#Blossom Rot Records

[bandcampsnoop]

12/29/23.

Jungle Breed are a Melbourne, Australia band that definitely have a sound that is a bit less dolewavy and a bit more upbeat Aussie pop in the vein of Go Get Mum, Boomgates, Pinch Points or one of my recent favorites, Soft Covers. And I'd like to throw in a reminder-comparison - don't forget Rush to Relax (Slovenia). They mine a sound similar to Jungle Breed, but with a bit more Flying Nun.

Hard to believe a band that sounds like this is on a label I've never heard of, but it's true. The LP "Wynona, Paloma, Papilloma" is being released by Blossom Rot Records. They currently have a stable of 11 artists.

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

I DREAM, NOW, OF A NORMAL LIFE WITH YOU ; SUGURU GETO

synopsis; suguru isn’t a lightweight. this is your first time actually seeing him drunk — though maybe it shouldn’t come as a surprise that he’d be the sappy kind.

word count; 9.4k (..... i got carried away ok)

contents; suguru geto/reader, gn!reader (shoko calls u "girl" but in a "girl help" way not a gendered way), written w a no curses au in mind, sugu is a sappy emotional drunk i said what i said, sickening amounts of fluff, depictions of intoxication, reader is averse to alcohol, sugu wants to marry u so bad it makes him look silly, lots of emotions & lots of love <33

a/n; this fic has been ROTTING in my drafts for the longest time but its super precious to me and now i finally get to post it!! @softgirlgonehaywire & @hayakawalove ily ty for being interested in sappy!sugu this is a treat for u <33

the bar isn’t all that far off from your apartment.

it’s a short distance, really. walk straight ahead, until you reach the record store that suguru likes to frequent, and then take a right; a minute or two uphill, and then you’ll be able to see the blue of the sea. once you’re there, all that’s left is to look for mellow golden lighting and descend a set of stairs.

which is what you’re currently doing, popsicle in hand, loose clothes and comfortable shoes on as you wallow in the mellow summer evening. everything is blue — the dark shade of the sky, and your ice pop, pastel and sweet, tasting of pure youth. the hoodie you threw on is a rich cobalt, suguru’s in name but yours in spirit. he only wears it when you complain that it doesn’t smell like him anymore.

humming a jolly tune, you take a sharp turn, allowing the summer sensations to curl around your subconscious. blissed out and content. 

you were so, so bored — stuck at home with no one to keep you company, no one to mumble snarky commentary about the show playing on tv, no one to run their fingers through your hair while your head rests in their lap. pure torture, really, being faced with the consequences of your own actions. after you stupidly told suguru you’d be okay on your own.

he even asked you twice, just to be sure, even told you that he’d prefer you to join him on his night out. and again, you declined; because it’s been so long since he had some time alone with shoko and satoru, and you were feeling a little tired anyways. 

so he gave in. heading out, with a promise to bring back a tub of your favorite ice cream, leaving you with the apartment to yourself. did you come to regret your little white lie? maybe. possibly.

but everything worked out in the end.

a pleasant breeze caresses your skin, brushing against the apple of your cheek, and you watch as peach blossoms dance in a faraway park. cicadas cling to every tree in sight, buzzing a pleasant tune, mingling with the giddy giggles of high school students enjoying their summer vacation. it’s been raining for a couple of days; you can still smell it in the air, feel it in the low tinge of humidity clinging to your skin, still hear suguru’s insistence that you bring an umbrella with you to work — just in case.

but today, the skies were clear, and it’s late, not too humid but not too chilly. and the stars are out, glimmering in that fuzzy sea of mellow cerulean, leaking out like little marbles cast into space. falling down, down, down, close enough for you to see. from here, it looks as if they’re waving. you resist the urge to wave back.

peace. bliss. a nostalgia so vibrant you could drown in it, feel it lick at your ankles like soft sea foam.

eager to scratch a certain itch in your brain, attention span zipping from one street vendor to the pop music blasting from a couple streets away, you take your phone out from your pocket. absently scrolling through your messages, until you get to the ones shoko sent you just ten minutes ago. the ones that brought you out here, into a summer evening soon to slip into nightfall, ones that have you walking to the bar you chose not to join them at.

messages that still have you pushing back a bout of giggles, chewing lazily on your ramune ice pop with a giddy smile.

sho 🚬: come get ur man sho 🚬: he’s drunk. sho 🚬: like DRUNK drunk 

you: …… um.  you: what happened to hi? hello?? good evening???

sho 🚬: no time for that. look sho 🚬: [ image ] sho 🚬: he looks so goofy lol

unable to resist the temptation, you press the pad of your finger against the screen — opening the image attachment, just to drink in the sight once again. what you see is a certain man, slumped over in his seat, cheek smooshed against the wooden table in front of him. messy hair, no longer tied into a bun, cascading down his shoulders and back. from the little you can see of his face, his skin is flushed a light pink, and his eyes are closed, fingers still curled around an empty beer jug. 

like a sleepy puppy.

a coo tiptoes on your tongue, but you bite down on your lip in an effort to stop it, just grinning at your screen with pure adoration in your lovesick eyes. 

he’s drunk, alright. an unfamiliar sight, but not at all unwelcome. because he’s cute, terribly so, so cute that it hurts, even when he’s obviously wasted. it’s almost funny — you know their drinking habits. shoko holds her liquor so well that it’s a little horrifying, and satoru can get wasted if he has more than a sip of it. and suguru?

suguru never gets drunk. he barely even drinks. out of consideration for satoru, maybe, or you. probably both. that’s just how he is; you thought he hated fish for years, because he was always so eager to give you the best bites of the sushi rolls you ordered. turns out he was just indulging you.

so, to be frank — the idea of him suddenly being drunk is a little bit of a shocker. but it’s also kind of exciting, in a ridiculous way. new, fun, just what you need when you’re bored out of your mind.

(or maybe you’re just happy to have an excuse to go see him.)

you: NOOOO  you: MY BABY 😭😭😭 you: what did u guys DO to him???

sho 🚬: satoru and him made a bet 😐 you know how they are sho 🚬: he drank like a divorced mother of four ive never seen something so beautiful

you: …. you: have i told you that you’re both terrible

sho 🚬: u love us <33 sho 🚬: anyway he’s been asking me where u are for the past ten minutes pls come i can’t stand him sho 🚬: he’s crying.

you: HUH???????? you: WHY????????????????

sho 🚬: dude i dont know sho 🚬: please come get him he’s being so sappy that satoru’s abt to throw up

you: ???? okok 😭 you: im omw ig??

sho 🚬: girl hurry he just told me he genuinely appreciates my presence in his life 😐

an exhale — laced with deep amusement — drops from your lips and spills into the summer air. it tastes like a memory from long ago.

slipping your phone back into your pocket, you raise your gaze, searching for a glimmer of goldish light. soaking up the scent of the ocean, sparkling on the border of your peripheral. salty and sweet.

no matter how hard you try, all you can think of is that certain someone, waiting for you to pick him up. your mind keeps drifting back to the way his eyes crinkle when he laughs, the way his hair falls over his face when he leans down, the sound he makes when he stretches in the morning.

you want to see him. badly. you want him near, want to feel the familiar warmth of his presence, want to see him smile and laugh and sigh and raise his eyebrow at your antics. 

so there isn’t any time to waste. you’re walking towards that familiar set of stairs before you know it, shoes hitting the asphalt with a mantra of satisfying thuds. 

and when you step in through the opened door, you’re immediately engulfed by a sense of overflowing comfort. mellow, warm lights, the soft buzzing of static from an old radio, low citypop beats trailing through the air. the bartender by the counter gives you a curt nod in greeting, before motioning towards a certain table. it’s over in the corner, covered in beer jugs and fancy glasses, with three beauties seated around it.

satoru notices you first.

a bright grin finds its way onto his face, and he waves you over giddily, happily. barely contained excitement in the motion. shoko’s gaze follows his, flitting over to meet yours — and you think she mouths an oh, thank god, before taking another sip from her glass. she brings a hand up in greeting when you come closer, and you can’t see her smile, but there’s a crinkle to her eyes; a warmth in them that you’d never miss.

”hey, guys.”

”yo!” satoru chirps, beaming in a way that’s so distinctly him it makes you soften. he looks so comfortable in his seat, with a cocktail you know is non-alcoholic and probably too sweet for anyone but him to stomach. giggling to himself, leaning over to poke suguru’s cheek, with a teasing declaration of your chaperone is here! 

and there he is. 

the man you came here for, still slumped over in his seat, unresponsive. not for long. as the lilt of your voice reaches his ears, his eyes flutter open, in a bout of recognition — even in the drunken state he’s in. an immediate sensation of familiarity creeps into his veins, rousing him from his cozy, half-asleep stupor. 

he doesn’t even grumble over the way satoru keeps poking at his cheek, interest and attention focused solely on a certain someone. you, your presence. 

and when your eyes meet his, he lights up.

it’s precious, you think, how his eyes widen, blooming with genuine affection, so endearing you could kiss him right then and there. his face is flushed, and his hair is tousled, and the warm lighting of the bar paints him in a golden hue. so perfect for him, your star in the sky. 

a smile spreads across his lips, big and happy and warm, and you can’t help but mirror it. 

(gosh, he’s cute.)

with a dizzy kind of eagerness, suguru sits up, palms flush against the table to support his weight. he stumbles out of his seat, paying no heed to satoru’s amused huff of careful! or the rattling of fragile glass.

it only takes a few uncoordinated steps for him to reach you, where you haphazardly lean against the wall, watching him amusedly. that delighted smile never leaves his lips, as his arms go to curl around your waist, big and heavy, his jaw finding its rightful place on the curve of your shoulder. 

”baby,” he drawls, fond and affectionate. breathing you in. ”sweetheart. my angel.”

a flustered puff of laughter slips from your lips, stumbling a little under his weight. his voice is syrupy sweet, overflowing with love and adoration, soft in a way that has your knees buckling. a little raspy. murmured right into your ear, sending pleasant shivers down your spine. 

he’s too sweet for you to handle, really, even sweeter than satoru’s overpriced cocktail. and he smells the same as always; a blend between coffee grounds, cigarette smoke and rain, one that never fails to soothe you. even when it’s tangled up with a vague but vivid stench of alcohol, courtesy of the drinking he’s been doing until now. 

you crinkle your nose, but don’t let go of him, nuzzling your cheek against the side of his head. words buzzing with warmth. ”hey, sugu.”

suguru only squeezes you tighter, content to have you in his arms. finally, his world makes sense again. all he can do is bask in your voice, warmth, scent — he’s just so enamored by it all. almost in a trance, heartstrings dancing along to the beat of your presence, your very existence, that appears to him as something almost angelic. soft and familiar, something that feels right at home when it’s tucked into his embrace. where he can keep it safe.

”missed you…” he murmurs, sleepy, smearing an open mouthed kiss against the crook of your neck. ”i love you s’much…”

a chuckle. ”i love you too,” you echo, running a steady hand over his back. your voice is laced with something teasing, but awfully fond. ”you really are drunk, aren’t you?”

”mm…” he only hums, cheek pressed flush against your soft skin. ”’m sorry…” he mumbles, stifling a yawn. he sounds a little guilty, and it makes you want to coo. pull his cheek a little.

instead, you laugh. amusement vowen into the bubbly noise. ”it’s fine, sugu. c’mon — let’s go home, alright?”

at that, satoru visibly reacts, placing his glass on the table with a soft clink before getting up to stretch. he grabs suguru’s discarded jacket, letting it hang off his arm as he walks over to the two of you.

”i’ll help you carry him,” he smiles, always so dependable. so ready to be of service. maybe a little too eager to carry suguru around like a sack of potatoes. 

a smile blooms on your face, and satoru gives you a playful wink. shoko just leans back in her seat, stretching idly. it feels like home with them there.

”i’ll stay here,” she hums, a faint grin tugging at her lips. ”he’s your problem now.”

”got it.” you meet her lidded eyes, sharing an amused look as satoru tries to coax suguru away from you, pulling at his cheek while he whines and clings to the fabric of your clothing.

finally, he relents, and you look back at the table with a grin. ”see you later, sho’.”

a smile is the only response you get, but it’s enough. it’s her, the same as always, still sipping from a glass of expensive whiskey and raising her hand in a silent see you. relaxed and cool, and so very lovely. 

with one arm over satoru’s shoulder and the other clinging to your hoodie, suguru stirs.

”shoko…” he groans, craning his head to look back at her, even as satoru makes a move to leave. ”don’t drink too much. and watch out for strangers…” 

he trails off, blinking drowsily, a protective tone to his voice. worried. awfully like him. neither you nor satoru can resist the chuckle you indulge in, but shoko just rolls her hazel eyes.

”i don’t need to hear that from you,” she scoffs, tinged with amusement and what you’re almost certain is embarrassment. there’s a fondness to her snark, one you’d never miss. 

(shoko will always be shoko. you know that she appreciates suguru’s concern, even if she doesn’t want to show it.)

”alright, c’mon,” satoru quips, slapping suguru’s back with a grin. ”there, there, big guy. let’s get you home, hm?”

just as you suspected, he doesn’t let you help, doing all the heavy lifting on his own. not breaking a single sweat, flaunting his strength as he hoists suguru up the steps — while you do nothing but follow, a light jacket hanging off your arm. 

cold midnight air embraces you, slathering your cheeks with the essence of summer as your shoes meet the asphalt. satoru smiles, a low exhale escaping him, dusting off his hands. ”there we go.”

suguru stumbles towards you, no longer caged in, slumping against your shoulder with a satisfied sigh. blinking slowly, as you link arms, his muddled senses adjusting to the outside world. a pleasantly blue sky, a sun long set, and a string of lamp posts to light up the street ahead of you. artificial fireflies, watching over the town you love so dearly.

you part your lips, and a soft exhale slips out, dripping with fondness. ”thanks, satoru,” you smile, meeting his gaze.

”don’t mention it,” he waves you off, but you know he appreciates it; always eager to be praised. ”can you bring him back by yourself?”

”yeah, we’ll be fine. it’s close, anyway. don’t worry.”

a hum buzzes in his throat, and his cobalt gaze drifts upwards, to bask in the starry sky. a moment passes, and then he’s looking back at you and suguru; a soft and earnest smile playing at his lips. so sincere you want to reach out, cup his cheek, make sure he knows how loved he is.

”i’ll go back to shoko, then,” he chirps. bubbly and graceful, giddy and playful. always so lovely. ”gotta make sure she stays out of trouble.”

a chuckle. you mirror his smile. ”of course.”

and with that, your precious best friend makes a move to return to the bar, taking a decisive step away from you. before he can get too far, though, a certain hand reaches out to hold onto his sleeve — keeping him still.

satoru turns around. blinking once, then twice, in confusion; faced with none other than suguru, still slumped against you. a little out of it, sleepy and disoriented, yawning quietly, but his eyes are as clear as ever. caring and sentimental. 

his gaze cuts to the bone of things. it’s something you’ve grown used to.

”thanks, satoru,” he murmurs, letting go of said man’s shirt. the words that spill from his lips are straightforward, a little tactless, but overflowing with earnest appreciation. ”you’re my best friend.”

a moment passes. the stars burn in silence.

satoru blinks.

then he sighs, with what you know is nothing more than feigned annoyance. masking his embarrassment, the same way shoko did, the same way suguru always does. your repressed, beloved little losers. 

”yeah, yeah. i got it,” he pats suguru’s shoulder, once, twice. not looking at him. ”you’re such a sap, you know that? geez.”

a grin crawls up to rest on your lips, fresh mischief blooming in your eyes. ”not gonna call him your best friend back?” you tease, a soft tilt of your head.

satoru gives you a glare, playful, one you can’t physically see from behind his shades but still somehow sense. ”don’t add fuel to the fire,” he grins, with a halfhearted flick to your forehead.

before you can bicker further, suguru yawns, loudly, closing his eyes and nuzzling into you. you share an amused look with satoru, until he shakes his head fondly.

”take care of him, alright?”

”i will. you guys have fun!”

and at last, satoru turns on his heel, coupled with a smile and a lazy wave. but suguru calls out to him once more, unwilling to part ways without saying his piece. so sentimental, so loving it comes to him like breathing.

”bye-bye, satoru,” he slurs, voice loud enough for the entire street to hear, tired and honest. raising his arm in a lazy wave. ”i love you!”

”go home already!” satoru shouts, descending down the steps with a flush to his cheeks that you’ll tease him for later. his soft laughter is carried away by the breeze, sweet and saccharine.

(satoru will always be satoru. you know that he loves suguru back, even if he doesn’t want to say it out loud.)

with a faint chuckle, melting into the summer air, you tug on suguru’s arm. ”alright,” you chirp, looking up at him. ”let’s go!”

he seems a little more awake now, at least, trying to match your steps. meanwhile, you do what you can to support his weight; he’s stumbling a bit, but you don’t mind. if anything, his weight is a comfort, your arms linked together like a lucky charm. a safe harbour.

suguru is acting kind of like a big puppy, gazing at you with hearts in his eyes. a little meek, clinging to you, trailing after you pliantly. he’s a little dizzy, still, and he needs you to get back home in one piece. it makes you puff out your chest, stand up straighter. makes you feel protective of your 6’2 boyfriend, all toned muscle and broad shoulders, the personification of scary dog privilege. but he needs you right now.

a soft bout of laughter spills into the air, as you try to ignore his heavy stare. it’s impossible, though — so you turn your gaze to meet his own, and he practically glows under the sound of your giggles, that cheeky smile you’re wearing. ”you okay, suguru?”

his eyes soften. silently, he runs a thumb over the knots of your knuckle, smoothing down your skin, thick fingers intertwined with yours. 

he looks deep into your eyes, and a soft hum of affirmation buzzes in his throat. 

”i’m just so happy,” he grins, with a sincerity that has your heart doing flips inside your ribcage. it flutters, flutters, flutters, in the wake of his unbridled joy. it buzzes like it wants to break out.

suguru has this dreamy look on his face, one you can do nothing but admire, painted over with fluorescent moonlight and pure summer bliss. one that reminds you a little of high school rooftops, midnight road trips, what it means to be in love.

you nudge him, softly, with the arm that’s tangled up in his own. tilting your head, teasing words on the tip of your tongue. ”you know, i never took you for a sappy drunk.”

suguru's only response is a cute little mmrn, steps heavy as he leans on you for support. trying his best to carry himself, not wanting to inconvenience you, but it’s just a little tough. especially when he feels this soft, this grateful — this blessed.

a giddy, dreamy smile tugs at his lips. his amber gaze travels up, towards the little pale dots of star clusters all across the night sky, gleaming like milk poured over rich coffee. then he exhales; a soft, blissful little sound. ”i’m so lucky.”

a moment passes, silently. in the distance, cicadas buzz. with a patient smile, you admire him, the reflection of starlight in his eyes. suguru has this forlorn look, etched into his expression, like he’s seeing something that isn’t quite there.

”i have satoru and shoko…” he mumbles, just loud enough for you to hear. as if he’s tasting the words on his tongue, as if he can’t quite believe them himself. that’s how lucky he feels, sometimes.

a nod. ”they love you a bunch, you know?”

(they do. they’re both horrible at saying it out loud, but you know they do. you know that they love suguru, just as much as he loves them, even if none of them are good at putting it into words. perhaps they don’t really even need to, in the first place.)

suguru mirrors the soft nod of your head, bangs falling over his eyes as he does. ”and i love them, too.” his smile grows. ”they’re my best friends.”

absently, you reach a hand out, brushing away the strands of hair obscuring his vision. and suguru stirs, his gaze shifting until it falls on you. like a moth to a flame. there’s something indescribable in his eyes, soft and heavy and tender and true.

”— and i have you.”

a stutter of your heartbeat, a jolt throughout your chest. his stare almost burns, but you can’t avert your gaze — suguru looks positively lovesick. admiring you with a dreamy gaze, as if he can’t believe you’re real. 

he reaches a hand out; cradling your face with one big palm, the rough pads of his fingers smoothing down your skin so very gently. smearing his fondness from your jaw to your cheekbone, so loving your breath hitches in the back of your throat. 

a soft, content sigh spills into the air, like a prayer that doesn’t need any words. his smile is serene.

”my angel.” 

as the words fall, that peaceful smile of his changes shape, shifting into a big, giddy grin. it lights up his whole face. a chuckle leaves his lips, content and delighted. ”i’m the luckiest guy in the world.”

and for a moment, you fear that your heart will stop beating entirely. frozen, listening to the lullaby of your heartbeat resounding in your ears. 

suguru has always been frighteningly good at flustering you — but isn’t this a little unfair? you clear your throat, hoping to regain some composure. it’s tough, though. your words could never measure up to his, could never flow as freely, but they’re honest. wholly and thoroughly. and maybe that’s enough. 

”we’re the luckiest in the world, too, then,” you echo, smiling, words barely above a whisper. willing yourself to meet his gaze. ”since we have you.”

suguru looks into your eyes. there’s starlight inside them, he thinks, shining brightly, gleaming in the dark. with the hazy filter of intoxication clouding his mind, it’s all he can think. you’re his northern star, his lighthouse. his one and only saving grace.

(you’re so, so pretty.)

a pause. after a silent moment, spent etching your features into his retinas, suguru tilts his head. his expression is unreadable.

— he boops your nose.

you blink. once, twice, caught entirely off guard; and suguru giggles. soft, giddy little breaths falling from his lips like marbles, strewn over the sand of a warm beach. his eyes are crinkled at the edges, and his smile is sweet, meeting your surprised gaze with a honeyed coo. ”you’re so cute, baby.”

silence. you look up at him. 

then you sigh, exasperated, more flustered than you’d like to admit. god. okay, he’s really out of it. for some reason, you still thought you could get a good one-liner in, but of course he had to ruin that by being a little tease.

you grab onto his bicep. gaze fixed straight ahead, giving it a tug. your steps are more decisive now, and suguru follows you happily. ”alright, alright. c’mon,” you beckon, slightly gruff. ”we’re almost there.”

when you finally reach the familiar front door of your apartment, you exhale a deep sigh, laced with pure relief. limbs tired from dragging suguru up the stairs, mind muddled and sleepy and senses practically engulfed by a man still clinging to you like his life depends on it.

after fumbling with your keys and hearing the click of the lock, you take a victorious step over the threshold, and a familiar scent greets you. soothing, comforting, a blend between fresh laundry and leftover curry and blooming hydrangeas. filling your senses with a fervent kind of bliss. of course, suguru’s does the same; intimately intertwined with the scent of home. that everlasting, never-changing blend. 

with him clinging to you like this, it’s almost suffocating — but you truly don’t mind. suguru’s warm, and sweet, and being close to him like this makes you feel at peace. his hands rest on your hips, his jaw on your shoulder, and he adamantly refuses to let go of you for even a second. it’d be annoying if he wasn’t so cute, if he wasn’t suguru geto, if you weren’t so horrendously weak for him.

what you don’t know is that suguru has an agenda. one that isn’t just i want to hug the love of my life, although partially that as well. suguru has a plan, one he’s been absentmindedly dreaming of for the past five minutes; he’s a man on a mission.

but he’s patient. always has been, always for you. so he waits, and waits, for you to hang his jacket up, for you to kick your shoes off your feet. and when you’re finally, finally finished, suguru leans in to kiss you.

— you block his mouth with the palm of your hand.

a moment passes. silent, almost tense. in his stupor, suguru’s mind can’t quite seem to comprehend the situation before him; he doesn’t understand why he isn’t pressing a kiss to your lips, right now, why he’s kissing the skin of your palm. he doesn’t understand why you look so troubled, a faint guilt simmering in your eyes. he just doesn’t understand.

all he can do is blink, dumbly, surprised. a question written on his features clear as day. 

”well, it’s just…” you sputter, sheepishly. avoiding his gaze, a little guilty. ”you know. since you’ve been drinking, and all…”

and it hurts, you think. it hurts a lot more than it should. it hurts to reject him, hurts to see the way he deflates at your clarification. like a big kicked puppy. like you just threatened to throw him out into the street.

suguru removes your hand, gently, holding it in his own as he speaks. those amber eyes are downcast, and a soft pout rests on his lips. the sight alone feels like a dagger to your chest.

”but…” he frowns, voice awfully meek. he looks so sad. ”i wanna kiss you…”

a soft sigh leaves your lips, before you can think to hold it in. oh, he’s being so unfair. guilt clings to your mind, an itch you yearn to scratch, and all you want is to kiss his pout away. but you really, really don’t want to kiss his alcohol-soaked lips.

so you settle for the second best option.

