#marriage is a piece of paper none of this is real we are on a giant rock floating in space

[the-old-man-has-the-phonebox]

Watching Drew Barrymore in The Wedding Singer like ??? Bitch you’re upset you’ve been engaged for two years? Goddamn I’d just be happy someone wanted me

[mavrintarou]

Lord Gojo Satoru [1]

Hi All, hope you all have been well. I'm going through a writer's block for Toru & Mateo. Bear with me. In the meantime, I can distract you with Lord Gojo #hearteyes

Lord Series masterlist

Part two

Warning: angst, violence (TW: description about past physical abuse Y/n suffered through), smut (18+)

.

Lord Gojo Satoru tossed the last scroll into the flame, destroying the evidence of details about the last remaining elder.

Satoru was known as the young Lord who rosed into his high position by diminishing the elders of his clan.

He was now the head of the Gojo clan.

He now reigns over the clan and will rise to make changes to his desires.

. .

“You must consider marriage and make haste to produce an heir, my Lord!”

Rolling his eyes, Satoru looked out the window, ignoring what the clan members he had chosen were saying.

Approaching the age of 27, he knew he could no longer delay marriage and the prospect of producing an heir. His only challenge was that he found none of the recommended ladies to be deserving of a significant role.

The only woman Satoru has ever believed to fit the role of being his wife and the mother of his children was the very one that he could not have. 

Yet.

As soon as she is found, he will bring her back to his kingdom.

“Any news on her?”

They did not need to ask who he meant, everyone knew he was looking for Y/l/n Y/f/n.

Gojo Satoru has sent special men to search for the woman who has occupied his heart, mind, and soul.

The eleven members glanced nervously amongst each other before one finally replied, “no, my Lord. We will continue to keep searching for her.”

.

.

Y/n turned her head towards the breathless maid running towards her. “Yuko, what is the matter?”

The young maid whom Y/n had watched grow up from a little girl stopped in front of her, leaning against her for support as she tried to catch her breath. “Y/n, someone is looking for you!”

Frowning, Y/n asked, “me? Who?”

Yuko shrugged her shoulders, “I was running errands for our Lady when I heard many talk about the new Lord who has announced a reward if anyone knew any information about…” she paused and looked around before whispering, “Y/l/n Y/f/n.”

Y/n was under a new name given to her by her new house, Yui. She has been using the name Yui for six years. Yuko only knew of her birth name by overhearing a conversation between her mother and Y/n.

Yuko pulls out a heavily folded-up piece of paper, handing it to Y/n. “I took this off the pillar.”

Y/n’s eyes widen when it’s a drawing of her.

.

Y/n served her Lady her evening tea. She bowed her head, bidding her Lady a good night but before she could exit her chamber, her name was called.

“Yuko, you may leave but Yui, please stay for a moment. I have something to discuss with you.”

Y/n nodded her head at Yuko, sliding close the door after her.

Lady Komatsu gestured to the spot across from her.

With carefulness, Y/n set her cane down and was about to lower herself onto the cushion on the floor when she was stopped. “Please, have a seat beside me.”

Taking a seat on the soft couch across from her lady, Y/n quietly asked, “what is it, my Lady?”

Lady Komatsu has been nothing but kind to Y/n, taking her in and generously treating her like a family rather than a maid.

“It has brought to my attention that…” she sighs softly, “someone is looking for you.”

She knew of Y/n’s real identity.

Looking up, Y/n inquired, “do you know… who?”

“Lord Gojo Satoru.”

Y/n’s breath hitched, she was sure it was him but a part of her hoped it was not.

“That was the previous family you served, is that correct?”

Nodding her head, “yes, that is correct. He is the young master.”

“Who is now the head of the Gojo clan.”

Y/n’s eyes widen at the news. Satoru couldn’t have become the head of the clan yet, his father and the other elders…

“He is searching for you…” Lady Komatsu raised a brow at her, “my next question is, do you want to be found?” She threaded her fingers together and placed them on her lap. “If you do, I will release you. If you do not… I will turn a blind eye and not know who this Y/l/n Y/f/n is.”

.

Y/n rubs the achiness in her right knee. Even after almost ten years, the pain would linger now and then…

Reminding her of her place.

Reminding her of her status.

That she was merely a maid for the Gojo house and falling in love with the young master Gojo Satoru was forbidden.

Horrific memories came flooding back as she shut her eyes tightly.

Beaten and bruised Satoru stood before her.

He smiled softly at her even with a swollen and broken lip. “Y/n…”

They both knew their love for each other would never flourish with their different statuses.

Y/n has tried many times to cut it off, to destroy their sad and pathetic love.

Her request to be relocated to a different Gojo site was approved. On the day of her relocation, Satoru caused a predicament and enough was enough from his father.

Y/n cried and tried to pull away from the guards as the other guards beat the young master in front of her.

“Heed this warning, Satoru,” his father gripped the chin of his son, “know your place.” He points a finger at the guards holding Y/n down.

It took Y/n by surprise, the next thing she knew, she was writhing in pain on the ground. She gasped loudly, clenching her teeth as she gripped her right leg. Her knee was bent awkwardly, blood began seeping through her kimono.

Satoru screamed Y/n’s name, trying to crawl towards Y/n but a heavy weight held him down by the back of his neck.

With one foot pressing down on his son,  he looks down at his son with cold hard eyes, “this is all your doing, Satoru. Next time,” his tone is icy, “it won’t end with just a broken knee.”

That was the last time they saw each other. Y/n was moved to an unknown location, sold, and served under a different master and family.

It has been six years and she couldn’t deny the knowledge of hearing him search for her after all these years.

But why?

“If you do, I will release you. If you do not… I will turn a blind eye and not know who this Y/l/n Y/f/n is.”

Y/n closed her eyes.

“Can I have some time to think about this?” she asked after a few minutes.

“Of course, think about it.” Lady Komatsu smiled, “I want you to be happy, Y/n.”

Can she truly be happy?

What was Lord Gojo’s motives?

.

Weeks passed and rumors continued that a young Lord was looking for a woman.

Locals have all turned down when being asked because only very few have ever seen Y/n and are aware that she is assigned to the Komatsu house. Maids leaving the compound were restricted and only a few were assigned to be the designated one to run errands outside the compound.

Y/n was serving her lady their afternoon tea when loud commotions were coming from outside.

“I’ll go check,” Y/n assured, setting the kettle down.

She hurried out to the corridor and froze.

Standing no more than twenty feet in front of her is Lord Gojo Satoru.

His eyes trail down to the cane she used for years. He swallows the lump in his throat and looks at Y/n in the eyes once more.

“My… Lord,” she barely whispered against the wind.

He stood before her in a blink of an eye, he closed the last remaining distance between them. His long arms wrapped around her frame, holding her close.

.

“Come with me,” Satoru squeezed her hands firmly, he had not been able to let go of her since he touched her. “Come home with me,” he pleaded softly. He looked across at Lady Komatsu and turned his body. “Please, allow Y/n to leave with me. I will compensate for the time you’ve taken care of –“

Lady Komatsu held a hand up, silencing Satoru. “You will not need to, Lord Gojo.” She looks over at Y/n, who is still looking down at hers and Satoru’s hands. “If Y/n wishes to leave with you, I will release her.”

Y/n lifts her head and at Lady Komatsu, her eyes brimmed with tears. “I do, I want to leave with… Satoru.” She turned her gaze to Satoru’s crystal blue eyes, tears slipping down her cheeks, “I want to go home with you.”

.

Satoru watched as Y/n strolled through the compound she had once called home, a place filled with both beautiful and painful memories. It was where their love had initially blossomed and later suffered.

The place where they last encountered years ago has undergone a beautiful transformation into a flower garden, adoring exclusively with her favorite flowers. He made sure only her favorite flowers bloomed there.

He could not see her face, but he knew the painful memories of that day were replaying in her head. Taking a few strides, Satoru hugged her tightly from behind. His left hand moved to cover her eyes, “I cannot erase that moment from your life, but what I can do and I promise you, I will create new moments to overcome them so that you will never have to fear it anymore.” He felt her tears against his palm and he slowly moved his hand away. “I have planted all your favorite flowers, see how it’s blooming for you… each time it withers at the end of each season and blooms at the beginning of the new season… it is a means of new life and starting over…” Satoru turned her around and tilted her chin upward. “It is a new season, Y/n. Please, start over with me?”

Y/n gazed longingly into his beautiful eyes. She reached up to cup his cheeks, her thumbs rubbing his cheekbones. She still could not believe that he was in front of her. “Satoru…”

Satoru gazes longingly at Y/n, “let us start again, together, with no one to interfere with our love.” The spark in her eyes turned into pain and sadness. He frowned, “do – do you not want to start again?”

“We are too different, my Lord.”

His light blue eyes darkened. All his life, he had only ever loved Y/n, yet everyone, Y/n including now, always told him they were different. “How? You are a human just like me? Are you not?”

His breath hitched when she pulled away from him, taking a step back. “You know how, my Lord. We are from different statues.” Her head bows, “you know clearly how it will not work for us.”

“Then why did you agree to come home with me?” He gritted through his teeth. He sees her flinch and he takes a step back, releasing a deep breath while running a hand through his hair.

Her sharp inhale before she spoke, “forgive me, my Lord. I was selfish and greedy at that moment and acted without the right mind. If – if you want to send me back I will gladly return.” She bowed.

Satoru closed his eyes and exhaled quietly. He opened his eyes, they were hard and cold, “look at me Y/n.”

She straightened her posture and looked straight ahead, but not at him. He found no light in her eyes like he did before.

A low growl rumbles from his chest before he tugs her swiftly into his embrace, locking his arms tightly around her. He won’t let her go. If he has to chain her by his side for the rest of his life, he will.

“I don’t care about our status. I love you,” he emphasized the three last words. He pulled away abruptly and cupped Y/n’s face to force her to look straight into his eyes, “I love you, Y/n.” His large hands gently tighten around her head, emphasizing his words. “I. Love. You. You, Y/n.” Satoru’s eyes softened and their touch lightened, “I have loved you for a long time and all these years.”

Y/n shut her eyes, tears spilled down her cheeks. “Satoru…” she wept quietly, “can you love someone like me? I am damaged.”

“Nonsense,” he growled, “you are not damaged at all.” Satoru was aware of the societal stigma associated with a woman perceived as ‘damaged’. Society would label her as such because of the limp she now bears.

“I am selfish,” Satoru whispered. “I am the reason why you now bear this limp for the rest of your life and I should do the right thing and let you go,” his fingers brushed her hair behind her ear, “but I cannot.”

“No my Lord – “

“But it is my life and my heart that I will offer to you,” his eyes stared deeply into her soft hazel ones, “I will give you everything I own, everything I possess,” he wiped her tears away, “so please, be with me. Stay with me. You are all I want. What I need to live.” He pressed her palm to his lips, “marry me, be my Lady, Lady Gojo.”

Y/n shut her eyes, tears rolled down her cheeks before she let out a soft sigh. She opened her eyes, and this time, they filled with hope, “you still wish to marry me even though I have no family and dowery to offer to you?”

“Yes. I have everything for us,” his blue eyes twinkle brightly. “You only need me and I only need you.”

She smiled, “yes, I only need you. I would love to marry you, my Lord.”

. .

“What are you doing?”

Y/n froze as she poured water to fill the tub. “I am getting the bath ready?” She answered warily, she wasn’t sure why the head maid was stunned.

Sumiko quickly marched forward and gently took the bucket out of her hands, “my Lady, if Lord Gojo hears about you getting your own bath ready he will fire us all.” With a hand motion, four other maids entered the bathroom and began filling the tub with hot water. “I understand you have done this all your life but starting now, it will be far different. You must let us know and we will prepare it for you.”

Y/n nodded speechless as Sumiko guided her to the living room, “please wait here, my Lady. Give us five more minutes, we will have your bath ready.”

“Of course,” Y/n waited patiently until a voice informed her that her bath was ready.

Y/n was amazed that within five minutes they were able to fill the large tub with water and added essential oil that calmed the air in the room.

Putting her cane aside, she began to undress before entering the tub. Releasing a gentle sigh, she lowered herself further into the water until she was completely submerged.

Emerging slowly above the water’s surface, she gasped at the sight of Satoru standing before her, naked.

She gawked at his toned chisel body before looking away, cheeks reddening. Her arms crossed over her chest. She looked up at him again when he moved to step into the tub, her eyes catching a glimpse of his manhood, semi-erect. “My – my Lord…”

Satoru submerged himself up to his chin and moved towards her until he was in front of her. “Satoru.”

Y/n avoided his eyes, “o – okay…”

His lips curve upward, “say it.”

She looked into his eyes, confused.

“Say my name, Y/n.”

“S – Satoru…”

“Again.”

“Satoru.”

“Again.”

“Satoru. Gojo Satoru.” Y/n growled slightly frustrated at his persistent requests.

Satoru let out a chuckle, “that is all you can call me.”

“Don’t tease me,” she murmured, looking away.

Sitting down, Satoru grabs her legs and puts them on his lap. “But you look so adorable fluttered.” He grabbed her right foot and began massaging it. His grip tightened when she tried to pull away. “Relax, Y/n…”

She bit her lower lip and stopped struggling. “I’m – I’m not used to this…”

“Not used to what?” His thumb pressed into the arch of her foot and smiled when she let out a soft and quiet moan. “Not used to being pampered?”

“Y – yes…” she nodded, “having… things done for me… it is weird, my L – Sa – Satoru…”

A smile tugs the corner of his lips, “well, get used to it my love, you are my queen and you deserve to be treated like one.” His fingers shifted to her ankle and then her calf, and slowly his fingers reached the scar. He heard Y/n’s sharp inhale. “I was stripped away from you, I was weak then and could not protect you…” his thumb rubbed the long scar. “I am sorry.” He lifted her knee gently above the water and for the first time, he was able to see the horrendous scar. “If only…” his voice croaked, “if only you received the best care…” then you wouldn’t have a limp now, Satoru swallowed the rest of his words in silence, pressing his forehead against her knee. “Nothing will ever harm you again, I promise. I’ll protect you.”

A small hand lifted his head, “I believe you.”

Like a puppy, Satoru leaned into her palm. “I have waited for a long time to be with you again, I won’t ever let anyone take you away from me.” He moved closer to kiss her lips softly.

Y/n cupped his face, bringing him closer.

Satoru shifted over to situate himself in between her legs, his fingers tracing along her inner thigh until they reached her sacred moist spot. The tip of his fingers tickled her folds, his eyes on her, attentive to her reactions.

She let out a soft sigh, one of her hands trailing down his arm and to the hand waiting for her permission. She peered up at him at the same time as she guided his finger to slip past her folds. Her breath hitched at the intrusion but he continued to push his finger deeper inside her.

His heart beat loudly and rapidly as her warm and soft walls clenched around his finger tightly. Instantly, his cock became erect, begging to replace his finger.

Y/n’s soft whimpers encouraged him to pump his finger faster until he was easily slipping one finger through her tight hole, he added another finger. “Am – am I the first to touch you like this?”

“Yes. Yes, Satoru…” she confirmed, easing his anxiety away. “You – you are the only one I’ve ever wanted…”

His crystal blue eyes gleamed, and she left him speechless. She could make him weak to his knees for her.

His fingers continued to thrust in and out of her, her whimpers gradually turned into moans echoing softly throughout the bathroom. He pressed down on her clit, circling the needy nub until she trembled under his touch.

Her small body curled up, eyes shut tightly as her small hands covered her mouth to prevent her moans from leaking.

Satoru chuckled lightly to himself, finding her adorable.

Very gently, he withdrew his fingers and let out a shaky breath.

“Y/n,” he called her name in a pleading tone, she opened her eyes and stared into his darker blue eyes. Her eyes drop down, seeing his other hand fisting and stroking his hard cock. “Give me your permission, Y/n. Permit me to take you, and make you mine?”

Without hesitating, she nodded, “yes, Satoru – my body is yours…”

Satoru’s radiant smile caused Y/n’s heart to flutter; in her eyes, he was the most captivating man.

“I have been waiting for this moment and I cannot wait a second longer.” Satoru easily lifted her out of the water, stepping out of the tub. He set her down on her feet, an arm wrapped around her waist as he reached for her yukata and helped her slip it on. Once it was in place, Satoru swept her off her feet, carrying her like a child in the crook of his arm.

“S – Satoru!” Y/n exclaimed, wrapping her arm tightly around his neck. It shocked her that he could carry her with just one arm.

Without covering himself, he walked down the hall naked until he stopped in front of a door. “This is our room.”

Y/n gasped at the size of it, it was a large room filled with decorations and furniture. Against the wall was a platform bed.

“But we aren’t married yet?”

Laying her down in the middle of the bed, Satoru hovers over her, “we will soon. As soon as I can orchestrate it. I don’t want to wait another second without you being where you belong, in my arms every day and night.” He brought her hand up to his lips, pressing her knuckles to his lips. “I know I am being greedy, but please, don’t deny me.”

Y/n’s lips curve into a smile, “how can I? I could never refuse you before, how could I now?”

His head rests against hers as he closes his eyes and murmurs, “I can’t believe you’re really in front of me.”

Y/n’s nose intimately brushes his, “I can’t believe it either… it has been so long…”

The second Satoru opened his eyes again, they were once dark and filled with lust. His hand loosens her yukata, revealing her beauty. He first pecks her lips, chin, and chest before stopping at the valley of her breast. Both his hands grasp her bosom, groping them.

Y/n’s legs widen to accommodate his body, she gasped each time she felt something graze her sensitive clit. “’Toru…”

He missed his name as he was distracted by her perky dark pink nipples. Unable to decide which one he should first suckle, he opted for the left side first.  He had been dying to taste her small nipples the moment he saw them during their bath.

Satoru moaned, swirling his tongue against it. He peered up, watching her face twist in pleasure.

Y/n whimpered when he shifted to the other nipple, she couldn’t believe how turned on she felt just from him suckling her bosom like a baby.

An image of a baby, with platinum white hair and blue eyes appeared before her imagination, her heart wanting nothing more.

“’Toru…” Y/n implored, “g – give me a baby… put a baby in me – please?”

When Satoru’s eyes bulged, Y/n felt foolish at her request. She looked away, hiding her face. “Ignore my request…”

Her eyes widened when she felt something push in between her legs, push into the passage where his fingers were thrusting in and out of moments ago. This time, it was of something bigger and thicker.

“Shh,” Satoru purred, slowly inching his cock deeper into her pussy. His body tensed at her tightness, thinking he had loosened her up enough to accommodate his cock.

He nearly lost his control at her request to put a baby in her. If he was honest with himself, the idea of children wasn’t on his mind. For several years, all he wanted was just to reunite with his love once again. To hear her innocent request, he was willing to oblige. He will give her as many of his children as she wants.

Satoru groaned when he could no longer push further into her pussy, she had taken all of him, just as she was meant to. He glanced between their now sweaty bodies, they were one, a unity. “Haa,” he choked, he shifted his weight to his elbows and knees so he would squish her. She was so tiny compared to him. Staring down at her, his whole body dwarfed hers.

