#WHY AM I LIKE THIS!?!?!?!? 😭😭😭😭

[sharlsworld]

⋆⭒˚.⋆ my best friends brother - 𝐂𝐋𝟏𝟔 ✴︎

（ 𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 ）𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗋𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝗅𝖾𝖼𝗅𝖾𝗋𝖼 𝗑 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

（ 𝗌𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗒 ）𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗁𝗎𝗋𝗌 𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖽𝗁𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗍���𝗌𝗍 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝖼𝗋𝗎𝗌𝗁 𝗈𝗇 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗋𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝗌𝗂𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗌𝗁𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗀𝗋𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗎𝗉 𝗁𝖾𝗌 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝖾𝗂𝗋𝖽 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗆𝖺𝖼𝗁 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝗋

note ✫ i imagined her to be 22 idk sorry i love a good age gap also my first charles smau!!

🝮

yn

liked by pierregasly and 1,175,903 others

yn “let’s go for a ride on the boat it’ll be fun”

charles_leclerc Did you or did you not have fun?

⤷ yn you almost flung me off the boat when you had to swerve out of the way of the rock

⤷ charles_leclerc And I apologized for making you bite your tongue on accident bug can we please move past that?

⤷ yn you broke my hairbrush trying to detangle my hair

⤷ charles_leclerc And I ordered you a new hairbrush bug can we please move past that as well?

⤷ sharls_lerklerk charles calling her bug is something very dear to me

arthur_leclerc “It’s not gonna be like last time guys I’ve learned from my mistakes”

⤷ jade_dishtinguinn poor arthur got water boarded for the second this month 😭

⤷ user1634445581 i would never let my bf have a girl best friend

⤷ yn I literally introduced them??

lorenzotl Charles trying to recreate the titanic

⤷ yn always needs the attention on him 🙄 (i’ll give him attention)

♥︎ by charles_leclerc

estiebestie charles finally acknowledging y/n’s crush on him will always be my favorite thing

charles_leclerc Face card never declines

⤷ yn omg u slut 🙂‍↕️

forzacharles why is charles trying to recreate the jack and rose scene with y/n??

⤷ yn my exact thoughts like we just gon keep playing eye tag or you gonna holla at ur boy? 😤

⤷ arthur_leclerc dis gur

alex_albon wait your like kinda giving mermaid turned human vibes??

⤷ lilymhe no I see your vision

lando the money i would pay to see that boat ride

⤷ charles_leclerc You wanna go for a boat ride??? 😄 No one wants to go with me anymore…not even y/n it’s lowkey making me depressed

⤷ lando um no i kinda hope to live to see my next birthday or whatever

⤷ yn you’re such a copy cat you wanna be different so bad but you’ll never be different

⤷ lando ???

⤷ yn don’t ??? me fattie you know you hella wrong for what you did

🝮

charles_leclerc

liked by lewishamilton and 3,972,124 others

charles_leclerc I am hopelessly in love

arthur_leclerc am I tweaking

leclerc_pascale We know son ❤️

francisca.cgomes i thought you were gay for max and carlos? like aren’t you guys a throuple or something

⤷ charles_leclerc that’s common knowledge i fear

charles_leclerc NONONO I TOOK A NAP AND SHE TOOK MY PHONE

⤷ yn HAHAHAHAH

⤷ arthur_leclerc Did you send charles this picture so you could post it 😭

⤷ yn no he already had it in his camera roll

⤷ lordperceval 😦?? i need to see more

charles_leclerc IT WASNT ME GUYS I DIDNT POST THIS

charles_leclerc I AM NOT IN A THROUPLE WITH CARLOS OR MAX GUYS PLEASE BELIEVE ME

danielricciardo Damn bro that is a beautiful picture it really captures her essence

maxverstappen1 Why don’t you capture my damn essence like this?

lorenzotl How did she even get into your phone?

⤷ charles_leclerc She deleted my face from it in like 2021 and added hers

⤷ lorenzotl Why didn’t you delete it?

⤷ charles_leclerc I don’t know how

⤷ lorenzotl Why didn’t you look it up?

⤷ charles_leclerc This conversation is over

⤷ arthur_leclerc So you’ve been manually typing in your password for 4 years cause you don’t wanna delete her Face ID from your phone?

⤷ charles_leclerc This conversation is over

francolapinto raw, next question

⤷ yn 😨😰😥😏

⤷ charles_leclerc No

arthur_leclerc Guys I think I swallowed to much ocean water my stomach hurts

⤷ oscarpiastri google said you have 3 days idk

🝮

yn

liked by charles_leclerc and 1,213,856 others

yn scheming how to make my best friends brother fall madly in love with me

francisca.cgomes y/n searching up “love spells” on tik tok

arthur_leclerc y/n is probably doing some weird dance around a bunch of candles in the shape of a heart with charles leclerc edits playing on her tv and ipad rn

⤷ yn are you fucking watching me through my windows or something damn

charlotte2304 She just ordered a bag of rose quartz guys

hoeforsainzzz charles wants her so bad he’s just trying to play hard to get fr

⤷ yn bro wants to play the long game 🙂‍↕️

♥︎ by charles_leclerc

lecult_4lyfe y/n is the most loyal person ever

alex_albon Omg let me help I’ll show you stuff I did to get lily to date me

⤷ lilymhe ???

⤷ alex_albon Girl I’m a mastermind

sharls.eclair we know she ain’t lying either

oscarpiastri I wish I knew all the lore on this crush

⤷ georgerussell63 Omg I’ll make a PowerPoint

⤷ lando great you’ve brought out powerpoint george thanks a lot oscar. thanks a lot.

🝮

charles_leclerc

liked by carlossainz55 and 2,621,904 others

charles_leclerc training camp, part 2. 😘

yn no lube, no protection, all night, all day, from the kitchen floor to the toilet seat, from the dining table to the bedroom, from the bathroom sink to the shower, from the front porch to the balcony, vertically, horizontally, quadratic, exponential, logarithmic, while I gasp for air, scream and see the light, missionary, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, doggy, backwards, sideways, upside down, on the floor, on the bed, on the couch, on a chair, being held against the wall, outside, in a train, on a plane, in the car, on a motorcycle, the the bed of a truck, on a trampoline, in a bounce house, in the pool, bent over, in the basement, against the window, have the most toe curling, back arching, leg shaking, dick throbbing, fist clenching, ear ringing, mouth drooling, ass clenching, nose sniffling, eye watering, eye rolling, hip thrusting, earthquaking, sheet gripping, knuckles cracking, jaw dropping, hair pulling, teeth jitterbug, mind boggling, soul snatching, overstimulating, vile, sloppy, moan inducing, heart wrenching, spine tingling, back breaking, atrocious, gushy, creamy, beastly, lip biting, gravity defying, nail biting, sweaty, feet kicking, mind blowing, body shivering, orgasmic, bone breaking, world ending, black hole creating, universe destroying, devious, scrumptious, amazing, delightful, delectable, unbelievable, body numbing, bark worthy, can't walk, head nodding, soul evaporating, volcano erupting, sweat rolling, voice cracking, trembling, sheets soaked, hair drenched, flabbergasting, lip locking, skin peeling, eyelash removing, eye widening, pussy popping, nail scratching, back cuts, spectacular, brain cell desolving, hair ripping, show stopping, magnificent, unique, extraordinary, slendid, phenomenal, mouth foaming, heavenly, awakening, devils tango ever bro could cause a nuclear bomb inside me and I'd still ride.

⤷ charles_leclerc i meannn….

⤷ yn you want me so bad

⤷ charles_leclerc i meannnnnn……

⤷ yn OMG HE WANTS ME SO BAD GUYS

arthur_leclerc I can’t believe i just read that

maxverstappen1 Oh my fuck I feel like I just got assaulted or something

lando i need to bathe myself in bleach

lewishamilton Wow that was freaky even for me

oscarpiastri I’m gonna call my mom and tell her I love her

🝮

yn

liked by lando and 2,237,713 others

yn guess who

charles_leclerc Wait

charles_leclerc What the fuck

charles_leclerc Are you serious

charles_leclerc Is this real

charles_leclerc Did you get hacked?

charles_leclerc Who is that

charles_leclerc Bug who is that

charles_leclerc Please stop bug

charles_leclerc Is this is a joke?

charles_leclerc STOP IS THIS REAL ARE YOU SERIOUS IS THIS AN ACTUAL DATE???????

charles_leclerc SOMEBODY ANSWER ME PLEASE

charles_leclerc WHY ARE YOU CHEATING ON ME

charles_leclerc BUG PLEASE I THOUGHT WE WERE GONNA GET MARRIED PLEASE

charles_leclerc I KNOW IVE PLAYED HARD TO GET BUT I’VE LIKED YOU SINCE YOU WERE LIKE 19 AND I KNOW THATS WEIRD CAUSE I WAS 26 BUT I COULDNT HELP IT YOU CANT FIGHT LOVE

charles_leclerc BUG PLEASE IVE LITERALLY HAD YOUR ENGAGEMENT RING HIDDEN IN MY FUCKING SOCK DRAWER FOR A YEAR PLEASE

charles_leclerc PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE YOU WERE ALWAYS GONNA BE MY WIFE

charles_leclerc AH FUCK IM GONNA DIE ALONE

charles_leclerc oh my gosh i missed my chance didn’t i?

charles_leclerc i waited to long

charles_leclerc Didn’t even get to hit that

⤷ arthur_leclerc Oh my gosh charles you sicko you’re a fuckin perv 😂😂🫵🏽

⤷ charles_leclerc shut up arthur now’s not the time

charles_leclerc Who is it I’ll kill him

charles_leclerc It’s the haircut isn’t it??? I told maman she cut it to short

charles_leclerc OHHH MY SHAYLA

charles_leclerc please bug i was gonna marry you i swear so bad i literally had it all planned out

charles_leclerc YOURE MY END AND MY BEGINNING EVEN WHEN I LOSE IM WINNING CAUSE I GIVE YOU AALLLLLLLL OF ME TO YOU

charles_leclerc I always thought Ferrari would be the reason I ended myself but it’s this

⤷ yn nooo don’t kill yourself your so sexy aha

⤷ charles_leclerc OH SO NOW YOU GOT JOKES? ARE YOU OR ARE YOU NOT CHEATING ON ME WITH SOME UGLY ASS SKANK?

⤷ lando who tf are you calling a ugly ass skank?

⤷ charles_leclerc YOU WENT A DATE WITH LANDO FUCKING NORRIS???

⤷ lando girl there ain’t no one in the world that can resist this fine ass honey mhmmmm

⤷ charles_leclerc ok gay ass go kiss on carlos or something fucking slut

⤷ yn oh my gosh charles i’ve never seen this side of you 🙂‍↕️

⤷ charles_leclerc are you or are you not cheating on me with lando fucking norris?

⤷ yn daddy chill

⤷ yn it was all apart of my plan you made it to easy

⤷ yn i’ve never seen you cuss so much

lando we just seen charles leclerc crashing out over his little brothers best friend guys this is a historical moment for us chayn shippers

⤷ arthur_leclerc This is gonna be taught in history classes in the future bro trust

charles_leclerc What the fuck I was just manipulated into confessing my crush on my little brothers best friend to the entire world

alex_albon chayn shippers rise

⤷ lando risen ☝️

⤷ georgerussell63 risen ☝️

⤷ danielricciardo risen ☝️

⤷ liamlawson30 risen ☝️

⤷ charles_leclerc This is exactly who I thought would be apart this club fucking losers

⤷ lando this is how you treat loyal fans? i’m not showing the edits we made now

⤷ charles_leclerc Show it to me pleaseeee send it to me Rachel 😔

⤷ lando why is charles leclerc lowkey turning into a pathetic little bitch boy?

⤷ charles_leclerc What the fuck did I do to you?

⤷ lando you called me a fucking ugly ass skank

⤷ charles_leclerc bruh it was a joke it was just in the heat of the moment

⤷ lando i don’t want to hear your excuses 🙄🤚

🝮

yn

liked by zendaya and 3,916,447 others

yn i’m a mastermind

francolapinto tears in my latina eyes

⤷ francolapinto oh shit wait

arthur_leclerc my favorite panther

⤷ yn 🐆🐆 (i know it’s a cheetah shut up)

francisca.cgomes i know that’s right

lilymhe I’m proud, truly

carlossainz55 Peter…how are you doing that

leclerc_pascale My prayers have been answered

pierregasly Great get married now

⤷ yn let’s have a double wedding

⤷ francisca.cgomes omg lets do it

charles_leclerc bugs school of manifestation

⤷ yn a masterclass

♥︎ by charles_leclerc

danielricciardo This is in fact a love story

alex_albon younger me is probably so shook rn

⤷ lando 21 year old me is flabbergasted rn

maxverstappen1 Damn what spells are you using

⤷ yn you’ll never know 🤫🤫

lorenzotl I’ve never seen him look so free

⤷ yn this was kinda poetic lowk

oscarpiastri I can see the future

carlossainz55 Dreams do come true ig

lewishamilton damn girl teach me your ways

sharls_lerklerk what’s 4 + 4??

estiebestie i need to know what that damn dance looked liked cause wtf

🝮

charles_leclerc

liked by tomholland2013 and 4,455,813 others

charles_leclerc she bamboozled me

yn omg you want me so bad

⤷ charles_leclerc I do want you so bad

⤷ yn my pants were JUST on i swear

♥︎ by charles_leclerc

yn 7 year old me is bouncing off walls rn

♥︎ by charles_leclerc

lando you’re welcome i was part of that plan

⤷ charles_leclerc ugly ass skank

arthur_leclerc seriously just get married you already admitted to having the ring

⤷ charles_leclerc Yeah I can’t believe I just told the whole world that

⤷ lando cause you were being pathetic you bitch

⤷ georgerussell63 Omg loving this beef let’s keep this energy in the new season ❤️

⤷ f1 Let’s not ❤️

alex_albon Cute or whateva

carlossainz55 This calls for celebration! Let’s party like there’s no tomorrow

⤷ yn damn how are things at williams?

⤷ alex_albon excuse me i’ll have you know that he was chugging down coffee and munching on all the food did they not feed him at ferrari?

⤷ f1 Let’s not ❤️

alex_albon So as president of chayn club I will be accepting a check for my undying support over the years

⤷ georgerussell63 and i as vice president

⤷ lando and i as the founder

⤷ danielricciardo and i as secretary

⤷ liamlawson30 and i as treasurer

⤷ charles_leclerc I hope your hungry…for nothing

⤷ lando girl you thought you ate that 😒 i want our checks by the end of the week or i’m never sending you our edits

⤷ charles_leclerc be expecting mail in the next few days ❤️

[real-sizzlipede]

Absolutely agree w this but also adding that gender as a concept is so stupid to me bc like why can’t you be a cis woman who wants society to view you as 100% a woman but also just want a dick? What if you want to be a guy with breasts? Ok?? Sure! I don’t care! If you want to be recognized as a man or a woman or whatever, that’s ok!!! Do whatever you want because unless I am literally you undergoing the procedure or your surgeon who is performing the surgery? IT DOESNT CHANGE MY LIFE ASIDE FROM A FEW WORDS maximum!!!!!! I personally believe you should be allowed to do whatever you want with your body as long as it’s not causing you harm or harming others!! Gender as a societal construct has bullied many people into believing things are set in specific ways and like it’s simply just n o t true. Case in point intersex people exist!!! Abnormalities in gender expression of the body exist!! People are born with differences in hormone levels that are to the point that they affect their body a l l the t I m e!!! People are just born with differing body types a l l the time!!!! Why does society feel the need to put it in little boxes why do women stereotypically have to be cute and soft and feminine and men big and angular and masc just let people be and do whatever they want and wear whatever clothes they want 😭😭😭😭

Anyways I hate it and this is why my gender is just me :) I’m just me :) what gender do I identify with? No. :) I’m just me :)

"you don't have to transition to be trans": overdone, dull, runs cover for taking away medical care from those who need it

"you don't have to be trans to transition": exciting, poignant, radical perspective on the right to bodily autonomy

[fancyperfectionsweets]

❤️‍🔥 Astrology Observations 3❤️‍🔥

🔮 the more charts I observe, the more I understand that the houses the planets are placed in are equally important as the zodiac they are placed in. Let me explain. A virgo venus in 8th house will have the qualities of both virgo and scorpio (since scorpio is the 8th sign of the zodiac). How will it manifest? Your want would be to experience love as a scorpio/understand love as a scorpio (obsessive partner that understands you deeply) but how you go about it would be virgo-nian (not giving in early, paying attention to your partner's finer details like moods, words, actions).

🔮 I have kemdrum yoga in my chart. It's not auspicious, lol. This happens when your moon is sitting alone in a house and the adjacent houses are also empty. It is said to make the moon lonely and since moon needs the sun to reflect light (a.k.a, of highly dependent nature), it makes the person lonely. However, to me it doesn't make me "lonely" but rather harder to adjust in a social space for a long time. I literally am the person who runs out of social battery easily. And if I force myself to be social for a long time, it affects my daily routine (moon is in the 6th house which is the house of daily routines, pets, etc.)

🔮 a debilitated mars doesn't make you incapable of standing up for yourself. It makes you passive aggressive 😭. It makes sense why mars debilitates in cancers. Cancers are the kings and queens of passive agression.

🔮 when it comes to appearances, I've kind of found astrology inconsistent. Many people use nakshatras to predict "features" but even though I have a shravana on my first house, I feel like I embody vishakha more (my sun nakshatra)? The most accurate depiction I could find is the first house appearance reading. Cap rising makes my stature small but my face has the strongest influence of the three planets in the first house that conjunct my ascendant capricorn: Jupiter (enlarged features), uranus (asymmetrical features) and Neptune (doe eyes). Your rising sign signifies your height and your planets influence your appearance.

🔮 I'd always be thankful for my gemini moon for helping me detach from situations and viewing my emotions from a third person perspective. 😪

🔮 pluto conjunct moon in synastry is all about the pluto person wanting to baby the moon person?

🔮 also, men who have lilith conjunct my ascendant are... Ummm... Always tryna be weirdly protective? Like I can come across as scary and bossy to the entire line of men and there will be that one guy who just thinks I need to be "protected" (I love the attention tho🤭)

🔮 moon + neptune + rahu (north node) = delulu pro max of the themes of that house. Worse, moon in the area makes you emotionally vulnerable too

🔮 money placements according to astrologers that I've heard: 11th house and 2nd house connected in any way (e.g., 11th house lord is Capricorn = Saturn's zodiac and Saturn is sitting in the 2nd house, the if the lords exchange positions, that's even better), moon + mars sitting together (called laxmi yog), exalted moon or moon sitting in the second house, Venus sitting in the second, sixth, eleventh or twelfth house, Jupiter in second or eleventh house, ketu in 5th-rahu in 11th (not good for relationships but good for money), if your seventh lord is sitting in either 2nd or 11th house, it indicates to your spouse coming in with money or you get money when you get married

🔮 pluto/scorpio in 7th house or 7th lord in the 8th house/scorpio often points to painful transformations after marriage. If not painful, I've seen people sacrifice their jobs and move for their partners or change job lines or give up their education for their partners.

🔮 I know someone who has a very well adjusted chart (exalted sun, moon, jupiter, mars, uranus, venus, ketu) and the ascendant in Aries. The planets are also in the houses they exalt in: Sun in 1st, moon in 2nd, Jupiter in 4th etc. I gotta say, she's easy to be friends with everyone, is successful with whatever venture she's in, is the favourite child of her parents and a very nice person overall. Her only issue is that she sometimes let's other people take advantage of her kindness even when she KNOWS they're hurting her.

🔮 Moon in Libra, moon in 7th and 19 degree moons is such an attractive person placement. Adriana lima, ariana grande, Megan Fox, Marilyn Monroe all have these placements.