”’m sorry, sugu,” you coo, reaching a hand out to cradle his cheek. he leans into your touch, still pouting, and you tug a little at his bottom lip. wasting no time in closing the narrow distance between you.

the kisses you press against his skin are soft. peppering kisses all across his face; ghosting your lips along his jaw, trailing towards his cheekbones, and settling on his forehead. tiny little pecks, wherever you can reach. your voice is soft, muffled into his skin between butterfly kisses. ”tomorrow, okay?” 

and suguru seems to brighten up a little, melting under the contact, exhaling in pure bliss. he fervently returns the treatment, planting open mouthed kisses all over your face, respecting your wishes and avoiding your lips. they’re a little sloppy, but you don’t mind.

it does make you a little flustered, though. with his palms cradling your face, engulfing you, there’s nothing you can do except drown in his affection, the love he showers you with. it tickles — and suguru’s smile only grows, at the sound of your soft giggles. his cheeks are starting to hurt.

the state he’s in is just a little bit hazy. despite his initial dejection, he no longer minds that he can’t feel your lips against his, disappointment warded off by your smile and laughter alone. he thinks you’re so, so cute, and all he wants is to kiss you forever. 

but you have other plans.

and before you know it, you’re both curled up in bed, limbs all tangled up beneath the blankets, bodies pressed together as suguru cages you in. he squeezes you tightly, hugging you close, practically melting into you. usually, it’d be so easy to fall asleep like this. with suguru cradling you, covering your body with his own, warm and safe. he’s like a furnace. 

but right now, it’s a little tough. you’re kept awake by open mouthed, ticklish kisses pressed against your skin, supplied by the love of your life. it’s sweet, but he’s being far too distracting — as soon as your consciousness begins to fade into the fuzzy realm of sleep, he leaves a sloppy kiss against your collarbone, and you’re jolted awake once more. 

”suguuu,” you whine, dragging his name out with childish inclination. ”we need to sleep…”  

”sorry,” he only murmurs, muffled into your skin. he doesn’t stop, though, planting a wet smooch on your cheek, and then another. you squirm a little in his hold, and he emits a shaky breath. ”jus’ love you so much…”

suguru knows that he needs to stop. he knows that both of you need to sleep, that you need to rest up. that he needs to recover from the intoxicated state he’s fully aware that he’s in — but he just can’t seem to follow through with it. every cell in his body burns with a certain desire, a need to shower you in love, and it’s unendurable. with every kiss, every giggle he manages to pull from your lips, suguru’s heart fills up just a little more. 

your presence surrounds him, like a weighted blanket, and he clings to it with a desperation he never knew before you. 

in the midst of his feverish consciousness, you’re all his muddled mind can think about. the way you fit together with him like a puzzle piece, like he was formed in the shape of someone meant to hold you. like you were formed in the shape of his embrace. with you pressed up against him, limbs tangled with his, everything feels so right.

but it’s so overwhelming. 

you’re so, so close, so close he’s practically engulfed by your scent, your touch, everything that makes his heart burn with devotion. it’s beating so viscerally in his ribcage, stirring the protective instinct inside him; he just wants you to stay close, by his side, wants to keep you safe and happy. wants to make you feel loved. 

suguru’s heart feels wet and raw and bare, fully exposed for you to see. beating just for you.

with the alcohol inside his veins, and the nostalgia of the summer evening on his mind, everything weighs on him just a little too heavily. everything feels just a little too much. every sensation, every emotion, every sappy thought. all of it together is almost too much for him to handle.

all he can think of is you. how lucky he is, to have met you, to have gotten to know you. how much you’ve changed him, changed him for the better, how much of him is directly tied to your existence.

suguru never truly appreciated his name until you came into his life. it was always no more than a simple fact, a gift from his parents that he hadn’t asked for. something natural, that he didn’t question, didn’t think about. 

but you say his name with such warmth.

he wants to hear you say it, over and over again, forever. suguru — in that sweet, lovely voice of yours. better yet, just sugu, a cutesy, silly nickname he could never bring himself to actually hate. he just wants to hear you call out to him, with that warmth of yours, the one that never fails to soothe him. no matter how tired he is, how stressed. how much everything else weighs down on him. 

at the end of the day, he’s simply your sugu. and that’s all he ever really wants to be.

with a hazy filter clouding his senses, coaxing him into closing his eyes, suguru should give in. he should fall asleep, let you fall asleep. but he can’t bring himself to stop thinking about it; he just loves you so wholly. who you are, what you do. as an equal, an individual, a little galaxy tucked into a body made of flesh and blood. no matter what you’re doing, no matter where you are. 

and right now, you’re here, with him. curled up in bed, in your shared apartment, inhaling the same air, exhaling at the same time. by his side, when you could be anywhere else in the world.

his heart is yours. that’s all suguru can bring himself to think, the only coherent thought he can cling to and echo in his head. his heart is yours. forever and ever. 

he makes no attempt to stop the tears from pooling in his eyes, even as he feels them cling to his lashes, even as his breathing clogs up in the back of his throat. they’re proof of his devotion, his carefully nurtured love. growing over the years, into something almost sacred, a kind of faith. something so fervent he wouldn’t dare deny himself of feeling it.

he can’t hold in a faint sniffle, either, just barely audible. one that breaks your heart in two. it aches, aches, aches. suguru is gazing at you with glassy eyes, a sight you aren’t used to seeing — but he also looks so genuinely glad. his tears aren’t ones of sadness. you know, because you know him. 

”aw, honey…” you coo, the pads of your fingers reaching out to cradle his cheek. despite your efforts, your voice wavers when you speak, little more than a whisper. ”don’t cry... you’ll make me cry, too.”

suguru places his larger palm over yours, choking on another sniffle. the sight renders you completely helpless — you want so desperately to stop his tears from falling, but a part of you is too touched to speak. too mesmerized by how beautiful he is, translucent tears illuminated by softly flickering moonrays, lashes glimmering like shooting stars.

all you can do is smooth a thumb right under his eye, wiping away a stray tear with enough tenderness to stitch his heart back together. suguru emits a shaky breath.

”’m sorry,” he sniffles, closing his eyes. nuzzling into the crook of your neck. ”i’m just so happy… love you so much… you mean so, so much to me, i…”

an exhale, a little breathless, tears soaking through the material of the shirt you’re wearing. his shirt. that realization makes him cry even more, a shuddering breath that shatters like glass when it drops from his tongue. 

and then, in a voice so quiet you barely hear it, a soft whisper worth a million words:

”i don’t know what i’d do without you.”

and it hurts. your heart aches so sincerely, thorns curling around your ribcage, because suguru is crying, and he’s telling you all this. with such an honest intonation that you don’t dare doubt him, even for a second. heavy thumps of blood rush through your veins; he’s still clinging to you, sniffling into your neck, and you’re so in love with him that you almost can’t comprehend it.

all you can do is press a kiss to his shoulder, chaste and tender, and hug him just a little tighter. echoing his words, in earnest, desperately trying to keep your voice from breaking apart. ”i love you, too. more than anything.” a sigh, full of wonder. little butterfly kisses scattered across the expanse of his neck. ”you mean the world to me. honestly.”

with a smile against his skin, you hope so tenderly that the soft kisses will comfort him, will stop the tears from falling. 

”my sweet boy,” you murmur, lovingly, because he is. the sweetest boy you’ll ever know. suguru shudders when you press your lips against his jaw. ”i’m so, so lucky.”

with the combined efforts of your kisses, the alcohol slumbering inside his veins, and the tears running down his cheeks, suguru begins to feel awfully tired. sinking into sleep’s embrace, like a sailor lost at sea. comforted by the glimmer of a lighthouse, just out of reach.

everything feels right. he’s safe, and happy, and in love. so hopelessly, blissfully in love.

the exhaustion creeps up on him, tidal waves embracing a shore, beckoning him into closing his weary eyes. a yawn leaves his lips, and he shifts a little in your hold. you’re smoothing down the back of his head, almost protectively, and sleep is only a flicker away for the both of you. with the last of his strength, suguru snuggles just a little further into you, nose pressed up against your neck, close enough that he feels the flutter of your heartbeat. 

”wanna be with you forever,” he murmurs, sleepily, stifling another bout of yawns. his smile is sweet and dreamy. ”gonna marry you one day…”

a moment passes.

for a second, you think your heart does actually cease beating entirely.

swallowing a gulp, you allow yourself the luxury of an inhale — and fresh air fills your lungs. grounding. all you can hear is the rapid beating of your own heart, heavy thumps reverberating in your ears. warmth flows through your entire body.

marry.

the word is spoken so casually, so sincerely, as if he’s said it countless times before. as if he’s repeated it, over and over again in his mind, just to get used to the idea. as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. marriage. something so foreign, so scary, enough to send shivers down every narrow of your skeleton. such a large step to take. 

(but suguru says it with such tenderness.)

”… okay,” you whisper, at last. breathless. ”i’ll be waiting, then.”

there’s nothing else to say. you don’t know if suguru is even conscious enough to hear you, let alone understand the full weight of your words, of his own words. but you don’t mind. 

a soft smile lingers on your lips, as you stroke his hair, mind hazy and limbs heavy. nuzzling your cheek against the side of his head, full of affection. dripping from your hands down to the column on his throat, through his windpipe, down to his heart.

”goodnight, sugu.” you press a kiss to his messy hair, tender and chaste. ”i love you.”

an incoherent mutter leaves his lips, in response, one you can’t quite make out — but you don’t need to. because you already know what it means, in the same way you know that the sky is blue.

(an echo buried deep within his subconscious, voiced without effort, as easy as breathing.

i love you, too.)

the sizzling of a pan and the whirring of a coffee machine form a beautiful morning symphony, bouncing off the walls of your kitchen. to your ears, and your still sleepy brain, it’s a soothing sound — coaxing soft little melodic hums from the depths of your throat.

with such a tantalizing aroma in the air, a blend between espresso and pancake batter, you can’t help but buzz with a mellow, groggy kind of joy.

honestly, you're beginning to understand suguru’s fondness for the morning hours. waking up to his soft snores and content expression was more than enough to give you the energy you needed to get out of bed; all sleepy and relaxed and pretty, with hazy morning sunrays kissing up his bare skin, caressing his messy bedhead. 

a rare sight, awfully precious. a part of you wanted to stay in bed and admire him all morning, but the thought of taking care of him coaxed you into leaving. it’s the least you could do, really — after seeing him so sincere, so open and vulnerable. 

hopefully, his headache won’t be too brutal when he wakes up. you left some hangover pills on the nightstand, courtesy of shoko’s advice: just get him ibuprofen and coffee. works like a charm. are you a little worried about her nonchalance? maybe. but you trust her judgement. they’re a handful, but you love them — even when they’re drunk or hungover. 

which is why you’re standing in the kitchen, engulfed by the morning sunlight, in front of a sizzling pan. trying your very best not to burn the pancakes you’re making, patiently waiting for the coffee to be done. 

in your blissful stupor, caught up with thoughts of suguru and breakfast and forevers, you don’t notice another presence coming up behind you.

two arms wrap around your waist, and a jaw attaches itself to the curve of your shoulder. you startle, a little, jolting at the contact — but then you recognize that telltale scent, the familiar weight of his arms, and immediately melt into the embrace.

suguru breathes out a raspy chuckle, amused at your surprise. 

a sigh slips from your lips, content. ”good morning,” you hum, placing the palm of your hand on his forearm. suguru shifts a little, getting more comfortable as he leans against you. tenderly, not too much weight. he’s delicate like that.

”g’morning,” he rasps, leftover sleep clinging to the syllables. the usual smoothness of his voice is coupled with a deep, rough kind of tilt, one that always accompanies it in the morning. your heartbeat picks up, silently.

suguru smiles. dreamy, giddy, because you just looked so pretty, in the morning light, hair still a tad messy. humming happily, swaying slightly side to side. so irresistible. he’s beginning to understand why you love sleeping in so much; getting to wrap his arms around you like this, instead of the other way around, doesn’t feel bad at all.

he squeezes you just a little tighter, hoping it’ll convey his gratitude. there are holes in his memory, last night no more than a blurry sequence of still images, but some bits and pieces remain intact. he remembers getting drunk in a way he hasn’t since he made that bet with satoru back in high school — and he remembers that you were there to take care of him.

a smile tugs at his lips. a little giddy, butterflies erupting in his chest. he’s so damn lucky.

”thanks for taking care of me yesterday, sweetheart.”

a hum. you smile, sheepishly, patting his arm. ”don’t need to thank me for that. how do you feel?”

suguru smiles. you feel it, against your skin, a chaste kiss on your neck. ”better.”

the low purring of the coffee machine has stopped, but the sizzling of the pan remains. from beyond the opened windows, you can hear the chirping of cicadas, melodic and serene. singing a summery tune. both of you soak in the preciousness of the moment, the fragile silence, before suguru breaks it.

”everything from last night is kinda fuzzy,” he admits, clearing his throat. just a tad sheepish. you simply hum, a low noise of acknowledgement, and he continues. ”i don’t really remember anything… ’m sorry, baby. i hope i didn’t make you uncomfortable.”

your lips curl up into a tiny smile. such a sweetheart — always worrying about you. always so caring and attentive. eager to reassure him, you smooth over the skin of his arm with your thumb. ”not at all.”

then you’re taking a couple steps back, moving from the stove, and suguru follows. you turn yourself around to meet his gaze, his arms still attached to your waist, a comforting weight.

a grin blooms on your lips, a little teasing, and a flicker of mischief shines in your eyes. ”you were cute, you know.”

suguru blinks, before emitting a low chuckle. a raspy little thing. ”was i?” he drawls, as you brush his bangs away from his face. 

”mhm,” you chirp, eyes crinkled as they meet his own. you just can’t help but want to tease him, a little bit. just a smidge. ”kept going on and on about how much you love us.”

hands moving to cup his face, you squeeze his cheeks softly. and suguru lets you, too tired to resist, only giving you a lazy raise of his brow. there’s a sense of amusement in his eyes, and something in you knows he likes the attention. your teasing words buzz with endearment, akin to a purr. ”my sweet lil’ sugu.”

all he does is lean into your touch, allowing himself to melt into the tenderness of the physical contact. even as you pull at his cheek, earning you a very gentle pinch to your side. but he lets you have your fun. you’re warm, and sweet, and he’s so in love with you he’d probably let you tug his body around however you please.

still, your words leave him just slightly perplexed. he’s still smiling with half-lidded eyes when he asks you to elaborate, basking in the feeling of your thumb smoothing over his cheekbone. ”us?”

your grin widens, by a tad, something deeply amused glimmering in the depths of your iris. ”yep,” you answer, popping the p. for some reason, suguru dreads the teasing edge to your voice. ”me, and shoko, and satoru.”

a moment passes. he stiffens, for a second or two, mind processing the words. then he groans, softly, squeezing his eyes shut.

it makes you laugh, soft and amused, and he can’t help but smile along. despite the dreadful realization you present him with. no wonder he was met with so many notifications when he tapped at the screen of his phone — he didn’t read through any of them, but now he’s apprehensive to do so at all. shoko and satoru can be so goddamn obnoxious when they feel as if they have blackmail on him.

he can see it now, in his mind’s eye; shoko nagging him to run her errands, satoru reminding him of his words every time they have a slight disagreement. 

(grab me a coffee. three shots of espresso, one cube of sugar. got it?)

slacker.

(we both know i’m right. don’t be so stubborn, suguru! it’s okay to be wrong sometimes.)

asshole.

(c’mon. you said you loved me, right?

so mean. and here i thought you loved me!)

idiots.

(he does love them. more than anything. even when they’re being absolutely insufferable.)

suguru just sighs, deep and fatigued, already anticipating his doom. ”they’re never gonna let me live it down, are they?”

a giggle slips from your lips, and his heart flutters helplessly. ”probably not. my condolences.”

another sigh. it only makes your smile widen. there’s something awfully delighted, in your eyes, as you cradle his face in your hands. ”well, i thought you were very sweet!”

”yeah, yeah…” he mutters, vaguely amused. placing one of his large palms over your hand, where it rests on his cheek. ”i won’t be doing that again anytime soon.”

a chuckles bubbles up from within your throat. ”aww,” you pout, giving way to a teasing grin. ”that’s a shame. i wanted to hear you talk about how much you love me again.”

suguru blinks. 

then he smiles. a very particular smile, characteristic, one you’ve come to associate solely with him. resting somewhere in the intersection between a soft grin and a teasing smirk. a flicker of mischief shines in his eyes, and you realize your mistake.

you can tease suguru all you want; but he'll always turn the tables on you, at the end of the day.

”oh?” he chuckles, fondly, thumb smoothing over the lines of your hand. his eyes gleam, looking straight into yours, shining with something mildly devilish. ”i don’t need to get drunk to tell you that, baby.”

in a smooth motion, one you can’t help but silently envy, suguru intertwines his fingers with yours and brings your hand to his lips. he never once breaks eye contact, gaze heavy as he basks in your flustered expression, planting a soft kiss against your knuckle. reverent.

”i love you. more than anything,” he purrs, lips still lingering on your skin. warm enough to burn. ”you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

a pause. heat crawls up your spine, and a flush rises to your cheeks. you couldn’t stop it if you tried.

”my everything,” he continues, intent on flustering you as much as humanly possible. voice low and smooth, honeyed and deep, and worst of all; terribly earnest. lips trailing over your knuckles, against every knot, so soft that you barely feel it. ”my entire world.”

”okay, okay!” you sputter, an embarrassed hue to your cheeks, your gaze landing on the windowpane to your right. his stare is just too heavy, too deeply in love. overwhelming. ”point taken. nevermind.”

suguru laughs, genuine and full. warm and amused, deep and real, and you catch yourself thinking that you don’t want to go a single day without hearing it. even if it’s at your own expense.

a coo rests on his the tip of his tongue, but he bites it back, opting to lean forward instead. he trails the pads of his fingers along your jaw, touch like a butterfly, lifting your chin up ever so slightly. then he closes the distance between you. 

in your throat, your breath hitches.

— but he doesn’t kiss you. suguru stops right in front of your lips, so close you can feel his breath on your skin, taking a moment to simply look into your eyes. and despite how flustered the close proximity makes you, you can’t bring yourself to look away. heart fluttering madly, a string of staccatos against your parted ribs.

a tilt of his head. amber eyes gleaming, crinkled and fond. ”can i kiss you, now?” he asks, grinning softly. hand smoothing down your hip, big and warm, teasing. ”i made sure to brush away all the alcohol. or do you still not want to?”

you pause. 

”hey, what happened to not remembering anything?” you pout, narrowing your eyes. the corner of suguru’s bottom lip twitches upwards.

but he only shrugs, feigning nonchalance, a playful glint in his eyes. ”guess i was just that disappointed.”

a giggle flows from your lips. he drinks it in, gazing at you with pure contentment.

”alright, alright... c’mere,” you coo, smile honeyed and sweet. tracing your fingertips along his jaw, brushing a silky strand of hair behind his ear. you take in the sight of him, meeting his lovesick gaze. he squeezes at your hips softly, a little impatient — so you finally lean in.

suguru’s lips are warm, when they meet yours. they taste like sunlight, devoid of any alcoholic flavour, just like he so kindly assured you of. and it’s a little amusing, the thought of him in front of the bathroom sink — desperately scrubbing his teeth, just to get his kissing privileges back. such a dork. 

he’s your dork, though.

suguru sighs into the kiss, smiling giddily, satisfied at last. a sound you can’t help but mirror. he deepens it, ever so slightly, fingers squeezing gently at the plush of your waist. a hum of approval buzzes in your throat, and his smile only grows.

when he pulls away, that smile is all you can see, along with the ever so slight flush to his cheeks. a hint of peach dusting his skin, framed by the sunrays caressing his jaw, highlighting his handsome features. breathtaking. 

before you have a chance to protest, he’s leaning in again, to press one more chaste kiss to your lips. your heartbeat picks up.

everything finally feels just right.

the warmth of the sizzling pan, the fragrance of freshly made coffee and now-burnt pancakes. the light of the morning sun, scattered across the open space of your apartment, splotches of life painting everything in a heavenly glow. the love in the air, all soft and light and comfortable.

domestic bliss. with suguru, who never seems to change, no matter how many years go by. if you could live in this moment for the rest of your life, forever and ever, you’re sure you’d die happy.

and wow, is that a heavy word. forever. 

(but suguru makes it feel so very, very light.)

forever feels a lot more real, like this. cradled in the midst of a drowsy morning, bumping elbows with the man you love most, after getting to take care of him in his most vulnerable state. accepting every part of him, and having him accept you just as fervently. 

just this moment alone is worth far more than you could ever comprehend. 

suguru, with his warm hands, his familiar embrace. your shared laughter, bouncing off the walls of the kitchen as you try in vain to save your scorched pancakes. and his smile, his fervent devotion, coaxing him into eating them even though they’re burnt at the edges and don’t taste even a quarter as good as his. because you made them, for him, and that makes them taste sweeter than anything.

you stare at him, from across the table, admiring the sight you’ve grown so used to; suguru, with his slightly tousled hair, mug in hand and smile painted on his handsome face. drowned in sunlight, pink petals flitting in through the opened window. you don’t want a single day to ever pass without you seeing this. what does that mean, exactly? you think you know. 

it means forever.

(forever, forever, forever. what a pretty word.)

marriage. you think of it, again, let it linger in the depths of your skull, bounce around until you grow just a little more used to it. and it’s a scary thought, for sure. a terrifying thought, even, something so foreign that it makes you nervous. but you truly wouldn’t mind doing this forever — not one bit. not if it’s with him.

and, unbeknownst to you, maybe that promise of forever isn’t all that far off.

maybe it’s only a couple rooms away, hidden within the depths of a certain drawer, until suguru finally gets the courage to bring it out. and maybe, just maybe — that day isn’t all that far off, either.

(suguru smiles at you, from across the table. he thinks you look ethereal, sipping from your morning coffee, blinking tiredly. so sweet and angelic.

all he can think of is forever.)

[withleeknow]

seasons of you.

pairing: minho x reader genre/warnings: established relationship, tooth-rotting fluff or at least i hope so lmao, not v edited and literally no one is surprised lol i sound like a broken record atp just adding that into every post word count: 0.7k note: inspired by a highly fucked up thing that @matchannie said to me yesterday lmao it has not left my brain since you said it you absolute monster

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation / masterlist / ko-fi

minho falls in love with you four times a year.

minho falls in love with you in the spring, over blooming cherry blossoms and vibrant daffodils that greet you on your weekly sunset walk. over the feeling of your fingers intertwined with his own without soft fluffy gloves getting in the way, now that it's finally warm enough to retire that extra layer of protection for the season. over the sun coming out of hibernation and filling your days with golden light, falling upon your face and casting you in a magical hue. over the remnants of winter that still leave behind a palpable chill in the air early in the morning or late in the night, that has you reaching out for the comfort of his warmth. over your delighted smile when he brings home a bouquet of tulips after a long day at work. over your glassy eyes, reddened nose and flushed cheeks as he takes care of you when the seasonal allergies kick in.

minho falls in love with you in the summer, over picnics in the park where you both lay on blue gingham picnic blankets, your head on his chest, as you watch the clouds overhead drift peacefully. over watermelon gelatos passed between teasing lips, the confectionary melting too quickly for your liking under the blazing sunlight. over spontaneous drives to the beach even though neither of you can swim, but you go just for fun, just to build sand sculptures in the shape of your cat babies and stand on the edge of the water to splash at each other. over long naps on the couch on days where you're too lazy to venture into the outside heat, preferring to stay cuddled up together under the air conditioner with niki playing in the background.

minho falls in love with you in fall, over shared slices of pumpkin pie as you watch the leaves turn yellow and red right outside your window. over the adorable way you hide your face behind your hands on nights where he puts on a horror movie because he insists on honoring the halloween spirit. over your off-key rendition of taylor swift's all too well (the 10-minute version) for most of the season because you adamantly claim that it's autumn's official anthem. over weekends spent attached at the hip, baking sugar cookies for hours on end. over your crestfallen pout as you take note of how the days keep getting shorter and shorter, already missing warm sunny weeks with all your heart.

minho falls in love with you in winter, over matching scarves and beanies, even though he often has to carry them for you because you have a bad habit of forgetting them before you go out. over the first snow of the season because they say that if you witness the first snowfall with the person you love, then you will stay together for a long, long time. over sweet cuddles in bed as a bad christmas movie plays on tv, and you fall asleep on his shoulder about half an hour into the movie despite being the one to select the movie in the first place. over your return from a shopping spree with your girlfriends with nothing for yourself but everything for soondoongdori, from christmas themed clothes to treats and toys.

but then again, maybe it's not entirely accurate to say that minho falls in love you merely four times a year. if he wants to be precise, then he would say that he falls for you anew every morning he wakes up and sees you asleep in his arms like a delicate miracle granted by a star he once used to wish upon. if he wants to get technical, then he falls in love with you with every smile that you send his way, which is a terribly sappy thing for him to admit but it doesn't make the statement any less true.

minho loves you every day of every week, of every month, of every year. he's loved you before he even met you, when you were just a romanticized idea in his head and hadn't yet walked into his life like the angel he was always meant to find. he loves you every minute of every hour; there isn't a second where you're not on his mind, not a single beat of his heart that doesn't spell out your name. he loves you throughout the seasons and a million times in between.

permanent taglist: @onlyycb97wife @starsandrqindrops @borahae-reads @abbiestearsricochet @cutiespaghetti @anthropologykpopmultistan @moonlinos @mjnhoz @caitlyn98s @piercidh34rts  @stayceebs97 @linocz @yaorzu-blog @biribarabiribbaem @kayleefriedchicken @extrhotjne @caitxx1 @palindrome969 @todorokiskitten @azuna-sz @meanergreener @nxzz-skz @jazziwritesthings @poutypoutybin @bookyeom @jisuperboard @wyzminho @amarecerasus @channection @lastgreatamericandynasty1 @judeduartewannabe @chanshyunjin @firelordtsuki @astronomicallyyy @alm334 @lashaemorow

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 08.04.2024]

[tmntxthings]

YOU 🫵 *points directly at that mean y/n, you, and that anon that asked for ansgt against rottmnt Raph* how very dare you !!!!!!