He let out a husky chuckle, “my love, you humor me. You say that it is too early to share a room because we are not married yet but you request for me to put a baby in you…”

“Don’t – don’t tease me,” Y/n stammer, blushing. “Oh – Satoru… you’re – you’re so big…” her nails dug into the skin of his arms. She has been educated that the first time being intimate would bring discomfort but with time, it would bring nothing but pleasure. Letting out a deep breath, she relaxed her body the best she could. She looked into his dark eyes, “I love it…”

Satoru’s ears were ringing as he tried to control his urge to thrust. He was nearly coming undone at just being inside of her alone, he didn’t know how much longer he could hold off once she allowed him to move. “Love – love what?”

“I love how you feel… inside me,” she rested a hand against her bulging abdomen. “Here… I can feel you here.”

“Oh, Y/n…” Satoru groaned. “Please… let me move…” he begged.

Her arms wrapped around his neck, “do as you wish.”

Satoru kept a steady slow pace at first, giving her time to adjust to his movements. He was attentive to her moans and the way her body reacted before speeding up his hips.

The room filled with their sweaty skin slapping skin.

“Going to fill you up… fill you with my seed… give you my heir…” Satoru whispered hotly into her ear. His arms slipped behind her back, hugging her close as he neared his orgasm.

“Yes! Yes, Satoru!” Y/n chanted, widening her legs so he could impale her deeper.

Satoru’s body anchored her petite one down as his lower region was the only part pounding deeply inside her. The bed rocked with his hard and heavy thrusts.

“Ah,” they gasped in unison.

Lifting Y/n upward, he settled her on his lap, still embedded deeply inside her. She clung on to him while his cock continued to convulse.

Her head buried into his chest, she mumbled something he couldn’t understand.

“Hmm, what did you say?”

She lifted her head, her face flushed from their passionate lovemaking. “It was amazing…”

Satoru let out a laugh, Y/n joining him with her giggles. “I’m glad… you enjoyed it. There will be plenty more of it…”

. . .

E/N: This is going to be literally porn with a plot.

>>> @queenelleee @mfreedomstuff @erintaro @callmeraider @chaotic-fangirl-blog @wolffmaiden @cloud-lyy

[sgiandubh]

What choice is there for you to make? Caitriona is legally married to Tony. It's her choice not anyone else's. Sure you want to believe Sam and Caitriona secretly have something on, your belief is your choice. Her choice of partner is hers, and it's not Sam, really none of anyone else's concern or approval. Enjoy and celebrate your beliefs, but beliefs are not always rational nor true. No one on this subject knows the truth about Sam, the shippers, the gay onlys, the man whore-tellers, the SamSaviors. No one, which is the way he wants it. No one knows and no one will.

Dear Choice Anon,

Unlike many of your Mordor peers, I feel a half-baked effort towards questioning, in your submission that wants to be cheeky and smart. And is, instead, sophistic and predictable.

I was baking something, in the meanwhile. I always cook when I need to think carefully about something, from a distance. My hands are quite good at it and my brain is free.

And so, I thought. I thought about how you people always feel the urge to cross lanes and come here peddling your #silly wares. I thought about how you came here on a Sunday, Mother's Day on top, and how sad (empty?) life must feel for you. Instead of going out for coffee in town, smelling a rose, baking a cake, laughing around, cheering on your favorite team or hugging Mom, here you are. Battering a perfect unknown person's mailbox, for the sake of a woman who does not even know you exist and, most probably, does not even care. Same applies to S, by the way - but unlike her, he might probably care about you, provided you buy whatever he has to sell.

The Marriage Certificate argument is a fallacy and you know that very well. You grasp at a piece of paper, oblivious to the whole schizophrenic show the Happy Couple puts out there for everyone to see. I can understand that, Anon: you are a conformist, soothed by a black & white reality, even where and when it's plain to see things are anything but. You need reassurance and you hate anything that might reach out of your tiny box, even at the expense of your own critical sense. Congratulations, Anon: you are perfect fodder for all the demagogues out there and so, so easily fooled. I have more thoughts about it, but I am in a cheery enough mood and really unwilling to humiliate you further.

Unless you are S himself (hi? 🤣), his PR or his lawyer, you have no right to presume what he really wants or doesn't want, what he really intends to do and what his thoughts and feelings might be. On any given matter, from the trivial to the important. We can only guess and/or speculate, based on our own life experience, our own critical sense, our understanding of the world. And also based on many other things that are NEVER discussed publicly, which is the right way to do, if you really care about someone's private life. You see, unlike people on your side of the fence and no matter what the Original Troll always says, we never did anything of what you accuse us of. We never started flaming wars just to self inflate our importance (probably because we live rich, loving lives on our own). We never accosted their entourage and then blamed in on 'The Others', without ever substantiating those very serious accusations. And we never came to your lanes to send hate or sow doubt.

Do we make mistakes? Oh, aplenty. We are human, Anon. Come back when you are ready to ask yourself some real questions about all this charade. It is an honest, but almost rhetorical invitation. You won't, simply because you despise the very idea people could think differently and you never, ever wonder why. It would clash with your own fantasy. And this, this is something you will never be ready to face, Anon.

PS: despising the very idea people could think differently also clashes with the very idea of having a choice. The implications of your own shortcoming are much, much wider than this context. But that is not my problem, Anon. After all, you also have a choice to remain as you are, and who am I to hinder you?

[samwisethewitch]

Something I've been thinking about lately: In conversations about being intentionally child-free, I see a lot of people talk about how much they resent constantly being told that they'll change their minds someday. And yeah, that sucks. When you tell someone that they'll regret their choices or go back on them someday, you're telling them you don't trust them to make their own decisions. And that's a dick move.

But what I see left out of a lot of these conversations is the fact that some people do change their minds about kids, and that is also okay.

People change. Our priorities and our values change. Someone identifying as child-free at 20 and then realizing at 30 that they actually do want to be a parent doesn't invalidate other people's decision not to have kids. It doesn't even invalidate that person's previous decision. They're growing. They're changing, and that's okay. Healthy even.

When I was 18, I felt very strongly that I would never marry and never have children. For me, this was a reaction to growing up in a religious environment where women were second-class citizens, and what little autonomy/independence single women had immediately went away when they got married. And once you had kids? Well, once you had kids, your personal life was officially over and your identity now started and ended with being so-and-so's mother.

If your only model of marriage and parenthood is a nuclear family where the husband is in charge and makes all of the decisions while his wife does all of the housework and childcare and not much else, OF COURSE you wouldn't want to get married or have kids! My thought process at 18 was basically, "Well, I want to have my own money and make my own choices and have an identity outside of being a mom, so clearly the family life isn't for me."

I'm 25 now. I'm married. My husband and I both kept our own last names, and we maintain separate bank accounts. I have a job that I'm good at, and a lot of people know me from my work. I still have my own money, make my own choices, and have my own identity. None of that went away when I got married. All that's changed is that I have a partner and best friend that I decided to do life with, and we had a ceremony and signed a piece of paper to make it official. We're not quite at the having kids stage yet, but it is something we both want someday.

Me wanting marriage and kids now doesn't invalidate my decision at 18. When I was 18, focusing on my education and career was absolutely the right choice for me. I needed to be able to focus on myself without considering how it would affect a spouse or kids. Eventually, I realized marriage and parenthood can look a lot of different ways. I realized I can decide what they look like for me. I don't have to follow the model I grew up with. And I realized I do want raising kids to be part of my life, just in a way that looks different from what others might expect.

This is a process a lot of people go through, especially women and femmes. If you're in the middle of it right now, just know that you're allowed to change.

And of course, a lot of people don't change their minds. A lot of people who identify as child-free at 20 still don't want kids at 30, 40, or 50. I've met people in their 80s and 90s who never had kids and don't regret that decision. My point here is that some people changing their minds about something doesn't mean it's not a good option for other people.

(And, let's be real, unfortunately a lot of people go the other way: they think they want kids until they have them. That's way more complicated because now there's a whole human person involved who is dependent on them for care and this definitely deserves its own post, but the best advice I can give is if you're young, you need to give yourself time to figure out what you want before committing to anything.)

[kurosstuff]

Nico Robin x Reader: Reenactment of a Dream

Warning(s): none its all fluff

I think this is one of the most lighthearted fics I've written- not sure

Spending time in the library with your girlfriend was a daily thing - sitting curled up beside one another while she read aloud to you in that smooth, calming voice almost always sent you into a nap. The way she ran her fingers through your hair as she red(was it her actual ones or her devil fruit? You weren’t too sure)

“Enjoying this book, dear?” She hummed, stopping her reading - she gave a knowing glance your way as you curled deeper into her lap, nodding in agreement.

Before she could respond, the door opened - familiar taps hitting the ground. “Hello Chopper,” she smiled fondly at the doctor who ran in holding a book - rushing to the other side of the couch. Sitting up sleepily, you looked over at him, smiling

“Hi, you two! Wait -” he froze for a second, looking at you both. “Am I interrupting something?” After learning he wasn’t- he smiled once again at them

“Look!” Showing them a fairy tale book the cover being one Robin couldn’t put her finger on. “I really wanna recreate it” doing his best puppy eyes to the two of you. The two of you broke- even though you’d agree to watchever he’d ask of either of you. The two of you nodded in agreement

“This!” Showing the pages to them- Robin glanced over to you. Eyebrow raised.

-

Almost two hours since then- the three of you rushed around the library getting things set up for the reenactment of a “marriage” the thought sending butterflies to Robin’s stomach. Couldn’t even fight off the smile. Shaking out of her thoughts, she helped pull some bigger books down for Chopper.

Robin looked over at you. Marriage - marrying you. It didn’t seem like a bad idea at all. She’s never thought about it much - never thought she’d get the chance. She thought the same about having a family and a lover, and she’s here with that now. Life is weird, she guessed. Following Chopper when he came back he smiled up at her “You’ll be the bride of course! So here, ” a napkin cut into a veil poorly tapped together to put around her head. She smiled fondly. Kneeling down, he put it over her head, laughing even though it didn’t stay on all the way.

“Now- um,” pulling a piece of paper out to read, Chopper smiled brightly. “Wait out there -” pointing to the door, “then I’ll give you the signal to come in!” Walking her to the door, Chopper quickly pushes her out hearing your voice before turning and yelling at you to not look at her - that’d it ruin the whole marriage thing.

Sitting outside the library, she heard you and Chopper rush around, getting everything ready. Even though this was a fake marriage(something she had to keep reminding herself of), she couldn’t help but be nervous. Excited even marrying you. Walking down the isle to you- she could see it.

“Robin! Come on!”

Entering the room, she raised an eyebrow at the books laid out on either side, forming a walk way- how the cushions formed some chairs as much as they could- her eyes met yours as you gave a shrug mouthing how you’d fix it later on. A napkin cut crudely into a tie around yours and Choppers neck. Who tried his best to have a serious look on his face(but with how he hid his obvious smile- he really was super serious), she smiled

Smiling softly at the image as she walked down towards you - the crew in the seats watched her - as she tearfully walked down the aisle towards you. Holding your hand a loud hush went over the crowd- she blinked- right. Their in the library. The words ‘this isn’t real- your not marrying them’ echoed in her mind - but she really wished it was.

“OK, um -” Chopper started - stumbling over himself. “we can skip the vows, I guess?” He mumbled, not totally understanding what that was “ok! So , Y/N. Do you take Robin as your- uh- as your wife?” Stumbling yet again as he read the words aloud. Looking up, smiling at you-

“I do”

Robin almost stopped breathing- what if one day this does happen? Where she actually gets to marry you? Would she be ready? Would you? With the way you looked at her - the way she felt at peace. All smiling, she felt like the day she realized she loved you. The day she knew you loved her.

She wants to spend the rest of her life with you- and this helped her feel more confident in her choice. Her heart pounded in her chest as she could imagine the cheers after this. The cheers when you and her kissed after finally getting married.

“Robin, do you take Y/N as your spouse?”

“I do”

“Now you may kiss the bride!” Leaning forward, you placed a gentle quick kiss to her lips- before you could pull back hands held you still as Robin kissed back

She hoped this dream would come true.

[incarnateirony]

Me: HOW DID I ONLY GET AN 85 ON THIS TEST

Oh. It's not 85%. It's 85 points. of 85 points.

Without getting too specific, everyone at the center is getting retrained and tested, because one department in particular ranked problematically low for government standards, so we all get to suffer or something. My department in particular is the highest ranked, and me and only a few other people got 85/85. It's considered top 5% in the country lmao

Can everybody grok WHY it's so funny to me that I've got schizoid delusionals justifying psychosis with their invisible friends up my ass going "NUH UH" when I point out they're acting batshit?

Like what do I do for a living kiddos.

There are approximately 8,045 people in the country that do my job. Of them, only 402~ know what I know as well as I know it, whether they have phds or not, and even less, about a quarter of those (100~), have the actual success rates live that I have. And these witches gonna sit here screaming like tumblr can relativize it. Yeah, sure, you could meet over 120,000 people and not run into someone more qualified but you're just gonna piss around on tumblr pretending you aren't acting apeshit.

No, you legit all need therapy and medication. New medication atop your other medications. Medication changes. And, if that doesn't help, major behavioral therapy and possible inpatient treatment if you've proven unable to control yourselves while out on the streets.

There are 100 people in the country qualified as me to say, you act like people that will shortly be in my inbox having a mental breakdown, I hear your stories and behaviors all day from people about to jump off a building. And a surprising lot of you are probably going to be there within a decade of your life if you don't address your internal issues that make you behave this way, because eventually, your fiction and fantasy bubbles WILL pop. There's just one inconsolable and irredeemable bitch that's first on the list. But you can't live in fandom, roleplay and personal headcanons your entire life. You can hide there for a little while, but not your whole life. And you sure as shit can't build an honest relationship or marriage out of it. Hence the problem someone's having facing the full force, not just slices of concessions to pieces of, reality.

Like no, no half, no compromise, no partially able to have a cult to me, no Au headcanon where I'm not me, no AU where their delusions were ever real, we're not doing this, because it makes them end up here every fucking time, because they're lost without chasing my light and seething at the fact that I have it and they don't, because they objectively refuse self inspection, self control, or personal accountability. They don't even have another direction. Their only direction the last three years ended up in funny octopus jibberish plagiarism and cocaine bears, and a failed suit that wasted everybody's time. There is no universe where stalking me for 3 years to every end of the earth is balanced or sane behavior. None. Zip, zilch, no matter how you spin the paper or who you reblog to justify it. You're just batshit girls.

[tennessoui]

hi all of your aus are amazing! pls what happens with divorced!obiwan and the twins?

hey!! sorry this took so long i had to think of an appropriate cliffhanger

this is a continuation of this ficlet and this ficlet, where divorced!obi-wan accidentally acquires a partner and a set of twins.

(2k WHOOPS)

The twins are not, and probably have never been described by anyone except their father, angels. They take to Obi-Wan as well as Obi-Wan takes to them, which is to say that all three of them watch each other suspiciously until one day Luke launches himself off the top of the fridge--how the fuck did he manage to get up there--and Obi-Wan drops his morning toast in a frantic bid to catch him.

After that, Leia and Luke apparently decide he is Another Anakin Who Is Just Around A Lot Less But Is Better At Reading Bedtime Stories and deign to treat him as such.

Obi-Wan decides that he’s going to have a heart attack by the age of fifty. Do all children see a childproof house as a challenge?

It somehow takes both a longer and shorter time to win over Anakin’s favor, mostly because Obi-Wan isn’t sure what the man’s thinking at any given moment. He seems to blow hot and cold depending on how he woke up or how the work day goes. Some days, Obi-Wan comes home from campus and Anakin and the twins have waited to eat until he’s there. Sometimes they’ve eaten and there’s a meal under foil on the stove just for Obi-Wan.

(“I don’t know how you do it,” Obi-Wan tells him one night after the children are put to bed. “I mean, work from home with your job, mind the children, and cook?”

“They made me head of the R&D department a few months ago,” Anakin admits, taking a sip of his second glass of wine. “So I’m doing a lot more checking through other people’s work instead of making my own. It just means I can do that and make something edible--no, really, you just can’t cook, Obi-Wan, I’m not the best either.”

“Do you miss getting to make something other than food?” Obi-Wan asks eventually, giving himself enough time to recover from the sound of the other’s giggles.

Anakin shrugs languidly. “It’s better salary, and I’m the youngest ever in the company to have the position. Means I’ll pay off my student loans quicker, same with my mom’s hospital bills. Doesn’t matter what I want.”

Obi-Wan’s chest hurts and he wants to lean across the gap between their chairs and place his hand on Anakin’s arm, but they don’t know each other like that. It’s only been a month and a half since they moved in. Still. “It always matters what you want,” he insists. “And I think you’re amazing.”

Anakin blushes bright scarlet and takes a huge gulp of wine, and Obi-Wan wonders if this is a throwing-yourself-off-the-fridge break through.)

(It’s not because the next day, Anakin doesn’t say a single word to him, which bothers him more than he’d like to admit.)

(“Am I in the wrong for wanting to get along with my housemate?” Obi-Wan asks Quinlan despairingly during their office hours that he should be using to grade papers. Instead all he can think about is Anakin Skywalker and the goddamn cold shoulder he’s been getting from the man for the past three days.

“Yeah,” Quin says absentmindedly, marking something with a red pen before looking up at Obi-Wan’s outraged intake of breath. “I mean, no. I mean, sorry, Obi, what are we even talking about now? Is it still your hot new roommate with the two kids? Because that’s what we were talking about an hour and a half ago.”

Obi-Wan crosses his arms and leans back in his chair. “I’m just not sure I appreciate--”

“And you said he’s not been hanging around in the living room when you get home? But he’s still leaving you meals in the kitchen? And you’re upset about the free food?”

Obi-Wan is upset at the lack of Anakin’s presence, but he thinks that’s probably not the right thing to say here.

“Maybe he’s just tired?” Quinlan puts down his pen and rests his chin on one of his hands as he looks at Obi-Wan. “From the kids and the job and putting up with your moody ass. C’mon, Obi, what’s really getting you worked up?”

Obi-Wan purses his lips and stares at the desk in front of him, but he had come to Quinlan for help. He should at least be honest about what’s eating at him, even though he knows how silly it will sound when given a voice. “...Satine always waited up for me,” he mutters. “Until she didn’t.”

Quinlan’s quiet for a worryingly large amount of seconds, before he reaches out to pat Obi-Wan gently on the arm. “Oh, Obi,” he says pityingly. “Repeat after me. You cannot make your new roommate your rebound from your thirty year marriage.”

Obi-Wan scoffs. That’s not the problem at all. “That’s not the problem at all,” he says, not defensively in the slightest. “I think I’m just worried about the children not having enough structure in their lives.”

“Right,” Quinlan says, not quite managing to hide the skepticism in his voice. “Then you should talk to him. For the sake of the children.”

Obi-Wan will absolutely not be doing that, but it’s a nice thought.)

The real turning point in Anakin and Obi-Wan’s relationship happens five months after the Skywalkers move in.

Anakin and Obi-Wan are in the living room. Anakin is trying to braid Leia’s hair while Obi-Wan tries to pretend he isn’t watching. From the kitchen, there’s a very, very loud crash and the sound of something shattering.

Both adults leap up from their seats immediately and run to the other room.

Luke is standing in the epi-center of disaster, little face scrunched up like he doesn’t know whether or not to cry. At the sight of his dad and Obi-Wan, he starts to wail, moving forward and reaching for Anakin.

