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sanscee · 3 hours ago

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alright im here........ and i have an emotional support drink and plushie. let's go.

(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.)

already off to a great start. never mind the fact that our relationship with jeonghan is so so fragile………………. ‘i always have time for you’ like ok. Ow,

“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.

snort count: one

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.

hid my face in my hands dear god please end my mortal suffering

“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.”

STOP is this what i think it is. lily please have mercy on me you can make me envision him in a Damp White Tee and then throw sentimental gift giving right after. lily fifth member of aespa giving people whiplash

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.

and so we cried, whatever. i want to kiss him until we both bruise sorry SORRY sorry i’ll move on SORRY

“Have you ever been in love before?” [ … ] 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.

world fuckig stop. LILY. after all the bickering and heartless jabs that weren’t really heartless, just protective of their own heart in their own devastatingly human way… we finally have This. and honestly i dont know how to put into words how i had to stare at the wall for a long time after this. of course you would be guarded about your heart you’ve never felt the pull of being genuinely in love with someone. and of course he would be guarded with his heart he’s already been in love and had to break her heart because of his position in life. ‘because it would mean that it didnt end in vain’ i swear we were all just thinking about joshua in a Damp White Tee. these are not tears its the perspiration from the steamy bathroom shut up

“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.

snort count: two

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.

ohhmymjfhhyyyygioooddddddddimgonnedieeniebwekam,l[br,b;.,3420332-0p2l3;.

Stupid, stupid boy, you think.

knees: weak. head: spinning. throat: ridiculously emptysOrrySORRy

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

head so good the prince forewent his precious pocket square…….. new aspiration in life. are you even giving good head if he doesn't sacrifice his pocket square

“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.”

oh this is about to get so sad

“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.”

eberyone fucking stop oh my gof get out. bc we didnt even have a choice until the person we are doing this for presents the opportunity of choice. we were merely collateral bc we wanted to have normal experiences any other twenty-something would have had. fuck our parents btw for tossing the arranged marriage as a means of kicking us to the curb! reader is better than me and this is why this is call fanfiction instead of realstory <3

“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.

this is what i mean when i say u just get me like. only he would say stupid corny shit like this. the banter is always like you’ve been married for thirty six years. did i say i would give him heirs already

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

only you could make me emotional over socks god i am getting old

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.

snort count: three, but also like is this a real experience wfbeuifbejkfnj rhis is too specific i laughed out loud

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

WORLD FUCKINIFSNJ STP OMG

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.”

just let out a sound akin to a dying animal this is no big deal this is fine this is completely fine like its not like hes letting himself stand up for the love he grew to genuinely appreciate despite the differences like ‘i wont like you take another girl i love away from me. not again.’ SJUT THE FUCK UP GO AWAY IM AO SAD

“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.”

everyone needs a yunjin in their life ive decided. where’s my Emotional Support Yunjin.

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.

anyway.

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.

totally fine and normal and sane about this. this is Fine

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

giggleskegeguejeueheueeiieehrehohmygofjrhegevw

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

alexa play falling for you from the teen beach movie soundtrack 😭🤍

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.

OH MGRY GOD ITS HAPPENDINF EVERYBODY STAY CALM

"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?”

there is something so intimate abt a man on his knees made even more hot by him taking of your shoes idk what it is but i eat it up every single time

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

bitch shut up i just shrieked GET AWAY FROM MEAND THEN THE ‘legs apart, darling’ CAN I LIVE GWT OUT OF MY HEAD 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

“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.”

i am going to be ohhsicslly ill

"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.)

spread it open and flick the beansORRY SORRY

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.

I AN GLITNG TO BE PHSGICALLY ILLLLLRKEKW

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

speaking from beyond now. i’ve died.

“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?”

banging my head against the wall in 4K ultra HD

“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.”

im going to crh oh my god

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 BERY FORST TIME 😭😭😭😭😭 genuinely don’t even know how to even move on like. their relationship growing from seemingly despising each other to deeply understanding each other’s feelings and personalities and the content of their hearts ☹️☹️☹️

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. smut tags: oral (m!receiving), mirror shenanigans, unprotected sex, softdom!shua, mating press, idk. they're in love your honor. [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.

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.

—

[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.

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.

“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.

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.

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.”

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.

—

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 sweet 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.

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]

#i literally don’t trust joshua with anyone else after this like this is it ……………….. u just ultimately Get It™️#hhhhhnnnhghgjkhdj. you know #recs

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northwest-cryptid · 7 months ago

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You know what, no I'll go on record and just say that;

Mabinogi hands down IS the best MMORPG.

