#bc he texted me today about something fucking weird without giving me literally any bit of context

[ohlovxr]

one piece of family drama that i’ve been dealing with is my brother moving out and into my dad’s place bc of multiple different reasons (mostly selfish and mostly because he’s greedy) and at first i thought it’d be hell for a lot of reasons, but tell me why my self esteem immediately went up ??

like i realized a few weeks ago that i stopped doubting myself 24/7, i can literally communicate with people a lot more easier, i’m not afraid to talk about literally anything i like, i stopped thinking twice about what i put on, i can make a meal and eat without feeling this weird sort of stress, and just a shit ton of more things… and i’m now realizing it’s bc all my brother did was make me feel like shit 24/7 lol. he was consistently condescending and would make me feel like shit anytime i’d even remotely say or do the wrong thing at home, in public, in front of others, anything. and when he wasn’t being casually mean, whenever we’d get into fights he’d immediately always start attacking the way i look or about my anxiety or literally any embarrassing moment or any of my personal issues and wouldn’t let up even when i’d cry and tell him to just stop (mind you, i never went there with him. like when you fight about something, you fight about whatever it is thats the problem. his whole tactic was trying to constantly put me down instead of trying to prove himself right)…

like thanks FUCK he’s out

[mulletcal]

flowers, maybe daisies, might relieve the gloom. - an a.i blurb

a/n: i lowkey blame @sexgodashton​ for starting this whole mini series of boomer!ash things, but i also adore this because boomer!ash is soft as hell.  and also a lil d*ddy but we don’t need to talk about that.  title is from wait by sweeney todd bc i love it.  alternative title was gonna be from L.G. FUAD by motion city soundtrack

word count: 

warnings: ashton irwin being a thirst trapping, lemon stealing whore. i’m kidding it’s just a solo ash fic w no smut but some mild ash thirst trapping.

-----

‘ashtonirwin started a live video.’

Ashton didn’t often go live on Instagram, but this shelter in place order had left him ultimately bored - writing a song every day before noon, sure, but anything after that was a blur.  Occasionally he would have interviews or live-streams with the band, but on days without that he was left alone with his thoughts, and his thoughts weren’t always the safest place to be; so talking to fans it was. 

It was going well so far, simply asking fans how their quarantine was going - bringing some of them into the livestream so he could talk to some face to face.  One girl in particular had caught his attention when they began to discuss hobbies she had picked up during the time she’d spent at home.

“Yeah, I’m learning to garden.  I have a tomato plant that is just starting to sprout actual tomatoes, so that’s kind of exciting,” She had said, a nervous laugh escaping.

“Well, I would hope that your tomato plant is sprouting tomatoes, it would be a little concerning if it was growing something else,” Ashton replied with a chuckle, the girl giving a small shrug but still laughing along with him.

“You should look into it if you’ve got the room at your house, I bet it would feel rather rewarding to be able to cook something with your own fresh vegetables.”

“Would save me quite a bit of money too.  Can I grow yeast? I’d like to learn how to make my own bread but here in L.A. you can’t find yeast anywhere.”

The conversation continued like that for a few minutes more, Ashton taking only a couple more fans into the livestream after that to talk to before he decided he should probably do something else productive with his day.  Something like learning to garden. 

It surprised Ashton the things you were able to order online during this time - soil being the main thing.  He also read that saving coffee grounds would help, and he was excited at the idea of his insane coffee habit wouldn’t be completely useless.  He ended up buying seeds for tomatoes, mint, sunflowers, lemongrass, and zucchini.  The lemongrass and mint was specifically for Calum, realizing he would be able to dry the plants out once he had harvested them so he could make the man his very own tea.

When his package finally arrived, Ashton spread the packages out, sliding them across the table as though he was some card dealer in Las Vegas.  Thinking the fans would find it amusing, he took a picture of the spread and added it to his story with the caption of ‘pick a card, any card…’.  Maybe it would only be funny to him, but it did prompt a fire reaction from Michael.

It seemed as though the reaction from fans were positive though, them taking to Twitter to let him know their excitement about his new endeavour.  That’s where his weekly livestreams began.  He would show everyone the progress he was making with his plants, and just in general him chatting with fans.  Ashton never really thought of how refreshing it could be to just talk to the fans, without the worry of time restrictions or anyone’s personal safety in the way; in fact, it left him rather inspired, loving their fans even more if it were at all possible.

A particularly warm day in L.A. left Ashton wondering if he should go out to the garden that day - but it was the day he would normally livestream, and he was excited to show what he was up to that day.  Ashton wanted to plant another tomato plant, and also the lemons on his infamous tree had enough for him to make some lemonade so he was going to go through that as well.

Clad in some cut off jeans, or as Calum so affectionately called them his jorts, and a white tank top, he pulled up the live option on Instagram and waited for the people to begin to filter in before he started to speak.

“Hey guys! Just gonna wait for more of you to filter in before I actually head outside, but I thought that since you guys love my lemon tree so much, I’d make some lemonade.  Fuck, I sound like a YouTuber.  Is that gonna be my next career, is just YouTube tutorials on how to make shitty lemonade?” Ashton laughed to himself, slicing the lemon so he could juice it, ignoring the comments he saw about murdering his lemon children.

It didn’t take him long to make the lemonade, making mild conversation with the fans while he stirred in a little bit of sugar and some cheat mint he had ordered while waiting for his own to grow.

“Alright, now that I’m waiting for that to cool, probably best we go outside and check on those tomatoes, hm?” 

It had been weird at first, talking to himself; but he quickly realized that he talked to himself anyways, even without the phone in front of him, so it couldn’t have been too weird for anyone who could overhear him.

“So I wanted to plant another tomato plant today, because everyone can use a friend right now, you know?” He looked into the camera, a smile spreading across his face when he saw the flood of cute little emojis that followed.  “M’gonna be like the Bob Ross of gardening. No mistakes, only happy accidents or whatever it was he said.”

Ashton began to work away at his garden, building up a sweat in the process.  It wasn’t until he leaned back, glancing at his phone did he see a text from Michael flash across the top.

‘Mate, Crystal said stop thirst trapping the fans.’

Ashton’s brow furrowed, unsure of what the text was saying, “Okay so I just got a text from Michael - what’s thirst trapping? And am I currently doing it?”

Of all the comments that followed, he noticed one that said ‘I mean… I’m not gonna say either way but take a look at yourself and get back to us’.  Another one told him that it was when someone wears something in order to provoke risque texts, or gain attention from someone.

Ashton pouted, looking down at his appearance.  He was kind of sweaty, but he didn’t think that the fans would mind him being covered in dirt and sweat, it’s not as though they had to smell him.  Though, he would admit that he needed a shower. 

“Well, since my tomato plant has been… planted next to its’ friend, and I’m apparently thirst trapping you all, I should probably go shower and clean up.  Is me mentioning a shower thirst trapping as well?” Ashton rubbed his face over his hands, a small huff leaving his lips, “I don’t know… Fellow youths, tweet me and lemme know.  Also, may hold a poll later on what to name these guys.” He flipped the camera around, struggling for a moment, to show the sunflowers that were starting to sprout, “M’thinking of naming one Denise.  Just seems like a Denise.”

After his small speech was over, he ended the stream, grinning to himself.  He hadn’t meant to show off his body in such a way, but it was funny to know that even with him hardly doing anything but be himself they still lost their shit.

Glancing around at his garden, he felt himself swell with a mild sense of pride.  He was still a ways off from seeing any fruits of his labour (literally), but it made him feel good knowing he did something with his time at home, instead of slipping further into his mind which wasn’t always the kindest to him.

Ashton realized that when he was gardening, it was similar to songwriting in a way where all of his self doubts and fears went away and he could just pour himself into it - the reward being well worth the risk in the end.

Once his shower was done, he sat outside in his backyard, sipping his lemonade and enjoying the sunshine - realizing that having to stay home wasn’t all too bad, if it meant he could reset his mind, and do some small part to help how he could during that time.

tag list:  @haikucal​ @talkfastromance4​ @softbabiestan​ @boyfriend-cal​ @calum-uncrowned​ @wildflowerirwin​ @irwindoll​ @gosh-im-short​  @thesubtweeter​ @heavenisapeach​ @ridingcthood​ @loveroflrh​ @mantlereid​ @inlovehoodx​ @irwinkitten​ @n-ctarinenga​​ @g-l-pierce​ @thecurlsofgod​

[writingtoforgetreality]

I just want us to be safe – Chapter 1 (Andy Barber x Daughter!Reader)

Next Chapter / I just want us to be safe-Masterlist

Summary: You were the 20-year-old daughter of Andy Barber. Nine months after a one-night-stand, your biological mother decided to give the responsibility to him. Yet, you were happy with your small family. One day, though, a scary event occured & somehow you involuntarily started being a part of this.

Words: 2,089

Warnings: none just yet, maybe a bit of swearing bc that`s me, angst if you squint

If you like my work & wanna support me: a coffee would be highly appreciated ❤

You were (Y/N) Barber. Daughter of the assistent attorney, Andy Barber. You were 20 years old & used to attend Newton high school, like your younger brother Jacob did. Now, your background is a bit more complicated. Technically, Jacob was not your biological brother. Neither was Laurie, Jacob’s mother & Andy’s wife, your biological mother. Some time ago, when your dad had not been dating Laurie yet, he had a one-night-stand with some girl he had met at a bar. Just one night, he had not seen her after that encounter. What he did not know though: the girl got pregnant & nine months later, Andy found a small basket at his doorstep. There you were, wrapped in a blanket. There was a letter, too. Your biological mother had not been ready for a child but she knew Andy would handle you just fine. And, being the guy Andy was, he obviously took you in. You were his daughter to say the last. He made sure to take a paternity test & yep, you were his daughter.

Now, do not get me wrong, you grew up with Laurie being your mother & yet, you had never, not even once, called her “mom“. You simply did not feel ready to do so & neither your dad nor Laurie pushed you into something you were not comfortable with. When you were 6 years old, Jacob was born & ever since then, you had made sure to protect him at all costs. Your dad loved seeing you with Jacob & he loved the bond you two shared. Laurie was sure that you would be more open about her being your mother after that but nope. Your guess was that you still felt neglected by your biological mother & did not want to let another “mother figure“ get close to you. Your dad never lied to you about anything. He tried to explain to you from the very beginning how your biological mother “abandoned“ you & that Laurie was & will always be your mom. While Andy did not lie to you, the two of you had kept a secret from Jacob & Laurie. Your dad said that they did not need to know & he did not want them to see him in a different light. It was not his fault that his dad had been a criminal though. It was not his fault your grandfather killed, stabbed to be exact, a girl. He had been suffering for his actions in jail, for a very long time. You had agreed on keeping it for you, never doubting your dad. You knew he only had good intentions.

After graduating from Newton High, you got into law school near your home. You wanted to follow your dad’s footsteps. He did not force you to approach the same career & let you choose a path yourself. He would lie if he said that he was not proud of you for wanting to do the same as him though. Law school was absolutely amazing, you loved going there every day, loved coming home to tell the new things you learned at your dinner table. People say sometimes you know when a decision is right, you have a gut feeling about it. You were sure: this was YOUR way. Even though your family was quite wealthy, never having a problem about money whatsoever, you still wanted to have a part-time job during college. Earning your own money simply felt amazing. Your dad & Laurie were so proud of you for being so independent.

Here you were, a nice family, a house, the best future ahead. But life does not always roll that way, does it? Every time when Jacob had a problem in school or with homework, studying for an upcoming exam, he would knock on your door, waiting for you to yell “Come in! I told you there’s no need to knock, Jay.“ Jay. You always called him that. He was your little brother & while others called him “Jake“ or simply “Jacob“, you wanted to have something for yourself. Jay it was. Anyway, after coming into your room, asking if you were busy, the two of you always ended up doing school stuff together. It was more fun to have company & Jacob was always thankful for you helping him out. Of course you would, you never had a problem in high school, always bringing home good grades. You liked helping him wherever you could.

Your alarm woke you up at 6 am. Time to get up, get ready & head to college. Usually, dad would take you with him in the mornings since his work is close to your school. Today, though, you had to take your own car to drive to school, you had to work at your local diner afterwards. Yes, you did purchase that car on your own. After saving enough money, you decided on a small black car, not really caring too much about the brand. All that mattered was that it was not too pricey & that it worked. Of course your parents offered you to buy you that car but you wanted to do this on your own. And would you look at that, you managed to buy it without being broke. As you finished showering, putting makeup on & deciding on an outfit, you made your way downstairs where dad & Jacob were already seated. Laurie was most likely out on her daily morning run. You did not understand how someone could go jogging voluntarily. It kept you healthy but at what cost?

“G’morning male beings of this household.“ you greeted them & earned a chuckle from dad. You were not a morning person but that was not your family’s fault so you would brush off your grogginess in order not to say something you might regret later. Jacob was busy writing away on his phone. Gosh, this boy & his damned phone.

“Good morning, angel. How did you sleep?” your dad shot you a grin. He had been calling you “angel“ ever since you were little & you absolutely loved this nickname.

“Like a princess, as always.“ you answered. Some might say you were a sarcastic piece of shit & you know what, maybe they were right. You were a lot like your dad & you liked yourself & your goofiness. You could be serious when it was needed though, your personality was perfectly balanced.

“Hello? Earth to Jay?“ you waved your hand in front of his face to gain his attention but his eyes were glued on his screen still.

“Morning.“ was the only word you got out of him.

“Okay, what girl are you texting? Do I know her? Does she have an older sister? Brother, maybe? Is she hot?“ you teased him & Jacob sent you a glare which made you giggle.

“I’m just texting Derek.“ Jacob stated.

“Wow…And I thought I was the one who hated mornings.“ you stated, mostly to yourself but your dad heard you & started laughing. Even Jacob let out a low giggle.

While the three of you held a conversation, Laurie got back home, greeting you & asking you about your plans for today.

“Do I need to take any of you to school?“ dad asked.

“Um, actually, I’ll be driving myself today. I’ll be back home a bit later, gotta earn that bread, y’know?“ you smirked at both, your dad & Laurie to wait for their reactions. Seeing them laugh was one of your favorite things in this world, especially when you were the reason.

“Sure thing, just text me when you know how late it’ll be.“ dad waited for you to nod, looked at Jacob & asked “What about you, buddy?“

“I’ll be walking today.“

“You sure, you know it’s no probl-” but before dad could finish, Jacob cut him off.

“I’m fine with walking.“

“Okay, just be safe.“

Checking the time, you saw that you should keep going so you went over to dad & Laurie, gave each of them a kiss on the cheek, went over to Jacob, messed up his hair a bit which earned you a groan & finally made your way outside to your car. You hopped in, turned on the engine & started driving off. Every time you would drive yourself, you always stopped at Starbucks for a quick breakfast. Your breakfast mostly consisted of a nice coffee. No offense, but the coffee you got at home just was not it. And let’s be honest: Nobody survives college without having coffee.

Finishing all of you classes for the day, you & a few of your colleagues exited the building. Usually, when you were at college, you did not look at your phone at all, finding it too distracting when you had to focus on something else. But as soon as you unlocked your phone, you knew something was off. You had two calls from Jacob, which was weird since he barely ever called you, & 5 missed calls from dad. Fuck, something was not right. You excused yourself from your friend group, teling them you had to go to work earlier, while in reality, you moved to your car, opened it & got inside. As soon as you closed your door, you called Jacob first. He picked up almost immeadiately.

“(Y/N)? Thank god, I’ve tried calling you.“ he sounded a bit shaken up? That was off.

