#I'll call this one a cheat

[sunsetforestzone]

whats better than this. guys being dudes

[gachadarklightoficial]

Not gonna lie, I wish I could do more AU’s of them, but it's so exhausting to do the same thing for every one (the whole gang are made by 27 people, including the “extras”. There are so many of them 😭😭😭😭). At least they're here and I can finally post this. In order:

The Owl House Dimension;

Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug and Chat Noir, Bull Miraculous (his name is Blue Bull, 'cause I'm not good with names 😀);

Miraculous: Tiger Miraculous Swap (he doesn't have a hero name, and his miraculous is switched up with someone else);

Inside Out (He's Embarrassment);

Opposite Gender (the name's Viviane);

Pony Town (I also wanted to make a My Little Pony series with the Gacha Gang, but I don't know anymore. Let me know if you want these too).

Now that Vincent is here, he'll probably just appear in the MLB series. So here is the question:

First (Previous) | Next

[jettison-my-gift]

.

[beck-a-leck]

Rules: Make a 24 hour poll with the names of your WIPs, let it run, then write one sentence (or) work for 10 minutes for every vote the winner receives.

Tagged by/Stolen from @thychesterss because it sounded like a ton of fun and I want to outsource my decision making!

Gonna go less Specific WIP Names, and more vague description of what happens next in the WIP just for funsies. So...

[birinboom]

Dunno if it's because I'm so knee-deep in my Umemiya fascination (and seriously, my mind is a three-ring circus and Ume is currently the biggest attraction. I can hear the barrel organ in my sleep!) but I feel like this song fits him so well!

🎶Swimming in the deep blue Got me thinking 'bout you I'm just tryna dive right in Wanna spend tonight like The last night of our lives Chasing all the love we can

I've been chasing so long Every right that feels wrong Rather be with you instead There's something 'bout it right here Got me seeing so clear Rainbow colored skies ahead

And now oh I'm in a sea of lights And all that I can see is you And now I'm dying to feel alive So baby, let's try something new

Let's make tonight the weekend I don't wanna wait I don't wanna wait I don't wanna wait Got no reason not to celebrate Baby, I just don't wanna wait🎶

Ume please, replace my bad memories of this song with your happy face!

[atwas-meme-ing]

Ok, ok, he's been vindicated.

I still don't like him, something about him just rubs me the wrong way. But I can't say much against him now.

[orchideae]

(We've all seen the first one, but the source for the second one from the official artist is here)

Yelan. Yelan, Madame Yelan, what on earth is this outfit. Granted, please don't get me wrong, I loved and was enthralled when I first caught a glimpse of her (also any glimpse of Yelan thrills me) in it, but geez. And yet, they're so consistent with her design;

— The single-sleeved jacket is a brilliant little nod to her mantle but making it something utterly hers within something that is an AU. No mystical beasts or Tsaritsa here! — The straps near her neck are a very different, but quite nice, summer-like rendition to Hoyo's consistent choice for Yelan of a halter/high neck (even the Pizza Hut ad had her in a turtleneck). A lower neckline is something that they actively seem to avoid for her so far. — The amount of see-through fabric is simply a call-back to her default outfit, but rather than spots of it left and right, it's her full-midriff and leg. It fits, it's nothing new. And if anything, funnily enough, I'd seen numerous artworks pop up of Yelan in swimming attire, and all of the designs felt a little off. I don't actually envision her in a bikini like many draw her, but instead, something like what you see here from her neck, to the midriff to the hips. Much more fitting in my opinion, actually, so I like seeing that concept in an outfit in circumstances where you'd expect a lot of summer influence. — And a detail that makes me laugh: the hand that has the white glove in her canonical outfit is also white here, and same with the black one. Also, the bracelet. God, I love consistency even if it seems trivial. But nothing's ever trivial to me guys, you know this.

All in all, thirst trap, sure, but also, good decisions were made.

[thenerdcommander]

Bruhhhhhh I have a Sim that's had 3 pairs of triplets in a row, all boys, all werewolves, and aside from having different hair styles/clothes and slightly different skin tones, their faces look like the game just decided that only one parent had genes that matter

[imjustconfuseddd]

.

[snowsinterlude]

need someone older.

(teacher!coriolanus × student!reader.)

summary: a teacher can do a lot in private lessons.

c.w: reader is 19 for repeating a year, age gap (coryo's 29), fingering, tummy bulge, heavy smut, edging (f. recieving), overstimulation, stuffed panties, mild public sex, petnames (coryo calls reader bunny, pet, good girl.), reader thinks coryo is married so . cheating implications, marriage proposal

being a dumb girl was something you tried your best to do ever since you repeated the first year of high school, watching all your friends graduating before you was something you weren't proud about- not for them, but for you. you were supposed to be by their side.

thankfully, you had your professor, coriolanus snow. god. he was the only reason for you to pay attention to class (or at least try to), you were hungry for his approval. for you to be called a "good girl", and be said that you've done well in your tests? yeah, you were willing to do anything for that.

when he offered you private classes, you said yeah without even thinking much. you needed to learn, and spending more time with him was something you craved for. the ring on his finger? fuck it. you wanted it. you deserved it. more than his wife – if he had one.

you've been day dreaming about it constantly, eyes always searching for his on every class you had with him, and he would keep that smile painted on his face, not wanting anyone to think you were the reason for him to be smiling, even if you were, the didn't need to know about it.

"bunny," he voiced, leaning on your desk and taking advantage of the fact that you both were on the library, every student on the school had gone home and the teachers had gathered to go to a nearby bar. "stop looking at my dick now, will we?" he said, chuckling at you.

"huh?" you asked, finally waking to your reality.

"you need to learn that if you don't want to repeat a grade again." he said, sitting by your side, his hand holding your thigh. "you don't want to repeat now, do you?" you shaked your head negatively, and he loved seeing you like that, shy as a kitten even if you usually had his dick on your mouth when that used to happen. "c'mon, don't look at me like that. we have to put these things on your brain if you want to graduate already." he said.

his fingers slowly travelled all the way up on your panties, finding a small damp on the fabric, he looked at you with his usual smirk, his pupils blown already from everything he was about to do to you.

and now you looked like a mess. hands gripping on the library desk as your legs trembled with the aftermath of every time you almost came. you counted six till now, crying from how good it felt having him behind you, his fingers thrusting lewdly into your cunt.

"c-coryo- t-teacher, please. please stop it, i have to cum- i can't hold it in anymore!" you begged, clenching as his fingers rubbed deliciously on your clit after thrusting so many times inside you.

"well, it's not my fault, pet. you're the one getting your questions wrong." he said, pulling his dick to tease the core of your pussy, your cries only making him feel and making his ego bigger. "tell me, baby, how do you want it?"

"q-quick, pleease! if it get slower i-i think i'll die!" you said, legs spread as your skirt revealed a small part of your ass.

"oh, c'mon, i'm sure you can take it, baby" he purred in your ear, the tip of his cock teasing your pussy and slapping your clit slightly, making your body jolt slightly. you bend over, your elbows being now your main support at that table.

"please, teacher..!" you begged. but he didn’t even bat an eye to your cries, slowly sliding his dick inside you, and fuck, you both fucked on wednesday, how come he always seems to stretch you up so good? the pace he choose to torture you with was so slow, making sure you felt every inch of his dick inside you, stretching you, making you his. "please, don't do that to me. j-just ask something easier!" you cried.

"easier? okay... let's see" his hips bucked slowly into yours, your pussy gushing around him as if your own body needed that- as if he was the hair you breathed for. "what's your age, babe?" he asked, a playful tone being cast as his free hand massaged your boob, pinching on your nipple and freeing both your boobs from it's cage.

"n-nineteen." you said, and he laughed again as he said: "good girl, you're right.", his hips giving you a powerful thrust that made you cum with only that, making you cry from your own humiliation.

"ah, bunny, don't tell me you came already only with that." he said, joking with your face as you cried.

"i'm sorry- too good. i-it was too deep." he laughed, pulling back and thrusting deeper again, this time, you made sure not to cum again, edging yourself as he changed your position to put your leg over his broad shoulder, his dick making a bulge appear at your tummy. he loved that view- much more than he loved you.

"look at you, taking me so well. how does it feel, baby? use one of the words we learned at the literature class," he grunted your tightness coating his dick with your own juices, "use them, even if it's just two, and i'll let you cum."

"tortuous," you begin, crying from how good it felt, from how dumb you were getting. "spiralling, it's twirling my insides!" you cried. and he smilled, kissing and licking your tears before placing the most gentle kiss on your lips, pouding faster into you as you closed your eyes shut, moaning and grunting from all the pleasure- and yet you tried your best to avoid moaning only to hear his moans and the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh.

"good girl." he said, his hands holding your hips as he fucked you. it felt truly out of your world experience. his phone ringed just at the right moment he hit your cervix. "t-teacher, your phone- it can be your wife." you said, earning a frown from him as he turned the phone off.

"wife? baby, i'm single." he said, chuckling at you. "you've been walking around school with my cum stuffed in your panties even thought you thought i was married?" he pounded into you with a more quicken pace. "god, what a dirty girl you are. fucking around with married teachers." he teased you.

you felt a heat on your cheeks that you never felt before. god, how much would you end up humiliating yourself? "b-but, fuck! y-your ring-"

he showed you the ring. taking it off his finger with his mouth and sticking his tongue to you, an invitation for you to take the ring.

"keep it." he said once you took the ring

"but- s-sir, i-"

"mm, bunny, i'm a faithful man." he said. "and right now, i'm faithful to you." he said. you squirmed deliciously at the feeling of his cock filling you up again, his tip on your cervix as you came again, and soon enough, he came too.

he helped you get dressed into your panties again and straightned your clothes, a cast kiss on your lips before he smiled sweetly at you, putting the ring on your middle finger.

"i hope you know what that means."

"i-i do." you said, for both questions heavily implied in that context.

"great. then make sure to graduate, bunny." he smiled. "i'm sure the honeymoon will be great."

[sleepyhoon]

bang bang, kiss kiss. - p.js

pairing. boss!jay x employee!reader genre. age gap, porn w some plot, long drabble warnings. swearing, infidelity (jay cheating on his wife), homewrecker!yn (sorry), age gap (reader is 21 jay is 31), smut [ office sex, impregnation kink, creampie, oral (f. receiving), degradation, pussy slapping, manhandling, spit ]

a/n. attempt number 2 of trying to make yn a bitch ahaha anyways enjoy whats been plaguing my mind the past few nights. not proofread so pls disregard any typos haha

Park Jongseong's wife had a lot of nerve.

Calling the workplace and disrupting Mr. Park with nonsense you cant even begin to comprehend. He's far too good for her, adhering to her every beck and call, missing out on detrimental meetings and interviews with high-profile clients just to tend to his dumbass wife.

God, you hated her.

As Jongseong's personal secretary, it was your responsibility to keep his business in order, and most importantly, keep him stress-free; which is why you were more than happy to suggest he keep his cell phone off and locked away in your desk for the day, to ward off any unnecessary distractions.

"Always looking out for me, huh?" Jongseong asks, leaning against your desk with a smirk as he willingly hands you his locked iPhone.

"Always," you repeat, not breaking eye contact as you drop the phone into your drawer and slam it shut.

"And what if my wife needs to reach me?"

Your expression goes stoic, and a little bit annoyed. Jongseong knows you hated whenever he brought up his wife in any context, even a hypothetical one.

"She knows your e-mail address," you respond through gritted teeth, your eyes panning over to the empty excel sheet on your desktop.

Jongseong nods, amused and slightly aroused at the distaste you have for his wife. It's fucked up, he knows it is, but he just can't help it. The jealousy in your eyes at the mere mention of his wife was enough to drive him crazy. He loves that you hate her, and how envious you were of her; so desperate to be his wife instead.

"I suppose that's true; but if she calls, just forward her over to me, yeah?"

You don't respond, blatantly ignoring him as you open a new Google tab on your desktop and search 'avg cost of divorce south korea'.

Jongseong leans over, eyes lighting up in a mixture of surprise and amusement as he peeks at your screen, "You're funny, YN," he says, biting back a laugh.

"I'm not joking."

"I know," he stands, shoving his hands into his pockets, "that's the best part. I'll ping you if I need anything."

You nod, chin resting in the palm of your head as you continue to stare at your computer. The results of your Google search were anticlimactic, not one direct answer on the average cost of divorce. Just your luck.

Jongseong discretely glances around the office, making sure all other employees were occupied with their own tasks before leaning down and tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, the sudden action causing you to stare up at him wide-eyed and raise a confused brow at him.

"And you let me know if you need anything, okay? Anything at all." He says, voice dropping to barely above a whisper.

Music to your ears, really, having Jongseong at your disposal while his own wife would have to fight tooth and nail to even speak to him today. It's a dream come true.

You clear your throat, adjusting your glasses as you straighten your posture, "Okay."

Jongseong smiles down at you one last time before turning on his heels and making his way down the hall and into his office.

A few minutes have gone by when you receive a message.

Jongseong Park [ 10:20 am ] : Around 1-5M KRW, higher if there are any court battles involved.

You [ 10:20 am ] : noted :)

Of course she'd show up to his workplace, so fucking relentless.

You can't really blame her, not being able to call or text Jongseong all day only to have his personal secretary dodge any calls made to the office surely would drive you crazy. Still, she has a lot of nerve.

"Sir, your wife is here," you grit into the phone, glaring daggers at said wife, Park Yunjin, as she scrolls on her phone.

"Shit, should've known," he sighs, "I'll be out in a few, just finishing something up."

You don't bother saying goodbye, slamming the phone down so hard that it startles Yunjin and a few of your coworkers. "He'll be out shortly."

Yunjin smiles, "Thank you, I got kinda worried when I wasn't able to get in touch with him, you know?"

Not interested in making small-talk with Yunjin, your responses to her are limited to hums and polite nods, fighting the urge to slam your head on your desk while ripping your hair out.

After what feels like an eternity, Jongseong finally emerges from his office and calls out for Yunjin, holding back a smile at the sight of the two of you being in the same vicinity.

Yunjin turns, cocking her head to the side with an annoyed look on her face, "Are you busy?"

Jongseong shakes his head, "Not at the moment, come in," he says, pushing his office door wide enough for her to enter.

Adjusting the purse on her arm, Yunjin makes her way down the hall and into the office, glancing at you over her shoulder one last time as she does so. She's suspicious of you, that much was obvious. You're much younger than her, obviously attractive, and the only other person who spends as much time with Jongseong as she does. You know him like the back of your hand, while she could barely get her husband to open up to her.

She has every right to be suspicious, though, considering you are fucking her husband behind her back.

Thirty minutes have passed when Yunjin finally exits his office, her expression unreadable as she shuts the door behind her, strutting out of the office without so much as a glance in your general direction.

Your eyes follow her every movement, staring so intently that you nearly miss the newest messages from Jongseong.

Jongseong Park [ 3:54 pm ] : Are you able to stay a little longer tonight? Need your help with some stuff.

Jongseong Park [ 3:55 pm ] : Dinner on me as an apology for the inconvenience

You [ 3:58 pm ] : of course, whatever u need :)

You don’t think much of it when you slip into Jongseong’s office later that evening.

He doesn’t bring up the incident with his wife and neither do you, opting to engage in light, easygoing topics as you help your boss complete his workload. It wasn’t much besides transferring over data into excel and responding to some emails, surely not enough work that required staying after hours, but Jongseong’s promise of a free dinner was enough to intrigue you.

And the fact that you’d be spending time alone with him, of course, free of your coworker’s wandering eyes and his wife’s disruptive behavior.

Your remaining coworkers had finally left for the evening, stopping by Jongseong’s office to briefly wish the two of you a good night and a safe trip home.

It’s around seven p.m. when you’re finally finishing up the excel sheet, your tired eyes carefully inspecting each and every corner of the screen, double-checking for any minor errors.

“Almost done?” Jongseong asks, swiveling in his office chair to face you.

You nod, offering him your laptop, “Think so, just need you to look it over.”

Taking the laptop from your hands, Jongseong looks over the screen for half a second before shutting it and handing it back to you. “Looks good to me. Get on the desk.”

You pause, mouth falling open as Jongseong begins to loosen to tie, “Wait, can I expl-”

He crosses the short distance between your seat and his, snatching the laptop from your grip as he forces you to stand, “No more excuses.”

Tossing the MacBook onto your now empty chair, Jongseong hoists you up on his desk, his rough, calloused hands bunching up your skirt until it’s settled around your waist. He doesn’t even give you time to prepare, sliding your thong down and off your legs with a quick yank of his hand.

He lowers himself before you, knees hitting the carpet as he becomes eye level with your cunt. Jongseong gathers a wad of saliva in his mouth, staring straight at you through hooded eyes as he spits directly on your pussy.

You shiver, swearing under your breath as he rubs the saliva onto your folds, “Think you’re so fucking funny, huh? Trying to upset my wife.”

Ugh, there he goes again talking about his stupid fucking wife.

“She’s a distraction, you got so much done today without her bitching in your ear.” You plead, gripping onto Jongseong’s desk with your eyes squeezed shut as he slips a thick finger into your hole.

It’s true, Jongseong had managed to get a lot more work done today than usual now that his wife wasn’t distracting him. Still, he can’t admit that, your ego was already big enough as it is. He’s sure if he inflated it any further your head would explode.

He teases a second finger at your entrance, amused at how easily it slides in from his wet you’ve gotten; it hadn’t even been five minutes and his hand is practically drenched because of you. “Doesn’t matter, you should’ve listened when I said to forward her calls. She already doesn’t like you and you just made it worse.”

Yunjin seeing you as a potential threat had you over the moon, a wicked grin on your face that only pissed Jongseong off further.

His fingers thrust in and out of you at a pace he’s never used before; he’s rough, flustered, and downright mad. His eyes narrow up at you, pulling his fingers out of you entirely to deliver a harsh smack on your clit.

Your body jolts, the sting of the slap sending an unfamiliar, yet arousing, shockwave throughout your body. You’re suddenly grateful that all the other employees have gone home for the evening, because the loud miss that escapes your lips surely would’ve had them running to HR.

Jongseong doesn’t even give you time to recover or process what’s happening, a smug look on his face now that he’s successfully wiped the cocky smirk off of yours. He leans forward, plump lips wrapping around your already swollen clit, swirling his tongue around it as he tugs it into his mouth.

He spits again, using his tongue to mix his saliva with your wetness to make a mess of your cunt. ”That’s funny to you? That you just made shit worse?”

You nod eagerly, another painful slap being delivered to your cunt as a result. You jolt again, tears welling up in your eyes as your back arches off his desk. He rotates between aggressively lapping at your clit, thrusting a third finger into your sopping hole, and delivering more slaps to your cunt, each smack harder than the last, leaving your entire body quivering.

By the seventh slap, the knot in your belly finally snaps, a loud slew of sweats falling from your lips as you come on the palm of Jongseong’s hand.

He doesn’t even give you the chance to catch your breath, standing as he shoves various paperwork and other miscellaneous items off his desk before forcing you on your back.

“I hope it was fucking worth it,” he grumbles, undoing his belt and zipper.

You nod, “It was.”

“Shut the fuck up.” He says, punctuating his sentence with another smack to your cunt. Your body is still spasming from your orgasm, the aching sensation between your thighs only adding to the overstimulation.

He pulls down his trousers and boxers in a swift movement, fully-hardened cock smacking straight against his abdomen. He pumps himself a few times before aligning his tip against your entrance, not giving you any time to prepare or adjust to his size before plummeting himself into you with a harsh thrust.

You cry out Jongseong’s name, back arching off his desk as you reach to hold onto his shoulders. His fingers move to your clit, rubbing harsh circles as he picks up his already fast and aggressive pace.

He’s relentless, fucking into you as if you were his own personal pocket pussy. There’s no doubt Yunjin would let him do this shit to her.

He takes your hand, pressing it down on your own abdomen as he pushes himself inside of you. Even from the outside you can feel his cock bulging into you. “You feel me right there?” He asks, breathless.

You nod wordlessly, a tear trickling from your eye as you do so. Jongseong leans down, unintentionally pressing himself further into you as he kisses the tear away, “You okay?”

You nod again, cupping Jongseong’s face with your hands before bringing him down to kiss you. It’s soft and sensual, making your heart rate increase as he tilts his head to allow himself further into your mouth.

Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling his body closer and furthering his cock deeper into your pussy. He swears under his breath, pulling away to press open-mouth, wet kisses on your neck and cheek. He stills for a moment, enjoying the feeling of your warmth wrapping around him as he’s peppering kisses across your collarbone.

He grabs your hand, interlocking your fingers together before thrusting into you again. He starts off slow this time, seemingly relishing in the feeling of your cum coating his cock.

He doesn’t let up after that, his thrusts becoming much harsher than what you expected, so rough that you’re nervous he may break the wooden desk supporting both of your weight.

“Fuck,” he groans, tip of his cock practically slamming into your g-spot, “gonna cum.”

“Please,” you beg, eyes fluttering shut as your second orgasm approaches.

Jongseong opens his eyes, taking note of your smudged makeup and how fucked-out you look. “Want me to cum inside you, huh? Fill you up until you’re nice and pregnant with my baby?”

You nod embarrassingly because you do want that, to be able to carry Jongseong ‘s child, clinging to his side to let everyone know it was him that did this to you.

He shakes his head with a chuckle, “Fucking knew it.”

That exchange seems to be enough to drive him to his orgasm, because a few seconds later he’s spilling himself inside of you, thick, white ropes of cum coating your insides. It’s the most he’s ever came, chest heaving with exhaustion as he catches his breath.

You’re only a few seconds behind him, ironically calling out for God as your own orgasm hits you.

His office goes quiet, the only sounds being your staggered breath along with his overhead ceiling fan.

Jongseong pulls himself out of you, immediately shoving two fingers inside your hole to keep his cum from drilling out of your pussy. Your body jolts again as you let out a pathetic, “Jongseong, please.”

“Not letting it go to waste.” He says simply, using his thumb to rub small circles on your clit. “Besides, you said you wanted me to fill you up right?”

“Yeah,” you whisper.

“Good,” he groans, “now lie on your stomach.”

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Retiring the US debt would retire the US dollar

THIS WEDNESDAY (October 23) at 7PM, I'll be in DECATUR, GEORGIA, presenting my novel THE BEZZLE at EAGLE EYE BOOKS.

One of the most consequential series of investigative journalism of this decade was the Propublica series that Jesse Eisinger helmed, in which Eisinger and colleagues analyzed a trove of leaked IRS tax returns for the richest people in America:

https://www.propublica.org/series/the-secret-irs-files

The Secret IRS Files revealed the fact that many of America's oligarchs pay no tax at all. Some of them even get subsidies intended for poor families, like Jeff Bezos, whose tax affairs are so scammy that he was able to claim to be among the working poor and receive a federal Child Tax Credit, a $4,000 gift from the American public to one of the richest men who ever lived:

https://www.propublica.org/article/the-secret-irs-files-trove-of-never-before-seen-records-reveal-how-the-wealthiest-avoid-income-tax

As important as the numbers revealed by the Secret IRS Files were, I found the explanations even more interesting. The 99.9999% of us who never make contact with the secretive elite wealth management and tax cheating industry know, in the abstract, that there's something scammy going on in those esoteric cults of wealth accumulation, but we're pretty vague on the details. When I pondered the "tax loopholes" that the rich were exploiting, I pictured, you know, long lists of equations salted with Greek symbols, completely beyond my ken.

But when Propublica's series laid these secret tactics out, I learned that they were incredibly stupid ruses, tricks so thin that the only way they could possibly fool the IRS is if the IRS just didn't give a shit (and they truly didn't – after decades of cuts and attacks, the IRS was far more likely to audit a family earning less than $30k/year than a billionaire).

This has become a somewhat familiar experience. If you read the Panama Papers, the Paradise Papers, Luxleaks, Swissleaks, or any of the other spectacular leaks from the oligarch-industrial complex, you'll have seen the same thing: the rich employ the most tissue-thin ruses, and the tax authorities gobble them up. It's like the tax collectors don't want to fight with these ultrawealthy monsters whose net worth is larger than most nations, and merely require some excuse to allow them to cheat, anything they can scribble in the box explaining why they are worth billions and paying little, or nothing, or even entitled to free public money from programs intended to lift hungry children out of poverty.

