#i miss them so much you can't even imagine

[everythingne]

little miss wingwoman (3) - ln4

You meet the Norris family, Penelope drops by for a surprise visit, and luckily Christmas Eve goes off without a hitch. Thanks to your amazing skills in everything that comes with being a nanny.

warnings/notes: I, once again, am posting christmas after christmas and i don't care <3 happy hanukkah by the way!! also shout out to my brother who inspired the whole 'athena falling asleep' bit here bc he did this w my baby cousin on christmas eve

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Lando is welcoming in his siblings while you're in the process of finishing up a quick little Christmas Eve dinner. They'd requested nothing crazy, so you'd scoured the internet to find a simple chicken dish, and had Lando go out to buy some games to play with the family. His siblings had all been on the same flight, but with a little rain systems coming through Monaco, his parents flight had been delayed a few hours.

Meaning, you got to be eased into meeting your roommate of barely a weeks family, and spending the holidays with them.

As you finally set down some tin foil over the last few sides, sliding them in the oven on a preheat setting to keep everything warm until Lando's parents arrived, Oliver and Flo poke around the corner to look at you.

You don't notice them studying the way you flow through Lando's kitchen, you're too busy counting over the names Lando had told you--Oliver, Flo, and Cisca, his siblings, you think in that order with Lando ahead of Flo. Then, Savannah, Lando's sister-in-law, and his two nieces Mila and Athena. His parents, Cisca and Adam, though you can't imagine calling them anything other than Mr and Mrs. Norris.

"Oh, guys," Lando's tone is full of smiles, proudly waving an arm to you as you turn around and discard your oven mitts onto the counter, "This is my roommate, Yn."

"Ah!" Oliver smiles, Athena in his hands sraring up at you with wonder in her eyes, "This is the roommate I've heard so much about."

"Oh, god, I hope all good things?" You step around Lando to properly greet each sibling, Savannah, and the girls.

"Lando talks about you a lot." Cisca teases softly, looking over at her brother, who flushed and quickly asked what everyone wanted to drink--safely deterring the conversation. Above everyones scurrying heads into the kitchen, you meet Lando's eyes, and find you can't look away as he crinkles up in a smile before turning to find cups for everyone.

A bit later, Lando runs out to go collect his parents from Nice's airport, leaving you with the siblings. Mila and Athena have taken to exploring the living room under their parents watchful eye as you scour for a good Christmas movie for them--settling on the Grinch after a while, just to have it on in the background. You can tell Athena's getting ready for a nap, but with so much excitement and noise, she seems to be struggling to settle down. Savannah seems a bit flustered, so you take a seat with her on the couch while Flo and Cisca sneak some cookies in the kitchen and gossip.

"So," Oliver starts, "We spent so long catching up with Lando, I never had a chance to ask anything about you."

"Oh, Sorry!" Savannah calls, turning to place a hand on your knee, "Don't want you to feel left out!"

"Don't apologize, it's alright! He's your brother and you said, Savannah, the last time you saw him was Goodwood, which was--what, July?" You say, watching as Cisca and Flo come to the living room, sitting down with their nieces and their toys by the big windows. Savannah offering the girls a thankful smile for taking them off her hands for the time being.

"Yeah, it's been a while." Flo hums, "And Cis and I didn't even see him at Goodwood, we saw him at Silverstone."

"He's so busy with racing, I see why but I still worry for him. He's still just the boy he was when we were young and running amuck through the woods in the middle of nowhere. He had no friends back then, and I worry he isolates himself here too, just blames it on being busy." Oliver leans back, running a hand across his head. You can see the worry for a baby brother he's watched grow clear in his eyes, and Savannah soothes a hand across his shoulders in comfort.

You hum softly, "He's got Max. And Oscar, Charles... Carlos, Alex and George, though I guess George is in London now... a lot of the drivers live close--we actually bought them presents for Christmas. He's got all of Quadrant too."

"And you," Flo prompts, looking up from where Athena tries to grab onto her hair.

"Yeah," you breathe out, turning to Oliver, "And me."

"How'd you meet?" Savannah asks and you smile.

"Max Verstappen, his 'bonus daughter' Penelope is the girl I nanny. I've worked for Kelly since Penelope was maybe three or four months, actually. Just an extra set of hands for her, but now I'm sort of like a housekeep? I watch the apartment when they're gone, cook, clean, help them keep track of everything--the two of them are also so busy." You laugh softly, watching as Athena uses the table to toddle her way over to her parents, Savannah picking up the sleepy toddler and laying her on her chest.

"But, with their baby on the way, the room I was living in is turning into a nursery. They didn't want to move, especially with a whole baby coming, so they helped me find a new place to live. Luckily, I knew Lando... kinda... we never really spoke much before but Penelope adores him so I've been out with Penelope at races or even in Monaco, and run into him."

Savannah watches as Athena scoots out of her hold and climbs across the couch, the curious toddler now taking up space in your lap as you wrap up your explanation, and a place a hand on her back, "So, Lando let me move in. I've pretty much transformed his entire apartment in exchange for the rent he's covering for me."

"I was going to say, it looks a lot better than the last time I was here." Oliver chuckles, Savannah countering with, "Yes, it does. A woman's touch was needed for sure."

"Lando kept asking us all about how to live with a girl," Cisca looks over her shoulder, watching as Flo and Mila move to join you on the couch. Little Athena snuggling into the warm of your hold as you move back.

"I told him it was just like living with sisters," Oliver rolls his eyes, "but he was insistent there was a way to do it wrong."

You laugh softly, imaging the way that he had probably begged for some sort of advice over the phone with his siblings, gently rocking a fussy Athena--who has been refusing her nap since she'd gotten into the apartment almost two hours ago now.

You speak softly, to keep the girl from waking up as she nearly is sleeping, "There really isn't, and I've been moving around so much my whole life I don't really have a set way to live. I kinda just adapt."

Before you can say anything else, the front door opens, and Lando announces he's back. Savannah lifts Athena, who whines, clinging to your shirt, and you shake her off, "I can take her, if it's okay."

"Sure, if it's fine. I wouldn't wanna wake her so close to her falling asleep. Athena loves to cuddle, she's a clinger," Savannah laughs softly, brushing her daughters wild curly hair back. You nod, holding her the way Savannah instructs--missing when Penelope used to be this tiny in your arms.

Lando's parents--Adam and Cisca, are happily talking with their children when you round the corner into the kitchen. Everyone turns with your presence, smiling at the sight of Athena curled in your arms, Mrs. Norris audibly aweing at the scene as you smile.

"Hi, it's really lovely to meet you both," You say softly, stepping over so they can give you hugs and greet their granddaughter who refuses to come out of the comfort she'd found nestled in your chest.

"I'll get the food out," Lando says, "I imagine you're all starving,"

"God, please." Flo whines, Oliver going to help his brother. You linger with the Norris parents in the hall, smiling softly as Athena lets out little snores against the warm fabric of your sweater. Savannah long gone after being dragged off by Mila.

Mrs. Norris moves into the kitchen, laughing as she scolds her sons for stealing bits of food while they bring everything out. The stack of bags and gifts flow down the hall now, the jackets and shoes overflowing the racks, and you can't help but smile at the liveliness of the once empty apartment.

"You're a real charmer," Adam says after a second and your attention is drawn to Mr. Norris. He grins, "Haven't seen Lando this organized in years."

You laugh softly, rubbing a soothing hand up and down Athena's back, "It's the least I could do for him, considering he won't let me pay rent. He's been really kind to let me live here."

"That's Lando for ya," Adam looks at his son in the kitchen, helping Mila get seated at the table, "He'd give you the skin off his back if he could."

As if sensing you both looking at him, Lando's head perks up, scowling as he comes over. He takes his father's jacket out of his hands and urges him to go get a plate of the food you'd 'slaved over' making all day in the kitchen. You can't help but giggle as he shoos away his father's knowing smile and wave as he goes to join his wife and kids.

"Thanks for saving this whole holiday," Lando looks over at you, catching the way you're already looking at him. A soft smile gracing your lips as you sway the toddler in your arms.

"Your family is lovely," you reply softly, "I'm glad I could do something for them."

Lando's quiet for a moment, the both of you just watching eachother. Turning back when Flo and Cisca start cracking up over some teasing thing Mrs. Norris is saying as Oliver scowls and rebukes whatever she's saying.

"Do you want a plate?" Lando says, "I can get mine last."

"No no, wouldn't want to wake Athena. I can always heat it up after she wakes." You wave a hand, and Lando nods, stepping closer to wipe a crumb off your cheek and brush a piece of hair back into place before Flo calls him over. You wave him on and he goes, making a spectacle about making his way back to the group.

Slowly, you make your way back into the living room, slowly sinking down on the couch and getting comfortable with Athena still snoring in your arms. And as the Norris' carry on in the kitchen, you can help but lay your head back on the cushions, cuddling in to the comfiest position you can find.

You fall asleep around the point Martha May announces her love for the Grinch, and right before Flo brings out Uno for the group at the table to play.

Lando comes over about twenty minutes later, pausing when he sees you knocked out. The rest of the family peeking around the corner as Lando grabs a blanket from the chair in the corner and walks over to where you are--Athena still snuggling into your hold. He gently drapes the blanket over the two of you, grabbing a pillow to lay under your head so your neck isn't killing you in the morning, and just takes a pause to sit next to you.

His eyes travel down your hair, to your closed eyes, parted lips, the soft breaths that leave you. The way Athena has tucked herself against your chest like she just knows you're safety, that you know how to take care of her. He lifts the blanket a little higher, resists the urge to press a chaste kiss to your forehead, and stands.

No one moves fast enough for him to not catch them staring.

"Looked like you were gonna kiss her for a second," His father chimes. Lando feels heat rise to his cheeks as his siblings laugh and he just waves away their comments as he comes back to play the game with them.

When Athena stumbles in to cuddle her mom about thirty minutes later, he peeks out to see you still asleep on the couch and tilts his head. Oliver leaning on the wall leaning into the living room as Lando steps forward, tucks his arms underneath you and carefully lifts you. It's not graceful by any means, but when your eyes flutter and you settle in as he holds his breath, Oliver bites his lip to keep himself from laughing at Lando.

"I'll get the door." Oliver says, nodding his head to where the spare bedroom is. His whole family pretends not to see him nearly whack your head into the wall when he brings you into your room and lays you on the bed. Mrs. Norris does come to ensure her son has you tucked in properly, with the blinds lowered to block out the setting sun as you curl up in your bed.

"Poor thing, she's absolutely knackered." She hums, waving Oliver out of the room as Lando sheepishly rubs his neck, walking over to her.

"She cooked all day, and we've spent the week decorating everything," his voice is soft as he looks over at your sleeping form in the bed, before his mother pulls him out of the room to shut the door.

"Well, she did a wonderful job." She winks knowingly at him, earning a shy laugh from Lando as she brings him back over to the table to keep playing games.

You do manage to get up and freshen up around nine, after his family has left to sleep off their jetlag. Lando's sitting on the couch with--surprisingly to you, Penelope.

"Max dropped her off, he and Kelly have dinner with their parents and P was supposedly exhausted." Lando pokes the girls cheek, but you can see she's clearly wide awake, sheepishly smiling up at you as you chuckle to yourself.

"I'm sure she was," You chime, sitting down at the counter as Penelope climbs up to sit next to you, leaning on you and looking up at you through her long lashes.

"I just didn't wanna go." Penelope admits softly, "All everyone's been talking about is the baby. I don't care about the stupid baby, I wish it was just me again, and I didn't have to fight this little thing in my Mommy's belly for some attention."

You hum, rubbing a hand up and down Penelope's back. She'd been complaining to you about the baby since you'd gotten back to Monaco, and you'd brought it up to Max and Kelly already. From the time spent in their apartment with them, you knew it wasn't their fault Penelope was feeling this way--after her first complaint. They'd both apologized to her, and explained it to her, and after that Penelope had been fine for a while.

But having every single person in your extended family fawning over the unborn baby in your mothers stomach--buying him tons of gifts and clothes, things Penelope was used to be doted onto her, the shift had to feel weird.

"Max and Kelly still love you," it's Lando who chimes from the couch, groaning as he stands up and stretched out his shoulders, "It's been hard for them with the baby coming, and you know how much the baby needs."

Penelope nods and you pout. Usually, Christmas Eve was reserved for the Verstappen-Piquets to spend the entire night together. But it seemed every one of their traditions had been tossed aside.

"How about this," you say softly, "I have some stuff left over to bake. Why don't you, Lando, and I make some cookies for Santa, hm? We can leave them out at your apartment when I drop you off."

