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httpknjoon · 7 months

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(re)starting over again | kth; 11

plot | Your four-year relationship with Taehyung was going well and strong. Until he was involved in a car accident, resulting to him losing some memories. By some, it means everything that happened five years ago. Things he remember? His friends, his bakeshop, and his ex girlfriend from the past. With that, you tried to keep up, restarting over again.

words | 2.8k

genres | fluff, angst, amnesia au

pairing | taehyung x reader

warning/s | -

note | AAAAND WE'RE BACK! it's been a month since the last update! consider this as a new season for mc and tae :)) u might find this chapter a little fast-paced or not idk.. let me know ur thoughts! enjoy reading <;3 ps. sorry for the errors!

main masterlist | series masterlist

A couple of years passed, two to be exact, and a lot of things happened. The bakery became more crowded. It was renovated and had a larger space instead of moving the entire bakery to another place. They began hiring extra help, usually part-time working students who used to be customers in the shop too.

Also, turns out that Jimin has a kid. Taehyung met Jihoon just a week after his best friend learned about his existence. Jihoon is a carbon copy of his dad, Taehyung thought. His eyes disappear when he smiles. Now, they have a little baker running around the kitchen usually on weekends.

Aside from those changes, Taehyung now lives in a studio apartment just a five-minute walk away from the bakery. He moved in just weeks after you left. The said apartment is not that big, just enough for him to rest in after work. Jimin commented that he treats that place like a hotel since Taehyung didn’t really personalize it to make the ambiance like a home. The whole place was plain, not even considered minimalist. Just plain. The walls were untouched. It was off-white when Taehyung came and it remains the same now. He didn’t really bother to invest anything in the place.

The house you two bought and lived in is still being taken care of. By him. Taehyung cleans up there once a week, just in case you reach out to visit home again and maybe talk about what to do with it. And when he feels like it, which is almost rare, he sleeps on the couch in the living room. He never really entered the guest room, which became your bedroom after the accident, except the time he got home after Jisoo and Namjoon’s wedding. That room was spotless, just like how you left it. The only things you left that night were on your vanity table; your house keys, the vintage pearl ring he bought you back in the flea market, and a folded paper.

The letter says, “Feel at home, this house is yours too. Paint the walls with the colors you like, buy new furniture, and fill the frames with new memories. Just please don’t sell it. I’ll try to reach out as soon as I can. For now, live the last years you missed.”

He never painted the walls with another color as he found the shade of blue that spreads around the house perfect. He never bought any furniture and still kept the same ones you had. He thought it fit the theme of the house and his preference. And yes, the picture frames show the same photos they originally had. It felt home that way for him. But he chose to move to the apartment because he always felt like he was missing something. The house is cozy and comfortable. But whenever he tries to lie on supposedly his bed, it feels empty. Once, he tried playing jazz music around the house, but it just got lonelier so he turned it off and just continued cleaning.

But he did try to keep up and look back at the things he forgot through his friends and the things he found at the house. Jimin, Namjoon, and sometimes Jisoo were patient with his questions. Jisoo, your best friend, was understandably distant from him at first after you went away. But she adds details to the stories Namjoon tells and later, became amiable with him. Jimin’s mom still looks after him and brings him food when she visits the city. There were a few times she mentioned Taehyung’s mother but he didn’t really care about her. So he ignores it.

“You know, you’re a handsome man. Don’t you have any lady?”

One of their common customer, a man in his seventies once asked him. It was not the first time someone asked him such a thing. He always shakes his head with a smile as an answer. It would lead later with an offer to meet someone they know. Taehyung would shyly and kindly decline these offers, saying he really doesn’t feel like dating for now. It’s true. The idea of him dating someone else felt wrong. It was like his own body rejected the idea as he felt uneasy with that thought.

“So, it’s that time of the year.”

Taehyung was pulling his third pan of cheesecake out of the hot oven with his oven gloves when he heard Ava, their longtime part-time staff, say that. She sounded amused but not surprised. He looked up and saw her leaning on the door frame with her arms crossed. She had a smug smile on her face.

“I swear, you should just declare this particular day as Cheesecake and Banana Bread Day just to make it official,” she added, teasing.

Taehyung looked at her, unimpressed, “It’s selling. In fact, my cheesecakes are one of our best sellers here… What are you doing here anyway? Go back to the front.”

He scolds her, she just rolled her eyes, unbothered. Ava was one of the students who knew Taehyung even before his accident. She went from being a loyal customer to a reliable staff of the shop. She has been enjoying the pastries in the shop ever since she was twelve and now, sixteen, she also enjoys getting into small banters with her older bosses. She is usually candid, and not shy to share her thoughts. Taehyung sees her as a little sister most time.

Given that she began working here after you left, Ava doesn’t really have an idea why Taehyung bakes a few batches of cheesecake and banana loaves on this specific date. She doesn’t know you and that you are celebrating your birthday today. Taehyung learned about that fact after his phone notified him weeks after you went. Since then, he has baked your favorites on your special day.

It’s the third time now. It’s probably a slim chance but he hoped to see you around the bakeshop, enjoying pastries. But so far, he hasn’t seen you around. In fact, he hadn’t even heard from you ever since that night. He thought he saw you a year ago in the subway when he came to Incheon to go sightseeing, but he lost you before he could take a second glance. He didn’t know where you moved since he respects your space but he wondered if you really moved that far. He wonders about you every now and then.

Jisoo posted a short clip in her Instagram Stories months ago. It’s just a clip of a long trail and he swore he heard you in the background noise of that clip, telling your best friend how tired you are from hiking. Then, the clip ended.

“Not because it’s best selling you would make a ton of it. It’s something about demand and supply– I don’t know,” she conceded, breaking Taehyung’s train of thought. “Anyway, I’m here because someone called on the phone, asking for you.”

Taehyung’s heart stopped for a second. His hopes almost blasted out of his soul but he tried to stay calm before asking Ava, “Who is it?”

“I don’t know. But it’s a woman. They said they want to specifically talk to you.” she replied, unaware that the man in front of him was holding his breath. She continued, “They are actually waiting on call right now.”

Taehyung almost sprinted to the front desk of the shop. Still in his mint green oven gloves, he reached for the telephone. His heart is beating fast while his gut is twisting tight. He paused when he realized he had nothing to say. He doesn’t know what to say if it’s you. Are you going to talk about the house? Should he greet you with Happy Birthday first and offer you your favorite cheesecake? Maybe you won’t like– Stop.

Taehyung took a deep breath before exhaling. He spoke, “Hello, this is Kim Taehyung, co-owner of The Sweet Spot. How can I help you?”

“Oh, hi.”

His heart dropped. Okay, relax. He told himself. It’s not you.

There were nights when Taehyung would find himself awake. And tonight is one of those nights. He just lay on his bed, staring at the blank ceiling. He always had trouble falling asleep, maybe a side effect of his accident. He doesn’t know anymore. But he knows that it makes his head go crazy with random thoughts when times like this happen. And now, he thought of something.

That’s when he picked up his phone and keys, along with his coat. He drove away from his apartment.

The bell above the door rang when he entered the convenience store to pick up a few beers and chips. His cold hands stayed in his coat’s pockets as he looked around the store, waiting for the clerk to scan his stuff. Just when the worker was about to say the prince, the bell clung again.

“No, wait. I’m just really hungry. Wait for me… Yes, I have money here.”

Everything went quiet and suddenly all that he could hear was that voice. Your voice. He’s sure of that. He looked back and saw a woman’s back going into one of the aisles. His heart raced once again. You’re here?

“Dude, you okay?” the tired clerk asked, looking at him with heavy bags under his eyes.

Taehyung looked at him, and broke out of his headspace, “Yeah, yeah. I’m sorry.”

He pulled out his cash and paid. He can still hear your voice like you were talking with someone on your phone.

“Do you want anything– Oh, the honey-butter chips I want ran out of stock.”

Taehyung looked at the chips in his hand. He looked at the clerk who also looked at him like they understood each other without saying anything. Taehyung placed the chip back on the counter.

“Just give this to the girl,” he whispered before turning his back.

He didn’t look back. A cool blow of wind brushed on his face when he walked out the door. For a second, he inhaled and exhaled again to calm his nerves. He got in his car, putting the pack of beer on the other seat. As he started the car, his eyes landed on the side mirror.

Yes, it’s you. Definitely.

You just walked out of the same store, still on your phone, as you walked away grinning with your honey butter chips. You walked on the other end of the pathwalk. Taehyung pursed his lips and drove away.

His lips remained sealed but his head was exploding with questions. That was the closest he had seen you since the night you said goodbye. How are you? Why are you in the city? Did you live around here? It can’t be. Jisoo told him you left the hospital you used to work at.

Instead of driving back to his apartment, Taehyung ended up parking in front of your deserted house. He had his beer with him as he turned the key on the doorknob. He stepped into the said home feeling colder even though he still hadn’t removed his coat. He placed the drink on the center table in the living room and plugged in the TV for background noise. He put on a random show, which happens to be FRIENDS.

Opening a can, he sat on the couch, pulling a couple of books he left under the same table. Photo albums and scrapbooks. You never told him such things exist in here, he just found them after cleaning around the house. It was personalized by you and him. He could tell by the design and handwritten captions.

Almost everything was documented through photos and other knick knacks like receipts from a movie you two saw together. Browsing through the pages of it, it felt like looking at other people’s relationships even though he was in the photos himself. In one of the photos, he saw himself with a camera. He didn’t even know he had one. He tried searching around the house for it but he never found it.

You had more solo portraits in the said books than him. He figured out why. Maybe he really loved capturing you as his subject. You looked the same in every picture: happy and in love. Most of your pictures were candid, taken without you knowing. Then, a handwritten date by him will be seen below it. Each photo was adorable. Some are just random ones. You were brushing your teeth or showing off your colorful scrubs (which was written in the caption: BOUGHT HER YELLOW DUCKIES SCRUBS I THINK SHE LIKES IT).

Taehyung spend his sleepless nights like this, looking back at what he missed. He read through articles before that the possibility of getting his memories back is a hit or miss. So he learned to just go on and maybe accept how things became. He tries to move forward at the same time he tries to look back. It’s quite confusing sometimes.

IT’S HER… I’M SURE

That was the caption in one photo of you dating just weeks after you two moved into this house. In the picture, your back was turned as you sat in front of your vanity table. You can be seen fixing your hair while looking at your reflection. Taehyung’s eyebrow raised with the caption. He wondered what it meant. He turned the page to the next one but was greeted with nothing but a blank page. Turns out, that was the most recent one.

“The main branch of their restaurant is somewhere in Incheon. I’ll send you the address after the call.”

Taehyung listened to Jimin through a loudspeaker call. His hair is still damp from a shower. Standing in front of the mirror, he compares two coats that would suit the rest of his outfit. He felt the need to look presentable tonight.

“You will meet the owner herself, Ashley. She said you can just introduce yourself to the host and he’ll lead you to your table… Ava kept the samples in the shop. She said she put them in different Tupperware so you can spot it right away.” Jimin instructed.

“Okay, okay.”

He heard his best friend sigh on the other line, “I’m sorry for the short notice, Tae. I totally forgot Jihoon will be staying with me tonight.”

Tonight, Taehyung will be meeting a special client. It’s the one who called a couple of weeks ago, during your birthday. it‘s a big restaurant that is planning to put the bakeshop’s products on their menu for dessert. Specifically, the cakes. The head chef was the one who brought up their product to the owner, whom he will meet now. Jimin initially agreed to meet the said client but his co-parenting schedule had some shifts. Just an hour ago, Taehyung learned he’d be the one meeting the client. It’s not like he had plans anyway. So, he immediately prepared himself.

After picking the clothes, Taehyung blow-dried and brushed his hair. His best friend sent the main address minutes later and so he left his apartment. He first drove by the shop, which closed a little earlier today. A lot of cakes were made for sample. It includes Jimin’s Carrot Cake, his own cheesecake, and six other more. Taehyung left with a brown bag of the samples.

His fingers tapped with the beat of the song playing on the radio as he drove his way to the restaurant. It was a peaceful night on the road.

This will be the first time Taehyung will be going back to Incheon since that time he went sightseeing. He stayed there for just three days before, it was days after his phone notified him about your supposedly fifth anniversary. His emotions were all over the place because of the aftermath and the demanding work in the bakeshop around that time. So he asked Jimin for a very short break. He still hasn’t got a car then so he took the subway throughout the whole time. It was during his last day there when he saw a glimpse of you in the crowded subways of that city. He remembered you were in your scrubs, your hair was cleanly kept in a low bun, and you were walking opposite of his direction. Then, he blinked. You were gone in the crowded place.

“Good evening, sir.”

Almost forty minutes later, Taehyung arrived at the restaurant, Starry Night. He was greeted by the host as he entered the elegant place. It has a great ambiance, romantic. It is a fine-dining restaurant and seems like a perfect spot for dinner dates.

He said his name when he was asked. And while the man looked down at his guest list, Taehyung’s eyes traveled around the place. And not even a minute in, his eyes stopped at someone who he felt had been staring at him.

His eyes widened at the sight. A stunning woman, clad in a black dress, stares back at him with surprise. His mouth ran dry, he had to gulp. Now, he’s sure. He’s sure.

It’s you.

taglist rules

RESTARTING OVER AGAIN TAGLIST [🔧🔨 ]

@iamkookiesforyou @aianloveseven @hoodalmighty @taebangtanbabe @kthsmoon @nooojaaam @hiimnothing @hiqhkey @annenakamura @taebangtanbabe @shin-ie @prlan @zzztaegizz @starlight-night0 @teddybeartaetae @http-fayeradise @kiwuki @tannies-luv @fuckthinking @betysotelo18 @honsoolgloss @aurorathi @paulaaa97 @satisfied18

PERMANENT TAGLIST

@dunixxd @cixrosie @jksjx @embrace-themagic @buttvi @starbtslove @missseoulite @vanntaesworld @kenqki @imajinthis @stopeatread @seolaquotes @greyrain23 @chimchimmarie @petalsofink @jayhope88 @moonchild @laylasbunbunny @nikkiordonez12 @ficluvr613 @misshale21

#bts angst #bts x reader #bts series #taehyung angst #taehyung fluff #taehyung x reader #taehyung au #taehyung series #bts amnesia #taehyung amnesia #bts established relationship au #taehyung established relationship #restarting over again kth

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wardenparker · 5 months

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Vampire Waltz - ch 9

Max Phillips x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

A mysterious inheritance, sprawling mansion, eccentric roommates, friendly bat, and coven of New England witches are the newest chapter of your life after being unceremoniously dumped and kicked out by your boyfriend. For Max, the biggest change in his life is you, and what exactly he's going to do about the fact that he is stuck living with you as long as his sire continues to punish him for that incident at his last office...

Rating: Mature, but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 10.6k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: deceased parents, cursing, food, blood and blood drinking, depictions and references to abusive relationships. Anxiety and trauma responses. Self-worth issues.* Family drama (past), revelations, family estrangement, the truth will always come out. Summary: The revelation of your grandfather's identity is not the only secret that will unfurl itself into your life. Notes: This week has just been another shitshow of utter chaos, but it is LOVELY chaos, so I hope you enjoy the chapter my darlings! As always, sorry for any errors I miss. I’m just an exhausted little nerd doing my best 🧡

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8

"How are you here?" And, more over, how are you real? But one thing at a time. The fuzzy edges of the memory that washed up on the shores of your dreams are still nudging at your waking mind.

He sighs sadly, his eyes shuttering slightly as he reflects on what has brought him back to you. “It was only because of your abuela’s sacrifice, muñequita. It was the only way to lift the spell. She loved you more than anything else on this earth.”

"I don't understand." Whether it's the fog of waking up so suddenly or the confusion of memories and dreams and daydreams all slamming together in your mind, you can't quite tell.

“I am your grandfather.” He tells you with a charming grin. “Some call me ‘The Thief’, since it has been years since anyone but the people in this house have known my name. But you always called me ‘Yayo’.” He bows slightly as he tells you his real name.

“Holy shit.” Max hisses, his eyes wide as he stares at his sire. The pieces are clicking into place, but even he is shocked at how close you really are to the man who had created him, who had saved him when he had been destroyed. How was it possible? A vampire cannot have children, at least that’s what he’s been told.

"But...I made you up." That's the rational half of your brain. The part of you that knows dreams aren't real, that fantasies can't come true through manifestation alone, and that love is a feeling rather than a universal force. But the other half of you? The witch who was born of witches who once conjured fire with nothing more than a thought and bare hands? That part of you knows he's telling the truth. "Didn't I?"

Again, another sigh. A habit he had picked up from his late soulmate. The human-ifcation as she liked to call it. “No. When your mother took you away, banned us from seeing you, the only way I could visit was through your dreams. Apparently the spell she cast had also made you forget about myself and your grandmother.”

Max is tense beside you and you cover his hand with one of yours, squeezing it as if it might reassure him that everything is okay. You can feel that intrinsically even if the logic for how you know that escapes you. "I think..." Like a rapid-fire collage on the inside of your mind, flashing of visits with your grandparents burn to life as very real memories instead of gauzy wisps of dreams. "I—um—" Looking between the two men, realizing that you're in bed and in your pajamas, you look back to Yayo with wide eyes. "You're not a witch, are you?" You ask, needing confirmation more than you actually need to be told. The memories are there in your mind, but they aren't clear.

Chuckling quietly, he shakes his head. “No witch.” He promises, letting his razor-sharp fangs descend from his gums to show off his true nature. “A vampire who was soulmates with a witch, just as my protégé.” His eyes shift to Max. “Now you understand why you were brought back.”

The next puzzle piece clicks into place in your mind and you gasp, looking over to Max with wide eyes. "Are you— I mean— did he?—" You sputter inelegantly, running out of breath all at once as you try to stutter out a coherent question. " Your sire is my...grandfather?"

“I didn’t know.” Max shakes his head in awe, apparently nearly speechless considering he knows that this vampire is older than any other that he knows.

"There is much to say." Yayo's eyes move between you on the bed, coming back to you after a few seconds and holding your gaze. Not in an entrancing way, but with the soft eyes of a doting grandfather. "We can talk anywhere you like, muñequita. But when you were a little girl you were very grouchy before breakfast."

"I should at least get dressed, I guess." For the second morning in a row, you are starting out disoriented and with an unexpected visitor. But this time you're not afraid. Curious? Oh yes. But there is none of that deep, intrinsic fear that there was yesterday.

“Then I shall meet you in the dining room.” Yayo bows and turns to disappear through the door like a ghost, completely silent as he moves.

It's icy cold around you when he sweeps out of the room without a sound, and you turn to Max in wide-eyed confusion. "Um..." you huff, shaking your head. You want to ask how he had possibly gotten in the house, but that seems like a moot point by now. "Good morning?"

“It seems like there is a lot going on.” He snorts slightly, reaching out to you to stroke your arms lightly. “How are you feeling?”

"Weird." The sense of safety that you have with Max is absolute, and you nearly collapse into his side to beg silently for more of his comforting touch. "I dreamt about him again last night. And it was a dream. But it felt so real..."

“I don’t think it was a dream, Queenie.” Max murmurs softly. “I think your grandfather made you relive a memory. He was here, all night.”

"He was here?" When your head pops up again you want to harrumph about having two vampires sit around watching you sleep, but as soon as you think it you think again about how safe that is. And how no one else in the world would probably feel as safe around creatures who drink blood to survive as you do. "Max?" Your head tilts slightly and you find his eyes. "Have you ever known your sire to lie?"

