#i like seeing faces that i recognise so im always very happy to see all of those customers :D

[strwberri-milk]

Hello, I love ur LADS works <3. Can i request the boys on the day of their and reader's wedding, their reaction to first seeing the dress and their vows in the current timeline. Tysm 🩷

i literally wrote this entire thing and then tumblr deleted it so im so MAD - wrote this w/ reader being g/n bc what if you wanna wear a sick pantsuit to your wedding, focues on the first look/vows!! but i dont write vows bc i dont know the touch of another human also very very slight references to myths you dont need to know them to read this/its not really a spoiler

Zayne took an active role in your wedding planning because you wanted him to. You know he's got his preferences and even though he bends to your will a majority of the time you know that you want as much of his input as possible.

A part of him honestly wanted to be there for you to pick out your clothes for the wedding. He wanted to spend the afternoon telling you how amazing you look and how excited he is to marry you but he knows it would make you much happier to surprise him on the day of. Besides, he has a reputation to maintain as a professional doctor - crying in the changing room is not conducive to such an image, you tease.

The day of the wedding he focuses on the empty space in front of him. He doesn't want to look at the walkway until he knows your day, knowing that the anticipation of your presence would just make him cry. Unfortunately for him when it's finally time for him to meet you at the alter he immediately starts crying. He doesn't even notice that tears are sliding down his face until the officiant hands him a tissue.

You can't help but tease him a little for his reaction but you're crying just as much, bringing a hand up to wipe away his tears as you laugh. He leans into your touch, the two of you sharing a quiet moment until it's time for the two of you to say your vows. His vows are concise yet affectionate, detailing the moment he knew he loved you. It's a day that's just out of your reach, one that you can't remember but one he clearly looks upon fondly.

When it's time for the two of you to kiss he steals the breath out of your lungs. He kisses you hard, passionately as a reminder of how much he loves you. You can't help but blush a little at how intense the kiss was but the way he looks at you is even more intense, thanking you for giving him the opportunity to be loved by you.

Xavier was always happy to give you his opinions for the wedding whenever you asked for them. He might not have a strong opinion but he does definitely have one, telling you that he wants but that he's also happy to just go along with whatever you want. All he cares about is that he's marrying you.

When you come down the aisle he can't take his eyes off of you. He's had a determined look throughout a majority of the ceremony, one you recognise from moments of intense focus whenever he's working. It's his default for trying to stay calm throughout the day, waiting anxiously for you at the alter. Now that you're finally here the look on his face softens, smiling at you as he watches every step you take to him carefully.

His vows are simple, swearing to protect you for the rest of his life. Somehow, you get the sense that he's spent a lot of time working on the words, his speech more formal and elegant than you're used to but it's still perfectly him. He smiles at you softly the entire time, his absolute adoration for you obvious as you listen.

When he kisses you it feels like the first time. He holds you delicately, hands cupping your face as he whispers another "I love you" against your lips. He tells you how excited he is to finally be your husband, promising you again that he'll always be by your side.

Rafayel went all out for your wedding. Anything you wanted he got for you, no questions asked. Surprisingly, he actually didn't have very many wants for the ceremony himself, constantly telling you that as long as you're happy he's happy. The only thing was he really wanted to design your wedding attire, wanting it to perfectly match is. You had to fight him for it, telling him it'd defeat the purpose of it all being a surprise. You end up compromising by allowing him to pick the fabric and pattern - that way you two could still match but he doesn't know what the final product looks like. Besides, he already designed the wedding bands so he wasn't too upset about losing this battle.

His eyes are glued to the head of the aisle, waiting for you to come down it. The second you appear his eyes start watering just the slightest, wiping his tears as he waits for you to come to him. His breath feels like it's been stolen out of his lugs, taking your hands in his when you finally stand across from him. His vows are memorised so he doesn't bother to reach for any notecards.

He promises you the world, telling you that he'll be waiting for you until all the seas in the world dry up and even past then. His words are ardent, almost feverish as he devotes his entire being to you, reminding you time and time again that as far as he's concerned, his life means nothing to you.

After the two of you kiss he buries his face into your neck, holding you tightly as his vows continue. They're simple yet just as devoted, Rafayel telling you that right now, his words are just for you.

Sylus, like Rafayel, spared no expense for your wedding. He has less opinions about the whole ceremony and tells you that whatever you need to make you happy then you have to get it. As long as you want it, you'll have it.

When he sees you for the first time he's rendered speechless. He's got a good poker face though so to everybody else, they just think that the smirk on his face is a warning to you of what's to come but you can see the softened arch in his brows, the way his lips are just the slightest bit downturned in anxiety. You reach out of his hands, laughing softly at the fact that they're shaking. Nobody can tell but you, keeping your hands in his so he has something to ground himself to.

His vows for you are hushed, barely heard by the audience since as far as he's concerned, they're promises that are only for you. He loves you more than anything, and he swears that he'd never do anything to hurt you for as long as he lives. He promises that he'll go along with all your schemes and love you with all of his heart - even though that comes to him as naturally as breathing.

The audience is surprised to see such a soft version of him come out in public, the look in his eyes when he sees you making them all melt. He kisses you softly, holding your face in his hand as he makes sure you understand the depth of his feelings for you while he swears his life to you.

[dollarbils]

my stalker | b.e.

billie eilish x fem!reader

context. your stalker isn’t too happy about the police report you’d just filed.

warnings. stalker billie, harsh words, physical struggle

the drive back from the police station was nerve racking. every turn you took you felt like someone was watching you. like she was watching you. your paranoia had overtaken your life as you watched every step you took, constantly checking your surroundings and double locking the door. you were scared, and she loved it.

the buzz of your phone interrupted your hasty movements to get out of your car. you waited until you had gotten inside, double locking the door of course, before answering.

“hello?” you didn’t recognise the number but you’d assumed it was the guy you met last night at a party. you’d left him your number since he was hitting on you.

“well that wasn’t very nice of you, was it?” her voice was deep, somewhat angry. and it took everything in you not to scream and panic.

“stay the fuck away from me you psycho!” you yelled through the phone, not hanging up though, wanting to hear her response.

“it’s in your best interest to be kinder to me, baby. i’m not here to hurt you.” here. here. here?

“i’m going to call the police if i see you in my garden again.” you peeked out of the window, scanning the bushes.

“oh please, give me more credit.” this time, the voice didn’t come from your phone, it came from behind you and you spun around in a quick movement to dodge her arm that was reaching for you. however, you weren’t quick enough, as her other arm pulled you back towards her. she pushed you against the wall, her hands pinning you in place and her strength defeating you.

“what on earth do you want from me?” you held her eye contact, masking your ever growing fear. she seemed surprised. you couldn’t make out her features completely due to the darkness. her eyes however, were captivating all the same.

“i want you to stop reporting me to the police, it’s annoying.” she pressed into you, pinning your face in place with her hypnotising eyes.

“maybe don’t stalk me.” you suggested and she rolled her eyes.

“you’re scared of me. i can tell.”

“well what did you expect exactly? a hug and a kiss?” it seemed to be that pissing her off more was the strategy you were going with.

“don’t be afraid of me. i’m what you need.” she whispered on your cheek. “i can hear your heart beating. calm down baby.” you squirmed in her arms, trying to fight her grip but she only pushed you back harder. however soft her words were, her actions never matched. her face was still impossibly close to yours as she waited for a response.

“nothing to say?” she commented, teasing you for your sudden silence.

“fuck you.” you moved quickly, catching her by surprise and getting past her grip to reach for your phone. she was quicker however, grabbing it and shoving it in her back pocket.

“what the fuck.. stalker.” you contemplated on what you should call her. she simply chuckled at what you came up with.

“it’s billie.” she clarified her name.

“i don’t care, give me my phone.” she kept her distance, no longer making a move to reach for you.

“come and get it.” she challenged. “don’t be scared.” she added when you made no move to get your phone back.

“just tell me what you want and give me my phone back.” you moved away from her slowly but she just followed, keeping the exact same distance between you no matter how far back you traveled.

“i think you know what i want. and im not about to give you your phone back so that you can wait for your boy toy to text you.” her grin revealed the glistening metal on her teeth, even in the dark.

“how..?” you were at loss for words. a sick feeling rising to your stomach. no matter where you went she’d always know, she’d always be there too.

“hm?” she mocked you, waiting for you to continue.

“just leave me alone.” you pleaded her but she just chuckled.

“but you’re so fun to play with.” her smile was bright but her eyes were dark. she moved closer to you as you backed away but like always, she was much quicker.

“you’re sick.” you shook your head as her hands came up to your face. you didn’t bother stopping the action.

“i feel quite good.” her lips came down to yours, kissing the side of them, but missing them by a millimetre.

“what are you doing?” her hands caressed your neck as she moved her face to look at you.

“i know we’re meant to be.” her words were soft, contrasting most of what had transpired. you felt her hand on your ass for a second longer than it should’ve been. but when she closed the door behind her and you reached inside of your pocket, you found your phone, as if it had been untouched.

as she walked away from your house calmly, a smile was plastered on her face. she knew you’d be thinking about her for the rest of the week. and that’s all she wanted. for now.

[rrxnjun]

two people ;; mark lee

pairing: mark lee x fem! reader genre: wedding planner! mark, fiancé! jeno, strangers to lovers au | slice of life, slowburn, angst, hurt/comfort word count: 16.8k warnings: swearing, a break up a/n: i broke my own heart with this one. also, the blue monday series is finally over, after more than a year passing since i started it haha <3 sorry it took so long, but im happy to finally have a series that i managed to complete :) thank you for everyone that read the series, all of the fics are insanely special and to me and i hold them very dear to my heart. hope you like a painful hurt/comfort as our last stop!

synopsis: two people under bedsheets: one suffocating lover, one fool in a wedding gown. in other words, where you find the courage to get over your guilt and break free from your own promise, all becasue, in true irony, your wedding planner.

blue monday series | playlist

TWO PEOPLE UNDER BEDSHEETS, ONE SHIVERING WITH COLD FEET

You’re quite certain you’ve rethought your decision more times than you can count.

When your body hits the cold sheets of your bed, stumbling to your side of the mattress, you wonder if the heater broke again and you’re going to spend another night alone, shivering until the tiredness doesn’t make your thoughts turn off and your eyelids get heavy with sleep. Dressed in your usual pajamas and staring out of the window, watching the stars shyly glimmer, the moon kisses your cheeks in a solemn feeling of a weird nostalgia you can’t seem to shake off no matter how hard you try. The feeling is quite uncomfy. It makes your bones itch, it makes you wonder what is wrong and why you’re suddenly so deep in your thoughts, wondering about all the different paths you could’ve taken. You try to battle the feeling, but there’s no use– it’s too strong and you’re too weak; too tired to keep fighting.

A huff lands into your ear, a muffled sigh that makes you slightly open your eyes and still in your movements, wondering if you’ve woken him up. Feeling momentarily bad, you get ready to mumble a whispered apology for going to bed so late when you know that he has to wake up early for work tomorrow, acknowledging the fact that your arrival to bed always startles him and makes him wake up in the middle of the night, when a strong arm slings itself over your middle, engulfing you in a tight back-hug.

His body grows closer to you, shuffling himself to stick himself as close to your body as possible, a heavy breath reaching your ear. Your hand automatically reaches for his one laying on your stomach, looking over at him to see his eyes still closed, noticing his breathing being steady. You haven’t woken him up, you sigh in relief, eyes traveling along his face for some time, studying his features as if this was the first time he’s so close to you. 

His eyelashes kiss his cheekbones, sharp edges of his face making him perhaps one of the most handsome people you’ve ever seen. You remember all the girls in university being jealous of you, for you’ve managed to catch Lee Jeno– the Lee Jeno everyone had been pining over ever since before you enrolled, feeling pride for how long your relationship has lasted. The shape of his lips is now a familiar sight to you– you bet you could recognise his mouth even with your eyes closed, knowing his warmth and his mannerisms while kissing you by heart now, for it’s happened more times than you can count; more times than you can remember. 

Looking back over to the window, eyes briefly catching the time glimmering on the alarm clock sitting on your bedside table, you bite down on your lips and try to battle the weird feeling starting to dangerously spread across your insides again. His body pressing itself into your back is warm, trying hard to provide you with a sense of home and safety.

Chewing on your bottom lip, you fight the sigh that desires to come out of your chest.

Shimmering in the cold– because your body doesn’t let you absorb the hotness of his love anymore– you nervously play with the silver on your ring finger, twirling it around and feeling for the little pedant in the middle.

Almost like every other day, not being able to fall asleep, you’re quite certain you’ve rethought your decision more times than you can count.

Heels clicking on the shiny white floor, you walk through the narrow hall of the building in the very center of your hometown, adjusting the bag on your shoulder. As you near the service you’re supposed to visit today, your heart starts doing little tumbles and turns, your hands shaky as you think of the appointment right in front of you. Taking a deep breath in and out, you run your hand through your hair, trying to calm yourself down for the last time as you open the door and step inside of the room, telling yourself that there’s no turning back now and you’re in it for good.

The bell above the door rings, making you cautiously look around the room, noticing the whole store decorated in white and nude tones, plants and flowers potted everywhere across the spacious room. In the corner of the whole store, you see a little light wooden desk with three cushioned chairs, a desktop computer in the corner, various catalogs scattered across the surface with some more in a little white IKEA bookshelf right behind it all. 

Admiring everything, you almost don’t notice the man peeking his head out of the door on the right, a hesitant look playing with his features. 

“Good morning,” he says, bowing to you out of politeness.

Caught off-guard for no reason at all, you turn your lips into a tight-lipped smile, greeting him. “Good morning! I’m… uh… I’m supposed to have an appointment today,” you say, playing with your fingers as you clasp your hands together at your waist.

“Oh,” he nods, finally coming out of the room, furrowed eyebrows and all, “Ms… and Mr Lee?” he asks, confirming, earning himself a hurried nod.

“Yeah,” you say, “I’m- I’m Ms Lee to-be,” you clarify, licking your lips in nerves.

The man in front of you nods, ushering you towards the little station in the corner, leading you to the chair and inviting you to sit down. “And Mr Lee is…?”

“At work,” you mutter, putting your hair behind your ear, “he’s- he’s quite busy with work, usually, so he wasn’t able to come and I didn’t just want to cancel it, so I figured I can come alone, but- but he’ll be here the next time, I promise!” you hurriedly explain, suddenly feeling shy under the stranger’s gaze, not wanting to be judged by, who you assume is, your wedding planner.

His smile is gentle and reassuring, nodding as he stares into your eyes. “No worries! It’s okay, it’s just… unusual to come alone to a wedding planning, but I suppose we can work with only you today, then,” he says, his voice calm and sending shivers down your spine.

Clearing your throat, you take your eyes off the stranger in front of you, letting them travel all across the room, desiring to find something to put your attention towards. The whole situation feels weird and awkward. Who even comes to plan their wedding alone? It’s not like it’s only your wedding– there’s two of you that are getting married, and it’s only expected for you two to do it all together. And that’s how it was supposed to go anyway– the appointment at the wedding salon was scheduled a little over a few weeks ago, with Jeno reassuring you that he’s free that day; but when the day came and he told you he has work, you wanted to cancel it and come some other day. He refused, though, telling you that you can start on it alone and he’ll just compromise with you and follow what you’ve chosen.

It all feels like it’s supposed to be about you, but when your own wedding is the thing on line, it almost looks as if your own fiancé isn’t even interested in being a part of it. 

“My name is Mark Lee, by the way,” the man says after clearing his throat, catching your attention again and offering you his hand to shake, “I’m the person in charge of your wedding, it seems! I hope you find working with me on this important day fun and that we can arrange something you two have always dreamt of,” he smiles as you take his hand and shake it, noticing the warmness of his touch.

Mark Lee doesn’t seem like your typical wedding planner. The ones you see in the movies are almost always female, with long acrylic nails and blonde hair pinned up into a funky hair-do, with bright eyes and smile lines imprinted into their face. Mark Lee, on the other hand, is a male– which is unusual, to say the least– and he also seems nothing like the movies. He’s calm and gentle, although still excited to work with you on the day of your dreams, with a shy smile and honest eyes that are slightly covered by the fringe of his chocolate hair falling into them, making him look young and lively.

“Nice to meet you,” you say, “my name’s ______ ______,” you introduce yourself with your first and last name, not taking Jeno’s just yet and shuffling a little in your seat.

“Okay, so,” Mark says as he takes out a notepad and types in the password into the computer that’s sitting in the corner of the desk, “I suppose we can start brainstorming today? Maybe tell me your main ideas, what you want for the wedding and what you don’t, how you want it to be decorated, just- just the general idea, nothing too detailed. We can move further when your fiancé is here as well, to make sure your ideas align and stuff. Sounds okay?”

Humming in approval, you watch him click around for a bit, opening some documents, while also twirling his pen in his other hand, the movement of it through his fingers fascinating you. The steady motions of the blue plastic of the pen catch your eye and make you zone out for a few seconds, completely making you forget about the task at hand and clearing your head out.

“So, anything you have in mind?” Mark perks up your attention again, making you swiftly take your eyes off the pen in his hand and instead look into his eyes again, finding yourself having a hard time maintaining eye contact with his deep brown eyes.

“I- I…” you stumble over your words, trailing off as you get lost in your thoughts. Wondering what your ideal wedding should look like, you chew on your bottom lip and try to imagine the day playing out right in front of your eyes. Your imagination tends to be crazy and wild, completely vivid, but for some reason, in this moment, you can’t seem to see the scene materialize in front of your eyes no matter how hard you try, all moments of it in your brain turning out blurry and hazy, making you sigh in frustration.

What do you even want your wedding to look like? How do you want it to play out? The questions run through your brain in a rush, not letting you focus and come up with answers, making the man in front of you silently clear his throat to get your attention. 

Noticing that you’re probably wasting his time with this, your cheeks feel hot as you point your eyes towards your shoes, sighing. “I’m- I’m sorry. I think… I… I don’t- I don’t really think I have an idea of how the wedding is supposed to look like?” you mumble out, sounding more like a question than a firm answer.

“I see,” Mark answers, nodding in acknowledgement, “you have all the time you need, don’t worry. We’re here to make it perfect,” he says, smiling at you.

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you realize you’ve never really fantasized about your wedding. You remember all your classmates at school sighing and gasping about the idea of a big wedding, marrying the love of their life; but you surely don’t remember ever engaging in those conversations. It’s like you never really cared to get married, you never really wondered how it would feel to kiss your loved one at the altar, you never really thought of it as a big deal. And now, when the day is supposed to come that those imaginations are to come true, you find yourself torn and confused, because how do you even chase a dream that was never there in the first place? How do you fulfill expectations you don’t have?

“To be honest, I have no idea about what I want, I just- I kind of know what Jeno would want, so I suppose I can just follow that, but- but I never really…” you trail off, seeing Mark nod and bite on his lower lip. 

“Uhm,” he hums in understatement, “I see. Maybe… maybe you can look through some catalogs and see what you like the best? I understand that you know what your fiancés' imaginations are, but I also want both of the parties to like the big day, so I need your input as well.”

Gulping, you hurriedly nod, sweaty palms reaching over to the magazines on the desk, desperately flipping through the pages and pointing your gaze towards the pictures, trying hard to admire the big ceremonies, the pink and red decorations, the flower crowns and red carpets on the beach; but once again failing, noticing that this is nothing close to what you imagine when you think of what’s supposed to be the happiest day of your whole entire life. 

The pages of the catalog stick together, making you desperately try to peel them off of each other with your clammy fingers, your breathing getting quicker as you notice the eyes of Mark Lee on your figure, watching over your every move. 