Obi-Wan, who is wearing shoes inside the house (a point of contention between himself and Anakin), grabs Luke roughly and picks him up by the armpits before he can cut his feet on the glass. He hands him over to Anakin to soothe, stepping further into the kitchen to find the dustpan he keeps in one of the pantries.

It’s very obvious what broke, though Obi-Wan can’t for the life of him understand how Luke got ahold of Satine’s heavy cake stand. He can definitely understand how Luke dropped it, as the thing was ridiculously heavy.

It had been one of the only things left in the house that had been Satine’s. She’d left it, and Obi-Wan had been too bitter or petty to point it out to her. Yes, it had been her mother’s. No, keeping it had not made him feel any better. But it’s not like Satine ever baked anything anyway.

Good for Luke, actually, for doing what Obi-Wan never could bring himself to do.

He grabs the broom and dustpan and marches back to the pieces of shattered glass. Anakin has placed Luke on the counter, ostensibly to check to make sure his feet are fine if the boy would ever let go of his father’s neck. Leia is peering around at the mess on the floor.

When Obi-Wan comes back and starts sweeping everything away, she darts forward to pick up a rather sizeable chunk.

“Don’t touch that,” Obi-Wan says sharply, much harsher than he intended. Leia drops it instantly and scurries back to her father, eyes wide and sort of watery. Oh, fuck.

“Hey,” Anakin snaps immediately. “She’s just trying to help and Luke didn’t mean to break--whatever that is.”

Obi-Wan holds up his hand to cut Anakin off. “I’m not mad,” he promises all three of the Skywalkers. And he’s not even lying. He’s really not mad, hasn’t even thought to be mad at this last piece of proof of his relationship with Satine shattering on his kitchen floor. “I just don’t want either of you to cut yourself. Glass like this can be very dangerous and none of you are wearing shoes.”

“Promise?” Luke asks, untucking his red face from Anakin’s neck so he can peer up at Obi-Wan.

“I’m sorry I was a bit rough,” Obi-Wan apologizes, coming over and bending down a bit so he’s on the same level as Luke. “I was just worried about you. Promise.”

Luke sniffles but lets go of Anakin to throw himself at Obi-Wan, apologizing all the way.

“Hush,” Obi-Wan says as Leia scrambles up his leg, vying for his attention. With his hands full of children that aren’t his, he raises his head to look at Anakin who’s watching them with a very strange expression on his face. He tilts his head toward the broom and then down to the kids in his arms. “Come along,” he tells them both. “Leia, I’ll finish your braids if you’d like.”

“Braid my hair too!” Luke demands with a pull on Obi-Wan’s shirt.

Luke’s hair is floppy but awfully short. “I’m sure we can figure something out,” Obi-Wan says generously, leaving the kitchen.

“I suppose I’ll just clean this up then?” Anakin calls sarcastically behind them.

“Thank you, darling,” Obi-Wan responds.

There’s the sound of something else breaking, but it’s not Obi-Wan’s problem at the moment.

(A year later, Anakin mentions something over morning coffee about looking for a new apartment, now that he’s got everything straightened out. “We’ll get out of your hair,” he says, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I’ll look today since it’s my day off.”

Obi-Wan doesn’t want to examine why that idea makes something curl tightly in his stomach, making him feel vaguely nauseous, but it does. On his way out of the house, he unplugs the router, and then after a second of thought, takes it with him just in case.)

(Quinlan laughs his head off when Obi-Wan sheepishly puts the router down on the desk in front of him. “It’s a bad market right now,” Obi-Wan says defensively. “I’m just looking out for him.”

“Obi, I mean this in the best way possible, but there are at least four professors in the psych department that would probably love to do a case study on you.”)

(Two years after the Skywalkers move in, Obi-Wan is running late for a meeting with the head of his department. The man is stepping down, finally retiring, and Obi-Wan thinks that perhaps he’ll be tapped as the new head. It would mean dropping some of his classes, but it would be worth it.

“I made you a breakfast wrap,” Anakin greets him at the door, holding out a paper bag. “It’s got that salsa you like in it.”

The salsa Obi-Wan likes is the mild version of what Anakin and the kids eat, but Anakin treats it as if it’s from another planet entirely.

“Good luck!” he says with a sweet smile, also passing Obi-Wan a travel mug of what’s hopefully fully caffeinated tea. Obviously Obi-Wan needs it. He got perhaps two full hours of sleep last night, tossing and turning and thinking about this meeting and now he’s running late and his tie is crooked and none of his favorite sweater vests were clean.

“Thank you, dear one,” Obi-Wan mumbles, mind somewhere else. If traffic isn’t too bad, he could still be on time.

“Text me how it goes!” Anakin chirps, following Obi-Wan out the door to stand on the front porch with his arms crossed in an attempt to fight off the early winter chill.

“Yes, of course,” Obi-Wan replies, turning around to brush an absent-minded kiss to Anakin’s lips before hurrying to his car. It’s a twenty minute commute. If he gets his preferred parking spot and runs to the department building, he won’t be late at all.

Is that too much to hope for?

He starts the car and pulls out of the driveway, looking back in the rearview mirror to see Anakin standing frozen on the porch. That’s strange, usually the other man can’t stand being out in the cold.

Obi-Wan gets to the first stop-sign out of the neighborhood before he realizes what he’s done. It’s lucky that he’s already slowing down, because he slams on the brakes. Did he--

Did he kiss Anakin? Did he really kiss Anakin as if he does it all the time? As if they were in a relationship?

Oh shit.

Frantically, he pulls out his cellphone from his bag and checks to see if he has any new messages. He doesn’t.

Oh. Shit.

[lubdubsworld]

Better Man.

              ~~~~We might still be in love, if you were a better man. ~~~~

Taehyung x OC 

Rating 18 +

Angst. 

Implied Infidelity in the past. 

Chapter 1 ~ Walk out the first time. 

"Are you okay?" My mother's soft voice came from behind me and i panicked, hurriedly swiping at the tears that were streaking down my face. Heart pounding, I grabbed a bunch of tissues from the dresser, patting my face down hurriedly , making sure to keep my back to her. 

"I'm fine, Mom." I said , voice surprisingly steady as I turned around to smile weakly at her. She stood near the doorway, a petite woman of fifty with greying hair and too many wrinkles. 

I thought she looked older than she was and i knew I had a part to play in that. Sighing, I tried not to cry more, moving to gently take my son out of her arms. 

He was four years old, fast asleep and smiling sweetly in his slumber. He had downy black hair, feather soft and warm brown eyes. He looked incredibly like his father, the resemblance stunning even though he was so young. I stared at him some more, laying him down on the bed and brushing the hair off his face. 

"Are you sure there is no mistake? Taehyung ssi wouldn't hurt us like this..." My mother said, sounding broken and I felt a pang of sympathy. But also annoyance. 

Us. 

Us....like she had an equal share in the hurt I was feeling.

 I was the one getting a  divorce but my mother made it sound like it was personal to her as well. Like somehow, the fact that she now had to meet her friends and tell them that her daughter was divorced could compare to the pain I was feeling. To the sheer anguish that was filling me.

To be fair though, my mother had loved Taehyung very much. Her favorite son-in-law . My sister's husband had been a mean drunkard who had brought a lot of misery to our family. Taehyung by contrast had been a loving, filial son in law. He had cared deeply for my parents, paid for my father's funeral ( even though the man itself was nothing more than a drunk , cheating fool who had abandoned us )  and he had been the most kind man . 

I swallowed. 

Maybe , you should have forgiven him. Maybe , you shouldn't have divorced him . So, he slept with another woman. Fine.  It was one night... just one night. you should have gotten over it! Was it worth it to spend all these countless nights alone? To break your mother's heart a thousand times over? 

 The funny thing was, i had forgiven him. Maybe right after I had found out. He had stood there, looking shell-shocked and horrified and his eyes had begged me for forgiveness and my heart had cracked , the way it always did whenever I saw him in distress. And when he had looked me in the eye and said, "  I’m sorry,  Jang mi..." I had forgiven him right then and there.

 But it was the forgetting that was hard. The fear that it would happen again. The fear that somehow, I was the reason he strayed. And that kind of fear can be debilitating. For the first three weeks, I'd tried to pretend it hadn't happened. I had tried hard to see him the way I had always seen him but it had been impossible. everytime I saw him, my heart had broken anew. It had been hard but I had to accept that things would never be the same. That I would forever look at him and remember what he’d done. That I would forever wonder if he would do it again. 

So we had done the wise thing. 

At first a break.

 A few days apart to get our head on straight.  Then I’d found a job and I had to move closer to the office to make the commute easy. And then suddenly, I wasn’t seeing him even during the weekends , to spend time as family for our son’s sake. And just like that , a whole year had passed and we  were separated. Only meeting to hand Hoshi over to each other. 

"I'm sorry mother." I said softly. I knew that she blamed me, a whole lot for the separation. 

People with children  didn't leave each other over infidelity in my country. You hit your husband, denied him from your bed maybe but you didn't break up a family over one night of bad decisions. You just didn't .

But for me, it was beyond the act. It was the broken trust, the shock of knowing that some other woman had given him something I couldn't, the fact that he had even wanted it from another woman had been enough for me to crumble on the inside.  

But, none of it mattered now. 

He wanted a divorce. Officially. Wanted to end it for real. 

It was jarring, how badly it shook me. I felt unaccountably lost and confused and disoriented. I couldn't imagine not being Taehyung’s wife , i realized with a stunning sense of self realization.

 Call me irrational, but apparently, I couldn't stop thinking of him as my husband , even after two years. Soon he wouldn't be my husband. 

He would be  my ex -husband. 

i hated that word. 

It had such a plethora of negative connotations to it. When you hear it , you just brace yourself for unpleasantness.

 Because it is unpleasant. A marriage ending, a family breaking, feelings hurt , hearts shattered,  angry words tossed...its all a very unpleasant experience for everyone involved. 

An ex husband was seldom a harbinger of happiness, more often a reminder of choices gone wrong, regrets and wasted time. and I didn’t want to associate Taehyung with a word like that.

Taehyung who was still the kindest, warmest human being I knew. The best father in the world. 

I felt like someone had sucked all the strength out of me.

I didn’t really want to think about the call I’d gotten from Taehyung last night. An appointment with a divorce lawyer.  It had been followed by an apology because apparently, someone in the law firm had let the info leak. And now it was all over the sleazy tabloids that fed on people’s misery. 

It was impossible to escape it too, Taehyung was famous. An idol. And actor. The country's sweetheart. And he was the epitome of perfection. The beautiful, talented actor with an impeccable record of well behavior. 

I knew that literally everyone on the planet thought he was a literal angel. 

 I remembered how much , by contrast, I had been hated when I'd married him.

I could just imagine how much more it would all be this time around. And i wondered if it bothered Taehyung too. Did he perhaps wish he’d never met me

? 

It had been sheer luck that we had met.... 

In fact, if Jimin's  car hadn't broken down right outside our home on that cold December night, I wouldn't have even met Taehyung. A great cosmic shift, somewhere some butterfly flapped its wing a certain way and suddenly, Jimin’s car ran over a thumbtack and his phone was dead so while he tried to fix the damage , Taehyung  just had to knock on our home and I had been the one to open it. 

Boom. That was it. Love at first sight. 

 I had been a high school kid and he had been barely nineteen. Fresh faced and cheerful , the struggling idol from a small company. He hadn't been surrounded by fans or chased by saesangs. He hadn't had security tailing him. No daesangs, BBMAs, or acting awards. No blockbuster movies to his credit , no chart-bursting songs either . 

And I had fallen in love with that version of him. 

The hardworking, talented young man who worked twice as hard as anyone around him. 

 That's right. You've loved him for fifteen years.  So it's understandable that you're upset. Now, maybe you can move on too. Go on a few of those blind dates that Jiyoung is always setting you up on. Go live your life instead of being a zombie. Get a hair cut. Dye your hair red. Do something to get your life in order. 

"I still find it hard to believe that he would want a divorce. Jangmi yah... did you tell him you forgave him? Tell him you wanted to try again..." My mother said again and the distress in her voice was equal parts heartbreaking and exasperating. 

"Mother, I don't want to try again . We aren't married anymore. It's over, whatever it was between us. " 

 Whatever it was. 

How cruel, to have all that love, all that affection  reduced to a phrase like that. 

What a pity. 

"But what about Hoshi? He needs his father..." My mother cried out and I willed myself not to snap. She means well, I thought miserably. 

"He has a father. Taehyung is an excellent father and you know that. Don’t start that again.” 

My mother sighed.

"I still feel that this wouldn’t happen if you tried a little bit. He’s a good boy. Such a good boy and you could never do anyone better. Why are you so full of pride, Jangmi... so prideful...you should be a little humble. Think of the kind of man he is...where would you find a man like that ? And moreover .... Taehyung loves you. i know he does." My mother said stubbornly. 

I sighed, feeling my fingers shake from the effort not to scream. I wasn’t strong enough to have this conversation with her. Not now. Possibly never. Taehyung did  love me. Had never made any effort to hide it. But sometimes, love wasn’t enough. It just wasn’t. 

And I wanted to yell at my mother she was at least partially to blame for me walking out on Taehyung. 

My father had left us for another woman , when I was twelve. I had seen the toll it had taken on my mother and I just knew that I would never let a man do that to me. My mother had later confided in me that it wasn’t the first time. He had done it before. A lot of times. And my mother had always forgiven him. Let him back into our lives. 

And one night, drunk on soju she had confided between hiccups, ‘ I wish I’d walked out the first time.” 

And that had stuck with me. 

Walk out the first time. 

If he cheats on you , walk out the first time. Don’t stick around waiting for him to do it to you again. Walk out the first time. 

 And so I had. 

“ Should I talk to him? Tell him you’ve changed your mind? “ My mother began and I felt my patience snap.

“No!! Could you just, for the love of God, stay out of this, ma? It’s over. Our marriage is over and it has been over for a long time. A piece of paper doesn’t really change that, does it? Its not my fault you can’t get over it but that’s a you problem. And you need to fix it yourself.  “ I shouted. 

My mother immediately recoiled, eyes shuttering down. 

“Of course. You know the best. Who cares how anyone else feels, right, Jang Mi? You always know best.” She said softly, and I exhaled, shaken. There it was. The guilt trip. It was never ending. 

Please... I just need to go now.” I moved to grab my bag, :” I need to go get ready for the meeting with the lawyers tomorrow. You can keep Hoshi with you tonight.  I’ll come pick him up after I’m done and then I’ll drop him off at his father’s place.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

With Taehyung and I, our break up hadn’t been terrible. 

It hadn’t been terrible because our own penchant for being terrible had always been very minimal. We didn’t do swearing or fights or threats and it always annoyed our friends that we got along so well. That it was so easy for us to forgive and move on with each other . That we were the one couple who didn’t hold grudges or bring up past mistakes. 

Which is why, when we did break up, none of our friends had tried to change our minds over it. They had accepted it rather calmly, shocked at first because it was so out of the blue but not opposed to the idea itself . They just trusted us to know the right thing to do because we were easily the most mature , the most level headed couple in the entire group. We were usually the sounding boards , the voice of reason in whatever petty conflict our friends were involved in . 

So when it was us, needling a little advice, a little guidance, our friends had been woefully ill equipped to help. They had merely hummed and nodded and empathized. Maybe that was another reason I’d left. I hadn’t considered the alternative. No one had asked me to consider the alternative. 

Our friends had watched us drift apart watched us break up, but they hadn’t really asked us  why.  

Because if something had caused Kim Taehyung and Jang Mi to break up, man, that must’ve been a really huge issue. 

So the break up had been amicable. Gradual and slow but mostly amicable, eased by our mutual love for our son. We wanted him happy and he was happy when we were happy. So we put on a front, laughed and joked in front of him and let him have some semblance of normalcy in his life. 

It wasn’t easy. 

From him,  it had been nothing but a mess of   heated glances, touches laced with intent and eyes begging forgiveness . every gaze of his was a silent scream for a second chance that I was not at all ready to give. 

Because for me, the raw hurt and anger and frustration that bubbled up every time I saw him , it had nowhere to go. It stayed churning in my gut, made everything bitter and unpalatable and I wanted to hurt him for hurting me. How could I think of a second chance when the hurt from the first, was still so fresh, an open wound festering. 

Self esteem in tatters, I had hated him fiercely. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The meeting was at his company, and I arrived at nine in the morning, with a few more minutes to spare.  I knew the place like the back of my hand, was here at least  once a week either to pick or drop Hoshi off and I knew that the conference room in the third floor was sound proof and cut off from the rest of the building for extra privacy. 

Which was a little too late because I’d found two tabloid newspapers waiting outside my apartment this morning. 

I opened the door carefully, surprised to see Taehyung sitting in one of the chairs, bent over a sheaf of paper on the table and next to him a leggy girl in a small skirt hovered, fingers resting lightly on his shoulder, bent at the optimum angle to show him her curves. 

I sighed, looking away.

It was way too early for this. 

“Mia!” Taehyung’s voice made me look up, and I watched as he stood up, pushing the chair away and moving to me . He was easily the most good looking man in the country. And he looked so good at thirty five that it was impossible to look away from him. 

He was dressed in a pale blue shirt and black slacks and it never amazed me, how good clothes fit him. 

I took in the broad shoulders, thick arms and the lean waist, the carefully styled hair and the breathtakingly beautiful face and sighed when he kept coming closer, hands held out. . 

Of course, the customary hug. 

i let him wrap his arms around me, my face buried in the comforting warmth of his body, the scent of his cologne filling my brain . He always smelled so good it made my heart hurt. I tried not to let myself get carried away. Tried to remind myself that this wasn’t anything more than a.....

A facade ? Or was it? Was his affection genuine? 

Was I just too cynical?

I shook my head, pulling away and smiling a little at the genuine venom in the leggy girl’s face. 

“Are you okay? Where’s Hoshi?” Taehyung brushed the hair off my face, eyes warm and I wondered if he’d forgotten we were here to get a divorce.

 Whenever we met, Taehyung acted like we were still together. 

No, that wasn’t it. 

He just didn’t act like we had broken up. He was affectionate and open and cooperative. It always left me in a sort of limbo, unable to navigate our relationship with clear boundaries. There were no line to stop myself from crossing, because he just didn’t draw them. 

“ Ms. Lee says we just have to go over the details like the alimony and the custody and the division of assets and then we can just proceed. Get it all finalized.  “ He said casually, when I moved away and sat on the chair opposite him. 

“Okay .” I said casually. 

He smiled and turned back to the girl next to him.

“I’ll join you after the meeting Lisa.” he gave her a nice wide smile and the girl practically bloomed under the attention before bowing curtly in my direction. I watched her walk away, slightly amused.

“Bit younger than your usual type.” I commented , glancing at him. He gave me a look.

“I’m not dating her.” He shrugged. 

“Does she know that?” I retorted.

 It was dumb. Uncalled for. I was being a bitch, really but the urge to evoke some kind of reaction from Taehyung was something I’d never really out grown. I liked getting under his skin.

Taehyung sighed and gave me a little smirk.

“Are you jealous, Mia mine?” He teased. 

It felt a little like someone had dug a nine inch dagger straight  into my heart. 

That stupid nickname. 

God I couldn’t bear it. 

Swallowing i looked away. 