“Never lie.” Max tells you. “Sometimes he doesn’t tell you everything. He’s…enigmatic, but not a liar.”

"I remember my parents fighting," you tell him quietly, pressing a kiss to the tip of Max's shoulder before you push back the blankets to crawl out of bed and find some clean clothes. You're doubly glad that you took a bath last night. It had helped you relax and be sleepy for bed, but now it takes away the need to wash this morning. "That's what I dreamt about. My parents fighting with my grandparents." Right before you disappear around the corner into your dressing room, you turn to look at him with sadness in your eyes. "About me."

“Families sometimes don’t agree.” Max can understand that you are hurt by that. Zipping over to you to wrap his arms around you. “But you can find out why now. And….” He bites his lip. “You have family still.”

"One person." Though you nod against his chest, knowing that he's right as you hug him back. "It was too much to let me know both of them, I guess."

“He said something about a sacrifice.” Max doesn’t want to cloud your opinion before you talk to his sire. “I know that it was Cookie’s choice to stop taking his blood. He did not agree, but he could not stop her.”

"Allison said Cookie...abuela was trying to break some kind of spell. They were working together trying to combine their magic to make it happen but they couldn't." Realizing that you were technically brought here under false pretenses is odd, but you can't find it in yourself to be upset about it. Apparently, this situation is far more complicated than you knew.

“Then we should hear the unfiltered story from his mouth.” Max encourages, giving you a small smile as he reels from the developments of the morning.

"I guess that is what breakfast will be for." Looking at your closet, you look back to Max with determination. "You said your sire was a big deal in the vampire world, right? I should...try to dress up? Dress respectfully?"

“Dress in whatever makes you feel good.” He arches a brow. “This is your grandfather, important vampire or not. Your imaginary friend isn’t so imaginary anymore.”

"What's your favourite color?" It seems like a silly question, but in the face of so much chaos you're looking for an anchor. Something solid to hold onto in the storm. And if that thing is as simple as wearing your soulmate's favorite color, then that's what you're going to do.

Max smirks slightly as he leans against the door frame. “Blood red.” He teases for a second before he shakes his head. “No— actually, yellow is my favorite color.”

"Okay." Yellow...you have a few yellow things somewhere...you can definitely find something, at least. For now you reach up to hug Max as tightly as you can and exhale an unsteady breath. "I'm just going to get dressed and then I'll meet you downstairs?

“Of course, sweetheart.” Max understands that you might need a few moments to yourself. He nods and then disappears out of the doorway to dress himself and go down to the dining room.

The photograph of you and your mother that stares back from your vanity mirror is a tantalizing route back to those memories that still escape you. You find yourself staring at it for longer than you should, tracing the curve of your mother's face and seeing the way that Yayo's curls somehow had ended up on her head. How had you never noticed? Or were those curls just something you found so comforting that it simply hadn't occurred to you not to give them to your imaginary friend? But he isn't imaginary at all. He's so very real. And he is your family.

Sighing, you dig into your dresser until you come out with an amber colored cable knit sweater and a pair of dark brown corduroy pants. The comfortable ones that Derek hated because he said they weren't putting your best foot forward. Fuck that. You've always loved these pants. If comfort is a way to take back power, you are absolutely here for it.

Max is dressed in a flash, downstairs and waiting for you. His eyes fixed on the stairs as he tries not to ask his sire any questions that you might wish to know the answer to while he waits.

As quickly as you can, you head downstairs, only to find both men standing at the bottom of the grand staircase instead of sitting in the dining room as you expected them. "Waiting for me?" You ask, knowing the answer but feeling unduly self-conscious about it all of a sudden.

"I would wait to eternity for you muñequita." He promises, soft affection glowing as he steps forward and offers you his arm. While he understands the modern customs and traditions, he still prefers his way of being. Set in his ways about some things, and the opportunity to touch you is still a delightful experience. "Your breakfast is nearly ready, and I believe the tea service is already on the table."

“Mrs. Taylor is wonderful.” And you’ll never downplay that, especially not now that you realize your housekeeper has been his housekeeper for a very long time. Taking his arm instead of Max’s feels strange only in that you aren’t used to Yayo being solid. In all the thoughts you have of him, he is a figment of your imagination and not much more. Realizing that there is more at stake here is a lot to process.

“She is.” He won’t deny that in the least. “She took care of your mother when she was a child as well.” Since she had been with them for so long, Mrs. Taylor had known the entire history of the family.

“Mom…grew up here?” It’s only a few steps into the dining room, and Yayo pulls out your chair for you before sitting down on your right. Max takes the seat on your left and you note quietly that there are only three places set. Allison and Eddie must have gone back to Allison’s house last night after their date.

Settling beside you, his eyes are focused on you. “This house was built in 1852.” He explains. “When I found out that your grandmother was pregnant with your mother. She gave birth to her in this house.”

“What?” The math doesn’t add up. Not at all. The woman you remember — the woman you have photos of — was maybe in her mid-30s at the oldest. “Mom was…over a hundred and fifty years old?”

“Yes.” He knows it’s nearly impossible to imagine, but it’s true. “Your mother was half vampire, half witch and like me, nearly did not age.”

“Will you…” you sigh softly, and pour yourself a cup of tea with shaky hands. “Will you start at the beginning, Yayo? Please?”

Again, there is a carafe of blood, and he pours himself and Max a cup before he pick up the elegant tea cup and smiles slightly, remembering how he had bought this set for his Cookie. “When I was a young man, I was a thief.” He tells you, wanting you to understand the background of your family line. “The best. I was never caught save for one time.” He flashes a grin. “When I stole from the Devil.”

The Devil. For the moment — and for as unbelievable as the rest of the story seems to already be — you suspend your disbelief and nod. “How long ago was this?” You ask, trying politely to get a handle on exactly how old Yayo is.

"201 B.C." He answers with a small smirk. "I am quite a bit older than most would guess." Even Max's eyes widen dramatically, unaware that his sire was such an ancient vampire. "As punishment for my sin, the Devil decided to make an example of me." He takes a sip of his blood and pauses dramatically. "I was the first of our kind. The undead. The first vampire to walk the earth."

When you glance at Max it’s very clear that your soulmate fully believes the story that is being told, and you would never take Max for easily misled. More over, he knows a hell of a lot more about vampires than you do. So you sip your tea in contemplative silence for a long moment before sitting back in your chair again. “And you met Ms. Brown—Cookie—that is…abuela…in the 18th century?” The timeline here is mind boggling, but you’re trying your best here. To understand it all. To believe it.

“Part of my punishment was that I would walk without my soulmate for over a thousand years.” He snorts elegantly. “Apparently a few hundred extra years is no matter to the Devil.”

“And abuela was born a witch?” The genetic differences between witches and humans had dwindled over time to become very subtle. The powers they manifested were less powerful, too, and you regret now that you never listened more deeply to your father when he tried to tell you about your ancestors. Your mother’s intense desire to live a human life had overruled that sort of talk as you got older.

“Yes.” The proud gleam to the ancient vampire’s eyes reappears and he caresses the edge of the teacup. “Cookie was formidable. A powerful witch. When we met, she had come to the colonies because her own coven had cast her out. Scared of the power she possessed.”

“She was remarkable.” Mrs. Taylor appears in the doorway from the pantry with a plate of fixed breakfast for you, as the only warm blooded person at the table, and a bowl each of fruit and raw nuts for the vampires to pick at with their blood. “Good morning, sir. I am glad to see you have decided to leave the tower.”

“So that’s where you’ve been camped out.” Max snorts, smirking at his sire. “Dramatic as always.”

“Is that why Renee looked like she’d seen a ghost when I asked her about the locked room?” You thank Mrs. Taylor softly, as always, and inhale the beautiful scent of the last pieces of quiche from yesterday — one of your favourite leftovers that you had begged her to save — alongside a fresh salad, a few slices of bacon, and a warm croissant. She has outdone herself, as always.

Your grandfather clicks his tongue at Max, slightly annoyed at making it sound dramatic, even though it is. "I had a room next to Cookie's spell room. It was so that I would not bother her, but I could rest easier closer to her." He frowns slightly, still getting used to talking about his beloved in the past tense.

“Max is going to help me turn the teahouse into a little spell cottage.” The urge to be excited and proud for something you’re sharing with your soulmate is overwhelming, simply because after yesterday morning — and so many years before — there was not much to be excited about. And certainly no family to share anything with.

He smiles, a flash of fang and white teeth. No longer hiding them now that he's not just in your subconscious. "That is wonderful, muñequita." He agrees. "Every witch would have her own space. Your mother preferred her room, no other would do, when she would work on her magic."

“Her room was the one with the silver wallpaper, wasn’t it?” Somehow there is no doubt of that in your mind. The powerful feeling of belonging and comfort you had gotten from it when you first walked through the house now makes perfect sense, and you’re glad that you didn’t choose it for yourself. From now on you can go and sit in your mother’s room when you miss her, and that almost brings happy tears to your eyes. Because gods above, you have missed her so much.

"It was." He smiles as he realizes you must have felt a connection to the room. A presence. Since his daughter had passed, he had hoped that the feeling of her spirit - her early spirit - would remain. It and you were all he had left of his beloved child. "The portait hanging above the bed is your mother, nieta. She was twenty when it was painted."

“Abuela kept it close.” It isn’t even a question. You understand completely that that is how it ended up in the bedroom that once belonged to your grandmother and is now yours. “Was it for when she came out? Or…did Mom ever have anyone? Before Dad, I mean?” It’s a delicate topic but an important one, and something pulling at the back of your mind pushes you to ask it now instead of waiting.

“Your mother had a soulmate that she was with.” The memory makes him frown, his brow furrowing slightly.

“She did?” That is startling news, considering she always told you that she didn’t have one. But apparently there are a great many things your mother didn’t tell you.

"It is probably my greatest regret." There is a dramatic sigh for show from the vampire and he sets his tea cup down. "I, like any parent, made mistakes, muñequita." He admits. "Like Cookie and I, we believed that your mother was destined to be mated with a vampire. By the time she had come - which was a miracle - there was a large coven of witches and vampires. Despite my best efforts, there had been tensions between the two groups." He bites his lip. "Our nature, our bloodlust, craves the blood of a witch more than anything else." He reveals. "It's nearly ambrosia to a vampire and because of that, there had been some hard feelings among the covens because of our...less than responsible vampires."

"You believed she was meant to be mated with a vampire even though there were objections to vampire and witches interacting?" It isn't a judgement call, you're just trying to understand. Apparently your little suburban family with typical holiday dinners (and atypical holidays) was far less typical than you thought. "And Mom...didn't want that?"

"Vampire and witches are stronger together." He tells you quietly. "Especially for us. My line. We were the only ones capable of having children. Of creating a lineage." He sighs again. "She was in love with him. Emanuel was a smart, talented young man. Her mother and I were proud when we discovered they had matching marks."

"So what happened, then? Did something happen to him?" It must have, otherwise your father would have been a very different man. And Yayo wouldn't look so terribly sad.

“I made the mistake of changing him.” He murmurs quietly. “I didn’t do it without his permission. He wanted to become a vampire.” It’s almost as if he was imploring you to believe him.

"But you didn't talk to Mom first?" Though it is only a guess, it is a solid one, and you put your fork down for a moment. "It was a long time ago, Yayo. A very long time ago. I'm not judging you. I just want to understand what happened to my family."

“No, I did not talk to your mother.” He had hoped it would be seen as a gesture on Emanuel’s part. His acceptance of the family he had joined. “Unfortunately, your mother’s blood called to him. He tried to drink from her and she—” he winces. “She destroyed her soulmate.”

“Gods.” If you had been holding anything you would have dropped it instantly. Your mother killed her soulmate over bloodlust. That makes you stammer for a moment before all you can do is reach for Max’s hand and try not to shudder at the idea. You know Max would never hurt you. He’s proved that. He’s your port in the storm. “I’m so sorry, Yayo.”

"She blamed me. As she should have." He watches as you reach for Max and it soothes him in a way that he would never be able to explain. Your soulmate is a vampire and yet you are still drawn to him, comforted by him. "I had not yet learned how to bring one of my protégé back, so he was lost to us."

“Thank you for learning.” Your hand tightens around Max’s subtly, fingers flexing and keeping his grip. “For…making sure Max was here for me when I needed him.”

"Of course, muñequita." He nods his head seriously. "You should have met him years before and I cannot fix the past, but I could make sure you would meet him."

“And you have no idea how much that means to me.” He has no idea of what you’ve been through. What has gone on in your life between childhood and now. But at least you can say to his face that you’re grateful.

“I spent many years trying to find the way to fix my mistakes.” He murmurs quietly. “I am afforded the luxury of time, so I decided to put it to good use.”

“They did raise me a witch.” It’s the most reassurance you can give him, since your parents did not give you even a hint of the reality of vampires in the world. They had taught you magic, yes, but you had never had a real talent for spell work. “I’m sorry to ask you all of these things all at once. I just…I guess I don’t understand why we haven’t been in contact since the accident?” Allison had told you something about helping Cookie break a powerful spell, and that that was why she chose to stop drinking Yayo’s blood. But you still don’t quite understand.

“Your mother, while she wished to be human,” he sighs again. “Was a powerful witch. Some of her own talents far surpassing even her mother’s.” He picks up a few of the nuts and rolls them around in his hand. “There is a spell, a protective barrier, that would keep anyone away until the blood price has been paid.” He stares at you solemnly. “Death.”

“She really didn’t want me involved in all of this…” Something which is both stunning and rather appalling to you, considering coming to Newport might truly have saved your life. Who knows what might have happened to you if you had had to live in your car in Tennessee. Knowing that your sweet, steadfast mother was angry enough with her parents to separate you for life is daunting.

“Your mother…” he doesn’t wish to speak ill of the dead, and especially of the daughter that he had loved for centuries and will continue to love until he is destroyed. “Was very much human in the fact that she was not infallible, none of us are.” He doesn’t wish for you to hold a grudge against her, even as he tries to explain things. “I pushed too hard and tried to see you again after that last memory I showed you. That was when she cast the spell.”

“A spell that kept you and abuela away…and made me think that I made you up?” That is a remarkably impressive spell, you will admit it freely. Your mother’s abilities must have been far greater than you could ever have dreamed.

“Yes.” He bites his lip. “It was one that took us a long time to even figure out what she had used and even longer to discover the key to breaking it.” He reaches out and touches your hand. “Your abuela left you a letter, in case these truths ever came to light.”

“I would like to read it. If it’s not too much trouble.” A few of Cookie’s own words might be wonderful, if you’re honest. Though you do already feel the fullness in your mind off memories beginning to resettle now that you realize they are memories and not only your imagination. “It…doesn’t have to do this moment. It will take some time to process all of this.”

“Whenever you feel like it.” He promises, smiling indulgently at you. “I will have them placed in your room for when you are ready.”

“I’m…” There isn’t technically any reason to feel this way, but you still squeeze his cold hand gently. “I’m sorry we were apart so long.”

“Muñequita, do not feel guilty.” He chides softly, aware of that expression on your face. “It is I who am the guilty one. You have suffered for so long because I could not find you. I could not reach you.”

“It isn’t your fault that I was in a bad situation. Or Max’s either.” Acutely aware that Max views himself as responsible for that entire situation because he had been expelled that night, you won’t hear of it for even a second. “It seems like this is a new beginning for all of us.” New, aside from the specter of your ex-boyfriend that now hangs over Newport.

“Though I hear you had a visitor yesterday.” Your grandfather’s youthfully middle aged face drops unhappily and his eyes darken fiercely.

“I—” Mistaking his displeasure for anger directed at you, your eyes stop to the table instantly. “He was not invited,” you defend immediately, not wanting anyone to get in trouble on your account.

He pauses when he realizes that you think he is upset at you. “Yes, this…Derek will be dealt with.” He promises you. “Although I do not understand why you will not let your soulmate kill him.”

“Because I don’t believe that murder is ever the answer. Regardless of the question.” Suffering, pain, death — none of it. You’ve lived several lifetimes of all that hurt and you would be happy to never have another second of it near you.

“Kind and empathetic.” He hums, not displeased with the idea at all. “I will promise you this—” he taps your hand gently. “If he harms you again, nothing on this earth or in hell will protect him from me.” It’s not a threat, it’s a promise. A pact to repay every hurt he has ever bestowed upon you tenfold.

“I will say if I am hurt or not.” That is the bargain you will make. To make your grandfather feel as though the door is open, though you need intend to go through it.

His eyes narrow for a moment in contemplation and he nods. “Agreeable.” He decides.

******

For the rest of your meal, he answers your questions, never shying away from the answers and it surprises Max. His sire has always been elusive at times, and yet, he is very succinct with you. Perhaps it is because of the want to keep you close.

After he leaves you, your grandfather goes back to the tower. The locked room beyond Cookie’s potion room now opened. The mahogany box retrieved from a shelf and his fingers brush over the inlaid gold. The letters are inside. Lovingly preserved for you. His soulmate had taken to writing you at least once a week since deciding that she would sacrifice herself to break what she viewed as a curse. Her thoughts, hopes, memories all immortalized in ink, her familiar script beautiful as he opens the box and lifts a letter to his nose, inhaling the scent of her perfume. “You would have loved her, Cookie.” He murmurs sadly. “She’s stronger than all of us.”

******

The cadence of his footsteps is unfamiliar, and nearly nonexistent, but you know it’s him coming into the library a few minutes after breakfast has ended without ever having to look up. Mrs. Taylor has left menus for you to approve and Max is outside at the teahouse with Mr. Taylor — and Renee is altogether too bright and sunshiny for such a quiet entrance. But when Yayo appears holding a beautifully and intricately carved box in his hands, the arrival is near-silent and solemn.

“I had considered leaving these in your rooms.” He admits quietly, his voice low and soothing like it always is. “But then, I did not know if you would want that.”

“Would you…” you push the tray of menus aside, knowing that Mrs. Taylor won’t object to getting them later today. Not when these letters are so important. “Want to sit with me? While I read some?”

“I would be delighted.” Silently and much faster than Max, he moves over to you with the box.

The letter box is lacquered mahogany, trimmed in gilded dragons done after the Chinese style in what you now know intimately as chinoiserie — a Gilded Age specialty. It’s yet one more thing in this house that someone else would sell for a fortune at auction and instead you cling to it desperately as a connection to your family’s past. The key that he has left resting on top fits neatly into the lock and you open the box with a small smile as you bite your lip in concentration. The box is very old, after all, and delicate. What’s inside, though? Dozens of letters. Some thick and some thin. All stamped with blood red wax and addressed to you. “There’s…so many of them…”

“My late soulmate was a woman who loved to write letters.” He admits, his smile wistful. “There is a trunk of letters she had written to your mother while we were…estranged.” He reveals. “At one point after learning of her death, she had thought to burn them all, but could not.”

“The accident wasn’t easy for anyone,” you admit, glad to see him pull up a chair beside the large library desk with you instead of pacing anxiously or giving you distance. There has been so much distance for so long — all you want now is to keep him close. “I almost withdrew my place in college and just stayed closed up in the house. But I knew they wouldn’t have wanted that.”

“No, they wouldn’t have.” As much as he regrets not being there for you, he admires your courage. You might not think so, but you have been extremely strong-willed through the last ten years.

