#pls the struggle is so real. posting this is already coming from me at my wits end

[sh1nsoukoku]

Pls tell me all dazai autism traits in ur list

OMG I AM SO GLAD YOU ASKED, yes yes yes…

I want to preface this by saying this is in no means supposed to be canon facts or a diagnosis, I just think he is a very autistic-coded character coming from my own experiences as an autistic adult!

Long post under the cut because I don’t know how to stfu!!!

We will start with my main reasoning:

As we know, Dazai and his ability are based off of the work No Longer Human. Dazai being similar to the main character Yozo. Yozo is a kind of “stand in” for the real life author Osamu Dazai as No Longer Human contains a lot of real events from the author’s life. BSD Dazai and Yozo’s main similarities are the disconnection from others and high masking. Here are two quotes from the book:

“All I feel are the assaults of apprehension and terror at the thought that I am the only one who is entirely unlike the rest. It is almost impossible for me to converse with other people. What should I talk about? How should I say it? - I don’t know.”

This is incredibly similar to the lived experiences of Autistic people. I used to feel like an alien, or just fundamentally different than others. We tend to also struggle with communicating and other social dynamics. Dazai feels isolated from others, let’s very few people close, and searches for meaning by observing other humans and life and death itself. He quotes this as his reason for joining the Mafia. He also processes emotion differently, at odds with people around him.

“I managed to maintain on the surface a smile which never deserted my lips; this was the accommodation I offered to others, a most precarious achievement performed by me only at the cost of excruciating efforts within.”

This is one of the best descriptions I have read of Autistic Masking. Dazai HIGHLY masks. Dazai is known for not showing his true thoughts/feelings/opinions often in BSD. He can code switch easily, serious in one moment and then covering it with his over the top silly/unusual/maniacal personality. In NLH this is described as “clowning.” I also think Dazai’s genius “always according to plan” thing is sometimes a mask, so he doesn’t show the fact that he’s working hard to pull strings and figure things out.

He does have some insane pattern recognition though which is also an autistic attribute!

And now for the more surface level reasons:

Repetitive Behavior/Media Consumption: Dazai reads the same book over and over again. The Ultimate Guide to Suicide is a book he’s had with him since his PM days and he tells Atsushi that he already knows everything it says because he’s read it hundreds of times. A very common autistic trait!

Restricted Diet: Dazai seems to have a limited diet consisting of alcohol and canned crab! It’s a same food/safe food he has often. His room was described to be full of discarded cans of crab and bottles. Limited diets are common in autistic people.

Stimming: Dazai stims! He is a very wiggly and stimmy person. There’s several scenes where he is seen humming and singing or making little silly noises.

Dazai and his headphones are so important to me.. he seems to wear them frequently around the office. It could be noise cancelling or auditory stimulation that he likes.

The man never sits normally on a chair which is something I think a lot of neurodivergent people can relate to.

And of course floor time! Shown by him rolling around when stressed, laying on the rooftop and a few instances in Wan! like the marshmallow scene.

Also you can’t tell me that this is not two burnt out autistics after overworking their brains…

[lulumangione]

as someone who’s autistic i also really get the feeling that luigi is on the spectrum and i have nobody to talk about it with because i feel weird like armchair diagnosing him����

his mannerisms really give it away for me. he’s overly expressive and literally cannot talk without using his hands—and also he comes off to other people as maybe “suspicious” which i really relate to and honestly makes me sad because he’s just chilling!! he might seem like he’s up to something to some but he just seems to me like he’s naturally very antsy and maybe uncomfortable in his own body so he fidgets a lot. i’ve done that little half stretch with the arms raised too many times to count. that’s not even mentioning his little default stance with the hands clasped in front of him or that stupid face he does in pictures sometimes where he scrunches up and looks like he’s gonna bite a bitch

and before he went missing he mentioned to some people feeling “different” from everybody else, like he was on a different wavelength, and that SCREAMS undiagnosed autistic to me. the “npc behavior” he described being so concerned with feels like an extension of this—i think maybe he felt like someone whose feelings are so so big in a world that seems to not feel much at all anymore. that feeling of not belonging and being out of place is the most autistic thing anyone can experience and i feel for him so much. if he does happen to be on the spectrum i wish he could’ve found some kind of community of other neurodivergent people that get him and share similar struggles because maybe then he wouldn’t have felt so alone. idk this turned into a RANT sorry i’m very passionate about autism can you tell

NONNIE YOU'RE SO FUCKING REAL OMG Thank you so much for this ask, you expressed so clearly how I feel about it too!!

As a fellow autistic, at least in my personal experience, I can easily tell when someone clocks that I'm autistic, despite the fact I'm extroverted and a pretty confident person. I think Luigi falls under that too.

No matter how hard you can try to not seem that way, there will be neurotypicals that see it. They'll usually play it up as "weird" or "suspicious" like you said, I've had it a handful of times. It's just how we are, lol.

I think it's unfortunate that he found community in a bunch of incels online, but I can understand why he would be drawn to that despite how smart he is and how his brain ticks. We don't know him personally so there's no telling what his political thoughts are entirely. Man is an enigma in that sense – which also makes sense for being neurodivergent.

With such wealth and an overbearing family, it's easy to understand why he would just want to get away. Find peace outside of everything he'd ever known. I feel the same sometimes.

It also makes sense for his distaste for technology, or at least somewhat of it. We get overstimulated easily and the world was already going haywire and towards something unhopeful, flooding socials and the media in general, before all of this, so I can at least comprehend why he would want to disappear.

Luigi's Reddit posts I feel go more into him as a person outside of silly twitter posts, the way he would randomly info dump about things is a big tism flag for me.

(example, the sunglasses post, lmao. "Fun fact" babes, no one asked x)

I mentioned before how it can feel weird to talk about, but I genuinely do think it's okay to feel that connection, regardless of who it is.

(Btw pls feel free to DM me whenever!! I'd love to hear more on everyone's thoughts on this.)

[bp-zb1fics]

A little crazy

pairing: overprotective bf shanbin x s/o reader

genre: university au on unhingedness (same verse as perils, and no, it's not lasik), fluff

tw/tags: established relationship, some stereotypical characters, hanbin has a few quirks, character study lowkey, unwanted flirting, unintentional flirting, pet names, intimidation, he's sweet but a psycho, drinking, getting a lil tipsy, lowkey stalker vibes but not really, for plot purposes we will find it cute, threatening, idk how to tag this pls tell me if i missed something

wc: 2078

summary: your boyfriend is legitimately the sweetest person ever…except when someone tries to make moves on you. Then he gets…well…

a/n my advanced birthday fic for hanbin! Bc idk why I thought it was today I must have hallucinated but also idk if I have time to post on the actual day bc of real life commitments lmao whoops I struggle and try my best. Shout out to Kara aka @boysplanetmorelike for sparking this lil idea~

Check my pinned for more fics~

It’s not like he was perfect, even if people liked to think he was. Well, yes he is very boyfriend. That’s why he’s your boyfriend.

You, of all people, can attest to the fact he isn’t perfect. You’ve seen his hair in the morning. He’s definitely not at his prettiest. Sometimes he becomes a little control freak. You know that. You’re the one who they call to get him before he makes one of the poor freshmen cry unintentionally and then ends up feeling guilty about it and apologising profusely for the rest of the day, your poor soft-hearted man. And some might argue that yes he has his little ticks but they’re only minor character flaws if they can be considered flaws at all.

If only they knew.

Those who have had the pleasure of getting to know Sung Hanbin on a more, well, personal level are probably the only ones who will ever know. Poor souls, really.

And perhaps it isn’t as effective to explain as it is to show what exactly one of his more problematic personality issues is. Let’s take one unsuspecting, innocent afternoon.

Perspective. You’ve just finished class. It’s a pleasant day. You decide to meet at one of the benches under the trees outside your building. His class finishes a bit after yours so you wait, scrolling through your phone, peaceful, unbothered.

Enter unfortunate victim. For the purpose of this exercise, he shall remain unnamed. We’ll call him Victim #444. Or well, that guy.

He’s your typical fuckboy. Good looking in a sort of lukewarm way, hugely overconfident, probably thinks he has a bigger dick than he actually does, a horrible flirt, we’ve all met that type.

You share a class together. That’s how he makes conversation. Otherwise, he might not dare to approach at that time. Your talk goes something like this.

“Hey, you’re in Choi-seongsaengnim’s class too right?”

“Yeah?” You look up from your phone and he’s just there. He takes a seat on the same bench without asking. Well, it’s public property but he’s a little closer than you would like.

“He’s such a hardass, don’t you think? Like sure, he knows the lesson but he doesn’t need to act like this is the only class we’re taking.”

“Well, I mean-”

“-Like seongsaengnim, come on, I have a life outside of trying to figure out what the fuck your lessons mean.” You can add self-absorbed and stupid to this one’s list of notable traits.

“I think-” And definitely not letting you get a word in.

“Speaking of, have you got a partner for the latest project? Because, you know, I’ve been asked but I’m happy to make an exception if you want to pair up.”

“Actually, I already have-”

“Let me give you my number so we can contact each other? Maybe meet up, you know? I’ve got a nice little place to myself on the other side of campus.”

Ugh, as if. He’s leaning in so close that you can smell his cheap cologne. Before you can get up from the bench, arms wrap around you from the back and a very familiar voice coos in your ear.

“Ahh nae sarang, sorry I’m late.”

You turn your head, leaning into him.

“Hi Binnie-yah.”

He beams at you before directing his stare at the other guy. And so it begins.

“Oh, who’s this?”

You’re pretty sure Hanbin knew who this was. He knew who everyone was and at least one notable thing about them because he was quirky like that. Well, he wasn’t known as the university’s social butterfly for nothing. And you don’t want to spoil his fun so you let the guy introduce himself.

“Ah, you’re taking that major, yeah? So Junho-yah is your senior, how is he these days?”

“Oh, ah yes, Junho-sunbaenim’s been doing well, I don’t really see him around much actually.”

And bingo. The guy starts squirming. Faster than it usually takes. Your boyfriend’s made himself comfortable even though he’s half-hunched over and resting his chin on your shoulder, looking at the other guy with an unwavering stare. Sort of the way a spider would probably look at a fly before, well, you know.

“Really, well last I heard from him, he was complaining about how disrespectful his underclassmen are…but you’re not like that, aren’t you?”

“Ah, no, of course not sunbaenim.”

You can feel Hanbin’s smile get wider, his eyes crinkling in a way that you find adorable but you suspect might not be as cute for your unfortunate companion.

“That’s good, keep up the good work. I can’t imagine how I’d feel if any of my underclassmen were being disrespectful. Ah well, actually I can….”

He pauses and you swear that the guy stops breathing.

“...and I can definitely say that they’ll be very sorry that they even tried that with me.” Hanbin continues cheerily.

Suddenly he walks over and starts patting him on the shoulder. The guy flinches back.

“So next time, remember to be on your best behaviour and keep being polite, hmm? Don’t be so obvious? Maybe try not to be so shameless, yeah?”

“Ah, yes, of course, sunbaenim. Actually I- I just remembered I- I have to go- ah- sorry to disturb um- excuse me-”

You watch as he does a roughly 90 degree bow to both of you before walking off quickly.

“Less than 5 minutes, Binnie, that’s a new record.”

And your cute boyfriend is back, pouting and grabbing at your hands and squeezing them softly. If you were anyone else, you would have gotten whiplash.

“It’s not my fault if I want you all to myself, hmmm?”

Did you mention that your boyfriend was a little off in the head? Not in the should-be-confined-to-the-mental-hospital way but that slight sort of insanity that possesses him when someone tries to go for his little brother (rip Gunwook) or his little sister or his close friends or well, you.

And everyone else? Everyone else was not safe. If murder was legal, literally everyone else would probably be fearing for their lives. Which is probably a good thing that murder isn’t legal. Those incredibly lucky bastards.

Take one of the freshmen trying to chat you up during a party. They’ve been incredibly nice all evening, pouring you drinks and asking you all sorts of thoughtful questions about the major. So yes, you’re very happy to answer and give them little tips on how to ace a certain project.

“And it’s honestly fine if you mess up a little on your first test for Hwang-seongsaengnim’s class, he’s very nice when it comes to students forgetting a few names so don’t stress too much about it and make sure to ace the extra credit he gives.”

“Oh, thank you so much sunbaenim. That’s so helpful, I’ll definitely try my best.”

You can’t help but smile. So cute. Maybe it was the alcohol but you remember how it was like being a wide-eyed, overeager freshman listening attentively to your own seniors.

“It’s really no problem. Ask me anything, anytime. Seriously, don’t be afraid if you need advice.”

You reach over to pat them, swaying just a little from the amount of soju running through your body. They’re awfully red as well. You wonder why.

“How are you getting home, sunbaenim? Do you live nearby? I can walk with you if you’re comfortable with that, I don’t think it’s too safe to be out at this time.”

“Oh it’s no worries, I’ll be taking them home.”

“Ah Hanbinnie, meet my new dongsaeng” you’re not too sure when he got here or even why he’s here but Hanbin’s incredibly warm and his hands around your waist feel so nice. 

