#be embarrassed to be seen with me and stuff

[coriihanniee]

ARE YOU GONNA MARRY, KISS OR KILL ME? ˚₊‧꒰ა ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

۶ৎ ALTERNATIVE : boynextdoor as high school tropes

۶ৎ PAIRING : boynextdoor x f!reader ۶ৎ GENRE(S) : highschool au, fluff, comfort, mutual pining, grumpy x sunshine in Taesan's~ ۶ৎ WARNING(S) : academic burnout in Sungho's, mentions of overworking in Sungho's and Jaehyun's, mild illness in Taesan's ۶ৎ WORD COUNT : 1.0k - 1.3k words / member

۶ৎ A/N : got inspo after seeing a certain tweet on X,,, and I just miss Boynextdoor... (っ- ‸ - ς)

SUNGHO ⋆⑅˚₊

˖➴ PAIRING : class president!sungho x burnout academic!reader

Park Sungho has always had that quiet kind of magnetism, the kind that comes from genuinely caring. You’ve watched him from across classrooms and crowded hallways for months now. The way he remembers people’s names without effort, asks about their sick grandparents like it matters (because it does to him), and somehow makes even the most reserved students feel heard during class discussions. 

He's untouchable in the way that good people often are, golden and warm like late afternoon sunlight streaming through classroom windows, which is why you can't quite believe he's sitting across from you in your carefully chosen corner of the library, two cups of coffee steaming between you.

"You know the library closes in an hour, right?" His voice is soft and hesitant, as if he's unsure of his welcome here in your sanctuary of solitude.

You glance up from your chemistry notes, blinking away the blur of exhaustion that's become your constant companion. The numbers and formulas swim on the page like they're underwater. "I know what time it is."

"When's the last time you went home before 8 PM?" 

The question settles between you with uncomfortable weight. You honestly can't remember. Home has become nothing more than a place to collapse for a few hours before the cycle begins again, classes, college prep courses, extracurriculars that look good on applications but drain your soul. The pursuit of perfection that everyone expects from you, that you've learned to expect from yourself.

Sungho pushes one of the coffees towards you, his fingers brushing the table near yours. "Vanilla latte. Extra shot, no whip. I noticed you always get that one from the machine by the gym."

The fact that he's noticed, that he's paid attention to something so mundane about you, sends an unexpected flutter through your chest. Park Sungho notices everything about everyone, it's what makes him such a natural leader, so beloved by teachers and students alike. But you never thought his careful attention would extend to you, the girl who sits in the back and keeps her head down.

"Don't you have student council stuff to do?" you ask, wrapping your hands around the warm cup. The vanilla scent is comforting, familiar. "Important presidential duties?"

A soft laugh escapes him, and you're struck by how different he seems here in the quiet library light. Less polished, more human. "Meeting ended an hour ago. We were planning the winter formal, if you must know." He pauses, opening his own textbooks with deliberate slowness. "Besides, I'm worried about you."

The admission hangs in the air between you, honest and vulnerable in a way that makes your heart skip. "I'm fine."

"You fell asleep in calculus yesterday." His voice is gentle, no judgment in it. "Mrs. Kim had to wake you up three times. And you haven't been eating lunch, I've seen you in the library instead, every day this week."

Heat creeps up your neck, embarrassment blooming across your cheeks. You thought no one had seen, thought you'd been invisible in your struggle. "I was just—"

"Exhausted," Sungho finishes. "You're burning yourself out, and I can't just sit back and watch anymore."

The crack in your carefully constructed facade widens at his words. You've been running on caffeine and stubbornness for weeks, pushing yourself harder and harder because that's what's expected. Because perfect grades and perfect applications to perfect colleges are supposed to guarantee a perfect future. Because everyone thinks you have it all figured out.

"I have to keep up," you whisper, and your voice sounds small even to your own ears. "Everyone thinks I'm this perfect student, but I'm barely hanging on. If I slow down, if I let myself slip even a little..."

"The world won't end," Sungho says quietly. "Your worth isn't determined by your GPA."

You look up at him then, and find his dark eyes fixed on you with an intensity that makes your breath catch. There's an evident concern shown on his face, and it makes your heart race despite your exhaustion.

"You don't have to be perfect for everyone else," he continues, leaning forward slightly. "And you definitely don't have to be perfect for me."

The words hit deep in your chest, some buried part of you that's been aching to hear them. When did his opinion start mattering so much? When did Park Sungho become more than just the golden boy class president you admired from afar?

"How about this," he says, opening his physics textbook with careful precision. "We study together. I'll make sure you actually take breaks, eat something that isn't from a vending machine, and get out of here at a reasonable time. Consider it my presidential duty to look after my constituents."

There's a teasing note in his voice that makes you smile despite everything. "You don't have to babysit me."

"I'm not babysitting you." Pink colours his cheeks, and he looks younger suddenly, less like the composed leader everyone knows and more like a boy with a crush. "I like spending time with you. Even if it's just sitting here doing homework. Especially if it's sitting here doing homework."

Your heart beats faster in your chest, a flutter of possibility that you've been too tired to acknowledge until now. Park Sungho, who could be anywhere, with anyone, who probably has dozens of people vying for his attention, wants to sit in the quiet library with you, wants to drink coffee, share conversations and study together, with you. 

"Okay," you say quietly, and the word feels like stepping off a cliff. "But I'm buying the coffee next time."

His smile is radiant, transforming his entire face. "Deal. Though I should warn you, I take my coffee very seriously. Two sugars, splash of cream, and it has to be from the good machine in the student lounge."

"Noted, Mr. President."

"Just Sungho," he says, he glances at you, then away, as if trying to build the courage in silence. "When it's just us, just call me Sungho."

As he starts explaining a physics concept you've been struggling with, his voice patient and encouraging, you find yourself studying more than just the diagrams he's sketching. The way his brow furrows when he concentrates, how he bites his lip when he's thinking, the gentle way his hand moves across the paper. 

"You're not paying attention," he says suddenly, catching you staring.

"Sorry, I—"

"Don't apologize." His smile is soft, almost fond. "I was starting to think you saw right through me."

"Through you?"

"I've been looking for an excuse to talk to you for months," he admits, his honesty catching you off guard. "Every time I'd work up the courage, you'd disappear before I could say anything. The library was the only place I knew I'd find you."

The confession settles over you like a warm blanket, chasing away some of the cold exhaustion that's been your constant companion. "You've been looking for me?"

"Every day." He reaches across the table, his fingers barely brushing yours. "I know you think you have to keep going, but you’re allowed to fall apart too. Let me be there when you do."

For a second, you forget how to breathe.

No one’s ever said that to you. You don't say anything right away. You’re afraid if you do, your voice might crack open too much, so you just nod, acknowledging his words. 

"Same time tomorrow?" Sungho asks as you finally pack up your books, the library growing quiet around you.

"Tomorrow," you agree. For the first time in weeks, you're looking forward to something that isn't an exam or an assignment.

You're looking forward to him.

RIWOO ⋆⑅˚₊

˖➴ PAIRING : quiet artist!riwoo x theater kid!reader

Lee Sanghyeok is poetry in motion, even when he thinks no one is watching.

You discover this quite by accident on a Thursday evening when you're rushing back to the theater for your forgotten script. The performing arts wing should be empty by now, all the after-school activities long finished, but as you pass the dance studio, music bleeds through the heavy doors, and you catch a glimpse of movement that steals your breath.

He dances like he's having a conversation with the music itself, every gesture deliberate yet effortless. His hair falls across his forehead as he moves, and there's an ethereal quality to the way he flows from one position to the next, as if gravity affects him differently than the rest of the world. You've seen him around school, of course, the quiet boy who sits in the back of art class, who walks the halls with his head down and his sketchbook clutched close to his chest. But this is like seeing a secret part of his soul.

You shouldn't be watching. But you can't seem to make yourself move, can't tear your eyes away from the graceful arch of his spine, the precise angles of his arms cutting through the air. He's beautiful in the way that demands him to be witnessed, even in solitude.

The music ends, and he comes to a stop in the centre of the room, chest rising and falling with quiet breaths. That's when he sees you through the window, and you watch his eyes widen in what looks like panic.

You should run, perhaps pretend this never happened, let him keep his secret sanctuary. Instead, you find yourself pushing open the studio door, stepping into his world uninvited.

"I'm sorry," you say quickly, holding up your hands in surrender. "I was just—my script—I didn't mean to spy, I just—"

"It's okay." His voice is softer than you expected, barely above a whisper. He reaches for a towel draped over the barre, not quite meeting your eyes. "I thought everyone had gone home."

"That was..." You struggle for words that won't sound empty or inadequate. "You're incredible."

Pink blooms across his cheeks, and he ducks his head in that shy way you've noticed in class. "It's nothing special. Just how I unwind."

"Nothing special?" You can't keep the disbelief out of your voice. "Sanghyeok, that was—it was like watching art come alive."

He glances up at you, vulnerability flickering in his dark eyes. "You know my name."

The question catches you off guard. "Of course I know your name. We've had classes together since sophomore year."

"You never..." He trails off, shaking his head. "Most people don't really see me."

There's heartbreak in the way he says it, as if invisibility is just another part of his daily routine. You want to tell him that he's wrong, that people are just too intimidated by his quiet intensity to approach. That half the girls in your grade have whispered about his mysterious appeal, wondered what it would be like to be noticed by Lee Sanghyeok.

"Well, I've always seen you," you say instead, and the words come out more earnest than you intended. 

