#in other news i am also learning electric guitar now ^_^

[umbrvx]

band au bc ive been listening to pretty much only rock recently 🎸

[flamingo-writes]

A/N: i am back from the dead after months. And it should’ve come as a surprise that I absolutely loved Hobie. Looks like a rockstar and is an absolute punk. My type in a nutshell.

I’m gonna be using some of these headcanon for future

Gal in The Chair — Hobie Brown x Artist!Reader

I think Hobie would be the kind of guy to fall for someone who he’s known for a long while, that being said, you’d perhaps known him all of your life

Having grown together, the two of you shaped a lot of each other’s beliefs. So no wonder the two of you were so compatible.

After the spider bite, you saw the whole journey from Hobie freaking out at first, to him figuring out how to use his new abilities.

He designed his web shooters, being the genius he is with technology. You helped him with his suit, specially his mask.

You became his Gal in the Chair

You liked to fix up and personalise clothes. All of your pieces of clothings came from second hand shops and you gave them a make over doing all sorts of stuff on them to make them unique and yours.

You also did this with a lot of Hobie’s clothes. As well as teaching him how to use your sewing machine.

After graduating high school, you opened a small alternative clothing shop in with unique pieces, doing the same thing you did for your clothes on this one. As well as doing hand made jewerly like bracelets, necklaces and earrings. You also had a talent with plants, managing to almost magically bring plants back to life and reproduce them like crazy, you added selling plants into your small business.

As Spider-Man gained traction, he low key promoted your work to his followers and people who agreed with him. This in order to keep negative attention from falling on you, and keep bad guys from thinking and theorising that maybe you knew Spider-Man.

As a side gig, you educated yourself on coffee making, and learned about the different processes and types of coffee beans there were. It started as a hobby, but soon you also implemented that into your shop.

The fact that you were so versatile, made Hobie feel incredibly proud of you. You seemed to be so independent, and creative and that never ending curiosity and passion made him harvest feelings for you.

Eventually, the close friendship, and companionship grew into affectionate and romantic feelings.

Hobie was always flirty, but it wasn’t until now that you started behaving differently. Normally he played his electric guitar but now you found him playing his acoustic guitar more.

He showed you a song he wrote. And while it was unusual —however, not imposible— to hear a romantic song coming from him, it wasn’t until the first minute that you realised the song was about you.

That’s how he chose to tell you about his feelings.

He didn’t intend for it to be this romantic, he simply one day word vomited the song and used one free afternoon to add the music.

After hearing his song, it was actually you who grabbed him and kissed him.

More than satisfied with the outcome, he kissed you back, put his guitar down and pulled you over his lap.

You two became inseparable since. You already were, but now it was more evident.

You worked at home, doing all the creative things you did, selling them, helping Spider-Man with art shows and gigs.

Those who paid close attention, they were able to determine you were some sort of associate to Spider-Man. However, all of them were also punks and anarchist so of course they kept their mouths shut. Spider-Man was always looking out for those in need. They were going to help a brother back and not tell anyone whenever any authority or weird-looking threat asked if anyone knew Spider-Man, or someone close to him.

You became widely known between Spider-Man supporters, although none of them would ever dare to snitch on you.

After Hobie met Gwen, she brought her over, you two became close friends right away. Letting Gwen crash at your place more often than not. She even offered to help you with the dishes and the groceries as thanks for letting her stay.

“You’re Hobie’s friend, you’re welcome whenever you want,” You’d told her.

Pav was also a frequent visitor. He loved your coffee, he taught you how to make chai. And you had chai ready for whenever Hobie told you Pav was going to be there.

Pav also bought plants from you all the time. Most of them for his mom. He once asked you if you could make a set of earrings and a necklace for his mom.

The set was a success and Pav always told you how much she loved them,

Eventually Miles also came around. And it wasn’t until Miles met you that his suspicions of Hobie and Gwen dating dissappeared.

Miles saw the absolute pure love with which Hobie looked at you. He still made the same sarcastic and cheeky jokes while talking to you. But the way he looked at you was completely different to the way he looked at anyone else.

Hobie convinced Miles to buy a plant and some earrings for his mother.

“Listen mate, this is what my girl does for a living. Plus the world needs to learn to appreciate the handiwork of an artisan,”

Miles was even surprised at how Hobie still looked cool while being mushy and cheesy with you as he hugged you, kissed your head, or played with your hands or hair.

Hobie had zero fucks to give about what people think about him, he doesn’t give a shit about PDA. Gwen thinks it’s gross, Pav thinks it’s adorable, Miles is simply puzzled as to how he is still cool when seeing his parents doing the same thing would make him cringe so hard.

Hobie is amused by the different reactions he gets. Especially Gwen’s grossed out face.

He still loves kissing you every chance he gets. Whether if it’s kissing you passionately. A subtle peck. Sweet kissed on your cheek or your forehead.

[cherry-pop-elf]

I saw you say that you like Raver/Scenecore music, and it has me wondering if you have any thoughts for George and Fred (or even just the rest of the Weasleys too) for what sort of music they'd like?

Ooooo!!! Good ask good ask! I love music so much, and even studying piano right now! My final recital song is even Wizard Wheezes! ((My special interest is Weasleys, what can I say?)) So this is a super amazing and awesome ask! Thank you so much anon! I love love love love music!!!!!

Types Of Music The Weasley Siblings Listen To

William ‘Bill’

Bill is very much a Rock person. You’ll hear him listening to Ghost, Three Day Grace, My Chemical Romance, the classics like that. Just different types of Rock in general. Pop Rock, Rock and Roll, etc. Even go as far as to play an electric guitar. How did he manage to? I mean, magic. Who says you need to plug it in anywhere, when you can just produce magic itself to work it? Loves Alternative Rock Music. Favorite song? Gotta go with a classic like Mary On A Cross

Charlie

Of course he loves punk, and alternative, but he did mellow out a bit when he finally settled into his job. Playing softer music for the new born dragons made him come to love softer songs. Like jazz, country, and folk. So to kinda wrap it all together, he’s a Taylor Swift fan. He’s not a swiftie, but he does enjoy her music. He also loves to play guitar, many kinds, and even knows how to play the flute. Thanks to Hagrid. Playing the guitar, or flute, for the baby dragons is a passion time he wouldn’t trade for anything. Favorite song? 100% Taylor’s ‘No Body No Crime’ for sure

Percy

100% is the type to believe in the Mozart Theory. He listens to classical musics constantly. Such a nerd. Genuinely though, he does enjoy it. It helps him study and focus. So if you were to introduce him to the genre of lofi? He really would like it. Soft wordless music to play in the background, as he works. So he would be such a Stan for The Lofi Girl, if he was to say if he has a favorite anything

Fred And George

Big Band, Jazz, Swing, Techno Swing, they LOVE that high energy bop music. I mean, look at what their literal shops theme song is ((Fun fact, as I am writing this I am ACTUALLY playing Wizard Wheezes on the piano right now, for a recital!)) They gotta love that high energy music. Love it love it love it. Fred and George go nuts for Fully Dressed With Out A Smile. They also will break into Anything You Can Do I Can Do Better if given the chance. They especially loved singing that with Ginny, while growing up

Ron

He was invested in Rock, of course. The side effects of being a younger sibling to a big family, but Hermione helped him explore other interests as well. Helped him be more brave in what he liked. He does love Rock styles, but Pop Rock was more his branch. Pop just has a more fun energy to it. Different from his day to day life. Helps him stand out a little as well, since Bill is more into the alternative/emo/goth aesthetic types or Rock. One Republics ‘Run’ speaks to him a lot. Don’t tell anyone I told you this, but he also really likes Sk8ter Boy. Because it makes him think of Hermione. Shhhhh

Ginny

Musicals. She just can’t pick a genere. Growing up with six brothers gave her a love of different types of music. So if you ask her what she likes, she will say musicals. Musicals have so many types and moods. It’s perfect for whenever you don’t know what to listen do. In a romantic mood? High energy? Even depressive gothic? There’s a musical for it. She’s learned to keep her mind open, and invest in different interests. Her favorite song really depends on the mood she’s in, or vibe. But if you had to twist her arm, it’s gonna be that classic Merry Poppins Step In Time. It reminds her of her brothers, whenever they had to do spring cleaning together. If she’s sad, that song will ALWAYS make her feel better. If not? Clearly a imposter!

Bonus: Belladonna

Fun fact about me! I am currently learning piano! I just love music so much. Piano is also good for me health wise, because I have dexterity issues because of my muscle spasms. I’m practicing a recital song, and it’s Wizard Wheezes. Which I’ll perform as my final. I hope to post it on tumblr in the future. As for music I like? Scene/Ravecore and Techno Swing. I guess I just love high energy songs with electric vibes. Ironic, given I have chronic fatigue. Along with, ya know, trapped in a wheelchair. Slay. Thank you again anon! I love music so much, and I am forever grateful I have hearing to enjoy it. A really great ask!!!

[eleanorandphantom]

Get to know me?

I kinda realized I never really introduced myself, so uh, hi!

My name is Echo :D I am pansexual and genderfluid, as for pronouns, I have no preferences, just don't call me an 'attack helicopter' and we'll be chillin'

I am 16, currently in Junior year, actually really enjoying it right now!

In most of my DR's my name is Eleanor, which is why its my user! I just feel connected to both names

Some non-shifting facts about me:

I have olive-green eyes

I have been singing/playing guitar/acting for around 10 years and I danced for 8 years (still dance for theater and funsies)

I play acoustic, electric, and a little bass

I am in a band as a lead singer and guitarist, we are called "Vessels of Rebirth"!!!

I am an alto-soprano! which is very fun as I can sing very diverse styles of music (my favorites being folk, rock, and gospel)

I am a Christian and follower of God, to whom I love dearly

Although I am a Christian, I do a lot of tarot reading, and I also see and speak with the deceased as well as have prophetic dreams on occasion. I currently have 3 spirits residing in my house, they are quite nice! (Also if you guys have any suggestions on incense please let me know! I need to add to my stash)

I do a ton of art, whether it be sewing, drawing, painting, photography, or making things out of materials, you will always find me with a new project (I'm currently working on a plushie bee for my friend in my Java class!!)

Speaking of java I am loving coding, that shit is cool

At the moment, I am leading in two shows (one is a murder mystery comedy, like clue, where the audience decides who the murderer is! The second is Spamalot, and I am the female lead, Lady of the Lake!!) I am also in the ensemble of Hadestown and doing crew for Little Mermaid! So a ton of theater stuffs going on (would you believe me if I told you I have 6 different theater-based DR's?? teehee)

I do a ton of reading, I love books; it's one of my dreams to have a Hobbit-inspired book room in my future house, complete with a circle door

I have a massive collection of plushies and stuffed animals, all of which I have named and remember perfectly (I love them sm)

My favorite colors are: forest/emerald green, sunset orange, TEAL!!!, deep purples, navy blue, maroon, pastel yellow, and blue/ashy grey

I am very Portuguese, and I love Portuguese food, my favorite being Bifanas

I have two pets, a 7 year old golden retriever named Ridge and an 11 month old ragdoll cat named Dexter (short for Dexteria, yes I am a DnD nerd)

Speaking of DnD, I am currently DM'ing three campaigns, and I'm in around 10-15 other campaigns, I love DnD a lot, it's one of my favorite hobbies

Onto shifting related stuff!

I have been shifting(minishifting partially, still shifting though!!!) since I was around 8 I guess? I didn't realize that was what I was doing at the time, and around 2021 I found out about shifting through a classmate (who brought it up at the most random time possible, an ELA class lol)

The first actual DR I ever made was a My Hero Academia reality, and by birds all mighty that script was ROUGH

But I still hold it close to my heart, even though it was so cringy

I took a break from shifting for like 7 months to a year at most, I believed in it, I just felt more content in my CR, but now I am at a point where I want to explore and be fully happy and learn and grow as myself!

Here is a list of my main DR's!

MPHFPC

Waiting Room

Phantom of the Opera

DnD homebrew (x3)

Better CR

Ever After High DR (x2)

Theater related (x6)

Apartment DR (x2)

Big Bang Theory

ASOUE

College DR (Harvard obviously)

Mad Scientist DR (before you ask, it's a book I'm writing, and No I am not the mad scientist)

Hogwarts (Not my favorite, but definitely for the vibes, witch-craft and ooo riding brooms is super fun! I kinda stay away from the main characters to the best of my ability, besides George tho, that man has my heart)

Those are my most recent ones, they all have their little quirks and loveliness that make them unique to me, if you have any questions about them I would be happy to answer!

I mainly post about my MPHFPC DR and more recently my Waiting Room, since they are the two realities I go to

I hope you guys enjoyed and got to know me a bit better, my asks/comments are always open so feel free to stop in and say ahoy!

Bye-bye for now :D

[serpentine-saboteur]

"Oh, welcome back."

Hello hello!! My name is Bee, and I am the operator/mun of this blog! I use any neopronouns, this includes many varieties of pronouns, but you can use it/its or nacht/nachts mainly! I will state this at a forefront: basic criteria will be used here, use your common sense. And, the views of Sebastian do not reflect my own. I am separate from the character I play.

A thing of importance! If you are followed by an account by the name of "bees-among-the-okami", that is me! It is my main/personal, as this account is a sideblog. Below the "Read More" are my rules and the shorter description of my version of Sebastian!

RULES

I only really roleplay with those that I have as mutuals, just to be sure of equal interest on both ends. As well as, I do not rush rps, in both aspects of the word. I will not race through relationships, nor will I rush you! I would appreciate not being rushed either!

As an addendum to this, it may take me a while to reply to rps, my motivation comes and goes, as is the horrors of AuDHD. But I will try my best to keep in contact!

A second addendum to this are asks! I am down to roleplay responses to asks, though I will only create "threads" with mutuals branching from said ask!

This goes as well for "password locked" roleplay blogs, I will only send the password if we are mutuals!

As I follow from a personal blog, I will not block those on the other end! Personals are also allowed to send asks! I will not create threads with personals, though. We need to talk first beforehand! My DMs are open!!

Minors are NOT ALLOWED on the blog. I am 19, and though nothing will tread into sexual territory here, it's mainly for ease-of-mind for me.

If anything comes up, there will be rules added! Thank you for reading.

Please send a "🐟" in DMs or in your first Ask so I know that you've read these!

CHARACTER

Sebastian Solace is a male leviathan-esque creature created by Urbanshade, directing the experiment on him to the Hadal Blacksite. Before he was twisted into his new, serpentine form, Sebastian used to be human, 19 years of age and attending college for a major in engineering and a minor in music. He used to have passions, a love for electric guitar, for creating, for his family.

That's what he used to be. A person. An individual with humanity. Now it's been ripped away from him.

Slinking among the shadows of the Blacksite is how he travels, gathering data and supplies in exchange for the former. He's sharp and bitter, having learned that vulnerability is like sticking your neck out for the guillotine. And if he has to become cold to protect himself? Fine.

The scientists call him Z-13, The Saboteur... but he'd much rather his own name.

(My iteration of Sebastian is much more creature-like, as per the DNA he was experimented with as such! <- is crazy about speculative biology <3]

(Information on him is located in my promo: here!)

[7vyntheefaerie]

hiii yawll, my name is vynée and you may call me that or [s]vyn. i am open to being gifted names too 🪷 [edited last 3/27/2024.,will upd8 as needed]

planting some roots/groundwork:

politik:

• men + minors (ageless bio 2 🙄) automatically blocked. DNI !

• this blog will occasionally b nsft so pls follow + interact with discernment

• i am a [mean] disabled black transmasc femme lesbian & would love to b in community with other black & poc t4t lesbians! i do not mind interacting with and befriending yt lesbians but please watch the way you handle me and other black lesbians, thx 😆

• i do not tolerate anti-blackness, racism, lesbophobia, biphobia, transphobia, ableism, or zionists. i stand with palestine 🇵🇸 and do not tolerate bigotry flimsily informed by colonialism, imperialism, capitalism, anti-blackness, anti-indigeneity, or yt supremacy. & if you’re apolitical do not interact w me. immediate block 4 all these.

•terfs, swerfs, other radfems, political lesbians, bioessentialists & transmeds stay thee fuck away from me 😁 immediate block 4 all these.

• i don’t identify with the run of the mill, mainstream feminism. i am a black transfeminist genderfuk’d scholar and would put my life on the line for black transfems whose light is stolen by transmisogynoir. they are the center of my theory & praxis.

• dms & asks open, feel free 2 use them i want more 1:1 interactions on this app! ok 2 flirt as well but please b @ least 20.

interests:

• astrohorr!!!! (astrology) + super spiritual

• i am very into music production and interested in learning how 2 dj! i play electric guitar and sing

• i am a performer, so far a [hyperfem] drag performer and a poet. i am a self taught dancer and have experience with constructing choreography. also p into makeup, fashion, scents, accessories + jewelry etc

• k!nkster, i am a sensualist + bratty switch that has been posting lite nsft content. there’s more, in terms of k!nk, but we can discuss more privately if ur interested in me/that 🤭

• i am a writer of songs, poetry, prose, and short stories

• i enjoy film & tv, specifically films from the queer new wave era and tv such as the wire, the oa, the leftovers, from, and i am a virgo. also an anime enjoyer but not a weeboo.

• genre wise (4 all media) i am a horr 4 horror, scifi, fantasy, and psychological thrillers.

