#comes forward a little when he does a solo in a song and then goes back to his space

[lock-my-feelings-in-a-jar]

[informalmajesty]

Jimin is not being sabotaged by his own label

This tag used to be (mostly) fun and now all I see are large text posts pitting Jimin and JK against each other and, look, it’s not as complicated as many of you are making it out to be, nor is there some grand conspiracy to *checks notes* pit JK and Jimin against each other or *keeps checking notes* a SPECIFIC vendetta against ONLY Jimin, their artist who *scrolls scrolls scrolls through notes* went number 1 on Billboard.

So here is a large text post on the woes of American capitalism (yes. Really).

Here’s the reality

Billboard DID Sabotage Jimin

Let’s get the big sabotage that did happen out of the way — BILLBOARD (and friends. Will circle back to this) ARE RACIST SNAKES AND ALWAYS HAVE BEEN.

Billboard has a history of keeping Black artists off of the pop charts. One example, R&B was largely created as a separate chart to move a category of Black artists from the Hot 100 pop charts. It was a big deal—as (1) example—when Boyz II Men crossed over to the pop charts multiple times.

And then what happened? The American music industry caught up and started cranking out white boy bands that wrote and performed R&B but. Funny. Somehow it was now considered JUST pop on the H100 POP charts. They weren’t pushed immediately to R&B and had to work their way over.

This was considered R&B for the R&B charts that was a “crossover”

And this was considered mainstream pop that needed no crossover.

Yeah, Billboard have always been racist snakes.

So flash forward to 2023. We know they tried HARD to keep BTS from the H100. Going into Proof, BB limited digitals, reduced the weight on sales and upped weight on radio. Why? American music labels can control radio. They cannot control sales and it’s legally far more messy for them to do so.

But then. JIMIN happened.

ARMY got Jimin to H100 #1 with the rule change and the American music industry lost their collective shit.

Why do I say COLLECTIVE and not just Billboard? Well.

This is so essential to the punch line of this rant.

American capitalism only cares about its friends.

What does that mean?

I work in Silicon Valley. You want to know why there is a major diversity problem in Silicon Valley? Yes. There is explicit and obscene misogyny and racism, but the biggest problem is less explicit albeit just as systemic.

White men tend to hang out and befriend other white men already in their “circle.” When some rich person or VC firm’s buddy is like “hey I need money for this thing” they are like “yes, of course, buddy, here you go!!” And they get tons of cash without having to prove anything.

I will not say the startup I worked at but it’s valuation was in the billions and their funding was in the billions with NO product built yet. How they got those billions? A well known stunt performer was besties with the then CEO of a major major tech company and he said “hey bestie give my friend over here hundreds of millions of dollars.” And then this startup got hundreds of millions of dollars. Was there due diligence done? Absolutely. But would the CEO of a major tech company give a crap if his best dude didn’t vouch for the startup? No.

Humans are extremely relationally driven. Merit is basically bullshit. Merit is so so rarely considered in anything. Who are you friends with? That’s how most things are done.

So, Billboard has a lot of friends. Those friends are in major record labels. And those friends only care about making as much money as possible while retaining the status quo.

What goes against all of that? A group of non-white, non-American men that they make very little money from because their label is completely seated in a different country.

So when Like Crazy—a solo record by a Korean artist under a Korean label with a Korean songwriting team—comes in and dethrones FLOWERS, Columbia Records’ darling for the year (no hate to Miley or the song, it’s solid, love Miley), oh my god were they SEEING SOME RED.

The MONEY they PAID to see Flowers on top of radio, of playlisting, of cultural consciousness and a NON AMERICAN NON WHITE MAN just dethroned that.

My GUESS (I don’t know, also keep in mind BTS didn’t seem to have the friendliest exit from the Columbia distribution deal) is that Billboard’s BFFs at Columbia threw a fit. And Billboard responded by saying “of course, bestie, we’ll remove the problem.”

And there goes 100k sales in the next week. Deleted. Gone.

Who is going to call them on that? Hybe could propose an investigation, sure, but here’s the thing — it’s not illegal. Billboard didn’t break any law. It’s THEIR completely made up chart that they can change at any time depending on what labels want (this is how Wall Street works too, btw). Everything is made up to appease the same 50 white men. Bleak but true. Music industry is far from the exception.

Okay so moving forward — now we have Jungkook’s Seven coming out. And Billboard a week before release finally decides to tell us the rule they CREATED BECAUSE OF JIMIN (it’s a shitty rule of course but damn Jimin’s power)—D2C sales no longer count.

Jungkoook makes it to #1 anyway because ARMY is freaking amazing AND yes. Yes, Jungkook got more US promotion, help on Spotify, general promo, radio etc than Jimin.

BUT THIS DID NOT HAPPEN BECAUSE BIG HIT FAVORS JUNGKOOK AND SABOTAGED JIMIN

Remember — everything is determined by rich men in power and who they are friends with.

What did Jungkook do? He went to an American producer who is besties with Scooter Braun (Andrew Watt has worked with several of Scooter’s artists including Justin Bieber, namely on Peaches) who has power to contact his besties at Spotify and wherever else.

And what does going to an American producer unlock for Jungkook? A pop track highly likely to do well in America. So then what does Bang PD do? Recognize that because the dude is a billionaire and he likes money and he says (and we know he said this) “this is going to be a hit.” And there you go, you have the Seven marketing campaign that Like Crazy didn’t quite get.

This isn’t “oh my god BigHit / Hybe hates Jimin.” This is “Jungkoook took an easier, more commercial route.”

If Jimin wants to go get a song like Seven….he can go get a song from an American producer who is friends with the right people.

Instead he wanted to work on a personal project with Korean producers and it’s amazing and beautiful and also went number one and was also a huge success.

And Jungkook wanted this really great and incredibly commercial pop song.

Both are valid. Both are going to unlock different resources for the artist. And both Jimin and JK know this. They chose what they chose. That’s it. End of story.

As for Seven v LC album stock— stock is highly likely determined by basic predictive analytics models (exponential smoothing, maaybe a regression, maybe even something as simple as moving avg idk). LC was a sizable increase from Astronaut and other BTS singles. So then Seven likely adjusted to that increase. Again. That’s it guys. That’s literally it.

So can we please have the tag back and stop pitting JK and Jimin against each other and respect that Jimin chose to do a more artistic, personal project while JK (at least for now) did not?

If you want to be mad at something, be mad at American wealthy white men and their friends.

[ashisill]

Broken bells

As the tbagg era ends I give you this. Hope you enjoy.

Warning: crying but that’s all.

Another day another song. You’ve spent the last week with the boys as they worked on their new album. Mostly getting drunk and running barefoot outside, or talking to ghost with Jake. They started setting up the equipment for yet another session when trouble followed.

“Wrong amp smart one” Jake smarted off to his twin.

“Okay fucker” Josh whispered underneath his breath. Jake heard, balled his fist up, and took a breath. Choosing to ignore his brothers words. “Does that work for ya prince Jake?”

“Sure does prick” Jake said crossing his arms.

“You little bitch” Josh slammed the guitar down not hard enough to break his brothers pride and joy, but enough to make his point.

“CAREFUL!” Jake bolted from his seat to grab his guitar. Josh walked to the kitchen to cool off, and you decided to join him.

“He didn’t mean it ya know” you said grabbing him a beer.

“I know he didn’t, but god he’s pissing me off. Thanks darling”.

“Of course love” you watched him carefully as he ran his hands through his hair, frustrated.

He took a few breath “he just gets on my nerves sometimes ya know?”

“Yeah I know how it feels me and my sister get like that too” you said.

“God I know I’ve had to break you two up” he laughed.

“Hey can’t be worse than you two. I’ve had to pull you off of him” you said.

“Yeah and I could of won if you didn’t step in” he said scrasacly.

“Yeah mhm sure ya could” you patted his arm. “Come on love”

~

You two went back, and the twins apologized and moved on. Which is normally how it goes. Nearly committing manslaughter to its all good brother.

“Can practice my song I’ve got some new ideas?” Danny asked behind the drums.

“Oh yeah that’s a good idea Dan” Josh said. Everyone shook their heads in agreement.

You had a seat on the couch in front of josh. “Front row huh?” Josh laughed.

“That’s the only way to watch” you smiled at him.

A cheesy grin spread across his face, and he just stared down at you.

“Check your mic bud” Jake said.

Josh gave him a thumbs up and began talking into the mic. “I love you”.

“I love you too” you told him.

“Oh get a room” Sam rolled his eyes.

“Everyone ready? … Alrighty Jake take us there”

Jake began plucking the first couple notes, and your eyes were glued. Watching every movement his fingers made. Then Josh began to sing.

“I can see the faces through the broken glass”

As the song went on your eyes began to tear up. You didn’t want to embarrass yourself so you held them back. Josh could tell something was off, but thought maybe you were just really focused on the music or the thoughts that raced through your mind.

“I never want to fall asleep. Within our dreams the weight we saw, we reap”

You could feel it rising in your throat. You held your breath trying desperately not to let the tears fall.

“When out of silence we will sing”

And they broke lose. Tears were rolling down your face, and you wiped them quickly. They just kept falling. Josh and Jake looked at each other in sync. Josh wanted to stop and comfort you, but one look from Jake he didn’t fight it. The communication between those two is something you’ll never understand. They have entire conversations with one look.

When Jakes guitar solo started you somehow began crying even harder. You’ve embarrassed yourself entirely, but you couldn’t stop. Your face was red from crying and embarrassment. You wanted to get up and leave, but you couldn’t. Your body wouldn’t let you. You were glued to your seat.

“Yet we still play the game”

The last few notes played out and Josh stepped forward. “What happened love?” He laughed as he knelt down in front of you. “Did the music take you baby?”

You nodded your head as you hid your face from him. “Stop that let me see that pretty face” you looked at him and your face was redder than ever.

“Holy shit” Jake spoke.

“I know” Josh said as he wiped your face clearing the tears from it.

“Was it the song?” Sam asked.

“Yes sam. A bit slow are we?” Josh laughed again at his insult. “You alright darling?”

“Yes” you said finding your voice again. He helped you up and took you to the kitchen again to get some water. Jake followed shortly after.

Jake wrapped you in a hug. Something that is rare for you and Jake. You held him back tightly. Josh stood back and smiled. He knew exactly why Jake was hugging you. It wasn’t to comfort you. Nor was it an apology for making you cry. He knew what you did to Jake. Josh knew how much that opened his eyes. And Jake knows how powerful their music is, but to see the effects on someone so close to him was surreal.

“Thank you” was all he said. No more words needed to be spoken you knew exactly what he meant.

[thefixations-ofmine]

Kinktober 2024 - Watersports

Pairing: Eddie Munson Solo (Stranger Things) Word count: 1.2k Warnings: pee kink, desperation, semi-public, don't drink and drive!! Summary: An unlucky turn of events throws Eddie into a new world of wonders he's not above exploring, and he kicks this off with a bang on the first night. A/N: okayokay, I'm dipping my toes into writing (and actually posting) this kink!! It's not everybody's cup of tea, but hopefully this can reach the right audience. And if it does well, I might explore it further. *goes back into her hiding spot* Main Masterlist | Kinktober Masterlist | AO3

There is no other reason for his predicament than his own stupid judgement, and Eddie knows he’s got under three minutes to finish singing his song and rush off the stage before he humiliates himself in front of the (albeit little) crowd of this bar. He’d gotten so invested in the pre-show drama over his first two beers that he forgot his ritual: a blond beer, a red beer, some wings and a bathroom run!

Now Eddie’s singing the words to Rot in Hell with watery eyes, using his usual body banging movements to hide his desperation. If he’s honest, he could quite literally grab his dick to help himself and nobody would bat an eye, but he doesn’t want to have this become a thing.

Not the movement itself, but the love for the desperation.

Luckily, beating his time at two minutes, Eddie rushes into the stall and proceeds to undo his pants, which proves harder than expected, but once his belt is taken care of, the baggy fit allows his pants to simply fall to his ankles.

He’s unsure what rushes into him at this moment but he doesn’t let go as soon as his boxers are nudged under his balls. He stands there, breathing heavily and clenching his ass as best he can and just… waits. He closes his eyes, lets the feeling run up his spine and allows a few more shivers to decorate his skin. Then with a faint moan, he pushes the first spurt out and holds again. Lets go for another two seconds and stops again. And he swears it feels like he’s about to cum and he’s enjoying torturing himself too much in the semi-public space.

A spark of reality comes to him when the door to the bathroom squeaks open and he leans forward, both hands on the wall and finally lets go fully, his entire bladder raving and he pushes the last drops so hard he gets dizzy, like he does when he’s been jerking off all day and he gives himself dry orgasms. Then perhaps it’s the beers talking, but he reaches down to shake off the remaining drop and wipes it off with his index, which he brings up to his lips. He’s not sure what he expects, but it surprisingly resembles the red pint he had earlier in the evening.

He walks to his van without saying a word to his band, helping pack up the remaining of the gear before slamming the doors shut and driving the guys home rather than all enjoying the rest of the night moving their D&D campaign forward in Eddie’s trailer.

“I’m feeling off today, we can move this to Thursday night guys,” he simply says.

What Eddie knows is that the first pee after drinking beers all night is only the floodgates opening, and for him, that usually means having to pee a full bladder every thirty minutes until he passes out from exhaustion. After his little moment in the stall, he’s more than excited to head home and explore this newly found distasteful thing about his sexual fantasies.

His leg had started shaking just a mere minute after dropping off Gareth when the cold air from the door danced over his skin. Eddie tries to focus on the road and the end goal, but some light traffic keeps him from making it in a comfortable time. Plus the police lights vibrating ahead are an indication that the situation is there to stay. He should have taken the last exit before the next one in ten miles, but the thrill of holding is getting to him and he’d be damned to rush this.

Eddie cracks the window open, he leans his seat back a little and reaches for a beer behind the passenger seat. He expertly pops it open with his lighter and takes a swig, looks around then takes another, and he downs it halfway before the traffic moves for another few feet. He’s visibly shaking by now, writhing in his seat and he plays with the collar of his hoodie to numb the feeling. When the cars stop again he finishes his beer and sets the bottle on the seat next to him. It’s torture at this point, but a delicious one.

It’s been roughly twenty minutes since he got on the freeway and the cars are not dissipating any faster. Eddie’s going to have to get creative in any minute or he’ll have a hard time explaining the horrid smell in the van to the guys on Monday. His first thought was to park the car and simply walk out with confidence to the other side where a cement wall would maybe hide him, though the combination of standing up and the crisp air would threaten some leaks. He wonders if he has anything in the back that could come in handy, until his eyes land on the bottle in the seat as he turns back. Bingo.

