idjunho

[idjunho]

[idjunho]

“She wasn’t my first kiss but she’s the kiss that mattered, the kiss that made me realize I didn’t want to kiss anyone else. So now my lips belong to her. Just look at them… Her name’s written all over them.”

— Oko Ninjah

[idjunho]

ideunju‌:

“i love dance dance revolution, i used to play it all the time - i was the local champ in gwangju,” she says in reply, already knows that he knows, but plays along nonetheless. the mask on her face serves as a decent cover to the grin that lifts her cheeks but she’s sure her eyes give her away when she stops being careful and meets his gaze head on. “i could probably even show you a few killing moves to use on stage with your band, if you’d like, junho-ssi. xlnc, right?”

their game of charades, playing pretend of the people expect them to be — strangers, two people of the industry who aren’t meant to be close; every force to exist working against them to pull them apart like magnets that come so close but never touch: it’s fun for the short time, pretending to be only friendly acquaintances and nothing more. but how long could they keep this act up for before it would inevitably grow old, fabricated, unbelievable?

if they were magnets, it would be hard to hide the blatant attraction that pulls them together every time. the arcade is expectedly crowded for a friday night, nothing too surprising; but junho still finds himself bumping into her side as he always does when there’s no one else around. he puts his hands back into his sweatshirt pockets to consciously force himself not to put his hands anywhere near her, not to let himself slip and reach for her hand. 

junho isn’t a good actor, and his questions remain short, vague to mask his lack of skill at the art. “yeah? how did that happen?” every question is just a filler until they make it out of earshot from her group of friends that one last crane of his head back tells them that nobody has even noticed they’ve wandered off. the machine in front of them blares its sample music and lights at them, a perfect volume to drown out their actual conversation. “they didn’t even notice we walked away,” junho comments, finally breaking character to smile at her as he steps up onto the dance mat and leans against the bar to let her browse through the songs list. 

“junho-ssi. xlnc, right?” he reaches a hand out of his pocket to playfully poke her side, laughing. “were you that formal with me when we first met?” maybe it was because he was half of the guilty party hiding their relationship from the rest of the world that junho was sure someone was bound to question their interactions at some point. there was always the glint of something more than sparkled in both their eyes when they looked at one another, and there was no way that couldn’t be obvious to anyone else. it’s exactly why meeting in an arcade of all public places made the most sense: dark, loud with bright lights to dim that glimmer just enough to reduce them both to cordial, erases the romance that was clearly there if you looked hard enough. 

he looks at her again, his lovesick grin foolishly stuck on his face. “you look cute tonight,” he wants to give her a kiss, just a quick peck to get it out of his system — he’s itching for it, jonesing for just one worse than a smoker without any cigarettes. “i wanted to tell you earlier.”

MISS ATOMIC BOMB,

[idjunho]

DAY6 First Fan Meeting “You Made My Day” Photocard Set © 데이앤데이

[idjunho]

BELIEVE ME NATALIE,

                                                  you left the station                                                           now to the floor with speculation                                                                        @idmyungeun​

the gradual loss of sunlight throughout september is the reality junho is faced with — summer is finally over. he wishes he could rewind it all, maybe even just a week, play it in infinite loops. pro.j was coming to an end which meant eunju’s schedules would soon be changing, just as his own would when his company would begin their preparations for xlnc’s plausible autumn comeback.

the two had figured out a schedule they’d thought was foolproof. it consisted of junho coming to her training facility’s back gate just around the time of her timely breaks, to which the couple had mastered in a relatively short amount of time. with eunju still without a cell phone, communication was rough outside of their brief nightly meetings. the seclusion of the building away from the general buzz of the city was good for his own inconspicuousness, dim lighting a good way to help mask his identity and keep off the radar.

in the back of his mind, somewhere, some neuron tries to spark his rationality: he’s really doing this, really out here putting so much on the line for both of them. their line of successes at not getting caught together are bound to run thin, eventually. but junho’s adoration for eunju has overridden those thoughts, evidently, as he has chosen to come back to the same spot they’d met at a second night in a row; the glow from his phone illuminates just the faint traces of his nose and lips while he paces, waiting. 

