#the expression? not one artist/group/band has it all I promise you

[linoguy]

kpop is silly, being into kpop is silly 🤎 hope we all understand this

[bagopucks]

A group of Michigan Brothers and their tall friend

🤝

A group of Michigan Brothers and their tall friend

From one hyper fixation to the next. If you wanna know where I’ve been, it’s with my music.

If there’s one thing I’ve loved all my life, it’s been music. It has been so long since I’ve genuinely invested myself in a band I felt meaningful or enjoyable. Modern music is not my favorite thing. Not that there is anything wrong with it, but I just don’t enjoy the vast majority. This however, I can get behind. Nothing beats modern rock that sounds like it was pulled from the 70’s. I’ve always been envious of older decades that had such beautiful music, and I can’t even express how wonderful and fulfilling life has felt with the one thing I’ve wished for since I was old enough to listen to and comprehend music. I can’t explain it in a way to make anybody understand, but this music, this fashion, this time feels almost.. like a reality in a way. Like it’s actually within my grasp. It’s something I’ve always loved but I never had the privilege of loving in the present time. Now I do, and the love I used to hold for music has returned at such an overwhelming pace that life feels so full again.

Nothing touches my soul deeper than a beautiful voice and meaningful lyrics. Something poetic and fun. I’ve been an artist since as long as I can remember. I feel incomplete if I don’t have good music to listen to, or a muse for drawing and physical art. Music is beautiful in an indescribable way.

Due to the transition period I’ve started, from high school to college, and a lot of change, my OCD and depression has been spiking on and off like a switch. I’ve been pretty busy these past few weeks, seeing as everybody at work simply decided to quit, so my hours are through the roof. I’d like to take a break to focus on my art and my future for a month or so. Possibly until the new season opens. I’m not saying a permanent goodbye, I promise I’ll be back. I just need some time for myself, and I’d love to explore my other interests some more while I have this past summer as a ‘kid’.

Always feel free to check in, submit thoughts, questions, just talk if you want to talk. I’ll still be on tumblr, just not writing. Though I’ve kept my accounts separate, with this break, I’d like to extend the opportunity for anybody to follow @teddydrawshockey (my first account) if they’d like. I’ll probably continue to post art there from time to time. Requests for art, drawings, anything of that nature is always welcome on that account as well.

I want to give a sincere thank you to all of those who have followed and remained consistent through the few months I have done this! It has been so much fun, and I can’t wait to return to writing soon. The support, interaction, and love for my work was what kept me going. This account was initially created so I could get some of my own ideas down on paper. Then interaction came in, and I decided to make something out of it. I thank all 800+ of you who have followed for the ride. And the ones who popped in every once and a while to check out my works and spam my account. I am eternally grateful, and I do hope you all stick around for my return.

I promise this is not the end, I’ll be back

-Ella

[cuetzpalin1234]

Chicano report back on the Puro Pinche Palestina! Show and Night Market

It was a very cold Saturday evening January 20th, 2024. My partner and I arrived at the event about an hour or 2 after it started. We thought when we showed up it would be over. When we got closer to the location, it looked like a full house with cars lined up on both sides of the road. So, as we tried to find a space to park, we finally entered the event, and it was still very active. The 6pm show and night market was organized by Red Star and Bimbos for Liberation in coordination with Tandem, located at 310 Riverside Dr. San Anto, Tx.  The purpose of the event was to benefit San Antonio for Justice in Palestine. There was a very diverse crowd in the lot outside socializing and walking around looking at the 25+ vendors and local artists that were out there in solidarity and calling for a ceasefire.

There were several groups huddled around the different log fires they had set up for the cold winter evening. There was also food for sale by Saha, Gorda Bakes, Angel Numb, El Puño y La Mano, WRLD 8, and Slumber Party World created by Callie. You could also hear music coming from the DJ and live bands such as Vintage Pictures, Sacred Games, Optic Arrest, Bitter Critter, Powdered Wig Machine, and RoshII. We got a chance to check out the inside for some food and water. They also sell coffee, beer, and wine. It was comfortable. They had tables, chairs, and couches. They also had picnic tables outside as well. After attending the event it really motivated me to continue to organize. I promised myself I would try to be around more justice seeking people interested in making a positive impact in the world. So, this event was very uplifting because lately I had been feeling isolated. There were some myths or lies that I believe were challenged at the event: 1: No one in San Antonio cares about what is happening in Palestine. Clearly, there were many folks out there in support of the Palestinian people. 2: Chicanos and Africans have no connection to Palestinians.

Statement in solidarity with Palestine!

"So similar are the struggles of Palestinians and Chicanos that in 1980 El Partido Nacional de La Raza Unida sent a delegation to a historic meeting with Palestinian Liberation Organization founder Yasser Arafat. The meeting took place in Lebanon as it was impossible to enter Palestine at that moment. We must recall this meeting and the continued solidarity PNLRU has expressed to our sister and brothers of Palestine who despite facing the advance US funded weaponry and military might of the Zionist occupation nothing can break the iron will and national pride of the Palestinian people, and we see this in the relentless pride Palestinians express from the youngest child to the elderly they all know without a doubt that first and foremost they are Palestinian!

This is an example we cannot ignore here in Aztlan in the “Belly of the Beast” our national unity is challenged relentlessly with so many labels placed on us by this colonizer. The struggles of Palestine and Aztlan are deeply connected in fact the US imposed colonial border separating Aztlan and Mexico has Israeli contractors written all over it. Companies like Elbit, NICE, and Verint Systems have entrenched themselves within the border enforcement industry, which carries significant implications for La Raza. The introduction of drones, surveillance cameras, and sensor systems further militarizes La Frontera Falsa. PNLRU demands a thorough and critical evaluation of the involvement of Israeli security companies in US Mexico border security. This collaboration raises valid concerns about the continued militarization of our border and the potential infringement on human rights. Our stance on this issue doubles down on our support for the Palestinian people’s struggle for self-determination. Both struggles, for Chicano liberation and Palestinian liberation, deserve recognition and steadfast advocacy in the shared fight against oppression and imperialism."

“We felt we both had the same fight. They learned about our struggle that Chicanos were being thrown out of their homeland. So, they invited us on a fact finding mission so we could come back and tell the world that there are two sides to every story.” Rebecca Hill PNLRU-NM

There has been a lot of bad information being spread so it is hard to understand what is happening if you are just following the capitalist media and/or social media and relying on those sources to understand the root/s of the problem/s. Work collectively and do your research. Check out the following:

USA Foriegn Policy/Imperialism 

La Raza Unida takes these positions against the Imperialism of the United States of America. 

La Raza Unida believes in the self-determination of all people. 

La Raza Unida believes in peaceful coexistence. 

Indigenous peoples and developing nations must be self-sufficient and not exploited or manipulated. 

La Raza Unida believes in international worker solidarity, which Imperialism prevents through competition between countries. 

La Raza Unida stands for social change. Imperialism creates dictatorships that repress dissent, social change and self-determination. 

USA Occupation Forces International and Domestic (Militant/Police/ICE) 

La Raza Unida recognizes the US Military and its police forces as the armed wing of the settler colonizer. We stand in solidarity with all liberation struggles. 

The USA armed forces are designed to keep our people terrorized, exploited and controlled. 

The USA armed forces take advantage of the dire economic realities of our people with false promises. 

USA Veterans experience trauma and betrayal. La Raza Unida supports them in their healing. Their experience can be an asset to the true liberation of our people. 

Technology used abroad by the USA military today will be used against Raza tomorrow. 

La Raza Unida supports the right for our own people to develop a force to “serve, observe and protect” ourselves.

 La Frontera Falsa 

La Raza Unida does not recognize the “USA/Mexico” border as legitimate. It was imposed by military invasion and held by occupational forces. Therefore: 

No Human being is illegal. 

La Raza Unida opposes any militarization of la frontera falsa. 

USA immigration policy is designed to enrich the elite through the suffering of Raza and as a weapon against the Chicano people. 

The construction or expansion of any physical barrier at la frontera falsa must be opposed. 

We oppose the separation of families and the caging of children. 

Our Raza, whether Mexicano or CentroAmericano, must be allowed to migrate on their own continent in search of a better life for themselves and their children. 

As social workers we also have principles and values we must practice. We must value social, economic, and political justice and never compromise our principle of challenging injustice. Join an organization working for justice today!

[borahae-777]

The Truth Untold -- Chapter 25: I Wanted To Become Your Comfort And Move Your Heart

Pairing: Taehyung x Jungkook, Yoongi x Jimin

Word Count: Fic in progress, 230k so far. 3k-5k per chapter

Chapter Summary:

Yoongi is lying on the floor of his studio staring at the ceiling. He hasn’t been able to sit still all day, he knows Namjoon had his meeting with Bang this morning. He came right to the building when he woke up, leaving Jimin asleep in his bed. He’d felt the younger man crawl in with him in the middle of the night and tuck his face against his neck, leaving wet tear tracks against his skin. He should have told him that he was awake, but he couldn’t find the words and simply stayed still until they both drifted off.

Warnings: Eventual Smut, BDSM, 18+, MxM

Namjoon is back in a BigHit conference room with Bang, Dae-Hyun, and Bon-Hwa. Now that everything has come to a head, they all have a lot to discuss. The public response has been completely different than expected. The backlash has been worse than he imagined it would be, but there is a huge wave of support and love from ARMY. Comment sections are full of fights between those who have turned against the group and those who have rallied around them.

“Alright everyone, thank you for coming into the office to talk. Dae-Hyun and I met yesterday and we now know what company has come after the band. The CEO and his executives over at SM cooked up this plan to try and push us out of the way so that their artists could shine. Luckily, judging by the success of Fake Love, this new album is going to explode right in their faces. Namjoon, how are you feeling?”

“I’m not sure, to be honest. There’s a mix of emotions that seem to fight for purchase. I’m relieved that we have answers and that the plan was a success. I’m hurt at the response to the story and worried about how many people we may have alienated. I’m touched at the response from a lot of international ARMYs and some of the ones close to home. Bon-Hwa, are you okay?”

“More than okay, Namjoon-ah. Don’t worry about me. This whole thing has given me a sense of purpose I wasn’t expecting.”

“Glad to hear it. I suppose it’s time to release the debunking evidence, PD-nim?”

“Not quite yet, but soon. I want Dae-Hyun in their good graces for a little longer while I secure everything we need to sue Dispatch and hopefully put the executives over at SM behind bars for blackmail. Are you willing to hold out a little longer, Dae-Hyun?”

“As long as you all need me to. I’m grateful for the chance to fix my mistakes and for the help you’ve provided for my mother. She’s responding well to treatment and I’ll never be able to express how thankful I am.”

“Good. The company holds no ill will against you, you’ve more than paid your dues. Your job here is secure and you have a clean slate. Namjoon, how are the guys doing?”

“They’re mostly worried about me and having trouble keeping themselves out of the comment sections. I think they’re putting themselves in my shoes and imagining how people would react if it was them who went public.”

“Try and reassure them. We will protect Taehyung and Jungkook in every possible way. Keep working hard and keep your head down for now. I need a week or so to get everything together and then we’ll make a statement to the press and clear your name. Not everyone will believe your innocence, are you prepared for that?”

“I’d rather not think of it as innocence, sir. There’s nothing inherently guilty about the scandal. My family knows that it isn’t true, so does Bon-Hwa’s. They’re supporting each other through it. That’s all that matters.”

“Alright gentlemen. Dismissed.”

The three men stand up and bow to the CEO before exiting the room. Namjoon hugs Bon-Hwa and promises to give him a call when he has any news, sending his friend home. Dae-Hyun hangs back and awkwardly looks at Namjoon, trying to say something but failing. Namjoon gives him a warm smile and tries to reassure him.

“Dae-Hyun, if there’s something you want to talk about you can. Don’t worry, I won’t bite.”

“I guess I was wondering if you think that the guys would talk with me again. I’ve been wanting to reach out to the maknaes in particular to try and see if we can renew the bonds we were making, but I know I don’t deserve another chance. I won’t forgive myself if I don’t at least try.”

“I wouldn’t say you don’t deserve it. You made a very grave error, a bigger one than some people can forgive, but we are a more forgiving group of people than you think. You didn’t just show remorse, you worked hard and put your life on the line to make it up to us. Let me talk to everyone and I’ll give you a call. Is there anything specific you want me to say?”

“No, I trust you to present it well. Maybe just ask Jimin if he’d be comfortable reaching out individually? I owe him more apologies than anyone, but only if Yoongi-hyung is comfortable with us speaking. I respect him too much to bypass him.”

“I’ll talk to everyone tonight. Go be with your mother, she needs you right now. I hope she knows what an amazing son she has and what he has risked for her.”

Dae-Hyun’s eyes grow misty and he launches himself at Namjoon before pulling away and hurrying down the hallway with his head down. Namjoon can’t help but smile at his retreating back, he expected to feel cold towards the man, but he finds himself thinking that he still is a good person at heart. Everyone makes mistakes and he deserves a second chance. He pulls out his phone to send a group text about a family meeting and turns in the opposite direction to go to his studio. He needs to be alone to process what’s going to happen next.

********

Yoongi is lying on the floor of his studio staring at the ceiling. He hasn’t been able to sit still all day, he knows Namjoon had his meeting with Bang this morning. He came right to the building when he woke up, leaving Jimin asleep in his bed. He’d felt the younger man crawl in with him in the middle of the night and tuck his face against his neck, leaving wet tear tracks against his skin. He should have told him that he was awake, but he couldn’t find the words and simply stayed still until they both drifted off.

Since he got here this morning, he’d tried to mix songs and failed. He’d tried to nap and failed. He’d tried to read, tried to write, tried to play games. That’s how he found himself on his back on the floor, lost in his thoughts. His goal for today is to not return to any of the comment sections about Namjoon and Bon-Hwa. Once he starts reading he finds himself lost down the rabbit hole for hours. It’s not all bad, there are countless ARMYs standing up for the couple.

On the other hand, there are comments from ARMYs who claim to have been fans from the start who are now leaving them behind. The media is slandering Namjoon left and right and by extension, the rest of them. People are questioning whether the popular ships are real, whether Namjin was ever true and if Namjoon has left Jin behind. Whether Yoonmin is more than just speculation. Most of the questions are about Taekook, Yoongi has watched some of their ship videos and even he has to admit that the two are the least subtle. He worries for them, and considers telling him to back off for a while until the heat around Namjoon dies down. He has no idea how long the company is going to wait to take legal action and debunk the story.

He is about to sit up and see if he can choke down some food when he hears a soft knock on his door. His stomach drops a little, thinking it might be Jimin coming to confront him about their relationship. He feels guilty, knows what he’s doing isn’t right, but he just can’t handle that kind of emotional labor right now. He ignores the knock and it grows stronger as he hears a voice that isn’t Jimin’s calling his name through the door.

“Yoongi-hyung, I know you’re in there. Please open the door.”

He stands up and hurries to the door, feeling bad that he ignored it in the first place. His shaking hands fumble with the lock, proof that he needs to eat something before his body gives out on him. He opens the door to Jungkook looking nervous and ushers him in.

“Hey Kook-ah. Is everything okay? You look unsettled.”

“I was hoping I could talk to you about something, but now that I’m here I’m a little bit hesitant.”

“You can talk to me about anything, Jungkookie. I know it’s been awhile since we’ve done this, but our lives have been kind of crazy, hm?”

“I guess I was worried that our bond wouldn’t be as strong anymore or that you’d be upset with me for kind of leaning towards Jimin when everything went bad. Taehyung came to you and Jimin needed someone.”

“I would never hold that against you. It’s not taking sides. Jimin needed help and I’m glad you took care of him when I couldn’t. I promise I did the same for Taehyung in your absence.”

“I know, hyung. I’ve heard a lot about the connection you built with each other and it makes me happy. Thank you for helping him.”

“No need to thank me. Now what’s up? Come sit with me on the couch, don’t be nervous.”

He grabs Jungkook by the hand and can tell the maknae is shocked at the physical contact. He’s not one to be touchy, but he wants to put him at ease and could kind of use the grounding touch himself. He walks them over to the couch where they sit facing each other, Jungkook hesitantly lacing their fingers together and leaving them together. It feels nice and for once Yoongi doesn’t feel the urge to pull away.

“Hyung…please tell me what’s going on with you. We can all tell you’re not okay. You might think you’re being subtle, but you’re not.”

“W-what? Are you all sitting around talking about me?”

“No, no. It’s not like we’ve had some sort of meeting behind your back, but sometimes you’ll say something or a look will cross your face and everyone’s eyes will meet. We acknowledge it. Tae has told me that he’s worried though and he’s a little hurt that you haven’t gone to him. Jimin hasn’t talked to either of us, but we can see the life draining out of him. He’s becoming a ghost and we assume you had a big fight.”

“We didn’t have a fight.”

“That’s all you can say to me right now? You can’t rot away in this studio by yourself. You don’t have to tell everyone, but talk to someone. Talk to me.”

���Aish, Kook. I’m your hyung and you’re the maknae, I’m not supposed to lean on you.”

“Screw age ranks and honorifics. I’m your friend and brother first.”

“I don’t know how to explain. Something in me is wrong. I don’t feel anything anymore. I’m dead inside and out. I’ve gone through something similar before, before we debuted. It was before most of the group was even cast. It was just me, Joon, and Hobi. I handled it alone then and I can handle it alone now. It just takes time.”

“The difference between then and now is that now you don’t have to do it alone. We’re your family, back then all you had was strangers in a strange city. What do you mean you don’t feel anything?”

“Everything is muted. Colors aren’t as bright, the sun isn’t as warm. I’m not hungry, I’m not motivated, I can’t bring myself to be affectionate with Jimin, I don’t even feel excited about the album release.”

“I’ll be honest with you because you’ve been honest with me, that scares me a bit. If your emotions were just on hiatus for a while, I could wrap my head around that, but you’re not even able to care about your music? You’ve worked harder on the Love Yourself albums than anyone.”

“I know. I love the songs, I do. Somewhere deep down I know I’m excited to see the world respond to what we’ve created, especially The Truth Untold and Serendipity. I just can’t bring it to the surface.”

Jungkook doesn’t say anything for a long while, staring at their joined hands and stroking the back of Yoongi’s softly. His brow is furrowed, thinking hard. Yoongi has to admit he does feel a little bit lighter having gotten some of it off his chest. He knows he can’t confide in Jungkook about the commenter and the backlash against Namjoon, he doesn’t want to turn the younger’s attention to that hatred.

“Hyung, would you consider talking to us about all of this at the family meeting tonight? You don’t have to and I won’t say a word to anyone if that’s what you want. I just think it would help you and everyone else to have it out in the open. No one will force anything on you, they just want to know what’s in your head.”

“You’re welcome to talk to Taehyung about this if you’d like to, tell him my door is open and I didn’t mean to hurt his feelings with my silence. I just need to know neither of you will go to Jimin. I know it’ll be hard, but I’m not ready to talk to him yet.”

“Alright, hyung. We won’t. What about the meeting?”

“I’ll think about it, Jungkook. I’m tired. I think the meeting is going to be about much more important things.”

********

“He wants me to do what?!”

“Hear him out, Jimin-ah. I think you’ll regret it if you don’t.”

Jimin is staring at Namjoon agape. The leader had come back at lunchtime and knocked on Jimin’s door, asking to talk. He explained that the meeting tonight was going to be about the scandal and about Dae-Hyun, but wanted to discuss it with Jimin first. That’s when he dropped the bombshell of the jerk wanting to talk to him directly as well.

“Namjoon-hyung, how can he think I’d want to talk to him?”

“Jimin, he was a desperate man backed into a corner. He’s done far more than he needed to in order to fix this for us. You have no idea the sacrifices he’s made. By coming clean to us he risked his mother’s cancer treatment! You cared about him once and I know that a part of you still does. You’re the kindest and most forgiving person I’ve ever met. Think about it.”

“Aish, how am I supposed to say no when you compliment me like that?”

Namjoon chuckles and wraps an arm around his shoulders, winking before walking out the door. Jimin sits on his bed and thinks about his hyung’s words. He makes some good points and he can’t pretend he doesn’t understand to an extent. What would he have done if he was in Dae-Hyun’s shoes? He’d like to think he wouldn’t have made the same choices, but he can’t say that for sure. He thinks about his mother and feels such a rush of love that he finds himself picking up his phone. He unblocks the contact and hits the call button, listening to the ring.

“Jimin-ssi?”

“Hi.”

“I wasn’t expecting to hear from you. I assume Namjoon somehow already made it to you?”

“He did. Is there something you wanted to say to me?”

“I don’t know where to begin. I’m deeply sorry for everything I’ve done. Not just to the group, but to you specifically. I should have never kissed you without your consent, I disrespected you and I disrespected Yoongi-hyung. I don’t expect you to ever forgive me for that or for my role in what happened to Taehyung and Jungkook. I just wanted the chance to say that to you directly.”

“I’m not sure if I can ever forgive you, but I think at the meeting tonight the group will agree to hear you out. What Namjoon is doing for us has inspired everyone to be a little more selfless like him. If everyone else is willing to give you a second chance, I think I could too. It’ll depend on how the conversation goes. Namjoon hasn’t told us the extent of what your role in his plan was, but I have a feeling it runs deeper than we think.”

“I understand completely. Thank you for listening, Jimin-ssi. I should have never taken your friendship for granted.”

“No, you shouldn’t have. Have a good rest of your day, Dae-Hyun.”

Jimin hangs up the phone and flops backwards onto his bed, staring at the ceiling. He does miss their friendship, he hadn’t connected with someone outside of the group like that in a long time. His nature makes him want to put it all behind them, but he needs to be sure first. Trust isn’t rebuilt overnight. He knows he should get up and go find Hobi in the studio to practice, but curls himself under his covers instead. He skips lunch and dinner, laying in the dark until it’s time for the meeting.

********

Taehyung is the first to arrive in the living room, sitting on the couch and fidgeting while he waits. These meetings have become a source of anxiety for him, nothing good has come out of them in almost a year. It really hits him that they’re closing in on a year since Jungkook first kissed him at Home Party. He wishes that they could celebrate it together like an anniversary, but it brought nothing but chaos to everyone. He can’t even remember the date that he and Jungkook came back together, everything has been lost in the shuffle.

He’s worried about Jimin more than anything. He poked his head into his room earlier to offer him meals, but both times he was unresponsive. He’d walked over to the bed and wrapped his arms around the sleeping man, placing a kiss on his temple. Nothing is okay with Jimin. Not their soulmate bond, not his relationship with Yoongi, not his eating habits. Taehyung doesn’t want a repeat of debut-era Jimin where his mental health collapsed and he refused food altogether.

On the flip side, he’s worried about Yoongi too. He’s not sure who is feeding off of who, but it’s clear that something to do with each other is part of the problem. They barely even sit together anymore, let alone show any affection. He finds Jimin in his own bed almost every night and he wonders if they’re even speaking. He knows that Yoongi’s brain works a lot like his own and wishes that he could comfort his hyung, but he doesn’t want to pry unless he approaches him directly.

He hears a noise and snaps out of his train of thought, watching Namjoon and Yoongi walk in the front door. They’re not talking to each other, both looking lost in their thoughts when they look up and flash small smiles at Taehyung. Yoongi comes over and sits directly next to him while Namjoon heads down the hall and starts knocking on doors.

“Hey Tae.”

“Hi hyung.”

Yoongi reaches out and laces their fingers together, giving his hand a soft squeeze and looking at him with hopeful eyes. He smiles and squeezes back, looking down at their joined hands in relief. It feels like a small thread of hope. They don’t say anything, they don’t have to. A throat clears behind Taehyung and he sees Jimin standing there, staring at their hands and looking forlorn before sitting in an armchair. He starts to pull away from Yoongi and opens his mouth to say something when he’s interrupted by the rest of the crowd entering the room. He decides he’ll seek Jimin out after and keeps his hand in Yoongi’s. Jungkook sits on his other side, smiling at their display of affection and squeezing the back of his neck.

“Okay, now that we’re all here I want to start by checking in on everyone. How are you all doing with the story breaking? Thoughts? Feelings?”

He looks around the room, meeting all of their eyes one by one. No one seems to want to speak first, seemingly hesitating when addressing the elephant in the room. The silence drags on until Namjoon gets frustrated and speaks again.

“Come on, guys. I know you all have a take on the situation. I’ll start, maybe hearing something from me will help us start. I’m okay, really I am. Some of the responses have been hurtful and scary, I won’t pretend they haven’t. However, I’m impressed and touched by the ARMYs that have stuck by us and started to fight back in our stead. I’ve also heard a little buzz about this boosting us even further in America, you know they have endless LGBT icons there.”

