#my ex partner's mum once took me and him to get a suit for something and the tailor kept referring us as brothers which was wild

[redrocketpanda]

This scene with Cid at Cape Caem absolutely cracks me up bc it is something I have experienced countless times as a queer person where someone mistakes my partner(s) for my brother/sister/cousin/best friend/housemate

It's a real "omg Cid is gonna say something, oop no there he goes on his brothers tirade. okay, thanks Grandad", shuffles awkwardly and exchanges looks kind of moment

[regretsofalifeandlovelost]

The real gang bang

Over the next few weeks I find myself going to the sex swing several times per week. I find myself drawn to the being taken advantage of. At the time when this was happening in my life I felt that it suited where my mental state had become entrenched, It had just clocked over a year since I split with my partner, I was still living with my Sister and her Husband. I couldn't afford to live in my own place and be a commutable distance from the kids school and friends. My partner and I had agreed that the split would be permanent but we were still catching up a few times a month to fuck.

I found myself masturbating and thinking about my Sisters husband except when I was being tied up and fucked senseless. There's no love, it's just a primeval lust, the need to reproduce, to be filled with cock that brings me back. It makes me feel needed in a world that I feel alone and filled with lust.

I get home late, it's around 11 and my Sister and her Husband are still up. They ask me to join them on the lounge and I do, apprehensively, I wonder if this is the "talk" where they ask me to find my own place, or they say that I am being too much of a burden.. I am filled with dread. Instead they tell me that they are going to have a big party at their place and it's not going to be kid safe. I need to make sure that my ex-partner has the kids for this weekend, they said that I should attend.

They go on to explain that before I lived there they used to have a once a year nudity/nudist gang bang party where everyone would be naked and it was basically a great big free for all fuck fest. Going on they said that everyone else except me and one other female are partnered up, but it would be a fun day/night. I agreed that the kids wouldn't be suitable and then said that i would make sure they were not there. I then went to ask why they wanted me there, they went on to tell me that I had looked down and out lately, constantly sad and it was a bad juju in the house. They went on to tell me that even the kids had asked them "What's wrong with Mum"... This tore at my heart and when they asked what is actually wrong and why had I become so insular and withdrawn..

I burst out in tears and told them that I feel so alone, so so so very alone. I had slid into a world where I had been regularly tied up and fucked. They looked on with concern and listened. After an hour my sister said that she would need to get some drinks, her Husband said that he needed to work early and said his good nights. We drank and talked until the sun was up and the kids alarm was going off.

After the morning routine we decided to get a few hours sleep then to invite the guy over here for my sister to see him. He arrived at 1 so we had around 2 hours before the kids would start to get home. We slid into the Jacuzzi and talked before to my shock my sister took him out to the sofa, coming down to straddle him while he sat, it was about a minute and a half before she was getting off and milking his cock all over his chest. He said how "whatever you did with your pussy is next level amazing".. I asked him what she had done, he said she was squeezing his cock's head somehow as she was grinding her pelvis into his.. my sister told me she was pressing the cock of his head against her cervix, she went on to tell me that it's something you can only achieve when they have a really long cock and laughed. She asked me to try, She guided and helped me and then we found the splot, as I moved my hips his cock was felt almost pressing into the front near the cervix and again I could feel him build up and then I got off and milked his cock.. Witihin 10 minutes he had cum twice. My sister then told him to "fuck off"... I was taken back by that, its not the language she would usually use but it was pretty cool to see her being more assertive.

She then wiped up all the cum over the sofa and put the covers in the wash before getting dressed. She then said she had an idea, when the kids got home we would go out to a place she called "the panel"... It was my surprise.. The kids got home and we got them fed, helped with the home work and then let them watch TV while we got dressed up to look our "hottest".. We then waited anxiously for her Husband to get home, as soon as he was in we flew out the door. She drove across the city to an odd place, it looked like a brothel but it had a sign saying "The Panel" which seemed like an odd name for an establishment of that type. As we walked in it was more like a bar, a very small bar and we had to pay to enter and it had a strange vibe. We both sat on the bar and had a drink before someone came up with our number and said it's time.

We followed the host out through a small door and were told to get ready. I had no idea what was going on and followed my sisters cue. It was then she said that this was a sex club with a difference. It was a brothel where we were the girls about to be bid on. As I came up onto the stage I was nervous, as the lights came on I couldn't see but the guys started to cheer. I was asked to introduce myself and I stupidly used my real name, the questions came thick and fast..

What type of pussy do I have..

What position do I love it

What's the most kinky thing I've done

Eventually someone offered a thousand dollars for my company and I left the stage. I was sitting next to the guy when my sister came up and went through similar, then she was offered the same amount of money, as she was about to leave the stage someone offered more and then it went crazy. I looked across and saw that it was my ex-partner who was bidding, I didn't recognise the voice, maybe it was someone who just looked similar because the voice was that far different. I went back to the guy who bid for me, he just wanted to talk and get naked, so we went to the private room and got naked and chatted, he was 70 and lonely, he told me so many nice things about my body and really made me feel good about myself. I was in a state of happiness when he said it was time for him to leave because his ride was going.. He offered me his phone number and said if you just want to chat call... I agreed and said I would, not sure why but he felt comforting.

I put my clothes back on and slowly made my way back to the main room. It was now about 2am and my sister was waiting for me. She was so happy when she saw me and said tonight was all creeps. As we got back to her car she said that my ex-partner was her winning bid.. she said she didn't fuck him but he wanted to masturbate and cum on my face, she said no so he just masturbated while he talked about himself. I said that sounds familiar, I said he must have only got through one or two sentences with his premature ejaculation.. she laughed and said she didn't know how I could have ever been with him, everything about him his repulsive. I had to agree, but my mental state wasn't in the right place. I told her nervously that I was still meeting up to fuck him every now and then, she said she would prefer a dildo.. we laughed.

When I got home I checked my messages, I saw a message from my ex-partner saying that my sister's a dirty slut and that we are made for each other.

A few weeks later was the event weekend and the kids were away. A few guests arrived on Friday for the Saturday event, out of town people who I had met in passing before but only now got to know. When Saturday came I was initially very nervous to be completely nude so I started with a nice Peter Alexander silk feeling top, opting to leave the buttons undone so that I wasn't completely nude or dressed. After about an hour it was left off...

It was nice to just walk around naked, the air was warm, the sun bright and the bodies all different. I caught myself fixating on various people's bodies, all of the guys nicely circumcised, almost everyone hair free and looking beautiful. By mid afternoon people had started to look towards the gang bang aspect of the event and people had found themselves a place where the lounge and TV would usually reside. As people started to make out and play around the various groups of people filtered inside, I was surprised when a girl put her arm around my shoulder and then came in to kiss, it was so sensual and hot, i reciprocated and we started to make out, her hands so elegantly caressing my body, her touch so tender and amazing. Then someone else came in from behind, kissing up and down my neck, down my spine to the top of my bum, down my legs, it was so sensual I was having trouble standing without getting the giddy feeling. This is when my phone started to ring, and ring and ring, whoever it was wouldn't stop calling, I was hoping that the battery would go flat and it stopped ringing.

I didn't know who was kissing me from behind, but it was so arousing, the girl making out with me was phenomenal and the whole touch and body connectedness was taking my arousal to the next level. With one hand I was now caressing her breast, the other was stroking up the inside of the guy kissing my neck's leg. The two of them holding me up, their bodies pressed against mine, the intensity and warmth glowing between us. I was interrupted by my partners sister busting in worried that something had gone wrong.. after a momentary lapse in everyone's concentration they continued while I had to go and tell her to leave or get in on it.. She was drunk and decided to get in on it.. I didn't pay much attention to what she was doing, returning quickly to where I was.. The guy was Wayne and it was his wife Bridgette who I was with and their experience and tenderness was off-the-charts. They ushered me to join them on the Matt where Bridgette was keen to lick my pussy, Wayne was going to go with the flow, As I put my leg's up for Bridgette's head Wayne initially started by massaging her back and occasionally sliding his fingers into her pussy, I wondered what it would be like as I lay theere enjoying her expert lips and finger movements.. I asked her to go 69 and she quickly obliged. Seeing her pussy come down above my head was almost climax inducing, I said how hot her pussy was and she said it was the same as mine, a beautiful innie with just the smallest reveal.. I felt hotter than I had felt in a long time, if my pussy looked that good I was happy. As my tongue found her clit, her taste was magic, it was almost as though she had flavored it. Her clit was quick to pop out in all its glory.. It was so hot, her juices flowing and then her orgasm, I was wondering what was delaying mine as her pussy quivered above my eyes, her juices dripping onto my chin. It was then that I realised that her head was against my leg, I asked her if she was okay and she said yeshhheehe.. she was just so focused she had to stop.. I continued and she restarted, then Wayne's cock came in above me, telling me to keep on the clit as he fucked her. Looking at his dark olive circumcised cock with a big bend in it work it's way into her pussy from that angle will stay with me for the rest of my life, it was so hot i had to keep my tongue working her clit.. I could feel it push out with each thrust of his cock, his balls occasionnally smacking my forehead. It was so hot and she came again quickly, then I came, it was like a block dropping on me, my hip suddenly bucked up with sudden force, It surprised me and my pussy squirted , it was like a wave running through my body with all of the wave like moments, the sudden change had lost Wayne, I could see his balls rise and his cock jolt with each shoot of his cum.. Her pulled out to let the creme pie come down over her clitoris hood and into my mouth, her muscles squeezing more of it out with each thing. His cum and her juices so arousing as her tongue worked my clit I came again, this time more conservative, but equally intense if not more.

Bridgette slid off and lay next to me on the floor, telling me that was amazing. Wayne on the other side. All three of us looking up at the roof. I wondered what she was doing, I popped my head up to see my partners sister sitting on the bench in the kitchen with a glass of wine, her legs spread and her finger playing with her clitoris as she drank like an observer. My head slumped back. We lay chatting for a few minutes before another guy came over to ask if I was interested, from where I sat all i could see was his monster circumcised cock hanging down. I said let's make out and we did, he said he liked the taste of Bridgette's pussy on my mouth as we kissed. That was hot. Another guy came over and asked to join and before long I had three guys all touching me while I kissed one. I wanted to get them all to cum on me so offered to suck their cocks while their partners watched, they agreed and I sucked them all off until they came all over my face. By the end of the day I had sucked or fucked all of the guys there and several of the girls. I was exhausted and looking forward to bed by about 9pm.

I was disappointed to find my ex-partners sister asleep in my bed, but didn't have the energy to do anything. As I pulled the blankets back I realized she was naked but went into the bed anyway.

[spartanguard]

partners

summary: SVU detective Emma Swan's new partner is not what she expected. Thankfully, that's a good thing.

A/n: So I've been watching a LOT of Law & Order: SVU lately and when I got to the episodes where Stabler was partnered with Dani Beck, it just smacked with CS feels. This is just a bit of exploration of that, in honor of @optomisticgirl​ ‘s birthday!!

B—HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! Thank you for being the most amazing friend, and the best person to bounce crazy fic ideas off of (like this). I hope you have the most amazing day and I love you!!!!

Note: While there isn't any actual sexual violence in this story, it is an SVU AU, so it's mentioned.

rated T | 2.3k words | AO3

She met him while he was trying to arrest a perp who’d just walked.

“Are you Detective Swan?” he’d asked, and she immediately noticed his accent—the way it wrapped around her last name in a way that sent a shiver down her spine, but it was hard to tell if it was in a good way or not.

“Yeah, that’s me,” she tossed back.

“I’m your new partner. Killian Jones.”

She shook his offered hand (only later noticing he only had the one) and wondered—just what the hell were they about to get into?

[He was her second new partner in as many weeks. Graham, who she’d worked with since she joined the unit, had enough with special victims—with Boston in general—and had taken up some smalltown sheriff gig in Maine. Emma knew he’d be happier there, but it kind of left her in the lurch. They’d sent someone new over the week before, but her style didn’t gel with Mulan’s quite well enough—the woman was a damn fine detective but just...too different.]

Jones was new to special victims, transferring in on the recommendation of the captain at his previous precinct, where he’d worked in homicide. The dead victims, he was used to; the live ones—not so much.

It was pretty obvious on their first case together, when they were interviewing the young girl in the hospital. Emma—she’d seen enough of the world’s shitty side that little phazed her any more; growing up in the foster system made her uniquely suited to this line of work.

But Killian? He was visibly upset; she had to physically restrain him from running out of the hospital to start tracking down the culprit, holding him back by the sleeve of his leather jacket. They hardly had a lead on this. Something could be said for enthusiasm, but that didn’t excuse jumping ahead of themselves. That’s how you got into trouble—that was how criminals got away with murder (literally); she’d done that enough for the both of them, and had a feeling he had, too.