🔮 Mars darkaraka men are toxic imo. Most of these men like toxic women. They seek these women out, feed their toxicity and then act like THEY are the victim in public. Their type is literally "pretty women but toxic". A lot of times these women are "toxic" because these men have painted the women in public like that. 🙄

[ohmy-gojo]

jjk x reader ignoring him prank (nanami, modern!sukuna) ෆ

nanami

— you saw this prank idea on tiktok and had to try it on your beloved ken, deciding on not talking to him unless absolutely necessary all day tomorrow

— next day came, he woke you up with a kiss and greeted you good morning

— instinctively you were about to smooch his entire face with a "g'morningggg ken" but you remembered your prank and just nodded at him and got up

— confused baby but he thought that you were still sleepy

— but this behavior continued all throughout the breakfast too. normally you would sit on the kitchen counter chatting his ears off while he made breakfast, or praise his cooking skills while eating his food but today you were so silent :(

— he even tried to start conversations about some random news but all you said was "oh okay" and "mhm"

— finally decided to confront you before going to work, he cant have you being supposedly mad at him. communication is key! also bc he loved hearing you yapping

— when he finally asked if you were mad at him, you really really tried to maintain a straight face but ended up laughing 😭

— nanami immediately understood what you were up to and deadpanned

— "youre such a menace darling" "im sorry!!" youre still laughing btw

— he shook his head fondly and wrapped his arms around you, "silly girl, i should have known. now about my kiss from the morning-"

— too late. youre already all over his face

sukuna

— he was at the gym

— after finishing his workout, he checked his phone for any messages from you (you send him minutely updates, voice messages begging for gym pics and tiktoks)

— but today there were none

— he just shrugged his shoulders as if he dont gaf (he does, he's sad that you didnt send him any messages today)

— drived home a little faster that day (def not bc hes worried)

— he announced "im home", expected you to jump to his arms with a "welcome home kuna!!" while he tried to shove you off (read:pull you closer) bc he was sweaty like always

— but you were just sitting on the couch reading your stupid book, barely looking at him

— so he said "im home" once again with a louder volume. this time you nodded at him. hm progress

— even after many attempts at getting you to talk ( like 'forgetting' to take the towel so you would come and scold him, but you just left it by the door) he was unsuccessful

— you were still sitting in the damn couch reading your damned book while he was pacing in front of you wondering what he did wrong

— finally hes like "arghhh fuck this" and grabbed your shoulders, asking you what the heck is going on

— you were like "what do you mean😇"

— "why are you ignoring me?!?!" "i am not??🙂"

— after a heavy eye contact session with him you finally dropped your prank and softly laughed "sorry i was just prankin' you"

— his forehead popped a vein. "you little shi-"

— you shut him up with a "welcome home kuna!!" and wrapping your arms around him

— he huffed and puffed a lot but still pulled you closer and tighter

— but not before flicking your forehead and calling you a dumbass😭

note : i think megumi would be cute too with this prank :P he also gives silent bf x talkative gf vibes (this is one of my fav tropes everrr)

[classiccowboy]

instagram j.b.

summary: follow along with joe and his wife evie as they go through his football career.

*face claim yasmin quintana*

series masterlist

evie

liked by joeyb_9, millyg, and others

evie: attached: 3 images

view all 729 comments…

user: i live vicariously through your posts.

> evie: come help me eat these cookies

user: peep the cincy shirt

> evie: 👀

joeyb_9: you didn’t save me any of those cookies? sus. 🤨

> evie: bro you don’t even eat that stuff in season?

> lahjay10_: nah but i do where mine at?

> evie: i’m feeling a little bit attacked. 🫣

> joeyb_9: good. next time you’ll share the cookies.

> user: not the fam fighting over cookies in the comments. 💀

> lahjay10_: we don’t play about the cookies.

joeyb_9

liked by evie, sam_hubbard_, and others

joeyb_9: My earbuds always open - no coverage needed #teambose

view all 947 comments…

user: i’m free any day of the week

> evie: does this include holidays?

user: my lover

> evie: i think we may need to have a conversation.

evie: jb why are you looking at me like that?

> joeyb_9: i can’t help it.

user: sir, i am at work.

> evie: he’s so inconsiderate.

user: respectfully (esp. to ev) you’re gorgeous.

> evie: i mean respectfully you are 1000% correct.

evie

liked by bengals, millyg, and others

evie: love all of my jungle friends

view all 629 comments…

user: fun day at the stadium

bengals: who dey!

> evie: 🧡🧡🧡

millyg: not you throwing back white claws like it’s your job

> evie: i am here for your entertainment.

user: ok slay

joeyb_9: the people’s princess

> evie: 👑👑

user: you look great but the bengals suck

> evie: go easy on my bengies.

lahjay10_: i’m not even going to lie i just knew you were drunk as hell when you came down after press. 🤣

> evie: 🥴

joeyb_9

liked by bengals, lahjay10_, and others

joeyb_9: keep fightin

view all 2,735 comments…

user: we don’t deserve you

evie: you inspire me like no other, i’m so proud of you jb.

> joeyb_9: love you pretty girl.

> user: i melt everytime he calls her “pretty girl” 😭

user: sorry, just so sorry

lahjay10_: 🐐

user: you are the best qb in this league

> evie: all fax no printer

> user: ev.. pls get out the comments. 🤣💀

> evie: ouch. you didn’t like that one?

user: joe you are 0-3 when you wear pink in your game day fit. tell your stylist.

> evie: i will hide all the pink in the closet. ur welcome.

evie

liked by joeyb_9, millyg, and others

evie: probably off doing very important adult things

view all 400 comments…

user: i don’t see why you’d need to dress like this when you’re living off of qb1 salary

> evie: why does everyone think i don’t have a job? 🤣

> user: don’t even act like you work lololol

joeyb_9: does this mean you are treating me to dinner tonight?

> evie: wait a minute??? i’m the one who got a promotion??? doesn’t that automatically mean you pay?

> user: pretending to have a job while eating on daddy’s money. sick.

> user: congrats on the promotion ev!

user: a buisness woman??

> evie: very much so

millyg: mommy?

> evie: its MOTHER to you

user: i’m crying at ur story 🤣💀

joeyb_9

liked by sam_hubbard_ and others

joeyb_9: @alo

view all 1,478 comments…

user: is he saying he has the blues?

user: did you forget about our date?

> evie: you must be confused.

user: win out

evie: is it obvious that my childhood celeb crush was jesse mccartney?

> user: omgggg ev! 🤣 you really said copy paste.

> user: no wait this makes completely sense.

> evie: guys i’m sorry. dare i say i kind of dig the blonde now???? 🫣

> user: you’re just like us.

user: alo king????

user: okay shiesty!

evie’s stories

[causenessus]

hi! i'll keep this short

i came to the realization everytime i've disappeared from tumblr to "take a break" i never really have because of other things going on in my life (which, duh, this isn't my whole life) but! i also realized that if i never actually take the time to recover and rest and think about things i should be writing i'll never feel better. so! i'm (once again)(but now more formally) going on hiatus until maybe may! i might pop in for spring break or earlier if i feel like it, but until then, not really any writing from me! with that being said, i'll still be around, doting on my moots (i.e. like, dorothea <3 wyr <3 and bug <3) because i love them so much and i will probably also post chapters of present ever so often! the reason being (i'm going to try to make this make sense but it may only make sense to me but i'm aware of how contradicting i am to me five seconds ago when i said i need to take a break from writing) present is a very personal fic for me that i've worked on for years at this point. what i'm posting now are chapters i wrote months ago after I've read over and edited them (or in the case of the upcoming chapter, i did randomly add it in and had to write it from the ground up last week lmao) but if it isn't obvious, present is a work i'm very passionate about and am just posting in case anyone else enjoys it but it feels like it's a work that is very individualized just for me and it doesn't cause me any stress or anxiety. on the topic of individualization, although i am of course so so thankful for all of the support and people that follow me, i do sort of miss when my blog and world were a lot smaller. it's something i feel like i only get when i get to reply to people in comments, but other than that, all the numbers and people on my feed give me a lot of anxiety. the hq (smau fandom especially) fandom or at least how much i'm (was) involved in it has grown exponentially and of course i'm happy about that but it's a bit too much for me. i'll be taking a huge step back from the fandom and any hq works i've written at least in the meantime, but that's not to say they'll never be finished! but i either need to grow to handle the bigger audience that now reads my works or wait for things to grow a little smaller again :) i hope to still be able to read my moots works but forgive me if it takes me a bit or i never get to them! i think at the least i'll still like them to show my support <3 thank you if you read my long ramble! i love you all <3

oh also i'll probably post self ship moodboards and the beginning of my reading list (thank you again dorothea for the idea <3)! but again, I think you get the idea by now; I want to go back to doing this for me! so this is a tiny little goodbye now i'm leaving for you all with forehead kisses and flowers and love notes and mwah <3 i'll see you around!

[heartsforjh]

Burdened

Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader Social AU

previous part here

au masterlist

youruser

liked by jaybayleaf, tchalamet, juliaroberts, and others

youruser filming!

view all comments

_quinnhughes 🙂

juliaroberts so happy to see you’re back on set!

youruser i missed it! 🥹

tchalamet new favorite costar

youruser honored 🫶

y/nfan30 YESSSSS

y/nfan31 NEW MOVIE ‼️

loser3 another role that could easily be played better by ANYONE else

_quinnhughes

liked by jackhughes, trevorzegras, lhughes_06, and others

_quinnhughes walkin 💥

view all comments

trevorzegras sty

_quinnhughes 🐐

_elispettersson legend

_quinnhughes love ya bud

quinnfan29 he’s alive omg

quinnfan30 what was he even going for with that caption ?! 😭

quinnfan8

quinnfan8 my shayla’s been looking more burdened by thoughts than usual lately 💔

view all comments

random2 it’s the breakup with y/n

y/nfan32 i mean it’s not been confirmed

quinnfan31 someone hug that man!

y/nfan33 youruser save him

quinnfan32 poor baby

y/nfan34 i only know him from y/n and even i agree with this 😭 why does he look like that

☘︎ part 10 - coming soon !!

☘︎ hi guys! i’m really sorry for being behind on my celly, i too am experiencing my own horrors at the moment, so i hope y’all will enjoy having this for right now 🫠 i promise i have seen your requests and they are in the works!

☘︎ also, sorry… again but i am gonna remind everyone of this one more time, you can join my taglist here to be notified for when i post 🥹

tags: @beenucks @lukey-pookie-hughes43 @azuredawn81 @emsdevs @puckmedude @joesnumerouno @alex-wotton

[the-fab-fox]

I...

TUMBLR.

You. Are. Supposed. To. Be. A. Garbage. Fire.

Nay, a garbage fire within a garbage fire.

Garbage-fire-ception, if you will.

So why, for the love of my patron gods, are you throwing everything I need to, but don't wanna, hear rn. 😭😭😭😭

You're supposed to be my buddy. My pal. My guy. My mate.

And yet you stab me in the back, tell me you like the shoelaces I got from the president, and say "I had to do it to 'em'."

I am Caesar and you are Brute.

Et tu, Tumblr?

Et tu?

young artist posting your work online, heed my warning. im holding your face so gently in my hands, you have to stop caring about numbers right now and start caring about making the weirdest and most self-indulgent art you possibly can

[odasantiago]

Rating all of the current audio rp ships I know of

(Tw: opinions I guess. If you’re really defense about ships then oh well 😭) by the way, this is in NO WAY dissing the creators, it’s just how I see the pair and why I like or dislike them.

- 1) Zaris (Zaros and Earis) from the Noble Trials from ZSakuva

This ship is so beautiful in every way imaginable, the way they pine for eachother so much, at the same time trying to honor their family hurts me so much. It’s so extremely complex and so heartbreaking, doomed yaoi done so well I fear. So nicely written, I have no complaints about them whatsoever.

- 2) DemonDoctor (Albus York and Mahatma) from Bastards Vs Zombies by GoodBoyAudios

The only reason this isn’t at the top is because this ship is newer to be honest, demondoctor is such a sweet pair, you can literally hear everytime they interact that they genuinely Like spending time with eachother, and you can tell the character development from Albus from episode 5, their always somehow together or at least mentions eachother. So excited to see more moments of them in the future.

- 3) Donthus (Dontis and Xanthus) From Xanthus’ series from ZSakuva

They’re a really cute pair, especially for Xanthus, we’ve only seen Xanthus with the bond, but how about without it? That’s we see in the Donthus ship, it may be considered a rare pair but their personalities just scream “I love you so bad but I can’t admit it” , I can’t explain this one as well since we didn’t get a lot of them, but they hold a special place on my heart lol

- 4) Alseth (I made that name up idk what their real ship name is) Alphonse and Seth from bittersweet, by Yuurivoice

I will always defend these two, after so much they’ve really stayed supportive of eachother and their basically soulmates. It’s only this low because I didn’t watch a lot of yuurivoice, and to be honest, I think it would be a bit better if we didn’t get a listener and just see them as two people in love. (My opinion though)

- 5) Cermond (Cervantes and Edmond) from Not in Front of the Dinner Darling by Escaped audios

Now, if we were talking about how I SEE Cermond before they were vampires, this would’ve been easily number 3. But in their canon version, we haven’t seen a lot of them. Don’t get me wrong, I LOVEEEEEE Cervantes and I mean I LOVE him. It’s just that on the surface they are toxic, you can kinda understand though since they are.. vampires and went through a lot. But it’s so sweet how they’ve stayed together for so long. It’ll probably be on a higher spot when the series progresses LOL

- 6) Warriorfaith (I made that up too) Albus and Faith from Bastard Warrior by GoodBoyAudios

Now, don’t come at me for this, I just don’t dig them that much. I love their dynamic and how their written, that’s why it isn’t super duper low. They are super lovely and sweet, but realistically, I can’t see them together. (Especially after that last episode..) its probably because I wasn’t obsessed with bastard warrior LOL

- 7) Guestslayer (I MADE THAT UP TOO!) Guest and Alfonso from Matador Gothic by Escaped Audios.

Now, this is the first one that I didn’t necessary like, their not badly written at all DONT get me wrong, I’m very used to slow burn so that could account for my feelings on that as well, they’re cute! I’ll admit, it just wasn’t for me LOL. (MG is really good though please don’t get me wrong guys)

-8) Stacy and Jean (yeah I don’t have a name for them) from New Orleans Rats by Escaped Audios

These two are just straight up toxic, imma keep it a buck, I love the whole cast for NJR but Stacy just tricked Jean tbh 😭 jean definitely deserved intern because GOSH that would’ve been bad if they didn’t break up

That’s all! Again, I am NOT dissing the creators, I am simply saying which ships are for me and which ones aren’t. These are all amazing series and that’s the main reason I know these ships, i really don’t care if any of yall like the ones that I ranked low, they’re just not for me! But go see all of these series if you haven’t, they are all really amazing.

[lunityviruss]

Why are bitches in the void state community so fucking aggressive and mean for no reason. Likeeee why am I getting cussed out because I wanted to scroll the ‘void state success story’ tag and just see what people did/manifested because I’m fucking curious? And y’all’s egos be through the fucking roof, I just blocked multiple creators for just being mean for legit no reason at all. You’re making fun of a persons blog layout and their methods for what?? Like alot of y’all are carrying this wannabe Regina George mean girl energy and being extremely hostile to people who just wanna help other people manifest.

It’s understandable if you snap out on people for spamming you, telling you: “omg me help get into voiddddd 🥺🥺”. But if you’re mad because some people online made a fucking PACT to help each other out and get into the void you gotta check yourself. You bitches love the word limitless and how “we’re extremely powerful” but the moment people wanna manifest something together it’s a problem. WHO CARES? At the end of the it should only matter if people got into the void or not. Stop bitching and whining that another technique is trending and just be happy that people found a way to the void that just works for them. Especially when it’s harmless shit, if someone spreads misinfo about the void, yeah correct them you don’t need to drag them tho? Don’t come up here tryna be fucking negative it’s the last thing we need rn

[justallihere]

chapter 8 - chapter 11

The fuck is Hedeon the god of

I’d love some expansion on this pantheon of gods I’m so serious where has this worldbuilding been for 2 books

Politics and people and names and now deities just thrown out there carelessly?? Ma’am we should’ve known more about the basics of this world by now

Who the FUCK promoted Aetos

I’m glad the Senarium (??) is here doing things and whatnot but where’s the Assembly. Where’s Felix. Where’s my dad. Devera must be missing her boyfriend

So Halden is definitely Violet’s ex huh

Sigh

Going to Samara seems? Pointless? But okay. Degrensi seems fun

Am I back on my precognition bullshit with this weird nightmare of Violet’s? You better believe it! (jk it’s probably Cat’s dream)

I’m just reading this fight and have no energy to comment on it but Tairn!!! Chradh!! Hello come back be well come join us again

Also I love Garrick

He’s a….wind wielder. Not? What I expected? But sure!

WHY DOES THE SILVER HAIRED VENIN WIELD LIGHTNING

THAT FEELS LIKE TOO MANY COINCIDENCES IN ONE

Hold on

HOLD THE FUCK ON

IS GARRICK?

DOES HE?

HE DOESNT RIGHT

“the walker” ???

Hi Theophanie nice to meet you are you Xaden’s mom?

IRID I love learning new words about the dragons

Oh irid like iridescent it’s not that original lmao

No not mom ok

Bye Theophanie see you soon new bestie. I think I might like you unfortunately

“do not dehydrate on my account” as Violet’s about to cry Tairn I’m so glad you’re all right 😭

GARRICK DOES HAVE A SECOND SIGNET WHAT THE FUCK

HELLO????

WHAT THE HELL ARE THE TYRS DOING

If all the marked ones have second signets I might dnf no joke. I’ll never shut up because what the fuck is that

Are Marbh and Andarna besties? Andarna we don’t trust him or Brennan babe stop tattling

[starmocha]

(me yapping so much in the tags is how i found out the limit is 30 tags 🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠 so here's the rest of my thoughts 😭😭😭)

ROXIEEEEEEEE ILYSM THIS IS AN INSTANT FAVE AND GONNA BE MY FREQUENT REREAD

HUGGGINGGGGG YOUUUU SQUEEZING YOUUU OMG

i'm so glad to have you as my fellow caleb girlie in my life

sniffling these little caleb ficlets of yours always hitting such the right spot

ilysm wishing you to always have sweet dreams and no more nightmares

✨️manifesting only caleb dreams for you✨️

💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

≡;-꒰ 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐁 ꒱₊˚ ପ⊹ I  𝒃𝒂𝒃𝒚, 𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔 𝒊𝒕 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓

╰┈➤ ❝ caleb x afab!reader | smut nsfw 18+ mdni

tags : pwp (with plot; honestly more fluff-centric with a lil smut towards the end <3), mention of nightmares, comfort, kissing, cuddling, heavy petting, dry humping, praise, dirty talk, inappropriate use of evol (kinda), use of pet names "baby" "princess", + "pipsqueak" like… once. lmk if i missed any tags !

wc : 2.4k

an : AAAAA i gave in 😭 some of you may know that im a chronic nightmare haver and. absolutely nothing . n o thi ng !!!!!!!!! is going to stop me from writing fluffy smut with the love of my life JSNFBWHF (++ mildly inspired by @starmocha 's post, ily you keep me (in)sane <3)

taglist : under the cut! (SIGN UP HERE)

KO-FI JAR / COMMISSIONS

You can't sleep, but at least he's right there to help you.

"Caleb…"

It started with a soft nudge.

"Caleb?"

There was no reply.

Your head lifted then, momentarily leaving the comfort of the pillow… only to be met with stillness. You could feel a huff threatening to spill from your lips, ever indignant over moments of lack of attention from him—yet, the dark of the room reminded you exactly where you were. A glance at the clock on his bedside table showed you an hour you shouldn't be awake at; not normally, at least. And if that wasn't enough, then the silent, sleeping figure next to you would have proved it.

It wasn't fair to wake him up. You were the odd one out.

And, yet…

And, yet…

You pursed your lips.

A beat.

Two beats.

Three.

"Caaaaleeebbb…."

His name turned into a whine, and this time, you sat up, reaching to roll him over onto his back.

Thankful as you were of his general attentiveness to you, you watched a little wave of recognition wash over him.

"…Hmh? Pip..squeak…?"

A hand reached out to rub at his eyes, voice thick and raspy, the lower octave jumping out to you. And with that unfocused gaze, and those slow movements… He wasn't quite awake.

Sheepishly, you pawed at his arm.

"Sorry, can't sleep…" you mumbled.

"Mmm… That's a shame, 'cause I sure can…"

You looked at him with a frown.