Jimin speaks up softly, as if he’s afraid of the response.

“I’m worried about the attention on us leading to the rest of us being outed somehow.”

“That’s a completely valid fear, Jiminie. We’re going to be under scrutiny for a while, there’s no doubt about that. Even once the story is debunked, there are bound to be people who believe it’s true. We have to be careful about what we show on camera for a little while.”

“No! Hyung, please, we can’t go through that again.”

“Deep breaths, Kook. I don’t mean a separation like before, just a little caution. Tear drops in a few weeks and Answer won’t be far behind. We have an extremely busy comeback season this year. The Billboard Awards, appearances on American talk shows, concerts in several countries, constant promotions. We’re going to be watched closely.”

“Sorry, hyung. I’m just tired of the fear.”

“We all are, but this will all be worth it when we come out the other side. I promise you that. We can get through anything.”

Something is stuck in Taehyung’s head and decides to speak up.

“You said you wanted to start by checking in, Namjoon-hyung. Does that mean that this wasn’t the reason for the meeting?”

“Yes, Tae, I called you here for something else. I was at the office this morning with Bang, Bon-Hwa, and Dae-Hyun. The company is putting the finishing touches on our plans so they can take official legal action against Dispatch and the blackmailers.”

“Does that mean we know who it is that’s behind all of this?”

“We do. It’s SM.”

The room erupts in chatter, Taehyung has a hard time picking out any particular voices, but from what he gathers no one is all that surprised. They’ve all had idol friends who are signed under SM and heard about their shady practices. They bury their internal scandals better than any other company and keep their idols from speaking out about the cruel way they’re treated. He wants more information, though.

“So what happens next?”

“Bang said he needs about a week to get everything in order and then he’ll go to the press with the evidence to debunk the story. Dae-Hyun is going to stay ‘undercover’ just that little while longer to make sure that he can prove that it is indeed SM beyond a shadow of a doubt. Which brings me to the main reason for talking to you as a group instead of talking to you individually, Dae-Hyun was hoping he could sit and talk to you all again. I fully support him and would like you to consider agreeing. Before anyone says anything, can we do a preliminary vote to gauge where we’re all at? Can everyone willing to hear him out please raise a hand?”

Three hands go up: Namjoon, Jin, and Hobi. Taehyung looks at Jungkook, Yoongi, and Jimin next. He knows that they’d be the ones more likely to be hard on the man. Jimin’s eyes are darting back and forth between his hyungs before he nods to himself and also raises his hand. Taehyung’s eyes widen in shock, he didn’t expect Jimin to ever agree to this. If Jimin can be the bigger person here, so can he. He raises his hand as well. He feels Jungkook and Yoongi’s stares, but looks straight ahead at their leader.

“Okay, thank you. I’m glad to see that the majority of us are together on this. Who’d like to make their argument first? Jungkook?”

“Age before beauty, hyung!”

“Aish, you brat. Okay, I have no problem speaking first. I think this is bullshit. What would ever make any of you think this man deserves a chance to speak to us? He could have ruined our lives and in more extreme cases gotten some of us physically hurt. If there’s anyone in the world who doesn't deserve a second chance, it’s Dae-Hyun. Are you forgetting he kissed Jimin?”

“Yoongi-hyung, I understand all of that. No one has forgotten what he’s done to us, but Jimin and Taehyung have found it within themselves to hear him out. Can’t you do the same? Arguably they’ve both been more hurt by him than you have.”

“He’s right, Yoongi-hyung. If Tae and Chim are okay with this, I guess I am too. I’ll vote in favor.”

“Really, Kook-ah? You’re okay with sitting in front of that man and listening to him justify almost blackmailing you?”

“Namjoon-hyung isn’t asking us to forgive him, just to listen. We can do that. You can do that.”

A look passes between Jungkook and Yoongi that seems to have more weight behind it than it should and it leaves Taehyung confused. He makes a mental note to talk to Jungkook after the meeting and see what’s going on. He watches as messages pass between their eyes and Yoongi’s shoulders slump in defeat.

“Fine. If everyone else is sure, then fine. Expect me to rub it in your faces when I’m proven right.”

Namjoon rolls his eyes and starts suggesting dates for Dae-Hyun to come by the dorm. Everyone still seems hesitant and the leader starts to discuss what the other man’s role in the situation has been since he first came clean. Slowly, Taehyung starts to feel more open to the idea that he can forgive. None of them really understood the scope of the situation on the inside, Namjoon has kept a lot of the details close to his chest. He feels a squeeze from Yoongi and looks over to see him leaning into his ear.

“Can we take a walk and chat after?”

Taehyung’s face breaks into a blinding smile and he feels part of his stress lift away. He’s leaned on Yoongi far too much and hasn’t been able to get a word out of the other about his own struggles. Maybe he’s finally coming around. He nods and squeezes back, but catches Jimin staring at them out of the corner of his eye. He frowns to himself and leans over to Jungkook.

“Kookie, Yoongi-hyung wants to talk to me after the meeting, but I’m worried about Jiminie. Can you take him back to your room and check on him? Tell him I’ll be there as soon as I can and the three of us can spend the night together.”

Jungkook smiles at him, pressing a soft kiss to his lips and running a hand along his cheek. He knows Jimin will be in good hands.

********

“Hyung, let’s go back to my room and snuggle.”

“I don’t know, Kookie. I just want to go to sleep.”

“You’ve been sleeping all day, come on!”

Jungkook doesn’t give Jimin a choice, dragging him by the wrist down the hall. He’ll pick him up and carry him if he has to. He knows how low he’s getting and he’s determined to help whether Jimin accepts it or not. They get to his room and he closes the door behind him, nudging the other man onto his bed and tossing a banana at him.

“Eat something. I’m serious. Taehyung is going to be here soon and we’re going to spend the night together, all three of us like old times.”

Jimin begrudgingly tears open the fruit, nibbling a small bite and then placing it in his lap. He does seem to perk up a bit at the idea of a maknae sleepover. Jungkook sits down, his back against the headboard and reaches out a hand.

“Come on, Jiminie. Eat your banana and lay with me. Talk to me.”

“I don’t know what to do, Jungkook. I’m losing him.”

“What’s going on with you two? You’re both barely floating through the day.”

“I have no idea. He just slowly started to drift and now he’s so far away that I can’t even catch a glimpse of him on the horizon. We barely spend any time together. I sneak into his room sometimes when he’s already asleep and curl up there, but he’s always gone when I wake up.”

“You know how Yoongi-hyung is. He’s not the most expressive person and he tends to retreat into himself.”

“I know, but he’s not supposed to be that way with me. I love him more than he can even imagine, I just want to be his safe space. I thought that’s what was happening, he was starting to be vulnerable around me and wear his heart on his sleeve. Then it seemed to become the opposite overnight. I feel like I’ve tried everything to get through to him.”

“Hmm, what if I said I had a plan that could help you get past his walls? It’s not a guarantee, but I think it would reach him at least a little bit.”

“I guess it depends on what it is. I can barely function right now.”

“I know, Jimin-ah, but maybe this will breathe life into you as well. Actually, now that I think about it, I think Dae-Hyun would be the perfect person to help us with this. The timing on this could be absolutely perfect.”

“Dae-Hyun?!”

“Yes, after hearing Namjoon talk about him tonight, I’m more than willing to meet with him, but if he still feels like he owes us a little…this could be the last boost he needs to reach forgiveness. Keep an open mind, okay?”

Jimin sits up and stares at him, waiting. Jungkook launches into the details of his idea and watches understanding dawn on the other man’s face. It’s a bit half-baked, but he’s hoping Jimin will want to fill in the blanks with him. It only just occurred to him when the meeting came to a close, but he thinks it will work. Jimin starts to make small suggestions and Jungkook feels an overwhelming sense of relief.

They need to get started first thing tomorrow morning.

[interabangs]

Nope, N.O, and The Astronaut

It was a one-eyed, one horned, flying purple people eater...

I love Jordan Peele’s Nope and Kim Seokjin’s “The Astronaut.” I think the overall message in The Astronaut mv is a promise from Seokjin, to us fans. He appreciates our support and though he, and the other members, have to go away for a while, they will return. In The Astronaut, Jin’s vocals are comforting, and the lyrics he wrote in his native language are filled with love.

I also think there’s another layer to the mv.

(Spoilers below) 

My theory is the ship in the Astronaut mv is like the alien monster from Jordan Peele’s movie Nope. The alien has a camera for eyes and a mouth. if you look at it, you get sucked up and consumed. It represents the pressure of the entertainment industry, and the demand for constant content. The industry is the alien, some of the audience (mostly antis and solos) is the alien: watching, consuming, and judging.

One of my first thoughts after watching Nope (after coming down from the adrenaline rush due to watching it in a Dolby theater), was that Peele deliberately avoided explanations. It felt like his response to many people who loved Get Out, but criticized Us. I admittedly had a similar reaction, but while I do think the third act was a little confusing, I appreciate what Peele was saying in Us. Anyway, in making Nope very direct, with no answers about where the alien came from, the themes and layers are a lot easier to see.

That isn’t to say the entertainment industry, nor all fans, are inherently evil and dangerous. Without a production company, or fans, then Jordan Peele’s movies, and BTS’s songs or mvs might not have existed at all. But there is an underlying danger in spectacle, and demand for more of it.

Steven Yeun’s Jupe (who is Korean-American) turns the traumatizing event he witnessed as a child actor into entertainment, praising the SNL skit parodying the massacre and acted by a white cast. Jupe wears Western clothes and a cowboy hat, which both resembles the alien and the outfits BTS wore in the Permission to Dance mv. 

Nope helped me fully understand what Namjoon was talking about when he mentioned he had lost sight of what kind of musical group BTS was becoming. This same band of artists that write and perform songs that retain the essence of their souls. They expressed their deeper feelings through their Korean lyrics, their cultural roots, and even their callouts to societal issues like the educational system, and stifling expectations pressuring younger generations to be perfect. 

I personally don’t think BTS had ever forgotten their roots, and I’m not saying Peele made Nope partly to tell BTS to rap and sing in Korean again. But I do see the parallels between Nope’s themes and BTS’s decision to take a break from group music until 2025. I do think Jin was conveying parallels between Nope’s themes and his choice to preserve his soul, to say “Nope” now and then to the camera, while still loving his members and fans.

Jin looked blank throughout most of The Astronaut mv - the exceptions were when he rode in the truck that featured in past BTS mvs (representing the members), and when Jin is with the girl who represents the predominantly female fanbase. Jin’s blank expression and being shunned by other people in the city scenes might represent Jin recounting all the hate comments he had received from non-fans asking when he would enlist.

I think when Jin was going through his burnout in late 2020, it was related to the SK government postponing BTS’s enlistment. Jin never asked to be exempted, nor for an extension. He and the members had always planned to enlist. But Jin got hated on the most, sadly. Jin wisely got counseling to help with his burnout.

This is why I think Jin turning away from the ship refers to Jin finding peace within himself, with the other members, family and friends, and with the fans. When characters like Em and OJ, and artists like Jordan and Seokjin, have the agency to say NOPE or N.O to the industry, that helps them hold onto their s(e)oul.

[thesinglesjukebox]

BRAINFREEZE - "DEBUT"

Michael takes us from IRL to URL with this Chinese internet collective...

[6.27]

Michael Hong: The last few years have been difficult for physical connection in China; it's only logical that groups like the collective Shopping Mood and the four-piece BRAINFREEZE have formed from the Internet. Their debut EP attempts to crib the stylings of what they believe to be "hyperpop," a term that has become a sort of catch-all in the country -- as evidenced by "idol" artist Deng Dian, whose label, Sony Music China, cites hyperpop influences on one of his last projects, despite it being only a bit uptempo. But "Debut" is too clean to completely fall within the lineage of hyperpop. It's pretty girl music, music you put on in the background as you shit-talk and sweet-talk with your friends on a Friday night. BRAINFREEZE points the swirling lyric "trust this dream" at one another as if in promise of connection, whether that's physical or something more, and deepen it with a final tossed-out "baby, please don't feel like you are useless." Over pretty synths, each member is painted golden. Something's endearing about their broken English; they reject outside voices, but the syrupiness of the song makes their middle-finger salutes lack any bite. And they tie themselves together with the promise of jumping off the roof, a sweet sentiment for how it's so non-adventurous. A lot of my favourite songs this year -- María José Llergo's "Tencontrao," Subsonic Eye's "Yearning," Leah Dou's "Monday," Pasocom Music Club & Mei Takahashi's "Day After Day" -- take a circular phrase, verse, melody, or even just a motif and twist it into a spiral. Llergo's "look at me and tell me you love me" on its own is impactful, but it's the repetition, the demand for reassurance, that feels like love. "Day After Day" reframes the circular movement of its undercurrent with one line, "but I realized / those small, boring moments / can also shine / so bright that it melts my heart," as if regarding each passing flicker of the sun and moon with a contented sigh. I get a similar feeling from the hook of "Debut." That pitch-shifted "trust this dream" is woven in a graceful circle, as if in realization that this is not a dream but reality, and also in understanding that there's more beautiful work to come. It's no accident that the music video for "Debut" starts with BRAINFREEZE in a physical embrace. The song is the corporeal manifestation of their digital bond, a helpless spiral into a deeper affection. [9]

Taylor Alatorre: The title of "DEBUT," as well as the "trust this dream" refrain and the synthetic twee motifs, suggest a hopeful yet halting first step in the direction of new encounters. This perhaps explains why its most palpable signs of urgency and its willingness to risk offending the listener are shunted off to the final 30 seconds, by which point an ambivalent first impression has already been made. Never mind the dream for now -- the song doesn't seem to trust itself. [5]

John S. Quinn-Puerta: It's frenetic without being completely overstuffed, stimulating if not a tad bit unintelligible. I think I trust it. Maybe. [6]

Nortey Dowuona: I think it's kinda telling all the lyrics are in English. They think we're a damn lick. They're right. [8]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: Exactly the kind of clumsy single that I'll always be charmed by. All the voices, and all the ideas they're clamoring to express, spill out of "Debut" with such a feverish glee that I can forgive the slight feeling that there's about a minute too much song. It helps that the core vocals-and-synth hook is sturdy enough to withstand the chaos that gradually envelops the track. [7]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: A bit too Spotify Playlist-core for me, but any modishness on display is offset by how easy it all goes down. [6]

Ian Mathers: This is a lot more chill than I expected from a band called BRAINFREEZE: a perverse statement on multiple levels. Not least because I like the floatiest bits the best. [6]

Crystal Leww: BRAINFREEZE's EP is like a sampler through what "hyperpop" has evolved into in the last 24 or so months, in sometimes horrifying ways, but "Debut" gets it right by letting the girls set the tone so that the boys can be soft and pretty, too. I want to bury myself in the chest of the "get away, get away, get away...", which seems to drift off into a tucked-away dimension. By the time that the track snaps into something more harsh in the final section, I'm already in the clouds. [7]

Will Adams: It's got that Porter Robinson vibe: hyperpop swaddled in gauze and delivered with a face-holding-back-tears-emoji smile. "Debut" is pretty to listen to, ephemeral once it ends. [6]

Katherine St Asaph: Finally, hyperpop gets its own Owl City. [4]

Micha Cavaseno: Listening to stuff like this makes me think that PM Dawn were perhaps too many decades too early (and too many levels un-Good) to be able to achieve their dreams. "Debut" is a perfect slight of disposable sugarfeather. I couldn't tell you what any of the vocalists do or try that's worth mentioning, and the production is a nice crochet of nostalgic pastels that isn't strong enough to support the weight of scrutiny. Oh well, perhaps next time! [5]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox ]

[0613magazine]

221202 The Atlantic

RM OF BTS IS EMBRACING THE SILENCE

On his debut solo album, Indigo, the South Korean rapper finds meaning within the noise of global stardom.

One year ago today, the leader of the world’s biggest pop group stood beneath bright lights and told more than 50,000 fans about his fears. Kim Namjoon, better known by his stage name RM, had guided his fellow BTS members through the vagaries of early-pandemic life—a canceled world tour, delayed music releases and life plans, illness. In an emotional speech during a Los Angeles concert last December, the then-27-year-old South Korean rapper confessed that he’d spent that time worrying about the future. What if their fans abandoned them? What if he lost his abilities as a performer? But, RM said, those concerns had melted away. “I promise that … I’ll be even better when I’m 30, 35, or 40,” he declared, to an eruption of cheers.

Some people might find this curious—a 20-something artist agonizing over his longevity. Since BTS debuted in 2013, though, RM has been highly conscious of the mark he’s wanted to leave on the music world. In addition to writing a sizable chunk of BTS’s discography, he’s put out two solo mixtapes—2015’s RM and 2018’s Mono—that define his style: cerebral, technically complex, introspective, defiant, wordplay heavy. His lyrics grapple with the nature of art, identity, fame, and love. As the group’s leader and only fluent English speaker, he is often at the forefront of their public appearances, whether in TV interviews and award shows or at the United Nations and the White House.

So it’s fitting that his first official solo album is a record that looks backwards. Today, RM released Indigo, which he calls “the last archive of my twenties.” The 10-track project is a musically omnivorous, profoundly collaborative effort that still feels like the work of an auteur—one who’s spent years refining his own sound and thematic obsessions. At its core, Indigo is a work of hip-hop, but RM infuses it with neo-soul, folk, R&B, electronic, and rock. So instinctive is RM’s tendency to work with others that eight tracks feature other artists (including Erykah Badu, Anderson .Paak, Kim Sawol, and Tablo). Listening to this album is like witnessing a person carve his name into the top of a mountain as a way of saying not just I was here,but also I’m glad you made it too.

When i spoke with rm on Zoom two weeks ago, he seemed nervous about Indigo’s impending release: “I just hope that time flies more quickly,” he told me. Yet a calm, earth-toned aura emanated from my screen. His hair was a natural deep-brown, and he wore dark-rimmed glasses and a loose-fitting olive shirt. I was reminded that, despite being a pop star, RM is drawn to slower, more contemplative forms of art and engagement. He’s an avid reader (and literary influencer), a nature lover, and a museum goer, all of which comes through clearly on Indigo. For instance, the album opener was inspired by the Korean painter Yun Hyong-keun, and the second track playfully extends the metaphor of a “still life” to talk about stagnation and momentum. For RM, Indigo is a way of “speaking silence”—essentially, expressing himself truthfully in a way that doesn’t cause chaos or confusion.

“As a star, or as a famous boy-band member … it’s really hard to be honest and frank,” he told me. “People sometimes misunderstand you. Like, ‘You said something really insensitive’and ‘I hate you’… Emphasizing silence is really hard, because you have a lot of platforms, like Instagram and Facebook and YouTube; people have their own minds but can still be easily manipulated by algorithms and articles and other people.” In this environment, he said, knowing when to talk and when to remain quiet is even more valuable.

Which explains why he hesitated to say too much about the meaning behind different songs. “These days, I’m thinking that empty space is really important to the audience … to digest the music on their own,” RM said. “So I don’t want to reveal too many intentions.” Because of that, we didn’t talk about why his first words on Indigo are “Fuck the trendsetter”; nor did we dig into his exploration of intimacy on “Closer” and solitude on “Lonely.” But I did ask about the gorgeous lead single, “Wild Flower,” which features the powerhouse vocals of Cho You-jeen, of the rock band Cherry Filter. (“For me, personally, she’s a No. 1 Korean rock star. She’s a legend.”) The song isn’t quite like anything RM has released before; an epic that swirls like a hurricane, it is sincere, pleading, and full of hard-won acceptance. The lyrics set up a memorable contrast between fireworks and what he calls “flowerworks”: The former burn out brilliantly and quickly, whereas flowers can exist humbly and peacefully for much longer.

RM has spent a long time—seven years, to be exact—thinking about this particular metaphor and its intriguing contradictions. He noted that fireworks can draw millions of people who want to witness their beauty for a 30-minute show. (I immediately thought of the displays that concluded many of BTS’s concerts.) The spectacle of “flowerworks,” though, is simpler and more anonymous. “I think of a field with tons of wildflowers that you don’t even know the names of. You just hold the flowers and throw them into the sky, and they come down so suddenly, maybe after five seconds,” he said, an edge of wonder in his voice. “I want to have a life like more of a wildflower.”

In some ways, you could think of his career thus far as a never-ending series of fireworks: several Hot 100 No. 1s, sold-out stadium shows, mammoth album sales, historic firsts, and a slew of both Korean and American music awards. The day before we spoke, BTS received three Grammy nominations: two for their collaboration with Coldplay on the song “My Universe,” and a third for the music video for “Yet to Come,” which RM acknowledged is the group’s first Korean-language track to be nominated. When I asked how he felt about the news, he replied so quietly that I almost didn’t hear: “Never expected it.” He paused, then added, “I think that’s, you know, thanks to Coldplay.” Which sounds like something a wildflower might say.

Like much of rm’s past solo work, Indigo is autobiographical without being too literal. He’s keenly aware that much of his youth has been captured online in countless videos, photos, and social-media posts. That willingness to connect is part of what BTS’s fans, known as ARMY, love about the group. But eventually, RM had an epiphany about all this self-disclosure: “My whole life was an exhibition,” he told me. “Unconsciously, or maybe consciously, I’ve been exhibiting my life for decades. So [I said], Okay, then let’s make it into a real exhibition.” He thinks the songs on Indigo unify different facets of his life over the past few years, as well as his different personas. “When you think of Piet Mondrian’s [work], all the paintings are titled Composition, right?” he said, referring to the Dutch painter’s abstract pieces. “At some point, I just realized [my identity] is a composition of my own … I want this album to be a composition of everything.”

That desire to create cohesion out of many parts is reflected in Indigo’s collaborations. RM said that each featured artist added “frequencies of their own,” and that many were “my stars in my youth” whose music he listened to when he was having a hard time. This album will likely serve the same purpose for many of his own listeners in the coming months. In October, BTS’s label, Big Hit, announced that the members are preparing to step back from their career in order to fulfill their mandatory military service under South Korean law, before hopefully reconvening as a group in 2025. Indigo is expected to be RM’s last full-length record until his enlistment ends, and in many ways, it plays like a farewell-for-now. But it also sounds like an artist taking a deep breath and feeling out what new experiences and insights his career might bring in five, 10, or 15 years. He already knows how it feels to stand beneath explosions of color and light. Now it’s time for falling petals.

Source: The Atlantic

Extra excerpt

Do you see a difference between art and entertainment?

RM thinks these two things are different yet equally important, that he sees himself existing on the border of them and trying to tear down the wall between them.

Source: Lenika Cruz

[clairenatural]

Shy Nerd | Dean

Punk | Castiel

[ the world needs more of this]

college au! this ran away from me and ended up 2.2k whoops :’) i hope you like it! (also note i have no idea how motors work i am not an engineer)

There’s an open textbook on his bed, but Dean is ignoring it; instead, he’s scrolling aimlessly through Instagram. He doesn’t really understand Instagram, but Charlie had looked so shocked and dismayed when she found out he didn’t have one that he’d given in. He doesn’t post much—doesn’t have much to post, really, besides his car and LARPing with Charlie—but it sure is a good distraction from his physics work. He sighs and flops down on his back as he taps through stories. It’s a Friday night, so there’s all the usual parties, and clubbing videos, and group dinner shots. He frowns as he taps through Charlie’s story of a few of their friends playing D&D—he’d be there, too, if it weren’t for his exam. His physics final, on Monday, that he should be studying for. Instead of being on Instagram.

Dean is about to close the app and begrudgingly turn his attention back to his notes when he clicks onto one last story.

HELP NEEDED ASAP, it says, white against a black background, in all caps. Someone who is good at engineering. Or building. Or even just welding things. I’ll pay you, it continues, and then in pizza and beer. Please, in smaller font, directly below.

Dean pauses. He likes beer. And pizza. And building things. He could help out this—who posted this, anyway? It’s a name he doesn’t recognize. casanova.k. He taps on the profile picture. His eyes go wide.

Oh.

That guy. That guy from the hipster art party Charlie had dragged him to earlier in the semester, when she was still dating that art girl, and he’d ended up in a dark room thick with smoke, blurry with alcohol, talking to a guy about three levels of cool higher than him about…something he can’t remember. He just remembers hastily exchanging Instagrams as Charlie dragged him out of the party, ranting about her soon-to-be-ex.

And now he needs help.