Penelope does light up at that and agrees, so as Lando helps her get supplies, you finish shoveling your dinner into your mouth before standing to help them with baking.

By the end of it, after Penelope's roped you and Lando into a flour fight you know is going to be a disaster to clean up, you and Lando end up carrying up a sleeping Penelope and a plate of cookies. Max laughs softly at the sight of the three of you covered in flour, and Kelly thanks you both for staying up later to watch her.

When you return to Lando's apartment, the two of you elect to finish watching whatever movie is playing on the tv. And the quiet moment, broken by occasionally showing each other something on your phones or asking questions about this absolutely absurd 80s christmas movie, just fills the home with a sense of warmth you aren't expecting to feel.

It almost makes you not want to go to bed, but alas, the Norris' are coming back over in the morning, so you two duck off to bed eventually--hesitating to part due to the invisible magnet that holds you close.

SEE NOTES ABOUT TAG LISTS BELOW:

general tag list (open, tagged in all my fics, will not update for this series. If you'd like to be added to my general list FOR this series, let me know and I'll tag you in the comments!

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TO BE TAGGED IN COMMENTS OF EACH NEW CHAPTER:

@celestrablack @hadids-world @keij0h @annimausi

(thank you to all the new people (and my return readers ofc), and everyone who has left such kind words!! happy holidays to you all <3)

[shinysobi]

pretty u

summary: when joshua, your best friend gets engaged, you can't help but feel as though you're missing out on something important. jihoon, your other best friend, kindly offers to set you up with one of his many friends. chaos ensues, seungkwan is an observer who knows everything, and unfortunately, mingyu is a hapless victim.

pairing: woozi x fem!reader

genre: crack, fluff, angst, light smut

word count: 11k~ish (NOW YOU SEE WHY IT TOOK ME SO LONG)

warnings: alcohol consumption, general warnings apply,

a/n: this is the final chapter, a doozy because i dragged my feet instead of completing it. but i wanted to finish this for the new years, and so, here we are, a belated merry christmas present from me to you, and hopefully i can write more in 2025 a/n 2: comments and reblogs are always much appreciated, and i'd like to know your thoughts about this story heheheh

chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 4

Chapter 4

Its funny, how easy it is, to slip into habits. Old habits, ones that have seeped into your routine over time. I wake up, check my phone for emails. I make coffee, check my phone for emails. I get dressed for work, check my phone for emails. On weekends, I do chores leftover from the week, read books I have to write reviews of.

I would most certainly not be taking a nap in the middle of a Saturday with Lee Jihoon. I would not be lying down in my bed, lying next to, nay, cuddled up with, Lee Jihoon. If anyone had told me, even a few hours ago, that I would be snuggled up with Lee Jihoon, my best friend since university. Wait. Can we even call ourselves friends?

“Jihoon.” I whisper, elbowing him in the ribs. “Jihoon.”

“Mm, five more minutes,” he mutters, “I’ll get up then.”

“Hey, wasn’t your meeting with the producers this afternoon?” I ask, “you’ll be getting in a world of trouble because you didn’t show up.”

“I won’t be getting in any trouble.” Jihoon replies, voice thick with sleep, “I’m the terrible child of the company. They’ll keep me around as long as I make good songs for them, they’ll change meeting times when I ask them to. They’ll do anything as long as I’m happy.”

“You’re taking advantage of your position,” I smile, shifting closer to him, “anyone would think you have a horrible work ethic.”

“It’s all okay when it’s regarding my—wait, what are we?” Jihoon sits up in the bed, still half-dressed, “are we still friends?”

“Depends. Do you kiss your friends?” I sit up, facing him, “then we’re friends. Otherwise, we’re not.”

Jihoon pulls a face, “I just imagined kissing one of the boys. Ew, no, never.”

“Then I suppose we aren’t friends anymore.” I smile, leaning in, “we’re something else, then.”

“Can I call you my girlfriend yet, or no?”

I laugh. From this angle, his face is soft, so soft it feels as though he’ll evaporate if I try to touch him, “depends. Do you kiss your girlfriends?”

Jihoon grins, pressing his lips to mine, “all the time.”

“M-hmm,” I smile, touching his cheeks, soft and pliable underneath my fingers, “Woozi, aren’t you being a little presumptuous? All the time? What do you mean all the time?”

He pulls a face, “I swear to god, if you start some bullshit again, I’m going to break up with you.”

“And we’ve been together for what, three hours? That has got to be a new record, even for you, Jihoon.” I say, laughing as Jihoon tackles me to the pillows, “not to mention you’ve been pining over me for the past what—six, years, since you went for your military service. Imagine liking someone for that long, and not telling anyone about it.”

“At least I had the decency to keep it to myself like a normal adult,” Jihoon replies, “you on the other hand, you were a wreck after a week. Imagine being that down bad over a man. You should be repulsed by yourself. What would Andrea Dworkin say?”

“And that’s it, we’ve had a good run, bye,” I begin, trying to get out of bed, but Jihoon stops me, “let me go. You said yourself that I should be repulsed because I like you.”

“Three hours and five minutes,” Jihoon replies, “not bad at all, given that two of them were spent sleeping.”

“Really, who the fuck sleeps after getting together with someone? It’s like, violating the first ethics of relationships,” I grumble, “imagine kissing your best friend, who’s now your boyfriend, who then proceeds to take a nap in your bed? Who would do that?”

“Were you disappointed?” Jihoon asks, his expression changing to sly, “were you expecting something else?”

I roll my eyes, struggling to get out of his grip, but unfortunately, all the hours Jihoon has put in the gym has now created a reality where I can no longer get out of his grip, “no, I wasn’t, I was just expecting you to not snore on me after kissing me in my living room.”

His face falls, and he is about to say something, when my phone rings loudly, making me jump, “what the hell? Why is your ringtone so loud?”

“It’s not!” I reply, “I just forgot to switch it back to silent after coming back home today. I had it set on full volume last night. And give that to me.” I swipe to accept the call,  and soon enough, Jeonghan’s voice floats through the speakers.

“How are you two doing?” Jeonghan asks, and I stare at Jihoon, who seems to be equally confused as me.

“Jihoon said he was going to meet you, I figured that you two might have finally gotten your shits together,” he clarifies, “I’m not that old, nor do I have enough sense to stay out of your affairs.”

“Yes, yes, hyung, you’re the nosiest of us all,” Jihoon grumbles from next to me, “yes, we’re doing fine, thank you very much.”

“Great!” I can hear the barely-concealed glee in his voice, “Chan, tell the rest of the guys to pay up. I’m the only one who guessed correctly that they were going to get together by today.”

“Pay up—wait, hyung, you were betting on my love life?” Jihoon screeches, “why the hell would you do that?”

“I’ve seen and heard you pine over her for the past eight years, you nitwit, of course, I’m going to host a betting pool for when you finally get together. Not to mention, you’ve just made me an entirely obscene amount of money, which I’m going to spend happily.”

“Wait, if you knew Jihoon was going to come to see me, why did you take so long to call us?”

“I was being polite.”

“For what?”

“Well, if you two were having sex, I would not like to be calling in the middle of it now, would I?” he giggles even as Jihoon and I both let out twin gasps of surprise, “What? Did you not put years of sexual tension into use?”

“That’s inappropriate, hyung.”

“So, you haven’t.”

“Oppa!”

“Fine, fine, I’ll stop.” Jeonghan lets out one final demonic cackle (still cannot believe I called him my angel once), “I’ll let you two lovebirds be together. Oh, and Soonyoung told me to tell you, Jihoon, that he’ll take care of the meeting today. You can take a day off once in a while.”

“Thanks, hyung, I’ll go back to sleeping,” Jihoon mutters, handing the phone over to me and immediately burrowing himself in the sheets to get some more sleep.

“I’ll make myself scarce then, shall I?”

“Wait, oppa,” I say, thinking very hard, “you did this on purpose didn’t you?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I mean the whole situation. You were the one who kept telling me about how long Jihoon has liked me for, and you were the one who I called before Jihoon took the phone away from you and talked to me.” My voice takes on an accusatory note, “Yoon Jeonghan, did you manipulate me and Jihoon into confessing so that you could win a bet?”

“I will neither confirm nor deny that accusation.”

“So, you did.” I stand up from the bed, ignoring Jihoon, who’s already snoring softly, “Yoon Jeonghan, you better give us a share of the pool.”

Jeonghan laughs on the other end of the phone, “fine, fine, I will. I’ll take you and Jihoon out for samgyeopsal this week. Cool?”

“Just so you know, while we both will be there, I still don’t appreciate this.”

“Come on, writer,” Jeonghan wheedles, “anyone could see that you were both circling each other for half a decade. It was exhausting to watch, you know.”

“Fuck you.”

“Love you too!” he hangs up, and I go back to bed, sidling up to Jihoon, who hugs me in his sleep. Its nice, being this way. I can pretend that the world is just the two of us, in my bed, sleeping in the afternoon.

Jihoon doesn’t look lonely anymore. In fact, he looks happy, smiling even in his sleep. When was the last time I saw him like that? A memory floats up to my mind, of another afternoon, spent in Jihoon’s  flat, after we’d all finished giving the final exams. Jihoon had a job lined up with a production company, and I was about to start working with an online fashion magazine. Joshua was in graduate school, and everything was fine. We spent that one afternoon watching trashy soap operas on Netflix, drank too much booze and smoked too many cigarettes, and finally, just before we went to sleep, I could swear I saw a ghost of a smile on Jihoon’s face.

Until a week later, when his enlistment notice came, and I never saw that smile again. But now it is there, and I can reach out and touch him, and I can see his face relax even more under my touch, as if Jihoon had been craving it, even in his denial. I probably have, even after so long. Years of wondering ‘what if’ and now, finally, it’s here.

“Jihoon,” I whisper, “Jihoon.”

“What?” he burrows further into the blankets, “I’m cold now.”

“Jeonghan kind of manipulated us both into getting together.”

“He did?” Jihoon mumbles, “good for him, I now have a girlfriend.”

—

Jihoon wakes up in the middle of the evening, and shakes me awake too, because he’s hungry and I have to cook for him.

“I’m the one who told you about this apartment, so you kind of owe me,” he says, perched on a stool, “and no ramen, please. I’ve been living on that for so long I know all flavours that are there, and the convenience store guy looks at me strangely whenever I go inside.”

“Yes, yes, I know,” I mutter, chopping up vegetables to put in a stew, “I don’t have anything in the house, so you’re going to have to be happy with a random stew of things I found lying in the fridge.”

“That’s fine.” He replies, “at least I don’t have to starve.”

“Yes, Mr Woozi, I appreciate the concern, now wash the rice.”

Lunch (dinner? Linner?) is kimchi stew, with old vegetables and things that were almost going bad, but he eats it like it’s a Michelin-starred restaurant meal. Jihoon is not really picky: I’ve seen him eat everything from day-old scraps to a croissant that was growing mould on it (the less said about that the better) but us eating in my kitchen, this feels strangely domestic to me, in a way that’s almost scary.

“Are you scared?” Jihoon asks, spooning up rice into his mouth, “don’t worry, I’m scared too.”

I stare at him, “have you become psychic, by any chance? Do you want to change your profession to shaman?”

“I’d be a shitty shaman either way,” he replies, “the only person I know how to read well is you. You have that look on your face, so I asked.”

“What look?”

“The look that you get when you’re terrified of something, but you also want to do it.”

“I don’t have a look.”

Jihoon stares at me, “You totally do, I know it; it’s the same look you got when you attempted to take that class on Psychoanalysis in second year.”

“I sucked at it.”

“That’s not the point. The point is, you were terrified, but you also wanted to do it, I know that look. You might think you’re fooling people, and you can, but the last person you can fool is me; Joshua, to an extent, but I doubt he’s made a hobby of reading your every expression over a period of eight years.”

I make a face. Jihoon notices, because of course he does, “that’s the face you make when you don’t like what the other person is saying, but you know that they’re right.”

“That’s unfair, Jihoon.”

“Is it? I’ve known you for so long, of course I should know about your expressions.” He smiles, before leaning over to kiss me on the cheek, “that’s the expression you make when your surprised.”

“Then don’t fucking surprise me!” I press a hand to my cheek, “what was the reason for that?”

“Nothing, just making sure I didn’t dream up the last few hours, and that I can really kiss you whenever I feel like it.”

“I have to want it too, you know. Also, when did you get so keen on physical affection? I’ve literally never seen you be this way with anyone before.’