“Yeah, I know, sorry `bout that, Jay. You know how I ignore my phone during classes but anyway…What’s up? Are you okay?” you started growing concerned now.

“Newton High is locked down. Apparently they found a 14-year-old stabbed in the woods. I am fine though.“ his voice was quiet, almost like he did not want anyone else to hear. Your heart stopped a beat. There was a killer running around town. Who the hell would stab a teenager? Who the hell would stab anyone to begin with?

“Have you talked to dad yet?“ you really did not know what else to say. You were just glad your little brother was alright. That was all that mattered right now.

“Yes, he’s on it. He said he wanted to call you. Have YOU talked to him?“

“Not yet, I’ll call him now, just wanted to make sure you’re okay. Call me if something’s wrong or if you`re scared, okay?“ your heart was literally racing. Yeah, your brother was fine but the victim was his age & Jacob usually took the way through the woods to get to school. The mere thought of your brother being the one who had been murdered scared you like crazy.

“Will do. Thanks, (Y/N). Bye.“

“Bye, Jay.“ you ended the call & let yourself breathe for a moment. Not even once in your life did you think something like this could happen in your neighborhood. You lived in one oft he safest areas in the country & yet this brutal event had happened so close to home. The world was a scary place. A few minutes later, after calming down as good as it was possible, you dialed dad’s number. He would most likely knew more. To be honest, you were not sure if you really wanted to know more about this case but on the other hand,you were curious. Of course you were, you wanted to do this as your future job. His phone rang twice before he picked up.

“(Y/N)? Angel?“ he did not sound scared, just relieved to hear your voice.

“Yeah, it’s me, dad. I’m fine, talked to Jay. He told me what happened. Well, as much as he knew, of course. What the hell is going on?“ you were rambling. You always were when you grew nervous or anxious.

“Breathe, angel. Look, there’s a lot going on. Could you come home, like, right now? I called your boss, she said it was fine if you took the evening off.“ he knew you would say you needed to go to work so he had called the diner you worked at to explain the situation.

“I’ll be home in ten.“

“Drive safe.“ your dad always made sure you were okay, trying to protect you as much as he could. He would do everything for his family to be safe.

“Always.“ & with that, you ended the call. Everthing inside you screamed to go over the speed limit but your dad’s words popped into your mind again. He would not want this. You would survive another ten minutes before coming home.

~to be continued~

Published 04/30/2020 by Cathy

[cinnaminsvga]

fox rain | three

→ 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. namjoon) → genre: college!au, crack, fluff, angst → warnings: none unless you count overly graphic descriptions of how stupid namjoon is (oh and like... ant gambling rings??) → words: 15.7K → a/n: this is late by a month and my whole life is a joke. i hope this makes you laugh bc i made namjoon extra dumb for y’all (for no extra charge. suck it, chipotle.) also: check bio for other chapter links for now!

— • masterlist | prev | three | next • —

“This can’t be my fucking life. Can it?” you say to your own reflection, curtains of despair dripping from every inch of your visage. Your reflection stares back, the same dead eyes twitching imperceptibly from the lack of caffeine in your system. At this point, you wouldn’t be sane enough to be surprised if your parallel self would reply, perhaps with some scathing remark about how you were slowly losing your grip on your life. Not that it would be unwarranted, anyway.

After Hoseok’s explosion the other day, your weekend doesn’t exactly feel as exciting as it usually is. Of course, your mood is still a vast improvement from last week when you were out of commission for most it after your mental breakdown. Although, it doesn’t erase the fact that you’re still knee deep in shit and that you have no idea how you’re going to face Hoseok and Jimin the following Monday.

Damn. You could really use some coffee.

The day seems to be in much better spirits than you, and it would be a waste not to let the universe’s good mood try to make you feel better as well. There is a coffee shop just a block away, and maybe you could take a walk in the sunshine afterwards to help relax the dread consistently knocking at the back of your mind. It’s a little bit optimistic, but it’ll have to do.

Shrugging on a thin cardigan over some other semi-decent clothes, you step out of your stuffy apartment with a spring in your step. You didn’t bother with any of your usual morning ritual, seeing as how you don’t plan on meeting with anyone you know from university anyway. So what if your landlady Mrs. Park sees the bird’s nest on top of your head? Who is she going to tell? Her gang of old auntie friends all hate you already for wearing a “TRANS RIGHTS” shirt in front of them, so it’s not like you’re vying for their acceptance.

Other than your less than friendly neighborhood aunties, there are better old people to hang around anyway. Nearby the coffee shop, there is a senior home where you used to volunteer during your spare time until your other commitments forced you to give up your spot to some other benevolent soul. Since you have been meaning to visit the grandmas and grandpas there when you got some free time, you suppose it would be nice to talk to kind ol’ Ms. Kim today and listen to her recount her many youthful adventures (which is, more often than not, a euphemism for her various sexcapades in the 70s.)

The senior home is closer to your home than the coffee shop, so you choose to stop and gaze at the plain-looking white building with its neatly trimmed bushes and white picket fence. It looks out of place in the neighborhood, with its very suburban and Americana design, but you know it is only because the owner of the establishment had gotten her inspiration from Forrest Gump. She has a crush on young Tom Hanks, and you honestly can’t blame her for it; that man… he is a Man, with a capital M.

You’re in the middle of debating whether you should buy your coffee first before visiting the seniors when you hear a distant shout coming from within the house. Alarmed, you take a step back, almost falling on your ass and onto the sidewalk. You pause, tilting your head to try and peak over the fence and through the large windows that showed the reception area within. You recognize Hana, the receptionist, sitting by her desk in her usual green scrubs, her head bowed over a book as if the sound had not fazed her in the slightest.

“Am I crazy? Am I starting to hear things?” You wonder aloud, still staring at the innocent-looking home. Has the universe had enough with your lacklustre existence that it has caused you to hear nonsense? Is this only the beginning of your slow descent into madness?

You don’t have to fret over your sanity for too long because moments later, the shout repeats itself. Like the previous one, this one sounds just as pained and anguished, though you aren’t sure if it was a male or female who had screamed. For all you knew, the person might have either stubbed their toe or gotten a knife stabbed through their chest; it’s not like you spend time distinguishing the subtle nuances of tormented screams. However, you are more certain now that it had come from within the home, even though Hana has yet to react to the chilling noise. She flips to the next page, tired eyes squinting at the small text.

You are stuck at an impasse: do you go inside the home despite the possible danger of entering a secret cannabilist society of which your acquaintance has been initiated to, or do you turn around and go home where it is 100% more likely for you to survive the next 24 hours?

The choice becomes apparent to you, however, when a tall, lanky boy bursts out of one of the doors behind the receptionist, with his arms piled to the ceiling with dinner plates on the cusp of making their way to the floor. Even through the window and behind a fence, you can tell that he is in dire need of help, which Hana does not seem likely to extend. The mess of legs makes a beautiful display of himself, his lower limbs flapping about aimlessly as his body contorts to try and keep himself and the plates balanced.

Finally, after what feels like hours of torture watching the poor volunteer make a fool of himself, he manages to steady himself, his legs crossed together like he’s trying to hold in his piss. Carefully, he squats down, placing the plates on the floor in front of the receptionist desk. For a moment, you feel as though you should be applauding, for whatever reason.

Now without dishes obscuring his face, you can make out the identity of the flailing giraffe man. He turns, fingers combing through his distinctly colored hair––

Oh god. It’s him. You gotta get out of there, fast, before he recognizes you. Maybe if you run quickly enough, then maybe he won’t notice you when he looks out the window around.

“Ha,” the universe laughs, clapping their asscheeks to the rhythm of Ludacris’ Move Bitch Get Out Da Way™️ with a smirk. “Cute of you to think your life isn’t basically a 20-year long trainwreck in motion.”

Inevitably he turns around, his eyes immediately locking on your face despite being half-concealed by the fence. He looks confused for a moment, mouth opening and closing like a goldfish until he lights up, recognition flooding his features. Even though you cannot hear him clearly, you just know that he said something stupid, judging by the way Hana has finally looked up from her book to stare at him weirdly.

Please don’t come out and greet me. Please just let me wave at you awkwardly and for you to stay where you are. Please don’t go out and talk to me––

Your prayers go unanswered once more as he sidesteps the wall of plates, his hip just barely grazing it and almost causing it to tumble down. The pile sways precariously from left to right, miraculously staying put as he rushes out to greet you. You can only imagine the mess he’d have to clean up if it did, shards of cheap porcelain left behind in his awkward, fumbling wake.

Luckily (or unluckily for you), he makes it out of the senior home in one piece. He crosses the short path to the fence in two inhumanly long strides, slamming the fence door open with a wide swing. It smacks loudly against the railing, the hinges making a pained groan as it looks to be at the inch of its life––literally. You vaguely remember replacing the screws on it just before you left over six months ago… Surely you hadn’t done such a shoddy job? Although, you know that simply can’t be true. After all, you’re dealing with none other than destruction incarnate himself, Kim––

“Y/N!” Namjoon greets happily, his dimples deeper than you remember. You swallow heavily, trying your best not to sweat under his overly enthusiastic gaze. God, you should’ve gone straight to the coffee shop when you had the chance.

Nothing like facing disaster head-on, as they say. “Hey,” you reply half-heartedly, though the walking inflatable tube man doesn’t seem to mind your lacklustre mood. He grasps your hands for a shake, swinging your entire body up and down with the care of a man who does not know his own strength. You, his unfortunate victim, are left to suffer through his artery-bursting grip.

“Oh god, you have no idea how glad I am to see you! Not that I’m not normally happy to see you at university, but––” He speaks so quickly that it’s hard to keep track of the specific contents of his sentences, so you can only hope that your unenthused nods will be enough to placate the bumbling buffoon. You resign yourself to a fate similar to the bobbleheads on the dashboards of those white suburban soccer moms.

“Wait, hold on.” What on earth..? You are full on gaping at the piece of work on top of his head, not even pretending to be polite as you try to process what is in front of you. “What the hell happened to your hair?”

You know from old Facebook photos that Namjoon has natural black locks, though you can’t say that his wacky hairstyles were also inborn. Ever since you have known him, he has always dyed his hair a sandy brown color, complimenting his tan skin. Now, however…

“You mean the weird blue streaks?” Namjoon says, rubbing a few strands thoughtfully. His hair is a walking disaster, and this is coming from someone who has seen what Kim Seokjin has done to his clients. (There’s a reason his Yelp reviews are terrible… He deserves negative stars, if you’re being honest.)

“Did you lose a dare or something?”

“Uh… Kind of?” He scratches the back of his neck, embarrassed. “I had meant to change my hair color to something more exciting, so I asked the kids at the daycare and they suggested blue. Problem is, the seniors said they preferred my brown hair but I already promised the kids so… Here we fucking are,” he says in one breath, appearing as though what he said was obvious.

“So your solution was to compromise… by coloring half your hair blue, like some botched version of Death the Kid?”

“Exactly!” He beams, glad that you understand him perfectly.

Oh my god… He’s… No words are coming to you right now, but you get the picture.

The thing about Kim Namjoon is… he’s not… bad. Or dumb, for that matter.

Okay, not the best compliment out there, but it’s true. You’ve known for as long as you’ve been a university student, and your first meeting is certainly one for the books. You wouldn’t exactly consider him a “friend,” and an acquaintance is a bit of a stretch on most days, but he’s a nice guy. He’s eccentric in the most positive way, and not at all in the same chaotic and evil way that Seokjin is (for which you are thankful for.) It has always been a bit tricky to get close with him, as his head is always so far up in his work that it almost feels like he’s being reclusive on purpose.

If you ignore the fact that he has that odd propensity to volunteer himself in any job on the face of the earth (with him being unqualified 9 times out of 10), it is easy to see why people think so highly of him.

He is a scholarship student with a 4.0 GPA, is the youngest candidate to ever receive the university president’s yearly public commendation, and has already released two reputable mixtapes with high praise from critics nationwide. He’s nothing if not a prodigy, and he’s amassed a hefty following for his accomplishments. As a music major yourself, it’s hard not to be a little starstruck with him if you’re being honest.

Most of all, you remember the first song that you had ever heard from him: Moonchild. You still can’t quite believe he let you hear one of his many masterpieces when the two of you had just been total strangers. The lyrics had been so heartfelt, so intimate, that you felt as if you were intruding on his personal space or something. But he had let you listen, let you take a peek at what goes on inside that nebulous brain of his. When he does things like that, it makes it easy to understand why people might think your love poem might be about him. He’s just so… easy to admire.

The poem isn’t about him, but. It could have been, in some other life. (Or maybe it is.)

(Was.)

(Will?)

Regardless, you still have to convince him otherwise. You just simply aren’t ready for that type of development, much less with him. Despite all his good sides.

Thus, Kim Namjoon leaves you at a standstill. Why do you feel so fucking weird about harboring this idol crush on him? How can he be so dumb and so smart at the same time? He has blue fucking hair for crying out loud! He’s causing you cognitive dissonance just by existing, and it’s giving your meagre amount of brain cells a workout.

Oh shit, have you been ignoring him? You were totally zoning out this entire time, haven’t you?

Somewhere around the time you were having your mini mental breakdown, Namjoon’s mouth had stopped moving, giving you an expectant look. Oh shit. He probably asked you something. Embarrassed and unwilling to give away that you had not processed even a single word out of his mouth, you nod and give him an approximation of what you assume is a friendly smile.

For a second, you think that you might have gotten away with it when Namjoon’s face breaks out into an enormous grin. He grabs you by the shoulder and envelops you in an chokehold-like embrace. You let out a wheeze, clawing at his biceps with your remaining strength to try and prevent your untimely death due to asphyxiation. “Namjoon..?”

He lets out a shriek at a higher octave than you thought a man of his size was capable of. Somewhere out there, a dog probably perks up at the supersonic sound. “Y/N, I knew I could count on you! Thank you so much for agreeing to help me with the elders for Zombie Tea Time!”

Now that caught your attention. You pause in your squirming to fix him with a confused expression. “I’m… I’m sorry? What did you say?”

His smile never falters. He presses his cheek against yours, rubbing it happily with a hum. In any other scenario, you might have fainted from how adorable he was being, but seeing as how all your blood is still trapped in your upper extremities from his vice hug, it is difficult enough trying to remember how to stay alive.

“Every Saturday, the senior home hosts this event called Zombie Tea Time where the old people all get to have their faces painted with fake blood and all the volunteers have to pretend to be innocent civilians trying to get away from them!”

The more Namjoon speaks, the more you feel your sanity dripping out of your ass like diarrhea. “Ex. Excuse me? Say that again?”

“Yeah, it’s a new thing the volunteers are trying out this month,” Namjoon says, finally (finally) releasing you from his hug. You don’t know if your flushed cheeks are from embarrassment or a stroke. “Like I said, we’re a bit shorthanded today, so I’ve had to wash the plates from breakfast AND pretend to get eaten by senile zombies. It’s… a lot.”

“Oh, I can tell.” You grimace, patting him on the shoulder empathetically. You freeze. “Wait. So that’s why you were screaming a while ago?”

“Huh?” Namjoon pauses, before his face does something funny where it looks like he’s either going to sneeze or take a shit. Thankfully he does neither, but instead reaches his hand around his back like he has an itch he needs to scratch. He makes a pained yelp, plucking something out from his asscheeks and pulling out what appears to be––

You stare at the object in his palm. “Are those… dentures?”

