#finally fulfilling my part of the contract of being an artist

[kibutsulove]

// Blood tw // — Azulon and Hama fanart

last year I abstained,

this year I devour.

[lunasalix]

I really want to quit my job. This happens a few times per year for me, usually when I have an event coming up that I’m not particularly excited about (basically any event that’s not science or GSA related). 

This time, it’s a plethora of different issues coming together that have left me completely drained. 

I did that autism thing where communication is scary and difficult, so I decide to wait until I feel ready, but that doesn’t happen quickly enough and then it’s so late that the rejection-sensitive dysphoria kicks in and I freeze up thinking people will be mad at me for being so late in responding, so I wait until the very last possible second, then it really is too late. Self-fulfilling prophecy. So part of this is 100% my fault. I need to be open with my bosses about this issue and see if we can find a solution. 

Then, with finals week quickly approaching, I have fallen so far behind on so many other things because I’ve been so busy with meetings and trainings during all of my planning periods that my grading, attendance calls, failure calls, actually writing the exams, and other paperwork crap has gone to the wayside. I have been refusing to work outside of contract hours except the week leading up to an event (of which I’ve planned and hosted 4 this semester with the 5th this Friday). I’m tired and stressed and this mountain of work looming over me is not helping. 

In addition, the event that I had carefully planned for GSA in early January - a visit from 3 local drag artists - was canceled because of the stupid, bigoted politics in my state. If we still had the old principal, I’d go right over his head and sneak to make the event happen anyway. However, the new principal is in a delicate position as interim and as a black man in a position of power, plus he’s a great leader, so I don’t want to jeopardize him in any way. I’m just mad that drag queens existing in public is being equated to telling Latinx student to go back to their countries. Like, one is artistic expression and the other is just being an asshole. 

I’m also mad that our old principal is apparently spying on the new one by communicating with people who still work in the building and he keeps calling the new principal trying to convince the latter to do things the way the former would have. Our school is improving on every metric and you really have the gall to think that your crusty ass has better ideas than the new guy? Fuck all the way off. 

But I’m also conflicted about some of the new principal’s decisions. He wants to fix the fact that we have multiple fights per week in the building, so his solution is to arrest every student who fights. I feel like that’s damaging to throw black kids from the projects straight through the school-to-prison pipeline for something that is clearly an issue of emotional regulation and self-preservation, but who am I to tell a black man what is best for black children? 

I also feel like I’ve taken on way too much. I’m team lead - which involves meeting with admin to create agendas for the meetings on my side of the building, planning events for quarterly student celebrations on my side of the building, and developing initiatives for improvement, all of which are used as a model for the rest of the building because my side is the highest performing. I’m also a sponsor for GSA, which used to meet once per week during study hall, but now that study hall is gone, they meet during lunch. We got new help this year from an outside organization that I thought would take some of the load off, but it’s created a ton of infighting with the students and the “help” constantly wants to have events while doing very little of the planning or funding for those events, and they need constant support to control the kids because none of the kids like them. Then I’m the sole faculty sponsor for Student Government, which means I have to plan, fund, and host every major event in the building - homecoming, cominghome, all pep rallies, prom, spirit weeks, seasonal celebrations, etc. Every time I have sought outside help in this role, the people I who offer to help end up not doing anything, but they don’t tell me until the last minute so I end up having to clean up their messes days before the event. This has happened 3 times with 3 different people. When I ask admin for support, they always agree that I shouldn’t do it on my own, but offer not help in actually getting someone else to take on some of these tasks. I don’t even like any of the events Student Government runs. I didn’t attend them when I was in high school, and I still wouldn’t if I wasn’t the one having to put it all together. I got tricked into the position by a senior staff member telling little baby teacher me that it only involved signing off on things and that the students do all the work. In addition, I’m the sole union representative in the building, so every time the union has a campaign, I have to organize my coworkers single-handedly, which can only be done outside of normal work hours. This is yet another position I was volun-told for. Then I somehow ended up on all these district-wide committees that involve multiple meetings throughout the year. 

I just want to teach my classes. I have 4 different courses which are meant to be highly hands-on, with lots of community involvement, field trips, labs, guest speakers, job shadows, and more. Until this year, my career pathway was the best run in the school. Now that an actually good teacher moved into one of the other pathways, I’m seeing what mine could be if I didn’t have so much else on my plate and could actually focus on my classes. My kids are complaining that they don’t get as many opportunities as the other pathway now. It makes me so sad and I feel like I’m failing them. 

In addition, my sophomores this year are giving me a run for my money. When I first started, 5 years ago, I had the most difficult group of sophomores I have ever taught. 60% had disabilities, 50% had major behavioral issues, and they had not had an English teacher in 3 years because they kept making their English teachers quit - so reading comprehension was dismal. BUT! They learned. They became my favorite group that I have ever taught by the 3rd year in my pathway. This year’s group have been on the scientific method for 2.5 months. Yesterday’s opening question was, “Which step of the scientific method do you think is most important, and why?” which I told them was purely opinion-based. After 5 long minutes of silence, the most academically talented student in the class raised her hand slowly and asked, “Ms. X, what is the scientific method?” It was all I could do not to cry. In 5 years of teaching this, I have never had a group take more than 2 weeks to catch on. The assistant principal witnessed the entire thing and said that there is nothing more I can do to help them understand it - the learning is on them and they are choosing not to partake. That broke me. I have never had trouble motivating students. I have never had a group just refuse the most fun labs of the year until this one. 

I feel like a failure. I know it’s not true, but it feels that way. In addition, I feel like everyone in the building kind of hates me right now. I lost the teacher of the year vote, and I have yet to be awarded teacher of the month as well (which is decided by the previous teacher). I’ve had several teacher express disappointment that I haven’t been doing more in some of my roles this year. I feel disconnected, unwanted, and unsupported. 

I feel like the only way out of all of the extra roles I’ve accumulated is to quit, but I worked so hard to build my program that it feels wasteful to just leave it all behind. I had to build my curriculum for 4 courses from scratch. The entire district uses the curriculum I built. I also don’t know what else I would do. Finding a decent paying job in science is impossible without some type of medical degree. I just want to be outside sharing nature with people of all backgrounds and ages. Why is that so hard? 

[agentofscifi]

Success is the Best Kind of Revenge Ch. 3

Heels click onto the floor of my office as Chloe pushes open my doors. My hands were currently holding up the train of a dress hung on Juleka. Alix follows after Chloe, tinkering with some kind of camera in her hand. Over the years, as we all graduated from University and done pretty well for ourselves.  

Juleka ended up changing her major in school after three semesters. Instead of going into performing arts for instruments, she went and got a composition degree. Juleka wrote music for a variety of artists and was one of the most sought-after songwriters. When she wasn’t doing all of that, she was modeling for my company. Juleka did a variety of photoshoots for several companies, mine included throughout her University Years. After I opened up my first few stores, we signed a formal contract. She’d been working for me for almost a decade. She split her time between Paris and Nashville in America. 

Alix decides to focus on a degree in art history. She worked at an Auction House company in Paris, moving between the various countries of Europe to authenticate pieces of art and then handle their sales. She was rather successful at her work, earning many bonuses for rather extremely successful sales. Alix’s unique style and comfortable professionalism made her easily approachable to buyings. She was rather blunt, and it did her well in her job. On her off-hours, Alix did some minor modeling and promoting much of my athletic pieces. Alix’s popularity grew as she competed in several X-Games in and after university. She won several titles in skateboarding, BMX freestyling, rollerskating, and snowboarding before retiring after a slip-up when snowboarding. She shattered her kneecap, broke a leg, her collarbone, and dislocated her arm in two places. She still did BMX biking, skateboarding, rollerblading, and snowboarding, just not in a professional capacity. That being said, little kids still asked for her autographs all the time.  

Chloe graduated from the London Business School with Honors and then proceeded to attend the Fashion Institute of Technology in New York to get a Graduate Degree in Global Fashion Management. She modeled some of my designs, worked connections, handled all my brand’s social media accounts, and finalized contracts. Now, she had several people working underneath her, to handle the day-to-day operations. Either way, Chloe handled all of the Brand’s business dealings and flourishes.  

As for me, I attend the London College of Fashion. I got a Bachelor’s Degree in Fashion Design and Development with honors. After those years, I went to Milan to attend Istituto Marangoni International for a Master’s Degree in Luxury Accessories Design & Management. After that, I relocated back to Paris. My first boutique opened up quickly after that along with a small factory with a loan from a bank. I ended up having to open a second factory within three months due to demands. More boutiques opened up worldwide as the Brand became a household name.  

“Hello Chloe, how is everything?”  

“We got invitations to a reunion for Lycée. Alya sent them, as she was the class representative when we all graduated. Personally, I think she wants to get her hands on you or Juleka for an interview. You know her journalism career is in the gutter.”  

Alix snorts. “And who’s fault is that?” 

Chloe rolls her eyes. “Her’s. The idiot ruined her blog when she was a teenager and she never changed. She still does idiotic and frankly dangerous things to get a scoop. Sure, she does some basic research now, but the girl’s been detained several times for endangering people and disrupting the peace. No University would touch her, and no place will hire her.”  

Alix looks up from the camera. “So, you didn’t inform everyone in the fashion journalism world about her history, knowing it would spread to all major news and journalism networks.  

Chloe raises an eyebrow. “Look, this company’s image is important. I was not going to let Miss Blogger ruin it for 15 minutes of fame. She dug her own grave.”  

I sigh. “This is great and all, but are you all going?”  

There’s a snort right behind me. “Not on any of our lives. We will not be sinking that low.”  

“Chloe!” Juleka’s face is red and slightly scandalized.  

“What? Why would we go to this reunion? To see how everyone is doing? It’s rather simple. Alya’s a tabloid writer. Nino is a barely successful DJ who works at a music store to help pay his bills. Max is an IT guy at a company. That fake research paper haunts him to this day. Kim works at a gym. The drugs screwed his athletic chances over and he never planned for anything beyond going to the Olympics. Nathaniel works at an art store and does nighttime classes. He’s unsuccessfully worked with 7 different writers for his comics after leaving Marc.   

Now, Myléne and Ivan are happy, at least. Myléne works as a secretary and Ivan as a grocery store manager. Both are part-time so one of them can stay home with their kids at a time. They have millions of photos of their family on their Instagram accounts. Neither one can do much with charities. The fraud they committed was spread around the charity communities fast.  

Rose, Adrien, and Sabrina are the only ones who did what they wanted to do. Rose had a few years of fame with her music before getting married and settling down as a youth music teacher. Adrien moved to America and works for a University. However, I know for a fact that he will not be returning to Paris for anything less than a funeral or a wedding. As for Sabrina, after some therapy, ended up as a Detective in Marseille.”  

“Didn’t you pay for her therapy?” I tie off my last stitch and let the train fall to the platform.  

Chloe purses her lips. “I owed her that much. I screwed her childhood up, majorly.”  

“Did you stalk everyone to find out all of this?” Alix has a mischievous look.  

Another eye roll from Chloe. “I didn’t need to. In this day and age, all you need to do is type their name into the internet and all of their social media pops up.”  

I hum. “What about Lila?”  

“She’s still in prison. Tried another appeal a little while ago, to no avail. Her long list of offenses and the “assisting a terrorist” change isn’t something any judge would want to touch, even with a 10 ft pole.”  

Juleka simply shrugs. “Back to the point at hand. I’m not going to this reunion. Rose is the only one I wanted to keep in contact with, and she’s not going. It’s her five-year anniversary with her husband. She’s going to Spain that week.”  

Alix shugs. “I’m not going either. Kim has tried to contact me so many times to help him get back into the sports world. I am not giving him another chance. Besides, there’s this huge auction going on in Russia for that week. I am not missing that for a few hours with our childhood classmates.”  

I look at Chloe. She raises a perfect eyebrow. “Not a chance and you are not going either. Heavens forbid Alya posts something on that new blog of hers.”  

I set my needle and thread down on a work table and gesture to Juleka to get changed. “I’m not going if none of you are. Besides, there’s this fashion show in Milan that weekend. It’s for freshly graduated designers to show off their talents to possible employers. I was planning to go to find some who would specialize in Fashion Contour. I’ve been doing quite a bit of work in that field and want to get a fresh pair of eyes that will eventually take over that area of our brand. I was also hoping to look for someone to start a Make-up department. One of your people mentioned the idea at a meeting.”  

Chloe nods and starts to type into her phone. “I’ll tell my assistant to look through the applications we have to see if anyone fulfills the requirements for that job. Just find that new department head.”  

I give Chloe a nod as Juleka hands me the dress from before. A custom-made wedding dress for a woman who happened to be Juleka’s exact size. One of the many I had made of the years since I’d started my fashion business.   

Some part of me wanted to thank Lila. If I was honest with myself, I wouldn’t be where I was if she hadn’t arrived at my class and taken everyone’s loyalty. They weren’t bad people, but thanks to Ms. Bustier, they were a drain on my energy and abilities. Now, however, I was one of the most well-known and successful fashion designers with over two dozen people for me in Design. I could not be happier. 

Ch. 1 ~~~~~ Ch. 2

[dropsofletters]

the beat of a love rhyme [jww]

— summary: up-driven music, blasting parties, glasses of champagne clanking in between drags of smoke—the seventies are wild, but she’s at the peak of her career. part of one of the most popular funk bands of this decade, their vocalist at that, with a fulfilling relationship, rows of people screaming her name…life is good.

until it isn’t.

her band decides to split and she’s left as a solo artist. the only thing she has left is jeon wonwoo, her manager, and the connection that has grown in between them in endless years of accompaniment.

as it turns out, he’s all she needs—saccharine sweet, paradoxical, elegant, kind. much different from the world she had once prided herself for being part of.

— title: the beat of a love rhyme — pairing: jeon wonwoo x reader  — genre: funk band!au ; manager!au ; friends to lovers!au ; 1970’s!au  — type: fluff ; suggestive ; drama ; angst  — word count: 13,740

She once saw the world she had constructed fall down to her feet. Watched betrayal collide against the strong walls of her universe, tumbling it down, masking it in shadows and dust. For once, while standing in the studio, sporting enigmatic and outstanding clothing and a smirk that slowly dissipates, she doesn’t feel like herself. Stardom tastes nothing like the saccharine-sweet dessert she had once thought of it to be.

Music is one of those things—everyone loves it, adores to sensationalize the artists that they listen to on the radio and that they attend concerts of, but they don’t think about how wrong it is. Managers that are manipulators, magazines that are stalkers, drug dealers that are leeches looking to destroy them and earn their money while at it. Of course, how to forget?…band members that leave the group because a lead vocalist is, well, fucking stupid.

They all start the same. The Beatles. Kiss. They are friends that get in a group together and then, they’re no longer as good of friends as they were in the beginning. One person wants to write certain kind of music, another one is too lost in between someone’s legs to even care, then…there’s what her friends are doing.

The Moonlit Dolls are a funk hit. Ask magazines, newspapers, even that one housemaid that lives next to you and bumps her hips and head to the beat of their songs. It happened in 72, when one roll of a song made it to the radio and soon after, they found a manager. Youthful, nervous, just trying to prove his boss right about his sense of music.

That’s Wonwoo, outside the booth that contains the seven women of the funk band that once consisted of friends that drank beers together and decided to make a group. Perform dancing and singing to their heart’s content, with pianos, trumpets, and a whole lot of shiny dresses. She was the lead woman, and now?

“We’re kicking you out of The Moonlit Dolls.” Sunshine, the pianist, says with one hand spread on top of her waist. Her hair is puffy, tight curls accompanied by tinted sunglasses and a body-tight dress, orange under the golden lights.

She scoffs after hearing it the second time. “Yeah, right.” Tugging at the oversized jacket, belonging to her baseball player boyfriend, that rests over her shoulders, a smile appears on her features. “I am The Moonlit Dolls, Sunshine. You ask anyone and the only person they’re going to care about is me.”

Prickling with harsh words will give her a benefit in this fight. Kiara, the chorist and bass player, gasps from her spot. Sunshine is all sex dreams and radiant smirks. Kiara is ignited cigarettes and broken wings. “You can’t say that…”

“Calm down, Ki.” Sunshine says, extending her hand towards the smaller, weaker woman. “I’m not letting this bitch keep the group.”

Why is no one talking? She asks herself. There are two producers and her manager, Wonwoo, outside. Everyone else had decided to switch managers when they reached stardom in 75 with their single “One More Song”, but she had kept to his side.

“It’s my group. I was the one with the idea.” She utters, fixing the microphone and putting on her headphones “So stop whining about and trying to be a leader when I need you to do your job and play the piano, as you should.”

“We’re tired of being your little backup girls.”

She raises her eyebrows at that, bitter as bitter can be. “Maybe, if you worked on some good publicity, you wouldn’t be my backup girls.”

Scandal after scandal had cladded the group, and while being the leader, she had to stand every question and tidying wave. Men in music do it all the time—being in threesomes, being improper outside, doing drugs, smoking cigarettes, screaming to paparazzi but have a group of women singing and playing funk music do it and it’s a fucking headline. And the worst kind.

Her girls just loved a bit of irrelevant, awestriking fun…and she was the one to protect them.

Look how that turned out.

Star, their drummer, screams a bit louder than the rest. She’s a mood-maker, even in the worst sense of the word. “And you’re a good example?!”

“Mention one scandal from me.” The vocalist says, shrugging her shoulders when she spares a glance towards Wonwoo. The man hovers over the sound booth, thick eyebrows perpetually placed in a frown, as if studying the situation.

Star sighs dreamily. “I don’t know, maybe that you’ve fucked the entirety of the country’s baseball team.”

Looking over her shoulders, anger is swallowed down by the lump on her throat. It hurts. The six women that had been there for her these past few years now have turned against her, and even worse, they think of her as some kind of monster. Have someone to lose and you’ll cry them once every blue moon. Imagine having six.

“Oh baby,” She feigns a moan, battling her eyelashes in the process to bring a smirk over her features. “I like men with big baseball bats. Thick. Long. Know what to do with them…is that what you wanted to hear? Is your little businessman boyfriend too little in that department for you?”

“Cock-thirsty bitch.” Star cusses, moving forward as she tightens her fists.

Instead, she chuckles. “Does that make your betraying-bitch ways any better?”

Blood boiling, ears tinged in heat, she doesn’t pay much attention to what she says until she feels Star’s long nails piercing through her scalp, holding onto her hair and tugging at it as shrieks leave her lips. Fighting with them, even physically, would have never crossed her head but hey…

If she’s going to end up having a scandal, she better go all the way with it.

Her hands settle on Star’s slim arms, moving her around and pushing her against the drums, tussled to the ground by her force. Star pulls her down, pushing her body to the ground to tug at more of her hair and just when she’s grabbing onto the woman’s face, fingers digging onto her cheeks, she feels the pressure on her head dissipating, but not leaving her without a headache.

The next thing she sees is a pair of worried brown eyes staring down at her, the golden lights of the ceiling a halo around Wonwoo’s brown hair, soft strands cascading down his face when he wraps his fingers around hers and puts her up, behind his suit-cladded body.

“Stop it.” He says, never one raising his voice. Star doesn’t look any better, tears cladding her vision as she stares back at her. “Do you think it’s fair for her to just tell her now that you’re leaving her out of the group? You’re going to destroy her career.”

“It has always been about her!” Sunshine says, far stronger than Star in her poise. “She’s the one writing, composing, singing, presenting. If she’s so good, she’ll do well…but we can’t be The Moonlit Dolls and the bitch that stands above everyone. This isn’t what a group is about—”

“What is it about?” Her voice lowers, getting away from Wonwoo’s shadow, bottom lip trembling to try to keep strong. But she can’t. She’s losing her group and her sisters. Though, they don’t consider her family anymore. “Talking about me? Judging me? Making decisions without including me? Is it about envy? If you really love someone, you’ll want to see them succeed, not push them to the ground to step on them.”

Sunshine pulls her sunglasses down, rolling her eyes in the process. Silence eats the atmosphere when she says: “You did that to us for years.”

“…Well, not anymore.” Her shaking fingertips wrap around Wonwoo’s, interlocking their hands together to keep sane. The only person that is left of the beginning of it all…and now, she’ll have to start again. “You’ve got it. Be the Moonlit Dolls. I couldn’t give less of a shit. I hope you’re happy.”

“Wait, no—” Wonwoo says, tugging at her. “It’s not fair. We can talk about the contract with them. I’m—”

“I don’t want to work with them anymore.” Her voice is soft, odd for a frontwoman, but when looking into her manager’s eyes, she wants to find solace…peace… “Please, let’s just go home.”

It doesn’t take much more than a nod from him and a tug of her hand to get out of that fucking studio.

###

One rule before getting on a stage or even doing a presentation at school. You don’t think of everyone naked; much less do you take deep breaths. You just of how comforting it will be to come back home to the person that supports you through it all. Now, that’s how she has gotten through stardom.

The beaming lights of the city cast down on her face, shadows highlighting the tears that stream down her face. The sleeve of her sweater, bathed in a citrusy scent, rubs at her tired eyes for the umpteenth time when Wonwoo finally says something.

“They didn’t deserve you.”

Maybe, Wonwoo is the person she wants to make proud, whom she wants to return to, even when they are just friends. A manager on the rising, trying to get his job going, in 1972, when he found a group of women in some bar. At the time, Wonwoo was a lot more youthful, peppering around nineteen-year-old and not technically her manager. An intern? Sure. The man in the small lettering of books when remembering The Moonlit Dolls? Of course. But Wonwoo only got to be her manager five years later. This year, actually.

Now, he’s different from how she remembered him. Wonwoo was a lot shyer, music-loving, sporting graphic t-shirts and carrying CD’s in his backpack just in case. His features were sweeter, of course, less of a frown and more of a curve to his cat-like lips, but Wonwoo has pampered himself well enough. A gray suit covers his tall and slim body on most occasions, tied to his waist to utmost perfection, with his hair smooth against his scalp and sleeked back, with one strand that always escapes it, and of course, he leaves the CD’s in his newer, far better car now.

Sighing, she rests her head against her seat, staring at his profile as the mansions and beaming lights let her know they are nearing her house. “Who are we lying to, Wonwoo?” She asks, voice raspy. “All my shit is getting out now. They’re not the type to keep their lips pursed and all the songs I composed are going to stay with her. I know Sunshine—”

“They’re copyrighted. They can’t do that.” Wonwoo’s voice, warm like a day at the pool in summer, makes her chuckle softly, not even parting her lips to do so.

“Copyrighted under The Moonlit Doll’s name.”

“Then…” Wonwoo trails, fingers skimming over the wheel professionally. Looking at him from the side, Wonwoo doesn’t look half bad. Maybe, that’s why her boyfriend is always over-the-top jealous about her manager. “We can turn you into a solo artist. Elton John did it. John Lennon did it. Hell, every single one of The Beatles decided a solo was good. Even Ringo.”

“Elton is Elton. I’m me.”

“More of a reason. You’re enough—”

“Woo.” She cuts off, leaning over to his side of the car, head resting on his shoulder to seek for the comfort of him. “It’s not about the music. It’s about the fact that those women, my sisters, my girls, decided to just cut ties with me.”

Wonwoo’s breath ghosts over her forehead for a second when he looks over his shoulder to park in her garage. His arm extends behind her seat, the warmth of him seeping through his suit. “So, you can only rise from this. It will hurt for a while, and I’ll give you enough time to heal all you need, but you can’t consider them your sisters. Not after what they did to you. Not how they talked to you, either.”

With that, he parks the car, but she doesn’t move her face away from her spot next to him. He’s the only thing she has left of her old life, before the big mansion, chef, workers, studio albums and stardom.

He calls her name softly, and she hums.

“You don’t consider them your sisters, do you?”

“The kind of sisters that you hope never get written in your father’s will. Yeah. That kind of sisters.”

Her manager chuckles at that, soft and tender. “I’ll support you through everything.” With that, he opens the door to the driver’s seat. “But I need you to sleep the sadness off and for god’s sake, to stop crying. They’re not worth the tears. Sure, it hurts…but this happens. Every group falls down.”

Lumping against the seat, her fingers clumsily hook on the door to open it. “Then, why are they so popular?”

“People love friendships.” He says, and when she turns to look at the side and get out of the car, he’s already holding his hand out for her to take. She does, eyes connected to his as he speaks. “And they love groups of people they can choose from. You know, ‘my favorite was totally Sunshine because she’s hot’ and that’s all there is. Sex sells, but friendship does, too.”

“I have to stay with sex, then.” The door closes behind her, coldness seeping through her legs when she walks towards her spacious mansion. Eight rooms, ten bathrooms, enormous living rooms and parties, and she still doesn’t feel a thing for this place. It’s not home.

“It’s not necessary when you have talent.”

“Tell that to the talented women in this industry that are only paid attention to if their nipples peak through their shirts.”

“…We’ll do anything to make you shine for who you are.”

“I, no longer, have a ‘we’.” She doesn’t tip-toe around the subject, turning around and walking backwards when talking to Wonwoo. “I’m alone! I’m fucking alone and I don’t know what to do. I’m not used to being alone!”

Wonwoo sighs. “How many people does it take to make a ‘we’?”

The question has her frowning. “I don’t know—”

“It’s logic. You do know. The least amount of people you need to make a ‘we’ is…”

His voice trails when her back connects against the entrance of her mansion. “Two.”

“And did I leave you?”

“No.”

“Then, we’re a team. We’ll always be a team.” Wonwoo conquers, his hands coming in contact with her shoulders when he pulls her to the side slightly. “So, I’m staying here tonight and make sure you don’t party until ninety percent of your body becomes alcohol.”

A smile tugs at the edge of her lips. Well, maybe she’s as trashy as her ex-bandmates said. “People like you are always so responsible, aren’t they?”

Wonwoo opens the door with the copies of her keys he has with him, turning on the lights and greeting one of the maids by the entrance. “Tell me you wouldn’t have done it.”

She chuckles. “Oh, I would’ve smoked a cigarette out of someone’s ass right now with how shitty I’m feeling.”

Never would she have thought that would make Wonwoo grin. “That’s a pun?”

Her eyes look up to remember what she said before laughing at her words. “I’ve never eaten ass, but maybe the factor of shit possibly coming out could be the reason why I’ll never try it.”

Something in his eyes is dulcet. You see, silence has its own taste, and there, with her nose clogged up from so much crying and lips burning from so much biting, she basks on the way Wonwoo smiles and watches her when he extends his hand and pats her head. “You’re something else.”

Out of all the times she has heard it, this one feels nice—sincere. “That’s the only thing I have ever been.”

“Go to sleep. I’ll stay down here and arrange a few things.”

“My career?”

“Maybe.” Wonwoo shrugs, taking off her boyfriend’s jacket from her shoulders and placing it neatly on the couch. “Go sleep those tears off.”

Saluting him, she winks at him as a goodbye. “On it, dad.”

Wonwoo closes his eyes tightly, a chuckle ripping through his vocal chords. “Don’t call me that.”

“I won’t…dad.”

She hears him groan as she goes up the endless set of curved, marble-toned stairs and that alone makes her feel like maybe, not everything is fucked.

###

Rule number one of life. Never say never.

Never say everything.

Never say fine.

Just, don’t say shit.

Wonwoo has stayed in her place for the past three days, asking her chefs to make her complete meals, making sure that she—at least—ties her hair away from her face as she relishes on her sadness. Lets it broom and breathe out as she sips on her coffee and reads the newspaper. Two days ago, a man died when swallowing a bone, just yesterday, they talked about the feminist movement and today, she’s in the headlines when she scalds her tongue with coffee.

“Wonwoo!” She shouts out, loud and clear, enough to rip her vocal cords. Anyone who listened to her would have thought two things. One, Wonwoo is her child and she’s trying to scold him to bits and pieces or she’s Wonwoo fan, and hence, absolutely crazy enough to scream his name like that.

It’s not always that the man she loves decides to speak nonsense in the newspaper.

Or rather, break up with her through an article.

THE DEVIL IN A SHORT SKIRT – Why the King of Baseball, Jae Kim, decided to break all ties with most famous female funk singer?

For once, she didn’t know she had broken ties with Jae. Two days ago, to be exact, he was cooing on the cellphone, whispering sweet and dirty nothings of how much he missed her, how he craved to touch her skin, how he had thought of all the sins possible with her in mind. That’s not love, but it’s stardom—Hollywood bleeding the perfection that everyone envies.

Now, when Wonwoo appears in the pristine kitchen, breathing heavily as he had ran all the way through the mansion, she’s reading the article. His picture is there, enough reason to show he had actually been interviewed. Jae throws his head back in laughter, thick and muscular thighs parted with his skillful fingers wrapped around a glass of champagne. His long brown hair is pushed away from his face, his chiseled face, squared jaw and thick lips parted in sweet laughter.

“It was crazy, man.” He said, according to the reporter, with a frown of his lips. “I’d be scared of her, much like the girls were. She was too strong. Too receptive. She tied me up to the bed one night and left me there until the morning. I’m not too perfect but damn...I couldn’t hold on.”

God!

Speak of a fucking bastard!

He was the one tying people up, if she is sure of something.

The rest of the article objectified her, to bits and pieces, enough to throw the newspaper across the kitchen, watching the papers fall apart as a dulling scream leaves her lips, coffee splattering across the walls when she splashes it away from her cup.

“Fuck!”

How could the man that she loved treat her in such a way? Spoke about things that he should have never talked about—bragged about how it was like to bang the hottest member of a girl group, of a funk band. Talked about her consumptions, her supposed addictions, spoke of her as a pair of tits and an ass that he touched and claimed as his but he couldn’t hold onto because a body was a thing…but certainty, confidence, ambition? Oh, that’s too fucking much.

That’s a woman. He wants a maid.

He wants a hole to fuck.

Her hands cover her eyes when she hears Wonwoo speaking, a curse leaving his lips. “This fucker. I told you not to get with him—”

One year back, when Wonwoo was totally right about dating her ex boyfriend’s best friend, Jae Kim, and also another baseball player. Maybe The Dolls weren’t so wrong when they said she had a thing for men like that.

