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speaknow-sw · 25 days ago

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THE POET AND THE ROSE

Content : kissing, deaths, injuries, stitching, descriptions of battle, stabbing, fluff.

A/N : 7.1k words damn I can’t get enough of these two and it’s only chapter 5 💀. Anyway y’all are thirsty asf for this fic so here’s chapter 5 that I sprinkled with some ✨DRAMA✨ to sent y’all into orbit. MAMA IS FEEDING YOU TODAY !!!

꧁ Chapter 5 : The Enemy Hides in Lies ꧂

From the Lays of General Anakin Skywalker, XIII century

The dawn breaks soft on battered lands,

A fleeting peace in trembling hands.

Yet love, like spring, begins to grow,

A fragile bloom through frost and woe.

The great hall was a theater of shadows, the flickering torchlight casting distorted shapes along the walls as nobles gathered around the grand oak table. The air was heavy with the scent of wax and wine, but beneath the surface, an invisible current of tension rippled through the room. Anakin stood at the head of the table, his posture commanding, his eyes sharp. Every face he looked upon was a puzzle to be solved—a potential piece in a game of betrayal he was only beginning to decipher.

Count Aulbry was the first to speak, as Anakin expected. The man always seized the moment, his voice a blend of false concern and barely veiled condescension. "My lord, your victories on the northern front are, of course, commendable. Few could have led our armies with such skill against Wallace and his men."

There was a pause, artfully calculated.

"But it does leave me wondering… Has our focus on the Scots left the kingdom vulnerable to other threats? A prolonged absence of leadership often invites… instability."

Anakin’s expression remained stony, though his grip tightened ever so slightly on the armrest of his chair. "Instability arises when men forget where their loyalties lie, Count," he said, his voice low but cutting. "Is there something specific you fear, or are these merely idle musings?"

Aulbry smiled, but it did not reach his eyes. "Idle musings, perhaps. One cannot help but notice certain… tensions in the southern provinces. Grain shipments have been delayed, and a few towns have reported unrest. A minor matter, I’m sure, but in times of peace, even minor matters deserve attention."

The mention of the grain shipments was not new to Anakin—he had already received reports from his stewards—but hearing it from Aulbry made the matter feel calculated, as if the Count was laying a trap with his words. Anakin’s gaze swept the room, noting the subtle shifts in posture among the other nobles. Whispers had begun to circulate in court—whispers that spoke of dissatisfaction, of plots brewing in the shadows.

"Minor matters, indeed," Anakin replied, his voice measured. "Rest assured, I have already taken steps to address them. The people will not starve under my watch."

"And yet," Aulbry pressed, "it is curious that such disruptions would occur now, so soon after your triumphant return. It almost seems as if—"

"Almost seems as if what, Count?" Anakin interrupted, his tone cold and final.

Aulbry hesitated, his smile faltering for the briefest moment. "Only that perhaps certain… elements may be testing the limits of this fragile peace. We must all remain vigilant, my lord. Especially you."

The words hung in the air like smoke. Anakin held Aulbry’s gaze, his silence more oppressive than any retort. When he finally spoke, his words were deliberate. "Vigilance is a duty I take seriously, Count. Perhaps you should do the same."

Aulbry bowed his head slightly, but Anakin saw the flicker of frustration in his eyes. The Count was testing boundaries, pushing at the edges of loyalty and decorum. And he was not alone.

The meeting concluded with the scrape of chairs and murmured pleasantries as the nobles filtered out. Anakin remained seated, his eyes following each man and woman as they departed. Only Aulbry lingered, his steps slow and deliberate as he approached the head of the table.

"My lord," the Count said, his tone dripping with false sincerity. "I hope you do not take my concerns as criticism. I only wish to see the kingdom prosper under your leadership."

"Prosperity does not grow from doubt, Count," Anakin replied, standing to his full height. "If you truly wish to see the kingdom flourish, you might begin by trusting the men who fight to protect it."

Aulbry’s lips twitched into a tight smile. "Wise words, my lord. I shall take them to heart."

Anakin watched as the Count left, the tension in the room finally breaking with his departure. But the unease in Anakin’s chest did not fade.

Later that night, Anakin stood on the battlements, the cold wind tugging at his cloak. Below, the village was a patchwork of flickering lights, its quiet hum a stark contrast to the silent storm raging in his mind. He could feel it—an undercurrent of unrest threading its way through the kingdom, subtle but insistent. The signs were everywhere: delays in supplies, vague reports of unrest, the growing boldness of men like Aulbry.

War had taught him to trust his instincts, and they were screaming now. He did not yet have proof, but he knew—knew—that something was amiss.

The crown weighed heavier on him with each passing day. He had fought for peace, had bled for it, but peace was proving to be a battlefield of its own. The enemy was not an army but a shadow, shifting and elusive. And shadows, he knew, could only be banished by light.

He rested a hand on the hilt of his sword, its familiar weight grounding him. He would find the truth, and when he did, there would be no room for mercy. For now, he would play their game, but he would play to win.

The castle felt colder tonight, the stone walls seeming to echo every hesitant footstep you took. A fire crackled in the hearth of your chambers, but its warmth did little to ease the chill that had settled deep within you. You sat at your desk, a blank sheet of parchment before you, the quill in your hand trembling as you contemplated what you were about to do.

How much could you tell him? How much should you tell him?

The betrayal weighed heavily on your chest, a burden you could no longer ignore. Your father’s plans had become clearer with each passing day, his letters to Count Aulbry a chilling reminder that you were nothing more than a pawn in a game of power. And yet, to expose him would mean condemning your family—your blood.

But Anakin...

Anakin, with his unyielding strength and sharp mind, had become more than just a reluctant husband. He was your partner, your protector, your anchor in a world that seemed to shift beneath your feet. The thought of betraying him, even through silence, filled you with a guilt so fierce it was almost unbearable.

You dipped the quill into the ink and began to write, the words flowing out in a code you hoped he would understand.

"Beware the hand that offers peace but hides a dagger. Trust not the smile that does not reach the eyes. The enemy within wears the guise of a friend."

You hesitated, then folded the parchment carefully, sealing it with wax. The message was cryptic enough to avoid suspicion should it fall into the wrong hands, but you prayed Anakin’s sharp mind would unravel its meaning.

The castle’s long corridors seemed quieter than ever that morning, the weight of your secrets pressing down on every step you took. You carried a tray of tea in your hands, the porcelain rattling faintly against the silver as your fingers trembled.

Anakin had returned just days ago, his presence both a comfort and a torment. He was closer now than ever before, yet the chasm between your love and the truths you withheld felt insurmountable. Every glance, every touch, every whispered word only deepened the ache inside you.

You paused outside his study, steadying yourself before entering. The door creaked softly as you pushed it open, revealing him hunched over the table, his broad shoulders tense as he studied the maps and reports before him. Sunlight filtered through the tall windows, casting golden highlights in his dark hair.

When he looked up, the weariness in his expression softened instantly, replaced by something warmer. Something reserved for you.

“You shouldn’t carry such things yourself,” he said, standing quickly to meet you. His voice was firm, but the faint curve of a smile betrayed his gratitude.

“And yet I wished to,” you replied with a small smile of your own.

You crossed the room to set the tray on the table, your movements deliberate, though your heart raced with the anticipation of what you were about to do. As you placed the tea before him, your fingers brushed his—just a fleeting touch, but one that sent warmth spiraling through you.

“You spoil me,” he said, his tone quiet but tinged with humor.

“You deserve spoiling,” you replied, your words light but sincere.

His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer than necessary, and you could feel the weight of his attention. Your breath hitched as you stepped back, sliding the folded note beneath one of the maps. Your hand hovered for a moment, but then you turned, ready to leave before your courage faltered.

But Anakin’s hand caught yours, his grip firm yet tender, halting you in your tracks.

“Stay,” he said, his voice low, but with a quiet insistence that left no room for refusal.

You hesitated only a moment before nodding, allowing him to guide you to a seat beside him. The distance between you closed, and suddenly the room felt smaller, the world beyond the study’s walls forgotten.

For a time, there was only silence between you, save for the soft crackle of the fire in the hearth. You could feel his presence beside you, solid and grounding, yet there was an unspoken tension in the air—a weight neither of you could name.

Finally, he broke the quiet.

“I’ve missed you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, as though confessing a forbidden truth. “More than I realized I could.”

The words struck something deep within you, and you turned to face him fully, searching his face for any trace of doubt. There was none—only sincerity, tinged with a vulnerability you had rarely seen in him.

“I missed you too,” you admitted, your voice trembling. It was the truth, but it felt inadequate to capture the depth of your longing.

Anakin reached out then, his hand brushing against your cheek, his touch achingly gentle. The callouses on his fingers spoke of battles and hardships, yet his touch was softer than anything you had ever known. You leaned into his hand, your eyes fluttering closed as you allowed yourself a moment of reprieve.

When his lips met yours, it was slow, almost hesitant, as though testing the fragile bond that had formed between you. The kiss deepened, carrying with it an unspoken promise—a vow neither of you could yet put into words.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the quiet intimacy of the moment.

“There’s so much I don’t say,” he murmured, his voice raw with emotion. “But you have to know—”

“I do,” you interrupted, placing a hand on his chest. Beneath your palm, you felt the steady beat of his heart—a reminder of his strength, his humanity. “I know.”

For a long moment, the two of you simply sat there, the world outside the study forgotten. You wanted to tell him everything, to unburden yourself of the secrets that threatened to consume you. But fear held you back—fear of what your revelations might do to the fragile trust you had built.

Later, as he returned to his work, his attention fell on the maps and reports scattered across the table. His sharp eyes caught the folded parchment tucked beneath the edges of the papers, and his brow furrowed as he reached for it.

From the doorway, you watched as he unfolded the note, his gaze scanning the words you had written. His expression darkened slightly, his fingers tightening around the parchment.

He looked up then, his eyes meeting yours across the room. There was no accusation in his gaze, only a quiet question—a plea for understanding.

You offered him a faint smile before slipping away, your heart heavy with the weight of what you had done. You prayed he would understand the warning you had left for him.

And you prayed, too, that the love you had begun to share would be strong enough to weather the storms that lay ahead.

The midday sun cast golden light through the stained-glass windows of your chamber as you sat by the desk, attempting to focus on a new canvas. But the brush in your hand felt heavier than usual, and the colors blurred together, your thoughts elsewhere.

Anakin had left at dawn for a hunt, his absence stretching like a shadow over the castle. You found yourself restless, unsettled by a creeping sense of unease that had lingered since his departure.

A sharp knock at the door interrupted your thoughts. One of the castle’s attendants entered, carrying a folded piece of parchment sealed with no crest. The lack of identification immediately caught your attention.

“This arrived for you, my lady,” the attendant said, bowing as they set the letter on your desk.

“Who delivered it?” you asked, but the attendant only shook their head.

“It was left with the guards at the gate, my lady. No messenger lingered.”

Your fingers trembled as you reached for the parchment, the faint scent of ash and wax clinging to it. Unfolding the letter, you read the hurried scrawl within:

“Beware the serpent that coils close to the lion. Tonight, blades will be drawn in shadows, and blood will stain the throne. Protect him, or all will be lost.”

Your breath caught. The words were cryptic yet chillingly clear—a warning of betrayal, danger aimed at Anakin, and treachery from someone within the castle walls.

The sound of boots echoed in the corridor outside, and you quickly folded the letter, tucking it beneath the edge of your desk. A moment later, Obi-Wan Kenobi stepped into the room.

He had returned to the castle only days before, bringing with him reports of the Scots' retreat. His presence had initially been a comfort, his calm demeanor reassuring amid the chaos of court politics. But as Anakin’s trusted right-hand man, his arrival had also coincided with a strange tension.

“My lady,” Obi-Wan said, inclining his head. “I trust the day finds you well?”

“Well enough,” you replied, though your voice betrayed the unease tightening your chest.

He stepped closer, his hands clasped behind his back, his gaze steady but unreadable. “Anakin will return soon, I presume?”

You nodded, forcing a smile. “He should be back before nightfall.”

“And yet, you seem troubled,” Obi-Wan observed, his tone casual but sharp. “Is there something amiss?”

You hesitated, your mind racing. Could Obi-Wan be the serpent the letter warned of? Or was this paranoia taking root, fed by the growing web of deceit surrounding you?

“I have much on my mind,” you said carefully. “The court’s whispers, the growing unrest. Surely you’ve noticed it too.”

Obi-Wan’s expression softened, and he took a step closer, his voice lowering. “The court is always restless. But if there is something specific troubling you, you need only say the word. Anakin would want me to protect you in his absence.”

The sincerity in his voice sent a pang of guilt through you, but the memory of the letter’s warning gnawed at your resolve.

“I’ll manage,” you said, your tone firmer. “Thank you, Sir Kenobi.”

Obi-Wan hesitated for a moment, as though weighing your words, before nodding and stepping back. “As you wish, my lady. But do not hesitate to summon me if you need anything.”

With that, he left the room, the door closing softly behind him.

You had just resolved to wait for Anakin’s return when a knock at the door startled you. It was one of the chambermaids, her face pale and her hands wringing nervously.

“My lady,” she said, “I thought you should know... Sir Kenobi and Count Aulbry were seen riding out together just now. They seemed... urgent.”

The words sent a chill through you. “Did they say where they were going?”

The maid shook her head. “No, my lady. But they rode toward the northern woods.”

Toward the royal hunting grounds.

Panic gripped you. Anakin had ridden there with the king this morning, and now his supposed ally and his most vocal opponent had followed, shrouded in secrecy.

You clenched your hands into fists, your mind racing. The letter’s warning, Obi-Wan’s strange behavior, Aulbry’s open hostility—it all aligned too perfectly. If they meant to harm Anakin, you couldn’t sit idly by.

The stable smelled of hay and cold earth as you approached, your breath visible in the crisp air. The stable master startled at the sight of you, his eyes wide with alarm as you strode toward the nearest horse.

“My lady, what are you—”

“Prepare her,” you interrupted, your voice steady despite the chaos inside you. “The mare, now.”

He hesitated, hands trembling as he fumbled with the tack. “It isn’t safe, my lady. You can’t ride alone.”

“Safe?” The word cracked from your lips, harsh and bitter. “Safe is a word I can no longer afford. Saddle her, or I’ll do it myself.”

His protests faltered as he moved quickly, his fear of disobedience outweighing his confusion. The mare was readied within minutes, her dark eyes reflecting your own urgency.

Your skirts snagged as you mounted, but you paid it no mind, gripping the reins and spurring the horse forward before the stable master could voice another word.

The wind sliced through you as the mare thundered over the frost-covered earth. Each hoofbeat echoed like the drum of war, steady and relentless, driving you closer to the woods. The trees loomed ahead, their bare branches clawing at the sky, and with them came the weight of your growing dread.

Anakin. His name was a heartbeat in your mind, a mantra that propelled you forward. You could see him in your mind’s eye—strong, resolute, his brow furrowed in thought as he stood apart from the world, carrying its burdens alone.

Would he believe you?

The question clawed at you as you rode, your fingers trembling against the reins. Would he see your desperation as weakness? Would he blame you for suspecting Obi-Wan, the man who had fought beside him in countless battles?

Or worse—what if you were wrong?

The thought was unbearable, but the image of the letter was sharper still. Its words were a call to action, and inaction felt like betrayal.