“And these are…all for me?” It seems incredible to you, that anyone would have spent so much time and effort just thinking of you, but the reality of things has been so different than what you thought they were for your entire life that it bears a sort of…reinspection.

“Yes.” He smiles at the box. “She would sit at her writing desk and talk to me about you. Wondering what you were like, how you were doing.”

“What was your favorite thing to imagine?” There is no way they could have guessed the truth, and that is your comfort. That you hope they never feared for you.

“You used to love to dance.” Your grandfather hums. “We spent hours dancing in your living room when you were small. We used to imagine you dancing. Laughing as you were guided along the dance floor.”

“I stopped for a long time.” You admit, not ashamed of the fact although you’re ashamed of the reason. It’s just what happened. It was your life for many years. “But I’ve started again…because of Max.”

“That’s brilliant.” His eyes sparkle in delight and his lips quirk up in a pleased smile. “You were so happy to learn when you were just a baby.”

“I loved ballet.” The slipper blanket still in your room is proof enough of that, and you smile. “But I do love ballroom more. And Max did danced competitively in college. It’s…honestly so nice to be able to share that with him.”

“It was my rule for the school that all students must take an elective that was creative.” He tells you with a dramatic flip of his hand. “I think it appealed to him because I was teaching the class and your soulmate is a bit of a suck up.”

“So you teach, then?” Ignoring the comment about Max — because you used to be a little bit of a suck up in dance class, too — you leave the letter chest closed and focus on Yayo. “In Romania?”

“That is how I discovered your soulmate, Muñequita.” He hums. “When I saw the birthmark, a mark I would know anywhere, I knew. I knew I had to take him under my wing.”

“I’m so grateful that you did.” If not for Yayo, who knows who Max’s sire would have been? Who knows how you ever would have found him again?

“I made mistakes with him as well.” He can admit that, flashing a fangy smile. “I let him get too arrogant. But he has learned his lesson.”

“According to him, he was already arrogant,” you tell your grandfather. “But he says that his attitude has changed enormously since you brought him back.”

“It has.” He agrees with Max’s assessment of himself completely. “This house, his stay here has been good for him.”

“This house has been good for me, too.” Yesterday morning notwithstanding, of course.

“Of course it has.” To imagine anything else would be unbelievable. “Despite your mother’s ill feelings, I had this house built to be a refuge, a haven, if you will.”

“Mom didn’t like having her hand forced. I didn’t understand it then, but I do as I get older.” It makes you shrug, though, not wanting to start an argument with your grandfather. “But this house has certainly been a haven for me. So thank you.”

“If I could have done things differently, I would have.” He admits quietly. “I would have bitten my tongue and realized my daughter’s dreams for life weren’t mine for her.”

“Regretting and wishing can’t bring them back,” you murmur, voice finding the same tenor as his. “If it could, we would have had my parents back immediately.”

“You are right.” He reaches out and pats your hand. “You are as wise as you are beautiful.”

“I have had a lot of time to think it over. Not as much as you, of course, but…” A slight shrug of your shoulders comes as your hand runs over the box in front of you again. “There is so much I would say to my mother if I could see her again.”

His smile turned mysterious and he hums. “Think of what you would say to her, Muñequita. Never forget it.”

“I wish she could meet Max.” The thought had already occurred to you more than once, and as much as it hurts you also have to believe that she’s watching over you with your father beside her. “I think they would enjoy teasing each other.”

“She had a robust sense of humor.” He chuckles. “Perhaps one day you will know what she thinks.”

“It would be too wonderful for words, I think.” Dwelling on it for too long threatens to drown you in a wave of sadness, and your expression flickers — faltering slightly. “But I can dream.”

Sensing that you might want some space, he pats your hand again and stands. “I think I will go have Mrs. Taylor bring you up a pot of tea while you go through your abuela’s letters.” He decides.

“Thank you, Yayo.” Your hand catches his, squeezing his fingers tight for a moment before letting it go again. “For everything.”

“It is my pleasure and my duty.” He nods and bows slightly before disappearing from sight.

The box in front of you is full to bursting, and when you open the lid it is clear that some letters consist of a single page while some are self-contained novelas. They seem to be stacked in order of writing, but not with any semblance of order in the time between each letter. Selecting the first — a single sheet neatly folded, waxed, and dated — you carefully slip the seal and open the paper.

My Darling Girl— It has been a month and a week since we visited you last, making today your ninth birthday. I hope it is joyful, sweetheart, and that you know how very dearly your grandfather and I love you. When we see you again we will bring your gift and heaps of books, and your grandfather will dance with you until you are too exhausted even to laugh. And it will do my heart so much good to see you both reunited. You are the magic of our hearts, darling, and always will be. But in case this letter is only the first of many you will not see until you are a grown woman, know that we are thinking of you and missing you every day. And that we are so proud of you, no matter what path you choose each day. Happy birthday, darling girl. We love you. Granny Cookie

The heavy vellum paper is quite old, the scrawling, looping handwriting a work of art. Cookie had whimsically decided that your letters would be written with a quill, like she would have before. Making it a labor of love.

There are so many that it seems daunting, and something tells you not to read them in order but that might just be a response to how many there are. You’re still toying with the box, though, when Mrs. Taylor appears in the doorway with a tea tray.

“Your grandfather said you might enjoy some tea while you read.” She smiles as she walks inside. “I took the liberty of making Cookie’s favorite tea for you.”

“You’ve known the entire time.” Far from being angry or accusatory, there is awe in your voice. Her loyalty and steadfastness to your grandparents is astonishing.

“I have.” She doesn’t apologize, her smile softening slightly. “It has been hard not to mention your mother, since you look so like her.”

The tea tray she sets down on the desk beside you is sparse, but Mrs. Taylor never brings * only* tea. There is a plate of scones today, with jam and butter. “Did you ever meet me before?” You ask cautiously, unsure if you had ever even been to this house as a child or if the housekeeper had ever traveled with your grandparents. “When I was young?”

“We have met before.” She answers vaguely, a curious twist to her lips. “There was a time we spend quite a bit of time together.”

“I wish I could remember.” It must have been when you were just a baby, considering that first letter from your abuela was at your ninth birthday. “I wish I could remember this house. Or visiting here.”

“A side effect of the spell.” She murmurs quietly. “It’s as if this house never existed to you before now.”

“I knew my mother was powerful, but I guess I never really knew how much.” There were always signs of it growing up, and of course your father has considerable magic as well, but this is a level far beyond what you knew was possible. “But…I never knew she was half-vampire, either. I suppose there was quite a lot they kept from me.”

“Your mother…” she sighs softly, a sound just for you. It had been amazing learning how to do those things again when you don’t need to breathe. It conveys so much. “Always looked at the other side of the field and admired the grass there. Even though her side was perfectly lush.”

“She wanted to explore.” Even as young as you were when she died, you know that. “Explore new experiences and meet new people. The more and the more different, the better.”

“She had been that way for her entire life.” Mrs. Taylor hums, happy that she had never lost her spark. “She was the first of her social circle to wear pants when it was so terribly taboo.”

“I can see her doing that. Being a rabble rouser.” In fact, from alternative choices at bake sales to extra adventures on field trips, your mother was always ready for anything. For a long time, you had wanted to grow up to be just like her. Fearless.

“Despite that, she broke many hearts when her soulmate was found.” She tells you. “She had quite the number of gentleman callers before.”

“Dad always joked that he had to treat Mom like a princess because there would always be another guy who would if he didn’t.” Mostly those jokes had been to encourage you to look for someone who would treat you the same, but you hadn’t really understood that at the time. Now, you think it might be a big part of why your father might have approved of Max. “So I can see that.”

“That is true.” She agrees. “I did not get to know your father well, but he seemed like he was a good man. He loved your mother, that was obvious.”

“He did.” You nod, agreeing with that statement easily. “He loved her more than anything else in the world.”

“Then that is all that matters.” While she’s sure that her soulmate would have been amazing, she’s not lived for as long as she had without knowing that you don’t have to be a soulmate to love someone completely.

“They were wonderful together.” It warns a small, almost wistful sigh from you and you smile. “Completely wonderful.”

******

Max had not meant to leave you alone all day. After breakfast with his sire, he had gone off with Mr. Taylor to look at the Tea House. Looking had turned into doing and half the afternoon was gone before he realized. Strolling into the morning room, he grins when he finds you still reading letters, happy to see you enjoying yourself. Carefully handling the folded and wax sealed paper as if it were precious, because it is to you. “How many secrets did the old bird spill?”

“You’re never going to believe some of the stuff she wrote out for me.” Having moved from the library after tea to the window seat in the morning room, you’ve been basking in the near-sunset while you read uninterrupted. But now that Max is back inside? You shift to one side of the seat and sit up, making room for him to join you. “She wrote down as much as she could stand to, I think. Sometimes just little notes and sometimes pages upon pages.”

Max plops down next to you in a graceless flop that would have looks undignified by anyone else. He makes it look almost elegant in its casualness. “So it’s like a journal….in letters?” He asks curiously, peeking at the script of the one you are holding.

“Kind of.” You nod and shift closer to him, inhaling the scent of his cologne when he puts one arm around you. Since vampires don’t sweat, the only underlying scent is the intensely powerful sunscreen he wears everyday to keep from being affected by the sun. Enchanted, according to him. “Some of these are stories about my mom. Others are talking about powers she suspects I might have had, or would be able to develop. Others are just memories. Sometimes she even wrote down stories about her and Yayo.”

“Really?” His eyes widen and he playfully waggles his brows. “Don’t know if you should be reading those.” He teases.

“They’re not intimate stories.” You pinch Max with two fingers and laugh, feeling lighter this afternoon than you thought you would be able to. “They’re my grandparents.”

“Uhhhh, hate to tell you, babe…” Max grins even wider, happy you are laughing and smiling. “Grandparents fuck.” He snorts. “Otherwise there would be no parents to have the grandkids and make them grandparents.”

“Yes, they do.” The way you roll your eyes is just for show, playing along with his teasing. “But they don’t typically tell those stories to their twelve-year-old granddaughters.” The letter you happen open to be holding is on the thicker side, dated the summer you were twelve. “Usually.”

He snickers and shrugs. “It would be a lot cooler if they did.” He jokes. “Let the g-kids know how hip they were at one time.”

“I think I would have been horrified to hear that when I was twelve,” you tell him honestly. “I was a very innocent kid.”

“Very innocent, huh?” He leans in and kisses your cheek. “We’ll change that, Queenie.”

“I was an innocent kid.” The last word gets emphasis, and you tilt your head to kiss his lips as of that proves some sort of point. “I don’t think what we did the other night counts as innocent in the least.”

“Just a little harmless grinding.” His grin turns positively wicked. “It’ll be less innocent when my ‘no need to breathe’ face is planted in your pussy for hours on end until you can’t take another orgasm.”

It should be abundantly obvious from the shock on your face that you hadn’t yet put that puzzle together, and the heat in your cheeks radiates off you in waves. “Yep…” you manage to swallow finally and half-nod. “That will be…not innocent at all.”

The chuckle he gives is filthy, accompanied by a wink. “So I was thinking about another date tonight.”

"You were?" the suggestion lights you up immediately, although it is tinged with that unfortunate but real paranoia. "Did you have something in mind?"

“I know you love to dance, but I don’t want to be a one trick pony.” Max hums, leaning in against you. “So I thought we could be disgustingly cliché. There’s a pumpkin patch, with a corn maze and a ‘haunted hayride’.” He puts air quotes around the last portion. “They do all the cutesy shit and sell hot chocolate. I thought you would love it.”

“Are you going to protect me from all the jump scares and fake vampires?” It’s your own small brand of teasing, because even though you love horror movies as an adult there is something about jump scares in real life that is less fun and more anxiety-inducing. The one thing you do know, though, deep in your heart? Is that Max will protect you no matter what.

“Absolutely.” Max practically giggles. “Gotta show off so your little pussy throbs at what a strong, manly vamp I am.” He winks to show that he’s teasing, but he would protect you from anything.

“And you can smell it, so I can’t even pretend like it doesn’t affect me.” Which, admittedly, could be slightly embarrassing. But for some reason Max being so in tune with your emotions is a wicked turn on.

“You can pretend it doesn’t affect you at any time.” He hums. “Just because you’re turned on, doesn’t mean you are in the mood, sweetheart.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Although he does have a point, and you appreciate him acknowledging it out loud. “I was thinking more like…it’s harder to play innocent. Since I kind of have an inkling that you might enjoy that sort of thing.”

“Hmmmmm but I like when someone plays hard to get.” He admits with a grin. “Knowing they want me but making me chase is just as thrilling.”

“So this works for you perfectly then, I guess?” It’s one less thing to have on your mind, if he’s telling the truth. And Max has never given you any reason to think he would lie. “You probably love those great big doe eyes some girl have. The innocence and purity of it all.”

“I like your eyes.” He flirts shamelessly. “They are the prettiest I’ve ever gotten lost in.”

“I’m already yours, ya know.” Despite the protest, you absolutely melt in his arms and become a puddle against his chest. “You don’t have to flirt.”

“I want to flirt.” He promises. “Flirting is good for the body, mind and soul.” He announces. “It makes you feel good, makes you feel wanted and it makes you easier to kiss.” He teases, turning his head and kissing your nose.

“In that case?” You could not be more putty-like in his arms if he had been literally kneading your shoulders. “What time do you want to go out tonight? Because hay rides and pumpkins and chilly fall things with you sounds like a dream.”

“Six? Six-thirty?” He asks. “That way we still have plenty of daylight to pick out pumpkins? I know you will want one or two.”

“That’s perfect.” You would probably put a pumpkin or two in every room of the house if you could, but that sounds like a mess waiting to happen. “Do you want to sit with me for a little bit or do you have something you want to do before then?” It’s about a hour and a half away, and there are so many more letters from your grandmother to read. The box seems never ending. It might even be enchanted to hold extra, you can’t tell.

“I’m right here until we change,” he promises. “I’m thinking this will be our casual date. Leggings, boots, for you of course.”

“Maybe we can alternate?” It’s just a small idea, but knowing that he loves to dress up and make a splash and you aren’t typically as well dressed as he is lets you both have moments of fun and moments of relaxation. “Something fancy and something casual?”

“That sounds good to me, Queenie.” He flashes you a grin. “Can’t hurt and it’ll keep you from getting bored.”

“I have a feeling I’ll never be bored with you.” It’s just a feeling, but it’s right in the back of your mind and hovering over your heart, so it’s undeniable.

“It’s because I’m incredible.” He boasts, but it’s all just an act. His thigh is pressed against yours and he looks over at the letters. “Want to read me one? Or is it something you’d rather keep to yourself for now?”

“I think it’s safe to say that my family is your family…since my grandfather is literally your sire and all.” It does sort of call the structure of vampire families into question in your mind, but that is a detail you will ask Yayo about later on. “You can read the next one. That sounds nice.”

“You want me to read it to you?” He asks, brow raised at the thought. “I will.”

“I like your voice,” you admit sheepishly, sinking down in his arms a little in a rush of embarrassment. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“Oh no, you aren’t getting out of it now.” He teases, reaching into the box and selecting a letter. “Hmmmm, how does this one look?”

“Perfect.” Every time he shows such amusement or happiness at little compliments from you, you feel that same skip in your heart that you’re starting to think might become a permanent fixture in your life. Max never ceases to surprise you with his affection and it really is wonderful.

“Puuuuurrrrrfect.” He rolls his ‘r’ playfully as he slides a neatly manicured nail under the wax seal and breaks it. Stopping and shuddering before he looks over at you. “Did you feel that?”

“It’s just a little chilly in here.” You explain it away instinctively, not even realizing that a breeze would have no effect on Max whatsoever.

“Sppppooooooky.” He’s playing it up, but there had been a current to the air when he broke the seal on this letter. Clearing his through is purely perfunctory as he opens the stiff paper. “My darling Muñequita,” he begins and says the date.

This is a later letter, something from you were a teenager. Max must have gone deep into the box. You hum happily at that and snuggle into his side like a cat.

“You really are the cleverest witch I have seen in my time. And considering how old I truly am, that is saying something.” He tilts his head and glances up at you before looking back at the letter. “To think that the answer was right in front of us, just a few words difference is simply magical, pardon the pun.”

“Are you sure this one is addressed to me and not my mom?” Though the question is rhetorical, there is also a nugget of truth to it. You haven’t done any sort of remarkable magic in years.

“It says it’s to you.” He huffs, flipping it back over so you can see the way it’s addressed. “Hush.” He blows you a raspberry. “Take the compliments. Now where was I?” He scans the page again. “For centuries, we had just believed that it was a myth, as fanciful as that sounds. Time travel. Who would have believed H.G.Wells was a witch?”

“I’m sorry.” Sitting up ramrod straight in an instant, your eyes go wide. “Did you just say time travel?”

“Are you always this disruptive?” Max teases as he waves the letter at you. “It’s right here. Do you want to read it for yourself?”

“But time travel is impossible!” Managing to snatch the letter from his hand, you settle back in his arms with a furrowed brow and your two front teeth firmly biting down on your lower lip as you reread what he had just read out loud. “Who would have believed H.G. Wells was a witch? Of course, everyone know that magic, alchemy, and science are all the same thing. But not everyone knows how to harness it to emotion. But you are such a clever thing, we ought to have suspected that you would find a way.”

“Sounds like someone did something.” Max intones, his voice playful, but he’s impressed.

“I can’t imagine what. By the time this was written, they hadn’t been allowed to see me in more than six years.” Still, the pull of this particular letter is far too strong, and you turn back to it with curiosity. “It took us an embarrassingly long time to understand it fully, Muñequita, but once we did you cannot imagine how foolish we felt for not seeing it years before.”

“Wow...incredibly intriguing.” Max snorts, impatient as always. “Like- what did you do? I wanna know.”

"I'm disruptive and you're impatient," you tease, but you keep reading. "To know that you managed to visit us from your time is remarkable beyond words. And how clever you were not to let us know, to never have even given us a whiff. You have your Yayo's talent for keeping secrets, darling girl, and we are so proud of the power you have finally come to. We will keep the portrait you so graciously left with us in the house and I will display it proudly for all of my days, telling anyone who asks that my granddaughter has a warm and loving heart and a doting, charming husband."

“Husband?” His own eyes widen slightly and his lips curve into a slow grin. “Something I should know, Queenie?”

“At the moment you know exactly as much as I do.” Your hand is practically shaking with the letter in it, but the slightly smug, pleased grin on his face makes you huff out a laugh. “I have no idea!”

“Wellllllll, now we have a mystery to talk about.” Max chuckles. He knows that you don’t know, but it’s intriguing.

“If I had to guess?” Being the kind of little kid — and sometimes adult — that had dreamt yourself into every possible and impossible kind of situation, you avoid his eyes slightly when you shrug. “If this is true, then you must have been there, too. I wouldn’t call anybody else that, and depending on when we went to, dating doesn’t exist. It’s married or unmarried, and an unmarried woman has a hell of a lot more restrictions on how she can act than a married one.”

“That would be interesting.” He snorts and shrugs. “I promise I won’t demand my husbandly rights if you’re correct.”

“Maybe we’ll actually be married by the time it happens, who knows?” It’s such a ludicrous ides that you can’t really take it seriously in the first place, and you shrug. “Besides, it’s time travel, honey. It’s not true. It can’t be.”

“And vampires don’t exist.” Max reminds you with a grin. “It’s so unbelievable that you would go back in time to visit with your granny when your soulmate doesn’t have a pulse and drinks blood?”