(If you have time and if your asks are open (didn’t see any warnings that it was close)) can you PLEASE do something fluffy and that reader is ABSOLUTELY head of hells for raphie? I’m talking flowers, I’m talking spending hours on a claw machine to get a plushie he wants it, I’m talking admiring and tracing his features slowly with the most stupid and hopeless in love expression the turtles have ever seen, im talking speaking up for him against anyone that mistreats him, doing his fav dishes, preparing balanced meals, paintings, little love notes, lipstick marks, poems under moonlight, I want devotion!!!! I want that sweet Puppy love !!!!! EVERYTHING. 100% a simp and isn’t afraid to show it, until Raph returns their actions, then they get bashful/blushing up a storm lol

thank you and have a good day

∑一Wherever You Go・゜・。

author’s notes: ain’t no way I’m doing that whole list we’ll be here forever, BUT don’t worry I’ll make sure he feels the love nonetheless

warnings: fluff, tooth-rotting fluff, bordering on a crack fic that’s purely just to show a character love ^ twas asked of me, unedited

Song: Never Getting Rid of Me by Christopher Fitzgerald

—————————————————————————

It was no secret that you adored Raph. And it didn’t bother you one bit that everyone, big red turtle included, knew that you had heart eyes for him.

Your love language for him couldn’t be restricted to just one kind. You exhibited all kinds of love for him. You hoped it wasn’t overwhelming. It was hard to stop yourself once you had an idea though.

One time you saw a beautiful bouquet of red roses. Instantly you had them in your hand, and a receipt in the other. They reminded you of his bandana. So bright, eye-catching! And down to the lair you went, shooting off an incoming text to Raph to give him a last-minute notice.

Earlier occasions where you hadn’t sent a text left you waiting around at a manhole cover forever. If Raph was asleep it would be hard to rouse him with just a notification. He’d need a full on blare horn. Or worst case scenario the boys weren’t even at the lair! Thankfully, most of the time they were home. Raph buzzed back with a text saying he’d be right up to open the cover for you. Sewer covers were heavy!

When the round slab of stone was lifted you offered up the bouquet to the darkness below instantly. It was quiet for a moment, before Raph emerged, cheeks tinted a darker green. “For me?” He questioned, his tone held a quality as if it was unbelievable for him to receive flowers.

But you didn’t chide him for it. In fact you only smiled warmly and nodded your confirmation. “I thought of you the moment I saw them. What do you think? Aren’t they pretty?”

His hands finally went out, accepting your gift. Holding them gingerly and away from his plastron. He seemed to not want any of the petals to snag on his sharp edges. “Raph loves ‘em” he murmured, his eyes entranced by the blossoms now that he could get a closer look.

This moment right here was picture worthy! You wished you had Donnie’s ability to just record everything, that way you could screenshot this later. Maybe put it as your screensaver. Instead you just watched, hands clasped as you waited for Raph to come out of his stupor. Which he did, and started asking you about your favorite flowers and invited you down to the lair.

~

You don’t know how they got the arcade machines down there. But it sure as hell beat going to Chuck-E-Cheese! Nothing against the place but it costs so much and all the games down at the lair are rigged to play for free! Which was awesome because you had finally decided, you weren’t leaving the claw machine until you won Raph’s dream plushie.

The poor turtle had played this game constantly ever since they mysteriously got the machine. He was able to get two plushies but they weren’t the ones he really wanted. The ultimate prize was a brown teddy bear with a little red bow tie. He was absolutely adorable. And Raph’s obsession with winning his prize was even more endearing. So when Raph texted you a picture of his defeated expression against the glass of the claw machine, you had to take matters into your own hands.

Raphie 😍❤️😚🤗🥰 - [ <image> 🥺 it’s hopeless ]

Y/n - [ omw asap, don’t worry raphie i’ll get you teddy! ❤️💪 ]

Well, easier said than done is a term of phrase for a reason. You banged your head against the glass or you tried to at least. But Raph’s calloused palm was in front of the glass before your forehead could make contact. Still you drew back to bang it against his rough skin anyway. He knew your frustrations, the claw machine was merciless. You had been at the lair for well over two hours. The first thirty minutes in had been fine. You had chatted with Raph easily, confident that eventually you would get the hang of the mechanism.

But then an hour went by. And then another. Your concentration on the game had dried up the easy conversation between you and big red. The atmosphere was intense as if the two of you were in battle together. Currently you were both defeated. His other hand patted your back, knowing exactly how you felt. “It’s okay, maybe Teddy isn’t meant to join my pile of plushies.”

You took in a deep breath. Stopping your frustrated head thumps and turned to look Raph in the eyes. “You’re right, Teddy is meant to sleep right next to you! And I’m gonna make that happen!” You harrumphed as you turned back to the evil machine. It was your enemy. It was working against you. All you wanted to do was this one thing and make Raph happy! This time for sure, you thought to yourself as you hovered the claw over to where Teddy lay amongst the other plushies.

“Like a boss!!!” You yelled as you smacked the button that lowered the claw. Both of you watched anxiously as it dropped, its metal fingers enclosing around Teddy’s brown fur, and it started to rise. But you had been here before and didn’t dare to celebrate pre-maturely before the damn stuffed animal was in Raph’s arms. The grip the machine had on the animal was shaky at best. The claw swayed from side to side as it carried the plushie over to the drop box. You were sweating bullets and could smell Raph’s anxiety stink.

But before the claw reached its final destination, the plushie tumbled out of its hold. You turned to Raph who let out a breath he had been holding. You expected to see disappointment in his eyes but it was quite the opposite. He looked happy as his snaggle-tooth dug into his lower lip. “Nice try,” his eyes crinkled shut with his smile. “Wanna go play DDR?” You sighed, letting the claw machine have the win for now. Happy to see Raph’s eyes light up with a burning passion as he raced over to his favorite spot, the left side, for DDR. “Ready to face the master??” He goaded but it was pure excitement to play one of his favorites of all time. “So ready!” You laughed, hopping up on the dance pad to get absolutely demolished because you didn’t have any rhythm. But you played regardless because when Raph was having fun so were you.

And yes, later that night you did bribe Donnie with twenty bucks to replace that damned claw with one that would actually work. So next time you were able to win Teddy and present Raph with the ultimate present. It costed you another twenty to keep Donnie’s mouth shut about ever having any involvement so you could have all the credit and look like a hero in Raph’s starry eyes. He sent you pictures of him and the stuffed animal almost every night with his goodnight message.

Raphie 😍❤️😚🤗🥰 - [ <image> Teddy says goodnight! ]

Y/n - [ gnight teddy, and goodnight raph-a-la 🤗 sweet dreams ]

~

“What did you say?!” Your voice raised as you stepped into the lair’s common room. Shelldon had just so kindly lifted the manhole cover, since no one else from the group chat was responding! You thought it weird since usually someone was on their phone *cough* Donnie *cough* but sometimes they were busy! Which you understood. Until you had seen Shelldon’s worried pixelated expression as he urged you on down the sewer system to the abandoned subway station.

That was when you heard it. Heated arguing. It was hard to listen to especially when it was Leo and Raph. You knew how much all of them loved one another, a love that even harsh words couldn’t damage. But sometimes, things were said in the heat of the moment that weren’t meant to argue a point. They were said to hurt the other person. That’s where you drew the line. That’s where you felt the need to step in, even if you weren’t family.

“Leo, if you’d just try, even a little, at accepting the role as a leader. It’s not that bad-“

“If it’s not that bad then why don’t you just take it back huh?”

“You know why. Dad said you-“

“Dad said this! Dad says that! What are you his little pet? Since when do we do whatever Dad says?!”

“Leo, c’mon,”

“Raph if you don’t wanna be the leader anymore. Then fine. But don’t push it on to me.”

“I never said that, Dad thinks-“

“For someone who’s catchphrase is ‘boss’ you really like being someone’s little bit—“

And that’s when you stepped into the room. Eyes hardened as you marched in between the two turtles. “What did you just say?!” You dared Leo to repeat. But as he studied your stance and the way you got in front of Raph, as if protecting him from Leo, the blue turtle started to duck his head into his shell. Feeling remorseful for getting so heated. He made a ‘tsk’ noise before heading off to his room. Mumbling sorries as he passed by.

You turned to Raph to check the damage. It seemed like just the two of you now. You wondered if they had started fighting because Mikey and Donnie weren’t around. Raph was rubbing the side of his head, looking drained and it tugged on your heart strings to see him that way. You knew brothers argued, sure they even fought sometimes. But it was hard to see them go at it like this.

“I know you’re not okay, so I won’t ask. But just know Leo didn’t mean any of that. I know he didn’t.”

Raph gives you a weak smile in return. Like he doesn’t believe you. But doesn’t have the heart to say it aloud. So you go to him, grabbing his hands and pulling him towards the couch. He goes without resistance. Once seated, you turn to him and he turns to you. Your hands go up and you cup his face now that he is within your reach.

“He’s scared. Just like you are. I know it’s hard to tell right now when he’s saying anything but that. But you know Leo, he’ll spew just about any nonsense to not say how he truly feels.”

The words turn over in Raph’s head as he thinks. He sighs, softening in your hold as he nods. He looks a little better now. But you don’t let him go. You trace the contours of his face. Lovingly. Letting the tension in the room ebb out until the early argument has left both of your minds completely.

“It’ll be okay. I know it will.”

You murmur. Your hands finally letting go as Raph’s breathing deepens. He fell asleep to your touch. Leaned back into the couch as his snores start up. You scoot over until your head can rest on his arm, pulling up your phone to text Leo to get his ass over here. A portal silently opens up on the other side of you and as Leo sits next to you, you pull him closer with your arm.

“Dummy.”

You chide the blue turtle as tears fall down his green cheeks. He huffs at the insult but knows you mean well. When you leave the lair that night the two brothers are tangled together in a pile that will surely be four later on, alls forgiven.

~

Raph eats just about anything. His stomach knows no limits. So you could char the meat on accident and he’d still wolf it down like it was the best meal he ever had. While that was kind of him, you wanted to really impress his palate. So on the topic of food one late night text session, you asked of his favorites. To which a long list was sent over. So you had to ask him again.

Y/n - [ Okay, that’s really cool that you have so many. But which one is your favorite among the favorites? 👀 ]

Raphie 😍❤️😚🤗🥰 - [ that’s a hard one… uhmmmmm ]

With a lot of encouragement he managed to get the favorite list down to five choices. To which you just decided to hell with it, you’ll have a feast! It took a lot of preparation. And more time than you thought you’d ever spend in your kitchen. But five meals were cooked and prepared perfectly on your round table. Now, you wished you’d told Raph of your plan sooner and hoped to the moon above that he didn’t have plans tonight.

Y/n - [ >image< hungry? C: ]

Raphie 😍❤️😚🤗🥰 [ 😱 always! headin ur way ]

Raphie 😍❤️😚🤗🥰 [ hereeeeeeee open ur windowwwww ]

And yes somehow he fit. He was good at wiggling around. He cleared each and every plate once you had tapped out after trying to keep up with him. Food comas hit the both of you soon after as he got up and claimed he would do the dishes. He was so cute as he wobbled up sleepily from the kitchen chair. Arms full of plates and platters as well as cups for not only water but various sodas/juices had been served that you knew to be Raph’s favorites as well. When he had asked what the occasion was you didn’t have any in mind.

“I just wanted to!”

You chirped. Happy to feed him. Happy to have made his day. Now he was as careful as one giant turtle could be with your plates, but to his dismay the bottom one from the pile ended up breaking due to the clatter when he placed them in the sink. He wouldn’t know it until he was practically done with cleaning, feeling so good about himself for not breaking any of the— oh there it was. The last one. In pieces.

“Raph is so so sorry! You made a nice meal only for Raph to break your plate!”

No matter how much he wished he could fuse the remains back together, he’d need glue. And you apparently didn’t have any in your apartment. He sighed to which you hushed all his worries away.

“Raphie! It’s just one plate, I’ve got more! Plenty more as you can see!”

You, who had been drying the dishes he washed. Gestured with the damp towel towards the pile of neatly stacked plates that were all dry. The force of which you whipped the towel was more than you had intended and you both watched as that perfect stack fell over, onto the counter and off on to the floor.

“Well. I may need to go buy some more.”

You admitted sheepishly. Raph didn’t know whether to be upset for you or laugh at the ridiculousness of the whole situation.

“Yeah, let’s go get some now!”

After picking up and sweeping to make sure all the shattered pieces were in the trash. That’s exactly what the two of you did. It was little things that Raph did, like worry needlessly over you accidentally cutting yourself with one of the broken plate pieces. Or him getting shy at every compliment and gift you had to offer him. His humble nature. How he readily takes on responsibilities. His love for his family. His diligence when it comes to crime fighting and working out. His carefree side. You loved it all. You told him all the things that enamored you to him. And the two of you were happiest, when you could just spend time together like this. Doing little things.

—————————————————————————

[mosaickiwi]

Fall Unto Me

Meant to post this before Halloween except it got reaaaally long so I split it up. 🙈 It works as a standalone, though. I'll put the other parts up at some point hehe.

Actual!Angel and Devil!Ren AU (yoinked from da discord bot once again) One visit to earth turns into eternity. 1.4k words + GN reader

cw// religious themes

14 Days With You is an 18+ Yandere Visual Novel. MINORS DNI

With pearly white wings and a halo of gold, you were a disciple in heaven’s endless library. Duty bound to organize records and histories of paradise and its worlds below. Though you’d never looked within those records, just being in their presence gave you curiosity about your god’s creations all the same.

Once every hundred or so years in your infinite lifespan, you sought to venture into the human realm before returning to your celestial duty. It was an odd request to your peers. None were as interested in mortals as you so each visit was a lonely affair. You never stayed more than an hour or two, merely observing how they had changed from a favored seat in the clouds above, lest someone spotted you. It was only meant to be a short trip as always. This time something felt different.

In the quaint seaside town you were fond of visiting, you'd sensed a devil and dared to investigate. Of course, you'd never met one, so you had no idea what that uneasy feeling even was until your feet touched the ground for the very first time.

The devil seemed to be asleep in a field of blossoms, butterflies fluttering about. Spring was always in full bloom when you descended to earth. Pastel pink hair blended with the flowers, only making the black horns atop his head and the symbols scrawled along his arms stand out even more.

You approached with caution and curiosity. Though they were meant to be your sworn enemy, heaven's few rumors about devils already appeared untrue. The fauna and flora around him weren't withered and rotting, but full of life. He didn't smell of burning flesh, nor was he covered head to toe in the blood of his victims. If anything, his form seemed almost angelic.

He opened his eyes as you came closer, and their sky blue color welcomed you further. "Ah, could I be dreaming? Or has an angel come to rescind my eternal punishment?" he spoke wryly. 

"Nay, devil. I want no trouble from you," you said in response, caught off guard by his casual, relaxed greeting. You took a few fearful steps away when he rose to lean back on his hands.

"Hmm... You have some holy divination or blessing to bestow upon this land, I assume. I've no intention of interfering." He smiled up at you, and those angelic features seemed even more prominent. Were it not for the pointed tail swishing with vigor behind him, you'd think this devil was one of your own.

"There's no mission I've been given," you explained with a shake of your head, "I'm only here to observe my god's world for a few moments, out of my own curiosity."

"Fascinating. I've never known angels to take interest in mortal affairs before their passing. Then, if no duty calls for thee—" he stopped to pluck a white bud that hadn't quite fully bloomed from the sea around him. "Might you grace me with your divine visage for one moment longer, little angel? I've called earth my home for millennia—and damnation is dreadfully boring. I could help with those curiosities, if you so desire." He held the bud out to you as an offering.

Though his words sounded sincere, you felt unsure. “...Do you take me to be so naive? I know your kind favor trickery.”

“I only offer my companionship,” he gave an innocent shrug. That heavenly smile was still fixed on you.

Your eyes darted between his outstretched hand and his face. Eventually, you took the flower from him. You could sense no ill intent on their part, so it wouldn't hurt to stay a little while. Nonetheless, you’d do your best to stay on guard.

~

The sun dipped lower in the sky as you lost track of time. Ren, you learned, knew far more of humans than you ever imagined. Your interest in them grew with each story he told of the world. At his urging, you'd gone to the beach to wander up close among them. It was a bit of a struggle to prepare—you'd never been told that your wings could retract or your halo could be hidden. But he coached you through it, not so much as flinching at the sting of divine power when you accidentally hit his arm with a wing on the first try. For a devil, he was oddly knowledgeable of things beyond his damned realm.

“You said your visits were always over in the late morning. So you haven’t seen this time of day, have you?” he asked as you both walked along the shore, waves glittering in gentle reds and pinks you’d never known the sun to make.

“I haven’t seen this terrain either.” Even with the occasional pausing stares of young children and animals—the only beings who could see your true form, as they were without sin—you were thrilled at the new experiences you were having. Your footsteps painted the sand rather unevenly compared to his. It was impossible to get used to the sinking feeling, nor the coarse sand getting into your sandals. You laughed at the sensation. “Heaven is all clouds and gardens. Here… it’s so different. The sun shines differently. But it’s still just as beautiful.”

He took your hand in his to keep you steady, pulling you towards the water’s edge. They were all too comfortable with the action, but you didn't spare it a thought. The guard you were meant to keep up had been thrown aside long ago. “I’m honored to show you such new experiences. And I only hope to give you more.” Ren’s face was bathed in a heavenly glow as he guided you into the water. 

It was a stark contrast. The once warm sand turned to a bracing cold, almost slimy texture as the water slowly rose up to your waist. You raised your other hand up high to avoid it, still clutching the late blooming bud he’d picked for you.

The pink-haired devil brought you to a stop and nodded out at the setting sun with an unreadable look, “I’m sure you won’t be able to take your eyes away from it. I couldn’t, my first time seeing the sun disappear.” At his suggestion you turned your head to watch, barely aware of the way their tail wrapped around your hips to keep you close.

It was captivating as the sun began to fall further beyond the horizon, the hues of the day gradually shifting both in the sky and sea before your eyes. Golds, reds, pinks, and purples all chased after the light, leaving behind a blue as cold as the water felt. In what seemed like an instant, it was over too soon—not a trace left of the glorious sun that never set back in the heavens you called home. Strangely enough, your body tensed with heavy feelings. As if you were saying goodbye to a part of you. You stood staring out at the graying ocean for a long while, until the cold water lapping against your skin felt no different from the air.

“How was it?” he gently broke the silence. You felt his hand move to rest over your own, cradling the flower still between your fingers. The heat of his touch guided you to meet his gaze.

“Breathtaking, I think,” you whispered with a frown as you looked up at him. “And a bit sad? All that warmth disappeared—I’m not sure how to feel.”

“Breathtaking as the sun is, you’ll find on earth that some flowers show their true beauty without its watchful eye, my little angel,” he said to reassure you. The bud in your shared grasp opened slowly at his words, its tapered white petals unfurling to reveal pale lavender edges as the sky darkened further. His fingers traced behind your ear before he tucked the flower among the strands of your hair, seeming to admire it. “You’d never have known if you’d only stayed those few moments.”

You searched his eyes as his hand lingered at your cheek. Just as when you first met, there was no malice in their voice. A devil who appreciated your god’s work felt unheard of. From Ren's intense gaze he looked as if he revered them. He must've been a kindred soul—or the equivalent of a soul in demons. You wanted to know more about him as well, not just mortals. 

Their fangs gleamed in the faint moonlight when you quietly asked, “What else can you show me?”

[builtbybrokenbells]

belladonna | iii (pt. 1)

too beautiful to resist, and too deadly to survive; the tragic tale of belladonna in all its glory.

masterlist | taglist

Pairing: Danny Wagner x f!reader, f!reader x OC

Word Count: 15k

Warnings: mentions of toxic/abusive parents, mentions of/toxic relationships, mentions of criminal activity/criminal records, poverty, mentions of homelessness, mentions of physical violence, mentions of blood, mentions of AA/NA, NA meetings, heavy descriptions of addictions, use of/mentions of drugs, mentions of relapsing, mentions of OD, mentions of drinking, flirting, mentions of hookups/sex, smoking, depression/anxiety, mental health struggles, swearing, sorry if I miss any!!

here’s part one of two! lots of heavy stuff in this part and some more character background, but we do get to see some romance begin to blossom. im excited to share, but even more excited for you guys to read the next part. thanks for being amazing, i love you guys 🤍

April 22, 2022

The morning was violent, so much so that it managed to pull you from a slumber fit for the dead. As you rolled over on your couch, your journal tumbled from your stomach and landed on the floor with a thump that echoed through the entire room. The large panel windows with rotted sills glistened under the blazing sunlight, too bright and warm for you to withstand. You squeezed your eyes shut again to block out the rays, but instead of blackness, the usual void seemed red with the light beaming directly on your face. You withdrew a long breath, rubbing your face in your hands to pull yourself out of the claws of exhaustion. After a moment, you managed to invigorate yourself enough to sit up straight, but it came with ample consequences.

Your body ached so desperately that it felt like your bones had twisted and morphed into something new, and your throat scratched with dryness every time you tried to swallow. Your head pounded with every breath and only ever worsened as you moved. There was a kink in your neck that you could not massage out if you tried, and your stomach was twisted with upset. You woke up the same every morning, like you were still in active addiction and your body was craving the substance with a fervor. It was a phantom pain that passed not long after you started your day, but while it existed, it was incredibly difficult to get through. No matter how long you had been sober for, you awoke every morning with the incessant urge to fall back into old habits.

That specific morning it seemed so much worse than others, and you feared that if you had even the slightest lapse in willpower, you would end up on the bathroom floor submitting to an entity so sinister that it would ruin your life all over again.

So, instead of taking the risk, you checked your phone to see what time it was. When the white letters splayed ten o’clock, you knew you could rush to the old AA hall they had donated to the druggies when the state funded a new building and catch the morning meeting. If you were lucky enough, you could make it in time to grab one or two of the stale muffins from the day prior and save some money on groceries. You noticed the pen that had once sat atop the journal (that had once sat atop you) had fallen onto the torn cushions of the couch and was now stabbing into your side. With a huff of frustration, you tossed it to the floor, where it struck the old vinyl tile and rocketed under one of the other pieces of furniture.

You stood, feeling woozy from the illness plaguing you and seemingly eating away at your insides. With a vow to ignore it, you trudged to the bathroom to comb your hair and brush your teeth. The intense mint from the toothpaste was aggravating your already sick stomach, and you fought back a gag as you struggled through the basic task. You washed your face, hoping the cold water would distract you, but the sting of the frigid liquid on your tired skin only annoyed you further. In a poor mood, you forced yourself through the rest of your routine and ran to your bedroom. You changed into a pair of jeans that once belonged to your oldest brother, and a sweater that belonged to your youngest brother. To top it off, you threw on a fleece lined plaid jacket to keep out the harsh wind, noticing yet another rip in the already worn out fabric.

You grabbed your pack of cigarettes from the counter on the way out the door, tying your boots in the hallway after deciding that tripping over laces would be the (theoretical) straw that broke the camel's back. You broke out into the bitter air, the smell of city smog filling your lungs and the nip of morning frost biting at your cheeks. You shoved your headphones into your ear, pressing play on a playlist that had been ringing through your living room all night long. With a brief check over your shoulder, you hopped to the other side of the street and began walking down the winding side road in hopes of finding a Hail Mary.

After a seemingly treacherous journey, you trudged up the wooden steps that were nearly rotten all the way through. You clasped your fingers around the large metal handle and pulled the oak door open, the creaks echoing through the barren entryway. You stepped inside, your mind still swimming with relentless thoughts and your cheeks blushed with chill. You slipped your headphones into the pocket of your hoodie and moved further inside, surveying the room before going any further. The old building was once a church, and when it was abandoned, the state took it over and rebranded it for Alcoholics Anonymous meetings. Back then, it went hand in hand with the motto, as most that turned vile due to their addictions believed themselves to be devout Christian’s. Some believed it was blasphemous to use such a building for people who had disgraced the name of god, and others thought it to be perfectly fitting. Either way, God did not have a hand in what happened in the building, nor was he worthy of credit for the recovery of the people.

