#it feels kinda weird to write my own posts

[the-s1lly-corner]

OKAY SUPER SPECIFIC, figured id go for it :)

can you write a jax x reader where jax jokes about the reader having a crush on him, to which the reader gets all blushy and weird about it? ends with them kinda being together hehe? i'll eat up any fluff you throw my way for this asshole rabbit 🙏🙏🙏🙏 love your work!!

Jax joking about having a crush on you

Attempting to do requests for other fandoms real quick between being sucked deep into the dw rot WOO

Notes: reader is gn, reader is crushing on jax, short post, written on mobile, open ended you guys don't exactly get together but there's a chance you might later, jax is kinda immature

CWs: none

See crushes and romance for jax is an odd subject... he loooooves teasing people about it and being annoying but the second there's actual feelings- aimed towards him or coming from him- he kind of... backs off.. cooties mentality, aversion to vulnerability... ect ect. I will die on this hill!!

So when he jokes about you having a crush on him he says it all in good fun- well... it's jax, he was likely trying to get a reaction out of you. He was expecting you to shut it down or scoff or shoot a comment back but...

He doesn't expect you to go red and kind of. Fail to laugh it off.. stammering over your words.. before eventually trying to change the subject

Oh.

Oh....

He doesnt... really know how to feel about it- he doesn't really know how to feel about you either given the mentioned above. It's not exactly... YOU in specific, it's how he feels about romance as a whole

Suuuure you having a crush on him gives him some ammo to tease you, but even to him using that against you feels too... mean...

He kind of brushes it off for the most part, only really in passing bringing it up in the form of lighthearted jabs. He's not going to talk about it- theure your feelings...! They're your responsibility...! That's on you...!

Though... the more he thinks about it you dont... seem all that bad, you're still fun to hang out with when you're not.. acting weird... and you don't look half bad- and..

Whoops he's fostered feelings of his own, even if he's never ever going to admit it-- and he's going to refuse to act on those feelings! To act means to admit! Pass!

It... kind of falls on you to bring up the conversation... surely he wouldn't commit so deeply to the bit that he'd deny his own feelings and reject yours...?

[itstobias149]

Little Macs Sibling Lore dump

Hey guys! Today I bring you a post made up of a collectionon of random lore drops about Marie through the eyes of Little Mac! I had a lot of fun, I'm sorry its such a long post. I hope you all enjoy it though.

This post contains stuff about my oc, if you don't like oc stuff this post may not be for you and that's okay! This is also based on my own Headcanons and ideas! Everyone has their own interpretation of the boxers and their stories and personlives and that's okay!

“Alright, so Marie’s like, my older sister or whatever, but I swear, she’s basically an old lady trapped in a chubby cutman’s body. She’s out here knitting scarves for nobody, like just endless scarves that pile up in her closet. She’s got this thing for baking cookies at 6 AM—6 AM!—like who wakes up thinking, ‘You know what the world needs right now? Snickerdoodles.’

Oh, and don’t get me started on her tea collection. It’s massive. She’s got every flavor you can think of, like she’s preparing for a tea apocalypse or something. You open her cupboard and BAM! It’s like a botanical garden exploded in there. She’s always watching those weird crime shows too—like, if you ask her about “Murder She Wrote,” she could probably write a dissertation on it.

And you know what really gets me? The puzzles. Marie will sit there at the kitchen table doing jigsaw puzzles for HOURS. Like, she’s got all these guys fawning over her, and she’s over here acting like a grandma just waiting for bingo night. It’s weird, but it’s Marie, y’know? Her card game obsession is just the cherry on top. She’s always trying to rope people into playing Gin Rummy or Canasta. If she doesn’t have anyone to play with, she’ll sit there doing solitaire, shuffling the cards like she’s in a Vegas casino. And don’t even think about beating her—she’s ruthless, calling out rules you’ve never heard of, like, ‘Actually, you can’t play that card because it’s Thursday.’

Marie also has these old-school habits that just make her seem even more like an old grandma, and I mean that in the funniest way possible. First off, she’s always trying to feed everyone. Doesn’t matter if you’re hungry or not—she’s like, ‘You’re too skinny, you need to eat.’ She’ll whip out a full meal in five minutes like it’s a magic trick. Fighter? Coach? Cameraman? You mention you are hungry and she just appears with food, where does it come from? Her big beehive?

And the food—oh, the food. Marie’s kitchen always smells like she’s been cooking for a village. She’s making kugel, latkes, stuffed cabbage—you name it. She even learned how to make her own challah, which she insists on braiding perfectly, and don’t even get me started on her chicken soup. It’s practically a cure-all. Got a cold? Soup. Bad day? Soup. Sprained your ankle? Guess what? Soup.

And the guilt trips? Oh, man. Classic Marie. Like if I don’t call her when I’m out late, she hits me with, ‘Don’t worry about me, I’ll just sit here and wonder if my little brother is alive or in a ditch somewhere.’ I’m like, ‘Marie, I went to the store for five minutes!’ I get it I'm short and I'm only 17, but I've beaten guys that are three times my age and height.

Then there’s her obsession with coupons and deals. She’s not even strapped for cash, but if she gets something full price, she acts like she’s personally betrayed her ancestors. She’s all about ‘Why pay $5 when you could pay $4.75?’

Oh, and holidays? Forget about it. She goes ALL OUT. Passover, Hanukkah, you name it—she’s dragging me to synagogue, making matzo ball soup, and lecturing me on traditions like I’m in Sunday school again. But honestly, it’s kinda nice. Makes things feel like home.

Marie’s just got this old Jewish lady energy, even though she’s… y’know, Marie. It’s like she’s channeling generations of bubbes, but in her own chaotic, lovable way.”

“Oh man, don’t even get me started on Marie’s house. It’s like stepping into a time capsule. She’s got these old decorations everywhere—like, actual antiques. She’s got menorahs that look like they came straight out of the shtetl, ceramic pomegranates, and a hamsa on every other wall. There’s even this weird old clock that doesn’t work, but she won’t get rid of it because ‘it has character.’

And then there’s the singing. If she’s cleaning, cooking, or just puttering around the house, you know she’s gonna be singing something in Yiddish. It’s like she doesn’t even realize she’s doing it half the time. She’ll be scrubbing a pan and humming ‘Tumbalalaika’ or ‘Bei Mir Bistu Shein.’ Sometimes she gets into it and starts belting out like she’s on stage, and I’m just sitting there like, ‘You good, Marie?’

It’s honestly kinda comforting, though. Like, it’s chaotic, but it’s her. I mean, yeah, she’s got this whole grandma vibe, but it just makes the place feel warm and alive. Even if she’s singing so loud the neighbors can hear.”

“Okay, so Marie’s list of grandma activities is endless. Like, she collects random jars and containers. Doesn’t matter if it’s an old pickle jar or a tin from cookies—she’ll clean it out and say something like, ‘You never know when you’ll need a good jar.’ Now her cabinets are full of ‘em, and I swear, half of them are empty.

She’s obsessed with gardening, but not, like, normal plants—she’s growing herbs and weird flowers that I’m convinced nobody’s even heard of. She’ll come in with dirt on her face like, ‘Look, Little Mac, my rosemary’s thriving!’ Meanwhile, I can barely keep a cactus alive.

Oh, and she’s got this thing with handwritten notes. Like, she refuses to use her phone for reminders. Instead, she’ll write down recipes, to-do lists, or random thoughts on little scraps of paper—and they’re everywhere. You’ll find ‘em in her coat pockets, on the fridge, even in the bathroom.

Then there’s her perfume collection, which is wild. She’s got these vintage bottles that look like they came out of a 1920s department store. And the scents? They’re super flowery or musky, like classic grandma fragrances. She’s always dabbing it on her wrists like it’s a ritual, and if you say it’s strong, she’ll just shrug and say, ‘That’s how you know it’s good.’

And her dishes—oh boy. Marie’s got the fanciest plates and bowls, but they’re so old-school they’ve probably been passed down for generations. She’s got these blue and white porcelain plates she only uses for special occasions and some glassware that’s so delicate she practically makes you sign a waiver before touching it. Meanwhile, she’ll serve you cookies on a little tray that looks like it belongs in a museum.

Marie’s collections are a big part of who she is—they tell stories of her past, her culture, and her unique personality. Walking into her apartment is like stepping into a cozy, lived-in museum of sorts. It’s a collection of memories, keepsakes, and things that hold sentimental value. But at the same time, it feels like home, a space that’s warm and inviting despite all the stuff packed into every nook and cranny.

First, there’s her collection of old religious items. You can’t miss them. She’s got candles, menorahs, and even an antique silver kiddush cup that’s been passed down through generations. When she talks about these objects, you can see the reverence in her eyes—they’re not just decorations; they’re links to her family’s past, to the traditions her grandparents carried with them from Europe. She’s got prayer books in Yiddish and Hebrew, their pages yellowed with age, some of them with notes written in the margins. It’s clear that every item in her collection has a story, a memory attached to it.

Then there are her trinkets—lots of small figurines and dolls from different cultures. Some are from her travels, like the little wooden figurines from Slovakia or the hand-painted pottery she bought when she visited Romania. They’re scattered around her living room, on shelves or in glass cabinets, like little time capsules. Each one seems to have a story of where she’s been, who she was with, or something important that happened in her life. Some of the pieces are quirky—like the hand-carved wooden clown from a street market in Prague—but others are so intricate and beautiful, I can’t help but admire the craftsmanship.

Marie also collects vintage cookbooks. Old ones, some of them falling apart from how much she’s used them. She’s got this one cookbook that’s a hundred years old, and she’s used it so much that the pages are stained with grease and food marks. She said it belonged to her grandmother, who taught her how to cook all those old-world recipes. Every time I look at it, I can’t help but think about how much history is packed into those pages. You can tell these aren’t just recipes; they’re part of her family’s identity. Whenever she cooks, she’s connecting with her roots, with the women who came before her. It’s like she’s passing the knowledge down, one meal at a time.

There’s also a whole section of her home that’s dedicated to vintage postcards. She’s been collecting them for years—mostly ones from different places she’s been, but also some old ones she’s found at thrift stores or flea markets. They’re mostly from the early 1900s, showing cities, landmarks, and scenes from long ago. I remember her showing me one of New York from the 1920s, and she told me that her great-grandparents used to live in that exact neighborhood. It’s amazing how these little postcards capture a moment in time—like frozen memories of lives that were lived long before we came along.

And then, of course, there’s the collection of old dishes and teacups. She’s got this collection of mismatched, delicate porcelain teacups—most of them from different countries. There’s one that she’s really fond of, a cup with little roses painted on it that she got from a shop in Vienna. She says it reminds her of when she visited the city with her mother, back when things were simpler. Sometimes, on quiet afternoons, she’ll pull out one of her favorite cups, brew a pot of tea, and we’ll sit and chat, letting the time slip by. It’s like she’s recreating those small, intimate moments of her past, making new memories with each cup.

I’ve noticed how Marie’s collections aren’t just about having stuff; they’re a reflection of her life, her history, and her connection to both her Jewish roots and the cultures she’s grown up around. Sometimes, when she’s showing me her collections, it’s like she’s telling me pieces of her story without saying much at all. It’s in the way she talks about the items, the pride in her voice when she tells me the history behind them. It’s almost like these collections are her way of holding onto the past while moving forward—an acknowledgment of where she’s come from, and a way of keeping it all alive.

The coolest part, though, is how she’s started teaching me about her collections, how she’s opened up about the stories behind each item. I’ve learned so much from her—about her family, her heritage, and her way of seeing the world. She’s passed along some of the old cooking techniques from her family’s recipes, the way they used to stretch a meal and make everything from scratch. And every time we cook together, it feels like I’m adding my own little piece to her collection—like I’m a part of her story now, too.

Marie’s collections have this way of connecting the past and present, of honoring where she’s come from while she builds her life here and now. And even though I’m not really a collector, it’s hard not to get caught up in the magic of it all—the way she looks at each item, the pride she takes in preserving these pieces of her life. It’s not just about the things she owns; it’s about the memories they hold, the people they’ve connected her to, and the legacy she’s continuing. It’s a big part of why being with her feels like being part of something so much bigger than just the two of us.

Marie’s collection of old quilts and handmade clothes is probably one of the most personal and heartfelt parts of her home. Each piece is like a patchwork of memories, not just fabric, but moments in time, stories of hands that sewed them, and the love that went into making them. I’ve always been amazed by the way she talks about her quilts—how each stitch feels like it holds a piece of her family’s history.

The quilts are incredible. Some of them are centuries old, handed down from her great-grandmother and others from her mother. They’re faded now, the colors soft and worn, but they’ve got this warmth to them—almost like they still carry the imprint of the hands that created them. I remember the first time I saw them, spread out across her bed like a tapestry of the past. The designs are intricate, sometimes even abstract, and Marie can tell you exactly where each one came from. Some are made from fabric scraps, leftovers from clothes that her family wore, while others are more meticulously designed patterns that took hours to stitch together.

I think what really strikes me about the quilts is the level of care in each one. Marie says her grandmother made them during the tough years when they didn’t have much. They used whatever fabric they could get their hands on—old dresses, scraps from coats, bits of whatever they could salvage—and then she’d sew them all together into something beautiful and functional. It’s not just about making something to keep warm; it’s about creating something from nothing, something that could be passed down, that would be there to tell the family’s story.

