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bts-weverse-trans · 4 years

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201128 Weverse Magazine ‘BE’ Comeback Interview - Namjoon

RM: “I spend a lot of time thinking about where I am now” BTS BE comeback interview 2020.11.28

The story of BTS’ new album BE started on April 17, 2020 when group member RM announced its production on the BANGTANTV YouTube channel. In the seven months that followed until the album’s release, RM’s mind was full, his thoughts flowing in and out of his head.

How do you feel about the unique approach you took to making your new album, BE? RM: The other members were a ton of help to me. My lyrics made it on the album, but the music I composed didn’t, so I’m really thankful to the group for the music. How should I say this? I feel like everyone is doing a great job. There are so many parts in these songs that I’m indebted to them for. “Stay” was originally going to be the title song on Jung Kook’s mixtape, but everyone liked it so much, and they all agreed to put that on our album. That’s how much influence they had. I’m really happy my room idea was chosen to be the album photos. Since we’re spending a lot of time in our rooms because of COVID-19, we laid out the idea of each of us decorating a room in our own style. I can’t remember for sure (laughs) but I think I’m the one who came up with that. I made a comfortable room, one that’s modern and warm because that’s what I like.

There’s a painting in the middle, and symmetrically arranged figurines. RM: The figures are from my own collection. I wanted to show one of my paintings, but that didn’t pan out. But still, those are the things I hold most dear to me right now, so I let the room embody the things I wish I had, too.

It’s well known that you like art and frequent exhibitions, but how do you feel when you look at art in your home or another space where there are no people, like in the album art? RM: Someone said, “You don’t have to buy this painting; it’s yours so long as you’re looking at it.” That’s my favorite sound bite these days. What I most envied about painters was that, even after they died, their work would be hanging up somewhere, maybe even in another country, still defining that space. Musicians leave behind their songs and videos, too, but it’s only through fine art that viewers in the future are able to completely meet artists from the past. I’m envious that this is only possible for painters. These days I’m trying to find spaces where I can have more relaxed viewing experiences.

There’s a full experience involved, from the time you get ready to leave your house until the time you’re actually looking at artwork in the gallery. RM: That’s perfect to me. There’s art you can keep at home, and then there’s art that should always be viewed in museums.

What effect do you think that type of experience has on your music? You didn’t compose any of the songs but instead participated in writing the lyrics to all of the tracks. Did that experience affect your lyric writing in any way? RM: I think it’s helped me develop a way of thinking using all the senses. I used to be attuned to speech and focus on language and auditory textures, but now I can look at my thoughts from many different angles. That’s why I spend more time studying art now. I’m waiting for the day that it all comes to the surface, like when you paint the base on a canvas over and over so the colors pop. It’s hard to answer in one word if it has a direct influence on my work, but I think people who create music develop a way of seeing the world through their personal experience and their creative process. Painters naturally exhibit their art over a very long period of time. I think it gave me an eye for looking at the world in one long, continuous stroke. So now it’s become a little challenging for me to write lyrics these days. I’ve become more cautious.

Why is it so challenging? RM: I used to have so many ideas pouring out that it was hard to pluck one out. So I would stack them up like a Jenga tower and ponder over which one to remove. But now, it’s hard to even add a block to the stack. I’m not sure why but, when I look at these artists whose works span their entire lives, I sense that the rhythm of my creativity is slowing down more and more. That’s the source of my dilemma. I’m only 27 years old. I still need to wander around and get tripped up a little. But am I just trying to imitate what the fine artists are doing? Or maybe BTS experienced so much in the past seven years, that now it’s time for us to take a breather? I’ve got so many questions, I feel like my hair’s turning white. That’s why none of my songs are on the album. I wrote some, but they were too personal to use there. I don’t exactly like myself like this, but I have to see through to the end in this direction and find the answer.

Maybe for that reason, your rapping has shifted focus to the lyrics more so than trend or musicality. It emphasizes the feeling of the words over a particular format or beat. RM: Exactly. In—was it 2017? Pdogg was talking to Yoongi, Hobi and me about our style, and said, “Namjoon, it feels like you’re becoming a lyricist,” and it really stuck with me. I have a lot of thoughts lately when I watch Show Me the Money or listen to hip hop songs from the Billboard chart. My music started out all about my life as a rapper, so I spend a lot of time thinking about where I am now.

So you’ve started to ask yourself who you are as a musician? RM: I listened to Lee So-ra’s seventh album again today. I keep changing my mind but, if I had to pick between her sixth and seventh album, I like her seventh a little more. And then I listen to the most popular songs on Billboard, and I feel kind of thrown off. Um … There’s something Whanki Kim said that’s been running around in my head lately: After moving to New York, he embraced the style of artists like Mark Rothko and Adolf Gottlieb, but then he said, “I’m Korean, and I can’t do anything not Korean. I can’t do anything apart from this, because I am an outsider.” And I keep thinking that way, too. That’s my main concern lately.

You can feel that on BE. As the members take on more prominent roles as songwriters and producers, characteristics of old Korean music—the kind of music you likely listened to in middle and high school—gradually entered your sound. But your music isn’t from that era, and it sounds like pop, but not quite. RM: The sound has to fit with the whole album so I couldn’t incorporate that feel into BTS songs, but the songs I’m listening to most lately have been Korean. Songs like P-Type’s “Don Quixote,” Dead’P’s “Spread My Wings,” Soul Company’s album The Bangerz. The impressions the songs from back then have left on me, the lyrics from back then and the lyrics from now, they’re different. So BE is both Korean and pop; it’s very unique, in my view.

I think that’s especially true for “Life Goes On.” It’s got a pop melody, but compared to “Dynamite,” it has a very different feel. It doesn’t slip deep into the sentimental, instead allowing the melody to flow naturally. RM: Exactly. The chorus is totally pop, and one of the writers was also American. But the song doesn’t really follow American music trends, weirdly. So I don’t know how “Life Goes On” is going to be received. It’s really calm, almost contemplative. So there’s lyrics, like, “Like an echo in the forest,” and, “Like an arrow in the blue sky.” The song kind of feels like that: It could just float off and disappear. It might even come off as bland next to “Dynamite.”

If nothing else, it seems the song will stick around for a long time. Maybe kids now will listen to it later on in the future. RM: I hope so. That’s the one thing I really hope for, people in the future, thinking back and saying, “Oh, right! Remember that one song?” That’s what my favorite artists and other people who leave a lasting impression on me have in common. One thing common among the songs that have affected me a lot, like Lee So-ra’s seventh album, is that the lyrics they utter in their voice along with the overall sound stick with me. I hope when people look back, my words uttered with the sound of my voice, echoes for a long time in an auditory or visual way, or even throughout their entire lives. But that’s the dilemma: We have all these bling-bling symbols of our success, but we’re not that kind of team.

And yet, BTS’s career path is even more “bling-bling” than ever. “Dynamite” was the top song on the Billboard Hot 100. RM: I was the first one to check our position (laughs) but I didn’t want to get too excited about it. I was scared of facing disappointment so I put the brakes on out of habit, and restrained myself. But on the other hand, I feel like I should relish this moment. This is a once-in-a-lifetime thing; shouldn’t I enjoy myself a bit? But I disliked that sensation of only feeling elated so I tried to be as objective as possible. I was just one small part of everything that made this happen.

It reminds me of that part, “Running faster than that cloud of rain / Thought that would be enough / Guess I’m only human after all,” from “Life Goes On.” RM: “Only human” sounds so appropriate for me right now. One time, I saw a dark cloud over the N Seoul Tower while I was walking along the Han River. I was with a friend and we talked about where the border between where it’s raining and where it’s not might be, and suddenly, we came up with the idea to run and find that spot. But after running for 10 minutes, the cloud was even further away than it had been. At that moment, the puzzle pieces snapped into place. You think you can go faster than that dark cloud? No. That’s what I realized then. And I just like what Whanki Kim said, that maybe I can’t do anything not Korean, because that’s what I am. I used to work late and then stay up all night when things weren’t working out, sometimes walking from Samseong to Sinsa station, thinking everything through. But now, like the saying, I realize that maybe I can’t do more than what I am.

On Weverse, you said that you gained some muscle from working out. Could the change to your body improve your creativity in the long term? RM: I started to think I better change myself a little, physically or mentally. I’m talking about being steady. I used to bombard myself with challenges and worries and just get over them, but now I think it’s time to find that one sturdy thing and plant myself there. The best choice was working out, and I think it’s changing my behavior a lot. I’m hoping that, if I keep working out for a year or two, I’ll become a different person.

Music is your job, but also your life. Like you expressed in “Dis-ease,” how would you say you feel about your work? RM: This is my job and my calling and I feel a great sense of responsibility. I think I’m lucky and happy that I can solely worry about my creative process. And I feel very responsible to those people who put their trust in me, so I try not to cross any lines, judge myself honestly, and always be professional. Those are the responsibilities that come with the job—the things I have to do and the promises I won’t betray. But if I’m going to do it, I’m going to be happy while I do it. That’s not always going to be possible, but that’s generally how I feel.

Well then, how do you feel about BTS at the moment? RM: BTS is … Well, it’s really hard to tell. (laughs) When BTS started out, I thought, “I know everything there is to know about BTS,” but now it’s, “I don’t know a single thing about BTS.” In the past, I felt like I knew everything, and that anything was possible. Call it childish or ambitious. But if I were to ask myself, “What is BTS to me?” I would say, we’re just people who met each other because we were meant to. But it feels like the stars aligned and a startup company became a unicorn, with perfect timing and lots of smart people. Looking back, there were a lot of ironies and contradictions in this industry. I thought I figured them out one by one, and then finally understood the whole thing. But now I feel like I don’t know anything at all. Anyway, to sum up: My young, reckless twenties. The events of my twenties. There were a lot of contradictions, people, fame, and conflict all tangled together, but it was my choice and I got a lot out of it, so my twenties were an intense but also happy time.

And what about you, as one individual person? RM: I’m a real Korean person. (laughs) A person who wants to do something in Korea. I think millennials are charging into society stuck between the analog and digital generations, and what I chose is BTS. So I try to integrate myself into our generation, try to understand what people like me are thinking, and try to work hard to capture that feeling without being a burden on them. This might be another kind of irony itself, but this is who I am. I’m a 27-year-old Korean. That’s what I think.

Trans © Weverse

#bangtan #namjoon #weverse #weverse magazine #comeback interview #be album #201128 #2020

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fishmongeringstudies · 3 years

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scene fifteen: in moments of deep and debilitating anxiety remember that someone out there is thinking about how to fit a horse-shaped figurine up their ass and that they will probably succeed

in the history of sexuality: volume one michel foucault puts forth the idea that we as a society have gotten bad at dying due to a lack of practice. in the place of death, he posits, we obsess with life. every tedious stage of it, spotlit and burnt into our retinas so that even when we lie awake in bed with our eyes shut, visions of the future stalk through the darkness like specters. we are categorically unable to predict what lies ahead on the yellow brick road and obligated to try. as a result, we have become shrewd, planning creatures.

we have lost our touch with death. we are out of touch with it. we do not die enough, even though everyone you speak to will likely agree that each of us only dies once.

in a half-hearted bid to help its students cope with the fact that the world had been consumed overnight by a pandemic which was steadily eating away at the sanity and sanctity of life as we knew it and everything was fucking terrible, my college came up with a plan wherein instead of four classes in the fall, we would only have to take three. in exchange january would be given up to a four-week speedrun of one more class, so as to complete the holy rectangle. consumed with hubris and distracted by the legend of zelda: breath of the wild, the game which had eaten up the last five months of my life and promised to follow up with the rest of it, i decided to take a philosophy course on personal identity. on the first day of class i logged onto zoom, my personal sleep paralysis demon, at eleven on a monday night to my professor asking us completely seriously: what makes you you?

my toes, i guess? i have ten of them. i mean most people have ten toes, but mine are pretty weird looking. are we done here?

we were not done here. we proceeded to investigate every aspect of the twenty-first century conception of the self, from the lumpy flesh bag which contained our affectionately soft and squishy parts to the memory, the continuous narrative that held all our dimmest and brightest moments together. we doubted each one, flirted with it; then we cast it away. was the self the brain? no. was the self the body? no. was the self the memory, the shreds of past glories, was the self actually a collection of selves? is the you who plucked that goldfish out of the pond at age seven because you thought lungs meant you were invincible the same you who wrung their hands nervously together as they stood in front of the cashier this morning, waiting for the person behind the counter to ring up your groceries?

there was a counter for everything, you see. i know this because i presented a quarter of them. it's fun to shoot things down, less fun to be shot at; having been gunned out of the sky several times in my life i make it a point to keep my eyes trained on the horizon when i am out and about these days. so yes. people are not really. really what? they simply aren't. we have been living in a farce of reality, telling ourselves we matter when we have never been able to articulate with certainty the exact nature of that 'we' to begin with. or should i say me?

one night in late january while lying in bed after a three hour breath of the wild korok hunt, drifting peacefully into the ether, a thought flashed across my mind: WHERE DO PEOPLE GO WHEN THEY FALL ASLEEP.

i bolted upright in bed, heart hammering like there was a hammer in my chest and a little man holding the hammer and that motherfucker was swinging like he had hell to pay.

it turns out my extensive history of making jokes about immortality isn't just a reflection of my overinflated ego. it's a reflection of this:

michel foucault was sometimes criticized for his armchair philosophy style of tackling what were, at heart, deeply empirical human issues. even if the epistemic foundations were sound, there was often a clear disconnect between the ideas he espoused and the communities which they were to be applied to. this is a criticism every philosopher deals with at some point in their life. this is a critique of philosophy as a whole. stop smoking your damn bong and get back out here, skinny academia man. there's a whole world to see.

in season three episode eighteen of the penumbra podcast by sophie takagi kaner and kevin vibert a character named buddy aurinko stops in the middle of a debilitating fit of coughs, and admits in a wet, cracking voice that she does not want to die. 'i don't want to die,' she says to herself, standing in her office and overlooking a heist of astronomical proportions. her heart is made of steel; it pumps gasoline through a body more metal than flesh. she is half human in the most literal sense, with a clockwork soul and a gunmetal smile. in spite of the alarming state of decay the radiation exposure has left her body in, she wants to live. she fights for it. she leaves the heist to her crewmates and escapes to a room that will protect her from shock waves that would otherwise stop her mechanical heart. kicking her heels off and running and stumbling down the hallway, she makes it to safety just in time to hear the explosion go off.

life is a firework show in the sense that we are surrounded by highly-flammable and explosive objects which look nice from afar and are a threat to our safety up close. this analogy made sense when i started typing it but it seems i've come up short. life is a firework show. i like things that eat darkness. i am a firefly. i make fire take flight.

i think michel foucault was right, in some ways. we are living in abundance. i do not mean a physical abundance, a pile of tailored suits at the foot of the bed; i mean an abundance of life. the distribution is disastrously uneven. but the average is high. we emerge into a life which assumes we will stay for a long, long time, which fluffs the pillows and plans the high school graduations and sets aside money in a bank account for our first car, our second apartment, our third lover. we emerge into celebration. happy birthday. cue candles. cue applause.

but on a purely individual level, is it really that bad to be gorilla-glued to life? should we expect the other shoe to drop at thirty instead? what about the mid-life crisis? what about the cat on the windowsill? as death grows to terrify us, so does life. they are two sides of a coin which, when flipped, always lands heads-up. but i propose a counter-argument. i propose joy. joy in standing in the supermarket and running your hands across rows of blushing apples. joy in starting an argument you know you will win. joy in waking up to the shrill screech of your alarm only to discover that today's morning classes have been canceled due to the snow piled up outside your window. we have progressed too far down the yellow brick path to be caught up in false dichotomies. you can love something you fear. you can soak yourself in it, drench yourself in it, tip it down your throat like champagne. flip a coin and it lands both sides up. flip two coins. flip the table and sit on its belly for a while.

are we done here? never. not in a thousand years.