She felt they had a lot in common, actually; there was an obvious affinity for leather coats, but past that, there was something familiar in his eyes. Not that she’d met him before, or anything—just something in the determined set of his gaze when interviewing a suspect, in the empathetic way he handled the victim.

She still wasn’t sure if that was good or not, especially when he almost forgot protocol—almost lost them evidence—by rushing in too soon.

And she was half ready to walk into Captain Mills’ office to request a new partner (again) when she found him asleep at his desk with what could only be described as a murderboard spread out behind him. He looked younger and softer in his sleep, impossibly gorgeous with the way his long lashes rested on his cheekbones and gentle breaths from his full lips—and none of that was really pertinent, because the man had just researched his way to a solved case.

“Just who are you, Killian Jones?” she asked when she later woke him up with coffee and a bear claw (biting back a comment on the rumpled state of his usually pristine waistcoat-and-dress shirt combo).

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he drawled, holding her gaze intently before taking a long pull from his cup.

She knew she shouldn’t, but damn, did she.

It wasn’t until a couple cases later that she began to put together the pieces of him. It had been a doozy of a kidnapping, and he’d been on edge the whole time—right until they finally tracked down the little boy who’d been abducted. Emma slapped the cuffs on the miserable excuse for a father who’d taken him and Killian pulled the boy into his arms, visibly deflating once he knew he was safe.

She dragged him to their unit’s favorite bar that night and slid a glass of rum in front of him, along with the directive to “Talk.”

He downed it in one shot, then worried his bottom lip (much to Emma’s distraction) before saying, “Have I mentioned I have a daughter?”

Her eyebrows rose in surprise, but she let him explain without interruption. Her name was Alice; she was 8. He had sole custody, and with good reason: her mother, his ex-girlfriend, had kidnapped her from his apartment when she was only a few years old. “It’s the most scared I’ve ever been,” he confessed. “And today...it’s like I was right back in that moment.”

“I don’t blame you,” she replied, then finished her own whiskey. This was probably where she should drop some of her own tragic backstory, right? Like the scumbag who left her pregnant at 17, and the baby boy she put up for adoption? “Props to you for doing it on your own. I obviously couldn't.”

“Don’t beat yourself up, love; you gave him his best chance.” He gently set his hand over hers on the bar and she froze; not because he was cold—quite the opposite, actually—but between that tiny gesture of support and the understanding in those too-blue eyes, she felt more seen than she had by anyone in ages, even Graham.

It was suddenly too much, too intimate, and she yanked her hand away and ordered another drink. “Is your ex the name on your tattoo?” she asked, trying to put some space in between them (physically and emotionally).

It worked. He sat back up and tugged his right sleeve down with his prosthesis, hiding the ink, and she could almost see the walls go back up between them. “No. That’s...another story. For another time.” He stood and tossed some cash on the counter. “Alice is with my neighbor; I better go get her. See you ‘round.” And he left hastily.

It was what she wanted to happen. He’d suddenly gotten too close. So why did she feel like such an ass about it?

She was going to apologize at their next shift, but they got thrown into another case. And then another after it. It was a different kind of intense—a different kind of intimate—than that moment in the bar; very quickly, she had to trust him, and vice versa. That was something neither were predisposed to, but were managing to do...honestly, better than she had with anyone.

After putting another rapist behind bars, Killian said with a smirk, “I don’t mean to upset you, Swan, but I think we make quite the team.” And he winked (well, tried to), and she just blushed back, like she was a teenager in love all over again. That fact that would normally send her running but, for the first time in years, she wasn’t opposed to it—except for, y’know, the fact that he was her partner and they were coworkers and HR generally looked down on that kind of thing.

She doubted he was interested, anyway. They hadn’t really done anything outside of work since that night; he was always quick to get home to Alice, and she didn’t fault him that—especially when she finally met the kid, who was clearly her father’s daughter in all the best ways.

They got a call for a case late one weeknight; Emma easily beat him to the scene, since he had to make sure his neighbor could watch Alice at such an ungodly hour. She handed him a coffee when he got there and they made their way to the ME, to get the rundown on the vic. 

Emma had been paying attention, but it shifted from the examiner to Killian pretty quickly; he stiffened at the description of what had been done to the victim, then when white as the sheet covering her when it was pulled back.

“Eloise,” he whispered, like he’d seen a ghost.

“Wait—as in…?”

He nodded. “Aye. Alice’s mum.”

“Shit.”

They got what little information they could from the scene and then started to head for the precinct, but he was shaking so much, she insisted on driving.

“Are you gonna be alright?” she asked.

He let out a hollow chuckle. “No, probably not.” Then, one long breath later, “It was Gold.”

She nearly missed their turn at that. “Gold? As in, the mysterious Mr. Gold, owner of the pawn store chain?”

“One and the same,” Killian said, scrubbing a hand down his face. “It’s the same as with Milah.”

She would have asked who that was, but he was resting his prosthesis over the spot on his arm where she knew the tattoo was. And she got a sinking feeling in her stomach that this was going to be a rough case.

Once they got to the office (and she got some more coffee in him), Killian explained: Milah was his ex, his first love—but also Gold’s wife. And while Gold was well-known for being a shady individual, no one had ever been able to pin anything on him.

But Gold did find out about their affair, and Killian came home one day to find Milah—dead, attacked and killed in the same way Eloise had been hours ago. He wasn’t sure what their connection was—and he didn’t think Gold knew about his to Eloise, especially since she’d only been released from jail last week—“But I know it’s him. And I’m going to prove it this time.”

(Apparently, last time had ended with him getting into an altercation with one of Gold’s lackeys. He escaped with his life, but not with his left hand.)

Milah’s case had gone cold, but given the similarities, they were able to pull the files. It took a few weeks—several late nights, more than a few breakdowns, many tears (mostly Killian’s, but Emma’s and Alice’s as well) before they finally—finally—had the evidence to pin both murders on Gold.

Tracking him down was another thing altogether, but they finally caught up with him in his penthouse apartment. To no one’s surprise, he didn’t go willingly; a fistfight broke out between he and Killian. 

She was scared she’d have to intervene, knowing how personal it was. By the end of it, Killian had a black eye and a bloody lip, but Gold was in handcuffs, tossed unceremoniously in the back of a squad car. 

Killian watched the vehicle pull away, then turned to Emma, and wrapped his arms around her in a bruising hug. 

In any other situation, she would have gone stiff with shock, but she didn’t hesitate to lean right into him. Her desire to comfort him after that was just as strong as his need for comfort. 

But then he pulled back, cupped her cheek, and pressed his lips to hers. 

That did take her by surprise. 

But she was equally quick to reciprocate. 

Just as fast, it was over and he was walking away, leaving her utterly confused. Logically, she knew it was probably just an emotional reaction—a one-time thing. 

However: he kissed her like he meant it. She was familiar with empty kisses and single-night flings—and that...was a whole lot more. 

And she couldn’t deny it any longer: she wanted that more. 

She arrived at the precinct early the next morning, hoping to beat him there so they could talk about whatever that had been. She’d even gotten up an hour before she usually did so she could get them good coffee. But he was already there, filling out forms at his desk. 

“Hey,” she said, suddenly feeling incredibly awkward as she put the cup on his desk. “You taking care of the reports?”

“Um, yeah,” he stammered, pointedly focusing on the paperwork and not her. 

She glanced down at the desk, and that wasn’t a report—that was a transfer form. “You want to leave?” she whispered, the familiar pain of betrayal washing over her. He didn’t want to be her partner anymore? 

“Emma, I can’t stay here,” he said, only somewhat apologetic. (Also, though she didn’t realize it at the moment, it was the first time he’d used her given name.) “After this last case...it just wouldn’t be good form.”

“Fuck your good form, Jones!” she cried. “How can you say that, after everything these past few months? After last night?”

Calmly, he stood up and moved into her space. “I can’t be your partner any more, Emma,” he said, reaching up to brush her hair behind her ear. “Because I want to be more than that. And last I checked, Captain Mills frowned upon inter-unit relations.”

That was true; she really did, more than most. But then the reality of what Killian was saying hit: “You...you’d give up your position for me?”

“Aye,” he answered, simply, like it wasn’t the heaviest thing anyone had ever told her. 

What else was she supposed to do after a confession like that but kiss him? She rose up on her toes, gripped the lapels of his waistcoat, and found his lips with hers. He didn’t hesitate to pull her close and she was exceedingly glad no one else was in the squad room, because she’d never quite been kissed so closely to within an inch of her life as she’d been then.

(Also, it was a good thing no one was around when he pushed her onto his desk to deepen it further. If Captain Mills later noticed the forms were a bit crumpled, she didn’t say anything.) 

Killian ended up transferring back to his old precinct, old job. It turned out they missed him. Emma knew exactly why; her next partner, David, was great, but no match. 

Good thing she got to go home to Killian—and Alice—every night. 

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

thanks for reading, and send B all the birthday love! tagging some others:

@kat2609​ @thesschesthair​  @xpumpkindumplingx​ t @cocohook38​ @annytecture​ @shireness-says​ @ohmightydevviepuu​ @profdanglaisstuff​ @wingedlioness​ @word-bug​ @thisonesatellite​ @distant-rose​ @wellhellotragic​ @welllpthisishappening​ @let-it-raines​ @pirateherokillian​ @its-imperator-furiosa​ @fergus80​ @thejollyroger-writer​ @ineffablecolors​ @laschatzi​ @ive-always-been-a-pirate​  @stubblesandwich​​ @phiralovesloki​ @athenascarlet​ @kmomof4​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ @snowbellewells​ @idristardis​ @scientificapricot​ @searchingwardrobes​ @donteattheappleshook​

[random-artist15]

Random vent/rant

I don't know what to do. My mum and dad are both transphobic and don't understand things. But they are very negative about it.

I can't come out to them

Cause they will put me down like the last time I came out to them

They just think “if your born a girl, your a girl„ or “if your born a boy, your a boy„

When I used to be pansexual my mum asked if I had an attraction to pans. Seriously, that just annoys me

They made it sound like i'm the disappointment of the family

My dad is homophobic, but he doesn't care what gender I date. My mum is kinda supportive with some sexualitys

And I'm also a furry

A furry is someone who likes to make characters that are animals and they like to dress up as them sometimes (Dino masks, fur suits, paper masks etc) I asked my mum what she thinks a furry is

And she said “they r@pe people„

I haven't told her I'm a furry but I don't think I ever will.

There's so many people on tiktok who get a lot of support from their parents

Like tapocia on tiktok, their family supports them (idk tapocias pronouns)

And all those people in the LGBTQ+ community getting supported, good for them but I'm kinda jealous. Some parents are like “oh I'll help you at a certain age„ but not my parents. They won't support me. Ever. I just want to be who I am without being disappointed by my parents

I've been having other troubles too. My mum and dad are very mean. To the point where they got up me for not understanding something.

I don't like being around my mum because the first time I started to self harm, she said she would send me to a mental hospital, even though she noticed what she said was wrong, it was just a little too much

My dad compares me to my auntie and uncle all the time. I'm not going to be like them. I'm not going to become a smoker, druggo or a Alcoholic like them

And also my dad doesn't show any love to my mum other. It's like a one sided relationship. And they are supposed to get married

Not to mention the fact my mum is pregnant and that baby might have to get aborted if he/she has the syndrome my brother has.

I have a feeling. When my brother passes. My whole family is going to break apart. And more things will happen. I don't want my brother to leave. He probably won't make it pass the age of four.

He'll never have a girlfriend or a boyfriend

His medication amounts keep getting raised

When he was at the hospital, once they stabbed the heck out of him with needles until they find the vein. It took them 8 times

Also my brother has had to have drugs pumped into him to keep him alive, he has had a lot of feeding tubes on him(once blood came out of them), we can lose him at any time. And there's nothing we will be able to do about it.

Hes nearly died on the floor of my old house, i've seen the ambulances so many times

Coming to my house. And all I can think is. I'm. Useless. I can't help him in anyway. I'm the oldest out of 2.

I also feel really bad. I kinda cut again recently, the cuts are gone now, but I had school the next day when I did it. And I wore a long sleeve black shirt under my uniform. My lovely partner asked why I was wearing it and I said I was cold.

And when we were cuddling at lunch they held my arm. I was so scared that they were gonna notice

I wanted to tell them what I did but I was scared of their reaction, especially after what my mum scared to me 3 years ago.

I have issues with telling people when I have self harm. I don't want to make them sad. But not telling them might make them more sad.

Also the fact that my ex might be spreading rumors about me and my best friend. I could lose most of my old friends because of them

I don't want that to happen. And I don't want anyone to think badly of my best friend

Anyway I guess that's all. You don't have to say anything about this and sorry if I triggered anyone, have a good day/Night and stay safe :) - Stan

[penwieldingdreamer]

Caring Makes You Weak - Part 2

Summary: Harvey Specter, best closer in New York City and Senior Partner at Pearson Hardman, the man most females in the city want, yet he himself doesn’t want commitment, because caring makes one weak. Enter Elle Howard, a woman he met a long time ago. Will she be the one to break down his walls and make him care?

