#awful wedding. they are so happy they look at eachother like they fell in love for the first time all over again. they want to die also.

[zours025]

Theory of FrUk. (in my crazyperson eyes)

[snowgoldwaylon]

Could you write a fic where Adler is in love with the reader and had a chance to be with her but was too scared to make a move even though she wanted him too. so reader eventually moves on and after a while is getting married to Mason and Adler is now regretting not taking his chance. Based off the song Marry Me by Thomas Rhett?

No Second Chances - Russell Adler X Alex Mason X Reader

Give a big thank you to my sister for sending in the best requests! I love you girl, here is your fic! ❤

TW: Strong language, angst, anger.

Russell was making the two hour drive from his home town, to go watch you and Alex Mason get married. He pulled out a cigarette, and lit it. This trip was going to be so bittersweet, it's all he thought of since he had received the white and gold invitations in the mail.

Almost 5 years after hunting Perseus, the CIA decided to crackdown for a while and pursue finding other leads. You and Mason fell hard for eachother and it lead up to this moment. But, Adler was remincing, and finally saw how much he fucked up and let you go.

From the moment Russell Adler saw you, even while you were being brainwashed, he felt strong feelings towards you. He simply couldn't help the fact that you lit up the whole room, and made everybody's day better. He was afraid of how you would take his confession.

Even after losing Lazar in Cuba, you brought comfort to everybody. That's when he finally realized his feelings for you. But, he also noticed something else as well.....

Adler couldn't help but notice how you fell googly-eyed when Mason entered the room. And he also noticed how Mason was just as crazy for you, he talked about you all the time. Mason practically had heart eyes and a nosebleed when your name was said.

This never sat right with Adler. He felt the same way for you, but he knew with Mason, you'd never ever return how he felt. It was just something he would have to accept, now that you were getting married.

Love Hurts by Nazareth had came on at that moment. Adler sighed in annoyance, and emotional pain. Why did this song have to come on right now? Why couldn't the universe just leave him alone about this?

He took the exit he needed off the interstate, and drove a little longer until he reached the location of the venue. Outside, in a huge, white sign said "MASON - Y/L/N WEDDING HERE" stood out easily where everyone parked. He turned in, parked, and turned off his car.

Adler took a deep breath, and got out. He quickly brushed off his black suit, straightened out his tie, and tucked away his cigarettes into his coat pocket. He made his way to the front door where he was greeted by Frank Woods.

"Oh hey Doc, how's it hangin'? Long and hairy, hard to carry?" Frank chuckled.

Adler sent a small chuckle his way, and knocked him jokingly with his elbow.

"Nah, more like short and stubby, kinda chubby." Adler laughed.

The two men shared a laugh, and a hug.

"It's good to see you brother. Can you believe these two are finally tying the knot today??" Frank asked, as both men walked to the where the seating was at.

Adler almost cringed, but played it off as a cough. They took a seat, and exchanged some more talking for a while.

"Yeah, I remember them meeting for the first in the Safehouse. It's really hard to believe." Adler said.

Woods and Adler gave more small talk, until it was time for Woods to go into the building, and do the routine they practiced. He was a best man after all!

"Hey man, gotta go. It's show time!" Frank said, slapping Adler in the back.

Adler turned front, and waited for the music to start. He felt a tap on his left shoulder, and he looked up. Park stood in front of him, dressed up.

"Can I sit with you? I'm a little late as you can see." She asked.

Adler nodded, and she sat down next to him. Soon, all the seats were filled, and it was ready to start. Adler and Park talked about upcoming missions and next moves until the sound of Guns N' Roses song, November Rain filled everyone's ears.

Immediately, everybody turned their heads as the beautiful sounds of the live piano and orchestra filled the outside archway, the reverend stood at the end of it.

Bridesmaids, groomsmen stepped out first. After them, the maid of honor and best man. Finally, Alex walked out with the biggest smile on his face. Adler felt a mix of happiness, and a hint of jealously.

Everyone stood up very quickly when the most beautiful part of the music hit it's gorgeous, smooth Forte sound. It was perfect timing, as from the glass doors, you began the walk down the isle with Belikov.

You had asked Belikov to walk you down the isle, and give you away, as you didn't have contact with your biological father. So, Belikov was the crazy man that had practically adopted you as his own. He was holding back tears at this moment!

Adler got you into focus. He even took off his sunglasses just for a better look. Everything about you lookee more than perfect. Your hair, your dress, flowers, you name it. Adler had never felt more hopeless.

Once you reached the end, Belikov quickly gave you a kiss on the forehead, and took a seat. There, the ceremony went forth. With words from the reverend, and beautiful, tear jerking vows exchanged by you both, the time came.

"Do you, Y/N Y/L/N, take Alex Mason to be yours forever to keep, to cherish, in sickness and in health?"

"I do."

"And do you, Alex Mason take Y/N Y/L/N to be yours forever to keep, to cherish, in sickness and in health?"

"I do."

"From the power vested in me, I now pronounce you married! Alex, you may kiss your bride!"

And Mason did just that. He brought you in for a breathtaking kiss, with a tight hold. The venue erupted into cheers as you both pulled away. Adler felt happiness, and sadness as he watched. He knew, he'd never have you now.

The bridal and groom party all lead the way inside where the food and alcohol was to be served. Adler walked with Park and Sims, and took a seat near where the buffet was. They waited for the wedding photos to be done so everyone could dine.

After everyone came back, and it was announced that the food was being served, Adler went up and was the first person to officially congratulate the married couple. Both you and Mason smiled the hardest when you saw the blonde walk up.

"Hey you two, congratulations." Adler said with a smile.

He slipped you both a small wrapped gift. You took it and smiled up at him.

"Thank you, Russell. It's been awhile since we've seen you, how's everything going? We'll be back after this in two weeks. We are heading to Korea for our honeymoon!" You exclaimed.

"Well that's awesome! And it's alright. The bald man is still giving me grief about every little thing. But, we are looking forward to seeing you both back afterwards."

You grabbed a hold of Mason's hand, and smiled. You took a sip of wine as Mason spoke.

"Yeah, I understand that. Hudson is a hard ass at times, but it's worth it. Well man, hey it's time to open the bar. Why don't you meet me at the dance floor?" Mason said to Adler.

Adler laughed, and shook his head.

"Oh for sure man, for sure."

After everyone ate and gotten the booze of their choice, the dance floor was opened. Everyone watched in awe and beauty as you and Mason had the first dance. Adler thought about how beautiful it was, but he also thought about how he wished that was him.

He pushed these feelings aside when he saw Mason dip you, and pull you back for a kiss. He turned on his heel, and made a bee-line straight for the bar.

"Whiskey on the rocks, please."

And for the rest of the wedding, the night ended with fireworks, and a few karaoke performances by Woods, Sims, Mason, Park, and they even got Hudson up there to sing. Adler glanced at the memorial table that was set up for Lazar. And in the back at the table, a seat reserved for him.

He then turned back to watch you. You caught him, and smiled, before returing to the arms of Mason.

Adler knew after all this, there was no second chances.

Taglist: @wennbergbabe @smokeywhalee @justagenderfluidstuff @kazazure @americas-monster @direwolfspostsrandomshit @kapanovangswife

[pillage-and-lute]

An Ever Fixed Mark (Part 11)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, (here)

Read it on Ao3 HERE

                                                     🐺 🌼 🐺

Geralt didn’t even make it a day.

He left Oxenfurt behind at dawn, riding Roach, alone, just like he always was. There was water here, a river, and trees. They were willow trees, weeping over the sludgy river, bending to sweep the water and Geralt thought of Jaskier’s mother, of the flash of an opal ring on Jaskier’s hand. The Pontar was wide and slow here, and Geralt thought of a hidden pool, far in a forest, and Jaskier talking about his mother. 

Maybe he wasn’t half dryad, maybe he was. Maybe it wouldn’t mean anything but...but what if his life was longer than a human’s? Geralt didn’t want to have to lose him anytime soon, but what if he wouldn’t have to? 

Geralt realized he’d already lost Jaskier. He’d betrayed his husband’s trust, kissing a witch and leaving him. He was still injured. Melitele’s tits, Geralt was an asshole. He’d hurt Jaskier. On purpose. 

A clean break, what the hell was he thinking? They were married, there was no ‘clean break’. They’d have to see eachother eventually. He’d look into beautiful eyes and they’d be full of hatred. He’d see his husbands solid frame and watch the posture become closed and standoffish. Perhaps Jaskier’s words would even turn cold. Toss A Coin would never be heard in taverns again, instead something else. Witchers Are Selfish Bastards could become the next hit. 

He couldn’t protect Jaskier though. The doublet was just that, a doublet. It was a pretty thing, not armor. Geralt could wrap the entire bard in basilisk leather and he still might never be safe. 

But at least you’d be there to fight for him, whispered a treacherous part of Geralt’s mind. He spurred Roach faster, as if he could outrun the thought.

What if there was a barfight? Sure, Jaskier could take care of himself, but if there were no knives around? No weapons? What if he got jumped in an alleyway, or fell ill and he was too sick to find a healer?

Surely having Geralt there was better than nothing. 

Jaskier might not even want Geralt back, not after he’d run like a coward and a fool. 

Without his permission, Geralt’s hands had turned Roach’s reins back towards Oxenfurt. It was dusk, they’d ridden without stopping for food to escape Geralt’s wretched thoughts, and he felt bad for riding her so hard. 

“Treats for you,” he said. “And the finest stable in Oxenfurt, I swear it. Just get me there.”

Roach didn’t seem to mind. She didn’t even need Geralt to nudge her into a gallop, she turned and ran, bolting across the damp earth like a streak of lighting. Jaskier surely would have called her a heroic steed. Geralt would be sure to tell him, just as soon as he was at Oxenfurt. 