• gender studies scholar so queer theory is nvr off my brain esp in terms of black queer cultural prod

that’s all i can think of 4 now! i preciate u reading if you made it this far 🪼

with care,

[s]vyn

[kaynon]

Firstly, when you get this, you have to answer with 5 things you like about yourself, publicly. Then, send this ask to 10 of your favorite followers (non-negotiable, positivity is cool) 💗

It's kind of funny I get this today, cuz I've just turned 20 and I'm genuinely proud of myself for making it another year and in a general upswing at that. Thank you for sending me this ask :)

1) I'm a good person, this is important to me because whenever I'm having bad anxiety/depression my brain tries to convince me otherwise (even though it's not true). There was this time I was in New Orleans with my Dad & youngest brother, we were going to Audubon Aquarium but I wanted to bring a sketchbook so we went to a Walmart. Except I had routed us to a Walmart in a dangerous part of town so my Dad wanted to get in and out as quickly as possible. We were rushing past this older man and his kid/grandkid who was in one of the electric carts and I didn't want to cut right in front of him (like my Dad had just done) and also didn't want to lose my Dad (it was very busy) so I cut to the other side and accidentally knocked some clothes over. I felt really embarrassed to have to now hold the man up but I apologized to him and hung the clothes back up. He ended up getting in line behind my Dad and was like 'you've raised really good kids' and talked to him about how my youngest brother has said excuse me when darting in front of him with my Dad and how I had cleaned up after myself and he doesn't always see that with other kids. I swear not every bullet point will be this long, but this is a good reminder for myself so, yeah, good person

2) seeing as this is going up on my art blog, it might be weird to not mention that I like how creative I am! I have tried a bunch of different art things, am a video editor, a writer, I enjoy photography and am not half bad at design, I will learn the bass guitar someday (I've been learning it for four years now :), and so on. Being creative is one of my favorite things to do and be

3) if I care about you then I will do what I can to help and be there. This was kind of instilled in me by family, as they say 'no matter what you've done we will try to help,' or what I hear more often is 'just give us a call if you need anything' but I know it's true for me too. When I was living with my Dad I wasn't allowed to have people over if he wasn't home but there was a time when my best friend had messaged her group chat that she needed someone and was worried about being alone and immediately I told her she could come to my house and she did and I comforted her until she felt better. And my Dad never found out but I wouldn't feel bad if he ever did because I was just doing what I could for a friend

4) speaking of I'm also very protective of the people I care about, I've got a lot of brothers and friends I worry about. This can be a bad thing sometimes cuz it also means I tend towards suspicion at times, but I still like it about myself.

5) I think I make people feel invited and involved. I pay attention when someone is talking and try not to let others talk over them. I'll invite people to go to things with me (when I am going to things anyways). Even when I don't know a person super well or don't necessarily like them I try to make them feel welcome cuz I don't want anyone to feel ignored around me

I don't know that I have 10 followers! But I'll find people to send this to, thank you again for sending it to me :D

[nightmare-dreamt]

HELLO!! I am now here to request my now 2nd matchup for MHA, Love is war and The promised neverland (also TPN can be platonic since I’m 14 but the two can be romantic lololol) ALSO FEEL FREE TO USE MY OTHER LINK SINCE IM EXPLAINING THE SAME THING

Well my name is Joey, im transgender aromatic bisexual and unlabeled, my zodiac is Aquarius and my others are Leo, Sagittarius and Aries, i have adhdism and I’m a very cool person 😎🔥/hj

My personality is that I’m a ENTP and I’m Extroverted but usually I am very awkward at first and it will take me time to adjust to a new person for a while 4-9 months precisely and then I can emote freely around them, but I still love to ramble about my interests to them when I’m getting used to being around that person, my love languages are acts of service, gift giving, quality time and psychical affection and my dates would be like going out and like going to a arcade or seeing a movie and go out to dinner somewhere afterwards but I’m totally up to just stay home and play video games and have movie marathons then…! Oh fun fact I also

I’m 5’6, I have brown eyes, and I (now) have brown boyish hair with bangs and I’m absolutely in love with it—!, and as I said before I wear a lot of styles! such as goth(trad goth, romantic goth, mall goth and nu goth), gyaru (hime gal, himekaji, agejo, rokku, manba, kogal and tsuyome), scenemo/emo, and vkei ouji and lolita but I usually don’t wear these to school or at home the whole time, yes I wear it to show off on social media or when I’m going out but I’m pretty casual too, i wear oversized stuff like baggy pants, i wear streetwear stuff and I also like wearing comfy stuff at home like a anime t-shirt and jeans or pj pants lol

Hobbies/Interests: anime/manga, gaming, cosplaying, fashion, art(drawing, painting, pottery, digital art and more), cooking, learning new languages (such as Japanese and Spanish), writing, making/listening to music, dancing, skateboarding, playing Interments like piano/electric guitar and more on. Feel free to ask!

Likes: cats, hajime hinata (danganronpa), a silent voice, albedo (genshin impact), lemon demon, felix kranken (twf), bread, sharks, christmas music/christmas in general, scp 3008 (roblox game), get a snack at 4am (roblox game), hotels, and my friends!

Dislikes: negative mentions of my voice, comparing me to people like “you remind me of ____”, hate talk about my interests, and spiders.

THANK YOUUU

Matchup For Joey!

Mha: Neito Monoma

Affection was strange to him, he seems like the type of person to have grown up without much love or affection so when he got into a relationship, it was all new and unfamiliar to him. When the two of you began holding hands and becoming more of a couple, he would complain, but it would be less than usual and he would have a bright blush on his face.

Arcade/movie dates are his favorite, but he won't admit anything preferring to stick to his cool nature and act like everything is stupid and dumb. When at the movies, he'll talk about how the movie is so boring and how the film is overrated, that is till the end when he remains silent needing to see the end of the movie. Similar to arcades, when the two of you are playing games and he loses, he'll be in a bad mood, saying things about how he let you win and that if you were to lose he would feel guilty.

Love is War: Chika Fujiwara

Showing your love for her with acts of service/gifts and it's her favorite thing when receiving something from her partner. When she received her first gift it was adorable, seeing the cute gift on her desk all wrapped up neatly and perfect, just for her. Between us, she definitely fell for you from the gifts, rizz her up with them acts of service and she was whipped.

For some reason when I read that you liked cosplaying, my mind drifted to her also enjoying cosplaying and wanting to dress up as her favorite characters. There would be couples cosplaying between the two of you and it would be adorable as heck.

The Promise Neverland: Emma

You guys have very similar personalities, both being outgoing and caring towards your friends, always keeping them close. You guys are also extremely smart and are very good thinkers having very similar ideas or you guys are usually the one who has that great idea that ends up being right. (I got this from Entp, if this is wrong I am sorry)

Enjoy when you ramble about your interests, there have been times when Emma has sat there listening to everything you have said without saying a single word just enjoying the conversation. Emma is a great listener, but also a great talker knowing what to say and how to say it. She also has a good memory, being able to remember something you have said from a while back without having to struggle.

Cooking together is something she takes pride in, loving being around her friends and doing things the two of them can enjoy together. You guys make all sorts of things for the little kids who always end up falling in love with the food you two make.

[wuahae]

haaaiiii im back :3 Ready to get stuffed!

(He hugs Jihoon, too, since you all practically grew up together. Is that your gun, or are you just happy to see me? Jeonghan jokes. Jihoon’s reply: It’s my gun. It’s always my gun.) 

HE IS SOOOOSDFMSDFMSDFLDFK

Here, the streets are lined with dense cherry plum trees, wine-stained and fragrant. They frame driftwood-paneled shop windows housing kitschy art galleries, mom-and-pop bakeries, and patioed bistros with striped awnings. 

unfortunately you know my struggle with descriptions intimately well so as per course i Will always give you your flowers when you just casually cook up imagery like this... your brain is so big.. imagination so wide.

“I was busy, cricket.” He holds up a copy of Complete Advanced Piano Solos and wrinkles his nose. He's hoping you’d laugh with him about it, but you’ve already moved on, now fixated on the shining columns of electric guitars. “I wanted to ask about, you know, all the new stuff going on.” 

this makes me sooo like. clutches throat. like the love is so clearly there but there is just so many things in the past and in between and in the future that neither of you know how to navigate the new relationship... jeonghan who just wants his little sister back and yn who just wants her big brother to be the way he Used to but neither of you are the same version of yourselves that you miss... ohhh......

The arranged marriage I'm doing for you? I split my heart open for you, and that’s the thanks I get? 

ouu....... well its true .!

Yesterday, though, as you were winding down for bed, Joshua had come out of the shower, damp white tee and all. A sorry, unspeakable part of you willed you to posit—Hey, maybe we need a refresher? You couldn’t even get halfway through your sentence. Hell, his glasses even came off.

B-B-B-B-BUSINESS PROPOSAL?!?!?!?!!

A hesitant A major chord, then G major, offkey. Hm, he hums aloud. Then you notice his phone propped on a pillow, a Youtube tutorial rumbling in the background. He tries the G major again. Better, he says, pumping a fist into the tired air. 

OHHHHHH MY GOD............. i need him bad........ also the subtle changing.. Yeah. also the fact that you bought the guitar for him is so fucking cute like. UGHHHH they're learning to love each other.

“Have you ever been in love before?” 

josh initiating the heart-to-heart...

There is an impossible hollowness inside you. You imagine Joshua, twenty-one and bright-eyed at Cambridge, hiding beneath the arch of the cobblestone bridge, the long one behind the quad, to carve hearts into the limestone. There's a girl wrapped in his jacket, her laughter like bells. She draws him close, runs a delicate hand through his hair, a shorter cut, more sporty than it is now. The night is still just as kind, forgiving, as it is now, and the moon still round like a young pearl.  / “Because it would mean that it didn’t end in vain. That it wasn’t really my fault.” 

FUCK.......... fuck...... joshua......... also just to talk about this scene Here i just. really like this scene. like ik i said the piano scene is my fav but This scene is honestly tied as my fav i think you perfected the quaintness and like. fond somberness. so well. the quiet speech, the long silences filled by narration, short sentences that almost seem like they're overstepping but theyre Not.. not when they're being said into the open quiet air like this. not when theyre being said to each other... FUCK!!! i Am a visual reader you know this and when i tell you i can picture this scene perfectly in my head. i think i said this before in my First review but you really have a way of forming sentences that make my brain chew on the cadence... very satisfying. i love this scene a lot. i love josh and yn a lot.

It’s getting cold, the twilight breeze now coming in from the sea. A silence, now sticky, caustic, settles between the two of you. The thought of Joshua, hopelessly in love, a line you hadn’t even dared to cross, seems to wind itself deep into your neurons. 

like this is so good... winds itself deep into your neurons...... dawg you are winding THIS into my neurons. also idk. i like how it paints a softer image of joshua that yn would never have imagined before,,, i love when onions peel back more layers!! also the kiss that undos all the other ones. like its the first time because it is.. the first time they mean it. 😭😭😭😭😭😭

Kinda, you had replied noncommittally. All Jeonghan did lately was start his sentences with remember, like he wanted you to forget who he was now.

MAN. MAN!!!! they just make me soooo sad and tender i love sibling duos so bad...

Like all of your great ideas, it began in the back of a car. 

PLAY THROAT GOAT BY KIM PETRAS HELL YEAH

Now things are more confusing than late-stage Grey’s Anatomy, but good luck explaining that over the phone.

HELPWMEMSFDLKDFSFD

Under the cornflower sky of a near-autumn, the forest seems endless. A flock of geese split the sky in two; a warm breeze haunts the canopy, scattering the afternoon light. The dirt under you is soft, peaty from the morning rain. The hoofbeats are silent today.  Jeonghan’s horse slows so that you ride side-by-side. 

leaning back in my rocking chair with a cup of tea in my hand and a throw blanket over my lap... how nice...

“Maybe,” he chuckles. “But the rest—definitely my fault. I made myself busy because I felt like I had to.”  You’re growing to really hate that word. Jeonghan had to grow up, Joshua had to break up with his first love, you had to learn to pick up all the pieces of both of these things and try to fit them back into your life.  “You didn’t even look back.”  “I was scared, cricket. That if I kept looking back, I wouldn't be able to go forward. And I didn’t want to leave you behind, but I did. I think there was a happy middle somewhere, I just couldn’t find it.” 

reading this section with a perpetual ☹️ look on my face... whyyy do i feel like crying MSDFMSDFLKS they make me so tender... siblings can just be so personal. i didn't want to leave you behind but i did... but he's staying for good now. he missed home (you) too much. FUCK! 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 also its like therapy for yn idk.. to not be cast aside, to not be forgotten, to be Seen again... man....

“I think the only dancing I know how to do is half drunk in the dark. Can’t exactly throw it back on you in front of God and country.”  Joshua grins, a big one, and you, traitorously, feel your cheeks get prickly.  “I wouldn't want God looking at you like that,” he teases.  “And country’s already seen it all.”  “They should consider themselves very lucky, then.” His eyes meet yours, lit by the scattered light of the chandelier. “It's my turn to ask you to let me lead.” 

he is just SO charming... also things falling into place when you kiss him again. BABY YOU'RE IN LOOOVEEEE

 “I’m sorry, but this is how I feel. I won't let you take another girl I love from me. Not again.” 

SHOCKED PIKACHU..... the devastating L word....

Saying it is like getting peeled back, terrible layer by layer, like you wrapped a hand around your heart and ripped it out your chest. And yet you’re glowing, newly-bitten with something that feels like freedom.   “I thought you said I was perfect,” Joshua says, the pink of his lips already unraveling into a smile. This one, you think, finally reaches his eyes.  “Shush, you—” And amongst a chorus of Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! (which would be, quite frankly, humiliating in any other scenario), you finally give in to your adoring public, and kiss. 

HUUUUUUUU THEYRE SOOOOO CUTE.... YN FREEDOM!!!!!!!!!! i love to see my yns happy i really do... the smile finally reaching josh's eyes too oh my god... YOUR HONOR THEYRE IN LOVE 😭😭😭😭😭😭

“When I first saw you, I knew I would marry you,” he starts. That's a joke he’s probably been saving for months now, but instead of rolling your eyes, you can’t help but laugh, like you’re a broken soundboard. “No, really.” 

GOD HES SO LAAAMEEEMDFSJLSDFKM

He produces a small box. It’s different from the first one, the one he used all those months ago when nothing mattered. Inside it, a new ring, something far simpler and more beautiful. Joshua says your name, wonderful and reverent in his mouth. “Darling princess of Cotria, I'm asking you to marry me. Again.”  And you say yes, for the very first time.

a simpler ring this time.. one that suits you so much better than the glitz and glam of the last one.. something even more beautiful because its Him and its You, actually this time. FUCK!!!!! YOU SAY YES FOR THE VERY FIRST TIME............ OH MY GOD.

ok concluding thoughts. i'm trying to sort my thoughts out cause they're all in a jumble rn but What good writing. What splendid fic. i'm sure this has been said a million times over but i will keep saying it a billion times more but your writing is so Real to me! i feel like everything you put on (metaphorical) paper always adds Something to the fic, whether that be a hidden meaning or atmosphere or just being the Funniest person alive but its always such a treat to read your fic and i will always mean that !! onto thoughts about hte actual fic... i do love paralleling mcs you know this but i love how the entire fic is so centered around yn and like. how she learns to be #Herself, not just someone her parents want or someone her parents Don't want... the plotline with jeonghan is SO good like i think it adds so much to her character arc and personalizes her to the reader so much... like i feel like she's just perpetually hurt the majority of the fic and just hides it well and i don't think you could have gotten that across as well if you didn't have jeonghan in the fic! like genuinely his sections were some of my favorites to read just because of the history between them. tfw u haunt the narrative and ur not even dead...

also JOSHHHHH........ i love how you make him insufferable and lame at the same time HAHAHA the scene with him talking about his first love and how it ended.. how he doesn't want everything to be in vain... GUN to my mouth i started dry heaving... idk i think you made him so raw in the best ways and just so Relatable like he felt so real to me . but to be fair All the characters feel so real to me but i think that is just a testament to how wonderful and solid of a writer you are :]

side mention to jihoon. love him bad. the side characters added so much to the humor to the fic tbh like the worldbuilding was immaculate it felt like acros and cotria were real places. or at least as real as they can get as fake vaguely european nations in romcoms can get HAHAHA i love how they have their own distinct characteristics and how yn and joshua are clearly Products of that environment... Yeah!

also i really like the themes of this fic like maybe it hits home for me but like. the notion that growing up and Duty doesn't always have to be bad... duty is what you make of it! jeonghan who doesn't go sneaking out to trashy parties anymore and learns golf even though he hates it golf and doesn't complain about his sweaty hands or sleeping on airplanes but Also the jeonghan that likes meeting people and travelling and Helping people; josh who still lost his first love but still manages to find another in you, who chooses You again even after he doesn't need to anymore, who learns to play guitar over piano after all this time; and you, who doesn't really go out to parties and advertise yourself as the resident party princess anymore but you find yourself still in acros, in love, a ring on your finger that is simpler, cleaner, more suitable, more beautiful than the one that was chosen for you at first, and you find yourself Choosing josh too... duty and responsibility and even though it isn't what you would have wanted at first, finding the joy in the little things too... finding the things you can choose for yourself .

im genuinely soooo honored to have been here since the beginning and to see it through all the rough drafts and edits and silly text messages about you crashing out... a special thank you for you moving to gdocs for me HDSFJLFSDK and again i'm sorry i took so long and i told you this but im very scared this review is #Lackluster and unfunny and is me just. Repeating things you typed back at you HELP like i Swear i had very Real and Insightful things to say the first time i read this but then i think as the months went on my brain deteriorated and here i am... i wish i could articulate all the ways this fic is so good and scratches the itch in my brain but do NAWTTT take my smoothing brain as an indication that this fic was anything but extraordinary im so serious... you continue to blow yourself out of the water every time Thank you for trusting me to brainstorm and beta for you!!!! it is always my pleasure to get the #lilyexclusive I LOVE YOU 🫵 LILY HUSBANDHOSHI! (joshi? we'll see when april rolls around again...)

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. [read part 1 here!] (please)

You decide June looks good on Acros. Unlike in Cotria, now sure to be perspiring with tourists, the downtown here is comfortable, inviting, even. At home, you’d be shoulder-to-shoulder with three other people right now. 

This is one of the things you like about this country: it seems to be intentionally idyllic. It’s becoming more clear to you that Joshua’s parents weren’t actually in need of anything from you other than a status boost. You suppose they’re learning the hard way what exactly that comes with.

Jeonghan’s car, or rather, the car Jeonghan happens to be in (he couldn’t drive his way out of a paper bag, try as he might), pulls up to the curb. He’s fresh off a stint of good press, meaning months of speeches, ribbon cutting, and run-ins with parliament and journalists and business moguls all vying for a bite of a future king. You’d add yourself to that list, but you know you’re at the back of the line—you practically live there now, but you’re not sure if things could have happened any other way. 

You watch him step out of the van, never windblown even though he likely just got off a flight. Always with a smile, too, one tired but recognizable, so different from the plasticky ones he wears on TV. 

The first thing he does when he gets out is throw his arms open for a bear hug. “Hey, cricket,” he says, voice wrought with jet-lag. “Missed you.” 

“Glad you had time for one more stop,” you murmur, squeezed into the million-thread count of his shirt. 

“I always have time for you,” he replies, which is decidedly untrue, but you don’t have it in you to say that. All you do lately is get into arguments, and you’re not looking to add your brother to your hit list. 