“I know.” She speaks softly.

“Let me call the publicity team and just talk about this. We need to make a conference and throw him to the ground. He doesn’t deserve to talk such obsenities—”

Instead, she extends her hand, waving her fingertips. “Give me the car keys.”

Wonwoo looks into her eyes, studying her, more put together than herself. Did she even take a shower yesterday? She’s not sure. “Why?”

“Wonwoo, I said—”

“I’m not letting you drive anywhere alone.” Crossing his arms over his chest, he keeps his voice poised and she does her best not to stomp her foot like a child. “You want to talk with Jae.”

Maybe, he knows her a bit too much. “He said—”

“Stupid things.” Wonwoo waves the newspaper in the air. “He said things that should have been kept in between two people and he doesn’t deserve words. He deserves—”

“Oh, I know what he deserves.” She waves her fingers again. “So, you either let me go or I’m walking all my way there.”

“Are you going to kill him?”

With a sigh, she tilts her head to the side. “Wonwoo, do you think I would kill someone?”

Her manager blinks a few seconds before chuckling. “No, but I’d support you if that’s what you were trying to do.” He says, throwing the newspaper to the island. “What’s the plan?”

“You let me drive, and you don’t say a thing.”

“…For the first time in my life, I don’t want to stay silent because I don’t know what you’re planning.”

Though, the coldness of the car keys rests against her hands, with enough quickness for her to go to the living room and take Jae’s signed baseball bat in between her fingers, swinging it once and twice before resting it against her shoulder.

“I’m planning to be the kind of woman he’s scared of.”

Wonwoo raises his eyebrows at that. “We’re not killing him.”

“I’m not planning on killing him.” She looks at the bat in between her fingers. “I could get this up his ass, but he’s not in his mansion. He’s somewhere in the country, bragging about how he had me in his sheets so…I’ll do the second best thing.”

The manager sighs deeply, rubbing his temples in the process. “Tell me this will be therapeutic.”

“Oh, this is a before and after.” She whispers, walking over to the door. “You’re about to see the birth of a new woman.”

Jae Kim is one proud son of a bitch. Tall, handsome, with a dimple on his left cheek and an ass to die for. He’s everything she ever thought she wanted—with not enough spice, but with a smile that could make up for his lack of words. Then, he spoke too much and without caring if paparazzi trailed after her, she went over to his house.

They want to see the devil? They’ll get it. Not in a short skirt, not being banged into oblivion in Jae’s car like he had said, but banging his car instead.

The same one that he had spoken about in that infamous magazine.

Wonwoo rushes out of the car when she swings the baseball bat in the air and smashes Jae’s car’s windows. One. Two. Three and then, four. Each and every single one falling to pieces in shreds of glass against her slipper-covered feet.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Wonwoo questions, standing by her side and sheltering her of any sight of paparazzi.

“Destroying the car that he relished about fucking me in.”

Though a small smile appears on his face, Wonwoo clears his throat before it could fully show his thoughts. “While I think he deserves it, this is bad publicity.”

“Woo, one thing,” She says, swinging the bat and hitting the passenger’s door in the process. “You lose all your friends that feel like your family and they out to the world that they’re going to continue to be a group while you’re left alone and the man you love suddenly uncovers that all he thought about you is that you were a vagina with legs that he only stayed with because it feels good, amazing, spectacular to just fuck someone people want to be with…and you have to act well. Because people want you to be perfect. That’s all you are to them. A board to judge, compare to others and…” Hitting one of the lights, the apples of her cheeks lift up. “Fuck that. I don’t need that. The good girl of funk died today.”

Instead of judging her or leaving her alone, she feels Wonwoo’s fingers sliding through the baseball bat before testing the waters and moving it around his palm, rotating it to catch the best hit. “Why do you have his bat?”

“That’s the bat he used for winning on his latest baseball season.” She replies, looking inside her car and getting out the sharpie she uses for signing autographs. “So, I’m ruining it, just like he destroyed my dreams of love.”

The man stays silent when he swings for the first time, destroying the remaining glass at the front as a shaky smile takes over his features. “What are you writing?”

“Just a message for the paps.” She leans over the hood of the car, hair done a mess, t-shirt oversized on her body and accompanied by basketball shorts, leaving everything to the imagination. Completely different from how she was with The Moonlit Dolls. “If they want my response, I’ll give it to them.”

The sharpie writes over the yellow hood of the car, Wonwoo reading the message out loud as she scribbles it down in neat letters. “Rot in hell, trashbag. P.D, you weren’t that good at playing…me or baseball, I don’t know anymore. ”

With that, she throws the baseball bat inside the car, resting her hands in her waist and looking at the mess she’d done.

“Wonwoo?”

The wind whisks against their bodies. Wonwoo, polished. She, on the brink of crying. But she won’t anymore—she’s tired of it.

“Yes?”

“Take me home, please.” She breathes out. “I need to start writing songs for that asshole.”

###

Think of your favorite album. All time favorite. The kind that you’ll cry and bang your head with when you turn fifty and you just need to remember what it was like to be young. And there it is, the nostalgia. The ‘it’ factor that people love and adore.

It takes months to make a great album, but for her, it has never taken this long.

Two months of staring at her ceiling, trying to return to the persona that she had crafted. The lover girl of funk, who sang into a microphone about the sincere, soft love she had for her now ex-boyfriend. For the guy with the bat that swung at her heart, destroyed her career momentarily, and whined like a bitch to the media when she destroyed his car.

One of the many cars he has, at least. He’s filthy rich.

But love songs aren’t as easy to write anymore. Leave it to the ballad lovers and the people who still believe in romance, but she is not one of them. In most occasions, she just goes back and forth, greets her workers around the house, talks to them for a few minutes that turn into hours and then, she uses the excuse of going back to writing. She tries to rhyme something with ‘boy’ and it just ends there.

She’s not in love with music anymore.

The strings of her guitar become lonely, plucked and exchanged for a piano. And there, seated in front of the endless rows of keys, she can’t think of anything either. The same thing happens over and over again, roaming around the house like a ghost only to meet with her manager at the end of the night. On the rare occasion, someone wants an interview…but given that the press coverage given by newspapers and magazines had died down after The Moonlit Dolls came out with their album as six, she’s left wth silence.

Until today.

Wonwoo is a routinary man. He likes his coffee lukewarm. He enjoys the same kind of music he did when she met him. He wears scales of grays, blacks and whites, and they’re always the same shade. His hair never follows after his instructions with that one strand that always stands out on his forehead, so it’s not surprising when he enters her mansion at eight thirty-seven in the night.

With her legs extended on the armrest of her leather couch, she jots down on her notebook, not caring that her short red silky robe had fallen off one shoulder, the lace of her bra barely peeking through when she sends a smile his way.

Pink is not Wonwoo’s shade. Not until today, when his cheeks blare in said color and he puts his hands on top of his eyes.

“Shit, fuck. I’m sorry.” He turns around, stealing a chuckle from her when she sits up on the couch. Wonwoo believes in the rhymes in gentlemanly words still, and she doesn’t know why. Maybe, he’s the only thing left of real men in this world. “I—I didn’t know you weren’t decent…or…can you just tie your robe properly?”

Loud laughter leaves her lips when she fixes the robe around her body. “Sorry. I was just immersed in writing.”

That makes him drop his hands, though the perfect view of his tinted-red ears becomes the least of her worries when he widens his eyes. “You? You’re writing?”

Shrugging her shoulders, she stands up from the couch. “I think I have the title song of my next album.”

Wonwoo nears her when she sits in front of her piano, an angel in the way his eyes twinkle. “Oh, for your solo?”

“I don’t have a group anymore,” She breathes out, turning her face to the side and looking at his features from up close. The scent of champagne clings to her, dizzy in the way her eyes crinkle and her lips purse. “So, it’s my solo. I’m completely alone in this world, so the least I can do is fight in it.”

Taking the seat next to her, he says: “You’re not alone.”

She sighs at those words. “Woo,” She instructs. “Why have you never been in love?”

He raises an eyebrow, silent for a second, before answering: “Who told you I haven’t?”

“You’ve never talked about it.”

“I don’t work with you to talk about me.”

“But you tell me everything.” The singer elongates in a whine. “How much you love your mom, how your hands tremble sometimes, how your stomach hurts when you eat certain foods. That one trip you had when you were a child and how you wish you could go back to your peaceful place…” Her voice becomes quieter. “I just assumed you’ve never fallen in love…or that you’re just not interested in dating.”

One of his index fingers presses to a piano key before chuckling. Soft, tender, with his thin lips wrapping around his perfectly sculpted teeth. “I have. Tons of times.”

“Tons?”

“Like four? I don’t know.” Wonwoo shrugs. “Love is easy to feel. Hate? Even easier. It’s the hold-out that I can’t deal with. There’s always something that ends it all.”

Resting her cheek against the piano, she breathes out the insecurities that had wrapped inside her body. “I think the same way.”

Wonwoo shakes his head at that. “No.” He denies. “You’re too loveable to believe that.”

Rolling her eyes, she straightens her back. “What says that about me? The short skirts? The upbeat songs? The dating scandals? The money? The hits?” Finally, she reaches a peak, hovering her fingertips over the keys. “I want to be loved for who I am when I’m at my worst, when I can’t even get up and out of the bed. I want to be loved with my insecurities, when they take the best of me and make me lose all judgement, all rationality…” She stops. “And that won’t happen. I won’t be loved for who I was, so what’s the point in pretending to be the pretty, sensual, coquettish ex-doll?”

“What do you mean?” Wonwoo questions, voice raspy, worry bleeding on his tone.

“I don’t need men looking up my skirt, people paying to hear the love songs I write about men that never deserved me.” Continuing, she presses down on the keys, a melodramatic tune starting it all. It’s a new beginning. “I don’t want love, Wonwoo, because it’s all I’ve given the media and look how they’ve paid me. I want power, irony, hate, I want to have a voice so strong people like me will start to think that it’s okay to be alone. That we rise when we don’t depend on others.”

In typical funk fashion, the beat picks up and Wonwoo smiles at the melody. “How’s the song called?”

“Still working on the lyrics.” She says. “It starts off slow, the rain after that moment where life seems not to have a continuation and then, it picks up. People want a show? They’ll have it. But they won’t have the real me anymore.”

Wonwoo closes his eyes, shoulders swinging to the beat as a cat-like smirk takes oves his face. “Who are we getting?”

“I want a wig.” She says, earning sweet laughter from her manager. “And a suit. I’m tired of skirts. I want suits of all colors, bright, tight, loose. I want people to judge me for my dancing skills, my singing, not how sexy they think I am.”

“What color? The wig. What color should it be?” He questions, his gaze burning on the side of her face when she continues playing.

Recalling the shade of his pretty cheeks, she turns to him. “Pink.”

He repeats: “Pink?”

“The brightest pink you can find.”

“Okay,” Wonwoo tilts his head to the side, taking the notebook on top of the piano in between his hands and reading the lyrics. “Wait, why is called ‘I Died’?”

“Because the past few months have felt like that. Like I’ve actually died.” She conquers, shrugging in the process and haltering the song. “But I’m ready to be born again and under my own terms.”

“We’re still going with funk?”

“It’s my soul. I can’t leave funk.” She confesses. “But we’re working on an album and next month, we’re releasing it.”

Wonwoo shakes his head. “Oh no, I’m not about to overwork you.”

“Consider it this way,” Smirking, like she always does, ready to bite the bullet that life brings at her, she rests her chin on his shoulder, staring up at him. “I’m overworking you, sweetie.”

###

Wonwoo was once young and stupid. Think about it this way—what nineteen-year-old guy packs a diamond ring on his pocket, bought in the cheapest price he could find, to confess to the woman he loved since he was fourteen that the only person he saw himself with was her? Even if they weren’t together, to begin with, and she had given him all the signs of ‘I’m into anyone but you’?

That would be nineteen-year-old Jeon Wonwoo. Dumb. Stupid. A reader, but the words he figured out in books definitely did not give him more life-knowledge.

While entering backstage to the concert of the singer he represents, he remembers why he didn’t become Mr. Denied that night. He met her. Seated in that old, raunchy bar, he watched as the woman he loved—Joohyun—got off the stage, her long hair swinging on her curved back, each juncture of her clothing with her body almost making him salive until he saw her.

In a short dress, a little bit drunk, jumping up to the microphone and apologizing for the interruption but introducing themselves as The Moonlit Dolls. Seven women together, just having fun, trying to make whatever they were work.

Joohyun was talented—sulky, tender voice and moving hips that had any man to her mercy, but she didn’t have much to her apart from that. Sang Frank Sinatra on the rare ocassion, but could never write, never perform, never compose. The Moonlit Dolls had just that, and while his boss had initially denied Joohyun when he tried to get her a contract, he had a gut feeling that The Moonlit Dolls were right up his alley.

What did he do? He got them to accompany him on the next Monday to his office, and the young intern that was Jeon Wonwoo got his first recognition for finding a hidden gem.

He pulls the curtains that separate the stage to the back, and what he sees is adorable. It warms his heart in every possible way, feeling as though he’s back to when he was nineteen and he had completely forgotten about his unplanned future with Joohyun just to hear her sing. This time around, she’s not wearing her short and tight skirts and the lights of the stage cast down on the bright pink wig that rests above her shoulders. Though, her vocals never falter and her chorists accompany her with as much excitement as her smile plasters for the public to see.

His old boss, a man that now represents The Moonlit Dolls, had asked him a simple question when the group departed her. “Why do you stay with her?” He asked, with his belly shaking with every word he said, his thick moustache rubbed in between his fingers.

At the time, he only answered: “Because she’s my friend.” Though, now that he thinks about it, seeing her there, she bleeds every portion of music. Raw. Enigmatic. Beautiful.

Wonwoo always had a thing for music.

But—

“Jeon Wonwoo,” A dulcet, saccharine-sweet voice speaks over his shoulder and he turns around to see a much shorter woman. Ali, the stylist behind this new change in funk, smiles up at him while she cradles her notebook to her chest. She’s maybe two years older than him, with a rounded face, big brown eyes and her hair almost always tied in two braids. Cute, really. “Didn’t think I’d see you here today.”

“It’s the first concert. I had to be here.” Though, he was trying to calm down the paparazzi outside. Some celebrities had attended and they were trying to see who was the singer’s next love affair. He crosses his arms cross his chest, taut muscles contracting under the suit before he smiles down at her. “The wig is cuter than I thought it would be.”

“It’s a challenge.” Ali says, looking over his shoulder to stare at the woman dancing on stage, feet keeping up with every word she said. “But she makes everything work. Besides, I’d love to be the one behind this new era of funk with her styling.”

“The suit is gorgeous.”

“Thank you. Had to contact a few people to get it perfectly styled, but she rocks it.” Ali’s voice trails at that moment, a smile taking over her rounded cheeks when she swings back and forth on the sole of her feet. “Wonwoo?”

The man hums, quirking an eyebrow in the process. “Yes?”

“You haven’t called me again.”

Wonwoo doesn’t do relationships often. Not because he doesn’t believe in them, but because he doesn’t have time. Try to explain to someone who wants undivided attention that your utmost priority is your client, who is coincidentially a woman that a lot of people desire, very famous, filthy rich, and who is broken down to tears because of everyone around her leaving her but you. You, Jeon Wonwoo. It’s difficult—so, Wonwoo resorts to the easiest thing, a fling or two with close friends and a promise to call again.

He normally does. With how crazy the world is and how little he knows about strangers when having sex, he would much rather have it with people he knows. Someone whom he recognizes he has a connection with.

Six months ago, Ali was it. She practically put candles up when he went over to his apartment and it felt nice, to be treasured and worshipped for once. To be the center of attention, but each time it happened, he scavanged out of the bed and went over to his client’s mansion.

To check up on her. To make sure she was eating right. To just hear her speak, talk about everything and nothing at the same time.

He doesn’t do that with the people he sleeps with and Ali’s speeches are interesting, though not groundbreaking.

He bites his bottom lip, hissing in the process. “Sorry, I was coaching every city we were going to attend to and I stayed over at the mansion a little too much in the process. I—I haven’t really been alone…”

“Wonwoo.” Ali stops him, placing one hand on top of his chest. “Listen, I look like I’m not the type but I’m the kind of woman that says it like it is. I like you, and I’m sure you liked me when we were together because…it seemed like it. You’re not my first, I know how an interested man looks like.” She whispers, long eyelashes fluttering against her wide eyes. “But if you love her, if you love someone else, I can’t be with you—”

I’ve loved tons of people, he told her months ago when she wrote the song she’s closing this concert with.

But how could he love her? The thought had never crossed his brain. Adoration, yes, of course. He doesn’t think he could ever fully let go of her, but loving the singer that had never looked twice his way?

“I don’t love her like that.”

Ali chuckles. “I believe you,” She says. “But anyone would think otherwise. You’re glued to her hip all the time.”

“She’s my client.” Wonwoo proves with a swat of his hand. “I have to be by her side.”

The shorter woman inspects his features, calculating each of his movements before humming. “You sure?”

Smiling, he says: “Or I could just prove to you how little in love I’m with her.” Though, the words leave his lips and they don’t sound quite right to his ears, much less when he hears the melody of a saddened tune, the start of the song that watched her rise again.

He tries his best not to turn around, but his eyes waver towards where she is sitting, playing the piano with utmost conviction.

“I’m alright with that.” Ali says, trailing her hand down to his abdomen before letting go of him. “Call me next time you’re alone, will you?”

Though, the nod he gives is only to stop the conversation, turning around when Ali is gone to look at the woman on stage. The beam on her features is brighter than ever, but he knows better than to trust it. Tears and frowns gather in the worst of days, and he’s not sure if he’s ready to leave her alone just yet.

###

“”Haven’t seen these in a while.”

With his fingers palming around her hair, she looks over her shoulder to capture the glimpse of the man she knows a little too well. Wonwoo looks like he had just woken up from a nap, not quite used to the jetlag of being in a tour bus with her just yet. Years will pass by and still sleep will ride over him in tidal waves, clashing him to the bed and leaving him petrified.

For the past two months of touring, she has been a new persona. Pink hair, eccentric high notes, suits that cover what had once been the reason why she earned so much money—she took the reigns of her life based on what the headlines said. Wrote songs about betrayal, overconfidence, loneliness, ego…and they became hits.

The radio won’t stop talking about her pink locks, swinging hips and hateful words. And that’s what she wanted, until the lights dimmed and she was back in her tour bus, staring out the window to the cars passing by in silence. None of them would stop if they just knew the real her. The romanticist that feels a bit broken.

“I feel the same way sometimes.” Shivering, she rubs over her arms, connecting her gaze to the road once again when she feels Wonwoo sitting with her on the red leather seat. A brown sweater covers most of his body, accompanied by baggy pajama pants. “The character is starting to take over me and when I’m not as confident as I am on stage, it feels…weird.”

Wonwoo rubs at his left eye, sighing deeply when he says: “I don’t want you to become her, the woman on stage, permanently.”

She chuckles. “First time I’ve heard a man say that.” Her voice lowers, resting her cheek against the couch as she looks into his eyes. “Why?”

“You’re fantastic as you are.”

That’s her cue to let out the least lady-like snort. “Oh yeah, what screams fantastic about me?” She asks, turning around to sit properly and not get dizzy by looking at the road for too long. “My waving feelings? My grounding insecurities? The fact that I can’t fully voice out how I feel unless I do it in a symphony?” The words leave her a bit too quickly, and Wonwoo’s lips curl when he shakes his head.

“Try again.” Wonwoo indicates. “There’s good in you.”

Bringing her knees up to her chest, she rests her chin in between them. “I guess.” A mumble leaves her. “But I don’t see it…” Her voice trails. “My sister once told me there is someone for anyone. That person that will love my flaws as much as I hate them…but they always leave after getting a taste.” She says, eyes twinkling with indemn sadness. “Sometimes, I wonder if whoever created the world forgot to create someone for me. Decided that I wasn’t worthy of a fairytale and—”

Her manager back at her, his hand coming up to her cheek and rubbing over the skin. “Do you know you have a mole here?” His thumb touches, softly, almost like a kiss against her face. She closes her eyes tightly, humming in acknowledgement. “I always thought it added something else to your face. It didn’t make you uglier and it didn’t make you prettier. It just made you…you. If the night sky wasn’t tainted by stars, would it be half as sensationalized as it is now?”

She opens her eyes then, leaning into his warm touch. Craving. Needing. Wonwoo feels a thousand times more necessary these days—and she knows she could probably live without him, but she doesn’t want to. They could give her the most perfect man to have as a manager and she still wouldn’t take him…because they are not Wonwoo.

“Maybe, my personality has a thousand moles.”

“All of us have flaws. Some better than others.” Wonwoo whispers, tracing the strands of her hair and tucking them behind her ear. Since when have his brown eyes become her axis, the reason why her anxiousness doesn’t creep up on her? “Maybe, if you loved yourself with as much strength as you loved the people that broke you, you wouldn’t be having these issues.”

Pressing a chaste kiss to his palm, she breathes out a warm gush of oxygen. “I wonder if someone will love you with the strength you deserve to be loved with, Woo.”

A small smile takes over his features. “I sure hope it happens one day.” He confesses.

The singer, however, is more observant than she lets anyone believe. “Maybe Ali is on the way there.”

Wonwoo shakes his head, laughing. “Absolutely not.”

“Oh, come on, Woo. You’re totally getting it on with her.”

Though, she would never understand why his cheeks blare with her but at the mention of having sex with her stylist, he doesn’t react. “…How are you so sure?”

“One, you two got awfully close at the tour and I know when two people are fucking.” She replies, placing her hand on his thigh when she leans forward, as if sharing a secret. “Why her?”

Wonwoo rolls his eyes, but he’s still smiling. “I’m not talking about this with you.”

A whine rips from her throat. “You knew everything about Jae and I!”

“Because the motherfucker got out of your room with his dick out. I didn’t decide to know about you two and your rendezvouses.”

Sighing, she whispers. “True.” Still, her finger pokes his side. “Well, an eye for an eye. Tell me—”

At the repetition of the last two words, incessant, he sighs.

“She’s just there, okay?” His voice is soft in the mellow night. “It’s not the truest romance. We just help each other not feel as lonely. I don’t have the time to have anyone when…”

Her eyes widen, looking up and down his features when she completes his sentence: “When you have me.”

“That’s not what I mean—”

“You’re…God, you’re always taking care of me. That’s why…”

Grasping her face in between his hands, Wonwoo speaks a tad quicker than usual. “I choose to wake up every morning and spend every possible time with you. Not because I’m your manager, but because you’re the best person I have ever met and I adore you to bits and pieces. Me being with you has nothing to do with you.”

Before nonsense could drape from her lips like a shower of insecurities, Wonwoo interrupts her with a kiss on her cheek.

“Now, let’s go to sleep and stop overthinking. You’re giving me a headache and I don’t have to listen to your thoughts all the time.”

Cackling, her fingers interlock with his, dragged somewhere on the tour bus to take a nap…or have a good night of sleep, for the first time in a while.

###

“Maybe, it’s time you move on, you know?”

When Wonwoo was nine years old, he asked his dad what love was. He said it was a long time. His mom, on the other hand, gave him more of a dreamy answer. She plastered a smile on her face and changed what his father had said initially—she mumbled, while scrubbing on the dirty plates of shared dinner, that love was patience. He never asked again, for Wonwoo thought he would never get to understand it fully.

But Ali doesn’t feel like love. Not with her eccentric baby blue dress and the lights of the club bathing over her body. Not with the way she brings her beer up to her lips after taking a puff of a cigarette. Instead, she dangles her legs off the seat she’s perched on, staring at his client and friend as she talks to a tall, blonde man while dancing, a smile forever taking over her face when in public.

Wonwoo stops holding her waist to pull away, leaving his drink to the side to quirk an eyebrow. These parties are not his thing—he hates club as much as a forty-year-old man who just wants to go home does, but he has to attend them from time to time. It’s publicity for his client and connections with other artists come from this in most occasions. Ali just decided to tag along, something about the killer look she put on their shared client that she just had to see.

“What are you talking about?” He questions, but when he takes a sip of his drink, his hands placed on his lap, he studies the person they are talking about and indeed, if looks could kill, this one would take him straight to the grave. A yellow bodysuit covers her body, the wide pants making her hips stand out, just the tiniest bit of skin, enough for imagination, showcased around her chest but the diamond necklace around her neck spoke of expensiveness.

“You know,” Ali says, jutting her chin out. “She’s earned far more as a solo this past year than she did in The Moonlit Dolls and it’s obvious every manager in the game wants her now.”

Wonwoo chuckles. “She wouldn’t trade me.” If he’s certain of one thing it is that they’re here to ride or die in this long road that is success. He will stand by her side until his last breath lets him—

Ali shakes her head, fingertips scattering across the collar of his shirt, her index finger toying around his collarbone. “Babe—”

“Wonwoo.” He corrects, looking at her from behind his rounded glasses. “I told you not to make this too personal.”

The stylist rolls her big eyes. “All I’m saying, Wonwoo, is that she’s talking to Ahn Seojun right now. The son of one of the biggest managers in the game—”

His teeth tighten under the force of his jaw when he stands up from his seat. “I don’t care. I’m sure she won’t—”

“What’s with this blind trust you have with her, Wonwoo?” Ali questions, tipsy when she gets up from her seat, eyes blaring with anger. He stops on his tracks, turning around to look at her, her scent repulsive in tainted alcohol. “She’s no angel, let me tell you.”

“No one is.” He replies, voice vacant of any extra feelings. “I know she wouldn’t leave me for Ahn Seojun or whoever his father is.”

Ali pushes at his chest, a huff leaving her lips. “Get it through your head. What you have with her is not normal! This is not the relationship a manager has with his client!”

Shaking his head in the process, venom bites at his words, but respectfulness is always kept in what he says. “And you shouldn’t care—”

“Wonwoo, I fucking love you, alright?!” The older woman screams at the top of her lungs, tears cradling her vision when she drops the bottle to the side, pieces scattering across the floor. “And all you fucking do, all y—you’ve managed to do all along is love her. I’m sure you’re with her—”

The man in question raises his eyebrows, taking her by the shoulders to stop her from hitting his chest any longer. Well, that’s trouble. Maybe, it wasn’t such a good idea to get involved with someone from the same staff team as himself.

“I’m not.”

“Look me in the eyes, Wonwoo!” Ali exclaims, voice ragged. “Look me in the eyes and tell me it has never crossed your head that you could be in love with her.”

Three seconds of silence follow after his words.

The darkened walls and moody atmosphere of the club becomes more interesting, eyes wandering as he thinks of all the years he had spent with her. When awakening to the sight of her, smiling down at him and asking him to join her for breakfast, had he thought of love? When seeing her in her robe, ready to work on a new album, had he thought of love? When listening to her pleas of forgetting her past, when growing up was harder than even thinking about the future, mixed with the tears of memories she could never get rid of, had he fallen in love?

He’s not sure. He told her once, a little bit over a year ago, that he had fallen in love a bunch of times…but they had never quite felt like this.

“Wonwoo?” Ali’s voice wavers when she questions him again, but Wonwoo simply purses his lips together, a tight line made out of them.

Love is the patience of knowing she would never be his, but for him to wait forever until he saw her happy. Truly contented. That’s what love is.

And he’ll die one day, most likely, telling his children or grandchildren that he had fallen in love with someone once and he never could say it, but that he did his best to have her live her truest love story. With someone who isn’t her manager, of course.

“I am not in love with her.” Wonwoo lies, fixing the coat over his shoulders. “But you’re fired, Ali. I can’t have you create drama between my client and myself.”

The curses that follow after him when he turns around and goes look for her won’t haunt him forever, but they do that night.

###

A gush of air is stolen from her lungs when the new stylists wrap a corset around her waist over her suit, the lacey white material contrasting against the beige walls backtage. She’s about to perform for a show, and they love seeing better—perfect bodies, sculpted smiles, kicking off with an enchanting lifestyle. No one realizes that celebrities are not truly what they show.

“I can’t believe she said that.” The pink wig had been exchanged for a lukewarm blonde, her eyes elongated by thick eyeliner, the shortest stylist fixing the tie around her neck, the dark gray suit matching his own. Anyone would think she inspired herself off him.  

Little does Wonwoo know that she did.

“Woo,” She starts. “I would never, ever, think of replacing you with anyone. Much less whoever that Ahn guy is. We were just talking about Queen’s latest album because it was a banger. Can’t blame me for being a bit jealous of Freddie thinking about it before I did—”

“I know you’d never replace me.” Wonwoo conquers, pushing himself away from the wall to get closer to her. The stylists move away when he nears her, his hands resting on her shoulders when she fixes her lipstick, thumb rubbing sightly to make the pink a bit duller. “I’m sorry I made you lose your stylist.”

“You should be sorry about the new stylists wanting me to wear a corset.” She jokes, placing both hands on her chest. “The ladies look good, but I’m afraid I could split in half if I reach a high note with my chest voice.”

The man by her side, with long hair in the styles of The Beatles in Yellow Submarine, widens his eyes when he gasps. “Shit, guys, we forgot about the boots!”

The woman by the tie gasps. “No way!”

“Where are they?” Someone else says.

“They’re in the car. They were too heavy to bring them all the way here. Sorry!”

The singer raises her eyebrows at that. “What do you mean too heavy? I have to dance with those—”

But the stylists don’t listen to her, rushing out of their places to get to that goddamned car. Instead, she chuckles at Wonwoo’s reflection, turning around to interlock their hands together. Typical nature of two friends, right?

“You look beautiful, but this is not you.”

“That’s what people like.” She replies, eyelashes fluttering when she looks up and down his face before humming. “I’m sorry I had you break things off with Ali. I just—Well, you decided it. How could she have thought that you were in love with me?”

Wonwoo becomes silent for a second before a broken smile appears on his features. Maybe, he feels uncomfortable about the situation? After all, he has always been a bit closed up about relationships. At least, that’s what she thinks.