It was this experience that fueled my interest in forensic accounting, which led to my bestselling techno-crime-thriller series starring the two-fisted, scambusting forensic accountant Martin Hench, who made his debut in 2022's Red Team Blues:

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250865847/red-team-blues

The double outrage of finding out how badly the powerful are ripping off the rest of us, and how stupid and transparent their accounting tricks are, is at the center of Chokepoint Capitalism, the book about how tech and entertainment companies steal from creative workers (and how to stop them) that Rebecca Giblin and I co-authored, which also came out in 2022:

https://chokepointcapitalism.com/

Now that I've written four novels and a nonfiction book about finance scams, I think I can safely call myself a oligarch ripoff hobbyist. I find this stuff endlessly fascinating, enraging, and, most importantly, energizing. So naturally, when PJ Vogt devoted two episodes of his excellent Search Engine podcast to the subject last week, I gobbled them up:

https://www.searchengine.show/listen/search-engine-1/why-is-it-so-hard-to-tax-billionaires-part-1

I love the way Vogt unpacks complex subjects. Maybe you've had the experience of following a commentator and admiring their knowledge of subjects you're unfamiliar with, only have them cover something you're an expert in and find them making a bunch of errors (this is basically the experience of using an LLM, which can give you authoritative seeming answers when the subject is one you're unfamiliar with, but which reveals itself to be a Bullshit Machine as soon as you ask it about something whose lore you know backwards and forwards).

Well, Vogt has covered many subjects that I am an expert in, and I had the opposite experience, finding that even when he covers my own specialist topics, I still learn something. I don't always agree with him, but always find those disagreements productive in that they make me clarify my own interests. (Full disclosure: I was one of Vogt's experts on his previous podcast, Reply All, talking about the inkjet printerization of everything:)

https://gimletmedia.com/shows/reply-all/brho54

Vogt's series on taxing billionaires was no exception. His interview subjects (including Eisinger) were very good, and he got into a lot of great detail on the leaker himself, Charles Littlejohn, who plead guilty and was sentenced to five years:

https://jacobin.com/2023/10/charles-littlejohn-irs-whistleblower-pro-publica-tax-evasion-prosecution

Vogt also delved into the history of the federal income tax, how it was sold to the American public, and a rather hilarious story of Republican Congressional gamesmanship that backfired spectacularly. I'd never encountered this stuff before and boy was it interesting.

But then Vogt got into the nature of taxation, and its relationship to the federal debt, another subject I've written about extensively, and that's where one of those productive disagreements emerged. Yesterday, I set out to write him a brief note unpacking this objection and ended up writing a giant essay (sorry, PJ!), and this morning I found myself still thinking about it. So I thought, why not clean up the email a little and publish it here?

As much as I enjoyed these episodes, I took serious exception to one – fairly important! – aspect of your analysis: the relationship of taxes to the national debt.

There's two ways of approaching this question, which I think of as akin to classical vs quantum physics. In the orthodox, classical telling, the government taxes us to pay for programs. This is crudely true at 10,000 feet and as a rule of thumb, it's fine in many cases. But on the ground – at the quantum level, in this analogy – the opposite is actually going on.

There is only one source of US dollars: the US Treasury (you can try and make your own dollars, but they'll put you in prison for a long-ass time if they catch you.).

If dollars can only originate with the US government, then it follows that:

a) The US government doesn't need our taxes to get US dollars (for the same reason Apple doesn't need us to redeem our iTunes cards to get more iTunes gift codes);

b) All the dollars in circulation start with spending by the US government (taxes can't be paid until dollars are first spent by their issuer, the US government); and

c) That spending must happen before anyone has been taxed, because the way dollars enter circulation is through spending.

You've probably heard people say, "Government spending isn't like household spending." That is obviously true: households are currency users while governments are currency issuers.

But the implications of this are very interesting.

First, the total dollars in circulation are:

a) All the dollars the government has ever spent into existence funding programs, transferring to the states, and paying its own employees, minus

b) All the dollars that the government has taxed away from us, and subsequently annihilated.

(Because governments spend money into existence and tax money out of existence.)

The net of dollars the government spends in a given year minus the dollars the government taxes out of existence that year is called "the national deficit." The total of all those national deficits is called "the national debt." All the dollars in circulation today are the result of this national debt. If the US government didn't have a debt, there would be no dollars in circulation.

The only way to eliminate the national debt is to tax every dollar in circulation out of existence. Because the national debt is "all the dollars the government has ever spent," minus "all the dollars the government has ever taxed." In accounting terms, "The US deficit is the public's credit."

When billionaires like Warren Buffet tell Jesse Eisinger that he doesn't pay tax because "he thinks his money is better spent on charitable works rather than contributing to an insignificant reduction of the deficit," he is, at best, technically wrong about why we tax, and at worst, he's telling a self-serving lie. The US government doesn't need to eliminate its debt. Doing so would be catastrophic. "Retiring the US debt" is the same thing as "retiring the US dollar."

So if the USG isn't taxing to retire its debts, why does it tax? Because when the USG – or any other currency issuer – creates a token, that token is, on its face, useless. If I offered to sell you some "Corycoins," you would quite rightly say that Corycoins have no value and thus you don't need any of them.

For a token to be liquid – for it to be redeemable for valuable things, like labor, goods and services – there needs to be something that someone desires that can be purchased with that token. Remember when Disney issued "Disney dollars" that you could only spend at Disney theme parks? They traded more or less at face value, even outside of Disney parks, because everyone knew someone who was planning a Disney vacation and could make use of those Disney tokens.

But if you go down to a local carny and play skeeball and win a fistful of tickets, you'll find it hard to trade those with anyone outside of the skeeball counter, especially once you leave the carny. There's two reasons for this:

1) The things you can get at the skeeball counter are pretty crappy so most people don't desire them; and ' 2) Most people aren't planning on visiting the carny, so there's no way for them to redeem the skeeball tickets even if they want the stuff behind the counter (this is also why it's hard to sell your Iranian rials if you bring them back to the US – there's not much you can buy in Iran, and even someone you wanted to buy something there, it's really hard for US citizens to get to Iran).

But when a sovereign currency issuer – one with the power of the law behind it – demands a tax denominated in its own currency, they create demand for that token. Everyone desires USD because almost everyone in the USA has to pay taxes in USD to the government every year, or they will go to prison. That fact is why there is such a liquid market for USD. Far more people want USD to pay their taxes than will ever want Disney dollars to spend on Dole Whips, and even if you are hoping to buy a Dole Whip in Fantasyland, that desire is far less important to you than your desire not to go to prison for dodging your taxes.

Even if you're not paying taxes, you know someone who is. The underlying liquidity of the USD is inextricably tied to taxation, and that's the first reason we tax. By issuing a token – the USD – and then laying on a tax that can only be paid in that token (you cannot pay federal income tax in anything except USD – not crypto, not euros, not rials – only USD), the US government creates demand for that token.

And because the US government is the only source of dollars, the US government can purchase anything that is within its sovereign territory. Anything denominated in US dollars is available to the US government: the labor of every US-residing person, the land and resources in US territory, and the goods produced within the US borders. The US doesn't need to tax us to buy these things (remember, it makes new money by typing numbers into a spreadsheet at the Federal Reserve). But it does tax us, and if the taxes it levies don't equal the spending it's making, it also sells us T-bills to make up the shortfall.

So the US government kinda acts like classical physics is true, that is, like it is a household and thus a currency user, and not a currency issuer. If it spends more than it taxes, it "borrows" (issues T-bills) to make up the difference. Why does it do this? To fight inflation.

The US government has no monetary constraints, it can make as many dollars as it cares to (by typing numbers into a spreadsheet). But the US government is fiscally constrained, because it can only buy things that are denominated in US dollars (this is why it's such a big deal that global oil is priced in USD – it means the US government can buy oil from anywhere, not only the USA, just by typing numbers into a spreadsheet).

The supply of dollars is infinite, but the supply of labor and goods denominated in US dollars is finite, and, what's more, the people inside the USA expect to use that labor and goods for their own needs. If the US government issues so many dollars that it can outbid every private construction company for the labor of electricians, bricklayers, crane drivers, etc, and puts them all to work building federal buildings, there will be no private construction.

Indeed, every time the US government bids against the private sector for anything – labor, resources, land, finished goods – the price of that thing goes up. That's one way to get inflation (and it's why inflation hawks are so horny for slashing government spending – to get government bidders out of the auction for goods, services and labor).

But while the supply of goods for sale in US dollars is finite, it's not fixed. If the US government takes away some of the private sector's productive capacity in order to build interstates, train skilled professionals, treat sick people so they can go to work (or at least not burden their working-age relations), etc, then the supply of goods and services denominated in USD goes up, and that makes more fiscal space, meaning the government and the private sector can both consume more of those goods and services and still not bid against one another, thus creating no inflationary pressure.

Thus, taxes create liquidity for US dollars, but they do something else that's really important: they reduce the spending power of the private sector. If the US only ever spent money into existence and never taxed it out of existence, that would create incredible inflation, because the supply of dollars would go up and up and up, while the supply of goods and services you could buy with dollars would grow much more slowly, because the US government wouldn't have the looming threat of taxes with which to coerce us into doing the work to build highways, care for the sick, or teach people how to be doctors, engineers, etc.

Taxes coercively reduce the purchasing power of the private sector (they're a stick). T-bills do the same thing, but voluntarily (they the carrot).

A T-bill is a bargain offered by the US government: "Voluntarily park your money instead of spending it. That will create fiscal space for us to buy things without bidding against you, because it removes your money from circulation temporarily. That means we, the US government, can buy more stuff and use it to increase the amount of goods and services you can buy with your money when the bond matures, while keeping the supply of dollars and the supply of dollar-denominated stuff in rough equilibrium."

So a bond isn't a debt – it's more like a savings account. When you move money from your checking to your savings, you reduce its liquidity, meaning the bank can treat it as a reserve without worrying quite so much about you spending it. In exchange, the bank gives you some interest, as a carrot.

I know, I know, this is a big-ass wall of text. Congrats if you made it this far! But here's the upshot. We should tax billionaires, because it will reduce their economic power and thus their political power.

But we absolutely don't need to tax billionaires to have nice things. For example: the US government could hire every single unemployed person without creating inflationary pressure on wages, because inflation only happens when the US government tries to buy something that the private sector is also trying to buy, bidding up the price. To be "unemployed" is to have labor that the private sector isn't trying to buy. They're synonyms. By definition, the feds could put every unemployed person to work (say, training one another to be teachers, construction workers, etc – and then going out and taking care of the sick, addressing the housing crisis, etc etc) without buying any labor that the private sector is also trying to buy.

What's even more true than this is that our taxes are not going to reduce the national debt. That guest you had who said, "Even if we tax billionaires, we will never pay off the national debt,"" was 100% right, because the national debt equals all the money in circulation.

Which is why that guest was also very, very wrong when she said, "We will have to tax normal people too in order to pay off the debt." We don't have to pay off the debt. We shouldn't pay off the debt. We can't pay off the debt. Paying off the debt is another way of saying "eliminating the dollar."

Taxation isn't a way for the government to pay for things. Taxation is a way to create demand for US dollars, to convince people to sell goods and services to the US government, and to constrain private sector spending, which creates fiscal space for the US government to buy goods and services without bidding up their prices.

And in a "classical physics" sense, all of the preceding is kinda a way of saying, "Taxes pay for government spending." As a rough approximation, you can think of taxes like this and generally not get into trouble.

But when you start to make policy – when you contemplate when, whether, and how much to tax billionaires – you leave behind the crude, high-level approximation and descend into the nitty-gritty world of things as they are, and you need to jettison the convenience of the easy-to-grasp approximation.

If you're interested in learning more about this, you can tune into this TED Talk by Stephanie Kelton, formerly formerly advisor to the Senate Budget Committee chair, now back teaching and researching econ at University of Missouri at Kansas City:

https://www.ted.com/talks/stephanie_kelton_the_big_myth_of_government_deficits?subtitle=en

Stephanie has written a great book about this, The Deficit Myth:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/05/14/everybody-poops/#deficit-myth

There's a really good feature length doc about it too, called "Finding the Money":

https://findingmoneyfilm.com/

If you'd like to read more of my own work on this, here's a column I wrote about the nature of currency in light of Web3, crypto, etc:

https://locusmag.com/2022/09/cory-doctorow-moneylike/

Tor Books as just published two new, free LITTLE BROTHER stories: VIGILANT, about creepy surveillance in distance education; and SPILL, about oil pipelines and indigenous landback.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/10/21/we-can-have-nice-things/#public-funds-not-taxpayer-dollars

[mondaymelon]

₊⊹ … 99% NOT LOVE ! | kinich x gn!reader

— in which two people notice what two people don't .

— i've gone absolutely batshit over him your honour. im going to now start writing for kinich like a crazed man dying of thirst in the desert. let it be known that streamer!au kinich, enemies to lovers with poacher mc and other ideas are coming up (no im not cheating on xiao shush)

mualani notices it.

"hehe."

and you hear it.

"so! there's a little..." she stares at you with the most serious face you've ever seen on the girl, acting suspiciously unlike herself. gesturing at you with exaggerated hand movements, then pointing toward who knows where, she eyes you. mischievously. "something that's 'going on', yea?"

and at first, you have absolutely no clue what she could be referring to. mualani is a sociable person, after all. her definition of "something" could range anywhere between a particularly cute baby saurian to an out-of-control-bonfire turned wildfire.

with the only eventful thing today being a brief morning surf session with sharky, you just sat there, never having felt more lost.

mualani grabs your shoulders in an iron grip, leaning forward to the point she's almost beginning to seem menacing. you can see the moment where she tries to think over something (which she never does quite successfully) before she straight up shouts:

"ah!! i'll just spell it out for you!! you. and kinich. bestie. spill."

.

.

.

ajaw did more than just "notice" it.

"you..! kIINICH, did you seriously have to-"

"noisy."

"selfish assh- ALMIGHTY DRAGONLORD K'UHUL AJAW HAS HAD ENOUGH OF THE DISRESPECT! TIME AND TIME AGAIN, yOU'VE-"

"once again, ajaw. be quiet."

"sure sure, and pretend i didn't see you and that someone do a little smoochy-smooch, huh?! UGH, now you've asked for it- KINICH AND LOVEY DOVEY, SITTIN' IN A TREE, K-I-S-S-I-N-"

ajaw was what you would call a "witness". though, most would use that term in regards to one seeing a crime or heinous event take place — this event was nothing of that nature.

well, as far as kinich was concerned, the matter was simple. you'd ventured all the way to scions of the canopy to give him a gift, (claiming it was for the time he'd helped you after a couple of yumkausarus hadn't enjoyed your fruit offering and instead decided to off you), and he'd refused to accept it. he wasn't one to receive reimbursement for others, and he didn't particularly like talking either — it was a well-known fact, almost law in natlan, that if the malipo ignored your words, all you need do was apologize and continue on.

well, you did exactly the opposite.

"no thanks."

"...sorry?"

"i don't need it."

"haha, so 'malipo' kinich's rumored no-nonsense nature really proved to be true! now come over here so i can give you my fucking gift!"

you were rather adamant about giving it to him. the reason? you'd bought the gift on a whim after seeing it being sold by a passing merchant, advertised as "80% only today if you buy within the next like 4 minutes" and you'd immediately dropped every mora you had. it was the most useless little thing ever, and you didn't want it at this point, but.. the deals. how could you return such an item???

naturally, you handed it off to the man you'd seen for a good two minutes before he flew, or did whatever his thing was, away. the man had remembered furrowing his brows the slightest, listening to ajaw's persistent yellings of "IT'S AN OFFERING TO ME, TAKE IT" and feeling an oncoming headache. "i said i didn't.."

as he turned to walk away, three unfortunate(?) things occured.

a rock under your shoe and a very graceful process of falling to the ground

kinich looking back (his mistake)

a kiss...?

oh, and two extra.

4. ajaw had saw it all. 5. and mualani, who had saw you from a distance and was coming to greet you, was faced with a sight she could not process.

...Now that he thought over it again, was the matter really "simple"? kinich's job was what he considered simple — split 70% to investigation, 10% to final decision, and 10% to execution, well portioned and planned out.

then, this...

.

.

.

"girlie, you've seriously got the wrong idea. i'm telling you, we aren't dating!"

"mmmokay. of course! because not-dating people kiss allll the time!"

you paused for a moment, remembering kinich's even tone, stern gaze, and... ah, a face that deserved a gold medal.

"it's only 99% not love, okay mualani? but if it wasn't..."

.

.

.

"... and it's 99% not love, ajaw."

(a/n) darling im back from jail part 2. daddys home part 2. not funny? ok. HIHIHIHI ive bene really built like a sun dried raisin lately but kinich is the healing holy water that has saved me i will write more for him in the future because i love him a stupid amount its like the first time in a decade I've written for just ONE character and AND AND

I THOUGHT HE WOULDNT OCME HOME BECAUSE I ONLY HAD 68 WISHES OUT OF MY ORIGINAL LIKE 100+ AND RUINED MY CHANCES BECAUSE OF REALLY REALLY WANTING MuALANI (i love her sm) BUT. BUT BRO CAME HOME. ON THE FIRST 10 PULL AND WON THE 50/50 JUST LIKE MUALANI DID (or is it 45/55 now idk) LIVE LAUGH LOVE KINICH !!

[ tags: ] @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu-archive, @falors, @swivy123, @scara-is-my-wife, @lupicalbestwolf, @justyoureader,@fiannee, @aether-darling, @aioniela, @avensuersa, @dainsleif-when-playable, @intpessimistic

( dm or comment to be added ! i might miss ur comment so just to be sure, leave a comment on the actual masterlists page on my pinned ^ ^ )

[smutoperator]

Call Me Jen

Huh Yunjin x Male Reader

Tags: A2M, anal creampie, anal whore, big dick worship, butt plug, cheating, dirty talk, escort, finger-fucking, fisting, gape, hotel room, pornstar experience, riding, squirting, sugar daddy, uncut cock

Word Count: 4992

Yunjin wasn't feeling well today. Her boyfriend had cheated on her. All that while she was in the middle of the latest Le Sserafim comeback performances. She needed someone to help her with her frustrations.

You, on the other hand, were just chilling until you received a text message.

"Can we have sex tonight?" Yunjin asked. "Aren't you dating?" you replied back. "Well, yeah, but my boyfriend is a cheating asshole," she replied. "You know what? The best way to forget a cheating asshole is to get fucked in the asshole," you replied. "Then, let's find a quiet place so you can fuck me in the asshole," she said.

You gave Yunjin the address of your favorite 5-star hotel. "Arrive by yourself; tell the front desk you'll be my companion. And don't forget to bring a fake ID not to raise suspicions from those media vultures," you told her. "I'll be there later at night," you said. 

"I need better assurances than just words after that asshole broke my heart," Yunjin said. "I'll give you the best assurance, money; if you want to have sex with me so bad, I'm gonna reward you like the high-end hooker that you are," you tell her as you give her a proof of deposit in her bank account. "Sure," she said.

Yunjin arrives at the empty room, playing with herself in a one-piece dress. She is feeling a little tired due to the recent comeback performances, but the spatious bed is perfect for her to get some rest and touch herself with no one bothering her. She plays with her tits, fingers her pussy, and last but not least, gapes her ass, preparing herself for a special night.

It's nearly 11 PM, and you have yet to arrive. Yunjin still waits. Either way, she's already got the money. She messages you showing her outfit for tonight, a pink lingerie with a shiny butt plug decorated with pink sapphires shoved in her asshole just to the side of her thong strip. "I'll be there in a couple minutes," you say.

You arrive at the room, finding Yunjin already in a primed position, her body bent over into her bed as you see her exposed fat ass before you even get to see her face. "Nice plug you got in there," you tell her.

"What is inside of it is even nicer," Yunjin says, teasing you the gape move she did during that Unforgiven choreography, placing her long nails right in her buttcheeks. Rumor has it she's got the best gape in the whole industry, so you wanted to test it. She keeps teasing you, finally showing her face as she bites her fingers, before bouncing her ass up in the air a few times, the feeling in the air akin to one of those raw porn scenes filmed in a very dark room.

Yunjin puts her ass further up as she puts her face in the bed, teasing you about her pussy, which you assume is as pink as the fabric she's wearing to cover it. She quickly answers that question to you, pulling her panties to the side and showing off her pussy.

"Ready for a pornstar experience, baby?" Yunjin asks. Using just her middle and index fingers, she puts them between the butt plug's notch, teasing you as she pushes it in and out of her asshole until she takes it completely off, only to push it back in again shortly after. She closes her eyes and winks her still small gape at you, giving you a smile when you come close to her face and then proceeding to lick the plug.

"My asshole is hella tasty," Yunjin says to you. "It'll be even tastier with my cock inside it," you say to her. "I can only hope," she replies.

Yunjin keeps teasing you, licking her plug. She turns around and takes her panties off, pleasing herself as her long nails hit her clit. Yunjin tastes herself, showing off her perfect dick-sucking lips.

"Let me see that pussy," you say, taking your clothes off, kissing Yunjin, and replacing her hands into her cunt. The good massage you give it makes Yunjin's pussy throb and pulsate, anticipating your cock in there.

"Ohhhhh, fuckkkkk," Yunjin softly whispers as you insert a pair of fingers in her cunt. "You wanna fill every inch of my pussy and my asshole?" she asks. You let your fingers answer the question for yourself, pushing them deeper in Yunjin's pussy. "Oh yes, baby, FUCKKKKKKKk," she moans, her legs trembling as she adds an extra pressure fingering her clit while you finger-fuck her cunt.

"Wanna be my little prostitute tonight? Ride that cock like a pornstar?" you ask her. "YES, BABY, I WANNA BE YOUR LITTLE WHORE, YOUR LITTLE FUCKING PROSTITUTE; I LOVE BEING A WHORE," Yunjin screams. "I love having my holes used like fleshlight and pounded like a pornstar," she continues.

"How hard are you gonna use my asshole, baby?" Yunjin asks. "You'll know that soon, baby," you say to her. "But first, I need you to take all these clothes off and let me worship that pussy," you tell her.

Yunjin obliges as she pulls her bra to the side and shows you her perky tits. "Oh my God, yes, eat my pussy; get it ready for your cock; that's what I want, fuckkkkk," she says as you dive her face into her pink hole.

"Get it nice and wet; make my pussy feel good," Yunjin whispers as you work your tongue and finger simultaneously inside her pussy, getting your fingers wet. "You have that asshole stretched out already; put your fingers in there," Yunjin says, showing you her insatiable anal kink.

You put both your index and middle fingers on Yunjin's anus. "Oh my God," you say as Yunjin's butthole surprises you, acting as if it is like a cosmic black hole that sucks everything in its vicinity. If it was behaving like that just with your fingers, can you imagine when you put your cock in there? "Look how gaped it is already, holy shit," you say to her.

You give Yunjin's butthole a trial run as you pump your fingers in and out of it. Your cock is probably twice as large, and those fingers are already doing some nice damage. "Ohhhhhh, fuckkkkkk," Yunjin enjoys it.

"I can't wait to feel that cock in my asshole," Yunjin says as you keep poking it with your fingers. She gives you a massive smile as you toy with her butthole, making her let out a big scream. "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH, YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS" as she starts squirting just with the anal stimulation you provide her.

"Taste it, taste it, taste it," Yunjin begs as you sniff her pussy. You then lie on the bed, your already massive erection pointing up and waiting for her to suck it. "I can't wait to use this cock," Yunjin says. "I wanna do whatever I want with this big fucking cock," she continues as she licks your shaft and you seize the opportunity to spank her sexy ass.

Yunjin gets on top of you as you two start performing a 69. You love how long her legs are and how they wrap around your face. She coats your shaft with her saliva and massages your balls before taking that microphone deep in her throat. "I'm gonna get it very wet," she says.

You can't resist and start thrusting upwards against Yunjin's slutty face. But she clearly wins this round. "Fuck," you scream, unable to beat her magic throat as she just dives it deeper into your shaft, jering it off in triumph. "YESSSSS!" she yells. More saliva covers your cock as you find out Yunjin is truly a nasty spitter.

"That uncut cock is going to feel so good deep in my asshole," Yunjin says as she sucks it further and slaps it in her face, her tongue sticking out in glee. You try to push her head further down your shaft, but once again she takes it like a champion.

"Let me look at that pretty face sucking my big fat cock," you tell Yunjin, turning around in the bed, letting her kneel in front of your body to suck your cock. With you watching, she turns up a notch, bobbing her head even faster trying to prove herself for her sole audience.

"You're so hot working on that dick, don't fucking stop," you tell Yunjin, trying to fuck her face once again only to see her come out on top once more. You get up and start sucking her tits while she masturbates herself. "Enough, just get on top of that cock," you say to her.

"Right there," Yunjin says as your cock enters her pussy. "Oh my God, your cock is so fucking thick, it's twice the size of my asshole boyfriend," Yunjin says. "Such a giant fucking cock stretching my pussy open, that's what I want," she continues.

You wrap your arms around Yunjin's body and thrust upwards against her cunt, determined to destroy it. "YES, POUND THAT PUSSY, I WANT EVERY FUCKING INCH OF THAT COCK," she yells, leaning down as your bodies get closer and she gets her cunt stretched out.