Still asleep, my ass.

The lazy smile on his face contrasted with the droopy eyes his expression still wore, and yet, he was still clearly awake enough to tease. You knew he was only getting under your skin on purpose, but nevertheless, you wanted at least a smidge of comfort—you huffed in an indignant manner, reaching out to give his shoulder a little punch in protest.

At your motions, he laughed quietly.

"Alright, alright. C'mere."

He reached out to ruffle your hair, and there was a slight moment of pause. You watched him scan your figure—there was a sort of appreciation to it, a soft, fond gaze that felt a lot like… Home. And then with a yawn and a stretch, his arms tugged you closer to his body until you hadn't much of a choice but to roll over on top of him, his arms circling around your torso to gently hold you in place against him.

"Better?" he murmured.

You could feel the rise and fall of his chest, the little thrum of his voice as he spoke—it was a low whisper in your ear, still somewhat fighting the sleep from his tone, but just soft enough to lull you into a sense of comfort.

A small smile spread on your lips.

"Mhm," you nodded against him; "A little."

He allowed you to move and adjust yourself over him, legs resting neatly on either side of his waist, your body curled right into him with your head resting right above where his heart would be.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

You smiled.

He felt safe.

"...Only a little, though? What's up? Nightmare?"

There was a yawn to his voice, and slowly, you felt him begin to absentmindedly run his hand up and down your back.

In truth, he didn't need to ask. He knew you well enough—you were like this often; there weren't reasons otherwise to why you would be awake at this hour. And he knew, too—there would be no sleeping for you until you could forget whatever images you'd seen in your head just moments ago. You needed a distraction.

He would provide it.

You felt him nuzzle his nose into your hair, planting a series of chaste kisses, the pad of his thumb placing a little bit more pressure onto your back if only to reassure you that he was there.

That everything would be alright.

"Mm… Hard to close my eyes when I can still see it…" You sighed and tilted your head, chin resting atop his chest as you cherished the way his other hand had moved to gently stroke through your hair.

"Yeah? S'okay, I'll stay up with you." You could see the way the sleep had more or less worn off of his features, almost as if the only thing that mattered to him in the moment was staying alert enough to help you fall back asleep first.

It was kind of adorable.

Your eyes softened, enough to let out a playful roll of your eyes. "Aww, look at you being all warm and caring~"

"And, what? You'd rather I not be? Says the girl who's always come runnin' back to me after falling and scraping her knee at the playground!"

"Hey, that's different! It really hurt, you know?! You were there!"

"Uh-huh. And might I add you were runnin' from some supposed ghost of the swing set, just 'cause it wouldn't stop moving?"

"Ugh, don't you bring that back! I didn't understand the laws of physics yet! What else can you do when you're ten and not a science gal?!" The smug little smirk on his face was infuriating enough, and were you not so comfortably snuggled up in his arms, you'd have reached out to smack it off of him yourself. "I am not a kid anymore, thank you very much."

But if you thought he'd use your indignance to push your buttons a little further, to your surprise, his only response was a chuckle. His head leaned down to kiss the top of your forehead; "'Course I know that, you're all grown up now. Just… Where would you be without me, am I right?" He smiled, and this time, his hand slide over from the top of your head over to the side of your face. Gently, gently, he coaxed your head up a little bit, palm cupping your cheek with a little caress of his thumb. "Some things don't change. And since you are my princess, then I gotta give you the princess treatment."

Giggling a little, you shifted slightly to nuzzle your nose against his. "…Geez. Okay, I concede. 'Specially when you call me that."

"Princess? You really like that one, huh?"

And despite the laugh in his voice; despite the playful roll of his eyes right back at you, he leaned in to place a soft kiss on your lips.

One kiss.

Two.

Light, feathery touches that fall into soft, breathy laughs—

Another kiss, and then another.

Slowly, you found yourselves lost in a quiet moment of feeling each other like this, foreheads pressed together, fingers gently running through strands of hair.

So close— so… comforting.

"Feelin' better, baby?" he murmured.

And you realized that the pointless bickering, the little bit of reminiscing—all that he'd done by means of pulling you far away from your dreams and into the reality that you shared with him.

Because it was really, truly, all that mattered in the end.

Smiling softly, your gaze dropped back to his lips as you placed a little kiss to each corner, cherishing the soft huff of laughter that fell from his own.

"Mhm," you whispered. "Much, much better."

So close, so comforting.

You could look into his eyes—warm, and pretty, and so inherently him—and they would be the only things you'd care to look at.

"D'you wanna sleep now? Or…" There was a playful lilt to the way he spoke, and his eyebrow raised—you could feel him press your lower back a little bit more against him, the subtle way his hand dipped lower to rest upon the curve of your ass. You didn't miss the smirk that edged at his lips. "If you're not sleepy yet, I could think of a couple ways to make you sleepy…"

Typical Caleb.

You swat at his arm playfully, a louder laugh falling from your lips. "Caleb! It's, like, three in the morning! I though you were sleepy?!"

"Uh, yeah, I am. But clearly you aren't."

"But that's 'cause—!"

You caught the roll of his eyes as he leaned up to give you another little kiss, and then promptly gave you a look.

"Heyyy. It'd help you sleep, right?" he offered a lazy smile. "And I told you I'd help you. You're in a pretty ideal position too, you know."

You were used to being curled up on his chest like this, but now that he'd suggested it, you had to realize that he was right—and perhaps as a little test, perhaps because you couldn't help it, you gave a little experimental roll of your hips.

The immediate gasp was more of a reaction than you'd expected, and then even you couldn't help the knowing smirk from spreading across your features.

"Shit— oh, that's how we're doin' this, huh?" He spoke through gritted teeth, but his hands had already slid down to rest at your hips. "Gonna use me to get yourself off, s'that it?"

"You suggested it!" you shot back, "don't you take back your words!"

"Oh, don't you worry about that. No way in hell am I takin' back anythin', princess." Another lazy grin despite the firm hold he had on your hips, and he cocked his head to the side. "Well? Go on, baby, do your thing."

It was near embarrassing how easily he could have you dripping wet with just his words, with his voice, yet you knew with certainty that you could have the same effect—every tentative roll of your hips brought out such delicious sighs from his lips, and you could watch with glee the way his eyes would flutter shut. You'd never been more grateful for the thin fabric of your pajamas; the stiff outline of his erection pressed so perfectly against you that the barrier almost didn't matter at all.

"Caleb…" you gasped. You'd fall into him as the movement of your hips sped up, and you could already feel the messy slick that had seeped right through your clothing.

"Keep goin' baby, just like that. Lemme feel you…" One hand slid back up your body, dipping beneath your shirt to caress your skin. "Such a pretty lil princess. You like this, huh? Grindin' all over me like this?"

His palm pressed into your skin—more, he mouthed. Faster.

And you nearly cried as you swallowed your own moans against his lips, feeling the way his hands dug back into your hips, urging you, urging you, guiding your hips into a frenzied rhythm.

Mindless.

Needy.

"M-mmhf, not— mm—! N-not enough, need m— mm—!" You moaned between kisses, and your eyes nearly rolled back into your head as the pressure around you steadily increased.

You knew what he was doing.

The minute he pulled back from your lips to take in the dazed look in your eyes, lips nearly red and swollen, you could see the surge of pride flash in his eyes.

"C-Caleb…" you whined. The hold on your hips was nearly bruising, but it was nothing compared to the way he'd push you so harshly against him, practically digging the shape of his cock into the dampness of your clothing. Slowly, slowly, you felt the cool air of the night hit your thighs, your wet slick mapping over his cock as your pajamas slid down to expose your panties.

Your hands gripped tightly onto his arms—

He wasn't lifting a finger.

"Ch-cheater…!" You huffed. "You can't…! C-can't use—hnng— y-your evol, like…!"

He only chuckled. "No? You said you needed more, though. C'mon, baby… S'okay, I got you. Gonna make you feel so good."

You groaned, burying your head into his chest, allowing him to move your hips as he saw fit.

Every needy drag and grind of your clothed cunt right against him had you soaking his clothing, pushing onto him, chasing that friction. And now that he wasn't kissing you—now that he had his hands free to roam your body, to tangle into your hair, to feel you…

He chuckled, pressing his lips down to your ear. "That’s right, moan so pretty f'me. Lift your head a lil, let me hear you, baby. Tell me how good you feel."

The tip of his cock grazed your clit, and your nails nearly dug into him with a cry. "W-wait—!"

Obedient.

You lifted your head to look at him, but your gaze refused to focus. A blur of hazy pleasure had you panting, moaning incoherent words…

He wasn't even in you yet.

"C-Caleb, wait, I need… I need you, ple— please, please, just fuck me, I-I can't…!"

You shivered, feeling his fingers reach up to trail the side of your neck with ghostly touches.

"You really do wanna make me do all the work, huh…"

"N-no, I, I just…!"

"Wanna cum, right? Well, nothin' here to stop you, baby. C'mon… You can do it, I know you can. I'm helpin' you already, you know?"

Your chest heaved, and you knew he was right. Every movement had you nearly crying, your hips rutting against him and nearly jerking each time he would lift to grind up into you. The pressure from his evol made you dizzy, and you could feel the pleasure building, and building, and building—

Out of the blurry haze of your vision, you could see him give you another smirk, and his lips were back against your ear.

"Cum for me, baby."

He pressed you tight against him, forcing himself to feel you, groaning into your ear at the way your body shook with a pleasure so undeniable.

"There we go, there we go, that's it..." Soft murmurs into your hair, hands rubbing comfortingly over your back. And as the intensity of your orgasm slowly faded away, you felt him pepper kisses into your hair, his arms wrapped around you in a hug so secure.

You were aching, sensitive. He was right; you could feel the fatigue settling over your body, every heave of your chest slowly lulling you to sleep—

He wasn't about to let you.

He flipped you over within seconds, his eyes raking over your body so intensely that you keened under the drag of his gaze.

It didn't matter that you'd begun to feel a little sleepy; you knew he wasn't done with you.

"C- Caleb, you…"

He brought a finger down to your cunt, your slick gathering in an instant. He brought it up to his lips; gave a little bit of lick. "Such a mess. Ugh, sorry, baby, I think I won't be able to sleep 'til I get my fill… Let me stay up a bit longer?"

A press to your clit had you doubting the puppy-like gaze he'd given you, and you groaned—

So hard to resist.

"You're making this up to me in the morning…"

taglist : @darlingdummycassandra @milkandstarlight @thoupenguinman @valyvinny @rafayelsheart @jellyroom2 @chemiru @ywnzn @pepprrmint @angel-jupiter @cordidy @raiyuxa @xai-mery @pikachuzhc @pixelcafe-network @interstellar-inn @hunters-association

an : that thing with the swing.. that's uh. that's based on personal experience. 😭

© rose-tinted-kalopsia. all rights reserved. do not: steal, copy, repost, reupload, modify, or claim any of my works as your own, regardless of credit given. absolutely do not use my works for AI training and other related purposes.

[messrsrarchives]

You’re starting to act just like your fascist Reggie���censoring others and trying to dictate what can and cannot be discussed in fandom. Telling people they can’t talk about politics because you, living in a first-world country, can’t handle it? You’re the one using real-world politics to justify a fictional ship with a fascist. Have you thought about how people who are genuinely anti-fascist might also dislike it in fiction? You can’t control fandom. If you want to like fascist characters, then just own it. While fiction might not feel like reality to you, for many, it is reality. Have you considered that the characters and headcanons you enjoy might reflect deeply personal experiences for others? Not everyone has the privilege to separate fiction from reality like you do.

hi feed, this message was brought to you by someone who has clearly never interacted with me ever !

WDYMMM "telling people they can't talk about politics" 😭😭 i fear that's my ENTIRE niche across two social media platforms. i fear my entire thing is politics in a fandom space + the real world. i fear that's literally what i'm known for. what 😖

i was gonna ignore this but i have so many receipts that i thought okay ! finna answer ! why not, let's entertain this <3 (below the cut because it's long)

assuming that this is a response to this post where, after watching elon perform two nazi salutes on stage, i said "hey! maybe you should stop calling people in fandom nazis for reading about a fictional character!"

what i alsooo said on that post is that it's important to discuss politics in literature (see here: doing a masters degree in english literature + politics <3). because absolutely! the DEs are crafted in a way that reflects historic events and absolutely, that's something we can discuss!

what we should also discuss is that whilst art imitiates life and life imitates art, the two do not directly reflect one another - if i read about wizards, i am not a wizard. if i read a crime book, i am not a detective. and if i read fanfic about regulus black? i am not a facist.

in regards to the censorship comment: this here is an entireeee video i made about censorship and puritanical views in fandom spaces and why this is a Bad Thing To Do (though i fear you will disagree with it because i am saying that people can read and write whatever but alas, no censorship here x)

using real world politics to justify a ship? no, not at all. i do not think ships in fandom need to be "justified" because, again, they are fiction. can they be discussed? absolutely! my tiktok is @/messrsrobyn and you will find countless videos where i dissect fandom, characters and ships. again, this is kind of my whole thing <33 nice to meet you <33 but rather for me? that post was made as a building up of (1) the mass of people in fandom during the tiktok ban saying that words have meaning when american writers say british words "wrong", but throw buzzwords around like it's nothing and (2) this is a place for escapism and safety, which is needed now more than ever and whilst discussions about politics are important, this? this ask? this is not a discussion. this is hostility, much like people just commenting "nazi" with nothing else on a jegulus post.

discussions can be had! absolutely! my entire thing is discussions in fandom. but right now i'm trying to discuss this when you have given me nothing to work with but false claims and hostility - see how this doesn't work? but alas, i'll try :)

do people read jegulus and think "wow i love voldemort and the death eaters!!! i agree with what the did here :D" or do they read jegulus and enjoy the complexity that comes with a character like him? do they enjoy how, with a character with such little canon lore, people explore things? or yk what, do they sometimes read him as a muggle where none of this matter because there's do DEs? yeah, because it's fiction. and liking a fictional character does not have repercussions on the real world.

calling someone a facist/nazi only for teading about fictional characters does - it is so incredibly important that we read immoral literature. i'm rambling now but i'm not even talking just about fandom. we NEED books that discuss these topics and we need to explore the characters within them. we NEED politics and immorality and everything like that in books because that is how we learn, understand, and prevent. reading them does make you immoral - see here: queer books being banned in the us for containing "immoral themes" and main characters doing things they deem had and awful alongside INCREDIBLYYYY important books like the handmaids tale, to kill a mockingbird, 1984, fahrenheit 451 etc etc.

we need to read these. we need to engage with them.

but in a fandom space, we also need to acknowledge that these are not real people. these are fictional characters and there's a big difference between engaging with a character because you are justifying their actions, and engaging with a character because you enjoy Exploring their character and Understanding them in as many ways as possible 🙂↕️

but we agree!! whilst fiction may not feel like reality to some people, to many it is! so have we considered that when people come to escape from the real world for a bit, or people have family members lost to past regimes; are about to enter 4 years of another regime or are holding their breath waiting for european elections to see if another far-right populist party gets in, it might sucklk to have this thrown around?

imagine dealing with alllll of that in reality, not knowing what on earth is going to happen tomorrow or what the future holds for you and the people you love, and then being called a facist online because you read about Fictional Character Regulus Black. whilst your life literally crumbles apart because of it. you are now being called the same thing that the man oppressing you and everyone you love is, because you read FanFiction.

and then finally ahem:

"not everyone has the privilege to separate fiction from reality like you do"

if you click here, you will find a tumblr post i made about this exact thing :D about how we can't separate fiction from reality

see here also: a post about the books jkr publishes under the robert galbraith pseudonym and about how we, again, cannot separate fiction from reality.

if you click here you will find my jkr playlist on tiktok which has videos in about how, again, we cannot separate fiction from reality.

what we also can't do, mind you is call someone a facist for reading a fictional character.

there is big difference between "hey! this character has facist undertones if applied irl, we could discuss this!" and "You Are A Facist For Reading It"

instead of coming and ranting to someone who has spoken extensivelyyyy about politics in this fandom space - both with fandom material and with elections, gaza, the uk riots etc etc - and is a huge advocate of dicussions and debates, put this energy into something productive.

like actual facists. real world politics and what you could be doing at a local level to help reduce the harm of Actual Facists that are in power right now. not people taking a break from Actual Facism to read fanfiction.

ta x

(p.s i'm a homeless, chronically-ill, gay, trans man. what privilege do i have in THISSS fandom space of JK ROWLINGSSSSS worlds, to separate reality from fiction? 😭)

[vettelsvee]

COME WHAT MAY SERIES Prologue (previous): A phone call and a new beginning

⋆ Hey everyone! I'm almost done writing the first part of Come What May series and, since many of you are waiting for it and, also, asking me when I'll be posting... here's the beginning of the chapter and its name! ⋆ Special tags to @hc-dutch @raavadakedavra @coffeedestroyingperson @evey-kuznetskova @bowielovesyou @chaoswithus @isotopemylove @iceman-kazansky @residentdemonhunter @astronomyandfrogs @herdetectivetheorist @prttylight @i-love-sirius-black7 @dreamauri for being interested in this series <3 And of course special thanks to @maripiastri because Come What May series wouldn't exist without her 😭 ⋆ Also... let me know if you'd like me to post the chapter this week instead of next one! I'm open to suggestions, comments and questions too 🤠

"Sometimes I wonder if, besides whether I deserve everything I've achieved, I'm actually doing good enough to keep it. I mean... do I deserve my position at Red Bull, or are they just keeping me because Seb was the one who got me in, and now I'm also Mark's girlfriend? And about that last part... am I really what my boyfriend deserves, or, like dad says, is it just a passing fling of a few months where I only want to sleep with him as some sort of stress relief? Seb says that, as long as Mark makes me happy, that's what matters, but... does Mark really make me happy? Or is it..."

"I'll open the door, Dad!"

Louisa's voice, your little sister, snapped you back to reality.

Carefully, you put away the diary your best friend gave you, and your main source of therapy, in the nightstand drawer. Then, you jumped out of bed with a joy you hadn't felt in a long time.

You walked over to your desk, gently moving aside the scattered notes you still hadn't cleaned up despite having finished the semester two weeks ago. You made sure you looked as presentable as possible. Your hair, which fell over your shoulders, was perfectly straightened, though your bangs needed a little fixing. You decided to apply some lip balm as well not just to keep your lips hydrated, but to give them a little extra shine.

Then, somehow nervously for reasons you didn't want to recognize, you decided to adjust your clothes focusing on your own reflection, trying to come with positive affirmations about how everything you got was absolutely deserved.

You knew all too well that Sebastian Vettel was your best friend but, somehow, you always tried not only to look as perfect as possible in front of him, but also to let him know that you were truly worthy of his friendship.

No matter how much the German had cherished you since you both met in 2008, when you joined Toro Rosso as an intern and he was one of the team's drivers, you always had the feeling of not being for enough for him... Of not being worth to be close to him.

Suddenly, the door swung open, revealing your two younger sisters.

"Why are you taking so long?" Amelie, 15, asked. "It's not like your boyfriend is the one who came..."

"Yeah, yeah! Why are you extra pretty today?" the youngest, Louisa, who was 8, chimed in. "Seb is already downstairs waiting for you. He's talking to dad and uncle Hans, and I think they're talking about soccer. It's super boring."

"Shut up, would you?" the middle sister scolded the youngest, giving her a light tap on the shoulder. "Ignore her," she said to you. "What they're really doing is trying to figure out why Sebastian came over today and, more importantly, why he's staying with us for a few days. Care to explain?"

Your eyes widened because, as far as you remembered the conversation you had, Seb never mentioned anything about staying with you.

"What do you mean staying with us? Seb really said that?"

"Uncle Hans thinks he's just your friend, but dad thinks you're sleeping with him at the same time as Mark," Amelie replied.

"How could I be sleeping with Seb?!" You shouted, pulling your sisters into your bedroom and slamming the door shut. "That's... that's ridiculous. Yeah, that's what it is," you finished, trying your best not to curse and, also, trying to calm your nerves.

"But if dad says it, it must be true, Y/N," Lou said, a little annoyed. "You know dad never lies to us."