He has, frustratingly, a very good point. So much so that it makes you pause with your mouth already half-open to a pithy reply and shut it again with a furrowed brow. “I guess…” you swallow a deep breath. “If I wear every going to visit anyone…”

“She would be the one to visit.” Max finishes for you. “I wonder when you visit her. Obviously you haven’t yet.”

“After Mom was born.” You can answer that easily, even if your voice is quiet. “Any time when Mom was young. I always wondered what she was like as a young woman…and she never liked to tell stories. I get why, now. How could she rephrase a story about the 1870s to make it sound like modern life?” The idea of seeing your mother again is painful it’s so sweet, and you sniffle quietly, burying your face in your free hand. “I miss her so much.”

“I know you do.” Max hums thoughtfully after a moment. “You can’t have gone to the past when she would remember it, would you? Otherwise, she might have done things differently in life, right?”

“I guess…it would have to have been long enough ago that she wouldn’t have a strong memory of me. Or at least that she would never make the connection.” It feels like such a weird thing to contemplate, but Max is looking down at you so intently that you find yourself just spinning in the idea. Trying to follow the thought all the way through. “And I certainly wouldn’t use my real name. It would be Dolly. Or Queenie.”

“When we time travel, don’t use your real name, got it.” He gives you a thumbs up and snorts playfully. “Can I have a code name too?”

“Sure.” If you do roll your eyes at him it’s all in good fun and teasing. “What do you want your code name to be? James Bond?”

“Bond.” He imitates with an English accent. “James Bond.” He laughs and shakes his head.

He is laughing, which has you giggling, and you shake your head at him in pure amusement. “I genuinely can’t tell if that’s a yes or no,” you tease.

“I would need something way cooler.” He huffs and smirks at you. “Something that is subtly acknowledging my sexual magmatism.”

“Bruno?” Just about anything would be silly, and you can’t resist his smirk anyway. “Should we call you Jean-Claude van Damme?”

He snorts and rolls his eyes. “Romania, not Austria, babe.”

“What would you like to be called?” What he wants is more important than anything, after all. At least, it is to you.

“I was just teasing, sweetheart.” He promises. “Call me Max, I promise it’ll be alright with me.”

"We won't ever need to worry about it." You're certain of that, somehow. Even with the evidence sitting right there in your hand.

“With this discovery, do you still want to go out?” He asks quietly. If you’d rather read more letters, he wouldn’t blame you.

“I think I need some time to adjust to the idea,” you admit, putting the letter down without finishing it. It’s taking up so much space in your mind that you feel as if you might explode. “Maybe I’ll shower before we go out? I know we said tonight is going to be casual but I still want to look nice for you.”

“Go shower, sweetheart.” He encourages you. “Or better yet, go soak in that claw foot tub.”

“Yeah?” It’s a very soothing idea, and you have to agree that it might do you a world of good. All the same, though, you don’t want to be too far from Max. “Are you going to go back out to the tea house?”

“No.” He can sense your unease, and he quickly decides that he will stay nearby. “I’m going to go see if my jeans still fit.” He jokes with a grin. “Haven’t worn them in a long time. No need to, until now.”

“I know you’ll be very handsome in whatever you choose.” It is touching, though, that he is dressing down for you. Because you know that his suits are his suits of armor.

“I know the leather jacket is what you’ll focus on.” He jokes, winking at you.

If you could stop yourself from blurting it out you would have, but your immediate reaction is an unapologetic: “You have a leather jacket?”

His eyes light up when you give yourself away and he nods. “Yep.” He hums, leaning in to you, crowding you slightly. “Black leather.”

“That…” When you swallow it’s slightly embarrassed but interested all the same. “That sounds nice.”

“Does it?” He rubs his hand down your arm. “That’s good. Maybe we’ll see how you look in it tonight when you get cold.”

The thought of being marked as his in any way makes you burn in the most unexpectedly lustful way, and you clear your throat before standing up. “I going to go take a cold bath.”

“You do that, sweetheart.” Max reaches out and pats your hip. “I’ll be here when you get out.” He pauses. “Better yet, I’ll be at your door when you’re ready.”

______

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My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Max Phillips #Max Phillips x you #Max Phillips x reader #Max Phillips x female reader #Max Phillips x f!reader #Eddie BtVS #Bloodsucking Bastards #soulmate au #mysterious inheritance #The Thief #Casillero del Diablo #magic #witch reader

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042502 · 18 days

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You Were The Only One // M. Sturniolo x Reader.

SYNOPSIS: Your boyfriend surprises you by going on vacation to the same country, place and hotel where you met. Everything was going great until one night you woke up in the early morning and couldn't find him in bed, shortly after you realize that he was not in the room at all, Somewhat worried you left the room you shared to ask about him, but you find a scene you never thought you would see, and you feel stupid because the signs were always in front of your face.

WARNINGS: Deception, physical violence, desperation, sadness, protagonist feels disgusted, resentment, memories of situations, breakup.

WORDS: 2572

NOTES: English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error. MASTERLIST!!

I still wonder how I couldn't realize it sooner.

The evidence was in front of me, but I always ignored them, and I tell myself in a way of consolation, that I was just in love.

Deeply in love with that man who taught me what love was, what happiness is and the pain that feeling it causes. But above all the pain.

I never thought I would discover it that way, much less in that place, it was our place, our secret of society and above all, the place where it all began, our first look, conversation, declaration.

That place was special for both of us. Or was it just for me? Because it didn't cost you much to damage it.

It was our place of promises, of showing each other love.

Why did you do it? Am I not enough? I never was and you always pretended?

Of all the places... Why did they choose this place? They couldn't have had a bit of respect for our relationship, they also had to do it there, where it all started, just a few meters from me...

I still remember it...

I go back to the room, I don't want to fall, my mind already has but my heart hasn't yet, it still trusts, it still believes in you.

But the images of how you made love to him like you did to me keep passing through my head and I can't stop them.

Did you ever love me? Or were they just false words that came from your lips.

I enter the room, I'm still in shock, I can't believe it, no you, you couldn't do this to me.

Do you still remember the meaning of the room where I am? This was our first time, it was your surprise.

“I want it to be special and better at the hotel where we met.”

It was your words, you had planned everything, the pretend mini vacation, the tickets that they had supposedly given you and that coincidentally their destination was Milan, Italy.

Our place, where our love began and where it would soon end. That was 3 years ago, now look at us.

How did we get to this?

Do you still remember our promises those nights where we swore our love to each other, where our love was felt on the surface, do you remember that?

Or do you not even think about that anymore?

I waited for you, I swear I did all night, but you didn't arrive until after 5 am, that's when I heard the door opening slowly, as if you didn't want me to realize that you didn't sleep with me.

You had to see your face, the face you made when you saw me sitting on the edge of the bed we shared, you looked me up and down to realize that I was wearing the same clothes as the night before.

I did the same as you, I looked at you, I looked at your feet, because as always, you love being barefoot, this was no exception, I followed your clothes, the red silk pajamas that look so good on you, the one that highlights the cinnamon color of your skin and finally your face.

Your jaw, so well marked and outlined, was tense, it followed your nose, I'm not going to deny it, I always liked it and it was the first thing I noticed when I met you, It was big but it coordinated perfectly with your face, there was no one to deny it, they followed your eyes, those where they once looked at me with love and warmth, those who gave me peace of mind, there is nothing of that anymore, I just observe how they looked at me with nervousness and fear, and where they gave me peace of mind, There is nothing now, only emptiness. Your hair continues, where I got tired of caressing and touching, where he sometimes grabbed me when we made love, now they are wet, Like you had recently gotten out of a shower, but the one in our room wasn't.

Lastly, it was your lips, those that every time I kissed became more addictive than the first time I tried them, now they were red and swollen with a small injury on one side.

It was the first time I felt disgust for you and everything that comes with you.

I looked down, I disgusted myself, I wanted a bath, I needed a bath urgent, my brain started flashing images of the times you made love to me after being with that person and How do I know? Easy, I start to think about the stupid excuses you gave me to justify the marks I left on you before doing it to me.

An idiot, that's what I was, when I fell for each of your excuses and deceptions. But that's what happened to me for being so in love and trusting in you.

"Have you been awake long?" you said, trying to sound relaxed.

You closed the door behind you and walked towards me, you wanted to kiss me, but I moved, making your lips not even touch my cheek. "What's going on?" And you still had the nerve to ask it.

I looked at you for a few more seconds, until the first tear, since I saw them, came out and ran down my entire right cheek. I tried to hide it as best I could.

"What happened to your lip?" I asked, ignoring your questions. You instantly placed your hand over your mouth and over the wound your long fingers, the ones that I loved so much to intertwine with mine.

"This... It's nothing, I accidentally bit myself..." I looked at you straight and you noticed it. "Are you going to tell me what happened to you?"

"Do you love me?" It may sound masochistic, but I wanted to hear your answer, and I don't know which will hurt more, the truth or the lie.

"What are you saying? Of course I love you, you are the woman of my life and with whom I am in love. What kind of question is that, honey..." My heart tightened, my head hurt and my mind screamed, lie.

Your answer resolved all my doubts, each one of them. I got out of bed and faced you, looked into your eyes one last time, and then walked around you and went directly to my suitcase.

We still had a week left in Italy, but I didn't want to be in this place anymore, I didn't want to be with you anymore. You followed my every movement, but you didn't get upset until you saw me putting my clothes into the suitcase.

"What are you doing?, Why do you keep your clothes? We're not leaving yet..." You spoke coming closer to me and grabbing my wrist to make me stop.

By then my face was wet because of my tears that I didn't know how to stop. I let go of your hold, your skin against mine at this moment, it burned. You looked at me confused and afraid, because of my reaction, well of course, I had never rejected you before, nor denied your touch, on the contrary, it was always well received.

But it was worse when you saw my face full of tears, I think you already got the idea.

"Since when?" I asked for.

"What thing? Baby, I don't understand you, What is happening? You worry me..." Your lie seems to have no end.

"Don't pretend Matthew"

"I really don't understand you, honey, what's going on?"

"Do not lie! Damn Matt, I already know it all..." I screamed, exploding at once.

"What do you know?" You asked me nervously.

"All Matthew, all..." I spoke exhausted. "Why didn't you tell me before? Why did you need to hide it from me and do this to me?"

"It's not what you think, I really love you, you're the love of my life, you have no idea how much I love you..." I interrupted you before you continued with your lies.

"Stop, don't continue..." The lump in my throat barely let me say a word. ""I can't believe it about you, I gave you everything, I thought I was doing well but I was wrong."

I walked to the nightstand and grabbed one of the one-way tickets that was in the drawer. This marked the departure in a week, but I was going to see if I can change it to leave as soon as possible.

I went and put it in my handbag, and started grabbing more of my clothes, this time putting them away in a mess, I wanted to leave quickly.

Matthew you watched my movements, realizing that I came with the last of my clothes, you began to take out everything I had already put in the suitcase.

"What are you doing?!" I yelled, pushing him to stop doing it.

"You're not going to leave..." You told me with a hoarse voice, on the verge of breaking. "You're not going to leave me, no no no, leave this suitcase where it was, and let's talk, you're not going to leave."

"What the fuck are you saying?, Of course I'm leaving, there's nothing left to talk about, everything has been said and proven..." I confronted you.

I started to put my returned clothes in the suitcase, you looked at me for a few minutes until I saw you take out your suitcase and also put your clothes away.

"What do you think you're doing?" I asked you.

"I'm going with you" It was the only thing you told me and you continued to keep your belongings.

"No! I'm going alone, you stay here with your lover and realize that I was never with you, as you already did." I told you.

You suddenly stand up and walk quickly towards me, furious and grabbing my wrists, You pushed me towards one of the wall of the room, leaving me cornered between her body and her.

"Do not say that again... I will not let you go" You spoke close to my lips in a way that makes me intimidate. "I'm not going to lose you, I won't..."

"Very late, you already did" I responded with tears wanting to come out of my eyes.

"No! Fuck, I did not do it" You tell me, searching my gaze. "I love you, don't you understand?"

"If you say that you love me so much. Why did you do this?" you stayed silent, Little by little the pressure on my wrists was released until they were released.

"I... I do not know... I..."

"Tell me Matt, You love her?" I ask you.

"I... I.. I'm sorry..." You answer me with a broken voice and crying. "But that doesn't mean I didn't love you, I still love you like the first time..."

"Goodbye Matthew, thanks for everything" tú You began to shake your head quickly, I saw the desperation in his eyes after those words. "Do you know what's the worst of all? That I did love you and you were the only one, while I was not the only one..."

"Don't say that... Please..." you spoke crying desperately.

I left you standing in the middle of the room, I walked to my suitcase with my heart beating a thousand per second and in deep pain. With the suitcase and the plane ticket in hand I walked to the door of the room, but before leaving, I wanted to say something to him.

"And Matt... Don't come back to look for me, I don't want to know anything about you anymore, please... I only ask that you respect that request, nothing more..." I asked you leaving the room.

"No, no! Do not ask me that, Ask me anything but that... I wouldn't stand it..." You tell me, approaching me.

"Just respect that, If you really loved me and wanted our relationship, do it..." I left the room at once.

I started to walk down the hallway to the elevator, but then I heard Matthew shouting, calling me..

"Please wait!" He started shouting in the hallway..

His screams made the door next to me open, revealing the last person I wanted to see today, He looked at me surprised to see me crying and with my suitcase in hand, He then turned his gaze to Matthew, who stopped his run when he exchanged glances with him.

"What's going on?" asked, trying to get closer to me, I instantly moved away, making him stop his action.

I looked at her, I looked at that girl who had practically become my best friend. How could he fail me like that? She knew how much she loved Matthew and she did it anyway. I had so many things to say to her but I couldn't, my throat had closed completely, I could only look at her.

Matthew finished approaching us and stood next to us. Then I looked at the two of them, and although it pains me to say it, they made a beautiful couple and that made my heart hurt twice as much. Maybe I was never enough and he can be.

I looked at them both, both Matthew and my best friend, the man I love most in my life and my best friend.

"They look good... I hope you are happy..." were my last words before running to the elevator and getting into it.

That was the last time I saw Matthew and my best friend. It's been a little over a year since I heard from them, nor they from me. After taking the plane without the love of my life, the first thing I did when I arrived was gather all my things and tell the owner that I would no longer need the apartment, and that in two days I would leave due to family problems. He accepted it and had told me to take my time, and that it was a shame because he had liked me.

When I went to reception I gave the message that if anyone looked for me to tell them that I had left, that no one lived in that place anymore, and it's a good thing I did it, since the next day Matthew appeared knocking on the same door.

"I know you're in, please come out and let's talk".

were his words. But I never left the apartment, on the contrary, I locked myself in my room and cried like a baby. He insisted for an hour and then had to leave at the request of the janitor and security.

"Tomorrow I will come back, I hope you will be there this time... I love you..."

I would have liked to know your reaction when you realized that that same day at dawn I had taken a plane to leave the country and did not plan to return for a long time.

Matthew, I thank you for teaching me what love was and the suffering that comes with feeling it.

Thanks to you I knew that people can't always love just one person, in a painful way I realized that I wasn't the only one in your heart.

But I want you to know that you, you were always the only one in mine.

NOTES: Remember to hit the heart and share it with your friends! Thanks for reading^^ If you want to be part of the taglist leave a comment!

TAGLIST: @luverboychris @alexandernvr @prisciliin @sturncakez @imwetforyourmom @hotreaderliin @tillies33ssss

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littlexscarletxwitch · 10 months

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── ༊*·˚⋆ 𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗴𝗮𝗺𝗲

paring: florence pugh x fem!reader

tag(s): fluff, based on endgame by taylor swift (you don't understand how much i'm loving this song), cute gf flo

warning(s): grammatical errors, unedited

word count: 2.2k

note: omg, it's finally here. I'm so sorry it took me sooo long, it just I was super busy. Was this inspire by Ms. Taylor Swift? Yes, yes it was. I really hope you guys like this one. I'm not a native english speaker, so please let me know about any sort of mistake. Love you all so much <3

note 2: guys, I'm currently reading 'Delilah Green doesnt' care' and it's giving me so many ideas for fics. So would any of you be interest in more mum!florence? Please let me know. Xoxo, M

requests are open! + check my rules here + masterlist <3

Your eyes were closed, your head was on her chest listening to her steady heartbeats, a soft smile formed on your lips.

“Promise me this is forever,” you whispered.

You knew she was awake, she was doing the same thing as you, enjoying the moment, living in the present.

Your eyes found hers already looking at you.

“I promise,” she said, her smile mirroring yours.

Her lips found yours as if sealing the promise forever, but nothing ever lasts forever. The kiss that was first sweet and soft and filled with love, turned bitter, harsh and cold. You pulled back confusion written all over your face.

You blink once then twice, and suddenly you were waking up on your bed, alone. You cursed yourself at the stupid memory. It was so pathetic to still think about Florence that way. You two were history, long forgotten, just a memory of your adolescence.

You shook your head, trying to wake up your foggy brain from the nap you had taken. And decided to get some work done as a way to clear your head from your silly old fantasies.

You made yourself a cup of tea, grabbed your notebook and put your headphones on. You only had three more months to finish your second album. The deadline wasn’t much of a concern of yours, what bothered you was the lack of inspiration. Every lyric you would write down was just trash, it was as if you were missing something. So far you had only five finished songs, and you needed ten more to have the album finished.

You were humming, moving your head to the beat as you let your brain come up with the right words, but it felt as if you were stuck.

“I wanna be your endgame,” you sang to the beat. “I wanna be, I wanna be your… ” you threw your head back in annoyance, frustration getting the best out of you.

You had been sitting on the floor for the last hour, trying to finish this one song but you were not even close to it. You took a deep breath trying not to lose your shit. Your phone buzzed, the screen lighting up with a new notification and that took your whole attention.

“Y/n Y/l/n and Drew Starkey spotted out for dinner,” you read out loud and couldn’t help rolling your eyes at the link your manager and best friend had sent you.

According to the news, you were dating both Drew Starkey and Joe Keery. You also almost got engaged the week before to Rudy Pankow, but apparently cheated on him with Maya Hawke. You knew better than to actually pay attention to fake news, but you couldn’t help to. After all that was now your life, the life of a startpop in the making, so much for a boring Oxford kid.

Your reputation precedes you, in rumours you were knee-deep. But there was nothing you could do about it. Exhausted from your social life and the poor lack of motivation to do the one thing you loved the most, you decided to go out on a walk, hoping it would help to clear your thoughts about both the fake news and Florence, who you tried to ignore from thinking of. But ever since that dream you found yourself thinking about her more often.

You knew she was as famous as you were, maybe even more. You had to admit to yourself that some nights you found some kind of comfort in her movies, watching her cute pouty face, the one she was most known for.

She was your first love, she taught you how to love, what it was to be loved. Of course it wasn’t easy to forget about her, even after all these years, some part of you still craved her love. It wasn’t that you didn’t love each other when you both decided to go separate ways, it was because things weren’t so simple anymore. You two weren’t just two teenargs in love, you were slowly becoming adults. She had booked roles and you were making your way into the music industry.

And without the two of you knowing you two just drifted apart, the two of you too caught up in your careers. But you loved her, so you decided to let her go, hoping and praying to the universe that maybe she would come back to you one day.

Your thoughts were interrupted as you opened the door to your local cafe and someone bumped into you.