He reaches over while his other hand fumbles with his zipper, and he tugs at himself a few times after taking his dick out. He’d been rocking a semi for as long as the traffic slowed down, not helping with the pressure of it all. Eddie brings the bottle to his tip and nudges it hard enough so the glass seals perfectly around his urethra. Unlike his time in the stall, he wastes no time in emptying his bladder in a single go. It’s riveting, addicting. His face contorts and his jaw goes slack, letting out a shaky sigh that stretches into a moan.

“Focus on the road moron!” The voice out his window startles him as he’s lost in his erotic bubble. Thankfully so, because he’s almost overflowing the bottle and has plenty more to go! He manages to stop long enough to get into Drive and make the distance between him and the car ahead. When he’s stopped again, he lets panic settle in and wonders how he will pull off the rest of the moment. Then - thank fuck - a construction zone allows him to take the next exit sooner. It’s no easy path though, the gravel proving challenging to keep the liquid in the bottle and his bladder in check. But he makes it, and keeps driving until he sees the moon glistening on a lake.

Eddie parks by Reefer’s house and as usual, finds it empty and ready for him to spend the night. He jogs down to the lake, bottle in hand although he could have discarded it in the house. He stands there, hidden enough but still showing his dick out to the world, and holds the bottle low so he can aim into it. He’s not too bad despite the narrow bullseye, but his hand is getting a warm shower that he’s not entirely mad about. It’s different, new. His mind runs wild at all the possibilities this kink can take him into, and he’s turned on enough to start jerking off once he’s done.

It’s quick work. A few tugs and twists and he’s cumming all over his hand, adding to the mess. His groan comes out into a hot fog, like a kid playing pretend and howling at the moon. When Eddie comes to, he empties the bottle by the shore and turns back to the house. He’s going to have to wash his pants in the sink, then wash himself, and if some of his thoughts do come true during the night, he’ll need another shower in the morning.

Thank you for reading!! Let me know if you would like to be tagged in future posts!

[married-2-the-music]

K-pop Discography Deep Dives: Onew

Onew is one of the five members of 2nd generation group SHINee, and debuted with them in 2008 before debuting as a soloist ten years later with Blue. Here are my credentials: If you’ve ever read my blog before, you’ll know I’m a huge ShaWol (SHINee fan), and so I’m slowly making my way through their solo discographies before eventually tackling their huge discography as a group. I’ve done Taemin, Jonghyun, Key, and now Onew, but Onew’s actually the one I know the least well, so I’m excited to get to know more! (Also shoutout to @fallsouthwinter, who knows his work like the back of their hand).

Blue is a ballad if ever there was one, and usually ballads take a lot to win me over…but this one managed! I love dancing and beautiful production, but I’m a singer at heart, and so I couldn’t help but be won over by Onew’s absolutely stunning voice mixed with such light strings. I don’t know exactly which life experiences the song is about, but the way he sings it, it’s like he’s pouring his heart into every note, and it’s quite an affecting performance, even without a translation. The MV too is gorgeous, all in shades of blue, gray, and white, swirling around him in a vortex.

Voice is quite a melancholy EP on the whole, but I still enjoyed the gentle pull-back and rush-forward of Your Scent, the catharsis in the slow-building Illusion, and especially the sweetness and warmth in the lyrics and acoustic guitar of Shine On You (my hidden gem); I go “aww” at the “I love you” every time.

Dice is a song that, somehow, I hadn’t actually heard before? It seems kind of shocking, considering it’s his most popular song. It goes the precise opposite way from Blue, being much cuter, poppier, and stranger (the last mostly in terms of music video), and overall reminded me a little of Jonghyun’s laid-back R & B style, just with a peppier edge. Though the song itself is nothing incredible, Onew’s voice makes everything more enjoyable, and the music video had me very amused (especially when they run away together, lol). I also like the bridge a lot. From the EP, also called Dice, I enjoyed the building synths in the dancy, appropriately sunny Sunshine (my hidden gem), the vintage background beat in On The Way, and the vulnerability expressed in Love Phobia.

Kirakira, of course, is a Japanese release, and returns to the orchestral style of Blue, but with a far more upbeat feeling that I think works quite well with his voice. It has an excellent driving beat from its underlying guitar (which actually gets a solo, here), and a brightness that feels like it comes from deep within. And, that music video is adorable; I can never resist a cat! This is actually my favorite single so far, which is a surprise. Apparently it’s a cover of an older J-pop song by Odu Kazumasa, and “Kirakira” literally means “shiny”, which I hope was a choice made on purpose, because if so, that’s very sweet.

From the EP, Who Sings?, I loved the jazzier direction taken with the building strings in the slowly burning (seven-minute-long!) Everything, which feels like more of an epic or opera than just a song, so I couldn’t pick anything else as my hidden gem. But, I also enjoyed the feel-good orchestral pop of Uroko.

Life Goes On is also a Japanese title, and like Kirakira, features the story of someone other than Onew in its music video (though he does appear in this one). It’s peppier from the outset, and feels like the OST of a drama set by the beach, which makes sense for a summer track. I especially enjoy its central message of joy and its encouragement for the little trials that life puts us through, and I admit that, though I expected to be bored at first, it won me over. From the EP, Life Goes On, my hidden gem was made by the 60’s indie-soft-rock vibes of Yoake No Sekai and the pathos and comfort in his voice in Lighthouse.

Circle is the first single I ever really saw from Onew, and it made me fall in love with his voice, for good reason. It’s so light and airy, but holds so much warmth and inner strength in it, which makes it quite unique. Circle is at times peaceful and soothing, and at others a little haunting with how high his voice goes. As a Wiccan, of course I appreciate the idea of life going on in cycles of seasons, years, and elements, and the ending with the full choir behind him mixed with the gentle strings and slow beat gave me goosebumps.

From the album, Circle, I had so many highlights: the coffee-shop vibeyness and percussive guitar of Rain On Me, the easy charm of Caramel (which reminded me of IU’s Bbibbi with its bubbly beat), the spacey synths of Anywhere, the soaring vocals and bright acoustic guitar of Paradise, the tongue-in-cheek vocalizing in the groovy No Parachute, and the cozy warmth of Walk With You. I completely understand why Billboard named it their top k-pop album of the year. Well deserved.

Inspiration and Knock On My Door are Japanese singles, and I won’t spend too much time on them. Inspiration combines a very classic K-pop winter sound (those twinkling sound effects!) with a peppy underlying beat, and is pretty enjoyable, as holiday-sounding songs go. Knock On My Door is slower and more stripped-back, opting once more for an acoustic guitar and the strength of Onew’s vocals to create what’s quite a pleasant song, but a bit forgettable.

I’m glad I did this! Looking through Onew’s discography is something I’ve been meaning to do for a while. I gained a brand new respect for Onew’s beautiful voice and how well it fits with strings. I don’t have the same emotional connection to his work that I do with Taemin’s, Key’s, and Jonghyun’s, but I think it could really grow on me in time.

My Top 5 songs are Kirakira, Circle, Everything, Life Goes On, and Shine On You, with No Parachute as an honorable mention. Onew gets an 8.25 out of 10 from me, which is about what I expected. Like with Kim Sejeong’s work, I’m not a fan of an overwhelming amount of ballads, but I found that besides that, it had a pretty decent balance. The genres he delves into aren’t always among my favorites, but when he nails it, he nails it.

Next time, we’ll be doing part 2 of the SHINHWA deep dive and a girl group supplemental. Tschüss!

[what-if-nct]

hiiii today's reminder is that tiktok about Patrick stump and Br*ndon Ur*e was so brave yet so very true. which brings me to my controversial opinion: hitting/holding a high note does not necessarily equal great vocal technique. don't get me wrong, it's a skill, and definitely impressive esp in men, but to me it just doesn't come close to people who know how to use their voice to sing. for context, i grew up learning a style of indian classical music called carnatic music, which is very heavy on tonal embellishment and very intricate riffs. and this definitely bleeds into mainstream music here. for context here's a song i love that leans into classical elements while still being pop https://youtu.be/zWEOx7TSM6I?si=WEfPpre6FvkrR4WR and this guy is one of the best in the industry, but you do need a very high entry level of this kind of skill to get in. and I love k pop music, i truly do, but there's a definite difference in the level of vocal technique I expect in a k pop song vs a bollywood song, even in the vocal forward ballads. all of which is to say while I do appreciate people who hit the high notes at the end of the bridge, there's people (here's a non-exhaustive list: onew, jonghyun, suho, taeyeon, taeil, doyoung, dokyeom) who know how to use their voices to their best. who know how to play with a simple melody to make it interesting while still keeping it at a level where it remains a balanced group song (which is precisely why I will fight for solo albums for all of these people). and they're all very expressive singers, which I think is the most important part. could they all do carnatic riffs? probably not any time soon, it would take years of training.

i had a point but I think I forgot what it was trying not to offend people oops. anyway listen to onew's album circle to understand what I mean about skill. that is it, good night

Hiii, Oh, Bangchan also said something similar to that and I do agree, holding a high note is definitely a skill within itself but it's not the sole indicator of a great vocalist. Like vocal control and knowing how to work with your voice is really important. I went to a magnet school in elementary, in 5th grade you get the chance to spend the final hour in an elective. So even though I really really wanted dance, I was too self conscious and chose music. And they did not go easy on us 5th graders. So there's so much that goes into vocal practice and training. And you can really tell when someone really mastered their voice as an instrument such as Sir Patrick Stump, vs Brandon who just goes "hey look what I can do". Also like with the singer you sent you can tell that years of training went into creating the control he has on his voice. Also I got so invested in the music video it was all so wonderful. I want to bring up Felix who yes is more of a rapper but his vocal range is unbelievable. Since his voice naturally is very deep the way that he can manipulate it depending on what is needed is amazing. deeper voices tend to not be as versatile. But his is, I would love to see what more vocal training and focus on singing could do for him. I love Onews voice, I love Onew. He's my favorite little guy. SM does have amazing vocalists. I totally understood what you meant, Goodnight. Sleep well.

[kpoptarotvibes]

Not gonna lie Namjoon is great at a lot of things but boy oh boy does he have his shortcomings. He has a lot more passive personality than we realise. To me there’s this big paradox with him that I can’t get over, which is he has undoubtedly the deepest thoughts and questions about life and all things beyond this earth but at the same time is so obsessed over the Grammys and money to the point where HE SEEMINGLY to us old fans DID NOTHING to prevent the group from losing quality and meaning. I am honestly ashamed to say this but can I just admit that I am not looking forward to their 2025 comeback?!!

Like there is potentially still a chance that they find what they lost but it’s not going to be the same, cause let me tell you ain’t no way from now till 2025 some scandal is coming out or even marriage lol. I felt the same with Yet to come they tried to create this nostalgia but failed to do so since you can tell they are acting like what they used to be not what they have become. I am mostly looking out for the solos but I am still afraid they’re going to try to make it commercial in some type of way. Jimin and Jk are already out of reach from fans and my guess is it’s not going to get any better, they are done. They are living what their teenage selves couldn’t. Only Tae is active with fans and in the industry and I’ll give him that, he is the only one that I feel tries to keep up with fans and seems to care more than just doing it for the promotions.

I am a little side eyeing the rest to be honest, like okay I see you, now that you don’t need us you act like we never existed..seriously though Jimin and Jk GET IT TOGETHER….

I hope you can share your thoughts on some points I made cause I really feel like us old armys are numbered in these streets. Please make it as long as you wish!!!

Whew! Old Army is a dying breed out here in these streets.

I mean you hit the nail on the head for me about this paradox with him. On one hand you deep af and the other your selfish and almost obsessed with money and awards. Like he is so passive to the point where like almost anything goes with them and what the group has to go through. To us old fans it looked like he said yes to everything and lets try anything without even being mindful of what there brand was and is. I personally think he really enjoyed feeling his fame. That he was either blinded or didn’t care what that was doing to to the group image in the long run.

I don’t know I’m still holding out hope that they would at least pull a good sounding album and comeback in 2025. Because I was losing hope then they came out with the ON album and I was like okay we back on it again. But then everything after that wasn’t what it needed to be got back off track. But you are right it might not be the same because again we are facing the everyone putting all the songs at #1 so they don't know what to put out. They lost thier sound.

I’m so nervous one of these stupid reporters is going to go on the news and lie on one of these members of BTS. Making them have scandal like they did Big Bang and ruin them. Because they can’t defend themselves well in the military. I swear I’m not believing nothing from Korean media. If anything comes out. 

I agree with the Yet To Come the whole thing just seemed off. Like if you were going to say goodbye just say goodbye. I also felt like that whole song when you look at the lyrics was a little hypocritical. I think thats why it had a hard time sticking too. Because they were saying they didn’t care about the achievements but your fans did and was literally fighting everyone for it. So…

These solos are going to be interesting because one each member had no chance to develop there own style and brand. Its also seems that they are not that great at promoting and managing the members solos either. So this is going to be very interesting on how this is going to go and turn out. 

Honestly do you blame them for being out of touch with these unrealistic fans. When it comes to them all common sense leaves. I would be done too. The way they have acted with Jimin and Jungkook demanding things and being mad if they are dating someone. Being in this Kpop system at such a young age not being able to enjoy the basic things of our youth that we take for granted. Yeah I think they deserve to be out of reach living they normal lives. 

I have noticed with Tae was he has a real attachment to the fans because I remember what he was saying to Jungkook in In The Soop. How he had a hard time not seeing the fans and being alone. I think there are things about fame he has gotten attached to. And I think thats why he tries to stay connected with the fans. 

Look LOL! Let Jimin and JK have they time away from the spotlight everyone needs a break… The Kpop lifestyle for idols is not easy. It's not for the faint hearted.

[thisaintascenereviews]

Hardy - Quit!!

I don’t quite believe in the idea of a “guilty pleasure,” because I’m at the point in my music fandom that if I like something, I like it. The closest I’ve come to it is in the beginning of 2023 when country artist / songwriter Hardy dropped his second album, The Mockingbird & The Crow. Hardy is a songwriter turned artist himself that’s responsible for Florida Georgia Line becoming popular, ultimately bringing bro-country to the world for about five years or so. In recent years, though, he’s turned to making his own music, finally getting a breakthrough with “Wait In The Truck” with Lainey Wilson in the last couple years.

I’ve listened to his debut solo album, and it was fine, albeit generic country, but Mockingbird is a different beast entirely. It’s a double album that has one half being country and the other being hard-rock. The country half of the album was pretty straightforward and generic, but it had some decent hooks and lyricism. The rock side was a little better, despite being a butt-rock album. It had the catchier and more energetic songs, but I’m not going to pretend they were great.

The Mockingbird & The Crow was a rather ambitious record, but it was also pretty bland and self-indulgent that showed Hardy wanting to have his cake and eat it, too, especially by wanting to have a more ambitious project in a new sound that still has generic country songs that will surely be played on the radio. Fast forward two years later, and we got his follow-up, entitled Quit!! This record, along with its title track, is an ode to the “haters,” specifically someone that wrote “quit” on a napkin at an open mic.

