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thewhitewitch-bitch · 5 days ago

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In Astris Supra (Chapter 5: Circulus Insutus Fato, Portas Abditas Resera)

Agatha Harkness x F!OC

Read it on AO3

October 1710

There is no amount or combination of words sufficient enough to capture the true horror of war. Even those who avoid the front face of conflict are subject to the cruelty and tragedy that befalls men at arms. There is heartbreak, sorrow, and a pain so immense that it blankets the battlefield and all that surrounds it like a straitjacket, constricting everything until it chokes both sides of the conflict and creates suffering.

I had not truly known suffering like that. Not even when I left Salem behind in pursuit of a nobler calling, one that would hopefully allow me to one day return to Agatha Harkness and offer her a solution. At the time, I could only assume that she had remained in Salem, carving out her own place in the town and wreaking havoc on those who dared to get in her way. From what I could gather, based on the cries of newsboys from Boston to Philadelphia, the Witch Trials had come to an end, the town nearly destroyed by their own paranoia. It made me wonder just how much influence Agatha had gained in just a few short months, made me try to recall if I could have had the opportunity to see the signs of her inevitable descent into power mongering.

But I couldn't. No matter how hard I tried, I could not bring myself to think that she had done so willingly. The love that I had for her remained, despite my best efforts to suppress it. At night, I dreamed of the days we spent together, when there was no barrier between us, no coven driving a wedge between her and her potential for good. Those memories would bring on what ifs that were as blissful as the feeling of her touch on my skin. What if we had left Salem before her mother had found us out? What if I had told her of my love for her before it was too late? What if we could have been happy simply being together, with no magic to get in the way?

"Lots on your mind this morning, eh, Ms. Stuart?"

My thoughts were abruptly cut off by the voice of the man I was traveling with. Looking over at him from the back of my horse, I smiled wistfully and nodded. Dr. Rupert Kingsley was a rather handsome and kind young man, who came straight off the boat from London proper, with wide, dark eyes and light brown hair the shade of molten bronze. Had my interests been aligned with his, I likely would have married him as soon as the opportunity presented itself, but he was well aware that our paths were parallel to each other, never meant to cross but rather to guide each other to the right destination. So, as a talented young physician, with no ward or servant, he accepted me as an unofficial student and permitted me to travel with him as he moved from Boston northward along the coast of the colonies and into the wilds of French-controlled Acadia.

"There's always a lot on my mind, Dr. Kingsley. Today though, the thoughts are just a tad bit louder than usual." I replied, tightening the grip on my reins. My gaze fell from the doctor to my hands, buried in the black mane of my mare.

"I'm sorry to hear that." Rupert said solemnly, "But I'm afraid you're going to have to silence them. There's no place for loud thoughts on the battlefield. If you want to be a doctor, and I know you do, you have to calm your mind and senses. Leave no room for distractions, they only lead to mistakes, and mistakes lead to death."

"Of course."

We did not speak again after that, instead allowing the silence to be filled by the beat of our horses' hooves beneath us as we urged them forward to a lively trot and continued on the path northward. It had been a week since we had crossed into Acadia, and with Lieutenant-General Nelson on the move with nearly 2,000 men intent on laying siege to the French at Port Royal, we had little time for dawdling.

The troops were meant to make landfall at their destination any day now, a cohort of doctors and their associates not far behind. From there, it was simply the task of removing the French, an objective that had proven surprisingly difficult for the British forces as of late. But the British were unwilling to cave, which was why Dr. Kingsley thought it the perfect opportunity to 'break me in' to the world of mortal medicine. I was thankful that he remained blissfully unaware of my magic, the late nights spent practicing healing spells on wounded animals or patients that had come into his Boston office seeking extended treatment.

In combination with his medical prowess, I found that my magic was sufficient enough to reduce treatment time by nearly half, even with the most basic of spells. And while my power continued to fluctuate with the phases of the moon, I came to the discovery that at different phases, my spells reacted differently with the wounds and diseases they came into contact with. During a dark moon, I might be able to stop a person's vomiting with a simple digestive potion, but the same potion would have no effect on a patient with the same symptom if the moon was waning or it might make matters worse if administered during the full moon. Trial and error, as crude as it may sound, was the only way I was able to make any headway. The results of said experiments were all jotted down in a small black leather book that was tucked in the belt around my waist, a protective rune hidden just under the cover, making it impossible for anyone but myself to read its contents.

Kingsley thought nothing of it, mostly because he didn't know that I had anything to do with sudden improvement or worsening of conditions amongst his patients. I intended to keep it that way for as long as I could, or at the very least until the end of this war that Queen Anne was so insistent upon waging.

We trotted onward, surrounded on either side by pine trees and fog, dense and chilling in the early autumn air. The sun was hidden behind a heavy layer of gray clouds, the smell of petrichor hung over us warning of the impending autumnal rains that were sure to hit the shore at any time. The encampment for doctors and their associates was just past the bend in the road ahead, supposedly nestled amongst the pines beside the sheer cliffs of the Acadian shoreline. The not-so-distant sound of crashing waves roared and receded in its powerful, natural rhythm as we trotted on.

As we moved to the right of the road to take the bend, I felt a sudden presence, ancient and dark, reaching out to me from within the darkness beneath the trees. I tugged on the reins, bringing my mount to a halt as I scanned my surroundings. Under my breath, I muttered, "Mater divina me defendat hodie."

A seductive chuckle echoed in my ear, though I couldn't tell what direction it came from. My head began to swivel back and forth, trying to find the source, only stopping when I came face-to-face with a woman dressed in hues of black and green. The cloak she wore seemed to fade into wisps of smoke as she stood not but five feet from me, a crown that appeared to crafted from fossilized thorns and obsidian resting atop the hood she wore. She had an entertained half-smirk upon her darkly painted lips, her eyes deep brown as the earth as they met my hazel gaze.

"Prayers aren't going to get you anywhere, princess. Not here, at least." she said with a bit of a laugh. My horse snorted and began to spook, shuffling away from the woman with a frightened snort. Not wanting to agitate her further, I slid from her back and let my boots land softly on the grass, keeping the reins in one hand as I tilted my head at the woman before me.

"You seem... familiar to me, and yet I know I've never seen you before in my life."

"I get that a lot."

There was a change of the light for only a moment, but in that brief time, I saw that the attractive face of the woman in front of me had changed. The lower half of her skull was exposed, no sinew or flesh to cover it, no blood or muscle to keep it living and the exposure spread down to her throat, where her esophagus sat nestled between two walls of cartilage. Just as quickly as the change appeared, it reverted back, and recognition hit me like a wall of stone.

"Lady Death." I whispered.

She smirked again, "In the flesh."

I should have been terrified, scared to... well, death. But there was something about her that told me there was no need for fear. She wasn't here for me. So why was she standing in front me now?

"Why reveal yourself to me?"

She shrugged and began to circle me and my horse slowly, "There's something about you... you're important. And as much as I hate having Lunar witches walking around, you need to stick around for a while."

"That’s not an answer."

"Are you sure?"

I glared at her. She continued to smile back. When I wouldn’t relent, her grin dropped and she rolled her eyes.

"You do know that most Lunar witches don’t live longer than a century, right?"

"I’m aware I’m on a doomed path.” I replied, trying to mask the slight tremble of my voice with a sharp edge, “A Lunar witch comes around maybe once every three hundred years. They never live long enough to teach the next one. Though I know you’re well aware of that."

"And yet, here I am, telling you that you’re the odd woman out."

"Why? What do you have to gain from my survival?"

Death scoffed at me, as if the whole concept of existence was amusing to her, "Nothing, actually. I'll lose more than I gain with you in the picture. But greater forces in this universe seem insistent on keeping you alive, so alive you’ll stay for now. But I must say, I'm looking forward to checking in on you over the next few centuries."

I paled, there was no way to hide it, "What do mean?"

"You're going into war, Aislin!" she exclaimed, as if it weren't obvious, "My favorite stomping grounds! We'll be seeing a lot of each other, I wager. Though I'm sure you'll be sick of me soon enough."

She stopped her circling and looked to me full on, the intensity of her earthy eyes feeling as though they could bury me beneath the soil with just a hard enough glance. The around me seemed to shift, the petrichor smell growing steadily stronger. With a final smile, she offered me a sultry wave and said, "Te veo."

And suddenly, I was alone in the clearing.

--------------------------------------------------

The doctors that had been summoned to serve did not take kindly to women in their presence. Of course, they had to tolerate the caretakers who sacrificed their white linens to the spatters of blood and fragments of flesh, but to have a woman stand among them as a student of the art, was far less palatable. After all, women had no place amongst the respectable ranks of surgeons and physicians, nor did the Iroquois healers who offered their services as their own warriors joined the British forces gathering on the coast, though given the choice, I'd have taken care from the Cayuga over Charles Cromwell any day.

Kingsley found me as I led my horse on foot through camp aimlessly with my saddle pack and bedroll tucked under my free arm. He had taken no notice of my sudden absence, nor had he been subject to a surprise meeting with Death herself, but simply kept on riding to camp, claiming his large-framed tent and a much smaller one beside it.

"Ah, did you get lost, Miss Stuart?" he asked me with a charming grin, "Or were you simply taking in the scenery?"

"A bit of both I suppose." I answered honestly. I took my horse to the hitching post and tied her there, allowing her access to the trough and a bale of fresh hay before turning back to the young doctor. "Have I missed anything?"

He shook his head, "Nothing at all. Lieutenant-General Nelson won't make landfall 'til midday on the 'morrow, at which time we'll board a smaller vessel and cross the channel to wait for incoming wounded and dead. I should warn you though, this siege may take weeks, months even. You still have time to return to Boston-"

I held up a hand to silence him, sending a sharp glare his way, "As much as I respect your offer, Rupert, I simply must decline. Despite the maliciously loud whispers I've heard about this camp already, I am most certainly needed here, so here I will stay. I do not shy away from the sword when it is flashed in my face."

Kingsley's grin softened in understanding, a small nod rocked his head back and forth, "Spoken like a true fellow of medical academia, Miss Stuart. I suggest you take the evening to study, and if you're so inclined, I'd write to your family. Simply because we bear the caduceus, it does not mean we are immune from cannon and gun fire. You'll find all you need for the night in your tent."

Overhead, the skies finally broke, the satisfying drip of rainfall pattering against the trees and the waxed canvas tents. A few of the horses snorted in discontent but continued to eat away at the hay in front of them. As the heavy drops landed on our shoulders and heads, chilling us to the bone, we gave each other a silent farewell and retreated beneath the cover of our tents for the night. While I had no doubt that Kingsley's tent boasted all the necessary equipment he would need for operations and examinations, not to mention cigars and cheap liquor to numb his mind to the horrors incoming, mine was much reserved, containing only a camp bed with several woolen blankets, a pair of white cover aprons, and a small bedside table with a pair of lit candles.

Rupert must have placed the small stack of parchment on the table, along with an inkwell and quill. There was no way the other doctors would have extended such kindness to me, not when they didn't even want me there. Heaving a loud sigh, I dropped my bedroll and saddle pack onto the ground at my feet. I slumped onto the camp bed and let my head fall into my hands, my interaction with Death replaying over and over again in my mind.

She had told me that I was important, though at the moment, I couldn't possibly see how. And the way she had looked at me, as though I were a fresh piece of bloodied meat and she was a ravenous wolf... it was unsettling, though I suppose she always intended to be.

"Oh, Divine Mother, what have you gotten me into?" I whispered, so softly that even I could barely hear myself. I dropped my hands and let my eyes wander back to the parchment on the small wooden table. I don't know how long I sat there staring at it, but by the time I had come to the conclusion to write, the gentle shower outside had increased to a torrential downpour, the weight of the water pounding against the roof of the tent as I dipped the quill into the murky black ink. As I took hold of the topmost sheet, I paused, wondering if sending a letter would make any difference. But then I thought of her, and the doubt melted away. I put the quill to the parchment and began to write in my most elegant script.

Darling Agatha,

I hope that this letter finds you in suitable spirits after we departed on such egregious terms. Not that I fear for your well-being; I know you are certainly capable of taking care of yourself. I write to inform you that I have undertaken a task most unbecoming for women of our talents and station, serving as the student and assistant of one Doctor Rupert Kingsley of Boston. We, in response to the request made by the British Crown, have joined a cohort of other physicians and surgeons at a posting in Acadia, not thirty miles from the French stronghold of Port Royal, and are awaiting the order to cross the channel to provide medical assistance during the attempted siege of the fort.

Having not heard from you in well over a decade, I am certain that you did not intend to seek me out again, and in truth, I was hesitant to write. But I am told that we, like the soldiers who will march onto the shore, will be subject to the shock and awe of war, and at the risk of walking into the next world without having settled the grievances between us, I found the courage to pen this letter.

You may no long care for me, you may no longer wish to think of me, but I think of you often. And I shall be thinking of you on the 'morrow, when cannons roar overhead and the blood of dying men coats my hands. I shall be thinking of the days we spent in the peaceful solitude of the forest, relishing in the quiet hours that we spent together. I shall be thinking of you not as someone I once knew, but as someone I know and care for. For a witch should never abandon her coven and I, in my own anger and fear, have abandoned you.

It is my hope that upon my, with any luck inevitable, survival, that we may cross paths again, and I will once again be able to relish in peace with you as we once did. Until then, I shall think of you, darling, and hope that you think of me.

With all my love,

Aislin Stuart

I set the quill down and folded the parchment carefully once the ink had dried. Muttering a simple sending incantation, I lifted the letter to the candle on the left and let one corner light, before repeating the gesture with the candle on the right. I gripped the parchment tight between my fingers as the flames inched closer to my hand until I could no longer hold it. As I released my grip, I whispered, "Agatha Harkness."

The ashes scattered in an invisible wind, drifting beneath the canvas walls of the tent and carrying my message to wherever she was. I lay back on my bed, and started at the roof in the eerie quiet, only drifting off to sleep when thunder finally began to roll in.

#agatha all along #agatha harkness #agatha harkness x oc #agatha harkness x reader #marvel cinematic universe #rio vidal

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cloveroctobers · 1 year ago

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OCTOBER PROMPTS 🦇 — 5. RIO

A/N: had a dream about my man the other night so I guess that was his way of telling me that he misses me? We love delulu!!! Anyways thought this would be fun to actually write something on the line of thriller/spooky this time around. This is me making up for not writing part two’s to my other fall inspired prompt on this man way back when. Hope y’all enjoy this 🧡🫶🏽!!!

PROMPT is from HERE + I’m using: A Begs B to come explore an old house that they believe is haunted. B is hesitant, especially after hearing the scary tales A knows so much about.

*GIF + PHOTO DO NOT BELONG TO ME!

WARNINGS: some France slander, language & hints of sexual content.