06.04.21

#the author would like to add at this point that foucault's point re: life is that the state deployed biopower to control it #and this was not very great #think family growth policies or the obsession with the birth rate and population growth. not very great indeed #however the author did not start this blog to talk about the state as they do this enough in their stupid papers #so they will talk about the individual instead. because it's summer. and summer is about the self (yahoo answers said so)

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purplesurveys · 3 years

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1264

Who are you subscribed to on YouTube? Oh man, I’m probably subscribed to over a hundred, if not 200. I’ve subscribed to channels relevant to interests I’ve had over the years, and since it’s not my habit to do spring cleaning on my feeds, the subscriptions have just keep piling up even if I no longer keep up with literally like 98% of them.

Do you like to go to the farmer's market? I don’t think I’ve ever been in one yet. They aren’t very common here and the ones we do have are pricey and mostly inaccessible to the everyday consumer, I’m sure.

What will (or was) the color of your wedding dress be? I wouldn’t want any other color than white.

What's your favorite melon? I don’t like fruits.

What was the name of the last pet of yours that died? Arlee. Technically my family mostly considered her as just Nina’s pet, but the sting was felt all the same when we learned she died.

When was the last time you wished the day would just get over with? Yesterday, because it was Friday. Pretty self-explanatory, I wanted to get to the weekend so I can finally let go of work for a couple of days.

Name one person you've never had a fight with: Andi. I think we’re both afraid of pissing the other off, which works out for us lol.

What are you currently listening to? I can just hear the really loud whirring of my electric fan because it’s a grossly humid day today.

What would you rather have: cat or dog? Dogs.

Who is your least favorite person in real life? I have a lot of uncles I just don’t like.

Do you ever watch anybody's live stream of... anything, really? Technically, yeah. I will sometimes tune in to livestreams of lofi music on YouTube, but I do it to listen, not to watch.

Does your house have security cameras? No.

If you go grey as you age, would you dye your hair or let it be? I think I might dye it for a certain period of time, but I also think I would eventually reach the point where I’ll just accept it and slowly let go of the dye.

What was the last establishment you stopped going to due to bad service? What happened? I haven’t run into much bad service, but I’ll never forget how long my order and bill took for Mad Mark’s. I never really vowed per se to never go back there again and I definitely didn’t confront the staff, but I haven’t eaten there since that incident.

What soundtrack do you listen to the most? Not a big soundtrack listener.

Was there a family secret you weren’t told about until you were an adult? Nah, they’re kept from us until now. The biggest one I’ve heard about was having a kleptomaniac in the family but we were never told who it is.

Do you have an opinion most people you meet seem to disagree with you? Yeah, my dislike for fruits.

What’s something you like to have many options to choose from? Clothes, I guess, like bucket hats. I don’t shop a lot and clothes aren’t a priority in my budget, so when I do pick out clothes, it has to be exactly what I want so that I don’t feel it was a waste of money.

What’s the strangest decorative object you own? We have several quirky, disconnected decor in the living room from gifts we’ve acquired over the years. One object I can tell you about is the polar bear glass figurine we have on the coffee table.

What’s a thing you couldn’t imagine doing with your life right now? Dating around.

What’s been your proudest moment? Managing to stay alive this year and turn my life around for the better when I thought there was no hope.

What’s the filthiest non-pornographic movie you’ve seen? Eyes Wide Shut, probably.

Do you know anyone who doesn't seem to be fond of animals? I don’t think so. Like any animal...? I would find that quite odd, honestly. And I wouldn’t want to be friends with them if we weren’t already close .

Are you planning any outings or trips anytime soon? Whereabouts? No, nothing set in stone. I do want to fly out to South Korea soon, though.

Do you know anyone who has a phobia of a certain animal? I know a few people who are afraid of dogs.

Is there a particular brand of technology/electronics that you prefer? Yeah, Apple.

Is there a singer whose voice gives you goosebumps/chills? Hayley Williams and Jin, especially when he’s belting; and I don’t listen to her much, but I find that Billie Eilish has a unique voice that sounds really nice.

And is there a singer whose voice you simply can't stand? Selena Gomez for some of her songs, Meghan Trainor for most of her songs.

Are there any authors that are particularly dominant on your bookshelf? No.

Have you seen any photographs or videos that made you smile today? Sure.

Which item in your fridge are you most looking forward to consuming? My aunt sent over this gigantic-ass slab of salmon that I can’t wait to eat as sashimi. I already had a few pieces last night and it was hea ven ly.

Has anyone you know got into a new relationship lately? Hmm, I don’t think so. I know my coworker Dev got into a relationship a few weeks ago but it fizzled out as soon as it started because the guy was shitty.

If you menstruate, do you experience much PMS prior to it? Only on the emotional side; I rarely get physical symptoms. I usually feel down or emotionally heavy a few days before my period.

Have you ever had a tattoo covered up or added to? No, I don’t have any tattoos. Can you remember the last time you had a sudden change of mind? Hmm, like last night. I wanted to stay up to maximize the weekend, buuuut I decided against it and slept instead since I had been up since 2 in the morning.

When was the last time you did something on a whim? Two weeks ago when I impulsively dropped a thousand bucks to have cheese tarts delivered to Angela and Reena, hahaha.

Were you raised by both of your parents? If not, then who raised you? My mom, grandma, and one of my aunts were the main people who raised me. Dad works overseas, so he was never at home much.

Have you ever began a relationship with someone you knew for less than a week? No, I wouldn’t do that.

Has one of your friends ever tried to ‘hook you up?’ Mik tried to pair me with one of his friends just days before I finally implied on social media that I was no longer in a relationship. It was a cool ego boost but I declined, since my emotions were still super turbulent then. Andi tried to initiate sex with me once too, but I also declined.

What is your card game of choice? I hate card games; I can never seem to understand them lmao, though that’s really more of a me problem than anything else.

What is your favourite books series? Growing up, I really loved the Septimus Heap series. But the thing about it was that I got into it while the series was still ongoing; and with how bad my attention span is, I always forgot the events/plot whenever the newest book came out.

So whenever that happened I had to read the entire series from Book 1; eventually the number of books I had to reread/revisit became too many (it was a seven-part series) and I simply just lost the time to read and I never got to know about the conclusion.

Do you prefer landmarks or street names when being given directions? Street names – more precise. Landmarks to me can be pretty subjective – a green building might look blue to me, and I could just end up being lost.

Do you read the prologues in the beginnings of books? Sure.

What was your favourite gym class moment? If I genuinely like or already play the sport that was being taught. That’s why PE table tennis was a lot of fun for me.

Do you think that ocean boardwalks are fun? I’ve never been on one but I imagine they are fun, yeah.

Do you dread when people ask you to sign their yearbooks? That’s not a tradition here.

Do you have a favourite Scooby-Doo movie? No. I was too young for Scooby-Doo in a sense that I do remember watching the movies as a 3/4 year old as they were kept on in the background at home, but I didn’t get any of the plots/didn’t really appreciate the films.

Do you think it’s cute when toddlers try to run away and fall down? Sometimes, yeah. If the fall looked nasty I would obviously be concerned.

Do you enjoy listening to your grandparents tell stories of their past? Honestly, only one of my grandparents would be the type to do this but he’s been dead for six years now. It’s a big shame he passed before I could bond with him the way I had always wanted to. My three other grandparents are either too closed off or too quiet to share stories from their youth.

Do you have a crush on someone? Nah, nothing more than a celebrity crush.

If so... what does his/her name begin with?

What attracts you to them?

Do they know that you like them?

If they don't know, why didn't you tell them?

Name two people that you miss: Angela and Laurice.

Have you ever seen Titanic? More times than I can count. I’m sure I memorize like 80% of the script, too.

Have you ever swam with dolphins? No. I’m not so sure if I’ve seen dolphins, either. Maybe I have? Or maybe I’m confusing it with whales...idrk.

When was the last time you had a stomachache? Wednesday.

What's going to bed early for you? 11 PM or midnight.

Do you want to have a big family in the future? I used to, but I don’t think that’s the future I want anymore. One or two kids should be okay.

What was the last thing you did that gave you a rush? Technically speaking, an orgasm, I guess?? Lmao idk

Favorite Nicholas Cage movie? I don’t think I have one.

Have you had your Covid vaccine yet? Which one, if you have? Yeah, I’m fully dosed. Sinovac.

If you've had your vaccine, did you experience any side effects? I was suuuuuuper tired right after my first dose and I wanted to be knocked the fuck out, but I went right back to work after the shot because I am allergic to filing leaves hahaha. Second dose went smoothly.

What's the next item of clothing that you intend to buy for yourself? A bucket hat or maybe one of the Fila x BTS shirts because the collection is actually quite cute!

What Facebook groups have you found the most helpful? I join Facebook groups to be entertained, not because I actively look for advice.

Do you like your butt? Why or why not? Yeah. It...has a good form hahahahahaha.

Have you ever personally been a victim of homophobia? Yes, a few years ago I went to a food park with my ex-girlfriend. I was already not feeling my best that day to begin with, so having to see an old woman stare daggers at us for what felt like years really stung. I felt small under her look and almost cried, but in the end I felt angry that I momentarily felt shame about my relationship. I decided to just piss the woman off on purpose and do PDA right in front of her.

Do you think you’d be happier if you had a pet? I have two dogs at present and I know they make me extremely happy.

Who was the last person you went on a date with? Gabie.

Were you ever hospitalized as a little kid? No. The first and only time I was hospitalized (other than being birthed), I was about 12, I think.

What’s your favorite way to curl your hair? I don’t do that. I rarely style my hair.

At what age did you start swearing? I was 11.

What is something you physically can’t do? Ride a bike.

What do like better, apples or oranges? I don’t like any fruits; but in terms of flavored stuff, I like orange-flavored food, especially chewy candy, slightly more.

Around the holidays, do you hope for snow? Well, no.

What are your top two favorite bands? Paramore and Against Me!

How many people do you 100% trust? There are a handful. I generally trust easily just because I like to believe all people are kind and loyal – but I can also take it away in the snap of a finger.

Do you care what others think about you? Not so much.

Has anyone ever called you a bitch? Sure.

Did you watch Teletubbies when you were younger? Yeah but just super super faint memories. It wasn’t one of my main shows.

Do you have any licenses other than your driver's license? I don’t.

Could you live the rest of your life without eating meat? I doubt it. I could try, but I think I’d get cranky and start looking for meat way earlier than I would like to admit.

Have you ever had a rolling backpack? Yup, if you mean a stroller. I think I’ve answered this on a previous survey.

Did you make any money today? No, because it’s a weekend. What was the highest place you've ever jumped from? Nothing dramatically high. I’ve had acrophobia-themed nightmares in the past, so even though I don’t actually have a fear of heights, the idea of jumping from a high place still makes me antsy.

Have you ever gone swimming in a river? Not that I can recall.

What was the last souvenir someone got you? I dunno if it counts but Andi bought merch from the AEW shop but made sure to also get a CM Punk sticker set for me :(

Do you have a favorite remix of a song? Remixes have never been my thing. What do you think is the most saddest sounding instrument? Piano.

Do you really pay attention to the ratings on movies? Yeah they can definitely affect the level of appreciation I hold towards a film. For instance, if I genuinely enjoyed a movie only to find out it has average to bad reviews, it invites me to think more critically about the movie.

Do you have a favorite species of wild cat (tiger/lion/cougar/etc.)? No.

If you had $500,000, what would you do with it? Give half to my parents and let them do whatever they wish it. With the remaining P12,500,000, I’d probably get myself my own condo and have it fully furnished, then get braces, then get a new phone and laptop. I’ll have a bunch of money still left, I’m pretty sure – the rest of it I’ll save.

Did the last person you touched lips with have a kid? No. I mean, I have honestly no clue what’s going on in her life now, but I know she doesn’t want kids so this is very unlikely.

"First loves are never really over." Is this true for you? It’s true in a sense that she left me a lot of trauma and self-esteem issues that will irrevocably always be a part of me now even though I’ve worked hard to resolved most of them by myself.

Did you like Michael Jackson before he died? Yes, because he has always been my favorite singer’s role model.

What are some things that would make you break up with someone? I don’t know how to answer this question, honestly. All the red flags were thrown and tossed and slapped into my face and down my throat for six years yet I never left. I don’t actually know what my limits are, and I believe it’s because my coping mechanism has to just accept things and suck them up no matter how bad they get. That’s what I’m trying to change for myself now.

What was the worst breakup you've ever had? I’ve had two breakups with the same person, and the second one was worse.

#survey #surveys

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fyeah-bangtan7 · 4 years

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RM: “I spend a lot of time thinking about where I am now”

#bangtan #rm #m:weverse magazine #o:interview #201128

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nightskyfangirl · 4 years

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I Heard a Rumor Everything was Okay - Chapter Three (Five)

Characters: Allison Hargreeves (POV), Five Hargreeves, Vanya Hargreeves, Klaus Hargreeves, Reginald Hargreeves, Rest of the Hargreeves Siblings (Mentioned)

Summary: A collection of time Allison helped her siblings with her Rumors

Warnings: None in this chapter. Everything is canon-typical

This also on AO3 by the same name <3

DO NOT REPOST.

