#six of crowns header

[onlymingyus]

Hallmark Moment: Daddy's Day

pairing; kim mingyu x f reader

genre; fluff, slightly suggestive

warnings; dad!mingyu, mom!reader, kids, mention of reader's mom, slightly suggestive conversation at the end, pregnancy

w/c; 1.7k and some change 

requested; no

hallmark moment ONE (fluff) & TWO (fluff/smut)

a/n; this is probably the last of the hallmark moment series. i just needed to write something sweet and happy. i wasn't planning on posting anything or writing anything but i needed it. i hope you enjoy it. the header was clearly the inspiration, but the cake of course has nothing to do with the story so just work with me here.

A small, exaggerated gasp escapes the young girl’s lips as she rolls over the couch with a toy foam sword in hand. Amy laughs as she bounces off the cushion finding it only slightly difficult to get to her feet so she can point her sword in the direction of where she and Mina had deemed the evil wizard was. 

“Back, back I say! You’ll never take our daddy from us.” 

Mingyu grins to himself, reaching up to adjust the plastic crown that Mina had placed there a few minutes before. The ring on his pinky just barely fit on his finger to his first knuckle but it seemed to make both his daughters happy. He had let them put on both earrings and the necklace without any sighs of a fuss.

Days like this were Mingyu’s favorites. It had been just over six months since the adoptions had been finalized making Mina his, and Amy yours. Days like these reminded him how important that had been to you both when you had spoken your wedding vows not only to each other but to each of the girls just over a year ago. 

With a laugh, Mingyu reaches out to catch Mina when she steps back stumbling over the rug in her valiant battle with the unseen wizard. The small girl grins from ear to ear, melting his heart as he helps her back to her feet so she can continue her task. 

Instead of a sword, Mina had chosen to brandish the magic wand that had come in the princess dress-up package that Mingyu was now wearing most of. With a flick of her wrist, Mina points with the silver and blue wand dramatically. 

“Your magic is no match for mine. I’m the best, right Daddy?” 

Soft, beautiful eyes that were the same shade as yours look to Mingyu for validation. There was no way he couldn’t respond properly. 

“Oh, absolutely sweetheart. You are the best I have ever seen with magic.” 

Amy giggles at her dad’s words, her sword slicing through the air with more flex than necessary. The sword was showing its age but she didn’t seem to mind, just simply enjoying her time playing. 

“And what about me?” 

Mingyu smiles brightly matching Amy’s smile. Shaking his head, Mingyu takes in a deep breath extending his arms out towards the girls with the same dramatic acting they had been using the entire afternoon. 

“I’ve never felt safer knowing you and your sword is in front of me Knight Amy of the House of Kim.” 

With seemingly renewed confidence both girls charge at the imaginary evil wizard as Mingyu watches with amusement in his eyes. It’s only when the girls cheer at their own victory does he join in clutching at his chest at how they had saved him and his kingdom. 

“I knew I could count on my brave protectors. Once again my kingdom is safe.” 

Mingyu laughs when both girls run over to him to pounce on him smothering him with hugs. His arms wrap around them letting them curl into his form so they can already begin to gossip amongst themselves about how well they did. Taking the wand from Mina’s hand, Mingyu sits it on the couch behind him only to do the same with the foam sword. 

Moving into the living room as silently as possible, you can’t help but smile at the sight in front of you. Your eyes move with the movement of Mingyu’s fingers pushing through both of the girl’s hair as they babble excitedly about some kingdom, wizards, and a princess. With your hand resting on your lower back you move into the room catching Mingyu’s attention first granting yourself his bright smile. 

“Hey, beautiful.” 

At his words, both of your daughters spring into action clambering from your husband’s side to move to hug you as best they can. Your own smile seems to warm the room making Mingyu take in a deeper breath as if he could inhale the happiness and keep it forever. Neither of you would get tired of his, seeing each other with the girls, seeing them happy like this. 

“Hi, Mommy!” 

“Mommy, oh my gosh. We saved Daddy from a wizard. We saved the entire kingdom!” 

Your sweet laugh causes Mingyu’s smile to move toward his eyes. You were so attentive, he watches as Amy and Mina lead you to the armchair helping you to sit down so they can start to recount the entire story. How Princess Daddy was trapped in his tower by the evil wizard and Knight Amy and Sorcerer Mina found him and took care of the evil. 

Glancing at Mingyu, you simply bite at your lips giving him a good once over with his crown, Mina’s wand now between his fingers as he lets his hand hang over his knee. He was the best father for your children that you could have ever asked for. The thought of him like this was enough to make you feel warm and for your heart to beat faster. 

“I am so glad you saved Princess Daddy. I love him very much and would have been so very sad if something had happened to him, but look how lucky I am that I have you two to keep him safe even when I am away. I love you both.” 

You watch as both girls seem to swell with pride at your words feeling like they are on top of the world at making you happy and keeping the house safe while you had your evening away from the house. Leaning to press a kiss to each of their cheeks you laugh against Mina’s skin when you hear her try to hide a yawn. 

“Being a hero is very hard work. I think it’s time for bed.” 

Mingyu watches you for a moment, your hand moving to the arm of your chair as you start to try to stand only for him to move more quickly.

“Please, let me put my brave heroes to bed tonight. Say goodnight to Mommy.” 

Letting out a relieved breath you smile up at Mingyu who winks at you before you have both girls draped over you. Your arms wrapped around them you give them more kisses whispering how much you love them and for them to sleep well. 

Mingyu glances back at you mouthing that he will be back soon, his hands gently guiding both girls toward their room and finally into their beds. Leaning down over Mina’s bed, Mingyu presses a kiss to her forehead making her smile. 

“Goodnight sweetheart. I love you.” 

Mina wiggles further down into her covers, her small hand reaching up to caress her dad’s cheek making the man lean into the gentle touch. It still amazed Mingyu how much someone so small could make him melt so easily. 

Reaching up, Mingyu removes the crown from his head placing it on top of the girl’s head smiling at the sound of her laugh. Moving his eyes and then his feet towards the other twin bed, Mingyu takes Amy’s hand into his own lifting it to his lips to press a kiss to each small finger before grinning at hearing another sweet laugh. 

“I love you, Daddy. I’m really glad we saved you.” 

And I love you too. You can save me anytime, but you know I’d do the same for you, right?” 

Amy smiles tiredly, her eyes beginning to close as she nods causing Mingyu to laugh softly. Slipping the ring from his pinky he puts it onto her index finger before leaning to press a kiss to his daughter’s cheek. His words whispered against her skin making her smile as she drifts off to sleep. 

“Goodnight, angel.” 

Mingyu only lingers in the room for a moment, his eyes moving from one bed to the other. He wanted to make sure both of his daughters were safe and comfortable. Soft happy sighs and snores told him that they were and that it was okay for him to pull the door shut and return to you. 

Seeing you still sitting in the chair, your left hand moving slowly over the swell of your stomach causes Mingyu to stop in the archway. He wished he had his camera handy. He wanted to capture little moments like this forever. 

Swallowing hard, Mingyu takes a step causing the floorboards the creak drawing your attention and making you smile when you see him reaching up to take off the last of the jewelry the girls had placed on him earlier. He only stops long enough to drop them onto the couch before moving next to you leaning down to press a soft lingering kiss to your soft lips that seem to make you lose your breath. 

“I missed you, but I hope you had a good evening with your mom. You deserved a break, baby.” 

His words were spoken against your lips, making you smile once again. Your fingernails gently scratch over the nightly stubble at his jaw causing Mingyu to grunt as he pulls away to look at you. Moving to stand in front of you, Mingyu lowers himself to sit on his heels so he is more level with your still-growing belly as your eyes move over his face. 

“I missed you too, and the girls. I’m glad you had fun with them, but I did need it.” 

The last of your words come out as a small laugh when you feel Mingyu’s hand run over your stomach, tickling you even slightly. A small whispered apology slips from his lips before your husband leans to kiss your stomach and rest his chin against it lightly to look up at you. 

Your fingers run through his hair gently, you tilt your head to look at him lovingly. You loved moments like this. You loved how much he clearly loved you and your family. How much, Mingyu loved the little boy the two of you had made together now growing inside of you. Shaking your head, you smile running your fingers along the side of Mingyu’s face and feeling him lean into your touch before he speaks. 

“Let me run you bath?” 

Nodding, you bite your bottom lip as Mingyu turns his head to press a kiss to your palm. 

“Only if you join me.” 

Mingyu smiles against your hand before nodding in agreement. 

“I’d love to, beautiful.” 

please note that I am doing my best to tag -- tags are now down in reblogs -- all of you who have filled out the tag list form but tumblr won’t let me tag some of you. I think that is because either you have tags turned off or possibly a blank tumblr page. consider reblogging some of the fics you like from me or other writers. ♥

© onlymingyus - all rights reserved. Reposting/modifying of any fic, or pieces of original writings posted on this blog is not allowed. Translations not allowed. 

[nabitule]

SHE WAS MADE OF ANGEL DUST ˒ 𝐢. general summary

LABITULE , also known as nabi in short / hangul form , is a six member fictional girl group under jyp entertainment & kalon records . under the partnership of the two labels , the group currently consists of yoonah , minali , gaon , lilith , hiraya & serein .

best known for their intentional experimentation with their concept , LABITULE is the latter company's pride and largest money-maker . ever since their debut , the members have expanded their presence beyond the music scene .

although , note that this is merely a burning speculation , irony can be found in the group's name and the treatment given to them .

AND I WAS CARVED FROM WAX ˒ 𝐢𝐢. mini dossier

GROUP NAME  :  labitule ❪ kr : 나비 ❫

LABEL(S)  :  kalon records & jyp entertainment

DEBUT DATE  :  july 23 , 2016

DEBUT ALBUM  :  pretty pity

DEBUT SONG  :  eung eung

GREETING  :  “ and the dreams are still dreaming — hello , we are labitule ! ”

CONCEPT  :  dolls whose styles are played around with

FANDOM NAME  :  nallumes

FANDOM COLORS  :  red lipsticks ❪ e76a5c ❫ , crowns ❪ 884d68 ❫ & impurities ❪ 35477c ❫

WE FOUND OUR PURPOSE IN EACH OTHER ˒ 𝐢𝐢𝐢. the members

yoon  ‘  YOONAH  ’  miyoung  (  1997  )

ahn  MINALI  (  1997  )

baek GAON  (  1998  )

celine  ‘  LILITH  ’  park  (  2000  )

caroline  ‘  HIRAYA  ’  cuevas  (  2000  )

yang  ‘  SEREIN  ’  sujeong  (  2001  )

WAS THE PRETTIEST LIE EVER TOLD ˒ 𝐢𝐯. discography

pretty pity  ˳  eung eung  :  debut single album ❪ 2016 ❫

tip-a-tap  ˳  bloom!  :  mini album ❪ 2016 ❫

palettised  ˳  salty & sweet  :  single album ❪ 2016 ❫

time loop  ˳  one more time  :  japanese debut single ❪ 2017 ❫

rose our glasses  ˳  la vie en rose  :  full album ❪ 2018 ❫

her echo  ˳  sacrifice  :  mini album ❪ 2018 ❫

black dress  ˳  black dress  :  single album ❪ 2019 ❫

labitule  ˳  tag! you're it  :  full album ❪ 2022 ❫

IB … @glasshcvse & @stcpidcupid ( header's from jessource ) !

[istumpysk]

Operation Stumpy Re-Read

ADWD: The Discarded Knight (Barristan II) [Chapter 59]

And the award for biggest piss baby chapter header goes to ...

All kneel for His Magnificence Hizdahr zo Loraq, Fourteenth of That Noble Name, King of Meereen, Scion of Ghis, Octarch of the Old Empire, Master of the Skahazadhan, Consort to Dragons and Blood of the Harpy," roared the herald. 

Damn, his silly titles are way cooler.

Step it up, Daenerys.

+.+.+

Ser Barristan Selmy slipped a hand beneath the fold of his cloak and loosened his sword in its scabbard. No blades were allowed in the presence of the king save those of his protectors. It seemed as though he still counted amongst that number despite his dismissal. No one had tried to take his sword, at least.

In case you missed the last chapter, Barristan hates Hizdahr zo Loraq and refuses to acknowledge him as his king, but he's also offended Hizdahr isn't using him as a personal guard.

Barristan Selmy, ladies and gentlemen.

+.+.+

Daenerys Targaryen had preferred to hold court from a bench of polished ebony

Sorry, quick clarification -

He's referring to those rare times when she actually held court.

+.+.+

Daenerys Targaryen had preferred to hold court from a bench of polished ebony, smooth and simple, covered with the cushions that Ser Barristan had found to make her more comfortable. King Hizdahr had replaced the bench with two imposing thrones of gilded wood, their tall backs carved into the shape of dragons. The king seated himself in the right-hand throne with a golden crown upon his head and a jeweled sceptre in one pale hand. The second throne remained vacant.

The important throne, thought Ser Barristan. No dragon chair can replace a dragon no matter how elaborately it's carved.

Love when people look for any reason to be upset. Dragon thrones seem like a pretty clear indicator of who's in charge.

Pretty sure Hizdahr would love for Daenerys to be sitting in that seat right now, Barry.

+.+.+

The day was young and fresh, and yet he felt bone-tired, as if he'd fought all night. The older he got, the less sleep Ser Barristan seemed to need. As a squire he could sleep ten hours a night and still be yawning when he stumbled out onto the practice yard. At three-and-sixty he found that five hours a night was more than enough.

Makes sense, the effects of sleep deprivation on cognitive ability are well-documented.

+.+.+

On a bedside table he kept a beeswax candle and a small carving of the Warrior. Though he was not a pious man, the carving made him feel less alone here in this queer alien city, and it was to that he had turned in the black watches of night. Shield me from these doubts that gnaw at me, he had prayed, and give me the strength to do what is right. But neither prayer nor dawn had brought him certainty.

If you're plagued by uncertainty and doubt, maybe sit this one out.

+.+.+

In the Shavepate's place stood a fat man in a muscled breastplate and lion's mask, his heavy legs poking out beneath a skirt of leather straps: Marghaz zo Loraq, the king's cousin, new commander of the Brazen Beasts. Selmy had already formed a healthy contempt for the man. He had known his sort in King's Landing—fawning to his superiors, harsh to his inferiors, as blind as he was boastful and too proud by half.

You've got to be fucking kidding me.

LMAO.