That was a lie, and you knew it perfectly. However, for her was just... the reality you made her live in since Bernhard, your dad, told the three of you he was dying from cancer.

"Listen to me, both of you," you cut in, ignoring their words. "I need you to behave and promise me something."

Amelie and Louisa exchanged curious glances before looking back at their older sister.

"I don't want you to mention anything Mark related in front of Seb. No jokes, no offhand comments about how much you dislike him... Absolutely nothing. Got it?"

"Why can't I tell Seb that I don't like Mark even it's the truth? Do I have to lie to him?" Lou asked innocently. "You always say we don't have to lie."

"Well, because..."

"If you're doubting so much it's because you really are fucking Seb. Don't get me wrong, but..."

"Amelie, watch your mouth, you're not alone!" you shouted, cursing her off while glancing at the youngest of you three.

"What does fucking mean? Does it mean you're boyfriend and girlfriend?" Louisa asked again, curious and innocent.

"Seb doesn't have a girlfriend anymore, okay?"

Your statement left the other two stunned. Louisa had really liked Hanna since she had always been nice to all of you whenever you'd met. Amelie, on the other hand, started wondering why the German driver, who had seemed so in love with his girlfriend for years, had suddenly broken up with her.

"Seb isn't with Hanna anymore?"

[rosenclaws]

HIII you don’t know how happy i am to have stumbled on your treasure chest of an account 😭 the way you portray characters is exactly how i’ve imagined them!!! especially leopold ♥️ i’m so glad there’s an active writer for him who writes so beautifully!!

i was hoping to request a fluff fic for leopold where reader teaches kids (5-7 yrs old) and leo visits reader at their workplace. the kids do know of readers few/past boyfriends and they weren’t too fond of any of them, but they really really love leo 🫂 reader does like leo but is unaware the feelings are mutual, so the kids help leo out in trying to win their heart ♥️ (and maybe work in the element of daisies? they’re reader’s/my fave flower lolol)

she/her pronouns are good but you can also do gn! thank ü sm ⭐️ hope you’re having a great day!!!

a/n: Truth be told I've been neglecting Leopold. I've written so much Logan and I love Logan but Leopold is who truly captured my heart. I'm a little rusty but I hope you like it!! Also DAMN HES SO HANDSOME ITS CRIMINAL

Of all the days to be running late today was possibly the worst. You completely forgot about a very important meeting and you could not be late for it. You were scrambling around your apartment when someone knocks at the door.

Not the time.

As you grab your bag you throw open the door to see Leopold standing there. A smile on his face as he greets you good morning. Though he quickly notices your rushed and panicked face.

“Are you ready for coffee?”

“Hi Leo, I’m so sorry I forgot I have this meeting and I’m already late and-“ Leopold places his hands on your arms, getting you to stop moving. You feel a warmth spread through your body from his touch.

“It’s alright darling, we can go another time.” He flashes that perfect smile and for a second you hesitate to move. But you really can’t be late.

“Thank you, you can hang out here if you want. Bye Leo.” You rush past him and he just smiles. He thinks you’re adorable when you’re flustered like that.

Truth be told Leopold doesn’t like coffee. He finds it bitter and gross and nothing compared to the wonders of tea. But when he met you and you had asked him to coffee. He just couldn’t say no.

You were one of Kate’s friends from college and ever since that day he had become entranced by you. So he sat through sipping coffee if it meant he got to speak to you. He notices a bag sitting on your counter. Furrowing his brows he takes it and looks inside. It’s your lunch. He frowns when he sees the processed food and quite unhealthy snacks inside. He knows you’re busy but he’s talked to you about this. You’re a very busy women and he worries about your habits and health. He tosses the bag in the fridge and heads out. Determined to make sure you get your lunch.

”Alright class! Finish up your drawings so we can have story time!” You announce to your students who were very deep into their artworks. There was paint all over your smock and glitter everywhere. Your stomach growls and you groan as you sit down at your desk. You forgot your lunch this morning and you were absolutely starving.

“Miss! I’m finished!” Penny, one of your students, calls. She holds up her artwork with a big toothy grin.

“Beautiful Pen!” You get up and bend down near her desk.

“Why don’t you sign it and we can put it in the back to let it dry.” She nods and messily writes her name in the corner.

There's a loud knock at the door and suddenly one of the admin appears in the doorway. You walk over and see a smirk on her face.

“You have a visitor, a very handsome one.” She whispers that last part as you look over her shoulder and see Leopold.

She leaves and Leopold smiles, you lead him into your class which catches the attention of all your students. He probably looked a little odd all dressed up in his old clothing.

“Leo? What are you doing here?”

“You forgot your lunch.” He hands you a few containers. This was not the lunch you had packed yourself.

“I’ve warned you of the dangers of processed food,” He says with a raised eyebrow.

“I know, I just don’t have a lot of time.” You sigh.

“I am aware, so I made you lunch.” Your heart flutters as you look inside. All the food looks amazing, especially the cookies he knows you love.

"Thank you Leo."

"I've noticed more often than not you don't prepare yourself adequate food," You look down, a little embarrassed at being called out.

"So, I decided I'm going to start making you lunch."

"Oh no you don't have to do that-" You start but he cuts you off. A very determined look on his face.

"I insist, please." The very idea makes your heart burst but its too kind of an offer. But its a really good one.

"Okay fine. But I buy the groceries and only until I can start making them for myself again." He smiles and accepts your conditions.

"I must go, but I will see you tomorrow." He bows his head and leaves your classroom.

He throws you a wink right before he leaves and your heart skips. You feel a tug at your pants and you look down to see one of your students Avery.

"Miss, is he a real prince?" She looks up at him with wide eyes. Avery had been in her princess mood and you can't blame her for thinking Leopold had popped right out of a storybook.

"Uh, no sweetie. He's just a friend of mine."

"But he looks just like a prince! If you marry him you could be a princess and we'd have a princess teacher!" She exclaims.

The class starts to agree with her and you try and calm them down. Thankfully their attention shifts when you pull out a book for story time. You were just thankful they forgot about it, or you thought they had.

Visits from Leopold had become a class staple. He'd show up every day to bring you lunch. When you asked why he didn't just give it to you in the morning he told you that this was much more eventful. The kids became obsessed with him and Leopold fed into their curiosity and imagination with ease.

Eventually you just told the school he was a volunteer so he could stick around more. He became your classes favorite story teller. At first he'd read a book or two but he grew bored of those stories and would retell his favorite stories and plays from his childhood, getting the children to act them out with him. He some how got a room of 6 year old's to give him their undivided attention. That isn't and easy feat.

"Leopold! Can you read this one?" Avery hands him one of her fairytale books.

He's sitting on the ground with the kids all around him. His previous prince like clothing was gone and instead he was dressed more modern. You had to admit you missed the flashy and fancy clothes.

Not that he didn't look good in modern clothing, he looks good in everything. You had a feeling though that Avery and the rest of the class had something up their sleeves. They were far too giggly and had mischievous looks on their faces.

"Of course love. A love story? I do find myself reading these from time to time." As he starts the story he offers someone to come play the prince but no one budges.

"We want you to play him!" Avery says with a giggle. Leopold raises an eyebrow but agrees.

"Alright, now the prince needs to have a princess doesn't he?"

"Miss should be the princess!" One of your other students pipes up.

"Me? I don't know guys I'm not really the best actress." You say but they don't care.

You're half dragged out of your chair and to the front of the room. You sit next to Leo and flash him an apologetic smile. From out of nowhere two kids bring the two of you flower crowns. They must have made them at recesses. It's a little small and Leopold's barely fits on his head but it was cute.

"You know instead of a story we should have a wedding!" Penny pipes up.

"A Wedding? Guys where is this coming from?" You say with a laugh, trying to hide your nerves.

"My mommy said a wedding is what two people who really like each other have!" The kids murmur in agreement and you sigh.

"It's alright darling, why not entertain them for today?" Leopold whispers in your ear.

He seems more than okay with being thrust into a kid planned fake wedding. It was quite amusing watching your students try and figure out what they were supposed to do.

They had cut up some paper and used them as flower petals, which they were going to have to clean up before lunch you noted. It was adorable listening to them talk though, as you sat next to Leo you found yourself unable to hold back your smiles.

"You may now kiss the bride!" Your eyes widen as you shake your head.

"Okay that's enough torturing our friend, its clean up time now." You say, putting a stop before things could go too far.

Not that you didn't want to kiss Leopold, but you didn't want him to feel forced to kiss you because your students put on a fake wedding.

"Awww," A chorus of kids groaned as you sent them back to the desk. Though once the lunch bell rings they all seem to forget their sadness.

"Sorry for all of that, I don't know what got into them." You say as you sit at your desk. Leopold had pulled up a chair right next to you. Your lunch being shared between the two of you.

"It's alright, I enjoyed the wedding." He hums as he picks a daisy from his hair. He twirls it around in his fingers before handing it to you.

"For you, my beautiful bride." You bite your lip as you take the flower from his hand, your skin brushing up against each other.

"Thank you my husband." You stick it behind your ear. Leopold stares lovingly into your eyes and you feel yourself sink under his gaze. It's just so intense, his pretty hazel eyes just make you swoon.

"You know, I would not have been upset if we kissed, for the integrity of the story." He whispers, his hand coming to cup your chin.

"Yeah?" You ask breathlessly as the space between the two of you becomes smaller and smaller.

Could this really be happening? Oh god you hope it was. Your eyes flutter closed as he kisses you. His hand is gentle as his kiss deepens. His lips are soft and he tastes like, like everything fucking perfect.

"I've been trying to court you for some time my love." Leopold confesses as you pull apart.

"Normally I would have given you a letter but, Charlie had told me the sentiment was outdated." You giggle at the thought of a handwritten letter from him declaring his love for you, a very romantic idea you must admit.

"I'm sorry I didn't notice. If I had known, we could have done this a lot sooner."

"That's alright darling, because now we have all the time in the world." Well all the time until 12:30 when the bell rang. For now though, you had him all to yourself.

[wuahae]

hiii hehe :3 first off i'm SOO sorry it took me this long to get around to it omg i really wanted to go into this with a #Fresh mindset and also school Just started and already is pummeling me into the ground but . it's saturday Monday. and i am Here now and i just cracked open a cold one (ginger ale) and i am Ready to get into it!!!!

Here, in the dark, there is just you. 

banger first line btw its so telling... also i remember workshopping this first scene with you and i'm so glad this is what you decided on! it sets the mood perfectlyyyy it fits the perfect amount of humor (SHAKIRA WAITS FOR NO ONE!!!) and ambiance and the ENERGYYY of it is so good like Yeah this is an opening scene of a 2010s romcom! its likeee yeah even though you're in this club at fuckass o'clock the ghost of your mother and all your expectations still digs into you... you can never run away you can only face the things you must!!!! also another thing i wanna say is that its kinda crazy how short this scene is but there's so many things that it establishes like Man... That's good writing... yn who is forced to be everything she isn't and as a result she cannonballs herself into everything she Shouldn't be... just so she can have the feeling of being nothing at all.... yeah!!! oh to be young and wild and free . But what does it all mean for the future...

They stand tall in their planters, majestic and hairy with French lavender. Today you notice that the rightmost one's nose has been pruned off by accident, and he stands, snoutless, staring at his green brothers and sisters. 

picture perfect palace hosting a picture perfect family but if you look close enough you see signs of the suffocation.. the overbearing preening.... WHAT DOES IT ALL MEAN!! also the part about y/n noticing the little details about the number of terracotta stones... its like Yeah it's probably bc she's been in this palace all her life but also its like. no one would pay attention to those things if some ounce of her didn't care. used to. etc.

Your father paces near the window, either wondering why you can't be softer, more pliable, like your older brother Jeonghan, or, alternatively, why one of the lions is missing a nose.

only the real ones know who jeonghan used to be... YOU WILL BE MISSED 😭😭😭😭😭

"We have arranged for you to marry someone."  And all at once, it seems as though all the air has been sucked out of the room. There's a sharp pain lodged somewhere between your chest, your stomach, and your unhappy liver. The larks sing emptily in the garden. 

the pacing is sooo good here like yeah... top 10 announcements you won't believe! also the detail of the larks is so good it places you back into the palace setting and also it makes the palace seem so like. big. empty. just a bunch of air and space.

"Why?" you ask. Your voice wobbles, treading over that childlike waver you never learned to control. "Is this to punish me?"  / She's right. She's always been right. Maybe not about the swimsuit, but you haven’t exactly been the PR princess your family needed you to be. If anything, you would think it made Jeonghan look better by comparison, but you know that your parents would prefer you to make appearances in something other than Deuxmoi’s Sunday Spotted. But the royal charade never fit you well either; it clings and sticks and bunches up at the seams like a cheap Halloween costume. 

this makes me sooo like. MY BABYYYYY.... the emphasis on like. you might be an adult but whenever you're dealing with your parents or anything royal it just feels like you're a Child all over again (childlike waver / cheap halloween costume)... i have nothing else to say that doesn't involve my own convoluted parental trauma but just know i #GetHer

You were so sore the next day, you were bed-bound–truly a punishment worse than death, if not for another reminder that everything you do ends up hurting you a little. 

OWIE.....

Past August, you don't think you ever got your brother back.

i loooove this relationship with jeonghan btw idk if i ever said this to you but its like. vulnerabilities in yn that show she isn't just being disobedient to Be disobedient and like. she cares!!!! she just copes bad and has no one around to help her... not anymore :( also this scene in general is just really good backstory without being too monologue-y which is something i am Always impressed by... Good worldbuilding. good dynamic.

Without thinking, you quickly push out the first excuse you have. "I apologize, I was—" 

also i think its so interesting how like. before you know it's jihoon at the door you default to your more proper princess "I apologize" smth that like. Fits your position more even though on the surface level you've long given up on being proper or whatever impossible thing your mother expects you to be.... yeah. Trying is still somehow ingrained in your being

"You forgot your jacket," Jihoon replies. 

unfortunately for both of us i endlessly need him. also reliable best friend jihoon meeowwww I NEEED YOOUUUUU. also yn's imposter syndrome and guilt complex is making me soooo sad....

You wish she was human for a moment so you could show her the crater-sized hole that "prince joshua google images" left in your browser history. 

THIS IS SOOOFDMLDFK me searching up Joshua Hong boyfriend on pinterest to the same effect

The mental image of Joshua Hong being struck down by the first ten seconds of Throat Goat makes you laugh, but you still don't feel far away enough from the truth.

#foreshadowing

You knew you should have done better for your brother, but he didn’t even feel like your brother anymore. 

nooo..... fuck. also me reading this knowing full well What happened that day.... rocking back and forth chanting My Shaylaa....

So you press your heart to Astrid's mane, the pale moon high over the both of you, and you ride. 

astrid who represents the last bit of your childhood and yourself and your Brother, all of which you wonder if you can even bring with you to acros, pressing your heart to her and all that she encompasses... Yeah

You choose to let it slide—you have no choice, really. At least you have an ass. 

#smallblessings

"Didn't know you had a choice."

ooohhhh he's soo.... ITS SO ARC WORDS!!! of course he would say that....

"I mean, I read an insane amount of Dan Brown," you reply. "Not many of us can say we've solved the Davinci code, you know." 

this is actually the worst im clawing at my neck rn MDSFJSDFML is there any greater humiliation than someone not laughing at your jokes...... LAUGH WITH MEEEEE oh my god.... josh being hot and boring. the 10th circle of hell.

You glance to your right to catch a glimpse of Joshua. He smiles, a dutiful press of the lips, and you watch it ripple.

heol........... the first crack in his mask. hah... tfw you're so annoying u make resident stick-in-ass regret his princely duties

He's out of words, so he bends down to awkwardly pat you on the head, which, in all your years of knowing him, is the most affection he can muster. This is why you prefer horses to Jihoon for therapy, although you appreciate the effort. 

he is SOOOOO..... I NEED HIM 😭😭😭😭😭

You still keep your pillow pet on your bed (a horse named Robert).

i tried thinking of a horse pun with robert pattinson for a joke and the best i could come up with was cobert pattinson... robert trottinson... me when rob is destined to have bat puns no matter what . but anyway i love that yn is consistently a horse girl its so cute HSDFJLSFDKM

He's got a copy of Anna Karenina under his arm, probably to weigh the pros and cons of cheating on you. You don't blame him—in fact, maybe it would make your doomed marriage exciting enough to be tolerable. 

THIS IS SOOOODSFMSDFLKJ aaron taylor johnson Where are you!!!

"Oh right, because this is where happiness goes to die, huh?" You snatch it back from him, feeling the knot of anger in your gut flare. 

Oh that's not...... 😬 well Yes actually!

You sink into your side of the bed, a damask-woven vat of quicksand, and watch the spears of light dance on the ceiling.

imagery that fucks immensely..

The prince of Acros owning a book with the words "juicy", "mewling", and "best friend's brother" in the first fifty pages are enough to tide you over for the night. Probably the next week, to be honest.

prince joshua hong caught reading ICEBREAKER?!

"Is it too bright for you?" Joshua's voice, now tempered by the stillness of the evening, pulls you out of your thoughts. "I can turn the lamp off."  / Joshua smiles, and this time, you think it's a real one. 

also one thing to mention is that i love how after the truce is settled they're quick to act like. civilly/almost kind to each other like. they're both not Bad or intentionally hard-to-stand people it's just they're both put in impossible situations . a thin line between hate and kinship and love... etc etc etc. speaking of hate u are an expert at writing e2l banter the tension is palpable

"Any minute now," bitches Jihoon from the other side of the door. 

HE IS SOOOSDFMDSFLK my favorite animal is jihoon being forced to do anything for the royal family. also you calling yourself a HARLOT is so funny. next up the list is calling yourself a reddit-approved hussy

Outside, there is a lone photographer. The sun, morning-ripe, reflects off his camera lens like a third eye. The lawn, freakishly green, sprawls out around you, and the blue spruce frames the scene, perfect by design. 

your descriptions are SOOOO good like theyre so Telling without being too wordy or needlessly purple-y like just a few sentences from you and i am #In it

You can see why people dote on him so much—his cheeks get round, and his eyes magically gain the sparkles that people pay for on Facetune. God really seems to have wasted a perfect face on him.

the thought of being fake-married to him is making me rock back and forth like actually Oh my god.... i unhinge my jaw and swallow him whole with my 8 rows of teeth.

He's just like anyone else, you tell yourself. You're at the club. They're playing Everytime We Touch by Cascada. 

CASCADA MENTION HELL YEAHHHH 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

“Shut the fuck up. Wait, is he actually coming?”  ”Dunno. Wouldn’t be very Mr. Worldwide of him to flake, though.” 

u are actually the funniest person alive. also i think its soooo like. even though you came back home to have semblance of your Old life back your thoughts inevitably drift to joshua again... trying to fit him into the familiar memory of your old life even though you know it's a little funny to imagine him with anything less than 100 year old wine in his hand... and when somi asks if she should invite him you say No even though you were clearly thinking about it . What does it all mean. the dichotomy of having a hot boring HOT fake husband... oh the terrors....

but you couldn’t let him walk away from that conversation thinking wet dirt was a normal, socially acceptable, scent for a bedroom. (—It said moss on the label! —So, dirt. —Moss is not dirt. Maybe you need to go back to school.) 

GWHMASFDLFSDK the parentheses format is so funny i'm stealing that /hj. also im soooo glad you added in this scene about seeing him half naked its so romcom-y... so shenanigans-filled.... pornhub title: HOT PRINCE WITH HUGE TITS CAUGHT NAKED!

Later, on the walk to the library, you reach for your lip gloss. Instead, you pull out q-tip number five and get mad all over again. 

like she's so funnyydfmdflk she's sooo me.

"I just have to know—how did you guys meet?" 

this entire exchange is so funny JSDFMLASDFK like i love when they're bickering and being annoying to each other i feel like they match each other so well also the little digs to each other to ruin each other's reputation... yn raccoon era. joshua stalker era.

Joshua doesn’t reply. Out of the corner of your eye, you see his gaze has shifted. You feel it land somewhere near you, but you’re too engrossed in the race to investigate further. Perhaps he’s admitted defeat preemptively, wisely so.  “You know your stuff,” he murmurs, the clamor of the audience almost burying him. 

oh man...... an ounce of sincerity is all it takes.... me when josh sees the girl underneath the Act.... starts howling.