Now sure, you can immediately call me bias; and I can literally tell you that is an overused argument. Truth is, yes I have a bias, I have a bias as someone who has played literally hundreds of MMOs, and has never found one that can hold a candle to Mabinogi. Yes this includes games like WoW or FFXIV, and even lesser known but still popular titles like Path of Exiles or Warframe or even Tree of Savior.

But why exactly do I say that Mabinogi is the best MMORPG on the market? Well I think a good MMORPG does a few things, firstly I think any game that wants to be an RPG that lets you make a character needs to give you a sense of identity. Second, I believe an MMO needs to create an interesting environment for playing alongside others; whether they're directly in your party or not. Lastly, no good RPG is complete without going on a grand adventure with proper noticeable growth.

Now, before we begin to really dive into this essay of a post, I want to cover something real quick because I think it's important. When I say Mabinogi is the best MMORPG, and I'm saying that I've played games like WoW or FFXIV. I'm not trying to say those games are bad. I will concede that direct translation and definition would suggest I believe they are "worse" than Mabinogi, and yes I do believe that. However I'm not trying to tell you that your favorite MMORPG is bad or garbage or whatever. Please do not take my personal opinion to be slander of your favorite game. For a lot of players, an MMORPG can be special to them, the characters and the world can mean something to them; and I don't want to be some hater when it comes to your favorite place on the internet.

I'm not coming into this as someone who's naive about the world of MMOs, I know the good and the bad of them, not ALL of them; but a good lot of them. However I want to make something clear; if I went into why other games were "worse" than Mabinogi I would immediately be ignored. Let's say you really like FFXIV, that's fine; it's a good game, I play it myself and am excited about the latest expansion coming out in a few days. Now if I tell you that I think it's kind of ridiculous how much they've simplified the game to the point no class feels truly unique mechanically, or how I used to like AST more before they took away our card's uniqueness and such. It's entirely possible you would stick with me and understand that, even if our opinions differ; what I'm saying is true to me even if it's not to you. Sure maybe you hated having RNG in the RNG healer class, maybe you disliked having to decide if you wanted to spread that buff to the whole party, or enhance that buff for one person, or extend the buff. Maybe you like it more now that everything sort of does the same thing. I'm not talking down to you or being sarcastic when I say, that's fine. We just feel differently about it. Thing is, I've very likely lost you; It's unlikely you hear all of that and not think I'm just some FFXIV hater. I'm not, but it's unlikely you think that way after hearing all my gripes with it. I wouldn't blame you for thinking someone who just tore into a game likely dislikes the game, that's a fair assumption.

If at any point I do sort of dig into a game for it's changes, mechanics, or just how it works. I want you to understand I only feel that way because I do enjoy those games and wish they didn't do things that made playing them feel less fun to me. Those last two words are possibly the most important there; this whole post is strictly opinion, it's my opinion. We don't need to share that opinion, but I hope you find what I say to be at least interesting. I don't see much reason to sit through the whole thing otherwise.

Oh... and one more thing, if you follow this link and download the game now it should be done roughly by the time you finish reading this, probably; maybe? <- That's not even an affiliate link; I'm not sponsored to say anything I'm saying here, I wish I was though.

Game Website Link -> Right here, if you need to make an account.

Now without further delay, let's get into my first key point of why Mabinogi is the best MMORPG on the market right now.

The first order of business in any MMORPG will also be the first thing we talk about here, creating a character. You can't step foot into a world of fantasy without having an avatar to represent yourself. If this individual is to be your fantasy self then the game better have enough customization options to really let you be you. Mabinogi has plenty, from skin color, player weight, and even age; to the colors of the garments you wear.

Let's start with that first bit I mentioned in the introductory paragraph, creating an identity. Mabinogi is a game that truly allows for a diverse cast of characters, when you first make a character the system will unfortunately be fairly limited. Yet when you're released into the game proper and complete the tutorial you will soon find that it's extremely open ended. Your character will start at an age between 10 and 17 (but can go to 25 and even further if you wish), which you'll be able to select once per day, or once per week depending on your level. Age has a very slight almost non-existent effect on your stats, but will mostly determine how tall you are. As a quick example, here is my human main at 18 (left) alongside 2 other players. While I cannot see their age, I can tell their race is human; which allows me to at least guess one is roughly 10 - 13 (middle) and the other is likely anywhere between 15 - 16 (right).

When it comes to skin color, Mabinogi is one of the few games that has a great selection. From the realistic to the fantastical; there's almost certainly something for everyone here.

I've seen light skinned characters, dark skinned characters, tanned and red skinned characters. I've partied up with fantasy demons and zombies. I buy my dyes from a player who's literally pure black with blinding white eyes; a small imp-like character who's style I absolutely adore and who's dyes are top quality. While it doesn't even begin to cover the extensive list, I thought I'd take a few screenshots to help show what I mean.