I wasn’t looking forward to it, because that song is awful, and so were the other songs that preceded this record, but I wanted to check it out so see if maybe the songs would be better in context, or if the album would be stronger as a whole, versus the lead singles. Unfortunately, “Quit” is exactly what I would do if I put this stinker out into the world for everyone to hear, because this is a really bad album, and it’s easily one of the worst of the year. Not only does this album have no idea what it wants to be, at least when it comes to its sound, hardly any of these ideas are what I’d call “good.”

As much as I was a Mockingbird & The Crow apologist, and thought that album was “okay,” this one is bad. Right off the bat, we got the title track, and this is a very obnoxious rap-rock track that he feels the need to employ here, but it’s all about how he won’t quit, despite people not liking him. He’s really obsessed with this idea, because he also talked about that a lot on the previous album.

The subject doesn’t get any better as the album goes on, as the following track “Rockstar” is a play on songs about being a rockstar, I guess, but it’s not funny and annoying. Most of the lyrics on this album, as well as the overall sound, is pretty bland, but it doesn’t get too bad. This album is mostly the kind of bad that I don’t like at all, but it’s easy to ignore. Hell, the album mainly sticks to a country-rock sound that has some decent hooks, but the album leaves a pretty sour taste in my mouth a few times.

Sure, the title track is cringy, and the song “Good Girl Phase” is kind of weird, but they’re not offensively bad. “Psycho” is the main song on here that I’m baffled Hardy wrote, recorded, and put on this album. The song is basically about how Hardy is a terrible partner, and if his girlfriend left him, he lists the crazy things he would do to make her miserable, so she should feel guilty to leave him. Despite the song clearly trying to be a joke, it’s not funny, and it just makes him look bad, like why would anyone want to be with him if he’s going to do that?

A few other songs get close to that, such as “Soul4Sale,” which has Fred Durst sounding the worst he’s ever sounded, and it’s a painfully generic song about selling your soul to be popular or something. A couple songs are actually okay, including the couple songs about his wife, “WHYBMWL,” and “Six Feet Under,” but they’re also super bland, both musically and lyrically, they’re just not outwardly bad. They’re at least more sentimental, and they have more defined hooks and structures, versus being loud and obnoxious.

Loud and obnoxious are the best two descriptors of this album, especially at its worst. Hardy isn’t a very good singer (or lyricist, for that matter), and it shows when he has to do anything that’s out of his limited range, so a lot of these hooks are awful, or very forgettable. Now at its best, it’s generic country-rock, but also very forgettable. Quit has a few of the worst songs of the year, and I still would throw this on a worst of list, but it didn’t piss me off as much as a few other albums did throughout the year. It’s bad, but it’s the kind of bad that you’ll forget about in a day or two, instead of letting it eat you alive as some bad albums can do.

[agentroz]

Monday, November 13 -- #OOTD: Come up with five significant full outfits from your character’s wardrobe/life and describe them in detail. 

Warnings: Body image issues, objectification, sexual harassment, misogyny, references to murder (not described)

Dispatches from Disguises and Alibis, 1983-1984

Agent 100:

Enclosed you will find your materials for your upcoming mission. please see that they are returned in a timely fashion.

-D&A

Date: 16 February 1983 Mission Location: Manchester, UK Target: Redacted Contents: Nurse's uniform (dress, stockings, shoes, headpiece)

Roz runs her fingers over the starchy blue material, standard-issue for women in the profession. There's an accompanying headpiece that Roz can't imagine serves a medical purpose as well as some white stockings and nonslip shoes that seem much more practical. There's an irony to it, the way this uniform is supposed to be for people who save lives instead of ending them. But the target deserves it, Roz is certain, and she had better act fast before he can cause any more misery and suffering. She slips the syringe into a hidden pocket in her uniform dress, takes one last look in the mirror, and goes outside to await her transport to the hospital.

She almost freezes when the doctor gives her an up-down look. Does he suspect something? Is she going to bungle her first solo mission?

And then she realizes. No one's ever looked at her that way before. She thought she'd like it more.

Date: 10 July 1983 Mission Location: Palma, Mallorca Target: Redacted Contents: Bikini, sarong

HQ must have made a mistake. There's no way this minuscule bikini was actually meant for her. There's an accompanying floral sarong (and thank goodness for that, because Roz needs somewhere to hide the knife) but it barely covers anything, and Roz feels entirely exposed. Not in the way agents are supposed to be— she knows her story backwards and forwards— but she's acutely aware of the curves of her body, the way she seems to spill out of the thin material. Like that cheesy old song about the yellow polka-dot bikini— except this is a turquoise one, with little strings that tie in the front.

When she raises this with the handler, he shakes his head. "No, that's correct," he says, double-checking the notes. "It's perfect, actually. the less you're wearing, the less likely anyone'll suspect you're hiding anything. And, I mean, it'll certainly distract the target. Why, have you got a problem with it?"

Roz shakes her head. She wants to be a good agent, a good killer. She can put up with some men staring at her ass. How hard can it be?

Date: 29 August 1983 Mission Location: Atlantic City, New Jersey Target: Redacted Contents: T-shirt, khaki shorts, crew socks, fanny pack, trainers

A scratchy cotton T-shirt, a pair of khaki shorts, a fanny pack, and some chunky New Balance sneakers. Another resort town, but this time Roz isn't bringing men cocktails on the beach, she's standing watch outside Caesars Palace pretending to take photos. Another agent leapt at the chance to go into the casino and carry out the deed, and Roz didn't think the handler wanted to give it to Roz anyway after the near-disaster that was Mallorca.

She feels much more herself, standing here and blending into the scenery. Until she hears a man yell something vulgar— and as much as she'd like to pretend otherwise, it's definitely aimed at her. Despite her training, Roz flinches. The man's far away, and he's already set his sights on someone else, but she feels a twinge of fear.

She doesn't understand it— she's always thought she was so good at blending in. Is it the shorts? Are they too short? Does it even matter, or will they just find a way anyway? Maybe it's the seedy nature of this boardwalk, or the fact that it's so late at night... Roz is quite good at cracking codes. She's sure she'll crack this one.

Date: 31 December 1983 Mission Location: London, UK Target: Redacted Contents: Evening gown, pearl necklace, pearl earrings, pearl hairpin (poison dart)

Roz doesn't like this dress either, but she doesn't say anything about it. She's one of the newest, youngest recruits, after all, and she still hasn't forgotten about Mallorca. She doesn't think anyone else has, either. So she sucks in her stomach and squeezes into the shiny blue Gunne Sax dress and pretends to like the way it hugs her curves and dips low in the front. The full skirt leaves plenty of room, anyway, for a concealed weapon, though all she really needs is the little pin that's going into her teased blonde hair. That's where the tranquilizing poison in, which will perfectly set up her associate for the kill.

She establishes herself in a quiet corner, hoping, as usual, to blend into the scenery. An older woman brings a martini over.

"All these young girls, made up like street whores. All clamoring for the same kind of attention." the woman snorts, which confuses Roz. They all looked like they followed the same instructions from HQ that Roz followed. And through her cat-eye glasses, she can see plenty of them looking less-than impressed with the men who seem to want their attention. And yet nobody's commenting on them.

She just nods, though, instead of disagreeing, because she is supposed to blend in.

Date: 20 February 1984 Mission Location: Cambridge, UK Target: Redacted Contents: Biohazard suit

Roz feels safe behind the big bright biohazard suit, her face barely visible, every inch of her body covered. Not just from the fumes in the lab, but from the other technicians as well. Until she doesn't. And that's when she realizes: there is no code to crack. Because it's not about clothes, or bodies. It's about something else, and it's forever.

[jazzandotherthings2]

Enjoying Life

My head hurts. It shouldn’t hurt this much. My phone screen is too bright when I turn off the alarm. The worst part of being an adult is that I’m expected to force myself out of bed in the mornings. I don’t bother turning the lights on, or opening the curtains, so I get dressed in the dark. It’s not hard; I know my apartment like a home. 

It doesn’t take long for me to get ready. I stand in the bathroom, black button down on but unbuttoned, and run wet fingers through my hair to make it presentable. I’m doing a wedding today, which means I want to look nice. 

I text Alona on my way out the door: Big plans this weekend?

On Wednesday, I didn’t get a chance to see her. Instead, I spent the day with Alex. We didn’t do anything big, but he came over to my apartment, where we did nothing together. He stared at his phone while I read a book, and occasionally we grunted in each other’s general direction. I cooked pasta for lunch- that’s a lie. I cooked ramen noodles, adding mushrooms, carrots, jalapenos, kimchi, and fried eggs on top. It’s not fancy, just whatever I had leftover in the fridge. 

My phone buzzes once I’m safely on the train again. I’ve got a lot of work to do before my flight.

When do you leave

Wednesday

Where to

California. The little dots appear, like she’s typing something else. Any chance we can meet up between now and then?

Where and when

Alona successively types and deletes a message three times, not sending any of them. She’s the type of person who somehow always has the energy to focus on her work. She will just work the entire time.

Before she can respond, I say, I should be home at like midnight tomorrow, but that’s kinda late. ANd i’ve got nothing on Sunday between 2 and 3

She replies, I’ll see what I can do.

The wedding reception is nice. Sam, Kathrine, Alex, and I play Cheek to Cheek and La Vie en Rose and other gentler jazz songs. 

We’re towards the end of the gig, and the guests are just starting to leave. My fingers are starting to get tired, but I’m not dragging. In general, the band is switching to pick longer, slower songs. Stan Getz’s Misty is coming to a close. “Excuse me-” One of the bridesmaids is signaling to me, and I’m closest to the front of the band. “Can you play Just the Two of Us next?” 

I nod, fingers not faltering, and glance at Sam. They’ll know I had a request, and that we should end this one soon. During gigs, we tend to start with songs that have shorter forms, like we’re all excited to play. Let me make it clear: a shorter form does not mean a shorter song, especially not when I take two or three solos in a row. To be fair, Alex didn’t seem super interested in taking any, and Sam, true to bassists’ form, only solos at the end. Trading off solos is kinda weird. You just look at the band, and see who nods at you most noticeably, and hold eye contact for a moment. 

Sam takes the next solo, and I watch Alex’s hands so we’re in sync. Every now and then, he or I will respond to something in Sam’s playing, and the other of us will fall out so the music is clear. Of everyone in the band, Alex is the one I’ve played with the longest. We know each other’s styles. For example, Alex does not like making things funkier. I do. That’s the only way the music goes anywhere. Like, it feels so obvious. Alex knows this too. I think he chooses not to out of spite. 

“What’s next?” Sam whispers, leaning forward.

“Just the Two of Us,” I reply.

Alex’s hands find the place where they sit on the piano, careful not to press any keys. He nods. “No solos?”

Sam shakes their head. “I think they want the recorded version.”

My fingers find the strings, well-worn callouses brushing against the rough strings. The guitar vibrates, filling with sound and filling the world around me. It sounds nice.

The bride comes up to me next. “Can you play The Way You Look Tonight?” I nod, and she smiles before fluttering off. With a glance at Sam, they already know what song we’re doing next. They must have heard.

I know this song by heart. We can make it if we try. just the two of us. Sam looks at me, and then at Kathrine. She nods her head to me, and I nod back. Communication is strange. 

I look at Alex, only to find him grinning at me. In time with the music, he mouths, just the two of us. You and I. He knows what’s coming.

At the end of the refrain, the drums and bass hit together three times, signaling that they’re falling out. And then it’s me and Alex, passing the melody between us. Slowing down the song at the end makes the shift between this one and the next one a little less jarring. The drums and bass carry the power of the band. They drive the sound forwards. Without them, it’s easier to slow the song down.

Finally, I play three chord hits as the verse fades to the refrain, and it’s just Alex, slowing down the song, bringing the end with a riff up and back down a scale. It sounds nice. It’s the kind of music you might expect to hear at a wedding with live music. 

After, as we’re packing up, Kathrine asks Alex, “why’d you hesitate?”

“What?”

“When we were dropping out on just the two of us, you were, like, a half a beat late to come in.” It didn’t seem like that big a deal. We’d been playing for almost five hours at that point, of course he’s feeling a little tired. We all are. “It seemed a little odd.”

“Yeah,” Alex shakes his head. “I don’t know.”

“Huh.” She’s still judging him. 

“This is your drum set,” Sam scolds, reappearing in the room. “Are you going to help me carry it to the car or what?”

“I was taking it apart!” Kathrine counters. She is sitting on the ground, unscrewing pieces to put in the box of drum stands and such. 

“Sure you were.”

Alex hoists his keyboard bag on his shoulders and says, “Do you want to get dinner? I’m starving.”

Sam nods. “Let me go square up.” 

I’ve already packed up. My guitar is carefully stored in its bag. I have the easiest travel for all our friends. We share a car. It’s not really practical for all of us to have a car- we live in downtown Chicago- but it’s not a lot of fun to take a drumset on the train. Nevertheless, cars are expensive, and we split the costs. I don’t really need to go anywhere that can’t be gotten to by train, and it isn’t hard to take a guitar on the train, but there are some places I just can’t get. 

In case you’re somehow unaware, being a gig musician doesn’t pay well. Not everyone needs to hire live music for every event, and even then it doesn’t pay well. During the day, Kathrine works as a sound technician at a recording studio. Sam is a band and orchestra director at a public high school. Alex is an accompanist. He works with recording musicians, dance companies, music schools, and theater companies. That’s what he actually studied to do professionally. He’s also basically the entire reason I moved to Chicago, not that I regret it. 

“Where are we getting dinner?” Kathrine asks. I hold the door for her as she lugs the bass drum out to the car.

“You know the cafe out by Evan’s place?” Alex suggest. It’s a jazz cafe, as in one that invites jazz groups to play. We play every other Thursday there, and some Fridays, too. Pay’s pretty good, but it’s mostly in tips so it can vary from night to night. It’s one of the few gigs where we’re encouraged to dive into the music. It’s where I can make a solo just because it’s fun to play, and trust that people will like it regardless. It’s a jazz club, everyone there goes to hear jazz. “We could go there.” I perform there on Tuesdays too, with a different group. Well, it’s actually two and a half groups shoved together. It’s networking: when they need a guitarist, they’ll call me in, and when I need someone, I’ll call one of them in.

“They don’t have great food though,” Sam points out.

“I mean, they have fine food if you’re drinking enough.”

“I’m 30,” They say, “I’m too old for this.” They’re the oldest of our group.

“Let us enjoy our youth,” Kathrine, the youngest, counters, taking Alex’s bag to arrange in the trunk of the car. My amp finds a home in the footroom of the shotgun seat, half tucked beneath Sam’s bass. There’s not a lot of space left for my guitar, but that’s fine. I don’t mind carrying it. 

“You think getting wasted is the definition of youth?”

“Well it’s gotta be part of it,” She replies.

“Well then.” Sam twirls their keys around their finger. “Meet you there?”

