#lover boy is like i feel like its one of the best titles in the sense of how well it fits with the story and beau

[shayberri789]

Mmm this will be a long list, prepare yourself

titles in blue are the ones that are like. Equal to AFTG in terms of obsession for me. The others are either ones I find myself returning to, are comfort novels, or were once obsessions for me that I still think fondly of and are worth recommending.

This is so long I spent 2 hours writing this. Mostly scifi/fantasy bc those are my favourite genres.

Beginning with the Series:

In no particular order....

Little Thieves by Margaret Owen Genre: YA Fantasy, slice of romance

Summary: Vanja is the god daughter of Fortune and Death, and one of the most imfamous thief in Boern. Except one day she steals the wrong thing and pisses off ANOTHER little god who curses her for her greed to turn into pearls and rubies. Now she has to fix things with her ex-best friend, avoid a junior detective, maybe save a kingdom, and not die.

Why I am recommending it: Vanja is a gremlin. This has slowburn enemies to friends to lovers. Both of the main characters are demisexual :D and its important to their arc. There's sapphic background romance. A feral shapeshifter with a queer understanding and preference for gender, saying Fuck You to your abusers, and lots of found family. The narration caught me by the throat from the first page - its interesting, and its funny, and the world building is interesting. The story is great. a REALLY good retelling of the Goose Girl fairy tale. This is a series, with the third book releasing soon if it hasn't been already, though I have only read the first book so far (waiting to get my hands on the other ones)

Legends and Lattes by Travis Baldree Genre: Cozy fantasy YA Summary: It's about a retired half-orc adventurer who sets up shop in a new city in order to open teh first ever coffee shop in the country, and the trials it takes to set that up and run. Why I am recommending it: Firstly, Travis is my favourite VA and a good author on top of that. It's SUCH a cozy story, with a sapphic slowburn and found family. It's fun, the worldbuilding is awesome, and it feels like a breath of fresh air. This is a duology, with Bookshops and Bonedust as a prequel that I recommend reading second. It's sapphic and delightful.

Tortall Chronicles by tamora pierce (in chronological order) Genre/summary: Fantasy children's series. if you want harry potter written by an actual feminist minus the bigotry of JKR, try this. Also better written, and enjoyable regardless of age. Do remember most of these were written in the 80s.

Beka Cooper/Provosts Dogs: beka is a member of the Provost's Dogs, the early established police force in Corus City in the kingdom of tortall. She works in the slums of the city, the Lower City, where she was born and raised, and which she loves with all her heart. In teh first book, told through her journal entries, we follow her during the first year of her internship as she learns the ropes and tries to solve a mystery string of robberies, murders and disappearances. Even tho its cops (acab and all that), this handles well the compromises between morality and doing what's right and the law, with a heavy emphasis of 'fuck teh law if it's hurting the people'. Beka is shy, determined, kind, and gifted. It's just a REALLY good story, with a Fun cast, magic, and a sarcastic magical cat

Song of the Lioness (couple hundred years after beka) Alanna wants to be the first lady knight in centuries. Her brother, Thom, wants to be a great sorcerer. unfortunately for them, Alanna is the one being sent to the City of the Gods for finishing school, and Thom to Corus to become a knight. Except Alanna and Thom switch places. Thom goes to the CotG to study magic, and Alanna disguises herself as the boy, Alan, to train to be a knight. The first book follows her years as a page as she keeps up the ruse, trains hard, deals with bullies, and tries to stop a plot to kill one of her best friends, the crown prince Johnathon. Book 2 is her as John's squire, working by his side during war and again, trying not to get caught and also not let John die. Third book is her first years as a knight where she comes to terms with her role as a Paladin of the mother goddess, and she has to train a group of Gifted children to become a shaman after she accidentally kills the tribes last shaman. Its fine tho, because he was a PoS and corrupt. Book4, she heads off on a quest to find a magical gem, prevent a civil war, and fix things between herself and her friends. Note: Weird age gaps/underage, but it's treated with respect and she doesn't do anything w the age gap until she's an adult.

Tempest and Slaughter Concurrent with Alanna I think, only one book out atm Follows Arram Draper, a gifted young mage in at the Carthaki university (in the kingdom across the tea from Tortall). Follows him growing up to be an exceptionally talented mage, surgeon and healer, with an interest in wild magic.

Immortals Quartet (couple decades after Alanna) Not a fan of this one because there's a whole 15-30 year age gap that really only shows up in the last half of the series but wtf. Otherwise, very good! About a girl with a special magical connection to animals. Immortals, ancient immortal beings and monsters who'd been sealed away a millennia ago, are returning to the realm of tortall and Carthak is threatening war, and everything is in chaos. Daine works with famous mage Numair, legendary hero Alanna, and more to unlock the secrets of the Immortals return and end the war

protector of the small (couple years after immortals) Favourite series. Follows kel, the first girl to try to become a knight since King Johnathon made it legal. Except the old training master is a sexist bastard and won't let her in without a trial period. But kel is determined, kind and will not be turned away by her prejudiced classmates, nobles or teachers. This follows her as she trains to become a knight, proving herself and making unshakable friendships and becoming a respected leader and protector of all those the powerful would step on. She's an underdog advocate. Gods I love her

Also by Pierce, but set in a different world, we have the Emelan Chronicles, which is 3 series following the same 4 young mages as they grow up:

circle of magic series follows a group of four, orphaned children with unusual magic. They're taken to the Circle Temple, a temple of priests and mages as they learn to harness their unusual magic and recover from their respective traumas. They become family and survive multiple disasters and threats to their homes. SO good!!

The circle opens set a couple years after CoM, the children have grown up and spread across the world to continue their apprentice-hoods. Along the way, they pick up apprentices of their own and get a first hand understanding of what a headache they were for their mentors

The will of the empress The children reunite as adults, having grown apart. Haven't read this one yet but I trust it to be good. Pierce is a fantastic author

Memoirs of Lady Trent by Marie Brennan Genre: Speculative/biological historical fantasy (Basically victorian england but with dragons) Summary: I made a separate tumblr post about this, I recommend it here! (PLEASE at least check this out, I need more people to read cradle). It's delightful.

Cradle by Will Wight Genre: YA-adult epic/progression fantasy.

Summary: I give a better rec in the post I linked above. Self described by the author as a 'novelisation of a westernised anime/manga' shounen (I think?), but it does not suffer what someone once called "Dragonball Z syndrome", aka its really well balanced and has a solid foundation, and no undermining of its own plot/progression/character powerups/achievements

The Raven Cycle by maggie stiefvater Genre: YA Urban fantasy Summary: If you're in the AFTG fandom, likely you have heard of this as being a "trilogy" series with AFTG and SoC. And there's a reason for that. If you haven't already read it, I cannot recommend it enough. It's my favourite series ever and VERY much character driven, and the plot is beautiful and nonlinear. I cannot give a concise summary. Needless to say this has found family, devoution and all the different kinds of love up the Wazzoo. on the surface, its about a group of kids in rural west virginia trying to find magic, leylines and a dead welsh kind said to be sleeping somewhere on them, who promises a wish if you wake him up. Each person has a different reason to embark on this quest, and each have different, deeply personal journeys and character development. Below the surface, it's about growing up, and healing, and it's about life and death and wonder and magic and whimsy. The narration is SO witty and SO funny and i have read this series LITERALLY over 20 times and I still find new things. I've never seen an official summary for this series that actually gives a good idea of the vibe. Trust me on this you HAVE to read it

(this one is more like 6 recommendations in one lol. I'll be shocked if you haven't heard of at least one of these)

Cosmere by Brandon Sanderson Genre: Adult Fantasy Summary: I'll give individual ones for each book/series. I am obsessed with all of these (but stormlight especially)

Elantris: Standalone Princess Sarene arrives in a new kingdom for her wedding to the Crown Prince Raoden, only to discover her fiance has died, and per a legal loophole in the contract, she is now married to him and the kingdom. Sarene is thrust into a political war zone as she buts head with the warrior ambassador of the religious empire Fjorden who has been tasked with converting the kingdom to shu-something I forget the name, ready for the kingdom to be annexed by the empire. Sarene refuses to let the kingdom fall, for her homeland would be left alone and without allies otherwise

Meanwhile, her fiancé isn't actually dead. He woke up cursed one day to essentially be a zombie with chronic pain and was tossed into a cursed city (Elantris) with other cursed elantrians. now, he's made it his (new) life's purpose to improve the quality of life for the other elantrians, and build a community where they can all be happy again. He has no idea his wife is in town, nor what she's up to

Mistborn: 2 trilogies, one set in regular fantasy era, the other 300 years later in a mmm i wanna say early 1900s euro style fantasy world. Both epic fantasy. First trilogy follows Kelsier - thief extraordinaire, rebellion leader, charismatic asshole and a Mistborn (mistings are ppl who can ingest particular kinds of metals and gain a magical ability from them. Mistborns can eat all 8 and have all 8 abilities. they're rare) - and vin, street urchin, fellow mistborn, and their crew of thieves and rebels as they plot to overthrow God. They don't really consider the consequences

Warbreaker: Another standalone Siri is the youngest, most unimportant princess in her kingdom. She was MEANT to live a pleasant, unimportant life. Except, one day, she's shipped off to the neighboring kingdom Halladren to marry the god-emperor, per the treaty, in place of her older sister Vivenna. Now, she's thrust into a world of colour, politics and gods, and she has to scramble to find a way to stop a war that would threaten to destroy all she loves

Meanwhile, her sister Vivenna, who had grown up resigned to marry the 'evil' zombie emperor, is furious her younger sister was thrown into it instead. She's much prefer NEITHER had to, but if one must it should be the princess raised to do it. So she goes to the kingdom to save her sister. There, she works with a pair of mercenaries to incite a rebellion and other-throw the court of gods. She also has a LOT of growing up to do, and a lot of prejudice to unlearn.

Branderson also has this up free on his website!

The stormlight archive The first era (5 books) has been completed, with the next era expected to start in 2030ish. MONSTER books. I'm talking 300-500k words/1000+ page for each book, plus two novellas. literally the best series I've ever read it's everything you want. It's slow to start but it pays itself off. I cannot describe it you just have to trust me on this one and take a chance. Also there's relationships that could be read as QPRs. I usually recommend it after Warbreaker and/or mistborn, when you'll have faith in branderson as an author, and not just on the word of some random internet stranger.

Tress of the emerald sea standalone if you liked princess diaries, you'll like this. It's about a respectable girl, Tress, who sets out on an adventure to rescue her damsel of a best friend/boy friend from an evil witch. Along the way she befriends eccentric pirates, a magic rat, BECOMES a pirate, and sails on seas of deadly spores that can kill a man with the slightest contact of water. It's also got one really weird guy who's cursed. VERY whimsical and fun fairytale vibe story, with a hilarious narrator to boot. You don't need to read the rest of the cosmere first to understand or enjoy this story, either! But its stuffed with easter-eggs and references, so if you do read it first, I recommend reading it again later after the rest.

Yumi and the nightmare painter Standalone, epic fantasy mixed with urban fantasy Yumi is a Yoki-hijo, a priestess of the spirits. She has a sacred duty as the bridge between humanity and the spirits of the world. Painter is a Nightmare painter. His job is to paint the form of shadowy creatures known as Nightmares to banish them, and keep his city safe. He's also a depressed emo teenager who reminds me of my little brother.

One day, inexplicably, the pair wake up in each other's places, with the other a spectating ghost. They have to carry out each other's lives, and figure out why they've been swapped. And meeting each other is probably the best thing to ever happen to them

has Your Name/Final Fantasy vibes. Also has a fun narrator, and the same cosmere hints as above, but even more accessible to new readers!

The Sunlit Man Standalone (technically) and a lot more scifi/dystopian than the other novels, though I'd call it Science Fantasy (like a mix between skyward (see below) and tlt). Follows Nomad, who lives up to his name by Skipping from planet to planet in the cosmere as he attempts to flee the Night Brigade, a mercenary group determined to torture and kill him for something he once held. He lands on the tiny planet Canicle, with a sun so hot it literally scorches the earth to lava when it hits. The people and flora here survive by constantly running from the sun, existing in perpetual twilight and nightl. The cinderking rules by power and violence, and a small Beacon of rebellion hides in the darkness of a constant storm. Nomad has a history of resisting oppression and helping those who've been put down, but it's been many years since he was that man, he has depression, and worst of all he's cursed and cannot commit an act of violence against another living being. This makes it very difficult to fight the many people trying to kill him.

This is tonally different to many of the other cosmere novels, but is equally epic. I highly recommend reading it between Rhythm of War and Wind and Truth, because Nomad is from roshar and this is the best way imo to get the full impact of Nomad's story, since it has a parallel relationship to the stormlight archive.

Why: Branderson is the best author I've ever read. All the series above are SO unique with AMAZING worldbuilding, plot, characters, themes, ugh EVERYTHING is so good. And they're also connected. 10/10 recommend, but I understand that it is a HUGE investment. Give it a chance, no one has ever regretted it.

Continuing on from branderson, we have the Cytoverse, which is made of the Skyward series and Skyward Flight Novellas.

Skyward Genre: Science fiction, YA with a dash of fantastical elements Summary: The first book follows the strange and silly/dramatic daughter of Chaser, the imfamous coward, who fled the final battle of Alta. Humanity is trapped on a strange, armored planet, constantly underseige by an alien enemy known only as "the krell". For generations, they had to live in small nomadic bands and clans in deep underground caverns, but with the establishment and success of the Defiant Defense Force, humanity has been able to settle down into ancient cities and caverns and put their resources and skill into fighting back the krell, in humanity's last stand for survival.

Spensa faces endless criticism, condesention and assholery from her fellow humans, but she is firm in her insistance that the histories were wrong - he was not a coward, he was teh greatest DDF pilot ever and she will prove them all wrong when she becomes the greatest pilot herself… if people would just give her a chance.

And then she finds the strange, incredible, talking ship. Pity its broken.

Why: It feels like a mix between how to train your dragon, Ender's Game, and those old 'shoot the alien' video/arcade games. The cast are so delightful, the worldbuilding excellent, and the story fun.

Skyward Flight Novellas by Janci Patterson and Brandon Sanderson Genre: Same as above Summary: Written by Patterson, with oversight by branderson, and set during books 2 and 3 of the main skyward series, each novella follows a different important character from the Skyward Flight, giving us insight on what was happening on the human side of teh war while Spensa is out on her adventures in the later series. It's greatly enjoyable, and Janci is better at writing romance imo.

If you enjoyed tlt, you'll enjoy Stormlight and Skyward.

The Locked Tomb Genre: Adult sci-fi fantasy. Has some horror elements technically, along with mystery Summary: each book is tonally, and narratively, quite different, so I will recommend you the first book trusting it will hook you in well enough to finish. The first book follows the PoV of Gideon Nav, an orphan serf of the 9th House of the Undying Emperor, Necrolord supreme's empire. The 9th house is basically a death cult, with all of the skeletons, decaying dark fabric, catholic goth aesthetic you'd expect. Except gideon fucking hates it there and has been trying to get out for YEARS. She's a simple girl who likes swords, girls (titties), jokes, and sunglasses. Her arch nemesis is Harrowhark Nonagesimus, the 17 year old reverent daughter and scion of the 9th house. She is a 5'0 wet rat of a girl and gideon daydreams about drop kidding her off the 9th house planet. They have been in a trauma bonded rivalry since they were children, as the only remaining living children in the 9th house. After another failed escape attempt, Harrow promises Gideon that she will free her from service, with full recommendations to the 2nd house (where Gideon wants to go), if Gideon will pretend to be her cavalier on a voyage to the first house, the once home of the god emperor himself, to answer a call for talented necromancers (and their cavaliers) to undergo training and research to become his right hands: immortal and powerful Lyctors. It starts out great! We're immediately reminded that the 9th house are death cult weirdos, the girls are terribly out of their depths, and Gideon gets adopted by no less than 4 extroverts and both girls get their first friend that wasn't each other in YEARS. Then the first body appears, and its not one anyone intended to be there.

Why: I honestly think it should be included with the soc/aftg/trc trio. Tone and content-wise its like an expert blend of all of them. It's batshit insane, you WILL be screaming "WHAT" for most of the series and the second book is confusing until you finish it/reread it, because it actively gaslights you. But its really fucking good. The storycrafting is DEEPLY intentional and well done, like some of the best writing I've ever read. The writing/narration is SO funny and amusing, there are jokes, memes, pop-culture references stuffed EVERYWHERE and only half of them make you want to scream into a pillow. The foreshadowing is brilliant, the worldbuilding SO interesting, and it does throw you in the deep end with a lot of characters (dw: there's a list at the beginning so you won't get lost!) but they're all SO different and interesting. One of my friends is literally writing his undergrad english lit thesis studying this series. Its like aftg in the sense that reading it will grip you by your brain and never let go. The fandom is fantastic. Highly recommend.

Further notes: I have a personal theory that if you enjoyed aftg/trc/soc/stormlight archive,you'll enjoy tlt. Also, its also about all the different kinds of love. More specifically, its about the horrors of love, what it does to you, how it changes you, and what you'll do and change for it.

Continuing on with scifi!

Murderbot Diaries by martha wells Genre: science fiction, YA, cyber/hopepunk and dystopian (post-late-late-late stage capitalism in space!) Summary: in a complete spin around from the previous series, this is a 12 book long series of novellas following murderbot. Murderbot is a secunit - a machine/human hybrid created to serve as a security guards. Secunits have no agency due to a gov module in their brains that punish them for disobeying company or SecSys orders.

Thing is, murderbot hacked its GovMod 4 years ago. It's rogue, and no one even knows. This is because it found access to the entertainment feed and has been enjoying media in all its free-time since it freed itself, and it REALLY wishes it's human clients - who are actually NICE this time wtf. Stop treating me like a person - would stop making stupid decisions for FIVE MINUTES so it can rewatch episode 259 of the Rise and Fall of Sanctuary moon instead of saving their dumbasses.

The rest of the series follows Murderbot going Rogue and going on a journey of self discovery, with themes of humanity, found family, QPRs, fuck capitalism, fuck Aliens, etc.

Why: It's touching, it's fun, its interesting,its HILARIOUS. Mbot is a yell; A 6A a threat (AAAAAA): an Agender, Aromantic, Asexual Amnesiac Autistic with Anxiety (and depression). Featuring fun world building, SO much queer, qprs, rep and respect towards disabilities and identities, and UGH ITS SO GOOD. Also there are QPRS, and great importance placed on platonic bonds over romance

Now I will recommend some Drew Hayes novels. Highly recommend starting with SP, despite its faults

Super Powereds by Drew Hayes Genre: Superhero science fiction Summary: This is the final rec in the post I linked above (link has more info!). It's about a group of college kids who are enrolled in a secret university program to train heroes. But the main trio had a greater secret even than that: they were once Powereds, people with incredible power and no ability to control it at all, and underwent a shady procedure which miraculously bestowed upon them the ability to control their powers, turning them into Supers, like the rest of their classmates.

Why: this is a lot more grounded than other stories in the genre, I think. It's like bnha if it was good/Horikoshi had coherent worldbuilding and characterisation. It is one of hayes' earlier works, so writing quality wise its not up to the same standards as most of what I've recommended so far, with some… weird terminology around gender (it was originally written in the late oughts/published early 2010s, so uh. to be expected) but is very respectful of gays imo? I can think of one instance that could be classified as homophobia. Its interesting. That said, the plot is really fun and the action and interactions engaging and often funny. Its kinda chunky (a little longer than tlt or mistborn, but not as big as stormlight), but you'll greatly enjoy it. It also as a spinoff novel called corpies which follows one of the more infamous characters from the main series, who got caught up in a scandal when his family-man heroic image was destroyed after he got caught fucking a guy. He's long since accepted himself and developed a strong confidence with his gay identity, but now he needs to restore the public's faith and trust in him after a decade long hiatus from heroism. He accidentally becomes a dad to four heroic rescue young adults, even while his own kids want nothing to do with him for basically abandoning them.

Some other series by Hayes I read which were written later and therefore a massive leap in quality:

Spells, Swords and Stealth Genre: TTRPG/DND esque fantasy Summary: For the people who sit down together with character sheets, minifigs and dice, SSS is just a tabletop RPG game. Its fun, but has no consequence on real life, and it ends when the session does.

For the NPCS, the background characters who live in the world, this is very much real life. it's well known that adventurers play by different rules, because the world interacts differently with them and they have a strange interaction with the world and people around them. But when a band of adventurers fail their CON-save and die in a tavern, the poor NPC's they croaked in front of know that the murderhobo king will have the heads of everyone in the village if these adventurers don't answer his summons. So, they don the adventurers gear and weapons, and prepare to answer those summons themselves and save their village, even though they have no idea what they're doing and its very important no one learns they're not real adventurers.

it's all fun and games until the world starts treating them like real adventurers, and they find a magical artifact that makes things very fucking weird for the poor SSS party's players as they try to follow a similar module.

Why: This is a fun novel which plays well with typical tropes and stereotypes in TTRPGs and flips them on their head. Surprisingly sincere, a refreshing and fun take on these kinds of stories. Its got a cool dual narrative between the NPCS, for whom this is real life, and actual players for whom this is just a game. it pokes fun at the pet peeves in TTRPG (incl: bad players) and is touching and fun. it's got found family, answering the call, and stepping up to responsibility. All the character arcs as well are beautiful.

Villain's Code Genre: Superhero Fiction Summary: Tori Rivas is a villain and a crook. Sure, she can turn into living fire, but she's really dangerous because she's damn clever and innovative. But when a job to break into a billionaire's secret vault goes awry and she's caught, she's suddenly thrown into the pond where big fishes swim, and learning she's just a rookie. if Tori is to survive, she must learn teh ways of the Villain's Guild, how to be a real villain and not just a criminal, and how to abide by the Code and make heroes dance to her tune. By day, she lives with her boring 'uncle' and works a corporate deskjob, trying to build the most boring uninteresting life to anyone who may look two seconds her way. by night, she's the apprentice to one of the most imfamous and deadly villains who ever lived, and undergoes trials with her fellow apprentices to prove they have what it takes. They either come out the other end heroes, cunning and skilled, or they come out in a casket. There's no in between.

And behind the scenes, greater evil stirs to shake up the relationship between heroism and villainy forever.

Why: NOT set in the SP world, this takes on the dynamic and place of heroism in a very different way. It also makes the relationship between heroism and villainy symbiotic and sustainable in its worldbuilding, and makes it easy to root for both sides. Tori is delightful, aroace coded, and resourceful. She's also willful, antagonistic, and hurting deep inside. the cast is delightful, as always. Hayes does a much better job of playing with tropes and characterisations here than he did in SP. There's little I can say that won't have me sounding like a broken record, but this is a very well crafted and fun story, that puts a lot of thought into the worldbuilding and people it would take for sueprhero fiction to actually like. Work. Its great

Renegades by Marissa Meyer Genre: Superhero fiction, YA Summary: Nova Artino is a villain, niece of the supervillain Ace Anarchy, who imfamously brought about the age of anarchy that destroyed society as we once knew it and freed progedies from the discrimination, censure and oppression they had faced from 'normal' people for centuries; but more importantly, he was Nova's hero. He saved her when the Renegade vigilante-heroes didnt. He gave her a home and a new family when the Renegades let thugs kill her parents and her sister. But he died, when the renegades killed him and destroyed the freedom he once sought.

Now, years later, the remaining anarchists/villains live in hiding and squalor underground, while the Renegades have 'restored' society to a new pristine age. A superhero police force known maintains order and justice in Gatlan city, headed by a counsel of the original vigilante-heros/Renegades, and Nova is going to bring them down from the inside.

Why: Same author as the Lunar Chronicles, it's YA but from what I remember, surprisingly well written! I remember enjoying this a lot. I mostly bring it up because it's similar to VC in that the main character is a villain. The romance is really sweet, with a lot of rep, iirc. I haven't been obsessed with it for a while now, but there were a good few years where it (and TLC) were all I could think about.

Now for the standalones:

Project Hail Mary by Andy Weir Genre: Science Fiction Summery: Ryland Grace is your average guy; a middle school science teacher who says shit like "holy moly" and "crap" unironically, is a dork, and a nerd. He's not especially talented in any area outside of science, and he is certainly not qualified to be an astronaut on a last-ditch mission to save humanity from an apocalypse.

But that's what he's doing, because he's one of the few people who can. There's an alien algae eating the sun and its heat, and if he does not find a way to stop it and get that info back to earth soon, then the world is doomed to an enduring ice age that will kill like. Everyone.

And he's the only one who survived the trip, and he does not remember who he is, or why he's there (at first). He's far, far away from home, his mission seems impossible, and there may be more alien life out there.

his mission is impossible, suicidal, and now he has to do it alone.

or does he/it is?

Why: okay despite the summary this story is INCREDIBLY light hearted and has platonic soulmates (my beloved). I would fucking die for Ryland and his deuteragonist. One of my friends (a bio major) recently read it and had a blast. the science holds, but it's super accessible to my dumb ass who barely passed physics and always hated biology. Both of us keep quoting most of the book to each other. its do fun and delightful.

Martian by Andy Weir Genre: science fiction Summary, straight from goodreads: Six days ago, astronaut Mark Watney became one of the first people to walk on Mars.

Now, he’s sure he’ll be the first person to die there.

After a dust storm nearly kills him and forces his crew to evacuate while thinking him dead, Mark finds himself stranded and completely alone with no way to even signal Earth that he’s alive—and even if he could get word out, his supplies would be gone long before a rescue could arrive.

Chances are, though, he won’t have time to starve to death. The damaged machinery, unforgiving environment, or plain-old “human error” are much more likely to kill him first.

But Mark isn’t ready to give up yet. Drawing on his ingenuity, his engineering skills — and a relentless, dogged refusal to quit — he steadfastly confronts one seemingly insurmountable obstacle after the next. Will his resourcefulness be enough to overcome the impossible odds against him?

Why: Like the last Weir Novel above, this is just so much fun. rather than golden retriever energy, Mark has a sense of fatalistic humor that is so in line with our generations humor. He's brilliant and funny, and also a fucking dumbass. Again, the science is really accessible (featuring quotes such as: "Problem is (follow me closely here, the science is pretty complicated), if I cut a hole in the Hab, the air won't stay inside anymore."). Mark is a relatable mood from page one until the very freaking last.

Technically you started it by Lana Wood Johnson Genre: idk, contemporary fiction? Queer YA Summary: Classic mistaken identity story. It's told through the text history between Haley Hancock and Martin Nathaniel Munroe II, except inexplicably there are two martins who share the same damn name (down to the "II") and are cousins, and Haley thinks she's talking to the one she doesn't hate. What starts as a question about a class project rapidly evolves into a dear friendship between the two teenagers, but by the time Martin realizes Haley thinks he's his cousin, it's too late to back out of the rouse now. Haley is the first person to really see Martin for who he is, to understand and offer him kindness for all the 'uncool' parts of himself, and Martin is the first person to really listen to Haley, the first friend who actually puts their money where their mouth is when they say they care about her. But their friendship remains a secret and online, because Haley is too awkward to be friends in real life and Martin doesn't want to ruin what they have, because Drama and rumors swirl around their social circle, and an online friendship feels more real and is just easier. until they can't keep it online anymore.

Why: I've read this so many times I know it almost by heart. It's not high fiction, its a true YA in its simplicity, but its comforting and easy to read. I love Haley and martin's relationship, he's so sweet and she's relatable and neither of them are annoying (to read). Haley is demisexual, and Martin is bi, and their slowburn romance is wonderful.