This is not at all how you imagined the appointment to go. You’re only wasting his time and embarrassing yourself– there’s no way you’re ever going back.

“Hey, I’ll send you this quiz, okay? It’s like a- like a little questionnaire where you pick and choose what you like and answer some simple questions and then it gives you a rough idea of what your wedding could look like based on these answers,” Mark says, making you halt in your motion, “I know this is probably a lot of pressure on you right now, since the whole process could be scary and stressful and you’re out here all alone, so don’t worry about not giving me an answer today, alright?”

You find yourself nodding, averting the hands off the pages of the catalog and pressing your body further into the chair. “Alright.”

“And you can also take some of these catalogs home and look through them, mark what you like, take notes in them… whatever you want, okay? And the next time you come with Mr Lee, you can tell me what you both like and we’ll work from that.”

Following his lead in the conversation, you nod again and watch him close the catalog you’ve been frantically searching through for the last few minutes, stacking some more on top of it and pushing the pile towards you so you can take it home. 

“Tell me your number so I can text you the link to the test and the next time you come, it will be easier, I promise.”

“Okay,” you nod, desperately trying to take your attention off the fact that you probably look like a little child, following each instruction that’s been given to you, too scared to take a move.

Paying your goodbye to the wedding planner and taking the pile of catalogs back to your car, your heels meeting the ground resonating all through the empty hallway as you walk out of the building, your mind flashes with the thought that Mark Lee already had your email address and he could’ve just sent you the link there.

Sitting in the silent car for a minute before you drive off, you try to battle the memory of what happened just a few minutes prior out of your head.

Fixing up your lipstick in the mirror of Jeno’s car, you get ready to enter the premises of the wedding salon once again, but this time, with your fiancé by your side. You suppose that the last meeting was completely useless- Jeno told you so as well, and you agree, in a way– but if you wouldn’t have gone to that first meeting, you think that the second one would make you even more nervous.

You see, it’s easier to pretend that you know what you want when you’ve rehearsed what you want to say beforehand. Taking the quiz Mark Lee sent you, and also a couple of more, accompanying yourself with catalogs, magazines and Pinterest boards while your fiancé was at work, you tried hard to come up with something you wouldn’t hate as much. 

Maybe you just don’t like the idea of a wedding. That doesn’t mean you should crush your fiancés dreams to the ground and make the whole thing more difficult than it should be. You’ll just go along with it, get married, and then, you don’t have to worry about it anymore. It's as simple as that– you’re good at compromising, after all.

“Ready?” Jeno asks you as you put the cap of the lipstick you’ve been using back on, shooting you a quick look before you nod and open the door of the car, climbing out of the vehicle.

Following Jeno’s footsteps, so confident and easy it almost makes you feel like he’s been here before, you reach the entrance of the wedding salon in no time. You texted Mark about the time of the next meeting a week ago– you figured it’s easier to communicate like this, instead of emailing each other back and forth. Finding a time when it would be fine with both Jeno and you, and also looking for a free time in Mark’s schedule was quite difficult, but you managed to find a spot on a Thursday afternoon. 

You hoped the day would come slower than it did, but as we all know, life doesn’t work like we want it to all the time.

Hearing the ring of the bell above the door, your wedding planner is already waiting for you at the computer, a welcoming smile adoring his features. You find yourself smiling back at him, easing into the situation. The man in front of you is wearing black jeans and a white button-down, opting to a more professional look, as he shakes his hand with your fiancé and introduces himself. 

“Hello!” Mark smiles, sitting down at the stool, pointing his eyes towards the computer and clicking around for a bit, seemingly opening some document where he can note down everything you two tell him about the vision you have for your wedding. “So, as I already mentioned with Y/N the last time, I’d like to hear some brainstorming from both of you right now, just to see the general idea that we can build off of next. Sounds good?”

Jeno offers him a nice smile, the one where his eyes crinkle up into moon crescents, turning into the adorable samoyed you fell in love with in university. Reaching for his hand, you try to calm yourself down by playing with his fingers– an action you always used to practice whenever you were nervous about something– ready to continue with the planning of your wedding. 

“Sounds great,” Jeno agrees, making Mark nod at his answer, glad with the reply he got. Resting his back against the chair, the man in charge of your wedding looks at you with expecting eyes, ready to hear your answers.

“So, what comes into your mind when you think of your wedding?” Mark asks.

Jeno looks at you for a split second, smiling, as if he was waiting for you to go first and say your ideas. When you don’t comply and stay silent instead, he wastes no time in turning to the other man in the room, talking enthusiastically about what’s going to be the most important day of his life, making you stare at him in examination and interest.

“I think of something romantic. I like grand gestures and big things, so I want our wedding to be one big party where everyone has fun and stays up the whole night,” he starts, making you hum. You knew that Jeno was into these kinds of things– he never missed a chance to celebrate anything with his friends Doyoung and Renjun. Even the way he proposed to you was a grand gesture in itself.

The whole thing played out on your vacation in Spain. You like Spain– the architecture, nature and the sea. Everything about it is your ideal vacation spot, a spot that makes you relax and reset after the whole year. Your first vacation with Jeno was in Spain, and so to be proposed to in the same spot you two walked across together a little over 4 years ago was only fitting and romantic. The beach spot you two found together when you graduated from university was decorated with flower petals and fairy lights, making you wonder how and when your dear partner managed to set all of this up, and when he kneeled down and asked you to marry him, you didn’t have it in you to say no. 

Not that you wanted to say no, of course. You’re in love with Lee Jeno– you somehow think that you always have been and also you always will. Marriage is a big step, though, so you think that the status itself was what made you halt and hesitate for a split second before you replied a teary-eyed “Yes” and kissed your boyfriend with fondness and urgency.

“Alright, sounds good. When you close your eyes and imagine the day, what do you see? Anything specific?” 

Jeno hums, even closing his eyes and thinking deeply, before he replies with a grin. “I see people dancing. I also think I’d like it to be in a big venue, a lot of white and pink… something similar to what you have going on right here, to be honest,” he says.

“Great. Y/N?”

Raising your brows up, startled, you point your look to Mark and realize he wants you to answer his question as well. A wedding is a thing for two– at least– so it’s only normal for him to expect you to have some opinion and idea of what you want.

“I… I’d like it to be something small and comfy? With my closest friends, and stuff. I don’t mind it being decorated simply, since… I’m not really that about flowers and… all that romance stuff…” you say honestly, making sure the rehearsed sentences you made up in your mind on your way here sound gullible. 

It’s not that you’re lying– you just, frankly speaking, still don’t think you love the idea of a wedding. What you’ve said is just a thing you know you’d hate the least. 

Mark looks at you with an examining look, furrowing his eyebrows as he nods and notes down everything both of you have said into the computer. 

“That’s… your opinions are completely opposite, to be honest, but I’m sure we can find a compromise and create something both of you would like. I’ll show you some catalogs and you can both point to things you’d like, okay?” Mark says, rummaging through the drawers of his desk and offering you some magazines, almost identical to the ones you have at home from the last time you visited.

Seeing Jeno taking charge and flipping through the pages with much excitement, you watch his profile when he smiles and points to pictures of greatly decorated wedding halls, churches, tables full of cakes and a picture of the groom and the bride photographed together in a dramatic posture, dipped down and kissing. Flower petals, sparkles and fairy lights everywhere– this is the image of a wedding your fiancé would love, and you’re aware of the fact all too well.

“Isn’t this great, love?” he asks, not even tearing his eyes off the page he’s currently looking at, too busy with studying all the details, already imagining the two of you in the moment captured on one of the pictures in the catalog.

Eyes glazing over the glossy page, you bite down on your lower lip, sighing. 

Again, you don’t find it in you to disagree. He looks so excited and you wouldn’t want to break his heart with your decision.

So instead, you only nod and try to put on your best excited tone. “It looks amazing, Jeno.”

Your eyes meet Mark’s for a moment. 

The look is full of stern sympathy.

ONE SUFFOCATING LOVER ONE FOOL IN A WEDDING GOWN

The next part of your wedding planning journey is perhaps the one you, as the bride, should find the most exciting. How you’re gonna look on your big day is truly important, since you can only imagine full instagram stories of the wedding of every single guest invited, and also, the pictures you take on your wedding are what’s shown around to next generations, making your kids look at the moments captured in time, making them see the blueprint of what’s love supposed to look like while also simultaneously reminiscing of the feelings that died down over the years, simmered and a little washed-out into gray.

Maybe the last thing is what is making you despise the idea of marrying someone so much. What if, after many many years, when you’re at the end of your journey, the pictures would bring more pain than joy? What if it’s a painful reminder of something great that you no longer have in your grasp?

You don’t know what’s making you feel so conflicted about the whole thing. Thinking about it is scary, but the underlying stress of everything is still present and makes you constantly feel like you’re walking on eggshells, bound to mess something up.

Standing in another wedding salon, joined by your closest friend Seori– because you despise the idea of a big group of screaming women joining you on your journey of your own remake of Say yes to the dress– and your wedding planner Mark, you wait for inspiration to kick you and set you off to hunting down the perfect wedding dress. 

“Hello, hello,” a man– lean in posture, wearing dress pants and loafers– joins your little group, a bright smile sitting on his face as he speaks to you, “I’m Na Jaemin, nice to meet you!”

Bowing to the man in formality and shaking his hand, introducing both yourself and your best friend of many years, you grow hesitant in your place. Eyes roaming around the room– walls painted a light peach color, creating a beautiful contrast with the white dresses hung all around the room– you take a deep breath in and out, taking a glimpse of Mark Lee standing by your side and saying something to you.

“This is where we usually go with our brides to pick out dresses, since Jaemin here has the most amazing assortment of all kinds and styles,” Mark explains, making you notice that the two men seem rather close. As you nod and walk around the salon with Seori, they catch up for a minute before the one with blonde hair walks up to you with a bright smile.

“Do you have any preferences about the dress? Any image in your head?” he asks, making you startled. This is not the first time you’ve heard someone ask you about your preferences for the wedding, yet, the question always surprises you and catches you off guard. Usually, you’d consider yourself a woman with strong opinions that’s not afraid to voice them– you’ve gotten into multiple arguments about feminism over your university years– but suddenly, you feel weak and disheartened, shrugging.

“I’ve looked on Pinterest the last night… and the last couple of nights, actually,” you softly laugh, trying to ease yourself into the conversation, “I found more styles that I liked, but I’m not sure if they would fit me well.”

“That’s what we’re here for!” Jaemin encourages you. “Just pick up whatever you like and we’ll help you try it on! Any adjustments needed will be done here, so don’t stress about it.”

Gratefully smiling and nodding at the man, you turn to the rack full of pearl white and shades of cream, your hands start working before your brain does, moving the hangers around and taking a look at all of the dresses available, taking your time. You’re not quite sure what would look good on you, not really able to imagine the dresses on your figure, and you feel the mental block of not being excited enough about all of this holding you back and tying you down. 

“What about these?” Seori asks, an excited glint in her voice. Turning around to her, seeing the dress she’s picked out, you can’t help but giggle, since the dress is awfully similar to the obnoxious gown you wore to your senior prom, just in white. 

“You’re unbelievable,” you laugh, coming up to her and taking the hanger into your hands, “one look and I’m back in high school,” you say, shaking your head in disbelief and hanging the dress back onto the rack, giving up on that option already.

“I still remember how funny you looked,” Seori laughs, poking fun at you, “I can’t believe you wore that.”

“I can’t believe you let me wear that!” you argue back. The memories of your senior prom hit you with a sense of weird nostalgia. It was all so easy back then– you went with Jeno, and you had a lot of fun together. It felt like an end of an era, and it truly was just that, even though the reality of it didn’t click for you back then. You’ve lived through multiple stages of your life with Jeno, and to think you’re going to be with him until the end of your life, seems oddly unbelievable on your insides. 

“You were unstoppable, girl,” Seori grins, shaking her head. Continuing to look through the dresses, you pick out a few that you like, hesitantly moving them to the separate rack that’s emptied out for your options. Catching a glimpse of Mark sitting at one of the sofas, alongside with Jaemin, your eyes meet as he offers you a warm smile. This works as a reassurance, making you walk back to the dresses, standing next to Seori, seeing her pick up another white gown, showing it to you.

The dress is long and lacy, decorated with mesh on the shoulders, flowery details scattered all along the skirt. You can’t help but find the dress a little obnoxious, a little too much, perhaps, yet, you’d still call the piece of clothing beautiful, for you can see the appeal of a princessy look for most women your age. Hesitantly scanning over the many details, Seori speaks up to you.

“Jeno would love this on you.” 

Meeting her eyes, she looks at you warmly. She’s known Jeno for as long as you have, all of you being friends since high school, so you can’t say she wouldn’t know. Because, frankly speaking, it’s true– Jeno would love that dress, and he would love it on you. It fits the image of his ideal wedding perfectly, with all the romanticness, all the grand gestures matching with the long skirt and the girly detailing across the neckline. You hate the dress, you feel sick as you’re looking at it, it makes you feel claustrophobic and dizzy, yet, the words that came out of Seori’s mouth resonate in your head over and over, making you pick up the hanger and move it to the rest of your options.

Jeno would love that dress.

“I… I think I have enough options now, I’m gonna try some on,” you say, smiling at the men sitting on the sofa, being met with eager nods of acknowledgement. The two of them seem to talk like old friends, and you can’t help but wonder why Jeno doesn’t meet up with his friends anymore and why he no longer has time for anything other than work. You’d like to see him like this– immersed into a conversation, yet, still playful and happy to just… exist.

Seori helps you into the dresses behind the curtain of the dressing room. The first few of them are a miss, you don’t like the way they look on you and the way some dresses enhance the features you dislike on yourself, saying no to them almost instantly. You don’t know how long it takes for you to get through all the dresses; it feels like infinity, like the time’s stopped and you’re stuck in this loop forever, when only two dresses are left: the one Seori picked out and your own, personal favorite.

Choosing the one Jeno would love the most, you wear it and hear Seori squeal out with excitement. “This looks so good on you! Oh my god!”

Looking at yourself in the mirror, you look like the woman Jeno would want to marry. Like a cut-out from the wedding magazines he likes to look through on his free days, you spin around like a princess, fitting the image of Jeno’s ideal wedding almost perfectly– with all the flowery details and romantic style. 

“Do you like it?”

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you shrug. You must seem unsure– but on the inside, you are screaming. The claustrophobic feeling settles into your chest again, making you feel like you’re suffocating on the inside, making you desire to rip the gown off and never see it again. 

“Let’s show them!” Seori says, opening up the curtain and making you step outside of the dressing room, turning you in your place so you twirl like a Disney princess. “Doesn’t she look magical?” 

Jaemin instantly nods, a happy glint in his eye. You wonder if he likes his job so much– he certainly looks like it, from the never-disappearing smile on his face and the enthusiasm he walks around the place with. You’re quite jealous of him. He seems like the perfect image of what you’ve dreamt of being when you graduated university– a person with their life together, loving their stable job and starting a family. Yet, you’re here– seemingly put together in a wedding dress that makes you panic, the eyes of everyone on you feeling judging, not sure of what to do and to which direction to step towards to finally get yourself together.

“She looks amazing!” you hear Jaemin say, making you nod with tight lips. “Is this your favorite one?” he asks.

Opening your mouth to agree– even though it’s a lie– you blink a few times to calm yourself down. The mental image of your favorite dress still waiting at the empty rack, waiting to be tried on, burns in the back of your brain, but you’ve said goodbye to it the moment you dressed up as Jeno’s bride. 

“It can’t be,” Mark says, making you look at him with glossy eyes, confused.

“B-but-”

“You have one more to try on. You’ll see which one you like better after, okay?” he says, almost as if he was reading your mind, seeing the hesitance you tried so hard to hide.

Nodding, you step inside the dressing room again, changing the dress for the one you picked out with the help of your best friend. Taking a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, your eyes almost start to water, the A-line of the skirt and the simplicity of it all making you feel the best, like you could actually imagine yourself getting married, if you were wearing this gown. Turning around in your place, admiring the silk fabric, you don’t think you could ever find a better one. 

Yet, the other dress still sits in the back of your mind like a bad memory, not letting you leave without it. It’s there, pettily kicking it’s foot against the flooring of your brain, bringing you headache and making you nervous as your clammy fingers move your hair away when you step outside of the room, ready to be criticized by the other people at the salon.

Eyes shaking, they find solace in the features of your wedding planner, his eyes like big pools of honey when he softly traces over the lines of your body, his lips parted agape. The expression makes you shy away from his gaze, heat rising to your face when you notice light pink dusting the man’s cheeks, quickly breaking his gaze from you.

“You look beautiful,” he mumbles, clearing his throat. The compliment should sound more casual than it has, the three words making your hands shake as you turn back to the mirror, forcing yourself to watch your surroundings through it instead, shielding yourself from the situation.

“Thank you,” you say.

“So, which one do you like more?” Jaemin asks, walking up to you and tightening the dress around your waist, showing you its full potential. 

Locking eyes with Seori, you see that she’s not up to the simplicity of the dress you’ve got on. You see the suggesting look to the other dress, the one that makes you drown in despair, the one that you should be wearing, logically; the one that Jeno would love to see you in, the one you should be wearing to be his wife. 

Pupils shaking as you take your reflection in for the last time, you’re ready to say goodbye. You’re ready to take the dress off and force yourself to forget about it, force yourself to never think of how pretty you thought you looked wearing it, force yourself to never see the image of you in your brain– to not cause yourself the bittersweet feeling you’ve been getting used to recently.

“Y/N, you should… You should only think about yourself right now, okay? Our opinions don’t matter,” Mark says from behind you, your eyes locking in the mirror. He uses the word ‘our’, suggesting that you shouldn’t think about the people in this room, that you shouldn’t think about what Seori, Jaemin, or Mark himself thinks, but somehow, you feel as if the words had a deeper meaning.

Perhaps he’s telling you to forget about Jeno’s opinion for a minute. To truly let yourself get lost in the planning of the wedding, to let go of the opinion that’s weighing you down the most of them all. To pick the dress you like, and not the one your fiancé would.

“This is the only part of the wedding that’s completely up to you, after all. Maybe you should take advantage of that,” Mark completes, sending an encouraging smile towards your figure.

And he’s right. You can’t be fully in charge anywhere else– almost to the point of feeling like your opinion doesn’t matter if it’s not the same as your fiancé’s– and maybe, that’s what’s making you feel so restricted in the whole process.

Maybe you should take your favorite dress. Maybe you should do at least one thing for yourself.

The trips to Mark Lee’s wedding salon are a usual thing now. It’s your first time planning a wedding for yourself, and while you also truly hope it’s also the last time, you can’t help but feel a little weirded out at the ordinariness of it all. You get used to the trips to the salon, you get used to the time it takes you to drive there in your small car– letting you time the songs in your playlist almost perfectly until the last moment when you park and turn the engine off– only when you’re driving there alone, though, because Jeno likes to pick the music when he drives and compromise is one thing you two can’t do when it comes to a playlist. It’s okay, though. You drive to the wedding salon more times alone than with your fiancé, and while it’s unusual and you’d really want him to be there, you guess you can’t really do anything about it now. It’s not like he was the one to ask you to marry him, after all… 

“What about the honeymoon?” Mark asks one day, looking at you from under his eyelashes. The weather outside is cold and he’s wearing a thick hoodie, his whole outfit looking twice as cozy as your little thin jacket that you threw on yourself quickly before leaving the house. The image of his sweater paws makes you wonder how it would feel to be in the soft material of his light gray hoodie, making you almost slap yourself when you're caught on your own with the thought in your brain. It’s not like you’re thinking of another man when you’re on your way to get married, that’s not it– it’s just the simple jealousy of the warmth Mark radiates that’s gotten you to this point. 