“Ok,” Alex says. “Actually, can you charge my phone on the way?”

“What if you need to call someone?”

Alex throws an arm over my shoulders, putting what I swear is his entire body weight on me. “I’ll just make Evan do it for me.” I give him a side glance, but I don’t protest.

We walk to the train stop. Alex and Kathrine are comparing notes on annoying nicknames they’ve been called. Allie and Kat and other such things. The train is almost empty. There’s only two other people on the car. 

My phone buzzes halfway to our stop. Since when were there so many goddamn choices for types of cheese? I just want one sandwich, Alona complains. Not a bag of slices.

I text her back immediately. What kind of cheese are you looking for?

I don’t even know

What kind of sandwich are you making?

One with coleslaw, pickles, onions, jalapenos, tomatoes, and, in an ideal world, cheese on it. 

What kind of sandwichich is that

The one I’m making.

Hmm… I reply, and then, in a separate text, prob swiss or provolone

But like why don’t they sell just a few slices?

Do you know any shops that do that

The dairy at home will sell me as much or as little cheese as I want. Or I could just go to my sister’s house and cut two slices or whatever.

I don’t have any cheese at my house but if you buy cheese and bring the rest to my house I’ll probably eat it eventually

Provolone or swiss?

Either

Swiss

Good choice

“Who are you texting?” Kathrine asks. 

I shrug. “A friend of mine.”

Alex is giving me a weird look. He knows most (all) of my friends. Except for Alona. She’s just mine, and I don’t need to share her attention when I get it. “Who?” 

I shrug again. He’s giving me a look, like he knows something I don’t. “What?” He starts laughing. “What is it?”

“Nothing.” He still has a small smile curling the corners of his lips. 

When we’re at the bar, seated against the wall, with Alex sipping something so strong that I can smell it from across the table, we order food. I’ve got a coke, and fries, and it’s a good night. It’s a really good night. 

[domjaehyun]

KISS U RIGHT NOW (L.MK)

pairing. mark lee x fem!reader genre. some fluff, smut word count. 6.9k contents. kissing, breast play, fingering (receiving), oral (giving), unprotected sex

summary. in which mark just really wants to kiss you. alternative summary. five times mark wanted to kiss you and one time he actually does.

notes. happy (belated) birthday @najaemarkl !! this fic is based off the song ‘kiss u right now’ by duckwrth 🥰

saturday.

Mark thinks he might be going insane.

Mark is standing in the middle of this party on a Saturday night, red Solo cup in his hand, surrounded by dancing bodies, among which there are undoubtedly several girls who would go for him.

Mark is standing in the middle of this party, and all he can think about is how badly he wants to kiss you, his best friend. 

monday.

It started as an inkling these past couple of weeks, but it got a little stronger on Monday, a persistent nagging feeling as he watched you in the back of your shared Linguistics class. You’d knocked your dangly earring out in your hurry to raise your hand and answer a question your professor had asked, and were currently preoccupied with lightly dragging the point of the earring hook against your lobe in an attempt to find the piercing hole.

There’s something about the soft tilt of your head, the focused look on your face as you devote your attention to putting your earring back in, and the way the tip of your tongue peeks out in concentration that has Mark seeing you in a light getting further and further from platonic by the day. 

He wants to feel your tongue against his lips, wants to caress that space of your neck you’re thoughtlessly exposing to him with his hand, feel the soft skin under his fingertips, tilt your chin towards him and lean forward to connect your lips. You’re nibbling at your bottom lip now as you write something down in your notes, and Mark bets you wore that lip balm he’s always loved the smell of, unbeknownst to you due to his never mentioning it, and he wishes he could just lean over and see how it tastes—

“Mark!” You whisper, placing your hand on his thigh just a centimeter above his knee, and Mark jolts out of his stupor, meeting your gaze with a sheepish tint to his cheeks and ears that he prays you don’t notice or ignore. “I asked if you have correction tape? I made a mistake.” You frown and Mark almost spirals all over again at the sight of your bottom lip jutting out in a pout that he just wants to kiss over and over until it goes away in favor of a smile. 

“Uh, yeah—I definitely do,” He stumbles over his words as he roots through his pencil case and finds it, passing it to you. Your hands touch, fingers brushing the other’s palm, as you take it from him with a grateful smile, and Mark knows you definitely don’t think much of it, but he’s thinking about how soft your hand is, how warm, how he wishes he could just reach over and hold it for no reason other than the fact that he wants to.

Mark’s not sure if this wave of wanting to kiss you is going away anytime soon, but he hopes it does—for his sake.

tuesday.

Mark’s inkling, his persistent nagging feeling, turns into a whisper on Tuesday, accompanied with a phantom tugging sensation that he fears might literally pull him towards you for more than comfort when he comes over to your dorm, as requested, to see a very sad and teary-eyed you sitting on your rug dejectedly. He almost drops the takeout bag he carefully carried from your favorite Chinese food restaurant to your dorm, and he cannot afford such a financial loss, so he clutches onto it protectively.

The glossy look in your eyes, lashes, now wet with tears, clumping together, your pouty bottom lip—that damn lip—trembling slightly with the weight of unshed tears, and the occasional sniffles you let out almost make Mark drop the damn takeout bag, the male floored by how pretty someone can look when they cry. He approaches you carefully, settling down on the rug beside you and folding his limbs in somewhat clumsily. When you look over at his struggle, a small chuckle escapes you, and Mark’s heart clenches at the sound, eyes sweeping over your frame to assess any physical injuries you might have. Finding none, Mark sighs in relief and slumps back, his head resting against the side of your covered mattress.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Mark asks softly. You hadn’t specified what was wrong in your distress signal text; you only sent “SOS,” your and Mark’s Best Friend Code for “come over and bring comfort food,” and Mark readily complied as soon as he caught sight of the notification banner; he’s not sure if this is a symptom of being hopelessly whipped for you or just a testament to the strength of your friendship.

He’s pretty sure it’s the former, as another glance at your tear-streaked cheeks sends his poor heart lurching again, but Mark really hopes for his sake that it’s the latter.

“No,” You mumble, sniffling twice before meeting his gaze with wide, shining eyes that, to Mark, are just screaming for him to lean forward and capture your lips with his. “Just need you here.”

“I’m here,” Mark promises, and sets about opening the takeout containers and laying everything out as nicely as he can, even using some textbooks from his backpack and your desk as a makeshift table. “I got your favorite.” He says hopefully, spearing a piece of chicken and bringing it to your lips expectantly. You laugh softly, the sound fond, your cheeks lifting into a smile as you lean forward, accept the forkful, and chew, relief taking over your body as Mark watches you visibly relax.

You slump against Mark’s arm, resting your head against his shoulder, and Mark prays you can’t hear the pounding of his heartbeat which sounds out loud and clear in his own ears. Mark drapes an arm around your shoulders and tries not to stiffen when you turn yourself inwards, tucking yourself into his side and humming softly, tries not to let his desires take over and give in to the tugging feeling that urges him to nudge your head up with his own and slot your lips together.

Mark really isn’t sure if he can hold out much longer.

wednesday.

Wednesday almost has Mark caving when you two lie on his bed, watching movies on his laptop. You’re so close, the side of your thigh pressed up against his, hips brushing, shoulders touching, and Mark knows it’d be so easy to turn and press his lips to yours. 

To make matters worse, Mark’s eyes keep trailing down to your chest, which moves every time you laugh, and by the time you’re engrossed in the film, Mark’s lost interest entirely, instead opting to study your features and reactions. Try as he might, Mark’s eyes continue to wander down to your breasts, shamefully gazing as if looking hard enough would grant him the feeling of what it’d be like to touch you.

Mark’s finally coming to accept that he wants to do more than kiss you; far more, actually. He wants to touch you, hold you, be intimately familiar with the taste and feel of you—

More than anything, though, Mark wants to love you. If you’d let him. He wants to make you smile, laugh, understand the meaning of love songs—he wants to spin you around in the rain and leave kiss after kiss against your lips and trailing down your neck to your collarbones. He wants to buy you thoughtful gifts and watch your eyes light up; he wants to be the one to wipe your tears and kiss everything all better.

He wants, firstly, however, to know if you even want that from him. He hopes you do. Overwhelmed by his thoughts and unshakable desires, Mark reaches up and fitfully runs his fingers through his hair, no doubt messing it up. He mumbles a quick apology when his sudden movement causes you to jolt in surprise, looking over at him. To his confusion, you don’t look away yet, observing him for another moment before leaning towards him.

Is this it? Is this the moment Mark’s been dreaming about for ages? He can barely contain his excitement, reflexively nibbling his bottom lip out of nervous habit, and he tries to remember to breathe, to relax, there’s no good in kissing someone who’s stiff as a board—

“You messed your hair up,” You murmur distractedly, reaching up and ruffling his hair, adjusting it until he looks presentable. “All better,” You say sweetly with a soft smile, and Mark wants nothing more than to cup your face and kiss you over and over and over until your smile is so wide he can’t kiss you anymore.

Do you have any idea what you’re doing to him? Mark hopes you don’t, because that would be uncharacteristically cruel of you.

“Thanks,” He forces out a small chuckle, and your brows furrow instantly, of course they do, you know each other like the back of your hand.

“You okay?” You ask curiously, a tinge of worry in your voice, and Mark nods reassuringly. “You sure? You can talk to me about anything, you know.”

As Mark successfully de-escalates the situation and redirects your attention to the movie, he can’t help but think that there are, unfortunately, some things he might be better off keeping to himself.

thursday.

By Thursday, Mark doesn’t know how much longer he can hold his feelings in. He’s driving down the road, endlessly pursuing the night if it means staying by your side, and you’re sitting right next to him, content as can be.

“Were we supposed to be turning soon?” Mark asks, and you look over at him, shrugging.

“I dunno.” 

“You’re riding shotgun,” Mark chuckles, adjusting his grip on the steering wheel and looking over at you. “You’re in charge of directions.”

“Nuh-uh,” You counter, furrowing your brows—very cutely, Mark thinks to himself—and turning slightly to face him better. “I’m a passenger princess.”

“Oh, yeah?” Mark snickers, and you nod firmly, settling back into your seat.

“Yep,” You reply, popping your lips on the “p.” “I’m in charge of looking pretty and maintaining the good vibes.”

“Well, in that case, you’re doing an excellent job,” Mark replies with a laugh, barely registering his words until they’ve settled in the now thick air between you two.

“…Did you just call me pretty, Mark?” You tease, reaching over and tugging at his pinking ear.

“Don’t distract the driver!”

“Answer my question!”

“Maybe I did.” He admits, and you smile widely, flipping down the mirror and checking your reflection. Mark steals a glance while you do, studying the slope of your nose, the curl of your lashes, and the faint pucker of your lips as you reapply your lip balm, the faint but pleasant scent of cherry Chapstick wafting past Mark’s nose.

He’s never been one for cherries, but he can honestly say he’s never wanted to taste them so badly in his life.

“Why, thank you, Mark.” You don’t yet look at him, fixing your hair in the mirror before flipping it back up, and Mark’s eyes rove over your face with an almost hunger, drinking in your beauty as you sit beside him, entirely unaware. When you turn to look at him, he shifts his gaze back to the road as if he’d never been looking, and you hum thoughtfully, picking up your phone and connecting it to the Bluetooth speakers in his car. “Any requests?”

“Nah, play what you want,” Mark offers. “I trust your taste in music.”

“Mark, you’re just killing it with the compliments tonight.” You say gleefully, stretching your legs out before you cross one leg over the other. Mark can see the faint line of muscle in the side of your thigh, and he wants so desperately to run his fingers along it, press his lips to the indentation, leave kisses lower and lower and back up until his mouth grazes your inner thighs— “Who are you practicing on me for?”

“I’d never use you as practice,” Mark replies indignantly, offended that you’d even suggest such a thing. 

“Sorry,” You stress the word with a playful lilt as you raise your hands defensively. “Was just asking.” The car falls into a comfortable silence between you two as the song you picked plays in the car speakers. ‘Crush’ by DUCKWRTH sounds throughout the car, and Mark can barely hold back his chuckle at just how apt your song choice is. 

He’s crushing, and he’s crushing bad. 

He can’t help but steal glances at your bare legs as he drives, eyes gravitating towards that damn muscle, and he’s moving before he knows it, reaching over to you with his closest hand. He wants to stop, pretend it never happened, but he’s more than halfway to you and to stop now would mean an awkward retreat of his hand back to his lap, and he doesn’t think his pride could handle that.

He swallows hard and pushes past his worries—literally—and pats your knee comfortingly, his hand almost trembling under the feeling of your warm, soft skin under his palm.

“I wouldn’t do that to you.” Mark echoes his sentiment from earlier. “Use you as, like, flirting target practice or something.” He hopes he sounds sincere because he means every word. 

You have no idea that you’re the main event to Mark. 

You smile at him, eyes bright, and place one hand on top of his, patting it gently and leaving it there. Mark’s over the moon, floating on cloud nine, and it’s a miracle he can stay focused on the road and not swerve off from how frazzled his thoughts have become. 

“Passenger princess?” He calls to you, and you hum in acknowledgement, half-turning to look at him. “Can you go above and beyond your job description and look up the directions, please?” 

“Mm,” You hum thoughtfully, tapping your chin with your index finger of the hand holding your phone. “I guess I can do that.” You answer finally, shooting him a teasing grin before unlocking your phone and devoting your attention to it.

To be honest, Mark could drive for hours aimlessly if it meant getting to keep his hand on your leg and you by his side.

friday.

By the time you two get your food, eat it in Mark’s car, and drive somewhere to relax, it’s well past midnight and officially Friday, the night enveloping you two in its cool embrace. As soon as he puts the car in park, you’re leaping out of the passenger side door and making your way to the front of the vehicle.

Mark can’t help but chuckle as he gets out of the car and heads over to where you’re standing at the precipice of the overlook, all the city lights twinkling in the night.

“It’s so pretty,” You sigh dreamily, the lights reflecting in your eyes, and Mark can’t help but agree, his gaze only on you. You’re practically bouncing on your heels with excitement, bounding back over to his car and carefully sitting on the hood, crossing your legs at the ankles.

“It really is,” Mark echoes, but he’s still watching you, mentally hyping himself up for his next move. Swallowing thickly, he throws caution to the wind and walks over to where you sit, standing so your knees push against his hips. 

Mark’s not sure what he expected, but it certainly wasn’t for you to uncross your ankles and hook them behind his legs to pull him closer to you. You release him almost immediately, the moment fleeting, but the mischievous grin on your face sends Mark’s heart lurching as he wants nothing more than to cup your face and press his lips to yours. 

“What’s wrong?” You ask curiously, and Mark blinks out of his daze.

“Nothing?” He winces inwardly at how defensive he sounds, and by the unconvinced look on your face, you’ve picked up on it too.