Dean looks at his textbook. He looks back at the guy’s—Cas?—Instagram. He takes a deep breath and pulls up a message.

i like beer, pizza, and welding things

It’s smoother than usual, and Dean is proud of himself for about 2 seconds before he panics and ruins it: i’m an engineer, i mean. not just a rando with a thing for power tools, haha.

There’s an achingly long pause before Cas likes both messages.

This is how Dean Winchester ends up standing in the University’s metalwork studio, with 24 hours left until his final exam, staring at a multi-eyed, multi-winged, metal…thing.

It’s due next week, Cas had said. I know it’s last minute. The only studio space I could get was Sunday.

And Dean had said yes, like a fool, because he can never say no to boys in eyeliner with pretty eyes.

Now, staring up at the sculpture, Dean lets out a low whistle. Cas, next to him, groans and drags one hand down his face. “I know. It’s—this is why I need help, alright? I think I can still salvage it if I just—”

Dean, who has taken a few steps forward to admire the intricacies, looks up sharply. “What?”

Cas frowns back. “What?”

Dean shakes his head. “No, I mean—I’m not an art guy, but this metalwork is great, man.” He traces one of the welded seams. “You, uh. Obviously have good hands,” he continues, and then winces. Great compliment.

There’s a soft huff and Dean looks up to see Cas watching him, bemused. “My good hands,” he emphasizes it, and part of Dean wishes he could melt like solder. “Make me a good artist. They do not make me good at making things move.”

Dean blinks at him. “Excuse me?” Move?

Cas frowns again, but it’s more out of worry than confusion. His arms are crossed, and Dean tries very hard not to focus on the black ink swirling down his forearm. “I sent you the plans yesterday.” Now he’s chewing on his lip ring, too, and Dean rips his attention back to the steel structure to stop himself from focusing on that, either. He tries to think about these plans. He remembers getting the text, opening them……and immediately disregarding them in lieu of getting as much studying done as possible. Internally, he groans.

Externally, he nods, pretends to know exactly what these “plans” are. “Sure, yeah,” he covers, and hopes it’s convincing.

The metal…thing, because Dean still isn’t sure exactly what it is, has a cluster of wings in the middle—6, to be exact, and they’re poking up around 3 large rings. He reaches out for one of the rings, right between two of its welded eyes, and gives it an experimental push. It creaks, and sways, and Dean winces when he hears Cas suck in a breath behind him. “Sorry”, he mutters, but when he turns back around Cas is frowning at the art piece and not at him.

Dean is expecting to hear either it’s alright or, more likely, never touch my art again, but Cas just hums and steps up until he’s standing next to Dean. “What do you think this is?”

It’s the closest they’ve been since he arrived, and Dean takes a moment to observe the other student from this distance. He’s wearing black boots, black jeans. A t-shirt with a band on it that Dean has never heard of. His nails are black but the rings he’s wearing are silver, and so is the cross hanging around his neck. His hair looks like he either spent an hour on it or no time at all, and his eyes—like at that party, the one neither of them has mentioned yet—are rimmed in black. Dean, in his sneakers and second-hand jeans and faded Batman shirt, has never felt less cool.

“It’s an angel,” Cas continues, and Dean isn’t sure if he’s given up on waiting for a response or if he’d never expected one in the first place. “A biblical one. You know, the ‘be not afraid,’ kind.” He lowers his voice for the angel impression, which Dean didn’t think was possible. He doesn’t know what to do with the realization that it is.

“Don’t think this is what my mom meant when she used to say angels were watching over me,” Dean tries for a joke, and it’s half-hearted, but to his relief Cas chuckles anyway.

“Yes, well. The church preaches them as significantly more…cuddly.” Cas frowns. “It makes praying to them easier to sell.”

The cross around his neck is starting to get confusing.

“And these—these are gonna move,” Dean hazards a guess, reaching out to touch one of the rings again. “All of them?”

“They’re electrons,” Cas nods, which Dean supposes is an answer. “They should all circle the wings together, like the classic atom diagram. But I can’t—” Cas reaches out for the ring this time, hand landing directly above Dean’s. He pushes it, and it sways. Obviously frustrated, he pulls back. “I need it to be motorized, to look right. And I have the motor but don’t know how…to do it.”

And, well. That, Dean understands. He smiles and, in a burst of confidence, claps Cas on the shoulder. Cas looks up at him, startled, but his expression morphs into a soft smile at the look on Dean’s face.

“Let’s get her moving, then.”

He tries not to think about the time slipping away as Cas hauls out the motor, or when he hands Dean tools. He does not stare too long at Cas’ biceps when he’s screwing something in, or when they have to do last-minute welding. They get it hooked up, and it whirs to life, and Dean does not think about how late it is when Cas gives him a hug in his excitement, or when he promises to follow up on his beer and pizza promise at his apartment.

It’s there, back in Cas’ apartment, sitting on his living room floor, both a beer or two in, when Cas finally mentions it.

“You’re the one who gave me that idea, you know.”

Dean stops mid-chew and blinks at him. “Whg—” he swallows his bite of pizza and tries again. “What?”

Cas shrugs and doesn’t make eye contact. He picks at the beer label. “At the party we met at. The one we aren’t talking about, for some reason.”

Dean wants Cas’ ugly, blue, cigarette-smelling shag carpet to swallow him whole.

“You told me you don’t ‘get’ art,” he sets the beer bottle down to do air quotes, and Dean’s shame deepens. “Because you only ‘get’ science. And I told you they were the same thing. And you told me to prove it.”

Suddenly, it clicks, and Dean risks making eye contact. Cas catches his gaze and holds it steady, and he’s calm—not upset, Dean registers, which is a relief. “The atom,” he blurts out, and Cas grins. “Yeah.”

“Art and science.”

“Yeah.”

Dean is sitting up straighter now. “But, the angel—”

Cas sighs and pushes himself up from where he’d been leaning against the couch. He turns until he’s fully facing Dean. “Divinity,” he raises one hand, “and the core building blocks of humanity,” he raises the other. “Art,” he gestures with the first hand, “and science.” With the second.

Dean stares at him. “Are you calling art divine?”

“Art is an expression of divinity,” Cas shrugs. “Science is an explanation for it. But it’s—you know. The same thing.”

Dean wonders how he can say that so casually, so nonchalantly. He wonders what would happen if he crossed the pizza-box distance and kissed him.

“I’m sorry,” he blurts instead, and Cas raises his eyebrows. “The party, I didn’t think—I didn’t think you remembered.”

“I assumed you didn’t,” Cas counters. “But you did. You do. Why didn’t you text me?”

It’s exactly what he expected to hear and it still catches him off guard. “Um—” Dean stammers, trying to think of a good excuse. Cas is just watching him—not staring at, watching—brows furrowed.

With a heavy sigh, Dean settles on the truth. “Come on, man. Look at me,” he scoffs and stares down at his jeans, the already worn knees even worse after the day spent kneeling on concrete. “I’m an engineering dork who plays D&D on Fridays and you’re—” he waves vaguely in Cas’ direction. “You know.”

The frown has deepened. “I don’t.”

“Cool.” It sounds so juvenile to say it out loud.

Now, Cas looks taken aback. “Dean. We met at a party where I voluntarily listened to you talk about string theory for an hour and a half.”

Dean doesn’t know if that’s a compliment or not. He buries any possible blush with a swig of beer. “String theory’s cool,” he grumbles into the bottle.

“Yes.” Cas agrees. “And so are you. Although—” he pauses and tilts his head. “I could have sworn you were in physics, based on how much you talk—”

Dean is so caught up in Cas Novak calling him cool that it takes his brain a second to process the word “physics,” but when he does he nearly spits beer all over the ugly carpet. “Shit,” he swears, already starting to scramble up.

“What?” Cas is following him, frowning.

“Physics final. In—” he checks his watch, “—16 hours. I gotta—” he still has time to water down the beer, study, and get at least 7 hours of sleep before—

“…Why did you just spend all day helping me if you have a final tomorrow?” Dean pauses from where he’s trying to find his other shoe to glance back at Cas, who looks so genuinely baffled it shoots a warmness into Dean’s heart.

“You needed help,” Dean shrugs, finally locating the missing sneaker and pulling it on. “Good luck with the angel, though, okay? If it gives you any running issues, feel free to—”

He’s pulling on his jacket when he feels a touch on his arm and realizes that, sometime in the past 20 seconds, Cas has crossed the room to him. “Dean,”

Dean pauses, and Cas…looks nervous.

“I like D&D,” he offers, and Dean stares at him.

“What.”

Cas levels his gaze. “There is nothing more punk than dragons,” he replies, incredibly seriously.

Dean’s brain short-circuits.

Maybe it’s the adrenaline from the exam panic, maybe it’s the 1.5 beers, maybe it’s Cas’ hand still warm on his arm, maybe he’s still caught up in Cas calling him cool and maybe his brain takes an extra second to load his self-consciousness on its reboot, but—he leans down and kisses him.

Cas makes a small noise but kisses him back almost immediately—but then he’s pulling back nearly as quickly, and he gently pushes Dean back by the shoulders when he tries to follow. Not far enough away to be a rejection, just…enough. “You have an exam in the morning,” he says this like an apology, and the warmth in Dean’s chest grows. “Text me after?”

Dean nods, then pauses, realizes what Cas just said, and nods again. “Yeah, I—yeah, I will.”

“There’s not enough alcohol here for you to pretend to forget this time,” he teases, but he’s smiling.

Dean flushes anyway. “I’m sorry.”

Cas shakes his head and pushes him a bit. “Apologize tomorrow. Go.”

“Okay.” Dean doesn’t move.

“Okay,” Cas replies.

“Okay,” Dean says, and leans down to kiss him again, a quick one, because he thinks maybe he can.

“Okay,” Cas repeats, but his tone is fond. “Go.”

“Okay,” Dean repeats back. But this time, he does.

The next day, after he aces his physics final, he doesn’t pretend to forget.

[valdomarxxx]

Trying something a little different today for @whataboutthebard. Another tale. Another life, one that was lived by other people*. On the subject of sex pollen. Consent is freely given. A grand total of 3k words. Rated M/E. Enjoy, my darlings.

~

There is a shining golden band around Oswald’s finger. This is a recent development, and everywhere he goes people ask him about it. He wishes they wouldn’t. He should be happy, he knows; should be full of that fizzing, new-love excitement.

But he feels nothing. It had been a suggestion, paired with gentle pushing from his mother and significantly less gentle pushing from his father. He should have said no, he knows. He’s a bard, for fuck’s sake, he should have followed his truth or his desire or whatever the fuck it is artistic types are supposed to do.

But he didn’t say no. He said yes, because all he could think of was what the alternative might be. A life lived in solitude, forever. He’ll never have what he wants - who he wants - and perhaps it might not be so bad. Perhaps a loveless life shackled to another will be better than a loveless life alone.

The band squeezes his finger, cutting off the circulation.

It is Belleteyn eve. This should be the night for celebrating love. He’s horribly aware of this; and horribly aware that his fiance is elsewhere this evening. He should be more upset about that than he is. He wants to be alone.

He wants to be with him. Larkspur, they call him. It’s what he calls himself, having shrugged off the name his parents burdened him with when he was born.

Usually, Belleteyn is celebrated with bonfires and dancing and singing, mingling with crowds. Tonight, a party of perhaps a dozen artists have snuck from the city walls towards the forest a few miles beyond. They say that magic happens on Belleteyn night, and while there are a few cynics amongst their numbers, it promises to be a wonderful evening.

Larkspur leads the way - he’s well-versed in magic, he claims, thanks to his travels up and down the Continent.

“Who knows what could happen?” He trills, looking over his shoulder at the group. “Anything could happen.”

His gaze lands on Oswald. Often, that gaze is mocking or antagonistic. A threat. A challenge. Today, it’s like a question. Oswald doesn’t have time to probe before he’s looking away again with a laugh - a floating, melodic noise that makes Oswald’s skin tingle.

He nervously fingers at the band around his finger. His fiance has never met Larkspur. She would hate him. She would really hate him, not just in the way Oswald pretends to.

He’s struck with the sudden urge to tear away the maddening ring and hurl it into the Pontar.

But he doesn’t, of course.

The forest beyond the city is wide and dark and sprawling. Oswald cannot help but feel nervous as they step between the trees, looking for seasonal chaos. He sniffs cynically at Larkspur’s assertions that anything could happen; he is sure he knows what will happen. Drinking and laughing and singing. He has already picked out the couples in the group that he is sure will sneak away for more traditional Belleteyn celebrations, and he is not amongst them.

They are seated on fallen trees, passing around a bottle of mead, when there is a hand on Oswald’s shoulder. He looks up. It’s Larkspur, eyes shining in the low light of their tiny bonfire.

“Come with me,” he says.

Oswald sniffs. “You’re going to lead me into the forest to murder me,” he says. “To be rid of the competition before next week’s contest.”

Larkspur grins, his teeth shining. “You know me so well,�� he says. He turns away. “Are you coming or not?”

Oswald passes the bottle to their nearest friend. He stands. “I want it known,” he says, “that I want a dignified death.”

“Noted.”

The forest is dense enough that the chattering of their group fades away eerily quickly. It is dark - yet not too dark - and the odd silence is oppressive. It seems they can both feel it, and slip easily into bickering to fill the quiet.

“Perhaps you intend to do away with me,” Larkspur teases. “It would be easier to kill me than win by your own merit.”

“You invited me out here,” Oswald spits, pushing past him and taking the lead. “Unless I tricked you into that, too?”

“Perhaps you did. I would not put it past you. You used some psychological trick on me to lure me here.”

“Hmm.”

“You surely have nothing to fear,” Larkspur says, “only last week you said I had no talent. Does that not make you confident that you will win?”

“I will win,” Oswald says, pushing aside a branch and pausing to allow Larkspur to follow before letting go, “and on my own merit, not because I eliminated the competition. Besides,” he edges through the trees, “I didn’t say that you were untalented, just that you were— oh.”

He stands in a clearing perhaps a few meters wide, the leaves and debris beneath their feet giving way to soft, springy moss in an unnaturally bright green. The trees here are green, too, covered in sprawling vines, the leaves shimmering. It smells of honey and syrup, of living things. Larkspur bumps into him from behind, equally enraptured.

Surrounding the edge of the clearing - bursting from the vines and hanging from the boughs and even sprouting from the moss - are hundreds of enormous flowers.

For all the world, they could be enormous daffodils, although Oswald has never seen daffodils in these colours. They glow, like sunlight is seeping from them, the air around them shimmering with heat. The one closest to him is a vibrant cerise, the corona darker and the petals fading to a pearlescent blush. He reaches out, desperate to feel it, to see if it's as warm and soft as it looks.

It is. It feels alive beneath his fingertips, and as he brushes his hand across the petals the flower shudders, as if responding to him. Little motes of pollen shake on the tip of the stamen like water droplets dangling from a rooftop.

“Have you ever seen anything like this?” He breathes, keeping his voice low.

“No,” says Larkspur, taking a step towards the one closest to him, the petals an iridescent green colour. “Never. They’re…” he reaches out too, stroking the corona with a single finger. “They’re incredible.”

There’s a breeze, carrying with it the smell of sap and applewood. The precariously clinging pollen shivers, then gets caught on the wind, dancing like dandelion seeds. A speck of it lands on Oswald’s doublet, staining the baby-blue silk yellow.

He brushes it away with a little sniff. He feels warm, like his clothes are suddenly too tight, suddenly aware of all the places the silk and satin touches his body. There’s a minute noise beside him, and he turns - Larkspur is staring at him. His eyes are wide, his pupils huge and round and black.

“Are you all right?” Oswald says. “You look… different.”

There’s a florid flush spreading up Larkspur’s cheeks. His chest, neatly framed in the vee of his unbuttoned chemise, is equally pink.

“I was going to ask you the same thing,” he says. “I—”

He doesn’t get to finish that sentence. The wind picks up - unusually turbulent for the season - and the flowers around them shake and they’re both suddenly caught in a cascade of pollen, the dusty clumps raining down on them like sweet-smelling snow. Oswald sneezes as it flutters around him, sticking in his hair and tickling his nose. When finally the wind stops, they’re both coated in a fine yellow powder.

It tingles in every place it touches his skin. He feels…

He feels hot all over. Like the fever he contracted when he was a boy, but different. Better. The fever made him feel shuddery and sick, but this… this makes him feel like his skin is lit up, like he’s made of fireworks, the butterflies in his stomach transformed into birds. He can smell the pollen on him, sweet and heady. He can sense Larkspur standing beside him in a way he couldn’t before. He can feel the space he takes up, sense him moving as if through the vibrations in the air.

Oswald looks back at him, his brown hair turned golden. His lips are parted. His tongue - pink and probing - licks at his lips, taking some of the yellow flecks with it. Oswald is struck with the desperate need to taste; to taste him and the flowers, all at once.

They both step forwards together, brightly-painted mirror images of each other. Oswald is no stranger to desire - certainly no stranger to desire for this man - but now it's heightened. The feeling he’s been able to repress for a long and painful decade is now unstoppable. Holding it back would be like trying to stop a tidal wave with his own body: it would batter him, drown him, drag him along regardless.

Larkspur says something. It might be Oswald’s name. He’s too lost in the way his lips move to hear the word.

He forces himself to focus, despite it all. There’s a look of recognition on Larkspur’s face.

“I know what this is,” he mutters, lifting his hands to examine the pollen. Each word sounds like it takes a considerable effort to say. “Eric told me about them last Belleteyn. We were near fae country, and he said…” his eyes go a little unfocused. “What did he say? It only blooms this time of year. It’s powerful. Magical. He told me to avoid it, that I shouldn’t touch it, because the pollen…” he blinks, and Oswald realises there’s dust in his eyelashes, too, clinging like absurd tears. “The pollen is a— a—” he snaps his fingers, frowning. “It’s an aphrodisiac. I told him he was being stupid. I said—”

He looks up. Something shifts in his expression. “I said…” he trails off, unsure.

“Lark…” Oswald says. It’s barely more than a whisper, an exhale.

And then they’re kissing. He doesn’t know how it happens - one moment they’re staring at each other, and the next they’re locked together in a desperate embrace. They’ve kissed before, of course, but this is different. Larkspur sucks at Oswald’s lip, his hands tangling in his hair, and Oswald melts into him, like they’re one person instead of two.

It feels like it could last forever, until Larkspur makes a strangled noise and pulls away, throwing himself backwards, colliding with one of the flower-covered trees. His lips are red.

“We can’t—” he gasps, hand scrambling at his chest. “It’s not right, not like this. It’s not real.”

Oswald’s fingers tingle. “It feels real.”

“But it’s not. I cannot—” Larkspur closes his eyes, pressing his hands over them, taking a deep breath. “It’s not right. I will not—” a short, choking breath, “—I will not take advantage of you because of some stupid fucking flowers.”

“How are you taking advantage?” Oswald shoots back, the tingling growing into an ache, into a burn. “Tell me how.”

“You don’t want me. It’s the fucking pollen. You don’t want me.”

“Yes I do—”

“Don’t say that!” Larkspur is shouting. Pollen falls, dislodged by his yells.

The tingling, rushing, scorching feeling twists around something else in Oswald’s chest - something hard and rusted over. Something he’s forced shut for too long.

“I’ve wanted you for years,” he says, and he’s shouting too, “Of course I have!”

“You’re engaged!”

“Unhappily!”

Silence descends. It’s the first time Oswald has said that out loud. No one was supposed to know. No one was ever supposed to know.

“What?”

He tries to swallow it back, but something has taken over his tongue, and he can’t. “I do not want it,” he says in a rush. “I do not— I tried— but I don’t…”

“You don’t love her?”

Oswald shakes his head.

“You… you want me?”

He nods.

“You want me, or you just want to fuck me?”

His boldness sends a heat to Oswald’s belly, stirring his prick, quickening his pulse.

“I…” He finally regains control of his tongue. “I just want to fuck you.”

[Liar.]

Oswald steps forward. Larkspur is pressed against the tree, but he could flee if he wanted to. He could step aside. He could push him away; they both know he’s stronger. When their chests are pressed together, he sighs. Oswald can smell him: mead and spice and lingering magic.

Larkspur moves first. It isn’t as torrid as before, and he kisses slowly, cautiously, his lips pillow-soft and moist. Oswald lets him into his mouth, sliding his eyes shut, allowing himself to be moved, making himself pliable.

They’re on the ground. The moss is spongy beneath them, soft as a featherbed. Larkspur leans over him, his knees to either side of his hips, and tugs away Oswald’s doublet. He’s moving faster now, and the seams tug, but Oswald doesn’t care about the stitches and the silk when Larkspur is looking at him like that - like he’s going to eat him alive. The doublet is thrown aside, between the darkness of the trees, where it—

[Vanishes. Forever. I never found it again]

—melds into the shadows on the ground beyond the clearing.

Oswald cannot bear it. He surges up, pushing Larkspur back so they’re face to face, tearing his doublet up and away. He doesn’t even pause before he gets to work on the thin undershirt beneath, pulling it over his head and tossing that away too so he can finally touch.

Larkspur’s hairy skin is hot as coals, sheened with sweat. Oswald brushes a thumb over one of his nipples, and he gasps and bucks against him. He pulls his own chemise away too, so he can better feel Larkspur’s skin against his own, so they can touch in all the places he’s desperate for them to touch. Larkspur strokes his hands down Oswald’s arms, tickling in the bend of his elbows, leaning forwards to press open kisses to his forearms and wrists.

When he gets to his hands, he pauses. Larkspur is still straddling him, and he twists their fingers together. He tugs Oswald’s left hand closer, never breaking eye contact.

He sucks his finger into his mouth, slowly. Oswald can feel his tongue pressing against the underside of the digit, wet and unbearably warm. He slides further, taking Oswald’s finger fully into his mouth, until his teeth chink against the gold.

When he pulls back, the ring is gone. He grins, and it’s shining delicately and obscenely between his teeth. He spits it to the ground, where it lands on the moss with a soft thump.

[I remember the argument about that. I lost it, I say. In the woods. I don’t remember how. She asks if we fucked. I cannot find it in me to lie. She ends it. I laugh.]

Oswald leans back. Larkspur follows. The pollen sticks to their sweaty skin like paint, smearing in sunshine streaks across their chests. When Larkspur kisses him, from his lips to his jaw and down his chest to his stomach, he rises again with gold daubing his mouth like a smirking god. When they kiss, it blurs between them. It tastes like spring.

He wants to know how Larkspur tastes, too. All of him. As they kiss, he twists around, spinning their twined bodies so Larkspur is pressed to the moss beneath him, hair splayed and eyes wide. He grins up at him. He laughs, and it’s like music.

Oswald kisses all of him he can reach. His fingers desperately scramble at the waistband of his awful burgundy breeches - the ones he hates - and soon he’s pulling them away. Larkspur is magnificent. Oswald is a poet, he should know the words for this, he should put it to song and sing about him until the sun sets for the last time… but right now all he can think is how much he wants.

When he takes Larkspur in his mouth for the first time, he swears into the sacred space, his hands gripping in Oswald’s hair.

[Did you know you bruised my scalp? I didn’t care. I didn’t tell you, either.]

Osworld works him till he’s a panting wreck, till he’s close and begging, then he stops - rises - slides kisses up his skin. Larkspur gasps into the kiss, slipping his hand between them, finding himself blocked by the fabric of Oswald’s breeches.

“Get rid of these,” he pants. It’s the first thing he’s said in half an hour. Oswald does as he’s told, for once.

When they’re both naked, sprawled on the verdant forest floor, there is a moment of stillness. They’re absurdly coated in pollen, hair in tangles, eyes dark. There is a bruise forming on Larkspur’s neck in the shape of Oswald’s teeth.

“Fuck,” Oswald breathes.

“Yeah.” Larkspur agrees.

Oswald takes him in for a moment, despite the tickling urge in his hands to reach out and finish what they've started. He may never get to do this again.

[I will never get to do this again.]

“You look sad,” Larkspur says, suddenly breaking him from his thoughts.

“I’m not sad,” he says.

[LIAR!]

Larkspur tugs him down. “You think too much,” he chuckles. “You’ll make your wrinkles worse.”

He kisses him soft. He kisses him hard, reaching down between them again, taking them both in his hand. Oswald buries his face in Larkspur’s neck, tonguing at his skin, taking short, laboured breaths as he draws them both out.

It’s hands. Mouths. Fingers slick with spit. They kiss until they cannot breathe any more. They crest together, like the sun rising, as pollen scatters in the air, catching on the wind of their words.