Geralt’s heart felt lighter already. He was racing, the wind in his hair, rippling across his face. He wasn’t leaving Jaskier, he’d never leave him again, not ever. He’d bundle him in all the finest things, armor him with dragon scale if he had to. 

Jaskier would sit by the fire in Kaer Morhen and Vesemir would teach him the old songs. Geralt would hunt for him, buy him baked goods, make him fat and happy and shining through and through with joy. And if he got old Geralt would love him. If Jaskier grew too old to travel, Geralt would stay in Kaer Morhen year-round. He’d carry Jaskier up stairs if he had to. He’d learn to play music if Jaskier ever couldn’t play anymore, he’d tap out rhythms if his husband ever went deaf.

His husband. Geralt loved him. He loved him so much and his eyes were streaming. It was so rare that a witcher could cry but he was. He loved his husband so much that this one day without him had been the worst of his life. He’d thought it had been seeing Jaskier hurt, fearing him dying. That had been awful, but if death took Jaskier from him, Geralt would fight death itself. 

There was a story, he knew, of a bard who took his love back from death, leading her from the underworld. He’d looked back, so the story said, to make sure his love was still with him. Geralt was a witcher, though, he wouldn’t need to look to know Jaskier was there. 

Jaskier being gone from his life was an almost unbearable thought, but Geralt could live with it. If Jaskier died or left of his own accord, Geralt would survive. To push him away, however, to be the reason Jaskier left him, that was unbearable. 

Roach’s legs moved like a landslide under her, hoofbeats so fast they merged into one. Geralt’s slow heart matched pace. He would go, he would lay himself prone on the floor of wherever Jaskier stayed, and he would beg forgiveness.

He would earn his forgiveness. 

And if Jaskier ever forgave him, and if he ever returned Geralt’s feelings, Geralt would kiss him. 

The thought gave him wings. 

He would kiss Jaskier. He’d wind his hand in that thick, dark hair, loop the other arm around his waist, and dip him back, the way fancy gentlemen did. He’d kiss him the way he should have kissed him on their wedding day. He’d kiss Jaskier so that there could be no doubt in his husband’s mind that he was the most important person in Geralt’s life. And then he’d kiss him again, and again, and again. 

Geralt would learn about poetry and art and music so that Jaskier had someone to discuss it with. He’d teach him witcher lore and monster zoology, so that they had the knowledge in common. He’d teach Jaskier to fight, not just bar fighting, he’d be able to defend himself if Geralt ever failed him.

Geralt was never going to fail him again. 

The lights of Oxenfurt were visible. When Geralt had last raced to the city Jaskier had been wounded by bandits. Now, his heart had been wounded by Geralt’s own hand. 

He pulled out his xenovox, pressing it desperately. 

“What?” she snapped. “It’s almost midnight, can’t you go a day without bothering me?”

“Where is he?” Geralt asked. “Where is he staying?”

“You just got rid of him, now you want him back?” 

“Yes, Yennefer it was a mistake, I can’t lose him where is he? Tell me!”

“Essi Daven has a placement at the university, she may have quarters there, ask her.”

Geralt didn’t even thank Yennefer, just stuffed the xenovox in his bag and turned Roach, her ironshod hooves ringing against the cobbles. 

The bulk of the university lay across the city like an old dog lying on a rug. Geralt headed for the living quarters, dodging Roach around drunken students and midnight revellers, sometimes the same people. 

A man was sweeping in a quiet courtyard. 

“You,” Geralt called, almost falling off Roach in his haste. “Essi Daven, where can I find her?” 

The man looked up, eyed Geralt with distaste, and pointed toward a wing of the building. Here, there were doors, facing the coutyard, each door marked with a name. 

Yes, dormitories. 

Geralt ran up the row. They were organized by name, two on each door. He’d started at the wrong end. He passed Willow and Worthington, Umber and Urdock, Smith and Silverly. He sped up. Marx and Mannock, Lee and Lorntin...

He skidded to a stop.

Davidson and Daven. He hammered on the door, shaking it on it’s hinges until it was swung open. 

There was a small woman there, glaring at him behind a mane of golden hair. Only one eye was visible. 

“What do you want?”

“Essi Daven?”

Like a snake, she stepped forward, into Geralt’s space, putting a long knife to his throat. 

“You’re here for Jaskier,” she said. 

“I made a mistake,” Geralt said. “I need to see him.”

“You don’t need to do anything but leave him alone,” she hissed. “I ought to slice you open like a pig.”

“I want to make it up to him,” Geralt begged. “I have to, please, I love him.”

“You abandoned him,” she said like poison. 

“And if I do it again I swear I will deliver myself to your door so you can gut me with your knife but please,” Geralt reached up a hand and lowered her knife, which she allowed him to do without stabbing him. “Please, if I lose him because I was stupid and drove him away, I think I’ll just have to lay down and die.”

“He’s crazy about you,” Essi said, eyes narrowed. 

“I’m crazier for him, I promise,” Geralt said. His heart was soaring. Jaskier was crazy about him.

“He cried his eyes out all day,” Essi said. Geralt’s heart landed with a thud. 

“Let me make it up to him,” Geralt said. “Please.”

“You’re going to need more than a pretty face.”

“I’ll do anything.”

Essi snorted. “He’s not here, he’s at the Fiddler’s Bow inn. If he wants to see you, go ahead, if he doesn’t leave him the fuck alone.”

Geralt nodded solemnly. 

He had to find something that would show Jaskier how he felt. Something perfect. He mounted Roach again and she nickered questioningly. 

“What do you get someone you love?” Geralt asked her quietly. 

She whinnied. “Oats,” she was probably saying. “And a nice stable.”

Geralt rode her down streets, ambling rather than searching for the inn. He’d find it, but he needed the perfect gift first.

He’d know what he needed when he saw it. 

Oxenfurt never slept, but many of the shops had closed for the night. Geralt trotted Roach past them, until he saw one. It had a large, paned glass display window, an expensive luxury. Inside were weapons of all makes and sizes. 

Geralt thought about purchasing a dagger for Jaskier, but daggers weren’t special enough. They were a good gift, not a great one. Geralt dismounted and peered through the glass. A light was on in the back, and he knocked at the door. 

There were shields and axes in the shop, but the lacked the grace that Geralt wanted. There were swords, some covered in jewels, which were certainly beautiful enough, but the decoration would throw off the balance. 

Geralt heard clattering from inside.

A little old man opened up the shop door, peering up at Geralt.

“You’re a mighty big fella,” he said. “Witcher are ya? I’m closed you know.”

“I know, sir,” Geralt said. “I apologize, but it’s a matter of the utmost importance.”

“Ah, broken a sword have you?” Said the old man, sticking his hand out to shake. His grip was like iron, despite his age. He was definitely the swordsmith, then. 

“No sir, I need a gift, true love is on the line,” it was a horribly florid thing to say, but Geralt couldn’t bear to lie to the old man, who reminded him oddly of Vesemir, despite his bent posture and small size.

“Ah, dueling for her honor?” asked the smith, hobbling to one of the display stands.

“No, sir. Begging his forgiveness.”

“Do you deserve to be forgiven?”

“...maybe,” Geralt said, reluctantly. 

“Aha!” Said the shopkeeper. “Slept with someone else have you?”

“No!”

“Lied to him?”

“Not that I can think of.”

The man leaned close, strangely pale eyes searching. “Killed someone he cares for?”

“Never, I...I abandoned him. I left him alone, I shouldn’t have,” Geralt admitted.

The old man tutted. “Not the easiest mistake to remedy, young man.” 

Geralt realized that he and the man were probably fairly close in age. 

“But,” the man said. “Not without hope, I think. And you want to give him a weapon?”

“Yes,” Geralt said, mouth dry. “Something that can keep him safe.”

“In case you can’t?” 

Geralt flinched. “Yes.”

“Is he a warrior like yourself, your young man?”

“A poet and bard, but he can fight as well.”

“Mhhm,” said the old man, running his hands over his stock. “He likes fine things?”

“Yes, but not at the expense of practicality.”

“Indeed,” said the man. “And he is right handed?”

“Left handed,” Geralt said. 

“Aha,” said the man, softly. “I have just the sword.” He lifted a long, thin blade from a rack. 

“It’s an unusual style,” he said, holding it out in both hands. “A rapier, it’s called. They’re thin and light, and this,” he held the sword by it’s handle, a strange, twisting cage of metal protecting his hand. “This crosspiece will keep his poet’s fingers from damage.”

“I’ve never seen it’s like,” Geralt said, carefully taking the proffered sword. “It’s so thin, will it break if he parries?”

“It is unlikely, the blade is damascarine steel, the blow will merely deflect down to the crosspiece.”

Geralt observed the blade, witcher eyes letting inn all the light from the dim shop so he could see the wavy pattern in the thin blade where the steel had been twisted and folded back on itself. 

He turned from the shopkeeper and raised the sword, feeling it’s balance. Much too light for him, but for Jaskier...Geralt turned the sword tip-down and measured the height of the crosspiece. Yes, it would be about at Jaskier’s belly button, the right length. 

“It’s perfect,” Geralt said. The sword looked like a line of moonlight, the handle was elegant with it’s swooping, twisting lines, and it was deadly. It was Jaskier, through and through.

The moonlight coming in through the windows glinted off the sword as the man took it back, gently, sheathing it in a smooth, black leather sheath. 

Geralt paid the asking price without haggle. For the craftsmanship, and opening his shop in the middle of the night, the price was more than fair. He would have gladly paid double, he’d never seen an equal to the sword he carried now.