“You’re biting your lip like you do when you get all…in your head.” You point out, tapping his chin lightly, and he swallows before releasing his poor bottom lip. “Let me in there, Mark.” You say softly, reaching up to trace light circles on his forehead. “What are you thinking?”

I want to kiss you. I want to kiss you so bad that it hurts, Mark groans internally, but says nothing yet. In an act of boldness he’ll surely regret later, he loops his fingers around your wrist and brings your hand down to your lap, slowly slipping his digits between yours. You smile down at your linked hands fondly, squeezing his hand comfortingly, and Mark thinks for one hopeful moment that you want him too. 

Mark looks up from your hands, pushing away the thoughts of how nicely they fit together, to see that you two are much closer than he thought; your eyelashes are close enough to count, and he can smell that fucking lip balm that drives him insane. A shaky breath leaves him before he can stop it, a breath of anticipation, of hope, of—

“Mark!” You laugh incredulously, and he jolts, sheepishly refocusing his gaze on you. “You disappeared again.” You murmur fondly, releasing his hand and trailing your fingers up his arm to tickle the back of his neck lightly. 

“Sorry,” Mark mumbles, nerves sitting tight in his throat, a lump he can’t seem to swallow, and you shake your head dismissively, smiling up at him.

“Will you take me with you next time?” You joke softly, and he nods before he knows he’s doing it, his body so tuned into you that he’d give you anything you want without a second thought. “Good.” You sigh, content, and Mark makes another bold move, acting on his desires for the second time tonight—third if you count his touching your leg in the car—and stepping closer until his knees hit the bumper, placing his hands on the car on either side of your body to tentatively trap you in. 

Your bright eyes look up at him curiously and, if he’s allowing himself to indulge in his thoughts, challengingly, as if daring him to take the step he so desperately wants to. His chest swells with anticipation, his eyes slowly dropping down to your lips, and he thinks for a moment about leaning in and biting the bullet. 

But flashes of your panicked, nervous, even disgusted possible reaction to him have Mark popping the balloon of hope suddenly, an awkward laugh forcing itself out instead as he leans back from you slightly, freeing you from his embrace.

“You’re welcome anywhere I go,” Mark assures you. 

Your responding smile almost soothes the ghostly chill of rejection Mark imagined.

Almost.

saturday. (again.)

A cracking noise startles Mark out of his thoughts, with him quickly coming to realize that his grip on his cup has tightened considerably, denting the cup. He’s about to go and toss the cup, having lost his taste for the drink inside, when he hears his name being called from behind him.

“Hey, you.” Your voice cuts through the sounds of the party with ease, and Mark turns his head as your arms wrap around him in a tight backhug. “What are you thinking about?”

“Nothin’, really.” Mark answers, shrugging casually.

“I ask because you love this song, and yet you were just standing in the middle of the floor like a statue.” You snicker, and he balks, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. 

“Oh, nothing, for real; just thinking about school.”

“Thinking about school on a Saturday night? Don’t we come here to do the exact opposite of that?” You tease, and he chuckles, nodding in agreement. “Come with me to the bathroom? I need you to stand guard.” You grin widely in an attempt to convince him, and Mark fights back the urge to chuckle. 

You have no idea that he’d do damn near anything for you.

“C’mon.” He murmurs, jerking his head in the direction of the stairs, and you follow just a step behind him, Mark’s hand ghosting along the small of your back as he guides you through the many bodies. For a brief second, Mark loses you, the feel of your back slipping away startling him into turning around to see you a couple of feet back stuck behind a kissing couple. 

He moves back towards you, hand returning to your back as you graciously lean into him, and continues making his way through the crowd, keeping you closer to him than before. Your hand grips the hem of his shirt—Mark guesses it’s so you two don’t get separated again—and Mark’s hand accidentally dips under the hem of your shirt, fingertips briefly grazing the bare skin of your waist. His mind reeling, Mark moves his fingers and, if you notice, you say nothing, readily following him upstairs to the bathroom.

When you two reach the door, the last thing Mark expects is for you to pull him into the bathroom with you, the sound of the door clicking shut finally letting the situation sink in. 

“Are you sure you want me in here—”

“I’m not actually using the bathroom, Mark.” You laugh, leaning up against the sink and inspecting your reflection. Mark watches as you pull your lip balm from your pocket and apply it to your lips, and he can’t help but wonder if you’re doing this on purpose. “I missed you, y’know.” You hum thoughtfully, and Mark makes a surprised sort of sound.

“Yeah?” He asks, trying and failing to hide his incredulity. 

“Yep,” You confirm. You turn to face him with a (very cute) frown. “Did you not miss me?”

“No—I mean yes, of course I did—”

“Then why wouldn’t I miss you?” You counter, and he presses a hand over his face, laughing despite his building nerves.

“You just love messing with me, don’t you?” He chuckles, and you shrug, lips curling into a beguiling smile.

“I like pulling you out of your head, Mark.” You say. “I like knowing what you’re thinking.”

Mark thinks that it’s basically now or never; when else is he going to get the opportunity to tell you how he feels?

“You know, lately, I’ve been thinking about—” Mark starts off boldly, but he cuts himself off at the last minute, still unsure if he wants to take that forward step and possibly ruin your relationship.

“Mark, you’re always so in your head.” You chuckle fondly, leaning in towards him. “Thinking about what?”

“Thinking about…kissing you.” Mark finishes slowly, and the look in his eyes when he looks up from his shoes to meet your gaze is a look you’ve never seen from him before. He steps towards you, your feet inch back reflexively, and this continues as he slowly backs you up against the countertop, his hands coming to rest by your hips on the sink, carefully closing you in.

“Oh, yeah?” You hum, blinking slowly at him, and your lips curl into a small grin.

“Yeah.” Mark’s serious—more serious than you’ve seen him in a while—and the intensity in his gaze has arousal stirring in your lower abdomen as you watch him intently.

“And how long have you been thinking about this?” You ask softly, voice low and curious. Mark chuckles finally, looking away from you for a moment before answering you.

“A while.”

“How long is a while?” You press.

“Couple weeks.” He answers, knowing he’s severely lowballing it, and you roll your eyes, nudging his thigh with your knee.

“And you never thought to tell me this because…?” You question, and he shrugs dismissively.

“Didn’t think you were interested.” He replies, and you nod thoughtfully.

“Ah.” You say. “That’s stupid.” 

Mark lets out a small chuckle as he leans even closer to you, his face closer to yours than it’s ever been. “Don’t make me laugh right now.”

“Why not?” You tease, gently poking his stomach and trying to mask your surprise when you feel firm muscle as opposed to the squishiness you expected. “You can kiss me, you know.”

“Stop talking,” Mark groans, his brows furrowing, and you grin at him mischievously.

“Or what?” You’re lifting up onto your tiptoes, leaning in closer to him and stopping just before your lips connect. “What if I don’t?”

“I’ll make you.” His words thrill your mind and the warmth of his breath fanning over your lips thrills your body, your blood starting to buzz in anticipation.

“Mm, is that a threat or a promise?” You know Mark well enough to know he needs to be goaded into boldness, and you’re just the right person for the job.

“Whichever you want.” His voice is throatier, huskier, and almost unbearably attractive.

“I want you to shut up and kiss me already.” You lightly bump the tip of your nose against his, a wide, excited smile growing on your lips.

“I can do that.” He breathes, one hand coming up to cup the back of your neck as he pulls you in and finally connects your lips. The kiss isn’t an explosive fire right away, but a slow, warm one that builds steadily to an inferno as you two get used to the feeling and taste of each other. 

Mark’s mind is reeling, finally getting to taste your lip balm, which is almost as delicious as the unique taste that’s just you, and he thinks for a moment that he could probably stay there forever with you.

Before you can even process it, Mark’s kissing has morphed from cautious and hesitant to heated and passionate, and his hips press against you, pushing you against the countertop of the sink more insistently. His fingers on the back of your neck slip into the hair on your nape, tugging not-so-gently at the locks. When you softly gasp in surprise, he pulls back as if you’d shocked him, eyes wide and apologetic.

“Is this okay?” He asks worriedly, and you scoff, leaning into his embrace.

“Yes, Mark. Didn’t I say something along the lines of ‘less talking, more kissing?’” You huff, and he grins, pulling you back against him to slot your lips together once more. “You don’t have to be gentle, Mark—I can take it.”

“God, you’re gonna drive me insane.” He groans under his breath, sounding strained as he obliges and presses you against the countertop roughly, hands flying to your hips to lift you, guiding you on top of the sink. His lips detach from yours and start descending down your neck, sucking and licking, his fingers digging into your hips as he moans against your skin. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.” He grunts, nuzzling into your neck and breathing in your sweet scent as he presses his lips to your skin over and over. 

“That feels so good, Mark,” You hum, content with the feeling of Mark’s mouth working away at your neck.

“Can I—?” He starts, but you cut him off.

“You don’t need to ask about everything, Mark,” You chuckle fondly, pulling your neck away from his lips in favor of running your fingers through his hair and tugging gently. “If I don’t like it, I’ll tell you.” 

“Promise?” Mark mumbles worriedly.

You nod. “When have I ever missed out on an opportunity to complain about something?” You say playfully, and Mark relaxes visibly as he laughs and nods in agreement.

“Good point.” He murmurs, and you smile sweetly as you pull him in for another kiss. “In that case,” Mark says in a low tone, lips pressed to yours, “I’m gonna indulge for a bit.”

Before you can ask what he means by that, he’s yanking your shirt up and over your head and discarding it thoughtlessly on the floor, his hands finding your waist and slowly gliding up to your chest, where he cups your breasts and squeezes, kneading them and tugging gently at your nipples through your bra.

Without his having to ask, you reach back and unclip your bra, shrugging the straps off and letting the garment fall off of you. It lands between you and Mark on the floor and Mark looks down at it, up at you, down at your bare breasts with wide eyes, then back up at you in awe.

“Damn, you’re incredible,” He groans, his hands eagerly massaging and caressing your breasts as you arch your back in pleasure, pushing your chest towards him. His lips attach to your neck, kissing and nipping his way down to your chest, where he takes a nipple into his mouth. You moan lowly and tip your head back, hissing when his teeth catch your sensitive bud, tugging and releasing before swirling the tip of his tongue around it and sucking. He cups both of your breasts in his hands, pressing them together, before rolling his tongue over your nipples, moving from one to the other eagerly and punctuating his surprisingly skillful swirls with gentle nips. 

“Feels good, Mark,” You sigh dazedly, a lazy but content smile curling your lips, and he groans, the sound low in his throat, in response, sucking at your nipples with more fervor. He bathes your chest in wet kisses, groaning louder when you whine plaintively. 

His hand leaves your breast to snake between your bodies and unbutton your jeans, pushing into your underwear and stroking along your folds, parting them until he reaches the fleshy pearl of your clit. Your hips jolt at the touch, Mark releasing your nipple from the warmth of his mouth and moving up to kiss you as you rock down on his fingers.

His fingers, thicker than you expected, push past your entrance, two digits curling inside of you and eliciting a pleased hum from you. He slowly fucks his fingers into you, your walls slick and tight around them, and he can’t help but think about how tight you’re going to feel when he’s finally inside of you.

“Right there—” You whimper when he hits a spot that has your toes curling, and he chuckles, diligently thrusting his fingers into you repeatedly as your hands fly to his shoulders, nails digging into his skin and making him hiss. “Sorry,” You pant and he kisses the corner of your mouth sweetly, an unspoken acceptance of your apology. You turn his face to yours and kiss him full on, Mark moaning against your lips as your core flexes around him. 

You’re practically riding his fingers at this point, breathy whimpers escaping you as he strokes along your inner walls, your orgasm rapidly approaching. 

“Mark, ‘m gonna—” You moan, and he nods, flicking his tongue into your mouth and kissing you through your climax, the liplock turning sloppy and clumsy as your lips part to moan his name and a string of swears. 

As soon as the aftershock trembles disappear, you’re pushing him back gently, creating enough space between you two for you to slip off the sink and sink to your knees.

Mark thinks he could faint at the sight of you looking up at him, opening his pants with one hand. His cock aches at the prospect of your mouth wrapped around it, and he tilts your chin up to look at you better.

“You don’t have to, you know.” Mark assures you, and you roll your eyes.

“I know that, Mark.” Your hand wraps around the base of his cock and he hisses. “I want to.” Your mouth is around the head of his cock without a moment to prepare himself, and Mark swears—loudly—his head tipping back and thumping against the wall behind him. Mark whimpers, both in pain and from pleasure, and your giggle tickles his ears as you pull off of him and pump his length up and down, positioning yourself above his length to drip a trail of spit down onto his tip, working your fist over it to lubricate your movements. 

Mark blinks down at you in awe, shuddering when you take his length as far into your mouth as it’ll go, the tip of your nose pressed against his stomach as you swallow around him.

He whimpers when you start bobbing your head slowly, dragging your tongue along the underside of his cock with every movement. His breaths are ragged, chest heaving, blunt nails scratching uselessly at the wall behind him, and he curses when his hips buck up of their own accord, sending his length further into your mouth. There’s a moment of bliss when he’s smoothly sliding into your mouth only to be topped by a second of ecstasy when he hits the back of your throat, which flexes around him and drags out a groan of delight from deep in his chest.

“Sorry—” Mark whispers, poorly restraining the urge to thrust into your mouth. You pull off slowly, swiping your tongue over your lips to break the string of saliva connecting your bottom lip to his tip, and when you speak, your voice has a slight rasp to it that has Mark’s eyes practically rolling back into his head.

“Do you wanna fuck my mouth, Mark?” You ask with a beguiling smile, your hand slowly stroking his length, and it’s all he can do to stop his knees from buckling right now. 

“I’m not gonna last if I do,” He warns you in a choked voice, and you frown.

“But I want you to finish inside of me.” You huff petulantly, and he groans, gripping your wrist to stop your movements.

“You can’t say that or I’ll cum right now.” He complains, and you roll your eyes. 

“Then I’ll finish that later.” You decide, and Mark successfully contains his surprise at the prospect of doing this again with you. You stand back up and Mark’s hands move to your hips, the gesture almost second nature, before he’s gently pushing you back so you’re pressed up against the sink countertop. He nudges himself between your legs and brings the thick head of his cock to your entrance, gliding it up and down through your slick folds to collect your arousal. “Mark, we don’t exactly have the luxury of time.” You chuckle, and he narrows his eyes at you.

“Well, sorry for wanting to take my time with you.” He mumbles, and a fondness spreads through your body, your lips curling up into a sweet smile. He pushes into you slowly, and you hiss at the stretch, your best friend being more well-endowed than you expected. “Told you I should slow down.” Mark wants to gloat, but his heart seizes with concern at the look of discomfort on your face.

“I’m fine,” You answer stubbornly. “Just—give me a minute.” Mark nods and rubs comforting circles into your hips, bringing his lips to your neck to press sweet kisses from your ear to your shoulder and back up again. 