He musters up the courage to look at you in the eyes, and you feel the air between you shift. The studio suddenly feels smaller, more intimate, filled with possibilities you hadn't considered before this moment.

"What were you working on?" you ask, partly to break the tension and partly because you genuinely want to know. "The dance—is it for a specific performance?"

"Just... expressing what I couldn't put into words." He gestures vaguely at the mirror. "Movement says what words can't."

You understand that feeling more than he knows. It's why you act, why you lose yourself in characters and scripts and the magic of becoming someone else for a few hours. "I get that. That's what theater is for me, finding ways to say the things that are too big for regular conversation."

Recognition sparks in his eyes, a shared understanding passing between you. "You're in the drama program."

"Guilty. Though I'm probably not very good at it." You laugh, suddenly self-conscious. "I saw you at our last production. You were there opening night, sitting in the back row."

"You noticed me in the audience?"

"I notice you everywhere," you admit, and immediately want to take it back. However, Sanghyeok doesn't look uncomfortable, if anything, he seems surprised, pleased even.

"I wanted to tell you afterwards that you were amazing," he says quietly. "But I didn't know how to approach you. You always seem so confident on stage, so sure of yourself."

"That's just acting," you tell him with a rueful smile. "Real me is significantly less put-together."

"I doubt that." He takes a step closer, close enough that you can see the fine sheen of sweat on his skin, smell the faint scent of his cologne mixed with exertion. "You want to try dancing?"

"Try what?"

"Dancing. With me." He extends a hand, palm up, waiting. "If you want. You don't have to—"

"Yes." The word comes out before you can second-guess yourself. "I mean, I'm not very good—"

"Neither was I when I started." His smile is small but genuine as you place your hand in his. "Just follow my lead."

He starts the music again. His hand settles on your waist, warm even through your sweater, and you try not to think about how perfectly you seem to fit together.

"Just feel the music," he murmurs, close enough that his breath tickles your ear. "Don't think about the steps. Just move."

It should be awkward, you've never been much of a dancer, more comfortable with scripted movements and blocked staging. But there's a quality to the way he guides you that makes it feel natural. When you stumble, he steadies you with gentle hands. When you get self-conscious, he distracts you with observations about rhythm and flow that make you forget to be nervous.

"See?" he says as the song winds down, and you realize you've been moving together without conscious thought, following the music and each other in equal measure. "You're a natural."

You're standing closer than you started, his hands still on your waist and yours having found their way to his shoulders. The studio is quiet except for your slightly uneven breathing, and you can see yourself reflected in his dark eyes.

"This is nice," you whisper, not wanting to break whatever spell has settled over you both.

"Yeah," he agrees, voice barely audible. "Really nice."

"Could we..." You bite your lip, suddenly nervous. "Could we do this again? I mean, if you don't mind sharing your space. I know this is your sanctuary—"

"I'd like that." He smiles, the kind that transforms his entire face, makes him look less mysterious and more like a boy your age who's just been asked on a date. 

As you finally step apart, gathering your forgotten script and preparing to leave him to his private world, you can't help but feel like the foundation of your reality has shifted. Like you've been let into a secret world that few people ever get to see.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" Sanghyeok asks as you reach the door, and there's hope in his voice that makes your heart skip.

"Tomorrow," you confirm, and you're already counting the hours until you can watch him dance again, until you can be part of his quiet magic once more.

Lee Sanghyeok has shown you a new way of expressing what words cannot capture, and you think you're falling for both the art and the artist.

JAEHYUN ⋆⑅˚₊

˖➴ PAIRING : energetic senior!jaehyun x chaotic junior!reader

The first time Myung Jaehyun and you interacted, you were arguing with a folding table.

Not just struggling with it, actively engaged in what appeared to be a heated philosophical debate about its structural integrity while half the student council watched in fascination. You'd arrived twenty minutes late to the festival planning meeting, knocked over three chairs in your haste to find a seat, and now stood toe-to-toe with an inanimate object like it had personally offended your entire bloodline.

"I think you're supposed to lift the latch first," Jaehyun offered as he approached. His voice carried that familiar teasing lilt that made teachers simultaneously want to throttle him and nominate him for student of the year.

You whirled around, cheeks flushed with embarrassment and indignation. "I know how tables work, thank you very much."

"Do you, though?" He tilted his head, studying you with barely concealed amusement. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you're losing."

The committee head, a stern-faced senior who treated festival planning like military strategy, cleared her throat pointedly. "As I was saying before the interruption, we need volunteers for setup crew. Since our newest member seems so... enthusiastic about furniture arrangement, she can assist Jaehyun with decorations."

Your mouth fell open in protest, but Jaehyun was already grinning, that infuriatingly smug expression that made your pulse quicken for reasons you refused to examine too closely.

"Looks like you're stuck with me, rookie."

The days into what you'd mentally dubbed "Festival Prep Hell," you'd learned several crucial facts about Myung Jaehyun :

First, he had an uncanny ability to appear whenever you were about to do anything remotely dangerous, stupid, or both. Second, his definition of "helping" involved a lot of commentary and very little actual assistance. Third, he had appointed himself your personal supervisor despite you never asking for, wanting, or needing one.

"You realize you're holding those scissors wrong," he observed from his perch on the art room windowsill, watching you cut paper streamers with the intensity of a nature documentarian studying an exotic species.

"I realize you're supposed to be helping instead of providing color commentary," you shot back, snipping another length of crepe paper with unnecessary force.

"I am helping. I'm preventing you from injuring yourself or others." He hopped down, sauntering over to peer at your work. "Besides, someone needs to make sure you eat. Speaking of which—"

He produced a triangle kimbap from his backpack, setting it on the desk beside your elbow with practiced ease. You'd stopped questioning where he acquired these snacks or why he'd decided feeding you was his responsibility. The alternative was admitting that his quiet attentiveness made your chest feel warm and fluttery, which was absolutely not happening.

"I'm not hungry," you lied, stomach choosing that exact moment to growl audibly.

"Uh-huh." Jaehyun's eyes crinkled with suppressed laughter. "And I'm not devastatingly handsome."

"Correct on both counts."

"Ouch." He pressed a hand to his heart in mock wounded. "You wound me, rookie. Here I am, generously sharing my food with an ungrateful underclassman—"

"Generously?" You finally looked up from your streamers, eyebrow raised. "You literally stole that from Sungho's lunch."

"Borrowed. There's a difference."

"The difference being that stealing implies you plan to return it?"

"Exactly." His grin widened. "See? You're learning."

Despite yourself, you found your lips twitching upward. This was the problem with Jaehyun, just when you'd worked up a proper head of indignation, he'd do or say something that made you want to laugh instead. It was infuriating and endearing in equal measure.

"Eat," he said, his voice gentler now. "You've been working for three hours straight."

"I'm fine."

"You're dead on your feet." Before you could protest, his hand was on your forehead, checking for fever with the casual intimacy of someone who'd been doing it for years instead of days. "When's the last time you slept? Not whatever you call that thing you do where you close your eyes for twenty minutes between assignments."

Heat crept up your neck at the contact, at the unexpected tenderness in his voice. "I sleep plenty."

"Rookie." The nickname sounded different this time, more affectionate than teasing. "You know you don't have to prove anything to anyone, right?"

Your hands stilled on the scissors. "I don't know what you mean."

"Sure you don't." He settled into the chair beside you, close enough that you could smell his cologne. "You've been running yourself ragged trying to show the committee you belong here. News flash : you already do."

"I'm a freshman who can't even set up a table correctly."

"You're a freshman who told the head of the planning committee that her colour scheme looked like a unicorn had a violent encounter with a rainbow." His shoulders shook with suppressed laughter. "Do you have any idea how long I've wanted to say that?"

You ducked your head, fighting a smile. "It did look like that, though."

"It absolutely did. And you had the guts to say it." His finger hooked under your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. "That's not something to be ashamed of, rookie. That's something to be proud of."

The art room fell quiet except for the distant sounds of other students in the hallway. Jaehyun's thumb brushed across your cheek, when had he gotten so close?—and you forgot how to breathe properly.

"Besides," he continued, voice dropping to a murmur, "I happen to like chaos. Keeps things interesting."

"I'm not chaotic," you whispered. "I'm just... enthusiastic."

"Is that what we're calling it?" His eyes were warm, crinkled at the corners with genuine fondness. "In that case, I'm enthusiastic about you being enthusiastic."

Before you could process what he meant by that, he was pulling back, ruffling your hair with practiced ease. "Good job today, rookie. But next time, eat the kimbap when I give it to you, yeah?"

You watched him gather his things, movements unhurried and confident. At the door, he paused, glancing back with that familiar grin.

"Oh, and for the record? Tomorrow we're bribing the janitor to let us use the good ladder for hanging decorations. I've got hot packs and chocolate milk."

"You can't just bribe people to make your life easier!"

"Watch me."

He was gone before you could formulate a proper response, leaving you alone with your paper streamers and the lingering scent of his cologne. You touched your cheek where his thumb had been, heart hammering against your ribs.

Myung Jaehyun was going to be the death of you.

TAESAN ⋆⑅˚₊

˖➴ PAIRING : grumpy musician!taesan x sunshine class rep!reader

Every morning began the same : the classroom door sliding open at precisely 7:45am, followed by your sunshine-bright voice cutting through pre-class murmurs.

"Good morning, everyone! Good morning, Tae-Tae!"

And every morning, Dongmin, known to most as Taesan, would respond with the same carefully calibrated grunt, eyes never lifting from the composition in his worn music notebook.

Today was no different. You placed your bag down before making a deliberate detour to his back corner desk, where he sat with headphones covering one ear.