<- read my previous October anthology prompt here.

𒅒𒈔𒅒𒇫𒄆 𒅒𒈔𒅒𒇫𒄆 𒅒𒈔

Being in France for the month of October initially wasn’t the plan.

Khadijah and Rio ventured out here for a couple days for Khadijah’s birthday and for Rio to tie up some loose ends for business. What was supposed to be a four day trip turned into a much longer adventure.

“I know y’all done heard they got bed bugs out there, why are your asses staying out there longer?” Khadijah’s mother blurted into the FaceTime call.

Rio chuckled to himself by the mini bar, fixing himself something brown before entering the main living room part of the suite.

“Mom,” Khadijah hissed as she flicked through the channels, “this was a unexpected extended birthday trip.”

“Uh huh, sure it is.” The older woman said not entirely believing that, “Don’t think you can get cute on us and decide not to come back.”

“I’m already cute,” Khadijah modeled with extra shoulder as she sat on the tan couch while her mother brings the camera to show that she’s rolling her eyes.

“Well where do you think you get it from?”

“My father.”

“More like you got his smart mouth.” Khadijah’s mom comments, making her child hold up her finger to interject.

Now she loved her mom dearly but it was no secret that Khadijah was a daddy’s girl and her father’s favorite daughter despite what her two sisters thought. She was one of four children while her youngest sibling happened to be the only boy.

“Aw c’mon, don’t do Mr. Wells like that, especially if he’s not here to defend himself. Where is he anyway? It’s gotta be after 10:30 back home?” Rio came into frame, crouching behind Khadijah, who turned to peck his cheek before facing her phone once more.

The woman sighed, “where else? Working, working, working. I’ve been telling him he needs to slow down, he’s not some twenty year old no more. Lord knows it.”

Mr. Wells had a heart attack last year and had to have a stint put in. Rio’s never seen Khadijah’s so stressed before in his life and although the hardworking man had a good job with good insurance working for the city, they slammed him with some bills that Rio paid off. Which Mr. Wells wouldn’t let slide and already was in the process of paying back.

His choice, not Rio’s.

“He’s close to retirement and he loves supporting his family which is respectable.” Rio starts before joking, “once that happens then the both of you can come with us to Paris next time.”

“Uh uh. I’m never going over there, never had the desire to which is why I want y’all asses to get out of there fast!” Mrs. Wells’ large glasses come into frame now as she holds the phone at not the best angle, “I’d love to see Dubai or St. Lucia with Kayode, your father, and I guess your big headed brother can come too, Deej.”

Khadijah laughs, “yeah and he can bring Eliza too.”

“if I catch him even thinking about it, I’ll click my heels three times and send her bony ass right to hell.”

Laughter bubbles in Khadijah’s throat as she sends a teasing smile to Rio who winked back at his wife, knowing that neither of Khadijah’s parents were fond of their youngest child’s significant other. He was nineteen and found his supposed first love so it was evident that the pair were clingy and so in love with each other. They went to the same high school together, weren’t in the same cliques but ended up at the same community college and decided to give each other a try.

In shorter terms.

“We’ll make it happen,” Rio sighs as he comes around to plop down on the couch next to Khadijah, tossing a hand around the back of the couch, “minus Eliza right?”

“Damn straight,” Mrs. Wells humphed, “she can date somebody else’s son and boss them around for all i care. I just hope it’s over before thanksgiving.”

“Now Mom! Let’s not spread that negative energy for your birthday month, do you need some lavender and Kirk Franklin to keep your blood pressure down?”

The woman with the now bonnet secured around her micro locs fanned her hand, “I already had my session with Mr. Franklin around 7pm so hush! You know that’s what I’m wishing for and hoping you don’t wait around and decide to come back then.”

Khadijah blinks at Rio, who meets her stare. He had no plans of staying here longer than another few days, things got delayed and he offered to send Khadijah back to Detroit if that’s what she wanted but she had some vacation time that she didn’t mind using and she didn’t want to leave Rio behind either.

He’s been busy lately and she just knows as soon as they get back to Detroit, he’ll probably disappear for a little awhile again. So sue the woman if she wanted to be a little selfish and spend more time with her man.

“We’re gonna bring you something much better,” Rio smirks after taking a sip of his liquor, “maybe even a new bundle of joy.”

“WHAT?!” Mrs. Wells yells, “don’t play with me right now. When was your last cycle? I’ve been saying your tatas been looking fuller, ooooh I’ll have to tell your grandmomma.”

“Hey, hey! I’m not pregnant—

“Yet. We’ve been practicing though.” Rio announces, biting down on his bottom lip while Khadijah gasps and shoved at his knee.

Mrs. Wells claps her hands in joy, “y’all keep doing that but don’t bring those bed bugs back with you.”

“We won’t and did our research. If it makes you feel any better, we’re leaving this hotel tonight to stay at this castle for the rest of our trip and then tomorrow we’re gonna go explore this historic house since Rio wanted to have a rest day.” Khadijah informs her mother while Rio slowly nods his head, not knowing of the exploring a house portion but they’d discuss it later.

Mrs. Wells yawns as she sits up in bed now, “sounds fancy but okay then, mom’s tired and ready to knock out. But continue to be safe, the both of you and I’ll see you soon?”

“You sure will, night momma Wells.” Rio gave a two finger salute while Khadijah shared, “I love you’s, talk soon.” Before hanging up the call.

Khadijah leans back against the couch with a sigh, “told you mom’s got serious seperation anxiety all thanks to Kaliyah moving to Toronto with her girlfriend and we’re only traveling!”

“Which is exactly why I tried to smooth over her worries with baby talk, it worked didn’t it?” Rio lifts a thick brow while Khadijah shrugs her shoulders.

Soon she rests her head on Rio’s chest, locking her arms around his waist, “it’ll happen when it’s meant to…and we need to make sure we’re all packed for our new temporary home.”

“Oh I know I am, it’s you you gotta worry about mamas.” Rio presses a kiss to Khadijah’s rosemary scented hair.

Khadijah scoffs, “sorry but I had to buy more for this trip…which I’m not complaining! BUT! Paris’ fashion is really for the petite girlies.”

“They’re forreal missing out on the inclusion and better get on that.” Rio hummed.

“Siobhán is.” Khadijah grins while Rio slowly dips his head at the mention of his old designer friend.

Before Khadijah could get into asking about how she’s been doing, Rio sips from his drink once more and changes the subject, “what’s this about exploring tomorrow?”

“We maybe moving into a castle mansion for a little awhile but there’s no way I’m staying cooped up any longer without seeing what Dordogne has to offer.” Khadijah tells her husband with the perfect pronunciation of the town—or rather department as France calls it.

Rio raises the hand the rests against his wife’s shoulder, “heard you, mamas. No arguing on my part but you know it’s beneficial to have reset days too.”

“Which YouTuber told you that?” Khadijah smirks up at the buzz haired man, figuring that he was probably logged onto her account instead of switching over to his own to watch whatever it is he gets into.

Rio snorts, “don’t try and play me, my aesthetician did.”

“Of course they did.” Khadijah nods believing that since Rio didn’t mess around when it came to his skincare, “and you’re right, there’s nothing wrong with rest days. You’ve been running around x2 compared to me so I get it. You get a nap in and I’ll get the bags ready since we have what? An hour before the service comes and gets us.”

Rio grips Khadijah’s hand as she gets up from the couch, “you sure all an hour is what you need?”

“Shut up, Christopher.” Khadijah laughs, matching Rio’s smile before leaving the man to get his nap on.

With the city life behind the married couple, they settled in Dordogne late last night into the 18th century home. Surprisingly Rio wakes up late the next day, like around eleven am late compared to his seven am timeline. However Khadijah doesn’t mind letting him sleep, snapping a picture of his rest with the camera she brought along for the trip. She watches the clock from time to time, knowing just when to order breakfast to be sent to their room.

Khadijah’s sitting on a olive couch pushed underneath the windows which are half pulled back, sipping on caffe viennese, stomach half full from a classic French breakfast as she stares out into the scenery acting like the main character in a Victorian film.

“Morning, mamas. You starting the day without me?” Rio’s rough morning voice greets the brown skinned woman, who glances over her shoulder at him.

A soft smile meets her full lips, “good morning but someone has to get this party started. But don’t worry, I’ll never not let you in on the thrill. Got you one of these,” she holds the mug up in the air, nodding with her chin on the nightstand next to the man, “and there’s breakfast waiting for you underneath the cloche.”

“Did I mention hearing you speak French is sexy?” Rio states as he slowly sits up in bed, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

Khadijah smirks, “plenty when you were tipsy on the late night ride here.”

“I regret nothing,” Rio laughs before turning to reach and sip at the warm coffee, “this is delicious.”

Khadijah pops her tongue, “Yeah it is.”

“What we doin’ today? Hold up, what time is it?” Rio turns his eyes into slits, reaching for his phone to let out a low whistle, “damn, haven’t slept that long—

“Since you got shot?”

Rio let’s out a cough, “whoa, that was dark.”

“Sorry,” Khadijah says, “kinda just slipped out.”

“Something you wanna talk about, Dija?” Rio hums, staring at his wife from their temporary shared bed.

Khadijah shakes her head, “nothing I want to get into on this brand new day, no. So!”

She uncurls her feet from underneath her to stand in her floral print lace trim set, placing a smile on her lips as she plops down on the bed. Taking a quick sip of the coffee again, she places it on her side of the nightstand and reaches inside to pull out two slips of paper.

“Close your eyes.”

“Why?” Rio suspiciously tries to peek at the papers but Khadijah slaps them right on her chest.

“You asked what we’re gonna do.”

“Didn’t you say exploring some house last night?” Rio frowns, trying to remember.

Khadijah’s little smile to herself seems wicked but as soon as it appeared it vanished while she wiggled a bit on the bed, “that’s tonight’s adventure after dinner. We have at least a few hours before then to do something else so…pick one, anyone.”

The two options were: Château des Milandes OR Canoeing on the Brantôme.

Rio doesn’t wipe the frown off his brows but holds out his thumb and pointer finger while Khadijah holds onto the deck of two pieces. The tatted man makes a show of taking his time debating, just to irritate Khadijah for a little until he smiles picking the paper to the left.

And the winner is…

“Great choice! Now get your butt up and let’s shower, they’ve been open since 9 this morning.”

Chateau des Milandes!

Rio hums as he studies the paper, sipping at his coffee then replies, “can I enjoy my breakfast along with the view first?”

Khadijah dramatically sighs as she flops beside Rio, resting on her elbow to stare back at the ajar windows, “oh fine but I promise you, the one outside is much better.”

“personally I like the one right next to me.”

Khadijah flicks her head back to meet Rio’s brown eyes and she can’t help but to let a smile split over her lips, then puckering them for Rio to peck and lick his own smiling lips afterwards, “you think you’re so smooth.”

“I mean give a guy some credit. How else do you think I got you?” Rio chuckled while Khadijah just nodded her head from side to side mockingly.

“Just eat your food Christopher.”

It was Rio’s turn to mimic his wife.

“Aight, Khadijah.” He said over his shoulder, sitting on his knees and reaching over for the second tray of food.

Chateau Des Milandes was a sight to see and was a wonderful experience. Ugh!!! here Khadijah was sounding like her very emotional Granny Mozella but she never took moments like these with Rio for granted. On the outside it may seem like Rio was only street smart since that’s what he preferred yet he didn’t mind listening in on historical facts from time to time and no he wasn’t really into podcasts—unless it was true crime content—but no one could ever say he wasn’t open to learning new material and translating it into his own life.

He was good at finding purpose in anything.

He also liked draping his arm across Khadijah’s shoulders as they took the tour around the home that used to be owned by the successful Josephine Baker. That was more interesting to Khadijah than the Lords that lived it way before Ms. Baker but nonetheless they took it all in together including the architecture.

No one could deny that France had a way with its design and art.

They explored the garden, which led to a picnic and wine for dinner with the French sunset as the perfect backdrop, then they ended their time at the Chateau with a bird experience, much to Rio’s surprise as Khadijah winked and placed a kiss on the tattoo on his neck, before clenching onto his arm for dear life once the various of birds—specifically the one that was very similar to the one on Rio’s skin started flying around.

Rio found amusement in that, even when they made it back to the rental car.

“If that big ass bird would have crapped on me, we would have been having a whole different type of bird for thanksgiving this year.” Khadijah continuously checked her outfit for any unfamiliar marks, the paranoia getting to her.

Rio couldn’t help but to throw his head back against the headrest laughing. “They’ve been trained, that wasn’t gonna happen. Plus it may just wanted a strand of your hair for warmth, huh? French winters can be brutal so I hear.”

The man went to curl a strand of his wife’s loose curl that framed her face who scoffed at him.

“You’re far from funny, Mr. Montoya.” Khadijah slapped his hand away to fix her pin curl updo in the drop down mirror.

Rio chuckled some more, watching her, “you’re right…I’m hilarious, Mrs. Montoya.”

“Im glad you had fun, baby. I can tell the bird part was your favorite,” Khadijah gave the man a playful side eye, “but now it’s time for my activity.”

Rio glanced at the watch on his wrist, “it’s going on seven…what else you trying to get into besides drinking more wine and eating cheese?”

“Whew! No more cheese for me.” Khadijah flicked the sun visor back up, “so…I have this other place to visit.”

Rio tapped on the GPS, “aight, what’s the address?”

“I don’t think the GPS will fully locate it…just to a certain point.”

Rio thought about this for a second and asked, “what? It’s some underground event or something?”

“Well sure, yeah. Kinda.” Khadijah shrugged her shoulders making Rio sigh and sit back with his hands clasped.

Khadijah was tapping away on her phone for a moment while Rio just studied her. When she realized the car wasn’t moving, Khadijah turned her attention back to Rio who was patiently waiting for her to come right on out with it.

“We’re not going anywhere until you give me the info I need. No shady shit allowed.”

Khadijah turned sideways to face Rio, “Okay so…there’s this house that we should see.”

“You said that already. But Why? To buy?”

“Hell no,” Khadijah was quick to say, further making Rio put his guard up as to what this whole adventure was even about, “I mean no…yeah no that’s exactly what I mean. It wouldn’t be for us to live…just to see.”

Rio pried, “what’s so special about it?”

“It has a colorful story.”

“Which is…?”

“The year was 1666–

“Nah,” Rio immediately said leaning forward to start the engine but Khadijah flew her hand out to stop Rio from switching the gears.

“You didn’t let me finish.”

Rio leans on the console to completely face Khadijah, “by the way you’re dragging this out let’s me know you’re about to tell me some bullshit, that you know I’m not about to let fly.”

“Can’t a bitch add some extra flavor to the tale?” Khadijah scrunches up her face, “Sheesh.”

“Stop playin’ with me, Dija.”