“Tell me what you want me to do.” Mark urges against your skin, brushing his parted lips along the spot behind your ear, and you sigh blissfully.

“You can move,” You murmur, and he thanks the powers that be as he pushes forward into you, bottoming out and feeling the tight wet warmth of your walls wrapped around him. Both of you let out a moan, your head falling forward to rest on his shoulder, and he pulls out before starting to thrust into you, deep strokes reaching every spot inside of you that makes your mind go blank. “Shit, Mark,” You cry out as he fucks into you with all the desperation and desire he’s been restraining for the past weeks.

“You like that?” He chuckles breathlessly, pulling back slightly to reach between you two and massage your clit, and you nod with a whimper, rolling your hips against his. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this.”

“Me too,” You breathe, and he’s so surprised he almost fucks up his rhythm, sending you shifting back on the sink with a particularly powerful thrust. “Fuck—”

“Sorry, I’m—I can’t,” He moans, pressing his fingers against your clit harder and angling his hips so he can drive his cock into the spot that makes you roll your eyes into the back of your head.

“Mark, please, I’m gonna—” You gasp, and he nods, kissing you again to silence your moans as you both climax, your walls tightening around his length almost painfully as he pumps spurt after spurt of cum into you. He presses kiss after kiss to your lips, the corners of your mouth, your cheeks—anywhere he can reasonably reach.

He pulls out of you carefully, his chest heaving as he catches his breath and tucks himself back into his clothing. The air is thick and silent as Mark starts to spiral; are you coming to your senses? Experiencing some sort of post-nut clarity? Are you about to tell him you two can never be together and that he’s ruined everything—

“Wanna get food and watch a movie at my place?” You ask, turning around to face him. You’ve adjusted your top back into place and are in the process of zipping and buttoning your jeans.

“Y-Yeah.” Mark mumbles, half-dazed, half-relieved.

“Great! C’mon.” You say with a smile, washing your hands and leaning against the door as he does the same. When he’s finished, you take his hand and open the bathroom door, ignoring the stares you two garner as you leave. As you lead Mark through the party, he can’t help but hope things stay this comfortable even in the morning. 

sunday.

When Mark wakes up on Sunday, his mouth is drier than he ever remembers it being, his head feels like someone’s drumming on his temples, and he can barely get his wits about him quickly enough to take in his surroundings. All Mark knows right now is that there’s sunlight streaming in from the window beside the bed he’s lying in, he is not in his bed, and the person lying beside him is still asleep—

Hold on.

Mark turns his head carefully, lifting off of the pillow to look beside him so he doesn’t make any noise at all, and—it’s you.

At the sight of your sleeping frame, your back to him, Mark feels himself go limp with relief—well—almost everything on him goes limp, but one thing remains very, very…stiff.

Mark is now trying to piece together everything that happened last night, and the realization of what exactly went down hits him like a freight train, damn near knocking the wind out of his lungs in an involuntarily sucked-in breath.

Flashes of the night before start to run through his mind; his hands on your cheeks, your waist, your breasts, grabbing at your hips, his lips following the trail blazed by his lustful fingertips, the way your mouth felt wrapped around him—his cock—nestled deep in your folds—how tight you were, the pretty sounds you made—

Mark remembers damn near everything, but he can’t remember how it ended. Did you hate him for taking that forward step? Did he fuck up the relationship between you two? Did his lust get the best of him and potentially cost him his best friend?

“You really are so in your head, Mark.” Your sleepy voice remarks softly, fondness and amusement audible even past your just-woken croakiness, and hope fills Mark’s chest as he turns his head towards you. You’re now facing him—Mark wonders when you did that without him hearing, but figures he was so distracted by his thoughts that he must not have noticed—and smiling sweetly, tired eyes twinkling nevertheless, and Mark thinks it’s insane that you’re every bit as lovely when you’ve just woken up as you always are—maybe even more so. “Good morning,” You greet with a small chuckle.

“Morning,” Mark mumbles, his thoughts still racing. “Did—last night, did I—was that a bad idea—?”

“I’m happy,” You cut him off pointedly with a wider smile than before as you stretch your limbs, a small groan escaping you as you relax again. You look over at Mark and raise your eyebrows in question. “Are you happy?”

“I’m fuckin’ thrilled.” Mark rushes to get the words out, feeling like he can’t reassure you quickly enough, and your eyes scan his face before you laugh, and the sound is so free, so void of worry, stress, concern—

You’re not stressed in the slightest, so maybe Mark doesn’t have anything to worry about.

“I like you here with me like this,” You muse lightly, looking over at Mark with warm eyes. He’s about to speak, but you continue, “in my bed.”

“Yeah?” Mark can barely get the word out alongside his exhale of immense relief, but you hear it, as you always do.

“Mm, yeah,” You hum, and he nods, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “You know what else?”

“What else?” Mark’s relaxed considerably, smile morphing to a small smirk as he parrots your cadence back at you playfully. You don’t say anything for a moment, and he looks over at you curiously to see that you’ve propped your head up on your hand, elbow resting on the mattress. There’s a playful glint in your eyes, mischievous, even, and Mark’s a little bit lost, but your happiness is infectious.

“I really want to kiss you right now.”

It’s Sunday morning—or afternoon…Mark hasn’t figured that part out—and Mark feels like something’s clicked into place, and, when he looks at you, he knows you feel the same way.

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[watermelonsugacry]

I'm listening to TPWK and all I can think is 1dbandmate!yn was in the music video dksdbdkdmd that would be really cute specially now that we have the behind the scenes 😩

AAAAHHH STOP...OK BUT KEEP GOING

(gif credit to @hspics 💚)

So YN is obviously a dancer: she did a full choreographed 3-minute dance routine for her single collab with Little Mix for their song Move, her two closest friends (Alisha and Jax) are both professional dancers and have taken her to some dance classes over the years, and she has 4 female dancers (all shapes, colors and sizes) for her core dance tour team, not to mention that she dances and performs in knee high, 6 inch heeled boots on tour. 

So yeah, YN's a pretty skilled dancer.

And imagine the look on her face when she's invited to one of Harry's team meetings for the music video to not only hear that he wants to do a full dance routine, but have her be his dance partner? He claims that his reasoning is because her vocals are featured in the song, but the sly smile he gives her confirms that he’s taking advantage of an opportunity to do yet another project with her.

So they began learning and rehearsing the routine that was created by none other than One Direction's previous choreographer, Paul Roberts. She shouldn't be surprised by how fast Harry picked up on the choreography. He's definitely that annoying friend who hasn't done an activity before, does it for the first time and instantly becomes a natural. 

So here are some highlights from the making of the TPWK music video.

...

They're both stretching in front of the huge mirrors in the dance studio. YN is wearing an oversized Treat People With Kindness white t-shirt, plain black biker shorts and matching Harry’s classic Vans. Harry stretches next to her, also wearing a t-shirt of her merch. 

As she goes from a wide squat to a deep forward lunge, she squeaks and almost loses her balance when she feels a pinch on her bum. She reaches out and swats at her giggling boyfriend.

"Keep yeh hands to yourself!"

...

"What if we did a lift?" Harry suggests, his index finger and thumb pinching at his bottom lip.

"Did yeh forget the Night Changes music video?" She scoffs and everyone in the room laughs when his big hand covers her face, playfully pushing her away. 

After some hours already spent locked away in the small rehearsal space, the couple was getting a little delirious. So it doesn’t really take a whole lot of convincing YN to try out the stunt. Especially when he leans really close to her side, chest to her shoulder, and tells her in her ear, "Come on. I got you, lovie. Y'trust me, yeh?" 

So here she finds herself, standing a couple of feet away from Harry as they prepare for a silly, impulsive lift. When he gives her a nod, she's quickly going to him. Everything was fine, his hand placement was correct, her speed was at a good pace, but what has them both stop midway through the lift is that his nose bumps deep into her chest.

Once Harry carefully puts her back to the ground, YN crumples to the floor with her hands to her stomach as she barks out in laughter. His eyes squeeze shut, hands to his knees as he joins her in laughter. 

...

"Next to the stage, we have the wonderfully talented, Grammy-nominated, professional dancer, Harry Styles!" YN announces in a deep voice from her spot on the floor. She's sitting with her back against the mirror behind her in another dance studio in LA as she holds her phone close to her face to record Harry's take of his full solo routine. 

She giggles when he takes a dramatic bow, stepping closer to the microphone stand and gives a couple of waves to the fake audience around him before beginning.

...

When Harry first began bouncing from one table to another on a trampoline, YN will admit, she was a little nervous. She didn’t want him to accidently miss his footing or lose his balance.

"H, please be careful. Ah!" YN puts her hands over her eyes.

But as the days getting closer to final shoot came along, she would record her boyfriend bouncing around the tables with a dramatic wave of his arms and she would yell out a, “Parkour!” every now and then.

    It would make him stop on top of a table to laugh, making sure to catch his breath from the prancing around and from his giggling. Her comments would go on for a bit longer, making herself laugh more than anything. Her giggling quickly turns into a squeal when Harry, instead of bouncing to the next table, uses the trampoline to jump towards her. Playfully fed up with her distractions, he wraps his arms around her and tackles her to the ground.

...

    There’s a short video clip shown of the couple rehearsing in YN’s home gym in the small dance corner she has. Harry has his phone propped up against the mirror wall as they record their progress. The two go around in a circle, twisting their hips, flicking their foot, spinning and ending with a clap.

    The two stay in that position for a hot second, frozen in place with their hands in the air. YN tries her hardest to hold back a laugh as she realizes they both forgot the steps. Although Harry’s back is to the camera, his shoulders twitching lets everyone know he’s doing the same.

...

    Harry and YN are decked out in their final finished outfits. They’re both standing in front of a living room and Lambert tells them that he’s going to do a quick camera test. He instructs them to do a simple spin to showcase the custom outfits. 

While Harry does so with his arms extended beside him, YN has her arms above her head like a ballerina, her foot to her opposite knee as she does a more dramatic turn.

    Lambert just shakes his head at the couple as they giggle and begin to do silly dances instead. They were never ones for following directions for a simple video anyways.

...

Harry's being a pest and clingy to his girlfriend on the day of shooting. It's annoying at times but he can't help it. He's just excited that he's doing something this big and fun with her: their first music video together in almost 6 years.

Like how every time the makeup artist tries to touch up YN's lipstick, he pushes the poor woman's elbow to make her shaky. It goes on for a bit before YN makes a playful reach to pinch his nipple through his sparkly jacket. 

Or after she does her part coming down the staircase and they're all watching the playback on the monitors with the director, he's cuddled up behind her. For the sake of not showing too much PDA in their workplace, he has his hands behind his back but he still leans down enough so that his chin sits comfortably on top of her shoulder with a fond smile tugged on his lips.

...

    YN and Harry are talking off set in a relatively dark corner. While chewing on a piece of gum, she nods to whatever he’s saying before her eyes find the BTS camera behind him. She playfully squints her eyes and flips off the camera. 

When Harry turns around to see what she’s been seeing, he gets really close to the camera and says with fake aggressiveness, “Get out m’face alright.”

    He turns back around to wrap his arms around her, pulling her to the front of his chest and blocking her from the camera. But the couple can’t hold their serious facial expressions for long and Harry gives the camera a cheeky, close lipped smile over his shoulder. YN’s face from the nose up can be seen from behind his shoulder, but once the tops of her cheeks scrunch up, it’s known she’s smiling too.

...

    From the monitor screens, the BTS cameraman captures YN and Harry in their matching outfits while they’re on stage. Both of them bounce from foot to foot, shaking out their hands to loosen up before their dance number. Harry puts his hands up in front of him and YN punches them like she’s a boxer preparing for a match.

    They both act very concentrated and overly focused, that is until Harry pulls a hand back a bit when one of her rings dig too deep into a part of his skin. He has a mocked fake hurt expression on his face and YN scrunches up her nose as she laughs, reaching out and cuddling his hand.

...

“Cut! Let’s reset and go again.”

Everyone goes back to their first positions, a little bit of chatter fills the room and YN takes that as an opportunity to playfully poke at his tummy. “Y’doing really great, H. What’s wrong?”

“Think m’just nervous or somewhat. I was doing it fine in rehearsals. Dunno what m’doing wrong.” Harry almost rakes his fingers through his hair but quickly remembers not to mess up his already styled hairstyle, so he goes to adjust the waistband of his trousers instead.

YN can feel his frustration already beginning to seep in and she’s not going to let a couple of missed steps ruin his shoot. The whole day has been filled with laughter, giddy smiles, and just overall excitement by doing a project together. 

“Can I tell yeh a secret?” YN asks her boyfriend. Harry automatically furrows his eyebrows in concern, giving her his full attention at the drop of a hat. He’s always willing to push past his concerns to focus on hers.

“Of course. Always.” He softly plays with her fingers between them.

“M’nervous too.” YN whispers with the corners of her lips tugging up in a smile and there’s a sense of relief brought to both of them: Harry for not feeling alone in his anxiety and YN for helping him calm down. “Just count out loud like we did in rehearsal, yeh? I do it all the time.”

“Play back. Everyone ready? Alright, ready in 3...2...1, action!”

“5, 6, 7, 8 and 1...” YN says softly, Harry matching her movements as he finds his groove again. Both have their arms out, hands bent down as they hop their way down the stage. As they look to each other, YN gives him a quick wink before moving onto their next move.

...

    Once the director yells “And that’s a wrap!” Harry stands upright from his bent backwards position in his love’s arms and immediately wraps his arms around the tops of her shoulders. Their bellies move against each other as they both try to catch their breath, both a little sweaty but they can honestly care less.

The crew members, Sarah’s band, and the dancers all cheer and clap as everything comes to a close. 

Too caught up in adrenaline, Harry doesn’t really think twice about giving YN a quick kiss and an ‘I love you.’ His dimples dig into his cheeks as she says it back with no hesitancy and he pulls her back to his chest. 

Taglist:

@wobblymug @be-with-me-so-happily @ashtongivesmebutterflies @kiwiskiwiskiwi @darlingdesire @obsesseddd @hopefulwastelandcreation @cacapeepee @breezie-b00 @harrysfolklore @theekyliepage @sunshinemoonsposts @nervousspiderling @tbslonelyhes @tenaciousperfectionunknown @harrystylesrecs @certified-nalayak @itsjustsel @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof @gviosca @behindmygreyeyes @twobluejeans @allisonxmcu @theemeraldbutterfly @jean-love @marvellover-sam @b-reads-things @theekyliepage

[moemammon]

You are not Beyoncé but you're singing your heart out when you think you're home alone.

(Featuring the demon brothers and GN!MC)

For once, you had the house to yourself! Was this a miracle?? Were the heavens finally smiling down on you from above? Was this the result of all your good karma??? Whatever it was, you were almost certain that you were alone for once.