“Hmm…” Namjoon stares at it, too tired to be disgusted. He just nods his head sagely. “Must’ve been when I was too slow to dodge Mister Lee’s lunge. I was beginning to wonder why my ass felt like it was being eaten out.”

“Please, never say that sentence to me ever again.”

“Yea,” he agrees, sighing faintly. He pockets the teeth much to your horror, patting it gently like he hadn’t just placed a pair of dentures in his fucking scrubs. He dusts off his hands, his lips pursed so that his dimples stand prominently on display. You barely contain yourself from sinking your finger right into their hypnotizing abysses.

He looks at you hopefully. “So… Uh. You said you’ll help me?”

Oh right. You fucking said you’d help him fend off a hoard of virulent old people in face paint.

You look to the right, where the coffee shop is just within sight. Sweet, sweet caffeine, tantalizing you with its saccharine presence, dangling its wretchedly addictive power over your head. If you breathe deeply enough, you think you can smell the coffee beans from here.

You turn back to Namjoon, and you can physically feel the weight of his hopeful gaze on your shoulders. Your defenses have never crumbled so quickly in your life. Fuck him and his stupidly handsome ass.

You sigh, resigning your fate to eternally being whipped for a pair of pretty long legs and size B man titties. “Let’s fucking do this, I guess.” Easier said than done, but you already have one foot in elephant shit, so might as well submerge your whole body as well.

You follow Namjoon closely, having to take two extra steps for every one step that he takes. He crosses the reception area quickly, sending energetic finger guns at Hana which unsurprisingly goes unrequited. You take the more inconspicuous route and wave shyly at her, intimidated by her even after you have long since stopped working here. She levels you with one of her infamous hundred yard stares, lips turned downwards as she appraises you.

“You’ve decided to come back?” she asks, leaning back on her chair with a huff.

Namjoon is in the midst of trying to once again carry all the plates in his Play-Doh arms, so you’re a bit distracted when you shake your head in response. “Uh. N-no, Namjoon just asked me to help with the dishes, that’s all.”

“That’s a shame,” Hana says, no trace of disappointment in her voice whatsoever. She returns to her book, buzzing open the double doors to let the two of you pass. She flicks her hand lazily at the commotion happening behind her. “Better hurry back in there. The seniors are getting antsy.”

The doors open automatically, and you almost topple over when you are immediately bombarded with the terrifying symphony of old people hollering obscenities at frantic volunteers trying desperately to get away from their gnarled clutches. The hoard hasn’t noticed the two of you yet, and you fear to wonder what type of horrors that you will have to face once you step through those doors. You absolutely refuse to die on this hill, not when you haven’t even had your first kiss yet.

“I don’t think we’ll die,” Namjoon says, as if he can read your mind. You look at him skeptically.

“You think?”

He clears his throat. “I can’t promise we’ll come out of this unscathed, though.”

He takes a tentative step forward, the pile of dishes wobbling dangerously on their perch. You are quick to steady the leaning tower of Disa(ster), managing to transfer half of it into your own arms. You grunt, adjusting your stance so that you do not accidentally lose your grip. “Dude. How the hell did you get all those plates out here in the first place?”

Namjoon stands up straighter, the weight significantly easier for him to manage now. He smiles cherubically back at you, eyes crinkling cutely. “Oh, I was literally on survival mode and trying to stop lil Mrs. Sun from gnawing my leg off. The elders can smell fear you see, so they were definitely going to climb on top of me like World War Z and probably kill me.” He pauses, deep in thought. “Although, I think I dropped a plate or two while I was escaping, so watch your step!”

He says all of that with the same eagerness as man who is about to do something crazy, like jump out of a plane or walk a tightrope over a 100 ft canyon. Though, you have to admit that this entire scenario feels like it is on the same calibre.

“Is it me, or are the old people here 10 times crazier than I remember when I volunteered here?”

“You used to work here?” Namjoon says, amazed. “Oh, I didn’t know that! I only started a week ago when some other person resigned due to mental health issues or something.”

“You sure that this place isn’t the cause of their mental decline?” You say it like a joke, though you mean it seriously. Maybe the universe had been looking out for you when decided to get out of this place.

“Hmm… Maybe. Although, we only received this shipment of old people fairly recently.”

Pause. Rewind. “S-shipment?” you repeat, staring at him wildly.

Like the lovable airhead that he is, Namjoon fails to notice your astonishment and instead takes the first brave step forward through the double doors. He tilts his head towards the hallway, gesturing for you to follow him. The plates rattle dangerously from his movements. “C’mon, we gotta get these plates cleaned before the lunch crew comes to take over their shifts!”

Walking to the kitchen is easier than you thought, especially after you take into account the fact that all the old people completely ignored you and chose to only attack Namjoon, for whatever reason. You like to think that it is because the seniors still remember you back when you were still volunteering here and that they hold some semblance of endearment for you, but Namjoon begs to differ. In fact, he screams out his hypothesis as to why you have been left unharmed, all while two older women climb his back like demented crabs.

“Y/N! I think they can’t attack you because you’re in civilian clothes! They only attack scrubs!” Namjoon says, swatting away one of the women off his back with a surprisingly coordinated headbutt. She shrieks as she falls, landing on all four legs like a cat would do. She hisses lowly at you, before scuttling off to somewhere unseen.

“Let’s hope you’re right,” you wince, watching Namjoon unsuccessfully trying to spin quick enough to dislodge the remaining senior.

Namjoon perks up when he catches a glimpse of his attacker’s face, giggling and appearing as if he isn’t currently being assailed by a senior citizen. “Oh, Ms. Kim! I didn’t see you there. I love the zombie make-up you got going. Who helped you?” He looks at you, as if imploring you to compliment her as well.

“Uh. Yes. You’re looking very… yellow.”

Ms. Kim snarls, baring her teeth. “It’s the jaundice,” she says.

Not wanting to stand in that hallway any longer, you carefully place the plates back on the floor before you gently unclamp the old lady’s talons from Namjoon’s poor biceps. You wince, feeling the length of her nails and knowing that Namjoon is going to have some nasty scars.

You tell him so, but he only shakes his head. “Nah? I think they’d be pretty neat! Battle scars are cool right?”

You grimace at him. “If that’s… what you think, then sure.”

After grabbing your plates and hurrying after him before the elders make note of Namjoon’s survival, the two of you share a sigh of relief as you both slowly start piling them into the dishwasher. The task is menial and repetitive, and despite what Namjoon’s earlier chattiness might have suggested, he is quiet while he works. The silence is not as awkward as you feared, and honestly the peace is a welcome respite after all the chaos that you had to endure in such a short period of time. Although, silence has never been a good friend to your overworked mind, as it allowed you to stew inside your own head for much too long––and you have found in your 20 years of existence that it is probably for the best that you are not left without external stimulation for too long.

But here you are, forced to do exactly that. You would have engaged in some conversation with Namjoon to stop yourself from getting in over your head, but you are afraid of what sort of embarrassing topics might spew out of your mouth if you do. Heaven forbid that you start geeking out on him about your unhealthy obsession of collecting miniature glass horse figurines––that is a secret best kept between yourself and the tentacle monster under your bed.

You begin reflecting on the events from the past two weeks, replaying them second by agonizing second and ruminating on the state that your pitiful young adult life has become. The more you allow these memories to simmer, the more you slowly realize the weight of the accumulated stress that has long since made you hunch over like a goblin.

Hoseok and Jimin’s argument comes to the forefront of your mind, the unexpected heat coming from both of them confusing you to no end. You still don’t know the source of their ire towards one another, but what baffles you the most is how you could have missed it in the first place. Sure, you had thought they were at least more than acquaintances; one does not simply challenge a near stranger to a dance off in the middle of a library three times a week, for more than two months and counting. Friends might have been a stretch, though you can’t say you’re familiar with how their schedules look like outside your tutoring sessions together.

The question is though… should you interfere? Normally, you would have stayed far away from anyone else’s drama––you just aren’t the type of person to stick their noses in other people’s business. Yet somehow, you feel as if your poem was the catalyst to this violent chain reaction, that you have inadvertently caused the foundation of a precarious building to explode and bring the whole thing crashing down. To think that your silly love poem for a boy who hardly knows that you exist has become the center of so many people’s lives… the entire thing is giving you a headache.

Speaking of headaches… you should probably confront Namjoon about the poem as well. It is probably best that you plan your approach better this time, seeing as how your two previous attempts have been anything but stellar. Namjoon can’t be that difficult to convince, right? And even if he does see right through you, he doesn’t seem like the type of person who would laugh cruelly at you in the event that he figures out that you are the author. Not like Seokjin, at least. Luckily no one is like Seokjin, the fucking rat bastard that he is.

(In the distance, Seokjin has the sudden animalistic urge to slip anthrax in your milk tea the next time he sees you.)

You glance at Namjoon from the corner of your eye, definitely not ogling the way his arms flex as he loads the final couple of plates. The breath catches in your throat when you realize that some time while you were busy swimming in your junkyard of a brain, he had rolled up his sleeves up to his forearms, displaying his god-like veins for the eyes of the deplorable (you) to feast upon.

Your mouth feels dry, even though other parts of you feel more moist than you remember. Oh god, now is not the time to remember how hot this fucking nerd is.

Despite the fact that your biological clock is screaming “HORNY HOUR” at your monkey brain, Namjoon continues to be thankfully unaware of your internal panic. He closes the dishwasher door shut, clicking it on with a relieved sigh. He gives you a megawatt smile and makes your heart leap into a somersault, probably knocking around some vital organs along the way.

“Thanks so much for the help, Y/N! Couldn’t have done it without you!” he cheers, clapping you roughly on the shoulder. You wheeze under the impact, waving away his concern despite feeling like your lungs have probably slipped out of your asshole.

“It’s no problem, Namjoon…” you sigh, gazing sadly as Namjoon begins to do a final sweep of the kitchen before inevitably going to sign off for the day. You know your window of opportunity has already closed, and if you had not spent so much time staring at his beautiful man tiddies, you are sure you could have been a little more productive with him. Curse him and his damn chest.

But now, at least you’ll have more time to think of how to approach him and bring up the poem when you aren’t, like, seriously decaffeinated and on the cusp of a heart attack. You are about to bid him farewell with your tail between your legs when his hands cup your cheeks, catching you off guard.

You splutter incomprehensibly, arms flapping about like a fish out of water. “Wha––?”

“Oh, I forgot to mention! After my hours here at the senior home, I have the afternoon shift at the daycare center near our university and I was wondering if you’d like to come with me?”

If Namjoon’s cool, large hands holding your face like a delicate flower had caught you off guard, then his sudden invitation only exacerbated the furious blush blooming across your neck like a rash.

So what do you say?

“Meep,” is what you say, like the verbose poet that you are. Y/N, renowned campus poet, has the vocabulary of a five year old.

“Is that a yes?” Namjoon smiles, letting go off you in favor of looping his gangly arms around your waist. Another unflattering noise escapes your throat at his proximity and his firmness. “That’s so great! The kids love seeing new faces, and I bet they’d love to have a pretty girl around instead of plain ol’ me all the time!”

You gape at him. Did he just say…

“P-pretty?”

“Yea, sure!” Namjoon says, his stupid grin still on his stupidly handsome face. He does not appear to be embarrassed at all by his brazenness, which is starting to make you think he is either a well-seasoned flirt or just plain oblivious to the implications of his own words. Knowing him, you wouldn’t put it past him that the latter might be the reason.

Compliments and unintentional flirting aside, you really did not feel up to another harrowing experience with Namjoon at one of his other volunteering stunts. You are but a woman in clown shoes, and even the most seasoned clowns must have their rest.

“Listen, Namjoon… I don’t think I can go with you. I have to go, uh,” you pause, your hamster brain working a mile a minute. “Water… my dog? No, I mean… feed my plant.” You cringe, mentally slapping yourself.

Namjoon, the sneaky bastard, hits you with his strongest and most potent puppy dog eyes in his arsenal. It was super effective! “Please, Y/N? I won’t take too much of your time! Just play with the kids for two hours and I promise to leave you alone!”

C’mon, Y/N. Focus. Are you the type of woman to break down her defenses for the wilful fancies of any man? You’re made of stronger stuff than this. Surely you can look him in the eye and tell him straight to his face that you would prefer to go home and rest on this beautiful Saturday than go frolicking with a bunch of snot-nosed children––

“Oh, sure. Why the hell not?” you say, like the dumb fucking idiot that you are.

Namjoon’s dimples deepen even further. You glare menacingly at them, knowing full well that they were entirely the cause of your weakness.

“Thank you so much, Y/N! The kids will really appreciate your presence! C’mon, we haven’t got time to lose!”

Namjoon does not even give you the time to fully comprehend your own pitiful existence before he nearly tugs your arm out of its socket as he maneuvers you to the local daycare just a few minutes away from the senior home. You don’t get to say your farewells to any of the seniors or your old work colleagues, but it might be for the best… You will need all the sanity left in your body to survive the rest of the day with Namjoon.

On the bright side, that means you’ll have the chance to talk to him about the poem, though you’re still hesitant to do so with how badly your previous stunts had ended up. But then again, when else would you get another good opportunity to talk to your crush acquaintance about this? You suppose you’ll just have to wait and see what happens next, and hope for the best.

You have been at the daycare for almost three hours now, and there are still no signs of you ever bringing up the poem. You might as well sign your last will and testament with the macaroni art supplies currently decorating your body, making you look like a morbid pasta dish monster from hell. You hope to god that the sticky stuff all over your skin is just cheese… White, rubbery scented cheese…

“Ain’t this fun?” Namjoon calls out from somewhere, presumably under the mass of ten or so toddlers all climbing him like a tree. You are caught in a state of déjà vu as the children start feasting upon any exposed areas of skin that their kid-sized incisors can find.

You just wanted to talk about the fucking poem for fuck’s sake! Instead, you have to deal with thirty 2-foot children and one 6-foot manchild during one of your only free days in a week.

A miniature demon tugs your sleeve, forcing you to tear your eyes away from Namjoon’s slow demise. You bend down to the little gremlin’s height, mouth twitching upwards in what you hope is a somewhat decent smile. Judging by the kid’s unimpressed face, you doubt it.

“Yes?”

“Miss Y/N? Can you tell your boyfriend that Jake peed in the ballpit again? Aera slipped on the puddle and now she’s crying and disturbing the younger kids.”

Record scratch, freeze frame. Now, we don’t have time to unpack all of that. Out of all the things the kid had said, you are sure that his implication that you were Namjoon’s girlfriend should not have been on the top of your list of priorities, and yet here you are, your cheeks as flushed as a baboon’s ass.

“He’s not––We’re not––” you stammer, waving your hands as you try to explain to this unenthused six year old that what she said was entirely impossible. “Namjoon is just a friend!”

You turn to look for the man in question, desperate for him to back you up when you realize he is no longer there. Confused, you leave the huffing child in search for him. You leave the main playroom and search the nearby nurseries, the kitchen, the bathroom… all of them with no Namjoon in sight. Just so you can cover all your bases, you decide to check one of the supply closets too, not really expecting to find anything except––

“Namjoon? What the fu––fudge?” You quickly correct yourself, noticing that not only is Kim Namjoon inside the cramped broom closet, but he is also surrounded by five other children huddled around what appears to be a series of tupperwares connected together by plastic straws.

Namjoon hastens a glance at you, before refocusing his attention back onto what he deems to be more important. He nudges his shoulder against the smallest of the bunch, stage whispering into her ear. “Jihyo, did you bet the three lollipops on Ant #3?”

Jihyo shakes her head, looking mildly offended. “Oppa, do you think I’m dumb? I bet all of my chocolate bars on Ant #6.”