Geralt didn’t hold it like a sword as he remounted Roach. He held the rapier flat across his knees like an offering to the gods. 

He stayed there a moment, astride his horse, and closed his eyes. He breathed in. He breathed out. He was about to open his eyes but...there, chamomile and sun-dried grass. 

He opened his eyes, afraid the action would dissipate the scent, but it was still there. Jaskier had been nearby. 

He trotted Roach forward, seeing with his nose. He lost the scent by an irreputable ale house that smelled of sick and stale beer, so he turned and looked around. There was another tavern down the street and he rode towards it slowly. Music poured from it, even at this late hour. Jaskier would have come here, instead of the other alehouse. 

Up alongside the tavern he could smell dry grass again, mixed with salt. Jaskier had cried here, but the salt-scent left, trailing down the street. 

Geralt’s heart was heavy as he followed the smell of his husband’s tears. He’d done this, he had to fix it, and he had just the one chance. It couldn’t wait until morning. If the sun dawned and this wasn’t fixed, Geralt just knew he’d have lost his chance, Jaskier would be lost to him forever. 

The tears stopped. 

Geralt loked up. 

The Fiddler’s Bow. He didn’t even speak to the innkeeper as he walked up the stairs and gently knocked on the door. 

He could hear the familiar beat of Jaskier’s heart behind it. His own tried to match time. 

A bedraggled and red eyed Jaskier opened the door. Geralt knelt and took one of Jaskier’s hand’s in both of his. 

For a second that was all there was. 

Then Geralt spoke. 

“I was a fool,” he said. “I saw you, hurt, and I was frightened, because I hadn’t been able to protect you.”

Jaskier tried to pull his hand from Geralt’s grasp, but Geralt didn’t let go. “Please, Jaskier,” he said, gold eyes meeting blue. “Hear me out, and then if you never wish to see me again I swear on the medallion at my throat you will never have to.”

Words weren’t easy for Geralt, but he prayed he’d be granted just a sliver of the power Jaskier had over them. This was more than life or death, this was love or loss, and Geralt couldn’t bear to lose this.

“I am in love with you,” Geralt said, looking Jaskier straight in the eyes. “The thought of losing you scared me so badly that I turned like a coward and ran, but,” Geralt swallowed around the lump in his throat. “The thought of losing you,” a sob, “Because I pushed you away, Jaskier, it’s so much worse.”

He pulled out the sword in it’s scabbard, placing it tip down on the floor and holding it like a cross. “I want to teach you to fight, so that you can’t be taken from me, and I want you to teach me to sing, so that you won’t grow bored of me.”

“Please,” Jaskier,” he said, shoulders trembling. “I swear on my soul, I swear on the soulds of the men who raised me, I will never abandon you again.”

Jaskier was crying, rivers of saltwater, silver in the moonlight, trailing down his cheeks. A drop fell on Geralt’s hand as he proffered the sword. 

“I love you,” Geralt said simply. 

Jaskier stood there and cried, chest wracked with sobs. Then he took the sword in both hands. His fingertips brushed across the back of Geralt’s hand and the witcher shivered. 

“You kissed her.”

“The Law of Surprise,” Geralt said. “I had just pledged my devotion and care to you, it was your great windfall. We thought it meant I love her, but I don’t.” Geralt stood, reaching forward one large and travel-stained hand to brush the tears from Jaskier’s cheeks. 

“The kiss just made me realize how much I never want to kiss anyone but you, ever again.”

Jaskier leaned his cheek into the cradle of Geralt’s hand. “I forgive you,” he said. 

Geralt stepped forward, taking Jaskier’s sword and setting it aside, then he wrapped his arms around Jaskier, admiring how they were of a height. 

Jaskier leaned his forhead against Geralt’s, and the pair just stood, breathing the same air. 

“I love you too.”

It was whispered, but it shook Geralt’s world. 

Jaskier’s arms came up and twined around Geralt’s neck, drawing him even close. 

“Please,” Geralt begged. “May I kiss you?”

He felt Jaskier nod. 

Geralt had imagined a kiss on his desperate return. He’d imagined how Jaskier’s hair would be so soft under his hand, how Jaskier’s arms would feel so warm around him, he’d been right. 

He could never have imagined the wonder of kissing Jaskier, though, not truly. Joy flared in Geralt’s heart like a wildfire, consuming him. The world burned around them and Geralt didn’t care because having Jaskier in his arms, kissing him like this, this was the only thing he could ever want. 

This was everything the kiss on their wedding day wasn’t and should have been. All the sounds of the city rushed in Geralt’s ears and he didn’t hear any of them, because Jaskier’s lips were sweet and warm and slightly chapped, and Jaskier’s hand was digging oddly into his ribs, and it was perfection. 

                                                   🐺 🌼 🐺

Almost done! I think there will maybe be one more chapter to tie up all the loose ends. Although I suspect at some point I’ll be unable to resist writing some husbands-in-Kaer-Morhen fluff. 

Tag List!

@llamasdumpsterfire @stinastar @aziz-the-fangirl  @mordoriscalling @bastardofmothman @negativenuggetz @morte-mistrata  @ailorian @hayleynzlive @filledepluie @bygodstillam @sociowithatardisachevyandawand @faery-god  @honeysuckletook @theflurtifly @saibowtie  @werevampiwolf    @frywen-babbles @the-kewlest  @innocentbi-stander @1stbonesfan   @aqueenrisesintheeast @toothhurtyam @marauders-fan-account @ineffable-lasagna @limevodka @rocknrollphanda @seralyra  @permanently-exhausted-witcher  @aj-itated   @watchthewolvesfall  @00qtea  @the-blondey @birds-of-forgiveness @westmoor  @abstractartwithoutpaint @darkonesdagger7437    @onwardsandfourwords  @underwaterattribute @whenrainbowsend @goldbvtton @little-piece-of-tamlin @in-love-with-writing002 @flustratedcas   @fontegagrilledcheese @so--many-fandoms @kirk-spock-in-the-impala @oniongrass @flowercrown-bard @maya-the-yellow-bee   @comfyswitcherblanketfort @wellthisstinks  @thenameislion-dandelion  @flowercrown-bard @obsessedchildsworld @debellatis @zotinha456 @tumbleweedtech @goblin-loves-shiny-things @birdsflyhome @holymotherwolf @the-shenny-of-azkaban  @darkangel91939  @enkelikauneus    @saphiramalbec  @silvermirror1997  @just-a-himbo-and-his-feral-bard   @iamaqt314  @itsthelittlethingsnlife @oneshots-galore @inikokoru @gryffinqueen @anythinggoesfandoms @artemisthehuntress @pomegranatebitch @nuitarius @ub-sessed @tookarma  @spearmint-honk  @nicelytousled @wingirl2015 @live-long-and-trek-on   @kingcitywitch  @flowrhippieprincess @oneshots-galore @laughingatlivedragons @nanamis-trophy-wife   @annafortoday @dapperanachronism  @jaybeefoxy @gods-no-longer-tread-here @flustratedcas @nbspaceboy   @comorbid-corvid  @ellwren @red-wasabi89   @ouradarablelove  @chanonce

[otptings]

Life Goes On

→Idols: Wong Kunhang & Xiao Dejun

→Requested: Yessss Hi!!! I’m a new follower and literally fell in love with your writing ^o^ May I request an angsty right person at the wrong time scenario with either Xiaojun or Hendery, thank you!

→Genre: Right Person Wrong Time, angst, fluff

→Word Count: 2.7k+

→Warnings: self degradation, implied cheating, Hendery's an asshole, Xiao's a savior, kinda self indulgent (apologies)

→Synopsis: Life's not far. You either have to learn how to swim or drown in your own misery.

→A/n: I honestly surprised myself when I finished this cause I'm actually behind on a couple requests but I really enjoyed writing this. I hope you enjoy reading this, and if you did please like, reblog or donate to my Ko-Fi in my bio. Requests are open for NCT, Enhypen, SVT, and Treasure.

Life isn’t fair, and it isn’t always right. Things don’t end the way you want them to, and no amount of begging or wishing or sacrificing will change fate. So you can only sit there, watch as life moves on without you in it. You either learn how to swim or drown in your own misery.

You swam.

Wong Kun-Hang, you’re child-hood bestfriend. The two of you met long ago. Back when the biggest problems were early bedtimes, or begging your parents for the newest toys. When scraped knees and torn tights were a constant part of your life. In the 2nd grade when he was the new kid, you were too nervous to talk to him so you gave him a special Valentine’s Day card, the one with the carton fish with the really funny joke on it that made you giggle while you were placing various heart stickers on it, accompanied by two pieces of candy instead of one. One of your parents had helped you sign it specially with your name, not just your initials. Although it was scribbled it was still readable. You were nervous walking up to his desk, fixing your school uniform as best you could before shyly handing it to him, trying to hide the heat that was rising in your cheeks and ears.

“Hi.” Kun-Hang looked up at you, a look matching yours on his face. You saw his paper bag for his cards was bare, Kun-Hang covering the front of it in the teacher’s cursive due to him not having time to decorate it. It was empty, devoid of any Valentines, and he hadn’t brought any to give out so he didn’t even have his own. It was sad compared to yours, filled almost to the brim with cute cards and candy.

“Hi.” Hendery’s voice was almost a whisper. He wasn’t prepared for anyone to talk to him, he had only been in your class for a week and hadn’t had enough time to make friends.

“I want to be your friend. Here’s a Valentine’s card.” Where you ignored the heat in your cheeks it was obvious to see Kun-Hang’s awkward smile adorning his face as his cheeks glowed a light red. It was too late to back down now, so you thrust the card out towards him and watched as he timidly took it before sending him a bright smile and scurrying off to your desk, the teacher’s voice telling the class to calm down.