You pushed the mare harder, her breaths coming in sharp bursts as you entered the woods. The hunting party’s distant voices reached your ears, their tones hushed but unmistakable.

“Almost there,” you whispered, your words carried away by the wind.

The mare slowed as you approached the clearing, and you dismounted swiftly, your boots crunching against the frosted ground. The shadows of men and horses flickered through the trees, their forms half-obscured by the fading light.

You hesitated, your pulse quickening as you moved closer, the forest around you suddenly heavy with silence.

The words from the letter echoed in your mind, louder than ever. “Blades will be drawn in shadows...”

You glanced over your shoulder at the mare, now tethered to a low-hanging branch, and took a deep breath. The weight of what you had to do pressed against your chest like armor.

Somewhere in this forest, Anakin was unaware of the knife poised at his back. And you would move heaven and earth to ensure it never reached him.

From the Lays of General Anakin Skywalker, XIII century

The foe you see is not the hand,

That strikes unseen, or makes its stand.

Deceit is woven through their guise,

The truest battle hides in lies.

The early morning fog clung to the trees like a damp veil, shrouding the forest in an eerie stillness. Anakin’s boots sank into the earth with each step of his horse, the rhythmic clip-clop of hooves resonating beneath the thick canopy. His mind wasn’t on the hunt, not really. He had ridden out on the king’s orders, ostensibly to track game through the thick woods, but every instinct in his body told him something was wrong. A nagging feeling of unease gnawed at the edge of his thoughts.

The cold air cut through his cloak, yet the discomfort of the chill was nothing compared to the unease stirring deep within him. He had tried to ignore it—after all, he had faced far worse than a simple hunting expedition. But it was there, a persistent presence, an itch under the skin that he couldn’t shake.

"Stay alert, Anakin," he muttered to himself, his breath misting in the cold morning air. His instincts had never been wrong before.

Suddenly, there was a rustling in the underbrush. Anakin’s hand immediately went to the hilt of his sword, his gaze scanning the surroundings. The forest was quiet again, unnervingly so. He heard the faintest snap of a twig, too far to his left to be a deer. His eyes narrowed, and his breath held as he dismounted silently, glancing at the trees above for any sign of movement.

The shadows were his enemies now. He couldn’t risk being ambushed.

He was barely aware of the first movement—a swift motion to his right, a shadow crossing his line of vision—before he heard the unmistakable sound of steel scraping against leather. A flash of cold metal, a blur of movement, and then—nothing.

It all happened so fast. He had learned long ago that the most dangerous threats were often the ones you couldn’t see until it was too late.

From the corner of his eye, he saw the blur of a figure darting toward him, and without hesitation, Anakin spun around, drawing his sword in one fluid motion. A man lunged at him from the trees, the assassin’s blade aimed at his side, but Anakin deflected it with a practiced swing, their swords clashing with a ringing sound that reverberated through the dense woods.

But then, as if from every direction, more figures emerged—six, no, eight men surrounding him. They were silent, fast, moving with the precision of a well-coordinated attack. His heart pounded in his chest, the adrenaline surging as the battle instincts kicked in. Anakin’s eyes scanned the men, calculating, assessing, his hand moving as if it had a life of its own. His sword met the blade of another attacker, their weapons locked in a deadly struggle.

The noise of the fight was deafening—the clash of steel, the grunts of exertion, the sharp cries of men falling as they tried to overcome him. But there was something different about this attack. The men didn’t move like mercenaries; they moved with the fluidity of soldiers trained in the art of war, and they seemed to have been waiting for him. The very ground beneath him seemed to tremble with their numbers.

His breath came ragged, his eyes darting between enemies, trying to predict the next move. He didn’t have much time. The trees provided little cover, and every swing of his sword was an invitation for another blow. He gritted his teeth and blocked another strike, parrying to the side before slashing his blade through the chest of one man. His breath was heavy now, the sweat dripping down his brow despite the cold.

But then the realization hit him, cold as ice.

They weren’t after the hunt.

They were after him.

The words echoed in his mind, but he didn’t have time to process them. A sword sliced across his chest, just missing his vital organs. He staggered back, breath stolen for a moment, his blood staining his tunic. The rush of pain barely registered as his instincts kicked in, his grip tightening on the hilt of his sword as he batted another attack aside.

One man dropped to the ground with a grunt, but that didn’t matter. There were still too many, and they were closing in, pushing him toward the dense underbrush. A few were already injured, but not enough to halt their assault.

The moon hung high in the sky, barely visible through the dense canopy of trees as the darkness swallowed Anakin whole. He had been fighting for hours now—bloodied, exhausted, but resolute. The twelve men who had attacked him had already taken down several of his own, and the forest felt like a battleground in hell. The night air was thick with the smell of blood and smoke. The forest echoed with the sound of sword clashing, of desperate men shouting orders.

But it was still quiet. Too quiet.

Anakin felt the familiar presence of danger creeping closer, but it wasn’t just the attackers that gnawed at him. His heart was pounding in his chest as he thought of you. His thoughts were filled with the images of your face, your soft voice calling his name, and he feared for you. He had never been afraid in a fight, not in all the battles he had seen—but this was different. He feared for your safety.

Where are you?

He couldn’t shake the thought. He tried to push it away, tried to concentrate on the men surrounding him, but it wasn’t easy. His body was aching, blood flowing freely from the multiple cuts across his torso. He had barely managed to keep the attackers at bay, and now, with each passing second, they grew closer. They had surrounded him.

With a burst of adrenaline, Anakin swung his sword again, cutting through another man, but his vision was starting to blur. His grip on his sword was weakening, but he could feel his determination growing stronger. I must survive, for her.

That’s when he heard it.

The sound of hooves, distant at first, but growing louder, faster. The unmistakable sound of a rider galloping in the woods.

No, not you. His heart raced even faster. He could feel your presence getting closer, but he had no way of stopping you.

He couldn’t keep fighting and get to you in time. But you were so close now, he couldn’t wait.

Meanwhile, you had galloped through the woods, panic clawing at your chest with every thundering beat of the horse’s hooves beneath you. You could hear the faint echoes of battle in the distance—the clash of swords, the guttural cries of men. Your blood ran cold. You urged the horse onward, desperate to reach him, to stop whatever this madness was before it consumed him.

The woods were a maze of shadow and mist. You couldn’t see through the trees, couldn’t hear over the thundering of the horse’s hooves beneath you. It felt like you were racing against time, but what was worse was the gnawing, suffocating fear in your chest.

Please, Anakin, please be safe.

As the sounds of the battle grew louder, you felt your heartbeat in your throat. You could hear the shouts of soldiers. Then, without warning, a shadow leapt out from the trees.

Before you could react, a man grabbed your reins, yanking your horse’s head sharply to the side. He lunged at you, sword raised high.

Your heart froze. You reached up instinctively, fingers fumbling for the tiny dagger you had tucked in your hair for moments like this. The cold metal of the dagger was a comfort in your hand, but it was nothing compared to the weight of the situation. The man’s face was twisted in anger as he raised the sword, preparing to strike.

Fear clawed at you, but you refused to let it control you. You slashed the dagger across the man’s arm, but he hardly flinched. The blow wasn’t enough to stop him, and the sword came down at you again, too fast for you to dodge.

But before the blade could reach you, a roar split the air.

“DON’T TOUCH MY WIFE!” Anakin’s voice thundered through the trees, furious and primal.

You barely had time to register his words before his form appeared in front of you, bloodied and furious. His sword cut through the air in a flash, knocking the would-be attacker aside with a force that left no room for mercy.

You didn’t have time to breathe, didn’t have time to think. Anakin’s eyes were locked on you, fierce and protective, but his face was pale, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His chest was covered in blood, and yet his gaze never left you.

He turned back to face the remaining attackers, his anger and pain mingling in a way that made your heart ache. You reached out, desperate to touch him, but as your hand brushed against his, he pushed you back.

“I said stay back!” His voice was hoarse, but filled with a raw, desperate need to protect you. “It’s not over.”

You watched helplessly as Anakin stepped forward, meeting the four men who had remained hidden in the shadows. Each strike was met with a new burst of agony, a struggle against the men who relentlessly attacked him. His movements were slower now, each swing of his sword weaker than the last. But even as his body betrayed him, his will never faltered.

The battle felt like it went on for an eternity, each second stretched thin by the raw tension and fear that swelled inside of you. You couldn’t watch any longer. It felt like you were suffocating under the weight of the moment. But even then, you saw him—he was still fighting.

And then, the final blow came.

One of the men drew his bow and released an arrow with deadly accuracy. You saw it happen in slow motion. The arrow soared through the air, and for a brief, horrified second, you knew what was about to happen.

It struck Anakin in the chest.

The sound that escaped his mouth was one of pure agony as the arrow buried deep into his lung. He staggered back, his sword faltering in his hand as he fought for balance.

“No!” you cried, rushing toward him despite the danger. But as you approached, you saw him fall to his knees, blood pouring from the wound. His face was pale, his lips already tinged with the blue of a wound too deep to ignore.

But even then, he didn’t give in.

“Anakin…” you whispered, dropping to your knees beside him. Your hands shook as you pressed against his chest, trying desperately to stop the bleeding.

He looked up at you, eyes filled with pain but a fierce determination still burning behind them.

“I’m not dying,” he whispered between labored breaths, the words strained and weak. “I won’t leave you.”

Tears welled in your eyes as you tore at the hem of your dress, ripping it to pieces to use as a makeshift bandage. Your hands were trembling, but you pressed the fabric to his chest, trying to staunch the flow of blood.

“I won’t let you die,” you said through clenched teeth, your voice trembling.

He took your hand then, squeezing it gently despite the agony that wracked his body.

“You’re all that matters,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I’ll live… because of you.”

His words, though weak, fueled your resolve. You kept applying pressure to his chest, watching as his color slowly returned, watching as he breathed deeply again, fighting the weariness in his limbs.

It was then that he finally stirred, groaning as he attempted to rise. He pushed himself to his feet with your help, his body shaking with the effort. Despite the pain, despite everything, he managed to stand tall.

“We need to get back to the king,” he said, his voice hoarse but filled with purpose. His gaze locked onto you, and for a moment, you could see nothing but the depth of his devotion in his eyes.

The two of you walked—no, staggered—back toward the camp, where the king’s men were gathered in stunned silence. As Anakin limped toward the center of the camp, still holding your hand, he confronted Count Aulbry. The nobleman, who had been so sly and quiet up until now, stood with a calm demeanor, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of doubt.

Anakin’s voice rang out, cutting through the air like steel.

“Did you think you could hide your treachery?” he demanded. “Did you think this would break me? You were wrong.”

Count Aulbry’s face remained impassive, but his jaw tightened as he denied any involvement. Yet the doubt lingered in his eyes, a dangerous sign that made Anakin even more resolute.

“I will uncover the truth,” Anakin declared, blood still soaking his chest as he glared at Aulbry with unyielding determination.

The confrontation had only just begun, and Anakin was more resolved than ever to expose the traitor for what he truly was.

The dim glow of the campfire flickered through the canvas of the tent, casting soft shadows that danced against the fabric walls. You sat next to Anakin, the firelight tracing the contours of his tired face, his features drawn with pain yet softened by the intimate stillness that surrounded you both. His chest heaved with each breath, though you could see the slow but steady recovery beginning as you gently unwound the bandage around his chest.

His wound, though grave, had been patched up. The bleeding had stopped, but the pain in his eyes lingered. You had tried to banish the worst of it by offering whatever comfort you could, but you knew that a part of him—one that he would never fully reveal—was still at war within.

"You’re relentless," you whispered softly, carefully peeling back the fabric of his shirt. “These arrows... They always manage to find your most vital points.”

Anakin looked down at the wound, his gaze thoughtful but distant. He gave a half-hearted chuckle, though it was edged with a touch of bitterness. "It's almost as if they know where to strike, isn't it?" His voice was rough, with a quiet humor trying to mask the ache that still lingered in him. His hand gripped the edge of the cot, and you could see the tension in his posture, a mixture of exhaustion and frustration.

“Or maybe it’s that you’re too quick to put yourself in harm’s way," you said with a teasing smile, the movement of your hands steady and sure as you replaced his bloodied bandage with fresh linen.

He chuckled softly, but his expression grew more serious as he leaned back against the pillows, his gaze never leaving yours. There was a weight to the silence that hung between you now, a heaviness that pulled at the edges of his soul. And you could feel it too—the depth of everything unspoken, the fragile trust between you now intertwined with something far deeper.

“You know, I’ve always thought I could protect myself,” Anakin began, his voice quiet, the words coming with a painful honesty that you hadn’t heard from him before. “But now… Now, I can’t help but wonder if I’ve been so focused on fighting everyone else that I’ve missed something closer to home.”

Your hands stilled as you finished tying off the bandage. You looked up at him, meeting his gaze. He looked vulnerable, even though he would never fully allow anyone to see it. The man who had always been a soldier, a leader, was now confiding in you—not just as a lover but as someone he trusted more than anyone else.

“What do you mean?” you asked, your voice soft, inviting him to share the heavy burden he was carrying.

His lips pressed together for a moment, and when he spoke again, it was with the weight of his suspicions, the quiet recognition that something was wrong—something much bigger than the battle they had fought.

“I think Count Aulbry... I think he’s behind all of this. I can feel it. Something about him doesn’t sit right with me.” His voice was low, almost hesitant, as though sharing this part of himself made him more vulnerable than any of the cuts that marred his skin.

Your heart ached for him. You could see the conflict in his eyes—the sharp intelligence that had always served him so well in battle was now clouded with doubt. It wasn’t just the wound that pained him. It was the fear that he was no longer in control, no longer able to protect those he loved, especially you.

“Anakin,” you whispered, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You don’t always have to carry the weight alone.”

He looked at you, his dark eyes searching yours as if looking for something—something that he needed but wasn’t sure how to ask for. His lips parted, but before he could speak, the silence between you was filled with the quiet rustle of the forest, the distant cry of a bird in the dark, the pounding of his own pulse in his ears.

“I’ve seen too many men lose themselves,” Anakin began, his voice distant. “Too many battles where it wasn’t the enemy I was fighting—it was what I had to give up to win.” He hesitated, as if weighing the significance of his words, before adding, “I’m beginning to wonder if the price of victory is too high.”

His words hung in the air between you like an unspoken truth, an ache that neither of you could escape. You knew what he meant. You understood the weight of his soul, the endless struggle of a man who had given everything—too much—and still couldn’t find peace.

“The price... is never too high,” you said softly, your voice thick with emotion. You leaned closer, your fingers brushing against his as you steadied his hand. “As long as we face it together.”

He swallowed hard, his gaze never leaving yours. It was as though, in that moment, he finally allowed himself to breathe, to let the walls around him fall just a little. His eyes softened, a rawness there that hadn’t been present before, and it struck you like a physical blow. The tenderness in him, buried beneath so many layers of strength and duty, was finally being revealed.

Without a word, his hand slid to your cheek, the touch tender and intimate. The contact was slow, deliberate, as if he were memorizing the feel of your skin against his. He leaned in, and for a moment, you were suspended in the space between you, where the world seemed to hold its breath.

And in that moment, with the weight of the world hanging over them, the kiss came—gentle at first, as if testing the waters, as if seeking permission to finally release all that had been held in for so long. His lips brushed against yours, soft and tentative, the tenderness of it shocking in its simplicity. But that kiss was enough to set your heart on fire.