Shrugging, you glance at him, meeting his chocolate eyes. “I bet Jeno would love to go somewhere to the sea. We got engaged on a beach, so I guess that’s the right way to go.”

Scribbling on the notebook that’s sitting on his table– you wonder when he switched from his laptop to written notes; maybe it’s the power crisis– he hums before he turns back to you with an examining look. “And you?”

After working for you for a couple of weeks, the man should already know that it’s no good to ask for your opinion when it comes to your wedding. You don’t really have an image in your mind, and when you do, there’s no use in pushing through with your view, since Jeno’s would always be stronger, and what Jeno says, usually goes. And you love him– he’s the one dreaming so much about marriage. So you do what he wants, naturally. 

“I don’t know,” you mumble.

Earning yourself a sigh from Mark, you almost laugh at his annoyed look. “How many times do I have to tell you that you need to tell me something I can work with, Y/N?” he asks.

After so many days spent at the wedding salon with Mark Lee, you two have come to a state of a casual friendship. It’s not all so formal and stern anymore, leaving you two space for jokes and snarky comments about cliche decorations shown on the shiny pages of magazines, making you two comfortable with each other enough to joke about looking dead when the other one is tired and telling each other about your days when you have time. Ever since you two have met, you’ve been the most indecisive person Mark Lee’s ever known– and he’s met a lot of people in his profession of a wedding planner so far. The only thing you’ve ever had a straight opinion on was the wedding dress.

He can’t get the picture of you in your dress out of his mind. Sure, he’s seen a lot of brides before, the image not really impacting him as much anymore as before– for the look on the bride’s faces never failed to make him emotional with the premise of the fact that he’s a part of something beautiful. He’s seen a lot of brides and weddings before, but in the white lights of the bright salon, he couldn’t help but think that you’ve been the most beautiful one so far, and he can’t seem to imagine anyone ever beating you. It’s a silly thought– one that he finds himself battling more times than he should, but it’s still there, in the back of his mind, whenever you two meet eyes. 

That’s why he couldn’t let you choose the dress Jeno wanted. Not because he would be selfish– at least he desperately hopes he’s not selfish for wanting to see you in that dress again, at least once, at the wedding– but because he knows that you wouldn’t feel like yourself in the other one. And why would he let that happen, when he’s practically the one in charge of the whole ceremony?

And so, the fact that you say you don’t know what you’d like for your honeymoon doesn’t surprise him. But still, he wishes you could let yourself get more in tune with your opinions than Lee Jeno’s. At least when he’s not present…

“I know, I know,” you roll your eyes at the scolding manner, “but I just… I’ve never thought about it before, I guess?”

“That makes sense, I mean, it’s your first time getting married,” he shrugs, “but you must have a place you’d like to see one day, no? A place both of you, with Jeno, would love to travel to one day,” he says, looking at you with expectations in his orbs.

Lost, shrugging at his question, you almost look full of despair and confusion. Truth be told, planning a wedding is not as relaxing as one would think. There’s many things to take in mind, a lot of things that can go wrong and need to be taken care of. And you keep telling yourself that it’s going to be alright and that it has to be the most perfect day of your life, but you just can’t seem but to be a little stranded, especially in moments when Jeno isn’t by your side; when he’s the one that should be in charge, and not you. 

Maybe Mark can read your mind. Or maybe, he’s just too good at reading people.

“Okay, relax,” he smiles, nudging your leg a little under the table, “then just… think about what you’d like to see. Your dream holiday destination. A place you always wanted to visit. Don’t think about the honeymoon thing or the wedding, if that helps.”

The grateful smile on your face is like a reward for the man, your eyes close a little as you lean back in the chair and think of the place you’d love to see the most. Not held by the grudges of the wedding, not holding on to the thought of a honeymoon, you find it easier to see the place right in front of your eyes, to focus on the noise of the destination, the crowded town centers and amazing architecture; you find it easier to be in tune with what you want, letting go of the thing you always force yourself to say.

“I’d love to go to France. Paris. I- I know they say it’s dirty, but frankly, I just want to see it with my own eyes at least once. And I think it’s quite romantic,” you say, opening your eyes to see the man in front of you glancing at you with a soft smile playing with his features, feeling yourself getting shy as your cheeks heaten up at the words you’ve just uttered out of your lips, “oh god, this might just be the cheesiest thing I’ve ever said out loud.”

Mark chuckles, shaking his head at you. “It’s a nice change.”

Scratching the back of your neck, you watch as the man scribbles down the word ‘Paris’ into his notebook, the lack of eye contact leaving you with your walls down and your soul in open. “But I don’t think- I don’t think Jeno would like to go to Paris. I’ll think of something else, so it fits…”

Looking back up at you, the shame mirroring in your eyes when he examines your whole figure, he lets himself shake his head in disbelief, showing you his true opinion on the comment. “I think you should compromise, you know.”

“Yeah, that’s what I just said.”

“That’s not a compromise, Y/N,” he says, his voice considerate, “that’s just… you compromising. Not Jeno. Never Jeno.”

And while you’d like to tell him that that’s how it’s supposed to be, because you already agreed to the wedding despite not making your mind yet, while you’d like to tell him that you owe it to him for not being fond of the idea, while you’d like to tell him that what Jeno says goes, because you can’t imagine yourself breaking his heart with telling him that this is not at all what you want– you stay quiet. Shrugging, you avert your gaze to the ground.

“I’m fine with that. I’m more than happy to comply, if he’s happy.”

TWO PEOPLE UNDER BEDSHEETS, ONE WALLOWING IN DEFEAT

Swirling the maroon liquid around in your tall glass, feet dressed in warm socks as you’re twisted into a blanket burrito, you overlook the figure of your fiancé sitting at your small couch, papers sprawled all around the coffee table. Taking a sip of the red wine, you feel comfortable for the first time in weeks– you don’t feel rushed, you don’t feel like there’s a burden on your shoulders– and you pray hard that it’s not just the effect of alcohol.

“Can you pass me that paper?” you ask Jeno, seeing him turn around with his half-wet hair, having just come out of the shower after work, his slight smile putting you at ease.

“Which one?”

“The list of guests. The one in the corner,” you point to the paper sitting at the coffee table, the contents of it another important step closer to your wedding. Mark advised you two to compile a list of all the people you want to invite to your wedding, so you know how big of a venue you’ll need to rent out. You complied to his request, sitting at your table one afternoon and scribbling down names of all the people you’d miss at your wedding, having the list not being that long– there was around 15 people, including your family, and you knew damn well that some of the people in your list will overlay with Jeno’s, for you have a couple of mutual friends.

“Oh,” he nods, passing you the list, “want to go over it? I did mine a while back, when you were at work,” he adds, making you nod.

“Sure.”

“Are you inviting girls from university?” he asked, looking at you from under his eyelashes. He knew some of your friends from uni, and while you could very well imagine your wedding full of people that you barely knew, it’s not something you strive for. Your wedding, at least in your head, is supposed to be a little safe haven– a place where you dance around and have fun, a place where you know each face that shows up, being able to let loose and enjoy the evening with your closest friends. So, to Jeno’s question, you shake your head in disagreement.

“Only a couple,” you say, “my roommates, yes. The other ones, I don’t really need there.”

“Oh,” he mumbles, squinting his eyelashes. In the midst of the scattered sheets of paper on the coffee table, he finds his own list, full of lazy scribbles in black ink. You can tell he took the paper you keep in the kitchen for when you need to write down a shopping list, because it’s a little greasy at the bottom. Looking over the names he’s written down, you notice that his list is significantly longer than yours, and you can also tell that some names, you barely even recognise.

“You want that many people to attend?” you ask.

“Yeah,” he shrugs, “I want them all there. Besides, my family’s big, so I can’t really make the list shorter, if that’s what you’re implying,” he notes, taking you off-guard with the sudden protest to something you haven’t even started talking about yet.

“I-I wasn’t saying that, but I think we could… go through your list and maybe forget about some people? I mean, my list is only 15 people long, and if we go through with what you have, we’d have to rent a big venue, and I can only imagine how expensive that will be…” you mumble, trying hard to pursue him.

There’s a shadow of an encouraging smile somewhere in the back of your head, a soft memory of a voice telling you that you two should compromise– you bet it’s Mark Lee, but you won’t admit that to anyone. Something about his words on your last meeting struck with you, though, and even though you would love to comply to everything Jeno wants, because he’s the one in desire of a wedding, you find yourself protesting to his idea, because, frankly, maybe you do not want to spend that much money on a venue, and also, maybe because you wanted your wedding to be small and intimate.

“I don’t care how much it costs, Y/N,” he shrugs, “it’s our wedding. We can spend some money on the special day.”

Sighing, you chew on the inside of your cheek. “I just thought we could have a smaller wedding, you know. I always wanted it to be filled with people I know, people I can’t imagine the day go by without, so I was very cautious with the choice of my guests-”

“And I wasn’t?” he cuts you off, suddenly all defensive.

“That’s not what I said, Jeno-”

“Look, I don’t want to cut anyone off the list. You have your own guest list and I have mine. We rent a venue that can fit both, okay?” he insists, making you finally snap, annoyance for the first time slipping off your tongue.

“Why can’t we just compromise on this?”

The man looks at you with cold eyes, something you never imagined to see from a man you’re in love with. Sure, you’ve had arguments before. Yes, they scared you a little each time, but they weren’t anything you weren’t sure you wouldn’t get through. You and Jeno argue over small, blatant things, things you can fix in a second– nothing to make you worry. This time, though, there’s a hit in your stomach that makes you freeze in your movements, halt in your step. Maybe you’ve hit a weak spot in him. Maybe you shouldn’t have said that.

“Do whatever you want,” he says, full of frustration as he throws the paper onto the table and storms off, closing the door behind him as he walks off to the bedroom, ready to sleep.

Is this how your dialogue was supposed to go? With you stating your needs, and him telling you to get over it? Do whatever you want?

You scoff. As if you wanted to get married in the first place…

Drinking the rest of the glass, you shuffle further down into the sofa, trying hard to make yourself fall asleep in the living room, despite your thoughts running around like they’re on a marathon. The warmth that radiated off the man and the whole situation is now long gone, leaving you feeling like an unlit fireplace, hugging yourself as if to shield your body from the impact of the silent sobs that dare to cut out of your throat.

What Jeno wants, goes. How silly of you to think you can compromise.

Sometimes, you wonder if you’re just not holding on to something that’s slowly burning out. Looking at your fiancé in the wedding salon right now, his side profile so perfect you’ve gotten used to it over the years, you reminisce about the memories you two have made together during your early stages of the relationship. The images flash through your brain in a feeling of bittersweet nostalgia, making you desire a time of life that’s no longer here, because you’re getting older and settling down. It’s not like you can feel free forever, you just don’t feel like you’re free in the relationship anymore– and truth be told, you were free and in love in all those moments you think of with a soft smile, so why is the essence of it no longer there? Is it really just because the thought of marrying someone is so deeply terrifying to you, or is there something more to it?

“Do you like these?” Jeno asks, holding up a wedding invitation to you. It’s snow white and the corners are rimmed with a rose gold color, everything falling perfectly with the decorations and the whole theme of your wedding.

“I do,” you nod.

You don’t.

Everything about the whole day, the closer it is, the more scary it truly feels to you. You can’t bring yourself to think of it, to imagine it, to have the promise of staying with Lee Jeno until the rest of your life right there in front of you eyes, and it all makes you wonder– truly, deeply reflect on yourself– as to why you don’t want that, and why you’re so scared of staying with him forever, when in theory, he’s the one you love and the one you should want to marry. 

“And what about these ones?”

“They’re pretty,” you reply, not meeting his eyes.

You wonder if this is just the aftertaste of the fight you had about the number of guests. Maybe you just don’t feel in tune with it because neither of you has acknowledged the argument yet, maybe because you feel bitter because you felt like your opinion wasn’t valid in the process. Maybe that’s what’s making you soullessly stare into nowhere, eyes trailing over the white walls and the clasped hands of your wedding planner sitting cautiously right opposite of you– maybe that’s what’s making you agree to everything Jeno likes; because your opinion will never matter in the first place.

But that’s okay. That’s your fate now– that’s what you signed up for, after all. You agreed to marry him. You told him yes, even though the reply wasn’t clear in your head, you said you’d love to spend your forever with him, even though the feelings battling inside of you were so conflicting, yet the one you were leaving more towards was the urge to run away. So now, you have to face it; you have to marry him, because you lied to him about your emotions, because you let him down with a promise you never wanted to keep; because you can’t face the reality of breaking the man’s heart when all he did was love you deeply.

And it’s not even that you don’t love him anymore. Maybe you just hate the idea of your relationship feeling ordinary. Maybe you’re selfishly just bored. 

“So, which ones do you prefer?” Jeno asks, looking at you with big eyes. If you stare into them for long enough, you could even see a hint of him trying to do better– asking for your opinion and ready to respect it, a hint of him saying sorry for the things he’d said without words, laying the opportunity of being in charge to you again. 

Shrugging, you chew on the inside of your cheek. You hate both. You hate the idea of every single wedding invitation, because you don’t want a wedding, and the idea of using these little pieces of cardboard to invite numerous people to see you lying into your partner’s eyes makes you want to dig a hole and lie in it, maybe even bury yourself alive. “I like both.”

“But we need to choose one,” he insists, putting a hand to your thigh, his grip soft, yet protective and comforting. You used to love his sudden touches, the affection seeping off his fingers any time his fingertips glazed the surface of your skin. Now, you find yourself wanting to shrug the hand off, for the contact of it with your body burns, making you guilty for a mess that’s currently going on in your head, making you dizzy and confused.

“I-” you stutter, “which ones do you like?” you ask, helpless.

Eyes scanning over your figure, Jeno almost pressures you for more. He almost asks for your opinion again, wanting to see the excited glint in your eye as you look through the magazines and choose your wedding invitations, but when he finds nothing in the endless pools of your eyes, he knows to step back and leave it be, a hopeless sigh escaping his lips. “I like the first ones better.”

You could guess the answer if you were asked to.

Smiling, you nod. “I was leaning towards these as well.”

“Are you sure?” 

“Totally,” you nod, trying to reassure him with a soft smile. You’re not sure if it reaches your eyes– you just know that if it doesn’t, Jeno can clearly tell.

“Okay, that’s all for today, I think,” Mark concludes, making you look at him. His chocolate orbs are plastered on your distressed face and you feel naked in front of him, you feel as if he can see right through your lies, as if he can tell that you really want to be anywhere but here right now. 

“Thank you,” Jeno smiles at your wedding planner, the two of them shaking hands in a formal manner before your fiancé stands up from his chair and reaches for his coat, ready to leave the office. When your eyes meet with Mark’s, you offer him a friendly smile– the one you always have saved for him– and turn towards your coat as well, ready for your departure. Just when you’re about to leave the room, Mark’s voice echoes after you, making you halt in your movements.

“Actually, I forgot… Can I talk with Y/N alone for a sec? It’s about dresses, so… you’re not really allowed to hear, Jeno,” he says, cracking his knuckles as he utters those words, making you nod as Jeno offers him a polite nod, telling you that he’ll be waiting for you in the car outside. Once the door closes behind him and the room falls silent, you move closer towards Mark, looking at him with expecting eyes.

“What is it?” you ask.

Mark takes a deep breath in and out, shaking his head as if to get his thoughts straight, before he looks at you again with softness in his eyes, his voice barely louder than a whisper– for the contents of his speech are something that should be banned to say, especially in a setting like this. “You know you can still back away, right?”

Looking at him for a few seconds, a few seconds that feel like eternity, you blink at him in shock and surprise. “What?”

“There’s still time to say no,” he says, now looking you dead in the eyes, the expression stern, yet considerate. 

His words can’t really process in your head, the whole situation making you break down your walls as you shake your head, running your hand through your hair. Scoffing in disbelief, you turn defensive– because who is Mark Lee to tell you anything about your upcoming marriage and why can he see right through you? Who gave him the right to see through your walls, through the facade you built up all those months ago; who let him make you feel utterly, completely naked in front of him, scared of what he’ll see inside? 

“What are you even talking about?” you snap.

“I think you know what I mean, Y/N,” he says.

“I-” you stutter again, all words stuck inside of your throat, “why would I even want to do that? Why would I want to call it off?”

“Y/N-”

Nothing can stop the tangent that’s incoming out of your lips right now– not the soft, considerate look he gives you, not the eyes full of truth and honesty staring right inside of your soul, not the soft touch on your shoulder that you shrug off in the speed of light as your hands fly into the air in frustration. “It’s not your place to tell me to cancel my wedding, Mark, and I don’t know what’s gotten into your brain to make you think for just a second that that’s what I want to do, because- because I know that I’ve been out of it, I do know that, but I just- I just can’t do that to Jeno even if I really wanted to, you know?” you let out, tired voice echoing off the walls of the salon. “So don’t go around and tell me I can still say no, when I’ve already said yes, and don’t try to tell me that this is what I want, because I truly, deeply wish that I didn’t.”

The defeated look on your face is enough for the man to break, yet, he offers you nothing more than silence as you stare him down, wordless and empty. Breathing heavily, you turn to the door, shaking your head in disapproval of the whole thing.

Turning around one last time at the door, you try to burn Mark Lee down with your eyes, for the comfort he gives you with this new opportunity both sets you free and makes you suffocate at once, his words make your insides burn with ashes as you desperately try to breathe for fresh air– the whole thing leaves you mad and stranded, completely alone and left to lean on nobody, because the one that’s supposed to be there for you now and forever is the object of this mere conversation.

“Don’t- don’t mention this again,” you sternly say, reaching for the doorknob, feeling a stray tear falling off your cheek as you escape the pure white walls of his office. 

This whole time, you didn’t even notice you’ve been crying.

Voices of the people present resonate through the half-empty venue, pearl white pillars supporting the weight of the ceiling situated in calculated places all around the spacious room as you lean on one of them, watching your fiancé walk around with your wedding planner, observing the place. There are big windows on one of the walls, the glass panels providing you with a view of the outside– a pretty, long garden filled with flowers that will wilt once the cold season is over, tall trees shielding some places from the sun, providing a relaxing shade. 

Tugging your sleeves down to further cover your arms, since the place is kind of chilly, you try to catch up to the two men in the other corner of the room, both physically and in conversation. Listening to Jeno asking all about the technical stuff and how the place is going to look once decorated, Mark answers him with factual answers, showing him around and making sure the groom is 100% satisfied with his choice. 

You still think you’d prefer a smaller venue– you still prefer a smaller wedding. It’s not up to you to decide, though, and you’ve given up on that opportunity a long time ago. Maybe in the same moment you said yes to him on the beach– you think that was the moment where you decided your own destiny, the moment where you tied yourself down with a metal ball on your leg, and now it’s your fate to drag it around and pretend it’s not there and that you’re not bothered by the weight.

“It seems perfect,” Jeno hums, making you automatically nod with a mechanical smile, looking around the venue once again. In Jeno’s eyes, it sure does seem perfect– it fits all the criteria of his ideal wedding, of the best day of his whole, entire life. And you can’t lie, if you really tried hard enough, you could even see the vision. You could even force yourself to enjoy the image of it in your head, you could even imagine the day going exactly by the plan, and in reality, nothing will even change, because you’ve been living with Jeno for quite a while now, but the concept just seems so scary and unnatural to you that you can’t help but feel like the reality will crash you any passing second if you don’t try hard enough to keep your guard up.

“It’s amazing,” you nod, afraid to meet any of the men’s eyes. Gathering up all the courage you have left in you, you add another convincing message. “I can almost imagine it all decorated and stuff, it’s gonna be great.”