The Floating Islands by Rachel Neumeier Genre: Fantasy Summery: It's about Trei, a newly orphaned boy from the mainland empire. When his family dies in a tragic disaster, he must search out his distant relatives in more distant lands: The Floating Islands, kept a loft by dragon-magic, and defended by the kajurai - islanders who've taken dragon magic into themselves and soar the skies with wings. Trei is instantly sky-mad, and desperate to be kajurai himself. His fellow acolytes are rightfully weary of him, as the Empire creeps ever closer to their island and the threat of invasion is imminent, but trei is determined to prove himself to the Kajurai.

His cousin, Araene, is the only person who understands his passion. She too is denied her dream because of who she is, but she is determined to seek it out no matter the cost. But when tragedy strikes and she's left adrift in the world, she don's boys clothes and a boy's idenity and throws herself into a world of magic more immediate than that of the dragons, and makes a discovery which may save the islands after all.

The cousins' lives are more intertwined than they know, and the fate of the islands rests upon their shoulders

Why: This is a novel I read several times several years ago, and one which I hold a permanent fondness for. I really enjoyed the magic system and found the worldbuilding interesting. Plus, I am a sucker for people who can fly/have wings and dragon. Sue me.

Hunted by Megan Spooner Genre: Fantasy YA Summary: fairytale retelling of Beauty and the Beast. Not half bad honestly. Yeva's the daughter of a hunter; the only one who hears the call for the world in her veins. When her father goes mad and rushes to the forest to hunt a beast, and goes missing, Yeva ignores her sisters protests and sets out to find him, and finds the Beast instead. Kept captive by the beast in an enchanted forest, she's determined to kill him for revenge.

Except, there seems to be something more going on, beneath the surface.

Why: Most of the YA recs I'm giving do not fall into the typical booktop trappings. They're all well written and not just a tropes with no substance or depth, nor are they vehicles for smut. Hunted is the most 'typically' YA of my recs, but its surprisingly good. It's a retelling of Beauty and the Beast, and well done too. It's actually compelling, and I didn't get annoyed with it at all! Always worth a shot imo. Not an obsession, but I do return to it for a bit of light reading

Spinning Silver by Naomi Novik Genre: Historical Fantasy, Fairytale fantasy Summary: it's about three young women who spend most of the book either trying to escape marriage, or kill their husbands, and you root for them all the way.

to copy the Goodreads summary: Miryem is the daughter and granddaughter of moneylenders, but her father’s inability to collect his debts has left his family on the edge of poverty—until Miryem takes matters into her own hands. Hardening her heart, the young woman sets out to claim what is owed and soon gains a reputation for being able to turn silver into gold.

When an ill-advised boast draws the attention of the king of the Staryk—grim fey creatures who seem more ice than flesh—Miryem’s fate, and that of two kingdoms, will be forever altered. Set an impossible challenge by the nameless king, Miryem unwittingly spins a web that draws in a peasant girl, Wanda, and the unhappy daughter of a local lord who plots to wed his child to the dashing young tsar.

But Tsar Mirnatius is not what he seems. And the secret he hides threatens to consume the lands of humans and Staryk alike. Torn between deadly choices, Miryem and her two unlikely allies embark on a desperate quest that will take them to the limits of sacrifice, power, and love.

Why: I actually really enjoyed this one, more than I enjoyed Novik's other novel uprooted. It is technically YA, but doesn't feel like it. It has an enthralling narration style, and I love the different storylines and characters. There was not a single POV I dreaded reading. All the characters are treated with respect by the narrative/author, in regards to their education, religion, ethnicity and place in society. It's great

Okay I have been here for ages and my hands are cold. Hope one of these are of interest to you! They're more generic/taken from another rec post I made for someone else, because I don't know what about AFTG caught your interest.

Also, as an honourable mention: The Heaven's Vault game by Inkle on steam is great. It's a story-focused game, and you explore a (beautiful) nebula and visit once-inhabited moons/astroids to collect artifacts and piece together the story of the ancient past. The puzzle system is based around translating the Ancient language, and its so fun. I'm a linguistics major so this has me in a death grip. I also bought the books (same title, subtitled The Loop and the Vault by Jon Ingold) which is a novellisation of the game, and really good! I recommend it :)

please tell me about yalls hyperfixations aside from aftg pls ramble to me i need more media to obsess over and something new to get into i'm so bored and will check anything out

[dallonwrites]

the fun thing about my silly little book series' titles is until heaven is by far my favourite title i've ever had for a novel both sonically and thematically and revelations, revelations is my least favourite. and then lover boy is just there being lover boy

[suugarbabe]

the lovely amazing darling @crescenthistory tagged me a little bit ago about doing the 12 fics for 12 months. i had to really ponder so it took me a moment; i apologize

all fics are character x reader

but here they are 🥰:

just to stop the feeling; theodore nott - @musingsofahufflepuff ;; when i say that i cannot express enough how much i absolutely adore and love this fic. there's a little bit of everything for the sb trio person in here; Enzo being a smart ass, Mattheo being a tender friend, Theo discovering himself. my hubs really did an amazingly fantastic job. please scour his master list I'm begging.

come back, be here; sirius black - @ellecdc ;; this fic is the single most important fic that got me truly hooked on reading more marauders. there's angst, there yearning, there's hurt (and then there's comfort). eight parts overall, this link is to part one. elle is quite amazing.

its nice to have a friend; remus lupin - @crescenthistory ;; this is childhood best friends to lovers with my favorite marauder boy always...and fuck if i'm not a sucker for that.

midnight strolls and nosy portraits; sirius black - @iamgonnagetyouback ;; adorable adorable sirius black fluff, if you're looking for a way to make me obsessed with something, sirius + being a sweetie = sab's brain melting.

divination; james potter - @ikkyfics ;; you and james have (you guessed it) divination class together and get a verrrry interesting reading

dealer!remus x shy reader; remus lupin - @inkdrinkerworld ;; if there's one thing sab loves, it's remus who has a special affinity for you based on what makes you different than the rest. uuuugh love this man. there's two parts to this as well.

everything is blue; barty crouch junior - @unconventional-lawnchair ;; this is barty x potter!reader. if you've paid attention to my blog at all over the last, i'd say, four months, i'm obsessed with barty. everything barty. i need barty. (there's a sort of second bit to this too)

checked box; sirius black - @marauder-misprint ;; sirius is seemingly going through a list of sorts, confusions spread of whether you should be on it.

first kiss; remus lupin - @latenightreadingpdf ;; title says it all, and i'm obsesssseeddd

my darling elle's hockey!au ;; i've linked her remus master list here. if you like hockey (or just thing the rough and tumble of hockey boys are sexy asf [valid]) then i implore you to explore this.

if i kiss you i'm sorry; james potter - @astonishment ;; the first fic i read by my darling darling mal. strangers-esque to lovers. many parts. as always she is just captivating a writer. i encouraged you to explore all her other works as well (you're losing me/remus lupin/james potter has me in a chokehold as well)

desperately needed; mattheo riddle - @musingsofahufflepuff ;; mmmm yes yes yes yes yes i love this, nothing quite like a lil bit o bump and grinding. my favorite activity with mattheo

[btsgotjams27]

things you didn't say | jjk

summary: with the recent interactions with jungkook, you try to downplay your feelings, but your friends encourage you to acknowledge your past and move forward.

✨ title: things you didn't say | tydk couple ✨ pairing: jungkook x f!reader ✨ genre/au: angst | ex-best friends to friends/lovers(?) ✨ rating: R/18+ | ✨ word count: 7.3k | ✨ playlist ✨ warnings: minor language, lana threatens oc with a fork, drinking, game of truth or dare, confessions, kissing ✨ a/n: hii--i'm sorry i've been a bit MIA in regards to writing. it's been such a struggle to get anything written. i've been thinking a lot about these two and i hope this last part gives us all some kind of resolution. enjoy. (and there's a small nod to something that'll happen in a different jk wip i'm working on hehe). and if you haven't read part one or two, please do so before reading this part.

✨ read part one | read part two ✨

The clock is nearly midnight, and you’re not ready for the magic to disappear.

All night, you’ve kept your heart at bay, questioning every move and word being spoken. Only you can see it, but a dark cloud is looming over you. Doubts linger like a predator waiting to pounce and take its prey. You want to avoid getting it wrong or being let down.

And your heart is the ultimate betrayer, but it doesn’t lie.

You’re caught up in sentimental memories from the past. His nose scrunches and boisterous cackles are reminiscent of the boy you remember. Hanging out and reliving past adventures felt like no time had passed, yet life updates from then to now made him feel like a stranger.

Giggles and claps, along with snorts and dribbles of wine, glide down the side of your mouth. The third wine bottle is on its way to being destroyed by the pair of you.

He’s careful to avoid the subject of Josie, for which you are grateful. If you could be honest, you would ask him why he was still with her and what he saw in her. But it’s not your place, nor are you in the position to pry.

Your eyes fall on the plants sitting on the corner shelf in the dining area—an array of pothos, snake, and rubber plants. They’re your typical plants, but it’s the planters that they’re sitting in that make you smile. The planters have stubby arms and legs with smiley faces.

Jungkook follows your gaze. “What are we looking at?”

You point to the planters. “Those little guys. They’re cute.”

“Thanks,” Jungkook says. “I made them.”

“The planters or the plants?”

He swirls his wine glass, letting out a small laugh. “The planters.”

“You made those planters?” You stand, walking over to them. 

“When I get bored, I try new creative outlets and ceramics was one of them,” he says, taking a sip of wine.

“Wow, you have a knack for things like that, huh?” You pick up a planter, inspecting it before setting it down. “You could open up your own Etsy shop or something. People would buy these in a heartbeat.”

“Eh, I suppose. I just like doing things with my hands. It makes me feel useful.” Jungkook shrugs. He watches your every move as you continue eyeing the different ceramic pieces he’s made: vases, candleholders, etc. “Do you think people would buy the things I make?”

You lift a coiled vase, turning to him. “Are you kidding me? People would eat this shit up. Once your pieces sell like hotcakes on Etsy, Urban Outfitters will slide in your DMs.” You’re not surprised Jungkook easily excelled at something like ceramics. He’s always been talented at anything he picks up.

“And you were good at anything creative when we were in school—art class, wood shop. I would’ve failed wood shop if you didn’t help me finish my project.”

“Yeah, your birdhouse was fucking terrible.”

You scoff, walking toward him, playfully shoving his shoulder. “It wasn’t that bad.”

He deadpans. “Even birds would avoid your birdhouse.”

“Shut up! I tried my hardest.”

“Didn’t try hard enough,” he teases, his eyes crinkling at the corners with a grin on his face.

The pair of you continue to bicker about nothing, but the constant buzzes of notifications from his phone are hard to ignore. You’d catch Jungkook peering, tapping his fingers, debating if he should reply.

You sip from the bottle of dessert wine, you find it sweet and refreshing on your lips. “If you need to get that, then don’t let me stop you.” 

Jungkook lifts his phone. “Nah—it’s nothing,” he protests before his phone vibrates in his hand. He glances at the illuminated screen and he finally picks it up. “Sorry, let me answer this. I’ll be right back.”

He hurries out of the kitchen and into the darkened living room. You can only hear Jungkook’s stern, hushed voice, but you can’t make anything out. His change in demeanor hints at one person, and it’s Josie. Which meant it was your cue to leave. You’ve overstayed your welcome.

You raise your wine glass, gulping the golden honey peach Moscato. Thank goodness they’re easy to guzzle. A drop runs down the side of your mouth, and you swipe it away as Jungkook walks back in.

“I’m so sorry about that.”

“Hmm? Oh—don’t worry about it. I, um, I’ve probably overstayed my welcome, so I should get going.”

“What? No, stay. We have to finish our Moscato.”

A nervous chuckle leaves your lips as you contemplate his proposition. There’s a tug in your heart, wanting to stay into the early hours of the morning, but there’s your brain telling you to take it slow and go home.

“I wish I could stay, but I should head home. I have a load of laundry to fold and sadly, it won’t fold itself.” You stand up from the bar chair, feeling a bit wobbly on your feet. Jungkook rushes to your side, gripping your waist, but you catch yourself by holding onto the counter.

“You can’t hold your liquor?” He asks with a wide grin, pulling you upright.

Clearing your throat and flattening down your jeans, you spit out, “Ha-ha. I can hold my liquor just fine. I merely tripped.”

Jungkook chuckles. “You’re a terrible liar—see, I still remember that.”

You gasp sharply, with a hand over your chest. “I’m surprised that big ‘ol head of yours can remember anything. I thought it was only filled with games and girls.” Sticking out your tongue, you conk him on the head with your knuckles.

“Ow.” He rubs the spot as if you had knocked him with a bat.

Taking out your phone from your pocket, you pull up Uber.

“Let me take you home, at least.”

You give him a look, slowly blinking your eyes at the devilishly handsome friend. Could you even call him a friend again? Maybe it was too early for that.

“Did you forget that we both had too much to drink tonight? So, you shouldn’t be driving me. It’s fine, Kook. I’ll get an Uber.”

Jungkook sighs, knowing he can’t convince you otherwise. “Fine. I’ll wait with you outside until it gets here.”

“Well, it’s not like I can stop you.”

The pair of you are sitting on his front steps, watching cars drive by and cats strolling through the neighborhood. His place is in a newer part of town, one that was built while you were away. It’s familiar and odd, just like you and Jungkook. As much as you want to forget the past and move on, there’s a part of you holding onto what the two of you had. Would you ever become best friends again? Would you even consider letting him be a part of your life? Those were questions for another time, but it felt like you had your best friend back, even if it was just for tonight.

As the alcohol in your system dwindles, the brain fog becomes clearer, along with your hearing. A nudge from Jungkook makes you come back to reality. “Hmm?”

“I asked, ‘Do you still go stargazing’?” He chuckles, shaking his head.

“Yeah, I do, but the spot I went to during college isn’t as good as the one we used to go to.”

Jungkook hums, avoiding your gaze as he picks up a small pebble from the ground. “We should go there sometime,” he mumbles under his breath. He continues toying with the pebble before throwing it into the bushes.

You’re trying to suppress a smile and swat away the butterflies growing in your stomach. It’s dumb to think things could go back to the way they were. It’s unrealistic and you don’t want to get hurt again.

Turning toward him, you want to set the record straight. “Let’s um, take this whole friendship thing slow, Kook. Dinner was great. It was nice talking to you again, but you do understand where I’m coming from, right?”

He nibbles on his bottom lip and nods. “I’ll follow your lead.”

You check your phone again. The Uber is two minutes away. As you click it off, you turn and see Jungkook staring. Something is brewing behind those starry eyes. With a raised brow, you ask, “What?”

“Can I call or text you sometime?”

“Just don’t, uh, go texting me all day and night. Your girlfriend might get jealous. Might even put a bounty on my head,” you tease, reaching to pull his black CK cap over his face.

He takes his cap off, carding his hand through his hair before placing it back on his head. As you’re immersed in your phone and looking up at the street for your Uber, Jungkook silently observes you like has for the past few years. Some might say it’s a red flag, but how else was he supposed to know if you were happy? That’s all he’s ever wanted—for you to be happy, loved, and have all your dreams come true, even though he wasn’t there to cheer you on. For seven years, he has been tormented by what he did, and he didn't want to jeopardize any possibility of any kind of relationship with you. It doesn’t even have to be like before, just as long as the two of you are on speaking terms. He could live with that.

A dark sedan pulls up alongside the pair of you. You grab the door handle, pause for a moment, then turn back to Jungkook. “We’ll talk soon?” He raises both eyebrows and hums softly, giving a thin smile. “Bye, Kook.”

Two weeks passed, and there was no text or call from Jungkook. Plenty of thoughts ran through your mind, the number one being Josie had found out about your little dinner and locked him in a basement, cutting off all contact with the outside world—especially if it was with you.

But you’re a big girl. Why should you be waiting around to hear from him, anyway?

If there’s one thing you hate about adulting, it’s cooking. You missed the days when you were in your angsty teen phase, headphones in, and hating the world, then your parents would yell ‘Dinner’s ready’. And as much as you missed home-cooked meals, you loved that your parents were off gallivanting around the world, living their retirement dreams. One day that’ll be you, living off your retirement and eating out 24/7, but for now, there’s a decision to be made about what will go in your salad for the week.

Cucumbers.

Strolling in the veggie section, your eyes scan for the green vegetables before landing on them. You stood debating on which one to get. Why are there so many varieties? But according to Google, Persian cucumbers go great in salads.

As you grabbed a second cucumber, you looked up to see the man who betrayed your trust. And no—it wasn’t Jungkook. It was his roommate, Jimin, aka ‘the trickster’.

With a stomp in your step and a cucumber in your hand, you march over to him, striking him on the shoulder with it.

“Ow!” Jimin exclaims, rubbing his shoulder as he turns around. His brows furrowed, lips in a full pout when he finds you standing behind him. “What the hell?” He looks to see the weapon in your hand. “Did you just hit me with a cucumber?” You hum. “Why’d you do that?”

Tossing the cucumber in your basket and crossing your arms, you huff out, “Because you deserved it!”

“Deserve what?”

You roll your eyes at the not-so-innocent man. Was he trying to play Cupid or something with you and Jungkook?…Because his stupid plan kind of worked. You truly had a great time at dinner, and it was nostalgic, just like how things used to be.

“Mmhm. Count your days, Park,” you quip, turning around to head in the other direction. Jimin’s calling after you to wait for him, but you keep on walking.

As he catches up, standing beside you, he nudges your arm. “Oh, come on. I was just trying to help a friend out,” he finally admits.

“Well, don’t.”

Jimin strides in front of you, stopping you in your tracks. “Hey—” You attempt to go around him, but he’s unrelenting. “Just hear me out, okay?” You sigh, waving for him to continue. “I’m sorry I ambushed you, but it was the only way you’d hang out with Jungkook. I know the two of you had shit go down in the past, and I just wanted to help you both move on to being friends again.”

“Why does it matter to you?”

“Because,” he pauses and straightens his back with his chin up. “I like you and I like Jungkook, and who wouldn’t want to see their friends be happy, hmm?”

Jungkook’s laughter echoed in your mind. You knew it was dumb to miss something as simple as a laugh, but you had heard it for so many years, and then it stopped for a long time. It felt nice to have a piece of an old friend back.

Jimin gives you a look and a grin sweeps across his face. There’s a satisfaction behind that grin and you wish you could wipe off.

“You’re lucky you’re cute, Park Jimin,” you say, stepping off to the side as a customer rolls by with their cart through the two of you.

He laughs, showing off his pearly whites. “I should check out and head off—don’t want you to start getting any ideas and start a food fight here in the grocery store.”

“Yeah, you should run.” You pretend to grab the cucumber and watch him run off to self-checkout.

A buzz from your back pocket alerts you of a notification and, to your surprise, it’s a text from Jungkook. It looks like he hadn’t forgotten about you.

Jungkook 1:34 PM Hey. I’m throwing a small dinner for Jimin’s birthday on Friday at 7 pm. Say you’ll come.

You 1:35 PM Define small.

Incoming Call Jungkook

“If I come and it’s a big party like last time, then count me out.”

“Hello to you, too.”

“Right—hey. No, but seriously. I’m not a big crowd kinda gal.”

“Including me and you, there would only be six people. That’s not a lot, right?”

It’s not, but you’ll have to save your social battery for the dinner party.

“No, yeah, that’s fine.”

“And don’t worry, you know everyone—Lana’s going too.”

The big question is: will Josie be there?

A beat passes and you realize you’re standing in the middle of an aisle, probably blocking someone’s way.

Jungkook’s voice comes through your phone, calling your name a few times. “Hello? Hey. Are you still there?”

You turn to make sure no one’s around. “Yeah, sorry. I’m still here. Is, um, ‘who-shall-not-be-named’ coming?” You ask, nibbling on the inside of your cheek. It’s a name for fuck’s sake, but you can’t bring yourself to say it.

He chuckles at your subtle attempt to avoid the Josie topic. “I can promise you that she’s not coming. Is that why you’re hesitant to say yes?”

“Pfft–what! No!” you blurt out, lying through your teeth. Truth be told—yeah, it is. You don’t want a repeat of Jimin’s party.

You clear your throat, “Anyway, yeah, I’ll come. Count me in.”

“Cool! See you on Friday.”

“Can I bring anything?”

“Nope–just yourself. Oh, and it’s a surprise, so don’t say anything to Jimin.”

“‘Kay…sounds good. I’ll see you Friday.”

“Can’t wait to see you,” he said with enthusiasm before hanging up.

As you’re mixing the salad, you’re staring absent-mindedly at the abstract painting that’s framed on your wall because those five words rang in your ears on the drive home.

You mumbled those words in different tones, trying to make sense of the innocent expression. It’s completely normal for Jungkook to be excited. He hasn’t seen/hung out/talked to you in almost seven years. Yeah, that’s it—at least it’s what you’re telling yourself.

Lana waves her hand in your face. “Um, hello! I don’t think you can mix the salad anymore!”

Looking down, a few springs of leaves have been tossed out of the bowl and onto the counter. Oops. You pick them up, throwing them in the garbage bin. “Sorry—I was distracted.”

“Clearly.”

As you push the bowl aside, your focus is on the unopened bottle of wine.

“Are you going to tell me what’s distracting you, or should I wait until the wine settles in?”

“You can wait until the wine settles in. It’ll give me time to forget about it.”

Lana picks up a fork, threatening you with it. “I swear to god if you don’t tell me—”

“Okay, okay. The other day, Jungkook called to invite me to Jimin’s dinner party.” Lana narrows her eyes and hums, intently listening. “At the end of our conversation, he said, ‘Can’t wait to see you’, and he seemed excited.”

She nods her head, waiting for the rest of the story, but you don’t say anything else. “That’s it? God–that’s so boring. I thought you guys kissed or something.”

“Lana!” you cry out, almost knocking over the wine bottle.

“What? I thought he would’ve made his move by now.”

You roll your eyes. “There’s no move to make. He’s with Josie, remember?”

“Josie Schmosie—she’s old news, but you,” she points and grins, “You’re back and here to fuck things up,” she claps with a gleeful smile.

“Oh, will you stop it? I’m not back to do anything—and what the hell, Lana? You’re not helping!”

Lana chortles, covering her mouth. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m sure what Jungkook said to you is just a simple expression of how much he can’t wait to see you and get you underneath his sheets.”

You sigh, shaking your head. “I don’t even know why I bothered you with this.”

“Okay, I’ll stop. I promise—just kidding. Can I ask one more thing?” You wave your hand for her to continue. “You’re telling me you don’t even want to revel in the idea of the two of you being something more than just friends?”

The iciness of the tiled counter becomes apparent underneath your fingers, and you’re faced with a question you never wanted to answer—aloud, at least. Considering that he’s tried breaking up with Josie multiple times, but somehow is still with her, you’re unsure what will push Jungkook to cut off the head of the snake.

You hate that Jeon Jungkook has been—scratch that—is your Roman empire. He’s the one thing you’ve come back to even when you didn’t want to. It’s the same three questions you’ve had: Is he okay, is he happy, does he miss you too?

And if you’re completely honest, the answer is yes. Of course, you’ve reveled in the idea of you and him.

“I don’t know, Lana. I mean yes—the thought has crossed my mind. I’ve liked him since senior year, but it takes two to tango, and Jungkook can’t do that right now. Besides, I won’t wait around for him to come to his senses.”

Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me, that’s the expression, isn’t it?

You can’t imagine going through another heartbreak from the same boy.

Things happen in life that don’t make sense.

Especially for the price of a pair of earrings, you’re currently looking to purchase as Jimin’s birthday present. The sales associate senses your hesitation and brings out a similar pair that’s on sale.

“Ah—that’s more like it. I’ll take those and do you still provide gift wrapping?” you ask, looking at the sign you saw on the way in.

“Yes, we do. Let me go into the back and wrap it up for you.”

The associate disappears through the back door, probably to talk shit about you to their co-workers, but hey–a girl has to save money where she can. It’s a fragile economy.

You roam, looking through the display cases of bracelets, rings, and watches. A gold Casio watch catches your eye–it looks like one Jungkook used to wear. He treasured the vintage-looking watch because it was his father’s. Come to think of it, you haven’t seen him with it when you saw him. Maybe he lost it or replaced it with something else.

Either way, you continue eyeing pieces of jewelry you’ll never purchase for yourself, and it’s when you look up to catch a glimpse of a girl you recognize. But it’s the man marking her neck that isn’t your ex-best friend. You’ve locked eyes with which she-who-must-not-be-named, and maybe it’s not too late to pretend you didn’t see her.

The sales associate returns the wrapped gift along with your credit card. You quickly thank her, looping your arm through the gift bag. Your eyes scan everything in view to see if the coast is clear. There’s no sign of your enemy, so you dart out of the store only to find Josie and this mystery man looking at the window display at the neighboring boutique.

Fuck, just go on your way and don’t engage. Don’t engage! You say to yourself, swiftly walking past them.

You’re busy berating yourself to hear someone calling your name. Stopping in your tracks, you sigh, waiting for Josie to catch up.

“Hey!” Josie chirps like the two of you are friendly.

“Hi…” you say glumly, with furrowed eyebrows. She’s never been nice to you before, so why should you start now?

“Can you not tell Jungkook what you saw?”

You tut, blinking your eyes at her like you owe her a favor. “Look Josie—what you do doesn’t concern me, okay?” you say, walking past her. It’s been a few weeks since you last saw her and she’s cheating on Jungkook with some guy? God, if only you could smack him upside the head right now—Josie too!

You’re a few steps ahead before you stop in your tracks and turn, walking back to her. You huff, “Tell me one thing. If you’re off with some guy behind Jungkook’s back. Why are you still stringing him along, then?”

Josie looks at you, ready to answer, but you raise your hand, stopping her. “Forget I asked. It’s none of my business.”

As you walk off again, there’s a revolting feeling in the pit of your stomach having to keep this to yourself. Jungkook deserves to know the kind of person Josie is, but it’s not your place to say anything. You’re not his best friend anymore. Honestly, you’re unsure what the two of you are and sometimes, there are some things you just shouldn’t say.

Whenever you think about seeing Josie and that mystery man, it makes you want to gag, and throw something at the wall, but mainly at her. Who knows how long she’s been cheating on Jungkook? You tossed and turned in bed, debating whether you should say something to him.

The dinner party is tonight, and if you happen to be alone with him and the Josie topic comes about, then you’ll mention it.

Another thought crosses your mind, what if he thinks you’re making this up because you’re jealous of Josie? Ah, fuck. Either way, you’ll turn out to be the bad guy, right? You’ll either break his heart or you’ll sound like a jealous person.

You don’t want to ruin whatever the two of you have, because you’ve missed the comfort of an old friend and you don’t want to lose it again.

Even though you know the code, you don’t press the four digits. Instead, you knock, waiting for someone to open the door.

“Hey!” Jungkook says, eyes dropping to your hands. “I said you didn’t have to bring anything.” He takes a step back, letting you through, and grabbing the box of Soju.

“I know, but Lana always says, ‘Don’t go anywhere empty-handed’,” you say, flashing a small smile.

“Ah, well, the Soju will go great with tonight’s menu.”

The aroma from Jungkook’s cooking is immaculate. You can almost taste the different dishes he’s prepared.

“Oh my god, it smells so good–like how your mom used to make food for us all the time.” You walk over to the dinner table, displayed with grilled meat, japchae, tteokbokki, buddaejjigae, and a plethora of banchan. “How is your mom? I miss her and her cooking.”

Jungkook chuckles softly. “She’s doing great. Her cooking, though? Not so much. It’s become too salty for my taste—Don’t tell her I told you that.”

You rub your hands together. “Oh, you bet that’s the first thing I’ll say after giving her a hug.”

“Don’t! She’ll disown me. She already hates that I’m a better cook than her,” Jungkook says, opening the box of Soju.

“You should become a private chef or something.”

He opens the refrigerator door, placing the Soju to chill. “Nah—I’ll just cook at home. I’m still learning, testing the waters, y’know?”