_______

Allison kept her gaze purposefully focused on her plate. Usually if one of them spoke at the table, Dad was quick to shut it down, but tonight, it was a subject he chose to address – Vanya was asking to join the Academy. Again. Earlier, a photographer had come by to get pictures for an article. Naturally, only the Umbrella Academy and Dad were in the picture. Vanya had been in an annoyingly poor mood since. Dad’s mood hadn’t been much better since Vanya had confronted him in front of the photographer. Allison didn’t get why Vanya kept trying. The Umbrella Academy was a group of, as Dad put it, people gifted with abilities far beyond the ordinary. As much as Allison hated the thought, Vanya wasn’t gifted like they were. If Dad allowed her to join them on missions, she’d only get herself or one of them injured. And for what? Vanya’s pride? “As I’ve told you before, Number Seven,” Dad continued, “you’re ordinary. You can’t—” “So are you.” Allison was shaken from her thoughts at the new voice. It wasn’t Vanya replying anymore. Allison looked up. Five had his head tilted as if he was simply curious, but he had a slight smirk on his face. Allison knew the look too well.

Damn. “You’re ordinary too, Dad,” Five said, matter-a-fact. The look in his eyes was similar to the one Klaus got when he lit something on fire. “But you have the figurine, the interviews, the photos, everything. Vanya has as much right—” “There is your problem, Number Five. Your premise is based on the mistaken fact that everything you have is a right. The only reason you children have the fame you enjoy is because the Umbrella Academy—” “Has powers? Our popularity is because of our abilities. You didn’t give us our powers.” Five scoffed. “You’re not the reason we’re in the news. But we are the reason you—” “No!” Dad barked. Allison flinched. Anger flashed in Five’s eyes at Dad’s tone, but he didn’t say anything. While everyone had been quiet during Vanya and Dad's talk, now they were frozen. Allison wondered if she was the only one holding her breath. Dad stood. “Come with me.” Five’s eyes narrowed as their Father walked a short distance away from the table. There was one thing Allison knew Five couldn’t resist – information. Even Allison was curious as to what their Father had to say. Five stood slowly, avoiding his siblings’ eyes, and walked over to their Father. Allison wasn’t going to stare, but when she noticed all the others were, she didn’t see the point in trying to avoid it. Even Grace watched their quiet exchange. The longer she watched, Allison wasn’t sure it could be called an exchange. Dad did all the talking and Five only paled with every whispered word. His hands were balled into fists at his sides, but he stayed quiet. Allison read his lips as he said, “No.” Dad nodded, satisfied. A moment later, the two both walked back to the table and sat. Allison noticed Five shoot a small glance at Klaus at the same time Vanya stole a look at Five. The rest of the meal was pin-drop silent. The short minutes of free time before bed were always rushed. Allison usually spent hers reading magazines or talking with Luther, but tonight Luther was working on an essay he needed for tomorrow. A magazine she was trying to read was propped up in Allison’s lap. Every few sentences, she found her thoughts drifting back to Five and Dad. She’d never seen Five stop like that. He didn’t give up mid-argument. But then, she hadn’t seen him fight Dad before either. Not so obviously, at least. His hits at Dad were usually looks and short, sharp quips. Allison stood from her bed and put her magazine aside. She didn’t bother marking her page – she’d have to restart the article anyway. She couldn’t even remember what it was on. Klaus and Ben were sitting in the hall talking. They talked about ghosts most of the time. From what she’d heard, Ben was a good distraction from them. A streak of blue the color of their pajamas ran past her before darting down the stairs. Allison rolled her eyes. Diego didn’t seem to ‘get’ the concept of walking. At the end of the hall, Luther’s door was shut. Allison walked up to Five’s door and knocked. Inside she heard him sigh. “Not now,” he called. The scratching of a pen against paper was audible even in the hall. Ben glanced away from Klaus to Allison. He shook his head. Don’t. Allison looked away from Ben and knocked again. Five didn’t reply this time, but Allison wasn’t giving up. She knocked again but this time she didn’t stop. Her knuckles rapped against the door in a constant barrage. Five should have known just locking his door wasn’t enough to keep them out. She heard a low growl from inside. The door opened and Five glanced out at her. He leaned against the door frame looking annoyed, but his entire frame was tense. He was still in his uniform, but his hair wasn’t styled anymore. It looked like he’d run his fingers through it too many times. “What do you want?” He snapped. “I’m busy.” The others all talked about Luther’s self-importance and bragging, but he had nothing on Five’s arrogance. He was infuriating and Allison had a feeling he did it on purpose. Allison clasped her hands behind her back and smiled. “What are you working on?” She asked, forcefully innocent. To her right, Klaus stopped talking mid-sentence and looked up at her, eyebrow raised. She ignored him. Five’s eyes narrowed. He started to shut the door, but Allison’s hand shot out and stopped him. She was getting her answers. Five rolled his eyes. “Equations, Allison. I’m working on equations and the longer you stay here, I’m going to forget where I was.” “What happened earlier? What did Dad say?” Before she even finished, Five’s eyes hardened into a glare. “It doesn’t matter.” “I want to know.” “Why do you care?” “Why don’t you want to tell me?” “Because it doesn’t matter.” “If it didn’t matter you would have already answered instead of wasting your time talking to me.” “Allison—” Ben started. Klaus smacked his shoulder and shook his head. Five’s mouth formed a tight line. “Will you let me in?” She gave Klaus and Ben a pointed look and Five sighed. Reluctantly, he opened his door. Allison stepped in and shut it behind her. His room wasn’t as decorated as hers. A small bookshelf sat by the window and he had a dart board on the wall, but other than that it was empty. She gave the dart board a dark look. If she moved it, he wouldn’t stop throwing darts, he’d just aim for the wall instead. She hated the sound of the darts hitting the board. It echoed through the walls and kept her up at night because somehow it made sense to him to only use it at 2am. Five walked over to his window and spun to face her. “What. Do. You. Want?” Allison ignored the question. “I admire what you did for Vanya. It was stupid—” Five scoffed. “—and I don’t know what you got out of it, but I was on your side.” “Get to the point.” “Whatever Dad said got to you. I just want to know what it was.” Five laughed but his voice was sharp. “It didn’t get to me. And why do you want to know? If you think you’ll be able to use it against me, you’re wrong.” “I’m trying to help you!” “Why?” Five snapped. “I don’t need your help. I don’t want your help—” “Then tell me. Prove it. Tell me and if you really don't need my help, I'll leave.” Five glared. “I’m not falling for that. You know, I think all the time you spend around Luther is lowering your IQ if you actually believe I would fall for such a pathetic attempt at-” “Don’t bring Luther into this.” “Why not?” “Five, last chance. Tell me or—” “Or what?” “I heard a Rumor—” Five’s eyes widened, and he was instantly surrounded in blue. “—that you didn’t try to jump away from this conversation!” The blue died around Five and he gaped at her. “That’s not fair. Undo it.” “I trying to help you! If you stopped expecting the worst—” “YOU JUST RUMORED ME!” Five yelled. Allison crossed her arms. Outside, Klaus and Ben stopped talking. Five lowered his voice but pointed a finger at her chest. “You’re giving me every reason to expect the worst. What’re you going to do next? Rumor me into telling you?” Allison decided not to tell him that had been the original purpose of her last Rumor. “Not if you tell me yourself.” “Why can’t you just leave it alone?” “You looked scared, Five!” Her patience was wearing thin and she was finding it hard to keep from yelling back at him. “When he said whatever he said, you looked scared. ” Five’s mouth shut with a snap and somehow, his eyes became even more guarded. He shoved his hands back in his pockets. It was a nervous habit he always fell back on and she wasn't sure he even knew he did it. She could see him warring with himself. He shot a look at his notebooks and made a decision. “He threatened Klaus.” Allison blinked. That wasn’t what she was expecting. “What? Why would he threaten Klaus?” She asked. Klaus was the most carefree of all of them. It didn’t make sense. “How would he threaten Klaus?” Five scoffed and muttered something about them being ‘clueless.’ “Why don’t you just ask him?” She turned and looked to the door. Ben and Klaus were still talking outside and— “I’m not being serious, Allison. Don’t actually ask Klaus.” He rubbed a hand over his face. Klaus? Of all people, he made the least sense? Why would Five even care? It wasn’t his style. He cared about himself and his equations; that’s where the list ended. Allison didn’t know what to say and she didn’t know what to do either. Five looked at the notebook still open on his bed. Her question was somewhat answered, and she figured that was the best she was going to get. She turned to the book too. It was covered in scribbles Allison couldn’t decipher beyond that it was math. All of his papers had math. “What is it?” She asked, knowing she wouldn’t understand even if he chose to respond. He hesitated before answering. “Projections, hypothesizes.” He walked over to the notebook and picked it up. His eyes scanned over his notes. “I’ve been trying to figure out time travel for a few months now.” Allison frowned. For once, he didn’t try to make it confusing. “What does the math have to do with it?” Five rolled his eyes but relaxed a little. “It’ll help me go to the right point in time. Time is infinite. I have to find the right time to jump to. It’s not like the spatial jumps. With those I just picture where I want to go, but with time… It’s like a dark room that you’ve never been in before, yet you have to navigate without mistake. The math gives me a flashlight.” He glanced up at Allison and she nodded her understanding. He continued, “I accidently traveled in June and went forward a week so I know I can—” “Dad said you were in Ontario doing an interview.” “Of course he did.” Five glanced up at her with a grim smile. “The point is, if I figure this out, I can get us out of here. If I can figure out the right equations, I can take us to any time period. Dad won’t be able to find us.” Five shrugged. “Maybe I can travel us a hundred or so years into the future. The old man will be dead by then.” Five picked up his pen and adding something to one of the equations. Allison’s mind was reeling. She’d heard Five and Dad talk about time traveling, but it had all been hypothetical. She hadn’t thought he could actually do it. “I don’t—” “It’ll be a group decision,” he said, looking up. “I’m not going to force you to go. Any of you. But I can take us somewhere safe. We’ll still be together. That’s all that matters anyway.” He turned back to his work. “I’m getting close. I think I’ll have it soon.” The markings he added to the page didn’t make any sense. “How would we—We wouldn’t even know what to expect. Could you really take all of us with you? You have trouble just spatial jumping more than yourself; how would you do this?” Five sighed and turned his attention back to her. “Does it matter? If I can get us out of here, does it really matter?” “Yes.” Five laughed. “Come on, Allison. What’s the worst that could happen?” *** At breakfast, Five slammed a knife into the table.

#The Umbrella Academy #fanfiction #Number Five #Allison Hargreeves #TUA #I Heard A Rumor Everything was Okay #NightSkyFangirl

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megalony · 5 years

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Our house

This is a new dad! Ben Hardy series I am going to be working on which is sort of like Family Ties. I hope you will all enjoy it.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogermeddow @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez @jonesyaddiction @rogahs-drowse @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls

Summary: Ben and (Y/n) have moved into a new house with their five kids. But they aren’t getting along with the neighbours and their house is far from quiet with rowdy kids that each have their own problems.

Ben Hardy masterlist

Series masterlist

Enjoy.

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"Hello?" Ben rushed the word through a pant as he held the door halfway open, gripping the wood to the point he thought he was going to get splinters in his palm. He leaned his head to the side as his eyes darted around for a split second, unsure who was at the door and what she wanted.

It was clear by the way he tapped his index finger against the grey wooden door and how he was shifting his weight from foot to foot that he was becoming rather impatient and as if he had something more pressing to turn his attention to. He moved his left arm to push his youngest child a little higher on his hip, feeling her head leaning on his bare arm which made him internally cringe from the feeling of her wet hair sticking to his skin.

"I'm your neighbour, Tina." The woman with clearly dyed blonde hair that fell down to her shoulders smiled in a way that seemed rather awkward and clearly forced. Her eyes creased at the corners showing her features to be sickly sweet in the kind of way that didn't look genuine.

Ben's brows rose as his lips parted into an open-mouthed smile but it was clear he still didn't know what she wanted. He had seen her in her garden last week when they moved in and they had a small two-second introduction then. He didn't feel like this was her formally introducing herself as his neighbour, there was something she wanted but he didn't know what and he didn't know if he really cared. He was rather busy and she was holding him up.

"Nice to meet you... is, is there something I can help you with?" Ben's finger tapped quicker against the wood when he heard one of the boys shouting. He really did have to go and sort them out.

"I thought I'd introduce myself and... um, I wondered if everything was okay? I heard shouting..." She trailed off, clasping her hands together in front of her but her words made Ben's own smile become forced and rather crude. Now he understood why she was here and it wasn't a reason that made him want to get to know his new neighbour very well.

She wasn't here to introduce herself and have a chat, she was here because she was nosy and she had heard Ben and the boys having an argument.

This was exactly the kind of thing Ben hated in their old house and the one before that. If Ben and the kids rowed then the neighbours would hurry round and pester them and try to intervene and tell them all to calm down or argue. It got to the point where Ben had thrown a punch at one of the neighbours who started speaking out of term and insinuating that Ben had anger issues and wasn't a good dad.

They moved to this house a week ago because they needed more space but it had taken this past week to get all the rooms decorated, the shelves and beds and wardrobes all put up and to get toys and clothes ready. They had finally gotten pictures up on the walls and the furniture where they wanted it and everything was now unpacked. They didn't have the time to go and have a chat with their new neighbours and frankly, Ben didn't want to.

Out of the pair, (Y/n) was the more sociable person, she could talk and converse and get along with the neighbours but Ben couldn't. It wasn't that he was unkind or crude in any way, his personality was generally calm and innocent and he got along with everybody. But he just couldn't deal with neighbours. Their home was rowdy and neighbours listened in and thought they knew everything but they got things wrong.

"Everything is fine, thank you, my boys are just a bit hyperactive." Ben tipped his head down as he smiled, clearly indicating that he wanted to close the door.

"Are you sure, because-"

"It was lovely to meet you, but I've really got to go and check on the boys, everything is fine." Ben forced a smile before he closed the door, his smile instantly fading until he looked at Charlie who was curled up against him with her towel wrapped around her frame. She was tracing one of the tattoos on Ben's chest that had captured her attention.

Turning around, Ben headed over to the stairs and made his way up the black carpeted steps that didn't creak like the ones in the old house did. He had to stop for a moment to get his bearings and turned left, heading down the hallway to get to where he could hear two of his three boys shouting.

"What are you shouting for?" Ben stood in the doorway of one of the four bedrooms, his eyes darting between his two eldest boys as he wondered what on Earth they were doing and getting angry about.

"Dad he broke it!" Ronan couldn't help but shout as he held out one of his figurines so that Ben could see. The eldest loved collecting figures, it didn't matter what they were from, he had a lot of Marvel ones and a few Disney statue ones as well. Ronan was the reason the bedroom was full of shelves, so he could put up all of the figurines he owned.