"Take that cock, you fucking whore," you say to her. "AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH," Yunjin screams, but quickly regains control and starts twerking on that big dick. "SPANK MY ASS WHILE I RIDE THAT COCK," she demands, getting really loud as you hit her pale cheeks with your heavy hands.

"Fuck every fucking inch of my fucking pussy, yes, yes, yes," Yunjin drops tons of f-bombs as she bounces on your cock. "Go slow, you fucking slut, don't make me fucking cum yet," you have to ask her as Yunjin is very energetic riding your cock.

Yunjin slows down, switching to straighter and longer bounces. "That's right, you dirty fucking whore," you say to her. She then starts grinding. "You're so deep inside me, just stuff that whole dick in my pussy," she begs. "YOU'RE GONNA MAKE ME CUM, FUCKKKKKK," she screams as her pussy juices drip down, her walls clenching harder when you tap her ass shortly after.

As Yunjin tastes herself from your cock, she's already thinking about her next move. "Fuck, I wanna feel this thick cock in my ass," she says. "Then come feel it," you say, getting her body sideways as you prepare to insert that huge prick in her anus at a spooning position.

"Show me that pink asshole," you tell her. "I need your cock in it, please," Yunjin begs. "Right there, right there," she repeats as you slide it in her butthole. "Tell me you want it," you say to her. "Yes, I want this fucking cock, please," she answers.

You thrust fast into Yunjin's asshole in spooning position as she puts her finger in her pussy. "Ohhhh yeahhhhh," she moans as she gives you a big smile. "Make me your little anal whore, yessss," she says as you keep pumping it. "Take it as deep as you can get it; I want every inch of it in my ass, every fucking inch," she begs.

"Stuff that thick cock right in my asshole," Yunjin demands as you stop thrusting and grab her tits while digging deeper and deeper into her anus. "Oh my God, make me take it, fuck," she says as you resume pounding it, trying to push all your nine inches inside it. "I want you to use me like the total whore I am," she says. 

"USE ME, DADDY, FUCK MY ASSHOLE," Yunjin screams as you increase the heat up her butt. "FUCK MY ASSHOLE, DADDY," she keeps screaming. "Shut your fucking mouth, you prostitute," you tell her, putting your hands over it.

But the last thing Yunjin wants is to stay quiet. "STRETCH THAT ASS, GAPE ME," she screams as soon as you start choking her and hammering her even harder. "This fucking ass is made to be fucked," she tells you.

You slow down and appreciate Yunjin's tight butthole. "You're so fucking good in my ass," she says, kissing you and switching up into more of a girlfriend experience. But quickly she goes back to being her usual whore self. "I don't want you to stop; I want you balls fucking deep in my ass," she says shortly after.

"Give me the whole thing, AHHHHH," Yunjin says before she puts her hands in her mouth and covers it. You manhandle her butthole hard while simultaneously finger-fucking her cunt and making juices rain out of her pussy.

"Stay there," Yunjin says, keeping your cock in her ass. She gets up and climbs on top of your body, sitting on your cock in reverse cowgirl and giving you a perfect view of her sexy ass. "Right there in my ass, daddy," she says, letting you grab her legs and thrust upwards into her butt.

"I love to feel every inch of it in my ass," Yunjin says as she starts riding your big dick. "I want to bounce up and down that cock with my ass until I die," she says. "My asshole is made for that big cock," she continues to talk while bouncing.

"FUCK IT, FUCK IT HARD, DADDY," Yunjin commands as you pound her hard up her butt. "POUND MY FUCKING ASSHOLE," she keeps saying as you now reach your hands to finger her pussy and make her eyes roll with so much pleasure. "FUCK ME AS HARD YOU CAN," she screams, challenging you to destroy her to the fullest.

"Don't make me cum yet, your fucking prostitute," you say, shoving Yunjin's body off of your cock as you nearly fill her ass already. You have been with her for just 15 minutes, but you paid for 30 and want to survive up to it. Yunjin slaps your cock in her face, very satisfied. "Looks like I'm a great fucking prostitute, aren't I, daddy?" she asks.

"My asshole tastes so fucking good in this cock," Yunjin says as she starts savoring your meat. "Stroke with that pretty mouth; you're so good sucking dick," you tell her as Yunjin takes your cock deeper in her throat. "How many fucking cocks have you used like that?" you ask her. "Not enough," Yunjin answers.

"So you like to cheat on your boyfriend before he even cheated on you? What a whore," you say to her face. "Yes, daddy, I can't help myself; I'm a true addict to cock in my ass," Yunjin replies to you.

"Don't worry, I'll give more of it, but first I need to stroke that dick in your naughty tongue," you tell her, jerking off as she licks the tip of your uncut cock every time it emerges out of your foreskin.

"Look what a fucking whore you are," you say to Yunjin. "Now, show me that asshole," you ask her. Yunjin turns around and spreads her cheeks for you to shove your cock back in it. "That pink butthole is so pretty," you tell her right before spitting on it and shutting it down with your massive cock.

"Damn, you're so tight, you fucking bitch," you tell her as you go back into manically thrusting up and down her ass. "Yes, daddy, I want to be one of your favorite fuckholes," you tell her. "It's gonna be a tough competition; I fucked a few of your groupmates, and I can tell they are quite big anal whores too," you tell her, bragging about your perfect nights with the other Le Sserafim girls.

You mount on top of Yunjin to properly use her. "Tell me how you want it," you say to her. "I WANT IT BALLS FUCKING DEEP," Yunjin screams as you stretch her butt out. "GIVE ME WHAT I WANT, THAT BIG THICK COCK BALLS DEEP IN MY ASSHOLE, YESSSSS. BURY IT IN ME, DADDY, BURY THAT FUCKING DICK IN MY ASS, YOU'RE MAKING ME DROOL" she continues to yell as she fingers her pussy and starts coating the bedsheets with her squirt.

"HARDER, DADDY, PLEASE." Yunjin keeps begging, as the only thing preventing you from stuffing your balls up her butthole is the tightness of it. You give her no breaks and pound her hard, fast, and balls deep just as she asks.

"Show me that hole," you tell Yunjin as you pull out of her ass. She spreads her cheeks, showcasing the massive gape you left in her pink anus. "Open it for me," you order as Yunjin spreads her butthole out and shows off her pounded guts to you. "I love when you do it; let me put my fucking tongue in it," you tell her, licking her asshole.

"Oh fuck, daddy, your tongue feels so good in my asshole," Yunjin says to you as you also start to sniff her dirty butthole. You effortlessly put your cock back in it, as her asshole is already so stretched out it offers little resist to your shaft, pounding her now at a straight angle.

"Put that dick where it belongs," Yunjin says as you resume pounding her. Queefing sounds start to come out of her asshole as you put her on the verge of achieving an anal orgasm. You pound her ass, but her pussy lips are now also parting in half, letting all the fluids flow out of Yunjin's body as she gets anally destroyed.

Yunjin cums all over the besheets as you enjoy the pink gape in her anus right after pulling out. "Fuck, that's too pretty," you say it again. "You like this pretty asshole, daddy?" she asks. "Yes, it's so beautiful and swallows up my cock with such ease," you reply.

Yunjin is so horny she starts fisting her entire hand up her butthole. "Oh, fuck," she moans as each of her long fingers disappears one by one inside her anus. "Oh my god, you really want to stretch that ass to the fullest for me," you say as you watch Yunjin put her arm all the way up to her wrist inside her asshole, even fitting the pair of bracelets she's wearing all the way down it.

"That fucking asshole is made to take cocks," Yunjin flaunts about it as she keeps fisting herself and teasing you. Watching Yunjin squirt as she puts her arm up, her anus is so beautiful. "Don't stop, keep going," you motivate her. "I love that," you say just as Yunjin finishes it and leaves her hand up her mouth to enjoy more of the taste of her asshole.

Yunjin keeps teasing her anus for you, fisting it, winking it, and gaping it multiple times. "It's so fucking made for anal," she says while doing it, building up your desire to get back inside it. "All I want now is to be your anal whore, daddy," she adds.

You fulfill Yunjin's wish and, with no warning, shove your cock back in her asshole. "OH MY GOD, FUCKKKKK," she soon screams. "I'M SO ADDICTED TO YOUR COCK, IT'S LIKE A FUCKING DRUG," she keeps going as you treat her butthole like a jerkoff fleshlight.

"I love how you make me your personal fuckhole, daddy," Yunjin says as you increase the pace even further. "I'M YOUR FUCKHOLE, I'M YOUR FUCKHOLE, YES, YES, YES," she screams nonstop.

"Wanna sit on that dick?" you ask Yunjin after you're finished drilling her. "Of course," she says. "Then turn around and show me that ass; I want to see it getting impaled by my big fat cock," you tell her.

"Perfect," you say as Yunjin slides your cock up her butthole and starts twerking on it. You slap her cheeks, which she interprets as a code to go harder. "Fuck, I love this so much," you say as she starts spreading them out while bouncing on it.

"You want to cum in that tight little fucking asshole, don't you, daddy?" Yunjin asks as she picks up the pace. "Definitely," you tell her. "Look how I take this whole fucking thing in my ass; isn't it good, daddy?" She keeps asking, but you can only groan, trying to hold your composure not to cum as her butthole clenches all over that dick.

"You've got such a perfect asshole," you compliment Yunjin while giving her butt a couple extra slaps as she stays bouncing on your cock. "And you've got such a perfect way to fuck it, daddy," she responds. "Fuck my ass hard while I play with my pussy; make me squirt all over these bedsheets," she continues.

You thrust up Yunjin's butt once again, making her cheeks clap. "Come taste more of that asshole, baby," you say once you're finished. Yunjin slowly pulls your cock out, only to surprise you with an insane deepthroat that drives you crazy, then playing with your shaft and sucking it like a lollipop, spitting all over it like a good whore playing with her personal toy. 

"I love to stuff that cock down my pretty mouth the way you stuffed it up my ass," Yunjin says as she gets very sloppy with your prick, bobbing her head on it while grabbing your balls and making it throb. 

Yunjin uses the spit on your dick to lube it and sits on it shortly after, this time with her face turned to you. But better yet, her squirting cunt facing you and giving you easy access to finger it, hoping for a gush so intense that it hits your face.

You quickly show Yunjin who's in control and fuck her hard even with her tall body on top of yours. Her pussy slowly starts to get wetter, her tits bounce, and her eyes roll. "Yessssssss," she moans hard. "Your asshole is so good, still so fucking tight after all that gaping," you tell her. 

"OH, YOU'RE GONNA MAKE ME CUM," Yunjin screams as she puts her hands in her cunt and starts fingering it. "FUCK, I'M CUMMING WITH THAT BIG COCK IN MY ASS, AHHHH," she says shortly after, rewarding you with a huge gush of her juice right as your face, just like you wanted it. "God, I love how you make me cum by fucking my asshole," Yunjin praises you shortly after.

Yunjin takes a little break to recover, riding your cock at a very slow pace. "Look at those slow and deep strokes all the way down my asshole; aren't they sexy, daddy?" she asks.

"They make you look like a prostitute, an anal whore," you tell her. "Hmmm, I love looking like an anal whore, daddy," Yunjin says, grinding on your cock just as you grab her neck and choke her. "Don't stop it; keep grinding, you fucking slut," you demand as you reach into her tits and pinch her nipples. Yunjin moans full of pleasure and then shares a few kisses with you. "Good girl, I'm gonna reward you for that," you say to her.

You put Yunjin in a missionary position in bed and push her long legs over her head, inserting your cock back in her ass for another round, pounding her balls deep on an anal mating press while she fingers herself. "Ohhhhh, fuckkkk," a submissive Yunjin moans. "You fuck my little asshole so fucking perfectly, daddy," she says.

"You're such a nasty, worthless whore," you degrade Yunjin while spanking and fucking her butt. "YES, I AM YOU ANAL WHORE, DADDY. THAT'S WHAT I WANT TO BE FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE," Yunjin answers screaming.

"Then spread that hole for me to see it again; I bet your boyfriend can't gape it the way I do," you tell Yunjin. "Yes, daddy, only you gape me like that," she replies, winking her butthole and telling you she wants more.

You destroy Yunjin's ass much to her enjoyment. She loves it, playing with her gaping butthole again and stretching it wide. "Tell me how much you love your big fucking cock taking this beautiful pink asshole, daddy," she says. You tell her by flipping Yunjin around and appreciating her asshole with more tonguing and sniffing, just how she likes it, and making her cum once again all over the bedsheets.

"Taste my asshole after you fucked it; admire the work your big cock did on it," Yunjin says to you. "Damn, you got the most perfect butthole I've seen," you tell her. "You say that to every whore you fuck in the ass, don't you, daddy?" Yunjin giggles and pokes fun of you.

"Spread that hole; I ain't done fucking that ass," you tell her, pushing your cock back inside Yunjin at a prone bone position and pushing her body hard against the already very wet bedsheets. "Look at this hole; it's so fucking hot," you say as you plow Yunjin into oblivion, enjoying her sexy moans. You love stretching her out so much that you insert your fingers alongside your cock in her ass. "Hmmm, I love it, daddy, always wanted to have two in my ass at the same time," Yunjin says.

"How much can you take, you fucking whore?" you ask Yunjin as you shove your middle finger deeper in her anus. "As much as you want to, daddy, spread me open and fuck me harder; spread that slutty hole open; hit me right in that fucking asshole," she begs. You do just that, leaving your mark all over Yunjin's ass.

"Damn, it's so fucking perfect," you're all praising about Yunjin's butthole. You put her ass up and grab what is still left of Yunjin's lingerie to control her while you pound her ass, treating her like a toy.

"FUCK IT, DADDY, SHOW ME HOW THAT ASS IS BUILT TO TAKE BIG COCKS," Yunjin begs as you destroy her. That's who she is, a prostitute, an anal whore; the only difference between her and a pornstar is that she whores herself while the cameras are off, but fucking her is indeed a top-notch pornstar experience similar to some of the best anal queens.

"In and out, daddy, toy with my fucking butthole," Yunjin demands as you tease her with your cock going back and forth in and out of her anus. "Now gape me open, gape my fucking asshole," she begs once you thrust hard back in, using her to the fullest.

"Holy fuck," you get shocked at the size of the gap you imprinted on Yunjin as she spreads her cheeks open. You might be able to fit a tennis ball in there considering how wide it is.

But you aren't done, turning Yunjin around for another round as you want to gape her butthole even further. She fingers herself and asks to be split open and fucked hard. You do just as she asks, ramming her ass with all your intensity. "That's still not enough, you fucking whore?" you ask her, now choking Yunjin with both hands.

"NO DADDY, IT'S NOT ENOUGH, I WANT YOU TO POUND ME UNTIL YOU FUCKING FILL MY ASS WITH YOUR THICK CUM," Yunjin screams as she starts squirting once again with her fingers all over her cunt. "I'm gonna do that, but first I'm going to play a little more with you, whore," you say.

You stick your fingers up Yunjin's squirting cunt before moving them to fist her asshole. "Is that what you want, whore? A fucking gaped and fisted butthole?" you ask her. "YES, DADDY, THAT'S WHAT I WANT, EVEN BETTER IF IT'S FULL OF YOUR CUM," she says. 

"Cum in my asshole, cum in my fucking asshole; that's what I want; please, use this fucking asshole to cum," Yunjin says. "You wanna see this fucking asshole stretched wide open for you?" she asks, doing the fisting now.

"Put it right back in, daddy, show how much you want to use this fucking gaping asshole to cum," Yunjin moans. You jerk your cock off, teasing her. "Stoke that fucking cock and cum in my asshole; make it your little personal cumhole," Yunjin begs and moans as you slide it right back in it for one last round.

Just a couple thrusts are enough for you to fill Yunjin's butthole with your load. She loves it and fists her ass in search of that cum, scooping it with her hands and tasting it. "My asshole is so delicious," she tells you as your cum can't stop leaking from her anus. "Maybe I need to push it deeper," you say, inserting your cock for a little extra fucking. "Yes, daddy, fuck that cum all the way deep into my ass," Yunjin celebrates.

Epilogue

Yunjin puts her butt plug back in as she treasures your cum in her hole. "Fuck, I'm just so full of cum now," she says. "You're now my anal cumwhore, my sugar baby, Yunjin," you tell her. "Yes, daddy, that's what I am; by the way, you can call me Jen," she says.

"Hmmm, Jen and Michelle, that's a nice pair of sugar babies," you tell her.

"Michelle?" A confused Yunjin asks just as someone opens the door of the hotel room.

"Speaking of the devil," you say.

"Looks like you two had a lot of fun in there," Chaewon says. "Indeed we had; wanna go next, Michelle?" you ask her.

"We could do this together, couldn't we?" Chaewon asks. "Her ass is probably too sore for that, but she can use her mouth to help me fuck your ass," you tell Chaewon.

"Deal," the bob girl answers as she takes her clothes off, spreads her ass and you put your cock in there. The night has just gotten even more perfect.

"Let's see if you can be a bigger anal whore than me, Michelle," Yunjin challenges Chaewon as you dig deeper into the older girl's asshole.

"You know what? Let's call Kkura and Zuha too and settle this for good," Chaewon replies.

It looks like we're gonna have an anal whore competition here.

[nikkento-writes]

Babysitter - Part 2

Pairing: dad!Toji x babysitter!reader

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~3.8k

cw: age gap (reader is 21, Toji is in his 30s), explicit language, cheating, pregnancy, smut – PIV sex (doggy style)

Summary: You deal with the aftermath of your summer babysitting job turned adulterous summer scandal.

Author’s Notes: Thanks for all the kind words and support on Part 1 of this! I hope you enjoy part 2, and who knows, maybe I'll write a part 3 one day lol. Thanks for reading! Divider credit to @/fic-dumpster.

Taglist: @scorpiosugar @diegojeanne @f4irygard3n @cvixmei @soniiyi - more tags in the comments

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” You blink away the tears in your eyes, holding the pregnancy test, hoping that somehow, you’ll blink away the second line indicating that you are indeed pregnant.

“No way.” Chiyo waits for you outside the stall, the apprehension in her voice apparent.

“Yes. I’m…” There’s a lump in your throat you have to swallow before you finish your sentence. “Pregnant.”

Your best friend’s silence on the other side only makes you panic more, but you don’t blame her. What can she really say to make any of this better? To stop your world from turning upside down?

She whispers your name quietly, at a complete loss for words. Then, she clears her throat, sounding as if she’s fighting tears herself. “I’m going to buy you a melon pan. Just…wait for me here, okay?” It’s the only consolation she can offer you in this moment, huddled in a public restroom of a convenience store; you appreciate the effort, nonetheless. You wait for her to leave, completely alone now. As soon as she’s gone, you sob into your hands.

It's not that you oppose being a mother. You’ve always imagined handing a positive pregnancy test to the love of your life with the biggest smile on your face, excited to raise a family together. Ideally, this would have happened sometime in the future, once you’ve established yourself as a full-fledged adult. Not like this: twenty-one years-old, less than a year until graduation without the slightest clue what you’re doing with your life. Worst of all, the father isn’t your husband, a boyfriend, even a friend. It’s Toji Fushiguro, the dad of the little boy you babysat over the summer, the husband of the kind woman who hired you. You still haven’t forgiven yourself for your adultery, the guilt eating away at you since the start of that lecherous summer fling. And now, you have this pee-on-a-stick to remind you how incredibly reckless you were to get involved with him in the first place. How undeniably irresponsible you were to have unprotected sex with a married man. Sure, it was the best sex you’ll probably ever have in your life. But was it worth it?

You wrap the pregnancy test in toilet paper, tossing it in the trash bin. Knowing that no good will come out of sulking in the 7-11 bathroom any longer, you finally exit the stall, washing your hands clean at the sink. Your phone vibrates in your back pocket as you stare at your reflection in the mirror, fixated on your belly, wondering what it will look like round and full of life. It buzzes again, snapping you out of your trance. When you check to see who’s messaging, you almost drop your phone out of shock.

Somehow, someway, the universe has it out for you. Because in the most perfectly disastrous timing ever, Mrs. Fushiguro decides to contact you.

~~~

A week later, you’re sitting on the train, heading to the Fushiguro household. Your stomach is in knots, both from anxiety and from the morning sickness. Sweat beads on your forehead, skin sticky against your clothing in this hot weather. The closer you approach your destined stop, the more and more nervous you get, almost convinced to call the whole thing off.

Believe it or not, Mrs. Fushiguro did not contact you to confront you about the dirty deeds you did with her husband. Instead, she messaged you in dire need of a babysitter once again. She spares you the details, asking if you could meet her in person to better explain herself. And for whatever reason, you agree.

You haven’t come up with a solid plan yet on what you want to do about your little predicament. So far, the only people that know are Chiyo and your parents, who, after the initial shock of it all, have been surprisingly supportive. They advised you to take the rest of the term off, which you were able to get arranged quickly through your school. This gives you several weeks to decide what you need to do. With one issue resolved, it leaves you with the next, and the most pressing: whether or not you should tell the father. The last thing you want is to break apart the Fushiguro family. You’re fully prepared to raise this baby as a single mother, which, with the help of your parents and best friend, seems doable. Besides, you’re not even sure if you want Toji to be involved considering his complete lack of interest in his other child, Megumi. Despite that, you believe that as the father, he has the right to know. Can you gather the courage to actually tell him?

Still lost in your train of thought, you hop off to walk to the house. When you arrive, you spot Mrs. Fushiguro already outside, leaning against her car in the driveway with little Megumi in her arms. They both smile upon seeing you, warming your heart. You take a deep breath, bracing yourself for whatever is to come. 

“Hello Mrs. Fushiguro,” you greet her, bowing politely, too shy to meet her gaze. “How are you?”

“Doing really well. Thank you for coming on such short notice.” She lets her son down, who steps towards you until he’s hugging your knee, cooing. “I wanted to talk to you in person about my complicated situation.”

“Is everything alright?” you ask, unable to resist kneeling down to meet Megumi at eye level, making funny faces at him.

She giggles. “Oh, everything is great! The divorce finally went through and I’m living with my new boyfriend now, who’s been the absolute best, especially with Megumi.”

You make a shocked expression, mouth agape, exaggerated for the kid’s entertainment, though you’re pretty much stunned yourself. “Divorce…?”

“Yeah! Toji and I have been separated for a long time now. I’m sorry I didn’t mention that over the summer. You’re still so young after all, no need to rope you into adult things.”

You almost bust out laughing at the irony, but you hold your tongue, continuing to listen to her.

She sighs, flipping her long, beautiful hair behind her shoulders. “That being said, I still care about the guy. I mean, he is the father of my child. Without me or Megumi there on a regular basis, the whole house has gone to shit. It seems like he’s actually taking this divorce pretty hard. So, I want to hire you as a babysitter for my ex-husband. Just for a little while until he can get back up on his feet.”

Another shocked face, which makes Megumi laugh while dread sinks into your chest. “Babysitter…?”

“Babysitter, housekeeper, whatever you want to call it. You did such a wonderful job with him over the summer, even while you were taking care of Megumi! I don’t know what you were feeding him. Whatever it was, he was definitely a little bit nicer when you were around.”

Lewd flashbacks replay in your mind of Toji eating you out sloppily, slurping up all your pussy juices in every room of the house. You focus on the ground, too ashamed to look at her. “Mrs. Fushiguro, I don’t know if I can do this.”

She squats to your level, reaching for your hand, holding it gently in hers. “I know this is a lot of ask. You’re the only one I can rely on for this. Please.”

A sense of déjà vu hits you. There’s desperation in her tone and it tugs at your heartstrings the same way it did when you first met her a few months ago. It doesn’t help that Megumi is now squeezing the index finger of your other hand, eyes full of curious wonder, grip surprisingly strong for such a young child. Would she be pleading with you like this if she knew the truth about you, Toji, and the baby? Even though they were separated during this whole ordeal, it doesn’t make what you did any better; you still decided to do it regardless of their marital status.

Maybe you can use this opportunity as a way to atone.  

You finally look at her, giving the most convincing smile you can muster, trying your best to ignore the wave of nausea washing over you. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

~~~

Mrs. Fushiguro asks you to start at noon the following day, giving her enough time to notify her ex about your temporary employment. When you use the set of keys she gave you to open the front door, you step inside cautiously, not sure what to expect. You’ve been dreading this impromptu reunion all night, wondering if you could even face him.

It’s a mess inside, heaps of dirty laundry scattered all over the furniture, fast food wrappers and empty ramen bowls littered on the kitchen counter. There’s a stench lingering in the stale air in here and you almost think the worse, but Mrs. Fushiguro had warned you about this. Seeing it in person is more heartbreaking than disgusting. Toji really is taking this divorce hard. It wouldn’t be right to burden him with more life-changing news, right?

You begin by gathering all the trash into garbage bags, flattening any cardboard to recycle. By the looks of it, he’s been living off junk food and protein bars for the past month. The refrigerator is near empty, aside from a questionable take-out container in the very back, which you end up dumping along with everything else. You make it your next task to get groceries after you load the washing machine.