You looked towards the teacher, patiently waiting for their instruction while Kun-Hang only looked at you, awe in his eyes while replaying the moment you walked up to.

Years have gone by since that fateful day that you handed him the card and declared that you wanted to be his friend and you’re still just as close. The day after Valentine’s Kun-Hang stayed by your side faithfully, sitting beside you at lunch and playing with you and your friends at recess. At first he was still awkward, not knowing just where he fit into your life, but everytime you held your hand out to him or handed him a spare cookie from your lunchbox he got a little more comfortable until you were connected at the hip.

As the friend group gradually grew smaller due to everyone else moving away or transferring schools, you and Kun-Hang stayed together, evolving into something more than just childhood best-friends. Shared cookies turning into something else just as sweet, innocent pecks when you thought no one else was watching, holding hands having a new meaning when he pulls you under the bleachers of your high school during your share P.E. class to hold you close  as he whispers his feelings for you. He was your perfect love story, your first and only boyfriend. Even now at 20, watching him live his dream life as an idol you still have the same feeling from the first time you met him, that bashful shy feeling as you watching him smile on stage and during fanmeets. The pretty diamond ring on your finger glinting in the various strobe lights they use for their concert, a comforting weight that makes your heart flutter when you think about the day that the two of you will get married.

Life always throws a wrench into pretty plans don’t though.

“It’s just not working out with her.” Confusion filled your mind hearing Hendery’s voice through the phone. Calling out his name gave you no answer. “She’s so clingy, she refuses to back off and give me any space.”

“Aren’t you getting married?”

“I don’t think I can go through with it. I don’t want to leave her at the altar though.”

“I thought you guys were perfect for eachother? Haven’t you been together since middle school?”

“I know, I know. I don’t think I ever liked her in that way. She’s my only relationship but I just don’t see her in that light. She’s more like an annoying little sister than a girlfriend.”

“You’re a fucking douchebag Hendery.”

“I know. She really loves me, but I don’t think I ever saw her romanctically. She was the only option. I really don’t want to ruin the friendship, but I don’t love her.”

You don’t remember hanging up the phone. Or sending him the message.

You accidentally called me, you don’t have to be miserable just to make me happy. I’m sorry I couldn’t be good enough for you.

I didn’t want you to find out this way. I really do like you, you’re my best friend.

But you don’t love me the way that I love you

I’m sorry.

Don’t be sorry. Goodbye Hendery.

-

Hendery couldn’t ignore the smile that grew on his face, the heavy feeling over his chest lifting.

“What happened to you? Why are you so happy?” Ten questioned while chewing on the cookie he stole from Kun, slight concerned at how over the span of a half hour Hendery’s expression could go from forlorn over the thought of the wedding to ecstatic as he jumped up from the couch, staring at his phone that was clenched tightly in his hand.

“She broke up with me.” His smile grew impossibly bigger while Xiao’s face dropped. “I accidentally called her while we were talking and she said we don’t have to be together.” If Hendery wasn’t so busy cheering about his new found freedom he would’ve felt how the tensions rose in the room, or saw how Xiao looked at him with disgust as he slid his engagement ring off of his finger and tossed it on the coffee table. As if it meant nothing to him.

“So you used her?” An uneasy silence settled over the room while Yangyang made a quick exit, not wanting to witness anything. Hendery’s smile swiftly disappeared at Xiao’s accusatory tone. “And you’re celebrating your ‘freedom’ while she’s heart broken?” A cold chuckle punctuated his statement.

“I didn’t mean for her to overhear the conversation. But she broke up with me. If she’s hurt it’s her fault.” Hendery tried to plead his case, looking around at his other groupmates that were present but they refused to meet his eyes, all sharing Xiao’s sentiments on the situation. “I never wanted her to fall in love with me.”

Xiao couldn’t ignore the way that his fist shook hearing Hendery say that. He was already angered hearing how casually Hendery talked about his lack of feelings, no remorse evident in his voice. Clenching his jaw to hide the obscenities and curses that he wanted to spout on each of Hendery’s weekly rants about your relationship. But hearing just how casually he used you and didn’t care, that was Xiao’s last straw.

“So you fucking used her, and are now blaming it on her?” The room went stilent and the tension was so thick that you could cut it with a knife. Xiao walked closer to Hendery, crossing the coffee table that kept them separated. Then he threw the first punch.

No one was expecting it, hearing the crack when Xiao’s fist connected with Hendery’s nose. Hendery didn’t have time to recover enough to retaliate before Lucas was picking Xiao off of his feet and hauling him out of the room. “Fucking stay away from her or I’ll fucking kill you.”

-

Xiao knew that it was stupid to fall for you, even dumber since you were head over heels in love with Hendery, someone who didn’t deserve even an ounce of you. He knew that you would never see him in that light, naively hung up on Hendery, so he did the next best thing. Become your friend.

Sure, he knew that he was only a rebound, only truly talking to you whenever Hendery was too busy - ignoring you - to entertain you, so you turned to Xiao. He knew that there was never way you would love him the way that he loved you, but he didn’t care. He’d be whatever you wanted him to be, even if it was perpetually stuck pining after you.

That’s the only explainable reason as to why he snuck out of the dorm after receiving the text from you.

I need you Dejun

It wasn’t hard to leave the dorm, Sicheng and Ten were too busy worrying about Hendery’s nose and if it was broken or not. All Xiao had to do was slip out of the front door. He didn’t bother asking the manager for a ride, walking would do just fine. Your apartment wasn’t too far from the dorm, there was no sweat off his back. Until the clouds broke open and it started to rain profusely when Xiao was only a block away from your apartment.

That explains why you answered the frantic knocking at your door to be met with a soaking wet Xiao, hair plastered to his forehead from the rain and shirt appearing like a second skin.

“What the hell happened? Come in, hurry.” Moving to the side you quickly pulled Xiao inside, feeling guilty at the way that he shook from the cold.

“It rained a little bit.” Despite the pain in your chest, and your eyes burning from the amount of tears that you had shed you couldn’t help but giggle.

“That’s an understatement. I’ll get you a towel and some clothes so you can change.”

Twenty minutes later the two of you were awkwardly facing eachother. You’ve never truly hung out by yourself, the boys were always a buffer between the two of you. The teddy bear that you were clutching against your chest being the only thing to separate you, your light pink blanket seeming almost childish with Xiao sitting on it. The gigantic hoodie that you stole from your brother draped over his frame, almost drowning him in the sheer amount of fabric.

“Are you okay?” He was the first to break the silence, eyes finally meeting yours and softening out of compassion. The sight of him pitying you caused the tears to prick at your eyes, glancing down while you absentmindely played with the fraying ends of the blanket.

“Why would I be? Hearing that my fiance didn’t love me. I was a burden to him our whole relationship. An annoying little sister.” Letting out a joyless chuckle at the irony of it all, a fiance that saw you as a little sister. You hadn’t realized that warm tears were falling down your cheeks, darkening the light pink fabric where they hit, littering it with drops of magenta. “How was I so stupid? I should’ve seen it comer when he started staying at the studio later and later when there was no comeback. Was he even staying at the studio? Was there someone else?” You looked up at Xiao, trying to blink away the blurry vision to find any answer for the questions you desperately asked. Xiao’s hand came up to cup your cheek, wiping the tears away. The sweet motion caused you to let out a sob, launching yourself into Xiao’s arm.

Xiao’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you onto his lap. You couldn’t be bothered to feel awkward or uncomfortable at the strange position, only burying your face into the hoodie and letting your tears soak the fabric. Xiao sighed, biting back his own emotions as he listened to you choke on your sobs, feeling your body shake with every wretched wail that left your mouth. All because of Hendery. If it weren’t for you clutching onto the fabric of the hoodie so tightly that it could rip out of fear of Xiao leaving he might’ve gone back to the dorm and broken Hendery’s jaw.

“He never deserved you.” Swallowing to hide the way that his voice attempted to crack Xiao continued, “ You are the sweetest, loveliest, gentliest, and purest person that I have ever met in my life. You care for everyone and everything no matter how small or significant they may seem. You loved Hendery with your whole heart, and he didn’t deserve to ever see that side of you.” Your sobbing had dissolved into meaningless sniffles, eyes still wet with tears as you listened to Xiao’s words.

“He’s the only person I’ve ever loved. I thought he was the one.”

“He wasn’t right for you. You’ll meet someone who is.” Xiao bit back the confession that he desperately wanted to say. He knew it wasn’t the right time. The two of you sat in a comfortable silence until the sounds of your stomach grumbling caused Xiao to sadly move you from his lap so that he could order the two of you food.

The silence remained even as the two of you ate, quietly munching as the ramen noodles brought a warmth back to you, hands shaking slightly from the after-cry headache that plagued you. Xiao grabbed your empty containers and bottles, throwing them away before appearing in your doorway again, wet clothes now wrapped in a bag.

“It’s pretty late. I’m going to go home.”

“You can stay. If you want.” The silence between the two of you was no longer comfortable.

“I’ll stay.”

If only you knew just how long he would.

-

“I’m so proud of you baby.” You whispered in his ear as he carried you back to the bedroom, adrenaline from WayV’s most recent win still coursing through his veins, if the way that he unlocked the front door and picked you up had anything to say about it.

“Owe it all to you. Always supporting me.” Both of you giggled as he hovered over you, hands on either side of your head while yours ran down his back, before tugging at the bottom of his sheer shirt, prompting him to take it off and throw it on the floor.

“Technically you started this two years ago by staying.” Xiao rolled his eyes before leaning down, placing a sweet kiss on your lips, barely giving you enough time to savor it before he was pulling away. Poking your lips out Xiao obliged, placing one, two, three more kisses before pulling away.