“I would be fucking lucky, Woo.” She says, turning around and bending over the vanity to run her fingers over her mascara-coated lashes, not missing the blush that takes over his features. “A handsome, capable, loving, caring, intelligent and sweet man deciding that I’m worthy of love? His love? I’d die on the spot.”

Wonwoo chuckles at her words, juvenile in its approach, when he rests one hand on the small of her back. “You’ll get him one day.”

“He better hurry, then.” Her answer comes quickly, turning around until her chest is pressed to Wonwoo’s, his eyes lost in something she can’t quite pinpoint. “I’m a romanticist, man. I just…I just need a man who knows that he wants me with so much force that he’ll do anything to make me feel loved. And let me love him back, of course, I’m not as egotistical—”

Anyone who looked at Jeon Wonwoo in all his glory—covered in a suit, with glasses and his hair pushed back, would have never thought of him to be the type to be surprising. Though, when his lips melt against her own in the sweetest of touch, capturing her breath when he closes his eyes delicately and lets his body cover her own, her back digging onto the edge of the vanity, she feels a part of her dying. Dying in the best sense of the word, like how it feels when someone goes to sleep and they disconnect for a while.

Wonwoo tastes like the coffee he had earlier this afternoon, with the stain of his heart dragging across the way his lips softly part and breathe out utmost adoration. Her eyes close when her hands relax against his chest, devoring the feeling of being unique for once. Of having someone, that person, even for just a second. He’s soft, albeit a bit lazy, delicate in the way he approaches the kiss and molds his hand against the small of her back, abdomen flushed against hers.

When she seeks for more of him, he pulls away, his eyes crinkling under the weight of his smile when he says.

“I hope you find someone who loves you like that someday.”

Though, his cheeks blare in all shades of pink when he pulls away, fixing his tie when trying to leave.

“Wonwoo?”

“Yes.”

Before she could tell him anything else, the stylists come back with the huge—just not to say humongous—shoes.

And Wonwoo leaves without listening to what she wanted to say.

I hope that someone who loves me like that is you.

###

All she can think about while seated next to the host show, perpetuated in a beige suit with his bald head shining under the harsh lights of the studio, is the man that stands somewhere behind the cameras and that had kissed the tenderness of romance back into her heart.

So, she crosses one leg over the other various times, tries to laugh a little harder and opts to make everyone believe in the public, both at home and present there, that she’s lurking for her fans, taking in the love that they’ve gifted her after being away for so long.

The vinyl version of her album rests against the wood of the desk that keeps the host away from her, laughter leaving his lips when he points at it with his extended palm. Finally, she stops looking at Wonwoo, whose eyes are trained in the scenery with a soft smile on his face and instead, she tries to think of something else.

Why would Wonwoo kiss her? It’s not like…it’s not like he was interested in her, right?

“This is a big blow for The Moonlit Dolls, ain’t it?” The host asks, looking down at his notes with the eye of a reporter. “Seven times a million seller and on the top list of songs to play on the radio months after its release. How do you feel about it?”

“It’s…stellar. I feel like I’m over the moon.” She replies, voice sultry, aspiring to sound humble even whens he knows her tears and pain is plasterd on that album. “I couldn’t have done it without my fans.”

“Did you know The Dolls’ latest album only sold twenty thousand copies?” The host looks up and her heart gets caught up in her throat. Those are the people she once trusted and sure, she would have loved to see them fail on the first few months of grieving their friendship…but they were talented. Sunshine, now the composer, had continued down the sexy and romantic vibe of The Dolls. “Critics called it a failed try to make music for housewives that want to be sexy after twenty years of marriage.”

She hisses, her smile long forgotten. “They’re talented. I have nothing to say about them.”

The host, however, listened to her album in its entirety. “Nothing to worry about. Your album said enough.” Laughter coming from the public, the man fixes the burgundy tie around his neck. “Why isn’t Jae in the album?”

There it is. She spares one look towards Wonwoo and she sees his smile faltering, his Adam’s apple bobbing when he swallows harshly.

“I’m sorry, who?” Sarcasm drips from her voice when she fakes a smirk, leaning one elbow on the armrest of her chair before pointing at the public. “I want these people with me to feel empowered. We can feel complete without someone by our sides. That’s my message. I may not have pulled it through in the past, but it’s what I stand for now.”

It’s not half a lie, but part of her wondered if she would ever find love. Maybe, it’s closer than she had imagined.

“I agree. I agree…” Though, show hosts are known to be pushy. “But you dated Jae Kim for three years. You two were practically the new Yoko and John. What happened?”

She shrugs. “He’s…” Her voice trails, figuring out if she should say the truth or spit out irrelevant lies. “He’s not the subject of my inspiration, that’s it. I just like to separate my job from my romantic life.”

“He doesn’t do that.” The host says, fixing the glasses that rest on the bridge of his nose when he puts her album down. “He dedicated his latest homerun to you, you know?”

That doesn’t do anything to help her situation, and what she wants to do at that moment is stand up and tell Wonwoo that the kiss meant something. That Jae Kim himself, the man that broke her heart, could come over tonight and she wouldn’t even look his way.

“That’s good.” She says, trying to keep her stardom intact. People don’t like a bit of sass. “I think I’d rather be known as something else than Jae Kim’s inspiration behind a homerun.”

The host clears his throat, a smile on his face. “Would you ever go back to him?”

It’s her time to laugh, but when she looks towards Wonwoo, he’s already taking off somewhere else. Shit. “No.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t believe in second chances.”

“But all your songs were once about him.” The host curls his hand in the air, as if stating the obvious. Her eyes divert towards him once again. “Is it, maybe, that the ex-doll has found a Ken for herself?”

This interview is going horrid. This is the moment she realizes that no matter how hard she has worked for the past year, she will always be known for something. A sex symbol that hung around Jae Kim and sported short skirts. This alone makes the corset around her waist constraint her from breathing properly when she shakes her head.

“I’d be lucky to have someone else.” She whispers, looking towards the public before squinting her eyes. “…But that’s never possible. You’re either successful or in love, and when I choose to have both, it ends up plastered on the media. Consumed as if I’m a product.” Leaning back on her seat, she connects her gaze with the host’s. “You see, I’d love to love someone, but I’m unable to. How can I promise someone happiness in the world I live in, when I’m my saddest ever since I started being a celebrity?” Her voice departs a little, broken, when she plasters a smile on her face and chuckles lightly. “So, I’m free as a bird as of now, and not returning to the past.”

Though Wonwoo hadn’t listened, she wished he would have. For, she would love to have him by her side, but she didn’t want to taint him, break him quite like the media did for her.

###

One month passes by without the kiss being spoken about, but the tension is unbearable.

Sure, Wonwoo should have never tried to kiss her. He was irresponsible, if not unprofessional, or all kinds of wrong adjectives when he had decided to lay his lips on her, caress her skin with his own, want to do nothing more than to unleash her realest self away from the corset, over the vanity and kiss her until her lips were swollen. He would have, maybe, taken her out for dinner later and hoped to lay by her side by the end of the night, with each breath of her own mingling with him.

But he couldn’t. He knows he can’t. Not when he promised to be her manager, with a contract and all, and wanted her to succeed. What would anyone think of him if they saw her with her in front of a camera? Or even worse, what would the media think? She had gone from successful, rich men with snarky tongues and scandalous sex lives to the tamest man she could find.

His pencil taps against his agenda, seated on the passenger’s seat as he reads their schedule for today.

“We don’t have much else to do.” He states, the black, sleek car they find themselves in matching his dark suit. He stares up, studying her profile when he spits out: “The studio has been scheduled for tonight. You can record anything you want until two, and then, we’re off to sleep.”

Though, she doesn’t seem to be listening, her natural hair tied behind her back, sporting baggy clothing when she lifts herself off the seat the slightest to look through the review mirror. “Shit.” She grits through her teeth, sitting straighter and picking up the pace of the car.

“What’s going on?” Suddenly, she’s rushing through the streets, her eyes widened and her jaw tightened in hatred.

“Someone is following us. The paps.”

“What?” Wonwoo has never been in this position. He’s always the one sneaking her away from the paparazzi, not the man caught with her on camera. “Are you sure?”

A short, sarcastic laugh leaves her at that. “I’ve been in this business for long enough to differentiate a normal car from a paparazzi’s.” Though, she’s rushing through the streets, moving away from their normal road towards the studio to lose them. “I don’t want them to capture you in camera.”

That brings a pang to his chest. Of course, she didn’t mind it when it was Jae Kim or one of her love affairs. Not when she’s in parties or drinking to her heart’s content. That kiss meant nothing to her, perhaps embarrassed her beyond a tainted friendship. “It doesn’t matter. People know I’m your manager either way—”

“I don’t want them to talk about you, Woo.” The nickname drops from her tongue sweetly, looking through the review mirror and giving another harsh turn. “I don’t need them to ruin the only good thing left in my life. I don’t want anyone judging you or comparing you to the past because—”

“Why would it matter?” A bitter tone follows his statement. “I’m nothing special. If they talk about me, they will forget about me as well—”

“Goddamn it,” She curses, harshness in her voice when she tries to voice out her concerns. “Wonwoo, listen to me!”

“I just don’t get you!” His voice rises as well, losing his poised tone. “All celebrities are accompanied by their manager!”

“But you’re not just a manager to me anymore, stupid ass!” She conquers, his voice growing tinier when he hears her argument. She manages to lose them with one more turn, not a fit farther away from the city than they were at the beginning, but he can only concentrate on the way the street lights cast down on her face, shadows merged with beauty. “I—I…The night you kissed me, all I could think about is how I don’t see you the same way, Woo. I’ve never been kissed like that.”

His lips remain sealed for a few seconds, before a grin appears on his face. “Whoever didn’t kiss you like you deserved was crazy.”

“I don’t want people to know about you because I want to make things right.” With that, she parks the car, tall trees and shadowed spots keeping them hidden from the eyes of the world. They’re just two people who no one cares about at that moment. “It’s not about the kiss, but it’s about the person, Wonwoo. I want to be able to have you for myself and I would rot in hell with jealousy whenever I saw you with Ali. I want to be able to feel love and give love to you and only you, because you’re the only person I have known and the only one who has wanted to get to know me.” She turns towards him, fingertips spread on the steering wheel as she speaks. “I don’t need a love story, but I want one with you. Because if there is someone in this world that could be my person, that one created for me, it’s you.”

Emotions wash over him so fast he can’t mention them when crossing his head. Love. Adoration. Patience. Resolution. It’s when his eyes look down at her face, at her lips, the clothing that clads her and differentiates her from the persona she is on stage, does he realize that he was never in love with music…or her music. He wasn’t in love with the rhymes or the love songs.

He was in love with her.

If he had to tell this story to his grandchildren, he wouldn’t know who gave the first step and connected their lips. Her hands fist the edge of his jacket, not caring about the uncomfortableness of the cramped car, kissing him with tenderness and patience, but with that air of necessity that comes with the slow movement of her lips. His hands tangle on her hair, tilting her head to the side as he does what he did a month ago…and God, how he missed it.

He doesn’t know how he spent thirty-one days not doing this, not craving for this.

It’s then he realizes that he hasn’t been in love a bunch of times. Or well, he has—he has fallen in love with her in numerous occasions, like a fool would, dragging his hands down to her waist and bringing her over to his lap as he plants seeds of small kisses across her lips, her cheeks, her neck, her collarbone, a shaky breath leaving her when she rests her hands on each side of his face and pleas—

“Please, Woo. Tell me you’ll give us a try.”

###

1972.

“D—Do you think I ask her to go out with me?”

When he recalls the story of how he found The Moonlit Dolls, he almost always forgets Jeonghan was there. For, the man was wasted, as in, he couldn’t even think straight when he looked up from his position on the table and connected his gaze with the singer he had just met tonight, dancing to her will with an enormous grin on her face.

Wonwoo is there for Joohyun—a lover boy through and through, and he knows Jeonghan is the type to get who he wants when he wants it. With his long black hair tucked behind his ears, his stench of whiskey and his intelligent smirk, Jeonghan could try it with the vocalist and see what ensues, but his stomach twists, turns, in a way that comes with a bit of egotistical nature.

Sure, he’s not going to have anything with her. He’s certain of it, but she’s too pretty for Jeonghan. Too unique.

“I don’t think you should.” Wonwoo says, crossing his arms across his chest. “I think she’s way out of your league.”

Jeonghan scoffs at that, long fingers rubbing at his pink, blushed face before asking: “And who’s a good match for her? You?”

With a sip of his beer and a tilt of his head, Wonwoo studies the woman on stage. No. She’s too impossible. A client is more of what he sees in her. “Only in my dreams.” He replies then, a smile taking over his features when Jeonghan swings him by the shoulder.

“You want her for yourself!”

He chuckles. “I totally do not.” But, he stands up before Jeonghan could—not that it is that difficult, his friend is as shit-faced as he could get—. “I just want to be her manager, that’s all.”

Jeonghan takes the last few droplets of his whiskey down his throat before chuckling dryly. “Give it time. You’ll be head over heels for her.”

And that was the night they met.

###

“It’s still surreal at times, you know.”

Laying next to Wonwoo, with his nimble fingers tracing the curve of her shoulder, his arm weighted down by her back as they look up at the ceiling of her bedroom, his naked torso underneath her cheek while she plays with the outline of his ribcage by his side, never once stopping her train of thought.

His chuckle reaches her face, shaking her slightly when he rests a kiss on top of her head, albeit a bit too short. “What does?”

Though, when she interlocks her bare legs with his, looking up into his brown eyes, she only lets out a soft smile, innocence an irony to the situation they had found themselves in minutes earlier. “That I have a secret boyfriend and it’s you. Out of all people.”

Wonwoo quirks one of his sculpted eyebrows, asking: “Would you want it to be someone else?”

Hovering her face over his, she pecks his lips once before shaking her head softly. “I wouldn’t want anyone else but you.” Though, when she lays back on his chest, his heart still picking up its pace even after four months of dating, she questions: “Does it bother you?”

“What do you mean?”

“That you’re kept a secret.” She mumbles, turning around to rest a kiss on his sternum before resting her chin on top of his hard chest.

Wonwoo has to think about it for a moment. Sure, he had always been the kind of man women would introduce to their parents, whom people made plans with on the long run, but he doesn’t mind it. If anything, he would be petrified if he happened to be caught by the cameras.

So his thumb reaches for her chin, lifting her face up the slightest to part his lips and let his tongue softly caress her bottom lip. He delves into the feeling of her, closing his eyes softly and daydreaming about their future when she relaxes against him.

With one hand resting on her back, and the other sparcing across the mole he adored on her face, he says: “I don’t mind being your secret as long as I’m yours.”

###

WOMEN IN MUSIC – Why the most famous funk singer decided to never date again, and how it worked to her favor in her career.

The eighties are crazy, Wonwoo has figured out. Headlines are better for women, at least, but journalists are still very superficial in what consists of getting to know an artist. With a deep brown suit resting over his body and his hair resting under his earlobes after he had decided to let it grow, he watches his fiancé pose for the cover of her third album.

I Chose You, the album was titled, though no one knew about it yet. The blurring sunshine and pink skies behind her were gorgeous as she sported another styling change, not as reckless and seductive as her initiative in music; and he couldn’t be prouder. There, with the sand bathing his stylish and elegant shoes, he sits back and reads the newspaper. About his girl. Claiming that her last love and the man that broke her heart was none other than Jae Kim.

Her heart’s alright, if anyone is wondering.

But what surprises him is how his new assistant takes the newspaper in between her hands, the tall and slender woman reading over the article with studious and small eyes before gasping lightly.

“Shit,” Hana curses, her bleached and long blonde hair cascading down her back and moving with the wind as Wonwoo studies the celebrity that poses naturally in front of the cameras. “I wonder what it takes to get someone like her to cave in…”

The sun masks the faint smile on his face, his hair moved by the wind when he crosses one leg over the other. For once, he feels tranquil, much more when she connects her gaze with his and sends a smile his way.

“I think it takes bravery.” He confesses, though he’s sure Hana and none of their team know about their relationship. They have kept it a secret, through and through. “She’s too much of a woman for most men.”

Hana nods along to what he says, looking down at the article. “And do you think she’ll find someone someday?”

Maybe it’s crazy, but Wonwoo doesn’t think they found each other. He likes to believe all roads would have led them to meet. “Give it time.” He shrugs. “I’m sure someone will come.”

Though, the laughter that threatens to slip his lips doesn’t leave him, he loves the irony in what they are.

Two people who asked each other where their destined soul was, not noticing that they were meant to be.

Or, alternatively, Wonwoo wanted to ask her out that night at the bar when he met her and Jeonghan was about to do it, but bravery never came his way.

Patience brought him all the power to finally kiss her, though silent in his approach, still getting the best outcome.

PLAYLIST: leave the door open – bruno mars ; adore you – harry styles ; lmly – jackson wang ; hold up – beyonce ; maniac – conan gray ; i hear a symphony – cody fry ; japanese denim – daniel caesar ; vienna – billy joel ; someone you loved – lewis capaldi

[celestialgaea]

hello, noticed ur requests r open! is it okay if I could ask for a fic of Ezio/F!Reader with the theme of jealousy coming from Ezio? thank you if you accept my request! your works are amazing!

I have been wanting to fulfill this request for such a long time but I went through quite a rough period and I always felt the guilt of letting you wait linger upon me. I am so sorry for letting you wait. I have not forgotten you, your request was always in the back of my mind and I'm grateful for finally being able to write again!

I hope you enjoy the fanfiction!

(Request) Ezio Auditore x F!Reader // Jealousy

Warnings: (slight) mature content

Pairings: Ezio Auditore x (Female) Reader

summary: You are Leonardo's apprentice and have gotten the assignment to draw the naked male body from different perspectives. But when Ezio is paying a visit to Leonardo he doesn't seem very delighted with his lover drawing another man's private part.

You had underestimated the assignment. When Leonardo first told you about drawing a naked man you hadn't perceived the false comfort of your own assurance, who convinced you into thinking that seeing a fully bare stranger is nothing but the nature of a human being, as an illusion. Until the horrific scene of the young male, probably in his early twenties, slowly discarding himself off his clothes manifested itself behind a wooden changing screen.

Your mind kept replaying the former scene of the young male talking in slight shock to your maestro about how the apprentice was a women. A women that would create an image of his private part underneath the blunt end of her charcoal stick. During the open conversation, as the man was not ashamed of his shock whose cause leant more towards the fear of visible arousal than the mysogenistic side, his face and neck began to change into a more reddish skintone.

'Y/N,' Leonardo whispered, pointing towards his chest. 'Cover a bit of your chest, Ragazza. The poor man is quite...weak. I don't want you to get horrified.' You scoffed as you pulled up the fabric of the nightgown underneath your dress. 'Forgive me, maestro, for showing fertility.' You mocked. Leonardo shook his head, as if he were trying to remove his excessive thoughts to make more room for your shameless remarks. 'Ragazza, you know that I have no problem with your breasts, and i'm sure you know why, But this kid is as mature as the mosquitos that flied above Cleopatra's head during a scorching summer night. Be prepared that his "pride" might show itself."

Your heart began beating faster at just the mere thought of it, and the rustles of the male's fabric rubbing against each other as they fell onto the ground, entangled into one big flood of linen and leather, made his presence very clear and thus brought tension in the air that encircled you. 'Giovanni, Dannazione, are you almost done, boy? You're taking too long!' 'Maestro, no!' You whispered as annoyance took a hold of your voice. 'Ragazza, time is precious. And in these times of uncertainty I cannot lose any more.' And with that he turned his back to you and walked towards his desk not far away from your seat. You noticed how Leonardo's slouch has grown heavier over the past months, and his neck was more bent, as if it was bowing to his brain; the holder of his talent and geniusness.

Even though your eyes kept flickering through the various parchments filled with unfinished sketches and scrabbles you were still able to see the faint and disorted sillhouette of Giovanni walking from behind the changing screen towards the small wooden stage in front of you. His feet seemed humid as they loosened themselves from the floor with a sound similar to wallpaper being pulled away from a tacky wall. The boy slowly uncovered his private part, exposing a dark bush of intertwined curls, but when a knock on the door disturbed him he quickly covered himself again as the door was getting pierced by his anxious eyes. You regretted looking at it.

'Maestro, who is visiting?' You heard the sighs of parchment before Leonardo scurried towards the door.

'Ah. It's good to see you my friend!'

'It's good to see you too, mio amico.' The sonorous voice whose melodious words and promiscues groans swiftly danced towards you to embrace you in its tenderness was only able to come from one person only; Ezio Auditore. And it seemed that the young man wasn't fond of Ezio's presence.

'Maestro, I thought no one was allowed to disturb?' Giovanni's voice was a batter of shame and growing annoyance as he stood there with only his hands to cover his private part. Ezio glared at you. He saw you, he observed you, viewed you with spurned astonisment and the displeased look in his eyes made you grasp onto the understandment of why he was as fearsome as he was charming.

'I am unsure wether to turn to leonardo or you for an explanation, mia cara.' Leonardo had his hands up, almost touching Ezio's chest. 'Ezio, I have given her the assignment to draw a naked man.' 'Then why didn't you ask to draw me in nudity? There would be more flesh to capture than what that boy beholds.' Ezio surrenered himself uncontrollably to his impulses and attacked the poor Giovanni with his spit-filled words . 'Ezio, leave the boy out of this! He hasn't done anything and secondly; do not begin with the "Then why didn't you ask me", Because you know how scheduled you are. This is merely for educational reasons.' It felt sinful to get enraged with Ezio, but he had never behaved this attacking towards an innocent man. Along with his birth came his short temperance and even during the scorching season of maturing the searings left by his short temperance refused to heal.

'Educational purposes?' Ezio pulled at the leather skin of his gloves on top of his index finger as if he was planning on slapping the vulnurable model with it. 'Since when did looking at a cazzo become an educational enlightment?' The gloves were put on the table -Thank the Lord- together with his defected hidden blade. Ezio walked, no, he stomped towards a wooden chair that stood desolated in a corner collecting the flying dust and bits of dried paint that fell of a "failed", as the old man is still a perfectionist, da Vinci painting that towered above the chair.

Ezio let the chair ballance on its two front legs and allowed his dissatisfaction to guide his hand as it smacked the pieces of paint and dust particles off of its sitting surface. And how surprisingly odd it may seemed, you felt the muscles around your lower stomach contract in an ebb and flow that left trails along the flesh of your womanhood. He was angry, and so were you, and yet you felt aroused by him just uttering his jealousy to a lonely and motionless chair. For a few seconds you visualized those same rough hands whispering against the surrface of your weeping arse before turning them into a lovely shade of red. Ezio carried the chair and let its feet hit the ground next to you.

'Ezio, what are you intending to do?'

'Accompanying you.'

Oh, how he liked blending himself within the schemes of colours so his robes of red and white were the most appealing to look at.

'I do not need company. I'm doing very well on my own.' Ezio's fingers ran along your clothed thigh and gripped it sturdily. The lack of shame was transparant on him, removing the presence of Leonardo and Giovanni out of his realm of reality, as the humid warmth of his breath hugged your ear lobe.

'Ragazza, stop being hard-headed. I'm surprised that the boy is able to remain his excitement in custody. When I was his age,' 'Your cazzo had impregnated almost half of Firenze's youth. Not everyone is as rebellious as you were.' To your surprise, Ezio had remained silent. It seemed as though the sudden flare up of the middle aged consciousness had possessed him again and the teasing hand was removed from your thigh to fill in his crossed arms. His boyish teases were vanished. The man in his mid forties had appeared again; the outer corner of his eyes were folded into deepened curtains, the corners of his mouth were surrounded by the crescent-shaped smile lines which vitalized the apples of his cheek and if you looked at it with a certain view, not through the eyes of a classical artist, but through the eyes of a daydreamer, a madman, or a child you could play with the lines and follow it until his cheek slowly transfomed into a smooth segment of a rock being caressed by the spirals and curls of waves or maybe strands of hairs or whatever can be curly and spirally. Ezio grunted, focusing on the model, especially his croth area.

'Come one,' Ezio leant in to whisper in your ear, again.

'My cazzo is way more appealing to look at than his.'

'Ezio!'

[lucky-dreamfisher]

Queer Subtext in The Illusion of Living - Part 2/3

So, Joey met Sammy and this is what happened:

“Sammy Lawrence was one of my best decisions. Even though it was one I made two years after my original team had been put together. A man of great talent.” TIOL, page 182

“I stared at him in shock, and that was when the memories came flooding back. The ones of him playing the piano along with the movies. That was him. That was the same fellow I knew I knew him from somewhere! I knew my gut instinctively understood his genius.” TIOL, page 189

“I'd been so impressed by the quality of the music that I'd hardly noticed the film. I remember watching this young man's long skinny fingers rush across the keys with such confidence and speed. “ TIOL, page 182

Joey isn’t even watching the film, his focus is entirely on Sammy.

“And so, as you can see and as history clearly shows us, my greatest mistake turned into one of my greatest accomplishments. I'd never trade Sammy Lawrence for anything. His creativity is pure brilliance and he always chooses the best people. “ TIOL, page 194

Sammy though is extremely rude to Joey.

“Now that was a song," I said as Sammy walked over in my direction. He stopped to look at me in that way of his. Always suspicious, always looking for something more. “ TIOL, page 187

“Show me.” I nodded. "Of course, let's schedule a tour for some time this week," I said. It was reasonable of him to ask and I was a reasonable person happy to fulfill that request. "No," he said, inching toward me. "Now." "Now?" "Now." TIOL, page 190

"I want to see what this studio makes." He walked out of the room and I had to jog out after him. " TIOL, page 192

“Sammy didn't say anything, we didn't shake hands. He just stood up and left the room. " TIOL, page 193

Joey is understandably upset.

“Yes, he said it in that dismissive tone. I didn't understand why he needed to talk to me like that. I didn’t respect that. I was starting to doubt my own judgment. Did I really want to offer the opportunity of a lifetime to someone so extreme in their indifference? " TIOL, page 188

Yet it seems like the meaner Sammy is to him, the more determined he is to impress him somehow.

“I realized now that Sammy had been wise and I'd maybe been a bit of a fool. This definitely did not look impressive. " TIOL, page 192

“I had a sudden urge to give him a shove. Not push him over, but just to see his reaction. This might sound strange, but I needed to see a human moment from him, I needed to see the man he was hiding from me. " TIOL, page 188

That last line...

And now for the most interesting part.

“His musicians worship him, he's almost a god to them. "They respect me, that's all," Sammy once said when I told him that. "Who does a god worship?" I asked, still joking with him. (...)"A god of such magnitude hasn't been created yet." I laughed. "Well maybe someday." TIOL, page 194

And exactly 3 pages later

“Quite frankly, I was interested in being God. Ha, I know, a sacrilegious thing to say, but I know no other way of putting it. “ TIOL, page 197

He doesn’t mention his fantasies of becoming a God at any other point in the book, so the timing is... interesting. Almost like it’s directly linked to his deep internal need for receiving validation and respect from Sammy.

Despite all the awfulness coming from Sammy (which seems to be just his usual personality), there are some signs that Joey’s obvious crush may have been reciprocated.

“I always tried to get him to joke around more. It was always a bit strange to me that someone so serious could create such fantastic comic work. Sammy shook his head and sighed. But he indulged me a little and played along. It was a big effort for him to do so, so I was pleased.” TIOL, page 194

He plays along, even though it’s not something he particularly enjoys, because it’s something that makes Joey happy.

There are more signs in the other canon sources, such as the Handbook, where Sammy defends Joey’s bullshit in the newspaper:

Or the game, where he mentions visiting Joey’s “Sanctuary”

It’s worth pointing out that “artistic” used to be a codename for gay people back in the 30s, and that Sammy had long hair, which was another typical sign of homosexuality. Though I doubt this was the original intent behind these details, its still a fun thing to note.

(From “Gay New York: Gender, Urban Culture, and the Making of the Gay Male World, 1890-1940″ By George Chauncey.)

It seems that other people also took note of Sammy’s unusual loyalty towards Joey.

“I wouldn't say I was lucky to get him as part of my team, nor that I'm lucky he's stayed with me all these years, though I've been told that in the past and I happily say, "Darn right I am!" when people do say it. But, as I always say, luck had nothing to do with it.” TIOL, page 181

Jack seems to notice the closeness between them as well:

"Well this is a fun memory lane to travel down, but since I'm not a part of this journey, I'd like to bring us back to the present and include me again," said Jack. I glanced at him and saw a weary expression flit across his face before the brightness returned. It was the first inkling I had that there might be a bit of a strain between the two. ” TIOL, page 189

As for why Sammy sticks by him, Joey says this:

“It was my research, my ability to understand and appreciate true talent, and of course, my vision that inspired others to want to work for me. After all, I can't make anyone do anything, even as a boss; they have to want to.“ TIOL, page 182

This isn’t entirely true, as Joey could and did make people do things they didn’t want to, but it seems like Sammy was allowed significantly more power in the studio than anyone else.

“Finally Sammy spoke again. "I want full creative control over my department. I want to hire my own people. And if the money isn't good, I'm not signing the contract." "Done and done," I replied. ” TIOL, page 193

“I never visit Music, as Sammy and I agreed that I would only come by if we had scheduled a visit. Some creative people are just that stubborn and need their privacy. ” TIOL, page 227

Finally, there’s this little detail, from Joey’s daily schedule:

“9:00 a.m.:The first of my daily meetings.This one is with Sammy. The man is punctual and brief. We always schedule a full fifteen minutes and he rarely takes more than five. Jack joins at 9:15 a.m., there is a brief crossover and then he usually stays for a cup of coffee and a chat.” TIOL, page 225

Sammy wraps up business discussion in 5 minutes, but Joey always schedules 15, and the next line strongly implies that Sammy is still in the room at the time when Jack joins them at 9:15. If Joey and Sammy aren’t discussing business, what are they doing for the remaining 10 minutes?