When the government decided AA was worthy of a better building, they still failed to recognize addicts as people deserving of recovery (or help, even), and left the old building for anyone to do as they pleased with. For a little while, it was home to a small family of homeless people, and only once the city grew sick of them did they decide an NA program was worthwhile. State ‘funded’ and utterly disappointing, they held meetings twice a day that were led by a single member of the mental health board (and not even an addictions expert, at that) and were mostly self-guided. As much as the program lacked, you still found it comforting to sort through your issues with fellow addicts who also fucked up their lives beyond repair. That, and it was the only intervention that was consistently accessible, and free.

You hated knowing that your recovery was based off a paycheck, and that bettering yourself as a person was dependent upon affordability, yet you knew this to be reality. Treatment programs were expensive, and the only one you had ever been to had left you with a debt you would never shake off your shoulders. From then, you knew you had to be in charge of your recovery, and that started with improving your willpower to stay sober. You could not afford anything more than self-help journals, and with every backslide, you understood that medical bills were piling higher and higher. Sobriety was the only option, because if not, poverty was the punishment. Unfortunately, poverty was a breeding ground for mental illness (which you already suffered enough of), and mental illness was a slippery slope that lead you straight back to square one.

Complaining about NA would not get you any further ahead, so you often had to swallow your distaste and appreciate it for what it was. At least there was some type of intervention, even if it was lousy. Without it, you would have nothing but yourself, and you had come to realize that was one thing you could not solely rely on, as you were a nothing shy of a trained professional in bad decisions and fucking up.

You noticed the circle of fold out chairs, half filled with zombie-like shapes that only passed as people on a good day. Today, as it seemed, was not a good day. Most of the attendees were forced to be there by parole regulations, and others only came for a warm place to sit for an hour. Some, like yourself, wanted help, but most cared about the free food more. As you approached the group, you made a stop at the table with the coffee canister and expired creamer, pouring yourself two cups to sip away at while you spilled your guts. Thankfully, there were plenty of muffins left, and when nobody was looking, you managed to slip a few in your large pockets (which was the exact reason you wore that specific jacket).

As you took a seat, you surveyed for any familiar faces. There was an older women, frail looking with mousy blonde hair and sad eyes. Her name was Carol, and she was the most frequent attendee of all of the meetings. Even so, you knew her to be a woman who was sober, but nowhere near recovered. She’d been through the twelve step program a hundred times, yet never seemed to harness all that she’d learned. She was tired, sorrowful and a little timid, yet had a fiery side that matched the devil. She often talked about her mistakes like they were small blips, yet did not seem to comprehend that even if they were unavoidable, they had consequences that were detrimental to her and her family. More specifically, it affected her children, in which she mentioned their no-contact order at least once a meeting.

You felt bad for her, but not enough to extend a helping hand. She was a great example of ‘reap what you sow’ and she reminded you too much of your own mother to ignore it. Every time you began to feel some shred of sympathy, you would think of her four kids who suffered at the hands of her own lack of self control. She knew nothing about accountability, and was in so much denial that she was blaming the no contact order on the children who filed it, rather than the woman who caused it. She would never recover unless she understood the implications of her actions, and that she caused all that happened, even if she felt powerless at the time. She could abstain from using drugs until her last breath, yet she would never escape the addict mentality.

The coordinator, Liam, was by the windows organizing his meeting checklist. He hadn’t noticed you yet, but you were certain that when he did, a smart comment would be casted in your direction. He was in his mid-thirties, and he wasn’t the worst person in the world to share a piece of your soul with. If anything, over the months of going to meetings, you had actually grown quite fond of him. He was a trained mental health professional, and even if his specialty was not addiction, he still cared enough to dedicate his time to helping others. You were certain that he was not paid well for his two hours a day, and he was working it atop his other job. There was a part of him that loved the charity, and as a true councillor should, cared about helping people more than anything else.

As you sipped at your coffee, Liam approached the group with his head still nestled in his clipboard. As more people trudged in, he looked up to smile as they situated themselves, and that’s when his eyes landed on you. There was a sparkle of something you could not place your finger on, and it made you bite back a laugh. He stepped in your direction, tapping his pen against the cork material of the board as he thought of a snarky remark. “You lose your calendar?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. “It’s not Wednesday.”

“No, it’s not. Astute observation, smartass.” You replied, smirking at him. The one good thing about NA was him, and the fact that you felt like you could be yourself around him. He was not a bible thumper, nor was he a hardass; he was a person who knew struggle, taking time to help other people with their struggle. He understood that you were a barely-adult who dealt with your pain with humour, especially after watching you interact with Dylan and Vincent, and he used it to his advantage. Every now and again, he had to crack the whip to ensure you weren’t using humour to deflect, but most of the time, he agreed that it was a good coping mechanism.

“You just missed me so much, huh?” He sighed, tapping the end of his pen against the board, now. It send a dull yet steady sound through the immediate air, and it was the equivalent to nails on a chalkboard for your already migraine-ridden brain.

“Hardly,” you muttered, taking another long gulp of coffee while hoping it would ease the pain in your skull. “Figured if I had to choose between you and the detox box, I’d pick you.”

“Smart choice.” He complimented. “Where’s your company?”

“You really think they’d come to a non-mandated meeting? Are you insane?”

“Some would say so.” He shrugged. “Proud of you for choosing sobriety, y/n.”

“Oh, fuck off with your sentimental bullshit.” You grumbled, but couldn’t deny the tugging of your heartstrings. If there was one thing you loved, it was being told that someone was proud of you. Of course, you were never willing to show your appreciation for the fact, but you definitely held the words close. “You better get started before Carol starts crying or Joey falls asleep.” You said, nodding your head in the direction of the two sitting side by side. Joey seemed as if he was nodding off, and Carol was already weepy-eyed.

“Right, it’s about that time.” He sighed, nodding curtly. “Alright, everyone! Come grab a seat so we can get started!” His voice echoed through the mostly empty room, bouncing off the walls peeling of their paint. The large windows sent flutters of golden light through the room, illuminating the specs of dust in the air. When you looked above the pointed window tops, you could see the shadow of a cross that remained stained to the wallpaper even long after it was removed. The grime of the building ensured that the memory would remain indefinitely. As Liam walked towards his chair at the head of the circle, the small heels of his dress shoes clacked against the rickety floorboards. When he sat, the legs of the plastic foldout chair scraped against the already scuffed panels. It was underwhelming in its entirety, yet you found it oddly comforting.

As the bodies pooled into the chairs, leaving ample spaces between themselves as they sat down, you crossed your legs and pulled the frumpy jacket closer to your body. The building was drafty, shifting and groaning under every strong gust of wind and threatening to give out under the pressure. You picked at the threads of loose skin around your fingernails, awaiting Liam’s routine meeting opener.

“Good morning, everyone.” He spoke, his voice echoing throughout the whole room. He was cheerful, but not overly, and he was excited to get his part over with so he could sit back and observe. “As some of you know, Friday’s are completely open discussion days, just the same as Monday. If this isn’t your cup of tea and you’d like to check out the speaker meetings where I guide you through the steps of recovery, you can stop by from Tuesday to Thursday. I’m here at the same time every day, 11am and 2pm, so if you require another session outside of your normal attendance schedule, you know where to find me.” There were a few mutters of agreement from the crowd, but most of them had their eyes on the clock, waiting for the hour to finish despite it only just getting started.

“Are there any newcomers in the crowd today?” The question was mandated, even if he already knew the answer. He recognized you all from the minute you stepped in; the whole crowd was familiar with each other now. “Right, okay.” He nodded, jotting something down on his clipboard. “As always, remember that if you run into any issues outside of the normal meeting times, we always implore you to give a call to the friends you’ve made here. There’s a list of numbers available by the door for anyone who has volunteered to be a sponsor. Remember—“

“Dial it, don’t file it.” The whole group chanted back to him before he could speak. The mantra was drilled so deeply into your brain that you were sure you muttered it in your sleep. He gave a tight lipped smile, understanding the redundancy of his words.

Open speaker meetings were your favorite. You did not find much solace in Liam droning on for a half an hour, as his personal experience with addiction was nonexistent. It was a comfort to tell your story and have it touch others, and it was nice when you could hear the struggles of other people. It made you feel less alone, and it felt less clinical. When Liam took up an hour of your time, yapping away about resilience and self awareness, it was difficult not to fall asleep in your chair. You chose Wednesday’s as your regular days when you learned it was Vincent and Dylan’s scheduled day, but not for many other reasons. Sometimes, it was nice to hear advice and encouragement, but in the long run, it did not hold much value to you. You opted to go to plenty of meetings outside of your normal time, just so you could get all of the benefits of it.

“Remember to stick around after the meeting so we can hand out chips or tags, whichever you prefer. If you brought your white chip with you today, we can upgrade you to silver.” He gave a smile, as if handing in a surrender token was a victory and a 24-hour token was a milestone. You were certain that everyone around you had a million silver and white tokens littered across their homes, yet it never seemed to stick. You knew that for you, at least, a silver token was a punch in the gut rather than a pat on the back. “So, if there’s no questions, we can get started.” He said, surveying the crowd for a raised hand or an interested eye. When he was met with nothing, he gave a slow nod, crossing his legs and taking in a long breath. “Would anyone like to start us off?”

The silence was so abundant that you could hear the honking of horns from the road. You waited for the chirp of crickets, but you knew that the building was filled with too much asbestos to house any living creature, insects included. Spiders on the other hand had seemed to grow resilience when it came to the toxicity of the environment, which only made them superhuman in comparison to their former self. You could see a few dangling from cobwebs in the corners of the room.

“I’ll go,” you said, speaking up only when the silence grew unbearable. “If nobody else wants to, I can start.”

“Sure,” Liam nodded, smiling at your willingness to proceed. “Whenever you’re comfortable.”

You took a moment to gather your thoughts, making yourself wonder why you had actually shown up on that solemn Friday morning. What had been so troublesome that you rushed out your front door the minute you woke up so you could attend a meeting?

That was a loaded question, one that likely had a million answers, but you settled on the thoughts that felt most pressing to you.

“I often hear the same sentiment when I talk about my addictions. I get the same sad smiles and sympathetic eyes, the ones that tell me that I’m more fucked up then even I can comprehend. I can see the refrain in their faces, like they want to run and hide. I get that it’s hard to understand something when you’ve never experienced it, but sometimes it makes me wonder how it’s so easy to dehumanize people who’ve gone through or are currently facing struggle.” You didn’t stop speaking for a reaction, but rather to gather your many thoughts before speaking them aloud. It seemed as though you were in more of a talking mood than you previously thought, because now that you had begun, you felt no inclination to stop.

“When someone grieves, we do not go out of our way to alienate them from us. When someone gets in an accident, we parade around with bouquets of flowers and well wishes. When alcoholics drink themselves to the point of no return, we put them on a transplant list for a new liver and hand out brochures on how to live a sober life. Why is it when someone learns that I’m an addict, I am denounced to nothing but a thief and a criminal? What makes my struggle different? What makes me less worthy of help?” You posed the question to the crowd, not expecting a real answer. “All of the aforementioned reasons are worthy of sympathy and compassion, but it makes me question why my struggle is not. Why, even when I walk into an Alcoholics Anonymous hall and speak my troubles aloud, they look at me as if I’m evil, as if their addiction is better than mine? The superiority complex of an addict who deems their addiction more digestible than my own makes my skin crawl, yet I see it every day.”

“I’ve been an addict since I was born, even if I didn’t touch drugs until I was a teenager. The addiction was engraved in my brain since conception—no matter active or not, I will always have the symptoms of the disease. It was shown to me first by my father, who was willing to abandon his three children in search of a high. I learned the rest of it from my mother, who was the highest functioning alcoholic I have ever met.” You paused, forcing your thoughts away from the face of your mother, which only ever seem to enrage you.

“When I was three, I was addicted to apple juice. I used to scream and cry and kick my feet until I was red in the face and my lungs started to ache. As soon as they placed that Disney Princess sippy-cup in my hands, it was like they shot me with a fucking tranquilizer dart. Two hours later, it started all over again. When I was seven, it was marshmallows. When I was eleven, it was that stupid fucking ‘Peggle’ game on my brothers Xbox. When I turned thirteen, I drank alcohol with my best friend for the first time. We stole it from her parents' liquor cabinet and drank so much we threw up for two whole days.” You explained, leaning forward in your chair and looking towards the floor.

“Even as I spilled my guts over that toilet and spent forty eight hours in misery, I knew that apple juice had nothing on alcohol, and it had given me more satisfaction than anything ever had. On my fifteenth birthday, all of my friends were out of town, so I thought I’d have my own fun at home alone, and hopefully drown out the sound of my mother terrorizing my brothers in the living room.” You explained, giving an empty smile. “I looked through my mothers pill cabinet, pulling out bottles and typing names into my phone to find out what it would do for me. I went back to my bedroom with three little white pills in my hand, locking the door behind me and sealing my fate for the rest of eternity.” You took in a long breath, closing your eyes for a moment. “That night, I discovered that OxyContin was far more effective than ‘Peggle’, and from there, I became the worst version of myself.” You heard a few hums of agreement around the room, unable to look up at the sad eyes staring at you. You knew that they hated seeing someone so young face the evil fangs of opiates, but no matter if they were sympathetic or not, you were still hurting over it just the same. Silence became you and you were unsure if talking was making it better, or hurting you more.

“My point is,” you continued, feeling your courage begin to return. “I didn’t wake up on my fifteenth birthday and decide to be an addict. I didn’t decide to be an addict every time I used after that, because it was never a choice. If you have bipolar disorder, it was in your brain long before you ever showed symptoms. If you have cancer, half of your insides are rotten before they catch it. I had an addiction long before I ever touched drugs, and I’ll have an addiction until the day I die. It does not make me lesser than anyone else, and it doesn’t make me a bad person. I had shit luck and poor genes, and I’ll suffer for the rest of my life, but my suffering does not make me a bad person, and it does not make me any different than another person walking down those streets. I’m not inherently evil because of it; I’m just someone who’s made mistakes, trying to atone for them. I’m still that little girl crying for apple juice, or that pre-teen begging my brother to play a game. The only difference is, I’ve had a taste of something far more powerful and much more lethal. I’m tired of being painted the villain, because it was the substance that turned me bad. I hurt people, and I hurt myself, but every day I wake up and choose to be different. It does not take away from what I have already done, but it does change to who I will be. That is the difference between a good person and a bad person, not the demons they’re fighting against.”

“I’m an addict, and I know I will be an addict until the day I die. I was born that way, but I made the conscious decision to use, and I will be stuck repenting for that until my last breath. I can’t sit before you and tell you I regret my decisions, because those were some of the best days of my life. I don’t regret it, even if it was a mistake. It was the best thing I have ever felt. I wake up every day still craving the high, wondering if it’s easier to just give in and let go. I spend every waking minute chasing that feeling, and even if I know I can never have it again, it doesn’t mean I don’t want it. It’s a constant struggle, a reminder of my own mistakes that I’m still trying to run away from, and it’s torture. At the same time, I came here today because I’ve been stuck wondering if it’s possible to change, to not be this person anymore.”

“I want to be good, to love life without being dependent on substance, but I worry that it’s not possible. I want to breathe without restraint, and I want to live without chains constantly holding me down. When I think about how hard it is to stay sober, I try to remember how hard it is to be an addict, and sometimes not even that can scare me away. I want to go back to the days where ‘Peggle’ and marshmallows could make me feel the same way. I’m trying to be something I’m not, and I’m afraid it’s not ever possible to be what I want. Will I be seventy years old and happy that I stayed sober, or will I be in that rocking chair looking back at my life, surrounded by grandchildren yet still remembering what it felt like to swallow that pill? Worse than that, I worry that seventy will never be in my hands, and I’ll die of the sickness before I can ever see it.” You paused, realizing that you were taking up far too much time. You blinked hard, bringing yourself back to reality and settling back in your chair. You looked to the water stained ceilings with tears pricking your dry eyes, wondering how the hell you got yourself here.

“Sobriety has been my best friend and my worst enemy, and I came here today because it’s my enemy. I know what I need to do, but today just it doesn’t seem possible. For now, I’m here. Tomorrow, I’ll wake up and try again, because that’s all I can do. When it feels impossible, I just keep telling myself that it’s for the best. I'm no stranger to starting from zero, so what the hell is one more try, right?” A slow round of applause echoed around the room. You fought back an eye roll, knowing that all that you had said was not worthy of a celebration. It was a ugly thing, a eulogy to your former self, and sobriety had never been something you were proud of. It was a struggle, and it was something you could never seem to commit to. Trying again was your area of expertise because of how good you were at fucking up, and you did not feel right celebrating a temporary victory while the hardest battle was still looming just overhead.

“I can speak for everyone when I say that we’re incredibly happy that you decided to come here today.” Liam said, sending you a smile from across the circle. You forced one back, unable to hold his gaze for very long. “You’re not starting over again, y/n, you’re just starting to try harder.”

“Right,” you nodded, tracing the scarred stick-and-poke tattoo that was already fading away from the back of your hand. It did not feel like you were trying harder. If anything, it felt like you were closer to giving up.

If you had a shred of self awareness, you would have been able to see that because of that fact alone, you were trying harder than you ever had.

As Liam opened the floor for another poor soul, you thought over all you had said in your confessional. You wondered why you were feeling all of those things so strongly, and why they seemed to be worse today even in comparison to the days you spent sweating and shaking on a bathroom floor. Then, you remembered Vincent’s harsh words thrown your way the night prior, feeling yourself ache from the memory as if he was standing in front of you saying it all over again.

Vincent was your best friend, the one constant you had since packing your entire life up and moving across the country. He knew everything about you, held you at your worst and shared the happiest days. You cared so deeply about him, and definitely in a way stronger than friends, but you so badly wished you didn’t. Him knowing you so well made it easy for him to hurt you, and despite all the good he had and could still do, he consistently proved to you that he did not want to do good by you. He knew you so well, but it was the very reason why he had so much power to hurt you. Vincent wanted to love, but he did not know how. His feelings were fragile just as well as his ego, and he did not understand a thing about change. He was stuck in his way, never willing to see a different side of things, and because of that, it drove the two of you apart. The night prior, when he’d been so crude and unapologetic about his feelings about you and Danny, he wanted to hurt you in the same way he was hurting.

Lucky for him, he did just that, and even more so. He wanted to hurt, and hurt he did. It was so bad that you found yourself seeking comfort from strangers in an NA hall. It was so bad that it made you want to turn to drugs to take the ache away.

What he said stuck with you, and not just because he was the one who said it. Of course it hurt that he would say such terrible things to you, but you had grown used to Vincent taking his anger out on you in the form of harsh words and insults. Most of the time, you could brush it off after a while of sulking, but it hung over your head because you were terrified he was right. You liked Danny for many reasons, one being that he was nothing like Vincent. That being said, he was also nothing like you.

He did not know what it was like growing up with parents like yours, nor what it was like to spend most of his adolescence in and out of rehabilitation programs and therapy. He did not understand what it felt like to be at the police department, filing yet another missing persons report for his father, or better yet, getting detained for a night but unable to be held due to age. He did not know what it was like to run away from home every other weekend because sleeping under a park bench seemed more appealing than sharing a space with his mother. More than anything, he did not understand what it was like for drugs to take precedence over every other thing in his life. You certainly didn’t take him as such, and you were sure that by now, you would have seen some inkling that he was like you. You wanted to find anything that could relate to your tragic life, but there was nothing.

You looked back on all of your conversations, wondering if maybe you missed something he said, but it all aligned perfectly with Vincent’s venomous words. He played golf, specifically with his dad, he was traveling the world with his best friends to find ‘inspiration’ without needing to find a part time job in every city, and he confided in you once on a Sunday evening that he missed his mom.

Danny did not know what life was like for you, nor would he ever, even if he tried. Your struggle was completely foreign to him, and although he seemed like someone with a big heart and the desire to understand and sympathize with everyone he came across, you feared that once he knew all of you, he would run with no intention of ever coming back. You couldn’t blame him, because your baggage was too heavy for even yourself at times, but you would be lying if you said it didn’t hurt. It was a terrible feeling to have, knowing that no matter how much you like someone, you can never be completely transparent and honest with them about yourself. You would never expect him to accept the tragedies that accompanied you, and you felt foolish for thinking that you could have a relationship with someone so normal while you were so far from it.

You wanted him to be the one to take you away from such things, but you feared the tragedy ran so deep that you would be the one to bring him down with you.

Of course Vincent would be the one to point out your flaws and ruin a good thing before it happened.

Then again, you could not blame him, because you were equally as good at fucking things up.

You liked Danny too much to cut him off entirely, so you decided to continue on with the texting and calling, and even the laughing until 4am and the harmless flirting. You would cut it off when the time was right, just so you didn’t fall too hard for him. You knew it was best, because he was too good to get caught up in you. He was someone you could have fun with, to distract you while you built yourself back up. He would leave eventually anyway, and you would never have to think about it again. Your skies were much too dark for a rainbow, and now that you were thinking of it, you weren’t sure they had ever seen anything as bright as him. This way, you could enjoy him for the time being, but you wouldn’t get your heart broken when he decided you were too much for him. It was a win-win for both of you.

Even if you chose to believe such things, you failed to see that you had already gotten your heart broken at the idea of being too broken. Your current situation made you believe all of the previous notions even more deeply, because you had not even faced rejection at Danny’s hands and you were already sitting in a talk circle listening to people drone on about their love of smack and resentment towards their family for keeping them away from it. You were fragile enough that you’d hurt your own feelings with feeble ideas and assumptions, and you were so weak that it nearly killed your ambition to stay sober. Most of all, you were selfish for wanting to subject Danny to such things at all.

That was one habit you could not kick when you got sober; you were a selfish being who loved to feel good, and now that you could not get high, you had to search for thrills elsewhere. Danny made you feel good, and so good that you could not fathom giving that up even if it was better for everyone to do so.

The meeting wrapped up later than usual, mostly due to Carol’s inconsolable crying as she blubbered on about her youngest daughter's wedding and how her invitation got ‘lost in the mail’. You bit your tongue, knowing that correcting her assumptions about the situation would do no good and would only get you a scolding from Liam (and those were the worst). You made sure your phone and your cigarettes were in your pocket before standing, feeling the muffins bounce against your leg. As if on cue, your stomach growled at the memory of the double chocolate treat that was wrapped in plastic, awaiting your attention. Liam instructed everyone to stop by before they left, to which only some of the attendees obliged to. Despite your growing stomach and desire to leave, you complied with the request and approached him before making your departure.

You were the first in line to speak with him, but it did not come as a surprise; usually you were the only one willing to see him once the hour was up. He still had his clipboard in his hand, his pen hovering over the paper as he searched for your name and crossed it off. “You’ve got a thing for apple juice,” he noted, looking up over the frames of his (seemingly expensive) glasses.

“What?” You chuckled, curious as to what he meant.

“You talk about apple juice at every meeting. Is that code for something else, or do you really just like it that much?” Now, you laughed, finding his inquiry less invasive and much more amusing.

“Not code,” you shook your head, the smile lingering on your lips. “I just really like it. When I was a kid, it was the only type of juice my mom would let me drink. Guess it reminds me of easier times, or maybe I still wish apple juice was the only addiction I had to worry about. I don’t really drink it anymore because I worry that I’m trading a drug addiction for an apple juice addiction. In my head, neither are good.” You theorized, looking towards the ground for a moment.

“I see,” he chuckled, reaching over and grabbing his bag and pulling out a red key tag. He handed it to you, smiling at the sight. “Three months as of tomorrow. I feel like I can trust you enough to give it to you a day early. Some motivation to get through the weekend.”

“Right,” you nodded, forcing a smile as you reached for it. “Maybe it would mean more if it was my first time.” You couldn’t help but feel some resentment at the sight. It was your second time getting a red key tag, and it lost all of its novelty once you had to give up the blue tag that signified six months. You almost had your hands on a yellow one, but you fell just shy of nine months after one particularly reckless night at the Pony. You’d had an arrangement of surrender and thirty day markers, but they were less catastrophic to lose when you started over again. Knowing you had nearly a year under your belt just to throw it all away made you sick to your stomach.

“You have to celebrate the little victories, y/n. You can’t always feel like you’re failing, because you’ll never have any motivation to get better.” He said, giving you a stern look.

“But it doesn’t really get better, Liam. It doesn’t matter if I have three months or three years, I’ll still be an addict and I’ll still want it just the same.” You shifted uncomfortably on your feet. “Recovery is just a bandage to keep yourself together. The longer this goes on, the more I feel like I’ll actually be seventy and still feel this way.”

“It’s easier to see when you’re further away from it. Right now, it’s all you know, but that doesn’t mean it will always be all that you know. Life grows around you, but you have to choose if you want to grow with it, or get lost in it.” He explained. You took the tag, shoving it in your pocket. You knew he was right, but it was easier to feel miserable than it was to be hopeful. It felt better when misery was proven wrong rather than when hopefulness was crushed. “You’re doing better than you think. You have three months under your belt. It doesn’t matter that it’s for a second time, it matters that you did it. Some people don’t even get there once.”

“I know.” You cleared your throat, fighting the tears rising in your throat. “Thanks, Liam. I’ll see you next week.” You said, finally looking to meet his eyes.