You responded without hesitation, pulling him closer, letting your lips meet his with a desperate kind of sweetness, as if you were both trying to breathe life back into one another. His hand slid to the back of your neck, gently urging you closer, the firelight dancing across his face as you kissed him deeply.

The world around you fell away as his warmth enveloped you. His lips were insistent, demanding now, as if every kiss was a promise, every touch a vow that he would never let go of you. Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging him closer as if to reassure yourself that this moment, this love, was real.

You broke away for a moment, both of you breathless, gazing at each other with an intensity that made your heart ache. His forehead rested against yours, his breath mingling with yours as the world outside ceased to matter.

“I never wanted to pull you into this,” Anakin murmured, his voice hoarse, a quiet confession. “This war... it’s not something I can protect you from. Although, I would fight in a dozen wars to shield you, my rose. In a dozen liftetimes… if I ever fail to protect you…I… I could not live with it. If you fall I fall, I swear it on my honor, on my blood and on the gods.”

You smiled softly, running your hand through his hair, feeling the dampness of sweat and blood still clinging to his skin. “You don’t have to protect me, Anakin,” you whispered, your voice thick with a tenderness that threatened to break you. “We protect each other. That’s what this is.”

His eyes searched yours, his lips parting as if to speak, but he hesitated. Instead, he pulled you closer, holding you tight against him, and for a long moment, neither of you spoke. It was as though the world had stopped moving, leaving only the two of you in this space—this fragile, intimate moment where everything else faded into the background.

“I don’t deserve you,” he murmured, his voice barely audible.

You closed your eyes, resting your head against his chest. “You deserve everything, Anakin. Everything I can give.”

And in that moment, something shifted between you both. It wasn’t just love—it was trust. A promise that no matter how dark the days ahead might get, you would face them together. There was no fear, no hesitation now. Just the two of you, bound in this shared understanding.

You kissed him again, this time with the weight of everything you both held. The world outside could burn, and it wouldn’t matter. All that mattered was this—this connection, this bond that neither of you could name, but both of you knew would endure.

As you pulled away, Anakin’s eyes softened, a small but meaningful smile pulling at his lips. “I’ll face whatever comes, for you.” he whispered, his voice steady, yet filled with a quiet certainty.

And with that promise, you knew that no matter what storm might come, you would stand together, unwavering, your love a flame that could never be extinguished.

From the Lays of General Anakin Skywalker, XIII century

In the silence, my heart stopped to bleed,

For her breath was the air that I’d need.

If she fell, the world would cease its song,

For in her death, my life would be gone.

#hayden christensen #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x female reader #anakin skywalker x you #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker x reader #evie writes

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simp-ly-writes · 2 months ago

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The Silent Duke (pt. 1.5)

─────── · · A Smosh Bridgerton/Historical AU

Pairing: Duke!Spencer Agnew x F!Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: The newest writings from Lady Whistledown has been published detailing this seasons most eligible of bachelors and bachelorettes.

─ · · TAGS: bridgerton alternative universe, historical au, old-fashioned society, talks of marriage, hopeless-romantic reader, angst, fluff, and drama

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 471 | PART TWO

─ · · A/N: are we excited? 👀 (because I am! ✨)

─────── · ·

Dearest Gentle Reader,

It has occurred to me that it has been quite some time since my last update but fear not- your writer is back to report on the tons gossip.

A new season is upon us, will romance bloom within the Queens gardens once more? As last season we welcomed a most charming of couples, Penelope and Colin Bridgeton following his eldest brother the Viscount Anthony's and Viscountess Kates romance the year before. Will we be seeing Mister Benedict finally find love? Or will another family take to the spotlight?

Well, this author can already report to you that that is the case for a certain Duke has decided that this season he is to return back to the ton. After much time away studying amongst scholars and artists alike, the Duke Agnew has taken residence back in our fair city of Mayfair and has already caused quite the stir for hopeful mama's. Yet not anyone has gained the chance to make the Duke's acquaintance even when hosting their first event to start the season that it makes this author question how our Queen has faired with this information.

But even the most introverted and closed-door personalities do not stray from my pen as I've learned a great deal about the Duke Agnew. He has interests in literature, a patron of the arts. He houses a vast number of animals and collection of trinkets brought from his travels abroad and is said to have been spotted playing pall-mall and polo with his closet friend Mister Tran; a globe-trotter and seasoned sailor turned trades businessman who has also taken to the floor this season in the looks for a wife.

Yet that look seems to have already narrowed towards a certain Miss (name) as the potential couple has been seen dancing at balls and promoting around high park together. Could these most eligible of singles have already made up their hearts and minds? Or could there be another to split these two apart?

Well the ton most definitely thinks so as Miss (name) has been declared this seasons Diamond of the First Water and various mama's and papa's are ready to fight tooth and nail for their sons to have a chance with the charming and most beautiful (name).

But this author has been informed that apparently the ever intelligent and elegant (name) has shown little interest in finding a husband this season- so what is to think of their relationship with Mister Tran?

A most scandalous situation we find ourselves observing as Miss (name)'s block is filled down and around the corner with suitors and gifts these past afternoons. Whatever will come from this?

Well fear not, dear reader for this author will let you know even before the first mouth of gossip can open.

Yours Truly,

Lady Whistledown

─────── · ·

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madameinfinitehearts · 1 year ago

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Suppose the Crocomom theory became canon...

I want ONE thing to happen after the news of Luffy being Croc's kid gets out.

Imagine this:

Crocodile is just hanging out somewhere, preferably where several other people are also gathered. One of the other characters (let's use Doflamingo as an example) walks into the room and says OUT LOUD for Crocodile and everyone else to hear...

✨WHAT'S THE DRAMA, CROCO-MAMA~?✨

#one piece #sir crocodile #crocomom #crocodad #op crocodile #donquixote doflamingo #op doflamingo #honestly I also considered ussop doing this #but doffy just felt RIGHT #he would create this level of chaos #just for fun

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galaxiasgreen · 3 months ago

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🦡✨Troublesome and Unladylike

F!Reader shenanigans with Ominis/Reader [T-Rated, 6.2k words]

You turned back around, prepared to pay attention again, but Binns was coming your way. Literally, about to zone through the desk. Oh no, no, no! He'd see Ominis snoozing! Quickly your hand shot out, punching his arm in warning – but you were too forceful, batting it hard enough that his head slipped out of his grip and banged against the desk.

In which, your life changes twice in quick succession: the first, when you discover you have magic, and the second, when you meet an enigmatic blind Slytherin.

Tropes: romance/ humour/ drama, slow burn, black cat x golden retriever, opposites attract, forbidden love, hijinks and shenanigans, Muggle culture, Magic from a Muggle POV, canon rewrite.

[read on AO3, read on Wattpad]

A/N: This is an 8-chapter companion to ACVAS that I recently completed! No prior reading is required; it's mostly Gibby shenanigans that run parallel to the story of ACVAS. Enjoy <3

The stranger came in the hush of evening.

"Ssshhh!" Connor had your arm gripped, keeping you still on the stairs landing. "Stop being so noisy!"

"You're the one being noisy!" you snapped.

"Both of you, shut up," said Ellian. "I want to hear what they're saying."

You and your older brothers poked your heads between the stair bannister, desperate to snatch a little conversation from the living room downstairs. Your mother and father had shooed you all to their bedroom, where your baby brother Tam was currently fast asleep on the cot. You were supposed to be keeping an eye on him as they talked to the stranger downstairs, but of course, the curiosity was too much to bear. It seemed to be a trait that ran in the family.

"Can't hear squat," muttered Connor. At near nineteen, he was an adult himself, yet still treated as a child when home. He wanted to move out, but had not yet made enough money in lumbering. "One of us needs to go down. Find out if she's married. You know. Purely for educational purposes."

Your brow furrowed. "I thought you were committed to Matilda Asher."

"A man can have options, little sister."

"You were down there when she came in," asked Ellian. "Didn't you get a good look at her then? Was she wearing a ring?"

"Didn't see. Mama threw me out too quickly."

"Wouldn't want your ugly mug anyway, I expect."

"Coming from someone with a face like a slapped arse?"

You huffed at them. "If Mama catches us down there, she'll skin us alive."

"Yeah, only if she catches us." Connor grinned, then nudged you. "You're the smallest. You go."

"What? I can't—"

"You don't make the stairs creak. It has to be you." He nudged you again, harder this time, towards the top step. "Go on."

So you did. Step by step, clutching your glasses to stop them rattling, you tiptoed down until you were almost on the level below. The door peeled into view – open, giving you a great view of the stranger. And no wonder Connor was smitten, as the woman had the most luscious red hair you'd ever seen, cascading down her back in two thick plaits. With her turned away it was impossible to decipher her expression, but her skin was moonlight pale, her corset cinched tightly around a slim waist, the dress like an ocean of seafoam.

"— have been living in hiding for thousands of years, but I can assure you, we are a thriving community here and worldwide!" Her voice was warm, musical. "She will be well taken care of."

"But— witchcraft?" your father was saying. You did get a view of him, scrambled right up the back of the sofa, clenching the armrest. "My daughter— a heathen?"

My daughter. Me?

"Not at all, sir! And neither am I."

"The Bible ain't say nothing about witches doing good."

"I promise I understand where you're coming from. When I discovered the truth, I was shocked as well! But it is no bad thing, to be a witch." Exasperation crossed the lady's voice when your parents made no move to acquiesce. "I can see this is distressing you both. Perhaps you'd like a demonstration of what we can do?"

She pulled out a stick – a magic wand, you recognised from Punch & Judy skits – and gave it a swish. The teapot on the table levitated in air, pouring itself a cup. Your parents made a distressed noise.

So did you.

Both their eyes jumped to you. The woman turned then, surprised.

You ran back up the stairs.

"Well?" asked Connor. "What—"

"She— made the teapot float!" you cried. "The stranger— she made it pour tea without touching it! Like... like magic!"

But Ellian scoffed. "How much toffee nougat did you eat?"

"It's true, swear it!"

"Come off it," said Connor. "Did you even see if she was married?"

You pouted. "Do you really think I was concentrating on her hand when she made a teapot—"

"I thought I told you three to watch Tam?"

You spun around. Your mother, at the foot of the stairs, glaring at you. Oh no. But instead of divvying out chores as punishment, she crooked a finger. "Come downstairs, sweetling. Connor, Ellian, so help me, you better watch Tam or—"

"Going! Going," called Connor, and he sounded exceedingly disappointed to have only been fed the crumbs of a lie.

The crumbs of the truth.

You clung to your mother's shadow as you stepped into the living room. Your father was on his feet, as was the stranger, who offered a bright smile to you, even held out her hand.

"It's so nice to meet you, young lady," she said, beaming. "My name is Mirabel Garlick."

Garlick? What a funny name. Still, you knew what was polite, and shook her hand back, even though you were used to curtseying.

"Come sit, sweetling." Your mother shut the living room door and ushered you to the sofa, squished between her and your father like a protective bubble. Your father still clenched the armrest. "Ms Garlick wants to talk to you."

"Am I in trouble?" you asked. Tears fluttered to your eyes. "Am I a— heathen?"

Your father rumbled. "No, not at all, sweetling. I just..." He trailed off, clearly perturbed.

"You saw what I did with the teapot, yes?" asked Ms Garlick.

You nodded, mute.

You had no idea, then, that your life was about to change.

"I'm what we call a witch. There is a whole community of people out there who have the same abilities as we do, to wield magic."

Witch. Magic. We? "But none of that exists, ma'am," you mumbled. "And witches are— bad."

"That trick with the teapot. Was that bad?"

Hesitantly you shook your head. Actually, it was rather cool.

"I used to be like you. Very ordinary – perhaps to a fault! I grew up in Shoreditch, you see, with no idea that magical folk existed. I had also been fed many unflattering stories, fairy tales where witches steal away naughty children. These stories tend to exaggerate what we truly are: people who happen to have an affinity for magic. Have you ever done anything you can't explain?"

"No..."

"Are you certain? Think hard on it, now."

Your parents looked at you expectantly. "Remember last month, sweetling?" your mother prompted. "When Ellian—"

"When he stole my teddy bear." You gasped. "The washing basket exploded!" You cottoned onto their meaning, staring at Garlick. "I did that?"

Garlick intertwined her hands – no ring. "Yes! Magical ability often awakens at your age, about ten." She placed a hand on her heart. "I've come to visit you today because I represent Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, a secondary boarding school in Scotland, that teaches magic to hundreds of young witches and wizards such as yourself and enables you to bloom into your potential. You have been invited to join the new school year this September."

A school? Scotland? Why did that sound like a punishment? More tears filled your eyes. "But— I'm supposed to work at the confectionary with Papa, and Mama is meant to teach me more embroidery..."

Garlick leant forwards, eyes only for you. "I promise you, it is a wonderful experience. You'll learn many marvellous things that will prepare you for life as a young lady. Look at me, I'm a professor!"

A woman professor? And so young! That was almost unheard of.

"What do you teach?"

"A subject called Herbology, like gardening. But there are many subjects you will learn."

Still, you shifted, nervous. Garlick stood, which prompted your father to his feet as well, and pulled out a letter from her pocket, handing it to you.

"There is your acceptance letter, with a little more information. And!" She gave you a coin, one you'd never seen before, a dragon imprinted on the faces. "That there is a magical coin. Should you have any questions or concerns, you just rub the inscription, and I'll come as fast as I can. Currently I'm living at the school, but I'm happy to travel down to help you adjust." She looked at your parents. "I'll be in touch further about acquiring the necessary equipment and books before the start of term on the first of September."

"I-Is it really real?" you asked. "Magic?"

Garlick gave you a dazzling smile, and it made you feel a little less scared.

"It is! Hmm. Would you like one last trick, before I go?"

"Yes! Yes please."

She turned and pointed her magic wand at the door. "Accio."

The door swung towards her, with no prompt... and Connor and Ellian tumbled into the room.

"Ow, Jesus!"

"Connor, you ingrate—"

"Were you two there the whole time?" your mother thundered.

Garlick caught your eye, and you laughed, laughed so hard your stomach hurt.

When you first stepped into Diagon Alley, it was like someone reached inside you and stole your breath.

The crooked buildings lanced into the sky above, the air teeming with magic, and the street bustled with witches and wizards adorned in brightly-coloured cloaks and pointed hats. When you had read about witches, it was as Professor Garlick had suspected – they were terrifying, ugly creatures, boils on their faces, ragged clothes, dirt-clod fingernails and sinister motives. But Diagon Alley burst with vibrant life. There were owls and cats wrangling against cages, spells that popped like fireworks, stalls that served hot drumsticks, kebabs and battered fish. The smell alone drew you in, but Professor Garlick stopped you with a squeak.

"Now, hold on, hold on! Let's take a moment to process, shall we?"

A moment? You might need the whole day. Yet still your grin was unshakable as you watched two wizards exchange potted plants with flowers that were growing teeth, and a child eating a sweet that made her steam from the ears. Sometimes you passed witches that wore trousers, which when the initial shock wore off made you giddy with wild glee. Did that mean you could wear trousers too? Behind you, your parents were completely overwhelmed, you mother and father clutching each other's arms.

"Stay close, sweetling," your father said gruffly, but not even he could disguise his awe. "God, I need a cigar."