Thanks again for beta'ing @fortheloveoffanfic

Warnings: Light cursing, an evil stepmother(?)

Words: 1544

Hardman was gone, the merger with Zane pushed away again but now Jessica wanted to merge with Edward Darby and Harvey wanted - needed to stop it one way or another.

And now the one person he'd had worked very hard to forget about waltzed back into his life because his associate had taken her case. He was never the committing type and he should have never agreed to help Mike with that pro Bono. It wasn't even his case to begin with, so what had changed?

Staring out his windows he thought back to the first time he had met her. How could one woman rattle his brain like that? First Dana Scott, then Zoe Lawford and now…now there was Elle Howard.

Harvey had met her while out celebrating a big win with Jessica and Louis. When he walked up to the bar, she stood there, the fabric of her dress tight around her curves as she waited for her drink.

"Can I get you a drink?" he asked, leaning one arm onto the bar while he looked the redhead up and down.

She turned a smile on her lips and a drink in her hand. "I believe I'm still good, thank you."

"Well, why don't we move on to the next one?" Harvey smirked at her, holding out his hand for introductions. "I'm Harvey Specter."

Rolling her eyes, she emptied her drink and grabbed the clutch laying on the bar top. "And I'm not interested." The redhead nodded her head and moved to walk around him.

The warmth in his belly was replaced by a coldness as if someone had doused him with ice water. It had been some time since a woman had brushed him off with not being interested but he clearly was and he needed to get to know her. "Please, just let me buy you a drink." he said, his hand lightly holding onto her arm.

Sighing, the redhead turned, her blue-green eyes narrowing in on the lawyer. "You don't like a woman saying no, do you?"

"I always win them over, so I'd say you should take my offer." Harvey told her, nodding at Louis and Jessica, who just left the bar.

Moving closer to him, the woman smiled, her eyes shining with mirth. "Well in that case, I expect you to work your magic to win this case Mister Lawyer."

"How did you know I'm a lawyer?" Harvey asked astonished, not that he could have hidden his job in a bar full of businessmen.

The redhead smirked, leaning over to whisper in his ear. "It's not so hard to figure out, to be honest. So I'm looking forward to when you've won that case, too."

"Harvey!"

Blinking, the dark haired lawyer turned to face his associate. "What you got, Mike?"

"I've been calling you five minutes straight." the dark blond said, a smile on his face as Donna laughed at her cubicle. "What's got you so occupied?"

Shaking his head, Harvey held out his hand to look over the files. "Did you find some dirt on Tanner we can use?"

"Ah, not yet." Mike scratched the back of his neck, watching his boss carefully. "I wanted to ask Louis to help me with the financials, something doesn't seem right."

"Then get to it, I got something else to take care of." he got up from his chair, buttoning his jacket before he left his office. "I'll be back later, keep my schedule clear."

Donna and Mike looked after their boss before they faced each other. "What just happened?"

"I have no idea Junior, but he's been in a mood ever since you got back from Elle Howard last Friday." the secretary said, taking a sip from the latte Mike had brought her at lunch.

Once outside on the street level, Harvey waited for Ray to drive up. He needed to get a clear answer to the questions circling around his head. The black Lexus stopped in front of him and his driver got out, opening the door for him. "Where to, Harvey?"

"To the past." he sighed, giving his driver the address. The Indian man nodded his head, started the music and drove off.

"You want to talk about it, boss?" Ray had known his employer for nearly three years now and in all that time nothing had rattled him like the case he took on with Mike Ross. Harvey shook his head, watching the city fly by as the car made its way out of Manhattan and over to Williamsburg.

"Elle!"

Elle had to get the cries of her kids out of her head, so she decided to go grocery shopping and enjoy the walk over to the store not far from her apartment. Just when she got back, the redhead saw a black car parked on the street in front of her door. Sighing, she tightened her grip on the bags and ignored the sound of a car door opening.

She would recognize that voice anywhere. "What can I help you with, Harvey? Is there something good happening with the case?"

"Mike is still looking into it, but actually I'm here because I need to ask you something." the lawyer said moving closer to her. "Why did you really leave those years ago?"

Elle knew what he was getting into and she still had her secrets, things she couldn't have told him then and would definitely not tell him now. "You know it didn't work out for us."

"You still believe that?" he argued, pushing one hand into the pockets of his suit pants, clenching it with all his might. "I know that isn't the reason why, so stop that bullshit and tell me what made you rethink everything."

Shaking her head, the redhead walked around him, moving swiftly to the entrance of the apartment building she shared with Mike, but Harvey was faster. His hand held onto her arm, tight enough to stop her, but loose enough to not hurt her. Elle blinked her light eyes at the lawyer as she tried to form words without spilling what she had longed to tell him all those years ago. "We both wanted different things and you know it."

"Is that why you suddenly up and left New York? I asked Lucille and she told me you went to Boston. You didn't even think that you could have talked to me?"

Pulling away from him, she opened her mouth to answer him, but there was no sound coming out. Elle needed to get her head straightened out before she could really talk to Harvey and just when she knew what she would tell him, her phone rang again. The redhead pulled it out of her jeans' back pocket showing Charlie's name on the display. "I'm sorry, I have to take this."

"Mum" he sniffled and Elle immediately felt tears come to her own eyes. "Please come and get us. I hate it here."

She could hear his cries and the lawyer in front of her was totally forgotten. "Charlie, baby, what's going on?"

"I want to come back to you. I hate Sarah and she doesn't even want us there. She's mean to Izzy and me. Please, mommy, come and take us home."

Clasping a hand to her lips, Elle fought the urge to break down when she listened to her sweet boy cry because of her ex husband's new wife. "I'm sorry, sweetie, but I can't come and take you home. You know that we still have to wait a bit."

"No! I wanna go home now. Izzy doesn't like it here, too." the young mother could hear her youngest crying next to her son and she knew she had to put an end to it.

Closing her eyes, Elle took a deep breath. "Charlie listen to me, I'm going to come over and we'll talk, okay."

"Okay, I guess." She knew her son wasn't satisfied with her answer, but there was no way she was giving Travis more power over her, than he already had.

Harvey had listened to the conversation and was trying to come up with possible scenarios to fight against Tanner, just so he didn't have to listen to the kids crying for their mother. "I'm coming with you, Tanner isn't going to be happy with you showing up at his house."

"I can do that on my own, I know Travis." Elle tried to argue with the lawyer but from the look he shot her, she knew she'd have to fight him tooth and nails. "I don't need your help to make sure my kids are fine."

Shaking his head, he took a step back from her. "It's either me or I'm sending Mike to Tanner's house and you know it's not going to be pretty." Harvey held up his phone, ready to dial his associate so he could make sure nothing was going wrong and would destroy the case.

"Okay." the redhead muttered, lowering her head in defeat, she trusted Mike, but not around her ex-husband, he could be petty and it would end up in bloodshed if something went wrong. Rolling her blue eyes, she nodded, albeit reluctantly. "Fine. But at least let me get the shopping inside."

[winterisakillerwrites]

Enough

Title: Enough

One Shot: 1/1

Character: Tom Hiddleston/Sadie Collins (OFC)

Genre: romance/slight angst/realistic fluff

Rating: T

Summary: Sadie was everything Tom had always wanted; she was brilliant, funny, well read and, in his opinion, one of the most beautiful people he’d ever known. She held his attention like no one else in recent memory had. The only problem? She already belonged to someone else…  

Authors Notes/Warnings: This is for @just-the-hiddles 1k writing challenge, my dialogue prompt was “All I wanted was a happy ending”. This story took several twists and turns before ending up here. I hope you enjoy this @just-the-hiddles. A huge, huge, HUGE shout out to my writing partner in crime @redfoxwritesstuff, you have been an absolute godsend with this. I am eternally grateful for all your support and encouragement.

“All I wanted was a happy ending. Was that too much to ask for?”

The words fell softly from her trembling lips. She kept herself apart from him, hands wrapped protectively over her chest. Tom could see the shine of unshed tears in her eyes and felt his gut clench. Pain radiated off of her in waves and in that moment there was nothing Tom wanted more than to take away her pain. To fix everything. To see her smile again. Just once more.

Tom had always loved her smile; the way it lit her face and warmed any and everything around her. It had been one of the first things that had captured his attention nearly a year and a half before. He’d been dragged to yet another party (a way for him to meet people his manager assured him would benefit his career) and had found himself caught in another boring conversation when he’d allowed his gaze to wander around the room. She’d been standing near a bookcase, talking with a woman he’d recognized but couldn’t place. She’d been smiling and laughing at whatever her companion had said and Tom found himself unable to look away.

It had taken nearly fifteen minutes to work his way through to the room to reach her. He’d been stopped several times both by various actors he’d worked with in the past and by industry people who were interested in picking his brain regarding upcoming projects (had he ever considered this or that idea or was he looking forward to working with this actor/actress or this director). Tom has done his best to talk with them all (wouldn’t Luke and Michael be proud to see their continuing lectures on marketing oneself paying off), keeping a weathered eye on where she’d stood. The last thing he wanted was to risk losing sight of her and have her disappear right under his nose. Not when was so close.

Tom smiled as he finally extracted himself from conversation with a fellow RADA graduate he’d not seen in years but had gotten on with fairly well, wishing the man luck in his next endeavor; a period piece set to air on the BBC the following spring. Tom stole a quick glance toward the bookcase and was grateful to find her still there. Though her conversational partner had changed.

She was quite short, he’d noted. Shorter than he’d first thought. Her light brown hair was pulled back into a bun at the base of her skull, leaving the smooth skin of her neck and shoulders bare to his gaze. She’d dressed simply in a tea length dark blue dress. Nothing quite as flashy as he’d found to be common place at such gatherings but something that seemed to suit her perfectly.

“Excuse me,” he started, moving the last few feet towards her. Tom was exceedingly grateful to find her on her own; the companion he’d seen her with a few moments earlier had disappeared. “I don’t mean to be forward but I realize we’ve not been introduced and I wanted to remedy that. I’m Tom Hiddleston.”

He extended his hand toward her and felt a jolt of something when she took it gently in her own. Her hand was soft and warm. So small compared to his own.

“Sadie Collins. Very nice to meet you, Tom.”

And just as easily as that, Tom found himself completely lost.

They spent the rest of the evening simply talking. He’d learned she was a script editor for the BBC (she’d studied literature and film at Uni and had been lucky enough to catch the right person’s eye shortly after graduating) and had grown up not too far, incidentally, from where he himself had lived as a young boy. She was an only child and found his stories about his trials and tribulations as the middle child between two very different sisters hysterical. Sadie loved dogs (and cats and most mammals if she was being completely honest) and they talked at length about their mutual desire to own a dog of some sort once their lives were more settled. He talked about his recent experiences filming in the states and his upcoming projects. She talked about the latest show she’d been working on. Tom couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so utterly at ease around another person.

It wasn’t until Sadie mentioned the trip she’d taken a few months prior (a surprise anniversary gift from her boyfriend of two and a half years) that Tom felt the cloud he’d been standing on disappear. Of course she wasn’t single. Why would she be? She was a fascinating, brilliant, and charming woman. Any man would be out of their mind to let her get away. He silenced that small voice in his head roaring its displeasure. You can’t win them all, Hiddleston.

“Greece is absolutely lovely.” He’d found himself answering, hoping his smile hadn’t faltered. “Where exactly did you end up staying?”

She gushed about the tiny villa they’d stayed in and the days they’d spent exploring. Her boyfriend worked as a researcher for one of the university’s she’d liaised with through the BBC. They shared a love of exploring and history and it was abundantly clear to Tom she adored him. The way her face lit up as she talked about the history and the culture she’d immersed herself in during her trip was absolutely breathtaking.

He’d thrown out his own opinions and experiences and soon felt the disappointment in him tamper down. She might be taken but that didn’t mean the end of the world. Besides, with the way his career was shaping up, any sort of romantic relationship would unfortunately be forced onto the back burner. He simply wouldn’t have time to dedicate to building a meaningful something with another person.

That, in part, was why his last relationship had fallen apart. He had hardly been home in the last eight months and his ex couldn’t handle that. Especially knowing that it wasn’t (and couldn’t be) a one off thing. If he wanted to actually work in this industry, wanted to truly make a go of it, he had to keep himself out there and take any and every opportunity he could. So she’d handed him back her key to his flat, kissed him on the cheek and left. It had hurt, losing what he’d hoped would be a solid source of love and normalcy in the chaos he knew his life was diving into, but he’d understood. So he’d let her go.