"Here's the chemistry handout you missed yesterday," you announced, placing the paper atop his notebook. "And the college application deadline got moved up, it's on the second page."

His response was a barely perceptible nod, fingers continuing to sketch musical notations.

Most students would have retreated. But three years as class representative had taught you to recognize the difference between genuine hostility and practiced indifference. With Dongmin, the distance was carefully constructed.

"There's a faculty meeting fourth period, so we're having study hall," you continued. "Perfect timing for that history essay due Friday. Which you haven't started yet, have you?"

His pencil paused. "How do you know what I have or haven't started?"

You smiled triumphantly. "You always touch your left ear when you're behind on assignments."

His hand jerked away from his ear where his fingers had been tugging at his earring. The betrayal of his unconscious gesture sparked annoyance across his features.

"Don't you have morning announcements to obsess over?"

"All prepared! I even included your band's show this weekend."

Surprise quickly disguised as indifference flickered on his face. "You didn't have to do that."

"I wanted to. That's what friends do."

Before he could protest the label, you spun away, leaving him staring after you with bewildered frustration.

The cafeteria buzzed with lunchtime chaos when you spotted Dongmin at his usual corner table, guitar case beside him, music sheets spread as both creative outlet and social barrier.

You set your tray down across from him without asking permission.

"Not hungry again?" you asked, noticing his empty table.

He shrugged. "Forgot."

You sighed before producing a second lunch box from your bag. "Good thing I remembered for you."

His eyes narrowed. "You packed me lunch?"

"Just rice and kimchi. And those octopus sausages that were on sale." You pushed the container toward him. "Consider it payment for helping with the festival sound check."

"That was weeks ago."

"I'm very thorough with my debts."

He stared at the lunch box with frozen incomprehension before reluctantly pulling it towards himself.

"The vitamin C packet is in the side," you added. "You've been coughing since Tuesday."

"I don't need—"

"Just take it, Tae-Tae. Being grumpy is your personality, being sick is just inconvenient."

A passing classmate nearly stumbled at your audacity. Everyone knew Dongmin allowed only close friends to use his stage name Taesan. The diminutive "Tae-Tae" should have earned immediate banishment.

Yet somehow, you remained unexiled.

He unwrapped the chopsticks, mumbling what might have been "thank you."

When the bell rang, he had finished everything, even the vitamin drink.

"You didn't have to wait," he said, noticing you'd barely touched your own food while chatting.

You shrugged. "I like talking to you."

"Why?" The question escaped before he could contain it.

You tilted your head with unusual seriousness. "Because I think you're nice. Even if you pretend you're not."

The words hit him like an unexpected chord change. Emotions rippled through his features, confusion, denial, then fleeting tenderness that disappeared before you could place it.

He turned away abruptly. "You're delusional."

"Probably," you agreed cheerfully. "See you in math!"

As you walked away, you missed his fingers tracing the empty container's edge, or how his eyes followed you with an expression his bandmates would have recognized as panic.

Days later, you arrived at school with a slight fever and significantly less energy. Your morning greeting lacked volume, and you forgot the fire drill reminder.

During literature, you rested your head on your arms, closing eyes against too-bright fluorescent lights. When the lunch bell rang, you remained seated.

"You're sick."

You looked up to find Dongmin beside you, his perpetual frown deepened with suspicious concern.

"Just tired," you insisted.

"Your face is red. And you didn't harass me about the math assignment."

"You didn't turn in the—" You stopped, recognizing the trap. "You did turn it in."

His mouth twitched. "You're slipping, Class Rep."

He placed a bottle on your desk, cold green tea, your favourite brand.

"Drink this instead of that sugary coffee."

You stared at the bottle, then at him, uncharacteristically speechless.

"It's just tea," he muttered. "Don't make it weird."

"Did you... buy this for me?"

"You gave me vitamin C." He said it like the connection was obvious.

A smile spread across your face despite fatigue. "Tae-Tae, that's so sweet."

"Stop calling me that," he grumbled with notably less irritation.

"Never."

He sighed, resigned. "You should go home if you're sick."

"Can't. Student council meeting after school."

He observed you before reaching a decision. "Give me your phone."

Too tired to argue, you unlocked and handed it over. He typed quickly before returning it. On screen, you saw he'd added his contact information.

"Text me after your meeting. I'll walk you home."

Your eyebrows rose. "Really?"

"You'll probably pass out on the subway otherwise," he said defensively. "And then I'd have to listen to everyone talk about how the perfect class rep collapsed. It would be annoying."

"Can't have you annoyed," you agreed solemnly, though your smile betrayed understanding.

True to his word, Dongmin waited outside the student council room. When you emerged looking exhausted, he wordlessly took your backpack.

On the crowded train, he positioned himself beside you, one arm braced overhead, body angled to shield you from pressing commuters.

"This is my home," you said, stopping before your apartment building.

He returned your backpack. For a moment, he seemed on the verge of saying something, hands shoved in pockets.

"Thank you for walking me home."

"It's nothing," he responded, then reconsidered. "You should rest tomorrow. The class can survive one day without your excessive enthusiasm."

You smiled weakly. "Is that your grumpy way of saying you'd miss me?"

He scoffed but didn't deny it. "Just take care of yourself for once instead of everyone else."

You missed the next day, fever worsening. Your phone filled with messages from classmates, and among them, a single text from Dongmin : Did you eat?

You replied : Soup. You?

His response came quickly : Yes.

Then : The classroom is too quiet.

The admission warmed you more than your fever.

When you returned, you found a small package on your desk : throat lozenges, vitamin C, and a handwritten note with music recommendations labelled "Songs for Recovery."

You glanced at Dongmin, who sat pretending to read, ears betrayingly pink. When your eyes met, he quickly looked away, but not before you caught his relieved expression.

"Good morning, Tae-Tae," you called, voice still hoarse.

His response, though quiet, was distinctly more than his usual grunt :

"Morning."

As much as he'd hate to admit it, he'd been waiting for his sunshine to return.

LEEHAN ⋆⑅˚₊

˖➴ PAIRING : popular pretty boy!leehan x shy science nerd!reader

Kim Donghyun is the kind of beautiful that makes people stop mid-sentence when he walks into a room. All sharp jawlines and soft eyes, with an effortless grace that makes even the most mundane activities look like they belong in a magazine spread. So when Ms Chen announces that he's your lab partner for the semester-long marine biology project, you nearly choke on your own saliva. 

"Looks like we're stuck with each other," he says, sliding into the seat next to you with that easy smile that's probably launched a thousand crushes. Up close, he's even more devastating, long lashes, perfect skin, the kind of natural beauty that should be illegal in high school settings.

You manage a squeaky "yeah" in response, already mentally preparing for a semester of doing all the work while he coasts by on his looks and charm. It's not fair to assume, but you've been burned by pretty partners before.

"So, marine ecosystems," Donghyun continues, pulling out a notebook that's surprisingly well-organized. "I was thinking we could focus on coral reef symbiosis? The relationship between clownfish and sea anemones is fascinating from both a biological and chemical perspective."

You blink at him, certain you've misheard. "You... want to study clownfish?"

"Well, the broader ecosystem, but yeah. Did you know that clownfish aren't actually immune to anemone stings? They build up immunity gradually by carefully exposing themselves to the mucus." His eyes light up as he talks, and there's genuine excitement in his voice that catches you completely off guard. "It's this incredible example of mutualistic symbiosis that most people think is just cute fish living in pretty flowers."

"You know about marine biology?"

He laughs, and the sound is warm and genuine. "I know I don't look like the type, but I've been obsessed with aquatic ecosystems since I was ten. I have three saltwater tanks at home and volunteer at the aquarium downtown on weekends."

This revelation is so far from what you expected that you actually stare at him for a moment. Kim Donghyun, who you've seen being voted for homecoming court and having lunch surrounded by the most popular kids in school, spends his free time cleaning fish tanks?

"That's... actually really cool," you admit, and his smile grows wider.

"Right? Most people think it's weird. My friends are always trying to drag me to parties when I'd rather be home watching my corydoras or reading about new conservation efforts." He leans forward conspiratorially. "Don't tell anyone, but I have names for all my fish. My runny nose tetra is called Professor Bubbles because he's very serious and intellectual-looking."

The giggle that escapes you is involuntary, and Donghyun's expression brightens like he's just won a prize.

"See, I knew you'd get it. You're always reading those marine conservation articles before class starts. I've been wanting to ask you about that paper on coral bleaching you were annotating last week."

"You noticed that?"

"I notice a lot of things, like how you light up during the ecology units, or how you always have the best questions during lab discussions. I was actually excited when Ms Chen paired us up."

Your brain struggles to process this information. Kim Donghyun, noticed you? Was excited to work with you? "But you could have anyone as a partner. People were literally volunteering to switch—"

"Why would I want to work with people who see this as an easy A when I could work with someone who actually cares about the subject?" He starts sketching out ideas for your project, his handwriting neat and precise. "Besides, I have a confession. I may know about marine life, but I'm terrible at the statistical analysis part. I was hoping you could help me with that side of things."

"You want my help?"

"Partnership means playing to each other's strengths, right?" He grins, and there's genuine warmth in it that makes your chest flutter. "I'll handle the biological research and species identification, you handle the data analysis and statistical modeling. Together we'll probably ace this thing."

Over the next few weeks, you discover that Donghyun is nothing like what you expected. He shows up to every study session with homemade flashcards and detailed notes, gets genuinely excited about discussing nitrogen cycles and pH levels, and has an encyclopedic knowledge of fish behaviour that rivals your textbooks.