Namjoon whistles lowly, impressed. “All-in? You’re one smart lady.”

You clear your throat. “Namjoon.”

Namjoon has the audacity to hold a finger up to silence you. “Give me a sec… Okay, Seungcheol. You said ten hard candies for Ant #2?”

“Namjoon. Are you seriously running a gambling ring in a daycare?”

He peers up at you, smiling sheepishly. “I’m, uh… Teaching them about capitalism.” He deposits the candy bets into his pocket before starting the timer on his phone. The children begin to cheer raucously, little fists pumping up as they watch their bets race towards a slice of cake.

“I can’t believe this,” you groan, wanting nothing more than the earth to swallow you whole.

Eventually, Namjoon exits the closet, gently closing the door. The shouts of the children become muted immediately. When you gaze inquisitively at him, all he does is shrug his shoulders. “What? Secret clubs allow people to explore their interests.”

At this point, you don’t really want to argue anymore. And so, the hectic day goes by, full of running after the children and occasionally having to reel Namjoon in when he does something bordering on negligence. The parents slowly start filtering in by five in the afternoon, most of whom pat Namjoon affectionately on the back and thanking him for his stellar daycare service.

“Oh, Namjoon! My little Jihyo absolutely adores you! She hardly wants to leave whenever I come to pick her up.” Jihyo’s mother smiles, slipping a small tip into Namjoon’s waiting palm. The little shit pockets it, bowing graciously at her.

“All in a day’s work, madame. I just love children, you know?” he says, sighing dramatically.

From behind her mother, Jihyo gorges herself on her prize winnings, shoving a whole packet of M&M’s into her mouth. She swallows them quickly when her mother turns to bring her home.

“I hate this,” you say to yourself, smiling through the pain.

“Oh, before I forget!” Jihyo’s mother dashes back inside, startling you. She approaches you, grasping your hands in hers and shaking it wildly until you can hear your joints pop out of their sockets. “Your name is Y/N right? Thank you for taking care of Namjoon, too. It’s so nice to see that he’s finally snagged a girl as pretty as you.”

It is a testament to how dead inside you truly are by how nonplussed you are by their unfounded accusation. At this point, they could congratulate you on your recent engagement to Namjoon and you probably wouldn’t bat an eye.

“Thanks.” All in a day’s work of being a madman’s little bitch for the day.

After the last child is taken away, your Saturday finally ends. There had been no poem discussion and no progress made; only your respect from one of your long-time crushes being whittled away like the soaps on those ASMR channels until you are left with useless cubes of Irish Spring scented granules.

On your way home, you pass by Seokjin sitting languidly on the bench outside the coffee shop that you had originally intended to go to this morning. The closed sign greets you impetuously, and your wounds are salted further by the sheer presence of the most annoying man on the planet.

Seokjin sips on his venti iced Americano, Gucci sunglasses tipped downward on his nose. An odd, high pitched windshield wiper sound escapes his lips, and you belatedly realize that he must be his version of laughter. “Y/N. So nice to see you. I’m guessing that you just came out of a… fishy affair?”

You grind your teeth, flexing forward with the intent of hitting the rat bastard. Fish crackers fall out of your hair in clumps from your movement. “I’ll eat your toes if you say another word about this.”

You say that, but you know that there will be photos of you out on Facebook by the time your head meets your pillow for the night, as you hear the telltale sound of a camera shutter go off as you limp sadly back home.

The following Monday, you resolve to talk to Namjoon during your History of Music class together.

Now normally, you would never subject yourself to sitting near Namjoon in class. No, it is not because of your debilitating crush, nor his eccentric personality, nor something unexpected like insanely toxic body odor (which he does not have, by the way. He always smells alarmingly like cotton candy.) In fact, nobody likes to sit near Namjoon, made apparent by the two row radius of empty chairs around him. As much as everyone adores and idolizes him for his talent, no one can stand his propensity to overachieve like the infuriating know-it-all that he is. His hand is perpetually up in the air, begging to be picked for recitation, always with something profound to say.

“Sir, I don’t think your notes are correct. From my research, that type of music would not have existed until the 1600s––”

“Namjoon,” your professor seethes, Powerpoint clicker clutched tightly in his fists. His left eyebrow twitches concerningly as he tries to calm his breathing. “I would prefer it greatly if you do not question the actual expert in this area, is that okay with you?”

Yeah. He is definitely not someone you’d want to sit beside.

Though, he really makes it hard not to want to be around him. Despite all the imperfect parts of his personality, Namjoon always looks like the cover model of what a perfect college boyfriend should dress like. Terrible dyejob aside, his hair is slicked back in a fashionable way, revealing his beautiful forehead for all of humanity to behold. He is wearing a fitted graphic tee under a denim jacket, with loose brown slacks that look good on his endlessly long legs. To top it off, his signature wire-frame glasses sit daintily on his nose, making him appear as smart as he is.

You are suddenly reminded of the true scale of your crush on him as sweat begins to build on your neck and down your backside. How the hell are you going to approach him now that you are perfectly aware of how good he looks? It is people like Kim Namjoon that remind you of this universal truth: attractive people only exist to cause the less fortunate to forget how to use their basic motor skills.

Focus. Remember how much of a crackhead he was last Saturday? Okay, retain that information. Remember how fucking stupid he is, and this will be much easier on your heart and your loins.

Taking a deep breath, you make your way to where he is seated, right at the front of the class. It is a long way down the auditorium to where he is, and you can feel the stares of a few of your classmates as you make the treacherous journey right into the proverbial lion’s maw. You do your best to ignore them, quietly sliding up next to him and waiting for him to notice your presence.

From the corner of your eye, you can see that he is jotting something frantically on a notebook, a mess of words in more languages than you can speak decorating every available space on the smooth white pages. At the top of the paper, you can see what might be a tentative title for a song, perhaps? You can’t be too entirely sure, as Namjoon is part of so many clubs and organizations that he might as well be writing next week’s lunch menu for the cafeteria.

(Highly doubtful as Namjoon has a reputation for allowing inflammable things to catch on fire, but you wouldn’t put it past him to at least try and apply for a culinary position.)

It seems that Namjoon is too immersed in his writing to greet you himself, so you have to be the one to steel yourself and strike a conversation with him instead.

“Uh. Hey… Namjoon?” Smooth like butter. Seokjin would be proud.

Namjoon doesn’t reply. He keeps scribbling along, humming something indistinct under his breath.

You clear your throat. “Namjoon?”

No response. Again, “Hello?” You wave a hand in front of his face. His blinking slows for a second, but he continues to ignore you.

Starting to get pissed off, you huff quietly to yourself before bringing your palm backwards and slapping him upside the head. “HEY PANINI HEAD! YOU FUCKING IN THERE OR WHAT?”

That manages to bring him out of his headspace, thankfully. “Huzzat?” Namjoon jumps, cradling the back of his neck gingerly as he stares at you, confused. Recognition filters through his eyes as he realizes belatedly what had just happened. He blushes slightly. “Oops.”

“Oops is right. Were you really going to ignore me for the rest of the class if I hadn’t slapped you?”

Namjoon shrugs, grinning in that cute goofy way that he does. “Sorry. ‘M not used to people sitting beside me, is all. Glad to have a friend in this class though! Have you always been in this class?”

“Yea, but I usually sit in the back.”

Namjoon nods, turning back to his notebook. “Sorry for ignoring you. I really didn’t mean it. When I’m in the middle of writing, it’s kind of hard to get me out of my own brain. Plus, this draft is due in two weeks and I’ve scrapped three pages worth of lyrics already… I’m kind of in a panic right now.”

You peek over his arm, trying your best to decipher some of his words. Your interest is piqued, always having wanted to see his draft notebook ever since that first time he showed you Moonchild almost a year ago. “Lungs have capsized… I am drowning in my own body… Wow, those are some dark stuff.”

“You think so?” Namjoon squints at his own messy handwriting. “I got inspired by the fish in the aquarium I volunteer in. I’m actually excited to go back there, because I want to play it for the fish and see if they like it.”

“Isn’t it better to play it at the daycare of senior home so you can actually get… human feedback?”

Namjoon gasps, hand to his heart, offended. “How dare you assume that fish can’t give quality feedback!”

“Right,” you cough, raising your hands in defeat. How dare you, indeed. “Sorry.”

Namjoon sniffs, closing his notebook just as the professor walks in to start the class. “You better be. The fishies get really offended when people say stuff like that.”

The professor begins the moment he sets down his things, so you know you won’t have time to bring up the poem, not when Namjoon is already starting to fall into his overachieving know-it-all student persona. You tap him lightly on the shoulder, gaining his attention.

“Hey, I have to ask you something later after class. Will you stay behind for a few moments?”

“Sure,” Namjoon replies cheerily, flipping on his laptop to start taking down notes. He stops in his tracks before gazing warily at you. “Hold on. If this is about the fishies again…”

You have to resist the urge to roll your eyes, so you sigh instead. “No, Namjoon. This isn’t about the fishies.”

Appeased, Namjoon returns to listening attentively to the professor drone on about dead musicians and their impact on musical culture. You hardly take any notes, still nervous about talking to Namjoon about the poem. What would be the best way to approach the subject, you wonder? Your previous attempts with Seokjin and Hoseok had featured a lot of yelling and arguing, and you would prefer not to leave a bad impression on Namjoon of all people. Additionally, you don’t want to know what arguing with Namjoon would entail, because you have a strong feeling that any debate with him will only leave you second guessing your entire existence with how good he is at flipping the subject. Or, you could always kick him in the knees, but that would be like overpowering a baby––you’d be a monster for taking advantage of him.

The short one hour lecture flies by quicker than you would like. To your surprise, Namjoon only interrupts the professor twice, so you suppose that’s a win for everyone else.

“Alright class. Please remember that the research paper regarding 17th century music is due on the Friday before your break,” your professor says. He points a stern look at all of you, and maybe you’re imagining it, but somehow you feel like he pauses just a second longer when he passes his gaze over you. “And please, try not to send your paper to the entire student body to air your secret little crushes like a bunch of lovestruck idiots.”

Your ears turn an unflattering shade of red as most of the students chuckle at his little joke, all of them probably not knowing that the lovestruck idiot was just a few seats away.

“C’mon, Namjoon.” You sigh, shrugging on your backpack as you wait for him to finish packing up. Namjoon watches you curiously, brows furrowed.

“You seem dejected. Are you having trouble with class? Is that what you wanted to talk about?”

“N-not… not really,” you say, shaking your head. “Can we talk about this outside? People for the next class are starting to come in.”

Namjoon follows you dutifully from behind, and you can hear him bid his farewells to a few giggling freshmen as the two of you exit the lecture hall. They coo openly in his presence, with one of them bold enough to compliment his fairly generous bosom, her fingers twitching as if she is only one push away from grabbing them by the fistful.

You walk towards the small cafe near the entrance of the building, grabbing one of the empty chairs and gesturing for Namjoon to sit across from you. He does as you say, confusion still gracing his handsome features.

“So, will you tell me why you’ve called me out here now?” Namjoon asks. Before you can respond, however, he reaches into his backpack and pulls out a half squished sandwich. He offers you the less crushed half, like the gentleman that he is, but you find it hard to accept when you feel like your stomach is turning inside out with nerves.

“Umm… How do I say this…” You groan, leg bouncing so incessantly that the poor table begins to shake. Namjoon doesn’t even try to stop his other sandwich half from sliding over, instead giving you a concerned glance.

Fuck it. Better to rip the band-aid off in one swoop, right?

“Y/N––?”

“Namjoon, are you aware that people think someone wrote a stupid love poem about you?”

His previously open mouth clamps shut, then. He stares at you in confusion, a dollop of mayonnaise hanging off his jutting chin. “What?”

Panicking slightly, you’re quick to continue your train of thought, probably to your own detriment. “NOT that the poem is about you, by the way. Well, it could be? No? I DIDN’T WRITE IT!” Pause for heavy breathing. “A-anyway, that’s not the point… I just wanted to ask if you were… umm… aware of it. Yeah. That’s it.”

Ohhhh my god. You stupid idiot. Fuck fuck fuck fuck you fucking stupid piece of shit ass tit fuck what other swear words are there oh yeah FUCK!!!

In the midst of your personal mental beatdown, you fail to see Namjoon’s genuine look of confusion, his head tilted to the side as he watches your face turn red. He chews on his sandwich thoughtfully. “Uh? No? I’m not aware? I really have no idea what you are talking about, Y/N.”

You finally stop swearing at yourself. “Wait, really?”

Namjoon nods his head. “Really. What poem are you talking about?”

“Please tell me you’re joking. I don’t really like being teased; I get enough of that from Seokjin.”

“No, I’m serious!” Namjoon raises his hands in surrender. “I wouldn’t joke about something that is clearly giving you distress.”

“It’s not causing me distress!” You screech back, voice cracking from your tone going up a pitch. You clear your throat. “Um. Wait. So that means you haven’t heard about the huge rumor going around about a love poem being about you?”

He shrugs his shoulders, lips pursed. “Not a clue. Am I supposed to?”

Huh. You stare at the imbecile before you, his previously handsome looks starting to look less appealing by the minute. Is this shithead for real? Did you really spend hours worrying over how you would approach him about the poem, only to find out that he has no clue what you’re talking about? Like, how is it even possible for him not to know? You can’t even spend a minute doing anything without someone bringing up that stupid mistake of a poem. How the hell did you ever have a crush on him?

“Pardon? Did you say crush something?”

“Oh shit,” you curse, slapping a palm to your mouth. Did you fucking say that out loud?  

“Sorry,” Namjoon swallows thickly, a large bite of his sandwich visibly going down his gullet. “I was chewing too loudly so I didn’t hear you properly.”

You heave a sigh of relief. Okay, maybe being an idiot has its benefits.

“It’s fine. It wasn’t anything important,” you say, already arranging your things to get up and leave. If Namjoon is oblivious to all the poem shenanigans that have been circling campus, then who are you to inform him? All you can hope now is that he remains ignorant of the poem at all, and chalk it up as a success in your book. It’s not like he’s going to be curious to find out more anyway––

“Wait! Don’t go! You’ve piqued my interest now. I wanna know what you were talking about,” Namjoon pipes up, leaning his lanky body sidewards so as to block you from leaving. You halt in your movements, surprised by his sudden inquiry.

Sweat starts to form in the middle of your back at his earnest curiosity. “I––it’s nothing, Namjoon. I was just messing with you. Don’t worry about it.” You laugh nervously.

“I don’t think you were?” Namjoon rubs his chin thoughtfully. “You wouldn’t have been so adamant to call me out here just to be joking.”

“Listen, I really have to go. I have another class soon and I wanna grab lunch before I––”

“You said something about a poem.” He remains undeterred, pulling out his phone. “And it’s about me? Well, not about me, if that’s what you’re saying…”

“Hold up!” You snatch his phone out of his hands, holding it behind you to keep it from his reach. Even though you know his inquisitiveness is not his fault, it doesn’t stop you from wanting to punch him square in his cute little nose. Hell, you don’t recall wanting to fight anyone as much as you do right now.

(Seokjin sneezes somewhere in the distance, feeling offended for whatever reason. “Y/N should only be punching me,” he thinks to himself as he dumps way too much purple dye on this poor lady’s head.)

“Why are you being so weird right now? Give me back my phone!” He pouts at you, not at all knowing that your resolve is already quickly crumbling before him.