“This is my boyfriend.” You introduce him to the freshman. He dips his head in greeting as the other nearly tips over trying to bow. You make a concerned noise, making to catch the other but Hanbin firmly keeps you from moving, letting the freshman catch themselves instead.

“So nice to meet you, we’ll get going if that’s alright. It’s really not safe to be out this late, especially with someone you barely know.” You hardly register your boyfriend’s words but you’re not that drunk that you don’t know the smile he’s giving is about 95% fake and razor-sharp.

“Ah yes, get home safely, sunbaenim. I’ll find my way back so don’t worry.”

“Oh we won’t” You think you hear Hanbin say. Maybe. Could be your imagination. Because the next moment he’s nuzzling at your neck like a very spoiled cat, arms firmly holding you up as he guides you out of the bar and into the car.

“Nae sarang, you really need to take better care of yourself or I won’t want to let you out of my sight.” He says to you softly as he practically carries you into the passenger seat. It’s sweet, well the implication behind it is kinda creepy but you know he doesn’t mean it that way. (Does he?)

“You drove here?”

“Of course, I can’t let you go home all by yourself, can I?”

Like you said, there’s just a tiny screw loose in that head of his, considering the bar where you’re drinking is over an hour away from campus. You chalk it up to it being Hanbin. He can get a little paranoid on occasion. 

And sometimes, he goes a bit psycho. A little. Not a lot. Still, according to Gunwook, it’s terrifying. You really wouldn’t know but you’ve seen it.

You’ve come to wait for his dance club to finish when someone collides into you. It’s not too hard but it still knocks you off your feet and onto the ground with a thud.

“Yah, watch where you’re going, huh? I have a performance next week and I could have injured myself.”

It’s definitely one of the newer members because you don’t recognise them. Before you can say anything, Seo Won, one of the veterans, is already helping you up and asking if you’re okay. The one that knocked you over huffs and is about to say something else when Hanbin calls their name sharply.

Your boyfriend’s eyes narrow and maybe you’re a little lightheaded from the fall but also from the way his shirt clings to his body and his hair weighed down by sweat. It’s kinda hot but you’re not admitting that out loud. Not now, at least. He calls the other member’s name again and gestures him over.

He speaks too quietly for you to hear anything. All you know is that the other’s face pales drastically and he bows several times, walking over and apologising to you before practically hightailing out of the room.

Hanbin’s all over you in a matter of seconds, practically lifting you off the ground. It’s not good for your heart. Seo Won quickly backs off.

“My poor sarang, are you okay? Do you need anything? Ice? Are you bruised anywhere? Let me check.”

You don’t ever see the person who knocked you over again. Ever. You’d wonder about it but you’ve learned that it was better not to question sometimes. Especially when Hanbin insists on carrying you around for the rest of the day and practically waits on you hand and foot until the bruises fade. And it’s just a bruise. You do admit to him later that maybe you find it attractive when he’s a shade pissed and sweaty. Maybe you both get a little sweaty after that. And later, when you’re rightfully tired and sprawled out on top of him, you think about it.

Really, you wonder what goes through his mind sometimes.

[cut scene]

Hanbin smiles, all teeth and no sympathy. It’s like the serial killer before the murder.

“You speak to anyone like that ever again and I can do injuring for you, understood? No, don’t talk, just nod if you’ve managed to get it into that head of yours, hmm?”

A nod. Hanbin likes it when they’re like this. Quiet and white-faced and sweating nervously.

“Now go apologise to them. Sincerely. Like you mean it. And then, get lost. I don’t want to see your face for awhile, yes?”

Another nod. They take one step back and make to turn around.

“Oh wait.”

They freeze.

“Remember. Sincerely, okay? And don’t think I won’t know if it isn’t.”

A final nod.

“Very good. Now go.”

They go. Hanbin sighs. God, you’re going to drive him insane one day. (He already is)

[bloodymarine]

Ok. My first ever public rant: "The Hunger Games is boringly written and Katniss Everdeen is a boring character." Here we go. Pls bare with me.

(Spoilers ahead!)

So I came across a comment under bookstagram post that said Katniss is a boring character and THG is boringly written. The person who claimed this also said they've read the 2 first books. And I cannot wrap my head around this way of thinking. I am not able to understand where that experience would come from. So here we are.

I might be biased since I love THG: I have all the books and movies in physical forms, I've got posters and even the Mockingjay pin. So, I am a fan.

But even non-fans have for years been emotionally moved by the story and have stated that Suzanne Collins did amazing job with how she did the world building and wrote all the characters. The story was (is) inspired by our real world - starting with the major war and resistance theme - and people keep telling how much the story resonates with them. And they keep saying that year after year.

Even the people who've thought it's not much of a great story at first have found their minds changed after reading the first book. People who have thought it's overrated have changed their minds. Why? Because they have found the way Suzanne describes the poor and the entitled rich people, the contrast between the two groups, brilliant and heavily touching with how she is so brutally honest with everything: the complete lack of empathy Capitol has for the people in the districts and how damn hard the lives of the latter are, with literally no other way out than death, doesn't matter how much they work or suffer. Capitalism is always top priority. And with that, the entertainment of the rich people. Nothing is sugar-coded.

I would dare to state that objectively THG is a really well written story with how it deep dives into the darkest places of human mind and how captimalism, money and entertainment rules the world. (Sounds familiar?) And the main character is realistically written too, given the circumstances she's been forced to live in: she doesn't really have much guidance or support since she doesn't really let anyone, even the few who care for her, know exactly how bad her family's living conditions are.

Katniss Everdeen's luxuries are cut so short that she almost dies from hypothermia and hunger while trying to search for food for her and her family. She lives constantly on eggshells, not knowing what tomorrow gives or takes, trying to simply stay alive while trying to keep her family alive. She's 16 when she volunteers for the games in her sister's place. She knows that she has no chance of surviving. How could she, when she's already struggling at home, not even knowing how to fight properly?

Yet with all that she's been put through and how she's never given any time to catch her breath, she's actually a warrior. She survives the games and comes back home, as a victor.

Boring. That's the word that was used to describe Katniss and the whole story.

I didn't make this rant with ill intentions, I don't want to drag anyone down simply because their experience differ from mine. I just wanted to get this out of my chest. I've never came across anyone making this statement so it brought some confused feelings in me. And I thought: I don't really have many people over here who could see this, so why not write a small rant.

Just in case a soul or two happens to find this, I would absolutely like to hear your thoughts about this! ˶╹ꇴ╹˶ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

[zanarkandfayth]

Writing asks! Pls answer 2, 7, 11, 17, 23, 25, and 37. And if there are any others you'd like to answer, then please tell me about those too!

02 Anything that you'd like to write but feel like you're unable to? ooh, I have an immediate answer for this but I'm not sure how to word it. like… can't just say "plotty fics" because my fics have plots. can't say "fics where the conflict is external" because some of my whump fics are also that. but, hhh… those kinda fics that have those things but the plot is, idk, complicated??? with lots of foreshadowing and plot twists and dramatic/adventure-y stuff is happening. like I would LOVE to write some kinda time travel fix-it fic AU for ffxv that takes elements from canon but has its own interesting/intriguing plot where original things that aren't just a rehash of canon slightly changed happen, but I really struggle to come up with any strong ideas for that kind of thing. or like when I used to be in the csi/criminal minds/psych/house fandoms, I would have LOVED to write casefics but I'd never manage the mystery aspect of it. if any of that makes sense? I also feel the same way about horror fics, I've read some fantastic ones in the ffxv fandom and I'd love to write something of my own, something involving ghosts/haunted places, but I can't really come up with ideas and I also don't know if I'd pull of the creepy aspect of it all.

07 Your favourite ao3 tag. you would think it would be hurt/comfort or angst or whump, but no, underage/non-con combo, my beloved. love me some projection and coping.

11 Three tropes that are fine but overrated. Okay so I've spent most of the past hour before answering this looking at fanfic trope tier lists and browsing posts on the ao3 sub about overrated tropes trying to find ones that would fall under this for me, and the only conclusion I can come to is that I don't have any. because for me, I only (unfairly lmao) consider a popular trope overrated if I dislike it/hate it/just don't fucking GET it 😅 like enemies to lovers. absolute yawn. don't hate it but it does nothing for me and I don't genrally read it. I do not get the appeal. but it feels SO popular rn, I see it talked about a lot on reddit and tumblr and I'm so tired of it lol. so it just feels completely overrated to me. (and no, my dear mutuals who like enemies to lovers, I don't mind your posts about them. exceptions are always made for moots.) but like, say… only one bed. it doesn't make me lose my mind and I don't seek fics with it out, but it's a fine trope. really enjoy a good only one bed fic if it comes my way. therefore, would never call it overrated.

17 Past or present tense? Why? I can do both but I love the immediacy of present tense these days. also love that it's more like I'm in the character's head following along with them as things are happening to them, seeing them have thoughts and say things in real time, rather than being narrated a story that's already taken place.

23 Dialogue or description? Why is the other one so hard? I genuinely love both equally and don't find either overall difficult 😅 however, I will say that since I have aphantasia, I often find it hard to remember to include visual descriptions lmao. like I can describe emotional stuff so easily and probably get too wordy about it, but describing a character's appearance or what their surroundings look like??? even when it's relevant to a scene, I often forget. a lot of it tends to get added in after the fact, usually when I'm halfway through a scene and realise I need a damn description. and it's because when I'm reading my brain just glosses over descriptions like they're not there because they mostly do nothing for me. so I usually have to force myself to take note if it feels important. though I do like nature descriptions because those are easy enough to have an idea of so I dismiss those less. they also naturally make it into my writing more haha. so if I had to pick between one, it'd be description for that reason, but I don't really struggle with the actual describing part of it.

25 Is writing the whole thing beforehand better or worse than writing it as you go? oh, this is such an interesting question because I feel like my answer would be so different ten years ago, and even more different still twenty years ago. but at twenty-five years, I'm honestly not sure anymore that one is better than the other. it just depends on your needs and maybe the fic? because, well, I'll use my here's to the fall series. on the one hand, posting it as I wrote it ended up being really stressful for me because it got so much more attention than I expected and I started putting pressure on myself to update regularly. literally fucking APOLOGISED to people during grey skies for needing to take a break from writing/posting for awhile when I'd fucking downed a bottle of pills, as if I was letting everyone down by needing to put my mental health first lmao. I could have avoided all of that stress if I'd pre-written the fics*. on the other hand, the ending for shadows growing came from a reader comment, as did some of the scenes in grey skies and the side scenes that made up ties. I'd never have that if I'd waited to finish the fic before posting. I might never even have finished shadows growing if I'd waited, because I may never have come up with an ending on my own.

I will say whichever one I go with, I have found it immensely helpful for me to have an outline first, because that's kind of my version of a first draft. sometimes I may not have the whole thing outlined when I start writing, only partially, (like with monsters) but I still know roughly where I want things to go, and how it ends. if I don't have that much, I won't even write.

*don't worry, I have long since remembered again this is just a hobby and if someone is upset that I don't update regularly or abandon a fic, not my fucking problem 🤣

37 Do you research before writing or while you write? Is it fun or boring for you? either while I write or while I outline! usually both lol. not in initial plotting stages tho. and I'd say most of the time it's fun for me :D I just have to be careful not to get too in-depth with some of it or go too far down a research rabbit hole, because then I start obsessing over needing everything to be accurate all the time and that just starts fucking the sun* out of it. did that with a digimon fic and that was definitely a big contributor to why I ultimately abandoned it. looking up the date your scene falls on so you can have the exact time the sun set in tokyo that day and make the character's clock say that as he's checking the time and noting the sunset is just a liiiittle unhinged. but it's what I did.

*I meant sucking the fun obviously but the way I accidentally wrote it first is so funny I'm leaving it anyways thank you for the ask!! always fun to do <3 no bonus answers because I'm tired now lol

[sky-walkerem]

I’m so close to having a row for book bingo for @batmanisagatewaydrug lol. (Pls don’t be intimidated I don’t have a job and I can’t do much in general so…) some of the prompts I’ve met a few times already, but I know I’m going to struggle with some, like romance (Noah fence anyone I just don’t read it super often), the recommendation one (I just don’t get out much, given that I’m not allowed to drive anymore), and the zines (mostly I’m just not sure what I personally have to say. I used to work with zines in an archive so I’m quite familiar with them).

Anyway! Here’s what we’ve got so far:

Literary fiction: The World Cannot Give by Tara Isabella Burton - I fear I’m the target audience for this book. Dark academia + religious trauma/guilt + queer guilt wrapped into the religious trauma? Sold! Welcome to a super toxic relationship set within academia and flooded with religious discussion, all told by the most naive character you’ll ever meet!

Fantasy: the Way of Kings by Brandon Sanderson - the stormlight archives is on my goals list this year so it was great to get this one off my tbr! Can’t wait to read the rest!

Set in a country you’ve never lived in: Vita Nostra by Marina dyachenko - set in an unknown small town in Ukraine, this is such a confusing book but so worth it! I also read the sequel, and was no less confused. If you wanna read this book you have to be okay with not knowing what the fuck is going on.

Horror: woodworm by Layla Martinez - this is also set in a country I’ve never lived in (Spain), but I’m a big fan of fucked up houses. Also an indie lol.