[idjunho]

hey y’all i had posted this on discord but figured it’s better just to post on the dash so the people not on discord can see it? i’d like to get some new threads going (esp with people i haven’t threaded with before) so if you’d like to plot you can like this post and i’ll hit u up!! [ insertdowoongifhere.gif ]

[idjunho]

hey y’all i had posted this on discord but figured it’s better just to post on the dash so the people not on discord can see it? i’d like to get some new threads going (esp with people i haven’t threaded with before) so if you’d like to plot you can like this post and i’ll hit u up!! [ insertdowoongifhere.gif ]

[idjunho]

ideunju‌:

they’d set the world ablaze.

even now, the heat is stifling in the best of ways. she shifts under him, frees her arms just enough to take the straps off altogether, lowers the bodice of her dress until she’s naked from the waist up. it’s an invitation, one that goes without saying, but she kisses him again anyway. she feels shy, sure, vulnerable, even, but there’s little else that she’s been quite as certain of as this. “i think you should make it up to me now,” she prompts, breathless, a callback to earlier.

it’s such a silly question. of course he’s proud of her.

“that should be a no brainer,” it’s something he won’t admit aloud, but he likes having her to be proud of, the two of them bordering on something so close to being called a legitimate couple; being proud of his girlfriend: the concept still seems so foreign in his head to think of her that way despite being almost certain that the two of them have already begun to cross that line together.

his recent prioritizing of eunju before nearly everything else in his life — namely his band and his bandmates — leaves junho somewhat unhinged. he could be downstairs with the rest of his group but instead he’s sneaking back into his room to have her all for himself. it’s not in character for him at all, but even more, he doesn’t think twice about it. he’s stopped thinking twice about her.

her mock insults do little but bring the dumbest, lovesick grin to his face and the familiarness of bubbling inside his chest. if he could live an entire life of listening to her speak, hear the hint of her satoori tucked beneath her words she tries to hard to tease him with, he would consider himself the happiest man alive. and if he could have that? then this — this moment — was equally as satisfiable.

it’s not that he even needs her verbal confirmation to assure himself she feels the same way about him as he does her, but when it does come, there’s nothing he has to say. instead, he kisses her again, again, again until he’s playfully drowning her in a shower of kisses all over her face and neck. everything suddenly feels right, like all of their time spent sparing glances at one another, sneaking into her training rooms at her company long after everyone had gone home — for a girl with an arguably busier schedule than his own, someone he never would’ve pictured himself hovering over in a hotel room half a year later, junho couldn’t argue with the universe dropping oh eunju into his lap.

her words linger over them, heavy, as junho silently agrees; his eyes fall to her breasts and he breathes outwardly, carefully pulls the rest of her dress down until she’s no longer protected, covered — it’s a stark contrast from their time before, equally as sensual, but now, entirely the more intimate. he undresses himself too before his hands wander over her exposed body, lips attaching to hers to kiss her gently, help take the edge off. 

party favors,

[idjunho]

MISS ATOMIC BOMB,

                                                          and for a second there we'd won                                                           yeah, we were innocent and young                                                                                                   @ideunju​

there’s only a few things junho can appreciate from being from a group that isn’t constantly bombarded with overwhelming fans, and arguably the greatest thing to go along with it is his freedom of mobility. how the other more well-known idols of the industry manage to get around a city of ten million without a constant trail of fans lingering behind is beyond him — he likes still being classified as somewhat normal. sure, there are the occassions when someone will recognize him on the street, but those are rare, and most often only result in a few pictures from afar that are only posted to fanclub blogs.

but he feels some pressure now, being invited out for some food and time at an arcade with msg entertainment trainees that include: eunju. it’s a challenge not to let himself seem too obvious, sneaking glances, standing too close when the situation doesn’t call for it. junho has grown far too physically attracted to her in the privacy of their own time that  now is their first test keeping things lowkey in the public eye — literally. so to play the part, junho dresses himself as casually as possible: hoodie, jeans, vans and a face mask to keep the attention off himself not just within the group, but to the strangers around him as well. fan rumors leaking to the executives at his company wouldn’t just be bad for their images as a whole, but detrimental to their relationship as well.

they play along with the whole charade of not being familiar with one another, using formalities whenever they had to around the other trainees. the group gathers around an air hockey table for some time before one of the trainees triumphantly throws his fists up into the air when he beats his friend, 5-4. at first it’s an organized, cohesive group one moment, and the next, slowly tapers off in different directions to play their own games in pairs or smaller groups. he tries to make it look like a casual thing, discreetly making his way next to eunju, half of her bare face saturated in neon lighting. 