+.+.+

Skahaz could be in the hall as well, Selmy realized, that ugly face of his concealed behind a mask. Two score Brazen Beasts stood between the pillars, torchlight shining off the polished brass of their masks. The Shavepate could be any one of them.

How many times will George allude to this?

+.+.+

One woman began to wail about a brother who had died at Daznak's Pit, another of the damage to her palanquin. A fat man tore off his bandages to show the court his burned arm, where the flesh was still raw and oozing. And when a man in a blue-and-gold tokar began to speak of Harghaz the Hero, a freedman behind him shoved him to the floor. It took six Brazen Beasts to pull them apart and drag them from the hall.

It's not every day a freedman gets painted in a bad light.

+.+.+

Fox, hawk, seal, locust, lion, toad. Selmy wondered if the masks had meaning to the men who wore them.

That depends, is it a cat mask? A rat? A wolf? That would have meaning.

+.+.+

Did the same men wear the same masks every day, or did they choose new faces every morning?

She changes it every few weeks.

+.+.+

"Is it true?" a freedwoman shouted. "Is our mother dead?"

"No, no, no," Reznak screeched. "Queen Daenerys will return to Meereen in her own time in all her might and majesty. Until such time, His Worship King Hizdahr shall—"

"He is no king of mine," a freedman yelled.

Men began to shove at one another. "The queen is not dead," the seneschal proclaimed. "Her bloodriders have been dispatched across the Skahazadhan to find Her Grace and return her to her loving lord and loyal subjects. Each has ten picked riders, and each man has three swift horses, so they may travel fast and far. Queen Daenerys shall be found."

[...]

Ser Barristan let Reznak's oily words wash over him. His years in the Kingsguard had taught him the trick of listening without hearing, especially useful when the speaker was intent on proving that words were truly wind. 

What the hell? What did he even do? He said nothing wrong!

#JusticeForReznak

His years in the Kingsguard had taught him the trick of listening without hearing

Boy, you aren't kidding.

+.+.+

Prince Quentyn was listening intently, at least. That one is his father's son. Short and stocky, plain-faced, he seemed a decent lad, sober, sensible, dutiful … but not the sort to make a young girl's heart beat faster. And Daenerys Targaryen, whatever else she might be, was still a young girl, as she herself would claim when it pleased her to play the innocent. Like all good queens she put her people first—else she would never have wed Hizdahr zo Loraq—but the girl in her still yearned for poetry, passion, and laughter. She wants fire, and Dorne sent her mud.

It's hysterical how little credit he's giving Daenerys here. The people come first, unless it's a hot boy.

And Daenerys Targaryen, whatever else she might be, was still a young girl, as she herself would claim when it pleased her to play the innocent.

Glad he's picked up on that. Not that it will change anything.

+.+.+

You could make a poultice out of mud to cool a fever. You could plant seeds in mud and grow a crop to feed your children. Mud would nourish you, where fire would only consume you, but fools and children and young girls would choose fire every time.

In her case, literally.

The flames writhed before her like the women who had danced at her wedding, whirling and singing and spinning their yellow and orange and crimson veils, fearsome to behold, yet lovely, so lovely, alive with heat. Dany opened her arms to them, her skin flushed and glowing. This is a wedding, too, she thought. - Daenerys X, AGOT

Daenerys plants no seeds in mud.

+.+.+

Behind the prince, Ser Gerris Drinkwater was whispering something to Yronwood. Ser Gerris was all his prince was not: tall and lean and comely, with a swordsman's grace and a courtier's wit. Selmy did not doubt that many a Dornish maiden had run her fingers through that sun-streaked hair and kissed that teasing smile off his lips. If this one had been the prince, things might have gone elsewise, he could not help but think … but there was something a bit too pleasant about Drinkwater for his taste. False coin, the old knight thought. He had known such men before.

Gerris is confident, I don't remember him being false. Does something come of this?

Again, this could not be more insulting to Daenerys. I love it.

+.+.+

Whatever he was whispering must have been amusing, for his big bald friend gave a sudden snort of laughter, loud enough so that the king himself turned his head toward the Dornishmen. When he saw the prince, Hizdahr zo Loraq frowned.

Ser Barristan did not like that frown. And when the king beckoned his cousin Marghaz closer, leaned down, and whispered in his ear, he liked that even less.

Providing context for later.

+.+.+

Martell was dancing in a vipers' nest, and he did not even see the snakes. His continued presence, even after Daenerys had given herself to another before the eyes of gods and men, would provoke any husband, and Quentyn no longer had the queen to shield him from Hizdahr's wroth. 

I'm going to agree with Barry on this one. There's no reason for Quentyn to still be hanging around, and pursuing Daenerys. It's disrespectful to say the least.

With that being said, I've yet to see any evidence of Hizdahr being a wrathful man.

+.+.+

Although …

The thought hit him like a slap across the face. Quentyn had grown up amongst the courts of Dorne. Plots and poisons were no strangers to him. Nor was Prince Lewyn his only uncle. He is kin to the Red Viper. Daenerys had taken another for her consort, but if Hizdahr died, she would be free to wed again. Could the Shavepate have been wrong? Who can say that the locusts were meant for Daenerys? It was the king's own box. What if he was meant to be the victim all along? Hizdahr's death would have smashed the fragile peace. The Sons of the Harpy would have resumed their murders, the Yunkishmen their war. Daenerys might have had no better choice than Quentyn and his marriage pact.

And they say Victarion is the dumbest point of view character. Quentyn doesn't have a single friend in Meereen, how could he achieve any of this?

Anyway, he did manage to consider a strong possibility: Hizdahr was the Shavepate's target.

Hizdahr's death would have smashed the fragile peace. The Sons of the Harpy would have resumed their murders, the Yunkishmen their war.

Great point, Barry.

Quick question, what happens if he's arrested?

+.+.+

The Yunkishmen had come. Three Wise Masters led the procession from the Yellow City, each with his own armed retinue. One slaver wore a tokar of maroon silk fringed with gold, one a striped tokar of teal and orange, the third an ornate breastplate inlaid with erotic scenes done in jet and jade and mother-of-pearl. The sellsword captain Bloodbeard accompanied them with a leathern sack slung across one massive shoulder and a look of mirth and murder on his face.

No Tattered Prince, Selmy noted. No Brown Ben Plumm. Ser Barristan eyed Bloodbeard coolly. Give me half a reason to dance with you, and we will see who is laughing at the end.

Reznak mo Reznak wormed his way forward. "Wise Masters, you honor us. His Radiance King Hizdahr bids welcome to his friends from Yunkai. We understand—"

+.+.+

"Understand this." Bloodbeard pulled a severed head from his sack and flung it at the seneschal.

[...]

Gingerly, so gingerly, the seneschal approached the head, lifted it delicately by the hair. "Admiral Groleo."

I'm sorry, can we take a second to go over this man's story?

Captain Groleo is tasked with bringing Daenerys back to Pentos.

Instead, she renames all his ships to Targaryen dragons, and commands him to take her to Slaver's Bay, so she may buy a slave army.

Daenerys realizes she can't take Meereen without siege engines. She orders his ships destroyed for wood.

Groleo is then named admiral by Daenerys, but doesn't actually have a fleet, making it an empty title.

After the peace deal, he's handed over to the Yunkish commanders as a hostage.

Finally, he's beheaded because of Drogon.

Wow.

+.+.+

Ser Barristan glanced toward the throne. He had served so many kings, he could not help but imagine how they might have reacted to this provocation. Aerys would have flinched away in horror, likely cutting himself on the barbs of the Iron Throne, then shrieked at his swordsmen to cut the Yunkishmen to pieces. Robert would have shouted for his hammer to repay Bloodbeard in kind. Even Jaehaerys, reckoned weak by many, would have ordered the arrest of Bloodbeard and the Yunkish slavers.

If that's what two Targs and Robert Baratheon would have done, then surely there's a better option.

Can you see Bran doing any of the above? Keep in mind the Jaehaerys option instantly triggers war.

+.+.+

Hizdahr sat frozen, a man transfixed. Reznak set the head on a satin pillow at the king's feet, then scampered away, his mouth twisted up in a moue of distaste. Ser Barristan could smell the seneschal's heavy floral perfume from several yards away.

You're not fooling anyone, George.

Can't wait for the honourable Barristan Selmy to be happily standing next to Daenerys when she kills this poor man.

+.+.+

"This," King Hizdahr said at last, "this is not … we are not pleased, this … what is the meaning of this … this …"

Use your big boy king words, please.

+.+.+

The slaver in the maroon tokar produced a parchment. "I have the honor to bear this message from the council of masters." He unrolled the scroll. "It is here written, 'Seven entered Meereen to sign the peace accords and witness the celebratory games at the Pit of Daznak. As surety for their safety, seven hostages were tendered us. The Yellow City mourns its noble son Yurkhaz zo Yunzak, who perished cruelly whilst a guest of Meereen. Blood must pay for blood.'"

Groleo had a wife back in Pentos. Children, grandchildren. Why him, of all the hostages? Jhogo, Hero, and Daario Naharis all commanded fighting men, but Groleo had been an admiral without a fleet. Did they draw straws, or did they think Groleo the least valuable to us, the least likely to provoke reprisal? the knight asked himself … but it was easier to pose that question than to answer it. I have no skill at unraveling such knots.

I'm inclined to believe this. I can't find the quotes now, but it's been made clear Yunkai has no desire to test the dragons, regardless of all their threats of war.

I have no skill at unraveling such knots.

We can tell.

+.+.+

"Your Grace," Ser Barristan called out. "If it please you to recall, the noble Yurkhaz died by happenstance. He stumbled on the steps as he tried to flee the dragon and was crushed beneath the feet of his own slaves and companions. That, or his heart burst in terror. He was old."

Fair point.

Edit: I didn’t even notice he said grace again. Twat.

Thank you, @kadarakey!

+.+.+

Hizdahr zo Loraq could not seem to look away from the head. Only when Reznak whispered something in his ear did he finally bestir himself. 

Is the newly developed sadist getting off on it or something?

+.+.+

"Yurkhaz zo Yunzak was your supreme commander," he said. "Which of you speaks for Yunkai now?"

"All of us," said the rabbit. "The council of masters."

King Hizdahr found some steel. "Then all of you bear the responsibility for this breach of our peace."

The Yunkishman in the breastplate gave answer. "Our peace has not been breached. Blood pays for blood, a life for a life. To show our good faith, we return three of your hostages." The iron ranks behind him parted. Three Meereenese were ushered forward, clutching at their tokars—two women and a man.

"Sister," said Hizdahr zo Loraq, stiffly. "Cousins."

Without more information, it's hard to say why they've chosen to return Hizdahr's family. Maybe they're avoiding further provocation. Maybe they're buying him off. Maybe they'd like him to look terrible. Maybe the author is baiting the reader, and making it seem like Hizdahr's in on the plot.

+.+.+

Reznak mo Reznak cleared his throat noisily. "Meaning no offense, yet it seems to me that Her Worship Queen Daenerys gave you … ah … seven hostages. The other three …"

"The others shall remain our guests," announced the Yunkish lord in the breastplate, "until the dragons have been destroyed."

Reznak's even speaking up for the other hostages!

+.+.+

A hush fell across the hall. Then came the murmurs and the mutters, whispered curses, whispered prayers, the hornets stirring in their hive. "The dragons …" said King Hizdahr.

"… are monsters, as all men saw in Daznak's Pit. No true peace is possible whilst they live."

Accurate.

+.+.+

Reznak replied. "Her Magnificence Queen Daenerys is Mother of Dragons. Only she can—"

Reznak, who rightfully hates the dragons, is objecting to them being killed without Daenerys agreeing.

#JusticeForReznak

#JusticeForReznak

#JusticeForReznak

+.+.+

Hizdahr zo Loraq rose slowly from his dragon throne. "I must consult my council. This court is done."

I'm okay with this decision.

+.+.+

"Prince Quentyn," Selmy called. "Might I beg a word?"

Quentyn Martell turned. "Ser Barristan. Of course. My chambers are one level down."

No. "It is not my place to counsel you, Prince Quentyn … but if I were you, I would not return to my chambers. You and your friends should go down the steps and leave."

[...]

"Swords can be replaced," said Ser Barristan. "I can provide you with coin enough for passage back to Dorne. Prince Quentyn, the king made note of you today. He frowned."

This is a -little- dramatic.

We've gone from Barristan believing Hizdahr is weak to Barristan believing Hizdahr is plotting to kill Quentyn in roughly 10 seconds.

+.+.+

Gerris Drinkwater laughed. "Should we be frightened of Hizdahr zo Loraq? You saw him just now. He quailed before the Yunkishmen. They sent him a head, and he did nothing."

Quentyn Martell nodded in agreement. "A prince does well to think before he acts. This king … I do not know what to think of him. The queen warned me against him as well, true, but …"

That can't possibly be the son of Doran Martell saying this.

Hizdahr elected to do exactly what Doran Martell would have done. Think it over.

+.+.+

"She warned you?" Selmy frowned. "Why are you still here?"

Prince Quentyn flushed. "The marriage pact—"

I feel for him, but this is beyond pathetic.

Go home, Quentyn. It's not your failure.

+.+.+

"—was made by two dead men and contained not a word about the queen or you. It promised your sister's hand to the queen's brother, another dead man. It has no force. Until you turned up here, Her Grace was ignorant of its existence. Your father keeps his secrets well, Prince Quentyn. Too well, I fear. If the queen had known of this pact in Qarth, she might never have turned aside for Slaver's Bay, but you came too late. I have no wish to salt your wounds, but Her Grace has a new husband and an old paramour, and seems to prefer the both of them to you."

Anger flashed in the prince's dark eyes. "This Ghiscari lordling is no fit consort for the queen of the Seven Kingdoms."

I don't disagree, but he's one to talk. Ask his sister how King Quentyn sounds.

Your father keeps his secrets well, Prince Quentyn. Too well, I fear.

I mean, yeah.

+.+.+

The shock was plain on Prince Quentyn's face. "Poison … meant for Daenerys?"

"Her or Hizdahr. Perhaps both. The box was his, though. His Grace made all the arrangements. If the poison was his doing … well, he will need a scapegoat. Who better than a rival from a distant land who has no friends at this court? Who better than a suitor the queen spurned?"

Quentyn Martell went pale. "Me? I would never … you cannot think I had any part in any …"

That was the truth, or he is a master mummer. "Others might," said Ser Barristan. "The Red Viper was your uncle. And you have good reason to want King Hizdahr dead."