“Fuck, Jaskier Larkspur—”

“Valdo Oswald—”

Afterwards, they lay sprawled on the ground. The flowers still glow, casting them in their warm, comfortable light. They’re in the middle of the forest - full of monsters and dangers that Larkspur can ramble about for hours - yet they’re safe, here. Nothing can reach them in the clearing. This is Belleteyn, after all.

The magic really is powerful, just as Eric had warned Larkspur last year. Even as they lie curled together, regaining their breath,Oswald can feel the urge creeping back up his chest, the press of Larkspur’s naked body against him thrilling him again. He can fill his sensitive cock stirring in interest once more.

“Lark—”

It’s all he manages to say before he’s being kissed again.

Belleteyn night is long, and full of secrets. This is one they can keep. The next morning, they emerge, rumpled and marked in yellow streaks. Their friends ask where they’ve been, when they find them early that afternoon. They peer at each other, but keep their mouths shut.

Next Belleteyn, Oswald is on the coast, and Larkspur is travelling with his— with Eric. The flowers in the woods fade. Oswald wonders every year if they’re still there. He never goes back to check.

[sichengtual]

— summary: wanting to make his big break as a song-writer, jun gets assigned to work with a band that has every intent on making it big. but it’s the 70’s, and just as he’s about to discover, love and rock&roll go hand in hand.

— pairing: wen junhui x reader.

— au: 70’s, song-writer!jun, rockstar!reader. 

— genre: fluff. 

— word count: 15, 273 (15.2k)

— playlist: somebody to love — queen ;  your song — elton john ; where you lead — carole king ;  tiny dancer — elton john. 

— warnings: alcohol consumption, some cursing, josh saying groovy every time he speaks.

— a/n: a part of me really wishes i was living in the 70′s and i think it shows here lol also, the moonwalker is inspired on the troubadour and the song jun writes is tiny dancer because it carried me the entire way, what an mvp. 

this one’s for @chocosvt​ ! i really hope you like it <3

Jun is nervous. 

The tapping of his feet against the cold, faux tiled floor produces no audible sound over the music coming from the speakers, but it’s still noticeable to him. He tries to keep a steady pace, even counting along to the beat as he plays the same words over and over inside his head. It’s his own voice speaking back at him, words a mere reminder, and, if he were to be completely honest, part of the reason behind his nerves.

He had promised you, on the very first day he met you, that he’d help you shine. That he’d make you succeed. Part a rush of the moment, part wanting to impress his boss and part a reassurance for himself, his promise had been easy to make. Then. And it’s not that he doubts himself, or you, but, at the end of the day, he’s a 24 year old making his debut in the music industry. And it’s hard, of course, because even when he’s not the one performing, it’s still his words that are being sung. 

Doing what he does is harder than people usually think. Jun’s lyrics are heart-felt, authentic, with his entire soul poured on the paper and ready to be dissected by whoever got to listen to the songs he wrote. He surrenders it to the artist, basically giving up any kind and sort of hold he has over the feelings he’s just reflected, giving them away for someone else to interpret them the way they want. The way they can. And as difficult as it is sometimes, it’s part of the job, and all that he can hope for is for them to be interpreted in the most authentic way possible. It’s hard, definitely, but after years and years of trying, he knows that having them expressed are way better than keeping them in.

Following the loud bang of a drum, he looks around as he keeps the pace with his foot. The entire room smells like entrapped smoke, and warm coffee, and it looks somewhat like it too. There’s a thick, almost translucent layer of fog-like smoke hanging on the air, slowly rising to the ceiling as minutes keep passing. There’s also a big arrangement of paper cups, both full and empty, resting on all possible surfaces around him, almost reflecting the passing of time in their placement; 8 in the morning on the desks, 2 in the evening on the equipment luggage, and a few hours past midnight on some parts of the floor. 

The practice room is a dimly-lit space, with a few round, orange and yellow glass lamps hanging on the ceiling and set a few meters apart, barely even enough to illuminate the entire room. In the evening, the last few rays of sunshine manage to break through the high set windows, reflecting on the tinged glass and breaking upon the dark purple walls in bright, warm shades of orange. 

He hasn’t been there a lot, only a few days since he had arrived for the first stop of the tour, but as he sets his eyes on it, he can’t help but think it almost resembles a sunset. He can see the colors, the exact same ones that paint over the sky just as the night is about to fall down, and it serves to help him ease a little bit. Sunsets, even the ones reflected upon the walls of a world tour practice room, are the same all around. 

“Why are you still getting it wrong? It’s all about the groove, man,” Josh whines. He’s sitting on a small wooden stool, his guitar propped up on his knee. 

“I don’t know, Josh, I’m the one that wrote this riff and for some reason I just can’t play it correctly again!”

“Beginner’s luck,” Chan comments, not really involved in the argument, but never one to pass the opportunity to strike a joke. He looks down to tune down his guitar once Mingyu turns to give him a stare. 

“That doesn’t make sense, I��ve been doing this for years.”

“Well, it certainly doesn't seem like it! Just try to make it groovy!”

He’s still getting used to the band. 

They’re a nice group of people; kind, loud and boisterous, but that’s just every band he knows. Having worked in the label for years, he’s used to seeing bands come and go, submitting his songs with no much more room for interaction left other than a Jun, they liked it! coming from his boss on the good days (the bad days are different, a little less remarkable, but they’re the ones he tries not to think about). This, his first time on the road with one of them, is a completely new experience, and if it wasn’t for finally seeing his dream beginning to get on track, it’d be one that would probably have him shaking in fear. 

But they’re warm, laid-back and easy to talk to, which he appreciates, knowing he’s not the best at initiating conversations... or maintaining them. He had felt intimidated at first, looking into a group of rising rock stars from the outlook of someone who’s just as into their world as he’s out of it, standing somewhere between the line that divides the outside and the inside. But he’s entering, just walking in and slowly stepping his toes on the water; and he’s doing it by the side of people he’s glad he can finally get to call his friends. 

“Jun, could you possibly tell Mingyu he’s been playing the wrong note the entire time?” 

“Yeah Josh, I already know I’ve been playing it wrong.” 

“Please stop fighting so we can practice!” Soonyoung says from his spot on the drums, backed up with a nod from Vernon, the bassist looking surprisingly bored at the altercation.

“Can you tell him to play the right note this time? And remember, make it groovy!”

He hadn’t heard the door opening, but you’re walking in the room just he finally tears his gaze from Josh’s bright red guitar. You turn to give him a smile, one he quickly returns, before turning back to the two bickering guitarists. He turns to look at the set playlist, with his name carefully penned down below all fifteen songs, and he tells himself that, despite his nerves, he might just be perfectly ready for the tour to start. 

“Are you okay? You looked a little distracted today.” 

The diner is quiet. 

There’s really not much movement, with only another customer besides him inside the small establishment. He can focus on the clinging of his spoon as he moves it around in his cup, light, creamy bellows of steam rising as the aftermath of the ripples he creates on the dark liquid. The coffee really isn’t great, tasting a bit tangy against his tongue, even after he had added a small packet of sugar to try and ease the bitterness of the beverage. If he focuses enough, he can even make out a light buzz coming from the neon lights advertising the diner in the street, sound low but crisp against the pouring rain. 

It’s cold, and a part of him really regrets coming to the diner straight out of practice without going to his room first. He had just needed to write, and to do that, he needed silence. He runs a hand up and down his left arm, the coolness from his rings perceivable even through the thick wool of his shirt. 

He looks up, the ripples inside his cup long forgotten. 

You’re standing in front of him, looking just as tired as he feels, with a completely different stance than the one you usually show inside the practice room. Or on the stage. It’s relaxed, at ease, a little shy, even, and he can’t help but wonder if, behind the whole rockstar facade, maybe the two of you aren’t really that different. 

You take a seat in the chair in front of him, the laminated red seat squeaking as response to the movement. 

“Huh?” He lets out.

“At practice,” you move, trying to get comfortable in the cold, plastic chair. “You looked a little distracted. Everything okay?”

Jun shrugs, smiling softly. “It’s just nerves, I think.”

It’s not the first time you’ve seen Jun smile, but it’s the first time you’ve seen him smile like that. And, in complete honesty, it was the first time it had been completely directed at you. He had always been a little quiet, ever since he was first introduced as the “new song-writer” by the label director, and, because of the chaos that naturally ensued whenever surrounded by the entire band, your interactions with Jun had been few and far-between. 

Here’s what you’ve managed to learn about him in the months you’ve known him: he likes to be alone when he writes, but he can also do it when sitting as far away from the speakers as possible. He likes drinking his coffee with both sugar and cream, and even if he doesn’t drink too much of it, he always finds a way to spill even a little bit, be it on his shirt or somewhere near his notebook (which has been the cause of many scares inside the practice room). He keeps a pen in his shirt pocket at all times, whether it be for writing down an incoming idea wherever he found or for clicking the seconds away whenever he got nervous. 

And he’s surprisingly shy about his lyrics, even when he sounds completely confident in them. You can tell, whenever you’re given them to sing them, that they are words he’s proud of; words that came from his heart as bits and pieces of the most beautiful poetry you’ve ever read. And they’re always accompanied by a small, shy smile and the slight reddening of his cheeks. 

“I know what you mean,” you say. You call the waiter just as Jun takes a sip from his coffee, not missing the slight purse of his lips as he swallows down the warm beverage. “I’m nervous too.”

“You don’t seem to be,” he comments. He looks back down at his coffee, hand still making circles with the spoon. “Whenever you sing, it’s like you’re completely used to it. It feels as if it were something you’ve always done, something you know like the back of your hand. And still… I don’t know how to explain it. It’s like you’re thrilled by it, even more so every day.” 

Jun looks up at you, hiding his words behind a smile. You don’t notice, too busy ordering a cup of chamomile tea to make anything of the way he’s staring at you from the other side of the table. 

“It’s amazing what putting on a brave face can do, then,” you answer. “I love being on stage. It’s just nerve wracking to think about it when I’m not there. It’s like Mingyu not being able to get his own riff right unless he’s playing in front of a live crowd.” 

“Oh, please don’t remind me of the riff incident. Joshua’s voice hasn’t left my head the entire day.” 

Rain continues falling. You can hear some melody coming from the speakers, which, even when it feels completely unfamiliar, makes Jun’s sway to the side as he rests his head on his hand. Maybe he knows it. 

“I hope it’s not a bad sign,” Jun mentions, pointing to the window with his thumb. “Starting the tour with a little bit of rain.”

“Seungkwan was talking about that earlier, too,” you say, thinking back of the keyboardist’s words from before you left the practice room. “But you know, if anything, I think it might be a good sign.” 

Jun purses his lips, head moving to the side. His fingers move across the table, fiddling with the empty sugar packet he had used. The bright pink paper shines bright against his hands, fluorescent yellow light reflecting from outside. It captures his eyes, and yours, and for a brief second, the both of you are stuck on watching how the packet’s shadow grows whenever Jun moves it around his fingers. It reminds you of him with the pen, a mere distraction. Or maybe just a way for him to set his ideas in order. 

You can tell he’s still a bit hesitant about the interaction, not knowing if they’re nerves at talking about the tour or just nerves at talking to you. As soon as he looks up from his hands, you give him a smile. 

“It’s a bit of a fresh start, isn’t it? And I think, right now, that’s what we all need.”

As much as Jun wants to say he’s not surprised at the turn-out, his eyes are wide open at the influx of people coming through the doors. 

His heart beats loud against his chest as he looks down at the stage, empty of people but perfectly set with an array of instruments that are only waiting to be lit alive. The entire place is full of chatter; the ever-growing excitement of a crowd begging to be enchanted by an unknown performance. Up from his spot at the balcony, he can’t make out what they’re saying but he doesn’t miss how they’re saying it: and the pure excitement in their voices draws a chill from his spine. 

It’s a scene like the ones he’s been hearing about for years. Like the ones he’s been dreaming of witnessing, of being a part of it. And now he’s in one, not only as an spectator, but as the man behind the words. 

“It’s amazing, don’t you think? Or as Josh would say, incredibly groovy.” 

Seungcheol, the band’s manager, asks as he walks into the balcony. Him and Jun went way back, much more than anyone else in their group besides the band themselves. They were the new generation, the young dreamers at the office that were only waiting to be given a shot to prove themselves. They had been hired at the same time, both meant to work with a completely different artist that had ended up not taking them because of how young they were. 

They had built up their experience together, and it had been those late-night talks at the label’s office that made Jun able to call Seungcheol his friend, powered through by cheap coffee and tired conversations full of laughter. And they’re only part of the reason why Jun always refers to Seungcheol as a long-lost brother more than a newly found friend. 

“It’s almost sold out!” Seungcheol continues. He’s wearing a dark pin-stripe suit, as he always is whenever he’s on official business. His hair is slicked back, and his usual pair of gold wire-frame glasses rest on top of his nose, specs perfectly clean. “People keep walking in and walking in and walking in! It’s almost as if they’re the freaking Rolling Stones and not a band barely making their debut. Is that Hoshi or is it Charlie Watts on the drums?”

“It’s the Monday night show, it’s a guaranteed success,” Jun mutters. He knows Seungcheol would be able to see past his facade, to make out the true meaning of his words. Three years after meeting him, there isn’t much he can hide from him. “I’m happy for them, though. The first night’s important.”

“Yeah, me too,” Seungcheol smiles. “Vernon’s been freaking out in the backstage since he started hearing the crowd coming in. He’s just staring at his bass and Hoshi’s about to smack his head with his drumsticks.”

“They’re gonna do amazing. If Mingyu gets his riff right, that is.” 

“And everybody’s gonna love the songs,” Seungcheol says, pressing a gentle palm on Jun’s shoulder. He hadn’t even noticed he was shaking. “If only they knew the stud that wrote them. I bet they’d even like looking at those nice bell bottoms you’re wearing. Since when do you like purple pants?” 

“I bet they’re gonna prefer looking at Mingyu,” Jun laughs before Seungcheol does, and it almost distracts him from his surroundings. “Or even Josh. And Minghao gave me the pants, by the way.”

“Or even Josh,” Seungcheol laughs, shaking his head as he looks away from his friend. 

“Groovy,” Jun says. 

“Groovy,” his friend responds. 

Jun’s nerves have calmed down by the time the lights fall down. 

A half-empty beer bottle looks over the crowd, sitting immediately next to the balcony’s railing. He notices an entirely new atmosphere now that the room is only barely lit, as if the lights falling had only served to heighten the people’s emotions. It’s almost as if they’re in a different place altogether, with expectating hanging high in the air and out of everyone’s reach. 

The Moonwalker they had walked in, just a few hours before, barely resembles the Moonwalker they’re in right now. 

It had been lit by the natural light coming from the windows, bouncing over the wood-covered walls and reflecting over the little trinkets that served to adorn them. They had been the highlight of the place, attracting the eyes of everyone that entered to the rows and rows of pictures and memorabilia. What was that hanging over the bar, Bob Dylan’s hat? Jun had only been more impressed by the bright neon sign that spelled the bar’s name right on the center of the stage, after seeing it on newspaper cuttings for most of his life. 

A few days back, when Seungcheol had told him of the gig they had landed the band through a friend of his girlfriend (bless you Lily!), Jun almost couldn’t believe his words. The bright blue cursive sign had been the first thing that had come to mind, consuming his thoughts as a sort of finish line at the end of a marathon. It wasn’t only the bar’s trademark, it was also the backdrop of some of the most amazing debuts in modern rock n’ roll history. And now, looking at it shining brightly against the low-lit room, a part of him still can’t believe he might be about to see one of them with his own two eyes. 

He had heard of concert nights on the Moonwalker the same way he had heard the stories of the great mythic heroes. He had seen pictures the same way he had learned of iconic places and happenings. He remembers spending entire nights finding motivation in the dream of listening to his songs being played in the exact same place some of his favorite songs had been presented, of them finally finding their home within the same crowd that had once listened to The Byrds and Carole King. 

And as you walk onto the stage, commanding attention with each step, Jun is sure tonight is going to become one of those. And that it’s his songs that will be sung back by the crowd, resounding against the walls and enveloping the entire place in their meaning. 

The band had already been introduced by the club owner, but no one had actually turned to pay attention until you had walked on stage. You’re met by countless excited bellowings, a smile on your face forming at the sudden attention. 

“We hope you enjoy the show!”

The rest of the band follows, and Jun is struck by a thought. Words materialize in his head as if prompted by the first few notes, threading together into a complete, coherent phrase. It’s a phrase Jun knows. He might have heard it from someone, or read it from somewhere, and it’s stuck in his brain the same way the bridge of the song you’re singing once was. Or maybe it was just something someone had once told him. 

He knows that there are moments in an artist’s life that will define their career. Moments that let you know how it's gonna go. A preview of sorts. And he knows, looking at you shining under the spotlight, that he’s just witnessed something big. 

The entire crowd has gone wild at the music, and Jun knows it’s only the beginning. 

For now, he just smiles, and like the people dancing down below, he lets himself go. 

The party is in full-swing by the time Jun walks in. 

The house itself is small, one story and a few rooms that hold a big part of the party-goers. He can tell it’s usually used as a holiday residence, not exactly a place of staying but merely a place of passing, because every single thing that’s visible doesn’t really have a function different from simply looking good. The entire place is covered in small, colorful trinkets that look like they’re part of some random collection that everyone always sees but no one actually ever looks at. 

It’s truly a rock-star’s house, because, really, nothing about it makes sense. 

Countless bookshelves rest against the colorfully draped walls, an array of uneven, colorful wallpapers shining under the light of the multiple glass chandeliers, but not a single book is visible to the eye. The floor itself is a great quality wood, but everything’s hidden below a series of fuzzy rugs that somehow match the randomness of the wallpapers. 

The music changes slightly as he keeps walking, an entire ensemble of genres, styles and decades all the product of a number of record players playing simultaneously all over the house. All of them are playing a completely different thing, but somehow it all blends into one cohesive beat. Jun could go into the technicalities behind it and say it’s probably in the beats per minute, or could maybe go somewhere into the meaning behind the lyrics, but for now, he just lets himself get immersed into the scene. 

The party doesn’t resemble anything he had lived before, or even heard of. And it’s full of people. 

The entire team (band and staff alike) had been invited to an after-party held by some music executive that’s friends with the owner of the club. It happened every monday after the show, they had said, entertaining executives, artists, and club-goers alike. And no one really cared who was which as long as there was music playing all around them. 

“Jesus, is that Billy Joel?” Seungcheol asks as he walks closely behind Jun. The two of them and Minghao, the band’s stylist, had been the last to leave for the party, having to stay behind to finish the last of the arrangements that followed a successful concert at the Moonwalker, with the rest of you leaving with some of the club’s crew. “Guys, I think that’s Billy Jo- jesus, he’s talking to Chan and Seungkwan.”

“Of course he’d be talking to Chan and Seungkwan, they probably went right to him when they saw him,” Minghao says. “Hey, can you see Vernon around?”

“He’s probably sitting somewhere next to the drinks or something. Or maybe he’s outside, I think there’s a live band playing somewhere out there,” Jun comments.

“Damn, should’ve booked us too for that, right?” Seungcheol says, laughing with the words.

“Don’t you rather just enjoy the party and forget about performing for a bit?” Minghao questions. Out of the corner of his eye, Jun can see Seungkwan and Chan walking away from the group of people they had been talking to, probably on their way outside for some fresh air. “The guys seem to be having a great time. Let go for a bit, Cheol! Let’s enjoy this whole rockstar life even if it’s just for tonight!”

He can hear Mingyu’s laugh coming from somewhere nearby, even if his eyes can’t locate the tall guitar player. He’s surprised he can hear him, with how low his laugh usually is and how high the music is playing, but once Seungcheol points him out in the crowd, he’s only a few steps away. He’s entertaining a large group of people, with Joshua smiling by his side, the both of them holding two glasses of what looks like beer. 

It’s no surprise the two of them would like to be around the growing crowd, with how easily they seem to be able to strike a conversation with whoever walks by. He had known them to be sociable, in comparison with some like Vernon, Minghao or himself. It’s still a bit surprising, though, how in control they seem to be of a conversation held with people they probably didn’t know five minutes ago. 

“I’m gonna go find us something to drink,” Seungcheol says, patting Jun on the back before walking away with Minghao closely following his steps. 

And Jun is left alone. Still, in a house full of people, he sticks his hands in the front bottom of his purple jeans. They had really been Minghao’s suggestion, along with the slick yellow button up and a pair of red boots. It was comfy, and Seungcheol had assured him he really did look good, so he hadn’t dwelled much on it when leaving the hotel room. 

He debates joining Mingyu and Joshua’s crowd for a second, but the growing scent of tobacco and beer has him making his way to the door after he raises his hand in a greeting. Josh manages to signal him to the backyard before Jun leaves, and he wonders whether he’s simply pointing in the direction of the live band, or Vernon, or you. 

As he walks outside, bumping bodies with a never-ceasing crowd, he discovers it’s the later. The outside of the house is just as impressive as the inside, or, as he finds once he begins to look around, even more. 

The entire yard (or at least the part that’s closest to the house) has been decked in continuous rows of fairy lights, hanging from the trees like a mere reproduction of the constellations shining up above. There are at least five campfires, all surrounded by people holding guitars or dancing along to the songs being played by a live band nearby. Their silhouettes are reflected on the ground, a product of the blazing fire, and it’s almost like they’re dancing with the people themselves, more than being a plain reflection of them. 

It’s almost like a scene taken right out of a move, only livelier than any he could ever think of. 

Jun finds you with your back against a tree, sitting cross-legged on a furry carpet, completely enthralled in the music. There’s a series of carpets draped all over the grass, the exact same kind he saw inside, completing the part of the scene that connects both places. As he walks over to you, he wonders where the rest of the band is, with you being alone in the backyard, until he sees Seungkwan and Chan, still hanging close together, sitting a few feet away with what he assumes is another group. A part of him is thankful at the seeming privacy, finding a bit odd how comfortable he is in the middle of a growing crowd when just a few minutes ago he had felt overwhelmed by the loneliness behind it. But then he turns to look at you, smiling carelessly even with your eyes closed, and he knows it’s not a product of the environment.

It's because of you.

“I just wanted to say congratulations,” Jun says, making sure to fall as carefully as possible as he sits down next to you. “Tonight was amazing. Truly, got me tearing up at all.”

“You’ve got your own lyrics to thank for that, mister,” you say, followed by a laugh. You’re still in your concert outfit, although wearing a pair of sneakers as opposed to the platform shoes that had been paired up with the colorful overalls. “I’m pretty sure you weren’t the only one tearing up tonight. I think Hoshi even cried a bit himself.”

“He probably cried at the crowd making tiger claws back at him more than he did at the lyrics.” 

“Yeah, Vernon told him not to do it but he did it anyway!”

“Where are those two, by the way?”

“Somewhere next to where the band is playing,” you answer. You close your eyes as you speak, resting your back against the tree. “I just wanted to get away from everything. Sometimes it’s fun to just observe from a distance.”

“I know what you mean. I’ve been looking at life from a distance for so long, sometimes I forget what it is to actually be living it. I guess it makes for some interesting lyrics though, so it’s been kind of worth it, at least in that way,” Jun says, smiling at you even when you don’t see him. He moves closer to you as he hugs his knees to his chest, feeling the top of your shoulder brush against his. “I think coming with you guys on tour might change that.”

“It’s the rock-star life, huh?” You smile, and Jun can’t help but notice it’s a mirroring of his own smile. In some way, it looks just as vulnerable. He looks away when he feels his cheeks heat up. “You know, you’re much different from what I thought you were when I used to see you at the office.” 

“Different how?”

“I don’t know. I just know I really like talking to you. Every day, I really look forward to being around you,” you laugh, and when he turns to look back at you, you’re finally looking at him again. “You’re a breath of fresh air, Wen Junhui.”

“Says the rock-star,” he laughs. He’s smiling, holding his knees as close to his chest as he can manage as he tries to hide his fluester in his body language. Not that it’s working, anyways. “I’m just some guy.”

“You’re the most interesting guy I’ve ever met.”

You shake your head, and by the way your eyes set on the sky, Jun isn’t completely sure if you’re talking to him or if you’re simply talking to the stars, trying to set your story in the skies for the entire world to see. It makes him smile even wider, anyways. 

“I wonder which one shines brighter. From down here, they look almost the same. But maybe it’s just the distance that taints our perspective,” you mutter, pointing to the lights on the trees. 

