Noah Kahan
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hello vonnie
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@rkhanbn-blog
( ✉ ) 허니버터칩 › › if you tell me how much you love me i’ll give you my extra bag of honey butter chips ( ✉ ) 허니버터칩 › › swoon me
≪ ✉ : 🐯형 ≫ my love for you can’t be described in simple words, hyung. you mean too much for me to just kkt.
≪ ✉ : 🐯형 ≫ let’s be real, now.. could jack ever simply describe to rose what she meant to him? could romeo just tell Juliet that she was the air he breathed?
≪ ✉ : 🐯형 ≫ nah
≪ ✉ : 🐯형 ≫ why?
≪ ✉ : 🐯형 ≫ because they didn’t have phones.
⋰ hangover ⋱
the stench of liquor and regret filling all crevices of the tiny apartment was sure proof of their sins mistakes. and although he assures himself that he should probably not sit up. discomfort surges through his stiffened core. he grumbles himself awake with a scrunched forehead, cheeks warm from the sun’s beams and blinded by the sunlight seeping through the blinds. there’s confusion, and the room seems to have been hit by a hurricane. bottles sprawled here and there, clothes tossed about, takeout containers half finished.
there’s a tinge of worry, unable to piece together the situation just what the hell happened last night?
when he finally shuffles into an upright position, his head spins. a hand slaps his forehead as if to still the booming within his head. silently he questions if his heart and brain have switched places. swearing his heartbeat no longer resided in his chest but between his two temples. he sighs. looking over at the figure beside him. blinking repeatedly and giving a slight tilt to his still aching head. unable to make out the figure beneath the fluffy covers. positive it wasn’t jieun, she’d be out by now and would have definitely warned of her nightmares or need for comfort in the middle of the night when she’d creep into his apartment. he leans in, peering over the mantled dozing body as it slightly stirs in it’s slumber, attempting to unveil the mystery.
@rkjbum
▶︎ Tales Of Love: Chapter One Summer Fling ━━━ released!
━━━ the self produced EP has gotten rave reviews, quickly climbing it’s way up on the charts.
━━━ rapper kim hanbin has us reminiscing on a first timer’s fluttering butterflies.
━━━ the nostalgic hip hop beat will leave you wishing for the warmth of the sun on your skin, sand between your toes and hair tangled with the ocean’s salt.
fill in the blank !
* open plots under the cut
what is your pokemon dream team?
“Bellossom would be my leading lady, no need for a pokeball when I can just have her on my shoulder at all times.” he nods, proud of his pickings.
“Personally, the grass types all call out to me. My favorite and most used pokeball would probably be Bulbasaur’s, since Bellossom’s isn’t too... useful. Virizion coming in close second for most used in fights.”
so... are you really a virgin?
“ah, wouldn’t you like to know.. huh?” he rests upon the curve of his arm, blinking at his neighbor. before shaking his head from left to right. there’s a slight tint over the apples of his cheeks, as he does become a bit warm in the face. flustered from her lack of respect to the secrecy of what happens behind closed doors. none the less, he h a s to be honest, doesn’t he? “just because I don’t tell you of my experiences, doesn’t mean I have no experience.”
what job would you be absolutely horrible at?
“I’ve nearly burned down my kitchen on various occasions while attempting to use the stove… so I know the culinary arts are not my calling. I would be absolutely horrible as a chef.”
what does your best friend (hanbin) mean to you?
“he’s a little shit and a loser. he doesn’t have a real job. he eats too damn much – i’m always cooking for his ass. so that makes him spoiled too because he doesn’t want fast food. he screams virgin. he’s conservative and thinks like an old ass man. he likes dogs – they’re gross and terrifying. he’s so lame. he thinks honey butter chips are a delicacy when they’re hardly even good. he whines a lot and he’s argumentative –
but even with all that, he’s cute. really cute. and he cares too much. and he’s sweet. his presence is calming for me and he does a lot of things for me too. so i keep him around. he’s a good boy and means much more to me than words can say. don’t tell him i said any of this, though.”
do you truly resent your father? or have you forgiven him?
“my father has done some despicable things.. and although these are questions I ask myself rather frequently” he fumbles with the lobe of his right ear, seconds ticking by before he clicks his tongue. “stealing from your own people is just so… low.”
What would you sell your soul for?
honey butter chips.
it's time for some honesty,
by reblogging this, your character will answer every question he/she receives in the inbox truthfully. no dodging any questions or giving ambiguous answers that don’t really answer the question at all—be completely honest. please use this opportunity to send each other good questions that may help the mun develop their character’s muse, not questions for the shits and giggles. also, if you reblog this post, send questions! don’t just sit there and expect to only receive. no one likes being the odd one out so let’s make sure to send, send, send! the most important rule is to have fun though— don’t forget that one.