“I…” You gulp, foot tapping restlessly as you try to think of what to do. “Okay. Fine, I’ll show you the poem. Just… don’t read too deeply into it, okay? It’s just a stupid thing that got too many people excited over nothing.”

“Sure,” Namjoon nods his head, acquiescing quickly. “I don’t really like paying attention to much of the rumors and trends that happen on campus. I just want to see what this poem is all about.”

“Just… don’t let it get to your head,” you mutter, returning his phone to him. You direct him to the university confessions group page, watching as his fingers fumbled with his keyboard. Eventually, he gets to the post (pinned to the top, forever mocking you for your stupidity) and reads the short piece in record time.

There is a pause where neither of you speak. You know he has finished reading it from the way he has started to scroll down to the comments, though he quickly jumps back to the top when you glare at him to stop. He leans back into his chair, closing his phone and stares at you expressionlessly.

You click your nails across the coffee shop table as you observe him suspiciously, his lack of response making you more nervous. “Well?”

The left side of his mouth quirks up––but not in a way that might suggest glee or satisfaction––and he stays frozen like that for a bit. You have the sudden urge to wave your hand in front of him to check if he’s fine, and being the type of person to submit to your urges, you do as you please.

Thankfully, he snaps out of it, blinking quickly as if he’s forgotten that you were there. He scratches the back of his neck, embarrassed. “Oh, yeah. The poem, uh… How do I put it…”

“What?” What on earth could he have a problem with? Does he genuinely think the poem might be about him? “If you’re starting to think that the poem may be about you––”

“No, no, that’s not it.” Namjoon opens his phone again, peering at the poem questioningly. “I was just going to say that this poem is a lot less impressive than you were hyping it up to be.”

Excuse me??????? He did not fucking just say that.

“You did not just fucking say that,” you verbalize, glowering at him. You can feel the fumes start to steam out of your ears, but Namjoon remains oblivious (as per usual) to your emotions. He just hums, shrugging his shoulders with his nose upturned in the air, as if he had just smelled something horrible.

“It’s just… the meter is all messed up… Like, I’m all about free verse or whatever, but I can tell the author is trying waaaay too hard to keep whatever rhythm they had going on in the first verse.” He scrolls through the poem some more, before stopping somewhere in the middle. He shows you one of your favorite verses with a look of something akin to disdain. “And what’s up with all the moon references? That theme is so overused.”

“YOUR MIXTAPE LITERALLY HAS A SONG CALLED MOONCHILD! THAT’S WHY PEOPLE THINK THE POEM IS ABOUT YOU!” You explode, spittle flying everywhere from the force of your shout. A group of freshmen sitting nearby jump up in surprise, though most of the older, more dead-eyed college students do not even bat an eye at your spectacle. This university is full of cuckoos, is what they are probably thinking.

The biggest cuckoo of them all looks at you defensively, frowning somewhat irritably. Namjoon continues, “Yeah, but I used the moon in my song in a classy way! I would be offended if someone would write this poem for me after being inspired by my song.”

Is it possible for blood to boil inside your veins? Because you’re really starting to feel heat trail up your back up to your neck, causing you to see nothing but red and the tantalizing vision of your hands around his neck. Easy, Y/N. You can’t afford anger management therapy; you have a tuition to pay.

In all seriousness though, you cannot take this any longer. You have suffered long enough while having to follow Namjoon around like a bitch for two days, and if karma still wants to use the strap on you, then she’s going to have to do it some other day because you cannot physically stand being around Namjoon for another ten seconds if you can help it. And this is coming from someone who is around Kim Seokjin at least twice a week, so it is obvious that your patience and sanity is truly at its limit.

“I’m done.” You are barely able to keep yourself from slamming your head against the table. Instead, you stand up hastily, chair legs screeching against the tiled floor. You shoulder your bag quickly, waving at him without even turning to face him. The sooner you get away from him, the better. “You can think what you want. Just live your life, man. I’m done.”

“Okay? Well, have a nice day, Y/N!” Namjoon calls out a cheery goodbye, though his tone obviously still sounds confused even as you walk further and further away from him, a trainwreck of a human being. You resolve to yourself to call Hana the next morning to ask her to slip some opened sweets into his jean pocket so the ants at the daycare might climb out of their shelter to bite him in the balls.

How did you ever have a crush on that bastard? I guess that mystery will have to remain… unsolved.

Unluckily, your mood does not improve after lunch, nor do you calm down after your next class either. In fact, you are still steaming when you arrive to your tutoring session with Hoseok, so much so that you have completely forgotten to be worried about him after the events of last Friday.

(Record scratch, freeze frame. Pause. What the hell happened last Friday again? Your overworked brain cells can only handle one stressful event at a time, so you suppose that problem with Hoseok and Jimin will have to be solved another day.)

Hoseok, the caring boy that he is, also forgets to retain his moodiness from Friday’s argument when he spots you looking like you were about to pop a blood vessel at any moment.

Hoseok sits hesitantly in front of you, even placing his textbooks gently onto the table as if any sudden sounds might cause you to self-combust and splatter your guts all over the library floor. The only thing really keeping you from doing exactly that is because you wouldn’t want poor Jungkook the library assistant to have to clean up your mess.

“Umm… Hey, Y/N. You okay? You look kind of… red.” Hoseok says carefully, smile twitching on his face.

The suddenness at which you slam your hands on the table causes not only Hoseok, but also Jungkook who is three whole bookshelves away, to jump up in surprise. The former makes a terrified scream to accompany his leap into the air, staring at your frantically with his fists held up in defense.

“AHH? Y/N, what’s going on––”

“SHUT UP!” You point a finger menacingly at him, making him shriek once more. Your jaw is clenched, teeth grinding audibly. “YOU FUCKING KNOW WHAT, HOSEOK? I’LL WRITE THE NICEST POEM IN THE ENTIRE WORLD FOR YOU, OKAY? YOU DESERVE IT! FUCK WHAT ANYONE ELSE THINKS! I’M A GOOD WRITER AND NOTHING KIM NAMJOON SAYS WILL CHANGE THAT!”

Hoseok’s mouth opens, agape. He doesn’t know how to respond, not quite understanding what you were saying in the first place. A lot of angry words spilled from your lips in such a short amount of time, and Hoseok was more impressed with your flow than anything. Were you a rapper, by any chance?

Unaware of Hoseok’s musings, you huff loudly to yourself, slamming open your lecture notes and shoving them aggressively towards him. “ALSO, I TOOK THE LIBERTY OF WRITING A REVIEWER FOR YOUR MIDTERM! PLEASE READ THROUGH THEM IF YOU HAVE ANY QUESTIONS!”

“Umm… Thanks?” Hoseok says, not really sure which part of your loud declarations he is specifically thanking you for. He sneaks a glance at the front desk, thankful that it is only meek little Jungkook in charge today and not the cranky older librarian who already has a personal vendetta against you and your tutoring group for being public nuisances (not that she was unjustly pointing fingers, of course).

Your mental collapse aside, the rest of his tutoring session goes smoothly, with Hoseok still walking on eggshells around you just in case you might feel like exploding again. You know, for fun or something. Although, he does end up asking if he can leave a few minutes early, saying something about a paper due at the end of the week. The excuse doesn’t make you bat an eye until Jimin arrives for his own session, his grin faltering when he sees his hyung not there to greet him with their usual dance battle in the library.

“Ah… Guess Hoseok-hyung really is still mad over what happened…” Jimin sighs, slumping into his chair. He thumbs his textbook thoughtfully, tongue sticking out like a puppy.

“I’m sure it’ll blow over soon,” you say hopefully, though your heart isn’t quite in it either. Coughing awkwardly, you pluck his textbook out of his hands, desperate to talk about something else other than your crumbling interpersonal relationships. You pause at the page, however, before staring incredulously back at Jimin.

“Jimin.”

“Hmm?” Jimin is still listless, head pillowed by his arms on the table. “What?”

“This is a book on differential calculus. I’m supposed to teach you about writing academic essays.”

“Oh yeah,” Jimin sighs, closing his eyes. “I stole that book from some freshman on the way here. The English textbook I usually bring is with Taehyung right now.”

You pause. Actually, now that you think about it… “Jimin, do you actually even go to this university? What the hell is your major, even?”

“Wha-?” Jimin yawns, fanning his mouth with his hand. He blinks sleepily at you with a big, doofy grin. “Sorry, I played MapleStory for hours last night and I haven’t gotten much sleep. Can I just sleep during this session? I’ll still pay you or whatever…” he trails off, stretching like a cat under a patch of sunlight. Before you know it, the soft sound of Jimin’s snoring fills the silence.

Thankfully, Monday ends without much more commotion. You may have come out of this experience a little bit more broken inside, but hey! That’s what character development is all about, babey. You are just glad that Tuesdays are usually your quietest days, as you only have two classes to worry about. It is also one of the days when you have Creative Writing with Sera, who usually manages to rope you in to get greasy fast food after class. Despite the traumatic experience that particular class has indirectly inflicted upon you, your usual zeal and excitement does not diminish in the slightest. After all, writing will always be your first love, so there isn’t any way some silly poem mishap will make you detest it.

Hopefully nothing else will go wrong, because you aren’t so sure your sanity can take much more of a pounding.

(Fwip. Do you hear that? That’s the sound of karma putting on her strap.)

“Alright class, see you guys on Thursday. Don’t forget that we have a quiz at the beginning of class on Thursday, so please don’t be late.” Professor Puth says, his eyelids blinking out of sync. You hate to be someone who assumes what other people do during their off days as it is none of your business, though the perpetual cloud of marijuana that clings around him can only do so much to mask what his recreational activities might be.

“Dude, I think Prof Puth is finding Nirvana soon,” Sera says loudly, earning the giggles of a few classmates nearby.

“I’d be surprised if he could even find the exit of this building,” you snort, just as the man in question trips over air and nearly faceplants on the ground. Like the model students that you are, you both pretend to be busy doing something else, leaving some other poor soul to help your professor.

Two girls that you vaguely remember from somewhere approach Professor Puth. They are quick to help him straighten up, if his groaning and gasping are anything to go by. He thanks them gruffly and waves them off, but the girls seem adamant to stay put.

“Professor, I have a question…” One of the girls asks, nervously tugging on her ponytail. Her friend giggles surreptitiously beside her, urging her to continue. Their odd demeanor causes signals to go off in your brain, telling you to stop and listen. You tug on Sera’s hand, halting her from leaving.

“Wait. I wanna hear what they’re gonna ask,” you mutter, ignoring Sera’s complaints about being hungry. She can wait for her McNuggets for another five minutes, no matter how much she pretends that she’s starving. You had seen her eat two whole burritos before coming into class today.

Professor Puth raises his brow. “Yes? What do you need?”

“We were just wondering if you could… tell us anything about the identity of the author from that poem?” The girl manages to get all of it out in a rush, cheeks flushed as her friend nods fervently beside her.

“Yea, Prof! We’ve been dying to know! The suspense is killing us, knowing that the mystery author is in one of your classes!” The other girl continues, glittery excitement practically exuding out of her in waves.

Professor Puth sighs, leaning heavily on his desk. He appears about as done as you feel. “Listen… You can badger me all you want, but there’s no way I can tell you. Privacy laws prevent us from sharing information like that without prior consent, even though that student in question might have accidentally sent her assignment to the entire school.” You might be imagining it, but you think Professor Puth points you with a knowing look. You gulp, hastily bowing your head and pretending to fiddle with your phone.

“Aww, Prof! It’s been days and the university hasn’t shut up about it! Surely one of the theories on who the author and muse are must be true, right? You can tell us that, at least.”

You can’t bear to keep listening any longer, though Sera has started to become more interested in the conversation as it progressed. “Wait, wait… I wanna hear the Prof’s opinion,” she says, grinning despite your nails digging crescents into her arm as you try to pull her away.

“No can do! Remember, I have your freshman Halloween pictures saved on a harddrive, and you wouldn’t want me to accidentally send that to the entire student body as well, would you?”

That manages to snap her out of it. Quickly, the two of you leave the lecture hall and away from possible discovery by your poem-frenzied classmates. You are also relieved to be able to breathe in fresh air once more, after being stuck in that class surrounded by liberal art students for two hours. You always do feel a little bit more relaxed after class with Puth, although that might just be from all the secondhand drug use.

Perhaps the fumes really did dull your reflexes, as it takes a while before you realize that Sera has been nudging your shoulder.

When you finally glanced at her, there is a sneaky grin on her face: never a good sign. “So,” she begins, a singsong quality in her voice

After having been her friend for long enough, you have become adept at telling what Sera is going to say next. Call it intuition or whatever, but you like to think of it is a self-defense mechanism. As much as she is your friend, she does love digging into your personal life like it is the cover story of some shitty tabloid. You have to prepare yourself to be interrogated.

“You’re going to ask about the poem, aren’t you?”

Sera rolls her eyes, like you shouldn’t have even asked. “Duh, of course I am. What else would I want to talk about?”

You shrug your shoulders, pretending to think. “I don’t know. Maybe you could have asked ‘Hey, Y/N! How’s your mom been? Have you been eating and drinking well?’ You know, like a normal person.”

“Well, firstable, your mom is literally my friend on Facebook and I saw her go out to that bougie high tea place with Jennie’s mom the other day, so I know she’s fine,” Sera says as the two of you round a corner, heading closer to the parking lot where her car is. “And secondable, you don’t fucking drink water, because you like pretending to be a dehydrated piece of jerky.”

“I just like drinking apple juice, okay? Water is weird,” you say defensively, kicking a pebble as you walk.

“Nah, you’re weird,” Sera counters, ever the creative debater. She remains undeterred, however. “So. Any updates on the poem situation or am I going to have tickle the details out of you?”

You groan, pushing her away from your sensitive sides. “Please don’t… I have no upper body strength and I won’t be able to push you off!”

“That’s the point.” Sera laughs, pinching your cheek. She snatches her hand away, only narrowly escapes getting bitten by you. “Why don’t we skip my torture methods then and go straight to the juicy bits? It’s been ages since I’ve seen you!”

“What if nothing has happened since I last saw you?” You grumble, miffed that she really isn’t letting it go. You just want to have one relaxing day, is that too much to ask?

Apparently, it is. Relaxation is a rare commodity these days. Sera snorts, patting you condescendingly on the back. “Nonsense. You’ve got that post-mental breakdown glow around you. You look absolutely radiant with stress!”

The conversations pauses for a bit when you make it to the parking lot. You don’t have to walk too far, as her car is parked relatively close to the exit, which is just another display of how lucky Sera often is in comparison to you. While your unfortunate plebeian ass is busy drowning in shit, Sera is off somewhere aboard a yacht, getting a massage from some Instagram thot.

She hops into the driver’s seat, waiting for you to put your seatbelt on before backing out with one hand on the wheel. “McDonalds?” she asks, though it is pretty much a given that is where you are going. The last time you both tried diverging from your usual hang out spot, you got intense food poisoning from eating at Chipotle. Sera came out completely fine though, that lucky bitch.

She continues her questions on the drive there, and you relent by telling her most of what has happened to you over the past few days. You gloss over the argument between Hoseok and Jimin, not really wanting their spat to suddenly go viral on Facebook as well. Everything else, however––

“Wait, so you talked to Kim Namjoon? The Kim Namjoon? The Namjoon that you had an embarrassing crush on during our first year?” Sera laughs maniacally, almost driving off into the wrong lane. Luckily, you are quick to latch onto the wheel, saving the two of you from becoming roadkill.

“Watch where you’re going!”