You turn to Joshua and clasp his hands between yours, somehow less wooden now, and so, so human. The crowd cheers; they come alive. 

OOOUUUUUUUUUGGGHHHH WOLF TEARING OFF HIS SHIRT JPEG.

also next scene with josh and his damn HORSE PUNS HES SOOOO ANNOYINGJFDMLDF but also this is the first time we're really seeing him not be prickly and testy and being Lame so its like. you show me your cards ill show you mine... etc. he's just trying to make you comfortable cause you really are a Team rn... oh man. OH MAN.

You’re not asking for love—just a little bit of like. and, right now, you think you like Joshua Hong. 

rubs hands together like a little fly... all according to plan. also theyre just soooo cute oh my god...

“Do you want to keep this?” Jihoon holds up a choker that resembles a jock strap. “When did you even wear this? It looks like a cat toy.” 

NOOOOOOO

“Right,” says Joshua, and when he gets up from the bench, he doesn’t look back. 

i have a lot of things to say about this scene and All of them are good... i remember the first time you brought up Piano as a scene and i was like. Wrinkles nose. at it because of my own personal experiences with piano being used as a cheesy plot device But i told you this then and im telling you this again Now i think its so well done... the dynamic between josh and yn is so well done like. they're just starting to blindly feel around how to interact with one another now that they're not Enemies but theyre still forced-to-marry but also like. they're also starting to be friends, even if josh was being a tad insufferable After the derby. like i love that they're both fumbling around at the piano and for Once in this palace yn is leading josh on how to do something right... yn teasing him all in good nature ("buddy, left hand goes here.") and josh giving himself the leniency to be a bit of casual when no one is watching ("aw, what?" he whines. "see, i told you i was no good. give me a second.") like its all just so cute. like watching two puzzle pieces spin themselves around trying to click. Pajama joshua is better than prince joshua... but even pajama joshua is thinking of duty... duty the knife and the wound... and Of Course josh brings it up when they're having a cute moment like OF COURSE!!! rubs my temples. yn trying to change the topic again. josh opening up again about wanting to play guitar because this is Pajama Joshua who doesn't know how to read the ledger lines and makes silly puns and not Prince Joshua who looks at you with a firm press in his brow... like everyone else with a crown... Man.

“That's not really fair.” You absentmindedly play a few keys, all disjointed. “Taking guitar lessons doesn’t make you a problem child.”  “It's not about that, though,” Joshua says. He's avoiding your eyes. “It's everything, together. I couldn't just pick up a guitar and be someone else.”  [...] “Yeah, and you think I don’t think about that every day? How, maybe, if I had done something different, then we wouldn’t be here?”  You feel stung. You don’t know how to tell him that you’ve been trying to figure out the same thing your whole life. If you were a better daughter, you’d have spared everyone the trouble. Unfortunately, you’d gotten it wrong so many times, you stopped trying.

FUCK!!! like this whole exchange is such masterful character building . joshua who doesn't know How to give himself leeway and does whatever mommy and daddy tell him because if he disobeys one thing then its like a slippery slope and all of a sudden he'll let himself think he can be someone other than a prince. vs yn who doesn't see the big deal because what's one misstep when her entire life is just one purposeful fuck-up.... but it doesn't even matter!! because even if josh was rebellious and learned how to play guitar and not piano and if yn was the good little princess her parents wanted her to be they would still be here!!! both at opposite ends of the spectrum. DUTY THE KNIFE AND THE WOUND!

like the whole scene is just so push-pull... conflicting coping mechanisms... they see each other but do they really. they see but do they understand... things to consider....... anyway this is my favorite scene. i love character building.

“You ready to get stuffed?” 

GHWMAFSMLSDKVSLDFKSDVMLSDFK

“Yeah, although on second thought, maybe it’s a bad idea to bring the girl who’s gonna puke everything up anyway.” 

Just like me...

“Nope.” You pop open your compact. “I have to change, and I desperately need to locate a coffee. I will suck a fucking bean off if i need to.”  “I'm hanging up on you,” Somi whines. “It's too early for you to be gross and late.”   “As if you weren’t talking about getting stuffed.” 

THEY ARE SOOO FUNNY like somi really is the star of the show... if this was in the 2000s she'd be played by judy greer

“Don’t give me any ideas,” he replies. Under the bluebird sky of late morning, lips upturned and eyes bright, Joshua may be a sight you could get used to. Someday. “Brought you a coffee. I can’t have you sucking off a bean—the reporters would go crazy.” 

i love how his humor slowly gets more crude as the fic goes on HSDFJLSDFK like him laughing at you being the #top in the piano scene... JOSHUA HONG I KNWO WHAT YOU ARE. I KNOW THE PERSONALITY YOU'RE HIDING. also it's actually a skill to casually describe joshua in a way that is injected with so much Need but what else would i expect from husbandjoshi...

Instead, you circle each other in an unsure, clumsy dance. You can’t quite get it right. It's all the same now. The bite of a horse saddle not made for your body, the glow of your heirloom ring, now cheapened by your graceless hand, Joshua’s lonely, reaching palm as he disappears in the rearview mirror. 

aw man... i always feel so bad for her like she's always trying... all she does is try 😭😭😭 like that thing about the jeonghan play too... she tries and its not good enough and so it gets discarded anyway because what good is trying when its not good enough... better to pretend to be perfect than to try and be yourself. and whatnot. my shayla........ what a sad notion... to be perfect and lonely...

You also learn that you, paradoxically, might not know how to love Joshua Hong, but you sure do know how to kiss him. 

oh meow.............. MEEEEOWWWWWWWWWWWWWW.............. you don't need me to tell you how good you are at writing intimate scenes you already know.... i also don't have much to say btw you look in my brain and its like tv static and the rainbow bars bzzzzzt bzzzztttt bzzzzzzzzzt

ok. obviously i have more to say. I will see you on the next part.

title: royally screwed [m]

pairing: joshua x f!reader

wc: 30.8k in total; part 1: 15.4k, part 2: 15.4k summary: between remembering last night’s party and pleasing your unrelenting family, you think being a princess is hard enough. then you’re thrust into an arranged marriage to royal darling joshua hong—straight-laced, infuriatingly obedient, and everything you’re not. pretending to be the perfect couple? impossible.   notes: romcom + smut (part 2), modern royalty!au in which yn is the princess of cotria/joshua the prince of acros (both fictional), enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, quarterlife crisis/coming of age, very very slow burn. lots of swearing, lots of alcohol, lots of feelings. very special thanks to @meiozis for all their help with worldbuilding and @wuahae for bearing with me through the endless drafts, scene changes, second guessing, horrible word choices, etc. you are the only reason this got done, and i love you to the moon and back <3 [read part 2 here!]

Here, in the dark, there is just you. 

The strobe lights press into your skin with all the brilliance of the sun, there's half a Modelo running down your leg, and you think you kissed the stranger behind you last week, but if you close your eyes, it's just you. No rules, no five second curtseys, no talk about the throne or whoever's ass happens to be keeping it warm at the moment. 

Here, you're nobody, and it's perfect. 

"I'm getting more champagne," Somi says, her voice careening over the music. "You sure Jihoon doesn't want any?" 

You glance back at him. He's flattened up against the back wall, holding your purse, like a raccoon caught going through the trash. This is one of the many trials he's forced to endure for your entertainment, but it's his job–not as your closest friend, but as your legally employed bodyguard. 

"No, he's on duty." 

"Right," she slurs. "Sometimes I forget you're a literal princess." 

If only it were that easy. Five drinks in and you think you can still feel your mother's vice grip on your arm and all the little white crescents of her french manicure. 

You love this song–at least, you think you do. You're too drunk to tell, but it doesn't matter. The dance floor is muggy, sardine-packed with one warm body after another, and it's heaven. The crowd moves, and you move with them. Shakira waits for no one. 

Somi must have secured another bottle of Cristal already. Soonyoung, your other partner-in-crime, hands you a flute and you take it, the glittery foam already bubbling over the lip. 

"Cheers." Out of his too-drunk mouth, it sounds like a new word altogether, but you bring your glass to his anyway. 

Tomorrow, you have a meeting with your parents. This, unlike all of your other involvements, is actually important, they said, and their voices had wound around you like a snare. 

When it gets late, Jihoon will sling your arm over his shoulders and haul you back to the palace, still tipsy and holding your stilettos to your chest like a shield. Tomorrow will come, and it's then when you'll have to try to be good. It's a useless, stupid affair, but you'll go through the motions anyway. 

But tonight, there is you and the music and the wonderful laughter of your friends, and you don't have to be anything at all. 

"Cheers," you tell Soonyoung, and you drink. 

--

There are four large topiaries in the palace garden: all lions. They stand tall in their planters, majestic and hairy with French lavender. Today you notice that the rightmost one's nose has been pruned off by accident, and he stands, snoutless, staring at his green brothers and sisters. 

You know this because this is the view from the study, and it has never changed. There is only one study in the east wing, and it is small and useless and the perfect room for your parents to sit you down and remind you that you do not, in fact, own a single thing about your own life. 

There is nothing new about this ritual. Even as a child, when you were more desperate to please, you could never be the right kind of daughter to your parents or princess to your country. Again and again, you landed yourself here, in trouble once more. 

So you stopped trying–you would find these four walls anyway, no matter what you did. Why not enjoy your Fridays instead?

By now, you’ve memorized the carvings on the armrest of the chair you’re in (a knobby column, then underneath, the whorl of a seashell). There are thirty-four terracotta stones on the way to the fountain, all spaced perfectly apart, sanded down to the millimeter. 

The scene remains unchanged. Your mother now stares down at you over the bridge of her nose, with that tight-lipped frown you've gotten so used to. Your father paces near the window, either wondering why you can't be softer, more pliable, like your older brother Jeonghan, or, alternatively, why one of the lions is missing a nose. Maybe both.

"Enjoy yourself yesterday?" your mother asks. 

"Yes," you reply, out of other answers.

"Wonderful. Then our early morning briefing with PR was good for something. You should be grateful last night's pictures won't make it out of the darkroom." 

Her voice, bitter and incisive, makes the hangover bubble up in your stomach. You and the tabloids weren't exactly on good terms, but it wasn't your fault so many people seemed to care about what you were wearing or who you were out with. 

"What did you want to meet about?" you ask, hoping to change the subject. 

You can't put your finger on it, but there's a cloying, heavy energy hanging on you. You feel as though you're on the precipice of something, although that could just be the consequences of all that Cristal ready to reintroduce themselves to your digestive system. 

Your mother clears her throat. 

"We have arranged for you to marry someone." 

And all at once, it seems as though all the air has been sucked out of the room. There's a sharp pain lodged somewhere between your chest, your stomach, and your unhappy liver. The larks sing emptily in the garden. 

"What?" Your voice sounds like it's unraveling somewhere in your throat. Quickly, frantically, you grasp at the faraway possibility that it can't possibly mean what you think it does. Marry? You can’t even remember the last time you thought of going on a second date with someone. Now you might actually throw up. 

"Prince Joshua, of the Hong family. The crown prince of–" 

"Acros. I know," you interrupt, the words jumping out of you in shock and anger. 

Of course you know who Joshua Hong is–Acros is a tiny, unremarkable country nestled into the border of your much bigger one, and Joshua their crown jewel. If you were the nation's problem, he was their darling. A bland thing to coo at when life got boring, the walking embodiment of a media training session. Smile and nod, smile and nod. He might as well be AI generated.

You wouldn't last a day with him. Not with your impatience, your opinions, or that loud mouth your parents always scold you for. Your mind swims with the mental image of the two of you on a gaudy parade float, doing that stupidly slow wave everyone seemed to insist on.

"Wonderful. So you'll pack a bag? The Hong family will be thrilled to meet you tomorrow," says your father.

"Why?" you ask. Your voice wobbles, treading over that childlike waver you never learned to control. "Is this to punish me?" 

"My dear, your brother will be ascending to the throne soon," your mother answers, looking you dead in the eyes. "It’s his face that needs to be on the front page, not you in another abomination of a swimsuit. The Hongs will keep enough of an eye on you.” 

She's right. She's always been right. Maybe not about the swimsuit, but you haven’t exactly been the PR princess your family needed you to be. If anything, you would think it made Jeonghan look better by comparison, but you know that your parents would prefer you to make appearances in something other than Deuxmoi’s Sunday Spotted. But the royal charade never fit you well either; it clings and sticks and bunches up at the seams like a cheap Halloween costume. 

"The Hongs thought their country would benefit from our money. It was an easy decision, really," your mother finishes, as if that makes you feel any less like a silly, bikini-clad pawn in a game of chess you never asked to play. 

"Does Jeonghan know?" 

"He sees its purpose,” your father says simply, like that was all that mattered. “You will too, in due time.”

He nods solemnly, which is how he closes every conversation–just another turn of the silent knife. As your parents turn to leave, their silken garbs trail behind them like ink in still water. Business as always, especially with you. 

"Your brother will be coming home from his press tour this week," your mother says on her way out. "You mustn't ruin this for him. The car leaves for Acros in the morning." 

There's a mean, barbed feeling in your heart. You don't know whether to scream or to cry, so you do what your mother taught you to do. You sit, stilled by a feeling of hopelessness, and let yourself be emptied. 

--

When you were thirteen, you learned how to ride a horse. 

Not the impractical, side-saddle way drilled into you when you were a little girl, with your skirt billowing over the fender and catching in the stirrups, but how to really ride a horse. 

It was on a night much like tonight–indigo and starless. Your brother had climbed up the marble trellis, his teenage, noodle body a perfect fit for scaling the lattice, and threw a stone at your window, just like you had seen in the movies. Jeonghan was still young, then, rebellious and unchanged by the throne. 

It was him who laced up your riding boots, hoisted you on your first horse, and pressed the reins into your palms. You remember the unforgiving hold of the leather saddle, not yet broken in. You were so sore the next day, you were bed-bound–truly a punishment worse than death, if not for another reminder that everything you do ends up hurting you a little. 

"It's great," Jeonghan had told you, breathless and haloed by the moonlight. "You can just ride. nowhere to go and no one to answer to." 

You had spent the summer this way. Every night, you learned the sound of the forest at twilight, chasing Jeonghan's mud-splattered palomino. In the mornings, breakfast consisted of rubbing the sleep out of your eyes and whispering about whatever misadventure you had found yourselves tangled in the night before. 

That was before he had come of age. Before your father gave him the Throne Talk, and before he was whisked away into endless meetings and etiquette lessons and parliaments. Your inside jokes became foul, overripe in his newly coached mouth. He even learned to play golf, and he hated golf. 

Past August, you don't think you ever got your brother back.

You slide the oaken doors of the stables open, feeling your arms squeeze underneath your riding shirt. Here, it’s always quiet after sundown.

It hasn't changed since the day you first snuck in with Jeonghan. You let the green scent of the hay fill your lungs, the sleep-stir of the horses like music to your ears. Dokyeom has left the tack room open by "accident" once more, likely to avoid catching you picking the lock with a bobby pin like he had a few months ago. 

"Hey, you," you whisper, coming to the stall of your own horse. Astrid, a bay thoroughbred, was Jeonghan's gift to you on your 18th birthday, a wistful reminder of a summer now past its prime. "No surprise here, but I had a really, really bad day." 

Astrid, oblivious, noses at your palm in search of a nonexistent sugar cube. Somehow, this brings the anxious chatter of your mind to a crescendo—would Astrid come with you to Acros? When would that happen? More importantly, when were you moving? You think of a too-warm summer morning, the ridiculous, oversized brim of one of your mother's sunhats, and a moving truck. That, and a country ready to delete you from its ranks. 

It's now, with the bridle in your fists, that you hear the wheedling groan of the stable door as it slides open. Without thinking, you quickly push out the first excuse you have. "I apologize, I was—" 

"It's me." 

Jihoon. 

You would tease him about his fear of ponies—perhaps it's because he is quite literally the same size as them—but you think hearing another person tell you off would officially push you over the edge. You don't want to be dramatic, but you don't even know if Acros even had horses. 

That, and somehow he's both the first and the last person you want to see. The guilt feels a bit heavier when you know his life is about to change too, in no small part due to your own failings.

"Jihoon, I…" you start. There’s an apology that’s been sitting on your tongue, one you haven’t quite learned to spit up yet. You don’t know who it’s for—yourself, or everyone else—but Jihoon interrupts you before you can finish your thought. 

"You forgot your jacket," Jihoon replies. 

For once, you can't read him. You wonder if he's thinking about if he'd get along with the other bodyguards, but, more likely, he's probably pitying you. You're the last person in the world that should be in an arranged marriage, and even someone who kills people for a living could tell. 

"I'll be in the foyer." 

You don't exchange any more words. Jihoon knows that there is nothing he can say that will erase what's about to happen, and like always, he is right.

After you saddle up, Astrid takes you to the forest like usual. Honestly, you've lost count of the times you've come out here to cry, usually about a boy you don’t even like, or, worse, Jeonghan declining your weekly Facetime session again. But now, you think you both know this time is very different. 

"Astrid," you groan. "Joshua looks like a Ken doll from hell. He probably pronounces tomato like tomahto and has a closet dedicated to his tweed collection. I can't marry him." 

Astrid is none the wiser. You wish she was human for a moment so you could show her the crater-sized hole that "prince joshua google images" left in your browser history. 

"Do you think he only listens to classical music? I think a Kim Petras song would kill him instantaneously." 

The mental image of Joshua Hong being struck down by the first ten seconds of Throat Goat makes you laugh, but you still don't feel far away enough from the truth.

You remember your 21st birthday, a balmy spring Friday. Jeonghan had been helping out at the local youth theater, and the opening night of their production was coincidentally the same day. Jeonghan had never been one for theater (last time, he had fallen asleep during Mamma Mia, of all musicals). You knew the press turnout was expected to be huge, but the whole thing felt like one big charade to you. 

So you had planned your big birthday bash—you only get one 21st, after all—that day. The paparazzi fell for it, hook, line, and sinker. Unsurprisingly, drunk, hot girls made for a better story than Greek theater. 

You remember the raw, stinging look Jeonghan had in his eyes the next morning. He didn't even have to say anything, but you knew. The memory carves out an abyss in your chest. You knew you should have done better for your brother, but he didn’t even feel like your brother anymore. 

Still, actions have consequences, and this was a hell of a consequence. Even out here, the inconvenient reality of it seems closer than ever. but you're out of time. The night fades fast, especially ones like these. 

So you press your heart to Astrid's mane, the pale moon high over the both of you, and you ride. 

--

Late spring is kind to Acros. 

The tulips push their bright heads out of the dirt, winking and blazing in the daylight, and the green fields stretch so far they look like water. 

You had spent the car ride with your nose pressed to the window, watching all the sun-bleached buildings zip by. You mustn't ruin this for Jeonghan. It spins around in your head like an old pair of shoes in a washing machine. 

Now you stand in the grand foyer, your parents on either side of you. Jihoon hovers behind, holding the overstuffed duffel bag you had rushed to pack this morning. 

A hushed arrival such as this was unbecoming of your family, but it was necessary. your parents had stressed that the arranged part of the deal was not meant to be public knowledge because it was bad for optics. To you, the arrangement was actually the entire deal. That, and you and optics never exactly got along. 

Waiting for Joshua and his parents gives you a moment to observe what could be your new home, although you’re still waiting for the miraculous plot twist that will save you from your fate. 

That being said: you’ve set foot in plenty of nice places, but if HGTV ran segments for castles, this would certainly be the blueprint. It’s smaller than the palace in Cotria, but you like that—it’s cozier, less cold-seeming. 

The filigreed ceilings vault dizzyingly high, and the chandelier above the muraled walls is set afire with the noontime sun. the blushing azaleas cascade from their pots, and they line the hallways with joyous pops of white and pink. breaking the spell is the distant staccato of several sets of footsteps on marble, and you straighten your back, as if by divine command. 

Three figures approach you: Joshua and his parents. Even from a distance, you can see the trained walk of royalty, their shoulders straight enough to hold water. You’ll give credit where credit is due—they look even less thrilled to meet you than you are to meet them.