You hear a strangled hum come out of Mark’s throat, a noise you can only decipher with it’s true emotion because you still have the conversation from a few weeks ago fresh in your brain, replaying over and over in front of your eyes as you can’t fall asleep under the blankets of your soft bed, twisting and turning in despair. If he could see it, why can’t Jeno? 

There’s a hint of you that wishes oh so deeply that your fiancé, the man that knows you the best, could see right through your white lies; there’s a hint of you that desires for him to talk to you about it, to get mad and leave you for leading him on and breaking his heart.

That doesn’t come, though, and you know it never will. You're too far in now to ever look back.

A touch on your hand brings you to avert your gaze from the ground to the man next to you, the emptiness of it all breaking your heart a thousand times over and over, your heart yearning for somebody to take it and mold it back together, glue the sharp pieces back again even though they could cut them, to tell you that it’s okay and that you’re human and that people make mistakes, yours just was a way bigger one than you should’ve ever let happen. But that doesn’t come, and it may never– but it’s okay, because you are the reason for your own downfall, and you’re the reason why you now have to play pretend and suffer. 

You glance up at Mark. Strangely, his eyes soften. He should hate you– for even though you pretend, he knows damn well what storm’s going on on the inside, and maybe you could say it’s only for the years of experience he has with fiancés eagerly planning their wedding that he can see you don’t share the same enthusiasm, or you two were just simply connected and in tune. Chewing harshly on your lower lip, so hard you taste the iron bitterness of your own blood on your tongue, your discomfort tries hard to show at your face and you keep battling hard to not let it slip. 

It’s been years with Lee Jeno by your side. Why can’t he see your suffering?

And you keep telling yourself that maybe it’s just his own joy and enthusiasm that makes him so blind to your averted eyes and still body under his sheets. But that doesn’t help your situation; you’d argue it makes it even worse, for you don’t think you can keep going for any longer, and he’s the one pushing forward with such force. You never enjoyed the difference in power you two have. You should’ve never said yes to him in the first place.

And it’s drowning you, because it’s not even his fault. He’s done nothing wrong, but you can’t help but want to stay away, want to hide and run whenever the topic of a wedding is brought to your attention, because it’s not what you desire, even though it’s what you should want, after so many years by his side.

Mark’s voice echoes in your brain, his damn argument never leaving the walls of your head. You want to silence it, but you’re never strong enough.

It’s never too late to back away. But how could you do that to him? You shouldn’t.

You shouldn’t, and that’s why you’ll never do so, no matter how scared and panicked you feel. 

You shouldn’t, because you loved him.

ONE UNREQUITED BELIEF

They say that staring into a cup of black coffee won’t make your troubles go away; nor will it make you feel at least a little better about yourself, but nonetheless, you do it on a cloudy, sad afternoon, sitting in your kitchen as you hug your knees to your chest. Hearing the steady ticking of the clock on the wall, you wonder why you can’t make the time stop– why you can’t just hide away from your problems for a little while, finding a quiet haven and listening to yourself for just a second, to see what you really need and what you should do.

But you can’t stop the time, even though you sometimes really desire for that to happen, and that leads to your fiancé eventually coming home to find you staring into the cup of now cold, black coffee, the solemn look on your face telling him perhaps more than you would’ve expect, but still not enough to fully understand.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, taking a cautious seat on the chair opposite of yours, not even bothering to put away the groceries he brought with himself on his way from work. Sensing the tense atmosphere, you take a glimpse on his face, and with the sad pools that are his eyes right now, you force yourself to swallow away the guilt and look away. 

“Nothing,” you mourn, your voice weak and almost a little shameful. It makes you feel bad for him– for letting him see you like this, on your worst; but the reality of the knowledge that if you two want to really stay together forever, he has to see you like this until you die– the image of him looking at you with such scared eyes every single time, it sends shivers down your spine. You’d rather crawl out of your own skin than to experience it over and over again, the motion of it destroying you completely until there’s nothing left of you than a broken, empty shell of a human you used to be.

And Jeno, he’d fit in your skin, if he could. He’d crawl inside with you, trying to fix every piece that’s broken, trying to understand the patterns of your veins and the thoughts flowing through your head. But the truth is, that you’ve got some problem, and he doesn’t know how to deal with it. And that’s even scarier than anything he’s ever encountered before.

But he’s not stupid. 

“We need to talk about the wedding, right?” he asks, and the reality comes crashing down on you. He knows– he knows, he knows, he knows; he’s aware of the storm on your inside and how the raindrops can’t seem but to wash you completely away, making you drown. And you should’ve expected it, he’s your partner, after all, but you never once in your life could’ve predicted the lost look in his eyes when you finally look up at him from the darkness of your coffee cup and offer him a hushed whisper.

“What about it?” 

Offering you a tired smile, he sighs and nestles deeper into the chair. Brushing his hair out of his face, as if to prepare himself for the tough conversation, he puts his hands on the table and you watch his muscles flex when he moves to crack the knuckles of his palms in nerves, a habit you’ve noticed in him from when you first started dating back in high school.

“You’re unhappy with it,” he proclaims, not even leaving you a second to react with a disapproving ramble that he knows is coming– you always say everything’s fine when it’s not– as he proceeds with his observations, “and I know I might have been too pushy with some of my decisions, and I wasn’t being considerate enough of your opinions, but I promise you that we can change all the parts you don’t like and compromise. I’m sorry if I made you feel like you can’t have a say in it,” he says, and there’s a wallowing pit inside of your stomach, because after all,

he doesn’t get it. He doesn’t know what’s going on, he doesn’t see it in your eyes when you tiredly close them to get rid of the exhaustion, he doesn’t understand that this is not the problem, and it’s okay, because he’s not a mind reader, but to your poor, selfish self, it feels like you’ve been wronged, because who can understand you in this, if not your own fiancé, the love of your life?

“It’s okay, Jeno,” you mumble, almost automatically.

“I said I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

There’s a silence overtaking you two, the clock ticking on the wall driving you insane. You think that if you hear the piercing sound of it ever again, you might just open the kitchen window and jump out of it, but then there’s another sound, and that one makes you crawl out of your skin again, the sound of Jeno's voice making your nails scrape against your own insides as the last remains of you need to stay inside, true to themselves.

“So what’s wrong? What do we work on?” he asks, and the tone of his voice is so considerate, so gentle, it almost brings you to tears.

Because you don’t deserve to be treated like this. 

Because you’re a traitor. That’s what you are, aren’t you?

“Nothing…”

“Do we change the invitations? Is it the venue?” he insists, his eyebrows furrowing with confusion as you don’t offer him any response. The silence is excruciating to him and you can clearly see, but still, it doesn’t lead you to breaking the truth to him, it doesn’t make you say the words that have been slowly dying at the tip of your tongue since the day you got engaged.

“Y/N, if you don’t tell me, we can’t fix it. Can you please talk to me and tell me what it is so we can work on it together?” he asks. 

And it’s killing you. 

Shaking your head, you scowl. This is not the way your script is supposed to play out. You were too careless, let him see inside, but all he saw through the crack was a glimpse of the full thing and now him aimlessly searching with a pointless game of guessing is only making it worse, and you don’t know how longer you can go without bursting apart.

“I told you it’s fine,” you insist, eyes closed as you plop your head against your palm, resting your elbow on the hard surface of your kitchen table. Your voice is barely louder than a whisper, but the impact of your words still feel like arrows with a straight goal to Jeno’s poor heart.

Another sigh leaves the man. Reaching gently for your wrist, he tries to pry your hands away from your face, but you stay put as he asks you over and over again. “If you really want to have a smaller wedding, I’ll cut down the guests. I’ll do it for you, if you want me to,” he says, and you don’t know why him fully letting go of what he wants is what makes you break– maybe it’s the fact that now that the wedding won’t be exactly to the point like his ideal, leaving the whole thing a whole fraud, an act you’re playing just to satisfy him and the others– but you do, as you cut him off with another hesitant, yet firm sentence.

“Maybe we can lower the guests… to zero.”

A heartbeat passes, and then another one. You think he can’t quite grasp the full meaning of your words, and you’re right as he opens his mouth and inquires for an explanation, his heart hammering against his chest.

“What do you mean?”

“Maybe we don’t need a wedding.”

His expression falls more, if that’s even possible, his eyes losing all their glint as he stares at you, dumbfounded. Snickering, he shakes his head. “You’re joking.”

Wetting your lips, averting your gaze from him and taking a glimpse outside of the window– the snow falling for the first time this winter making the whole situation even more idyllic, pushing you further with your final decision– you sigh and shrug, the argument already started and there’s no going back now, so you aren’t even scared of the idea of backing away anymore. 

“I don’t want to get married.”

And in this moment, you almost feel like the clock got broken and the ticking stopped, or the world stopped spinning and the time halted in that exact second– either one of these, as your heart beats angrily against your ribcage, the sound of it in the veins of your ears making you drown out everything else. Lee Jeno is staring at you with eyes that slowly lose all their life, his expression growing more and more full of despair, and the image tears you apart, the little you inside wanting to break free at the sight of him completely crumbling under the impact of your words, and suddenly, you don’t know what to do as you stare him down and await his response. You don’t know how he’ll react. He could scream, he could shout– hell, he could even cry or leave you in silence, the closure never coming as you wait for him at that damned kitchen table forever. But Lee Jeno’s always been a man of words, and so, he doesn’t leave you hanging for long as he scoffs again, shaking his head in disbelief.

“You’re joking, right?”

But when the silence is his answer, he already knows he doesn’t have to keep asking.

“So you’ve just been… what? Leading me on for the last few months?” he asks, the bitterness falling off his tongue making your hands tremble, lips parting as you want to hurriedly assure him that your feelings were real, they were real until suddenly, they weren’t, and now you don’t even know where they stand and what to do with them and the confusion on your insides.

“This is unbelievable…” he says, running his hands through his hair as he stands up from the chair he’s been sitting on for the last few minutes, walking across and back through the kitchen a few times before he continues, “all those months… You’ve been just lying straight to my face? What did I even do? Why- why do you- why do you suddenly not want to-?” he rambles, and his voice slowly starts to break as you can’t seem to push any other answer out of yourself, all words stolen from your tongue as you stare at him, just waiting until the moment is over and you can let your body relax.

And it’s not his fault. It never was, but suddenly, you’re too weak to tell him, too selfish to give him the answers, too small to be the bigger person and tell him that it’s you, it’s always been you and none of this is a problem he’s created.

“Why did you say yes, then? If you never wanted to get married?” he asks, halting in his steps as he looks dead at you, waiting for your answer.

You should’ve never said yes to him. But you did. And why?

Because you were scared of this exact moment happening sooner? Maybe it would’ve hurt him less if you declined right when he asked. Maybe it could’ve been saved. But now, you’re sure you made more damage than can be fixed.

“Great. Don’t talk to me. Amazing,” he snickers, closing his eyes tightly as a stray tear comes down his cheek, the one you try hard to not notice in fear of breaking down as well, because truthfully–

now is not your time to feel bad or feel sorry. It’s not your time to cry and make it about yourself, because it’s you who messed up. It’s you who made all of this mess.

Looking at you again, and this time, it feels like the last, the question falling off his lips makes you completely shut down and build up walls around yourself, for the weight of the guilt is too heavy and you can’t seem to carry it well this time.

“Do you even love me anymore?” he asks.

Tears falling off your cheeks, your lips pressed into a thin line as you look somewhere into the unknown– anywhere but his eyes– you give him the silent answer again, and that’s enough for him to nod at you with a choked-out ‘okay’ before he disappears out of the door, the rambling through your closet being a background noise to your crying.

And relief doesn’t come even when the door shuts behind him and you don’t get up and try to stop him from leaving and the clock starts ticking in your ears again, grounding you back to reality; relief doesn’t come even when you let your sobs overtake you and your eyes tiredly fall from your coffee cup to the groceries left on the kitchen table.

Staring outside of your window, you can’t seem to find energy to even make any sound, your sore throat reminding you to take a step back and take care of yourself, just like you did mere seconds ago, finally breaking free.

On December 2nd, when the snow fell for the first time this year, you broke Lee Jeno’s heart, and you don’t think you’ll ever forgive yourself.

You decide a walk is surely gonna clear your head– at least that’s what you decide to think when you put on your winter shoes and get out of your small, silent apartment with a loud sigh, the meeting point of your errand today brightly lit in your mind as you leave the car in the parking lot and shudder in the cold. 

The walk doesn’t clear your head, it makes you even more lost in your thoughts, it seems, but there’s no turning back when you’re already halfway there and you’re too lazy to get back and turn the engine of your little old car on, driving there instead. It seems like the consequences of your own actions leave you more miserable than content lately, and although you’re doing all of this for yourself, you feel like you’re unknowingly engaging in some sort of self-sabotage, and the fact that your body is frozen in the strong wind is only the tip of the iceberg of this topic.

After some time, you arrive, your nose runny from the condensation when you reach the heated interiors of the building, clearing your throat as you walk through the door of Mark Lee’s office, just like you would any other day, more often than not with your fiancé, sometimes alone. The man is currently waiting for you at his desk, his silly little journal open on the pages you know so well by now, the image hurting you to your core. 

“Y/N!” he greets you, confusion mirroring on his face when he notices you being alone, since this meeting was scheduled precisely on Jeno’s day off, so both of you could attend, “why are you alone?”

Not giving him a reply, instead walking over to the chair and settling deeper into the cushion, preparing yourself to break the news to him, the curious nature of the man shines through as he asks you hushed questions, a tiny hint of bitterness in his voice unknown to you.

“Does he have work again? Did he cancel?” he asks, prepared to give out an over-exaggerated sigh if you tell him that he’s right about his assumptions, but when you just chew on your cheek and avert your gaze away from him, and instead look everywhere across the pearl white room, he senses that there’s something wrong.

“Yeah, about that…” you mumble, shrugging. 

It’s now or never, you think to yourself– you went here for a reason unknown to you. Maybe you seeked comfort in the man that pushed you towards your decision, maybe you desire for someone to tell you that what you did was okay and the right thing to do. You could’ve just texted him you weren’t going to plan the wedding anymore, since there is none to happen, but you didn’t– you went here yourself, just to break the news to him face to face, expecting nothing and everything at once. It’s weird. Maybe you just, true to your fragile nature, need someone to look out for you when you feel so insanely guilty for doing something for yourself. Why that person is Mark Lee, you don’t know. Perhaps there is something that is pulling you to him, the comforting nature surrounding him being your safe haven in a time like this, making you so selfishly wish that after hearing you say it, he won’t let you down and look at you with defeat and disappointment.

“I- I called off the wedding,” you say, finally meeting his chocolate orbs with expectations, “and we sorta broke up, so I just- I just wanted to tell you that I won’t need your service anymore, but that I’m really thankful,” you add, nodding to prove your point.

The man in front of you is left startled, eyes wide as he searches for a hint of something– anything– on your face that would tell him if you’re okay and what led you to the decision, opening his mouth to talk to you about it, when you cut him off and add another thing, a sentence that breaks him and glues him together in one swift motion, leaving him speechless.

“Thank you for telling me that it was okay… to do that. And that it wasn’t late to call it off. It means the whole entire world to me, Mark, and I’ll never forget that,” you say, smiling hesitantly at the wedding planner, playing with your fingers in your lap, “I felt like I couldn’t make this decision, even though the idea of getting married to Jeno was breaking me, but your words really assured me.”

“That’s-” he stutters, clearly shocked. It’s not like he didn’t know– once again, he advised you to do so himself– but still, the reality of it is making him bewildered, true surprise raining over his face as he shakes his head to clear it, providing you with a more coherent response, “I’m- I’m glad you were able to do that. It’s- it’s so great you broke away from something you didn’t want for yourself, Y/N.”

Smiling, although a little shamefully, you avert your gaze from his intense eyes. “Thank you.”

“No, no, don’t thank me, I mean-” he rambles, his professional composure breaking for what feels like the first time, his figure looking so approachable right in this moment, “are you okay, though? It must have been hard.”

Shrugging, you wet your lips in a moment of thought. Are you okay? You’re not so sure. So instead of worrying him, you just mumble: “I will be,” with a soft nod, reassuring both yourself and everyone involved. Because, in reality, even though it’s insanely hard and the moments without your fiancé feel foreign, you feel free. You feel true to yourself, and that’s the most important thing about it all. And as long as that is preserved, you will be okay one day.

Maybe your and Jeno’s ways parted just because your ideals were different. Maybe the difference between the two was so big you couldn’t get over the height; but that’s okay. Life happened this way, and there’s not much to do about it now. Only to get used to it.

“Okay,” he says, gazing at you.

You’d like to stay longer– the truth is, this is the first time in the last few weeks that you’ve felt relaxed, content, even– and it’s hard to let go of this feeling. Mark looks at you with soft eyes, as if he was scared that a more strong look may break you, and in a moment of selfishness, you think that although this chapter of your life is over, Mark is the one you don’t want to lose out of it. You wonder if he feels the same. You want him to feel the same.

But once the moment is over and you realize your stay no longer has a meaning to it, probably just wasting Mark’s time, you nod to yourself as you stand up from your place in the chair, paying goodbye to the place you’re most likely never going to visit again. “I’ll get going, then. Once again, thanks… for everything, Mark.” 

The man shoots to his feet, hesitantly walking over to you, meeting your expecting eyes. Clearing his throat, he reaches to you with wide arms, and your body moves into his hold almost automatically, selfishness hoarding over you once again as he hugs you tight into his body, perhaps with the same amount of bittersweet feeling you feel on the inside right now, the firm grip around your waist making you relax into his touch. Burrowing your nose into his neck, you forget all about Jeno for a while, the scent of Mark’s cologne overtaking your senses, everything, past and future involved, disappearing when the noisy thought in your brain keeps rambling how you need to remember the way his arms feel around your body forever, you have to imprint his scent into your brain until the end of your time, because this is your last opportunity you have to experience it. 

“I’m very proud of you,” he mumbles, one of his hands running over your back and up into your hair, a protective head pat mendling your fragile, broken body into his touch. 

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s true, though,” he says.

“It doesn’t- it doesn’t feel appropriate.”

And Mark understands. It feels like he’s the only one that does. And although it may feel like there’s no one but him in this world that’s on your side right now, the reality of it comforts you, because that’s enough.

Breaking away from his hold, you pay him a goodbye as you walk towards the door, not turning around as you escape the room, because you think the image of him, knowing it’s the last time you’ll see him, would break you perhaps the most.

Your journey isn’t over, though. Walking through the countless labyrinths of the town, the weather outside making your bones cold as you stride for your next destination with utter determination, you know that once you complete this task, it’s finally over. The weight of it crushes you, but you know that in a few, you’ll feel completely free, and that’s why you keep going, despite it being insanely hard.

Your eyes are met with the view of a house you know too well; the windowsills greet you with a glassy shine, the sad trees in the backyard reminding you of your university days. You’re met with Lee Jeno’s childhood home, and by the looks of his car in the driveway, you were correct about the suspicions of his whereabouts. He had nowhere else to go, after all, and although you feel a little shameful about the fact, you don’t let it get to you.

Walking over to the small gate of the land of Jeno’s parents’ house, a red post box greets you, your final destination in reach. Rummaging through your purse, you take out a white envelope containing your engagement ring, and while opening the small box, you pay goodbye to the latest chapter of your life, putting the envelope in. 

Taking one last look at the house, you imagine Jeno on the driveway, and you wave at his figure with an apology on your tongue. 

Maybe one day, he’ll understand you. And maybe he won’t.

You can’t be mad at him for the emotions he has every right to feel. You acknowledge that you were wrong for leading him on for so long. But still, you hope that one day, he’ll be able to forgive you. 