Published in the aughts: parable of the sower by Octavia butler - (and its sequel) this one surprised me bc I thought they were published before 2000. Octavia butler is a fantastic writer but I never want to read these again, they were SO stressful bc they were so realistic!

Sequel: The Dark Forest by Cixin Liu - sequel to the three body problem. This series has some fascinating ideas, with some flaws when it comes to character work. Will be reading book 3.

Indie: Ling Hun by Ai Jiang - fucked up houses are just so good! This one really gets into grief as a subject and weaves it in to predatory real estate communities. I really seem to be nailing the eternal goal of reading translated fiction/international authors.

Nonfiction: American Scary: A History of Horror, from Salem to Stephen King and Beyond by Jeremy Dauber - this one reframes a lot of history that I already knew, within the context of influencing horror and being influenced by horror, which was nice. I’ve also read two other nonfiction books this year, both about French history. This year I’m trying to read more of the nonfiction books on my physical shelf.

Animal on the cover: Shadow Crosser by J. C. Cervantes - making another goal to read some of the Riordan Reads books this year too, as a palate cleanser and in support of that publishing imprint.

Anyways super fun challenge! I’ll probably just reblog this post again for updates!

(If anyone has a rec for debut author let me know! I’m not as up to date on book news anymore, but I especially like horror, sci fi, fantasy, p much anything speculative or weird)

[vechter]

i'm going to preface this with the fact that you are one of the most incredible writers i've ever come across. your writing is so painfully visceral, imbued with countless analogies, thematic motifs and allegory. it's captured me in a way i've never seen any form of literature do before, like every word resounds in my heart. it's so contemplative and introspective yet so engaging. you have this ability to interweave all this allusion within the dynamic of bruce and dick that just leaves me reeling. you make all these characters so heart-wrenchingly real. YOU'RE JUST ABSOLUTELY INCREDIBLE

I COULD GO ON FOR DAYS ABOUT YOUR WRITING MASTERY BUT THIS IS CALLED ASKS FOR A REASON SO i'm currently struggling with the seemingly insurmountable task of writing a short story centralised around the human condition. gotta love english assessments. i have a tab open of lbia just to dissect all of the techniques and symbolism you've used to glean some form of idea of what i'm aiming for. i'm reaching for the stars and expecting to land on the moon. there's no way whatever i write will hold a candle to the sun that is your work BUT how do you write so well? is writing always a thing that comes naturally to you? what's your writing process? how do you come up with and organise your ideas? how do you weaponise language in a way that drives the plot forward but still properly conveys a depth of character? should i read more academic essays?

I KNOW THIS IS COMPLETELY RANDOM AND OUT OF THE BLUE AND YOU ARE UNDER NO OBLIGATION TO RESPOND BUT I WANT YOU TO KNOW THAT YOUR WRITING HAS REALLY TOUCHED MY HEART AND I'M FOREVER GRATEFUL FOR YOUR WORK. I once heard it said that literature is something that only exists in the act of reading. its potential can only fully be harnessed through experience, much like a score of music. the scribbled notes mean nothing in comparison to the feelings in the audience they invoke. literature is fully alike in the sense that the experience of reading is the most beautiful part of literature. thanks for giving me and thousands of others the incomparable experience of reading your work. you've wrung my heartstrings and made me fall in love with reading all over again. 🫶

firstly, THANK YOU AHHHHHH!!!!! this is the kindest and most wonderful message i could have ever received and i love you for it 💖 like i've reread it fives times already and i'm giggling and kicking my feet at just how effusive you've been with your praise and appreciation... truly means the world to me 🥺

also not you having lbia open to dissect for your assignment pls im just so touched by that GOD thankyouthankyouthankyou 😭

as for my own process (long insight below the cut):

okay, so writing is never a straightforward or linear process for me... in fact, i think i'm pretty terrible with how i write; generally, when i'm writing fic, i bounce between comics and my own notes and ideas that have been scribbled and jotted in multiple places and never cohesively compiled which is not sth i'd recommend. like there's no real order or structure to it so idk how much i'll be able to help but i'll try my best <3

for lbia, i knew i wanted to write canon-divergence from dick's point of view, who is generally an unreliable narrator but would be 10x more unreliable in the post-spyral aftermath which is where the idea of indents and sections in parenthesis came from. since you're writing a short story, it would help if you have a thesis/central message or the barebones of the plot. what do you want to say about the human condition? how much do you trust your reader to extrapolate from the nuances? will the beginning and ending have the same message? since it's a short story, set up an idea bank for your main character(s)... how do they connect with their humanity? what does that look like? ask yourself questions about your character and spend time developing answers for them!

questions like these are a good starting point... spending time working out what you want to say and how you want to say it will never be a waste because it'll make the actual writing process much more straightforward + this is the time to get your creative juices flowing... you can often surprise yourself with your own train of thought!

the actual plot in lbia was definitely more straightforward— i wanted it to be about dick recognizing the shatter point of bruce essentially asking him to die again while also regaining his sense of identity and personhood in a way that felt authentic to his pre-n52 characterization... and the most natural way to do that was through the titans and the bats because so much of dick's heart is the various people he loves and connects with. so, i mapped out the trajectory of the characters he would interact with and how those interactions would go— what would be the central truths in those conversations, how would dick atone and repent without chipping away at his independence, how he would feel about these people in his life post-death

i had two outlines going simultaneously— one was more general, for the entire body of work while the other was a more detailed one with elaborate chapter outlines. for example, here's a snippet of my outline for the dick & tim conversation:

you'll see it's a mix of plot-points and actual text that went into the fic... this is because i end up doing a lot of my writing in bits and pieces when the inspiration strikes, so i usually have to compile them in outlines when i actually sit down to flesh out an entire section/chapter. organizing them linearly is not really sth i do on page, it's usually more in my head and as i'm writing the actual words but it's much easier if you have a rough chronological sense. obviously, this is not applicable to every piece of writing because it's not always going to be a linear sequence of events so you have to adapt it to how you're telling your story (and there's no right or wrong way... whatever works for you, works for you!)

as for the language, your best guide is reading as voraciously as you can. academic essays, novels, poems, plays, anything and everything you can dedicate your time to! you'll learn different words, different techniques, multiple ways to incorporate motifs and themes that lend to the depth of the plot and characters

take, for example, the pre-donna section of chapter one. i tried to use a lot of imagery and diction + dick's own perception of other characters and what it says about him to the readers... to really highlight how fractured his sense of self is. so, one possible way is to use notions that generally evoke a particular feeling in your audience to strengthen and further the impact of whatever you're trying to say. like the notion of a bird choking on plastic can have the visual impact of someone gasping for air + the toxicity of an extraneous variable being introduced, one which the bird/character has no real control or culpability for... does that make sense?

and most importantly, worry about editing later!!! get your ideas out, build a semi-coherent structure and come back for fine-tuning. when you allow yourself to write without the constraints of what's the most technically apt word here, not only do you have a more joyful time doing it but you also end up focusing more on the meaning and impact of your writing, which is ultimately what gives the gut-punch to a reader

also, i cannot believe you ended the ask with this "you've wrung my heartstrings and made me fall in love with reading all over again" LIKE THAT'S THE COMPLIMENT... of the highest order... i'm beyond honoured. thank you for sharing what my fic means to you with me, it really made my entire day i'm soooo grateful i will cherish your words forever <3

[girlwithnomemory1563]

r u serious

pardon my lack of posts; i actually haven't had much time to make poor decisions! just smoke too much, sleep too little and work all of my days away! :,} so actually, a pat on my back is needed since i've been good these past weeks. despite my lack of activity, i have lots of yapping to partake in. i'll try to include a TL;DR at the end to sum it all up.

so we went out thursday! i slept most of the day and then met up with my friend, jane to get ready together. we smoked with her family (hello) and i ended up leaving with a cool ass ashtray! its a pyramid and it opens up to hold all of my roaches :3

ok ok then we head off to her boyfriends dorm and we pregammed with some sort of peachy alcohol... i forgot. but we drank almost the whole damn handle between the three of us before going so i came into the bar just looking for some funsies. immediately, omg, i spot this tall ass hunk of guy (so cringe but if y'all saw him, heeyunk is all you'd think) so ofc im like, ok mental note made. idk if the universe wanted us to meet or if we're just both tall so we saw each other over the crowd LMAO. anywho, we get in there and start dancing after chatting with all of our friends. i got to see an old coworker from my first job! then got scolded by her for being underaged! she actually unleashed a whole bunch of lore onto me abt this other girl we worked with who i actually had such a huge crush on. blah blah basically the girl cheated on the coworker i ran into with her ex and her now current bf. and then ran off to texas! huh!

ANYWAYS OMG we get back onto the dance floor and i see the large man in my radius again. he was like blonde and had the serial killer glasses and a good ass pedo stache. and he was just sooo beefy you have no idea oh my god. and he was 6'5. 6'5!! i'm a 5'10 girl so he's already won me. so we've like seen each other at this point but i keep dancing obviously. the music was so good that night actually, wasn't the normal overplayed playlist. and while im dancing, he somehow ends up in front of me with my group of friends between us and shoves into my friend! and my friend yells at him so obviously i watch with intent and then im like "guys WAIT hes literally a cadet PLS show some respect" so we all saluted him. and he rolled his eyes and i came. lmao jk but it was stupidly attractive and made me reflect abt myself.

we keep going in and out of the bar to smoke and finally, and i've forgotten how we started talking, but he ends up beside me and my friend so i talked to his hunky ass! he was wearing one of those baja (? i googled the style) hoodie in the bar so im like "are you not hot?" and blah blah blah. and we start dancing. and his strong ass beefy arms stayed around me and he was so big grrr. and this bitch bumped into jane so obv jane apologizes. and then the bitch's little goonie ass friend is like "yeah sorry you were in the way.." pardon? so jane comes and tells me and i whip around real quick to find this munchkin bc hey, i have my snake belly ring in so like obv i can do so damage..../not serious at all. and this man...this hunk man...like moved me to be beside him and was like looking for her too! he was down for the gang!

oh god im yapping and i havent even gotten to the GOOD PARTTT. ok so we all go outside and i sit in the chair next to him and we're just chatting. and then he just seamlessly pulls me into his lap??? didn't even struggle? came once again. so im sitting in his lap chatting with him and we go to get up and leave and this man...picks me up and does curls with me still in his arms....never wanted to ride a man's face more than right then and there. so in this moment i have decided im not leaving without this man. and it wasnt even that hard! i mentioned i was going to sleep in jane's boyfriend's floor and he was like "pls i have a bed for you to sleep in" and i was like "say less". i do need more survival instincts BUT you dont get it. if u were feeling the liquor like i was while feeling his huge buff arm around my neck in the bar then you'd understand that i had no other choice. actually lmao as we left, my other friend stella grabbed me and was like "ma he looks like jeffrey dahmer, think abt it" and did! i did think! with my dick!

so we drive to this dingy frat house in the woods (once again, survival is not my middle name hey) and we get in this room that's not even his btw, and there's a bed with a futon next to it. this jackass tells me im sleeping on that futon! and as we were leaving, he was like "no funny business tho, im going to bed" like ok! right! ok ok! but he was just pranking me after i had already started cleaning it up. so we get in bed and start watching tv and im like, abt to explode from horny since i now have this beef cake down to his underwear next to me in bed, so i say "fr no funny business?" and he's all like "i guess some wouldn't hurt" so we start kissing. ok kisser! not a lot of tongue but i get it! and then i move to give him head eventually and he's like instantly "how tf are u so good at blowjobs" and it really stroked my ego so bad. and he came really quick and it didnt throw me off bc for some reason, every man ive been with has ejaculated prematurely in everything. and then we try to go to bed and we're spooning and his boner is pushing into me so im like "you don't want to have sex?" and he says "nope!" and im like "ok! can i ask why!" and he's like

"i'm waiting until marriage!"

ok! ok...! ...ok... i respect that completely bc he went on abt how its like the highest form of discipline to be able to resist sex. so i'm like "ok just put me in the queue when u start sexing people" and we talk a little bit more and then off to sleep we go. so ive made him cum once so far and ive came zero times. which is ok! no its not. but whatever.

we wake up and like, he seemed sorta into me the previous night but i think he saw what i looked like in normal daylight and with no makeup so it turned him off. but we talk some more and i find out my friends killed my vape the night before so obv i bitch abt it. and hes like "i have another vape for you" and he meant his penis! so i give him head again and then he goes to pee. and this man farts so manly and loudly that i could hear it from the room and i cant even say anything. like i knew his tummy felt so much better after that. but then he gets a cup of coffee, doesn't offer me a cup minus 5 points, and then we talk some more. and he checked himself out in the tv reflection as he talked to me. minus like 2 points bc once again, hes beefy so i get it. then he drives me back to my rink dink ass 2005 honda accord and hes like "ah..it says a lot abt you" Hello? Get tf out of my face??

but yeah i left and we haven't talked since! i doubt i'll ever see him again bc hes currently a student at an out of state college. he went to the college in my town for the previous three years and studied biochem...splooged again. but yeah he was just down here for his birthday weekend. so i'll most likely never see him again but if i do, im coming with a wedding certificate so we can bone.

tl;dr: met an amazingly hunky guy, hyped him up so hard in my head, got to his crib and drops the abstinence bomb. i made him cum twice, i came zero. a lose for me but hey...he was so fucking fine i'd do it again any day of the week.