“Sorry. “ he said quietly, a few seconds later. 

I nodded curtly. 

“Don’t do it again.” I said hoarsely. 

“Why not?” He whispered gently. 

I groaned. 

“Taehyung... “

“it’s just a name...why does it bother you so much?” He whispered. 

“The same reason you’re asking me for a divorce.” I said softly.

He blinked.

“Mia...”

“Because we both know its time to stop.” I said quietly. “ Stop dancing around each other , stop doing...whatever it is we’ve been doing these past two years and give our relationship a name. “ 

“I’m not very fond of labels.” He shrugged. I glared at him. 

“Well tough luck. Labels are good. Labels are great. They let you draw boundaries. “ I retorted. 

“You sound like you’ve had enough of me.”

“Well, haven’t you had enough of me?” I snapped.

“Not even close.” He leaned forward gently, eyes pinning me to the table with a gaze so strong he may as well have used his body. And it didn’t help that two years wasn’t enough time to forget how it would feel if he  had  used his body. How it would feel to be stretched out on that table, him on top of me, hands working my clothes open, lips kissing their way down my jaw. 

I could almost taste him, taste the minty freshness of his breath, feel his tongue in my mouth, the hardness of him inside me. My thighs clenched because I hadn’t gotten laid in two fucking years and even if i did, no one would ever compare to the man in front of me. 

“Mr. Kim? Mrs. Kim? “ 

The lawyer’s voice broke the spell and i straightened, swallowing. Ms. Lee had walked in , and I watched her close the conference door behind her before locking it gently. 

She was young, dressed in a business suit , a no nonsense bun and had small round framed glasses. She gave me a nice smile, shook hands with us both and placed her briefcase on the table before glancing between us. 

“Shall we begin?” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s Note : its gonna be a bumpy ride. 

[hexpea]

Ch. 4 - The Contract

AN: A certain Zenin will be a part of this story a little bit, so things with him will be a little dark - just as a forewarning.

You could barely sleep that night, tossing and turning as your heart fluttered repeatedly. You felt so stupid to have become so suddenly smitten, thinking that there was no way he felt the same. He was so stoic, serious, and intelligent. You probably weren't his type.

The next morning, you and your brother woke up late - as to be expected from a late night party. Satoru looked terribly hungover but proud of himself while he toasted up a bagel in the kitchen, you sleepily joining him.

"You enjoy your night with Nanamin?" Satoru teased, watching you attempt to pour a full carton of orange juice into a glass - spilling some on the counter, feeling completely unfocused from your lack of sleep.

"None of your business!" You sassed your sibling, as always. He was always super nosy about your business in that regard, constantly teasing and sharing details of his own nights that you didn't need to hear. But something about his tone was a little different here.

"Well I'm telling," he mumbled like a child as you wiped the counter with a paper towel.

"Why would you tell? You didn't tell any other times," you put your hands on your hips as he removed his bagel from the toaster oven. The heat burned his fingertips so he dropped it back on the little metal rack that came out of the appliance, putting those fingers in his mouth to cool them with a pouty expression.

"I don't know Nanami," he tried to give some sort of excuse. The excuses he thought of weren't good enough, he knew that, but he saw the way you looked at Kento. He didn't want you to get hurt either by Kento or by Naoya if he were to find out. There was also the possibility of your heart being broken when you were forced to be with someone you didn't truly love. Satoru was truly out for your best interests emotionally even if he didn't do it properly.

"Yeah, well it's still none of your business," you repeated, also unsure of what to say. It was as if there was this ball of tension from the unsaid things clouding your thoughts.

"It is if it interferes with the contract," Satoru hesitated, knowing how much you hated the stupid contract between your parents and the Zenin's. You swore that something like that was illegal, but you knew that the families didn't care.

"Naoya's a piece of shit," you sighed, sipping from your glass of orange juice. Satoru had started smothering his bagel in butter and jam. "He's never attempted to actually date me. You'd think that you'd try to do that with someone you're supposed to marry. It's clear we're not going to have a real marriage. We'll probably have, like, an open relationship as long as I pop out some kids." Satoru winced at the thought, also not liking the contract between the family elders.

"I'd be careful with him," Satoru guided, "I've heard he's much more of an asshole than that from what I hear."

"I'll believe it when I see it," you rolled your eyes and took another sip, your brother finally able to take a bite out of his bagel.

"Do you...know anything about Nanami?" You inquired, lifting an eyebrow to scan your brother's face.

"Not really. He's quiet and reserved 100% of the time," Satoru giggled, taking another bite, "really all about rules and stuff I guess. We don't really click so I never really get to interact with the guy. I mean, I certainly try, but he doesn't usually take the bait."

"Thanks," you sighed, disappointed in the lack of information. "You wouldn't have his...number, would you?"

"Y/N..." Satoru used a scolding tone.

"What?!" You whined, "sure I'm technically engaged, but I'm young...I want to experience stuff. You of all people should know that." Satoru had a slightly saddened look on his face. You seemed so defeated.

"I don't," he finally answered, "but he's always on campus during the week. If you can catch the early train like you did on Friday, you might catch him."

"Thanks," you replied in a defeated tone.

"You're usually into one night stands, though," Satoru's voice was fully of warning, "you never usually go for a second round. Remember...be careful."

"Okay, Dad," you rolled your eyes and downed the rest of your OJ.

On Monday, you impatiently got through your classes - rushing to get the train on time and praying Kento would still be on campus when you arrived.  You rushed through the main courtyard, nearly sprinting with your eyes peeled. Just as you rounded the corner into one of the classrooms, you noticed the familiar crop of blonde hair. Your breathing hitched and you snuck back around the corner with your back flat against the wall, hoping that he didn't notice your urgency.

"Y/N?" You heard Kiyotaka call out. He, Yu, and Kento were all hanging out, likely just after the last class of the day. Kiyotaka and Yu were both holding a rather intense, enthusiastic conversation while Kento was busy with the same book you saw him have on Friday.

"Oh, hey...guys," you awkwardly came around the corner, giving a sweet wave as your cheeks turned pink from the embarrassment.

"What are you doing here?" Kiyotaka asked kindly, a sweet smile of his own on his face. Kento's eyes slightly widened when he saw you, but his eyes quickly went back down to his book as he listened.

"Just...looking for my brother. We always ride home together, so..." you quickly answered, happy to have some sort of excuse to be there.

"Oh, he might be upstairs. There aren't any senior classes on this floor," Yu spoke up, sounding a bit confused. Considering how often you came for Satoru, they figured you'd know that by now, which you did.

"Right, sorry, just going a bit too fast for my own good," you gulped, "I guess I'll see you guys later!" You waved again before dismissing yourself. You were so disappointed in yourself, wasting the only time you'd get to see Kento.

Just as you exited the classroom, you bumped chest-first into another familiar figure. He looked slightly down at you with a livid, disgusted expression.

"Zenin-sama..." you nearly stuttered, stepping back. Naoya smoothed out the front of his uniform and shook his head.

"What are you doing here, Y/N?" He asked aggressively, stepping closer to you so that he could better tower over your frame.

"Here for Satoru," you tried to calm yourself but his gaze was so piercing you felt your body lightly tremble.

"You know that he's upstairs," he didn't believe your answer one bit. This wasn't because he was intuitive or that you were a bad liar. It was because he always thought the worst of you. "So...what are you doing here, Y/N?" The snarkiness in his tone was ever-present.

"What does it matter to you?" Your body finally got over the shock of suddenly seeing what was technically your fiancé.

Naoya flattened his expression. "The contract between our families matters," he hissed through clenched teeth.

At this same moment the three boys stepped out into the hallway to begin leaving. Kento left last, pausing for just a second upon hearing Naoya mention a contract. You hadn't noticed their departure since your back was turned on the classroom door.

"You're mine," Naoya continued, grabbing your cheeks and squeezing them tight together until your lips were pursed together.

"That's not what that contract means," you yanked your face from his intense grip.

He quickly grabbed your face once more, nearly interrupting your sentence. He then smashed his lips to yours that were pursed again from his grasp. He loosened the grip just enough for his tongue to move past your lips. You grabbed his wrists with both hands and tried to yank him away, but he was too strong.

"As far as the elders are concerned, it is," he pulled away from you, a trail of spit still connecting you. He took a moment to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand, then running his thumb across your bottom lip.

"Fuck you, Naoya," you lowered your lids and clenched your fists, just barely whispering the slur.

"Ah, ah, ah," he waved a finger with a sadistic smile, "that's no way to treat your husband." You felt your face heating up.  What you couldn't see was Kento turning around to look at you both after Naoya had said that, walking slowly down the hallway behind Yu and Kiyotaka. Naoya looked up and made eye contact with him before his eyes fluttered back down to you. "You like each other, don't you?" At this point Kento was now out of ear shot after rounding the hallway corner.

"What are you talking about?" Your head snapped behind you to see if you could see what Naoya was seeing.

"You and Nanami Kento," he crossed his arms and lifted an eyebrow. Your cheeks immediately turned pink, your expression surprised. "Caught you red handed, you snake," he leaned forward and narrowed his vision at you.

"Nothing happened between us!" You declared, shoving him hard in the chest. He stumbled back a few feet with a furious look on his face.

He was quick and strong, grabbing and quickly slamming you against the wall with your wrists in his grip. You felt your skull knock against the hard wall, a goose egg-sized lump definitely going to form.

"You best behave," he whispered into your ear, his hot breath covering your face, "if you act like that once the license is signed you won't see the light of day." His hostility made your hair stand on end.  "I'll just throw you into the back of my closet, simply breeding you until you produce an heir. Once your done nursing, I'll have your head removed."

"My family would never allow it," you grimaced at his ugly description, teeth grinding together.

"You think you're valuable other than just being a walking womb?" He chuckled, finally releasing you after finding humor. "You have no power, you're not valuable once you've fulfilled the contract." You stayed silent, having just no more to say to the wicked man. "If I see you around him again, there will be repercussions." He then walked past you, running into your shoulder purposefully in the process.

You were just frozen from the trauma of the interaction. You knew he was a piece of shit on a regular basis, but to be jealous...he was a whole other animal.

"Y/N?" You heard the voice of your brother now. You had no idea how long you had been standing there, but it was long enough for Satoru to come searching for you after you weren't at your usual meeting spot. "What's going on? Why are you crying?" He quickly approached you and wiped away one of your tears with his finger.

"Nothing," you muttered, using the tips of your fingers to wipe away the rest of the wetness on your face. You turned and began walking down the hallway to leave.

"Nuh-uh," Satoru placed his hand on your shoulder to slow you down. He then caught up with you and matched your pace. "Nothing makes you cry. Something's going on."

"You were right about Naoya," you felt the lump in your throat that had once disappeared return.

"Oh," Satoru nearly stopped but chose to keep up with you instead, "did he...hurt you?"

"No, but he threatened to," you sighed, finally composing yourself somewhat. "All I wanted was to come say hi to Nanami. Naoya read me like an open book. I really am just a vessel, aren't I?" You looked at your brother as the two of you now strolled outside.

"What do you me-" it took him a second, "no way. Y/N..." he had to admit that really was what the contract was about.

"Please don't try to deny it for my sake," you breathed out hard, already knowing that your brother would lie to cover up the truth to make you feel better.

"You are," he said bluntly, causing a crack to form in your heart. It was similar to a sharp, stabbing pain in your chest - true hurt. "You are to our parents and to the Zenin's, but you're also your own person. And I don't see that of you." You stopped dead in your tracks from his kind words, now standing in the middle of the main courtyard. "To me, you're my kid sister that I like to drive nuts...but deep down I think she's the coolest person ever." He stood in front of you with supportive hands on your shoulders.

"Shut up," you blushed with a small smile on your face. You angled it downward to hide it from him, not wanting to give him the satisfaction.

[lonelyasawhisper]

The Queen Tapes Part 1: Brian May

Mick Houghton, Circus, 28 February 1977

Stargazing Guitarist Brian May Turns the Telescope on Himself and Talks About What He Sees

IT'S STRANGE, because the people who were in the Others at school then, were kind of rebels who weren't interested in the academic side and were disapproved of by the establishment. I admired them because they got on with what they wanted to do, which was play music. [The Others was Brian May's first rock group; they made a single in 1964, 'Oh Yeah']

I was very much the academic then, partly through inclination and partly through upbringing, so, while I played in various groups, none of them ever got anywhere because we never actually played any real gigs or took it that seriously. I was envious of those people at the time for making the break, yet now they've all gone back to respectable jobs or studying – computers, dentistry, one of them was working for EMI – whereas I did it the other way round after completing my studies.

In a way, their experience, although they were really messed around by their managers, made me want to commit myself more because it was a world I wanted and knew I had to deny myself at the time. It was two or three years after that before Smile, my first serious group, got going, but by then I was equally involved academically and felt it was a waste of time not to see it through, having come that far (in astronomy – on the movements of interplanetary dust). As you know, even now, my PhD is virtually complete, but there's no way I can finish that, given the pressures and commitments of Queen. The fruits of that endeavor have come out, though. The papers have been published and are available to the scientific world, so it isn't wasted. The only reason to complete it would be to get a piece of paper saying that I'm a Doctor. That's not very crucial, is it? Whereas with Queen, I'm still in the position where I've got to pursue it to its conclusion, if there is a conclusion.

It's hard to see what that could be. There's the concrete terms like measuring it by success but those aren't the reference points to choose. I guess there will come a point when I feel we, or I, or both aren't progressing. Then I'll have to think seriously about what I'm doing. It's like my progress as a guitar player has slowed down considerably in terms of actual technique, but where I'm advancing is in the ideas and general feel for what I'm doing. And then there's the sense of an audience which grows up on you, which is something you never bargain for at first when you are just playing for yourself from some internal drive. Once you discover people are actually listening, it becomes a completely different world. Playing to people becomes worthwhile in its own sense, so the fact that my music still gives other people pleasure has become a major factor in my continuing.

I suppose it seems like there's a rule that Freddie (Mercury) and I divide up most of the albums in terms of writing and give John (Deacon) and Roger (Taylor) one song each, the way Beatles' albums seemed to be planned, as some suggest. John is probably the slowest writer, he's newer to it, but at the same time he's written a hit in America, which I haven't and that's great. Roger has more material than the group's done but it's just a question of choosing material to give albums the right balance. There are no hard and fast rules.

The creative balance has shifted to become more of a group thing. With the enormous time that we spend in the studio it's inevitable that a lot of the time all the group aren't there together, so the contributions that we make have become more complementary. I think this is a very important time for the group, where it would be easy for us to go off and do each's separate thing but our strength, and of any group, is that we realize how to use each other in a complementary fashion. That's the most important thing we have.

It's a very delicate balance, though, very precarious like a marriage, because knowing people that well you could be destructive as well as constructive. I'm very conscious that the balance could be easily upset even by something from the outside which threatens the band internally. That's why it worries me if the media concentrates on me or Freddie to the exclusion of the others.

John and Roger are so crucial to everything we do, they are not only a rhythm section. Nothing is farther from the truth. It's like John is the quiet one, all the press releases and so on always say that, and it's true, but in many areas he's the leader more and more these days. I visualize that the balance will change further internally as time goes by...adjust to individual changes. It probably comes across to our hard core followers, but the danger is with our mass audience who, say, only buy the singles, and don't understand the group. I'd like everyone to be aware of the group as a whole.

Queen were very late developers. Like, I was contemporary with the people in the Others, that we were talking about, who had a recording contract in 1964. We started late in the big world of music. We were not let loose on the public until a lot later. We were playing pretty interesting material in the late Sixties. I could play you tapes of Smile which have the same general structures to what we're doing now. There was no way to take it any further at the time. It was hard to get an in without fully committing yourself. I'll say one thing for punk rock at the moment: it is creating a way that groups can get a start, which in itself is very healthy. I think maybe people are being pushed into the limelight too soon, and there's a tendency to concentrate on image to the exclusion of the musical area.

We never had that trouble because we were just totally ignored for so long, and then, completely slagged off and slated by everyone. In a way that was a very good start for us. There's no kind of abuse that wasn't thrown at us. It was only around the time of Sheer Heart Attack that it began to change, but we still got slagged off a fair bit even then. I'm always affected by criticism. I think most artists are even if they say they're not. It doesn't matter how far you get, if somebody says you're a load of shit it hurts. But that was just press response, because for the rest it was building up very steadily. Queen II sold really well over a longish period and coincided with us breaking ground concert-wise.

It's hard to think what could give us the same sort of buzz as that initial recognition by people who would come to see us regularly around the time of our first album, when they had no reason to come to gigs other than something "special" they saw or got from the band. Recently, Hyde Park was a high...the occasion rather than the gig. You know, the tradition of Hyde Park. I went to see the first one with the Floyd and Jethro Tull – great atmosphere and the feeling that it was free. We felt it would be nice to revive that but it was fraught with heartbreak in a way 'cause there were so many problems. Trying to get the place for the evening was so hard, trying to get it at all was hard enough. We had to make compromises which we don't like and it got very political. The whole day ran to schedule but for a half hour, which was remarkable considering the hassles at every stage, but that half hour meant we couldn't do the encore. It sounds trivial I know, but that's the part of the show where we feel most at home. We've got the approval and can really enjoy ourselves and to be denied that, having worked up to such a pitch, was very hard to take. I was very depressed. The encore isn't just a set piece, it's a bonus thing for us as well as the audience. It doesn't matter how tense the gig has been – the sense of release is always welcome.

I hate to think of music as a competition, but that element is there and only a limited number of people can draw big audiences, so I suppose music is competitive in that sense. Whenever I meet a group on the road, though, I don't feel that. You just usually want to get close to one another. Competition can be good in some ways. As you know, we're taking Thin Lizzy as a support, and Lizzy as a support band is a real challenge. Obviously they will want to blow us off the stage, and that can be a very healthy thing. You feed off the energy of others and I know that if they go down a storm we're gonna go on feeling that much higher. It makes for good concerts. We've had it the other way round, we gave Mott the Hoople a hard time on our first tours here and in America.

Then, there's the "we're the biggest" kind of rivalry between groups, which is largely a media thing, but it does mean more 'cause it's easy to get a buzz out of success. You need new things to get excited about, so we're doing New York's Madison Square this tour. It's a thrill and a challenge, but after that I suppose we'll want to do something bigger and better. We're aware of the dangers, because obviously you can lose something along the way if you start doing really big places where you can't really project. To say something for us I think we've done it gradually. We haven't tried to run before we could walk. The last tour we could have done bigger places, but we chose to play smaller places for a few nights instead, with one or two large venues only, to get the feel of it. Now we feel we can really cope with a tour like the current one. Everything will be that much better. We'll be that much better – larger than life.

Retrieved from rocksbackpages.com

[bluewinnerangel]

can you pls explain the tweets that happened on sept 28th 2013?? i just saw someone say it got debunked but i didn’t know that??

Oh god ehm. I'm sure this has been covered. I think I mention it in a post I linked earlier today, so maybe you saw it there? That in turn links here too. But I'll give it a go to debunk from scratch...ish.

Putting a cut in because I'm really good at annoying people with long posts <3, but here we go:

I am late to the party so anyone that was actually actively following the events at the time feel free to chip in.