Now I understand a lot of you may feel like your character doesn't truly reflect you as a person unless you can be the right weight for you. Mabinogi has you covered here as well, albeit with a slightly convoluted system. I will openly admit that this game is flawed, it is by no means a perfect game; but I take this as a sort of "better than nothing" approach. Food in Mabinogi will grant slight stat bonuses, but underneath those stat points and flavor text there's a hidden mechanic.

Food provides players with Upper and Lower muscle gain or loss, as well as a Weight gain or loss. While food is not the only method of gaining or losing both weight and muscle, it is the most common, and arguably easiest method. Players have many guides on the internet that explain which foods to eat in which order to gain the body type you want, this even includes the wiki.

It's also important to note that weight does not effect your stats, the food you eat absolutely does give a small temporary bonus. However your character can be as fat or skinny as you'd like without ever effecting your ability to perform any task.

I would be remiss not to mention another feature of creating an identity, and it does feel like this is an appropriate place to do it. Every day, or every week (depending on your level) you can preform something called a Rebirth, your level will return to 1 and you will be allowed to change some things about your character or leave them as they are.

This will unfortunately readjust your weight settings, which is why we see so many guides on how to get the ideal weight you're looking for. Thankfully it is by no means difficult to achieve this weight gain once more and will take no more than a few minutes after rebirthing.

As a quick note I won't spend too much time on, for my fellow genderfluid and NB friends out there; you can actively change your gender whenever you rebirth (though obviously you don't have to be NB or Genderfluid to enjoy this feature) and there is a good amount of items specific for crossdressing if that is something you'd prefer. That list of items is far more than your generic maid outfit for men; including everything from dresses to common skirts, with women getting suits, hoodies, and everything in between. If you switch genders you will even get an achievement specifically titled "Genderfluid" which I genuinely appreciate quite a lot.

Speaking of clothing, Mabinogi allows you to use a Style Tab when putting on gear. Your style tab won't give you any stats, but allows you to use the look of whatever is equip to the selected slot over the actual gear worn under it. The Style Tab is free for all players, so you can look your best no matter what you might be doing. Though I suppose those clothes wouldn't really be your own unless you had some kind of say over how they looked right?

Thankfully Mabinogi features a robust dying system in which you can actually use hex coded colors on just about any part of an outfit. You can also preview these changes directly on your character prior to using a dye.

There's a specific, and short; list of items that can't be dyed. Otherwise it's common for every item in the game to have at least one or two dye slots where you can customize their colors however you'd like.

You can do the same for your weapons, even giving them skins to change how they look; and then dying those skins to look just how you want them. A good weapon should match your best outfit after all, right?

Clothing items additionally come in the form of helmets, gloves, boots, main body, robes/back slot, face accessories, and then two more accessories that typically float to either side or behind you. This means you can mix and match everything you wear. You're not stuck trying to make some minor hat fit the entire rest of your armor that came as one solid piece, and you're certainly not struggling to match colors when only a small part of your armor actually dyes to the color you want.

Your identity in Mabinogi is what you see fit to make it, and while it would make this segment incredibly long, more so than it already is; the customization doesn't even end here. To give you an idea of what I'm talking about, you can actually customize how often and how many times your character will blink. There is no other game on the market that lets you create a character the way Mabinogi does, not while still being an entire world outside of your character for you to explore. Speaking of that world, before we get to exploring just what this game has in store for you on your adventure; I'd like to talk about the characters who aren't you. No I don't mean the NPCs, I mean the other players, and how they impact the game you play even when they're not in your party.

Speaking of other players, to really hit home just how different everyone can look I ran around and took a few pictures of players I found in just this one small town.

You may be wondering how much these other players actually matter, in a lot of MMORPGs other players are merely there to fill out the party for dungeons or assist with world encounters. In Mabinogi they do that as well, however there is a constantly evolving economy both on the player ran Auction House, and for things like the Commerce system. Players can also run their own shops, join you for a jam session to play some music together; and even burn some items for a campfire spirit summoned at a group bonfire.

While the NPCs in this game are fantastic, the players are the lifeblood of the game, as is the case with any good MMORPG. From guilds and parties running content together, to the occasional camp you'll come across while exploring the world. Players populate Mabinogi and their effects are felt whether or not you're actively a part of their game.

One of the features most effected by this is Commerce; a trade system which lets players transport trade goods between major cities and towns. If an item is being traded to a town more than others, it's price will drop and you may find better deals by taking it to far away cities. Though you'll encounter bandits on the road, and due to carrying heavy trade goods you'll be a good bit weaker than you usually find yourself. This makes traveling in groups much easier, with those who use air travel particularly; in need of parties thanks to the dragons who will come after your hoard of trade goods. If a bandit is to steal your loot, you need not worry; as other players can take up the role of bounty hunters and track down these bandits at their hideouts to get your stuff back. Bounty Hunting is an easy way to make some cash and also help out your fellow players who may have been wronged by a poorly placed bandit or two.