“so — what do you want to play?” it’s short and formal, but the connotation holds more than just its meaning at face value. nobody seems to be in direct earshot of their conversation, and despite how normal everything probably seems from the outside looking in, there’s no saying who around them might really be listening. 

there’s a dance dance revolution machine tucked far in the corner, to his own slight disbelief, untouched by any patrons. he gestures to it, already knows that she loves the game down to her favorite song that they’ve spoken about before, knows her answer even before he asks in order to keep up their facade. his eyes try not to sparkle too brightly when he looks her in the eye. it’s not even really so much a question, rather, a suggestion to get away from everybody else. “how about dance dance revolution?” 

[idjunho]

+ detail your parent’s initial and current thoughts on your career choice

to put it simply: his parents never, do not, and will never agree to junho’s choices.

perhaps their dreams and ambitions for their only son were too grandoise. they had gotten far too caught up in their own personal visions of him for the future, wearing a stethescope or making it to the best law school abroad for his graduate studies. junho was their planned success that his parents wish they could’ve had for themselves, a shimmer of hope going forward into the new century, the new millenium. he would be everything they asked him to be and more, would be raised an obedient, proper and intelligent young man. they would invest all the money they could into his studies, his after school programs, his study abroad — anything. 

but none of their hopes ever came to fruitition. they never would.

he’s an okay student. it’s not that he’s not smart, becuse he actually is quite intelligent, but he’s not motivated by school. junho doesn’t think long term about his education, about how the nights he doesn’t study will catch up to him later on when he winds up being the lowest in his class because he won’t be able to pass his exams. even when he does bomb, it never worries him, which in turn worries his parents even more: is there something wrong with their child? what about their dreams of having the top student who would go onto seoul national and become a lawyer, doctor, superhuman? what happened to the son they fantasized having for so long?

sending him abroad is their last ditch effort to save junho’s education and their own reputation. there’s nothing worse than junho’s mother on the phone with her own mother, skirting around all of her questions about her grandsons’ progress in school. 

which university is he thinking of attending? you know how competitive the sky schools are — and they keep getting harder to get into every passing year.

the stress gives her painful ulcers, around the same time that she makes the final decision to send him to a place she knows will challenge him, will make him work hard and pull him out of his comfort zone. truthfully, she doesn’t know much about las vegas, much less nevada; all she knows is that the legal age to do almost anything in vegas is a fruitful few years away, and assuming so, thinks an education in the suburbs could be best. he would study well, his english would improve, and he’d have no distractions.

again, another premonition gone wrong.

junho doesn’t call home much when he’s away. his parents assume it’s because he’s studying a lot, mostly because all of his work is in english and he needs all of his spare time to keep up with the workload. really, the boy is out at concerts and sneaking into casinos with his host brothers because that’s just what suburban vegas teenagers do. 

need to say, when junho comes home with grades almost equivalent to his korean grades, his parents aren’t pleased. his height sprouts and he begins to grow the littlest bit of facial hair, but his grades remain frustratingly average. one more year of trying to get him to go to private after school lessons is money thrown away when junho notoriously rebels, skipping all of his classes to practice music with his friends instead. graduating the top of his class was never a priority.