“I hate you.”

His eyes perk up with concern. “What did I do this time?”

“You’re good at everything you do—it’s unfair to the rest of us peasants.”

Jungkook relaxes at your answer, thinking he did something wrong again.

Placing the last Soju bottle in the fridge, he turns back, scanning you from head to toe. You’re dressed in an oversized Linkin Park band tee and jeans. He recognizes the shirt, the one you wore religiously during your emo teenage years.

“What? Is there something on my face?” you ask, touching your cheeks.

He shakes his head no and clears his throat. “I, um, wanted to talk to you...about something.”

“Oh?” Your eyes and ears perk up, but you’re interrupted by a commotion coming from the front door.

“The birthday boy is coming! Hide!” Lana says in a hushed tone. She rushes over to you, crouching down behind the counter, pulling you down with her. You chuckle, shaking your head.

With the front door open, Jungkook’s other roommate, Namjoon, walks in first–hand in hand with his girlfriend, and then following is the birthday boy.

Lana peers above the chairs to see if they’ve come in. “Surprise!” She cries out. Everyone’s ears must be ringing at this point.

Jimin gives a half-smile along with a chuckle. “Lana, you ran past us in the driveway.”

Her mouth turns into a cheesy smile. “You caught me. Sorry, I kind of ruined the surprise.”

“Happy birthday Jimin,” you say, walking over to him, arms out for a hug.

“I’m glad to see you and Kook have made up,” Jimin utters. “He needs someone like you around.” He pulls back, squeezing your arms before letting you go.

Namjoon and his girlfriend, Nora, greet you and Jungkook and then take a seat at the dinner table.

You look at Jungkook. “We’ll talk later?”

He hums in agreement. “Yeah, later.”

You’ve missed this—hanging out with old friends. It’s fun to be around people who you’ve known for a long time. You remember Namjoon being a senior when you were a freshman and the stories you’d hear about him—prom king, valedictorian; he did it all when he was in school. And Nora was the perfect woman for him. They’re both working toward their doctorate in philosophy. Their IQs were the equivalent of yours, Lana, Jimin, and Jungkook’s combined.

“Wow, I feel unqualified to be sitting at this table,” you say jokingly. Being an HR specialist was never the plan, but you’ve come to enjoy your job because you like to think you’re a good judge of character when it comes to hiring.

“Let’s stop talking about work, and have some fun! After all, it is Jimin’s birthday. How about a game of Truth or Dare?” Nora asks, looking around the dining table to get some confirmation. “I need verbal consent, please.”

Everyone glances at each other, awaiting answers. There are various responses, and everyone agrees to play.

Nora claps with a joyful squeal. “Okay, Jimin gets to ask first since it’s his birthday. Choose your victim, and anything’s fair game!”

There’s a groan from you and Jungkook. You have a feeling this night will become interesting.

Jimin rubs his hands together and then points to each person. “Eeny, meeny, miny, moe…” He continues the rhyme, and you know he’s itching to choose you or Jungkook, and his finger lands on Jungkook.

“Oh-ho-ho. Please pick dare, or I’ll make you answer something you don’t want to,” he says, playfully sticking out his tongue.

Jungkook narrows his eyes at his devilish roommate. “Don’t test me, Park. I can make your life a living hell, too.”

“Ah yes, I’d like to see you try.”

Your heart’s racing, and your hands are sweaty while gripping the chair’s armrest. Jimin has always been sneaky, and you’re sure he’ll make Jungkook kiss you.

Everyone’s waiting for Jungkook’s answer. He groans before replying, “Fine. Dare.”

Both Lana and Nora let out muffled squeals while you’re holding your breath.

“I dare you…to say something dirty to ____.” Jimin grins from ear to ear, staring at you.

You knew Jimin would be unrelenting when it came to you and Jungkook.

Turning to Jungkook, you say, “If you’re uncomfortable, don’t do it. It’s just a dumb game.”

“Hey! Nora said anything’s fair game and my dare is completely harmless. I could’ve asked you to do something else, but I didn’t,” Jimin refutes.

“It’s fine,” Jungkook says with a scowl. Turning to you, he leans over. His breath is warm against your ear, goosebumps are trickling on your skin, and your hair is standing on its end. He whispers, “You look so pretty—wish I could do this forever.”

“Hey, hey, hey! You’re supposed to say it aloud for everyone to hear,” Jimin protests.

You visibly gulp, returning to a straightened position in your chair. The ten words he said shouldn’t affect you, but it does. The room has grown warmer and you’re practically melting like butter in a hot pan. It’s just a silly game and you’re so over Jimin and his antics.

“Your dare was ‘to say something dirty to ___’. You didn’t specify if it was a whisper or if I had to shout it from the rooftop,” Jungkook chirps, quickly glancing in your direction to make sure you’re okay.

Jimin glares at Jungkook with a blaze of a thousand suns. “It’s implied that you say it out loud so everyone can hear.”

Lana elbows Jungkook. “What did you say? How dirty was it? Like, give us a rating, PG-13, R, NC-17?” He doesn’t answer her, but she looks at you, pointing her fingers to her eyes and then back to you, indicating that you’ll tell her later.

“I’ll let it go this time, but from now on, no whispering, and everyone has to hear what everyone says,” Jimin demands, awaiting confirmation from the group. “Okay, Jungkook, it’s your turn.”

He turns to Lana and bluntly asks, “Would you ever sleep with Jimin?” Jungkook peers at Jimin because he knows that Jimin’s had a crush on Lana since high school.

Lana’s mouth twists before answering, “Yeah, I guess.”

Jimin scoffs, offended by her response. “You guess? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know if you’re any good in bed!”

“And I don’t know if you’re any good in bed!” he chirps back.

“Please—I’ll be the best sex you’ll ever have,” she jeers, crossing her arms.

Jimin stands. “Oh yeah? Prove it.” He retorts, raising his chin in defense.

Everyone ‘oohs’, staring at the two like they’re in a stand-off.

“Prove it! Prove it!” Nora urges, pounding her fists on the table.

Namjoon fakes a laugh, muffling his girlfriend’s pounding. “I’m sorry. She’s had too much to drink. Don’t listen to her.”

Jimin leans forward, hands on the table. “Yeah…prove it.” He raises an eyebrow, wondering if Lana will back down or take on the challenge.

“Right now?” She tilts her head, scanning him from head to toe.

He shrugs. “Mm, what a shame. I guess you’ll never be able to prove it,” he says with a tut.

The chair legs squeak when Lana pushes herself to stand. “When’s the last time you got tested?”

“A month ago,” Jimin quickly replies like no one else is in the room. “I’m clean. You?”

“I’m clean too. You got condoms?”

You sink in your chair, wiping your face, watching these two go off on each other. Honestly, you can’t believe you’re witnessing this.

“Got a whole box ready for you.”

Lana marches over to Jimin, grabbing his hand. “Well, come on birthday boy.”

Your mouth drops, watching the two-run upstairs. “They’re not gonna fuck, are they?” Lana has been in a dry spell for the last year, so you don’t blame her for wanting to get laid.

“Yeah, I think they are,” Jungkook answers. “Yah—” he turns to yell toward Jimin’s room. “Keep it down, will ya?”

The rest of you continue the game, but they’re just questions to get to know each other.

“Jungkook, if there’s one thing you could take back. What would it be?”

He looks in your direction, then plays with his Soju glass, spinning it a few times. You’re biting the inside of your cheek, eyes bouncing from him and then to Nora and Namjoon.

“Um, I’d go back to the day I broke ___’s heart—take everything back.”

The couple looks at each other, forcing a fake laugh. “Well, I can sense the tension between our friends here,” Nora says. “Joonie, baby, didn’t you wanna show me that thing in your room?”

Namjoon’s eyebrows furrow. “What thing?”

Nora stands, tugging his hand, and drags him down the hallway to his room. You can hear the two bickering before the door closes.

You’re silent. Unsure of what to say. You want to move forward, but the past keeps haunting you. Will it always be like this with you and Jungkook? And certainly, there are things you didn’t say that you should say now, but what’s the point?

“We should clean up,” you say, picking up a few plates to stack them. Jungkook follows your lead, helps clear the table, and walks over to set them in the sink.

Turning on the faucet, you rinse off the plates. Jungkook leans back against the kitchen island, eyes scanning over you.

“I meant what I said earlier.”

You close your eyes, then breathe out a sigh. Looking at the boy who used to be your best friend. His eyes hold the galaxy and you get easily lost in them. You’re an explorer longing to find the next big discovery. It’s right in front of you, but at a moment’s notice, you might lose him like you did before.

“Kook…we were kids back then, and you can’t change the past.” You continue to wash the dishes, but it’s hard to focus when he’s near.

Jungkook reaches to turn off the water, gently squeezing your arm to look at him. “Yeah, I know, but I can try to fix it now, right?”

Your hands grip onto the sink, your eyes focused on the water dripping from the spout. You fixate on Jungkook’s words. How can he reconcile a friendship he tore apart? And for what? A girl?

He calls your name, breaking your focus. “Talk to me.”

There’s a tightness in your chest as you turn to him. “Fix it? I don’t want you to fix it.”

“O-kay…then tell me what you want and I’ll do it.”

If it was only that easy.

You close the distance between you, looking at him. “What do I want?” He hums. “I want you to be broken. Wrecked—just like how I was. It took me years to get over you—our friendship. I hate it, Jungkook.”

“I hate what I did to you—”

“No,” you say, shaking your head. “You don’t understand, Kook.” Your heart is aching—like someone reached in, squeezing it as hard as they can. 

“Then explain.”

Your eyes meet his. “You. Own. Me,” you say, your index finger pressing into his chest with each word. “These last few weeks have been excruciating. I don’t know who I am when I’m around you. No matter how hard I try to convince myself that I’ve moved on. You’ll always be the one thing that I’ll never be over.”

Your heart is pounding, and every inch of your body is burning to the touch. You didn’t think anyone could ever make you this livid. But as much as you want to hate him, moving back home simply confirms everything you’ve been attempting to hide for the past seven years—you love him.

“I was hurt, too. You don’t think I was?” Jungkook says softly, lifting your chin so you can meet his gaze. “I was devastated, knowing how much I hurt you. I couldn’t eat or sleep for days. Seeing and talking to you every day and then it just stopped. My world was falling apart, and I didn’t know how to fix it. I watched you go off to live your life while I was stuck here with you, haunting me everywhere I went. Philz, the damn grocery store, the park–you were there. There was no escaping you. So yeah, I was wrecked and broken, just like you.”

The narrative you created in your head of Jungkook and Josie was something out of a fairytale. Boy meets girl, they fall in love and live happily ever after. But according to Jungkook, it was hardly the case. You haunted him as much as he haunted you throughout the years.

Chuckling to yourself, you think about how this could've been avoided if one of you had just spoken up. Stepping back from him, you take a breath to calm your nerves. You lean back against the sink, arms folded. “Can I ask you something?”

Jungkook’s eyes flick to you and his body mirrors yours. “I’m an open book, ___.”

“Why did you give up so easily? Why didn’t you fight for me? Our friendship?”

A beat passes, and he doesn’t respond. It’s foolish to think he’d have an answer for you.

Your lips thin, and you breathe out a sigh of frustration. “It’s fine, Kook. Don’t answer. We’ll just go back to the way things were. Have a good life.” You walk off toward the living room and he follows.

“You don’t get to walk away,” he says, shutting the front door when you try to open it.

“Yeah? Watch me!” You turn back to the door, attempting to open it, but Jungkook’s hand is holding it shut.

He grips your arm. “I was scared, okay? I was young and stupid, and scared.”

You turn around and push him back. “Scared? You’re still scared! That’s why you can’t even break up with Josie! She’s cheating on you, by the way! I saw her with some guy glued to her neck. I don’t understand why you can’t just let her go.”

“I’m not scared of breaking up with Josie. I just got comfortable with her being around and didn’t think I could do any better.” Jungkook steps back and reclines on the couch’s armrest.

“You don’t think you can do better than Josie? You’re Jeon Jungkook, of course, you can.”

He forces a laugh, shaking his head no. “I barely graduated high school, practically failed my college classes. I don’t have a steady job and I have no idea what I’m passionate about. So yeah, I didn’t think I could do any better than Josie, until…”

“Until…?”

“Until I saw you at the party. I know it sounds cheesy, but when I saw you standing in the living room. It was like a sign from the universe, waking me up from this auto-pilot life I was living in. Seeing you again really shook me up.”

You could say the same thing about seeing Jungkook again. The universe loved to toy with the two of you, didn’t it?

“And then after our dinner two weeks ago, I broke up with Josie–like officially. I gave all her stuff back. I’m not answering calls or anything. So, I guess when you saw her, she must’ve moved on to the next guy–that’s what I wanted to talk to you about, me breaking up with her.”

There was a sense of relief when he said that because you were ready to fight Josie.

“Oh,” you say softly, taking a step toward him. “I guess I was wrong about you—being scared, I mean.”

Jungkook’s toying with his necklace, circling it around his neck. “I’m still scared.” He steps toward you, waiting for you to look at him. “I’m scared I’m gonna mess this up,” he says.

“How are you going to mess this up? We’re just friends.”

“That’s the thing. I don’t want to be ‘just friends’.”

Your gaze flicks to him and then drops to his lips and back up again. You know what he’s alluding to, but you need to hear those words leave his lips. “I don’t know what you mean.”

He knows you’re teasing him. “Do I really have to spell it out for you?”

“Yes.”

“Because I love you, okay? I’m in love with you. Have always been in love with you, and I’m scared to lose you again.”

Your eyes are glossy, fighting back tears. You’ve longed to hear those words from Jungkook, and like him, you’re afraid of an unknown future, but right now, all that matters is him.

As a tear falls down your cheek, you’re ready to let love in. Let him in. Discover new things. Rediscover old things. You’re ready to be vulnerable, move forward from the past, and let go of the heartache and pain.

“I’m sorry,” you breathe.

Jungkook steps toward you, cupping your face. “No, no, no. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

You shake your head. “No, I do. I’m sorry I didn’t fight harder for you–for our friendship. It’s my fault too.”

His thumbs caress your cheeks. “Hey, can we agree to let the past be in the past and just focus on us now, in the present?”

Your hands cover his, and you nod, flashing a soft smile. “Mhm. I’d like that.”

Jungkook wipes your tear-stained cheeks. “Now, can I do something I’ve been wanting to do for a long time?”

“What’s that?”

His lips finally touch yours. It’s not fervent or haste. It’s soft, uncertain. But you kiss him back. You’re savoring each point of contact. His lips overlapping yours, capturing a hint of your cherry Chapstick. Your eyes are half-lidded and you pull back for air, but he leans in, bringing you back in for more. His nose bumps into yours as he turns his head, deepening the kiss. Your body presses against his, your fists balled up, tugging on his white t-shirt. There’s a glow of excitement and nervousness rushing throughout your body when one of his hands grips your waist and the other is on the small of your back, pushing you further into him.

A low whine leaves his lips when you withdraw. He reaches for another kiss, but you stop him.

“Kook—” you whisper as his forehead touches yours.

“I don’t want to stop kissing you,” he says, kissing your cheek and tracing your jawline. “Don’t think I can ever stop.”

You chuckle. “I don’t want to stop kissing you, either. Maybe we should take this to the bedroom?”

While lying in bed next to Jungkook, you simply enjoy each other’s presence. Your fingers trace stars across his chest and you love how he breathes–his chest rising and falling ever so softly. The sound of his voice vibrates through your fingers and into your body. With one arm wrapped around you and the other resting behind his head, Jungkook tells you about the dreams he had but never dared to pursue–you being one of them.

And as the clock strikes midnight, the magic of you and him didn’t dissipate. It’s here. It’s real.

[vagabond-umlaut]

a battle well begun is the war half won

gojo notices you. you notice gojo. [the boy wants your eyes on him at all times.]

teen!gojo x fem!reader; first meetings; love at first sight[??]; lovesick gojo[??]; mostly fluffy; 1 small discussion on death; reader is in 1st yr whilst gojo is in 3rd yr; gojo has a very... unique definition of romancing in his brain; 'one-sided enemies to lovers' vibes; 2.2k wc

belongs to the series 'fictitious force' but can be read as a stand-alone if you wanna

the og saying is smthng else, yeah... ik. i js tweaked it a bit for fic title purposes, hehe. also, pls no comments on how i named this series... i used to hv a love-hate thing with pseudo-force problems in physics during my hs... and i'm srsly out of ideas :D

header frm pinterest // divider by @/benkeibear // jjk isn't mine

the sky bleeds green, the first time gojo sees you fight.

it isn't anything enthralling. your movements, far from well-practised. your twisted expression screams unease at best, extreme discomfort at worst— you are definitely not one of the best sorcerers the boy has seen so far—

yet he finds himself utterly transfixed.

feet rooted to the earth as an even brighter green beam cuts through the forest. and the second mountain of cursed energy becomes a few wisps of smoke. your form slumping to the ground not long after—

were the boy a better person at heart, he reckons he would've rushed to help you. but he isn't. not really.

so he keeps to his vantage point. blue eyes narrowing a touch behind his shades, as they watch you slowly heave yourself off the mud, face shifting into a scowl as you trudge towards a tree and plop down with no ceremony in front of it—

a barely-there rustle to his left.

followed by the appearance of the steady simmer of a cursed energy, all too familiar.

"yo, nanamin!" gojo greets, wearing a wide beam the second the said kouhai comes before him, feet carefully and soundlessly treading the rugged terrain— the latter's perpetual glower turns into a momentary flicker of surprise.

but it's vanished before the older boy can comment on it.

nanami's face flattens back to its usual state of annoyed indifference.

"the tournament is already over. yaga-sensei wants us all to report to him in another ten..." the boy trails off. rather abruptly. rather strange for him— aha! so nanamin has finally spotted you in the valley below, huh?— gojo wraps an arm around his kouhai's shoulders, allowing his gaze to return to you as well.

you look pretty cute when you're yawning...

"she's from kyoto, isn't she?"

"yes," the younger boy replies, pinning gojo under a curious look. but it's gone all too soon, all too swiftly like the ones preceding. he drops the arm resting on his shoulder.

gojo lets him. simply pouting in response, before he hums, "do you know her?"

"personally, no," nanami is quick to answer, "but from what i've heard from others... she's somewhat peculiar, if i may say so."

this is honestly one of the best opportunities he will ever get to tease that stoic underclassman of his, even more 'cause since when did he, the nanami kento, start gossipping like old geezers!?— but gojo opts to let this chance pass by.

getting more deets on you is way more important for him.

he doesn't bother to hide his burgeoning interest from his tone. "you know her name by any chance?"

nanami does. and as far as gojo knows, your surname doesn't belong to any of the sorcerer clans. none of the major clans, he is pretty sure of that— you might be from a minor one. or, what his gut feelings are telling him, you're from a non-sorcerer background.

not that it matters to him. he is better than the elders of his clan.

"and which year is she in?"

"first year."

wow. you haven't been in school for more than a few months, but you have already managed to make people talk about yourself, huh? quite impressive, gojo thinks as he steals another glance of you.

this time, no longer yawning. just staring vacantly at your keds—

except those muddy shoes are no longer the object of your attention. it is him— really, so very him— your bright, blinding, blindingly bright gaze, every ounce of it focused on him, as your back straightens. and he spots your shoulders tense, brows furrow—

gojo satoru doesn't run away.

he is one of the strongest duo of jujutsu sorcerers. the boy does not, he cannot, he must not run away... yet that's what he does when his gaze collides with you the first time.

grabbing nanami's hand and wasting not one moment to warp them both to the school rooftop, his kouhai's yelp of surprise goes with an ear-piercing whistle of the winds— gojo releases his hold on the boy, the moment his feet touch the concrete— and turns to him, eyes the calmest he can make them seem.

"tell me everything you know about her— like, right now— or i will tell your dear geto-senpai you were the one who finished his melon pan— quit glaring and start speaking, nanamin!!!"

****

turns out, nanami's heart has a very soft corner for gojo's best friend.

also turns out, the third-year need not wait till the breakfast at 10 am tomorrow, to approach you— you amble into his life, dressed in a tad too washed-out set of pajamas and a terrible hairstyle— gojo reckons an angel too would look the same, when you flip the kitchen lights on, making the clock seem a halo-ey thing behind your head.

you stop. suck in a sharp breath.

the boy swallows the last bit of his mochi. and grins.

"heeey! you're the newbie from kyoto, right? heard a lot 'bout you!"

honestly? it was less of hearing and more of extracting info, but gojo decides not to mention it. you don't have any business knowing that, whatever can be the case— ten painfully slow seconds tick by before you return him a response—

a stiff smile.

an even stiffer bow.

followed by you turning on your heel.

were gojo any slower, you would've slipped from the kitchen without any doubt. but he isn't. which is why not even four seconds can pass before he stills you again, this time not by his tall figure lounging in a terrifyingly dark kitchen but by his fingers grasping your wrist.

thumb pressing into the dangerously frantic pulse beneath your skin.

you try to snatch your hand away. and the boy lets you. only 'cause he was too distracted by the furious warmth of embarrassment creeping into your pretty face— no, it is not for how your skin felt a tad too soft beneath the callouses of his palm...

you're the first one to speak this time. voice so quiet... so firm.

"i don't think i can help you with anything, senpai. please don't bother me this way. let me go... please."

no way in hell is gojo bothering you right now— the indignant retort is the first thing the boy can think of. but he resolves to bite it back.

a stupid argument isn't how he wants his story with you to start. sure, there might and will be those later on, but not now. no. he shoots the second grin of his this night, your way.

"aw, i don't need your help with anything— but yeah, you're right. i'm not supposed to stop you like this... you need to sleep enough before tomorrow's one-on-one duels, don't ya?"

"yeah," you agree easily, eyes drifting to your shoes in a small nod.

gojo's grin widens.

maybe like a cheshire cat.

maybe like a victor cat who finally got the rat right where he wanted: in his paws.

"but you won't be needing a lot of rest if you're already determined to lose the match tomorrow— will you now?"

no, you won't. you obviously won't. gojo has learnt enough about you to predict this much accurately; but maybe not too accurately. given you don't show any sliver of shock or fear in return.

just two eyebrows raised, only to slowly descend to their original level a moment later. your tone feels firmer this time. "what exactly are you trying to tell me, senpai?"

"nothing too serious," the boy hums easily, stuffing his hands into his trousers pockets. why do they start being so cold, so clammy now of all times??— "just that it doesn't take a hell lot of work to maintain an image of being an incompetent idiot, like the one you always seem to be— c'mon," the boy coaxes, making his voice seem extra petulant at noticing still no emotion whatsoever on your face, "you do know what i'm speaking of, don't you?"

in retrospect, maybe... he should have handled you with greater care. you're not only new to your school, but also to the world of sorcery in general. pressing you so hard will hurt you, if not break you entirely— but gojo doesn't let such concerns form in his mind. not even for one whole second.

not when he wants to see something, anything come to life in those bright eyes of yours. he is dying to see a spark in them.

you fold your arms across your chest. brows nearing in a mild scowl. gojo doesn't really understand, but loves the sense of joy the sight is bringing him— "what exactly are you trying to tell me, senpai?" your adorable voice repeats, stonier than before.

he resists the urge to pinch your cheeks. or worse, coo at you.

the boy removes his hands from his pockets. copying your stance as he says, "i cannot really tell you anything, y'know— you're almost as smart as me— i mean, tricking those stinking geezers into believing you're just some weakass, with neither a cursed technique nor good fighting skills, despite the insane amount of cursed energy you've..."

"why did you never curb your cursed energy, by the way?" the query slips past his lips into the space in between: horribly genuine. a fact that doesn't escape your eye, he grasps when you reply— in spite of the not-too-little reluctance marking your features.

"the higher-ups were aware of my high cursed energy before i even knew what the hell it was— it was honestly too late," you state in an awfully matter-of-fact tone, "they would have noticed if i tried to do anything to it."

the 'and they would have harmed me or my family' goes unsaid, but gojo doesn't need to hear it to know it. not entirely intentionally, his voice grows softer with the next question.

"but you tampered with something that no one knew anything of yet— you lied about having no cursed technique, didn't you?"

your hesitation overpowers you this time, however. brows furrowing for a beat at him, before they flatten again. you offer a curt nod.

few more seconds borrowed until you speak again, "but my horrible fighting skills weren't a lie entirely... i really am shit at fighting— you saw that today, did you not?"

he did. he so did—

but that very moment, he also saw just how strong your technique is. surely not as powerful as his. but pretty much capable on its own— it frankly won't be a serious issue even if you keep fighting how you did today—

the sound of a yawn breaks his internal musings.

those big eyes of yours blink up at him. so bleary, so bright. he stifles the urge to pinch your cheeks again. deciding to shoo away the sleep in your eyes by throwing the next ask his brain has cooked up. one he knows, has the biggest 'yes!' ever for its answer—

"you're very scared of dying, aren't you? that's why you always make yourself seem so weak— so much so that you aren't assigned to any mission— don't you?"

— only to question his brain when he notes the easy smile twist your lips. it sharpens at the edges as you answer, "dying's rather easy and uncomplicated, senpai. it doesn't really scare me, except maybe, the pain i might have to suffer— but do you know what's scarier??"

"no," gojo says back quietly. honestly. your smile grows something an awful lot similar to pity— the boy detests it usually... but coming from you, he thinks he will take it.

he will take any look you're willing to give him.

as long as it's you on the other side—

your words reach him quieter than the breeze outside. "what's more terrifying is the worry of what is going to happen to your loved ones, should you just die someday— death is inevitable, but i just want to stave it off for as long as i can. just so i may live with my family... you know what, senpai?" you interrupt yourself abruptly, voice becoming the sharpest in these last fifteen minutes.

a feeble sound escapes the boy.

he isn't sure if it's because of that sincere little hum in your words or if it is the gleam of the moonlight on your face. perhaps, both...

yeah, both— it is rather difficult to distinguish between the beauty of your inner self from that of your outer self— the smile simmers down to a subtle twitch of your lips.

something stutters and stumbles inside gojo's chest.

"i know you see me as nothing more than a coward right now, but i believe... it's better to be a coward and alive, than to be a hero and dead— isn't it, senpai?"

[you're pretty bold, however.

far braver than he could ever deem you to be, the boy muses later to himself with a wry smile, an ice bag on the big toe of his right foot— this poor thing swollen and bruised from how mercilessly the heel of your slipper stamped onto it earlier—

okay, fine— the sorcerer concedes to the imaginary angel perched on his shoulder. something between a grumble and a sigh escaping— he shouldn't have asked you out on a date, in return for him to keep your secrets.

it was really inappropriate, he admits. and gojo likes to see himself as a gentleman... yet, yet, yet.

the need to see that placid mask of yours crack— let it be by a glower and not by the smile, he has never seen on you but knows will be just as lovely as you— that need was too overwhelming then as well...

shushing the angel and fist-bumping his guardian devil, gojo tosses the ice bag away. and falls back into his bed—

a very happy, a touch too giddy grin splitting his face into halves:

you really are a peculiar girl, heh!]

hope this was an enjoyable read! pls don't plagiarise, translate or repost this ❤️❤️

masterlist

[cuteandhughesy]

hiii!!! i love your writing, like the angst and the fluff is amazing. i actually had a request for arturs silovs (canucks) or jeremy swayman (bruins obv, for now at least) where they go on reader's popular hockey podcast, which kinda goes viral in the hockey community with many ppl shipping the two, and they kind of get pushed into doing more media stuff together as it brings views for the teams and stuff? im sorry thats all i got, feel free to add or change this if you do choose to write it. thanks

The Alchemy | Jeremy Swayman

summary: having your own sports podcasts was one of the most enjoyable and rewarding jobs you could ever have. when a particular episode with bruins goaltender blows up - you are jermey are pushed together to film more videos. it doesn't help that everybody is shipping you two together - making your growing crush on him become harder to mask.