“My god, it’s nearly midnight.” Sadie exclaimed, glancing at the watch on her wrist in disbelief. “I can’t believe it. I hadn’t planned on staying so late.”

Tom blinked in surprise. “Is it really?” He could have sworn it was much, much earlier. Surely they couldn’t have talked for hours. He let out a soft chuckle. “I guess it’s like they say, time flies when you’re having fun.” The words were lame and he’d known it but they’d left his mouth before he’d really processed them and there wasn’t anything he could do about it now.

Sadie laughed softly and shrugged. “I guess so. But that being said, I best be off. It was wonderful meeting you, Tom. I hope to do so again in future.”

He offered a small smile, ignoring the small jolt in his gut at the thought of her leaving. “I hope so as well.”

With a wave and a smile she was gone.

                                                           —

Tom had done his utmost to put that night behind him (and any lingering hope of what could have been had so many things been different), throwing himself in the maelstrom that his life was becoming. It was more difficult than he’d bargained for though. Sadie would creep into his thoughts seemingly at random throughout the day; he’d find himself studying lines and wondering what she was doing, sitting in a make-up chair and remembering the way her hazel eyes sparkled when she laughed, trying to squeeze in his daily run and replaying the stories she told him. It was utterly ridiculous. And there was little he could do to stop it.

If any noticed his distracted behavior, they had the good grace to never mention it. And that, Tom felt, was both a blessing and a curse. It meant maybe this…whatever it was…hadn’t been affecting his working life nearly as badly as he feared. It also meant that no one was there to really snap him out of it, save himself. And he managed, well enough. Jumping from project to project to promotion helped. Half the time he was too exhausted to do more than fall into whatever hotel bed he’d been assigned for the night, sleeping like the dead until he was roused by Luke or whatever poor sod was sent in his place. It wasn’t a maintainable pace by any stretch of the imagination, but he was young enough still and didn’t want to risk missing a single opportunity while he had the chance.

He spoke as often as he could with his mum and sisters, clinging to that small piece of normalcy and comfort they provided. He endured his mother’s quite vocal concern that he was burning the candle at both ends and could easily burn himself out in the process with as much grace as he was able. She’d had a point, of that he was most certainly aware. But, he’d assured her, this was only temporary. He would slow down as soon as he could. He told her that he knew his limits and he respected them. It was clear she didn’t quite believe him but she didn’t fight him on the matter. Not too much, anyway.

When he’d finally made it back home (he’d scored a brief two weeks completely free between projects and dear god it was desperately needed), Tom had all but cried in relief. It was wonderful being in his own space, to be able to see his friends and family. He’d filled a great deal of his time trying to squeeze in seeing everyone he could, something his mother chastised him for during the afternoon he’d taken to drive up to Suffolk to see her. “Not that I am not grateful to see you, darling. I just worry you’re doing too much. This is your rest time. You should actually try to spend it doing just that.” The time he didn’t spend sleeping or with friends and family was spent trying to finish all those little tasks that seemed to slip to the wayside.

He’d been out, finishing a quick round of shopping (yes, he could have people do it for him, and yes, it would make his life infinitely easier, but he’d needed the chance to feel as normal and grounded as possible) when he found himself staring at a very familiar face. He’d all but collided with her in his hurry to get out of the shop and on his way back home.

She stared up at him in bewildered annoyance before a spark of recognition flashed in her hazel eyes. The same eyes he’d seen all too often when he’d closed his eyes at night. Not that he would ever tell her so.

“Tom!” Sadie exclaimed, happily; her smile wide and bright. She moved, resettling the reusable shopping bag farther back on her shoulder. “How have you been?”

He returned her smile with a genuine one of his own. “Sadie, it’s wonderful to see you. I’ve been well. Busy but well. How are you?”

“Busy as well,” she answered with a laugh. “Though granted not quite as busy as you’ve seemed to be.”

Tom rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. “Yeah. It’s been a bit…”

“Insane?” She offered.

He laughed and nodded. “That would certainly be one way of putting it.” He adjusted the bag in his hand, consciously aware of the fact that he needed to get his perishable items home relatively soon. But doing so would mean leaving Sadie and leaving now was something he knew he absolutely did not want to do. “Things still going well at the Beeb?”

Sadie laughed and nodded, “Very well. I’ve got two series getting ready for production in the next few months which is exciting and terrifying all at once.”

“I can imagine.”

The glint of light off her hand as she brushed a stray lock of hair from her face caught his eye.

Her left hand.

Tom felt his gut clench as his eyes focused on her hand and the ring that rested on her finger. It was a lovely piece of jewelry, he had to admit. A thing gold band with a rather large diamond (he didn’t know enough about diamonds to guess its value other than it must have been worth quite a fair amount of money).

She was engaged. When had that happened? He’d known she was seeing someone (and had been for a while) but an engagement meant the relationship was serious. The small bit of hope he’d stubbornly clung to crumbled in that moment and he cursed himself for ever even entertaining the idea of having any sort of chance with her in the first place. She wasn’t his to claim. In reality he’d only known her a few handful of hours. How that could ever translate into anything more…Especially not with regards to the madness that was his life at the moment.

He cleared his throat and nodded softly towards her hand. “I see congratulations are in order.”

She looked at him in confusion for a few moments before her face cleared and she smiled brightly. “Thank you. It’s been about a month now and I’m still trying to wrap my head round it.” He watched as she unconsciously looked down at the ring on her hand before raising her eyes back to his.

Tom returned her smile (though the action felt strained). She seemed so happy though, and he couldn’t let himself do anything to jeopardize that. “Understandable. Have you set a date yet?”

Sadie shook her head. “Not formally, no. But we’ve been thinking sometime late next year or early the year after at the latest. Nothing over the top, though. Something small, intimate. Just us and family.”

He nodded, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Sounds wonderful.” And he’d meant it. Silence fell between them and they stood, watching one another for several minutes before Tom cleared his throat. “I…I need to get this shopping home. It’s been wonderful seeing you again, Sadie. I hope I will get to do so again in future.”

“Well if you ever find yourself on a BBC production…” Sadie let the words hang between them, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear.

Tom smiled warmly at her. “If I do, I will certainly look you up.”

She stepped to the side to let him pass, raising her hand and offering a quick wave. He nodded his head towards her, taking her in one last time before hurrying off down the busy pavements towards home.

                                                          —

Two days later found Tom sitting across from his agent, script in hand. It was still technically his holiday (he had two more days of freedom before delving back into the chaos of another long shoot) and when Michael called that morning his first instinct had been to switch the bloody device off and to let the man hang. But his damned curiosity had gotten the better of him.

He’d been sitting, nursing his coffee and reading through the newspaper before him when his mobile rang; Michael’s number scrolling across the screen. Tom groaned aloud, disgruntled at his peace being disrupted and curious as to what was so urgent that his agent couldn’t wait another few days. A part, it seemed. And one he’d fully believed Tom would jump at.

So far Michael had been correct. He’d only gotten through the first few pages but he was already hooked. He also didn’t miss that it was a modern take on a very familiar Shakespearian play. Tom sighed, knowing full well he had a type and just how well those around him seemed to know it. Still, judging by the length of the script and the bare details Michael had given him, the project appeared to be a lengthy one and Tom wasn’t sure how his schedule, as packed as it was rapidly becoming, was going  to be able to fit this in. He was getting up there in recognition (something he still couldn’t quite wrap his head around) but he didn’t quite think he had the clout to entertain the idea of getting this project to work around his schedule and not that of its producers.

“Well?” Michael sat across from him, hands folded on the desk top, eyes intent.

“It’s quite good…Very good, if I’m being honest…”

“Then why am I sensing a bit of hesitation?”

Tom scrubbed a hand over his face. He’d forgone shaving during his break and therefore had the makings of a fairly decent beard. It had itched something fierce coming in but he’d found it rather comforting now, mainly for the bit of anonymity it brought him. People who spotted him on the street still stared but now couldn’t quite seem to place him. It was wonderfully freeing to wander down the streets of central London left more or less to his own devices.

“I just…You know how packed my schedule is.” He paused, picking up the script and held it up towards Michael. “I love this, and you knew that I would, but how can I possibly fit this in…I’m booked very nearly solid for the next several months.”

Michael nodded. “Fair point, Tom. But they want you and they are willing to work with your schedule if that means getting you.”

“Seriously?” It didn’t make any sort of sense. Yes, he was doing rather well for himself, but there was a staggering difference between that and having a production company point blank that they were willing to work around your availability.

“Seriously.” Michael leant over the desk, smiling at his client. “So shall I ring them and say you’re in?”

Tom blinked, letting the idea slowly sink in. It was a fantastic part and he very much wanted the ability to work with it. After several moments he nodded. “Yes, please.”

                                                         —

Tom settled himself at the table set up for the day’s read-through. He’d made small talk with a few of the actors and the show’s director as they waited for everyone to trickle in. Catching up with familiar faces and introducing himself to those he’d not had the pleasure of knowing. For the last several months he (and Michael and Luke) had been in constant contact with the show’s producers, trying to nail time availability and start planning concrete rehearsal and filming schedules. It was grueling and the stress might certainly have done him in had he not been so excited to start.

Murmured conversations echoed all around him as he grabbed a water bottle that had been left at his place and twisted its cap off. A quick glance at his watch told him they had maybe five minutes before things were set to start. He glanced around the room, taking in a few familiar faces as the writing team settled into their respective places. At two minutes to the hour the door opened once more. Out of habit more than anything, Tom glanced up and felt everything around him freeze.

With her hair piled high on her head and a warm, royal blue cardigan wrapped around her shoulders, Sadie slipped into the room smiling warmly at various faces she recognized. He hadn’t he faintest idea she was at all involved in the project and felt idiotic for not realizing it sooner. She was a script editor for the BBC and had worked on similar projects (he was willing to admit, if only to himself, that he had looked up her work history online after their initial meeting; his innate curiosity winning out over his sense of propriety). It would make complete and total sense that she’d be involved in this.

It wasn’t until she’d settled between the director and the head writer that Sadie seemed to take note of him. The smile that had spread across her face was bright and Tom swore he could feel the warmth radiating from it. She mouthed a quick ‘hello’ which he returned in kind with a wide smile of his own. There was a brief flurry of introduction before they set to work on the first proper table read. They flew through the first few pages with ease, pausing occasionally to play with wording or with the timing of a pause or start of a line.

Tom had always enjoyed this process of a new production; getting to build off of his fellow actors and see the raw form of the story they were telling start to take shape. There were several kinks still to work out, as there tended to be this early in the game. Odd phrasings or scene placements that didn’t quite fit. Nothing they wouldn’t eventually sort out one way or another.

Out of the corner of his eye, Tom could see Sadie scribbling furiously away on her copy of the script, occasionally breaking to share an aside with the writer. He smiled at the obvious dedication she had for her work. It was yet another piece of the puzzle that was her and he was eager to learn all that he could. He did his utmost best to focus on the pages before him. The last thing he wanted was to be the one holding up their progress through the script. They made it through the next several pages before breaking for lunch.

Several people attempted to engage him in conversation and he’d done his best to remain polite while trying to slip through the throng and catch Sadie before she had a chance to disappear. True, she would most likely be back after lunch, he’d known that, but it hadn’t stopped the need to talk with her. By the time he’d extricated himself from the rehearsal room, Sadie was nowhere to be found. He cursed his own innate sense of politeness and headed through the hallway, hoping she’d not gone too far.

He caught up with her at the coffee cart in the lobby of the building. She was in the middle of her order, absently reaching into her purse for her wallet. Without thinking, he pulled his from his back pocket and took out a crumpled twenty pound note, handing it over to the woman running the cart. “A pour over as well, love,” he added. The fleeting worry that perhaps he’d overstepped his bounds hit him as soon as the words left his lips. Gods above, I sound like a complete arse.

Bewildered, Sadie turned around. Her confusion quickly melted into surprised amusement. “Tom?”

“Sadie.” He took the change handed back to him, dropping a few of the pound coins into the tip jar. “Sorry, I know I am intruding, I just…It’s wonderful to see you.”

“It’s nice to see you as well Tom.” She took the coffees, handing Tom his steaming mug, before turning back and grabbing the sandwich she’d ordered. “You didn’t have to buy my lunch though. I may not be rolling in coin like someone I know,” she shot him a knowing look, “but I can afford a coffee and a sandwich.”

Tom winced. God, he had overstepped.

Sadie tossed back her head and laughed. “Jesus, Tom, I was just messing with you. I’m not at all upset that a rather well off film star felt the need to buy me lunch.” She reached up and patted him lightly on the arm. Tom felt the familiar surge of electricity in her touch. “…Honestly, though, thank you. You really didn’t have to.”