I’ll leave this to your imagination ;)

[nutty1005]

Xiao Zhan, welcome to the cruel entertainment business

Original Article: https://mp.weixin.qq.com/s/6qaJPp9O1exu4M8xtbt71A Original Author: 杨晋亚 Translator’s note: The original author is part of Yuli Studio, this article is published in Yuli Studio’s Weixin Official Account on 15 Sep 2019 as a part of “Behind the Screens” Volume 210.

“I never thought it would happen this way, this was fated.”

A month ago, he was just accepted by audiences due to “The Untamed” and just became one of the most popular actors. Now, he had to take on the responsibility of a movie’s box office as the main lead actor, and show his worth to the movie industry.

Three days before “Jade Dynasty I” aired in the cinemas, Yuli Studio met up with the nervous Xiao Zhan, who told us his fears, “Movies, well, they are very direct, very pragmatic and very cruel, so there’s no choice, since we’re already here, I just have to work hard to do my best.”

With traffic and popularity, comes others’ views and opinions – some expected him to withstand the stress of the box office, but there were also others waiting to laugh at his failure. “Jade Dynasty I” was the first obstacle Xiao Zhan was breaking through, and the path ahead was still long.

Xiao Zhan, welcome to the cruel entertainment business.

Xiao Zhan at “Jade Dynasty I” Press Conference

01

Looking back at the movie journeys of all the traffic actors, no one was like Xiao Zhan, who took on a movie while he was still a nobody, and this movie aired just barely 2 months after he made a name, putting his resource conversion ability to a public test.

On the first day, the box office was 142 million, on the second day it broke 200 million, these were the results “Jade Dynasty I” achieved during the Mid Autumn movie season, which exceeded many people’s expectations. The first day was with fans support, the second day still had interested moviegoers, Xiao Zhan’s first time as the lead actor on silver screen and he miraculously withstood the box office.

“Jade Dynasty I” Super Topic + Maoyan Movie Professional Box Office Chart

This was Xiao Zhan’s third time on the silver screen.

The first time, he was a little monster dressed in flowery clothes in “Monster Hunt 2”, drowned in a sea of group actors, almost unnoticeable as the camera panned past him in a second. The second time, he was a special agent, a side character that barely had 1 minute of screen time, in “The Rookies” during that year’s summer movie season. The third time, he became the main lead actor and took on the entire movie, presenting the process of innocent Zhang Xiaofan becoming a demon.

The production team of “Jade Dynasty I” revealed that, whether or not Xiao Zhan became popular, the movie was planned to air on 8 Aug, however because the post production was incomplete, hence it was shifted to the Mid Autumn movie season.

Director Cheng Xiaodong said that the luckiest decision he made for “Jade Dynasty I” was to cast Xiao Zhan, “I never thought that his acting would be so natural so good, he is not pretentious, and he is very humble, when you tell him something he will listen and improve.”

Stage photographs from “Jade Dynasty I”, Xiao Zhan before and after demonizing 

On set, Cheng Xiaodong even actively added some scenes for Xiao Zhan, for example the scene at the start of the movie where Xiaofan was fantasizing about his senior, Tian Linger, “I found that he could act in all layers, he could do dull and dimwitted, he could do the demonizing transformation later on, so this movie he had many layers, the pace kept changing.”

To Xiao Zhan, Zhang Xiaofan of “Jade Dynasty I” was an unforgettable milestone, it was considered to be his toughest filming. Filming in conditions under 20°C and being blown by a giant fan, hung upside down for a free fall of 30 meters, in order to maintain his sense of the role, he even turned off the heater in his trailer, just so that his body will adapt to the temperature outside.

Before “Jade Dynasty I” aired, Xiao Zhan once said, “If the reception of the movie isn’t very good, I just have to work harder in the future. If it was not bad, then I am grateful that you saw my hard work from that period of time.”

After the movie aired, Xiao Zhan became the center of discussion for “Jade Dynasty I”. The movie’s quality was the result of an entire movie crew’s hard work, but now that all the discussions had landed on Xiao Zhan, to a certain degree, that was the price to pay for fame.

Stage photograph from”Jade Dynasty I”, Xiao Zhan as Zhang Xiaofan 

02

On 23 Aug, there was a video on Weibo that was reposted a few tens of thousands of times.

In the video, Xiao Zhan had just ended a day’s filming, and after he got off the car, the 20 over fans waiting at the hotel entrance got rowdy, they blocked Xiao Zhan’s path and took pictures of him in his face using their phones. Spotting a gap at the side, Xiao Zhan suddenly took off running, and then he safely entered the elevator.

During the filming period of “The Oath of Love” recently at Wuxi, crazy fan actions were happening everyday as Xiao Zhan went to and from his work, sometimes they would surround and block him in the underground car park, sometimes when he got into the car they would forcibly block the car doors from closing, sometimes they would knock on his hotel room door to stuff notes to him.

Xiaofan, a staff who worked around Xiao Zhan said that the sasaeng problems was already very serious, the company wanted to provide him two assistants and security guards, but Xiao Zhan insisted not to.

“Because he didn’t want to give off the impression that he started acting like a big shot after he got famous.”

During the interview, Xiao Zhan spoke about the sasaeng problems again

From the media’s perspective, we have witnessed many artists change after they got famous, some would have a star aura, some would be exuding confidence from in to out, Yuli Studio’s reporter Lanpangzi once visited the set of “The Untamed”, and one year later met Xiao Zhan again at the “Jade Dynasty I” press conference, Lanpangzi discovered that Xiao Zhan was still as warm and accommodating like the boy-next-door.

At the backstage of the press conference, a few tens of guests spoke to Xiao Zhan consecutively, he was smiling at everyone, and slowly fulfilled each and everyone’s request to take a photograph together, and only until 4pm that afternoon he was able to finally have time for a few mouths of a lunchbox. The continuous non-stop interviews started at 4.05pm, all the reporters wanted a photograph together, and he tried to accommodate even under such tight scheduling.

After becoming famous, Xiao Zhan had more and more interviews, and if he was not careful, he would be accused of putting on airs if the arrangements of the interviews were done wrongly. Xiaofan said that Xiao Zhan himself was especially aware of this point, “He is now even more nervous than before, and he had expectations of all of his staff, please don’t think that he is putting on airs just because of our errors.”

Xiao Zhan at the “Jade Dynasty I” Press Conference

After joining the “Jade Dynasty I” press conference in Beijing, Xiao Zhan had to quickly fly back to Wuxi to continue filming.

Before “The Untamed” finished airing, Xiao Zhan had already entered the filming for “The Oath of Love”, and filming while at the height of his fame would mean that he would miss a lot of event opportunities. When his fans were worried about his limited exposures, Xiao Zhan’s thoughts was that: “What’s there to be worried about, I feel that an actor’s life comes from his works.”

In fact, Xiao Zhan had received a lot of invitations from many events, so his biggest worry was how he could maintain his normal acting condition.

“Some events you just had to complete, and then I had some commercial obligations prior, like that day at Suzhou, that was a contract that I signed then,” Xiaofan said, “the last thing that Xiao Zhan wanted to do was to take leave.”

Xiao Zhan’s current schedule at “The Oath of Love” was from 8am to 10pm, if he had to take leave, it meant that when Xiao Zhan returned to the set he would have to work overtime to film his scenes.

Stage photograph from “The Oath of Love”, Xiao Zhan as Gu Wei

The performance teacher accompanying the filming , Yang Xu, witnessed Xiao Zhan’s helplessness and anxiety.

“His load in ‘The Oath of Love’ was especially big, basically we could only discuss his scenes that day while he was doing his make up in the morning, because the filming would end very late at night, I wanted him to go back for more rest. Moreover the fan problems now are too prominent, sometimes he would also talk to me a bit, although I don’t think this incident affected his mood or his performance, but it definitely affected his normal resting time.”

For a while, Yang Xu was very worried about Xiao Zhan’s condition, but what surprised him was that, although the filming would end very late at night, but by the next day, Xiao Zhan would have memorized his lines and made full preparations before coming to the make up room.

“That was what made him powerful, and I found that he would actually really use every bit of spare time to prepare for the role and his lines, for example, while doing his make up, even when going to the toilet, he would be holding the script, and then during the rest period after filming every scene, he would be reading his lines with me while drinking coffee, because lines reading needed partners, I said you just take me as your partner.”

When he was away from the set on leave, Xiao Zhan took late night flights between Beijing and Wuxi almost every time, and in the photographs taken by his fans at the airport, he would also be reading his script.

Stage photograph from “The Oath of Love”, Xiao Zhan as Gu Wei 

Every early morning at the make up room would also be the spare time for Xiao Zhan and Xiaofan to talk about their work and release stress.

“Now he does not seem to enjoy the applause and glory from the opportunities that came with his sudden fame, a lot of it was some anxiety and confusion,” in Xiaofan’s eyes, these two months in Xiao Zhan’s life definitely changed.

“Suddenly, we experienced a lot of things that we don’t quite understand, it could have been a small mistake at work, but we would gain the attention of anti-fans or fans. He is more of an introvert, he doesn’t go out to entertain, stays at home more, leads simple life, and suddenly his life came under the spotlight, wherever he went there will be fans following, he was definitely anxious.”

The seniors in the industry would also give Xiao Zhan some advice, and share with him some of the survival rules in the entertainment world that he had not experienced. “For example we will having having a fun conversation, or someone would be telling some something he does not know about in the industry, the next day he will tell me that the conversation made him quite excited, he learned a lot, I feel like he is a sponge like person, continuously absorbing,” a senior in the industry revealed.

Xiao Zhan 

03

On 10 Aug, a day before the filming starts for “The Oath of Love”, performance teacher Yang Xu finally met Xiao Zhan again.

The script for “The Oath of Love” was given to Yang Xu quite early on, Xiao Zhan also wanted to quickly get into the preparation for this role, but because the promotion schedule for “The Untamed” was too tight, they did not manage to squeeze out some time to discuss about the script face-to-face.

“That day’s morning he just fixed his costume, we only met briefly at night,” Yang Xu recalled, but what put him at ease was that Xiao Zhan already made full analysis and preparation of the script, “At that time, I felt assured, his analytical skills of his roles were getting stronger, he was already able to analyze the script independently.”

Yang Xu, who was once a teacher in Central Drama School, participated in many dramas, such as “Nothing Gold Can Stay”, as their performance instructor. When he joined “The Oath of Love”, it was already his third time working with Xiao Zhan.

Stage photograph from “The Oath of Love”, Xiao Zhan as Gu Wei 

While filming “The Untamed”, Xiao Zhan told the visiting staff from Yuli Studio that he wished to improve his lines. After finishing “Jade Dynasty I”, Xiao Zhan proactively went to Yang Xu for a few classes.

The airing “The Untamed” in this summer made many viewers notice the actor Xiao Zhan.

In the “Bloodbath at Nevernight City” in episode 32, Wei Wuxian stood on top of a roof, facing off the accusations from all of the sects, crying and laughing, unable to explain himself. In this part, the Yiling Patriarch’s rage was at his max, and it was Xiao Zhan’s golden moment of his acting abilities, and many drama fans were surprised to find out that the filming of that scene was done in the same day as another scene – that day’s morning was the filming of youth Wei Wuxian in the library, and at night he immediately went into the condition of the Yiling Patriarch dying in Nevernight City.

We asked him how he could film such extreme conditions within the same day, Xiao Zhan confessed that he himself did not know, “I saw some gifs and clips, if I had to suddenly redo this scene, I don’t think I can outperform that me then, I guess that time it was the accumulation of time and condition, maybe that period of time I had already blended into the role.”

Stage photographs from “The Untamed”, Wei Wuxian at Nevernight City and the Library

Drama fans attributed this to Xiao Zhan’s “self-sacrificing styled acting” performance method, in the drama, Wei Wuxian depended on someone to use the “self-sacrificing curse” 16 years later to resurrect – this “self-sacrifice” meant that Xiao Zhan gave himself entirely to the role of Wei Wuxian.

To Yang Xu, Xiao Zhan’s instinctive acting method, where he became the role, actually came from this “sincerity”, and this was where the advantage of Xiao Zhan as an actor lied.

“Xiao Zhan is a very sincere person, I spoke to him then that sincerity is a very important quality in an actor. This sincerity meant that he could 100% give away himself, he was the same when he was taking classes with me. Because when we were practicing, he also needed to share some of his privacy or live experiences, he would share them very sincerely.”

Stage photograph from “The Untamed”, Xiao Zhan as Wei Wuxian

Yang Xu felt that the introvert and quiet Doctor Gu from “The Oath of Love” was more like Xiao Zhan in his everyday life. But Xiao Zhan felt nervous about this role having similarities with his own character, because he felt that he had not acted in any contemporary dramas. Before filming started, he constantly asked Yang Xu about the differences between contemporary dramas and period dramas, whether he was to portray life as more at will compared to period dramas.

Yang Xu told him, at its core they are acting out human emotions, therefore he must truly experience the life of this character, and then build a realistic communication with his partner.

“Yang Zi is a more quick-witted actress, her performances are very varied, if at this time Xiao Zhan wasn’t about to build enough communication with Yang Zi, or not focused enough, then the two of them might not be able to match up. But what’s good is that Xiao Zhan is very sincere, and he could receive Yang Zi’s performance, and then reply with his layered emotions. I was on set watching a few of their scenes, I personally feel that Xiao Zhan did very well.”

From “Jade Dynasty I” to “The Oath of Love”, Yang Xu saw the growth of Xiao Zhan within this half year. During the process of working with Yang Zi, Xiao Zhan became willing to try more variations, willing to breakthrough his fixed style of acting, and look for changes in every scene and every line.

“He is very concerned about how he crafts every single character, he has his own expectations of his performance and profession, he will never be satisfied with his results and what he has attained in performance. He will forever be seeking, and with this seeking, he will have motivation to learn and grow. And he is very talented, I always tell him, you definitely can become a good actor.”

“The Oath of Love” Character Poster

04

We reverse the time back to early 2017, Xiao Zhan has just joined the filming of “Battle Through the Heaven”, as the minor role Lin Xiuya.

Then, Xiao Zhan had just entered the entertainment industry for barely a year, and acted in a web drama that he jokingly called it his “dark history” later on.

During the performance classes before the filming of “Battle Through the Heaven”, Xiao Zhan stood out from all the newcomers, not only because of his outstanding looks, but also because he was well-mannered and polite, very hardworking during the filming, and left a great impression on the staff.

“Battle Through the Heaven” was filmed throughout the Chinese New Year period of 2017, the new actors did not go home, and one of the seniors in the crew was talking to them, telling them that as a singer in China, their career progression might be more limited, and they should go down the path of acting, but the path of acting is a path of no return, they could only move forward and not backwards, therefore you will need to put in everything for it.

Stage photograph from “Battle Through the Heaven” Season 1, Xiao Zhan as Lin Xiuya

Born in 1991, Xiao Zhan was the representative of “over-aged commoner pursuing an entertainment business dream”, he only started to learn dancing at the age of 24, debuting as a part of a boy group. That spring, the 26 year old took in what the senior said, and started to consider the possibility of changing his career path.

At that time, Xiao Zhan was not confident, he felt that he came from an idol group background, and he was not sure if he could become an actor. But one of the strengths of Xiao Zhan was that he would not consider whether he could or not, instead, he would “choose, I just want to do it well, do it first, we’ll see the results later”.

Just like him starting to learn dancing with no foundations, but he saw effects after a month; during the idol competition his mentor Shu Qi suggested that he train his gaze, and a few weeks later he started to shed off the commoner in his gaze; in the transformation to become an actor, the senior encouraged him to lose weight first, and come to the set of “The Wolf” 3 months later, he really lost 10lbs.

“The Wolf” was Xiao Zhan’s entry work, followed through the entire drama as a part of the lead actors, and gained an acting quality improvement from 0 points to 50 points. A member of the staff revealed that hotels with better conditions were further away from the set, and in order to leave more time to acting, Xiao Zhan took the initiative to pick a hotel that was near the set despite it having worse conditions.

Stage photograph from “The Wolf”, Xiao Zhan as Ji Chong 

During the filming period of “Battle Through the Heaven” and “The Wolf”, transforming from a singer to an actor facing cameras, that sensation once caused Xiao Zhan to lose the sense of himself, unsure how he could let the audiences believe that he was that role. During the filming of “The Untamed”, Xiao Zhan was still not confident enough, compared to the newcomers around him that came from acting schools, Xiao Zhan did not have any advantages.

“My thoughts and intentions had always been very simple, that is I want to do it well,” Xiao Zhan said, during the filming of “The Wolf”, he filmed in the day and took classes at night, writing his acting analysis in the late night, he also broke down once or twice, writing them while crying, but eventually he persisted.

The seed of stubbornness and refusal to admit defeat is deeply rooted in Xiao Zhan’s body, as a child he would go to Shaoniangong every weekend to learn drawing, and nothing would keep him from it, because that was something he wanted to do from his heart; when competing in the idol competition, facing many teammates who were from music academies, he thought to himself that “if you could do it, then I could do it too, and I’ll do it even better”; when filming, he believed that viewers would not be concerned whether he came from an acting background, but the most direct answer would be whether he acted well or not.

“The Untamed” finally brought the actor Xiao Zhan to everyone’s notice.

That summer, he became the entertainment business’s new top traffic power, his supertopic firmly in the top three, all kinds of gossip forums had posts about him, and “Jade Dynasty I” also showcased his appeal.

Stage photograph from “The Untamed”, Xiao Zhan as Wei Wuxian 

Why was he able to receive so much love this summer?

There were many within the entertainment circle that looked well upon Xiao Zhan, two of them could provide answers or a type of assessment:

“Xiao Zhan used his acting abilities to conquer me”; “I see the shadow of every worker on him, he carries the hopes and dreams of every man pursuing a dream.”

There was a microblog titled “Recording Xiao Zhan’s every man moments” that obtained 330 thousand likes, and within it, fans shared many little stories about him.

For example, after living for 28 years, Xiao Zhan’s most prideful moment was to have his logo sell well as a designer; the backgrounds of his group’s concerts and the web drama’s slides were all drawn by him; his mobile phone home screen was the God of Fortune, like every person who hoped for a sudden windfall.

One part was the recognition of his working capabilities; the other part, the Xiao Zhan, who became a designer after graduation and went through a year of working life before pursuing his “entertainment business dream”, was indeed very different from the idols that were cultivated from the idol machine, he came with common sense and life experiences, his past was definitely able to resonate with every man.

Xiao Zhan 

05

A fan once sent this microblog – Xiao Zhan’s temperament is so good, perhaps it’s because he had been honed by his clients. Xiao Zhan himself replied her with a meme: “What do you mean?”

The experience as a contractor, plus always facing people with a smile, everyone’s first impression of Xiao Zhan was that he was a gentle person with a good temperament.

Xiao Zhan always habitually considered others’ feelings first.

Staff Xiaofan revealed that the previous assistant was not capable enough, made a lot of mistakes, but Xiao Zhan never lost his temper at him.

Yang Xu accompanied Xiao Zhan every morning in the make up room for script reading, there was once Xiao Zhan had insomnia the night before and was in a bad shape, he took the initiative to apologize to the teacher, “That day I could feel that he was actually very tired, but he still tried his best to maintain his condition to discuss his role with me, later on he came to me and said, teacher I’m sorry, my condition was bad in the morning, you took still so much effort to explain the role to me, I feel quite bad, you can come slightly later, otherwise you’ll feel bad looking at my current state. I was very touched then, I said you just rest well and don’t worry about me.”

In the idol competition, someone once questioned Xiao Zhan’s character as passive and unenthusiastic. To Xiaofan, this is because “he is always humble and polite to people he doesn’t know well, and he’ll treat everyone with a sense of propriety.”

A reporter once asked Xiao Zhan if he was a Mr. Nice Guy. Xiao Zhan replied, “I feel that those who feel like this are probably acquaintances. People who know me very well will know that I’m actually quite stubborn and quite strong-headed.”

Xiao Zhan 

Xiao Zhan said, he did not like to make the atmosphere uncomfortable, he hoped that everyone could all be harmonious.

But in the “Secret Garden”, Xiao Zhan will unexpectedly shed off this shell of warm smiles and display the tenacious edge in his heart.

Xiao Zhan had a microblog that held the heartfelt words between he and his fans, and some words Xiao Zhan would quietly post in the comments, and those who care for him would always see it.

Last year after “The Untamed” started filming, there were those who believed that he would rise to fame very quickly, but there were also those who mocked him for “being famous on credit”, Xiao Zhan, who had a nickname “Brother Wealthy”, quietly posted a comment on the sentiments then, “I have money, I don’t go on credit.”

In his daily life, Xiao Zhan does not like to cry, he said he has given all of his tears to his characters. Once in a while, everyone can also see that soft Xiao Zhan coming out of his protective shell. Last year during the Hangzhou concert, he looked at the hall full of his fans’ support, singing the song, “Satisfaction”, that his fans fought for him, he tried to keep in his tears.

After bursting to fame, whether Xiao Zhan will continue to display his strong or soft moments, we would not know, but Xiaofan revealed that the staff do not control Xiao Zhan’s microblog postings, the “Secret Garden” continues to be his method of communicating with his fans.

But we can be certain that Xiao Zhan is slowly learning and adjusting to the rules of the entertainment business, becoming more careful, he will sometimes tell his staff, “We need to be more careful than before.”

Xiao Zhan’s Mid Autumn greetings 

06

The night after the premiere of “Jade Dynasty I”, Xiao Zhan secretly went to record a program at CCTV. That night at 8.30pm, word from the scalpers circle came out, “Xiao Zhan’s activity, those who can come to the area near the world trade center message me! Limited seats! Hurry!”

Later on, there were a lot of fans gathering at the north entrance of CCTV, and until late night at 11pm, there were still large groups of fans quietly waiting. Xiao Zhan and his staff would sometimes wonder, when would days like this ever end, but they also understood that this is an anomaly, things would slowly stabilize after a few months, and the future still depended on his works.

After completing the filming of “The Oath of Love”, Xiao Zhan will go through a period of rest and adjustment, and enter filming again at the start of next year.

“What worried him previously what that he didn’t know where his opportunities were, didn’t know which path he should take; now of course he’s firmly decided on being a good actor,” Xiaofan revealed.

Xiao Zhan at the premiere press conference of “Jade Dynasty I” 

His vlogs since his debut, until yesterday when he spoke to everyone online, Xiao Zhan always started with “I am still Xiao Zhan”.

After rising to fame, Xiao Zhan told himself that he needed to work harder in his life, and work hard to remind himself to stay common and still be that very initial Xiao Zhan.

However, no one would be able to foresee the possibilities of Xiao Zhan in his career, “No one restricted that I have to be this type of Xiao Zhan my whole life,” since he is someone who likes to stay on his feet, and very willing to try and change.

Entering this cruel entertainment business, Xiao Zhan still continues to be a honorable working class, lying on his sofa after knocking off; traffic comes and goes, he tells himself that he should not compare with anyone else, he should only compete against himself, and be a long distance runner.

Only passion and sincerity can withstand the long and slow passage of time.

Xiao Zhan looking at that year’s fireworks

[bbugyu]

how seokmin knew

a journey with yoon jeonghan, lee seokmin, and you.

from the second seokmin first saw you, he thought you were far too good to be true, and he hadn't even gotten to learn the best parts of you yet.

prelude | part one | part two | part three | epilogue

wc.8888 | fluff, smut, courtship, oh jeez where do i even begin, the beginning i guess, polyamory, fem reader, musician!seokmin sugar daddy!jeonghan escort!reader, threesome, fingering, oral (everyone receiving), creampie, cumpla (like gunpla but with cum), (sorry), (but seriously lots of cumplay), overstim, switch!seok dom!han switch!reader, phone sex, snuck in a babygirl, hell yeah fighting for dominance, let's talk BOUNDARIES, hi mingyu, sorry but seokmin being a special guest is hot as hell, the required listening for the last scene is the album "new edition (1984)" by new edition (which is a real lp i own and listened to while writing it)

hELLOO!! welcome to my poly seokhan au! i have been neck deep in this universe for weeks now and i am finally releasing it in three parts! i will be posting today (obvi), tomorrow, and friday at noon pst, plus a little bonus epilogue whenever i finish it! today is all about seokmin and how he fell in love. i really poured a lot of myself into this one, between the poly reader and the obsession with architecture and the record collection (three fun facts about me, but you get no more context), so if you like it, please let me know! i did my best to portray the relationship as realistic and as healthy as possible❣️ also this series lowkey became a “how many cameos can i naturally squeeze in” kinda piece so if you spot one u should absolutely let me know hehe. and i edited my masterlist to accommodate for serial aus, let me know what you think!

please read the prelude linked in the contents of this post! it gives important context for the beginning of this part, establishes relationships, and sets the general mood 😏

~

seokmin lived a fairly simple life. he held private piano and guitar lessons in the comfort of his apartment, vaulted ceilings and tall windows helping to bring a bright, airy, studio environment during the day that he felt suited musical lessons perfectly - not the mention the lovely acoustics the tall room provided when he sang, belting out improv musical theater riffs as he scrambled eggs for a sandwich. he genuinely found joy and pride in helping adults and children alike train their hands to achieve new heights. he also did some contract vocal lessons at an entertainment company, stopping by the studio two or three times a week to train young new hopefuls in the music industry. he wondered how different his life would have been if he had taken their path, but he enjoyed the quiet downtime in his line of work, and wouldn't trade it for anything

his simple life. he drank tea in the mornings as the sun rose over the skyline, rode the subway with his guitar bag over his shoulder and his groceries in two overstuffed ecobags, and enjoyed his days off by relaxing in his home, scribbling down lyrics and compositions on the legal pad that never left the music shelf of his upright piano. the less simple part of his life could be described simply as you.

the second time he had been summoned to accompany you, he had been at home, heating up leftover takeout and mindlessly watching some drama on a saturday evening after having gotten lunch and playfully wasting the afternoon with a friend, when he received a phone call. he answered it without giving too much thought, expecting an invite for drinks, as was usually the case when he heard from jeonghan. he put it on speaker and set his phone on his kitchen counter, leaning against it as he ate.

"hello?"

"minnie!" he had said, the smile obvious in his voice. seokmin responded with a short greeting before jeonghan continued. "are you busy tonight?"

"just watching tv," seokmin said, spoonful of fried rice in his mouth. "why? you feeling lonely?"

"something like that," jeonghan said. the architect must have been in the car, he thought briefly, hearing the static noise of wheels on pavement in the background every time he spoke. "listen, you remember y/n, yeah?"

he nearly choked. "uh, yeah. of course. did you think i would forget?"

"not really," he said matter of factly. "we're currently heading home after that exhibit opening and she's been asking about you all day. any chance you can get to my place in half an hour?"

seokmin blinked, staring at nothing as he processed. "tonight?"

a laugh. "yeah, tonight. she's been really sweet lately, i thought you could be her treat."

her treat. "right now?"

"yes," jeonghan laughed again. "right now. if it helps the decision making process, i've had my hand between her legs this whole time and she gets needier every time you talk."

seokmin swallowed harshly, imagining you squirming in the passenger seat of the car, huffing and desperate, begging for him with jeonghan's fingers curled into you. he adjusted against the counter, his pants suddenly feeling slightly tighter. "i'll get a cab."

then he heard you, your signature whiny moan as jeonghan no doubt worked you into a mess despite his even tone as he spoke. "y'hear that, sweetheart? he said yes. i'll pay for the cab when we get there. see you soon?"

"yeah," he said, eyes still unfocused. "yeah, see you soon."

after jeonghan asked you to be an angel and hang up for him, seokmin stood and looked around at his leftover fried rice and the drama that continued playing, remnants of his simple life that he found plenty enjoyable and fulfilling on its own, but fell to the shadows as you came into the light.

the cab ride felt too fast, and jeonghan's car pulled into the driveway of his luxurious home only minutes after seokmin arrived. he emerged from the door of the cab and stood in the late november air as the other car parked, the passenger door swinging open in a hurry.

"seokmin!" you squealed, heels clicking against the drive as you ran up to him in a shoulderless, long sleeved jewel toned dress that was not at all suited for the current temperature. your arms wrapped around his neck and he laughed into the hug. "i missed you."

"it's practically snowing," he chided, pulling away to wrap his coat around you, and you happily fell into his chest. he didn't stop you when you pulled his face to yours, kissing him briefly but deeply. you tasted familiar, memories of eating you out entering his mind as he thought about how jeonghan had likely made you clean his hand in the car, and despite your forwardness and his generally shy nature, it wasn't the winter air that sent chills up your spine when he muttered "i missed you, too," against your lips.

"okay, kids, get inside while i pay the nice driver," jeonghan said, holding out your coat to seokmin. he took it, draping it over your bare shoulders. you grinned at him, working your fingers between his and leading him towards a side entrance of the home.

he felt a flash of embarrassment, wondering what the cab driver must have thought about the interaction he was witnessing, but seokmin figured that he had probably seen much stranger and decided to not worry about it, especially when you were regaling the events of the evening.

"they were playing classical," you groaned, punching in the door code with the hand that wasn't fiddling with his fingers. "from a cd. at a modern art exhibit. what part of that makes sense?"

seokmin laughed. "is that why you were thinking about me?"

you smiled as he followed you through the doorway, revealing a grand kitchen with a large island countertop. he had been here before, but on halloween, when it was full of life and the counter was covered in food. "jeonghan may have let me watch some videos," you said, and seokmin felt heat rising on his neck as he thought of you asking to learn more about him in his absence. you stepped out of your heels and walked towards the large fridge as you spoke, retrieving a water bottle. "that jazz piano number you did, jeonghan said it was at a bar? that would have been so much better, especially considering the artist's vision. his stuff was so full of life, i'm honestly surprised he allowed them to do anything other than live jazz - classical was too stuffy."

"it was a commentary," jeonghan reminded you, closing the door behind him as you offered a bottle to seokmin. "juxtaposition of traditional museum atmosphere with outlandish architecture and colorful, emotional art pieces," he said, sounding rehearsed. "the music was supposed to feel stuffy compared to the visuals."