(He hugs Jihoon, too, since you all practically grew up together. Is that your gun, or are you just happy to see me? Jeonghan jokes. Jihoon’s reply: It’s my gun. It’s always my gun.) 

The second thing he does is push the brim of your baseball cap down.

“The paps,” he warns, as if they were the boogeyman.  

“If they can’t recognize us, they need to get better at their job.” Jeonghan rolls his eyes. “For God’s sake, Jeonghan, we’re all wearing matching hats.” 

No, you are not kidding. Jeonghan, blue, you, red, and Jihoon, green, a la The Powerpuff Girls, which was a joke you made about six years ago and could not let go of. 

“Whatever,” he laughs. “Aren’t you supposed to be showing me around? This is your domain now.” 

“Don’t get excited. I just got here.” 

“What do you need to go shopping for, anyway?” he asks, now walking side-by-side with you. 

“I ask that question every day,” Jihoon replies, glancing at Jeonghan as if to say Women, right?, save for the fact that the both of them have exactly zero game. 

“Somi’s birthday!” you exclaim, two ticks too loudly. “Stuff, I dunno. Just trying to get used to this place.” 

“This isn’t exactly Rodeo Drive, you know.” 

That, Jeonghan is right about. You’re sure there must be a shopping district somewhere in Acros, but definitely not here. Here, the streets are lined with dense cherry plum trees, wine-stained and fragrant. They frame driftwood-paneled shop windows housing kitschy art galleries, mom-and-pop bakeries, and patioed bistros with striped awnings. 

An elderly couple passes you. They smile and wave, visible even under the shade of their parasol, either blissfully unaware of your status or too wise to care. 

“I know,” you waver. “Whatever. I'll just get Yunjin to find me something for the party.” 

Your eye wanders to the jaunty facade of a music store. The sign flaunts handmade, cursive letters with a curly treble clef in the lacquer of old paint. In Cotria, the same sign would be neon, Hollywood-esque, vain. 

“Party?” 

“Let's go there,” you interrupt, hoping to run your big mouth over with some more talking. Of course Jeonghan wouldn’t be cool with any party, nonetheless the one Somi was planning on throwing, but, either by habit or wishful thinking, the news just tumbled right out of you. 

“Party?” Jeonghan repeats. He trails close after you, hoping to grab the door before you can. Such is what he had been taught, after all, which came more naturally than navigating big-brotherhood. “Jihoon?”

Jihoon shrugs, and opens the door before the both of you get there. You’ve trained him well. 

“It’s a small thing,” you tell him. “Close friends only.” It’s not technically a lie—small is relative, and it’s not your fault Somi has two hundred-some close friends.

Inside, you notice the shop is bigger than it looks from the outside. In the front, their nicest pianos: the glossy Yamahas, the baby grands. a lone drum set, on sale, the hi-hat sparkling under the LED lights. And finally, guitars hung from the wall like posters, some lime green and child-sized, others sanded down so the mahogany glows. 

“You already know what I’m going to say,” Jeonghan says, the lilt of his voice verging on not-so-casual. 

“Then don’t say it,” you reply flatly. “You went to those parties too, by the way.” 

“Used to, but—” Jeonghan sighs because he’s beat, and he knows it. 

You absentmindedly flip through a book of sheet music—Alfred's Essentials of Music Theory. behind it, 40 Taylor Swift Songs for Piano. 

“You’ve been good, I hope?” you cut in. “Not too tired?” 

“No,” Jeonghan says.  “I've been great. You?” 

You can’t read his expression. Old Jeonghan would tell you that he’s ready for a nap, that he hates sleeping on airplanes, that his hands still get sweaty when he gets in front of a crowd and the camera flash hurts his eyes. New Jeonghan never complains, either because of some drastic change in his character or because he feels like he can no longer complain to you. Both hurt your feelings in equal measures.

“I called, you know.” 

“I was busy, cricket.” He holds up a copy of Complete Advanced Piano Solos and wrinkles his nose. He's hoping you’d laugh with him about it, but you’ve already moved on, now fixated on the shining columns of electric guitars. “I wanted to ask about, you know, all the new stuff going on.” 

“You mean my arranged marriage?” The words feel stiff in your mouth. 

The arranged marriage I'm doing for you? I split my heart open for you, and that’s the thanks I get? 

You avoid Jihoon’s tentative glare to look at your noodled reflection in the polish of a red Fender. You think of Joshua, of a corny rendition of Here Comes The Sun and a pick between his teeth, cradling a guitar held by a linty, ten dollar strap. 

Then you think of what he said on that piano bench—that somehow he could have prevented this. Actually, this might have been all your fault. One too many shots, and you ended up setting feminism back five centuries. 

“Y-yeah.” You watch Jeonghan’s silhouette appear behind yours. “Has it been okay, at least?” 

Okay is a complicated word to use. It’s hard to say, even for you. 

It would certainly be TMI to tell Jeonghan that you’ve been kissing a lot more often. First it was under the flimsy guise of practice—We have to be ready for our dinner tomorrow, Joshua had said, to which you readily agreed. You couldn’t be the unwilling victim of another headline like KISS OR MISS! It would be terrible for your ego, even more so than your public image. 

Yesterday, though, as you were winding down for bed, Joshua had come out of the shower, damp white tee and all. A sorry, unspeakable part of you willed you to posit—Hey, maybe we need a refresher? You couldn’t even get halfway through your sentence. Hell, his glasses even came off.

You really only liked each other past 9 PM—you still couldn’t quite manage to get through a conversation like normal people. At this point, you had a 50/50 split in terms of who would cast the first terrible stone of petty disagreement. The only thing we have going for us is a dubious physical attraction, seemed like way more of a mouthful than okay, though. 

“Yeah, it’s been okay.” You look around. There's a decent amount of mediocre acoustic guitars on the back wall, more than enough to scratch the itch of someone too afraid to defile something more honorable. “Hey, don’t wait up for me. I think i might buy something.” 

—

[august 10, 2:57 pm; a dress fitting. 

In the ten-foot mirror of the boutique dressing room, you watch Yunjin yank the ties of your corset into a punishing knot. Your mother watches behind you, perched on the chaise. 

“Regal and radiant,” she reads aloud, the shiny cover of a magazine between her hands. “Finally, some good news.” 

“About you and Joshua?” Yunjin asks. 

“Ye–ow!” you wince. “Yeah. We went out to dinner yesterday.” 

The dinner: an exhausting, stuffy affair at an Italian restaurant with two Michelin stars. You came in a nice dress, Joshua in slacks and his best button-up. Smile, wave, a kiss on the cheek. You fed him a spoonful of dessert, a stiff, too-sweet panna cotta. It was either raspberry or strawberry—you were too distracted to really notice. Instead, you’d been practicing the steps, the motions of a true love. 

Should we hold hands over the table? Joshua had asked. 

I don't think we have to. Your hand had curled over the napkin on your lap, as if the thought of his touch physically stung. 

“This is a nice color,” your mother interrupts. She pinches the fabric of the skirt up at your waist, watching the way it bunches over your hips. “It's suitable.” 

Suitable. Right. The dress for your engagement ball, suitable. Just like you, newly suited for the engagement. 

You watch your image in the mirror. It’s taller, more regal, likely the product of Yunjin squeezing all the air out of you, Or worse, the penetrating gaze of your mother over the top of the tabloid.

You blink hard; you waver. ]

[august 20, 10:13 pm; a quiet return to acros after a day at the beach with somi and soonyoung. 

The castle sleeps, warm under the soft glow of candlelight on marble. You pad through the halls, carefully, as to avoid waking the entire country with the thwacks of your still-wet sandals. Hopefully Joshua is sleeping. He'd certainly ask questions, either about if bikini tops really need all that padding or what the SPF of your sunscreen was. 

You approach your room, where the lamplight from the cracked door oozes into the hallway. There's a determined rustling noise coming from the interior. Incriminating. Holding your breath, you cast a long glance into the thin slice of bedroom you can see from where you’re standing. 

There sits Joshua, cross-legged on the bed. Between his legs, the guitar you bought him. It must have finally shipped. He’s tied the gift ribbon it came with to the guitar strap, a woven linen with an offensively bright jacquard pattern. 

A hesitant A major chord, then G major, offkey. Hm, he hums aloud. Then you notice his phone propped on a pillow, a Youtube tutorial rumbling in the background. He tries the G major again. Better, he says, pumping a fist into the tired air. 

God, what a dork, you think. But you don’t walk away.] 

– 

From the garden, the Acrosian moon renders the city blue, like ink from a spilled well. 

It’s quiet out here, you notice. The forest spills into the sky, and the scent of roses lies heavy on your skin. You’re seated on the bench beneath the sculpted gazebo, a worthy centerpiece, and you revel in the coolness of the granite, the bated still of the air. You like this garden better than the one at home, although it’s entirely possible that you’ve been conditioned into hating all topiaries, no thanks to your parents. 

It's only when you hear the quiet click of footsteps behind you that you realize you’ve lost track of how long you’ve been outside. You’re now able to tell them apart–these, Joshua’s, steady and purposeful, sound like they have a heartbeat. 

You don’t turn around to greet him. “So you finally had enough, huh?” you ask instead, sliding to the left so he can sit beside you. 

“How'd you know?” he chuckles. 

“I'd like to think I know at least a little about you.” 

“I appreciate it,” is his reply, surprisingly warm.

Just a few hours earlier, your parents had come to visit. They cooed and giggled and connived alongside Joshua’s parents before launching into a very long, very serious discussion about your engagement ball. You’ve learned not to sweat the small stuff, the small stuff being the color of the napkins, the members of the string quartet, the hors d'oeuvres. But then it got weird: the symbolism of the color of your nail polish, which journalists were allowed to watch you make out, when and how Jeonghan was supposed to announce his presence during all of this. 

Then things got critical, which really sucked. No one was safe this time, not even Joshua. You lasted about an hour, Joshua about forty-five minutes more. You wonder what his breaking point was. Maybe it was his mother finally telling him off for having more than three buttons undone whenever he wore a dress shirt. 

In the silence, you feel an inexplicable peace. Maybe this is the only time you can get along; underneath the same moon, the same stars, the divide doesn’t feel quite as wide. You let your mind clear, first, past the fog of Somi’s birthday bash, glittery and blinding in your mind’s eye, past Jeonghan’s tired shoulders in the music store, past all the magazine covers and photo ops. The heavy reality feels heavier in your stomach, but you’re no longer as scared, although resignation looks like acceptance when you whittle it close enough to the bone. 

“Have you ever been in love before?” 

Joshua’s voice is so low, it takes you by surprise. You look to your side and see his eyes, shaded by the long curl of his lashes, trained on the sky, his expression unreadable. There’s a piercing sincerity to it, one you haven’t seen before. 

“No,” you reply, the answer coming to you faster than any regret ever could. “How could i?” 

“So all the boyfriends before, just…?” he trails off. He's referencing the magazines, all the covers with full size photos of you and the model of the month holding hands by the riviera, sharing a martini, kissing outside a nightclub. There are too many to remember, but you’re surprised he’s aware of any at all. 

“It was just stupid fun. I dunno. We hung out, had sex, whatever. It was never serious. I didn't tell them about anything at all; I was okay with them not really knowing me, at least, not as anything other than a party girl, the runaway princess, etcetera. We didn’t owe each other anything.” 

“Sounds lonely.” 

“Sometimes,” you answer. “But it was fun. I don't regret it. I just never saw room for them in all of this.” 

Joshua hums, low and deep. 

“And you?” you ask, incredulous. “In love?” 

“In university,” he says after a brief pause. “There was a girl. I think I loved her more than I had ever loved anything else before.” 

“What? Who?” you interrupt. “Do I know her?” 

“No.” Then, a quiet chuckle. “No one did. She was a civilian, a normal girl. She wanted to be a biologist, I think. it was either that, or a nurse. We snuck around a lot. Probably more than you did.” 

“Can I ask what happened?” 

“I told her I'd marry her. I thought if I wanted it enough, it would happen. I'd go to my parents, profess my love, and all our rules would fall away somehow. Just like that.” 

Suddenly, it feels like there is a gaping wound in your chest. Every new word seems to draw the bloody edges of your skin further apart. 

“Well, they didn’t,” Joshua continues. “I broke her heart. and I learned that all of this would never go away. Not for love, not for anything.” 

There is an impossible hollowness inside you. You imagine Joshua, twenty-one and bright-eyed at Cambridge, hiding beneath the arch of the cobblestone bridge, the long one behind the quad, to carve hearts into the limestone. There's a girl wrapped in his jacket, her laughter like bells. She draws him close, runs a delicate hand through his hair, a shorter cut, more sporty than it is now. The night is still just as kind, forgiving, as it is now, and the moon still round like a young pearl. 

“And that’s why you’re…you know.” You pause. The words all feel stuck to the roof of your mouth. “You like the rules.” 

“Because it would mean that it didn’t end in vain. That it wasn’t really my fault.” 

“You don’t want to mess up again. I get it.” 

“Yeah.” 

You notice your arms are touching, that they have been touching. Somehow, you don’t want to move away. 

“Why are you telling me this?” you ask.

“Not sure.” Joshua sighs, having fully abandoned the filter he normally speaks to you through. “I don't think we’re so different. I don't know. It feels good to tell someone.” 

“Do you still love her?” 

“No. I don't think I can.” 

“I'm sorry,” you swallow, feeling the familiar lump in your throat. 

“Don’t be. It wasn’t your fault.”

It’s getting cold, the twilight breeze now coming in from the sea. A silence, now sticky, caustic, settles between the two of you. The thought of Joshua, hopelessly in love, a line you hadn’t even dared to cross, seems to wind itself deep into your neurons. 

“No really,” you insist. “I'm sorry. I gave you a hard time—no, I've been giving you a hard time. I didn't know.” 

“You don’t have to do that.” 

“What?” 

“Be nice to me. No one’s watching.” 

“I know,” you say, a foolish conviction rising in your stomach. You almost feel silly, juvenile, for never really baring your heart like how he had. You’re not sure which was worse. 

You turn to look at him, really look at him. He's framed by the haze of the violets, the gentle curtain of the willows. 

“Says the real you?” Joshua asks.

“Yup,” you laugh. “Usually is. You probably get the worst of it, to be honest.” 

“She’s not so bad.” He returns your gaze; it’s honest, unsearching. “According to the real me, by the way.” 

“Really?” 

“Really.” 

There are no words left. In fact, nothing quite says more than the way you now sit together, hands close enough to touch, without quarrel, complaint, or a yearning to prove yourself to some invisible standard. Instead, you enjoy the quiet calm, the way it drapes itself across the garden, the city, the quick of your heart. Now that you think about it, it’s the first time you’ve been able to do this without feeling like you were putting on a show.

This time, you think it’s real when you lean against his shoulder, and he leans back, chasing your warmth.

And it certainly seems to stay real when your hands find each other. You realize he does it the same way every time—the gentle skim of his fingertips down your hand before your palms meet, gently, forthright. 

And it’s here, in the uncertain glow of the summer moon, where you think you’re the closest to ever knowing just what Joshua had been talking about earlier. 

His hand curls around your cheek, holding you, wanting to see you clearer still, and he kisses you. It's not the practiced motion of an ill-conceived love, nor a hungry, blind stumble in your unlit bedroom. No, this time, it's as if you are being drawn back, wonderfully, slowly. Joshua kisses you as if it's the first time, as if to undo all the other times.

And somehow, almost by magic, the fountain song and the phantom photographers, the parents and the press, the world and everything in it, finally draw quiet. 

–

“So,” Jihoon says, reloading his pistol. “You ok? Don’t you hate the range?” 

You push your earmuffs aside to hear him better. “What?” 

“I said, don’t you hate the range?” 

“Well,” you balk. Jihoon puts the gun down and leans against the booth, looking at you from behind the glare of his safety glasses. Behind him is the paper target of a man with five bullet holes through his head. “I think I've gotten used to it.” 

This is all true—you did hate the range, but it’s where you can always count on finding Jihoon on a Sunday afternoon. Better people went to church, but Jihoon preferred to terrorize the poor center circle of a bullseye. 

“Hm.” He picks up the pistol again, stares down its iron sights. “Somi need anything for her birthday?” 

“She needs a new man,” you reply, and Jihoon laughs. 

Bang. Bang. 

“But, no, I'm getting her that vintage Cartier watch she’s been wanting forever. They were auctioning it off in Paris.” 

“Right, since it’s time for her to get a new boyfriend,” Jihoon deadpans, although he can’t quite get it out before he chuckles. “What about Soonyoung?” 

“They cannot get together. You’re just being messy.” 

“Sure, I'm the messy one. Didn’t they sleep together?” 

“That was, like, two years ago. Drunk.” 

Bang. Then a click–the clip’s empty. “By the way—you decided if you’re going to Cotria this weekend? Jeonghan will be back again, you know.” 

You pause, watching Jihoon reload the magazine, shiny bullet by bullet. You definitely know Jeonghan’s coming home—minus all the time you spend on Find My Friends, you were always acutely aware of when he was in town. The real question is if you wanted to see him again. Usually, you’d count down the days, make plans at all your favorite restaurants, buy a bottle of cheap wine to split over a shitty Godzilla movie. That was when you still talked. 

The last time you saw him was when he visited you in Acros. After the music store, you milled around a couple shops, walked through an art gallery. (Remember when you got lost at the Prado? he had asked. You were staring at that painting with all the butts. 

Kinda, you had replied noncommittally. All Jeonghan did lately was start his sentences with remember, like he wanted you to forget who he was now.) 

“I dunno,” is what you land on. “I'm busy.” 

“Well, Jeonghan asked me.” Jihoon takes down his old target and sets up a fresh one, another formless, black silhouette. 

“Asked you what?”

“If I could ask you to come.” 

“Does Josh know?” 

“He actually already helped with arrangements for you to go back,” Jihoon replies, palming the gun again. “He said only if you wanted to, though.” 

The tightness in your chest seems to coil over itself once more. Joshua had asked you about Jeonghan over breakfast one morning, before handing you a coffee and a croissant to soften the blow. You had been talking a lot more lately, which, somehow, you didn’t mind. If he wasn’t making fun of you, he was actually a decent listener. 

You watch Jihoon steady his arms. 

Bang. Bang. Bang. 

–

Like all of your great ideas, it began in the back of a car. 

Surprising, maybe. Accidental? Never. 

You’re getting ahead of yourself, though. It really started earlier tonight, at the charity event you attended with Joshua. 