A wave of relief flooded through him (the absolute last thing he’d wanted was to turn her off by acting like a prat) and he offered a small, but cheeky smile. “You can spot me next time then.”

She quirked an eyebrow. “You seem so certain there’ll be a next time.”

“Hopeful is more accurate,” he answered with a small shrug. “I figure I will be seeing a lot of you on this project, with your job and mine being what they are, and a friendly face is always a welcome sight on shoots.” He rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand, knowing he was letting his mouth run away with him once again. He was forever being lectured about it from both Michael and Luke (“My God, Tom, for once can you think before you open your mouth?”); what could be endearing also tended to be a logistical and PR nightmare in certain situations.

“Fair point,” she conceded, smiling as she shook her head. “But keep in mind, next time I am paying, Hiddleston.”

“Dully noted.”

                                                       —

As table reads turned into rehearsals and then into actual filming, Tom found himself lost once more in the insanity that was his chosen career. He was grateful for the lack of heavy, often stifling period costume. As fun as it could be to play dress up (his inner four year-old still giggled in delight that he was actually paid to do this), running around in several layers of leather and the like was not something he particularly enjoyed.

The modern setting of this particular story meant a much shorter jaunt in make-up and wardrobe and in a much freer feeling of movement. Alice, his costar, had been in full agreement. “Corsets are bloody murder,” she’d told him as they waited for the scene to be set on the first few days of filming. “They may look pretty but fuck if you have any real ability to move.”

Sadie had been on set most days over the last several months, running back and forth with updated copies of scripts and talking with the director and cast as needed. And Tom had done his best to try to pick her brain whenever she saw her on set. They’d taken to making coffee runs and, when they could, quick lunches (mostly whatever they could nick from the catering tents) and endless, endless talking. Sadie, he quickly found, was one of the easiest people to talk to. She was brilliant and quick on her feet and willing to match him word for word in whatever debate they ended up in. It was easy for Tom to forget he hadn’t known her forever, that they hadn’t been friends for ages.

In a way her engagement (it still tugged at his heart to think the word and of just what it meant) had been a blessing in disguise. Tom had wanted her from the moment they’d met (there was no point in denying it to himself anymore) and had she been free and he’d made a move….would he be sitting here now, across from her talking about the latest books they’d read (she tended to lead him in that category as his life had been far too chaotic to allow him time to truly lose himself in a book that wasn’t work related). Or would it have burnt out just as quickly as it started and have left him never knowing just how amazing a person she truly was. It didn’t bear thinking. And honestly what good would thinking about all the ‘what ifs’ and ‘what fors’ do him? Things were as they were and he couldn’t change them even had he wanted to. He accepted it, was grateful for the small pieces he was able to have. The warmth of her friendship was worth any lingering want.

                                                       —

“What are you doing for the holidays?” Sadie asked, bringing her takeaway coffee cup to her lips and blowing softly before taking a cautious sip. It was a week before filming was set to break for the winter holidays. She and Tom taken to hiding in his makeshift trailer between takes most days that week as they’d been finishing most of the exterior scenes.

It had been an absolutely blustery day and despite the fact they’d broken for lunch nearly twenty minutes before, Tom still felt half frozen. He’d kept the parka he’d been given by the wardrobe department on and cranked the tiny space heater he’d found in his trailer as high as he’d dared, and still he was shivering intermittently. His only saving grace was the idea that after today the majority of the exterior shots would be complete. And thank god for that.

Tom chuckled and rubbed his hands up and down the insides of crossed arms, hoping a bit of friction would stop the shivering. “My eldest sister and her husband are flying in from India. We’re all heading up to my mum’s for Christmas. I haven’t had a Christmas at home in the last few years, with my life being what it’s been, and I am so, so glad I’m able to this year.” He paused and took a sip of his own coffee, wincing as it burned his mouth and throat. “And you?”

She smiled warmly at him. “Andy and I are heading up to Edinburgh to visit his family.”

“Very nice.” Tom paused and took another sip of his coffee. “When are you heading up?”

Sadie placed her cup beside her on the trailer floor. The small table beside her had been taken over by pages of script and other various bits and bobs Tom had collected in the past few weeks of filming and was virtually unusable as a table. “Friday afternoon. He’s got a late class at the university and we’re heading up after.”

Tom nodded in understanding. “I’m heading to mum’s Saturday morning. My scenes should be wrapped up by then and I’m hoping if I leave early enough I can beat a fair bit of the traffic.”

“Good luck with that,” Sadie laughed, shaking her head. “We’re taking the train.” She laughed at the face Tom made. “Yes, I know it’ll be crowded but it’s infinitely easier than driving the whole way. Andy’s brother is set to collect us from the station and take us to his parents.”

A knock sounded on the trailer door followed by the familiar voice of Hanna, one of the PA’s on set. “Five minutes, Tom!”

“Alright!” he called back, glancing instinctively towards the door. He turned his attention back to Sadie and felt the familiar pool of disappointment in his gut as she smiled at him and pushed herself to her feet.

He watched as she gathered her bag and her nearly empty coffee cup and headed towards the trailer door. “I’ll let you get back to work. If I don’t see you before we break, happy Christmas Tom.”

“Happy Christmas.” He took two steps towards her and pulled her into a quick hug. “Take care of yourself alright?”

“Always.” She shrugged into her coat and slipped out into the windy afternoon.

Tom sighed as he heard the door click closed behind her. He settled himself onto the narrow and far too short couch and closed his eyes, wanting to enjoy his last few moments of warmth before having to surrender himself to the mercy of the bitter cold. He had just managed to get warm enough to doze off when another knock sounded on the door. With a groan, Tom flipped off the space heater and headed out of the trailer, following Hanna back towards set.

                                                         —

Tom settled himself onto the couch the following Friday evening, a cup of hot chocolate in one hand, and sighed. His bag was packed and waiting by the door in the front hall. Part of him had been tempted to say ‘fuck it’ and drive up that night, but the sudden hit of his own exhaustion steadied his hand. The absolute last thing he’d wanted was to end up wrapping his car around a tree because he’d nodded off at the wheel. Best to try to call it an early night and leave first thing in the morning like he’d originally planned.

He took a small sip of the steaming chocolate and let its warmth flood through him. He bent forward, grabbing the remote for the television he hardly ever used and turned it on. Several journeys through the channels later he settled on a Christmas special for one of the newer BBC dramas. He hadn’t a clue what was happening in the program but the background noise was a lovely distraction to the silence of the house.

Tom had just about dozed off when a buzz sounded from the front hall. He sat up, blinking fuzzily as his brain tried to place the noise and its meaning. The front gate. Right. He pushed himself to his feet, placing the now empty mug on the edge of the table, and stumbled towards the hall and the gate security panel. He pressed the button which cued up the camera and blinked for several seconds as his brain attempted to process just why Sadie was standing at his front gate. Shouldn’t she be on a train to Edinburgh?

Knowing none of his questions could possibly be answered by simply standing there like a dolt, he pressed the intercom button and waved her in. A few moments later her hesitant knock came on his front door. Tom pulled it open quickly and found her shuffling from foot to foot, a lost look in her eyes. “Sadie, darling, are you alright?”

She took a deep breath and shook her head. “Can…Can I come in?”

“Of course,” he assured her. “Of course you can.” He stepped quickly aside and allowed her to slip quietly past him and into the hall. “Would you like a cup of tea? Coffee? I’ve hot chocolate if you’d rather?”

She flashed him a small smile which didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Tea would be lovely.”

He ushered her into the living room before darting into the kitchen and setting the kettle to boil. He pulled a tin of Earl Grey and a mug from the cabinet and placed them both on the counter near the kettle. Once the kettle boiled, he set to brewing the tea. He padded towards the fridge, pulling out a carton of milk and adding a splash to the steaming amber liquid. He carried the mug back into the living room and offered it to her without a word.

Sadie took it with a soft murmur of thanks and held in between her hands. She’d settled on the couch, shoes on the floor and her legs curled beneath her. He settled himself into the arm chair opposite.

After several minutes of silence, Tom leant forward resting his elbows on his knees. “What’s happened?”

Sadie took a deep breath, her fingers curled around the mug. “I’m sorry for just showing up here…I just…I was walking and I looked up and I was here…I know you’ve probably got things you need to be doing. I’m sorry…” She pushed herself to her feet and placed the undrunk tea onto the table. “I should leave you be.”

“Don’t,” Tom started, jumping to his feet. “Please, somethings obviously wrong. Sadie, you are my friend. You came to me. Please let me help if I can.”

She nodded and sat back down on the couch, wrapping her arms around her middle. It was several minutes before she spoke again. “He left.”

Tom blinked in confusion. “Who left? Andy? You mean he left for Edinburgh without you? Why?”

Sadie shook her head. “No…Well yes, he did leave for Edinburgh. But no, he’s left me. He was gone when I got back to the flat this evening. I called, thinking maybe I’d gotten the times wrong. And he…” She paused and took a deep breath before carrying on, her voice cracking slightly as she did so. “He said he can’t do this anymore…That he’s been thinking about it for a while now. Told me he’s not ready for this kind of commitment; that he hadn’t been sure when he proposed but went on with it anyway…He said he was so sorry but he couldn’t keep going on with this, with us. God, Tom, he just…Four fucking years and he just…”

“Oh Sadie.”

She blinked up at him with glassy eyes. “All I wanted was a happy ending. Was that too much to ask for?”

He took Sadie’s cold hands into his own, rubbing them; hoping to infuse some of his warmth into her. She offered him a tremulous smile and he felt his heart break at the sight. “I’ve got you,” he whispered, squeezing her hands gently. It wasn’t all he’d wanted to say. Not even close. But he couldn’t see any way of saying what he wanted desperately to say that wouldn’t frighten or overwhelm her. And scaring her was the absolute last thing he wanted to do.

“I just…Why wasn’t I enough?” The words were whispered, clearly not intended for his ears. But he heard them all the same.

Tom wasn’t a violent person by nature but Christ, he wanted nothing more than to rip the asshole who’d broken her heart to shreds. To tear him limb from limb for the audacity to be so careless with such a wonderful, loving heart. To string Sadie along, make her promises, build a life with her, and then rip all away because he ‘wasn’t ready’.

The rational part of his brain knew it was better that Andy had ended it before he and Sadie actually married. That even though Sadie was hurt (and it was so clear that she was blindsided by this), she would recover from this much easier than if she’d actually tied their lives together in the legally binding sense. But rational was far from Tom’s state of mind at the moment. He fought to keep his hands from shaking as they held onto hers.

“You are enough,” he heard himself growl. He felt Sadie’s hands tense in his and he cursed his emotional response. God, she didn’t need this now. Tom cleared his throat, hoping to calm himself enough to speak rationally. To express himself in a way that wouldn’t scare her. “Sadie,” he started again, his voice even, “you are enough. And if he can’t see that then it’s his loss. If he can’t look at you and know for certain that you are what he wants then it’s no one’s fault but his own.”

She blinked up at him. “Tom, I…”

Tom smiled softly at her as he brought her hands to his lips, kissing them gently before releasing them. He took a deep breath. “You might not feel it right now. But Sadie, to me you are enough. You’ve always been. You are smart and you are capable. You are brilliant and funny and warm. You are so many wonderful, amazing things.” He clasped his hands before him in his lap and smiled warmly at her. “You’ve become such an important part of my life. So much more than I will ever be able to say. And I know this is too soon and probably too much, and I probably shouldn’t be saying this at all but I want you to know…I want you to understand, that you are someone’s first choice. You are my first choice, hands down. Every. Single. Time.” She opened her mouth to speak and he held up a hand to silence her. “Wait, please.”

Confusion shone in her bright eyes as she stared at him in silence. After several moments she nodded silently.

“I want to know that you, just as you are, are enough.” He smiled softly at her before rushing on. “You are more than enough. And I don’t say this to force you into returning my feelings or to pressure you into something I know you are in no way ready for. I say this because I want you to know that no matter what you choose, you have me in your corner. I will love you as a friend or as more. That choice is yours and you have all the time in the world to decide what it is you want. Sadie, you have become one of my dearest friends. I value your opinion and your candor above all others. You are my friend and if that is all you need of me then I will gladly accept it. That would be enough for me.”

Tom watched the emotional swirl across her face. Confusion, uncertainty, disbelief, and just a fraction of hope. He took another slow breath and waited, knowing that whatever happened next, good or ill, he would bear and gladly if it meant she could have a moment’s peace. That would be enough.

[wolfpawn]

Once Bitten, Twice Shy Chapter 8

Previous Chapter

Chapter Summary -  Paige and Tom, against their better judgement, decide to go ahead with the fake relationship, so they start with one of Paige's family Sunday dinners, where Tom learns a bit more about the woman.