[filthforfriends]

Hi! I recently had a little cold thus a lot of time on my hands. During my many hours rolled around in my bed I decided to download the epub version of GA from AO3 to my phone to have it among all my ebooks. Upon doing so I have found out it is already TWICE as long as some of my fave books. That completely baffled me.

Here are some thoughts from my recent reread that I have decided to dump on you ❤️:

- the fact that both y/n and D have completely different struggles but are so empathetic and understanding towards eachother is beautiful

- y/n and D are so compatible and a real match made in heaven in the sense that they somehow compliment eachothers weak spots (don’t know if you get what I‘m saying hold on…) they are really good at validating the other’s feelings and insecurities while also genuinely loving/adoring what the other is insecure about organically (I hope you get what I mean haha)

- are y/n and D going to go full rabitt/complete horny idiots mode now that they finally figured out how to knot right? if so I am highly looking forward to it they deserve it

- y/n and D need a vreak from all these health issues they got my poor babies

- speaking of that I hope the implant and all of y/n‘s hormones don’t cause any trouble anymore, poor thing that chaoter was heartbreaking (also will we ever see y/n in heat? 🤔🫠)

- also wanted to highlight chapter 7 it’s an actual masterpiece and I will never get over it… the emotions get me every time

- actually the whole AD2 arc is so beautifully written… D‘s character is so deeply nuanced and the smallest details all make sense as you find out more about him and the reality of his life and personality and health it breaks my heart and heals it at the same time

- the deleted scenes are giving me LIFE 🫠 pls keep them coming I am always thirsty for that sweet sweet content 🥹

That’s all! just came here to geek out about this story to you ❤️ you‘re amazing and I LITERALLY CANNOT WAIT to find out what happens next

all my love 💧

YES we will see rabid behavior and heat/rut. Chapter 7 took so much time and is so long because I rewrote it a lot so there are more deleted scenes where that came from! I just have to finish those scenes up because when I'd get towards the end and realize it wasn't good enough I'd move on before finishing if that makes sense. Those scenes are typically a few hundred words away from being finished and my brain can only do one thing at a time: write new shit or finish old shit, so if may take a while, but everything will be posted.

Also I actually didn't think Guardian Angel was that long. Most of us have seen those fics on AO3 that are 400k+ words and GA is like 125k words. So gives me some real appreciation for certain fan fic writers because like god damn.

Much love towards you as always <3

[localplaguenurse]

Hello it's me again here to yell at you some more about gold as ginkgo because WHAT IS YOUR WRITING???? OMG I'm at ch23 already and so much has happened fcvhbjknklml amazing storytelling!!

Now this is gonna get a biiiit personal mayhaps sorry if that makes you uncomfy maybe?? But I just want to express how much I *adore* the way you portray the protag's anxiety and particularly the internal conflict of coming out of a toxic relationship.

this paragraph, this one in particular got me literally crying. I kid you not I started weeping and then went to talk to my besties because it's so real it hit me so hard. I'm sorry many people can relate of course but I in particular I'm just coming out (~5 months or so) of a 12+ year old toxic relationship and I've been struggling SO HARD, really so hard. And that made me feel validated, that made me feel like yes it's a thing it's normal. (I too had straight up panic attacks that left me with hands shaking and crying)

It looks eerily a lot like something I'd told my best friend weeks ago

anyway idk I just want to say your writing is amazing, the pacing, the characterization. I love that wifey doesn't just "get over" things or "get better" int he way it's usually portrayed, it's organic and slow and she falls back into negative thoughts and stutters and gets anxious but they ARE getting better in the little things, in the confidence, in the healing, in the feeling comfortable.

And it's not just that, the social anxiety, the nonbinary struggle, the feel that you're annoying others and have to be hyper independent never asking for help. I may not fully relate to all of them but you do make them important on the story and I feel like you portray them all so well.

And Gods, Morax/Zhongli is so nice lmao <3 need me a partner like that //hit that is SUPER self-indulgent love it. He's all kind and patient and loving and aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa ;w; I love him your honor <3<3<3

Aaaaanyway loved their outing to the city, love Li Lei's character, loved wifey slowly growing out of their shell, love Morax fucking crashing injured in the middle of the night during a storm and Xiao and the panic and everything, the whole dealing with the Abbes CHILL MAN LITERALL CHILLS OMG. Love the golden smoke yes it is your signature ehe <3

(as a side note, I remember a lot of chapters ago this scene with Morax commenting about a storm incoming and then dissapearing and I was like.... is this some weird ass mandela effect or am I crazy bc I specifically remember this lore of dragons getting horny during the rain but NAAAHHH NO WAY the fic isn't going on that direction Crys pls chill your horny brain BUT THEN HAHAHAHA GUESS WHO WAS LOWKEY RIGHT??? I DID READ EYE OF THE STORM TOO TO BE FAIR. Also on the same line of my horny brain so sorry for this but wigey being so asdfcvhbnjmk about praise and compliment has me going PRAISE KINK PRAISE KINK MORAX PLS!!!!//HIT)

ok that's enough this got way too long I apologize I got emotional n cried again I LOVE YOUR FIC!!!!!

I am going to get emotional, I'm getting the like heavy feeling in my eyes of "oh tears! may be soon!"

I'm also gonna get a little personal because it also ties in with the fic and just, y'know, if we're sharing then I'm gonna share too.

I've said numerous times that wifey's experiences with anxiety stem from my own. I was also writing this fic during a few very difficult parts of my life so I really leaned HARD into those aspects of their character. Something I also mentioned a few times is that I used to write stuff on wattpad, I got burnt out, and then I didn't post fic for five years (which now that I think of it, technically not true because I did post some things on amino back in high school, but y'know). I never really stopped writing, though. Gave me room to experiment and because I'm A) a lifelong fan of the dark and macabre (even though I'm actually a bit of a chicken baby), and B) very depressed/anxious, naturally I leaned more into darker writing. I liked to make it a point of writing happy endings but I would put my charcters through the fucking wringer.

I was also a huge people pleaser in high school that didn't know how to make friends aside from the ones I already had. You can imagine how fucking devastated I was when one day, fuckin completely out of the blue, I was booted from my friend group. I only had like five friends and I kept two of them after that shit. One of those friends was a girl I had known since first grade. For the next two years right up until covid hit I was like "well fuck, Charlotte, guess you've only got two friends now. It's only a matter of time before they get sick of you too." It took me maybe a year for me to realize it wasn't my fault that the people I trusted turned out to be shitty, and it wasn't until like a year or two ago that I was able to actually open up and talk about that shit because I've been terrified to actually be vulnerable with people since then.

That's only like some of my damage, I've also got the eldest daughter and "ah fuck I think I'm undiagnosed neurodivergent" trauma. Two for one combo! Love it here!

So, yeah, I got pretty good at writing and specifically writing about people dealing with toxic relationships. Part of it is venting, part of it is wanting to raise awareness for these things, and part of it is just, idk, I like writing this stuff. I'll write whatever if it's interesting enough.

Anyways, thank you so much!!! There's more I could go on about but that's spoilers, so I just wanna say I'm really really happy you like what I've done! Put my heart and soul into this baby. Also yes this is horrifically self indulgent lmao, this fic was like entirely catered to me and my beta reader and apparently everyone else is into it.

I hope your day or night is well, whatever time it is where you are!

[vanweezer]

jancyweek2022 - day 2

prompt: childhood or promises

this is a picture of my computer screen. in my head it adds to the ~vintage polaroid~ effect.

[ben-talks-art]

Why I like Jaden

"As long as I'm here... As long as we duelists are here, we can continue to believe in our possibility!

Your turn will never come."

One trope in storytelling that I tend to really enjoy is the "reaching your lowest point" trope. I know, shocking, the guy that loves stories about struggles, relationships with misery, and fighting back to earn your victories... Who would have imagined it!!

Things like" The Empire Strikes Back" from Star Wars, "The crossroads of Destiny" from Avatar, the fight against Scar from Fullmetal Alchemist, the season 2 finale of Reboot, basically every episode of Arcane, the entire final arc of Cahinsawman part 1...

I just love when the heroes get their asses kicked super hard, take some time to lick their wounds, and then return even stronger than ever after going through some spiritual or emotional journey so they can get back to the fight, except this time you, the audience, is even more pumped than ever to root for them because now we have a score to settle!

And I feel like the character that left the first big impact on me with this trope was Jaden, from Yu-Gi-Oh! GX.

What's funny is that, even before his "fall from grace" moment, Jaden was already a character that I liked a lot.

I was super into his cheerful and upbeat attitude while playing the duels. This was a small thing that kinda bothered me about characters like Yami or Yusei, they never seemed like they were having fun while playing. I like that Jaden would look like he was having a blast even when the opponent was winning because just enjoyed their cool boss monsters or weird strategies that much.

Even when he lost he would just be like "Man... That was still awesome, though! Let's do it again sometime!" He was just such a chill dude, the kind you want to hang out and play with.

I also was a huge fan of his deck. "Elemental Heroes" was an archetype that mixed a ton of things that appealed to me in particular. The use of superheroes reminded me of Marvel and DC movies, the use of the elements reminded me of Avatar and Xiaolin Showdown, and the use of fusion reminded me of Dragon Ball Z, Digimon Adventure 02, and Megaman: Battle Network.

A big part of why I liked the duels in GX was that it always felt exciting to see what fusion he was going to use next, which heroes would he combine, and what they would look like. It was like in Ben 10 where part of the fun was finding out what new alien would be used next. It just brings a very kid-like joy.

Although I really wasn't a fan of the whole animal alien thing they tried to do later... To me it felt like fixing what wasn't broken.

But yeah, the real thing that made Jaden stand out so much was his journey back from hell.

I think this was probably a common thing at the time, have a character fall so they can rise back again, but this was my first time seeing it done in such a way. It wasn't just that he took a hit, it was that the hit itself was his own fault.

Jaden often receives negative comments from the fanbase that he is too cheerful, too upbeat, and that he doesn't take things seriously enough (because God forbid we have someone actually enjoying playing card games... ), so it was interesting to see him going through an experience that makes him completely question his life choices and wonder if he needs to change before progressing.

Like I mentioned in my Zuko post, I love when characters look back at their own actions and try to wonder if someone's getting hurt because of the way they live their lives, and this is exactly what Jaden goes through.

His arc isn't just a "reaching my lowest point" moment (they did that in season 2 already), it's also a "reality check" combined with a "redemption arc" where he needs to look at his own flaws and grow from it so he can make up for his mistakes.

And what I really appreciate is that his mistakes aren't just boiled down to "don't have fun playing." His mistake was that he didn't take into consideration that there is a time and place for everything.

It's not that he should be always serious or always cheerful, it's that he needs to know not to live under extremes and realize when to be serious, when to be cheerful, and especially, when to consider the situation of those around him and their own struggles as well.

This is one of the few series that actually feel like they make use of the "power of friendship," because a big problem Jaden was also having was that he was starting to get too strong for his own good and ended up relying on his friends less and less, and it was that reconsideration that caused his downfall and only when he realized that someone was suffering more than he was that he started his journey to truly maturing.

I feel like Jaden is one of those characters where you can analyze and take away tons of interesting themes and messages. Loss, growth, friendship, learning to enjoy life, knowing how to enjoy life, sympathy, support, sacrifice...

Whether it is kid-like Jaden or adult-like Jaden, there is always something about him that brings a smile to my face.

Favorite character list>>

[sukirichi]

dutifully yours. [01]

Attached to the could’ve been’s of a promised happily ever after with the Crown Prince disguised under a scheme for power and greed, you are torn between choosing your happiness — or abandoning it to fulfill your duty as the future Queen.

→ unedited bcos i’m brave lazy. implied patriarchy. angst in future chapters. pure romance and fluff for now. royalty au. eventual smut. prince naoya !! i love him sm i could cry. this fic will break me, okay. naoya is close to canon but with my twist if that makes sense. drama in future chapters. oh and listen to this while reading <3

→ massive shoutout to my besties for always hyping me and helping me uwu, i present this token of prince naoya being an ideal husband okay cry cry i love him sm im crying. anyways pls enjoy bcos i poured my heart out to this and bcos i want more people in the naoya fucker club :>

one | next (to be posted)

Ever since the day your mother taught you how to read, you’ve had your nose buried in a book. Losing yourself in different worlds, swooning over fictional princes, and fantasizing for a love story ripped out of fairytale itself with such burning, passionate romance – you’d been through it all, dreamt of it all. And yet, you struggled to stop yourself from tugging at your dress.

The tight corset hadn’t even been the main focus of your worries, and neither was the heavy rivière resting on your collarbones.

“Would you stop fidgeting?” Beside you, your mother pursed her lips, fingers decorated with jewels stopping in their movements of fanning herself. The temperature hadn’t been particularly high inside the limousine that evening. You supposed it was the mere sight of you tugging and gulping audibly every now and then, gloved hands running over the hems of your collar.

You ducked your head down. “Sorry, Mother. I can’t help it.”