"We'll be meeting another family today," Garlick said cheerfully. "With another student raised in the non-magical world, like you."

"There are more like us?"

"Of course! Very odd, this year it seems there's only a handful starting, but not to worry. Most people are extremely friendly. They will help you whenever you need." She gestured them forwards, into the throng of shoppers. "Come, come!"

It didn't take you long to realise that, actually, aside from magic, these people weren't so different from your own. Witches hollered at one another, trying to outdo their displays of cauldron towers, another family laughed from the outdoor tables of a restaurant, their cutlery dancing. You were giddy when Garlick took you to Rosie Lee Teabag, the wizard version of a teashop, to meet an awaiting wizard and another family of three, including one trembling Indian boy, with brown hair and brown skin, hands fidgeting on the table.

"Pleasure to meet you all! I'm Carsten Bristlecone, Wizengamot undersecretary in the Ministry of Magic – ahem, the magical Cabinet, if you will." The wizard gestured to his charge. "This is Mahendra Pehlwaan. Remember what I said, Mahendra? This young lady is like you, raised in the non-magical world."

"N-Nice to meet you," stammered the boy.

"Hello!" you said brightly, giving a shallow curtsy. Well. Seemed like you were handling this whole magic thing a lot better than he was. "I'm excited to be friends!"

Both sets of parents exchanged pleasantries before your father insisted on grabbing a (very stiff) drink to see him through the day. You were rather impatient watching him nurse the glass rim, but Mr Bristlecone was eager to chat – mostly about himself, using terms that went right over your head.

"It was all out war, Professor! Imagine, a Niffler pack bold enough to steal Galleons from a leprechaun. Merlin's beard, I had to use Arresting charms to stop them mauling each other by the end!"

When your father had downed his whiskey, Garlick took you all to the bank to exchange shillings for wizard currency ("Oh my gosh, Mahendra, look how cool they are! They're goblins!"), then to the clothing shop for robes, the wand shop for wands, and the book shop for textbooks and quills. You could see your parents' expressions fall with each purchase – they never talked to you about money, of course, but it was always a pressing issue when their income was so modest. It was, apparently, one of the first questions your father asked when he found out you were accepted at the school, how much, precisely, it would cost. You didn't find out the answer, but you suspected that if it cost anything at all, you wouldn't be going.

You had just about bought everything now, the day waning into afternoon. Your parents were ahead, speaking to one another with Garlick and Bristlecone.

"This is sort of mad, isn't it?" you said to Mahendra. "That we're, you know, magical?"

"I still think this is an elaborate prank," he said, clutching tightly to the list of things they had to buy. "How do I know you're not a paid actress?"

"News to me if I was."

"I'm not ruling it out."

"So you think everyone here is paid?"

"Could be," he said stubbornly.

You rolled your eyes. "You're off your rocker." Then your gaze hooked on a shop to the distance, and your gasp made him flinch. "Mahendra, look! A sweet shop!"

"Sweets? That's not on the list."

You grabbed his jacket by the sleeve and dragged him to your parents. "Can we go to the sweet shop? Please? Pretty please? With hundreds and thousands?"

Of course, no one could really say no. If Heaven existed, this is what you imagined it would look like. So many varieties of sweets you'd never tried before, ones that changed your hair colour or turned your nose into a duck's bill, gum that blew balloons the size of a person and taffy that made you giggle like mad.

"We're just going to wait outside, sweetling," said your mother to you, as you were trying every flavour of sugar quill available. She leant close. "I think your father is beside himself with jealousy. Keeps grumbling about how our confectionary is better."

"He's right," you whispered cheekily. "Promise I won't buy much."

"Two things, that's all, all right?"

Mahendra stuck to your side through it all, perturbed by your enthusiasm. You had a terrible sweet tooth – which he commented on several times – but your parents didn't have enough money left, so in the end you only left with a sugar quill and a cauldron cake, and the secret promise you'd buy more when you were at Hogwarts proper.

"Can you see them?" you said outside, peering around through the crowds and clutching your paper bag close. "You're a bit taller than me."

Mahendra frowned. "No, but they can't be far."

"Let's look around!"

"What? No— hey, wait!"

You walked away anyway. Around the back of the building was a set of stone steps that descended into a crooked rope of an alley, lined with another litany of shop fronts. These, however, were painted with a stroke of night, all dark colours and gloom, and the people within equally dressed.

"Wow, cool! Shall we have a look? We haven't gone down here yet."

"What?" Mahendra shook his head. "No! The list doesn't say—"

"Oh, forget the list for a second, would you? We won't be long. Exploring is fun!"

You dragged him down the steps. A sign, you read, said Knockturn Alley, and for some reason it raised the hairs on your arms. A group of witches with hat brims that extended well below their eyes turned sharply to face you as you headed in deeper.

"I don't like this," said Mahendra.

You blew a raspberry. "You don't like anything."

"Don't you have any sense of self-preservation?" he said, exasperated. "We've lost our parents, and the two people who know this place better than all of us combined! We're in way over our heads here. I-I don't even want to be a wizard!"

Which was totally barmy. How could anyone discover all this and not feel intense wonder and awe? How could anyone learn that magic existed, and wish to return to a time when you didn't? You stopped in front of a bulging shop front, boasting some sort of strange artefacts. Necklaces, crockery, crusty tomes, old lanterns... Borgin and Burkes, read the sign. The door jingled, and out exited a man of pale, gaunt countenance. His gaze flickered to you.

"Hello!" you said cheerfully.

His expression soured.

"Mudblood spawn..."

You had no idea what that meant, and the man didn't elaborate when he strode briskly in the opposite direction. It didn't seem... particularly friendly. Strange, since Garlick insisted that most magical folk were really nice. You turned to the shop.

"What an oddball. Should we go in?"

"Absolutely not!" Mahendra squeaked. "We shouldn't— not without Ms Garlick, at least. Let's go back. Please. This place doesn't feel safe."

You pouted. "Fine. Bore."

Only, when you turned back around to go the other way, it seemed like the alleyway had changed, the cobblestone below your feet shifting leftwards rather than straight. Were alleyways meant to do that? Someone behind you sniggered, which finally tugged your smile into a frown. Now you had no idea how to get out, and by the dawning panic on his face, Mahendra knew it too.

"Now we're lost. We're going to die here! Die surrounded by—"

"Would you stop? Everything is hunky-dory. We just need to find an exit. We can ask someone!"

"Ask someone? They look like they'd sooner eat us for breakfast!"

"No they wouldn't." You laughed. "It's far too late for breakfast. Lunch, maybe."

Mahendra whinnied.

"You two!"

Luckily, Bristlecone came rushing towards them, hoisting his ruby cloak, and you had to admit, you did feel a sense of relief.

"What were you thinking, running off to this place? It's not safe here for your— it's not safe. Come now, make haste!"

Your parents scolded you when you returned. Too curious for your own good, they said, waggling their fingers. Bristlecone agreed, mumbling about safety against the ruffians and scoundrels that frequented Knockturn Alley – as it turned out, not a nice place for the normal person. Mahendra's parents reprimanded him, too, which did make you feel bad. So bad that you offered him your cauldron cake.

"Peace offering?" you said, sheepish. "For getting you into trouble?"

"I don't like sweets."

"I don't believe that."

Mahendra hesitated, then took it, trying not to smile. "Fine. Just don't get me in trouble again."

But you grinned.

"No promises."

You sobbed on Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.

You were excited, of course. Wildly, incomparably excited, bursting from you like lit gunpowder. You had your books and clothes and things all packed haphazardly in a trunk and wheeled to platforms nine and ten. You were awed again when, with Bristlecone and your parents, you ran straight for the brick wall separating the two platforms, and ended up in another place entirely.

Your father was gruff. "Might've hit my 'ead on the way through. How's there another pla'form between the pla'forms?"

Your mother hushed him, though you could tell she secretly agreed. They'd never get used to magic. You doubted you would either.

Bristlecone helped put your things in the carriage as you looked around. Parents were everywhere, hugging goodbye to their children. Trunks and cages were being manhandled inside, students trading hellos and homework like coin. You spotted a few who had to be your age, in your year, but you'd never met someone raised in the magical world. What if you were too different to fit in?

Mahendra was already there, having gone through the wall before you. His parents and he were checking and re-checking a list, because of course they were. When the train tooted, signalling its looming departure, you turned and threw yourself into your parents' arms, the tears coming hot and fast.

"You be good, sweetling, aw'right?" said your father. "You write us every day now."

"I will," you mumbled into his jacket.

"And you make sure you— do your homework and behave," your mother blubbered. "I don't know how magic works, but you be careful too. It's a blessing to go to school, so make the most of it."

You nodded, because nothing but distressed grunts would come out if you tried to speak again.

You were still sniffling when you boarded the train with Mahendra, hands trembling as you held your glasses and wiped your blouse sleeves across your face. Soon the station was far behind, and the sights were blurring past as the long journey to Scotland began.

"Still think you're being pranked?" you asked him, if only to distract yourself.

Mahendra shrugged. "Won't believe it until I see it."

You already believed. You had to now. You'd left your old life behind.

Nonetheless, sympathy softened his edges. "Shall we find a seat?" he asked gently.

You nodded, following his lead down the corridor. Most of the older students had taken residence in the compartments, chatting, yelling, eating sweets – something you looked forward to – and scribbling last-minute essays. But the older kids were intimidating and often gave you strange looks as you passed, and Mahendra, not one to rock the boat, didn't bother dipping in to ask.

The first compartment that he paused at was one only occupied by three people, two girls and a boy. Diminutive in height, they had to be about eleven or twelve, first years like you. Their light-hearted expressions dimmed when Mahendra knocked and slid open the door.

"Hello," he greeted. "Are— are you first years, too?"

The first girl, dark hair, clearly some East Asian ancestry, slid her gaze to the other two, before smiling. "Yeah, we are. Don't recognise either of you though."

Did they all know each other? You put on a brave face, peering over Mahendra's shoulder. "Well, it's nice to meet you. We're new!"

"Obviously," said the boy, and something glinted in his eye. "Muggle-borns, are you?"

Born to non-magical parents, Garlick had told you. "Yeah!"

The other girl's brow lowered. "Bet this is all so overwhelming to you."

Mahendra froze, but you were determined. "A little! So it'll be nice to talk to with people who already know all the hoo-ha about magic."

The first girl strode over to them and grasped the door.

"It would be." Her smile turned wicked. "Too bad we don't sit with Mudbloods."

She slammed it shut in your face.

The partition didn't dampen how hard the other two laughed.

Your temper rose at once. How rude! You weren't always perfectly mannered, but you knew never to do that. That would earn you a striking at church, and you were prepared to let her know just how impolite that was before Mahendra yanked your sleeve down the train's corridor.

"Let me go! That was so mean of them! We should set them straight—"

"No!" He grasped your arm tightly. "No, leave it, please. I don't want to make enemies before we've even got to the school."

"But they laughed at us! What did we even do?"

What is a Mudblood?

But he shrugged. "I don't know, but please, I am begging you, don't cause trouble. There must be a better place to sit further down."

There was, as it turned out, another compartment three down, with two redheaded boys. You thought they were related at first, but one's face was round and freckled, boyishly young, whereas the other was stocky and tall. After being mocked so callously before, both your and Mahendra's courage had whittled thin, but when you knocked and timidly asked whether you could share the apartment, the two boys were more than happy to accommodate.

Still, as they introduced themselves as Garreth and Leander, prodded you with questions about the non-magical, Muggle, world, and your unease settled, you thought back to what that girl had said. Mudblood. What was that, and why did everyone keep hissing it like a rude word?

Why did it make you feel so small?

When the Sorting Hat called your name into the silent, anticipatory hall, you squealed.

It was rather embarrassing, really, but the noise had emerged from your throat before you could help yourself, and travelled through the hall like a ripple in a pond. The boy behind you had clapped his hands over his ears, and Mahendra had glared at you, so you muttered a quick apology before scurrying up the dais onto the stool.

Deputy Headmistress Weasley placed the Sorting Hat upon your head, and you squeezed your eyes shut, expecting there to be some kind of pain with an article of clothing rummaging in your thoughts. Some people had been instantly Sorted, the Hat barely grazing their hair before it rang out with a house.

For you, however, it pondered.

"You're quite a spitfire, aren't you?" it mused. "You like to explore, you like to learn, combined with a healthy dose of bravery, yes... that would make you suited to Gryffindor."

Garreth and Leander had been singing Gryffindor praises on the way up. The amazing and brave house, they called it.

"But..."

"But, Mr Hat?"

"You're unfailingly loyal and hardworking, too, and such traits are valued in Hufflepuff."

The nice, boring house. "Oh, well, Leander didn't seem particularly impressed with it," you said timidly, "but your description doesn't make it sound so bad... which one is better?"

"No house is better than the other."

As long as it's not Slytherin, you thought, remembering what Leander had said about them, too. That's the evil house.

You'd forgotten, however, that your thoughts at that moment weren't private.

"Slytherin values ambition and cunning," the Sorting Hat remarked, not unkindly. "It values its own sort of loyalty – to the self and to its own. It values using cleverness to create advantageous situations. There is nothing inherently evil about it. It is all in the application."

"Are you... going to put me in Slytherin, sir?"

It let out a wry laugh. "Slytherin is in your future, that's for certain... but it is not the house for you."

You tilted your head. "What do you mean, Slytherin is in my future?"

"Sit upright, if you please. I don't want to slip off your head."

You corrected your position and glanced at Professor Weasley; her smile was slowly faltering. The Hat was taking longer than most to deliberate – and it was eating at you with worry. Your face, flushing with heat as whispers began to break out.

"Indeed, it is your bravery and loyalty that will see you through your years," the Hat remarked. "Which trait is more important to you?"

"Gosh, that's a really big question, Mr Hat," you mumbled, "Both are good. I can't decide."

"Think on it, if you had to choose."

Fleetingly the thought came – well, bravery was all well and good, as was a love to explore, but what use was that if you didn't stick to your friends and family when the time came? What good was it if you didn't show compassion to others along the way?

"Ah," said the Hat. "I understand now."

Panic struck you. "Oh, but what if I don't fit in?"

"Fitting in is overrated." But before you could retort, it called out, "HUFFLEPUFF!" and you were being ushered down to the yellow house. Briefly your eyes caught Garreth – giving you a thumbs-up – and Leander, shrugging with a sort of sad oh well.

Then you saw Mahendra, and noticed he was nodding his head. He approved of something you did? There sure was a first time for everything.

When the Sorting concluded, Garreth and Leander both went to Gryffindor, and Mahendra Ravenclaw, the swot house – no surprises there, because he was too neurotic for his own good – and the Welcoming Feast appeared on the tables with the wave of Headmaster Black's hand. You certainly felt welcome. You'd never seen so much food in your life, and you lived in a sweet shop! Quickly you filled your plate with everything available – all the meat especially, which you only ever ate on rare days.

"Slow down!" the girl next to you said, laughing. "You'll give yourself a tummy ache!"

She was probably right. Perhaps seven chicken drumsticks was a little too much. Sheepishly you put a few back on the platter.

"I'm Adelaide Oakes," she said. "We're going to be sharing a dorm together."

"Nice to meet you!" you said cheerfully. "I'm—"

"I know who you are." Adelaide giggled. "Can't forget the noise you made when your name was called out!"