Tag, @wolfsmom1 @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @nonsensicalobsessions @damalseer   @standing-onthe-edge

anyone else who wishes to be added to the tags, just ask :)

Tom felt slightly wary of the man sitting across from him, smirking into the back of his hand. Neither he nor Paige were entirely sure why they agreed to this, but they had, and that meant pulling out all the stops, starting with dinner on a Sunday with her parents.

Her mother, he realised, was a lot like his own but she was a tad more eccentric. She was elated that they had thought to bring him to dinner whilst Paige spent the entire journey to her parents’ home apologising for how her mother was about to act. Tom was relieved to see it was not as bad as Paige had led him to believe. In fact, her parents were very much pleasant and jovial people. Her father, he likened a lot to his own, a man who did not let his own less affluent childhood affect his ability to make his way in the world and who very much educated himself via avid reading. The discussion he had with the man regarding Harold Pinter and his work was very much pleasant and insightful.

Her brother had been delayed on his arrival, so they did not get to speak to him before the meal was on the table. But Paige had informed him that she had told her brother of what was happening and told Tom that he would literally laugh for the most of the meal at the ridiculousness of it all. Her warning had been accurate. Mark did seem to find the entire thing utterly hilarious and to her credit, Fiona sat beside him trying to get him to stop.

“Mum, please, stop.” Paige pleaded as her mother discussed some menial matter of little importance. “Forget not boring Tom, don’t bore all of us.”

Her father chuckled at his daughter’s statement. “Paige, be nice to your mother.” His wife gave him a grateful look. “She can’t help it if she is bothered by useless information.”

Paige, Mark and Fiona erupted in laughter as Violet looked at her husband in annoyance. “Thank you, Martin.”

“Anytime, my Dear Wife.” He winked with a grin.

Tom looked to Paige who, like her brother and his fiancée were laughing. He realised this was entirely normal for the family to just joke in such a manner. He chuckled and embraced it, envious of the way the family clearly were close with both parents. It was something he always felt was missing in his home. His parents respected one another, never speaking ill of one another in front of their children and they loved their significant others, but they were not together. Violet and Martin clearly had a loving and pleasant relationship even after almost forty years of marriage. When Paige looked back at him, she simply rolled her eyes and smiled brightly at him.

The dinner was followed by tea and talking. Violet and Martin getting all of their children’s news from the past week, asking for further information on the different things they had informed their parents about through the week and discussing anything that could be construed as an issue in their lives, anyone with any idea of how to assist was given a chance to talk. He realised then why Paige had been so calm and respectful to her ex’s side piece, she was from a home the likes of which he thought not to actually exist. What he also noted was how Fiona was just as much part of the conversation as her partner or his sister.

Paige explained that Mark had met Fiona in college. He was friends with her for over a year before they drunkenly kissed one night. After a small awkward time of avoiding one another, they were forced into a situation where they had to talk about what happened and realised they liked each other more than they thought and had been together since. Thirteen years together and they would be getting married that summer. Paige was Fiona's bridesmaid and everything as they had become close over the years.

“I'm not sure.” Martin conceded. “What do you think, Thomas?”

Tom felt himself come up short. “I'm afraid I have never had the honour myself. I have played groomsman a few times and truthfully, renting seems the most done thing.” He stated. “I use suits all the time and if I'm honest, I would never use a suit like that outside of a wedding setting and at the cost of such things, it seems mad to pay that.”

“I agree, a damn waste of money,” Martin growled. “We did ours for almost nothing and though it was hardly a large affair, we had everyone fed, dressed and looked after for the cost of the damn flowers these days.”

“We should go to Mrs Evan’s and pick some of her flowers while she’s on holidays.” Paige joked.

“I dare you, and if you do, I want to be there to record it because she will probably murder you if you look sideways at them.” Mark laughed.

“You don’t record me doing that, are you mad? That’s evidence.”

“Paige,” Her mother tried to chastise her, but she was too busy laughing at her children’ interactions, elated that after their entire childhood and half of their teenage years, the siblings had stopped fighting practically day and night and had instead become incredibly close. “What must Tom think?”

“I think Tom is thinking of the SAS training he did for The Night Manager and is probably contemplating if he’d make the door if he dropped and rolled at this stage.” Paige shrugged.

Mark scoffed before looking at Tom who seemed not entirely startled she would say such a thing. “There’s very little you could do to convince me to deal with one such as my sister, you’re either incredibly brave or incredibly desperate. I haven’t decided yet.”

“We’re not bloody Targaryns or Lannisters, you never have to deal with me on such a level so you never have to concern yourself with such. Maybe I am just like this with you because you’re my brother and I am nicer to the people I am not forced to be around.” She smirked and stuck out her tongue.

“The door’s there, off with you.” Mark pointed to the side.

“That’s the window, you idiot,” Martin growled causing Fiona and Paige to snort in laughter. “Didn't we spend a fortune educating you? Good to see that there’s truth to the saying ‘educated beyond your intelligence’, Fiona, you’re too good for him. Run, we won’t blame you.”

“I’ve been telling her that for years.” Paige piped up.

“Will you two ever stop picking on me?”

“You’re the first to join in with your father against Paige.” Their mother pointed out.

“That’s different,” Mark contested.

“How is that different?” Paige asked curiously.

“Because it’s you.”

*

Paige sighed as they got back into the car after the afternoon with her family. “Be honest, you’re regretting this agreement, aren’t you?” She looked at Tom as he indicated at a set of traffic lights, waiting for them to go green.

“Yes,” Tom confessed. “I am.” Paige looked at him, slightly startled he confessed such so easily. “I am so jealous.”

“Jealous?”

“Of your family.” Paige eyed him with uncertainty. “No really. You are so close. Seeing your parents interact as they do, the way they interact with you and your brother, his fiancée, I am incredibly envious.”

“We’re not perfect.”

“No one is.”

“My family had its rough times too. Mum and Dad went through some very rough patches, Dad even went to live elsewhere for a few months, but thankfully, they were able to work through it. I was six at the time. Then, when I was fourteen, they went through a terrible patch when my Dad stopped working so much and things got awkward at home but I later realised why. I thought Mum was mad that he was under her feet or that she was fretting money, but I find out one day when I came back from school because I was in boarding, to my Dad sick, bald and drinking this weird drink and stuff. The side of the drink carton and the drip site on his arm told me what my Dad didn’t want to. He had found a lump...he and Mum said nothing to us and thought they could hide it because we were at school and the doctors gave him a good chance. The whole family put on a brave face for that, but after he got the ‘all-clear’ Mark and I were pissed off like you wouldn’t believe.”

“They didn’t want to worry you both.”

“But they lied. Dad went for the surgery and no one told us. We could have lost him on the table but Mark was studying for A-levels and me for my GCSE’s so they said nothing. Mark and I used to fight so much, really, like two dogs for a bone. We really didn’t see eye-to-eye, but when Dad was sick, we pulled together. We then realised we were similar and that we actually enjoyed one another’s humour and whatnot. Dad became far more sarcastic and such to deal with his stress and Mark and I embraced it too.”

“Well, as terrible a time as it was for your family, I am glad you grew together because of it,” Tom stated, uncertain if he had said the right words.

“We’re incredibly close now, hence the Sunday dinners. We used to avoid one another. Now, no matter what, I can call on Mark and when he needs anything, he can call me.”

*

“It’s sold out, the first three months are completely sold out. They are talking about doing extra shows.” Christian informed Tom.

“What, that’s incredible.” Tom could not believe what he was hearing. He knew the play would be popular. He wasn’t stupid, he knew why the director wanted him, but seemingly, Paige was adding to it too.

“As for Ms Winters, she is most certainly seeing a notable spike too,” Luke informed him. “All of her books took places in the higher end of sales for the week and the movie is seeing more sales now that its initial DVD release.”

“But we didn’t even know each other like that, then.”

“There’s a picture with both of you in it from the Cumberbatch wedding, leaving the church at the same time, people are likening your situation to theirs, knowing each other for years before anything.”

“It feels wrong, deceitful,” Tom commented.

“These things are surprisingly common,” Luke stated.

“She is too nice a person to drag around like this. She keeps her life private and I end up throwing her in front of the world. They are even dragging up her failed relationship. I mean, that’s tasteless.”

“She agreed to this just like you did.” Christian pointed out.

Though that was a valid statement, it still felt wrong to Tom. Thinking over the trip to her family home, getting to see her interacting with her family, hearing the trials and tribulations they had been through to make them be so close, it felt wrong being deceitful, to begin with, but with the added layers of their families, it felt even more so. He decided he would discuss the matter with her. She would be at the play in a few days, he hoped she would not be too bothered by it all.

“What we need to concern ourselves with next is her radio interview. Oscar assures me she is an adept hand in such things, eloquent and well versed in whatever she has to speak about, apparently, she has prepared for this, so we can only hope she is as well-spoken as she usually is. I have checked some of her previous interviews, she should do well.” Luke explained.

Thinking of Luke sitting at his computer with a pen in hand to ensure that Paige spoke in a particular manner made Tom once more question why they agreed to this.

[aggresivelyfriendly]

~Meet Me In The Hallway~

Chapter 38-Rough Landing

I have to thank @nocontrolforlouis for helping me through some tense situations! You are the best.

To my other 10 readers-especially the ones wo are as invested as me, Thank you ever so! 

Milo took one look at my broken doll visage and his face, that face that all brides dream of, awe mixed with love and bits of tears, crumbled. His gaze shifted behind me to where I knew his mum was sitting, and he put a hand up like a school crossing guard. The music stopped and I felt like the tilt-a-wheel inside my gut slowed to a breathable pace.

"Melody?" Milo whispered and reached with his stop hand to grasp my trembling palm around my bouquet.

I still had no words. How were there so many jumbled in my head and none seemed to exit my god-forsaken mouth when I needed them to?  I shook my head. A keen, cousin to a sob, escaped my mouth. Milo looked bewildered for just a moment before his face changed into droopy eyes and downturned lips and then settled into grim determination. With my downcast eyes I could see my mum holding my dad back. He wanted to rescue me, his little girl. He shouldn't have, I'd done this. I'd been rescued too many times and had turned from damsel into villain for it.

Peripherally, I caught that Milo was whispering to the officiant.

I looked up at his face again finally when I felt him turn and tugged more than saw it. He led me off to the side and I could hear the man in the suit who was supposed to be in charge talking to the congregants. People had come from far and wider away to see me break a heart. To watch me break my own, again.

Milo led me to the small rooms off to the side of the chapel and once again I was looking at a man's feet while we decided our fate. No, that wouldn't do. My problem, I'd come to realize and ignore, was that I didn't face things. Literally, I turned tail and ran. And I didn't talk, I most certainly didn't communicate. I lifted my face to him and Milo looked kind, but broken, like a much older man.

"Milo—" I started, but didn't know where to go from there.

"Melody....I know." He tried to let me off the hook. If I had a talent, it seems it is for picking excellent men, who were exceedingly kind and understanding of me. I should have started a service, where I pick the best men for other more deserving women. I would have made a mint. It was a talent and a curse; It seemed to have let me get away with entirely too much. I had to say this.

"No, no, don't, don't give me any breaks!" I yelled, at myself. Then caught that my volume was directed in his innocent direction.  "Sorry! I can't, I can't marry you!  I should, you are everything a woman could ever want. But, but, I'm not for you. I thought I was, when I said yes. But, but, I've been trying to figure out what I wanted since then. Or how to tell you." I ran out of breath when I looked at his perfect face. "I don't, I don't know how I let it get this far!"

"No, no, Corazon." That cut. "I know, I've fucking known for months. I think I knew when you didn't want to wear the ring at first. It seems likes most brides-to-be can't wait to show off their ring. But, I think you maybe would still not be wearing it if you could, no?" He pulled my hand up then and caught the peace ring right next to his offering. He fingered it. "And when you told me you found you had feelings for your ex, I should have listened to what you were really saying, not what I wanted to hear. This his?" He looked down, and I took his other hand.

I nodded. The ring was Harry's, as I was too. Though I had no pretensions that he was still mine. I breathed, I could only solve one riddle at a time. I had to face this flaming bridge before I could move onto trying to rebuild my other ruins. Milo deserved my full attention while I runaway-brided him.

"I'm so sorry! I love you and you are a better man than anyone I've ever known. Harry..." That name hurt to say out loud. I hadn't since the day he left my parents house. "Included." I forced it out. "But the truth is, he and I aren't finished. Well I'm not finished, and as much as I want to give you my heart and my hand, I don't seem to have them to give. I thought I could, when we met. I really did. And I'm a fool, I know I am, for not choosing you. I've been trying to." I wanted to shrug, but the gesture was to relaxed for the situation. Though, for a break up, the only one I'd ever had in real time, it was going well, especially considering our attire and the venue.