“I’m in love with you.” This wasn’t the first time he’s said it, but this confession made you burn from the inside out all the same. Heat rising up your neck all the way to your ears while butterflies pranced around in your stomach. Xiao’s eyes held the exact same emotion that they had two years ago when you asked him to stay that you now had a name for. It was pure adoration, and devotion. Love in simpler terms.

“I’m in love with you too.” Tangling your fingers into his hair you pulled him down into another kiss, a searing one deeper than the previous ones you had shared. His hand coming up and cupping your jaw caused you to pull away from the kiss, a bright smile on your face as you whispered two words that caused Xiao to kiss you until the both of you had to pull away for air in fear of suffocating. “Thank you.”

Sometimes, the right one get’s away to let a better one in. Thank you Hendery, you taught me how to love so I could love Xiao properly.

[monstaxardeur]

Warnings: Mature, Angst

The memory of it was so vivid in your head, everytime your mind would carelessly land upon it, the emotions would run through you like a fresh scar. It was strange how you still felt the hurt and pain even after the desired outcome. You remembered how you cried as the garlands that adorned your hair fell to the ground while you walked away stepping on them. Your soft hiccups and sobbing whimpers were mildly echoed through the wide coridors as footsteps followed behind. You were worried, scared beyond belief as to what outcome would follow. Why'd he have to be there at the wedding, and if he was there then why couldn't you be graced a few minutes with him. Your heart had ached and when your eyes searched for him in the crowd….he was nowhere to be found but he too had tried, broke his resolve and tried squeezing through the crowd to get there before your car left off. He was a little to late, the drizzle softly soaked his expensive suit blazer but the fire in his heart only grew bigger, he couldn't lose you a second time. You had slept through the chaos outside, fell asleep to the sounds of your family arguing with eachother. Siblings, mother, father and anyone else your family deemed worthy to consult. But by morning it all felt like a horrible nightmare, the immediate effects of the sorrow had worn off, the rain was too loud and the wedding celebrations never stopped, the wedding itself lasted more than a day or two in your part of town. It'd been awfully quiet, your sibling was the only one who approached you calmly, they had asked you to get ready for the evening event. You looked half dead, your soul was barren, you thought love was lost for good and you couldn't pretend to be okay anymore..everyone could see it now.

Somehow you had been left alone for a long time almost as if being punished. Through the busy looking gift studded room and messy designer dresses that scattered the floor you sat quietly staring at the henna in your palms. The 'what ifs' and 'i wish' questions clouded your mind when the verdict came at your doorstop through the form of your family. The words that were exchanged had left you speechless, you couldn't imagine what was happening, even in the agreement though your mother and father seemed so troubled. Yet still your mother draped the white veil that was part of your embroidered off white dress and caressed your forehead and your father placed his hand on your head, a sign of blessings and acceptance. A few of your close friends waited outside, as if to see you off, your sibling was right there by your side as your support and that was the last thing you vividly remembered on that day. Faces of loved ones, some of worry and sorrow and some of joy and hope, after all you had been married off to the man you had only ever loved the most. Your family broke the bounds of cultural norms, tradition and religion to give you away of your own free will to the person you loved because they couldn't stand to see the child they raised with so much love to turn into a husk of a human being. You were grateful now when you looked back. He had promised your family to keep you well, to give you comfort and protect you and most of all keep you happy. Kihyun was a man of conviction and he carried out all his promises or at least he tried his best to but perhaps time and situations were unkind to him.

When you had flown back home with him there was so much unease and restlessness everywhere, of course he had explaining to do to a lot of people, family, friends, his company, his bandmates. All of this in the midst of their biggest tour, how inconvenient indeed. Except he made sure none of the backlash of any of sorts affected you, that's why he let you stay at one of his close trusted friend's place until he found a small apartment for you two. Moving in as a couple should be fun milestone but here it was like a responsibility he was conducting. You didn't have the nerve initially but seeing all the silent distress around you, you had spoken up but not in ways Kihyun expected. You requested to be sent off to study while he was away, you did your part and looked into housing and travel facilities and had felt utterly embarassed asking your own husband for a little loan but Kihyun didn't question anything. And that's how it had been…between you two...

You were visiting back home as always, by home you meant the shared apartment, you had a job now while you studied but he was still away. You two barely got time to sit and talk things through most of the times were just spent figuring out eachothers lives and schedules and fitting into it. Love had been buried so deep down but now you were sure it was screaming to be let out, you could feel your hearts and souls aching to just hold on to eachother and never let go. That's why everytime you two hugged it felt a little more familiar, a little more like home, the only silent form of love you two shared, it bled out all the emotions otherwise unspoken. This time around Kihyun had a long break but because he hurt his rib, he was worried about how he'd explain it to you, but you knew of course, it was all over the news. So when he returned home that day with his new haircut and very much ready to relax he was greeted by your most comforting embrace. The silence shared in that moment was peaceful, your hands instinctively reached to trace his rib over the fabric and he felt the sensitivity and knit his brows, "It'll be okay." Your soothing voice calmed him and he realized how much he had missed you, he also realized your hand on his torso was the closest to intimacy you two shared in a long while. He didn't know why he held back from loving you.…

As usual though pleasantries were made, stories were shared, there was casual chatter and dinner and then the same old tension filled night follower by silences. But because he stayed longer than ever back home the spark ignited again, the one you two shared when you had first met, the one that was the driving force to the outcome before you two. It felt like life started to blossom in a barren land. He had promised you recently to celebrate this newfound love again in the form of a proper wedding, at the altar with close friends and family and a memory to last a lifetime, a memory to grow old with.

You were trying on the fittings of the dress and although it was said to not see the bride before the big day, Kihyun was still there when you turned around and asked how it looked. You had messily managed to put the hair adornments in a bun to give it a feel of how it would be. You my have gone on about what you liked and disliked about it but Kihyun was in awe, it was all white noise to him whatever you spoke and he was too distracted by you in general to realize you had asked him to help unzip and it only dawned on him when your bare skin peeked from under the white dress as he did so and he stopped midway. You called out to him and when you saw no response and turned around, you were met by a dark gaze, the one you had never seen before but understood perfectly. The silence was deafening and the seconds felt like hours, Kihyun couldn't stand it and he pulled you close in a firm embrace and pressed his lips to yours in the most mind numbing ways. It was such a contrast to his usual kisses that he graced you with. His mere grip felt like it would leave marks and his self control broke its chains one by one until he had you stripped of that lovely white dress and pinned on to the bed. His grunts and groans showed how primal he felt, how needy he was, how devastated he had been by your mere existence right now. He slowly pinned your hands over your head like a slow sweet poison setting in and his bruised lips had left the most sinful marks on your supple skin. He wrecked you rather beautifully when he fucked you into oblivion, his mouth spilled the sweetest words yet his actions were the opposite. He was nestled perfectly between your legs, with slow strokes he watched you squirm and then like with eager passion he made sure his name dripped from your lips and his pleasure from between your legs, and he moved faster and harder until you were spent. And then he was so tender to you afterwards it almost felt like sweet salvation to your worn out body.

He dreamt of your first kiss after a long time, he didnt know why though because now you were there next to him, he turned his face and found you asleep peacefully under the soft covers, little love marks adorned your neck and he realized this was real. The back of his hand reached to graze your cheeks softly and he smiled lazily mumbling 'Mrs. Yoo' before spooning you and his hand entwined into yours, two delicate platinum bands kissed eachother. He knew it would be okay now, he was glad he fought the world for you.~

[twenty-sixumbrellas]

A Heartbeat, Perfect, and Law and Order

Pairing: Older! Five x Female! Reader

Prompt: “could i request a five x reader where they’re like getting married like they’re both so giddy and smiley during and after and they’re just extra lmao if not that’s ok!” -lovely @campcampie

A/N: I’m timing at a meet rn and I’m having a gr8 time! Can we pretend Five never left? K thanks. Y’all are about 20ish? How old are people who get married? (Peep me playing Tamagotchi every time I get a writer’s block) Also I’ve never been married (lmao) so I guessed on most of this. :)

( @andyoudoctor ’s gif )

“I’m so excited!!” Allison says from her seat at the vanity. She picks up the curler, which you take from her.

“Why? It’s my wedding,” you sass, curling some of your hair. You chose Allison, Vanya, and Grace as your bridesmaids.

Vanya puts her hand on top of your shaking one. “You look amazing, and I bet Five wishes he could see you now.”

———Five’s POV———

“I want to see my wife,” I demand, trying to move around Luther’s massive monkey shoulders.

“You know the rules. Not before the wedding,” he sighs. He puts a hand on my shoulder, which I quickly shake off. It’s too bad my powers aren’t working. I imagine it’s because of the stress.

Luther moves for a moment and I book it. Where is she? Finally arriving at the door of the Bride’s room, I try and open the door. Locked.

“Go away Five,” says Allison nonchalantly from the other side.

“Five?” Her voice sounded heavenly.

I lean against the door and I hear her do the same. “I really want to see you. I can’t teleport though.”

“I really want to see you too. But you know we can’t. I will see you later, Mister.” She giggles and I sigh. I really want to see how beautiful she looks.

Klaus starts nervously pulling me away. “Until later?”

She sighs. “I’d wait until the end of the world for you.”

“Let’s go, Loverboy,” Diego says, pulling me.

———Your POV———

“I’m nervous!” You yell at Allison and Vanya. They finish applying the veil, and they both smile.

“Y/n,” Vanya starts, “you look wonderful.”

“Exactly. But... are you sure you want Klaus to walk you down?” Allison raises an eyebrow.