Unfortunately, up close, Joshua is more handsome than the cameras would betray. He's taller than you had imagined, too. without trying, it looks like he jumped out of a shitty Disney movie, one where the prince says two words and still gets the girl. More than that, you notice how his face is like glass—unwavering, cruelly still. One wrong move, and you'd break him. 

"Your highnesses," you say, lowering your head in a pronounced curtesy. 

Joshua bows in response, like clockwork. He reaches for your hand, then brings it to his lips to kiss the back of it. 

At once, you feel your hackles jump up, even though many a man has done far nastier to you. You can’t tell what pisses you off more: a, the fact that he smells like a hotel lobby, or b, that he managed to get his mouth on you in less than five seconds. 

"I'm elated we have the privilege of welcoming your daughter into our home," Joshua's mother says. Like him, she is staggeringly elegant and even harder to read. "She's beautiful." 

Fortunately, she has picked the one compliment that your parents can agree on without lying through their teeth. You watch them laugh and titter amongst themselves, and it's now that you notice Joshua has been looking at you this whole time.

You think look is too kind of a word, though. It's something colder than that, more clinical, and you really don't like it. Your stylist had spent upwards of two hours today in front of your vanity this morning, mostly in a losing battle with a pair of fake lashes, and you wonder if one of them is crooked. That, or Joshua is similarly wondering just how he will endure a life wedded to you. 

"Joshua, please," his mother chides, and you watch him almost immediately pivot towards her, like he’s on wheels. "Where are your manners? You should show the princess around. Get to know each other a bit before press tomorrow." 

Press. Of course. Your least favorite word. You vaguely remember your parents mentioning it in the car this morning, but it must have gotten lost among all the other terrible things they'd told you. 

Your head starts to hurt. Joshua keeps smiling at you, empty, doll-like.

"Yes, I'd love that," you say, feeling like a deflating balloon. You were hoping his company will be better than watching four grown adults fall all over each other, but you're starting to doubt that. 

Joshua offers you his arm, and you take it anyway. 

"We'll be off then," he chirps before bowing once more. His freakishly shiny shoe nudges yours to remind you to do the same. Begrudgingly, you listen, watching your shellacked, angry expression in the patina of his loafers. 

Not a good start, but what did you expect?

You tamp down your irritation and let him lead you into the Great Hall. It's a shiny, golden tunnel, studded with glossy oil paintings of his parents, his grandparents, then the next set of old people before them. Their eyes stare at you, pools of hazy paint in their moon faces. You briefly imagine your painting up there, with Joshua's hand hovering meekly over your waist, unused to being more than two feet away from a woman his age.

"It's nice to finally meet you," Joshua says. "I think I've only seen you in pictures." 

He's referencing the one of many “encounters” you've had with the paparazzi, a la yesterday night. They take trashy photos, overexposed and grainy from the camera flash, with your ass most likely in the frame. 

You choose to let it slide—you have no choice, really. At least you have an ass. 

"The pleasure is mine," you reply. "I believe you were at the cricket championships a few months ago, right?" 

"Correct. Do you watch? I don't believe I saw you." 

"No, but my brother was there." Your footsteps echo against the marbled walls. "Just trying to think of your last public appearance," you offer unhelpfully, since you and he both know those are few and far between. 

"That's right. He mentioned you were busy," Joshua replies. "Glastonbury was that weekend, was it not?" 

He's right. It was, but you don't like the insinuation he's making. You weren't at Glastonbury anyway—your parents wouldn't let you attend, and Jihoon was unwilling to come up with a cover story for you. Because you would rather watch paint dry than attend another cricket game, you instead spent it with takeout and reruns of Rupaul's Drag Race. 

"Can't recall," you answer. "Doesn't matter. I'm not one for cricket, anyway."

"Didn't know you had a choice."

You watch Joshua halfheartedly gesture to the Great Hall. The seemingly mile-long dinner table is empty now, save for a gratuitously piled fruit bowl. 

Your country frequently hosts guests, but the Hongs are notoriously insular. You imagine the four of you, crammed together at one end of the table, making horrendous small talk every morning over wilted danishes and raspberry preserves. Somehow, your mood worsens even more than you thought possible.

"Can I see the library?" you ask in an attempt to pivot. 

"Of course. Do you enjoy reading?" 

"A normal amount." You pass by another set of windows and take note of the rose garden outside, verdant with the May sunshine. Astrid has a bit of a penchant for eating roses, which would definitely complicate your plan to smuggle her in. No matter—you’ve done worse. "I studied political science at university, so I got a healthy dose of it." 

"Didn't we all?" Joshua chuckles.

He pushes the door open to the library, which is just as lavish as the rest of the palace. You wonder how well-worn it is, how many spines have creases in them, how many dedications were speckled with a funny annotation or two. But judging by first impressions, you wouldn't be surprised if all the books still had their dust jacket on. 

"I mean, I read an insane amount of Dan Brown," you reply. "Not many of us can say we've solved the Davinci code, you know." 

You hoped this would crack a laugh out of him, but his grin is thinner than an eyebrow from the 2000s. Truthfully, you would compare this conversation to a death by a thousand papercuts, but somehow that feels preferable to the guillotine of discussing the terms and conditions of your rapidly impending marriage. You feel as though that would be violating some rule you aren't yet aware of, and you're unwilling to endure the patent leather consequences of another faux pas. 

"I've heard of it," says Joshua after much thought. "My parents were shuttling me between meetings and private lessons, so, unlike some, I was quite busy during university." 

You're not about to explain that you were equally as busy as him. Something tells you that he'd be too prideful to believe you anyway. 

"How difficult. Surely you were able to have some fun," you say, your voice betraying your distaste. "Or were you too good for that?" 

Too far. 

"I did what my position allowed," is Joshua's terse reply, and you know you've crossed a line. Still, it dazes you that the man standing next to you may have never done anything for himself in his life. Even Jeonghan did, before your parents really tightened the reins. 

The air buzzes with a silence sharp enough to make you bleed. You wish literally anyone else was standing next to you, but you realize there are no more horses or emergency cabs or Jihoons to rescue you from this one. 

"How about I take you to our room? I hope you'll find it comfortable." 

You glance to your right to catch a glimpse of Joshua. He smiles, a dutiful press of the lips, and you watch it ripple.

--

"Jihoon, it is so much worse than I thought." 

You sit on the plush carpeting of your bedroom floor, amongst your small disaster of things. Jihoon examines you, one eyebrow raised, as he leans against the bedroom door. 

"He's not around, right?" 

Jihoon shakes his head.

"I don't get it," you sigh. "I go out. I get drunk. I have a little fun on the weekends. I don't see how any of this makes me a bad person." 

"You know how traditional your families are." Jihoon bends down to pick up a hair bow that jumped ship from the vanity. "It's just how it is." 

"He treats me like some high school delinquent. I tried, but he has no sense of humor. No joi de vivre. I think he would actually explode if he knew I went out two days ago." 

"Give it time," Jihoon supplies unhelpfully. "I don't know French, but he can't be that bad. You just met him." 

“Yeah. Usually that’s a good thing. I’ve fucked people i know less about.” 

Jihoon shakes his head and laughs, one of those little cackly ones he reserves for your company. 

"Well, you have been with worse," he tuts. "Definitely worse." 

"Jihoon, be serious. This is the rest of my life we're talking about." 

“I know." He draws his lips into a line, likely searching for the right thing to say. "This sucks. I wouldn't be good at this either." 

"You're talking to me. I don't think there's a single royal thing I can do right."

He's out of words, so he bends down to awkwardly pat you on the head, which, in all your years of knowing him, is the most affection he can muster. This is why you prefer horses to Jihoon for therapy, although you appreciate the effort. 

"I'd stay, but they want me to go to some meeting," he says, jerking his thumb towards the door. "I'll see you tomorrow." 

So he leaves you, desolate and linen-covered. Back to square one. 

The room seems to echo with how empty it feels. The bare walls are painted champagne, a rich, indifferent color. They soar to an arched ceiling lined with baroque crown moulding. There's a large window facing the garden, framed by deep green velvet. Atop the vanity cradled to the wall, the ivy of the wrought mirror curls at the edges, as if escaping. The chandelier hangs low, fat and pear-shaped, and its crystals douse the room in gauzy lamplight.

At least the canopy bed looks comfortable. It's the one thing keeping you from calling this place a veritable jail cell, which still seems like an understatement. For once, you miss your own bedroom. Granted, it didn’t look much different on the surface. but despite all the paneling and the heavy velvet, you still like to think it had some personality. You still keep your pillow pet on your bed (a horse named Robert). The back wall is chipped from a Gossip Girl poster your mom made you take down.  

Before you’re able to get too sentimental, the unwelcome sight of your future husband steals you from your thoughts. 

"Evening," Joshua says, stepping into the room. He's so quiet, it takes you aback. "Still unpacking?" 

"Sorry." You gesture around you. "I underestimated my ability to overpack."

"You should have told the staff," he says, surveying the damage. "Do you need help?" 

"No," you insist. Somehow the prospect of him getting on the ground to sort out all of your things upsets you, even more than him touching all of your unmentionables. "No. Please. Just ignore me."

"Alright." 

Joshua seems to take no issue with that, gratefully. He takes a seat on the chaise at the foot of the bed. He's got a copy of Anna Karenina under his arm, probably to weigh the pros and cons of cheating on you. You don't blame him—in fact, maybe it would make your doomed marriage exciting enough to be tolerable. 

"PR event tomorrow," you start, folding up a nightdress. "Bet you're excited for that." 

“As excited as one can be before announcing their arranged marriage," he replies dryly. "But surely you have enough experience with the press for the both of us." 

So that’s how he wanted to play. Fine. You wouldn’t let him walk all over you a second time. 

"Well, I'd hope all those classes you took would be good for something."

"That's rich, coming from the case study on bad media training." 

"Oh, please," you snap. "At least I know how to have a good time." 

"I was having a great time before I was informed this was happening." 

"Forgive me. I had no idea you were so invested in my personal life." You huff as you heave an oversized armful of clothes to the closet. “Think TMZ has any job openings?” 

"Very funny," he retorts. Joshua holds up a skimpy black dress that's fallen from your pile, one well acquainted with the midnight grease of one too many nightclubs. "You dropped this, by the way. I don't really think the nightlife here will be quite to your taste, though." 

"Oh right, because this is where happiness goes to die, huh?" You snatch it back from him, feeling the knot of anger in your gut flare. 

The room seems to pulse with an uncomfortable silence, red-hot with unsaid words. You recognize the all too familiar way Joshua sets his jaw back, and you're transported all the way to the study in the east wing, snoutless lion, terracotta steps, and all. He’s not any different from anyone else, so you’re not sure why you expected anything else. 

You do the only thing you can do—bite your tongue. 

"Look," you finally say, gathering the wherewithal to call for a truce. "I know that we didn't ask for this." 

Joshua laughs. Actually, it's the first time you've heard it since you've met, and it would be an otherwise tolerable, even nice, sound if it wasn't directed right at you.

"Right, because who doesn't want to have to babysit someone for the rest of their life?" 

You take a hard swallow.  You've both done enough damage for tonight, although you'd love to see his expression when you call him the live-action version of Frollo from The Hunchback of Notre Dame. Maybe another time. 

Instead you think of Jeonghan, stuck in his meetings and sunk into this new, starched form of himself that you find difficult to recognize. Still, he's your brother, and you'd hate to see him suffer for it. 

"Stop. I'll be good," you say. "I promise. I know there's a lot at stake for the both of us." 

You can hear Joshua's long, drawn exhale. The furrow dug between his brows flattens out, and he seems to be reminded of everything they taught you both in Conflict Resolution 101. 

"I apologize. I got out of line," he says. You watch the cogs turn on that unfortunately pretty face of his. You hope he finally reveals that he has a much better, kinder personality that he was waiting to debut, but he doesn't. Instead he picks up yet another fallen item from your stash and hands it to you (this time, a much more presentable blouse). 

"I know we don't like each other—" You hold up a hand to interrupt him from lying to you. “—but we can do our best for the cameras. Because that matters. Hate me all you want in private." 

"Okay." He gives you a defeated look, which is all you suppose you'll get out of him today. "Deal." 

That night, there are no more backhanded compliments, quips, or mean-spirited attempts at sarcasm. 

You sink into your side of the bed, a damask-woven vat of quicksand, and watch the spears of light dance on the ceiling. If you had known your last outing was the one a few days ago, maybe you would have drank a little more, stayed out later. Maybe you wouldn't have even gone home. 

Joshua has been reading on the other side of the bed, which seems like oceans apart. The metronomic turn of his pages would have put you to sleep if it wasn't for this new fear, a black, trembling one, that's now taken residence in your chest. It feels like you are further from yourself than you've ever been, and you don't know how to get back. 

"Is it too bright for you?" Joshua's voice, now tempered by the stillness of the evening, pulls you out of your thoughts. "I can turn the lamp off." 

"It's ok," you groan. "Can't really sleep. Don't worry about it." 

He doesn't say anything. Instead you hear the oiled pull of the bedside nightstand before he places something on the bed beside you.

It's a book. Specifically, one of those trashy romances that they only sell at the airport because no one would be brave enough to read them anywhere else.

"It's no Dan Brown," he says. "Hopefully still to your liking." 

You sit up against the headboard and flip through the pages. The prince of Acros owning a book with the words "juicy", "mewling", and "best friend's brother" in the first fifty pages are enough to tide you over for the night. Probably the next week, to be honest.

"Yes, indeed, your highness. Of the raunchy summer fling." 

Joshua smiles, and this time, you think it's a real one. 

--

You hate mornings. 

You thought this one would be different, probably due to the fact that you would soon be standing in front of a few too many cameras to announce your tragic fate to the entire world. Unfortunately, it's like all your other mornings—rushed, nauseous, and now with all the added anxiety of a semi-non consensual public appearance. 

"Five minutes!" you holler as best you can, a hair pin wiggling in the corner of your mouth. Rule number one of a hard launch: don't be caught looking complacent. Even if the other half of the launch would rather be with anyone other than you. 

Joshua's in the attached bathroom doing his hair. Like everything else he does, it is painfully calculated. He might be the only person in the world who takes "pea-sized" seriously as a measurement tool. 

But even as he so carefully measures his pomade, pump by pump, you don't miss the way his eyes skim over your figure as you lean over the vanity chair to apply your lipstick. Maybe it's because your ass is practically vacuum sealed into your sundress, or maybe he's just looking for another fight to pick. Either way, there's a small part of you that takes pride in this, even if just a little. 

"Ready?" Joshua asks, switching off the bathroom light. You hate to admit it, but he looks good in a sports jacket. You remind yourself that you had to literally rock-paper-scissors this morning to use the vanity mirror because you fogged the bathroom up after your shower. "It's not a pageant." 

"Shush. You are so rude. Never interrupt a girl when she's getting ready." 

In the mirror, you watch Joshua huff behind you. Then he procures a little black box from his pocket, and a crazy sort of feeling washes over you before you remind yourself to be normal. Ten-year-old you would have cried and threatened arson if she knew this is how you would eventually be proposed to, but you have no choice. 

You're sure Joshua feels the same. He was probably hoping for something classic with all the works, and instead he's got a pissed-off Jihoon and you, internationally renowned harlot. Funny how things turn out.

"Any minute now," bitches Jihoon from the other side of the door. 

You close your compact and turn around to face Joshua, who's still fumbling with the box.

"I'm sure this is not what you anticipated," he says, finally cracking it open. “But—" 

"No speech. Just put it on." You stick your left hand out, still glittery from last week’s manicure. "Not like it means much anyway." 

"Yeah."

And just like that, it is done. You feel the shock of Joshua's huge hands over yours, then the unceremonious bite of the cold band. He doesn't linger. 

You hold your newly engaged hand in front of you. The ring must have looked better in the box—on you, it seems out of place, gaudy, yet another thing you can't quite fit into. It squeezes your finger a bit, but it'll do. 

"Ready?" he asks. 

"Let's get this over with."

If romance wasn’t already dead, then it died here, today, in your prison cell bedroom. 

You have no time to lament this, as Joshua’s already half out the door. Quickly, he seems to shed his foul, argumentative inside personality and slip into a second-skin, one that is more poised, gracious, and luminous.

Today's objective is supposed to be simple: friendly, premarital pictures to accompany a written statement to the public announcing your engagement. No paparazzi, no journalists. Still, you're starting to see why your parents decided it was a good idea to stick you with this guy. 

In the foyer, your families await you. It's as if their gaze can slow time—at least four people approved your outfit, and still, the weight of their eyes on you, ever appraising, is crushing. Immediately, your mother starts rearranging the strands of hair on the top of your head and fiddling with the sleeves of your dress, like you're some sort of doll. 

"Come, come," a member of the PR team urges. "Everything is set up. We'll be quick." 

There's a frenetic, tense energy over the palace. It's clear that this marriage is a gambit no one is happy with, and today would make it very, very real. 

Outside, there is a lone photographer. The sun, morning-ripe, reflects off his camera lens like a third eye. The lawn, freakishly green, sprawls out around you, and the blue spruce frames the scene, perfect by design. 

"I just need you to stand next to each other and smile," he says. "That's all, right?" he directs this towards your PR team, about seven too many for a task like this. One of them whispers something in his ear. Your parents watch from the shaded doorstep like wax figures in a museum. 

You and Joshua stand shoulder to shoulder, yearbook photo style. 

"Bit closer," the photographer calls out, and you smush yourself against his arm, close enough that you can appreciate he's got some muscle on him. "Alright. Hold still." 

Click. You've always hated the flash, but you root yourself obediently to the concrete. Your cheeks hurt from smiling. Click. 

Your mother interrupts her conversation with a staff member—likely haggling over the minutia of the statement—and says, "Look happier," as if you're in some dystopian advertisement for a new car. 

"She's talking to you," Joshua says through the grit of his fake, pink smile. 

"Right, because you're such a peach." 

You just want to go back inside and have breakfast. 

You place a tentative hand on Joshua's bicep and turn to him, beaming like you would at a hot bartender when there are five other people waiting for a drink. 

There's a glimmer of surprise in his expression before he matches you. You can see why people dote on him so much—his cheeks get round, and his eyes magically gain the sparkles that people pay for on Facetune. God really seems to have wasted a perfect face on him. 

"Move your hand up so we can see the ring." You obey, feeling the firm cord of his arm underneath you, and you wonder where the gym is in the palace. Joshua was certainly gatekeeping it from you. "Perfect." 

You stand there, living your America's Next Top Model nightmare, before the photographer hits you with, "A kiss for the camera, yeah?" 

All the blood drains from your face. You think you actually say Huh? aloud. Joshua opts to turn to his parents to intervene, which would be funny in literally any other scenario except this one. 

"You heard him," his father replies. "Act like you're actually engaged." 

Honestly, it was a fair request. No one wanted to take any chances. Plausible rumors of an arranged marriage would backfire spectacularly. Jeonghan wouldn't see the front cover of anything ever again, and the entirety of Acros would wonder just how deep in the shitter they were that Joshua was forced to marry you. 

Your parents were already so far into the conspiracy, you overheard them talking about using unpublished paparazzi pictures and rebranding them as times you snuck off to see your unfortunate lover. Point taken. 

"Okay, okay," you laugh nervously. "Of course." 

You face Joshua, steeling yourself, and lean in. The world seems to fall away, but not how you like—it feels as though you've been sucked out of your own body and dropped into a new one that doesn't know what a kiss is or how to do it. 

He's just like anyone else, you tell yourself. You're at the club. They're playing Everytime We Touch by Cascada. 

Soon all you know is the heat of your cheeks, the shaking flat of your palm over Joshua's shoulder, and the wet pressure of what feels like a pair of lips, soft but also very unwilling. 

Click. Click. Then it's over. Everyone huddles around the camera, like animals to a watering hole. Shame, hot and heavy, seems to drape itself over you. 

"Can we get one more?" the photographer asks.

Fuck. Your stomach drops. You can't even glare at Joshua. 

"Sure thing," Joshua says easily, unaware he was the reason it went so badly in the first place. 

You take a deep breath. You imagine a good Kylie Minogue song and a tall stranger with pecs that could fit into a bra, and your eyes flutter shut. 