Lesser beings would blame the wine, a cheap chardonnay only fit for sorority girls on a Friday night. Naturally, you and Joshua were responsible for downing about half the bottle—a fun amount, you’d like to say, although you admit you were surprised at your date’s ability to hold his alcohol. 

You, however, can peg the real culprit: a reasonably slutty dress, removed from the annals of Somi’s closet, back when she was less of a Paris Hilton and more of a Princess Diana. 

The evidence: damning. As you were getting ready—Can you zip me up? you had asked Joshua, fiddling with the rollers in your hair, already a generous ten minutes late. Then the slow, lingering skim of his touch, molasses up the hollow of your spine. At dinner, a warm hand on your knee. You didn’t hang around much longer after that, but walking to the car was a wondrous excuse for the flat of his palm to find the small of your back, fondly, comfortably, as if you had known each other for years. 

Since you had spoken in the garden, certainly you had acted like more of a couple. It came more naturally, likely due to the fact that you had no idea if you were actually a couple or not. You suppose it doesn’t matter at the end of the day. Well—sort of.

Now, you’re just being obtuse. What you’re really trying to do is explain how your hand found its way down Joshua’s pants in the back of your limousine. And still, found is too generous of a word. But you digress. 

The short version: you kissed Joshua. Jihoon parked the car out back, you had gotten tired of Joshua glancing at you through the side of his eyes, and you kissed him. Regrettably, this hasn’t gotten boring yet. You enjoy the way he searches for your touch, the part of his soft lips. 

Sometime between the third and the tenth time your tongue found its way into Joshua’s mouth, Jihoon removed himself from the situation—he was always good at that part. Two wandering hands later, your palm skimmed over the front of Joshua’s slacks. No big deal, except he was half-hard and he moaned in your mouth like he was doing the ad-libs in a Cupcakke song. 

“Whoops,” you had babbled. This whole night, you’d been searching for the brakes on the clown car winding through the horny fog of your horrible, vexed mind. 

“Fuck, sorry,” Joshua replied just as quickly, the words seeming to slip back down his throat. 

Then you had stared at each other and blinked, hard, as if that would erase the fact that, one, the prince of Acros had just cursed approximately half an centimeter from your face, and two, you’d now crossed a bridge that could not be uncrossed. 

You could no longer lie to yourself about the fact that you are hopelessly attracted to Joshua. You don’t even know if you want to lie anymore. You still thought of the time you ran into him, birthday suit and all, all those weeks ago in the bathroom. And, yes, you had wondered how big he was, although you blame Somi for planting that evil idea in you. 

Hence, with God as your witness (since Jihoon was no longer there), you had said, “I can help, you know. If you want.” 

You didn’t expect Joshua to nod so quickly. Then again, you now know yourself to be a poor judge of most things, especially ones relating to whatever this is. 

“Do you want to?” he had asked, eyes fogged over. 

“Yes. really.” Then you stopped. “Is this your first—”

“No. Does it really seem like it?” 

Okay. You’ll have to unpack that later. 

So, finally, here you are. Somewhere along the line, your shame had fallen to the wayside, and a new desire now rocks you. 

“Could’ve just asked earlier,” you tease, thumbing the buckle of Joshua’s belt. 

“Should’ve known you’re not one for subtlety,” he laughs softly, his eyes fixed on how you undo the clasp. It’s a silly comment, but all the blood still rushes to your cheeks at the idea of him wanting you not just now, but all night. “Next time.” 

“Really now.” The button at his waistband proves difficult with your new nails, so you instead sit your hand on the tent in his pants, palm him over the fabric. “You’d let me do this in the washroom of a charity ball?”

Delightfully, you watch him squirm. He doesn’t fight you, instead, uses his hands to bring you closer so you can feel his voice on your skin. “You’d be surprised,” he replies. 

“His highness,” you say before returning to the wretched button, “Fooling around at a formal event? Scandalous.” 

“Says the walking scandal,” Joshua laughs again, nipping at your earlobe. Then a sigh, breathy and tortured, as you finally peel back his slacks. 

“Isn’t this about the time where you be quiet and let me do my thing?”

“Is that an order?” 

“Yeah, since you seem to like them so much.” 

He opens his mouth to complain, but you’ve beaten him to the punch. Skin meets skin; you watch his eyes flutter shut, the slow fall of his shoulders as he exhales. 

Fuck, you think to yourself. If that’s all it takes for him to get hard— you force the thought back to where it came from. You’re getting ahead of yourself. Already, you’re reveling in the lewd image before you: the nation’s darling prince, legs spread and slack-jawed in the back of a limo, dizzy at the thought of a pretty girl playing with his cock. 

Your hand wraps around his length, pulls it out of his briefs. Feeling the weight, heavy and warm on your palm, makes your skin prickle. He is big, but even if he wasn’t, the way he gasps into your ear when you start pumping him is enough to satisfy. 

You start slow, just to be a little mean. He's longer than you expected, you realize. A turn of the wrist at the base, a little more pressure, and you hear him groan, loudly, shamelessly, as he tips his head back. 

“Feels good?” you ask, voice lower than a whisper. You know it does—you’re not inexperienced by any stretch of the imagination, but something about turning the prince into putty makes the months of horrible foreplay worth it. 

“Yeah,” he says, part sigh. “Really good.” 

“Good.” Then you hold out your palm in front of his mouth. You tell yourself it’s a litmus test for his freak-o-meter, but there’s a part of you that wants to make this the best handjob of his short, unexciting life. 

First, he looks at you, wide eyes unblinking. There's already a flush, pretty and pink, across his cheeks, the column of his neck. Then, it clicks. He spits into your hand, and you watch it trail down the plush curve of his lips, his chin, the ridge of his adam’s apple. The color spreads to his ears; his mouth twists shyly. Oh, he looks perfect, maybe even more than perfect like this. 

As if drawn by a magnet, you kiss him, and your hand finds his cock again. The friction alone draws out a low whine from Joshua’s chest, enough for you to feel the sound on your own tongue. Emboldened, you pump faster, harder, loving the way his hips kick up to meet your touch. 

Still, he gives no indication that he’s close. Something tells you he has more stamina than you think, which surprises you. Thirty minutes ago, you thought he was a virgin. 

“Josh?” you murmur, your lips brushing over his. “Wanna taste you.” 

He meets your gaze, expression unreadable. You think maybe you’re moving too fast, that you’ve crossed some sort of boundary, until you feel the shadow of his hand move, first on your waist, then up the back of your neck. He gathers your hair in one hand, easily, as if he’s done this many a time before, and you get the message. 

You wet your lips, swollen at this point, and bow your head. You’re running on something crazier than adrenaline at this point—even seeing the bead of precum at his tip is making your jaw feel heavy. 

The first taste, always thrilling, sends sparks to your cunt. You seal your lips around his cockhead, feeling its weight on your greedy tongue, and he pulls your hair just enough to make you moan. 

“Were you thinking about doing this all night?” Joshua asks, voice deceptively innocent. 

You can’t answer. You don’t want to. He tastes good, he even fucking smells good, and you want him bad. Instead, you take him to the base, feel him bump against your palate as you try not to gag. You can’t fit him all the way, so your hands make up the slack. He's even bigger fully hard, and already, you feel the ache in your cheeks, your temples. 

“Fuck, you must have been.” A groan, low and slutty. “Doing so good for me.”

You can’t tell if he’s being genuine or if this is his version of dirty talk, but it’s working. His hand is gentle, restrained behind you, letting you lead. The worse part of you wonders what it would take for him to break, but that’s a project for another time. 

Honestly, he doesn’t need to do much—again and again, you chase the feeling of his cock deep in your throat, enough to bruise. You don’t even care if you gag around him; when you do, he pulls your hair back, just enough to make your scalp prickle wonderfully, seemingly oblivious to the fact that you like it. 

You feel heady with arousal. You start to wonder how he is in bed, if he’d hold your hair like that, run his mouth like he is now. He's vocal, more than anyone else you’ve been with, and every little noise goes straight to your core, makes your thighs squeeze together pathetically. By now, you’re sure you’ve ruined this set of panties. 

“ ‘m close,” he says between breaths. “You don’t have to—” 

Stupid, stupid boy, you think. You don’t think you’ve wanted to do anything more. So instead of answering, you look up at him, eyes big and watery, and you suck hard. with your tongue nestled underneath his cockhead, right by the vein, it’s almost too easy. 

He groans, loud, satisfied, and you feel his release fill your mouth. Even after swallowing, it’s enough to run down your chin, get your makeup all smudged, and you like it. If you weren’t in trouble already, you are now. 

“Ah, I made you a mess,” Joshua says, gravelly and intimate. With one hand, he takes the handkerchief out of his suit jacket and cradles your jaw with the other. “Hold still.” 

“You,” you manage after clearing your throat. “You don’t have to sacrifice your pocket square.” 

“Yes, I do,” he chuckles. He wipes the corners of your mouth, your aching chin, and it almost makes you cry. “You literally gave me head in the back of a car. The pocket square can go.” 

He draws you up to his chest so you can rest your head on him. There’s a warm, melty feeling between your ribs, minus what you had just swallowed. Inexplicably, even as the horny fog clears from your brain, you still want to be close, closer than close and then closer still. 

“Head? I don’t like hearing you use normal people slang.” You pout, and you feel his laugh radiate from beneath his skin. “Good head, at least?” 

“Oh, please. Better than good,” he answers. “You’re perfect. perfect.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” you start. Then he shuts you up with his mouth over yours, and you forget to think about liking him, loving him, or marrying him—this, you think you can do. 

—

“We’re in Barcelona!” 

You’re greeted by a pocket sized Somi and Soonyoung as they grin at you from your phone screen. They look to be on the balcony of a hotel suite, both wearing their matching silk robes. 

“Wow,” you reply. “And where was my invite?” 

“We did invite you, bitch,” Somi says, pulling down her sunglasses to look at you. “You said you were busy.” 

“Well, I mean…” you uncap a bottle of nail polish. “That's not untrue.”

“The ocean needs you,” Soonyoung whines, clutching his chest. “We need you.” 

“I'm sorry! Josh and I have been doing engagement stuff.” 

“Josh? Since when were you on a nickname basis?” 

“Whatever,” you interrupt. “What are you guys gonna do today?” 

“Beach,” Soonyoung responds brightly, with Somi’s Don’t let her change the subject! loud in the background. 

To be honest, you don’t even know the answer to her question. It just sort of happened, which seems to be the new normal for you. You’re also trying to pull apart last night–the freak-o-meter test came back inconclusive, and, for some reason, Joshua fell asleep with his arm over your middle. (Actually, you can think of a few reasons why he did that, but you’re not really sure how to feel about any of them.) 

“Ugh, I miss you guys.” You wipe at your pinkie toe, having smudged the polish beyond repair. “Drink a little extra sangria for me. And by little, I mean a lot.”  

“You’re still coming to Somi’s birthday, right?” Soonyoung asks.

“Yes, of course she is,” Somi replies. “Unless you can’t. Which I totally understand.”

“I still can,” you lie. “It just has to be more low-key than usual.” 

“No paparazzi,” Somi says. “And I'll tell everyone to keep you on the down low. Super duper down low.” 

“No way.” Damn, you curse to yourself—you keep screwing up painting your big toe. “Seriously?”

“Anything for my queen,” she giggles. “Pitbull is also confirmed, by the way. Secret Pitbull now.” 

“Good, because that’s the only reason I’m coming.” 

“Boo, you whore.” Somi wrinkles her nose at you playfully. (Is she being serious? Soonyoung asks in the background.) “Also, I'm still waiting for my update on the whole prince thing. I've been very patient.”

“No updates. Nothing to report,” you insist. Frustratingly, your cheeks are hot, like you’re in secondary school all over again. 

“You fucked him, huh?” 

You bite the inside of your cheek. 

“Halfway. Maybe.” 

The combined sound of Somi and Soonyoung’s gasps rips apart your phone speakers, and you draw in a big breath. I did it for the plot doesn’t quite seem like the right justification, not like it used to be. The plot never used to involve the M word, love, or any sort of feelings at all. Now things are more confusing than late-stage Grey’s Anatomy, but good luck explaining that over the phone.

“So you do like him,” Soonyoung says, saucer eyes sparkly on-screen.

“I don't know,” you answer. It’s true, you don’t. To you, like was flirting over text and french kissing. Paradoxically, you had told Joshua all of that, and he still decided to do whatever he did to you on the ledge of the fountain all those days ago. It felt like he ate the heart right out of your chest. Then you had to go and suck his dick, which never made anything less complicated. 

“Oh please. Look at you,” Somi laughs. “Yeah, you do.” 

Fuck. You’ve smudged all the polish off your big toe again. 

– 

Not much surprises you these days, but you can’t say you were expecting to see your riding boots to be the first thing you see when you arrive home in Cotria. 

The second thing you see is Jeonghan, smiling at you in his big, stupid riding helmet, camo-printed because he bought it when he was 15 and his head never grew much bigger since. 

“For old times sake?” He then holds your own helmet up by the straps, and whatever twinge of annoyance you had felt earlier makes way for something softer, more forgiving. “Everything's set up outside.” 

It doesn’t take you much time to take him up on the offer. If anything, a long ride usually solves all your problems, and you definitely have problems that need solving. 

You saddle up in the stables, wordlessly, moved by habit. It seems to be the same for Jeonghan, too. Even Peanut acts like it hasn’t been years since he’s seen him, and he noses at the box of sugar cubes like he always does. Then again, horses don’t hold grudges, at least, not like you do. Even Joshua seemed more optimistic about this encounter than you did. 

“So you're back back,” you say, hooking your feet in the stirrups. “Or do you have more jet-setting to do?” 

“Back back,” Jeonghan replies. “Missed home too much.” 

He cocks his head towards the old riding trail, the one that loops the long way through the woods. The gesture is but a formality—it’s the only path you ever take. Still, you follow behind his horse, watching the beige swoosh of Peanut’s tail the same way you did when you were a little girl and things were far simpler than they are now. 

Under the cornflower sky of a near-autumn, the forest seems endless. A flock of geese split the sky in two; a warm breeze haunts the canopy, scattering the afternoon light. The dirt under you is soft, peaty from the morning rain. The hoofbeats are silent today. 

Jeonghan’s horse slows so that you ride side-by-side. 

“Hey, cricket?” 

“Yeah?” 

“I…” Jeonghan clears his throat and pauses, quite unlike him. “I wanted to come out here to talk.” 

“Everything ok?” 

“Yeah, I…” Another pause. “I know things haven’t felt normal between us. For me, at least.” 

You almost drop the reins. A strange, floating feeling is set off in your body, like a flare. 

“Yeah,” you reply. “I was kinda hoping you would say that.” 

“I'm sorry.” A hard swallow. “I haven't really been the best brother, have I?” 

“Well, not…not really.” Quickly, frenetically, words bob up in the back of your mouth like you’re playing whack-a-mole. You had been waiting for this conversation to happen for so long, you realized you hadn’t planned much further than that. “It felt like you’d changed. A lot.” 

The wind feels like ribbons around you. You sway back and forth on Astrid, as if on a boat. 

“Was it the birthday party thing?” you ask. “I didn’t mean for it to…you know.” 

“Actually, that was my fault.” Jeonghan smiles bitterly. “I shouldn't have let Mom and Dad run me over like that. You should’ve been there. It was never really the same without you.” 

“Well, I should've come,” you admit. “So we both fucked up.” 

“Maybe,” he chuckles. “But the rest—definitely my fault. I made myself busy because I felt like I had to.” 

You’re growing to really hate that word. Jeonghan had to grow up, Joshua had to break up with his first love, you had to learn to pick up all the pieces of both of these things and try to fit them back into your life. 

“You didn’t even look back.” 

“I was scared, cricket. That if I kept looking back, I wouldn't be able to go forward. And I didn’t want to leave you behind, but I did. I think there was a happy middle somewhere, I just couldn’t find it.” 

“Jeonghan, you’re not really making sense right now,” you say, flattened, and he laughs. 

“I don't even know what I'm saying. I think I'm trying to say that I just want you to be happy. And that I'm sorry.” 

You bite your lip, as if to distract yourself from the strange pressure in your throat. You think you want to cry, but you’re not sure.

“But are you happy?” you ask. “With the coronation and everything? Did you even want this?” 

“I am, believe it or not. I know you don’t, but I'm not lying. Somewhere along the line, I started liking all of the talking, the traveling, the interviews. I like that I can help people. Some of it sucks, but not all of it.” He laughs, finally one that sounds like something you can remember. “Not everything you have to do is bad.” 

“Jeonghan, I'm getting married because of you. Because of this,” you say, trying to keep your voice from cracking. “I don't know how to do this. Any of this, not like you, not like Mom, or anyone.” 

This, in fact, does make Jeonghan stop. He stills and falls silent. At once, it seems the forest goes quiet too. 

“Don’t get married, then.” You don’t respond, so he says it again. “You don’t have to go through with it. Not for my sake, at least.” 

“What?” 

“I've been thinking about it ever since it happened. I can talk to everyone. You’d rather not be with the guy, right?”

Your tongue freezes in your mouth. You thought you had an answer, but it refuses to come out. 

“I have a duty to protect you, too. I’ll be fine with or without the press.” 

“Jeonghan,” you say quietly. Many moons ago, you would have laughed at the word duty, but instead, your stomach turns over and over and over. “You don’t have to.” 

“I want to,” is his simple answer. “I want to because I care about you. We can figure out the rest.” 

Something in your bones feels heavy. You’d also been waiting to hear those words, but it didn’t feel as freeing as you thought it would. You think about Joshua, his books and his perfectly placed bookmarks, his dumb dad jokes, the way he reaches for your hand, fingertips before palm. 

“Can I think about it?” 

“Of course. The engagement ball is probably happening either way, but it’s no big deal. Bigger engagements have been called off in far worse circumstances.” 

You’re having trouble believing him, but you have no other choice. Your life would certainly get a lot easier if everything were to just end. No more press releases, scripts, or awkward pictures. And no more worrying about if you could go out on the weekends or just how much of yourself to give up to make things work. 

“There's no rush.” He turns to look at you with the same wild shine in his eyes that you’d grown to miss so much. “Truce?”

That, somehow, you’re much happier to hear. You thought you’d be angrier than this, feel the usual metal-red of your gut, but all that’s left is a sobering feeling of relief, of home. At last, things feel close to normal. 

“Truce.” 

So you ride and ride, but a decision doesn’t come to you as easily as you thought. The sunset breaks; the word duty clings to you, unshakable, unrelenting. 