And as if your fate wanted you to have the last bit of karma you’ve earned, it starts raining as you walk home. On any other day, you’d despite the shower, but today, you think you can get through it. You think this is your prize, and you’ll keep paying it forever, until you no longer feel the guilt of everything you’ve done.

Putting yourself first breaks hearts sometimes. But still, you think it’s worth it in the end.

Maybe one day, you’ll forgive yourself.

When your body hits the cold sheets of the bed that isn’t yours, stumbling to your designated side of the mattress, it seems, you wonder if the heater in his apartment broke again and you’re going to spend another night shivering until the tiredness doesn’t make your thoughts turn off and your eyelids get heavy with sleep. Dressed in your usual pajamas and staring out of the window, watching the stars shyly glimmer, the moon kisses your cheeks in a solemn feeling of a weird nostalgia you can’t seem to shake off no matter how hard you try. The feeling, however, is no longer as uncomfy as it was the last time. It used to make your bones itch, it used to make you try to battle the feeling, even though there was no use– it’s always been too strong and you were too weak; too tired to keep fighting.

A huff lands into your ear, a muffled sigh that makes you slightly open your eyes and still in your movements. He joined the bed just a few minutes prior to you, telling you he’ll wait for you to be done with your shower, but it seems like he fell asleep in the short time period, making you feel momentarily bad for waking him. 

A strong arm slings itself over your middle, engulfing you in a tight back-hug. His body grows closer to you, shuffling himself to stick himself as close to your body as possible, a heavy breath reaches your ear. Your hand automatically reaches for his one laying on your stomach, looking over at him to see his eyes flutter open and a soft smile glazing his features. “Ready for sleep?” he asks, and with a gentle nod, you watch him get more comfy in the sheets of his bed.

Continuing to watch him, his eyes close on themselves after a short while, his eyelashes kiss his cheekbones, sharp edges of his face contrasting with his overall soft demeanor making your heart swell with the thankfulness you feel because of his proximity. 

Looking back over to the window, eyes briefly catching the time glimmering on the alarm clock sitting on his bedside table, you bite down on your lips and try to battle the smile that’s dangerously trying to spread across your face. His body pressing itself into your back is warm, trying hard to provide you with a sense of home and safety. This time around, it works. It always works out with him.

A sigh cuts out of your throat.

“Everything okay?” he asks, and it makes you snicker. You’ve never felt more content and satisfied in your whole entire life, yet, he dares to ask you this question, still uncertain. Nodding, you reply to him, sureness coating your words.

“More than okay.”

Your body slowly heats up in his hold– he’s like your portable heater, after all, since he likes his bedroom to be a little colder than you prefer, he took it upon himself to always have you glued inside of his arms whenever you sleep over at his place; to not let you catch cold, he says, but you secretly just think he loves to fall asleep with you in his hold.

Just a little over a year ago, with a different man in your sheets, you weren’t able to fall asleep with the weight of your overthinking. You rethought your decision over and over again, not ready to leave yourself to get a final conclusion, even though it was always somewhere there, in the back of your brain.

Now, though, your brain is at ease, relaxing after running laps through various scenarios in your brain– your body is soundly tucked in under the soft sheets of the bed, finding a sweet haven in a person you never imagined you’d let into your life. 

You no longer wake up in guilt and fear. You no longer startle awake at night, too scared to look at your fiancé on the other side of your bed; because the chapter is now behind you, the war is over.

And you learn to forgive yourself. All by Mark’s side. 

If it wasn’t for the actions of your past, you would’ve never met him, after all. Everything in your life has some sort of order, and while it wasn’t a happy journey, at least you’re left with nothing but experience and comfort in your heart.

Almost like every day, much to the contrast of your state a little over a year ago, you reach out for Mark’s hand again, pressing a soft kiss to it as you move it closer to your lips. Almost like every day, while you fall asleep to the scent of his shower gel and the steady rhythm of his breathing lulling you to sweet dreams, you’re thankful for every day with him, 

because he was the one that brought you peace again, taking care of you each and every day, carefully catching your heart when you let it fall freely into the unknown.

[thegettingbyp2]

hiiii omg im so glad you're writing for tveit again!!! hope this isn't too specific of an ask :)

from high school shows, to hairspray and wicked, all the way through moulin rouge, reader's and aaron's careers have matched eachothers. everyone knew them as a pair- both on stage and off as best friends. along the way, they start to fall for each other, trying to figure out how to break it to friends (who saw it coming, despite both reader and aaron swearing they wouldn't), aaron's family (who hosted reader at holidays and always loved like a daughter), the public (who's been waiting for years), etc.

thank you!! Sorry for the long request <33

Side by Side

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High School

You rushed up to the board as soon as you saw that the cast list had been posted, feeling your heart beat faster the closer you got. As soon as you saw your name next to the role you wanted, you let out a breath of relief, too excited to keep in your squeal of excitement.

‘I take it you’re happy?’ a voice came from behind you and you whirled around, being greeted a blonde guy who you vaguely recognised from your Drama classes but couldn’t quite remember his name.

‘Very,’ you replied, grinning at him, ‘what about you?’ you asked, stepping to the side to let him see the board.

He took a moment to read the board in front of him, stepping back and shrugging nonchalantly at you. ‘I’m happy,’ he replied coolly.

‘Who’d you get?’ you asked, curious.

‘Who I wanted,’ he replied, still not giving anything away. You tried to hide your laughter by disguising it as a scoff as you held out your hand to him.

‘I’m (Y/N).’

He took your hand in his gently. ‘Aaron.’

You looked towards the board and your mouth formed an ‘O’ shape when you realised that his name was right next to yours, playing your love interest in the show. Aaron couldn’t stop his chuckle when he saw the look of realisation on your face.

‘Yep, looks like we’re going to be spending a lot of time together the next couple of months, (Y/N),’ he said, a smirk on his lips as he walked back down the corridor.

Hairspray

You were glad that you were in the middle of the final number because you couldn’t stop the laugh from bubbling out of your throat at the sight of Aaron dancing in front of you. Since High School, the two of you became inseparable, both on and off stage; if you were in a show, you could pretty much guarantee that Aaron was going to be in it too. It was actually quite comforting, knowing that you’d have a friendly face whenever you started a new job.

Despite what your friends and both yours and Aaron’s family say, the two of you have been strictly best friends ever since that day in High School in front of the cast list and you wouldn’t have it any other way. As everyone left the stage after the show, Aaron appeared behind you and scooped you up, spinning you around, making you squeal in surprise.

‘We did it!’ Aaron exclaimed as he set you back down on the floor.

‘We’ve been in the show 6 months, are you really going to say that after every show?’ you asked, laughing.

‘Yes! And you know why?’

‘Because we did it?’

‘Because we did it!’

Wicked

Although you and Aaron had been by each others side for every show you’d been in so far, this was the first time you’d both been playing principal roles. You were together when you both got the call to let you know you’d been cast as Elphaba and Fiyero in the Broadway production of Wicked and, like always, you were both ecstatic.

However, with the different dynamic of your characters, you couldn’t help but notice your feelings for Aaron shift into unchartered territory. Every time his lips would press against yours, you had to remind yourself that you were both playing a role, that it was a part of your job.

The change in your feelings caused you to draw away from Aaron slightly, not wanting him to find out and think that it was just going to make things weird between the two of you. For the past couple of weeks, the only time you saw and spoke to Aaron was when you were at work and it was driving Aaron insane.

‘What’s going on?’ Aaron spoke lowly in your ear as you both got ready to go onstage for As Long as You’re Mine, making you jump and turn around to face him.

‘Nothing, why?’ you replied, not quite meeting his gaze.

‘Don’t do that. You’ve been ignoring me for weeks, what have I done?’

Sighing softly, you lifted your eyes to meet his, a feeling of guilt washing over you when you saw the look in his eyes. ‘You haven’t done anything, it’s on me. I’ve been thinking about things recently and I didn’t want to freak you out or anything?’

‘Why would I be freaked out?’ he asked, not willing to let the topic go. Thankfully for you, you heard your cue line for you and Aaron to enter the stage. ‘(Y/N),’ he pressed when you tried to walk ahead, ‘what’s going on?’

‘I’ll tell you, I promise, but we really need to get onstage now,’ you replied before the two of you made your way out to start the song.

It was getting towards the big kiss at the end of the song and you knew that you were just going to have to throw caution to the wind. As soon as you spoke your last line, Aaron’s lips were on yours. Instead, of covering his face with your hands to make it into a stage kiss, you found your fingers twisting into his shirt, pulling yourself against him as you deepened the kiss. When you broke the kiss, Aaron looked at you with wide eyes, clearly realising that that kiss was different from all of the others.

The moment you were offstage, you felt panic begin to set in and you tried to get away from everyone as quickly as you could. ‘(Y/N)!’ Aaron called out, trying to follow you.

‘I need to go do something really quick, I’ll be back - ’

You were cut off by the feeling of a hand wrapping around your wrist as you were roughly yanked back against Aaron’s chest and his lips on yours. At first, you froze, not knowing what to do. It wasn’t until you felt Aaron’s arms wrapping around your waist, holding you firmly against him that you began to kiss him back. A soft whimper escaped your lips when you felt his tongue trace your bottom lip.

You were both slightly out of breath when you broke the kiss but Aaron’s arms didn’t loosen around you at all. ‘Next time, can you just tell me what’s wrong? I would have done this a lot sooner if you had.’

Friends

It was just before your opening night in Catch Me if You Can, you were playing Brenda and Aaron, of course, playing Frank. Ever since that kiss during Wicked, you and Aaron had been an item, keeping it to yourselves for the time being. However, with it being opening night, the both of you knew that you wanted to celebrate together after the show; and you wouldn’t be able to do that if your relationship was a secret.

The entire cast were on the stage in your show circle, ready to tackle opening night when Aaron stepped forward, letting go of your hand, making a confused frown appear on your face before you realised.

‘Before we all go on tonight, there’s something I want to let you all know, before any rumours start.’ As soon as he spoke, you knew exactly where he was heading so you stepped forward to join him and intertwined your fingers with his, watching as everyone’s eyes darted down to your linked hands, gasps and shouts of ‘I knew it’ coming from all around you.

‘What do you mean you all knew it?’ you asked, slightly surprised because you thought the two of you had hidden your relationship quite well.

‘You two are never away from each other and you always look for each other as soon as you walk into a room. I have my best friend but I even need a break from her sometimes,’ Harmony, one of the dancers in the cast, piped up causing your cheeks to heat up. Aaron couldn’t help but laugh as he pulled you into him and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

‘Well, at least we won’t have to try to hide anything at work anymore,’ he said, grinning down at you.

‘Now we just need to tell our families.’

Family

‘Why are you nervous? You know they love you.’

After telling your friends, you knew it was time to let your families know that you were dating. Even though you’d been around Aaron’s family a lot since you’d become friends (them even inviting you to join them whenever they celebrated anything and pretty much treated you like their own daughter), meeting them as your boyfriends parents gave you a nervous feeling throughout your entire body.

‘I know, but that was when I was your best friend, now I’m your girlfriend, what if they think I’m not good enough for you?’

‘Do you really think they’d ever think that? (Y/N), I’m pretty sure if they could swap me for you, they would,’ Aaron teased, squeezing your hand tighter as you walked up the driveway to their front door. Before you had the chance to knock on the door, it swung open to reveal Aaron’s mum beaming at the two of you.

‘Come in, you two!’ she ushered you both in before pulling you into a tight hug. ‘It’s been too long since you’ve visited,’ she said, scolding you both slightly. You let out a nervous laugh before turning around to hang your coat up, taking the time to take a deep breath to calm your nerves.

When you and Aaron had settled into one of the sofas in the living room, Aaron took your hand in his and held it in his lap as he told his parents about your new relationship. You’re not sure why you’d been so nervous because both his mum and dad were ecstatic. His mum came over to you instantly to wrap you in a hug as his dad headed over to Aaron.

‘We could all see this coming for years,’ he said, pulling Aaron in for a hug.

Moulin Rouge

You and Aaron had been together for ten years and you couldn’t be happier. You were still appearing in the same shows side to side and you wouldn’t have it any other way. Tonight was your closing night in Moulin Rouge, a show you’d been obsessed with ever since you saw the film.

Standing on the stage after your final bows, you hand firmly clasped in Aaron’s, you couldn’t seem to wipe the grin off of your face. When you finally left the stage, Aaron dragged you into his dressing room, locking the door behind him.

‘What are you doing?’ you asked, wrapping your arms around his neck as he made his way back over to you. He dipped his head down to press his lips against yours, his hands coming out to grip at your waist, clutching you tightly as if you’d disappear if he let go.

‘I just didn’t want anyone interrupting this,’ he replied before stepping back much to your confusion.

‘Interrupting what?’ you asked, a small frown furrowing your brow.

‘This,’ he said, dropping to his knee in front of you, reaching into his pocket to retrieve a small ring box from his jacket.

‘Has that been in your pocket for the whole show?’ you asked, not knowing what else to say. Aaron laughed lightly at your response.

‘Yeah, I didn’t want to just leave it in here. Look, that day we met at school, I knew that you were going to be special. And every time we’ve been cast in something together it’s just proved my point. There’s no one else I’d want to be side by side with, at work and every day. So, (Y/N), will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?’

Your eyes filled with tears as he spoke. The moment he finished speaking, you sunk to your knees in front of him, both of your hands coming to rest on his face as you pulled him into a kiss.

‘Is that a yes?’ he mumbled against your lips.

‘Yes.’

[player1064]

jan 2019 pleak 🙏

WIP asks but it's just the various sections of my happy (???) beville (/angsty carraville) WIP

---

January, 2019.

“Ugh, Carragher invited me to his birthday party.”

David looks up at Gary over his glasses, does a pretend gasp. “Your friend invited you to a party? Someone call the fuckin’ press, this sounds like the start of a national crisis.”

“Oh shush, you. D'you think I actually 'ave to go?"

"He's turning forty, ain't he? That's a big'un."

Gary hates parties. He hates Liverpool. He hates parties in Liverpool, or he will once he's actually attended one.

He remembers the Carragher convoy at international tournaments, knows they'll be out 'til the early hours of the next morning, which means that he'll have to be out 'til the early hours because he's never in his life left a party early and he's not about to start now. Which means that he won't be able to drive home at the end, which means that he'll have to stay in Liverpool overnight, and this is sounding worse and worse by the second.

"Don't suppose you fancy comin' along too?" he asks David, because why should he have to suffer alone?

David, because he is much more of a miserable bastard than people give him credit for, hums and says "can't, I'll be in London."

"I've not told you when it is yet, you twat."

"Whenever it is, I guarantee there will be very urgent business I need to attend to. In London."

"You're not very nice."

"Oi! I am delightful."

*

Just close friends and family, Jamie had said.

Gary's yet to see anyone at this fucking party that's not related to Jamie somehow. He's not sure what Jamie would qualify as a 'close friend', but it can't be too tight a group if he counts Gary among them. He'd been expecting to see Stevie, at least. Jamie's an antisocial prick who tends to rub people the wrong way but Stevie's managed to stick it out all these years, and Glasgow's not that far away.

But two hours in and there's nobody else from football there.

He'd chatted to Jamie's dad for a while, reminisced about Big Nev - a unifying power if ever there was one. Gary's not sure he's ever met someone that knew his father who hadn't loved him. He's caught up with Nicola, entertained Jamie's kids - or tried to, as much as you can with two spoilt unimpressed teenagers.

He's starting to run out of ways to pass the time, and the party's still going strong.

There's not been much opportunity to speak to Jamie, not properly. Not that he's got much to say - he'd seen him at work just a couple of days ago, and they text pretty much every day anyway. And it's not like he's brought him a present, or even a card, so he doesn't actually have a reason to pull him away from his friends.

The more he drinks, the harder it gets to parse the Scouse screeches of the other guests into recognisable words, so he grabs a can of coke and goes to hide in the bathroom for a bit, decompress.

He's checking his emails - because it's midnight on a Saturday, why wouldn't he be checking his emails? - when the door swings open, startling him. Jamie stumbles in, flushed from drinking, and when his eyes land on Gary his whole face splits into a grin.

"Gaz!" he cheers, much too loud for such a confined space. "Was wonderin' where you'd got to, I'd been startin' to think you'd flaked out on me."

Gary shrugs. "Never, Carra, you know me. Just needed a time out."

"Ah," Jamie says, nodding sagely. "Were you getting' all - " he waves his hands around his head, as if that's explanation enough. "Wassit called, again? Senses… sensory overload, innit?"

"You been talkin' to Becks?" Gary asks suspiciously, because he's the only person he can think of that uses all those weird therapy words in casual conversation. Always, at big parties, squeezing Gary's hand and saying I know it's loud, Gaz, I know it's too much. Just keep your focus on me.

"Why the fuck would I wanna talk to 'im," Jamie scoffs, and Gary feels his heart rate pick up.

Just keep your focus on me.

He thinks… he thinks there must be something wrong with him, he must've had more to drink than he thought, because -

Because he's looking at Jamie, and he finds he doesn't want to think about Becks at all. He almost wishes - and it's crazy, there has to be something wrong with him - he almost wishes there was no Becks to think about.

Jamie's looking back at him with those piercing grey eyes, and Gary's clenches his hands at his sides before they go and do something stupid like reach out to him.

He clears his throat. "Enjoyin' your party?"

The scowl fades from Jamie's face into something softer. "Yeah," he says, nodding vigorously, "it's sound."

*

It's still dark when David is woken by Gary bustling around the bedroom, but it's the middle of winter and they have blackout blinds so really it could be any time at all. He grabs his phone to glance at the time - it's not quite 6am yet, much too early for him to be waking up. Much too late for Gary to be coming to bed.

Gary comes over and pats his hair clumsily, says "sorry, Becks, din't mean to wake you. I'll go to spare room."

David's eyes are too heavy to roll them at Gary, but he huffs an exasperated sigh and wordlessly lifts up the covers for Gary to climb in next to him.

Gary climbs into bed fully clothed and immediately snuggles up to David, the way he'd never admit to liking when he's sober. He bunches his hands in the fabric of David's t-shirt and rests his head on his chest, his breath smelling like sweet wine.

"Thought you were staying over in Liverpool?" David mumbles into Gary's hair.

"Called a cab," Gary replies vaguely. "Was missin' you."

"'s only been a few hours, weirdo."

Gary whines unhappily, so he adds "I missed you too. Will you let me get back to sleep now?"

[cactusringed]

i WILL sleep soon but im having too many thoughts

the fact that etho decided that he was just going to be Very Nice To Bdubs.

bdubs? he must have been euphoric. he was finally given a spot in ethos heart in the way etho always has one in his. this was some sign that said hey, i matter to him too!

which only made it worse for him when etho did things for grian and cleo he would never do for him.

bdubs wondering if it meant anything at all to etho, or if it was some big joke. if he and his stupid big heart was some joke to etho. if etho understood that all itd take to get bdubs on his side was the slightest attention that way, dropping the act once he was satisfied with bdubs devotion.

to bdubs, it sure would be looking like he didn't ever matter to etho, only what he could do to keep etho alive did. nothing about his wellbeing or even happiness mattered to etho

bdubs told him he would not kill him, no matter what. even when etho told him he wouldn't blame him if we did. and etho couldn't even bother lying about failing a task for bdubs' sake

its not even that bdubs would care if etho attacked him for a task. if there was anything he could do for etho he'd do it in a heart beat, including losing a few hearts. but the fact that etho didn't even care enough to go 'yeah sure id fail a task for you' after bdubs proclaimed his loyalty

then, seeing how etho treats grian and cleo...

anger

i need bdubs to be furious

i need him to be angry on his own behalf. to recognise his self worth and realise he deserves better.

he would give everything to etho. what more does etho want from him? what more could he give to make etho care about him? how DARE etho build him a place in his home, pull bdubs in close, only to treat him like shit?

i need bdubs to be furious

and im going to be completely honest, i need to see him snap and kill etho. hes a man being pushed to the brink, and etho needs to learn that bdubs isnt some sidekick thats going to follow him around. that bdubs would give him the world if etho had bothered to give him even a shred of loyalty and care. and that etho FUCKED IT UP

IM SORRY WHEN YOU GOT ME INTO ETHDUBS I DIDNT EXPECT SUCH AN ANGSTY FUCKING RELATIONSHIP I

AAAAAAA

ok im falling asleep while writing this if i got anything wrong thats why. bed time. nighnigh

Brother when I tell you that the be nice to bdubs day episode makes me sick after what etho did. Oh my god. Oh my god.