9.6K

warnings: SFW! friends to lovers | mention of covid -19 | fishing | suggestive dialogue | kissing

a/n: thank you for the request! your idea was so cute that I just had to write! I chose sway obviously so I hope yall love <3 happy halloween 🎃

link to masterlist

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when you were a little girl you'd often find yourself huddled on the cozy material of the living room couch, watching your dads tv shows until way past your bedtime. you'd always stay quiet, eyes focused only on the tv, too scared that if you'd move you'd be put into bed.

that's when you first fell in love with hockey. having no choice but to watch the tv and seeing professional athletes zip around the stark ice at high speeds, shooting dangerously, and throwing hits - you were immediately drawn into the crazy world of hockey.

but when you're a girl and you express your love for any kind of professional sport, you become immediately labeled; gold digger, clout chaser, a bunny. whether it is football, baseball, basketball, or hockey, nobody believes girls when they say they're into the sport simply because they like the sport.

that's what made you want to start pursuing a hockey related career. you wanted to show everybody that girls, just as well as men, could watch and enjoy a sport without any ulterior motives.

in 2020, with covid-19 at its peak, you started to create hockey related content and post it on tiktok. it was simple videos with just you and your mini microphone - discussing game play, trending and popular news, and nhl players.

it blew up, and after a year of tiktok content, you were approached by barstool sports with the opportunity of a lifetime.

starting a professional sports podcast was intimidating, especially under such a well known company like barstool. you'd be competing with pardon my take, bussin' with the boys, and most famously, spittin' chiclets.

you started with high hopes and a nervous belly, recording a solo episode in your small podcast room. thankfully because of your large following on tiktok, your podcast was a successful one, and you continued to grow into your space and talk all things hockey.

what set you apart from other sports podcasts was your style of content. you were good at remembering these athletes for who they were: human. of course, you'd analyze and discuss their game, but at the end of the day, these men aren't machines and you were always reminding your audience of so.

fans of the podcast described you as 'an amazing sports analysts who perfectly represents how it feels to be a woman in sports. y/n is respectful but honest. funny but kind. clever but not a know it all. pucks in deeper with y/n is the best sports cast for everyone."

it wasn't long before your podcast, titled pucks in deeper, was gaining traction outside of your tiktok fans, and you started getting occasional sponsorships and guests on the show. starting smaller with paul bisosnette and ryan whitney (who graciously had you featured in an episode of their podcast), then landing your first active nhl athlete, only 9 months after starting at barstool.

ryan reaves was the perfect guest for your podcast and perfectly matched your vibe and the vibe of content you wanted to put out into the world. the episode with reaves birthed your first viral clip, and from there you had other professional hockey players wanting to come on your podcast and chat.

at 25 years old, and almost 5 years deep into your podcast, you were thriving. often getting compared to a mixture of bobbi althoff, alex cooper and brittany broski - your content was very personalized to your interviewee, and you specialized in humour and lighthearted conversation that the players were very intrigued by.

obviously, you got hate comments, mostly from people who had nothing better to do. you'd get called a puck bunny, and were told that ‘you knew nothing’, and ‘should quit while you're ahead.’ but that didn't phase you, and you thrived off the negatively. it pushed you to prove them wrong, and continue to have a viral and successful podcast despite the criticism.

——

email from: barstool sports inc

to: y/n y/l/n @pucksindeeperpodcast

y/n,

as usual, your podcast remains a positive and successful experience for our company. we continue to be absolutely blown away by the outpouring support and love for pucks in deeper, and are excited for you to continue at the pace you are still gaining.

due to the incredible virality of your podcast episode with jeremy swayman, we have reached out to both you and swayman with a proposal. the fans and viewers have loved your shared dynamic, and we are wanting to feed off that outpouring obsession by having you and jeremy film some content for our barstool channels.

that includes an expenses paid trip from new jersey out to boston, where you'll be staying for a few days for filming - as well as transportation and hotels in boston.

we are certain this will benefit you and the continuing growth of your podcast.

jeremy swayman's team has already agreed to the terms of the proposal and he is willing to spend time and participate in planned content recordings.

let us know what you're thinking and if you'd be so kind to consider this opportunity.

thank you,

barstool sports inc.

you re-read the email again, knawing on your thumb nail gently. a few weeks ago, the boston bruins goaltender, jeremy swayman, had graciously made an appearance on pucks in deeper. instantly, jeremy became one of your favourite guests. his calm exterior and humor had bounced off your style of interviewing perfectly, and you found yourself feeling very much intrigued by the goalie.

even though the interview was over a zoom, the entire podcast went smoothly. jeremy was kind and a willing participant in all the quizzes, games and questions you'd thrown his way.

there was a clipped video from the podcast your team had uploaded to your channel's tiktok page that had gone viral, and the traction on the swayman episode after that was mind blowing.

PODCAST CLIP

"okay," you start, a gentle and anticipating grin on your face. "this is near the end of our episode - sad, I understand," jeremy laughs at your humor, his eyes squinting. you continue, "and like usual i've hand selected a question from a fan and i've found the perfect one for you."

jeremy's brows raise, "should I feel scared right now?"

you dismiss his question, a gentle grin still softening your expression. "a little birdy told me that you're a big rom-com guy."

"is this little birdy in question named brandon carlo?" jeremy questions knowingly. you'd had the bruins defence man on the podcast the week before, and he'd immediately spilled the embarrassing and memorable tea on his teammates.

"answer the question."

jeremy laughs once, and through the slightly grainy zoom video, you watch him run a hand through his hair. he nods quickly, still smiling with amusement. "i'd say yeah - fuck it, im a self proclaimed rom com enthusiast."

"well I have the most fun question that i've kind of turned into a mini game," you clear your throat, and your eyes briefly flicker down towards your desk top, scanning over your podcast notes. "the question is from @swaymansbae - damn it they stole the username I wanted." you slip in the joke quickly, just a subtle end to your sentence.

it works, and jeremy laughs again. "oh god - you should fight them for it."

you nod, "i'm going to - anyways. @swaymansbae asks what are you favourite rom coms."

jeremy hums appreciatively, already thinking of movies he'd share his love to the hockey world with.

"but I've added my own little twist. okay, so you've all seen how blind ranking things has become just like, this crazy phenomenon online. and i feel left out...so, jeremy i've got a list of 5 of my favourite romantic comedies, and you'll have to blindly rank them - 1 being the best, and 5 being the worst. ready?"

"oh fuck," jeremy huffs a laugh, and you watch him adjust into a more relaxed posture on the camera. he rubs his jawline, eyes bouncing around the computer screen. "i'm feeling nervous now - they're your favourites?"

"yeah," you nod, pushing your blue light glasses higher up the bridge of your nose - your makeup always has them slipping down. "so there is definitely a right and wrong answer."

jeremy curses again, a quiet chuckle coming alongside the swear.

you begin, "10 things I hate about you." you look away from your notebook and back at your computer screen, eyeing jeremy with faux caution.

he hisses through his teeth, teetering his head in quick thought. "i'm going to have to go 5."

"what?!!"

he laughs again, "I don't know…i'm not big on the whole enemies first storyline."

"enemies to lovers, jeremey, get it right."

another chuckle is heard before he starts to defend his rank. "I don't know it's something about that storyline I find so unbelievable. I think if you truly loved one another, you wouldn’t treat each other like that."

you sigh loudly, "okay, I guess that makes sense."

"is that your favourite?" jeremy questions, a teasing glimmer in his eyes.

"no comment." you clear your throat, reading your next movie from your notes. "next: to all the boys i've loved before."

"i've never seen that one - 4."

"jeremy...oh my god."

he raises his hands in surrender, teeth sparkling where they are just becoming visible under his growing smirk. "it's too new!"

"it came out in like 2018 -"

"- okay and i'm more into the classics. that's not one i've seen, but maybe i'll have to check it out."

"no, yeah you absolutely need to watch it." you tell him, eyeing him over the rim of your tortoise shell lenses.

"it's not enemies to lovers is it?" he gets the name of the trope correct this time around, and it has your lips quirking up pleasantly.

you shrug a shoulder, "no, not really."

his brows furrow, "not really?"

"moving on - how to loose a guy in 10 days."

he claps his hands, rubbing them together. "okay now I can get down with this - amazing movie."

"amazing." you echo, nodding. "and like hello matthew mcConaughey is this movie is like perfect, as well as kate hudson."

"way better than him in the wedding planner." the bruins goalie agrees, leaning forward in his kitchen chair as he gets more engaged with the conversation.

your eyes widen in suprise, "100%. and you wanna know why?"

"he's a cheater in that movie."

you make a noise - a combination of joy and shock escaping your throat. "no exactly! you get me."

"I get you." jeremey nods his head in a jerk like motion, acknowledging you like a flirty teenage boy. "i'm going to have to put that at...damn - gotta go 2."

ever so slightly, your cheeks tinge pink. regardless of your online persona of lighthearted, flirty, and funny, you're easily flustered. it sometimes made your job a bit difficult - but you're also good at your job, so repressing that initial haze from his compliment is quick and easy.

"not 1?"

he kisses his teeth, "something could always be better."

"very optimistic of you - the proposal."

his gentle laughter comes to a soft end, and he eyes you through the camera. "y/n…that's that stupid enemies shit again."

"okay, yeah but this one is different."

"how?" jeremy chuckles.

you splutter for a moment, thinking of some sort of answer. "he's all like scared of her and it's just, I don't know, well executed! and it's not like she's horrible to only him, it's just her personality."

jeremy scrunches his noise, clearly not vibing with the proposal even with your explanation. "what do I have left open?"

you glance at your notes, where you've taken the time to make sure you'd been tracking the places of each of jermey's ranking on the movies. "1 and 3."

he curses. "it's gotta be 3 - I can't put it at 1."

"oh my god, better hope you like this next movie. god forbid if the characters are mean." you tease him, eyeing him playfully through the screen. jeremy's lip tugs up, a grin forming. you continue, "and your number one....the last movie is...she's the man with the lovely amanda bynes and channing tatum."

"okay I'm actually really happy with that. I'm obsessed with that movie." he beams, "that is the kind of rom com that you just can't argue its greatness. not only is it funny and unique, but it's a sports movie - c'mon."

you echo him, "c'mon, what's not to like?!"

"sports romance for the win."

"very fitting," you chime warmly. "are you saying if a girl wants your attention she should disguise herself as brad marchand and zip around the ice."

he barks out a laugh, nodding reluctantly. "something like that."

comments

user1: wait this is everything

user2: OBSSESED

user3: sway + his love for rom coms = my new obsession

user 4: no because they way he's looking at her !

user 5: justice for 10 things I hate about you

user 6: why do I ship them together

user3: no because I was going to say that

user 7: they vibe so well together I need this is be like a weekly thing honestly

user 8: he's got rizz

user 9: MORE pls i love you both

user 10: okay but you two would be the most stunning, perfect couple. the humor matches, the banter, the way they look at each other

user4: just watched this again and omg the way sway says he hates enemies to lovers bc he doesn't believe you could treat somebody you love that badly - CERTIFIED LOVER BOY

the fans were always amazing, but as they loved on the episode, the comments about you and jeremey being cute together and shipping you were coming in at a lightning pace. it had you feeling weary of filming more content with him - despite knowing it would be a professional working environment.

the comments made me you feel like you were falling into the stereotyped female hockey fan category - labeled as a puck bunny or clout chaser. and although you found yourself always growing stronger from those false accusations, it doesn't make you the happiest to see those types of comments.

you sigh gently, pressing the respond tab on the barstool email. through your doubts, you know that barstool is right, and filming more content with jeremy while your podcast episode was still gaining traction was smart. and it's not like jeremy was a bad guest - quite the opposite. so you'll learn to work around the fans who want the two of you to date, and the allegations that you're already in jeremy's pants.

spending time with him would be good, you think. without any idea of what you'd have to participate in, you say yes - looking forward to meeting jeremy and continuing to get to know a potential returning podcast guest - getting shipped together be damned.

no harm, no foul.

boston, here you come.

— youtube: JEREMY SWAYMAN TEACHES Y/N Y/L/N HOW TO FISH

"okay and here we have - camera man, come closer." you gesture for daniel, the younger camera guy to come closer. once he's in your space, you direct his attention towards the portable flat table filled with fishing rods along other fishing things. you continue, "and this right here will be my rod. the fisherman's dream 2000."

beside you, jeremy laughs. he's fiddling with his own fishing pole, attaching the fake shrimp lure on his hook. he's laughing because there's no fishing rod on the table called the fisherman's dream 2000, and you are simply just fooling around.

regardless, your face is very serious, and you continue. "I mean, even though this is my first time fishing, jeremy told me - he actually said this - he said: I can tell you're going to be the best fisherman already so you deserve the nimbus of fishing rods. to which I responded, 'jeremy I'm a fisherwoman not a fisherman.'"

"yeah, you're right I totally said that." gently with his hip, jeremy shuffles you slightly off to the side, making more space. you don't mind, and allow him to move you around with his gentle push. immediately, he reaches for the fishing rod you'd been talking about, picking it up off the table to start attaching bait.

before he hooks the mini lure on, he looks at you. he's already grinning, and one of his brows is raised questioningly. "you sure you don't want to hook it on? you're supposed to be learning."

you cross your arms over your dark green plastic overalls, and the fabric puffs around you awkwardly. "I can watch and learn."

he eyes you slowly, gaze dragging down your body, assessing your fishing attire of rubber boots, overalls and a long sleeve - and back up to your face. jeremy is dressed the same, keeping him dry from the drizzly, cooler june day. "you definitely like to watch, huh?"

your mouth drops slightly, and in an instant you're getting into his space, taking the bait from jermey's calloused fingers. "okay, fine." he's laughing at you gently, watching as you try and attempt to attach the rubber fish to the sharp hook. you curse, merely missing pricking your finger. "this is rigged - there's no way it's supposed to be hard."

gently, jeremy takes over once again, hooking your lure correctly so it's secure on the end of fishing rod. you look back up towards the camera again, "okay and as you can see we've attached the fake bass fishy to the rode - hopefully to catch some big fish." you fist bump in and early celebratory gesture.

chuckling, jeremy shakes his head in amusement. it wasn't a bass lure, and they're aren't even bass on the lake you're at. regardless, he lets you take control and entertain- what you're best at.

"if I was a fish, i'd fall for that fake food -  zoom in on that masterpiece, my god!" daniel the camera man does what you ask, expertly changing the framing on the camera to capture the neon oranges and pinks of the lure.

shrugging, you dig into the tackle box, pulling out some more fishing necessities. things like rolls of fishing line, pliers, scissors and anything in between. you pull out a small pocket knife, holding it wearily as you eye the camera - a frightened expression on your face. "what's this for? are we gutting them?"

jeremey laughs once, shooting you a look as he fiddles with the rod. you had no idea what he was actually doing with the fishing rod, because you've never held a pole in your lifetime. "we're not gutting them." he tugs one of the levers, and the clear fishing line tightens before your eyes.

"then what's the knife for?" you question, swinging it back and forth between two pinched fingers.

he shrugs, testing the retention of his fishing line. "don't worry about it." your eyes widen comically, and the swinging knife comes to a dramatic stop. it has jeremy laughing again, his shoulders shaking as he does. "okay, are you ready to head over to the lake?"

the lake in question was only 10 feet away - the water looking awfully calm through the misty weather.

you turn your body to face jeremy fully, an amused frown tugging at your lips. your brows raise playfully, "am I ready?" you echo, sarcasm lacing your tone. you pull the straps of your rubberized overalls, letting them smack back against your shirt. "i'm ready to catch some fish."

with that, you grab the orange rod from jeremy, bringing it against your chest. jeremy cringes slightly, watching the way your fingers merely miss the hook on the end of your line. on instinct, he reaches out to you, moving your hand gently so that you're out of harms way. "do you remember what I told you?"

you think back to the beginning of filming, after you'd mentioned to everyone that you had absolutely zero clue how to fish. jeremy had nicely said there was nothing to it, and as long as you remembered a few rules, you'd be fine. you sigh in thought, eyes looking into jermey's - his gaze encouraging. "stay calm and speak gently - to not scare the fish."

you're praised immediately, jeremy smiling warmly as he gathers the fishing necessitates to bring down to the water. on the way down, you almost wipe out, practically shrieking as your foot slips down the wet, grassy hill. it would've had you feeling embarrassed, but thankfully jeremy's reflex's were superior (those nhl goalies are on a different level), and he grabs the crook of your elbow to stabilize you.

he smiles slightly, eyeing you playfully when he asks if you're okay. you blush slightly, brushing off your slip with some teasing remark.

when you had arrived at the filming location this morning, you weren't expecting to end up at a fishing park - you weren't expecting fishing period. you'd been left feeling clueless about what you and jeremy would be filming for barstool, and you definitely weren't prepared for water related activities. thankfully, the crew had provided both you and jeremy with proper waterproof attire - your tights and long sleeve align top wouldn't cut it.

right before getting changed, jeremey had shown up and....he was much better looking in person. you hate yourself for even thinking that, and you almost feel guilty for daring to even have those thoughts about an nhl athlete. anytime you think an athlete is cute, you have that guilty feeling - you hate that it plays into that bunny stereotype, even though you'd never get on your podcast and solely discuss an athletes look.

regardless, you're not blind. jeremy swayman was taller than he looks, and broader than expected. he also smelt really good, and his smile had you feeling flustered. it had your online persona feeling more real, and your borderline flirty comments had you getting hot and bothered - especially when jeremy flirts and teases back.

off camera, you and jeremy (mostly jeremy) set up the fishing equipment on the dock; poles, extra bait, and even adorable little camping chairs - you really felt like you were getting the premium fisherman experience. he runs over simple fishing techniques and hacks, showing you how to keep ahold of the rod, how to reel your line and casting. the camera catches all your poor attempts, as well as jeremy covering his snicker behind his hand - his amusement at your poor cast very evident.

5 minutes into fishing

you jerk the rod slightly, trying the movements jeremy had showed you just two minutes prior - trying to snag any fish nibbling around your bait.

you sigh gently, pursing your glossy lips outwards. eyeing jermey, you ask, "so like what kind of fish are we exactly trying to catch?"

jeremy hums, "some perch would be nice. or possibly cod, or halibut..." he trails off, eyeing your confused face, and the look you're giving him has a subtle smirk tugging at his upper lip. he breathes a laugh, "you have no idea what I just said, do you?"

you bark an unattractive laugh, and that has jermey's smile deepening. "not a clue."

"that's okay," he assures you immediately, and his leg moves towards you like he was planning to knock your thighs together reassuringly. but your bodies don't touch, and it has you feeling a little disappointed. "everyone has their own interests. besides sports, what else do you like?" he looks towards you quickly, but looks back at the water when he feels his line tug slightly - nothing has bitten unfortunately.

you swing your fishing pole back and forth tiredly, enjoying the way the water ripples from your line moving on the surface. "oh god - honestly i'm into a lot of stuff; movies, books, fashion, food. you name it and i'm into it." you pause, eyeing him playfully. "you must not watch my podcast - I tend to talk about myself a lot."

jeremy looks back at you quickly, but once he sees that you're clearly being playful, his once tight shoulders relax, and he smiles gently. "maybe I get distracted when I watch your podcast and don't catch everything you say."

he was insinuating that he's distracted by your face - his teasing gaze and laughing smirk has you clueing into jermey's underlying undertones.

you clear your throat. you can feel heat rise to your makeup covered cheeks, and you advert your gaze back to the lake - trying to distract yourself from the whirling fluster caused by jermey's flirting. "well guess you'll just have to hear me talk about it all over again."

11 minutes into fishing

"what's your opinion on one direction, jeremy?"

he pauses from reeling his fishing line in momentarily, and a very small, breathy laugh falls from his tinted lips. jeremy looks at you, scratching his stubble in thought. "love them." he admits.

you smile automatically at jeremy's willingness to answer you absurd, random questions - just like he's been doing since you first meet through a zoom meeting for your podcast. your brows raise questionably though, not truly believing that a 25 year old man would vibe to a british teen boy group.

"okay," you hum questionably, "but who's your favourite?"

jeremy doesn't back down, keeping eye contact with you - reeling in his fishing line long forgotten. "who do you think it is?"

now you're invested. you squint at him, deep in thought. you look jermey once over, "probably zayn. yeah, you give big zayn vibes."

he smiles, brows pulled tightly. jeremy jerks his head at you, expression full of curiosity. "who's your favourite?"

"louis." you tell him.

jeremy laughs triumphantly, "i knew you'd be a louis girl."

you click your tongue, and adjust your seating position. without thinking, you let go of the fishing rod so you can push yourself upwards in the chair. before the most likely expensive rod takes a tumble into the misty water, jermey catches it, jolting across your thighs so he can grab it before it plunges.

you don't notice the chaotic series of events, and you smile, still thinking of the one direction conversation. "what can I say," you hum, " I like them a little wild."

jeremy eyes the camera - a mixture of amusement and fear on his face.

19 minutes into fishing

jeremy watches you intently, observing the way you change your bait. there'd been nothing caught yet, and honestly you were playing up the impatient act pretty well.

so, jermey suggested to change the bait on your hook. that way you'd not only be able to have a new opportunity to attract fish, but also learn how to change your lure.

he sighs gently, "okay, you're still not hooking it right." he leans closer to you, the arm rest digging into his muscled side.

"oh, shut up." you grumble, making sure your playful flare is very prevalent in your tone.

jeremy takes the pink bait from your fumbling fingers, properly demonstrating the correct way to attach it to the sharp hook. "you shut up." he echos you, nudging your side with his elbow - his hands not once leaving your fishing rod.

"make me." the underlying suggestiveness that can be taken from your remark doesn't dawn on you at first - but as soon as jeremy pauses, and gives the camera a knowing glance, brow quirked playfully, you realize your mistake.

you blush, and without really knowing what else to do, once jeremy fixes your lure and pulls away, you throw the extra fake fish at him, hitting his bicep.

25 minutes into fishing

"holy shit," you beam, eyeing jeremy beside you. when his posture suddenly changed, as well as his body position- muttering a curse under his breath, you knew something was happening. you watch him reel the line expertly, "do you have a fish right now?"

"yup," jeremy's tongue darts out, tucking against the corner of his mouth as he concentrates on reeling in his catch. it's not much labour for him to bring in the fish, effortlessly lifting it out of the water. it's a pretty big fish, you think, considering you've never seen a living fish this close.

he holds it expertly, detaching the hook lodged in the fishes throat. ones it's free, he switches hands so he's pinching the lip between two fingers, holding it out.

"oh my god, you're like really good at this." you compliment, tilting your head to get a better look at the side of the fish, eyeing its reflective, slippery scales.

"you like that, huh?" he spins the fish in between his fingers, allowing you to get a proper look at all angles. jeremy grins, eyes watching your wondrous face. "want to hold it?"

you frown unpleasantly, eyes darting between jermey's reassuring face and the scaly fish gripped in between his fingers. "I don't know?" it comes out like a question, your weariness about holding the fish clear.

"you got it," he assures you, "come here." he holds his free arm out, silently gesturing you to come towards him.

almost reluctantly, you take the few steps left between you, and stand beside him. the camera catches it all; jeremy practically gentle parenting you as he shows you how to properly hold the fish, the uncertain expression pulling at your face, and the shriek you let out when the fish starts to squirm around - its tail flapping up against your wrist.

"oh it's slimy," you state the obvious, holding it as far away from your body as human possible. it squirms again, and you can feel your fingers slipping away from their grip. you look at a smiling jeremy, who's clearly having fun watching you struggle. "jer, yup."

you gesture the fish at him, eyes darting between the aquatic animal and jeremy.

"he's fine." he smiles through gentle laughter.

"no, no, take the fish."

32 minutes into fishing

you reel in one last time, watching the fish come up from the waters surface, dangling off your hook. it's squirming around, water spraying all over.

jeremy comes up beside you, helping you bring your fishing pole upwards to properly display and hold the fish. "yes, y/n," he smiles praisingly. his arms come around you from behind, adjusting your positioning.

you're too distracted by the fish frolicking around at the end of your clear line to feel flustered by jeremy's closeness - paying no mind to the gentle way he helps you. "oh my god," you beam, "I just caught a fish." 

"yeah you did!" jeremy nods encouragingly, slipping his body around to your side. he looks between the fish and your bright eyes, and he squeezes your bicep warmly - oh, he's still got an arm around you. "you gotta try and take it off the hook."

"no. jer, i'm scared!" you tell him immediately, "I can't do that."

"you can," he assures you, "just try once, and if you really feel uncomfortable after that, ill do it, okay?" his warm eyes stare into yours softly, providing a comforting vibe towards your clear uncertainty.

that combined with his sweet smile and the heat of his body, which, yes, his arm was still wrapped assuringly around your body, has you sighing shakily and you nod. "okay, i'll do it. i'll try just for you."

— tiktok video:

when you'd finished up filming, one of the producers who'd been off working in some white, pop-up tent while you'd be with jeremy, informed you that before leaving, they need you and jeremy to make a tiktok.

but surprisingly, they gave you and jeremy a lot of creative freedom with the direction of the video. meaning, you'd get to choose the audio and your positions and presentation of the tiktok.

"twin" the audio starts through the phone, and you mouth the beginning of the song. the camera catches you stepping out of one of the trucks, mimicking you as if you'd just got to the filming sight. you've still got your fishing gear on - rubber overalls and boots included.

the next shot is on jeremy, who you both decided would be at the picnic bench, looking like he was waiting for you. as the audio starts, he whips around towards the camera, lip syncing to the next line of the audio. "where have you been?" he points off camera at you, and his overalls squeak at the friction of movement.

you laugh at him behind the camera, stifling your laugh into a clenched fist. jermey finishes that part of the audio with a large wink in your direction, and you shake your head with amusement- a giant blush covering your cheeks.

"nobody knows me like you do." you're at the picnic table for the next part, and you previously decided to pretend one of the fishing rods was a microphone, singing into it sarcastically.

the audio continues, and jeremy comes into screen behind you, taking the fishing pole turned microphone to sing the next line. "nobody can't love me quite like you can."

the last remaining seconds of the audio, you wanted to capture you and jeremy from a distance. as an ode to your famous podcast episode clip, you and jeremy previously decided on recreating the dirty dancing lift for the video. right before beginning to film the last part, jeremy checks in on you to make sure that you're still feeling okay with being lifted, which sends your heart running rampant in your chest.

the camera is set to slow-mo, but in real life it feels like you're running a million miles an hour. the way jeremy easily lifts you into the air and over his head - his hands splay over the entirety of your hip bones, holding you steady.

you're glad for the ridiculous overalls in this moment, because you think if you'd be able to feel the warmth from his hands too close to your skin, you'd die.

10 minutes later, when you and jeremy are watching the video back, you get all those fluttering, nervous butterflies once again. he laughs against you, body just grazing your backside as he watches the tiktok over your shoulder.

as the lift plays out on the phone, he leans in closer, his chin gently brushing against your shoulder. out of the corner of your eye, you look at him. jeremy is smiling, eyes bright as he watches the end of the tiktok. his woodsy scent is intoxicating, and you can count every freckle sprinkled across his nose with him being so close.

suddenly, he looks at you. his smile doesn't falter, and if anything it changes into a more smirky, excited one. "that's a good one, don't you think?" briefly, you watch his eyes flicker away, landing farther down your flushed face before meeting your gaze again.

you nod once, blinking gently. "yes....really good."