When you return from the store, Toji remains absent. Nerves prevent you from leaning against the bedroom door to listen for any signs of him in there. His ex-wife mentioned that he goes out to gamble at the horse races whenever he’s short on cash, so it’s likely he’s there. Still, you’re anticipating his return, mentally preparing yourself for how you’ll behave around him. Given your current circumstances, you are serious about turning over a new leaf. No more funny business with him. Absolutely not.

It’s near dinnertime now and you’ve miraculously accomplished tidying the house and doing his laundry all within a few hours. You even managed to cook soup for dinner, full of hearty beef and fresh vegetables, something to provide nutrients compared to the processed food he’s been consuming lately. You’re stirring the pot when you hear keys jingle from outside the front door. He comes in, clad in a tight-fitting black shirt that accentuates his muscles and grey sweatpants that don't leave much to the imagination. A plastic bag is slung behind his shoulder, clearly from a convenience store. Despite his concerning diet, his physique is still impressive as ever. Just one glance at him has you fluttering below your belly, replaying the erotic memories you share together. You turn to face him, standing up straight, feigning confidence while you fret internally. He looks at you, brow raised slightly, a small smirk forming on his lips.

“Hello sir,” you greet him, bowing politely. Acting as if he’s a total stranger and not the man who rocked your entire world over the summer, now with evidence to prove it.

He sets the bag on the counter, revealing a couple of ramen packets inside. “What’s with the formalities?” he asks, grinning. “If I remember correctly, you were screaming my name nonstop the last time you were here.”

Heat rushes into your cheeks instantly, not surprised by his vulgarity, though still embarrassed. You clear your throat, trying to stay strong. “I’m here to work. Nothing else.”

He walks towards you, his stature casting a daunting shadow as he steps closer and closer, towering over you. His voice is low, borderline threatening to a point that has you trembling. “So you don’t want me to fuck you anymore?”

You swallow hard, composure wavering. “That’s right.”  Even you don’t fully believe it when it comes out of your own mouth, how can you expect him to?

There’s a strange look in his eyes, almost like he’s disappointed by your response. He turns his back to you, mumbling something about taking a shower. You watch him enter his bedroom, hearing him clear as day before he shuts the door with a dull thud. “I guess you don’t want me either.”

~~~

A week into being Toji’s live-in housekeeper, the two of you figure out a routine together that involves minimal interaction. You wake up in the morning to cook breakfast, eating it quickly and leaving the rest for him while you go out. You use this time to go for a walk, meet with Chiyo or your parents, do some grocery shopping, or just sit at the nearby park, enjoying the sun with your baby, who grows little-by-little each day.

Toji is usually gone the whole afternoon, either working out or gambling, so you’re able to do chores back at the house, like cleaning his room. He doesn’t return until dinnertime when tension seems to be at its highest. A big reason for that is because he’s made it a habit to eat right after his shower, shirtless and with his legs crossed on the floor, displaying a perfectly visible outline of his manhood. It’s distracting, to say the least. Chiyo mentioned the other day how you can have an increased libido during the first trimester. That’s definitely proving itself now.

Aside from the half-nakedness, something else surprises you about him. The two of you mostly avoid conversation with each other, eating in silence at the dining table while sneaking furtive glances whenever you get a chance. But he never fails to mutter, “Thank you for the meal,” before washing the dishes at the sink, retreating back into his room when he’s done. It’s the tiniest act of consideration that makes you wonder what’s going on in his head.

Tonight you sit across from each other as usual. You just finished eating the chicken katsu you made for dinner, along with a couple of side dishes you prepped earlier in the week. His abs look especially spectacular today and you find it harder than usual to stop peeking at them.

“You’re gonna burn a hole through me with the way you’re staring,” he says, chewing his last bite.

Shit, caught red-handed. You quickly look down at your empty bowl, mumbling an apology. “Sorry. I just…I can tell your hard work is paying off.”

“Yours too. The house has never been cleaner. And the food has never been better.” He’s looking directly at you, a genuine smile on his face. “Thank you.”

It’s no good. Your hormones are raging, sexual desire courses through you, all from that stupidly handsome grin and a silly little compliment. How did you ever think you could resist him?

You stand up, grabbing everything from the table. “I’ll do the dishes,” you offer, walking them to the sink, trying to calm down.

It’s no use, though. He sees right through you.

He gives you only a minute alone before he follows you, caging you between his big arms, your back to him, his mouth hot on your ear. “Let me help you.”

You let out a frustrated huff, already unraveling from his proximity. The smallest jut of your hips and there it is, his erection pressed to your ass, throbbing and even more massive than you remember it. “Toji, we can’t,” you whine, not making any attempt to separate yourself from him.

He slides his hands around your hips, pulling you in closer, rubbing his rock-hard cock against you. “I know you want it. I know you want me.”

And he’s right. You do. You want him with you, around you, inside of you. In all the ways he’s had you before, in new ways he’s never had but you’ve fantasized about. There’s no denying it anymore. You want him. You want him so fucking bad.

He takes you right there at the kitchen sink, bent over with your grip tight on the edge of the counter, pounding away at your wet, needy cunt. Neither of you bother to remove your clothes completely, Toji’s sweatpants shrugged down his thighs just enough, yours pooled around your ankles, soaked panties at your knees. “Fuck, Toji!” you moan, sticking your ass out to meet his thrusts.

His fingers find your clit, rubbing slippery circles around it. “Say it,” he grunts, increasing the pace.

Drools leaks out from the sides of your lips, too fucked out to process what’s he’s asking you. “What?”

“Say you want me,” he demands, massaging your swollen bud so deep, you feel it all the way down to your fucking toes.

“I want you. I want you, Toji!” you respond breathlessly, squeezing him tight with your orgasm.

“Fuck, I missed you. Missed my good girl.” He continues to fuck you, slowly now, relishing every second of being inside you. “Always so fucking creamy for me, fuck.” He pulls you up to embrace you from behind, fingers still pleasuring you, his other hand at your chin to face you towards him. The two of you kiss passionately, lips smacking, tongues swirling. So sloppy and wanton that it puts you on the verge of another orgasm, completely succumbed to pleasure.

You sleep with him in his bedroom after several more orgasms and a big one of his own, wrapped comfortably in his arms, with his cock and creampie inside you the rest of the night. For the first time in a while, you’re oddly at peace.

~~~

Your reckless decision making has led you into another troublesome scenario. Fortunately, you haven’t had any morning sickness the entire first week of your employment at the Fushiguro household. Unfortunately, it decides to come back today. There’s no way you’ll be able to make it to the bathroom near your room, so you have no choice but to hop out of Toji’s bed and run into his, clutching onto the porcelain bowl until it’s all out. You rinse your mouth off at the sink, hoping Toji didn’t hear any of it. But you know all too well by now that luck is never on your side.

He’s sitting up against the headboard, watching you come out of the bathroom. “Did you just puke in there?” There’s a hint of concern in his normally blunt tone.

You nod, bending down to retrieve your underwear and pants off the floor, avoiding his gaze.

“Are you sick?” he asks, the worry even more obvious now.

Shaking your head, you respond, “No, I just…I’m feeling a little nauseous, that’s all.” You walk towards the door, still not willing to look at him. “There should be leftovers in the fridge, so help yourself to breakfast. I’m going to lay down.”

He calls out your name. “Wait – ”

You ignore him, closing the door shut behind you, letting the tears fall down your cheeks as you retreat into your own bedroom, muffling your sobs into a pillow. After your wild romp last night, this bout of morning sickness has swiftly brought you back to reality. You’re still harboring the secret growing in your womb from the man who gave it to you to begin with.

There’s a firm knock on your door, startling you. “Hey, it’s me.”

In this split-second, you decide to stop with the lies and finally tell the truth. You open the door, Toji standing in front of you fully clothed in his usual attire, a serious expression on his face. “What’s going on? Talk to me.”

Eyes still puffy from crying, you take a deep breath. “I’m pregnant. And you’re the father.”

His mouth parts the slightest bit, no words coming out of it. The silence seems to linger on forever. You fill it by rambling all the thoughts that have been swimming in your head the last couple of weeks. “Before you start freaking out or anything, I’m telling you so that you know. I don’t expect you to be involved. I’m perfectly willing to raise this child on my own. And besides, I won’t be completely alone. I have my family to help me, my friends too. I’ll be totally fine. This baby is going to be well taken care of, I’ll make sure of it. I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I just didn’t know how. But I feel better already because this has been stressing me out. It’s all going to work out okay? I think. I hope.”

After the long spiel, he stares down at the floor, jaw tight, mouth opening and closing, unsure how to respond. Eventually, he says, “I have to go.”