You decide to go for it this time. Unfortunately, you and your inept partner are on entirely opposite pages again, and you almost miss each other by a mile. When you do get it right, it's messy, two teenagers fumbling in a closet with the lights off. 

Once everyone sees this massacre, it seems they resign themselves to the same conclusion you had long ago. Someone throws a thumbs up above their head, and everyone clears out so fast, it's like nothing ever happened. 

Soon, it's just you, Joshua, and your mother with a red pen and the manuscript. Your heart is still buzzing in your chest, even though you and Joshua are now standing at a distance that makes you believe in the cheese touch again. 

"Now that wasn’t so bad," she says, before escorting the two of you back inside. Perhaps lying cushions the blow of a bad decision, but you're already in too deep. The script, the cameras, even your mother's glossy words—your life is starting to feel like a permanent movie set, and you don't know how to clock out. 

The first thing you do is take off the ring. It's starting to look more and more like costume jewelry on your untrained, bumbling hand. Even still, you can still feel its ghost on your finger, see the glare of the camera flash in the laser-cut facets. 

Worse, you watch Joshua shrug off his sport jacket, likely wondering how exactly that went so wrong, and you can feel that same sensation, still warm, right over your lips.

--

"Save me, red wine, save me." 

Home, sweet home. You're back in Cotria for the rest of the week. This morning's stint was the only thing you had on the schedule, and you told Joshua you had some business to attend to at home. 

Said business was a Niçoise salad and half a bottle of wine, but no one had to know that part. Your struggle meals were your own business, and you think you will actually disintegrate on the spot if you have to sit through another conversation about World War II with Joshua's dad. The one you had at dinner last night was plenty. 

The restaurant you’re at is a familiar haunt, but not too familiar. The ass-kissers and the groupies have gotten good at keeping their heads on a swivel, and you’re not exactly planning on another encounter with a camera. But here, the crowd is quiet enough, the food good enough, the service fast enough. It’s enough, which you’ve come to prefer. 

That's the other thing about Cotria—there’s an overabundance of everything. Department stores, parlors, dog cafes, polished bars with overpriced cocktails. It’s almost a rarity to find a place like this, quiet enough to actually talk. 

"You must be in the fucking trenches," Somi says, shaking her head. "When's the press release getting published?"

"Next week," you groan. "The good news is that they want us to go to the derby afterward."

"Okay, miss horse girl," Somi says, clinking her wine glass against yours. "You betting this year?" 

"No, I shouldn't." You shovel another forkful of leaves into your mouth. "But I really hope I get to watch it instead of pretending to like a guy the whole time." 

"I didn't see you pretending in uni," Somi says, cocking an eyebrow up at you. "And those guys are ugly. This guy isn't." 

"Okay, wait," you protest. "Ugly cute. Don't get it twisted. And they don't act like sentient wet paint. This guy sucks." 

You're reminded of the moment before you left the palace this morning. Joshua saw that same black dress that he used against you make its way into your bag, and he gave you the dirtiest stink eye you'd ever seen. 

I'm not above tattling. They were the first words he'd said to you after The Incident. 

Good thing you won't have to, you replied. He didn't even see you out because no one was standing around to clap him on the back for being a good fake fiancé. 

"Whatever." Somi picks a tomato off your plate in exchange for some of her fries. "I wouldn't mind it, is what I'm saying." 

"You slept with the bouncer to get into Annabel’s." 

"Fuck off. He was actually really good. Club entry was just a bonus," she laughs. "That reminds me—you're coming to my birthday, right? Or do you have wifely duties now?" 

"Of course I'm coming!" you insist, feeling the word duty hit like an actual bullet to your chest. "I wouldn't miss it for the world." 

"Just making sure! You know I gotta have my people around." 

You had known Somi since you were in diapers. She's the cousin twice removed of a baron, or a count, or maybe even a viscount–you never were good at keeping track of those kinds of things. Even though you had seen her at countless brunches, coronations, and garden parties, you don't think you actually became friends until you ran into her at a college party in Mykonos. She sidled up to you, smelling like strawberries and the bleachy sting of hair dye, and handed you a cucumber margarita. 

The beer here sucks, she had whisper-shouted to you, right over the shell of your ear. Wanna dance? You were inseparable ever since. 

"It's going to be huge. There are, like, 200 people on the guest list right now. Soonyoung rented a villa, There's gonna be a champagne tower, and the music won't suck. Guaranteed." 

"That sounds perfect," you sigh. "Please tell me there's gonna be a pool. I need to show off my new swimsuit." 

"Duh." Somi rolls her eyes, glittery under her extensions. "The perfect opportunity to show the world that their hottest bachelorette is a bachelorette no longer. Also, we invited Pitbull.” 

“Shut the fuck up. Wait, is he actually coming?” 

”Dunno. Wouldn’t be very Mr. Worldwide of him to flake, though.” 

Pitbull or not, you think of the heat of the strobe lights, the electric trill of the too-loud speakers. You're dancing in a dress that looks like a chunk of the moon, with the little neon ties of your bikini top peeking out the sides. There's a peach highball in your hands and no one is telling you what to do, how to do it, or that you're doing it wrong. 

Then you think of Joshua. Maybe he'd loosen up after a few drinks. Maybe he'd dance with you, put those hands to use on your hips and kiss you like he should have earlier today. Maybe he'd even be good at it. The thought makes your cheeks sting.

“Should I invite Joshua?” Somi says, wrinkling her nose at how you immediately grimace. “What if he’s actually a blast?” 

"No! No. Absolutely not." 

“What if he’s—” Then she drops her singsong voice to a whisper. “Hung? Don’t tell me you haven’t seen those pictures of him in the Galapagos.” 

Unfortunately, you have. A lurid, glassy image of your soon-to-be-husband in a sleazy pair of swim trunks comes into vision. You push past the smile, the unfair pecs, and remind yourself of that horrible, self-righteous twist of the lips that he always has. 

Yes, that’s right. That’s the Joshua you know. 

You grab the wine from her and drink it right from the bottle. 

–

Of course it had to be the one time you’re not late to an event that you forget you had swapped everything in all your purses around. You double check your bag—empty. 

You’re already down by half of your worldly possessions (still at home, your real home), and you probably left the other half on Joshua’s bathroom counter. Yesterday, you got derailed mid-task by Joshua lighting the grossest candle ever. You never thought you’d ever fight over candles of all things, but you couldn’t let him walk away from that conversation thinking wet dirt was a normal, socially acceptable, scent for a bedroom. (—It said moss on the label! —So, dirt. —Moss is not dirt. Maybe you need to go back to school.) 

You fling open the bathroom door, still checking the pockets of your handbag, before you collide into a big, sopping wet wall. 

“What the—?” You look up. The wall is not a wall. No, in fact, it is your fiancé, bare fucking naked. 

Your heart jumps up to your throat. It feels like you walked right into a porno, and you can hear Somi’s self-satisfied, witch cackle right in your ear. His dark hair seems to fall into his eyes just right, a nice change from how he normally gels it up, and you watch the beads of water from the shower, torturously glittery, run down his jaw, the hollow of his neck, right onto his chest. 

Men should not be allowed to have bigger boobs than you, at least, not dowdy Joshua Hong, who normally has the sex appeal of an eraser. And God forbid your eyes travel downward and confirm Somi’s sick and twisted hypothesis, past the washboard abs, the v-line, the trail down his— 

“Sorry, did you need something?” You blink again and Joshua suddenly has a towel wrapped around his waist. And he’s eyeing you like you ate a million cloves of garlic and then proceeded to spit on him. “Or are you just going to stand here and ogle me?” 

“I wasn't—no!” You start snatching things off the counter, anything really, and throwing them into your bag. “I just needed to grab stuff for my… my thing. You’re in the way.” 

“Right, because you need four q-tips and my razor to read a children’s book,” Joshua replies, plucking the offending items out of your purse. “It's almost 12:30, by the way.” 

“Shit. Fuck,” you stammer. You can’t glare at him anymore because you know where your eyes will end up and it is not on his face. “Stop distracting me. Whatever.” 

“Have fun,” is the last thing Joshua tells you before you close the bathroom door, that portal to hell, right back up. 

What you can’t do is return the image of what you saw back to where it came from, the wicked, glistening form of Joshua and his B cup tits. He looked so good, it makes you angry. 

Later, on the walk to the library, you reach for your lip gloss. Instead, you pull out q-tip number five and get mad all over again. 

–

The car ride to the derby feels like your own personal Saw trap, if Jigsaw wore a ridiculous hat and was actually your mother. 

Your engagement was announced to the public just a few days ago. It came with no fanfare, no warning. You were sitting on your bed, making your way through the smut Joshua called a novel, when the news app on your phone kindly notified you that you were now a taken woman. 

To some degree, the media uproar fascinated you. The idea that people with actual journalism degrees were writing headcanons about your honeymoon when you hadn’t even seen Joshua since The Bathroom Incident was surely entertaining, to say the least. But, like everything, the unsaid pressure of being a perfect princess, now part of an even more perfect couple, hangs heavy over you. 

You remind yourself this is supposed to be fun. A real couple would be pawing at each other in the backseat, perhaps pregaming with champagne or fan-casting their pick for Spirit the horse. Instead, you’re stuck rehearsing your pitch to the reporters when they inevitably ask you about how the hell this happened. You wish you could tell them you’re not quite sure either. 

Silently, you look at Joshua. Joshua looks out the window. The world rumbles under you. 

[10:15 am, race 1]

The air seizes, swirls with clay-colored dust in the morning sun. The clubhouse is already heady with the low buzz of conversation—you watch the freckled sunhats and oily toupees bob up and down in the swell of the crowd, deep in the morning’s small talk. You wonder how many of them are talking about you, given how recently the news hit. You’re used to people ignoring your media appearances, not celebrating them. 

Someone, tipping their head down to greet you, hands you a program. Joshua elects to tuck his in his back pocket. People don’t come to the derby to watch the races. Instead, it’s an excuse to gossip, day drink, and gamble, which would ordinarily be a good time for you if you weren’t overly invested in the racing circuit. 

All the way from the entrance to your seats, you were met with a tidal wave of camera flashes, all hungry for a glimpse of your first public appearance as a couple. Alongside this, a decidedly worse flurry of congratulations paired with an overly familiar touch to the shoulder or a limp handshake. Joshua is quick to respond with either a smile or some trite platitude. Your least favorite: We couldn’t be happier. Now he’s just lying for sport. 

“We should find the reporters doing interviews,” Joshua says the second his ass touches the chair, unfazed by the onslaught of perhaps a million different people. “The Sun probably wants to talk to us.” 

You’re not listening—you can’t let on that this whole ordeal is mildly terrifying for you. He has enough reasons to dislike you, and stage fright wouldn’t exactly be a good addition to the list. 

The racehorses have lined up at the track, their manes catching the daylight like holy fire. You like the one on the end. He looks like Peanut, Jeonghan’s stubborn palomino. 

Joshua says your name insistently, curdled with the annoyance that you’ve now become acquainted with, and you catch a stray camera flash from the stands. You have an audience, and the audience demands a show, even if they’re second-rate journalists like the scum from The Sun.  

“Darling,” you reply flatly. “Relax. Let's enjoy the races.” 

The horses stretch their long legs, anxious for the thunderclap of the starter’s pistol. Joshua raises a tired eyebrow before the same realization dawns on him. 

“Absolutely.” He clears his throat. “Darling.” 

You wrap a hand around his arm—somehow he makes hand-holding seem like third base—and watch his shoulders sink with a sigh, like you just popped him. 

Likewise, your highness. Likewise. 

A shot crackles through the air, and you’re off to the races. 

[12:43 pm, race 2.]

"I just have to know—how did you guys meet?" 

You know the duchess of Pemarlia to be beautiful and unashamedly nosy, and she has yet to prove you wrong on either account. 

The last time you saw her was on the beach at Lake Como last year, where she spent the entirety of your conversation asking if Jeonghan was single (and peeking into your bag to see what brand of lipstick you were wearing). Like everyone, she always seems to have a look of appraisal on her face. What makes her different is that she never really bothers to hide it; instead, she wears it like an en-vogue accessory. 

She eyes you with an intensity, sizing up your dress, your tawdry sunhat, your ring. You wonder if she’d agree that marriage didn’t look good on you, but any shorter of a dress, your mother would call you a stripper. And God forbid you leave the house hat-less. 

Now she’s no minotaur. This shouldn’t be much of a problem, save for one very small issue: you actually hadn’t planned your answer to this. You had quibbled over it briefly in the car, but you were too focused on your interview pitch to worry about minor gossip. 

"Well," Joshua starts. Through his smile, you can hear the warning edge of his voice. “It was quite ordinary.” 

"Actually," you cut him off. Not only would his version of this story be boring, it would also be horribly out-of-character for you. You did not come this far for your cover to be blown by Joshua’s lack of imagination. "Josh's parents hosted a—" 

"Brunch," Joshua finishes. Whether his teeth are gritted because he's grinning or frustrated is none of your business. “It was Easter brunch, wasn’t it, sweet pea? Four years ago?” 

The pet name makes you want to puke. Now he’s just trying to piss you off, but you know this is his attempt to play along. He's annoying, not dumb. 

"Yes, we sat across from each other.” You playfully dig your elbow into Joshua’s rock-hard side. “He was giving me the eyes the whole time.” 

You watch your hapless victim giggle, her spidery lashes wide with intrigue. Joshua is a little less pleased. 

“If you could call it that,” he replies. “I think you had chocolate on your nose.”

“Which you so kindly wiped off for me, dear.” You try to peek around the flaxen billows of the duchess’s blowout to watch the horses behind her, but to no avail. “After a morning of staring, we had to do an Easter egg hunt, planned by Joshie himself. I had no idea he loved silly little games like that.” 

“It's because people like the princess get so competitive,” Joshua says, with his laser beam grin boring into your eye sockets. “I believe I found you rummaging through the trash for eggs, like some kind of animal.” 

“Oh my goodness,” the duchess laughs. “How...charming.”  

You feel your eyebrow twitch. Only you’re allowed to ruin your own reputation, but you suppose that’s just another thing your horrible fake fiance gets to take from you. 

“Not as embarrassing as seeing Joshua leer at me from behind the corner,” you retort. “He was so enamored that when I invited him to join me, he got right down on his knees to look through the trash together.” 

“Well, did you find anything?” 

“Yes—”

“No—”

“Well—”

Fuck. Luckily, the duchess is either stupid or wildly entertained by the clown show playing out before her. Maybe both. 

“Cute,” she coos. “You must have been too smitten to notice.” 

“Absolutely,” Joshua says, as if there is a gun held to his pretty head. “Among all the garbage and the girl next to me, I suppose nothing else really mattered.” 

“If that isn’t love, what is?” she asks blithely. 

If only she knew. 

[3:45 pm, race 3]

The sun descends on the stadium, swollen and yellow with the afternoon. 

Last year, you and your friends had a betting ring set up during the racing circuit. Obviously, you had won—not too hard when your competition included Soonyoung, who only bet on horses named after food (sadly, it was not Tater Tot’s year). Somi was no better, and your brother thought every horse deserved a participation award.

This time around, things aren’t so simple. But you’d hate to say that you spent a whole day at the track and didn’t bet on a single race. Life could afford you at least one win for today. 

Again, the horses take their positions at the starting line, wound up like a line of rubber bands. The air heaves with bated breath. 

“Joshua,” you say, folding your hands in your lap as you find your target. “I'd like to propose a bet.” 

“You must be a glutton for punishment.” 

You bite back a laugh as you watch your favorite horse, the palomino, ripple in place. Fans would call her a charity case, but you know better. 

“Pick a horse. Mine is number Three, in the blue.” 

“And if mine wins? What’s in it for me?” he asks. Still, he leans forward, corded forearms on his thighs. You watch him squint as he surveys the field with renewed interest. 

“You pick,” you reply. “Choose wisely. I personally cannot wait to call in a favor from you.” 

“The chestnut one. Number Nine.” So he is competitive. “And likewise. Perhaps I'll hold it over your head until the wedding.” 

Before you can reply, you hear the starting pistol rip clean into the air. The racehorses surge forward, as if a silken ribbon through air. 

“Nine makes sense for you,” you say, eyes fixed before you. “He's flashy, the crowd favorite. Spotless pedigree.” 

“I'm picking your punishment already.” 

“I didn't say he would win.” You feel the lilt of your voice rocking upward, the tremulous beat of your heart against your ribs. “You see, Three’s had a rough season. There she is, passing Four right now.” 

“Nine is still first, though.” 

“It’s not about that,” you reply. “She does this, she starts all the way out back and then flies up. No one suspects anything—it’s like she likes proving people wrong. The first couple races of the season, she was just stretching her legs; they were small, small fry. It’s this one that matters.” 

The saddles are just blurs on the track now. To the march of the hoofbeats, Three lunges past Five, Six. The crowd roars. 

“This will be her first win. I'm counting on it. She’s come really close before.” 

Joshua doesn’t reply. Out of the corner of your eye, you see his gaze has shifted. You feel it land somewhere near you, but you’re too engrossed in the race to investigate further. Perhaps he’s admitted defeat preemptively, wisely so. 

“You know your stuff,” he murmurs, the clamor of the audience almost burying him. 

“How can I not?” Three coasts past One and Ten like she’s flying, until it’s just her and unlucky number Nine. “Oh my god. Go, go, go!” 

You and Joshua rise to your feet, as if drawn by a string, now wholly invested in the race. 

“Still beating you, you know.” 

“Not for long! Come on!” 

You watch your darling number Three, against all odds, pull past Joshua’s number Nine, burning a trail past the inevitable finish line. 

From somewhere inside you emerges a joy that you hadn’t felt since this whole ordeal started. You turn to Joshua and clasp his hands between yours, somehow less wooden now, and so, so human. The crowd cheers; they come alive. 

[4:50 pm, races 4 and 5. mainly, the reporter from the sun.] 

The smaller races take place shortly after the headliner, for better or for worse. This forces you to finally face the music—the music being a dull-eyed, greasy journalist ready to sink his teeth into the public’s new favorite topic. 

Joshua is a good sport about it, or at least, he’s good at pretending to be one. 

“It was great,” is his answer to a question you didn’t hear. You’re busy going over the parts of the script that you remember. Your media team spent the better part of the morning repeating it back to you, which was helpful until it wasn’t. You weren’t sure how to tell them you’ve actually never been good at speaking to the press, since you had spent the better half of your life doing the exact opposite. 

“And what did the princess think? It’s not often we catch you for an interview, you know.” 

The eye of the camera seems to pierce through you. You can see your shellacked figure, long and distorted, in the reflection. 

“I—um,” you swallow hard. God. Pull it together. You can already hear the lecture you’re going to get on the way home today. “Yeah, big day today.”

“She’s had to really rein in her excitement, you know,” Joshua adds, chuckling. 

Briefly, you feel his hand brush against yours. Ordinarily, you’d pass it off as a fluke, but you feel the steady, insistent warmth of his palm again, first, to the inside of your wrist, then lower still. Before you’re able to really process what’s happening, he then takes your hand in his all at once, as if to say, I’ve got this. I’ve got you. 

You figure he’s cashing in his favor early–he’d much rather leave you out to dry, let you flounder a bit so you learn to read the PR memorandums the night before. I told you so, he’d say. That’s what everyone else would say, anyway. 

“The races are sure exciting, but I'm sure you’re even more excited about your upcoming wedding.” The reporter grins at you, as if he smells your fear. His hair looks like it’s glued to the top of his shiny head. “If I'm going to be honest, you were one of the last people we’d expect to tie the knot this year. We are all dying to hear more.” 

What? You force yourself to breathe, feel the air fill your lungs, to avoid making an expression you’ll regret. 

“Well, yeah, I'm sure it looks like it all happened quickly,” you answer, feeling your tongue trip over the words. Mostly because it did, in fact, happen quickly, but you can’t let them know that. “But Josh and I feel strongly about, uh, this whole thing, and—”

“Please, don’t spare us the details.” 

Telepathically, Joshua squeezes your hand. This, you understand. He’s telling you to lean on him, and you trust that. 