The eldest, who was a double of Ben, held out one of his small Marvel figurines that had the arm and the gun snapped off which rested in his other hand. His face was burning red as he looked like he was going to cry. Ronan had a bad temper that he couldn't control and if things didn't go his way he didn't know what else to do but shout or cry or lash out and something.

"I didn't mean to." Carter responded, tipping his head down but he didn't look too phased.

Carter wasn't much of a double of Ben, he had hazel hair and chocolate eyes and his features were slightly different in the sense that he matched (Y/n) more than Ben. He didn't have a temper like his brother, he simply had an energy level that surpassed even Ben when he was at the gym. The second eldest could run around all day and still not be tired and he didn't sleep either. He had ADHD and he had a sleeping disorder that essentially meant that if he didn't have his meds at night, he wouldn't sleep and it wouldn't bother him or even slow him down.

"Take it downstairs and me or your mum will glue it together, it's okay-"

"He did it on purpose and it's snapped!"

"Ronan don't shout at me! If you want it fixing go and do as I said." Ben rose his voice to gain control before he ticked his head to the side to signal for the eldest to go. As bad as it seemed, Ronan was one of the main reasons the neighbours had come round a lot.

Ronan shouted a lot and it meant Ben shouted back when he wouldn't listen because Ronan simply wasn't afraid of (Y/n). She could tell him off or shout or punish him but he wouldn't learn from it or take it to heart. With Ben, if he laid it on thick and properly raised his voice, Ronan started to listen, he would feel bad and he would try and learn from his mistake or try and calm himself down. But it sounded like a screaming match to the neighbours and it seemed like Ben had a nasty temper but that wasn't the case.

"Carter, be more careful, if you're messing about don't do it in here go outside." Ben tipped his head back against the doorframe when Ronan pushed past him in a huff and stomped down the stairs to go to the kitchen where he knew the glue would be.

"Why do we have to share a room?" Carter sighed, keeping his head tilted down but his eyes up to look at Ben.

"There are four bedrooms in this house and seven people living in it buddy, only one person isn't sharing and that's Cody because he can't be in a room with either of you two. It's not that bad, buddy, this place is bigger anyway so were not all cramped together." Ben gave Carter a small smile before he left the room and headed down to the girls' room to get Charlie dressed.

Ben and (Y/n) had five kids and that meant none of them could have a room of their own. They bought this place because the last house only had three rooms and it was utterly cramped for them all but at the time they didn't have the time to move. Ben had been away a lot filming two movies back to back so moving was out of the option.

The last house had been so bad that Ronan and Carter had to share a room, Ella and Charlie had to share and Cody had to stay in Ben and (Y/n)'s room and the cramped space had been horrible. The house was only meant to be temporary, they moved in right before Charlie was born but they ended up staying for two years before coming here.

The girls didn't mind sharing a room because they were so close in age. Ella was three and Charlie was only two, there was only just a year between them and they were both toddlers. So sharing a room was ideal for them and for Ben and (Y/n).

But Ronan and Carter locked horns a lot, but it was the only option because Cody simply couldn't share with either of his big brothers. Cody was five but he had autism and he hated how Ronan snored and breathed loudly when he slept and with Carter not sleeping well, he was always moving around and it made Cody uncomfortable. It was easier for Cody to have the box room here so that he didn't have to share and he couldn't share with the girls because neither of them slept all the way through the night.

It was also safer for Cody to be on his own because he tended to lash out if any of his siblings upset him. He never meant it but he got upset and if he got into a sensory overload he would sit and scream or hyperventilate. Cody was the other reason that the neighbours normally tried to intervene and get involved.

"Where's mummy?" Ella smiled up at Ben when he entered the dark cherry blossom room that the girls shared. Ella had dark brown hair that was wavy at the ends which hung around her jawline and Ben was rather surprised right now that she wasn't in bed. It wasn't even tea time yet but Ella usually got rather tired.

"Downstairs making tea which I think is ready." Ben kissed the top of her head before he headed over to the changing table and set Charlie down. Her hair was almost bone dry but it was curling all around her head into small blonde waves.

Ben blew kisses onto Charlie's stomach before he started to do up the buttons on her onesie once he'd gotten her into a pull-up. Her smile and squeals always managed to make him laugh. He scooped his youngest up into his arms when she was changed into her rather fluffy onesie. Charlie tended to shift about a lot during the night and throw the covers off so in case she did that, they always made sure she was wearing something warm so she wouldn't get cold during the night.

Ben followed Ella out of the room but reached down just before she got to the stairs and pulled on her pyjama bottoms that were coming down. Ella didn't stop walking, she simply wriggled her hips to help Ben tug them over her pull up before she trotted downstairs.

Leaning down, Ben set Charlie to her feet so she could head into the dining room after Ella as Ben headed into the kitchen. Spotting (Y/n) instantly, Ben headed over and wrapped his arms around her middle just as she handed Ronan's figurine back to him. He leaned his head on her shoulder as she held his hands, her head turning to the side so she could look at him properly.

"All fixed?" He asked, his eyes landing on Ronan who was holding his figurine and inspecting it.

"Yeah." Ronan darted his eyes up to look at Ben before he headed into the dining room to sit down ready for dinner as Ben heard Carter jogging down the stairs, obviously having heard that dinner was ready. Carter ate a lot but with his bundles of energy, he burnt it all off and stayed very skinny.

"Who was at the door?" (Y/n) pressed a kiss to Ben's cheek, noticing by his expression that it wasn't someone they knew or were friends with.

"Lady from next door, heard the boys shouting and 'thought she could help'." Ben rolled his eyes, he was all for neighbours being friends and all, but he didn't think trying their neighbour was doing it the right way. It wasn't kind to try and be nosy and act like she knew what to do to help when she didn't know them at all. She didn't know how many kids they had, she didn't know Ben or (Y/n)'s names or the kid's names, she knew nothing about them but she came trying to muzzle in because she thought they were being rowdy.

"Have you seen Nigel from the other side yet?" (Y/n) hadn't met the neighbour Ben had talked to today but she met the man who had the house next to them on their right side. Ben shook his head with a blank expression, he didn't want to know them and (Y/n) knew it.

"Why?"

"Good, you'd row with him, I know it. Come on, dinner time." (Y/n) didn't want Ben getting to know Nigel because from what she had seen, he wasn't the kind of person Ben would get along with. He seemed nosy but rather odd and a bit creepy, the way he spoke with (Y/n) wasn't the kind of person she would get along with herself and she just knew Ben wouldn't get along well with him.

(Y/n) pressed her lips to Ben's quickly before untangling herself from his arms to go into the dining room where all the kids were already sat. Cody had been sitting in the kitchen with (Y/n) helping make dinner, cooking and baking were one of the few things that Cody could do without getting bored or unsettled.

Leaning over one of the chairs, Ben picked Charlie up so he could sit her in her high chair before he sat down next to her with Cody on his left.

"Boys, no shouting at the table." (Y/n) looked over at Ronan and Carter before her eyes drifted to look at Cody who was sitting beside her. He didn't like loud noises or raised voices and he couldn't eat if there was too much noise, it was one of the reasons they couldn't take Cody out to restaurants unless he wore headphones or they sat out the way in a quiet corner.

"Daddy, can you do the fairy lights tonight?" Ella looked over at Ben, meaning the heart-shaped fairy lights that they had bought just before they moved house. She loved any kind of lights like that but Ben hadn't gotten round to putting them up yet and Ella still had to decide whether she wanted them hanging over her bed or pinned on the wall next to her bed.

"Sure princess, after you've had a bath we'll put them up." Ben nodded, taking a bite of his food as his other hand held Charlie's fork to try and prompt her to eat something as well.

Ben's eyes drifted to the other end of the table, watching as Carter placed his hand over the top of his plastic cup of juice without saying anything as he continued to eat his dinner. A sigh passed through Ben's lips as he turned his attention to Cody who was the reason Carter was smothering his drink. Cody sometimes downed all of his drink at dinner and they tried to get him to eat something before he had another drink or he wouldn't eat. A lot of the time he would try and take someone else's drink but Ben and (Y/n) were trying to get him out of that habit.

"Cody, eat something first then I'll grab you another drink." Ben prompted, feeling relieved when Cody sunk back into his chair but started to eat anyway.

"Dad tell him off!"

Turning his head from looking at Charlie to looking at Ronan a few minutes later, Ben couldn't figure out the problem until his eyes trailed over the table and landed on Cody. The five-year-old had leaned over snatched some onion rings from Ronan's plate.

"Cody, you can't do that buddy it's not fair. There's more in the kitchen if you want them, Ronan." Ben ate one of his own onion rings as he kept his eyes on his boy sitting next to him who had his head tipped down, looking content enough as he ate his onion rings. He couldn't get angry with Cody because as bad as it was that he took other people's food and drink, he didn't understand yet. He saw something he wanted and he tried to take it thinking he could but he would learn soon enough.

"Idiot." Ronan grumbled before he flicked some mashed potato across the table at Cody who jumped when the food landed on his top.

Cody's response was simply to grab his beaker which he was clearly going to launch at his eldest brother. Groaning in frustration, Ben quickly leaned to his left and grabbed hold of Cody's hands, taking the beaker from him before he wrapped Cody up in his arms and sat him on his lap.

"What did you go and do that for? If he tries to take something of yours just tell him not to and block your plate and there's more in the kitchen anyway. Don't go and throw stuff at him like that." Ben handed Cody one of his onion rings to keep him calm and eating but there was clear anger on his face as he looked at Ronan. He knew not to tease or mess with Cody because it wasn't fair and they all knew Cody sometimes acted out but he couldn't help it. He wasn't being naughty or being rude on purpose.

"If I nicked his food you'd tell me off-"

"You understand it's wrong to do that, he doesn't now stop winding him up." (Y/n) cut in. She and Ben couldn't help but be protective over Cody because he got upset and if he didn't understand or he didn't feel safe or settled then he would start to cry or scream and they didn't want him getting upset. Ronan was the eldest, he was the one who understood better so he shouldn't go and tease or mess with Cody.

"Can I get some more?" Carter downed his drink before his eyes looked to both parents, their faces not even showing shock anymore when they noticed his plate was cleared.

"Course you can, and bring the onion rings and another drink through please." Ben handed Cody's beaker to Carter before he wandered through to the kitchen with his plate to grab some more. He usually finished first but came back with a second helping which Ben was pleased about because at least he was properly eating.

Ella didn't usually eat a lot, Charlie was still only two so she was still in a fussy stage, Ronan went in phases and with Cody it was always different. Some days Cody would refuse most meals and other days he would eat and want more and more or just eat whatever he was given and be finished. It was like the lottery with all the kids except for Carter, they could always count on him to eat everything and still go back for more.

When Carter came back through, Ben placed a few onion rings onto Charlie's plate since she was mostly finished. He dumped a few on his own plate and on Ronan's and then simply placed a lot on Cody's plate, knowing that Cody was now simply going to eat the onion rings and nothing else but he was eating so Ben didn't care.

Carter smiled gently and held Cody's beaker out to him, watching his younger brother juggle his beaker in one hand and a large handful of onion rings in the other until Ben silently took them from his hand and put them back on his plate. Not wanting him to try and stuff five into his mouth at once.

Glancing her eyes over to Ben, (Y/n) smiled as she leaned her head on her hand, looking at all five kids. They were all a handful in their own way and their house was never quiet or dull or calm, but both of them knew they wouldn't want it any other way.

#ben hardy #ben x reader #ben hardy imagine #dad! ben #imagine #borhap #our house

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cinnaminsvga · 5 years

Text

fox rain | one

→ summary: When the love letter you wrote and submitted as an assignment is leaked to the entirety of your university, it becomes a race against time to dispel rumours and convince the seven suspected muses of the poem that they aren’t the subject before anyone realises that you are the author. Easy, right? Well… maybe not as easy as you think.

→ pairing: bts x reader (feat. seokjin) → genre: college!au, crack, fluff, angst → warnings: none unless you count overly graphic descriptions of how stupid seokjin is (i’m sorry for always making him so dumb) → words: 10.4K → a/n: i know i say this a lot, but this literally the STUPIDEST thing i’ve ever written in my life. i’ve lost maybe ten braincells per word in this fic, and i’m proud of it gdi!! some of my best jokes are in this mess, and that’s saying a lot considering my whole life is a joke. also: check bio for the chapter links for now!

— • masterlist | prev | one | next • —

When you feel yourself awakening, for a moment, you think you might have been hungover. The usual disembodiment you feel after a night out of drinking is what greets you when the last dredges of sleep start to fade out of your periphery, added with the insatiable urge to piss the equivalent of the volume of the Atlantic Ocean. There are weights over your eyes, you surmise, because there is no way you will be able to open them long enough to see whether you were actually dead.

But of course, you are still subjected to the curse of human curiosity, which allows you to gather enough strength to squint blearily and access your current surroundings.

You are greeted by the sight of unfamiliar overhead lights and sterile white walls. The window just to your left shows the darkened sky, the moon creeping just behind the evergreen trees. Groaning slightly, you push yourself into a sitting position, a sudden wave of vertigo slamming into you like a supernova. As you survey the room some more, you notice the sound of muffled conversation going on behind the nearby sheer curtain, and the smell of antiseptic wafts its way into your nostrils. You’re in the nurse’s office, you realize belatedly, grasping the threadbare sheets of your university’s barebones version of a hospital bed.

You put your head into your hands, breathing deeply as you try to remember the last thing that happened to you.

Yoongi’s dick. The stupid e-mail. The poem. The conspiracy group. Seokjin on a pedestal giving a TedTalk about himself. Yoongi’s dick. Namboob. Fainting in the utility closet. Yoongi’s dick.

The mental gymnastics that your brain is currently undergoing elicits a sound akin to a dying squirrel from your open mouth, and it must have sounded terribly loud and unnerving because the nurse bursts into the room just a few seconds after. The nurse, who must have been an underpaid med student by the looks of the designer purple handbags decorating her sullen cheeks, looks at you with less genuine concern and more acute abhorrence.

In your drowsiness, you don’t realize that your throat had somehow converted into the Sahara desert when you had fainted, so you are just as surprised as the nurse when you start doing a wonderful impersonation of Sadako instead.

“Hoo bwat meh hey?” you articulate, your tongue feeling like an oversized fist trying to work its way from out of your larynx. At the very least, no one can blame you for not trying your best to sound coherent. Seeing your struggle, the apathetic nurse has the decency to reach behind one of the shelves and hand you a cup of water. You grab it from her, gulping the entire thing in one go all while you proceed to not care about the rivulets of water and drool trailing down your chin and onto your crotch.

“Sorry,” you say, not really knowing why you were apologizing in the first place. Perhaps for existing? “I was trying to ask who brought me here.”