“that’s it,” his father tells him one evening just after he’s turned nineteen. finally, it’s his year to call his own, and junho’s parents don’t hesitate when they give their newly legal son an ultimatum, “you either stay here and you finish your last year of high school, or you’re out. we’re put up with this anymore.”

it’s not a hard decision for junho, but it’s one that truly shocks his parents into disbelief: he leaves.

he packs up a single gym bag of clothes, toiletries and any amount of won he’s got left to buy a ktx ticket from busan to seoul. he carries his guitar in its case to the station on his back and takes the last train of the evening up to the capital. 

from there, he doesn’t call his parents — there’s no point. he stays with a friend in hongdae for two years, spends every waking minute he can playing his guitar and living off convenience store ramen. that shit is going to kill you, his friend tells him daily. junho doesn’t care. he’d seen worse in las vegas. 

even on the day he begins his time at koala.t, junho doesn’t call home. he tries to pretend his home in busan doesn’t exist, like none of it was ever there, like he’d suddenly been reborn at twenty years old with no memories about his past: he’d worked hard to rid his speech of his dialect, his last remainder of his home, for so long; by the time he’d made it to xlnc, nobody suspected he wasn’t a seoul native until prompted about his hometown.

even when he debuts two years later, he doesn’t call. if his parents cared, they would’ve tried to be in touch by now. they were better off without him — junho was never the son they wanted, anyway. debuting in an entertainment company as a guitarist was the last thing junho knew his father would want to see, and he doesn’t suspect that either of them bothered to watch their debut showcase. it’s alright: he’s come to terms with it. 

life was better off in las vegas.

[idjunho]

idsanha‌:

     tilts his head, thinks back. “if you can accomplish something, i mean. no one’s really believed the when, have they?” but he did. sanha did. 

“i’m not bothering,” it takes a lot to get junho riled, but sanha, of course, has learned over the years just the right buttons to push. the smaller male reeks of alcohol clear on his body, his breath, his clothes — it’s gravely unprofessional. he’s pathetic. junho can’t help but smile too.

to think that years after leaving busan they’d wind up in a luxurious hotel in los angeles with luxury brands on their bodies; how they’d worked their ways from the empty back streets of busan to here, now moments away from whoever would throw the first punch — it says a lot about the both of them, how they’d truly never be entirely liberated from the roots from which they’d both came. their fights always resorted in some sort of petty roughhousing that would lead to one getting a black eye or a bloody nose. in busan, it was out of childhood immaturity, forgotten the next day on their bike rides to the cliffsides. now, it was unresolved tensions, built upon years of jealousy, arrogance and reality’s sweet poison that is swallowed when reality hits right after the teenage years are over.

sanha has never backed down, not when he was was the taller one, not when he was the one on the ground. truthfully it pissed junho off how the boy could always manage to get back on his feet and find the drive to fight some more. he could just never let him win an argument: it was always about him, always hyung first.

an audible huff escapes his lips at sanha’s personal digs. he rolls his eyes, visibly bothered by the male’s lack of ammunition. the amount of physical power he wields over him already keeps his confidence high. “when i’ve accomplished something with my life,” he’s chuckling now, raising his hand to pry off sanha’s tiny fingers from his chest to properly shove them back against his own chest where they belong. “— says the hyung whose sole purpose is to cover for his sunbaes,” he places a hard emphasis on the word as he’s shoved harder a second time; his face hardens, and something in him visibly snaps when sanha jabs just hard enough. his eyes go dark from the anger penting up inside his chest, ready to explode. 

it’s swift, but suddenly junho’s got sanha by the fistful of the front of his button up, makes sure to grab it tight to hold him firmly by the neck and just high enough to pull him to his tippy toes. finally, they meet eye to eye. “at least my band can stand on its own two fucking feet,” he spits his words in sanha’s face like venom, a tone so defiling and hateful set only for him. he tilts his head, eyebrows raising in mock curiosity, “how about you though, hyung? how’s it feel to be your company’s little jackass who only need you for dusting all of their baggage under the rug?”

— tipping point

[idjunho]

[idjunho]

idseojin‌:

“That’s just fantastic.” Sarcasm laced a false tone of enthusiasm. He draped the headphones around his neck and shut his music off, craning his neck to glancr over at Junho. It was difficult ( and worthless ) to hide the disdain dripping from his words. His expression, however, showed a hint of a smirk. “Did you hear that? We get to cover a song from Ed Sheeran, himself. Think we’ll do it justice?”

the question of which direction their band would go in, whether it would linger in its realm of mainstream pop and rock, was constantly being tossed around. one day the company wants them to sound like every other group out there, the next and they’re being told to play like they’re acdc. the fickleness of what koala.t wants from xlnc is frustrating and only makes the fan criticisms of their strange medium harder to address. 

junho, quick as he always is to jump onto something first, immediately prepares himself to refuse. ed sheeran is in an entirely different genre than their group — junho’s sure his members don’t even listen to him. there’s no sense in covering a song from an artist that their group has no ties to musically, whether or not it’s for enjoyment or for the hype of covering an english song solely targeted to their international fans. there’s no doubt he cherishes the international xl-ents for being such a supportive fandom, but a song over a year old that he knows is still only popular in korea? what about the entire selection of every other american rock song the group could do such a better job at covering instead?