— 9 months later: NHL ALL-STAR GAME

there's not a day that's gone by since the videos of you and jermey had been posted to the barstool media accounts, that you haven't been tagged, sent or mentioned in a clip of the two of you. fans loved you and jeremy, and still continued to blow up not only the fishing video and tiktok, but your podcast as well.

there's also not a day that's gone by since leaving jeremy in his rubberized overalls that you haven't thought of him. in the few conversations you've had face to face with him, you've been left feeling rather smitten and flustered with jeremy swayman. it doesn't help that before you left boston 9 months ago, jeremy had asked for your contact - all smooth and smirky. it obviously had you swooning and giving him your number.

so in all these months, you and jermey had been in contact. it started simple, with sweet check ins every couple days, you congratulating him on wins, and teasing him for his game day suits - but that soon turned into more flirtatious, and playful conversations. on a few occasions, you'd even sent him tiktok edits of himself, accompanied by a sequence of heart eye emojis from you.

jeremy would like and shamelessly comment on all your photos on instagram, and vice versa. which obviously has the shipping edits and comments spiralling to an unfathomable level. at first, you were worried that jeremy would feel uncomfortable with the fans wanting you two together, showing their support through comments and videos - but no, jeremy loved it all.

him having enjoyment in the relationship shipping between you both has you feeling even more into him - your feelings for jeremy growing stronger and stronger. that combined with fun text threads, edits and occasional facetimes from jeremy, has you crushing hard on the bruins goal tender.

two months ago, you had the nhl social administration and event team reached out to your team and ask if you'd been interested in interviewing nhl players on the red carpet for the nhl all star game. it was such a surreal moment and immediately you took the offer.

for the entire two months since accepting the opportunity to be an interviewer for the nhl social team, you'd been looking forward to the february, toronto bound event. the nhl administration has taken care of the expenses, as well as wardrobe and makeup for you - which is wild.

now here you are, standing on the red carpet while interviewing amazingly good nhl superstars. thankfully, you've meet and interviewed a lot of these guys on pucks in deeper, which leaves no room for awkwardness. the players know you and your style of interviewing, and that visibly has them lightning up from their previous over professional exteriors.

you're mid conversation with tom wilson, listening intently as he answers one of your more serious interview questions, when you feel your heart speed up.

it's weird - at first as you're not sure why exactly you've become nervous. you swallow, adjusting the mini-microphone by your painted lips - your gold bracelets clinking against each other. as subtly as you can manage, you let your eyes wander down the carpet, and it doesn't take you long to see and understand the sudden change in your hearts pace.

kids near the entrance of the arena are all calling for jeremy, their hands tightly holding out bruins memorabilia for him to sign.

the light catches the silver chain on jeremy's neck,  complimenting his shining smile to make his grin look even brighter. you clear your throat, tearing your eyes away from jeremy and back towards your interviewee. thankfully, tom is clueless to your shift of mood, and is still happily answering into his own tiny microphone.

you've only got one more interview before you get to talk to jeremy. it's with mat barzal, who if you weren't so infatuated by the bruins goalie , you'd been shamelessly flirting with. you'd never had barzal on your podcast before, but that didn't matter - talking with him was anything but akward. it was nice, and (if you aren't going insane) you're pretty sure the islanders forward was flirting with you.

but you're too blinded by jeremy to entertain any of those thoughts. soon enough, he's next in queue, chatting to his assistant without realizing what exactly he's in line for.

you lock eyes as he is directed towards you, and immediately you feel yourself relax. your once tense shoulders fall back into a comfortable position, and your cheeks heat pleasantly as a smile automatically grows on your face. instinctively, you're falling into your interview shoes (currently very glamorous shoes). "you just can't stay away from me for too long, huh?" you tease him as your social director passes him the mini mic.

jermey's smile is matching yours, his gaze not leaving you as he takes the microphone, holding it tightly between two fingers. "what can I say? you look great!"

you drag your free hand down the front of your red dress, the soft material tickling the pads of your tanned fingers. "why thank you, jer. i've got to say i'm digging this look on you - much better than the boring suits you usually wear."

jeremy smiles at your lighthearted jab to his fashion choices. his last game, you'd given him slack on his boring suit choice and had followed with a text thread of insane, over the top suits you'd considered better options. "I was taking inspiration from the ones you'd sent me."

you hope fans don't piece together any insinuations from jermey's comment  referencing your texts. although it has you blushing, you recover from your fluster relatively quickly, and you reach towards him, poking one of the black, shiny buttons on jeremy’s jacket. "and tell us what you're wearing mister fancy jacket."

he looks down at the material of his suit jacket, "i've got a custom todd snyder on - very comfortable and stylish. it's just what I was looking for when I was trying to find a jacket for this event."

you nod understandably, "yes, like cute and professional but also cozy."

your chipper tone has jeremy's smile growing. his warm tinted eyes go hazy, and they rather slowly watch you - tracing down your dress covered neck, down your bare arms, and all the way down to your painted toes peeking out your heels. his tongue wets his plump, bottom lip, and his eyes find yours again. "you look cute and cozy."

even if he's meaning it innocently, you can't help but think otherwise. what feels like the 20th time since the start of the interview, you blush. "were twins then." you shrug sweetly, as if to show the audience that the way you were speaking to one another was no big deal - hopefully they buy it …because you certainly don't.

jeremy’s smitten grin grows wider. he bites the skin of his bottom lip, tucking it between his teeth seductively. it's like he's in a trance, which usually would have you feeling creeped out or weird, but because it's jeremy and not some random guy, you feel your skin prickle pleasantly, and your knees begin to feel weak.

the camera man clears his throat - a subtle and gentle reminder that you're supposed to be interviewing jeremy, not eye fucking him.

you blink. "unfortunately, I have to get a little boring, jer. can you tell me and the viewers what you're looking forward to the most at all star weekend. sorry I know, boring and repetitive." you stick your tongue out, blowing a raspberry.

your noise mimicks a fart if anything, and jermey laughs a real laugh - all teeth and squinted eyes. he rubs his chin in thought, but comes up with an answer pretty quickly. for the first time tonight, his media training is kicking in. "i'm really looking forward to just spending time with all these amazing guys and having fun on the ice."

teasingly, you purse your painted lips, cocking your head to the left. "so not me?"

through his constant grin, jeremy clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth - nodding at your correction. "okay, maybe you too."

you give the camera lenses an unimpressed look, as if to say - is this guy being for real? you shake your head, playing into your annoyed persona. "since our fishing video together, which thank you to the fans for blowing that up -"

"- oh my good, yes, thank you." jeremy adds on, nodding thoughtfully.

you continue, "fans want to know...what is your favourite one direction song?"

jeremy exhales loudly, eyes bouncing between you and the camera lens - a whisper of a curse heard from under his breathe.

you nod understandably, "we've really got the hard hitting questions, so I can understand if you need to take a second to think-"

"kiss you." jermey interrupts with a triumphant tone, and he looks very proud of his answer.

"that was pretty fast - why kiss you?"

his slinky smile is back, and it has your stomach falling all the way down to your feet. "why not?" jeremy shrugs one suit covered shoulder nonchalantly, and the sleeve of his jacket brushes against your bare arm at the same time.

you smile, "what's been your favourite part of toronto so far?"

this time, jermey's answer is instant. "you."

you laugh proudly, nodding in approval. "that's a better answer."

behind the camera, one of the social directors holds up a pamphlet, one that she'd change throughout the night. it only ever said a last name - the last name of whichever nhl player was next and approaching your interview area. it was essentially a one minute warning, and she was trying to tell you to start wrapping up your conversation with jeremy.

disappointment pangs deep into your chest, the thought of having to part ways from jeremy is not one you enjoy.

reluctantly, you look away from the director holding william nylander's name up over the camera man, and set your gaze back on jeremy. "okay, i've got a two part question. firstly, are you up for a little challenge?"

he nods, "right now I think you could probably talk me into anything. so yes."

your heart flutters but you stay composed. "good. secondly, which celebrity team do you hope picks you? because personally i'm hoping you get team tate, so you can sneak me in for a picture with her."

jermey laughs again, his head rolling backwards. "obviously id be happy with any team, but if I get tate...I got you."

you smile brightly, "thanks jer."

"anytime."

"we appreciate you taking time out of your busy day to chat with us, we always love catching up with you."

"thank you for having me, y/n/n." the sudden nickname has your heart beat coming to a dramatic halt, and from now on all you ever want to hear is jeremy swayman's voice, saying your name over and over again.

there's a brief moment before nylander gets to your portion of the carpet - he is currently too caught up with screaming fans and paparazzi. the camera lens isn't focused on you as the camera man fiddles with some of the dials, affectively blocking the two of you from its view.

jeremy passes the tiny microphone back to you, and his fingers graze yours softly on the way back. you swallow nervously, meeting his gaze once more.

he clears his throat and suddenly he seems almost...nervous. he rubs his hand against his jawline scruff once, a nervous habit he’s always had. "hey, after the stuff going on tonight, a couple guys and their girlfriends were planning on getting dinner. I was wondering if you'd like to tag along?"

your eyes widen in suprise, "guys and their girlfriends?"

he breathes laugh, "yeah. I want you to come with me."

"okay," you nod bashfully, "i'll come."

you watch william nylander enter your queue behind jermey's broad shoulder, chatting happily with your director as she goes over the process. you've interviewed nylander before, so it will be another breezy and entertaining interview- especially with the swedes personality.

jeremy's grin is blinding, bringing you back into reality. "great," he sighs, "i'll text you after."

"i'll be looking forward to it."

-- DINNER

you take another hearty gulp of your spiced red wine, letting the clash of flavours sit on your tongue briefly before swallowing fully.

you're on your third - maybe fourth? - glass of your preferred wine, and sure, maybe you were using the buzz as a way to calm your erratic, exited heart. since jeremy had texted you after the events of the all star celebrity draft, you've been filled with happy butterflies - and only a part of that was because of the picture he sent you of him with tate mcrae.

jeremy had walked to your hotel room -he didn't want to just meet outside or just meet at the restaurant, he picked you up on the 10th floor of the expensive toronto hotel. he had complimented your new, dinner appropriate outfit - a shiny maroon top with sleek pants and jacket and you had shared the compliment back at him.

you had to clench your thighs together to calm yourself when you were right outside the extravagant glass entryway of the restaurant, pastrnak just seeing and waving you both over, when jeremy leaned down, lips brushing your ear and admitted he hadn't stopped thinking about you and your sexy little dress.

so, yeah, the wine was definitely needed. you stab one of the only remaining potatoes onto your expensive silverware, bringing it up and past your lips. you chew lazily, listening quietly to the conversations around you. after all, it had been a few hours of meaningless conversations since you and jeremy arrived - your borderline drunk brain needed a minute.

the potato was cold now, and the gravy coated it had that slimey film coating. you pull a face to yourself, chewing the mushy food quicker than before, trying to get to swallowing it faster.

fingers tickle your arm over the sheer material of your blouse - jacket long abandoned over the back of your chair. you look over to jeremy, who's got his arm rested loosely on top your jacket - the culprit of your bicep tickles.

he looks amused, "you okay?"

with no regards to the food in your mouth, you turn towards him and begin to speak. "my potato is cold."

jeremy chuckles lowly, continuing the leisure up and down motion with the pads of his fingers against your covered skin. "want to spit it out?" he can tell you're teetering on drunk, and he doesn't mind at all. you're at the perfect level of buzzed - still controlled and conscious, but also having no care in the world. jeremy feels pleased that you feel comfortable enough to let go with him, and he finds amusement with your usual laid back, humorous behaviour.

you shake your head, finally swallowing the food in your mouth. you turn your body into his, and push your body against the side of your chair, trying to get closer to the man beside you. jeremy raises his brows questionably, the start of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I don't spit."

the suggestive undertones to your words don't go unnoticed, and jeremy is spluttering. his cheeks tint pink, and he takes a harsh swallow. you bite down onto your lip to contain the flurry of giggles that want to pass, and you lean further into jermey's bicep behind you.

finally, he collects himself. behind you, you can feel his elbow bend, and with the new position he can come around to the side of your head - his fingers taking some of your hair between them, gently running through your strands. "no?"

you shake your head. "nuh uh."

"so, y/n." the sound of a fork hitting someone's plate combined with them calling your name, has you pulling away and out of jermey's personal bubble. you're back to the reality of who you are and what you're doing here - not just at dinner tonight, but in toronto this week. you're supposed to be a professional. your cheeks flush with the guilt of feeling caught - even though you're not actually doing anything wrong.

kenna, mat barzal's girlfriend, is looking at you expectantly, her pointed chin resting on her tanned palm. you resist the urge to huff at the sight of her sour face. since the start of the evening, kenna has been very passive aggressive towards you - no compliment was given without a condescending remark. not only that, but mat had been very flirty and friendly with you since the red carpet, and although you've been unresponsive to him, it only fuelled kenna's fire.

she hums in faux interest, eyeing you and jeremy. "so like, it must be nice with your podcast and having the pick of like any and every nhl player you want, huh?"

a couple of people sitting at the lengthy table hear, and they look down at you quickly. you laugh awkwardly, eyes briefly meeting the crisp, white table cloth below you. you shrug, "I suppose? everyone is really nice, and i'm very grateful for their support."

she laughs, "I mean, like, do you just like, fuck any of them?"

her words are like a stab to your chest. all those derogatory hate comments and misogynistic remarks come rushing back to you. you don't know what to say, even though no, you've never hooked up or dated any nhl player, especially while you're working with them. but you can also understand why kenna would think that - the way you're cuddling up and talking with jeremy is very much telling.

that guilty feeling is back, and all you can do is just stare at kenna's smug face - mouth open wordlessly.

"I don't think it's any of your business, honestly." jeremy’s voice is firm, but not unkind, as he responds for you. "it's nobody business but hers. y/n is ridiculously good at her job, and she is way past the point of having to prove that she's serious about her work."

kenna laughs it off, mentioning something about just playing around as she takes another sip of her mixed drink. the conversation slowly starts up around you again, and without the attention focused on you and the awkward exchange, you feel like you can finally exhale.

you look at over at jeremy, your eyes glossy and wide. his expression is hard, and his brows are pulled tightly together in irritation.

"you didn't need to say anything...I'm used to those kind of comments." you try and dismiss your feelings - trying to lighten the mood, but jeremy doesn't buy it.

he shakes his head, "you shouldn't have to deal with that - especially from some douche bags girlfriend."

the end of his sentence has you cracking into a smile, a breathy laugh following. "thank you." you take a quick inhale, stopping your quiet laughter. your face turns serious again, "but I don't do that - i'm not some crazed, horny, puck bunny in disguise. that's not what this is." you gesture between the two of you without thinking, and you feel your lips falling into a frown - your emotions catching up to you.

jeremy mimics your frown, and before he can stop himself, he reaches out and takes ahold of your hand. he gently keeps ahold of you, bringing your hand down to rest on his lap. jeremy runs his thumb along the wrinkles of your palm, soothing you. "you don't need to justify anything to me."

you nod silently.

"ready to head out?" jeremy questions gently. you answer yes quickly, letting jeremy help you out of your seat and into your winter jacket. he gives david some money - enough to cover both of your meals before he guides you out of the restaurant, hand in yours.

the walk back to the hotel is pleasant, the once lingering awkward feeling from the restaurant vanishing once you and jeremy were alone. like earlier in the night, jeremy comes to your hotel door - he doesn't suggest that you'll go your separate ways once in the elevators, or part ways in the lobby, he doesn't even hesitate to walk you back.

before you swipe your key card in the holder, you torn to face jeremy. you smile, leaning your bodies weight onto the closed hotel door. "I had a nice time tonight, jer - although I think it's only because you were there."

he laughs gently, "i'm glad you came."

you cringe at yourself and your rather rude insinuation about everyone else at the restaurant tonight - even if it was true. "sorry, when I drink wine I have a hard time controlling my mouth."

jeremy shuffles closer to you, so subtle that you don't even register him moving. he shrugs, "I don't mind. they deserve it."

you giggle. "and you also look really good - like, all the time. I haven't stopped thinking about you in fucking, like, 9 months." you shake your head, "sorry - the wine." you remind him.

"don't apologize, if wine makes you say things like that, I never want you to stop drinking it." jeremy reaches out to you, resting his large hand on the side of your jaw. his thumb strokes your ear lobe softly, running over your studded earring.

your stomach swoops, silently looking up at him. jeremy is so much taller than you, standing over you like a damn giant. the position of you two has you feeling small - sexy. your tongue darts out, wetting your lips. your lipstick has faded throughout the night, and your spit adds more colour to them - more appeal.

but jeremy thinks you've never not looked like the most beautiful, amazing, appealing woman he's ever seen. he smirks slowly, a warm, syrupy feeling in the air around you. "I really like you, y/n - so much that it's kind of embarrassing."

you smile, "I don't think it's embarrassing, especially because I feel the same way....but I think my wine mouth gave that away."

"it sort of did." he teases.

you huff gently, eyes twinkling with amusement. before you can say anything back, jeremy leans down and kisses you. the wine flavours mix between you, and the exchange of quick kisses combined with slow, tongue chasing kisses making your knees buckle.

jeremy presses you further against the door, his thigh slotting between yours to provide an extra form of stimulation. you sigh into his mouth, holding onto his shoulders warmly as you continue to make out in the hotel hallway.

reluctantly, you pull away. you're breathing heavy, heart pumping loudly through your ears from the adrenaline high. "maybe we should clam down - we're in public."

"shhh," kiss. "just a little bit more." his words are mumbled, his lips brushing against yours. jeremy’s lips find yours again, and all your worries float away.

you blindly grab ahold of your key card, and it takes a couple of attempts of trying to slide it through without the use of your vision - but you get it. jeremy’s lips don't leave yours, and you don't want them too. he uses his body to push you both through the door and into the hotel room, kicking the door shut with his dress shoe behind him.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

[jongseonvs]

enha as your ex/when you break up

warnings: enhypen is kind of manipulative (?)

#jay ─ ¨*• ☪︎

he tries his best to avoid you, because he doesn’t want to see you. not cause he hates you, or feels resentment, he’s scared to see you happy without him. he looks up your socials late at night to see what you’re up to though. he’s curious, but he’s afraid to see something he doesn’t want to, like you following more boys than he is or you soft launching another guy.

#sunghoon ─ ¨*• ✦

he avoids you in person, especially because you’re in the same friend group. but he stares when you’re not looking. he notices how prettier you’ve gotten, how more confident you seem and he realizes maybe it was him holding you back from you being at your prime. as much as he secretly misses you, he has no plans in getting back together with you.

#heeseung ─ ¨*• ✮

is very much a lover boy, so he doesn’t see you with anyone but him. can’t accept the fact that you’re actually over, so he often shows up to your house or randomly gives you your favorite snacks or sends a text. “i thought you were broken up?” asked your friend, watching hee walk away after handing you a water bottle and your favorite snacks.

“we are.”

#jungwon ─ ¨*• ꕤ

isn’t your ex.. but he is. you don’t have the title of being his “girlfriend” anymore but he still comes over, you still go to his games, and he still kisses you goodbye. you don’t complain, because you still love him, but you wonder if he is just keeping you around because he was bored when he was single.

#jake ─ ¨*• ♡̶

the only one that healthily creates boundaries and allows you time away from each other before even deciding to be just friends. it works for a while, the dynamic, until he sees you getting closer to gunwook and he no longer wants anything to do with you. he cant handle seeing you do things with gunwook that you did before with jake.

#sunoo ─ ¨*• ✿

acts like he doesn’t care, but you’re all he thinks about. you didn’t end on the best terms but he still loves you so much. he talks to girls and guys the second you break up because he just needs to get over you. it doesn’t work though, because he finds himself looking through all your pictures in front of his new date.

#ni-ki ─ ¨*• ✧

he also tries to seem like he doesn’t care but anyone 3 feet away can tell how affected he is by your breakup. he’s not himself and surprisingly calls you at 1 in the morning begging you to give him another chance. as much as you don’t believe its a good idea, you fold instantly and he spends the night in your bed.

[a/n 🎀:] thank you for reading! feedback is always appreciated :)

[flyingwargle]

december fanfic recs!

the last collection of recs for 2024 are here! take a look at last year's monthly recs if you need more: november, october, september, august, july

some of these fics are rated e!

sakuatsu

All of My Pretty t. 6.1k. sakusa has a hidden affinity for make-up and feminine clothing but atsumu reacts negatively when he sees it dressed up. there's a happy ending however!! atsumu is a wholesome partner!!

MSBY Plays UNO m. 7.2k. exactly what the title is. sakuatsu don't break up because of uno, you don't have to worry about that.

The West of Your Spine t. 8.7k. sakusa discovers this atsumu has feelings for him when sakusa does not. augh. sakusa, you big idiot. lovely prose and imagery, as always from mcbeefy.

Roll On, Seventh Wheel t. 8.8k. atsumu realizes that everyone on msby has a crush on sakusa and he does what he does best: tell sakusa that he's better off with everyone else. so cute and endearing. <3

instabae m. 11.4k. komori needles sakusa into posting more on his insta and atsumu makes it his personal mission to take him around the city so to help him take photos. he catches feelings along the way. very cute and fluffy!

Such a Constellation Was He to Me e. 11.8k. sakusa has a bunch of tattoos and offers atsumu a closer look. THIS FIC!! brought me to my knees. it was so soft and tender, and the depiction of sakusa's tattoos was just...augh. my fic of the month.

know you better m. 14.3k. 6/6. atsumu and sakusa are ordered to get to know each other better after their disagreements interfere with their performance on the court. loved the gradual progression of enemies to friends to lovers and the balance of family and mental health issues shared between them.

YOUR BEST AMERICAN BOY t. 23.3k. an asian-american au featuring sakuatsu. as an asian-canadian, i was able to relate to this at a spiritual level. this was inspired by afflications for below-average asian-americans that's in atsumu's pov, which i also read a while back. it's a really niche but nuanced au, and i'm so happy that they exist.

more cock, fewer roaches. please. m. 30.8k. 2/2. sakusa learns that his neighbor down the street has bedbugs so he's getting his house fumigated and needs a place to stay. atsumu offers his guest bedroom and sakusa takes it, thus undergoing to mortifying realization that he likes atsumu. loved this!

standby m. 30.6k. 5/5. sakusa has a complicated relationship with food because of his neglectful parents. atsumu, the owner of onigiri miya, hopes to change that. a lovely slowburn with gut-wrenching descriptions.

sunaosa

on soundcloud, spotify, and first meetings with suna rintarou t. 3.1k. osamu sits behind suna in lecture and watches him make a new playlist on spotify every class, including the suggestive ones. very cute, i very much enjoyed it.

check the grin (you’re in love) t. 5.5k. suna hiccups when he lies, which is terrible since he can't lie that he likes osamu. very fluffy, lovely prose, and very cute <3

Capturing your portrait (and getting drawn into it) g. 22.9k. 6/6. the team is fed up with suna having embarrassing photos of everyone and seek revenge, tasking osamu to take an embarrassing photo of suna, except he falls in love during the process. very fluffy with amazing character dynamics.

iwaoi

i said, excuse me you’re a hell of a guy g. 5.4k. iwa always knew he had a crush on oikawa, but he knew he had a crush on oikawa when he heard him singing (read: rapping) in the shower. so cute and lovely!

bookmarks t. 6.4k. iwa works part-time at his university library and exchanges notes with a student that puts holds on books every week, T. O. very cute and endearing.

the sunlit alley g. 6.6k. iwa is an ao3 writer who deleted one of his works and sees oikawa's deranged tweets mourning its loss. i need this to happen to me in real life. when will i meet a devoted ao3 reader irl (the answer is never because i live in canada and no one lives in canada). very funny, one of my favorites this month!

ten years & a thousand mornings m. 15k. a beautiful ode to iwaoi's relationship through the mornings they have together in argentina and the mornings before then.

kagehina

Change of Plan(e)s g. 4.2k. queerplatonic kagehina for the soul! kageyama gets sick while traveling back home and hinata takes care of him. very comforting and fluffy.

conflict of interest t. 6.6k. kageyama and hinata's relationship is interpreted as bitter rivals when in fact, they're married. oh, my boys, they love each other so much, and the way they revealed their marriage was the best.

if it wasn't for you g. 13.1k. hinata texts kageyama to ask if he changed his life. kageyama responds with "hah?" an exploration of their relationship and eventual getting together. very cute!

other

the convergence of the aces g. bokuto and iwa friendship with side bokuaka and iwaoi. 4.1k. bokuto notices that iwa looks a lil lonely and befriends him. i love their friendship and how they were able to be with each other through their major milestones. a beautiful portrayal of male friendship <3

given t. 6.1k. tokyo cousins. komori's room tour goes viral after he reveals all the cursed gifts that sakusa got him, and msby4 finds the cursed gifts that komori gave him in return. familial love!! these two are so precious and the fic is hilarious. one of my favorites <3

the sky in my arms, the storm in my heart g. 7.5k. hinata-centric. a love letter to hinata and his time in brazil. on my hands and knees, i love this author so much, everything they write is gold and this made me tear up (i read this at work. do not recommend, read it at home so you can scream your heart out)

my love language is you t. 8k. bokuaka. no section for bokuaka this month, i'm sorry (i need to find more bkak fics). bokuto shows his affection for akaashi using the love languages. utterly adorable and fluffy.

Five Times Ushijima Wakatoshi Absolutely Lost His Shit g. 8.2k. ushiten. title. ushijima still keeps his stoic personality until he doesn't, and tendou is there to keep him together. very funny and sweet.

First Aid Kit m. 70.8k. 15/15. beautiful character study of tsukishima along with his blooming relationship with yamaguchi. beautiful prose and slow burn.

Blood In My Veins m. 77.9k. 21/21. kuroken. obligatory heart-wrenching kuroken fic of the month, this time with kuroo escaping his abusive ex to live in the city and befriend kenma, who has severe social anxiety. painful yet soft with a happy ending.

[chenfleur]

open the gates, let me in

summary. jeno always seems willing to do anything for you, and it takes a lot of inner nagging for him to finally realize why.

pairing. jeno x y/n ft donghyuck, jaemin

genre. fluff, college au, best friends to lovers

disclaimers. swearing, denial resonates so deeply with me its humiliating

word count. 4.0k

released. 02.05.23

masterlist

For what feels like the nth time this hour, a certain honey-skinned boy shamelessly rolls his eyes at one of his best friends. That title, however, is in serious danger of being revoked if he has to spend one more agonizing second in this store.

"Give me one good reason I shouldn't ditch your ass right now," Donghyuck jeers. His habit of poking his cheek with his tongue shines through as impatience radiates off of his body.

Jeno ignores his complaining, eyes diligently scanning the rows of colourful fragrance bottles.

He's quite overwhelmed. The labels, brands, scents, and undertones—they all mean nothing to him. The only thing he's somewhat familiar with is the brand of the cologne he takes a liking to, but the strong woods and smokes of the men's cologne selection is a distinct opposite of what he’s looking for.

It leaves him to stand cluelessly among the shelves of white flowers and citruses and berries, trying to pick out the combination he thinks you'd like the most.

"Where would you even go? I drove," Jeno deadpans. 

He gently picks up a translucent, pale red bottle. Blood orange and peony.

Popping off the cap, he spritzes a tiny bit on his inner wrist and brings it up close to his nose. The scent is like a punch in the face, leaving him reclining back with a furrowed brow.

Too strong.

"We're going to be late to Jaemin's if you don't hurry the fuck up," Donghyuck says, burning holes through Jeno's skull before letting out a deep sigh.

"Can you just pick one so we can go? We look like fucking idiots here."

Jeno only hums, cracking a small smile.

He couldn't chide him for being wrong—the two of them look very out of place. Their sharp silver jewelry, inked skin, and dazed boyish smiles contrast against the dainty bottles standing atop the soft pink shelves of the women's fragrance section like black on white.

"Firstly," Jeno begins, voice riddled with amusement. "You don't give a fuck about punctuality-"

"Oh look at you, going off with your big words."