Is that what poisoners do? Frame people? Imbecile.

Absolutely incredible this muffin isn't able to apply that same spurned suitor logic to another candidate.

Hizdahr zo Loraq might be worth a careful look. Sooner him than Skahaz. The Shavepate had offered to set aside his wife for her, but the notion made her shudder. Hizdahr at least knew how to smile. - Daenerys I, ADWD

x

If I wed Hizdahr, will that turn Skahaz against me? She trusted Skahaz more than she trusted Hizdahr, but the Shavepate would be a disaster as a king. He was too quick to anger, too slow to forgive. She saw no gain in wedding a man as hated as herself. Hizdahr was well respected, so far as she could see. - Daenerys IV, ADWD

At least he knows Quentyn's telling the truth. How low can this bar go.

+.+.+

"So do others," suggested Gerris Drinkwater. "Naharis, for one. The queen's …"

"… paramour," Ser Barristan finished, before the Dornish knight could say anything that might besmirch the queen's honor. "That is what you call them down in Dorne, is it not?" He did not wait for a reply. "Prince Lewyn was my Sworn Brother. In those days there were few secrets amongst the Kingsguard. I know he kept a paramour. He did not feel there was any shame in that."

Look at him bend himself into a pretzel trying to justify the queen's open love affair with a homicidal sellsword.

Is there any shame in Daenerys producing an heir we don't know Hizdahr fathered, Barry?

+.+.+

"Daario would kill Hizdahr in a heartbeat if he dared," Ser Barristan went on. "But not with poison. Never. And Daario was not there in any case. Hizdahr would be pleased to blame him for the locusts, all the same … but the king may yet have need of the Stormcrows, and he will lose them if he appears complicit in the death of their captain. No, my prince. If His Grace needs a poisoner, he will look to you." He had said all that he could safely say. In a few more days, if the gods smiled on them, Hizdahr zo Loraq would no longer rule Meereen … but no good would be served by having Prince Quentyn caught up in the bloodbath that was coming. 

Do you understand that means war, you fucking muppet?

The man constantly asks himself what Daenerys would want ...

The Shavepate was not wrong. Daenerys would want her children protected. - The Queensguard, ADWD

x

What would Daenerys want? he asked himself. He thought he knew. - The Discarded Knight, ADWD

x

Was he doing what Daenerys would have wanted? I was not made for this. - The Queen's Hand, ADWD

yet every action he takes further erodes her peace deal.

I want no war with Yunkai. How many times must I say it? - Daenerys VI, ADWD

+.+.+

"What name do you think they will give me, should I return to Dorne without Daenerys?" Prince Quentyn asked. "Quentyn the Cautious? Quentyn the Craven? Quentyn the Quail?"

The Prince Who Came Too Late, the old knight thought … but if a knight of the Kingsguard learns nothing else, he learns to guard his tongue. "Quentyn the Wise," he suggested. And hoped that it was true.

Final thoughts:

The only ending I will accept is him watching her bleed out, immediately followed by the least knightly death possible.

-> return to menu <-

[proton-wobbler]

Eurasian Jay (Garrulus glandarius)

"They're super pretty and hop around very adorably" "I fear they may be too common to make it, but I love them! They're the only larger colourful bird i usually get to see here, so when I do it always makes me happy. Cool fact I just learned: they (like other jays) bury acorns in the ground to retrieve them later, but they don't actually dig all of them up again and so they have played an important role in the spreading of oak trees."

Every time I research a new bird with a large range map I'm blown away by the amount of subspecies I find. 33! 33 for Eurasian Jay! Split into 8 different groupings- thats So Many! I cant find a good map to show the split amongst them but I'll drop as many pics of their differences as I can find below. They're mostly different in face plumage.

Despite still all being labeled under Eurasian Jay on eBird, the species has been split into three separate species as of 2017. "The International Union for Conservation of Nature (IUCN) and Birdlife International split the Eurasian jay into three species. The subspecies G. g. leucotis becomes the white-face jay (Garrulus leucotis) and the bispecularis group containing six subspecies becomes the plain-crowned jay (Garrulus bispecularis)."

Eurasian Jay were responsible for planting most European oak trees before humans began doing so, as they transport and cache hundreds of acorns on a yearly basis. Some jays have been reported to fly up to 20km to cache!

Sources:

Image Source: eBird (Eurasian [header] - John Higgins); all subspecies pics can also be found on the eBird page for this species as the main display images. Photographers are listed in Alt ID.

[f1]

W Series cancels final races of 2022 and declares Chadwick champion | W Series

W Series has confirmed it will not hold the final three races of its 2022 season and confirmed points leader Jamie Chadwick as champion. The series’ CEO Catherine Bond Muir said next week’s race in Austin and the planned double-header season finale in Mexico City, both supporting Formula 1 events, will not take place due to financial concerns. However she remains “extremely confident” that W Series will return for a fourth season in 2023. Chadwick, who comfortably led the W Series drivers’ standings following its last race weekend in Singapore, has secured her third successive championship, remaining the only driver to have been crowned champion in three seasons of the all-women single seater series. “Under our regulations, to have a completed championship, we need six races,” Bond Muir explained. “We’ve had seven races. So, yes, Jamie is now the de facto champion.” W Series’ financial concerns came to light prior to the most recent round in Singapore. Bond Muir had been hopeful of receiving financial support from backers that would allow the championship to conclude as planned in North America. She said talks are ongoing with potential backers, but they had to make the call last week to cancel the final rounds as the deadline for transporting equipment to North America loomed. “I’ve said that we were speaking to a number of people and we have continued those discussions,” she said. “We’ve had offers from a number of people, but the problem is getting money in doesn’t happen at the shake of a ‘money tree’. People have got to go through due diligence. “So we believed up until this weekend there was a possibility for us to get to Austin and we’ve just had to call it because obviously there are deadlines on payments to things that need to be done. So we could have kept it on for a couple of weeks, but we just had to make a pragmatic today.” Advert | Become a RaceFans supporter and go ad-free Bond Muir says she is sure that the championship will continue to run into a fourth season in 2023 and wants to return to race in North America. W Series’ third season concluded in Singapore “I am extremely confident that W Series will be here next year,” she said. “We’re racing next year. We’re definitely racing next year and hopefully in the United States.” Bond Muir informed the W Series drivers about the cancellation of the final rounds in an online meeting held this afternoon. “It was incredibly similar to the conversation that I had with them about cancelling 2020 because of Covid,” she said. “They are drivers. In their blood, all they want to do is race and they were incredibly upset. At the same time as them being upset, they were understanding. “But really the feeling that came out of it was ‘this is rubbish but, Catherine, this is what we’ve dealt with for 20 years. We’ve had promises of money, we’ve had contractual commitments for money and they haven’t come through’. “As far as we’re concerned at the moment, we want to keep the DNA of W Series going and it is our intention to still be providing all of the expenses for the drivers.” However Bond Muir admitted she could not be “100 percent” sure the series will be able to award Chadwick and her fellow drivers their prize money for their championship standings. “Where I sit at the moment, it is my expectation that will be paid out,” she said. “I can’t say 100% until the money, plus everything else in the working capital for the business going forward [is arranged]. But where I stand at the moment, I don’t see any reason why that won’t be the case.” With Chadwick declared champion earlier than planned, Bond Muir drew parallels with Max Verstappen being declared Formula 1 world champion in confusing circumstances during yesterday’s Japanese Grand Prix. “Obviously I am just tagging along on F1 ‘s coattails about this strange and unexpected finishes to championships,” she joked. Advert | Become a RaceFans supporter and go ad-free W Series Browse all W Series articles via RaceFans - Independent Motorsport Coverage https://www.racefans.net

[cr7vlogbuddy]

Swiss Win First Gold🥇 🥇 🥇 At Paralympics

https://sfl.gl/W9Ex

https://sfl.gl/hNST

World-Para-Sports header-logoSwitch RouteAll outcomes and medallists from day two at Para sports in Paris 2024Paris 2024: Catherine Debrunner flies to gold and Paralympic recordSwiss wheelchair racer ousts Tokyo 2020 boss Susannah Scaroni of USA to take gold in the ladies' 5000m T54 last in a morning meeting with the main decoration to has France, a world record to China's Zhao Yuping and Dutch long jumper Fleur Jong safeguarding her Paralympic title31 Aug 2024A female wheelchair racer standing out in front of three contendersCatherine Debrunner took her first Paralympic title in quite a while's 1500m T54 at the Paris 2024 Paralympics ⒸDavid Ramos/Getty PicturesBy OIS and World Para SportsIt was a morning of surprising happiness for Catherine Debrunner at the Stade de France on Saturday morning (31 August) as the Swiss outsprinted reigning champ and world record holder Susannah Scaroni of USA to take gold in the ladies' 5000m T54 last in a Paralympic record.The pair broke clear of the pack part of the way through a race stacked with wheelchair dashing heavyweights. Debrunner pulled away in the home directly to clock 10:43.62, right around nine seconds quicker than Scaroni's imprint from the Tokyo 2020 Paralympic Games."It's astonishing. It was an extreme push to remain in front of Susannah (Scaroni). It was an extreme race yet the group helped me," said the Swiss wheelchair racer, who will contend in other five occasions at Paris 2024."When I realized we were distant from everyone else I was truly cheerful in light of the fact that I realized I was second or first. However at that point she went super quick for the last 600m so I remained behind her. Some way or another, I had some energy left toward the end. Being first was astounding. I have never contended in such a tremendous arena. It's just the morning, yet it's full. It's marvelous," Debrunner added.Reigning champ Fleur Jong was in record-breaking structure too in the ladies' long leap T64, expanding her own T62 Paralympic record multiple times in her six leaps. Netherlands took silver as well, on account of Marlene van Gansewinkel.Jong uncovered she was restless to have the option to ring the Notre Lady chime along the edge of the track as a Paralympic champion."It's astounding. I saw the chime (rung by gold medallists) at the Olympic Games, and I was subtly dreaming about getting the opportunity to ring that chime myself. Furthermore, today was the day I got to make it happen," Jong said.China's Zhao Yuping broke her own reality record to win the ladies' spear F13, adding a first Paralympic title to her four world crowns. Yassine Ouhdadi El Ataby took gold in an episode stuffed men's 5000m T13 last giving Spain its most memorable gold in Para games at Paris 2024.The French group went happy as Antonie Praud won the host country's most memorable award in Para games wrapping up with bronze in the men's 1500m T46 - gold to nonpartisan Para competitor Aleksandr Iaremchuk."I could hear the group and I realized I needed to do my absolute best with it. Everything went practically how I would have preferred it to, and that is simply insane," Praud said. "I'd previously seen what it resembled in the Stade de France at the Olympics and when I went out on to the track, there was a mind blowing commotion. I took all the positive energy from the group, which helped me more than anything, particularly in the last couple of meters."

Swiss Wheelchair Racer Catherine Debrunner Won the 5,000 Meters to Bring Back Switzerland's Most memorable Gold Decoration At The Paralympics in Paris

https://sfl.gl/hNST

In 10:43.62 minutes, Debrunner set another Paralympic record. This is the second Paralympic gold award of her vocation for the competitor from Thurgau, who held the world record in the 5,000 meters recently. She won gold in the 400 meters in Tokyo.

Debrunner also Won Gold at the Tokyo Olympics. Keystone / Ennio Leanza

Marcel Embrace and Elena Kratter to convey Swiss banner at Paralympics

Swiss competitors Marcel Embrace and Elena Kratter will convey the Swiss banner at the initial service of the Paralympics in Paris on Wednesday.

Debrunner was thrilled after her victory. The silver medalist from the US, Susannah Scaroni, set an incredibly high speed. "I was in every case basically in the red zone. I then chose to remain in the slipstream for longer and afterward assault," made sense of the previous educator, who has been completely dedicated to brandish starting around 2022.

https://sfl.gl/hNST

After she and the American had split away, the two opponents came to a little understanding. "She inquired as to whether we could go quick together," expressed Debrunner in the meeting. Starting here on, obviously both of them would go for gold.

Notwithstanding gold, Switzerland nearly won one more decoration in the 5,000 meters. Notwithstanding, Patricia Eachus and Manuela Schär were barely beaten by Australia's Madison de Rozario in the last run for bronze. Eventually, the two Swiss ladies were simply 0.24 and 0.32 seconds off the speed separately. Schär is contending in her sixth Paralympics in Paris.

#Paris #Paris Olympic 2024 #Athletics Swiss Paralympics #Swiss Gold Medal #Wheelchair Racer #Catherine Debrunner #5000 meter Racer #Paris Olympic Events

[gosoccerdawgs]

District Tourney Champs - Again

Bearden 3 at Hardin Valley 1

DISTRICT-4 CHAMPIONSHIP (non-elimination)

Friday, May 10, 2024 7pm

Someone obviously forgot to tell #2 seed Bearden they were the underdogs traveling to #1 Hardin Valley for the District 4 Championship game, as they stunned the home team with two early goals enroute to a 3-1 win for their sixth consecutive district tourney crown. 

The Bulldogs came out in a fury, delivering a staggering blow in the opening nine minutes to take a 2-0 lead against the regular season district champs. Sophomore Ahmed Dkhiri scored on the Dawgs second possession following a long Lucas Ford throw-in and a Jack Raulston touch in a mad scramble at the six-yard box. 

Three minutes later, Preston Ford alertly found brother Lucas down the right side on a break, who chipped a perfect cross to sophomore Aiden Ainsworth, who scored his season’s ninth goal on a thunderous header as he crashed the box in perhaps the prettiest play of the year.

From that point, the two state powers traded possessions throughout the contest, as Bearden gradually transitioned to defensive mode. Hardin Valley had a goal called off in the fifty-seventh minute for being offsides, and the Hawk offense continued to build with ten total shots in the second period.

The Bulldogs gave the home team an opening when they were called for a take-down in the box with 5:34 remaining. Not to worry, however, as All-State-GK-to-be Logan Nelson confidently blocked the penalty kick with a diving stop to his left.

The Dawgs took it to the house from there--four minutes later, defender Shawn Spencer found Lucas Ford open in the middle as the junior forward scored his seventh goal on the year, beating the keeper one-on-one from ten yards for a 3-0 lead. The Bearden Bench erupted and emptied to the corner flag to congratulate Ford with 1:38 remaining.

An inconsequential P.K. was curiously called on Bearden with :58 seconds remaining to make the final score 3-1. 