“yeah, i heard it,” he wants to roll his eyes, but their manager is currently in the passenger seat, turned to face the rest of the group. it’s been over a year and they’re still being crammed into the same mini van they’d ridden in to their first live performance. it makes him a little claustrophobic, especially right now. he can tell by seojin’s tone that the other male isn’t feeling it, either. then again, he was just passed out the entire carride. 

junho looks at him with a look that tells him there’s no way they’re getting out of this. it’s always been this way: whatever the company wants, the company gets. the boys do have their creative freedom at times, but it’s not enough to argue against things like this. the emerging smirk on seojin face triggers a mirrored smile on junho as he watches him, their bodies gently shifting from the movement of the van over uneven pavement. a light punch elicits a quiet chuckle from the guitarist, “what’s so funny?”

╰ something better.

[idjunho]

ideunju‌:

still, eunju grins, playful but flattered. “you must really like me, huh?”

he likes to make her squirm, get her all embarrassed until her face is as red as it is now. “so you admit you missed me too,” junho teases, plucks at any opportunity he can to get eunju to admit what they both already know. they’re already past the point of clarifying the mutual feelings between each other, but he still likes it when she tucks her hair behind her ears when she’s acting shy. her nonchalance tugs his lips into a wide smile that finds its way to meet her lips in a gentle kiss.

there’s something ironic about how maybe she’s starting to become the priority on his plate.

“you’d be surprised,” he says. it’s sad for him to admit, but the truth still stands about his band’s’ lenient schedules; it’s given him too much time to think about her, their potential to be, well — something. he likes the idea, but at the same time, it worries him to think about how much they both would be jeopardizing by stepping into such uncharted territory. one mishap and it could be the end for both of them.

there’s nothing he wants more than to support whatever she wants to do, but the fundamentals of their relationship go against those rules — you can’t have both. but was junho going to be a greedy bastard and try to keep both his career and the girl he’s fallen so hard for all to himself? absolutely.

“of course i watch,” his tone is a-matter-of-fact, fake offense at the idea that he wouldn’t watch her show, “i vote for you every week.” it’s become his own weekly ritual, no matter how small an impact, to make sure she makes it as far as possible in the show. he sees potential in eunju making it far, maybe even to first place. articles about her say nothing but good things — he couldn’t disagree with them. “a video or two, you sure it wasn’t a few dozen more than that?” he teases again, this time growing a little more playful as he swoops down to bombard her face and neck with butterfly kisses, nuzzling his nose to the line of her jaw to pepper some more behind her ear. “your bullet, bullet, bullet,” he hums gently into her ear, “i’ll take it anytime,” he kisses her again, and again, and again.

junho only lets her question linger for awhile just to keep her hanging. “i do like you a lot.” he confirms, his hands find their way to the straps of her dress, fingers ghosting down the slope of her shoulders to slide them down. he pauses to look at her for a moment, his words suddenly feeling heavy but all so true. he thinks back to their first rendevous together, a night concentrated on only getting each other off, far too lust driven to really label it as ‘romantic’.

but the light in which fell over eunju’s face now, dimmer than last time, a better cover up for how shy she actually was set the mood to something different, something that confirmed any lingering counter thoughts about what he felt before.

party favors,

[idjunho]

idshizuku‌:

“  You’re awful at this. Have you never seen a girl cry?  ” When Shizuku doesn’t hear the door close, her embarrassment turns into anger. “ You have two options, either leave or come in. Either way, close the door, I’d rather not let anyone else see me like this.  ” She angrily wipes at her cheeks and grows more frustrated when she sees traces of her makeup against the back of her hand. Shizuku has always done her best with what life has given her, in order to do so she would keep her emotions under a tight lock and key. Nevertheless, there were days that Shizuku cannot clearly see the path in front of her and unexpectedly today was one of those days. Rehearsals had been awful, not because she made a mistake, but because she couldn’t keep her emotions in check. She didn’t think that performing on stage for the first time would inspire the same anticipation and anxiety to grow within her the same way her first competition had. After recognizing what the surge of emotions meant, Shizuku had started to panic. She immediately rushed into the nearest empty room before squatting down and pressing her forehead against her knees. She knew that these moments of happiness and anticipation only lead to ruin.