Marie’s not only a collector of these quilts—she’s a maker, too. She’s shown me how she still hand-stitches some of the smaller repairs or adds new designs to the older quilts, kind of like preserving them, but also giving them a little life of their own. She told me that it’s part of how she connects with her family, with the women who came before her. Each stitch she adds feels like she’s participating in the same tradition, carrying it on in her own way. I never really understood how something like that could feel so personal, but when you see the care and attention she gives to each piece, it’s hard not to feel the love in it.

And then there are the handmade clothes. Marie’s always been into crafting—knitting, sewing, crocheting. She has this incredible collection of vintage sewing patterns that she’s gotten from all over the world, some dating back to the 1930s. I’ve seen her pull out these old patterns with these beautiful, detailed drawings of women’s dresses, coats, and even accessories, and she’ll talk about how she wants to try them out one day. She’s made everything from wool cardigans to hand-sewn dresses, each one unique, each one a work of art. The fabrics she uses are often vintage, too—like old silk from her travels or linen she picked up at a market in Spain—and she’s so particular about every little detail. I’ve watched her sew late into the night, her hands moving over the fabric with this incredible focus, like she’s channeling the spirit of all the seamstresses in her family.

One of the most special things she’s made, though, is a sweater she knitted for me. She gave it to me last winter, and when I first saw it, I couldn’t believe how much care she’d put into every stitch. The yarn was this deep blue, soft and thick, perfect for the cold weather. I don’t know if she meant for it to be anything more than a simple sweater, but when I put it on, I felt like I was wearing a piece of her heart. I wear it all the time now, especially when it gets cold, and it always makes me feel close to her, like I’m wrapped in her warmth.

What I love most about Marie’s quilts and handmade clothes, though, is how they represent her dedication to the people she loves. It’s not just about creating something beautiful—it’s about making something that lasts, that can be passed down through the generations, just like the quilts and clothes from her ancestors. It’s like she’s making her own legacy, stitch by stitch, and with each quilt she adds to her collection, each sweater she knits, she’s making a piece of history for the future. Even though she’s modern, her love for these handmade creations feels timeless, as though she’s carrying a tradition forward that might otherwise be lost. And every time I see her working on one of her projects, I’m reminded of how much of her heart goes into everything she does.

Then there’s her knitting addiction. She’s making blankets, socks, and hats for everyone. And she doesn’t just stop at knitting—she crochets too. Sometimes she’ll call me over and be like, ‘Try this on,’ and it’s some oversized sweater that I’m not even sure fits me.

Oh, and Marie LOVES writing letters. Like, actual letters with envelopes and stamps. She’ll sit at the table for hours with her fancy pens, writing to people who probably won’t even write back. She says it’s ‘more personal.’

I’m telling you, she’s basically 80 years old in a younger body. It’s kinda hilarious, but also weirdly comforting.”

“Okay, so I get it—Marie’s an immigrant from Germany, and her late family was super traditional. She’s told me the stories a million times: how they kept kosher, how her mom would light candles every Friday night, and how her dad used to lecture her about the importance of keeping traditions alive. Like, I know where all her quirks come from.

But sometimes I look at her and think, ‘Marie, we’re not in the old country anymore.’ Like, I’m pretty sure nobody else in the WVBA is sitting down to hand-roll kreplach or yelling at the TV in Yiddish when the news is on. And yet, there she is, making gefilte fish from scratch and humming old folk songs while she does it.

I get that her upbringing made her who she is, and I respect it—I really do. But Marie takes it to a whole new level. She’s out here sewing patches onto my clothes, like it’s 1935 and I can’t just buy a new jacket. Or she’ll tell me things like, ‘In my family, we always did this,’ while setting the table with enough food to feed the entire league.

Okay, so yeah, Marie’s got all these old-school habits, but honestly? She’s been teaching me a ton of stuff that’s actually useful. Like, she’s a master at stretching a dollar. I used to think meal prepping was just for fitness buffs, but nope—Marie’s out here making meals that last a week, and they taste better every day. I’ve learned how to make a mean pot of chicken soup, and now I’m the guy everyone calls when they’re sick.

She’s also big on fixing things instead of throwing them out. My gloves were falling apart, and I was ready to toss them, but she showed me how to sew them up. I know, sewing doesn’t sound tough, but you’d be surprised how handy it is when you’re training and gear gets worn out.

And her cooking? It’s like a crash course in survival. She’s teaching me all these recipes that are cheap, filling, and taste amazing—latkes, kugel, even braided challah. She says it’s about ‘taking care of your people,’ and now I feel like I could feed an army if I had to.

She’s even teaching me some Yiddish phrases, which is great for trash-talking in the ring without anyone knowing. Marie says, ‘If you’re gonna call someone a nudnik, at least do it with flair.’

So yeah, she’s old-fashioned, but it’s like having my own personal life coach. I don’t just get a sister—I get a survival guide, a tailor, and a chef all rolled into one.

It’s like she’s stuck between being this old-world Jewish bubbe and a modern-day cutman, and somehow, it works for her. It’s just… sometimes I have to remind her that we’re in New York, not a little shtetl in Germany. It’s funny how people can look at Marie and think she’s just this old, traditional lady, but they don’t always know the full story. I’ve heard her talk about her parents, and honestly, it’s a bit heartbreaking. Her mom and dad, they were born and raised in Germany, and they had that old-school, strict mindset that a lot of people from their generation carried with them. You know, they had lived through a lot—survived the war, rebuilt their lives—and they were determined to keep their family traditions alive, even if that meant keeping a tight grip on Marie. They weren’t bad people, but they were overbearing in a way that you’d only understand if you were raised in a time and place like that.

She was expected to follow the rules, do things the “right” way, and stick to their ideals. It was all about preserving the family name, the old customs, the way things had been passed down from generation to generation. And I get it—her parents went through things most people can’t even imagine. They lived through the worst of history, and their experiences shaped how they viewed the world. They probably just wanted to protect Marie from the chaos that had torn apart their lives and their home. But that didn’t mean she had to stay trapped in that mindset forever.

Marie’s always been this independent spirit, though. She’s got her own opinions, her own ideas about how things should be, and as much as she respected her parents, she didn’t agree with a lot of the things they pushed on her. She loved them, no doubt, but she needed more than just their way of living. It wasn’t until after they passed that Marie felt like she could truly breathe, like she was finally free to make her own choices and live her life on her terms. I think that’s when she really came into her own. That’s when she left Germany and came here, looking for something different, something that would allow her to be herself.

It wasn’t easy, though. Coming to a new country, starting fresh, and breaking away from the expectations her parents had set for her—it was all a huge challenge. But that’s Marie. She’s never been one to back down, and even though she didn’t agree with the way her parents had raised her, she understood where they were coming from. They’d lived through the worst times in history, and for them, that kind of control was just a way of coping with everything they’d lost. But for Marie, it was suffocating. She wasn’t going to live a life defined by fear or by the shadows of the past. She came to us, to America, for freedom—freedom to be who she truly was, to make her own path, and to define her own future.

It wasn’t like she rejected everything they taught her—she still holds onto parts of her heritage, her culture, and the values that shaped her. But she learned that she didn’t have to live under the weight of their rules, and that’s something she’s always fought for. She believes in embracing the past, but she also believes in moving forward, in creating a life that’s her own. That’s why she’s so willing to learn from others, to hear different perspectives, and to understand people from all walks of life. It’s her way of reclaiming her own identity, and I think that’s what makes her so special.

She doesn’t talk about it much, but I know that leaving Germany wasn’t just about escaping her parents—it was about finding herself, finding a place where she didn’t have to live in anyone’s shadow. And when she came here, she didn’t just step into the world that awaited her; she built her own life, on her own terms. It’s something I admire a lot about her—she took the lessons from her past, the struggles she went through, and used them to shape the woman she is today. She’s proud of her roots, but she knows she can’t be confined by them. That’s Marie—always pushing forward, always staying true to herself, no matter where she came from or who tried to hold her back.

But outside of her old ways her opinions are pretty modern. She is for the people, for the minorities. You know, sometimes Marie comes off as old-fashioned, especially with the way she carries herself. She’s got her routines—like making sure everyone’s got enough to eat, or making time for her old-school traditions, like keeping the house cozy with homemade quilts or sitting down with a good book. People might look at her and think she’s just this sweet, old lady who’s stuck in the past, but they couldn’t be more wrong. She’s actually one of the most forward-thinking people I know, especially when it comes to social justice.

It might not always look that way, but Marie’s got this fire inside her. She doesn’t just sit back and accept things because “that’s how it’s always been.” If she sees something she thinks is wrong, you can bet she’s going to stand up for it—no matter the situation. She might be the one sitting in a quiet corner at a dinner party, but when it comes to speaking out, she doesn’t hesitate for a second.

I’ve seen her go toe-to-toe with people who try to put others down, especially when it comes to injustice. Whether it’s racism, discrimination, or people being treated unfairly, she’s never afraid to call it out. It’s not always dramatic—she doesn’t make a big scene—but you can feel the power of her words when she does speak up. I remember this one time when a few of the boxers were making some off-hand remarks about someone’s culture, and Marie didn’t let it slide. She didn’t lecture them, but she calmly told them how those kinds of comments were hurtful, how important it was to respect every person’s background, no matter where they come from. The room got quiet, and for a moment, I think everyone realized how much they’d been missing—how easy it was to fall into ignorance if you didn’t stop and think.

Marie’s not the kind of person who makes a big deal about it, but when she stands up for what’s right, people listen. She’s never one to shy away from a conversation, especially if it means standing up for the underdog. I’ve seen her defend workers in the stores she shops at, the people who’ve been overlooked by others. It doesn’t matter if it’s someone cleaning the floors or serving food—Marie sees people as people, and if she feels like they’re not being treated right, she’ll speak up. She’s taught me that being kind and respectful isn’t just about showing love to people who are easy to love—it’s about standing up for the ones who might be forgotten or mistreated, too.

I think part of it comes from the way she was raised—growing up in a tough time and learning that you’ve got to fight for what’s right. It’s a different world now, but Marie’s sense of justice hasn’t changed. She was taught that you stand up for the people who don’t have a voice, that you make sure everyone gets a fair chance. She doesn’t just fight for others when it’s convenient or when it’s easy. She does it because she believes it’s the right thing to do.

And even though she’s old-fashioned in some ways, it’s clear that she’s got a modern heart. She understands the struggles people are going through today, and she’s got a strong opinion about how things should change. Whether it’s talking to one of the boxers about their behavior or stepping up for a cause she believes in, Marie is never one to back down. She may be gentle, but she’s got a backbone made of steel.

It’s honestly kind of amazing to see someone so rooted in tradition still push for progress. She reminds me all the time that standing up for others doesn’t have to be loud or flashy—it’s about doing the right thing even when nobody’s looking. That’s the real power she has: making sure people are treated with dignity and respect, no matter who they are or where they come from. And to me, that makes her more modern than a lot of people I know, despite the fact that she’s into old quilts and listening to language tapes. She’s got a wisdom that comes from experience, and I can’t think of a better role model.

“I mean, I’ve always been Catholic, y’know? It’s kind of in my blood. I’m Hispanic, so that whole church thing was a big part of growing up. Sunday mornings meant heading to church with my mom, and then there’d be the whole family afterwards for a big meal, and of course, we’d say grace before we ate. It’s just… tradition. My mom would make me sit still through the whole mass, even when I wanted to run around as a kid, and she’d always say the rosary with me at night before bed, counting the beads like it was a ritual. I’d pray to the Virgin Mary and Jesus, asking for guidance. It was something I didn’t always get, but it was comforting, like it grounded me in a way. Even if I didn’t understand all the words or the history behind everything, there was this peace in it. Church was a space for me to reset, y’know?

Then, there’s Marie. She’s Jewish—born and raised, and her family’s super traditional. I know she grew up with a lot of the same values, just with a different foundation. Every time I stay with her, I learn a little more about her culture and her faith, and she’s always open to hearing about mine too. I don’t think I ever realized how much I didn’t know about her traditions until she started explaining it. For example, she told me about Shabbat, how every Friday night, she lights candles, says a prayer, and makes everything peaceful for the weekend. It’s such a simple but deep thing, right? She said it’s about setting the tone for the rest of the week—something like that. Honestly, I was kind of surprised by how similar it felt to what we do, except ours is on Sundays. She also explained how lighting the candles is a way to honor the Sabbath, and I thought that was powerful. She said the prayer in Hebrew, and I couldn’t really catch all of it, but the way she said it… there was this calmness to it. I wanted to understand it more.

One night, I asked her about some of the prayers she says before meals, and she told me about the bracha, the blessing over bread. That was something I had never heard of. She said, ‘Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the universe, who brings forth bread from the earth,’ and she explained how it’s this deep connection to what the earth gives us. I liked that. It felt really… connected, you know? Like, appreciating where food comes from, where life comes from. I actually started saying a little prayer in my head after hearing hers, kind of like how we do grace before meals. It wasn’t exactly the same, but the feeling behind it—being thankful, taking a moment to appreciate what we have—it made sense to me. It’s not that different when you really think about it.

She’s even asked me to teach her some of the Catholic traditions, like the rosary. I showed her how we pray with the beads and how the Hail Mary and Our Father are part of our routine. At first, she didn’t really get it—like, ‘Why do you have to repeat so many prayers?’ But as I explained it to her, she seemed to find it interesting. She said something like, ‘It’s kind of like meditating, right? Repeating the words to focus your mind?’ And I guess, in a way, she’s right. It’s not just about the words, but about the mindset. About putting your trust in something bigger than yourself, taking a minute to just breathe and let go.