“Hold on,” he said, reaching back into his bag. You watched for a moment, wondering what he was searching for. Then, after a moment of uncomfortable silence, he pulled out a bottle from his bag. You looked to the ceiling, feeling your face burn and tears rush to your eyes. “I brought it for lunch, but now I think I brought it for a much different reason. You need it more than I do.”

“Liam, I can’t take that.” You shook your head, still looking at the peeling paint at the top of the walls.

“I insist.” He said, using a tone of finality. After a few seconds, you took a deep breath and looked towards him once again. Once you saw the certainty in his eyes, you reached out and took the bottle of apple juice from him with gratitude written all over your face. “Sometimes things are just as simple as apple juice, y/n, not the big complicated mess that you try and turn everything into. It’s not a metaphor, and you’re not trading apples for oranges. It’s a bottle of juice that’s going to make you feel better, and it’s something that won’t hurt you unless you make it into something bigger. You can enjoy it and not have to feel bad about it, just like you’re allowed to fuck up and still believe that you can do better.” He explained, giving you a smile. “You’re in control, whether that means getting high or drinking juice. You decide whether you should or not. Today, you decided to come here instead of getting high, and right now, you’re deciding to drink juice. You’re capable of doing better and being better, because you already have. Don’t convince yourself otherwise.”

“Your right,” You took in a long breath, closing your eyes to regain yourself. “Thank you, Liam.”

“No need for thanks.” He brushed you off, straightening up in his seat. “You have a number to call if you need it this weekend, right?”

“I do.”

“And you’ll use it?” He raised an eyebrow.

“I will.” You nodded. He did too, happy with your answer.

“Okay. I’ll see you next week.” He gave you permission to leave, happy that he seemed to have helped. You were a tough nut to crack, between your raging self-destructive attitude and your inability to see the positive side of things, but he was happy to be the one to finally make the difference.

You walked out the front door (sipping on apple juice, thanks to Liam), finding that the air had warmed since you had gone inside. The sun was brighter and the wind was less intense, making your spirits brighten as it gave you a promise of summer. You reached into your pocket to grab a cigarette, finding your chest had loosened from its earlier tension and your migraine begin to subside. As you pulled out your pack, you grumbled at the lightness of it. When you flipped the top open, revealing one last cigarette (upside down for luck, of course), you closed your eyes as you tried not to let the disappointment consume you. You wondered if you had enough money to buy another, hating yourself and the world for having to choose between paying rent or buying the only thing that was keeping you sane.

As you reached for your phone to check your account balance, the screen lit up to show the time. It was already well past twelve thirty, yet that wasn’t the thing that caught your attention. Below the bold numbers was a missed call, which was followed by an incoming text only a few moments later.

“Fuck!” You exploded, uncaring of the passerby’s giving you strange looks.

The addiction had been so pertinent that it allowed you to forget about your anticipated plans with the incredibly cute and sweet boy you couldn’t stop thinking about.

You dialed the number back, pressing the phone to your ear. Within seconds he answered, his cheery tone warming your heart immediately. “Utah! I was wondering when I’d hear from you. Was worried you forgot about me.”

“I’m so sorry Danny,” you sighed, looking around at the people passing you by. “I, uh… I had an appointment I forgot about.”

“That’s okay. How long are you gonna be? Or do you just want to call it off and reschedule?” His understanding was astounding, but it did not make you feel better; it was gut wrenching, and it made it so much harder to keep your heart out of things. Danny seemed fun, sure, but he also seemed like someone you could easily fall in love with. You were playing very a dangerous game.

“No, I’m all good now.” You promised. “If you still want to hang, of course.” The morning has thrown you so violently off course that you were doubting everything, including his interest in your despite him being the one who called first.

“F’course I do.” He chuckled. “I called, didn’t I?”

“Yeah,” you forced a chuckle, having to agree with him.

“You okay, Utah?” He asked, now seeming a bit concerned. “You don’t sound like yourself.”

“Oh, yeah. I’m fine.” You assured him. “Was just a rough morning is all, I’m okay now.”

“Hopefully I can make the rest of the day better, then.” He replied, sympathizing with your rough start to the day. He had no idea, but hearing his voice alone had already brightened your spirits. “We’re just driving around. We’re near the Fox if you want me to pick you up, or we can meet somewhere if that’s easier for you.”

“If I send you an address, you think you can find it?” You smirked, knowing he was in unfamiliar territory. You remembered how disoriented you felt when you first came to New York, wondering if he felt the same, or if he was one of those people who didn’t worry about anything at all.

“I’m sure the two of us could figure it out.”

“Whatever you say, Michigan.” You grinned. “See you in a few.”

“Can’t wait.” He said, sincerity laced within his tone.

With that, you ended the call and proceeded to check your bank account, happy to see you had more than you thought. You looked around, checking for cars before jumping off the front porch of the old church and crossing the street. As you cut through an old alleyway, you texted Danny the name of the gas station you were headed to, knowing you would be there before him. There was no way in hell you were going to let him pick you up from an NA hall on your first ‘date’.

Of course, you had little hope that it would be a real date at all, nor did you think that any date like activities would ensue afterwards. They were probably just looking for something to pass the time, and you served as a great tour guide.

As you walked through an old parking lot after the alley, you could already see the old sign for the store. You waited to cross the busy street, and when you saw a break in traffic, you sprinted to the other side. By doing so, it seemed like you instantly left the rough part of the neighbourhood. Fancy cars drove by and women in expensive clothes walked in and out of the convenience store. All the same, you felt immediately out of place.

Tired and still not feeling the best, you tossed the empty apple juice bottle in the garbage, pushing through the door and walking inside. It was moderately busy, but not enough to be bothersome to you. Before running to the register to grab a pack of cigarettes, you walked towards the back of the store where the candy aisle was located. Without much effort, you found the biggest bag of Warheads sour candy that you could see. After that, you turned towards the drink coolers and grabbed the cheapest energy drink. Satisfied with your choices, you walked to the register and placed the items on the counter. The older lady who was working gave you a long look, studying you as she rang in the items.

“Pack of reds?” She asked, already reaching towards the cabinet before you answered.

“How’d you know?” You chuckled, knowing that every few days you came in for the exact same thing.

“Think you’re the only one who buys these.” She said, looking over the bag of sour candy. “Have no idea how you can stand eating them.” She chuckled, watching as you tapped your card against the reader.

“They’re not half bad.” You smiled, waving her off as she tried to hand you the receipt. In truth, you didn’t love them. You had grown to tolerate most sour foods as it was an easy way to curb the craving for the things you could not have. The sourness was a shock, immediately distracting you from the relentless thoughts, and the sugar gave a nice dopamine rush that made you feel better for a few moments. You repeated the process until your tongue was in too much pain to have another, and by then, you were over the worst of the craving. “Have a good day!” You called over your shoulder as you walked out the door, not hanging around for long enough to hear an answer.

As the door shut behind you, you grabbed the last cigarette from your pack and struck the lighter. As the flame ignited the tip, you heard a commotion off to the side of the store where the bulk of the parking lot was. You turned, curious about the sound, but you were not stuck wondering about it for very long. As you focused your eyes under the blazing sun, your gaze fixated on a Jeep, but it was not the vehicle that kept your attention. Instead, it was the curly haired boy hanging his head out the window with a blinding smile on his lips. You could not help but smile back as he waved you over, uncaring about hiding his excitement to see you.

“Long time no see, Utah.” He greeted you as you walked within earshot. “Told you I could find my way around New York.”

“Seems like it.” You chuckled, taking a drag from your cigarette. Without any further comment, he opened the car door and stepped outside with you. “I’m glad you found me. Saves me from sending a search party out for you.”

“You really had such little faith in me?” He raised an eyebrow, his sunglasses sadly blocking your view of his pretty brown eyes.

“It doesn’t matter anyway, ‘cause you proved me wrong.” You grinned, already feeling the hurt in your chest begin to subside. When you were in his company, it was hard to feel sad about anything. He was so easygoing and excited about life that it was difficult to feel any differently than him. Then, he reached forward and pulled you into a hug, which made your stomach twist and your heart flutter. What would normally be an awkward moment, felt nothing like it. It was comfortable, it was safe, and it was right. You wrapped your arm around him, making sure to keep your cigarette away from his expensive looking jacket so you did not burn it.

The small gesture made all of your fears obsolete; he wanted to be with you, to hang out and waste the day with you. He was disappointed at the idea of cancelling plans, and overjoyed at the prospect of seeing you. He was genuine, and he was nothing like Vincent was trying to portray him as. You didn’t have to feel stupid for liking him so much in such a short time, because he felt the same way.

“I’m glad we didn’t have to cancel, Utah. Been looking forward to seeing you all morning.”

“Me, too.” You breathed. “I’m sorry I forgot about the appointment. Promise I wasn’t trying to blow you off.” You explained, still trying to hold on to the lingering scent of his cologne as he let go.

“No worries, I’m just glad you’re okay. And I’m glad you didn’t change your mind.” He confessed, a sheepish smile crossing his lips. “We still have a few hours before you have to get to work. I’m sure there’s lots we can do by then.”

“Yeah, for sure.” You nodded. “So what about this Sam guy I’ve been hearing all about? Is he imaginary?” You said, looking to the front seat to see nobody else in the car.

“That’s me,” You jumped in surprise when a head popped out from the backseat. A smiling face stuck between the two front seats let you know that Sam was in fact real. The tint on the windows allowed for him to stay concealed, but it did not answer any questions about why he was sitting in the backseat. Then, a second head popped out from between the seats, but this one was much cuter than the two boys combined. “And this is Rosie. Hope you like dogs.” Sam grinned, reaching up and wrapping an arm around her.

“Hi,” you laughed, unable to keep a straight face at the sight. “And I definitely do. No need to worry about that.”

“She is pretty, Daniel. You were right.” At that, your cheeks turned red, but not nearly as badly as Danny’s did.

“I should have left him at home.” Danny muttered, shaking his head at his friend.

“No worries,” you said, reaching out and landing a soft hand on his arm. “Good to know you think I’m pretty.”

“As if that wasn’t obvious enough.” He said, looking down at your hand on his arm for a moment, then back up at your face. The two of you shared a glance for a moment, wondering how it seemed so easy between you despite you barely knowing each other. You wanted more, to know him and to spend every afternoon making jokes and laughing. You wanted to kiss him, and you had since the very first time you laid eyes on him. He seemed like he wanted it too, yet the both of you remained frozen in place, neither one of you having enough courage to move first. “So, you have any ideas for what we can do today?” He changed the topic, too nervous to continue staring.

“Depends on what kind of day you want to have.” You said, only mildly disappointed at the change of subject. You knew that kissing him right now in that moment was not the wisest idea, especially with his best friend observing the both of you so closely. Plus, you feared that if you leaned forward and captured him in a kiss, you would only be doing so in hopes of covering up all of the misery from the morning. If you were to kiss him, you wanted to be certain it was for the right reason. “There’s a park not too far from here. It’s a super nice spot, not too many people go. I’m sure Rosie would love it.” You said, motioning to the dog that was clinging to Sam’s side. “Or there’s a few shops a few streets over. I think they’re all pet friendly. I see lots of people in an out of there with loads of different pets.”

“We can do both if you want.” Danny offered, looking inside the vehicle momentarily to see if Sam was in agreement.

“Okay,” you nodded, taking the last drag from your cigarette and tossing the butt into a nearby puddle. The snow was long gone now, replaced with rain as dampness lingered on the ground to remind you of the winter. You were excited for warmer weather, and the sun in the sky seemed to be promising of a nice day.

“Hop in, Utah.” Danny nodded his head towards his car, but quickly second guessed his choice. He took a step in your direction, but walked past you and to the other side of the car, opening the passenger door for you. You followed after him, sheepishly climbing into the vehicle after muttering a small thanks. Within seconds, he was back in the drivers side, smiling over at you. “You just tell me where to go and I’ll drive.” As he spoke, Rose seemed to be fighting with Sam to try and get to the front seat, intrigued at your presence and excited to get to know you.

You sat the bag of candy down beside your leg on the seat, then placed the energy drink in the empty cup holder. You slid your lighter in your pocket and shifted around to get a better look at the dog that seemed so eager to greet you. “Hi, baby.” You reached out cautiously, not wanting to scare her. She sniffed your hands for a moment, which quickly turned to licking, then she shoved her head into your hands so you would pet her. As you scratched behind her ear, Sam seemed to be laughing at the two of you.

“She likes you… We’re gonna have to keep you around.” Sam deducted, his hand still resting on her back. You noticed he was holding the back of her harness, ensuring she wouldn’t proceed any further than she already had.

“I guess so.” You chuckled.

“Is that… breakfast?” Danny asked, stifling a laugh as he looked down at the bag of candy and the beverage you had purchased. He’d been trying to hold the question back, but it seemed too pressing to ignore. You looked down at the items he was referring to, feeling a small blush dust across your cheeks.

“So what if it is?” You shot back, trying to keep your tone light despite feeling defensive over the fact. He let out a chuckle, shaking his head at you for a moment. You reached down, tearing the bag open and grabbing one of the candies. You extended your arm towards him with a stupid smile on your lips. “Want one?” He watched you for a moment, trying to figure out if you were being serious. His gaze flickered to your hand and eventually, he reached out to grab it.

“Do you want something to eat? You know, other than caffeine and cigarettes?” He offered, a smirk stuck on his lips.

“No,” you shook your head, reaching into one of your large coat pockets. You pulled out one of the wrapped muffins, flashing him a smile. “That’s what this is for.”

“You really came prepared, then. I can appreciate that.” He laughed, not sure if he was willing to accept you having only a muffin for breakfast. Then again, he didn’t necessarily feel like it was his place to say anything, even if he wished he could.

“Yeah, you can say that.” You chuckled. “If you cut through the parking lot and go down that little side street,” you paused, pointing in the direction of the street that was just barely visible. “And you drive down the road for a while, there’s this cute little antique shop that I think is pretty cool.” You explained, sitting back in the comfortable seat. It was way better than the leather seats in Vincent’s old car, but you neglected that thought. You shouldn’t have been thinking about Vincent at all. Instead, your focus should be on the boy sitting across from you, the very one you stayed up until sunrise writing about in your journal. The same one you had been texting until you were too tired to respond, and the one who infiltrated your dreams and put a smile on your face even during sleep.

You did not know Danny very well, but you knew him well enough to know that since meeting him, the world seemed a little bit brighter. The rain was less dreary and not even the bitter wind could bring you down. You were excited to wake up, happy even to foot the phone bill that was usually paid with a twenty dollar bill, because the new price meant that Danny had not grown tired of talking to you. You wrote in your journal until your fingers felt like they would fall off, and you had a growing collection of notes scribbled on scrap paper left on the dirty tables at the Fox. He gave you something to look forward to, and he gave you something to smile about. When you finished talking to him, you were not plagued with guilt or worry like you often were when you spoke with Vincent. You did not know Danny well, but you wanted to, and you were determined to. You made a pact with yourself to know him as well as you could by the end of the day, because you never wanted to stop learning about him.

And Sam now, too. You could not forget about him and his big personality sitting behind you just out of sight.

“To the cute little antique shop, then.” Danny said, smiling as he reversed out of the parking space and drove in the direction you told him to. “So what makes this place so special?”

“What?” You chuckled, looking over at him.

“It’s gotta mean something to you if it’s the first place you thought of.”

‘Damn him and his observant self.’

“Yeah, I guess.” You nodded. “I go there a lot. Was one of the first places I found after I moved here. I bought a journal there my first day in the city, and I used it until there was no way I could fit anything else in it.” You explained. “They have lots of old paintings and household stuff, and a huge collection of records and books. They get most of their stuff from estate sales and the rest of it from people who were sick of looking at it.”

“Do you collect records or books?” He asked, curious about your hobbies other than writing.

“No,” you shook your head. “I have some books, but I write a lot more than I read, so I don’t really see a need to buy more than I’ll ever need. I love the records, and I would buy them if I had a record player. Been trying to save up for one, but it never seems to work out.” You smiled, looking over at him. It did not break your heart that you didn’t have a record player, mostly because it was a luxury, and you were used to never having anything luxurious. You were thankful for the roof over your head and food to eat, and unless those were taken away, complaining wasn’t something you were fond of.

“What records would you buy if you had a player?” Sam asked, piping in from the backseat. You took a moment to think about it, but eventually settled on the first ones that came to mind.

“Bringing It All Back Home by Bob Dylan,” you said, confident in your answer. “I remember my grandfather playing over and over again until my grandmother was so fed up she turned it off herself.” You chuckled. “Harvest by Neil Young, too. He was a big fan of that one.”

“Good choices.” Sam commented, surprised by your answer.

“Can’t Buy a Thrill!” You exploded, unsure how you could forget such a monumental album.

“Steely Dan?” Danny looked over at you from the drivers seat, intrigued by your enthusiasm. There was a smile still lingering on his lips as you looked over at him, the sight nearly taking your breath away.

“The first time I heard ‘Dirty Work’, it changed my whole life. My brothers got so sick of it that they would pay me to turn it off. They’re not the brightest though, cause I made at least a hundred bucks off of them.” Both boys got a good chuckle out of the thought.

“Noted,” Danny said, switching between watching you and the road. “How many brothers do you have?”

“Two,” you replied. “Both older. Patrick is 26 now, and he works for some fancy tech company back home. Hunter is 25 and works at a construction company.”

“Are you close with them?” He continued to ask questions in hopes that he could know you better than anyone else. Knowing you was his top priority, much like how you wanted to know him.

“Not as much since I moved away from home, but yeah. Even when we were kids, we did everything together.” You explained, not wanting to dive too deep into it. You were close not by choice, but out of necessity. Your family was so fundamentally fucked up that relying on your siblings was the only way to survive. “You said you had a sister, right? You mentioned her the other night when we were talking.” He nodded at your words, happy that you remembered the small detail. Little did he know, you clung to every word that left his mouth. “Just her, or do you have more siblings?”

“Just her, but Sam is close enough.”

“Do you have siblings, Sam?”

“Three of ‘em.” He chuckled.

“So you were never bored growing up, I take it.”

“Never.” He confirmed, giving you a smile from the backseat.

“The store’s just up here on the left,” you told Danny, glancing over at him. You couldn’t help but admire him for a moment, finding that the sun was shining on him in the most perfect way. It illuminated his already glowing cheeks, shadowed by the curls of his hair hanging over his shoulders. The sunglasses sat atop his nose, but with the sun shining on the dark lenses, you could see him looking over at you, too.

Danny pulled into an available parking space that you pointed out, looking around the streets as people walked by. Many had leashed dogs and coffee cups in their hands. The scarves wrapped around their necks made it seem like it was colder than it was, and so did the expensive coats. You always felt slightly out of place when you visited the shops. They were decorated with people screaming with wealth. Leather handbags and clothing that had never experienced a tear or a stain. You knew you were from the poor part of town, your apartment complex falling apart and homeless people littering the sidewalks and alleyways by your home. The corner stores and bars were in just as bad shape as the Fox, and the skyscrapers stopped tickling the skyline about a mile out from the section of the city you called home.

You didn’t mind it, but you did fear that the other two would if you brought them by your place. You were always conscious of what others thought, even if you knew you shouldn’t care. It was much easier said than done, and even if you believed you weren’t doing that bad, you were doing quite poorly in comparison to the majority of the population. The discounted rate on rent from subsidized housing was the only reason you could afford your shitty apartment, and even if you had made it into a home, it was far from flashy. The entire building looked like it would give way under a strong wind, and the inside was only slightly better. You covered most of the holes and peeling paint with art, but it only went so far. The appliances were older than you, and the landlord had aesthetically fixed all of the major issues, but it did not help the structural integrity.

You always felt out of place when you were in a store, no matter fancy or not. You feared your card would decline every time, and you wondered if the few items in your refrigerator and cupboards would last you until next payday if you purchased anything extra. Most people tried not to pass judgement when they realized your economic status, but you could see it in their eyes. It was pity more than anything else, but you would be lying if you said it did not bother you. It killed you to think that Danny would look inwards at your life and feel the same things, but you knew it was a possibility. Unfortunately, as much as you wished it wasn’t, not only was it always a possibility, but a reality.

“You ready?” Danny asked, breaking your focus from your internal brooding.

“Yeah, f’course.” You nodded, pushing a smile on your lips. You got out first, stepping on the sidewalk and turning to face the vehicle as you waited for the other two to join you. Danny stepped out first while Sam made sure Rose was leashed properly. Not long after, the other two were walking happily to accompany you. You looked at the door, smiling as you saw the little sticker with the silhouette of a dog encased in a big green circle. “See, Rosie?” You grinned, looking down at her. At the sound of her name, her tail began to wag as her tongue hung happily out of the side of her mouth. “Told you they’d let you in.”

With that, Danny stepped towards the door, letting his hand fall on the small of your back. The gentle touch was barely noticeable, yet it turned your whole world upside down. Your stomach erupted into butterflies and your heart sped, and you began to question your own sanity. A man had never before made you feel so strongly from such a small action, especially an innocent one. You all stepped inside, taken by the scent of old books and oil paint. The store smelled the same every time, and when you got closer to the register, you could notice essential oils and brewed coffee. It was a comforting feeling when you stepped inside, familiar as if you had lived a thousand lives inside that store alone.

“I’m gonna check out the paintings.” Sam said, his eyes immediately catching on the fancy frames and landscapes encased inside.

“Sam’s a bit of an art whore.” Danny mumbled, turning his head down to look at you. He was standing closer than usual, definitely closer than he would at the dinner, but you certainly weren’t complaining.

“Aren’t we all?” You challenged, wishing he would move closer.

“True,” he nodded. “If you don’t like art, you’ve gotta be a pretty disappointing person.” You let out a laugh, abrupt and loud at the harsh words coming from such a sweet mouth.

“Right.” You nodded, wondering if it was possible to live in the moment forever. It was so simple with his hand on your back and a laugh stuck between your teeth. The world didn’t seem so terrible, and unlike how life normally felt, the small world the two of you were existing within seemed right. There was no fear of the unknown, no guilt or shame, and it didn’t feel forced. You felt like you’d spent 23 years of your life faking it, but with him, the connection felt real and not based on any external factors. It was simple attraction and nothing further than the fact that the two of you got along well. “Come with me,” you whispered, nodding your head in the direction of your favourite room in the entire shop.

The building was quite similar to that of a townhouse, and if you had to guess, you imagined it once was. They allocated the different rooms for each genre of items they sold. There was a record room, a room for books, home decor, and clothes that looked to be made decades ago. The main area had the register and was plastered with paintings and posters all waiting for someone to take them home, and miscellaneous items were displayed on tables within various rooms. Most of the things inside the store were much too expensive for you to even imagine buying, but every now and again you stumbled across a tiny treasure that you could afford to bring home with you. Sometimes, they heavily discounted things when they were getting ready to bring in new items, so you knew to keep your eye out for any advertising signs.

When you passed through the doorway, Danny was still close behind. He took a few moments to look around the room, taking it all in. After a while of shared silence, he let out a long exhale. “Wow.” He stated, unwilling to leave your side despite being eager to look around.

“It’s great, right?” You chuckled, taking in the shelves full of vinyl records. “I knew a music guy like you would have to appreciate it.”

“Music guy…” he trailed off, looking down at you for a moment. “You remembered?”

“Obviously.” You gave him a soft smile. “Drums, guitar, little bit of mandolin if I remember correctly.”

“You do,” he breathed, a bit surprised at how well you remembered his late night rambling.

“F’course I do.” You reiterated your point, cementing the notion in his brain. Instead of dwelling, you guided him towards the shelves holding the baskets of records. Absentmindedly, you began flipping through the vinyls, hoping he would, too. When he finally took your lead and began his own search, you spoke again. “M’sorry again about earlier. I hope you didn’t think I was trying to ditch you.”

“I actually didn’t think that at all.” He chuckled, taking his time as he read over the name of every album. “I mean, maybe for like a minute, but I honestly thought you slept in a bit longer than usual. I didn’t want to call you—was worried I would wake you.” He pulled one sleeve out above the rest, taking an interest for a moment before putting it back. “You seemed really tired when we were talking on the phone last night.” You froze as his words hit you, suddenly remembering the sleep-laced conversation and nervous butterflies that plagued your entire body. You remembered mumbling sentiments while your wrist wrote out the deepest desires of your heart on paper. Then, you remembered falling asleep, but not a goodbye.

“Did I… did I fall asleep on the phone?” You asked, looking over at him. Redness began to creep up on your cheeks as you waited for an answer.

“Yeah,” he nodded, saying it as if the instance was completely normal. “Thought it was cute.” You bit down on the inside of your lip, praying that your face wasn’t giving away your feelings yet knowing it was. Then, the strangeness of the situation hit you and you could not hold back your inquiries.

“Speaking of… what the hell were you doing up at six in the morning?” You asked, turning the tables on him. He glanced over at you without turning his head, suspicious without even speaking. “Actually, you seem to be awake every morning when I get off work.” It was a question that crossed your mind more often than not, yet you never seemed to care to ask.

“Early riser.” He shrugged, hoping to avoid the topic entirely.