"Melody!" He sighed. "You don't see yourself, Corazon. A little in your head, too much I think." He pressed two fingers to my temple. "Hard on yourself. But smarter than you should be, beautiful and thoughtful. Even half way in, you are a good partner." He swallowed then, "Were. And I think we are both fools. For letting it get this far. I'm sure that I will be angry with you soon, but right now I just feel sorry."

I sighed too, "You have every right. When you are ready, to yell at me, let me know. I'll come to take my lumps." I gave him a watery smile. I felt better than I had in months despite everything, like the two ton weight on my back was lifted and even the prospect of walking out to the assembled eyes didn't daunt me as it should.

"Mama told me, you know." He chucked my chin.

"What?" I was confused by his non-sequitur, I thought we were planning my tar and feathering.

"She told me, when you came to visit." He took my hand and brought me over to sit near him on a hard wooden bench. It was lucky my dress wasn't a ball gown, or we wouldn't have fit. I sat beside him and it was the closest I'd felt to him in months. It was the most honest I'd ever been.

"Mama looked at you and said you were beautiful and lovely, but that you were taken. She told me again, called me after your dress appointment. Told me you were mourning another wedding instead of planning ours." He sighed again. "I should have listened to her, but I just wanted you." There was an edge in his voice then. A bit of the tidal wave of hurt to come. "She always knows. When do you think we learn to just trust what our mothers say?"

I laughed out loud and the release of emotion was the trickle before a dam break. And Milo smiled at me. "That sounds like a story, Melly! Want to share?"

"My mum, when Harry and I had it out, she told me to go after him, that I'd be a fool to not go after him. I asked her about you. She said you deserved a wife in love with you." At that my voice broke with the levee and the tears came like a deluge. "I'm a fool who should have listened to my mother."

Milo wiped his own tears, then handed me his pocket square for mine. "A right pair we should have made." His smile is grim and I'm sorry.

"I do love you, ya know." I clutched his hand and thought about how the fit was lovely, of his warm strong palm against my smaller one, but how my long fingers slipped through his too easily. There was not a mesmerizing tangle like I remembered. It was perfect, just not.

"Yeah, but not like you love him." It wasn't a question.

"I don't think I could love anyone like that. Honestly," My voice broke a little. "'Most times I don't want to love him like I do. It's ...." I gestured with big wide hands because I didn't know how to convey it in words.

Milo nodded then looked at me. "We should probably go tell these people that there is not wedding but still a party, no? We can have a last dance instead of a first?" He was sad and I was too, and I'd have to ask him later how he came to be so very gracious. I would be stomping and angry about something, including the expense. But, right then, I decided to just be thankful. I was sure that there would be consequences later, maybe even great ones, but I was alright living the next few hours like that was a wake not a funeral.

We walked out and the crowd was restless. Milo's frenemies from work nudged each other and that was another thing that I was sorry for. His mama looked knowing, so did Kara, and inexplicably, my parents looked proud.

We held hands as we came to the front of the aisle and my soon to be ex held them aloft. "Melody and I have decided that we aren't here to get married today. That we are not meant to be husband and wife, but she will always be my heart," he looked at me then and we shared an aquatic smile.

"And Milo, my darling. Our love story ends today instead of begins." He squeezed my hand and sniffed. Then looked forward.

"However, we have already paid for an amazing party." I thought how happy I was I changed the band back to Milo's favorite for a surprise at that moment. "And we want you to enjoy our hospitality!" He made a magnanimous gesture like Lumiere in The Beauty and The Beast production we once saw and I giggled at him.

One day, I hoped we can be great friends. If Harry is ok with it. If he is in a position to care. Normally, I would think certainly, but he was jealous of Milo in a surprising way. And I was making plans sure to break my heart right along the middle seam.

The processional played, and Milo threw an affectionate and completely needed arm over my shoulder. I pulled him into an alcove and hugged him with all my might when we made it out of the fray. "Thank you! I can't thank you enough, love. I'm Not sure you are even real."

He shook his tear stained head at me. "I'm not, I'm a mirage I guess, and I need to get to where we are going soon.

"And I need to change." I pointed at the bridal room and he nodded with a brave smile as I slipped away. I spied Maria Luisa coming up and I was happy he wouldn't be alone. I caught Milo's expression dropping as his mama laid a hand on his back.

The penalties of this heartbreak were on parole right now, but if I learned nothing, that would be my greatest crime. I needed to get better, I've gotta get better at least.

Once I'd given myself a look in the freestanding glass, I realized that I couldn't undress myself and flailed my arms a moment. I went to pull out my phone and texted Kara to come help me- The screen was still black, no little green emblem from Harry to stop me from going full speed into a wall.

Still, better, I had found my own red light at the end of the altar, and that felt right, but the absence of his contact -H with a string of emojis, kiwi included-made me sad.

But I had a wake to throw. There was no time to fall apart. I'd been eroding for months, and it was time to plant something in me to stop the weathering.

The knock on the door I assumed was Kara.

"Come in!" I called and recognized my own voice for the first time that day.

I was surprised to see my mother.

"I thought you could use a hand." She explained and made her way behind me. Her eyes were a little wet as she took in my appearance. I was still flawless from the neck down, but my eyes were a little wet and my lipstick had come off between my teeth. It was better.

"Thanks, mum. I wasn't sure how to get out of this thing myself. But it seems a bit much for a party."

"I'm proud of you." She barked suddenly with the zipper mid-way down my back.

"You're proud of me for breaking up my wedding?" I knew she wasn't on board with the marriage, her silence had made that clear, very clear, but I couldn't see how me letting myself get all the way down the aisle was a point of parental pride.

"You're proud of me?" My brow was really trying to live up to Kara's example, but instead my sizable forehead was full of wrinkles.

"Did you know that I was married before?" She was avoiding my eyes entirely. And no, no! I didn't know that.

"You were?" I was flabbergasted.

"Yeah, did you ever wonder why we didn't see much of my parents?"

"Not really, I guess it was just the way that it was."

She nodded as she helped me take off the dress itself. It was a lighter fabric than others, part of why I favored it, but it was still a relief to have it off.

"They didn't like your father.They really pressured me to marry Jacob, my first husband. His family was moneyed and a good contact for my dad's business."

I thought about it and realized that my grandparents did have a large house near the beach and that when I was little I wished we lived there. I did vaguely remember my mum snapping at me when I threw a fit about leaving one time.

"But, I had met your dad, not long into the engagement, and I knew that he was the man for me, but I, um, I did what I thought I was supposed to." She was unlacing the corset the dress required and not looking at me. She sounded so guilty.

"Did you break Jacob's heart?" I asked, thinking about the way Milo's face crumpled when his mama came to him and he could let his mask slip.

"Oh no. He was a bit of an ass. Well, more than a bit. But I did find myself cheating." At this she bit her lip and looked at me in the mirror. "I'm not proud of it, but I was young and unhappy. And your dad..." She flapped her hands at my sides. "Well, it scared me how much I loved him."

I knew a bit about that.

"We, we, um, we got caught. And, well, strangely, it was such a relief. My parents didn't speak to me for years and my whole life changed. Learning about limited resources caused lots of fights, as did moving right in with your father since I was homeless, but I just paid him in sex and he got distracted!"

"Mum!" I yelped.

"Melody, come now, Harry stayed at the house." She eyed me meaningfully and I knew the skin she had uncovered was bright red. It seemed unfair that she was baring herself, but not only was I getting naked, she was stripping me too. "I could tell how it was. And I remember, well not so much remember, as still know."

I wanted to be disgusted, but I was so much more surprised, my mum and dad certainly respected each other but seemed very contained for the passionate affair she was hinting at. So I just nodded for her to continue.

"In any case, when you brought Milo home, at first I tried to be supportive, but I could tell your heart wasn't in it when you came to pick a dress, and then when Harry came for you..." She sighed and turned to hand me a white dress. "Melody, can I ask? Why didn't you go after that boy that day? He wanted you to."

"I, I, Mum, I don't think, I don't think I deserve him." Tears pricked at my eyelids. "I'm not sure what's wrong with me. But, I used to write for hours about my feelings, but I can't, I can't seem to say them or connect to them. Follow them, not anymore. I wanted to go to him too. But I just couldn't. That's why I can't have him, not until I can tell him I want him, or how I love him, at the least."

"Did you ever think you should write them instead, your feelings?" She zipped up my white reception dress and it was so much more comfortable and I knew that Harry would love it so, and I wanted to take a picture to send him. Caption it my unreception dress, but, if he wasn't answering my texts, for who knows what reason, long flight, meetings, hate, what good would it do. I just wanted to tell him didn't marry another man. I realized my mom was looking at me expectantly in the mirror with her hands on my shoulders while I towered over her with my height and heels, but she was still my mommy and I her overgrown baby.

It was comforting while I demo-ed my life in my quest to forge a new one, a better one where I wasn't  making decisions because I was scared, that some things, like mum, were solid. And healthy, she was still healthy. I put my hand on top of hers. "I'm sorry Mum, lost the plot there. I'm a bit all over the place. What?"

"You could write them instead? S'what I said. If you can't say them out loud. Truth is, I used to sneak in to read your diary. Not to check on you, mind, but to see where your head was at. You got really quiet when you were about 10 years old, not that you were ever a terribly chatty thing. I rather enjoyed it, most of the time. But I wanted to knock that Jack's block off. It helped, right?"

"Yeah, but I haven't been able to put pen to paper in..." I thought about it and wanted to cry for a bloody new reason. "Well for years, mum! Lord, that's so sad." And I did cry a little bit for it, though there were lots of things to cry about on my wedding day, and misplaced dreams seemed last in line. And yet, the tears sprang anew for the fault line I recognized in me. I ran from the things I wanted most - Harry, writing, the self I wanted to be.

"Well," my mother turned me to herself. "I have a gift for you in that case." She wiped under my eyes and I handed her the handkerchief Milo had given me. She looked at the monogram and smiled. "Think you can be friends with him? He really is the best of us." I think she meant humanity, but certainly between he and I.

I nodded just before mum looked down to the small purse she was once again carrying. It fit the occasion, but it brought a small smile to my face through the wet feelings, that she still couldn't find anything even in its tiny confines. She a-ha'd a moment later and drew out a trifold of papers.

"Before we did everything on the internet these sorts of things looked so much more impressive." She gave a good natured complaint and handed the papers to me. I opened it and gasped. "When it was actually tickets. I think we can cash in Milo's. Your dad and I had a feeling, a hope really, that you'd pull your head out of your arse, we got insurance."

"Mum!" I breathed, "it's too much!" I saw as I looked over the travel package. Weeks in Jamaica. Jamaica had Harry's name on it too. Even said I would love it.

"Nonsense! You know your dad had an account for your wedding. This came out of that. I think he's offering Milo the rest. Not sure he'll accept it, maybe not today. But, if he doesn't get a bride, maybe we can help with the financial loss." She shrugged and waited until I looked up at her. "I'm assuming if you get married again, the bloke will be able to cover it."

"Mum," I heard what she wasn't saying and I shook my head at the idea. Harry didn't respond to me. He may never again. "I don't think, I'm not sure that can ever happen again."

"Melody, you can have forgiveness, but you have to ask for it. And if you want more, you need to fight for it! I love you girl, but I'm not sure when all the fight went out of you. Go to Jamaica, on your un-honeymoon and get your feet under you, write, then find a way back to Harry. You both deserve it."

I didn't agree, but I felt like we had run out of time to argue. Also, I was learning maybe I should listen to my mother.  I needed to go to my un-reception. Needed to check on Milo, see if he was ready to stop playing nice. But I needed something else too. "Mum, will you take a picture of me?"

"Whatever for?" She took the phone I handed her.

"Dunno really, but, I feel like I thought this would end the world, if I disappointed everybody, but...." I looked to my beautiful blue suede wedding shoes. "I'm still breathing and I feel," I grasped at air. "I feel strong. I want to remember."

Mum smiled and looked oddly proud again, her brow smooth and clear. She sat her things down and I was glad that iPhones still made a click, Like a punctuation mark on the action.

With my odd impulse satisfied, we made our way to the reception and though I thought this entire thing, not getting married, would be like climbing a mountain, instead it felt more like the downhill you'd earned after you've created the peak of a hike. It was all a pleasant surprise, and though I saw a few asides and snickers from guests, everybody seemed to have a nice time.

Milo especially, he smiled and danced with his mama and friends and even me though he did give me a wider berth than ever in our acquaintance. I had a good time too, and again I was surprised. I expected to be lashed to the bow and keel hauled for this, but instead, I danced on the deck with the crew Milo and I assembled when we pretended our journey would be life-long.

Milo and I shared our first/last dance spending our turns around the floor talking while Frankie sang about the way we looked. And it was special, we would never be that lovely again. To each other l'm sure, and I hoped to never look so superficially flawless again based on recent self-discoveries. I wanted a mess. Milo would always be flawless and I knew I'd always be grateful for him.