These tweets happened on/around sept 28 2013:

Harry's tweet is a lyric from Joni Mitchell - My Old Man. The tweet is the line that describes how they do NOT need to be married, which I mean would be counter-intuitive to tweet after just getting married. The song is a really cute lovesong, and says they don't need to be married to be together/their love to be real, (which hits different if you're not legally allowed to get married):

My old man, he's a singer in the park He's a walker in the rain He's a dancer in the dark We don't need no piece of paper from the city hall Keeping us tied and true no, my old man Keeping away my blues

He's my sunshine in the morning He's my fireworks at the end of the day He's the warmest chord I ever heard Play that warm chord, play and stay, baby We don't need no piece of paper from the city hall Keeping us tied and true, my old man Keeping away my blues

Louis' and Ash' tweets? I mean? Yey I just got married so I lost my voice? Sad face? Again that would be a... strange joke to tweet.

El's also just... could be anything, if anybody knows the context of that one be my guest.

Anne's was live tweeting during the X-Factor and clarified that too

Ed's best friend got married on a Saturday before articles published this info on October 6th 2013, those articles saying it was yesterday, so October 5th. So I guess that makes it not a proper debunk, but I mean what makes more sense: 1) Harry and Louis getting married on September 28th, Ed tweeting about it, then having another best friend get married exactly a week after, not tweeting about that, but attending it publicly, singing at it, bladieblah. Or 2) his tweet was about this best friend Jake, the article is wrong and this wedding was actually the saturday before that on sept 28.

Last and most obvious one:

They were in Perth, Australia that day where same-sex marriage wasn't legal back then. (x, x)

But to me none of that even matters because Harry clearly really loved this theory a little bit too much, and entirely unhinged on its 2 year anniversary, screaming about anniversaries, dancing the single ladies dance on stage, aggressively serenading Louis, and whatever else we have missed. And it's not like oh oopsiefloopsie what a funny coincidoink because #2YearsOfLarryMarried was trending and articles about it were floating around. I don't think this is the first and probably not the last headcannon formed by the larrie-fandom that most likely wasn't true, but then they liked it and ran with it anyway. Especially Harry lol. And then ofcourse not to mention the many years worth of 28-insanity that followed and is still getting more and more ridiculous today, how Louis is now the one that has publicly claimed it, and how Harry has been subtly dropping 28ths everywhere for years as well, although ofcourse these 28's don't have to relate to the 28th of September.

But then there's Harry again putting this Hollywood area code on instagram (may 2015) which people quickly linked to the date (9/28). Yes it's a zipcode. But also yes nearly everything these lil shits do seems to have double if not triple meanings. It's just a boat. It's just his doncaster football number. It's just a hollywood sign. I'd say he's aware of the impact of that sign he posted because then we have him using it again on a shirt years later (on >>september 27, 2019<<) You can't see in the pic but the teenytiny text on the shirt is an adress, 6367 Selma Ave., Hollywood 90028:

There's probably more shenanigans at or around that date through the years but this got long enough I think.. Hope that helped!

[ssoojinism]

love lies || one - kth

pairing ; married! taehyung x reader

genre : angst, mature (16+), infidelity

warning : cheating (do not read if youre not comfortable with this kind of trope), alcohol consumption, nsfw (16+)

plot summary : just when you’re about to experience the sweetest moment of your life, you learned that the man you fell head over heels is actually a married man to a one year marriage.

[next]

[series masterlist]

--

Him.

You saw him at the corner of your eyes, from across the room when he sent you a smirk that is enough to make your heart leaped out from your chest.

The colorful lights blinding your eyes and the loud stereos almost cause you to go deaf but it doesn’t matter when you couldn’t see anything else but him.

You felt a bit giddy as you tucked your hair to the back of your ears while listening to your friends chit chatting on some random topic while they have no idea that you are currently eyeing the said male who also keeping his eyes on you while sipping his alcohol.

“Y/N!” You jumped when Seulgi tapped your arms. You sent her a confuse look while your friend had frown on her face.

“Can’t you hear me? I’m going to the ladies with Chaein! Are you okay if I left you here?” she repeated, half yelling as the sound of the music in that party overpowering her voices. You nodded.

“Yeah, go ahead. I’m fine. Don’t mind me!”

Seulgi dragged Chaein along with her to the bathroom as they finally leaving you. Nervous, you spare last stares at the previous guy but it seems like he was busy talking and laughing in his own circle so you stepped back to take a seat at the bar.

The amount of people around you quite overwhelming, you couldn’t stop tucking or fixing your hair or sometimes you would chug on your drinks to loosen your nervousness.

“Hey,”

You flinched when a deep voice greeting you from your sides. When you looked up, you were strike by a stunning face standing next to you as he also about to take a seat.

It was the guy you were looking at before.

“H-Hi,” You stammered. The man suddenly reached out his hand towards you. “I’m Taehyung,”

You glance at his hand and his face before your lips curled into a tiny smile and took the hand for a small handshake. “Y/n,”

“I see your friends leaving,” He said. You let out a tiny chuckle — not sure which part of his statement sounds funny to you but you just did.

“Yeah. They went to bathroom. They probably coming back soon,” You wished they don’t. You are more than happy to spend your entire night with this gorgeous man right here.

Soon enough, both of you began to open up with each other, exchanging stories and experiences, sometimes giggling and laughing at either you or his funny stories or something.

Your phone suddenly let out a sound that you instantly went to check them up.

“I see you got a friend. GOOD LUCK SIS”

Seulgi and Chaein even sent a shaky selfie of them showing thumbs up that you are pretty sure they are giggling while making fun of you behind your back. You chuckled, not because it’s funny, instead you are planning how you going to get them next time you see them.

“Your friends?” Taehyung asked.

“Yeah. They left already,” You sighed, dropping your phone to the side. Taehyung rubbed the bottom of his lips before they kicked up into a tiny smirk.

“That’s bad but…” He slurred his words before he then added. “I don’t mind driving you home tonight,”

You pressed your lips into a thin line with slight tint of pink colored your cheeks. “Sure,” You replied.

--

The sunlight that sneaking into your room through the blinds landed on your face, causing you to stirred from your deep slumber. You ran your hand to the side, right on the spot where Taehyung used to sleep last night only for you to met with a cold, empty space.

You shot your eyes open.

Sitting up, your fingers brushing your hair to the back before you turned at the open blinds next to you, probably it was Taehyung’s doing.

Is he leaving already?

You let out a disappointed huffs as you slowly get off the bed to get your towels. You also didn’t forget to grabbed the dress and your undergarments Taehyung has thrown to the floor from last night. You couldn’t help but giggled shyly when the steamy scene replaying in your head.

His touch, his kiss, his moves. Everything was perfect. You don’t remember having a good time during sex but last night with Taehyung, it was probably one of the best nights you’ve ever experienced that you wish you could have it again.

Sadly, that’ probably the last time you ever see him.

…or maybe not.

--

You peeled the magnet off before lifting the piece of paper sticking at the wall of your fridge. Someone left a note on it and of course, it’s none other than him…

 Last night was great. We should see each other again ;) – Taehyung, 010xxxxxxx

 Your heart bloomed in happiness. You are going to see him again. What a wonderful news to start your day today that you began to spin around like a woman who were madly in love — which you probably are.

“Hello, hello! I’m coming in!” You shrieked when somebody suddenly invading your living room that made you to twist your ankle that you fortunately fell on the couch there.

“Woah, woman. Why are you dancing around like that? Are you going insane?” Yoongi joked. You shot him a glare as he once again observing you from the bottom to the top.

“Why are you not wearing pants? Ah, let me guess! You’re getting laid, isn’t it?”

“Shut up!” you grimaced as you stood yourself up meanwhile your bestfriend just chuckled.

Yes. This dumbass is your bestfriend. You’re not even sure how and why you calling him that to be honest. Perhaps because he is living next to you back then when you still live with your parents or perhaps because he gave you great advice, like an older brother? Is he?

But all you know that Yoongi is your closest friends and that he is the only human being that understand whatever the hell you are doing with your life. Although most of the time he just goes like “I don’t care whatever the fuck you are doing, I’ll just sitting here and support you,”

“What are you doing here?” You asked as you watched him rounding your kitchen counters. It seems like he brought a few groceries bag with him.

“Is the dick that good that you forgot you literally invited me to come and cook your breakfast this morning?” You finally remember. You did ask for him to come and make you breakfast because first, you thought it would be too lonely to eat alone and secondly, you’re just too lazy to make your own breakfast, even if it’s just cereal and milk.

“Ah, yes, sorry. I did forgot about it and yeah, his dick are amazing thanks for asking!” Yoongi snorted in disgust as reply only for you to curled your lips into a smile.

“If you are not helping, go and take a shower, you stink!” He continued with his nag. You responded with a long “okayy” before you got up and head your way to your bedroom to wash up.

--

“He was unbelievably beautiful, Yoongi! He’s like a walking Greek God, you know? He’s literally perfect in everything! Good looking, have a career, great in bed, gosh! He’s definitely not real!” You blabbered with your mouth full of food meanwhile Yoongi munching on his breakfast without words.

“Min Yoongi!” you whined. “You are not listening,” You sulked, jutting your lips out. Yoongi rolled his eyes.

“I am. I just don’t like talking when I was eating,” He said. “We’ve known each other since forever and you still didn’t know that?”

“I’m kidding, geez!” You tsked. Yoongi just know how to talk back to you and you always end up losing. You just couldn’t keep up with his roasting since he always choose to be straightforward when he’s communicating.

“What else do you know about him?” You slowed down your munching to look at him. “Is he single?” Yoongi added.

Hearing his question made you chuckle. “Of course he is,”

“Are you sure?”

You went silence. “I mean, he’s successful, good looking and more. Simply put, he’s perfect in everything. How can that kind of man going around without anyone by his side? It’s nearly impossible,”

Yoongi was right. You are pretty sure that there is a lot other women that had been lining up to be with Taehyung before you. There also some probability that someone had seized him up before you too.

“Better be disappointed now before too late, y/n..” Yoongi remarked at the same time finishing his meal.

You shook your head, your lips kicking up into a tiny, unsure smile. “I can trust him,”

“Sure. Whatever makes you happy, y/n..” Yoongi responds sounds like a sarcasm to your ears and you don’t like it. You are scared. You’re scared that everything Yoongi told you turned out to be true.

So you fished out your phone and dialed Taehyung’s phone number to send him a message.

From : you

Hey, it’s y/n! Just to tell you that I had your number saved.

It was less than five minutes when you received a reply from him. That was quick!

From : Kim Taehyung 🖤

Im glad. I keep waiting for your message or calls so I can do the same.

You drew a wide grin before sending a glance towards Yoongi who had his back facing you while he’s busy washing the dishes.

From : you

I wonder if we can see each other again anytime soon

From : Kim Taehyung 🖤

Ofc. When and where we should meet?

--

You keep checking on yourself through the small mirror of your compact powder before nervously waiting for Taehyung to show up. Sometimes you would anxiously pulling out your cherry chapstick and apply it on your lips, afraid they came out dry when he arrived or there is also times that you would sip on your coffee that it already reached half of the cup you were drinking.

While fidgeting with your fingers, you were greeted by a familiar deep voice from above, calling your names making you to whipped your head upwards.

The face you are waiting for is finally here. You smiled.

“H-Hi,”

Your chest began to pound again as you watched Taehyung taking a seat in front of you. He looks so fine in his two-piece grey suits. He then asked you what you’re drinking which bringing you back to the current situation.

“It’s nothing. Just coffee,” you said.

“Ah, unfortunately, I don’t drink coffee,” He pouted. You gasped. You silly! You shouldn’t pick a coffee shop at the first place then! Since he is the one that ask you to pick a place, you couldn’t think of any place other than this coffee house that has been your favorite spots long time ago. You had no idea that he didn’t drink coffee.

As if he could read your face, he quickly tells you to calm down. “It’s okay. I can drink anything cold,” He lifted his hand up to called for a waiter. You pursed your lips as you observing him making his order.

“Do you want waffles?” He suddenly asked again. You nodded. “Yes please. With chocolate syrup,”

“Yes, that one. Thank you,” The waiter then backed away with the orders. Taehyung turned back at you and flashed his warm smile.

“You just got back from your works?” You opened the conversation first. He nodded. “Yeah. It’s pretty hectic today. But I’m glad that we decided to meet today. I feel like the burden got temporarily lifted off my shoulders as soon as I saw you,” You shyly giggled.

Both of you then proceed to ask about each other days and more where you learn that Taehyung currently working as the one of the executives in a construction company named Youngsoo E&C. To be honest, you have no idea what he was talking about but seeing how he literally enjoying telling you his story made you listen to it with a stupid smile on your face.

“What did you do by the way?” He returned the question.

“I do illustration for children’s books,” You answers earn you a wide eye from Taehyung. “Really!? Wow, that was amazing!” You laughed as you can’t help but find his reaction as adorable. Then he added, “I enjoy drawing too,”

“Really?”

“Yeah. But it’s just a hobby and I think you draw better than me,” He humbly said that make you shook your head. “No way. Everyone has their own style. I’d love to see it one day,” Taehyung excitedly nodded.

“I will. One day,”

You smiled before something suddenly popped up in your head. Your previous conversation with Yoongi suddenly came into your mind.

“I mean, he’s successful, good looking and more. Simply put, he’s perfect in everything. How can that kind of man going around without anyone by his side? It’s nearly impossible,” Yoongi’s statement keep playing like it was a broken tape in your head. You shook it off before nervously looking up at him.

“Taehyung-ah,” He raised his brows as you chewed your bottom lips, your hands gripping the fabric of your dress nervously. “I was wondering if… if…”

“Your food is here,” Your words got cut by a waiter who suddenly appeared along with the food Taehyung has ordered before. Fuck. Not now!

It took her a few minutes to dropped the order before she begin to walk away and leave you and him alone once again. Taehyung on the other hand seems like he forgot about you which you also chose to drop the question altogether, pretending like it also never happened.

--

“So, did you get the answer?”

You dropped your exhausted self on the couch while Yoongi still perching at the counter, waiting for your answer. “Y/N! I’m talking with you,” You grunted.

“No, I don’t because I didn’t ask! Now, will you leave me alone?” You grabbed a pillow next to your head to buried your face into it. Yoongi let out a loud sigh.

“You fool. What if-“

“What if he has a girlfriend… blah, blah. Look, Yoongi. If he had one, he will act like he had one but he never did! I can count how many times he tried to flirt with me today!” You argued. “He’s definitely into me,” Your lips twisted into a grin but Yoongi doesn’t enjoy seeing you literally fooling around as if those are not a serious matter.

“That’s not how it work, woman!” He want to scold you but you had both your palm covering your ears and making a noise, mimicking that you refused to listen to his nag. It’s pissed him off that he jumped off the counter with a groan of annoyance.

“Whatever! By the way, Yuna is inviting us to her birthday party,”

You get up from the couch to looked at him. “Yuna? Cho Yuna?” Yoongi hummed. “Yeah,” Your brows knitted together in confusion.

“Out of nowhere? I mean, we don’t even talk to her back then,”

“Apparently, it’s also to celebrate her wedding anniversary too, so she’s feeling extra generous by inviting everyone from the alumni to her birthday party next week. Do you want a ride?” Yoongi offers. You nodded your head almost immediately.

“Of course. Thank you,”

Cho Yuna. You remember her. Yuna is that one famous, rich kid that literally had every boy in your college drooling over her. But, it’s understandable. She’s a complete package. She’s pretty, smart, not to mention, she’s the first ever girl that managed to seized the president position for the student council that traditionally would take boys as the leaders. You had to say, you have massive respects towards her. Who wouldn’t? It would be a lie if there’s anybody who’d say they never envy her. Even now, she’s happily married to the man of her choice too.

“Damn, I seriously wish I could have what she had,”

--

A week later

You rushed out from your apartment barefooted with pair of heels in your hand. Meanwhile Yoongi in his car keep on pressing the honk, not because to warn you for being late, he just did it to annoy the shit out of you which resulting you to get into the car with a groan.

“Can you shut up!? You’re so annoying!” Yoongi laughed as response to you as he starts to drive away from the parking lot of your apartment. You put on your black stilettos before you pulled down the sun visor to check yourself into the vanity mirror behind it. You fixed your hair by brushing it lightly, also tapping your lips to make sure the lip tint you’re wearing are applied nicely.

Yoongi who saw you enthusiastically fixing yourself giggled quietly that made you to look at him with frown. “What are you laughing at, dumbass?”

“Why are you fixing yourself as if you’re going for a date? It’s just a birthday party for God’s sake!” He snorted which had you to scrunched your nose.

“Mind your own business! I’m just trying to look good. For myself!” You grunted before turning your attention back at the mirror. Later on, you pushed the visor back to its place and leaned back after you are sure that you’re satisfied with your looks.

“Hey,” You suddenly spoke. “Remember when you had a big fat crush on Yuna?”

“Oh my God, shut the fuck up!” You laughed out loud, like really loud especially when you saw blushes appearing on his cheeks. “You are so fucking lame, Yoongi! I expected you to be ‘different’ but hah! You’re just like those boys that lining up to propose Yuna to be their wife,”

“Mind you! I’m not,”

“Hell yeah, you do,” You leaned your head on the headrest while releasing a deep huff of breath. “I remember you wrote a song using her as your muse. I had to say that it’s pretty adorable,” You teased and once again, you start to make another random throwback about his past that had Yoongi wishing he could kick you out from his car right now.

“Unfortunately, she’s married with someone that’s not you,” You patted his shoulders. “It’s okay, Yoongi. There’s someone better for you,”

Yoongi snickered. “You’re a bitch,”

About twenty minutes after that, both you and Yoongi finally arrived the hotel that held the party. Yoongi – to your surprise – was kind enough to help you getting out from the car, even helping you fixing the dress you wore.

“I know you’re going to whine like a baby if I left you helpless behind so,” He’s such an asshole…

When you arrived at the events where it takes places, your jaws dropped in awe. “Wow, for a birthday party, they invited quite a lot of guests,” You commented. Yoongi nodded in agreement.

“Not surprise. That’s what rich people do,”

Both you and Yoongi entered the hall and met with another load of guest filling up the room. “Now, what we’re going to do?” You whispered. Yoongi shrugged. “I don’t know. Eat? They prepared the buffets. Should we get them?”

“You go first. I feel thirsty so I’m going to look for their drinking booth,” He nodded. Yoongi then left you there to head to the buffet. You pursed your lips, trying to look around the crowd if you could see any waiter that carrying tray of drinks or something but you couldn’t seem to find one.

You are left with no choice but to lift your dress up to your ankles and splitting your way in between the crowds of people to look for them. Why the hell did she invites these people for a birthday party, like it’s a royal dancing party? Can’t she just have a normal birthday party like everyone else?

While you are trying your best to slipped in between those figures, you accidentally tripped on your heels that you lose your balance and almost fell forward but thankfully, someone in front of you are quick to catch you from falling.

“Oh my God! I’m so sorry!” You apologized, looking up at that person, only for you to gasped in surprise.

“Taehyung?!”

Taehyung looks confused as well. “Uh, y/n. Hello. I didn’t expect you…to be here,” He said. You grinned. “Oh yeah. The one that held the party graduated in the same college as mine so we pretty known to each other, I guess?” You explained.

“Yuna?”

You nodded. “Yup! Oh, hey. How did you know her? You’re her acquaintance too?”