—

Somehow, you have gone full circle: at the end of a long day, you find yourself back at the piano, much like you did when you were seven, and the only thing you could do right was play Hot Cross Buns. 

Joshua had bought an unreasonable amount of music books, half guitar for him, half piano for you. You’d forgotten just how much you had liked playing until that night, many nights ago, when you and he had first muddled through that duet. 

Yesterday, you and your parents had tea at the waterfront before you had left the country. You were still undecided on the engagement; frustratingly, the needle hadn’t moved much in either direction since Jeonghan had raised his proposal to you. 

Congratulations, your mother had told you, right over her cup of oolong. 

For what? 

You’ve risen to the occasion. You’ve grown up. 

To you, this was not a compliment. You didn’t know what it was. You had twisted the ring on your finger, back and forth, a habit you picked up after all the time you spent wearing it. You wondered if somewhere, you had become exactly like Jeonghan, molded and spun into someone unrecognizable. Maybe that was why Joshua finally seemed to like you.

Have you practiced for your first dance? your father asked, and you no longer had time to worry about the state of your personality—you had other fires to put out. 

Really, that’s why you’re at the piano today. You thought you could play the damn tune and somehow remember all the ballroom dancing lessons you had taken when you were younger. Unsurprisingly, it hasn’t worked yet. 

There’s a knock at the doorframe. “Come in,” you say, already knowing that it’s Joshua. No one else does that; Jihoon barges in and just starts talking, and you can hear Joshua’s parents from a mile away because of all the jewelry they have on. 

“Just wanted to see what you were up to,” Joshua says. He leans against the frame of the piano, already dressed down for the night. 

“Nothing,” you reply. “Just magically hoping that I remember how to ballroom dance.” 

“Well, first things first, you can’t dance sitting down.” He chuckles, and you pull your lips tight. 

“I'm serious, Josh,” you whine. 

“You really don’t remember?” He gives you one of those looks, one that you’re quite used to now, with the judgmental wrinkle of the brow. “Didn’t you take lessons?” 

“Yeah, like…fifty million years ago.” 

“I couldn’t tell,” he says, grinning something foolish. “You don’t look a day over fifty.” Then he offers you his hand, which you take, and he easily pulls you from the bench. 

“Flattered,” you say, unable to push down the corners of your smile. “You gonna teach this senior citizen a few moves?” 

“Perhaps, as my good deed for the day.” He holds your hand, still firmly in his, and slides it up his arm to rest on his bicep. “Left hand here,” he tells you. 

“Are you flirting with me?” 

“Not yet,” Joshua laughs. “The ballroom hold ring a bell?” His other hand finds your free one, and you interlace fingers simply, easily. Then, the warmth of a hand between your shoulder blades, one that draws you to his chest. 

“I think the only dancing I know how to do is half drunk in the dark. Can’t exactly throw it back on you in front of God and country.” 

Joshua grins, a big one, and you, traitorously, feel your cheeks get prickly. 

“I wouldn't want God looking at you like that,” he teases. 

“And country’s already seen it all.” 

“They should consider themselves very lucky, then.” His eyes meet yours, lit by the scattered light of the chandelier. “It's my turn to ask you to let me lead.” 

“Fine,” you pout, noticing that familiar warmth in your stomach. 

Joshua begins to count your steps off (one, two, three—ow, that’s my foot! —sorry!). He’s patient with you, more patient than you think you deserve. His hand seems to slot perfectly into the curve of your back; his gaze settles onto you in a way that makes your chest feel heavy, molten. 

“For someone who goes out so much, you have a terrible sense of rhythm,” Joshua says, teasing. 

“Hey,” you object. “Maybe I just have a bad teacher.” 

“Oh, so it’s my fault now?” 

“Well, I'm not about to blame Britney Spears.” 

Joshua laughs, and the sound is so close to you, you can feel it on your skin. 

“I still think it’s the student’s fault.” 

“Me?!” Perfectly timed, your sock-clad feet collide (yours, striped and fuzzy, his, plain white). “Impossible.” 

“Too distracting,” he murmurs, and you notice how unfairly pretty his eyes are. “You bump into me, criticize me, you look at me like that…”

You feel dizzy. You don’t know what Joshua’s doing to you, but it’s mean. Your face is warm, and normally you’d blame it all on the alcohol but you haven’t had any. Worst of all, the soft part of you, the lizard-brained, impulsive part, can’t stop thinking about his lips and how they would feel on yours.

It’s a thought you don’t let linger, much like all of the other half-thoughts you have, and you kiss him, as if it was a reprieve from the terrible, horrible way he’s making you feel. (It isn’t.) 

“You talk too much,” you tell Joshua, right against his lips. “Not enough teaching.” 

“I'm putting you in remediation.” 

“Devastating.” 

“And giving you homework.” 

“Whatever shall I do?” 

Joshua answers that question for you. He kisses you, once, twice, still not enough, and, somehow, things feel more simple than they ever had before. 

—

Jihoon’s eyes are dark, dagger-sharp in the rearview mirror. 

“We’re coming up,” he says. “A few minutes out.” 

“I know,” you answer. Yunjin was successful, almost too successful, in her task of finding you an appropriately revealing dress for a newly engaged twenty-something at the party of the year. The filmy silk stretches around your thighs; the cowl neck flirts with the neckline of the bikini top you have on underneath. 

You look good, probably better than how you’ve looked in months. And yet, for some reason, you don’t feel good, at least, not how you’d thought you’d feel on the way to the only event you’d been looking forward to this year.

Somi’s gift rattles in your lap. It’s covered in this loud, hot pink wrapping paper unbecoming of something you had spent years tracking down on the antiques circuit. Normally, you’d have a laugh with Jihoon about it, maybe take some selfies in the car, but instead, you find yourself spinning your ring around your finger like you always seem to do these days.

You think of Jeonghan, of Joshua. Of course, what you do or don’t do on your best friend’s birthday is none of their business (although, very inconveniently, Jeonghan did have some event this weekend, and Joshua was traveling). But still, you think of the boldface headlines, the whispering gossip forums, the washed-out image of you in your little dress on the cover of a cheap magazine. This wasn’t exactly a tame party, and things weren’t just about you anymore, not like they used to be. 

Marking your arrival isn’t the GPS nor Jihoon, rather, it’s the firefly buzz of the cameras outside your limo as it’s forced to come to a stop. You squint, trying to see past the tint of your windows, and see Somi, radiant in her birthday tiara, as she pushes through the crowd. Behind her is the villa she rented, illuminated by pink and gold strobe lights. 

You crack open the car door and are met with a stifling deluge of camera flashes. Music pulses through the air, enough to feel beneath your heels. 

“Who's my favorite princess?” Somi exclaims, throwing her arms open. “You made it! you look hot.” 

“Not as hot as the birthday girl,” you reply, and you let her squeeze the air out of you in a wonderful, bone-crushing hug. “What's with all the cameras?” 

“Professional photographers. Just wanted something to remember the night by, because we are blacking out.” She giggles, already tipsy. “Come, come, we’re doing shots inside.” 

“Without me?” 

“We’ll catch you up.” 

Somi drags you by the hand through the sea of people, and you watch the cameras follow as they always do. She leads you up the stairs, underneath the towering balloon display, and into the foyer, already darkened, lit only by a disco ball chandelier and the neon backlights. 

You spot Soonyoung by a champagne tower that seems twice his size, as promised. He's in a leather jacket, no shirt under, and you watch his eyes light up as they meet yours. 

“A shot for her highness,” he shouts over the music. 

“I thought this was champagne.” 

“Tequila's close enough.” He laughs, eyes upturned, bright like gemstones. 

The first shot goes down easy. it always does. So does the second, unsurprisingly. Around the third is when Somi tells you that the strippers are coming in an hour. (—Strippers?! —Not everyone has a fiancé, you know.) 

And, just like that, you’re back to the beginning. It’s hard to think over the ridiculously good Kesha mix the DJ is playing, but, terribly, you think you’re starting to understand what Jeonghan was talking about. You’re still not sure how you feel about duty, responsibility, sacrifice, those heavy words that feel impossibly heavier in your mouth, but all you know is that, as much fun as you’re having now, it comes at a fair price. 

Somi told you nothing, no compromising pictures, no drama, would reach the press, but, as hard as she may try, you feel like enough people have laid eyes on you already that someone was bound to hear something. If not now, then definitely in a few hours when everyone’s on at least two and a half substances, and all bets are off.

Briefly, you recall your appearance at the derby, the memory like a shard of glass. You had stood guileless next to Joshua, tripping over your words because you hadn’t cared enough to read the damn briefing, and he had covered it up with a dad joke or two. Coming up with those abominations must have been hard enough for someone whose first book was the Oxford Dictionary, but you don’t even think God and all his angels could cover up this. More than that, the thought of everyone having to try anyway makes your gut twist. 

Someone tells you to smile for a selfie. You recognize her, but you don’t remember her name (Amelia or Alicia, one of Somi’s friend of a friends. On second glance, there are definitely more than 200 people here). Let's dance! another voice shouts in your ear. 

Your head hurts. You hate the idea that Jeonghan might be a little right, but you hate even more that you’re starting to agree with him. Maybe you need another shot. 

“Your gift,” you say, fighting over the chorus of Your Love Is My Drug. “Somi!” 

“Oh my god, you did not!” she squeals. She clasps her hands over yours, wrapped around the box, and draws them to her. “Let me take it to the table. I’ll meet you by the pool—oh, oh, there’s a hot dog stand out there too!”

“Actually,” you start. You’re not that drunk, not yet, but now you think you can feel the ground start to sway under you. it wouldn’t be too far a stretch to say that in half an hour, after a little time at the bar, you’d probably be spending the night, no question. “I think I have to run.”

“Aw, really?” Somi tilts her head and squints, as if trying to read your mind. 

“I am so sorry,” you tell her, as sincerely as one can over a pop song from the 2000s. “Swear I'll make it up to you.” 

“Life stuff, right?” 

“Yeah.”  

“It's ok,” she says. “Really really. Go home, figure your shit out, and we can have our own party.” 

She holds your joined hands to her heart. Whatever look you gave her, she believed. That, or she knows you better than you think. 

So you leave. The car ride home is silent. Jihoon doesn’t ask questions, and you can still hear the sound of the music ringing in your ears, on and on and on. 

– 

You think the worst thing you’ve ever woken up to was the Crazy Frog ringtone of one of the guys you had slept with during university. 

The second worst has got to be five voice memos and three consecutive missed Facetime calls from Somi, which is the first thing you see upon opening your eyes. 

“Oh fuck,” you murmur, still coming to. Your bed is empty, but you see Joshua's suitcase in the corner of the room. He must have come home early this morning, while you were still sleeping. 

You crack open your text messages. 

–OH MY GOD.

–I AM SO SO SORRY. 

–someone must have gotten paid off for last night’s pictures…i had no idea i swear 

Then a voice memo. Then another voice memo. then a PopCrave Twitter screenshot: YOU CAN TAKE THE PRINCESS OUT OF THE PARTY–OR CAN YOU? followed by the worst, most incriminating photo of you and Soonyoung, arms linked, throwing back a shot. 

“No, no, no, no.” You squeeze your eyes shut, feeling the stone-cold drop of your heart to your feet. “Fuck. Fuck.” 

Shit. You have to find Joshua and make it right. 

Somehow, you thought it wouldn’t matter, that you didn’t care what did or didn’t get out as long as you were able to have a good time—you desperately search for that same feeling, knowing that it’s long, long gone. You don’t even think you truly ever believed that. 

You race down the palace hallways, ones that feel far more familiar than the rigid bastions they were when you first got here, but it’s Joshua who finds you before you find him. Or rather, it’s his voice you hear, trickling out from behind the library door. 

Suddenly, you’re five again, and you’re spying on Jeonghan talking to your parents. You peek through the crack of the doorframe. As Somi would say, nightmare blunt rotation: there stands Joshua, surrounded by both sets of parents, and no one looks happy. 

“We knew it,” another voice says—your mother. “We’re sorry, but we said this would happen.” 

“It’s no matter. There’s nothing left to do but call the engagement off.” 

The room goes quiet. You notice your hands are shaking. Your face feels numb.  

“You’re right. I don't think anyone’s getting what they want out of this, anyway.” 

“We’ll cancel the ball. There’s no way around it. Likely a relief, right, Joshua?” 

The moment seems to squirm, suspended in time. This is what you were waiting for, right? Your parents were right—no one wanted this anyway. You certainly didn’t, and now you get your get out of jail free card. On top of that, you get to hear what you’d been expecting all along—that Joshua never liked you, that this was fun and all, but he’s ready to stop playing pretend. 

“I…I disagree.” You freeze. “She's my fiancée. I made a commitment to her, and I'm not going to walk away.” 

“Joshua, my dear, this arrangement was never going to work. You can be honest.” 

This is the part where Joshua nods, does his perfectly symmetric smile, and agrees. This is what he does, what he’s been doing since forever. The story always ends the same way. That was the point. 

Instead: “I am being honest. Since when was it illegal to go to your best friend’s birthday party? I don't care what the rest of the world has to say. She’s not who they, or you, think she is.” Through the door-gap, you watch the pursed, resolute draw of Joshua’s lips. “You didn’t even invite her here to talk about her own engagement. You never once gave her a chance.” 

A stunned silence falls over the room. 

 “I’m sorry, but this is how I feel. I won't let you take another girl I love from me. Not again.” 

Your hand flies over your mouth, and something twists deep in you, like you’re drowning from the inside out. You can’t, won’t, believe what you just heard. That somehow, beyond all the fighting, the quiet nights, the snide remarks and the fake smiles, that Joshua loved you? Loved? Enough to say all that to the people that ruled his life with an iron fist? None of this made sense, but nothing’s made sense since you got here. 

The room erupts into noise, peals of voices all colliding into each other, and you do what you do best—you leave. 

—

No one talks about that morning. You don’t even think anyone knows you were there—part of you wishes that you actually weren’t, so you didn’t have all this on your mind. (Joshua, later that day: I got you something from Seoul. From his suitcase, a bottle of soju. Just kidding. Then a jade bracelet, so vibrant it looked like the ocean.) No one talked about Somi, and no one talked about the party. 

In fact, everyone had just rolled on as usual, all the way to the end of the week, the day of your engagement ball. Even you did. The word love felt so big, so burdensome, when Joshua had said it to his parents, but you didn't mind it on you.

The lingering touches, late night talks, tea made the way you like—nothing really had changed much since shit hit the fan, but now you knew that was the label. You guess that when you told Joshua you had never been in love before, you were really telling the truth. Either that, or he was just saying whatever the hell he needed to stop your engagement from imploding. 

Still, you found yourself still reaching for him. There was an unfamiliar comfort about his nearness. You woke up this morning cradled to his side, and, for once, it wasn’t a scene you wanted to erase. 

Now, your hairstylist hoses your blowout down with hairspray. You’d spent the better part of this morning sitting in different chairs, hair, makeup, nails. A part of you waits for the other shoe to drop: Joshua’s mother would waltz in and tell you, Surprise! You’re a single woman again, just as you should be. 

It never happens. You’re wrapped in various mists and creams and powders, all the while fielding all the same questions about the ball (—Excited for tonight? Yeah, of course. —How does it feel being the surprise couple of the year? Surprising.)

It’s not until Yunjin comes in, wheeling in your giant, sparkly engagement gown, all Italian lace and satin brocade, that things feel real. 

The dress itself is beautiful, a pale champagne number, gathered at the waist with a smattering of crystals down the train. Earlier, when you’d first tried it on, it looked like a costume fit for the girl playing wife. It was another smothering thing that hung on you, just like everything else in your life. 

Today, you watch your form tall in the mirror. You meet her eyes, her uncertain mouth. It’s you, for sure, but there’s a stillness about you that you can’t quite put a finger on. Maybe Joshua’s demeanor was contagious. 

Yunjin laces your bodice up, careful eyelet by eyelet—“You’re nervous, huh?” 

“Is it really that obvious?” 

She laughs. “Breathe. You’re not getting married. Not yet, at least.”

“Yunjin, isn’t it weird that no one has talked to me about Somi’s birthday? Everyone on the planet saw the leaks.” 

“Maybe they finally learned to stop giving a shit. You looked hot, you had a good time, end of story. It’s not like anyone died.” 

True. She grabs your shoulders and looks at you through the reflection of the mirror. 

“Smile. Enjoy yourself. You look so, so beautiful.” You take a deep, soaking breath. You think about Joshua and all the sharp edges of his voice when he said he loved you. You had argued with him a lot, and you had never heard him like that. “You want this, right?” 

Well, when she puts it like that? Yeah, you do. You think you really do. 

—

The Great Hall is unrecognizable when you stand before it; the pink and white zinnias have been replaced by bouquets of calla lily and eucalyptus, the arched ceilings, once cold and imposing, now are bathed in the buttery, warm glow of candlelight. And the too-big space, usually empty, is now filled with partygoers, radiant in their best dress. 

You stand at the top of the grand staircase. A thrill, anxious and skittering, runs up your bones. You’re reminded of your last big public showing at the derby, of the sea of microphones and the eye of the camera and the crowd, all staring you down. 

You run through the cruel motions. First, a curtesy, so slow you think the audience can see you tremble. Then you take the first step down the stairs, and you watch them turn to you like the tanned halo-faces of sunflowers. 

There, in the center of the crowd stands Joshua, unwavering. He's wearing a deep blue tuxedo, unfairly flattering (though, the lone curl of hair falling into his eyes is strong competition). Meeting his gaze, you watch the corners of his mouth fold up in a way that reminds you to breathe. In, out. You’ve got this. 

Every step, you feel like you’re learning to walk for the first time, like you've lost your sea legs. Amongst the guests, you spot Jeonghan, next to him Jihoon. Then back to Joshua, like your eyes can’t stay away. He shoots you a covert thumbs up—you’d expect nothing less from the corniest man on Earth—but, nonetheless, it makes the long walk to the center of the room feel much shorter, despite the torture devices on your feet (Louboutins, not broken in).

One, two steps, and you’re face to face with your fiancé. Your heart is still racing, thrumming against the cage of your bodice like it's trying to escape. You’re sure the whole congregation could hear it if not for the quartet that’s come to life, now playing the opening notes of Blue Danube. 

Yes, that’s right, you tell yourself. You still have to dance in front of the whole fucking country. 