He's also surprisingly goofy, making terrible fish puns that shouldn't be funny but somehow are, doing silly voices when he reads scientific papers aloud, and getting distracted by every aquarium they pass when you visit the marine centre for research.

"Oh my god, look at that parrotfish," he whispers during one of your field research trips, pressing close to the glass with the wonder of a five year old. "Look at those colours! And the way it's reorganizing the substrate—they're such meticulous little architects."

You find yourself watching him more than the fish, charmed by his unguarded enthusiasm. This is so different from the cool, collected version of himself he presents at school, and you realize you might be seeing the Kim Donghyun who cares more about marine conservation than maintaining his image.

"You're really passionate about this," you observe as he takes detailed notes on fish behavior patterns.

"My dream is to study marine biology in college, maybe work in conservation someday." He looks almost embarrassed by the admission. "I know it's not what people expect from me."

"Why do you care what people expect?"

The question seems to catch him off guard. He's quiet for a moment, watching a school of tropical fish swim in perfect synchronization. "I guess I've gotten used to being what people want me to be. The pretty face, the popular guy, the one who makes everything look effortless." He glances at you sideways. "But it's exhausting pretending you don't care about things just because it's not cool to be passionate."

"For what it's worth, I think passion is attractive. The way you talk about marine ecosystems... it's like watching you come alive."

Pink creeps across his cheeks, and he ducks his head with a shy smile that's entirely different from his usual confident grin. "Really?"

"Really. I've learned more from you in three weeks than I did in the entire first semester."

"Same here. You make the statistical analysis actually make sense instead of just being numbers on a page." He bumps your shoulder gently. "Plus, you're the only person who doesn't tune out when I start rambling about symbiotic relationships."

"I like your rambling."

"I like that you like it," he says quietly.

Two months into your partnership, you're not sure when exactly Donghyun stopped being your intimidatingly beautiful lab partner and became simply the boy who brings you coffee during long research sessions, who texts you pictures of his fish with increasingly ridiculous captions, who stays after class to debate conservation policies with the same intensity other guys bring to sports.

"We should celebrate," he says after you receive your project grades, an A+ with a note from Ms Chen praising your thorough research and innovative analysis.

"Celebrate how?"

"The aquarium is having a night dive program this weekend. Would you want to go? As partners in academic crime?" His smile is hopeful, nervous in a way that's endearingly human. "I promise I'll try to control my excitement about seeing nocturnal feeding behaviours."

"I'd love to," you say, and the way his face lights up makes you realize that you've fallen for Donghyun, not the popular pretty boy everyone else sees, but the passionate, goofy, genuine person he trusts you enough to be.

"Perfect. It's a date." He pauses, seeming to realize what he's said. "I mean, if you want it to be. A date, that is. It could just be a friendly educational outing between lab partners who happen to—"

"Donghyun."

"Yeah?"

"I'd love for it to be a date."

WOONHAK ⋆⑅˚₊

˖➴ PAIRING : protective basketball athlete!woonhak x transfer student!reader

Whispers stirred through homeroom like a breeze before a storm, and Ms Park’s usual monotone took on a rare edge of anticipation as she cleared her throat and said, “Class, please welcome our new transfer student.”

You stood beside her desk, clutching your schedule with white knuckles, eyes fixed on a mysterious scuff mark on the linoleum floor. The classroom felt cavernous, thirty pairs of eyes burning into you like searchlights.

"Would you like to introduce yourself?" Ms Park prompted gently.

You mumbled your name, hometown, and a forgettable fact about yourself before sliding into the only empty desk available. 

That's when you felt a gaze so persistent it practically warmed your skin. You glanced up to find a boy with tousled dark hair and a smile that could power a small city staring directly at you. His uniform tie hung slightly crooked, but everything else about him radiated perfection.

He waved. At 8:17am in the morning. Who does that?

You offered a tentative half-smile before returning your attention to unpacking your notebook. But the intensity of his attention lingered like perfume.

When class ended, he materialized beside your desk with supernatural speed.

"I'm Woonhak," he announced, as if introducing a celebrity. "Kim Woonhak. I'm the class representative and captain of the basketball team." His enthusiasm bordered on excessive for this ungodly hour of morning. "You picked a great day to transfer, the cafeteria's serving tteokbokki today."

You blinked at him. "That's... useful information."

"I can show you around if you want. The school's layout makes zero sense."

“I think I can manage," you replied, but with less ice than intended.

Woonhak's smile never faltered. "Cool, cool. Offer stands. See you at lunch?"

Before you could respond that you hadn't agreed to any lunch plans, he'd bounced away to high-five someone across the room.

Your plan had been to eat alone, to blend into the scenery until you found your footing. But when you entered the cafeteria, Woonhak spotted you instantly as if he'd been watching the door, and waved with such vigor you worried he might dislocate something.

"Saved you a seat!" he called out, drawing attention from nearby tables.

You considered pretending not to hear him, but that would require explaining yourself tomorrow, which seemed more exhausting than just surrendering to his relentless friendliness.

"You didn't have to do that," you said, sliding onto the bench opposite him.

"I know." He pushed a small carton of banana milk towards you. "They always run out, so I grabbed an extra."

You stared at the carton, unsure how to process this random act of kindness. "Thanks."

Lunch with Woonhak meant meeting his entire social circle, which appeared to encompass half the student body. He introduced you to everyone who passed, pronouncing your name with such pride you'd think he'd invented it himself.

"How do you know so many people?" you asked when the parade of introductions finally paused.

He shrugged, mouth full of rice. After swallowing, he said, "I've lived in this neighbourhood my whole life. It's impossible not to know everyone eventually."

His popularity seemed effortless, yet he chose to spend lunch with the new girl. "You don't have to babysit me, you know."

His eyebrows shot up. "Babysit? Is that what you think this is?"

"I don't know what this is."

His expression softened. "This is me making a friend. Unless you'd rather be left alone? I can respect boundaries, my mom says I come on too strong sometimes."

The naked honesty in his voice disarmed you. "No, it's...fine. I'm just not used to people being so..."

"Charming? Devastatingly handsome?"

You rolled your eyes, but couldn't suppress a smile. "I was going to say 'persistent.'"

His laughter rang clear and genuine. "Fair enough."

Days blurred into weeks. Woonhak's morning greetings became as reliable as sunrise. He started walking you to classes even when they weren't on his route, claiming he "needed the exercise" despite his obviously athletic physique.

"Everyone's staring at us," you whispered as you entered the gymnasium where Woonhak's basketball team was practicing. You'd agreed, against better judgment, to watch. 

"They're just not used to seeing me with such an intimidating person," he whispered back.

"Intimidating? Me?"

"Absolutely. You've got that mysterious transfer student aura. Very exclusive."

You snorted. "You're ridiculous."

"Part of my charm."

You settled on the bleachers while Woonhak jogged to join his teammates. Watching him transform from goofy hallway companion to focused athlete was fascinating. His movements became precise, calculated, as if he'd shed a layer of himself when stepping onto the court.

After practice, you waited by the gym doors, scrolling through your phone. You didn't notice the approach of three players until their shadows fell across your screen.

"You're the new girl, right?" The tallest one asked. His hair was still damp from the showers, his uniform shirt unbuttoned at the collar.

You nodded.

"I'm Minje. Team vice-captain." His smile carried confidence that bordered on arrogance. "We're heading to get bubble tea. Wanna join?"

Before you could answer, Woonhak appeared beside you, gym bag slung over his shoulder. His usual smile seemed different, tight around the edges.

"She can't," he said, voice unusually firm. "We have plans."

Minje's eyebrows rose. "Do you? Or are you just saying that?"

"We're working on her literature assignment," Woonhak replied smoothly, though this was news to you.

"I didn't know you two were so... close," Minje said, looking between you with renewed interest.

"We're not—" you began.

"Running late," Woonhak interrupted, gently tugging your sleeve. "See you guys tomorrow."

Once outside, you pulled your arm free. "What was that about? We don't have plans."

His cheeks flushed pink. "Sorry. Those guys are my friends, but they can be... I just thought you might not want to..."

Understanding dawned. "Are you jealous?"

"What? No! I'm just..." He ran a hand through his hair, mussing it further. "Protective."

"I don't need protection, Woonhak."

"I know that." His voice softened. "Trust me, I know how capable you are. But Minje collects phone numbers like Pokémon cards.”

"We could get bubble tea," you suggested. "If you want."

His face brightened immediately. "Really?"

"Don't make a big deal about it."

"I would never," he said, already bouncing slightly on his toes. "Except it is kind of a big deal because this is the first time you've initiated plans with me, which means you officially consider me a friend now, which is a significant milestone in our—"

"I'm rethinking this already."

He laughed, falling into step beside you. "No take-backs."

@coriihanniee 💌

˖➴ reblogs are appreciated! ty for reading! <3

taglist: @lvlyhiyyih @supi-wupi @tinyelfperson @8makes1atom @s0shroe @imhereonlytoreadxoxo @mydeepestsecrects @brownetry @pumpkg @heeheesang @jungwonbropls @prodkwh @reibelhearts @beomev @taetnyangieee

[chiya-eltanin]

hm. dont usually put my own two cents for theories but somethings been kind of annoying me recently so yeah. ralsei thoughts.

i really dont like the idea that ralsei is a specific object. especially not with newer stuff from chapters 3 and 4.