The nurse, unsurprisingly, only gives you an indifferent shrug of her shoulders. “I don’t know. Some gray-haired twink came in with you on his back. Apparently, you fainted in front of him for no reason, and when we checked your vitals, everything seemed to be fine.” She gestures at your ragged form, almost as if she didn’t believe that they hadn’t found anything wrong with you. You are obliged to share her sentiments.

“You’re free to leave whenever you want. Just make sure to sleep more and eat. University is tough on kids like you,” she says, turning to leave without another look in your direction. Somehow, you feel insulted even though the nurse hadn’t really done anything to you. Perhaps her lack of concern for your mental wellness and the fact that your newly acquired PTSD after today’s events only warranted “a good night’s sleep” as a form of treatment. Ah, the woes of having zero healthcare. Regardless, you decide to take her up on her advice and head home in hopes of acquiring some semblance of sleep after today’s traumatic episode.

Exiting the clinic, you find that almost no one is left on campus, save for the occasional student on their way to their evening classes. Being at your university during the evening had always been an odd sensation for you, as it reminds you of all the nighttime finals you have had to take in the past. Whenever the sun set and darkness enveloped the campus, it is always a given that you would be able to hear someone shouting obscenities from somewhere in the distance, especially since your university is well-known for the bars and clubs that litter its outskirts. Nonetheless, you hopelessly pray that you won’t pass by any drunk college kids, especially on this Friday night.

Just as you are about to cross the street to get to your bus stop, you notice a familiar face waiting by the entrance of the clinic. You backtrack, staring at the back of her head as she inconspicuously tries to peer into the curtained windows like some sort of pervert. Knowing her, your assumption probably isn’t that far off.

You approach her quietly, carrying your footsteps so that she doesn’t hear you until you place your mouth just beside her ear. Even at this proximity, she is none the wiser to your presence. You blow gently against her neck, whispering, “Sera. What the hell are you doing?”

As expected, she shrieks at you in surprise, almost landing a karate-chop on your face but you are saved by the fact that she had as much hand-eye coordination as a dead man in a coffin. You step back as you watch her slice through the air for another few seconds, her gaze wild before they finally land on your smirking face. Realizing that she had overreacted, she straightens up in a huff, glaring at you with as much annoyance as she can muster (but really, who can stay angry at your cute face for long?)

“Trying to look for that hot doctor again?” You joke, peering inquisitively at her hunched form. You wouldn’t be surprised to find a pair of binoculars behind her back at this point, given by how many times you’ve caught her “observing” potential boyfriends.

“How dare––!” She splutters, ears turning red from your accusation. When she shifts slightly, you notice a black object passing through her hands and trying to covertly slip into her bag. Ah. The binoculars.

“How dare I what? Accuse you of stalking a poor med student who is probably overdosing on Adderall as we speak? Oh, sorry for overstepping my boundaries,” you drawl, grinning at her affronted expression. “Unless, of course, you happened to hear about me fainting this afternoon and you wanted to offer me a ride home? Since you’re such a good friend, after all?

She looks at you, alarmed. “You fainted? When? How?”

“Oh, so now you’re concerned. I could’ve died with the image of Min Yoongi’s penis tattooed under the backs of my eyelids, and my best friend never would’ve known… Who, then, would avenge me and clear my name? Who, then, would take care of my growing collection of scantily clad women figurines––?”

“Did you just say you saw Min Yoongi’s penis? Holy shit!” Sera shrieks, eyes bugging out of their sockets. You are sure everyone within a 5 mile radius must’ve heard her, but you didn’t even have the energy to be mortified. Death always did sound like a great vacation idea, anyway.

“Sure, just scream it out for everyone to hear. Maybe we can get him to come back and do it again so you won’t think I’m crazy,” you mutter, grabbing Sera by the sleeve and tugging her towards the parking lot. “You brought your car, right? Bring me home.”

“Jeez, you drop this major bomb on me as if you were just talking about your cat taking a shit on your bed or something, and now you’re ordering me to bring you home? Cheeky,” Sera huffs, but she lets you drag her regardless.

Luckily, her car is parked relatively close because you honestly don’t know how much longer you can take before your knees give out from under you. It seems that despite the little nap you had at the nurse’s clinic, you hardly feel refreshed at all. All you want is to pass out on your comfortable bed for an indefinite period of time and pray for the demon under your bed to drag you to its depths and skin you alive. Knowing your luck, even the demon wouldn’t be that merciful towards a gremlin like yourself.

Sera begins backing up the car, stealing looks at you as you slowly became one with the car seat. You clench your eyelids shut, hoping that Sera would have the decency to respect your space for now and save the questioning for later. That pipe dream is immediately dashed, however, when she starts speeding down the empty streets and opens her big fucking mouth, her shrill voice reverberating in the small sedan.

“Don’t you dare sleep on me now, young miss! You have an entire weekend to hibernate so crank up that brain of yours for two more minutes and tell me what the fuck happened,” she says, nearly crashing over a trash bin in her haste to interrogate you.

“My brain? What’s that? Pretty sure that old thing disintegrated months ago. I think I shat it out when we had Taco Tuesday that one time in November,” you say, missing the way she snorts back in response. When Sera pinches your side to force you to face forward, your fatigue addled consciousness doesn’t even register the pain until a few seconds later.

“Ow,” you whine lamely.

“That literally took you five seconds to react,” Sera whistles, running over a child’s bike in the process. Neither of you look back to check the damage. “Damn, Min Yoongi’s penis must’ve been hella impressive if you’re this mindfucked. Are the rumors true? He must be packing down there, am I right?”

“Please stop saying the word penis. I’m getting triggered again,” you groan, slapping her lightly. She guffaws loudly, shoulders shaking at your misery.

“Sorry, can’t help being a horny bastard. But seriously, what’s the context? I wasn’t even aware you still talked to him after first year. He was your RA at your freshman dorm, right?”

“I don’t talk to him,” you say. You fidget in your seat, hands twisting and turning on your lap. “I mean. We were never close or anything.”

“Then care to explain how you managed to stand in the presence of Min Yoongi junior and behold his glory? Were you guys about to fuck before you realized his penis probably isn’t going to fit? Or, holy shit… Is he actually fun-sized like the rest of his body is?”

“Shut the fuck up, Sera.”

“Oh my god, he’s totally fun-sized!” She gasps, snatching up her phone while you two waited at a stoplight. “Wait ‘til Cassandra hears about this––”

Despite your diminished motor skills, you manage to grab her phone away from her before she can spread any misinformation to the rest of the student body. Min Yoongi’s penis is his business, and consequently, it seems to have become your business as well. Cue existential dread.

“Will you shut up for two seconds and let me explain? No, he is not fun-sized. I will not divulge any more information regarding that subject,” you say. Sera deflates noticeably beside you. “And no, we were not about to fuck. I just happened upon him while he was… in the midst of some recreational activities.”

“Oh, he’s into that type of shit. Understandable,” Sera nods, sagely. You have no idea what her tone might be implying, but honestly at that point you were too scared to ask. “How’d you find him like that, then? Did you hear him tugging his meat and decide to join in? Because honestly, big mood.”

“No!” you exclaim hotly, slapping her once again. “I’m not like your perverted ass! I was just––” You halt in the middle of your sentence, recollections of the past hours swimming through your mind and the fear and anxiety that had taken over you this afternoon starts to consume you once more.

“Hey, you alright? You got pale all of a sudden,” Sera notes, slowing down in her driving as she makes her way to park in front of your apartment. The two of you can see the lights of your crotchety landlord’s living room are still on, and you hope to God that he isn’t peering outside his windows and preparing to call the police on your friend (again).

“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just,” you sigh, staring ahead of you and into the empty street. You don’t know why you’re hesitant to tell her what had happened earlier today. Normally, you would be exploding at the seams right now, weeping in despair at the sorry state of your existence. Then again, you’re not sure if you’re ready to go through the agony of reexperiencing the worst 12 hours of your life. Also, you just wanted to go pass out in your bed and never wake up.

In the end, you decide to tell her. Maybe she could offer a comforting shoulder to cry on. “Okay, so don’t laugh but… You remember the poem that got posted on the CCU Love Letters Facebook page this morning?”

Sera nods, confused. “Yeah? What about it?”

You take a deep breath, feeling your palms begin to sweat as hot licks of shame run down your back. You whisper, “Well. Yeah. I’m the author.”

There is a tangible silence inside the car. You’re afraid to look at Sera, dreading what sort of expression might appear on her face. Disdain? Pity? Mirth? Whatever it is, her quietness makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up in alarm. You’re about to book it out of her car and make some shitty excuse about needing to feed your goldfish when you hear the locks of the cardoors click shut. You whip your head towards her, eyes widening when you saw the smug look on her face.

Not a good sign. At all.

“Do my ears deceive me? Is Miss ‘i’m-never-going-to-date-because-romance-is-dead’ Y/N really the author of the sweetest and most romantic poem of the century?” she singsongs, her smirk growing with each word that leaves her lips.

“Who ever said I was against romance?” You retort, cheeks flushing so hotly that you’re sure there is steam coming out of your ears. Sera cackles loudly, slamming her hand so hard into the car horn that it causes one of the wandering cats to jump up high into the air. You are half concerned when you don’t see the poor cat come back down.

“Oh please! When was the last time you dated anyone? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you date anyone the entire time we’ve known each other!”

“We met in freshman year. You didn’t know how I was in high school,” you pout, huffing crossly. “And besides. I write romantic poems sometimes. You’ve read my blog posts.”

“Yeah, I know but,” Sera giggles once more, switching her phone on to search for something. When she finds what she is looking for, her eyes light up as she shows you the damned poem that got you into this mess in the first place. “You literally wrote ‘how wonderful is it to find that the dips in your hands look awfully lonely without mine in them?’ and you’re telling me that you wrote that?”

You push the phone away, groaning into your hands when you happen to glance at the number of likes on the post. “Fucking 2000 likes? Really? I’m gonna commit seppuku with your 13-inch dildo, I swear.”

As you let yourself descend into madness once more, you feel Sera’s hand pat your back comfortingly, though you can still hear her stifled giggles. “Okay. To be honest, I kind of knew it was you. No one else can write sappy lovesick bullshit like that and be sincere about it. Who the fuck compares skin to moonlight anymore? Are we in the 16th century?”

“You just said you didn’t believe that I’d write it,” you say. “I need people to not think it’s me. It’s so embarrassing as it is!”

“Don’t worry, I don’t think people are gonna think it’s you. There are a bunch of people in our Creative Writing class. It could be anyone,” Sera says, pinching your cheek lightly.

“You really think so?”

“Yeah, probably.” Sera hums, her thumbs flying on the screen of her phone. She pauses, chuckling lightly at something. “Though, I must say. You’re incredibly lucky. If you had used your actual e-mail address instead of your… burner one, you would have been found out immediately.”

“Little victories,” you say, wondering if the prepubescent version of yourself would have known that creating [email protected] would eventually save your life 10 years later in the future. Probably not, but you’ll take it all the same. “Will you unlock the doors now, please? I’m gonna sleep the trauma away and hopefully not be alive by Monday, but if I am… then I guess I’ll see you on Tuesday.”

“Hold on sister,” she says, restraining you back into your seat with her arm. You cough in surprise, shooting a glare back her way as she keeps you away from your bed longer than you would already like. “If you’re the author of the poem… Then can you tell me who the muse of the poem is? And more importantly, is it someone I know?”

Judging by the salacious look on her face, you know it would be a bad idea telling her. Not that you wouldn’t trust Sera with your life, but––actually, you really would not trust her with anything. Now that you think about it, telling Sera would be the equivalent of giving Kim Seokjin full access to your internet search history, and you have enough brain cells in your inventory to know that some things are worse than death.

“Ugh, can we just drop the subject, please? I really don’t want to have an aneurysm inside your car right now. I can see Mr. Park staring at us through his living room window and we both know you can’t afford bail for the third time this year.”

“Oh shit, you’re right,” she sighs, relinquishing her hold on you and allowing you to unlock the door. “But that doesn’t mean I’m letting this go! You’re telling me everything when we see each other on Tuesday, understand?”

“I’d rather die, thanks!” You call out, slamming the door shut. “And besides, I’m gonna try to kill the rumors as quickly as possible before someone figures it out.”

“How are you gonna do that? Don’t tell me you’re going to go to each of the guys and explain? Maybe tell them it’s a misunderstanding?” Sera asks, watching you curiously. The very thought of doing that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand at attention. You gaze downwards at the wet pavement, the feeling of impending doom rapidly becoming familiar.

"That would mean outing myself as the author, so that's definitely a hard pass."

"Suit yourself." Sera shrugs, already beginning to pull away from the driveway. She waves lazily at you, before driving away into the night. You stand outside for a moment longer, sighing deeply as you resign yourself to your new life filled with tomfoolery and bullshittery.

At the very least, there is no where to go but up, right?

[Life Lesson #1: It's important never to test fate with foolish declarations of optimism such as this. It only tempts whatever sadistic force that controls your pathetic human life to do their worst. So of course, it gets worse.]

To your credit, you don't spend your entire weekend wallowing in self-pity and despairing at your current situation. You only spend maybe 90% of it doing just that. The other 10% is used to plan your next plan of action.

Like an idiot, you fill yourself with too much misplaced confidence and Flamin' Hot Cheetos. You think to yourself, "Man! I have the whole weekend to think of something to do! Surely my brain will be able to make some sort of plan by the time Monday comes!"

It is a wonder that you are still somehow standing, in a state that some might say resembles being "alive," with how bad your forward thinking is. As it turns out, the weekend slips past you before you know it, with no more than a seedling of a plan than you did during the peak of your mental breakdown.

Suffice to say, you're in deep shit.

Monday comes just as surely as the sun rises from the east, which is to say that time continues to pass despite how much you'd be willing to pay for it to stop. You could live with one kidney, right? (Fate is probably more of a vegan, you surmise.)

Even when the world is ending all around you, it seems that your 8AM music composition class will wait for no one. And so, there you are: dragging your feet to what is usually one of your favorite classes, but with the added bonus of death clinging to your elbows. Perhaps your cosplay of a corpse is a bit too convincing, because most passersby are quick to step around you. Honestly, this is probably for the best, as you aren't sure what type of state your human compassion is at the moment, should someone dare disturb your "peace."

But of course, there is always that one idiot who manages to ruin your day––for the sole reason that he exists, much to your disappointment and chagrin. Hell, even his voice is enough to make your hairs bristle from just how he lilts his words ever so slightly. It is an absolute shame that the shortest route to your class is past his hair salon, so you can only imagine the speed at which your blood pressure rises when you hear him say––

“Miss Park, your split ends! Oh my word, Miss Park! Whatever shall we do but snip, snip, snip all those wretches out of your life, just like how I snip up all my haters! Aha, this is your cue to laugh by the way!” Kim Seokjin guffaws, his stupid voice unable to be muted by ten inches of concrete. Through the hair salon’s windowpane, you can see Seokjin’s hands make quick work of an elderly woman’s hair, his eyes in crescent moons with how loud he laughs. You mentally make a sign of the cross for the disaster that will soon befall that poor woman’s head.