“I’d like to think it’s the stars,” Jun comments. “When I was a kid, I always enjoyed watching them. I’d find patterns and have them in my head for weeks as a sort of picture out of a coloring book. Somehow, the stars always seemed to have the answers to every single question that would run through my head, even when miles away.”

“You speak like that and call yourself ‘some guy’,” you laugh. “It’s always poetry coming out of your lips, and I’d listen to every single bit of it.”

The conversation stops, but silence never envelops the both of you, because there is music all around. And there are people dancing, so when you lose focus on each other and gian it in your surroundings, their movement is everything you see. It’s almost as if they’re dancing for the two of you to watch, and neither of you notice the moment your head comes to rest in Jun’s shoulder, way too immersed in a ballet of silhouettes to make anything out of the sudden movement. 

“I hope tonight was good,” you say. “It felt different from other nights, and I don’t know what it was. I’ve never felt that way when performing at home. It felt almost magical, standing there, under the limelight, in front of all those people. Maybe it’s just me, though.” 

Jun shakes his head, muttering a soft no as an answer. You turn to look at each other when he starts speaking, still as close as before. But now he gets to look at you as he speaks. 

“I can’t begin to imagine what you must have felt. I’m not familiar with that side of the gig,” he says, trying to keep his voice as calm as possible. Somehow, the beer he had drank back at the club was still making his blood run wild through his veins, cheeks reddening at the eye contact. “I wish you could’ve seen it from my eyes. Listened to it through my ears, felt what I felt the moment you started singing. I’ve never seen you shine any brighter.”

"You’ve been attending our concerts long enough. Well,if the fifteen person presentations back home even count as concerts.”

“I’ve been to all of your concerts,” he laughs. “And believe me, tonight was really special.” 

“It’s the Moonwalker’s magic,” you say, and Jun turns to look at you. “You saw the place, it was special. It made it special.”

And he doesn’t know if it’s the effect of the lights shining above your head, or the remaining adrenaline coursing through his veins, but he’s sure he can hear his heart beating against his chest. He can hear it over the loud music, thumping so hard his mind goes blank, falling closer to you as he begins to lean in. 

Because even when far away from the Moonwalker, he’s still smiling the same. He feels just as happy, somewhere in the backyard of a stranger’s house. The place is special, for sure, but only as much as you made it. 

“It wasn’t the Moonwalker that was magical. It was you.”

And you can hear him, because even when the world around you is spinning completely out of order, his smile is still front and center in your eyes. He’s smiling at you and everything else only but circles around it. 

As a new song starts playing from a record player far away, Jun kisses you under a thousand fairy lights. You’re still not sure of which one shines brighter -the artificial lights or the stars high above- but as Jun’s hand finds yours over your lap, you decide you don’t really care. 

A part of you would really like to think nothing had changed after the kiss. 

In reality, the two of you had been so flustered he had ran back to Seungcheol and Minghao while you went to find Vernon and Hoshi, refusing to say anything about the moment to any of them. It was part of some unofficial and unspoken deal, sealed with only a look, sparing the both of you of any kind of conversation immediately afterwards. It had been a product of the moment, of adrenaline and slight tipsiness combined with a romantic scenery, and nothing else. 

That’s what you told yourself the entire night, even when questioned by Seungkwan about the sudden giddiness in your smile and the change in your gaze, slightly unfocused on the world in front of you, as if something more important was playing inside your head. As if that something was the memory of the feeling of Jun’s lips against yours, leaving your skin tingling as an aftermath of his touch. As if that something had been the way he had smiled at you right after, looking as if the affection you’d just shared was as unbelievable to him as it was to you. 

In all honesty, Jun’s kiss was more than one of the many that were shared that night by the people around you. It wasn’t just a product of the moment, of adrenaline and slight tipsiness combined with a romantic scenery, because the way you had looked at each other just before your lips connected had been a long time coming. That was the product of months of unknown pining; of you looking for him as soon as you entered the office, and of him not being able to take his eyes off you as soon as he saw you walking by. It was a product in the exchange that came with you singing for the world the words he had shared with you in messy scribbles over coffee-stained paper, something about the entire thing feeling growingly intimate the thought ran through your head. 

Because even when he wasn’t writing songs for you, or about you, he still trusted you with them. In your eyes, that was worth more than him signing one of them with your name on top of the page for everyone to see. And while you were sure it wasn’t an act of love (or at least not yet), you couldn’t deny it always opened the door for that possibility to walk in. Or for you to walk towards it, at least. Just like his songs, and for months on end, Jun had always been there. 

Well, at least up until the night he kissed you. 

You weren’t sure if it was intentional or fate making a cruel joke out of your feelings, but Jun had been avoiding you. As much as he could be avoiding you in the span of a few hours, at least. 

“Wanna sit with me on the bus?” 

You can’t really tell what Vernon’s wearing. He’s sitting next to you on the curb in front of the bus, a pair of sparkly sunglasses resting atop of his nose. He’s wearing a yellow hat that matches the color of his shoes, but that doesn’t really go with any of the other pieces of his outfit. 

“Aren’t you gonna sit with Hao?” 

“Ah, I don’t know,” Vernon drinks from a styrofoam cup he has on his hand. It’s the same as yours, so it’s probably to-go coffee from the hotel’s restaurant. “He’s been trying to talk about some outfit ideas he had during the concert last night. He called it a revelation or something. I’m pretty sure Seungkwan could be of more use to that conversation than me.”

You don’t really want to sit with Vernon. And it’s not that you don’t enjoy his company, because out of everyone in the band, he’s always been the one you’re closest to. But somehow, you know sitting next to Vernon will prevent you from any chances of even talking to Jun in the next six hours until you reach the next spot. You’re not sure if he’s even actually avoiding you, but you don’t really want to be correct. 

“Are you kidding? You wear this kind of outfits and you think you don’t have a sense of fashion? Vern, if anything, you’ve always been the Mick Jagger amongst all of us.” 

“Okay, those stage outfits were chosen by Minghao, it wasn’t really me putting together those suits and - whatever he has me wearing all the time.” 

You roll your eyes, playfully. 

“Although, I guess I could use this chance to keep him from putting me in another sparkly overall like the one from last night.”

“But you were such a star! It looked pretty nifty if you ask me.” 

“Keep going and I’ll tell him to find the most ridiculous hats for our next concert, just you wait!”

The rest of the band starts walking out of the hotel, Chan’s laughter pulling your attention from Vernon. As they walk next to you, you decide to ignore Hoshi’s tiger print overalls and Mingyu’s conversation of how he had met and talked to George Harrison at the party once Joshua had walked away from him.

“I don’t believe George Harrison would ever like to be entertained by your presence, Gyu. There were definitely groovier people to be around last night.”

“It’s not my fault you decided talking to Seungcheol was more important than stickin’ around, we literally see the guy every day.”

“Hey, I’m your manager!” Seungcheol wines from the hotel door, walking behind a groggy Seungkwan.

“Yeah, we literally see you every day,” Mingyu retorts. He has one foot on the bus steps, only turning to argue with the eldest. “Don’t get me wrong, I love seeing you so often, with all your random hair-do’s.”

“Can it and get in, we’re late anyways. Everyone keep steppin’!”

“The only reason we’re late is because you couldn’t stop talking to your girlfriend on the phone,” Mingyu lets out before climbing in, somehow managing to avoid getting yelled at yet again. 

You get up after Vernon, following him into the bus as soon as Mingyu, Josh and Seungcheol had gotten in. You’d seen Seungkwan, Hoshi and Chan passing by, and quickly found them sitting together near a small kitchen area. 

The bus itself isn’t much different from others you’ve seen, with rows of faux leather seats set one after the other along the central aisle. All the way to the back there’s an area with what looks like a small bed, a door leading to a tight bathroom and a small kitchen space consisting of two cabinets and a microwave. And every single thing is either muted yellow or a dark orange, making the entire espace look probably smaller than it actually is. It’s comfortable enough, though. 

“Hey, Vern, come here,” Minghao calls from one of the seats. He’s resting his back against the window, with his feet on the couch and his knees pulled close to his chest. A small notepad rests on top of them, having only looked up from his sketches to greet the bassist. “Let me show you what I’ve been thinking of. I swear, the setting of the Moonwalker gave me so much clarity on what I want to put all of you guys in for the rest of the tour.” 

“Hao, give Josh a groovy Bob Dylan inspired hat!” 

“You wear the damn Bob Dylan inspired hat if you want, see how groovy it looks on your head.” 

Vernon looks at you to give you a small smile before sitting down next to Minghao as you walk past, stealing one of Hoshi’s snacks before plopping down on the seat behind him. You shift in your seat, hearing the slick material of the seat squeaking against the courness of your jeans. You quickly look at the small smiling daisies Minghao had painted with black markers all over the light surface, making for an interesting pattern when looked at from far away. Your fingers trace over the figures as you rest your head on the window, closing your eyes until you feel someone coming to sit right next to you. You had quickly placed your book on the seat when sitting down, but you find it on top of Jun’s lap as you see it’s him who’s by your side. 

“What an interesting thing to be reading!” He exclaims, looking at the beat up copy of On The Road. “You’re a Kerouac fan?” 

“You’ve read Kerouac?” You ask. 

Jun smiles. “Of course not,” he says, before breaking into a laugh. He doesn’t give you the book back, but turns it to read the back cover. “Read to me? It will keep us both entertained.” 

Without focusing too carefully on it, you can hear the distinct crisp sound of Joshua’s guitar coming from the front of the bus, and can make out the first notes of the Stairway to Heaven solo. It sounds better than you’ve heard him play, most likely the product of constant practice. But it all disappears when you turn to look at Jun. 

Smiling at you, Jun lets you straighten up on your seat before placing his head on your shoulder as he hands you the copy. You’re surprised by how familiar it feels, and feel your lips curling up at the memory of doing the exact same thing the night before. 

And you know that things have changed from the kiss, because now you’re not able to ignore the feeling in your chest that arises when Jun takes your hand in his. And you can only wonder if he feels the same, because he lets out a soft sigh the minute you tighten the grip, nuzzling his cheek against the fuzzy fabric of your corduroy jacket. 

Smiling at his touch, your eyes start glazing over the print as you begin to read. 

“I first met Dean not long after my wife and I split up…”

The dinner lounge of the second hotel is much fancier than the first one. 

The entire place looks like it’s been draped in velvet, every single ridge looking as smooth as a crease in the fabric. There’s a combination of wooden panels and wall-height mirrors adorning the walls, only interrupted by the golden frames of the windows. A dome rises on the center of the center, a thousand red roses painted in a mosaic of tinted glass, while the rest of the ceiling is covered in the exact same wood as the walls. The tables are all draped in expensive looking tablecloths, placed carefully under meticulously set tableware, and they’re accompanied by tufted chairs, all of them in matching red. The dark colors in the scheme makes the entire place look dim, despite all the chandeliers shining bright against up above the clients’ heads. There are candles decorating the tables, along with fresh roses matching the ones in the dome, but they serve more as a simple ambiance decoration than an actual light source.

And, even though the city they had been in had been just as big as the one they’re in now, and the budget had not changed in the slightest, the shiny grand piano that sits at the center of the small wooden stage at the back of the restaurant had caught Jun’s eyes as soon as you had walked in for dinner. 

It was supposed to be a group dinner, but Mingyu, Chan and Minghao had gone sight-seeing, Vernon had fallen asleep and Seungcheol had stayed back in his room to rest (and, probably, talk to his girlfriend on the phone while eating something from the room service). At the end, it’s dinner of five instead of a dinner of ten, and while it would have been nice to share it with everyone, the company you had was more than enough. 

“This place is groovy! Oh, Seungcheol went all out with this hotel,” Josh exclaims as you sit down at a table neighboring the windows, all five of you immediately drawn to the exterior scene. “I’d say he did an excellent job booking if it weren’t for the fact I’m rooming with Hoshi.”

“Hey!” The younger exclaims. “I’ll have you know I’m an excellent roommate. Best you’ll ever have, you’ll see.” 

“Yeah, I’ll start thinking that once you pick up your dirty socks from the floor after taking them off, that’s not groovy at all.”

“Jesus, can we not talk about Hoshi’s dirty socks while at the table, that’s fucking gross.”

“You’re just overreacting, and please just stop saying groovy,” Soonyoung says, rolling his eyes and picking up the pastel pink menu from the table, locking his eyes on the cardboard. “Anyways, this one burger looks way too nifty to pass it up.”

“I was thinking of ordering the same thing,” Seungkwan says, closing the menu. 

“Have you seen the kind of restaurant we’re in? Order a pasta, or a salad, not a plain burger, go with the groove.” 

“Do you think we’re Seungcheol, Joshua? If you had asked for his card like we told you, maybe we’d be buying pasta and wine for the five of us without you having to tell us about it!”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re scary when you’re angry?” Joshua asks, probably deciding on a burger as well as he imitates Seungkwan and places the menu back on the table. 

“Only sometimes,” Soonyoung responds, smiling. 

You’re not listening to their argument, though, with your chin resting over your hand and your gaze lost somewhere in the movement of a stranger. 

It’s funny how being in a completely different country, in a city a million miles away, there’s some sense of familiarity behind simply watching people walking by. You’re not sure if it’s just the mere action, or maybe a combination of the movement in a similarly urban setting, with the lights reflecting upon the crowd as a sort of kaleidoscopic filter, but it never feels entirely too different. 

“Do you want to play a game?” Jun asks, whispering right into your ear. He’s leaning close to your body, sitting between you and Joshua. You can make out the scent of his cologne as he scoots even closer to you to point to a stranger outside the window. “Like when we counted the number of headlights on the highway on our way here.”

You nod, words suddenly stuck on your throat as soon as you see Seungkwan looking at the both of you. Because truly, it was oh so very easy to get lost in the moment whenever Jun was around, and the thought has you smiling as soon as you notice. It’s oh so very easy to get lost in him. 

“Okay, we’ll make it interesting. Whoever wins buys the other a cherry cola!” he says, his voice still sounding just as soft. If he’s aware of Seungkwan’s stare, he doesn’t show it. Or maybe he just doesn’t care. “Let's spot all the people that look like they’re dressed by Minghao after looking at the Moonwalker, starting… now!”

But his words have you laughing, so deeply you can feel it in your chest as you throw your head back. He looks at you, a care-free smile etched all over your face, and he can’t resist the laugh that forms at the center of the stomach, completely imitating your actions as the rest of the guys simply observe. And it’s amazing, because somehow, you have found just enough comfort in the presence of each other to be able to forget about everyone else. It’s not shy smiles and nervous laughs when in public, but full on grins and bursts of laughter. 

The thing no one notices though, completely distracted by the boisterous laugh, is Jun placing his hand on your thigh under the table, thumb moving in delicate circles against the fabric of your jeans. He doesn’t spare a second thought on it, finding way too much comfort in your closeness to make it a conscious action. And you aren’t even surprised on how natural his touch feels by now, because, somehow, it feels like coming home. 

Or maybe they do, but they just smile at the sight. There’s something enthralling about watching two people falling in love, bit by bit, gesture by gesture. It’s a tell behind the warmth of a smile and the fondness of a look, and while it’s not entirely common, it’s too beautiful to disrupt. 

“Josh, have you really been looking at your reflection this entire time?” 

It’s late, and everyone but you and Jun have left the restaurant by the time the piano player arrives.

You’ve long since finished your meal, having shared a large plate of spaghetti and meatballs after Jun had said he wasn’t even that hungry anyways. You had ordered two cups of coffee and a shared berry panna cotta, way too lost in making conversation about everything and anything to actually notice the passing of time. In reality, it’s only when the coffee has run cold and the musician has started playing that you notice an hour has passed since the guys had left for their rooms. 

The song is not one you recognize, but apparently does, judging from the movement of his fingers against the table. He’s looking at the musician while he runs his fingers on the tablecloth like it’s some sort of invisible piano, making sure to get every single movement right in a tempo that perfectly matches the one that’s being played. You’re not sure if he notices, but his body has begun to sway ever so slightly, somehow matching the movement of his fingers.

The place is the same, yet it feels like a completely different one, even when the only thing that has changed is the music. It’s almost atemporal, like it could be night and day at the exact same time, as if it was simply something out of a dream. 

“Do you know this song?” 

Jun nods. He keeps his eyes on the musician, and a part of you wonders if it’s because he wishes that were him. 

“Yeah, it’s one of my favorites,” he answers, smiling. “I used to play it when I was growing up, back when I was learning. I remember how excited my parents were when I finally got the movements right after years of practice. I guess a part of their excitement that day was a part of what made me fall so in love with music that I decided it was what I wanted to do with my life.” 

“How did you learn to play the piano? Seungcheol says you’re really good, and yet, you’ve never played with me around.”

“My mom’s a piano teacher. She used to give classes at this one prestigious school in our neighborhood, and I would hide behind the kitchen door and listen whenever she had a student,” Jun says. “I always liked how it sounded, so one night I just sat down on the piano and started playing. My mom started giving me classes the very next day.” 

“And what about composing? How did that start?” 

You had ordered a refill for your coffee and drink from your cup as Jun starts talking. 

“I don’t know, maybe with school, or maybe just with books in general. I was always dreaming, thinking about stories. Sometimes I couldn’t get the ones I was learning about out of my mind, and before I knew it, there were so many scenarios being born in my head that I simply had no idea what to do with them.” 

“So you started writing them.” 

Jun nods. “After some time, they started turning into songs. I would be looking at the lyrics and would suddenly start hearing a certain tune playing from the back of my mind. It was only a matter of time until I realized what I kept writing were songs rather than just tales, and they started meaning something more to me. Music makes the world go round, but it’s the lyrics that give it meaning.” 

“Said like a true poet,” you say, a soft laugh leaving your lips as you raise your cup to then once more. “I can tell your lyrics mean a lot to you. I know it probably sounds a bit silly, but I can feel it, you know? The emotion behind them. The words come alive before they’re even in my mouth.”

“Sometimes I can’t really tell what I’m feeling until I turn it into a song. The words come from a place so deep inside I can’t reach them on my own, but have to turn onto a pen and a piece of paper to know what they are,” he finally looks away from the musician. He’s still smiling, softly, gently. “It's a little weird. They feel both so deeply personal yet completely different from myself, as if the Jun that exists in the songs is a completely different person from the Jun in the real world.”

You fall quiet. You try to make sense of Jun’s words in your head as he reaches to grab a hold of your hand, but they’re way too beautiful, too meaningful, for you to tamper with. So you feel your heart grow warm at the passion behind them, looking at the man in front of you like he had just painted the stars upon the night sky. 

“Will you dance with me?” 

“Jun, no one is dancing.” 

“And when have you let that stop you?”

Setting the napkin over the table, Jun gets up from his seat. He stretches his arm out at you, offering his hand, his silver rings reflecting the light upon its touch. And he looks at you, eyes sparkling brighter than ever under the restaurant’s delicate lightning, completely absorbed in the way your body imitates his movements.

You let Jun lead you through the sea of tables, all the way to where the little stage is located. There’s a small space that has been left between the stage and the neighboring tables, and you wonder if maybe dancing is what it’s meant for, despite not being used for it. But Jun is quick to replace your thoughts until they’re only about him, pulling you close to his chest and letting his hand rest against your waist. 

“Just focus on me and I’ll focus on you,” he whispers, moving to talk right against your ear. “Hold me a bit closer and forget about everything else.” 

Pulled flush against his frame, you let your hands fall on his back, closing your eyes as you allow him to sway you to the rhythm of the music. He moves in a way that almost has you wondering if maybe you are flying, but you’re not sure if it’s because of his dancing or if it’s just because it’s him. 

You recognize the song the minute Jun starts singing the words. It’s soft, so much you wouldn’t have heard him if you hadn’t been standing so close to him, basically hugging him flush against yourself. It’s Love Is (The Tender Trap) by Frank Sinatra, and you smile at the similarity between the lyrics and the feeling in your stomach. 

He gives you a twirl and it’s like there are a thousand butterflies flying within you, knowing there really is no getting out, because there is no denying something that manages to make you feel so wonderful. He smiles at you and you’re sure you’re falling in love with Wen Junhui, thinking of the way his kiss had made you tingle once upon a starry night. 

“Keep on steppin’, you’re falling behind!” 

Jun laughs, turning back to face you. The breeze ruffles his hair as he moves, thin strands falling onto his forehead. The sky is a bright blue and the sun is shining with all its might, but Jun’s light blue button up and beige bell-bottoms still rustle in the wind. 

“It’s not my fault you walk that fast,” you say, quickening your pace to catch up with him. He moves smoothly as you meet him, circling your waist with his arm and holding you next to him as you walk. 

“Ah, that’s more like it,” he mumbles as he resumes his walk. His pace is not as fast, looking so much more at ease as he looks around at his surroundings. 

It had been Jun’s idea to spend your free day walking around the city, after Mingyu and the rest of his expedition crew had talked about their experience over breakfast. Some of the other guys had left earlier, excited about going to whatever stores they had seen on the bus before reaching the hotel, leaving you and Jun to simply stroll around and see what you find. 

“This is nice,” he mentions. “It’s been a while since I felt this relaxed.” 

“It’s nice you can feel relaxed in the middle of a tour,” you say, giggling. “But I get what you mean, having a break in the schedule, even if we’re only starting.”

“I think you’re the only rockstar I’ve met that actually uses the word schedule in their daily vocabulary.”

“Yeah, but that’s because I’m the only ‘rockstar’ you’ve met. I mean, besides… Seungkwan. Honestly, he’s the most rockstar material out of all of us.”

“Okay, Barbra Streisand.”

“You have not met Barbra Streisand!” 

“In my dreams.”

“Oh, I didn’t know those counted.”

The boulevard is lively. There’s people strolling up and down on both sides of the street, very much like you and Jun, with their pace and actions revealing there’s not much hurry behind their walks. Cars of all models and colors drive through the street, your walk having a varied background orchestra composed of revving engines, passing conversations and the occasional music that was audible from the entrance of some business. It made for the typical city noise, not much different from the one at home, but somehow perfectly fitting for the particularities of the sight. 

The two of you walk while holding the other, occasionally bumping shoulders with some other pedestrian when not paying particular attention. There’s truly not much on either of your minds behind the wonder of getting to know yet another city and enjoying the warmth of a sunny Thursday evening in each other’s company.

“Is there anything you wanna do?” Jun asks, slowing down his pace but not completely stopping. 

“Not right now,” you answer. “We could stop somewhere for a soda or something later, if you want. You know, since you won yesterday and all.” 

“Let’s go in here, then,” Jun says, moving his hand from your waist to your hand, softly pulling on you to the side. 

You quickly follow him as he walks inside one of the stores, never losing the grip on his hand. The front is small, walls painted red and a bright purple signboard hanging over the glass doors, reading Vintage Records and Books, along with a few music notes that look hand drawn over the surface in multiple colors. There are crates full of books and vinyls, the covers of all of them a bit faded by the sun or scraped over the passage of time. At a first glance you can identify some Johnny Cash copies alongside the assorted records, what must have been a bright green cover now looking surprisingly muted. 

And once you walk inside, the interior is just as lively as the outside. The place is covered in shelves, littered with books on one side of the store and with records in the other, with small placards dividing the shelves and categorizing the products. You can tell it’s a wide variety, with hundreds upon hundreds of colorful covers composing a contrast with the burnt purple of the walls. There are horizontal lines painted all across the walls in a bright green and an almost creamy white, which is replicated in a triangle patterned rug of the exact same colors, resting in the middle of the store. 

Among the shelves, there’s an assortment of indoor plants hanging from the ceiling in bright green ceramic pots, along with a few small trees located between some of the shelves themselves. On the rare vacant spaces in the walls there are band posters or book quotes, some of them autographed and some of them pasted one over the other with washed out tape. 

It feels oddly warm inside the shop, and you wonder if it’s merely because of the way the light breaks in from the tall windows up front. There’s a faint scent of flowers that reaches your nose as soon as you walk in, mixing in with the smell of paper and wood. And it’s heavenly.

“Hey, welcome!” Says someone from behind the bright pink counter. He looks around Jun’s age, with a long mane of dark brown hair that goes below his shoulders. He’s wearing a black hat and a green jacket, grinning at the two of you over the pages of a magazine. “Let me know if you see something you’re down with!” 

“It smells nice in here,” Jun tells you, but he must have spoken loud enough for the man to hear, because his grin grows in size. 

“Thanks, it’s home-made potpourri! I make it myself when there aren’t as many customers coming in,” he says, gesturing to a few jars displayed on a small counter. A few minutes ago, you wouldn’t think it was actually possible for someone to smile so big. “It’s for sale too, and it works really well on large spaces! Looks pretty groovy when it’s on display, if I do say so myself.” 