What about production? Surely I don't need anyone to assist me with making my goods. Though, a second opinion never hurts; you will actually get a boost to production success rate while in a party with other players who also have production skills. In fact, this is a great way to make some strong gear; as products you make will get bonus stats over those found in stores. This does mean that the player economy is largely populated by products made by other players. If you do a good enough job on the item you're making, you'll even leave a signature behind which can be seen by the individuals who buy and use that gear. This is a minor touch, but it's one I greatly appreciate. Anyone can have a really cool demon sword, but only I have a blade forged specifically by my good friend; in hopes it would aid me in my quest. The connection between myself and my party is ever so slightly more apparent, even when they're not around; I always have a small piece of them with me.

Players attending the banquet, an event held weekly that awards free EXP and a lottery raffle at the Tara Castle; can actually donate their food to the catering tables. This is a great time to hang out with fellow players, get some free levels; and of course eat significantly too much food.

Surely that's all, right? Well no, believe it or not players actually have a hand in many things. If you want to enchant some gear but you don't have the enchanting rank to do it yourself; you can request another player to assist you. Perhaps you're an alchemist needing to create alchemy crystals of special magic skills; another player can cast that magic nearby and let you synthesize it into a crystal. If you're using the Jam Session action other players can join you with their own instruments when you play music; automatically matching whatever song you're playing. There's a fashion contest where the winner is put on display in full costume right in the middle of the major cities for all to see. There's even mechanical changes to things like magic, if you're casting Ice Bolt while I cast Fire Bolt next to you; we instead both gain a charge of Fusion Bolt. This form of magic combines the properties of your Ice Bolt and my Fire Bolt into a more powerful version of our respective magics, all because we happened to cast at the same time nearby each other.

If you enjoy music then you might find yourself reading through the Bard Bulletin Board, where players can post the compositions for their custom music. You can transcribe this music yourself and play it whenever you wish, though you can also use the MabiNovel Bulletin to read books written and published by your fellow players as well. This does in fact mean that you too could become a composer, or even an author and post your works to the respective boards.

Players can also obtain their own small piece of the world via Homesteads. These function as a sort of player owned housing system, and they allow you to do everything from growing farms to hosting your own production stations with boosted success rates. Of course the owner of the Homestead can allow either friends, or anyone; to come and gather from their herb patches, farm animals, and various logging, mining, and production sites. Meaning that other players not only offer you an expanded world to explore, but potentially gathering and production spots that may not otherwise be available at your current location.

While Homesteads start quite small, they're nothing to scoff at when fully upgraded; allowing for even a proper house, pets, and partners; to be placed on the fully customizable property. Some items will even passively grant you bonuses to your stats or provide your gathering and production stations bonuses to gathering and success rates.

Alright great, so you have a character who's uniquely you; you even have a place in the world among other players. However what good is that if you don't have a world worth existing in. You're here to play an MMORPG, if you wanted to simply dress up an avatar and exist in a space with others; you'd play something like VRChat or Second Life, or maybe you'd go download that Sims multiplayer mod. You want an RPG! An adventure! A living world to explore and be a part of!

Well Mabinogi's got you covered there as well believe it or not. Now where you fall in terms of enjoying the story is fairly up in the air; I know some people who love it and others who could take it or leave it. That's entirely fair and I don't blame them for feeling that way. To avoid potential spoilers I will be saying up front that if this has been enough for you and you're willing to trust me that this game is worth your time. Skip ahead to the Q and A if you think you need it, or go download and play the game now if you didn't already do that. Hell you can even add me in game if you want some people to play with who are going to be chill with newbies. If you need a bit more though, then keep reading because you might just like what I have to say about this game's journey.

When you start Mabinogi you'll be told you're this being from the stars, something that cannot die; and therefore has importance here. You may literally be an immortal entity, but you won't feel like it. You'll start with only a handful of skills, and with this game having no real class system it's not so straight forward how to get more of them. You'll stumble upon a few while just exploring the world, but others might require you to actually engage with the world around you. If that sounds exciting, don't worry; we've only just begun to explain the whole system of interacting with NPCs.