He shrugs, “I wasn’t pining over those people for years, so that’s there, too.”

I don’t know what to say to this, so I just laugh at his words, “Jihoon, aren’t you being a bit hard on them?”

“On who?”

“The women you’ve dated. The people I’ve dated. Like it or not, they are a part of us. They’ve made us into the kind of people we are today.” I take a sip of the soup, “would you have asked me out if we were in university? Or after you came back from the military?”

He pauses to think about it, chewing thoughtfully on a piece of kimchi, “probably not.”

“And even if you did, we would have hated each other, and broken up in a week. So, let’s not talk about the people who have given a part of their lives to us.”

Jihoon nods, “understood. Does this mean you’re going to invite your exes to your wedding?”

I laugh, “not to that extent, no, but I will respect them for their time and affection that they gave to me because for better or for worse, they were a part of who I was, before I fell in love with you.”

“Fell in love?” Jihoon gasps, “are you saying you’re in love with me?”

“As if this was even part of the question. Of course I’m in love with you.” I take a deep breath, standing up to clear out the remnants of dinner, “I don’t know how to say this properly but, I’ve loved you all throughout the time I’ve known you. As a friend, as a lover, as my family here in Seoul. I’ve loved you all the time. At the risk of sounding cringe, there has not been a time when I haven’t been full of love for you. Even if it didn’t seem that way, I’ve loved you for years.”

Jihoon doesn’t say anything, instead wraps me into a hug, “have you been taking lessons on how to deliver a speech?”

“Why, yes, I have.”

He giggles, which is a rare sound coming from him, “I’ve always loved you too. Even if I didn’t show it, even if I didn’t express it well, I have loved you.”

I kiss him, “sorry for taking all this time to realise my feelings.”

He shakes his head, “no, don’t be sorry for that. The way you are, the way you will be, I’ll always love you.”

—

I text Eunseo in the evening, asking her to meet me for coffee. Joshua and Jihoon are both too busy for brunch, so I have some time to burn. Eunseo texts me back within minutes, eagerly agreeing to meet me. I text her the name of the same café the three of us go to for brunch.

“You look great,” Eunseo says as soon as I walk in, “did something great happen?”

I stare at her. She’s dressed to go out this morning, wearing a light green dress under a heavy brown coat. In comparison, I’m wearing my office pants and a white shirt. We’re dressed miles apart. Saying that I look good is almost an insult.

But Eunseo doesn’t insult anyone, even knowingly, so I take my seat and say, “you’re joking.”

“No, not at all,” she replies, “you’ve got this glow that I cannot really put my finger on. It seems as though something great happened in the past few days.”

“Well, I did begin seeing Jihoon, so,” I shrug, but Eunseo is already clapping her hands in joy, “what? What’s going on?”

“Wait, I have to tell Joshua to come meet us,” she chirps, “I’m not saying anything until he comes back, but I’m so happy for you, you have no idea.”

Joshua, who was looking at suits in the morning, comes to the café within minutes, by which we already have ordered a bunch of things. He comes in looking harried, and the first thing he says, “I thought this was an emergency! You texted me she was dying!”

Eunseo laughs, “that was the only way to get your attention, josh, I’m so sorry.” Her expression shows that she isn’t sorry at all.

“No, you’re not,” Joshua sits down on the chairs, “you’re not sorry at all, Eunseo.”

They share a sweet moment, and normally, I’d pull a face and call them cringe, but today, I just don’t feel like it. maybe it’s the hormones of being in a relationship, or maybe I’m finally growing soft around the edges, but I think, what would happen if I text Jihoon to come see us right now? He’d probably scowl and refuse, but I can’t help but imagine the two of us in place of Joshua and Eunseo, sharing a nice moment. This is it; I think to myself, this is the moment you realise you’ve gone entirely crazy because of a man.

“Anyway,” I say loudly, interrupting the two of them, “Eunseo called you here because I have an announcement.”

Joshua stares at the two of us, “is she dying?”

“No! What the fuck, Joshua, I’m not dying!” I say, irritated by this line of conversation, “as I was telling Eunseo, I’m not dying, I just began seeing Jihoon.”

“But you can see him all the time,” Joshua says, still clueless as ever.

“Romantically. Joshua, romantically. We’re dating.” I say, rolling my eyes.

Joshua stares at me, speechless for a whole ten seconds, before he starts laughing, “finally. Cannot believe I had to endure all those years of Jihoon pining over you and you dancing around him because you wanted to avoid your own feelings.” He turns to Eunseo, who looks equal parts disgusted and horrified, “they are probably two of the most obvious people in existence.”

I narrow my eyes, “you both knew about this? And no one told me?”

To her credit, Eunseo looks apologetic, “I just didn’t want to burden you with the knowledge that we all were aware of the dynamics between you and Jihoon; you seemed like you were still figuring it out, and Jihoon didn’t seem like he wanted anyone else to know. But he’s right, you know. You two were seriously the most obvious people in the world.”

I want the earth to split up and swallow me whole, right at this moment. What do you mean we were the most obvious people in the whole world? “What do you mean we were the most obvious people in the whole world?” I wasn’t even aware that Jihoon had feelings for me until a few months ago! “I wasn’t even aware of my own feelings until very recently.”

Before Eunseo can reply to my statement, her phone rings, and she makes a face before picking it up, saying, “it’s the realtor. He is supposed to meet us later in the week.”

Joshua pulls an identical face, and not for the first time since they started dating, I wonder why it is that all couples start to look alike after a few years of being together. However, for the first time, I also wonder how Jihoon and I would look like after a few years together. Would we be annoying, like Joshua and Eunseo? Or would we be one of those couples who always fought and broke up and patched up, all within the span of a week, like those people in university? But that would mean I’d have to spend enough time with Jihoon, becoming one of those couples.

“You’re putting on your thinking face,” Joshua says, bringing me out of my reverie, “it’s the expression you make whenever you’re imagining something.”

“I don’t do that,” I defend reflexively, but I know he’s true, simply because this is not the first time someone has told me about my ‘thinking face’. It is, however, the first time that someone has called me out when I was thinking about Jihoon. “What were you saying?”

“Eunseo just left to take the call from the realtor,” Joshua smiles, “I must say, I saw this coming from a mile away.”

I scowl, “what do you mean you saw this coming from a mile away? I’m not someone who’s that predictable, am I?”

“Well, it is true. You are kind of predictable,” Joshua shrugs, “you’ve been wearing the same clothes since university, you eat the same ten dishes all the time, and you even like the same kind of side dishes. You’re very predictable.”

I sigh, “yes, fine, I’m predictable. Still doesn’t mean you saw this coming from a mile away.”

“Have you seen the way you and Jihoon behave around each other? No matter how much you say that you can’t stand the sight of the other person, Jihoon cares about you the most. He drops everything at a moment’s notice to come to your aid. You do the same thing too, it’s just that you aren’t as forthcoming about it as him.”

“Was that why you were behaving weirdly on that night?”

“What night?” Joshua seems to have entirely forgotten that one Sunday, except it is ingrained into my mind like its just yesterday, “I don’t remember anything.”

“The night that you proposed to Eunseo,” I say, trying my best to not sound frustrated, “when Jihoon told you he was helping me hook up with people, you reacted really strangely.”

“Oh, yes, I did,” Joshua looks sheepish, “I shouldn’t have overreacted like that, but it was very confusing for me.”

“Confusing?”

“Imagine one of your closest friends, who has been pining over another one of your closest friends, telling you that he is helping the girl he has had a crush on for the past six years, in getting her a boyfriend. How would you feel about that?”

“Um, well,” I pause on it, “I’d think my friend was stupid.”

“That’s it!” Joshua yells, “see how it was confusing for me? all throughout university I thought Jihoon had a crush on you, but all of a sudden, after years as your friend,  he’s trying to set you up with other men? I thought he was being an idiot.”

“Well, I told him he shouldn’t be doing that,” I grumble, “he didn’t even listen to me and went and blabbed to you about how he was going to set me up with one of the boys.”

“You were the one who made that comment about Mingyu,” Joshua accuses, “I’d better not see you make any excuses for yourself. And what does ‘platonically motorboat’  even mean?”

“It means you would like to motorboat someone, but platonically, not romantically,” Eunseo says, walking into the café, “babe, the realtor wants to see us today, if we can.”

“Really? He wants to meet us today? After changing the date so many times?” Joshua groans, “never mind. We should be glad he’s meeting us poor people, who just want to buy a newlywed home.”

“You should be glad he’s meeting you at all,” I say, gesturing for the check, “if I ever saw a credit score as bad as yours’, I’d refuse to give you any credit, let alone show you houses.”

Both of them pull identical scowls, “yes, yes, showing off your excellent credit, go on,” Joshua says, “I just know you bragged all about it to Jihoon already.”

“You’re not wrong,” I reply, grinning, “but Jihoon said I should brag to others too, so I’m bragging to you.”

“Never mind her babe,” Eunseo puts her hands over Joshua’s ears, “she doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

The three of us walk out into the early winter morning, shivering in the cold. Joshua and Eunseo promptly set off in a taxi to go meet their realtor, while I make my way to my apartment, suppressing my urge to text Jihoon about his work. I’ve been endlessly curious about his process ever since university, but the only times he’s allowed me into the studio I’ve either fallen asleep within ten minutes of being there, or we had conversations about things that were not related to his music production. On the other hand, if I text him right now, badgering him about his work, I will seem like either a. an insane, clingy girlfriend, or b. a stupid, clingy girlfriend. In both cases, Jihoon is going to get sick of me so fast, he’s going to break a record with how fast he’s going to dump me.

In university, I was part of the journalism club, and on the first group outing, one of the seniors, drunk off of one too many soju cocktails, had taken the first-years aside and talked about how one should behave when in a relationship. “Now listen,” she had said, “never, I repeat, never, let him know that you’re into him, especially in the first few months of dating. The less he knows about your real feelings, the better.”

“But sunbae,” one of my freshman year-mates had raised her hand, “what happens if your boyfriend gets to know how much you like him in the first few months of the relationship?”

The senior had sighed, before saying, “you’ve got to understand why men like women. They don’t like the person we actually are; they like the chase. They like the person we pretend to be when we start dating them for the first time. Therefore, unless you’re absolutely sure that this is a man you want to keep around for a long time, you must not let your real self show around him.”

We had all nodded, as if we understood what she was talking about, and I had spent the last few years   of my life earnestly following this rule. Never allowing my real self to be shown around the people I have dated. But now I’m dating Jihoon, who has been around for all of the embarrassing chapters of my life. How do I navigate this new change in dynamic?

My phone pings, and I look down, expecting a text from Joshua or Eunseo, talking about their wedding, but instead of the two of them, its Jihoon.

hoon: did you tell joshuji?

hoon: he just texted me btw

hoon: he also says that we have both been huge idiots

I pause in the middle of the road in my surprise, and narrowly miss hitting a pedestrian. I always knew Joshua was a snitch, but telling Jihoon not even ten minutes after I’ve left? That’s just low.

big dick (canon): cannot believe Joshua snitched

big dick (canon): actually no, I do believe it

big dick (canon): he and Eunseo ditched me after brunch so I’m now being forced to go back to my home

big dick (canon): my home that I love and adore

big dick (canon): but still, I don’t really want to hang out in my apartment all by myself

big dick (canon): it’s so boring

big dick (canon): I’m going to kms

hoon: you know, one of the many, many perks of having me as your boyfriend is

hoon: that you can come hang out in the studio with me all the time

hoon: and I won’t even get angry with you, unlike how I get with others

hoon: because I love you, and this is a perk I provide to my loved ones ONLY

big dick (canon): you have canonically told all twelve of your friends to fuck off from the studio, at least once in your lifetime

big dick (canon): and I’m not even including all the times you have told me no for an interview

big dick (canon): if I count all those times, its going to go to a hundred, EASILY

big dick (canon): and you’re telling me to come hang out with you

big dick (canon): this is HIGHLY sus

hoon: just come to the studio my god you’re so dramatic

hoon: don’t take this as a sign to stop being dramatic, I actually like it when you do that

hoon: if you tell this to anyone else, I’m going to deny it and kill you

big dick (canon): you won’t do that you like me too much

big dick (canon): anyway, should I bring something for you to eat

hoon: have I ever told you that I love u

big dick (canon): yes, u have

big dick (canon): multiple times, in fact

hoon: ugh so dramatic

big dick (canon): I won’t get you anything, then

hoon: get me some fried chicken

big dick (canon): I’m having it delivered to your studio. I’m coming in ten

By the time I enter Jihoon’s studio, the chicken has been delivered, and I open the door to see Jihoon munching on a drumstick. Unlike other days, the studio is messy, and he looks like he’s been through hell. Which, if you take Jihoon’s word for it, is not much, just three meetings.