When he leaves the house, you crawl into your bed, bawling until there are no tears left for you to cry.

~~~

You wake up in the late afternoon to an enticing aroma wafting from the kitchen. It’s been hours since you’ve been in bed, moping about how poorly everything went with Toji. His reaction left you devastated. While you always expected to do this alone, hearing his negative response to it hurts more than you anticipated it to.

Curious, you make your way into the kitchen, shocked to find Toji standing over the stove, stirring a pot, the soothing scent of soup surrounding you. “What’s going on?” you ask, noticing a plethora of fresh vegetables laid out on the counter, along with a big bottle of prenatal vitamins and various snacks.

He turns the heat off, covering the pot with a lid. “I’m cooking,” he answers, facing you with a grin on his face. “Bone broth is a good source of calcium. And you need to keep eating lots of veggies so our baby is strong, like me. No more of this instant ramen shit.”

“I thought you were upset,” you say, stepping closer to him.  

“I know. I’m sorry I left like that. I was shocked at first, I’ll admit it. But I started to get excited." He takes your hands in his. "I have a lot of regrets in my life, but being a father isn’t one of them. Being a bad father is. I want to change. I need to change. For Megumi. For our new little one. For you.”

Strangely enough, you believe in his heartfelt declaration. You smile at him, letting him go to stand in front of the stove, taking a whiff of the comforting aroma of the hot soup he made for you, happy tears welling in your eyes. He hugs you gently from behind, nuzzling his nose to you. “I’m going to do it right this time, okay? I know I can do it with you.”

As Toji caresses your belly, kissing you softly along the neck, you feel the weight that’s been heavy on your shoulders ease up. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.

[highvern]

When in Rome

Pairing: Choi Seungcheol x f!reader

Genre: fluff, smut, angst

warnings: alcohol consumption, cheating, nudity, mentions of drug use, explicit sexual acts (unprotected sex, dirty talk, oral, swallowing)

Length: ~24k

Note: excited to have this for the @svthub world tour collab! thank u to @gyuswhore for helping, @wonuvs for fact checking my shitty italian, @the-boy-meets-evil for making sure i actually finished this fic bc i live to torture her and everyone else who contributed to this over the months it took me to finally write it!

this is from cheol's pov which was a new challenge but i loved it (i will never do it again). i'll be out of town when this goes up but can't wait to read everyone's feed back!!!

Summary: After months of no contact, Seungcheol isn't sure what to expect when he sees you again at Jeonghan's wedding. He's prepared to apologize, to grovel, to bear the weight of a cold shoulder. Whatever it takes to have you back, his best friend since diapers; or whatever will ensure the last third of your trio has the best day of his life. But when he overhears the most recent development in your relationship, he must come to terms with something he was never prepared for, or risk losing you for good.

m.list

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.

There are fewer places Seungcheol hates more than airports. Dentist offices, his grandparents’ house during the holidays when they ask about grandkids, and even the time he ran into his elementary school science teacher the first time he was buying condoms at the pharmacy, all were more favorable than the hustle and bustle of an international airport. 

Seungcheol likes to be straightforward and direct. Something that becomes seemingly at odds with the average person traveling because at the one place everyone has somewhere to be, they act as if they have all the time in the world.

But the simple thought that it's all temporary, that his personal ninth circle of hell is the only thing standing between him and a week in Italy is enough to grin and bear it. 

On the other side of the terminal, his best friends are waiting for him. It’s not as if they haven’t seen each other for long; Jeonghan and Sofie were at bar trivia last week as their last hurrah before tying the knot. As usual they wiped the floor with everyone, rousing several allegations of cheating that Jeonghan deserved. But Seungcheol is about to watch them get married and it makes him a little misty around the eyes because he loves his friends more than anything. 

The only concern, which is less of a concern and more of a titanic size anchor sinking in his gut, is that you’re one of Sofie’s bridesmaids. And you haven’t spoken to him since New Years when you revealed you were moving to New York with your boyfriend, Johnny.

Another place Seungcheol dreads, right next to the airport, is anywhere Johnny happens to be. He’s everything you aren’t: abrasive, arrogant, catty, disorganized. And those are just the traits at the front of the alphabet. 

You had a plan. A list of criteria he had to listen to over and over again after each failed date. Even the guys Seungcheol set you up with after carefully vetting didn’t seem to make the mark. It was respectable, commendable. You wouldn’t settle for anything less than “perfect.” Whatever that meant to you. 

At a bar, three years ago, Johnny approached you. Seungcheol watched from across the table as you mentally ran over your checklist. Johnny met the physical ones: tall, good hygiene, well kept appearance. The other things would need more investigation. What did he do for work? Was he close with his family? Kids? Opinions on cheating at bar trivia?

The more Seungcheol learned about Johnny after your detailed debrief from a few dates the more confused he became. Johnny worked in banking. You hated finance bros and called them scum of the dating pool. He was an only child and only talked to his parents on holidays and birthdays. You had grand dreams of close grandparents and houses full of cousins. He didn’t want kids. You did. He didn’t think bar trivia was that serious. Seungcheol watched you threaten Jeonghan’s life on more than one occasion over the use of Shazam during the music round. Johnny was everything you said you didn’t want. 

And then you followed him across the country after two years of dating cut with three breakups. 

It didn’t make sense. 

When Seungcheol pulled you aside after you announced you’d be moving, trying to figure why you thought living with the man who once asked if you really needed to wash bath towels if you only use them when you’re already clean, you told him to mind his business. Later that night, after enough drinks to make everything blurry, you two got into a screaming match on the sidewalk with your shared friends attempting to play referee. It was the last time you two spoke. 

In over twenty five years of friendship, founded on the backs of elementary school shenanigans under a reign of terror of one Jeonghan Yoon, you and Seungcheol’s real fights can be counted on one hand. 

The sixth grade field trip where you and Jeonghan left him out, senior year of highschool when the girl Seungcheol took to prom argued about his parents taking more pictures with you than her, and junior year of college when Seungcheol caught you making out with his frat brother after ditching him under the guise of having a stomach bug. That was it. Three fights, all of which were resolved within a week because as stubborn as you both are, you’re best friends. 

Five and a half months of not speaking, except when you called Seungcheol in the middle of the night without leaving a message and when he tried calling you back in the morning you didn’t answer. Not until a month later when he finally swallowed his pride and texted a half hearted apology to which you responded with a quarter of forgiveness. That was it. 

But Seungcheol won’t dwell. He refuses to make things awkward for Jeonghan and Sofie during the most special week of their lives. Knowing you, you’ve probably already come to the same resolution. The only person you’re closer to than Seungcheol is Jeonghan with Sofie a close second. If there is anyone you two will agree to put aside an argument for, it's them.

The sun has already begun setting when he makes it through customs and out towards the Arrivals, painting everything in buttery yellow. 

“SEUNGCHEOOOOOOOOOLLLLLL!” Sofie screams, hands cupped around her mouth.

She’s half outside the cherry red sports car. An Intermeccanica Italia Spyder because Seungcheol knows three things in life: expensive watches, expensive whiskey, and expensive cars. Sofie’s family happened to have plenty of the last and Seungcheol assumed the first two as well.

When Sofie became his study partner in law school she ended up following him on Instagram. He assumed from the way she carried herself, perfect posture with tailored clothes and an ‘air of society’ as you called it, that she was well off. But then, during a late night gossip session, you and he did a deep dive and found out Sofie wasn’t just well off. Her family had more money than God. 

But everything on the surface was a contrast to who Sofie really was. Heiress to a fortune but studied more than anyone in their class just to graduate second. Perfect posture and tailored clothes are a stark contrast to her favorite bar where she’d outdrink anyone, and cheer when the prize for trivia was cheap plastic margarita glasses.

Or right now, where she belts Seungcheol’s name again like some drunk frat boy while sitting in a car worth more than his life.

Seungcheol jogs to where she waits, already smiling. 

“I would have brought a ‘Welcome back from rehab’ sign but my mom thought you’d be embarrassed,” Sofie says as she hugs him over the console. 

“At least make it ‘welcome home from prison’ so people won’t walk in my way.”

“I’ll make sure Jeonghan remembers you have a preference,” she calls over the wind. 

Technically, the house (which is really a mansion) is almost an hour from the airport. With Sofie’s driving it only takes twenty minutes in which Seungcheol thinks he might need to start going to church. 

The pebbled driveway crunches underneath the tires as they approach the imposing building he’d call home for the weekend.

In the evening light, the house is more daunting. An imposing stone facade rises from the ground, akin to a small castle than an actual home. Smooth stone with detailed carvings, windows with huge shutters, and on the top floor, a balcony, fenced with wrought iron, juts out.

Even after years of seeing pictures, Seungcheol still can’t believe his friend grew up here. He can’t believe it actually exists and isn’t some set from a historical drama.

Sofie throws the car in park right in front of the door before jumping out. 

“By the way, there were some issues with one of the rooms.” Sofie drops her voice, “My aunt and uncle are fighting again, so I hope you don’t mind sharing?”

Seungcheol knows most of the guys coming to the wedding. Worst case scenario he’s stuck in a twin size bunk bed with a weird cousin. And with how busy he’ll be as best man, his room will be for sleep and not much else. “Yeah, that’s fine.”

“Perfect! Just leave your stuff, everyones out back.” Sofie pushes him as hard as she can manage which isn’t much at all given she’s five foot nothing. 

The garden is filled with bodies upon bodies crowded together, some old, some young. Seungcheol recognizes a few faces in the mix: Soonyoung, Joshua, Seungkwan. More friends from law school. Jeonghan’s sister waves from across the way. Everyone seems to be paying attention to whatever is happening at the iron garden table. 

And then, like a scene in a movie, everyone parts for a second and time freezes. 

Seungcheol would recognize you anywhere. Even if he can’t see your face, he knows it's you. The curve of your shoulders, the tilt of your head. The bark of laughter as your chin drops forward. He knows it's you and the weight in his stomach lightens and leadens in an odd cycle.

He missed you.

Then everything comes back into real time. Wine and cards. Then he sees the chips on the table, your stack to the side significantly higher than anyone else's. 

Months of ruminating over what he’d do when reunited fly out the window. Seungcheol doesn’t waste a minute as he approaches, hand on the back of your chair as he peeks over your head to sneak a glance at your hand.

“Who let you talk them into poker?”

You’re already smiling when you tilt back to look at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Oh, how he missed you.

“She said she didn’t know how to play,” an old man grumbles from the side. 

Seungcheol doesn’t recognize him but he’s got the same expression as all the people you’ve sharked before: mildly impressed and slightly murderous. Two other guys sit at the table, one old enough to be his grandfather looks almost proud. Seokmin fills that last seat, head in his hands at being swindled so easily. 

“I said,” you start, throwing your gaze to him. “I hadn’t played in a while.” 

You look back up at Seungcheol for some kind of support. Eyes round and innocent in a way you both know you’re not. Pool, cards, darts, any game a man a few drinks in could beat you at was easy fodder for your con. Usually it ended with free drinks, sometimes money, but mostly it’s Seungcheol playing referee for the disillusioned guys you swindled while wearing a bright grin. 

Tossing a few chips towards the three men at table with a smart ‘don’t spend it all in one place,’ you rise and throw your arms around Seungcheol like everything is normal. 

“Hi,” you whisper into his neck.

Seungcheol’s hands are already curled around your waist, pulling you in tight. “Hi.”

“I missed you.”

Seungcheol doesn’t think to question the sudden rush of familiarity after months of silence. Every fight in your long friendship ended this way; you both stew and stew until one day things snap back to normal. It’s how it’s always been.

“I see that you can’t even greet your best friend.” Jeonghan coughs from the side.

Seungcheol squeezes you tighter at the jab. It’s Jeonghan’s wedding but Seungcheol saw him last week when dropping the couple off at the airport to come here. He’s far more interested in dragging out his reunion with you as long as possible. “I’m in the middle of that actually.”

He scoffs in response, walking away. “Whatever, I see too much of you anyway.” 

There’s glasses of wine waiting when you break apart. Seungcheol keeps closeby, not that you seem eager to go anywhere. His staring is obvious but he doesn’t care. You’re really here and the cold shoulder he expected to find is nowhere to be found.

Another two hours of celebrating, filled with drunken toasts and more card games with Sofie’s family that only end with you digging into their pockets even deeper, fly by before the exhaustion of a day starting in one continent and ending in another catches up to him. You’re too busy arguing over if Jeonghan cheated in the last round to notice Seungcheol slipping away from the table and towards the door leading inside.

Sofie is in the kitchen just beyond, another bottle of wine sloshing in hand as she talks animatedly on the phone. “Okay, look. I am on vacation. I’m about to get married. I literally left notes for everything I'm not working on during my wedding week. Figure it out. Bye.”

She hangs up without response, tossing her phone on the counter before taking a swig straight from the bottle.

“Good?” Seungcheol asks.

“Oh, you know, just the usual. I leave and suddenly no one knows how to do their job.” Sofie rolls her eyes. “What’s up? Need another glass?”

She raises the same bottle and the thought of more wine nearly turns his stomach.  

Seungcheol brushes her off, moving to the sink and rinsing his glass with finality. “I think I’m gonna crash for the night.”

“Really?” she asks. “But the party just started!”

“For you maybe, some of us have been cramped on a plane all day.” He feels it. In his back and knees. The cramp in his neck from passing out halfway through and waking up bent at ninety degrees. And the hours he spent agonizing through emails with the inflight WiFi because even on vacation he can’t sit still for more than one minute. But now it’s a ticking time bomb before he curls up in a chair and passes out until morning.

Sofie snatches his glass before shooing him away from the sink and taking his place. “I forgot you’re an old man now.”

“You’re the same age as me?”

“Anyway,” she sings. “I know we promised you’d have your own room but—”

“That’s fine. I really don’t mind rooming with one of the guys.”

“Well… you and Y/N were the only ones not sharing and she said she wouldn’t mind for the weekend.”

“Huh?”

“I thought it wouldn’t be a big deal! Seokmin and Kwan agreed to share and room with Josh so things are pretty tight but I can see if we can switch things around and—”

“No, if she’s okay with it then it's fine.” Seungcheol says. “We just haven’t talked since, you know?”

Sofie seems to soften at that. “I know. But it looked like everything was fine outside.”

“Yeah,” Seungcheol sighs. “I missed her.” 

“I know she missed you too.”

“She said that?”

“Oh please, neither of you have to say anything, you’re both pathetic,” she says while pouring another glass. “But I think this weekend will be good for you guys! Like old times.”

Old times. Before the fight. Before you moved away.

“Yeah, just like old times… At least we aren’t sharing a bed, right?” He jokes. 

“Actually,” Sofie grimaces. 

The one solace Seungcheol is gifted is the bed is massive. Almost the entire room is dominated by the plush mattress, a dresser, and a chair in the corner. He considers sleeping in that instead for all of a minute before realizing you probably wouldn’t let him and the absolute torture it’ll do to his neck. 

At least the forced proximity won’t be awkward since you’ve silently agreed to leave the past behind you. He can’t imagine Sofie would consider this solution if you were still mad at him, even if it was her wedding week. The realization lightens the weight on his shoulders an ounce more.

Seungcheol throws his bag down at the foot of the bed. It’s no big deal; sharing a room with you. Childhood sleepovers had been the norm, a few nights in college you’d shared a clunky old twin bed when you both were too drunk to find your ways home separately. Your first apartment together, when you two had to share a mattress on the floor for the first weeks because all your money went into paying rent, flash in his head. Old times.

Thirty minutes later, freshly showered and in clean clothes, Seungcheol heads back downstairs for a glass of water before bed.

He remembers where the kitchen is after Sofie’s short tour, trapezing through the huge house easily. Behind different closed doors he catches glimpses of pre-sleep conversations: couples spitting harsh whispers to each other, a few cartoonish voices reading bedtime stories to an audience of childish giggles. But when he reaches the threshold of his destination Seungcheol stumbles into an entirely different atmosphere.

“You haven’t told him yet?”

“No. I didn’t feel like the kind of thing to say over text,” you whisper.

“Well you could have called him!”

“And say what? ‘Hey Cheol, I know we haven’t talked in months because we got into a huge fight about my boyfriend but Johnny and I–’”

Seungcheol strains his ears to hear the rest of your sentence but fails to decipher anything before Jeonghan’s voice cuts in. Whatever ‘it’ is, you seem keen on keeping it a secret.

“Just tell him.” Jeonghan says through a mouthful of something. “I’m sure he’ll be happy.”

His mind races with a million possibilities, all related to Johnny, all things you wouldn’t have told your best friend of over twenty years because of some stupid fight. Something you don’t know how to tell him over the phone, something you need to tell in person.

The realization strikes like lightning.

You and Johnny are engaged.

Thirst forgotten, Seungcheol turns back the way he came. He thinks through the new information as he stumbles up the stairs.

How could you not tell him? How could he make you feel like you couldn’t tell him? How long have you been hiding this? And why did Jeonghan and Sofie know before he did? Was everyone in on the secret and he was the odd man out?

You and Johnny weren’t even that serious when you moved away; or, that's what Seungcheol thought. In all honesty he fully believed it was some joke when you told him. A drunken practical joke taken too far but you didn’t laugh when he did. There was no punchline to share. The boxes were packed away and then the moving truck came and you left with it. 

Everything else hits him in the seclusion of the bedroom. Your shared room. He doesn’t even have the luxury of coming to terms with your latest surprise in private. 

Seungcheol isn’t happy. He is, but because you’re you, argument aside. The past few months are the longest you’ve ever gone without each other and seeing you again lifted a weight off his chest he’d come accustomed to in months of silence. 

It’s an easy decision. If Johnny makes you happy enough to tie your lives together then Seungcheol can bite his tongue. You’re his best friend and by default he’d never think anyone was good enough for you but if you loved Johnny, if you were this serious about him, then Seungcheol would support you.

Even if it meant there would always be a Johnny sized ravine between you.

Seungcheol wakes far before the sun breaches the horizon. The room still washed in the shadows of early dawn grants him some peace to think over his own conflicts with the news, your quiet snores a backing track from across the bed.

On your side facing him, Seungcheol gets the first good look at you in what feels like forever. Even with the size of the bed barely a foot of space separates your bodies. You hand twisted in the hem of his shirt like even in your sleep you can’t stand to be apart more than necessary.

You look ridiculous; hair a mess and limbs splayed. But your face is soft in sleep, eyelashes fanned on your cheeks and lips in a pout. 

There’s an odd flutter in his stomach. He wasn't lying when he said he missed you. But now things are complicated. 

He hadn’t slept at all last night; mind constantly replaying the conversation he heard in the kitchen, formulating his reaction when you finally let him in on the ‘surprise.’

Perhaps under different circumstances he wouldn’t struggle with news. Seungcheol wants you to be happy. Johnny is the problem in the scenario. They never got along, barely spoke outside of the few times forced circumstances required them to. Seungcheol was polite. Johnny was polite. 

Seungcheol wanted to kill him and he’s certain Johnny felt the same.

Relationships naturally take priority over time but Johnny seemed to creep in and choke Seungcheol out of all the places he’d been firmly planted for years. Another reason he isn’t happy.

Monday night Bachelor? Canceled, because Johnny plays beer league softball with his friends and you started going to that.

No more sleepovers at Seungcheol’s after a night out because ‘it makes Johnny uncomfortable.’ Fair complaint. Seungcheol wouldn’t appreciate his girlfriend sleeping over at a guy's house after drinking if the roles were reversed. But Seungcheol isn’t some guy and you were his best friend before you were Johnny’s girlfriend.

Traditions at Christmas felt hollow without you. The first one you spent meeting Johnny’s family in Minnesota you texted Seungcheol the entire time about how cold it was, how they were a 5k on a holiday type family despite the fact there was three feet of snow outside. 

All small details that mean everything to Seungcheol, never meant as much to you. 

And that’s why he doesn’t like Johnny. Because he made Seungcheol realize that.

It’s not that you and Johnny didn’t work. Seungcheol just couldn’t wrap his head around why you wanted to overlook all the glaring differences to make it work.

But pointing that out left him with a cold shoulder lasting six months so he plans to keep his mouth shut.

You tried talking to him before bed but gave up when he pretended to be asleep. It took everything he had not to give in and talk into the early morning. Six months was more than enough ground to cover for you two to catch up; he was promoted, you had an entirely new life in another city that he wanted to hear all about. His insane neighbor from across the hall, who you both are sure sells drugs, is actually a preschool teacher (mysteries of the universe). And he knows you probably have kooky neighbors of your own in New York.

But, in all honesty, he didn’t want to hear stories with Johnny’s name attached. Wasn’t ready to hear you say you’re engaged. It’s one thing to know it. But the second the words leave your lips then it’s real. Then Johnny is here to stay and it's only a matter of time before you two are arguing again.

Especially when everything said months ago was still fresh in his mind. Words he’d stand by no matter what. But Seungcheol has figured out that there are conversations he’s allowed to have with you and ones that should never see the light of day if your friendship is to survive. Johnny is one, the other is a memory from college that remains vivid no matter how hard he tries to forget.

But this weekend wasn’t about you and him, it's about Sofie and Jeonghan. If Seungcheol can dive into focusing on them, maybe he’ll survive.

Today is the one day reserved for sightseeing before ‘the inevitably disorganized shit show of an Italian wedding’ as Sofie puts it. 

Seungcheol has already seen some of the big things thanks to his study abroad in undergrad: the Colosseum, the Trevi Fountain, the Pantheon. So for today, he'll stick by whatever you want to do. You’re the building nerd architect.

When he finally finds the willpower to roll away, carefully extracting your grip on him before ducking from the sheets, you stir enough to release a sleepy whine in protest before burying back under the blanket. 

It’s odd but he notices you’re not wearing a ring. Seungcheol looked closely if you took it off before bed but nothing stands out in the bathroom or on the dresser. He assumes you took it off to make the weekend about Sofie and Jeonghan rather than yourself. It’s something you would do. Or maybe it’s at the jeweler’s for repairs. Maybe Johnny had gaudy taste and bought a ring so flashy you refused to wear it. 

Seungcheol doesn’t know but it strikes him as strange.

The kitchen is already bustling with life even at such an early hour. Family and friends trickle in one by one, joining Seungcheol at the table with cups of coffee and munching on fruit and biscuits as their hangovers ebb. Quickly, the peace he preserved in the early quiet melts into loud laughter and a million buzzing conversations.

You melt into the chair beside him, eyes barely open as you snag his cup and scowl after finding it already drained.

“Coffee?” you mumble.

Seungcheol pushes his plate of unfinished fruit and a half finished pastry you way. “Sofie’s mom is brewing more. But it’s strong.”

“Oh trust me, I know,” you say around a mouthful of jam and dough. “I drank a full cup the first day I got here and felt like Sonic.”

“That’s how you know it’s good.”

“You’re insane.”

“What are your plans for today?”

“So there's this church, the Santa Maria Sopra della Minerva. It’s near the Pantheon!” you ramble, peeling another orange. “It’s just beautiful and it's got a statue by Michelangelo next to the altar and the design is incredible.”

Seungcheol can’t help but laugh at your enthusiasm. A city filled with ancient buildings and history is right up your alley. 

He remembers how you pouted when he came back from his trip in college after yours to Venice was canceled due to ‘not enough student interest.’ The only thing that managed to quell your anger was all the pictures Seungcheol took with you in mind. Close ups of the tiniest details about ancient designs tour guides pointed out to disinterested business majors but he knew you’d care if you’d been there. If you were there then you’d probably be leading the tour yourself whether the guide liked it or not.

“Mind if I come with?” he asks over his fresh cup of coffee.

“Duh,” you roll your eyes with a smile. “I waited for you to get here to go.”

Sofie’s uncle, the one not under threat of murder by his wife, agrees to drive you both out. He drives at full speed from the second he hits the gas pedal. With the windows down. The breeze is as nice as a wind tunnel and cuts off everything Zio Berto tries to point out except for his screams at other drivers. 

On the other side of the back seat, you’re turning green. Seungcheol is glad the window is already down because if you get sick, he will too. And Sofie would refuse any payment for the cleaning fee, Seungcheol is morally opposed to ruining such a nice car with vomit.

The city whips past outside the windows, cobblestone streets slowly growing more crowded as the car edges closer to the center city. Berto finally slows down to avoid pedestrians and mopeds but only by a fraction. He doesn’t seem to share Seungcheol’s concern about body fluids clashing with the car design.

Finally, after what feels like a century, the car jerks to a stop. You don’t even pretend to be polite and exit immediately, hands on your knees while dry heaving for air.

“I’ll be around. Have fun!” Berto calls from the driver's seat. “Call me when you’re ready to head back.”

Seungcheol waves him off and when he turns back where you were standing, you’re already gone; circling the elephant obelisk in the center of the cobblestone courtyard.

“Isn’t it so cool?” You gush, snapping photos.

The exterior of the building is unassuming. Flat sandstone brick without much detail but you see the things that are important. In a few minutes you’ll be in tour guide mode, pointing out the smallest crack no one would see unless they already studied the church's history in depth.

“Soooo cool,” he jests. He appraises the statue with you, turning his head this way and that. 

You slap his shoulder, “Don’t be a jerk!”

“Okay, okay. Give me the tour.”

“It was built on the ruins of a temple of Isis.”

“Okay, and why the elephant?”

“The obelisk was taken from the Church of San Stefano del Cacco down that way,” you point. “It's originally from Sais in Egypt but got moved all the way here. The elephant was commissioned by the pope to display it based on a book that was popular at the time.”

“Interesting.” 

You point at the inscription on the plinth before continuing, “that’s from the book.”

Sapientis Aegypti insculptas obelisco figuras ab elephanto, belluarum fortissima, gestari quisquis hic vides, documentum intellege robustae mentis esse solidam sapientiam sustinere.

“Whoever you are, who sees here the figures of the Egyptian wise man carved on the obelisk carried by the elephant, the strongest of wild animals, understand the symbolism to be that a strong mind supports firm wisdom,” you translate. 

“I didn’t know you read latin.”

“I don’t. It’s in English on the other side,” you laugh. “But I do know, the guy who designed the statue made it look like it's farting because the pope told him to change the design from what he originally wanted.”

“Really?”

“Yep. He said having it stand on four legs was dangerous so the sculptor added the saddle and a cube at the base, but he also made its butt face the convent so the friars would have to see its ass every time they came out.”

“Wow.”

Seungcheol circles the statue and sure enough the tail is angled to look like it's blowing wind.

“I’m pretty sure it’s a lie but I’d like to think people were that petty hundreds of years ago. Now all people do is subtweet and post vague Instagram stories. I want someone to hate me so much they design an entire statue just to minorly inconvenience me each morning.”

You’re fully of facts Seungcheol would never know. It’s one of the best parts of visiting places with you. It’s not just some building or some random statue. You give the architecture a new life.

Seungcheol’s mind flashes back to the first time he accompanied you and Johnny to a monument back home. In the five minutes you’d been there, he realized Johnny truly did not care about your interests.

The look on your face that day told him you realized Johnny didn’t care either.

It’s the same pact everyone that moves to D.C. makes to visit all the museums and monuments and landmarks. Good intentions with zero realistic goals. Except you’re stubborn and the drive to say you did something means Seungcheol has tagged along to thirty out of the one hundred and fifteen on your list. Johnny missed most either from work trips or some other excuse and the one Seungcheol missed had been the only one Johnny came to because of the flu.

Safe to say the first time visiting together was a shit show. Johnny didn’t pretend to evaluate the ‘important’ parts, didn’t ask questions or bother reading the placards detailing events of significance, raced through the entire thing to leave you and Seungcheol behind. It’s not like you or Seungcheol were overwhelmed with beauty and needed hours but Johnny finished his round after less than thirty minutes and told you to text him when you were done. 

So Seungcheol did the only thing he could to get back at Johnny without upsetting you: walked as slow as possible, pointing out things he knew you’d know more about, and dragging things out so Johnny was stuck waiting in the frigid winter wind outside to suffer.

You knew what he was doing, obvious from the way you hook your arm through his and give an affection squeeze. Your smile didn’t reach your eyes but you both pushed through.

Thank whatever powers be that Johnny wasn’t here now.

“See the windows?” you ask, pointing to the three different sized circular windows hanging over the main doorways. 

“Yeah,” he nods.

“Well you can’t tell from here but they’re rose tinted.”

Seungcheol tries to see what you’re talking about but the windows are dark and covered in some kind of lacquer that makes them look gray and dusty rather than pink.