"you guys worked too hard to settle for that," you shot back. you may have held a little resentment for the fact that jeonghan hadn't even asked for your opinion on the matter, considering you were less than a year away from a degree in musical theory. "if i hear clair de lune at one of these unveilings one more time, i'm gonna tear my fucking hair out."

seokmin laughed, but jeonghan only gave you a tired chuckle, and only after you quirked an eyebrow at him. he should have known you were only acting impressed at the exhibit because you wanted seokmin around. jeonghan could be cruel, but not so cruel as to invite a friend over to make his lady's night, only to deny everyone the pleasure after he already arrived, and this was a fact about him you were completely aware of. now was your chance to act out with little to no sacrifice - the most he would do is punish you in bed, and that, you were willing to handle.

jeonghan tsked when he saw your laptop and schoolwork spread across the kitchen island. "didn't i ask you to not do this?"

you eyed the counter, noting the teasing tone he took. "not do what?"

"leave your shit in the kitchen. you have a whole room to do schoolwork in, make a mess in there," he scolded, clicking his tongue as he flipped a textbook shut.

"i work better in bright, open spaces," you said quickly. 

"i gave you a window to the sunroom."

"and i love it," you stated obviously. "and the desk you chose is nice, and the chair is super comfy, but it's still too dark in that room. it makes me want to fall asleep." you turned to the musician. "how have you been, seokmin? i haven't seen you in weeks, and jeonghan purposefully keeps secrets when you guys go out."

seokmin said close to nothing of substance as he said he was doing well and leaned against the kitchen island, focusing more on the way you shrugged the fuzzy coat off your shoulders and setting it in the counter to tuck your arms into his, wrapping them around his torso and resting your chin on his shoulder to give the man of the house a flirtatious look. jeonghan simply rolled his eyes at you with a faint smile on his face, taking off his own outer coat and going to hang it in a closet. you hummed as seokmin spoke about anything he could think of, smiling when you felt his gentle, hesitant fingers rubbing circles into the small of your back.

and that night, seokmin was perhaps too eager to secede control, allowing his friend to gently order the two of you to do whatever pleased him. currently, you were between his thighs as he laid out comfortably in jeonghan's bed, the architect fucking into you from behind as your voice went hoarse from sucking seokmin dry. his thick cock stretched your jaw to its breaking point, but your neediness for his cum on your tongue outweighed the soreness you knew you would feel the next day as you bobbed your head, your hands wrapped around what wouldn't fit. he choked, his fingers itching to reach out to you, but remembering jeonghan's firm words of no touching and gripping the sheets instead as he came into your mouth and you moaned around him. jeonghan had stopped you from swallowing completely, a hand around your throat as he pulled you against his chest, forcing your neck to crane around so he could share the treat. seokmin watched, hand involuntarily going to pump himself again despite the sensitivity, as his release dripped down both of your jaws between the feverish kisses. you whined, jeonghan continuing to thrust into you as he stole the gift seokmin gave you straight from your mouth, his fingers finding your clit, making your knees shake as he came in your pulsating cunt.

that was the first time in his life that seokmin had ever cum twice in one session, having been too turned on at the sight to even think about not having you ride his face, cum seeping out of your precious hole. too turned on by the way your fingers dug against his scalp and the way you tasted to even think about turning down jeonghan when he asked to touch him, groaning against your core as he slowly and teasingly jerked him off. too turned on by it all to even think about not cumming when he was told, fist clenching the now familiar sheets as you rolled off him, panting from the overstimulation. your face was wrecked, tearstained and flushed, as you collapsed into his side, wrapping your arms around his torso and burying your hot face in his neck, his own face not much better. jeonghan proudly announced he was off to take a shower, sucking a line of cum off his thumb before saying that you lovebirds were welcome to stay as long as you would like, fully expecting you two to continue without him as he walked to the bathroom. 

seokmin felt shy, for some reason, despite having just having taken a shower with you, and just before, having had sex with you both. you had asked him if he wanted sweats or a shirt to sleep in, saying jeonghan wouldn't mind if he borrowed some. he turned you down, but watched you tug a far too large shirt over your otherwise bare form, and let you lead him back to bed.

"it's a custom mattress," you told him, giggling as you pulled him onto the oversized bed, kneeing yourself to the center and plopping down next to where jeonghan was wasting time on his phone. you planted a kiss on his cheek and he looked up to smile at you before you turned back to seokmin. he noticed the duvet changed, and he wondered if jeonghan had swapped it out after the mess they had made on it. you maneuvered yourself under the covers, gesturing for him to join you. "c'mon," you said. "we cuddle here."

seokmin had never even considered the idea of spending the night in bed with two other people, but found it surprisingly comfortable for it being his first time.

he did a lot of firsts with you, as it turned out.

you started to text him when you were alone and bored, which was something you and jeonghan had discussed with the strict understanding that you would have open and honest talks about it frequently, and that you would let him know any time you reached out to the musician. the first time he ever had phone sex, seokmin was busy at the company he did contract work for, and he had even told you so after the first suggestive text you sent him, but that didn't stop you from sending him increasingly dirty ideas and photos, making him silence his phone and shove it in his back pocket as he tried to focus on his students. when he finally slipped away to a private bathroom, he groaned at the way you looked, laid out on a plush couch and squeezing at your own breasts, with your back arching just so, and he quickly called you to ask if you were trying to get him fired.

"maybe if you get fired, you can come work with me," you whined, fingers already teasing your slick folds just at the low tone in seokmin's voice. his mind whirring as you gasped suddenly, revealing that you had already started. "jeonghan's been too busy for me this week, please don't tell me you are, too."

seokmin's eyes squeezed shut, back hitting the bathroom wall as he pulled himself out of his pants, trying not to drop his phone from his ear as he imagined how absolutely delightful you must look in that moment. "i'm never too busy for you, baby."

jeonghan took him out to dinner. it was normal, mostly, and not the first time since seokmin had seen his dick, but he noticed the older was acting slightly different as seokmin turned the meat on the grill.

"about y/n," he said finally, and seokmin fumbled with a chunk of pork before clearing his throat.

"yeah?"

jeonghan smiled. "she hasn't said it yet, but i think she really likes you."

that made seokmin freeze, suddenly thinking about how he was at dinner with his undefined sext buddy's long term partner. "really?" he squeaked out.

"listen, i want you to know," he said, picking off some cooked meat and chewing it casually. "whatever happens between you two, i'm okay with it. she promised to keep me in the loop, and i trust her."

seokmin nodded, putting down the tongs and grabbing his chopsticks, continuing to avoid eye contact. "okay."

jeonghan laughed. "stop acting like i'm her dad. you and i are in the same relationship with her at this point."

he swallowed, a smile creeping across his face. "well, she does call you daddy."

the next time he saw you, you came to him, appearing at his apartment one early tuesday evening as his last client was leaving. he greeted you casually, but still snuck a quick kiss on your lips as he let you in, his student packing up their guitar. he took your winter coat and told you to make yourself comfortable as they finished up, telling you where the restroom was if you needed it, but in a tone that made you think he was saying it more to announce to his student that you had never been there before than for your comfort, which pulled a quiet giggle from you as he quickly organized his loose leaf sheet music into their designated folders. you watched him from the piano bench as he made short conversation with his student, accepted a check, and bid the aspiring guitarist farewell, closing the door behind them. when you were finally alone, seokmin blushed at the realization that you had been smiling at him the entire time, thinking about how his client must have thought their teacher had gotten himself a cute girlfriend.

you were less forward this time. less needy. you flirted, but not in the outright ways you had every other time seokmin saw you. you stood and joined him by a bookshelf as he put away materials, asking him about his day (quite lovely, especially with this to look forward to), what he had eaten for lunch (he'd gotten ox tail soup delivered as a celebratory meal for a student that just had their first solo piano recital that weekend), and how he managed to command authority in all his students when he always looked so darn cute (he had pitched his eyebrows at you and went "yah," but was unable to keep a straight face long enough to argue with you). you smiled, taking a baseball off the bookshelf and turning it over in your hands, and asked why he invited you over. he cleared his throat, saying he thought it'd be nice to take you out on a proper date, but faltered when your shining eyes caught his.

"a proper date?" you asked, smiling slyly.

"i- uh, yeah, i mean-" he cleared his throat, hand finding the edge of a table as he tried to figure out what he was trying to say. "people generally treat you in exchange for your company, right?"

"generally," you agreed, focusing on his standup piano on the far wall as you thought. "i don't want you to, though."

“i didn’t mean-” he stretched his jaw - a nervous habit that you had begun to notice - as he readjusted his approach, not wanting to imply that he wanted your exchange to be purely transactional. "i just wanna take you out. for real."

you gave him a small smile, knowing what was the case despite your teasing. "okay. it's a date."

to change the subject from one that seokmin clearly didn't know how to continue - and besides, you weren't hungry enough for dinner yet - you returned the baseball to it's display and asked him how he taught his lessons. he laughed, not because your question was funny, but because he didn't know how to answer it in a way that didn't sound like a pitch to a potential client.

"then teach me like a client," you demanded playfully, skipping to sit at the piano bench and turning to grin at him.

seokmin took a moment to look at you, with a knit sweater tucked in the front of a pair of loose jeans - a far cry from the tight fitting, short dresses he normally saw you in - sat in his apartment as the last remnants of sunrays dipped behind the skyline. "you know how to play," he said finally, but walking over to join you anyways.

"teach me like i don't," you said as he sat beside you, scooting over slightly to accommodate. "i'm very good at acting incompetent."

he laughed again. "normally, people pay me for this kind of time, but i'll give you an intro. we'll start with hand placement," he said, gently putting his hands on the keys. "starting position is important, even though you'll be moving around the keys a lot when you actually play. your thumb," he said, wiggling his right thumb and smiling when you giggled. "it starts on c. that's your root."

"oh, right," you vocalised, placing your right hand similarly an octave up from his. "music has a bunch of letters, huh?"

"only the seven," he joked, pulling his hands off the keys as you comfortably set your fingers where they belonged, a motion you clearly made often. "wow, are you sure you're a beginner? you picked that up fast."

you knocked him with your shoulder, giggling. "quick, what do i do next?"

he smiled. "try pressing the keys in order. c to g, thumb to pinky. be firm, this isn't an electric keyboard. it can sense fear."

you sucked on your cheek, smiling at the way seokmin explained things as you played, but used your pinky to strike the black key instead of g, giggling at the flat note. "oh, that sounded wrong. this piano must be out of tune."

"stop," seokmin said teasingly. "beginners don't have that kind of pinky dexterity, by the way."

"maybe i'm a prodigy," you said, grabbing his sleeve with both hands excitedly. "you have to teach me, mr. lee! you're the only one that can help me hone my gift."

"stop it," he repeated, laughing, giving you a fake glare. he put his hands back on the keys. "lesson over."

you pouted, but it was short-lived as he began to play. you watched his hands effortlessly move over each other as you listened to the gentle flowing melody. despite being classically trained yourself, back when you were young and your parents felt you needed the discipline of regular lessons, you found yourself being impressed by his deft finger movements. your eyes shut, and you let your temple fall to his shoulder as you listened.

"yiruma," you said when he stopped playing despite the song not being over.

his arm went over your head, allowing you to lean into his chest as he planted his hand on the bench behind you, your eyes still shut. "you know your stuff."

"it's one of my favorites." you smiled, eyes fluttering open again. "you play well."

your breath stopped in your throat when you realized how close his face was to yours. "have to. people pay me to teach their kids."

"jeonghan pays me to be nice to him, doesn't mean i'm good at it."

seokmin couldn't help but laugh. "how did that even start, by the way? he would never tell me when i asked."

you sighed, straightening your posture. "i suppose you should know, considering this is becoming a regular thing."

"you don't have to if you don't want to," he assured quietly. you smiled at the thoughtfulness. "i'm just curious, is all."

"i don't mind," you said, shaking your head gently at him. you inhaled, organizing your thoughts - this wasn't a subject you explained very often. "i had a scholarship for the first two years of uni, but i would have to pay tuition afterwards, so i decided to become a paid escort to save for it." you paused to study seokmin's reaction, but for the first time from someone other than jeonghan, you found no creased brow, no vague frown. no judgement. "men would hire me through a broker to accompany them to dinner, go to parties, the general stuff. i even played golf a couple times - terribly, obviously, but rich men really enjoy teaching young pretty women how to play golf. i always got a cab ride home at the end of the night, though. never did anything more. jeonghan was one of my clients."

seokmin nodded. "how long did you do that for?"

despite how you would normally take that question, you knew he meant no shame in asking. "ten-ish months? jeonghan was only for the last month or so, though."

"before he asked you to quit?"

you laughed lightly. "actually, someone else asked me to quit. this guy that had been hiring me regularly for almost my entire career. he wanted me to date him properly. i think he wanted a trophy wife. he was young, like, only a few years older than me, and he was nice, y'know? a little awkward in the beginning, but paying someone to go out with you is always a little awkward, and we got comfortable with each other pretty fast. he wanted to take the next step with me, but he wanted the end goal to be marriage."

seokmin adjusted as he thought. "but you said no?"

"i said yes." his wide eyes made you laugh, but you understood his shock. "i was ready to quit anyways, i guess?" you shrugged, shaking your head. "i wanted to go on real dates instead of getting paid to eat with men my parents' age. yukwon felt realistic to me. someone i could see myself with." you sighed. "i went out with jeonghan during my last week of escorting. when i told him i was quitting, he asked me to choose him instead."

he watched you when you paused, pursing your lips. "and then you said no?"

you giggled, bumping against his chest as he laughed with you. "i tried! but jesus, when that guy gets an idea." you shook your head again. "he asked how much yukwon was paying me - which he wasn't, by the way. we were going to do it for real, even though he was still gonna support me financially and pay for my schooling. i was gonna sign a prenup and everything - but jeonghan kept saying he would double it. said i didn't have to marry him, and that he just wanted to keep spending time with me, and if i wanted to call it quits later, i could. no pressure, no sex, no commitment… he gave me a choice, and i realized i didn't love yukwon. i thought i could, but i didn't."

"so he saved you?"

"from a lifetime of settling? i guess so. he's funnier, too," you admitted sheepishly. "i always had the most fun on nights i was with jeonghan."

seokmin smiled. "he is good at lightening the mood."

"and," you said, eyes wide. "he didn't even want us to be exclusive, said i could keep escorting or go on dates with other guys if i wanted, as long as i promised to make time for him when he wanted me. it was kind of the perfect arrangement."

seokmin nodded again. "was, being the operative word?"

you laughed, remembering how well he knew jeonghan. "lasted less than a month. we spent too much time together, and i quickly realized that every time i went out with someone else, i wished i was with him. to be honest, when i met you, i thought this would be a one time thing, so i may have tried to make it seem a little less involved than it is." you sighed. "we never really defined what we were. i think we've both always known that he was more than a sugar daddy to me, but he does basically pay me so that i can keep my schedule open for him, so i guess it's easier to tell people that? instead of everyone assuming i'm some gold digger taking advantage of his money?" you shrugged. "i do love the guy. i'm about 94% sure he loves me, too."

that made him laugh. "how long have you been together?" he asked, trying to figure out the timeline in his head. he had known about jeonghan's relationship with you for quite some time, though not the exact nature of it, or that you were so fantastic, for the mass majority.

"about a year. right before halloween, actually," you said, smiling as you leaned into him. "you were technically an anniversary gift."

his lip quirked upwards, watching you. "was it a good gift?"

"the best," you whispered, placing a slow kiss on his lips. your hand went to his sharp jaw, and you sighed against him as the kiss deepened, suddenly feeling needier than you had previously.

"does he know you're here?" seokmin asked quietly, mind flashing back to when him and jeonghan had gotten dinner together. "like this, i mean."

you nodded slowly, a hand on the bench to steady you as you leaned into him further. "he's in japan this week, told me i could see you as often as i want. just asked that i call him when i can, we spoke this afternoon."

"promise?"

you giggled. "you act like i would risk it. i like you too much, and you know he would make us both regret it if i was seeing you behind his back."

he examined your face, a smile on his lips, knowing it wasn't the part of the statement that he was meant to focus on but unable to think of anything else. "i like you, too."

so he kissed you, sitting on the piano bench in his loft apartment, and despite it being nowhere near the first time, something about it felt special. new. different.

later, though much sooner than later would imply, when the two of you were unable to stop yourselves from undressing each other, he had you seated firmly in his lap on the couch in his living room. the way he filled you out made you incapable of doing much outside of digging your hands in his hair as he rolled his hips up into yours, rambling about how perfect you were. how well you took him. how he had never seen anything as breathtaking as the way your brows stitched together and your mouth hung open as he fucked you. you huffed, twisting your hips slightly, triggering a groan from you both.

"so beautiful," he muttered, hands on your bare hips, rubbing circles into the soft flesh above the bone. "fuck, you're incredible."

"shit, seokmin," you exhaled, forehead falling on his. you knew he wasn't even using all his length, but he was thrusting deep enough into you to make you see stars. "god, i'm close."

you watched his tongue dart out to wet his lips as he focused on you, pulling himself off the couch and sitting up straight as his hips steadily rolled into yours. "come on, babygirl. you know i love the way you feel."

you cursed, arms winding around his neck as you pressed your chest against his, desperately kissing him as you felt yourself falling over the sweet edge. he groaned when you squeezed at him, arms wrapped around your waist, fingers gripping any amount of you he could as he worked you through your bliss. he only slowed to gently put your back to the couch, your legs wrapped around his waist as he curled over you, arms under your body to pull you into his chest, and a hand at the base of your neck to hold you steady as he firmly fucked you into the cushion.

"fuck, baby, you're so good to me," he groaned, forehead pressed just under your jawline, his mouth latching onto your neck as soon as he managed the words. you were gasping for air, arms over his shoulders, wondering if seokmin always made love this deeply and genuinely, or if you were just special.

afterwards, he discarded the condom that he insisted on using (you asked what the point of you getting something shoved into your cervix was if you couldn't enjoy his particularly bountiful creampies with no consequence, but he said he was not getting cum on the couch his clients sit on), pulled his underwear back on, and returned to you quickly, kissing up your body after pulling your panties back over your hips. you ran your fingers through his messy hair, causing him to look up at you. he said sorry, a laugh on his lips, asking if you wanted to get food delivered instead of going out.

"that sounds perfect," you giggled. "don't apologize."

"i'll take you out for real this weekend, i promise," he said, sitting up and stretching out his shoulder. you watched, quietly admiring how gentle and soft he seemed, with surprisingly firm muscles hiding under his usual large sweaters and shirts. "and i'll pick you up so we don't get tempted. but for now, kimchi soup and bibimbap?"

you nodded excitedly, sitting up to wrap your arms around him and planting a kiss on his shoulder. "sounds delicious."

he tried not to get excited by your touch, thinking about how you had said this was becoming a regular thing, and therefore he didn't need to get as much of you as he could before you slipped through his fingers like he had the first few times you met. he couldn't help himself, though, when his eyes met yours and you smiled gently at him, and had no choice but to put an agonizingly slow kiss on your lips before he stood to announce he was changing into something comfortable if you were just going to stay in. you giggled and grabbed your sweater from where it got discarded, pulling it over your head as you told him there was no chance in hell you were putting jeans on again before the morning, and he smiled at the implication that you would be staying the night with him.

"i have lessons tomorrow," he reminded you softly as he gathered up his clothes and walked to the stairs. "if you'd like, you can stick around, but it'll be boring."

you hummed. "i don't have class, but i should do schoolwork," you mused, watching him walk up the steps to what you could assume was his lofted bedroom. "it's been lonely at the house, though."

"if you wanna bring your things here, you can," seokmin suggested, his voice projecting easily through the space. he pulled on a pair of shorts and a more casual shirt than the one he had been wearing for his work day. "it would give you something to do while i teach youths how to play chopsticks. do you stay at jeonghan's when he's not around, too?"

you laughed, thinking about your all but abandoned apartment as you meandered towards the stairs. "lately, yeah. i used to spend more nights at home than in his bed, but he gets really busy planning stuff in the winter and has less time to take me out." you stretched your back. "i think he likes knowing i'll be there when he gets home late. makes the day easier." 

seokmin nodded as he came back down, running a hand through his hair, thinking that he, too, would find his days easier if it meant going to bed with you every night. "that's very kind of you."

"it's selfish, i promise." he laughed. "if you saw how tiny my place is, you would choose jeonghan's too. besides, i get cold in bed alone."

he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. "is that why you're here?"

you giggled. "no, i'm here because you invited me over. but that might be a factor in why i'm staying," you teased, hugging him tightly.

the next day, you were sprawled on his bed, writing an accompanying essay for your composition project as he taught lessons down below, only emerging to refill your water glass and use the restroom as infrequently as possible, trying to not disturb his lessons. parents often accompanied the children, usually reading a book and listening to their child practice. a college friend of his stopped by, as he tried to do at least once a month, accompanying his niece, and seokmin recalled that he was the one that had given jeonghan his number again over a year ago, feeling like he should thank him but not knowing how.

"seokmin," you called down softly when you heard him chatting casually with his friend. you padded down the steps with your empty water glass, spotting the young girl at the kitchen table with a marker and a sheet of paper, smiling when you remembered her slightly clumsy, but surprisingly advanced keystrokes, considering her age.

"what's up?" seokmin asked, pushing off of the counter he was leaning against, and he ignored the quick, questioning nudge mingyu pushed into his side.

"hi, sorry," you said, waving lightly when you noticed the tall man beside him. "i was wondering - if you have time - if you could listen to my composition piece and tell me if you think it leans more romantic or more post-great war?"

seokmin nodded. "absolutely. do you need me now, or can it wait ten minutes?"

"it can wait," you assured, eyes darting between the two men. you lifted the glass in your hand. "i needed a break."

he smiled, taking your glass and moving to pull open the fridge. "this is mingyu, by the way. mingyu, y/n. he's an architect, also."

"also?" mingyu asked, eyeing you. seokmin stared at you, realizing what he said.

your brows ruffled as you studied the tall man's face, not recognizing it. "we must not be in the same social group. i'm a friend of jeonghan's."

he gave you silent thanks for keeping the relationship ambiguous. mingyu, however, nearly yelled. "yoon jeonghan?" he laughed. "you know, i didn't even see that guy at his own halloween party. you still keep in touch, i assume, seokmin?"

he nodded, putting your filled water glass on the counter beside you, and you wondered how you never saw mingyu at the party, either. "yeah, we hang out fairly often."

"he introduced us," you interjected. mingyu smiled between you two. "thought we'd match well, i guess."

"well, you just asked a music teacher to review your composition, so," mingyu laughed. "he was right?"

seokmin studied you with a crooked smile on his lips. "have you ever known yoon jeonghan to be wrong?"

you stayed another, more innocent night, but when seokmin woke the next morning, his face was pressed against the side of you neck, and you were pushing your ass back against his morning wood.

"fuck, good morning," seokmin groaned, hands gripping at your hips where they had already been aimlessly floating.

"oh, thank god you're awake," you panted out. you spun in his grasp, pushing his shoulder back on the bed and climbing atop him. "you must have been having a fantastic dream, because you would not stop touching me."

he couldn't help the whine in his throat, mostly from embarrassment. "i'm so sorry."

"don't be," you rushed out, peeling off your shirt. "i just need you now."

considering this was his third time seeing it, he didn't think he would be so awestruck still, but the snapshot of you, topless, seated on his lap with your hands on his chest was a view that seokmin would likely never get over, because it felt like he was the dorky, awkward protagonist and you were the long-shot love interest that was way too cool and way too hot for him in this cliché coming of age comedy.

you kissed him, and he pushed your hips down to grind against his lap, pulling a gasp from your lips. he took the opportunity to bring a hand to your neck, pulling you into open mouth kisses. you moaned without shame as you rolled your hips.

"you know what jeonghan told me?" you asked, pulling back to tug his underwear just far enough down to release the member you couldn't stop thinking about. 

you straddled his lap, hands on your thighs. seokmin pushed his bare cock against your core, the wet fabric sticking lightly to his length. "what, baby?"

"he told me he wanted you to plug me up," you breathed, biting your lip when seokmin used a thumb to pull aside your underwear and drag your wetness across his dick. you moaned. "he wanted you to fuck me senseless and tell him all about it."

seokmin groaned, neck stretching out. "i can do that."

"no, baby," you said, bringing his free hand to your face and putting a kiss in his palm before you lifted yourself up, his thumb still hooked on your panties as you rubbed the head of his cock through your folds. "i wanna fuck you."

you sunk down onto him, jaw dropping. he smiled lightly, running his hands down your thighs. "i'll let you if you can."

your toes clenched, and you tried to maintain face. "i can."

seokmin folded his arms under his head, trying to avoid the temptation of fucking up into your warmth. he sighed, breathing out a "go on, then."

you put your hands on his chest and bounced on him several times, biting at your lip at how wide he stretched you out, but taking too much pride in the way his eyes hung half lidded and his breathy groaning to stop. 

your hands went to his neck, leaning forward, lifting his head slightly off the pillow to kiss him, his hands falling from behind his head to hold yours, stopping you from pulling away. 

he moaned into your open mouth, and you backed up for only a second to blearily meet his eyes as he panted. "baby."

you nodded, stealing a few more messy kisses. "yes?"

he groaned again, your hips twisting over his. "you're like a dream."

you could feel the heat radiating off your neck and cheeks, but you just pushed on his chest to sit upright, hands landing on his thighs. you moaned again, unapologetically, as you rotated your hips over his, and he bucked into you at the angle change. "if this is the dream, please don't wake up."

seokmin had a sneaking suspicion that he was in love with you, or at the very least falling towards it. the confirmation of this fact threw itself in his face, not when you proved that you could fuck him, sitting deeply on him to push his cum further in, or when you squealed and giggled as he threw your back onto the bed so that he could pull your underwear off proper and bury his tongue in your heat, but afterwards, when he wandered into the kitchen after using the restroom and found you wearing one of his shirts, waiting as his electric kettle bubbled to life, his favorite blue mug on the counter beside a white one - the white one, he realized, with the finger heart design that he had chosen for your coffee the day prior. and he told you so, rushing to explain himself and assure you that you didn’t have to say it back, but you just hushed him and smiled, saying that you loved him too.

seokmin had to go to the entertainment company that afternoon. you walked with him to the station near his apartment and he sat you in a cab, a kiss on your lips, before he hurried down to catch his ride to work. he breathed heavily when he could finally lean against a wall in the train, having to run to catch it before the doors closed.

seokmin❣️: almost didn't make the train 🙃

you: but you did!!! proud of you 👍

seokmin❣️: thanks 🥴💕

you were both smiling after that.

he took you out to eat that weekend, as promised, and you had honestly forgotten what it was like to date people that weren't jeonghan. you liked riding the subway with him (you couldn't even remember the last time you took it), and you thought it was cute that he let you stand against a wall to keep easy balance as he stood in front of you. you were slightly impressed that he barely rocked with the movement, only grabbing an overhead loop when the train was pulling into a station.

"wait, you're especially pretty right now," he said suddenly, leaning forward to inspect your eyes.

your head hit the wall gently in reaction, flushing at his comment, wanting to bury your face in your scarf. "thank you."

he gave you his signature crooked smile. "of course."

it was cold out, but seokmin wrapped his hand over yours, shoving the whole ordeal into his coat pocket as he walked you down the street towards the restaurant he had picked. you giggled, squeezing his hand in his pocket, but he just continued telling you about which of the trainees he was working with seemed like they would debut.

"jiyoon composes, too! i'm really impressed with her actually," he said, trailing off when he saw the sign for the restaurant. "ah, here it is."

you thanked him when he held the door open for you, and you were immediately struck with the smell of tomato, cheese, and bread.

"i haven't had pizza in ages," you said excitedly, following him to a table.

"don't tell me," seokmin said, helping you take off your jacket and hanging it on a hook at the end of the booth. "you guys don't order pizza?"

you shook your head, sliding into the booth comfortably. "not often. jeonghan likes asian food."

seokmin froze as he was pulling off his jacket to stare at you. "what about you?"

"i like eating."

he laughed. "well, i like pizza."

after dinner, you insisted he come back to the house with you. he said he didn't know, thinking that you would probably need your energy for when jeonghan got home the next day. you pouted, knitting your fingers with his as the two of you stood on the sidewalk outside the pizza place.

"but i really wanna show you my record collection," you said, batting your eyelashes at him.

that was all it took.

you discovered that there was a bus stop near jeonghan's home, and while you would likely never take a bus without seokmin, you thought it was a good nugget of information to tuck away as you marched through the front door of the estate you practically called home.

"welcome to yoon manor," you joked, spinning to smile at seokmin.

he looked around, and despite having been here before, it felt grander coming through the main entrance and without the distraction of party guests. he had seen it empty briefly, from a different angle, when you were pulling him up to your bed a few weeks prior, but he realized he hadn't actually been able to see much when you were the focus of his attention.

"the kitchen's that way, there's a bathroom," you said, pointing at the opening past the stairs as you pulled off your scarf. you folded it over your arm as you walked further into the home, seokmin following you closely. you walked past a partial wall, pointing further down the hall that held the secondary living space that he originally met you in. "there's a bathroom to the left there, and if you go to the end of the hall there's an open sunroom."

seokmin looked around the room you stood in, recognizing it in bits and pieces, but it looking much different without a crowd and flashing lights.

"and this is the living room," you said, spreading your arms as you spun to him. "tv, couch, bar, and most importantly," you giggled, tugging him towards the far wall of the room, which was covered in deep toned shelving, speakers, and a record player. "my record collection."

you took off your jacket as seokmin looked around in awe, noticing you had select autographed records displayed alone on picture ledges with spotlights pointed at them. one picture ledge was empty, centered just above the player. you tossed your coat into the couch, pulling seokmin's off his shoulders as well, despite his distraction.

"these are all yours?" he asked, turning to look at you after you had discarded the coats.

you nodded, spinning the felt of the record player mindlessly as you looked around. "i actually had started a collection years ago, but i couldn't make an excuse to spend the money on it very often. jeonghan gave me a pretty good excuse. also, whenever he pissed me off, he knew he could take me to a record shop and i would forgive him."

seokmin laughed. "does that happen a lot?"