“I would like no one else to.”

———Five’s POV———

I wait, nervously twitching my thumbs, for her arrival. The music starts a sweet melody, and my heart beats out of my chest. Where is she?

Just then, Klaus emerges, looking extremely happy, with a veiled y/n at his side. I can’t see what she looks like, but I’m already so awestruck from how she looks.

She walks up and Klaus moves to his place on my side. I reach up and feel the soft material move through my fingers, lifting it slowly, I gasp. I’m breathless. Her hair is put up neatly but eloquently, and frames her face perfectly. Her eyes. Oh my god, her eyes. Their color shows vibrantly, and are filled with love and happiness.

I realize I’m tearing up and look down, still smiling like an idiot.

I can’t believe I’m marrying a goddess.

The boring speech starts, and I zone through it. My vows are up.

“With this hand I will lift your sorrows. Your cup will never be empty, for I will be your wine. With this candle, I will light your way into darkness. With this ring, I ask you to be mine.” I nearly faint from my nerves, but she smiles sweetly anyway. She could always see through me.

“Five, my dear, I love you because you were completely ready to do that vow.” Laughs emerge from the pews. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Every moment, whether drinking coffee at three am, or tipping canoes, I’m happy as long as you, my true love, are there. I want to be your always.” She slips my ring on and smiles at me teary-eyed. I smile back, in the same state.

“You may now kiss the bride.”

We meet in the middle for a sweet, passionate kiss that recieves a few wolf-whistles. We separate with me chuckling, and y/n looks like she wants to hit me. “I missed you too~” I sing.

“Stop it.”

———Your POV (are y’all dizzy yet? XD)———

The wedding reception is small, but feels like home. Your Grandma comes, and you laugh when she gives Five a good death-grip hug.

“Grandma, don’t kill him,” you say, laughing. “We haven’t gotten to the dance yet!”

Five just rolls his eyes, and pulls you to the floor. You & I (Nobody In the World) by John Legend plays, and you start moving in sync with the beat. You speed up with him when the music pics up.

Spinning you around him as the music slows, Five smiles down at you, and leans in for a tender kiss. To be interrupted by Klaus.

He shouts, “All right, everyone take your seats, I want to be the first toast!” You look at eachother, very much scared of his next words. You sit down at the main table, and pray that he doesn’t say something to make Five’s family hate you.

“I’ve known Five for a long time. My entire life. And he’s a real asshole.” There’s a few gasps from the croud, and you grow more nervous. “But in all of that time, I’ve never seen him love someone as much as he loves y/n.” The whole room ‘awes’ and you go red. “But here’s a story about y/n-” you cut him off.

Taking the mic form him, you say, “Alright that’s enough. Who’s next?”

“Me, please,” says Vanya. “Now usually,” She begins once handed a mic, “I don’t do these kinds of things, but y/n and Five are my best friends, so you know I have to.” Good-hearted chuckles come from the family. “I remember when Five and y/n first met. It was awful.

“They used to sneak everywhere, which was easy because she lived next door.” You laugh at this. “They fell in love, and were both stupid enough not to see it. Everyone else did. I will never be able to thank either of you enough for causing each of my best friends’ happiness.”

You mouthe, ‘thank you’ to her and she winks.

You stand up and shout, “Cake!” Five’s shoulders shake at his silent laughter. “Shut up.” You grab a handful and shove it in his face. Everyone ‘ooo’s’. He looks at you open-mouthed, but then devilishly smirks. Grabbing a handful of his own, he hits you square in the face.

“You’ve got something.... there.” You laugh, and it’s heaven to his ears.

The two of you kiss once more, covered in, very expensive, mind you, cake. Klaus cheers and takes a massive bite of his slice.

———Five’s POV (last switch I promise)———

We get home, finally and share a sigh. She sprints to our room, and I follow. She speed changes into one of my old shirts and faded pajama pants.

I just put on sweats and a David Bowie shirt.

We sit on the couch together, very close, and I rub her ring finger delicately. She hums, and I drift off to her heartbeat, Perfect, and Law and Order.

[thirstytrashblogger]

Prompt: your Hux’s bodyguard/ girlfriend Hux is injured and sick so you want to help him get better. I just want this boy to be loved.

Warnings: sick Hux, blood, migraines, little sexual but really not, a little ooc

He walked in shivering and breathing through his mouth. The cold weather of the planet had gotten him sick and the battle left him busted and blue. Hux looked around the room and didn’t see you. The sound of the faucet turning on caught his attention.

‘She must be in the bath.’ he concluded. Armitage didn’t even want to take off his coat. The bitter coldness he felt even in the warm room made his feel like he was on Hoth. Removing his hat, he moved to sit on the bed but suddenly felt dizzy. He was bleeding slightly through his left temple. A large black eye present and his body covered in small scrapes and large bruises. Before making it to the bed, Hux fell unconscious.

“Love, is that you?” you asked from the shower. No response.

“Armi?” no response.

You emerged from the shower quickly and put on a robe. Walking out to the main bedroom where you saw your beloved Hux passed out on the floor. The poor dear must be exhausted. You picked him up and carried his limp body to the bed and laid him down properly. He was bruised and paler than usual. You placed a hand to his forehead and of course he had a fever.

You removed his coat and boots. The dried blood on the side of his face made your heart sad. His orange hair sticking to his sweaty forehead. The poor dear looked awful. He began to stir awake after you moved the hair out of his face.

“(y/n). How’d I get in bed?”

“I got you here, love. Come on now. I’ll draw you a warm bath. Let’s get you undressed. I’ll call for the med bay to send up something for those cuts and the fever.”

“I’m fine. Really I am l just need some rest is all.”

“You do need rest but I think a warm bath would do you good and some soup too.”

“I’m not really hungry. My head is killing me.”

“You poor dove. I’ll call for some pain medicine too. Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.” You walked into the bathroom and ran the faucet once again. The bath was filling up when Hux came in and began disrobing. He removed His shirt and you saw the full extent of his bruises. His pale slender body was so injured and sick looking. He looked like a watercolor painting. You walked over and hugged him. His upper half exposed, nuzzled into his neck you glimpsed at all the pretty freckles on his back. He gave a weak hug back before pulling away to sneeze.

After completely disrobing he walked over and stepped into the warm tub. You messaged his sore muscles and scrubbed his thin, frail body free of the blood, sweat and grease on him, careful to not put too much pressure on his bruises. He hummed in response from the gentle touch. He noticed your delicate body was only covered by your robe and blushed. Only you couldn’t tell because his fever already made his cheeks rosy. You scrubbed some sweet smelling shampoo into his soft ginger hair and rinsed it out gently.

The poor dear was so tired he almost fell asleep from your soft touches. How silly it seems. The General of the first order falling apart from your touch. He couldn’t help it. You were the only person who had ever laid a hand on him without being harmful.

After his bath you saw that the droid with medicine, soup, and bandages had arrived. While Armitage dressed into his pajamas you heated some of the soup. He emerged from the bathroom, still feeling dizzy and sat on the bed. Letting out another three sneezes before blowing his nose into a tissue. You returned to the bed with the bandages and medicine. He took the medication gratefully and allows you to put a soothing cream on his bruises before putting small bandages on his red cuts.

“you really don’t have to do this you know.” He sounded so weak. It was so unlike him.

“I like taking care of you. It reminds me you’re human.”

Hux smiled at that.

“Why would you need a reminder for that?”

“You work yourself like a machine. I like when you calm down and take care of yourself.”

“I’d say you’re the one taking care of me at the moment. Besides, my duties come first.”

“haha. You say that but look at how unhealthy you’ve gotten from neglecting yourself.”

Hux looked at his trembling hands and realized he really was exhausted and sick.

“I guess it’s good I have a personal bodyguard to keep me safe.”

“It’s not my job as your bodyguard to help you when you’re sick.” She kissed him on the cheek.

“It’s my job as your partner. In sickness and in health.” He smiled again.

“Those sound like wedding vows to me.”

“Only if they apply both ways.”

“In sickness and in health, We’d both love and care for eachother.” He spoke very softly.

“Get some sleep,love. You’ll feel better in the morning.” She kissed his burning forehead. His pretty blue-green eyes closed.

“I would like for us to be married someday? You know.” he spoke without opening his eyes. It made your heart flutter. You never really knew about marriage but you loved Armitage with everything and you knew he loved you. He never knew he could have someone in his life to make him so happy and he would be never dreamt of being capable of making you feel the same toward him.

“I’d love that, Armie. But you’ll have to ask me properly” She held his hand.

“I love you, (y/n). You’re the greatest creation in the galaxy. You’re made of stardust.” the medicine must have been kicking in. It’s rare He ever gets this emotional and cheesy unless he’s blackout drunk or sick.

“I love you too.” you answered quietly before climbing into bed next to him and spooning his larger frame. He cuddled back into you in delight. Who cares if you get sick. At least you know you’ll have someone to take care of you.

Tag list: @aquananner24 @songforhema

[nathanfoadstanaccount]

The Advent of Johnlock

So, I saw someone refer to Jefferson Hope and Faith Smith in the same post and some ideas kinda clicked into place for me, about why it was always going to be the fifth series in which we get canon Johnlock. This is my first meta, I’m not sure on structuring it, but I think this is the most logical way. So here we go!

Content warning: I’m going to analyse religious metaphor in this meta. If you’re very strongly Christian, some of the things I say you may find offensive. I mean no offence to anyone’s religion and respect all views - I am merely describing metaphor as I see it.

As someone brought up in Church of England, for me every Christmas came with the anticipation built by the four week long season of Advent. Advent is a time of preparation for the day of celebration, to think back on out past selves and improve, to prepare our hearts for Jesus.