Are you satisfied with what you have?
his shoulders rise as quickly as they slump. throat clearing before his digits brush over his chin. “weeell… I’ve had too much and I’ve had too little. currently, I’m right in the middle.” he admits. thinking over all the the properties to his name the bank had snatched away in 2015. all the designer clothing that once hung within his closet, not a single one from the clearance rack. yet he sighs and gives half a nod. “yeah, I’m pretty well off regardless.” he adds a smile, unknowing of how to continue this sudden verbal invasion.
how cute you are 💘
( ✉ ) 우쭈우쭈 우리 동생 › › I have to confess something ( ✉ ) 우쭈우쭈 우리 동생 › › i love you ㅋㅋㅋ
≪ ✉ : 🐯형 ≫ are you trying to trick me into being your valentines?
≪ ✉ : 🐯형 ≫ it’s working 💕
⋰ tinderella ⋱
no matter how many times he brushes his hands upon the bootcut denim, his palms remain clammy. lips dry despite the mass amounts of water he downed and chapstick he slapped on. his tongue brushes over his lips nervously, for the inth time this evening. his stomach continues grumbling and instead of shoving yet another piece of tteokboki into his stuffed cheeks he pushes the plate away.
the environment is a little too relaxed for a first encounter with such a pretty girl, yet she had picked this place for one reason or the other and he didn’t dare question her judgement. although.. she looked too “gangnam” for this battered lil pojangmacha in the middle of myeongdong.
the old woman behind the counter had been unnecessarily kind, warning him of the grease that had fell upon his chest; staining the gray tee he wore. she handed over a clean towelette in order for him to get as much out as he could before his date arrived, with a halfhearted bow of the head and a low murmur of gratitude he looked around, avoiding eye contact out of the clear embarrassment that painted his cheeks pink. luckily, besides himself, there were no other customers. he wonders if this is some sort of setup. his friends had warned him that online dating had it’s risks and yet he pushes the negative thoughts away. he had been early. much too early. nearly an hour earlier than what they planned and had decided to just kill time, grab a bite. act cool as if he had been but fifteen minutes early as if to not make the lady wait. he rolls his eyes; acting classes had been a royal waste of money to his parents.
that’s when he spots a masked stranger, and long trestles step into the establishment, much too petite for what he had imagined. he blinks. it couldn’t be, surely his sight failed him. head tilting slightly to the left before he digs into his front pocket, pulling out the iphone before making any sudden movements to the stranger.
@rksoohyun
⋰ mixed designer ⋱
guess the setting solely by the description: all sorts of humans wonder about somehow aimlessly. dante’s limbo or shopping malls?
he watched, unmoved from the section: women snatching cloth from hangers in order to fill what he imagined to be a packed closet back home with the same pattern, same cut, same style. usually, it goes without say: they are all the same. eye rolling, hip swaying, attitude hissing young millennial women who seem to be searching for their missing personality fragments among the sales section of a store that swears “BARGAIN!” when saving you half a buck. It’s always a steal when the money is coming from mommy and daddy’s credit card. expensive styles tended to throw him off, make him quite pissy. tangibly #triggered. not solely because of the price for authenticity. not because of how overpriced a material equating to a couple bucks skyrocketed due to a known logo. rather, he saw the individual as less human, more material. personal preference no longer personal but more general. aesthetically pleasing to a public that in reality didn’t give a crap about your authenticity, but the “genuineness” of the gucci bag slanged over your shoulder.
kinda pessimistic. he acknowledges, maybe slightly bitter due to now being a good that was slightly unaffordable to him. a quiet reminder of the social hierarchy slipping from his grasp. ehh, just another trauma more to grow from. he’s quiet, momentarily searching for aid from any possible passerby. Why had he not urged a friend to tag along on this excruciating task?
he exhales loudly. unable to decide between “appropriate dinner wear” what the hell was that even supposed to mean anyway, mom? this, mixed with the absolute hatred asking for help from store employees. honestly, all they did was brag about quality, stuff the sale down your throat and urge you to purchase not one, two, three of the same top but in different patterns for each season. “limited edition” or whatever.
That’s precisely when he sees a petite figure passing, bags in hands. seemingly a customer, with glamour sprinkled down to her very stride. clearing his throat. he approached the shorter individual. such a random and possibly uncommon request from a stranger. quietly, he clears his throat, softly tapping her shoulder, inching away before she could slap him with her tresses or (hand? he’d seen that done in movies and didn’t doubt the possibility) “excuse me.. would you mind helping me with this daunting task?” he questions, motioning towards the rack of clothing he had been examining. “that is, if you don’t mind? or.. if you have the time?”