"not as often as you'd think, considering what an ass he is," you teased. you gestured to the collection. "this is my baby, though. the house is his, but this wall is mine."

"well, play me a record," seokmin requested plainly, making you smile into a laugh.

"okay," you said, scooting past him to pull out one of the many cube drawers amidst the shelving. you flipped through a few. "dancing music?"

seokmin watched your hands, humming. "slow dancing, but, like, in a nostalgic discoteque."

you thought for a second, then closed the drawer to move to a different one, quickly flipping through and finding the record you wanted. you pulled the lp out, putting the bright blue sleeve with five smiling men on the empty picture ledge.

seokmin wrapped his arms around you as you set the record, striking the play button and enjoying the whirring as the lp spun, the needle connecting and the speakers scratching to life. you spun in his grip, laying your arms over his shoulders as he pulled you away from the record stand, into a more open space to playfully dance to the soulful bass lines and pop melodies of new edition.

"this house is insane, right?" seokmin asked, squinting at you as you laughed and nodded.

"it really is. the craziest part is he's still working on it."

"really?" seokmin looked around. "what else could he wanna change?"

you let your eyes wander. "i think it's a work in progress for him. the sunroom was brand new when we met, and he added this record display last winter, when i told him i always wanted to collect. the bar is new," you pointed. "he finished that in october. the kitchen was a summer project."

he blinked heavily, trying to register. "does he do all the work himself?"

"his team helps him," you explained. "he has a few contractors he works with and they manage the construction projects, but every once in a while i wake up on a sunday and he's cutting wood in the garage because he got an idea. he drafts all the changes, usually participates in the build, and picks most of the furniture, but he has people to collect the options for him."

"and he also does all that for other people, too?" you nodded, giggling. "and has time to take you to events almost every weekend?"

"i know. i didn't understand how he found the time until i realized that he just gets paid to do his hobby."

seokmin nodded. "me too, i guess."

you grinned. "me three. you should stay with us more," you suggested, rocking with him gently. "he'll be late tomorrow, but he's working from home this week…"

"hush," seokmin chuckled. "i have to work. besides, i'm sure he wants you alone after letting me claim you while he’s been gone."

"about that," you said, pulling away slightly to give him a cheeky smile. "i haven't gotten him to admit it yet, but i think jeonghan has a crush on you."

seokmin choked out a laugh. "what? me?"

"seokmin," you started, giving him a look. "he wanted you to join us for sex. more than once."

"okay," he scoffed lightly. "people have sex just for the sex sometimes," he pointed out, but in a tone that had no chance at convincing anyone.

"sure," you giggled. "but think about it. he kept me to himself all this time, and suddenly he's encouraging us to see each other without him? asking me about everything we do together..."

he swallowed. "everything?"

"everything," you breathed, eyes trained on his lips. "he knows i'll always go back to him, and i think he's hoping i'll bring you with me."

he blinked at you, processing. "is that what you're doing? bringing me back to him?"

"only if that's something you're interested in," you stated, cocking your head.

"him, you mean?"

you thought a second. "yes?"

you watched him blink repeatedly, seemingly considering the concept. he thought back to all the nights that became early mornings, laughing and joking with the architect since before he had even an ounce of notoriety. he thought of how jeonghan had reached out to him again a few long years later, and the way he had insisted on paying every time they got food. he wondered if there had been something happening that he hadn't noticed, his oblivious nature getting the best of him again. he thought about when things changed, when they met less often and jeonghan seemed quieter around him. and months later, when he started mentioning you.

"maybe," he said finally, mind whirling. "i don't know, i've never thought about it."

you nodded, putting your arms over his shoulders and swaying lightly to the music. "take your time," you said, smiling when his forehead pressed against yours. "we'll wait for you."

[louehvolution]

One of the things that bothers me most is how again and again it all comes down to Louis essentially having to prove himself worthy—by being ‘smart’ enough to ‘win’ [or ‘loud’ enough, or straight enough, or ‘supportive’ enough... But that’s another conversation]. ‘Trust him. It’s all his plan. Just sit back and watch. (If he’s good enough, he’ll ‘make it.’ If not...)’

It’s framed as praise, but what it’s doing is negating the reality of an unfair, impossible fight; it’s blaming the victim for suffering abuse, and diminishing the impact and repercussions of it. 

The continued insistence that X Factor was some sort of power move... Knowing that after an ordeal is done you will finally be allowed to continue with your life, doing what you want and love, after having your dreams dashed and delayed, is not being in a position of power, it doesn’t mean that he outsmarted anyone. Making the most of a bad situation doesn’t mean planning for it or even coming out on top. From the moment he had to do XF he already lost. They never played a single one of his solo songs, never even mentioned him outside of 1D. He had an album ready, and a tour planned for the second half of 2018, and XF set him back in his career years. Likewise, finally being able to leave Syco after what appears to have been a ten year contract - and we don’t even know if he is still with Sony - doesn’t mean playing and winning at a long game, it means surviving, which is absolutely commendable on its own. To pretend that this is all part of his master plan... it’s astoundingly cruel, actually, downplaying, erasing what has been done to him, the mistreatment he has suffered, the price he has been made to pay, both professionally and personally, simply to exist. He has ‘won’ in as much as they expected him to disappear and he’s kept going, persisted against every obstacle and every effort to bring him down. And that’s enough, more than enough. You don’t have to ‘win’ against a system of impossible power differentials to be worthy of respect and admiration. You can be talented and intelligent and resourceful and still lose, still be a victim of abuse, professional and personal - and it doesn’t make you any less deserving.

To take everything he has had to endure and everything they have taken from him - time and opportunities and peace of mind and happiness - and the long term consequences of it all, and sweep it aside... and under the guise of admiration for his cleverness, so that any insinuation that he has not, in fact, planned for all this, that he is not in a position of power, means thinking him stupid or flawed... The manipulation and straight up denial of reality, and some people’s willingness to go with it, against all logic and evidence, is mind blowing.

Being honest about not wanting the band to break up is not the same as Louis being made out to be the one who wants the band back more than anyone else - even in the press and promo for the release of his debut album, in 2020. What that does is reduce him to the past, belittle and erase him as an artist in his own right, make it seem as though he is relevant only as part of an extinct band. To pretend that this is meant to protect him, somehow...

"I didn’t start last year [2016] thinking I definitely wanted to pursue something on my own. I wasn’t really sure. I knew I was going to stay writing, because I love writing music, and I was going to see what came from the sessions.”

Louis has talked about how it was difficult for him when the band broke up, precisely because he was feeling the most confident in that last year - finally he felt he was finding his place again, not just as a songwriter, but as a singer, in the band, whose musical direction and development he had led - as an artist, for the record, not just as a manager, even if he was left to lead the fight for all of them with label and management.

As an artist, whose creative outlet is songwriting, who finds comfort and fulfilment in making music, because he’s a musician, who is always writing, he didn’t stop writing through the hell that he was put through in 2016. So he wrote a song about holding on when everything goes wrong, about enduring hardship, and finally released it at the end of the year (though it wasn’t planned to be so quickly). Throughout his solo career he has had no label backing whatsoever, a team constantly working against him. And now people want to believe he’s the one who wanted the hiatus, who broke up the band, for a solo career move?

Louis. Not Harry... who every ex-member of the band has said was the one who pushed for the hiatus. Harry, who made a point about how when you’re in a band you never feel like people are there to see you, but the band; whose words suggest he resented not being able to sing on his own; who set himself apart since at least 2013, had his Gucci partnership in place in 2015, got an eagle tattoo symbolising freedom right after the band ended, signed papers with his management publicly on a yacht in January, started recording his first album and preparing the Another Man spread in February, then filmed Dunkirk... Harry who has had every advantage, all the label support and a powerful management doing work for him to get him where he is now. Right.

Also, the core of Harry’s press has literally been about elevating himself over his ex-band mates, whose names he hasn’t said in years except as a joke on SNL, not even on the anniversary did he spare a like for any of their posts or tweets.. and people still want to pretend any of this was ever about returning as a credible band...

[fictionadventurer]

Have you seen the new little women movie? If so what do you think of it?

My initial thoughts on the movie are here. I just rewatched it for the sake of answering this ask. My thoughts can be summarized as follows:

This is a beautiful movie. So much loving focus on the things and the textures. The clothes are extremely Pinterest-and-Hallmark-movie aesthetic rather than anything remotely resembling history, but it’s hard to mind when every character is wearing three different textures and patterns at all times and giving the eye so much to look at. (Also, I was knitting during rewatch, so the knitwear was especially satisfying).

But I’m still not sure it succeeds as a story. Much like the outfits, there are so many different bits and pieces layered together, with different textures and colors that make it interesting to look at, but I’m not sure they come together into a coherent whole. Individual scenes could be good, but it was hard to connect emotionally to any of the characters when the backstory was chopped up into so many pieces.

I found it easier to differentiate between the past and the present this time--I finally figured out that the golden light is for childhood and the blue light is for adulthood. Noticing that also made me like the ending more, which I’ll get to later.

I liked the dancing scenes a bit less. They were a little less joyful and emotionally uplifting than I remembered. I did find it interesting how Jo and Laurie’s dance at their first meeting turns into a sort of silent film for part of it, until Meg intrudes and brings them back into the real world by telling them about her hurt ankle.

I liked the Meg and John story less. Emma Watson just doesn’t seem very motherly or wifely. However, the ending scene of the silk subplot was very touching and one of the few scenes in the movie that showed the self-giving side of marriage.

I still wish there had been more focus on the virtue development part of the plot--the “Meg falls to vanity” scene falls kind of flat because Laurie is just scolding her for...wearing a fancy dress? In a way that makes it seem like he’s just scolding her for being feminine and liking pretty things. We don’t have the context to make it clear that she’s bending her morals for the sake of being liked. The scene does set up a contrast between Laurie-the-moral-guardian and Laurie-living-a-life-of-vain-pleasure in the very next scene, but it’s not enough to make the Vanity Fair scene work on its own.

And why didn’t the movie have more of Mr. March? Let us see the marriage that has shaped the girls’ ideas of what marriage is supposed to be.

I found it interesting that the devoted spinster Aunt March who believes in marriage as a purely economic concern rejected offers to enter Meg’s wedding dance twice. She keeps herself but missed out on the joy.

I found Amy and Laurie slightly more believable as a couple. Though when Amy has the struggle of “marry for financial gain or marry for love”, it’s rather too convenient that the resolution is that she decides she’s really in love with a different rich guy than the one she was going to marry solely for his money.

Beth was a lesser character than I remembered (both in terms of screen time and emotional impact). However, I did like her role in the story far more because she’s kind of key to some of the themes (which I’ll get to in a moment).

I still hate Jo changing her mind about Laurie. It makes her choice of Bhaer seem like she’s settling for second-best.

Now’s the point where I’m going to talk about the themes and the ending. Which was the primary reason I wanted a rewatch--to clarify my ideas about this movie’s message and resolution.

SPOILERS AHEAD. FAIR WARNING TO ANYONE WHO HAS NOT ALREADY BEEN FRIGHTENED AWAY BY THIS WALL OF TEXT.

This movie is about three things: Marriage, Art and Money. Money is necessary to survive. Marriage and art can both be a source of money, but they are also pursuits that should be entered into out of love.

This movie harps and harps upon the fact that marriage is an economic proposition. It’s the most stable way for a woman to get money. She also gets love, ideally. But where the movie falters is focusing so much on the getting part of marriage and rarely on the giving. Laurie wanted to marry Jo because he wanted to get her love. Jo’s “I’m so lonely” scene specifically has her say that she wants to be loved, but not to love--she wants to receive rather than give. I’m not sure there’s any indication that either Jo or Laurie ever give or give up anything when they finally do enter into matrimony. It seems that they just get who they decide they want. Amy gets a rich husband and gets a man who loves her, but what does she ever give up for him, aside from another man who she also did nothing to love?

The silk scene with Meg and John is one of the few times where we see a married couple giving to each other, rather than focusing on what they get out of it.

Art, too, is a love that can be turned toward money, and most of the characters have this out of balance as well. Jo loves writing, but she wants to be seen as good, and she mostly cares about the money that she gets out of it. Amy gives up art completely when she realizes she’s not a genius. “I’d rather be great or nothing” is the exact opposite of doing art for the love of it--what she cared about was getting praise rather than giving something of herself to the world.

Beth is the only one who understands the giving nature of both love and art. She performs for no one’s praise or payment--she plays because she loves music. She’s the one who gives up her time to bring the donations to the Hummels when her sisters are caught up in their own pursuits. When she gets the piano, her sisters are the ones who are caught up in admiring it as a thing, but she runs off (without any of her sisters even noticing, too caught up in the wealth in front of them) to thank Mr. Lawrence because she recognized the love behind the gift.

Jo starts to understand the importance of love within art after Beth dies. We have the lovely scene of Beth encouraging Jo to do her writing for someone--give of her art. When Jo returns to her writing, the camera beautifully focuses on the For Beth at the head of the manuscript--Jo is not writing this for money or praise, but out of love for her sister.

I like the ending much better than I did before. I can see the golden sunlit ending as the “real” end of the story, because I noticed the lighting trick. When Bhaer is leaving the March house, Jo is standing in the blue light, but Bhaer is in the golden light. It’s as if Jo sees that a life with him could provide the same level of happiness that she knew in childhood.

It’s still odd that her family has to convince her every step of the way that she’s “in love”. But because of the lighting trick, I can more easily believe that she really did want to spend her life with him.

That dumb scene with the publisher is what ruins everything. We had Jo writing her book out of love. We had Jo deciding to give Bhaer a reason to stay. But it’s derailed by this weird focus on money. Jo keeps insisting that she’s “selling” her heroine into marriage, and that she’s willing to sacrifice her artistic vision just because this ending is what sells. I feel like if they’d cut out all that stuff about the contract negotiation--which seems only to have been put in because Gerwig wanted to show off this bit of trivia about Alcott’s business acumen--the ending would have been a million times more coherent on a plot and thematic level.

I can believe that the sunlit ending at Plumfield is Jo reaching happiness by giving of herself to others. Everyone is using art to give to others--Bhaer is teaching music, Laurie’s teaching some kind of drama class, Amy’s teaching painting.

The shot of the gold leaf being stamped onto the cover of Little Women, which had seemed like the final stroke saying “this ending is fiction” now seems to be saying that “this is the way the story really ends.” It’s helped by the fact that after Jo gets the book in her hands, we cut to the image of a group of little girls playing pretend--it’s Jo being satisfied in her book not because it’s her achievement or a source of money, but because she knows it will inspire another generation of little girls. Thus we can have Jo achieving artistic and personal fulfillment by publishing the book and teaching at Plumfield.

If it wasn’t for that contract negotiation scene, there wouldn’t even be a question of what the real ending was supposed to be. There’s only one version that shows Jo prioritizing the giving part of art and marriage over any selfish gain, and I hate that the ending muddles it so badly for the sake of misplaced meta-feminism.

[blue-eyes-tattoos]

Fic Recs - first half of 2020 I

Given the past months’ circumstances I’ve had lots of time to read so here are my first half of 2020 fic recs. It’s a good mix of old and new I’d say.

Starting with novel length fics (> 50k):

The Recklessness In Water by LarryOn | @larryonsimon

(E, 51k, lifeguard!Harry, unemployed!Louis)

Louis Tomlinson is miserable. He's stuck on a family vacation at a lake cabin in New Hampshire when all he wants to do is bemoan his sorry existence and wallow in his sweatpants. As if the humidity and mosquitos weren't bad enough, he becomes the singular target of an obnoxious lifeguard named Harry.

Live A Thousand Lifetimes by Layne Faire | @laynefaire

(E, 58k, Ziam, Future fic, Canon compliant, exes to lovers, angst with a happy ending)

It’s 2025. After secretly writing and producing their first album in ten years, One Direction is weeks away from releasing their first new single and announcing a world tour. With the whirlwind about to begin again, Liam re-evaluates the last ten years - the fame, the money, the people who changed his life forever - and the person who walked away.

Untamed Hearts by Layne Faire | @laynefaire

(E, 69k, Ziam, enemies to friends to lovers, pining, angst, surfer!Liam, artist!Zayn, they’re all students though, side larry)

It could have been the heat of the summer sun; it might have been the silvered sheen of an early harvest moon. If he dug deep enough, Liam could find every reason ever needed to explain away what happened. In the end, though, it all came down to two meddling friends, a touch of Prince, a bit of Keats, and the moon over the ocean. Its a recipe for disaster. Or love. Probably love.

Turning Page by purpledaisy | @daisyharry

(M, 68k, famous/non-famous, famous!Harry, non-famous!Louis (kind of), football player!Louis)

AU: Harry Styles tries to get lost in a place he’s never been.  Louis Tomlinson has been perfecting the art of being lost for years. What they don’t expect to find is each other.

To The Ends Of The Earth by stylinsoncity

(M, 68k, Canon compliant, love/hate, angst)

During a yearlong hiatus, Louis visits Harry at his cabin in Idaho, where long-buried feelings ignite like the fire keeping them warm.

Fall Into Your Gravity by zarah5 | @zarah5

(E, 74k, famous/non-famous, mistaken identity, based on the German movie ‘Single By Contract’)

AU. In which Harry is an overnight pop sensation and Louis steals plants, Zayn pulls Liam's proverbial pigtails and Niall's really just pleased there are more girls for him.

Nothing But You On My Mind by nonsensedarling | @absoloutenonsense

(E, 84k, Prince Harry Styles, PR manager!Louis, enemies to lovers, Royalty AU, there’s a great plot twist btw)

Louis Tomlinson is a PR manager hired to improve the image of royal bad-boy Prince Harry Styles. Unfortunately for him, that means being faced with the Prince's constant innuendos, incessant dirty jokes, and relentless flirting. Louis just wants to make it to Princess Gemma's coronation; once she's crowned Queen, his contract is up and he never has to see the Prince again.

The Murmur Of Yearning by MediaWhore | @mediawhorefics

(M, 93k, Historical AU, slow burn)

Four years ago, Harry Styles was forced into a marriage of convenience to enrich and ally both his and his promised's families. The sudden, and slightly suspicious, death of the Marquess of Haxshire, however, brings great disturbance to Crescentfield Hall and, as his late's husband's closest male relative, Harry unexpectedly finds himself the head of a family he never felt he belonged to. Between a meddling distant cousin hellbent on inserting himself in Harry’s life, his wicked and mistrustful mother-in-law and his late husband’s advisors refusing to help or take him seriously, Harry struggles in the fight to keep what he’s earned and make the Estate finally feel like home. Luckily, he doesn’t stand completely alone and finds himself an unlikely ally in Mr Tomlinson, the elusive Land Stewart who has been taking care of the property in the shadows for years. Louis Tomlinson is caring, patient, and unlike everyone else, he doesn’t seem to think Harry committed a murder.

Paint Me In A Million Dreams by green_feelings | @greenfeelings

(M, 113k, fake relationship, hate to love, Hollywood AU)

Harry's one of Hollywood's biggest actors, has made a name for himself in prestigious films and lives the life of a superstar. There's just one thing missing to make it picture-perfect, but the one Harry's in love with is completely out of reach for him. Enter Louis, one of Hollywood's biggest actors himself, who just came out of the closet and taps new genres in the industry. When Louis sacks the role Harry auditioned for in Scorsese's next big film, their irrational feud starts. Who could have guessed it would get even worse when for promo season, their teams decide to present them as a couple for publicity? In short, Harry's in love with someone and doesn't care about dating anyone else, Louis never felt home in L.A., Liam writes love songs for someone he shouldn't write love songs to, and Niall makes everything better with good food.

Bitter Tangerine by purpledaisy | @daisyharry

(M, 120k, lovers to exes to enemies to friends to lovers, slow burn)

AU: Nine months after they break up, a twist of fate brings Harry and Louis back together at Christmas.

Empty Skies by green_feelings | @greenfeelings

(E, 134k, band AU, angst, hate, pining, and also kinda famous/non-famous, i’d add another tag but that would be a spoiler so)

For three years, Harry has been running from his past. Now, he is moving to London and pledges to fulfil his only dream -- making it big in the music industry. Not everyone has a place, though, and the competition is tough. As is his past catching up on him. Louis is part of the biggest boy band of the world, and getting there had meant a lot of hard work, as well as sacrificing parts of his heart and soul. He's still happy. Maybe not as happy as he could be, but who is he to complain? Featuring Perrie as Harry's adorable flatmate, Niall as his manager, and Liam and Zayn as Louis' bandmates.

As You Are by zarah5 | @zarah5

(E, 139k, famous/non-famous, X Factor judge!Louis, contestant!Harry, angst with a happy ending)

AU. Five years after The X Factor launched his career as a radio host and songwriter, Louis Tomlinson returns as a judge. Falling for a contestant is the last thing he needs. It's also against his contract. The only reason Harry auditions for The X Factor is because his best mate signed the two of them up as some kind of joke. Harry doesn't get the big deal—not until he's faced with this season's judges and realises that one of them used to be his desperate, impossible teenage crush.

Pull Me Under by zarah5 | @zarah5

(E, 140k, fake relationship, football AU)

AU. As the first British footballer to come out at the prime of his career, it helps that Louis Tomlinson is in a long-term, committed relationship. Even if that relationship is fake. (Featuring Niall as Louis' favourite teammate, Liam as Louis' agent, and Zayn as Liam's boyfriend, who just happens to be good friends with one Harry Styles.)

BONUS (read it last year but it has to be in here)

Tired Tired Sea by MediaWhore | @mediawhorefics

(M, 113k, famous/non-famous, slow burn, hurt/comfort, pining)

As a B&B owner on the most remote of all the British Isles, Louis Tomlinson is used to spending the coldest half of the year in complete isolation, with his dog and the sea as sole companions. Until, one day, a mysterious stranger on a quest to rebuild himself rents a room for the winter.

[beetlefursuits]

Why Your First Fursuit Commission Was a Disaster! (or How to Prevent it)

Being approached by a stranger asking you to be THE fursuit artist they have chosen can make you feel AMAZING and eager to say YES!

Out of all the artists out there, they picked you!

The immediate assumption is that you can knock that project out and get some money in your pocket, while filling out your portfolio, gaining some experience, and having some fun!

But pause a moment, step back and think “Am I ready for this? Is this the right client for me? Do I even WANT to do commissions?”

Before you jump into business with someone, consider the following list of reasons that this project (or this client) might not be the correct fit for you.

Six Tips For Success in Choosing Which Fursuit Commissions to Accept (and which to avoid!)

#1. Will I ENJOY Doing This Project? 

Is this REALLY something you want to make? 

When a new project crosses your eyeballs and you get that excited glow, you can immediately imagine how great it will be to show off the finished product in your portfolio.

But stop and REALLY think about the project you are considering, break it down into every aspect, every small detail that you will have to source and buy materials for, that you will have to construct and sew and cut and sculpt and paint, and then decide how jazzed you really feel about building it.

300 rosettes (you realize only after counting each one) will look amazing but consider sewing each one and how does that make you feel. Sew a test spot just so you can time yourself and feel it out.

Those cool markings? How will you do that? By machine? By hand? Do you have the fur for it in stock? Does it even exist and do you know where to find it?

How will you do the long hair to get that particular shape? Does it have Spikes? Horns? Both? What will they be made from? Have you done it before? Does that prospect of making something new excite you? Or do you feel dread?

If you are not starting it immediately, consider how interested you will still be in a few weeks or months once that initial glow has faded, the deposit has been spent, and what’s left is a pile of materials and the prospect of a lot of hard work.

If there is an aspect of the project that you do not like, consider that future clients will see this work and assume it’s the type of project you wish to do again.

#2. Am I CAPABLE of Completing this Project?

Building a commission is NOT like building a personal fursuit.

With a personal project, you do not need to discuss your ideas with others, you do not need to stick to a reference or plan, you can cut corners with sewing or final finishing, etc.

A commission requires a lot of back-and-forth discussion between the artist and the client. You have to consider the opinion of someone else. You need to accurately size it to a person you have never met and who cannot try it on during the process. Everything has to be finished and durable and clean.

Following are 4 quick tips to consider if you’re ready to accept client work:

Do you know how long it takes (roughly) to build a (non personal) fursuit?

Have you already made and sold artistic liberty/artist-designed/premade projects? When you are starting out, this is how you decide on your pricing and deadlines. It’s not good to enter into an agreement with no idea what to charge or how long it will take you!

Do you have a dedicated work space/guaranteed amount of time available?

Fursuit making takes a lot of space (Huge awkward foam rolls to store and fur to spread out while you pattern/cut. Duct tape dummies awkwardly starfish out their arms and legs all the time and don’t help at all with the sewing) and it’s much easier to work on commissions when you separate life and work areas.

If you currently have other major obligations besides fursuit making (such as work, family, health, and school) which already take (or have the potential of taking) most (or all) of your available time, then it might not be the right time to take full suit commissions. Artist-designed projects and smaller projects will offer more flexibility for unpredictable and limited time—and energy.

Are there a lot of new elements to the project that you have not done before?

Some things may look easy and then when you start building it you realize that it’s much more involved than you expected. This can be a huge drain on your time, your money, and your motivation (which just compounds those first two issues).

An example could be a character with 3 tails. It’s just 1 tail(X3) right? But will they all fit correctly together? Do you make and attach them as one tail or leave them separate? Will they bounce or sit weirdly? Do you now need to make a new ‘side tail’ pattern so they splay out in an appealing manner?

Or say you take on a particularly tall client and you suddenly have to research and develop all new larger hand and foot designs as your current ones do not fit them or the padding you normally make looks too small now and needs to be remade larger.

These are all aspects worth considering. To prevent taking on more than you can handle, my suggestion is to take on no more than one new aspect (that is preferably no more than 10-15% of the project) on each commission that you’ll need to research and develop. You will probably go over time and over budget on these new processes at first (as you gain experience you naturally find ways to craft things quicker and easier) so it’s best to not knowingly take projects that you do not yet have the skills and/or experience to fulfill.

Can you take criticism?

Paid artistic work invites criticism. Sometimes something you make does not work out. You loved it and the client hates it. Or it doesn’t fit. Or it fell apart. That is all part of learning and growing and trying new things. Can you take the corrections, make it right, and move on?

If you feel that you currently cannot emotionally/mentally/physically handle potential setbacks/obstructions/times where things just don’t go your way; stick with non-client projects that are easier to control and fit to your schedule (premade suits. ears and tails. fursuit props.) and revisit commissions further down the road.

#3. Is the Client Displaying Red Flags?

Knowing which clients to turn away is a valuable skill.

As your business grows, it pays in your time, resources, and sanity to know when to refuse a commission (or when to cancel a commission) and to do so as early and gracefully as possible.

If you watch for situations like these, you can focus on cultivating happy, excited, and RESPECTFUL clients who love your work and your preferred artistic style. Not those who try to cut corners or denigrate or manipulate you for their own goals.

Here are 6 ‘red flags’ to consider when picking or accepting client projects.

The client complains (a lot) about their previous artist(s)

Simple, constructive, and legit complaints are one thing (the client says “Artists tend to get this marking wrong so here is how I really want it.” or “My last artist used these materials but it broke so can we try something else.”)

If instead the client immediately gossips about/trash-talks previous artists to you, it shows a lack of social boundaries and the high potential that they will then trash-talk about you/your work in the future.

Poor Quality Reference art.

This one is not a deal-breaker as long as it is not paired with an uncommunicative and/or demanding client.

If the client wants a “sly grey wolf” then we may proceed as long as we both understand that it will be my personal version of that idea and might not match what’s in the clients head.

If the very specifically-desired concept involves complex unclear markings, specific tattoos that are not consistent across the reference, the client’s desired fursuit and the reference do not match, a blurred photograph of a scratchy OC reference, etc; IE ANYTHING you cannot make heads nor tails of.. then ask them to clear this up with a favorite reference artist first and get back to you.

(And If YOU are your favorite reference artist, make sure to charge appropriately for the extra service!)

The client is a child or cannot/will not prove their age.

Children cannot be held to a contract in the USA and most fursuit artists require their clients to be over 18 (many are starting to ask for proof such as a photograph of a legal ID). You may choose to proceed with the project but the contract, payment, and all discussion needs to go through the child’s legal adult caretaker.

A client who micro-manages you and/or your work through constant criticism, proposed changes, or ‘redlines’ of your work.

These clients (though generally well-meaning) are honestly hell on the self-esteem. The occasional suggestion or constructive criticism (as mentioned earlier!) can be very helpful in determining the angle to take on a project or future projects.

But CONSTANT red lines and complaints and ‘suggested changes’ to your work (that they keep suggesting because they don’t even KNOW what they really want from you) means that NEITHER of you is going to come out of it feeling very happy about the art. Cancel and refund them and move on. I promise that it’s worth it.

The client disagrees with the quoted price/requests a discount/attempts to change the commission parameters.

“No” is a complete sentence.

To elaborate on that further; not everyone who asks for a discount is like this but be warned that there ARE potential clients who look for bright new fursuit makers, with the intent to jump on them early and obtain a new commission at a low price by (knowingly or unknowingly) taking advantage of the artist’s inexperience.

I am going to give a fictional example of this situation to show how insidious it can be:

You are still unsure about fullsuit commissions but you say on social media that you’re thinking you could try a head? An acquaintance says yes! Me! PLeeeeese. They seem excited so you agree for an introductory price. This new client chats a lot and seems friendly.

Could they get feet?? Feeling on-the-spot you agree since they’re ‘friends’. You’ve not made feet on commission yet so you underestimate the difficulty and under-charge. The client seems happy tho. They discuss a few changes they want to the head (that they’re sure they mentioned in the initial quote). Maybe you forgot??

This all takes some time and meanwhile they show you some reference art they just got done of a different character and ask to move the commission to this since you don’t have THAT much done yet. Also how much for hands?? They find you at a con and offer to buy you a drink. You restart the work.

A few more rounds of these (or similar) behaviours. The client starts to complain how long it’s taking. Maybe they drive other potential clients away with their actions or threaten an artist beware on you. And eventually you realize you’ve been manipulated and bullied into taking on a complicated fursuit that you had no intentions of making and have very severely undercharged for. Not fun!!