For starters, most people that try to figure out what ralsei is in the real world are basing it off of this appearance

however, I feel like there's plenty of evidence to point to this not being his real form, right? People have already pointed out that his original shadowed form isn't fully consistent. It's possibly the most obvious when you compare his singing animations in both forms. His hat form makes what was later 'revealed' to be his ears look more like hair?,

Ears don't really split the same way that hair does, and theres other examples of hatsei having this kind of spikyness to his 'ears' that hatless ralsei doesnt have.

even the fangamer plush makes his ears spiky!!

its a pretty major part of how hatsei looks, and its certainly been talked about before. And then comes chapter 3+4. And we have plenty of evidence that ralsei is a shapeshifter, and I have seen literally nobody talk about it????? huh?????

Oh, and the hat casting a shadow on him makes no fucking sense because he goes onto wear SEVERAL hats in chapter 3 and he's normal????

also I know its like. A funny bit, but HE TURNS INTO A HORSE

WHY THE FUCK WOULD KRIS'S HEADBAND TURN INTO A HORSE???? WHY WOULD A GREEN CRAYON TURN INTO A HORSE???? WHY CAN HE DO THIS????? THIS ISNT A COSTUME THATS NOT HOW THEY WORK????? WHERE WOULD HIS BODY GO.

not to mention that changing shapes was literally his ability in the legend of tenna game???? he plays it off like 'oh every character has abilities i can turn into a box' but he can also turn into a dog? since ralsei was the only one who read the manual it very well could be an ability given to him since the real Ralsei is also a shapeshifter.

It would also explain why ralsei draws himself in his hat form

thats closer to what his natural form is. Dont have any screenshots on hand right now, but he's got two lines in chapter four (if you leave him lying on the ground for too long, and right before they find the first fountain) about how much longer he can 'keep this body for' that make it very obvious that he's only using a form that looks cuter to appeal to us. Him being a shapeshifter would also explain things like

His face being a deliberately made abstraction would also make this interaction make a lot more sense. Pre chapter three, I assumed Ralsei based his face on Asriel to either try appealing to Kris or as fanservice for the player/red soul, however, now that we've slowly started learning more about Ralsei, it's beginning to seem more like Ralsei just wants to have a face and more distinct appearance, like the lightners do. However, because of how dark worlds work, he can only base it off of what already exists, with that already existing 'model' being Asriel, although with modifications to make himself cuter— pink horns and eyes, and his usual glasses. It's why Kris is always quick to point out differences between them, and why Ralsei is embarrassed at being told that they look similar, he didn't have a choice other than be based off something that already exists.

Alright, so Ralsei is a shapeshifter. He still has to have some equivalent in the Light World though, since that's how Dark Worlds work. He was literally about to tell Susie what he was before getting interrupted, and Toby Fox is deliberately dancing around the topic.

However, I think the answer is actually pretty obvious. Ralsei is a being of 'pure darkness', which is why he can exist in any Dark World, unlike Lancer and Rouxls, who need to be objects that 'belong' in their respective worlds. His form is made up by the original dark fountain, and he describes himself as a 'Prince of the Dark'. Characters in the Dark World know about what happens to and around their real world equivalents, but Ralsei in particular seems to be especially aware of all of Susie and Kris's actions and movements. He doesn't need to be brought in by Kris like Lancer and Rouxls do, and he always appears in the Dark World a few moments after Susie and Kris do, while somehow almost always having pretty intimate knowledge of how the world came to be. Ralsei is also the most adamant on being depended on by Lightners, even more than people like Tenna. He talks about how a Darkners role is to be used by Lightners and to make them happy, and his character development in Chapter 3 especially goes into how he wants to be needed and how he's afraid he's slowly developing his own personality, and why he believes darkners shouldn't do that.

So, taking all of that into account, I feel like the most obvious answer for what Ralsei is is a shadow.

He's a literal prince of the dark. It explains why he can shapeshift, since shadows can be made to look like anything— I'm specifically thinking of things like shadow puppets, and why when he gets knocked out he seems to literally disappear, returning to the shadows. A shadow is also the most dependant on light, shadows literally cannot exist without light, or they'll just be darkness. It even explains his empty room.

His insistence that his only role is to help the Lightners, the way that people can never find anything notable about him (asking swatch for specials his suggestion for Ralsei is based purely on how he dresses and Queen literally forgets to get him a cage), and his ability to be in any dark world (since there's literally nowhere without shadows) all seem to point towards Ralsei being a shadow.

Ralsei being a shadow also means he's literally with you in the dark, could probably straight up not exist if the world was plunged into darkness, and also makes him a weaker version of a titan (explaining the 'prince' title. not quite king, but noble nontheless).

[moonlight-ba3]

hiiiii, so basically just seen your master list and was wondering if i could request a Jack Hughes x fem! Reader fic

So basically the reader is okay at skating but want to get better at it since she is dating a literal ice hockey player (jack hughes) so she starts showing up to the rink early in the morning to practice and one day jack shows up and begins to help the reader with her skating :)

Skating help 

pairing:jack hughes x reader

summary:you want some extra help with your skating but to scared to ask for help, good thing your dating a nhl player 

a/n:fluff, thank you for the request :), also I gave up like halfway through, not proofread!!

I wake up to my alarm blaring in my ears. I groan turning it off, my eyes start to close again before I feel something licking me. I groan again, realizing it’s my dog, Vanilla.

‘’Ok, im up girl’’ I tell her as she keeps licking me.

As I get up and walk towards the kitchen to make some coffee, I hear my phone go off I pick it up to see a text from my boyfriend, Jack.

Wanna get breakfast??

I stare at it, too scared to tell him im going to the rink.

I haven’t told him I’ve been going for a while.

Maybe I should tell him.

No, it’s gonna be so embarrassing if he asks to come and sees how horrible I am at it.

I can’t woke up with a bad headache.

He responded almost immediately 

Do you want me to come over?

No its ok

Okay, I love you

Love you too

I let out a deep breath, looking down at Vanilla she stares back up at me like she knows what just happened.

As I get ready I keep thinking about how I should tell him how long I’ve been doing this.

He won’t find out.

At least not yet.

𐙚⋆°｡⋆♡

A few days pass, with the same routine wake up, lie to Jack, go to the rink.

But today when I went I noticed a familiar person.

Its Jack.

I turn around ready to walk out, before I hear somebody call out my name. I turn around.

‘’What are you doing here?’’ I ask him.

‘’To help you.’’ He tells me causally.

‘’How did you even know I was here?’’

‘’We can see each other’s locations, remember.”

I completely forgot about that.

‘’You’ll help me?’’

‘’Of course, I will’’

I let out a soft laugh.

‘’Come on show me what you got.’’ He tells me as he gets my skates out.

Jack helps me put them on, he insisted that he had to, I look down at him admiring the way his fingers move softly through the laces and his hair falling in front of eyes. He pats my knees, pulling me out of my trance.

We walk over to the rank. A wave of anxiety slightly hits me. 

He puts his hand in mine.

‘’Im here to help, not to judge’’ He assures me.

I take a deep breath, before stepping on the ice.

We skate around the rink, my legs wobbling a little bit, Jack right beside me the whole time.

When we reach the end, I start to loose my balance, thankfully Jack was right there to catch me.

‘’Caught you.’’ He smiles at me.

He puts me back on my feet, hands still on my waist.

‘’I think you did really good, but make sure you have more bend in your knees.’’

‘’Thank you’’

He smiles back at me, before giving me a kiss on the lips. 

‘’Anytime, again, Im here to help you not judge.’’

When we finally put all our stuff up and leave. We go back to my apartment.

‘’Thank you for your help, I needed it.’’ I tell him.

‘’Of course Im here whenever you need me.”

[thetrasha]

HI! i loved your past headcanons about benn beckman, could you please write a once shot with a f reader that he met at a bar who is younger? (like early 20s) i really loved the flirt headcanons that you wrote♥️

Sure thing, anon 🫡Thank you so much for liking that post, means a lot to get feedback on my stuff (✿◡‿◡) And now I get to flesh out the idea, hooray!! I hope you like this one, too

I feel like I've somehow attracted all the Beckman girlies, ngl ☕Well... You're getting fed with this one at least LOL

Lover Boy at Play

BENN BECKMAN EDITION

You’d been minding your own business inside a rundown tavern at the edge of your home island. It’s been some time since you’ve seen the outskirts of the villages surrounding the city, but it was still a nostalgic experience that brought back feelings you had long forgotten about on your journey to become who you are today. You remember learning how to swim near the cliffs and you caught your first fish here, too. Fond memories clung to this place, even if the shops and other businesses here haven’t changed in twenty years, perhaps even longer. Maybe that’s why you were drawn to this place after you finished school and got your first job. You got your first taste of the madness of adult life – this very region here made you and you cannot help but look back with a smile, grateful for every image that resembled your childhood so much.

Still, this nostalgic bar should have, at the very least, adjusted the menu over the course of so many years! Luxuries were still rare in these rural areas, but… this was incredibly bleak and barren.

“Excuse me! Sir. Sir. Oh. Yes! It’s me… yes, yes, haha… I grew up… Yes, I finished school a few years ago. Oh? Uh-huh. Top of my class, yup. Y-you saw me in the newspaper? That’s so sweet… and so… embarrassing, hah. Huh? Yes, I have a job. I work as– Uh… thanks! Um… yes, my mum’s fine. Dad too. …I will pass it on then, yeah. So… um, –yes! I’m sure they’d love to come here. Yes, we still live in the city. I just moved out, though! But… do you mind making me a cocktail?”

You awkwardly conversed with the aged owner you haven’t seen in at least ten years, remembering how much he scolded you and your friends for playing in front of his bar when you were children. Looking back, he was probably looking out for you guys, but you couldn’t help but like him a lot more now that he’s completely mellowed down and seemingly enjoying his retirement in the place he built all by himself.