“Shouldn’t you leave one drumstick for me?” I ask, shrugging my winter coat off, “fuck, its cold as hell outside.”

“Needed brain food,” Jihoon replies through a mouthful of chicken, “had a meeting in the morning, the sound engineers needed some changes to be done to Hoshi’s title track.”

“Sounds like shit,” I mutter, picking up a piece, “you’ve been working on that since the morning?”

“Not just that, but the girl group song too,” he replies, “they liked the first song so much that they want another song from me. I’ve been looking through the scratch files on my computer to find out what songs I can give to them that aren’t emo ballads I made after one too many drinks.”

“You know, some of us just vomit after getting wasted. Are you trying to brag to me that you become more creative when drunk?”

“I’m not bragging, some of these are actually atrocious,” he says, pointing to the icons on the screen, “this one is just called ‘I’m never going to be alive’. What does that mean? Why was I thinking about this at three in the morning?”

“Entertaining suicidal thoughts at three in the morning is something we’ve all done, actually.”

“This is just called ‘Love hurts’, and this one, I named it ‘Park PD is a bitch’.”

“I’ll go tell him you said that.” I laugh when Jihoon’s face darkens, “okay, okay, fine, I won’t, but why do you hate him so much?”

“I don’t hate him at all. he was probably getting on my nerves at that moment, and instead of talking it out like real adults, I chose to instead make a song draft calling him a bitch.”

I look closely at the computer screen, “Wait, Jihoon. All of these songs are love songs. To an extent. How many love songs have you written over the years?”

He takes a minute to answer that, “since university, I’ve either created existential songs or love songs, so, I’d say, about a hundred? Give or take, but I won’t put a number on it, since I’m not really sure.”

“You wrote about a hundred love songs?”

“Yes, I did, and they’re all in here,” Jihoon pats the external hard drive hooked up to the computer, “this holds pretty much all of my work.”

“Makes sense as to why you would guard it with your life.” I reply.

I go to sit back down, putting my feet up on the sofa, and Jihoon gives me a dirty look. I just smile in reply. He’s always a stickler for these kind of rules, but it’s funny to see him be so rattled. I’m not going to lie and say that seeing him be irritated is funny, because it is. An angry Jihoon is a cute Jihoon, I’ve learnt that back in university. Especially when he pouts like that.

“You still wear minion socks?” Jihoon says, stuffing his mouth with chicken, “I gave you that as a gag gift last year, you should have thrown them out as soon as you got them.”

“I like the socks. They’re comfortable.” I reply, shrugging, “who gave you the idea to give me socks as a gag gift?”

“Soonyoung. He thought it would be funny to give you cartoon socks.”

“Joke’s on him, I like having my feet warm.”

After Jihoon and I finish the chicken and clean up in record time, he goes back to his workstation, and I’m free to observe him as much as I want to. Seeing Jihoon in his element is always an experience. Even in university, I used to observe him when he worked. He has a singular focus on whatever he does, from eating to producing music. I’m also not going to lie to myself and say that he isn’t attractive when he works, because somehow his attractiveness gets turned up a hundred notches when he’s working. Or maybe, I like him too much and I find everything about him attractive. His eyes are laser-focused on his work, and the lines of his neck, disappearing into his shirt, is at odds with the Jihoon in my bed yesterday, peacefully sleeping as he held me for warmth. Before last night, I never knew that Lee Jihoon was someone who got cold even underneath a comforter, and liked holding someone else for warmth.

“You’re staring,” Jihoon says, breaking my line of thought, “I’ve been talking to you for the past ten seconds and you’ve been staring into space.”

“I was just looking at my handsome boyfriend as he works. Is that not allowed?”

“Stop saying that.” He mutters, going back to his work, but I can see him turning red. Jackpot.

“Jihoon.”

“Hm?”

“Are you blushing right now?”

He turns around to give me an impressive glare, “no, I’m not.”

“The back of your neck is red.” I grin, “were you getting shy?”

“No, I wasn’t.” he lies, his ears going red. At this rate, he might burst into fumes.

“Your ears say otherwise, Jihoon,” I stand up, walking over to his chair, “your ears and your neck is red. You’re getting shy, aren’t you?”

“What! No, I’m not—” he pauses for a moment, turning away from me, before grabbing me by the waist, “stop teasing.”

“I won’t,” I giggle, taking the opportunity to climb into his lap, “see! You’re going all red.”

His face is still turned away from me, but I can see the blush on his cheeks, “are you going to continue to lie to me, Jihoon?”

He pauses, before huffing, “you’re gonna regret teasing me, you know.”

“Pretty sure I won’t—aah!”

Unfortunately, my plan had but one singular flaw in it. I had underestimated how much he worked out on a weekly basis. Jihoon just glares at me, before picking me up and walks over to the sofa, my legs dangling around his waist. Seriously, how much does this guy work out?

“Really? I was working, and in the zone, and you had to tease me like that?” he grumbles, before unceremoniously dumping me on the sofa, “I shouldn’t have invited you over. Let me go back to work.”

“But you did,” I grin, my hands around his neck, “you invited me over. Lured me in, I’ should say. You lured me in, and now you should pay the price.”

Jihoon groans, before smiling, “is this how it’s going to be all the time?”

“Mm, I’m afraid so.”

Lying down on the sofa, I can see the lights on the ceiling, bright white, ones that Jihoon claimed helped him with his workflow. I hated them in the beginning, claimed that they hurt my eyes, but over time, I grew used to them, to the point where I can’t imagine there being anything else. Bright white lights. A comfortable sofa. Jihoon’s face obscuring my vision, so close that I can make out every individual eyelash. His mouth, full and open, insistent against mine. Jihoon kisses like he wants to do nothing else, I’ve realised. As though this was what he wanted to do all along. Anything is okay. I’m not afraid of falling, if it’s Jihoon. which is why  I find myself doing strange things. Like allowing him to touch me, even if it’s in the middle of day, in a room where anyone might come in; like allowing him to undress me, even if I’m underneath harsh white lights. Because its him, because its Jihoon. I can touch him in return, slip my hands underneath the shirt he’s wearing, because I can press my mouth just as insistently against him as him.

“So, this is how it’s going to be, is it?” he says, unbuttoning my shirt, “wait. You’re not wearing a bra?”

I roll my eyes. Of all the things he can talk about, this is what he chooses to focus on? “No, Jihoon, its winter. I’m wearing three layers over this. Of course I don’t want to wear a bra. It’s too much work.”

“I wish it was winter forever,” he replies, continuing to unbutton my shirt, “good god, if this is the outcome, I wish it was winter all throughout the year.”

“The economy is gonna hate you.” I mumble against his mouth, “imagine a whole year of winter. The economy is gonna go haywire. And all because you’re horny.”

“It’s a proof of how much I’m attracted to you, that I’m still working on  your shirt after you just started talking about the economy,” Jihoon finally manages to slip off the shirt I’m wearing, “total buzzkill.”

I scowl, yanking his shirt over his head in one go, “sorry I’m such a buzzkill, then.”

“You’re lucky I love you,” Jihoon kisses my cheek, “you’re so beautiful. Have I told you that?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Remind me to tell you this every day, then.” His hands are soft on my hair, stroking, “you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever laid my eyes upon.”

“Even compared to Jeonghan?”

“Even compared to Jeonghan.” He repeats, “why do you have to bring him up now?”

“Just like that.” I smile, kissing him softly, “so, you like this?’

“Is this how it’s going to be now? For the foreseeable future?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Thank god,” Jihoon murmurs, his hands on the button closure of my trousers, “I can’t wait for the future, then.”

—

Being in this industry means you have to meet with a lot of people. When I say a lot of people, I do mean a lot of people. I’ve managed to keep my connections alive, but it has not been easy getting to this place. Not the least for someone like me, who had no one in the industry to rely on. In the beginning, when I was working at the fashion magazine, everywhere I went I would be marked as an outsider, and it was surprising how easily doors could get closed. I’ve always been resentful of those times, but now, now it feels like a moment in time that never called its name out for me, and I cannot bring myself to care.

These are the thoughts that I usually have in the mornings. But now, things have changed.

For one, Jihoon is sleeping next to me, his hands holding me close. Its strange, looking at him like this, peaceful instead of a permanent frown etched into his brow, a small smile on his face instead of the scowl that seems to have carved out its own position on his face.

Nowadays, I wake up before Jihoon does, and on most days, I spend some time looking at his face. He was always beautiful, but now, now he looks ethereal. It takes all my self-control to not run from this, because how can someone like me be happy? What right do I have to happiness?

“You’re thinking too much again,” Jihoon says, shaking my train of thought loose, “I can practically hear your gears turning.”

“Morning,” I reply, hoping it sounds smooth and easy and not like I’ve been consumed with depressing thoughts.

Jihoon hums, pulling me in closer, “you always think too much. Its time you stopped thinking so fast.”

“Hm? Do you have a way of doing that?”

That gets his attention, and he opens his eyes. Still sleepy, but fully awake. “You want me to do something about your overthinking?”

“Yes.”

“Hm, I have a thought on how you can change that.”

“And what is that?”

He smiles, half-awake, and kisses me, and my mouth eagerly opens up to let his tongue swipe in, mapping the inside of my mouth with as much ease as he does when composing music. its almost embarrassing how eagerly my body responds to his touch, my hands finding their way inside Jihoon’s shirt without missing a beat, bringing him closer to me as if it’s a dance we have practiced over a long time. It’s a good thing that Jihoon is just as eager as me, pressing himself against me roughly, hard from the barest of touches. If he wasn’t wearing his sweatpants, he would realise just how wet I was from his touches alone, how he managed to reduce me to a wet, moaning mess with only a ghost of his touch and nothing more.

“Mm, just so you know, you’re kind of fulfilling a dream of mine.”

“Which is?”

“Having my way with you in the morning.” Jihoon grins, sitting up to pull his shirt off over his head, and my eyes widen as large purple blotches come into view. God, what did I do—those look like the work of a feral animal, not a mostly sane woman in her twenties. He, on the other hand, looks composed, dragging my shirt up and adding it to the pile on the floor. Almost immediately, his mouth is back on mine, his large hands manhandling my breasts. He’s just as affected as I am, moaning into my mouth as his fingers pinch and twist my nipples, the two of us barely managing to not devolve into a moaning, screaming, mess.

“Have I told you,” he yawns, coming up for breath, “your tits are incredible.”

I scoff, “yes, yes you have, Jihoon, multiple times. I get it, you like them.”

“Like them?” Jihoon grins, shoving two fingers into my mouth before putting his on  my nipple and sucking me hard enough to cry, “babe, I love them, they are perfect.”

Fuck. Jihoon’s obsession with my breasts means that he spent half an hour getting me off last night with his mouth and fingers alone, and I’m oversensitive to the point where his current ministrations are toeing the line between pain and pleasure. His fingers are in my mouth, long and deft, and I can remember where they had been the previous night.

“You gave me enough hickeys to last a lifetime, baby,” Jihoon mutters, still sucking roughly on my breasts, “it’s only fair I get to return the favour.”

Before I can even process what he means, he bites down on my nipple, hard enough that my back arches from the mix of pain and pleasure, and he can feel exactly how wet I already am. At this rate, he doesn’t even need to prepare me to fuck me, he can slide into me with ease, without even taking off his pants.

Jihoon is tired, sleepy, and so am I, the initial rush of waking up next to him fading away quickly as the early morning catches up to the both of us. There’s nothing rushed about the way he’s pushing in and out of me right now; it’s a slow embrace, something that I can hold on to for the rest of my day. Jihoon’s back is wide enough that I can’t really wrap my arms around him, and his mouth is slow against mine, insistent but not really pushing. It’s all Jihoon, and my brain is slowly going into overdrive because of how close he is.

“Have I told you how much I love you?” Jihoon asks, after we’re both finished, lying in a haze of our own happiness, oblivious to the world around us, “if I haven’t, consider it an oversight I wish to rectify. As much time as it takes.”

“Are you—proposing to me right now?” I ask.

“Well, it’s not really a proposal yet, but I am going to. And it’s going to be with flowers and a grand gesture that you really can’t turn down.”

“Never took you for a romanticist, Lee Jihoon.”

“Well, that’s the beauty of dating me.”