Before you crash out and make this a national emergency, you feel the warmth of Joshua’s touch. Fingertips before palm, always the same, he finds your hand, like he manages to do every single time. 

“I’ve got you,” he says, low enough for only you to hear. And for the first time, you believe him. 

—

Really, you could have gotten away with saying nothing. It would be much easier, to be honest. 

The ball had gone off without a hitch so far. The music was good, the food even better, and your parents were somehow silenced, instead opting to dance among the crowd like they were young again. Still, you can’t seem to put your mind at ease. With everything that had happened this week, Jeonghan’s offer only seemed to weigh heavier, more urgently upon you. And of course, there was the matter of Joshua choosing to opt into your engagement, against all odds. 

You realize you had gotten quite good at running away from things—your family, your responsibilities, the media, even Joshua—not knowing how to bear the weight of an impossible duty. Actually, you thought it was a royal failing until you had seen Joshua in the library that morning, jaw set, unbending. 

“Hey, Josh?” you ask, with a few bats of the eyelashes to soften the blow. 

He tilts his head in that way he does, and his gaze softens. Damn you, you think. Trying to distract me with those horrible, pretty eyes.  

“Can we talk about Sunday?” 

“What about Sunday?” He still looks confused, and you know the look well enough at this point to know he’s not faking it. 

“Um…Sunday morning. After the party,” you say slowly, as if giving yourself time to back out, just in case. “I heard you talking with our parents.” 

In an instant, his expression changes, and his eyebrows roll into their usual furrow. You feel his hand falter behind your shoulder blades. 

“Oh,” Joshua’s voice drops. “That.” 

“I’m sorry,” you say, realizing all you do is apologize. “It was supposed to be a small thing, no cameras, I barely even stayed—.”

“Hey, it’s ok,” Joshua interrupts. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You don’t have to explain yourself to me.” 

“I-I know,” you fib. The thing about pretending is that you’ve both become so good at it that you have trouble believing him. “It’s just that I also heard what…what you said.” 

Somehow, the wrinkle between his brows grows deeper. 

“I said a lot of things that morning.” 

You press your lips thin, feeling what you’re about to say ball up on your tongue. Easily, you could change the subject; you didn’t have to know anything, really, you could stay silent and let the world work around you, just as you had been taught. But you watch the soft twist of Joshua’s gaze, how he studies your expression, and you know you can’t go back to how things used to be. 

“You said you…” You take a hard swallow. All the blood in your body only wants to exist in the apples of your cheeks, away from your brain where you need it most. “You loved me.” 

At once, the world spins off-axis. You feel the anxious flutter of Joshua’s heart under your palm, and your own stomach flips in its cage. The L word coming out of your mouth seems ten-thousand times more ridiculous than anything he could say, probably because you can’t remember the last time you actually said it and it came out all wrong. 

He must feel the same way. For once, he can’t meet your eyes. His mouth opens and then closes, as if hoping to delete what you had just said. Maybe you would just keep dancing, beat by beat, and this would all go away.

Silly girl, you think, traitorously. Pick a damn side. Either he likes you or he doesn’t. The problem is that, somehow, both options hurt your feelings. 

“I mean, I totally get it if you just said it to keep up the act,” you cut in. “There are a lot of reasons why this is a good idea.” 

“The act?” 

“Well, yeah,” you reply. “Isn’t that what this is? Haven’t we just been lying to everyone? To ourselves?” 

Joshua’s hand at your waist stiffens before he draws you closer to him. You expect him to roll his eyes, do one of those exaggerated sighs that he does when you’re being difficult. 

Instead he leans in, close enough for you to feel his voice against your skin. 

“Do you think I was lying back there? Or now?” 

Your heart lurches. 

“I—no, but.” You pause. Every single coherent thought you’ve ever had scatters to the wind. “Well.” 

“Because i’m not,” Joshua says, this time, more softly. “Not about this. Or us.” 

“But how? Why?” You bite the inside of your cheek, feeling your chest swell in a way it never has before. “You’re perfect, and I'm…I’m me.” 

“That’s why,” he answers, simply. “You’re smart, funny, honest—sometimes too honest, even. You reminded me there was a better version of me that I had left behind. One that wasn’t perfect, but was happy.” 

He holds you in his gaze the same way he did in the garden, carved by moonlight. An impossible warmth fills your skin; at once, it feels like, in your vision, there is only him, like you're in a cartoon. 

“At the same time, I understand if—” Joshua starts. 

“I feel the same,” you blurt out. “I…I don’t know what this is, and I don’t think I ever really did, but I want to try.” 

You watch the surprise write itself all over his doe eyes, his unfairly rounded cheeks. From by the hors d'oeuvres, nosy Jeonghan peeks over the shoulder of another guest, already familiar with your lack of volume control. You watch him grin something stupid, triumphant. 

“You’re uptight, judgmental, and you make the worst jokes. But I…I think I might be falling for you too.” 

Saying it is like getting peeled back, terrible layer by layer, like you wrapped a hand around your heart and ripped it out your chest. And yet you’re glowing, newly-bitten with something that feels like freedom.  

“I thought you said I was perfect,” Joshua says, the pink of his lips already unraveling into a smile. This one, you think, finally reaches his eyes. 

“Shush, you—” And amongst a chorus of Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! (which would be, quite frankly, humiliating in any other scenario), you finally give in to your adoring public, and kiss. 

—

The walk back to your bedroom is a blur. All you remember are hands—hands on the small of your back, hands riding up the length of your thigh, hands in your hair, pulling at your roots. You remember hands, and the taste of Joshua’s mouth. 

It’s a walk you are not proud of, one that you’re glad happened in the dark, with all the guests gone home. 

“Did I tell you how beautiful you are?” Joshua says, pressed to the hollow of your neck as you fumble with the handle of the door to your room. “Couldn’t take my eyes off you. No one could.” 

Then his lips on yours, before you finally remember how to open a door. 

“Fuck, Josh,” you breathe between kisses, stumbling backwards until your back hits the vanity. “Need you, need you so bad.” 

He bites your lip, lets you sigh into his mouth. 

“Dress, off,” you tell him, and you lean forward on the table. Obediently, Joshua gets to work. His touch feels fiery, electric on your skin. 

In the mirror, you’re able to see the damage: your lipstick, smudged beyond repair, your blown-out pupils under your heavy lashes. There’s a hickey on your collarbone. 

“Now you have me wishing you'd wear one of those party dresses,” Joshua murmurs, still working at the lacing at your waist. “Far easier to take off.” 

“Really. The same ones that got me in big trouble with you lot?"

"For what it's worth," he replies, before kissing the back of your neck, then the ticklish space under your ear to make you laugh. "I always liked you in those. Even before we met." 

"No way." He’s finished with the lacing; your dress falls to your feet in a glorious heap of silk and lace, leaving you in your slip. Another kiss to your jaw, your cheek. "You hated them." 

"I almost bought a copy of Insider, the one with the cover of you in the black dress with the long sleeves." 

"Shut up," you laugh again, somewhere in between kisses. He’s talking about Soonyoung's new year's eve party, a few years back. You were getting out the back of a cab, alcohol-flushed and on a phone call with God knows who. "I still have it, you know. I could wear it for you one of these days." 

"Don't tempt me." Joshua kneels, bending down to undo your heels. You feel him press his lips to the back of your knee, your thigh. “Friday. Dinner?” 

“Done.” 

Then he stands back to full height and leans into you, just so you can feel him. Like clockwork, your skin prickles wonderfully even just thinking about blowing him in the back of the limo, that night he had held you down on his cock. 

Joshua must see how you squeeze your legs together. He pushes your slip up over the curve of your ass; you feel the rough of his hands over your skin, over the flimsy lace you have on for underwear. Then, before you can say a word, he pulls the waistband back, meanly, enough to tug on the hood of your clit, and lets it snap back against your skin. 

“Oh, fuck,” you keen. You had no idea you were so sensitive, but Joshua’s foreplay game was way better than you thought. “Please, Shua.” 

“Oh? So you like when I'm a little mean?” 

You watch your face in the mirror flush pink, your bitten lips fall open in surprise. He pulls tight on your panties again, loving how your eyes squeeze shut. 

“Maybe.” You pause, humiliated. Fuck it, the cat’s already out of the bag. “Yeah.” 

Joshua’s hands are warm, so warm, when they peel the fabric down your trembling thighs. 

“Legs apart, darling,” he tells you, mouth pressed to your shoulder. “So you like to boss me around the castle, but now you want me to tell you what to do? Is that so?” 

Before you can answer, you feel a finger along the seam of your cunt. You can’t see Joshua’s face in the mirror, but you can sure see yours, and you hate how even the smallest of touches has you drooling. Then a touch to your swollen clit, just rough enough to draw a gasp from you. 

 “I-it’s different,” you protest. Two fingers now, both rolling your clit under them. A whimper tumbles out of your chest, and your hips seem to be moving on their own accord. “Didn’t know you had…experience.” 

“Still not sure what made you think otherwise.” A quiet chuckle, then the slow, agonizing push of one of his fingers inside you. “Fuck, you love that, huh? Soaking my hand.”

“Yeah…” The vanity table suddenly feels too crowded to support the weight of your body, especially like this, as Joshua continues to work your clit with his other digit. Feeling your body surge again with heat, you push aside your makeup bag, all your stupid little bottles, so you can prop yourself up on your arms.

Another finger, and your legs are shaking. Quickly, he seems to have figured out how to hit your g-spot every time, every pump of his hand knocking into you just the way you like.  

“I think it was how annoying you were that did you in,” you finally answer, trying your best to put up a fair fight. “Kinda detracts from your sex appeal.” 

“Annoying?” Joshua asks, right up against the shell of your ear. like this, you can see him in the mirror, and it almost sends you over. the dark hair in his face, the insatiable look in his eyes. Then a third finger, and your eyes roll back. “Am I annoying you? Doesn’t really seem like it.” 

Your body answers for you. You feel yourself tighten around his fingers, fuck, you’re so close, you feel your head start to spin. You watch your reflection shake her head, glassy-eyed and dumb. 

He laughs cruelly. His free hand reaches up to find your tits, and, over the slip, he grabs one, rough like he’s a meaner man, like he’s slutting you out. 

At once, you feel the lightning heat of your release. You cry out, airy and high-pitched, and feel your body rock against Joshua’s as he pins you between himself and the vanity. 

“There you go,” he murmurs. His hand slows, letting you ride out your high, before he pulls out. “Wanted to do this ever since I kissed you that night.” 

“Which night?” you ask, catching your breath. A kiss to your shoulder blade, the nape of your neck. 

“The night you taught me to kiss. Or rather, tried to.” 

Ah, yes. The night you told him what Shark Tale was, and the night you made out for so long, you felt it on your lips in the morning. Dumb fucking Joshua, stupid and in love. The affection that surges through your body makes you mad. 

“You needed lessons.” 

“Not really, don’t you think?” 

“Bed. You’re talking too much,” you insist, turning around to see him. “Also, you’re wearing too much.” 

“Back to arguing with me, I see. Can’t stay away.” Joshua’s shit-eating grin prompts you to yank his tie impatiently, shutting him up. It comes off easily, just as his belt and the waistband of his slacks. (You weren’t about to let them best you a second time).

“Maybe ‘cause you find a way to be difficult about everything.” You wrinkle your nose, and Joshua’s grin only grows wider. “Don’t make me give you another order,” you warn, fully aware that since you guys got here, it’d been him doing the orders. 

You pull your slip over your head, now only in your bra, and lay back in the bed. You think of all the sleepless nights, then the ones spent talking, the ones in his arms. To think they would all culminate to this, to you now watching Joshua undo button by button with a desire unlike any other you’ve felt—it would almost be unbelievable if you weren’t doing it right now.

Like a striptease, you watch his chest peek out between the linen of his shirt. He's wearing a necklace today, one that settles meanly between his pecs. As he moves lower, you can’t help but notice the outline of his cock in his briefs, the spot of precum on the fabric. 

Traitorously, you feel your mouth water. The shirt comes off, and your lungs fill with another shaky breath. 

You know you’re both letting your freak flag fly (one of you more surprising than the other) but it’s in this moment, caught in the lamplight, that you realize how much things have really changed. Still, you’re not able to tell Joshua that this is the first time you’re sleeping with someone you might be in the L word with, but you think he sees it too, or at least, reads the look on your face. 

You feel the dip of the bed underneath as he joins you.

“Are you ok? That wasn’t too much, right?” 

“No, it was…it was good. really good,” you admit, feeling your face heat up again. “I just…I dunno. I like you a lot, that’s all.” 

“Hm?” 

“I—” you stutter, and your mouth freezes up again. “I said I like you a lot.” 

“Sorry, I just wanted to hear you say it twice.” He sees the dismay on your face and smiles. “Hm…I like you an adequate amount. On a good day.” 

Against your will, you crack the fattest smile you think your body is capable of. “You are the worst. The absolute worst, and I still want you to fuck me.” 

Upon hearing this, Joshua does not waste time. That he does—it isn’t long before he has your knees hiked to your chest, cock between your pussy lips. 

“Say you want it,” he whispers. You feel the cold kiss of his chain on your chest, the slick rock of his length between your legs. He's so hard, so big, your cunt already aches at the thought of it. 

“Want it.” Your voice comes out small, breathy. You would fight back, but you’re realizing you quite like this side of him. “Please.” 

When the head of his cock presses into you, there is no hiding. Already, you moan, sweet and loud, feeling the familiar pressure in your gut. 

“K-keep going,” you babble. Fuck, he barely fit in your mouth and now he’s stuffing your cunt. You wrench your eyes shut, listening to him talk you through it (—Look at you taking me so well. Feels good, huh? You’re so beautiful. Honestly, it’s a miracle Joshua’s ex never had a royal baby with how much they must have fucked.) 

Your second orgasm comes quickly, not long after Joshua bottoms out. He groans right in the space where your neck meets your shoulder, and it’s the best noise you think you’ve heard in your life. 

The third comes slowly, more intensely. With your knees to your chest, you think you can feel Joshua all the way in your stomach. Every stroke fucks the sound out of you, his cockhead right up against your g-spot as he fills you again and again. Sometime between orgasm two and three, he’s pulled your tits out from your bra, left marks across your chest. 

“Want you to touch yourself,” he tells you, voice low.

Mindlessly, you listen. One hand finds your nipple, the other your clit, and you let yourself get lost in the feeling. 

“F-feels good, Shua.” He enters you again, all the way, and the pleasure is white-hot. “O-oh, fuck,” you warble. 

“You’re so good at listening to me, you should do it all the time,” he murmurs. “There you go. Take it, take it, just like that. This must be what I have to do to get you to be nice, hm?” 

All you can do is stare up at him, positively fucked dumb, and take it, just as he told you to. One, two strokes, and you feel yourself get impossibly tight; “Fill me, need it, need it,” you whine, delirious. Everything from the look in his eyes, the flushed sweat over his brow, his collarbones to the way his expression responds with every word you say, makes you wonder why you wasted time fucking anyone else.

When he comes, he bites your shoulder, hard, and it’s what you need to follow soon after. You feel so fucking full, so satisfied, you think you could die happy here. 

Joshua flops down on the bed next to you, boneless. You think he’s about to say something akin to that you should have put a towel down, but he doesn’t. Instead, he pulls your body to him, lets you feel the warmth of his skin play against yours. 

He’s murmuring wonderful things to you, which you would gladly reciprocate if words weren’t coming to you one letter a minute. It’s not your fault though—you need to recover physically, emotionally, spiritually after getting the soul fucked out of you.

Then, “Me or you shower first?”

You groan as a response. 

“I’m serious.” 

“Together?” you offer weakly. 

“Fair chance we won’t just be showering then.” 

“Oh nooo.” 

That’s all Joshua needs to whisk you to the bathroom, where, indeed, he seems to be right yet again. 

—

The spring morning washes over Acros like a second skin. The birdsong rouses you; through the curtains comes sunlight from the garden, spackled on the wall as if spots on a doe. 

It’s been almost a year since your parents had told you that you were marrying Joshua Hong, prince of Acros. Six months since he had told you he had loved you. Two months since you and Jeonghan had pulled off your first joint production at the youth theater (a roaring success). One month since you were fully, fully moved in, Astrid and Jihoon included. 

After your engagement ball, you and Joshua had agreed to take it slow, as slow as two people who had very publicly announced their wedding could. But still, somehow your parents, both sets, could tolerate the two of you wanting to do things the right way. Perhaps they were still shocked things worked out as well as they did. 

“Morning,” you call out. The bed beside you is cold. “Josh?” 

You’re surprised he’s up. Last night, he went out with you, Somi, and Soonyoung. Somehow, he had drunk enough to get up and solo karaoke a Whitney Houston song, although you’re suspecting the alcohol was just a cover for his true intentions. 

Then you look out the window. You spot Joshua, seated on the bench overlooking the garden. This time of year, the roses are in full bloom, their bright heads reaching for the sky in brilliant red and gold. 

When you go to join him outside, he’s no longer at the bench. You actually don’t know where the fuck he went, but it’s no matter. Here, you’re able to appreciate the beauty of the season, the rolling green of the country you’re now calling home. 

It was also here where you had your first real conversation with Joshua without fighting, funnily enough. Now, you’d say the both of you were more agreeable, but that’d be a lie—somehow, you think you actually enjoy bickering with him, but that’s a conversation for another day. 

Behind you, someone (Joshua) clears his throat. 

“Now, what are you—” you say, spinning around. It was too damn early for games, but Joshua had no shortage of bad ideas. 

It’s then that you see Joshua behind you, on one knee. His smile tells you everything you have to know, and every thought in your mind freezes in an instant. 

“When I first saw you, I knew I would marry you,” he starts. That's a joke he’s probably been saving for months now, but instead of rolling your eyes, you can’t help but laugh, like you’re a broken soundboard. “No, really.” 

You stand there, immovable. Of course you had to be in your pajamas (his shirt and boxers, really), no makeup, hair untouched. And yet, you can’t imagine anything more perfect. 

“You drive me crazy,” Joshua continues. “In every way possible. I can't imagine life without your laugh, or your thinking face, or how you always need to have an answer for everything.” 

He produces a small box. It’s different from the first one, the one he used all those months ago when nothing mattered. Inside it, a new ring, something far simpler and more beautiful.

Joshua says your name, wonderful and reverent in his mouth. “Darling princess of Cotria, I'm asking you to marry me. Again.” 

And you say yes, for the very first time.