Shizuku’s head is filled with a constant stream of questions that never seem to rest. The most prominent of these questions would be ‘what am I doing?’ She knows she sounded rude, but she’s too embarrassed to apologize for her tone of voice. The last time Shizuku had experienced this predicament, she had promised that she would never feel this conflicted again. Isn’t sixteen is a little too young to have your dreams crushed? Back then, she had still believed that she would always be part of the dancesport community. She had believed that with determination and a good hip surgery she would still be a dancesport competitor until she reached the age of seventy. Shizuku cries even harder at how unbelievably naive and hopeful she had been.

At that time, she had even made her partner, Kazuya promise that they would stop at nothing to become world champions. Sadly, they hadn’t expected Kazuya to get injured, nor for the injury to reoccur again and again. When Kazuya retired from the competitive scene,  a small part of her had felt guilty. Guilty, for she knew how hard it was for her partner to give up the one thing made him feel alive. Guilty, for she would rather see Kazuya walk without the aid of his cane than to see him dance again. She still carries that guilt with her even now, sometimes she would use it as motivation when training gets hard. Initially, Shizuku didn’t think that the end of her competitive career would come a year after Kazuya’s did. It’s very common for dancers to change partners all the time. In spite of this, Shizuku hadn’t prepared herself for the changes. Shizuku had to find out the hard way that not every leader had his familiarity, steadiness, and consideration. It became difficult to compete when her partnerships wouldn’t last for more than a few months. Ten years of pain and hard work had gone to waste. On the day she announced her retirement to coaches and colleagues, she had felt so unbearably small. “  I’m so stupid, so so stupid. A stupid, hopeful fool that never learns.  ” After all this time, she thought, how can I be back to where I started?

the question she asks resonates with him, sinks into his skin all while his feet remain placent where he’d fallen stiff. he’d definitely seen his mother cry many times, himself always the culprit, the source for her disappointment when she’d finally realized her son would never live up to her expectations. crying girls, no matter whom, always pull at his heartstrings — he knows she isn’t bluffing, but if she was, junho wouldn’t even mind — because there’s always been that soft spot in his heart that could never deny a woman in distress. maybe it’s his desire to please. 

there’s nothing but the sound of her sniffling and mumbled words to herself that fill the room when he closes the door behind him. everything feels empty around them, nothing but the sound of her to keep the room alive. there’s a lot to be asked about the situation, like the blatant why are you sitting in a room crying alone or do you need a tissue? — his mouth opens to begin asking the latter, but he’s stopped short when she begins to talk again. her words are foreign, incoherent to his ears. “hey, it’s alright,” he says after another look over his shoulder at the door to make sure it’s actually closed. squatting before her, junho gets a better look at her face; reddened, cheeks still wet from her amount of sobbing that’s slightly melted her eye makeup down the curve of her cheekbones. she’s tense, but he doesn’t blame her for her bluntness from before. 

even though it’s been some time since he’s debuted himself, the initial moments before stepping on stage still, to this day, are daunting. he’d been the same knot of stress days leading up to his own debut — he could definitely not just see, but feel her pain. “i don’t know how many people actually tell you this, but i promise — you’re going to be fine. everything will be fine.” he puts one knee down on the ground to crouch before her, not wanting to make anything too awkward. junho looks away for a moment to think back to his own experiences, words of wisdom to conjure for her that he wishes people could’ve told him, “the second you’re up there, you’re going to feel a lot better, i swear.” he shifts his gaze back to her, tongue in his cheek as he ponders. “expectations are always the worse, i know how it feels. but i swear, you’ll feel so much better if you do it than if you don’t.”

BLING,