“Right…” you trailed off, less focused on the crumbling vinyl sleeves and more focused on the crimson of his cheeks. “See, that would be believable, but considering you were at the diner at one in the morning last night, I don’t think that’s the case.” You pressed further. “No way you’re so cheery for a man who only got four hours of sleep.”

“Okay, you caught me.” He sighed, pretending to be upset about your discovery. Truth was, he knew he would have to fess up sooner or later, and sooner seemed to be his only option. “I usually wake up for a little while to talk to you when you get home, and then I go back to sleep when you do.”

You were stunned at the thought, mostly because you could not comprehend someone wanting to talk to you so badly. The effort and thought that went into setting an alarm every morning at six was far beyond anything anyone else had ever done for you. You wanted to chastise him, but it was a bit too touching for you to make a joke out of it.

“You don’t have to do that, Danny.” You whispered, hoping he would look over at you so you could catch sight of the beautiful brown eyes you��d grown to love so much. “I love talking to you, but not if you’re losing sleep over it.”

“It’s not like I have anything else to do.” He dismissed you. “Besides, I want to. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t.”

For some strange reason, you wished he answered differently. Not because you wanted him to care less, but because you were terrified of him caring at all.

Everything you touched always seemed to turn to dust, and Danny was someone you could not fathom inflicting that fate upon.

“Unless you don’t want me to?” He said, taking your silence as something bad.

“No,” you shook your head. “No… I mean if you want to—if you’re okay with doing it, I definitely don’t mind.”

“Then it’s settled,” he hummed, switching to a different bin to search through. “They have some good stuff here.” He said, pulling out a blue coloured album. You glanced over, recognizing the sight immediately. A smile crossed your face as you watched him.

“Joni Mitchell.” You stated, craning your neck to get a better look.

“You know this album?” He asked, looking back at you over his shoulder.

“Yeah,” you scoffed, stepping towards him. “My grandpa might have liked Dylan, but my grandma loved Joni Mitchell.” You were right behind him now, close enough that you could have placed a hand on him had you been courageous enough.

“You talk about your grandparents a lot.” He noted. “You close with them?” He could hear your breath hitch in your throat as he finished speaking, wondering if maybe he never should have spoken at all. After a moment, you recovered enough to answer.

“I was, yeah.” You cleared your throat, covering up the strain of the words. “I spent most of my time there, actually. My grandma was my best friend, and my grandpa was a close second. He passed away when I was fifteen, and she passed away not long before I moved here. If they were still around, i probably never would have moved at all.” He turned towards you, letting the record slide back to its original place. His hand landed delicately on your hip, but in no way did it appear romantic. Even if your face was stony, he could see the pain plaguing your eyes.

“I’m sorry, Utah. I didn’t mean to bring that up for you.”

“It’s not your fault,” you shook your head. “I love talking about them, and I’m glad you asked.” You assured him. A small smile crossed his lips, stunned by your resilience to pain.

“I’d love to hear more about them, if you ever feel like talking.” His hand on your hip still remained, and the longer he touched you, the more comfortable it became. You never wanted him to stop. Suddenly, it all became a little too real for you. You blinked twice, bringing yourself back to reality as you turned back towards the record bins.

You wanted it, but you did not know how to let it happen. You were so good at making bad decisions that it seemed inherently bad to choose the right thing.

“Yeah, maybe.” You nodded, knowing that you never would. Then again, never is a strong word, and for some strange reason you had the impression that Danny was someone you could trust. Maybe someday, ‘never’ would turn out to be a distant memory.

You stepped towards another shelf, your eye catching a familiar cover. Carefully, you reached out, sliding it from the stack of records to get a better look. “Oh, wow.” You breathed, buzzing with excitement and nearly forgetting about the heavy conversation seconds before. “Look at this.” You said, catching Danny’s attention without breaking your stare from the vinyl.

He stepped up behind you, much closer than you were anticipating. Your back was nearly pressed against his chest and his hand lingered gently on your side. You knew he could see perfectly over your head; the height difference made it seem like he towered over you. He did so as an excuse to be close to you, and no other reason. You were okay with it, because for the few seconds you had stepped away from him, you’d already grown to miss the feeling.

“Bella Donna,” he said, studying the familiar sight. “Stevie Nicks fan?”

“Who isn’t?” You chuckled, turning it over to check the back of it. All of the records were secondhand, but it made them all the more special. Not only did they come with fantastic tracklists, but a story within every fraying edge and fading color. “She’s fantastic. She’s… everything.” Danny was silent for a moment, taking in your statement. When he finally answered, he wasn’t looking at the album, but rather at you.

“Yeah, she is.” The conviction in his tone made you pause your previous train of thought, turning to look at him as he gazed down upon you. It was evident that Stevie Nicks has long fled his train of thought. You didn’t have the courage to call him on it, so instead, you enjoyed the fleeting feeling of finally being important to someone. It was something you hadn’t felt in a long time, and even when you could remember a time when you did, it felt nothing like it did then. You were overwhelmed with the urge to kiss him, unable to comprehend how he seemed so perfect. Every word that left his mouth drew you in, every smile melted your heart, and every touch (albeit few and far between) took your breath away.

You were waiting for something to show, or to peek through the perfect exterior he’d put on for you. You longed for something to appear that could demolish the pedestal you had placed him upon, but it never seemed to come. You knew that with time, you were bound to find something that would taint your view of him, whether it be something major or a plethora of tiny things that steadily creeped up on you. Nobody could be without fault, and the fact that he’d gone so long without showing you any bad traits made you worry that when he did, it would be worse than anything you ever imagined.

Maybe that was your problem; you could not bear the thought of something going well for you, so you self-sabotaged by actively looking for something that would force you to run away.

Most of the time, there was nothing to find, and you were running from a monster created by your very own mind.

When you thought about it for too long, the more it seemed like running was the only thing you had ever known how to do.

You could not wrap your head around the idea of wanting to stay, but as Danny looked down at you with emotion stronger than lust in his eyes, you knew there was nothing else you would rather do. You wondered if running was always your first choice because nobody ever cared enough to give you a reason to stay. You’d known Danny for a short time, so short that he was nearly a stranger. You didn’t know his middle name, or his birthday, or even his favourite color. Despite that, you knew that the feeling of his company was something you’d searched for your entire life, and up until now, you’d only ever found it in one other thing. The difference was, you were confident in saying that the aftermath of Danny’s company was nothing like the aftermath of a good high. He seemed fulfilling, like his aura would surround you long after he left and the feeling in your heart would last even if he was not within reach.

If you weren’t so stubborn, you would have noticed that it had already affected you in such ways. When you stretched your wrist, it ached from all of the writing you had been doing in the early hours of the morning. When you woke that very morning with urges stronger than ever before, your first thought was to go to a meeting rather than submitting to the temptations of substance. You weren’t dreading waking up, nor were you struggling to sleep.

Danny did not fix your life for you, but he did make it easier to cope with. He could not fix problems he did not know existed, nor could he do so even if he knew your troubles. Instead, he allowed you to see a brighter side of life than what you’d grown so comfortable with. He helped you feel excitement for the next day and the possibilities it held. He gave you a person to talk to, making your nights much less lonely. He gave you the feeling of being wanted, and for nothing greater than the feeling of mutual want itself. He didn’t want to see you for ulterior motives, and he did not want anything more out of the interaction. He simply enjoyed your company, and it made you feel more human than you had since you were a child.

You’d been standing for so long in the same position that you feared you’d both turn to stone with your faces hovering inches apart. You did not want to suffer an eternity waiting to kiss, only for the moment to never come, but in that moment it appeared to be your destiny. He was leaned down slightly, and you were straining upwards, but there seemed to be a barrier between you two. The world was begging you to harness the courage to lean forward and close the gap, and as your noses brushed together, even the still-photograph of Stevie was pleading with you not to let cowardice win. Your heart was pounding in your ears, and your stomach was twisted in a knot that seemed to be suffocating you the longer you sat there.

He was so close, the scent of his cologne surrounding you once again, this time much more powerful than the last. You were angry that he wouldn’t make the move first, but appreciated his concern for your comfort. You’d fallen into the position so easily, as if it were natural for the two of you to be together in such a way. You could practically feel his lips on yours despite the distance still existing between you. Perhaps it was so easy to imagine because you wanted it so badly. He reached up, tucking your hair behind your ear before he cupped your cheek in his hand. The touch made your lungs burn, inherently causing you to forget how to breathe.

You had never felt so good. You had never felt so alive. You wondered, if his company felt so rewarding even after such a short period of time, what would months feel like with your heart and soul entangled in his. For once, the unknown was exciting rather than paralyzing. As gravity pulled you closer, you began to believe that you could live in the unknown with Danny until the end of time, and it would be inexplicably better than existing within the known without him by your side. He was so close, and it was hard not to jump. You wanted everything all at once, but savoring him seemed like the only option. His lips were nearly brushing against your own, and despite your earlier efforts at shoving the feelings away, you needed him to close the gap between you. You needed it like water, but you were so parched that you couldn’t speak the words nor go in search of it yourself.

You knew how foolish it was to leave your fate in the hands of another, but for once, not even your own psyche seemed to be able to ruin the moment for you.

part two is soon to be yours 🤍

TAGLIST: @imleavingyoufornewyork @itsafullmoon @bladenotblaze @jessicafg03 @dont-go-home-without-me @peaceloveunitygvf @torniturntomyarrow @lostoverseer @clairesjointshurt @jordie-gvf @lallisonl @smoking-jakelane @gretavangirlie @hollyco

[milfgyuu]

Heart & Seoul | Ch. 14 [M] END

❥ Pairing(s): Jeon Wonwoo x Fem!Reader

❥ Series Tags: Series, Exes to Lovers!AU, Fluff, Mild Angst, Mutual Pining, Humor, Romance, Smut.

❥ Chapter Warnings: [8.5k words] Explicit Sexual Content 18+, smut scenes are short and not super detailed, oral (f) implied, unprotected sex (mxf) implied, language, medical things, lots of tooth rotting sweetness, that should cover it!

❥ Check out the Series Master List here! ~ banners made by @beaniegyu

❥ Summary: Your first love hit hard & fast but it was all swept away in the blink of an eye when your boyfriend is sent away to a Korean University after your high school graduation. Seven years later, work lands you in the heart of Seoul and never in your wildest dreams did you imagine running into the one person who’d left with your heart years ago.

The nurse politely clears her throat to get your attention and smiles at the two of you. “Your test results should be ready so I’ll grab the doctor and we’ll be right in with you, okay?”

You both nod politely though Wonwoo still hasn’t a clue what’s going on and she sees herself out, closing the door behind her with a soft click. “What’s going on, babe? Is there something wrong? I can call Cheol and-”

“Cheol,” you swallow unevenly, “Cheol referred me here. When I was in the hospital, my lab results had shown some elevations that indicate that I could-”

There is a knock on the door and your heart stops. 

Moment of truth.

Wonwoo could count all the times his heart had stopped beating on one hand. 

Once when you’d first kissed under the bleachers outside the school. Another when you told him you loved him for the first time. The day he ran into you outside the coffee shop. When you were laying in the hospital and he thought he lost you for good. 

And, finally, the moment the doctor explained why you where there. 

Each time he was met with a different feeling. The first time it was shock and awe that the two of you could be so bold; two kids who hardly knew one another but saw something within that no one else had bothered to notice. Twin flames who sparked recognition in each other’s eyes and comfort in vulnerable, shaking hands.

 When you confessed he was overwhelmed with joy. The skin of his cheeks pinched, stinging with how insistent his smile had been the moment your words hit home.

The universe bringing you back together left him with hope blossoming in his chest; like a hardy flower coiled tightly, protected within the cage of his heart against a long, cold winter had finally felt the sun upon it’s petals again and begin to open back up, ready to show the world all it’s glory once more.

Watching you lay broken and motionless in the hospital had devastated him. He’d run through every second of your lives together; every touch, every kiss, every petty argument and the love and laughter that had followed. He begged for your return, for you to open your eyes and tell him it’s all okay so you could have a million more little moments to remember together.

Finding out that you were here because there was a possibility your health was in jeopardy made his legs weak, his feet numb. 

Not now…not when you still had so much to look forward to. 

“...now if you look at your values here,” the doctor points to numbers on her computer screen, “...and you compare them with today’s values,” she shifts her finger over toward a different number, “...you’ll see that there is a significant difference in the two and that is exactly what we were hoping for. Seungcheol was absolutely validated in his concern because the numbers on his work-up’s are far out of range for a woman your age but those can be heavily influenced when you’re dealing with a trauma case.”

“So,” your voice is so quiet, merely more than a whisper of hope, “Does this mean I’m…okay?”

“A little more than just ‘OK’,” she grins as she makes a note in your record, “I’d like to repeat lab work in three months but I’m very happy with these results.”

You can feel Wonwoo’s posture slump at your side as you let out a long breath that feels like it’s been waiting to be released for weeks. He must be so angry with you for withholding something this important when you’d not long ago made him promise to never do the same to you again. It makes you feel too ashamed to meet his eyes. 

He doesn’t allow the silence to hold though and when he speaks, his deep voice is soothing. There isn’t an ounce of betrayal or anger or disappointment. 

He sounds relieved and you realize how dreadful the last hour or so must have been for him; getting an urgent call, being rushed to a medical facility, having no clue if you were okay or not. 

“I’m so sorry,” falls from his lips first, fingers curling around your cold hand. “All this time you’ve been dealing with this on your own - I didn’t know…why-,” his brows furrow in that familiar way they always do when he’s thinking before he focuses on your face again, “-why wouldn’t Cheol tell me that something might be wrong?”

Biting your lips, you squeeze his hand. “I asked him not to,” you admit with a guilty whisper, “I didn’t want you to worry anymore than you already were and it wasn’t even a sure thing to begin with…I should have just told you instead of all…this.”

Wonwoo kisses your knuckles, your hand cupped carefully between his. “As long as everything is okay,” he reassures you, “That’s all that matters.”

You wish for nothing more than to cage yourself in his arms and allow his simple presence to soothe the ache in your chest but there is a knock at the door and the doctor cracks it open and a nurse speaks quietly with her for a moment before disappearing. 

“Apologies for the interruption,” she turns and smiles kindly, “I’ll be just a moment if you don’t mind.”

“Of course,” you and Wonwoo both speak at the same time and you dip your head politely, “Take your time.”

Her nose scrunches in a personable sort of a fashion and she slips out the door with your chart in hand. The soft click of the door shutting releases another bout of tension in your shoulders. Wonwoo comes around to stand in front of you and he cups both cheeks, eyes darting over every inch of your face. 

“I know I’m being a bit of a hypocrite here but promise me,” he stresses the word, pleading with you to not argue, “Promise me you’ll lean on me for things like this.”

You pucker your lips and he sighs, leaning down to kiss you. “I promise.”

He finally smiles and it’s instantly contagious. He chuckles at the little wink you throw in. “For better or for worse…right?”

Your heartbeat stumbles in your chest. “We haven’t made those sort of vows yet.”

He purses his lips. “I think we should.”

Oh.

Another knock at the door shelves that conversation and the doctor pops back in just as Wonwoo’s phone buzzes for the umpteenth time and he quickly tugs it out with an apology. “Ah, I’m sorry,” he glances over the long list of messages and missed calls, “Big family…lots of worriers.”

You run a hand over his arm with a small smile, “I know you had to run out of the office. Why don’t you head back and we’ll catch up over dinner when you get home?”

He seems hesitant to leave and when he looks up the doctor just smiles.

“Honey, it’s okay,” you reassure him once again with a soft smile. “Mingyu can drive me home when I’m done. Let everyone know I’m fine, okay?”

Another moment of hesitance and then his phone buzzes, yet again, and he sighs. “I am so close to tossing this thing in the river,” he jokes, rolling his eyes in exasperation before turning to the doctor, “Thank you so much for everything and apologies again for my arrival…and my exit.”

She chuckles heartily, your chart clutched against her chest as she bows her head. “No need to apologize,” she says, and then nods in your direction, “It’s lovely to see all the love and support you have here.”

Wonwoo shoots you a wink on his way out and you can’t help thinking about that comment he made only a few minutes before. Talking about vows and such - as if your heart hadn’t been working in overtime already.

You’ll attempt to get something out of him soon but for now - you’ve got far too much on your plate to worry about nuptials anyhow.

Planning, packing, moving - it’s constant and time seems to move in hyper-speed as of late. The best you can do is hang on tight and take life as it comes at you.

It’s no surprise that the next two weeks pass by faster than the blink of an eye. 

You start each day by coaxing Wonwoo out of bed with bribery in the form of sweet kisses and then trying not to trip over Gureum as you’re walking around the house to prepare for the day, talking and purring as he weaves through your moving legs. There had been so much to do that it filled each and every hour of the day until you were nearly crashing into bed come nightfall.

As a result, time slipped by seemingly unannounced because you can hardly believe that you’re already bouncing anxiously in an airport terminal waiting for Sam and JJ’s flight to land. Wonwoo’s hand falls softly to your thigh to still your constant motion but you only stop for a moment before the bouncing picks up again.

“You’re going to bounce right off the bench,” he snickers quietly. 

Trying your best to relax, you stretch your limbs and settle deeper into the padded airport seating. “I just can’t believe she’s finally going to be here. It feels like a dream.”

Wonwoo smirks. “Your brother is coming too you know…”

You flop your hand dismissively. Of course you’re happy JJ is here but Sam is the other half of your whole. She’s also the one person in the world who can take your crazy busy life and break it down into sections, organize it, color code it, and declutter your mind. You had happily handed over the reigns for your big move when she’d offered. 

When the plane’s arrival is announced you jump up from your seat as if she’d just magically pop out of the boarding gate right away. Wonwoo’s hand is steady on the back of your thigh as he sits a bit longer, using your distraction to quickly check his messages, firing off a few quick responses before pocketing it and standing at your side. His hand automatically finds a home against your back and he smiles when you sink into his touch. 

He simply watches you for a few minutes, eyes glued to your side profile as your own search the first few passengers that begin to filter out. His heart aches with how full it feels just seeing you this happy and he hopes to capture many more moments like this in the coming days. 

“Can you see them?” you stand on your toes as the crowd of passengers and the loved ones receiving them begin to crowd the terminal. 

Wonwoo cranes his neck and catches a glimpse of your brother’s hair but before he has a chance to mention it you’re tearing away from him at record speed. He almost has a hard time following your trail but he can hear you. 

...And Sam still gives the best hugs. 

The kind that wrap you in warmth and affection even if you are struggling a bit for air and you feel your back and shoulder crack in two different places it doesn’t matter because your best friend is actually here. The two of you are quietly gossiping and giggling as Wonwoo and your brother share a very casual hug and look of amusement at the two of you practically melting together. 

Sam pulls back and cups your cheeks like an old grandma, squishing them together with an adoring pout. “Your face,” she coos, “It’s real and not inside my phone screen!”

“I know!” you reach up and pinch her cheek too, “Look at your face! You look amazing!”

“Shut up! No, look at you,” she steps back far enough to look you up and down, “You’re glowing! I told you this was the best decision you’ve ever made and it shows. Your cheeks are full, your hair is shining, skin so clear you should be in magazines - tell me, who was right? Let me hear it.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “You were right,” you look over at Wonwoo softly, “Best decision I’ve ever made.”

Sam catches the motion and winks at Wonwoo. “You’re welcome.”

“Oh my god! Wait,” you reach for her arm, ”Let me see it! Let me see it!”

Sam giggles and sticks out her left hand, wiggling her fingers to show off her gorgeous engagement ring. You fall into whispers about the ring and the proposal and wedding talk and then there is a loud, obvious, cough to your left.

“I am also here…in case you forgot.” You look over at your brother in surprise, as if you’re honestly just remembering he’s there. 

You grin and slink over to wrap your arms around him, swaying him side to side and chuckling over his feigned disinterest. “Not my fault you decided to fall in love and marry my best friend,” you sing before he wiggles out of your grip, “You will always be second place.”

At first, you’re too busy bickering and taunting your brother to notice Wonwoo and Sam speaking very, very quietly a few feet away but ever aware, Sam catches you approaching and wraps her arm around your own as if nothing happened.

“Why don’t you show us that fancy new house I get to decorate?”

She pulls you along toward baggage claim and you snort at her desire to jump right into the hard work. Well hard work in your opinion. It’s like Christmas to Sam. 

“You literally just landed and we’re moving in two days - don’t you want to just relax? Aren’t you supposed to be…engagement…honeymooning?”

Sam shakes her head. “Oh, no, I want to see what I’m working with in person so I can make alterations to the furniture Hannie and I ordered in case they’re not going to work.”

“Should have known you and Jeonghan would get along famously.”

“He’s a freaking gem,” she exclaims in a hushed voice, “Wonwoo better watch out before I steal his handler and take him back to the states in my carry on.”

Wonwoo’s voice rumbles from behind you where he’s walking and chatting with your brother. “Keep your mits off my man, Samantha.”

“Fine, fine,” she waves her hand over her shoulder, “Your girl is mine though…” she teases, tugging you closer, “Even when you put a ring on it.”

Wonwoo almost trips over his own foot but he manages to catch himself and not sweat through his clothes because yeah, he get’s sweaty when he’s nervous, ok? 

Thankfully, Sam and JJ will be keeping you occupied well enough for him to finish finalizing surprise party plans without you catching on. 

He survives the next forty-eight hours which he had thought might never end with the constant driving around, phone calls from work, texts from vendors and almost everyone else he knows pinging his phone at all hours, and the wretched quality of sleep he’s been getting. He’s exhausted but he reminds himself of the payoff and tries not to grumble too much when you try to wake him this morning.

Unfortunately, moving day begins with a headache in his temples and ice-cold monster in his hand despite your best efforts to gently rouse him. 

Thankfully, the weather isn’t too warm nor too cold, a light breeze pushing through the trees around your new home to cool the sweat from hauling boxes and furniture inside. He could easily afford to have the entire process handled by the moving company but you and Sam both insisted it was better to be a part of the process and so, here he is. 

Part of the process.

He’s a little envious of Gureum who’s cooped up in your former, and Chan’s current, apartment - lazing about, waiting for the hard work to be completed.

Thankfully, the movers cared for the brunt of the work with Mingyu sneaking in alongside them to help, as if they weren’t a professional moving company, but of course Mingyu makes friends everywhere he goes and they don’t seem to mind the extra muscle. You’re sure he’s invited them all to his restaurant for a meal. 

Jeonghan and Sam are a formidable team, as expected, and make sure everything gets put in the right place - even if that means they need to be moved around a time or two until it’s perfect. They’re almost a bit scary when they’re in the zone of organizing and directing so you mostly stay out of the way, especially when they make Mingyu and Wonwoo shift the dining room furniture twice after the movers left. 

Chan lucked out for the simple fact that you banned him from carrying anything and your brother lucked out when Sam sent the two of them on some errands. They disappeared pretty quickly after that and hadn’t returned since. You were sure they were taking their sweet time and would probably blame their pace on Chan’s foot.

Wonwoo slinks away the moment the design team seems satisfied with the table placement and start talking about linens, Sam’s favorite, and he looks through the still unfamiliar halls, searching for your comfort. You’re not in the bedroom, nor the office, so he wanders back out into the living area and your soft laughter floats out from the kitchen. 

He stops when he sees you and leans in the doorway, choosing to observe for a moment without interrupting. You’ve got Yeojin on the kitchen counter, one arm wrapped around her little legs as you stand behind her and let her help put the dishes away in the cabinet. She can only hold one thing at a time with her small hands but you’re so incredibly patient, smiling as you watch her concentrate on aligning the glasses to perfection.

When Mingyu asked if it would be okay to bring Yeojin he’d hardly squeezed the question out before you told him to stop asking and to just start bringing her along. You loved having the little girl around and Wonwoo…he was quite fond as well. Especially when he watches you together.

He waits a few more minutes before intruding. 

“You girls look awfully busy,” Wonwoo murmurs gently, a wry smile on his face when you turn to him in surprise. 

Yeojin grins delightedly as Wonwoo walks over, wrapping an arm around you from behind and stretching one finger out to poke the little girl’s side, eliciting a trilling giggle. “Auntie Daisy said I could help.”

A little puff of amusement escapes from your nose at the nickname. 

“You’re doing a wonderful job,” Wonwoo compliments her, passing another plate into her tiny hands. He makes sure she’s got a good grip on it before he let’s go and you both watch her very carefully place it upon the stack she’s already created. 

When she’s done, he hands her another.

It’s almost like a borrowed moment in time and he wishes for more and more of them as the days go by. He wishes for a little girl with round cheeks and too-mature vocabulary that he didn’t have to say goodbye to at the end of the day. One with your eyes and his smile. It didn’t even have to be a girl. It could be -

Wonwoo’s thoughts are swiftly interrupted by a saccharine voice that haunts him day and night. Jeonghan smirks, peering over Wonwoo’s shoulder. “What a pretty picture,” he whispers just loud enough for you both to hear before turning his attention upwards, “Jinnie! What a beautiful job you’ve done! I’ve never seen such nicely organized cabinets.”