“Sorry, I wasn’t… “ but you stopped cold once you saw the strangers eyes.

“Y/n?” she asked, her voice as soft and raspy as you remembered. “What are you doing here?” a smile formed on her face, as if she was genuinely happy to see you.

You shook your head trying to clear out your mind, was Florence really in front of you? “I, um, I lived here,” you blinked once, twice and she was still there. “Just around the corner,” you added, cursing yourself for being so awkward. “What are you doing here?”

Was this a sign of the universe? Have your prayers been answered?

“Visiting my family,” right her family, you thought. “Well, not just that, I’m also working,” she scratched the back of her neck. “I was actually hoping to see you, too.”

“Really?” that had to mean something, the universe couldn't be messing around with you this cruelly. Right?

“Yeah, I have, um… I have been thinking about you.” she smiled at you and you felt the butterflies in your stomach. “I think we should talk.”

“I, um,” what were you supposed to say? Were you willingly going to agree to spend time with the love of your life as if the two of you were going to be just friends? What was that supposed to mean?

“Yeah, sure. When are you free?” you finally agree.

You mentally checked your schedule, you were supposed to finish your songs but taking a break wouldn’t hurt anybody. Plus, you were going to get your coffee and get back to it right away.

“Um, what about now?”

Shit, you thought. She wasn’t going to give you any time to prepare yourself. Well, you better get into it, rip it off like a band aid.

“Okay, I was going to get a coffee and then we can…”

“Yeah, yeah, take your time. I’m going to find us a table.”

You order your coffee while mentally preparing for the conversation the two of you were going to have. What was she on about? Was it really a big coincidence? Did the universe put her in our path for some reason? You shook your head, you needed to stop thinking about the universe’s way of working for a second.

They handed you your coffee and now you had no more excuses to avoid her, not that you wanted to. Some part of you long to be near her, but you were scared of what this whole thing was about.

“So, um, what’s up with Drew?” she tried to pretend she didn’t care but was actually dying to know if you were actually dating him, not that you noticed it.

“Who?”

“Drew? Starkey?”

“Oh, yeah, Drew,” you chuckled, silly you for forgetting your own friend. “He’s just a friend, a really good friend,” was it your imagination or did she just let out a breath of relief. “What about Ashley?” you asked before taking a sip of your coffee.

She smiled at you, “She’s also a really good friend.”

“So, um…”

“Listen, Y/n…”

The both of you chuckled.

“You go first, Flo”

That nickname. It was stupid because everyone who knew her would call her ‘Flo’, but coming out of your lips felt different. She had missed hearing her name on your lips, she had missed you.

“I’m just going to say it, okay?” you only nodded. “I lied earlier, I’m not here for work or visiting my family. I came here to find you,” your lips parted in disbelief. “Ever since we broke things apart, I had been feeling like something was missing, Y/n. And I recently realised it was you. Well, I saw the article about you getting married and all I could think of was that something wasn’t right.”

“Florence I…”

“No, please let me finish,” she cut you off. “I understand that we are strangers to each other, but I would love to get to know you once again. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, it can be like a fresh start. I just really need you in my life, Y/n. I miss my best friend.”

You took another sip of your coffee, stealing time before giving her an answer. The truth was you already knew what you wanted, you knew it the moment you sat at the table, but you wanted to mess with her just a little bit.

You put your cup down, and finally your eyes found hers, “I would like nothing more.”

[...]

Ever since that day, Florence and you had been spending everyday together. Catching up with each other and going back to old habits.

The more you hang out with her, the more you could feel your old feeling coming back. But you didn’t want to rush things just to ruin them again. But one particular afternoon you couldn't hold back anymore and decided to do something about it.

She had fallen asleep 30 minutes ago, you chuckled as you realised her current state because she had picked out the movie but turns out she was more tired than what she let you see.

You headed to your small studio and decided to get back to the song you were working on before running into Florence. You knew exactly what you wanted to say, having found your new inspiration a few weeks ago.

You pressed play and the music started playing, you already had a few things written down in your notebook you just needed to put all your ideas together.

You were so lost and immersed in finishing the song, going at it back and forth, changing some lyrics, singing some ideas, writing and crossing out some bits, that you didn’t realise someone was watching you just when you were about to finish.

You had already recorded the whole song and were just checking it out when Florence leaned in the frame door.

Florence smiled as she listened to your sweet voice. She wondered who this song was about.

Knew her when I was young, reconnected when we were little bit older

Both sprung, I got issues and chips on both of my shoulders

She didn’t want to get her hopes up.

Reputation precedes me, in rumors, I'm knee-deep

The truth is, it’s easier to ignore it, believe me

She felt her heart shrinking in her chest.

Even when we'd argue, we'd not do it for long

And you understand the good and bad end up in the song

She listened closely to the song as you hummed to it.

For all your beautiful traits and the way you do it with ease

For all my flaws, paranoia, and insecurities

Her heartbeat and body temperature were rising.

I've made mistakes and made some choices, that's hard to deny

After the storm, something was born on the 4th of July

I've passed days without fun, this end game is the one

With four words on the tip of my tongue, I'll never say it

She couldn't take it any longer.

“I like it,” she said, getting closer to where you were sitting. “It’s catchy,” she said, trying to shake her feeling away. That song could be about anyone.

“I feel like something’s missing,” you scrunch your nose.

“Sing the corus to me, please,” she looked at you with her doe eyes and you swear you could have melted in that moment.

You shook your head with a smile on your face and compiled, “I wanna be your endgame, endgame,” you finished singing the chorus. “And then it goes. Big reputation, big reputation. Ooh, you and me, we got big reputations, ah,” you sang, trying to not look at Florence.

“You know, it sounds awfully familiar,” she teased, wanting nothing more than for it to be true.

“And you heard about me, ooh. I got some big enemies,” you kept on going.

“What are you trying to say, Y/n?” she kept on pushing you.

“Big reputation, big reputation. Ooh, you and me would be a big conversation, ah. And I heard about you, ooh. You like the bad ones, too,” you finished, trying to tell her that you were thinking exactly what she was thinking.

She was so close to you now, her knees brushing against yours, sending electricity throughout your body. You could feel her hot breath on your lips.

“I want to…” she didn’t finish her sentence because you were already nodding and she smashed her lips to yours in a second.

You felt as if a wave of cold water was washing over you. Her lips felt both familiar and new at the same time. You felt at home as she wrapped her arm around your waist and her other hand cupped your cheek. You didn’t want to ever stop kissing her, but both you and her needed to breathe so ultimately pulled apart.

She rested her forehead on yours, both of her hands cupping your cheeks, caressing your skin with her fingertips.

“I wanna be your endgame,” you quietly sang to her.

She chuckled before kissing you again and again and again.

Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated! <3

-M

#florence pugh #florence pugh x reader #florence pugh x fem reader #florence pugh x y/n #florence pugh x you #florence pugh fluff #florence pugh imagine #littlexscarletxwitch's fic #Spotify #[🎧⊹♡] based on songs i love

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f1bordeaux · 9 months

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If You Cared (Part 5) | mv1

It's been years since you've indulged in a vacation. What better time is there than summer? Your family, the beach house in Italy-it seems perfect. But, for things to be just like good old times, your family needs to invite his. So of course you are having mixed feelings as the boy who broke your heart re-enters your life like nothing happened. Warnings: None Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader Word count: 2.3k Poetry style | Story style A/n: This is it! It's once again rushed because after tonight I wont have my laptop until late October and I really wanted to get this out. So forgive any errors please. I'll rewrite one day! Also, later on I'll write a sequel if you guys want me to because I love this story and the characters. Anyways, enjoy and to those of you who came along for the whole ride, I appreciate you more than you know<3 Cheers and I'll see ya in October! Part One|Part Two|Part Three|Part Four|Part Five

Once your last suitcase was in the trunk, you were ready to go.

One flight took off the following morning at 6. You were willing to sit in that small, grocery store sized airport for a few hours. Anything not to see or think about him. Right now, every room in the house was drowning in memories. You were suffocating.

“Y/n, come inside please.” Your mother begged. It was pouring down rain, and you were sitting on the patio just watching the droplets ricochet off the pool water. “You’ll catch a cold.”

“I don’t mind.” You said.

She sighed, a signal of her defeat. When you left from the charity dinner, taking your mothers rental car with you, nobody but Mia followed. About an hour later, they all pulled into the driveway. Nobody said a word as they walked through the front door to see a pile of suitcases lined up. Nobody dared to even cough as they watched you throw them all in the trunk in the pouring rain. You were done. You’d had enough. Elba was just as dead to you as he was.

Mia begged you to stay the rest of the week, saying that it was Max who should leave, but you couldn’t explain to her how every square inch of the beach house reminded you of his touch. The kitchen brought back memories of his small, butterfly kisses when you both cooked dinner or when his hand would rest on your thigh at the kitchen bar. The living room just reminded you of all the times you fell asleep in his arms during a movie and how he would carry you to your room. Your bedroom was the worst spot of them all. Your sheets still smelled like him, the mirror still displayed his reflection, his clothes were still on your floor.

“I need to go home.” Was all you could say to Mia as she begged you not to.

“Y/n?” The patio door slid open softly, but you didn’t bother looking. “Can we talk?”

“I don’t really feel like speaking to you.”

Luca didn’t sit next to you, he didn’t walk up to you or approach you. Instead, he stayed behind you, speaking to your back. Never before had you or either of your siblings had a situation like this. The three of you had always been close but this. Luca had really done it this time. You also had a little resentment for Mia, too. She’d known for a while and still let you fall head over heels for Max. Was it her fault? No, but she could have said something. She should have said something.

“I’m sorry, y/n.”

“Wow,” You scoffed. “Suddenly everything is all better! Me and Max are getting married tomorrow, want to be the ring bearer?”

“Y/n-”

“What was going through your mind, Luca? Hmm? Can I just ask you that?” You shook your head. It was hard to understand this whole situation.

“I didn’t think he’d take this seriously. I thought he’d say no and laugh it off.”

“But playing with my feelings in the first place was alright? Because you thought he’d say no it was alright?”

Luca fell silent. Obviously it wasn’t right, that much was known. But he didn’t know how to express how sorry he was, or how he didn’t think it would go this far. No matter what he said, you would come back and rebuttal his comment with something more emotional, something more meaningful. Luca wasn’t one with words, he never was and never would be. In this moment, he wished he was.

“Here.” He dropped five or six envelopes on the table next to you. “Maybe you wont forgive me, but this wasn’t his idea.”

Before you could say anything, he was inside, closing the glass door behind him. You looked at the off-white envelopes. They had your family's address on them, but your name was clearly written on there. The return address? The Verstappen house. Not Sophie and Victoria’s house, but the childhood house that Max and his father lived in.

Your heart sank.

After finding the oldest one, dating back to only a few months after he broke up with you, you slid it open and pulled out the paper. A photo fell out, alongside a dried up, flattened rose petal.

Y/n.

I miss you. It might sound selfish to say, but I really do.

I don’t think I ever realized how important love could be in life. I saw it as more of a form of entertainment rather than a necessity. I knew my feelings for you were real, I knew they were physical and emotional and everything in between, but I didn’t know how hard they’d be to get rid of. Leaving you hurt, it hurt so bad that I felt like I couldn’t breathe on my way home. But, I thought they’d go away once I was back with dad. I thought they’d be like a stomach ache or migraine. Like I said, though, they are much harder to get rid of than that. Seeing all the love that other drivers have at the track, seeing their girlfriends and moms and families hurts me. All I have is dad and, well, you know what that's like. I’ve realized that I need someone like you, someone I can laugh with, someone I can talk to, someone who will tell me it's ok and that I won't fail in life after a bad race. I need someone on my side, not someone who is only team Max when I win.

I think of you every time I race. I dedicate every win to you-and mom of course. In the photo I sent, I won my first F3 Grand Prix. It’s a huge step in the right direction and at this pace, I’m set to be the youngest F1 competitor if I can make the Toro Rosso team in a few weeks. I hope you’re there to see it.

I get it if you don't want to talk to me. I know I broke your heart and ruined the rest of your summer but please, if any drop of your feelings were real please write me back. I could use the support.

Love, Max.

Sure enough in the photo a young, 16 year old Max was hoisting a trophy in the air as champagne was sprayed on him. You picked up the rose petal and it crunched in your grasp. Where had these gone? Why didn’t you get any of them? You didn’t move out at sixteen, why didn’t you get them?

The other ones followed the same idea as the first; I miss you, I messed up, I’m making promising moves in my career, please answer my calls or reach out, I love you, Love, Max. And sure enough, every single one made you cry. Near the end of the last one, however, Max wrote;

Take this as my final goodbye. I hope you’re getting these but I’m not getting any response so maybe you’re not. I deserve this, I know. But, I was really hoping things would be different. I’m sorry for the pain I caused you, y/n. If I could take it back, I would.

Dad told me to stop wasting time writing silly letters that get no response, so I guess this is my last one. Hopefully we can reconnect someday. I hope you're watching me on TV. I hope that a piece of you still loves me, as selfish as it sounds. There will always be a place for you in my heart, always.

Goodbye, y/n. I’ve always loved you, and I always will.

Max.

Your hand came up to cup your mouth. These letters were similar to the ones up in your room. Max loved to write, and on your 15th and 16th birthday, he wrote you two beautiful letters that you said you’d cherish forever. You left them in Elba when he broke your heart.

Without even thinking, you stood up, turning on your heel so quickly you were afraid you’d fall. With the letters cradled in your arms, you ran inside. The house felt empty. Nobody was around except for-

“Mia-” You called out in between tears. “Where is-where are-Max, where is Max?”

“He left-”

“What?”

She nodded. “What’s wrong?”

“I need to talk to him. Where did he go?”

“There’s a ferry leaving in like, thirty minutes. He’s going to get on that.”

You shook your head, tossing the letters on the counter before running to the front door. You grabbed a pair of keys and darted through the rain as your sister called out your name. Max at least deserved a chance to explain himself, right? Maybe he was too prideful, too nervous, too scared to speak to you himself. That was alright. You’d just go to him.

The drive was long, you were afraid you’d miss the ferry. It left at five am, you assumed, and it was 4:48 when you pulled into the dock. He was probably already on the boat, no? He was probably already in his seat waiting for the departure to begin. That wouldn’t stop you.

Maybe fate was on your side, maybe it was meant to be. Whatever it was, Max was standing in line to load onto the boat, suitcase in hand. “Max!” You shouted. He was still in his suit, you were still in your dress. Neither of you looked as elegant as before, but it would be wrong to say you thought he looked bad.

He turned to look at you, his eyes wide when he saw who was calling your name. “Y/n?” Max turned out of line and walked near you.

In seconds your arms were around his shoulders, pulling him into a hug that took him a few beats to reciprocate. You then pulled away, looking him in the eyes as tears flooded yours. He was confused, taken aback, even. “We need to talk.”

“But I’m leaving-”

“Please stay.”

“I’m mad at you, don’t get me wrong.” You said, looking off into the distance. There was a small cafe near the dock that was open for breakfast. So, the two of you sat outside and drank tea whilst looking like complete lunatics.

“So why’d you come get me?” He asked. “You could have completely let me go.”

“What good would that do? I would just hate you forever and it would eat me alive. Just like it did last time.”

Max shrugged. “I don't think I deserve a second chance.”

“Luca gave me the letters you wrote me as a kid.”

Max turned pale. “What?”

“Yeah,” You nodded. “I never got them as a girl or trust me, I would have written you back-or texted you at least.”

“I know you never got them.”

Did you hear him correctly? He knew? In the last letter he assumed you didn’t get them. “How’d you know?”

Max looked at the sunrise that was touching the horizon. The sky looked beautiful. There were no clouds, only bright shades of reds and yellows, blues and purples. The water from the ocean reflected the scenery perfectly. He didn’t know how to answer your question. It would be embarrassing if he did. He never planned on you seeing those even though he sent them.

“I was writing your address wrong. I was one number off or something, so they all got sent back at once. I sent them back after fixing it, but I called Luca and told him not to let you get them.” He said in one breath, cheeks igniting with a blush. “I was too embarrassed.”

That's why you didn’t get them.

You were torn. If he really cared he wouldn’t have taken the bet, right? If he really cared, he would have let those letters get to you. What if this was just another elaborate part of his plan? You wanted to believe it, you wanted to see the truth in Max’s story, but you couldn’t trust him. You couldn’t read him as well as you once could. A piece of you was saying, shut up and take it, he's your dream man, and another piece of you was saying, do better.

“Did you ever really care about me?” You asked.

Max looked at you with wide eyes. “What?”

“This summer,” You reiterated. “Did you ever really care about me? Be honest with me.”

Without missing a beat he said, “I didn’t just care about you, I loved you. I don’t like to admit my feelings-mainly because I grew up in a house where feelings didn’t exist-but I couldn’t hide the love I have for you. I’ve never been able to hide it. Ask dad, mom or Vic.”

You sighed. “The scary part is, Max, even after all this, even after I found out one of the worst things, even after I felt used and objectified, I still want you. Every part of my body is screaming no, telling me to run and leave without turning back but one small, small sliver of me is begging to stay.”

Max leaned across the table, palm coming to cup your chin. He smiled softly, his breath dancing across your cheek. It felt refreshing. It felt like summer. Perhaps things would be ok. Perhaps things would always be ok.

“So stay.” He said. “I promise to love you, y/n. I will love only you.”

Your lips connected to his. It was a soft kiss, one that reminded you of your first. Did you know what was going to happen once he went back to racing and you went back to work? No. Did you know if he was your boyfriend now? No. Did you know if things were going to work out? No. But honestly, nothing in life is for certain. But damn, sitting in front of an italian coffee shop, watching the sun rise over the ocean with Max’s lips on yours felt nice.

You were excited for a lifetime of moments like these. All of them with your childhood boyfriend by your side.

And yeah, you did feel like you could call him that now. You could call Max whatever the hell you wanted to.

#f1 #formula 1 #f1 fanfic #f1 requests #f1 imagine #max verstappen #f1 angst #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen ff #max verstappen smut #verstappen x reader #verstappen ff #verstappen fanfic #verstappen #f1 x reader #formula one #red bull racing #f1 series

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glittervame · 2 months

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You're just like him

"You're a filthy cheater"

This post is going to be part of the Hogmarch Fandom challenge by @thatdammchickennugget check it out if you want to know more! I didn't proofread so sorry for the spelling errors or if it doesn't make any sense, love ya! <3

Oliver wood x Fem!Reader Warnings: Angst (No named person), Fred and George being little shits, Smut, this has basically no plot it's all over the place

The sun was setting, painting the sky a fiery orange as it dipped below the horizon. The air was thick with anticipation, and the stands were packed to the brim with students, all of them clad in their house colors. It was the final Quidditch match of the season, and the fate of the House Cup hung in the balance. Gryffindor and Slytherin, two of the most talented and determined teams in recent memory, were set to face off in what promised to be a brutal and intense battle.

As the players took to the pitch, Oliver and Y/n locked eyes for a brief moment. There was a flicker of something in their gaze, a mixture of determination, anger, and perhaps even a hint of desire. They knew that this match wasn't just about winning the House Cup; it was also about proving their worth to each other.

The game began with a blur of broomsticks and flying balls, both teams moving at breakneck speed. Oliver and Y/n circled each other like two snarling animals, the two captains waiting for the other to make a mistake. It wasn't long before the tension between them boiled over. During a tight turn, Oliver aggressively rammed into Y/n, sending her spiraling out of control. The crowd gasped as she careened toward the ground, but at the last moment, Oliver leaned forward on his broom, reaching out a hand.