“Dear, your anxiety is written all over your face,” she sighed, turning your face to her as she cupped your cheeks. Smiling tenderly like a mother always did, your heart felt soothed even by the slightest bit. You wished she could keep holding you like this – like you were a fragile flower she was afraid of breaking; a fragile flower that needed more care handled than most. Tonight, however, you felt a hundred years older. Like you’d accidentally clicked on fast forward and got launched to the future. A future that seemed so unclear yet so...perfect. So right.

“How would the Prince fancy you if you’re sweating bullets like that? It’s not a good look for a marquess’ daughter.”

At the mention of the Crown Prince, your heart sank again. “My apologies, Mother. I’m just rather nervous. It’s the Crown Prince we’re talking about here.”

“He is quite the looker, isn’t he?” she giggled behind her fan, “Strong and handsome, as well.”

“My ladies. You are not fantasizing over the Crown Prince in my presence, are you?”

Crossing her leg over the other, your mother leaned forwards, elbows on her knees as she winked at your father. The marquess had his torso half twisted from the passenger seat, glaring playfully at your mother’s unabashed features. “It is of no seriousness, My Lord. I’m simply easing your daughter’s nerves.”

Your father sighed in worry. “What’s got you so worked up, child? You are beautiful. The Prince would be blind to not notice you.”

Each fibre in your body screamed in desperation for your father to be right. Tonight was not just any other night – the entire Kingdom, including noblewomen, foreign royals, and unwed daughters from honourable families had been invited to the Zen’in Castle for one purpose only: to find his Crown Prince a suitable wife, one that would be fit to be the next Queen as well. As the daughter of the marquess, you’d naturally received the invitation. It felt just like yesterday when the mail arrived and you’d cheered so much in joy the chickens went flying out of their coops, your horses galloping and whinnying at surprise, and now you here – minutes away from the palace where you were soon to be deemed worthy or unworthy to be beside His Highness.

With a shaky smile, you dug your nails into your thighs. “Well, we’ve only met once, Father. I doubt the Prince would remember me.”

“Just smile, darling. You will do great.”

To no one’s surprise, the Zen’in Castle brimmed with people and esteemed guests. Men and women danced with one another as muted chatters and chuckles blended in with the grand royal orchestra, everyone dressed to the nines and making you feel completely out of place.

The moment you’d been welcomed by the knights and led to the palace doors, your dress began to feel tighter than usual, your ribs clenching uncomfortably from the pressure. Your hands had not stopped trembling either, not even when you hid it behind your back and nodded at the people passing by. There were governor-generals, dukes, earls, professors and royal advisors and even families of the royal family’s inner circle of knights. Everyone looked like they belonged here. Chatting amongst one another over the finest of wines or discussing conspiracies on where the Kingdom of Zen’in would be in the next sixty years of the future King’s reign, no one here seemed to be out of place.

Everyone except you.

A warm hand was suddenly placed on the small of your back, making you gasp. Your mother’s smile was nothing short of warm as she held you close to her one last time, leaving a kiss on your forehead. You didn’t even realize how much you shook until she clasped her hands with yours. “Calm down, dear,” she reminded, “You’ll be on your own now. This is where we leave you since we’re not supposed to mingle with potential princesses.”

“Mother!” Your eyes widened in embarrassment. Looking around frantically, you bit your lip in fear someone must’ve heard.

Of course, while it would be no surprise most guests – if not all – hoped that their daughter would be the Crown Prince’s chosen fiancée, it still felt wrong to boldly assume such when you could barely keep up with the events of tonight.

However, your mother merely laughed. “I am proud of you, dear. Never forget that. It doesn’t matter whether you are chosen or not. We’re only here for formality and respect to the King and Queen’s demands.”

“You say that as if the Crown Prince really would not bother with me.”

“We didn’t mean that,” your father cut in, a flute of champagne already nested between his calloused fingers. Ever since you arrived, he’d been snatched away by fellow earls and barons, disappearing into the crowd for a ‘hearty conversation over one’s lands.’ You knew better than that, though. That statement always translated to which leader got to have more chances to wine and dine with the King, to which your family was ridiculously reminded of that you’d been stationed to the most faraway land where even hearing news from the royal papers was but a privilege.

“Just be yourself, alright? And enjoy the party. It’s about time you met with girls your own age and made some friends.”

“I – Father, wait!”

A slender young woman slithered to your side out of nowhere, her golden brown eyes following the silhouettes of your parents. It wasn’t long before they completely disappeared. Left alone with the stunning woman that was – for some reason – dressed in a plain black curve hugging dress too modest for tonight’s appropriateness, you took three steps away in caution. “You must be from way up North,” she noted, her head to the tipped to the side. “I don’t think I’ve seen you here before.”

God, was she beautiful. Long, thick eyelashes and short hair chopped in messy yet elegant curves, you struggled to hold her gaze. “Oh, yes, I come from the Terratian Borders. My family is stationed there under His Majesty’s orders.”

She hummed to herself. “The Terratian Borders are mostly forests and fields, no? The last time my family and I visited there, I came across the loveliest dandelions I’ve ever laid eyes on. Shame they died on the way back,” offering her hand – again, bare and empty with decorations yet still littered with faint scars and cuts – she beamed at you. “I’m Mai, by the way. Mai Zen’in.”

Zen’in?

Hands cupping your mouth, you bowed deep until your back ached. “Lady Mai!” you shut your eyes closed, unable to live with the shame. Mai Zen’in; one of the iconic twin pair from the extended Zen’in royal family, both a fashion icon and a legend for being a rumoured female knight. To have her in your presence was an honour. “My apologies for not recognizing you any sooner, Lady Mai!”

“Stand up, I’m not a royal,” she sniggered, “We’re just relatives of the actual monarch, but don’t let the family name fool you. The Crown Prince barely even acknowledges us being of the same blood.”

Albeit hesitant, you followed her gestures of making you stand up. You straightened your back and cleared your throat, fighting the urge to go haywire the moment his name was brought into the conversation. Not only would you be seeing Prince Naoya again in real life for the first time in years, but you’d also made acquaintances with his distant niece. However, his name was spoken with malice.

Frowning, you faced Lady Mai in all seriousness. “Prince Naoya? Why so?” Lady Mai looked at you like you’d grown two heads.

“He’s an ass, that’s why.”

“I-I don’t think he is,” you defended, “The Prince has been nothing but kind to me.”

“I didn’t know he was capable of kindness,” she muttered more so under her breath, low enough you were unsure whether you were supposed to hear it in the first place. Lady Mai then shook her head to herself before stealing a flute from a waiter passing by. Chucking it your way, her face turned dark and grim. “Take it as free advice: stay as far away from his as possible. The Crown Prince is nothing but good news.”

“Is it because he has lots of lovers?” you inquired with a small voice, “Uhm – well – It was an assumption. With a title and handsomeness like that, it would make sense everyone would want to be the Crown Prince’s lover.”

Lady Mai’s lip curled upwards. “Prince Naoya won’t bother with lovers. He is too occupied for that.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“Heard from whom?”

“The Royal Declaration from His Majesty himself,” you said, “Was it not the purpose of this ball? To find worthy candidates to be the Crown Prince’s betrothed? His coronation is coming soon.”

“Right. I forgot today was technically a bridal market,” she scratched the edge of her brow, falling silent for a moment. Her eyes scanned the lively crowd for a brief moment – watching with you as everyone laughed and danced to their heart’s content – the grand final event of the routine personal dance with the Crown Prince himself slowly approaching to reality. “You are joining in the festivities, are you not? Later, when he arrives, he shall meet you.”

“I am obligated to as a noble bachelorette, though I doubt His Highness would even look my way. There are far richer noblewomen here and even daughters of duke that would be perfect as his wife. ”

“You may have a point for that,” she hummed to herself, unaware that her agreement to the Crown Prince not paying attention to you left a sting both in your ego and heart. Not that it lasted long, for Lady Mai was already tugged on the arm by another equally fiercely beautiful woman – her older twin, Maki Zen’in. Soon to be governon-general of the Kingdom.

Lady Mai smiled in apology. “I need to go now since I’m not a part of this event. But hey, if ever I come around to visit the Borders again, perhaps you could entertain me?”

“I would be honoured to, Lady Mai.”

“You are sweet and innocent,” it was her sister who spoke this time, glasses perched high on her nose that concealed the wariness of her gaze. “I hope the Crown Prince never gets to your routine.”

“I’m sorry?”

“It’s nothing; she was talking to herself. Maki does that a lot,” Lady Mai’s forced chuckles were barely heard from the music. “You enjoy the party now. Don’t drink too much lest you want to embarrass yourself in everyone’s eyes and be talk of the Kingdom. Prince Naoya would hate it if you took the attention away from him.”

“Oh, uhm...”

“It’s a joke, Lady Y/N. Relax.”

You bowed once more. “My apologies.”

“The dance is about to begin,” Maki tapped on your shoulder, making you look up right where her eyes zeroed in. And exactly in the middle of the grandiose hall, under the sparkling golden chandeliers where he made all the gold in the world look incomparable next to him, the Crown Prince stood in his fully glory. Blond hair with the ends stained of midnight gelled back to reveal his forehead, the Crown Prince’s beauty never failed to shine. Whether it be in the papers, in the tabloids, in the billboards that you passed on the way to the city, or from way back when you met him for the first time as a naive, innocent teen – Crown Prince Naoya came straight out of a magazine cover.

In the back of your head, you could hear either of the twins murmuring good luck. Maybe both of them had said it – you had no idea. All of your attention, all the sensibility and coherence of your state had been switched the next instant, as if your heart and soul was born for the sole purpose of being bewitched by your Crown Prince.

And as if feeling someone’s gaze on him, the Crown Prince’s eyes trailed over the crowd. Almost boredly, his sharp eyes bounced from one giggling woman to another, the ends of his lips smirking upwards for just the tiniest bit. It must’ve stroked his ego. Until his eyes connected with yours. The Crown Prince’s eyebrows knitted together. You had no idea how you looked in that moment, and quite frankly, you didn’t care. Because the Crown Prince was looking at you, and you were looking at him with hearts in your eyes along with your heart pulsing at the tip of your tongue.

“Let us begin,” his lips moved from the distance, “Play the music. I shall dance with my bride.”

The air shifted in a split second. Murmurs were thrown over the room, women and men alike turning pale. Even the orchestra was stunned from the Crown Prince’s entrance – and it hadn’t even been dramatic to his standards – yet the whole castle fell mum from just a few of his words. A few seconds later, the crowd recomposed itself, and the strings began to dance along with its bows.

You are pushed into the crowd. Nearly colliding into the arms of another, you quietly thank the masked man who was to be your first partner of the night.

All the men joining the dance floor dressed with the intention of making the Crown Prince shine. Prince Naoya stood out from the throng of white as per the colour code, his blood red uniform as both Prince with the  golden crest of the military leader pinned to his right breast. The other men meant to be filler partners until all the potential brides got to their designated three minutes with the Prince were all dressed in black, faces covered behind a plain black mask. None were allowed to talk. None were allowed to utter even a word, and so your partner pursed his lips in displeasure at your apology.

Whatever. You just had to wait a few more rounds before the song finished and transitioned into a new one; the song where you’d been informed would be your time alone with the Prince.

You’d been so lost in your head you barely breathed the entire dance. From partner to partner, you blanked. Your heart drummed so wildly in its cage it begged to come out, and strings of apologies were let out each time your masked partners grimaced for a brief second when their hands came in contact with your sweaty ones. Around you, all the lovely women smiled and danced graciously, mouths moving in unreadable conversations shared with the Crown Prince. Not once did you look at the six partners you’ve danced with. Not once did you worry about tripping on your own feet. Not once did you care that some of the masked men held you a little too roughly for your comfort. Your entire reason for existing in that moment was to witness the Crown Prince himself, mirroring his frown that got deeper and deeper with each woman retreating to the sea of people he’d rejected.

Not once did you even think about being one of them – the girls who’ve ducked their heads down as their parents comforted them over not being the chosen one, of bringing ‘dishonour’ to their families that the mighty Crown Prince had deemed them unworthy. Tears streamed down their faces until black ink followed afterwards, lips trembling from silent sobs.

Despite their broken prides – although there was that minority who simply sighed in relief after returning to their own families – no one would dare interrupt the Crown Prince’s dances.

All of these thoughts crossed your mind too late and at the exact time your masked partner pulled away from you, body half bent in a bow with his arm outstretched to the side. Following where he was gesturing at, your eyes met the Crown Prince’s tall and lean stature, a few blond fringes now fallen from his movements.

Even though a thin layer of sweat shone from his face, Prince Naoya remained ethereal.

And like a snake charmed by the musician’s seductive tone, your feet moved on its own. Fingers stretching until it met with the Crown Prince’s large and warm ones, you were now in front of him. With him. Holding him, touching him, meeting him eye for eye and realizing – gold. His eyes burned a deep shade of gold, elegantly rich and heartbreakingly stunning your heart ached.

Before you knew it, your hands began to tremble, feeling as if your body had been corded into a corset three sizes smaller. You could not breathe, and the Crown Prince took notice.