It’s funny because sometimes we’ll sit together, each of us in our own little world, practicing our faiths in the way we know how, but we never judge each other. Instead, it’s like we’re both learning from one another. I’ll catch her lighting candles, and sometimes, without even thinking, I’ll say a prayer to myself. Or we’ll sit down for a meal, and she’ll say her bracha while I quietly say grace. There’s no conflict, no “this is better than that.” It’s just… respect. We’re different, but there’s a shared understanding that both of our faiths are important parts of who we are.

I remember one day, I was feeling kind of off after training, and Marie noticed. She looked at me and said, ‘Maybe you should say a prayer for strength.’ She didn’t know what I usually do, but I felt like, for once, I didn’t have to explain. I just said, ‘Yeah, I think I will.’ And we both took a moment, in our own ways, to connect with something bigger than us. I said my rosary prayer, and she said one of her own, and it was like, for just a moment, we were both in the same place spiritually.

Honestly, the more we talk about it, the more I realize that faith isn’t just about the specifics of the tradition. It’s about believing in something, having that foundation to stand on when life gets tough. And Marie… she’s shown me that while our religions might look different on the surface, the core of it is the same: love, family, tradition, and a deep appreciation for the life we’ve been given. And, I guess, in that way, we teach each other, without even trying.”

“Man, when I think about how Marie and I have blended our cultures together, it feels like it’s more than just about food or traditions—it’s about a deeper connection. We’re from different worlds, right? Me, with my Hispanic background, raised in a Catholic household, and her, with her Jewish upbringing, coming from a family that holds onto traditions like they’re a lifeline. At first, I didn’t think we’d have that much in common when it came to holidays or meals or anything like that, but as we started sharing more of ourselves with each other, I realized it’s all about finding that space where both of our worlds can exist side by side.

I remember the first time I went with Marie to her family’s Shabbat dinner. It was so different from anything I’d ever experienced. The candles, the prayers, the way everyone gathered around the table to share the bread and wine—it felt intimate, spiritual. I had never been part of anything like that before. And I’ll admit, I didn’t fully understand all the prayers or the Hebrew, but I could feel something deep, like this connection to the past, to her ancestors. It was like they were carrying on something that meant so much, something that had been passed down for generations. There was such a reverence in the room, a respect for tradition. I felt like an outsider at first, but Marie, she didn’t make me feel that way. She just told me to do what felt right, and that was enough.

And then, she started asking me about my own traditions. I remember the first time I talked about Día de los Muertos with her. She didn’t know much about it—how we honor our loved ones, set up altars with candles, marigolds, and pictures, and how the food, like pan de muerto, is a symbol of life and death coexisting. I could tell it really resonated with her. She asked a million questions, like she was trying to understand the whole concept—not just the rituals, but what it meant to me, how it shaped my perspective on life and death. And I think that’s when I realized: it wasn’t about just explaining a holiday; it was about explaining a part of myself. Sharing that with her felt like we were connecting on a deeper level than I ever imagined.

When we decided to merge our two cultures for Christmas last year, that’s when it really hit me how much we were growing together. I cooked up some tamales, and she made her famous latkes. I swear, she was more excited about my tamales than I was—she was curious about every little detail, asking how I wrapped the masa, what kind of fillings I liked. And when it came time for dinner, we sat down together, and it wasn’t just about eating—it was like a celebration of both our families, both our histories. I didn’t realize it at the time, but that meal was a symbol of us coming together in this space we created—our own little mix of everything.

But it’s not just the meals or the holidays. It’s how we’ve both started weaving bits of each other’s cultures into our everyday lives. Like when Marie would teach me the Yiddish words her grandmother taught her, and I’d throw in some Spanish phrases she didn’t know. Or when we started making room in our lives for both the rosary and the Shabbat candles—one for the end of the week, the other for the beginning. It’s small stuff, but it feels monumental, like we’re building this bridge between us, brick by brick, until the difference between us doesn’t feel so different at all.

And the best part is, we don’t feel like we have to choose one over the other. It’s not about me abandoning my roots or her abandoning hers. It’s about realizing that the beauty of our relationship isn’t in our sameness, but in how we’ve learned to respect and embrace each other’s differences. It’s like each holiday, each meal, each little ritual, is a way to say, ‘I see you. I understand where you come from. And I want to be a part of that.’

We’ve built our own traditions now—ones that mix the old and the new. Like, this past year, we decided to make a whole bunch of different dishes for Thanksgiving. We had the turkey and the stuffing, of course, but we also had marinated brisket, challah bread, and tamales. It was a weird combo at first, but when we sat down to eat, I realized that this—this was the new tradition. It wasn’t just one holiday, one culture, or one history; it was a reflection of both of us, coming together and carving out something that was uniquely ours.

And the deeper I get into all this, the more I realize it’s not about any one meal or prayer—it’s about what those things represent. It’s about learning the sacredness in each other’s customs and realizing that, even though we’re from different backgrounds, we’re both carrying pieces of something bigger. That’s what’s made this whole journey with Marie so special: it’s not just about learning from each other, it’s about creating something new together, something that honors both of our pasts while looking forward to the future we’re building.”

Marie’s always looking for ways to connect with people, even when it’s hard. She’ll invite the other boxers over for dinner or lunch, and it’s not just about feeding them—it’s about sharing something, learning from each other, and seeing if they can break through the barriers that sometimes exist between them. I’ve seen it firsthand. No matter how different the boxers are, or how much tension might be between them, she’ll set a table for everyone. Whether they’re from different parts of the world, speak different languages, or come from different cultures, she’s always trying to create this space where people can connect.

Marie doesn’t expect miracles. She knows she can’t always get along with everyone, and she knows that sometimes, people aren’t going to suddenly become best friends just because there’s food on the table. But she tries anyway. She makes an effort to make sure everyone feels heard, even if it’s not easy. I’ve seen her with Bald Bull and Soda Popinski—those two can barely stand each other, but somehow, at one of Marie’s dinners, the tension fades a little. It’s not like they forget their differences, but it’s like they understand each other a little better. They’ll start talking about their hometowns or their favorite foods, and even if it’s just for that moment, the rivalry takes a backseat.

She’s got this deep need to get to know people, not just as boxers but as individuals. She’s always looking for common ground, always trying to understand where someone’s coming from. It’s not always about speaking the same language; it’s about making the effort, showing respect, and being curious. That’s why you’ll find her listening to language tapes in the car on the way to the gym or before bed. I don’t think she ever stops trying to learn. She’s always listening to lessons in German, Yiddish, Ladino, or Spanish, working on something new to help her communicate better. It’s one of the things I admire most about her—she’s not content just knowing what she knows. She wants to understand more, and she’s willing to put in the work to bridge those gaps.

And even though not everyone gets along, she still believes in the value of that connection. She knows there are going to be days when the boxers clash or when there’s a rough atmosphere in the gym, but that doesn’t stop her from trying to build something different. If she can’t make them all get along, at least she can try to give them the tools to understand each other better. She’s not a miracle worker, but she’s definitely a bridge builder. It’s something small, but it has a big impact. Even if they don’t always see eye to eye, I think they leave her dinners with a little more respect for each other and the cultures they come from.

Sometimes it’s the smallest gestures that mean the most. She doesn’t ask for much in return—she doesn’t expect anyone to suddenly speak fluent Yiddish or learn all about her background in a day. But it’s the effort she puts in, the conversations she sparks, that slowly starts to change things. I think it’s part of who she is—this belief that no matter where someone’s from or how different they seem, there’s always something you can learn from each other. It’s not easy work, and sometimes it feels like it’s not making much of a difference, but she’s always at it, trying to make the world a little smaller, one dinner at a time.

Oh, man, Marie’s definitely had her moments with the language barrier. It’s actually kind of funny how hard she tries, and how sometimes, it just doesn’t go the way she plans.

I remember this one dinner with a few of the boxers—Bald Bull, Soda, and a couple of others. Marie was really excited because she’d been studying a bit of Turkish for a while, trying to connect with Bald Bull more. She had this whole plan to surprise him by speaking a little Turkish when he arrived, and she’d been listening to language tapes for days. So, she’s all pumped, right? The food’s ready, and she says to Bald Bull, “Hoş geldiniz!” (which means “Welcome”), and she’s smiling real big, waiting for his reaction.

Bald Bull just stands there, blinking for a second, and then he says, “What’d you say? Is that a new kind of soup?”

Marie’s face went from excited to totally confused, and we all just started laughing. It turns out she’d gotten one of the phrases wrong. She’d meant to say something welcoming, but it sounded like she was offering him a bowl of something. Bald Bull wasn’t upset, though. He actually laughed, too, and started teasing her about being “fluent in food, not language.”

It was funny, but it also showed just how hard she works to make that connection. She could’ve easily just stuck to speaking English, or German, or whatever she knew best, but no—she’s always pushing herself, trying to speak someone else’s language, even if it doesn’t come out perfectly. And honestly, even though it didn’t go as planned, it meant a lot that she tried. After that, Bald Bull was actually way more open to talking to her, even teaching her some Turkish words. He got a kick out of it, and by the end of the night, everyone was joking around in a mix of languages—English, Yiddish, Turkish, even a little Spanish from me.

Marie’s always learning and pushing herself, but she doesn’t take herself too seriously when things don’t go perfectly. The language barrier’s still there, but she doesn’t let it stop her. That’s just Marie. She’ll stumble, but she’ll keep going, even if it means saying something that makes everyone laugh.

Oh, Marie’s always so thoughtful about these things, so before she gives anyone a hug or that European cheek kiss, she always checks with the management first. She doesn’t want to make anyone uncomfortable—she’s just naturally affectionate, you know? She’ll ask them, “Is it okay if I greet him this way? I just want to make sure it’s not too much.” She’s got this polite, considerate side that’s honestly kind of funny considering how enthusiastically she greets people.

But sometimes, it doesn’t always go as smoothly as she thinks. I remember one time, Marie had just been told by management that it was fine to greet this new boxer from Eastern Europe with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. They’d said it was cool, so Marie went for it—no hesitation. She walks up to the guy, big smile on her face, arms open wide, and as she goes in for the hug, you could see the panic in his eyes. He looks like a deer caught in headlights.

He tries to awkwardly sidestep her, but Marie’s already there, giving him this big warm hug, and then she quickly plants a kiss on his cheek, like it’s the most normal thing in the world. But here’s the thing—this guy doesn’t even know how to react. He turns bright red, completely flustered, and backs up a little like he’s trying to get his bearings. At first, he’s just standing there, looking around like he’s trying to figure out if he’s supposed to do something in return. Is he supposed to kiss her cheek back? Hug her again? What was happening?!

Marie, not missing a beat, just smiles at him and says, “There, see? Wasn’t that easy?” as if it’s a casual, everyday greeting.

But this poor guy? His face goes even redder, and he starts mumbling in a mix of broken English and his native language. He’s flustered, trying to explain he’s not used to the whole European cheek-kiss thing. It wasn’t that he didn’t like her—it was just, well, a cultural shock. He looks over at the other boxers like he’s hoping for some guidance, but everyone else is trying to hold in their laughter, not wanting to make it worse.

Then, just to add to the comedy of the situation, one of the other guys (who’s seen Marie do this a hundred times) leans over and says, “It’s okay, buddy. Just wait until you get the full Marie treatment—you’ll get used to it!”

It wasn’t that the guy didn’t appreciate the greeting, but the suddenness of it caught him totally off guard. After that, he made a point of giving Marie a little wave every time they passed by, but still kept a bit of a distance—like he wasn’t quite ready for the full embrace yet.

Marie, though? She just laughed it off, completely unaware of how flustered he was, and continued to ask management about the next person she’d be meeting. She never wants to make anyone uncomfortable, but she’s definitely got that big, heart-on-her-sleeve attitude that sometimes takes people by surprise.

Man, when I think about Marie, there’s a lot I could say. She’s definitely not perfect—nobody is, right? She’s got her quirks, her old-school habits, and sometimes, she comes off a little… overbearing. But in a lot of ways, that’s what makes her who she is, and honestly, I wouldn’t change a thing.

She’s a hugger(sometimes), always going for those big, warm embraces, and the European kiss on the cheek greeting is so her. I’ve seen her catch people off guard with it—guys who aren’t used to that kind of thing. She’ll greet anyone like they’re family, whether it’s Bald Bull, Soda Popinski, or some new guy we’re training with. Sometimes, they’re flustered or confused at first, but they come to appreciate it. She doesn’t judge people, and she doesn’t care where they come from. She just wants to make sure they feel welcomed. And that includes asking management if it’s okay to greet someone that way, making sure no one’s uncomfortable.

Marie’s got a lot of old traditions—she loves her Yiddish, her German roots, and her ethnic foods. She cooks like you’re at your grandma’s house, and she’ll make sure you know every single ingredient in that dish, even if it’s hard to pronounce. And don’t even get me started on how she’s always trying to learn new languages—she’s listening to tapes in the car, studying words late at night, just so she can connect with the guys better. She knows it’s not always going to work, but she tries anyway. Even when there’s a language barrier, she’s trying to make that bridge. It’s like she believes that communication, no matter how imperfect, is key.