Jeno spins around. "Hyuck, you're drinking a matcha frappucino while looking like that."

He points at the green drink the boy was sipping on, the extra whipped cream he asked for contradicting his hard exterior.

Donghyuck scoffs. "Sorry I don't like to drink death in a cup," he drawls, sarcasm dripping off his tongue.

He breaks his glare on the black-haired boy as he sees two girls standing a distance away, his face doing a 180 as he notices them not-so-discreetly staring.

Smirking, Donghyuck confidently throws them a wink. He watches with pride as flattered giggles spill from their lips, before turning back to Jeno, who had picked up another bottle.

"Why are you even doing this?" Donghyuck asks out of genuine curiosity, though it's hidden underneath the guise of annoyance.

"Y/N asked me to."

Here’s some money. Get me something you think I'd like, yeah? you had said. Or something that you'd like. I'll still wear it, I don't care. I trust your judgment.

Donghyuck snorts. "I'm convinced you'd do anything for Y/N," he mutters.

It's an offhand comment, yet it makes the black-haired boy put his tongue between his teeth as a weird, sprawling feeling erupts in his chest.

The thought of why he seemed willing to do anything for you had never occurred to him. Not because the thought had never shown up to the gates of his consciousness—Jeno was uncomfortably familiar with the strange feeling in his stomach when you were around—but because he never let it in.

He doesn't dare to let it in, even going as far as telling it to leave and never return each time it knocks—because if he did, he would spend hours in this perfume section, legs going numb from standing as it invaded and overtook his brain, preventing him from getting anything done.

His eyes land on one last bottle. It's a clear one, with a clean, minimalistic label.

Lazy Sunday Morning. Maison Margiela.

Jeno repeats the action he's done with multiple bottles by now; spritzing the fragrance onto a new, untouched area of his inner arm and bringing it up to smell.

It's soft, it's floral, it's feminine. It infiltrates his senses in the way fresh, cotton bed sheets would. The soft sun after the rain.

It's how you look when he comes over to your apartment unannounced on a random weekend morning: wearing an oversized white shirt and a pair of high-waisted sports shorts.

It's the strawberry lip gloss that always stains your lips. It's your Hello Kitty pillowcase that you wash way more often than Jeno washes his, for which you constantly nag him for being unhygienic.

It's your flushed, red face at parties, your preference for tea over coffee—your smaller, softer hand grabbing his calloused one when he gets nervous.

Jeno thinks it's you, and he hopes you think it's you too.

He slowly turns around to Donghyuck, who's fidgeting with the tattered sleeve of his leather jacket.

"Smell this," he prompts, snapping the brown-haired boy out of his daze.

Donghyuck tugs at Jeno's arm, bringing it up to his face and taking a quick whiff before letting it fall. "Smells nice. I'm sure Y/N will like it. Now let's go," he presses, already taking off towards the exit.

Jeno only shakes his head, gaze falling on the bottle he held in his ring-clad fingers. He thinks it would look nice on your vanity, next to all your other bottles of products.

He doesn't know what they do, but they make you, you.

Donghyuck, whose brown strands are now dyed a refreshing purple, throws his head back howling with laughter as he sees you and Jeno approach the food court table.

He receives several displeased stares from nearby people, but he doesn't seem to care in the slightest, only being able to focus on what Jeno is wearing.

"Oh my fucking god, Jeno," he wails incoherently, pointing at his friend's pants while clutching his stomach. "What- what are those?"

Your choice to wear a pair of light-washed, ripped skinny jeans to come to the mall turned out to be a massive mistake. You're bitter towards the person who first said "beauty is pain" because of how miserably right they are; whose idea was it to make girls' pants so uncomfortable?

The walk across the parking lot to the entrance was enough for your legs to start screaming for relief, resulting in you pleading with Jeno to switch with you.

Jeno drops down into the empty seat next to Jaemin, letting out a deep sigh. He rubs at his temples as Donghyuck's high-pitched, maniacal laughter erratically rings throughout the air.

This is exactly why he was adamant about declining your request; Lee Donghyuck is an entity of pure evil, and Jeno felt the humiliation creeping up on him from behind like a tiger ready to pounce.

But as he always seems to do, he relented.

Now, his sweatpants sit comfortably on your hips, bunching up at your ankles while he wears your jeans, the pant ends stopping halfway up his calves.

"She was chafing," he mutters, referring to you.

Donghyuck laughs loudly and unapologetically, reaching down to poke at Jeno's bare knee through the large rips of the jeans. His actions result in him getting a hard slap on the arm, eliciting a pained "ow!" from him.

You give Jeno a sweet smile, slipping him another whispered apology before feeling a gentle tug at your wrist.

Renjun begins to drag you away from the table, mumbling something along the lines of "new premium watercolour set" and "20% off". Jumping up from his seat, Donghyuck follows suit with a devilish smile etched on his face, immediately asking the shorter boy to buy him a vinyl he had his eye on from earlier.

Jaemin watches as the three of you fade into the crowd of customers, leaving only him and Jeno at the table. As soon as you disappear from his sight, he whips around with anticipation. "So?"

A shaky blink. "So..?"

"So? Have you thought about what I said?"

Jeno doesn't respond as he stills, his lips pursed carefully.

Of course he had thought about what Jaemin said.

He tried his goddamn hardest not to, just like he has with every other possible reasoning behind his feelings that wandered into scary, uncharted territory—but how could he not? It wasn't something that he could just forget, like remembering to wash his socks or buying milk.

A week ago, Na Jaemin had brought upon him a revelation that was far too casually dropped at one of the group's regular get-togethers. It was like a silent bomb, and it had been doing no less than eating at him alive.

He wants to deny it so badly. In fact, that's exactly what he's been doing—denying its possibility of being true, denying its existence at all.

If it was going to slip through the cracks of the iron gates, Jeno was going to make sure it felt as unwelcome as possible.

And that's exactly what he does.

"I have," he begins meekly.

Upon hearing these words, Jaemin's lips stretch into a wide smile. "And?"

"...and I don't think you're right."

The lights in the younger's eyes flicker out just as quickly as they turned on. He doesn't even bother to hide his disappointment, giving his best friend a deadpan stare. "Are you serious?"

"Yes."

He was expecting this reaction from Jaemin, but he couldn't let it get to him. Not when he couldn't let the narrative Jaemin was pressing so adamantly a week ago be true.

A loud sigh rips through the air. "Jeno, why are you so in denial?"

"I'm not in denial. It's not true."

Jaemin leans forward, looking into his best friend's eyes. He could tell there was a deep, buried sense of longing behind those dark irises.

"Lee Jeno," he begins slowly.

"I have known you nearly my entire life. I have been by your side since we were puny, disgusting first graders, and I have never seen you be so caring towards someone."

Jaemin has always doted on you.

He reminds you of a worrying mother; a fairy who is always there to remind you to dress warmly and take your vitamins. When you had a fever, Jeno had knocked on the door of your apartment only to be let in by Jaemin, who had been in your kitchen making his mother's soup recipe for you.

Donghyuck is the playful, sarcastic brother you never had.

He's the one who always encourages you to down another shot, to get you to do crazy things like jumping off the roof into a pool. But he's warm when he needs to be; Jeno had walked in one night through the door of his and Donghyuck's shared apartment to find you dumping your emotions onto the honey-skinned boy's shirt as he whispered words of consolation.

Renjun indulges your passionate side.

You share so much in common with him and you value his opinion like a sacred script. He's your 3AM therapist for your woes, he's your debate opponent for any topic—he's the one who encouraged you to chase after your dreams when you had trouble deciding on whether to choose what your parents wanted for you, or what you wanted for yourself.

Jeno thinks he's just Lee Jeno to you. 

The captain of the basketball team you met back in junior year of high school, who’s an architecture major at the same university you go to. Your best friend, but only if you thought so.

When it's about the others, Jeno seems to see everything—how they care for you, in what ways they’re integrated into your life—he doesn’t seem to notice how much he cares for you. 

He doesn't think about how sometimes, he miraculously finds himself entering your apartment at the crack of dawn to remind you to bring an assignment that's due that day. And when you knock your hand against his, silenting asking for him to hold it, he’ll reluctantly put his cold, mysterious image aside to gently slip his hand into yours.

There was one time when you asked to go stargazing in the dead of the night. Despite the subzero weather outside, not an ounce of regret coursed through his body when he agreed to go with you.

He couldn’t feel his fingers when he was out there, but it didn’t feel like it mattered when he saw you pointing at constellations with a smile of pure euphoria painted on your features.

He doesn’t notice how you notice that he cares.

The way your eyes lit up when he quietly entered your room with medicine and a hot water bottle went unseen by him. You never told him that Renjun was only half of the reason why you chose to pursue art, and that seeing him choose architecture over the path his own parents wanted for him pushed you over the edge.

He seems to remember you curled up to Donghyuck's side, but not how as soon as you saw him walk through the doorway, you gently peeled yourself up from the couch, out of Donghyuck's hold to throw yourself onto him, because you had come to their apartment looking for him. For his hold, for his comfort.

No, he doesn't notice these things because he's selectively blind when it comes to the possibility of there ever being a 'you and him', and it drives Jaemin nuts.

Jaemin laughs, dumbfounded. 

"For fucks sake, Jeno," he exclaims, dragging his hands down his face. "You're literally wearing women's jeans right now."

He removes his hands from his face, staring deeply into his best friend's eyes in a last-ditch effort to get through to the stubborn boy.

"You're in love with her."

"I'm sorry."

At this point, you’ve lost track of how many times those two words had left Jeno's lips.

The party downstairs blares in the background, though it’s muffled by the closed door. Jeno’s murmured apologies are the only sounds that fill the air, other than the squelches of water as you squeezed your shirt in the sink. 

You turn your head around to look at him, a soft smile tugging at your lips. He’s sitting on the edge of the acrylic bathtub, sliding his rings up and down his fingers with a distant look on his face.

"Stop apologizing. It's okay."

Despite graduating two years ago, Johnny Suh still parties like it’s his full-time job, and being in his second-floor bathroom makes the room feel like it’s a physical manifestation of his spirit.

There’s two lights above the bathroom mirror, though one of them had blown its fuse. It casts a dim, aquamarine light that reaches every corner of the small room, highlighting the slightly frayed shower curtains and dark crevices of the floor tiles. There’s a few shaving products and the remains of a half-smoked blunt strewn across the surface of the otherwise clean countertop.

The reason why you and Jeno are in the bathroom instead of downstairs isn’t one the boy’s proud of. 

You didn’t run into Jeno until around halfway through the night. They say you haven’t had the real college experience if you haven’t gone to a Johnny Suh party, and the flocks of people that covered every part of the estate prove how much people value getting their tuition’s worth.

A light sheen of sweat is apparent on your forehead as you try your best to weave your way through the masses. You don’t even know where you’re going, and you could feel it growing stuffier as more people spilled into the halls.

It’s only until you suddenly feel a piercing cold sensation on your chest do you see something other than drunk college students pressed together.

You come face-to-face with Lee Jeno, who’s staring at you with big, round eyes and lips parted in sheer horror.

You glance down at your own body. The center of your chest is several shades darker, a large wet splotch prominently standing out against the beige fabric of your long-sleeved top. 

Your eyes dart between your top and Jeno’s red solo cup that had several droplets of liquid dribbling down its side. Realizing what just happened, you can’t help but laugh.

“Why hello to you too, mister,” you say between giggles.

Jeno’s face is flushing redder by the second, and there’s a big bump on his head from the imaginary hammer that struck him for being so stupid. 

A few seconds go by of just him staring at you before stutters spill from his lips. 

“I- Oh my- oh my god,” he breathes out. “Oh my fucking god, Y/N, I’m so sorry-”

“It’s okay. I needed an excuse to get away from all the noise anyways,” you cut him off, reaching for his free hand. 

“Come with me to the bathroom?”

The words flow out of your mouth like a smooth, running stream; casual, and far more relaxed than the jittery feeling in Jeno's stomach. He doesn’t resist in the slightest, the feeling of your touch sending a surge of electricity up his arm.

Finally looking up from the metal around his fingers, Jeno’s breath hitches.

His eyes trail down your figure with innocent intention. The thin straps of your ivory, silk camisole delicately sit on your collarbone, your black miniskirt hugging your waist. 

He doesn’t realize he’s even staring, not when he’s mesmerized by the slope of your nose, or the outline of your cupid’s bow.

There’s something that the aquamarine glow is doing to you that makes his jaw go slack.

Usually, he’d be alert, keeping his thoughts in check—but the slight intoxication seeped through him, and he can feel himself growing careless.

Jeno's hand twitches. You're within arm's reach, he could reach for your waist and pull you right into him—but he doesn't, because that would ruin the scene.

This scene of you standing in front of the sink, twisting your shirt in your hands with a small crease in your brow. It's so domestic, so perfect—he can't help but wonder what it'd be like to see you like this every day—

—and then, he hears it.

There it is, the violent banging on the gates. It echoes through the halls from outside, persistent and maybe just a bit desperate. Or, was it actually his heart thumping against his chest?

Open up! it yelled. You would do anything for her. You're in love with her, idiot!

Had it been his heart all along?

"There we go," you give your top one final twist, grinning with satisfaction as the water drips down clear.

You turn the sink off and unravel the top from its scrunched-up form, flapping it a few times to prevent creases.

"That should do it. Okay, let's go back downstairs. Hyuck bet ten dollars I couldn't beat him in beer pong and I'm going to make him eat his wor-"

Your rambling is cut off as soon as you turn toward the boy on the edge of the tub. He's staring at you with misty eyes, and you can't stop yourself from taking a step closer.

"Jeno?" you call, leaning down to meet him at eye level.

Eyes twinkling with mirth, you lower yourself into a crouching position, and your hand finds its place on his knee. You let your fingers drum on the fabric of his black jeans, musing your wonder.

"You're drunk, aren't you? How much have you had to drink?"

The action is mindless, and Jeno knows it. The two of you often shared small, habitual touches—but this time, it's wholly different.

"I'm- I'm not drunk," he croaks out.

A light-hearted snicker. "Sure you aren't."

"I'm not."

"Then why is your face so red?"

"I'm just... thinking about something."'

An amused chuckle leaves your mouth before you muse your wonders, "You're drunk, Jen. But, would you care to share?"

Jeno feels himself unclicking the locks. "Okay," he huffs out nervously.

The iron gates swing slightly ajar.

"I'm thinking about how I would do anything for you."

A pause goes by. The sound of the music downstairs seems to have gotten even louder, to the point where Jeno can't hear his own breathing. He wonders if he's even still breathing as his gaze rests on you intensely, waiting for your reaction.

When your fingers stop drumming against his knee, Jeno's world stops.

"O-oh."

Your expression is indecipherable as his words sink in, eyes growing rounder and your lips part.

Your eyes dart around Jeno's face to see if you can locate a trace of playfulness, a hint that he wasn't thinking straight—and while his flushed, rosy cheeks are a telltale that he's a little intoxicated, his eyes are heavy with sincerity.

He's being serious, and it brings you to a loss for words.

"A-and? What did you conclude?" you manage to stutter out, peering up at him.

This is exactly what he was afraid of. Afraid of your disappointed expression, your lips ready to utter the inevitable words he wished he'd never have to hear.

He's not even sure what those words exactly are, because Lee Jeno feels like a fucking mess right now, but he'll know in a few seconds after you say them—

"I... I don't really know why..."

A lightbulb clicks in your head. You seem to realize Jeno's implications before he even does himself.

"Jeno?" you prompt, voice feather-soft.

The boy's eyes are screwed shut by now, unable to look you in the eyes. He's trying to lock the gates closed again, as they were for so long.

"Hmm?" he weakly hums.

"I love you."

Jeno's attempts are futile. The thought is victorious.

It pushes past his regret-driven efforts. It floods his head akin to a raging tsunami.

It's so loud. The music in the background is so loud.

You are so loud. Your eyes, your grip on his knee, your words—

—they're so loud.

She just said she loves me.

"I've loved you for so long. Do you love me too?" you whisper, hand subconsciously reaching for his.

It shocks Jeno how his voice doesn't fail him. "You love me?"

"I do."

"M-more than a friend?"

"Much more. I love you like I'll never have you, even if I always find myself in your arms," you say, letting out a dry chuckle as a small smile graces your face.

"Do you love me too?" you repeat.

The gates snap off their hinges from the sheer force, and the thought chants a victory song—

You're in love with her!

Jeno blinks.

I'm in love with her.

Jeno never seemed to mind, when it came to you. He never seemed to mind wearing your light blue skinny jeans for you, and he never seemed to mind looking out of place with his grungy demeanor inside of a delicate perfume section either. He never seemed to mind waking up at an ungodly hour for you, and he never seemed to mind holding you when the world was against you.

And as you look at him, your face glimmering underneath the dim, bathroom light—it clicks.

Jeno suddenly realizes why he'd be willing to do anything for you. He'd be willing to get you the moon and the stars if you asked, because he loves you.

And, because you deserve it. It's the least he could do for you for loving him.

Reaching out a wavering hand, Jeno gently pulls you up from your crouching position so the both of you could stand. Your gaze never leaves him, your previous question still hanging in the air.

The boy rests his hand delicately on your jaw. His eyes glaze over your face, taking in your beautiful features before landing on your lips with a shaky exhale.

"Do you love me too?" you ask for a third time, your irises shining with hope.

"Fuck," he breathes out. "I- I do. I love you, so much."

You don't even get the chance to beam at his confession before he closes the distance between the two of you, his soft lips against yours.

[madwomansapologist]

YOU LOVE BLOOD TOO MUCH (BUT NOT LIKE I DO)

★彡 synopsis: awakened in a new era, sukuna found endless opportunities to hurt and maim others. he also found you, a sorcerer with an ever-expading soul bonded to oaths of pacifism and self-control. allured by the strength you decided to hide, sukuna realized this era could be far more fascinating.

chapter three: the first night or the one ryomen sukuna contemplated suicide.

warnings: ryomen sukuna being a bully, thoughts about violence, he isn't beating the flower lover allegations, a bit of hurt/comfort (c'mon yuji deserves a hug), cannibalism thoughts once more, tw human earthworm.

word count: [1,8K]

kill count: [0]

“Their blood will warm your hands”, his mocking echoed in the empty dorm. The large room felt smaller. “I’ll keep their heads intact for you to stare at their dim eyes.”

Yuji bit his tongue, tasting a bit of iron. He forced himself to concentrate solely on taking his clothes out from his backpack. It was hard. For the first time in his life, smoothing clothes he didn’t fold well enough was the best thing to do. The less annoying, too.

Ryomen Sukuna. A strong and arrogant imaginary demon, as Gojo-sensei explained earlier. Yuji witnessed firsthand the King of Curses’ unending taste for bloodshed—a heart stopped beating in his hands last night.

Yuji knew better than answering those constant provocations. What difference could it made? Not when his new roommate had no real power to hurt him. Not when this is all his fault. Not when Yuji fears those shallow threats may prove themselves not so shallow.

But no wit or willpower could make Yuji ignore a mouth ripping into his palm. “And don’t forget, brat, that it all will be your fault.”

After the slap, silence came. Except, it wasn’t after. The mouth disappeared on its own accord the moment before Yuji slapped his hand. The silence wasn’t his doing. There was no fulfillment in it.

Arguing with him is pointless, Yuji tried to convince himself. He knew it was the truth. Sukuna threatened to massacre, tried to eat a human heart, promised to kill his teachers. If a part of him feels guilt, it’s a really silent one. Then why am I not convinced?

Yuji kneeled down on the floor to grab his uniform, and the act felt too much like admitting defeat. Maybe it was. After all, confronting Sukuna only resulted in pain. But that’s fine. As long as Yuji is the only in pain, he doesn’t mind.

His frustrated silence made Sukuna rejoice.

A host for something greater. A weak receptacle that hasn’t earned respect. A walking dead body. That’s all the brat is. Sukuna will remind him of that at every change he gets, a promise he’s more than willing to keep.

The kid thinks having control over this body makes him untouchable and fails to comprehend how profane it is for him to keep on breathing. Unless this decadent era made them weak and stupid, sorcerers all across the country know about Ryomen Sukuna’s return. And they’re all terrified of it. Who wouldn’t be?

Control won’t protect him. The only thing that someone can always rely on is strength, and that the boy lacks immensely. His mentors won’t be near all the time, and because of them Sukuna understood there is friction between sorcerers and those in command. It won’t take long until control isn’t enough.

Does the weakling even understand his situation? If this world remembers his titles, then every sorcerer knows this peaceful era will be destroyed. Curses, humans, sorcerers: they all died the moment Ryomen Sukuna reincarnated.

Nothing will survive because nothing can stop the King of Curses, but anyone could kill this brat. He can bite his tongue to not argue and fear being the reason for someone’s death, but Sukuna knows it will be sorcerers to send the boy to his death. A wrong shot, a stupid move, and Yuji Itadori will bargain.

I’ll give you anything, Sukuna can almost hear his cries, taste his tears.

I want everything, Sukuna is ready to respond.

Except there is an obstacle. Someone that should’ve died. Someone smart enough to understand he would take full advantage of the boy’s naivety, valiant enough to restrain his possible movements for the near future, arrogant enough to do it with a smile.

A knock and the boy moved from the floor. He took a deep breath, forcing a smile to spread on his face. With the door unlocked, your silky voice and lily perfume reached them both.

“Good. You’re still awake”, you sighed. Showing him the box in your hands, Yuji’s smile became a bit more genuine. It made Sukuna want to puke. “I got you a few things.”

The boy took a step back, allowing you into his dorm. You dared to smile. Passing by them, the fluidity of your soul made Sukuna’s flesh crawl. The stupid boy assumed you were a monk, Sukuna don’t think you could ever be one. A fervid torment. That’s what you are.

Closing the door, Yuji looked at the wall and became aware of how embarrassing his poster was. “Are you still working, sensei? It’s super late.”

“I’m staying on my old dorm for a few weeks, my house is under renovation”, you put the box on a desk. You were right, Yuji only brought his clothes. And that poster. “Most days, I work until 2am, so consider this a deserved break.”

Yuji came closer, sneaking a glance inside the box. “You studied here too?”

“The director used to be my teacher.” Humidifier, bed sets, table lamp, towels, pillows, trash can: you placed everything on his bed and leaned against the table. “Talking about Yaga, did he hurt you a lot?”

“I’m fine, sensei! No worries. Thank you. For everything.”

You cocked an eyebrow. Crushing the box between you thumb and index, you transformed it into a one-inch cardboard ball. “If you need me, feel free to knock on my door. Goodnight, Itadori.”

He opened the door for you, hand stiff against the knob. You passed by Yuji, fingers tracing lightly at his knuckles. A heartbeat later, all of his hidden injuries were gone. “Sleep well, tough boy.”

“I meant it”, Yuji rubbed his hands. Sitting on the bed, he started fiddling with your gifts. His defeat diminished, giving place to a twisted gratitude. Sukuna considered biting you once more. “Thank you.”

Your hand lingered on the knob. There is so much you need to do, but there you were watching Yuji’s light withering. You imagine no one can escape a lonely night. Not on their own, that is.

You took a step back, tilting your head to check the hallway. Megumi was still awake hence the shadows moving through the doorway. Looking at your phone, you faced once more the fact it was late late and you have much to do

“Or would you rather watch a movie?” It wasn’t an empty offer; one you silently hoped Yuji would decline. You meant it. This kid is worth accumulating some work.

Yuji faced you, eyes widening as his energy suddenly came back. He didn’t bother pretending it wouldn’t be a nightmare to spend the night alone—with Sukuna. “Can we?”

“Fushiguro is awake”, you said. “He slept all day to recover.”

Yuji knocked on Megumi’s door until he opened it. Eyes small and hair damp, it took Megumi a moment to take off his headphone. The way Yuji smiled gave him chills. Something bad was about to happen.

“I was trying to sleep”, Megumi muttered.

“With that loud music?” Yuji taunted. Megumi said nothing in response. After all, the three of them were listening to Evanescence. “Let’s watch a movie, Fushiguro! You don’t have anything better to do, right?”

“Tea for you, popcorn for us”, you decided. Walking away, you threw Megumi your keys. “Don’t waste my time with a boring movie.”

In an instant, you were gone. Megumi took a deep breath, gesturing for Yuji to follow him. “You weren’t annoying her, right?”

“I wasn’t, Fushiguro”, said Yuji. “I’m polite.”

As they crossed the campus dependencies, Sukuna perceived the residuals of different cursed energies. Some recent, some about to disappear. He saw amulets at every amenity, seals on the training grounds and classrooms, felt different barriers beneath the earth. It all smelled like Tengen.

There are things time can’t change. Sorcerers intruding his plans, weaklings displaying underserved courage, Tengen adding a touch of rot into anything she does. Or is it a he now? Not that it matters, they always stink the same.

Once the darkhaired sorcerer unlocked a wide door, another presence overwhelmed Sukuna’s senses. Dense residuals, tart and menacing. Your cursed energy is nothing like your soul.

Sukuna wonders how your technique feels like. You can use weapons, reverse cursed technique, tolerate fatal wounds. Still, you haven’t attacked him with everything you have. What sort of damage can your own hands do? Can you entertain him for long enough?

It won’t matter. Sukuna might taunt you, drenched in the warm blood of the blindfolded sorcerer, and allow your battle to last more than a couple seconds to drink on your fear and rage. At the end, killing you will be easy and forgettable, a disappointment just like every other dispute.

 Every sorcerer with impressive positive energy forgets how simple it’s to defeat them. Cursed energy comes from the gut: one doesn’t feel anger in their toes or jealousy with their eyes. Heal yourself all you want, ignore the loss of a heart, but positive energy still comes solely from the brain.

And Sukuna’s specialty is cutting meat.

It’s convenient, really. That your blood tastes so good. Eating is a privilege of the living, and that Sukuna will demonstrate to you by finally sinking his teeth into your heart. He hopes your meat doesn’t disappoint him too.

“She calls this a dorm?” Yuji whistled. As he sat on the couch, Megumi turned the lights on. “This place is huge.”

“What movie should I put?” Megumi sat with the remote control on his hands, searching for something interesting. He frowned as if it was a life-or-death situation. “Do you like terror?”

Yuji walked around the living room, not touching anything but wanting to. Tall stacks of books besides your already filled bookcase, sealed dagger and axes on the kitchen counter, lavender incense burning near bloodstained yukatas.

On a sash, Yuji noticed a symbol. One that you wore earlier too. “What does that beetle on sensei’s robes means?”

 “It’s a scarab, Itadori”, Megumi explained. Yuji took the control from his hands, searching for something fun. “The sigil of the Minamoto clan.”

Yuji put on a movie and paused. “Can I ask you something?”, he whispered. After Megumi nodded, he leaned closer. “Why Gojo-sensei called her a monster? Are they really friends?”

Megumi sighed. Of course he did that. “She’s been called that since her birth.”

“But why?”

“She wasn’t supposed to be alive”, Megumi hesitated. “There are rumors. Too many rumors. That her mother did everything to abort. Surgeries, teas, hairpins. Sensei wasn’t supposed to be born. I don’t know the whole story.”

“So that’s why I sneezed.” The two boys jumped in place, but all you did was laugh. You placed a tray with popcorn bowls and a teapot on the coffee table. “What movie are we watching?”

It took Yuji a moment to breath again. “Earthworm man.”

That night, Yuji had fun meanwhile everyone else in your house considered suicide as a viable option.

all rights reserved to © madwomansapologist

[erlie]

M/M Books, part 2

As promised, more M/M books with happy endings

EWB: Enemies with Benefits by N.R. Walker

As the title says but of course they end up as lovers. The start is little rough but that might be because these two actually hate each other at first, unlike in so many enemies to lovers. Smutty, lightly kinky.