Now, normally you would make haste to your class, with head bowed and shoulders hunched in hopes of that fool-mouthed ninny from seeing you and engaging in some of his usual buffoonery. For whatever brain cells he lacked, Seokjin always seems to have the ability to rope you into his many harebrained discussions, with topics ranging from “how often do you think people think of sleeping with me?” to “do you think if plants could dream, would they dream of sleeping with me?”

You know. The works.

As it is, today is not an ordinary day, and encountering Seokjin has only made you recall the distressing events from Friday. From your panic induced haze, you can only remember murky images of him holding court amongst a crowd of people, telling them how he must be the muse of your damned poem. The faint memory fills you with abject horror as you are reminded, not for the first time, how big his terribly well-sculpted mouth can be and how he will stop at nothing to make sure that everyone believes what he wants. (Despite how horrendous he is as an organism of this earth, you would be a fool to call his looks anything but mediocre. But that’s as far as anything worth praising concerns the likes of him.)

Something takes over you in that moment, something animalistic. As if your dumb monkey brain is going “hoo hoo eek eek… must… eliminate… AWOOGA… BIG THREAT…” and your sensible and empathetic sides are consequently forced to lie dormant in the meantime.

Hence how you find yourself bursting through Spick and Spock Hair Salon, with no plan whatsoever. All you can think of is Seokjin hanging from his balls on the school’s flagpole, and honestly you weren’t all that concerned with how Point A was going to reach Point B(alls). But we’ll deal with that later.

“What was that?” Miss Park hums, her hearing aid somewhat short-circuited with the sensory abuse it has already had to undergo. To Seokjin’s credit, his hands do not falter despite your loud entrance; however, that could mostly be explained by how much louder his own voice is in comparison, but that’s just your humble onion.

“––and basically, Miss Park, there is this poor soul out there who must be dying with embarrassment because their love poem has been exposed to the world without their consent! Now, I may be Aphrodite incarnate, but I am also a gentleman, and so I do not condone force of any kind,” Seokjin drawls, incognizant of the world around him. He continues to apply the perm solution on Miss Park’s curls, the precision at how he works almost impressive if not for the fact that he was entirely abhorrent.

“That’s nice, Jinnie, but will you please shut up? I’m two steps away from turning off my hearing aid, you know,” Miss Park says cheerily.

“STOP WHERE YOU ARE, KIM SEOKJIN! STOP FEEDING LIES TO THE ELDERLY!” You cry, filled with the same type of distress that a young peasant might feel from their first licks of capitalism. Seokjin, the wicked businessman in this terrible analogy, is the one selling his counterfeit goods to the unsuspecting innocent.

Miss Park gasps, turning to Seokjin with betrayal in her eyes. “Oh, I knew it! My perm does make me look older! Just give me the pink highlights like I told you, Jinnie. I saw the youngsters doing it on Facebook,” she says.

Seokjin turns his head towards you in slow-motion, like an ass, and even takes the care to flick his beautifully styled bangs away from his forehead so he can gaze upon you with faux interest. “Oh? Miss Y/N? In my salon? I knew you’d be back here soon enough, especially with those roots… Come, take a seat. Let me bump your sorry 2/10 looking ass to a 2.5/10 at least.”

“If it were not for the laws of this land,” you seethe, cursing him through gritted teeth. You stalk towards him, rolling up your sleeves to show that you mean Business. (Funnily enough, you were wearing a tank top that day.) “I can’t believe you’re even being considered a suspect of the poem’s muse in the first place!”

Seokjin fakes a contemplative look. “Isn’t it because of my moon-like radiance? People have told me that I glow like a newborn babe.”

“You sure have the brains of one,” you retort.

“I heard from my niece that it was because he was an extra in a play as a moon or something,” Miss Park quips helpfully. Seokjin makes an affronted noise, but does not reject her claim.

“You were, like, a prop?” You snicker, forgetting for a moment what you were doing. You watch with wicked fascination as his ears turn red.

“Everyone has to start from somewhere! And so what? I had to hang ten feet in the air with a wedgie the entire time! My battle scars are what make me stronger.” He sniffs, upturned nose and all. You and Miss Park snort, not at all inconspicuously.

He pours the remainder of the solution all over Miss Park’s head and slaps her not-too gently on the back, clasping his hands together gleefully. “Well! That should do the trick. Relax, Miss Park, and let the chemicals do all the talking or whatever.” You take mental note to never come back to his establishment ever again so long as you live.

“Ma’am, if you’d like to save yourself from listening to the avalanche of anger that I’m about to unleash, I would suggest turning off your hearing aid for a moment,” you say.

She shrugs her shoulders, reclining further into her seat and resting her legs on a nearby bench. “Sure. YOLO, as the kids say.”

At her consent, you promptly slap the hearing aid out of her ear so you can scream at Seokjin in relative privacy. Miss Park doesn’t even seem to notice, and this should’ve been an indicator of how fucked up Seokjin’s salon is if she didn’t even seem slightly shocked by your actions. (How could she, when Seokjin literally just dumped fucking chemicals all over her scalp? Isn’t that illegal?)

“I’m going to sensibly reason with you first,” you scream and jab at his chest, being unreasonable.

“Okay, sounds believable,” Seokjin replies, raising a brow. He gestures for you to follow him to where the cashier is supposed to be, except that it is so early in the morning that the other employee that works with him isn’t even in at the moment. You still have yet to know why Seokjin opens the shop at 8AM in the first place.

“Why the hell are you spreading misinformation to random people like that? You know damn well that the poem isn’t about you,” you huff, crossing your arms. Seokjin, the ever-loving twat that he is, matches your pose to mock you. He even juts out his hip the way that you do.

“Of course it’s about me! How could it not be about me? Did you not read the part about how the author looks at the moon and thinks about my skin? Everyone knows that Etude House is dying to have me as their face mask model!”

The prickling urge to strangle him strengthens. “Listen,” you say, teeth gnashing from the effort of keeping yourself from leaping and ending it all. “For once in your life, is it really that hard to believe that the world doesn’t revolve around you?”

“Oh, you’re one of those heliocentric believers? Jincentric is where it’s at, Miss Y/N!” He laughs, slapping his knee at the pure hilarity of his joke. He does not pause once at your disdainful visage.

“Fine! Believe what you want! But I need you to stop telling everyone that you’re the muse of that poem. The rumor won’t die if you keep stoking the flame with your inflamed ego.”

Seokjin ponders your words for a second, looking at you with a contemplative stare. He does not speak for so long that you’re almost willing to let yourself hope that he has acquiesced, until––”When have you ever done anything for me?”

You gape at his sudden accusation. “Excuse me? I’ve done a lot for you!”

“Like?”

You pause, racking your brain. “Uh. I haven’t killed you?”

“Fair,” he nods, stroking his chin. “But that won’t be enough to stop me. I love being admired, so fuck you for even assuming that I would stop talking about myself. However, I’ll do it for a price.”

“Price?” You groan, fixing him with a glare. “You know damn well that I’m poor, but name it and I’ll try to pay it as soon as you can.”

Seokjin grins, his pearly whites much too incandescent with how dark his soul is. “Invest in my JiHope t-shirt business. I need, like, $500 left to reach the first goal of my kickstarter.”

You stare at him, completely baffled. Is this dude for real, or is he just a caricature turned to life? “You’re a heathen, do you know that?” you say, disgust oozing from every orifice of your body.

“I am feeling quite heathen-ish today, thanks for noticing,” he replies, somber. “Does that mean you accept my proposal?”

You hate how his voice sounds even the slightest bit optimistic, because that means he really does think you’re as stupid as he is. “Can you be serious for once? And before you say it, don’t fucking pull a dad joke on me and say some shit like ‘how can I be serious if I’m Jin?’ because I will not hesitate to bite two inches off your dick.”

“That would still leave 13-inches, so to be honest I should be thanking you.” He shrugs his shoulders, unashamed of existing in this day and age. “And no, I can’t be serious. It goes against my brand.”

“Your brand of being a fucking menace to society?” you grouse.

“Exactly.”

You are seriously ready to explode, and it isn’t going to be pretty. Lord knows that Seokjin would hate having your guts splattered on his overpriced Gucci slides. “Please, can you just stop talking about the poem? It’s bad enough that the original post is getting hundreds of likes by the hour, and if I know one thing, it’s probably mostly from your own influence.”

With a hundred thousand followers under his belt, it probably isn’t that much of a stretch. As much as he is the spawn of Satan, he is rather popular among your peers. Not that popularity has ever been a good measure of compassion. Case in point:

Seokjin grins, misleadingly angelic. “Aw, are you calling me an influencer? That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“You’re insufferable!” you yell, glowering at the overly-smug theatre student. You stomp your foot on the ground, pointing a finger in his direction as your nostrils flare in annoyance. Like hell that you’re going to let this shithead make you his bitch! “If you’re not going to do as I say, then I’m going to pester you throughout your entire shift and follow you to class if I have to!”

Big words from such a weak-willed person such as yourself. It does not take you long to realize how fatal of a mistake it is to make such a promise, because you never really stopped to think about the actual logistics of such a stunt (i.e. having to be around Seokjin for longer than your recommended daily dose). You can only imagine what such an experience would entail.

After a 3-hours of watching a buffoon salvaging humanity’s hair-do’s and don’ts (his words not yours), you feel as if his very demonic energy was sucking your life force with a curly straw. You fear that when you close your eyes tonight, you will be haunted by images of his Pacific-wide shoulders and his head tilted back in maniacal laughter as he snips away with less care than a toddler. Well, at least that’s what he appears to be doing, because occasionally you will zone out but then return to the sight of a fairly satisfied customer with glossy looking locks, so perhaps he isn’t as inept as you had imagined.

Your amazement is short-lived, however, when he opens his mouth and the cycle begins anew.

After finishing his last client for the morning, he makes his way to his first class of the day. You are reminded of the fact that you are missing your own morning classes as a result, but you know that you cannot afford to let him off your sight, lest he make a bigger fool of himself (and consequently, make your life a bigger hell than it already is).

You trudge behind him, ensuring that he never strays further than three feet away from you. It’s pretty easy to keep up with him, due to the fact that he always makes a point to pause whenever he sees his own reflection (in windows, shiny surfaces, some poor boy’s bicycle helmet––his narcissism knows no bounds.)

When he finally makes a full stop outside one of the lecture halls, he intentionally sidesteps in front of you. The suddenness of it causes you to bump against his steely back, bruising your nose enough to make you yelp in pain. You’re just about to cuss him out when he turns to face you, uncharacteristically serious.

“Now Y/N, I need you to stay out here in the corridor like a good girl, okay? There’s a strict rule of having no pets allowed,” he coos, making the fatal mistake of trying to stroke your head. He shrieks when your teeth meets his palm, but you are unrepentant.

When you let go, he tries to appear unfazed, blowing you a kiss instead as he saunters off into the lecture hall. Not wanting to disturb the class anyway, you decide to heed his words and squat outside in the hallway, occasionally looking through the small window to glare menacingly at the pink-haired bastard. Despite the holes you wish you were burning into the back of his skull, he remains aloof to your imaginary death ray as he continues to take studious notes of whatever his professor is saying.

On the other hand, his classmates are a different story. They send each other wary looks, wondering why the hell this random person was doing a Jack Torrance impression. When the clock strikes, they all make a beeline for the exit, clearly avoiding looking you in the eye as they speedwalk to their next classes. Seokjin makes it out last, his gait the picture of perfect nonchalance. He has the audacity to look surprised to see you there, like you were an old friend he had not expected to meet until you both reached the pearly gates (or fiery pits, but that’s unimportant right now).

“You’re still here, Miss Golum? Have you been good? I’m honestly surprised that you are as stubborn as I am.” He whistles lowly, shouldering his backpack with a smirk. He walks down the hall towards the exit, not checking to see if you were keeping up or not.

You proceed to bite his penis in half to keep him in place. Okay, not really, but you know… one can dream.

What you actually do is follow him as he heads to the cafeteria, presumably to sustain the mortal body he has chosen to possess. It takes him an agonizing thirty minutes to decide what he wants to eat for lunch, and another thirty minutes to say his extensive list of food products that he will most likely be consuming within the next hour or so. You’ve never seen a fast food worker look so dead before, and you’re sure the poor college student behind the counter had zoned out after Seokjin ordered his tenth happy meal.

As the two of you stand to the side to wait for his order, he turns to you expectantly. “So,” he begins.

“Fa,” you retort, followed by a gasp of shock from the elder.

“Do my ears deceive me? Your first dad joke… And to think, all it took was for you to hang out with me for four hours to initiate you as an apprentice.” He weeps loudly, faking tears in an impressively short amount of time. That doesn’t stop you from kicking him in the shin, though.

“Don’t worry, I’m already dead inside. There’s no soul left for you to consume,” you reply dryly. He tuts, shaking his head.

“Before I was so rudely interrupted, I was just about to ask… As much as I have enjoyed our quality bonding time together––”

“I’ll gladly piss on your grave, don’t forget,” you interject.

“––I was wondering why you’re so adamant to dispel the rumors about the poem? You don’t seem like the type to engage in campus gossip.”

Oh shit. Perhaps there is something more than hot air in that tiny head of his.

You flounder about like a fish for a bit, your mouth opening and closing as you think of an explanation that wouldn’t out yourself in the process. You feel your cheeks reddening, only two seconds away from steam whistling out of your eardrums. Broken stammers are all you can manage as he waits expectantly, but luckily, you don’t have to think of a response when a nearby commotion forces the two of you to back away from each other.

A gaggle of freshmen storm through from out of nowhere, forcing the both of you to be swept away as they all made their way towards a pop-up stand in the middle of the court. Accustomed to the borderline cringey overexcitement of the youngest students in the university, you are quick to dismiss their behavior and decide to search for Seokjin, until you hear one of the little freshmen say something that catches your attention.

"You think the t-shirts are still available? Chaeyeon said the hoodies sold out this morning, so I'm scared that we'll be too late," a young girl says, her hands clutched to her chest as she tries to tiptoe over the crowd to survey the state of the merchants just up ahead.

Her friend pats her back assuringly. "Don't worry. The announcement on the page said they're bringing in the reserve stocks from the backroom, which is probably why everyone's here. We just have to get there first." They proceed to elbow their way through the throng of people, and completely disappear from your view. Where they stood, more people soon took their place until a sizeable swarm has taken over half the area of the floor.