Instead of this situation coming to pass, hold your ground in the beginning and refuse to ‘add’ to a commission or to change a commission after it’s been paid for and/or started. This muddles what you’re working on and allows the client an opportunity to keep changing things forever. (instead treat the add-on as a brand new commission to be started only after the current part is finished and paid for)

Do not entertain those who think you’re not worth the price you’re asking for. Do not give ‘friends discounts’. Friends want to see you succeed!

Other artists warn against working with them.

Get to know other fursuit artists! We are usually happy to vouch for good clients and warn about any particular issues you may experience with others. Sometimes there are issues that prevent one artist-client relationship but can be managed within another and eventually other artists might recognize which clients to refer to you (and you to them).

If you are wondering how to start this type of discourse, there are public groups on Facebook or considering joining a fursuit artist’s Patreon and/or Telegram chat! Many fursuit makers have one (or both) of these with various mentoring tiers.

As an example, all of my patrons are given a link to join my Telegram chat where you can share your work and receive critique from a like-minded audience. At higher tiers you can join my Discord to share and chat in real time.

If there is a fursuit artist that you admire, ask them and see what they offer!

#4. Do I Need The Money?

Fursuits are maybe NOT quite the jackpot they might first appear to be

Fursuits are deceptive. It sounds like a great deal to gain several thousand dollars in one simple cheque, but, if you are not careful with budgeting, if you undercharge, or under-estimate how long it will take; you can find yourself falling into a state of using future projects to pay your current project materials, shipping, taxes, etc; as well as your regular life expenses like rent, car, insurance, utilities, loan repayments, etc.

The simplest practice is to prevent this entirely right from your first commission! My suggestion is to first take on smaller projects with a quick turn-over. This keeps you flexible to increase your prices or change your practices as needed. Then when you have enough savings to keep yourself afloat (so that you will not need to dip into your fursuit deposit money even if things don’t go exactly on schedule), you can take larger projects with longer turn-around times and higher price-points.

If you do find yourself in a situation where you NEED the money immediately; the issue is that you will be much more motivated to take on more difficult clients, less fulfilling projects you don’t really like, and overall accepting a worse deal for you for the reward of immediate payment (which then exacerbates the issues by giving you more work for the future and then pushing you further into the hole). Sadly, getting out of this situation can be very difficult.

Sparkle Kreations writes:

In my earlier business years, I found myself in a deep hole; I struggled financially day to day, I had over 80 clients on my list, and I was overwhelmed by the amount of work to be done. There were solutions, all very challenging decisions laid out before me. One path was the one most recommended, was that I go out and get a full-time job as I slowly refunded everyone on my list (a viable decision, advised to me by furry and non-furry alike) while I continue living and paying my living expenses. Another path was that I completely close off all large commissions, only taking on a few quick/small commissions to keep a bit of income flow, closely budgeting every dollar that I spend as I worked on my queue and knocked out my commissions until they were all complete. So I chose a hard path to regain my business name; I started by being completely honest with all of my customers and offering refunds if they chose. I then worked 6-7 days a week/8-10 hours a day, for about 5 to 6 years. I watched my budget closely, avoided going to conventions so I could instead refund customers. I now run a successful business that is financially stable, with a comfortably-sized queue, where myself and my assistant comfortably work a 5 day/35 hour work-week.

Finally, keep in mind that what really matters is not the $$$$ on the cheque but actually how it distills into $/hour. An artist is limited by the hours they are able to put into the work and a sexy $$$$ fursuit deposit might not actually gain you more in the end than several smaller $$$ projects with quicker overall turn-around times. Track your time and choose the most profitable options to promote and pursue.

(For much more on the physical realities of running a business, read my previous blog article “What I’ve Learned From The Past Decade Working as a Professional Fursuit Artist”)

#5. Can I communicate effectively with others?

Good communications are key with all client-artist interactions.

Can you stay calm, be professional, and set expectations? Poor communication (on either artist or client end) can easily snowball into angry clients and artists, stress and anxiety, emotional withdrawal from your work, misunderstandings, and even artist bewares.

There are several important aspects to communicating effectively:

Can you stay calm and professional even when the client is combative?

At some point, you will have a difficult client. When this happens, you need to stay professional and work through the issues with them. If you cannot agree then you might need to part ways. You must do so with the grace and assurance that you did everything possible to fix the situation. If you think “Taken out of context, will this screenshot look bad?” And the answer is “yes,” then you need to step back, collect yourself, and rewrite your reply.

Can you set expectations?

As the artist, you can choose your commission methods, but you need to be VERY CLEAR to the client what those methods are, what your expectations are (for them and for you), and how the commission process will proceed. Before you take any clients, figure out what you what you want out of the commission process. Do you want to take on clients for money? For the satisfaction of a job well done? For the social challenge of managing an artist-client relationship? Or the artistic drive of working to a specific goal and schedule? Aka WHY do you want to take commissions??

If you have not developed your own drive and are not familiar with your own commission process then you are not ready to move a client through that process

Are you ready to directly and clearly (and repeatedly if needed) communicate your policies to a client through the design, payment, construction, delivery, potential changes or repairs of the commission?

If you need payment by X date or they’ll be dropped from the queue, you need to inform them of this. If they have an issue with the work you did (and you need them to ship the item back asap so you can fix it before their warranty runs out), you need to inform them of this urgency and what failing to act by the deadline will result in.

Don’t leave it up to the client to know your policies. Your policies/procedures should be on your website Terms Of Service (TOS) that you had the client read and agree to, but a little refresher (plus a reasonable and clear deadline, if applicable) allows everyone to move on informed and aware of the consequences.

Do you have a method to communicate with your clients and be available for them to discuss issues with you?

I’m not saying be available 24-7 (an important self-care aspect is having certain hours of the day and/or the week to yourself without any work concerns) but if the client has an issue, how will they communicate that with you so that you can respond in an effective and timely manner? Do you prefer Telegram? Email? Twitter? Decide how you want to conduct business matters and let clients know where/when to contact you.

Do you have a method to update your clients and ask their opinions?

Depending on how you like to work, you do not need to ask a client’s opinion on every aspect of the build. However, showing your work and giving updates on the progress will make the client feel happy and secure in their commission choice.

One easy method for updating that I like is to keep a Trello board of projects where the client can always see the current progress of their commission. Telegram is a popular group chat client. It’s nice for sending pics/videos to clients and the ever classic email is perfect for initial quotes and longer back and forth discussions.

Can you always be honest with your clients?

It’s hard to run an entire business by yourself and you might promise too much or underestimate how long something will take or you life circumstances change and you now have less time to work. When these things happen, you need to be honest and transparent to your client. Explain the issues you are having (in simple, appropriate terms), apologize, and try to work with the client on a solution.

If you are going through some things that might affect work or deadlines, let them know. Keep in mind though, this doesn’t mean you have to share ALL of your struggles if what you are going through will not affect them. Just share what you feel they need or deserve to know.

#6. Do I have other artistic or personal goals right now?

Are commissions even right for you? 

If you have other things that are important in your life right now, it’s perfectly acceptable to focus your time on them instead of commissions.

Depending on your stage of life, you might still be in school. Or have a family. You might have another job or a hobby you enjoy. You also might just have other artistic goals that existing commissions do not fit into right now. People love your canines but you want to try cats instead. Or cosplay.

Or you don’t know what you want to do yet but agreeing to a many-month long contract is not that.

The desire for quality fursuit work from reputable artists is high;

if you are active in your community, your peers might try to convince you into taking their project.

It’s great that they love your work! But if the project is not in the direction you wish to go, does not offer enough money in compensation for sacrificing something else you want to do instead, or you do not feel like you can dedicate the time needed, it’s okay (and probably necessary!) to say no!

The ultimate goal in taking client commissions is to have them bring you MORE satisfaction and fulfillment than they take away; Be that in monetary, social or artistic terms.

Figure out your personal drive in being a fursuit artist. Create and run a thoughtful, intentional, and passionate business; whether you decide to take on 30 clients, 1 client, or zero clients.

Above all, have fun with it! Bring those characters to life without losing your own.

[polyhexian]

zero_one is such a fucking powerful album. i almost wish it had released when i was still a youtuber cuz i would have legitimately put out an hour long video talking about it cuz i just have so many thoughts about it, its had such a profound impact on me. its just so visceral, so unbelievably, irrevocably vulnerable, so uncomfortably honest. it hits in a way nothing else ive ever heard has. theres a lot of music that manage to weave feeling into sound but this specific feeling, these specific thoughts- ive never heard them depicted like this. its so aggressive, so violent and grieving and unapologetic and open. the unrepentant misery of fame and success without safety or stability, the grief of unrealized creativity, of being an artist trapped by the reality of being a content creator.

the love i need is this aggressively poppy song ostensibly disguised as some kind of love or lost love song, at a casual listen perhaps about a person, but- no, thats not it at all. the love i need is so clearly about the misery of performance, of creating and feeling hollow. “I don’t get the love i need anymore,” i create works of art that take my heart and soul and the response does not fulfill me, its “its been a long time since no mercy” from Lazy. “and they told me dance” like a performing monkey. keep dancing, keep playing the game, continue, it doesn’t matter how tired you are or if you no longer enjoy the game, keep playing. they told me dance, whether you want to or not, no matter how tired you are, keep dancing. keep entertaining. keep creating or you cease to be relevant. you will lose everything. 

meanwhile Lazy is overt and angry, miserable and grieving, self loathing, the artist berating himself for being lazy and being unable to keep being a wunderkind with every release, unable to capture lightning in a bottle again and again and again, depressed and trapped in bad, trapped by deadlines and expectations choking him. its literally a narrative song about accepting this contract to make a full, professionally produced album and being unable to produce art on a schedule, of having to compromise artistic merit for production. literally “It’s been a long time since no mercy” is a lyric and so loaded it is

its what i want’s breakdown at the end that kills me. “i want to sing and make songs, i want to dance all day long, i wanna be a big part of a big corporation,” this miserable admission that he wants to make art but he wants also the financial security of selling out, he wants to be safe, he doesnt want to rely on the unreliable state of hitting it big randomly. and the video. him working in his room, time passing in the darkness, miserable, and then descending into this completely different world with bright colours and 2d skeletons and a colourful cartoon band, and he walks through and admits what he wants is not just to be an independent artist but to be protected by a corporation, to be famous and secure and safe, and then he takes a hand and steps up on stage and changes from his real self into this persona, the character, and finally is happy, only to at the end cut back to him in front of his computer screen.

drunk is literally like. ive never heard anything like it. ive never heard anyone talk about alcoholism, especially that kind of alcoholism so powerfully and violently before. when i lived in beijing i was so stressed and miserable i was doing a shot of vodka from the bottle every morning before i got on the subway. by summer of 2013 i was bringing a water bottle of vodka with me to work to take the edge off. i was drowning a whole bottle every time i lost another job and stumbling into the street so wasted i could barely walk, sobbing and miserable and listening to drunk makes me uncomfortable. its so fucking powerful

i just cant wait to die hits that fucking. god. im so tired and i cant wait to be done. im so tired, let me be done, please

[rachelbethhines]

Tangled Salt Marathon - The Way of the Willow

Now here’s a controversial episode from season one. Let’s delve into the discourse, shall we. 

Summary:  It's Queen Arianna's birthday, and she receives an unexpected guest: her estranged sister, Willow. Willow and Rapunzel quickly bond, sharing a lot of the same personality traits (most notably them never wearing shoes), and Arianna feels a bit left out. To add to her aggravation, Willow has given her a pet with an annoying rattle. Eventually, Arianna explodes at her sister, letting her know her irritation with her and throws away the rattle. The pet starts to multiply and rampage over the countryside. Meanwhile, Lance and Eugene  take the King camping. 

More Filler, More Poor Pacing, More Fatigue 

This is yet another episode that was moved around. Noticing a pattern yet? It doesn’t effect the plot much, but it kills the pacing dead. By the time you get to this episode you’re just tired and bored and ready for the show to just get on with things. 

Let's Talk About Representation 

So we have here a show that is marketed towards pre-teen little girls run by two middle aged white guys and written primarily by men. The creators have claimed that female relationships are the focus of the show, but only to give us one female friend for our main hero, no other friendships with women in them, just two sister relationships, and only one mother that is even alive. 

Furthermore they go on to break up that single female friendship, refuse to give any focus to the only mother in the show, and then wrap the plot around the dead abusive mom instead, making her unnecessarily even more horrible than she was in the OG film. (just to make the equally abusive father in the show look better)

Meanwhile we get four father figures, all of whom are just some variant on the ‘overprotective estranged dad’ trope. Even though at least two of them could have been easily written to be mothers instead and it’d not change the plot one bit.   

When women talk about about poor representation in media, it’s things like this we are often complaining about. That’s not to say that men can’t write women.  Miyazaki, of Studio Ghibli fame, has made a lifelong career out writing movies for and starring women. Nor is this a claim that the TTS crew are misogynist. You can be well intentioned and still screw up. As is most often the case in films. 

But nevertheless, if you are writing for a demographic that you are not a part of then you need to either include those voices in the development of your story or reach out and consult people within that demographic. And no, you’re wife/niece/daughter/mother does not count here. You need to go beyond your personal social circle, as people who either don’t know you or have worked in the industry can be more open about what is needed in the writing process.  

Sadly there are rumors, (and please keep in mind this is only rumor, and we’ll never know the actual truth due to the fact that production artists are under contract and can’t share things without fearing for their livelihoods) but there are stories of the head showrunner shutting down the opinions of the female storyboard artists who warned him of some these creative decisions. 

Moreover said creator responded to criticisms of how his female characters were written by claiming he ‘knew strong women in his life’ as if that actually had anything to do with his writing skills. It’s a poor response and smacks of ‘Well I can’t be misogynistic, I love women. See, I married one’. Dear, male creators, please don't ever do this. It makes you look bad. 

So Where are Arianna and Willow From, Again?

The show keeps dropping hints that they’re from Corona itself and are born princesses, but that makes little sense. Because if Arianna was the rightful heir she’d have far more political power then she actually does in the show. If we’re to buy the idea that only Rapunzel will be in charge, and not her and Eugene, or even just Eugene. Then we have to accept that it’s because she’s the rightful heir by birth. If so, then Frederic must also be the blood heir or otherwise he wouldn’t be able to do all the things he does in the show. 

TTS is so determine to not have any real world markers in the show and keeping things a ‘fantasy’ that it winds up swinging too far in the opposite direction. To the point that it undermines its own worldbuilding.     

The Conflict Between Willow and Arianna is Good, but Unnecessary 

I’ve seen some debate over ‘who is right’ here, along with tons of unwarranted shade thrown at Willow, but the truth is, it doesn’t matter. Neither side is right or wrong, and for once the conflict in TTS is real, complex, not easily solvable with a ten minute conversation, and is presented evenly so that you know where each side is coming from. But in the end, it doesn’t add anything to the series. 

Willow is never seen outside of this episode. This is the only story that gives Arianna any kind of focus. Rapunzel learns nothing useful from witnessing their squabbles and it’s all build up to a be bad parable/parallel in the series finale. 

It’s a waste. A waste of conflict. A waste of character. A waste of time. 

Had Arianna been treated as an important character to the narrative, like she should have been, then maybe the episode would have fared better. 

Arianna is Reduced to a Pointless Parallel

We talked about it before but this might be the most grievous example of Tangled’s useless parallels.

Willow and Arianna are meant to be ‘foreshadowing’ (and I use that term loosely) for Rapunzel and Cassandra’s conflict in the finale season. Let me count the ways of how bad this actually is..

For starters Willows and Arianna’s conflit isn’t actually the same as Raps and Cass. There’s some overlap, but ultimately theirs is actually deeper and more complex than the Raps vs Cass stuff. It’s also only between them and does not involve ruining the lives of other people. So it’s a weak comparison to begin with.

Cassandra isn’t even here to make the parallel complete. She barely interacts with Arianna and has never met Willow on screen.

Rapunzel learns the wrong lessons from this. She gets encouragement from her aunt to go traveling and a pep talk from her mom during the show’s finale, but she doesn’t actually apply any of the actual context of the arguments being made to her own life. Making the parallel shallow.

Reducing a character from the original film, one that you did not create and who has reasons to be have more plot importance then they are given, to a mere ‘parallel’ for your favorite OC is just bad fanfiction. This is something that I would expect from a seven year old setting out to write their first ever story. Not from grown adults, who are supposedly professionals, who've worked for years in the industry and are employed by the largest entertainment studio in the world.

Now before you jump down my throat, there’s nothing wrong with fanfiction itself, nor with children exploring their favorite stories in ways they find personally fulfilling. But I happen to hold mass produced media to a different, and ultimately higher standard. As well should we all. A television show made by the mouse has more real world impact than a little girl posting on Ao3.

Critiquing stuff like female representation, the behind the scenes hiring processes that leads to either good or bad rep, and the impression these stories can have on people still developing their worldviews is important. Questioning things are needed in order to make change happen. If you never acknowledge how giving a show targeted to women to a male showrunner can cause problems then you’re never going to push the big companies for more female lead shows. Which means more women are left without work.    

This is Subjective but...

I don’t like the Uumlaut being used as the main conflict. Look, if you like the Gremlins references, good for you, but I was promised sword fights and adventure according to the pilot and all I got was a parody of a 80s horror comedy that decided to skip out on the ‘horror’ part. The Uumlaut isn’t threatening enough to be interesting and the lack of real threats and challenges in this show is really starting to weigh things down. Plus it just distracts from the far more interesting human drama going on with Willow and Arianna. 

Like if you don't want action to be the focus of every episode, that’s fine, but commit to that. Don't just half-ass it because you feel the need to shoehorn in an action sequence where it isn’t needed.    

Conclusion

I like Willow as a character, but not this episode. They needed to do more with her to justify her existence, and they needed to do more with Arianna while at it. Sadly, you won't really miss out on much if you decided to skip this episode and that’s a shame. 

Also... 

I’ll forever headcanon that Willow is the wife that Stan mentioned back in Rapunzel’s Enemy and that she’s his and Pete’s beard. You can’t change my mind. Poly relationships for the win! 

[verfugen]

Six Great Houses pt. 3 [final]

Ortas Combine, ruled by: House Fuji

“Powerlessness is a sin, remember it well.” - Motto of House Fuji - 

     Unlike how most Houses which had formed kingdoms by conquering the lands, Ortas Combine is actually one of the largest pre-existing kingdom which had existed over in Valga’s North Eastern hemisphere for over hundreds of years, which predates most of other Kingdoms’ existence. Currently, they pride themselves as the oldest kingdom of all the six. 

     Carrying the symbol of the sun, Ortas Combine was well-known for its artistic creations and its rich culturally diverse people united under a single banner. For that, they were known to welcome all those who wishes to be part of its grand Empire. With its rays symbolizing the 12 states and 12 noble houses that rule over them as providential lords ruling over them, with the Emperor in the middle, it stood was one of the strongest Kingdoms. Among those said noble houses was House Fuji of the Algridans. 

     At the time, the dynasty which had ruled over these lands was one of the greater Houses: Liao, now known to be annulled completely from the Ortas’ extensively long records, along with the rest of its past rulers. This was due to the House Fuji’s planned coup d'etat which they’d been letting it simmer since the day they became one of the great noble houses of the kingdom, and the uprising of the Six Great Houses only gave them the perfect raison d'etre. With it, they vindicated their cause. This in turn garnered the support of the entire eleven noble houses which had pledged their loyalty to the House Fuji. 

     However, they had a steep battle ahead. The Capitol of the Ortas Combine had the single largest military force, yet loyal to their child Emperor guarding it and its overall geographical location would have turned the entire siege into a meatgrinder. However, the House Fuji had decades to prepare for this, and their head, Kazuhito Fuji easily seized the throne of the child Emperor in a siege that lasted a single week. This was all thanks to the support of the House Hawkburn which had backed their military campaign. 

     With his rule established, the House Fuji burnt all records of the previous rulers and proclaimed themselves as ‘The new dynasty that shall cleanse the world’. After establishing their dictatorship, Ortas Combine began the single largest, if not the bloodiest of all military campaigns that the world had ever seen. Though most Houses were merciful to those that surrendered, and often provided refugees with a relief to integrate them, House Fuji was determined to establish themselves as the absolute powerhouse of the North East hemisphere. They were willing go as far as performing a cultural cleansing and ge.nocide all to make sure that their history would be written in THEIR favor. 

     Once the five years of constant military campaign came to an end and the Six Houses met once more, it was the Emperor of the Ortas Kingdom that had volunteered himself as the Emperor of the new lands they had conquered. Naturally, the Five Great Houses voted against them after seeing what the head of the House Fuji had done, as with his former ally of Hawkburn turned their backs against them. Kazuhito called Solace a traitor, Solace called Kazuhito conceited, and Kazuhito called him a hypocrite. This single argument turned Polaris Concord and Ortas Combine into bitter enemies. 

     To this day, it is not strange to see them fighting on occasional border skirmishes with one gaining grounds over the other, even proxy wars by using ‘terrorists’ and mercenaries against another. 

Royal Confederations of Aerzira, ruled by: House Ceru

“Aerzira is place of opportunity, but also a place where one can lose many things: Morality, common good practices, and even compassion. If you want to live here, you best leave those things behind. Otherwise, you will find yourself working in most undesirable of places, or worse. My advice? Take it, or leave it.” - Resident of Royal Confederation of Aerzira - 

     Like many of the Kingdoms formed by the Six Great Houses, the Royal Confederation of Aerzira were originally made up of individual kingdoms -- but rather than the noble houses, much of the kingdoms in that region’s powers were largely given to the middle class: The merchants. Therefore, there was hardly need for wars save for the occasional defense against overly ambitious kingdoms and some war-like nomadic Amorian tribe raids. However, due to its immensely hot climate, any ill-prepared armies even attempting to invade Aerzira was met with its natural wall of sandstorms, giant carnivorous sand worms, and excruciating hot weather before even coming anywhere near its green borders. 

     Without a proper guide like a Merchant to guide anyone, to even travel out in the open was a suicide. The guides made excellent money from the would-be merchants, the travelers, the foolishly ambitious, and even from kingdoms alike. Instead of weapons, and force of arms, the kingdoms of Aerzira talked by ‘cracking one’s own pursue’, a well-celebrated term that meant making bind contracts, making deals, and trades. It certainly helped when Aerzira was rich with the ruins of the Wardens’ lost cities and technologies, making it a hub for any archeologists and researchers alike. House Ceru of the Cyurens were one of such people. These archeologists and researchers that struck a gold mine so potent that it made them tremendously powerful and rich almost overnight. 

     They had their hands in one of the ‘Keys’ that the Wardens had failed to destroy. 

     The news of this quickly spread throughout the region and entire kingdoms scrambled over on top of each other to try and make deal with the House Ceru to possess such powerful arcane artifact. The head of the house, Meru Ceru, the current possessor (even to this day) of the Key ‘Barbatos’ instead of giving into the deals divided his power and wisdom to two other members of his House, and with their supreme new-found knowledge of the Wardens driven by their greed, they quickly became power players of the merchants. And in a span that lasted over hundreds of years, they controlled the entire Aerzira region both politically and economically, while giving the illusion of them being separated states and kingdoms. In reality, the kingdoms were entirely under the thumbs of House Ceru’s mercy. 

     And when Six Houses came together, they offered their support of the other five by giving economic aids and benefits, fueling their unstoppable war machine campaign with trades and deals that the other factions could not turn down. Unlike the other houses, they had no intention of expanding outwards, they were content with little kingdom of desert they had, and quickly became economic leaders of Valga. Their economic prowess was only seconded by the Federation of Nolgrun. 

     Today, the Kingdoms, instead of ‘kings’ have presidents and prime ministers, all set by the House Ceru and they are the top current leaders of medical field and lucrative entertainment industries. Out of all the Kingdoms, they are one of the least aggressive and have very little means of waging war. Why would they need to? The entire desert does it for them. 

United Clans of Votrary, ruled by: House Dhargor

“Let them hate us, as long as they fear.” - Motto of House Dhargor - 

     House Dhargor was strangest of the Six Houses. From start to finish, they have always been Amorians and has never been accepting of any other races into their House as one of their kin. They are proud warriors that have originated from clans and war-like roots, with strong honor-bound system and warrior-centric society that often gives them a view of ‘uncultured savages’ by most of other kingdoms. As such, their factions are looked down upon by just about everyone when engaging them in any sort of diplomatic talks, because due to the smallest of provocations would incite either skirmish, honor duels, or even ‘blood games’ to settle whatever matters. 

     Due to their nature, House Dhargor started with very little support of the other Great Houses and have focused on winning against small clans, local kingdoms and claiming wild lands as their own. Though their lands are not as big as other five, this formed a very closely-knit society of Amorians with like-minded individuals that viewed honor as their livelihood. And as civilization advanced, so did they and have kept to their old roots even with cities and skyscrapers towering over their skies. In addition, their constant warfare has led them becoming extremely potent fighters on urban grounds and jungles alike, making them extremely sought after as potential military recruits by other kingdom.  

     The United Clans of Volrary is also divided by caste, the highest of them being the ‘Great Khan’, the King of their great United Clan, the ‘Khan’, the leaders of the individual clans, the warriors, merchants, workers, farmers and slaves/servants. The lowest of the low are the ‘outcasts’. The warriors that murdered their own kin, or have turned against their own kingdom made them ideal mercenaries that any kingdom could ever hope to recruit for fulfill whatever mission parameters they had in mind. In addition, the fact that they were outside factor made them plausibly deniable factor within the Agreement of the Six.  

     However, with the world being continued to being polluted from magic, the United Clans of Votrary have began to take a firm stance on preserving nature and wild life as it is the world they all share. This began the greatest philosophical divide among them, with majority of them going on offensive against other kingdoms, or systematically isolate themselves like their ancestors from the eld on how they ought to deal with other five kingdoms. Due to the fact that the United Clans live near the borders of Polaris Concord, and Ortas Combine’s conflicts, and Holy Alliance of Udrasal’s unwanted religious push into their region, Volrary have been becoming increasingly more aggressive. 

     Over the years, the Clans have been becoming increasingly xenophobic as well. Anyone who is not an Amorian are considered enemies of their society, have been driven off their own lands, made slaves, or worse. With it, they have been becoming more increasingly militaristic to both expand and defend their borders. 

[occasionalfics]

the arrangement (1/1)

main masterlist | thor masterlist | ko-fi 

Summary: The past, present, and future collide when communication stops and your mind spins. But what happened? And what can you do to fix it?

Pairing: Sugar Daddy!Thor x Writer!Reader

A/N: I’ve basically only made posts on this blog to complain about how I can’t write anymore. This isn’t something I thought was gonna fix that, and I still don’t think it’ll make everything better (there are still at least 4 series I’ve started and never finished over the last year that might never see the light of day), but at least I got it out from start to finish. It’s only lightly edited because I genuinely just want to share it, so please enjoy it for what it is.

It’s also 100% wish fulfillment fantasy because I probably very much need to be cared for and dicked down.

Warnings: Mentions of sex (a lot of them), one scene that starts at the end of sex but isn’t super detailed or anything. Language. 18+ content ahead, read at your own risk.

Words: 7,536

You pretend to be asleep when he leaves in the morning. At first, when you started doing it weeks ago, you were just doing it to see what he was like when you weren’t looking. Just to confirm a few things that you didn’t want to have to go through his security camera feed to see because that would make you feel disgusting.

Every morning, he gets up at the same time (even weekends), showers and dresses, puts his pack together for the day, then sits on your side of the bed and bends to kiss you. It’s sweet. He asked if he could do it months ago, when this whole arrangement started, and you’d said yes thinking he wouldn’t stick with it.

But as far as you can tell, he has. Every. Morning. He makes sure to say goodbye to you, through kisses or words or both, every morning, even when you look and breathe like you’re asleep.

But two weeks ago, things at night have changed that don’t let you rest easy. It’s nothing drastic - nothing that makes you fear for your safety or anything - but...it’s enough.

He’s been coming home later each day. Minutes apart, like you won’t notice. He says less each night. Disengages from you earlier. You haven’t even had sex in a week.

A whole week!

That bothers you because sex is part of the arrangement. Now it s, anyway. You like it that way.

You were a struggling artist trying to pay bills and he was a wealthy Real Estate exec who’d happened upon a piece of yours in a literary journal that’d been mistakenly placed in his office one morning. Two pieces, actually; you’d written a poem and a short story for that edition, just to be able to go the extra mile and show what you were made of.

Thor’s always said he knew he needed to meet you the second he’d put the short story down. He’d contacted the literary magazine and its parent company and, finally, got through to someone with your phone number.

Yeah, it was really weird getting that phone call. Of course you were cautious to meet a man that’d tracked you down over a story, but he seemed genuinely interested in more of your work. It’d attracted you to him from the start, enough that you felt comfortable accepting his offer to meet in a very public cafe during one of their rush hours.

The rest was fate.

--

Dark henley, light jeans, pushed back dirty blond hair and the brightest blue eyes you’d ever seen. Holy shit you thought. That’s the single most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. And he was there for you.

The instant his eyes met yours, he recognized you. There was no chance to turn around, no time to even give thought to leaving. The beautiful man waved, smile gleaming as he stood to greet you. You felt pulled in by the atmosphere of him, like if this were to go on for too long, you might actually start rotating around him.

If only you’d known.

The energy between the two of you was electric from the start. He was kind, funny even, and his questions were never too much. He wanted to know what you were working on, was sad when you told him you had a novel in the works but it was too slow going to expect anything soon because work and home were too much for you to juggle them all regularly.

“My day job is kind of a nightmare,” you told him, hoping to wipe some of the disappointment from his beautiful face. “Like, I’m sure it’s actually not that bad, but it leaves me feeling...empty. It’s bad enough that, sometimes, I can't write. But I can’t afford to just leave it, so...writing takes a back seat.”