“You are stiff. Do I make you uncomfortable?” Good Saint. If only possible, you would’ve closed your eyes and basked in the deep warmth of his voice. It reverberated from deep within, breathed out with an air of natural authority and profound confidence it made your knees weak. As if sensing his effect on you (though for the wrong reasons, it seemed), Prince Naoya hummed to himself. “This routine shall last for a few minutes before I can let you go, I’m afraid.”

You instantly realized the implications of your silence. “N-not at all, Your Highness! I am honoured to be dancing with you.”

“There is no honour in a choreographed dance. Everyone will dance with me. It’s nothing special.”

Your heart fell. Prince Naoya not only sounded dejected, but detached as well. As if he found no pleasure or specialty in this event, at a time where he had every opportunity to meet his lover, and that this ball was merely a task to be checked off in his already long list of responsibilities. It wasn’t disappointment, per se, but rather melancholy that left a bitter taste in your mouth. Not because Prince Naoya held little to no regards for something you treasured, but because he sounded terribly alone. Like he was simply waiting for it to end out of discomfort.

“It’s special to me, Your Highness,” you blurted out faster than you could stop yourself. For a moment, you feared you may have offended him, but the Crown Prince only laughs.

And when he did – saint, when he laughed – his eyes crinkled into half moons, pearly whites flashing against the bright lights and his whole chest shook with amusement.

You’d never seen him smile this way before.

Prince Naoya’s laughter didn’t cease. Around you, your gut instincts told that people were now beginning to look; the Crown Prince’s deep rumbles of laughter sounded exquisitely like music as well, after all. “ Is it special to you because you are now dancing and within the Crown Prince’s proximity? As much as I presume how exhilarating it might be for those who mostly see me in the papers and in the tabloids, I assure you, dancing with your Prince is not an honour. Especially when you are all sent the invitations based on your status and not your worthy traits.”

“It’s special to me,” you mumbled, growing shy all of a sudden when the Crown Prince nodded at you to continue. “Because...because it reminds me of the first time we met.”

The Crown Prince hummed in amusement.

“We have met before?”

“Yes, Your Highness. I’m from the Terratian Borders – my father is a loyal servant of His Majesty. You visited the borders when you were eighteen and I was sixteen. Do you remember it, Your Highness? You stormed in my private library.”

Indeed, the young barely-out-of-his-teens Crown Prince barged into your home’s library years ago. You were not previously informed he and his parents would be visiting since they arrived wordlessly, so you were stuck in your chambers as usual, killing time if not for sleeping and tending to the animals. Perched on a ladder, you attempted to reach for a book on the upper shelf when your foot slipped beneath you. At the age of sixteen, you were dramatic enough to say your life flashed before your eyes. You would’ve screamed then had strong arms not appeared out of nowhere, the Crown Prince staring at you with wide, golden eyes as they were now, his breathy rasped as he asked, are you okay, my lady?

The mere recollection of that fateful memory had your cheeks warming in delight. “You were so charming and heroic back then. Even when I had no idea you were a royal, I would have still believed you to be princely,” you said rather absentmindedly, blinking once then twice at your words. “Of course, it’s understandable if you do not remember, Your Highness!”

“My apologies. I do not remember, though Terratia is a wonderful place. Such a shame I was not informed beforehand they had a lovely daughter.”

“Thank you, Your Highness,” you cheered back, cheeks and jaw beginning to ache from how wide you were smiling. But could anyone blame you? You felt absolutely silly that you were a breath away from passing out minutes ago, and now here you were, dancing with the Crown Prince and sharing memories with him like it was a daily occurrence. The words it’s true love when you feel at peace with them suddenly rang back at your head from that latest romance novel you read, and you turned away, hoping the Crown Prince would not read your thoughts to your face. However, Prince Naoya’s lips pursed into a thin line, all traces of humour now disappeared. “I’m sorry – should I not have laughed?”

“No, I don’t mind,” he mused with his jaw locked tight, “I just haven’t seen anyone react that way before.”

“Like what?”

“Like my words meant the entire universe to them. I may dare even say you look terribly in love, though I cannot blame you on that one, can I?”

Prince Naoya shook his head the minute the words left his mouth. Forcing himself to believe it couldn’t be real, perhaps, you truly did not know anymore. Your only plan for tonight was to see the Crown Prince and get to live out your dream of seeing him once more even for just a brief moment before you travelled back home while he married another, and yet – “Your Highness, I’m in love with you. I have always been since the day we met.”

You could no longer stop the words. The voice at the back of your head begged you to shut up and not cause a scene, that your time had passed up and people were staring, yet you remained in his arms no matter how much you wanted nothing more than for the ground to swallow you whole.

“Please do not misunderstand me, Your Highness. I did not come here to attempt to steal your heart and be your wife, though I will admit I have dreamt of meeting you again for so many moons. I...I only want to tell you this. That I love you and even though it was a brief moment, I think the love I’ve always read about felt real and possible for the first time in my life,” chuckling nervously, you gather to courage to face him, adoration shining for the Crown Prince stood shock still before you, however stunned he may be. “I love you, Your Highness. I love you. And to whoever lucky woman you choose to be your betrothed, I hope she takes care of you and showers you with all the affection you are deserving of. You would make a great King. So God help his Crown Prince, and may you lead us all into a better world.”

Prince Naoya did not budge a muscle. His eyes remained hard on yours, breath warm as his nostrils fumed. With each passing second that he did not speak, you grew restless and tugged your arm away from his hold with a disgraceful smile.

You’d truly crossed your line. The repercussions to be faced for this impoliteness would destroy your family’s honour. You had to leave. “Your Highness? The song has changed. It’s time to let go—”

The Crown Prince inched close enough until his hair tickled your cheeks, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine as he pulled you close, close enough that your lower bodies touched. Skin ablaze with heat, you dared not move an inch. “Do you mean it?” he demanded lowly, his fingers ghosting over your wrist to hold you in place. “Do you truly love me? Not for what I have, not for who I was born to be, but me as a person itself?”

Closing your eyes to shudder in a deep breath, you exhaled. “Of course, Your Highness. Even if you were not born as a Prince, I’m sure I would’ve still loved you in a different universe.”

“But I do not know you.”

“We don’t have to know each other, Your Highness, and we never will. Once you let me go, I’ll return to the shadows where I belong, and I will continue supporting you until the day of your coronation.”

“And if I refuse to let you go?” he clicked his tongue, “What will you do then?”

The Crown Prince’s spicy perfume must be an aphrodisiac or hypnotizer of sorts. Everything he did messed with your mind that it was too late – the music had stopped and people were no longer drinking or chatting. Everyone’s eyes were on you and the Crown Prince. You could only imagine how controversial this position must be; with his lips trailing dangerously close to that sensitive spot in your neck where you nearly moaned. You really needed to leave.

“P-people are looking, Your Highness. You do not want this affair with someone you won’t choose—”

“Who said I won’t choose you?” Finally, he pulled away. But Prince Naoya never once tore his gaze away from yours, nor did he allow you to look at anyone but him as he caresses your jaw so light and feathery you wondered if he was truly there.“Who said I haven’t laid my eyes on you the moment you walked in here? This ball is for naught because of you, Lady Y/N. I’ve already made my choice, and you helped me confirm it as soon as you danced with me.”

“Your Highness...”

“Look at me,” he ordered, your eyes flitting from his pinkish lips to his sharp nose and then to his fox-like gaze. Only this time, Prince Naoya was no longer harsh. “Don’t be scared.”

“But they’re looking.”

“You are with me, of course they’ll look,” he teased, “They wish to be you right now. But ignore them and dance one more time with me.”

It wasn’t like you had a choice, but did it matter? One nod from him was all it took before the orchestra fumbled back to their spots and a new song played, Ode of Moonlight Lovers, and the Crown Prince was guiding you back to where he had originally danced with you.

From the corners of your eyes, you caught a glimpse of your parents with their mouths gaped open; your father looking like he was on the verge of passing out. However, you felt nothing but joy, nothing but the adrenaline pumping through your veins as he danced and twirled you in his arms. When the music stopped and you were both panting for air with silly smiles on your face, it dawned on you that you were with the Prince. No, rather, it was only you and the Prince alone. Even in the sea of people whose faces began to blur, he prevailed crystal clear.

You could recognize him anywhere, find him everywhere.

Prince Naoya stepped impossibly closer until your chests touched, hearts beating as one. Cupping your jaw, he was near enough that he swallowed all your shaky breaths with a small, teasing smile like you both shared a secret the entire world could not know.

“Do I still make you nervous?”

Laughing, you nodded. “Yes, Your Highness. I feel like I’m going to explode.”

“It’s beloved now,” he corrected, face inching closer and closer to a point you could count the number of his lower lashes. “And what do lovers do to seal their union?”

“M-Marriage?”

“Close, but this is much better.”

If anyone were to tell you that you would have a love story ripped out straight from a fairytale, you would’ve laughed at their faces. You were no Cinderella, nor were you a goddess of beauty that could’ve possibly caught the Crown Prince’s eye. Yet, his soft lips were on yours, kissing you with as much passion you could only dream of that you cried.

Strong hands guiding the back of your waist, Prince Naoya dipped you lower to the ground – the grand of finish of his dance. He had chosen his bride.

The crowd cheered and rejoiced all around you, making you smile into the kiss. Fisting his collar to bring him closer to yours, your mouth burst into metaphorical fireworks as soon as his tongue mingled with yours for an experimental taste. He was bitter yet sweet; expensive wine resting on his tongue, yet a delicate vanilla sat heavily on his soft lips that molded with yours. It was a taste you could spend forever being addicted on. And you were crying, crying so much your chest ached and the Prince’s cheeks grew damp from yours. You’d dreamt of this for so long, too long now.

Prince Naoya slowly pulled you away, his thumb wiping the tears away from the pads of your cheeks with tenderness in his touch. However, the Prince was not satisfied. The crowd whooped as he leant down to kiss your forehead. “You are mine now, my princess.”

Looping his hands with yours, the Crown Prince led you out of the castle. The crowd parted naturally to make way for the new couple, and you were left staring at his broad back and the tuft of blond hair where you’d soon find out how soft it would be. Sending one last glance to your crying parents, you waved goodbye. You had no idea where the Crown Prince would take you but you were already bunching your dress up, heart completely filled with trust you did not question it. What mattered tonight and for the rest of your life was that it felt right. That it was him – your beloved Prince Naoya Zen’in and soon to be husband – that you’d follow through the moon and back.

[ahtsumu]

long shots ; miya osamu

pairing: miya osamu x f!reader

synopsis: miya osamu is the teacher’s assistant for food chemistry i. you can’t stop thinking about him.

tag(s): college!au, slow burn, TA!miya osamu, grad student!reader, fluff, reader is a go-getter!! ; warning(s): profanity, suggestive themes, talk of insecurities and imposter syndrome ; wc: 5.6k

a/n: happy birthday to @starrysamu​! i love u. pls excuse any errors. i’ll weed them out later! btw this fic is not a sugar daddy au LOL

HIS NAME IS Miya Osamu and he always looks like he has it all figured out. Comes in every class with his black hair perfectly tousled, the sleeves of his dark button-up rolled to his elbows, a cup of coffee in one hand and the strap of that black messenger bag in another.

“He drives a BMW, did ya know?” Isla says in your ear one morning. Your only friend in Food Chemistry I gives you a pointed look before sitting back in her chair in the lecture hall with a smirk on her face. “Saw it this morning. Bet he’s loaded.” The two of you watch the subject in question walk across the classroom and settle in his seat at the table in the corner.

“Shut up,” you whisper with wide eyes. A grin–– far from innocent–– makes its way onto your face. “Imagine being Miya Osamu’s sugar baby.”

“He’s not old enough to be a sugar daddy.” Isla looks at her nails disinterestedly. “And that’s too many AUs in one. He’s already the TA, for god’s sake. This isn’t some shitty Wattpad novel.”

A light giggle slips out of your lips. “I can see the title already. My Sugar Daddy is the TA?!”

Now, if anyone had been listening in on your conversation, they would’ve assumed many things about you. The first being that you’re both gold-diggers. This is untrue–– at least, in your case. Isla, you’re not so sure about, given how your friendship only goes back about one month. But she tags you in memes on Instagram so maybe it’s as real as real gets. Their second assumption would be that you have a big fat crush on your TA. That one’s complicated, mostly because it’s true, but only kinda. It all started in the second week of school when Isla caught you staring at Osamu and slipped you a post-it note with both your initials encircled in a heart. And, because you’re shameless with a good sense of humour, you made a show of kissing it while she was looking. And thus began your meaningless but incredibly entertaining, satirical, co-written fantasy about Miya Osamu.

It also didn’t help that on the first essay you got back, Isla’s paper had been marked up with “are you sure?”s and “this is a jump”s, while yours had “excellent reasoning” and “insightful analysis”. You’d even gotten a little comment at the bottom: y/n, fantastic work. you should speak up in class more often. –– OM

But Miya Osamu doesn’t play favourites because the next week you’d gotten another essay back, this time with another comment at the bottom: y/n, not your best work. you could’ve done better by connecting your first paragraph with the second using grant’s reading. conclusion lacked punch, too. all the best. –– OM

Every time you’d read the words scrawled in blue ink, you’d felt a pair of eyes on you. But you chalk it up to Osamu being a careful grader. A good TA. Someone who cares about his students.