She’ll invite boxers over to dinner, even if they’re from different cultures, just to get to know them. Sometimes it’s awkward, sometimes it’s a little weird, but she makes it work. I’ve seen her do it—making those cultural exchanges happen, finding something in common, and trying to break down those walls. Even when they don’t get along, she’s there, working her hardest to build some kind of understanding. She doesn’t let differences keep her from trying to make people feel at home, even if it’s a battle sometimes.

Now, I’ve seen the way she handles things with her family, too. Her parents were strict, real traditional—especially with her being Jewish and growing up in Germany. They had a way of thinking that didn’t always mesh with Marie’s need for freedom. She didn’t agree with everything they said or did. When they passed, she left for the U.S. She came here for a new life, for more opportunities, and for the chance to live on her own terms. She didn’t let anyone hold her back, and that took a lot of courage.

She’s got a big heart, but she’s also a fighter in her own right. She stands up for social justice, even when it’s not popular. You don’t always see it, but she’s got that fire. She might not be loud about it, but she’s quietly pushing for what’s right, helping people out in the ways she can.

But yeah, she’s not perfect. Sometimes she’s overbearing, sometimes she’s got her own ways that don’t always make sense to everyone, and sometimes she makes things awkward with her affection or language mishaps. But that’s what makes her Marie. She’s real. She’s stubborn, kind-hearted, and she doesn’t stop trying to make the world a little better—whether it’s through food, hugs, or just taking the time to learn about people. And to me? That’s enough. She’s family, and I’m proud to have her as my sister.

P.S. If you ever find yourself at one of her dinners and you see her pull out a dish that looks like it came straight out of a history book, just smile, nod, and eat it. You’ll be fine—unless it’s one of her experimental Yiddish-Slovak fusion dishes… then just pray you survive the taste test.

P.P.S. If you’re ever wondering why Marie insists on giving you a hug and a kiss on the cheek every time you walk through the door, just remember: it’s not because she thinks you need it, it’s because she’s convinced that if she doesn’t, you’ll somehow forget that you’re loved and appreciated. She’s like a walking, talking emotional safety net.

P.P.P.S. And if you’re one of those boxers who’s not into hugs or physical touch? Don’t worry—Marie’s got a backup plan. She’ll give you the warmest, most awkward air hug you’ve ever seen, complete with a look like she’s praying it doesn’t freak you out. Or some cheesy joke. It’s her way of saying, “I respect your boundaries, but also… I really want to hug you, just so you know.”

[marragurl]

Saxaphone player Gallagher has not left my mind since the jazz night art dropped AND THEN Robin saying Halovian’s innately have good voices and Sunday used to hum lullabies to her as kids happened in the 2.2 special program, and I’m sure you guys can see where my unfortunate Galladay heart is going with this.

Whoever decided to make this art, I love you. I hope your pillow is cool every night, you’re never stuck in traffic, and your water is refreshing with every sip.

Also the art of Sunday with the White Gentlemen drink in the S.P.A.R.K.L.E jazz night event has also spiraled into me delusionally thinking that’s his go to drink. Which is hilarious since Robin has hinted before that he seems to have a massive sweet tooth in her letters.

(Sunday how do you even make holding a drink menacing, Sunday please get some therapy-)

So imagine this:

Pre 2.0 Galladay, where they’re both wary and suspicious of each other but didn’t do anything outright. Sunday slowly began to visit Gallagher’s bar whenever he had time to observe the Hound, initially on the down low just to get a sense of what he was working with and what to keep an eye on. He always gravitated to that one corner booth that every bar had with the most privacy, and just stalked there for a few hours before leaving. (Smol menacing birb in a tree vibes)

Gallagher obviously knew that Sunday was doing this (even though everyone else seemed to somehow completely miss him, Gallagher wouldn’t be surprised if Sunday was doing some weird Harmony mind tricks), and after the first few “stakeouts,” he bit the bullet and actually approached the table to engage with Sunday, on the off chance this was some weird “test of loyalty” by the Halovian to see if the Hound would swallow his pride to serve his so-called masters.

Nothing terrible happened, but he remained passive-aggressively polite when serving him, and Sunday remained passive-aggressively cool-headed in response. There was some snark of what dear “sweet-toothed” Sunday would want at a bar, and an icy reply of “aren’t you the master drink smith? Why don’t you show me those skills you boasted about?” which led to Gallagher being petty and giving Sunday the White Gentlemen drink, both for the story behind it being such a metaphor for Sunday, and because it was on the more bitter side of alcoholic drinks.

Sunday wasn’t too against the drink; it wasn’t something he would have ordered if it had been his choice, but it wasn’t a bad drink by any means. He couldn’t help but continue to drink it even after Gallagher left his little hidey booth to go back to the main bar, but he’d never stoop so low as to complement the Hound. Of course, he never ordered anything else from then on, only White Gentleman. In fact, over time it seemed to slowly get better, the flavors grew on him, and he couldn't help but look forward to it during difficult nights in the Dreamscape.

If Gallagher tried to needle him into a different drink, Sunday just bit back a “oh? Admitting defeat? I thought this was your best drink for me?” with a little smirk while Gallagher had to use every bit of self-control to not punch him in the face.

As time went on, the bar slowly became a place Sunday frequented to not quite relax, but to get away from the hustle and bustle of Penacony and his duties as one of its main faces. The stresses slowly started piling up, especially with the Charmony fast approaching in a few months and all that came with it.

Gallagher didn’t seem to loosen up regarding his attitude with Sunday, but he did get better at shoving down the visceral hatred he had for everything to do with The Family and Sunday as time went on. He didn’t get soft with Sunday per se, but he definitely kept an eye out for him, and definitely knew when to cut off his drinks on days where it seemed that Sunday wasn’t all that there for their usual veiled comments towards one another when he went to serve him his drink.

It started small, with Sunday staying later and later until sometimes he was the last one to leave the bar to return to reality. Gallagher wasn’t quite sure what to make of it, still wasn’t quite sure this wasn’t some weird long-term test Sunday was devising, especially since he still seemed to be the same ruthless Family member, the same Head of the Oak Family, when Gallagher was working as a Bloodhound outside the bar. For some reason though, within the enclosed space of this strange sanctuary, it was almost peaceful between the two.

One night, there was something wrong when Sunday entered the bar during Gallagher’s shift. He saw a bit of a crowd near the small stage that was within eyesight of his little hidey booth, it seemed some of the musicians of the live band were arguing? He watched as Gallagher came over, seemed to try to speak with the group before honing in on one of the musicians who had been making the most noise and seemed to be about to get physical with the rest. Sunday watched as Gallagher picked up the musician by the scruff of their suit with one hand and carried them towards the doors and lightly tossed them out.

(It was the first time Sunday had actually seen Gallagher perform anything resembling the actual duty of a Bloodhound. It only hit him that he’d only ever seen the other when giving reports, orders, or at the bar. Why was this so shocking to him, he’d seen the man’s arms before, hard not to with his slovenly dress and messy clothing style, as if he couldn’t bother to hide away his imperfections from the world, not like Sunday who refused to be seen by the world, to dare to show one thing off about himself despite his countless failings- he’s getting far too distracted by one meager showing of strength, focus Sunday)

There had always been a live music segment. Sunday was curious to see what would happen with the band missing a member, but was distracted by Gallagher placing his usual White Gentlemen in front of him before heading back to the musicians without a single word to him. Gallagher took a moment to speak with the rest of the band, who seemed to be coming out of their shock and took on worried looks. Sunday could only watch in muted shock as Gallagher went behind the bar and came back with a case, opening it to reveal a saxophone. He then went on stage with the rest of the group, positioned himself further to the side and in the back amongst the shadows within Sunday’s line of sight, and played with the band for the rest of the night.

Sunday couldn’t look away.

He was frozen as he watched Gallagher seamlessly transition from song to song, taking only small breaks to continue serving the other patrons before heading back in. Sunday only remembered about his own drink when his gloves began to get wet from the ice melting into condensation on his glass.

Something felt off within Sunday, and for the first time since Robin’s debut, he couldn't help humming to the music of the band, music that wasn’t of his own sister’s making. He couldn’t help but remember those little concerts the two would have, taking care of his little sister, his only world. He would do anything to keep the Harmony, to keep their family going. When was the last time they truly spent time together? Before he became the Head of the Oak Family? Before he couldn't recognize his own smile?

He was so lost in his thoughts, in memories he thought he buried, that he didn’t realize that it was once again closing time, and he was once again the last one left. He only snapped out of it when Gallagher came by to grab his empty glass, only quirking a questioning brow at him before heading back to the bar.

Gallagher had been keeping a quiet eye on the Halovian that night from the back of the band, in the shadows he felt the most comfort in when in the Dreamscape of Penacony. He had watched Sunday’s eyes glaze over, and the only reason he hadn’t felt offended by the seeming disinterest was the look in the other man’s eyes reminding him of his own when he looked in the mirror. The same look of shame, regret, loss, longing, of the wishes to regain everything he had lost. The same look he strove to hide under every bit of the facade he had crafted of this new self, but came back all too often with every reference of the Family found within his prison in the Dreamscape.

Maybe it was the shared nostalgia within his own heart, that little bit of his true self that he thought died when the Family tore out everything that made him who he was, that made him return behind the bar and begin making Sunday another White Gentlemen, giving Sunday a small nod to beckon him over. He wasn’t expecting anything from it, and he masked his own surprise when Sunday actually left his little shelter to come and take a seat in front of him at the bar. Even while out of it, Gallagher made note of the quiet confidence the other still carried himself. Nothing seemed wrong to anyone else looking at him, only for the lost look in his eyes.

The first time in the many months that they’ve been skirting around each other, and finally they seemed to be face to face.

It was quiet as Gallagher made Sunday his usual drink, a drink he had been slowly changing over the months to be sweeter and sweeter that Sunday never quite seemed to notice, or if he did, he never said anything, only seeming to savor it more each subsequent night. Maybe not even Gallagher noticed his own changes to the drink, subtle as they were.

It was quiet as Sunday took the finished drink, and it was quiet as his eyes slid over the bartop to see the saxophone case laying open with the instrument inside. It was quiet as Gallagher followed his eyes, as he came out from behind the bartop to take the saxophone out and take a seat in a chair only one seat down from Sunday’s. It was quiet as Gallagher began to play to his audience of one.

It was quiet as Sunday quietly hummed along.

It was quiet as they both knew that it would not last.

OK yea so this was all because I heard ‘La vie en rose’ at the end of the Jazz night event and went “Damn I wish that’s Gallagher playing on his Sax” and then we spiraled.

Uh. Idk what it is with me having a small ship moment which then spirals into a full blown writing session. My mind blanked out and as I came to I find out that I made a whole ass little one shot over here then completely forgot about it WHOOPS

So yea, hope my fellow Galladay enjoyers… enjoyed! I think I’ve slowly begun to crave… not domestic or fluff per se from these two, but after every AO3 fic being super dark between them (which I get! They are the toxic yaoi kings of Penacony as of writing this, no one is denying that!) I think I want to see them be explored in a more melancholic sense. Not quite the “forbidden” love angle, but in the “damn we kinda have some parallels, and maybe in another life we could have gotten along but there’s too much baggage and anger, both historically and currently to really even try anything”

I have this feeling this may not be the last time I write about these two… is Galladay going to be the ship that gets me to actually use my AO3 account?

[ghostofsnails]

so did you guys know theres this character called tristan vik disventure camp and

[st4rstudent]

i feel somewhat responsible for this, even if i’m not the one saying these things. I’m genuinely so sorry.

No need to apologize! It's not one singular person doing it and truth be told I don't think it's a large majority that thinks that (albeit the ones that do are quite vocal). I didn't mean to upset anyone or anything when complaining about it, I was just letting off some steam.

Having a yap session under the cut sorry I feel like rambling under your ask anon.

Admittedly, I do think there are reasonings for people thinking this way. A lot of the focus with Clash has been on the cogs, especially after the 1.3 update. Which I can't say I blame them! Managers were something new and exciting and (from what I can tell) really separated them from the other servers. I don't blame them for wanting to put focus on that because that was their thing. Alongside other things, but majorly when you hear Clash the managers are mentioned in someway shape or form. But as we all know, toons ended up taking the short stick from this. This isn't helped by the gameplay itself, being mainly a fetch-quest deal so you often only talk to npcs once or twice unless if they're repeated ones and the taskline wasn't entirely accessible on the wiki for a while (shoutout to the wiki maintainers. The taskline script is a savior). Which I'm quite excited to see if they deal with this issue with the rewrite. I imagine they will, but anyways. Social media posts would often contain more managers than toons, which I also believe they're starting to fix. And ontop of this, I believe most of the team in the early era of the sever is gone, so there's been some stuff lost in the change. So yeah, dialogue/writing has been kind of rocky. AGAIN- I am completely aware of the rewrite going on and I am not judging them harshly based off of their current state. I'm very appreciative of the fact that they took the time to listen and are focusing on trying to fix it up. And then there's also fandom mischaracterization- especially of the cogs. Forgive me for mentioning mischaracterization because normally I wouldn't really care (I've mischaracterized characters before..especially in my younger years. I think it's just a process of learning an having fun and I hate to limit anyone because of it). With that being said, there's a lot of baby-fying and coddling of the managers. Especially with those who have more 'sympathetic' stories (Misty, Chip, Winston specifically). Don't get me wrong, I like these characters and I can appreciate the story they're trying to tell, but I feel like so many people will hear their dialogue and then misplace their anger. People get mad at Bessie for trying to protect HER lighthouse or at the Elders for trying to keep YOTT safe (lets not forget Winston was there to brainwash toons). Yes, yes technically there would've been better ways to do it but consider this: The toons are scared. Their homes, stores, lives are being taken over by a big corporation that has more resources that they do. They don't have the privilege of waiting, seeing, and gathering. And then people forget that the company has such a huge role in both toons and cogs lives. If you're mad over the mistreatment of Misty or the fact that Winston is still in the dungeon, your anger should be directed at the company who doesn't care. I may be completely wrong in saying this, but I feel like the stories with almost all of the managers is a reflection of the company. The toons are only trying to protect themself and their environments and yet this seems to go forgotten when people start bashing them. And of course, I'd consider myself a toon guy so me saying all this and complaining may come off as "I HATE the cogs and everyone who posts only about them!" and for clarification that's not true. You all know how much I like that little brain thing. The cogs are interesting, their designs are fun, I don't blame people for liking them because I do too. I just wish that the thought process behind so many of these discussions wasn't so cog focused because I believe that this anger at the toons for, RIGHTFULLY, defending themselves helps push this mischaracterization of them as a whole. That they're mean, boring, unlikeable while the opposite is true. Yes there are some, what I'd consider, "filler" dialogue from the shopkeepers. This is just because of the gameplay. But there are some funny and cute moments with them if people would just listen and read.