Now, this exchange isn't necessarily a red flag to most people, since many clubs and organizations at your university often sold different types of goods to raise funds for their projects. However, given the circumstances that you have become entrenched in the last few days, you can never be too cautious of innocent utterances such as this.

You take a few steps back, trying your best to see over the heads of the crowd that is steadily growing larger. After a few minutes of fruitless attempts to squeeze through sweaty pits and cacophonous teenagers, you are ready to just give up and let it go when the same pair of girls from earlier exit from the side, with numerous folded up shirts in their arms.

You hasten towards them, barely being able to latch onto their shoulders to stop them from escaping. The shorter of the girls squeals in surprise, dropping her prized possessions onto the floor. She turns to you, anger ready to burst forth from her tongue when she looks you in the face. She softens almost immediately, wrath evaporating in the wind. Confused, you're just about to ask her if she knows you from somewhere when her friend cuts you to the chase.

"Oh my God! It's her!" she squeals, reaching for your hand and shaking it so vigorously that you swear you hear your shoulder bones pop out of its socket. The girl who had dropped her shirts just continues to stare at you in awe, her mouth agape as she remains speechless, apparently from your presence alone.

You feel the dread begin to build in the pits of your stomach. "It's me?" you say, pointing to yourself with your free hand.

"Yes! Miss Y/N, you have no idea how happy I am to meet you! We are big fans of your work on the CCU Pen Blog! Your short story about the talking brick wall honestly brought me to tears," she gasps out, eyes twinkling with unrestrained reverence. Judging from the death grip she has on your hand, you can certainly say that this girl isn't lying.

While you are aware of the small following that you've accumulated over the past two years as one of the top contributors in your university's open writing forum, that isn't to say that you have ever met a fan as fervent as the two before you. Still on edge from everything that has been going on, you still can't let your guard down around them.

After a bit of effort on your part, you are finally able to pry yourself away from the girl's tight hold. Coughing lightly into your abused fist, you fix them with a wary glance. They return it with unnervingly excited stares of their own.

"Um. Thank you very much, ladies. I just wanted to ask you about the function going on over there?" you ask, pointing over at the still bustling shop booth. At your query, the girls actually look confused, as if you are the weird one in this interaction.

"You don't know? I thought you of all people should know about the merch sale happening right now," the quieter girl speaks up, bewildered. She bends down to pick up the shirts she had dropped, turning it over to show you the design that you had previously failed to notice. What a terrible mistake you have committed.

(Was the mistake looking at the t-shirt? Was it waking up today? Was it deciding to live after your mother conceived you in the womb? Truly, where does the blame game truly end in this foul existence that you call your own?)

The scream that is elicited from your throat cannot be described as anything from this world, because you are sure everyone in the vicinity might have stopped breathing for a few seconds after hearing it. The macabre quality of your voice even caused the two girls in front of you to flee in fright, leaving you with the wretched t-shirt in your trembling palms.

There, printed on the t-shirt, right in front of your mortal eyes, is an image you would rather that you had not seen even if it meant having to suckle from Kim Seokjin's teets for all eternity.

In all its poorly printed glory, your face is plain as day. Anyone would be able to recognize that it was you: in the middle of chewing what appears to be a whole turkey leg.

There you were, with ketchup dripping down your cheek, sitting just outside the Fine Arts building as you scarfed down the poor piece of poultry because you had been too lazy to cut up into smaller, more refined chunks. Like the fucking caveman that you are, you had held the leg like a police baton, mouth open so wide that you'd think you might have unhinged your jaw to get the entire thing to fit in there.

You think that's all? It gets worse.

Somehow, the perpetrator of this terrible t-shirt just has to make you look even less attractive than humanly possible. Superimposed beside your sauce-stained self is none other than a PNG image of Jeon Jungkook in his prime. With his sleek black hair pushed back to reveal his forehead, you are sure that this photo is the same one that everyone on campus had swooned over just a few weeks prior, when he had been chosen to model in an advertisement for some club's fundraising event. He is the picture of quiet confidence, which might make you laugh on any other day, since the boy is anything but that in his day to day life. You only ever interact with him when you see him manning the front desk of the library, and he always has his head bowed over a book, unaware of the stares of his many admirers.

Clearly, the injustice of having a literal god beside your hulk-ish photo is downright cruel, but this optical torment does not stop there.

Underneath the photos of the two of you, there is a short line of text that is honestly the worst part of the entire thing. In bold, sans serif font, it reads “Y/NKOOK SUPPORTERS INITIATIVE” with a copious amount of black heart emojis tacked on. In a smaller, but similarly visible manner, it also reads “The Moon Poem is about them and I will stand on this rock until I die!” There are also numerous 100 and fire emojis scattered around the entire shirt.

It’s terrible. It’s downright despicable. It’s the worst thing to ever grace your vision, and that’s saying something, considering that you’ve met your fair share of delusional graphic designers.

Another scream rips from your throat––more livid, this time.

It is at that moment when you realize that maybe Thanos was right––maybe some people really do deserve to die for the betterment of civilization.

Perhaps the crowd of eagerly waiting customers can sense the heat from your unfathomable anger, because they quickly part like the Red Sea as you stomp over to the front of the lines where you will likely find the perpetrator of this heinous crime.

There is a young boy with droopy eyes standing by the tables of merchandise, his hands quickly counting wads of bills as he jams them haphazardly into his pink Hello Kitty fanny pack. He doesn't even bother looking up when you approach him, still busy with his profits, when you clear your throat to catch his attention.

"Are you the one in charge of this fucking circus?" You snarl, fists itching to come into contact with his cheeks. He hums disinterestedly, zipping up his gaudy fanny pack with a tired sigh.

"No, ma'am. I'm just the hired help," he drawls, turning away from you as he gestures vaguely at the mountains of goods still left for purchase. "Are you interested in something or what? There are still 30 people waiting to buy, so I'd rather you not back up the line please."

At the end of your patience, you admit that perhaps grabbing the poor boy by the collar might have been a bit drastic. Still, you're itching to know who the source of all this madness is, so you don't feel all that guilty when he makes a choking sound from your act of brute force. Despite your strong grip on his windpipe, his dead fish-eyes do not disappear. In fact, he looks exasperated more than anything.

"Listen lady, are you going to buy something or what? Who even the fuck are you?"

You splutter, staring incredulously at the younger. Who the fuck are you? You aren't the type to expect people to know who you are but you can at least expect that the person selling goods with your face on it would know who you are! Like, how the hell does he not know that you were the same person on the damned picket fans and keychains?

"I don't––what the hell––" you stammer, speechless for the first time in a while.

"OWO what's this? Is this a new campus couple shipping booth that just opened? Do you guys sell JiHope versions too?" Just in time to witness your second mental breakdown of the day, Seokjin makes his convenient re-entrance as he sidles up beside you. He has two burgers in hand, one of which he is halfway done eating.

You gape at him. "Did you buy a burger for me?"

Seokjin snorts, stuffing the entire remainder of the sandwich into his unfathomably large mouth. "No, you idiot. They’re both for me," he replies, with surprising coherency despite the dribbles of meat and bread product spilling onto his chin. You swear you can see him unhinge his jaw just the slightest bit.

He bends down to pick up one of the fallen pins from the floor, groaning at the sound of his back cracking. "Oh shit, that hurt!"

Unable to help yourself despite still having a freshman in a chokehold, you quip automatically "Yikes, that sounds like a couple of dinosaur bones creaking. You alright?"

Not missing a beat, Seokjin replies "Nah. I just can’t help having a bad back with how big my dick is."

The young boy taps you on the shoulder, reminding you once more of the situation you are in. "Can you let go? My shift is over so you can interrogate the next dude instead," he drawls, having the audacity to yawn at you.

Taking pity on him, you do as he asks. He straightens up, pulling his rumpled collar down before unclasping the fanny pack from around his waist. Another similarly dead-eyed young boy (who was incredibly tall, much to your chagrin––obnoxiously tall young men ALWAYS had agendas, take Seokjin for example) takes the bag from him. He gives you a short once over, no signs of recognition present in his expression at all. When he sees Seokjin, however, his reaction is a lot more than you expected.

"Oh my God, Seokjin? Holy shit, I'm a big fan!" The new boy gasps, pushing aside a customer in favor of reaching over to shake Seokjin's hand. Ever the slut for praise and appreciation, Seokjin shakes his hands with the ease of a seasoned politician.

"Aren't we all?" he laughs, haughty. The other boy laughs too, his eyes sparkling with unrestrained admiration. You sneer in disgust at the hearts visibly emanating from his body.

"My name is Soobin, and I just love your performance in last week's production at the Campus Theatre! Would you mind signing my assh––"

"Hold on," you interrupt, glaring daggers at Seokjin. "Did you fucking do this? Did you make this fucking merch booth of me and Jungkook?"

Seokjin frowns, annoyed that you had been impetuous enough to stop this spontaneous meet and greet session between him and his loyal fan. "No, of course not. Who even the fuck is Dungcock, or whatever the hell that dude's name is."

"You fucking dumb piece of shit––" you say, about to bite off his balls for real when your phone begins to ring, saving Seokjin for the time being. You recognize the ringtone to be the one you set for your alarms, and you realize that after all the commotion from this morning, you have forgotten about the tutoring session you are supposed to have with Hoseok today. Since you had cancelled last Friday's session after your spectacular psychotic meltdown, you know that you couldn't possibly skip this one as well.

Shutting your phone off, you groan, fixing Seokjin with your most solemn gaze. "Listen, I don't have a lot of time. I have to go tutor Hoseok soon, and I've already skipped all my classes today by trying to convince your imbecilic ass to be empathetic for once in your miserable life so I'm begging you for the last time––please stop spreading the rumors about the poem," you finish, tears welling up as you finally register the fatigue weighing down your bones. It's only Monday, and you can't wait for the sweet release of death.

Seokjin is silent the entire while. The merchandise boy, Soobin, has already left the two of you alone, becoming disinterested the moment you uttered the word "listen." You're breathing heavily, bracing yourself for the inevitable sound of his windshield wiper-esque laughter. To your complete and utter surprise, his mocking does not come.

Instead, he puts down his second burger, stuffing it inside his back pocket (presumably for safekeeping). He wipes his hands on his shirt, smearing ketchup sauce on it before levelling you with his gaze. He appears like he is about to acquiesce to your demands.

Is this it? Will you allow yourself to hope? Has Kim Seokjin actually developed compassion during the last 20 seconds of your heartfelt plea? Are you finally going to lay to rest the rumor that he does not actually have a second stomach where his heart should be?

Then, "Okay Y/N. I'll do it."

Hope rises just beyond the horizon.

He raises a finger, "But––"

And just like that, hope takes a pounding to the ass (lubelessly) and dies before it even has the chance to break past the peaks of your mountain of crushed dreams.

"––you have to admit that you're the author of the poem and then I'll stop exacerbating the rumors."

You can feel the demon living inside you just itching to climb its way out of your ass and circle its hands around Seokjin's larynx. Hell, you can't say you wouldn't do it yourself. "WHAT? NO!! THAT'S LITERALLY––I'M NOT EVEN––" you scream, shocked and enraged at the same time.

Seokjin rolls his eyes, placing his perfectly manicured hand on his hip. "Save it, babe. I know you're the author. As annoying and stupid as you are––"

"Hey!"

"––you've always been a pretty good writer and I would recognize your writing style anywhere. Not to say that I read your works religiously or anything, but I mean... I see your writing on the newspapers that I use to pick up my dog's shits, so I guess I read them sometimes," he says, not looking you in the eyes. The tips of his ears are turning red, but you hardly notice his embarrassment when you're more amazed that he even acknowledged your talent in the first place. You guys aren't even friends!

"Wow. I don't even know what to say."

"Just admit you're the author and we're good." Seokjin smirks, patting you lightly on the shoulder.

You frown. "Isn't that counterproductive? I want the rumors to stop, not for them to be related to me."

"Which is a sentiment that I cannot fathom at all, since I crave the attention." He sniffs, glowering at you. "You can imagine the sacrifice I am bestowing upon you by having to relinquish this newfound fame just so your little crush stays hidden."

"How benevolent of you," you deadpan.

"And since you didn't deny it, I'm assuming that you are the author after all. Besides, I just wanted you to tell me the truth, mostly so I can bully you for writing sickly sweet love poems about yours truly."

"Okay, I'll admit. I am the author. You got me," you grunt, rubbing your temples. "But there is no way in HELL that I wrote Moonlight Sonata for you. I'd rather eat my own intestines than write anything remotely flattering about you."

"That's what they all say," Seokjin says, sighing dreamily. "To be honest, I knew you were the author from the beginning and I just wanted to annoy you until you caved. I didn't think you would be that stressed over the stupid poem enough to follow me around for an entire day. That crush must be embarrassing, huh?"

"It's not!" you exclaim hotly. You clear your throat, forcing the blush around your cheeks to die down. "It's just... It was supposed to be private." Your voice breaks off into a whisper, vulnerability lacing your words.

It's true––the only reason you wanted all of this to be over was because it was never even supposed to have happened in the first place. Your words and stories were always open to the public eye. You gave and you gave and you gave, although that has never been a problem. You loved sharing your thoughts and feelings; it was one of the greatest things about being writer. You enjoyed hearing how people related to your experiences because it made you feel seen, it made you feel known. You were not alone in this journey, and that had made all the difference.

This time, however, you had preferred to go through this alone. Mostly because even you were not sure what it was that you were going through. How were you supposed to share this part of yourself with others when you did not even know what it was that you were feeling? You had poured every inch of your soul onto those pages, and to have yourself completely barren to the world like it was nothing––

That had been catastrophic to you. But at the end of the day, there was nothing you can do except to try and silence it.

Seokjin considers your sad form, watching you until a small secretive smile inches its way on his lips. You scowl, not liking the way he looks like he knows something that you don't.

"What are you smiling at?"

"Oh, nothing," Seokjin whistles, winking provokingly. He laughs obnoxiously, not faltering even when you kick him in the sin. "Just that I know you have a crush on me and you're just embarrassed to admit it. Thank God that I'm a great actor, so I guess I'll pretend for your sake."

"You're not my––" you start, before giving up mid-sentence. Was there truly any use to arguing with Seokjin? You'd rather not waste any more saliva than you already have. "Whatever. Believe what you want. All that matters is that you do what I asked you to do."

"Sure thing, Shakespeare," Seokjin scoffs, flicking you lightly on the forehead. "Also, in payment for my services, you are required to watch my next play AND attend at least three of my rehearsals and cheer for me every time I appear in a scene. I require a bouquet of flowers at every appearance."