A Rival Most Vial: Potioneering for Love and Profit by R.K. Ashwick

Cozy low stakes fantasy. Like coffee shop AU but with potions. Absolutely adorable, makes you giggle and kick your feet. If you liked Legends & Lattes, this is for you. Might be little spicy? Can't remember.

All for the Game -series by Nora Sakavic (on going) The Foxhole Court / The Raven King / The King's Men / The Sunshine Court

These are not happy books. While the first trilogy does end well, the ride there is ROUGH. But it is a heart wrenching story of found family, trust, trauma and overcoming your past and upbringing.

Mind the content warnings, THERE ARE MANY. These can and will veer slightly into misery porn but if you can handle that, go forth!

10 Things That Never Happened by Alexis Hall

This on the other hand is very happy and so stupid, in the best way. Fake amnesia and forced proximity with obvious hijinks. This does require reader some suspension of disbelief (because one can NOT throw a company wide christmas party WITH CATERING in LONDON, two days before christmas.) but you are so fuzzy and warm that its okay.

The Green Creek -series by TJ Klune Wolfsong / Ravensong / Heartsong / Brothersong

Do you love werewolves but do not really enjoy ABO dynamics? Can you stomach some pseudo science regarding wolf packs and alphas? Good news, this series is incredible! It will make you cry and curse 'stupid sexy werewolves'. Klune is my favorite author and this is my favorite book series, I can not recommend it enough.

Big Bad Wolf -series by Charlie Adhara The Wolf at the Door

More werewolves without ABO? Here you go! Adhara's werewolf books are solidly very good, hot and also have pretty good crime solving. Two grumps try to solve a crime and one of them might or might not be a suspect!

I can also recommend the Monster Hunt spin-off series.

The Turners series by Cat Sebastian The Ruin of a Rake / The Lawrence Browne Affairs

Historical romance all the way! Cat Sebastian is always reliable on this front so pretty much all of her books are good. I did not add the first book of the series here, because I liked it less than these two, but it still a solid read! Warning for period typical homophobia but is very minor and all of these obviously have happy endings. Spicy.

In Other Lands by Sarah Rees Brennan

This book took me by a surprise. I had very different expectations for this and it just threw them in the trash. If you want that Hogwarts-ish feeling without transphobia, this scratches that itch! Also some brilliant trope reversals and you have to on occasion face some uncomfortable feelings yourself. And the romance is very adorable. Not spicy.

Cemetary Boys by Aiden Thomas

Sometimes you accidentally summon a ghost and it won't go away and then you fall in love with him. Happens to everyone. Very good read about family, gender and acceptance. Transman as a main character. Not spicy.

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4

[chouxsardine]

Mariner's Complex -- Jake Kiszka x reader

Summary: "Look for the lighthouse when you are lost, it will always bring you home. May the light in your soul guide you, may the love in your heart keep you strong." -- Jake is nervous before going on stage. You know just the right way to calm his nerves.

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x reader

Word Count: 2532

Warnings: 18+! minors be gone, mention of alcohol, mention of anxiety, public sex, unprotected penetrative sex, soft Jake (please let me know if I missed any!)

Genre: Smut, hurt/comfort (kind of)

Author's note: This piece is inspired by the gif above. I am smitten upon seeing it. This is my first time writing smut. It's about vulnerability, about receiving and giving love, lots of love. It is my fictional way of hoping that Jake is reminded of being one of the best guitarists out there and that he is loved by us. Deepest thanks to the wonderful @sacredjake for beta reading and for inspiring and encouraging me to pick up writing and post this. Please do yourself a favor and read her works; they're awesome beyond words. Enjoy!!

🎧: songs that pair nice with this piece: Lost at Sea by Lana Del Rey and Rob Grant; Mariners apartment complex by Lana Del Rey (can you tell I'm bad at titles now?)

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There’s just something about the air in the stadium before the concert; it feels like with every inhale, it immediately turns into adrenaline. With its graininess accentuated, one can almost sense the atoms buzzing in the air, like a shoal of sardines forming a bait ball, enclosing him, a cyclone where he is the eye. Is this what Josh means when he writes “carbon dancing through time” ?

His mind is racing a million miles a second; it’s like hoping onto a car with broken brakes, he’s bound to hit something in the hazardous terrain——

Knock knock. “Jake?”

As if someone pulled the switch, he is snapped back to reality. He immediately recognizes the voice of his lover. The sweetest sound in the world. His shoulder visibly relaxes, the corner of his mouth turning up, and his heart feels tender. He has always appreciated this—forever so considerate and thoughtful, always respecting his privacy even though they have already been together for so long.

“Come in!”

As expected, his lover’s face came into view, the familiar smile.

“I got you the salad you wanted!” You said, raising the white plastic bags in your hands.

You can tell he is anxious the moment you push open the door. Years of a committed relationship must have formed some kind of telepath between you two. You can almost sense it in the air. Is it a thing though? Like the service dogs that can smell it when their owner’s heart is beating too fast. Well, you know someone’s heart is certainly racing now.

You can’t quite figure out where his anxiety is coming from. They boys are at the middle leg of this tour. Is it from the traveling? Or maybe it has to do with his string snapping during soundcheck earlier? Or it could just be his brain playing tricks on him. And you respect that, even amazed or amused because you know it’s from the very same place where all the amazing melodies and witty remarks are born.

You spotted the glass on the vanity. Amber liquid barely covering its bottom, corresponding to the proportionate empty space in the newly-opened bottle of whiskey right next to it. You know Jake is never one to get plastered before going on stage. The alcohol is just a pacifier for his nerves. You follow his gaze to the white roses sitting in the vase. He’s remained quiet all this time, not even trying to hide his feelings, only giving you a smile through his reflection in the mirror. The comfortable silence hangs mellowly like willow branches, a mute radiation of his trust and vulnerability.

You set the bag aside and squat down in front of him, thumb brushing the back of his hand. You know better than to ask questions like “are you okay”. You know that right now your physical presence is already a comfort for him. You’d rather let him take the lead for the rest.

Jake tilts up your chin—a silent cue for kisses. You happily oblige, feeling his lips forming a smile upon contact with yours. He releases a contented sigh, pulling back after a moment. “I’ve missed you.”

“Yeah? You’ve got me now.” Now sitting across his lap, your hand rests gently on his cheek. Jake immediately leans into your touch like a cat, turning his head and pressing kisses into your palm.

“They already double-checked it. I’ll ask them to pay extra attention before the show starts, just to make sure.” You said, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear, revealing the little hoop dangling.

Jake hums, knowing you are referring to the snapped string earlier. Stupid mistake. His throat feels dry, “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I——”

“Shh,” you give him a peck on the lips, “none of that. You don’t have to explain anything. Those feelings are valid. And they are temporary.”

Then a brilliant idea strikes you.

“We’ll take a walk, alright?”

“Here?” He cocks his head in slight confusion.

He immediately recognizes that you are giving him a taste of his own medicine. Well, in a good way. He knows you are talking about one of those “mental health walks” that he proposes when you are engulfed by the noises inside your head. But the backstage is not street gardens or some hiking trials in a park, how will that work?

“Yeah, you have time. Right?”

There’s indeed at least a good half an hour before the last sound check. He can’t argue with you. By the way, when were he ever able to say no to your invitations? This little genius mind of his lovers, constantly conjuring up the most amusing and endearing words and ideas like the hat of a magician. With a resigned smile, he caves in, placing his hands in yours.

“Come on, up you get, you lazy butt.” You step back and pull on his arm.

“Hey, you love this butt!” He protests in feigned grievance.

“Yup, can’t deny it’s a nice one.” You jokingly smack his ass as you follow him out of the dressing room, feeling happier hearing his banter, seeing him slowly getting back to himself. He’ll get there, you will make sure of it.

The corridors are generally quiet around this time, allowing the artists to rest before the real frenzy starts. Occasionally, stage crews pass by, rolling equipments boxes down the hall. You two swiftly move out of their way, hand in hand, strolling as if window shopping in the mall. You are entertaining Jake with a funny little incident you saw on your way to buy him food.

“You should’ve seen it, really,” you snort out a laugh recalling the scene, “that poor lady is struggling so hard and the shopping cart is just running away from her, loaded with two cases of Guinness!”

Jake is laughing with you, slightly shaking his head in disbelief. You turn to admire his profile, the apple of his cheek rising, the wrinkle to his nose deepening, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. There’s nothing you love more than seeing Jake smile and laugh, it never fails to create that fizzy feeling in your heart, like a bubble approaching the surface of a cream soda.

Having jumped out of your storytelling, your attention diverts back to the feeling of Jake’s arm snaking around your waist. Now his hands are sliding up your sides, from the small of your back to the sweet spot on your flank.

He turns to look at you. Upon meeting his gaze, you immediately pick up the implicit plea. His caramel eyes full of admiration, the edge of his iris grows fuzzy. His eyelashes flutter as his gaze falls to your lips.

You cover the distance between you with a kiss. This one is different from the one in the dressing room. The tip of his tongue tickles your bottom lip with small licks before him pulls back a bit and mutters under his breath, “Want you, want to be close to you.”

Once again, you are more than willing to indulge.

It’s just so convenient that you happened to be near the corner where a pilaster protrudes enough to hide you from the passersby. As your back hits the wall, your fingers are already tangled in Jake’s hair, holding him close. You are circled by him, his freshly applied cologne lingers, now well adapted to his skin, bergamot wrapping the hidden notes of pepper and cedar. Jake kisses along your jawline and traces downwards, creating a dotted line of kisses across your breasts and hovering over your navel. His hands tugging on the waist of your pants. As he unzips it smoothly, he dives back in with more kisses, nibbling on the material of your underwear.

“No,” you mumble, tugging on his elbow motioning him to stand up, “I want you in me.” You loved it when he goes down on you, but not now. Now you need it to be about him, you know he needs it too.

There is a halt in his movement, suddenly his eyes a shade darker.

“Yes, let it out, Jake.” You hold your forehead against his, making sure he hears every word certain and clear. Whatever it is, a much-needed release, a claim of territory, an outlet of his bundled nerves. “Use me. Fuck me.”

“You’re gonna be the death of me.” Jake sucks in a breath.

You smirk, tilting your head back against the wall and surrendering more of your body to his arms. Jake’s hands on your thighs cover the coolness of your skin as your pants pool around your ankles. His knuckles tracing your heat through the fabric, the ghostly touch making you squirm.

“Please, Jake.” You loop your arms around his neck, raising up a leg pressing it into the side of his waist.

“So wet for me already, angel.” With frantic eagerness, he takes out his length and pulls your underwear aside. Your slickness draws his hard cock inside as he bottoms out in one firm and steady thrust. Jake was looking down as he enters you, his eyebrows creased in concentration, eyelashes throwing shadows under his eyes. He never fails to marvel at the way your bodies connect, it catches him in awe every time no matter how many times you have fucked, just as you are exploring each other’s bodies for the first time. When his gaze meets yours again, it’s like moonlight spilling behind clouds. You are the only object of his vision.

“Yes!” You mouth silently as he starts moving, him picking up the pace almost instantly as if placed in a running wheel. Jake’s head nuzzles into the crook of your neck, hot breath radiating and him lapping up at whatever area of skin he comes in contact with. His arm goes under your knee and finds leverage on the wall, the other hand holding onto your pelvis, pinning you in place. The rough texture of the brick wall rubs against your back along each shudder, magnifying the titillation deep inside you.

You feel like with each thrust his insecurity and anxiety ebbs away like the snaky morning fog, replaced by his confidence and charming self: the one you know will work his magic on stage tonight just like ever, the one that will make the entire stadium shake and roar just by his fingers moving across six strings, the one that proves both to the world and to himself again and again that “it could be done”.

You can feel him swell and twitch against your walls, you squeeze you thighs and clench, knowing he’s getting close. The spasms of his cock tickling that particular spot to the point of no return, the ecstasy washing over you like a cascade. The whines and screams rolling and tumbling in your chest like a pot of boiling water, threatening to jump out of your mouth. You roll your eyes back and swallow them down, releasing only one suppressed moan of “let go, baby” against Jake’s ear, and that is enough to send him over the edge.

With one jerk of his body, he cums hard. You can feel the additional thickness of his release almost dripping down your crotch. Jake’s whole weight falls towards you with the hunch of his shoulders. His chest presses firmly against your body, its rise and fall teasing your still hard nipples.

You hold his head against your chest as he comes down from the high, fingers brushing away the naughty strands of hair that have flown into the corner of his mouth and stuck to his cheek.

“As much as I would like to stay here forever, you really have to get going. They must be looking for their rockstar everywhere.” You chuckle while shimmying out of your rumpled underwear, using it to clean up.

“Damn.” Jake leans back against the wall as he watches you, still on cloud nine and short of words. For a moment, all he can do is look at you.

“Stop staring.” You nudge him, unable to stop blushing facing his caramel eyes filled with unadulterated adoration. You bet if you could reach into them, you would find a handful of stars. Plus, Jake looks exceptionally beautiful post-fuck, the upturn at the corners of his mouth accentuated the curve of his cupid’s bow. The smug smirk is counterbalanced by the rosy blush on his cheekbones, a tell-tale sign of his satiated desire. Good. That’s what you’d expected and what you’d like to see.

Jake cups your face in both of his hands as he leans in for a kiss. This time, almost childish, his pouted lips pepper all over, the bilabial “mwah” is especially pronounced, causing you to giggle again.

“Quite the walk, huh?” You insinuate.

“Well, now I prefer to call it the ‘mental health fuck’,” Jake slowly straightens his back, resembling a cat stretching after a content nap. “Catch you on the flip side, my love.”

He was already a couple of strides away when he rushes back to kiss you again, catching you in surprise. Aggressive and fervent in his actions, but oh so gentle when his mouth meets yours. This is the type of kiss where he takes the lead, and you are completely at his mercy. The tip of his nose brushes against yours, and his teeth softly bite your lower lip. It’s a kiss that steals your breath and your heartbeat away for tits entirety . “You know you are my lighthouse, yeah?” He stares right into your eyes, his voice low and husky. “ You always guide me back when I’m lost at sea. My Leucothea, my Lady of Luck.”

You feel a lump in your throat, and every word goes straight to your heart. The feelings there are so overwhelming that they rise and swell like tidal waves. It;s so much love that it makes you want to cry.

“Gosh, Jake, such the poet.” That all you manage to say.

“Because you’re my muse, my angel,” Jake smiles again as he steps back one last time. “And now it’s time for me to set sail again, yeah?”

“Aye aye,” you blow him a kiss, “Fair Winds, Captain.”

You watch as he leaves. The Starcatcher symbol on his back standing tall and proud. The crystal embellishments on his jacket scintillate, jet crystals and glass beads shimmers, reflecting the lights like a thousand stars falling onto his shoulders. He is the warrior that breaks their fall, wearing them proud as a crystal armour. You watch as he marches forward, carrying on his shoulders the weight of dreams. Your dearest rocker, the bravest captain.

For Jake, the atoms are still buzzing, but now he can feel them moving rhythmically, like the joyful wings of a hummingbird or the secret dance of bees. They delivering a yet undecipherable but nonetheless auspicious message. Soon he will be going on stage, carrying a heart full of love from his lover, so he can give all his love to his fans out there. And he knows if he looks, he will find you among the crowd, a cluster of flame, a powerhouse of love.

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Thank you so much for reading!! :) any comments and feedbacks are greatly welcomed and deeply appreciated.

The description of Jake's jacket is heavily relied on this post

kudos to who spotted the TLSP reference hehe

If you are in need of some fluff, feel free to check out my another Jake pieces: Permission to Fall || Ticked (all my boxes) || Love is a four-legged word || The Lucky Ones

[cumironi]

WELCOME HOME: ITADORI YUJI, YUTA OKKOTSU

your feet move faster each second passing by because of the nervousness. until the door swings open and a soft muffled sound can be heard— become clear after a few moments. they don't get much of a chance to react before their body get slammed by love, by you.

content warning: just nothing but fluff! spoiler alert! mentioned of death.

requested by @kissyhalik

again, I'm not doing my best with this one but it is still enjoyable

countless nights and days, you start to lose count at three and can no longer remember where the last one you're at— now maybe you're at ten, or seven, maybe twenty, you're not sure. missing your two lovers makes your head fuzzy and the tip of your finger becomes numb because losing touch of your boyfriends, the scents won't linger in the room for more days leaving you anxious. their sweater doesn't feel warmth anymore, even the smell feels like dust and sun more than theirs.

sitting there in bed you start to become eager to feel their skin on your body— warmth and comfort. your feet move faster each second passing by because of the nervousness. until the door swings open and a soft muffled sound can be heard— become clear after a few moments. they don't get much of a chance to react before their body get slammed by love, by you. a little laugh leaves the pink-haired boy after he takes a moment to realize. while the other standing there looking at you with fondness in his black eyes. his hand holding your waist, prevent you from pulling away, his actions got mirrored by your other boyfriend.

“easy there,” the other one, softly spoke.

“you miss us, princess?”

kisses by kisses touch their face, leaving a ticklish stain on their skin. you can't stop yourself, the feeling of missing them is too unbearable. they spend too many days on a mission leaving you alone to wonder when they're going to come home, to you. and the knowledge of them trying to kill each other doesn't ease you even e bit. a fit of giggles filled the room as you kept on going— refusing to surrender.

your hands find their way to the two boys' waist, pull them closer and hug them tightly to the point they're forced to pick you up and bring you to the bed, laying there— sandwiching your body between the large two frames after they strip from their uniforms, leave with nothing but their black boxer— yuji by your right and yuta on the other side. “i miss you,” you whispered and kissed the black-haired boy, locking your hands behind his neck. lips softly touched yours, moving slowly with a romantic rhythm. “i miss you too, baby,” he held your cheeks, titling your head before sticking his tongue a little and you followed, mimicking his actions. tongue touched before he deepened the kiss. his hands wrapped around your waist and at the same time, yuji's hands wrapped around your waist also from behind.

their tangled with your bare one. yuji tufted down the string of your tank top— trying to get more comfortable kissing your neck and shoulder. yuta's tongue swirls and intertwines with yours before he pulls away for him to leave a soft peck on your lips. a giggle could be heard when yuji bites your neck in tiny craving your attention as much as yuta does. so you turn to face him, meeting with his clouded eyes. “give me a kiss too,” he pouted. he put his half body in the air with one hand to keep him steady. you smile, “come here baby,” you chuckle. you grab him by the neck gently before pressing your lips onto his. he parrots your moves and pulls you closer with hands holding your cheek. your hands roam around his bare chest, hungry to feel his hard abs on your palm.

you can feel yuta put his hands inside your tanktop, seeming eager to feel your warmth on his skin. soft kisses on your shoulder and neck, giving you a bite in tiny. “always smells so good,” he mumbled on your skin. yuji tilted his head before sneaking his tongue inside your mouth, touching your teeth before finding its way to your tongue. his thumb softly caresses your cheek before running his hands down to your chest, squeezing your boobs in gentle. he sucking on your tongue, leaving you all giddy and numb. your hands run to his soft pink locks before tug it in gentle. a soft moan could be heard.

he pulls away, hot breath touches your face as he looks at you with eyes half open. he licks your swollen lips before giving you a few tiny pecks while giggling in the process. “welcome home, baby,” you whispered in his lips, kissing it for a few seconds before pulling away, also leaving a kiss on yuta's forehead. “i'm home with you,” he too, whispered. you stay like that for a while, looking at each other, just admiring and drown in each other comfort and warmth.

you feel content, now the room has started to filled with their scents, something you've been longing for, for a while. “god, i miss you so much, do you know how hard it is for me to be away from you doing all that stupid mission?” he brooded. eyes rolled and a heavy sight showed his annoyedness. “i miss you too, i don't think I could go on another day without you, especially after i found out from megumi that you tried to kill each other,” you said, briefly looking at yuta. the special grade sorcerer cried, hiding his face in the crook of your neck.

his arms make a half circle around your waist before he pulls you closer until your back touches his board chest. he again makes a trace of his in your skin— kissing your shoulder softly. “you took ‘awake from the dead’ too seriously yuji,” you pinch his cheek. he takes your hands to give your palm a kiss before holding it, place your hands close to his heart.

“it's not my fault, yuta the one who's trying to kill me— well, he did kill me tho,” he grimaces. his brown eyes showing yuta reflection that keeps on hiding himself on your neck before looking at you. “you almost kill me too—” yuta, finally, he bring his face to look at you— a tinted of feeling offended shows on his face. “baby, he throws a car at me, a goddamn car—” he spoke, exaggerated each word before looking at you and yuji alternately. “what are you? a fucking hulk?” he asked and you laughed.

the sukuna's vessel pouted his lips, unhappy with the way yuta called him. “you're just mean,” he ended up saying, don't know what to say anymore. a heavy sigh can be heard from yuta. “i told you I'm sorry, i had to kill you, okay? the higher-ups—” before yuta got the chance to finish his sentence yuji already waving his hand, dismissed the boy from continuing. “yeah, yeah, I get it,” he said nonchalantly.

“wish i didn't bring you back to life,” yuta sigh.

“hey!”

again, you laugh. you miss your boyfriends too much and seeing them bickering with each other feels like bringing you back to life. just like that the three of you stay in bed all day, skin touch to each other, sharing kisses here and there, desperate to fill each other's soul.

[pauking5]

Runaway 🏎️ Chapter 1

Pairing: Naozumi Hiyama x fem reader oc

Synopsis: There's no place for women in the world of racing. Let alone rally. Until you show up - the daughter of a racing legend who lost everything out of nowhere - ready to stir the pot of competition and throw fuel to Naozumi's fire, burning wild in more than just one way. Just how far will you go to take your rightful place in the world of rally, restore the team to its glory and change things for the better?

Genre: racing AU, enemies to lovers, rivalry, suspense, a whole lot of teasing, gender power games, dating in secret

Word count: 4.5k+

A/N: Here it finally is. I can't believe I got to write about one of my passions in this way. Though I love rally, getting the technicalities right was rough but I researched as much as I could on it so it feels like the real thing, though there might be some minor inaccuracies, not really affecting the story.

This one has been in the works for a good period of time and though this first chapter is short and fast-paced, there's so much more coming. Trust the process cause god knows I do. I hope I can make Naozumi justice and I can't wait for you to read the next ones. Enjoy lovelies.

Now Playing: Edge of Seventeen - Wuki

Next Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

It's not about how fast you go.

It's about how long you go fast.

Fast like-

A knock reverberated against your helmet, interrupting the pre-race mantra before you even finished reciting it, bringing you back to the chaos prior to the race start. Chaos you wanted to avoid at all costs.

Blinking your eyes open, you took in the smell of burnt rubber and the atmosphere, fully packed with the deafening roars of the crowds in the stands soaring over the music heard all the way to your station. Another voice joined in the noise, demanding your attention.

"Raiko, are you ready?"

Letting out an exasperated breath, you waved off whoever spoke to you and closed your eyes again. "Give me a minute, will you?"

Okay, where was I?

It's not about how fast you go-

A drilling noise came from your right, annoying the living daylights out of you.

Ah, fuck it. Since we keep getting interrupted...

How about I tell you a little bit about me.

Name's Raiko Suruki.

Yes, that Suruki.

Here we go again.

I'm the daughter of the famed Hiro Suruki, five times Japan World Rally Championship winner, consecutively if I may add. Proud podium sitter for thousands of times. Also kind of a living legend of the primetime of the rally world.

The same Hiro Suruki that started one of the best teams in the history of Japanese rally, snatching six more titles under his directory. WRC'S Golden Boy.

After his personal fifth title, he decided he wanted something more. Something that would fulfill him, beside his love for driving at the most insane speeds known to man, and having his first and only child - that's me, in case you didn't know.

Anyway. Without any second thoughts or doubts, he retired from the sport out of nowhere, changing the fireproofs for the laid-back team principal shirt and a cheap very 'dad' baseball cap. At barely 35 years of age, he took the biggest leap of faith of his life and Suruki Racing was born out of fuel and passion for rally.

He poured everything he had into the team and built it from scratch, taking it so high in his prime that everyone wanted a piece of it. Be it driving in a seat for the team, changing parts as a mechanic or simply having shares in it.

It was basically the shit. The pinnacle of rally in the whole of Japan.

The team became a national sensation. So many influential people, from mere businessmen to politicians, even foreigners were so interested in it and helping it expand. It genuinely felt like the only way for him was up, flying like a rocket towards the legends' hall of fame.

It went like that for a while. He was beaming with happiness, unable to understand where all that luck came from. But like everything good, it didn't last. Once he started to question it all, it was like a switch flipped inwards and it all fell to ruins.

Everything started going wrong.

All of a sudden, the cars started missing parts the night before races. They had engine failures mid-race in almost every stage, followed by DNF's on every scoreboard. And those aren't even the most shocking things that happened. You name the tragedy and it definitely happened to Suruki Racing at one point in disastrous, life-changing, career-ending type of things.

The mess piled up more and more, and it showed, despite dad's efforts to stay afloat. Contract deals with sponsors started falling through, losing funding for a lot of parts and investments in equipment. Then the drivers got fed up with the constant failed races and blamed the car or the team if they felt like it. They terminated their contracts way before their terms were up under the pretense that they wanted different things... which were not related to Suruki Racing. The mechanics chose to stay, a few of them anyways, but it wasn't nearly enough to keep going.

The team ripped at the seams and slowly but surely ran into the ground and dad couldn't find at least one reason why it happened. It was like a curse you couldn't get rid of and I saw it happen first-hand.

The late nights he would spend in the garage trying new parts that kept failing with every test on the car. The way he would go as low as begging the drivers to come back offering them money he didn't have because no driver, rookie or experienced, didn't even bat an eye once the name of the team was mentioned.

Lost, penniless and with a heavy heart, he had to sit and watch the one thing he loved the most on earth rust away little by little, no matter what he would do to prevent it.

Mom called it karma for his reckless racing days because as talented as he was, the road forgives no one. That you can be God's favourite and still lose everything. And he didn't want to understand that. He never did.

I was too young to help back then. Too young to understand what Suruki Racing meant to him. Too young to do the only thing I could do to save it.

Until now.

So, let's try that again, shall we?

Name's Rai Suruki, driver for Suruki Racing 2.0.

Another knock to your helmet, echoing in your head louder than the first, brought you back to the real world for good this time. Mechanics rushed around you to finish the set up on the car before you were called up to take your spot in front of the race marshal, which from a quick glance at the scoreboard would be soon.

Looking to your left, you were met with a set of dull brown eyes, messy jet black hair, a funky moustache and an extremely creased forehead for his middle age, all belonging to your co-driver, Don Tanaka. He's another legend of the sport.

Former training coach for some of the current biggest teams in the WRC, with a CV of experiences surpassing most people that have been in rally for longer. On top of all that, he is an even bigger friend of your father's. When he called him up asking for an old favour to train you, he couldn't say no.

But if it was up to commenting, you'd say he was one of the biggest fools for giving up a lavish salary with so many perks for one favour, especially for your old fart of a father. Driving with him was great, but training with him was hell on Earth.

"I was doing my mantra," you reasoned, trying to get him off your case.

"Your mantra sucks."

He is an absolute joy to be around, isn't he?

"Well," you turned to him in your seat with a tight-lipped smile, "you're the one choosing to be co-driver to a young adult at your ripe age of 40. If I was you I would've picked something more calming, like gardening."

Bringing his hand to his chin in thinking, he sat in silence for a moment before he spoke.

"That doesn't sound so bad right now," he went on trying to push your buttons.

"Oh, shush," you waved him off, turning back to the wheel.

If there was one thing he liked doing, it was keeping you in check by poking fun at you. He was like that one uncle you could always go to with your secrets or to ask for extra pocket money, but in return he liked to tease the fuck out of you for it. Every. Single. Time.