“No, but Y/N! That’s literally so fucking funny!” Sera’s laughter has simmered to a giggle, despite the fact that she is still trying (and failing) to furtively glance your way when you hit a stoplight. “Is he like how you remember? God, do you remember how you were after you first met him? All starstruck because your senpai showed you a draft of his single? ‘Oh, Sera! He has the most amaaaazing flow! I’m going to suck his di––’”

“Shut up!” You whine, slapping her in embarrassment. “Believe me, that crush has died, along with any respect I may have had for him. Men are scum, and I’m going to only date girls from now on.”

“Fine by me! More dick to suck for me, I guess.” Sera teases, whistling innocently. Bold of her to assume that there is any innocent or pure bone in her body; you’ve seen her thirst tweets and no amount of holy water can cure the disease that your vision must have sustained.

“I just want the rumors to die down… It would make my life way more bearable.” You murmur to yourself, sliding down your seat.

Sera is silent for a while. The McDonalds is just within sight, so Sera waits until she has finished parking before she turns to face you fully, uncanny sincerity in her expression. It unnerves you how serious she is, not when you know that this is the same girl who would snort sugar packets if you bet her $5. She places her hands on your shoulder, fixing you with a meaningful look.

“Listen, Y/N. I know all of this is tough right now, but I’m sure it’s going to be alright, okay? The rumor is going to die down soon enough, and everything will be back to normal. Stay strong for now.” Her voice is soothing, sympathy dripping from every word. As mortifying as it is to admit, the tears flow down your cheek effortlessly; perhaps it is the consequence of having to bear this burden on your own for so long without anyone actually telling you that it’s going to be alright.

“Thanks… I think I needed that,” you say after a while, sniffling just a bit. Sera grins fondly at you, wiping your tears.

“No need to thank me. I may be a chaotic shithead, but I’m also your friend.” She unbuckles her seatbelt, gesturing for you to do the same. “C’mon, let’s go in. I’ll even share my nuggets with you.”

Despite her best efforts at comfort, you still feel a little bummed. You allow yourself to wallow in your self-pity for a bit, as McDonalds is a prime location to feel shitty about your life choices anyway. The heart attack inducing food, the barely hygienic facilities, the minimum wage high school employees… Nothing else screamed “I’d rather be dead but it could also be worse” quite like Mickey D’s often did.

You wait by one of the booths while Sera goes off to order for the both of you, leaving you with her phone and other belongings. She promises to let you eat four out of the twenty nugget pieces, which is asking a lot considering who you are dealing with. Sera could probably eat sixty nuggets if she so desired, but only stops herself so she can be physically well enough to continue being a thot. Chasing men all day requires physical fitness, or so she says.

When you go to place her things on the other side of the booth, you notice that Sera had accidentally left her phone unlocked. You can see that she had been previously looking at one of those popular forum sites for your university, where most of her repertoire of gossip is usually sourced from. You aren’t usually the type to frequent those types of pages, with good reason too. That exact forum is the reason of your current stress, where your most private thoughts and feelings were revealed for all to see. Any sort of positive opinion you might have had for that site was immediately dashed the moment that cursed poem was released into the wild.

It kind of pisses you off that Sera still uses that forum despite knowing how much anxiety it has caused you, but then again, there is only so much you can expect from her. Her appetite for drama and chaos is her way of life, her only other hobby aside from writing. You also vaguely recall her saying that she gathers inspiration for her short stories from some of the more outrageous posts made by your fellow schoolmates.

In the end, curiosity gets the best of you as you stare at the open webpage, tantalizing despite the murkiness that lies within. Oh, lighten up. It’s just a confessions page… Besides, you also kind of want to see what people are saying about your poem, and whether the commotion might have died even slightly over time. (Unlikely, but you remain hopeful.)

“Let’s see,” you murmur to yourself, sneaking glances at the counter to see if Sera is close to ordering. She appears to still be next in line to order, so that might give you enough time to read a few of the comments on the post. It doesn’t take you long to find the original post either, since Sera seems to have been perusing the same thing just beforehand.

“Typical Sera...  Sympathetic in the streets, a nosey bitch in the sheets.” You snort, scrolling quickly through the comment section. Nothing seems to be out of the ordinary, except for a few overenthusiastic responses from a couple of people who have bombarded the forum so much that it takes you a few moments to navigate past their thread. You catch a few words here and there, mostly the names of the seven possible muses and not so much the names of any of the possible authors. Honestly, you are more than happy with these turn of events, perfectly content as long as your identity never sees the day where it becomes associated with that disaster piece.

You sort the comments by popularity, wanting to know what everyone’s biggest guesses are. You want to remain hopeful, but as the results start to load, the wave of nausea that suddenly hits you may have been the first warning signal that you should probably stop before you read something that you will regret.

posted by u/SeokjinGod [3d ago]:

[+103, -4] i’m really hoping that kim seokjin is the muse of the poem!! has anyone seen the ads for the new play he’s staring in? he totally looks like the lead actor in a romantic comedy ^^

➾ [+54, -69] psh. that idiot, the muse? PLEASE anyone who has ever worked for kim seokjin KNOWS that it’s physically impossible to form a human connection with that man

➾ [+2, -1] lol seconded

posted by u/namuwuchild [1d ago]:

[+88, -3] WAIT why am i not seeing kim namjoon’s name more often T_T he deserves more love!! stream moonchild or else i’ll bite your ankles

➾ [+1, -6] lol i miss when namjoon used to do actual hiphop… fucking hippie dippie go fuck a tree and some crabs while you’re at it

You sneak a look over your shoulder. Sera is at the front of the line, reciting her orders while the harried employee has to quickly punch in the inordinate amount of food items. Okay… While no one’s looking, time to downvote a couple of these and maybe report some of these assholes… No way in hell are you letting anyone think Moonlight Sonata is about either of those Kim idiots. You would honestly rather out yourself than let anyone think they are worthy of such public displays of love and humiliation.

You are just about to close Sera’s phone and vow never to set foot on social media ever again when the next post catches your eye––the first one where you actually see your name. In fact, your name is generously sprinkled a number of times in this one specific thread.

“Wait a second…” You squint at the top of the thread, reading out the username of the original poster. Is that… Is that your name?!

“User Y/NKook… Oh my god!” You shriek loudly, almost dropping the phone from your sweaty palms. It must be the same person who had organized that merchandise booth in the cafeteria the other week! The number of upvotes on the post isn’t making you feel any better.

posted by u/Y/NKook [3h ago]:

[+98, -5] idk why you noobs are even trying… intellectuals KNOW that y/nkook is real and i won’t take no for an answer… give me my childhood friends to lovers fic RIGHT NOW because this slowburn has been going on for years now and i can’t stand it!!!

➾ [+11, -0] omg op do you know them personally?? how’d you know that they were childhood friends?? i go to the same drama class as y/n and jungkook but they never sit together… are you sure it’s them??

➾ [+20, -1] of course!! they’re even neighbors… besides, haven’t you heard what his nickname is? his friends call him moon eyes for a reason! they say that y/n is the one who gave him that name ^^

You feel your eye twitch, disbelief flooding your senses. Why is this weirdo shipping you with Jungkook? You guys haven’t even spoken properly since elementary school… How does this dude know who you are? Are you being stalked? You whirl your head around, scanning the restaurant for any suspicious people who may or may not be following you. Is this what celebrities feel like when they get shipped with their friends? You feel a sudden surge of respect for them, unable to grasp the situation that you are in. God, you really hope Jungkook hasn’t read any of these.

You go to switch Sera’s phone off, feeling less accomplished than ever before. Maybe it is best to save yourself the anxiety of seeing your world fall apart and try to delude yourself into thinking that the past two weeks have never happened at all. However, there is a certain appeal to reading things that you know you should not, like watching a car crash and unable to look away. The urge to keep scrolling and gaze upon your own personal hell is hard to stop when you have already gained momentum.

“One last post, then I’m done…” You are hard set on that promise, not wanting your apprehension to destroy your peaceful afternoon completely. The next post on the forum greets you with a high upvote number, sending a lick of fear to run down your spine at what you might find. Please don’t be about Y/NKook, you pray helplessly. Little did you know, there are worse things to worry about other than being shipped with your friends.

posted by u/triceratops 👤 [1h ago]:

[+154, -5] hey guys i’m back again with another update! so i’ve managed to shorten the list a bit since last time i posted, and i’m 100% certain that kim seokjin is not the muse! sorry, gamers… our prince is in another castle it seems. worry not, though! that only helps our search better and shortens the list. on the other hand, the authors list has also been edited! turns out that neither jodi nor melody is the author, as they both submitted poems about something else. if you are interested to see the updated lists for both muse and author, please head to my profile and look for the original post titled “Mystery Moon Author & Their Mystery Muse” :-)

You have never clicked on a profile as quickly as you did in that moment. Not even a notification from UberEats could make you move that fast.

Lo and behold, the post that started it all is right at the top of the user’s profile, with the significantly shorter list that they had promised. Sweat begins to build on your temples when you realize that the authors list has decreased to seven names, with your name still obstinately sitting at the end of the lines. When will your suffering end?

There is still something that doesn’t sit right with you, however. As you peruse this user’s profile some more, you feel as if there is something weird about it that you can’t quite place. You never did like using this forum, so maybe you are just not used to the layout of the website? What is it about this user’s profile that is making your stomach coil with nerves?

Wait a second… Why is there an edit button beside their profile picture?

“Y/N! I’m back! Sorry for taking so long; I think I ordered too much again. You’re fine with BBQ sauce on your nuggs, right? That’s all I asked for––” Sera had been happily chirping away, sliding into the bench across from you before finally noticing your stoney face. She pats her face, rubbing her cheeks in confusion. “What? Do I have something on me?”

“How fucking dare you!” You hiss, slamming her phone on the table. Unfortunately, you had accidentally locked the phone in your anger, showing only a black screen.

Sera flinches backwards, bewildered. Her eyes flick to the screen and then to you. “Huh? I thought you liked BBQ sauce on your nuggs? I mean, I can ask for sweet and sour sauce if you want…”

“Unlock your phone right now and explain to me why you have triceratops’ profile logged in.”

Your words begin to click in Sera’s mind. Her face grows pale, her body unconsciously sliding further into the booth to hide from your glare. “U-uh… Haha, what on earth are you talking about..?”

“Don’t even try to lie, Sera. I saw everything, and I honestly don’t know if I’m madder that you betrayed me or that I was stupid enough to believe that you were my friend.”

Sera splutters incomprehensibly at first, waving her arms in panic as she tries to save her ass. “I––! You––! It wasn’t like I––”

You lean forward, peering at her coldly. “Oh yeah? What wasn’t it like? It wasn’t like we were friends?”

“No, of course not! I mean,” she backtracks, tongue-tied. “We are friends! It’s just… I made that post before I knew you were the author and I originally sent the poem to just a couple of people because I was so impressed, and I just wanted to––”

“Hold on,” you interrupt, holding up a finger. She squeaks, staring at you fearfully as you slowly get up to your feet. You cry out, “You were also the one who released my fucking poem to the world?!”

“Anna ou––” Sera whimpers, slapping her palm to her mouth. She lowers it, whispering ruefully. “I… didn’t mean to say that…”

“Oh, so you were meaning to lie to me even more?” You seethe, ready to burst into flames.

The poor McDonalds employee who had come to deliver your order to your table seems too frightened to approach the two of you, her arms shaking both with fear and the weight of five orders of 20 piece chicken nuggets. “Uh, is this a bad time?” The girl asks, eyes darting away from your heated glare.

Instead of answering, you grab the tray from her hands and dump the contents on the table. Sera squawks pitifully when a few of the nuggets fall to the ground, though she absolutely yells when you start chucking them at her head like tiny oily cannonballs.

“What the fuck––Dude stop!” Sera has her arms up in defense, shielding her face from your fiery attack. The sound of you ripping open a BBQ sauce packet has her straightening up, however. “No, not the BBQ sauce! Anything but that!”

“Give me one reason why I should show you mercy.” Your hand is poised to pour the sticky sauce all over her white Valentino bag, ready at a moment’s notice.

“Please, Y/N! I’m really sorry!” Sera jumps out of the booth, and goes on her knees. She clasps her hands together, shaking them frantically. “I really didn’t know it was you at first!”

“Well then, why didn’t you fucking take the post down the moment you did know it was me? I thought you were my friend!” You clench your fist around the BBQ sauce packet, causing some of it to spill onto her bag. She makes a desperate noise.

“I just… I like the attention?” She knows this is the wrong answer, judging by your unimpressed expression. She sighs heavily, head bowed in shame. “Look, I’ll fix this, alright? I genuinely didn’t do this wanting to hurt you… I just got so caught up in the clout that I didn’t really think about what would happen if you found out!”

“‘If’ I found out, huh…” You echo, more disappointed than angry now. You slump back into your chair, taking care to grab the napkins and cleaning the sticky mess on your skin as best as you can. “You really were going to continue doing this for as long as it took, huh?”

“I’m really sorry, Y/N.” Her voice is soft, repentant. It doesn’t do much for your sympathy, however.

“Fuck you, honestly. If you really are sorry, you’ll fix this mess as soon as possible.”

You reach for your bag, your movements jostling a few more nuggets to tumble to the floor. You don’t bother saying goodbye, not wanting to see if Sera is doing her Crying Face Emoji impression to try and soften you up. Not this time. This time… you don’t think your feelings can recover after this.

You have read enough stories about heartbreak and longing, but you don’t think any of them top the experience of losing a friend you realize you never even had.

The next morning, there is a new post on the forum from user triceratops.

posted by u/triceratops 👤 [0s ago]:

[+0, -0] Hello, friends. I think I’ve found the author.

It’s Lee Sera.

[btsismy6thkink]

BTS REACTIONS: You being clumsy

Requested: YES AND THANK YOU FOR THIS BC CUTE AND I LOVE YOU *HAND KISS BACK IN YOUR FACE* 

Disclaimer: fluff and a little angsty but mostly fluff (please read the word fluff with the oo sound in woof much cuter okay…. also this is my favourite i’ve written.

Jin:

Jin was always cooking, and frankly you felt like you didn't deserve him. You should be cooking for him and doing everything else a good wife would do, not being married didn't count in your mind so you decided to do the dishes hoping it would make up for it and for a while it did. You and Jin made jokes, had fun and at one moment you decided that washing the knife he had been using was a good idea. You had cut yourself, by just picking it up. You looked over at Jin thinking if you should say anything but at the blood seemed to keep coming and you felt lightheaded what else could you do?

“Jinnie, my finger is hmm bleeding” you looked at him, him then turning around noticing the blood and rushing to you. “What happened? i thought i had banned you from knives?” “Not the time Jinnie, i don't feel good” you looked at him with almost criss-crossed eyes as he held you and helped you to sit down on the floor against the table, he found the first aid kit quickly seeing as you and Namjoon tend to need it often, then proceeded cleaning up your finger, kissing it then looking at you. “No more knives woman”

Yoongi:

You had been working on a school assignment all day sitting in Yoongi’s studio while he was sitting working on music making you the perfect couple just sitting there not even talk but still enjoying the close proximity. You felt yourself getting hungry and therefor went to get up from the chair accidentally entering a fight between you and the leg of the table you thought you had built a trusting relationship with. “AISH YOU RUDE, UNGRATEFUL BASTARD, YOUR MOM SUCKS!” you yelled this making ‘eye contact’ with the table causing your loving boyfriend to turn around with his gummy smile, “Heeey y/n what did he ever do to deserve that earful?” you looked at him like he was stupid before limping over to the couch and sitting down.