See the game of Mabinogi is before all else, the story of you; your character the journey you go on. So it's fitting that you keep notes in a Memo, this Memo is written in the perspective of your character; and will keep tabs on what you've been through. Each entry in the Memo is given a Key Word; and these key words will be given to you as you experience new places and things. Whenever you engage with an NPC you can start a conversation, this allows you to flip through your Memo and select a Key Word to speak about with them. Asking them about their private story will reveal this character's lore and backstory, at least; if they like you enough to share that information with you. NPCs do actually contain a system of trust with the player, and if you befriend an NPC they'll even let you access a secret shop where they sell exclusive items. Other Key Words include things like Nearby Rumors where you can obtain gossip and quests; or perhaps you want to ask about Part Time Jobs. Whether you're working for the town blacksmith to deliver some refined ore, or you're gathering wool to make bandages for the town healer; Part Time Jobs offer you fitting rewards for the work you perform, and allow you to even unlock various skills down the line if you perform well enough. Which brings us to another Key Word, the Skills Key Word. Skills is a Key Word that will ask an NPC if they believe they could teach you anything, if you see a knight you can ask them about Skills and maybe learn a new technique for your swordsmanship. Asking a chef about skills may result in them giving you a quest that has you running out to make flour and bake some bread. These methods are meant to immerse you in the world and teach you how the mechanics behind these skills works, rather than just saying you're level 16 so now you can bake bread.

Some NPCs will even react to your title, thanking you for the deeds you've done or perhaps judging you for why you'd do such a thing. This is because every NPC in the game, no matter how minor; has a story to tell. They all have unique theme music that contains a name referencing something about the character and their story. The more you talk to these NPCs and they open up to you, the more you'll learn about the world you're a part of.

However, small NPC stories don't amount to much in the grand scheme of an epic adventure do they? Well don't worry, now we're getting into the main scenario quests, and the lasting impact they have on you as a character. Have you ever felt like you should have maybe gotten a new power, or been recognized for the deeds you've accomplished after you literally save the world; only to return to business as usual? Well Mabinogi actually considered all of that, not only do you get a title that NPCs might react to, as I mentioned previously; but the Main Scenario Questline actually gives you everything from transformations to special unique items. This is again the last chance to not have spoilers as I will be covering at the very least Generation 2: Paladin and Generation 10: Goddess of Light through Generation 12: Return of the Hero.

Okay now that everyone who doesn't want spoilers is gone, allow me to tell you about just a few of these MSQ rewards; of course jumping right to the good stuff without context makes it meaningless. So let's start with a quick summary of Generation 1 that's roughly spoiler free.

Generation 1: Advent of the Goddess starts with The Goddess asking you for help, then you save her. See I kept it spoiler free! You're given the title "[Player name] Who Saved The Goddess" for doing this which grants you some nice stats, but the real reward is that you get to move on to Generation 2: Paladin. Well wow, that's kind of an underwhelming title isn't it? You just finished Advent of the Goddess and now you're on... Paladin? Huh okay, well this quest line is all about a Paladin of legend. You spend the generation becoming someone worthy of the Paladin's armor, searching for his old armor, and even reliving some old memories of his. All to figure out who he is and solve the grand mystery that sparked this whole generation in the first place. The political drama of a potentially puppeteered prince who may actually be dead from the start... Okay yea listen it's more interesting when you actually play it. The real plot twist of this whole generation however is when you figure out who that old Paladin actually is, and more importantly that they're still alive. In the final dungeon of this generation when you face off against the final encounter he is not the one who saves the day. Rather it is you who gets to don the armor of the legendary Paladin and in a moment I love, you get to save him. This transformation is actually a fairly minor stat boost at first. You're not some overpowered god, you're still you; just powered up. When you complete the generation you will find yourself with a wholly new power available to you, the power to become that very same Paladin; now with it's own skills to rank to make it even stronger than it already was.

Yes, just for clearing Generation 2 you now have an entirely new power unlocked for you. The power to, once a day in game time; transform into your Paladin form. If you're an Elf you transform instead into a Falcon, and Giants transform into a Beast. These new forms come with their own unique skills and properties. However you don't lose access to the skills and abilities you already have. This will be a running theme throughout Mabinogi, you only get more; you don't get locked out from being you. If the Paladin aesthetic isn't your deal, and you want things a little different, don't worry; Generation 3: Dark Knight might be more your style. However, this begs the question; are Dark Knights and Paladins the same thing flavored differently? Nope. Sure they are both the same Transformation at the end of the day, but their inner workings are very different. To give you a quick example of what I mean, Paladins always get the same stats every time, but they have no specialized skill they can use while transform. They're essentially your generic stronger form, with buffed stats and nothing more, dull but reliable. Dark Knights instead roll for their stats every time they transform, meaning sometimes you're going to have much stronger physical defense, and other times a much higher magic damage stat. If you're interested in the specifics, here you go:

Dark Knights also don't get forcibly removed from their transformation when their timer is up, rather they go into a state called "Disarmed" where they will take heavy damage over time, but this can be healed if they wish to power through it and keep fighting in their transformed state. They additionally obtain Control of Darkness which lets them tame an enemy to fight for them for a short time.