"Sorry," you said awkwardly.

"It's all right. My uncle told me during his Sorting one of the boys fainted on the stool, so you're doing better than him."

You spoke to her for the rest of the meal, gleaning little more tidbits about the magical world, and how vast and overwhelming it really was. Maybe the Hat was right, that fitting in was overrated, but you did want to fit in a little. Sometimes she said words you simply didn't understand – words that were utter gibberish – and too timid to ask what she meant, you stuffed more food into your mouth to obscure your ham-fisted responses.

You were surprised someone didn't have to roll you out of the Great Hall when the prefects led everyone to their houses.

The students bottlenecked in the foyer, and though you tried to keep a look out for Adelaide, you lost her amongst the sea of black robes. The seventh years were so tall! How was anyone supposed to see anything? Jostled off your feet, you nearly stumbled into the wall before you swerved into what looked like another queue of first years – the pair of first-year twins were in front of you, whispering to themselves.

When the lines thinned, you rocked on your feet, waiting to go to your dorm.

"You're in the wrong place."

You swung around, almost hitting the boy in the face with your hair. He looked vaguely familiar – a name called out amongst yours during the Sorting, and though you didn't remember what his name was, he was definitely a first year, even though he was at least an inch taller. His wheat-gold hair was loosely combed back, posture straight and chin high, all a match with his high-born accent.

Goodness, you'd never met someone so posh before. Was he the descendent of some totty gentry? Were you supposed to curtsy? Call him milord?

But you merely tilted your head as he stared at the ground beyond you, his eyes like strange, chalky pearls. "Aren't we going to the form rooms?" you squeaked.

His frown tightened. "You're meant to be going to the Hufflepuff common room." He roughly jerked his wand to the clump of students bobbing around on the other side of the foyer, hoods lined in gold. "Your house is over that way."

You took notice of his robes then – green, with the insignia of the snake. Slytherin, the evil house. Or... maybe not so evil? You followed his wand point and spotted a blonde head with the Hufflepuffs. Adelaide.

"Oh!" You let out a sheepish giggle. "Thanks!"

He didn't respond as you walked away, and though it was a simple act to correct your hapless ability to follow directions, you thought perhaps that the Hat had been right, and Leander wrong. He'd been effortlessly aloof, but not mean. If that was indication of Slytherin values, then they seemed perfectly nice. That boy... seemed nice.

You thought your life had already changed, so you didn't know then, of course, that meeting him would change it all again.

As fate would have it, you met him properly the next day, and learnt his name when you were partnered in Charms – Ominis Gaunt, a strange name for a strange boy. Blind, yet able to detect his surroundings as easily as you could. Enigmatic, for despite his bluntness his expressions never gave much away. Pure-blood, though gracious to you and your very obvious working-class, and worse, Muggle, upbringing.

You had a very clear idea of who he was by Herbology, the next class. You'd unfortunately made him late – a poor combination of his lack of sight and your lack of, well, understanding of the magical world. He'd made his disdain known, so you were quite certain this boy would follow rules, finish all his homework on time, never stray too far from the teachers' leash. You were quite certain he was going to be uptight forever.

Your mind changed by the afternoon's History of Magic class.

This was a subject that excited you. The class, for one, would fill in the gaps Muggle history could not explain. Now that you knew magic existed, you had so many questions. Was Jack the Ripper a wizard? Was the Great Fire of London started by a wayward Fire charm? Did the queen know all about this too? The subject was also taught by a ghost, which was the coolest thing ever. A ghost! Yet despite your intrigue in the founders of Hogwarts, Professor Binns could, frankly, put a brick wall to sleep.

He put Ominis to sleep in ten minutes.

You saw him wobble in your periphery, and you slid your gaze over. Eyes shut. Head leant in slender hand. Quill abandoned in the ink well. For someone whose expression seemed permanently stuck somewhere between disregard and a full-on scowl, it was strange to see him at peace, comfortable enough that he could, in fact, doze.

On the first day! The first History of Magic class!

Perhaps you'd tired him out. That was a possibility, given he didn't respond very much to your rapid-fire chatter. Still, you didn't want him to risk getting caught, so when Binns wandered through the desks – literally, through them – towards the stained glass window depicting the founders, you leant over to him.

"Pssst. Ominis."

No response.

"Ominis?"

"Mmm. What?"

"You should pay attention, don't you think?"

"Already know it all."

"About the Hogwarts founders?" You frowned. "How?"

He didn't answer. Maybe it was a magical child thing, to already know about the school. It seemed most of the others in your year had long-since known Hogwarts was part of their destiny, after all. You turned back around, prepared to pay attention again, but Binns was coming your way.

Literally, about to zone through the desk.

Oh no, no, no! He'd see Ominis snoozing! Quickly your hand shot out, punching his arm in warning – but you were too forceful, batting it hard enough that his head slipped out of his grip and banged against the desk.

The room went silent. He drew up slowly, eyes open and furious, as you withheld a strangled gasp.

"Something the matter?" Binns floated to your left. "What was that noise?"

"S-Sorry Professor!" you squealed at once, a lie unspooling. "I, erm... just got so excited, I had to... slap my hand... against the desk!"

"Slap... your hand... against the desk..."

"Don't you do that? You know, Oh, Aston Villa won the Challenge Cup? Hurrah!" You slapped your hand on the desk – and Lord, the pain. When Binns looked at you like you were quite mad, and Ominis grimaced, you quickly added, "It's just, erm, I'm really excited to learn about Saladin—"

"Salazar."

"— Salazar Slytherin, you know?"

There were a snort from behind. Sebastian, who probably saw the whole ordeal.

Binns' expression didn't change. "I'd caution against doing that a third time. A desk is for writing, not for Bludger bat practice."

Whatever the heck that meant. "Yes, sir."

He went back to his lecture, and you dared glance at Ominis. His bottom lip jutted out, and now that Binns was gone he was massaging his forehead.

"You know," he muttered, "a simple he's coming this way would've sufficed."

"I know. I didn't think."

"Obviously."

"Sorry."

"It was only my entire forehead, of which I'm certain won't painfully bruise." You winced, but then he said, with surprising lightness, "Your excuse was dreadful, by the way."

"It worked, so that's all that matters."

"Mind you don't use it again. I doubt it'll work a second time."

You nodded, then cursed yourself – he couldn't see it. "Thank you for giving me the name."

"Don't mention it. Ever." His lips rolled. "And though your method was crude... thank you for helping me escape detention."

You almost wanted to brag to Mahendra, seated somewhere at the back of the classroom. See? I'm not trouble all the time.

You glanced at Ominis, rubbing his forehead.

Only most of it.

Thank you for reading! Please like/ reblog if you enjoyed <3

[read Chapter 2 on AO3, read Chapter 2 on Wattpad] [Divider credit]

#hogwarts legacy #ominis gaunt #hogwarts legacy mc #ominis gaunt x mc #ominis gaunt x reader #sebastian sallow #mahendra pehlwaan #muggle world #hogwarts legacy fanfic #troublesome and unladylike #acvas #gibby #my writing #my stuff

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14muffinz · 1 year ago

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You know those aus? Where the characters are combined or 'fused?'

I've been thinking about that under the circumstances of a tmnt crossover fic. Where this combination is unwilling.

So the way I can see this going means it absolutely has to involve rise, which I also like because it allows for funky designs. Some mission in the hidden city, possibly involving big mama because ✨drama✨, and each boy is fused with their counterpart.

This can be very different depending on the iteration, so I'm just gonna write down vaguely I imagine each one being:

Leo: Slightly obsessive with training. He's passionate, but maybe a bit too much. He's a great strategist, but is unfortunately bad at explaining his plans to his brothers. The more anxious he is, the more talkative he becomes, usually spouting quips to distract himself. Has knowledge with a bunch of different weapons, but prefers the classic katanas.

Raph: Anxiety. This boy is stressed at all times, and the only way he knows how to mask it is by grouching, or hitting things. The people around him are infuriating, especially because they keep asking all these questions. Like, he's just one guy, why can't they get that? Raph carries both his sai and tonfa, but will more often fight with his tonfa.

Donnie: Very smart. Their brain processes information very fast. They like when things make sense. They're also the only fusion aware that they're a fusion, which, like Raph, they are not a big fan of. Their fusion is the least stable, defaulting to we/us and preferring they/them over he/him, though both are acceptable. They don't remember what each button on the tech bo does, but they do have a staff with a taser on each end as a comprimise.