@rkmeiqi
✾ ┊ simple luxuries
rkjieuns:
the lone amaryllis plant is at an unnatural slope; cut within the stem and was neglected thanks to some idiotic newcomer who couldn’t understand what the word ‘fragile’ meant if it was shoved down his throat. it was set to be discarded until jieun took it upon herself to make it hers, knowing someone that would give it the love it deserved. it’s why the girl passes her own front door to stop at his entrance, giving the steel a repetitious knock of three that not only signaled that it was her, but also a warning that she was coming in and that hanbin better be decent instead of a request of entrance like most. she adjusts the plant within her hands to let herself in his apartment, nudging the door shut behind her with her hips. glossed lips part to call out for the owner as she walks in, only to pause once she finds him in the living room and shuffles her way towards him. “bean,” jieun starts, grabbing the pot of the flower plant with both hands before she thrusts it in his direction, “got another one, doc. you can do it, mmh?” it’s a question that’s asked though it sounds more like a command with her monotone voice – but hanbin would understand. somehow, he always did. while she waits she casts a gaze around his apartment, noting the bare kitchen before looking back at him, hands sinking into the back pockets of her jeans, “have you eaten yet?”
it was rare when he didn’t find much excitement to his day. Hanbin enjoyed nearly every second of his mornings, from the moment he stretched every muscle and joint in order to fully awaken his body, when he would drag feet about his tiny apartment, sluggishly paving the way to his beloved coffee machine, pour and sip his morning doze of energy. Then circle to the windows: allowing the midwinter/prespring air to whistle in. he would sit on heated wood floors to meditate, catch up with morning news; make sure nothing new of his father’s case was made for public view. this would set the tone for his day. The process had been cultivated and made into a routine, routine, routine. All in all, he was 100% not a morning person, he was unable to greet another human during this early hours of the morning. convinced everyone that knew him that the chemicals used for sociality and manners did not fire up until a quarter to ten. when beginning his business, he made sure his clientele all recognized the definition of 10am, when the monster would retract into the shell of the docile, sweet human hanbin was. he had rules, many rules established for his services and daytoday. because people become careless of service workers if clear lines are not drawn.
Today however, patience had ticked and frowns had stiffened his features when a woman with a 1 ½ month old boston terrier had shouted “KIM HANBIN” full name at the top of her lungs. feverishly using his front door as a punching bag. he could’ve sworn he was starring in a much too fabricated film. A horror, to say the least. when lids unglued themselves from comfort and hues rolled to fix upon the electronic alarm clock. to see 6:00 displayed was but a sin. he stumbled to his front door. fiery glare prepared to flame whoever dared. as soon as he unlocked; a woman reeking of chanel n°5 shoved a pup into his grasp. giving him deliberate instructions on how to care for mooka, who was apparently ill and in need of the 5 star care that online reviews had swore of. hanbin parted pursed lips to cuss but instead money was shoved onto him. triple the cost of his usual service rate, undeniably shutting him up, besides, mooka was cute. however cuteness didn’t reconcile for the amounts of brown puke and green sh*t he had to clean after the small being throughout the day. grumpy was an understatement. his stomach was empty yet appetite was far from the equation.
mooka had only parted 20 minutes prior to her arrival. he had yet to text her the entirety of his day, usually he’d send her a text in attempts to to catch up during lunch. yet his phone was in a splash-zone free area, afraid of the bodily fluids that the terrier could stain the mobile with. he smiled, rather weakly: the plant resembled his very soul in the moment. feeble and droopy. with a single nod, he stood; taking the pot into his own palms and walking it over to the kitchen counter, under a table lamp looking over it with the human version of “heart eyes”.
“oh, nurse.. she truly needs some assistance” he mumbled half-heartedly. digits caressing the tender seedlings sprouting from the dirt. “she can be fixed though” he eyed jieun then, who wasx seemingly exhausted. he knew well these were hellish days for a flower shop employee and though every fiber in his being wished to protest her cooking up a meal after such a long day of work. just the thought of a fresh meal cooked by his favorite chef made his stomach loudly grumble and his mouth water. reminding him that since 6am, all he had to eaten was… coffee. his lips fix into a half pout half upwards scrunch. right hand coming to rest upon his abdomen. “if it wouldn’t be too much trouble..?” he questions, but really he’s inviting her to fully take reign of his kitchen and dear god, please feed me I’m starving and unable to properly unfreeze the pre-prepped meals you left.