[END]

[cozysimschallenge]

Dear diary,

The squeamishness doesn't seem to be going away, so I think that it's just a thing I am now. Squeamish. Now that I think about it, I've had changes like that before too, when I change my life. I'm pretty sure that once upon a time I was able to live off of sunshine and the dirt under my feet. That's obviously no longer the case. It's hard to remember how I used to be before, in truth, when I've been alive for such a long, long time. My brain just doesn't hold all of it anymore.

I think perhaps my body evolves these traits quickly when I start over to impress some vital lesson or survival tactic into me. My squeamishness seems to mostly center around dirt and slimy things and smells. Often things I didn't think twice about before too. Perhaps it is trying to quickly get me used to modern cleanliness standards and protect me from the bacterial and viral base of a new place entirely.

I have to say, I really enjoy all the different soaps there are these days! Scents and different lathers! Different soaps for hair and the body, and conditioners for hair. I don't remember if my hair has ever felt this soft. Baths and showers are also so so commonplace in this day and age that I often have to tell myself that I don't need to have another bath ALL the time. We do need to pay for water after all, or any that we use that we haven't gathered ourselves.

I'm still quite busy, but I've finally heard from Pistachio! He should be arriving next week. I've been preparing for his arrival and making sure that the house is in good shape before then. I don't know why it's so important to me, he would and has slept with me under a thorn bush and a tarp in torrential rain... but this is Home now. My first home with him. I want it to be good. I want him to love it immediately.

Maybe I'm just worried about him still loving me and it's not at all about the house. I don't really know.

I've made a canopy over the chicken coop and the chicken enclosure for Pistachio's sake, and knocked out a bit of the porch railing to put up some makeshift stairs directly into the enclosure. I've also managed to set up some sun panels and wind turbines onto the roof to produce some electricity of our own, and a rain-water gatherer to catch water for our use. That last one at least is familiar to me as a concept, if a lot more high tech now. I don't even pretend to understand how the sun panels work, I'm just glad that they do.

In the time I haven't been working on the farm, I've picked up some new hobbies. I've picked up knitting, which I'm pretty sure I've done before and my hands remember, and Kim brought me her old radio (and explained it to me. I've had to tell her about my agelessness and she just laughed and said that it explained some things, but that was that). I've been transfixed listening to music! All the different types! Some of it hurts my ears and I can't get into it, but I've found a classical station, and a station - oh man, this one. Heavy music. It immediately grabbed me by the lungs and heart and Kim laughed when she saw my face when it came up. She offered to turn it off, but I told her no, that I love it. And I do.

She also asked me if, since I seem to love music, I wanted her old acoustic guitar (I didn't know there were other kinds), and I told her I would love it, but please let me pay for it. So she agreed to exchange it to a bunch of free honey she can either use herself or sell in her booth. I'm quite happy to trade that - I'm going to have more honey than I know what to do with. I've been learning to play since. I'm nowhere near good, but I'm slowly figuring it out and enjoy it a lot. My fingers are developing callouses, but that is also the hard work I've been doing.

I'm waiting for Pistachio to arrive before I think about a new surrogacy - I'm still recovering from the first physically, and I'd like to make sure that Pistachio would be okay with me doing that as well. When I'm by myself it's fine, but he's going to be living here! He's my boyfriend! He does have SOME say here, though I don't know what I'll do if he says no. I also want to just... take a little time to think about the first pregnancy and how it felt. I was so busy for a lot of it, that I don't think I really paid a lot of attention to that at the time. Physically or emotionally. I did enjoy it! I know that! And I don't know if there's anything I can compare with the feeling of handing over the babies to their parents and seeing their tears and laughs and smiles of pure joy and love. I want to see that again.

[cru5h-cascades]

Summer content plans (and other junk)!

Well, my dudes, I'm officially on summer break! Finally this hellish school year is over! Which means now I have more time to do stuff that I like!

Okay, so before I go over planned content and junk, here's a few things that I wanted to get out there: I'm planning on getting a job this summer, so this will most likely affect how much stuff I can churn out over the next few months. Or not. Depends on how long my shifts will be and how often I'm gonna be working for each week. In the end, I feel like maybe getting this job will defo pay off in the end because I NEED A NEW COMPUTER. There's no doubt about it. So, I'm gonna try to save up on cash I get from my potential job so I can get a better one (preferibly a 2-in-1 windows 11 computer so I can do more stuff than I could on my shitty ass chromebook). Also, with the money I do have right now, I plan on getting an electric guitar off of Amazon that I can afford with my current funds, so over the summer I'm gonna try to learn how to play guitar so I can make better music than ever before! I dunno if this will effect how often I'm gonna post tracks, but hey at least I'm not gonna be limited to the same 20-ish free electric guitar loops on soundtrap once I figure out how to play guitar!

Okay, so what content am I gonna release over the summer? Here's the stuff that I had in mind...

Calamity Circus! I've been planning to start writing this over the summer, and well I'm on break now so yeah! Maybe expect chapters to start coming out in a week or something (I need a breather after the school year I've had). I don't have any cover art for Calamity Circus yet (I wanna do another cover where I'm parodying cover art from some musician I listen to) (might do some parody art of one of Eminem's album covers; like maybe the cover art of Music to Be Murdered By or Encore) (seems pretty fitting for what is basically a "Side Order but chaos" type story; Eminem's songs can be the definition of chaos at times, after all)

Toyhouse updates! Right now, I'm waiting for a poll I posted some time ago to wrap up to see what I'm gonna add first (so far it looks like people want to see Winona's bio up on the Toyhouse) (I don't blame 'em tbh; I have a bunch of stuff about Winona out there that I haven't documented in a single page so yeah I defo need to start working on that). I'll be updating existing bios & adding new ones (specifically for Winter, 2-Spot/Regina, and Winnie, naturally)

TK Murder Triogy Essay! The 10-17 people who voted on the poll I made a while back have spoken! I'm making that essay! Dunno when, but I will!

Possible S3 Final Fest Story?! Depending on when the possible S3 Final Fest is happening, I will be making this story! The amount of chapters in this story will depend on how many days the final fest goes on for (supposedly it's 5 days, according to the datamines). If I had to guess, judging by the appearence of the Sand splatfest code & the whole jellyfish thing in the Sizzle Season trailer, I have a feeling that the final fest might happen in August (assuming that Summer Nights happens next month & we don't have a splatfest this month), so maybe expect this story by then (the date will be subject to changes since, as of writing this, we haven't gotten a date for this supposed final fest)

More art!

Music!

[steviespookiee]

﹒ ──── ✩ ！ !INTRODUCTION! ! ✩ ──── ﹒

｡ﾟﾟ･｡･ﾟﾟ｡ ﾟ。 🎞  ｡ﾟ Strawbunni☆

　ﾟ･｡･ﾟ

17 / She!her / RadFem / Bisexual 🎀

Joe keery ML♡♪ Sabrina Carpenter always `02.10`

.　 . • ☆ . Links! ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

Non currently!

Twitter: SOON!!

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

Hi, my names Strawbunni! (Or Strawb for short!)

(Like strawberry bunny🐰)

And this is my about me - some information about who I am and what I wanna post here on Tumblr!

I’ve been on Tumblr for half a year now, (Thanks to my best friend🩷) and the community is amazing! I’ve always been too scared to post or interact with people, but I want to start making friends and building a community of my own.

What will I post?

For now I will just post random thoughts I have, updates on certain celebrities (like new photos being posted, concerts ect.) Maybe some art projects, The Sims 4 content, Royale High stuff and reposting anything I find hilariously funny.

Eventually I want to start writing and posting my own fan fiction! Mostly Stranger Things! (it’s a special interest of mine.) some Supernatural, The Walking dead, POSSIBLY The Last Of Us if I can bring myself to play the game. (I’m too scared.) and a few other TV shows! So feel free to give me suggestions or requests for any fics you’d wanna see in the future, don’t be shy!

What are my interests/hobbies?

My BIGGEST hobby is gaming! As a kid I always played on my mums iPad, or my dad’s PS3, eventually my sister got an Xbox that I started using, and then I eventually got my own laptop! Which then for me into getting my own gaming computer. Here are a list of games I love and currently play! VVV

• Dead By Daylight

• The Sims 4

• VALORANT

• Overwatch

• Roblox

• Disney Dreamlight Valley

• Minecraft

• Resident Evil. (Leon Scott Kennedy😍).

Some other interests I have! VVV STRANGER THINGS! Like I previously said before stranger things is my special interest, i love it with all my heart, my room is CONSUMED by it and my life revolves around it and Steve Harrington. I love collecting funko pops, I have a shelf in my room that’s almost full of funkos! Most of them being stranger things!🤭 I have vinyls of the ST sound track, posters, framed photos, plushes. I recently went to Stranger things: The First Shadow - so I got a lot of merch and momentum’s from that. I also like Supernatual, Riverdale, Heartstopper B99, Dynasty, H20: Just Add Water, And so many more! 🎀 ———————— 🎀

Writing! 📝

I’ve always had a nack for writing and creative stories, that’s why I want to write fan fiction so much, combining two things I love, writing and imagination! Taking a TV show or a game and making it a world that exists and heals people, giving them happiness reading about their favourite characters and feeling a connection with them! It’s helped me through a lot and brings me a happiness I don’t get from anything else, what can I say? I’m delulu🤭. 🎀 ———————— 🎀

Guitar! 🎸

I’m currently learning how to play guitar, my friend is generously giving me free lessons, she’s also let me borrow her acoustic and electric guitar! I 100% prefer electric and want one of my own, I currently know TWO MITSKI songs that I learnt within my first lesson, in 4 hours. I’ve always wanted to learn to play but it looked so hard and I doubted myself, but once I gave it a go I realised I just have to try and keep going, and that beginning lesson was what I needed to jump start this hobby! :) 🎀 ———————— 🎀

Acting! 🎭

I’ve always loved acting, when I was 13 I used to do a lot of roleplay online, it’s not acting but it made me realise that I actually have an interest in that kind of stuff! I’m currently doing a Performing Arts course in college, which is going so well! I’m in the highest level and I got the lead in the Christmas musical! Sadly I had to give the role to someone else because I had too much course work to be able to learn the script in time, but it made me so happy knowing my skills were good enough and that I wasn’t wasting my time! Maybe I’ll get a job working on a movie and Joe Keery will be my characters love interest🤭! A girl can dream, right? 🤷‍♀️

If you made it this far, thank you for reading and I hope we get along well! Feel free to drop me a message, I don’t bite!😊 I hope that some of you stick around and help me work my way through the community, until next time, bye! 🩷

My bestie: @daryldixonsbub Go follow her! She’s supported me through so much and I absolutely love her to bits🩷

!DISCLAIMER! PHOTOS ARE NOT MINE, I GOT THEM OFF PINTEREST.

And thank you too @arson-fox, ML<3 for helping me edit the photos🐰

[perpetual-fool]

Violin Frets

I have a thing about frets, about them not being in tune. But there are other things about frets. You can't vibrato with frets, you can't slide (glissando) with frets. So it's weird that some of the higher-end electric violins have frets. But apparently frets on violin are not like frets on other instruments.

There are demonstrations of doing vibrato etc. on frets, but going by how frets are on guitar that really shouldn't work. Apparently, the difference is that violin frets are very small. Normally you'd press down behind the fret and the string would get pinched off by the little metal bar. But if they're really short you have to press on the fret directly, and there's no reason you couldn't roll your finger more forward or back on it. Slides are still going to sound a little weird, probably. But is that really a problem? Like, people do glissando on piano and that thing can't bend notes at all. So it's really more like a tactile version of those little stickers beginners use; it doesn't really tell you where the note is, but it gets you close.

So then, why? You'd probably assume it's like guitar and that they keep you in tune. But they don't, you still have to tune by ear. But it does make it easier. Supposedly there are people who'd object to that being a valid reason? But why? to give you something to feel superior about? That's stupid. Anyway, also apparently that's very important/useful in loud settings where you may not be able to hear yourself. So like, in a traditional orchestra where everyone's playing acoustic instruments that's never going to happen, you're always going to hear yourself the loudest. But if you're doing a rock concert or something with the drums pounding behind you, you may not. Also would be significant if you're deaf. It doesn't make any sense to me why a deaf person would be a musician, but I've heard of at least one. And I guess there's novelty, experimentation, and in my case, refinement? I'm not really sure what my deal is. But for instance, five-string viola seems to be able to do everything a violin and standard viola can do, and gives up nothing to achieve that. So having one would feel personally satisfying for some reason.

And hypothetically, this opens up some possibilities for bass. Not guitar, since you still wouldn't be able to do chords with semi-frets. But fretted basses are cheaper and easier to get than fretless ones. And particularly, I want a multi-scale fretless, which essentially does not exist. But if I can just file down the frets then I can achieve the same effect, and I don't have to learn how to make guitars myself to do it. Though I'm sure I will learn on a long enough timeline.

- Tangent: it's hard to know what to pursue. I guess more fundamentally the issue is that I don't have the information necessary to solve the problem. In this case, I have limited time/energy/resources and multiple things I could spend it on. So, should I pursue bass things or should I pursue viola things? I could say that currently I have a bass but no viola, so the viola would have a more profound effect on increasing the amount of things I can do. Or I could say that working on bass would get me closer to resolving the bass problems, and getting a viola would open up a host of new problems. Although I suppose all of it is in service of trying to solve the 'living' problem. So I guess what I'm really after is the most accessible way to make the good brain juice.

But at what point am I supposed to be happy? Like, suppose I just save up the $1.4k for a Glasser 5-string. Problem solved? It still has the fragile wooden bridge, it still has the friction-fit tuning pegs, it still doesn't have any strap/harness system to avoid causing TMJ or neck problems. Okay, instead let's say I save up $2.7k for a five-string Viper. And for the example let's just say the amp and whatever else came with it for free. The problem is now solved. Then what? I move on to new problems?

Maybe this is all a consequence of believing I'm bad/not good enough. Like I'm looking for problems to fix, and finding them. But it's never enough.

I'm probably approaching this all wrong. There is this dumb thing I kind of feel good about. The problem initially was that I had a wooden cooking utensil soak up a bunch of beef fat, which then smelled strongly of beef and attracted ants despite numerous washings. So wood (some worse than others) has open pores, and I need to pre-fill those pores to prevent the utensils from becoming gross. Something like mineral oil is useless as it just washes off, and wax melts if you actually cook anything with your utensil. It would have to be a drying oil, or at least cured. I did try 'seasoning' wood as you would with cast-iron, just at a really low temperature. It seemed to work though it substantially weakened the wood. So the better option seemed to be an oil that dries on its own. The options and pros and cons aren't relevant to my point, I settled on using flax oil. For testing, I got a set of cheap wooden spoons, which I then shaped and sanded so they're smooth and not terrible. Then I started with the flax oil. The procedure is also not relevant to my point. I now have several very thin coats on these things. They are so smooth to the touch, but I can still feel the wood under my fingertips. It doesn't feel like it's coated in plastic. And all of the grain is starting to shine like medullary rays in quarter-sawn lumber. It's nice. It makes me happy?

Why? because it feels nice? because it looks pretty? Yeah. I feel some kind of way about that. Beauty?

I have not felt this way in a very long time. And never freely. I really am tired of making everything about her. But this is how she made me feel. This is the world I wanted and could never have. To me, she was beauty itself. Shall I compare thee to a wooden spoon?

Still, beauty is very difficult to achieve. I'm still me, I'm not a picky perfectionist for nothing. Everything grates on me. Everything falls apart if I look too closely. The only things I'm going to be happy with are things I've made myself, to my own standard. Of which I am not yet capable. I suppose I could break it down into smaller pieces. Like, I can't build my perfect bass yet, nor am I experienced enough to know that would entail. But I could find good strings for it. And then I could fit a new nut that's not worn out. And then I could adjust the saddle height. And then I could flatten the fingerboard. And eventually those little pieces should add up to something more.

Also, I suppose that sentiment of things falling apart should extend to her as well. Which feels.. cruel? Though it's hard to be sure, it wasn't until long after that that I determined I can't be the one who's wrong. What I'm about to say almost feels like too much of a stretch, but I think that's moreso because I'm not sure how to explain it. So, her music was flat, and generic, and poorly phrased. And that very much fits the pattern of what I've seen with music education. I know damn well she has things to express, but it's like she doesn't have her own voice to say it in. But it seems like the same kind of thing happens with communication. It's like people aren't ever really themselves, they're only ever performing a role they learned from someone else. And when understanding me, they shoehorn whatever I'm saying into one of those roles. That's where things fell apart. I was desperate to get past that, and I felt like it was my fault for not being able to figure it out. And if she were really the angel I believed she was, she would have seen that something was terribly wrong from the very beginning.

And I really don't know what to think about that. My impression is that people must be messed up in much the same way I was. That really there are wonderful, beautiful people buried in there that can't get out or don't feel safe. And sort of like problems in my household, it's not that the things that bother me aren't problems for others too, it's just that I'm the one who notices. But if they're in there, I've never been able to find them. Though some people seem quite nice so long as I don't look too closely.

[journeytodrawiii]

Are you named after anyone? Well, yes, kind of. My first name is the name of the siren of the river Rhine. My middle name is also an amalgamation of my grandmother and godmother's middle names.

When was the last time you cried? Last week. Grades and various assignments stressing me out, mostly.

Do you have kids? No, I don't. But I would love to one day, I think. Either way, I won't have to worry about that for a long while. My dog however is like my little baby and I love him very very much.

What sports do you play/have you played? When I was a wee thing I did ballet for a while, and then — after all of my friends went away — I tried gymnastics, which I happened to really enjoy. They wouldn't advance me however, no matter how good I got, because I didn't speak Dutch at the time. Now I'm fluent, take that suckers. Anyway, after quitting that I joined a swim team (for racing). I eventually left because my fellow teammates were rather cruel to pick up snorkelling before encountering eye issues and having to get out of the water for a while. Then along came a tailbone issue I needed a surgery for and by the time I could get back in the water two years had passed. I haven't joined any sports teams since, it's been four or five years (I forget). But I enjoy playing badminton with friends, I walk often, I go to the gym on occasion and if I'm feeling really brave I go for runs.

Do you use sarcasm? No. Never. I totally, one hundred percent of the time am suuuuper serious. ;)

What's the first thing you notice about people? Their energy, like their vibe. Not just in that moment, but from their overall mannerisms and outward appearance a rough idea of who they could be. I also notice shoes. Shoes can tell you a lot about a person, I think.