Before Taehyung could answer to your question, someone had called his name out of nowhere. “Babe, who is that you’re talking to?”

Your face turned pale at the endearments terms you heard just now. And also the familiar voice too.

Not long after that, you saw Yuna appearing in a dark blue dress, matched with Taehyung’s blue black’s suits. You couldn’t believe your eyes when you saw the way she linked her arms, showing the rings fitting perfectly on her ring fingers. Your eyes then moved to Taehyung’s hand and he also had a similar ring on his fingers too.

How the hell can you not notice that before?

“y/n! Hi! It’s been a while,” She exclaimed excitedly. You turned at her with an unbelievable look but you tried not to make it obvious by forcing a smile, although you swear you can feel your face twitching as you felt your eyes also began to get watery.

“R-Right! I haven’t see you for a long time too,” You tried your best not to stuttered but you know you failed miserably. Yuna nodded.

“Yoongi came with you?” She asked.

“Yeah. Yeah, he’s with me but he went to look at the food.” You took a deep breathe before pointing at Taehyung who was standing silently next to Yuna. “This is your husband?”

Yuna chuckled. “Yup! Ah, hold on. It’s seems like you both know each other already. You know her too, babe?” She glanced at her husband, seeking for an answer. Taehyung who look like he didn’t expected to get thrown by the question seems like trying to find a words that make you to answer on his behalf.

“We do. We met just recently over some projects,” You lied. Obviously, it wouldn’t make sense. Taehyung is an engineer while you’re a children book’s illustrator. What kind of project involving an engineer and an illustrator!? But you don’t care if she caught you lying. At this point, the situation is too painful for you to keep up that you wish you could just run out from the hall and weep your heart out.

“Wonderful! Guess I don’t have to introduce you then!” She smiled. “Anyway, thanks for coming, y/n! Have fun while you’re here. The opening ceremony will start very soon,” You nodded while faking another smile.

“Happy birthday! And happy anniversary too!” Fuck, fuck. This is so hurt, you rather stab yourself to death than doing this.

“Thank you! We’ll get going then,” Yuna then brought Taehyung along with her. As they leaving, Taehyung spare a glance at you who standing there freezing with a tears rolling down your cheeks. You can see guilt painting his face but he obviously couldn’t do anything so he just going along with his wife to greet the other guest.

--

“Thank you so much to everyone who came to join us celebrating such a meaningful day for both me and my husband,” Yoongi turned his head to check on you who were awfully quiet throughout the night. He even noticed your red eyes so he decided to asked about it.

“What’s wrong with your eyes? Are you okay?” He questioned. You sniffed, shaking your head. “I’m fine, I’m fine. Keep listening. Don’t mind me,”

“Listen to what? It’s just welcoming speech. Come on. Tell me,” You couldn’t contain yourself from sobbing especially when Yoongi keep pushing you to tell him everything. You lowered your head, muttering something to him.

“That man next to Yuna…”

Yoongi looked up to the said person and saw Taehyung standing next to Yuna, flashing a tiny smile towards the audience. “Him? What’s wrong with him? He hurt you?”

You shook your head. “No,”

“Then?”

“That’s Taehyung,”

Yoongi trying to connect the dots. It took him a minute before he finally realized. “What the fuck?”

You cried into your palm. Yoongi sighed loudly. ‘I told you…’ The male then pressed his back against the chair as he continues to watch the couple smiling as Yuna keep delivering her speech.

“Today also marking our first anniversary of our wedding so I am happy to share this feeling with everyone in this room,” Yuna spun herself to face her husband with the biggest grin on her face. “I love you,” She confessed. Taehyung’s lips formed a smile.

“I love you too,”

You swear you could hear your heart shattering like a piece of glasses. You then forced yourself to watch him kissing his wife in front of the crowd that of course would cheer on that couple meanwhile you sitting here, writhing in agony.

--

[tomtenadia]

Remember us - part 4

Hello lovelies,

It’s Thursday evening and I have some angst coming your way :)

Please enjoy part 4 of Remember Us

CW: mention of depression and miscarriage

--------

Rowan had the week from hell. Rehab had been relentless and Dorian had taken him to the gym everyday, but at least now he could say that he was able to walk the length of the walking bars and back. In the last couple of days Dorian had pushed for him to start using crutches, insinuating to the fact that the doctor was thinking about discharging him.

On top of the pain from rehab he was still punishing himself for what had happened with Aelin. Every morning he woke up and the first thing he did was to look at his phone for a reply from her, but nothing ever came.

The doctors think they might discharge me in a few days. Dorian is making me a pro at using crutches.

Maybe a good news might cheer her up.

He tried to watch tv but lost interest very quickly so he went back to his phone. He had been reading the whole thread of messaged between him and Aelin and discovered some interesting tidbits. They bickered a lot but from the text messages it looked as if they would always make up in the end. He also found some texts that made him blush wildly. But what was always present was love. That he knew was real.

He was absorbed in the texts that he did not notice the woman who had entered his room.

She was blonde, the same golden shade that Aelin had.

“Hi Rowan,” she greeted him walking fully into the room “I brought you your favourite biscuits. Hospital food is atrocious.”

The stranger placed the box on the nightstand “orange oatmeal cookies.”

He looked at her puzzled.

“I am Evalin. I am Aelin’s mum and your mother in-law.”

Rowan straightened his back, wanting to make a good impression, realising a moment later that the woman knew him already.

She took a seat on the chair near his bed “how are you doing?”

He had good vibes from the woman and he was impressed just how much her daughter resembled her “Adjusting…discovering new things that are not actually new.”

Evalin patted his knee “are any memories coming back?”

“I had a couple. All related to moments with Aelin.” He paused, sighed and gathered the courage to ask about Aelin. He hadn’t her from Aelin in a week “How is she doing? I haven’t heard from her in a week.”

Evalin hesitated “she is not well. She had been off from work the whole week.”

Rowan worried. Without realising it he felt a pang of fear rise in him “is it the pregnancy?”

Evalin nodded “partly. She has been very stressed this last month which has been hard on her and the baby.”

He threw his head backwards and leaned into the pillow “and it doesn’t help that I pile on with my stupidity.”

“She told me what happened.” The woman said quietly and he had a feeling that all of a sudden she had lost all of her respect for him “It must be scary to be in your position right now.” she admitted “I can see that you were just trying to protect my daughter, because the heart is a treacherous thing and I don’t think Aelin would survive loosing you completely and again.” The woman’s eyes were on him now “As a mother who loves her daughter and her grandchildren deeply and accepted you like a son… all I am asking is to give it a try.” She took his hand in hers “I know I am asking a lot of you, but you two used to hate each other and look where you got in the end.”

“What if I am not anymore the man she loves? I am scared that something might have broken in me and I don’t want to hurt her or the kids.”

Evalin squeezed his hand “listen to your heart, what does it tell you?”

“Try.” He whispered and he knew it was true “if I tell you something will you promise you will not think of me as crazy?”

Evalin shook her head.

“When I saw her the first time, I could not recognise her, but my body somehow did. I felt a tug… as if something pulled me to her. I don’t know how to explain it. There was a sense of familiarity.” He explained, thinking he sounded like a complete lunatic, but Evalin smiled deeply at him.

“I think it was your soul recognising its other half.” And she chuckled “my husband used to tell me I was an hopeless romantic.”

“I dreamed our wedding day, the day both kids were born and some other moments with her have come back.”

“And how do they make you feel?”

“There is always love. I am sure Aelin and I had our bad days but the memories coming back so far are all happy.” He told the woman.

“Then treasure those feelings.”

They stood in silence for a moment then Rowan spoke again “can I ask you something?”

Evalin nodded.

“Aelin mentioned that before having Thomas and Freyja we had problems and lost as well. How bad was it?”

He wasn’t sure if he should talk about it but he wanted, needed to know. He needed to know more about his relationship with Aelin and Evalin seemed very keen to indulge him.

“You started trying after you got married. You were both obsessed about having a big family so you started straight away. But it took Aelin a year to get pregnant.” She told him and he could see the heartbreak in the woman “you lost the first baby in the first trimester. But the second one happened during her fifth month. She woke up one night bleeding heavily and you lost your baby girl. It destroyed you both.”

Evalin paused, giving him time to absorb the facts “Aelin was heartbroken and you were just the same. And your marriage suffered quite badly, but slowly you both found your way back together. Thomas arrived a year later.”

Rowan listened and he felt a stab of pain in his heart. How did they survive such pain?

“You both went through something more horrific, and I am positive you will survive this too. You have to.” The woman stood and placed her bag back on her shoulder “next time you see Aelin, talk to her. Tell her about your fears. Let her in Rowan, she is your wife.”

She was about to leave when she stopped and pulled something from her bag. It was a piece of paper “Thomas did this for you.”

Rowan took the paper and saw it was a messy drawing of his family. The four of them were all there “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

Evalin smiled and left the room, leaving Rowan on his own.

He thought about his options and realised that he had none. They were his family and in that moment they were all he knew. He had no idea if he had any friends close enough who would take him in. And who would do that anyway? He was a burden. But Aelin had offered him a home. A family. And eventually love. Maybe Evalin was right, maybe with time and patience he could learn to love her again. He just hoped he was not too late.

*

Aelin woke up from her afternoon nap and found her mother playing with Thomas. Freyja was napping as well on the sofa, her soft toy close to her chest, her blanket wrapped around her and a pacifier in her mouth. She looked serene.

Thomas was building something with lego. His father was obsessed with the colourful bricks and he had bought huge quantities and they would sit and build for hours.

“What are you building, Tom?”

“Our house.”

She ruffled his blonde hair and went to sit opposite her mother.

“How are you doing?”

Aelin sighed “the nausea stopped, but I still feel exhausted.”

“You should go back to bed.”

Aelin shook her head “If I keep sleeping I will not be able to do so tonight.”

Evalin took a sip of her tea “I went to see Rowan this morning.”

Aelin froze. She had retyped and deleted the reply to him countless times now. She had wanted to tell him she was scared too. Tell him that she knew it was hard for him and that she was ready to stay at his side and help him. They would find their way back. They always did even during the darkest moments of their marriage when she pushed him away because she thought the pain was only hers, Rowan had fought to be back at her side. Together they rose from the abysm and their bond grew even stronger.

“How is he doing?”

“Your husband needs you at his side. He is lost, and confused.”

“He told me to move on. He told he might not want to be my husband anymore.” She snapped, her heart aching.

“Have you considered that he might have said that to protect you? He is afraid you will not love the man that will come out of this ordeal. He thinks that by leaving him he will protect this family.”

Aelin sobbed, her face in her hands “I miss him so much.” Her sobs grew in intensity.

Thomas noticed his mother cry and walked to her and gave Aelin a hug “don’t cry, mum.”

“I am fine, Tom. Go back playing with lego.” She kissed his blonde hair and sent him back on the carpet.

“I know you are the doctor,” started Evalin caressing her sleeping granddaughter’s silver hair “but I did some reading and it seems like sensorial stimulation might help trigger the memories.”

Aelin nodded “He has his phone back with all the photos and the texts.” She took a deep breath “he texted me saying that the doctor might discharge him in a few days and I don’t know what to do.”

Evalin gave her a dashing smile “you are taking your husband back to this home where he belongs.”

Aelin felt fear at the idea “have you thought how the kids will feel at seeing their dad that way? I can’t put them through that.”

Her mother placed a hand on her knee in comfort “have you thought about the fact that being surrounded by a familiar environment might be best way to help him?”

She had not. All she had been thinking since that text had been her children. She wanted him back. There was no doubt about it. But she had to protect them. She was an adult and could endure the pain. They could not. They had no idea what was happening.

“You could explain to Thomas what happened and ask him to help you to get his dad back.”

Her boy, her wonderful boy, she could not do that to him. Her hands shook in fear.

“Aelin, he needs his family. All of us.”

She stood abruptly “he should go and stay with friends. Lorcan perhaps.”

Evalin stood as well and joined her “He and Elide have a baby who is only a few months old, they will not take him in. And they cannot help. He needs us. He needs all of this.” Her arms extended to indicate the house around them.

“He might not want this.” Aelin snarled “he made it quite clear.”

Evalin loved her daughter but she had inherited her father’s stubbornness. But if Aelin was stubborn, she was on another level “Aelin, you are going back to work tomorrow. You march in your husband’s room and tell him that he is coming home. Where he belongs. And don’t fight me on this.”

Aelin knew her mother had her best interest at heart. She was the one who had dragged her out of the abysm she had thrown herself into after they lost their daughter. After she had pushed Rowan away, Evalin had been at her side. Helping through the pain of the loss, fighting her depression with her. Slowly she had made her realise that Rowan was hurting too. That the pain was his as well and that he could be the one pulling her out completely. In the end they had helped each other.

To whatever end.

It was their pact, their promise.

An oath that went deeper than a I love you.

It was a thread that bound their souls together.

To whatever end.

[rufousnmacska]

Only You

A manorian arranged marriage fic from an anon request -

Do you think you could write an angsty manorian drabble where political/royal pressures and such has Dorian marry someone else + Dorian being mortal has Manon encouraging him? just all that manorian heartbreak+pining. also really love your fics!

This turned into much more than a drabble, but I hope everyone enjoys it! 🤗

Many thanks to @itach-i for beta reading and helping plot things out! ❤️

*

PART ONE

*

Dorian hadn’t noticed the cold until his valet wrapped a furred robe around him. How long had he been standing out here? The sun had just broken from the horizon and his breath was pooling in front of him with each exhale. The valet, a gray-haired man named Ruben, disappeared back into the royal suite, muttering something about the foolishness of young men. Dorian smiled grimly, knowing he was indeed foolish. Worse. He was a godsdamned idiot. And he felt numb, as though his body was somewhere far from here, his mind with it. None of it was due to the winter chill. Staring off towards the hills west of Rifthold, his eyes glanced over the many red and gold banners attached to the city’s roofs, snapping in the wind. Part of him loved seeing his people so excited, so proud for the coming celebration. They’d suffered greatly during the war and had worked hard in the rebuilding effort of the last two years. But that small joy for his kingdom was overshadowed by his own despair. How many times had he stood in this spot, watching and waiting and holding his breath until he caught sight of those silvery wings and moon white hair dancing in the sky? He’d known today would be his last chance to watch for her. And since sleep was a fool’s hope, he’d come out to his balcony and stood here for hours, his gaze on the west, wondering where it had all gone wrong.

***

The rising sun shone brightly off the tops of the castle towers, giving the small group of witches their first real view of Rifthold in the distance. In the past, this sight would leave Manon breathless with anticipation, pushing Abraxos to speed up in her excitement. There had been times when her giddy desperation to reach the castle was almost humiliating, forcing her to contain her emotions before she landed. But no matter her control in those moments, Dorian would greet her on his balcony with a ferocious embrace, seeing right through her mask. He always had. Now, Manon wished that truth away, pushing it deep down, along with the nausea roiling in her gut. As they drew nearer to Rifthold, she could just barely make out the decorations hanging from the castle. It almost brought up the meager breakfast she’d eaten not long ago. With the brightening sky, she realized the entire city was decked out, covered in colorful banners and garlands. Of course, a royal wedding demanded finery. She had expected it, guarded herself against it. But her expectations were dealt a swift blow by the reality now facing her. Manon was on her way to Dorian’s wedding. Not as the bride, but as a royal guest. And she had no one but herself to blame.

*****

Six months earlier…

Manon frowned as Abraxos landed on an unusually empty balcony. Though she’d never asked for it, the space had been rebuilt to provide a large enough area to comfortably hold a wyvern. Wrapping halfway around the king’s tower, the balcony offered magnificent views of the ocean to the east and the mountains to the west. As she dismounted, Manon realized that vast western view was what gave Dorian the ability to know she was almost there. Normally, she wouldn’t notice the view because he would be there, scooping her up and taking her inside to say hello in her favorite ways. But tonight, she and Abraxos were alone.

Quietly, so as not to startle Ruben, Manon stepped through the doorway. She needn’t have bothered. The bedroom was as empty as the outside and she heard no sounds coming through the door to the other rooms. Wondering if he hadn’t received her last message telling him when to expect her, Manon sat on a sofa to wait. She lasted less than five minutes before pacing around the room, then finally deciding to go in search of Dorian.

The office was empty and as she continued through to the exterior door, Manon rolled her eyes at the messy desk. How Dorian managed to keep everything straight in the piles and stacks of papers was beyond her. She wasn’t in the corridor long before she heard angry voices echoing up the stairway. Chaol and Dorian had stopped part way up the tower.

“You can’t afford to just dismiss this threat of rebellion. Lord Frey is an ass, but he has the ear of too many other nobles to be ignored.” Chaol sounded winded. Manon didn’t think he came up here very often since his mobility was tied to his wife’s magic. That he was here now to continue this conversation was significant.

“I refuse to give into his demands,” Dorian growled. “He complains about me leaving the kingdom to Erawan, and yet he brags about how he profited from the war. Whatever gold he has in his coffers did not come from me.”

Manon inched back to the door on silent feet. She knew Dorian’s lords were causing trouble, but he’d refused to go into detail about it with her. The thought of anyone claiming Dorian had willfully abandoned Adarlan to Erawan made her blood boil. The valg king and his armies had left a path of scorched earth and devastation on his march to Terrasen. And Dorian had spent the last two years of his life dedicated to rebuilding his kingdom.

Chaol sighed. “Yes, but what he’s proposed in exchange—”

“What he’s proposed will not be considered,” Dorian interrupted. It was a voice Manon had never heard from him.

After a long pause, Chaol continued. “I know how you feel, Dorian. But we need to put emotions aside and think this through. I’m not saying we go along with it. But right now, we have to look at every option.”

“You say ‘we’ as if you would be the one marrying his daughter.”

Manon gasped, covering her mouth to remain quiet.

“It would be a political alliance,” Chaol reasoned. “You wouldn’t have to end things with—”

Again, Dorian refused to let him finish. “Stop. I’ve told you my decision. We will find some other way to placate the rebellious lords. I am not marrying her.”

Soft footsteps punctuated by the clack of a cane sounded as Chaol left his king and descended the tower. When he was gone, she heard Dorian smash his fist into the stone wall, pieces of mortar crumbling and raining down onto the floor. Manon was paralyzed, her hands balled up into tight fists, eyes wide. And that was how Dorian found her when he took the final steps up to his suite.

***

“You misunderstood. Frey doesn’t have enough clout to demand such a thing.” Dorian was frantic, spending the last two hours trying to explain away what Manon had heard. But her face had frozen into a mask, nothing he said could tease out even the slightest reaction.

“You can’t be so flippant,” she said, the stony resolve in her voice starting to scare him. “He’s offered you an out from civil war. If you care about your kingdom, you must do it.”

He was going mad. First Chaol, now Manon. Where was Yrene to talk some sense into them? He cared about his kingdom and his people. He cared so much that he had no life whatsoever beyond the endless meetings and negotiations and squabbles. His sole joy in life was standing before him now arguing that he should marry someone else.

“If I care?” he asked. “I was prepared to die for it. On many occasions. I would gladly give my life. But I won’t give my heart.”