—

Mr Hong is an impressive writer, which is perhaps why I have always been a little jealous of him and his work. It’s also not at all strange as to why he only agrees to interviews with me, given his prickly demeanour, which has not really improved in the years that I have managed to work with him.

But even with all my misgivings, work is work, and I make my way to the office to pick up my files for the interview, and Seungkwan offers me a warm latte, insisting that I should carry it into the interview. The drink is still warm in my hands, and I stare at him. he just shrugs, “what, you should take it to him, it’ll look nice if we bring him something to drink in an interview.”

“Seungkwan,” I say, trying my best not to laugh, “have you read all of Mr Hong’s interviews with me?”

“Yes, I have, why?”

“Then you should also know that he only drinks tea from a specific tea garden in India, right?”

Seungkwan stares back. “He’s that much of a tea snob?”

“He earns ten billion per year in book sales, he can afford to be a tea snob. He imports the tea himself. He doesn’t drink coffee, and he would also hate it if I offered him a drink. It makes him feel like he’s not being a good host to me.”

“She’s like a criminal profiler when it comes to him,” the Editor hands Seungkwan a file, “managed to get all this information from the one single television segment filmed at his house.”

“Kind of forced to, since there was no prior information on him,” I mutter, but Seungkwan’s eyes widen, and he grabs my hands, eyes shining, “what the hell are you doing? You’re scaring the shit out of me.”

“You’re so cool, sunbae,” Seungkwan says, almost giggling from his excitement, “can’t believe you exist.”

“Seems like her boyfriend cannot believe she exists either,” The Assistant Editor sets down a cup of coffee at my desk, “cute guy. Handed me the coffee and said I should give it to the Associate Editor.”

“Jihoon said that?” I ask, picking up the warm cup. It’s an iced café mocha, sugary enough for Seungkwan to cringe when he takes a taste of it. “Jihoon doesn’t really refer to me by my title.”

“He always does with us, though,” Seungkwan says, “in fact, he’s been quite besotted with you since your university days.”

“University? It took them that long?” Haewon tuts, “really, sunbae, you should have just gotten together by now.”

“He should be doing that more, if you ask me,” the Assistant Editor smiles, “how does it feel to be the author of one of the most popular columns in the newspaper? There are a couple thousand hits on it every day, and that’s me being conservative with the estimate.”

“They love that column,” the Editor pipes up, “we sure are a depressed country.”

“Yes, yes, I’ve just been giving a voice to the most depraved of our society,” I mutter, slinging my bag over my shoulder in what feels like a fourth time this morning, “Seungkwan, are you coming along?”

“Yes!”

Writer Hong’s house is in the same neighbourhood as Jeonghan’s, but he has been living in it since the 90’s and to my knowledge, there has not been a violent murder to reduce the price of the house. Not that he would complain about it, given his obsession with true crime and the lurid crime novels he had written in the 80’s under a pseudonym that I had dug out for him to agree for an interview; because while the television segment did help, it was nothing compared to the immovable force of Writer Hong’s refusal to be in the spotlight. Which is why I had to yell out one of the names of his books (written in the 80’s) before he could disconnect the call. It was the first month I had been working at the news desk, and I was different. Hungrier. For recognition, or for someone to tell me that leaving my comparatively cushy, but dead-end job at a fashion magazine to pursue a career in journalism (good journalism), but journalism that does not pay the bills, was a bad idea. It was my first scoop, and I still remember being congratulated around the office like I had conquered a country. It was supposed to be a one-off thing, something a young writer had accomplished against the better judgement of all the adults involved.

But then Writer Hong had gone and taken a shine to me. I like the way you conduct interviews, he had said, very short. Not like those other blithering idiots who only go on and on about how great my work is.

Which brings me and Seungkwan to this morning, standing outside his mansion—it’s a mansion, a house the two of us can only dream of buying one day—in the cold winter air, Seungkwan nervously clutching the file he’s kept holding on to ever since we left the office building.

I ring the doorbell, and Seungkwan whimpers. Whimpers. I give him a sharp look, and he manages to compose himself just in time for Writer Hong to open the door, grumpy and ruffled, but he opens the door and lets us in, and soon enough, we are sitting in the middle of a tastefully done room, waiting for him to serve us with expensive Darjeeling tea. Seungkwan’s foot vibrates at an almost supersonic speed.

“So,” he says without much of a preamble, entering the room holding a teakwood tray, “I should call you Writer now, instead of Associate Editor.”

Its difficult to stop the blush that spreads across my cheeks, and even Seungkwan lightens up at that statement. Writer Hong had always been someone who valued propriety and how to address someone properly above all else, a relic of the old age, even if he had hated it in his youth.

“I’m still Associate Editor to you, sir,” I reply, holding the porcelain teacup carefully, “the writing is just a column.”

“And one of the better columns I’ve read in the last few years,” he grumbles, “my wife made me read it, you know. And I thought it was nice. Better than what that hack Kim Hong-Sik has been getting up to in these past few days.”

“Did not think a column on unachieved dreams would be exciting to you, sir,” I say, with a small smile, and he guffaws.

“You should start writing properly, then,” he says, “if you think your column is not deserving  of praise, going against the word of me, arguably the best writer Korea has seen in the past few decades.”

“That’s going a bit overboard, don’t you think, sir?” I say, and Seungkwan gasps, but Writer Hong just laughs ad laughs, “I mean, Han Kang exists.”

“Best Male author, then.”

The rest of the interview goes smoothly, and he even warms up to Seungkwan considerably, although he calls his way of peeling oranges ‘disgraceful to the flavour of an orange’. Its good, and it makes me feel accomplished, at noon, and before we leave, he even relents to take a picture with me, amidst his impressive collection of Korean art.  

“That went very well,” Seungkwan says, as we flag down a taxi, “didn’t know he could be like that. He’s usually so—reserved. And grumpy. In all the award shows.”

“He’s big on privacy, but fame really got to that.”

“Privacy?”

“There was once a story about his daughter, who passed away before she turned a year old. He and his wife hated that article so much he stopped giving interviews.”

“Really?”

“Really,” I say, closing my eyes, and Seungkwan falls silent. He was probably too young to have read that article—hell, I was too young to have read that article, but its easy, to wield this destructive power if you have it, especially without any regard for how the other party might feel about it; most people in my line of work get drunk on it, ruining lives just for the sake of ruining them.

We pick up lunch at a corner store, and walk into the office building in silence. Seungkwan has been looking up old articles, and he’s upset, clearly, given how his mouth settles into a frown, one that doesn’t go away even after Haewon presents us with doughnuts from the cafeteria, a present, she says, from the Editor-in-Chief.

“They’re waiting for you in the Meeting room,” she tells me, and I frown, because why the hell would they be there?

“Ah, there’s the Associate Editor!” the Editor booms, his head poking out of the meeting room door, “come have a chat with us.”

Its normal, jovial even, but I approach the room cautiously, only to be greeted with wide smiles from the two men.

“There’s a book deal for you.” The Editor-in-Chief,  a man of blessedly few words, says, as soon as I enter, “they like the column, and they want to publish it.”

“Of course, the legal team is going to establish your fees and how much of it should be going to the company—” they drone on, but all the words and thoughts have flow out of my head because holy shit I have a book deal now. Writer Hong’s words from this morning come to mind, and I smile and nod through the entire meeting, assuring them that while the company’s lawyers are sufficient, I should like to talk to my own lawyers about this, and that everything is okay, I would really like to go over the terms and conditions of the contract before signing it, and yes, I was reviewing it positively. While they hate that a column is possibly going out of circulation, they can’t help but think about all the extra money this is going to be bringing in, the extra money and the popularity, being known as the company that fostered a young author’s work. It’s a win-win deal, one that I would be stupid to turn down.

I leave the meeting room and call Jihoon, my hands shaking, and he picks up within three rings, his voice soothing and calm like it always is, “hello?”

“I’m going to be a writer,” I say, no other explanation or long-winded preamble, and Jihoon understands, “can you come pick me up from work?”

“I’ll be there in half an hour.”

I stand up, straighten my pants, and leave the bathroom, marching straight up to the editor’s desk, “I’m taking the rest of the day off.”

“The rest of the day?” he sputters, “wait, what about the interview?”

Seungkwan pops up his head, “I can write that. It’s just compiling all that was said.”

“I’ll check it, and Seungkwan needs to take point on a project,” I say, “besides, if you want me to focus on the column full-time, then someone needs to interview Writer Hong instead of me, right?”

“Still, you shouldn’t be leaving in the middle of the day,” he protests weakly, and the Assistant Editor smacks him with a pamphlet, “what was that for?”

“Clearly, she has someone waiting to pick her up, you buffoon,” she groans, “when will you understand? Just because your love life is barren, doesn’t mean everyone else is the same as you.”

Seungkwan winces, “wait, are you going home with Jihoon-hyung right now?”

I roll my eyes, “would you prefer to have the sordid details?”

“No, thank you.”

A peal of laughter follows me as I walk out of the office, and then the elevator and then Jihoon is standing in the lobby, flushed and wonderful, his nose red in the snow and biting wind. Because I’m a sane woman who is not given to theatrics, I merely walk up to him and tuck my arm into his, moving past the sliding doors onto the street. He’s wearing slippers, I notice, he must have come here straight from the studio.

“Very different from the feral woman who attacked me last night, I see,” Jihoon murmurs, strapping me into the seat of his car and kissing me for a tad bit (okay, thirty seconds) longer than what can be termed as an appropriate hello kiss.

“I was not that feral.”

“I have to wear a turtleneck for a week!” he exclaims, pulling down his shirt to show the extent of the damage, and I look away, embarrassed, “no! you don’t get to look away from me!”

“I like you in turtlenecks.”

That pleases him, and he smiles , “then I’ll wear them throughout the year.”

“Jihoon, you’ll suffocate.”

“I’ll have you.” He grins, “so, celebration?”

“I want to laze away today. Take a nap. Order shitty food.”

“I’m assuming there’s coitus involved. And not to mention, you dragged me out of work today.”

I wrinkle my nose, “do not say that word ever again, or else I’m kicking you out of my bed. And besides, what’s the point in being a famous producer if they don’t let you get home to your fiancée now and then?”

“What, coitus?”

“You’re no longer allowed into my bed,” I mutter darkly, and he just laughs.

The apartment building is mostly quiet this time of the day, but we pass a fair few old people who give us strange looks for coming back so early from work. Given that there have been multiple witnesses to me coming back at one in the morning, tired from overtime, and Jihoon walking into the elevator when the old ladies have finished their morning stroll, dark shadows under his eyes so pronounced he had to sleep for a week to get rid of them.

Jihoon presses the code to his home, and the two of us walk into the hallway, closing the door behind us to avoid the cold draught from chilling us to the bone.

“What should we get/” Jihoon toes off his slippers, scrolling absent-minded through his phone, “there’s a shop that delivers samgyetang, and I thought we could get some delivered, since you’ve been coming down with that cold for the past few days.”

“I’d like that,” I shake off my own shoes, sensible boots compared to Jihoon’s slippers, and kiss him again, for no other reason that I can and I will. He smiles against my mouth, “order me a whole chicken, Jihoon-ssi.”

“Two whole chickens,” he amends, “we can have the soup throughout the week. Shower?”

It is an innocuous enough question, but the way Jihoon’s eyes flash makes something shift inside of me, and I find myself returning his little smirk, peeling off the heavy coat, “you know there’s a water shortage.”

“Hmm. Its very bad. We should be conserving all the water we can.”

Jihoon pulls me close to kiss me again, and I laugh, leading him towards the shower.

—

My hometown is a quiet town. Sleepy, with neighbours that know everything about everyone. I used to hate them when I was younger, hated the way they always compared me to my sister, told me I had to be better in order for me to meet my parents’ expectations, as if nothing I did was good enough when compared to her. Nowadays, it’s a welcome distraction; reminding me of the fact that nothing in my town really changes, or will ever change. Not for the better, nor for the worse.

“Oh, are you here for the wedding?” the old man at the fruit shop says, as Jihoon and I walk out of the car, Jihoon yawning behind a closed fist, having slept half the way while I drove, “wait, you’re Yong-Hwa’s sister-in-law!”

“Yes, we’re here for the wedding,” I reply, as Jihoon shakes the falling cherry blossoms out of his hair, “just wanted to pick some fruits to take back to the house.”

That get’s his attention, and he spends an entire half-hour detailing to us every fruit he had at the store, and how good they would taste in season. In the end, we buy a box of strawberries, ones that he assures me are going to ‘taste like heaven’, and Jihoon is taking the driver’s seat for once, and we are speeding towards the house where I have spent my childhood and adolescence.