Now bear with me, because this going to seem a little crazy until I unpack it. But my point here is that the first 4 series’ of Sherlock are the 4 weeks of Advent. Series 5 will be Christmas.

“Advent is a season of expectation and preparation, as the Church prepares to celebrate the coming (adventus) of Christ in his incarnation”

https://www.churchofengland.org/prayer-and-worship/worship-texts-and-resources/common-worship/churchs-year/times-and-seasons/advent

We already see religious metaphor in Sherlock - “Lazarus is go” is an example that springs to mind, and there’s the whole rising from the death situation. I could write loads about candles and light/dark symbolism too, but that’s a little much for now… We’re going to focus on the traditions of the Advent Wreath and the Four Last Things as our points of reference here. I’ve used a couple of sources, but there is a lot of different interpretations of the meanings of the 4 weeks of Advent and I’m basing this meta on the ones I grew up with, which doesn’t ally with all sources.

Just in case people aren’t familiar: an Advent Wreath is a set of 5 candles, one lit in each week of advent and the last on Christmas day, each symbolising a Christian value. As I mentioned before the order changes across the religion, but in the Church of England I grew up with Hope (Christ’s coming predicted by the prophets, our ancestors), Peace (the angels), Joy (the shepherds), Faith (the wise men), and Love (Jesus). The Four Last Things are themes for meditation during the season: Death, Judgement, Heaven and Hell.

Series 1, the first week of Advent: Hope, the Prophets, and the theme of death. 

Immediately, Jeff Hope. Obvious! 

But also, the themes of the series; John is hopeless, thinking about death. Sherlock gives him hope. 

Of course, death is a constant theme through the show, but in particular this series, where they choose to die together with a glance. 

And haven’t people seen Johnlock in ACD canon for decades? Centuries? Our forefathers of fandom saw this coming, and had hope for canon Johnlock. The first Sherlockians are our prophets and ancestors.

Series 2, the second week of Advent: Peace, the angels, and the theme of judgement.

Here, judgement is the obvious one. The Reichenbach fall is full of not only a literal trial where Moriarty is judged, but focusses on the media and public opinion’s judgement of Sherlock and John as people. Is Sherlock a good person? We as an audience are instructed to question him, by Moriarty, who sits in a throne of judgement. Literally.

Peace is more tricky. At a surface glance of the show, where does peace come into it? But when we look at inner peace maybe; this series is in some ways the most domestic between John and Sherlock - they fight, yes, but look at the small scraps they have compared to the wars they fight in series 4. They find peace in eachother’s company.

Peace is also what the struggle is all for; look at Sherlock, sacrificing himself, his life, his work, for his friends. But the failure to grasp that peace is an unreachable concept - heavenly, impossible on earth - is no doubt his downfall… literally. His sacrificing himself does not give his friends the peace he desires for them. The only peace found in the series is during their domestic moments in Baker Street, AKA when they actually communicate.

Angels of course link to Sherlock’s death, he may be on the side of them but he’s not one of them. He’s mortal. He must be, to die and rise again. And again and again, in different interpretations of ACD canon. Sherlock is mortal but can’t stay dead. He has unfinished business in his stories. The end isn’t right yet. And cupid, the eros statue at the start of ASIP, shows us right from the start what the angels mean - Sherlock’s unfinished business is announcing his feelings for John.

There’s another thing and it’s probably a bit of a stretch. I’ve always wondered why the scene in THOB where Sherlock apologises to John takes place in a graveyard, distinctly an English country church graveyard. Weird choice, right? Maybe we’re going for religious metaphor? And then we get John as a conductor of light. Now, Sherlock is Jesus, he rises from the dead, and believes in a higher power - himself. John is an angel then, who magnifies the Lord? John is the disciples, who follow Jesus with steadfast faith and trust, wonderment and awe, who follow his commands without question… usually. John is the name of one of the disciples, one of the fishermen who became a ‘fisher of men’, someone who recruited more followers of Jesus. What did John’s blog do if it didn’t recruit believers in Sherlock, especially after he fell, with the Empty Hearse society and people such as that? Maybe that is reading too much into it, but enjoy how smug Sherlock would be at being compared to literally God.

Series 3, the third week of Advent: Joy, the shepherds, heaven.

Weird to associate joy with this series of pain from the perspective of Johnlockers, who have suffered so much at the hands of this series, but hear me out!

Sherlock comes back from the dead and is no longer aiming for peace for his friends. He is much more focussed now, and, in fact, realistic, although still off the mark somewhat. He is determined to give John a life of joy, with the woman he chose to marry. He creates all kinds of chaos (shooting Magnussen a notable example) to secure John’s happiness. 

Shepherds guide and protect sheep, an animal with inferior intellect but that they care for nonetheless - you see where I’m going with this. Sherlock tries to shepherd John’s life into order, but then, as in the Christmas story, angels - Sherlock’s call to tell John how he feels, or face endless death and resurrection - in the form of his exile go to take him away. Up to the sky in a plane - heaven - oops, not quite. Back to Earth again. Sherlock can’t get into heaven until he does what he was brought back to life in this reincarnation/adaption to do: confess to John.

The Bible tells us that a wedding banquet is a foretaste of heaven, and here at John’s wedding banquet he gets an admission of fondness, and almost confession of love, the closest Sherlock has yet got - “a foretaste of the heavenly banquet".

No Sherlock, you definitely haven’t finished yet.

We get told as Sherlock’s plane comes in to land that “there’s an East Wind coming” - SherlockJesus is coming to pluck the unworthy from the Earth. We get that you like Sherlock, Mofftiss, but did you have to make him so transparently GOD??

Series 4, the fourth week of Advent: Faith, the wise men, and hell.

I make no secret of the fact that I’m less familiar with the fourth series, so if anyone would like to add any points here (or anywhere else to be honest) I’d love to hear more analysis.

Faith, again, a transparent one, Faith Smith.

The wise men are famously from the east - the east wind has arrived, with gifts fit for a king: an elaborate game for Sherlock to solve. But also causing accidental death - the wise men told Herod about Jesus, causing him to slay all the male babies in the kingdom, and Mary’s death happened because Sherlock returned, and why did he return? Eurus/Moriarty’s plans, the east wind, the wise men.

There are traditionally three wise men - three parts to the east wind. Eurus, Moriarty, and… Mary? That’s speculation. This needs more thinking about.

Of course, hell - we’ve all been in Johnlock hell for years now, but that’s not really relevant to this series. What IS relevant is that SHERLOCK is now in Johnlock hell - he’s putting himself through it, perhaps, but watch as he is punished for not confessing to John and John is hurt by Sherlock’s actions because of his aborted attempts to confess.

TFP shows Eurus’ games, which put Sherlock through the nightmares of those he loves being hurt. A private hell, built just for him. Or perhaps a purgatory, which after he suffers through it brings him close to heaven/Johnlock.

And Series 5, Christmas Day: Love, and Jesus.

Here we will have Christmas, with a present for everyone that we’ve longed for for generations: Johnlock becomes canon! The theme of love, of course, will be heavily present, and Jesus/Sherlock will at last be free of his earthly purpose - to come down, free us from the binds of Johnlock hell and ascend to a peaceful resting place, where his disciples/John will join him in the wedding banquet of heaven.

Well that’s that, my first attempt at meta! Once I wrote it out it got longer than I was really expecting, but I hope you all got something from it, and let me know if you also see an religious/advent metaphor in the show :)

[daveywankenobie]

History seemed to be repeating itself yesterday – and (for those readers with a long memory) I found myself once again really rather ill when I should have simply been enjoying the Slimming World ball.

Last year after the ball I ended up with vestibular labyrinthitis (link) and to say it was a terrible experience was a vast understatement because frankly when it hit with debilitating ferocity on the way home I have never been so scared.

When Saturday morning rolled around this year I was already at the tail end of a week where I’d barely left the house thanks to the onset of an awful head cold/flu which had slowly migrated to my chest.

I was also sure I’d put weight on rather than lose it – mostly because I’d barely moved and had been eating way too much in a fruitless attempt to cheer myself up. By Friday evening I felt like absolute crap and wasn’t feeling even mildly sociable.

Consequently my tuxedo trousers felt uncomfortably tight, meaning that my ever patient partner had to mollycoddle me as I moped about with an (even greater than usual) mess of paranoia and self deprecating thoughts.

People often say I’m way too hard on myself (they admittedly have a point most of the time) but despite deep down knowing this is true I can never stop the onset of impostor syndrome when I know people are likely to compliment me or call me inspiring.

I just don’t feel like I measure up to mine or Slimming World’s ideals lately (did I ever?) and rather than going out on ‘a low’ I’d wanted the whole event to feel like a triumph where I felt both comfortable and in target (which I’m not).

After practically no sleep on Friday night (as I tried to breathe through the phlegm on my chest and ignore the swollen feeling in my throbbing sinuses) I had given up trying to nod off and instead migrated downstairs to sit upright in my armchair. Time moves slowly in the dark when you can’t sleep and you know you have a long day ahead.

You think too much, and you rarely think positive thoughts.

My head hurt.

My eyes ached.

I felt fat.

The clock was still ticking though the time to leave the house was slowly approaching. My partner (aware that I was ill and stressed) was now sipping a cup of tea on the sofa nearby looking at me with concern.

I weakly smiled, passed her as her hand grazed mine and moved to the bathroom to trim my hair and beard.

It was at this point (half way through turning and trimming the left hand side of my head) that I noticed at least part of the reason why a painful sensation behind my eye had suddenly subsided when I had sneezed moments before.

It looks worse than it is – but it looks absolutely horrible.