“And why is that important, Professor Y/L/N?”

“Because it’s the only medieval church in Rome like that!” 

You continue rambling off facts, talking a mile a minute as your point at different things and walk Seungcheol around the exterior. A few other people's ears perk up as you go on about how the details had been done over and over; first Romanesque, then Gothic then, some guy named Carlo Maderno added Baroque designs inside, and friars who put in stained glass windows.

By the time you take a breath, the crowd has taken a closer interest in the windows and the elephant statue due to your brief history. A few look at the flood plaques which are some of the best preserved records the city has.

Seungcheol hangs onto every word. He doesn’t care about the old church, it’s an interesting bit of history sure but he could be outside any church in Rome and have the same reaction. He cares about the church because you care. And your passion about old windows and flood markers make it the most interesting place in the world right now.

“Go stand on the steps so I can take your picture,” you demand.

“Do I have to?” Seungcheol jokingly complains.

“Just go.”

Seungcheol poses as you direct, flashing a few silly poses you laugh at. He manages to wrangle you into taking a few photos as well. Ones that will probably be sent to your mom and never see the light of day other than her Facebook. Your Instagram is reserved for, in order: buildings, animals, food, and the rare picture of you with friends at some sort of occasion (wedding, graduation, the time Jeonghan broke his leg drunk on a city scooter and ended up in the ER). 

You’re in the middle of pretending to hold the Leaning Tower of Pisa when someone approaches Seungcheol.

“Would you like us to take your photo?” an elderly woman asks. She is a quintessential tourist: fanny pack, camera around her neck, sun burnt around the ears. A man in a matching shirt approaches with her, donning the same gear and pink tinge. Seungcheol recognizes them from a few minutes prior when you gave your lecture about elephant butts and petty sculptors.

“Sure, thank you.”

He hands over his phone and joins you on the steps. You both pose like normal adults, smiles plastered on your face while Seungcheol gives you bunny ears and you pull his hair.

“Beautiful couple!”

“Oh, we’re not…” You both object.

“We’re on our second honeymoon.” The man croons at his wife, chuffed when she rolls her eyes and focuses on the camera screen. “You two?”

“We’re here for a wedding.”

“Wow! Married in Rome,” the wife gasps. “How romantic.”

It isn’t the first time you two have been mistaken for a couple. Anytime you’re with him or Jeonghan someone assumes you’re dating. Occasionally, you’d play it up, make an entire story about how you met, how long you’ve been together, biting your tongues the entire time as each detail is more ludicrous than the last.

Jeonghan takes the cake as the most ridiculous. Two tornado chasers that ran into each other ten years ago and never let go. Him and Seungcheol, not you. Which really threw the waitress off. Never mind the fact you all were sophomores in college, high as kites and stuffing yourselves full of hashbrowns in a greasy spoon diner for Seungcheol’s birthday.

“Did you two meet here?” the husband asks.

“Oh no, we actually met in a competitive bowling league,” you fib, wrapping your arm through Seungcheol’s.

What the hell?

“Romantic!” The wife belts like she actually believes nothing could inspire love like sharing shoes with countless strangers and cheap beer.

Seungcheol would take the piss under any other circumstances. Except this time you’re actually engaged and the last time you two pretend to be a couple was when you fake proposed to him in a fancy restaurant to score free champagne and dessert to celebrate the end of law school.

“Would you mind taking a few of us?” the man asks.

You snap a few pictures on the wife’s phone and after more coos of ‘romantic!’ and a few thank yous they melt into the crowd.

“Alright, let's go inside.”

“Lead the way.” Seungcheol feels more awkward than before, cheeks red but not from the sun beating down

Upon entering the church, he discovers the inside is much more interesting than the outside. Holy water stoups are held up by marble. Two statues flank the entrance. There’s more things to see than Seungcheol’s brain can handle but he follows behind you, mind lingering on the scene outside.

“‘My husband’?” Seungcheol asks.

“What? We won’t see them again. Who cares?”

Probably your own fiancé but just as Seungcheol opens his mouth a priest silences him with a sharp, “SHH!”

Passing through a high stone archway, you enter the nave. The ceiling, cobalt and gold with motifs of  biblical figures and cherubs, rises high above. 

“Look!” you whisper. “Isn’t it cool?”

Your point at a marble Jesus wearing a bronze loin cloth.

Cool isn’t the word he’d choose but he goes with it.

“Michelangelo started it but two other people had to finish it for him.”

“Oh.”

“But people still call it Michelangelo’s statue because it’s more impressive. Besides, he did most of it before his apprentice took over.”

He observes the paintings and statues, the stone work that bulges from the walls like they’re trying to come alive and escape their immortal capture. There’s even a tomb and shrine with incredible detail. 

It takes two hours to see everything and another thirty minutes to make your way out of the church because you both keep catching missed signs or there's some tiny piece of the ceiling with an odd detail.

He missed this.

Outside, you open your phone and look at the message from Sofie. She made the recommendation to come down here and gave an extensive list of everything else to be done in the area. There’s so many options it would take at least a week to see half of them.

“This hotel has a rooftop restaurant that’s supposed to have a good view of St. Peters,” you say.

The restaurant would have a great view of the city, if it wasn’t shut down for renovations. The staff don’t even let you near the elevator before you’re both swept outside and back on the street.

“Well…” Seungcheol starts.

“Should we call Berto?”

He doesn’t want to. Partially because Berto’s driving might kill him and also because he doesn’t want to end his time with you just yet. One of the things he missed about you living in the same city was weekends in museums for hours. Now that he has it again, he hesitates to cut the time short.

“Wait, I think we’re near one of the parks we visited when I came in college.”

“Oh my god,” you gasp sarcastically. “Did you study abroad? I never knew!”

“Shut up.”

Seungcheol pulls out his phone and dials Berto’s number. “Hey, Berto. No, we're good, everything is fine. But I was wondering how far away is Villa Borghese from us? Oh really? Would you be able to come drop us off? Awesome. Thanks man.”

“Well?”

“He’ll be here in five.”

Five minutes turns into fifteen and in that time Seungcheol burns out. Jetlag and the dull thrums of city streets make him sleepy. You sit in front of him on a bench outside the church. He thought he was better at hiding it but he’s pretty sure if he sits down, he’ll fall asleep.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” you ask once Berto arrives. “We can go back to the house if you want.”

There’s an unofficial official itinerary for today.

Anything before four is fair game. After that there is a welcome cocktail party at a fancy restaurant in the city one of the De Luca’s family friends own.

If Seungcheol doesn’t go home now then it’ll be a close call to nap and shower in time. Not that Sofie is exceptionally punctual about things like that but Seungcheol is.

“I don’t want you not to see stuff just because I’m tired.”

“Cheol, I’ve been here all week with Sofie and Han. I promise this was the only thing left on my list of stuff to do. Anything else would have been a bonus.”

“Only if you're sure.”

“We can always come back again. I’m pretty sure Sofie’s mom is decorating a room for me.”

Yeah, because most men are fine with their fiancée taking international trips with another man. Not that you’d listen or Johnny has the balls to say something about it. But Seungcheol knows the chances of coming back here together, like this, are slim to nonexistent.

“Alright. But you can’t bring it up in an argument.”

“I can and I will.” The corner of you mouth twitches as your head shakes before opening the back seat for him. “Now get in the car, old-timer.” 

Seungcheol falls asleep on your shoulder in a blink. Berto is quiet (or the open windows drown him out enough that Seungcheol can pretend) and the heat of your body next to his lulls his heart. It’s not a peaceful rest and his neck is killing him by the time Berto pulls into the driveway, but it’s nice.

Seungcheol beelines for the bathroom while you slip into the kitchen. Something about centerpieces or napkins or tablecloths; he isn’t really sure but Sofie’s mom says it's urgent so he goes upstairs alone, showers in record time, and dives under the covers.

His dreams are filled with blue and gold elephants, He wakes to the sound of your voice blended with the sound of water.

You’re singing. More so humming some off key melody that bounces off the shower tiles and echoes straight into his brain. It drags him in that liminal space between waking and dreaming where anything is possible. Maybe he’s still dreaming. Of you and him, back when you shared an apartment and things weren’t so complicated. When there weren’t secrets and omissions and he didn’t have to bite his tongue.

His eyes stay closed, refusing to budge until the last minute.

The shower turns off but the humming continues, louder now that you’re out of the bathroom and collecting your things.

You must think Seungcheol is still asleep because when his eyes slit open, only enough to decipher your hazy silhouette, you’re in nothing but a towel. A very very tiny towel that hides nothing but the necessary bits and even then only barely. 

He can’t wake up now. Not when you bend over to look in your suitcase for Seungcheol closed his eyes just in time. But it doesn’t stop his brain from latching on to every sound in the quiet of the room; the humming tickling across your lips, the wet thump! of your towel on the ground. Oh god, now you’re not even wearing a towel. 

Seungcheol won’t be that friend. He never has. Or has always tried not to be. But teenage hormones make a young boy’s brain untamable so it’d be a lie to say he’s never thought of you like that. But despite his feelings, Seungcheol has made sure they never became a factor in your friendship.

Even though there is a peace of his soul that will always belong to you.

So he pretends to be asleep, forcibly controlling his breathing while you shuffle around the room none the wiser to his rising predicament.

Finally, you disappear back into the bathroom to change and Seungcheol’s lungs stretch with air until they burn.

You look pretty. Objectively. You glow in the late afternoon sun pouring in from the window, a ditsy floral print dress of orange and cream that hugging your figure; delicate collar bones on display under the flimsy straps and the column of your neck bare save for the necklace you’ve worn everyday since your parents bought it for your sixteenth birthday.

“C’mon sleepy head,” you whisper.

Seungcheol is thrilled his gawking is easily disguised as jetlag.

He changes in the bathroom. Taking a moment to grip the sink, his reflection stares back in the mirror. It’s the exhaustion and dehydration making his brain muddle. Nothing to do with you or him.

It’s fine. Everything is perfectly fine.

The downstairs foyer is in complete chaos but Sofie commands the room like she always does from the top of the stairway.

“Alright, ladies and gentlemen. Are you ready?” She yells like a WWE announcer.

Cheers rise up from the gaggle of adults. Cousins, friends, parents, aunts and uncles. Most of them Seungcheol has never seen before and is pretty sure neither have Jeonghan or Sofie but it’s fine. The more the merrier.

Except when different cars end up filled to the brim and you end up sitting on Seungcheol’s lap instead of a seat.

His heart leaps with every bump, yo

ur hair flying into his face and leaving the sweet smell of perfume to flood his senses. Seungcheol can’t even think about that because Sofie’s Zia Linda puts her husband's driving to shame.

At some point you nearly fly out the open window–Why does no one believe in keeping the windows up?– and Seungcheol is forced to wrap an arm around your waist to keep you from ending up a part of the cobblestone road.

“Sorry,” you say. The squeeze at his arm tells him your thankful at least something is stopping you from becoming roadkill.

“It’s fine.”

If you notice his strained breath, you don’t say anything.

The rooftop restaurant is gigantic but with everyone it feels small and crowded. Below, all of Rome spreads out. Lights twinkle in the distance and the moon is heavy overhead, ready for a night of revelry. It’s a welcome party so things are casual, finger foods and drinks flow heavily while everyone mingles.

Sofie and Jeonghan laugh at their own table, holding court with family and friends that flood in and out with congratulations. They’re good at it. Jeonghan ventures on the more introverted side but Sofie could have a meaningful conversation with a pile of rocks. 

You're off at another table, talking with Soonyoung and Seungkwan, a second glass of wine in hand. Laughter rings out and he feels drawn to it like a siren call. It was foolish to worry that the scar from Johnny wouldn’t heal over eventually. All you two needed was time.

Seungcheol barely leaves your side during the party. You dance and drink and dance some more until you’re both left in a heap at the same table by the dance floor. Soonyoung and Seokmin provide ample distraction, taking to the floor to do…something Seungcheol hesitates to call dancing because it resembles a child's idea of a circus. 

Dancing, food, and wine leave him feeling loose and sleepy. You’re not much better, head on his shoulder and hand tangled with his across your knees.

“Cheol?”

“Yeah?”

“I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.”

His shirt is unbuttoned, sleeves rolled high. In the back of the car on the ride home, you trace the muscle of his forearms draped over your waist until it lulls him to sleep.

Back at the house, you, Sofie, Jeonghan, and Seungcheol throw out sleepy goodnights and I love you’s before retreating to your separate corners of the house. Jeonghan is technically staying in a room in the same wing as you two (Sofie’s house is big enough to have an east and west wing which still shocks him). Something about family tradition and bad luck for the wedding but Jeonghan follows his fiancée like a shadow to her room at the opposite end of the house without theatrics.

And then there’s just you two.

You lean on each other the entire walk up, like you need the other support or you’ll crumble to the floor and sleep there. Honestly, it’s not a bad idea. Seungcheol has slept in worse places.

The stairs present their own challenges. You go first, Seungcheol right behind in case you fall backwards which has happened enough times that it’s become a habit to walk this way when alcohol is involved. But it doesn’t solve the issue of you tripping up.

Which you do with an effortless lack of grace on the last step.

“Oh, shit!” you giggle.

Seungcheol laughs so hard his knees buckle and he flops on the floor next to you like a dying fish.

“Shhh!” you slur, finger pressed to his lips. “People are sleeping.”

But you're cackling now and he can’t breathe from the painful quaking laughter rooting in his belly. He’s on his back, and you prop up on your arm to loom over him. Twin smiles breaking your faces, eyes watering with drunken mirth.

You go silent first, tracing his features silently like they must be committed to memory. Seungcheol does the same. You’re exactly the same as the day you left. Except for the vacation glow from being here for the past week. He recognizes all the parts of you he’s known for a lifetime. The silver scar on your chin from learning to ride a bike and crashing into a tree. The color of your eyes. The blush of your mouth.

The finger pressed to his lips traces along the plump flesh, then his chin, then it circles the back of his head and you’re ducking down.

Alarms go off in Seungcheol’s head screaming: 

DANGER! DANGER! THIS IS NOT WHAT FRIENDS DO! DANGER!

“Wow, it’s late,” he laughs horsley as he rolls away and to his feet. 

You jump away, dazed for a second before laughing as well. “Yeah, let’s um…let’s go to bed.”

He can’t quite read your expression. Several  emotions swirl across your face but Seungcheol can barely look at you without feeling his face heat so he doesn’t linger. 

Seungcheol takes the bathroom after you finish, rushing through his night time routine in sober silence. 

You're drunk. That’s the only reason you’re trying to kiss him. Or he had something on his mouth and you can’t find the words to tell him. It was a mistake. A momentary lapse of judgment that didn’t mean anything.

It wasn’t even a fraction of an almost kiss. Your noses barely touched, it doesn’t count.

When he comes back into the room, you’re curled up on the bed in your pajamas asleep.

Seungcheol circles to the other side, slipping under the covers and getting comfortable. The room feels smaller after what just happened. But it wasn’t a big deal. Nothing happened. You both were drunk and missed each other. You never would have kissed him.

Despite the fact the first, and only, time you two kissed was in very similar circumstances.

Rolling over, you find him and cuddle into his chest. Seungcheol opens his arms for you on instinct. 

“Did you have fun today?” you ask into his collarbone. The vibration of your voice tickles but it’s dulled from Seungcheol’s heart thudding wildly.

“Yeah.”

His hand smooths the back of your hair, down your back. You readjust, throwing a leg over his own and pulling him in tight.

“Good,” you say around a yawn. “Me too.”

Seungcheol tamps down the piece of him that wants to indulge in this. Just holding you, pretending things outside the door don’t exist and it’s just you and him and no one else. 

But he can’t do that.

“You know,” he starts. “I’m happy for you no matter what, right? You and Johnny…I’m happy for you.”

Seungcheol waits for a response that will never come because you’re out cold, snoring against his chest.

You’re still asleep when Seungcheol wakes around noon. Sometime in the night you shifted to the far side of the bed, taking the blanket with you. He doesn’t try to wake you, still confused at exactly what happened last night.

Seungcheol isn’t naive. He knows what women look like when they want to be kissed, when they're thinking about how his mouth will feel against theirs. Usually he revels in it; loves the flare to his ego, the chance to tease before giving in.

But to see the expression on your face sent him into a panic. He’s seen it once before, indulged in it, and it ruined his life for the better part of college. Lips parted, eyes glassy as you stared. All the telltale signs were there: the lift of your chin, hands twisted in his shirt, eyes drooped low.

And the worst part was you did all that despite having a fiance waiting back home none the wiser. Even if Seungcheol couldn’t stand Johnny, he’d never do that. Never allow you to do that. 

Even if he wanted nothing more than to feel your lips on his.

He heads as far away as he can. Turns out it’s down stairs for breakfast. Sofie is at the kitchen table, typing on her laptop.

“Morning,” Seungcheol croaks.

“You look like shit. Wild night?”

“Just some old timers thinking they’re twenty one again.”

“What assholes.” She laughs. “How's Y/N?”

Seungcheol freezes like a kid with his hand in the cookie jar. Sofie couldn’t know what almost but certainly didn’t happen in the hallway last night. “She’ll probably need an exorcism but she’ll survive.”

“By the way, I meant to give her this last night but everything was crazy. Can you pass it off? Jeonghan and I have to take my grandma to lunch and she’s already called twice sooooo…”

“Yeah, go. Have fun.”

Sofie is up and out before he can blink, a tiny piece of cardstock left in her place.

Kira Long

Artisan Jeweler

Her social media and number are at the bottom but Seungcheol doesn’t need more information.

He hides around the villa most of the day. Catching up with the guys around the pool, feigning fatigue when you come out to join. The gardens are big enough for him to disappear into for a few hours before he needs to go and get ready.

Unfortunately, that also means you are getting ready. 

A leg.

That’s all Seungcheol sees when he opens the door.

Your leg specifically, propped on the dresser while you apply lotion in nothing but that damn skimpy towel designed to torture him.

“AH!” you shriek, shocked by his sudden entrance. 

“I’m sorry!” he shouts.

The fabric unravels around your chest and suddenly you're naked and Seungcheol is not looking. 

“What the fuck? Have you ever heard of knocking?”

He’s not.

“Why are you naked?”

The ceiling is very interesting. 

“Because I wanted to scare you.” you scream sarcastically. The door to the hallway is still open. Seungcheol either stays in with you or goes back out because it can’t stay open much longer. He makes the fatal mistake of locking himself inside with you. “Because I thought you’d knock, you fucker! Jesus fucking Christ, turn around.”

Seungcheol saw you naked. 

He hides in the bathroom like a wimp until it’s time to leave.

—

It’s a short walk to the church down the street for the rehearsal ceremony. It’s all a blur given the million and one things flying through his brain; most of them you. You in your towel. The fact you’re engaged. You looking at him like you’re dying to be kissed. The fact you’re engaged. How everyone has assumed you’re a couple this entire weekend and you’ve played along. The fact you are engaged to a man that isn’t him and Seungcheol can’t help but feel bitter about it for a completely different reason than he ever thought he would be. 

Luckily, the ceremony is only planned to last less than an hour. He knows he isn’t subtle but he tries to grin and bear it for his friends. He can see the same sentiment in you. Your smile doesn’t quite fit but Seungcheol can’t think about what it could be about. 

“Do you take this man…”

Was it his rejection? It wouldn’t make sense if it was. You’re his best friend but not even that dictates cheating. You weren’t the type; in your own words cheating was more pathetic than ghosting someone as a form of break up. 

He doesn’t get it.

“I always love you even though you sleep like a princess, my love,” Sofie gushes.

“And I’ll forgive you for snoring like an old man, love of my life.” Jeonghan fires back.

They’re saving their real vows, the one Seungcheol helped Jeonghan with, for the ceremony. Even with all the confusion swirling in his head, he can’t wait for Sofie to hear what Jeonghan has in store.

The priest is less than impressed but moves forward like he can’t wait to have them out of his congregation as fast as possible.

“Okay, and you two leave and the wedding party follows…”

Seungcheol offers his arm to the Maid of Honor, Maria, guiding her back down the aisle where Jeonghan and Sofie bicker. You follow with Seokmin, break away the second it's polite with some excuse about needing the bathroom before you dissolve into the crowd.

The dinner is back at the house. The outside is lined with chairs crowded around tables covered in exploding bouquets and candles. Family members and friends weave to and fro, drinks and food flowing heavily.

You’re talking to Seokmin in the corner of the courtyard, a glass of wine already in your hand as you laugh along to whatever the other man said. 

“So Sofie said you’re a lawyer?” Maria asks. 

“Yeah, that’s how we became friends. I actually was the one who introduced her and Jeonghan.”

“Wow, so you’re a lawyer and a matchmaker.” 

Seungcheol laughs at the compliment. Introducing Sofie and Jeonghan had been a complete accident with unintended consequences. “I wouldn’t say that. I thought Sofie would strangle him the first time they met.”

“Oh, I heard all about that. When Sofie told me they started dating I thought she must’ve meant a different Jeonghan.”

Maria makes good company through the first rounds of drinks before dinner is served. She takes his focus away from you, how your leg presses against his under the table. She grew up down the road, went to school with Sofie all the way through undergrad. Her boyfriend, Jihoon, is a surgeon back in Seattle while she works in marketing. Unfortunately getting time off for a second year resident verges on impossible so he couldn’t come to the wedding.

“You two are so cute together, how long have you been dating?” Maria asks before taking a swig of her drink.

“Oh we’re not together,” Seungcheol corrects swiftly.

You give a tense nod of agreement. 

“Really?”

“Yep. We grew up together. She’s like my sister.” 

He sounds like an asshole. The words are bile but there can be no room for incorrect interpretations. This weekend had been nothing but confusing so far. Seungcheol needs to set himself straight on where he stands with you.

“Oh,” Maria nods. “Okay. So Y/N, are you dating anyone?”

“Actually I—”

Your response fizzles out because Jeonghan’s dad rises from his seat for a speech.

“I want to take a moment to express my deepest appreciation to everyone here this weekend to celebrate Sofie and Jeonghan. I remember the first time he told us about her, how happy he was and thought ‘oh this poor girl doesn’t know what she’s gotten herself into’.” There’s a smatter of laughter throughout the room. Sofie leans into Jeonghan’s shoulder and he places a kiss on her temple. “But then I met Sofie and I can say, without a doubt, there are very few people more perfect for each other than those two. Sofie, welcome to our family.”

Dinner passes, course after course and more wine until Seungcheol physically can’t have any more. You and Maria hit it off, rambling about Jihoon’s two cats and the abandoned kitten that hangs out around his work he’s trying to bribe into coming home. You barely look at him during the conversation but he prefers it.

Dessert comes with coffee and then everyone dissolves. Some stay around the tables to chat and drink and laugh, others help clean up. But Seungcheol, Jeonghan, and the groom's party head for the back gardens, Seungkwan already queueing up the song for one last practice.

It’s tradition, in southern Italy at least, for the groom to serenade his bride-to-be the night before their wedding. Seungcheol couldn’t believe Jeonghan was planning to go through with such tradition but he’s seen the man do more for Sofie than he thought he was capable of so it shouldn’t come as a shock.

The warm summer air does good for his mood, as does laughing with the guys when Soonyoung and Seungkwan get into a wrestling match after debating if they step-shuffle for three or four counts. But they all agree with four because it’s easier to remember.

The top floor balcony at the front of the house turns out to be Sofie’s room. The light floods out of the open doors, and two sets of giggles pour down to where they stand.

Jeonghan cups his hands around his mouth and calls, “Juliet, Juliet! Let down your hair!” 

“That’s not the saying.” Seungcheol corrects. 

“Shut up, I’m talking to my wife.”

“That’s not the saying!” Sofie laughs from above. 

You and Sofie peek over the side of the iron terrace, grins already splitting your faces. You knew what was happening. It’s why you whisked Sofie away with whatever distraction you could think of while the men gathered outside for a quick last minute dry run. Something about broken heels and needing to borrow a pair of shoes.

“Sofie Cosima De Luca, you are the love of my life.” Jeonghan yells. He’s drunk on love (and a lot of champagne). “I can’t wait to marry you tomorrow. I just hope after this you still want to marry me. Hit it!”

The obscenely large speaker Seungcheol carried out starts humming the instrumental to Sofie and Jeonghan’s song. The very one Jeonghan drunkenly serenaded her with in a dingy bar, back when she didn’t believe he could handle a serious relationship and he was hopelessly wrapped around her finger.

“I’ve got sunshineeeeeeee on a cloudy day…” Jeonghan croons.

“Oh my god,” Sofie cackles.

Everyone else joins in, harmonizing in the back along with the choreo Seungkwan and Soonyoung came up with. A simple side step with occasional jazz hands (much to Soonyoung’s tipsy dismay). “I guess you’d say what can make me feel this way?” 

“MY GIRL,” Jeonghan belts his line, smiling dumbly.

You’re watching the shenanigans unfold, smiling as well. But while you're looking at everyone else, the only person Seungcheol can look at is you; the way your eyes gleam in the moonlight, your chin tipping back to laugh when Jeonghan’s voice cracks. You’re breathtaking. For a brief moment, barely a passing thought in the roaring river of his brain focused on his cue to sing and side step when needed, Seungcheol imagines what it would be like if you two were the only ones around.

Chalking it up to the moment, Seungcheol thinks about anything else as they finish the performance.

The music dwindles away and all that's left is Jeonghan staring up at his future wife as the rest of the group takes exaggerated bows. Other guest peek from windows or the edge of the drive way, cheering loudly.

“Bravi! Bravissimi!” Sofie cries as you both clap. “Can I make a request?”

Jeonghan nods like an eager puppy in response.

“Sing the Thong Song!” you both request through giggles.

“That's for after the wedding.” Jeonghan winks.

Time for Seungcheol to do his best man duties and prevent Jeonghan from making a complete ass of himself. "Alright Casanova, let’s go.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow!” Jeonghan calls over his shoulder, fighting against everyone ushering him away.

“Don’t be late!” Sofie demands.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” 

After returning Jeonghan to his room for the night, Seungcheol heads back to his completely unprepared to see you again. Too many feelings swirl in his head. Feelings he thought he finally left back in college.

He remembers only a few key events of his early childhood. When he lost his first tooth, when he broke his arm for the first time, and his soccer game at four years old when Jeonghan and he rubbed dirt in each other's faces and rolled in the grass instead of playing. But other than that, his life has been distinctly divided into two parts: before you, and after you. He remembers when you marched into the first day of second grade with a sparkly blue bookbag much too big for your little body. You went to the front of the class, introduced yourself loud and proud, and then looked around the room like you were daring anyone to say something back. 

And like any other childhood friendship is made, you sat at Seungcheol and Jeonghan’s table and asked if they wanted to be your friend. Without even considering the options, they both agreed. From then on out you’d always been Seungcheol, Jeonghan, and YN. Friends in elementary school, all through middle school, and even into the far reaches of highschool when Seungcheol played sports all year while you and Jeonghan did theater. It never occurred to any of you to be apart. Until Jeonghan stayed home to attend university in your hometown. And then it was Seungcheol and YN. Jeonghan came to visit when he could and vice versa. But at university it was you two against the world.

The first time Seungcheol realized he liked you was in third grade after you dumped chocolate milk on Jeonghan’s head because he put a bug in your lunchbox. He married you on the playground and made mud pies to celebrate. And then in high school when Seungcheol realized you weren’t just a girl but a pretty girl and the hormones of his teenage body latched onto that fact and plagued his dreams with the information. 

And he never did anything about that crush because he knew it wasn’t worth losing you to act on those silly notions. They passed just like he thought, melted away as time went on and you both dated other people. 

But that night freshman year of college…

It doesn’t matter. 

Because you have a fiancé and Seungcheol is happy for you.

The sound of running water echoes from the bathroom as Seungcheol enters your shared room. At least it delays the inevitable awkwardness. 

Or he thought it would.

“Hey, Cheol?” you call from the door.

“Yeah?”

“I forgot my clothes. Can you bring them to me?”

“Ugh, yeah.” Seungcheol scrambles for the pile of clean pajamas at the corner of the bed, snatching them up and stepping closer to the door that separates you. “Here.”

Mind caught on other things – like not remember that he caught a glimpse of you make last night, barely a second, no real detail except creamy skin and details his brained filled in on its own accord to his own chagrin – Seungcheol trips over his own feet and slams into the piece of wood head first.

The only thing stopping the door from flying straight into the wall is you.

“Shit!” you exclaim following a ricocheting ‘thump.’ “What the fuck, Cheol?”

Clutching his forehead, Seungcheol is oblivious to the tangle of limbs you’ve both collapsed into. 

“Fuck, sorry.” He blinks against the stark brightness of the overhead light. You’re clutching at your face, hands cupped around your nose and eyes filled with tears. “Here let me see.”

Your eyes crack open enough to glare at him, narrow and rimmed red. As if he didn’t feel awful enough.

Without a second thought, he strokes across the curve of your knee soothingly. “I won’t touch it, I just wanna make sure it isn’t broken.”