“Hasn’t been that long since I visited this place.” Jihoon says, turning a corner so that my home is visible, “this feels different somehow.”

“Yes, well, we weren’t together when you visited my mom. And its only a reminder of how much she wants me to visit, and I keep avoiding her requests.”

“But you’re here for the wedding.” He says, and I turn to look at him. Jihoon looks resolute, his mouth set in a line I haven’t seen for a long time, the light casting deep shadows on his face. My eyes move to the smooth gold band on his ring finger, its identical twin gleaming on my hand. He’s nervous, navigating this journey from being my friend to being my intended, meeting the family all over again, essentially.

There are flowers all over the house, bursting into bloom for my sister’s wedding, and I think to myself, this is how it usually is, huh. It’s a surprise that the usual dread that settles into me at the thought of getting married has been replaced with a pleasant anticipation, looking forward to navigating a lifetime with Jihoon.

“You’re here!” my mother shouts as we get down from the car, “they’re here!” she yells to someone inside the house, and soon enough, my father ambles out, looking every bit the disgruntles, emotionless father I had grown up with, looking at his youngest daughter and her partner. My mother envelops me into a crushing hug, but its my father’s gaze that I cannot return, because to this day I cannot live up to the ideal that he had had constructed for me.

My mother doesn’t notice the rings on our fingers, or even if she does, she doesn’t say anything, and we just haul the suitcases up into the house, where Jihoon has the guest bedroom, and I have my old childhood one. Settled in, I leave Jihoon to his devices, answering calls from the company about the new album, and walk down to the kitchen to help my mother with dinner.

“Is everything all right with Jihoon?” she asks, cutting carrots into tiny little pieces, “are you two finally together?”

I say nothing, just pour myself a glass of tea, “didn’t think you’d noticed.”

“Oh, the couple rings were too nice to not notice, actually,” she laughs, “its good. You two suit each other very much.”

“Now you’re saying that to take the piss,” I grumble, “you’ve never once approved of the people I’ve dated, whether I dated them or not.”

“That’s because you dated them to stop your mind from crashing and burning,” my mother says, gentle as ever, putting the ingredients for soup into a big pot, “you’ve always been headstrong that way.”

“As opposed to my sister?”

My mother sighs,  a sign of a battle she’s already lost against herself, “I’m sorry about that.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore.” I wave my hand. It matters so much. “I was the problem child, I guess. Every family needs one.”

“You were not a problem child,” my mother says, “you were just out of our reach, at times. and when we finally thought we understood you, you ran away and concealed yourself from us.”

“That’s what I was taught.”

“And I should have taught you differently.”

“Never mind, mother,” I give her a quick smile, “you’ll be watching your daughter get married, and in a few years, you’ll be a grandmother, and that will give you enough happiness to tide you over for the next ten years.”

“I think about you too, you know.”

“Congratulations on that, mother.” I reply, walking out of the kitchen.

Jihoon is sitting on the bed when I open the door, hands clutched around a  cup, “I wish we hadn’t come back.”

He raises an eyebrow, “this is your home.”

“I know, its just—there’s no one here that knows me, and even if they do, its only by association, as the sister, and my parents are all on eggshells around me, because I blew up in their faces about my childhood, and how much I hated being here, and its never going to stop, is it, I’m going to be this way, this festering, annoying, difficult, person, and I’ll never really be normal ever again—”

Jihoon wraps his arms around me, pulling me into a hug that’s at once reassuring and scandalous, “you’ll be fine. Your family are, well, they’re sorry, and they’re on eggshells because they don’t know how to approach you anymore. It happens. You can leave to Seoul and have your career, but they’re going to stay on in this town, and be reminded of the fact that maybe they didn’t do enough. Let them hover. It’ll put them at ease.”

“Fine.” I grumble, “I just came back because I love my sister. And Yong-Hwa. He needs to have a chance to run away before he hitches himself to her.”

Jihoon laughs, “would you say the same thing for me?”

I narrow my eyes at him. “What?”

He unwraps his arms from around me, fishing in his pocket, “wait, I forgot the ring at home.”

I gape, “you were going to propose to me?”

“Yes, but now that I forgot the ring, there’s going to be no proposal.” Jihoon grumbles, “stupid.”

“That’s fine, it would have been inappropriate for us to take away my sister’s spotlight,” I grin, pulling him back into a hug, “I accept, nonetheless.”

“Really?”

“I do expect a proper proposal back  in Seoul.”

“As you wish, always.”

—

Jihoon proposes with a car full of balloons, and he enlists the help of the other guys to make the proposal truly memorable, a phrase that I’m rapidly beginning to attribute to him. its gorgeous, and everything I had never imagined when it came to a proposal. The wedding, however, is much my style, the two of us traipsing down to the courthouse to submit a form and being declared married by the clerk, who tells us darkly that there’s a divorce counter just in the next room. Jihoon laughs, and I laugh, before walking out of the courthouse to meet our friends (and family) for dinner.

It’s a new life.

—

To LJH,

For being my friend.

[cosmic-expressions]

⋮ ♯; ⤷ CAN'T HELP IT, I JUST MISSED YOU .ᐟ

ANON SAID: saw you opening ask and the caelus tag 👀 i just HAVE to. so.... imagine waiting for them at the express while they're in a longg mission, missing them so much you just gotta wear their jacket/clothes and sleeping on their bed because you miss their scent. then one late night they came back exhausted, beaten up and pent up from the long weeks of not meeting you. only to see you bundled up under their blanket and wearing their clothes, too big on you, with not much anything under .....you can take care of the rest ;P it doesn't have to be Caelus only! any character tbh. or how about both Caelus and Dan Heng 👀👀 anw tysm! i understand if you don't reply to this <33

caelus x fem!reader; smut; petnames (good girl, princess, baby, dear, etc); f!masturbation, unprotected piv; foul language(???) // dan heng x fem!reader; smut; petnames (sweetheart, sweetie, etc), praise (i guess??); fingering, handjob // caelus x fem!reader x dan heng; smut; petnames (mix of those listed above); oral (f!receiving), f!masturbation, lmk if other warnings apply a/n: mb it's so short but I every time I try to think about it more my brain just says adios amigo so. yeah. that's that on that. enjoy

CAELUS ―୨୧⋆˚

he’s tired. pent up. the mission was tough and stressful but thankfully it’s finally over. so now he can finally meet with you, his beloved good girl, the one he loves to hold, loves to touch, loves to have close–

“baby?”

his voice has you all excited, making you gasp softly and get up from his bed in seconds. you just throw yourself on him, nuzzling into his neck and placing soft kisses in the crook of his shoulder, all while smiling.

“welcome back,” you murmur, voice gentle and loving, just like your touch. you speak something more, but caelus doesn’t register a word; all he can focus on is your outfit. his t-shirt apparently serving as your nightgown with nothing underneath, successfully revealing your hardened nipples and…

“were you touching yourself just now?”

his tone is soft and somewhat teasing; he doesn’t mind you playing with yourself because he does that a lot as well, all to the thoughts of you. but knowing you were in the middle of it all while wearing his clothes and doing it on his bed…

“i missed you too much- couldn’t really help it, dear…” you murmur back with arms still over his shoulders and with your lips glued to his neck.

“missed you too, lovely- fuck!” caelus groans and throws his head back, almost cumming in his pants when you gently palm his painful bulge. you’ll be the death of him.

he doesn’t waste much time undressing, moving frantically just to get to touch you as quickly as he can. and when he finally does, oh aeons, his brain short circuits.

“oh- fuck! cae-caelus-!” you moan desperately when you finally feel your beloved boyfriend filling you up with his cock, throbbing and rock hard; no matter how hard you try, you and your fingers are not enough anymore to make you feel as good as with caelus.

“shit-! princess, i missed you so bad, you know? you and your- fuck- and your pussy, and your lips, and your-” he and his gleeful mumbling are quickly muffled by the sloppy kiss you two share. you’re moaning into each other’s mouth, kiss soon becomes a mess of tongue and saliva. “princess, i can’t- can’t last long, gonna-!”

his thrusts are all fast and needy, yet you still feel the love emanating from him. even if he’s humping and drilling his cock relentlessly into your wet and tight hole, he still can’t get enough of you. he’s on the edge, almost crying from joy because he’s finally with you.

caelus indeed doesn’t last long and neither do you, but that doesn’t stop both of you from staying up the whole night, messing up the sheets with sweat and cum. 

DAN HENG ♡꒱

poor archivist came back stressed and lonely, needing your company (and maybe something else) to recharge his will to live. so it’s no wonder he joins you on his bed, laying down beside you, ready to snuggle up and cuddle–

but then he notices.

“you’re back!” this quiet and tired yet still joyous little squeak gets dan heng out of his haze. he’s staring at you in awe and something else, something primal but also loving, all while you cuddle up to his chest, arms splattered over his shoulders.

“y-yeah-” is all dan heng can muster up to say, too enamored by the sight of his hoodie on you, paired with those pajama shorts that always drive him insane. his arms quickly snake up around you, holding you tight against him while a sense of possessiveness and sweet need washes over the poor man. “sweetheart- is this? my hoodie?”

“i just couldn’t help myself- i missed you too bad…” with a slightly nervous chuckle, you hide your face in his chest and explain, too bashful to look at him. “you were away for- too long and i got too… um- i just couldn’t stand existing without you around.”

your lovesick gaze and the shy smile you give him melt dan heng and his heart on the spot. his arms tighten a little around you, hands soon making their way to your waist, hips, and then under the hoodie.

“i missed you too, sweetheart- so much,” dan heng starts, breathing in deeply as he tries to swallow up the needy whimpers threatening to escape his lungs. but as much as he tries he fails, the urge to kiss your cheek and lower taking over him. “so much i- so much i couldn’t stop thinking about you all the time- aeons, you’re perfect-”

his big, warm hands trailing over your skin underneath the hoodie cause shivers down your spine. aeons, how you missed his touch.

your lips soon meet, melting against each other; the sweet kisses are what you missed, though it’s not the only thing…

“fuck! sweetie, stop moving like that-” dan heng groans when you instinctively start to move your hips against his, getting worked up after weeks away from each other. “i can’t- think when you do that-! sweetie, i-”

“i need you inside, dan heng!” is what you whine out as you get up a little, enough to take off your shorts and underwear. “i missed your touch and- and you so much, baby! please, put it in-”

you don’t have to tell him twice. with his hands fumbling with his belt, he manages to unbuckle it and take off his pants just enough to free his growing hard-on.

“aeons, you’re perfect.” dan heng murmurs again, voice breathless as he touches your wet entrance, one finger pushing in; how he loves the feeling of your tight, gummy walls!

no matter what you tried, or how many toys you used, all you managed to do is just edge yourself; there’s nothing that can make you cum like dan heng does. not even your fingers. with weeks of edging, crying in sexual frustration, it’s no wonder you unravel in seconds thanks to him and his touch.

humping yourself on his finger, you take in a shaky breath, one that’s a clear indicator of your orgasm approaching.

“that’s it, sweetheart, let go…” dan heng coaxes, breathing heavily as well just to moan and whimper when you reach for his leaking cock. “fuck-! aeons, you’re amazing…”

the touches become desperate yet loving, the need for pleasure from each other increasing with each thrust and palming motion. so whipped for you, dan heng continues to please you with everything he has, just for you to love him back, showing him your feelings through those intimate touches and actions. that’s how you spend the entire night, reconnecting with each other in the deepest way possible.

CAELUS + DAN HENG ₊˚✧ﾟ.

they are so clingy every time they’re with you in your bed, so it’s no wonder you’ve been yearning for their touch throughout those long weeks. and it’s no wonder you’re snuggled up in dan heng’s blanket with only caelus’s t-shirt, fingers deep in your puffy and needy pussy. so into your frustration, desperate to feel at least a bit of pleasure they always provide you, somehow you don’t notice those two men creeping up into your room with their keys.

“well, well, well, what do we have here?”

your body jolts in surprise, the familiar and husky voice working you up further. and when you see the other man’s calloused hand gently taking your fingers out of your hole, you just can’t help but wiggle your hips a little.

“needy little thing, eager to get wrecked again…” caelus hums into your ear while dan heng rubs your folds with his fingers at an agonizing pace. “we missed you, pretty. so much. can’t wait to empty myself in you-”

whining and clenching around nothing, you start to rock your hips slightly, pulling caelus in for a deep and desperate kiss, tongues dancing in frantic choreography.