Y/n snarled, baring her teeth, but grabbed onto Oliver's hand. The contact sent a jolt of electricity through her body, and for a brief moment, they were locked together. The crowd grew silent as they stared at the two captains, their eyes locked in a fierce battle of wills. Finally, with a jerk, Oliver pulled Y/n back onto her broom, and they continued the game.

But the tension between them only grew. Every time Oliver passed her, he'd throw her a venomous glare, daring her to try something. And every time Y/n would brush against him, she'd feel the heat emanating from his skin, the thunder of his heartbeat. The air around them crackled with anger and desire, and the game began to take on a new intensity.

The final score was close, with Gryffindor barely eking out a victory. As the Snitch flew into the hands of the Gryffindor seeker, the crowd erupted into cheers, Y/n barely registered the noise. She dismounted her broom as the Gryffindors flood onto the field, congratulating their team. Her eyes met Oliver's once more, and this time there was no anger, no desire. There was only hatred.

She stormed off the field, not bothering to wait for the post-game ceremony. She started barking orders at her team, her voice cold and hard as ice. But underneath the surface, she was seething. Oliver's touch had thrown her off balance, made her feel things she didn't want to feel. He had won, and now she wanted nothing more than to make him pay.

As the Gryffindors filed back into the castle, Oliver couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. He glanced over his shoulder, searching for Y/n, but she was nowhere to be found. He shrugged it off, figuring she was just angry about the loss. He didn't realize how right he was until he reached the common room and found her waiting for him in the shadows.

Her eyes were blazing, her chest heaving with anger. "You think you're so great, don't you?" she spat. "You think you can just take what you want?" Oliver stared at her, confused. "I don't know what you're talking about, Y/n," he said, taking a step back. "I just played a clean game."

"Don't lie to me!" she shouted, her voice echoing off the walls. "You know exactly what you did. You pushed me off my broom, just like third year all over agian! You made me feel weak. You made me look weak" - she paused, taking a shaky breath before continuing - "in front of everyone!"

Oliver felt a pang of guilt. He hadn't meant to hurt her, hadn't meant to make her feel that way. But he couldn't admit it now. Not with her standing there, eyes blazing with anger and hurt. "I was just playing the game, Y/n," he said, trying to keep his voice steady. "It's not personal."

She laughed, a bitter, humorless sound. "Of course it's not personal," she scoffed. "That's why you've been looking at me like that all day. That's why you've been trying to get under my skin." Her gaze bored into him, searching for some sign of weakness. "You're just as bad as he was. Just as arrogant and just as cruel."

The mention of him sent a shiver down Oliver's spine. He knew who she was talking about: the boy who had bullied them both for years, the boy who had made them feel helpless and alone. He was the reason Oliver had joined the Gryffindor quidditch team in the first place, the reason he had become the captain he was today. "I'm not him," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm not like him."

But she didn't believe him. "You are," she insisted. "Using whatever you can for a fucking win, you're just as obsessed with quidditch as he was, gods, if you wern't such a goody two shoes you would've let Fred and George get rid of half of my team with that stupid candy!" Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, and for a moment, Oliver felt a pang of guilt so sharp it took his breath away.

Fith year Fred anf George had gotten themselves some extra zonko's candy and diped it in a boils potion to prank the slytherins. They mailed it for the team before a match but some of the first years had gotten to it first. The next coupple of weeks you could tell exactly who ate the candy by the scaring on the kids arms before Madam Pompfrey heald it.

He wanted to reach out to her, to tell her that it hadn't been his intention to hurt her. That he had just been trying to play a fair game. But something held him back. Maybe it was the memory of the way she had looked at him, her expression filled with such hatred and anger. Maybe it was the fear of pushing her further away. Whatever it was, he remained silent.

The silence stretched between them, thick and heavy like a curtain. Oliver could feel her gaze boring into him, could see the anger radiating from her every pore. He knew that if he didn't say something soon, this moment would become a permanent rift between them. But what could he possibly say that would make things better?

"If you had won fair and square this wouldn't be such a big deal Wood-" calling him by his last name stung, "but, you made me look like a fool in front of my house, and my parents, gods, I hope you're happy with yourself Wood, You're a filthy fucking cheater" she hissed, tears falling down her cheeks, but she didn't seem to notice them.

Oliver winced at the sound of his last name on her lips. He hated the way it made him feel, like he was just a reminder of everything she had gone through. He took a step forward, reaching out to touch her shoulder, but then thought better of it. "I didn't mean to make you feel that way," he said quietly. "It's just a game, Y/n. We both know it's not personal."

She laughed, a bitter, humorless sound. "Of course it's not personal," she snorted. "That's why you pushed me off my broom. That's why you kept knocking me down. It's all just a big game to you." Her gaze darted around the room, her eyes wild with anger and hurt. "But it's not just a game to me. It's my life." She takes in a sharp breath, "I have a legacy to live up to Wood; and you just got in my way"

Ah yes, Slytherins and their bloodlines...Y/n family had come from powerfull witches and wizards. Purebloods. After going to hogwarts they had either gon to work in a powerful position (Mostly her dads side) or playing for a Quidditch team (Moms side). It was in her blood to do great things and everyone knew that, makeing the pressure to live up to that alot bigger.

Oliver felt a pang of guilt. He hadn't meant to hurt her. He really hadn't. But he couldn't help but feel that she didn't understand. Quidditch wasn't just his life; it was the only thing he had ever been good at. It was the one thing that had kept him going after everything he had been through. And now that he was finally captain, he couldn't just let some rival team come along and take it away from him.

He opened his mouth to try and explain, but the words caught in his throat. Instead, he forced a small smile. "Look, I get it. Quidditch means a lot to you. It means a lot to me too. But we both know we can't change what happened out there today. All we can do is move forward and try to be better." He took another step forward, his voice softening. "I'm sorry I hurt you, Y/n. I really am. But I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me."

"Find me later Wood" and with that she turned on her heels and walked away. He took that as a small win, she didn't yell at him or hex him either.

The next time their paths crossed was at a Slytherin common room party, a few weeks later. It wasn't a formal event, just a get-together with some friends from different houses. Oliver knew Y/n was going to be there, and he had debated whether or not to show up himself. In the end, he decided that he owed it to her to try and make amends, even if it was just a little.

He spotted her across the room, laughing with a group of her friends. She looked beautiful, as always, her hair falling in soft waves around her shoulders. For a moment, Oliver felt a pang of regret for the way things had gone between them. He wished he could go back in time and change it, make things better. But he knew that was impossible. All he could do now was try to move forward.

He took a deep breath and forced himself to walk over to her. "Hey, Y/n," he said, trying to sound casual. "Mind if I, uh, join you?"

She looked up, her expression guarded. "I suppose," she said slowly. "What do you want, Wood? Why's the little lion wondering around the snake den?"

Oliver winced inwardly at the way she said his last name. It was like a dagger to the heart. "Look, I just wanted to apologize again for what happened during the match. I shouldn't have pushed you off your broom. It was a stupid move, and I regret it." He paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. "I know we're both competitive, but there's no need for things to get personal."

Y/n studied him for a moment, her expression softening just the tiniest bit. "You know, Oliver, I've been thinking about what you said. You're right. There's no need for it to be personal. We're both just trying to do our best, you know?" She looked away, playing with the hem of her dress. "I guess I've been acting like a jerk, too. I'm sorry for that."

Oliver felt a weight lift off his shoulders. He hadn't expected her to be so understanding. "Thanks, Y/n. I really appreciate that. And I'm sorry for pushing things too far. I just got caught up in the heat of the moment, you know?" He paused, chuckling softly. "We're both a bit intense, I guess."

She laughed, the sound musical and genuine. "That we are. But I think we can both be better than that. We're both better than what we've been doing." Her expression turned more serious. "We're both good Quidditch players, Oliver. We both have a lot to offer. So let's just focus on that, okay?"

You know what they say, kiss and make up right?

The time they met after that was when slytherin had overbooked the quidditch pitch and Oliver was pissed off, as was his team. He had just gotten done telling the head of the house how they were supposed to practice if they couldn't get the pitch when he heard a soft voice calling out to him. It was Y/n.

"Little lion got here a little to late?" she fake pouts, "That's too bad" she shrugs and sits on the edge of the pitch. "Sorry for over booking the pitch, we were training our new seeker" she crooned, "Our last one got a little sick…" The two slytherins behind her snicker.

Someone "accedently" put a few drops of eye drops in his pumkin juice early this week...

"Well, I hope they feel better soon," Oliver says, his tone neutral. "I'm sure we can work something out. Maybe we could practice together or something. That way, we can both get the time we need." He hesitates, then adds, "You know, if you want."

Y/n raised an eyebrow at him, her expression amused. "Oh? And what makes you think I'd want to practice with you, Wood?" She glanced at the two boys behind her, and they both sniggered again. "I'm sure we can manage just fine on our own."

Oliver grinned, feeling a little more confident now. "Oh, I'm sure you can. But I'm also sure that we could both learn a thing or two from each other. We're both good players, after all." He paused, then continued, "And it might be nice to get to know each other better, outside of the context of Quidditch."

Y/n considered his words for a moment, her expression thoughtful. "Hmm…you might have a point there," she admitted reluctantly, "Now that I think about it though, less time you have to practice, bigger chance for us to win the cup" she grins, "Better luck next time" she pats his shoulder before walking away. George whispered to Fred swearing that he could see steam coming out of Olivers ears.

The quidditch locker room was a mess, as usual. Broken wands and battered bludgers littered the floor, and the stench of sweat and worn leather hung in the air like a thick, suffocating fog. Y/n L/n, captain of the Slytherin team, sighed heavily as she sat down on one of the benches, her long hair falling over her face as she tugged at the collar of her sweat-soaked shirt. It had been a long day, and the season was only halfway through. She glanced around, noticing that Oliver R/lastname, captain of the Gryffindor team, was still in the locker room as well. They'd had a particularly brutal match that day, and she couldn't help but feel a twinge of annoyance at the sight of him.

But before she could gather her thoughts, Oliver stood up from his own bench and started walking towards her. He looked just as tired and disheveled as she felt, and there was something in his expression that made her heart skip a beat. She swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry, as he stopped in front of her and reached out to brush a strand of hair from her face. "Hey, L/n," he murmured softly. "You okay?"

For a moment, Y/n couldn't speak. Her brain felt like it had turned to mush, and her heart was racing. She knew they shouldn't be doing this, but she couldn't help but feel drawn to him. Finally, she managed to croak out a reply. "I'm… fine." Oliver's eyes searched hers, his expression intense. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice low and husky. And before she could respond, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers.

She could feel his erection pressed against her, and the realization sent a shiver down her spine. It had been so long since she'd been with anyone, and Oliver was the last person she expected to find herself wanting. But there was something about the way he kissed her, so desperate and demanding, that made her ache for him in a way she'd never thought possible. Her hands found their way to his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath her fingers. He moaned into the kiss, his tongue dancing with hers, and she couldn't help but melt into his embrace.

As they kissed, their hands roamed over each other's bodies, seeking out pleasure in the heat of the moment. Oliver's fingers traced a path down her spine, making her shiver, while she gripped his hair, pulling him closer still. She could feel his erection pressing harder against her, and she knew she had to do something about it. She broke the kiss for a moment, panting heavily, and looked into his eyes. His pupils were so dilated she could hardly see the green. "Oliver," she whispered, her voice shaky. "I want you."

Without waiting for his reply, she straddled his lap, feeling the heat of his body against hers. Oliver's hands found their way to her breasts, kneading them through her sweat-soaked shirt. He groaned, and Y/n arched her back, reveling in the sensation. She reached down, unfastened his pants, and pulled his erection free. Oliver gasped as she wrapped her hand around him, stroking him slowly. She leaned forward, kissing him again, and guided his length towards her. He thrust forward, pushing himself inside her, and she cried out, feeling him stretch her tightly.

They moved together in a frenzy, their bodies slamming together in time with their ragged breathing. The pain was replaced by a white-hot pleasure that coursed through her veins, making her lightheaded. Oliver's fingers dug into her hips, his nails leaving tiny half-moon marks in her skin. She could feel herself getting closer and closer, the orgasm building inside her, threatening to explode. And then, finally, it hit her, washing over her in a wave of pure ecstasy. She arched her back, crying out his name as her inner walls squeezed him in a powerful spasm. Oliver followed her over the edge, his body tense as he let out a hoarse cry and emptied himself inside her.

They collapsed together on the bench, panting heavily. The tension that had been building between them for weeks seemed to dissipate in that moment, leaving only the afterglow of their passionate encounter. Oliver reached up to wipe the sweat from her forehead, his fingers trailing down her cheek before coming to rest on her chin. "I've wanted to do that for so long," he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. "I'm sorry I had to wait until now."

Y/n smiled up at him, feeling a shiver of desire run through her. "It was worth the wait," she whispered, running her fingers through his messy hair. "And we still have the rest of the season, you know." At that, Oliver laughed, a deep, throaty sound that made her heart skip a beat. "God, I can't wait to see what else you have in store for me," he said, kissing her softly.

Y/n knew she was utterly fucked. Her and Oliver? Fucked. Hell She just fucked Oliver.

🌟-I'll work on your request soon!

It's 3:50 right now and I have to leave for a trip in a few hours so i'll be away from my computer for a while!

Love you my children -💙

#fypシ #y/n #idk #writing prompt #hogmarch #thatdamedchickennugget #oliver wood #oliver wood x y/n #oliver wood x reader #quidditch #this makes no sense

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kiruliom · 8 months

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coin fight 2023!

what is coin fight?

have you ever heard of art fight? it's like that, but for liom/mogai!

there is 2 teams (sun and moon for this year), and you 'attack' a member of the opposite team by coining things you think they'd like :D

this is made completely for fun, and has no rewards besides some "I was in the winning team" graphics (userboxes, blinkies, etc.)

the event will start on 9/20 and will last a week, with an exception being if it's still active after 1 week.

instructions:

make an entry here!

make a section on your pinned post (or an easily accessible rentry page) with your team and what you associate with your identity (make it as vague or specific as you need, doesnt need to be gender exclusive)

reblog the associated team post (sun) (moon) so people who check the reblogs of that post looking for people to attack can find you!

find a person to attack and coin things you think they will like! tag the person you're attacking and me (kiruliom), and tag #2023coinfight. also it would be really nice if you could tell us the approximation of your points (eg. it's a 5th link on a friendly fire revenge chain? please tell us its 7 points. ( 5 base, 2 points deducted for friendly fire, 5th link means 4th revenge, so +4)) this makes my job a lot easier.

rules:

if you fail to follow the instructions above you will be reached out to, or if you need help just tell me!

please check if you fit the DNI of the person you'd like to attack, or if THEY fit YOUR DNI. to avoid awkward situations.

all flags and terms made will have a 5 point base value. for every new 'link' on a revenge chain it will have 1 more point added to it. non-gender terms get 2 more points added to them, to encourage non-gender coinings

the terms coined dont need to be unique, just need to have unique flags. you can make an alternative bigender flag for example and it'd count as valid for points. however you cant submit flags made outside of the event time, this is more of a trust thing though as I cant tell for sure whether the flag was made before the event or not lol

there is a 3 attack per day rule, to avoid spamming. any more attacks submitted for the day will be rendered null, meaning no more points will be added for that day, this includes revenges. attacks are counted by amount of terms and not the amount of posts.

coining non-disordered paraphilia, MUD, oculoid or transid terms will render those attacks null, which means you wont earn points for them. transpecies is the exception to this as it's an alterhuman term and not a transid term.

friendly fire (attacking someone of the same team), is allowed. however 2 points will be deducted. this is to encourage a "team rivalry" more.

you can only attack 1 user at a time.

please dont take advantage of my awful memory and math skills and cheat, this is supposed to be for fun and you need to do your part for that, yeah?

re-elaborating the point system so it's in one place:

base term (say, a gender made for someone of the opposite team) = 5 pts

friendly fire (attacking someone of the same team) = -2 pts off total

revenge (attacking someone back)= +1 point per link on chain, starting from 2nd link/'first revenge'

non-gender terms = +2 points

sorry it's so messy, this is the first time Ive hosted an event that needs heavy moderation like this. I hope to figure this out via suggestions and trial-and-error.

#2023coinfight prep #event #coining event #mogai event #mogai pride #mogai positivity #mogai friendly #mogai #mogai blog #mogai community #mogai heaven #mogai post #mogai real #mogai safe #mogaireal #mogaisafe #actually mogai #pro mogai

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schnuffel-danny · 1 year

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My personal interpretation of the Ghost Language/Ghost Speak headcanon-trope, an incomprehensible comprehensive summary.

As seems to be a common theme with my headcanons, this is one of those I came up with shortly after watching the show thinking it was somewhat unique, only to discover an idea like this has existed in the fandom for a while when I made a tumblr blog. It’s also one of the headcanons I have that, despite already existing within the fandom, do not fully align with accepted fanon. So, uh, here’s a post I guess. My idea of ‘Ghost Language’ is less of an established language and more of a… magical form of communication?? Ghost Language - or Ghost Speak, as I will call it from now on - is a very abstract form of sharing information as it’s less about speaking words and more about beaming your emotions and memories directly into someone’s head. It comes from the ghost’s core (which in my interpretation is pretty much the soul and every ghost has one, not just those that developed elemental powers.), has no traditional language structure and is a natural ability of every ghost. It’s impossible to be replicated by humans and other non-ghostly entities and the way it sounds varies from spirit to spirit, however it is almost always unpleasant to human ears. If you are a ghost with a more developed core (meaning you either have an elemental core or powers unique to you) your Ghost Speak will be overlayed with sensations (or sounds) associated with whatever the hell is going on with your core. Ghost Speak is a form of revealing information directly from your core and as such is incredibly personal. (Literally speaking from your soul lol) Basically if you're trying to share any kind of information in ghost speak, like for example you want to tell a friend you're going home, you'd be showing them parts of the memories and emotions associated with home (and the idea of returning there) stored in your core. Which means that, instead of the simple announcement that you're returning home, you reveal the general idea of what/where your home is, who shares it with you, how you feel about the place and the people you live with and partially what the journey home means to you.

You cannot lie and you have basically no way of obscuring information, since you are momentarily opening your core to another person. Which is incredibly fucking dangerous if you're speaking to someone who you really don't want knowing anything about your home life. It's just an open stream of very personal information and (fully formed) ghosts only use it to communicate very rarely and that is only in the circumstances of complete unconditional trust. I specify fully formed because newly formed weak spirits that are confined to following a specific set of mannerisms and are incapable of verbal communication rely on ghost speak to call (beg) for help, usually with a recounting of their death, hence the moaning and wailing and a plethora of other ‘creepy’ noises. Since Ghost Speak comes as a natural ability, many weaker spirits won’t even realize they are using it in their attempts to communicate. ANYWAY, I’m too tired and my head is swimming from all this text so I’ll cut it short here, but feel free to ask if you got any questions? I realize I haven’t really explained it that well, I’m not a writer and also written word is just generally painful for me to look at so I’ve likely made a few errors XD Sorry ‘bout that! Hope someone has a little interest in this regardless! Thank you for reading :3

#danny phantom #schnuffel hc time #yeah that's a tag now I guess

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k0ff1n · 1 year

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WHY EVERYONE IN THE TWST FANDOM IS A PUSSY AND DOESN'T WRITE ABOUT ORTHO:

First of all, sorry if there are any errors, english is not my first language and I'm still learning it.