“So hostile,” Khadijah flicked her hair off her shoulder, “alright you want the synopsis? Got it. So this house is special because during the year of 1666 a woman named Blanche lived there with her father, mother, two siblings, and new husband. Allegedly she was later accused of poisoning her family and beheaded her husband after they all suspected she was a witch because of some rumors started at the hospital she volunteered at. Her sickly father was the one to put her down after his wife and other children slowly started to die one by one. They say Blanche still haunts the home and asks when and or if you visit, to leave a ribbon and tea bag’s on their front step as a offering and for her to rid any vengeance in your life.”

Rio caressed his facial hair in thought, “Question for you, mamas? Did that eagle peck at your brain when i wasn’t around or…”

Khadijah sucks her teeth, “it’s spooky season, asshole!”

“I know that,” Rio lifts his shoulders carelessly, “but you’re trying to get into some serious shit and I can tell you one thing: I’m not feelin’ it.”

“Are you scared?” Khadijah leaned into the center console ready to comfort him, “I never said we had to go inside the house. Just see it and leave something for Blanche.”

Rio didn’t miss how Khadijah started to trail her hands over him but he didn’t fold, “Her business ain’t ours.”

It was Khadijah’s turn to laugh now, “you’re definitely scared!”

“No I’m not.” Rio scowled, “I’m just saying you have to be careful what you expose yourself to. I told moms we’d bring her back a baby, not a witch that may latch onto your body.”

Khadijah frowns, “why would you think Blanche would latch onto mine and not yours?”

“Whoever! And I really can’t wrap my head around the fact that you’re trying to mess with some spirits.”

Khadijah wasn’t trying to “‘mess with spirits,” she always respected the dead but this sounded better than visiting the catacombs to be honest.

So she challenged, “Hey! It’s something to do.”

“I can find plenty of other things we can get into.” Rio placed his chin into the palm of his hand, “We’re not about to be here much longer anyway.”

Khadijah sighs as she grabs Rio’s hand to place in her lap, “I’ll let you try out our new toy at the same time while you’re inside…”

Rio’s eyes begin to darken as they meet Khadijah’s much lighter ones. This was a promising bargain and this Khadijah knew as Rio trailed his own hand up her stomach, between her breasts, and to grip her chin.

“You’re lucky I love you,” Rio states as he presses their lips together and leads the way with his tongue dancing along hers.

It’s passionate and a little nasty just the way the married couple liked their kisses but brief enough that he leaves Khadijah panting on the passenger side. He smirks to himself, lifting up from the driver’s side to pull out his Glock 17 from his black jeans to rest on the dashboard.

“Put your seatbelt on,” Rio tells Khadijah who shortly follows through, “and not a word of this to my abuelita.”

Khadijah makes a cross my heart motion as Rio puts the car in drive.

The drive to this supposed haunted home was a good half hour north from where they were staying and the decline of the countryside was clear. There seemed to be no livelihood as the skies got even darker. Rio could sense to the left of him that Khadijah seemed to be at unease the deeper they got into the area.

He checks in, “How we doing?”

“Hm? Oh, there it is. Stop.”

Rio turns his attention back to the lack of road up ahead and notices that there’s a tunnel with no lighting. He steps on the breaks, witnessing to the left of the tunnel the narrow road carried upwards to what exactly? That he didn’t know. There was no homes or animals in sight on this drive since they started getting further away from the chateau.

“What’s this?”

“That’s the tunnel that leads to Blanche’s house.” Khadijah is sitting on the edge of the passenger seat now.

Rio tightens his hold on the steering wheel, eyes scanning the scenery with the help of the automatic headlights. If they went through that tunnel, which was surely to be just as narrow as the roads out here in the countryside he wasn’t positive they would make it back. His intuition was telling him since the beginning that this didn’t feel right and being physically here was enough to confirm that for Rio.

Turning his eyes into slits towards the right of the tunnel, Rio can see a decaying headstone with a bunch of colorful ribbons tossed around and possibly some rocks that were most likely teabags scattered below it.

“This is what you came for,” Rio says keeping his eyes on the road.

“Oui-Oui.” Khadijah says suddenly halfhearted and any other time Rio would have laughed but the expression on her face made him aware that the tension was also felt by her as well.

Rio steps on the gas, driving full speed towards the tunnel but stops just at edge, parallel to the headstone, making Khadijah grip the dashboard at the abruptness.

“Get going, sweetheart.” Rio tells Khadijah with a lift of his chin.

Khadijah swallows, prying her eyes away from the tunnel then to the headstone and back to her husband. “W-what? You’re not coming with me?”

“I never said I was going in there. I have sense.” Rio tapped at his temple.

Khadijah glares, “wow. So here’s to trying new things was just another one of your lies then huh?”

“Another? Don’t go there, I’m not doing that with you this evening. You brought this terrible idea to me and I brought you here so go head, show me you’re the one who isn’t scared.” Rio’s hardened stare was now on the fuming woman.

Khadijah didn’t know what the fuck Rio’s problem was and why he thought this energy was okay? Khadijah didn’t like Rio’s tone so she snatched her baguette bag from beside her feet and went to push on the door but remained right inside.

“Are you serious?!”

Rio made a U-Turn and began driving back in the direction they came, “are you forreal thinking I’m about to have our asses messing around with the actual dead? Let alone your indecisive ass? And we don’t even have the full context?”

“I mean…do you not have bodies? You don’t see me questioning you about them.” Khadijah muttered.

Rio snapped his eyes to his wife, “two completely different things and you know that.”

It really wasn’t but okay, if Rio hated her riding the fence then let’s see if he hated it now.

“Whatever.” Khadijah slouched against the seat, “You just wasted our time, like why entertain the fact that you were with it if you’re just gonna try to clown me?”

“I wasn’t letting you do that and you should have known that.” Rio clenched his jaw, “I would never willingly put you in harm’s way and that’s exactly what you were signing up for.”

Khadijah knows Rio wouldn’t and if she wanted to be petty she could but she just mumbles, “You just ruined spooky season in France like?”

“Better throw that ribbon and teabags out the window and get glad. Who knows what would have happened if we went down that dark ass tunnel with only the Glock against a whole spirit mind you, that we don’t even know if she’s still vengeful or not.”

“I mean you make valid arguments…and I don’t even know if the house is still standing. The last update online was from 2021 so I guess I can’t be too pressed about it.” Khadijah explains as she starts to search through her bag, “but you can’t say I was indecisive this time, yet you locked me in here like I’m a child.”

Rio deeply exhales, rubbing at his face in slight aggravation, “yeah we gotta get back to Detroit and quick. I think you need to go back to work and continue spreading peaceful energy at that non-profit instead whatever this is.”

“What?” Khadijah sucked her teeth, “Trying to be on theme?”

“We could easily rent a movie at the spot and call it a day.”

“I wanna be one with nature!”

“As soon as we get far away from Blanche’s murder site, I’ll take the locks off so you can touch some grass.”

“Ohhhh, I cannot stand you!” Khadijah scowled followed by some laughter before ghosting her fingers over the window button, “is this going to work for me or am I still being held hostage?”

Rio just hums to himself, glancing in the rear view spotting a blur of white in the distance along with something that wasn’t tumbleweed rolling right by their feet.

Khadijah doesn’t notice as she cracks the window to toss a pink ribbon and a teabag out on the dirt road.

And when she looks in the rearview, she doesn’t see anything unusual or creepy. So she rolls her window back up and presses her elbow into the arm of the door, resting her cheek along her fingers, watching the night scenery whip by her highlighter eyes.

Soon Rio’s hand reaches for the Glock to rest in the cup holders before sneaking his hand over to bring Khadijah’s hand up to his lips. He knew she was a little sour with him over this and probably a bunch of other built up issues but Khadijah always tried to make the best of it.

Rio was trying to get better at validating her feelings but this shit right here was not it and Khadijah knew that inside. Which is why he had a more safer route up his sleeve to spend the day with Khadijah tomorrow since celebrating Halloween was apparently too american for the French. So he did the best that he could choosing a theme park that would be “on theme” for Khadijah’s spooky cravings.

That would be his gift to her and routine of keeping her best interest at heart, even if she didn’t fully want to see it that way sometimes…

Ah, she’ll be aight.

𒅒𒈔𒅒𒇫𒄆 𒅒𒈔𒅒𒇫𒄆 𒅒𒈔

Continue along with my October anthology prompts here.

#Spotify #Rio good girls #rio x black!reader #rio x reader #october prompts #queued #spooky prompts #good girls nbc #Rio x oc #manny montana

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marleyybluu · 1 year ago

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Would you be okay writing some bestfriends brother!rio smut? :)

Don Julio

Best friends brother!Rio x f!black!OC (Honey)

Word count: 1.1k

Content warning: literally nothing, just swearing and hangovers lol, Honey is 21 and Rio is 26 (just testing a little age gap😗)

A/N: I just want to apologize to you anon because this request has been sitting in my inbox, collecting dust because I had no idea how to even come up with anything but here we are bitch.

decided to do OC because... I'm loving the OC streak that I'm on right now.

also, OC is written as a black woman in mind, I don't describe her in detail just yet.

There will be a part 2 yall don't worry

(Not my gif)

And that damn Don Julio made me a fool for you…

•• ••

Sunday mornings were for soaking in the regrets of Saturday night events, they were for dealing with pounding hangovers and lounging on the couch to recover. At least that's how most of her Sundays went and this one was no different. Light snores left her lips while the heat of the morning sun beamed on her bare back warming up her skin. She groaned as the heat became too much, suddenly she wished she hadn't been so drunk last night, she would've been able to close the curtains. She pulled the covers over her body and smiled, that felt better. She readjusted herself, getting in a more comfortable position, she sighed her eyes opening just for a millisecond but, in that quick time, she noticed something off.

Her room was blue... well no it wasn't, her room was actually Sage green. There were posters on her wall of old movies and her favourite artists, this wall didn't have any. Her eyes blew wide open when she realized the lack of softness in her pillow, well it wasn't a pillow at all it was someone's chest—slowlyrisingand falling with sleep. She sighed, of course, she had to start her Sunday in a stranger's bed. Honey sat up slowly, sleep very apparent in her bones as she stretched and her joints cracked, her head felt heavy and her eyes narrowed as she squinted away the bright light of the sun's beams. She groaned tossing the covers off of her legs, her lower half scantily clad, she laughed to herself and shook her head.

Her feet met the cold floor, she grabbed a shirt, she could only assume it was his, oh well-- he wouldn't mind would he?

Honey stumbled through the halls looking for a bathroom, her bladder full of last night's drinks and after pushing every door open she was finally successful in finding a bathroom. She closed the door for privacy while she handled her business as if this man hadn't seen every inch of her business the night before. Once she was done she wiped and flushed, washed her hands and splashed a bit of cold water on her face waking herself up and hoping to stay awake long enough to get home safely. She opened the door and flicked off the light making her way back to the room.

As she walked down the hall she noticed a wall of photos in her peripheral, she was curious and decided to take a quick look at the photos. She smiled at a family picture, two adults and two young children-- a boy with a bowl cut and a little girl with pigtails. Her head tilted. "Kinda looks like Cherry when she was a kid." Honey quietly said to herself. Her eyes scanned the wall, another picture of the children catching her attention, the boy doing bunny ears behind his sister while she cried. It looked... familiar. As if she'd seen it before. And, again, the little girl looked like Cherry. Cherry was Honey's best friend since kindergarten, you couldn't see one without the other, they were attached at the hip. Cherry did have an older brother, Christopher but everyone called him Rio, and if Honey remembered correctly... he did have a... bowl cut when they were younger.

Her heart dropped at the realization, she gasped softly. "No... no, no, no."

She quickly walked back to the room, she stood behind the wall taking in a deep breath before she leered past it to poke her head into the door frame. The not-so-mysterious man was now lying on his side, facing her, eyes still closed. Honey covered her mouth in utter shock, there was no way this was happening. Her eyes fell to the floor, their clothes mixed and scattered all over the boards along with an empty bottle of Don Julio 1942. She had to get the fuck out before he woke up, she quietly thanked God that Cherry was always at her man's house otherwise this would've been a very awkward morning. She tiptoed back inside the room, bending down to scoop up her pants, her top, her bra and her panties... sigh... where were her panties?

Honey shuffled around looking on top of his dresser, inside the drawers and under the bed. She couldn't find them, she'd have to leave them. She pulled on her pants and swapped his shirt for her own, she was putting her faux locs in a quick bun when suddenly her phone rang at a violently loud volume, it even vibrated against the wood of his nightstand.

"Shit! Shut up!" She whined through gritted teeth, in an attempt to quickly grab the phone she tripped over the empty bottle of tequila, just her luck. The loud thud caused a stirring in the bed, Rio groaned and yawned carefully sitting up. He shielded his eyes from the sunlight and shook his head, he had a pounding headache. "What the fuuuck." He grunted at the phone. Eventually, it stopped, and he blindly picked it up to see who it was. A missed call from his little sister, Cherry, but the longer he stared at the screen he noticed a picture of her and her best friend. His eyes popped, his lips parted slightly.

"Honey..." He called out unsurely and with the slight hope that she wasn't in the house.

"...Yeah?" She answered from the floor. "Oh... shit."

"Yup."

Honey got off the floor, stood on her feet and smiled sheepishly. "Hi..."

"Hi..." He returned. Rio scanned the room, his eyes widening at the empty bottle of Tequila, his hands covering his eyes. But even though this was not an ideal situation, his seeming frustration or maybe regret made her feel a way.

She'd always had a crush on Rio, but being her best friend's older brother, it was an unspoken rule that he was off limits. So, Honey just admired him from afar. God, he was... something. He was handsome. So fine. And the older he got, the better. He'd gotten taller, facial hair had grown in but those pretty brown eyes remained the same along with that charming smirk he always had. Then came the haircut and the tattoos and... oof! It levelled him up.

Rio cleared his throat, Honey blinked a few times realizing she'd been caught in her trance. "Sorry... I- sorry." Though she didn't know what she was apologizing for. She grabbed her phone and the rest of her stuff and dashed downstairs. Rio shook his head, "Wait." He mumbled still dazed with sleep and a wicked hangover.

"Honey-"

The front door slammed. Honey fumbled with her car keys, and as bad as driving intoxicated is— she quietly hoped she didn't drive here completely sober. Intentionally pulling up to fuck Cherry's brother? She would never let herself live it down. Fuck.

Her car started, the heavy engine rumbling and vibrating the walls of the Martínez house. Her tires screeched getting herself the fuck out of there.

Once she got home she slumped onto the couch, she checked her phone. Seven missed calls from Cherry, and a slew of text messages asking if she was okay, if she needed someone to talk to. Honey squinted trying to remember what happened, what would have her friend in a panic state. What did she do?