Of all the days when I needed to feel confident about my appearance (where photos and selfies would be taken left right and centre) I suddenly felt that I looked my absolute worst.

My eye was filled with blood and my (usually dormant) eczema felt like it was in full swing.

I’m not going to lie. Standing in the bathroom, feeling ill with a half shaved head and looking like I was an extra from The Walking Dead the very last thing I wanted to do was be sociable.

I actually just wanted to cry.

Would I call someone and make my excuses?

I really really wanted to, and talked it through as my partner peered with concern into my eye.

However, much of the last few weeks has in some way or another been about both of us working toward a gradual ‘ball readiness‘ – so to just discard all of our preparation for the evening seemed like a major anti climax.

It had been an extremely enjoyable time doing this together (despite our often shaky self images) and one where we’ve demonstrated yet again how well we work together.When one is struggling the other effortlessly seems to notice and pick up the slack.

When we’ve been in and out and town we’ve been collaborating to find little bits and pieces for eachther that match our outfits and complement our personal styles. Often we spot things that the other one hasn’t – or even suggest a way around a problem that the other hadn’t considered.

Up until I fell ill this meant that (for the most part) it’s worked out really well – like this lucky spot of a delightful (and cheap!) sparkly necklace!

We’ve both relished the task of finding things like this in charity shops and reducing costs wherever possible. Some things we haven’t been able to find very easily though – and when we’ve met brick walls we purchased brand new things to fill gaps.

In most cases we’ve been lucky enough to find pre-loved bits and pieces but getting ball ready still hasn’t been what either of us would call cheap.

It had still been a blast though and I’d been hoping we’d enjoy the night purely because of the joint effort that we’d put in and how much pleasure it had brought us. Then the flu unceremoniously stepped in and when we set out for the Hyatt hotel in Birmingham (mercifully she agreed to be taxi driver for the occasion) on a rainy grey Saturday spirits were slightly deflated.

This is one of those instances however where we lift eachother up.

We ended up talked and laughed along the route into town, nattered about silly things and generally tried to look on the brighter side of life.

Soon after setting out (it was a relatively uneventful drive with no traffic) we had arrived, checked in and done our best to look smart (but casual) for a photo and cuddle with Alan Carr.

This particular part of the day was mercifully brief.

My interaction with people (despite my tiredness and somewhat downbeat mood) was actually rather painless.

For some unknown reason I finally moved from being largely monosyllabic to verbal diarrhoea when I entered the photo booth (no selfies allowed sadly) putting my arm around Margaret & simultaneously pointing out to Alan Carr (nestling in my other arm) that he had embarrassed himself by wearing the same blue felt jacket and denim combo as me.

He took it well but I’m sure his confidence was crushed – because despite my walking dead-esque eyeball horrors I think I edged ahead with my tie.

Alan went with open neck and casual.

#nailedit

The truth will be in the official photos, which I’ll hopefully get a copy of in a week or so – and then we’ll see how wasted or surprisingly alive I look.

After this we headed back to the hotel, got changed into some slightly more casual attire and headed to Wetherspoons nearby for a spot of lunch. Shortly after this (both dog tired) we plodded back to the hotel room and within moments could be found snoring away on the bed with the drapes closed and the lights off.

Thank goodness for blackout curtains and quiet daytime guests is all I can say.

After a fitfull snooze (which was no-where near long enough to make up for the awful kip I’d had two nights in a row) we hopped out of bed, had a shower and started to apply our respective war paint and clothes for the evening event.

I think it’s fair to say that anyone would be proud to stand next to my better half.

I know I certainly was – and as we made our way across the skybridge from the hotel to Hall 3 of the ICC a lady (who I realised later the top target consultant winner Kathryn Cooke with her husband) asked us to take their photo – and in return she took one of us.

The event was massive – and compared to last year an extra 1/5th bigger than 2018. As Margaret began her speech she told the room that there were another 500 guests in a third hall watching the event on a huge video monitor.

In my case I was literally right at the front of the stage.

When the winning contestants (in this case the finalists for the 2019 woman of the year) were introduced by Margaret and led out to speak to Alan Carr there was absolutely nothing in the way to spoil my view!

The whole event seemed to pass by much quicker than last year (Alan Carr was very funny indeed) and before long there on stage was my replacement.

Ben Muscroft – the 2019 Man of the Year.

For those of you that remember the event in November 2018, my consultant Angie announced on stage after I received my award that I was ‘single and ready to mingle’.

It provoked a well meaning storm of hugs and later kisses that night (I even got a hug from Rylan!) and although being majorly embarrassing at the time (I never know how to accept compliments) was in its own way a big turning point – marking a shift in my emphasis from weight loss to the search for someone with which to share my life.

Unknown to me I’d already met that person and she was quietly reading my blog whilst making her own gradual decisions about whether she liked me. Consequently events directly related to that evening brought us together and because of that the 2018 ball is very significant to me.

You can imagine therefore how I felt then when Ben (someone who I’ve periodically been in contact with since the event in July) announced on stage that he had become engaged to his partner, having also found love and happiness with a fellow member of his local Slimming World group.

Alan called her up onto stage, and in a wonderfully life affirming moment they stood together looking as happy as it’s possible to be on a stage in front of 2500 screaming consultants and guests.

As you might imagine with so many inspiring stories there were many moments during the evening that put a lump in my throat, but this was one of the two that meant the most.

I went over afterwards to tell them both how great they looked and how much happiness I wished them both.

‘To me it’s personal.’ I said.

‘I never thought that this was the way that my life would go. I thought it would end – and now I’m in love because of all of this – so I wish you all the best. Enjoy it because you deserve it.’

If they invite me to the wedding then I’m going.

The second poingnant moment came before the couple of the year 2019 were announced. I already knew what was coming because Angie had let me know some weeks before. The ABSOLUTELY LOVELY 2018 couple we’d met backstage at last year’s awards had suffered a tragedy.

Glyn was on my table, but his wife Gillian was not – having died a month prior from a sudden and unexpected illness.

He was there (I found out later whilst talking to him and holding his hand because I wasn’t sure how else to convey how I felt) that in the middle of the numerous and unexplained ‘events’ (I will not go into detail) she had suffered before she died she had told him that she wanted him to be happy, to live the life they’d both fought so hard for, to not be lonely and to go to the ball without her.

I honestly don’t know how to process how hard that must have been for Glyn, but there he was, smiling and getting on with things when deep down, with every hug and well wisher that came over to talk to him he must have felt like he was being pulled apart.

I had and still have a lot of respect for him. They deserved better – but I’m glad he and his wife got to win the award and have some really happy times before she passed away.

In happier news I also got to speak to the 2019 winners (Katie and Tony Viney) and pass on my congratulations – despite Tony completely upstaging me in the most wonderful tuxedo jacket (and golden irregular choice shoes) I’d seen during the entire evening!

Once all of the awards had finished and the massive tickertape parade after the 2019 Woman of the Year had exploded onto the stage we all headed up for one final moment facing the audience.

Once that was gone, I and all the others stepped off and breathed a sigh of relief. That was it for me. No more events. The MOTY 2018 experience was at an end – and what an experience it had been. Now it was time to enjoy the evening – and enjoy we did, because the rather delicious food arrived soon after!

By this time (around 8.30pm in a room full of people who love food) I think it’s fair to say that we were all hungry – and the masses quickly set about the business of eating and drinking. All around me those who had noticed a serious over abundance of blood in their alcohol streams developing began to set about returning Prosecco and Rosé wine to required levels.

In other news its nearly four years now since I touched a drop of booze – and despite what many may think I don’t miss it one bit!

Once all was done the live music started – which turned out to be Scouting for Girls – a band who I’m familiar with but don’t really know any of their songs.

My partner on the other hand sang along throughout and was absolutely in her element!

They were on stage for around an hour and did a quite varied set – although nothing that I felt I could bop along to.

I’ve always struggled with live music as an accompaniment to movement – but I can’t help myself when the DJ drops the right track at just the right moment on an old school set of decks.

The honest truth was that I never thought that I was the kind that could dance without some form of enhancement – but the fact of the matter is that it was just another thing I was scared of doing.

Now I don’t care what people think of me.

When the beats dropped (Uptown Funk by Mark Ronson was the rallying cry) I certainly stepped up – and with all said and done I must have been on the dancefloor (despite being filled with sudafed, ibuprofen and sucking strepsils) for around two hours.

In between this I also ended up having absolutely shedloads of selfies taken and people asking me for hugs – which was really really lovely!

Quite unexpectedly I bumped into a fellow blogger’s consultant – Amanda Bartlett Hill from Slimming World in Essex (Instagram link) after being asked to keep an eye out for her and grabbed hold of her to prove to my friend that we’d met and send her a pic!

So – here it is! Proof – and a reminder of the promises made that evening 😉

Not all of the selfies were quite so flattering however – but none were more amusing than this one which I had to include just because…

Although the last dance was something I’d planned to have with my partner, when it came down to it we were so tired that we left before the song came on, walking back slowly and somewhat gingerly with ringing ears from the noise feeling more than a little elderly, but very very happy.

I said it to her that day and I meant it.

My partner was not only the main reason I ended up attended the ball (I don’t think I’d have made my own way on the train in the rain feeling as crappy as I did) but she was also the punctuation mark at the ‘end’ (nothing ever really ends) of this particular part of my journey.

I’ve gone from a shut in recluse, drinking and eating my life away in an 8XL hoodie to dancing the night away with the focus of my world felling blissfully happy and complete even though I felt (and still feel) really ill.

We helped each other get ball ready – but ever since I met her she’s made me life ready.

Davey

Slimming World Ball 2019 History seemed to be repeating itself yesterday - and (for those readers with a long memory) I found myself once again…