Which also brings me into another point: people skip the dialogue. I've caught myself doing this before (on my first account. I have 4 accounts total, so I reread the dialogue on like 3 of them). But people will complain about lack of toon personalities while doing this. It's like reading through a comic book, only looking at the drawings, and then complaining because there "isn't a storyline". Luckily, there's been efforts to keep track of the dialogue on the wiki but I doubt a lot of people are going through and reading the entire script. It just feels very disingenuous to criticize the dialogue when you haven't even read it. Likewise, people don't seem to read the blogposts either. This is both from a dialogue aspect and from an update aspect (people continuously asking about hammerspace/mix-and-match under unrelated posts).

[cloudd-nyne]

.

[scamera-writes]

Her. An Essay.

The spring air lies heavy in your lungs as you breathe in deeply, the bright smells assault your nose and waves of nostalgia roll off the hills. You know this is her favorite season so you’ve dressed prepared for the chill in the air.

It's a long walk to the meadow with a shovel in hand and wheelbarrow pushed in front of you, but you do it. When you get there, a girl smiles up at you from where she is playing in the grass.

You know her age, but do not say it. You know her name, but do not say it. You know her, but do not say it.

She says hello in that sweet mellow tone that sounds so foreign yet so similar and tastes like syrup on your tongue. Her eyes are wide and shining, but blissfully not tear stained- like your own- and her cheeks are round with a warm flush as her smile softens.

You do not meet her eyes, those same beautifully colored eyes that match yours, searching for a hint as to what you’re doing here. You gaze across the meadow instead but still catch a glimpse of her blue denim overalls and green shirt.

They match your own in a way.

You finally say hi back and take the shovel to the dirt under a beautifully perfect sycamore tree that arches into the sky; it rises before the two of you, right in the middle of the meadow. The dirt stains your clothes as you drop to your knees, using your hands more than the shovel to dig at the layered earth.

You hear soft footsteps behind you but don’t look up from your work. To your side you see the girl walk up to you again and she places a small flower behind your ear before grinning and moving to lay in the sun near you.

You pluck the flower out from behind your ear to examine it. A white petunia. A wistful familiarity to the flower washes over you and you tuck it back behind your ear before moving back to the freshly unearthed dirt.

You can feel her watching as you dig this pit, you hate the feeling of dirt under your fingernails. The mud cakes on your hands and crackles with every movement; it makes your skin crawl but you don’t give up now. After a small hole is dug, you grab the large stone and tools brought in the wheelbarrow and begin to carve. She sits next to you now, her smaller hands grip a rock in her own palms and she plays with it gently.

You carve a name you didn’t think you’d ever write again into the rock and place it at the top of the pit. She recognizes the name, tips her head smiling gently, and in an understanding manner she stands up.

And walks away. Around the back of the sycamore tree she disappears and then reappears.

She plucks a sycamore leaf off the ground when she´s visible again and looks up as you smile at her. She drops the leaf into the hole you've dug, then helps you repack the layers of sediment that you both know you’ll unearth again, in the future, to be intertwined together in the end.

But not now. Now, the earth is resealed and she smiles sweetly, laying a makeshift bouquet of petunias and poppies with a gentle hand.

You get up and hold a hand out for her, she doesn't look away from the earth you've both just moved and instead runs her hands over the top of the rocks again before sighing with a big smile. She gets up and grabs your hand, it's so much smaller and softer than yours yet you can still feel the dirt on both of your hands.

She grips your hand a little tighter, following your lead as you walk towards home, flower still tucked behind your ear you notice a matching flower behind her own. And you smile.

When you get closer to the house, her eyes are wide with soft recognition, a place so familiar to the both of you yet it feels cold and empty at the same time. You invite her inside again, it's been so long for you both, still the house is like an old friend, in a way. You hold open the door and she steps through.

She walks over to the dinner table and sits down at the far side, gesturing for you to sit on the other but you shake your head politely.

You aren't ready yet.

You ask if she’d like a drink, and she nods. You already know what she would like so you don’t have to wait for her to tell you. Passing over the tall glass with ice clinking in it feels like a ritual. You don't want to let go. You do. You sit down across from her.

You know what's coming next and it's hard. You know you have to accept it. Losing her again won't be easy but you know it's not permanent this time.

She takes small sips of her drink, smiling over to you but neither of you attempt to make small talk anymore, you both know how the interaction will end.

And it's not bittersweet. Neither of you are upset. She is content in a way you don’t think you quite understand yet. But you think you feel complete, whole and peaceful for possibly the first time in your life.

It's enjoyable to watch her glowing eyes look at you with respect and admiration, to be able to grow into what you did makes her heart beat with something adjacent to love.

And as you leave the house, knowing you will be reunited in the end, to be buried in love & hate, happiness & anger, and warmth & heartache. You know it's love. It's always been love.

For her.

-Her. An Essay. (By me)

Happy trans visibility day. This is an ode to the girl I was. We will be buried together in the end. I love you, take care.

[thefrogdalorian]

went to a museum today and this painting made me think of sleepy Din getting some rest with his beskar spear after a fight 🥺

[waywardsalt]

fuck it, unedited snippet from an early early post-ph scene i decided to write one night

[bulletbilltime]

Oh y'all are sharing Spotify Wrappeds? Oh sure here's mine. I'm still waiting on my actual year-end list though. Yeah I'm making a homebrew year-end chart. Yeah it won't be ready for another 24 days. Yeah I use homegrown weekly data points harvested from local scrobble aggregators. Wait where did everyone go

[youredreamingofroo]

5 and 11 for roo 🫵

Hallo Anon, thank you for this ask!! :))

Questions from : Pride Ask Game

5, How did you figure out your oc's identity?

I still haven't figured it out completely myself, but I see Roo being about as confused as I am, however! I have been settling on having him identify as Genderfluid as of late! I don't think Roo would want to be a woman, but he definitely enjoys being feminine, and enjoys being able to slip in and out of that femininity and in and out of his masculinity. I don't think Roo ever feels like a man, being called a "man" feels too... heavy for him? And for him to be called a woman, it feels too far on the gender spectrum for him. He sees being called a "guy" as perfectly gender neutral for him, and no matter how masculine or feminine he feels, he does not like being called a man/woman for aforementioned reasons. Also, non-binary IS an identity he has pondered, but ultimately, he ruled it out, simply because he's always gonna feel either masc or fem or some combo of the two, being referred to and using non binary as a label felt wrong to him and just was too much.. of a grey area? I guess? It didn't fit the last puzzle piece spot like Genderfluid does. I hope that answers the question shgbajn 😭😭 I moreso ended up answering how HE figured out his identity, but I feel like a lot of my own reasoning is applicable/adjacent to his reasoning.

11, Is your oc open about their identity? Are they more lowkey or more blunt about it? Why or why not?

Roo is not open about his identity. Roo has always felt shame towards his sexuality and identity, He's felt shame about who he is since he was ~16-17, and as comfortable as he may be in his identity, he has come to view identity as... almost a vulnerability- there's a looming feeling of dread at the idea of being vulnerable and "intimate" with people he doesn't know or people he isn't super acquainted with. When laying it on people that he's not cis, he often approaches the conversation in a veryyy slow and lowkey way ("hypothetically speaking,,, how would you feel if someone you know/knew wasn't,,, uhm,,, cis,,,?" for a brief example), trying to make himself not obvious at all, but unfortunately for Roo- he's stupid and pretty oblivious, plus his method of coming out is just.. well. very obvious. So people will often figure it out before he can even properly come out 😭

[the-blathermouth]

The swordswoman and the officer

An original story (how did I do this I'm usually not able to do this)

(the art is better if you click it)

It was 10:30 at night, Chief sat on a park bench waiting anxiously for Ruth to show up. He still wasn't too sure that this lady wasn't a criminal, she looks pretty rough around the edges and acts like an average delinquent, but if Lady Law says to give her a chance then that's exactly what he's gonna do.

"Hey man sorry for being so late, had to grab something." His thoughts were interrupted by Ruth walking up to him illuminated by the moonlight as she took a seat next to him. "There's no law about being late is there?" "Oh no, it's not illegal." Chief replied "...Just rude." They talked through the night, him about all the 'crime' he saw that day and her about her crazy boss. As Ruth ranted Chief took the time to really look at her, she was just as rugged and suspicious and beautiful as she was when he first saw her, she calls it an 'anime protagonist' look but he calls it an 'if-Lady-Law-hadn't-said-otherwise-I-would've-smacked-you-over-the-head-before-you-even-knew-I-was-there' look.

As he was admiring that look he noticed a lilac rod strapped behind her back. "What's that?" He finally ask, she looked at the rod, looked back at him with a smirked and stood up. "Oh you mean THIS?" She reached behind her and unsheathed a sword much to Chiefs surprise, it was a thin lavender blade attached to a mauve guard with purple vines eached into it that lead to puffy looking pommle, it was a beautiful sword, but Chief wasn't thinking about that.

"I figured since we've known each other for a while and you've always brought that baton with you maybe I could start bringing my sword. She's quite a beauty ain't she? I think I've had her for about-" Ruth went on and on about her sword while waving it around not noticing Chiefs intense stare behind her. 'That's a weapon!' he thought. 'A dangerous weapon! She could hurt someone with that! She's a criminal, I just know it!' His thoughts swirled together as he reached down for his night stick. 'Criminal...she's a criminal...gotta take her down before she-'

"Officer Chief, stand down." He froze. There she was. Lady law speaking to him through his baton, she's never steerted him wrong before and he trusts her judgement more than anything. "Chief I told you to hear this one out and you said you would, she has not proven herself to be a threat to justice of any kind and if anything has proven to be the opposite!" "But...the sword." Chief whispered with a look of shock frozen on his face, he heard Lady Law breath a sigh in return. "I know we don't usually do this kind of thing but just walk up to her and ask about it, is she permitted to own it? Does she know how to handle it properly? What does she do with it? Stuff like that. Perform a background check and then act accordingly." "Background check...got it" With that he let go of the baton and walked up to Ruth who was posed holding her sword in the air and her free hand to her chest. "And sure some say 'Rosé' is a weird name for a sword but I say-"

"Where did you get it?" Chief interrupted her, his voice suddenly cold and staring at her with a blank expression. "Hm? Excuse me?" "Where did you get it? Did it come with a permit?" Ruth suddenly seemed nervous. "Uhh you don't need a permit to own a-" "Do you know how to use it? Who trained you? Are you responsible with it? Have you ever killed anyone with it?" With every question he grew more and more intense until Ruth broke out in nervous laughter "ehehehe, alright alright take it easy officer there's nothing illegal going on here." Suddenly Chief felt a wave of shock run through him. "To answer all...that I got it from a friend that makes swords, that same person also trained me-" Ruth started talking but he couldn't hear her. he went lightheaded, he felt his lips curl into a smile and all he could hear was what she just said to him. 'alright take it easy officer there's nothing illegal going on here.' 'alright take it easy officer.' 'take it easy officer.' 'officer.'

"So am I all clear?" Ruth asked, snapping Chief out of his trance. "Oh...yeah, yeah your clear....I think I'm gonna head home now." With that he turned to leave as Ruth called out out her goodbyes behind him.

Chief slowly walked down the lamp-lit street holding his night stick to his chest in both hands, muttering softly to himself with a dreamy expression as he replayed the nights events in his head. "Officer...officer... officer..." suddenly he springs up and breaks into a sprint, jumping around and gripping his head and waving his arm frantically. "OFFICER! SHE CALLED ME OFFICER! I'VE BEEN ON PATROL FOR ALMOST A YEAR AND NO ONE BUT YOU HAS EVER CALLED ME THAT!" Chief takes a big twirl and snuggles his night stick to his face. "Oh lady law~" He whispers "I'm so glad you told me to give her a chance. She respects me, she really respects me as a man of the law. She sees my vision..." He gasps. "What if it's her vision too? Is that why you told me to stand down? What if she wants to be my partner!? Ooh that would be WONDERFUL!" He struck a pose, holding his night stick in the air and and his free hand to his chest just like Ruth did. "I can see it now. The two of us working side by side, we could clean the streets of crime and instill justice together! A noble swordswoman...and her officer."