A hesitant finger hovered over her name in the call log, Honey tapped it and the phone rang only once before Cherry picked up. "Honey!? Bitch! Where were you? Are you okay?"

"I'm- Cher, I'm fine. I'm sorry if I scared you. But what... did I say?"

Cherry said, "You called me, you were crying about Julien," Her ex. "And then you left me a voice note like an hour later slurring your words, and then you were talking to someone else but— were you with him last night?"

She threw her head back on the cushion of the couch. "No, I wasn't with him I was with... someone else. Fuck. Look, I need some coffee in my system, my head is killing me. I'll call you tonight, and again I'm sorry for scaring you."

Also sorry for sleeping with your brother.

"It's fine, I'm just glad you're safe and... home?"

"Yes, home, I am home." She said nervously. "Okay, well, I'll talk to you later then. Love you."

"Love you too... bye."

The call ended, she tossed her phone on the couch. She had to at least try and remember what happened last night.

If you liked this fic free to like this fic, likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated.

peace and love, see you in the next one 🤙🏾

🏷: @darqchilddaydreamz @rio-reid-whoreee @skyesthebomb @bigenergy777 @realhotgurlshit @lovedlover

#rio x black!OC #rio x reader #rio #goodgirls #rio fanfic #marleysfanfictions #marleywrites #good girls rio #rio good girls

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sukunasbow · 29 days ago

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hii which should i post first

(not gonna spoil details of what each one is..just who it’s for)

#x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #seth cohen x reader #the oc x reader #agathario x reader #rio vidal x reader #agatha harkness x reader #anakin skywalker x reader #star wars x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds x reader

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e1dritchjackal0pe · 1 year ago

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Is it just me or is Rio hella Agora Hills coded ???

#rio x reader #rio x you #rio x beth #rio good girls #goodgirls #rio gg x reader #rio x oc #rio gg #manny montana #manny x reader #rio imagine #rio x black!reader #rio x m!reader

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corawithfanfiction · 1 month ago

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The Next Step Is Evolution & White Wolf and Polaris

all this time that i have spent away (episode 8)

episode 7 - episode 9

After Sam and Bucky detained Lorna (Polaris) and Remy (Gambit). During the interrogation, they learn why Remy was in the casino.

warnings: conflict, swearing, explosion, fight, human trafficking, gore, blood, depression, panic attacks, human limbs, unconscious amusements

✗

How could you lose yourself, how did that nervous breakdown come. What kind of uncertainty. Oh God! Oh God! Oh God!

With Remy's second blast, Lorna had used up the last of her strength. Her legs could no longer support her as the black flecks in front of her grew darker and darker. She felt a strong arm quickly grab her, but the rest was a blur to her dark mind.

Logan's body lay on the ground, as still as it had been for hours. Bucky and Sam didn't recognize the man on the ground. Or one of them had been telling him some lies. Either way, they had learned about him while Lorna was downstairs doing her show before the explosion. But the man was an enigma, even though Sam had sent him to Joaquin for information.

Lorna stirred uncomfortably where she lay with a throbbing head. She tried to hold her head with hands, but it didn't take her long to realize that her hands were tied. Blinking her eyes several times, she tried to clarify her vision, In the meantime, she had involuntarily fidgeted a lot. She couldn't stop her skirt from falling open, but she couldn't fix it with her bound hands.

As Remy let out a small whistle at the sight before him, Lorna saw that he was tied up too. He was trapped in the twisted pipes. Twisted pipes?

Sam and Bucky tore their gaze away from the young woman in front of them, causing Lorna o giggle involuntarily. "I'm okay with everything you've done - including being tied up against my will - but an unbuttoned skirt offends you gentlemen." Lorna involuntarily squirmed when she saw Bucky approaching her. Was she scared? She wasn't sure. I mean, she had heard stories about the Winter Soldier, but there was something very different about this man. Lorna couldn't put her finger on it, and frankly she wasn't sure if she would like it if she did. She continued as if all these thoughts were not confusing her. "What a great example of virtue!"

When Bucky came to Lorna's side, he bowed quickly. During this time he never broke eye contact. Eyes that were a shade of blue with a gray tint, like an eternity. Lorna shifted her gaze to his hands, trying to shake them off.

Bucky hadn't broken eye contact. Lorna could still feel his gaze on her face. Bucky idly smoothed Lorna's skirt with his metal hand. For a brief moment his fingers brushed Lorna's thighs. Even that fraction of a second took Lorna's breath away. When the young woman looked up at the man standing up, she saw that the blues were still in her own eyes. This made her swallow involuntarily.

As Bucky turned and walked back to his friend, Lorna did what she knew best to regain her composure. "Gentlemen, gentlemen," she managed to say, drawing attention back to herself. The pleasant attention never left her. Despite the sound of Lorna's voice, Bucky didn't bother to turn his gaze to the young woman.

"At least this is not where I want my hands tied, ah but if we are playing this game why don't we make it more fun." the danger in her eys was on her tongue. The dangerous smile on her face was growing by the moment.

"Look, young lady, this is not a game. You need to understand that first." Sam stepped into the conversation, finally deciding to turn his gaze to Lorna.

"Nobody claimed otherwise, big guy, calm down!" Lorna rolled her eyes. "Anyway, look, you've interrupted all my work and I don't have all this time. So if you'll excuse me," she turned to Remy. "Are you going to start telling me?"

With a deep sight, Remy drew attention to himself. "After you left, to go to the Academy, this place wasn't as much as it used to be. The people in charge decided to look for someone new, someone who would be famous for her family, but who would also be stronger than you. Someone who wouldn't leave us. In the meantime, they kept looking for you. Him too."

Remy began to explain the events in a matter - of - fact yet calm manner. Occasionally he paused for a few seconds between sentences to gauge Lorna's reaction. He had known the young woman for years, but this was certainly new for Remy.

"After a while they stopped looking you, at least you weren't the subject of meetings. It was like they had forgotten. No one was mentioning your name." He blew out his breath loudly. Sam and Bucky were listening to him carefully, but they didn't stop checking in on the young woman.

"After a while it started to get weird. I started looking for you outside the Casino. You know, it is nice that we still have a few secret places that they don't know about, if you remember." Lorna rolled her eyes and shook her head left and right as a flirtatious smile settled on Remy's face, but she too had a small smile on her face.

"Anyway, I wasn't always very popular at the Casino, they were used to me disappearing for long periods of time, so I disappeared for a while, pretending to be on the run from another theft-" Remy was interrupted by Lorna, "What did you steal this time Remy?!"

"To tell you the truth, L. I didn't steal much," his smile was extremely goofy. Lorna couldn't help frowning at the sight. "She stole my heart."

"Her," said all three of Remy's listeners at the same time.

Remy looked at them and laughed, but turned his gaze back to Lorna and continued. "I'm in love L. And for real this time." Remy laughed involuntarily as Lorna raised one eyebrow and looked at her old friend, Sam checking on Logan on the floor while Bucky listened with a frown.

"Don't get me wrong, honey, you and I had a really crazy love life. But let's not kid anyone, it wasn't exactly a love affair," the crooked smile on his face would have annoyed Lorna under normal circumstances, but here was Remy taking about someone else and his eyes sparkling. It wasn't something you saw very often.

"Anyway, stay on topic, L." He said, but he hadn't yet managed to wipe the goofy smile off his face. "When I was looking for you, suddenly she was all I could focus on. I admit she made me forget to even look for you. She had people on the run too," He sighed deeply and they realized he was getting angry. But Remy quickly continued. "She was with me when I went back to the Casino. I hoped maybe I could arrange something. I hadn't heard a word from you anyway." Although his voice remained calm, his clenched jaw gave him away. "So I thought I could at least help Anne Marie."

Lorna's eyebrows furrowed at the name. Her mouth formed a small 'o' and before she could say anything, Remy picked up where he left off.

"Casino had found that 'perfect' person. Stronger than you. Her family is strong and behind her. That ad name that won't leave them." He turned his eyes to the two men listening to him and waited a moment. As if searching for the right words. The silence was starting to get on Lorna's nerves and she couldn't take it anymore. "Who did they bring!" She asked. But it was more like an order than a question.

"Bella Donna Boudreaux"

Lorna wanted to get up quickly at the sound of the name, but her restraints prevented her from doing so. The fact that Bella had been brought to the Casino instead of her was the final straw that infuriated the young woman. Tragically funny. She thought this Casino had a better sense of humor.

As the brown of their eyes turned green in thin veins, the knife on Bucky's belt flew into the air, cutting the ropes that held Lorna bound. Before Bucky realized what had happened, Sam was ready to lash out, but Bucky stopped his friend.

"With all due respect, gentlemen, I'm here on a mission and," her gaze flickered to the eyes of the two men waiting to attack her, "If you are going to tie me up and do nothing, then you'll agree there's no point in me sitting here." Ignoring the sound of her heels on the floor, Lorna stomped over to Remy, pulled Remy out of the pipes and said,

"Come on, let's get littlr Anna Marie out of Bella's hands and get the hell out of here!" She said.

TAG LIST:

@oscarissac2099 @mandybug39 @elliegrace5853 @oxoxkittyxoxo

@redshinypearls @loganskittycatears @strxngegirl @verytyrantcat

@angelesgmez @lillianadreams @kds1990-blog @deathangelraven @birbita @spideyboycoy @thatgirl101blog @iconicredhoodie @aizawash0e @katherinethewitch @i-crossed-kriss @rose2love @cottagewitchybitch @norwalkballer @freedreampeach @supersoldatbarnesstuff @lumenseal @aestheticgrungecrybaby @bex-03 @vikizzy @loganskittycatears @putbloghere @dinogoofymutated @corawithfanfiction @darkficsyouneveraskedfor

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yourlocalsaiko · 1 month ago

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Im bored, anyone need a Rio for an Rp? Either Agario or just a OC/Self insert

#rio vidal #agatha all along #rio vidal x reader #new rp #oc rp

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undevidedattentionsblog · 1 year ago

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HURRY TF UP AND MAKE A CONNIE X BLACK READER FIC NOWWW

#connie x black reader #connie springer x black reader #aot x black reader #reiner x black reader #connie x black y/n #manny montana x black reader #connie springer x black oc #rio x black reader #chubby black reader #hobie brown x black reader

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thebruhgirlexperience · 6 days ago

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ravennaortiz · 2 months ago

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Everything on this list is incredible!

Masterlist💗

Started: 10/22/2020

Last Updated: 08/25/2024

Angel Reyes

"Hungry and Hormonal"

"Disastrous Deception"

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

"Out of Control"

“Get Your Act Together”

Odell Beckham Jr.

Gif credit: @objs13

"I Got You"

Chris Evans

Gif credit: @capsgrantrogers

“This Thing Called Life”

“Here We Go”

Rio

"Gang Friend and a Gentleman"

“Are You Listening?”

Daily Struggles Series: "Keep Me Posted"

"Are You Listening?" - Part Two: "The Breakdown"

“Gimme Some”

“Are You Listening?” - Part Three: “Bad Idea”

“Through It All” - Part One

“Are You Listening?” - Interlude - “Drinks On Me, Yeah?”

“Are You Listening?” - Part Four - “My Little Rider”

"Tempting Limits"

"Balancing Acts"

Rio Ask/Headcanons (In Order):

(I don't take requests, but sometimes I give in 😆)

Rio and Wifey on Vacay w/ baby girl.

Rio, Wifey, and All Girls.

Baby Mama, Four Times Over.

Built In Babysitter. Evolution of a Mini Hustla.

Valentine's Day and a Wedding Anniversary.

Rio’s Mini-me.

Let’s Go Little Kitty-Kat

It Be Your Own Blood

"Like Father, Like Son"

Pablo Schreiber

"Mini Mediators"

Yahya Abdul-Mateen II

"Nobody’s Gonna Know"-Part One.

“Nobody’s Gonna Know” - Part Two.

Kevin Atwater

"Until The Cops Come Knocking"

"Loud and Wrong"

Jay Halstead

“Echoes of Redemption”

Simon 'Ghost' Riley

"Late Night Cravings"

“Under the Mask”

“Haunted Hearts”

🚨SNIPPETS🚨

"Feeling Flustered" - EZ Reyes SNIPPET

"Disastrous Deception: Part Five" - Angel Reyes SNIPPET

"Do Not Disturb" - Angel Reyes SNIPPET

"Are You Listening" - Rio SNIPPET

"Loud and Wrong" - Kevin Atwater SNIPPET

"When You Come Around" - Chapter: "Restroom Occupied" - Dave East - Kofi Siriboe SNIPPET

“Mini Mediators” - Pablo Schreiber SNIPPET

“Don’t Hurt Yourself” - Chapter: “Shot For Me” - Odell Beckham Jr. SNIPPET

"The Way You Move" - "Say What Now?" (song series) - Yahya Abdul-Mateen II SNIPPET

“Clear A Bitch” - Chris Evans SNIPPET

“Get Your Act Together” - “Say What Now?” (Song series) - Angel Reyes SNIPPET

"Late Night Flights" - Chris Evans SNIPPET

Divider Credit: @firefly-graphics 💕.

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othernicknameisgaslighter · 10 hours ago

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for anyone whos' read my pjo fanfic story you know about odyssa's mom and artemis, right??? well i just accidently made them sad lesbians like 'good luck babe' sort of lesbians

#pjo x oc #pjo show #pjo x reader #percy jackson show #percy jackson x oc #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson #odyssa creston #eleanor creston #artemis #lesbians #rio and agatha core????

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thewhitewitch-bitch · 19 hours ago

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In Astris Supra (Chapter 6: Profectus Semper Deinceps Sub Ligneo Adyto)

Agatha Harkness x F!OC

Read it on AO3

As written in Familiaritas et Maleficis, the familiar of a witch can take any form, but commonly take the form of birds and small woodland creatures, or most common of all, the form of a feline, in an effort to conspicuously serve their mistresses without fear of capture or persecution. Not every witch may have a familiar; it is not within the rights of a witch to claim one, rather, they must be chosen by a familiar who deems them worthy of their service.

To be chosen is an incredible honor. It means that you exhibit not only talent as a witch, but also the potential to do and be more than what you have been limited to in your current station. More often than not, the arrival of a familiar comes in the form of some great tragedy or victory, a sign so clear from the Divine Mother that it cannot be ignored.

Mine was the former.

He was young. Couldn't have been older than seventeen when he was carted onto the deck of the HMS Collie, but if he survived would forever carry the scars of a man who had seen enough tragedy to haunt him for a lifetime. Rupert and I were running triage, sending the operable cases to the surgeons below deck, taking the dead to the stern to be wrapped, treating the wounded who could be saved with a quick fix. When the boy came in on a stretcher, his head wrapped in the bloodied scarlet wool of a redcoat, a gaping wound against his right side which he clutched at in agonizing pain. When he was lowered onto the table, he let out a low groan.