Yeojin beams down at him and doesn’t hesitate to leap into Jeonghan’s outstretched arms, though the dare devil action makes the breath catch in both yours and Wonwoo’s throat. Jeonghan ignores your disapproving glares and bounces with glee. “Let’s leave the rest of this to the adults, hm? I have a much more important task for you.”

Yeojin’s eyes widen and the frowns melt right off your faces at the sight of her excitement. “I want to help!” 

Jeonghan makes a goofy face like he’s silently cheering and lifts her little arm. “To the back yard!” he shouts and then takes off with Yeojin bouncing and giggling all the way.

You laugh quietly, the sound echoing in the grand, empty room. You drop your head against Wonwoo’s shoulder and his hands slide across your stomach, his thumb rubbing right above your navel. He kisses the side of your face and you smile, humming contentedly. 

“Happy?”

His question is simple. It holds no teasing nor flirtation. He’s genuinely curious. 

He allows you the space to turn in his arms until you're able to face him and bring your arms around his shoulders. He presses you into the counter and looks into your eyes. 

“Happy,” you respond, your breath tickling his lips. “I’m...elated, grateful, exhausted,” you share a laugh, the sound intermingling, “I love our home…and our family,” he understands whom you’re referring to and you kiss him softly before meeting his eyes again, “I love you and honestly…” you glance around the room, “I love this fucking kitchen.”

Wonwoo laughs but he easily receives you when you lean into him and capture his lips. He wastes no time in licking along the seam of yours and bringing his hand up to cup the side of your neck, his thumb tipping your jaw upwards. The granite counter digs into your back, even as Wonwoo tries to lessen the pressure by securing his arm around you. 

“If we were alone,” he says against your lips, “I’d give you reasons to love it even more.”

You giggle in delight - making out with Wonwoo in your new home, all sorts of wicked promises being whispered in your ear, between your lips, and against your throat is something you’d dreamed about once or twice.   

Mingyu walks in only a minute later and stumbles backwards at the sight of you tangled up in one another. “Oh shit! My bad!” he spins around to leave but then turns back, “Wait…where’s Jinnie?”

You cover your mouth, embarrassed at having been caught. “Sorry,” you laugh, “We’re done. Promise.”

“Says you,” Wonwoo mumbles before smirking at his friend. “I don’t give a shit if he stays.”

Mingyu tuts in disapproval. “I’m a chef - fucking in the kitchen is against the rules.”

Wonwoo narrows his eyes with a retort, “You’re full of shi-”

You transfer your hand to his mouth and stop him. “Yeojin was kidnapped by Jeonghan for who knows what,” you redirect back to Mingyu’s original question, smiling at the way his hair is sticking up, slick with sweat. “Damn. Sam’s putting you guys to work, huh?”

Wonwoo snorts, dropping his hand to rest on your hip. Slightly more appropriate than before.

“She’s bossier than Seungkwan and Jeonghan put together,” Mingyu rests against the arched entry and then nearly shrieks when Samantha ducks under his arm, swatting him right in the stomach.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” she scoffs, swiftly moving past him into the open kitchen, “The view from here is amazing,” she leans against the double sink and peers out the windows and into the backyard where Jeonghan is animatedly waving his hands around in front of Yeojin. “You can watch the kids from here - kind of like your mom did when we were growing up.”

“Remember your eighth birthday,” she reminisces to the pretty glass window, “We spied through the kitchen windows and waited until your mom left to run in and steal a piece of ca-”

Your sniffle makes Sam slowly spin toward you. Wonwoo glances at you curiously, Mingyu straightens in the doorway because…you’re…crying?

“What’s wrong?”

Wonwoo hugs you a little closer and you look at the three of them in confusion before realizing your face is wet. You hastily wipe your cheeks, laughing it off. 

“Don’t mind me,” you chuckle wistfully, “I just…get a little homesick sometimes. I love my life here, obviously, I just miss our big family. I miss you guys and being able to hang out whenever we want. It’s hard being so far away.”

“Oh, honey,” Sam pouts, walking toward you with open arms. 

You tuck your chin over her shoulder and hug her back as she swings you side to side. It’s true - you’ve been missing your family a lot lately. Growing up you we’re used to being surrounded by your siblings and watching your parents work together to try and make sure everyone was fed, bathed, clothed, loved. There were times you felt lost in such a busy household but you miss it - especially when you’re with your Seoul family.

And maybe a tiny part of you pictured kids playing in the backyard while you made their birthday cake. You mentally note to video chat with your mom, again. You’d be on with her every few nights before Sam and JJ arrived and you were already missing her.

The sweet moment is interrupted when Mingyu joins your hug, squeezing the two of you in his long, bulky, and disturbingly sweaty arms. You and Sam whine in protest and he squeezes harder. “The atmosphere went from horny, to sad, to sentimental so fast in here but man I love you guys!”

“Mingyu!” you grunt, “My face is in your armpit!”

“Did you say horny?!” Sam gags at the feeling of his sticky skin. “Oh my god! Gross! Let go!”

Mingyu doesn’t elaborate. He grins and reaches for Wonwoo but Sam uses the opportunity to slip free which gives Wonwoo the chance to reach back toward Mingyu and pinche his nipple until he let’s you go. You’re snickering at the way Mingyu screeches and he’s about to say something largely inappropriate but a tiny giggle in the doorway makes him stop in his tracks. 

Jeonghan, Seungkwan, and Yeojin look up at him from the entry, the adults waiting with a raised brow for him to continue whilst the littlest one in the middle anticipates an opportunity to collect more coins for her swear jar. Mingyu settles back against the counter and grumbles instead, rubbing his chest with a glare in Wonwoo’s direction. 

If Yeojin could read lips, he’d still owe her. 

Miraculously, JJ and Chan make it back just in time to dig into the to-go bags Seungkwan had come to deliver before running back to the restaurant. Sam shooed the two of them away until the people who had actually done the hard work made their plates - which meant Yeojin was served first - before they were allowed to join in.

A bit worn down, you sit back in your chair at the dining table, quietly smiling to yourself when Wonwoo takes your hand, pulling it to his lips. Meeting his gaze, he winks and you mouth back ‘I love you’. Everyone else notices but they don’t say a word, content to let the two of you share the moment in peace.

“So, Miss Daisy,” Jeonghan grins from across the table, “Your birthday is next weekend. Any big plans?”

Your lips close around your spoon the same time your eyes pop open in surprise. You hadn’t actually thought about it. Everything had been such a whirlwind of change lately that you forgot your own birthday.

Sam reads you so quickly. “You forgot, didn’t you?”

“Honestly, it’s been so busy that I don’t know if I’m coming or going anymore.”

Yeojin quirks her head to the side. “Why don’t you know where you’re going?”

The adults giggle and Mingyu pats her hand explaining it’s just an expression. She still seems a little concerned but continues eating and Wonwoo wipes his mouth. “I actually booked appointments for you and Sam at the spa on your birthday and I thought we could have dinner at the house together that night.”

You’re glad he didn’t suggest going out for dinner, drinks, and karaoke. Going to the spa with your best friend and having a quiet dinner with your friends is exactly the way you’d like to spend your day. You smile at him. “You read my mind, baby.”

Yeojin makes another face. “He’s a grown up,” she points out, “Auntie, did you bump your head?”

JJ snorts loudly which causes Chan to cackle, then Jeonghan nearly chokes on his mouthful, and sweet Yeojin just sits there not understanding why all the grown ups laugh until they’re falling over like she said a really funny joke and their belly hurts from laughing so hard.

Yeojin just smiles to herself. Adults are so silly sometimes.

Your birthday starts off with a bang, literally, because when you wake up with Wonwoo’s head between your thighs, dragging an orgasm from your body before you’ve even opened your eyes, there is nothing stopping you from putting your lover on his back and riding him until the sun sits high in the morning sky. 

It’s a memory you both carry throughout the morning - even as you sit across the table from each other in a fancy breakfast spot. Being in public is probably a good thing because had you been alone at home he would have had you right on the kitchen counter as promised but as it stands, you have guests and he also needs to keep you out of the house for a few hours. So, he sits patiently, settling for sending you heated gazes over your breakfast plates and taking long, calming sips of his hot coffee. 

When he delivers you to the front doors of the day spa, Sam is already waiting for you so you can’t exactly tell Wonwoo to take you home instead. Once everyone is back home and you have another quiet weekend to yourselves you’ll talk him into staying in bed with you all day. For now, you kiss him goodbye - one, two, or three times too many until he’s grinning and gently pushing you into Sam’s awaiting grasp. 

He’ll get his hands on you later. For now - there is a ton of work to do.

Speaking of hands on you…

By the time you’re leaving the spa you feel like a buttered up cup of jello, for lack of better words. After facials, massages, manicures, pedicures, the works, your limbs are loose, your back and shoulders are tender but knot free, and your skin is smooth and moisturized. You expect to go right home but instead Hansol shows up to chauffeur you to another location. 

Sam’s gift apparently. 

Hansol drops you off at a nearby salon where you both spend another hour or so getting your hair and makeup done which is as wonderful as it is suspicious because why all the extra effort for a small dinner in the comfort of your own home? Sam evades all your poking questions and tells you to sit back and relax - enjoy your day.

Instead of Hansol, this time it’s Jeonghan who picks you up. His sporty silver BMW greeting you right at the front door where he rolls down the window and lowers his sunglasses, “Hop in ladies, we’ve got an appointment to make by four-thirty.”

You look at the time on your cell phone. “Han, that’s in fifteen minutes.”

“And it’s twenty minutes away,” he revs his engine and smirks, “So, get your gorgeous behinds in the car so we’re not late.”

Jeonghan’s gift, other than his pretty face, was shopping but not your average trip to the mall. Oh, no. In Jeonghan’s world apparently you’re greeted at the front door by name and there’s a private fitting room with a rack of clothing personally hand-picked and waiting for your approval. 

He hadn’t stuck around to find out what you chose - not that it mattered since he’d already arranged to have everything sent to the house after your fitting anyway. Jeonghan was confident that every piece he selected was something you’d choose for yourself. You know, if you didn’t have a budget to take into account. 

Jeonghan is not bound by such limitations. 

The clothing he chose was gorgeous and again…suspiciously too fancy for this small gathering that supposed to take place this evening but perhaps Wonwoo changed his mind about dinner at the house and made reservations somewhere else.

Sam doesn’t seem to know the answer to that when she shrugs and points to an outfit she’d already pre-approved for herself hanging over another dressing room door. She claims to have been given minimal information which again, triggers a little alarm in the back of your head. 

Sam isn’t a ‘minimal information’ kind of girl. 

However, when you squint at her, she squints back which is an indication that even if she knows, she’s not telling. 

You’re four dresses in when your next chauffeur arrives. 

Like something straight out of a k-drama, Mingyu walks into the store and is immediately flocked by woman offering their assistance, their phone numbers, their dignity. 

He shoots them all a million dollar smile and assures them he’s all taken care of before making a beeline for you at the back of the store. Those long, model-esque legs carrying him easily through the crowd of employees and gawking women who’ve abandoned their purchases to catch a glimpse. 

He’s in crisp, fitted grey slacks and an equally tight pressed button down - half the buttons hanging open - and he sends you a wolfish grin that makes you wonder how on earth the idiot is still single. He’s goofball but a very handsome one. “Ladies.”

Sam chuckles at the stupid spin he does to show off his outfit. “Oh, he cleans up! I thought you were just a sweaty meathead who likes to cook. Must say I’m impressed.”

“I am a sweaty meathead who likes to cook but I also know how to follow dress code.”

You snort at their exchange. “And pray-tell,” you peer back at your side profile - still unsure which outfit to choose, “What exactly is the dress code?”

Mingyu gestures to his clothes again like that’s all you need to know.

“Sexy,” he actually explains aloud, “Obviously.” 

He tilts his head in consideration when you show him the dress you currently have on. It’s pretty but you’re not sold on the color, especially when you behold Mingyu and again consider the dress Sam has set aside - it doesn’t seem to be a match. He’s quirking a brow at you in question. “Help yourself,” you chuckle.

If he wants to play dress up, you’re more than willing to let him. 

When his hand lands on the hanger of the champagne colored silk dress, Sam lights up and you realize that even if she had told you a hundred times over the choice was yours, she’d definitely had a favorite in mind. She takes the hanger from Mingyu and runs her fingers along the fabric with a smile. “You’re going to look fricking amazing in this dress,” she grins as she hands it over to you, “Wonwoo isn’t going to know what to do with himself when he sees you.”

You snort, closing the door to change outfits. “Why exactly are we dressing so nicely again?”

Mingyu plops down in a chair, crossing one leg over his knee. “It’s a special occasion,” he answers, seemingly distracted, probably on his phone you think.

“It’s just my birthday.” Even as you say it, the silk glides over your skin and you glance in the mirror, gawking at your own reflection. You feel every bit as stunning as you look. 

“Maybe we just want to celebrate all the wonderful things that have happened since your last birthday,” Sam hollers back from her own dressing room, “Maybe you should just get dressed and hush, birthday girl!”

Mingyu huffs out a laugh at the quiet grumbling coming from behind your door and then you emerge and he blinks one too many times. “Damn,” he coughs, “That looks even better than I thought.”

You roll your eyes though you’re beaming inside because you look and feel really good. 

Sam comes out a moment later and she whistles at you, as if she doesn’t look like a whole smoke show herself. “Um, this dress was made for you,” she circles you, adjusting material at the top with her prettily manicured fingers. “You fill this out like a Greek goddess.”

“Please,” you groan, “Are you saying i’m ancient?”

Mingyu kisses his teeth and offers a half-smirk. “She’s saying you belong in a gallery.”

“I’m saying what ever you’re doing - keep doing it. You look incredible.”

You don’t have a response for that but it’s not necessary because Mingyu is standing and extending an arm out to each of you. “As much as I’d love to sit here and admire the view a bit longer, we’re expected at our final location soon.”

“And that location is?” you attempt, hands around his arm as you bat your lashes up at him.

He winks right back and Sam snorts. “Nice try.”

After all the secrets and surprises and one noticeable loop around the block, you’re confused when you pull up in front of your home, as planned. It’s quiet and nothing is out of the ordinary when you walk up to the front door with Mingyu and Sam a step behind and nothing jumps out when you push through the door and into the entry hall. 

You spin halfway to ask what’s going on when a tiny familiar voice comes hauling through the house toward you. You turn around just in time to catch Yeojin as she throws herself into your arms to give you a hug. “Happy birthday Auntie!”

You squeeze her tight and pull back to look at her. “Oh, Jinnie! You’re dress is so pretty!”

“Thank you,” she smiles bashfully, “Mommy bought it for me!”

Mingyu clears his throat. “Don’t you have something to show Auntie Daisy?”

Boy does she. 

Her little eyes light up with anticipation and she grabs your hand, pulling you through your quiet house until a light flicks on in your living room and it erupts with noise and excitement. Yeojin drops your hand and runs to her parents who are there along with all your other friends; Hoshi, Jun, Seungkwan, Hansol, Jeonghan, Seungcheol, Yeri. 

Your parents. Your siblings. Your nieces and nephews. 

Your mom pushes toward you the second you lock eyes and your arms come around her so quickly and so tightly a choked laugh spills from your lips. Your dad wraps his arms around both of you and it goes on like this for several minutes - hugging and laughing and crying because your family is here and you’ve missed them so much your chest feels like it could burst any moment. 

Wonwoo sits back and watches you - patient as ever as you greet your family and friends. The light in your eyes is dazzling and watching you whirl around the room in disbelief is something he’s been dreaming about ever since he’d began planning for this. All the time and effort that went into getting everyone together like this was worth it just to see that look in your eyes. 

You can hardly believe what you’re experiencing in the moment - that your family is actually here and you’re able to hug them and hold them. Your older and younger sisters take turns fawning over you. You’re able to pinch your big brother’s cheek and wrap your arms around his children. What it must have taken to get everyone here together for this moment…

You look around the room and find Wonwoo hanging back with Chan. His eyes are already on you as if he’s been waiting for you to greet everyone else before interrupting but the moment he smiles at you, you’re moving across the room. 

“Happy birthday,” he grins, hands pulling from his pockets slowly. 

You don’t wait for him to reach out to you before your grabbing his face and kissing him. 

The attention garnered doesn’t derail him from kissing you back, nor does it keep him from dipping you backwards to make a show of it. He grins against your lips at the whooping and hollering. “I can’t believe you did all this for me.”

Wonwoo’s hand glides over the silk material at your back. “You’ve given me everything,” he says quietly, “This is the least I could do. Also had some help.”

He smirks and you meet Sam, Mingyu, and Jeonghan’s eyes. 

It feels so incredibly warm and frankly overwhelming to be so…loved. 

All throughout the night, you bounce from family to friend happily catching up, laughing, talking, eating. Even more so, you love watching your two worlds come together. 

Mingyu spends most his time proudly explaining his dishes to your father and brother. Yeri, Sam, Jeonghan and his handsome friend Joshua all connect over the home decor and some design theory you’re all too happy to let them dish about without you. Seungkwan argues with Soonyoung about something that happened in their youth while Jun and Hansol happily monitor just in case the conversation gets too heated. 

Little groups intermingle and get to know each other - even through language barriers - and all the children play together, their giggles echoing through the halls.

In the midst of conversation with your mother and Mingyu’s sister about the school, the distinct sound of silverware clinking against glass quiets everyone and turns the attention to Samantha near the kitchen. 

“Thank you so much for being here tonight to celebrate with us,” she smiles and you can hear whispered translations as she pauses and looks toward you and Wonwoo, “And special thank you to the man who brought us all together. Wonwoo, I think the floor is yours, if you’re ready.”

Everyone is clapping and cheering and you’re not sure why it sounds like they’re gearing for a big emotional speech when your man is one of very few words but Wonwoo turns toward you with an incredibly soft smile. 

“You know I’m not particularly great at this sort of thing,” he chuckles nervously.

Chan raises his glass. “We believe in you, brother!”

Another round of whooping shakes the edge off Wonwoo’s nerves and he laughs it off. 

“Thank you for that,” he huffs out bemusedly before focusing on you again. “Obviously, I wanted to bring everyone together for your birthday, but I was also hoping to use this opportunity…” he reaches into his pocket and procures a black velvet box, “...to ask you something.”

Tears immediately well in your eyes and you meet Sam’s gaze over his shoulder. She’s smiling back at you, tears streaming down her cheeks, clinging to your brother.

Wonwoo opens the box to reveal a stunning ring, it’s heavy oval shaped stone shining up at you. His hands tremble and he takes a deep breath only finding the courage he needed when you meet his eyes - all the love in the universe staring back at him and he moves his lips, praying the words will come out. 

“I’ve practiced this so many times I was sure I could get through it without messing up but proposing to Mingyu in the gym, or Jeonghan in the office, or Hoshi in the lair is way different than proposing to you right now,” he says and there are watery laughs, “You’re so much prettier.”

Another laugh escapes you, tears rolling down your cheeks. “What the hell is the lair?”

Wonwoo huffs out a short laugh. Of course you’d snag on that detail. “I’ll explain later.”

“Anyways - whatever I practiced is useless because I’m still that socially inept kid who fell in love with you in high school and I can’t form a single coherent thought when you look at me like that.”

Your lip quivers. “Like what?”

“Like I’m really worth something,” he answers softly and then he lowers himself down to one knee and looks up at you with such reverent affection and you brace yourself as he says your name. “I love you in ways I’ll never be able to fully express in words but I’ll spend every day for the rest of our lives showing you, if you’ll let me.”

Your heart swells and your legs feel weak and then he says it. 

“Will you marry me?”

You’re not sure if he fully finishes the question before you answer and then he’s on his feet, holding you and kissing you as everyone celebrates. The rush of emotion when he slips that ring onto your finger hits you square in the chest and you fall against him, face buried in the crook of his neck with your arms wound tightly around his neck. 

Your lover, your person, your soulmate, your future husband. 

The reality of all the hardships you’ve faced to come together again fall from your shoulders. The crushing weight of years lost just evaporate because you’re here now and that’s all that matters. His hand rubs up and down your back, his lips pressing into your hair over and over again as the people who love and care for you both share congratulatory hugs and heartfelt sentiments. 

You only part from your fiance when you hear your mother’s voice. She kisses Wonwoo’s cheek and you bring her into another crushing hug - incredibly grateful to have your family here more now than ever and suddenly, the thought strikes you that this sort of opportunity is going to be few and far in between.

You meet Mingyu’s eyes from across the room and his widen - making sure you’re absolutely certain of what you’re asking from him. Nodding, he slinks off just as you clear your throat, catching everyone’s attention. 

“Please pretend my makeup isn’t ruined,” you chuckle wiping under your eyes, “I really can’t believe any of this is happening but I am so happy you all are here and Wonwoo,” you hold your hand out to him and he takes it, squeezing your fingers, “I…I can’t even begin to say how grateful I am to have you and to share a life together with someone so kind and genuine…gentle and patient.”

You choke on the last few words, and Mingyu reappears at your side with two boxes. 

Taking one into your hands, Wonwoo looks at you curiously - as does everyone else aside from the one person you trusted to keep your secret until you were ready.

You supposed now was as good a time as any.

“I know it’s my birthday,” you smile, gesturing for Wonwoo to take the gift into his hands, “But I have a present for you too.”

Wonwoo cocks his head in confusion but you just smile, urging him to lift the lid.

Everyone watches as he gives you another curious grin but he lifts the lid and peers inside before letting it fall closed, his eyes darting up to your own. “You’re serious?”

“What is it?”

“What’s in the box?”

Everyone is murmuring questions in anticipation and Wonwoo peels back the lid completely, pulling a tiny gray singlet from it’s tissue paper nest. He holds it in his hands, marveling at how tiny and precious and - 

“YOU’RE PREGNANT?!”

Sam’s voice cuts clear across the room and Wonwoo pinches the shoulders of the onesie, showing it to everyone in the room. Sam practically weeps in JJ’s arms and your sisters nearly get bowled over by your mother. 

“I should have known when you wouldn’t touch that mimosa this morning!” Sam shouts, pointing her finger at you in accusation.

Your laughter is met with Mingyu’s reminder of the second box and you quickly grab it, offering it to Wonwoo who is still so struck with the first gift he can’t imagine what else you could possibly give him. He’s got everything he could ever need. 

“What is this?”

You beam at him, hands shaking. “It’s sort of a package deal…”

He falters, eyes growing wide. “You’re joking…”

“Is that a second box?!

“Open the box before we do!” 

“Yeah!”

Soonyoung and Jun are practically hanging off each other waiting for the reveal. 

Wonwoo removes the lid and dips his hand inside. When he pulls out a yellow singlet - identical size and pattern with the first - the excitement is near deafening and you drop the box as Wonwoo wraps his arms around you. 

“Twins?” he breathes in astonishment, “That’s what this means right?”

You nod fervently, so relieved to be able to share your secret with him at last. “I wanted to tell you as soon as I found out but we had so much going on and I wanted it to be special but with everyone here…I just wanted to share one more thing to be thankful for...well two things I suppose.”

Wonwoo runs his thumb over your cheek and kisses you again, soft and slow. 

The sound of overwhelming love and joy filling the room around you, and he lifts you off your feet but you already feel weightless, like you’re floating and Wonwoo is the rock that tethers you securely to the earth. 

Years and years down the road, when you’re looking back at the photos from this very night, the ones from your wedding, the birth of your twins, and so on, you’ll always remember the way you felt in the moment because with Wonwoo that feeling never wavers. The love, support, acceptance, gratitude - he makes sure you feel it every single day, just as he promised. 

Perhaps the universe was cruel - separating you when you were young and so in love but as time goes on, you learn to have a little faith in that old saying about things happening for a reason and making the heart grow fonder. 

When you take a look around at all the people you’ve grown to love and cherish along the way, you can’t find it in yourself to wish for your life to have gone any other way. 

Not when you sit back and watch your children play with Sam’s in the backyard. Or when Soonyoung and Seungkwan bicker over the logistics and rules of a card game while, as usual, Jun and Hansol tune them out to talk about something too deep to jump into mid-conversation. 

Not when you watch Mingyu’s wife shoo him away from the grill as Yeojin, tall and beautiful, teases her uncle for pouting and getting bossed around. Or Chan, who stops long enough to settle down - marrying his physical therapist after three years of travel and whirlwind romance. Certainly not when you get to watch Jeonghan finally give up and ask Joshua out - even if he still adamantly denies having a long standing crush.. 

You absolutely regret nothing when you watch your husband crawl out from beneath a happy, laughing dog-pile of children just to limp back over and offer you a tired smile and a kiss…

You know without a doubt had you the chance to do it all over again, you’d follow your heart to Seoul every single time. 

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[phoenixfiiire]

The figure of Sephiroth before him lunged, sword aimed to pierce at the Phoenix's heart, and seconds before the steel could impale his chest the man--

Burst into flames.

He howled as his skin bubbled and crackled. Viscera oozed down his cheeks before being charred black and disappearing behind another curtain of flames that swallowed him whole. Even his shrieks of pain were dwarfed by the howls of the fire.