“Hold your horses,” he cuts in, almost too quickly, which makes the corners of your mouth twitch upward. He was definitely looking for an opening, but you, bizarrely, don’t mind at all. He turns to you and smiles. “What's the fun without a little mystery? It's been a wild ride, but I'm loving every second of it.” 

It’s this one, the lamest and most embarrassing dad joke of them all, that gets you. 

You laugh: a real one, big, loud, and unafraid. It's here, caught in the glare of the camera flash, where you find yourself hoping, even just a little, that this wasn’t just a favor, that this was a sign you could actually survive this arrangement. 

You’re not asking for love—just a little bit of like. and, right now, you think you like Joshua Hong. 

—

In the evening, you find yourself in the oaken parlor nestled away in the back halls of the Acrosian palace. 

There's a piano there, gathering dust. It's a Steinway, spindly and chestnut, almost identical to the one you have at the palace in Cotria. 

You and Jihoon had been unpacking your hodgepodge of things (unsorted, since the act of sorting would have forced you to stomach the fact that you were actually moving), when he had found your old lesson books. 

You should break in that piano, he had said. Either that, or wait for your fiance to find you. He seemed ok at the derby today. 

I guess. 

What Jihoon hadn’t seen was all the photographs you had to take after your interview with The Sun, where Joshua decided to remind you that you were supposed to hate him. By that, you mean that he managed to make every single one unbearable. (A tap of the foot: Stand up straight. A careful brush of the elbow: Let’s link arms. A discerning, tactful glance at your chest: Pull up your dress. That, or he was no better than the average man.) 

You and he hadn’t talked much after that. Hopefully, he’s fled to your cold, dark dungeon of a room to read, so he can finally leave you alone.

“Remember when your parents invited all their friends over and asked you to play?” Jihoon says, perched on the loveseat while he sorts through an old jewelry box. 

“Yeah, and I literally forgot everything?” you laugh. “Freaking Jeonghan had to check on me because I locked myself in my room for 24 hours straight. And then he had the nerve to laugh at me.” 

You thumb through the fattest book of the pile. The binding is soft; the pages now yellow and fuzzed over by time. 

On page 5, Chopin's Waltz in A-flat major. three four time or whatever, you had scrawled in defiant red ink. Page 37, a thick black line through Debussy's name on Arabesque No. 1. This is because you would always laugh at it during lessons, and you wanted to save yourself the trouble. 

“Do you want to keep this?” Jihoon holds up a choker that resembles a jock strap. “When did you even wear this? It looks like a cat toy.” 

You ignore him and start to play. You were never excellent—competent would be a better word. Still, it was enough for you. Soonyoung would ask you to play during drunk karaoke, and you could still keep up with Jeonghan when he played one of his overcomplicated duets. 

Your hands remember the velvet thud of the keys, the glide of the pedal. When you turn the page, there’s a scrawled in BITCH! next to a heavily circled allegro. Piano was one of the only things that your parents forced you to do that you actually liked. The kicker was that it didn’t even do you any good. You weren’t as talented as your parents would like you to be, meaning that, to them, you weren’t talented at all. 

It’s then that your fingers slip, and you miss a chord. In your defense, you have a fresh manicure. Always blame the nails. Your mom hated when you kept them long, even more than your hardass tutor.  

“The prince is helping with the theater production this year, right?” Jihoon holds a single earring up to the light. You think you lost the other one in Ibiza last year. “You gonna help out again?” 

“Maybe.” Another wrong note. You’re losing steam trying to read all the ledger lines and your smeared, illegible writing next to them. “I don't know. He probably won’t even want me to. I'm choosing a different piece, by the way. Bored of this one.” 

The truth about your 21st birthday was that you did actually intend to spend it at the youth theater. It was your idea before it was Jeonghan’s idea, but, at the time, you both still were a package deal.

You were on piano; Jeonghan was on whatever else he pleased. He'd always been indecisive like that. At the bench, you’d hoist the little ones on your knee and regale them with the classical version of the opening song from paw patrol. Jeonghan stole prop masks from the back, mostly to hide behind the curtains and scare people, you included. You’d both stay up late, paint spackled on your palms, trying to Michelangelo a backdrop with the combined artistic talent of a TI-84. 

The production became your thing, just you and him, no cameras, no press releases, no parents. But like everything else, neither you, Jeonghan, nor anyone else was able to keep those inevitable truths apart. The set pieces were repainted in Italy, the finger-painted fields turned luminescent with varnish; the pins and needles in the costumes swapped with mother-of-pearl; and, finally, you, replaced by a classically trained pianist from Juilliard. At least he was hot. 

Everyone knows the rest of the story—the red carpet, the empty seats, and the puffy pink balloons outside the mansion in Saint Tropez. 

“Oh please,” Jihoon wheedles. “You and I both know he wanted you there.” 

“Then maybe he should have fought harder.” You flip to a random page, this one marked up in pink gel pen. You remember it bled through all the pages behind it, making it a pain to read but awfully funny during lessons. “It doesn't matter. There’s probably wedding stuff i gotta deal with.” 

Jihoon lets you play this next piece uninterrupted. It’s not that it’s a sensitive subject for you—there were plenty of other things that filled the wedge between you and your brother—but it certainly didn’t help. 

You let your fingers wander over the stubborn keys. It feels good to play, even if you’re almost unforgivably rusty. You reach for the page, when you hear Jihoon again: “You know, you’re allowed to come in, your highness.” 

Immediately, your hands freeze. Like a scolded child, you become aware of how your fingers teeter over the keys, the stumbling, awkward clacking of your nails, the one or two missed quarter notes from the last measure. 

You turn to face the door, where Joshua stands, leaning against the frame like a sleazy model from an Abercrombie catalog. He probably came from the gym. Seeing him dressed down is still very weird, mostly because you can’t decide if it’s because he looks good or if it’s because it reminds of seeing your teacher at the grocery store. 

“Anyone teach you manners?” you ask, unsure if your hackles should be raised. 

“No, I was raised in a barn, just like those horses you like so much,” he laughs. “I didn’t want to interrupt. You’re not bad, you know.” 

“Thanks.” You eye him skeptically. “Thought you were gonna comment on the nails.” 

“Do you want me to?” 

“Preferably not, but it’s not like you‘d listen to me anyway.” You look for Jihoon’s reaction, but he seems to have conveniently disappeared. “Let’s play a duet. I’m cashing in my favor.” 

“Sure,” Joshua replies. “I'm no good, though. Might be more of a punishment for you.” 

You slide over on the bench, and he sidles up next to you. He smells like Le Labo and sweat, the sting citrusy and bright, close enough to linger. 

“No good?” You pick up another fat book from the stack atop the lid: The Joy of Duets. “Me neither.” 

“You have no idea,” he chuckles. “And trust me, I tried.”  

“I’ll do top?” you announce. 

Joshua snickers, and you kick him under the bench (really, just a tap of your foot). 

You spend the next two minutes tripping over a Schubert piece. Terribly, this is endearing to you. You make somewhat of a couple—you, with your horrible form, and Joshua, now squinting at the key signature like it’ll make it easier to read.

“Buddy,” you exclaim. “Left hand goes here.” Laughing, you reposition his hand mid-chord to an octave below. You feel it tense beneath you before yielding to proper technique. 

“Aw, what?” he whines. “See, I told you I was no good. Give me a second.” 

You watch him puzzle over the next few lines, pretty brow furrowed. You conclude that Pajama Joshua is decidedly better than Prince Joshua. He’s funnier, kinder, warmer. Even his hands feel softer. 

“Also, about earlier today,” you start. The words are starting to dry up on your tongue, but you figure Pajama Joshua is an easier target than usual. “I didn't know they trained you in stand-up comedy.” 

“We laugh in this country too, you know.” When Joshua says this, he grins, bumping into your shoulder like you’d been friends for a long time. For once, it feels easy, natural. 

“Well, thanks anyway.” 

“I couldn't leave my fiancée out to dry.” The word must sound ridiculous even to him, because he laughs just the same as he did when he unloaded his ridiculous puns onto the unassuming world. “No really. We’re in this together, unfortunately. It’s my duty.” 

Duty, both the knife and the wound. You can’t say you’re surprised he’s only nice to you out of obligation. So is everyone else, and you don’t know why you thought it’d be any different, especially coming from him. It’s not like you’re wearing your ring now either; you suppose you’re just as guilty. 

“You cross over here,” you tell him, changing the topic. You slide your hand over his, and it bends to you. “Thumb under. Sorry, I couldn't help but notice.” 

“It's ok,” Joshua replies. “I only learned piano because I had to. When I stopped going to lessons, I forgot everything. Now I feel like I put this piano to shame.” 

“Really? Not to stroke your ego, but you strike me as the type to be good at everything.” 

“No,” he chuckles. “Only when I have to be. I actually wanted to learn how to play guitar.” 

“No way.” 

“Yes way. I wanted to have one of those woven guitar straps, get a little pick collection going, be able to play any song from the Beatles discography. All the cliche stuff.” 

“Well, why can’t you?” you ask. “Minus the Beatles thing. Pick better music.” 

“Back then, it never occurred to me. We all learn piano.” 

“That's silly,” you blurt out. “Who cares?” 

“That's a little rich coming from you.” 

You frown, feeling all the usual unpleasantries bubble up through your skin. 

“That's not really fair.” You absentmindedly play a few keys, all disjointed. “Taking guitar lessons doesn’t make you a problem child.” 

“It's not about that, though,” Joshua says. He's avoiding your eyes. “It's everything, together. I couldn't just pick up a guitar and be someone else.” 

“Someone else? You mean you? The real you?” 

“Yes,” Joshua presses. “That's the point. I can't just do whatever I want. Sometimes the real you is more trouble than it’s worth.” 

“Someone’s dramatic. If you do everything the same, nothing will change. Maybe getting into a little trouble isn’t such a bad thing.” 

“Forgive me,” he says, mid-chuckle. “You wouldn’t call this trouble?” 

He’s got you there. Childishly, all your pride hardens to a lump in your throat, one you’ve never learned to swallow. 

“Your family needed our help too, remember?” 

“Yeah, and you think I don’t think about that every day? How, maybe, if I had done something different, then we wouldn’t be here?” 

You feel stung. You don’t know how to tell him that you’ve been trying to figure out the same thing your whole life. If you were a better daughter, you’d have spared everyone the trouble. Unfortunately, you’d gotten it wrong so many times, you stopped trying.

What's worse is that he doesn’t even sound mad—you watch his fingertips ghost over the keys of a C-scale, rhythmically, methodically. Piano scales, this marriage, everything: just things to do on his never-ending list. 

A hesitant knock at the door interrupts any possibility of you coming up with anywhere close to the right thing to say. 

“Prince Joshua, the king and queen need to speak to you.” It’s an aide, probably sweating bullets deciding when and how they should intrude on this wonderful conversation of yours.

“Right,” says Joshua, and when he gets up from the bench, he doesn’t look back. 

—

“You ready to get stuffed?” 

Good fucking morning to you—Somi’s voice, fluorescent through your phone speakers, seems to be enough of an alarm clock for you. Joshua, in the doorway dual wielding a coffee cup and the morning paper, raises a tired eyebrow.

After the events of last night, you’d wondered if he would somehow disappear at nighttime in an effort to avoid his eventual fate (you). Instead, you found him on his usual side of the bed, drinking his usual mug of chamomile tea, in his usual silence. 

You've heard that couples shouldn’t go to bed angry, but no one said anything about indifferent. Then again, you and Joshua are hardly a couple. 

“Ew,” you laugh. “No. Maybe? Should I be scared?” 

“Absolutely. You’re eating your weight in food today because I need your opinion on catering.” 

Smushing your phone between your cheek and your shoulder, you watch the mirror as your wavering reflection puts on a layer of mascara. 

“For your party?” 

“Yeah, although on second thought, maybe it’s a bad idea to bring the girl who’s gonna puke everything up anyway.” 

“My IBS is none of your business. Besides, the real food critic is Jihoon,” you reply. “Sometimes I feel like that’s the only reason he still works here.” 

“You’re coming in an hour, right?” 

You check the clock. No, you are not. You’re only halfway through a full beat and if you don’t get any caffeine inside you within the hour, you will commit a crime. 

“Nope.” You pop open your compact. “I have to change, and I desperately need to locate a coffee. I will suck a fucking bean off if i need to.” 

“I'm hanging up on you,” Somi whines. “It's too early for you to be gross and late.”  

“As if you weren’t talking about getting stuffed.” 

“Whatever.” Click.

At this point, you feel like Somi’s party is both the proverbial and literal light at the end of the tunnel. No expectations, no rules, and no semi-arguments between you and your doomed fiance. 

Then you notice that Joshua’s disappeared from the room—he probably couldn’t stand listening to your end of the conversation. Briefly, you wonder where he is. Off running an errand for his dear parents, perhaps, or maybe at the gym you still haven’t discovered yet. Even from the hefty distance he keeps you at, you can still appreciate a man who looks like he’s touched a dumbbell. 

It's only when you’re halfway out the door, almost an hour later, juggling your purse and your phone and the distinct absence of a caffeinated beverage, that you find him. 

“Come to ruin my day?” you ask, maybe three-fourths joking. 

“Don’t give me any ideas,” he replies. Under the bluebird sky of late morning, lips upturned and eyes bright, Joshua may be a sight you could get used to. Someday. “Brought you a coffee. I can’t have you sucking off a bean—the reporters would go crazy.” 

Jihoon, hovering by the car, chokes on his water. 

“Oh!” The surprise knocks the sound out of you. “Thank you. Really.” 

“Gladly,” he says, and he sounds like he means it.

He holds all your stuff as you clamber into the car, before handing it back to close the door for you. You’ll admit it’s nice, but as Jihoon starts to drive, you feel a familiar twist in your chest.

“Interesting,” he remarks. “Didn’t know you were on a coffee order basis.” 

“We’re not,” you answer. You pop the lid open. It's a cappuccino, made the classic way, milk foam bubbling out the top. Not your favorite, but it’ll do. 

More than that, it’s an olive branch. Yesterday did get weird, but you’re getting the impression that it’ll always get weird. Undoubtedly, there is someone out there who’ll get Joshua. His schedules, his straight-backed obligation, the polished photo ops and the cappuccinos made to a perfect one to one to one ratio. You know this because this is the world you came from, one that should be home to you. 

Instead, you circle each other in an unsure, clumsy dance. You can’t quite get it right. It's all the same now. The bite of a horse saddle not made for your body, the glow of your heirloom ring, now cheapened by your graceless hand, Joshua’s lonely, reaching palm as he disappears in the rearview mirror. 

—

On your arrival home in the evening, you return with two things: a few extra kilos and an absolutely horrendous copy of the Daily Mail, courtesy of Somi, who saw it at the grocery. 

"Great showing from the couple of the year," you say, shucking your copy at Joshua. "It looks like we're in Shark Tale." 

Even from a distance, the cheap ink-spackled cover shows more than enough. LIP LOCK FLOP!, it reads, although you wouldn’t really call it a lip lock. 

It was at the derby—Quick, they’re looking at us, you had said. Then what you would call a nun’s version of a kiss: you, already halfway out the door, and him, lips hesitant and pursed, as if he was asked to smooch his withering, dusty great-grandmother. 

"I'm not even going to ask what you mean by that," Joshua answers, voice level. "It's not that bad." 

He puts his book down to pick the magazine up, holding it at a distance like the image will jump out of the page and bite him. You see his expression flicker, and that's all you need to confirm your suspicions. 

"Ok, it's a little bad." He places it on the nightstand next to him face-down. "It'll be alright. It's not like the wedding will be called off over one bad picture." 

"You know that's not the issue." You sit on your side of the bed, about a full meter away from him. You kind of want to look again just to see how bad it is, but you're sure it'll be inescapable by the morning. 

"Since when did you care what the press thought of you?" 

"Since it mattered." You stare at your lap, eyes fixed on the too-new, wiggly hem of your pajamas instead of him. You can tell he's still looking at you, though–you think those big, watery eyes have some sort of flashlights in them, and you don't like it. "It seems wrong if our mistakes take up space." 

You hear him make a small noise of agreement. Joshua still won't admit that you're right, but you suppose you like that a little. At least he'll be stubborn about something, even if it's about clearly not liking you. 

"What do you suggest?" he asks, putting his book down. “We didn't choose each other, so I'm not surprised there's no attraction." 

"Ouch." He's right, but you'd rather be the one saying it. "I'm a good kisser. You aren't." 

"I'm just not good at kissing you," he retorts. 

"Evidently." You shimmy towards his side of the bed, where the sheets are cooler under your thighs, the pillows still neatly arranged on the headboard. "What I'm saying is that we should at least try to look more realistic. Like–" 

"Are you saying we should practice?" Joshua looks at you over the frames of his glasses, incredulous. 

"Yeah," you say, now too far in it to back out. "Like exposure therapy. For unwilling couples." 

The room gets quiet, as if it wasn't unbearably so before. You watch Joshua pick up his book again. He puts the bookmark in, two-thirds from the spine of the book so as to not ruin the binding, and places it over the doomed tabloid. 

"Okay." To your surprise, he turns to face you. The lamplight catches the lens of his glasses and makes his eyes look warmer than they truly are. "How should we do this?" 

The way Joshua's gaze settles on you makes you feel like you're being evaluated. An exam in Kissing 101, except the test would rather not have anything to do with you at all. For the first time in your life, you let your eyes wander to his lips, rosy and full, and you feel the pit of anxiety in your belly grow wider. Somehow he's managed to take all the fun out of one of your favorite activities, but you'll be damned if he walks away from this thinking it's you who's the problem. 

"Just...let me lead," you say quietly, now leaning closer to him. You have to ease yourself into it. You let your body respond, feel the skip of your heart, a heady flush wash over your cheeks. He smells like spearmint and clover. 

You've kissed a lot of people. None of this should feel new to you. His eyelashes skim against your cheek, and you can hear the breath he takes, quivering, gentle.

Despite all this, the first kiss is no better than any of the other ones. his lips meet yours, hesitant before they start moving. He's shy, and it would almost endear him to you if he wasn't so annoying. But then the charade is over. His nose clocks yours and it startles you both enough to draw away, ever so slightly. 

"Not my fault," you murmur. You're so close, you can see your reflection in his pupils, glassy and dark. 

"Thought this was practice," responds Joshua, unfazed. 

So you lean in again, giving it another go. Two is better—sweet and succinct. a first date type of kiss. You can taste the berry of your lip balm on him. 

Then again, except this time it's him who goes in, chases your lips. 

The scary thing is that you thought this would be much harder. You had stood in the bathroom, looked yourself in the mirror, and psyched yourself up to do the impossible. 

But the moment you meet him, now so close there's no room to breathe, you feel an impenetrable, unshakable desire crawling up your bones. Your palm finds the flat of his chest. Even under the silk of his ridiculous pajama top, you feel the heat of his skin, the restless quick of his heartbeat, and your stomach flips. 

Four, five. You're losing count. Joshua's hand trails up your arm to cup your cheek, and you'd be lying if you said you didn't feel your breath catch in your chest. 

He's warm, so warm. When your other hand finds the back of his neck, he makes a small sound in his throat and you like it.

It's at this point you realize there is no point in pretending. Maybe you don't want to kiss Joshua at any other moment during any other day, but you do now. You really do. 

When your tongue meets the seam of his lips, it feels all too natural. At first, predictably, he buffers a bit. For a split second, you envision him pulling away and saying you've gotten more than a lifetime's worth of practice in. 

But he doesn't. Instead, an arm winds around your waist and that's all it takes for your body to stop listening to you altogether. Lips still connected, you lift yourself to straddle his lap, right over the folded up covers, and his hands, devastatingly strong, find your hips to keep you rooted there. 

You're starting to think he isn't such a bad kisser after all—maybe he really was holding out on you, but there's something weirdly rewarding about him waiting until he liked you just a little more. Whatever that means. 

You learn that his hair is soft, really soft, at the base of his neck. You learn that he likes when you bite his lips and you learn that his spearmint mouthwash does, in fact, taste as good as it smells. 

You also learn that you, paradoxically, might not know how to love Joshua Hong, but you sure do know how to kiss him. 

--end of part 1--

[part 2 -> ]