"Private Theodore Hatchet, sir," one of the soldiers who had carried him explained, "Caught the edge of a cannon ball as we tried to make a forward push."

It had been like this for nearly a week now, everyone was hit as the British tried to make the forward advance, whether it was bullets or cannon balls, there was no escaping it if you weren't a commissioned officer sitting on the back of a horse. But this boy, this Theodore Hatchet... he didn't deserve this.

"Just... doing my duty, sir..." Hatchet said with a wince as Rupert began to inspect the wound in his side. I moved to unwrap the makeshift bandage on his head to assess the damage beneath it. Bits of singed flesh and clumps of coal black hair peeled away with the congealed blood as I pulled gently back on the fabric. He hissed in pain, his bloodstained teeth grinding against each other as it finally came loose.

"Not much we can do about the pain, right now, lad." Rupert said apologetically as he took hold of a pair of forceps, "Miss Stuart, what can you make of it?"

I leaned in to get a good look at the gash across Hatchet's forehead. It was messy, no doubt a result of hitting his head on a stone or against the butt of his rifle as he fell. But most blows to the head were shallow, easy to clean and care for. If he survived the injury to his side, the cut on his head would be of minimal concern.

"It's minor, I can clean it and stitch it up."

"Excellent." Kingsley replied, not bothering to check it himself, "It'll give you the opportunity to practice your surgeon's knot while I clean this up. You're awfully lucky, Private Hatchet, not many men could take a cannon ball to the ribs and have a chance at survival."

Hatchet tried to laugh, cracking open his pale green eyes a sliver as he tried to look down at Kingsley, but the pain became too overwhelming, making him groan again. Once the wave of discomfort passed, he opened his eyes again and glanced up at me as I prepared the needle and catsgut before taking a cloth to the wound to wipe the dried blood away.

"A woman as a doctor," Theodore muttered, his voice barely audible above the distant gunfire and shouting soldiers, "I must truly be in heaven then."

I smiled at him, pressing the rag gently against his forehead, "Not yet, Mr. Hatchet."

"Please, call me Hatch."

"Hatch." I corrected myself as I continued to clean his wound, "And I'm not a doctor. Not yet, anyway. Just a student of Dr. Kingsley's."

Hatch’s smile broke through the pain, his bloodied teeth still forming a handsome half-grin as he watched me dab oil of vitriol and ethanol on his wound to numb it. “Well, even so, I’m grateful for your gentle hand, Miss uh?”

"Stuart. Aislin Stuart."

"Pretty name. You Irish?"

I began to start stitching up his wound as Rupert continued to pull shrapnel and dead flesh from the gaping wound on his side. I shrugged as I worked, "I wouldn't know. My mother never spoke of her heritage, though if I had to guess, she might have actually been Welsh."

"And your father? What about him?" he asked. My smile dropped, replaced by an apathetic expression at mention of fathers.

"I don't have one."

"Everyone has a father, Miss Stuart."

"I don't."

My eyes became emblazoned with warning as I met his innocent look. He dropped the subject, instead glancing down at Kingsley who was starting to bandage the wound.

"What about you, Doctor? Where all are you from?"

"London." replied Kingsley blandly, "But my father was born in York."

Hatch's smile returned, "I was born in Kingston upon Hull. Father is a Commodore in the Navy, I suppose I was meant to serve. It's in my blood."

I turned away for a moment, just a moment to grab a clean rag to dab away the blood that had formed at the base of the stitches. But glancing up for just a split second, I saw her again. Death stood across the deck with that entertained smirk, watching Hatch with a hungry gleam in her eye. Everything around me seemed to freeze in place, no cannons fired, no screams of pain rang out. I looked over at Hatch, whose smile was still plastered on his face as Kingsley was caught in place tying off the bandage around his abdomen. This boy... this kind, hopeful boy, deserved better than this.

"No." I said firmly. I knew only she could hear me. Her malicious laugh echoed in my ears again.

"You think you can tell me no?"

Earthy brown met hazel, I didn't flinch or shy away. Theodore Hatchet had more to give this world, he was good, he didn't deserve to have such a kind light snuffed out when so much life was left to be lived.

Death's grin fell away, her expression became disturbingly reserved, "He won't survive the night. Theodore Hatchet is meant to die, nothing can stop that."

"One thing can. I can convince him to pledge his service to me."

She tilted her head curiously, almost... impressed, "He'll never walk the earth as a man again. He won't be able to say goodbye to his family."

"He wouldn't have been able to do that if you claimed him either." I quipped, "All I ask is that you give me 'til dawn to try."

The air hung heavy between us. Things slowly started to move again. Soldiers started to run as if they were moving through molasses, the faint echo of crackling gunfire finally reached my ears. I felt as though my heart would stop beating in that frozen moment, the hardened look of Death making me wonder if she might exchange Hatchet's life for mine. But then she nodded, and her gaze softened ever so slightly.

"Fine." she said, her nose scrunching up a bit in the disgust of having to cave, "You have until first light. But don't expect this to be a regular occurrence. I'm only doing this as a favor to her."

My brow furrowed, my eyes narrowed, "Her? Who are you talking about?"

Death's smirk returned, "Who indeed?"

She vanished, and everything started to move all at once, making me flinch as the noises and smells of war flooded my senses.

"Are you alright, Miss Stuart?" Rupert's gentle baritone interrupted the noise, drawing my attention back to where he and Hatch were sat. My wide eyes and stock-still position must have been off-putting as they both looked at me like I had suddenly sprouted a second head.

"Yes," I replied, returning to Hatch's side with a rag in my hand, "Just tired, I suppose. It's been a long week for all of us."

The boy's smile faded a bit, becoming more wistful, "Last I knew, we were breaching the wall. Our cannons can't be more than a hundred meters from the fort. I wager by the end of the day, the Union Jack will be flying over us."

"Well, I certainly hope so." Rupert said with a stiff, practiced grin, "We've done all we can do for you, Private. Miss Stuart will check on you in a few hours. For now, we'll get you below deck so you can rest."

Hatch nodded slowly, painfully. A pair of soldiers stationed on board moved toward us when Kingsley waved them over, carrying a stretcher. They gingerly rolled the boy onto the canvas and lifted him with ease, ignoring the pained moans and grunts they elicited. I watched them take step after step until they vanished below deck and my timer officially started.

---------------------------------------------

The boy certainly had a knack for predicting the future, but I wouldn't call him a divination witch just yet. By sundown on the twelfth of October, the French had surrendered, and terms had been agreed upon. It was over.

As the faintest sliver of a waxing moon offered no light on board the Collie, I sat beside Theodore Hatchet, the only one awake below deck. A chorus of heavy snores echoed through bowels of the ship as we talked in hushed tones. It was tricky, trying to find the right way to propose what I wanted to propose. Most people would curse my name or try to kill me if I blatantly announced that I was, in fact, a witch. To offer to save a young man's life by less than normal means would certainly take some careful wording.

"In the end, it took my mother three hours to get Louis out of the tree and to this day, he won't take any sweets from her." Hatch said, concluding a rather entertaining story from his primary school days. I smiled softly as he chuckled a bit, though the pain in his side quickly put a stop to it. My smile faltered as I glanced down toward his bandages. Blood was starting to soak through them, he was going to bleed out by morning.

"I'm not going to make it, am I, Miss Stuart?" he croaked. Looking back into his eyes, they were sad, heartbroken even. I didn't say anything, but I knew he was able to read the expression on my face. He knew.

"I'm sorry, Hatch." I finally whispered when I couldn't fight the apology forming in my throat, "I'm so sorry."

He swallowed harshly, blinked hard to fight back the tears that were pooling in the corners of his eyes, "Is there nothing you can do?"

There was no avoiding it now. No beating around the bush or distracting with alternative topics.

"There is... something." I started, my voice quiet and shaky as I leaned in nervously, "But you would have to trust me entirely. And... you would not be the same person as you are now."

Confusion replaced his sadness, his sharply defined brow furrowed, "What do you mean?"

I leaned in, huddling over him to form a shell around my hand as I conjured up a few silvery wisps of my magic in my open palm, "I can offer you an alternative, but-"

"You're a witch?" he whisper-yelled, looking quickly around the deck to make sure no one was listening in. The only sign of life around us was the continuing cacophony of snores. He looked back at me, "Why couldn't you just heal me then?"

I rolled my eyes; of course that would be the first thing he would ask. I shifted back on the stool by his bed and threaded my fingers together, shaking my head.

"That's not how it works, Hatch." I said lowly, "Magic isn't a cure to every ailment. And I... I haven't been studying magic long enough to heal wounds as serious as yours. What I'm proposing to you is not healing, it's transformation."

An inkling of fear crossed his face, "So, w-what you want to turn me into a- a toad? A newt? A cat?"

I clapped a hand over his mouth to shut him up as his tone started to become loud. I held my hand there for a moment until he calmed down before withdrawing it, but the look on his face was still one of fear and partial disgust.

"I am offering you the chance to become my associate." I explained, "Every so often, a candidate appears to a witch, usually in times of tragedy or triumph. This candidate can either pledge their service and take on a new form or deny it and..."

"Die?"

"Or go about their lives as they used to."

"But not me."

"No... not you, Hatch." I said with a heavy sigh, "You're going to die."

Tears sprang forward. He sobbed, despite the pain it was undoubtedly causing him. I sat beside him quietly, my eyes glued to the seeping bloody bandage that was right in my face. He continued to cry for a while, but when his sobs finally ceased, and his chest rhythm fell back to normal, I took a gentle hold of his hand and directed his gaze toward me.

"Theodore, you need to decide, and you need to do it now." I told him, "You said it yourself; you were always meant to serve. Serve me and I promise you that your life will be long and fulfilling. Refuse and you leave this world without ever having truly lived. What do you want to do?"

He froze, took a minute or two to think on it.

Then he nodded.

"I, Theodore Edmund Hatchet, pledge my service to you, Miss Aislin Stuart, 'til death divides us."

I rose from my seat and set a hand on his chest. His eyes widened as he watched me prepare myself. I knew what he was silently asking me. A small, reassuring smile decorated my face.

"It won't hurt, I promise."

Looking back at my hand I muttered the famous incantation under my breath, "Derivare et formare, mutare et ministrare. Derivare et formare, mutare et ministrare."

As I continued to repeat the spell over and over, silvery tendrils wrapped around Hatch's body like long, ghost-like fingers. Slowly, they began to constrict him, encasing him in a shroud of pure moonlight. The pale glow grew brighter and brighter until I could no longer see Hatch beneath it. Glancing around the room, I was shocked that no one had awoken yet, that no one was even disturbed. But then I thought back to my brief interaction with Death earlier in the day. This was a favor, not to me... but to someone else. My mother perhaps? If anyone would be so daring as to court Death, it would be her.

The light became dimmer, the form it encased became smaller. I continued my recitation without pause until the light was finally gone and the comforting sensation of magic at my fingertips faded away. Where Theodore Hatchet's body had once been, a raven stood, with gleaming obsidian feathers and the faintest smattering of green in its dark, beady eyes. It looked up at me curiously, then stretched out its wings as if it still expected them to be arms.

"Hello, Hatch." I said with a wide grin, "How do you feel?"

What would have sounded like the call of a raven to any mortal sounded like Hatch's voice to me, clear and strong, as it had been before he was wounded.

"Strange," he replied, "as if my body isn't really my own. But... it feels... right somehow. Miss Stuart-"

"Please, call me Ash."

"Ash... was I always meant to become... this?"

I shrugged, "I don't know, Hatch. No one really knows if familiars are born or made. But when the opportunity presents itself to find one... we know it. A part of us can feel it. That sense of duty and service that you carry within you is what makes you special, Hatch. It's what brought you to me. And because of it, you will get to live a very long, very interesting life."

If a raven could laugh, he would have. Instead, it came out as a cross between a caw and a chuckle, an amalgamation of his former and current forms, "Well, then I suppose I made the right choice. So... my lady, what would you like me to do first?"

I lowered my hand and allowed him to perch on it. With no one left to watch over, I left the lower deck and took Hatch up top to feel the gentle, cool breeze wafting across the bay. I shut my eyes for a moment, letting the chill of autumn bathe me like it had the first night I had set foot in the Colonies. I reached into the pocket of my coat and produced a piece of folded parchment that I had written on two days ago.

"I'd like you to take a crack at flying." I said, holding up the letter, "I need you to deliver this to someone in Salem, Massachusetts. Are you up for it?"

Hatch bobbed his head, his new way of nodding, "Of course. May I ask who I have the pleasure of delivering it to?"

"Her name is Agatha Harkness. She's the only living witch in the village, it should be no trouble to find her."

Hatch took hold of the letter with his broad beak and started to flap his wings. After a few efforts, he lifted off my hand and flew upward, turning south and disappearing against the star-flecked navy sky. Giving a small sigh, I continued to watch the stars until they gave way to the faintest rays of morning light and for the first time in nearly a year, I felt happiness tug at my heartstrings.

#agatha all along #agatha harkness #agatha harkness x oc #agatha harkness x reader #marvel cinematic universe #rio vidal

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onlyswan · 6 months ago

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summary: in which for you, jungkook would commit crimes and his mother would peel oranges.

idol!jk x reader | fluff, angst | word count: 9.5k

warnings/content: oc passes out in the shower / jk does something crazy i’m literally insane about this / baby bam cameo 🥺 / stitches >:( / blood draw / mention of speeding / jealous not but rlly jealous oc is pissed owfffff at the nurse who has a crush on jk lmao / jk and his mom loves them to death tho so obv who wins / love is beautiful let’s all cry <3

> in which masterlist!

note: *sitcom sound effect of crowd cheering* I’M BACK 🥰 hope u enjoy the product of my madness during finals season hehehe. and special thanks to my cutieful proofreader rio!! you’re one of my most favorite people i’ve ever met 🥺💕 + my beloveds who came to the rescue when i had medical questions !! i didn’t expect to receive help from soooo many and i’m so freaking grateful i could cri :")

—

“i ordered it the other day. how did it arrive so early?”

jungkook walks back inside the apartment, arms occupied by a stack of boxes that arrived in the mail yesterday.

he arrives at the living room, head tilting to the side in confusion when he realizes that the netflix show he was watching on the television is no longer playing. instead, there is the news channel.

he gasps.

“baby, you’re alive!”

your swollen eyes flicker up to him.

you’re lying on the sofa with your legs lazily dangling on the edge. there’s a toothbrush in your mouth, foam of bubbles between your lips, but your arm barely exerts the energy to make it do its job.