Manon blinked slowly, and he realized she was looking past him. “You once told me you were prepared to give up your throne for Sorscha. Then the war taught you how foolish, how childish that was. And now, as if you learned nothing, sacrificed nothing, you want to do the same thing. Your life and your heart are one in the same.” Finally, her golden eyes met his. “I am immortal. You are not. You need a human queen to give you heirs and unite your kingdom. I will not play a part in disrupting that.”

Dorian searched for any sign - an unshed tear, a twitch of her lips, a clenched jaw. But there was nothing. Nothing on her face except a cold certainty that left him feeling lost, alone. He knew this was an act, a means of protecting herself. And yet, she was right. When they’d parted ways in Orynth after the war, he’d ignored the desire to ask her for some sort of commitment beyond “We’ll see.” They both had countries to rebuild and had chosen that greater responsibility over personal wishes. Dorian told himself then that they had time. Yes, he was a mortal. But he still had a plentiful well of raw magic on which to draw upon, magic that would give him a much longer life than a normal human. And only two short years later, out of nowhere, everything was falling apart.

No, he would not let his people suffer through war again. But giving in to extortion was not an acceptable alternative. He thought of Aelin, wondering how she would handle a situation like this. With the way her people adored her, he knew she’d never reach this point. Maybe Frey and his allies were right. Maybe he’d left them to fend for themselves out of cowardice instead of prudence. Suddenly, Dorian was exhausted, tired of being king, tired of giving up everything he wanted. He rubbed his eyes until they were red

“You know it has to be this way,” she said, having watched him sort out his thoughts. “No matter what they claim, you’ve never once abandoned this kingdom. Which is why you won’t do it now.”

Dorian stared at the ground, grasping for a way out, but his mind felt like aspic, soft and muddled and useless. “I won’t be a king who takes a queen and still keeps a lover.” The ultimatum was hard to voice, but it was true. Despite his rakish history, he’d never taken a new lover without breaking things off with the old one. If ever an exception was to be made, it would be with Manon. But he would never disrespect her, a queen in her own right, by reducing her to a secret paramour and source of castle gossip.

Still stoic, she replied, “I would not expect you to.”

They had always pushed and teased each other, seeing which one would break first and admit their feelings or give in to the desire. Desperately hoping that they were playing that game now, he surrendered. “I want you, Manon. No one else.”

The slightest hitch in her breathing and a tiny flutter of her eyes sent his hope soaring. But, with a firm tone that meant she would say no more, Manon said, “Marry her, Dorian. Save your throne and keep your people from more bloodshed.”

Before he could respond, she walked out the door and climbed into the saddle still strapped to her wyvern. Manon was in the air without a look back, and Dorian sank to the ground, his head in his hands.

*****

Rumors were flying through the witch city faster than the most agile wyverns. Mere months ago, the witches had expected an announcement from their queen, happy news that their kingdom would be united with Adarlan. Some were not in favor of their queen marrying a human, king or not. Others, especially those in the queen’s council, saw it as a good match. A love match, they claimed. But now, after the royal messenger from Adarlan had arrived, the gossip was spinning out of control.

Manon stared at the thick envelope sealed with red and gold wax, the wyvern stamped into it watching her with a single mocking eye. Dorian had once laughed about how significant it was for his royal crest to include a wyvern, a connection forged between their two kingdoms before they had even met. She’d brushed the thought away at the time, rolling her eyes at his insistence that fate was at work. But now, the memory of his teasing voice sank into her chest, adding to the heaviness and pain that had been choking her since she’d left him on that balcony months ago.

“You don’t have to go. No one would fault you for it. We can send Petrah as a representative,” Glennis said, her voice stiff and formal. It was a tone usually relegated for council meetings, not a conversation with her granddaughter.

She was silent for a long moment, still looking at the envelope. Instead of answering, Manon picked it up and ripped apart the seal. The invitation was written in fanciful blue ink with a border of red berries and ivy stamped into the parchment. She frowned at the flowery words that matched the design, knowing the girl must have been behind all of it. The girl. Manon knew she was likely close to Dorian’s age, but she didn’t care. The future queen of Adarlan would forever be the girl in her mind. Even so, it was impossible to miss her name in elegant calligraphy.

Your presence is requested at the royal wedding of Lady Eveline Frey and His Majesty Dorian Havilliard II, King of Adarlan

Manon stopped reading at his name and continued to flip through the remaining pages. They contained notices of the pre-wedding events that the ‘happy couple’ hoped people would attend, despite the possibility of poor weather at that time of year.

Happy. Her eyes caught on that word and didn’t move. She knew it was a lie. And yet, her old doubts and fears flooded back into her mind. She was still heartless despite her efforts to change, he deserved someone who could sufficiently return his affections. She was immortal, he was not. Manon had reasoned that she would rather lose him like this than watch up close as he aged and died. Rather lose him now, when they could both move on to full lives, than be forced to somehow carry on after his death. A magically extended life or not, she could see no other scenario if she continued with him. And if that was truly how she felt, then she wanted to be there and show him they were both better off this way.

Glennis watched her, likely reading every thought that had gone through her head. For when Manon said she was going, her grandmother’s head dipped in resignation. “Then I will accompany you.”

Manon lost count of her attempts at crafting a reply. She began with a simple list of witches who would attend with her, which morphed into a long drawn out explanation of why she wanted to be there. Then she backtracked into a brief, two sentence response. And even then, she had to make several copies until one was legible. The anguish of what she faced kept showing itself in her shaking hand.

Her eyes keep going back to their names and she found herself wondering what the girl was like. Did she like to read? Could she fight with a sword? Would she stand up to the nobility who claimed Dorian was not worthy of his throne? How would she react to him waking up screaming in the middle of the night from a nightmare in which he’d been torturing people?

That last thought made her feel sick. Not because of the dreams that still plagued him - she was well versed in helping to comfort him, just as he knew how to ease her grief and fear after a nightmare. It was the idea that they’d be sharing a bed that turned her stomach.

Gods what was she thinking? There were two months until the wedding. Was that long enough to forget everything Dorian was to her?

Manon knew the answer. And yet, when she read over their names again, she made herself remember why things had to be this way. Adarlan could not survive another war, especially one which tore it apart from the inside out. This was for the best. His and hers. This wedding would be closure, and afterwards, she could move on, search for a suitable consort. Not to become her king. She could not bear seeing anyone else beside her in that capacity. But finding an acceptable male to produce an heir would help to stabilize her kingdom. If Dorian was forced to set aside his heart to help his people, then she would do the same.

When she gave the reply to Glennis later, her grandmother frowned. “I find myself not wanting to send this.”

“It will be us and two sentinels. That’s all,” Manon said, ignoring the witch’s reluctance. “We will arrive the day before and leave immediately after the ceremony.” As Glennis nodded in agreement, Manon noticed she held a royal envelope in her other hand. “What is that?”

Again, that frown. “It’s from Prince Fennick Whitethorn of Doranelle. A cousin of Rowan’s I believe.”

“Was he in Orynth?” She didn’t recall him being there, but her memories from those early days battling Erawan’s army were foggy.

“I don’t think he was.”

Manon took it, examining front and back. The wax seal matched that of Queen Sellene Whitethorn. “What could this be?” she wondered aloud.

Glennis was already walking away, but she turned and said sharply, “I can only imagine.”

Manon was glad she waited until she was alone to read it, for by the end of it, she was sitting motionless, the letter forgotten on the floor.

Prince Fennick Whitethorn, a cousin to both Rowan and Queen Sellene, had written to express his regards and dismay at the news that the King of Adarlan would marry a noble from his own kingdom. He’d felt compelled to write her directly, offering her his support and friendship since he’d experienced something similar a few hundred years before. As Doranelle’s representative at the festivities, he hoped they could meet in Rifthold. In not so veiled terms, he suggested they might establish an alliance of their own, one that would be amenable to both their countries.

Mere hours after speculating about taking a consort and here she was, staring at a proposal. She couldn’t decide between outrage or amazement at the audacity of the fae male. It had certainly taken balls to approach her this way. And at this time. Picking up the letter, she read it over again. From the sounds of it, Fennick had been left heartbroken in his past. A past that extended even further back than her own. Had she not used her own immortality as a reason that Dorian should wed another? Here was an immortal throwing himself at her, eager for alliance. But she wondered if his interest would wane when he was told that at best, he might become her consort. There was only one man who she’d accept as her king, and he was now outside her reach.

She decided not to send a reply. If the fae prince was there, she would meet with him, see what kind of male he was and whether he might bring anything of worth to an alliance. If not, it would be one less thing to worry about.

That night, as she tried and failed to fall asleep, Manon found herself imagining how she might say goodbye to Dorian. They never used the word, choosing instead to focus only on their hellos. It made a twisted sort of sense that this goodbye, this parting that would be permanent, would be the first and last time it was spoken between them.

***

Yrene found Dorian in his office, watching the brutal winter winds send snow whipping through the air outside his window. Judging from her expression, she knew why he’d sent for her. When her eyes went to the letter on his desk, her shoulders seemed to slump, and she sat down heavily across from him.

“She will be attending,” he said, pushing the short reply across the desk in case she wanted to read it. After immediately recognizing the handwriting as Manon’s, he’d stared at it for a long time. As if there might be some sign of hesitation on her part, he’d examined the note, his eyes running over each stroke of ink, again and again. It was flawless. Just like her, he’d thought miserably.

“I didn’t think she’d actually come. It was meant as a formality between two allies.”

“Perhaps that’s why she has agreed. Formality, nothing more,” Yrene offered.

“How do you think Eveline will handle it?” Despite a wedding date only a few weeks away, Dorian barely spoke to his future queen. Yrene had been acting as a go between, keeping Dorian from having to feign pleasantries and interest in someone who he’d claimed looked and acted like an empty doll.

“She has been trained as a courtier since birth. I’m sure she will be as polite and ladylike as she always is.” Yrene rose and came around the desk, standing in front of the window to make Dorian look at her. “She may appear timid and vapid in front of her father, but she is no fool. She knows what this arrangement is and why it’s happening. Your involvement with Manon was never much of a secret. Eveline knows she is not your choice. But like you, she is doing her duty.”

Dorian didn’t reply. He knew his opinion of her was misguided, that it was based on anger at the situation, at her father. Which was why he kept his distance. If he couldn’t keep himself in check in private or with his friends, how could he expect to refrain from unleashing his rage on her with hurtful words? At least, that’s what he told himself. It was true, but some part of him knew that if he gave in and spent time with her, it would make this all the more real.

Yrene’s eyes darkened as she said, “Lord Frey has a reputation to match Chaol’s father. With her mother gone, I suspect Eveline has not had much control over her life. This would be nothing new to her.”

Now fully ashamed of himself, Dorian only nodded. If there was anything he could understand, it was not being able to defy a bullying parent. A new sense of sympathy filled him as he wondered how desperate Eveline must be for a new life. Freedom from an abusive father would be worth the heavy responsibilities and loss of privacy that came with being a queen. Maybe it was time to make an effort. He couldn’t envision a future where he would ever develop actual feelings for Eveline. But he could at least become her friend.

“What else have you learned about her?” he asked.

Yrene shrugged. “Her education has been extensive, and she knows much about the court and how it runs. She enjoys art and music, embroidery …” She trailed off, trying to think of any other attributes worth sharing. “Horse riding. She always seems to be coming back from the stables when I see her. I’ve gotten the impression her father does not approve of that hobby, but she maintains that being a good horsewoman befits a true lady.”

“So, she does disobey him then …” Dorian smiled slightly, recalling how he used to rebel against his parents. Horse riding was much less scandalous. “Does she need any help with the wedding plans?”

The suddenness of his change in tone had Yrene blinking at him. “I don’t believe so. But I can ask her.”

Dorian stood and walked towards the door. He knew if he didn’t start now, he never would. “I will go ask. I’d like to recommend some music.”

“Wait,” Yrene cried, trailing him out into the corridor. When she caught up to him, she asked, “What are you doing?”

The fear in her eyes almost made Dorian turn around and forget his pledge of moments ago to try and accept this. Yrene had always been the biggest supporter of his relationship with Manon. Whether she was helping them arrange a short, secret escape from their duties, or using her sharp tongue to tear down any detractors of the Witch Kingdom, or giving him advice on how to help Manon recover from the loss of her coven … Yrene had always been there. And now, for the first time, it seemed to be sinking in for her that what she had dreamed for her friends – a happily ever after to rival what she had with Chaol – was impossible. It pained Dorian to see it and he pulled her into a hug.

“If there was another way, Yrene, I’d do it. You know that.”

She hugged him back fiercely, her voice shaking as she said, “I know. She is my friend too, Dorian. And I don’t want to lose her.”

Gods, Dorian thought his heart couldn’t break anymore. And here it was, cracking into even more fragments, each time becoming smaller and smaller. “I know.”

Yrene backed away and let loose a string of curses and insults about Lord Frey that left his eyes wide and mouth agape. He’d never heard her speak like that before, had never thought her capable of such filthy language.

Before she could think to apologize, he laughed. “Well said, Lady!”

Red with embarrassment, Yrene burst into laughter too. When they’d both regained their composure, she said, “Come. I’ll walk with you to Eveline’s rooms and catch you up on her wedding plans.”

“Thank you,” he said, and meant it. “She is as much a pawn in this game as anyone, and she doesn’t deserve my animosity.”

Yrene nodded. “As much as I hate to admit it, she’s a perfectly lovely young woman. It makes things worse in a way.”

When they reached her rooms, Yrene led him inside.

“Your Majesty,” Eveline said brightly. Her dark hair matched her eyes and she gave him a beaming smile. “I was not expecting you today.” She was going through a stack of replies to the invitations.

“Please, call me Dorian. I insist,” he said. “I have one more to add.” Slowly, as if not wanting to give it up, he handed her Manon’s reply. He and Yrene both watched her carefully as she read it.

With the same smile as before, Eveline said, “I’m so pleased the Witch Queen will be attending. None of your other royal friends are able to come due to the weather. Though Doranelle is sending someone.” She paused, thinking. “I can’t remember his name.”

As the two women went through the replies and spoke quietly, Dorian pretended to listen. For one terrible moment, he wondered what the word princeling might sound like from Eveline’s mouth. The thought felt blasphemous, leaving him spinning and trapped between two worlds: the reality sitting next to him, this perfectly lovely woman for whom he felt nothing, and a dream world where he’d wake up happy each morning to snow white hair and golden eyes. A dream that had slipped through his fingers, like the wind gusting wildly outside.

Perfectly lovely. Eveline was lovely, and perfect, with exquisite manners, an impeccable wardrobe, and a distinguished education. But despite that loveliness and perfection, he knew without a doubt that his feelings towards Eveline would never come close to what he felt for Manon. Manon was his mirror, his equal. If beings other than fae were able to have true mates, she would be his.

The thought struck him like a dagger, straight to whatever bits of his heart yet remained. Shaking his head, Dorian tried not to think of Manon, of how this next visit for the wedding would likely be her last. Tried not to dwell on how he would have to live the rest of his life without her, his mate in every way that counted.

Of course, he failed. And when Eveline asked him about what music he’d prefer, Dorian used every ounce of strength he had left to force a smile on his face and answer.

To be continued...

***

Thanks for reading! You can find my writing master list here or on AO3.

It’s been a while since I’ve written and I’m not sure who all is still out there. So if I missed you, or you’d like to be tagged/removed for parts two and three, let me know.

@itach-i @bookishwitchling @manontrashbeak @awesomelena555 @jimetg98 @over300books

[llocallesbian]

line without a hook | K.S

part three

“Kathy’s staying with you?” Elliot’s voice boomed behind you, making you flinch slightly which lead to you spilling the coffee you were pouring into your cup.

“Yeah she is.” You sighed, putting the coffee cup back on the pot. You grabbed some napkins, cleaning up the small spill.

“Why didn’t you tell me when she first came to you?” You huffed, turning to look at him. You noticed Olivia standing behind him and you figured she told him that Kathy was staying with you. Why wouldn’t she tell him?

“She asked me not to, Elliot. Now if you’ll excuse me..” You grabbed your styrofoam cup and began walking back to your desk, in front of Fin’s, when you heard him chuckle.

“So what? Your loyalty lies with her? You know that’s real-”

“The hell are you talking about loyalty for? This has absolutely nothing to do with loyalty. She needed a place to stay-”

”-You could’ve said no!”

“Why would I say no, Elliot? Kathy is one of my best friends.” He shook his head as he paced back and fourth, his hands clenching in anger. “Don’t go taking your anger out on me because I didn’t do shit.” Olivia grabbed Elliot, gently pulling him into the other room once she saw you getting angry too.

“Something I should know about?” Cragen’s voice came from behind you as you took a seat. Your jaw clenched tightly as you shook your head, not turning your head to look his way. “Alright well, we got a Jane doe at Mercy. You and Fin, go check it out.” You nodded, grabbing your jacket and to-go coffee cup, walking out the room before he could try and talk to you.

“What’s up with you and stabler?” Fin finally broke the silence between the two of you as you began to drive to the hospital. You glanced at him quickly before focusing your view onto the road.

“He’s got problems with Kathy. You know how he gets.” He nodded, completely understanding how heated Elliot could get over little things.

“Well if you need me to kick his ass, straighten him out a little bit, let me know.” You laughed, shaking your head at your partner. You sighed softly, stopping at the red light.

“Can I tell you something, Fin?” You looked over at him, “No one else can know and I mean absolutely no one.” He rose a brow, leaning back in the seat.

“Since when have I ever told someone something you told me in private, Y/n?” You shook your head, glancing at the light to make sure it was still red.

“Never but this,” you sighed, a knot in your stomach began forming just thinking about it. “This thing is bad. It’s so bad. I could lose people over this, Fin.”

“What? You kill someone or something?” Although it was a joke, there was some seriousness laced in his voice. You were usually never this serious with him.

“Kathy kissed me.” The light turned green and you slowly pressed your foot on the gas. “She had suspected Liv and Elliot having an affair, I was comforting her and she kissed me.” You paused for a second, taking in a breath as you felt the weight come off your shoulders. “I stopped it because she was hurting, she wasn’t in the right state of mind but I can’t...” You trailed off and he sighed softly.

“You can’t stop thinking about it?” He finished for you, you nodded and he chuckled. “And now she’s staying with you?”

“I couldn’t tell her no, Fin.” You made a left turn, sparing him a small glance. “I wouldn’t tell her no. She’s my best friend.”

“What about me?”

“Fin, shut up.” You smiled, running a hand through your head. “There’s no awkward tension between us, everything just flows but this is Elliot’s wife. Or ex wife when the papers get finalized. This is bad. Elliot is....” You trailed off for a split second, “he’s family. You guys are my family. But now I like Elliot’s wife.”

“Their marriage is over, Y/n. You didn’t end their marriage, you’re not sleeping with her while she’s married. You’re not doing anything wrong. You can’t control your feelings. It’s a crush, it’ll pass.”

“And if it doesn’t.” You pulled into a parking space across the street from the hospital, taking the key out of the ignition.

“If it doesn’t, then you act then.” He shrugged as if it were that simple. “Maybe it was just a one time thing, you know? You worry to much.” With that he got out of the car and you rolled your eyes.

“Some best friend you are.” You muttered before getting out of the car yourself.

“I’m home, Kathy.” You called out as you stepped into your apartment, closing the door behind you. You huffed lowly, pulling your jacket off and throwing it onto the sofa along with your bag.

“Hey, how was work?” She came from around the corner where the kitchen was.