Mikey: Wholsomest boy. The only reason he doesn't know about the fusion stuff is that the Aprils and Caseys don't want to burst his bubble, but they're all pretty sure he could take it. Big fan of art, he loves to cook as well but due to conflicting knowledge they don't do it as much as they would separately. He loves the extra long chain he gets from rise Mikey's kusari-fundo, so he uses that, though similar to the Raph's sometimes they'll carry around nunchaku as well.

~~~

So yeah, the supporting cast were not on this mission and thus were not turned. They received an emergency alert from rise donnie's systems while everybody was being fused, which is the only warning that they got.

It's mostly on Draxum to make a fix, but it's unfortunately not that simple because they're from different dimensions. Casey JR (is it alr if I call him June because I'm gonna fair warning it's instinct) tries to help where he can, but his knowledge is limited. There's a big argument between the Aprils over whether or not informing the Mikeys of the situation and letting them help would speed things up or not.

The issue with telling them, is Raph's very much denying the information. They know about it, but they refuse to listen. The Donnie's took a lot of convincing as well, and the topic clearly causes them a lot of distress, though they refuse to explain exactly why.

That's all I've got for right now. But if anyone wants to help me make this a solid au, please shoot me an ask. Please. I'm begging. I really want to have more to say about this but I need someone to pick my brain.

Tag is forced fusions au!

#rottmnt #tmnt crossover #tmnt au #i'm thinking of 2012 for the other set #but i'm open to it being mutant mayhem #or maybe all three if i feel like it #ima tag both #tmnt 2012 #mutant mayhem #PLEASEPLEASEPLEASE SEND ME ASKS ABOUT THIS #I WANT TO ANSWER THEM #tmnt #forced fusion au #2012 rise fusion

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mysticinsightstarot · 26 days ago

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❄️Winter Aespa Ideal Type ❄️

👉🏻PLEASE CHECK MY WESBITE M IN URGENT NEED OF FUNDS👈🏻

✨ Winter's Ideal Type Tarot Spread 🪄❄️ Hey babes, let's dive into the tea on Winter's ideal type 🧊🪞—straight from the cards! Grab your popcorn because this is chef's kiss perfection. 🍿✨

1. Core Personality (The Magician)

Winter is ALL about someone who’s got that it-factor, okay? 💡🪄 They need a partner who’s creative, resourceful, and knows how to make things happen. Manifestation KING/QUEEN vibes only. ✨ Like, if you can turn ideas into reality? 🔮 You’re already a winner in her book.

2. Emotional Connection (9 of Cups, 10 of Cups, King of Pentacles)

This girl is looking for the whole package, emotionally. 💌

9 of Cups: Someone who’s confident, independent, and fulfilled on their own—she’s not here to fix anyone, babes. 💅

10 of Cups: Family-oriented? Loves their close ones? Check and check. She craves emotional harmony and someone who feels like home. 🏡❤️

King of Pentacles: Financial stability? Yes, please. 🤑 Someone who’s secure, dependable, and grounded in reality is her dream. Think low-key sugar daddy/mama vibes, but in a wholesome way. 🍯💸

3. Physical Attributes (Page of Swords, Knight of Swords)

Winter loves someone who’s got sharp, clean-cut vibes. 🗡️✨

Page of Swords: Youthful energy, curious eyes, and maybe someone with a leaner build. 🧐

Knight of Swords: Athletic or active—basically, someone who’s ready to move at her pace. Fast but not reckless, ya know? ⚡

4. Intellectual Compatibility (King of Swords, 10 of Swords)

This is where things get deep. 🧠

King of Swords: She wants a genius, PERIOD. Someone who’s logical, sharp, and knows their way around a debate. 🧐

10 of Swords: She also vibes with people who’ve been through it—like, someone who’s faced tough times but came out smarter and stronger. 💔📈

5. Shared Values (The Fool)

Winter’s ideal partner is fearless! 🪂 They love adventure, taking risks, and trying new things without hesitation. 🧳✨ Basically, if you’re stuck in your comfort zone, you better RUN because she’s already halfway to her next big idea. 🚀🌍

6. Romantic Style (King of Wands)

Hellooo, passion! 🔥 Winter loves someone who’s confident, bold, and knows how to take the lead in romance. 💃🕺 She needs a partner who inspires her, ignites her spark, and shows love through action, not just words. 💕

7. Turn-Offs (8 of Cups, 7 of Cups)

Winter is NOT about the drama, babes. 🚪👋

8 of Cups: If you’re too emotionally unavailable or always running from your problems, BYE. She’s looking for someone emotionally present. 🌊

7 of Cups: Also, indecisiveness? A major no-no. If you can’t make up your mind, don’t waste her time. 🌀

8. Future Vision (The Hermit, Strength, Lovers, Chariot)

Let’s break this down because WOW. 💎

The Hermit: She dreams of a partner who knows themselves deeply and isn’t afraid to spend time reflecting. 🕯️

Strength: Someone strong-willed and compassionate, who can be her rock in tough times. 💪🦁

The Lovers: She’s in it for a soulmate connection, okay? Deep, passionate love where you just get each other. ❤️

The Chariot: Power couple vibes—moving forward together with a shared purpose. 🏆

Bottom of the Deck: Temperance

The overall vibe here is balance. ⚖️ Winter wants someone who can balance passion with peace, ambition with patience, and adventure with stability. 🧘✨ It’s all about that perfect mix, ya know?

TL;DR: Winter’s Ideal Type List! 📝

Creative, resourceful, and confident (think main character energy).

Emotionally secure and family-oriented.

Sharp, intellectual, and strong-willed.

Adventurous and open to new experiences.

Bold, passionate, and decisive (no indecisive flakes, pls).

A soulmate who balances strength with compassion.

So, are YOU Winter’s ideal type? 👀 Let’s manifest that dream romance for our snow queen! ❄️✨

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btsgotjams27 · 1 year ago

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this is us ~ jjk | 20

✨ title: this is us | (sequel to all grown up) ✨ pairing: jungkook x f!reader | ✨ rating: m/18+ | minors dni ✨ genre/au: drama, romance, angst, fluff, smut | est!relationship, age gap, best friend’s brother ✨ playlist | ✨if you haven’t read the prequel to this, please do so here! :) ✨ a/n: I'm not crying, you are. if you must know, I've been dreading this chapter because it means we're one step closer to the end 😭 but I do have some things up my sleeve hehehehe and you'll find out what it is after the epilogue 💖 we've come so far and thank you everyone for coming alongside their journey. i wouldn't be here without your questions, lovely comments and reviews. i owe so much to all my readers. one last thing, thank you to @erica2283 for helping with this chapter. we all owe her a big hug. ✨ a/n 2: remember, we have our little TIU celebration as well! i hope you'll all be around for it. and as always, i'd love to hear your thoughts, keyboard smashes, anything 💖 hehe we've made it!!

[ SERIES MASTERLIST ] | next ✨ epilogue ~ us

chapter 20 ~ ending credits | wc: 9.2k warnings: language, drinking, someone is preggo (can you guess who?), oc is a supportive girlfriend, jk is such a romantic and oc gets easily embarrassed, references to 10 things i hate about you and inception (ofc), grumpy grandpa yoongi, also yoongi is just the sweetest friend, jk and yoongi finally meet, do i hear some kind of bells???, jk and oc are so in love it’s satisfying to see after all this time (we’ve come so far!), and also lots of fluff cause hello there is a 💍💒⚭🎉, be prepared for all the cheesy, romantic shi--💖, they're overly gross with their use of pet names smut warnings: slight exhibitionism?, oral (m & f receiving), fingering, spitting, cum swallowing

~ 2 months since moving in together ~

Light sounds of piano and saxophone filled the air as you had been laying on this bed for an hour, moaning and groaning, and not because of Jeon Jungkook.

Your masseuse was hitting all the right spots, getting every knot and kink in your wound-up body, and for that, you'd blame your boyfie.

Hyunie and Yuna wanted a girl's day without husbands, boyfriends, kids, or distractions. And who would say no to that?

"I don't know why we don't treat ourselves out more often," you said, turning to Yuna as she sipped her wine.

"It's been too long since we've all had a self-care day," Hyunie commented. You and Yuna agreed. "Oh my gosh! Your nails are perfect!" She pointed out your neutral beige nails topped off with lavender French tips and tiny jewels perfectly placed on each nail.

You wavered your fingers, letting your new manicure sparkle and glisten in the sunlight. Pastels and neutrals were your go-to. You were too much of a chicken to step out of your comfort zone.

“I think we need to do this once a month,” Yuna said, staring at her nails, which reminded you of Tiffany’s robin-egg blue.

“You both deserve it, mamas.”

Hyunie giggled, placing a hand on her growing belly. She was still in the early stages of pregnancy. At the start of this self-care day, she texted a sonogram photo to you as you were undressing for your massage. You screamed and started crying, practically scaring your masseuse.

“What are you and Jungkook up to this weekend?” Yuna asked before swirling the pasta with her fork.

“He wants to go to this gaming convention or something. It’s being held at this big arena.” You didn’t know anything about video games. You searched the internet to see what they even did at gaming conventions.

“Boring!” Hyunie cried out.

You rubbed your temple. “He wants to go, so I’ll go to support him.”

“You’re gonna be such a good wife—” Hyunie remarked before Yuna kicked her under the table. “Ow,” she muttered. “I mean, you’re such a good sport! Supporting your man like that.”

You blinked at your friends, wondering what was up with them today. You gave them the bombastic side-eye as they were pretty giggly and tightlipped.

Hyunie laughed off her comment, trying to play it cool. “Don’t mind me and my pregnancy brain. Also, remind me to kick my husband’s butt for knocking me up! I mean, there are some nice benefits.” She looks down at her chest. “But everything hurts already.”

“Welcome to the pregnant life, my friend,” Yuna jokes.

You chuckled. “I can’t believe Kim Taehyung is gonna be a dad.”

“Right? No, but I think he will be a good dad.” Hyunie hummed softly, rubbing her belly.

“He’ll be great, and I’m sure he can always ask Namjoon questions,” you said.

“Namjoon still doesn’t know what he’s doing half the time–actually, both of us,” Yuna laughed. “But that’s just parenting 101. There’s no guidebook or anything; you just google everything and hope your kid doesn’t turn out to be a turd.”

“Yuna—” You rolled your eyes.

“What? I’m not saying Indie will be, but I just want my kid to be a good human.”

“Well, you’re doing a great job raising your little human,” you say to Yuna, then turn to Hyunie. “You and Taehyung are going to do great, too. You have us if you need anything.”

You gripped Jungkook’s hand as he led you through the sea of people. The commotion of excited fans buzzed in the arena. Booth after booth of fan-made merch, the newest games, and sponsored goods were lined up like a maze. Your eyes wandered, scanning to see if anything interesting caught your eye.

Jungkook was in deep conversation with an old colleague from Netmarble, who was working on a new game set to be released. Your lips turned into a pout, and you turned around to see what could keep you busy as you let Jungkook do his thing.

“So, you’re telling me that this virtual reality game is like Inception? The movie?” You narrowed your eyes at the young man trying to sell you on this new game. Anything could be turned into a game, you supposed.

“The possibilities are endless,” he shrugged, continuing to go in-depth with this game.

You had been in conversation with this young man for twenty minutes and turned to find your boyfriend had disappeared. You sighed, “Great.” How were you supposed to find him now?

Checking your phone, which only had 5% left, you knew you should’ve grabbed the portable charger. Maybe you could somehow find Jungkook in this sea of fanboys.

A sudden screeching, humming noise made everyone grimace, covering their ears. The sound of someone thumping a microphone, followed by an ‘ah, ah, ah,’ went through the speakers.

“Everyone, we have an extraordinary presentation today. Would you please turn your attention to the screen?”

The lights dimmed, the crowd quieted, and everyone’s eyes were focused on the illuminated screen.

“You’re just too good to be true, can’t take my eyes off of you.”

You froze, your heart thumping, and your stomach fluttered at the angelic voice. Hearing the song made you weak in the knees, wanting to crumble down to the ground. This scene from 10 Things I Hate About You was your second favorite to Kat’s monologue.

Jungkook is shown on the screen. He has a mic in hand and a grin plastered on his face. He’s putting everything into this little performance like it’s one of his late-night karaoke sessions, except this time, he was performing in front of thousands of people and a live broadcast instead of just you and Bamie.

“You’d be like heaven to touch, I wanna hold you so much.”

The screen splits in half, and now your face is also shown in front of thousands of people; then you notice the space around you, along with the camera pointed directly at you.

You didn’t think Jeon Jungkook was one for grand gestures, but maybe you were wrong. Suppressing your smile, you closed your eyes and hid your face in your hands.

He continued singing, making his way over to you. The grin he’s sporting never leaves as he finally stands before you.

All eyes are on you and him.

You leaned forward and whispered, “What are you doing?”

Jungkook sets the mic beside you, and the music dies down. He wiggled his eyebrows, pulling out a blue velvet box.

He got down on one knee, staring up at you. “It is an honor and a privilege to love you, and I want to love you every day till I die. I can't promise there won't be difficult moments, but I wouldn't want to go through life with anybody except you.”

You sucked in your lips and licked them to keep your excitement at bay.

“If you allow me to, I want to choose you every second, every minute, and every hour. I’ll show you what devotion is and how it’s deeper than the ocean.”

Your eyes twinkled as you lovingly stared at your romantic boyfriend. “Yes–” you interrupted him, furiously nodding your head.

He knitted his eyebrows and pouted. “You didn’t let me finish.”

“Don’t need you to–”

He opened his mouth and closed it again. “Just–let me ask you,” he whined.

You huffed, giving him a deadpan expression. You figured he would only get to do this once in a lifetime. Maybe you shouldn’t take away his thunder.

Jungkook took the oval Alexandrite ring from its box. He rose to his feet. “Will you marry me?”

At this moment, you needed someone to pinch you and wake you up from this dream. Could this be a virtual reality like the Inception game from earlier? Would your totem fall over or keep spinning?

“Yes, yes, a thousand times yes!” You cupped his face, eagerly kissing him, forgetting about the thousands of people watching you.

His bunny smile and dimple are on display for the world to see, and his starry eyes shined brighter than the gem on your finger. It’s the happiest you’ve ever seen him.

Cheers and screams echoed throughout the arena as you kissed him again. Your lips entwined, his hands threaded through your hair, pulling you as close as he could. The smell of his cherry chapstick filled your nostrils, becoming intoxicating.

Jungkook pulled away, peppering kisses on your face as you let out soft chuckles. “I can’t wait to spend forever with you.”

The first person you texted was none other than Min Yoongi. Since Hyunie and Yuna were in on the whole ‘pamper/self-care day,’ they already knew what was happening. Hence the secrecy throughout the day.

You 10:27 PM [ image attached of engagement ring ]

Grumpy Grandpa 10:30 PM 👍

You 10:31 PM That’s it? All I get is a thumbs up.

He knew how much you despised the thumbs-up emoji, but he told you it was the highest compliment anyone could ever get from him.

Grumpy Grandpa 10:35 PM 🎉

You 10:36 PM 😑

Grumpy Grandpa 10:40 PM Okay fine. 👍👍👍👍👍👍 Happy?

You 10:41 PM 😐 I guess

You 10:45 PM Anyway, will you come to our engagement party?

Grumpy Grandpa 10:50 PM You’re already getting married. Why spend more money on an engagement party?

You huffed and clenched your jaw as you sat in bed, staring at his message.

You 10:52 PM Because we’re in love and need to celebrate it a million times over and over until everyone is sick of us. 🥰💖🥰💖🥰💖

Grumpy Grandpa 10:54 PM I think I'd rather die a slow death…

You didn’t bother to text anything back. Instead, you tucked your phone underneath your pillow as Jungkook crawled into bed. You inched toward him, your back against his chest. He draped his arm around you, kissing your head.

“Hi, soon-to-be-wifey,” he chuckled, pressing himself into you.

“Hi, soon-to-be-hubby.” You wiggled back toward him.

“Who were you texting?”

“I was texting Yoongi to see if he’d come to our engagement party.”

“What’d he say?”

“That he’d rather die a slow death.”

Jungkook laughed, kissing your shoulder. “Oof–I like him.”

You turned around to face Jungkook. “You’d be okay, right? If Yoongi came to our party?”

His lips thinned, and his brows drew together. “Yeah, of course. He’s your friend. If you want him there, then I want him there.”

You hummed. “I love you.”

“Love you more.”

If there was one person you wanted Jungkook to meet, it was Yoongi. Honestly, you’d miss the banter and bickering relationship between you. But maybe Yoongi would be willing to accept Jungkook and possibly become friends. One could hope, right?

You 9:01 AM I don’t know if you planned to come, but we had to cancel the engagement party.

Grumpy Grandpa 9:15 AM Damn, he doesn’t wanna marry you already? I get it, though. I wouldn’t wanna marry you either.

You 9:16 AM 👊👊 Min Yoongi, I’m gonna pummel you!

You 9:17 AM If you must know, the place we wanted was overbooked, so we’re gonna cancel and save money for the wedding.

You don’t hear from Yoongi for another hour or so. He must be busy with an upcoming film or something.

Grumpy Grandpa 10:02 AM Don’t say I’ve never done anything for you.

You 10:36 AM 🤨

Grumpy Grandpa 10:55 AM My friend has a place you can use for your engagement party if you want.

You 10:56 AM You don't have to do that.

Grumpy Grandpa 10:57 AM The offer is expiring in 3…..2….

You 10:57 AM Ok! Ok! Where's the place?

Strolling through the home, you wonder what you did in your past life to have a friend like Min Yoongi. You crept through every corner of the house but couldn’t find him.

There was one last place you hadn’t checked: the terrace. Making your way through the kitchen, you saw him standing outside. The view was incredible, overlooking the ocean. This place was a few ways away but worth the drive.

The corners of your lips curved into a smile as you closed the sliding door behind you. You observed the grumpy grandpa in a fuzzy yellow cardigan looking at the scenery before you.

“Hey.” You stood, nudging his arm.

He turned and hummed, acknowledging your presence.

“Thanks for letting us use this place. It’s amazing. Better than anything I imagined.”

“It’s my friend’s place,” he quickly corrected you, sipping his iced coffee.

You leaned against the glass, looking at him, nudging him again. “Can you just accept my gratitude?” you pouted, sporting your best puppy eyes.