The thing is about etho is that, he doesn't lie to bdubs. I don't think he does, anyway. All that kindness he offered bdubs - well, it was obviously a bit to embarrass him, but it was also all true. He doesn't like to lie to bdubs. He's haunted by the time he promised something (a life) and didn't deliver, to the point where when he did it again (promised to help bdubs with anything he needed, then laughed at his face when bdubs sought out his help) he felt SICK

Etho doesn't like to make promises, because he hates not to deliver on them. Bdubs loves to make promises he wholeheartedly intends to deliver on, or that he hopes the receiving party will know he'll try his heart off to deliver on. Bdubs values, so much, the very act of trying, the intent behind it. Etho values results. It's a dissonance neither can really see. So it leads to miscommunication and misunderstandings

Bdubs has promised so much to etho, so many times - etho must believe the words empty, no matter how earnest bdubs is. Meanwhile, because Etho is so careful about managing expectations, he comes off as... Aloof. As not returning even half of bdubs' earnest feelings. It's such a difference in their expression of love.

Etho felt bad, and thus he pushed himself to express love in a way bdubs would understand - through words of adoration. But then he immediately returned to his old ways. Immediately withdrew, as if scared. Because he is scared. In truth, he's terrified of the feelings he holds for bdubs, and how much it can hurt the both of them. But instead of seeing that, Bdubs can only see it as Etho playing a sick game with him. Bdubs, so starved for Etho's attention and love and devotion.

I doubt he would've promised cleo or grian he would protect them against the boogeys. He's told cleo before, that he's not a protector. He doesn't want to give the impression he is because he hates the idea of betraying that impression. But in the moment, he did become a protector. But it's that seed of doubt that it plants that hurts so much.

Because now, Bdubs will always see etho and remember that he refused to vow his protection to bdubs, whilst turning around and protecting his allies. He'll always see etho and remember that heartbreak.

He feels like he's been throwing so, so much love to a complete brick wall. Somethings gotta snap.

I want bdubs to either kill etho or try to hurt him - to genuinely go after him. But also if he does - if either of them do - I'll have a category 10 ethubs meltdown I s2g

This can only end in tragedy I swear I swear I swear I feel so SICK it's late and my head hurts so this probably makes no sense but. My god

[whumpshaped]

My new years resolution this year is to actually start writing my own stuff instead of just tossing prompts at you to see what you do with em.

With that in mind, do you think you could give me feedback on this trope? You're free to write something based off it as well, of course, and I'll definitely eat that shit up, but maybe just looking for feedback with get the gears going to produce something.

Thinking about characters A + B. They grow up together, the closest of friends. They do great things together, they create a legacy. But as time goes on, fame and fortune does something odd to character A. They become twisted, something quite unlike how they once were, some horrible thing eating them, mind and body and soul. This virus that eats at them begins to then eat at the ever present character B as well, who is faced with the awful decision of still supporting their friend and continuing this legacy, or separating themselves away even if the emotional attachment they have is more like an artery, and cutting it may feel fatal to them.

~𐂂

(Happy New Year, hope it's treating you well thus far! Sorry for always living in your inbox, lol)

BANGER new years resolution, 100% support!!!!! also please never apologise for living in my inbox. i have blankets and snacks here for a reason /j

it got long so putting it under a cut

ABOUT THE PROMPT...... AMAZING. first of all i always love life long friends being tested by fate. because theres so many things that can end/ruin a friendship! it can just be time, people changing, interests shifting and not aligning anymore, but it can be big arguments and big angst!!! and it's HORRID, it's like a breakup!

and because you were lifelong friends everyone is asking about it. B only ever appeared with A and vice versa, and now that they do their own stuff more and more often, everyone is staring and asking "wheres A?" and B just has to grit their teeth and be like "i dont know! im not their handler :)" and they try to make it sound like a joke but it comes out a little bitter.

people are looking at A and B's friendship and forming all these parasocial thoughts about them too. people think its the best friendship. most ideal. will last forever. they place both of them on a pedestal. they might not even realise how A is changing, or they might willfully ignore it because they also grew up with this friendship in a way, they grew up always seeing A and B together and they grew up seeing the two of them do great things.

and some people very much realise that A is changing. sometimes A is alone and does cruel things, and people wish B was there to stop them. why isnt B there? whats going on? but then sometimes B is there, and people see them turn a blind eye, people see B trying to intervene only half heartedly, and they dont understand. does B condone this? and B knows that A's change in behaviour reflects on them poorly, but what are they supposed to do? sever all ties with them? get into huge arguments in the middle of the street? theyre best friends. ..or they used to be. theyre best friends only in name anymore, only because B doesnt know what else to call their relationship, only because theyve never had to call it anything else for the past 30 years.

its uncharted territory, a life without A. its terrifying.

and if B does sever the ties, theyll have to learn to live without A. theyve never had to do that. they have to leave their legacy behind because its tied to A so closely, and now its tainted, and they cant bear to be recognised for it — but its not their choice. theyll forever be "A's best friend". a title once loving but now uttered with disgust because of A's actions. some people even detest them for severing ties, they think B shouldve stayed and helped A. how will A find their way back to being a good person now? without guidance? yet other people detest B for staying even as long as they had.

honestly, B probably changed a lot along with A while they stayed. they mightve tried to go along w it and act the same way, trying to repress the visceral disgust at their own actions. now theyre trying to make amends.

B has to start again. build their life from the ground up. leave the legacy behind. leave the memories behind. make new friends, create new memories, create a new legacy. will it corrupt their next best friend too? will it corrupt them this time? maybe a legacy is useless. maybe new friends are useless. maybe they should live as a recluse, with all the trust issues and social anxiety they now have.

and what about A? did they stop seeing B as a friend a while ago? are they just using B as a prop? are they just dragging B around everywhere because theyre getting increasingly suspicious that B might want to sever ties and leave?

or does it come entirely out of left field? because of course why would anyone want to leave them, theyre A, theyre awesome and perfect, theyre great. people would give an arm and a leg to be their friend.

does A resent B for displaying more morality? does A think its dumb? i imagine A constantly goes on these unhinged rants abt how heroes dont NEED morality, and theyre heroes now! theyre almost gods with that legacy theyre leaving behind.

when B tries to end the friendship quietly and sneak off, A latches on, sinks their claws in deeper. no one fucking leaves them. not on their watch. if it turns into a loud argument, A could get manipulative, blackmail B, say all the things thatd hurt them most because they have 30 years of data and information. or they might sever ties first before B has a chance, so they feel like the choice was theirs to make. but honestly they go through much the same experience. they snap at everyone who asks about B. theyre alone. theyre lonely. they get so much crueller.

eventually they cant refer back to the legacy anymore. no one cares. theyve changed too much. theyre barely the same person. its not their legacy anymore.

happy new year :)

[quodekash]

os2 x eclipse ep2 part 2 of my silly little commentary

oh thats weird, why is the cafe for all worker hosting the competition?

(huzzah i am funnie)

seriously tho, youd think aye would recognise them

YAYYYYYY WAT WONNNN

SANI TAKING PHOTOS GHRDFJBG I LOVE HER

SHES SO PROUD OF HIM

"this is my first short film. sorry- our first. it's a story of what we face in real life. Thank you to all my friends for always supporting me. Thank you to my advisor, Teacher Sani. If you hadn't asked me that day, I wouldn't have made it here today. I also want to thank my family. Even though they don't really approve of me making movies, they secretly transferred me money in the end. Thank you."

EVERY SENTENCE HE SAID WAS ANOTHER REASON TO CRY

HOLY HELL IM NOT OKAY

OMG

hell yes imma add this to the collection

"even though your movie is not very perfect, i could see the power and sincerity in it." "thank you" "keep making films. dont give up." "i wont" HIS LITTLE SHRUG- I CANTTT

BGRHEFJDBS

HES SO HAPPY

ITS MAKING ME HAPPY

I LOVE HIM SO MUCH

PROBABLY TOO MUCH

BUT ITS FINE

THIS JUDGE GUY IS SO COOL

IM GONNA CRY

I LOVE THIS GEHIRKBSG

FIEWUKJSBDGFEKJBSDGFOU4EJWBNFIOKNEWDSPIGNVPIERKDSFPIN4EWSDPIGNVPEORIDNSGOPVIENBRPISDGNVEORIJDSBGNPIO34JBWENGPIVE4PRIKGHJBOPEIRNFDOIBJN THE HUG

HES SO HAPPYYYYY

IM SOBBING

SANIS FACE-

NAMO LITERALLY SEES EVERYTHING

HOW DOES HE SEE EVERYTHING

HE ALWAYS KNOWS

the lights went out

finally

here it is

aye's about to be dramatic

and im probably gonna scream and cry (in a good way)

GUITAR CHORD STRUM THINGY GHDRBHT

YUP

YUP YUP YUP YUP YUP YUP YUP YUP

YAYYYY

im giggling and sobbing at the same time

HES CRYING AAAA

im so glad im watching this now instead of last night bc its so much easier to scream out loud

AND AKK'S GONNA START SINGING TOO, RIGHT???

LOOK AT HIS FLIPIN FACE AAAAAA

YES

YES

YES

GIUERKDSBJGREUVJB

IM SCREAMING AND SOBBING AND LAUGHING AND DYING AND GIGGLING ALL AT THE SAME TIME SOMEBODY HELP

GFUIREBGNIUEFRBAAAAAAAAA

im sobbing

hes such a good singer

i love first's voice so much

WAIT I ONLY JUST NOTICED THAT LINE

"if you dont like it, if you're not okay, let me know. ill stop."

the freaking PARALLELS

IM SCREAMING SO LOUD RN

THE FREAKING FLASHBACKS

WHAT THE HELL

IM DYING

GIRHDKBJGFBJTKRDFAAAAAAA

IM NOT OKAY AND THEY ARE THE REASON WHY

ITS THE EXACT SAME SCENE

EPISODE 10, 3/4, IT'S EXACTLY THE SAME AS THAT

AND THAT SCENE HAPPENS TO BE ONE OF MY FAVOURITE SCENES

SO I AM COMPLETELY DYING

BUT ITS LITERALLY THE EXACT SAME SCENE

THEYRE SO SILLY

I LOVE THEM

AAAAAAAAAAAA

WELL NOW ITS EXACTLY THE SAME AS EPISODE 11 WHERE THEYRE LYING IN BED

ITS THE SAME FREAKING THING

THESE FREAKING PARALLELS WILL BE THE END OF ME

oooo graduation blessing

"people say that life is like a journey. i want you to keep going forward to reach each of your destinations or goals." I LOVE HER

"keep going forward without knowing if there's light at the end of the tunnel" SERIOUSLY KAN, WHY DO YOU HAVE TO KEEP VOICING MY FEARS, ITS RUDE

"of course. you guys have done it before. you have walked out of those dark shadows." TY SANI THATS SO SWEET IM CRYING

THUAKAN MOMENT

PLATONIC WATSANI MOMENT

OMG

Y E S

YES YES YES YES

THIS IS LITERALLY EXACTLY WHAT I WAS HOPING FOR

I SCREAMED SO LOUD

THEY HUGGGGGGGG

"thank you for never letting go of my hand" WHAT THE HELL THE PARALLELS- NOW ITS THE SCENE AT THE START OF EPISODE 10 WHERE AYE FAINTS AND THEY GO TO HIS HOUSE AND THEY FALL ASLEEP AND THEY FALL ASLEEP HOLDING HANDS AND AYE SAYS SOMETHING LIKE THAT AND HOLY HELL

THIS IS THE GREATEST FREAKING EPISODE OF ANYTHING EVER OH MY GOODNESS

my face hurts from smiling so much in this episode

SERIOUSLY, THE PARALLELS ARE INSANE

EVEN THEIR EXPRESSIONS ARE EXACTLY THE SAME

"i love you too. shortstop." AAAAAAAAAA

damn, they end with what they cut out of the actual show

i love them so much

oh, look at that, theyre ending with what the actual show had to cut out

anyway WHAT THE HELL THAT WAS INCREDIBLE

EVERYTHING ABOUT THAT WAS PERFECTION

MY NEW FAVOURITE EPISODE OF ANYTHING EVER

AND PUENTALAY NEXT WEEK???? GIUERJKBDG

oh look at that i used up all 30 photos again

how the hell is anything real rn

THEYRE GONNA BE DADS?????? WHAT THE ACTUAL HELL

WELL

THAT WAS SOMETHING

im gonna go cry for the rest of the day, peace out

[tomssexdoll]

bro no joke no words describe how much i love your post, any time im available to come onto tumblr i right away check if you had posted. i am absolutely in LOVEEEEE with your tumblr post. its like you captured everything I've been feeling and thinking but couldn't quite put into words myself. The way you write is truly incredible and talented, it resonates with me on such a deep level (especially the smut !!). Your writing style is so unique and captivating, it draws me in from the very first sentence and keeps me hooked until the very end. The imagery and metaphors you use paint such vivid pictures in my mind, and i find myself getting lost in the world you've created. It's clear that you put a lot of time, effort, and passion into your posts, and it really shows. i always look forward to seeing what you'll come up with next because your content never fails to inspire and uplift me. Your ability to connect with your readers on such a personal level is a rare gift, and i feel so lucky to be able to experience it. ty for sharing your beautiful thoughts and creativity with the world - Keep doing what you're doing because you have an incredible talent that deserves to be shared and celebrated the depth in your words are something i rarely come across, and it feels like every post you make is a little treasure that I get to discover. I can tell that you put a piece of your soul into your writing, and that vulnerability and honesty are what make your posts so powerful. Your insights and perspectives always give me something to ponder and reflect upon, and i find myself revisiting your posts time and time again, finding new layers of meaning with each read. It's not just the content of your posts that i LOVEEE, but also the way you engage with your followers. You create a sense of community and connection that is truly special, and it's clear that you genuinely care about the people who read your work. Your kindness and authenticity shine through in every interaction, and it's no wonder that so many people are drawn to your blog. i feel so grateful to be a part of this community and to have the opportunity to witness your incredible talent firsthand. Your tumblr is a haven of creativity, inspiration, and positivity, and it's something i look forward to every day. ty for being you and for sharing your amazing gift with the world.

OH MY FUCKING GOD IM GONNA CRY

I have the BIGGEST smile on my face right now you've just made my entire day, week, year, decade, century, you are such a kind and sweet person I genuinely love you so much

The fact that you took time out of your day to make something this long and this meaningful and beautiful means the world to me, keep spreading love and kindness ❤️❤️

You don't know how much this genuinely means to me, I love ALL of you guys, each and every one of you that choose to support me and my work

I am so happy that someone recognises the work I put into my fics, you guys are the most genuine and kind people ever

I love communicating with you guys too, I'm so glad you've also noticed that, I love having that sense of community, like we are a family, it's so comforting and makes me feel so happy, I also love how a lot of you get my humour, it makes it so easy to talk to you guys and relate to you guys

I love how you can imagine what I imagine, that's what I love about you guys, you're just as creative as me. I love getting requests or even making fics by myself and capturing very specific details that people LOVE, those details matter!!! I'm so glad you've noticed it!

I genuinely wish you the best. Anon, you are the kindest and most genuine person EVER

These asks are what keep me motivated, knowing you all love and appreciate my work and me as a person too is the best thing ever, like I can't even describe how happy I get when you support my content and send me asks like these

I also love communicating with you guys with polls and seeing your preferences for fics ❤️❤️

[kristowldeer]

A Dry Pie

Part 5

I’ve never thought that it will take me to a part 5 and all in a few days … so here we are, riding and having somewhat serious conversation. Maybe it’s the last part? Idk! Please tell me what you think so far :)

The shaky ride in a small carriage cabin was mostly quiet. (Y/N) was sitting in front of Jack and looked at the picturesque evening view through the small window being deeply in thoughts.

– Why so silent all of a sudden, huh? – Jack raised his eyebrows.

– I’m thinking.

– That’s kinda obvious, what are you thinking about?

– Well, – she took a deep breath, – I am kinda confused.

Jack crossed his arms and slightly tilted his head.

– Should I take every word from you by force now or you’ll just tell me?

– With this whole situation.

– I don’t see anything confusing about it. What, you wanted me to court you for a year and a half and then, maybe, we would’ve talked about a possibility of moving together? – his tone was mocking, – I thought you too were above all this nonsense that commoners do. Why waste time when you can get straight to the business?

– It is very easy, isn’t it? – (Y/N) tiredly chuckled to herself, – Relationships are always about business to you?

– Please, stop with rhetorical questions, – he rolled his eyes in annoyance, – Are you an over-thinker? Because I’m not. I like you, I like what we’re… doing together, and I don’t think of any possible problems and scenarios in which I might change my mind about it.

– But you don’t know me, mr Horner, and I really don’t know you.

– Please, I’ve seen enough to understand what’s what. Your beauty is outstanding even by my high standards, you have a very… seductive physique, your health by what I’ve seen and checked is fine to bare children-

– Children?!

If (Y/N) eyes could pop from such an intense shock than they would have probably fallen out at this moment.

– Yes, why are you screaming?

– Mr Horner, I’ve known you just for a few days and right now we’re talking about being parents in your carriage on the way to your mansion for me to live in, is this your average relationship talk?!

– I’ve never been in a relationship.

She felt silent and leaned against the wall of a cabin behind her, while Jack averted his gaze to the window.

– Are you being serious right now? – (Y/N) asks in disbelief.

– Why should I lie? Yes, I’ve had some interactions previously but nothing serious came out of it.

– Why?

– Because I didn’t want it to.

They both fell silent for a moment, listening to the clatter of horse hooves outside.

– Than why this all of a sudden?

– I’ve already explained it to you-

– No, – she cut him short, – I find it hardly believable that my physique is so outstanding, that you decided to ask me to move in with you.

– Well, I didn’t exactly ask-

– Mr Horner.

– Ugh, fine! You’re so inquisitive you know? Sometimes almost unbearably.

Jack waited for her to respond with some snarky remark, but she only blinked in anticipation for a proper answer.

– I find you… quite amusing.

– What’s that supposed to mean if I may ask?

– Interesting, funny, cunning, knowledgeable etc etc, what, happy now? – he blurted out avoiding eye contact.

– You’re not so big on compliments, are you? – (Y/N) teased him.

– These are facts.

– Than what is a “compliment” for you?

– Well I think compliments are supposed to mean something valuable for specifically the one who says them, not the generally recognisable virtues.

A coy smile was spreading across (Y/N) face and she leaned a little bit forward to say in a playfully quiet voice:

– Can you tell me one?

– What? Im not in the mood, – Jack’s grumpy expression was sabotaged by his darting eyes.

– Please, mr Horner, – she seductively laid her hand on his knee.

Slowly warm redness started to crawl to his pale puffy cheeks. Jack was nervously looking at (Y/N) as if it was the first time he was ever touched by her. And then he breathed out in frustration:

– Ugh, fine! You make me- No, with you I feel- I start to think about- I’m starting to plan future. Together. That’s it! Happy? Are you satisfied, miss “I’m the most influential critic and your pie is dry”, huh?