"What would you tell yourself if you met me for the first time all over again?" I asked with his comforting palms against my waist. "Run?" I tried to joke.

He shook his head with a little chiding frown. "No, not today, maybe tomorrow?" he half joked. "I would tell myself, 'She will be a great love for you, but not your only. Do it anyway.'" His eyes were wet and sincere. "And you, what would you tell yourself?"

I was thankful for eyelash extensions and setting spray myself. It was a brave response, and I wanted to be as honest as him. I want to be honest. "I'd tell her, the girl I was, that she will be lucky to have you, but that she should be honest and learn to say no."

He looked at the ground and his jaw clenched a bit. "I might tell myself to take no for an answer, I never was good at that, especially with you."

"Right pair we are!" I chorused and leaned my forehead against his. "You run towards no, and I run from yes." And a tear slipped down my cheek and onto his lips.

"Right pair we were." He emphasized the last word and it hurt, but felt like relief, like pulling a splinter from under the skin. "Maybe I will learn to hear no, and you will learn to trust yes?"

"I hope so. I hope you find a real yes. I hope I can hear yes one day and not doubt it."

Then his facade cracked a little, because the tinge of his voice was red, "honestly, I probably won't ever trust a yes again. And I really hope you learn to say what you mean. And not just for whoever gets you, but for you too."

He stopped talking to me then and didn't speak to me for the rest of the dance. And he held me a little farther away for the last few bars. But that was okay. The dance and the night ended and I kept waiting for the cymbal crash or the death rattle, but it didn't come.

I went to Kara's hotel after Milo and I agreed on a time he would be out of our apartment for me to move my things. He was finally angry by then, and told me it would be best if he didn't see me when I did it.

I cried on Kara's shoulder in the same bedding she had at our place and told her about what I was doing while she was being maid of dishonor extraordinaire and putting out my fires at the reception.

She was excited for me and Jamaica.  "I demand you send me every word you write!"

"They may be dreck!" I admitted.

"As long as they are honest." She is quiet for a moment, but I wait for the question on the air. "Are you gonna call him?"

"Only when I'm honest." I decided out loud.

"I'll hold you to that." She promised and pulled me to her in the bed we had spooned ourselves together in.

"Please do."

Days later on the plane, when I was looking through the pictures on my phone, I found the one that seemed all important for my mum to take and I understood why. The girl there looked a little younger, a little messier than the one in the earlier pictures, not perfect.

But true.

[socialattractionuk]

My cats have taught me more about true love than any man

Love, Or Something Like It

In Love, Or Something Like It, our new Metro.co.uk series, we’re on a quest to find true love.

Covering everything from mating, dating and procreating to lust and loss, we’ll be looking at what love is and how to find it in the present day.

It didn’t take long for the first man on the dating site to tell me that I was a ‘crazy cat lady’.

He said it one night over the phone as I enthused about my newly adopted cats, Caspar and Winter. It took me by surprise. I suddenly felt like an object of pity who adopted two cats because I couldn’t get a man.

Not only was it unfair – you never hear about ‘crazy cat guys’ –  it was untrue. I was not single because I was undesirable.

I had been with my previous partner for six years. It was a devastating blow to find myself single as I approached 40, fearing a future alone as I got older and with all my friends settled down.

The ‘crazy cat lady’ label took me by surprise (Picture: Erica Crompton)

You learn a lot about loneliness after a break-up. As the days dragged on sleeping by myself, dining for one each night and with no-one to talk to or meet, the loneliness started to creep up on me.

I started to weigh up my options. I’d considered getting a pet for a long time – the whiter and fluffier the better. So one evening, with little else to do, I found myself logging onto the Cats Protection site.

I saw hundreds of cute kittens and cats. It was a pair of brothers who struck a chord with me though, two tabbies – Caspar and Winter. A few phone calls and a location check later and I was in an Uber to pick them up from foster care. Within days they had made themselves at home.

The cats were not just good company. The responsibility of keeping them fed, watered, warm and entertained gave me the focus and distraction that I needed to put distance between myself and my break up.

They also taught me just how far a little TLC can go. My cats had a hard start life having been abandoned outside by their previous owners. Winter was so timid and nervous when I picked him up but just three days later he was displaying his bits in front of the fire and fighting with Caspar.

My cats had a hard start life having been abandoned outside (Picture: Erica Crompton)

What I didn’t expect was that I’d find the confidence to look for love again. After my ex had left, I felt so unlovable. My self-esteem was in my boots, while my ex-partner was out socialising with younger women. I felt old and invisible by comparison.

Simply receiving cuddles from Caspar and Winter made me feel worthy of love once again. In the ‘cat-mum’ role I’m judged beyond my capacity to party, or dissect politics, or for my youth or looks. Not once have I been criticised for a comment or an outfit.

I’m a provider, I give my cats a roof under which they can live, play and explore. They’ve helped me to feel important again, and not just a number on the wrong side of 30.

With my new-found confidence I logged back onto dating sites. I was called a crazy cat lady more than once and it’s a stereotype that can hold women back when it comes to finding love. One man’s Tinder profile specifically stated ‘no Crazy Cat ladies’ so to some we’re seen as women to avoid, which was why it was so important that I reclaimed this label.

If I can find two loving cats to live with online, I’m sure a nice guy and a loving relationship will naturally follow suit.

At the time of reading, I will have had my first date with David, a musically-inclined farmer with a big ginger beard. We bonded over our interest in animals. His profile picture showed him holding a calf and it spurred me on to set up drinks at my local.

My cats give me unconditional love and in return they get all their needs met (Picture: Erica Crompton)

I still very much feel that having my two cats come into my home and care was meant to be. A blessing. Fate. I feel more complete and more of a ‘unit’ – we’re like a mini family. They give me the same kind of feeling of ‘oneness’ that I’ve had in past relationships.

It was their regular, reliable and stable affection that helped me move on from my break up. My cats give me unconditional love and in return they get all their needs met (plus a little catnip).

They have taught me that true love is about just being there, at all times, and not just the best or stable times. That a hug after a bad day goes a long way.

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They have given me the reassurance that everything is going to work out. Past relationships may not have been right but that doesn’t make me an unworthy candidate for romance and affection.

Caspar and Winter were, like me, abandoned through no fault of their own, and like them, I too deserve love.

Last week in Love, Or Something Like It: For non-binary people like me, true love means loving myself first

Write for Love, Or Something Like It

Love, Or Something Like It is a brand new series for Metro.co.uk, published every Saturday. If you have a love story to share, email rosy.edwards@metro.co.uk

MORE: What 15k Tinder matches has taught me about true love

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[suzie81blog]

My napkins on each place setting

After a lovely weekend it’s back down to earth – The Bloke is now back at work for a while before we go on the honeymoon and I have returned to the the online world. It’s been more strange than I expected in the fact that it hasn’t been strange at all – I was told by numerous people that I would feel different, but I don’t at all, apart from the fact that I greet him with ‘hello, husband!’ every time he walks through the door…

The wedding was lovely. I was told to expect something to go wrong, but absolutely nothing did – our duty manager for the day, Derek, kept things running like clockwork (he’s ex-military so that helped) and everyone seemed to have a great time.

The wedding was held at Highbury Hall, a Grade II listed mansion in Moseley and former Birmingham residence of Joseph Chamberlain (British statesman and father of PM Neville Chamberlain). The whole event took place there – we had the civil ceremony with the registrars in one room and then the wedding breakfast in the main hall. We did the decor ourselves – collecting tons of glass jars and creating floral displays and centrepieces, and we added in little touches with a mini photo booth, the biggest Instagram frame ever and a full dessert table complete with a cupcake tower (that my friend Gemma made for us as a wedding present), baklava (that my friend Marika made) and a whole selection of sweets in different sized jars. I had also made seating cards using keys and using faux-calligraphy to write everyone’s names. It was simple and looked beautiful.

The Bloke and I spent the day before setting up at the venue and we were joined by my mum, middle sister and her partner, who suddenly discovered a talent for flower arranging. It got competitive, reaching its peak as I was busy putting the napkins with flowers out, and at one point I heard some yelling about how fluffy one set of Baby’s Breath (Gypsophila) was compared to the other. Once we finished we went home to finalise a few last-minute things, and then spent the night at home together.

On the morning of the wedding I had my hair done, did my make-up and then The Bloke and I drove to the venue, where I went upstairs to the main bedroom that was set up for the bridal party, and he went into another room to get ready. All of my family then arrived, including my niece – Squidge – and we had a lot of fun getting ready and having pictures taken while I was secretly trying not pass out with excitement.

To be fair – it’s difficult to get too stressed when you have a Squidge playing with Peppa Pig and occasionally squeaking at you…

My mum, who looked extremely glam in her fabulous hat, walked me down the aisle to ‘Don’t Stop Believing’ by Journey, and I couldn’t decide whether I wanted to run up and hug The Bloke (who looked incredibly handsome in his suit) when I saw him or slow down so we could all appreciate the awesomeness of the song, but I remember smiling so much that my face hurt.

The registrar was a hilarious guy – making little jokes throughout and at one point when Squidge made a noise he announced that this was a sign of triplets and then everyone promptly wet themselves laughing at the apparent look of horror on my face. Two of our friends – Marika and Ness – very kindly agreed to do some readings for us, and read beautifully. I couldn’t look at them while they were doing it – I would have cried…

There was also some slight confusion amongst my friends as to who I was marrying as The Bloke is known by his middle name, so when we were saying our vows a few of them confessed to me later that they were wondering who on earth the registrar was talking about. At least I said the right name…

The weather, despite the fact that it was a little cold, was glorious – the sun came out just as the ceremony started even though the reports had said all week that it was going to be cloudy – so we immediately went outside to get some group photographs in front of the building before everyone went to the bar. We were lucky to have a brilliant photographer, Andy Vokes, (who is a blogger himself) and I barked out a quick succession of who we wanted in the pictures one by one, which we got through really quickly without any hassle. It helps to have a teacher voice sometimes…

The food was a hot knife and fork buffet with a traditional seating plan, and I have to admit that when I first saw it I was mortified – it looked like a 1970’s school dinner – but thankfully each dish was gorgeous and everybody got up for second (and in some cases, third) helpings, which I was really pleased with, and as an added bonus I managed to eat without spilling food on my dress or my gorgeous bouquet without needing to put a bib on.

Winner.

The speeches were lovely too. They weren’t too long, all very heartfelt and my only annoyance was that I’d left my own speech upstairs (yes, I made sure that I spoke too… of course) so I had to wing it and ended up not only missing out half of the stuff I’d prepared, but was then kicking myself afterwards because I didn’t actually say ‘I love you’ during any of it. I did one thing right though – I didn’t cry and snot everywhere as I expected to… It was touch and go on a few occasions though…

As the cupcake tower was used instead of a traditional wedding cake we bought a single tier sponge just for the purpose of cutting, and on the top instead of having a traditional bride and groom cake topper we had a Wonder Woman and Batman set of figurines – a tribute to The Bloke’s love of all things superhero.

After it got dark we went outside to take advantage of the clear evening and the sparklers that we had bought to get more photographs. We spent ages attempting to get a lovely heart shape, but it ended up looking more like a ‘peach’ as Andy discretely described it. In actuality, it looked like a large bottom – and I loved it so much that I’ve asked for a copy. I plan on framing it and putting it on the wall…

While we were doing that some people were making full use of the Instagram frame…

And then, we put on the music, turned on the disco lights and had a dance! The first dance, done to a non-sweary version of Halestorm’s ‘Here’s To Us’ was awkward as, well, something really awkward… but I love the song, so I think in between swaying from side to side I was singing – how romantic! I then went and got my phone and took some pictures of the day myself… The dance floor was quiet at times – the venue was huge so there were people in all of the different rooms, but the minute I blasted Bon Jovi from the speakers everyone suddenly appeared…

Image by Andrew Vokes

It was perfect, a room full of my favourite people – my family, The Bloke’s family, our friends, all dancing and singing, eating hog roast and cupcakes. There were friends from my sixth-form and university days, work colleagues and even bloggers – it was awesome. The only regret that I have from the day was that I hadn’t invited at least 20 more people that I wanted to but thought that the budget wouldn’t allow for it with the evening food, but the guests ate so much during that wedding breakfast that a lot of them were still full a few hours later, so there would have been plenty to go round. (Click on the images for the full view)

And now, I have headspace and a honeymoon to look forward to in a few weeks. No more jars, no more lists, just a lovely husband to annoy!

My photographer has been very gracious in getting some photos to me really quickly, and I already have a favourite one:

Image by Andrew Vokes

Ever thine. Ever mine. Ever ours.

The Wedding! After a lovely weekend it's back down to earth - The Bloke is now back at work for a while before we go on the honeymoon and I have returned to the the online world.