A hand shakenly falls away to unveil your perfectly fine nose. Seungcheol tips your chin up, moving in for a closer look just in case. But everything is fine. You’re not even bleeding, just a runny nose that definitely hurts worse than it looks. 

The initial rush of panic ebbs only to be replaced with awareness. Seungcheol is kneeling between your legs, your towel is definitely too short, and the beads of water caught on your collarbone are down right taunting him. He needs to get away.

Now.

“Oh my god,” he gasps, moving back.

Your face morphs into horror at his tone. “What?”

“You’ve got a huge bat in the cave.” Seungcheol rises to his feet, offering you a hand up while ignoring the way your chest struggles against the tie of the towel as you come to your feet as well.

“Fuck you,” you laugh, pushing him away. “Give me my clothes and get the fuck out.”

Seungcheol does just that. As the lock latches back he’s left alone with nothing but thoughts of you.

He remembers. That night you two have never spoken about. And probably would never discuss even under the threat of life and limb. A drunk kiss, in the stuffy bar that didn’t care if your IDs were fake as long as you had money.

Seungcheol remembers the way you felt in his lap, the taste of your mouth, the breathy whine against his lips when he first pulled away from the kiss. Maybe that last detail was a hallucination but it felt real. The heat of your body haunted Seungcheol for the week after it happened. 

Not even Jeonghan knew about it. 

And he’d rather die than open that can of worms. The first time Seungcheol had a crush on you in high school, he swallowed those feelings and never let them see the light of day. Because you’re his best friend, his longest friend, and if it was between the risk of losing you from his feelings (that he was certain would fade eventually despite the fact they never have) or keeping you in his life, then he’d stay silent if it killed him.

It’s your turn to disappear the next morning. You’re side of the bed is long cooled by the time Seungcheol’s alarm goes off, a piece of him gone with it. 

His dreams hadn’t helped. A faceless woman, not even sounds or sights or tangible things he could identify. But he knows the feeling. That alluring warmth of a body firm against his own, the kind that leaves him aching when he wants up. Seungcheol knows it's you. It’s the same images that have plagued his subconscious since adolescence when he’d wake up to messy boxers and the inability to look you in the face for days after.

Feelings he’s long suppressed came out last night. Seeing you in the window, in the bathroom, it’s all too much. And now it chases him into sleep; the one place he thought he might have peace.

Luckily your absence means there's no awkward explanation of why he’s hard. The trip to the bathroom is more of dejected desperation than eager need. Seungcheol hops into the shower and takes care of it, careful to keep his thought as abstract as possible or risk you popping up in his fantasy. Dreaming about you is damning enough. He doesn’t need to add to the guilt weighing on his conscience.

The rhythm of the water lulls his brain into a cycle. He can’t do this. He can’t go another minute 

He can’t even survive Jeonghan’s wedding. How he will sit through yours with a grin will be a true test of his acting ability.

But that is future Seungcheol’s problem. Right now he needs to get through today and then tomorrow and after that he’ll be on a plane back home where he can ruminate in the isolated confines of his apartment. 

He just needs to focus on one thing at a time. 

Right now, it’s getting downstairs in the next ten minutes or risk losing tee time with Jeonghan and the other groomsmen. 

There’s only two people he’d ever turn to in a time like this, except he can’t talk to either of them because one is the problem and the other is getting married in a few hours. The last thing Jeonghan needs is to hear about an issue between his two best friends.

Which is why he’s the first to pick up Seungcheol’s mood. 

“You look like shit,” Jeonghan greets. 

The other mill about the kitchen, snagging leftover pastries and fruit. Usually Seungcheol is the first to show up, not the last. But Soonyoung still seems to be missing.

“Thanks.” 

“Rough night?”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“Well if you’re tired you can always join the girls at the spa.” Jeonghan offers. “Sofie said they’re doing mud baths.”

The wedding isn’t until this afternoon leaving the entire morning free. So the boys play golf while the girls go soak in mud.

“That sounds…horrible.”

“I know,” Jeonghan nods. “Alright gentlemen, let's head out.”

Seungcheol eats shit the entire morning. He usually scores around seventy five but he’s destined to break well over a hundred today and even Jeonghan pretends he doesn’t notice. 

“Do you ever think about why nothing happened between you and Y/N?” Jeonghan asks right as Seungcheol prepares to swing.

Kicking a man when he’s down is more of a guideline for his best friend rather than something to avoid.

Seungcheol’s shot flies wide, straight into a fairway bunker a good thirty yards behind everyone else’s ball. He watches for another solid minute, deflating.  “No.” 

“If you’re gonna lie, at least make it believable.” Jeonghan chides, setting up his own tee.

“I’m not lying.”

“Humor me. It’s my wedding day and I’m trying not to freak out.” 

“You’re freaked out?” 

“Dude, of course I’m freaked out. We’ve never gone more than a few hours without talking since we started dating and I haven’t seen her since last night. So just let me focus on something else,” Jeonghan sighs.

Seungcheol thinks about his next words wisely. Jeonghan can smell bullshit a thousand miles away, and playing mind games right now feels a little unfair. “I don’t wonder why nothing happened anymore.” 

“Lying again but whatever.”  Jeonghan grabs for his drive and lines up the shot.

“Why are you asking?” 

“I don’t know. Everyone thought you two would end up together eventually and then you didn’t. I’ve got a lot of people asking and I wanted an official response because you’re not exactly subtle and she isn’t stupid.”

Jeonghan’s shot lands square on the first cut, fifty yards ahead of Seungcheol’s ball. 

“Yeah, well.” Seungcheol huffs. “If she noticed, she never said anything.”

“Okay but did you ever say anything?” 

Jeonghan hands his club over to his catty before they start towards their respective zones. Seungcheol and his friend trailing behind.

Seungcheol argues. “You just said I wasn’t subtle?”

“You aren’t,” Jeonghan snorts. “But Y/N is about as impressionable as rock.”

“Did you think something was gonna happen?”

Seungcheol reaches his ball first. All the other guys are further ahead but Jeonghan sticks by.

“No.” Jeonghan says. “But I know you kissed her.”

Seungcheol turns to the other man, mouth gaped in shock. “How the fuck did you know that? Did she tell you?”

“I KNEW IT.” Jeonghan points at him like a little kid tattling on his friend. “ I fucking knew it! Sofie owes me fifty bucks.”

“What?”

“Y/N is a better liar than you, I’ll give her that but I knew something was off that first week I came to visit. I knew you didn’t have the balls to sleep with her so I must have been something else.”

Jeonghan asked you if you remember the kiss. Jeonghan and Sofie know you kissed. You remember the kiss. But you never said anything. If that doesn’t solidify Seungcheol firmly in the friendzone then nothing else would.

“You made a bet with your fiancée on whether your best friends kissed or not?” Seungcheol shakes his head in disbelief.

“You’ll understand when you have a successful relationship.” Jeonghan touts.

The catty hands over Seungcheol’s driver. He looks about Seungcheol’s age, maybe younger, and by the look on his face he’s trying very hard to pretend he isn’t listening to the unfolding drama. 

Another person to witness how hopeless he is. Great.

“It doesn’t matter. It was a mistake.”

“You never know,”  Jeonghan shrugs, following his catty further up the fairway and ending the conversation.

Back at the house, you’re nowhere to be seen while Seungcheol showers and changes. It’s for the best. No sleep, a horrible golf game, and now all the feelings that returned over the weekend have left him with nothing but a foul mood. 

Every step is dragged out so he doesn’t have to pretend you two are fine. He can’t afford another blow out right now because today is meant to be for Jeonghan and Sofie. Even if Jeonghan thought he should talk about it, Seungcheol couldn’t do it anymore. He wouldn’t do it anymore. But the time it takes leaves his head spinning out of control.

You’re pretending nothing is wrong. Cuddling up to him, calling him your husband. You nearly kissed him. You would’ve if he didn’t stop you. You always said cheating was worse than heartbreak but now here you are, capitalizing on his feelings for whatever satisfaction you selfishly crave; using Seungcheol to hurt your fiancé in secret. Who you seem dedicated to pretending doesn’t exist. 

It’s a nasty cycle. Feeling used, disbelief of who you’ve turned into in months away, that piece of him that always craved something more with you flowering only to wilt because it’s not real. 

You don’t want Seungcheol.

You never have.

The wedding party gathers outside the church. Sofie is tucked away in a private room until her grand entrance. She wanted everyone to be surprised, leaving her bridesmaids to mingle with the groomsmen until it was time to for the ceremony to start.

The lavender bridesmaid dress is nothing special. A tie at the top keeps the entire thing up, the front void of any details. The open back adds a flash of skin but other than that there isn’t much to it. But you’re wearing it and Seungcheol can feel his heart jerk as the fabric flows around your curves. The universe is taunting him with what he’ll never have.

He doesn’t stare despite the fact that every time he blinks his gaze automatically searches for you. It’s hard to ignore the only person he sees in a crowded room. Even if he’s pissed at you.

You excuse yourself from Seokmin, creeping over to where Seungcheol stands with a grin. “You clean up nice.”

“Thanks,” he nods.

“Is something wrong?’ 

A shot of annoyance flashes through him. Now is not the place. Last time he felt like this, you two got in a screaming match on a snowy sidewalk. “No.”

You shake your head, hand coming to rest on his arm in an act of comfort. “Are you sure? Because you’ve been acting weird.”

Betrayed by his own body. Half of him wants to get on the next flight home and block your number so he can forget all of this. It wouldn’t work. The times tried anything remotely of the sort only leave him in circling thoughts day and night.

The other half of him wants to wrap you in his arms and take whatever you're willing to give him. The half that could act like Johnny didn’t exist, at least not in this little bubble where nothing else exists but you and him. Because he's selfish and he’s been in love with you for years and he would never expect something in return for his feelings but he can’t take it any more.

But he can’t pretend anymore.

Pretending he’s never been jealous of your boyfriends, and that the night in college when you kissed meant nothing. That it didn’t flood his brain everytime he looked at you; that it didn’t leave more questions than answers. He’s been pretending everything has been fine, that seeing you asleep on his chest doesn’t make his heart hurt, and that he was stronger than the temptation to kiss you last night.

He remembers that night with clarity despite how drunk he was. Thought it meant you felt the same way he had for years.

“Cheers to finally being adults!” you scream, tequila shot raised over head.

Seungcheol laughs. Nothing is that funny but he’s nineteen and drunk in a dingy college bar with his best friend . “Adults!”

Someone passes by and knocks you forward, straight into Seungcheol's chest where you keep laughing as you look up at him.

You’re close. Closer than ever before. He could count all your eyelashes if there weren’t four of you floating in his vision. But Seungcheol doesn’t need to see clearly. Not when you’re already kissing him.

He’s kissing you.

It’s sloppy and drunk but his brain doesn’t think in big picture. It’s all feeling. Your hand in his shirt, a sweet sigh against his chin when you break away for a second just to come right back. Your mouth tastes like alcohol and lime and he’s never had anything better sweep across his tongue.

Thank god for the booth because you’re in his lap now, grinding against the seam of his jeans until he’s hard and when you finally realize you say his name.

And then Seungcheol pulls away, turns his head, and vomits before blacking out.

He hates that he thinks about it. He thinks about it all the time. What if? But there’s no more what ifs. There's only right now. Just you and him and the widening space in between that's become unnavigable. 

“I’m acting weird? I’m not the one rubbing herself all over me, calling me her husband to strangers, and trying to kiss me.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I can’t believe you would do something like this. Why would you put me in this position? Do you think it’s funny?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m happy for you, really. I just think it’s best if we don’t talk for a while. I think you need to sort things out with your fiance.”

Now that seems to get your attention. “Seungcheol, what—”

The music swells from the organ inside, cueing the ceremony and effectively silencing your questions. 

Good. It’s better that way. Seungcheol is weak for you in all the ways that matter and he knows if he had to stand there for another minute then your hurt expression is all it would take for him to fold and pretend he never said anything.

You join the other bridesmaids and Seungcheol ducks inside the church after the wedding planner opens the doors. One by one the other groomsmen walk in: Joshua, Seungkwan, Soonyoung, and finally Seokmin. Each line up further down Jeonghan’s side. Then the bridesmaids follow. 

Sofie’s cousin, who Seungcheol met once, glides down the aisle followed by another taller cousin who looks nearly identical. Then it’s Sofie’s roommate from college, Mona who Josh had been trying to get with all weekend.

You walk up the aisle, a smile plastered on your face but it doesn’t reach your eyes. You won’t look in his direction. 

Everything is slipping through his fingers and you both have to pretend they aren’t.

Everyone turns to watch Maria, and then Sofie. But the only person Seungcheol is paying attention to is you. 

The ceremony flies by. Sofie cries, Jeonghan cries. 

Sofie cries even harder when Jeonghan recites his vows in Italian. It’s odd, watching his two friends who usually are the couple laughing in the corner, be so vulnerable. Declaring their love for each other in front of a few hundred people.

“Sofie, sin dal primo momento in cui ti ho incontrata, sapevo che ti avrei voluta nella mia vita per sempre. Che tu mi amassi o odiassi, per me andava bene, perché significava che avresti pensato a me tanto quanto io pensavo a te. Mi hai dato il privilegio di chiamarti mia, e non posso aspettare di farlo per il resto delle nostre vite.”

Six months of using Seungcheol as practice, along with Sofie’s cousin, and he sounds decent. Jeonghan wouldn’t win any awards for his language skills but everyone’s faces melt around the room. Even the people that don’t know a word of what he’s say can feel the earnest dedication he has to Sofie. Even Seungcheol gets misty eyed.

“Io, Jeonghan, prendo te, Sofie, come mia sposa e prometto di esserti fedele sempre, nella gioia e nel dolore, nella salute e nella malattia, e di amarti e onorarti tutti i giorni della mia vita.”

“I, Sofie, take you, Jeonghan, as my husband and promise to be faithful to you always, in joy and in pain, in health and in sickness, and to love you and every day honor you, for the rest of my life.”

Then they kiss and Sofie screams something along the lines of “we’re married, bitches!” much to the priest demise before exiting the church. 

From there it’s chaos. 

The entire wedding party is corralled for endless pictures while everyone else heads back to the villa for the reception. You don’t look at him and Seungcheol refuses to acknowledge you until your parents are forcing you two together for awkward pictures like its high school prom.

By the time it’s over and he gets to the reception, the party is in full swing and the sun is setting.

Dinner is a blur. He makes his toast, short and sweet like Jeonghan told him to. The night progresses and people flood the cleared area serving as a makeshift dance floor in the center of the courtyard.

Seungcheol sips his wine. Three glasses in an hour because he isn’t sure what to do with his hands when his obligatory dance with Maria is over and he’s avoided being dragged on the floor by one of Sofie’s more zealous aunts because she herself demands a dance.

“How does it feel to be Mrs. Yoon?”

Sofie turns to watch Jeonghan twirls her great grandmother. Or more like Nonna Cosima leads him. She’s surprisingly spry for someone pushing triple digits. “I think he’s gonna be a great first husband.”

His gaze settles on you, Seokmin leading you across the floor in a ridiculous fashion. The younger man is trying hard to make you laugh and it seems to be working.

“She thinks you’re mad at her,” Sofie says.

“Maybe I am.”

“Care to share with the class?” She prods but Seungcheol doesn’t break, using the ending of the song to find a table at the edge of the makeshift dance floor. “Fine, but I feel like if you’re gonna pout at my wedding I should at least know why. Especially because I owe Han fifty bucks because you can’t lie to save your life.”

Seungcheol is mad. But mostly at himself. For tricking himself into thinking maybe, just maybe, there could be something more. That in all the improbable universes you returned his feelings, this would be one. 

And he did all that knowing you’re dedicated to someone else who is so entirely wrong for you.

“What did she tell you?” Seungcheol asks. 

“That’s not how this works. No pay, no play.”

He studies Sofie for a minute. She’s good at keeping her cards close but she knows about you and Johnny. It wouldn’t be a far leep to assume she knows about everything else.

“God, you sound like Jeonghan.”

“Have you and Y/N talked? Like, really talked, since you got here?” There's a weight at the end of that sentence but Sofie doesn’t elaborate. 

“Care to be more specific?” he asks, grabbing for another glass.

“I’ll take that as a no then.” Sofie takes the seat beside him.

His chest tightens. This is it. 

“About her and Johnny?”

“So she did say something…” Sofie fishes.

“No she didn’t. But I heard you guys in the kitchen the night I got in.”

“You did?” she gasps. “And you didn’t say anything to her about it?”

His jaw ticks in annoyance. “What’s there to say? ‘Congrats on your engagement, you’re too good for him’? I don’t think that's what she’d wa—”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Sofie throws her hands up, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. All around the party continues. “You think Y/N is engaged? To who?”

“Johnny! Who else?”

Her drink sloshes over the sides of her wine glass, narrowly missing the white gown and falling to the cobblestone. “Oh my god, you’re an idiot!”

“Excuse me?”

“She’s not engaged, you dipshit,” she goes on. “Oh my god, you’re both so stupid. I told Han, I told him we should’ve said something.”

“What?” he says quietly.

Sofie continues as if Seungcheol hasn’t spoken at all, “I can’t believe she hasn’t told you.”

“Told me what?”

“She broke up with him!”

She broke up with him. She (you) broke up with him (Johnny). You and Johnny are done. It’s like he’s hearing the news from underwater.

“She broke up with him.” He repeats dumbly.

Someone cheers and then applause follows but Seungcheol is lost in his mind. You and Johnny aren’t engaged. You two aren’t even dating. Haven’t been. 

“When?”

Sofie’s face softens. She knows. The first time he introduced you to Sofie she assumed you two were dating. She didn’t like Johnny for a lot of the same reasons Seungcheol did, but also because she thought you two were meant to be together. “A week after she moved.”

That phone call the week after you moved. It must’ve been something to do with you and Johnny. But why didn’t you answer messages the next morning? Why would you break up with Johnny and then refuse to tell him? Why would you let Seungcheol think he was being used as the other man?

“So this entire week…”

“She was supposed to tell you. I told her to tell you months ago but does she listen to me? Nope.”

“Do you know why?”

“Now that is something she needs to tell you.” Seungcheol looks where you're dancing with Seokmin. Your smile doesn’t reach your eyes but you laugh when the man dips you almost to the floor and struggles to lift you back up. “But first you need to apologize.”

“Is it that bad?”

“When I imagined someone crying at my wedding it wasn’t because of you.”

Seungcheol winces, “She cried?”

“Yep. You owe me a nice ass wedding gift for that one.”

“Sofie, I’m sorry I—” he tries to apologize. 

“Cheol, don’t worry about it.” She pats his arm. “It was actually a nice distraction from the insanity this week.”

“Easy for you to say.”

“It really is.” Sofie rises from the table, snagging a glass of champagne from a passing tray. “Now if you’ll excuse me, my husband owes me a dance. And Cheol?”

“Yeah?”

“You should tell her how you feel.”

Seungcheol takes his chance at Sofie’s departure. With the change in music Seokmin bows out and you're left on the dance floor alone. Cast in the soft glow of garden lights and candles, you’re tragically beautiful. Soft around the edges in a dreamy haze. Seungcheol feels like he’s intruding by approaching you but he needs to apologize before you both return to your separate corners of the country tomorrow night.

“Hey,” he greets.

You look at him apprehensively, eyes dark, before speaking. “Hi.”

You’re just as petty as Seungcheol so he knows if you’re speaking to him then there's some kind of hope he hasn’t completely ruined your friendship. But it could also mean you’re about to rip him a new one in front of everyone for not the first time in his life.

Hopefully, it’s the former.

“Mind a walk?”

“We’re at a wedding.”

Jeonghan and Sofie curl tightly around each other at the center of the courtyard. It’s clear from the way both their faces soften, lax grins reaching their ears, that the world has stopped spinning just for them.

“I’m pretty sure we could light them on fire right now and they wouldn’t notice. Besides, Sofie gave me her blessing,” he jokes but you don’t laugh.

“Fine,” you say before stalking towards one of the paths leading to more secluded parts of the house.

People drape across different parts of the villa as you two walk in silence to find some privacy. The gardens are full of chatting elders, kids running around in the dark or falling asleep in some adults' holds. After ten minutes with no luck at seclusion, Seungcheol has half a mind to go back to your room and talk it out but he doesn’t. The idea itself freezes his blood.

It’s not until you're deeper into the maze of shrubs and bushes that the voices and music fade. The silence is so tense he might shatter under the pressure.

You whip around to face him, still five paces ahead. 

“What did you want to talk about?” you deadpan.

Seungcheol thought through every thing he wanted to say, all the questions and whys and what ifs he’d collected during this trip but they abandoned him now that they have the chance to be answered. Instead, all that comes out of him is a shaky,  “I’m sorry.”

You wait for him to elaborate but he doesn’t. He’s apologizing for more than he could put in words and he’d list them off until the sun comes up if he starts now.

“Okay. Is that all?” you ask.

“Sofie told me about Johnny.”

You blanche. “She did?”

“Yeah, she did.”

“What did she tell you?” your arms draw tightly around your center. Like you’re holding your heart from spilling out your chest. 

Seungcheol regurgitates the limited facts Sofie shared, which is that Johnny hasn’t been in the picture for months and you never deemed him worthy of that information.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I tried. But you didn’t answer your phone and I felt so stupid afterwards and… I just couldn’t do it.”

It hits a nerve deep in his heart. How could it have been easier to spend months pretending he didn’t exist then tell him your relationship ended? More anger slips through. The nasty kind that makes him say things he doesn’t mean but Seungcheol tries to reign it in.

“So you just ignored me and thought that’d solve all our problems?” 

“No!’

“Then why didn’t you say something?”

“Because I moved cities for a guy I didn’t even like that much! I changed my entire life for him just to prove a point. Because you were right about him and I was wrong and only took a fucking week to realize that after I screwed everything up. I should have listened to you but—”

“So you lied to me because you didn't want me to say ‘I told you so’?” Seungcheol fumes. “Are you serious?”

“I didn’t lie to you!” you object.

“Yes you did! You stopped talking to me for months! Months. I can’t even remember we went a week without talking but you dropped off the face of the planet,” he rants. “I thought you were happy in New York with Johnny but apparently I’m the last to know anything. If you had just told me I wouldn’t have said anything. I would have gone up there and moved you back home myself.”

“I don’t want you to fix my mistakes!”

“Then what do you want? Because from where I’m standing I have no idea. All week you’ve been acting weird and because you didn’t tell me I thought you were using me to cheat on your boyfriend. How do you think that makes me feel?”

“I didn’t mean to. Things just kept happening and I got swept up before I could tell you.”

Seungcheol was nothing more than a meaningless distraction, a rebound.

“So it didn’t mean anything to you?” he asks.

“No!” you cry. “I was just distracted.”

“Distracted? Are you serious?”

“You know what? Forget it. You don’t want to listen to me, you just want to be mad and yell.”

You’re right. Seungcheol does want to be mad and yell and pull his own hair out because what you’re saying isn’t helping untangle the knotted mess of his brain. It’s making it worse. Your confessions are watering that seed of hope in his chest despite the fact he knows nothing will ever happen. Even with Johnny out of the picture.

“Why did you break up with Johnny?”

“I—” Your eyes close. Pulled tight like you’re finding the courage to tell Seungcheol some dark secret. “He…” you swallow. “I broke up with him because…”

Seungcheol tenses, prepared for the absolute worst. You moved your entire life for the guy and broke up with him a handful of days later. There had to be a reason. “Because why? Did he do something?”

“No!” you correct. “I wish he did, I probably wouldn’t have felt like such a bitch but he didn’t do anything at all. I just realized we didn’t work.”

“You didn’t ‘work’?”

I told you so, indeed.

“Yeah. It’s kinda difficult to be with someone when you're in love with someone else,” you reply.

Suddenly, Seungcheol wishes he never brought it up. Another guy. One that isn’t him. Again. He’s the other man. Those gut feelings, the nagging voice at the back of his head that reminded him time and time again you couldn’t feel the same has its own ‘I told you so’ moment.

But that’s not what makes him feel horrible. He’d suffer from overthinking as long as needed just so you wouldn’t look so ashamed. 

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Seugncheol waits for you to elaborate. More silence except for the crunch of your shoes across the stone walkway. A bench comes into view and you slip into one of the spots before speaking again.

“I…I always wondered why those dates never worked out. Like, I would like someone but then they didn’t want the same things or they’d want the same things but I didn’t want them. And I guess Johnny was my last ditch effort because maybe if I knew from the beginning things weren’t gonna work out then I’d never be disappointed.”

Seungcheol isn’t sure what to say so he stays quiet.

“And I thought I could just live with it. Knowing I didn’t have what Jeonghan and Sofie have. Like who actually gets that in their life? But…”

“But?”

“But then I realized that there was only one guy my whole life that’s actually been everything I wanted and I was comparing everyone to him.”

“Who?”

“You.”

Him. You’ve compared every guy you’ve dated to him. He’s the person you want, the man you’ve measured everyone up to and found them wanting.

You’re in love with Seungcheol. You broke up with your boyfriend for Seungcheol.

You love him back.

“It’s fine, if you don’t feel that way about me. I’m okay with it. I wasn’t planning to tell you because I expected anything. I just… part of the reason I didn’t say anything is I know you don’t think about me like that but this week I thought— I don’t know what I thought. But I didn’t want to lie to you anymore.”

“You…what?”

“Let’s just agree to pretend this never happened, okay? We should get back to the party.” You move to rush past him but Seungcheol hooks an arm around your torso, light enough you could break through if you really wanted to but you stop all the same.

There is no way in hell you drop that bomb on him and leave him to deal with the aftermath alone.

His voice is unrecognizable to his own ears. “You broke up with Johnny because of me?”

“Yeah,” you swallow. You refuse to look at him, focusing on the neatly clipped grass your heels sink into.

“Because you’re in love with me.” 

You flounder. It isn’t a question. It’s a fact.

“How long?” Seungcheol presses.

“What?”

“How long have you been in love with me?”

“It's always been you.”

Seungcheol’s heart detonates into a million pieces.

“You?” His pulse is sprinting. You’re in love with him. Have been. Maybe as long as he’s been in love with. Impossible for it to be longer because there's no moment in time when Seungcheol didn’t carry his feelings for you like an old friend. “You didn’t say anything.”

Your eyes are wet again, more tears he wants to brush away but he can’t do anything but stare. “I didn’t want to ruin our friendship.”

“You wouldn’t have,” he whispers back.

“What's supposed to mean?”

Your nose brushes along his, eyes soft as you glance at his mouth. 

Seungcheol won’t let himself kiss you yet. He can’t. The first time he feels your lips on his in years has to be in private because he shakes at the idea of it, a part of him chips away from just imagining even the most chaste brush. But mostly because he’s terrified that once he starts, he knows he won’t be able to stop.

“Do you remember that night in college?” he asks. You’re stunned speechless by the abrupt shift in topic but the words fall out of his mouth before he can think of a better way to say what needs to be said. He continues, “when we did a million shots and you kissed me?”

You snap back, slapping a hand on his chest and nearly teetering to the ground. “You bitch! You kissed me!”

“So you do remember!”

“Of course I remember,” you declare. “I thought you didn’t remember.”

You remember. You remember how his mouth tasted, how you ground into his lap, the feeling of his hands on your ass. All of it sticks with you like it stuck to him.

“Trust me, I remember.”

“Well, why didn’t you say anything?” you huff.

“I was going to but you told me you started dating whatever-his-name before I could.”

“Because I thought you didn’t like me back!”

“I’ve liked you since the first day I met you.”

“Really?”

“Yep.”

“You should’ve said something.” The admonishment means nothing. Not with the way you smile at him. It makes his heart soar, hope bursting at the seams. 

“I didn’t even know you realized I was a dude until college, why would I say something?”

“Trust me, I knew you were a guy way before college.”

“And we’re back to the original question: why didn’t you say anything?”

It's ridiculous. Utterly comical and unimportant of who said what when because they’re being said now and Seungcheol never has to pretend he isn’t hopelessly in love with you ever again.

You cozy up into his chest, fingers tracing the collar of his shirt. “Wow, barely five minutes we’re already fighting.”

“We’re not fighting.” His lips burn the word into your hairline, arms wrapping around your frame so his fingers can finally, finally, trace the bared skin of your back.

“Oh really?” You laugh. “Then what are we doing, oh wise one?”

“We’re having a spirited conversation over the fact you kissed me and never said anything.”

“And now we’re fighting over whether or not we’re fighting.”

“We’re not fighting.”

“You’re exhausting.” Your eyes roll. He can’t see it, not with how you duck into his neck, but he knows you did it. Because Seungcheol knows you better than anyone else.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“And you kissed me.”

“Well then there's only one way to settle this.”

“Which is?”

Seungcheol doesn’t answer. If Jeonghan could be lit on fire and not think of anyone but his wife, then the world could fall to dust and the only thing on Seungcheol’s mind is the way your mouth feels against his.

It’s light at first. Airy because you’re both still laughing over arguing if you’re fighting or not. But then Seungcheol loses his balance and you help by curling a hand around his shoulder but refuse to stop kissing him and the world blinks out of existence for a second.

All the cliches start making sense. Two halves of a whole, puzzle pieces slipping together, all the things poets could say in a million more eloquent ways than him.

But Seungcheol feels at home for the first time in his life.

It’s not easy maneuvering a full grown woman up and into his lap. It’s especially not easy because you’re you and you’re more stubborn than anyone he’s met in his life which means you object to every step, huff and puff at a brief second of broken contact, but the second he spins you around and drags over his lap you melt.