With the win, Bearden earns a home elimination game Tuesday in the Region-2 semi-final versus Halls, an 0-2 loser at Oak Ridge, with a Saturday State Sectional berth on the line. Hardin Valley travels to Oak Ridge, with the two winners playing Thursday for seeding and home pitch. If you believe in good omens, the Bulldogs last played Halls in the 2016 Region-2 semi-final, defeating the Red Devils 10-0 on their way to the State Championship. Go Dawgs! Win State! Woof!

Goals: AHMED DKHIRI (6’ assist-Jack Raulston, Lucas Ford); AIDEN AINSWORTH (9’ Lucas Ford, Preston Ford); LUCAS FORD (78’ Shawn Spencer); Hardin Valley (79’ penalty kick).

Shots/Shots-on-goal: BHS 12/6 HV 14/7. Corners: BHS 3 HV 3. Fouls: BHS 15 HV 6. Offsides: BHS 0 HV 1. Yellow Cards: BHS 3 HV 3. Conditions: artificial turf football field, sunny & breezy, 54 degrees. Records: BHS 16-2-1 HV 17-2-1. 

Outside the box..................amongst several Lady Bulldogs on hand cheering on the Men were All-State sisters Nyla and Jayla Blue, Maci Ritzman and Emma Rainey.........former Bulldog All-State GK, State Champion, and current Tennessee Wesleyan Ladies Soccer Coach Bryan Walker was taking in the action.........Farragut Ladies Coach Jesse Stephens-Burkhart was on hand with her newborn son Dane.........Woof!

[microdentd]

Best Root Canal Treatment Costs in Pune/Near Me | Microdent Dentistry

Introduction:

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Highlight the affordability of root canal treatments in Pune by showcasing the average costs. A key sentence to incorporate is, "On average, the cost of a Root Canal in Pune varies from Rs. 2,000 to Rs. 10,000." This provides readers with a quick overview and helps search engines understand the context.

Breaking Down Root Canal Costs:

Create a user-friendly breakdown of root canal costs based on tooth type. Include a table or bullet points to make the information easily digestible. For example:

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Encourage readers to take the next step by contacting Microdent Dentistry for personalized information on root canal charges. Include a call-to-action (CTA) such as:

"Curious about the cost of your root canal treatment at Microdent Dentistry, Pune? Contact our expert dentist today for a personalized consultation and get a detailed breakdown of your treatment expenses."

Conclusion:

In conclusion, Microdent Dentistry stands as the epitome of excellence in providing the best root canal treatment costs in Pune. With Dr. Rohit Joshi leading the way, our dedicated team ensures top-notch dental care that is both affordable and high-quality. Whether you're in Pune or nearby, your journey to optimal oral health begins here. Trust Microdent Dentistry for transparent and competitive pricing, personalized consultations, and a commitment to unlocking radiant smiles. Your search for the best root canal treatment ends at Microdent Dentistry – where affordability meets excellence for a brighter, healthier you.

Read More:https://microdentdentistry.com/blog/why-do-dentists-recommend-dental-check-up-every-six-months/

BLOGS- https://microdentdentistry.com/blog/

For more details

Please visit the website: https://microdentdentistry.com/orthodontist-in-pune.html

Get Direction

For an appointment please call: 07264008000

ADDRESS: Ground Floor, block 4, Sarvadarshan Co-op Housing Society Ltd Abhinav Chowk, Karve Rd, opp. Saraswat Bank, Nal Stop, Pune, Maharashtra 411004

[ladyybridgerton]

Six Of Crowns Headers

like or reblog if you save it.

[barrowedits]

─ random headers

› like/reblog if you save or use | Ⓒ barrowedits on twitter

[softfenrys]

✨ Headers six of crows. repost if you save. ✨

[all-about-kyu]

۫♡ 𝟒:𝟐𝟑𝒑𝒎 ۫♡

𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 ۫♡ 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒅𝒚𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒔 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆𝒔 𝒊𝒕 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓

𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ۫♡ 𝑺𝒆𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒎𝒊𝒏 𝒙 𝒈𝒏!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝑮𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆 ۫♡ 𝒇𝒍𝒖𝒇𝒇

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ۫♡ 𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒐𝒇 𝒃𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒍/ 𝒑𝒔𝒚𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒍 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒑𝒕𝒔 (𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒍 𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒃𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒍 𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆𝒔), 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔, 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒅𝒚𝒊𝒏𝒈

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ۫♡ 𝟗𝟑𝟗

໑˖ ݁، ݁ ˖ 𖥔 ࣪ ˖ 𖤐ʾ ̨𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪◞ ໑˖ ݁، ݁ ˖ 𖥔 ࣪ ˖ 𖤐ʾ ̨𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪◞ ໑˖ ݁، ݁ ˖ 𖥔 ࣪ ˖

“I can’t do it anymore” you grumble as you walk out of your room.

Your boyfriend looks up from his phone slightly shocked to hear you so loud after not seeing you most of the day. He immediately sees the stress written on your face and pushes himself off the couch. He envelops you in a hug and sways you both back and forth in the middle of the room. Without realizing it you begin to sniffle and your eyes are lined with tears.

“Do you want to talk about it bub?” he gently asks.

You nod but your tears breach from your eyes and begin to wet the material of his sweater before you can start to vent to him. He brings a hand to the crown of your head and gently strokes it trying his best to comfort you. He lets you cry on him for a moment, he knew you were stressed out over something and all he wanted was to be there for you through whatever it is.

“Seung, I just don’t know what to do.” you hiccup, “School is just so stressful and I don’t know how much more I can handle.”

“Look at me,” he gently guides holding your face in his hands, “you are so incredibly smart sweetheart. I know it seems impossible right now but I know you can do it. I am right here beside you and I know you can do anything you put your mind to.” he smiles down at you and places a sweet kiss on the tip of your nose, “Do you want me to help you study? I may not know a whole lot about what you’re studying but I can do my best.” he offers.

“I’d really like that.” you smile finally feeling a little better.

“Go get what materials you need and then we can study at the table, okay?” he pulls you back into a hug.

You nod against his chest staying there for a moment longer before you pull away to get the materials from your room. You look at your bed to see what you were dreading, your textbooks laid out with several notebooks full of writing and sticky notes, your laptop with at least six tabs open trying to find extra help with the topics you were trying to study. You let out a shaky sigh before grabbing one of the textbooks and the coordinating notebook figuring it would be better to focus on one topic at a time. When you emerge from your room again you look up and see Seungmin turn to face you with a sweet smile resting on his lips.

“So what are we working on right now?” he beams.

“Psychopathology.” you sigh.

“We’re e studying psychopaths?” he giggle out his question.

“No, psychopathology is the study of mental disorder Seung.” you smile as you explain.

“Okay, well what are you struggling with?” he asked taking the textbook and notebook from your hands.

You sit beside him flipping through your notes to find the page you had written on the topic. When you get to the right page you jam your finger down on the header for the section. Seungmin looks at the topic and his eyes widened slightly seeing it.

“Biological explanations of disorders?” he asked, “I see why you might struggle with that. It sounds confusing just me reading the title.”

“See I’m fine with some but others have so many causes besides the standard biological cause that it’s hard to remember it all.” you sigh again.

“How about I name a random disorder or disfunction from the section and you tell me biological causes? Does that work for you?”

You not again and move closer to him on the bench. You rest your head on his shoulder wanting to be closer to him.

“Schizophrenia?” he asks.

“Fluid fills the ventricles in the interior of the temporal lobes, which oftentimes causes them to be enlarged. That most times cause the tissue of the temporal lobes to deteriorate over time. It also causes an over secretion of dopamine which causes the auditory and visual hallucinations and the delusions that are characteristic of schizophrenia.” you immediately answer.

“Well then, we know you know that one.” he giggles making your head bounce slightly on his shoulder, “How about depression?”

“That’s a bit more complicated,” you start, “depression is a mood disorder, there are several causes for it in a biological sense. It’s genetic, but you need to have a social trigger for it in some cases, making it an environmentally influenced biological depression. There are some physical illnesses that can cause depression, things such as age and gender can also influence it. Even time of year and temperature can influence a person’s depression. But when it comes to the chemicals in the brain, it’s a lack of the neurotransmitters norepinephrine, serotonin, and or dopamine.”

“See honey, you do know what you’re doing!” he enthuses turning to place a kiss on the top of your head, “Do you feel a little bit better about this stuff now that you’ve said it out loud with someone else?”

You nod, “Yeah, I do. It’s a lot easier to study with you. You make it fun somehow.”

“We can study together through the entire rest of the night if you want, I’m not going anywhere.” he smiles wrapping an arm around your waist.

“I’d much rather cuddle and watch some movies.” you laugh, “I probably should study some more though.”

“We can do a whole movie marathon of your choosing once we finish one subject, deal?” he offers.

“Deal.” you smile.

໑˖ ݁، ݁ ˖ 𖥔 ࣪ ˖ 𖤐ʾ ̨𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪◞ ໑˖ ݁، ݁ ˖ 𖥔 ࣪ ˖ 𖤐ʾ ̨𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪◞ ໑˖ ݁، ݁ ˖ 𖥔 ࣪ ˖

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𝑻𝒂𝒈 𝑳𝒊𝒔𝒕 𝑺𝒊𝒈𝒏 𝑼𝒑

[ktheist]

ghost of a kiss.

muses. duke’s son!yoongi x marquis’ daughter!reader x crown prince!namjoon / professor!yoongi x student!reader x detective!namjoon

genre. historical au. reincarnation au. modern au. 

words. 5.3k

note. nobody come at me for the header pls. or as bretman used to say, like fuck i’m tryin i’ve only been doin this for 2 hours 😭

x

There weren’t that many things Yoongi wouldn’t do if his father so wills it. Perhaps it was the Min blood coursing through his veins that made him so apathetic to human emotions.

You want to laugh.

You also want to cry, scream and throw the closest thing you have which is your fan at Yoongi’s ever emotionless expression. Just like a blank canvas painted with invisible ink, Yoongi never shows his feelings. Never spoke his mind.

Well, not around you at least.

It was as if you were just a pretty little doll for him to play with –no, he doesn’t even pay you any mind. He just sat there, sipping on the cherry blossom tea that the maid poured into his cup and gave one worded answers to the questions you asked after your endless chatter came to, well, an end.

After that, he put up with you a little bit longer when you insisted you’d wanted to escort him out of the garden and to the front of the mansion where his carriage awaited.

“Until we meet again, my lady,” he would bow but you would hold out your hand for him to place a ghost of a kiss on like lovers would.

It was always you who were asking for too much.

Always you who were a slave for his affection.

But instead of doing all of those things you dreamed of doing when you meet him again –and meet him, you do– you end up running past the grandeur doors of the ballroom, down the red carpet splayed hallway and into the gardens where red roses glimmer with dew drops underneath the moon rays.

What a heartbreakingly beautiful set up for a damsel with a broken heart.

“My lady,” it hasn’t even been five minutes when you hear that stone cold voice of Yoongi.

“Why couldn’t you just pretend you didn’t see me running like a scared, defenseless mouse after we met. After all, you’ve always been good at that –pretending like I don’t exist.” You wanted to laugh and laugh, you did. It sounds withered, unlike the full blooms of floral that surrounds you two.

“As your fiance, I have a duty to–”

“Duty.” You spit out the word like it’s poison, “was visiting me every fortnight for tea a duty of yours too?”

The corners of your eyes are red from roughly rubbing the traces of tears that threatens to fall on your cheeks and ruin your makeup.

You take a deep breath before turning to him, pushing down a silent sniffle.

“As you may have heard from your father, Duke Min, you’re relieved from that cumbersome duty,” you hold your chin high.

As you should.

Yoongi Min stares at you a moment longer than he usually would. Is it the hair? Your hair’s grown since he last saw you. 

Or perhaps the bodice that wraps around you and enhances your curves and bosoms. 

‘Perhaps’, you somberly admits, ‘he simply forgot how I looked after four years.’

“As you should have heard from the Marquis,” Yoongi presses, “I refuse to break the engagement.”

“Wha–” the word slips past your lips before you even register it.

“It can’t be undone, his Majesty already approves of the annulment,” you know you’re repeating words your father and brother uttered. Like a hopeful little mouse in the face of a black panther.

“Only with the Majesty’s approval can you request to break the engagement but it’s up to the Min’s if we wish to grant your request –I reject it.” Yoongi stands only a few feet away from you, his eyes appearing darker than black, shadowed by the moonlight.

When he steps forward and out of the shadow, you find yourself forgetting how to breathe. Like a beast in the night, he ambles his way to you elegantly and swiftly.

Before you know it, Yoongi is standing in front of you. And you, a captor beneath those haunting, onyx, splendor. His gloved fingers twirl a strand of your hair around them before he brings the golden locks to his lips.

“I loved you blindly, Sir Min,” you send your gratitude to the gods and goddesses for the stillness in your voice, “I longed for you like a sailor long to sail the seven seas but do you know what’s so wretched about this sort of longing? Only a lucky few manage to love without drowning.”

Your slender fingers curl around his wrist. Even then, you couldn’t close your fist around it –your hand is too small and delicate compared to his. And at times like these, you’re reminded of how woman you are and how man, he is.

“Release me,” the air feels cold against your now damp cheek but your heart is icier, “once and for all. At the very least, I’ll be able to marry a humble Count who’ll receive part of my inheritance once my father dies.”

The scoff that leaves the man’s lips sends shivers down your spine.

“A humble count,” his eyes gleam with mockery, as if he finds your words ironic, “did the Crown Prince of the Isira Dynasty not propose to you? Did you not come back for the sole purpose to tell me you’re abandoning me?”

You suspected the rumors of your getting closer to the Crown Prince, Namjoon, would spread over the continent.

“If you know, then let me go.” You say steely.

It’s the rawness in your tear-stained eyes that steals Yoongi’s breath away. The night breeze that blows past him almost sends him tumbling down like waves crashing against the shore.

“[Name],” he speaks your name for the first time in a long time, the syllables rolling off his tongue like sweet honey, “I’m not a man of many words. I don’t know how to–”

“You didn’t know how to kill either but you got better at it with practice!” Your throat feels as if it’s being grazed by sandpaper.

Your heart, on fire.

It’s the first time you’ve shown a different emotion than that heartwarming smile that looks like you’re meant for spring and blooming flowers. In that blissful moment, you look like one of the crimson roses that bear witness to you and Yoongi’s altercations.