Isla calls bullshit on that. You’re not really sure how to feel about her stance.

The classroom door opens and shuts again. You don’t have to look at your phone to know that it’s nine on the dot. Instead, you and Isla straighten your backs, pull out your notebooks, and focus. Your no-nonsense professor says “good morning” in her usual perky manner before jumping right into her keynote presentation.

“Did you all find the reading okay?” Professor Lee asks an hour into the lecture.

A chorus of “yes”s fill the air. You bite your lip, wondering if revealing that you didn’t understand shit will out you as the class idiot. Or maybe your silence is telling enough–– maybe the people in the seats beside you have noticed the grimace on your face and are having thoughts like ‘gee whiz, am I glad I’m not dumb like her’. Heat rushes to your cheeks. Sometimes you really wonder if you’re smart enough to be here. Occurrences like these do nothing to dispel your insecurities.

You vaguely hear her ask something like, “Any thoughts about the reading?” It’s not that you’re actually dumb. It’s just that this class is ridiculously hard for an introductory course, even for a graduate programme. From the start of the semester til now, fifteen people have dropped the class. There’s just twenty of you left. Guess a ridiculously hot TA can’t save a course’s drop-rate.

Before you can make your mind up on what to say, your professor moves on from her question.

As you look off to the side of the room for a break from your thoughts, you find a pair of blue-grey eyes pointed in your direction.

Everything about you, from the expression on your face to the way your muscles tense, makes you look like a deer caught in headlights–– even though he was the one caught staring in the first place. So maybe your shamelessness works on a scale.

Miya Osamu lifts one corner of his mouth.

And as if the exchange hadn’t happened at all, he looks back down at his laptop and continues typing.

The rest of the lecture goes through one ear and out the other.

“Everyone, I believe Osamu has something he wants to say,” Professor Lee says as everyone begins packing their bags.

The raven-haired TA slides out of his seat and sits on top of his desk. “Yeah.” Osamu clears his throat and crosses his arms over his chest. You notice how the muscles in his arms bulge from the movement.

“Whipped,” Isla mutters, grinning mischievously.

“Him for me,” you whisper back, though your eyes do travel back to his face where they should’ve been all along. Osamu catches your gaze and holds it. And then he looks away again.

“Now, I know you’re all Nobel prizewinners in the making,” he begins, garnering a round of snickers and giggles from your classmates. Most people say that cliques dissolve in college. That there’s no such thing as popularity amongst graduate students. That much, you agree with. But no one ever said anything about popular teacher’s assistants. Especially smart, attractive, witty teacher’s assistants like Miya Osamu. “But in case you didn’t understand the reading or would like to develop a deeper understanding of it, don’t hesitate to email me. I’ll try to host a review session all of us can attend.”

Professor Lee smiles appreciatively at Osamu, adding, “That’s a wonderful idea, Osamu. Guys, please take this opportunity if you struggled with the reading. I know eighty pages is a lot, but our next three classes are structured around the concepts in the reading and the mid-term next week will almost exclusively be about it, too.”

Well, shit.

To: m.osamu@hqu.edu

Hi Osamu,

I was wondering if I could get some help with the reading from last class. To be frank, I couldn’t make it past page 15 and I’m lost like a snot-faced five-year-old in a shopping mall on Black Friday. Sorry. Thanks in advance!

Regretfully,

Y/N

MS Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

From: m.osamu@hqu.edu

no problem. is 5 pm tomorrow at jack’s okay? we start on the concepts from the reading next class so i want to get you up to speed asap. let me know. thanks.

OM

PhD Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

It’s five minutes to five when you pull into the parking lot of Jack’s Diner. The shiny, retrofuturistic eatery is a university favourite but the empty parking lot tells you it’s completely deserted right now (and rightfully so–– who eats dinner before six?). The black BMW parked a few spots from your car, however, says that you’re not alone.

Osamu’s figure comes into view as you reach for the handle to the front door of Jack’s. The twenty-six-year-old sits by himself at one of the bright red tables in the back, typing away on his dark grey laptop.

His head lifts up at the sound of the opening door. Osamu calls out your name and waves you over.

“Hi,” you greet with a smile, sitting down across from him.

“Hey.”

You look around before leaning forward on the table. “Is anyone else coming?”

“No.” Osamu sits back in his seat. “I thought about hosting one big group, but then I realised that it’d probably be stressful for the staff here.” He nods his head in the direction of the kitchen. “And I had a hunch that everyone would have different questions. Forcing everyone to review concepts they already know is a waste of time.”

At first, you nod. That makes sense. But then you furrow your brows. “So how long have you been here?”

Osamu blinks. He hadn’t expected you to ask about him. “Hmm? Oh.” He taps his phone to check the time. “Just a while.”

Quirking a brow, you ask, “And how long is ‘a while’ to you?”

“Seven hours,” he admits, chuckling lightly when he sees your jaw drop. “A lot of people had questions. They just don’t act like they do. Anyway, time flies. Really, it does.” Quickly, he clears his throat and sits forward. “So, about your email.” He grins. “Not sure if you meant it to be funny, but it was.”

“I’m glad my distress was entertaining for you. Do you TA just to watch grad students suffer?”

“Perks of the job,” Osamu says. His grin widens when you giggle. He’s never heard you laugh before and he realises at that moment that it’s really nice. And then that same grin falters. Gracefully, of course, and imperceptibly to you. But not to him. Is it okay for him to be… thinking things like that? About a student? But you’re not really his student since he’s just the TA. Right? Osamu ignores the weird feeling that comes over him and clasps his hands together at the edge of his laptop. “Back to your email. Can ya tell me what you’re confused about?”

Three hours and two Impossible Burgers later, you suddenly understand everything about food molecules so well that you wonder why you’d even been confused in the first place. But besides that, you’ve also picked up things about Osamu. As a person and not an idea. Not that you’d been actively searching for fun facts about your TA. But they’d stuck to your brain like gum at the bottom of a desk. He likes to slip sarcastic quips into a conversation every now and then. Eats burgers upside down (“The right way,” as he’d said, smirking). Is friendlier than he looks.

“You’re really good at explaining things,” you comment as Osamu shuts his laptop closed.

“Well, I kinda have to be,” he says. And maybe it’s the mental fatigue catching up on him or the fact that he’s real fond of the reason why he can break big concepts down into morsels but suddenly, the rest of his thoughts spill out his mouth like wine. “I have a twin brother with potato salad for brains.”

“Oh?”

And before he can stop himself, he tells you about Miya Atsumu, the pro-athlete you’ve definitely heard of but never gave too much thought. And then you hold onto the fact that they were both on the volleyball team and you ask of which school, so then he tells you about Inarizaki, the high school he attended, and then his decision not to go pro to go to college, and then––

“Sorry,” he laughs, cheeks turning pink. “You probably didn’t need to hear all that.”

“No, it’s fine,” you say–– and you mean it. “Your life is interesting.”

Osamu leans back in his chair. “Well, I’m sure yours is, too.” He holds your gaze like it’s the key to your presence. It’s an invitation. The kind that comes from people who don’t really know if they want you around but also don’t want you gone.

You take it.

Osamu shouldn’t–– he really shouldn’t–– but he wonders about the things you didn’t tell him the entire drive home.

Isla laughs when you tell her about what happened at Jack’s. You lay in bed with your phone next to you on speaker, your face turned on your pillow so that you’re staring out the window at the city below.

“He wants you,” she sings.

“Or he was just being nice.”

“Methinks not!” Isla giggles. “He’s intrigued, girl! You’re like that cute little new mystery in his life and he just wants to get to know you.”

“I think he was just being polite.”

“Or he’s crushing on you!”

“In your dreams.”

“You mean yours? Boo, you’re no fun today. Usually, you go along with the jokes.” Isla’s tone is playful on the surface but full of implications.

A few silent seconds pass. Yeah, you think, agreeing. I do.

“Girl,” Isla drags out the word in a high pitch, saying it like a scientist says ‘eureka’. “You’re not playing along anymore because it’s real now. You're actually catching feelings!”

“Am not!” you laugh.

“The Y/N I knew would’ve said ‘nah, bitch, he’s catching feelings’ and I think that says all there is to say.”

“Okay, I think he’s cute but it’s not a crush,” you concede, grinning. “And he’s the TA, Isles. It’d never happen.”

“Not while he’s still a TA in a class you take.”

“Isla.”

“Ask him out once this semester ends! Unless you’re chicken.”

“I’m not asking him out.”

“Knew you were––”

“Have you seen me? He’s asking me out.”

Miya Osamu walks through the door at eight-fifty as usual that next morning, dressed in his usual button-up, holding his usual cup of coffee. But this time, as the rest of his tall frame passes through the doorway, Osamu’s eyes subtly scan the faces in the lecture hall, lingering for just a while over yours. The corners of your lips turn up. You hope he saw that.

“Bitch!” Isla whisper-screams. The students sitting around you turn around at the noise and grin at each other when they realise it’s just Isla being… well, Isla. She shoos them away jokingly.

“What?” you whisper back.

“Care to explain why our TA was literally eye-fucking you?”

“That was hardly eye-fucking,” you retort. “Maybe like an eye-handshake.”

“Yeah, a naked eye-handshake where his thang is handshaking your––”

He does it again the next class.

And the next.

And then he doesn’t. Miya Osamu walks through the door to Food Chemistry I at eight-fifty in the morning in a navy blue button-up with a cup of coffee in his hand and looks through the rows of seats in the lecture hall for your face, only to find it missing.

He debates pressing the matter.

To: m.osamu@hqu.edu

hey osamu,

i wasn’t in class today because i’ve been sick with the flu (no big deal, just feel like i’m dying). a classmate sent me pictures of the slides from today so i think i should be fine, but is it okay if i email you with any questions? thank you very much!

miserably,

Y/N

MS Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

From: m.osamu@hqu.edu

y/n,

of course. sorry to hear that you’re sick. let me know if i can do anything to help you. the midterm is next week. get well soon.

OM

PhD Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

“You writing that the midterm is next week did not offer me any peace of mind, by the way,” you say, spinning around in your chair as Miya Osamu enters your pod in the library.

He offers you a wry grin. “Hello to ya, too.”

“Was that an accent?” You thought you’d heard one at Jack’s, but you couldn’t be sure because it’d been so spotty.

Osamu slips into the seat beside yours and pulls out the laptop in his messenger bag. You catch a whiff of his cologne–– something spicy and woody, but clean. It suits him. “Nice catch. Yeah, I speak a regional dialect. Took me a while to smooth it over but it still resurfaces every now and then.”

“Why?”

“It just didn’t seem fitting for a PhD candidate, I guess,” Osamu explains, opening the slides from the class you missed. A day after your initial exchange, you’d emailed him again (with a much clearer mind) and asked if he could go over the slides with you in person.

i literally feel like i’ve been given the homework from russian lit, you’d written. except the russian has been translated to hieroglyphs and my task is to choreograph an interpretive dance based on the hieroglyphs.

Osamu had snickered when he saw your email. that doesn’t even make sense. must be the fever talking, he’d been tempted to write. But that strange feeling had come over him again, the one that’d screamed at him to keep it professional, goddamnit, so he’d played it safe instead and sent is eight pm at the main library okay? He hates that you’re getting a watered-down version of his personality. Osamu swears he’s a lot more interesting when he’s not, well, a TA.

“I think it’s fine,” you say, smiling. “I like it. It’s you.” And suddenly, you’re wondering if it’s okay to be complimenting your TA. If it’s okay to say that you like things about him, or if that crosses some grey, unclear line. Is it weird to treat your TAs like they’re your friends? It’s not like TAs are real teachers. Right?

A grin–– wide and genuine and almost excited–– grows on Osamu’s face. He rubs the back of his neck as his eyes flit over to the laptop screen. “Thanks. Really.”

You nod. But you feel like there’s more that he might want to say, so you wait.

“I got a lot of shit for it when I came here for my master’s, y’know. Not to my face, of course, but people would refer to me as ‘the guy with the accent’. A professor once said it made me seem crass. Said it’d hold me back in my career.”

“So you changed.”

“Adapted,” Osamu corrects. “It’s hard to admit but conforming is sometimes all you can do when you don’t have the power to change the system. Can’t really make everyone suddenly respect a dialect.”

“And after you’re finished with your PhD, you’ll go back to speaking in that dialect?”

Osamu looks out the window and smiles, probably imagining the plans he’s already made about the future. “Yeah.”

“What if you have to speak the standard language at your job? Like, your boss is all, ‘hey man, if you don’t speak––”’

“I’ll be the boss.”

“Oh?”

And with a little more prodding, Miya Osamu tells you about the restaurant chain he plans on opening after graduation, the slides about food additives left completely untouched.

The librarian knocks on your pod a few minutes before eleven to tell you they’re closing.

“Shit,” Osamu murmurs, running his hands through his hair. You’re still laughing about something he’d said before the librarian interrupted him–– one of his stories from high school–– and he thinks that you’ve completely forgotten that the reason you came to the library was to catch up on the material you were already behind on. And now you’re behind on that. But you look so carefree right now and, actually, you’re very pretty and you’ve got such a good heart and it’s a lot for him to process but he knows he just wants to see you happy a while longer. So Osamu just slumps back in his chair and laughs along with you.