“Fine. You’re welcome.”

You giggled because you got your way. “Come on, I want you to meet Jungkook.”

He grunted, not moving an inch.

Tugging on his yellow sweater a few times made him give in. “Let’s go, grumpy.”

Jungkook and Taehyung were busy bringing decor and food in, and Yoongi had somehow disappeared from the terrace to the kitchen. You blame being the bride-to-be because everyone needs your input on where to place everything.

“You okay?” Jungkook asked, scanning your face.

You hummed, nodding your head, and broke out into a warm smile. “I’m good. Better than good, great actually.”

He raised his eyebrow, sporting a thin smile. “Okay,” his tone is hesitant, but he trusts you. “I’m gonna help Taehyung finish bringing everything in; then we can start the party, hmm?” He kissed your cheek before running off.

An arm wrapped around your shoulder, pulling you in for a hug. You turned to see a friend from your most recent TV show.

“Hi, Minji.”

She squealed, pulling you into a tighter embrace. “I can’t believe you’re getting married!”

You beamed a grin from ear to ear, enjoying the buzzing excitement. You watched as Yoongi appeared from one of the bedrooms, strolling toward the terrace again. You’d have to grab him to introduce him and Jungkook when you could.

“Let me see the ring,” Minji said, holding her hand for yours. “Oh my god. This is such a pretty gemstone. Does it change colors?” The ring sparkled and gleamed with every twist and turn.

“Sometimes it can be a deep green to blue, sometimes even purple or a deep red depending on the lighting and angle,” you explained. It was one of the reasons why you preferred this stone over a diamond.

When you were looking through rings, you told Jungkook that if your wedding/engagement ring didn’t look like he went through a crazy journey and a cursed lake to get it, then you didn’t want it. It is a bit dramatic, but you wanted your ring to be special and unique.

“It’s so pretty and, honestly, so perfect for you.” She hugged you again. “When’s the wedding?”

“Soon—in a month or so.”

Minji’s eyes widened.

“Yeah—don’t ask me how wedding planning is going,” you let out a light-hearted laugh.

You and Jungkook didn’t see the point in waiting. You loved each other and couldn’t wait to spend the rest of your lives together. Plus, neither of you wanted a big wedding. You just wanted to celebrate with family and friends.

Throughout the night’s festivities, Yoongi opted for something stronger, a classic glass of whiskey, to be exact. He sipped on the drink with a hand in his pocket, watching the sky become painted with hues of coral and lavender. This was one of his favorite spots in this house.

“Hey, man.”

Yoongi turned to see the groom-to-be. He nodded, sporting a thin smile, before taking another sip of his whiskey.

“I’m Jungkook, by the way. I’ve heard a lot about you,” he said, holding his hand.

Yoongi suppressed a smile. He thought it was funny how you’d spoken about him to your soon-to-be husband. “So, you’re the famous Jungkook, hm?” Yoongi switched the glass to his other hand to shake Jungkook’s.

He shies away from Yoongi’s comment. “Ah, I hope she didn’t bore you too much talking about me.”

Yoongi softly chuckled and wanted to respond but held his tongue. He’d be a good friend and keep your pain a secret.

Jungkook cleared his throat. “But I just wanted to say thank you.”

“For?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Letting us use this place. It means a lot to the both of us,” Jungkook paused, stuffing his hands in his pants pocket as he looked off into the horizon. “And thank you for being there for her in a way I couldn’t.”

He knew how important Yoongi had become in your journey when you and him weren’t together. And if Yoongi weren’t there to support you, maybe you and him wouldn’t be together right now. He wished there was a better way to show his gratitude.

“I didn't really do anything. I just listened to her ramble, watched her cry, eat, and drink a lot.”

Jungkook softly chuckled. “You did more for her than you think. Thanks again.” He held his hand out for Yoongi to shake once more. Yoongi stared for a moment before reciprocating.

Yoongi couldn't hate the guy you were about to marry despite the pain Jungkook had caused you. He was nice, handsome, and had a stupid death grip. Could probably beat him up. He even surprised Yoongi by taking the initiative to introduce himself first. Well, if that wasn’t the mark of a man who truly loved you.

He watched Jungkook walk over to you, hugging you from behind and kissing your shoulder. You wrapped your arm up to his neck, turning to kiss his cheek. You were happy, and that’s all Yoongi wanted for you.

The guests begin to dwindle, and you have some room to breathe. And you make it a point to talk to Yoongi before you leave. You felt like you hardly saw him the entire night. He was doing his own thing. Was he always like this in a social setting? You guessed you hadn’t seen him much outside of hanging out with Hyunie and Taehyung.

“Are you ready to go?”Jungkook asked.

“You go ahead. I’m just going to find Yoongi and thank him again. Is that okay?”

He nods. “Yeah, of course. I’ll be in the car.” He kisses you before leaving.

You wandered throughout the house, peering through each room. Yoongi was sitting in a darkened room, sipping on what you assumed was another glass of whiskey.

Standing in the threshold, you knock on the frame, getting his attention. “Hey, stranger. You’re not much of a party-goer, are you?” You chuckled, taking a few steps forward.

Both hands are holding his glass while he’s leaning forward in his chair. “Are you guys heading out?”

“Yeah, just packing everything up.”

He hummed. “Have a good night.”

You don’t move from your spot. Your hands are entwined, thumbs twiddling with one another.

Yoongi knits his eyebrows. “Everything okay?”

You flash a small smile. “Thanks for letting us use your place tonight.” Yoongi perked up. “You know how I knew?” You pointed at the cat figurines on the bookshelves and the desk. “You had the same ones in Phuket.”

He made a disgruntled noise, scanning the room at his little porcelain collectibles.

You chuckled. “You don’t have to lie to me, Yoongi, saying it was someone else’s place, but thank you again. You’re a good friend.”

Yoongi has always been the supportive one. He was there for you when you were at your lowest of lows, and you’d be forever grateful. And even if he would never outright announce to the world all the things he’s done, he cared for you in such a delicate, subtle way that was completely different from everyone else.

“You ready to go home?” Jungkook brought your palm up to his lips, pressing a kiss against it.

You hummed and smiled. “Home. I like the sound of that.”

~ one month later ~ ~ a week before the wedding ~

Bam sat at your feet while you were finalizing the seating chart. Jungkook passed out on the couch, lightly snoring away. He had been staying late because of all the late-night karaoke and cooking sessions.

You 11:56 AM Hey, I’m going through RSVPs, and I haven’t gotten yours. Can you let me know if you’re coming to the wedding?

You don’t hear a response from Yoongi for the rest of the day until a phone call comes in after dinner.

Grumpy Grandpa Incoming Call

“Hey.”

Hey, sorry, I just saw your text. My new film is shooting the next day after your wedding, so I might have to leave early depending on what flight I can book. But yeah, count me in.

“Okay, awesome. Are you bringing a plus one?”

He scoffed. “Yeah, no.”

“Okay, I’ll sit next to Taehyung and Hyunie so you won’t feel lonely or awkward.”

“‘Kay, sounds good. I’ll see you then.”

Jungkook walked in with Bam after their nightly stroll around the neighborhood as you checked off that Yoongi was coming on your planning app.

Bam wandered over to the pen, drinking water from his bowl, and Jungkook greeted you with a kiss.

“Whatcha doing?” He plopped right beside you, laying his head on your lap.

You card your fingers through his hair, lightly scratching his scalp. “I was just talking to Yoongi. He was confirming that he’s coming to the wedding.”

“He’s a cool guy. I like him.”

Flashing a small smile, you continued running your fingers through his hair. “Yeah, he is.”

“He didn’t say much when we were at his place, but he just seems like the type of guy who quietly cares for his friends.”

You chuckled because that encompassed everything Min Yoongi was as a friend.

“He seems very open-minded and knowledgeable, probably about the most random things.”

“Have you been studying him or something?” you asked, continuing to play with his hair.

“No, I just—want him to like me.”

You chuckled at his comment. “You’re cute.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes, pinching your arm. He sat up, shoulder to shoulder with you, nudging you.

“Yes?”

“I know we said we wouldn’t get any gifts for each other, but I couldn’t resist.”

You turn to him, narrowing your eyes. “Kook—”

“I know!” He lowers his head. “So, do you want it now or later?”

You closed your eyes, holding out your hands.

“Okay, okay! Hold on!”

Jungkook sprinted toward the bedroom, holding a box when he returned. Bam was passed out on his blanket, not caring what his parents were up to.

He placed the box in your hands. “Open your eyes.”

You peek with one eye, and it’s a beautifully wrapped gift. It reminded you of the one that Hyunie wrapped your boudoir album in. Jungkook watches as you shake it from side to side.

“I’ll just—leave you alone.”

You purse your lips, raising an eyebrow at your soon-to-be-husband. He kisses you before leaving you alone with the gift.

You undo the twine and carefully remove the kraft paper. Lifting the top cover, there’s a photo album identical to the boudoir one you have.

Did Jeon Jungkook take risque photos for you?

Carefully, you take the album out, moving the box beside you. Your fingers ghost over the front cover before having the courage to open it.

The noise you made awoken Bam, but he ignored you and went back to sleep. You raced to the bedroom, shutting the door behind you.

“What is this?” you questioned, blinking at Jungkook. You held the album open to him, dressed in a tight white tee and leather pants. He looked like a 90s heartthrob, and you were scared to look through the rest, but you may have seen him shirtless in a blazer and jeans.

“You don’t like your present?”

You shook your head. “No, I didn’t say that.”

Jungkook giggled. He propped his arms on the bed, legs spread, a cocky smirk on display.

“Are you trying to seduce me?”

He showed off his pearly whites and wiggled his eyebrows. “Is it working?”

You wandered over between his legs and nodded. “Yes.”

You wondered how it was your wedding, and you were still running around like a chicken with its head cut off. Hyunie and Yuna helped when they could, and you even recruited Minji to be your day-of coordinator so that you wouldn’t have to make all these decisions on your wedding day.

But after a hectic day, you were glad to finally rest and lay your head on the comfy pillow and fluffy duvet. The bed you laid in bore too many memories of you and Jungkook—the two of you getting high, being horny as fuck, and him getting it in the wrong hole. This cabin held many fun memories, and you were excited to add more.

You tugged on the string lamp, turning off the light. Digging deeper into the bed and pillow, you breathed a sigh of relief, ready to go to dreamland.

Just as you were drifting off, a buzzing from your phone awakened you, and when you lifted it to see who it could be—it was none other than your soon-to-be-husband.

You answered the video call but didn’t care to turn on the lights because he broke the rules you had placed for the wedding.

“Kook, what are you doing? You’re not supposed to be calling.”

He’s not wearing a shirt through the screen as the fluffy, white duvet covers him. “Says who?” His elbow props up his head while he’s staring at you.

“Says tradition.”

“Who cares about tradition—Come on, baby,” he pouts, causing a frown and puppy eyes.

“I’ll see you tomorrow. It’s just for one night.”

“Let me talk to my girlfriend before she becomes my wife,” he pouted.

You chuckled. “It’s just a title.”

Jungkook’s offended and scoffs. “Oh, it’s so much more than just a title.”

“You’re going to call me your wife instead of your girlfriend. No big deal.”

“It’s a big deal, alright! I’m honored to be your husband.”

You rolled over on your stomach, propping the phone against the pillow. “Okay, hubby,” you cleared your throat. “Everyone—this is my husband.” You giggled. “You’re right. It has a nice ring to it.”

“See! What did I tell you?”

The both of you quiet down.

“We’ve come a long way, hmm?”

“Yeah, and you’re worth every single step.”

Rolling onto your back, you pick up the phone, then dramatically fan yourself. “Kook, save some words for your vows tomorrow.”

“I have a never-ending list of things I could say.”

“Are you just a boy filled with pure fluff and love?”

He shies away, covering his face with the duvet. “Why, yes, I am.”

You chuckled, furrowing your head further into your pillow. “It’s late, and we have an early day tomorrow. We’re getting married, remember?”

“How could I forget? I can’t wait to see you tomorrow.”

“Goodnight, hubby.”

“Night, wifey.”

The hustle of decorating the cabin was finished the night before, and with Minji, Jimin, and his girlfriend’s help, everything was coming together. The only thing you had on your agenda today was getting married to the love of your life.

Your hair and makeup were in full swing as your makeup artist put the finishing touches on lipstick. You didn’t want anything too glam. Simple and minimal was your mantra for this joyous occasion.

Soft clicks from a camera could be heard from behind as Yuna helped tie your silk top. You and Jungkook opted to capture the wedding on film and digital. It would give it a nice touch of vintage vibes.

Hyunie whistled as she got a close-up of Yuna tying your top. “Wait until Jungkook sees you in this!”

“Stop–it’s just a dress.”

Hyunie shook her head no. “It’s not just any dress. It’s your wedding dress. Trust me. It hits differently.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “And it’s a two-piece, so whenever you wear these pieces separately, you’ll always have some wedding feels.”

You looked at yourself in the mirror, smoothing your silk skirt with the thigh-high slit. You wanted to be practical with your wedding dress. You didn’t want it wasting away in the back of the closet, never to be worn again, so you opted for classic pieces that you can wear again.

Yuna sets the veil’s comb into your hair, letting the tulle drape down. She stood beside you, tilting her head with a smile beaming from ear to ear. She took your hand, making you look at her. “Hey, sis.”

“God—Yuna. Don’t make me cry right now! We just finished my makeup.” The back of your neck began to warm up, and you could feel the tears forming behind your eyes. You fanned yourself, hoping it would stop them from falling.

“I can’t believe this day is finally here.” She dabbed the corner of her eyes, gently wiping away her mascara. “Okay—I need to go check on Indie. Make sure she’s all set. I’ll see you two later.” Yuna tightly embraced you before leaving.

Hyunie takes your hand. “Are you ready, my beautiful bride?”

You faced outward to the breathtaking landscape. The sun is shining, warming up your exposed skin. Closing your eyes, you inhale a deep breath, not taking this moment for granted. You want to savor it, keep it locked up to revisit.

Unbeknownst to you, Jungkook had been watching you from afar, enjoying this moment. Like you, he wishes he could put the world on pause so it could just be the two of you—a point in time where nothing else mattered but you and him.

Jungkook takes his time and chuckles when he sees you tired of standing, waiting for him.

He approaches, wrapping his arms around your waist, removing your veil to kiss your shoulder. He whispers a ‘hi,’ rocking you from side to side.

You leaned back, pressing into him. “Hi,” you repeat as Jungkook kisses your temple.

His kiss sends chills throughout your body. You close your eyes again, and your relationship with Jungkook flashes before you. An overwhelming sensation overtakes every fiber of your being. Your home wasn’t just four walls and a fridge. Instead, it was four limbs and lips to kiss. Jungkook was your home.

“Can we just stay like this for a little while?” He squeezed you tighter. “Before all the chaos?”

You giggled and hummed, turning around to kiss him. “I love you so much.”

It felt like an eternity to finally be standing before him, but the two of you made it–nothing was standing in your way, save for Namjoon, who was performing the ceremony.

Everyone had their turn down the aisle: Yuna walking with Jimin and Taehyung, and even Bam and Indie made the crowd laugh as the flower girl and ring bearer. Bam kept trying to eat the petals as Indie threw them. Yuna had to entice Indie with chocolates as she stood at the end of the aisle.

You were patiently waiting inside, your arm linked with Jin.

“This is your last chance to run,” he teases as you nudge your hip into his.

“I didn’t go through hell and back not to marry Jeon Jungkook.”

Jin chuckles. “Well, come on. Your groom is waiting.”

youtube

The acoustic guitar starts playing, ‘Everything’ by Kina Grannis through the speakers. Everyone turns toward you, watching as you descend the aisle with Jin. Camera clicks are heard in front of you as Hyunie snaps away.

You’re donning a silk two-piece, an open-back top with a tie, and a skirt with a thigh-high split. You opted for a dried flower bouquet of lavender and baby’s breath, and Jungkook had a matching boutonniere.

Your eyes focus on none other than Jungkook. He looks dashing in his classic suit. His soft curls frame his pretty face, and his hands are folded as he patiently waits for you. The corner of his mouth curved up into a grin. He shyly looks to the ground before flicking back up, dimple and bunny smile on display.

When you reach the end, Jin hugs you and whispers, ‘Go get ‘em, tiger.’ You chuckle and turn to Yuna, handing her your bouquet. Jungkook takes your hands, and you stand facing each other in front of Namjoon.

It’s like you have tunnel vision; no one else matters but you and him. You can see Jungkook’s eyes glistening as Namjoon continues his wedding script. Jungkook squeezed your hand a few times before you realized Namjoon was talking to you.

All eyes were on the two of you, ready to exchange vows.

You turn to Yuna to retrieve the vows you had prepared. “I was not expecting you. I was not even looking, but somehow, you came to me as if you knew what I needed. I used to believe that finding someone who would love me would be difficult. I know I’m not the easiest person to love. I’m an over-thinker and don’t convey my wants and needs well, but I’ve found someone who thinks they can take on the challenge.”

There’s light laughter among the guests. Jungkook grins, looking at the ground before flicking back to you.

“There may be times when I’m insecure and spiral into the abyss, but if you’re by my side, I know you’ll always be in my corner, fighting with me and helping me every step of the way.”

You paused and flashed a soft smile, trying to hide your tears. “Jeon Jungkook, you are my dream come true, my world, the joy in my heart. Thank you for loving and accepting me for who I am, my flaws and all.”

You stopped again to dab the tears falling from the corner of your eyes. “And I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life falling in love with you over and over again.”