“It was fine, we caught a case an...” You trailed off as you noticed what she was wearing. Your Harvard sweatshirt. “Is that my sweatshirt?” Kathy glanced down at herself and smiled as she nodded.

“Yeah it was cold...is that okay?” You nodded quickly, snapping out of your thoughts. You could feel your face heating up so you coughed slightly to cover it up.

“Yeah yeah, it’s fine.” You stumbled over your words for a moment before inhaling deeply. “I’m going to go take a shower and then we can order in? Unless you already ate?” She shook her head, leaning against the wall while crossing her legs as she observed you.

“I’ll order the food while you take a shower. Pizza, okay?” You nodded, not trusting your voice, as your feet began moving forward towards your bedroom.

20 minutes later you emerged from the bathroom, a pair of black and white plaid pajamas hung from your hips, clinging to your thighs paired with a white tank top that left little to the imagination. You hair was pulled back into a bun, not wanting it to get wet, although a few pieces that framed your face were curled slightly.

“Hey, food should be here soon.” Kathy rounded called out from living room and you nodded even though she couldn’t see you. Walking towards the kitchen, you went into the fridge.

“You want a beer or something?” She called out a yeah and you grabbed her a beer and yourself strawberry daiquiri seagrams before going into the living room with Kathy. You flopped onto the sofa next to her, handing her the beer before taking a long swig of your drink. Kathy’s eyes trailed your body, landing on your boobs. She mentally smacked herself for having the mind of a 13 year old boy. “You have a good day?”

Her eyes snapped back onto your face quickly as she nodded, a small smile going onto her lips. “Yeah, saw the kids today. They say hi, by the way.” You smiled widely, turning your head to look at her.

“They can come over anytime they want Kathy, you know I love those kids as if they were my own.” She nodded, playing with the top of the beer bottle. “You miss them?”

“Yeah.” She whispered, nodding and you reached out, grabbing her hand with hesitation.

“It’s gonna be okay.�� You muttered softly and she squeezed your hand, letting her head rest there. Your head laid back against the cushion but never turned to look away from Kathy.

“You’re good to me, y/n.” She whispered, letting her head drop to the cushion too, never taking her eyes off you. Her hand had yet to move off of yours. You could slowly see her leaning in and in your head you were contemplating on whether or not to kiss her. Everything, and i mean everything, was screaming no. To not kiss her but you heart? You heart was saying to go for it. Her face was close to yours, so close that you could practically feel her breath on your face.

“Kathy, we can’t.” You whispered, her forehead came into contact with yours, resting against it.

“Why can’t we?” You breathing hitched as you began to think for answers to her questions. There were a million answers to her question but none of them seemed important.

“You’re in vulnerable pla-”

“I’m fine, now.”

“You’re Elliot’s-”

“Don’t think about him, think about me. Do you want me?”

“Kathy.” It was meant to sound like a protest but it was a small whisper, you wanted this. You could feel yourself leaning in and her lips hovered above yours. The loud knocked against your front door made you jump back, quite literally. You breathed out sharply, sparing a glance at the blonde. “Uh that’s pizza!” You quickly grabbed your wallet, walking to get the pizza.

“Just great.” Kathy muttered before taking a big gulp of her beer. She was going to need it to get through this night.

OKAY SO ITS NOT EDITED. ill edit or something in the morning. remember to take care of y’all self. oh and stay gay😌

[cupcakemolotov]

Match My Heart to Yours

Okay, since the Exchange reveals have been pushed back until Thursday (for very, very good reasons) I have decided to post a tiny thing to hopefully tide people over. I do sort of intend to write more on this, but I have been stalled for a few months which means I need to change things up. So here is the first bit, hopefully you all like it!

You can also read it here on A03.

Synopsis: Enzo has an plan. Caroline has some serious doubts, because first all, werewolf, hot or not. Alpha, even. A political marriage to a man with his dimples seems like a terrible idea.

                                                            -

Caroline paused, chopsticks hovering over her container of fried rice. Across from her, Enzo looked relaxed, no real tension visible as he reached for another eggroll. “Excuse me?”

“Gorgeous…”

She narrowed her eyes at his placating tone. “I should have known your offer to pick up dinner two towns over was a bribe. You don’t even like Chinese food. You cannot be serious.”

Her witchy best friend would walk through fire for her, but perfect egg rolls an hour after they’d been picked up should have dinged as an obvious bribe. Though this was not nearly big enough. 

“Would I have made the drive if I wasn’t serious?” Enzo asked, sighing when her expression didn’t budge. “You know what I do. What I really do.”

Her gaze dropped to his wrist were a tattoo wound along the bones and tendons, the ink black and red, starkly visible against the olive of his skin. Usually he used the modern advances in makeup to hide what no magic could, because sometimes people were less understanding about this particular quirk of his magic than others. She’d never had a problem with it, but she was human and had no desire for his services. 

Caroline speared a piece of shrimp and narrowed her eyes in warning. “I am very aware of what you do with your magic when you aren’t perfecting fireballs and lightning strikes, Enzo. No need to be rude.”

“Care…”

She chewed carefully, giving herself a moment so she didn’t do something stupid like throw the food at him. The wood floors were brand new. “I’m human. No witchy bloodlines for ten generations or more, and definitely not a werewolf. São Paulo proved that. In spades. So, seriously, there is zero reason for your magic to like me for this.”

A faint grimace. São Paulo had not been a good time. Not for anyone. 

“You know it doesn’t always work like that,” he said patiently, dunking his egg roll repeatedly into the sweet and sour sauce, his expression wry. “Sometimes my magic has a mind of its own.”

She rolled her eyes. “Enzo, tell me something I don’t know.”

A small laugh escaped him. “True.”

“Have I ever done anything, absolutely anything, that would make you think I’d want to have a matchmaker stick their nosy magic in my life?” Caroline set her chopsticks down and started closing containers, her appetite gone. 

A sigh. “No.”

“Damn straight. Isn’t there some kind of ritual involved? Blood magic? The romance novels I read on this subject insisted consent was a factor and blood had to be given willingly, much to the displeasure of several southern mamas.”

He deliberately finished his eggroll, sauce-soggy rice paper and all, chewing methodically. “Normally. This isn’t a… usual situation.”

“Normally?” Sitting back, Caroline waved her hand. “The food buys you an explanation. So start talking.”

Enzo leaned back, chair creaking, and ran a hand through his dark hair. “Look, you’ve been in Europe the last, what? Six months?” 

“Eight, and should I be hurt you weren’t counting?”

He snorted. “You spent the last eight months chasing diamonds. Busy enough you even stopped answering texts in a timely manner, so I imagine you haven’t kept up with what’s been going on.”

“Excuse you? What text did I not respond to?”

“Emoji’s are not words, Caroline.”

Caroline pressed her chin to her palm, gaze narrowed. “Stop being old, Enzo. And let’s be clear. It’s not like I was chasing just any diamonds. These were expensive. The kind of expensive we peons can never actually afford to legally own.”

Enzo rolled his eyes. “I’ve seen your rate sheet. You do just fine.”

She grinned at him. “Thank you, I do very good work. But what does my previous job have to do with the completely ridiculous proposal you brought me?”

“Mason died.”

Caroline arched a brow. “Yeah, I saw. That was impossible to miss. International news, all those TV Pundits talking about who would take over as the US Alpha, blah blah politics. Since he had the bad taste to die outside of a challenge fight, I didn’t have time to worry about it.”

Enzo put the plastic lid back on the sweet and sour sauce, his expression unhappy. “That’s the problem. He did die in a challenge fight.”

“Huh?”

He sighed and pushed his chair back. “This is a bit of a complicated story. As nice as these chairs are, something a little more comfortable might not be adverse.”

“You’re not getting any of the beer in my fridge until I’m sure I’m not kicking you out.” She narrowed her eyes. “The odds are not in your favor.”

“Cruel, but I suppose well deserved.” His chin tipped towards his car, expression amused. “Is now a good time to mention the cheesecake in the trunk of my car?”

“Enzo!”

He laughed and sauntered into her living room, flopping his favorite squishy chair. Caroline picked the couch. She motioned for him to start talking, and he slouched a little further down.

“Look, a lot of this isn’t common knowledge, alright?” Enzo grimaced. “Though it should be and I’m not sure how much longer they are going to manage to keep a lid on how badly the Council screwed this up.”

“Cover up?”

“Among other problems.”

“Mason was their darling.” And, she knew, some factions had whispered, their pawn. She reached up and shoved her bangs back to hide her wince. “Losing a wolf so pro-witch would have been a blow. Losing the top Alpha who was also pro-witch is a political travesty.”

“Political travesty or not, Mason’s dead, and they’re going to have to deal with the new Alpha. He isn’t known for his tolerance.”

“Most werewolves are suspicious of magic,” Caroline pointed out, curling one leg underneath her. “Can’t really blame ‘em, with how they ended up as werewolves. Vengeance, magical curse. That sort of thing tends to sour peoples opinions, and then you know centuries later, they really improved things with their required silver legislation.”

“Yeah, you’re not wrong, but that’s not the kind of tolerance I am talking about.” He leaned back against the chair, and lifted his foot towards the coffee table, pausing, gaze darting towards her narrowed eyes. His foot thumped back against the floor. “The short version is that Mason was challenged, he lost, and the Witch’s Council, for lack of better words, bungled the announcement.”

“How do you bungle an announcement? Challengers have official channels they have to go through and everything.” She pointed at the TV. “They’ve even started wanting to televise the damn things, like it’s some kind of wrestling bout and not a fight to the death.”

Enzo rubbed a hand down his face. “From everything that I’ve been able to tell, Mason just… didn’t expect to lose.”

“That makes no sense. Mason wasn’t young, even by werewolf standards,” Caroline said slowly. “There have been rumors in Europe that he should have been disposed of as much as a century ago. They aren’t really sure why the packs here haven't risen up against him, particularly after the whole issue with his nephew abducting his bride after she’d been paired by the matchmakers to someone else.”

“Tyler Lockwood leads more with his dick than his brains,” Enzo agreed. “And that should have weakened Mason politically, spurring a few challenges. That it didn’t…”

“It’s only been ten years, and that isn’t that long for a werewolf,” Caroline pointed out. “It’s reasonable that the family of the disappointed groom would just now be in a position themselves to pick a fight. Hayley’s family is old blood but not particularly powerful.”

Enzo gave her a dry look. “When do werewolves ever wait to pick fights?”

“When they are going up against the top Alpha in the US and need public opinion behind them. The general public expects a dominance fight or a natural cause of death for all alphas,” she said dryly. 

He nodded in approval. “For someone so disparaging of politics earlier, you do have an excellent grasp of the situation.”

Caroline tossed a cushion at him, which he caught with a grin. “Please, my Mom was the Sheriff and Dad, well, you know Dad. Conspiracy theories and hatred of anything that so much whiffed of the unnatural. But none of that explains what actually happened?”

“We think Mason was using magic to win his challenge fights.”

Her lips parted. “But that’s… the packs would riot. Because something like that…”

“It’s something the Witch Council had to be involved in.”

She inhaled sharply. “That would be a disaster.”

“It is a disaster,” Enzo said bitterly. “There have already been two executions, and several investigations are still pending. We’ve managed to convince the new alpha to hold back the public announcement, but he’s losing patience. We need a solid infrastructure of a plan in place, because humans don’t do well with surprises of this kind, and right now we’re barely holding the alliances together.”

“And what?” Caroline asked exasperated. “The remaining Council has decided to hire a matchmaker? They think since the new Alpha is single, they must be in want of a partner? You’re going to announce the change of leadership, the challenge fight, and then announce he agreed to be matchmade?”

“Something like that.”

“Who is going to trust the Council after something like this?” She shoved her hair away from her face. “If I was the Alpha, I wouldn’t touch anything that they touch with a ten foot pole. That includes matchmaking.”

“I wasn’t hired by the Council, though a couple of my… co-workers have taken those contracts.” He seemed to consider his words and then shrugged. “I was hired by Bekah.”

“Rebekah Mikaelson?” She said, brows arching high. “Why is she involved in this? And I thought you two didn't get along. The last time you were in the same room, she lit your precious robes on fire.”

Enzo’s mouth curved into a slow smile full of male satisfaction. “She’s an odd one, but it’s not the worst way I’ve had someone flirt with me.”

“And the time she declared matchmaking the worst magical school in existence and she hoped you did the world a favor and never reproduced?”

“Charming, isn’t she? I don’t think she really likes children in general.” He looked unbothered. “The bit about my magic was just an attempt to be clever. Her insults have gotten better the more she gets to know me. I appreciate her dedication to getting my attention.”

“Yes, and that is what I am going to put on your gravestone. You finally got the attention you always wanted.” Caroline shook her head. “Insults and spells aside, why did she hire you?”

“Because the Witch Council is right, in a way. It’s going to come out that Mason lost a challenge fight and the witches tried to cover it up.” Enzo reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. “A werewolf who is newly matched has more appeal than a single one, and it’s not a terrible way to divert the press.”

“Is he worried about appeal? Why are you worried about his appeal?” She threw up her hands. “He killed Mason. He is now unequivocally in charge. Why does appeal matter?”

“We need stability.” Enzo’s face went grave. “We can’t afford a year of dominance fights when we’re already struggling with sorting through Mason’s people for traitors. Announcing a match buys us time.”

Caroline froze. “You want the year truce.”

“We need that year, Gorgeous. I’m not sure we’ll survive without it. Pairing off the new alpha? It’s the only way we’re going to get it.”

“And you want me to marry him? Why?”

“Why not you? You’re smart, resourceful, and not bad on the eyes. That you're from a small town will add to your appeal. Small town girl meets werewolf Alpha, and it’s a match. People will love you.”

“I’m a Finder, Enzo. That’s not exactly the most politically correct of jobs.” Her gaze narrowed. “Am I even going to be able to keep working if I agree to this?”

“Once things stabilize, sure, why not?”

“You’re really selling this.”

Enzo shrugged. “You know that one of the true weaknesses of Mason’s was that he refused to find a mate or even attempt a match.”

There had seemingly been a good reason for that. Werewolves were blessed with supernatural strength, a lifespan that more than tripled a normal human’s, and were highly territorial. Most of the time, those instincts could be driven towards their pack and maintaining the careful balance that the world existed in. A werewolf in love was a dangerous creature. Werewolves fighting over their lovers more so.

It was why Enzo’s magic existed. 

“Uh huh,” Caroline drawled, unconvinced. “You're really going to tell an Alpha he can’t claim what’s his unless he agrees to a match, the very thing the last alpha decried as unnecessary. How’s that going? I bet not well.”

“The sooner you say yes, the better, then.”

She glowered at him, but he looked unrepentant.

“Seriously Enzo, matchmaking magic or not, this cannot be your best plan. I cannot be the absolute best idea you have for this.”

“Why not?” He leaned back. “From where I’m sitting, it’s a fantastic plan.”

Caroline’s jaw dropped and she stared at him. He was serious. She knew that set of his jaw, the glint behind his eyes. Matchmaking wasn’t a science, it was magic. A fail safe, a terrible and beautiful promise: that somewhere out there, somewhere, maybe, a soulmate existed. And if you were lucky enough, maybe magic would find them for you.

“Enzo, seriously this time. Why even ask me? You know I’ve never been interested in matchmaking with a werewolf or witch. I like my life.” She spread her arms to include the house. “What you're asking me to do, asking of me, it changes everything. Why?”

He was quiet for several moments, his gaze unfocused. When he spoke, his voice was strangely serious. “My magic likes the match.”

She considered that, shifting to hug her knees to her chest. She’d been friends with Enzo since she was seventeen years old and she’d dragged his half unconscious body out of a car wreck that should have killed him. In turn, he’d been there for her when her mom died and her dad disappeared. He’d helped her get established in her career of choice, even though he’d been disapproving of the reasons why she’d chosen to go into it. 

She trusted him. 

Enzo liked to hide what he could do because he was so good at what he did, and she’d seen him drunk more than once post-match. His magic was not… unkind, but it wasn’t easy, what it demanded of him. To put two people together, with the intention that they’d make a relationship work for possibly hundreds of years. The weight of success and the pain of failure were both so heavy. 

Enzo did not match lightly. 

His magic liked the match. 

Her stomach flipped as she really considered what that meant. No such thing as soul mates, Enzo always insisted, just the endless probabilities of human lives narrowed to a single red thread between two people. And here, he said, was her chance to see if this probability would work for her. 

She couldn’t decide what that made her feel.

“You swear this isn’t about Dad?”

A tip of his head. “While I have no compunction about putting a few hundred werewolves between you and whatever mess he left behind, it’s not about him. You were right. My magic should never have considered you for this. You’ve never wanted to find a match, and honestly, I’ve always liked that about you. And nothing about this is going to be easy. But when Rebekah brought me his blood, all my magic could see was you and the potential you two had together. I could no more deny you the chance to say yes than breathe.”

She groaned under her breath. “This could be a disaster. You know I hate politics, and I’m an only child. I’m terrible at sharing. He’s alpha. Nothing he does is his alone.”

“I know. The circumstances are unusual, so they’ve been willing to negotiate generous terms if things don’t work.” Enzo grinned. “No one wants to trap either of you, not when all parties know that magic isn’t infallible.”

She eyed him. “I don’t like it when you think you’ve got it all figured out.”

A laugh. “Come with me to New York. Give it two years. A year for the truce, a year to fortify whatever weaknesses his enemies attempt to manipulate. At the end, if you want out, no one will stop you. I’ll dissolve the marriage myself. No loopholes.”

Enzo never dissolved marriages. That, more than anything, told her how serious he was about giving her an out. How badly they needed to truce. 

“I guess you really do have this all figured out.” 

“I wish I did, but we both know that’s impossible with something like this. I can only read the magic, and tell you what I see. But I’ll do everything I can to help you.” He smiled ruefully. “We’ve gotten good at hiding bodies, what’s a few more?”

Caroline wasn’t sure she should have found that comforting, but she did. “And just who am I agreeing to consider marrying?”

Enzo suddenly coughed and stood, a familiar hint of devilment twisting his lips. “Klaus Mikaelson.”

She spluttered. “Klaus Mikaelson? You want me to marry Klaus? He killed Mason?”

His smile widened. “Yes.”

Caroline gawked at him. Before she’d gone to Europe, Klaus Mikaelson had been the third most powerful Alpha. Young, handsome, devastatingly charming, he made people forget just how terrifying he could be with a pair of dimples that raised the blood pressure of every woman past puberty. 

He was also Rebekah Mikaelson’s half brother. 

Enzo had been entertaining her for years about the Mikaelson sibling dynamic. Klaus had not been spared in those stories, and while she’d never met him, she knew two very important things: he was built on lines that had always, always snagged her attention, and the sharp temper of his wolf, the brutality of his temper, hid a clever, agile mind that made him dangerous to underestimate.

“Enzo!” She protested. “Klaus?”

Sliding his hands in his pockets, he spun towards her door. “Yup.”

“Just where do you think you are going?”

Enzo tossed her a grin over his shoulder. “To get your cheesecake. You didn’t think I lied about that, did you? And you might as well fetch me that beer. We both know I’m not going anywhere until tomorrow, at the earliest.”

Caroline stared at his back as the door clanged behind him, heart hammering in her throat for a hundred reasons she couldn’t explain.