Jun smiles back, walking over to one of the tall stands where a bright orange sign announces a deal on the records.

“Oh, if you buy one of those, you can take a book from this bin right here for free,” the man says. You can’t make out the letters in his name tag from a distance, but you’re almost sure they start with an S. “You can try them out on that player over there, see if it’s nifty. They’re all second hand, but the quality’s off the hook.” 

You look around as Jun’s fingers graze over the records, flicking them so quick you’re not sure if he’s actually reading the title before discarding them. You hadn’t noticed the man had a record playing in the turntable he had signaled to, quickly recognizing the guitar solo of Jimi Hendrix’s Love or Confusion. 

“Hey, wanna get this Bob Dylan one for Josh? See if he likes the hat?” Jun asks, holding a record in his hand without turning back at you. “Maybe there’s a Kerouac book in that bin you can take with you. You know, for the next bus ride - oh, this one’s groovy!”

“Oh, of course you’d pick a Barbra Streisand record.”

“Yeah, she’s my best friend!” Jun giggles. “You know, besides from you. And Seungcheol, but he doesn’t really count.” 

“I’ll keep your secret, don’t worry. He won’t know you like me better.”

“A lot better.” 

You spend hours browsing the shop, laughing at the silly jokes made by the cashier (whose name is Seokmin) and talking about pasts spent together and pasts spent apart, conversations sewn together by a smile. You had even slow-danced to a couple Elvis songs, all while resting your head against Jun’s chest as Seokmin clapped at the two of you for, as he had said it, resembling a romantic scene from one of his favorite movies. 

And you’re not surprised at how familiar it feels, because in the last few days, Jun had come to mean much more to you than anything you could have ever thought. If you were as much of a hopeless romantic as he was, you’d even think it’s because your conexion runs even deeper than the simple process of falling for a friend, but you merely smile as the thought begins to form inside your head. And you laugh at how much it sounds like one of his songs. 

Because there’s as much beauty in the way he smiles as there is in the way it makes you feel. 

The sun’s beginning to set by the time you and Jun leave the record shop. The wind has gotten colder and the breeze has grown stronger, but as Jun tugs you close to his side, you don’t think you’ve ever felt warmer. 

He’s holding just as many records as you’re holding books, letting you make all the picks from the bin once he had purchased his vinyls, along with a jar of Seokmin’s home-made potpourri. 

His hand searches for yours as soon as you step outside.

“Can’t believe we’re almost there.”

The walk back to the hotel is surprisingly quick. 

Jun had been humming the melody to a song Seokmin had played back when you were at the shop, adding a slight bounce to his step as the pitch in his voice rose and fell with the beat of the song. He had smiled the entire way back, occasionally stopping his hum to point at the colors in the sky or their effects on your shadows on the ground, never failing to look at the smaller details that worked together in one beautiful, cohesive picture. 

But it still feels so much quicker than it had been the other way around, almost seems shorter, as if it had been a different path altogether.

Maybe it’s because you’re not as distracted by the storefront and the other passerbys, or maybe it’s just the feeling of bathing in the setting sun when making your way back that somehow makes the entire thing seem shorter. Jun had stopped to get a pair of pastries and two cups of coffee at a small bakery you hadn’t noticed earlier but went unaverted once the signs lit up, which now await inside a small paper bag and in two paper cups, respectively. As you sip from one of the cups, you think it’s the best coffee you’ve had in a long while. 

Jun suggests yet another game on the way back, making you smile as he tries to locate every single red platform shoe worn by a woman over 5’0”, which, surprisingly, aren’t really that many. And you should have guessed from the moment he had said it, but he was just trying to let you win (because, after all, he had won the last two games and just had to pay the coke back). 

“Ah, you’re getting lucky with your pick!” 

“You were the one that chose what we’d look for!” 

“Just let it be our secret,” he says, turning to wink in your direction. 

You can feel the coolness of the breeze nipping at your nose when you finally reach the hotel, walking through the glass doors with Jun following close behind. He still hasn’t let go of your hand. 

“Do you want to get dinner?” You ask. You can smell the sugar and the cinnamon from the pastries, and your mouth begins to water. “There’s this other pasta dish on the menu that sounds just as good as the one we had yesterday.” 

Jun purses his lips, giving a slight squeezing to your hand. “Let’s get room service, I want to show you something.” 

He starts walking towards the elevator, moving slowly and letting you admire the pastel green lobby in all of its glory. There’s some faint jazz music playing as you walk through the lobby, which you hadn’t noticed until then. A big tree rises from the center of the room, matching some smaller ones that are perched next to the deep green tufted couches and complimenting the flower arrangements that have been used as decorations in both the small coffee tables and the bar at the reception. It’s a slightly different vibe than the one from the dining hall, but somehow, both of them look just as fancy. 

“What is it?” You ask. 

“You’ll see.”

“Can I get a clue?”

“No, you’re going to help me finish it.”

“Please don’t tell me you also collect those freaky deaky puzzles Chan likes to put together in his free time.”

Jun giggles, shaking his head as you reach the elevator. “Ew, the anatomy ones? No, no way.” 

The way up to Jun’s room is spent with him trying to guess the elevator music by singing random lyrics and seeing which one sounds best. Not that he got a single one right, but it was certainly entertaining to watch him try. When you finally reach the 10th floor, Jun is singing the lyrics to Cher’s Where Do You Go to a jazz melody very much similar to the one from the lobby, and you’re sure he’s only doing it to make you smile. 

“Bienvenue to my humble abode,” Jun mutters as he opens the door to his room, making sure to bow down and open his arm to signal the room, completing the entire gesture with a short giggle. “I escaped having Hoshi as a roommate so I have the room all to myself.” 

“And you have Seungkwan’s piano,” you mention as you walk inside, pointing to the small electronic piano that was carefully positioned next to the window. “Does he know?”

“No, I stole it from the van last night,” he answers, laughing and plopping onto the bed. “Oh, I’m so tired!”

The room is not too different from yours; a muted orange wallpaper matching the fuzzy carpet. Both twin beds in Jun’s room are covered in a dandelion yellow duvet, one of them holding all of his luggage while Jun rests on the other one (the one he must have slept in last night, closest to the window). There’s a small television on the vanity, the box a combination of bright beige plastic and faux wood, surprisingly going along with the white lamps that stand on both sides of it. 

“What is it that you wanted to show me?” You ask, coming to sit in one of the chairs next to the vanity. They’re big, tufted, and the color matches with the one of the duvets. The chair is not the most comfortable, but as long as the bed is, you don’t really have to worry about it. 

Jun’s purchases lay next to him on the bed, Barbra Streisand’s Stoney End sitting on top of the pile. He had bought five records, four for himself and one for you (though he had refused to tell you which one it was, insisting it would be a surprise). You had selected five books to match his purchase, including a copy of Ray Bradbury’s The Martian Chronicles, which Jun had suggested you take because of the colorful cover. 

“I’ve been working on a song,” he mutters, still facing down on the bed. The words come out muffled, but they’re still audible. “I think you’ll like it.”

You let out a laugh. “I like all of your songs.” 

“This one’s special,” he says, moving so he’s resting on his shoulders. His hair has gotten a bit disheveled, falling all over his face as his lips curl up in a hazy smile. “I’m working on the melody, too. I just need to hear your opinion about it.” 

“You’ve been inspired,” you comment, reaching over to the vanity where Jun had placed the pastries bag. You take a roll into your hand and notice it’s still warm. 

Jun winks before sitting up. “You’d know all about it.” 

“All I do is sing your songs,” you say, breaking a piece of bread and tucking it into your mouth. It melts as soon as it meets your tongue. “You’re the artist behind the art. Should I start calling you Da Vinci?” 

“I like Monet better. I’m a huge fan of the Impression Sunrise, even got a poster of it up in my room back at home,” Jun answers. He moves so he’s sitting down on the edge of the bed next to Seungkwan’s piano, grabbing a small notebook from the bedside table. You recognize it instantly, because it’s the one he always carries with him. He pats the space next to himself. “Here, I’ll show you.” 

You leave your things on the bed next to all his luggage, books carefully propped against a faux leather duffle bag. Jun takes a piece of the cinnamon bread as soon as you sit down next to him, moving closer as he does, a whiff of his cologne reaching your nose. The duvet is of fine linen, surprisingly soft against your fingertips as you place your hands at your sides. 

“I started writing it the other day,” he says, opening his notebook and placing it on his laps. You try to take a peek at it, but the (messily written) words aren’t readable from a distance. It looks beautiful though, fine lines of black ink rising like a carefully painted artwork on the thick, creamy white paper. “When you fell asleep on the bus.” 

“It’s your fault for making me read to you!” You laugh, moving and bumping his shoulder with yours. “And, in my defense, the top of your head was extremely comfortable.” 

“Yeah it’s like a portable pillow,” he jokes. “Maybe I should start advertising it.”

“Bet Seungkwan would take you up on it, he got asleep on the bus too!” 

There is something about Jun that makes everything seem lighter, helping the seconds run fast against the clock. 

“Here, I’ll show you the melody,” he says, straightening his back and placing his fingers on the keyboard. The assortment of rings he’s wearing had felt cool against your fingers. “I stayed up all night to come up with it. I haven’t finished the lyrics yet, but the music is already here.” 

“Is that why you asked me for help? Are you gonna fall asleep on me?” 

Jun smiles, but doesn’t turn to look at you. “No, not really,” he mutters. 

He plays a key, but doesn’t give it much thought. It’s a quick, crisp sound, not really one that’s a part of a movement, even less of a song. Maybe it’s a reflex, like the clicking of the pen had once been, a mere outlet for his nervousness. He keeps his eyes set on his fingers as he speaks, not really directing his words at you but surely saying them because you’re there to hear them. 

His voice is soft, almost shy. “It’s because you’re the inspiration behind it.” 

And he doesn’t say anything else, but lets his fingers graze upon the keys as he starts playing. You’re not exactly sure what you’re thinking of, mind and heart running a thousand beats per second as you feel it thumping against your chest. There’s a feeling growing in your stomach, and whether it's due to adrenaline or some deeper, more complex feeling remains a mystery. 

You close your eyes as Jun plays, each note igniting fireworks in your head. The music flows into your ears like honey, setting light upon the darkest places of your mind, overflowing your senses with Jun’s interpretation. Every single note sounds just like him, as if he’s becoming the music as he’s making it. His fingers run over the keys in the same way an artist’s brush glazes over a canvas, immersing itself in their creation to a point their creation is all they are. He has become a song, a beautifully crafted sonata, making your heart feel warmer with every moment. You know it’s because the song itself is beautiful - but so is he, and that translates into every single sound, every single feeling. 

You let out a gasp as he begins to sing; it’s broken, a few lines here and there. You can tell it’s the bits he’s finished, the ones he’s comfortable with, leaving everything like a game of fill in the blanks. He had sung to you before, either in the song demos or in some practices where he had been finishing a song nearby - but his voice had never sounded sweeter. Your heart tugs against your chest as you listen to him, words coming alive in your head like the ones in the pages of a romance novel. 

“Pretty eyed, pirate smile, you’ll marry a music man…”

Your hands ball up into fists, scrunching the soft duvet as you try to keep your eyes closed, no matter how much your eyelids are threatening to flutter open. You don’t want to see anything that isn’t him, or his voice; don’t want to feel anything that isn’t the sudden warmth that rises all over your body, making you feel like you’re flying - 

And he stops, hands suddenly moving away from the keyboard after a faulty note. 

“Stop distracting me!” He says, laughing as his cheeks grow red in embarrassment. He hands his hands on his lap, fingers absentmindedly fumbling with the rings he has on. 

You don’t open your eyes, joining him in his laughter and falling on your back onto the bed. You bring your hands to your face, hiding behind them as your laughter grows louder. 

“I wasn’t doing anything!” You answer. 

You feel the space next to you dip as Jun imitates your movement, resting onto his back. His notebook has fallen to the floor, open in half, but he doesn’t notice. He brings his hand to your face, taking your own and moving it away from your face. He props himself up on his elbow, connecting your fingers over the duvet in the space that separates the two of you. 

“Did you like it?” He asks, words falling from his lips between jolts of laughter. His voice is soft, and it feels like velvet against your ears. “You know, before I messed up.” 

“It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard,” you whisper, opening your eyes and rolling to your side to look back at him. “Did you really write it because of me?”

Jun nods. He’s smiling, looking at you fondly as he searches for the words inside his head. “You’re a song in and out of yourself.” 

He doesn’t move as you stare into his eyes. Looking at him, you’re suddenly reminded of the night he had kissed you - the same constellations that had shined high above your heads now reflected in his eyes, drawing you deeper into his spell. You feel like you’re falling, the entire world falling as you lay on the bed, his hand on yours the only thing pulling you back into reality. It’s as if the world around you changes every single time you’re with Jun, spinning wildly out of orbit and transforming into an unknown fantasy, with the only sure thing being the way his eyes come to rest upon you. You’re not sure if anything else exists apart from Jun, because suddenly he’s all you can see. All you can feel. 

“And I think I’ve fallen in love with you,” he continues. He keeps his eyes on you as he speaks, as if trying to assure you his words are only for you to hear. “Or maybe I already was, but only just noticed. I hear your voice in every word, see your face every time I turn around with your name etched deep in my heart. I don’t think I could get you out of my head no matter how hard I tried. And I don’t think I would ever want to.” 

You hadn’t noticed there were tears forming in your eyes until one fell down on your hand, ice cold against the warm skin. You open your mouth, searching for words deep down in your heart, but Jun shakes his head. 

“Just… let me say it, you can go after,” he says. “I’ve been dreaming of love my entire life. As far as I can remember, I’ve always dreamed of feeling it. It wasn’t just something out of a fairytale or a novel, not even a dream coming out to a song. It’s been the theme behind all my songs and the happy ending of all my stories. And never would I have thought it would feel like this. Never would I have thought those dreams would become you, but you’re there, in every single word. In every single thought.” 

He moves, fingers caressing the back of your hand as he gives it a squeeze. He moves his hand, placing yours over his chest, directly over his heart. Although faintly, you’re sure you can feel it beat. 

And you move forward, your other hand on his neck, connecting his lips with yours. It’s warm, and you can make out a vague saltness that is no doubt a product of your tears. But they are long forgotten, the feeling of Jun’s lips against yours setting your body on fire as his hands come to rest upon your skin. You can feel your every vein light up as you move as close to him as you can manage, the space between you always weighing upon the both of you no matter how much you try to reduce it, because the feeling of your bodies pressed against each other is one you simply can’t get enough of. 

He opens his eyes, eyelids fluttering open at the need to see you; to set the final piece of the puzzle in his mind. It’s a puzzle that looks, sounds and moves like you, composed of a love that burns too bright to ignore. 

And as he looks at you, resting comfortably on the soft linen sheets, he’s sure he has never seen such a beautiful sight.

The next few days go by in a flash. 

The days start early, as early as the sun goes up and you have breakfast on some terrace with Jun by your side, with the sun reflected upon his skin like a golden veil. They’re spent in jolts of laughter with your friends, soaking in the sun when sight-seeing in all the cities you’ve visited. They’re spent carelessly singing in the bus, with Joshua and Chan backing up the vocals with loud strums of their guitars, not really caring about beat, or tune, or whoever may be listening. They’re spent getting to know the world with the people that make the entire thing worth it, smiling and laughing along. They’re spent in sleepless nights on stages or someone’s backyard, twisting and turning in Jun’s hand as he moves you to the rhythm of the music. They’re spent in him watching you from a balcony, dancing and singing along to the crowds adoring your every move, finding himself lost in your voice. 

And they’re spent in composing, with Jun finding inspiration in the smallest of your movements, lyrics suddenly being born in the crack of a smile and the fondness behind a look. 

By the time the song is finally ready to be sung, he’s still a bit nervous. It feels like a deja vu, with him tapping quickly upon a faux tiled floor. 

He rests his back against a wall, standing next to a closed door. He tries to move out of the way as people pass in a hurry, carrying equipment or reading from lists, simply looking around as he tries to count on the passing of time. He tries to maintain a steady beat with his foot, counting along in his head as he reads from the piece of paper he’s holding. Trying not to think about the sounds of a growing crowd, he can feel the paper crumpling in his hand, thinking that his grip on it might be a little too tight. Nonetheless, he can’t loosen it up, no matter how much he wants to. 

Night has fallen, and he can see the stars from the small window that rises at the top of the wall in front of him. There’s some moonlight breaking in, lighting up the ground and the glass detailings on the colorful tiles. For a second, he thinks of how familiar it feels, to be able to see a picture where there is none, and he smiles. Backstage or not, the night looks the same all around. 

He lets out a big breath, moving his free hand around as he does until he hears the door next to him flutter open. A laughing Chan walks out from it, followed by Josh and Mingyu, all of them with their guitars strapped down and ready to be played. They pat Jun on the back before they follow the small arrows on the ground, walking in the direction of the stage. 

He runs through the lyrics in his head as the rest of the band follows, you walking behind while trying to fix the back of your jacket. Minghao had suggested some fringes on the sleeves to add some “movement” but they had proven a bit impractical when getting stuck whenever you moved your arms. 

“Hey,” Jun says, grabbing your attention. “Do you have a moment?” 

You smile. “What are you doing back here? I thought you and Cheol were gonna watch from the balcony.”

“We are,” he confirms, nodding his head. “I just wanted to say hi.”

His voice is shaking as he speaks, as much as he tries to hide it. You take his free hand in yours, stopping his movements in midair, giving his fingers a slight squeeze as you attempt to bring him some comfort. 

“Are you nervous?” You ask. He simply nods, smiling when he feels you tightening your grip on his hand. “Is it because of the song?” 

“I know it’s a bit silly,” he comments. Despite holding the piece of paper, he runs his hand through his combed-back hair, causing a few strands to fall messily over his forehead. It looks so much better than when it’s gelled up. “But it feels different this time around. I don’t know, It feels a lot more personal somehow.” 

Bringing his hand up to your face, you give it a kiss. He sighs at the feeling. 

“They’re gonna love it, Jun,” you say. 

He smiles at you. “As long as you love it, that’s more than enough for me.” 

“Well, you already know that I do,” you giggle. “I’ll always love every single song you write.”

Laughing with you, he pulls you to his chest as he envelops you in a hug. Sighing against you, he tucks his face in your neck as he feels you hugging him back. You smile, feeling him press a light kiss on the exposed skin. He smells of sugar and cinnamon. 

“Leave them breathless,” he whispers as he breaks apart from the embrace. 

He kisses you one more time, quickly pecking the top of your head before he walks away. You give him one last smile, running your fingers down his arm as you begin to part.  

You walk in opposing directions, and Jun quickens his pace as he climbs the stairs leading to the balcony. He can hear the crowd growing with every step he takes, feeling a knot forming in his stomach as he moves his fingers around in an attempt to control his nerves. The way up seems familiar, consisting in dimly lit hallways and semi-peeled off posters on the walls, and he doesn’t even notice a few minutes have passed by the time he finally reaches the balcony. 

It’s not the Moonwalker, but the place shines just as bright. He greets Seungcheol, placing a palm on his friend’s back as he comes to stand next to him. 

“Hey, I was about to go looking for you,” he says, as a form of greeting. He smiles at his friend and motions to the public below with his beer bottle. “Great turn out tonight! I think this is our biggest venue yet, it’s amazing! I was talking to some guy over there, and he says a story is being printed on the newspapers about how successful the tour has been so far.” 

Jun smiles. “They deserve it. They’re an amazing group.”

“And they have amazing songs,” Seungcheol comments, nudging Jun’s shoulder with his own. 

Jun sets his eyes on the empty stage just as the lights begin to fall. A limelight focuses on the center of it, right where the standing microphone rises high among the sea of instruments. You walk out from the side with the rest of the band following close behind, and just like his very own, everyone’s eyes are on you. 

“We have a very special song for you tonight,” you say. You look up in the direction of the balcony, and Jun feels his heart beat loudly against his chest when you wink at him. “We hope you enjoy the show.” 

A breath gets caught in his throat when Seungkwan starts playing, fingers delicately grazing over the keyboard of his piano. He can feel Seungcheol’s hand coming to rest on his shoulder, giving him a gentle squeeze, but all he can focus on is you. 

It’s always been that way, and the feeling on his chest lets him know it always will. It feels like a thousand butterflies finally setting flight. 

He smiles when you begin to sing, forgetting about everything else. The world around him stops existing, and just as the words start leaving your lips, he lets himself go. Because he had spent his entire life dreaming of this moment, thinking about the feeling being born in his chest. And he’s happy he’s waited, because it feels better than he could have ever imagined. 

Completely shaking off his nerves, he closes his eyes and lets out a breath. 

Hold me closer tiny dancer… 

[deppsessed]

Good Luck Charm

Hollywood Vampire Series part I

Pairing: Johnny Depp x Reader

Summary: Your lifelong dream to meet your favourite actor, Johnny Depp has finally come true. What happens when you finally come face to face with and manage to impress him?

Feedback is much appreciated

Johnny Depp. Even thinking about his name makes my heart skip a little beat. I’ve been a fan of his for years, seen just about every single one of his movies (and know just about every word in them too). When the Hollywood Vampires had announced their latest world tour a few months back, there was no doubt about me trying to get VIP tickets, but I’d somehow managed to end up with something better. My best friend, Alex, works at the concert venue, and for my birthday, had given me an ‘access all areas’ pass for the show. Not only would I be seeing the concert, but I had full access to backstage. But the thing I was still trying to wrap my head around was the fact that I’d be meeting Johnny Depp.

I’d been thinking about it for months. What was I going to wear? What was I going to say to him? Or would I find a way to make a complete idiot of myself?

Today was going to be the day that I’d finally find out. After days of planning out my outfit, I’d decided on something a little grungy, a pair of ripped skinny jeans, a Jim Morrison t-shirt (to maybe grab Johnny’s attention), leather jacket, and a pair of Dr Martens boots. With it being a Hollywood Vampires concert, it only felt appropriate to dress up a little vampy.

“Y/N! Hey! Hi!”

It’s Alex, and she has her arms open ready to hug me.

“How do I look?” I ask once I pull back and give a little twirl to show off my outfit.

“Like you’re about to catch Johnny Depp off guard and take his breath away.” 

I snorted. “Very funny.” 

“Don’t act as if that wasn’t the answer that you were wanting!”

I have to hand it to her, she knows me well, but she has been my best friend since we were kids.

“I hardly slept last night thinking about it…”

Alex laughs and shakes her head. I know she’ll find it amusing and pretty typical of me.

“But now you’re here, I can give you the whole backstage tour. Come right this way.” 

She ushers me towards a door with the lettering “Artists and personnel only”. After a couple of minutes of walking down one corridor, it opens up to a giant concrete looking area. I’m shown places like the wardrobe room, where all of the band's clothes are already hanging up, ready for the show later. The band's green room, where there are bottles of alcohol ready to be opened. The highlight had been seeing the rack of Johnny’s guitars and better yet, the marked out dressing rooms for the band members. The pre-show buzz was starting to take hold with people running about the place in all sorts of different directions.

By the time that we’re done, it’s time to go to meet and greet. Alex escorts me back down the long concrete corridor, to the meet and greet hall. 

“Good luck! And promise you’ll tell me everything later.” 

The room is already teaming with a couple of hundred fans, all waiting for Johnny, Alice and Joe to come on through. I’m not feeling nervous, but instead, excited. The room erupts into a fit of screams as the band enters the room. My eyes instantly look onto Johnny. He’s wearing one of his usual edgy Hollywood Vampires outfits with layers of jewellery. He’s even more handsome in person. It doesn’t even bother me that I’m at the back of the line, it means more time to be able to look at, and soak up the feeling of being in the same room as him. It’s endearing watching him interact with his fans because he takes his time and indulges every single one of them. I know that when he eventually gets to me, it’s going to be worth it.

Needless to say, when I’m next (and decidedly last) in line, he’s looking a little worse for wear, as if he’s between needing a good drink, a cigarette and a nap… or maybe all three at once, somehow. I hadn’t figured out what my first words to him were going to be, but I wanted to be memorable. Not just for being the last fan. But for not fitting into all the other conversations that I’ve been overhearing him having. I’m not going to be starstruck, he’s only another person.

“You know, if you want to take a moment for yourself to smoke a cigarette or have a drink, you can. I’m not going to go screaming from the rooftops about it.” 

Right away, he’s raising an eyebrow at me, as if he’s uncertain by the invitation. 