The Generation 2 transforms (Paladin, Dark Knight, Falcon, and Beast) all have 4 tiers of their transformation, dependent on the skills rank. Each boasting it's own unique title and appearance that builds on their central aesthetic and motif. This means a player who's max ranked Paladin will transform into a Champion, or for Dark Knights, they'll become an Infra Black. I do enjoy the morals of the game being muddier than to just say Paladin is bright and shiny and good, and Dark Knight is well, dark and edgy and bad. As you go through the game you'll learn a lot about the politics of the gods, and understand their moral values a lot better. Which leads us to our next major upgrade.

In Generation 10: Goddess of Light, we take the fight to the gods, and between Generation 10 and Generation 12, we'll even obtain the Sword of the Gods, a then usable sword weapon which ironically may not even be as powerful as some of our own gear by the time we get it; but more specifically we'll decline godhood and become a Demigod. However it's a bit deeper than that, as you'll find that at the end of Generation 10 you're confronted by your doppelganger. Upon defeating it, you gain the power to assume the form of a Demigod; which yes, you can in fact transform into while also transformed into your Generation 2 state. Not only does this form regen your HP, MP, and Stamina; but it additionally allows the use of special skills that depend on which of the gods you're allied with. Those who are being supported by the Goddess Neamhain will obtain skills such as Spear of Light, and Fury of Light; however if you decide to be supported by the Goddess Morrighan you instead obtain Wings of Eclipse, and Wings of Rage. Of course you won't have a choice right away, when you first obtain the ability to become a Demigod, you'll be defaulted to working with Naemhain's skills. They're not bad, but Morrighan isn't going to just give you her skills so easily so if we want options we'll need to get her to work with us. Once we clear Generation 11: Sword of the Gods; we in fact obtain the Sword of the Gods itself. This is important since we'll need it if we're going to fight the gods. Now in Generation 12 we are asked to fight alongside Morrighan to bring down the King of the Gods, Nuadha. For clearing this generation, you'll obtain the right to be supported by Morrighan; which is kind of funny since if you're a Dark Knight it shows you've actually betrayed her by giving up the path of the Paladin in favor of following Dark Knight. I guess she can overlook that given you just helped her defeat the King of the Gods.

Surely the upgrades stop there right? Well no, actually; but you probably knew that already. See there's actually currently, up to G25, with G26 on an active countdown to release as I make this post. With even more transformations, special skills, and some really incredible upgrades that change even the way we engage with crafting; the generation quests are more than worth your time and leave you feeling more powerful with each completion.

Mabinogi isn't just having you go through these quests to complete the story, it's also actively making you more and more the proper image of this immortal hero of legend. It's giving you a power boost on par with some silly shonen anime. As much as you may cringe to hear me make a stupid joke from the early internet; yes the Milletian could beat Goku. Sorry I had to make the dumb joke after making the shonen anime reference you know? These powers aren't ever restricted from you either; it's not as if you suddenly can't use your Paladin transformation in a dungeon, nor are you locked out from using Demigod to regen some stamina just to pick some flowers. Mabinogi is the story of your character, and it gives you so many upgrades and power scale boosts because it genuinely wants you to feel like a powerful hero going up against powerful enemies.

Now I will admit there's something to be said about the balance in some of the later Generation quests, especially because you can skip over a lot of them. They absolutely do plan for you to have the full arsenal of Generation specific skills by the time you reach Generation 20+ but dare I say, I think that's fair. We actually see this in other games too, it's just more allowed from other games because they do a better job of hiding their barrier to entry.

What I mean is that FFXIV is like Dark Souls 3, it's not going to let me go somewhere I'm not actually ready for, because it knows I won't have any fun getting my ass kicked but it's really linear. While Mabinogi is like Elden Ring, it looks at me saying "I'm ready I'm ready put me in coach!" While facing down against an actual god well before I'm... you know, actually ready. Yet it just says "go get 'em champ!" Only to watch me become a pancake two seconds later and think "yea this balance is garbage." Truth is, if I go back and do the content I'm suppose to do first; I will be more than ready for this content when I reach it. However I might actually be able to clear this content when I'm not supposed to yet, and Mabinogi; much like Elden Ring, lets me try. We see this same type of barrier to entry in how FFXIV says "hey man you can't run this until you're Item Level 280 sorry." That feels boring when you just want to run the thing, you don't want to go back and "grind" for item levels, but in reality it's just stopping you from trying and failing repeatedly. Which makes sense for the type of game FFXIV is, where other players are a requirement, and you don't want to hold them back because you thought you could do it with less.