“That’s right, I know what you do,” you nod, gaze burning with acid tears, “all those months spent waiting for you to come back from those expeditions. Monsters weren’t the only thing you slayed, were they?”

“No,” Yoongi breathes out and for some reason, his chest feels like it’s going to cave in and crush his heart.

The sensation is alien to him. Hell, he didn’t know he had a heart to begin with. It was just an organ that kept his blood pumping –he’d gladly tore it out and gave it to his dearest fiancée if she so much asked for it.

But now – now – she’s saying she wants no part of it. 

The realization comes to him like poisonous smoke. Spreading around the hollowed part of his chest and seeps into that beating organ of his. Before he knows it, you’re already slipping out of his grasp.

“I’ll break off the engagement,” he finally says, his brain not registering the words that left his mouth, “for a kiss.”

But his heart knows what he wants.

You look at him like he’s crazy, eyes going round and glossed lips parting in a silent gasp. But when he makes no attempt to correct his words, realization gradually settles in.

“Make it quick.”

Long lashes flutter shut, lips pressed in a straight, unwilling line. The hand that clasps around his wrist falls to your side. Your shoulders are tense. You look like you’d rather be with those chimeras Jeongguk’s breeding than here. 

Yoongi takes another step toward you. 

Your eyebrows knit together when his gloved knuckles caress your cheekbone. The sharp inhale of breath you take as you brace herself doesn’t go past him. A rose, even in the face of the hands that threatens to pluck it, remains fierce and grounded.

The wait feels endless. As if time passes agonizingly slow yet the only indication that time hasn’t halted altogether is the way your heart keeps palpitating inside your chest as though it’s about to explode any second.

Then you feel them –a pair of softest, ghostly, lips on your forehead. As opposed to the hand kisses he left you, this one lingers with a sort of yearning. And even then, it feels short-lived.

As though you will never have enough of Yoongi Min.

“My lady, you look disappointed, if you wanted me to kiss you elsewhere, you should’ve said so.” There’s a mirth in his tone. And for a moment, you feel warm, like the warmth of the sun hugging you.

“What if I did?”

You want to ask but you decide against it. Thrusting your chin up like the noblest of women would, you remind him of the deal, “I’ll send someone to retrieve the annulment papers in a week’s time. I assume it will bear your signature, sir.”

With that, you walk past him, your laced hand brushing against his gloved one but even on the verge of goodbyes, Yoongi Min doesn’t let you walk out of it that easily. His pinky finger hooks around yours like a rusted, weak chain. Unsure whether to keep holding on or letting go.

Yet your feet stop dead in their tracks. Your heart races. Deep down, you know you want him to hold onto you like you held onto him for ten, pitiful years.

“Have a good evening, my lady,” is all he says, his hand falling away and he begins strutting to the opposite direction you’re heading even though there’s nothing in that direction besides a maze made of rose beds.

But you don’t plan to ponder too much on it. Namjoon, the Crown Prince, is waiting for you back in Isira where you’ll build a new home. A new life. And with a loving husband.

Or so you thought. 

x

That was a lifetime ago. To say you opened your eyes to a twenty-one year old body in a world plagued by motor engine propelled and electronic devices –would be a lie. 

This body is yours.

This life is yours.

You remember your first step, first successful ride on the bike after your father took off the supporting wheels, your first fall and the rest of your firsts, seconds, thirds and so on. And as such, you remember your first time meeting Min Yoongi.

At the age of twenty-one and him, twenty-six, his emotions are hard to pinpoint.

He isn’t much different in this lifetime.

His hair is a shade of rich brown that could easily pass as black if he’s not walking underneath the sunlight. He’s taller than the twenty-two year old boy you last saw before your carriage crashed into the ditch –that was the last thing you remembered from your last life. 

No, you didn’t die. But the rest of your life past that point was blurry.

And here he comes, all in his dark colored vest over a white undershirt and black trousers. Professor Min Yoongi is nothing short of perfection.

“[Name], do you have a minute?” He approaches you like a panther; soundless and undetectable.

Before you know it, he’s five feet away from you and if you were to make a quick u-turn, it would be too obvious.

“I’m afraid not professor, I’m sorry, should I email you at a later time so we can discuss matters of my assistantship?” You put on your best smile and he lifts a dubious brow that screams that he sees right through your lie. 

Yet he doesn’t press on.

Instead, he offers another alternative –though completely disregarding the last bit about the email, “right, then meet me after class.”

“I-I’m afraid I can’t do that either professor, I have to rush to Cyber, right after–!” You almost choke on your words.

“I’ll talk to Professor Park about that,” he says simply and taps you on your shoulder like any good-natured professor would with his top-performing student.

It just so happens that you’re extremely good at the class he teaches, which, ironically, is Neurocriminology.

x

“Professor Min?” You knock on the intimidating wooden door and hear a curt ‘come in’ from the other side before pushing the door open.

Behind his desk, Yoongi looks up at you through his long lashes and straight into the windows of your soul.

Even in your second life, his piercing stare affects you.

But you tell yourself that it’s because he’s just devilishly handsome and you’re humbly a woman. 

That, and he and Professor Park Jimin are the youngest professors in the department.

“Those assignments over there need sorting.” Yoongi points to the pile of papers in a box perched on the coffee table as though waiting for you to arrive.

“Yes, professor,” you breathe through your mouth and swallow back the words of accusation that threaten to fall past your lips.

You did volunteer to be a student assistant but you never thought, in a million years, that the man who resembled your fiancé in the past… Well, on paper at least. You never thought he would pick you as his supervisee.

The room is silent save for the rustling sound of papers fluttering as you shift through each assignment and place them alphabetical orders of the name. Every once in a while, you can’t help but steal glances at the man seated behind the desk. With his hair slicked back and the cuffs of his wrist rolled up to his elbow, he looks like every girl’s modern day prince charming.

“Why are you so keen on running away from me?” His husked tone cuts through the silence.

“Pardon, professor?” You blink, not catching the meaning of his words until a moment later.

Your cheeks heat up under his piercing gaze, the recollection of the occasions you fast-walked to lose him in the hallways burning in the back of your mind.

“I-it seems I always have places to be… classes to attend, I’ll make sure to meet you every morning to confirm my tasks, professor,” you can’t just confess that he has a face and name of the man you once loved in your past life.

If you so much spoke of your remembering you’d be sent to the asylum.

A ghost of a smile tugs on the corners of his lips but it was gone as soon as it came. You’re not sure if you’re just seeing things.

“Very well, send me the location of your apartment so I can pick you up tomorrow,” he doesn’t look up from the screen of his Mac when he says that.

“P-professor?” You blink, disbelief coloring your complexion.

“You said you’d meet me every morning, yes? I always have my breakfast at 7:30 AM at The Curve, we can discuss matters of your tasks over breakfast.” He goes on like it’s just another day of him assigning you a task to complete.

x

The next morning, you sit with your back straight, staring at the pancakes Yoongi ordered for you. The sweater he wears over his vest makes him seem more relaxed than his usual vest and tie look. His long lashes almost brush the top of his cheek as he casts his gaze down at the leaf shaped latte he’s drinking.

“Professor, I double checked with the administration office and they gave me a list of things I have to do to complete my assistantship. From the tasks you’d given me, I checked off at least three of the requirements,” you take out an azure blue notebook where you flip to a page that has a piece of paper and slides it across the table.

“You came prepared,” he muses, an amused smile playing on his lips and your little heart does its little flips.

“I take it you’re writing a paper on neuroscience and human behavior –if there’s anything, I can help you with, please let me know,” you return his smile with a schooled one –the kind that you use when you’re dealing with strangers.

“Sure,” the professor nods, “I could use some help researching neurodivergence.”

The conversation flows smoothly. The worries you harbored for the whole of your university life now dissipated. You were at your most comfortable when it comes to academia. Your passion lies in your interest in criminology and the one man who you could engage in an intellectual conversation is none other than the man whom you tried so hard to avoid.

At some point, you think your worries, silly. Just because they share the same face and name, doesn’t mean they share the same memory. For all you knew, you could be the one in a million who remembers your past life.

That is, until Yoongi asks, “were you happy?”

He uses the word ‘were’ to refer to the past. It takes you a moment to register that he didn’t mean your childhood nor adolescent years.

And when you finally put two and two together, you can almost hear your heart drop. You thought you’d be sweating bullets and heaving for air from the tangible pressure this conversation brings.

But before you could say anything, Yoongi speaks again, “I won’t push for an answer, I know where that led me before.”

He casts his gaze down, long, nimble fingers picking up the cup of latte and making the regular sized cup seem miniature in his hand.

x

It’s a few days later, as you accompany him to another university to meet with a fellow specialist, that you finally say, “you never pushed me.”

Stirring the cup of black coffee, sitting at one of the round, two-persons tables in the cafe of the Sociology Department, you go on, “in fact, you never asked for anything at all. I was always the one asking for too much, giving just as much.”

‘I loved you too intensely and I burned too bright.’ These are the words you never dare say.

Loved.

Because you don’t love Min Yoongi anymore.

Perhaps, that’s why you’re unusually calm.

“I can’t remember everything –only bits and pieces. That night,” you swallow –you don’t need to steal a glance at him to know he’s thinking of the same night; the night you said your goodbyes, “after the carriage crashed, I remembered seeing shadows clash against one another. Namjoon’s men went against the assassins who came for me because I was the rumored Crown Prince’s soon-to-be fiancée. I had to go into hiding after he was demoted to a mere prince because of his brothers’ schemes… at some point, I remember starving because we had nothing to eat.”

A new identity was all Namjoon could offer for his beloved. He spoke of claiming back the throne that was rightfully his yet his supporters scattered all over the continents after the siege. Their spirit waned overtime. He came for you after the shadows saved you but you both lived in poverty until one shriveled up like a dead flower and the other went mad for the crown that was once his.

The way his fists clench with remorseful anger doesn’t go past you, it’s almost as though you can hear him blaming himself for your choices.

You smile wistfully, “but yes, I remember being happy,” the smile tugs into a straight line as you face him with conviction, “would I give everything up for that sliver of happiness again? No,” you shake your head, “now I just want money.”

Yoongi laughs. Like truly laughs out loud with his shoulderline shaking and hand on his stomach. The sound lacks the menace that you remembered him to wear around him like a cloak.

All of a sudden, the air seems to change. The tension you once felt, now dissipated into thin air. A familiar warmth creeps up your neck but you mask it with indifference.

You can’t afford to fall for him all over again.

Not when you’ve had a lifetime to mull over and decide these feelings would die with you –get buried with you.

“What happened after your sister ruined the dukedom?” It’s when you both got to this point of the conversation that you felt your heart writhe inside your chest.

As if physically hurting for the fate that befell Yoongi –at this point, it was just an assumption, but you were sure that–

“Aera tracked us one by one until she killed every single Min,” he says simply, as if talking about a cherished sister who up and left home with the family’s savings a few hundred years ago, “she was the best of us. She knew people like us couldn’t be left alone to live a quiet life.”

In the lulled silence, you notice the festering remorse that dances in his eyes.

He clasps his palm over his mouth as he stares out of the window, “of course, things are different now. We’re not allowed to kill.”

At that, you almost spat out the coffee you’re downing. You couldn’t believe your ears.

“It was illegal to kill then, you and your family did it anyway because you were just so– so… messed up!” You explode partly, voice lowered as you lean over the table, cautious of anyone nearby who might hear you.

“Aren’t you glad neurocriminology gives justification to murderers, well, murdering nowadays?” He smirks, one corner of his lip tugging upwards.

You find yourself breathing in sharply as your heart skips a beat at the sight of Min Yoongi’s dark humor.

The Yoongi in your past life would never be able to even understand a joke –you were sure.

But now it’s you who doesn’t appreciate the humor.

“Is that why you became a professor?” It’s apparent in the way your brows knit together.

“Rather, paired with my previous… knowledge, it’s an easier way to get a PhD and a stable earning,” the shrug makes him appear boyish –younger than he is.

For some reason, he was several years older than you in this lifetime compared to the last.

“Apparently mine deems that I marry rich,” you remark playfully.

“Then, shall we get married? I missed my chance in my previous lifetime and I’m kind of well off in this lifetime,” it’s the easy suggestion of marriage that makes you almost choke on the pancake you just directed into your mouth.

“Professor, there’s just something you don’t joke about,” you say after gaining a semblance of your composure yet your heartbeat drums in your ears and your cheeks feel as though they’re on fire.

Why are you so happy to hear that Min Yoongi, your former fiancé and beloved, entertained the idea of marriage with you even in this lifetime?

x

“Your sisters... do they remember?” Yoongi asks one fine evening as you’re surfing the internet to research the needed materials he tasked you with.

“How did you know I have sisters?” You blink, surprised.

Yoongi had to mask the involuntary smile that tugs on the corners of his lips when he sees how lovely and adorable of a face you’re making.

“You mentioned them before,” he states, “even if you didn’t, I’d suspect as much since I was born with the same siblings from the previous lifetime –for now, it’s me, Aera and Hoseok, who knows where my dad hid the rest of his children and mistresses.”

“They don’t remember, I tried asking when I first started remembering –was it at the age of eight? They looked at me like a devil just possessed their little sister,” you sigh softly, “it’s better this way. Life isn’t all that easy for them either in the past.”

The cherry blossom tree standing tall and proud one the edge of the field is positioned so that anyone who stood in front of his window would get a full view of raining, pink petals.

“Why do you think we remember?” You ask, staring at the petal that fluttered into the room and found itself atop Yoongi’s deep brown lock.

“I’d say fate’s giving us a second chance but you’d laugh at me,” he plainly says, flipping a page of the journal he’s reading.

And laugh at him, you do, “professor, I didn’t take you for a hopeless romantic!”

x

“We both changed, you and I,” you told him over dinner at le Saumon de Bord du Lac.

The piano playing in the background and the dim lighting gives off an atmosphere of a romantic evening. The waiter even thought you were a couple and offered a couple’s discount.

Yoongi being Yoongi, accepted it right away and called you his ‘darling’. Your cheeks burn up for a good fifteen minutes until the wine comes and you finish the whole glass in a few gulps.

“No shit, Sherlock,” he agrees wholeheartedly without even looking up from the menu, “for one, I’m not some apathetic maniac who goes around wielding spears.”

“No, you’re my professor and I’m your student, we should never be caught dead having dinner together,” you shoot him a rebellious grin to which he nods.