Your tongue glides along his, sending a tsunami of want through his bones. You whimper. Or maybe he does. Seungcheol can’t tell what's up and what's down right now. He finds the open back of your dress and relishes in the arch of your spine, the choppy breath he can feel beneath his palms.

The silk bow holding your dress up teases his hand as Seungcheol traces the notches of your spine. No one would see. No one except him and the moon and the stars who’ve all stopped to watch. He wants to. God, he wants to but he doesn’t.

You tug at his hair and your name floods his tongue like a curse. 

Draped across his lap in nothing but thin satin, you can feel all of him. How his cock hardens against the back of your thighs, shaky breathes in his lungs wrecking into your own chest. You're not wearing a bra. None of that tape or the sticky thing you’d leave hanging in the bathroom when you lived together. Seungcheol knows because he thumbs over the soft swell of your chest and you respond with a rock of hips that leaves his mouth watering.

The last time he kissed you, that fateful night freshman year of college, Seungcheol thought about it every night for months. He thought about it in the shower, in his bed. His mind would wander towards the memory during class and when he walked around campus.

Now he’ll think about this for the rest of his life.

A shrieking laugh almost sends you to the ground in haste to break away, but Seungcheol catches you in time. 

“Um…” you choke. Your lips are swollen, eyes a little dazed.

“We should go back inside.”

“Yeah.”

“Just, give me a minute.”

“Why?” Your smile grows steadily as you press more firmly into his predicament.

“I have an issue right now.”

“What kind of issue, Cheolie?” you stare at him through your lashes, finger tracing down the front of his shirt until you reach the button of his pants.

“Oh God,” he grunts as the heel of your hand rocks into him. “You’re actually evil.”

Your lips trace over his jaw, sucking and nipping at the lobe of his ear until he shudders. “Don’t you want me?” 

“I do,” he breaths. “Shit.”

His hand squeezes across your ass, your breasts, mindful of how much freedom you’re giving him. To feel you like this, to touch you the way he’s wanted to for years. 

“Then have me,” you moan. 

“Don’t say stuff like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you want me to fuck you right here.”

“But I do want you to fuck me.” Your hand is in his pants. “Right.” A tight squeeze on his cock. “Here.” He ruts into the next one.

His insides spark with a hot kind of electricity at the idea of you jerking him off where anyone could see. But he wants to touch you. And that he doesn’t want anyone else to even imagine. He’s shared you enough with the world. 

Seungcheol wants a piece of you that's just for him right now.

“Fuck, okay. Stop.”

“What’s wrong?”

“We’re going back inside.”

“Oh?”

Seungcheol doesn’t give into your obvious goading. It’ll just waste more time. Give you another chance to wring him out to dry and he knows if you get his pants down far enough it’s game over for the both of you. 

He rushes you through the garden, all but dragging you behind him in his haste to get you somewhere secluded. He’d settle for a broom closet at this point. Anywhere he can have you alone.

But you won’t go down without a fight.

You slow to a near stop, whining, “My feet hurt.”

Seungcheol leads you back over another stone bench, immediately kneeling and grabbing your ankle. The pebbles of the path dig into his knee but the slit of silk revealing your bare legs is a good distraction.

“Alright, Cinderella. Let’s get these off,” he jokes. The buckle is delicate and keeps slipping from between his fingers no thanks to your help.

“I can do it myself!”

You try to kick him off but Seungcheol catches your calf easily. Instead of focusing on the teasing stretch of skin, he watches the way your nose wrinkles indignantly after thwarting your attempt to catch him off guard. You’re cute. Probably because he’s in love with you and the rush from knowing you love him back has him feeling a million miles tall.

“Cheol?”

“Yeah?”

Pulling your foot into his lap, Seungcheol brushed his fingers against the knob of your ankle. The tiny buckle that refuses to come undone. Your shaking doesn’t help much.

“Cold?” he asks.

You nod furiously. Warmth hangs in the air but Seungcheol won’t assume your comfort; the silk you're wrapped in doesn’t provide much coverage against the elements. It doesn’t provide him any protection from a wild imagination fueled from years of pining. Without a thought, he shakes off his jacket and hands it to you before moving back to your shoe.

Looming over him, Seungcheol feels your breath hit his forehead. He wants to look up but you’re too close. Too tempting. 

He finally undoes one shoe, then the other. But you don’t say anything and neither does he from his spot between your legs. It’d be easy. So easy to bunch your skirt around your waist, part your legs, and make you cum on his finger. Then his mouth. Then his cock.

You’re thinking the same thing. A hiccup of breath rustling the hair on his forehead, your hands stroking the muscles of his neck give you away. 

But when he starts, he knows he won’t be able to start. He’ll want nothing less than all of you. Give all of himself to you. If you’ll have him.

But a hard stone bench isn’t the place to worship your body the way you deserve. He’d be a gentleman. Even if it killed him to wait any longer. You were worth waiting for. Seungcheol would wait a million more lifetimes if he got to feel like this again.

No shoes means he’s carrying you the rest of the way. He’s done it before and you’re not that heavy but he’s been drinking. And then there's the matter of all the blood in his body heading south, so he struggles more than usual.

“You’re sure you’ve got it?” you cling on for dear life when he nearly stumbles under the first step.

“Sorry, I haven’t been carrying a lot of full grown women around lately.”

“I thought you were looking a little small,” you goad.

“Small?” he objects.

“Yeah, small.” You squeeze over his biceps and his chest like you two aren’t sneaking around a packed mansion where anyone could stumble by. His resolve slips further out of reach at the dig of your nails. “Been skipping the gym lately?”

He feigns dropping you, laughing when you scramble for hold under threat of falling flat on your ass.

“Asshole!” you laugh.

Things fizzle back to comfortable silence. Your companions are far off laughs and the loud music from the courtyard. The garden is all but abandoned, not a single soul in sight. It makes it all too tempting to find another bench and take up what was interrupted earlier. The heat of your breath against his ear with each giggled whisper didn’t help. Neither did the warm weight of your thighs in his hold or the firm press of your chest against his back. 

It’s a mistake to look over his shoulder. Your eyes shine in the moonlight as you stare back, a smile lifting the corner of your lips.

Seungcheol focuses back on the hallway, double checking for any passersby. There’s nothing indecent about a man giving a woman a tipsy piggy back ride. 

But there is something entirely inappropriate about how hard he is while doing so.

And Seungcheol knows you know. Or if you don’t then the universe has a personal investment in his suffering. Every step is more difficult than the last because your thighs squeeze around his torso, and your hands find their way down his chest, and then there’s the giggling every time he back tracks because a drunken guest stumbles by on the way to their own room.

You’re sneaking around like two idiot teenagers and it might kill him from lack of blood to his brain.

But Seungcheol wouldn’t have it any other way.

He pauses at the last staircase to catch his breath. There’s no reason you’re still on his back other than the fact he doesn’t want to let you go and the position is the only reason he hasn’t found a dark corner to do whatever you please yet.

“Awww poor Seungcheol, tired already,” you coo. 

Your teasing tone makes his blood boil, worse how you readjust your hold with more squeeze and stretching that leaves him with nothing but horribly inappropriate thoughts of what you’ll do after he gets up the stairs.

Finally, the hallway housing your room appears and he can’t get through the door fast enough. 

You're pressed flat between the door and his body in a blink, fully at Seungcheol’s mercy as he kisses you again. 

“Wait,” you mutter.

Seungcheol sucks along your bottom lip. You pull him closer, arching into his chest. Your stomach is soft against the gentle grinds of his cock. He doesn’t want to wait anymore.

“We—hmmm,” you sigh. “Need to talk about this.” 

Seungcheol pulls away from your mouth, trailing scorching kisses down your neck that leave you shivering. “What about it? I love you, you love me. Feels like that's all there is to it.” 

The second he says it, Seungcheol knows he’s wrong. But he doesn’t want to think about the fine details. He’s never done long distance but you’re only a train ride away. 

“Cheol.” You prod a finger into his collarbone until he dips back.

“I mean it’ll suck being in different cities but it’s not forever right? We’ll figure it out.”

You dip your chin. “I’m not staying in New York.”

“Oh. That’s—” he cups your cheek, pulling your gaze to his. “I’ll go wherever you need me.”

You smile up at him and everything goes blank. In that moment, he vows to do anything you ever ask if it means you’ll keep looking at him like that.

“I’m moving back to D.C.” You kiss the words into his palm, eyes never leaving his.

“Really?”

“Yeah.” You smile. “Sofie’s friend needed a roommate and my job agreed to let me go remote so…”

“When do you move back?”

“Two months. They want to wait until the busy season is over.”

“But then you’re back. For good?”

“For good.”

It feels like you're promising a whole lot more.. 

You have Seungcheol for good too. As long as you want him, he’s yours. Probably for long after too. 

He’s so happy, it burns across his skin. It can’t be contained. This is all real. He fights the urge to pinch himself because not even in the wildest of his dreams did he think this was possible. 

"When you come back home.” Home he thinks. Home with him. Where you belong. “We're going on a date. And you're going to let me pay, and woo you, and take care of you because I love you. Okay?”

Your hands twine around his shoulders before you respond with a nod, “Okay.”

In the privacy of your room, you’re the one that tugs the knot holding your dress up. The silk slips down your chest revealing inch after inch of what he’s only dreamed off. When it pools around your waist, Seungcheol almost falls to his knees.

You shiver in the cool bedroom air. His eyes drink in the way your nipples peek under his gaze. Every inhale shakes in your lungs and he thinks this might just be enough for him to die peacefully. The silk trickles like water down your figure until you're left standing in nothing but skimpy panties.

“Fuck,” he curses.

Your hands flash to cover your chest, “What?”

“No, don’t,” Seungcheol reassures. His hands find yours, tracing along your thumb. “You’re just…”

“Just?” you ask.

“Wow.”

“I’m wow?” you laugh. 

Seungcheol takes another step into your space. And then another and another, your dress crumbling to the floor and leaving behind nothing but the thin band of your underwear for him to remove. Your knees hit the mattress and he follows you down into the cushion.

You're soft and warm like afternoon sunlight on a winter day under his wandering hands.

“You’re wow,” he responds, angling your chin so your mouth can meet his, noses grazing against one another.

You don’t have the patience to hear Seungcheol ramble about how perfect you are. Instead, you drag him into a desperate kiss, tongue teasing his. He’ll wax poetically later. Right now he wants to give you whatever you demand.

More kissing, the prickle of your teeth along his lip, and Seungcheol is pretty sure he’s never been harder in his life. It’s humbling and exhilarating all at once. Ready to crumble into nothing from some light petting.

He takes his revenge on the curve of your shoulder and it turns out to be extra sensitive. Every nip and suck along your collarbone leaves you panting, hands scratching up his back for some relief. He wonders what else is sensitive.

He laves against your nipple in maddening slowness. You torture him as well, ankles locking at the base of his spine while you grind against him and make more noises he’ll commit to memory forever.

 “God,” you whine when Seungcheol finally breaks and rocks down into the tempting heat of your core.

He needs more. 

“Do you think about this?” he grunts with another torturous press. He could come like this. You could come from this. Two adults, reduced to dry humping like horny teenagers.

“I think about you all the time,” you gasp.

“What do you think about?”

“You.”

Seungcheol snickers, “More specific.”

“Touching me, kissing me. Anywhere. Everywhere.”

A swell of neanderthal pride blooms in his heart. The image of you, touching yourself with his name on your lips breaks another piece of his self control that wants to savor this.

“Here?” he kisses the swell of your breast, waiting for a nod to move on. 

“Here?” A suck on your nipple again until the bed sheets threaten to rip from your hold.

“Here?” A bite at your hip bone.

His fingers part your core, wet at first contact even over your panties. “What about here?”

“Everywhere. I’ve thought about you touching me everywhere.” You sound like you might start crying if he doesn’t fulfill that fantasy soon. 

But he’s dying to know every little thought you’ve ever had about him. If you think about him a fraction as much as he thinks about you. Not just like this, but when he sees a building he’d never think twice about and know you’d have something to say about the construction of the window arches, or when he walks through the park and sees two dogs meeting for the first time and can hear your voice whisper ‘best friends!’ like you’re right beside him. You’re in everything. Every part of who he is.

Your panties come off and he licks between your legs slowly, savoring every part he can while you twitch and curl beneath him. 

“Cheol,” you whine.

There's no need to elaborate. He feels it too.

Your back bows under his touch, and Seungcheol watches you touch yourself with rapt attention. You grab your breasts and squeeze, nipples visible between fingers. 

He sucks your clit, tongue lashing at the sensitive nub. A million times Seungcheol thought about doing this and never did his brain imagine the sounds you’d make, the way you taste, the rough tub at his hair. You're hot and wet under his mouth and all Seungcheol wants is more, more, more.

“Tell me how it feels.”

“So good—fuck—it’s so good,” you gasps as he fucks your opening with his tongue, collection your flavor.

His finger wedges inside your tight walls. You angle your hips, sinking them deeper. Seungcheol pauses for only a moment before giving you a second one. The sting across his scalp from your frantic tugging leaves him straining against the zipper of his slacks.

He cups your ass, dragging you closer to the edge of the bed where he kneels. Your legs spread wider to grant him the space to  savor the pink of your folds under his tongue without obstruction.

Your pitch rises, moaning through a third finger joining the mix and a rough lap of his tongue that has you kicking the sheets.. He can feel it; your end just over the hill. A few vulgar flicks of his tongue and its release in long waves that make you keen his name horsley. 

You melt into a boneless heap. Occasional twitches of muscles flooding with pleasure the only sign of life.

Seungcheol mouths up your stomach, sucking a nipple between his teeth for a second before moving on to your mouth. If all you want to do tonight is kiss and let Seungcheol worship your pussy, then he’ll oblige. But the way pull at his clothes hints at what you want. He draws you back into his lap, your body hot against his, mouth coaxing yours open. 

“Good?”

You giggle against his mouth. “I can’t feel my toes.”

He can’t stop touching you. Probably won’t ever stop now that he knows what it means to call you his. To know your body. You’re no better. Your hands rake through his hair, goosebumps erupting as you tug him exactly where you want.

The soft lines of your throat, the intoxicating taste of sweat and perfume flooding his tongue. It’s better than anything his sorry excuse for an imagination could come up with.

You tug at his shirt, up and up until it’s forgotten on the floor. Your bare chest against his lights an inferno of want. Seungcheol pushes apart your limp thighs, making space for himself to grind against your sensitive core through his own trousers. 

Seungcheol remembers a crucial fact as you slip a hand in his pants and tease his leaking cock.

“Wait,” he mutters into your jaw.

You don’t stop, slowly jerking him off, teeth cutting into the vein on his neck. “What?’

Seungcheol savors your touch before responding, thrusting through your first with blind want. “I don’t have condoms.”

“Oh.”

“I can go and try to find some but I—” he rambles. 

“Cheol.”

“—everyone is probably still at the party so—”

You shut him up with a hand over his mouth, “I’m on birth control and I’m clean.”

“Oh.”

Oh. Seungcheol’s brain swims with lewd imagination; you stuffed with his cum, pussy stretched and worn from his cock. Feeling you raw, again and again until your helpless sweaty messes. 

“Unless you want to use them then that's fine!” you hastily supply.

He cups your face, smiling as you ramble about how okay you are with using condoms. Your face is warm, eyes avoidant while you enthusiastically declare you want to do whatever makes him comfortable. Which is an entirely new problem because if your goal is to make him comfortable, then neither of you will be leaving this bed for the foreseeable future and at some point people will start looking for you.

Seungcheol rolls over. You take advantage of the opportunity for free command of his lap, forcing his pants down until he’s as bare as you. He preens under your wide eye stare, ego flaring under your wide eye stare. Leaning back on his palms, he grows cocky from your silence.

“Like what you see?” Seungcheol goads.

Your gaze cuts to his, eyebrows arched in your own challenge. A flare of fear zaps up his spine. 

He loves it.

Seungcheol is accustomed to taking the lead in bed. Some girls want him to be domineering, others prefer to sit back while he naturally takes the reins. 

But you’ve butt heads with him in every aspect of life, hopefully this would be no different. He’s hoping you might even try telling him exactly how you want him.

“You’re so hard for me,” you whisper. Your hand reaches out, thumbing at the leaking head of his cock with seductive confidence. 

Seungcheol nods in agreement at a loss of words under your touch.

Your head cocks to the side curiously, empty hand slipping between your thighs, making space for the head of his cock to nudge against your clit. “Do you wanna fuck me?” 

He nods again.

“Good,” you smile. You hide in his neck, nosing along the tense muscles straining to break out from his skin. “I thought about you fucking me like this. When we were in high school. I thought—I wanted you to be the first.”

“Really?” he asked dazedly. 

Your first. Not Stoner Ricky from Calculus. But him. You wanted Seungcheol to have you first, possible be the only one for each other. It’s a lie if he didn’t think of you in the back of his mom’s car while Tiffany Something took his virginity. Your lips, your voice instead of her nasally pornographic sounds, when he came it was only because he closed his eyes and thought of you. 

He tells you that and earns a deep bite on his shoulder. 

You continue, “I’d watch porn or read those smut books, and I always pictured it was you.”

“God.”

You sink on his cock, pussy stretched on his length, stars flaring across your vision. There's not enough air in the room to breathe through the tight squeeze wrecking your guts. You’re in the position of control but Seungcheol can already see submission gaining control. You won’t admit you can handle his cock but pride warms his veins at how much energy it takes for your stunted rhythm. 

“Fuck,” you curse.

 “Yeah? Feels good having your pussy stuff with my cock?” Your nails bite into his chest in response. Pink lines flare in their wake, one he hopes are still there tomorrow. 

Seungcheol drags you into a kiss, a dirty culmination of teeth and tongue and your satisfied sighs and his needy grunts. You suck at his lips, focused on that rather than riding him. 

“Taping out already?” 

You ignore the dig. It takes the barest twinge of his arm and you’re rolling on your back, legs spread in invitation. He sinks into the space reserved just for him, sliding deeper than before. Now he’s the one that needs a moment. Squeezed to death between your walls is the sweet torture he’s ever experienced, the wet sloppy drag of your cunt, bare for him and him alone. 

It’s an act of bravery to pull out for the sake of thrusting back in. If he was confident enough you could get off without his hips sinking deeper then he’d never do it, content to keep his cock wedge inside you and play with your clit and tits until you cry from the pleasure. But he really wants to fuck you. 

“God, feels so good.” You break. He keeps his pace steady, building you up until you muster a way to squeeze him tighter and his skins on fire. 

He hoists your leg up, a deeper stretch that leaves him muttering about how good you feel. The wet slap of your cunt grows louder, sloppy clashes of his pelvis against yours.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chants, stomach caving. The urge to cum is nipping at his heels but Seungcheol is better than that. Better than a quick fuck, at least for this first time. He wants to hear more of your sounds, fold you in every position he can imagine.

“More,” you grunt. “Fuck me harder, baby.”

He gives you what you ask for; plowing you into the mattress until the headboard slaps against the wall. “You like that?”

“Love it—shit. I love it.” You prop yourself up, shoving a hand between your bodies to swipe messy strokes across your clit. Seungcheol collects more sounds from the back of your throat, rough growls and stuttered squeaks. His cock is heavy in your guts, soaked with your arousal and his cum.

Your mouth finds his. Panting breath and loose tangles of lips. It’s a race against time with his vision bleached white. Your stomach caves with effort to meet each stroke with one of your own. 

“I love you,” he groans. 

You clench at his words, growing wetter if possible. Flailing against the bed, he hooks your other knee under his elbow and presses flat, pinning you down under his mercy. “I love you,” you whine back. “I-I—”

Your orgasm floods your veins, brain fuzzy and disconnected from anything beyond Seungcheol. He takes over the circles around your clit. Calloused fingers providing sick friction until you can’t take anymore.

“Wanna feel you come, Cheolie. Please,” you beg.

Something snaps and he’s rushing to pull out, jerking off over your stomach with your hand to help.

Rope after rope shines in the dim moonlight. He can’t even try to pretend the thrill of cumming inside isn’t on the forefront of his mind as the drips of his spend stare back at him. But you look like a fantasy come true cover in his cum, skinned flushed, eyes glazed and chest heaving. His own Venus come to life.

He pushes back in, spent cock sensitive to the squeeze of your cunt. Seungcheol doesn't want to be anywhere else. Now that he has you, he can't imagine a moment without you.

Sinking the weight of his hips, your legs lock him in. A combination of cum, sweat, arousal, and a few tears sticks between your sweltering bodies. Neither of you care, too enamored with cataloguing every bare inch of skin with in reach of your mouths.

‘Ugh,'' you groan. “I need a shower.” 

In the bathroom, where so many horrible dangerous thoughts have plagued Seungcheol since the start of this trip, it’s peaceful. The thrum of the shower drowns out any sound beyond your sleepy huffs and his hums of content. 

As the water heats you press him into the edge of the sink, kissing him as if there's all the time in the world to do just that. That seed of need that has been growing steadily in his gut since he kissed you in the garden comes alive again. You seem to ignore the prod at your thigh though so Seungcheol ignores it too and shepherds you into the stall.

He washes your back with soapy hands and you coif his hair into a shampoo mohawk and it’s feel right no matter how ridiculous he probably looks. You twist every time he touches your waist, shrieking in laughter because you hate being tickled.

Seungcheol is happy. It floods his veins, shoots through the tips of his fingers tracing your hip, forcing a content grin on his lips despite the fatigue of the day. He rests his forehead against your own and takes his first deep breath since New Years.

“I don’t want this to change anything."

“What?” you pull away.

“No!” Seugncehol shouts, wincing at the voluming. “Not—I didn’t mean that I just meant…I-I want you to feel like you can tell me anything. No more secrets. Okay? No matter what changes between us you're still my best friend. If I'm acting like an ass I want you to tell me. If you change your mind then-"

You watch him, features softening. “I won't."

You distract him with your own touches; it’s nice at first. Then it’s nothing short of blissful agony. Teasing nails across his stomach and sides, firm against his body in a way that leaves him weak and wanting. His heart thuds sporadically under your lips as his cock swells against your stomach.

“Y/N,” he sighs.

You kneel in front of him, smirking at how easy he is. You rub his cock with a slick grip. Your mouth comes into play slowly; kissing his hip, then his thigh, your tongue drags up the side until you suck the head between your lips and Seungcheol almost collapses.

You hold his thighs, guiding him further down your throat until there's no more space and you gag. He isn’t sure what to do with his hands but it doesn’t matter because he’s cumming. Fast.

Without missing a beat, you swallow everything he gives you. 

“Oh god—fuck.”

“Good?” you ask, still licking against the head of his cock.

Rather than answer the obvious, he pulls you to your feet with a gentle kiss to your forehead. He’ll make it up to you back in bed. For right now, you curl into his chest, tracing shapes into his collarbone as the water slowly turns cold. 

He pats you dry, ruffling your hair in the humid bathroom with all the time in the world before dragging you back to bed. You snuggle under the covers, still naked. Seungcheol joins immediately, rolling on top of you and caging his arms on either side of your head.

“Hi,” you smile from underneath him.

He can’t help but grin back. “Hi.”

You make love slowly this time. Your back to his chest, Seungcheol curled around you like a second skin, whispering his adoration in your ear until you lurch and cum with a cry. Then he does it again. And one more time because nothing is better than the taste of his name on your tongue.

This time, when Seungcheol finishes, it’s inside you. And when he tries to pull out, you protest with a sleepy threat before slipping into the land of dreams.

“Well, well, well,” Jeonghan tsks from the foot of the bed. “What do we have here?”

You’re still curled in Seungcheol’s arms, bare skin on bare skin only obscured by the blanket he had half a mind to drag over your two in the early hours of the morning. He’s still inside you for Christ Sake. 

And yet Jeonghan and Sofie stand like two cats who caught the canary; unperturbed by the state of things. More like they’re delighted.

It might go down as the shortest honeymoon in history because Seungcheol is going to murder them.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on a boat in Greece somewhere?” Seungcheol croaks, pulling you closer and forcing the blanket overhead. Maybe if he ignores them long enough they’ll go away.

“We were just leaving and wanted to say goodbye since some people decided to ditch our wedding. Now I see why.”

“Jeonghan,” you croak.

Jeonghan preens smugly. “Yes, whore?” 

 “Get out or I’ll show Sofie that video of you from Halloween.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“What video from Halloween?” Sofie asks.

“Jeonghan,” you warn. You’ll do it. The video of Jeonghan sobbing in a party city wig about how much he liked Sofie before they started dating is one of the few pieces of blackmail against him. 

“Fine. But when I’m back next month I want an explanation.”

“What video from Halloween?” She asks again as Jeonghan pushes her out the door.

“I hate him,” you say.

Seungcheol hums his agreement against your shoulder, tracing the skin with his lips until you shiver. “Me too.”

“Now, are you gonna do something about that,” you rock back into his pelvis, a tight squeeze around his cock he bucks into. “Or can I get up?”

“Roll over.”

Seungcheol fucks you for the nth time in so few hours. You whine and whimper and melt into the mattress under his weight, face buried in the pillows in an effort to stay quiet. He doesn’t care that the sun is heavy in the sky and half the house must be able to hear the way he groans around the syllables of your name. 

He doesn’t care one bit.

Seungcheol has seen you in plenty of relationships, been in several of his own, but he’s never been in a relationship with you.

Turns out all the daydreaming and what-ifs couldn't come close to reality.

It’s better.

Most things are still the same. You two still bicker about everything. He finds your hair all over his apartment. His clothes magically disappear from his closet only to turn up at your place. You call him a stubborn jackass and he calls you a drama queen (both in regards to how he loads the dishwasher).

And he loves that even while dating you two refuse to change. 

But Seungcheol also loves all the new things. The firsts you get to share.

The first time you visit home as a couple, your mom spots him kissing along your knuckles as you approach the house and she starts crying. Loudly. He spots his dad hand his mom twenty bucks but not before your dad hands over another ten.

Apparently, everyone was waiting for this to happen. 

His dad claps him on the shoulder and your dad shakes his hand and suddenly he’s no longer Seungcheol, childhood best friend who lived down the street. He is Seungcheol, boyfriend. He’s known your parents since he was in elementary school and his mom texts you more frequently than her own son.

But none that matters because, at the ripe age of thirty, you two are banned from sleeping over during the visit for the first time in your lives.

He’s got a suspicion it’s because none of them know how to handle their kids finally dating. You and Seungcheol have never been normal but they’re trying. 

Even if he sneaks out like he’s a teenager and climbs into your window in the dead of night. Now that's a fantasy come to life.

Back in the city Seungcheol discovers more ways things have changed.

You spend almost every night at Seungcheol’s apartment. When your sublease ends after four months there isn’t a big production about moving in with him. You had a key since he moved into the place years ago. Your stuff ends up in his spare room, which becomes ‘your’ room but you both call it the guest room and it's a new level of domesticity he’s never had.

In the mornings, you find him in the bathroom if he forgot to drop a good morning kiss on your forehead (something he’s started doing on purpose because you totter in with your eyes still closed and pajamas wrinkled, diving straight into his chest and grumbling incoherently until he gives in). It’s enough to make his heart squeeze even after the hundredth time). 

Or how you constantly find a reason to touch him. Curled around his back while he makes dinner, shimmying under his arm when he’s reading case files on the couch. A hand through his hair while you cuddle in bed. Your shared bed, in your shared apartment. Which he is embarrassingly giddy about but you are too and that makes him feel better. You meet for lunch, at either of your offices, and he can see the instinct to drop into his lap making your fingers twitch but only because his own flex with the urge to pull you in first.

The first time you go to a baseball game together and end up on the kiss cam and he doesn’t have to pretend to not notice or awkwardly wait for the cameraman to catch the hint, because you’re kissing him until his ears grow hot and the crowd hoots wildly.

In the best way possible it’s weird. He doesn’t know how to date someone he’s been in love with for as long as he can remember. A lot of it feels like being friends. Like whatever was there before is the bones and all the new things filled in the empty space between.

There isn’t really a guide or set timeline but you’re figuring it out. 

And Jeonghan helps. In his own Jeonghan way.

“You guys have been softcore dating since highschool. Just think of it like dogs. You’ve dated for a year now, right? That's like seven years for your guys.”

Seungcheol will tell you later tonight, after you’ve said yes, how the last part of your trio gave his blessing. How Sofie helped him pick the ring (which was really Seungcheol picking the ring and her providing moral support via muzzling her husband).

But for right now, he watches you across the table, laughing at something the waiter said, the weight of the velvet box burning a hole in his pocket.

And he knows the next first you have together will be the best one yet.

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