You knew it was too much to say, and yet, it felt like the weight of a whole planet was lifted off you once it was all out. Until another weight settled - the weight of losing your passion to the everyday grind of life.

“I know this isn’t how writing works,” he said, “but I was wondering if I might be able to commission something. Anything. I don’t have anything in particular I want - just...more of what you do.”

That caused you to pause. You’d never taken a commission before. You’d never even known it was possible for a writer, outside of journalism, really. 

“You want me...to write something...for you?” you asked him.

He nodded. “No stipulations. No word count minimums. Just...take twenty minutes every night and write me something. Here.” He pulled out his wallet and ignored your protests as you tried to dissuade him. He held out bills you didn’t even dare look at, and when you didn’t take them, he reached further and forced them into your hand, curling his fingers around yours.

You both stopped as electricity coursed through you.  His eyes met yours, his face set in the same expression of shock as yours, but then his hand closed tighter around yours, and he managed to get you to keep the bills as he sat back.

“Twenty minutes a night. Just get something out. It doesn’t even have to be good yet, because I know it will be, eventually.”  He winked. “In a week, we’ll meet back here and see what you’ve got. Deal?”

How could you deny him that? All he wanted was...your writing.

--

This morning, after he shuts and locks the front door of his penthouse apartment, you slowly rise. With Thor gone, the place is too quiet. Creepy, almost. And with how distant he’s been every night for the past two weeks, you doubly don’t like being alone.

You think about calling Wanda and having her come over, but you remember that she still has a day job. Natasha and Bucky and Steve and Sam all still have day jobs, too. You’re the only one lucky enough to have met Thor Odinson, to have him care for you like he does.

And god damn it, up until two weeks ago, you were so sure he cared so damn much for you, even beyond your arrangement. He’d moved you into his penthouse after you’d signed the contract your lawyers had drawn up together - just for an ultimate layer of safety for you both. He’d insisted you use his home office as your own because he never used it and preferred to keep his work and home lives separate anyway. He gave you a generous allowance, essentially still paying you for your writing, and got out of it only a handful of simple things you could give him.

First glances at everything you put to paper. Thor’s an excellent editor, even though it’s not his chosen profession. He’s honest and intellectual, funny and dedicated. He loves listening to you read what you’ve written that day - or did, up until two weeks ago - and you both cherish the time you spend going over additions and line edits, suggestions and the like. You think - or thought - it thrills Thor that he gets to be the first person - the only person in the world at the moment - to see your book.

Until two weeks ago, regular sex. Your lawyers were both anxious about adding that into a legally binding contract, so the two of you had agreed on a verbal basis that, yes, sex would be good. On the table, as it were. You’d both laid out your boundaries and talked about what you liked, and you’d thought you were compatible but...something’s changed. And you don’t like it.

Exclusivity. He promised he’d never keep you from your friends and family - and you’d promised the same - but romantically and sexually, the two of you were exclusive. It’s crossed your mind - and then been erased immediately by force - that...maybe he’s been distant because he hasn’t kept up this part of the bargain.

You wonder if this was enough. Or maybe too much? He’s...different now, and you’ve gone over what happened leading up to two weeks ago a million times in your head, but nothing stands out. Not anything that might make him lose interest without, you know, consulting you about it. You’d thought there’d been something in the contracts you’d signed about full disclosure when it came to discontent within the relationship, just so that issues could be dealt with or an amicable breakup could ensue without too much pain and misery in its wake.

Then...what? What’s changed his mind so recently that he barely even talks to you, let alone asks for your writing anymore?

--

The first day you’d lived with him - not including move-in day - was full of rest, disbelief at your situation, and a whole shitton of productive writing. You had an office! An office with a view of Central Fucking Park! Thor’s chair was unquestionably comfortable, and the surround-sound speakers he’d installed provided the perfect immersive sound to get you into your writing headspace.

Around lunchtime, it’d finally hit you that, entirely by circumstance, you were a full time writer. You were one of the lucky ones - like Harper Lee or Stephen King or someone else that didn’t have to work a soul-crushing job that sucked the life out of their eyeballs. You felt unstoppable. And you decided to order food in for lunch as a treat.

When Thor got home, you ran out of the office with a manila folder full of the chapterSSSS you’d written that day. More than one. To completion. Well, unedited, but still - thousands of words on paper in one day? You were too excited to keep it to yourself, even without him asking for you to share.

His smile reached his electric blue eyes. Thor put his bag on the kitchen counter, then swept you up and carted you off to the couch along the entry wall in the office. He kept you snugly in his lap while you read out your work to him - at first a little shy, even blushing at times - but growing in confidence as you went. He interjected with a few notes every few minutes, but mostly, he just listened.

When you reached the end of the final page, his lips gently touched the skin just below your ear. Tentative, you could tell, but cute. It lit your body up with goosebumps, had you putting your folder down to look at him. You breathed the same air for a beat before you asked, in a tinier voice than you’d expected, “What’d you think?”

His smile returned. “I love it,” he said. “I have some thoughts, but I see so much potential. I really believe in it, you know?”

“You do?” you asked.

He nodded. “Of course. You know I think you’re extremely talented. Gifted. I can’t wait for more.”

You let the folder slide off his lap and onto the seat next to him before kissing him. It hadn’t been part of the plan, but wouldn’t you know, it was amazing.

There was just something about someone so openly supporting your work, loving every step of the process with you that set your insides ablaze in the best way possible.

Thor broke the kiss just to say, “Apparently, I can.”

--

He hadn’t asked to read your new chapter the night before, but when you step into the office, you find the folder on the couch instead of the desk, where you’d left it yesterday. There’s a piece of paper, torn from inside a notebook, with a list of thoughts in Thor’s hand. Everything is fair and nonjudgmental, and of course it’s helpful for the next part you know you’re going to write.

Of course it is you think. The irony isn’t lost on you.

Still in your robe and panties - you’d hoped that would’ve been enough to seduce Thor last night and set things back to how they were before...well, yes, two weeks ago - you sit at the desk, open your computer (the one you’ve had since before this whole arrangement) and stare at the blinking cursor.

You want to write. You know what’s coming next for your main character. You have Thor’s list of suggestions - lists, really, as you have a file organizer full of sheets just like the one you found a moment ago on the corner of the desk - and your brain is ready to work, but something stops you.

Your stomach feels knotty. Your chest is heavy, and your eyes won’t focus. Writing is impossible  like this, but you can’t fathom doing anything else.

You get out one word. Another. One more. A sentence.

You freeze again. That sentence sucks. It’s wrong, and it should never exist. Thor would hate it.

Would he? Even if he did, he’d never say it like that...right?

The uncertainty inside you rises, and with it, insecurity. If he can’t even listen to you read anymore, if he can’t tell you to your face what he thinks of what you’ve written...are you even good anymore? Is he avoiding you because, suddenly, he no longer believes in you?

That seems drastic, but you can’t think of anything to counter it.

You sigh because, before  Thor, you never needed validation like this. You know it’s not that you must know if you’re still a good writer, but that you want his approval. You want, specifically, to make him happy with your work again.

Groaning, you know this book will never get finished if Thor doesn’t tell you what he’s thinking. Maybe you didn’t start this project because of him, but you’d written more and more because he’d asked (and paid) you to. You’d gotten through chapter after chapter because he’d encouraged and helped you. 

Because he’d said he believed in you.

--

It was a slow, slow day. You turned off all the clocks and taped over the one on your computer with masking tape so you could focus on the page, but not knowing what the time was didn’t make the words come, and it didn’t make the day go any faster. If anything, it slowed everything down even more.

When Thor came home, he called out for you, but all you did was groan defeatedly in response. You heard him chuckle to himself, and then he was in the office with you, standing just behind the chair you were curled up in, both of you facing the mostly blank page.

“I barely wrote anything today,” you said, covering your  eyes with the palm of your right hand. “I don’t know what’s wrong so don’t ask.”

“But there are words there. Read them,” he said, his command soft but true.

“I don’t wanna,” you mumbled indignantly. “They’re awful, Thor. I hate every single one of those words.”

“It’s only a few paragraphs you have to get through-”

“Ugh! Don’t remind me!” You lower your face to your knees, replacing your hand with the even less comfortable surface of your bent legs. And then you groaned like a baby,  whining because nothing you did all day would ever amount to anything.

Thor shook his head and simultaneously turned your chair to face him while he kneeled so he had to look up at you.

“Hey,” he said softly, poking at your shin. “Y/N, look at me please.”

You couldn’t deny him, but you didn’t have to lift your head completely. Just enough for you to peek down at him suspiciously.

“You wrote something today. That’s more than most people on this planet can say they’ve achieved.”

You scoffed. “Yeah right.”

“I’m being serious. Do you have any idea how in awe of your ability I am? Honestly?” When you didn’t respond at all to that, he reached out and gently rubbed your leg. “Babe, you’re an author. You create worlds and people every single day. Every day for the last few weeks you’ve written thousands of words, and that’s… Fuck, that’s more than impressive. So you had one day where you got out-” He looked at the computer screen, seemed to count, then shrugged. “Four paragraphs? So what?”

“I’m a fraud,” you muttered.

“No, you’re not. You’ve done so much work in so little time, I’m surprised this hasn’t happened before today. You’re a wildly effective and competent writer, and you’re going to finish this book. But you’re also going to have slow days. Even the slow days are days you still get work done, though.”

He let you sigh, but nothing else.

“Read them to me. And take tomorrow off. I will, too.”

That got your attention. You sat up a bit, still staring at him incredulously, only for a different reason now.

“Really?”

He nodded, then pushed himself up far enough to kiss you. “Really,” he promised under his breath.

--

No matter how you replay the last three weeks, the last month, the last two months, you can’t figure out what happened. What you did. What caused the change in Thor? Was it your writing, or just...you?

If it were you, thought, you can’t fathom why he still comes in to kiss you goodbye every morning. That hasn’t changed. It’s the only thing that’s stayed the same, in fact.

And it isn’t enough to calm you. It’s nice, routine, but it’s not…

You sigh.

It’s not late night conversations - pre- and post- sex - about art, both yours and otherwise. It’s not reassurances and validation and understanding. It’s just shallow but nice little act he can put on to try and make things seem normal. It’s the least amount of effort he can put into this whole arrangement, and it’s so fucking frustrating to know that.

You decide the computer is useless. Trying to write today is useless. You shut your laptop and push away from the desk, then get up off the chair and head back into the bedroom. You’re on autopilot when you go to  the closet and pull down a suitcase, not even thinking twice before filling it up with haphazard piles of your clothes from the closet and dresser. The thing won’t even close, but you don’t care.

With what’s left of your stuff, you get dressed. You decide Central Park is too pretty to just look at today, so you dress warm and head out, automatically double checking that your keyring is in your purse before getting in the elevator.

The sky is clear, and the air is crisp. You head into the park, taking in the familiar sounds and sights. Couples stroll past you - some more intimate than others - and you feel your heart lurch into your throat.

It’s fine you tell yourself. It’s not like you and Thor ever gave each other labels. You were official on paper, sure, but you were never, like, his girlfriend.

Maybe you should’ve been keeping distance this whole time. Just a little. Just enough so that, when something like this happened, you wouldn’t be so torn up about it.

You head by Wollman Rink and stop. Memories flood your head, and you shut your eyes to keep from tearing up. You can’t help it, since you feel so much on the outside of everything right now.

When you compose yourself, you get closer to the rink. You watch as people - mostly children today - twirl and skate around the rink, and you yearn for something you fear you might not ever  have again.

--

Apparently, Thor had been talking about you with his friends. Tony Stark in particular was excited to meet you, and who ever, in this entire world, got to put that on their resumè?

Stark put together this whole double-date. Well, Tony was the one taking credit, anyway. His finacè, a lovely, gorgeous redhead named Pepper, was the mastermind behind it all. Everyone knew it.

It was especially evident when your group made it to Wollman Rink and Stark put his skates on. Pepper twirled in tight circles around him, but the Billionaire Genius stood with his hands out, knees apart, and a slightly terrified look on his face as he tried to maneuver - not very well - around the ice.

You were a little wobbly at first, but Thor never took his hand from yours. Of course he was rather good at skating - besides writing, what wasn’t Thor good at? - so he mostly just guided you around the rink, keeping you close while also sometimes taking the lead and letting you drag behind him, just for fun.

After a while, he suddenly pulled you in close to him and took you by surprise, kissing you in the middle of the rink. You melted into him as much as you could in the brisk December night, and he caught every bit you gave. Your pink noses barely registered as touching, given how cold they both were, but you knew. It was always like that with Thor.

“Hey!” you both heard Tony yell. “Stop showing off, asshole!”

Pepper immediately chastised him, stating that the children now chortling around him were too young for such language.

A little while later, the group collectively agreed to call it a night on the skating and try to find some hot chocolate somewhere. The penthouse wasn’t far, so worst case scenario, everyone clambered up to your building and you’d make hot cocoas there.

Thor and Pepper offered to return the rented skates, and while you were slipping your boots back on, Tony took a second to get kind of real with you. If you hadn’t spent the whole night watching him and Thor bickering back and forth, you wouldn’t think twice about the serious look he was giving you.

“You really like him, right?” he asked.

You nodded without hesitation. “He’s… He’s so special.” You hadn’t meant to sound dreamy, but that didn’t stop your voice from taking on an airy quality. “I’ve never met anyone like him before.”

“Good, good,” Tony said, though clearly he had more on his mind. “It’s just- I know he likes you. A lot. Like, a lot a lot. He’s been talking about your writing for almost a year nonstop and, I mean-”

“Wait,” you cut in. “A year?”

You’d only met Thor three months ago.

“We didn’t know he was talking about you, at first. He’s just raving about some poems or something. We thought he’d, you know.” He pointed to the side of his head, then let his fingers flutter away as he rolled his eyes. “He just had to find you. But you don’t have a website or anything, not even to display your social media- I’ve got a few friends I could talk to about managing all of that for you, by the way, and-”

You cleared your throat as Thor and Pepper made their way back. They were far enough away still that, when Tony gauged their distance, he had enough time to turn back and quickly tell you, “He’s in it. For you. Be careful with him, okay?”

You didn’t know what that was supposed to mean, but you nodded anyway. Of course you’d be careful with Thor. You had a contract and everything. You’d been careful all along.

Something told you that wasn’t what Tony meant, though.

When you made it back to the penthouse for the night, you got into your warmest pajamas and slid into bed. Thor’d forgone a shirt, but he so did most nights. He wrapped you in his arms, warming your still cold skin on contact, and asked, “So what’d you and Tony have to talk about earlier?”

Be careful with him, okay? 

As the question rang in your head, you shook it. “He’s just looking out for you,” you mumbled, yawning through the last word. “He’s a good friend.”

“Sometimes,” Thor joked.

You managed to laugh, then snuggled in tighter. “I’m glad you have him. And me.” Your eyes shut and you stilled against Thor’s warm torso, breathing in his familiar, musky scent.

You swore you heard him mutter something else, but were too close to sleep to know exactly what it was.

--

A child runs past you, and the caretaker excuses herself as she hurries after the kid. You step back from the rink and head further into the park, keeping your arms in tight to fight off the chill. You find a hot chocolate vendor, glad to have something warm to wrap your fingers around for a while.

You stroll through the park hoping something might inspire a spark, but mostly just wanting to distract yourself. There’s an annoying poking thought in your head that, once you go back to the penthouse with your clothes all stuffed into a - completely open - suitcase, everything will unravel. Nothing will ever be the same. It scares you, makes you seek refuge elsewhere, pushes you deeper into the recesses of public spaces. You don’t register your phone pinging once in a while, or if you do, you choose to ignore it.

Eventually, the sun starts to go down, and you know you have to return home soon. Thor will be home soon, too. And even if it’s just to say goodbye…

You can’t finish that thought. It takes you a minute to process, but you realize that it’s not just because of the writing. Like, yes, his support and encouragement has meant everything to you, but it’s...so much more than that.

He believes in you. In everything you do. He’s kind and gentle and he genuinely seems to like you. He’s been generous and fun and wonderful for six months, and you’re not ready to go on without all of that.

Your feet stop moving because your mind is reeling as you think that you don’t want to go on without him...because you love him.

Your mind tries to fight off the emotion that bubbles in you, but your heart won’t let it. You have to feel this as you come to accept it. As you recognize that you don’t want to say goodbye, you can’t let him go because he’s the best part of your life. You love Thor Odinson, and maybe you’ve known it for a while. Or felt it or whatever. The feeling doesn’t read as “new” in your body, in any case. It registers as comfortable, like a huge, warm blanket wrapping you up and keeping you safe and cozy.

I love Thor.

Your mind, ever persistent, reminds you of the last two weeks. The distance. The silent notes, in place of the intimate reading sessions. The morning kisses that seem to have taken the place of steamy makeout sessions and hot, strenuous lovemaking. The gestures that now feel empty, filling you up with hot air instead of weighty reassurance.

God, how could you be so stupid? To think that someone like Thor would love you? Tony had said it all those months ago - Thor loved your writing. He probably just tolerated all the rest. Once he figured that out for himself, he withdrew, which is why he’s been leaving you high and dry and alone for two straight weeks.

Heartbroken and determined, you head back to the penthouse. The sun has set by the time you reach the building, but you ignore your shivering and numb fingers as you board the elevator.

Now you’re angry. Not angry enough to scream or make a scene, but angry enough to force  that suitcase closed and leave. Angry enough not to leave a letter, and apparently petty enough to make Thor beg for an explanation. Maybe you just want to see if he will.

But the moment you reach the door and realize it’s already unlocked, everything fades away. Everything. You’re hollow.

You enter the apartment and pull off your coat, but don’t bother hanging it on the rack beside the door. Your plan is just to put it on again in a few minutes anyway.

Thor comes out of the bedroom looking confused and sad. His brow is knit so tightly you know he has to be in pain. He stares at you, and you see his shoulders shake, but you keep your distance.

“Y/N,” he calls, despair and loneliness creeping into his voice. The mixture does something inside of you, but you try not to notice.

And you fail. You fail because there’s only one other time he’s ever called your name like that.

--

He was off the whole night. You’d gone through your regular motions, excited as ever to read the next chapter to him to hear his thoughts, but as you came to the end of the printed section, he sighed and hummed, but didn’t say anything.

“Thor,” you said gently. “What’s up?”

“Hmm?” He caught your eye for just a moment before gazing across the living room and shaking his head. “Nothing. Just had a long day, I guess.”

He’s had long days before, though. You know from experience that, on long days, he comes home and asks if you want to go out for dinner, then immediately asks to go to bed upon returning home. He promises you can read as much or as little as you want the next day, and you both normally just...go to sleep.

This was different.

You shut your folder, put it on the coffee table in front of you, and turned so you straddled his thighs. You were wearing a dress that day, one with a wide, flowy skirt, so you had plenty of room to get comfortable. You cupped his jaw in both your hands and forced him to look at you, and without words, you communicated that you knew something more than just work was on his mind.

“Sorry,” he murmured. “I shouldn’t lie to you.”

“Just tell me what’s wrong, babe.”

He searched your eyes for something. You figured he had to have found it, because he sighed and nodded. “I found out my brother was arrested today. It’s not his first time, either. Our father is insisting I let him learn his lesson in prison, but I can’t just let my brother rot.”

“Oh,” you said, then realized how bland and disinterested it sounded. “Oh, Thor,” you tried again, arms going all the way around his neck. You hugged him close, and he pulled you in even tighter. “I’m so sorry.”

He tried to tell you that it was alright, but clearly it wasn’t. His shaking shoulders told you that much, and his hitched breaths told you more.

You pushed on the back of his head until his forehead touched your shoulder. “Shh, it’s okay,” you whispered to him. “Get it all out, babe. I’m here. I’m with you.”

He didn’t cry. Didn’t sob. Apparently would not dare to get your dress all wet. You would’ve let him if he had, though.

When he calmed down, he kissed your shoulder once. Twice. Trailed his lips up to your neck and around your jaw, leaving a single kiss on your lips as he settled his forehead against yours. “Y/N,” he said, shaky and so unlike Thor you had to convince yourself you hadn’t imagined it. On another shaky breath, he let out a simple but meaningful, “Thank you.”

--

He looks at the bedroom doorway, sucks in a tight breath, and starts, “Were you…” He can’t finish until he’s looking at you again, though. “Were you going to leave?”

Your jaw tightens. And not even out of anger. You hate it when Thor’s like this because it’s not even like he’s being possessive or anything. He’s not trying to control you. He’s asking in this broken voice that snaps your resolve string by string until you’re nothing but frayed edges inside. And you hate it all because it means he’s just as broken as you are.

“I-” you start, but you can’t find the right words to follow it up. Yes feels wrong, and you’re not even sure it’s the truth anymore. Maybe...for just a moment… But how could you leave? How could you ever even think of walking away from all of this? All of him?

Two weeks. It’s been two weeks of silence and separation, two weeks of being in your own little world within the walls he provided and you don’t even know why.

Oh yeah. That’s how you could leave.

“Y/N,” he says again, this time more sure of the emotion in his chest and tone. “Were you packing a bag to leave me?”

You stand your ground, but try not to come off as angry even still. You’re not angry. You’re just...lonely. And alone. On your own team for the first time in six months. “Yes,” you answer.

His breathing gets heavier. You refuse to look away. He seems to calm himself a little bit, but doesn’t sound much better when he asks, “May I ask why?”

How dare he attempt to be polite right now? But, you remind yourself, it’s his nature. He’s always like this, no matter what. He can’t even be angry properly, and that makes everything even worse.

Torn between owing him an explanation and demanding one yourself, you say the only thing you can think to say that might give both of you answers.

“You stopped touching me. Stopped talking to me. You’ve barely looked at me the last two weeks, and I’m tired of being alone. I may as well go back to my shit job and crowded apartment.”

You’re just about to let the emotion, the rage and tears settle in when he pauses. Steps back a little. Just stares at you, like what you just said is preposterous. But then something in his expression clicks, a light flickering behind his eyes, and he seems to know he’s done everything you’ve accused him of.

Before you know what you’re doing, you’ve decided you’re not done, though.

“I thought I did something, Thor. I thought you were just too nice to tell me what it was, so you got quiet and distant in the hopes that I would just...leave.” As you say it, you know how ridiculous it sounds. It’s a thought process better suited to the inside of your brain. But you’re still going. “What else was I supposed to do? You weren’t asking for my new chapters, you were barely even looking at me. And I was just supposed to take the hint? Well, hint taken.”

His eyes fell to the floor in shame. You stepped lightly toward him, stopping with just enough room that your shoulder just barely grazed his arm.

“If I knew what I did, I would’ve fixed it, Thor. I would’ve tried. But I had no clues-”

“You didn’t do anything,” he whispers.

You can’t move then, except watch him sigh and shake his head.

“You’re not the cause of my misbehavior, Y/N. Not directly.”

Not for the first time, you wonder if he really does have another woman. But you know him, and you know him well enough to know he’d never break that promise of exclusivity. You’re not confident in much about your arrangement right now, but that is one thing you know for sure, without any doubts.

Which only leaves you to believe that maybe he wants to break the promise and just won’t out of a sense of duty or something. Like he’s just sticking with it because you won’t let him out of the deal.

None of it makes any sense, and you know it’ll make you sound like a crazy jealous demon if you say it out loud. So you don’t.

And that’s enough encouragement for Thor to look at you again, all of the world’s weight alive and heavy in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. The sound is so familiar, you nearly lean into him for comfort.

--

He stilled inside of you, the both of you suddenly quiet and tense. This...wasn’t supposed to happen. You only met the man a week ago, and today was only the second time you’d seen him in person.

But after he’d read your work from the week before, you’d talked. About everything. You told him way too many embarrassing stories about your childhood and he told you all about the private schools he got expelled from because he’d been a hellion of a young boy. You could still see the spark of mischief in his eyes if you looked hard enough, and you found that, yeah, you really kind of liked it.

You’d asked him to come up to your apartment. It was empty at the moment, since all of your roommates had lives and jobs, too. You’d just wanted to keep talking, but maybe in a place where it didn’t matter how loudly you laughed at his stories or how boisterous he became in response to yours.

He was charming. Gorgeous. So nice. Too nice, really. He paid for refills of coffee, then followed your lead to your apartment.

Things had started in the kitchen, but then you’d gotten hungry, so he ordered in Thai. You’d brought him into the bedroom so you could watch a movie and eat without the forced space a couch might offer. He was warm and easy to feel comfortable around.

When the movie ended, you talked some more. About the movie, about what you were going to write next. Everything.

And then you leaned up on your knees and kissed him. One thing led to another, and then he was fucking you better than you’d been fucked in a long, long time. Maybe ever. He was generous in all things, it seemed.

It was only when you both came down from your highs that you, collectively, seemed to remember that he’d paid you to write for him. Sex seemed complicated and taboo in conjunction, and that thought made you feel hollow, despite only minutes ago feeling like you could lift the world on your back and carry it easily.

Minutes passed and you said nothing. He didn’t say anything, either.

But then he did. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, slow and genuine.

You felt your chest tighten at the thought that he regretted what you’d done together. It made no sense, given how you kind of regretted it, too, but you knew it wasn’t the feeling of it all that you regretted. The act, sure, under the circumstances.

But the success of the trial? Absolutely not.

You shook your head. “No, no, don’t be. It’s okay.”

“Your silence indicates otherwise.”

“Well yours did, too.” You sighed and tried to explain what was going on in your head, and when he finally met your eyes, you knew the truth of the whole matter: You didn’t regret a thing. Not really.

“Like I said, don’t be sorry,” you told him, finally managing a small smile.

It was enough to encourage him to kiss you again, and your stomach erupted in a kaleidoscope of butterflies. If kissing him like this felt so right every time, you never wanted to do anything else.

--

This time, you have no reason to tell him not to be sorry. This isn’t a mistake, and your silence isn’t your own fault.

His electric blues are deep and dark, and they scream at you not to let go. “I’m sorry,” he says again, the last word breaking on the end of a breath. “Please...please don’t leave.”

Your brow furrows, more confused than anything else. “Why not?” you ask, trying your best not to sound mad because, truly, his plea intrigues you more than sparks anger. You were so sure, until that moment, that he’d simply been meaning to find a good way to ask you to leave.

But now… That’s not even a possibility.

He surprises you by bringing a hand out, begging for your touch. On instinct, mostly, you respond, your fingers sliding right into his palm like they were made to fit together perfectly.

“Do you trust me?” he asks.

You nod. There are no other answers. You trust Thor, and you know, somewhere inside, that he never really meant to play with your feelings. Whatever he’s trying to show you now will fix everything. You have to believe it, or else you’ll really, truly break.

“Say it.”

“I trust you.”

He relaxes enough that you notice, then pulls you along into the bedroom. He asks you to sit on the edge of the bed, then picks up a long envelope from his nightstand.

“I should’ve been more attentive here, but I was doing my best not to ruin a surprise,” Thor says, handing you the envelope. When all you do is stare up at him, he nods at the package in his hands, and waits patiently.

You take it. Open it. Inside is your contract. Every page. You stare up at him, brows furrowed deeper in confusion. “What?” you ask.

“I’ve been discussing this with both of our lawyers this week. And the week before that, I was trying to figure out what I wanted to say to the lawyers. But...this is big and I was nervous, and I knew I should’ve said something to you, but I-” He stops, clears his throat, and looks away from you. “I wanted it to be a surprise.”

You slide the contract back into the envelope, then put it on the bed. “What surprise?” you ask.

“I was going to have the contract terminated.”

The same dread from earlier fills you, until you remember that he wouldn’t have pulled you in  here to explain everything if all he was going to do was kick you out. He wouldn’t ask you to stay, in that case. You try to control your reaction, which ends up meaning that you don’t really react at all, except to ask him, “Why?”

“I want us to be real,” he says plainly, forcing himself to meet your gaze. It’s not too long before he’s lowering himself into a kneeling position in front of you, grasping for your hand again. “I don’t want there to be any obligations. If any legally binding contract is going to exist between us, I want it to be nothing short of a marriage license. The last two weeks have been excruciating, and I know that’s all my own doing, and I’m sorry I put you through that, but please believe me when I say that I love you, Y/N. I love you, and I was trying to do anything I could to end the artifice and make this real.”

“Make...us…” You trail off, mind running at a million light years. Too fast for you to process. Things don’t compute correctly, like when your fingers type faster than your brain can think of words, and all you end up saying is, “You...you love me?”

Thor nods. “I do. I love you so much, and all I wanted was a chance for us to make things work on our own terms, without expectations. Without mutual gains with monetary value.”

You start asking him silly questions, because they’re all you can think to bring up. “So you don’t hate my book? You’re not disgusted by me? You want more of me?”

He confirms with double negatives and a positive. “Of course I want more, Y/N. I’d have to be living under a rock not to.”

“Did you say you wanted to marry me?” you ask him, only just now starting to catch up.

He laughs, nods, and pushes himself up so you’re level. “Without a shadow of a doubt. We already live together. We’ve been together for half a year, and I love you. We don’t have to rush- whenever you’re comfortable, just say the word and-”

But there are no words. Only actions.

You can’t find it inside yourself to hold the last two weeks against him anymore. All that insecurity has washed away with a few simple affirmations - but God Damn are they effective.

You crash your lips against his, arms winding around him as tightly as you can make them go. He pulls you to him, fitting snugly between your knees as he deepens the kiss, rolling his tongue over your lips, asking for an invitation.

A little levity of the night settles back into your brain then, and you gently pull back instead of letting him ravish you. For now. You give him a serious look, but you can’t stop smiling through it.

“Don’t ever go quiet like that again, Thor. I was so scared and alone, I never want to feel that way again.”

He nods. Light from the hallway shines on his face, and you see tear streaks have stained his cheeks. Your thumbs come around and wipe them away, and he smiles so prettily at you that you almost cry, too.

“I promise. I’m so sorry, Y/N. I promise, I’ll always tell you what I’m up to.”

He kisses all over your face, repeating himself between points of contact, swearing to any God who’ll listen that this will work. That he loves you, that he’s sorry, and then-

“I love you too, you know,” you get out. 

And the whole thing starts all over again.