“Touche,” he acknowledges.

x

A week later, you stopped dead in your tracks when you saw a blonde haired, hazel eyed man approaching you and Yoongi. You’d stepped behind Yoongi’s broad shoulders, the man almost didn’t notice you at all.

He’s supposed to give a talk on neurocriminology –a guest of Yoongi’s.

“Are you okay?” He asks after you’re back in his office, he pulls you away from the spotlight when he notices your forced mechanical smile and fingers tugging at your sleeves.

“I know, right? Why did I get so weird like that?” You laugh to yourself, as though engulfed in your own world.

It doesn’t take a genius to – or perhaps, Min Yoongi was that, so that’s why he successfully – put two and two together and figured out that his esteemed guest is the reincarnation of Namjoon.

The blond didn’t seem to recognize you though.

But that didn’t stop him from taking an interest in you.

“[Name]... that student of yours, is she single?” Namjoon asked when they were out for dinner with the other professors but before Yoongi could even respond, the blond was already laughing it off, “nevermind, forget what I said. You wouldn’t happen to know anyway.”

“Don’t go around flirting with my students, they need to focus on getting a degree first before anything else,” Yoongi jokingly warned.

Something in his stomach twists and turns, as if a snake was slithering around his intestines, spreading its venom all over him.

But that did nothing to stop you and Namjoon from exchanging numbers and going out to brunches and dinners like he did with you. You keep on tugging on her sleeve and pushing your hair to the back of her ear when you spoke to Namjoon at the next talk he was invited to.

Much to Yoongi’s surprise, despite your obvious discomfort, you’re the one who suggested inviting Namjoonfor the new semester and handled all the matters pertaining to the talk.

x

“I don’t want to push you because if I do, you’d drift farther away from me and if I pull, you’ll recoil and take ten steps back –there’s no right way,” Min Yoongi has you trapped between the door and his body one afternoon. Particularly, after he saw the name Joonie flash across your screen as your phone vibrates.

You excused yourself to answer the call but just as your hand touched the door handle, his hand rested on top of yours, stopping you from walking out of his office.

“Wh-what are you saying, professor?” You stammer, the now still phone held in front of your chest.

He thinks he sees the tip of your ear turn red but it could be because of the fading winter air.

It was always uncomfortable to watch you and Namjoon interact but Yoongi attributed it to the fact that one remembered the times they spent together in their past life and the other having absolutely no idea yet still falling for your charms either way.

He twirls a strand of your hair around his index finger before he kisses it, “he may have your heart but I’ve loved you first –I’ve always loved you first.”

“P-professor-!” You exclaim, heels turning and so does your body.

No doubt, your sole purpose of turning around to face him is to caution him of his bold declaration –you were like an open book that Yoongi could just pick up and flip the pages to. You’d always been readable, even back then. Perhaps, that was why it felt like a hand clawed through his chest and wraps its talons around his heart each time you put up walls and turn away his subtle advances.

Because he knows winter has long settled in the hollowed part of your chest.

But because of how he was leaning down to kiss your hair, you end up face to face with only inches apart. There’s no mistaking the blush that spreads across your face, washing away the initial surprise of finding yourself so close to him.

“Call me Yoongi,” he implores with that deep, husky voice of his.

It’s the way he looks at you. Like he’s frightened beyond belief that you’d do exactly what he thought you would; take ten steps back –that makes your heart thump unceremoniously in your chest.

“Y-yoongi… we shouldn’t…” you murmur weakly, eyes tracing his soft lips before snapping up to meet his gaze.

“May I kiss you?” He knows he should let you go to answer the call –what you do and who you see in this lifetime is none of his business.

And yet, he can’t bear the thought of you walking away from him in this lifetime. Not when there’s the second chance he made a pact with the devil for.

Fate and the devil, what difference are there if they meant to serve one purpose?

You nod.

And all of a sudden, he’s back where it all ended. In that garden where roses bore witness to their tragic love affair.

He leans in and presses his lips on your forehead ever so gently –it feels as though if he puts any more pressure, you’d break like you’re made of glass.

“Kiss me for real –if you kiss me on the forehead, it feels like you’re saying goodbye,” your eyes flutter open and your brows join together in protest, he feels you tug on his shirt impatiently.

The softest of smiles graces Yoongi’s lips and you think your heart is going to explode into millions of pieces. Is it not enough that he’s the reason you almost forgot to breathe?

“Wasn’t it you who was itching to run away from me?” He teases, pinching your cheek and just like his hand kisses –you still feel them ghost over the back of your hand every once in a while– his touches are feather light.

“Only because you were an emotionally constipated idiot.” You argue back, lips puckered in protest.

“Then, if I may… my lady…” he trails off, index finger curled under her chin, tilting you face up.

“You may,” you giggle against his lips, arms tracing up the planes of his abs to his chest and find home around his neck as you pull him closer, deepening the kiss.

x

(“I was only putting up with Namjoon because he’s the head of the criminology department in Incheon –I was thinking of applying for a job there after graduating.” You confess some time later once you’re at le Saumon de Bord du Lac.

“Huh,” Dion blinks, not expecting that.

“Did you think I was going to date him in this lifetime?” You giggle as if you already know the answer, “true, he’s still as handsome as ever, but we did go broke and… I never truly loved him.”

You cast her gaze down, cheeks burning with warmth, shyness overcoming you all of a sudden. If he could, Yoongi would gather her in his arms and embrace her like he’ll never let go.

But he settles with a reach of his hand on top of yours on the table, thumb caressing the spot just below the knuckle of your fourth finger.

“In this lifetime… definitely.”)

x

note. this was shared on a discord server and posted on wattpad under a different pseudonym! 

[vivianweasley]

Pride and Prejudice (Chapter 4)

Summary: Your father is Lucius Malfoy’s cousin, and after the war, it was really difficult for you to find a job because of your last name. So your mother and Mrs. Weasley came up with a crazy idea. A fake marriage between you and Fred Weasley. 

In this chapter: Christmas at the burrow!

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Malfoy!Fem!Reader. slight mention of Ron X Hermione.

Warnings: mention of food, the reader’s shampoo smells apple (cuz i love the smell of apples and this will be useful in later chapters asfdjgk)

Word count: 1.6k

disclaimer: all pictures used in the header are from Pinterest. Credit goes to the original owners.

Please do NOT repost or translate my work on any platform! Reblogs and comments are always welcome:)

Pride and Prejudice Series Masterlist

You were sitting under the tree outside of the Burrow, making little flower rings and crowns. That was when you saw someone running towards you, and before you could recognize who it was, that shadow already climbed up the tree.

“Fred Weasley!! You say sorry to Ron right now!” Then you heard Mrs. Weasley’s voice shouting and coming your way. Beside her was a crying four-year-old boy, covered in paint. He was crying, but his state somehow made you chuckle. 

“Y/N, dear, did you see Fred?” Mrs. Weasley stopped when she saw you and tried her best to put on a smile when she asked.

Maybe it was because Ron was crying in such a hilarious way. Maybe it was because you were interested in meeting the person who did this, so you covered for Fred, “I didn’t, Mrs. Weasley.” 

Molly has always heard from your parents that you were a well-behaved kid, so she didn’t doubt a word you said and walked away. 

The little prankster finally climbed down the tree after Molly went back into the house. He held out his hand to you, “Thank you for helping me! I’m Fred! What’s your name?”

You shook his hand, “Y/N.”

“Brilliant! What’s the word again-Ah! Since you just covered for me, we’re officially partners in crime now!”

You chuckled at his silly wink. You didn’t have any siblings, and you weren’t very close with your cousins either. So you were happy that you were making friends. 

“What are you doing out here?”

“Making flower rings.” The flowers in your hand suddenly reminded you of something. You took a flower ring you just made and slipped it onto his left ring finger. He blinked and looked at you confused.

“I saw it somewhere that partners in crime wear matching rings. So here’s yours,” you explained and showed off the matching ring on your left hand, “and here’s mine.”

“Wicked!”

~

You were at the Burrow, nervously playing with the little silver flower on your wedding ring. This was actually the first time you were back at the Burrow even though you married Fred months ago. After all, it was a fake marriage, so you weren’t obligated to go to each other’s family gatherings. But it’s Christmas, and Molly insisted on having you at the Burrow, so your fake marriage would look more realistic.

So here you were, fidgeting at your husband’s childhood home. It wasn’t the first time you were at the Burrow, but for some reason, you were suddenly nervous that you won’t make a good impression. What if Molly spent time with you and realized this fake marriage was a mistake? What if the other Weasleys didn’t like you? What if-

“What are you thinking?” Fred’s voice startled you.

Of course, you weren’t going to tell him the truth, “Nothing.”

Fred raised an eyebrow, but he didn’t ask more questions. Instead, he wrapped his arms around your shoulders and started bringing you to the door, “Well then, let’s go!”

“To where?”

“Quidditch game! I need you to cheer for me and my team!”

“Okay, but I’m only cheering for the winning team!”

You and Hermione were sitting under the tree, watching their game. You had to admit that today’s game was indeed very intense. It was no less exciting than the school quidditch matches.

Hermione was watching carefully with her fists clenched. She would cheer when Ron successfully hit away the quaffle. And she would chuckle and whisper, “Idiot,” when Ron put on a silly face as he cheered.

You brought a book to the match, but your eyes were on Fred the entire time, following him wherever he goes. You noticed how his forearm muscle would tense up and how serious he looked when he’s focused. How come you never realized that your fake husband looked this good when he was playing quidditch. 

Before you even realized what you were doing, you started cheering silently when Fred hit the bludger and gasping when the bludger almost hit him. You turned to look at Hermione when she was cheering for Ron again, and you realized you were just doing the same thing. And at this moment, you felt like you were really Fred’s wife, instead of just playing the part.

The game came to an end with Ron’s team winning and Fred’s losing. Everyone was cheering for Ron, while Fred just sat next to you quietly, with defeat written all over his face.

“I think you were brilliant out there,” you commented.

“I thought you were reading a book.”

“I was watching the game, too,” you continued, “Ron was pretty good, but if you didn’t save him, that bludger could’ve broken his arm.”

Fred turned to look at you with his eyes widened, looking very surprised, and you continued, “And I saw you hitting the bludger away three times more than George did.”

“So you were paying attention to me?”

”Of course,” you rolled your eyes to cover for the fact that your cheeks were heating up, “I was paying attention to you because you are my only friend here. Plus, you are my husband. It would be a little embarrassing for me too if you weren’t doing good.” You blurted out all the excuses you could find and went back inside with the others.

But Fred found himself unable to move. Growing up with six other siblings, it seemed like no one ever paid attention to him and only him. Sometimes he felt like even his mother would just treat him and George as one inseparable group collectively. 

But now, you were only paying attention to him. And the way you said “my husband” worked like a spell that rendered him motionless. He was unable to do anything except for blushing and smiling like an idiot.

~

“Your mum’s cooking is so much better than yours,” you mumbled after you swallowed your food and took a sip of your drink.

“Yea, but my cooking is still better than yours,” Fred said as he dumped a spoonful of your favorite dish on your plate. 

Molly smiled with adoration when she saw you and Fred helping each other to your favorite dishes so naturally without saying a thing. The last time she saw you two sitting at the same table, you were still rolling eyes at each other.

You glared at Fred, trying to think of a smart comeback. But Ginny spoke first, “You know how to cook? How come you never cooked for us?”

Fred smiled at his sister, “Yea, that’s not happening.”

“I can cook for you! I’m better than him, anyway,” you offered as you glared at Fred one more time.

“Okay, I’ve only known Y/N for less than a day, but I already like my sister-in-law better than you.” 

“At least I won’t burn my toast twice in a morning.” 

“I was in a hurry!” you protested, “At least I didn’t almost burn the kitchen down with a roast chicken.”

Ginny laughed at how you two were bickering like an old married couple. She wasn’t exaggerating when she said she liked her new sister-in-law. She always thought you were pretty cool back in Hogwarts, especially after seeing you comforting and protecting a few younger students when the death eaters were controlling the school. “Y/N, where are you staying tonight? You can stay in my room if you want.” But she soon realized something, “Or are you staying in Fred’s room?”

You blushed at Ginny’s question and immediately looked away, trying to search for a good response. 

“Don’t worry about it, Ginny. They are pretty used to sharing a bed, right?” George raised his eyebrows as he teased.

“Oh shove off!” Fred glared at George, but you could feel your face heating up like an oven. Luckily, baby Victoire started crying, distracting everyone, and saving you from further questions.

~

After the dinner, Fred stayed downstairs to catch up with Bill, and you went upstairs on your own. The twins used to share the same bedroom, but George moved to Charlie's room since you were here for Christmas, leaving their childhood bedroom to you and Fred.

When Fred went upstairs, he saw you reading by the windowsill. It was strange having a girl here in his childhood bedroom. But watching you sitting there and reading so intently with your lower lip between your teeth, Fred felt like it made sense for you to be there. It felt natural, like you were the owner of this room. 

“What are you reading?” Fred asked as he approached you.

“Pride and Prejudice,” you replied without looking at him.

“Never heard of it. Who’s the author?”

“You say it like you’ve read many books,” you finally looked up to mock him, “The author is called Jane Austen. She’s a muggle writer.”

Fred was surprised, “You’re reading a muggle book?”

“Yea. As long as it’s a great book, muggle or wizard, I will read it. Unlike you, not reading anything at all.” you glared at him, for you knew he was assuming things about you again.

Fred wasn’t offended by your comment. Instead, he propped up his head with his hand and looked at you, “How about you read it to me, so I could say I read it too.”

You rolled your eyes but still picked up the book and started reading. Fred always loved your voice. Now listening to you reading a book to him, your voice felt like a soft lullaby, calming him down and soothing his soul.

Fred smiled and decided to rest his head on your lap. You rolled your eyes again but didn’t stop him. Your fingers soon started combing his hair absent-mindedly. Fred closed his eyes contently, taking in the smell of your apple shampoo. This night was just perfectly peaceful and tranquil.

“Y/N?”

“Mhm?”

“One year later, after we got a divorce, if you still want to come here during Christmas...I think my mum would be happy to have you.”

“That would be lovely,” you replied as a warm feeling spread through your body. You had a feeling that you understood what he was trying to say.

(to be continued.)