A stillness remains after you finish your vows. Your eyes quickly glance at the crowd. There are smiles and tears of joy among them.

Namjoon takes the microphone from you, handing it over to Jungkook. He sniffles before clearing his throat and grabbing a piece of paper from his jacket pocket.

He unfolds it in his hands, and you can’t help but notice a slight tremble. “It’s easy for me to love you, which scares me. I’ve never wanted anything so much as I want to hold you every waking minute and every night while I sleep. The question I used to ask myself was ‘How do I love you?’ and now it has become ‘How do I ever stop?’”

“I’ll choose you again and again from start to finish. I’ll choose you when my heart is full, and I’ll choose you even when the days are hard. Maybe I’ve already loved you in a million different ways and through different timelines, but I’m so glad that we’re here now, and I get to love you in this lifetime.”

“There are no more what ifs, what could have been. It’s just you and me saying yes to each other forever. We deserve our happy ending.”

Jungkook looks up to see you holding a tissue, patting your cheeks from the tears. He sees past you and Yuna, also in tears. He lightly chuckles to himself.

The two of you have gone through enough, and Jungkook was right. You didn’t have to live with the what-ifs and the what could have been. This timeline brought you back to him. You could think of many things that could’ve happened—you not taking that meeting in LA, being unable to pick yourself back up, you and Jungkook not breaking up and trying to make it work. But ultimately, you knew you needed to grow, mature, and figure things out before you could be standing here today saying, ‘I do.’

Namjoon proceeds through the rest of his ceremony script by exchanging the rings and, finally, the last thing on the agenda.

“Jungkook, you may kiss the bride,” Namjoon announces.

Jungkook takes a few steps forward, cupping your face and staring into your eyes. “Finally.” He leans forward, closing his eyes. His lips find yours like a magnet.

Cheers from family and friends are boisterous, along with the music that cues up as the two of you are ready to walk down the aisle.

You stand with Jungkook hand in hand. He looks over to you and kisses you again. He lifts your arm, shaking it, yelling a ‘yes’ as the crowd cheers again.

Minji ushered you and Jungkook to a private bedroom, telling the two of you to eat before the reception festivities. But, of course, Jungkook had other plans.

He locked the door and eagerly pressed you against the wall, making you yelp. “Five minutes, that’s all I need.”

“You’re pretty confident, hmm?”

"I can't let this moment go to waste."

"Kook," you whine into his mouth. "Someone's gonna come looking for us."

"Good. I'll tell them we're coming," he grins before kissing you again.

Your hands are flushed against his chest as he trails kisses along your jawline and neck. His hand on the small of your back, pressing you into his growing bulge.

Your fingers tug on his jacket lapels. You're tempted to take off his blazer, but you're in the middle of your wedding celebration. You couldn't get carried away.

He kisses back up your neck, finding your lips again. Shifting your skirt to the side, his hand finds warmth between your legs. He palms against your clit, rubbing circles. He catches your moans with his kisses.

"We can't be so loud, baby."

You unbuckle his belt and pop the button on his dress pants, undoing his zipper. You cup your hand around his hard, clothed erection, stroking him. He gently grabs your hand, making you withdraw from him.

"You first."

He moves your panties to the side, his finger sliding between your folds, spreading your arousal.

"Are you ready for me?"

You loll your head back, jaw slack, making some kind of noise in agreement. He inserts a finger, his palm pressed on your clit again. He starts pumping in and out before adding a second finger. Your walls clench around him when he speeds up.

He squeezes your breast, then pinches your nipple. You're already crumbling, and it's been mere minutes, but your desire for him started long before this.

Jungkook drops to his knees. He gathers your skirt for you to hold. He pulls down your panties, making you step out of them. He flings it off to the side before relishing in you again. He attaches his mouth to your clit, licking and sucking, tugging your legs closer to him. He hurries down further, trying to get to your entrance.

Your hands thread through his hair as he reinserts his fingers. He looks up at you, eyebrows knitted, a stray hair falling as you bite down on your lip, holding in whimpers. Saliva is running down his chin as he continues lapping, trying his best to consume all of you. He pulls away, kissing your clit, nudging his nose into it. At the same time, he's curling his fingers, hitting the sweet spot. He lifts your leg onto his shoulder so he can get better access. He kisses your thigh before attaching his lips to clit again.

You're aching for a sweet release. Your heart is racing, and the fear of someone coming to look for you heightens, and you start rolling your hips, desperate to reach your climax.

"Mm, right here, Kook. Just like that."

His eyes meet yours, and he smiles, knowing he could make you cum quickly. He continues lapping and flicking, finger fucking you. The sensation is too much to handle, and you need to stabilize yourself. He sets your leg down, and his hand grabs the flesh of your ass.

Your skin heats up, hands curl tighter into his hair, the building pleasure causes your legs to shake, and your thighs are closing in on Jungkook. You're biting down on your lip, holding back the moan, desperately trying to escape. You're losing all composure when the tension finally snaps, and you reach your release.

He doesn't let go when you cum. He continues to overstimulate you until you have to push him away. You lean down to kiss him, your slick lingers all over him, and you have to clean him up before he goes back out.

"Fuck–you're so sexy," he says between kisses.

"Your turn."

Jungkook hums. "I'm not gonna last long."

"Then it'll be just like our first time again," you tease, remembering when you sucked him off on your couch.

"Baby–do you have to bring that up right now?"

You giggled and let go of your skirt, reaching to put your panties back on. You nodded, smirking at him. "You can never last long when you’re excited."

"Baby," he whines, letting out a huff.

You kiss him. "I love making you feel that way."

You play with the elastic on his underwear, tugging them down. Jungkook watches as you grin and grip his cock. It involuntarily twitches in your grasp. You have no time to waste. People are waiting for you both.

Kneeling before him, you wrap your hand around his shaft, pumping and twisting his length. Your thumb rubs the pre-cum dripping from him, and then he lets out a sharp hiss when you flick your tongue at his tip. Spitting on his cock, you spread your saliva up and down his shaft with both hands, stroking him.

You peer up at him, and his eyes never leave yours. He’s captivated by this pretty view. You take him in your mouth, swirling your tongue, moaning against him. Laying your tongue flat, it runs along the underside of his cock, following the prominent vein. Your lips are slick and swollen, trying to take more of him in.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” Jungkook bites his lip, gently thrusting forward.

Your lips part around his cock, only taking in the head. Your hand wraps the rest of his shaft, stroking him, and your free hand gently plays with his balls.

A breath is hitched in Jungkook’s throat, his eyes half-lidded, almost rolling back when you take him in inch by inch until your nose is pushed into him.

There’s a knock on the door, and someone tries to open it. “Hey, are you guys almost finished eating?” Minji asked through the door.

The two of you look toward the door. You’re busy gagging on Jungkook’s dick, and he answers, “We’ll be right there.”

You return to sucking and stroking, more frantic than before.

“Fuck,” Jungkook curses a few more times, bucking into you. He cups your face, making you look at him. “Where do you want me to come?”

You quickly pop off, “Mouth.”

He visibly gulps, his cheeks burning at the thought of you swallowing his cum during your wedding. The muscles in his abdomen tighten, the building pleasure ready to explode. Lightning ripples through him, sending shockwaves throughout his body as he finally cums in your mouth. Jungkook groans when you continue to milk him for all he’s worth. The sweat forming on his head trickles down his face.

You wipe off the trailing saliva and swallow his cum. As you fix your skirt and top, Jungkook stuffs himself back in his underwear and pants. The two of you look at each other, smiling like idiots.

“I can’t believe we just did that,” you said, inching closer to kiss him.

Jungkook smirked, wrapping his arms around you. “I can.”

You cleared your throat. “We should scarf down our food and return to our wedding, hmm?”

Wedding festivities were in full swing—smiles, laughter, and chattering filled the outdoor patio. Delicious food in your bellies and mixed drinks coursing through your veins.

Jin walked to the area where the band was playing, his fingers tinkering on the glass to get everyone’s attention.

“Why, hello, beautiful people—and by beautiful people, I mean me.”

You and Jungkook make a face at each other.

“I’m kidding! Everyone here is dressed to impress, and ladies, if any of you is single, come find me afterward.” He looks at Jungkook, and he’s glaring back at his friend.

Jin clears his throat, “Anyway, I’ve seen the highs and lows of your relationship, and I’m honored to be standing here, witnessing how love can withstand so much as long as two people continue to fight for and fiercely love one another. I promise I’ll always be there to support the two of you as best as possible. And remember me when you need a god-parent for your kids.”

You and Jungkook look at each other, shaking your head.

Jin holds up his glass, proposing a toast. “To the bride and groom, may you continue to show us what true love is.”

Everyone raises their glasses, saying “Cheers,” clinking their glasses with one another at their tables.

Yuna stands, walks to Jin, and retrieves the microphone from him. “Hello, everyone. I’m Yuna, the bride's best friend and the groom's big sister. I’m sure some of you are wondering if I was okay with their relationship, and at first, it came as a shock, but as their relationship progressed, I realized how pure their love was for each other. They’ve even taught me a thing or two about love, and if you’ve seen them from the start until now, you’ll see how far they’ve come, and I can’t wait to see what their future holds. I love you both so much.”

Jungkook nudges you, handing you another tissue. Even though this relationship was hard for Yuna to accept, you’re glad she never gave up on you, on Jungkook. If she never trusted the two of you and cheered you on, it would’ve been another relationship you’d have to grieve. But you’re so glad it worked out.

Jin returns, speaking into the mic, “Now—there’s been enough crying for the night. It’s time for the first dance of the bride and groom.

Jungkook stands, holding out his hand for you. He leads you to the dance floor; you let the train of your skirt drape behind you. The piano intro of the chosen song comes on. His hand sits on the small of your back, pressing you closer to him, his other hand holding yours. You press your cheek against his, close your eyes, and breathe everything in—you and him now.

You love holding his hand. The softness of his fingers electrifies every nerve in your body. You love listening to him breathe; it’s a calm reminder for you to slow things down. You love the warmth radiating off his body and onto yours. You love looking into his starry doe eyes and feeling like everything will be okay.

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Entwined, all that we are is defined By each others shipwrecked hearts and I Shiver to think what would have been if I wouldn’t have seen you in time Would we pass by?

“I love you,” Jungkook whispers, kissing your cheek.

A warm smile eases onto your face. “How long will you keep telling me that, hmm?”

He gazes into your eyes. “Forever and ever.”

You giggle. “I like the sound of that.”

Like parachutes and air balloons Or satellites and lonely moons We’d still be drifting far apart But thank the stars we are entwined

The two of you continue to sway to the song until it ends, and the next song comes on, and you just know that Kim Taehyung requested it. The full-on blaring horns and cymbal percussion filled the speakers on blast.

Yes (whoo, ow) It's so crazy right now Most incredibly, it's ya girl, B (yes) It's ya boy, Young You ready?

And the first person on the dance floor, dragging Park Jimin to the floor? None other than Kim Taehyung.

You and Jungkook look at each other, bursting out into laughter. He had pre-gamed before the wedding even started.

“You wanna sit this one out?” Jungkook asked, raising his eyebrows, and you nodded, letting the rest of the crowd have a turn enjoying the reception.

You’re mingling through the tables and greeting friends. Jungkook has Indie in his arms; she’s giggling and squealing at the top of her lungs as she twirls around, and Bam circles and barks at the two. You love watching Jungkook with Indie, and it makes you wonder if you’ll get to have that with Jungkook one day. You’re hopeful and believing for the best.

Namjoon, Jin, Taehyung, and Jimin all take turns whisking you away from your mingling to dance with you. Throughout the night, you’ve been preoccupied with guests, and then you see the one person who hadn’t greeted you and Jungkook yet.

You walk over to Min Yoongi, who’s in a black suit and tucked in a white tee. This is the most you’ve ever seen him dressed up. He’s kept his hair long but put in some effort to style it.

Like clockwork, there’s a glass of alcohol in his hands. He’s looking elsewhere when he notices you. He’s focused on your eyes; then you see him explore your face and flash a gentle smile.

You hold out your hand. “May I have this dance?”

“I don’t dance,” he grumbles.

“Oh, you’re such a liar! I’ve seen you dance.”

“Yeah—when I’m drunk and I’m not drunk enough yet,” he whines.

“Come on. It’s my wedding day. You can’t say no to me.”

He blinks. “No.”

You roll your eyes and drag him by the hand. He leaves his glass on the table, fumbling after you.

“Just one dance, and then you’ll be a free man.”

Yoongi groans as he stands before you. Your hands are on his shoulders, and his hands are on your waist, and you’re both at a respectable distance from one another.

“See, it’s not that bad, is it?”

“It’s horrible actually. Think I’m allergic to dancing,” he teases.

“Shut up, stupid.”

“You shut up,” he spits back.

“You can’t tell me to shut up. I’m the bride.”

“Have you been using that excuse all day?” He narrows his eyes at you.

You show off a cheeky smile. “Yep!”

Yoongi shakes his head, and he beams his gummy-toothed smile.

“Did I get a smile out of Min Yoongi?” You gasp dramatically.

“Consider it your wedding gift.”

You roll your eyes again, and you smack him on the shoulder.

“Yah—” he frowns. “I was going to give you your actual wedding gift, but I’m taking it back now.”

“What?” Your eyes widen. “No, no, no! What is it?”

Yoongi steps back, reaching for something in his pocket. He pulls out a small rectangular box and hands it to you.

The music continues as you flip open the box, and in it, you see a silver titanium spinning top and a silver bishop chess piece, but just like in the movie, it’s hollowed out.

“There’s debate on Cobb’s totem being his ring, but considering you and Jungkook have wedding rings, it seems redundant.”

You chuckled to yourself at the gift. Only Yoongi would get you something like this. “What does it mean?”

Yoongi looks around, and your eyes follow him. His gaze returns to you, along with a soft smile. “This—you and Jungkook—it’s not a dream. It’s real.”

You turn away from him, your heart aching gravely, your eyes glistening from the silly but not-so-silly gift.

“Are you,” Yoongi pauses, “crying?”

You tut, still turned away, quickly wiping your tears. “No, I’m not crying.”

He tilts his head, waiting for you to turn to him. “Hey, what do I always say?”

“It’s okay to cry, just don’t cry alone,” you say monotonously.

He laughs. “Well, at least you remember something I’ve told you.”

You looked at him, your eyebrows knitted. “I listen,” you retort.

The song ends, and the DJ lets guests know only a few songs are left.

“Well, I have to head out. Early roll call tomorrow—you know the drill,” Yoongi says, stuffing his hands into his pants pocket.

You nod. “Thanks for coming. You don’t know how much it meant to me.”

“I wish you and Jungkook all the best,” he flashes a thin smile, and then he pulls you in for a hug, his cheek pressed against yours.

The unexpected display of affection catches you off guard. He’s not known to express affection, but you soften, giving into his embrace.

Yoongi withdraws from the hug, locking eyes with Jungkook as he waits for the two of you to finish. Yoongi gives a small smile, as does Jungkook.

“I’ll see you when I see you?”

The corner of your eyes crinkle as you smile, bidding him farewell.

Jungkook wraps his arms around you from behind, inhaling your scent. “Ready to go home?”

You hummed, nuzzling into him. “Let’s go home, hubby.”

A deep groan escaped your lips when you rolled onto your side, but Jungkook blocked the way, and you couldn’t move further. Your body ached in every nook and cranny. Jungkook did not go easy on you last night.

You sat up with weary eyes, staring at your husband, who was sound asleep, snoring away as if you had nothing to do today, but that was far from the case.

The two of you were setting off to the Maldives later tonight. Jin had taken Bam home after the wedding to dog sit while the two of you are off on your honeymoon.

You shoved Jungkook a few times, and his only response was grunts. “Kook, we need to get up,” you whined, kicking him a few times.

“Mm? Kook is not my name,” he said in a muffled tone as he faced you.

You huffed, clenching your jaw. “Husband, hubby, the love of my life.”

His eyes are closed, and he beams from ear to ear. “Yes, wifey?” He peeked an eye open before shifting into an upright position beside you. He opened his arm up for you to cuddle right in.

You shake your head at your silly husband, kissing his chest. He’s never going to grow old of you calling him that, is he?

“I love you.”

He giggled. “Is that it?”

You hummed.

“I love you more.”

Throughout your wedding day, you couldn't help but think of your relationship with Jungkook. You never expected to fall in love with your best friend's younger brother. You were on the rebound; he had just moved back from LA. It seemed like a lifetime ago that the two of you were sneaking around, getting caught by Yuna. It's strange how life works, how everyone gathers at life events, and this time, instead of a family reunion—like the one where you saw Jungkook again—everyone gathered for a more cheerful occasion, celebrating the two of you.

Chapter One of your life was never-ending, full of life and love. It was messy and complicated, but you felt like it was finally coming to a close, and Chapter Two would be the beginning of something much more beautiful for you and Jungkook.