“Honestly, it’s fine. I’ve got all day.” 

I can see the little bit of reluctance disappear from his face, and while he doesn’t take up the offer of a drink right away, he does reach into his pocket for his rolling tobacco -- despite all of the no-smoking signs around the room, nobody is going to be telling him off. 

“Do you smoke too?” He asks, offering me the packet. I shake my head and shrug my shoulders. 

“I wouldn’t put that stuff into my lungs willingly.” I can see his eyebrow-raising again, he obviously isn’t going to retaliate with anything. I let him light up his cigarette and move for the next subject change. I’ve overheard people telling him how much they love the album, and the fact that they do a mixture of original stuff and covers.

 “I love the album, you know, Heroes is my favourite cover because you get to sing…” What I haven’t heard once is the suggestion of other songs. “School’s Out is good, but Poison would sound amazing with you and Joe on guitar. I keep thinking how something by the Rolling Stones would sound cool too, like, ‘Paint it Black’ or ‘Sympathy for the Devil’, kind of feels like it would be Alice’s kind of aesthetic.” 

I’m not sure where the apparent confidence is coming from, but I’m happy to run with it, especially when Johnny seems to be visibly impressed by it. His lips pull into a grin, clearly amused by the last part of my statement and what I’m trying to get at.

“I wouldn’t be too fooled by the gothic exterior, he’s a softie, deep down.” He pauses to take a drag on his cigarette. “I’ve always wanted to do something by The Doors… A vamped up version of Light my Fire or something.” Ah, so he has spotted the t-shirt.  

“Good choice.” I’m hardly going to tell him that there are plenty other songs out there that I think they could do better, but then again, maybe he’s secretly testing me and wants me to. “Break on Through to the other side would sound even better.” 

He’s impressed, the way that his eyes light up really shows it. I can see his mouth open, ready for a response for me, when one of the band's security interjects and places a hand on his shoulder.

“Johnny, I’m sorry, but we’re already running ahead of schedule here-”

He scowls, evidently irritated at the fact he’s being told to move things along. 

“I’m sorry,” He pauses and pushes his hand through his hair. “But what are your plans after the show? I’d love to see you at the party and maybe buy you a drink...”

Is this a dream? I’ve got to be dreaming. This isn’t happening.

“I’d love that.” I’m trying to keep my composure and not show my excitement, or the fact I’m freaking out on the inside. 

“Great -- what’s your name?”

“Y/N.” 

He holds his hand out to me to shake. “I’m Johnny.” 

--- 

The music is loud, or maybe my ears are still ringing a little bit from the concert. The band had been simply incredible! I swore that Johnny had been looking right at me at a few points, and even going as far as to wink. Tonight was shaping up to be something.

Johnny had stuck to his promise and put my name on the guestlist for the show after-party. I was still trying to get my head around what was happening. I was at a Hollywood Vampires after-party, and it was everything that I had imagined it to be. The place was decked out in black and red decor, and fittingly playing old classic rock from the speakers. I feel like I’m standing out a little bit. Everyone seems to know each other one way or another and are engrossed in some kind of conversation. 

“You made it,” The voice nearly makes me jump out of my skin. Johnny Depp is standing right behind me. “I didn’t have any other invites,” As if I would have been anywhere else. “The show was amazing, by the way, you were great.” He’s probably had people coming up to tell him all night, but it still feels appropriate.  

“How do you feel about meeting the band and then I’ll buy you that drink?” My widened eyed expression is enough for him to laugh. “I’ll introduce you, come on.” 

The Hollywood Vampires are standing at the other side of the room, laughing together like a bunch of teenage boys. “Guys!” He holds his hand up to try and get their attention. “This is y/n, the girl I was telling you about from meet and greet.” 

He’d been talking about me. 

“And the reason that Johnny was almost late!” The band start to laugh in unison and Johnny shakes his head and lets out a defeated sigh. 

“This is Tommy, Joe and I don’t think that Alice really needs an introduction...” I shake hands with them all in term, but when it comes to Alice, he’s glaring at Johnny. “Hey!” He objects and again, the band are just about on the floor laughing. Making fun of each other in turn is a thing, it seems. 

“I feel like I should be offering to buy you all a drink, what an amazing show you pulled off.” 

“Thank you, darlin’, really glad that you enjoyed it.” Alice replied, “But we’re buying you the drink.” We stand and talk for a little while, mainly about music, before Johnny buts into the conversation. 

“Now if you guys wouldn’t mind excusing us, I do believe I promised the lady a drink.”  

I can feel a blush rise into my cheeks at the realisation that he’s talking about me. “It was nice meeting you guys, good luck for the rest of the tour.” We say our pleasantries and goodbyes. The group disperses, leaving just me and Johnny standing.

“Another admittance on my part, I don’t enjoy these after-parties, they’re too loud for my taste.” He scratches the back of his neck, as if he’s a little nervous . “I know I’m being bold, but would you like to come back to the hotel with me for that drink?”

Pinch me.

Johnny Depp’s hotel suite is bigger than my entire studio apartment. It shouldn’t be a surprise to me that it’s that extravagant, but it’s straight-up like something out of Pretty Woman. It’s a little hard not to stare with your mouth open around the place. Plus the fact, I’m in his hotel room. 

“Pick your poison,” He gestures towards the rooms mini-bar, “Or if none of this is suitable, I can call for room service.”

I shake my head, “A bottle of beer is fine, you don’t need to order a bottle of champagne on ice on my account.” Johnny laughs and grabs a bottle of pass over to me, which I twist the lid from and bring it up to my lips for a taste. 

“You’re an easy girl to impress.”

 I scoff, there are plenty out there that I’m sure would say otherwise. “Somewhat.” 

He, too, grabs a bottle of beer and sits down on the bed. We start to talk, he wants to know about my life, my job, my friends... And while I’m more than certain of the fact that I’m boring the pants off of him, he’s listening as if he’s absorbing and holding onto every word.

When I tell him about my love for poetry, his eyes light up in curiosity. “Who would you say is your favourite poet?” 

I want to set out and impress him, tell him the name of somebody he hasn’t heard before, but I go with my heart. “Oscar Wilde -- I know, it’s a typical answer but there’s just something about his writing which resonates with the soul.” 

“I’d agree, actually-” He pauses to bring his beer bottle up to his lips. “There are only two tragedies in life: one is not getting what one wants, and the other is getting it’ is one that’s always stuck with me.” 

“I can resist everything but temptation.” I grin at him and shrugged my shoulders, always a quote that I’ve related to.

I look back at him, to notice where his gaze is, right at my lips. Before I have a second to comprehend what’s going on, he leans forward, his lips brushing against mine. It takes me by surprise. Johnny Depp is trying to kiss me.

“I’m sorry, shit, I’m sorry. It’s just-” He starts to hastily explain. “I’ve been thinking about it, and I thought-” 

He doesn’t get his last word out because I bring my lips back onto his to return the kiss. It’s soft, slow, and tender. I feel his tongue trace along my bottom lip, as if asking to deepen the kiss.

I’m kissing Johnny Depp. Johnny Depp is kissing me. 

I don’t know how to comprehend it.

Or how I’m even going to begin to tell Alex when she texts me tomorrow.

[souichieatr]

wanna be yours, ch2

suna x freader , foxy boy

where in which two opposites fall in love

a/n: for everyone who commented on the posts youve been added sorry i cant reply <//3 if you're interested in being in the taglist send me an ask, i was thinking of making a playlist for the au would anyone be interested? lmk !! sorry if there are any mistakes or if its bad this is my first writing <3

ch1. this voice im hearing rn? , hey bestie

word count: 2,090

the first song- The Ghost of You- my chemical romance

second song- I Bet on Losing dogs- mitski

third song- Crybaby- destroy boys

pocketing her phone after reading tendous message, she opens the door waving to a couple friends and offers friendly smile taking her seat. a pair of pale green eyes follow her. after yesterday suna did a little research about her y/n y/l/n the bassist and youngest in the band called 4u, she has quite a big following on twitter, she's really nice and interacts with the fans. looking at her now you can't imagine her on stage suna thought. breaking away from his thoughts as the teacher walks in. spouting for about what feels like hours and the students taking notes, finally lunch approaches. y/n jumps from her seat grabbing her case she walks to the third year hallway. waving to her friends they walk to her, tendou wrapping his arms around her “y/n!!!!!! i missed you” laughing as she hugged him back “tendou!!! i missed you toooo.” she turns to the grey haired male, “semisemi!!” she says giving him a hug, he rolls his eyes and hugs her back “and ushi!!” she turns to the brunette to which he pats her head “good afternoon y/n.” as they go to the lunch room to grab their lunch, they walk to one of the music rooms they usually occupy. a beep from her phone grabs her attention seeing her friend atsumu asking if him his twin and their friend can join for lunch, “hey guys you dont mind if atsumu and his friends come join us?” she says setting down her case against the wall. “nah you can invite them, atsumu is our biggest hype man” tendou says, grabbing his drum sticks from his back pocket. texting him its cool she goes to unzip her bass. “oh ms lady ive missed you” she says hugging the instrument, “i can't believe you two and always wanting to play, dont yall have any other hobby?” semi says, grabbing the schools given guitar setting the speaker up for y/n. tendou gives a scoff “semisemi dont act like you hate hearing us play i see you listening to our covers alllll the timeeeee” he says “yeah semi besides we have a concert soon and it wouldnt be bad to have an audience” y/n says walking to semi to connect her bass to the speaker when the door opens, entering is atsumu in the middle, osamu on his left, and a mystery guy in the back. setting her bass down running up to the blond “tsumu!!” giving him a hug “y/n!!” he hugs her back, she waves to osamu, who shes met on an occasion. looking towards the dark haired guy she walks up to him, noticing shes seen him somewhere. “youre suna right? we're in the same class?” she says giving him a hand and a awkward smile, nodding at her words. “hope its okay im here” he says taking her hand giving a slight shake. “nah dont worry its nice to have a different face, seeing tsumu is getting boring” turning around to the male. “what she means to say is we could use practice in front of new people” the grey haired male says giving a small laugh when tendou scoffs at him, both guys walking towards the small group. “this is semi and this is tendou” she says introducing them. when the introductions are over the two males go back to setting up, y/n walks the newcomers to the sitting area “here you guys can sit, im sure you all know ushijima” on hearing his name he looks up from his name giving a small head bow. they all sit “any recommendations tsumu?” y/n says walking to her bass making sure everything was good, looking towards the small group. “y/n you know my favorites” atsumu says stealing one of his brothers onigiri. y/n laughs and rolls her eyes, turning to tendou “anything you wanna try tori?” tendou looks at her with a smile “y/n lets show semi whatweve been working on” hearing this semi looked at them “what do you guys mean? what did you two do” y/n chuckles at the grey hairs doubtful expression “mr semisemi you know your favorite mcr song” when she sees him nod she continues “me and tori learned it” she says pushing him lightly. semi looked at her with wide eyes then at tendou, looking at semi tendou flicked his drum stick between his fingers with a nod. “wow semi cant believe you, we spent so much hours perfecting a my chemical romance for your sap self and he doesn't believe us y/nie i might

” tendou says fake sniffing. the little group in the back beyond confused, atsumu clearing his throat “have you three forgotten us already, wheres our show” ushijima nodding his head “yeah why are you guys being so vague” tendou snickers “dont worry you three and wakatoshi we have decided to play a new song or well cover i should say” “yeah and its semi’s favorite band you know the one that he wears on his shirts?” ushijima looking towards the girl after hearing her statement he nods. “okay can we play now ive been waiting to show my skills and get our lovely semi's opinion” y/n says removing her pick, both boys giving a ‘yeah’. finally tendou does the countdown. suna looks at all three of them with slight excitement in his stomach, ‘is this a new song im going to hear?’ before he could think of anything else, semi started playing a few chords by himself and y/n starting to add her own strums then tendou adding drums. sunas eyes widen at how well all the sounds blended together, freezing in his spot when semi started singing, when hitting the chorus y/n joins him. suna looking at her, he felt like he had been put in a trance, feeling like theres a spotlight on her when she starts nodding her head seeing her tongue sticking out when stringing the instrument. towards the end you can see y/n lose focus and her eye twitches, ending the song she sighs. “hey sorry about the end” waving to the guys to her left with a frown. hearing applause from the group the frown doesnt last long. “WHOOO!!!!! THAT WAS MY BESTIES GO SEMI! GO TENDOU! GO Y/N!!” atsumu gets up and yells. “that was so good what the hell that was yer first time too?” he says going up to the group, high-fiving y/n. “i mean me and tendou practiced together but semi basically has every song by them memorized but together? yeah our first.” tendou getting up to get his water that was next to ushijima. semi joining the fake blond and the girl, patting her on her back “that was a good first for us i can tell you and tendou worked hard, we're definitely adding it to the set list.” getting a laugh from both of them semi walks to the small group. “hey man that was really good, you have a nice voice” suna says as semi approaches, semi turned to him surprised “oh thank you im glad you enjoyed, do you listen to our stuff?” he says taking a seat next to him. “ive recently just started, i hope that doesnt sound too weird” the dark haired suddenly getting a little embarrassed, chuckling “its not weird i promise, well its good you listen to us or im sure it would've been awkward to just be here” nodding along to what he said. tendou going back to the drums “are you cowards tapping out now?” “COWARDS?!?!” y/n yells back turning around “i am no coward tendou satori i'll make you eat those words semi get over here” she said grabbing semis attention and shooing atsumu back to his seat. chuckling as he sat back down, turning to suna “howd ya like em? theyre good huh?” suna rolling his eyes “im not going to help inflate your ego tsumu” “yeah tsumu yer big ego is not cute” gasping to their remarks “you guys are so mean to me, i introduce you to nice music and even the artists and this is the thanks i get” before any could respond tendou starts clicking his sticks. starting this one is tendou with a slower sound, y/n entering second then semi with vocals. y/n leans down to mess with something by her foot turning a notch noises like static come out adding to the music, coming up fast she starts adding her vocals complimenting semis. pressing on the box she leans down as more noises come out. atsumu leans over to sunas ear “thats a pedal that holds other sounds and can help stretch other sounds” suna giving him a nod. towards the end y/n reaches down to the pedal again adding a distorted sound before adding her last bit of ‘oohs’ before the song ends. everyone clapping as the members stay still for s bit before y/n dramatically bows “youre so welcome lovely audience” she says blowing kisses to them, laughing at her atsumu jumps up and down pretending to be a crazy fan “oh y/n you were so go

od i love you y/n!!!” y/n laughing at him. “hey atsumu what about me!” tendou asks swinging his hand “howd i do?” “oh tendou you were so good, i love you too tendou!!!” he says swinging his arm back. tendou satisfied with his response nods his head, “and with that lets play one more i still want time to actually eat before we play again later.” “yeah lets try ‘crybaby’ we haven't done that in awhile” semi says getting in position.“remember y/n you do the verses” y/n nods clearing her throat “go tori” she says and tendou starts the counting again. starting the counting fast he gets one beat then y/n starts off with singing, swinging her bass back she grabs the mic. suna cracks a smile nodding his head a little as he remembers this song on their youtube, atsumu whistling when y/n dips down her mic as she sings, letting the boys have a solo in between verses she bobs her head. the last few seconds of the song she swings the instrument back as she steps on the pedal creating feedback, as semi goes to vocals she starts getting a solo with tendou playing, y/n leans forward and her and semi sing the rest of the song. after the last note they all look out of breath. clapping for them again letting them catch their breath, y/n starts laughing “i forget how hard that song is towards the end” laughing with her tendou nods “its literally the last 50 seconds that get the hardest” “alright lets clean up” semi says laughing at both of their bored looks they send him. finishing up they all go to the group whove are talking among themselves. sighing as she sits y/n takes the seat next to suna, “so howd you like the songs?” she says with a smile “they were good though i only recognized the last one” he replies, “tsumu told me you started listening to us recently so i thought or well semi thought wed show off a bit with our best song being that” she says with a smile grabbing her bottle. a small smile appears on his face “oh hey tsumu told me youre like really good in your classes and i really need help in history and since we have that group project coming up do you wanna pair up?” she says setting her bottle down grabbing a bag of chips. “yeah i dont mind as long as you actually do something and i can help you study if your grade is that bad” he says. “thatd actually help me out a lot i really appreciate it” she lets a breath out. after that the two spent all lunch just talking, the conversation coming easy for both of them. hearing the bell ring y/n hugs her friends and walks with suna to their class, pairing up in the project the teacher had given them in their period. after class before y/n rushed out she passed him her number with a wink “text me for the deets foxy boy.” ‘foxy boy? suna thought to himself shaking his head texting her with a simple ‘hey its suna’ and heading home.

facts !

during lunch when suna and y/n we're talking the followed each other on twitter

semi was really touched they learned the mcr song

the 4u concert is at a small venue but no one really cares about the other groups going there

osamu and atsumu almost started fighting over the onigiri until suna said something about ushijima being right there

atsumu was watching suna and y/n talking

osamu actually really enjoyed being there during lunch

—taglist

@applekenm , @xhanjisungiex , @astronomyturtle , @sirachano0dles , @yn-tingz , @killmepls-uwu , @bakugouswh0r3

[tsukishumai]

Haikyuu boys at a music festival / Rave

A/N: I’m still sad about Coachella being cancelled this year... the line up was perfect (◕︵◕)

Warnings: adult content, mentions of (hard) drug use, pls don’t do these things irl if ur a minor (or at all i guess?)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

THE PROFESSIONAL RAVER –

Kuroo Tetsuro, Iwaizumi Hajime, Hanamaki Takahiro, Semi Eita, Konoha Akinori, Suna Rintaro

Easily spotted due to the flag/totem pole they insist on carrying around. For some reason, knows all the security guards?? Won’t stop talking about how the festival three years ago in Shibuya was probably the best one he’s ever been to. The designated drug mule, cracks a joke or two about how the pills you’re taking was taped to his balls. Pre-game master, knows how to get everyone loose and having fun. You’ll catch them at the house or techno stage, shuffling the night away. You had no idea they even danced, but you don’t think he takes one break. Doesn’t drink, but won’t say no to some special k. He’ll 100% take his shirt off when his fav artists comes on stage. At multiple points in the night, he’ll throw his arms around his friends and say “I just love you guys.... soooooo fuckin much!”

PARENT OF THE GROUP –

Sugawara Koshi, Yaku Morisuke, Kai Nobuyuki, Ojiro Aran, Ennoshita Chikara, Akaashi Keiji

Constantly refilling the camelbak. Always always always reminding you to hydrate. Will be the one to make sure everyone’s together before moving on to the next stage. Wears one of those battery powered mini-fans around their neck to cool you down in case you get overheated. The one designated to carry the Vicks Inhaler(iykyk). First-aid kit on deck, complete with band-aids(you’re clumsy when you’re rolling), Tylenol, Pepcid (they be gettin Asian glow), Baby wipes and hand sanitizer at your beck and call. Will let you lay your head down on their lap while waiting for the artist to get on stage. Probably gives out free massages. Won’t roll or do any drugs, but will get smashed, maybe even a little cross-faded. “IF ANYONE GETS LOST, MEET UP AT THE FERRIS WHEEL!”

THE FIRST TIMERS –

Hinata Shoyo, Haiba Lev, Goshiki Tsutomu, Koganegawa Kanji, Yamaguchi Tadashi, Komori Motoya

Dragged out by the professional raver, probably had to lie to their parents about where they really were that weekend. Wants to go to every single stage and carries around the schedule with them. Has a wide-eyed expression on his face the whole day, thinks that this might be the best day of his life. Gets a little flustered at the fact that so many people are walking around half naked. Insisted on trying molly for the first time, even though everyone kept telling him no. Someone finally gave him a sip of molly water, and he wouldn’t stop bouncing the rest of the night. Won’t stop saying, “I loooove this song, bro!”

THE SOCIAL BUTTERFLY –

Tanaka Ryunosuke, Nishinoya Yuu, Yamamoto Takinori, Oikawa Tooru, Tendou Satori, Miya Atsumu, Bokuto Kotaro , Terushima Yuuji

Took his pill too early, and started rolling in line. His roll wore off when everyone else was peaking, now he’s bugging everyone for an extra molly 😭 he said he’ll pay you back. Sporadically comes and goes. Promised a few other friend groups that he’d meet up with them for certain artists. Usually brings back a new person, becomes their best friend for one set, then leaves, only to come back with another stranger. Uses the term ‘rave bf/gf’. Has had their outfits planned out months in advance. All about the PLUR life – wears the brightest costumes, arms covered all the way up to their elbows in kandi, trading bracelets with any stranger that was willing to look their way. Considers themselves to be “part of the Art Installations.” Has 15365 new Instagram followers by the end of the weekend. “I’ll just meet you guys at the hotel later!” Comes back at 8 am.

THE VIP INFLUENCER –

Kageyama Tobio, Kozume Kenma, Shirabu Kenjiro, Ushijima Wakatoshi, Sakusa Kiyoomi, Futakuchi Kenji

Pays extra for VIP cause he’d rather die than be stuck in a crowd. Says he’s only there because “he knows someone in the band” (he doesn’t.) His outfit looks plain, but his shorts are actually $1,200 and the black t-shirt he’s wearing is $700. The only people he tags in his photos are the brands he’s wearing. Somehow gets invited to all the artist after parties. Only does expensive drugs, like cocaine and ecstasy. He says he can get you backstage, but won’t text you back the rest of the night. Has a ‘too cool to be here’ attitude, and will only lightly tap their finger to the rhythm. Really only went so they could say they were there.

THE LONG TIMERS –

Tsukishima Kei, Sawamura Daichi, Azumane Asahi, Matsukawa Issei, Kita Shinsuke, Miya Osamu

They’ve been there, done that – now all they really want is to enjoy the music. No longer interested in entering the mosh pit or head banging , perfectly content with being in the back of the crowd and next to the speakers (you can feel the bass better this way, anyway.) Doesn’t put too much thought into their outfits. Takes all his vitamins (B12, Calcium, D) before starting the day. He’ll pop a molly, and he might do shrooms if the vibe allows it. Will leave for the next stage before the set’s over in order to “avoid the crowd”.

[teamfreewill56-blog]

Oh My God They’re Real

I’ve been watching too much KnY MMD so now this exists. I’m so sorry.

“Okay Kyojuro we need you to grab one of the audience members and bring them on stage to dance.” Their manager said, looking at the notes she’d written on a clipboard.

“Yes! I like it! That will add a fantastic dramatic flair, they’ll love it!” Uzui smiled showing his teeth, turning his fuschia eyes to the literal flame boy of their group. Kyojuro sat with his arms folded across his chest in a proper but still casual manner, raising his dark eyebrows he lowered them in a frown to match the expression on his lips.

“Hmm, that sounds like it would be violating boundaries, I think it’s best we not.”

“Nah it’ll be fine, all of the people there love The Pillars, that’s the whole reason they’re coming. Besides, you’ll put them right back, it’s not like you’re gonna bite them, right?” Uzui prodded his friend while gently batting away his concern with his multi-painted fingers. He moved his hand out of the way of his make-up artist’s arm as they finished braiding the left side of his hair, the rest of his hair up in a high ponytail. Another one applying his trade-mark red circles.

“Very well, as long as it’s agreed we don’t swarm them once they’re on stage.” Kyojuro gave the manager an expectant look with his unflinching sun eyes.

“They’ll be like an extra who’s dancing with you, promise. Everyone else will keep their regular dance routines.” The manager promised, giving him a reassuring smile. “I’ve got to go check in with Sanemi and Muichiro and their make-up artists, the show starts in ten minutes but be at the center stage in five. Good luck boys.” She waved and walked out.

“What’s with you today?” Tengen asked tilting his head back and looking at Kyojuro.

“Mr. Uzui please keep your head up.” The make-up artist asked and he did so while keeping his eyes on Kyojuro.

“Hm?”

“Our favorite ray of sunshine was being a bit snippy just now.”

“Hm? No, I’m fine!” Kyojuro smiled with an innocent look.

Uzui gave Kyojuro a look. “Senjuro’s fever still hasn’t gone down, has it?” He grinned as the fiery man’s eyes darkened, “Aha I thought so! HEY DON’T TOUCH MY FLAMBOYANT HAIR!”

“Mr. Rengoku please! You’re gonna fall out of your chair!”

Cassy squealed for what had to have been the ten thousandth time, and the concert hadn’t even started yet. Although with how the lights were starting to move in the stadium Y/N guessed it was going to be kicking off soon. “Oh my gosh we’re so close to the stage we can touch them!”

