in front of the toilet just as your body gives in.

you retch, your body convulsing as the sushi comes back up, and with it, all the panic you’ve been trying to suppress. tears blur your vision, and the fear of being sick, of throwing up, grips you so tightly it feels like you’re suffocating. 

the taste, the sound, the feeling of your stomach turning inside out—it’s everything you dreaded, and it’s happening now.

throwback to when you were a kid, how you’d cry for hours every time you got sick. the fear, the helplessness—it’s all flooding back now, and you’re doing your best to keep it together but your body has other plans.

your breath hitches, and panic sets in as you realize this isn’t something you can just ride out. the nausea is overwhelming now.

“y/n, are you okay?” kika’s panicked voice cuts as she reaches you in the bathroom. 

you gag, your body trembling as you cry– tears streaming down your face as you clutch the toilet bowl, feeling like your entire body is betraying you. 

your chest heaves, your throat burns, and the panic sets in deeper, choking you with fear.

kika is right behind you in an instant. she kneels down next to you, gently pulling your hair back and out of your face. her soft hand rubs soothing circles on your back, and even though you’re in the middle of a full-blown panic, you can hear her soft voice.

“shh, it’s okay, i’ve got you. just breathe, y/n. it’s going to be okay.”

you shake your head, your body still convulsing as more of the sushi comes up. it feels like your entire body is revolting, and the more you throw up, the more you panic. 

you hate this. you hate feeling like this. it’s all too much, and you’re scared, so scared.

“i’m so sorry,” you manage to choke out between sobs, your voice trembling with fear and exhaustion. “i didn’t want this to happen, i should’ve—”

“y/n, don’t,” kika interrupts gently, her voice firm but kind. 

“you don’t need to apologize. i’m here, okay? i’m not going anywhere.”

you continue to cry, your body spent and weak as you finish throwing up. all you can do is collapse onto the cool tile of the bathroom floor, your head resting on the soft bathroom mat. 

kika stays with you the entire time, never leaving your side. she’s calm, collected, even though you feel like a complete mess.

after a moment, she stands up. “i’ll be right back,” she says softly, and before you can protest, she’s out the door.

you’re left alone for a few moments, the silence of the bathroom settling around you. your body is trembling, your head spinning with the aftershocks of panic, and all you can think about is how humiliating this must be. 

kika had to see all of that. you just threw up in front of her, cried like a child, and now you’re lying on the bathroom floor because you don’t even have the energy to move.

what if this is too much for her? what if she’s grossed out? it’s so early in your relationship, and already she’s seeing you at your worst. is this going to be the thing that pushes her away? you start to spiral again, your mind racing with insecurities. 

before you can dwell too much on it, kika returns. she has a small pile of things in her arms—a bottle of water, some medicine, a warm rag, and a banana. she kneels back down beside you, her eyes filled with nothing but concern.

“here,” she says gently, placing the rag on your forehead and offering you the water. 

“small sips, okay? you need to rehydrate.”

you take the water gratefully, your hands still shaky as you bring it to your lips. kika watches you closely, her expression soft and caring.

“i’m so sorry,” you mumble again, your voice hoarse from the vomiting and crying. 

“i didn’t mean to ruin the night.”

kika shakes her head firmly, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. 

“you didn’t ruin anything, y/n. don’t even think that.”

you take another sip of water, your eyes avoiding hers. “but i should’ve known. i shouldn’t have eaten the sushi. i just wanted to—”

“y/n,” she cuts you off again, her voice gentle but insistent. “it’s not your fault. we can always get something else next time, okay? it doesn’t matter. what matters is that you’re feeling better.”

you glance up at her as your head lays on her thigh, your eyes wide with worry. 

“are you grossed out?”

kika pauses for a moment, then gives you a small, reassuring smile. “no, i’m not grossed out. honestly, i was more scared than anything.”

you blink, surprised. “scared?”

she nods, her hand resting on your arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. “yeah. i hate seeing you like that. i just wanted to help.”

you feel a wave of relief wash over you, though the embarrassment still lingers. 

kika smiles softly, leaning in to kiss your forehead. you didn’t respond to her due to your lack of energy, but its like she knows what you’re thinking. 

“y/n, it doesn’t matter if we’ve been together for two weeks or two years. if you’re not feeling well, i’m going to take care of you. that’s what this is, right? being there for each other. you’d do the same for me.”

you nod slowly, the weight of her words sinking in. she’s right. you would do the same for her without hesitation.

kika adjusts herself so that you can lay your head on her thigh more comfortably. she strokes your hair softly, her fingers running through the strands in a soothing rhythm. 