At this point Yoongi seeing you limp had him worried, “ahh I'm sorry”. He walked over to you taking your face into his hands squishing your cheeks together. “i’m so sorry that table sucks, i will throw it out yeah?” you looked at him in disbelief but just nodded to the best of your capability while being locked in-between his hands. He slowly let go of you kisses you softly on the lips and trailing down to your neck kissing it slowly leaving you wanting more only to pull away the slightest bit breathing against it as he let out a soft chuckle. “When i marry you i’m calling you Min Clumsy” you couldn't help but laugh a little, but at the same time being a bit offended but not enough for you to not see the irony in your boyfriend’s words. “Alright Min Butt, i guess both can play that game huh?”

J-Hope:

It was not secret that you were unlucky or some might go for the fraise clumsy, but this was a new high 3 hours ago you went to give you boyfriend some water during dance practice, however that didn't end up happened because as you walked to him you somehow managed to fall, like your whole body just slammed to the floor, leaving you sitting in the hospital with your overprotective boyfriend.

“i’m sorry i laughed, i love you.” He didn't even look at you when saying this, you however kept looking at him “i love you too Hobi, but you got to look at me please and honestly i don't know why i’m here?” He hesitated for a bit turning his face towards you but instead of your eyes meeting her was focused on the space separating your two chairs. “I didn't help you, i laughed, what if you're really hurt, please get checked up on by a doctor” he finally looked at you when you placed your right hand softly on the side of his neck giving him a small peck on his lips. “I probably looked hilarious, and thats why i’m here silly? i feel fine but if you want me to make sure i will”

Namjoon:

It was now 8 hours and 42 minutes since you had last seen your boyfriend, he had been in his studio for this long and not even sent a text as to prove he was alive so you thought it to be a good idea bringing him a cup of tea to relax. After finally making the tea exactly how he likes it you went to his studio knocked six times before finally getting a little come in from the other side of the door. You walked in smiling big as usual and him just pointed to the spot on his table right next to his computer to put down the tea. You sighed but tried doing as told. Tried being the keyword, you went to put down the cup when as you had in your hand was a handle and a screaming boyfriend.

“WHAT THE HELL Y/N? ARE YOU TRYING TO RUIN MY CAREER? I HAVE MOST MY SONGS ON THERE! ARE YOU STUPID, CAN’T YOU DO ANYTHING WITHOUT HAVING TO RUIN SOMETHING?! I..” He stopped yelling the moment he saw a single tear drip down you cheek standing up from his chair and hugging you close to him only to have you start sobbing. You tried getting something out of at this point it sounded more like a bad remix. He pressed you closer to him just to feel your heartbeat, “i’m sorry i yelled, i know it wasn't your fault gorgeous, i guess i should take a break from work then and get my computer fixed” He kissed the top of your head to make you fully believe he wasn't angry anymore. “I love you, Joonie” you whispered knowing only he could hear, “I love you too, but i guess you becoming worse than i am, goddess of destruction” he said the last part letting out a proud chuckle.  

Jimin:

“Okay, but what if a gorilla kissed me would you then be jealous?” you asked your loving boyfriend who was putting up with your weird jealousy questions while shopping for food, well rather paying for it and walking to the exit. “no” he answered plain and simple which made you a bit frustrated. “Okay, so what about a girl?” you looked at him while walking before hitting into something very hard making your head spin a little.

You felt your boyfriend’s arm around your waist turning you to face him, “Careful of glass doors but yeah i would be jealous if a girl kissed you”. You smiled a little at his answer before looking at the glass door you had just walked into seeing a faint reflection, “Wait is my nose bleeding?” you looked at him again but this time his face went from calm and amused to panicked, “shit yeah come on” dragging you to the restroom near the entry. He handed you a paper towel while whispering curse words in korean to himself knowing you would only hear half of it. “I’m fine?” putting the paper towel up your nose, “and as a bonus i look extra cute. This made him laugh slightly, not that you were fine, also that but the fact he had a girlfriend who cared this much about him to make him feel better when she was in pain.

Taehyung:

“TAN-AH” was all you managed to yell before meeting the floor in the apartment scraping your exposed knees but luckily taking the fall with your hands. Your boyfriend came running to you, seeing as well he was worried for his puppy. “Jagiya what happened” he looked at you blank faced sitting bending down to pet Yeontan. “Your dog tripped me and i nearly crushed him, i love him but he literally almost got us both killed” you said standing up.

Tae looked at you now worried, almost as if you had in fact just died pointing to your knees, “does it hurt?” he looked over at yeontan pretending to scold him when you both knew that would never happen. “Yes Tae, i am fine it’s just my knees not a broken bone” you smiled at him before looking at Yeontan, “that’s it no treats for you today little man”. As you finished saying this Tae couldn't help but just look at you and pull you into a hug admiring how cute you were.

Jungkook: 

You thought you would surprise you hard working boyfriend by cleaning his room for him, maybe it was also for your own sake but mostly for him you told yourself. Went to dust off his gaming area which included his playstation 4 which he loved very much and somehow, not knowing exactly how you had dropped it onto the floor and had it scatter around the room, which in all honestly you found dramatic but you couldn't help but feel your stomach drop knowing your boyfriend would be sad when he found out. You waited patiently in your room for him and the rest of the members to come home from work going over how you would explain yourself. In the meantime you had fallen asleep against next to the PS4 you had tried to put back together.

You heard the door open and almost by instinct stood up from the floor ready to explain. Jungkook smiled at you, looked down at the PS4 and suddenly his smile turned into a frown which seconds later turned into anger. “What the actual fuck did you do? you cant do anything? you break my stuff just because i’m not home with you 24/7? you’re literally so fucking stupid!” He didn't yell but he did spit it out as if you were his worst enemy. You looked at him with not tears pouring down your cheeks. “I’m so sorry i will buy you a new one, i tried to clean and it just happened i’m sorry i’m useless and stupid.” You went to grab one of you jacket to leave the apartment at least for a few hours. However a hand stopped you, and you met a pair of now warm and sad eyes. He hadn't realised how harsh his words were until you actually said it back to him. “You’re not any of the shit i said Y/N you're literally perfect, i was just angry it was a long day I'm so sorry don't cry” He spoke softly pulling you into a hug.

[beyondthedreamline]

what she says: I'm fine

what she means: So it’s interesting how the fact Loki probably had to have sex with Jeff Goldblum to keep himself alive and safe was both never made textual AND used as the butt of a joke (lol pun intended), because it doesn’t matter if Loki was sort of willing and it doesn’t matter if he’s sort of evil either - how can you give consent when you fall headfirst on a planet dominated by a psychotic pervert and why is sexual violence such a fun thing when it’s about men and this is James Bond all over again and how they inserted that ‘Maybe I got fucked before, you don’t know’ line during a high tension moment leading up to torture and possibly rape because that’s what’s fashionable now, gay subtext, amirite, which I’ve got nothing against but funnily enough it never seems to lead anywhere and hey, coming back to 'Thor: Ragnarok', isn’t it neat how the sexually ambiguous, feminine-coded brother ended up as a courtesan-slash-sex slave and the painfully straight übermensch brother got sent to the arena to fight and die and yay for novel and groundbreaking storytelling, right, because this is new, how women are sold into sex and/or need to pretend to be willing sexual partners to madmen so they have a shot at escaping violence and death while men are made to fight and somehow their kind of enslavement is recognized as terrible and tragic and something they're no part of, but women, eh, who can be sure about them, and my God, Loki couldn’t have been more stereotypically gay if they’d tried, I mean, Fashion-Conscious Drama Queen Initiates A Reign of Self-Obsessed Musical Theatre and how is that okay on top of Valkyrie, a canon bisexual woman, being coded as Thor’s love interest and also - #thor ragnarok #marvel #loki laufeyson #abuse for ts #rape for ts #negativity #imo this is the other problem with representation #we get one non white director #and we want to like him #we want to think he can do no wrong #but this movie #my god #it read like fanfiction #and not in a good way #also it was probably #the most misogynistic thor movie to date #just compare it with the first thor #where women were allowed to be women #also themselves #bc one thing i don't need #is women to get drunk and belch on screen #i mean sure #sometimes women do that #but this sudden idea #that feminist movies #need to have women act like (fictional) men do #well i hate it #sorry for ranting #but i do #i'd take a thousand jane forsters @awed-frog Okay, I reblogged the original post by @awed-frog but the text came out so strangely that it’s irritating the hell out of me, so I’m making a new post in the hope Tumblr doesn’t glitch it up too. This perspective on ‘Ragnarok’ is so interesting I have to respond to it, because I had completely the opposite reaction to everything! I loved the structure and pacing and the endless supply of in-jokes (the Douglas Adams reference most of all). This is a story with distinctly Antipodean humour, which you may or may not get – I sometimes struggle with the American humour in Marvel movies, different cultures tell their jokes different ways. The emotional beats were quiet and strong, trusting in the audience to understand their significance without overstatement: Thor going through funeral rites as best he can while imprisoned, Loki’s visible distress at the idea of Thor leaving him behind. There was also finally some solid textual support for Loki being more than a villain – which, given all the things he’s done to Earth, Asgard and Thor specifically, is no mean feat. I mean, at the point when you have a character who has faked his own death TWICE while trying to commit genocide BOTH TIMES, you have to lean hard into the inherent morbid comedy of the thing to keep it all from spiralling into cartoonish ridiculousness. I like Loki, largely because Tom Hiddleston has great facial expressions that can sell inconsistent characterisation, but seriously, it takes the actual apocalypse for him to step up and be useful. ‘Ragnarok’ reminds us that while Loki loves to play the victim and the martyr, he rarely is one. Usually, he’s the opposite. Trickery and charm are his great skills and as Thor pointed out, Sakaar was the perfect environment for him to thrive. We see him chat up girls, watch fights with the Grandmaster and act as a kind of pet bounty hunter, all of which he would hardly need much coercion to do. You can definitely read sexual subtext into their interactions, but I saw no implication of Loki being any more sexually threatened by the Grandmaster than Valkyrie was – that is to say, not at all. This is the guy who was willing to shove his brother straight back into the arena if it meant getting a step up in his new life, why would he feel uncomfortable sleeping his way to the top? I love the detail of him turning his 'death' into a play because he's literally the actor, the liar, the manipulator of events. In the end, Loki is a conman, and a very talented one. I’m sad that Jane won’t be returning to the Thor franchise, because I loved her character from the start and I truly enjoyed her dynamic with Thor. Also, DARCY. I will sorely miss Darcy Lewis. The truth is, I can’t think of a really satisfactory way for their departures to be handled on-screen, because I did not want them to depart at all. I feel like it should be pointed out, though, that ‘Thor: the Dark World’ was essentially Jane and Thor’s second date, and Jane was already running low on patience with his trans-Bifrost lifestyle. He’s kind and adorable and undeniably high-maintenance. If Jane had to have an exit, I’d prefer it like this, a low-key and everyday break-up rather than some big melodramatic event for Thor to brood over and Jane to be eventually talked out of. Also, just because I love Jane doesn’t mean I can’t love Valkyrie, and vice versa. It’s not a competition, however much Marvel tried to make it one. I’m a bit uncomfortable with your tag comment about the first Thor movie, describing it as the one ‘where women were allowed to be women’, because women are all kinds of things. I think I understand what you mean, there is rather an excess of traditionally masculine misbehaviour in mainstream media, but sometimes women are angry and disillusioned and drink way too much in order to cope, and that’s a story worth telling too. Honestly, I was on board with Valkyrie’s character from the minute she fell off her spaceship. She’s not a ‘better than the boys’ stereotype, she’s an embittered alcoholic warrior who gets dragged into friendship with Thor against her better judgement, and while that friendship might eventually shift into something romantic, it wasn’t shoehorned into her arc, for which I am intensely grateful. Ragnarok is, in so many ways, a movie with its foundations in the anger of the dispossessed. There are plenty of articles written on the subject by people better qualified than me. All I can say is that, as an Australian, I live in the messy aftermath of colonialism, with the awareness that my nation as I know it was founded on a violent invasion and that its impact is still being felt today. The line ‘where do you think all of this gold came from?’ was so flawless it kind of knocked my breath away. Hela tore apart Odin’s legacy and the narrative backed her right to do so the whole time. The only way to defeat her was to acknowledge that her claim was rightful and her story was true. That’s unbelievably powerful. Emotional resonance is a weird thing. So much of what we love in a story is entirely in the eye of the beholder, and perhaps it also depends on what other narratives are around us at the time – I, for instance, am personally tired of grimdark superheroism that’s all about how we can’t trust each other. What I need right now is Thor’s relentless optimism in the face of disaster, the man who makes friends wherever he goes, the god-prince who loses everything but rescues what really matters out of the ashes. Ragnarok isn’t a perfect movie, but it’s the best I’ve seen in a very long time and talking about it has made me want to watch it all over again.

[sweetnestor]

12 Days | Chapter 8.2

Two guys that lowkey hate each other are forced to walk in each other’s shoes in order to learn a lesson.

***in collaboration with @themarkiplierexperience

lmao soz its not actually x reader we’re just desperate for attention haaaa

previous

“I want to ask what the origin story behind this is, but I think I’m better off not knowing,” Tom typed. He attached a “selfie” wearing a bright blue shirt with the word “Wowie” printed on it in a strange fashion. Then, he sent the whole thing to Ethan.

He did see the other texts from the boy that he received the evening before, but Tom was dying to show this to him now. He finally had a look at what Ethan’s “merch” was like. To say he was not expecting “wowie” on a t-shirt was an understatement. Why “wowie”?

Halfway through editing this video, Tom kind of despised Ethan… and he definitely hated the word “Wowie” with a burning passion. It wasn’t all bad, though. Tom had spent the day with a funny pair of people: Parker and Andrew. He didn’t have to consciously act like Ethan to get along with the pair. They were so graciously weird that seeing their friend act out of character was considered normal for them… if that made any sense. The three of them, along with Amy, made a video together that was about this awful blue t-shirt. A promotional video, and instead of having a whole filming crew complete with camera men and editors, it was all self made. It was impressive, don’t get him wrong, but Tom only thrived when he was on camera, not behind the scenes.

It was a minute and a half long video, yet it was taking ages for him to put it all together. Not to mention, Tom was awaiting an update from Ethan about Zendaya. Earlier, he had said that she wanted to talk, and god knows what that was supposed to mean. On top of that, Bella was getting a little harder to handle.

Tom had invited her to come along to shoot the video, but she had gotten immensely sheepish and timid when she heard about the people who would be joining them. She made an excuse about having emails to answer and business Skype meetings to have. She only returned to his apartment after hearing that Parker, Andrew, and Amy had left for the day, and even then she just stayed in the living room while Tom finished the video. Weird, but whatever.

A few hours later, Tom could say he was proud of what he had created. The video was very sarcastic, and kind of funny, but it got the message across: “Buy this ugly ass shirt.” Really, he didn’t see the appeal, but Ethan’s fans sure did. The shirt had been on sale on Ethan’s merch store all month, and as of today, there were only ten days left to buy it. Tom learned all of this through Parker, who had a hand in running the store. Thank god he wasn’t left in completely in the dark.

Thing is, Tom easily learned about different aspects of this kid’s life. He knew the girlfriend, a good amount of the friends, and just enough about his personality to get by. The hard part was the YouTube stuff, because everyone around him assumed that he knew what he was doing. They all assumed he was Ethan. How bizarre would it be if Ethan just suddenly asked for help on the basics of editing a simple video? How long would it be for someone to figure that this wasn’t Ethan, that it was somebody else? What would they do, besides throw him in an asylum?