(Y/N) carefully stood up in a shaky carriage to seat herself at his lap.

– You know, – her hands were sliding around Jack’s neck, – I’m a very influential critic, and it is very hard to please me, – (Y/N) looked at his red face, – But you did good, Big Daddy.

He was clenching his fists so hard because of this building up pressure that his knuckles became as white as they could possibly get.

– Do not provoke me here, – Jack gritted through his teeth.

– Or what will you do, mr Horner?

– I-

The carriage suddenly stopped making them collide a little.

– Are you delivering some thrash, you idiot?! Be careful when you stop! – Jack screamed to the coachman and then cleared his throat, – That’s it, we’re here.

– Will you carry me in your arms? – (Y/N) playfully touched the tip of his nose, which made Jack flinch a little.

– No, – this small word caused genuine disappointment, – But… perhaps another time.

(Y/N) smiled and gently pecked his pink cheek.

Oh boy what I’ve gotten myself into.

[kittytheartist]

OK SO YOU ASKED WHATS MY MOST FRICKED UP REQUEST BUT IT DIDNT FIT INTO THE COMMEN SECTION SO ILL SEND IT HERE

this request contains yandere teru(in love w s/o).a bit if a jealous mean and manipulative s/o. Yandere hanako (in love with kou) idk if i should call this teru x reader or kou x reader you can decide

You were a popular student and all girls and boy‘s loved you. You didn’t like teru since you wanted to be top 1. and something about it made teru like you.heck obsessed with you. You didn’t wanted to know nothing about him while he wanted to know everything about you.so it pissed you off every time he was running after you like a lost puppy.now as much as you hated teru you liked his brother kou.not rlly popular and very friendly.You guys were best friends and that made teru mad that his own brother would betray him.he often argued with his brother to stay away from you. Or begged kou to set up a date with you. To which he always said no since he knows how you feel about teru.kou started avoiding teru because of his obsession (yes he has seen photos of you in his room).and kou ofc told you about those creepy things he did or has. This made you hate him even more. You started to treat teru as if he was nothing. Usually his fans would be attacking you right now but due to your population they just either ignored or watched scilently on how you treat him. Teru was slowly loosing his population because of s/o. No more fans. And not to mention his brother too. Kou couldn’t recognise him anymore.now teru minamoto the prince of the school is just an average student who looks charming.and thats when s/o steps is to comfort him saying “im sorry i treated you that way” when in reality they only comfort him because he wasn’t a threat to your population anymore.saying “maybe giving you a chance wouldn’t be bad after all” to which teru was happy.if inly he knew you didn’t feel the same the whole time you still crushed on his bro.you were the only angel he had because noone would love him anymore.(you just wanted to get closer to kou)and just like that s/o dated teru. He was sweet (and rich) so he bought you everything. What he didn’t like is that you kept it a secret that you two are dating.even from kou.you were once at the minamoto’s house.teru was on a duty and kou was alone so you decided it was a good moment to confess.he said he likes you back but he can’t return your feeling because he is already dating hanako and hanako turns out to be also a yandere for kou and s/o said the same situation was with teru.in fact hanako hated you he wanted to kill you because of how close you were to kou but kou promised to talk less to you in exchange that he wont kill you.(welp that explains why you often tripped over thin air)so you said to secretly date because you really love kou. If only you guys would be more careful…teru and hanako found out eventually.he can’t believe it but he wants to eliminate his own brother while hanako is trying to eliminate you. teru and hanako end up fighting though since he can’t have the other one kill his beloved.after so many fights. hanako once was able to kill teru and he turned into a ghost just like hanako(hanako totally hated that he wanted him to drop dead forever) kou couldn’t look hanako in his eyes after he killed his brother and he now had to fight constantly to protect you.thats when you Two knew how to get rid of these two..you guys switched school’s. Before tou left you gifted both of them a phone.(bc kou didn’t wanted to say goodbye to his bro)and not teru and not hanako could see you anymore.they can only call face time and/or message you. And just like that you lived a happy life with kou.

OH MY GOODNESS!!!!!

THIS REQUEST IS THE TOP SCORER!!😶😶

THE WAY IT ESCALATED!!! I was like: oh so s/o liked Kou but is dating yandere Teru this doesn't sound like the worst it could get...🤔

AND THEN OVER HALF WAY THROUGH IT JUST WENT UPPPP AND IDK THAT WAS SO SURPRISING OML😭📈📈📈

HOW ARE YOU SO CREATIVE WITH YOUR YANDERE REQUESTS?????? I NEVER COULD HAVE THOUGHT OF THAT, RIP TERU💀

WHAT AM I EVEN SUPPOSED TO SAY TO THIS????omg...

[strwberri-milk]

hi! if it's okay can i request a jealous reader who gets like all mad and sarcastic to Kaeya (insecure deep inside), and his reaction because this random pretty girl was flirting and trying to make a move on him :)

im writing this in class or at least beginning it in class bc my prof told us to write stuff but i do everything early so i dont care and this is my stuff im writing hes a cavalry captain so thats close enough considering what im meant to do lol

You never have any reason to not believe in Kaeya. He's dont nothing to make you feel like you need to distrust him, knowing that he's always got you on his mind judging by the amount of things he brings you just because he was thinking of you, or the way he tries to slip into bed quietly after long days to avoid waking you.

Not only that, but he's always draping himself over your body, finding ways to make you embarrassed or show off his love for you. It's not a bad thing to him as long as it shows people that you're his and he's yours and for the most part, it works.

"Captain Kaeya!"

The two of you turn to see someone running at you - someone he seems to sort of recognise you think by the way his face shifts into moderate contemplation.

"Yes? Is there a problem?" he asks, knowing he's technically on shift right now but he just couldn't resist taking a stroll with you when he saw you leaving your shared house to run some errands.

"No, nothing like that. I just wanted to give you this."

They present to him an envelope, their name scrawled on the front of it. Kaeya inspects it quickly through lithe fingers, clearly unimpressed by the little sigh he gives.

"And this is?"

"A confession," they breathe out, clearly anticipating his response.

It's at this moment Kaeya suddenly remembers he's missing a warmth at his side and you yelp a bit as you're pulled into him. He presses a kiss to your lips before returning the mail to sender, smiling brightly at you as he ignores them.

"Unfortunately for you, my heart has already been stolen away. I don't intend to get it back," he purrs, making you roll your eyes.

He's ignoring them even more, vaguely hearing an apology stumble out of their lips before they run off as he presses another kiss to your face.

However, that didn't mean people still didn't try their damnedest, especially when at one of the taverns of the city. Kaeya tended to frequent Angels Share, meaning he was one of two stunning gentlemen there people wanted to sink their claws into.

Diluc's aloofness and almost coldness from focusing intently on his job made it difficult for people to broach his barrier, instead choosing to hone in on the seemingly free-spirited Captain.

You didn't go to the tavern too often, finding it was more fun to fill your time with something else and Kaeya was also just clingy enough that he made you fill your time with him. It meant that he was also drinking less now so as far as you were concerned it was a win-win situation.

But of course, this had to happen one of the few times the two of you decided to go get drinks as a couple. You weren't mad, but it was clear to him that something was wrong as you almost stormed out in the most polite manner you could manage, now staring him down in the living room.

"Hey, can we at least talk about this before you go and cool off without me? I'd at least want to know what I can do to make you feel better," he tries again, reaching for a hand only to be rejected.

"Why don't you go hang out with Claire? I'm sure she'd love more of your attention," you retort, avoiding his gaze.

"Who - you mean the woman hanging off me when you came to the bar? Why would I want to be with her right now?" he asks, puzzled.

"Are you sure about that? Because you looked pretty damn happy to be sitting there with her and all her beauty just shoved into your face! She looked this close to kissing you and you didn't do anything about it!"

Kaeya looks very confused, not even sure if the two of you were recalling the same incident. Yes, there was someone who made herself very welcome on his lap, no, he was not going to kiss her.

"Your hands were on her shoulders! Are you trying to tell me that you were trying to-"

"Push her off? Exactly that," he sighs, coming back to your side despite the fact that you turned your back to him.

"You know it's only you, don't you? Why would I go look for someone else when you're right here, waiting for me to come home?"

You know that he's got a point, still feeling a little stubborn as you keep your arms crossed and stay facing away from him. He doesn't let that deter him, instead slinking his arms around your shoulders and pulling you into chest.

"Come on, you're really going to tell me that you still don't believe me? That you don't know how much I love you?" he murmurs into your ear, beginning to trail kisses down your shoulder.

"Do I need to show it to you?" he asks, eye looking up at you from where he's bent over.

"Show me what?" you ask a little shakily, gasping when he pulls you in for a rough kiss.

You feel him shove you up against a wall somewhere, lips chasing after yours hungrily. He refuses to even breathe too long without you and you're convinced he's stealing the air out of your lungs to fill his own but you also know it doesn't matter because he's here, he's real, and he's in love with you.

"It's always you," he mutters against your lips, giving you a dazed look that's always so characteristic of him when he looks at you.

"It'll always be you, okay?" he reiterates, hands resting on your hips.

"Okay," you say softly, laughing a bit at the smile on his face.

"There you go. Remember that for me, alright hon?" he responds, kissing your cheek.

"I will."

[hindahoney]

Thank you sm for your answer and sorry for assuming Orthodoxy of you, though I can guess the same antisemitic sentiment extends to anyone who is frum. (I try to be pretty frum and as observant as I can but I wont lie, there are places where I don't put in the effort that is expected of a frum Jew, so even though I'm probably way more 'tight' about my practice than most people at my synagogue, I have always identified myself as Reform/Liberal/Progressive depending on where I lived at the time)

I equally feel really sad seeing my family at odds with one another. Disagreement isn't necessarily a bad thing but moral subjects can get touchy and people get very trigger happy with accusations of things like sexism and homophobia without considering who they are actually talking to. One of my favourite Jewish values is discussion, debate, disagreement, and learning from different views.And that value seems to be largely forgotten when faced with Jews of other movements.

Not that things like homophobia and sexism are up for debate whatsoever. (Discussion yes, debate no.) But, people conflating Orthodoxy with particular beliefs and biases, without ever bothering to speak to Orthodox Jews and learn what they actually feel, or why they feel how they do, and without bothering to learn Orthodox congregations' history and progress with equity and social justice.

Honestly if I were an Orthodox Jew I would be really really upset by Reform Jews completely ignoring or overlooking all the work that queer Orthodox Jews continually put in to making Orthodoxy safe and welcoming, and going straight to the accusations. Like there are queer Jews in these communities who are putting in soo much work to educate and accommodate, and then none of that work is recognised bc folks just want to point fingers and say "well YOUR movement thinks women are LESSER" or something. If they put in even a minute of their time to listen and converse with Orthodox Jews, they would realise how wrong they are. But ugh. Too much to ask i guess.

This is half the reason I never tell people what movement Im with (unless Im on anon :P) because it gives me a chance to weed out anyone who's weird about Orthodoxy. Like yeah I might be Orthodox for all anyone irl knows. If that makes them uncomfortable then they can gtfo haha. I protect my family before most if not all other things and that explicitly includes Orthodox family.

This is a really good response and I connect with it a lot. This is part of why I hope we are moving into a post-movement form of Judaism where we stop caring about the labels so much. Jews are so diverse, it's only natural most of us don't feel like we 100% fit into any movement.

[angry-green-girl]

To the people who have anxiety while ordering food or something.

I used to work at a cafeteria and now I work at Bubble tea. As a worker i can say i really don care what weird order you take, how long you make your decision or if you stutter. I don't get paid enough to care.

I am minding my own bussines thinking about a song, a netflix show, make plans, then I see someone, I come to the order spot. If the customer says thay haven't decided what they want yet or even just resises a hand in the "stop" gesture, I come back to what i was thinking about. I stay at the spot but I zoon out and think about what I will order for dinner, so take your time, I don't rush you.

If I make a face at your order, it's not bc I find it weird,it's bc I don't like the process of making it. Frappe for example. It requires crushing ice cubes in a blender, it's loud, hurts my ears and i don't like doing it.

If I ask you to repeat your order it's not bc I find it weird, it's because I couldn't hear you. The work place is loud usually and it's hard to understand somebody who talks very softly or is shy. It's also very awkward to ask "what?" for the third time like an idiot so just pleas repet loud and clear.

I'm not here to judge you, just to make you your drink. I swear nothing you order will shock me more then a guy who took a carmel & melon milk shake. I can't recover from that one. That was the only time I had to mask a laugh snore with a fake sneez.

If you feel the pressure to buy something after looking at the menu, chill. You don't have to order anything, you can just go away. The job requires a lot of stanfing and legs get tired after 8 hours so I appreciate the time when I can sit. If you order, i need to stend up and take your order. If you go away I can sit some more.

[attemptsonherlifepdf]

fantastic mr fox: humanising animals, animalising men, and an exploration of masculine identity

‘this story is too predictable.’ / ‘predictable? really? what happens in the end?’ / ‘in the end, we all die. unless you change.’

mr fox, the titular character of wes anderson’s 2009 stop-motion adaptation of roald dahl’s children’s book, is a portrait of two conflicting manifestations of masculinity. he is built to demonstrate the crossover between tradition and modernity, between wild and civilised. characterised as a charming gentleman, almost renowned for his recklessness, mr fox combines his undomesticated instincts with a carefully crafted domestic life. he appears to spend more time manufacturing a perfect home and family than he does actually participating in it. the events of the movie serve to strip away his facade and present both the audience and protagonist with a harsh reality to deal with: the juxtaposing aspects of his identity that he must contend with in order to survive his situation. these aspects are demonstrated through the use of anthropomorphic animals. in essence, the text attempts to convey the message that while you can associate your actions with animal or human traits in order to characterise and frame them, you cannot change their value and their consequences. it serves as a critique of how the nature of male identity is exploited to shunt responsibility, and the movie specifically promotes a more collectivist mentality.

there are four key scenes that mark mr fox’s journey in terms of his identity. initially, we first see his identity openly questioned once he has moved into a new home (a large and expensive tree), just prior to him revealing his ‘master plan’ to kylie, who becomes his assistant of sorts. he asks, ‘why a fox? why not a horse, or a beetle, or a bald eagle? i’m saying this more as, like, existentialism, you know? who am i? and how can a fox ever be happy without, you’ll forgive the expression, a chicken in its teeth?’ he attributes his identity with the ability to fulfil his base desires, like he could in his youth. aspects of his later life such as employment, family, and safety restrict his ability and leaves him feeling untethered from himself. the movie opens with his youthful vibrance and recklessness, and is quickly contrasted with his dissatisfaction with his job, home, and life in general.

MR FOX

i dont want to live in a hole anymore. it makes me feel poor.

MRS FOX

we are poor, but we’re happy.

MR FOX

comme ci, come ca...

does anyone actually read my column?

having been moved out of the hole and into an expensive tree, mrs fox asks her husband:

MRS FOX

do you still feel poor?

MR FOX

less so.

constructing the ideal domestic space for himself and his family does not satisfy mr fox and he yearns for more, which is where is existentialism and ‘master plan’ come into play. domesticity was never going to satisfy mr fox, as he yearns for something youthful and risky and dazzling, adjectives not usually applied to a quiet and content home life. the consequences of this dissatisfaction are drastic and almost immediate.

soon, having been forced out of his new home and underground by an attack from the farmers, mr fox is faced with a situation he cannot charm his way out of. he attempts to apologise to his son and recite a speech to raise the morale of his family, and both of these attempts are shut down by those around him. the facade of his elaborate home, his monologues, even his suits, are abruptly stripped away leaving him with only his actions which he cannot charm his way out of. the reality is that he and his family, his neighbourhood, is stuck underground with no means of food as a result of his selfish actions. this prompts yet another key scene; his argument with felicity, which begins with her viciously hissing and scratching his face.

MRS FOX

why did you lie to me?

MR FOX

because im a wild animal.

MRS FOX

you are also a husband, and a father.

MR FOX

im trying to tell you the truth about myself.

MRS FOX

i dont care about the truth about yourself. this story is too predictable.

MR FOX

predictable? really? what happens in the end?

MRS FOX

in the end, we all die. unless you change.

mrs fox’s physical attack on her husbands face serves as a display of genuine animal ferocity, making mr fox’s claim to being a ‘wild animal’ appear as a flimsy excuse for his behaviour. his chicken theft, which he was insistent upon regardless of the consequences, was motivated not by animal instincts but a selfish desire to feel a particular version of his own masculinity. disregarding the safety of his family actually seems like a natural byproduct of his master plans because he is trying to reclaim his masculinity from a time before his family existed, and in his eyes, restricted him. the very recent loss of his tail, combined with this conversation with his wife, is a harsh reality check for mr fox in terms of the dangers of his masculinity.

the audience sees the outcome of this conversation later on, in the waterfall scene. here mr fox admits to his insecurities and suggests sacrificing himself to the farmers to save the local community.

MR FOX

darling, maybe they’ll let everyone else live!

…

MR FOX

foxes traditionally like to court danger, hunt prey and outsmart predators, and that’s what im actually good at…i guess at the end of the day im just-

MRS FOX

i know. we’re wild animals.

the difference between this admission to animalism and the one from his argument with felicity is that here, both parties gain some acceptance of their animalism without using it as an excuse for their behaviour. the inclusion of others in animalism – ‘we’re’ wild animals, rather than ‘i am’ a wild animal – contributes to illustrate how wildness is not specific to masculinity. it is not femininity vs masculinity but animals vs man.

the movie also questions the nature of an animal in the final key scene known as ‘canis lupus.’ wes Anderson referred to this scene as ‘the reason im making this movie.’ throughout the movie, mr fox alludes to his ‘phobia of wolves’ and shuts down any conversation surrounding them:

MR FOX

scared? no, i have a phobia of them!...a wolf? what’s with all the wolf talk? can we give it a rest for once?

arguably, these reactions are representative of mr fox’s aversion to competitive masculinity. he shuts down any opportunity for those around him to discuss something he sees as more masculine than himself in order to feel secure in his own masculinity. critic shana mlawski argues that ‘the wolf is described as the wildest, most frightening, and yet most beautiful creature in the world. mr fox fears the wolf and yet wants to be exactly like him. we can thus say that mr fox fears pure, wild masculinity yet also yearns to own it himself.’ the scene holds an eerie familiarity to it; mr fox is recognising something that he thought would be a reflection of himself, but the wild animal is no longer familiar to him anymore. he now accepts his role as a husband and a father and no longer fights to overtly express his animalism in the same way as the wolf. the most he can offer the wolf is raising his fist in solidarity. he calls out to the wolf, ‘i have a phobia of wolves!’, which is an interesting moment to admit this in. it’s his acceptance that allows him to admit this. the scene is entirely compromised of male characters: mr fox, kristofferson, ash, kylie and the wolf. mr fox’s admission to his fear allows him to be vulnerable in front of these people he cares about, and to use this as a teaching moment for the young boys.