The other truth is, with Mabinogi; not every path to success is going to look the same. I might spend my time training my combat skills, slowly saving up the small stat gains to get to where my base strength is at 500 and I can deal some nice damage. My friend who doesn't want to touch combat skills can absolutely focus on his cooking, slowly but surely becoming a master chef as I've become a master warrior. Now he can make a catering dish that boosts his strength to 500 all the same. We're not going to be dealing the same damage since things like weapon type, and skill ranks will come into play; but this does mean he could achieve the same goals as me in a totally different way. Personally I'm a huge fan of this, it lets every single character feel unique; you can truly become your own kind of player here.

Whether it's weaving your magic skills into your archery gameplay, or becoming an apothecary bard who uses musical buffs and potions to level the playing field. Perhaps you want to train your Ninja and Chain Blade skills to keep you at a distance, debuff enemies, and set explosive traps. You could even just play the game with life skills, relaxing by the pond as a master fisher; before tailoring a new outfit. All of these methods are entirely valid ways to play the game, they all give the necessary stats to enjoy whatever content you wish to, and yes they all give you levels.

It is for these reasons, and honestly; many others. That I have played this game since it's beta, for literally half my lifetime; and why I believe this is genuinely hands down the best MMORPG on the market right now. I urge you to give this game even 15 or 30 minutes of your time, don't get caught up on the old dated graphics, don't fret if you don't understand everything right away. The game is complex, it has a ton of mechanics that mix and intertwine to create a unique experience. The things you might find troublesome at first are exactly what makes the game so fun and unique when you understand them. Given the average internet speed and size of Mabinogi, should you have downloaded this game at the start of this reading it should be about done by now. If not, you've got the Q and A down there for any potential follow up questions you may have. So go ahead and jump into the world of Erinn, if you stop by Dunbarton on Channel 9 you might catch someone from the Landsbetween guild, feel free to stop and say hi; we're a friendly bunch.

A quick Q&A for things I've been asked frequently and might answer some questions or possible concerns you have about the game.

Q: I see a weird banner with P on it, does that mean I require a premium account to use that skin/hair color? A: No. That symbol signifies that it would cost Pon. A cash shop currency that is given to the player fairly regularly. You in fact get a gift box with about 20 Pon when you reach an early level milestone such as 50 or 100. It costs anywhere between 3 - 5 to change eye, hair, and skin color. Of course it only costs you to change to a color that uses the P banner, if a color you would like doesn't have any symbol (either a P for Pon or a B for a Beauty Coupon) then it's completely free. Q: I see a lot of cool characters, how much of a grind is it; or do I need to pay real money to customize my character? A: You can play Mabinogi entirely free to play, gacha boxes do contain high end loot and good in-game items. However the Auction House easily allows you to buy these items from players using entirely free to play gold when a new gacha comes out. While it might seem intimidating to make 1m at first. You'll quickly learn you can make 1m passively per week + any actual activity you do in this game earns you quite a lot. A single run of a dungeon will net me between 50k - 350k depending on drops and my actual in game luck stat. This is on top of the 160k I can make for free just logging in and doing Fynni Blossoming for the day. Of course, the higher your skills and total level; the easier it will be to make money. Q: I don't want to do a specific part of this game, can I still enjoy the other features? A: Yes. Entirely, in fact; I'm doing a challenge run on a character who's not allowed to rank up any combat or damage skills. I've already completed the first major questline of the game without any problem. I will say that your ability to play the game will directly reflect how much knowledge of the mechanics you have. This isn't to say you should scour the wiki for days on end, unless you're into that. However I would argue that having a few friends to play with, or perhaps actually taking the time to read through skills and practice with what you do enjoy doing; will help you to get by not doing the stuff you don't want to. You really can play this game however you want, it just may require you to have a better understanding of it's inner workings. You're always welcome to ask me about stuff whether that's here on tumblr or in game.

Q: My UI and HUD are this weird plastic blue color and I kinda hate it. Can I fix that or am I stuck with this? A: In the settings menu the game allows you to change the color of the UI and HUD to fit your liking. You can also enable various hotbars and disable others. Additionally you can change the game's resolution, and even pick out which version of the OST you'd like to use of which there are three distinct versions.

Q: Does this game have a meta I should worry about?

A: Yes and no, yes it has a meta; no you shouldn't worry about it. If you're really concerned I recommend picking Giant as your race and Close Combat as your starting Talent. I didn't go over Talents in this essay but they're sort of specializations, not classes. They don't limit anything you can do, but rather give you 2x EXP towards the skills they govern. Giants have a fair bit more strength and HP, they're your standard tanky race. While they may not be as fast on their feet as nimble Elves; they can take a good few more blows, and even have racial skills specific to gathering up enemies. Close Combat doubles down on what Giants are already good at, giving you more HP and Strength. Start out by ranking your essential basics, those being Defense, Smash, Counter, Windmill, and honestly throw Assault Slash in for good measure; since you'll want to often combo these skills together. DO NOT SLEEP ON DEFENSE, it is a heavily overlooked but extremely powerful skill. If you feel like you're struggling in combat, grab a shield and rank your shield mastery; even light armor mastery will be more than enough so long as you have a decent shield and the necessary ranks in the skills. You'll soon feel like a steel wall of defense that not even major storyline bosses can put a dent into.