Even if the look he gave you was kind of funny.

He immediately called his son, who’d been manning the bar, over to ask him what “young people” liked to drink these days… And you didn’t have the heart to tell either of them that his son was at least fifteen years older than you and couldn’t possibly know either…

Well, the simplicity of life around here was pretty much what you expected, so you may have to make due with a lukewarm beer or a double-shot espresso. Sigh…

You were so focused on the situation at hand that you haven’t even noticed that… the clientele inside of this bar was… well, rather unusual.

And every pair of eyes subtly followed you around, nothing that you were just a city girl that stumbled into a bar for pirates. This time around, by the way, the pirates in question were not just some nobodies – they were an Emperor of the Sea and his entire crew… and you were none the wiser.

“Pretty thing.”, Shanks chuckled quietly, moving his hand in a circular motion that had the ice in his whisky rhythmically clinking against the glass.

The men at the table nodded.

Roux might as well have had stars in his eyes at the sight of you. Girls like you were nowhere to be found at sea, you were… so cute and so pretty. You easily looked like a princess.

Yasopp looked at your attire – civilian. No status, nothing. Just hard work and a face that belonged on a poster. The good kind. Man, he really didn’t think they made him like you anymore, but goddamn…

Benn sighed at this circus, walking up to you with an unspoken swagger in his steps. His heavy physique would have made the wooden planks creak under his boots if it weren’t for his feather-light steps that gave him the grace of a cat… and the silenced movements of an actual killer.

“Hey there, sweetheart.”

You were alerted by a sudden presence to your right. This voice was entirely unfamiliar to you, so you turned your head with wide eyes and a slightly startled pout on your lips, trying to decipher who was trying to waste your time on this special occasion.

“Hello…?”

What you saw was beyond surprising. You’d barely snapped your eyes up at the man who’s come to bother you before the sheer thickness of his frame registered in your brain. This man was big and burly – and the deep groves in his cheeks silently told the tale of someone who’s seen some things, while his scarred, calloused hands reminded you of the fact that he certainly did some things as well. It was glaringly obvious that he was dangerous, but he didn’t even give you the chance to turn him down! As soon as he opened his mouth, yours stood wide agape.

“Do me a favour and do not entertain any of these idiots over there.”

He jerked his head to the side and put extra emphasis on his ridiculous statement by pointing his thumb straight into the direction he just emerged from. He rolled his grey eyes, seemingly bored with this conversation… like he’s done this a million times before. How weird.

“…Okay? But… you’re the first and only stranger to talk to me.”

That earned yourself a hearty laugh that made you feel incredibly small compared to this imposing man. You rubbed your elbows in self-consciousness as your cheeks heated up in shame upon stating the obvious to a man who was greying… You felt like you were wasting his time now. This man took charge of the whole situation with a single stern look and easily dominated the conversation with his charisma – you’ll never know why he wanted to talk to you in particular.

“Oh, believe me, Doll. They’re just itching to be in my place. Bet they’re watching me right now.”

You subtle glanced over his shoulder. It was hard to see anything at all; he was just that tall, but you did indeed caught glimpses of his friends (?) who were silently fuming in their seats, totally mocking him by puffing out their chest and repeating the nicknames he’s called you.

“Yeah, they are. How did you know?”, you questioned. You’d pretty much figured that they were pirates by now, but that didn’t tell you anything about your acquaintance’s perception skills. Maybe he was naturally that good at reading the room, who knows…

“How did I know, sweetheart? I’ve been living with these clowns for more than ten years. I know ‘em like the back of my hand.” “Sounds like you really love them.”, you replied with a breathy chuckle, then taking a sip of the cocktail you’d just ordered. It wasn’t what you were used to, but you liked it. They used syrup to sweeten the rum and added water to dilute it even more, which you thought was a cute gesture. “Clever girl.”

His voice dropped an octave, gaze equally as darkened. Your breath hitched at that – ah, so this is where this was going. The worst thing was that you didn’t even mind because he’d marinated you too well to refuse him now. You just had to see how this ends… No risk, no reward. “Also sounds like you wanted to prove a point to these ‘clowns’.”

“Go on…”, he leaned against a nearby barrel, crossing his gigantic arms over his masculine chest.

“I mean… I’m feeling pretty charmed right now.”, you sighed dramatically, clearly making fun of the situation which the naughty stranger immediately picked up on with an amused shake of his head, “Sounds to me like you still got it.”

You took one look at him again. He was handsome in a sort of rugged way, marked by years of hard labour and legendary brawls. The scars at his temples caught your eye, noting the deep cut that went well into his hairline. What in the world happened to receive those?

“Damn, woman after my own heart.”, he churred in his deep voice; he even held out his hand and you thought he wanted to shake yours, but before you had the chance to react, he’d already pulled you in to kiss your knuckles, “Name’s Benn, by the way. Hey, you mind giving me that in writing? Wanna show it off to everyone I know.”

“Don’t think you need to do that, Benn. Think they heard just fine.”, you winked, feeling pretty flirtatious right now, too. And you were just in luck – because Benn decided to play along and playfully hit the top of the barrel he was leaning on, smiling ever so slightly as he raised his arms in defence.

“Aw snap, I’ve been found out…”, he paused briefly before a hand landed right behind you on the bar you were sitting at, almost caging you in, “But you could still give me your name and number, love. You know, to have you as an available witness.” You snorted, but obliged with his request. Not even his silly excuse could hide the measured mischief in his voice. He was just… a complete and utter tease. He was lucky that his shamelessness was hypnotic to the point of seduction.

“Thanks, (Y/N). Gorgeous name.”, he smirked, “See you around. Enjoy your drink, I already paid for it.”

You couldn’t but giggle at the chorus of groans that followed that flirty stranger returning to his table and showing them a certain slip of paper.

[lupinescribbler]

Tips to Writing Emotional Dialogue!

No hard and fast rules here, just some things I've seen in media and incorporate into my writing that I think can help emotional dialogue hit the mark. Use or discard as suits your writing/story!

Build up!

Emotional dialogue will hit harder when the groundwork has already been set. There's lots of ways to do that. One is what I call the "naming", let something exist in the story without being properly addressed or labeled, until it finally is. A character bitterly saying "I never was (a child)" (hello Dean Winchester) is going to hit a thousand times harder if you've already seen that. If you've seen glimpses of their childhood, or how their childhood has affected their adulthood, if there's been jokes or throw away lines, or stories/storylines that surround that idea without naming it, if you've watched the character come to turns with it, or treat it blithely, or hide it. You need to build something up in order to pay it off.

2. Action!

Dialogue in general, especially long stretches of dialogue, can end up feeling stale when nothing is happening during it. I tend to like to use action to reflect and support the dialogue. I don't mean action as in a fight scene (imo, drawn out conversations in the middle of a fight scene can end up feeling too unrealistic). I try to focus on how an action can serve as a backdrop to reflect the emotion of the conversation of the scene. If a character has been avoiding the issue they could avoid it both verbally and physically by performing a distracting task (taking the groceries in, sharpening their sword, fixing their car, etc). Or it could reflect something about the lifestyle of the characters or their current headspace. I also like using action to reflect the emotions entering into and progressing through the dialogue. Is the task frustrating them? Do they abandon the task when the dialogue starts intensifying, or redouble their efforts? What can happen in the action to progress it alongside the conversation? Do they slam the fridge door? Do they ask the other person to pass them a wrench? Do they give up?

3. Setting + Context!

Similar to action, but often more passively, I like using the setting to influence or emotionally enhance the conversation. How does the environment shape how the characters are feeling or the conversation unfolds? Are two people having an argument in a public place, one embarrassed and trying to shut it down while the other escalates? Are they shoulder to shoulder in the cabin of a sinking ship, listening to water sloshing, thinking they're going to die and they better get this off their chest? I find describing some actions and environmental factors can help change the pacing of a conversation, generally by slowing it. If there's a pause in the dialogue, make the readers and not just the characters feel it.

4. Tone + Expression + Movements!

These can be delicate to balance. Personally, I tend to overemphasize the tone character's are speaking in, and am working on doing just what is necessary to establish the emotion instead of everything possible. Mostly I'd recommend 1) focusing on where a description of tone/expression/movement is most helpful/impactful. 2) varying how and what you're describing (don't have someone shrug a million times in a scene, or voice crack every sentence, etc. It will mean less every time it pops up). 3) Vary long/prosy stuff with stuff that's short and hard hitting. Be willing to cut out good lines to make better lines hit harder. If you tend towards either one of the other (long vs short) edit through to add more variation in the other direction. 4) Weigh exact word choice, especially if you're naturally more wordy (like me, lol) sometimes you have to sacrifice a little nuance for impact, and sometimes you can switch out two words to a third that encapsulates both, etc. Or if you tend to be short, you might figure out a place where an added description would add more clarify and nuance.

Final thoughts:

I hope this was readable and maybe helpful :) my best recommendation is always to reflect on what best suits your voice, and what you find most impactful in what you read/watch. So many different voices/styles of writing can crush an emotional scene in their own way. For example, I've been reading Jack Reacher recently, which has a way more blunt, taciturn, and factual approach to emotions/emotionally heavy scenes, and frequently knocks them out of the park in ways I never would have thought of.

[humzbird]

Has anyone else noticed how unique of a character Vasily is? Not in terms of his personality and behaviors, but with the role he plays inside and outside the story?

Okay, let me explain.