“just relax, okay? you’re going to be fine.”

you close your eyes, focusing on the warmth of her touch, the gentle way she’s taking care of you. it helps calm the lingering panic, helps you feel grounded again. 

you don’t have the energy to move to the bed, and honestly, you’re too comfortable here, with kika by your side.

she hands you the banana, breaking off small pieces and encouraging you to eat. “just a little bit,” she says, her tone light and encouraging. “it’ll help settle your stomach.”

you take a few bites, slowly, and she makes sure you take your medicine too, watching over you like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“thank you,” you whisper, feeling a mixture of exhaustion and gratitude. “i’m sorry this happened.”

kika shakes her head again, her thumb brushing against your cheek. “stop apologizing, y/n. i’m glad i’m here with you, okay? we’ll have plenty of other movie nights. i just want you to feel better.”

you nod, feeling a bit more at ease now, though the embarrassment still lingers at the edges of your mind.

the night didn’t go how you planned, but somehow, it feels like it brought you both closer. there’s a kind of intimacy in this moment, in the vulnerability, and you can feel how much she cares about you.

masterlist

[roc-haze]

Tis The Damn Season | ArthurTV

In which Arthur is your best friend.

————

Get on the plane. Fly. See your friends. See your ex. Forget why you broke up. Get back on the plane. Fly. Reopen the wound. Repeat.

Moving away to pursue your dreams felt like breaking free. Unbridled opportunity, a new city, separation from the family and friends who don’t quite get you. Ending a relationship around the same time as the move was weirdly liberating and ultimately inevitable. James, your partner, was happy to stay put and had no real desire to move on from the small town in which you grew up.

One of your good friends, Arthur, had experienced the highs and lows of leaving it all behind.

“Let me know when you’re home, and I’ll come over to debrief. The small town fatigue hits hard.” He grinned, embracing you in a huge hug at Heathrow Airport.

Two weeks later, here you were. The flight had gotten in around 8pm, jumping in a taxi and immediately heading straight for your flat. By 9pm, you found yourself laying on top of the duvet, candles lit across the room and a vinyl playing quietly in the background.

The sound of a key turning in the lock echoed throughout the flat, followed by rustling and a quiet “hi mate”. A few moments later, Arthur entered through the doorway and crossed the room to side beside you.

“I had a feeling I might find you like this.” Arthur put down the tote bag he was carrying, laying down next to you.

“What gave it away?” Your voice monotone, lacking any real emotion.

“The photos of James on your story. You looked a little too happy.” Arthur lay staring at the ceiling, not wanting to say too much.

“I think he has a way of pulling me back in,” you let out a sigh, eyes fixated on a mark on the ceiling. “It’s just nice to have someone know you so well… like I forget what it’s like to not have this urge to fill the silence or to make myself exciting to someone else.”

Silence fell over the room, Arthur allowing you the space to vent.

“It’s just fucked, Arthur. God forbid I have a desire to move away and better my life. I mean, look at me. I have a great, fulfilling career. Incredible friends. Am I not worth changing for? He’s acting as if I’m babe for the weekend.” Your voice trembled, eyes watering.

“Do you want an actual answer to that? Or would you prefer to vent?” Arthur asked cautiously.

“Both.” You finally shifted to look at Arthur.

“For as long as I’ve known you, you’ve always made space for him in your dreams. You’ve had a goal, a plan on how to get there and so far, you’ve done everything you’ve set your mind to. Some people are just content with what’s in front of them… James is one of them.” Arthur smiled softly.

“I just don’t understand. I don’t see him for months, we see each other again and it sounds like he’s reconsidered and is ready to move. Only for him to turn me down all over again.” Your hands made their way to your face, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

“That doesn’t mean you’re not worth it or you’re not enough to move for. It’s just an indicator that he’s not your forever person. The right person will be sure about you… they won’t have to reconsider. They’ll know.” God, Arthur was annoying when he was right.

“You’re probably right.” You sat up against the frame of the bed. “Please tell me you brought wine with you.”

Arthur followed suit, standing up to retrieve his bag. “Of course I did! I have some picky bits too.” He pulled two bottles of wine out of his bag, before holding up an array of snacks.

“You are a man after my own heart, Mr TV.” You gave him a small grin, rising to your feet.

“Shall we go commiserate on the couch? There’s a new episode of 90 Day Fiancé out.” Arthur handed you the wine, throwing an arm over your shoulder and directing you through to the living area. “Just out of curiosity.. do you think you’ll be dating anytime soon? George asked me to put in a good word.”

You laughed, jabbing the man lightly. “For George, I’m free any day of the week.”

——

Author’s note:

Won’t lie friends - this is based on my life at the minute oops. I am in my sad girl Taylor Swift era at the moment 🥲

Working on a Will fic! Please send through any requests 🫶

Deliberately did not pick a small town as I am not British hehe pls imagine for yourself xx