“you were asleep from afternoon to morning. do you know that? you’ve never done that before!” he exclaims, carelessly tossing the boxes on the floor. “i was getting scared!”

you only hum to acknowledge his existence, pushing yourself up from the sofa and unknowingly dodging the hug your boyfriend wanted to greet you with.

he ends up collapsing face first on the empty space you left, hurt and offended.

the bathroom door opens and closes.

he flips over, whining. “yah, we didn’t see each other for a day. didn’t you miss me?!”

still not a single word from you. sleeping that long must not have cured your exhaustion, jungkook surmises. you tend to be glum and cranky when you’re feeling unwell, as is usually the case when you wake up as unrested as before.

he doesn’t always know how to make you feel better, but he always tries anyway.

“our new bedsheets arrived!” he announces from the other side of the bathroom door, making himself loud so that you can hear him despite the shower running. “do you want to unbox them with me?!”

he allows the seconds to pass, but with his hands on his hips, he eventually begins to tap his foot on the floor.

“baby? may i go in?”

he turns the knob, just to be prepared incase the answer is a yes, but it doesn’t turn. a sad pout forms on his face.

huh? why is it locked?

you must genuinely don’t want to be bothered today.

“guess that’s a no.” he mutters to himself before calling out to you. “okay, i’ll wait for you!”

with a crestfallen sigh, he begins to walk back to the living room.

he doesn’t go far, however.

only several steps later, a series of loud crashes is heard from the bathroom and his heart thunders in his chest with a combination of numbing shock and fear.

“____, what was that?! did you fall?!”

he aggressively pounds at the door, extremely desperate this time around. he has no plans on leaving until he knows that you’re safe and sound.

“baby! open this! are you alright…? are you hurt? you’re scaring me. please, answer!”

he pauses, catching his breath as his mind runs a thousand miles per hour.

“____!”

he strikes the door with an open palm one more time, more so to express his frustration that is only growing worse with every tick of the clock. he only ends up hurting himself in the process.

“that’s it! i’m opening the door!”

he frantically whips his head around, racking his brain for the location of the key. there are two copies of it somewhere in the apartment, but in his panicked state, he is unable to pinpoint either of their specific spots. and he can’t fucking afford to waste any more time.

“ah, fuck!” he curses, left with no other choice but to give in to the instinct of breaking down the door with the strength and durability of his body alone.

he would most definitely break his shoulder first before the door.

only after the first try, that much is clear.

and so, with madness inconsiderate of his agony, he resorts to kicking it over and over again.

the repeated loud collisions rattles poor bam from his slumber. not long after, the dog’s barking creates a booming dissonance with his grunts and kicks at the door.

when it finally swings open, the force of his own body sends him stumbling on the bathroom floor, but he doesn’t waste time in bouncing back to his feet.

the twisting of his stomach is instantaneous.

there lies your naked, unconscious figure behind the glass— surrounded by bottles of hair and body products that must have fallen when your hands were searching for something to hold on to.

his voice cracks, breathless.

“baby, no… no, no, no.”

he kneels on the floor, and despite the strong urge to carry you out of there, he tries to calm down. it’s the first rule in every emergency case; professionals reiterate in seminars and news channel segments.

keep calm. keep calm. keep calm.

he won’t be able to forgive himself if he ends up causing more harm than good.

“____, can you hear me?!”

his instinct tells him to inspect every inch of you for any sign of injury, but then his vision becomes too blurry. he curses at the hindrance and forces himself to turn off the showerhead that was left running.

he harshly wipes his face, rushing back to you.

“please, please, please. wake up.” he begs.

he has a feeling that it’s futile. you can’t hear him and he’s wasting his breath. the thing is he doesn’t know what else to do.

“baby…”

he carefully turns your head over, almost relieved because he hasn’t seen blood so far.

almost.

at last, he gets a full view of your face, and he finds blood dripping. this has always been one of his most paralyzing fears— seeing you get hurt. now that it’s become a reality, there’s a part of him that wants to believe this is some kind of twisted dream.

“how- how did this even happen…?” he cries out, his own blood running cold.

for everything that happens after, his body acts on its own. bam is a constant presence in his peripheral, but he is barely in his right mind to acknowledge the presence aside from, “bam, move. daddy might step on you.”

he carries you out of the bathroom, kicking aside the beaten up door. he has made up his mind about bringing you to the hospital, but he can’t bring you like… this.

he lays you down on the bed, all that gentleness switched off in a split second so he can sprint to the walk-in closet. he hastily grabs whatever is on top of your neatly folded stacks of shirts and pants; and then a fresh towel on the way out. the gentleness returns as he pats your face dry, the pure white stained with dark red. he flips the towel and uses the other side to wipe the rest of your body, in a race against time but mindful of treating you like fragile glass.

once that is over, he dresses you in a pair of gray sweatpants, and with some difficulty, an orange t-shirt.

any person with functioning eyes will be able to tell that the shades don’t go together.

if you were conscious, you’d definitely berate him for making you wear this outfit.

but you’re not.

jungkook effortlessly swoops you in his arms— dripping wet hair, his and yours, leaving behind a trail of raindrops from your apartment floor to the cemented parking lot.

—

your body feels like it’s floating.

are you dreaming…?

you must be dreaming.

you hear an uncoordinated symphony of voices, but you can’t comprehend a word. in pursuit of clarity, you force yourself to open your eyes.

the voices grow a little louder. faceless figures hover you; a bright light shines over your face.

your senses must be playing cruel tricks. now it feels like you’re drowning, sinking into the unknown, and your body has succumbed into numbing defeat.

you want to sleep a little more.

you must truly be exhausted. it’s okay.

you’ve fought hard until now. you’ve done enough… has anyone tried in life as much as you did?

just as your eyes flutter shut, you regain sensation of your hand; a soft squeeze and a call of your name.

—

jungkook gently strokes your hair, sighing for the nth time since you got transferred to a private room. he’s relieved that all the scans came back clean so serious head and brain injuries have been ruled out. the doctor also asked him questions and ran some other tests before concluding that electrolyte imbalance caused you to pass out; the culmination of stress and fatigue from work, as well as your strong period, most likely being the main reasons. he didn’t even know about the latter until you stained the white sheets with blood.

it was fucking frightening being in the sidelines as they rushed to check on your vitals and to administer oxygen. even now, it’s unbearable to see you with a needle in your hand and a few stitches above your eyebrow. he already anticipated you not being pleased with having to get stitches specifically either; gasping and sitting up as soon as you heard the word come from his lips post-consciousness. consequently, the dizziness hits you. the doctor wasn’t happy about that.

“this is so annoying. i don’t want a scar.” you whine as you study your face on the camera of jungkook’s phone. “did i have to fall on my prettier side?”

“what are you saying? you’re pretty from any angle.” he interjects. “be careful. the wound might open up.”

you jut out your bottom lip, looking up at him with glassy eyes. the sight instantly tugs at his heartstrings, and he pulls you in for a hug. maybe he’s a little sad that you don’t appear concerned about the fact that you passed out, but god is he relieved to finally hear your voice again.

“ah, i should call the doctor.”

but his face remains buried in your hair.

“they told me to do so.”

“you should-”

“why?!” he abruptly reacts, drawing back. “does anything hurt?”

“chill. you said that they told you to.”

“oh, that’s right.” he sheepishly smiles. he can’t help but to overreact; he hasn’t turned off the alarms in his head. “i’ll go tell the nurse to get her.”

he starts to walk towards the door, but a tug at his shirt holds him back.

you shyly look at him with a scrunch of your nose. “i’m nervous. hug me for five more seconds.”

fuck, he would move heaven and earth to protect you from everything that can cause you harm.

“why would you be nervous? i’m right here.” he scolds you lightheartedly, not hesitating to seize the chance to hug you again. “i love you.”

“i love you more.”

you pull away after five seconds, and he’d be disappointed about you being too true to your words if you didn’t kiss him on the cheek so ardently.

his heart almost jumps out of his chest when you gasp out of nowhere as if you just realized that you left the gas tank open at home. your eyes nearly pop out of their sockets.

“bam!”

oh, right. your child.

“my brother’s house!” he eases your mind.

you breathe out in relief, the heel of your palm pressing against the left side of your chest where your heart lives. “good… i was worried. he was probably more scared because he didn’t understand what was going on. i feel bad.”

you love bam so much; it makes him so happy. you’re so concerned about him even when you’re the one on the hospital bed. you make pretty good parents, huh?

“that’s right. he was worried about you, too. that’s why you need to recover quickly so he won’t be sad!”

—

the doctor kindly asked jungkook to give the two of you some time alone, so he’s been idly sitting at the lobby after buying a bottle of water. he’s pretty much used to visiting the hospital for routine checkups considering the nature of his job, but it always feels strange to be here for the other different purposes of the place.

is there any other building sadder than this?

if you heard him utter this question, he could easily predict what you’d say: but is there any other building with more love?

if he tries hard enough, he could listen to your voice and paint you in his mind.

you see love in every place that you step foot into.

his curious eyes continue to wander around. he spots people carrying flowers, baskets, and containers of food. there’s also a teenage boy in his high school uniform, carrying a teddy bear larger than him.

not that he wants you to stay longer, but if you have to, he writes down a mental note to bring one of your favorite plushies.

he eventually gets tired; considers scrolling on his phone again, but he decides against it when his gaze lands on a little boy sleeping soundly on his mother’s lap. suddenly, he is reminded of his childhood before he moved to seoul.

how simple life can be when you’re innocently sleeping on your mother’s lap, trusting that everything will be alright.

“ah, i miss my mom…” he utters absentmindedly. “i miss my mom so much. i should call her.”

his reminiscing is interrupted when a wheelchair rolls by infront of him. it is leisurely being pushed by an old man who wants to bring his wife outside for some fresh air.

in a parallel universe somewhere, jungkook can imagine them as you and him.

he sits up straight, looking back at the clock on the wall.

how long has it been? he wants to be by your side again.

—

“jungkook!” your face lights up as soon as your boyfriend steps into the room. “what took you so long?”

“i know. sorry, baby. i got a little distracted outside.”

“i’ve been waiting.” you pout. “why? were people bothering you?”

“not at all. don’t worry.”

you pat the empty space beside you. “here.”

“i think the bed is meant for only one person- damn, okay, okay-”

he swiftly gives in upon seeing the hurt on your face, occupying the space you reserved for him. “i love you. don’t be sad.”

you’re aching too much to wait for him to get settled. you wrap your arms around his waist like you’re a magnet attracted to steel, clinging to him for comfort.

if you’re being honest, you don’t know how you feel about being in this situation. overwhelmed? maybe a tiny bit relieved. in the past, it didn’t matter whether you were sick or not. you needed to work or else it was guaranteed that you wouldn’t survive. life is easier now. you have the luxury to use this as a reason to take a break. you have someone who takes care of you as naturally as he breathes.

“how was the doctor?”

“she’s nice… she just asked me about the things i remember before i passed out. then about my work, diet, sleeping schedule… stuff like that.”

you pull away a little, just enough so you can see each other’s face. you squint at him suspiciously. “did you have to get an expensive room?”

he chuckles. “how did you know? they didn’t tell you that, did they?”

“i literally have the perfect view of the fountain from here!” you point at the large window behind you. “i just passed out. i would’ve been fine downstairs.”

“don’t say it like that. it could’ve been so much worse.” he says with knitted eyebrows, palm cupping the back of your head and caressing softly.

he heaves a sigh.

“i was so scared that you injured your head. seriously, i thought i’d go insane if i lost you! i went past the speed limit driving you here!”

the distress he was under is apparent. you can’t help but to be racked with the guilt. you always do this, making him worry himself to death. you don’t usually do it purpose, and that only makes you feel shittier.

“you’re right. i’m sorry.”

“well, i…” he sighs. “it’s okay. i know you didn’t want this either. it’s not your fault.”

you press your lips into a thin line. “it kind of is.”

your lost eyes meet, and a connection is established like it’s a constellation sending a secret message. your heart flutters when he giggles, dimples and starry eyes and crinkled corners.

“stop it. it’s impossible to scold you when you’re so cute and self-aware.”

“then don’t scold me.” you sniffle sadly to kindle pity in him. “i’ve had enough of it from the doctor.”

your brain still works well enough to help you escape from trouble. that’s a good sign, right?

“my poor baby.” he coos, cradling your cheeks.

his hands are warm. you put yours over them; a wordless signal telling him you don’t want him to go away.

“let’s not get hurt again, please. we need to stay healthy and take good care of ourselves so this won’t happen again, alright?”

you nod in obedience. your eyes are fixed on him but you’re not certain if you’re registering what he’s telling you in your pitiful, shaken brain.

“the hospital already did me many favors. if we go back, i might have to build them another fountain as a gift.”

and knowing jungkook, with his golden heart and his black card, jokes become half-meant.

“what do they need that for?!”

he bursts out laughing, yet again, after you chide at him for his ridiculous and unnecessary expenses.

“nothing, i’m just grateful! i was really so scared but i’m relieved now thanks to them. i can’t remember the last time i felt that way.”

“you’re not scared of a lot of things.” you point out.

“that’s right.” he agrees. “only you scare me these days.”

you grimace. “am i scary?”

“you are, sometimes.” he laughs, squishing your cheeks together. “but i mean the things that could hurt you.”

as if on cue, your stomach grumbles and bellows like a monster stuck in an empty cave. your eyes grow twice its size in bewilderment, which then morphs into embarrassment.

“my stomach hurts.” you say quietly.

your nostrils flare as jungkook miserably fails to hold back his laughter. one of his hands leave your face, rubbing your tummy over the thin hospital gown.

“oh no, what are we going to do? where does it hurt? here?” he pouts. “should we go feed you now to make it go away?”

“what is wrong with you?” you slap his shoulder in annoyance. “i’m not a baby!”

“yah, be careful!” he yells, wincing as if he is the one in pain. “be gentle with the one with the iv!”

—

“you know one good thing that came out of this?” you gush out of nowhere.

you’re mixing up the ingredients of your bibimbap bowl with a spoon and a pair of chopsticks.

jungkook noisily drinks the final sips of his banana milk. afterwards, he makes a game out of shooting the box in the trash bin.

“what could that be?” he asks, doubtful.

he sits on the chair beside your bed. you greet him with a delighted grin, licking your thumb stained with gochujang.

“you proved your love. you committed a crime for me.”

he gasps to humor you, body freezing as if he’s currently processing the newly-learned information in his brain.

“oh? you’re right- i did! and you know what? i’d do it again!”

with a mouthful of rice, you shake your head in disagreement furiously. “you’re cute. but that’s the first and last.”

“but how are you sure that it’s the first?” he raises an eyebrow quizically.

silly enough, you envy him for being able to do so.

you hum in thought. “i guess you’ve stolen a few things for me, too.”

“few? you mean a loooot?”

“you’re the one who brings home food and random things.” you roll your eyes. “i never ask you to.”