His character occupies a very particular niche in the fandom, and I think it's a large part of why he's so disproportionately popular despite how minor of a role he plays in the story. Now, what even is this thing that makes him unique?

Let's go over some of his key characteristics, shall we?

He's an outsider to the main plot

He's a dork

He's an artist

He's obsessed with Ogata

In other words, Vasily is a fanboy. But not just any fanboy, oh no.

Vasily. Is. Us!

Think about it! Isn't it remarkably easy for us Ogata lovers and creators to project ourselves onto him? Haven't you noticed that there's a whole subgenre of Golden Kamuy fan content that's just people depicting Vasily as a cringe fanartist who's obsessed with his blorbo?

Lowkey, I think we all collectively just find it cathartic that there's a character in canon who's equally, if not more deranged about Ogata than most of us will ever be. Not only do we recognize his behavior in ourselves, but in a weird way, it's kind of healing as well. Especially for those of us who have ever had any shame tied to our fandom experiences throughout our lives. I know I used to be way more embarrassing about this kind of stuff when I was younger. But thanks to Vasily (aka: Noda), now I have the unique opportunity to confront that shame in a fun, socially acceptable way.

Because of all this, Vasily within the story is functionally a stand-in for the fans. Specifically, all the fans out there who simultaneously like Ogata, but who also want to throttle him with their bare hands (there's a hilarious amount of overlap in that venn diagram). I've been in many other fandoms before, and I've never seen anything quite like Vasily. On the rare occasions that other media does have fan stand-in characters, they're usually one-offs that are treated with mockery or disdain. I have no idea if Noda ever intended to have Vasily be a fan stand-in, but he's insane for pulling it off really well regardless.

Tl;dr: Vasily is the embodiment of our worst, most cringey and deranged fan impulses, and we love him for it.

[formulaaddict14]

400 LUX

Lando Norris Reader ( Y/N )

Summary : Lando Norris takes reader out for a surprise road trip!

Warnings : just fluff!

Author note : this is pt 2 of my “ Pure heroine “ inspired posts! This is a half SMAU but mainly a fic. Also this is such a bad SMAU and fic that I literally don’t even want to look at it but I spent too much time on it ☹️

//////////////////////// /////////////////////

Y/N was still in bed, too busy scrolling on tiktok and learning what snail she was based off of her birth month. She was a little taken a back by Lando’s demands but finally obliged, packing one fancy dress, comfortable sweatpants and a plain white shirt. She didn’t know if it would be a red carpet or a camping trip to a haunted forest, but maybe there was some thrill to that?

She picked up her backpack that was at least 4 years old from high school, had seen every school fight and failed exam and headed out of her apartment. She checked her phone, still no new messages on what this mystery trip was or where it would take her. Y/N looked up from her phone and saw him in a car, a rental that looked far from perfect and was definitely beat up.

“ What’s the car for? “ she chuckled as she opened the car door and plopped into the passenger seat. The car was spacious to an extent, with half functional air conditioning and a broken rear view mirror that pointed down. “ thought I’d mix it up a but “ Lando said proudly, running his hand across the steering wheel proudly and then started the engine.

“ So where are you taking me? “ Y/N asked, slightly confused since just 30 minutes ago she was blissfully unaware and half asleep. “ Three words, road trip “ he exclaimed proudly while reversing out of the parking lot. “ That’s 2 words, but I’ll give you an A for effort “ she chuckled, rolling her eyes slightly at his attempt.

They drove about half an hour before stopping at a gas station, it was quiet with those obnoxiously bright lamps and shelves everywhere. “ Pick what you want “ Lando said, going to make himself a coffee while she stayed at the snack isle. She chose carefully, weighing her picks and ending up choosing a large tube of sour cream and onion pringles with some cashews. For drinks all she took was a small overpriced orange juice bottle that he ended up making fun of her for later.

“ Since when do you drink orange juice? “ he laughed as he came back with his caramel coffee and bag of cheetos, “ I’ve always liked oranges “ Y/N muttered as she put her stuff on the cash register and stepped back to examine the selection of gum packets they had put out.

They continued their trip, doing karaoke, talking or playing car games they’d played back in their childhood. Approximately 11 hours later and the whole of France crossed they ended up in Belgium. “ What are we going to do in Belgium “ she laughed clearly confused as he had rented a whole car just to drive to Belgium and back in just over 24 hours. He looked over at her, it was starting to get dark again as the sun was setting. “ I just needed an excuse to spend more time with you “ he said, slightly embarrassed but it faded away when he saw her smile.

She laughed, not in a way to make fun of him but the whole situation. “ You know I could’ve just come over “ she said as he replied sheepishly “ Yeah, that would have also been an option “

Y/N.official just posted :

Liked by Lando.Norris, urbff and 506,729 more

Roadtrip 😋🥤🍕

user43 : tomorrow is media day what??

user65 : I read that Lando was spotted in a Belgian gas station 😭

| user21 : how will he get back to Monaco in like 14 hours? 😔

user98 : I’m getting fomo let me join yall 🙄

urbff : SO THATS WHY YOU COULDN’T COME TO BRUNCH??

| Y/N.official : oops!

urbff : Traitor.

user71 : side quest queen 😎

F1.gossip just posted :

Liked by user42 and 238,014 more

Lando Norris spotted in Belgium on a road trip just hours before media day 👀🏆📸

user62 : let a guy live 😭

user98 : OSCAR 2025 WDC 🔥

user20 : what if he misses media day?

| user51 : just a fine you guys are overreacting 😒

user01 : 🏆

///////////////////////// /////////////////////

[maythevoidnotscreamback]

My outrage given voice: Tsuna owes Vongola jack-all!

Seriously. All Vongola’s done is turn his world upside down.

His father hadn’t been seen or heard from, at least to his knowledge, for so long (two whole years, according to Tsuna) he thought him dead before finding out that he’s alive and well as the head of CEDEF. And he’d never have found out otherwise if Vongola hadn’t come along, or more specifically if the three heirs hadn’t been killed off. Like, the guy told Nana to tell Tsuna that he’d gone off to “become a star” which could have a lot of connotations to Tsuna but he chose to believe the guy had died. Like, granted, it could be considered callous that Tsuna never thought that Nana would’ve been hella more depressed if Iemitsu was dead if she really loved him as much as they portrayed but you gotta remember that the kid is embarrassed, not mortified or even hurt, when Nana calls him Dame (pronounced dah-may, not day-m goddammit!) in his presence to his crush. Not to mention, being a teen, he might not have the emotional maturity to parse such things; it could've been different if he ever saw him as a full-grown man. As it is, he was probably of the opinion that Nana, if she was told, had gone into denial that Iemitsu was dead to the point of delusion, using whatever life insurance he had to keep them in comfort, because she’s mentally unsound in some manner or another and he didn’t want to make his house feel uncomfortable by trying to get her to ‘snap out of it’. Or, alternatively, he’d rather the guy was dead than having run off on he and his mother for whatever reason he might or might not have had. It probably hurt less - if he wasn't indifferent by that point - to think that way.

“Well, what about his friends?” I hear you ask. “Sit down, shut up and let me tell you.” I’d reply.

Yamamoto only started to take notice of him ‘cause of Reborn’s DW Bullet shenanigans and even then the incident with the roof, something I’ve seen others acknowledge as inevitable, - check out FFN's Reidluver's "It's a Mafia Life" for one such example - something that would’ve happened even without Tsuna’s ‘advice’, might’ve simply ended with the kid dead. Yes, Hibari might’ve been able to prevent it if only to keep the school’s reputation intact but the fact that Reborn had to shoot Tsuna twice to keep them both alive even with Tsuna buying time by talking to him, that they fell cause of the shitty fence, instead of an air mattress for just such occasions means that Hibari might not have been able to prevent Yamamoto’s death. Maybe by catching him as some people (Reidluver) would write but that would all depend on how the guy fell. He was planning to jump/let himself fall, meaning he’d be going down head first, if not in some form of belly flop, so Hibari catching him could’ve led to further injury for Yamamoto, serious injury for Hibari, a comatose state or even paralyzation if not death for one or both of them. As much as Hibari is acknowledged as the Demon Prefect, he's still a human being who hasn't ignited his Flames by that point. But Fanfic will be fanfic so...

Hibari only cared for him as a student of his school and nothing more. He was the Chairman of the Disciplinary Committee and yet the only times people were punished it was over stupid stuff. Like crowding, uniform violations and noise. Or just annoying the guy. Not bullying, abuse of authority and/or lack of academic support. In a school he was supposed to be "making better" by taking over; however that's meant to be taken.

Gokudera only became aware of him because he was the Decimo-to-be and even then that was because Reborn called him in to ‘test’ him. If not for that, Gokudera wouldn’t have even been in Namimori in the first place, most likely would’ve never gone to Japan at all unless for a job or to honor his mother’s side of his heritage. Lambo’s almost the same in that he was literally following Reborn so if he wasn’t there Lambo wouldn’t have been either. I-pin was there for a job and was only allowed to stay because Fon trusted Reborn to look after her as part of Tsuna’s house guests. Fuuta also only went to Tsuna because the Decimo-to-be, after the other candidates were killed off, is “number one unable to refuse requests”. Same thing with Haru, she only became interested in Tsuna because she saw him with Reborn and even then she was of the opinion he was being a strange type of abusive toward the 'baby' that hung around him.