Suddenly Chief noticed someone down the road in front of him leaning against a lamp post smoking a cigarette...a loiterer. He heard the whispers of Lday Law fill his head as he reached for his night stick, he felt his mouth form a twisted grin as he stalked towards the criminal. "It's strange that it feels so good to hear someone say it..." He thought

"After all I really AM a officer."

[pyrodolls]

headcannons for cuddling with bayani?

CUDDLING HCS (SUPERFAN! YANDERE BOY X READER)

WARNINGS: sfw, kinda fluff, slight angst, worshipper yandere, kinda insecure bayani as usual, established relationship, lowercase intended, gender neutral reader, i do not condone yanderes

A/N: hey y'all... happy 2025. it feels so weird to say that. i posted my first fic on here a little over a year ago soooo thanks for sticking around with me for so long. i think my writing is still improving and i'm still not very satisfied with a lot of my work, but i really appreciate every single like and reblog i get. thank you guys! (p.s i've actually been writing x reader fanfics since i was 8 years old. you'll never find my old wattpad accounts...) btw i know the banner below is actually from some random manga i've never heard of BUT i was scrolling thru pinterest and saw him and i was like "yeah thats bayani."

BAYANI is utterly clueless on the topic of physical affection. he's completely inexperienced when it comes to anything romantic in general. let's say you suddenly curled up to him while you two watched a movie. he froze and didn't know what to do. his anxieties drove him mad enough to distract him from the movie. should he put his arm around you? where do his legs go? should he lay his head against yours? your comfort is his top priority, so he'd gleefully mold himself into whatever position makes you happy without any regard for his own enjoyment. but should he directly ask you what position you favor? would it paint him as stupid to not already know of your preferred cuddling positions? his worst nightmare is looking like a fool before your eyes.

but as his overthinking worsened, you simply wondered why he froze and took his stillness as a sign that he was uncomfortable. you scooted away from him, and he frowned. did he do something wrong? oh crap, he really did embarrass himself in front of you. maybe he should speak up about it and ask why. if you broke up with him because of it, at least he'd know why.

"did i make you uncomfortable?" he muttered, quiet enough for you to hear but not loud enough to be clear.

"what? no, i moved away because i thought you were uncomfortable. i'm sorry that i did that, i probably should've warned you first..."

silence followed your words, with nothing but the sounds of the television and bayani's quick, uneasy breathing.

after choosing his words carefully in his head, he stammered. "well, i- uh... liked it. i just... didn't know what to do."

"oh, thank goodness. i thought i did something wrong," you laughed. "okay, here's what you do..."

you carefully moved closer to him, resting your body against his and laying your head on his shoulder. then, you moved his arm to wrap around your shoulder and gently pushed his head to the top of yours.

"there we go. see? just like this."

with his chin on top of your head, he directly felt the vibrations of your giggles overwhelming his senses and distracting him from the erratic beating of his heart. it always made him giddy to spend time with you, but being gently directed on how to please you gave him a new, fuzzy sensation in his body that he silently hoped would never end.

his existence is for your happiness. he is nothing but a toy for your enjoyment and amusement. your desires and needs are to be met at your command with no question from him. without you, he has no purpose-- nobody integral to serve. it may seem like a miniscule moment to you. a laughable misunderstanding, even. but to him, he is ashamed of himself for not immediately synchronizing with your needs. he'll remember that moment and take note of it for next time-- it'll haunt him every time he tries something new with you. even if you reassured him that you don't mind, his insecure nature will drive him to absorb every individual second of that memory and dissect it far more seriously than you can imagine. it’ll motivate him to be a better boyfriend for you.

[changisworld]

“just try it”

fuckboy!hyunjin x reader

Word count;7,023

Summary: you’re known as quite a timid & closed off person in your college class, the one who studies 24/7 & doesn’t have much interest/ confidence in order to enjoy the usual college life, including having sex. You get partnered up for a project with the known fuckboy of the campus, hyunjin.

MDNI, 18+ only, smut warnings under the cut

©ANY translation, copy & paste, posting of my work is strictly forbidden for ANY posts/ writing i post.

main masterlist here

part 2 here

SMUT WARNINGS: Virginity loss (f rec), slight coercion, kinda manipulative hyune, fingering(f rec). oral (both rec), piv, multiple orgasms, slight needy hyune, slight body worship, nipple sucking, light marking(scratching, hickey), corruption???, mention of blood( It's extremely brief) kinda angsty ending??

"Hyunjin, for the presentation you can go with... y/n!" your lecturer says after scanning the room & you freeze as she says this, making you want the ground to swallow you on the spot. You know Hyunjin & you haven't got a good opinion on him whatsoever.

You give a faint, displeased smile to your teacher before she moves onto sort out other groups for the project & a minute later, the chair beside you is moved & your new partner is now sitting next to you.

"heya, glad to be your partner, don't worry, I'll actually pull my weight sweetie so you won't be doing it on your own." he says with a faint smile, resting his head on his hand as he looks at you.

You stare at him as he says this, honestly in disbelief. You know he is just trying to piss you off as he has asked you to do an essay for him, leaving you with all his notes before running off, not allowing you to even say no. "I don't want you to help me, you'll make us fail. I'll just do it." you say, venom in your voice & hyunjin 'tuts' at this.

"Cmonnn y/n, don't be silly, i'd love to help! You can come to my place at the end of today & we can start." he says as he rips the corner of the piece of paper you were writing on & writing his address on it before sliding it to you & then standing up & resting his hands on the back of your chair as he leans down to you. "See ya later."

He leaves the classroom as the bell goes & you groan, scrunching up the paper he scribbled on & shoving it into your jacket pocket before also leaving.

⭑･ﾟﾟ･*:༅｡.｡༅:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑

You spend your lunchtime in the library, starting a few rough drafts so you can get a better idea of what you want to say as you present, taking the extra couple of minutes to write Hyunjins parts too. You have your headphones on & you're quite honestly in your own little bubble but as you look u from the computer to open your drink, you notice the same annoying guy from earlier, sitting across from you, looking at his phone, not paying you any mind.

"Can I help you?" you question, staring at him with an annoyed lookon your face. "Actually, you can. Stop working without me, I want to help." he responds back, not looking up from his phone as he texts someone. You scoff & roll your eyes as you swivel around in your spinny chair, looking right at him.

"I don't feel like failing because you do jack shit. Just go n i'll do it myself, go admire yourself in the mirror or something & leave me alone." you respond again before turning back to your computer but a second later your chair is being pulled by him so you're facing him again, his phone now on the desk.

"Stop being so weird y/n, I want to pass as much as you do so stop being so stingy. Move, I wanna see what you've wrote." he flashes you a closed mouth smile before lightly pushing your chair, allowing him to now have space for him to also sit. You groan before standing up. "Just take my seat Hyunjin, I'm leaving." You push your seat towards him & begin to leave but you feel him swing his arm out & hook around your waist before pulling you.. onto his lap.

"You're so hard to please, you like this with everyone n everything hm?" he questions as he begins reading what you've written down, grabbing the keyboard & beginning to tweak a few things.

You hate to admit it & glad there are no mirrors anywhere so you don't have to allow yourself to see how much you're blushing. You can't think of anything to say so you just sigh as you watch him type, his arm still around your lower half, him paying no mind to it as he pulls his airpods out & handing you one as he uses the other as he puts a random playlist of his on, your own headphones around your shoulders.

You both stay like this, you being too shy to move & he just simply not caring, he asks for your opinion on certain parts as he types out your opinions.

A minute or so later, you both hear footsteps entering the library but you both don't pay attention, up until the footsteps stop right in front of you, the footsteps belonging to another girl in your class, Lisa. You give her a small smile, trying to be polite despite not really being friends but she ignores you as she pulls Hyunjins airpod out & he flips his head around before looking up at her.

"Ah, hiya Lisa, you alright?" he asks as he now realises the perfume you're wearing, which he likes. "Yup. Wha'cha doing? I thought we were going for lunch together at that new cafe I saw, y/n keeping you prisoner? You're more than capable to do this without Hyunjin today, right? Can you stand up n Jinnie cmon." Lisa replies, trying to sound as if she is joking around but it's obvious she's pissed.

Her words make you remember that you're still sitting on Hyunjins lap & you instantly shoot up but his arm stops you, forcing you back onto him. "Ahh Lisa totally forgot, y/n is helping me get that A so i'm gonna stay, go with Chan or something, I'm busy." he responds, turning the chair you're both sitting on so you're both now facing the computer as he begins typing again.

Lisa scoffs as she has her eyes burning into the back of your head before she slams his airpod back down on the desk & walking out, her paying no mind to the stares from annoyed students she is receiving. "Bitch almost broke my airpod into damn pieces." he murmurs as he reaches out & takes it back & puts it in his ear, not mentioning anything else, which makes you curious.

"Why is she so upset? You can go with her Hyunjin I can really do this on my own." you question, reaching forward to pull your notepad towards you, swatting his hands off the keyboard as you start copying what you've wrote on paper, onto the document. "She's pissed because me n her have been fucking n she can't handle me talking to any other pretty girl. Me n her are nothing so don't stress pretty, I'm available." he jokes as he leans back to let you type & you scoff.

"How can you be fucking her yet you claim to be nothing with her? You're playing with her feelings, it's sad." you respond, annoyance in your tone & Hyunjin just sighs. "I've got a big dick n I like to use it. You'd fuck her too if you had a dick, she's good at sucking it, believe me. She said she wouldn't catch feelings but here we are. I'm tryna pawn her off to Seungmin or Chan but she doesn't take the hint." he says, nonchalantly as his fingers fiddle with the bottom of your shirt, simply twiddling it in between his fingers.

"Why you interested anyway, It's casual sex. Don't you relate? I know you don't party or anything since i woulda seen your pretty face from anywhere but don't you ever hook up with anyone?" He questions, leaning forward as he rests his chin on your shoulder, not failing to miss how you tense up as he does so. You don't respond to him, which give him his answer.

"Ohhh, you a virgin or something? How does someone who looks like you not get around?" he teases, wiggling from side to side in the chair, making you wiggle on him as you huff. "Shut up Hyunjin, oh my god. I just.. have better things to do? I have better things to focus on." you murmur back, cheeks going red again but this time out of embarrassment. He chuckles before letting the subject go, not wanting to pry too much.

You type for a minute or so more as he helps you reword it, suggesting some ideas which actually aren't stupid. This goes on for a few minutes until you hit a stump & both can't agree on what to do. "Just come to mines later, mkay? I know you've kept the paper, Sorry to be the one to break the bad news but I've got to go see someone, so you're gonna need to get off my lap." he says, patting your leg & you shoot up, remembering where you both are & being reminded again you are siting on thee Hyunjins lap.

He packs his stuff up before ruffling his hair up & then walks past you, taking his airpod out of your ear & also your headphones off your shoulders at the same time. You turn around to protest but he speaks before you can get any words out. "I'll take these with me so you have to come later, unless you wanna buy another pair of course, see ya later pretty." he skips away, your teeth clenched & eyebrows frowned as you watch him.

⭑･ﾟﾟ･*:༅｡.｡༅:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑

You reach his apartment later that night after going home to get dressed, now wearing sweatpants & a plain grey tee & you stand at the front door for a minute, trying to talk yourself into knocking on the door but also to try calm your nerves. 'why am I so fucking nervous?' you keep asking yourself. Before you can act on anything however, you feel a tap on your back & it's obviously hyunjin, staring back at you, before moving forward to unlock his door, as he does this you realise the faint smell of a sweet smelling perfume, which makes you roll your eyes.

"You coming in then?" he questions as he kicks off his own shoes, arm still holding the door open for you & you sigh before stepping in, also taking off your shoes.

You follow Hyunjin into his bedroom out of all places as he takes your bag off your back & throws it onto his bed, you take a seat on his desk chair, spinning from side to side as you sit on top of your hands. "Why can't we study in your kitchen hmm? or livingroom?" you question & he flops onto his bed before digging through your bag to grab your books. "My wifi connection is shit everywhere except for my bedroom & bathroom for some reason so unless you wanna spend even longer with me than you want, not that I'd mind, by the way, we gotta do it here." he says, not bothering to look up at you as he grabs a few highlighters & pens from your pencil case, taking the extra few seconds to have a quick dig through the rest of your bag before putting it on the floor.

You scoff as you stand up off the chair & settle down on his bed beside him after realising it will be almost impossible for you to both sit at his desk due to the size of it & the random clutter all over it.

You both begin figuring out what the hell you both need to include for your exam, Hyunjin obviously still randomly trying to flirt with you but you just ignore it. You both actually start making progress, both of you lying on your stomachs across from one another as the mixture of scrap paper, books & laptop is in between the both of you as you both balance yourselves on your elbows.

Every time you both have a quick discussion, however, you can't help but notice how much his eyes wander to the opening of your shirt, showing the top part of your chest, you try to ignore it but you can't help but get a bit flustered by it, which he realises so he doesn't have the shame to stop. "Can you stop trying to stare at my tits? You aren't even being discreet." you scoff, trying to sound stern but your voice pitch raises at the end regardless.