Chapter 5

~

series taglist: @ifilosemyselfagain @theweasleytwinsgirl @bookworm06 @unabashedbookscollector @txtdreamss @sagittarius-flowerchild  @rsheridan @ovrwd @anywherebuthere @allaroundaddict @jeminila @secretsofageek @magical-spit @freddieweasleyswife @lilypad-55449 @hufflepuffzutara @honey-honey-5644 @kyloren-peterparker @treblebeth @kyloren-peterparker​ @fred-sux​ @rodrickmalfoy​ @liliputbahn​  (message me if you want to be added or removed!)

(General taglist in reblogged post)

Taglist Form!

[jerkbitchidjitassbutt]

It Was You (Part One)

A/N: Jensen and Y/n are childhood best friends. When his agent informs him that his image could use some improvement for a role, will she help him? Or will her feelings get in the way?

A holiday (Christmas centric) Jensen x Female!Reader Best Friends to Lovers series for @spnchristmasbingo. Un-beta’d, so all mistakes are mine. Header created by me with images from Google. Chapter word count: 3371

Series Warnings: break up; angst-ish at times (if you squint), but mostly all the fluff.

I consider this an AU, as Jensen is single in this fic. This is completely a work of fiction, and I wouldn’t want his reality to be any different, this is purely for entertainment.

The slight chill of a Vancouver December morning roused you from a peaceful sleep, making you snuggle further into the down blanket and comfort of your plush bedding. It was two weeks until Christmas and the weather was supposed to be a balmy high of 32 degrees today, so you had planned to stay in, do some shopping online, and stay by your cozy fireplace with every holiday movie you could find. Willing yourself to get five more minutes of shut eye seemed like a helpless feat as the wintry cold seeped into your apartment. You opened your eyes to the gentle prisms of light floating in through the adjacent window, the sunrise indicating it was time to get up for the day.

Sitting up to perch on the side of your bed and grabbing your wide-rimmed glasses from the nightstand, you slid your chilled toes into the warm slippers waiting and shrugged on your fuzziest sweater. It may be time for that fire sooner than you thought.

Padding into your kitchen to get a much-needed caffeine fix after last night’s dinner and drinks with the rest of the cast and crew, you took your favorite mug from the cabinet and loaded the coffee maker, making an extra cup or two for you and any visitors you might have a bit later.

Jensen’s apartment was down the hall, and if you knew him, he’d still be sleeping, but he’d probably wander over at some point this morning. Cradling the mug in your hands warmed them slightly and sent a shiver down your spine. Even your warmest pajamas and the heat from the thermostat did little against the Canadian winds. Laughing slightly to yourself, you’d thought you’d be used to it after six years of winters here.

You wandered towards the windows of your living room to pull back the long curtains. It was a favorite spot to have your coffee and gaze at the sights of Vancouver. Settling on the window seat, you felt a warmth spread through you as you noticed it had snowed in the night, and from the looks of it, it was a depth of fresh, soft powder – a type that you rarely saw growing up in Texas. People were bundled up tightly as they walked the streets, but a few people, adults and kids alike, were already out playing in the thick blanket of snow.

As your coffee began to warm you through, you couldn’t help the giddy feeling of joy that rose at the sight – it made the holiday season and the spirit of it even more intense than just viewing the lights of downtown and the large decorations everywhere. For some reason, snow just sealed it all up in a nice little bow.

Sure enough, about halfway into your second cup of coffee, you heard a key in your door and Jensen shuffled in, still wearing his pj’s with tousled hair, but he had thrown on a thick sweater too.

“Good morning.” You called, still seated at the large window.

“Mornin’ sweetheart.” He replied with a quick wave as he tossed his keys on the counter and waltzed into your kitchen in search of his mug, his voice still thick and gruff with sleep.

He mixed his cream and sugar and took a long sip, letting out a contented sigh after the steaming liquid entered his body. He was notoriously grumpy without his coffee, but he always met you with a sweet greeting when he came over. Walking around your kitchen island and into your open living room, he slumped into the recliner across from you and pulled the leaver to release the footing, allowing him to lean back with his feet up. He adjusted himself to get comfortable, careful to not spill the mug in his hand.

“What time did you get in last night?” you asked, taking another sip from your own cup.

He covered his eyes with his free hand, still obviously tired. “About 2:30. You know how Jared gets when we break for hiatus, he never wants the party to end. He was still talking to me as I was shutting my door.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. Jared was the most social person you’d ever met and knowing that he wouldn’t be back to Canada and on set for a month, he would always soak up every little bit of time he had with the cast and crew. Even though Jensen was griping about it now, you knew he also didn’t mind. He’d probably be missing everyone, especially Jared, about four days into the break. You didn’t get home until about 1 a.m., and that was only because you were beginning to doze off in your cocktail.

“Tell Cliff thanks again for driving me home last night. I just couldn’t cut it.”

“Yeah, I know… Lightweight.” Jensen teased.

“Hey, you didn’t have a 5 a.m. set call yesterday like some of us.”

Jensen huffed a small laugh from his seat, still resting his hand across his closed eyes. His sweatpants hung low on his hips and his green Henley stretched across his biceps as he rested his coffee on his thigh. A slight 5 o’clock shadow and the bedhead he was sporting all combined into a handsome image. He may be your best friend, but you could still appreciate the looks the man was blessed with.

Seemingly close to falling back asleep, you called to him in a hushed voice, “Jay. If you want to go back to sleep just put your coffee mug on the table, okay?”

“Hmmmph. No, I’m up.” He fibbed, as evident from the way he blinked widely once he opened his eyes again. Forcing himself to stand, otherwise he would really fall back asleep instead of just resting his eyes, he walked towards you with his cup, dragging his feet slightly as his legs sluggishly pulled him across the room. His head was down and his shoulders were wilted, but he was trying to get his body moving.

When he reached you, you felt his chest bump your shoulder before he rested his cheek on the crown of your head, his arm dangling by his side as he slumped. He took a deep breath before rubbing his hand across your back and standing, smiling as you peered up at him with a grin.

Licking his lips, he finally peered out to the streets below and his eyes went wide, “Y/n!” he practically shouted.

You flinched, “What? What’d I do?”

“You didn’t tell me it snowed!”

Giving a huff and a giggle, you couldn’t help but be sarcastic, “I’m sorry, was I supposed to while you were falling asleep in my chair?! Besides… it’s Canada. It’s not like snow is very rare here.”

“Y/n! That’s, like, snow! The kind we used to wish for when we were kids!”

“I know, I thought that too.”

“Well, c’mon!” he said, setting his cup down on the ledge. “We gotta go!”

“What? Go where?”

Jensen was already halfway through your living room and heading for the front door but paused to turn and point a finger in your direction, “You, me, snowman. Now.”

“Jay,” You whined. “It’s cold and its early. You sure you don’t want to just watch Netflix?”

“Y/n!” he said once again, looking as excited as a 12-year-old on a snow day from school. “Snowman! Please?” he begged, waving his arms frantically as he gestured outside.

“Okay, okay. Fine. No need to use your puppy eyes on me. I’ll meet you outside in 15 minutes.”

With that, a huge grin broke out on his face and he took off down the hall, leaving you to go in search of your heaviest ski jacket.

Jensen knocked on your door soon after you shrugged into the puffy coat, dressed in thick snow pants, his own jacket, and a black beanie and gloves with a small bag in his hand. Straitening your scarf before locking your door, he barely gave you a moment to put on your knitted pom beanie before he was pulling you by your hand towards the elevator of your building and pushing you out of the revolving doors into the frigid air. Heading to the side where a large park sat adjacent to your complex, he looked around before tugging you along to a spot with a large open space. He nodded to himself, as if to say he’d found the perfect place for his snowman-building escapade. As your boots crunched beneath you, you each began gathering handfuls of snow to make a large base, then packed and sculpted two more spheres. Though you initially protested, you had to admit that it was fun, and the coldness against your cheeks wasn’t bad after a bit, particularly after seeing how happy Jensen was when his finished product towered over yours. He’d managed to gather the majority of the snow within about a six-foot radius of where his snowman stood before piling it high.

“Hey, hey… look at that. An accurate height difference!” He touted, teasing you.

“Oh, hush you. It’s not my fault that you were given the extended version of the human body.” You glared at him playfully.

He laughed as he bent to rummage in the bag he’d brought, producing two carrots. He wiggled them in his hands before handing one to you. He was just about to place it in a very telling place when you grabbed a handful of snow and threw it in his direction.

“Jensen!” You berated. “That’s not where the carrot goes! There’s kids out here!”

He stood up slowly, turning to you with a serious smirk, “Did you seriously just throw a snowball at me?”

Wiping your hand on your pantleg quickly, you gave him a mischievous grin, “Who, me? I’d never.”

“Oh, its on!” he declared as he bent to scoop up the little bit of remaining snow in his reach, that which he hadn’t used for his snowman.

Ducking behind your own, he threw and missed, sending the snow flying passed you. A quick grab from around you produced another snowball that you chucked from behind your shield, hitting him square in the chest. The fight lasted for a good while, the two of you trying your hardest to target the other as many times as possible and receiving some laughs and glances from passersby as they walked along the sidewalk. Finally, Jensen gave up and took off towards you, chasing you in circles before he tackled you into the plush ice, pinning you beneath him as he tried to bury you both.

“Jay! Oh my God, stop! Its freezing!” you yelled through your laughter.

“Truce?” he asked, his eyebrows raised in a challenge.

He was still on top of you, his nose and cheeks a bit flushed from the wintry air. He still had that devilish smirk on his face, but his green eyes were soft and something beneath them made your heart flutter slightly in your chest. He scanned your face quickly before glancing towards your lips, but you were quick to snatch another fistful of snow to smash onto his head. Scrambling out from underneath him, you ran as he said something about you being a cheater before he jumped to his feet.

After the war ended and a truce was finally declared, you both put the finishing touches on your snowmen after you found sticks for the arms and coerced Jensen to put the carrot in the right spot. He stood back proudly, admiring your handiwork.

“Hey.” He gestured to you, “C’mere.”

A bit warry that he was going to tackle you again, you came to his side as he pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket and turned on the camera. Pulling you into him, he said, “Gotta have evidence of our masterpieces.” He reached around your waist and tugged you in close, framing both of you and your snowmen in the background. The cold air made the tip of your nose and the apples of your cheeks change in color, and there was still some snow in your hair from when Jensen wrestled you, but both of you smiled widely. Feeling the scruff of his short beard against your temple and his arms wrapped around you made you think about the way his eyes danced across your face moments ago, but the thought was quickly dismissed as he stepped away from you slightly after he made sure the picture wasn’t too blurry.

“Oh, crap. Is that what time it is?” he said, alarmed, looking at his phone screen. “I have to meet Stacy in an hour.”

Stacy was his publicist and agent, but he usually didn’t meet with her during the hiatus. “You’re meeting Stacy today? What’s up?” you asked, a bit confused.

“She wants to talk to me about this movie. Some sort of romantic drama she thought I may be good for.”

“Oh,” you replied, “that’s great! You didn’t tell me! Would you have to cut back filming the show?” While you were a bit surprised, you were genuinely happy for him.

“Stacy knows Supernatural comes first, so I hope not.”

“Well, let’s get inside so you can warm up and change. I was going to make my mom’s chili and cornbread for dinner tonight, if you want to join me after your meeting.”

The excitement on his face was palpable as his eyes lit up the moment you said it, “You know how much I love your mom’s chili. We’re just meeting for coffee near her office, so I’ll bring the beer.”

As you were walking back into the building, your phone rang. It was Stephen, your boyfriend of three months.

“Stephen, hey.” You said as you entered the elevator, not missing the slight eyeroll that Jensen gave.

“Hey, honey. How are you? I didn’t want to call too early, just in case you were still sleeping after last night.”

“I’m good, thanks. Actually, just got done building a snowman with Jensen.”

A short silence followed, until Stephen spoke up again. “Oh, that’s nice.” He said, his voice noticeably clipped. “Well, I’m going to take my lunch break soon. Would you like to meet up? I can come to your side of town.”

“Uh, sure. I’ll meet you at that café on 3rd in about a half an hour?”

“Sounds great. See you there.”

Shoving your phone back in your pocket, you ignore Jensen’s stare as the elevator climbed to your floor.

“So…” he pressed. “Stephen?”

“Yeah, Stephen. We’re going to meet up for lunch while you have your meeting.”

“Hmph.” He huffed.

“Jay, we’ve known each other our whole lives and to this day you’ve never liked a single guy I’ve ever dated. What’s wrong with Stephen?”

“I don’t know. He’s just kind of… meh.”

He wasn’t lying, if you were being truthful. Stephen was meh. He was cute and had nice eyes and dimples, but he didn’t make you laugh. He was a bit dull and your sense of humor didn’t mesh with his well. Still, you thought that it might get a bit better once you got to know each other and began to understand one another more. Your relationship was still very casual, but maybe it could go further? You weren’t really sure, honestly.

“What about you and Laura?” you asked, quickly changing the subject.

“I told you… that was nothing.” He quipped as you reached your door. “We went on like three dates.”

“Yeah, the last one being just this past week.”

“Yeah, and it just didn’t go well.”

You let out a small sigh. Discussing your dating lives wasn’t really something the two of you loved to do with each other. Maybe when you were teenagers, yeah. You’d asked each other for advice and gossiped a bit about the people in your high school, but as you grew into adults it just became a subject you both steered away from besides the occasional, hey I’ve got a date conversation. Neither of you had ever really found a person that the other approved of, each finding a reason to be picky every time.

“I’m sorry, Jay. I’m just deflecting.”

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I was pushing.” He said sincerely with a small smile. “Well, you enjoy lunch. My meeting’s at 1:30 across town, so I should be back by 4 at the latest. Pick out a movie for us, okay?”

“Sounds great. I will.” With that, he kissed you quickly on the side of your head and went into his apartment as you ducked into yours. You freshened up quickly and changed, grabbing a different peacoat, hat, and scarf as your others were still wet.

It was a short walk to the café, and they had good sandwiches. You were surprisingly hungry, so you were glad to see Stephen waiting outside for you. He gripped your hand tightly and gave you a quick kiss in greeting before leading you into the restaurant. You were seated and ordered quickly, knowing that he would have to return to work soon.

“So, how has your day been?” You asked as you shrugged off your coat, hanging it on the chair behind you.

“It’s been… good.” He muttered.

“Uh oh,” You said, getting his attention as he looked away from you. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, really. I was just surprised to hear that you were with Jensen today. You had mentioned you were going to stay home.”

Stephen smiled, almost in an attempt to let you know that he was trying to be lighthearted about it, but you could tell it bothered him.