Sasagawa didn’t even know he existed until, just like Yamamoto, he saw Tsuna do something amazing while under Bullet Influence. His sister, Kyoko, was aware of him but only as Dame-Tsuna and even then she didn’t really do anything but look cute. I don’t think we have any proper evidence that Kyoko ever interacted with Tsuna before that day Reborn showed up. That Dame-Tsuna could have gained that crush on her because of the Idol/Celebrity Effect, not because she helped him or was nice to him once or twice. She was cute, she seemed kind from a distance, she was popular, she was "too good for him" but that doesn’t mean he couldn’t admire her from afar. That’s what he’d been doing for a while and while he got demotivated when he found out she might be ‘taken’ by Mochida, that’s not that uncommon for other people to do. He wouldn’t be the first and he’ll never be the last to experience such a thing in the world. It’s only because of Reborn that she even wanted to be his friend, which could’ve been because of the whole ‘he tore Mochida’s hair out during their “duel”’ so she might’ve thought to use him to keep others away when Hana couldn’t. Like, just because someone seems nice or kind doesn’t mean that’s their true face or nature, as pessimistically paranoid as that outs me to be.

Chrome would’ve simply been dead. No if’s, ands, or buts about it. She only survived because of Mukuro. Who only went ‘looking’ for her because he was in a Vendicare Isolation/Sensory Deprivation Tank. And even then, that’s only because he was caught escaping a second time, to get Ken and Chikusa out while acting as bait, after Tsuna had defeated him after the first time he broke out. If Mukuro hadn’t gone after Tsuna, didn’t need to because of a combination of Fuuta asking for his protection and the Ninth’s sons being dead, he might’ve stayed free with his group or found himself killed before long. I say ‘might’ve’ because once he’d fought against people who actually knew what to do with their own DW he might’ve been discouraged with his plans but then... he might not’ve too. Who knows? I certainly don't.

Xanxus might've stayed in the ice until one of his 'brothers' had succeeded Nono. That is, if he weren't killed off, of course, due to would-be/might-be prevention of a later threat depending on what their actual relationships were like. 'Cause we don't know how the Vongola Bros felt for one another. Were they good to each other; for a given definition when in regards to the mafia? Power-hungry? Uninterested in the Throne? Did they love one another or were biding their time or indifferent toward one another or just plain rivals that respected one another? As said, we don't know. It's speculation and HCs whenever they come up in various fics. And we don't know what might've happened to his Guardians in the Varia in such circumstance either. They might've tried fighting, or laying low until they got their Boss back or they might've died for one reason or another because the new Don didn't want to risk another coup - hostage situation only works for so long before something needs to give - under his reign. Who knows?! We don't.

Reborn's a freelancer, so if he'd never even known about Tsuna, let alone met him to tutor him, he'd never get out from under his shared curse. Just died from it, if not in a blaze of glory as a final 'fuck you' to the System if not The Man in the Iron Hat as the Arco knew him as. Said System might have even continued passed the current generation of Arcobaleno if Tsuna hadn't been made aware of his... connections in regards to his blood.

The Shimon probably would've never come out of their Isolation/Obscurity as a Family; because the reason they even got their Long Lost Rings back - their power source that's apparently stronger than a third of the Tri-ni-Sette, one of three corner stones to the continuation of All Life on Earth! (just... what?!) - is due to the shenanigans with the Ten Year Bazooka. They'd never have learned their own history/origins - or even that Daemon Spade was alive and the reason a good portion of their Family was dead - if not for that.

TLDR: I really wish people would stop making Tsuna a pussy in regards to his friends. Specifically those moments where 'you'd be nothing without Vongola' might come up when he tries to live his life the way he wants to live it. Because it's blatantly not true. What I've put above are just bits and pieces, I'm sure others can find more, of why it's not Tsuna who needs Vongola/the Mafia, but that it's Vongola/the Mafia which needs Tsuna.

[miyseilish]

hii!! could you write e-42!miles x reader where the reader is really artsy and draws all the time? I have this headcannon that 42!miles had to give up his passion for art bc of the prowler stuff and only has the time to doodle in his school books SO, the reader (when miles is finally free) takes him on a date where they paint eachother and helps him indulge himself in his past passions OUGHHH he makes me so sad i love him :((

free of mind

pairings : m.morales 42 x artsy!reader

genre: fluff, angst if u squint

a/n : finally writing 42 againn woo. I also need to update my masterlist and pinned so stay tuned ig

when he seen you draw he was flabbergasted

like you’re REALLY talented in his eyes

it made him really miss his passion for art before the prowler job. the last big art piece he did was his dads mural before he stopped art.

sometimes he would flip through his old art notebook reminiscing the time when art was all he did.

when he seen your art journal he admired your art style. it was flashy and stood out like how his used to

one day you surprised him with a date which took him by surprise

you two went to a park that you had two canvases set up with chairs

when you told him what was going on he tried shutting the idea down at first but after some convincing he finally let up.

when you guys started you could tell he used to be good at art. he started sketching you out on his canvas before painting, getting all of your features.

when he started painting he truly felt like himself again— he loved mixing the colors, shading, adding highlights to your eyes and nose.

you noticed how concentrated he was on his artwork and it made you feel warm inside (and snuck some photos)

when you guys were done you showed him your painting of him which made him nervous to show him yours.

in his mind he got dusty with art due to the break so he seen yours as better.

when he showed you your painting your jaw dropped.

it was very detailed and looked like he spent hours on it. he got all of your freckles and colored your irises like there was a galaxy inside of them

although he seemed embarrassed you reassured him that it wasn’t.

when you guys took your paintings home he thanked you truly, because it made him feel like his old self again.

after that day he tried to take time out of his day to draw, he found it therapeutic so he wouldn’t be so focused on his job.

he felt truly happy

—miyseilish 2025, my work will not be copied or paraphrased anywhere without my consent

[hollabastiongirl]

I see ppl complain about how obvious it is that Cloud is uncomfortable with Aerith's flirting and he tells her no (which ok, where??), but my takeaway from that whole thing is just that he's embarrassed around girls he likes and any discomfort comes from how painfully awkward the guy is, not because he doesn't appreciate her affection. Like, c'mon. He could have put his foot down from the beginning and told her to knock it off, and she would have.

[horny-ex-catholic]

You know, I post a lot of horny content here but tbh the sexiest thing that's ever happened to me was the time I got embarrassed because I realized I'd already told my partner about this statue I love and they told me to tell them about it again because they like listening to me be excited

[oldbutchdanielcraig]

do u have any other movies (or other media) you'd recommend to ppl who loved queer?

OH ABSOLUTELY.

as for books:

Dancers from the Dance by Andrew Holleran: set in New York, centers around one character and largely his platonic friendship with an older queen. it's also about queer identity and the seeming near-impossibility of finding love especially while queer. really beautiful character work and really devastating.

I'd also recommend reading Queer if you haven't because it's super short and an easy/engaging read. I personally think the movie enhances the book in a lot of ways but there's really great stuff missing from the final cut of the movie that I adore and it's fun to make those comparisons.

You could also go full-out and read other Burroughs (I haven't yet so take me with a grain of salt) and if you do I'd start with Junky and Naked Lunch which I believe are the most Queer-adjacent works — both tackle similar topics and feature William Lee as the protagonist, though it's not like. a series y'know.

as for movies:

works of David Cronenberg: start with Naked Lunch, obv, because it's a great adaptation and Queer takes direct inspiration from a lot of it! next go for Dead Ringers for identity + codependency and The Fly for more identity exploration. (bonus points if after THAT Dead Ringers you watch the series where Rachel Weisz stars. I love my bi4bi toxic gay media couple)

works of David Lynch: also a direct inspiration for Luca's Queer! he's where a lot of the surrealism comes in which I think is awesome. above anything I'd recommend Lost Highway and Mulholland Drive which are both movies that Also tackle earth-shattering crises of identity and blending into the other etc. both really good.

The Talented Mr. Ripley: not quite the same, but toxic and gay and about how queerness shapes identity. really good. if you haven't seen it you should.

other works of Luca's: I just love this guy. for the most similar vibes I'd go for Bones and All and Suspiria which have elements of codependency and identity and all that good stuff. controversially I would also say to watch Call Me By Your Name if you haven't (and maybe even read the book 😬)? I could say thousands of words about the nuances of choosing to recommend that and it's like. they will tell you that Queer is not CMBYN 2 and they will be right in basically every way. except for the thinking man who knows that Luca read Queer at 18 and it profoundly shaped him and is precisely what makes CMBYN a good movie in the first place. TO ME.

[chaosismybestie]

DID WE HAVE EZIO X LEO SHIP IN AC FANDOM?????? OH MY FUCKING GOD????

OMG YES ALWAYS T-T have you seen these two together??? they can never stay in the same room without at least hugging or looking at eo with the most incredible amount of LONGING fdshkfjdshf

[athanatosora]

managed to log back into my acc for it and was reminded abt obitofic bc of comments. i fr cant ever post the rewrite bc 1) that thing ended up soo different bc i just straight up couldnt bring myself to reread my old writing so it just ended up being a whole new thing LMFAO 2) the characters. if i could id tell the me from a decade ago its ok to want to blow up certain characters w my mind its not “unfair” to them they are fictional characters. they are dolls to play with and beat up and chew and spit out like dog toy. 3) the tone. its uhmmm a bummer

[that-handsome-rogue]

//let me make a public apology for my trash French. I know some of yall probably know more than me and I know my French is shit cause I use Google translate… IM A FRAUD I KNOW IM SORRY.

[ersatz-introspective]

npd + rdr culture is seeing people call dutch a narcissist and going "YEAA KING he's just like me ong" and then promptly realise they're actually insulting him with the word 'narcissist' & i proceed to backpedal ...