Q: What are the differences between Elves, Humans, and Giants? Can I change my race after I make my character, since I can change my gender?

A: First off, no; sadly you cannot change your race after making a character. This is become of the racial differences. The major ones are as follows...

Elves can use invisibility to hide themselves, they'll fire 2 arrows as opposed to 1 when using archery; and they obtain a unique poison arrow that spreads to nearby targets when fired. They move faster than other races and have stats better geared towards Magic and Archery; though that won't matter too much. They become a Falcon after Generation 2 letting them use Elven Magic Missile, and cannot use 2 handed weapons nor can they dual wield.

Giants can use stomp which is a fairly week AoE ability, they also get Taunt, Stampede, and Wind Guard as unique skills. They can use two handed weapons in one hand letting them use a shield with them, and can dual wield blunt objects. They have stats geared towards a close combat play style, though again that won't matter too much later on. They become a Beast after Generation 2 letting them use Giant Full Swing, they cannot use bows but have thrown spears instead.

Humans cannot learn the specific racial skills of the other two races. They can dual wield swords; and don't have equipment restrictions outside of not being able to dual wield blunt objects and not being able to use the throwing spears. They have stats geared to an all around play style, which as you know; doesn't really matter much. They become a Paladin after Generation 2, or they can become a Dark Knight which gives them the active skill Control of Darkness which lets them tame an enemy to fight for them.

Q: Is this game Pay to Win?

A: Is any MMORPG not Pay to Win? Alright, real answer; let's break it down. Does Mabinogi have Pay to Win properties? Absolutely it does. Most if not all MMORPGs do. FFXIV has the paid level boosts just like Mabinogi has paid gacha boxes with end game loot. I'm not trying to pick on FFXIV here, it's just what I'm familiar with because I also play it. Truth is, Mabinogi gives you a lot of gold for just doing content, whether you're a crafter who can sell your wares for millions, just doing daily Fynni gems for 1m a week per character, or combat focused and running your Lord missions with boosts for a few million in a couple hours. So while I'd argue that it absolutely is pay to win, not only do you not need those minor boosts from the gear until long into the later generations; you also will have the money to buy it off players long before you actually need it. That's if you need it at all, since you can easily get ahead in this game by just engaging with the many skills and mechanics. If I had to give this a simple yes or no, the answer is yes; but I really don't think it's nearly as bad in Mabinogi as it is in other games. Especially considering how small the PvP scene in this game is. You don't need to pay to win when someone else in your party absolutely did, or maybe you just pay in gold to win. However I'd argue that it's pay to win FASTER than others. Just take it slow and enjoy the journey. Every game is pay to win, Mabinogi handles it better than most.

Q: Is there any reason for me to not like this game?

A: Yea the devs haven't hired me to write articles like this for their marketing. Boycott worthy honestly; they should pay me for this, or at least make me a soul streamer, you know? (┬┬﹏┬┬) ^ This last one is a joke, you know; in case reading comprehension.

#mabinogi #mmorpg #fantasy rpg #rpg #yes I'm putting a bunch of tags I want people to play this game.#Fantasy MMORPG #Okay I lied that's all the tags I can think of actually.#Wait are you actually reading the tags on this? After reading ALL of that?#You're ALSO gonna read the tags? Wow okay hi I guess lol uuuh you're pretty cool if you made it this far #I hope to see you in game :D #I have too many characters so I'm serious when I say just swing by Dunbarton on Ch9 and find the Landsbetween guild #That's the guild my partner and I run #So yea like... that's kinda all I got #Man I didn't even talk about the skill books and stuff #man I love this game so much #Man I Love F-antasy Games like Mabinogi... You thought I was gonna put that tag here?#Nah but I'd probably die if she ever played this game not gonna lie #especially if they did what they did to Ironmouse and stuck her with a Soul Streamer who doesn't care #it was physically painful to watch that guy completely ignore Mouse and she shit she enjoyed about Mabi #like genuinely I could have done better but like I'm not a soul streamer so you know whatever lol #My partner and I watched that whole stream just screaming at that guy like I'm not gonna name names but good lord #He outright ignored her several times despite and then dragged her through high end content as a newbie what the hell man #Regardless I hope YOU reading this come play Mabi because I think you'd really enjoy it #come find our guild and hang out some time #I'll be glad to be your guide through this really bizarre and fun game

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