“you told me you wanted the service bell!”

you feel yourself become flushed with sheepishness. he’s not lying. you’ve always found the object fascinating as a child, so you couldn’t help but to tell him to sneakily take one home after filming a competitive run bts episode.

did you have a silly phase where you and jungkook used it to summon each other just to laugh together about it?

perhaps.

“well, you’re rich. you could’ve bought me one instead.”

“but it was already there.” he reasons with a wide grin, gesturing infront of him. “i wanted to give it to my lover right away.”

his lover?

jungkook has successfully replaced your frown with an enamored smile.

“i made your heart flutter just now, didn’t i?”

a hospital stay has never felt this comfortable— not terrifying. you have stitches on your face and to add to that, this hospital gown feels super unflattering. somehow, your boyfriend’s loving gaze remains steady and you are melting.

“shut up,” you mutter, flustered, handing him the pair of chopsticks. “please eat with me. i can’t finish this on my own.”

—

“why would you let them put the needle in my dominant hand?”

you stomp your feet on the ground as jungkook squeezes some toothpaste onto a newly-bought toothbrush.

“i’m sorry! i was too stressed out so i just pointed! i think i got confused with- with left and right.”

you didn’t realize this while you were eating; that you were unconsciously holding the spoon with your non-dominant hand because the other felt uncomfortable. maybe because it was a simple task, scooping food and bringing it to your mouth. brushing your teeth, on the other hand… can be quite an arm workout.

“eeeee!”

he shows his complete set of teeth, urging you to do the same. you stare at him blankly.

“eeeee!” he repeats with heightened enthusiasm.

left with no other choice— you copy his awkward smile.

“there we go!” he praises you with an over-enthusiastic beam.

he carries on to brush your teeth, gingerly holding your chin to keep you steady as he does his job.

this is the first time jungkook is doing this for you. today is definitely not one of your finest moments. it feels a bit silly to be in this situation, and you feel bad for putting your boyfriend in this position in the first place. you can see that he’s trying his best—unnecessarily focused—and that he loves you, but you just hate giving him a hard time.

with a soft smile, he wipes the bubbles that overflowed past your lips.

“okay, spit.”

you spit out more of the bubbles on the sink. you assume that he’s finished, except he’s making another vowel sound for you to mimic the mouth shape of.

“ahhhh-”

“this is embarrassing!”

“baby, really? this is where you draw the line?” he playfully squeezes your cheeks together. “it’s almost over! ahhhh!”

and you let him do this thing, but not without a glare that is masking the embarrassing truth: you might be enjoying this more than you care to admit.

“see? was that so bad?”

as he tenderly pats your face dry in the aftermath, he says: “i’m sorry. bear with it a little more. let me take care of you so you’ll be healthy again.” and you feel every ounce of his sincerity pierce through the barriers surrounding your soul.

“stop it…” your voice suddenly comes out broken.

you want to put all the blame on your period for the tears that are now brimming your eyes, but jungkook is your biggest weakness of all and that is an explanation enough.

“why are you crying?” he panics. “what did i say?”

“it’s your fault.”

you break down into loud sobs, incapable of even keeping your eyes open. you never understood why we close our eyes when we cry, but right now, you know that you can’t bear to witness his reaction.

“you’re so sweet.”

the towel that was wiping the water from your mouth is now drying the tears from your stained cheeks.

“am i making you sad?”

you furiously shake your head. how could he say such a thing? he is the greatest joy of your life.

“no?”

“no!”

“okay, come here then.”

he wraps his arms around your trembling figure, caging you in the solace of his entire existence. a sense of calmness washes over your system, especially as he runs his hand across your back in gentle strokes. this isn’t his goal though, it seems. you hear none of his quiet shushes beseeching you to stop breaking his heart. he hopes you let go of everything that has been weighing on you, but he has already eased all your pains by loving you.

“ugh, i probably look horrible right now.” you force a chuckle to lighten up the mood, wiping your face with the back of your free hand. “i feel gross.”

“that’s not true.” he gazes at you fondly, brushing your hair with his fingers. “it’s actually infuriating how you look so beautiful still.”

“i know. i’m nice to look at; that’s why you tolerate my attitude.” you conclude in jest.

“yeah, sometimes.” he rides on the joke.

“what…?”

“i’m joking!” he rushes to take it back with a laugh. “of course i’m joking!”

you pout. “are you really?”

“oh, come onnnn.”

he coaxes you with a kiss on the lips— a good morning kiss long overdue. you’ve been spoiled rotten with affection; he knows you need more than one. he interrupts himself several times to kiss you.

“you know i’ll love you until our hair turns white and our skin all wrinkly.”

to be brutally honest, you’re not fond of imagining that far ahead. it’s daunting. you doubt your capability to age with grace. you’re horrified by the thought of having the majority of your life behind you. nostalgia has always been more bitter than sweet. but maybe this memory could be the sweetest of all, if jungkook truly stays by your side until then. in a cottage at the countryside like he said once, or a cabin by the ocean.

you’re both so young; so arrogant when it comes to making promises that are a shot in the dark. so fucking in love.

“me too.” you half-smile, scrunching your nose— a telltale sign of your joy. “now, get out. i really need to pee.”

his face becomes drained of blood. “but you’re st-”

“i won’t lock the door this time.” you cup his cheek, looking at his eyes reassuringly. “we don’t need property damage added to the bill.”

—

“did you not hurt yourself?”

“me?”

“you broke down the door. that’s not easy to do.”

you and jungkook make the best out of a bad deal. you’re squeezed together on the bed, browsing through television channels that seem to never end.

“it was easy because you were on the other side of it.”

that is what he claims confidently, but you are not fully convinced.

“wow, why do they have more channels than we do at home?”

“you didn’t answer my question.” you pout. “did you hurt yourself?”

“i didn’t hurt myself. i’m totally okay. i promise.”

he maintains eye-contact as he speaks. given the assurance, your tight chest unrestricts. jungkook is not a good liar. it’s a trait that causes him inconvenience every now and then, but it helps you to sleep soundly at night.

“should we just watch funny animal videos on youtube?”

“i guess that’s fine.”

it doesn’t show but you feel excitement run in your veins aside from the iv fluids that feel peculiarly cold.

from under your cheek, his chest vibrates with a giggle. “okay, hold on.”

as he pulls up the application, you tangle your legs together beneath the thin blanket. you hear the rapid tap tap tap of the remote control navigating the keypad while he types on the search bar, but your attention is someplace else. you’ve found the crook of his neck to sneak into, lazily kissing every inch of his exposed skin. your lips eventually trail up to his jaw. he smells so nice. you’re addicted.

“baby, someone can enter any minute.”

“i’m not doing anything.” you mumble.

you smile against his lips when he gives you a kiss as sweet as honey anyway.

“i’m curious about another thing.”

“what’s that?”

“did you cry?”

he comes to a still. the answer to that question requires a little time and thought.

“almost…”

“why almost?”

“no time. i had to bring you here, of course.” he replies.

you huff a laugh, exhaling a twinge of melancholia. “don’t cry.”

“i won’t. i’m happy now because you’re awake and fighting with me.”

“ow-”

your cry of pain is silenced when he squeezes you in an embrace that makes it nearly impossible to breathe.

“red panda!”

a squeal assaults both of your hearing as soon as your eyes land on the wide screen infront of the bed.

“i want one so fucking bad.”

the enunciated curse makes your boyfriend crack up in amusement. “that much?!”

—

jungkook opens his eyes to a nurse lightly nudging him awake.

“i’m sorry, i had to wake you up. i need to check vitals and draw blood.”

“shit, i’m sorry.” he panics.

his brain is foggy from the nap, but he still carefully sits up on the bed, wary of the iv line connected to your hand.

“i… was tired and i fell asleep.”

“it’s no problem; don’t worry.”

she smiles at him, but he doesn’t see it.

“you look adorable sleeping.”

“ah, really?” he awkwardly responds, absentminded. “it’s embarrassing.”

he stands on your side, about to disturb your peaceful rest much as it makes his heart ache with guilt, but you’re already stirring due to the absence of his warmth.

your heavy eyelids blink at the nurse in curiosity. “oh… do you need my blood?”

“yes, but i’ll take your blood pressure and temperature first.”

“okay,” you mumble, offering your arm. “it might be higher now because i’m scared.”

she chuckles at your joke. jungkook tries to share an endeared look with her and non-verbally communicate adorable, right?

“i promise i’ll be quick. although we definitely want it to be higher than earlier’s.”

you wince as the cuff around your upper arm goes as tight as it could, and you sigh at the same time that it begins to deflate.

“good, good, good,” she chants with a mumble. “it’s back in the normal range again…”

she brings out a digital thermometer from her pocket.

“you know where this goes.”

she hands it over to you, and you awkwardly place it in your armpit, holding it in place. it’s quiet as you wait for the device to make the beeping sound, except for her pen creating friction with your chart as she takes down notes.

“how’s your stitches? do you feel any discomfort?”

“it’s fine. thank you.”

not long after, you hear the beep. you return the thermometer to her, but not before taking a peak at the numbers displayed on the tiny screen. 36.8°C. you think you’ll live.

“i’ll draw your blood now.”

the nurse’s voice is sweet and reassuring, but it doesn’t quite ease the nervousness evident on your expression. your pupils shake as you watch her disinfect the area, and then comes out the long needle.

another one, jungkook laments inside.

“____, i’m right here.”

you crane your head, whimpering out his name. “jungkook,”

“it will be just a pinch. i’m inserting the needle now, alright?”

you take a sharp inhale.

if only he could switch positions with you, he would do it in a heartbeat. unfortunately, all he can do is caress your hair and whisper that it will be over soon.

“it hurts.” your damp eyelashes flutter, face twisting in discomfort. “i don’t like it.”

really, just a pinch? obviously a lie.

“hey, baby. look at the tv.”

the autoplay was left turned on after you fell asleep together. inside the screen is a puppy rolling around a snow-covered lawn. the wagging of its tail, the wide smile, and the pupils as big as boba balls: they all scream the happiness of an innocent.

“it’s so cute… i miss bam already. can we go to a dog park again?”

“of course!”

that promise sparks your smile. you turn to your side, and jungkook also catches a glimpse of the cotton taped to where you were poked.

“all done. you can go back to resting.”

“thank you. will you need to take blood again?” you inquire at the nurse.

“hm, probably. it depends on the doctor based on the results we get from this one.”

“can’t you just do it while i’m asleep? or is that not allowed?”

“baby…” jungkook snorts, hiding his face behind the palm of his hands.

the nurse laughs at your desperate suggestion. “that is honestly not a rare request, but the thing is… you might wake up in the middle of it and injure yourself. we can’t do that.”

“that won’t be a problem!” you passionately argue your case. “i’m a deep sleeper. seriously!”

“ah, thank you so much for your hard work!”jungkook intervenes, bowing to the nurse out of respect and gratitude. “i’m sure you’re busy. i will handle this!”

“oh yes, yes- thank you. please don’t forget the medicine for after dinner.”

“i won’t!”

“if you need anything, you know where to find me again.”

“yes,” he nods, chuckling. “thank you.”

“then i should leave…? but you’ll see me again later! bye!”

the door shuts, and his attention lands on your unimpressed form: a blank stare and arms folded infront of your chest.

uh-oh.

“did she seriously wink while saying that?”

“what?” he freezes, genuinely clueless. “i don’t know. i didn’t see anything. i was looking at you.”

“i’m right here- i’m the patient. why would you need anything from her? huh? why is she so excited to see you again?” you ramble angrily.

“right?!”

he climbs on the bed, reclaiming his spot next to you.

“that was weird.”

“what if she made it hurt on purpose? that…” you frown, glancing at your arm. “that didn’t really feel like a pinch to me.”

“ey, calm down. she wouldn’t.” he makes a doubtful face, laughing off the accusation. “…i don’t think so?”

you blink, exhaling in disbelief. “are you taking her side now?”

“of course not! baby, i’m just saying… a professional won’t do that.”

“why not? she’s still human. humans do stupid things when they like someone. she obviously likes you.”

“and so what?”

he grins with a spark of mischief, leaving an inch of a distance between your lips.

“i’m obviously yours.”

but you turn your cheek and your eyes fall on your lap, a pout highlighting your downcast mood.

“it’s so annoying.”

the regret sinks in after. he should’ve stuck to the golden rule: agree with everything that you say. there’s no point in having an argument no one will win. does it matter who’s right and wrong if each other’s sadness is contagious in addition to their own? your gut has almost always been right, and he’s old enough to be conscious of not allowing a stranger to put a dent on your relationship.

“are you serious? are you uncomfortable?” he tilts his head to try and get a better look at your face. “should i request for a different nurse?”

it’s quiet for a beat and he feels inclined to fill the silence with whatever enters his mind.

“i love you.”

almost immediately, your features soften and he knows your heart is also melting. the two of you bite the inside of your cheeks to hide a smile.

“no, there’s no need for that.”

but he still can’t help but to be worried. your peace of mind is his top priority. he doesn’t want you to be more stressed out, especially by things that he has the power to solve.

“are you sure?”

“she pissed me off. i need to piss her off too.”

of course, his ever stubborn and competitive lover. he sits up properly, amused and curious.

“and how will you do that?”

“i don’t know,” you nonchalantly shrug. “i’ll come up with something.”

—

“come up with what?”

to your surprise, a voice you haven’t heard in weeks echoes from the door.

“mom…?”

you’re stunned after only hearing yourself react to jungkook’s mother’s unexpected entrance. your head whips to his direction; your eyes wordlessly interrogating him.

“i need to go to work so i called her to watch over you.” he explains.

“why would you do that?” you argue with him as quietly as possible, lips barely moving as you try to hide your face from your mother-in-law. again, not one of your finest moments. “you didn’t have to. i can take care of myself.”

“but you don’t have to because you have us.”

jungkook marks the conversation finished with a kiss pressed to your temple, leaving you dumbfounded. he jumps off the bed and for a split second, you make eye-contact with his mother before he towered over her for a quick hug.

her kind smile is embroidered in your memory; a memory that wraps your heart in a type of warmth only a mother can provide.

“mom! i’m sorry. i really, really, really need to leave now. but! i’ll try to come back early so you can go home early too.”

“aigoo, stop stressing yourself out.”

jungkook receives a slap on the back, somehow more loving can scolding.

“i can stay the night so do what you need to do. you don’t have to worry.”

“it’s not only because i’m worried!”

she sassily puts a hand over her waist. it takes everything in you not to laugh out loud.

“then what else?”

“mom! what else?” he cheekily smiles. “of course i’ll miss ____ too much.”

did your boyfriend just…? to his mother? your jaw becomes slack from the shame.

“i missed ____ too!” she contests. “go to work and give us our alone time.”

you shyly smile when she transfers her attention from her son to you.

“hello, my baby. are you hungry?”

—

“does my son feed you well?”