“haah-! d-dan heng!”

caelus takes the opportunity and forces his tongue into your mouth, all while your edged and wet pussy is being eaten out by dan heng. as the dark-haired man sucks gently on your clit and pushes his rough finger inside your hole, you and your mind melt immediately; that is what you’ve been craving for. paired with their greedy hands groping and squeezing the soft flesh of yours, it’s simply heaven.

“missed you so bad, princess…” caelus breathes into your ear, as he lowers his head and kisses his way through your neck to your collarbone and lower… just to leave a small, purple bite mark right between your breasts. “we’ll take it slowly, but aeons- don’t think we’ll let you out of the bed so early…”

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[liaragaming]

Emmrich and Johanna's dynamic is just fascinating to me.

I've said before that her skull banter in the lighthouse sounds like a divorcee who's bitter at the person she admires for not turning out the way she'd wanted. And I still stand by that.

Ultimately, Joanna cares about Emmrich but she resents his compassion, which she sees as a weakness.

In Emmrich's short story, Johanna thinks it's a waste of her time and effort to travel the Necropolis just to figure out what a screaming skull (that's too weak to become a demon) is going on about. But Emmrich cares and he's going to figure it out, so she goes with him because someone has to make sure he doesn't get himself killed down there.

Johanna sees compassion as a weakness but clearly hers is Emmrich. (She wouldn't be down here for just anyone.)

By the end, they discover the man whom the skull belongs to wasn't buried with his recently diseased wife, as he and his wife had wished. Johanna scoffs at such pointless fury. Emmrich makes a comment about "enduring friendships," which Johanna also scoffs at. But the two are described as walking back "in companionable silence."

Johanna acts aloof, but there's clear love between the two of them.

Also in the story, Johanna compliments Emmrich's corpse whispering. She says he "possess[es] a grand talent" and that he's successfully honed his skills. And Emmrich beams at the compliment.

It's clear she thinks he's skilled and powerful, and she admires that.

In the boss battle with Johanna, there's a bit of banter where she says she'll make sure to bury Emmrich and his friends (or his "new lover") in the same tomb. And this could just be a dig at Emmrich's compassion, but I actually believe she means this. She wouldn't want him to be a screaming skull in the afterlife.

She thinks compassion is a weakness, but she still cares about him.

I have so many thoughts about them! More below the cut for length and my inability to organize them.

In Johanna's skull banter, she says Emmrich was always dragging her out to pointless parties (Does he care about her social life? Wants her to have more friends? Or maybe he's concerned about her well-being in general and just wants to get her out of her study?) and she complains about how everyone fawned over him (jealousy? Or a waste of his time /talents? (probably the latter)).

Emmrich says they partnered on everything as students - "papers, rituals, research..." I can only imagine how charged that must have been - how exhilarating to have someone on the same wavelength to bounce ideas off of and talk through theories. And I can't help but wonder if one or both of them was sapiosexual 'cause, oh boy, would that would complicate things.

In Emmrich's personal quest, Johanna mocks Emmrich for his fear, and Emmrich says he misses having a friend who wasn't. I imagine he saw her as fearless. And like - the tender way he says it! The admiration he has to feel for her! And he almost turns her. She softens! GAH!

Her skull banter when they find a few minor points of agreement between them - like how the end of the world must be prevented and how much they hate nobility - there's a softness that comes to their words, like two friends finding equilibrium again. Like, their relieved they don't have to argue over everything! There's still some things they can agree on. I think they miss each other! I really do!

EDIT: I forgot two very important things!

Johanna calls Emmrich "Volkarin." Even though they are friends, even though he calls her "Johanna," she always refers to him by his surname. And that seems to be a clear use of purposeful distancing on her part. I don't know how else you would explain it.

In Johanna's skull banter, it's clear she thinks Emmrich is the leader of the group and not Rook. She hears about the impending end of the world and says, "Get Volkarin on it!" She sees him as capable and powerful and worthy of status. And she can't even fathom that Emmrich would act as a peon (in her eyes). He must be the leader. Of course, he is!

[mama-qwerty]

oh i had a thought btw and i wanted to share in the chat we're in but i got no access at the time i'm typing this BUT I FIGURED I COULD SAY IT TO YOU

me and my roommate after seeing the movie had a thought about what Shadow would do next after the events of the movie and the scene at the end credits of him surviving.

we imagined like...what if he just tries to wander the earth, slightly aimless but also trying to take stuff in. he had spent so long here and most of his exposure was through Maria and doing things with her. And that was it. 50 years he was locked away, and when he got out he just went straight into mission mode and even after saving the earth, it occurred to him he probably hadn't seen much of it.

and the idea of him somehow being found my sonic and the gang and them offering to house him but him declining, thinking he caused them too much trouble and it'd be best to keep his distance... even though he wouldn't know where to go and where's a safe place for him to not be bothered by gun agents or humans likely after them, him especially. Heck, Sonic even offering to show him around some places, not even Green Hills but just in places he knows off the top of his head. Lil bonding moment, nice moment between the two despite Shadow not knowing what the hell Sonic is talking about with his ramblings.

And then the final piece of Sonic realising that Shadow could maybe stay in his old cave, it served as his safe spot for so long so maybe it can serve as Shadows. Shadow even seeing Sonic's little drawing on the wall and him saying he drew it the first night he came here, just showing he did have someone he loved and lost. And my roommate even said the idea of him choosing the stay and even draw a picture of him and Maria (maybe not the doctor after all that happened but maybe so, who knows how he feels about him now).

and then just him very very possible occasionally maybe hanging out with the boys... or at least the offer is there. and getting slowly introduced and catching up on things he's missed these last 50 years...

ANYWHO I'LL STOP HAHA

I can totally see Shadow roaming for a while. Learning about the world, people watching.

He had never left the facility before, and this was all completely new to him. Maybe Maria told him about things while they were together, movies she'd seen, places she'd like to visit when she was older and could strike out on her own.

And maybe he visited them, thinking about how Maria would have loved this, or hated that, or been so excited by this other thing. It would hurt so much that he was seeing these places alone. That she hadn't had a chance to travel and see or do everything she'd dreamed of.

And maybe when it hurts too much, when he can't take the heartache of not sharing these experiences with the one person he loved, he would return to Green Hills. He wouldn't specifically seek out Sonic and crew. He'd formed an alliance with the blue hedgehog during a time of war, and he wasn't sure if that friendship extended any further than that. But he could sense the chaos energy within Sonic, and Knuckles, and from the Master Emerald. And that was comforting.

But maybe Tails has some antennas posted around town. (Or he hacked into GUN's satellites.) And maybe he gets a blip when a spike of chaos energy appears. Sonic goes to check it out and finds Shadow, sitting alone on a cliff overlooking the town.

They talk. Sonic tries to invite Shadow to the house, but he refuses. He'd injured Tom, he doesn't deserve their kindness. Sonic tries to argue, but Shadow is stubborn and makes to teleport away, when Sonic calls out to wait, he knows the perfect place Shadow can hide away when he needs someplace quiet.

And he leads Shadow to his old cave.

"It ain't the Ritz," Sonic quips, before catching himself. "Wait. Do you know about the Ritz?"

Shadow turns to him with an eyebrow raised. "The crackers?"

Sonic snickers. "Right. Nevermind. Anyway, it can get a little damp when it rains, and a little cold when it snows, and a little dark when it's night . . . but it was my home before I found my family."

Shadow stops before the crayon mural on the wall. He stares at it for a long time.

"It will do."

Sonic smiles. "Wow, high praise from the Ultimate Lifeform. Okay, well, I can bring you some food and comics and stuff to keep you entertained--"

"I don't need your handouts."

The blue hedgehog nods with a sigh. "Right. Mr. I'm So Edgy can take care of himself."

"That's right."

Sonic doesn't say anything for a moment, and when he does, his voice is softer, the joking lilt gone. "Listen, as one formerly lonely hedgehog to another, it's nice to have people care about you. Worry about you. So just . . . don't turn your back on people who want to help, okay?"

Shadow stands quietly for a moment. "Fine."

And Shadow isn't always in the cave (heaven forbid we say he lives in it, amirite SEGA?) but Sonic leaves him things anyway. Cans of food, books he thinks Shadow would like, lots of blankets.

And maybe Sonic tells the family about Shadow taking shelter in his old cave, and the next time Shadow reappears there, it's better weather sealed and more comfortable and homey. The opening is covered with an actual door, one that keeps animals and rain out.

And maybe there's a note left. One that tells Shadow they don't blame him for what he did to Tom. They understand he was stressed and confused and hurting. They forgive him. And their home is always open for him, if he were hurt, or hungry, or just wanted some company.

And maybe, one night, when the family is sitting down for supper, a flash of light appears in the backyard. Ozzy runs to the door, barking at the sudden intruder in his territory, Knuckles close behind.

And there in the middle of the yard, stands Shadow. Looking very uncomfortable. Looking like he's second guessing his presence. Looking like he's just about to teleport away.

The family stands in the doorway, looking out at the black and red hedgehog. Without a word, they turn and head back to the supper table, but leave the kitchen door open.

The choice is his. Join them. Or leave.

He stands there for a long few moments, watching as they sit down, dishing out the food. Maddie moves to the cabinet and brings another plate to the table, placing it between her and Sonic. Silverware joins it. And a glass of water.

Shadow is frozen.

He takes a step forward. And another.

And takes his place at the table.

He doesn't move in with the Wachowskis. He's not there all the time. But they always make sure to have plenty of food to go around if he chose to join them.

There's always a place at their table for a lonely hedgehog.

[foxglovegames]

DEV LOG: 2024 Recap

Helloooo everyone!

This year genuinely flew past us. As a studio, we had our ups-and-many-downs, but we're feeling more positive going into 2025. Let's start with what we got done this year before moving onto our plans for the future! :)

⭐Released Trouble Comes Twice: Bonus Stories!

Feels like we released this ages ago, but it hasn't even been a year yet! Back in April, we released the first (and only) public DLC for Trouble Comes Twice. For us, Bonus Stories was a satisfying goodbye to these characters after spending years with them; we hope that players who decided to give the DLC a chance feel the same.

It'll always be a bit bittersweet moving on from a project you've worked on for so long and dedicated so much towards. There's always going to be what-ifs, but we're mostly just proud of what we did achieve and kind of relieved we made it to the finish line haha. If you're interested in reading more about our experience working on Trouble Comes Twice and what we learned, do check out this post mortem we wrote! We hope it offers some insight for players who might be curious and other vn devs who'd like another dev's take.

⭐A tumultuous start for our next visual novel Burn the Midnight Oil

Since the end of 2023, we've worked on and off on our next visual novel Burn the Midnight Oil. The plan was to launch a Kickstarter campaign and demo before the end of 2024 - since it's now Dec and that never happened, you can imagine things did not go as planned ahah... Unfortunately, we experienced several setbacks, one of the biggest being that our lead artist had to leave the project some months ago due to health issues.

It took us a minute to find the right person to step in and take over the character art, but we recently welcomed a new lead artist whom we're incredibly excited to be working with!

So, where does the project stand right now?

Our new character artist is chipping away at the sprites and CGs for the game, which are the main assets we're still missing to finish the demo.

Script is written, edited and coded in

BGs are completed and the UI is close to completed

We're planning to tackle the soundtrack in the coming months, but our composer BellKallengar has already finished an amazing main menu theme! We can't wait for you to hear it.

For our own sanity and the expectations of our players, we're not making any promises or guesses on when you can expect the demo, Kickstarter, or official announcement until we know for certain. The only thing we can confidently confirm is that it's coming in 2025 (unless we're struck by the worst bad luck ever).

We're going to resume regular monthly updates when the game has been announced, but until then, we're sticking o quarterly updates instead so the next one would be in March. (Unless we manage to announce the game before that! A dev can dream.)

⭐PLANS FOR 2025

There's only one concrete plan - officially announcing Burn the Midnight Oil, releasing the Kickstarter demo, and launching our crowdfunding campaign! Melli and I already finished the demo script earlier this year, so we've been working on outlining (and writing) the routes for the full game. We hope to make as much progress as possible on that before the Kickstarter launches. Hopefully, that should save us a lot of time in the long run.

We hope everyone's having a fantastic holiday season! See you all in the new year! 🥂

[rustedleopard]

(gaymeatcore) how aware do you think other characters were of Chujins treatment of his family? like ceroba sort of covers it up but do you think Starlo for example could tell him hiding so much was bothering her? That she felt a bit unloved? I think if he did he'd be so hyped for her if they divorced like he doesn't even mind if he's not the one who gets to be her new partner so long as she gets someone who loves her like she deserves. I just want to see her get what she deserved why would he do all that why did he not trust and adore her....Her unhealthy devotion is just so sad because she gets barely anything in return. like sure he gives her some stuff (most of it material) but he can't even tell her he loves her on his deathbed....