"Can't help it. You're hot n if it's right in front of me, you can't blame me, silly." he quickly responds, nibbling on the end of your pen. "You're such a man slut, you have another girls perfume on you yet you can't contain yourself around someone else not even two hours later, you gross me out." you snap back, reaching out to snatch the now slightly chewed pen from between his pretty lips & wiping it on him before dropping it on the bed.

"Only have the perfume smell because Lisa knew I was gonna be with you later, you jealous or something y/nnnn?" he snarks, reaching out to boop your nose, watching as the tip of your ears go bright red. "Jealous? Don't make me laugh, Hyunjin. I don't care what you n her have going on, believe me." You break eye contact with him, getting flustered from the conversation happening. "Cmonnn, y/n, if you wanna fuck, just say that." he half jokes, picking up the pen again before fiddling it in his hand.

You laugh at his words, honestly not even surprised at what he is saying. "You're so cocky, god. I'd genuinely, rather die." you spit, eyebrows frowned, which makes him hum. "So, you're telling me, If i was to kiss you, you'd actually push me off you?" he queries, pushing the paper & books to the side, nothing separating the two of you anymore.

You open your mouth to mostly yell at him for even saying something so dumb but you don't get any words out as he puts his hand behind your head & leans forward before connecting his lips against yours. You freeze under the touch, not even really knowing what to do since you've never actually kissed anyone either, but you can't help but take notice of how soft his lips are & how they move in a perfect rhythm.

He breaks his lips off yours a few seconds later, but doesn't leave your space, your lips centimetres apart. He again realises how much he is blushing & you hate how composed he looks. "Y/n." he says, in a lower voice. "mhmm?" you instantly reply, your heart racing. "Was that your first kiss?" he questions, the hand behind your head now playing with your hair.

You embarrassingly nod your head & he just smiles. "Well, since we are here, we can redo it, if you want. No pressure." he responds, his voice now sounding more soft. You mentally contemplate for a split second before nodding. "just follow my lead alright, it's easy." he says before leaning back in & kissing you again.

You move your lips against his, remembering to relax your lips so it feels easier & better for Hyunjin. You subconsciously lift your hand to rest it against his cheek but as you do this, he leans further forward & pushes into you with his bodyweight, making it so you are now laying on your back & you can't help but feel your underwear dampen, which gives you even more butterflies.

He moves the hand that was resting on the back of your head & rests it on your cheek instead, caressing it with his thumb as his other hand now rests on your lower stomach before his fingers begin playing with the hem of your shirt & you move your own hand & rest it on top of his that is playing with your shirt.

He keeps the pace of the kiss slow, keeping it enjoyable for the both of you but he can almost hear your heartbeat going at a million miles per hour as he teases you by biting your bottom lip, which makes you let out a small whimper which instantly sends blood to his cock.

You somehow forget to breathe & as he breaks the kiss for the second time, you're breathing a lot heavier as your cheeks are on fire due to how much you're blushing.

"There's no way that was your first kiss, you're so good at it." he remarks, biting his own bottom lip, which you can't help but find extremely hot. His fingers now dig themselves under your shirt, his finger now lightly scratching & caressing the skin of your stomach, making your back arch slightly.

"It was my first time.. I swear." you say back, your voice sounding more blown out & airy than you wanted. "Well, if you want, we can go further. I've already been your first in one thing & I'd be able to actually show you how to feel good.. for your future partners, of course." he says, his voice sounding low again, his fingers not stopping their actions as he still caresses your skin.

"I- that's a huge thing Hyunjin, I want my first time to be with someone who I really care about." you basically whisper back, your nerves making you want to almost vomit, he pouts at your response. "heyyy, I can show you absolutely everything you'll ever need, I'd look after you so well, make you feel amazing, if you'll let me. I know you care for me even a little bit since you've been blushing every time we have spoken today. Not to mention, I've never had a bad review." he responds, elongating the last word to try get his point across.

As he says this, he leans further down & rubs his nose against yours while giving a faint smile, before leaning down & nuzzling his face into your neck , inhaling your sweet vanilla perfume before nibbling on your neck. "I promise. pleaseee.?" he whispers in your ear, his fingers now crawling further up your frame, resting just beneath your tits, which makes your breath hitch. You think for a second, your hand reaching up to caress his long soft hair as you nod your head before mumbling an 'okay' & you can feel him smile against your neck.

He sets himself back up on his elbows, giving you a warm look before leaning back, kissing you again as his fingers now reach up & cup your right tit, to his surprise you're not wearing a bra, which makes him hum. "No bra? Did you expect this, y/n?" he asks, smirk not leaving his face as he starts to brush his fingers over your nipple, making you squirm beneath him. "They're just uncomfortable." you reply, making him chuckle before kissing you again.

He wraps two fingers around your nipple before twiddling it between them, tugging it lightly every once in a while, liking the reactions you give him as he does so, letting small noises escape your lips & get swallowed by him.

This continues for a minute or so before he moves his lips from yours & moves to your jawline, slowly littering kisses down it before moving down to your neck as he removes his hand from your tit to lift your shirt up but you stop him as you sit up & take your shirt completely off, surprising yourself with the random outburst of confidence.

His eyes light up at the sight, your tits being some of, if not the best pair he has ever saw. He smirks at your face, you giving him a faint smile, your eyes filled with lust as you are convinced your panties are now soaked more than they already are. "so pretty, can I taste them?" he asks as he lays down & pulls you so you're now straddling him, your ass now being able to feel his thick hard on.

You nod & he wastes no time at all before pushing on your back, your tits now right above his face before he looks up at you, smiling before he latches his pretty plump lips on your nipple as his fingers begin playing with the other one again & you can't control the yelp you let out at the feeling. You throw your head back as your fingers weave their way through his hair as you lightly tug on it, making him release a few low groans as he continues suckling, spit leaving his lips & wetting your boobs.

You can't help but begin grinding against him, the sucking noises & your light whimpers filling the room. He switches to the opposite nipple & at the same time, his hand comes to rest on your ass, caressing it & squeezing the flesh, making you arch your back, wanting more.

"Hyune- more, please." you say, swallowing your pride & asking the man beneath you to give you what you now want. He unlatches himself & you look down at him, his lips & chin shiny with his own spit as he helps you grind against him. "Well what is it you want y/n hmm? You're gonna need to tell me if you want anything since I don't know what you can handle, silly." he replies, smirking at you as he wriggles his fingers into the waistband of your sweatpants as he now grinds into you too.

"I- fingers or something, please?" you whine, leaning forward to hide your face in the side of his neck, hiding the embarrassment on your face. Despite you not being able to see it, he is smirking as he helps move you so you are laying on your back again & your legs automatically part, your feet planted on the bed as he settles between them, sitting on his legs as he takes his hoodie off, revealing his gorgeous body which you can't take your eyes off of.

"Just giving you a bigger view with a view." he remarks which makes you snap out of it, chuckling to himself as he leans forward to kiss your forehead, making your heart flutter.

He sits back again before putting his hands on your knees, caressing them with his thumbs as he is between your legs. "Can I take these off? They're cute n all but I'm sure your bare legs look a whole lot better." he says as he is looking into your blown out pupils without his own, now fiddling with the drawstrings of your joggers.

"Please." you reply & he doesn't waste any time before helping take them off, you raise your hips for him to make it easier, now leaving you in just your basic, white cotton underwear which makes you hide your face in your arms, shy, but he is quick to swat them away.

"Don't hide your pretty face, there's nothing to be embarrassed of. You're so innocent, my y/nnie." you don't fail to miss the 'my' part & you clench around nothing, letting out a small huff as he lays himself down on your stomach. You set yourself up on your elbows as you look down at him, a bit confused as he admires your clothed core, a small wet patch seeping through the cotton.

He takes a finger & touches your wet patch before taking it to his lips & tasting it, letting out a hum noise as he smiles, not even looking at you as he then peels your panties off your skin too, now leaving you completely bare for him, making you squirm.

He plants some kisses on the inside of your thighs as his finger trails up & down your slit, spreading your wetness around your entire core, making you raise your hips off the bed due to the unfamiliar stimulation but he is quick to push you back down.

"I'm gonna give myself a better taste, alright? Keep your hips down or I'll stop. If you seriously want me to stop or slow down, just say the word yellow, okay?" he asks, fingers stopping their movement. "O-okay, can you just go slow? I don't really know what to expect." you reply, giving him a small, nervous smile, which he nods. "Of course, I was planning on it anyway beautiful, Just lay back f'me." You do as he says & lay back & gasp a second later as you feel the kisses have now moved from just your thighs, a kiss now being placed right on your clit.

He kisses from the top to the bottom of your pussy, listening for your reaction & once he realises it's a good reaction, he begins kitten licking your clit, his index finger still feeling around the outside of your hole, adding extra stimulation. He lets out a low groan & licks the entirety of your core in one motion, making you whine & you try to close your legs on accident but he's quicker & wraps your thighs around his arms, holding them open. "Taste so good, fuck." he murmurs to himself more than to you as he begins speeding up his motions slightly, flicking his tongue back & forth before taking your clit into his mouth, suckling on it, making sure to use plenty of spit, the noises of his lips & the wetness echoing throughout the room, almost as loud as the moans you're now making.

You try your best to not squirm too much but you can't help it & you are moving as much as Hyunjin is allowing you to which isnt much by the way, the sensation being completely new to you in the best way possible. You let out an even louder whine as he uses his teeth to lightly graze against your bud, throwing you towards a high, feeling much stronger than when you brought yourself to orgasms.

Hyunjin takes this opportunity to now slide a finger inside your tight hole which you clench around immediately, making him groan again. He begins to slowly finger you while feeling around for your G-spot which only takes him a few seconds due to his long fingers & he begins rubbing his finger up & down it, making your eyes roll to the back of your head as your legs begin to tremble.

"Hyunj- I'm gonna cum, d-dont't stop." you yelp, fisting his clean, grey bedsheets until your knuckles are turning white & who is Hyunjin to deny you? He continues at the exact same pace with his finger but decides to add a second one, stretching you out that bit extra as he continues to suck on your clit, using his tongue to massage it at the same time.

Your orgasm washes over you, it being the most intense thing you've ever felt. Your fingers latch onto his hair & pull on it, pulling a groan out of him as he lets you ride out the first orgasm of the night, his arms having to work harder to actually keep your legs open.

He unlatches himself & slowly pulls his fingers out of you when you've came down from your high, panting heavily as a thin sheen of sweat now coats your face. He sits back up on his legs, caressing the inside of your legs for a moment before crawling up your frame & tapping his now coated fingers on your lips & you understand instantly, opening your lips & he pushes his fingers into your mouth, resting on your tongue as you suck your own juices off them, his eyes not leaving yours for even a second.

He releases his fingers from behind your lips before leaning in & kissing you again, this time worming his tongue past your lips, allowing you to taste yourself even more, making you hum, not expecting to be so turned on by this.

You slither your hand down his pretty chest & even prettier abs before fiddling with the hem of his pants, looking up at him with glossy eyes. "Just gave you heaven n you're wanting more? Aren't you full of surprises." he teases, poking his tongue on the inside of his cheek. "I want to, return the favour, well, try to." you reply, fingers moving down to balm the huge tent in his pants, making him jerk his hips forward on instinct.

"Ahhh, you want to suck my cock, jagi? Aren't you too sweet. I'll guide you. Don't be intimidated though." He says before standing up to kick his pants off & taking his underwear off with it too & you now know what he meant by 'don't be intimidated' because he is huge. He is around 7 inches & it slightly curves upward & his balls pretty & full, making your eyes gape open in amazement but also nerves, he laughs at your reaction.

He sits back down on the bed & you take it upon yourself to move & settle down on the floor in front of him, sitting back on your knees as he opens his leg enough so you can settle between them.

"Just take it at the base with a grip that isn't too strong & jerk up & down at a slower pace & then work your way up, you can kinda twist your wrist in a way too. The tip is the most sensitive so make sure to focus on that mkay? Just do what feels right, I like a tiny bit of pain so don't stress if you graze it." he tells you, his hair sticking to his forehead as he looks down at you.

You nod at his words & begin jerking him off the way he instructed & you're clearly doing a good job as he jerks his hips into your hands, biting his bottom lip as you do so. "Make it wet, it feels better." he groans & you let a glob of spit fly past your lips onto his angry red tip, which makes him wince before you lean further forward & lick the bead of precum off his tip, making him groan.

You look up at his reaction as you begin to suckle on the tip of his cock before moving sown to the shaft & littering kisses & quick suckles on it, before repeating the action. Your hand is now wet with the spit you've dropped onto & jerked all over his cock & you you decide to wing it & you put his entire tip in your mouth, swirling your tongue over it & he throws his head back, trying his best to not jerk into your mouth as you work your way down slowly, taking about a quarter of his cock in your mouth as you keep jerking him off.

"You sure this is y-your first time? too good at th-this." he groans out as he gathers your hair out of your face & pulls it into a makeshift ponytail, groaning at the pleasure you're giving him. You try to take further in your mouth but he's quick to pull your head back up so you're not pushing yourself too much, him deeming it as too much to try deepthroat him on your first time.

Spit keeps escaping your lips & you jerk it into his cock, the sloppy noises turning you on impossibly more. You release his cock from your lips to get your breath back & you blow cold air onto his tip which makes his legs tense up as he lurches forward slightly. "You're made for this y/n, i'm convinced. Lay down on the bed for me pretty." he says in a aired out, raspier voice as he helps you stand up anyway & he lays you on your back.