“he does! but it’s funny- other mothers ask the opposite. are you feeding my son well? do you make sure he’s comfortable?”

you think out loud, transfixed on how she peels oranges with ease. your hands would always be stained by the juices, (and eyes red and teary from accidental splashes) (it’s too embarrassing to even think about) but hers are still magically clean.

“is that so?”

you graciously accept the slice she feeds you. she laughs when your face lights up like a christmas tree one more time. it’s way sweeter than you anticipated. you can’t get over how delicious it is.

“mhmm!”

perhaps you relied too much on dramas when it came to your expectations of what a relationship with your in-laws would look like. you imagined yourself running around like a dog trying to prove yourself worthy of their son, yet for some reason, it looks like they adore you for simply existing. it makes you feel extremely grateful, but you don’t understand.

“mom, i have a question… i know it’s probably too late to ask this now, but…”

“what could that be?”

“are you really not against me and jungkook living together?” you swallow your fear of the possibility of an unpleasant truth. “are you not… worried… that i’m receiving too much from him?”

because you would understand the apprehension. as a parent, one’s main concern would be their child. to outside eyes, it’s easy to come to the conclusion that jungkook is being taken advantage of and he’d be better off dating someone with the same status. sometimes you wish you were that someone too.

she utters your name sadly.

“he receives happiness and love from you. those are the most valuable things you could give to a person.”

she caresses your hair like she wants to erase the anxiety poisoning your mind.

“my dear, how come you’re worried about that until now? haven’t we told you? you’re part of the family. forget about my sister! i don’t welcome her negativity in our house!”

“living together is different. it’s a big deal. it normally happens in a relationship after…” the following words feel foreign in your mouth; they come out quieter than the rest of your sentence. “getting married.”

“then tell me. why did you agree to live with him?”

because you’re selfish. because you want more time that you can have him all to yourself. because you want to be accessible— the first person he runs to when he’s seeking comfort and stability. because you want goodnight and good morning kisses. because you were afraid of the risks but you’ve grown addicted to the thrill of love.

“he said… no matter how hard i push him away, he will stay within my reach.”

you hear your own shaky breathing. that moment— it’s still burned into your memory. you’re still holding on to it. it’s a promise he is yet to break and you pray that he never, ever does.

“i don’t want to push him away. i want to be within his reach too.”

you’re two people loving each other with everything within your means. after the endless pains and the deafening noise, you like to think that’s what makes this relationship worth fighting for.

“does my opinion still matter knowing that? will you let me stop you?”

“no, i won’t. i’d make you change your mind.”

if you had a machine connected to you, she would see how your heart rate has gone off the charts. but you’re known to say whatever’s on your mind and that, much to your dismay, isn’t switched off despite sitting infront of the woman who birthed and raised the love of your life.

you sniffle, pursing your lips nervously. “but i feel like there might be a right answer to that one.”

what you didn’t expect was her to laugh until her belly hurts; placing a hand over her mouth in an effort to calm herself down and keep grace.

“mom! stop, i’m so embarrassed!”

“no, ____, don’t get me wrong!”

she is teary-eyed as she gathers herself together.

“the more time i spend with you, the more i realize why jungkook loves you so much. i’ve seen him show incredible commitment twice. do you know that? first, when he went to seoul to become a singer. second, when he told us he got an apartment because he wants to be with you… of course, as his mother, i’ll admit that he’s young when he made those decisions, but he always proves to me that he’s smart and responsible.”

the urge to cry returns and strengthens as she speaks. you feel your eyelashes become damp with unshed tears. you don’t know how to act. you fiddle with your fingers. you stare at the strings and peels of the oranges you can still taste.

“i believe we both know jungkook’s personality well. he wouldn’t have let me stop him either. i’m happy to know that you’ll fight for him too.”

“thank you…”

“tsk, tsk, tsk- what is there to cry about? jungkook will get angry at me if he discovers that i made you cry.”

she wipes away your tears; however, the unmistakable scent of oranges that has clung to her hands and the affection in her tone bring forth a waterfall.

“seeing this makes me sadder.” she laments, referring to the stitches on your face.

“me too,” you babble in the midst of quiet sobs. “it makes me sad. it’s so ugly.”

—

you can’t remember the last time you felt this alone. perhaps it’s the effect of staying in an unfamiliar building of complete strangers. without your mobile phone, may you add. you managed to persuade jungkook’s mother to leave an hour ago because you didn’t want her to sleep on the uncomfortable couch.

the lights are turned off except for the lamp beside your bed, and with the television muted, you could hear a hairpin drop.

you’re alone and you can do whatever you want.

you dragged the visitor’s chair infront of the window to admire the garden like it’s a painting in motion. you watched people converse, stroll, and drink coffee. you watched them run for shelter when the clouds became too heavy and the sky began to fall. oh, so that’s why you couldn’t see the stars.

at this moment, there’s nothing left to amuse yourself with but the trembling of the leaves and the raindrops forming temporary rings when they fall in the water fountain.

your senses crave for more. you reach over and crack open the window, just enough to allow the sound of the rain and the scent of it permeating the earth to enter your room.

“this is kind of peaceful.” you whisper, amazed by the new lightness carried by your heart.

you close your eyes and you breathe in the petrichor deeply. you want nature in your lungs as a reminder that you’re alive. you welcome the cold wind kissing your face. you can feel your hair touching your neck. you always do, but for once, you’re choosing to acknowledge it. your thumb slowly brushes across the palm of your hand, perceiving the texture of your skin, the softness, and the lines. and your feet, they’re in the clouds, the fluffy slippers jungkook’s mother bought outside because she knows they’re your favorite to wear.

you’ve loved and despised this body for a million different reasons. your mind and heart have accepted defeat countless times, but your body wakes up to every brand new day without fail. your body implores you to live. did it finally give up on you today?

“baby!”

you look behind to search for the source of the sound.

you get your answer from the kiss planted on your lips.

you only saw his face for a split second, but even if you had your eyes closed, you’d know it has to be jungkook kissing you.

you can smell him. you’ve memorized the way the shape of his lips fits with yours.

oh, the sounds of his kisses too. you like to call them the butterfly call because they make butterflies appear in your stomach.

you could trace the scar on his cheek with your finger if you want to.

god, what a privilege it is to experience life in this vessel.

a knock on the door forces you to part too early. the same nurse from earlier enters and you internally scream all the curse words in your dictionary. jungkook acknowledges her with a bow and a quick ‘hello’ before squatting down infront of you.

“i committed another crime for you today.”

“huh?”

your wide, confused eyes take a glimpse at the nurse who is doing something with the controls of your iv line.

hahaha… she knows he’s not serious, right?

“what did you do?”

his smile is so big that his eyes have turned into little crescent moons. you’d make a guess but there is an infinite amount of things jungkook could possibly be this excited about.

…apparently, one of them would be strawberry cake.

you gape at the transparent box he was hiding behind his back all along.

“did you steal somebody’s birthday cake?!”

“it’s a producer’s birthday and he received lots of cakes, so he told me i can take one home.”

“how is it stealing if he allowed you to take it?”

he tosses his backpack on the couch as he sets down the box on the table. he rummages through the bag his mother left behind, successfully bringing out a spoon. meanwhile, you get your blood pressure taken again.

as he opens the box, he sends a smirk your way.

“no. i hid the strawberry cake because there’s so many who wanted to eat it.”

“are you crazy?!”

the nurse clicks her tongue. “don’t talk and stay still, please.”

“oh,” your hand flies to your mouth on instinct. “i’m sorry.”

“i’m sorry.” jungkook also apologizes.

you and your boyfriend secretly share a look, exchanging a smile that is stifled laughter inside. your lips remain zipped as the nurse restarts the process of taking your blood pressure. on the other hand, jungkook eats a spoonful of cake, teasingly wiggling his eyebrows at you. you roll your eyes and he tries harder to laugh without a sound.

seconds later, he grumbles about the room being too warm. he wipes the beads of sweat on his forehead using the back of his hand, and he does the worst thing he could possibly do at this moment. he reaches for his back, pulling his sweater over his head. naturally, his inner shirt rides up and allows wandering eyes a peak at his glorious toned abdomen.

passed out in the shower. busted your eyebrow open. front-row seat for a woman flirting and ogling at your boyfriend.

how fucking great.

“hello? i think it’s done.” you snap.

“a-ah, yes.”

you hear her swallow as she removes the cuff from your arm. she may be wearing a mask but she’s hot and red all the way to her ears. you’ve only read about it in books. you didn’t even believe this could happen in real life until now.

“i will check your temperature too.”

“go on.”

you repeat the same process from hours earlier, drumming your fingers on your thigh as you wait for the beep.

“yah, why is the window open? you’ll catch a cold.”

jungkook, yet again, steals the attention of every person in the room when he rises to his feet. his shadow casts over you as he closes the window.

“i wanted to smell the rain.”

“is the room getting too stuffy for you?”

you shrug. “i just wanted to smell the rain.”

you feel the nurse’s stare. you offer her a smile and her nameplate briefly gets caught by your vision. kang ji-woo.

“ji-woo; that’s a pretty name.” you pay her a sincere compliment. “it’s healing, don’t you think?”

“yes? uh-uhm, y-yes…” she replies, unsure and confused by the sudden small talk. “actually, it’s been linked to a reduction in stress and anxiety levels.”

“thank you! babe, did you hear that?”

“uhuh, think about my stress and anxiety levels.” he leans against the window with his arms crossed, raising an eyebrow at you.

so now he’s flexing his arm muscles. cool, cool, cool. you know he’s not doing it on purpose and his entire existence is just naturally hot and it’s infuriating.

“i’ve been worried sick about you all day.”

his statement makes you frown for a new reason. at the same moment, the thermometer beeps.

“could you please tell him that i’m fine?”

“37.3, uhhh- that’s slightly above normal. how do you feel? does your head hurt? are you cold?”

“i feel fine though?”

“okay. please take a lot of rest and stay warm…” her gaze lingers at jungkook who is blocking the window. “keep the window closed. hopefully it won’t be higher when i check again later.”

seriously?! you could cry. you want to go home where it’s comfortable. where it’s only you and jungkook and bam.

but you bet somebody would be happy if you had to stay longer.

“i’ll look after ____.” your boyfriend sighs, pulling out a jacket from his backpack.

“you shouldn’t have kissed me. what if you get sick?”

your blatantness causes the nurse to pause in updating your chart. she awkwardly clears her throat. “yeah… that… that isn’t currently advisable.”

“i’m sorry. i’ll control myself.”

you earn a glare from jungkook, then he fakes a smile which you gladly return.

“before you go, may i request for a new blanket? sorry, i spilled something earlier.”

“sure thing! i’ll come back with that right away.”

—

“she seemed happy to leave.” jungkook remarks. “i can’t tell if you were actually being nice or being passive aggressive.”

you smile innocently, taking a bite off the strawberry you stole from the top of the cake. “i’m a fucking angel.”

damn it, why is he suddenly turned on?

were you serious about the no kiss rule?

“would you rather i be the type to pull their hair?”

he shakes his head with a laugh. “but you did slap someone once.”

“you want to see me that furious again?”

“never in my wildest dreams.”

he kisses the top of your head, producing an exaggerated ‘mmmwah!’ sound that makes you giggle happily.

“here, have some more cake.”

he offers you a spoonful of cake.

no, it’s bigger.

as a matter of fact, the piece could probably pass off as a cupcake.

you gawk at it as if you’re figuring out the logistics of putting it in your mouth. his heart does a flip when you tilt your head and do your best to take in the whole thing. however, in the middle of it, you decide that you can’t, and you end up biting it off a little more than halfway.

oh my god, he loves you. he loves you. you’re so fucking cute.

your cheeks are full as you struggle to chew. you cover your mouth with your hand but they don’t touch. you’re so elegant in your ways and sometimes he wonders how you’re still attracted to him after he acts stupid.

also, plain white nails? that’s new. you always want colors.

“your nails look pretty.”

he is so focused on you that he fails to take notice of another presence occupying the room.

“your mom did them for me.”

“i figured. she wants to do mother-daughter things with you.”

the short break of silence speaks volumes. you look at him, blinking with eyes hinting at a type of joy you’re lost on how to express.

“did you choose white?”

“no. we were watching a drama and it was the couple’s wedding.”

oh, that makes total sense.

“let me guess,” he trails off with a half-embarrassed, half-entertained smile. “she asked when we will get married?”

“why would she ask me that? how would i know?” you scoff.

his heart starts at a thousand miles per hour. fuck, are you hinting at him? are you messing with his feelings again? with you, he always needs to remind himself to be rational.

“i need more time to prove to you that i’m husband material.”

“what? stop it. i don’t care. i don’t need a ring.”

your unpredictableness pushes him to the edge of his seat.

“don’t pressure yourself. you already treat me way better than most husbands do their wives.”

the pride painted on your face is unmistakable. he feels his heart swelling in his chest. has he been doing a better job than he originally thought? after what happened today, he was terrified that he hasn’t been paying enough attention to you.

“i’m so happy with what we have.”

you offer him a delicate smile before eating the rest of the cake that was left on the spoon. he swears there’s a glowing halo above your head.

could your temperature have magically dropped in the past five minutes? would you kill him if he kissed you right now?

“is there anything else i could assist you with?”

and then he is rudely snapped out of his hopeless adoration and daydreaming.

“that’s all! thank you for your hard work!” you chirp.

he turns to the nurse with a lovesick grin.

“please come to our wedding.”

the unforeseen wedding invitation earns him a slap on the chest. he clutches the affected area, wincing in pain.

he hears you mutter. “don’t invite strangers to our wedding.”

the irritated glare he predicted to face isn’t there. rather, you’re wearing the flustered smile he only sees when he knows that he did something to make you fall for him all over again.

before ji-woo left, she tried to subtly reject the invitation by jokingly saying that she’d die to go, but most probably, she’d have to work that day. you know… being an overworked hospital employee and all. you caught her glancing at you with bitterness failed to be guised as indifference. you get it. you’d hate it if another person was in your place. frankly speaking, you could be miles pettier.

your boyfriend wipes the corner of your lips, thoughtless as he licks off the cake frosting from his thumb.

damn it, you wish she was also here for that.

“you haven’t stopped smiling.”

“you love me and you never let me forget that.”

you give an answer despite the lack of a question mark.

you just made his world stop spinning on its axis and you’re not even aware.

jungkook knows the heavenly feeling of knowing that he is loved, but he has never deeply considered the joy and relief when the person he loves believes that he loves them.

“i’m so lucky. i love you.”

you push yourself up to plant a kiss on his forehead. it’s a rarity he treasures and keeps.

“i love you too.”

he cries infront of you.

almost.

he excuses himself to the bathroom and cries in there a little.

you’re so easy to love— that’s why it makes him want to do difficult things for you. like commit more crimes?

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