As much as you hated his antics, you did kind of owe him a lot. He was the one who caught your talent for racing early on, back when you would drive plastic mini cars made from scraps around the team garage like you had years of experience. A few drifting maneuvers around old tires done like a pro at the cool age of 8, and he was sold on you and your potential.

Amongst all the teasing and the pain of having to train like a man, you've spent enough time with him to know you could count on him for literally anything. He was the best co-driver you could ask for and you wouldn't want anyone else in that seat directing your fate for the world.

He knew what it took to annoy you greatly in order to deliver on the dirt track and prove yourself. Especially now, since you were the only woman on highly occupied male territory.

Racing is a man's world. With as many female advancements in motorsport as there were today, the majority of the community was still not convinced that a woman could drive better than a man or even compete alongside a whole grid of their species. They can regard you, acknowledge your existence, but they would never accept you.

Your father knew your entry to the championship would stir up a lot of unwanted attention, besides the fact that he was basically reviving a cursed team and you happened to be the poster face for it this time around. It sounded like a catastrophe in the making.

Frankly, you were ecstatic to get to drive an actual race car outside of the junior series and helping the team get back to its rightful place, restoring its deserved glory. But you knew it wasn't going to be easy work. Especially, since public enemy number one - the press - was going to try and tear you to sparkly shreds for a lot of reasons. An attack that they started before any official information was out.

A few months ago, when the announcement of Suruki Racing's comeback after ten years of inactivity hit the WRC, the media had a field day with it.

They criticized your father for being a nutjob that didn't know when to quit. They smeared Don Tanaka's name like he didn't make most of the drivers currently selling their dying papers. They even tried to get paid scoops from anyone involved with the team in the slightest.

But the team had one wildcard left to play before pulling the curtains for good and giving them the satisfaction that they ruined it.

You.

The press didn't know about you. No one in the other teams knew about you. Thanks to your father's extremely private life, no one even knew of your existence. The only people that did were your team in the garage that saw your face every single day, from the mechanics to your personal PR agent.

Even walking into the circuit grounds this morning, long hair down over your shoulders, sporting the team gear in plain sight, no one batted an eye at you. Even if they did, they would think you were involved with technical or marketing - though even that was a rarity in this universe - or worse, just another groupie looking to get one of the drivers under your hood.

Your father wanted to give everyone a show they'll never forget by having you drive the first race in the calendar without a proper introduction. No car reveal. No interviews. No pre-race press conference. Just a car and its driver.

This way they would judge your driving before they actually got to judge you for being a woman at the wheel of a three hundred horsepower beast. He trusted you and your judgement on the track far more than the lousy press setting you up for fail. They would get a proper car show and speech after the race anyway. It was out of the ordinary but that kinda summed up Hiro Suruki and his bipolar personality.

The distorted sound of a megaphone, followed by the voice of the race marshal called you to the start line.

"Car 7, Rai Suruki for Suruki Racing, you're up next!"

You could already see everyone turning their eyes to your station, booming cheers going quiet, turning into sharp murmurs.

Time to get this show going.

Rolling up your windows to block the world, you put the car in gear and drove to the start line, waiting for the green light. Looking out at the lines in the road ahead of you spotting the first hazard ahead, the nerves climbed up your spine faster than your engine could pump the pistons for pressure.

You prepared for this for most of your life, but if you were being honest, it all got a little too real now, sitting with your foot hovering above the gas pedal ahead of the moment that could make or break your career before it even started. The very moment that could be a step forward to restoring your father's name, getting the team back on track in a new age of rally racing. The moment for a change.

No pressure, right?

"Raiko," your co-driver called your name, but you couldn't tear your eyes away from the road, gloved fingers tightening on top of the wheel with a small snap. "Do you remember the course?"

"Yes."

"Good. All set?"

"I think so."

"Raiko, look at me."

"You're not my style."

"Raiko," his voice turned more serious and deep with warning. With another sigh into the small, cramped space for breathing your helmet provided, you turned to him. "You've got this. Let's prove everyone wrong."

He was right. You could do this.

Let's prove everyone wrong.

The race marshal started the countdown, walking from the front of your car to the side, each number in the count descending with your nerves. You loosened the hold on the wheel, stretched your legs to the pedals and let out a deep breath.

"3."

It's not about how fast you go.

"2."

It's about how long you go fast.

"1."

Fast like lightning.

"GO!"

A soon as the lights went green, you hit the throttle and took off into the dirt, raising the dust behind you. You skidded off to the side a little due to the gravel but you got control of it before anyone could notice.

Tokai was a pretty difficult course to rally depending on which stages got picked for the day. More forest terrain gave way to hard roads, receding in wheel control, gaining insane suspension pressure. This one was more of an open valley terrain, which was a bit safer, but the later you got the okay to race, the more dust and gravel from other drivers would pile up in front of you, making visibility dangerously low. The corners were way too tight and one second off from Tanaka's directions or a mishap of your footing could cost you and put your car on the sidelines.

"5 left over crest," Tanaka paced you for the upcoming hill and you prepared to release the throttle.

"1 left 100."

Wheels back on the ground, you resumed pressing the pedal as a hairpin portion came into view. The cloud of dust in front of you was chalky and you had to get through it before it raised higher. Putting the car in second gear, you got ready for the drift portion. You had to be extra careful here. The mechanic in chief told you to go easy as the rear could send you into oversteer, throwing off the balance of the car and fuck up the race completely.

Listening to your gut, you waited for the right time then tapped the brake, cut the wheels and pressed the throttle, sliding across the portion. Loud cheers and whistles erupted as the crowd in the stands got up to watch you complete a perfect drift.

"3 right don't cut."

Reduce pace and prepare for a possible road hazard.

You slowed down and sure enough a bump in the road came up. If you missed that one and took it at 120 kmph, it would've projected you off the track, crashing the car hard into the rocky wall like a cereal box. Thankfully, you swerved around it, feeling the car lift off the ground on the left for a bit before it fell back down.

"6 right very long."

Hard left into a tight corner.

"Cut 8 left."

Tight corner requiring you to follow a straight line in the curb.

This was the last and worst corner on the track. You were lucky it didn't rain because this is where your car can skid off into the stands. You caught the straight line pretty fast, cutting a few seconds off your lap time without slowing down.

Following the rest of Tanaka's directions and focusing on the rest of the road, the race finished before you knew it. You liked the state you were in as you drove, mind clear of everything else because as soon as the adrenaline in your body decreased, your brain got bombarded by all kinds of issues.

Did I push the new suspensions too hard? God, I hope I didn't scratch the rear in the hairpin. Was my timing too off on that last corner? I should've practiced it more.

Driving back to your team's station, you sent all those worries at the back of your head and got out to watch the screen showing the score board just as it updated to display the new track times since you were the last to go.

1. Akira Shinkai - Sigma Racing Academy - 1.23.40

2. Naozumi Hiyama - Spica Racing Factory - 1.23.59

3. Rai Suruki - Suruki Racing - 1.24.25

"WE BAGGED THIRD PLACE?!" you yelled throwing off your helmet onto the car seat.

"WE SURE DID," Tanaka high fived you, beaming with energy just like you.

"That's 15 points on the first stage! Well done, lightning strike," he ruffled your hair as you snickered, nose scrunching up with a smile at the gesture you were already accustomed to.

"The car held up a lot better today than in testing. Maybe we lifted the curse," you wiggled your eyebrows at him at which he flicked your forehead. "Ow, what did you do that for?"

"Don't jinx it. We still have two more stages to go."

"But-"

Before you could say anything else, you were interrupted by angry shouting coming from the station next to you.

"I told you to not touch the third gear," yelled a strained voice.

You walked to the side of your station, peeking your head by the team banner, and watched the heated exchange between one of the drivers and his mechanic. Your eyes wandered to the car sitting in the middle, not one hand touching it for the regular post-race check up. From the different strokes of sky blue layered over stark white, the red and blue sponsor stickers and the carbon spoiler, you recognized it to be Spica Racing's.

"It doesn't matter now," shouted another voice, so annoyed and sure of themselves as if they owned the place. "I got a good lap record this time."

"What would you do if you had to retire in the middle of the race?" shot the mechanic, chastising the driver for being careless.

He got up in his face, towering over him though the other was much taller than him.

"We won't win if I don't attack!" he yelled back, throwing his hand in the air to make a point. "The moment I think of being scared I will lose. I won't make that mistake. So just do your job and fix the car."

With that final remark, he rounded the car to walk away from the station but his steps halt once he noticed you in the corner, now standing in full sight just at the line between your stations.

Quickly replacing the scowl on his face with what was probably his natural smirk, he came to you, stopping short of the barrier separating you.

"I don't do autographs, but for you I can do more than that," he says, flashing his extremely cocky smirk at you, adding a suggestive wink to go with the whole menu.

Ew.

Taking a small step back hoping his vibes wouldn't envelop you, you uncrossed your arms from your chest and lifted an eyebrow at him.

"I don't want your autograph."

Taken aback at your rejection, he backed up slightly too and looked you up and down, taking in your deep blue and dark gold team fireproofs and the suit tied messily around your waist. The old, way out of fashion colours seemed to ring a bell.

"Suruki Racing...," he starts doubtful, a little too focused on the writing littered over your left breast. "The shithole that revived from the ashes? Are you a mechanic, a co-driver or something for them? If you are, why don't you jump ships? I wouldn't mind having you on my team instead." He finished his speech of intent with another shit-eating grin.

Who the fuck is this guy?

The audacity that wafted off him must definitely make him popular with the ladies.

"I don't think we've met before," you extended your hand out to him, curt and polite, like a normal person would do, introducing yourself. "Rai Suruki, driver for Suruki Racing," emphasizing your role in the team so he got it through his head that you weren't some bimbo. If you were, you'd make sure your fist decorated his face in pretty red bruises before anything else.

He straightened back, smirk gone from his face in all sense of the word. It got replaced by some kind of curiosity. Looking between you and your palm hanging in the air he looked confused to say the least. He's heard about female racers before and seen some working in technical around the place, he's just never seen one stand against him on track.

Tired of being polite to someone who obviously has never heard about manners, you were about to retract your extended hand when he caught it in a firm grip and pulled it towards him, just holding it instead of shaking it. The move sent you forwards, almost barreling into him when your reaction response kicked in to steel you a safe distance away.

Maybe Tanaka's intense survival program pays off sometimes.

"So," he began and you wondered if he was about to say something intelligent or spew more shit with that mouth of his. He decided to choose the latter. "You're the one driving the Beetle dupe right there?"

Eh, come again?

Your eyes widened at him, looking at where his finger was pointed to confirm that he was pointing at your car and not anywhere else, then you whirled your head back at him appalled.

"B-Beetle dupe?!"

"I thought you were a guy."

Wouldn't be the first time I heard that one.

You took your hand back from his hold, wiping it on the sleeves of the suit hanging on your hips in the hopes that it would wipe off the disgust you were feeling too. It didn't but it was worth a try.

"It's the name," you replied through gritted teeth.

He backed up some more to scan you again, though more attentively this time, like you were some kind of illegality, cooked up from the pits of his imagination. You gave him your best front, hardening your jaw and rolling your shoulders backwards, proving you were more than a pair of boobs and a vagina, which was apparently his deranged first impression of you.

You deserved to be here. No amount of stares from the male specimen, surprised or with sinful intentions, could ever make you back down from this. This was yours to take on. No man could take this from you. Not him anyway.

So, you stared him down too, trying to find something else beside the extreme big dick energy and unsurmountable lack of scruples bathing him in the jackass façade he's got going on. Struggling to see anything else but some disdain in the way he crossed his arms over his broad chest, a rich prick attitude from how he shifted on his legs like the world owed him golden lingos every time he breathed, and some leftover rage from the screaming match with his mechanic still present in the tick of his jaw, you let your eyes meet his own in conclusion of your very own analysis.

Yeah, there's nothing else in there. An ambulant douchebag. Just like I thought.

Flashing cameras were suddenly thrown in your faces, interrupting the intense stare-down between you. The press and some people, potentially fans of other teams by their t-shirts, surrounded you from every corner of the plastic barrier around the two stations, pushing each other over the race marshals that tried their hardest to keep them away. It wasn't long until they pushed over the barrier.

Too absorbed in the chaos, you didn't notice he leaned down to your ear but when you did, you stilled in your shoes, all blood draining into your pounding stomach. He spoke close and low, so only you could hear his words.

"Don't get too comfortable around here, rookie," he whispered, his breath hitting the shell of your ear that made hot shivers run down your extremely clothed spine. "Let's see how long you last in here because this season might just be your first and last."

Pulling away with another one of his smirks that were starting to get on your nerves, he regarded you once more before he walked off in amusement to his cool-down room, giving you a full view of his broad back.

Oh, just you wait -

A reporter shoved into the human barrier of orange and green safety vests reaching the railing, yanking it back and forth repeatedly until the poor plastic seal broke off, letting everyone else pool in around you.

Uh-oh. This wasn't good.

They packed around you like wolves on their prey, all shouting different things at you while shoving their big cameras, recording devices and phones in your face. The flashes blinded you, turning the world white and too bright for it to be natural light from the clouded sky above.

Your hands shot up on instinct to cover your eyes from the flaring lights as your ears focused on filtering through the blaring sounds of camera clicks and voices. Then the countless questions registered clear as day, hitting you like a truck at full speed.

"Are you Rai Suruki, daughter of Hiro Suruki?"

"Where did your father get the money to restart the team?"

"Is your car even going to last a season?"

"Do you consider yourself a challenge to the rest of the drivers?"

I guess that was it for mystery, dad.

Some of the other teams passed by the ruckus, sparing quick judgmental glances or sending disgusting sneers your way like that was the way they initiated your welcome ceremony at the gates of the jungle.

If this was any other series, you would've been so welcomed by the rest of the grid and treated somewhat better by the media and the fans. But this was the World Rally Championships.

Driving was dirty. Talk was filthy, full of disrespect and unspoken trials of envy between each driver. The press competed to see who would get your head on a pike first and parade it as the story of the century.

Most important of all, respect was fought for, not earned.

It was a different game. One where you needed to play even if you didn't want to so in turn you wouldn't get played. Survival of the fittest truly.

You steeled your gaze, waving the reporters off and digging a hole through the crowd, successfully escaping away to your pit crew. Helping with packing up bits and pieces and taking your own stuff, you headed back to your team quarters, aware of the intensifying stares belonging to the rest of the teams still around their stations, talking about the first day in this season's calendar being an interesting one.

You had a feeling you and the team were the hot topic of conversation since you could feel their eyes searing deep holes into your back, burning hotter and doing more damage than flame-lit arrows aimed straight at you ever could. Tanaka wrapped an arm around you giving you his curled moustache smile, sympathizing with you.

Looking up at the sky darkening in mauve and pink, you let a small smile grace your lips. At least today was done. Your rally racing career has officially started. The team was back in business.

This first stage was just one of the many challenges still to come. Who knew what else was on the way?

As you trudged on the warm asphalt, warmed by the mid-spring heat of March, there was one thing you knew for sure.

This is gonna be a long season.

Next

Thank you for reading :) As always leave a like, comment or reblog!

[gowonders]

11:45 ♥ c.bg

notes : helloooo >_> felt like writing a new years fic for the pure reason of me liking it more than christmas.. and i got a crazy idea while doing my makeup .. soo.. !!! DID I FORGET TO RELEASE THIS…??? maybe. so it is based around new years, im so so so so sorry!! its so late >_< hope you enjoy this ~

warnings : not proofread, english isn’t my first language, yes i did bsf➡️lover again kill me, perv!switch!gyu, kinda perv!sub!fem!reader, dubcon, mentions of alc, and oral (m. rec.), reader has a BAD oral fixation :3, lmk if i missed any baes~~

beomgyu only had one new years wish. or.. resolution, he should say. to get you, his best friend to be his new years kiss. and he had a set plan, to get you to a party, and get you drunk enough to forget anything if you didn’t feel the same .. simple enough, right?

except, like anything that seems simple, it was the most fucking complicated thing ever.

a couple of knocks are heard on the doorway as you fix your makeup up, you turn your head back and meet beomgyus gaze, a meek smile on your lips. “hey gyu, what’s up?” you ask, putting down your lip gloss vial. beomgyu huffs and shakes his head. “um? we have to go soon.. get dressed and finish your makeup, i only wanna be fashionably late.” he says with a chuckle. “okay, okay,” you respond with a giggle. “let me get changed…” you trail off as you put on lip gloss, it had a pretty glimmer which gave it a white tone, and of course, it drove your best friend crazy. because all he could think of was painting your pretty lips with his cum…

“beomgyu.” you cut through his thoughts, holding up some dresses. “can you help me pick one? i’ll be quick, i just seriously don’t know which one to wear.” you ask with a pout, tilting your head.

“uhhhhhhh” beomgyu says into the air.. both of the dresses were cute, and they’d look perfect on you.. but one was more revealing. one one hand, it’d be really easy to keep his eyes on you all night.. but on the other, people would be able to see you too… “that one.” he says, pointing towards the less revealing dress. he’d be able (hopefully) to see more some other day. “oh, yeah! that is cute!” you say with a smile, “let me get changed and we can go.”

a few minutes later, you’re walking out of your room, looking absolutely perfect. like.. beomgyu could die right. there. but luckily, he keeps his composure and stands up, looking you up and down. “you look really nice, yn.” he says with a grin. “um.. thank you gyu, you too?” you respond with a chuckle, tilting your head at your best friends sudden sentimental words.

with a sigh, beomgyu waves his hand and grabs his keys, waking towards the door. “let’s get going?”

and somehow, maybe 2 hours later, you’re wasted.

you only had a few drinks.. did you? at this point, you couldn’t keep track. your best friend kept handing them to you, and you just took them, because what kind of person turns down free drinks? maybe a smart person.. because at this point, you are feeling things worse than a buzz.

“beomgyu….” you slur out, titling your head as you look at the boy sitting next to you. “can you hand me that..” you say to the boy holding your purse in your lap, pointing at it. you had kindly asked beomgyu to hold your purse before you came, and thank god you did.. because who knows where your stuff would be without him? “yeah, for sure.” he says stiffly, handing you the bag.

his mind is going crazy. he pulls out his phone a few moments after giving you your stuff, and sees the time. 11:45. he only had around 20 minutes to try and get you to be his new years kiss.. or more.

and god.. the way you applied that pretty and shiny lip gloss right infront of him didn’t help. he wanted to kiss it off, and have it smeared all over his cock. you would look sooo pretty… big, round, glassy eyes looking up at him, your bruised knees visible from your short dress, his hands tangled in your hair. don’t even get him started, if only you gave him a chance.

“it’s 11:50…” you start, pouting. you take your can of.. whatever you were drinking at this point, who was keeping track, and holding it up to your lips. “another year, no kiss.” you say in a tone that, to beomgyu, sounds like you’re begging him for that kiss. you take a sip of the drink and hold it up, making a toast to yourself. “ah, no.. yn..” beomgyu says, pulling your can down. “if you want.. i could kiss you? i know we’re best friends but like.. you complain every single year.” he sighs, looking you in the eye. he had you right where he wanted, you were drunk, he could have you in his arms if he used the right words. “i just hate to see you so upset!” he says with somewhat fake pity.

“really? you’d do that for me, gyu?” you ask, your face almost lights up. “you’re so thoughtful.. shit, i’ll take it.” you say with a slurred chuckle, pulling out your phone once more to check the time. 11:59.

“well. um.” beomgyu starts with a chuckle. “yn, happy new years. you’re my closest friend, and i can’t wait to see what the new year brings, right? i think you’re really great so like-“ he says, somewhat rambling before you cut him off. “its 12.” you mumble, holding onto his shoulders and pulling him in, pressing your glossed lips to his.

finally, ohmygodohmygodohmygoddd- are all of beomgyus thoughts repeated as you kiss him, and soon enough, he tries and shoots his luck, swiping his tongue across your lip, and your lips part.. which just ends you guys making out for a little longer than some “new years kiss”…

as he pulls away for air, you’re still connected by a string of saliva, and his lips are smudged with your lip combo.. just like he wanted. you guys had already made out.. and you were in some isolated part of the house.. it wouldn’t be a crime to ask.. “yn, wanna give me head?” it was bold. really fucking bold. but you were drunk, you would not remember anything in the morning. “yeah, sure.” you mumble. “like.. right now…?” you ask, and he just nods.

“mkay.” you say under your breath, and your hands move to his belt, undoing it. the clinks echo throughout the empty room as he leans back on the armrest of the couch, his hair turning more disheveled than it was before. your fingers hook under the waistband of his briefs once you unzip his pants, and he shivers, leaning his head back.

“i’m gonna.. yeah.” you say, slipping off the fabric and watching his hard-on spring against his stomach, your mouth watering at the sight of his leaking, red tip. you press your thighs together and whine, wrapping your hand around the base of his length, starting to pump it. his cock was so pretty..?

you could barely contain yourself as you press a small kiss to his tip, a shaky breath fanning against it. “so pretty. love you.” you mutter before you lick up his precum and wrap your lips around his length.

beomgyu couldn’t believe his ears.. aren’t,,, drunk sayings,,, sober thoughts??? he didn’t want to harp on it much.. he was literally about to ruin you. and your pretty little face.. and that really distracted him as he laced his fingers through your hair, fisting it.

as you sped up, beomgyu started to push your head down to take all of his inches, making you choke slightly and tears well at your eyes… you could care less. the salty taste and the way it hit your throat had you going crazy, you had to press your thighs together to try and satiate some neediness, but you could still tell, with the way your whines and moans muffled against his cock, making the experience all the more better.

“n-ngh, yn, fuck!” he chokes out, hips snapping up against your face as he pushes your head all the way down. “f-feel so- good..!” he pants. sweat was beading at his forehead, and a sheen of it could be seen from his half open dress shirt.

and you were faring no better, because beomgyus taste alone had you going, eyes squeezing shut to hide the way they rolled back.. you couldn’t wait for him to just paint up your throat.. and he looked so pretty, eyes squinting and lips parted as he lets out heavy breaths and groans, his disheveled hair and shirt.. god you were going crazy.

your hands jerked off the parts you absolutely couldn’t reach, so with that, your mouth and the vibrations of your moans.. beomgyu was on edge.. he could cum. any second. and honestly.. so could you.

“g-gonna c- ah!!” beomgyu cries out, throwing his head back all the way against the arm rest, hips rolling up into your face, gripping your hair for dear life, needy moans leaving the boy until he stays in a hilt, shooting white ribbons of seeds into your throat, making your whine against him, and that shot off your climax, except you finished in your panties, ruining the flimsy fabric. he just tastes so good..

and you were about to get the whole.. ruined underwear.. somewhat taken care of.

[obessed-with-fictional-men]

oh my sweet Gale

I will admit, the very first run through of this game i found Gale annoying, pushy, dumped trauma everywhere, narcissistic in his knowledge of magic, and the need to prove how right his in in the subject. I often found myself thinking and saying out loud "omg shut up"..... buuuuut... having romanced him...... i found that his personality traits are the exact same as someone born as a child prodigy, had his ego inflated, alienated by everyone around him, and made to think he was superior by someone higher up just to then land on his ass.

I wont go through what i think of his character development because each play through is different, and for each player its different... but this is what i think of him over all.

Gale doesn't know how to talk to people. He doesn't have social queues that almost everyone else picks up on. Gale has spent, up till the tadpole, the exception in a lot of the situations he was put into and thus it became his default personality. Yes, for those of us who have romanced him (keeps romancing him) we see someone haunted by their past choices and watch him grow. We see the nerd that he is, but this is more about the potential Gale before we meet him. So bare with me.

He was a child prodigy and put into a prestigious school where he flourished. I can only image how his professors loved him and his fellow students less than enthusiastic response. You know what happens when you become the teachers pet? You become ostracized by your fellow peers. You know what happens when you are really good at something that usually takes A LOT of practice for others? You either get used or don't make friends. Gale has had ONE story that involved other people and it didn't involve friends, he was at a bar and defused a brawl with ale. He has openly admitted to Tara being his only real friend.

Now this isn't to say Gale never had to work at his magic or arcane knowledge to get him to where he is in the game when he first meet him. He was an archmage and the chosen of Mystera, but his innate ability to wield it as a young boy is what got Mystera's attention. Gale has stated that she was his teacher first, then his muse and finally his lover. You can only imagine how special he felt when Mystera chose him to be his guiding hand..... and then to be a lover? I don't care who you are..... That shit would have to inflate your ego. That shit would make you feel like you were SOOO much better than your fellow peers. You would have those toxic thoughts and comments of "yeah, well Mystera chose me! So who needs friends/criticism/physical lovers/ect". What do you typically do when you catch the attention of someone you highly regard? You try to impress them and do what you can to be even more impressive! So Gale's ambition grew to newer heights. I cant imagine what Mystera poisoned his mind with while they were together. Like, i get she told him to just be content with the things were.... but come on Mystera... you couldn't have expected him to stop striving to be better with a simple "nah, you're cool how you are. you don't need to be my equal". Not when the poor man has spent the last 2 decades of his life striving to be the best. His most important years for growth and development have been spent on trying to impress others.

Gale learns of a way to possibly convince Mystera to allow him into her domain and it gets a carnivorous orb shoved into his chest, dumped, stripped of his titles and holed up in his tower without nary a reason why. That had to be the biggest blow he has ever received in his entire life. His act of what he believed to be a sure fire way into getting what he wanted ended up taking almost everything away from him. If it wasn't for Tara, i'm sure Waterdeep would have succumbed his to orbs blight. The man locked himself in his tower and turned away all his colleagues and family.

So imagine, you are this lonely person... squirreled away from others and any social interaction. No one to talk to except your pet *sorry Tara* and all of a sudden you find yourself on a ship.... with a parasite in your brain and then your thrust into an adventure with a bunch of strangers. You have this orb in your chest that could blow at any time and you cant really explain WHY you need magical items.... but that if you don't get them.... everyone is in trouble.... you find your group facing monsters and doing weird ass side quests.... and at any given opportunity, you like to drop a knowledge bomb on the group.... just to find that some of the group members don't like your input... or don't listen at all.. which doesn't sit well with you. You've been told how right you are for like... 20 years... You haven't been given many acts of kindness since becoming an adult, what with your abrasive "im more knowledgeable in everything and i've slept with a goddess" personality, so when you see your fearless leader doing something nice, you approve. You grown to trust this leader enough to tell them the truth.... knowing full well they may turn on you, but they don't! You continue to watch them, and share moments of magic with them, you fight along side them, and what is this? Are you starting to develop feelings for them? Are they reciprocating these feelings?

He gets a death sentence slapped on his back and these new budding feelings he has for you need to be made known. What better way than to show you how much you mean to him than to literally paint the sky in the weave for you. To take away the Shadow-lands curse and SHOW you something better. He thinks 'the most perfect night would have to be some place im comfortable and vulnerable.... so that i can SHOW them. This is me, Gale. This is my whole world and at the center of it, my very heart'. he is literally showing you who he is. he is this studious... lonely man.. who sits in front of his fire place reading and researching... or out on his terrace watching the sunset with a book. Like, do you accept this version of me that you have not seen yet? *Not to mention the weave/ astral projected 3 gale gang bang you get while spinning through the cosmos. He is such a show off... or he just isnt confident in his own physical/ mortal ability to woo and wow*

To watch Gale throughout my few play throughs grow as a person and learn that having to much ambition can oft lead to ruin... and watch him change to just be content with himself as he is... i get a lot of comfort from it. I haven't gone down the God route yet, nor have i tried to make him more villainous, but who knows lol.

I have a lot thoughts on pre-tadpoled Gale and how his life up to that point made him who he is when we are first introduced to him. Gale is definitely my comfort character.

Sorry for the rant... or maybe im not. Once again... these are my thoughts from my multiple play throughs.