He quickly walks over to the other side o the bed & opens his drawer before pulling out a condom, ripping it open with his teeth before walking back over to you, your legs already spread open enough for him to slot himself between. He puts the condom on & jerks himself off a few times & then drags his cock over your folds a few times, making you buck your hips.

"I've stretched you with my fingers but it's still gonna be a stretch y/n, please tell me to stop if it's too much, you're a smart girl so i'm sure you know it's gonna hurt. You ready?" he questions, his face more serious looking than before as he looks into your eyes, still dragging his cock, it running over your clit. "I know, Just do it, I'll be fine." you respond, your hands resting on your chest.

He gives you a warm smile before he slowly begins to push inside of you & your breath hitches in your chest, trying to not pay much mind to the pain but a few tears leak past your eyes. Hyunjin pauses his movement when he is half inside you, leaning forward to allow you to hold onto him. He plants a few kisses on your jawline before connecting his lips to yours, kissing you slowly as he pushes the rest of the way in, making you yelp into his mouth, his fingers coming up to wipe away your tears despite him not even being able to see them.

Your hands latch around his back as you keep clenching around him, making him groan into your mouth. Once he can sense you're more relaxed due to not clenching as tight as much anymore, he pushes the rest of the way in before pausing again.

"How are you feeling, beautiful? You alright?" he asks you as he moves the hair out of your face then kissing the tip of your nose. "H-i'm fine, just feels weird." you reply, one of your hands coming down to hold onto his muscly arm, relaxing yourself.

"Okay, I'm glad. I'm gonna move now, alright? The pain will pass, pinky swear." he gives you another peck before he sits back up & holds onto the inside of your legs, keeping you open for him as he slowly retracts himself then pumping himself back in, making you let out a small 'mhmmph' sound. He sets an extremely slow pace, not breaking eye contact with you to make sure you're not going through any extra discomfort.

You begin to let out small moans & whimpers after a few minutes, the pleasure now surpassing the pain. Hyunjin scrunches his eyes together as you clench around him, higher pitched moans leaving his lips. "You c-can go faster. Feels good." you tell him, trying to move your hips to get more. "Thought- you'd never ask. Yo're s-so tight y/n, fuck." he groans as he slowly begins to pick up his speed, the lube provided by the condom plus your wetness making it loud, your skin sticking together as he fully thrusts inside you.

"y-you're so beautiful. So good f'me y/nnie. so pe-perfect."" he whines as he sets a quicker rhythm, throwing his head back, trying to not cum on the spot just from the noises leaving your lips.

He brings a hand down to your clit & begins rubbing circles, matching the pace his cock is doing & your back arches off the bed & you shriek from the overstimulation. "G-gonna cum again, t-too much jinnie." you gasp, eyes rolling to the back of your head as your hand reaches down to try swat his hand away from your clit but he is quick to hold your hand down on your lower stomach, now making you feel his cock moving inside you. "you can take it pretty, Just a little more, o-okay? cum with me." he groans out, not slowing down his pace at all. Your legs keep shaking & your back keeps arching off the bed, unable to even form thoughts, the only words able to leave your mouth being his name.

"c-cuh-cumming hyune." you force out & hyunjin can't help but smirk. He lets go of your hand & leans back down so your chests are connected before nestling himself in your neck before he begins sucking a hickey into your skin, only partially on accident, but you pay no mind.

You begin clenching uncontrollably as you can feel your orgasm bubbling up, your whole body beginning to tingle as his cock is ramming into your G-spot without missing a beat. "Y/nnie p-please don't clench so much, g-gonna cum." You can't stop even if you wanted to though however as your orgasm squirts out of you, spraying directly onto Hyunjins abs, pubic bone, the base of his cock, the bed & a few droplets hitting your lower stomach too, your eyes rolling back into your skull as your fully body shakes, shrieking & gasping uncontrollably.

"Holy shit, y-you're too perfect, squirting on my cock, y/n you'-you're too beautiful, you're n-not real, oh my god." he whines into your neck.Hyunjin basically squeals, his moans are that loud as he bites down on your neck as his own release fills the condom, you being able to feel his cock pulsating inside you.

You both sit in silence for a minute, catching your breaths back, feeling each others chests expanding against the other, his hot breath against your neck as you weave your fingers through his now wet hair.

Once you have both actually came down to earth, he peels himself off of you before peeling the now used condom off his now softening cock & you realise it has a red tint to it despite him trying to hide it from you by throwing it in the bin quickly.

"Did i bleed on your dick Hyunjin? That's so gross I'm so sorry, you could have stopped I wouldn't have cared." you rush out, feeling a deep level of embarrassment but he just tuts in response. "Don't be ridiculous babe, It's normal, doesn't bother me." he replies as he walks over to his drawers, pulling out a pair of boxer shorts & a random tee shirt before handing it to you.

"You can just stay here tonight, I don't really want you tryna get home since it's not stupid to think you're gonna struggle to walk too much, we can go shower soon." He says as he climbs back up his bed, You would protest but you know he is no doubt right. He sits up by his pillows before pulling you into his chest as he kisses the top of your head.

You both stay like this for a while before you both remember your orgasm is still marinating into his bedsheets, he changes them right after he helps you into the shower before joining you.

⭑･ﾟﾟ･*:༅｡.｡༅:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑

It's been a week since Hyunjin took your virginity & you have tried your best to tell yourself it meant nothing to him, because it most likely didn't but you have since caught feelings for him, despite trying absolutely everything not to.

You both still met every day but it was mostly just on campus & you completed your project & obviously got an A but he actually helped so it wasn't just all you, which you deeply appreciate.

Ever since the project was finished, however, he has kept his distance. He doesn't sit anywhere near you & spends his time in lectures teasing the other random girls who fawn over him, which makes your heart burn.

You are just day dreaming when two girls in front of you talking catches your attention, & that's when you find out Hyunjin hooked up with one of them, the day after he was literally your first for everything.

You feel tears begin threatening to leave your eyes so you gather your stuff & leave the room, your lecturer not paying any mind & you begin walking towards the bathroom to try freshen yourself up when Hyunjin walks from the opposite direction & he notices the tears & he stops you by moving your chin so you're looking up at him.

"Why the tears, sweetcheeks? Pretty girls shouldn't cry." he remarks, chewing gum as he looks at you, wiping a tear off your cheek with his thumb. "Doesn't matter Hyunjin, stop bunking & go back to class." you say in a monotone voice. "woahhh, you're calling me Hyunjin again? I liked the name Jinnie a lot more, why've I been demoted hmm?" he teases back & you want nothing more than to punch the gum out his mouth.

"You tell me, do you tell all the other girl you fuck to call you Jinnie too? Like the one you fucked the day after you took my virginity?" you snap back, your voice shaking. He raises his eyebrows, honestly in shock from your words. "Babe, you know what I'm like, we aren't anything that I'm aware of so I'm a free man. If you want anything else, you gotta tell me." he replies, his voice sounding more soft as you actually begin to cry, which he hugs you as you do.

"I just thought you just wanted your cherry popped, y/nnie, I'm sorry for thinking so, mkay? We can get lunch together or something n cheer you up, we can speak about it." he offers & you just nod , leaving his arms as you wipe your tears away.

He gives you a smile before he wraps his arm around your shoulder, walking back the way he had just came from. "You can choose the place, but not too expensive since I'll pay as an apology present."

⭑･ﾟﾟ･*:༅｡.｡༅:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑

[pomefioredove]

having a crush on you

summary: how they would act having a crush on you type of post: headcanons characters: pomefiore (vil, rook, epel) additional info: reader is yuu, reader is gender neutral, rook is rook, not proofread, hi I'm insane and I love pining, I NEED to write another fic but with rook. might write this same prompt with other dorms

𝐕𝐢𝐥 𝐒𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐧𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐭

don't take his calm and collected facade as apathy

he's slowly losing his mind about this

"pacing back and forth, mumbling to himself, falling asleep thinking about you" kind of losing his mind

it's my personal belief that Vil hasn't been in love before this

hasn't even really thought about it

so when you enter the picture it kinda throws him off balance

and with the exception of Rook, no one can even tell

he is an actor, after all, he can play the part of "totally platonic friends with room for Jesus"

(maybe a little too well)

but Vil isn't entirely emotionally repressed

he keeps things to himself, yes, but he's quite conscious of his own wants and needs

so when he realizes he's been craving your presence more than usual he does acknowledge it

in his head

and then does nothing about it for months

...what? he's busy

things like this can wait for him, and he doesn't want to put a rift between you two in case it might be a passing feeling

well... it doesn't pass

he becomes keenly aware of how much he wants you around him, how much he thinks about you, how much your very presence is enough to make him happier than he's ever... really felt

and you know what?

he is totally cool about it.

just kidding. he drives himself insane trying to think of the perfect way to confess, something that will impress you and meet his standards

he's dropping hints left and right and you don't seem to be picking any of them up

which again, just makes him crazy

(some days he really wants to ask you how oblivious one person can be, but he restrains himself)

I mean, how many times can he send you red tulips before you finally get the hint? he's practically spelling it out for you!

there is... a tiny, little part of him that worries you don't reciprocate

is he not your type? are you interested in someone else? perhaps he'd been too harsh on you, after all...

the fact that one little potato can make him so worried absolutely drives him mad

he is the vision of poise and grace and you are ruining him

and this sort of mood comes and goes in waves

just when he thinks he's pulled himself back together, you'll smile at him or say something cute and suddenly he's back to square one

(you're so adorable it's annoying -_-)

while he's sorting out a good way to express his feelings properly, he'll be spending all his free time with you

you need some new things? he'll be glad to take you shopping

you came over to see Epel? oh, well, he's not here, but you should stay for some tea, anyway!

your afternoon is free? he has some new lip gloss he's been dying to test out...

𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐇𝐮𝐧𝐭

contrary to popular belief, I don't think Rook would be so open about it

he still compliments you, of course, and sings praises of your beauty and elegance, and has little regard for personal space, as always

but he's like that with a lot of people, so it's hard to really tell when he likes someone

the truth of the matter is that Rook Hunt can be just as reserved with his feelings as anyone else

when he really, really likes someone, he keeps it to himself

why?

he's hunting you he's learning more about you before making his true feelings known

he feels it's necessary to have an adequate amount of information on his target before making a move, after all

for reference: you catch his eye at orientation, and do not have a single conversation with him until after winter break

(of course, after that, you start mysteriously running into him everywhere)

is he kinda weird about it? uh. yeah.

this is Rook we're talking about

on the other hand, he's completely lovesick about you and it's almost cute

he's definitely the type to write your initials in a journal with a glitter pen while kicking his feet back and forth and giggling

seeing if you would sound better with his last name or he with yours...

definitely has a very weird photo collection of you somewhere in his room

along with stacks of poems, pressed flowers, and little gifts he intends to give you once he's won you over

(when, not if. Rook is nothing if not patient)

you may find a rose left outside Ramshackle every so often

or a few cans of tuna for Grim

all while acting like the same old eccentric Rook, no discernable difference

except when you can feel his eyes on you at random places in the middle of the day

Ace and Deuce call you paranoid but you can't shake the feeling

though, every once in a while he'll get a little grumpy

Rook is easily jealous, and while that sort of possessiveness never extended to untouchable idols like Vil and Neige, he's already decided that you're his prey

and he'd kindly ask everyone else to find their own, thank you

he hasn't exactly planned the confession yet, but just know it's probably going to be the sweetest and craziest you've ever heard

𝐄𝐩𝐞𝐥 𝐅𝐞𝐥𝐦𝐢𝐞𝐫

first of all he's going to fight you for making him like you so much

second of all he's going to beg for a chance

maybe not in that exact order

Epel is constantly at war with his own emotions and having romance thrown in the mix is. uh. not optimal

not only does it ruin the stoic, strong male persona he's been trying to build, but it's also making him feel all soft and gushy

suddenly he cares about looking nice

(much to Vil's approval)

and now he wants to do nice things for you?

he's gonna bite you

how dare you make him think about kissing and holding hands!

don't you know he's supposed to be above all this romantic stuff? what is he, Rook?!

then, after his initial temper tantrum, he starts coping. hard.

he might be able to stomach the idea of being an item if he gets to wear the pants in the relationship

...yeah, right? right.

if you let him be the man, if you let him protect you...

he might be okay with it!

obviously he starts trying to show off his manly strength (seriously) every time he sees you

starts making comments about how tough practice was on him

will literally never let anyone else carry anything for you ever again

he even provides for you (in payments of apple juice)

obviously this backfires 'cause the second you do something that gives him butterflies he's back to giggling

(you'll have to ease him into the idea of being soft and romantic together, but he'll get there)

but, to his credit, he'd be the first out of all the above to confess

super suddenly and out of nowhere (and he ends up shouting it cause he didn't want to sound chicken) but it's sweet in its own way

[sanchoyo]

the problem with me wanting to write out a whole entire fic with all ocs (like, my tmm next gen fic, or my fangan ronpa series) is that ppl read fic for the established charas and getting into smth new requires SO much more attention and energy imo (which is why /i/ struggle to watch/read new stuff all the time! so I get it!) and I guess maybe not a lot of ppl want to even click oc-only or oc-heavy type of fics so they don't even give it a chance! which again i GET but. but also its like. pspsps this story is fun and good if I do say so myself u want to read abt my ocs sooo bad *enticing u with treats*