And what did that mean? Time for a good ol' fashion jam session. You put on your favorite tunes and set them to blast through the speaker of your D.D.D. while you danced around the house, singing your heart out. Who cared if some of your notes were flat, or if you had to drop a few pitches to hit those high notes?

Not you. You were just living your best life without a care in the world.

Until...

Lucifer

Of course the eldest would be around. Arguably the most mysterious and omnipotent brother in the house, so yeah. He's there.

He told you this morning that he’d have a meeting to attend after classes today. You thought he’d be out for a long while, but it just so happened that the meeting ended early today, much to his relief.

Not to yours though, because that means that Lucifer has front row seats to your amazing concert without your permission.

He didn't even have the courtesy to make himself known! He just waited in the kitchen, quietly preparing his coffee while your singing echoed through the halls.

You were sauntering your way to the kitchen as well, fumbling over forgotten lyrics without a care in the world, when you saw him.

Enemy spotted.

Does this mean he heard every single time your voice cracked-

Your eyes lock and Lucifer doesn't even mention what you were just doing, despite the obviously being within earshot of you.

You really start feeling the heat rising in your cheeks when he says "You seem to be in a good mood. Did something good happen to you at RAD today?"

Regardless of how you respond (or not), Lucifer turns his back to you to tidy up, and says "....I don't believe I've ever heard your singing before. You'll have to give me an encore in my office some time."

You swear you can hear the mischief in his tone....

Mammon

This seriously was unheard of. An afternoon without having mammon glued to your hip?? Hell must've frozen over or something.

Regardless, you weren't going to take this for granted! Mammon did mention something about a 'foolproof money making scheme' he had a dream about last night, so he was probably off trying to see if he could make it a reality.

Things like this usually took a huge chunk of greedy boy's afternoon, so you figured you were safe to sing as you pleased!

Besides, he probably would've texted you if he were on the way home, right?

Apparently not, because Mammon was very much home, and did not send you a text. Honestly? He forgot to. He was too busy wallowing in self pity.

How was he supposed to know that using magic to duplicate grim was illegal??

He managed to escape any real trouble and made his way back home, only to have his ears immediately blessed (or assaulted) by your singing.

He's not the type to sit around in secret until you notice him, so catch this boy marching around the house until he finds you himself. Not so quietly calling out your name the entire time, too.

Mammon caught you in the empty library singing your heart out. The acoustics were great in there! They also kinda drowned out the outside noise, so you couldn't really hear him yelling for you.

"Oh, I thought you were screamin' about a bug or something. What song is that?"

He's not shy about singing in the shower at the top of his lungs, so it's not like he's judging you?? But he's got his phone out when you spot him. The bastard is recording you...

So your knee jerk reaction is to attack

"Wh- Oi!! What're ya hitting me for?! I don't care if it's just a pillow- Hey!"

He has chosen death. Goodbye Mammon.

Leviathan

It was kind of bold of you to assume that Levi would ever be out of the house, but he DID mention something about a concert he wanted to attend..? Or some kind of book signing?

You don't really remember, and you don't have the mental strength to scroll through the sea of spam texts he's sent you today.

C'est la vie.

Since you're pretty sure you're alone, you're not taking your solo concert all around the house of lamentation, from the foyer to the west wing, up to the attic and down to the dining room.

Gotta find the perfect spot to sing this next part. It's got a really good bit with a flute, and you wanna stare longingly out of a window or something-

And it's when you pass by otaku man's room that he decides to make himself known by poking his head out. His headset is around his neck and his hair's a little tousled, hinting that he was in the middle of gaming.

You freeze. Neither of you can look the other in the eye.

It takes a while before the silence can be broken, but before you can say a word, Levi speaks.

"Y-You know... you should come to karaoke with me! Only if you want to, I mean! I didn't know you were a fan of singing, so... but you probably have other plans, right? You don't want to hang out with a gross otaku like me blah blah blah-"

You aren't sure if your brain is malfunctioning from being caught in the act, or from the word vomit spilling from everyone's favorite weeb.

Satan

Satan is a good, studious boy so you assumed he was staying after class to head to the library. He was lagging behind, so you didn't question it.

Or maybe he was planning his next prank? Lucifer did have to make an announcement tomorrow morning in front of the student body, and Satan had been awfully interested in glitter bombs lately...

Whatever the case, he wasn't home right now! Or so you thought.

You were busy switching between two different choruses AND a sick guitar riff all in one song, so there was no time to be thinking about the demon's whereabouts.

You did wonder where you left your bag at, though. You vaguely recalled dumping it at the front door, so maybe that's where it was?

Scooting your way down the hall like a music powered locomotive, you were right in the middle of imitating the sound of drums when you spotted the trembling grin plastered to Satan's face.

Hm.

Maybe you could ask Diavolo about sending you back to the human world right now.

"Sorry, I didn't know you were here, or I would've said something." Satan tells you, clearing his throat to further suppress his laughter. From the way his shoulders are shaking, he was barely holding on.

"I didn't think you were the type to like songs like that. Do you have a playlist you could recommend me? I'm interested after seeing how much you enjoy it."

That cheeky grin of his never breaks for a second, so you can't tell if he's actually asking for recommendations, or if he's watching for your reaction.

Asmo

Not a surprise that you assumed he wasn't home, since he rarely is. He's always out partying or shopping around, so you usually don't see him much around this time.

But that also means you're free to sing as loudly as you want! Look out Mariah Carey, there's a new high note singer in town.

Asmo can vouch for that! Because he can hear you. Clearly.

Okay but he's one of those people that joins in while you're singing.

Legit the moment he goes inside and recognizes your song, he's trying to serenade you from the other side of the house.

And boy do you hear him. This man can SING (as expected of a fallen angel), and he likes to sing loudly. He wants all eyes on him after all!

And maybe you'll be so smitten by his angelic voice that you'll come running into his arms and beg that he takes you right then and there!

Wishful thinking though, because that is not how you reacted. Boo...

He finds you, and wants to know what you think of his voice. "Well? My singing was beautiful, wasn't it~? I used to sing all the time up in the celestial realm! I don't mind giving you some private lessons back in my room~"

Was he implying that you needed lessons? Maybe... but he's a sweetheart about it so can you really be mad at him?

Beel

A crepe cart recently opened up for a limited time, and there was no way Beel was going to miss that. And knowing him, he wouldn't come home until there were no traces of food left in sight.

So you figured you'd have plenty of time to brush up on your sea shanties! Bold of you to assume...

Beel can inhale a billion times his weight in food in like, five minutes. What made you think he wouldn't be back home by now?

He was full for a good ten minutes (a new record!) and spent that time in his bedroom, hence why you didn't hear his usual rummaging through the kitchen for food.

Speaking of food, you were feeling kind of hungry yourself! And a little parched from all the singing, so a snack break couldn't hurt!

You slid on your socks along the hardwood floor all the way to the kitchen... where you nearly slammed into Beel. There he was, the mad lad himself.

He was also on the way to the kitchen. Surprise surprise, right? And he managed to catch you by the shoulders before you could slide into anything.

Beel is the least phased by your singing. He just thinks it's nice that you were comfortable enough to sing so loudly! Good to see that you're enjoying yourself.

He doesn't exactly address it? Instead he moves his hand forward to place something into yours.

It's a crepe that he saved, just for you! You stare at the delicate pastry, all topped with layers of fluffy whipped cream, strawberries and blueberries, and lovingly drizzled with chocolate sauce! There's a bite taken out of the side, though-

"I tried my best to hold back, but I took a bite. Sorry..."

How can you be mad at him?? You're not even embarrassed about the singing anymore tbh. Too full of love to care 💕💕

Belphie

When,,,, was Belphie ever not home,, like,,,,

This man has never seen a classroom in his life, so it's not like you could've expected him to be at RAD.

And he wasn't usually in town?? Definitely a homebody.

But Beel wanted someone to go with him to that crepe cart, and Belphie couldn't exactly turn his dear brother down when he gave him those big baby eyes-

And since Beel wasn't home, you figured Belphie was still out, too!

Spoiler alert: you thought wrong.

Belphie was home, and now wide awake thanks to your banshee screams singing. He managed to slip away from Beel when he got too tired. He didn't really want a crepe anyway, so he decided to head back.

Only to be rudely awaken... how dare you...

He's hellbent on finding you, JUST so he can get you to shush. Please.. let him rest his weary bones...

When he does locate you, you have your back turned to him and your music on max volume, occupying yourself with grabbing your clean laundry to take back to your room.

He doesn't speak, instead choosing to watch you shimmy around to the beat of your song. And when you do a little spin, you turn right around to face him and get to witness the sheer amusement on his face.

He's NOT letting your forget about this moment. And you can't escape him either, he won't let you.

The bastard corners you just to repeatedly ask "Hey, what were you singing? I haven't heard that one in a while. Mind singing it again for me?"

"With a voice like that, I'm afraid to ask you to sing me a lullaby."

"...Just kidding. Your face is really red right now, you know?"

You feel the sudden urge to stuff him into the dryer, but you resist.

The urge grows stronger when he imitates the little dance you were doing.

[barbex]

For @14daysdalovers​ I tried my hand at prompt number two, Slow Dance. A little fenders fic, of course. Fenris x Anders, Dragon Age.

---

For a tavern in bum-fuck-nowhere, the music is surprisingly good. All the band members know how to play their instruments without hurting themselves and they almost always hit all the notes at the right time. The singer is a bit intense sometimes, but he definitely is passionate. 

After a heart wrenching solo about being burned by love, the singer discreetly wipes his eyes and bows to the applause. While he goes around with a hat, collecting generous tips, the band begins to play again. The song is cheerful, a light melody circling around the clarinet's melody. 

Fenris looks at Anders. He has been watching him all evening. Anders' eyes are bright and, except for one moment, a smile played around his lips the whole time. But when the singer sang of burned love, a frown fell over his face. It's gone now, the sunny smile is back, but Fenris still sees it like a shadow.

"What does it mean, mage?" he asks.

Anders' head whips around. There's still a glimpse of suspicion in his expression at first, before he seems to consciously decide that Fenris isn't a threat anymore. Their peace is a tentative thing, still new on this trip to Chateau Haine. "What means what?" he asks back.

"Burned love. What does he mean by that?"

"Oh." Anders stares into the distance. "I think it means something like giving in to love and getting burned by it."

Fenris turns fully to Anders now. "Giving in? You make love sound like a defeat." 

"Maybe it is, in a way." Anders looks over to the table where the singer has settled down next to a white-haired warrior. "Love is dangerous. It makes you vulnerable. You open your heart, allowing someone else to take it and possibly crush it."

Ugly memories of what he once thought love was, rise in Fenris. "It sounds like a slave being at a master's mercy."

"That's different." Anders turns to Fenris with a frown. "That kind of relationship is about power, control. But love is different, it's about giving and taking between equals, like a dance." He points at the couples on the dance floor. "Even if one is leading for a while, this dance only works if the other agrees to be led. And they can change, like in this dance, the leading role switches between them."

Fenris stares at the dancers. They hold each other's hands as they dance back and forth and side to side. It looks nothing like the dances in Tevinter. "I don't understand."

"Come on, I'll show you." 

Fenris stares at Anders' hand. The mage stands in front of him, smiling his infuriating smile and holds out his hand. Fenris takes it before he can think. The mage pulls him onto the dancefloor and grabs his other hand.

"First, we take steps to the side, first left, then right." He gives a tiny shove with his hand and Fenris moves to the left. Anders' arms are strangely rigid, giving him clear directions as they step from side to side. "See, I'm guiding you. Now we switch, and you do it."

Fenris tenses. Anders just smiles, his arms going soft as he sways in the music's rhythm. Fenris takes a step forward, pressing against Anders' hands and the mage easily steps back and then forward again, following Fenris' directions.

They do this for some time, Anders making them sway to the side and Fenris leading them back and forth. Anders' hand is soft in Fenris' hand, but there's a hidden strength to them. Hands of a healer and hands of a fighter.

When the band starts a new, slower melody, the pairs around them change their positions. They wrap their arms around each other, pulling the other close and lay their cheeks against the other if their heights allow.

"Oh, yeah." Anders laughs sheepishly and drops Fenris' hands. "That's a different dance. We should probably —"

Fenris doesn't know where his braveness comes from, but he closes the distance between them and puts his hands on Anders' hips. "Show me."

"But you... are you sure?" Anders stares at him with fear in his eyes. 

It feels wrong to see Anders with that expression. "Please."

"Alright, just... don't rip my heart out for this." 

Before Fenris can say anything to that, Anders' arms wrap around him, pulling him flush against him. He sways in time with the music and after another breath, Fenris allows himself to relax.

He rests his hands on Anders' lower back. Anders is taller than him, but not by much. When he leans down a bit, his cheek brushes against Fenris' ear.

"Is this alright?" Anders' breath tickles over Fenris' neck.

Fenris turns his head, his lips touching Anders' jaw. "Yes. I want this."

"Oh, dear." Anders' arms tighten around him. "My poor heart."

Fenris leans back so that he can look at Anders. "I will not crush your heart, Anders."

Anders looks at him with warm eyes. He leans forward, his lips just barely touching Fenris'. "You cannot promise that. You cannot know."

"Nevertheless, I promise. Kiss me, mage."

"Oh, my poor heart."

---

(who noticed the cameo? 😉)

[married-2-the-music]

K-pop Discography Deep Dives: KEY

Key first debuted with SHINee in 2008, and debuted as a soloist around their 10th anniversary in 2018, with Forever Yours. Here are my credentials: As I’ve made abundantly clear on this blog, I’m a Shawol, and SHINee are my ult group. I’m a huge fan of Key, and he’s one of my favorite members. Despite that, though, I don’t know his solo discography very well, besides a handful of tracks (a couple titles and a couple b-sides), so I’m looking forward to hearing more.

Forever Yours is a pre-release for the first album, and surprisingly makes the choice to start not with Key but with Soyou, the feature for this song, whose softer, more muted tone goes so well with Key’s slightly more nasal one. The song has a pulsing beat from the outset, and though its chorus is quite simple at first, it soon blossoms into something far more fleshed out and dancy in the post-chorus. I also liked the very 80’s space movie inspired MV, and I can’t decide whether I love or hate that orange jumpsuit.

One Of These Nights is also minimalistic at its start, though it goes with a more Latin-pop acoustic guitar and handclapping before returning to synthpop. I also enjoyed Crush’s feature here, as I thought his voice works well with Key’s too, though in a different way to Soyou’s. Though I liked this one, I think that the choruses felt a little too understated to me, besides the last one. I will say, I do adore that bridge, and I could absolutely see this one growing on me.

I Wanna Be is another collab, this time with Soyeon of (G)I-DLE, which is a surprising collaboration that, as a Neverland (a (G)I-DLE fan), I’m completely in favor of. I appreciate that Soyeon’s incorporated throughout the entire song and doesn’t just appear for a verse (though of course she does have a rap) and then leave like many features, and their voices work well together. I liked this one! Normally I dislike heavily-instrumental choruses, but this one really fits the vibe of the song and its minimalistic, synthy production. It also feels more like the Key songs I’ve heard before.