What's your eye color? Bright blue. I'm like that meme where people with blue eyes stare at you all the time like: O.O

Scary movies or happy endings? I LOVE me a good scary movie, some of that really freaky psychological stuff is toe die for. Happy endings are great, but I also love it when a story ends terribly. It just leaves a bigger impact most of the time.

Any talents? I'd say I'm really quite good with anything visually creative. Painting, designing, fashion, drawing. I do pretty well with that kind of thing, interior design too. I've been told I'm a good writer too. Languages come a bit easier to me than to others as well, words just stick easier and my feel for language is rather keen.

Where were you born? Maryland, U.S.A.

What are your hobbies? I love drawing and painting. Sometimes I make mini sculptures out of clay, but that is seldom. I write poetry and I'm working on a novel I've named "Exodus; Prologue" . On top of that I enjoy journaling, writing my accounts of any day I feel needs to be recorded. I collect materials for a scrapbook I've barely started... unfortunately. 😂 I just never make the time. I ADORE thrifting, and I like to go at least once every three months. I listen to music every second I can, exploring new artists and discovering new feelings. Speaking of the discovery of feeling, and self, I am part of a little philosophy club where we discuss whatever we like and occasionally debate topics of excerpts from famous philosophers. I play the piano, and I'm also learning bass and electric guitar. I enjoy singing, although I'm not great. Knitting is also something I've been interested in lately, but I haven't really made anything. Oh, I'm also in the process of making a short film starring myself and a few dear friends, and watching films and learning and absorbing is another passion of mine. And I've been learning Welsh and Spanish for a few months now. So, you know, I keep myself busy.

Do you have any pets? I sure do! My baby boy, Loki! He's a toy schnoodle (poodle and schnauzer mix). He'll be turning eight years old this year, he's becoming a grumpy old man, but I love him to death.

How tall are you? Pocket sized: 5'2" or as I'd say 160 cm

Favorite subject in school? Art and philosophy.

Dream job? I'd love to become a widely appreciated author one day, writing books. I'd also love to write and direct movies or TV shows. If given the opportunity I'd love to spend the rest of my life making art or acting, embodying art. That's who I'd like to become one day.

@echeveriaaa thanks for tagging me on this lovely post! It was fun to do!! Sorry for getting back so late, I've been absolutely swamped with tasks.

15 Questions for 15 Friends

Thank you @serpent-and-seraph for tagging me!!

Are you named after anyone? My first name is just something my mom liked, but I got a middle name after my aunt's (who was one of the kindest people ever and who means a lot to me, so it's nice to sort of have something from her with me at all times)

When was the last time you cried? Some time last week due to being stressed by exams. And watching the last episode of Inside Job. (Leave it to me to only be able to express sadness with the help of animated sitcoms)

Do you have kids? No, but I have a niece and a nephew who I adore unconditionally

What sports do you play/have you played? I've done martial arts for most of the last 10 years and enjoy the occasional football/volleyball game for funsies. At the moment I mostly do solitary exercise for my zoomies and mental health though

Do you use sarcasm? Noo, never. (wink)

What is the first thing you notice about people? I thinkkk the way they look at me. Also, hair.

What’s your eye colour? brown

Scary movies or happy endings? Scary movies that end happily.

Any talents? I have an affinity to Visual-Artsy-Stuff (even though I'm not the most skilled at it, but I suppose that is not the most important thing about it) and people tell me I'm good at listening

Where were you born? Northern Germany

What are your hobbies? drawing & painting, sports, reading, caring for my plants, walking around in nature and staring at cool animals/clouds/trees, singing (badly) when I'm stressed, going feral over movies/shows/other people's art, hiding in my room and get cozy (that counts right)

Do you have any pets? I have plants ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

How tall are you? 5'4" / 1,65m

Favourite subject in school? Art and Biology

Dream job? Partly working as a neuropsychologist and partly in research (and secretly writing and illustrating insane little books)

Since I haven't been back on Tumblr for long, I don't really know that many people yet/anymore, so I'd like to use this to get to know some of you a little! If you're feeling like it !! :)

@deansgapjacket @secretlywingedphantom @marikacrea @chenfordsrollisi @journeytodrawiii @skylightangels

[damonjuicyscock]

The New singer-Chapter 1

Pairing: Dilf! Damon Albarn X Reader

Warnings: Language, maybe a few spelling mistakes (but as always, I hope not)

Words: 3094

A/N: Hello ! Here I am with this new fanfic with Dilf Damon ! Hope you'll like it. Smut will come sooner in this fan fic (On the fourth one). Enjoy !

My name is Y/N Y/L/N, I moved in London in 2012 when I was 18 to try to finally start a career in what has always been my passion: Music. I think I probably started singing when I was still in my father’s balls, because as far as I know, even my close friends always knew me singing. I was even singing so much that sometimes, people had to tell me to shut up. My parents were born in the 60’s and 70’s, respectively from hippie parents, and themselves became hippies. That’s why I was raised listening to some Jefferson airplane, The Doors, The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, Janis Joplin, Jimi Hendrix… But also with music like Depeche Mode, Duran Duran, Tears For Fears, Oasis, Blur, Radiohead, Nirvana… Anyway, I was raised listening to some good stuff

Before telling how it all began, let’s talk about my absolutely not normal parents, who created who I am today. When they met in 1991, my mum was in total New Wave emo mode. Ya know, like Robert Smith from The Cure? Well, nearly the same haircut, with some new romantic clothes like in the early 80’s. My dad was kinda punk and tried to look like some 1986 Dave Gahan. Them and their music taste met, and boom, 2 years later, here I was. 5 years later, my sister joined us. A real troublemaker, but a very good dancer, that’s what she is. When I was 6, they enrolled me in a music conservatory. It was a pain in the ass. But I learned a lot, even how not to sound like a nowadays Mariah Carey who has a lot of voice issues when singing. Why? Because my singing teacher made me sing some opera, so I sound more like an Amy Lee from Evanescence who can sing everything except some hardcore metal. At 15, I said bye bye to the conservatory to focus on my studies without having to care about anything else. I kept practicing every day, alone. But I also started to learn to play guitar on my own after discovering a fabulous Muse song called “Knights Of Cydonia”. I loved rock and had the fashion style that came with it. I wasn’t a girl coming from the city, I grew up in a small town where not a lot of people knew about some singer or band… London was the cradle of New Wave, Glam rock, also some punks if you forget a minute about the US and Germany. London had great artists; it was worth trying my luck in here. And only after 2 years of hardworking and trying my luck in pubs and other, with my mic, my acoustic guitar and my electric guitar, I signed with Universal. Oh, I was going to forget about the most important part. I said previously that I was raised listening to some good stuff like Blur. Well, I’m a big fan, but also a Gorillaz fan and a Damon Albarn fan. This man is talented, has a really beautiful voice, he’s a model to me. I can’t deny the fact that yeah, he was and is still a lot attractive. And that’s in 2016 that I knew how much, when he tried to get in touch with me.

Late 2016:

My phone rang. It was my best friend and also manager Thomas.

-Oi Tom!

-Oi Y/N, are you available right now?

- Well, you woke me up, but yes, why?

- I have something really important to tell ya. Can you meet me at the Starbucks coffee near Carnaby Street please?

- Well now that I’m awake yeah, when?

- Well let’s count you and me taking the underground… let’s say an hour?

-It’s okay with me, see ya!

I hang up and went to put some clothes and makeup on, tying my hair in a simple braid before picking my sunglasses, my bag, and locking my front door before going.

But once outside, I saw someone taking a picture. Another fucking pap, trying to have his pictures of the day. I was acting funny with them at the beginning, making pouts to troll their pictures, but after nearly two years of them tracking me, I was starting to be fed up. So, at this very moment, I decided I couldn’t control my middle finger anymore, and imitated Chris Pratt in the Guardians of the galaxy, before putting a big smile on my face. Yeah, okay. I was still trolling them in a way.

I entered the underground station, going to the Oxford Circus station. From here, I walked to the Starbucks coffee in Great Marlborough Street. Tom wasn’t here yet. So to recap, this idiot calls me because he has something urgent to tell me, and doesn’t bother to be on time. I was even afraid I was the one to be late!

For your information, He arrived 43 minutes after.

-Oi lovely, sorry for being late. He said out of breath

-Oi sir let’s-meet-in-an-hour, traffic jam? Oh no, sorry, you took the train, What the fuck were you doing?

-Masturbating. He answered sarcastically

-Verry funny Tom. Well, I’m used to you being late anyway, you are even capable to be late for your own birthday party you dumb fuck.

-It was 13 years ago Y/N. I am an important man since I’m your manager.

-And it goes to your head. Isn’t it supposed for the artist to be the one who becomes big-headed?

-S’not like I’ve never been before…

-maybe, but it’s getting worse. I interrupted him

-ANYWAY!

-What’s so urgent then?

-There’s… some singer who contacted me because he’s interested on your music, and he would be glad to collaborate with you on a song. He would like for you to sing the backing vocals on it.

- Oh cool! Who is it?

-Damon Albarn.

I spat my tea back in the paper cup and coughed.

-WHAT?

-Yup, I knew you would react like this.

- Damon Fucking Albarn wants me to do the vocals on one of his songs?

-Actually, I don’t have a lot of details ‘bout that, he just called and left me his number.

- He called himself? Not his manager?

-No, Damon Albarn himself.

- Then I guess I have to do the same and call him back by myself like a grown-up girl.

-You sure?

- I have to.

-As you wish, But as I know you by heart, I know you’ll get really nervous.

He was definitely right, but it was like pouring oil on the flames, so my only reaction was to slap him on the shoulder.

-Shut up Tom!

He laughed

- I also knew you would do that. I’m leaving you his number then?

- Of course you do! I answered

- Okay. Oh also, before I forget, Glastonbury, Reading, Lollapalooza and Coachella wants you.

- What are the dates?

he took out his little notebook from his pocket

-Glastonbury from June 21st to the 26th, Reading August 25th to 27th, Lollapalooza July 22nd and 23rd, Coachella April 14thto 23rd.

- Say yes to all of them and negotiate with Coachella. They have to give me a date that is before April 20th.

-Why?

- I’m taking my dear mama on a trip to celebrate her birthday in Mauritius. Thought I already told ya.

-You did, I just forgot to take a note.

He handed me a little piece of paper

-Here’s Kellogg’s all-bran’s number

-Hey, respect him!

He laughed again

We finished drinking our tea, talking about the coming gigs, our lives, and also about me writing my new album.

*

Tom had been right. I was on a verge of a panic attack before calling him. This man was all I admired, he was one of my favourite artists and definitely my idol. He had accomplished a lot in nearly 30 years. And I was so honoured, but didn’t understand why he wanted me, the new singer, to collaborate with him. I would be really lucky to work with him. I decided to light myself a cigarette before pressing the call button.

-Hello? I heard a male voice say dryly

-Hello, is this mister Albarn?

-Huh, yes?

-Hello… I’m…I’m Y/N Y/L/N, you called my manager Thomas. He… He said you wanted to get in touch with me?

His tone changed to a happy one

- Oh hi Y/N! How are you? Yes, I called your manager. Listen, I'd really like to work with you on a song for the upcoming Gorillaz album, you have a lot of talent, and after listening to your songs, I knew you would be perfect for a song.

- It would be a great pleasure to work with you! When do you want us to meet? I asked

- When are you free?

- Tomorrow if it’s okay with you, my remaining gigs are only in two weeks, so I have a bit of time.

- You seem like a hard worker, I like it! I’ll be at the studio at 11 am, can you be there by 11:30?

- I’ll be there!

- Alright. I can’t wait to finally meet you! oh and please, bring your guitar.

- Huh which one? Electric or acoustic one?

- The acoustic one, we have plenty of electric ones at the studio, and you wrote the best songs with it.

- Okay. Huh, could you just give me the address please?

- Of course! I was going to forget about that. I have an old man’s brain. I’ll text it.

- Okay.

- See you tomorrow then Y/N.

- See ya!

He hang up first, and I jumped in joy around my living room, until I heard someone knock at the ceiling. Fuck, I forgot I had neighbours. I decided to call Thomas.

-Did you call him? he said when answering

- I did, we meet tomorrow, I’m just waiting for him to send the address now.

- Well count at least 10 minutes before receiving it, he has a Nokia 3310.

- Stop mocking him mate! I know he doesn’t really like technology and he’s far from being wrong! Apart to work, I don’t have a lot of technological stuff myself.

-Said the one who’s addicted to social medias.

-I’m not addicted! it’s part of my work.

- Never mind, I’m happy you can meet him this quick. Oh I also called Coachella, you’ll be on stage on the 16th at 7pm.

*

The next day, I was on my way to the studio, but I was stopped a few times by fans who wanted to take a picture with me or for an autograph. Happily, I left early to arrive early. When I finally arrived at my destination, I was welcomed by Jamie Hewlett himself.

-Hello young lady. I suppose you are Y/N?

- I am. Mister Hewlett. Nice to meet you, I adore your work.

- Thank you miss. And call me Jamie, you’re my co-worker now. Damon is waiting for you in the other room. We’ll see each other during lunch.

-Alright, thank you co-worker, see you during lunch!

I took a deep breath before entering in the other room and I saw him. Last time I truly saw him was during a live near my place and I was only 5 years old. Yeah, my parents took me to a Blur gig in 1999, and my mum was a lot pregnant with my sister. But even if I was this young, I knew their songs by heart and had one of the best times of my life. Not every parent would do that.

- Hello… I said shyly

- Ah here she finally is! I was impatient to finally meet you Y/N! He said turning to look at me

He came towards me and went to hug me. I was a bit surprised; I didn’t expect that. But it was his way to welcome people. A pure sweetheart. I also had been told he was a simple and humble man.

- I was impatient to meet you too mister Albarn!

- Oi, there’s not mister Albarn with me love, call me Damon.

- Okay Damon. I wouldn’t like for you to think I talk too much but I feel it’s important for me to say that you are one of my favourite artists and inspirations, and that I’ve been dreaming of this collab since…well…forever. I said, with an embarrassed smile

- I’m glad to have such a meaning for you. Oh, you brought the instrument that creates such beautiful songs!

- Yup, here it is

I pulled my guitar out of its case.

- It’s a beautiful Fender you have here. Can I try it? he asked

I handed him the guitar

- Be careful, it’s my baby. I joked

He looked at me and pretended he was about to let the guitar fall on the ground.

- No worries, it’s in safe hands. He answered winking at me

God, he was going to be the death of me.

He started playing one of my songs to test the sound my guitar had, and I blushed.

- Didn’t know you even knew my songs by heart! I chuckled slightly

- - I’m your number one fan! He answered

- Oh… sorry to disappoint you, but my mum actually is.

- I’m the number two then!

- That’s adorable. Okay… should we start working?

- Absolutely young lady! Before we start, would you like a cup of tea? or maybe a coffee?

- No thank you Damon, but it’s really nice of you to ask.

We worked for about an hour and a half on a melody, and when Damon heard me singing the vocals, he decided that finally, I would sing on the whole song. What started as a collab would end up as a duet. It would be a featuring. No sorry, I’d be singing with 2D, but it means the same thing to me.

Lunch came, an occasion to get to know everyone, even if I was the one who had been the most questioned.

- So, Y/N, tell us about you! Jamie said

- Well, what do you want to know?

- Where you grew up, our childhood, your love for music… this kind of stuff. He answered

- Oh! Well, I grew up at first in the south of France where my mum was working as a college teacher, she’s teaching ethology. So, it’s like I was a bit French. I speak the language fluently. We came back in England when I was about 5. On the second part of my childhood, I grew up in a town around Dover, So I was going back to France often. I even studied there in high school; I was in a high school in Calais. I have a French baccalaureate, with a music speciality.

- Interesting! you may have heard of my wife then! She’s a French actress. Jamie said

- Emma De Caunes? Of course, I only saw her in one movie, but the family who was hosting me during my high school years were often watching extracts of a formal TV show her father was in. It was really funny. I even saw the extract when she called him live to tell him she graduated from High school!

- What movie did you watch? Jamie asked

- Mr Bean’s Holiday. In this movie you can even see the city where I grew up in the first part of my childhood.

- Cannes? Damon asked

- Nope, Avignon. It’s sunny and beautiful when you are in the old town. People are really nice in there.

- And so, where does your love and talent for music comes from? Jeff, the guitarist asked

- As far as I can remember, I was three, and three songs made me fall in love with music. There’s Beetlebum by Blur, Stand By me by Oasis and Bittersweet symphony by The Verve. I grew up with parents who loved the new romantics era, New Wave and Britpop. I was singing a lot and my parents decided to send me to a music conservatory to take voice classes. It was their way to tell me “We like you when you sing, but you’re singing too much and you’re giving us a headache”. My singing teacher mainly taught me how to sing opera. But I can thank her today, because she is the one who gave me all the right techniques. After graduating from high school, I came in London to try my luck and here I am today. Also, my parents took me to a lot of gigs.

- Which ones? Damon asked

- My first one was Blur in 1999, then I got to see Tears for Fears, Oasis, Gorillaz, Depeche Mode, The Cure, New Order…There is actually a lot!

- Wow, that means you were like 5 when you saw us live with the guys?

- Yup. You sang a particular version of B.L.U.R.E.M.I.

- The danger of drugs. Jamie said

Damon threw him a dark look

- I was so little, but I can still remember I had one of the best times of my life!

- Well, I’m glad you did. Damon answered

- Who are your inspirations Y/N? Jamie asked

- As you can tell, I’m a lot into rock. I’d say many artists from different eras. Probably some David Bowie, Joan Jett, Blondie, The Clash, Oasis, Blur, Nirvana, The cure, The Smiths, U2, INXS… there’s so much. Oh, and also Queen. I’ve always been in love with Freddie Mercury’s voice.

- And you’ve probably been fancying Roger Taylor like every girl. Jamie added

I blushed

- I absolutely don’t know what you’re talking about.

Damon laughed seeing me blushing

- ‘S nothing love, we understand. He said

- I had the privilege to meet Brian May, he is really a nice man.

- And so… yesterday, you told me on the phone you had a few gigs left? Damon asked

- Yes, in Paris and here, in the U.K.

- Does it mean you’ll be back in the studio for some more masterpieces?

- I’ll be back in the studios yes. Don’t know yet if it’s going to be a masterpiece though. I have a few ideas, like a ballad, but here, I have no idea where to start.

- I can help you. Well only if you want to. The singer said

- Really? I said, sparks appearing in my eyes

- Of course! I’d love to! he answered