“Yeah, when he saw it snowed last night, he just really wanted to make a snowman.” You laughed, trying to steer away from the subject. Stephan wasn’t overstepping, but he also wasn’t going to prevent you from spending time with Jensen. The two of you had been inseparable since, well, practically since birth. Your parents had been the best of friends, so you were pretty much raised together.

“Have you, um…” Stephen began, hesitantly. “I know you’ve been friends forever, but have you ever had feelings for him?”

His blue eyes shown with a slight jealousy as you felt a slight pang to your heart.

“No, of course not.” You managed to say with a steady voice and a smile as you picked up your napkin to place in your lap.

It was a lie, one that you’d been telling for years. At one point in your life, you were in love with Jensen. But, the past was in the past. If Jensen didn’t even know, why should Stephen?

Stephen seemed satisfied with your response for the most part, and the two of you had a pleasant lunch. When you stepped away to use the restroom, your phone chimed. Stephen tried not to even look towards your side of the table where your phone sat, but when he saw Jensen’s name, he read the text quickly before the screen dimmed.

Hey, sweetheart. Finishing up here soon and then I’ll be heading home. Do you need me to grab anything from the store?

Stephen knew the two of you were a package deal, and thought he could honestly be alright with it, but between working together and spending practically all of your time together, he was starting to wonder where he fit in in your life. He busied himself by checking his Instagram as he thought about what he should do and found that Jensen had tagged you in a photo from this morning. The caption was simple, just a few words about the filming hiatus and the first snow of the season, but the two of you were so close. Stephen found himself wishing that you could reserve a smile like that for him, but he had yet to see it.

It hurt, but he knew he couldn’t play second fiddle to Jensen. He cared about you, but perhaps it was better to bow out now.

“Hey, sorry about that.” You said brightly as you got back to the table, smiling. It still didn’t reach your eyes, though.

Stephen leaned forward on his elbows with a sigh, “Y/n, I think we should talk.”

To be continued...

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[uas-fics]

-Title: Flower Crowns

Rating: G

Summary: Half lost on his walk, Leon finds a frustrated Piers attempting to weave flowers together.

Ships: Leon x Piers

Content Warnings: N/A

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What a wonderful day for a walk. The sun shone over the yellow-green of the land. Not a single cloud floated across the blue sky. Flowers swayed in a gentle breeze. Rookidie chattered in the trees as bug pokemon skittered along the ground.

Simply a wonderful day outside of...Well, Leon didn't know exactly where he was, but he was at least sixty percent sure he was outside of Hulsbury. Or maybe Tuffield? He was on one side of the Northern Wild Areas.

Probably.

He stretched his arms up. His jacket sleeves rolled down to his elbows. The worn blue jacket had been his grandfather's and was still a little too big for him, even now that he was an adult, but it was comfortable and warm enough for spring days. He kept it with him when he wanted to go incognito since it wasn’t as distinguishable as his sponsor cape.

He could use more days off like this, more calming walks in nature with nothing but the plants, wild pokemon, and--

"Oh, c'mon!"

Leon jumped, nearly knocking his hat from his head.

Who was that?

He titled his head, listening. Someone swore up a storm not too far away. Half in an attempt to help, and half to seek confirmation of his location, Leon followed the colorful language over a small hill to its source.

Amongst a field of wildflowers and tall grass, someone kicked at the dirt. Grass, flowers, and dirt sprayed into the air.

"And you’re no help, you piece of--!" They spun around, throwing something.

Leon ducked just in time to avoid coming face to screen with a cellphone. The phone landed with a dull thud in the grass behind his feet.

Regret welled up in Leon's stomach. Maybe he should have just called the Pokemon League and asked them for help getting home. This person seemed too upset, and Leon interrupting their rage would just make them angrier, won't it?

"Champion Leon?"

Leon jumped at the sound of his name. Taking his gaze off the phone on the ground, he looked towards the phone's owner.

The gym leader of Spikemuth winced.

"Sorry 'bout that, mate." Piers raised his hands, palms facing forward as if he expected Leon to throw something back at him.

Leon shook his head, both to shake off his shock as well as to placate Piers. He picked up the phone.

"It's nothing to worry about," He reassured, wiping the screen on his jacket sleeve. On the screen, some sort of brightly colored webpage stared back at Leon. In a curling font, the header read 'Just A Unovan Country Gal' with 'recipes, DIYs, and patterns for good old girls' written underneath.

Deciding not to ask about the site, he pressed the power button as he passed the phone back, darkening the screen. Piers put the phone in his pocket. He hadn’t noticed Leon staring at the screen or didn’t acknowledge he knew Leon saw it, at least.

"You're lost, aren’t you?" Piers didn't hesitate to ask.

"What? Of course not. I know where I am," Leon lied, unsure why he did. Everyone in the Pokemon League knew he was terrible with directions. Every gym leader had to come to find and escort him to their gym at some point or another, including Piers.

"If you need help gettin' home, I can take you,'' Piers offered. "I'm done with...I'm done for today."

"Done with what?" Leon couldn't help but venture. The Unovain website flashed in his mind’s eye.

He couldn't figure why Piers of all people would be in a wildflower field in the middle of the day so far from Spikemuth. Was he picking flowers for a special someone? Searching for a certain pokemon? Training his team? Did it have to do with the website he had open on his phone?

Piers wrinkled his nose. "None of your business."

It was Leon's turn to hold up his hands. "Sorry." He took a few steps past Piers. "Didn't mean to pry. I'll leave you to it if you can point me toward Hulsbury."

Piers eyed him up and down, slowly, calculatingly. A shiver ran up Leon's back. Why did his stomach twist into knots? It wasn't like Piers planned on stabbing him.

With a heavy sigh, Piers pinched Leon's jacket between his fingers, stopping him from wandering off.

"Flower crown," he muttered, refusing to look at him.

"What?"

"Flower. Crown. I was trying to make a flower crown." Piers took his hand away to run it through his thick bangs, pushing them back away from his face. A tinge of pink blush dusted his face.

Leon bit the inside of his cheek to keep a laugh in. Flower crowns? Piers was the least likely person to be making flower crowns. Leon tried to imagine the dark-type gym leader with a ring of wild daisies and dandelions around his head but only succeeded in a snort of amusement at the idea.

Piers glowered and raised his hand. All of his nails had a sheen of shiny black paint, except for the middle one lifted at Leon, which was a matte white.

"If I left you out here, you would die of exposure before you found your way back."

Leon covered his mouth before another snort could make its way out.

"Sorry, sorry, but..." He took a breath, "why do you need a flower crown? It doesn't much match your..." he gestured to Piers’ punk, monochromatic outfit, “aesthetic.”

"It isn't for me," Piers snapped. "It's for Marnie, my sister. She wants one, not me."

Leon wasn't sure he'd ever actually met Piers' sister. He rarely went to Spikemuth, and when he did, he just stopped by the gym to deliver papers to Piers and get out. Had he ever even seen Piers’ sister before? She was about Hop's age, he knew that, but he couldn't remember if she was a little older or a little younger.

"Oh, of course. That makes sense," Leon said. "That's nice of you to make her one."

Piers searched his face for any sign of insincerity. Leon flashed him his champion smile. Whether that helped or not, he didn’t know.

Piers snorted. More to himself than Leon, he muttered, "It'd be nicer if I knew how to make one. Stupid website wasn’t any help..."

At this, Leon finally took a gander around. Most of the flowers had been plucked in the immediate area. They either sat in a pile or as parts of what Leon could only assume were attempts at flower crowns.

He knelt and picked a crown up, holding it carefully. Yellow daisies made up the crown. Each daisy had a slit cut in the stem with the next daisy slipped through until the end where the last stem was tied to the first. It was crude and the spacing of the flowers uneven, but not the worst flower crown Leon had ever seen.

Before Leon could look closer, Piers snatched the crown out of his hands. Pale yellow petals fell to the ground.

He glared, the tips of his ears burning red. “Making flower crowns isn’t a life skill they teach you in school, you know.”

Leon tilted his head to the side then asked, "Do you want help?"

"Help?" Piers tossed the crown into the tall grass. "You know how to make them?"

Leon nodded. "I grew up in Postwick." He fell back to his bottom. "Everyone knew how to make a proper crown." His lips twitched up into a smile. "I remember chasing down a wooloo to stop it from eating the crown I'd just given it."

He took a few daisies from the pile next to him. It took mere seconds for his fingers to remember the motion of wrapping stem over stem.

"Silly thing was someone's prized wooloo, and the farmer spoiled it rotten," Leon continued, occasionally looking down at his hands, "so when it saw me coming towards it with a handful of flowers, it thought it was getting a treat."

He laughed at the memory. He couldn’t have been more than seven or eight at the time. His mother still brought it up when she wanted to embarrass him in front of guests.

“I remember looking out the window and seeing my little boy, nearly in tears, shouting at a fat old wooloo.” She’d laugh. “Oh, he chased that thing for an hour trying to catch it!”

As Leon continued rambling, Piers watched his hands weave together daisies, dandelions, and corncockle. He sat back with his hands resting across his knees. He puffed his cheeks a little as he watched, breathing only through his nose. Whether he noticed he was doing it or not, Leon wasn't sure and didn't ask.

"And that's how I broke my arm for the first time," Leon finished, holding up the crown. He placed it on Piers' head where it sat unevenly on top of his ponytails. Leon beamed at Piers, proud of his work as if they were children playing in the fields of Postwick and not young adults.

Piers brushed his fingertips against the soft petals. He took a dandelion and a wild clover flower from one of the piles. With his face set in determination, he started to copy what he'd seen Leon doing. He wove together six flowers before tossing his hands in the air.

"What am I doing wrong?" He demanded.

Leon scooted until he sat next to Piers then took the crown to examine it. He nodded to himself. Without asking, Leon took Piers' hands in his own.

"You're doing it backward. See here?" Leon made Piers' thumb press against the first wrap in the crown. Instead of locking around the flower, the stem went behind it. A simple mistake for a first-time crown weaver to make.

Piers pulled his hands back.

"I think I got it." He took a meadows cranesbill and corncockle and began the wrap and lock method Leon showed him. He held up his attempt for inspection.

"That's it. Just keep doing that until it's long enough."

"This is going to take a while," Piers said, adding a daisy to the chain.

Leon shrugged sympathetically. "It might," he settled into a more comfortable, half-reclined position, "but it'll be fine. I'm here to help."

Piers paused and looked over at Leon, eyeing him once again. This time, however, Leon didn't feel a chill run up his back. Instead, heat crept up his cheeks at Piers' half smile towards.

Leon's pride wanted him to hold Piers' gaze as he would with any other gym leader, but he broke away to look at a patch of foxgloves in the distance.

"Thanks." Piers turned back to his project.

They sat in comfortable silence for a while before Piers held out a flower. Its stem was too short.

"D’you know what this is?" He asked, dropping the flower in Leon's lap.

Leon picked it up and spun it in between his fingers. Of course, he knew what it was, but he shrugged and pretended to think it over.

"Primrose, I think." He said. "My grandma kept some fancier varieties in the house when I was growing up."

The memory of cleaning up broken pots formed a smile on his face. Sonia and he landed themselves on his grandmother’s naughty list for killing her primroses, even if it was an accident.

Piers hummed. "I thought that's what it was. And this?"

Leon moved next to Piers. "That's a ragged robin. This is a cornflower. That's chicory." He continued pointing out the names of the flowers he knew, silently thanking his mother and grandparents for explaining all the wildflowers to him when he was a kid.

Of course, he didn't know them as well as Milo. He couldn't tell what medical uses dandelions had or how to make coffee from chicory, but Piers seemed impressed nonetheless with his botanical knowledge.

Leon picked up a flower from a failed crown attempt. He held it up, about to explain what it was, but Piers spoke first.

“That’s a wild violet.”

Leon slowly nodded. He was a little disappointed he didn’t get to explain it but shoved the feeling away. Of course, Piers would know such a common flower.

Piers smiled down at his work. “Marnie made me fill a whole basket with them once. She learnt you can cook with them.”

“Did you--cook with it, I mean?”

“Unfortunately.” Piers snorted. “I’ve had pot brownies that taste less like grass.” He paused, then added nonchalantly, “Before I was part of the league, of course.”

, Leon snorted a laugh to himself. That was a lie, he knew, but instead of remarking on it, he said, “Did you use the flowers or leaves?”

“Marnie baked them, not me. I just turned on the oven. I think she just put the whole plant in there, roots and all.” He laughed. “I’m going to have to tease her about that when I get home. Thanks for reminding me about that.”

Finally, Piers held up his crown. It was far from perfect, some of the flowers lost their petals and long stems stuck out at odd angles, but Piers held it out as if it were a royal crown. His expression wasn’t unlike how Leon’s mum said he looked when he finished making a crown for the spoiled wooloo.

"Wow, it looks great," Leon complimented.

Piers snorted with a smile. "For a first attempt, I guess." He looked at his flower crown, then at Leon, then back, before reaching up. He took hold of the bill of Leon's baseball cap. With a flick of the wrist, he tossed it off then replaced it with the crown.

He smiled at him. “You look like a prince, champ.” He teased before bending down and picking up the hat.

“I could say the same.”

The two shared a laugh and grins. Their fingers touched as Piers pushed the hat into Leon's hands. Leon wasn’t sure the touch was unintentional.

"It's getting late."

Leon looked up at the saturated orange-red sky.

"If you get me to Hulsbury, I can get a taxi home."

Piers chuckled and shook his head. "You really are lost, aren’t you? We're not too far outside the Spikemuth Tunnel, mate."

Leon dropped his hat. He held his head in his hands. The heat of embarrassment crept up his face. He had wandered farther off the beaten path than he thought. How did he even get so far away from where he started like this?

With a sympathetic smile, Piers put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed.

"How about I take you back to my place, as a thank you for teaching me this." He gestured to the crown on his head. "I'll cook you up a little somethin' then you can hitch a ride on a flying taxi back home."

Leon's heart skipped a beat. He swallowed the embarrassment down and smiled.

"That sounds great."

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AN: I stopped writing this halfway through to go outside, find some flowers, and learn how to do this because the way I described Piers doing it is how I've always done it. XP It is a completely valid way to make flower chains don't get me wrong, but it doesn't look nearly as fancy.

Anyway, maybe a little too sugary sweet, but I wanted to write some short fluff and doggone it I did!

Check out @uas-art for more of my drawings.