“We can also trip them….” Y/N said thoughtfully.

“Y/N! Don’t you dare!” She pouted at them and glared.

“I won’t, but you didn’t bring me along as your accomplice to kidnap one of them did you Cassy?” Y/N asked giving their friend a suspicious look.

“No...but if one of them falls off the stage you’ll help me take them home right?” She smiled sweetly.

“Well I’m already here so sure.” Y/N replied teasingly. “Who’s your favorite again? Or are you in love with all of them?”

Cassy put her hand over her heart, “I am in love with all of them but Tengen Uzui is my bae.” She adjusted her silver plated headband with a grin and Y/N looked down at the pamphlet, “Oh the one with the tattoo on his eye.” They said picking out the one wearing the matching headband of their friend. “ Oh my god look at the blond’s eyebrows!” Y/N turned the photo to Cassy, “Are those real!? And how is he still in the band? He clearly pilfered everyone else’s eyebrows.”

“Of course they’re--” Cassy paused, “Oh my god what if they’re not.” Y/N laughed and Cassy slapped their arm, “Don’t do this to me right before the concert! And I dare you to ask him!”

“If I somehow by a weird coincidence get to meet….” They looked at the booklet and realized the names weren’t on it.

“Kyojuro Rengoku.” Cassy filled in for them.

“Kyojuro Rengoku, I will ask him.” And Y/N wasn’t going to admit it to Cassy but he was the most attractive one out of the group, eyebrows and all. The pair looked up as the lightning changed and the music grew louder as it flowed out of the speakers. The colored beams shifted to the center of the stage and the floor opened, another stage lifted up with Sanemi, Uzui, Rengoku and Muichiro and the concert started. Y/N smiled every once in a while hearing Cassy scream or jump in place, singing along with the songs that she of course knew word for word and occasionally yelling about her love for Uzui which Y/N wondered if he could even hear although they highly doubted it. They loved seeing their best friend so excited and pumped and honestly The Pillars were the only thing that would really hype her up that way. The music was a little too Pop-ish for Y/N’s tastes but they had to admit The Pillars knew how to dance, and the music was fitting for dancing to, unconsciously they started predicting the dance movements of the group, recognizing patterns and certain giveaways in the three men and boy’s movements. Y/N couldn’t help it, they’d studied dance all their life. Rengoku and Uzui were particularly good, and luckily for Cassy pretty close to where the two of them were standing. Y/N thought they were imagining it, but they could have sworn Rengoku kept looking at them.

Kyojuro was absolutely looking at them. He knew he could probably jump into the crowd and jump back out without getting kidnapped--he hoped--but he figured it was probably his best bet to grab someone as close to the front as possible. Y/N very quickly caught his eye and he was spared gawking by his muscle memory for the dances as well as having to sing his vocals. From the looks of it, and the easy comparison to the girl next to them, this person wasn’t one of their fans, and that realization pricked him for some odd reason. Their eyes, fully reflecting the lights so it was as though the night sky was trapped there---watched with practiced focus, Kyojuro smirked as he came to the quick realization that Y/N was decoding and following their dance moves. That was perfect, not only were they clearly not a fan but had some kind of knowledge about dance, so it minimized the risk in two major ways. Kyojuro danced over to the edge of the stage, kneeling down he held his hand out to Y/N and winked. Poor Y/N didn’t really get to respond properly because Cassy shoved them at Kyojuro, he quickly grabbed their hands and lifted them onto the stage so they didn’t slam their head into the stage, Kyojuro a little alarmed the girl had done that, had he been wrong in assuming the two were friends? But with the glare Y/N shot at the girl Kyojuro got confirmation he had been right. He winked at Y/N and resumed dancing, to his pleasure they hardly missed a literal beat and moved right along with him as though they’d rehearsed it. Kyojuro led them into a partnered dance and Y/N followed effortlessly, “Hey can I ask you something?” Y/N asked, their voice drowned out by the music, singing and chaos of the overall stadium, Kyojuro spun them and winked with a nod, not able to answer being right in the middle of a song, he caught them and dipped them back, bringing them back up, they reached a finger out and stroked his eyebrows, Kyojuro’s eyes widened and Y/N’s mouth dropped open, “Oh my god they’re real.” He almost dropped them.

[jentlemahae]

(Album Review) Sticker by NCT 127 – Did It Really Stick?

Just last week, South Korean group NCT 127 – numbers referring to the longitude coordinate of Seoul – released their long-awaited, third full-length album, Sticker, which immediately caused an uproar among their fans. Some really loved it, while some really hated it (and were not silent about it). It’s the so-called ‘third album syndrome’, where artists create a record that is so new even for them, that it ends up being polarizing for the fanbase. Sticker might have been just that for 127, as fans are either calling it a masterpiece or a huge disappointment – no in-between.

(Those who are already familiar with NCT 127 may skip the following section. Those who are not – buckle up!)

A beginner’s guide to NCT

For those who may not know, NCT (short for “Neo Culture Technology”) is a boy-group under SM Entertainment. The band has been able to stand out from the KPOP landscape since its very debut, and not only because of their music and talents, but also thanks to their distinctive concept. In a nutshell, the idea is that the group can have an unlimited (or infinite) number of members, as fresh new boys can be added to the lineup at any given time. So far, they have accumulated 23 members, divided into four different subunits – NCT 127, NCT DREAM, WayV (fixed units), and NCT U (rotational unit).

Each subgroup has its own characteristic sound and/or concept, but there is one thing they have in common – they are all known for going against the current, be it musically or style-wise. In fact, they are considered the pioneers of the takeover on KPOP by ‘noise music’. But what is noise music? Sometimes affectionately called ‘pots and pans’, it is a genre characterized by an expressive use of sound that is not bound to traditional music rules, and encapsulates different chords and types of notes within a song. Nowadays, it has become the main style of the 4th Generation, and NCT were the ones who truly popularized it to the current audience (despite being 3rd Gen).

NCT 127’s approach to noise music is particularly fascinating. Fans describe their sound as ‘NEO’, which is confusing and vague unless you are familiar with their discography – then it makes perfect sense! The group always takes noise music to the next level, yet manages to not make it sound completely nonsensical and (too) migraine-inducing.

Now that you are all up to speed, we can proceed with the actual review!

Sticker – peeling the songs off

After weeks of teasers and hints, NCT 127 finally unveiled to their eager, hungry fans their new single and album, Sticker. This record perfectly encapsulates the cornucopia of sounds that the band is known for, as the songs go from EDM to hip-hop to heart-warming ballads. And of course, the group’s signature sound – the pots and pans are here, louder and stronger than ever. But enough chit-chat for now – let’s go through the album together.

Sticker (8.5/10)

NCT 127 made the bold choice to open the record with the title track, Sticker. Why ‘bold choice’? Well, let’s just say the song is not exactly easily digestible… The melody is a plethora of sounds, yet feels almost empty and subdued to the vocals at the same time. It is a bacchanal of frenzied beats and a dirty bass line accompanied by a shrill flute and piano, with cut-throat raps and beautiful harmonies that are disjointed from the overall melody. Sticker is chaos, but an intentional one, thus its instability manages to captivate you whilst disarming you.

Truth be told, I was a bit taken aback by the song when I first listened to it. Nothing appeared to make sense to my ears, as they seem to be fighting with the beat (and losing) throughout the entire track. But that’s exactly the point. The disconnection between the instrumentals and the singing is clearly done on purpose, perhaps in order to further highlight the members’ impressive vocals, which overpower and outbalance the otherwise empty beat. Or maybe the purpose was just to render the song more impactful, which sure as hell worked – you may not like Sticker, but the song is likely to remain stuck in your head one way or another.

Lemonade (8.3/10)

The second track was teased by the group prior to the official release of the album with a track video, and was immediately loved by fans. This catchy B-side includes an addictive deep bass which makes the perfect beat for both powerful raps and hefty vocals, a signature cocktail in NCT music.

The song is so good that a puzzling question immediately erupted following the release of the record, and spread like wildfire within 127’s fanbase – why wasn’t ‘Lemonade’ the title track? After all, everyone likes it, both fans and non-fans, and it could easily be something you’d expect to find at the top of the charts. In contrast to Sticker, on which everybody seems to be divided. So, wouldn’t it make sense for it to be the title track, given its striking popular appeal?

The answer is no. What some fans don’t seem to understand is that when it comes down to KPOP title tracks (especially nowadays), the issue is not whether it is the best or the catchiest song on the record. The real question is, does it make an impact? Given how new KPOP groups are popping up left and right, managing to leave enough of an impression on the listeners can make or break a career. The title track needs to be instantly stuck in your mind, and for that Sticker fits the bill, as Lemonade sounds just like any other song you could hear in the first 30 minutes of Inkigayo. It’s good, but ordinary. It just doesn’t cut it, and NCT 127 clearly know that.

Breakfast (8/10)

Third song on the record, Breakfast feels reminiscent of past SM boy groups’ releases, namely SHINee’s song Prism from the album 1 and 1. The song encompasses bright melodies and retro beats with a modernized twist, which serve as a perfect mix with the members’ voices. The song’s main stars are the vocalists (particularly HAECHAN, whose tone works wonders with the genre), while the raps are tamer for the group’s standard.

Focus (9/10)

The fourth track is a mid-tempo R&B romantic song, a genre that is characteristic of 127’s B-sides and displays the group’s more soulful edge. Focus flawlessly showcases the members’ honeyed and warm vocals (especially JAEHYUN’s), and the slow lazy-like raps remind of early 2000’s sultry slow jams. This track was an immediate fan-favorite (as attested by yours truly).

The Rainy Night (9.5/10)

The Rainy Night is an R&B-tinged ballad reminiscent of boybands in the 90’s, and is the perfect follow-up to Focus, as vocals appear to be the true protagonists of both songs. In the track, TAEIL manages to stand out in particular by showing off his impressive range, with his beautiful adlibs on the suit-and-tie beat.

Far (6.2/10)

Next up is Far, characterized by a boom-clap drumline and a chanted chorus. Despite being rather forgettable, it is a good song after all – something straight out of a superhero movie soundtrack. It just sounds like something we’ve heard before at least a million times from about any KPOP boy group out there.

Bring The Noize (6.6/10)

Bring The Noize is about as NEO as it can get, with loud and thunderous beats, growling raps and sounds mimicking a car engine, which together make you feel as if your head were in a blender. Just like Sticker, this song is pure chaos, but of an overwhelming and impetuous kind because of its packed production. Yet, I think that’s where it all goes sideways – Bring The Noize is just too overwhelming, because it’s too crowded. On top of the production overflowing with sounds and effects, the vocal aspect of the song is simply too much. All members sing or rap on the track, but the variety of vocal colors is disarming and confusing to the ears in the worst way. Simply put, some members could have stayed silent in that recording booth…

Magic Carpet Ride (6.4/10)

Doing a full 180 from the previous track, Magic Carpet Ride is a ballad with pop elements, and a melodic beat that particularly shows off DOYOUNG and JAEHYUN’s vocals. Despite being a lovely song, it’s nothing particularly exceptional – it’s good for what it is, but it falls slightly flat and forgettable. Nevertheless, it does a wonderful job in proving that not every KPOP song needs a rap part…

Road Trip (7.3/10)

Road Trip shows off 127’s more boyish and bright side, with nice layers of guitar, drums and delicate vocals, proving once again how the band’s is not just a loud gimmick. The song is enjoyable – however, it’s not something we haven’t heard before from NCT. It’s sweet and lovely, but it’s definitely nothing to write home about.

Dreamer (7.4/10)

This upbeat song gives yet another sweet and poppy feel to the tracklist, with retro beats, trumpet riffs and a happy-go-lucky melody. Dreamer kinda sounds like something out of an Old Navy commercial, but I mean it in a good way – its funky, childlike charm combined with the uplifting lyrics is likely to put a smile on your face!

Promise You (7.2/10)

127 chose to end the album with a letter dedicated to their fanbase, NCTzens. Due to the ongoing pandemic, groups have not been able to meet fans in a long time as they normally would. In Promise You they sing about being separated from a loved one and then being reunited again, which is likely a nod towards their fans. Musically, the song intertwines retro-inspired beats with atmospheric synths, that give it a dreamy-like appeal. The track is sweet and serves as a great album closer, as wrapping up the record with DOYOUNG singing “So stay” in a longing yet reassuring tone, feels like the perfect goodbye.

So, did it stick?

Overall, Sticker is a very well-made album – it has ballads, upbeat tracks, addictive songs, and a decent dose of the good ol’ pots and pans. Does it sound like something we have never heard before in KPOP? No! Does it sound like something we’ve never heard before from NCT? Also… No… But whilst the record follows a similar algorithm to 127’s past albums, it is still incredibly enjoyable without sounding boring or too déjà vu. It has a good 50/50 mix of experimental songs to ballads and R&B-influenced tracks, and it leaves room for both rappers and vocalists to shine.

The album truly screams ‘NCT 127’ – it’s experimental, not sonically cohesive, confusing, and a little weird. Plus, just like all of the group’s music, it’s not everyone’s cup of tea. Or better yet, it’s not at first listen. Sticker might be odd and disarming, but it will get to you eventually – you just gotta let it stick.

8/10

[onestowatch]

The Top 21 Artists to Watch in 2021

In a world where the only universal certainty seems to be opening every email with “hope you’re doing well,” the only other surefire guarantee is that there will continue to be new music worth discovering. And, we figured with the start of a new year, what better way to say to spend the waking hours of 2021 than introduce you to a few of the artists we currently have a close eye on. Often genreless and belonging to Gen Z, these are the 21 artists we are watching in 2021. 

spill tab

Where to Start: “Calvaire” 

In her breakout single “Calvaire,” spill tab sings in French over an intoxicating backbeat. The effect is akin to a spell, ushering into existence something inherently danceable and transfixing, like an Angèle B-side finding new life as a Billie Eilish cut. It is a standout moment that would be followed by similar standout moments in the form of a series of varied singles, culminating in spill tab’s debut EP, Oatmilk. Short and sweet, the four-song collection holds all the promise of a 2021 artist to watch.

Joesef

Where to Start: “The Sun Is Up Forever”

Emerging from the fog of Glasgow, Scotland, Joesef’s marriage of heartbreak, desire, regret, hope, and sublime joy is nothing short of intoxicating. Immediately making an impression with his tender, heartfelt croon, the Glasgow artist’s songs soon give way to emotionally rife personal recollections–some beautiful in their understated minimalism, some breathtaking in their expansive scope. Whatever the setting, the result is always the same–a passionate, shared moment you will not be forgetting anytime soon.

brakence

Where to Start: “dropout”

Self-described as “self-care punk,” brakence effortlessly pairs the unmatched energy of punk with an impressive showing of vulnerability. While the past few years saw the Ohio native experiment over a range of singles and on his debut album, 2020 was without a doubt the year he found his sound in the noteworthy punk2. Blending Midwest emo, trap production, hip-hop, and alternative, brakence’s sophomore effort is a masterclass in infectious emotional catharsis.

Mustafa

Where to Start: “Stay Alive”

Few artists embody the sentiment of music as poetry as emphatically as Mustafa. First leaving a mark with 2020’s “Stay Alive,” Mustafa introduced himself to the world with a breathtaking, earth-shattering ballad rife with impassioned emotional imagery. Soft-spoken but never lacking for impact, the poet, activist, filmmaker, and songwriter brings to life the lived realities of Toronto’s Regent Park, a public housing project that shaped Mustafa into the once in a lifetime artist he is today.

Holly Humberstone

Where to Start: “Falling Asleep At The Wheel”

In her 2020 debut EP, Falling Asleep at the Wheel, Holly Humberstone proves herself a master at crafting a palpable atmosphere. Rife with emotional highs and cathartic lows, all backed by Humberstone’s magnetic and graceful songwriting, the British artist lays her heart on her sleeve and in turn lays the groundwork for a debut offering poised to stand the test of time. It is no mere hyperbole to say that Humberstone is an artist to watch out for not only in 2021 but in the years to come.

AG Club

Where to Start: “Memphis”

The initial comparison of AG Club to collectives like BROCKHAMPTON and A$AP may be an easy one to draw, but a single listen tells another story. While the genreless Bay Area collective may radiate the same rapturous energy of the aforementioned groups, AG Club is clearly riding high on their own wavelength. Aiming to make hip-hop but not as you know it, the idiosyncratic collective made their vision clear with the release of 2020’s Halfway Off the Porch, an electrifying amalgamation of disparate genres, sights, sounds, and moods.

347aidan

Where to Start: “Dancing in My Room”

Euphoric, difficult to perfectly define, and haphazardly brilliant, aidan347 embodies the adventurousness and inventiveness of Gen Z. The project of 17-year-old Aidan Fuller, the Cambridge, Ontario native has spent the past five years making music. Yet at the beginning of 2020, the Cambridge artist had less than three thousand monthly listeners; now, that number sits well above five million. A testament to 347aidan’s tenacity, his devoted fanbase, and the power of a TikTok-fueled viral hit–arriving in the form of “Dancing in My Room”–it really feels we are only witnessing the prologue of what’s to come.

Frances Forever

Where to Start: “Space Girl”

When thinking of music’s future stars, what better place to look than to the galactic, lovelorn musings of Frances Forever. Making less of a splash and more of a tidal wave with the release of “Space Girl” late last year, the Boston bedroom artist’s ode to intergalactic love has been rapidly climbing the TikTok and indie charts. Now signed to Mom+Pop records, Frances Forever is more than ready to shoot for the stars and beyond in 2021.

Hope Tala

Where to Start: “Lovestained”

Hope Tala is impossible to ignore. A West Londoner to her core, the UK singer-songwriter finds inspiration in everything from ‘90s movies, classic literature, to the constantly changing world around her. Transforming what feels like a lifetime, and some, of inspiration into an undeniably spellbinding fusion of R&B and bossa nova, Hope Tala’s musings of daydreams, heartache, and fear are the sort ready to define a generation’s ails, joys, and mundane triumphs and anxieties. Universal in scope yet deeply personal, Hope Tala is without doubt an artist to keep your eye on in 2021. 

Q

Where to Start: “Take Me Your Heart Is”

Q, much like his name, is an anomaly. Releasing one album a year since 2018, the ineffable soul and R&B artist has somehow coasted under the radar in spite of releasing some of the most breathtaking music out there. And with the release of 2020’s The Shave Experiment, Q feels like he’s finally stepping into the much-deserved limelight. Leading with the striking “Take Me Your Heart Is,” Q brought to life a nostalgic, hyper-emotive track sure to stop you in your tracks. Hopefully, it’s one of many to come. 

Claire Rosinkranz

Where to Start: “Backyard Boy”

16-year-old Claire Rosinkranz has been making music for the better part of her life, and 2020 was the year that scribbling down lyrics and helping her father compose music for TV shows and ad jingles paid off in a major way. The California native’s single, “Backyard Boy,” taken from her debut EP, BeVerly Hills BoYfRiEnd, soon became a TikTok hit, racking up over 80 million streams to date, on Spotify alone. If there are two things to look out for in 2021, make sure it’s your mental wellbeing and Claire’s euphoric self-dubbed “alternative-blues-pop.”

KennyHoopla

Where to Start: “how will i rest in peace if i'm buried by a highway?//”

KennyHoopla is nothing if not electrifying. The alternative, punk, and ‘80s new wave-evoking artist moves through each track with a sense of world-ending hunger, jumping from one ensuing mosh pit to the next. It is a balancing act of new wave nostalgia and genuine inventive alternative that results in a maelstrom of palpable excitement. To best experience this cathartic form of self-expression firsthand, look no further than his debut EP, last year’s how will i rest in peace if i'm buried by a highway?//. No one is quite making music like KennyHoopla, in 2021 or beyond.

MICHELLE

Where to Start: “THE BOTTOM”

New York collective MICHELLE deftly imbues the sincerity of soul and R&B into a uniquely tender pop outlook, and the result is nothing short of infectious. The project of six predominantly queer POC individuals, the group originally earned widespread critical acclaim for their 2018 album HEATWAVE, but it was arguably their subsequent signing with Atlantic Records last year that has them set to be one of 2021’s most promising acts. Quickly making the most of their newfound major label status, MICHELLE released “Sunrise,” the sonic equivalent of the first rays of light breaking through the clouds, signaling the end of a rainy day. It’s safe to say the future is looking bright for MICHELLE.

glaive

Where to Start: “eyesore”

Few artists define and defy the label of hyperpop as readily as glaive. Falling somewhere between 100 gecs and the second coming of mid-2000s pop punk, the newly-signed Interscope artist released his major debut label EP, cypress grove, earlier this year. Yet before finding a home at Interscope, glaive’s official discography only stretched back as far as 2020. Making the most of a year we all would rather soon forget, the 15-year-old wunderkind showcased to the world a continual musical evolution that is looking to only further pick up steam in the coming year.

Claud

Where to Start: “Wish You Were Gay”

From opening for Clairo to releasing a steady stream of resonant singles, Claud has spent the last couple of years making a name for themselves in the indie music world, but 2020 saw arguably their biggest breakthrough moment yet. With the release of “Gold,” Claud became the first artist signed to Phoebe Bridgers’ Saddest Factory Records. Arriving as the first taste of their upcoming debut album, Super Monster, 2021 is looking absolutely golden for Claud. And not to mention the fact they recently started a band with Clairo and friends.

María Isabel

Where to Start: “The 1”

Where has María Isabel been all our lives? First making herself known with the release of “The 1,” an ode to long-distance relationships, which soon became more prophetic than we ever could have imagined, the debut single served as lovely an introduction as they come. Thankfully, we would not have to wait too long to hear more dreamlike R&B from María, who graced us with her debut EP, Stuck in the Sky shortly thereafter. Uniquely heartfelt and velvety smooth, María’s voice is just the thing to carry you through 2021.

Remi Wolf

Where to Start: “Photo ID”

The past couple of years have seen avant-garde pop wunderkind Remi Wolf test the waters with one out of this world single after another, and 2020 felt like the year everything finally fell into place. Arriving on the Bay Area native’s sophomore album, I’m Allergic To Dogs!, “Photo ID,” and its unafraid, in your face anti pop mentality cemented itself as a surefire hit, and TikTok soon took notice. Serving as a testament to Remi Wolf’s mainstream appeal in spite of her outsider approach, “Photo ID” merely set the stage for what is to come.  

PawPaw Rod

Where to Start: “HIT EM WHERE IT HURTS”

PawPaw Rod may be the only artist on this list with only one single to their name, but in no way does that disqualify him from being an artist to watch in 2021. Releasing his debut single, “HIT EM WHERE IT HURTS,” out into the ether, the Los Angeles artist immediately landed on something special. Blending elements of hip-hop, funk, and alternative under a mellow, syrupy flow, PawPaw Rod wasted no time in setting himself apart from the pack. And with godmode–the same development company that brought us Yaeji, Channel Tres, LoveLeo, and more–it is safe to say that this is only the beginning.

Evann Mcintosh

Where to Start: “WIYULD”

In her dreamlike take on alternative R&B, Evann Mcintosh attempts to capture the turbulent act of coming-of-age. At times delicate to the touch and at times emanating a self-assured confidence well beyond her 16 years of age, Evann Mcintosh’s 2019 debut album, MOJO, laid the groundwork for an act whose promise knows no bounds. It was a promise she made good on during the tail end of 2020, with the release of singles “WIYULD” and “BULL$HIT.” Showing off two different sides of her continued musical growth, 2021 has us all the more excited for what Evann has in store.

Serena Isioma

Where to Start: “Sensitive”

In her breakout single, “Sensitive,” Serena Isioma fuses modern-day R&B and woozy indie pop with reckless abandon. The outcome is a song that not only sounds quite unlike anything else out there, but one whose own vibe seems to shift and evolve from one moment to the next. It is an electrifying opening moment that begins to define the Isioma’s artistry and her debut EP, Sensitive. The first of two EPs the Chicago-based artist would release in 2020, it is hard not to feel like Isioma is already in the process of creating a one-of-a-kind discography.

Blu DeTiger

Where to Start: “Figure It Out”

Whether you know her as the touring bassist for acts like FLETCHER and Caroline Polachek or as the TikTok famous bassist, the fact of the matter is that Blu DeTiger is an artist you need to know. A bassist since age seven and crowned the “coolest DJ around” by Vogue, the New York native’s music skirts the realms of funk, indie, and dance. Unmistakable, nonchalantly cool, and unsurprisingly bass-heavy, you deserve doing yourself the favor of diving headfirst into Blu DeTiger’s music. Just be sure to come up for air, when you’re ready.