Seeing how people reacted to this post I'll add some things first, to at least not be called a pedo:

I'm literally a minor, so please don't call me a pedo because that's not really possible I think

If you were to actually read the post, not because you agree but because you want to complain then you have two options, to not read it at all or to consider the first point and the fact that I too would prefer the people writing about him to imagine a older looking version.

As stated before, if you want to complain pls don't interact

So I suppose that everyone who plays twisted wonderland knows who Ortho is, but in case someone doesn't, here's a little description:

He was and still is Idia Shroud's little brother, he died when he was a child and his body was remade by his brother to somehow "keep him alive".

I know that reading this gives the idea of him still being a child and that, if he was one, writing fanfictions about him would be wrong, so this is why I'll try to explain why having this idea while knowing the full story is kinda stupid.

1: HIS AGE

After saying that he died as a child and was made anew it gives the idea that he's still a child, but he technically isn't.

In the birthday card form the first year of the game, which is almost three years ago at this point, Yuu asks him in the interview what was his best memory from a past birthday party. To this Ortho answers the party that was held when he was five, which was eleven years ago. If you know basic math you should understand that 5+11=16, which makes him as old as the first years. Ok I know, some of you don't understand that being sixteen isn't the same as being five years old but for the sake of this post we'll say that, yes he's still a minor and we shouldn't write romantic stuff about him because bla bla bla (Also I'd like to point out that I'm not talking about writing nsfw stuff about him, just relationship scenarios instead of only platonic ones) but if you consider the year in which the card was released then it means that this August he'll be eighteen, so yeah legal age for stuff.

In case you want to argue about what he says in the story I'll leave the screens of the translation:

2: HIS MENTAL AGE

Writing this might seem stupid but some of you don't understand it so I'll do it anyway. We said that his body is new, and this applies for his mind too, well kind of. Some of his memories as Ortho Shroud, the one who actually lived, are still inside his head, we know that because Idia somehow put some of them back inside of him to "preserve his little brother". With this said we are left with:

50% old memories

50% all that's known to mankind

We know that in his head he can search everything, you can clearly see that during history lessons and in some of his cards (if I'm not wrong it was a birthday one but I'm not sure which of the two). He talks about how much he likes playing games with other students and that since he can predict everything they'll do they decided to create a handwritten list of moves to use against him. From this we get:

He can know everything from the entire internet, from every site and from every data storage around the world

Can without much trouble go against entire groups of people at once and still win, something that I don't think someone with the mind of a kid can do

To conclude this first part about his head I'll just say that you can't have the mindset of a child if you know everything, and this applies to him too. 3: HIS PERCEPTION OF HIMSELF

This is still about his mind but with a different point of view. When we finish the sixth chapter of the story Ortho gains a real heart, a real himself we can say. He's finally free from his brother's restrains and he starts to become a real person. The school realizes this too and accepts him as a student, starting from the first year. This might seem obvious but we know that two years before, when him and Idia arrived at the school, he wasn't perceived as a person, he was just a tool, another piece of metal and cables that his brother bought with him. Now having a heart and a mind of his own he still has the knowledge he had before but he can also appreciate things from another prospective, one only a real living being can have. I feel like saying this might not mean much but to put it simply: he arrives at the school and is fourteen, he stays a total robot for another year and then we meet him when he's sixteen. After another year he gains a heart and he's almost an adult and now, one year after he's become a person, he's to become eighteen. He's almost a literal adult, this is what I wanted to say. Another thing that I'd like to point out is the fact that during chapter six he acts a different way when with or without his brother. The "childish" version of him is only visible when he's talking to Idia and that single time that he slips in an annoyed expression, one his brother has probably never seen, he gets asked if there is need for maintenance. His real self is later introduced, he's way more similar to his brother if not worse at some points. Various times he expresses amusement in seeing someone struggle, something that even Idia had never done. We can clearly see that the version of Ortho that we've always seen wasn't the real one but something that his brother remembered about him from their childhood and that he had to take as his only option regarding personality. His real personality is yes, friendly, but not childish in the slightest. The most childish character in the game is probably Kalim lol. Btw these are some screens from one of the cards where be talks about himself and stuff, even before becoming a real person:

4: HIS BODY

We know he's short, he's 148 cm. Oh wait you want to say that his face almost looks... like the one of a young looking person? Please don't. Seriously, this might mean something if he was the only character in the game with a young looking face but he isn't, we literally got Epel and Riddle a similar design. And oh look, people write about them, even nsfw stuff, but no one complains for some reason. Epel is sixteen, a minor, but no one says anything if someone decides to simply add the "every character here is aged up so everything's fine" thing. Riddle is seventeen, oh look, another minor people don't have a problem writing about. You can clearly see how stupid this is, he's the same age as them, has the same type of design as them but for some reason is treated different from the fandom. Also, to add things to this mix of reasons, his body isn't even human, he's a literal thing made of metal, wires, fans and a heart. Idia could customize him any moment, and maybe in the future he will who knows, but for now this is what we got.

There's also a "problem" with his voice if we want to call it that. Yes, in this case I'll say that he sounds like a kid, but there's a reason. When Idia created him the only voice he has ever heard his little brother speak with was the one of a five years old, we can clearly hear the similarities between Ortho's real voice when he was a kid in chapter six and the one that AI Ortho has. But during chapter six we also hear the voice that he's supposed to have now, and it's not a childlike one, he really sounds like a teenager.

5: THE FINAL (not the dir en grey song) PART

After all these paragraphs I sincerely hope that at least some of you understand how all this doesn't make sense. I know I'm not the only one who thinks this, I know other people with this same idea but at this point no one can really write anything without being called slurs or assuming random things about them. This post was just a simple explanation of how I see this "issue", if we want to call it that.

Also as stated at the start of the post I too would really prefer an older looking version of him, one with the voice we hear in chapter six from his real and current self and not the one that resembles his old one. This said I understand why some of you want to complain about me wanting fantictions about him and this is why I say that if there will ever be some I will only be imagining the "older" version and not the one that we have now in the game.

Thanks for everyone who read till this point and have a good day :)

#disney twst #twst idia #twst x reader #twister wonderland #ortho shroud #idia shroud #ortho x reader #fanfic #twst ortho #disney #ignihyde #twst x mc #twst x yuu #twisted wonderland fanfic

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rosasolos · 1 year

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ASSISTANT / A.JOLIE

pairing .⭒ ۪ 𖥔 ˑ ִ ֗ angelina x fem!reader

summary .⭒ ۪ 𖥔 ˑ ִ ֗ you are angelina’s assistant and after she finished her interview you guys go back to hers and something happens between you two.

warnings .⭒ ۪ 𖥔 ˑ ִ ֗ nsfw/smut, cursing, age gap ( you are 39 angie is 47 )

A/N .⭒ ۪ 𖥔 ˑ ִ ֗ sorry for any grammar errors

“So angelina what is you’re favorite childhood memory?” the interviewer says while looking at angelina. “Well when i was around 11 me and my neighbor used to go to this playground and climb the monkey bars.” angelina says while smiling at the camera, “well this has been very fun angelina i hope you have an amazing day.” the interviewer says while turning her head to look at angie. “this was amazing thank you so much for having me bye.” angelina says while getting up from her chair. “Ms jolie, the limo will be here in 5!” you say while looking as jolie’s calendar, “okay thank you y/n.” angie says while closing her water bottle lid.

“The limo is here ms jolie would you like me to take you’re bag?” you say while looking at angelina waiting for a response, “Yes thank you say much y/n.” “Okay so today at 3 you have a late lunch with dior and tomorrow you have a massage then your Vogue photoshoot then you have a dinner with ms portman.” “Thanks y/n i don’t know what i would do if you weren’t here!” Angelina says while looking at you’re clipboard. “Excuse me miss we are here.” The driver says while looking back at the both of you, “Oh perfect, here let me get the door.” You say to angie while opening her you’re door then hers.

You get Angelina’s keys out of her purse and unlock the door. “Okay we should probably go to your closet and try on those outfits that Chanel sent.” You say while looking at Angelina for approval “perfect let me just go grab a energy smoothie and I’ll meet you up there.” Angelina says while making her way to the kitchen.

You go upstairs and turn the knob of angelina’s walk in closet, you place her purse and shopping bags from earlier today. You grab the box’s chanel sent while you hear the door creak. “Hello, y/n you in here?” angelina says while opening the closet door. “Yep im in here i opened the box’s.” you say loudly while turning you’re head back for a sec.

Angie opens the door fully and taps you’re shoulder “oh my goodness they are so gorgeous I’m dying!” angie says in a joyful tone “yes they are very beautiful ms jolie.” you say while looking at some necklaces that they also sent, “How many times have I told you to not call me ms jolie just call me angelina y/n” “I’m sorry ms jolie crap i mean angelina.” you say in a nervous tone of voice “it’s fine y/n” Angelina says while putting her head in you’re shoulder, you start to blush and angelina sees you blushing but you quickly turn away and hopes she thinks nothing about it.

“we’re you blushing y/n?!” Angelina says in a teasingly tone. “uh..uh no” you say it a very nervous tone, angelina pulls you in and kisses you “I’m sorry y/n i don’t know what i was thinking” angelina says while opening the door to leave “no wait I liked it!” you say while pulling angelina back inside by her hand.

You pull her c in and you start to kiss angelina, slowly adding your tongue to the kiss. You move you around her back. “wow y/n i didn’t know you were a good kisser!” angelina says. angelina continues making out with you and then lifts you up on to her closet island.

angelina slowly slides her hand into your skirt, and starts massaging your inner thigh *you slighty moan* “do you like that?” Angelina says while continuing to massage your inner thigh.

you look at your watch its 2:40 “uhm-ms jolie uh-uhm *you moan slightly* its 2:40 *you moan loud* you have your lunch soon” you say while Angelina keeps pleasuring you. “shit we should stop then” Angelina says .

you both stop and fix your selves up and you help Angelina get ready.

That’s it i know i haven’t posted in a bit sorry

#smut #angelina jolie fluff #angelina jolie x female reader #angelina jolie x reader #angelina jolie smut #angelina jolie

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thoughtsandbones · 11 months

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Time for Tea?

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!MedicDoc OC (codename: Blue) 💀💙

WARNINGS: Mention of profanity, self harm scars, scars, fluff, medical inaccuracies and just getting the POV of our friendly neighbourhood masked menace.

Plot: Doctor Ruhari Hari Kaur (OC is South Asian ☺️) joins the 141 again, but this time as their doctor. After the betrayal of Shepherd and Graves, Task Force 141 begins their hunt on his whereabouts and locating Makarov.

PLEASE reblog and like! Hope folks are enjoying the series, I am building up characters and plots, cos I have a lot ideas and just been enjoying writing :D

Song inspo: Across the Spider-Verse playlist basically only Spotify

Word count: It's long... sorry, not sorry.

A/N: Flashbacks are getting messed up when I am indenting them and I am getting lots of errors when publishing the work, please bare with some mistakes and spelling issues.

I grew up with the OG MW2 game, so there are some references to the old one, so kind of a mix of both the OG and the new timeline... (Also I'm ignoring the OG Shepherd betrayal and keeping in line the one with the new timeline..)

spelling and some grammar mistakes as I am bad at times... :/

(FYI: bold sentences... that are like this... are supposed to describe redacted data/info to the plot... ;] .. )

Please do let me know how you all are finding this fanfic! :D

PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9 and PART 10

Part 11

<CUE FLASHBACK> Siberia, Russia, October 12 2010 Day 3- The storm was making it difficult to see where you were going; the harsh sharp wind was piercing through your morf snood, cold needles prick your skin. You breathe out, the moisture cooling the cold around your mouth. "Yer drifting right Blue, come to your left a bit" The Captain said over the radio Looking over to your left you could no longer make out the silhouette of the Captain. "Copy Cap" You say back and change your direction walking left, you see the outline of the Captain emerge. "Stick close, we are nearly there" He said over the radio again "Yes sir" Both of you walked, slightly crouched. The storm bringing in snow, being the perfect cover for the two soldiers infiltrating the base. Up ahead you see barbed wire fencing appear, the silhouette of the buildings of the base coming into view. The Captain puts his hand up, signalling you to stop, you do so. "Here we are Blue" He says "Hanger on the right hand-side of the tarmac Cap?" you say "Aye, make our way through to the left and head to the tarmac where the MiGs are." "Copy Cap" The Captain crouched down, looking left and right, and you followed him "Blue, yer nervous?" The Captain says You look at the back of his head, he doesn't turn, because you know he's looking on the look out. "Staying focused Cap" You respond, trying to keep a cool demeanour. "It's alrigh' to be nervous" The Captain teased "Nervousness produces adrenaline, which is keeping me on high alert for any Russians sir" The Captain chuckled through the radio "Aye, yer nervous" he said "Yer got me, so yer'll good" The Captain added You laugh back "Aye Cap" you mimic his Scottish accent which earned another chuckle over the radio.

"This is Major Perov! Come up with your hands...."

The hiss of that memory electrified your whole body awake. Hot sweats lathered your body, your baggy t-shirt clung to your back and chest making those parts of your t-shirt damp. You can smell the sweat coming off you as you turn to lie on your front.

Not another dream like that again You think, groaning into the pillow. The sticky sweat had seeped through your t-shirt and onto the bed. Running your hand through your hair and down the nape of neck, you could feel the droplets resting on the surface of your skin as they were squashed against your fingertips.

Gross

Getting up, you sit crossed legged on the bed, the sweat on your body going from hot to cold. You shiver. Grabbing the duvet you wrap it around you. You feel the cold within your marrow.

You grab your phone. It was 3:46am. Laying back down on the bed all snuggled with your blanket and sweat ridden shirt. Pondering at the thought of going back to sleep. The bad odour coming off you made you abandon the thought.

Unraveling yourself from the blanket you head to the bathroom, turning the shower on and wait for it to get warm. Taking off your shirt, still damp with sweat and chucking it in the laundry basket. Catching your naked body briefly in the mirror.

Your torso a lighter shade of brown than your arms and neck. You turn your body admiring the right side of your arm and shoulder, flexing the muscles under the skin. The bullet scar curved over the top of your shoulder, the black humerus bone tattoo standing out. These markings make you, you.

The mirror began to steam up from the heat of the shower, stepping in, bracing yourself for the onslaught of hot water droplets that somehow pierced into your skin and warmed your bones directly.

Once you dried yourself and got ready it was 4:26 am, you were hungry but the mess hall wouldn't be open. Price did say he had a small kitchenette next to his office you could use. In your second drawer you grab a mug along with a small bag that contained your emergency stash of tea, sugar and milk sachets. You hoped Price would have fresh milk and tea, but you brought yours just in case.

You put on a black hoodie over your clean grey shirt that was tucked in your black joggers, trying to keep you warm, and your trainers, walking out with your mug, whilst stuffing the your home tea kit in the large pocket of your hoodie.

Damp strands of hair clung to your face as you walked to the kitchenette, putting your AirPods and playing music to drown out of the echo of your dream.

Meanwhile in Price's kitchenette/break room, Simon sat on the sofa, head laying back with a cup of chamomile and lavender tea, it was the smell of this brewed tea that helped calm him from another restless night, he held the mug close to his chest, giving warmth to his heart.

The steam from the mug drifted to his naked face, his mask hitched above his brows. He brought the mug to his lips and took a sip of the tea, savouring the warm bitterness of the lavender and sweetness of the honey. His ears perked at the sound of approaching footsteps outside the break room, he quickly pulled his mask down his face with his left hand, holding his mug steady with his right.

The doorknob turned and the door opened. There you walked in, your long damp brown hair reflecting in the dim light, you did not turn the light on.

Ghost froze, he had not expected you to come here, especially at this time in the morning. He watched as you headed over to the kettle and placing your hand on it's side.

The kettle was warm, it had just been used, and someone was in here, as you heard movement come from behind you.

Price? You think and then turning around expecting to see a grinning gentlemen.

Nope. It was the masked menace, Ghost, sitting on the sofa, holding a mug of tea. Through the little natural light that lit the room, you could make out his blue eyed-balls widening at you.

"Morning Lieutenant." You say turning back round, and switching the kettle on.

"Mornin' Doc" Ghost gruffed, he cleared his throat. He watched as you took out a bag from your black hoodie, and take out a Tetley tea bag along with a spoon. You didn't even flinch.

Tetley girl eh? Ghost thought gazing down you, wearing black joggers. His eyes went back to your brown hair draped over your shoulders, some parts still damp.

The kettle began to shake as the water within boiled. You placed the string around the handle of the mug and plopped the tea bag into the mug. The kettle boiled as the switched flipped up. Waiting a few seconds then pouring the water into the mug, watching the colourless water become seeped with dark amber.

"Is there milk in the fridge that I can use?" You ask, your back still facing away from Ghost.

"Yeah, blue top on the bottom shelf" Ghost says watching as you move to the fridge

"Thanks" You say, opening the door and grabbing the milk.

Ghost watched as you set his pint of milk next to your mug, you stirred the teabag with a spoon you brought out from the little bag. You take out a sugar sachet, ripping it and placing its contents in the mug, then swirling the tea. He watches as you squeeze the teabag against the side of the mug and toss it in the open bin. You take his milk and pour a dash of it in, stirring the contents, you add a bit more.

Ghost wondered how milky you liked your tea...

You screw the cap back on and then put it in the fridge, grabbing your mug you sit on one of the four chairs surrounding a small square table, where you place your mug of tea. You look over your shoulder and see Ghost still staring at you. Looking down at your wrist, noticing you forgot to put your watch on so you couldn't count the seconds of how long he was staring at you this morning. You let out a sigh, delving back into the music that sprang from your earphones.

Ghost diverted his gaze back to his mug. He then watched you take a sip of tea in the corner of his eye. He looked back down at his tea, the mugs warmth bringing him a sort of comfort as you sat there. Ghost noticed you move your left arm up, like a magnet his eyes were drawn to your movements, you pushed you hair back, he noticed you had those wireless ear buds in, he scanned your body noticing your left leg resting on the chair opposite and your right foot tapping the air gently.

He was frozen in his seat. He felt like he could not move or get up. Ghost was drawn to you again as you raised your arm and placed your elbow on the table, resting your head in the palm of your hand.

You take another sip of tea. Gulping another sip of the hot liquid down, trying to warm your insides that felt cold, warming the nerves.

If only you could make some chai but you didn't have the spices with you.

"This is Major Perov..." echos in your left ear but faintly this time, you try and focus back on the music..

Should've brought my jar from home you think. You lean back into the chair sighing again. You turn your head to the left and see Ghost looking at you, he moves his head down, to look at the tea in his hand.

There was no heavy tension between you two... or so you could tell... He could've left when you went in but he didn't. You wonder how would you bring up a subject like Siberia to him. You don't even know him. He's just a masked enigma.

Wish the Captain was here. You think, worse case, Sergeant Riley would do, the distant memory of him awakens in your mind He'd surely tell you to leave him be but throw in the sarcastic comment to see how'd he'd respond and go off that. 12 years since they've been gone. 11 and 10 years for MG and KD. Your former mentors and comrades. Gone.

Now you've got new ones to get to know. And one currently sitting in the same room seemingly hates your guts or has some major trust issues.