You may not like my answer, but I'd say that others aren't very aware of how Chujin treats his family.

The thing is, not even Ceroba is aware of how taken advantage of she is. She still follows through with Chujin's plan despite how much she personally doesn't want to go through with it/the amount of stress it's added onto her life. She still sees him as flawless and perfect despite all the evidence otherwise. She was wholly content with the life that she made for herself; she CHOSE to become a housewife and the breadwinner of the family so Chujin can keep doing the things that he wanted to. So it's really hard to tell how bad the familial situation is if the person/people most affected by it aren't even aware of how bad it is. Blind admiration and devotion is one hell of a drug.

The closest I can see Ceroba comes to realizing how bad her situation is (in a canon-conforming way) is her coming home from a very bad shift at Cafe Dune; it's one of those days where your feet hurt and you're in a bad mood and once you lay down, you know you won't want to get back up again, and as she's changing out her work clothes she thinks to herself "I miss when Chujin was working at the Steamworks and I didn't have to do all this." But then Kanako asks what's for dinner or Chujin comes home or something happens and she has to pull herself together because her family needs her and Chujin is doing good things for the Underground, she shouldn't complain. She's strong, she's independent, she's mature, she's capable, she's an adult. She can handle it! So if Ceroba isn't all that aware, I can't see others being aware either.

Plus, the Ketsukanes are already pretty private people: their estate is locked behind an ornate gate, Chujin has his whole "hiding my basement study/SOUL experiments/Axis/the reason why I got fired from the Steamworks from my wife" thing going on, nobody else knows about Kanako's Falling Down besides Starlo and the Feisty Four (though I imagine what happened was that Ceroba told Starlo and Starlo told the Feisty Four instead of her telling all of them at once, and even then none of them knew the specifics), nobody knew about the plans that Ceroba had for Clover until the Five were cleaning out her house. And I can go on. The Ketsukanes have a good reputation among the Dunes residents, you can most directly see that with the rock-monster in Oasis Valley that stands next to the oasis after Clover explores their estate. They call the Ketsukanes something along the lines of "Good folks." So I can't see others being all that aware of the dynamic that's happening behind closed doors.

But let's hone in on a few key characters:

Martlet never even saw Chujin's house, so she wouldn't know much about what's going on in her mentor's domestic life. She calls Ceroba an acquaintance, which means they've likely only really met each other a handful of times. Martlet really admires/looks up to Chujin and sees him as a guiding figure in her life and that image only sours when she sees the tapes. If she knew what his home life was like and all the specifics, that would've changed her perspective on him a lot sooner.

Dina doesn't even know that Kanako fell down, so she wouldn't know anything too personal about Ceroba's life. Chujin also only came by Dina's Saloon once, and that was when he came to drink because he "saw a ghost" so she doesn't know him all that well either.

As I stated earlier with the Feisty Four, I feel like the only reason why they knew that Kanako fell down was because Starlo broke the news to them. They are entitled to know why Ceroba is bunking with them for weeks on end all of a sudden but I can't see Ceroba telling them because she isn't part of the posse. Starlo also probably roped them into helping cheer her up by going along with more of his antics (to a limit, of course).

And Starlo. I don't see Starlo knowing what exactly is happening. He's not going to go snooping around into her life and her circumstances for a myriad of reasons: He is busy running the Wild East. Ceroba seems content with her life so why go looking into her business if everything looks fine on the surface? Whether he got over his feelings or not, it's still weird to look into his (former?) crush's love life. He's the sort to need things spelled out more directly in order to understand what's going on. And I don't think he understands how deeply and unhealthily her devotion to Chujin runs. Sure, he might find it a bit odd that Ceroba is working and taking care of the house and Kanako, but he also knows Ceroba wouldn't take shit from other people. So if she's not complaining about her circumstances then this must be something that she and Chujin worked out together. It's not his business. The least he can do for her is let her unwind whenever she swings by the Wild East and entertain Kanako so she can get a break from what he would probably see as the usual stresses of motherhood (this likely helped Ceroba far more than she realizes). Also, Starlo does have some respect for Chujin despite not liking him as a person. In post-Pacifist, when Ceroba comes out with what happened and what Chujin put her up to, I can see Starlo admonishing himself for not realizing how bad their relationship was sooner and would lose that respect for Chujin (even if Ceroba is still at a point where she sees Chujin as perfect). Hindsight is 20/20 after all.

Now, if Ceroba started to realize how much her life sucks and the cracks showed earlier, of course he'd pull her aside and try to sort out what's going on and see if he can help. He'd support her in any path that she chooses for herself, whether it be couple's counseling (massive doubt) or divorce (yeah, that's what would happen). Starlo isn't a petty person and respects Ceroba so when that divorce inevitably happens, he might be like "You lost your chance with a wonderful person" to Chujin, not "Ha, you lost your wife!!! Lmao, I win!!!" Even if Ceroba chooses to get into a relationship with someone else or doesn't choose anyone at all, what matters most to Starlo is that she's happy.

It's fortunate for Cerojin that Chujin died when he did because if he were still alive, at some point the fuse on the powder keg that was their relationship would've reached its end, and when that happened their relationship would've blown up with the messiest fallout. To everybody else (except those in the know), it would've looked like the lovely and happy couple of Oasis Valley spontaneously fell apart in a matter of days/weeks.

[snailchimera]

There's this recurring theme that you see laid out the most explicitly with Cobigail but it's there for every god, where the gods of the grove are adored but isolated. It's strongly implied that either they can't leave the god realms or it's at least really difficult to do so! They're functionally housebound! And only the godpoke actually goes in and talks to them directly! So of course for the older ones, who don't have anything to prove but are starving for basic human companionship, King's approach works. And it works wonders, as evidenced by how quickly gods and humans alike put their faith in King, and especially how Miss Mitternacht talks about King saving the day/being the glue that keeps the gods from completely falling apart/being necessary to save the world! It probably seems almost literally miraculous, in much the same way and for much the same reasons that watering a thirsty plant and watching it perk up in real time seems miraculous. Why would she take a different approach with Inspekta? Even if she realized she'd misstepped, would she even be able to change tactics with Inspekta, or would that interaction create a permanent hostile label in Inspekta's brain? Was there even a better option at the time? Inspekta also needed someone to treat him like a person, after all; he just didn't think that was what he needed, and it certainly wasn't what he wanted.

There's a line Robart/Peeps has about Inspekta in the Cove, where he says Inspekta as a mortal was always working so hard to help people, and he "seemed desperate". We see plenty to reinforce that elsewhere. Inspekta has to be perfect because anything less than perfection is worthless. Of course he's going to see King as a threat when she's not only being talked about in much the same glowing terms people used to talk about him, with skills that overlap with his domain (communication and bringing people together are after all pretty key parts of leadership), but approaching him in this way that implies he's not perfect. Acknowledging that he has problems is like touching a hot stove, and blind adoration feels good and safe and almost fills the hole so at this point it's the only thing he easily accepts. But how the hell was King supposed to know that? And she's still, again, a person herself, not an emotional truths dispenser. When the situation gets that fucked, seemingly out of nowhere, who could respond with the perfect rational magical code phrase that instantly defuses it?

And at the Spire, look how calm she stays, how she keeps reaching out! How reassuring she is when he stops being a threat! Can you imagine going through what she just went through and still doing that? We heard how scared and sad she was. For fuck's sake, on top of everything else Inspekta decided the correct response to King halfway getting through to him was to crush her under a pile of junk. She could have died right there. Not to mention the other gods are all her friends, or in Mitternacht's case, her partner, and they're all in danger too. King is so devoted to deescalation, so aware of the importance of this role she's taken on. She's trying so hard. She cares so much. And she jumps into it the instant Inspekta shows up. She was prepared. How much time do you think she spent replaying her own kidnapping in her head, trying to figure out what she could have done differently?

I have so many feelings about King. I think maybe she also needs someone to talk to, who won't expect her to be perfect.

very overjoyed to wake up to my psychic blast being effective

[spotaus]

Hi guys, this is usually what a doodle page ends up looking like <3 (oh, and @ancha-aus thought you might like this! Not writing but certainly fuel to my fire lol-)

This one is New Age filled!!! (Close-ups abd Lore beneath the cut!)

1) Night and Cross!

Night is actually very clingy once he's a teen. He doesn't usually realize it, but around the castle he'll snake to be closer to his Knights so long as there's no one he needs to keep his composure infront of is nearby. Cross is the one who's not used to physical touch (when it's not Ink ofc) so Night in his personal bubble makes his heart melt but also scares tf out of him <3

2) Error and Night's Meeting!

Error was carrying his whole life on his back and trying not to get arrested for unintentional property damage at this point, so when he saw the chance to get back at his brother and prove he was strong enough? Yeah, he got that on chance instantly. And was VERY smug when Nightmare chose him. (Also, Error is wearing gloves, so less Haphephobia)

3) Dream and Blue designs!

I think these are good tentative designs! Dream probably has a more regal fit, but he likes to play up that rugged exile look- He's inspired by Archers, while Blue takes on that classic Knightly-vibe. Their equipment is mostly stolen from Night's troops or brought with them from Blue's home kingdom.

Also, Dream is approx Killer's height at this point, shorter than Cross and *much* shorter than Apple!Nightmare. (Hc that Skeletons tend to be tinier in stature thanks to weird monster beauty standards. Horror and Geno's fam are outliers.)

4) Horror and Dust designs!

Horror is naturally a very *large* monster. He's very malnourished when Nightmare meets him, but by the time he's a Knight Nightmare has made sure that's no longer the case. He actually loves comfy, simple clothes, but to play up the whole 'strong mysterious' bit he wears a more barbaric Knight's garb. He doesn't mind acting scary, it's more fun that way :]. Dust is very very small, and envies horror sometimes for his size, but his tiny stature let's him control his body and move a lot quicker. He's very much based on a rogue, and usually covers the lower part of his face w/ a black cloth, and the upper part w/ his hood or mask. Dust only removes both to bathe, eat, or relax in a safe location. (Ignore that I can't draw the stupid gaster blaster lmao-)

These last two were space-fillers, but Cross and his Borzoi (Windmill, otherwise known as Milly (Killer named her-)) and really bad first wips of Ccino! I think Ccino was a chubby, happy toddler, but lost a lot of 'weight' (bone mass? Magic?) due to stress and pressure and bad eating habits. So it isn't until a while after the Coronation that he starts to relax abd feel safe enough to eat normal meals (Nightmare used to guilt him into eating snacks together, but as his boss (and younger brother) he can encourage it more often). By the time Killer shows he's still not quite healthy, but he's better. As more weight is lifted off his shoulders, the better he is. (That 'beauty' most people saw was a more stereotypical slimness, but Killer never stopped seeing Ccino as beautiful-) I think he never looked traditionally underweight, so no one noticed, and it was only much later that Night processed it. (And maybe it's why Dream hardly recognized him later on-)

[camellcat]

I feel fucking crazy!!!!!!!!!!

(thinking about the way he convinced her he was still himself. his smile when she said his name. the way he said hello. the way he simply looked at her. how he had to act like everything was normal because he was so scared she was gonna leave him. the hurt when she asked him to change back, just exacerbating that fear even more. him trying to play it off as if he's totally fine with sending her home even though it's absolutely and utterly the last thing he'd ever want to do. his pride at finally getting her to smile, only to be immediately dashed when she snapped at him. the way he made the worst impression after that and scared the life out of her.

oh, just everything, all of it.)

[laianely]

This song was suggested by @scleroticstatue. Thank you very much! It's so wonderful and I literally couldn't cut it into pieces. So this time we have not-TikTok format. Maybe later I'll make short version too.

[sysig]

Really digging out the old OCs now; Pan-na, Pilok, Azalea, squirrel boys Will and Damien, and Cupid and Venus <3 (Patreon)

[lisbonsteresa]

you ever just

[girlivealwaysbean]

it would feel so nice to work towards a career that has meaningful impact and makes millions of people happy

[shelli-gator]

James missed (his Driver) very much. But he missed Edward more.❤️💙

[blubberingblobmonster]

WOAH WOAH WOAH WOAH WOAH

WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK

NEO POLITAN YOU ARE ONE CRAZY BITCH AND I LOVE YOU FOR IT

AND THE CURIOUS CAT OMFG