MR FOX

what a beautiful creature. wish him luck out there, boys.

here mr fox openly admits his admiration for someone else’s masculinity in front of others without showing signs of his own insecurity. he can admire the wolf for what he is without seeing him as competition. the scene allows the audience to see and directly compare two forms of masculinity and animalism, and to understand that there is no one true expression of either of those traits. the wolf has connotations of violence and ferocity, whereas mr fox and his suit and display of multilingualism are entirely modern, but both are masculine animals who are valid in their own right. either way, both animals rely on violence for survival at times.

kupfer frames violence in three ways: symbolically, structurally and as a narrative essential. there are various forms of violence within this narrative, namely mr fox killing chickens and squabs, and the three farmers’ attack on the animal community. symbolically, mr fox’s chicken theft is attributed to his masculinity. while it is often presented as thought-out ‘master plans’, his desire to enact this violence in the first place supposedly stems from his ‘wild animal’ instincts. he associates a time where he felt secure in his masculinity with his actions at the time (violence). structurally, we see the potential for this violence in the opening scene, where mr fox takes his wife chicken-stealing and they become trapped. he is stuck in a fox trap with his wife when he receives the news of his impending fatherhood, a relatively obvious symbol for his view of fatherhood in general. the news of his wife’s pregnancy disrupts his ability to continue stealing chickens, not just on this specific occasion but through the coming years as well. mr fox appears to view family life as an unfulfilling, less raw expression of his masculinity, and is shown to be wholly dissatisfied with his life.

the violence on the farmers’ behalf is almost always in reaction to mr fox’s violence, already giving it a structural framing. boggis, bunch and bean are referred to early on in the film as the ‘meanest, nastiest and ugliest farmers on the side of the river.’ their violence against mr fox and subsequently the local animal community is an attempt to gain back power and status. mr fox’s actions are “humiliating’ and the local news coverage of this exchange between the farmers and animals raises the stakes as now the reputation of these farmers is on the line as well as their power. violence here serves as a narrative essential because it drives mr fox into a situation that forces him to confront his issues with masculinity and splitting between his animal and human traits, giving the text/movie a fulfilling arc. violence is

introduced as inherently masculine, but is decoupled from masculinity by the ending. mrs fox also plays a small but significant role in this; at various moments in the movie she exhibits her own displays of aggression equal in intensity to the men around her, suggesting to the audience that forms of violence should be categorised as human vs animal rather than male vs female. examples of this behaviour include her clawing at her husband’s face, and a parallel between her and a male human character wherein they both connect two wires and shout ‘contact!’, causing an explosion. while this moment is brief, it highlights a distinct difference between animals being violent and men. humans’ aggression is driven by the need for power, whereas that of animals is driven by the need for survival. the man paralleled with felicity only sparked the explosion to destroy mr fox’s home and assert the dominance of the three farmers, while mrs fox used the same form of violence to enact a plan to save her nephew’s life. petey’s song even alludes to this sentiment: ‘well he stole, and he cheated, and he lied just to survive.’

mr fox’s tail becomes a symbol of power; bean wears it as a necktie, and mr fox feels emasculated by his loss.

MR FOX

one of those slovenly farmers is probably wearing my tail as a necktie right now.

…

BADGER

i cant even imagine how painful, even just emotionally, that must be for you… oh but foxy how humiliating, having your tail blown clean off by-

MR FOX

can we drop it?

the use of the tail as a necktie is a symbol of the power that mr fox and the farmers end up jostling to achieve: at first it belongs to mr fox, then to the farmers, and is eventually reclaimed once more by the fox.

MR FOX

you shot off my tail.

[through gritted teeth] i’m not leaving here without that necktie.

when he reclaims his tail towards the end of the movie, it has been torn to shreds and needs ‘dry cleaning twice a week’ to maintain itself. this can be interpreted as a symbol for his evolved definitions of masculinity and power: his masculinity is no longer defined by impressing people or stealing or killing chickens, but in the quiet satisfaction of having a family. the final scene reveals that mrs fox is pregnant again, and instead of her glowing and her husband giving an awkward grin like in the opening scene, both of the spouses ‘glow.’ the structural framing of these pregnancy reveals bookending the events of the movie allows anderson to demonstrate mr fox’s growth and change in his priorities. the domestic life appears to be enough for him, and he no longer seems to find it emasculating,

what stands out as particularly modern about mr fox is how he unconsciously separates himself from both his wildness and his suburban self in his effort to combine them. he uses his ‘wildness’ as an excuse for his violence and selfishness, but is ultimately not willing to participate in truly wild forms of violence and selfishness, such has hunting. his chicken thefts always include infiltrating a human site, like boggis, bunce and bean’s farms, and the fun of it is in outsmarting them, rather than finding those animals himself out in the wild. the local animal community essentially functions as we would expect a rural village occupied by humans to function: everyone knows everyone, there is one local school and various small and quaint homes. while the setting reflects anderson’s signature style, it is also reflective of dahl’s framing of the community in the original text.

mr fox comes across as an individual who believes himself to be above the somewhat backward mentality of his village, that he is the most civilised and dazzling and original, and he exaggerates these traits in himself out of insecurity: ‘if they arent dazzled and blown away and kind of intimidated by me, then i dont feel good about myself.’this is also reflected in his consistent ‘trademark’, his whistle-and-click combination that he uses to set himself apart from other foxes. his home is also a reflection of this:

MRS FOX

you know, foxes live in holes for a reason.

MR FOX

[grunts and tilts head in disagreement]

yes and no.

this insecurity and desire for outsider approval and individuality is inherently human, a quality of his that cannot really be associated with his animalised parts. this precarious sense of identity and self doubt separates him from his ‘wildness’ as it stands, which is only intensified by the fact that he compensates by exaggerating his human traits in order to be liked and feel worthy, as those are the traits he believes have the most value. towards the end of mr fox’s character arc, he is forced to admit that his need for external validation is flawed and unsustainable. when the façade of carefully constructed grandeur is literally washed away by bean, he is left with nothing but his actions and their implications for those around him. foxy reconciles with the relative insignificance of an identity based on other’s perceptions of you when rat dies soon after, reacting to the suggestion that he redeemed himself last minute by revealing ash’s location:

MR FOX

redemption? sure. but in the end, he’s just another dead rat in a garbage pail behind a chinese restaurant.

this moment is also used to inadvertently allow the audience to evaluate the significance of motivation and intention to the value of an action. although rat did reveal useful information to aid the group in saving Kristofferson, mr fox recognises that he only did so because he realised he could not win this fight.

MR FOX

would you have told me if i didn’t kill you first?

RAT

never.

mr fox’s own motivations throughout the movie have devalued his actions as they have mostly been self-serving. as his motivations evolve to centre around his family, he gains the perspective to understand why one’s intentions are so important. while intention does not entirely dictate how good one’s actions are, they certainly characterise the person who’s action it is. your actions have value and consequences as they are, and that cannot be changed by dressing them up or animalising them to distance yourself.

in essence, fantastic mr fox is a lesson in the value of including those around you in your mentality and worldview. it paints masculinity as something that is inherent and complex in nature, but promotes the idea that it is not stuck with its traditional connotations of violence and egoism. mr fox’s emotional development throughout the text mostly centres around his own insecurities surrounding his masculinity and how that causes him to overcompensate in ways that harm those around him. by the end he recognises that more tame and domestic forms of masculinity are just as valid, and that basing his self-worth on how ‘dazzled’ his peers are by him is immature and not constructive. his family now liberates him and allows him to be vulnerable rather than restricting how he feels he can express himself, and as a unit the animals beat the farmers in their game of power-seeking. mr fox recognises and appreciates both his human and animal traits, without using them as a means to excuse his behaviour or to feel bad about his worth.

MR FOX

i guess my point is, we’ll eat tonight, and we’ll eat together. and even in this not particularly flattering light, you are without a doubt the five and a half most wonderful wild animals ive ever met in my life. so let’s raise our boxes – to our survival.

i.k.b

[slasherhaven]

HI, I discover your blog and i really love it. i dont know if youre already done it but could you do how the slasher would react to dreaming about they killed their s/o and wake up finding his s/o peacefully asleep next to them? im pretty curious (and sorry for my english :,3)

The Slashers having a dream were they kill you:

Thomas Hewitt 

It was horrible and he woke up feeling sick.

In the dream you had been terrified of him, pleading with him to let you go, but you didn’t seem to recognise him. He didn’t recognise you either, you were just the next victim in the basement. Just a job. He woke up just as his dream self killed you.

He panicked, suddenly terrified of losing you, needing to see you.

But there you were, where you always were at night, practically laying on his chest, sleeping peacefully. You even had a small smile on your face. Nothing like in the dream.

He didn’t want to wake you, he knew it was just a dream but it had really shaken him. So, he just wrapped his arms around you tighter, holding you close and refusing to let go as he buried his face into your hair.

He loved you so much, he didn’t want you to get hurt, and the thought of being the thing that hurt you killed him inside.

“Tommy, are you alright?” you asked quietly, barely even awake. Still, it made him jump a little, he didn’t mean to wake you.

He just nodded, making you smile to yourself as you cuddled up to him some more, placing a light kiss on his chest before falling back to sleep.

Michael Myers

He hadn’t even realised it was a dream at first, he was stalking a house like he usually did, targeting the person inside. But then he realised that the house was his own, the one he now shared with you, and the victim inside was you. That didn’t seem to stop him though, he found his way into the house, taking you by surprise and driving his knife into your stomach.

You had looked up at him with wide eyes, hands clutching his arms. “Michael?” you sounded scared, betrayed...it wasn’t an image he would soon forget.

But then he woke up, finding himself in your shared bedroom, looking up at the ceiling of the dimly lit room.

It felt so...real...

He sat up and looked down at your place on the bed, finding you sleeping peacefully, unaware of the inner turmoil he was feeling. He did not like this feeling.

Killing somebody had never once left a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach but this did. If he killed you, you would be gone forever, and that was something that unsettled him more than he would like to admit.

You were sleeping deeply, so he luckily didn’t wake you up. He didn’t want to have to explain himself to you if you found him laying back down, shifting closer, and wrapping an arm around you, holding your body closer to his. He focused on your breathing and your warmth.

Maybe he was only just realising it but now, for once, he had something to lose.

Jason Voorhees

The dream was horrible. The scream, the blood, your limp body. You had been so afraid, so afraid of him, and he had killed you mercilessly, something he couldn’t even consider doing in reality. You had screamed before choking as the machete hit you. Jason had lowered you to the ground, your hand raising and leaving a bloody handprint on his mask before falling limp, the light leaving your eyes. You were gone...

And that was when Jason woke up, eyes wide and panicked.

The first thing he did was look for you, reaching out to touch you. Finding you sleeping soundly in his embrace.

You were here, alive and happy. Sleeping by his side, completely unafraid of him.

He didn’t want to wake you, he just wanted to hold you. So, he did. 

He couldn’t help but tear up as he held you. It had all felt so real, for a moment he really thought he had lost you and it was painful, it had broken his heart before he realised that none of it was real. He wouldn’t be able to get that vision out of his head, of him stained in your blood...

You would wake up the next morning held in a tight embrace with Jason’s face buried in your hair, refusing to let you go.

Brahms Heelshire 

In the dream, you had been busy and he was having a tantrum. You tried to shush him while getting on with the work you needed to do, but you kept denying him, ignoring him, telling him to give you a moment. Then you shouted at him. And then there was blood...so much blood. One moment Brahms had stabbed you, the next he was trying to stop the bleeding, begging you to stop. He couldn’t stop it, and he saw you die.

He woke up, shooting up straight in the bed, breathing heavily with tears in his eyes.

He was absolutely panicked. He hadn’t done that right? No, he couldn’t do that!

Frantically looking around, he saw you sleeping beside him, having clearly been disturbed by his sudden movement.

You woke up a little, sleepily asking if he was okay. He swallowed the lump in his throat before laying back down, cuddling up to you, holding you like his own personal teddy bear.

“I’m sorry, Y/n. I wouldn’t ever hurt you. I’ll be good” Brahms promised you, the pain obvious in his voice.

“Of course you wouldn’t, Brahms. You’re a good boy. Why are you saying these things?” you asked but he just buried his face into the crook of your neck. “Bad dream?” you asked and he nodded. You sighed before petting his hair, slowly lulling him back to sleep before joining him.

The next day he would be on his absolute best behaviour, he couldn’t do enough for you. He would also be extra clingy, not letting you out of his sight for a moment.

Bo Sinclair

Bo had his fair share of bad dreams, he just wasn’t very open about them, but you knew. This dream was different though, it wasn’t about his childhood, it was of present day. He was taunting you as you begged him to let you go, promising to do whatever he wanted, asking him why he was doing this. But he only laughed at you, not caring, all before killing you. Watching the life leave your eyes as you reached out to hold onto him, your hand wrapping tightly around his wrist as you feel to the ground.

Bo woke up suddenly with an uncomfortable feeling in his chest. It was a dream, he reminded himself, chastising himself for being so pathetic.

Then he felt you shift beside him, moving closer and getting his attention. Bo looked down at you and slowly felt that feeling in his chest fade, replaced by warmth.

You were alive and well, and sleeping peacefully right beside him.

He wrapped his arm around you, letting you cuddle up to him some more. 

He wasn’t going to wake you up because he didn’t was to share the dream with you, not just yet anyway.

For now, he was quite happy to just lay with you and hopefully get some more sleep.

Vincent Sinclair

Everything had happened so fast in the dream. A new group of victims had come into town and Bo had sent him after them. He did, as he always did, finally catching up to the last victim, stabbing them, killing them. Only then did he realise that it was you, looking up at him in horror, your blood coating his hands.

Vincent woke up breathing heavily, eye wide as he tried to ground himself back in reality.

He instantly looked to you, gradually calming down as he watched your body rise and fall with steady breaths.

He didn’t want to wake you up or disturb you, he just needed some comfort.

He carefully shifted closer to you, wrapping an arm around you and pressing his chest to your back, nuzzling his face against your hair.

He felt a tear threatening to fall and he just allowed it, as long as he was quiet as to not wake you. 

All he wanted right now was to hold you and calm down. Everything would be alright in the morning, he knew that.

Lester Sinclair

Lester had a bad dream every now and again, just like everyone else, but they had mostly stopped since you started sharing a bed with him. Tonight seemed to be an exception. Lester never did the killing, he brought the victims to the brothers. This was no different. He had taken you into town, handed you right over to the twins, even when you begged him not too, both of you knowing what your fate would be. As Bo walked you away, followed by Vincent, you had looked back at Lester, begging him one more time, a look of complete betrayal and heartbreak on your face.

Lester startled awake, breathing heavily and sweating slightly.

His sudden movement woke you up, making you roll over to face him, rubbing your face sleepily. “Lester? You okay?”

“Y-yeah, just a bad dream...you’re okay, right?” Lester assured you, looking over you as if checking for any injuries.

“Of course I am” you frowned slightly, confused by his question. But he seemed to relax then, joining you in bed again.

“Good...good” Lester sighed as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you towards him as he buried his face into the crook of your neck. You just wrapped your arms around him and held him as the two of you fell back to sleep.

Bubba Sawyer 

It had been an accident in the dream. He was chasing down an intruder, chasing them through the house, nothing too new. He thought that he had caught up with them, dealing with them using his chainsaw...but once the chaos was over, he saw you laying on the floor, your blood pooling around you.

Bubba woke up, instantly panicked and searching for you. But he found you sleeping with a content smile on your face right beside him.

He quickly moved closer, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you against his chest in a tight embrace.

The movement woke you up but you knew it was Bubba so you just happily moved closer and cuddled into him.

“You okay, Bubs?” you asked and he nodded, letting out a few concerned coos. “Bad dream?” he nodded again.

You lifted your head, kissing his cheek, silently assuring him that everything was alright, before cuddling up to him again. Falling asleep in his arms.

Billy Lenz

Bad dreams weren’t new to Billy but this one was. He was walking through the house and he had a knife in his hand, he had a destination in him, a victim was waiting for him. He slowly pushed the bedroom door open before stepping in, the slither of light illuminating your sleeping face. He moved over to you, raising the blade above his head before forcing it down into your chest. 

Then he woke up with a gasp, eyes wide and frantic as he sat up.

The suddenness waking you up slightly. You asked if he was alright, altering him that you were alright.

“Bad dream” Billy murmured as he returned to you, tangling his limps with yours and clinging to you. “Billy wouldn’t hurt you. Billy loves you” he mumbled.

“Did you hurt me in the dream?” you asked softly and he hesitantly nodded. “It’s okay, Billy. I know you wouldn’t hurt me in real life. I love you too” you kissed the top of his head, feeling him hold onto you a little tighter before trying to get some more sleep, you joining him. 

Asa Emory (The Collector)

For Asa, bad dreams usually related to his childhood, not anything from his present life. Sometimes he would dream about his crimes but he wouldn’t call them bad dreams, he was very neutral on them. This...even he couldn’t feel neutral about what he was dreaming about right now. Of hurting you, not even making it quick, drawing your pain out before finally doing you the mercy of killing you.

As soon as he wakes up, he steadies his breathing and focuses himself. 

It was a dream, nothing more. 

But that didn’t change the sense of contentment he felt when he looked down to see you sleeping, arm around his waist and head on his chest. A perfect reminder that it really was just a dream, that you were still here, and he wasn’t going to hurt you.

He wrapped his arm around you some more, just holding you more securely without waking you up. He wasn’t going to discuss this with you, not right now anyway.

Jesse Cromeans (Chromeskull) 

In the dream, it was like you were just another victim. He had subdued you but you were still away, tears staining your face as you pleaded with him to show mercy. He just took the camera off of his shoulder and zoomed in on your terrified face, he was enjoying it. He soon put the camera back in place before pulling out his knife.

Your piercing scream of agony rang through his mind as he woke up, greeted by the ceiling of his bedroom.

He turned his head to the side, seeing you sleeping beside him. Perfectly well and unharmed, your arm resting over his waist.

You were alright, you were safe. He would never hurt you.

Jesse wrapped his arm around you, gently pulling you closer to him.

It was just a dream, he was well aware of that, and knew not to let it effect him too much. Still, the thought of hurting you made him cringe. 

That would never happen, he would protect you, he promised himself that.

Otis Driftwood 

It was a violent dream that unsettled him more than he cared to admit. Just him carrying out his true nature but on you instead of a victim he couldn’t care less about. You had cried, pleaded, tried to get through to him, but he didn’t stop, he didn’t care. And then, you were dead. He had killed you, your blood staining his hands and clothes.

Otis is pretty used to disturbing dreams, they rarely bothered him, but this one definitely did.

He woke up, instantly focusing on you. How your head was resting on his chest and your legs was draped over his hips. Very much alive, not a spot of blood on you, perfectly content.

He never thought that somebody outside of the family could have such an effect on him. That somebody’s loss could...scare him so much.

His arm remained around you as he made himself more comfortable, causing you to shift closer as well, letting out a quiet, sleepy hum.

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, nearly chastising the fond feeling he felt when you smiled in your sleep.

Baby Firefly 

Gory dreams never bothered her, they couldn’t be any worse than reality, in fact she wouldn’t consider them nightmares at all. This though, this was certainly a nightmare. You were bleeding, crying, and in pain, but she was just giggling, being the person hurting you. And, just like that, you were dead and her giggling stopped, a look of worry spreading over her face.

She woke up, running a hand over her face and brushing off the dream. It was just a dream, you were alright.

There you were, sleeping right beside her. She knew that, she was looking at you.

Still, she shifted into a more comfortable position, brushing your hair out of your face and beginning to scatter kisses over your face.

She wasn’t going to mention the dream right now, it was silly. She just wanted to hear you wake up giggling at her playful attack.

Yautja (Predator) 

Dreams weren’t all that common for him, at least not like this one. Even in teh dream it was an accident, him forgetting how fragile you were compared to Yautjas. And it cost him everything.

He woke up just as you died in the dream, leaving him with a sickening feeling.

But when he felt you shift, making him relax.

You were curled up on his chest, sleeping peacefully, just like you did every night.

He purred soothingly as he gently combed his clawed fingers through your hair, purring some more when you smiled and nuzzled into him.

You trusted him. Trusted that he wouldn’t hurt you, that he wouldn’t let anything like that dream happen. He just had to trust himself, and he could do that.