And just as quickly as it had blossomed, the flames vanished. The only remnant left behind was a pile of ash and a scorch mark on the ground.

Joshua stared at it for a long moment, his chest heaving from exhaustion. As the world around him flickered, the strange liminal space of the battlefield replaced by the stark white walls of the ShinRa labs, he felt his legs start to shake before his knees gave out. There should have been paid when he went crashing to the floor and his knees connected heavily with solid ground, but he felt nothing.

For a moment, at least.

The urge to vomit hit him before the wave of nausea did. It came on fast, strong, and Joshua clapped a hand over his mouth in a vain attempt to try to stop himself - which only resulting in his stomach's contents spewing out from between his fingers, splattering the front of his shirt and pants as well as the ground. His chest heaved again as his lungs spasmed, and he was forced onto all fours as more bile was ejected from his stomach.

It was tinged red and black and was far too thick for just bile. There were also chunks that Joshua was certain had to be flesh, more than likely his own that had necrotized from the materia.

Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes as his stomach convulsed again, and again, and again. The horrible mixture of bloody vomit leaked from his nose, and part of him was certain that was even what his tears were made out of him.

It felt like ages before his body finally quieted down, left without any strength to continue expelling the rotting pieces that had grown inside. It was in that quiet that another sound finally registered; slow, steady clapping.

He tilted his head up to see Hojo standing several feet away from him, applauding the performance. "Congratulations. You managed to defeat the Sephiroth programming."

Something that might have almost been pride? curled up inside of him.

"A program that had been recorded almost three months ago now, and that he had long since surpassed."

"... Ah."

If he had energy, Joshua would have felt ashamed and sick to his stomach - though the latter was already well taken care of. All of that effort. All of that suffering. And for something pointless. Useless.

There was a soft tut from Hojo, a noise that was clearly mocking, only Joshua couldn't hear it for what it truly was. "Cheer up. There's still Genesis and Angeal. They could maybe make use of this. Or some of the other SOLDIERS. Oh, I'm sure we'll find this useful for another... week or so?"

A week. That was all the time his suffering had earned him. Maybe longer, but Joshua knew better than to hope for that. But still, a week-- a week without having to suffer under the experimental surgeries from Hojo, without having to force his body to fight even when he could feel himself beginning to break down.

A towel was dropped on the floor a few paces from Joshua. "Clean this up. You can shower after." Nothing else was said before Hojo left, leaving Joshua to reach out to snag the cloth with shaky hands. There was a bucket, a sink and hose, and a drainage hole on the other side of the room, which meant he had to force himself to stand on shaky legs and walk over, filling the bucket up, carry it back, try to wipe up as much of his own gore as it could-

-try not to vomit again so he didn't have more to clean up-

The process took him close to an hour. His own clothing, a simple red shirt and black pants, were tossed into one of the hazardous material recycling bins in his room. No doubt they would just be incinerated before a new pair was given to him. It didn't matter much; he had plenty of identical pairs.

At least the hot water never runs out. It was the only thing he could really think of as Joshua crawled - almost literally - into the small shower in his room. It wasn't really meant for people to do anything other than stand in it, but he curled his legs up to his chest to allow him to sit as he let the hot water just pelt him, washing away the dirt and vomit and blood. More than likely he'd fall asleep here.

A week. Maybe he could plant more flowers. Or go into Midgar. A whole week. Practically a lifetime, really...

[cthonios]

i   want   to   grow   the   apple   ,   keep   all   the   seeds   /   but   i   can't   help   but   get   so   angry   ━━   i   want   to   know   where   you   go   when   you're   feeling   alone   ? nasrin   selwyn   (   née   ghazdari   )   .   a   study   on   the   sacrifices   of   loyalty    ,   loneliness   ,   the   rot   from   all   the   other   apples   that   came   before   you   ,   performing   your   duty   far   beyond   what's   expected   .

⧼     golshifteh   farahani,   cis   woman,   she/her     /     girl   singing   in   the   wreckage   by   black   box   recorder   + your   wedding   band   searing   through   the   skin   of   your   ring   finger.     /     you   are   the   girl   singing   in   the   wreckage ━━   your   primary   instinct   is   to   protect   the   child   ;   you   curl   into   yourself   ,   dig   your   nails   into   your   palms   until   they   memorize   the   sting   ,   bite   down   on   the   insides   of   your   cheeks.     /       you   had   a   dream   that   it   would   always   end   like   this    :    face   sore   from   smiling   ,   tear-stained   pillows   ,   separate   bedrooms.     ⧽     ━━     hey,   isn’t   that NASRIN   SELWYN   (NÉE   GHAZDARI)?   i   read   a   daily   prophet   article   on   them,   once   ;   the FORTY year   old   pure   blood WITCH is   a    BEAUXBATONS alumnus   who   has   gone   on   to   be   a PHILANTHROPIST,   FOUNDER   OF   THE   MAD (MOTHERS   AGAINST   DRAGONPOX) FOUNDATION.   i’ve   heard   they   can   be   quite LOYAL & ADAPTABLE,   but   i   don’t   know…   they   came   off   very PHLEGMATIC & COMPLACENT in   that   interview.   it   really   is   hard   to   know   what   to   believe   these   days   though,   isn’t   it?     

going  2  try  and  keep  this  as  coherent  as  possible  but  hi  i'm  kore  !!  happy  to  be  here  ,  can't  wait  to  inflict  nasrin  onto  all  of  you  (  she's  a  sweetheart  this  is  not  a  bad  thing  )  ,  but  first  ,  a  quick  lil  introduction

this  is  the  ugly  truth  :  nasrin  has  always  been  defined  by  those  she  was  in  close  proximity  to  ━━  the  ambassador's  daughter  ,  the  girl  who  chased  a  boy  over  two   the  selwyns'  new  daughter  -  in  -  law  ,  the  death  eater's  wife  ,  the  shamed  mother  .  she  had  never  truly  been  just  herself  .

her  childhood  was  simple  enough  .  her  mother  had  died  early  ,  and  her  father  had  been  sent  as  the  iranian  ministry  of  magic's  diplomatic  envoy  to  france  .  nasrin  had  followed  ,  of  course  ,  not  just  because  she  had  been  all  but  ten  years  old  .

her  father  had  found  another  wife  ,  a  mother  for  a  girl  who  grew  up  with  one  .  this  is  not  to  say  that  they  were  close  .  they  had  an  understanding  ,  at  most  ,  and  nasrin  herself  was  sent  to  beauxbatons  quickly  afterwards  .

she  meets  the  selwyn  boy  at  twenty  ,  while  she  was  working  as  her  father's  secretary  .  it  is  a  fleeting  romance  ,  blossomed  quickly  ,  quicker  than  nasrin  could  imagine  ,  it  does  not  give  her  time  to  sit  down  ,  to  truly  think  it  through  .

the  selwyn  boy  proposes  in  france  ,  and  they  marry  in  secret  in  spain  ,  sending  a  letter  to  her  father  as  an  announcement  and  an  apology  ,  then  follows  her  new  husband  right  up  to  england  .  the  selwyns  were  rich  ,  extremely  so  ,  with  a  large  manor  that  was  more  haunted  than  populated  .  as  the  lady  of  the  house  (  ignoring  her  own  mother  -  in  -  law  ,  of  course  )  ,  nasrin  had  tried  to  add  warmth  to  its  cold  halls  ,  but  selwyn  manor  was  determined  to  keep  itself  unwelcoming  .

it  was  the  rush  that  had  made  it  all  too  beautiful  ;  it  is  ,  perhaps  ,  the  only  decision  that  nasrin  makes  without  second  -  guessing  ,  and  thus  the  only  decision  she  regrets  .

she  has  children  ,  four  in  almost  quick  succession  ,  all  of  of  them  sent  to  beauxbatons  the  moment  they  were  allowed  to  ━━  the  manor  grows  colder  and  colder  each  time  they  leave  .

it  starts  after  that  one  fateful  night  ,  after  the  quidditch  world  cup  ,  when  a  mark  she  was  unfamiliar  with  lights  up  the  sky  .  her  husband  becomes  more  secretive  ,  and  she  had  feared  an  affair  ,  though  nowadays  nasrin  wishes  that  it  was  that  rather  than  her  husbands  actual  whereabouts  .

the  weeks  turn  into  years  and  the  truth  of  where  her  husband's  loyalties  truly  lie  are  becoming  more  and  more  evident  to  her  .  he  does  not  flaunt  it  ,  nor  does  he  hide  it  ,  but  she  sees  the  same  mark  on  his  skin  as  she  saw  in  the  sky  .

the  war  comes  and  passes  ,  and  her  husband  is  suspected  amongst  many  of  his  friends  ,  though  for  some  reason  (  and  nasrin  does  not  know  whether  this  is  a  blessing  or  a  curse  )  there  is  barely  any  mention  of  him  in  court  ,  a  year  or  two  in  prison  ,  barely  a  slap  on  the  wrist  .  the  law  forgets  the  selwyn  name  ,  or  is  made  to  forget  it  ,  and  her  husband  quiets  and  cowers  and  hides  ,  and  it  is  in  this  where  nasrin  finds  real  shame  .

there  is  no  honor  in  being  in  the  losing  side  ,  and  there  is  no  dignity  in  cowering  when  faced  with  its  consequences  .  nasrin  knows  about  the  whispers  ,  about  the  gossip  ,  about  how  shameful  it  is  ,  the  wife  of  a  convict  ━━  the  man  who  slipped  between  the  cracks  of  the  ministry's  broken  ,  broken  judicial  system  .

she  does  not  leave  ,  not  even  when  her  husband  begins  showing  the  same  symptoms  of  it  over  and  over  again  and  by  now  she  knows  better  than  to  pray  for  an  affair  .  she  does  not  leave  ,  even  when  she  knows  of  her  children's  own  shame  ━━  towards  their  father  ,  towards  her  . she does not leave , because it is what expected of her , and what is she if not the epitome , the picture of a loyal , unwavering wife .

going  to  be  so  serious  oh  man  she  really  is  the  girl  singing  in  the  wreckage  she  is  what  is  left  after  the  war  ,  she  is  what  remains  in  the  selwyn  manor  .  her  primary  instinct  is  to  protect  the  child  she  does  not  leave  because  this  is  what  she  is  expected  to  do  this  is  what  she  has  been  conditioned  to  do  /  believe  in  !

in  terms  of  motherhood  ,  i  do  think  that  she  is  a  …  decentish  mother  ?  loves  her  children  ,  does  not  know  how  to  approach  them  in  any  meaningful  way  .  they  have  become  reminders  of  her  shame  ,  of  her  shortcomings  ,  perhaps  ,  as  a  wife  and  a  mother  .  she  holds  them  at  arm's  length  the  same  way  her  father  did  to  her  after  her  birth  mother's  passing  ,  smthn  smthn  the  poison  drips  through  /  i  think  the  apple's  rotten  right  to  the  core  !!! i don't think her own children like her that much i fear ! they need to be given access to tumblr and pinterest to make their own mother wounds web weavings and i'm so serious

in my head all her kids are around 13 - 18 which means they r all school - aged and also just Away from their parents , probably resents nasrin even more because she was the driving force to sending the kids to beauxbatons instead of hogwarts

also  in  my  head  i  fear  selwyn  manor  is  harrenhall  level  of  horrors  like  the  real  trooper  here  is  nasrin  because  she's  98%  sure  the  place  is  haunted  even  if  she  has  never  seen  any  ghost  there  in  the  twenty  years  she's  been  a  selwyn  .  john  mulaney  voice  i  walk  over  a  cold  spot  and  i  wonder  who  that  could  have  been  !

[idolsxheadcanons]

﹥Reading w/ Switch Headcanons!

Characters. Natsume Sakasaki, Tsumugi Aoba, Sora Harukawa, Reader

Genre. Fluff — Warnings. None

Summary. Headcanons on how I think reading with Switch would go but it gets fluffier as you read. (very fluffy)

Words. 463

⤷ Obligatory ‘I love Switch’ message. I am still writing this Switch fanfic I started over a year ago bahaha (we don’t talk about the other drafts rotting in my files). Indulging in your special interest is so funny because I feel so happy right now. I don’t have much to say aside that I really want to write more for them. Enjoy!

Sakasaki Natsume

› It starts as a joke, with you remarking Natsume's voice being ideal for reading to children, and then you're seated on a chair with a blanket on your lap, Natsume reading out loud for you.

It's almost as if he's done this before, or maybe someone else used to read to him, you joke, and Natsume's face grows as red as his hair. Was it his mother or Wataru? Maybe each Oodball took turns? Each with their own character? He throws a squishy pillow at you for interrupting and misses.

﹥loading…

Aoba Tsumugi

› You sit on the couch in the secret room, shoulders brushing together in a way that makes Tsumugi overthink the whole time. His hand scratches the pages of the book as he flips to the next page. Scared to break the peaceful silence between the two of you, he glances at you every time to make sure you’re done reading, and when you nod, his shoulders relax. Finally he’s doing something right.

The words don’t register in his brain, and frankly, Tsumugi wasn’t really interested in the book you picked, but he appreciates the time you’ve spared to hang out, so he pretends to clean his glasses more often than not and hopes you won’t quiz him on the plot later. (He eventually confesses anyway, avoiding your gaze, and offers a faint smile if you forgive him.)

﹥loading…

Harukawa Sora

› You're sitting against a tree outside of school, overwhelmed by others and unable to speak, with a book in hand and Sora hovering above your shoulder. Tracing over the words you're at for Sora to keep up, he mumbles them gently so as not to disturb, a few gasps leaving him when the story's climax eventually arrives.

Strands of his hair brush over your cheek and you smile, readjusting your position against the tree so Sora doesn’t break his neck following along. At some point, Sora motions for you to lift the book, and he borrows your lap for his head to rest on. He falls asleep in record time, and you soon join him after far many yawns to count.

A warm hand pushing your forehead back and the snap of your neck jolts you awake. It hurts like hell. Natsume stares down at you two with a frown but kind eyes and Sora laughs, the blossoming pain in your back and neck fades as you exchange a ‘good morning’ hug with Sora and go back to Yumenosaki, the scent of a freshly opened book accompanying you to class.

﹥loading complete. thank you for reading！

[bandcampsnoop]

4/2/24.

Classic (Sydney, Australia) are another band from up and coming Australian label Blossom Rot Records. Just a few months ago we posted about the band Jungle Breed which had an upbeat Flying Nun vibe.

Classic mine a similar sound as Jungle Breed, but maybe share more in common with the likes of Susan, Look Blue Go Purple or Electrelane.

"Did You Have Fun?" was released a year ago. It was recorded by Cody Munro Moore and mastered by Snowy. More recent releases on Blossom Rot are Bad Bangs and The Vovos. I've yet to listen to a release from this label that I don't like.

[elkdiaries]

my works, posts i’m proud of, masterlist. (if you’re here ily)

ao3 fics

but i only have eyes for you — in which mike visits california, and self-discovery ensues. comedic. so sweet you’ll rot. the season four surfer boys pizza gang content we deserved.

theories and analyses

el not only found the demogorgon when she opened the gate in '83, but also had an altercation with vecna

the lite brite

stranger things s4 ep9 end scene instrumentals

byler and "in the closet (at rink o' mania)"

stranger things s3 ep1 and s4 ep9 similarities

joyce regretting moving to california

vecna = forever

will and clocks

byler and rainbow symbols

byler's apology scene; "the last year has been weird"

byler social experiments — here, here

moodboards (and their occasional one-shot counterparts)

nancy’s diary entries — a collection of her season one escapades, the lighthearted, and the deadly.

platonic madwheeler — mike confides in max about his home life, his blossoming feelings for will, and his intense desire to get out of hawkins.

mike comes out — a letter from mike to his mom, explaining why he’s been closed off lately.

the conversation with possessed will — the monologues from joyce, jonathan, and mike’s perspectives.

punisher and ellie + joel

boygenius’s the record and the party

byler and autumn

el’s ice cream shop

punisher and the party

cottagecore willel

hopclair on vacation

kindergarten byler

dustin and suzie at camp know where

headcanons

miscellaneous stranger things headcanons — here, here, here, here, here

madwheeler — here, here

stranger things summer

stranger things four

the hopper-byers family

will and max

elmax

henderhop

byerson

henclair

byler

elumax

hopclair

elmike

wheelclair

lucas

max

eleven

[lgcsaem]

✰ … YOU EVER BEEN ON A BOAT? there he goes again, rambling ( solo ).

filming never gets old— sitting before a camera, the room devoid of any life aside from misaki, a tiny bird perched outside of his windowsill, and the singular plant left to rot sadly in the far corner of his room, hidden behind a shelf that blocks any vestiges of light needed for strong leaves and healthy stems. it hadn't been too long since he'd last been required to film a vlog like this, something similar to a time capsule, one granting him the opportunity to speak his mind and sort his thoughts, but it hadn't circled back around to feeling unfamiliar.

misaki feels at ease before the camera ( he always has, and, if you were to ask him, he would always continue to ). the word shy was hardly one someone could use when describing him, his rambunctious attitude and knack for excitement being a stark contrast to the vast majority of his peers. maybe that's why he already feels his skin beginning to crawl, legs bouncing in the seat where he's sat, gaze trained on the camera set down on his desk.

the light blinks a few times, signaling to him that is really had started to record.

"can we go on another cruise sometime soon? it was awesome!"

maybe not the most professional way to start off, but at least his enthusiasm is clear.

"i've been on a boat before, and i've flown across the ocean plenty of times, but this was the first time i'd ever been able to take a real cruise before— even though we still had to take part in workshops, free time was super cool! have you ever gone rock wall climbing while on the ocean!?" already, misaki finds himself bouncing idly in his seat, a wide grin on his face as he speaks, snaggletooth out and proud for the camera lens to autofocus on for the briefest of moments. "i don't ever get nervous, but for the first time in a while, i sort of felt a bit on edge when we first got on the boat. my mom used to always complain about how sick sailing made her, that's why i hadn't gone on are real boats before— i hate feeling sick— but i think that might just be a her problem. i'd go on another cruise right now if you offered!"

for a moment, his gaze flickers to the wilted cherry blossom laying on the corner of his desk, his demeanor evening out slightly. for as exciting as the trip had been ( on all fronts ), it had also been truly eye-opening. normally, misaki wasn't one for learning, his general attention span stalling when non-physical activities were involved. "visiting so many different spaces in japan was . . . cool, too. i've gone to visit family a few times, but i didn't really have a great grasp on the language or culture— my parents never taught me while growing up back home, isn't that kind of a bummer?" misakis lips form a pout, eyes wide and round as he stares into the camera. "i liked being able to see and do so much, i wanna do it again soon!"

[trailing-petunia]

The Secret Life of Flower Seeds: Fun Facts and Growing Tips

Flower seeds may look small and unassuming, but they hold the power to transform your garden into a vibrant oasis of color and fragrance. From the delicate poppy to the sturdy sunflower, every bloom starts its journey as a humble seed. In this blog, we’ll uncover some fun facts about these tiny wonders and share tips on how to grow them into beautiful blossoms that will brighten your space.

Fun Facts About Flower Seeds

Ancient Origins: Did you know that some flower seeds have been around for thousands of years? Sunflower seeds were first cultivated by Native Americans around 3000 BCE, while evidence of poppy seed use dates back to the ancient Egyptians.

Dormant Yet Alive: Flower seeds can remain dormant for years, waiting for the perfect conditions to sprout. The oldest viable seed ever recorded was a 2,000-year-old Judean date palm seed that successfully germinated!

Travelers of the World: Some seeds are expert travelers. Dandelion seeds can be carried by the wind for miles, while coconut seeds float across oceans to find new shores to call home.

Microscopic Marvels: Orchid seeds are among the smallest in the world, almost dust-like, while the largest seed belongs to the Coco de Mer palm, which can weigh up to 40 pounds!

Nature’s Packaging: Seeds come in all shapes and sizes, each with unique adaptations for survival. Some have hard coats that protect them from harsh conditions, while others have soft shells that allow for quick germination.

Growing Tips for Success

Now that we’ve explored the fascinating world of flower seeds, let’s dive into some practical tips to help you grow a thriving garden:

Choose the Right Seeds: Start with high-quality seeds that are suited to your climate and soil type. At Trailing Petunia, we offer a wide variety of flower seeds, from sun-loving zinnias to shade-loving impatiens.

Prepare the Soil: Before planting, make sure your soil is well-drained and rich in organic matter. You can add compost or aged manure to improve fertility and structure.

Planting Depth: Planting depth is crucial for seed germination. As a general rule, plant seeds at a depth twice their diameter. Smaller seeds like poppies should be sown on the surface, while larger seeds like sunflowers can be planted deeper.

Water Wisely: Keep the soil consistently moist but not waterlogged. Overwatering can lead to rot, while underwatering can cause seeds to dry out. A gentle misting can help keep the soil just right.

Provide Light: Most flower seeds need light to germinate, so make sure they get plenty of it. If you’re starting seeds indoors, place them under grow lights or in a sunny window.

Be Patient: Some flower seeds take longer to germinate than others. Don’t give up if you don’t see immediate results. Keep the soil moist, and be patient—nature will do the rest.

Nurture Your Garden

Growing flowers from seeds can be a rewarding experience, and with the right care and attention, you’ll soon see the fruits of your labor blooming beautifully. Whether you’re a seasoned gardener or a beginner, there’s always something new to learn from the secret life of flower seeds.

So, what are you waiting for? Grab your gardening gloves, choose your favorite seeds from Trailing Petunia, and start planting today! Your garden is just a few seeds away from becoming a paradise of vibrant colors and delightful scents. Happy gardening!

[noloveforned]

we're closing out our week in the best way possible tonight- four hours of no love for ned on wlur from 8pm until midnight. join us live or catch up with last week's show on mixcloud when you have a chance!

no love for ned on wlur – march 8th, 2024 from 8-10pm

artist // track // album // label uncle tupelo // train // no depression // rockville gin blossoms // hey jealousy // dusted // san jacinto daniel romano's outfit // where's paradise? // too hot to sleep // you've changed sheer mag // playing favorites // playing favorites // third man bad bangs // contest // out of character // blossom rot ouzo! // lysergic reason // lysergic reason digital single // (self-released) love child // wait and see // never meant to be, 1988-1993 // 12xu queen of jeans // karaoke // all again // memory music sunlit // someone so beautiful // sunlit // elefant caruso // wait 4ever // kitten (remastered) // general manager mhaol // pursuit // pursuit digital single // merge varsity // without you // souvenirs // (self-released) james toth // the man on the ladder // demon stations (selected home recordings 2012-2022) // feral child sally anne morgan // grain song // measure, pour and mixtape- music for cooking compilation cassette // spinster steve gunn and david moore // i // live in london // rvng intl. lemon quartet // mudball prisoner // lemon law ep // dead currencies sam sanders and visions // slightly anxious // the gift of love // mad about eki shola // kaeru // kaeru // (self-released) moor mother featuring sistazz of the nitty gritty // south sea // the great bailout // anti- john carroll kirby // gecko sound // blowout // stones throw little simz // far away // drop 7 // forever living originals raz fresco and cookin soul featuring lord apex and estee nack // kodak moment // bakin soul // cookin soul dave east featuring onlyifwevibe // gregory hines // how did i get here? // from the dirt homeboy sandman // bop // rich // dirty looks omerta // moments in love // collection particulière // zamzam th blisks // a salve // how so? // altered states tapes en attendant ana // magical lies // magical lies 7" // sub pop pop filter // undertow // cono // bobo integral rob and jay // no big deal // with love from rob and jay // shelflife

[theeverlastingshade]

A few weeks ago Waxahatchee released "Bored", which is the 2nd single from her highly anticipated 6th LP, Tigers Blood. Whereas the record's first single, "Right Back to It" featuring MJ Lenderman was a mid-tempo cruiser that eased right back into the alt-country stylings of Katie Crutchfield's 2020 opus, Saint Cloud, "Bored" amps up the distortion and burrows deeper into an alt-country rock sound that actually rocks. It sort of strikes a middle ground between the twangier sound of SC and the fuzz-laden indie rock of Cerulean and Out in the Storm, which as far as I'm concerned, is exactly the sort of balancing act that her sensibilities are perfectly suited for. "Bored" is a masterful exercise in pacing and economy, as well as a masterful showcase of how the most powerful of hooks can be constructed from the simplest of phrases.

Katie's songwriting is succinct and air-tight, with simple but evocative rhymes "I can get along/My spine's a rotted 2 by 4/Barely hanging on/My benevolence just hits the floor" that blossom into a euphoric chorus surging with the sort of catharsis that seems to completely contradict the words of the chorus "I get bored" in the best way possible. "Bored" is the sort of snarling, adrenaline pumping anthem that seems to effortlessly achieve the rare feat of being something that feels like the song of the summer without coming off like a pandering bid for something along those lines. Like "Right Back to It", "Bored" won't surprise any of her fans, but it's an excellent place to jump in for newcomers and a very strong indication that TB is shaping up to be yet another excellent record.