You clear your throat, pausing the music, taking the left ear bud out, taking your shot...

"Did you get the email sir?" You ask, turning slightly towards him, bring your left leg down from the chair opposite.

Ghost looked up "Yeah I did" he responded whilst nodding, his the fingers on his right hand drumming against the mug. Lump forming in his throat again.

You nod back, bringing your mug in your hands and close your chest, and then take a sip. The insides of you cold still. Perhaps cocooning yourself with your blanket will help? You think

Ghost watches as you bring out your phone, taking your other earbud out and placing them back in your pocket. His eyes stuck to you as you get up and take your mug and little tea kit bag, stuffing it back in your pocket.

"See you later Lieutenant" You say not smiling

Ghost nods back at you and watched you leave, closing the door gently behind you. He glanced at his watch. 5:15am... In about 9 hours you both were going to have another interaction together... Why were you up so early? Training perhaps?

The stoic face you had flashed across his eyelids when he blinked.

You were annoyed, who wouldn't be? Ghost retorted to himself, slightly scoffing. The looped voices bouncing across his cranium.

He leaned back on the sofa, his tea now lukewarm, he lifted his mask and took a sip.

"Bleurgh" He said as the barely warm liquid ran down his throat. He gets up, takes the teabag out and tosses it in the bin and pours the tea in the sink, washes the mug and places it on the drying rack. Ghost stands by the counter, looking at the seat which you sat at moments ago.

He had a chance to apologise but missed. He left the break room and headed back to his room, his mind more clouded than before.

Later on that day

"Hope my blood pressure isn't too high" Price said as you wrapped the cuff around his right arm.

You smile slightly and shake your head at Price's remark

"Shall find out soon enough" you reply pressing the start button on the blood pressure machine, the cuff fills up with air, the machine whirrs, the numbers on the machine rise up.

Once you hear two beeps the reading is complete: 125/80

"125/80, that's perfectly good for someone your age" You say

"My age?" Price chuckles

"41 is a good age sir"

"You're 9 years younger than me Doc"

You look up "Don't look it though" You smirk.

Taking off the blood pressure cuff, you write the reading down on your chart for the Captain.

"Your med kit is good, I just put more Celox, the haemostatic gauze, and saline in there" handing him his med kit, zipping it up.

"That shellfish stuff?" Price asks as he takes his kit giving you a semi-disgusted look.

"Yes sir"

"Not a fan" He added looking at his kit

"Good thing you won't be eating it for rations" You retort

Price chuckles, and checks his watch 10:55 am.

"Right, I'll leave you to prep for the next patient" Price says, you get up and take the tissue paper where Price sat and placed it in the bin. Spraying the bed with disinfectant and wiping it down with blue roll. You wait for the remaining disinfectant to dry and go to the bathroom and wash your hands.

For the duration of the 30 seconds it takes you to thoroughly wash your hands you scan your reflection in the mirror. Drying your hands and turning the tap off you head back in the main room.

Laying new tissue on the bed, you hear footsteps approach, checking your watch it was 10:59am. Perfect timing you think

Gaz appears in the doorway, you propped open after Price left, you look up and force a smile

"Morning Gaz" You say

"Morning Doc, you good?" Gaz asked, he carried his half empty med kit in his hand, sort of hoping you won't scold him. He looked around the infirmary, it was done up well. Clean. Organised. A laptop on your desk, along with a few files stacked neatly next to it. A small brain statue lay next to the lamp.

"Good, how are you?" You say gesturing to the med bed as you closed the door.

"Very well doc, er.. my med kit is a mess" Gaz says handing over his med-kit.

You take it, and examine, a little worn and torn, but expected when out in the field, somewhat similar to Price's bits of sand trapped in the edges, unzipping it you see it stocked with a few plasters, one ambulance dressing and gauze. Looking back up, you see Gaz's concerned face.

"I can stock this up fully, don't worry" you say smiling, "Fill what you can on the chart, don't worry about address" you add, heading to the cabinets behind your desk and place med kit on the counter. You turn back to see Gaz and walk back over.

You take out your equipment and move over to where Gaz sat, placing the clipboard with the pen to the side.

"Temp check" you say placing the IR thermometer to his forehead. The screen turned green, 36.4 ℃, normal. You grab the chart and jot this down.

You place a pulse ox monitor on this forefinger on his left forefinger.

"What's this for?" Gaz says flickering his finger where the oximeter was clipped.

"Measures pulse and percentage of oxygen in your blood"

"Cool gizmo"

"98%, good" You say checking the screen and scribbling the number down. "Pulse at 88 bpm, also good"

"Why not 100%?" Gaz asks looking at the oximeter, he breathes in sharply and holds his breathe, the oximeter changed by 1%.

You let out a small laugh "Not always, as we have a little carbon dioxide in our blood" You say

"Interesting" Gaz says continuing to look at the oximeter.

Taking the oximeter off his finger you proceed with the other checks; blood pressure, height and weight check, general well being, medicine enquiries but mostly refilling his med kit.

You hand it back to Gaz and explain what new stuff you packed. Gaz nods and thanks you and leaves.

It was 11:45am, Soap will be here soon, you follow the same procedure, strip, wipe down and set up.

Never did you think you'd be doing the job of a GP, seeing patients one after another, no surgeries, no rotations and no other doctors, least no friendly doctors yet...

There was a knock on the door. Getting up and opening it, you see Soap grinning.

"Morning Doc" He said

"Morning Soap" You reply back, making way for him to enter as you stood by the door, he walked and looked around.

"How are yer?" He asked turning facing you as you closed the door.

"Good" You say "How are you?"

"Been alrigh' Doc, Ghost beat me in target shooting this mornin'" He adds, awaiting your reaction when he mentioned Ghost's name.

You walk over "Ah, better luck next time" You say

"Take a seat on the med bed and fill out the chart on the tray" You gesture to the clipboard.

Soap picks it up and starts to write down his details, he notices are large x in pen over the personal details section apart from name and date of birth.

He fills out what he can and places the clipboard back on the tray.

Walking over, you begin with the your check list of check-ups. Soap took his shirt off, you stare at him blankly, trying not to ogle at the toned and defined muscles of his upper body.

"Ergh what are you doing?" You say apprehensively

"Don't yer need to put those electric cables on my chest?" Soap said looking at you confused.

You meet his confused face with yours. Your cheeks feel hot as your eyes dropped to his abs and down his snail trail, Soap followed your eyes and grinned. Swiftly turning on your left heel I cannot believe I looked you cling to your white coat.

"I'm not doing an ECG, please put your shirt on" You say closing your eyes trying to shake the image, now realising what Soap thought.

"Alrigh' doc it's on" He laughed "Sorry, I genuinely thought.." he trailed off as your turned back around, your cheeks showing a tinge of pink. He saw you biting in your lips and your ears going red.

You proceeded with the checks:

Pulse oximeter on; 98% and 97bpm

BP: 126/70

etc etc etc

You finish by asking Soap to step off the weights.

"Got your med-kit?" You ask

Soap's face dropped, the one thing he completely forgot that he should not have forgotten.

Taking in his shocked face, you smirk

"Get it to me when you can. I have Lieutenant Ghost at 13:30 so before then please" You say and Soap nods as he leaves the infirmary. Glancing at your watch, 12:40pm, enough time for a quick lunch.

Heading down to mess hall, it was busy of course, you wait in line for food along with other soldiers. You felt like you stood out with your blue scrubs, it's not like you were actually working in a hospital. Should've worn my black fatigues and sweater you think as you move along with the line.

Lunch was a steak and ale pie with chips. You felt full after half-eating the pie, you check your watch 13:10pm. You swiftly stop eating and get up, putting the food in the food bin and placing the plate and tray on their associated piles.

Heading back to the infirmary, you spot Ghost and Soap talking outside, Ghost looks at you and lowers his voice, Soap also looks at you and nods, you see him holding the med kit in his hand.

As you approach, they both stop, both looking at you as you open the door.

"Afternoon" You say to Ghost,

"Goo' afternoon doc" Ghost said, taking a deep breathe as he stepped inside the infirmary. He looked around, it was nice, orderly and clean. A better state than before you came.

"Got the med-kit" Soap said, bringing out out of his pockets of his fatigues, it was rolled up and empty. You take it off him, "I'll give it to you once it's ready" You say, Soap nods but doesn't move

"Here's mine" Ghost said as he uncrossed his arms and brought his kit, it was fuller and heavier as it was placed on your hands.

"Right, I'll have a look in a bit." You say looking up at him and then to Soap who was still hovering.

"You alright?" You ask Soap

"Yeah, just..." Soap started looking at Ghost.

"Johnny, you had your check up, now bugger off" Ghost said turning to him, knowing exactly why he was lingering

Soap grinned at Ghost and then at you, he began to walk away but turned slightly

"Lt, if you wanna make the doc blush, all you gotta do is take your shirt off" Soap winks and teases closing the door

"Wa-What?!" You say stammer as Soap closes the door, you could hear him laughing on the other side.

Ghost whips his head from the door to see your wide eyed shocked face, you turn your head to meet his eyes, he taken in your doe-eyed expression.

"He took his shirt off on his own accord" Υοu blurt "Thought he was getting an ECG done" you say motioning to the empty space between you with your right hand as if to swat the memory away.

"It's alrigh' Johnny likes teasin'" Ghost says, he watches your face return to normal, and head to the back counter placing both med kits there and opening them up, examining the contents.

Ghost watched your back, like he did this morning.

"Sorry about yesterday" He says looking at your back, he watches your head come up, listening.

"I was out of line, you're good.." He added "Just was.. cautious" Ghost added slowly. He felt his right hand reach up out to you, wanting to tell you it's...

You take in his words.. inhaling for four, you turn around and head back to where Ghost was, exhaling for four.

Ghost swiftly brought his right arm down in his back pocket of his jeans. He looked at you and you smiled, he relaxed a bit more.

"Thank you lieutenant" You say, accepting his apology, you still feel like he somehow... For some reason he still despises you...

You look up at him and smile, he nods back, you his eyes crinkle a bit, hopefully smiling underneath that mask...

Ah the mask and the clothes... You always observed him wearing long sleeve shirts or sweaters, no t-shirt in site so far...

"So.. I'm going to check your blood pressure, pulse, weight, height..." You trail off looking at his blue eyes grabbing the clipboard on the tray.

Ghost blinks and looks back at your deep brown eyes, framed by your black mascara'd lashes "Yes doc..." He says slowly

"I understand the mask stays on, but need to take a neck reading for body temperature if that's okay?" You add looking down from his eyes to his shoulders then to your clipboard.

"Of course" Ghost says, lifting the hem of his mask to reveal is neck. You were entranced by the sudden willing nakedness of his neck, the hem stopping under his chin with his ungloved hand; snapping out of the haze you grab the IR thermometer and press the button, you look back at his neck and notice a mole on the pale skin covering his jugular.

The thermometer beeps, screen turning green, 36.8 ℃. Good. Placing the thermometer down, you grab the chart and jot it down.

Ghost pulls his mask down, watching you scribble out parts on the form. He unzips his jacket, revealing his own black pullover hoodie.

You look up and notice your lieutenant take his jacket off, and then reach for the hem of his hoodie. Leaning on your heal you turn your back.

Please don't strip down like Soap you plead trying not to imagine what his naked torso would look like.

After taking his hoodie off, and folding it on top of his jacket. He looks and sees you've turned fully, your back facing him, smirking slightly under his mask, he wonders if he should tease you and take his shirt off too...

Turning back to face the Lieutenant, you see him wearing a black t-shirt which hug snuggly to his muscular torso. Grabbing the blood pressure cuff you bring it next to him. You notice on his left fore arm a myriad of different tattoos.

Ghost watches as you move towards with a blood pressure machine, he rolls up his sleeve of his t-shirt, he gazes at your brown hair now braided, slightly messy, as few strands have fallen out are now tucked behind your ear, he notices two small silver hoops hugging your cartilage.

Unravelling the cuff, you wrap it around his chiseled bicep, you noticed a few scars up and down his arm, even a few on his hand, but you didn't say anything or linger on them too long. Not when you knew how awkward it is when people stare and make remarks of your own scars.

Looks bigger than my thighs you think, admiring the muscles laying underneath the flesh of his upper arm.

The cuff did not fit fully. You look up at Ghost, he was looking at you, your eyes widened slightly.

"Good thing the machine came with an extra large cuff" You smirk, taking the cuff off the machine and heading to the drawers he cleaned last week.

"Good thin'" Ghost repeats, sitting up taller, observing the way your white coat glided with your movements. Your left breast pocket filled with pens, he noticed some writing underneath the pocket, but couldn't decipher it.

Walking back to Ghost with the XL cuff, you plug it in the machine, unravel it and placed it around his arm above his elbow. You swiftly look at the tattoos again on his left arm; a black monochromatic piece, a wonderful chaos of skulls, a dog tag, guns and other army related pieces.

Your cold fingers grazed his warm skin, Ghost felt the cold ripple all the way to his chest. He watched on as you adjusted the cuff.

"That alright?"

"Yeah" Ghost says

He watches as you press the machine and watch the numbers go up, he felt the cuff tighten as it filled with air around his arm. The air hissed and he watched the numbers fall down. 137/88

Grabbing the clipboard and the pen, you jot down the numbers, and you frown slightly.

"You've got high blood pressure"

Ghosts huffs Great he moans in his head

"How old are you?"

"34" Ghost grumbled

"How's your diet?" You ask looking up at him

"Alrigh'"

"Are you taking any drugs, legal or illegal?" You ask

Ghost looks at you, stunned by the wording of your question

"Legal?" He asks narrowing his eyes at you. You gotta be pullin' my leg

"Paracetamol, simvastatin, antibiotics, opioid based pain relief etc" You say

"And illegal?" Ghost asks perking up, curious as to where this will go...

"Cocaine, cannabis and other not so fun things" You add smirking at him.

"Only done the legal kin', paracetamol and hold up - opioid based pain relief? Ghost whips at you, now realising what you said.

"Morphine, codeine and oxycodone" You say "They're legal but addictive like heroin."

Ghost takes it in, of course, he had his own familial experience with that dark side of drug addiction. Tommy...

"Just paracetamol and antibiotics from injuries in the field" Ghost said quietly

"Okay" You say, jotting that down.

"Any new stress in your life?" You say looking back up to him

Ghost looks at you, and then back at the reading of the BP monitor, 137/88 flashes at him.

You observe Ghost, looking at the monitor

"High blood pressure is not worrying if we can correct external factors like diet, exercise and maintaining any stresses" You roll off your tongue.

Jeez you sound like the pamphlet you remember your mum getting from the nurse about high blood pressure You slide back slightly on your chair turning your head, manoeuvring yourself to the trolley tray, rolling your eyes to yourself as you aimlessly fiddle in the tray.

Of course these guys would have a few health issues, they are super elite soldiers, they've dealt with so much...

Ghost looks at you. He's been here before, doctors telling him to change this, do that, etc etc...

You grab the pulse oximeter and move back over to Ghost.

Alright, Sergeant Riley taking your advice; sarcastic comment, time to throw that..

"Look, I sounded like a damn pamphlet, but I'm here for all your health needs" You say bringing your hands up to your sides, foolishly giving him jazz fingers and you smile with teeth.

Ghost scoffs a laugh out, then clears his throat turning his head to the side.

"No new stresses" Ghost says, his gaze back to you, he watches you raise an eyebrow and tilt your head.

"Not even me?" You add, remembering the encounter yesterday after the target course.

Staring into your narrowed brown eyes Ghost knew it was you who was slightly causing stress. Ghost shook his head and then looked at the BP monitor again.

You get up and take the cuff off his arm. You show him the pulse oximeter, and he brings his hand up, you clip it on his forefinger.

"What time do you usually get up?" You ask, remembering the encounter this morning at around 5am.

"Couldn't sleep last night if you're referrin' to this morning" He says looking up at you

You nod back at him, your lip curved slightly. 98% and a pulse of 72bpm. Strong heart

"Not able to get to sleep or wake-up in the middle of the night?" You ask writing down the readings of the oximeter.

"Both" Ghost grunts

"Have you tried any medicine for sleeping?" You ask

"That herbal stuff, calm, from Boots" he said

He watches as you wrinkle your nose. "Didn't work?" You say

"Yeah"

"I'll give you zopiclone, just one, for tonight, see how it goes and we will have another check-in tomorrow" You add, heading to the small locked cabinet and cut out one tablet from the sheet. Locking the cabinet, you head back and give it to Ghost, he places it in his jean pocket.

He continues gazing upon your movements, your hand flicking back a strand of hair that got near your amber brown eyes.

"Take it an hour before sleep, avoid going on your phone and alcohol and should help with aiding sleep. Keep water or squash nearby as it can have metallic aftertaste" You command softly whilst writing away on the clipboard sitting on the stool.

Ghost looked at you, all this seemed so natural coming out of you. He nods along, mesmerised with your poise and assertiveness. That's the rookie you remember from all those years ago. He smirked under his mask and leaned forward a bit.

"How was the herbal tea?" You ask looking back up

"Eh?" He guffles, how could you know?

"This morning, I could smell lavender, was that your tea?" You say, eyes becoming doe-eyed.

'Course, the smell of lavender was soothing, especially after that... episode... nightmare

"Yeah Doc"

"Does it help?" You ask

"Sort of, chamomile and lavender tea..." Ghost begins and then pauses.

Gazing upon his eyes, which shifted left to right as he spoke to you. His cool blue eyes strike yours, they were even icier against his blonde eyelashes.

Ghost looks at you, he notices the writing on your white coat, Dr Hari Kaur Neurosurgery threaded in black cursive under the pocket full of pens.

"What abou' you?" Ghost asks, he notices your eyes narrow.

"What do you mean?"

"You were up early" Ghost retorted

Tilting your head back, your roll your head around. Maybe if I open up, he'll too...

"Bad dream woke me up." half-lying to him. You didn't want to talk about Siberia, not now..

Ghost watched as your eyes lost a bit of brightness, becoming dull.

"Tea help?" He asked, trying to bring that brightness back in your eyes

"Tea always helps" You smirked

"What one you have?" Ghost asked, knowing full well you had Tetley.

"Tetley, but I prefer PG tips" You grinned, eyes twinkling again.

"Oooh" he sucked in some air "Yorkshire is best" he sighed

"Tetley is from Yorkshire!" You snapped

"Was from Yorkshire" He retaliated "Run by an Indian company now, Yorkshire Tea is still based in Yorkshire" He added crossing his arms and puffing his chest out.

You scoff at him, looking away and then back at him, admiring his chiseled torso.

"Actually prefer chai, with PG tips" You quipped

"Hmm" Ghost says "Maybe you could use my Yorkshire Tea next time and I'll judge" he added

Nodding back at him you get off the stool. "Next time for tea then?" he nods back.

Ghost watches and listens as you ask him to step on the weight balance, and checks his height. He continues to gaze at you as you complete other checks needed, obliging your every command willingly. It was the least he could do after the way he treated you.

You would understand if he told you later convincing himself that now is not the right time.

You would understand, bad people are out there

He gives a nod and a yes comes out of his mouth, as you say something about his med-kit, his eyes drawn in on your back as you walk to the counter checking their contents again.

You would understand, it's safer for Simon Riley to remain dead to you.

Ghost looks at you, wondering if you ever thought about Simon Riley...

"I am the death of everything you know and love" Roba's voice echoed faintly in his skull

You would understand

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