From the album, I Wanna Be (a repackage of FACE), though I enjoyed the electro buildups in Chemicals, the easygoing beat of Easy To Love, the call-and-response and catchy beat of The Duty Of Love, and the chanty confidence in Show Me, my hidden gem would have to be I Will Fight. Key’s voice is as sharp as ever, but now it has a distinctly melancholy, piercing quality to it that feels deeper than his other tracks, and for good reason: it’s a song about Jonghyun, first and foremost, and the grief that comes with a loved one’s death when you’re wrapped up in your guilt. This is one of my favorite k-pop b-sides, purely because of that heartbreaking honesty. The lines “I will live my life for you, you are my red line [red string of fate] and now, without a word, goodbye” never fail to touch me.

Cold is part of SM Station’s special project, but it was still a single, so I’m featuring it here. It’s definitely a ballad, and gives a very wintery feeling, so I wasn’t surprised to find out that it was released around Valentines’ Day. This one didn’t strike me very much, though I did enjoy hearing Key’s voice in a more subdued environment. I didn’t understand the choice to have a feature here, though, as this is a song that doesn’t need a rap and feels like it suffers for it.

Hate That is a single, and marks Key’s return from military service with his longtime friend, Taeyeon. Like Cold, it’s more of a ballad than his other tracks, but unlike Cold, which felt very average, it puts more of Key’s own spin on it. Though the vocals are melancholy and the song is understated, the slight synths give it more personality, and their voices meld so well, forming what’s much more of a duet than most k-pop tracks are. It’s also very catchy!

Bad Love is both the first title that doesn’t have a featured artist and the first to truly feel like Key. It’s over-the-top, serving drama in spades, with vocal flourishes, hints of disco in its pulsing synths, and of course, clothes that are either fantastic or horrifying but I can’t decide. This was my favorite so far, without a doubt, especially the “don’t need that kind of love” hook in the post-chorus. With this, it feels like he’s truly found his sound.

There wasn’t a single song I didn’t enjoy on this EP! There’s the catchy beat and the “take my breath away, take my breath away” hook from Yellow Tape, the super-dramatic delivery in all-English Helium (which made me cackle, truth be told), the crying-on-the-dancefloor feeling of Saturday Night (let’s all take a moment to appreciate the “Hey Zachary play that song”/”Hey Stacy, give me something on the rocks”, please) and the sweet, reassuring message from Key to his 18-year-old self in Eighteen (End Of My World).

Gasoline announces itself in true Key-fashion (is that a world? Eh.) with a marching-band-esque parade of brass and then struts forward for its next few minutes with an astounding amount of confidence. It reminds me a little of (G)I-DLE’s Queencard in that, though its lyrics are nonsensical, it’s incredibly dramatic, and it takes itself way too seriously, it’s honestly a very fun time if you turn off your brain and just enjoy yourself. I wish that the brass was more of a feature in this song, as I think it adds a great sense of depth.

Killer, the second single from the album, goes full-on 80’s action movie with its glittering sound, disco-inspired beat, and Key’s electro-tinged high voice, not to mention the cars on fire and motorcycles cruising through a city at night. Its chorus shoots for the stars, rushing forward with excellent energy that has the (not unwelcome) side effect of making you want to get up and just dance. Needless to say, I liked this one.

From the album, Killer (a repackage of Gasoline), I enjoyed the gritter rock drive of Heartless, the tense beat reminiscent of Michael Jackson’s Thriller in Bound, Jeno’s feature in Villain, the very Taemin-esque delivery with Key’s great vocals in Burn, and the infectious confidence in Proud. My hidden gem was definitely the drowsy citypop ballad I Can’t Sleep, though, with its incredibly relatable lyrics on insomnia and repetitive chorus that, as of now, is still stuck in my head. Though, I think that’s my own fault for replaying it four times.

Good & Great is (at time of writing), Key’s most recent single, and though it’s set in an office, the “I’m good, I’m great, I work, get paid” has me cackling wondering how he convinced SM Entertainment it wasn't about them. The entire song is an exercise in tip-toeing very close to that line, and I couldn’t stop laughing, especially since I was working at the time. It’s not as dramatic as Bad Love or Killer, but instead stays in a more understated but still catchy synth arena. So I liked this one too. From the EP, Good & Great, I enjoyed the glitzy synths of Can’t Say Goodbye, the back-and-forth disco rush of Live Without You, and the vulnerable discussion of low self-esteem in Mirror, Mirror.

I’m glad I did this! I really shouldn’t be surprised by how much fun I had with this one since I love SHINee so much, but I was anyway. His discography is right up my alley, with its preference for synth, disco, citypop, and more personal ballads. Plus, he writes a lot of his own tracks, which I always love! I hope he has another comeback soon.

My Top 5 songs are Bad Love, I Will Fight, Eighteen, Killer, and Good & Great, with I Can’t Sleep and Easy To Love as honorable mentions. Key gets an 8.75 out of 10 from me, which is higher than I expected, but feels fitting. I didn’t really have many songs I disliked; the reason this discography is ranked here is because only a handful of tracks really drive home that emotional connection, but when they do, they really hit.

(Photo of Key with BoA)

Next time, we’ll be starting a HUGE deep dive, with some supplementals. Tschüss!

[likeshipsonthesea]

I don’t know if you take requests for nurseydex fics... but if you do the song “omg did she call him baby” by Beth McCarthy screams a heartbroken Nursey when Dex has a girlfriend

i like really can’t do genuine heartbreak but i CAN do angst that ends happy, so here’s my best shot :)

Nursey’s got a red Solo cup in one hand and a plastic champagne flute in the other and it’s sometime after three but before five and he is definitely not thinking about her or him or them together when he looks up between one sip and another to see the telltale blue hair reflecting the murky spotlights of the basement.

Nursey squints. He could be making things up--his brain is nice like that-- but he doesn’t think he’s imagining things. She’s got very distinctive hair, Dex’s--girlfriend. It’d been rather disappointing, actually, the blue hair. The whole thing had been easier to deal with when he’d been picturing some light-haired brunette going for an economics degree who smiled like a mom at soccer practice. Someone who Nursey could reasonably dislike on grounds of, like, predictability.

But no, Dex had to bring home a blue-haired physics major with a nose ring and good taste in music and the ability to out-argue Shitty while polishing off Bitty’s pie, i.e. perfect. Even Lardo couldn’t pretend like she wasn’t awesome for Nursey’s sake. Even Nursey can’t pretend like Amanda isn’t awesome for his own sake. She’s just so--so--

Nursey squints.

So-- making out with some random girl in a blouse at a frat party.

What the fuck.

Nursey is about two margaritas and three years too deep to be dealing with the emotional ramifications of catching the girlfriend of his best friend (who he’s also kind of sort of possibly maybe totally in love with) macking on some consultant for Goldman Sachs or some shit in the basement of arguably one of the worst frats at Samwell. This one doesn’t even have good music, Nursey’s only here to get drunk without the possibility of Dex calling Nursey Patrol and helping Nursey up the stairs and saying nothing about the poetry Nursey spills or the way his hands linger.

(Fuck does Nursey hate Nursey Patrol, fuck does he hate how much he loves it.)

Nursey downs the rest of the champagne flute--which was probably mostly orange juice at this point anyway-- and hands the red Solo cup to a freshman gearing himself up to talk to a cute boy a few feet away and then Nursey gets the fuck out of dodge. He manages to get a better look at the corporate recruiter Amanda is cheating on Dex with (and really, if you’re going to cheat on Dex, you’re really going to pick a chick in a blouse that probably has opinions on the stock market???) and if he hadn’t been sure before, the distinctive tattoo on Amanda’s shoulder proves that it’s really her.

(“Tattoos? Tattoos? I have tattoos.” “I know you do, Nurse.” “They’re really nice tattoos.” “I know they are, Nurse.”)

Emerging from the basement and then the frat house itself is instantly sobering. The chill from winter hasn’t quite left the air at night and Nursey wraps his arms around himself and doesn’t think about how Dex chirped him about not wearing a coat before he’d left. The frat isn’t far away from the Haus, thank god, but it is slightly farther when he turns left instead of right and then has to a backtrack a bit, but he still gets back in under ten minutes and he can still feel his hands, so overall, a win.

Attempting to get into the Haus quietly is a lost cause, given its one thousand year old floor and the fact that a ladybug could fart in the kitchen and wake up the guys in the attic. Still, Nursey gives it the good college try, which is why he’s creeping ridiculously through the living room when the light turns on suddenly and he screams, much to the amusement of Dex, standing in the kitchen doorway.

“Fuck, dude, what the fuck.”

Dex just smirks in that horribly attractive way of his. “How was the Psi-U basement?”

Nursey thinks of blue hair, washed out in the lights, Amanda’s hand on that girl’s cheek, the way Dex smiles when he’s around her. “Fine,” Nursey says, swaying.

The amusement falters and Nursey wishes he could figure out a way to keep the smile on Dex’s face the way Amanda does. Dex takes a step closer. “Are you alright?”

Nursey shakes his head violently and takes a step back, a step farther away. This is the part where he says yes, yes of course Dexy-darling, I’m right as rain, what about you? This is the part where Dex rolls his eyes and loops his arm around Nursey’s waist, his warm side pressed into Nursey’s. The part where they go upstairs, where Nursey writes his best poetry that he’s too embarrassed to write down when he’s sober, where Dex tells him to sleep well and lingers outside the doorway long enough for Nursey’s breathing to slow and then the floor creaks and Nursey knows he’s gone and wishes he’d held on just a little bit longer--

“Nursey, what’s wrong?”

Nursey shakes his head again. He means to say nothing, he means to say, I’m going to bed, he means to-- “Amanda, she--”

The concern turns to alarm. Why can’t Nursey ever make it better? “Is she alright? Did you see her? Is she okay?”

Nursey shakes his head again. He can’t seem to stop doing that. “She’s fine, she--she--” He swallows, and it’s sticky, cloying, citrusy and sweet on the back of his tongue. “She--there was this girl, she-- Amanda, she--”

Dex won’t stop frowning, concern knitting his eyebrows together with three short wrinkles, and Nursey has wanted to smooth them out with his fingertips every time he sees them since sophomore year, and he shouldn’t be doing this, shouldn’t be telling Dex this while he’s drunk, shouldn’t be telling Dex this at all, but he’s Nursey’s friend first and Nursey has to believe he’d tell Dex regardless of the love thing, he must--

“She was kissing some girl. In the Psi-U basement.”

The wrinkles smooth out. The amusement returns. Nursey--he can’t make sense of it over the ringing in his ears. Why is Dex smiling? Did--did Nursey do that?

“Did she look like a lawyer?” he asks, and at Nursey’s confusion clarifies, “The girl Amanda was kissing. Did she look like a lawyer?” Nursey nods dumbly. Dex’s smile only grows. Nursey is so, so confused and also more in love than he’s ever been. “Finally. I just won fifty bucks.”

What the fuck. “What the fuck.”

Dex laughs--laughs. “The girl’s name is Tammy. She graduated last year and moved to Boston. Amanda’s been in love with her forever, and I bet her that she’d get with Tammy before I--” Flush appears high on Dex’s cheeks, the soft pink one that means embarrassment and Nursey imagines would taste like cherry pie against his lips.

Nursey is--still quite a bit drunk. He needs--clarification. “You--you bet your girlfriend that she would get with her friend at a frat party?”

Dex’s nose scrunches up in Nursey’s favorite way--the same way it does when he’s trying to write humanities essays, the reason Nursey always says yes when Dex asks for help. “Girlfriend? Did you think Amanda was my girlfriend?”

Nursey remembers the start, hearing about Amanda every other day, then every day, then it was, sorry I can’t come, I’m meeting Amanda at-- and then one day at Annie’s, a girl with blue hair and a sharp grin yelled Babe! from across the room and planted a kiss on Dex’s cheek, her hand lingering on his shoulder, sipping from his coffee cup, getting him to smile like that--

“Well, yeah.” Nursey’s head is spinning and, for the first time tonight, not from the gin. “Is she--is she not?”

“Oh God, no, she’s so fucking gay, dude.” Laughter twinkles in Dex’s eyes. Nursey is drunker than he’s been since freshmen year of high school when Shitty snuck in some of his dad’s hard liquor and the janitors found them on the roof singing Disney songs at the moon. Dex’s girlfriend is gay. Dex’s girlfriend isn’t his girlfriend. Dex is--is smiling at him like he smiles at his girlfriend who isn’t his girlfriend.

“Oh,” Nursey says, dazed, “chill.”

“Oh wow,” Dex grins, leaning into the doorframe, “I can’t believe you thought--and you thought telling me my girlfriend was cheating on me at 3am while shit-drunk was a good idea?”

Nursey says, “Hey, honesty is important, and I’m not--” He stops. He remembers something. He squints. “Wait. If you bet 50 bucks on Amanda getting with Tammy, who did Amanda bet you would get with?”

The cherry pie blush is back. Nursey takes an absent-minded step forward. The room feels so much lighter now that Dex’s girlfriend isn’t cheating on him. The distance between them feels so much sillier now that Dex doesn’t have a girlfriend.

“Ah, well.” Dex rubs at the back of his neck, all country bumpkin sheepish to ask his sweetheart to the dance, and--and--

“I’m the sweetheart,” Nursey realizes with the kind of crystal clarity only afforded by the most copious amounts of alcohol.

Dex’s eyebrows furrow, those sweet little wrinkles appearing between them, and Nursey takes two long strides forward and presses his thumb into them. Dex goes cross-eyed trying to watch, but moves his eyes to meet Nursey’s after a moment.

Nursey grins, likely a bit sloppy from the gin, but he can’t find it in himself to care at the moment. “I’m the sweetheart,” he repeats, beaming.

Dex tries to repress the smile at his lips. “You’re not a sweetheart.”

“Yes I am,” Nursey sings, listing forwards. “You like me.”

“You’re an asshole.” Dex’s smile grows. Nursey watches its progress and sways.

“They’re not mutually exclusive,” he says, tracking the pink lips as they spread, revealing teeth and--and tongue and--

“I hate that you can still say mutually exclusive when you’re this drunk.”

“I’m not that drunk.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm. See, I’ll prove it.”

“How do you plan on--”

If Dex’s mouth weren’t so preoccupied, he might say that the taste on Nursey’s tongue is a good indication that he is in fact fairly tipsy, but as it is--well. He’s got other things to do.

(Amanda asserts that they tied since it happened on the same night and only pays $25. Tammy throws in five more and a condom and they call it even. Nursey kisses away Dex’s protest and pockets the condom, much to Amanda’s amusement. Turns out, she’s even cooler when she isn’t dating the love of Nursey’s life.)