A knock on the bedroom door snapped Tom out of his thoughts. He pulled off his headphones and granted access.

Bella came in, an unreadable expression on her face. “Hey…”

“Hi, love,” Tom greeted, turning in his chair to face her.

She stepped in, looking around the room as she tangled her fingers together. “I don’t mean to interrupt you, I’m just…” She sighed. “This is really stupid, like really stupid…”

“Oh, how bad could it be?” he asked, putting on a kind smile, despite how nervous the sudden tension made him.

Bella picked at her nails to fill the silence. But she finally asked in a soft voice, “why didn’t you ask me to be in your video?”

Honestly, Tom had been hoping she had that conversation with her real boyfriend. Even he found it weird that the “talking to women” bit from the video starred Amy. Why not Bella? It probably wasn’t something to fuss about, but the girl’s nerves radiated for miles, it made Tom himself feel like he had done something wrong. He didn’t even know how to respond.

“I mean, you and Parker came up with the video idea like what? Two weeks ago,” she rambled, “and you guys came up with the ‘talking to girls’ thing and your first thought was Amy? Not that there’s anything wrong with that, I-I mean she did come up with the shirt design…”

Ah, so that was the culprit.

“I-It’s not that I wanted to slap you - uh, fake slap you for a video,” Bella went on, her voice getting shaky, “i-it’s just you didn’t think to ask me, I don’t know. Am I freaking out over nothing?”

“You freak out over everything,” Tom said without thinking. There was a small pause before he turned back to the computer.

“I know, it’s what I do,” Bella said, not seeming offended by that statement. “It probably wasn’t a big deal. I shouldn’t have bothered you, sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. Any other thoughts, concerns?” It was half sarcastic, but she took the bait.

“I’ve been… having dreams…”

Ethan was supposed to know that tone, what that particular phrase meant. Tom, on the other hand, was clueless.

“Naughty dreams?”

“No.” Bella’s tone was serious now. She paced around the small recording space, still picking at her nails. “Bad dreams. I’ve had dreams like this before… Ethan, please don’t make me say it.”

It had been five days since the switch, five days of being this girl’s boyfriend, and Tom was getting more and more impatient.

“Don’t talk about it then,” he said with a shrug. “If it’s really that scary, or disturbing, or whatever it is... then you don’t need to speak of it.”

Again, it was silent. Tom definitely said the wrong thing, but he didn’t know how to handle a girl with anxiety. He could barely handle Zendaya, even though he hoped to fix things with her.

“You’re probably right,” Bella spoke at last. She turned on her heel towards the door. “No one wants to remember that time, especially me.” She stopped at the doorway and looked back at him. “Oh, and I just figured out why I was freaking out over Amy. It’s been almost a year since Mark left me for her.”

Whoa. What would Ethan say to that? What would Ethan think about his girlfriend mentioning her ex?

Speaking of the ex, Tom’s phone dinged on his desk. Mark had texted him. Admittedly, Tom wasn’t really texting anyone consistently apart from Ethan. He had also ignored Mark’s texts from the other day, so there was a chance he wasn’t on good terms with the boss.

“Hey look man, I don’t know what’s going on with you lately, but I need an answer. Are you going to be returning to work anytime soon? Or do we need to make a public statement that you don’t work for me anymore? I’m not trying to put pressure on you, or anything with malice. I just need to know what’s going on business wise.”

Public statement? So the fans knew Mark had editors? And there had to be something said publicly when something changed behind the scenes? Is that how YouTube works?

“I think my girlfriend is hung up on you, you’re the last person I need to see right now,” Tom typed for literally no other reason except to see if it sounded like something his other half would say. He chuckled to himself after deeming that it was too ridiculous and out of line and went to delete it…

You know when you mean to do one thing but instead do another? Yeah, Tom somehow mixed up the ‘send’ key and the ‘backspace’ key, and well…

“Fuck!” he snapped, sitting up in his chair, watching as the angry text sent. “No, no, no, no! Shit!”

Oh god, Ethan was so fired.

~

Tom didn’t have the heart to tell Ethan about the wonderful conversation he had with Mark following that text. He read through the messages he received while he was editing over and over again just to avoid telling him what went down. Ethan seemed excited to be in Montreal.

“So guess I have a workout tomorrow morning? Wish me luck bc I’ll actually die.” That’ll be fun to hear about, but it didn’t settle the knot in Tom’s stomach.

“I’m almost ok with the switch if it means getting to stay in this house dude it’s so nice?? I’m never leaving.” Tom was not okay with the switch. He wanted to be in that house right now, leave Ethan with the mess that he made.

“I finished the wowie video. I hate the word wowie. Please never say it again,” he typed and sent before reading the rest of the texts. He noticed that Ethan will either be completely silent, or send multiple texts at once. No in between.

“Also,,,,, fuck kinda friendship you got with Harrison? You give each other lap dances???” Ethan asked. Oh no. Oh god. “Not judging, just wish I’d known you were rejecting zendaya for ur best m8 lolol.”

Tom literally groaned out loud and palmed his forehead. Then, he frantically sent, “IT WASNOTHING WE DONT SPEAK OF IT SHUT UP.” No way he was getting into that with this guy. He wouldn’t understand.

The next message didn’t help very much. “Speaking of Daya, we talked today. She asked abot how you feel and what you thought you 2 had going on. Made it clear it was her choice what happened, but that you’re just friends? Idk man how DO you feel?”

“Anyway, the videos were good. Much better than Tyler’s first edits for sure. Good job, I’m impressed.”

“Shooting starts tomorrow so I’m off to learn everything there is to know about acting…….. By watching some movie wiht the guys, gn.”

Tom sat there for a few minutes, trying to word any of the thoughts in his head. Why couldn’t have Ethan made the Zendaya decision for him? He seems like a nice guy, he’s had a girlfriend for six months, and she didn’t seem tired of him!

“I’ll deal with her when we switch back… by the way when are we gonna switch back??? Anyway, have a good night mate, have a pint for me!”

_____

tag list: @beardedsteveslut @marie-is-in-the-dark @ohsnapitzmoony

_____

next

[littlelovelymemes]

✰ * º ❛ more popular text posts ask meme. ❜

‘  if i’m ever murdered i hope they make the chalk outline of my body hot  ’ ‘  i hope you end up ok  ’ ‘  i’m crying my best  ’ ‘  how fucked up would it be if an astronaut was coming back to earth and everybody hid for a bit  ’ ‘  some kid just skateboarded down my street crying  ’ ‘  do you ever get in an “i don’t know” phase in your life. where you literally don’t have a solid answer to anything. you. just. don’t. know.  ’ ‘  i guess at this point i should just consider dating myself  ’ ‘  which of the three pillars of modern music is your favourite: burnin’ up by the jonas brothers, beautiful soul by jesse mccartney, or lucky by britney spears?  ’ ‘  you know my name… and also my story cause i overshare 24/7 tbh  ’ ‘  @ all of u that hate mint ice cream: what happened  ’ ‘  there is no doubt in my mind i’m really that bitch  ’ ‘  after you hit 21, you start forgetting your age cause ain’t nothing else to look forward to, besides sweet death  ’ ‘  why am i not currently in the italian countryside with a fruit plate wearing a light linen dress? unacceptable  ’ ‘  hands are weird because one of them can do absolutely everything without a problem and the other one can’t even hold a spoon  ’ ‘  remember to drink a fucking shit ton of water every miserable day of ur life  ’ ‘  what the fuck is a good day  ’ ‘  sleeping pattern: ??¿?¿??¿¿¿?¿  ’ ‘  is he………you know…….*makes football throwing motion*….straight?  ’ ‘  does anyone else have a resting bitch face™, but kinda enjoys looking intimidating  ’ ‘  i’m not like most girls [rips off sunglasses]… i like most girls  ’ ‘  time flies when u take a 2hr depression nap in the middle of the day  ’ ‘  roses are red, i’m going to bed  ’ ‘  u know when ur hairs greasy and it makes u feel so so so bad about urself. and ur entire life. everything is awful bc my hair is greasy  ’ ‘  i’m just so glad the word “ugh” was invented  ’ ‘  just another day of loving with all my heart and believing in the universe  ’ ‘  you know when dogs sit outside with their face turned towards the sun and their eyes closed and they look so relaxed and when you pet them they’re warm that’s how I want to feel always  ’ ‘  come into bed and listen to the rain with me  ’ ‘  i hope all my girls out here r safe n being loved  ’ ‘  people are so petty and then here i am, me, an angel,   ’ ‘  i want to have angel wings and be kinder, braver and more tender  ’ ‘  concept: a really nice italian restaurant but it’s spelled “spagooter” on the menu and the waiters won’t take your order unless you pronounce it like that  ’ ‘  i want kids but i’m scared they’ll blame me if they’re ugly  ’ ‘  does anyone have any tips for not thinking about it  ’ ‘  “what’s a queen without her king?” well, historically, better  ’ ‘  i want something that doesn’t taste like alcohol but has a lot of alcohol in it  ’ ‘  i’m alive out of spite  ’ ‘  the beatles wouldn’t even fucking exist if big time rush hadn’t paved the path for them so shut the fuck up  ’ ‘  a bad person? who, me? that would be correct,  ’ ‘  you hate me? wow u think ur hot shit and original huh well i hated me first so u can go grab a number and wait ur turn  ’ ‘  my heart does a little “!” when I see you  ’ ‘  i just want to say from the bottom of my heart i didn’t sign up for this shit  ’ ‘  i deadass lost interest in everything. im just cruising on autopilot rn  ’ ‘  still got love for some people i know i’ll never talk to again.  ’ ‘  my mitochondria clearly aren’t working because this bitch has NO FUCKING ENERGY  ’ ‘  y’all i get attached to people so quickly wth  ’ ‘  i wonder how many strangers hate me bc of how someone else described me to them  ’ ‘  for the 80th year in a row, the song of the summer is Everytime We Touch by Cascada  ’ ‘  it’s weird to think that people who are 5 ft are only 5 subways long ’ ‘  in alcohol’s defense i’ve done some pretty dumb shit while completely sober too  ’ ‘  man this has been the worst life of my life  ’ ‘  having “feelings” is ruining my reputation of being a heartless bitch  ’ ‘  I Have To Be Dramatic. I Have To  ’ ‘  forgive and forget?? haha no resent and remember  ’ ‘  “you’re obsessed with yourself” and you’re not??? sad. tragic  ’ ‘  are people becoming more annoying or am i becoming more angry  ’ ‘  do my dark under eye circles and unwashed hair turn you on  ’ ‘  KIDS REACT TO existentialism and the inevitability of death  ’ ‘  remember to do your best to be positive with a clear mind and believe in aliens because those motherfuckers are real  ’ ‘  personality: I DON’T GIVE A FUCK  ’ ‘  my gender is “pretty boy”  ’ ‘  what others call a rebellious phase i call the sudden realization i don’t deserve to be treated like garbage  ’ ‘  what is a sex drive? where is the sex going? does it even have a license?  ’ ‘  i don’t want to look “pretty” i want to look otherworldly and vaguely threatening  ’ ‘  i’m not interested in being polite or heterosexual  ’ ‘  do re me fa so done with you  ’ ‘  ctrl alt delete feelings cause i can’t do this shit no more  ’ ‘  i may seem like an asshole, but deep down i’m a good person and even deeper down i’m a bigger asshole  ’ ‘  should i go back to school tomorrow or should i fling myself into the ocean  ’ ‘  am i too judgemental or is everyone annoying: an autobiography by me  ’ ‘  are we gonna fuckn hold hands tonight or what bitch  ’ ‘  i love drunk me but i don’t trust her  ’ ‘  has anyones crush ever actually worked out for them or is that a myth?  ’ ‘  i say “fight me” a lot for a girl who is 5′3″ and has a hard time opening some doors because they’re too heavy  ’ ‘  if i had a dollar for every time someone called me ugly i’d have 0 dollars bitch u thought lmao  ’ ‘  my last words will probably be sarcastic  ’ ‘  i used to be a straight a student. now i’m not even straight  ’ ‘  ever wonder how different your life would be if that one thing never happened  ’ ‘  single and ready to find aliens  ’ ‘  it’s very important that i am both cute and powerful  ’ ‘  i want to make friends but at the same time no  ’ ‘  there’s a special place in hell reserved just for me, it’s called the throne  ’ ‘  hi i’m here to ruin everything  ’ ‘  i’m glad dogs can’t read the ‘no dogs allowed’ signs so they don’t feel sad and feel left out  ’ ‘  we’re all better and gayer people than we used to be  ’ ‘  every time i speak i am reminded why i should not  ’ ‘  every machine is a smoke machine if you operate it wrong enough  ’ ‘  i don’t know what i’m feeling but there is a lot of it  ’ ‘  the rumors are true: i’m soft and i just want to be loved  ’ ‘  i’m like a hexagon: all my hecks r gone  ’ ‘  we all know that one person you get sexually frustrated just looking at  ’ ‘  i wonder what it feels like to know what the fuck is going on  ’ ‘  my kink: not having to set an alarm for the next morning  ’ ‘  on the bright side, at least i am not addicted to cocaine  ’ ‘  they called me stupid?? well joke’s on them i don’t even know what that means  ’ ‘  i might get a lot of shit for saying this but i think it’s fun to enjoy things  ’ ‘  i’m the nicest, sweetest, most rage-filled person i know  ’ ‘  assert your dominance by calling your friends by their student id number  ’ ‘  there she goes again, being over dramatic and by she, i mean me  ’ ‘  if u don’t know how to respond to something just say ‘how dare you’  ’ ‘  um that’s u’re* not ur  ’ ‘  i wonder what it feels like to know what the fuck is going on  ’ ‘  so sick of looking at my purse and not seeing $20,000  ’ ‘  literally want to be rich for the clothes  ’ ‘  me??? upset???? yes constantly  ’ ‘  a good gender neutral term to use is ‘fool’  ’ ‘  today’s schedule: suffer  ’ ‘  my middle name is actually $$  ’ ‘  don’t u hate it when u wake up and ur awake  ’ ‘  i want someone who will light a fire in me  ’ ‘  i want someone who will light me on fire  ’ ‘  i’m too cute for 90% of the shit i go thru  ’ ‘  who needs therapy when you can Realize™ things about yourself alone at 1 am  ’ ‘  why is there so much blood in my alcohol system  ’ ‘  no offense but i am a blessing to this earth  ’ ‘  haha oops i care about you  ’ ‘  they call me calcium because i give everyone strong bones  ’ ‘  do you have that one person that you can’t look at when you’re trying to be mad at them because they’re so cute??  ’ ‘  hi i’m here to ruin everything  ’ ‘  one day i’m gonna say ‘fight me!’ and someone’s just gonna fuckin deck me  ’ ‘  me? a jealous hoe? absolutely  ’ ‘  it’s raining but it’s not men so what’s the point  ’ ‘  i think i may be gayer than i originally planned  ’ ‘  i can’t hang out tomorrow i’m too busy doing nothing alone sorry  ’ ‘  me? overreacting? shit probably  ’ ‘  i would like to publicly announce that i have no idea what i’m doing  ’ ‘  is there a scholarship for trying  ’ ‘  me?? using sarcasm as a defense mechanism??????? what?????  ’ ‘  i don’t know what i’m feeling but there is a lot of it  ’ ‘  i require a lot of attention or you get a lot of attitude  ’ ‘  “what the fuck” is an emotion now and it’s the only one i have  ’ ‘  you’re important to me, you piece of shit  ’