You're about to argue, (fruitlessly, you might add), when a barrage of buzzes coming from your back pocket stops you in your tracks. You slip out your phone, and you see dozens of texts from a worried Hoseok asking where you are. You reply a quick "otw" to him before focusing back on Seokjin.

"Fine. Whatever. I'll fucking kill you the next time I see you, but... thank you. I know it's hard for you to be kind to anything other than your reflection." You take a deep breath, furrowing your brows. Saying thank you to a troglodyte is harder than it seems. "And thanks for reading my works. We're still not friends or anything, by the way. Hope you remember that."

"Wouldn't dream of forgetting," Seokjin chuckles. "Me? Friends with you? A 10 walking around with a negative 1? Fat chance." He waves goodbye, blowing you an obnoxiously loud kiss before stalking off away from you. The bulge of his smooshed burger has left an unsightly grease stain all over the back of his jeans.

Before you turn to go to the exit, you pass by Soobin who was still busy with customers. You slip a few bills into his pocket, tiptoeing to whisper into his ear. "Here's twenty bucks. Go kick Seokjin in the balls for me."

When the double doors slam behind you, the beautiful sound of Seokjin's pained howl bids you the cheery farewell that you deserve.

796 notes · View notes

maddie-grove · 5 years

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My Top Ten Georgian (Ish) Romance Novels

Notes: I’m doing a top ten instead of a top five for Georgian, Regency, and Victorian romance novels, because I’ve just read way too many good ones to stop at five! Also, I’m using Georgian to mean the years from 1714 (when George I became King of Great Britain and Ireland) to 1803 (when the Napoleonic Wars started). Once a romance novel’s set in 1803 or 1804, it starts to feel less like “French Revolution hangover” and more like “it’s almost the Regency.”

1. The Leopard Prince by Elizabeth Hoyt (2007)

Exact Setting: 1760s England.

Premise: Independently wealthy Lady Georgina Maitland doesn’t care to marry, instead preferring to collect fairy tales and look after her rural estate with the help of her steward, Harry Pye. Yet she feels drawn to Harry, who is quiet and gentle and very good at carving small animal figurines out of wood. Their budding romance is threatened, though, by the growing hostility of their community, Harry’s complicated family secrets, and, yes, a series of sinister sheep-murders.

Why I Like It: Sometimes, the sexiest thing a man can do is make an exquisite little wooden hedgehog with his own two hands. Harry is a wonderful hero, kind and unassuming and ready to throw down the second some evil nobleman threatens the poacher’s son. I am also very fond of Georgina, an absent-minded folklore aficionado after my own heart. The rural setting is delightfully spooky, and the plot pulls together a lot of moving parts in a very effective way.

Favorite Scene: Harry and Georgina are reunited after he’s kidnapped and nearly murdered by said evil nobleman.

2. To Seduce a Sinner by Elizabeth Hoyt (2008)

Exact Setting: 1760s England.

Premise: When Jasper Renshaw, Lord Vale, is jilted for the second time in one year, unassuming Melisande Fleming offers herself as a substitute bride. Although Jasper seems like an ordinary and rather dry man, Melisande has secretly loved him ever since she saw his extraordinary kindness in a private moment. Jasper accepts because it’s convenient, only to be pleasantly surprised by their chemistry. Their marriage is going well...except that his horrible experiences during the Seven Years’ War are coming back to haunt him, both psychologically and in the sense that somebody is trying to murder them.

Why I Like It: Jasper’s combination of dry humor and hidden tenderness is pretty irresistible, while Melisandre’s gradual overcoming of her near-pathological reserve and self-denial is very moving. The suspense plot is exciting and carries unexpected emotional weight, plus there’s a nice side-romance between Jasper’s tough valet and Melisande’s enterprising lady’s maid. Finally, the sex scenes are super-hot.

Favorite Scene: Melisande flashes back to the moment she fell in love with Jasper.

3. An Unlikely Countess by Jo Beverley (2011)

Exact Setting: 1760s England.

Premise: After doing a good turn for genteel but desperately poor Prudence Youlgrave, directionless Catesby “Cate” Burgoyne thinks he’ll never see her again. Then he inherits an earldom from his estranged older brother. Not eager to return to his difficult family, Cate stops by Prudence’s village on the way home, hoping to check on the stranger he so fondly remembers. When he finds that she’s on the verge of marrying a lecherous old man at her shitty brother’s insistence, he impulsively offers to marry her instead...forgetting to mention that he’s no longer a cash-strapped second son. Prudence is prepared to deal with financial woes, but is she ready to handle the duties of a countess, a semi-dysfunctional aristocratic family, and murder?

Why I Like It: It should be clear by now that I’m a sucker for stories about creepy English country houses, and this novel certainly delivers. Beverley also takes a great deal of care in establishing the personalities of Prudence and Cate outside of their relationship, making the romance between them especially potent. Their consideration for each other makes me like them a lot, and it’s also weirdly sexy.

Favorite Scene: Cate and Prudence have a quiet moment together after he saves her from ruffians.

4. Thief of Shadows by Elizabeth Hoyt (2012)

Exact Setting: 1730s England.

Premise: Widowed Isabel, Lady Beckinhall, may be jaded and a touch hedonistic, but she’s also very interested in the welfare of the St. Giles Home for Unfortunate Infants and Foundling Children. In order to do this, she’s willing to teach Winter Makepeace, the middle-class proprietor, some social graces so he can help with fundraising. Winter disagrees that he needs to develop his networking skills, plus he has other reasons for wanting to keep this improper yet intriguing lady at bay...reasons that may or may not involve a secret crime-fighting identity!

Why I Like It: The contrast between Isabel’s insouciance and Winter’s severity is a lot of fun; it’s not uncommon for a rakish hero to be paired with a buttoned-up heroine, yet the reverse is rare. He’s more softhearted and she’s more interested in being a good person than their exteriors would suggest, but those exteriors add a little spice. This novel is also one of the best adventure stories in the genre, with plenty of skulduggery and derring-do to go around.

Favorite Scene: Isabel discovers Winter’s secret identity (it’s sexy).

5. A Scandalous Countess by Jo Beverley (2012)

Exact Setting: 1760s England.

Premise: Georgia, Lady Maybury, used to be the darling of society...until her young husband died in a duel and rumors spread that she put his opponent up to it because she wanted to be with him instead. Now she’s out of mourning and trying to start anew, but someone has resurrected the old rumors. Prickly Humphrey, Lord Dracy, is willing to stand by her side, but could he have ulterior motives?

Why I Like It: Although I like the romance, the main appeal of this book is that it’s top-drawer melodrama starring a complex, charismatic heroine. There is no shortage of deliciously lurid nonsense, and Beverley builds a wonderfully constructed plot around it. I just luxuriated in the drama of it all the first time I read it. In addition, Georgia’s anguish over the loss of her husband (who was more of a best friend than a lover but still extremely important to her) and loneliness when she’s left behind by her friends gives the book a strong emotional core beneath the pulp. She also matures without having to flagellate herself for being high-spirited or making minor mistakes.

Favorite Scene: Georgia and Dracy try to solve her husband’s murder and deal with additional drama at a masquerade ball.

6. Heartless by Mary Balogh (1995)

Exact Setting: 1750s England.

Premise: Lucas Kendrick returns to London after years of exile to take over the dukedom he inherited from his estranged brother. He’s also looking for a bride and, instead of doing the expected thing and marrying beautiful debutante Lady Agnes Marlowe, he chooses her older sister Anna, who sacrificed her early youth to keep her family together through tough times. Charmed by Anna’s sweetness and maturity, he believes that this convenient marriage may turn out to be a love match as well. Unfortunately, Anna is being stalked by a traumatic past, both metaphorically and literally, that sows mistrusts between them and also puts them in physical danger. Plus, Lucas’s family relationships have to be sorted out and Anna’s deaf teenage sister needs to learn sign language! There’s a lot going on.

Why I Like It: In theory, I should dislike this romance. If Lucas had used a shred of understanding in the first act of the novel, he would’ve picked up on Anna’s traumatic past early on, saving them both a lot of heartache and enabling them to stop her stalker at least one hundred pages sooner. I think it works here because (a) Lucas’s negative reaction to Anna’s suspicious behavior is pretty measured (he withdraws emotionally and makes some stupid assumptions, but he’s not ever really mad at her and he still wants to make the marriage of convenience work) and (b) both characters are set up in such a way that you get why it takes so long for them to communicate (his default mode is to keep to himself, while she’s understandably reticent to talk about the horrible stuff she’s been through and stung by Lucas’s assumptions). Instead of frustrating the reader, Balogh wrings maximum angst from the set-up, making for great catharsis.

Favorite Scene: As much as I love the angst, the unexpected initial romance of Anna and Lucas’s courtship was what truly reeled me in.

7. Duke of Desire by Elizabeth Hoyt (2017)

Exact Setting: 1740s England.

Premise: Proper widow Iris Daniels, Lady Jordan, is traveling home from a friend’s wedding when she’s waylaid by a secret society of evil aristocrats. Raphael de Chartres, the Duke of Dyemore, has infiltrated the society to bring it down, but he endangers his cover by rescuing Iris and throwing her in his carriage. Unfortunately, Iris thinks he’s just a regular evil aristocrat, so she shoots him, making it necessary for her to nurse him back to health at his secluded estate. She does a good job, but they still have to deal with the evil secret society and his all-consuming desire for revenge.

Why I Like It: Hoyt’s romances all have a fairy-tale feel, and she makes wonderful use of that atmosphere in Duke of Desire. Rafe lives in a dusty, disused castle, filled with old secrets and staffed by fiercely protective Corsican servants. Scarred and angry, Rafe has serious Beast-from-Beauty-and-the-Beast vibes, except he never kidnaps anyone and actually tries to deal with his serious mental health issues even before Iris brings a more sensible perspective into his life. I appreciated his family relationships, both with his sweet, disfigured maternal aunt and the monstrous father that he nevertheless loved.

Favorite Scene: I really like Rafe’s aunt, who could have easily been a Morality Pet but instead comes across as a capable, kindhearted woman who returns Rafe’s uncharacteristically gentle concern for her welfare.

8. The Pursuit of ... by Courtney Milan (2017)

Exact Setting: 1780s America (on a road trip from Virginia to Maine) and England.

Premise: John Hunter, a black Patriot soldier in the American Revolutionary War, finds himself fighting a white Redcoat who (a) won’t shut up and (b) outright asks John to kill him because he doesn’t want to go home. Instead, John gives the other soldier his jacket and tells him to start a new life in America. The last thing he expects is for the other soldier, Henry Latham, to show up at his camp post-battle and ask how he can repay John for saving his life. It turns out that John could use a companion on the long, perilous trip to his home in Maine, although he’s reluctant to trust a white dude who could choose to disregard his debt at any moment. As the trip progresses, however, they get to know each other and grow closer.

Why I Like It: When I read a Courtney Milan romance, I know that I’m not going to be bored. Her zippy dialogue, sense of humor, and use of interesting themes make even her weaker romances fun reads, and The Pursuit of ... is among her strongest. John and Henry are both engaging, sympathetic characters who interact with each other wonderfully; I especially enjoy how Henry’s incessant loopy patter bounces off of John’s deadpan remarks. The novella also balances its humor very well with serious discussions on what it means to live in a country whose reality falls so short of its ideals.

Favorite Scene: John’s reaction to hearing why Henry’s dad made him join the military.

9. Duke of Sin by Elizabeth Hoyt (2016)

Exact Setting: 1740s England.

Premise: Valentine Napier, the Duke of Montgomery, is a very bad man who goes around blackmailing and kidnapping his fellow aristocrats willy-nilly. Bridget Crumb, his housekeeper, is determined to stop him from blackmailing one lady in particular. They get along surprisingly well! Also, a bunch of crazy shit happens involving the evil society from Duke of Desire.

Why I Like It: I don’t know why, but Valentine Napier just cracks me up. He’s like a hotter, more sinister Dr. Doofenshmirtz, and I love him. He brags to Bridget about doing evil stuff that he doesn’t actually do, and then she goes behind his back and quietly undoes his latest scheme. Then he does something nice for her dog. Then he spouts a lot of flowery poetic nonsense (usually about how he has no heart and she’s a beautiful angel filled with integrity). Then they make out. It’s a beautiful, ridiculous relationship that’s propped up by a delightfully baroque novel.

Favorite Scene: Val sulks because his heartless self can’t relate to his beloved half-sister now that she’s happily married. EVIL.

10. Promised Land by Rose Lerner (2017)

Exact Setting: 1780s America (New York and Virginia).

Premise: Some time ago, Rachel Mendelson left her home and marriage in New York City to disguise herself as Ezra Jacobs and join the Patriot Army. Now she’s a corporal, and the Battle of Yorktown looms on the horizon. And who should show up but Nathan, the husband she loved but couldn’t live with, working as a Patriot spy? As the battle approaches, they struggle to work out the reasons why their first attempt at marriage failed, as well as their future as Jewish Americans.

Why I Like It: Lerner fits a lot of complexity into one novella without ever descending into inelegance. Without a single flashback, she communicates the entire history of Rachel and Nathan’s marriage, which was marked by affection and sexual attraction as well as painful class tensions and family dynamics. She tackles Nathan and Rachel’s differing approaches to their religion in an intelligent, nuanced way. Plus, the battlefield scenes wouldn’t be out of place in Hemingway--like, top-tier Hemingway, not the kind you make fun of.

Favorite Scene: The battlefield scenes, or Rachel’s description of her planned memoirs.

Further Notes: The Leopard Prince is #2 in the Prince Trilogy (which are only very loosely related). To Seduce a Sinner is #2 in the Four Soldiers series, and I would recommend reading the also-very-good To Taste Temptation first. Thief of Shadows, Duke of Sin, and Duke of Pleasure are #4, #10, and #12 in the Maiden Lane series, respectively, and that’s a series that I’d recommend reading in order, because I started with #2 instead of #1 and that alone was confusing. An Unlikely Countess and A Scandalous Countess are both spinoffs of Jo Beverley’s Malloren series, but I enjoyed them despite only reading one Malloren romance proper and one other spinoff. Heartless has a sequel, Silent Melody, which is also very good in a bonkers way. The Pursuit of ... and Promised Land are both part of the Hamilton’s Battalion anthology, plus The Pursuit of ... is technically part of Milan’s Worth Saga, although you don’t need to read any of them to understand it.

#romance novels #the leopard prince #to seduce a sinner #an unlikely countess #thief of shadows #a scandalous countess #heartless #duke of desire #the pursuit of ...#duke of sin #promised land #elizabeth hoyt #jo beverley #mary balogh #courtney milan #rose lerner

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