He says your name as his chuckles grow softer. “It’s pretty late. How’re you getting home?”

“I’ve a bike,” you reply. It’s good for the environment and is a pretty solid form of exercise if you do say so yourself. Sometimes you just don’t feel like driving. 

Osamu presses his lips in a thin line. Would it be too much to offer you a ride? “I can drive you home. It’s really not safe for you to be alone outside, especially near midnight. You can get your bike tomorrow. Or I’ll get it for you.”

He drives fast. Not the unsafe fast that speed demons drive at, but the kind of fast where you know he’s got some edge to his character. You bring it up to him–– especially since it’s nighttime, for god’s sake, he could hit something–– and all he does is remind you how there are lamps as bright as the sun lining the entire road to your dorm. And the fact that you live in the least accessible dorm on campus.

“A twenty-minute drive?” he’d exclaimed when he saw the GPS monitor.

“A bunch of roads are closed for construction. It’s a ten-minute bike-ride because I can cut through campus.” And suddenly feeling a little burdensome, you’d added, “Sorry. I can still bike––”

“No.” He’d held his hand out in front of you, gesturing for you to stay in the passenger’s seat. “It’s not a bother at all.” Because it wasn’t. Osamu was… happy. Not that he’d admit that.

“So this BMW,” you start in a teasing tone.

Osamu smirks. “A gift.”

“Can I guess from who?”

“Sure.”

“Atsumu.”

His brows rise. “Colour me impressed.” He hadn’t expected you to remember anything he’d said about Atsumu. Or maybe he had but told himself otherwise to lower his hopes.

“I’m smart like that.”

He snorts. “Not if you keep distracting me and using your review time to…” hang out with me, get to know me, tell me things about you… “…goof off.”

You grimace. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”

Osamu makes a turn down a familiar street. It dawns upon you that you're ten minutes away from your dorm and suddenly you wish he’d just make the wrong turn at the next intersection so that you could talk to him some more. It can even be about the health benefits of fish or the molecular makeup of kale–– you don’t mind. You just want to be around him longer.

“I think you’re really smart,” Osamu says quietly. “I think you’re not processing the readings because you’re distracted, or just not fully applying yourself. Obviously, last class’s slides are a different thing, since you were absent. But you really are smart. I’ve seen your papers.”

You bite your lip to hide your grin, feeling heat rush to your cheeks. “Thank you.” You look out the window, too jacked on dopamine to think straight. “I think I still need you, though.”

And that innocuous little sentence floats right out your mouth into the air, settling between you like a little wedge before either of you even realise it. Neither of you says anything. You marinate in the awkwardness before stuttering out a clarification. “To, um, to explain things. Y’know, since you’re, uh, so good at… explaining things.”

Osamu clears his throat and chuckles stiffly. There’s a slightly pink tinge to his cheeks. “Thanks,” he says, looking straight ahead. He can’t even look at you. Fuck. It’s so awkward. “I’ll try to keep… explaining things.” Fuck. What does that even mean?

A few uncomfortable minutes pass in silence. The night can’t end like this, you think. It can’t when everything else had gone so well. You still have to see him for a few more months. “Did you know,” you start, catching Osamu’s attention, “that Jack’s Diner has a location in Italy?”

“Oh?” he asks, making the final turn to the street where your dorm is. He actually hadn’t.

“Yeah. I asked the owner about the chain a while back. Have you ever been to Italy?”

Osamu shakes his head. “I’ve been to Paris, though. To see a friend. He’s a chocolatier.”

Now, if Osamu had been your friend, you would’ve said something like well, let’s go to Italy together, except he’s not. He’s your TA and you’ve been reminded that enough tonight. So instead, you say, “When you open that restaurant of yours in Italy, let me know.”

“That’s gonna take a while,” he laughs. He appreciates how you said ‘when’, though. And he tucks that little bit of confidence you have in him somewhere deep in his mind so that it doesn’t get lost.

“Isn’t that just seven hours?” you shrug, grinning. Osamu’s BMW pulls up outside your dorm and parks as he marvels at what you just said. You’re amazing. You unbuckle your seatbelt and turn to face your driver.

“Thank you for driving me,” you say, offering him a smile.

“Yeah,” he replies.

You stretch out your hand. With a puzzled look on his face, Osamu grabs it and shakes it. Firmly. You can’t help but notice how nice his hands are. Calloused for sure, but they feel nice.

“Goodnight, Osamu.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

He watches you jog into the building before driving away. And it’s like you’ve possessed his car or something because the smell of your shampoo and perfume is everywhere and it’s too much but it’s also not enough at the same time and he can feel your palm against his as he spins the steering wheel to make a turn and for the first time in his life he doesn’t turn on the radio to fill the silence in his car. Osamu replays everything you said in his head.

But he especially thinks about that part where you said you need him.

Weeks melt into months. You turn in essays after essays for Food Chemistry I, each coming back with detailed commentary in an all-too-familiar blue scrawl. All your other classes go well–– extremely well, actually. You might just end the semester with a 4.0 if Food Chem doesn’t fuck you over. Isla still tags you in memes on Instagram. You still tell her about everything that happens with Osamu.

Speaking of.

“That’s the wrong equation,” he says behind your ear as he settles in the seat beside you. The sound of his low voice so close to your ear sends a small shiver down your spine. “You gotta switch the hydrogens.” Osamu knocks on your skull lightly. “What’s goin’ on up in there? Ya got somethin’ on your mind?”

You laugh and elbow him in the side. “Shut up, ‘Samu.” He’d told you during one of his office hours that he’d gone by that nickname because he had a teammate with a foreign name in high school. It sounded so cool, he’d said, grinning.

I think Osamu sounds pretty cool already, you’d teased.

And he’d replied, Let’s trade. I like yours, you like mine, why not share?

You teeter on the line between friends and less-than-friends and, oddly enough, more-than-friends. Sometimes you still play it safe. Sometimes he pauses between texts and real-time conversations, no doubt to scrap an instinctive reply for something more “professional”. Sometimes you say things that make him look at you with the ghost of a smile at the corners of his lips. Sometimes he calls Atsumu to scream about you.

“S’not a no,” Osamu points out. He’s dressed in a black sweater and grey trousers today. You’re suddenly reminded of how the weather’s been getting colder when someone opens the door to the university café and lets in a gust of chilly autumn air.

“Okay,” you admit, setting down the pencil. “I just… don’t really feel prepared for this next test.”

Osamu frowns and looks down at your worksheet. “Your process is correct, though.”

“Right, but… I don’t know. I’ve just not been feeling great about myself lately,” you laugh, looking down at your feet. “Food Chem’s the toughest class I’ve ever taken. And remember how I completely embarrassed myself in that class discussion last week? It’s not really making me feel like I belong here.”

“Imposter syndrome,” Osamu remarks.

“Correct-o.”

He says your name softly and puts a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Maybe you’re not the smartest, but you’re definitely smart. And you belong here. I’ve seen your papers. They’re just as great as anyone else’s and I don’t hand out compliments for nothin’. You’re gonna do some great things but ya can’t improve if you ever give up.” Osamu searches your eyes for a sign of your understanding.

There’re a lot of things you want to say but you don’t know how to put them into words. “Can I hug you?” you finally ask.

Osamu doesn’t even think about it. “Of course.”

He feels you smile against his chest and wonders if you can feel his heart beat faster.

Isla camps out in your dorm as finals come around the corner.

“I don’t understand shit!” she wails, throwing her notebook into the air.

“Isles, it’s okay,” you laugh, slipping out of your chair and walking over to her nest in the corner. “You gotta chill, dude.”

“Not fair! I didn’t have a hunk holding my hand through this course all semester,” she retorts, humour glittering in her dark eyes. “I had the Organic Chemistry Tutor and his accent’s cute enough but, girl, you had Miya Fucking Osamu!”

“You’re literally the worst.” You giggle and sit down beside her. “Tell me what you’re confused about. I’ll try to explain it to you.” The way Osamu does.

You text him that you’d channelled his brains later that night.

His reply comes seconds later. all you, einstein.

From: osamu

good luck on the exam

you’re going to kill it

To: osamu

would u like to divulge any… information about it? 😏 😏 😏

From: osamu

bye

To: osamu

i was kidding :(

From: osamu

fine. tip #1: write your name

To: osamu

not very helpful. 0/10

From: osamu

keep running your mouth and 0/10 is what your score���s going to be

i’m kidding

you got this, y/n

“Holy fuck,” Isla groans as you cross the street to head to lunch at Jack’s. “If you don’t see me next semester it’s because I’ve gotten my grade back and decided to drop out.”

“What would you do?” you ask, amused.

“Maybe move to New Zealand. Raise some sheep. Marry a hot, blond shepherd and fuck off to a cliffside cottage.”

“Solid plan.”

“What about you?” she asks.

“What about me?”

“Remember that conversation we had at the start of the year? About your man?” The two of you reach another red light for pedestrians.

“We’re friends. He’s not my man,” you laugh. Though it pains you to. Something about being Miya Osamu’s friend doesn’t really sit right with you, but you don’t know how to not be his friend. You don’t know how to move out of the corner you’ve backed yourself into.

“But you wish he were! And now you can finally hit him with that ‘Hey, Osamu, I’ve been madly in love with you since the start of the semester, wanna fuck like rabbits and then open that store in Italy?’ and he’ll be all––”

A throat clears behind you. With wide eyes, the two of you turn around.

Holy fuck.

Miya Osamu stands behind you with his hands in his pockets and an enormous smirk on his face.

“He’ll be all what?” he asks, eyes fixed on you.

Isla murmurs an excuse and starts walking on her own to Jack’s.

“Um.” You swallow nervously and shrink in your coat. “You heard all of that, right?”

“Yep.” Osamu grins. He grins. He’s grinning. He’s smiling like he’s won the fucking lottery and you honestly don’t know what to do with that information.

“So, like,” you look down at the sidewalk and kick at a pebble, “what are your thoughts about that?” God, you could die. “‘Cause I know you’re a TA and it’d probably look pretty bad and I don’t want anything bad to happen to you because I like you and it’s cool if we just…”

Osamu interrupts you with a laugh. “My thoughts,” he says, “are that I want to kiss you.” His fingers lift your chin up. “What are your thoughts about that?”

Well, shit. “I think that’s pretty cool, yeah,” you breathe, eyelids fluttering shut as his face comes closer to yours.

He tastes like mint. And his lips move softly, slowly against yours like he’s savouring the moment. And then you feel his hands snake around your waist to pull you closer–– closer because you both are tired of forcing the distance between bodies that want to be near each other, closer because he’s thought about kissing you just like this for so long, closer because you remember the last time he’d touched you was three days ago and it was just a brush of his fingers against your arm and that feeling of wanting more haunted you for the entire night. But holy shit, Miya Osamu is kissing you. He’s kissing you.

And then he pulls away. His dark eyes flit over yours. “I,” he breathes, “I need your course load next semester.”

“What?” you ask, disbelief written all over your features, chest rising and falling as you try to steady your breathing. You just kissed, for God's sake, and he's––

“I need to know which courses not to apply to TA for,” he grins, cupping your face in his hands. “Can’t be teachin’ in a class with my girlfriend as a student.”

“So we’re official?” you ask, beaming.

“If you want,” Osamu replies with a smirk.

You grab the front of his coat and tug him down for another kiss. “Hell yeah, I want to be official.”

[yamalegacy]

prompt eleven with mirko 😳

i've already done 11 with midnight but idc, i love buff bunny too much not to do it! and well, considering how it aligns with the godly possessive!rumi hcs, it's way too tempting anyway! so here goes!

prompt: #11 from this list  “I bet you think you’re real cute letting them put their hands all over you. We’ll see how cute you look later when I get you home.”

pairing: mirko (usagiyama rumi) x gn!reader

cw: SMUT. afab reader. rumi is a possessive bunny. brat!reader. dom/sub dynamic. hair pulling, spanking, dirty talking, slight degradation & praise kink (yes, both at the same time, don’t underestimate rumi), fingering, strapon, slight anal fingering. oh boy this really is the filthiest thing i’ve written in a loooong time.

word count: about 3,7k words WOPS I GOT CARRIED AWAY

⚠️ MDNI reminder for minors to not interact with this post ⚠️

   Your phone buzzes exactly seven minutes after you started a conversation with Keigo— he insists you call him Keigo, because Hawks is too professional and Takami is too formal, his own words. Seven whole minutes (yes, you’ve been keeping an eye on the time during the whole conversation). It’s over six minutes later than you’d expected, really. It buzzes again almost immediately, and you make a point to ignore your phone for a bit as you glance at Rumi, on the other side of the bar, over the rim of your glass.

When she arcs an eyebrow at you, visibly losing her patience, you give all your attention to Keigo again and offer him a smile before pulling your phone out of the back pocket of your jeans to check the messages you’ve no doubt received from the Rabbit Hero.

fluffy butt 🐇🤍

i bet you think you’re real cute letting him put his hands all over you we’ll see how cute you look later when i get you home

It’s almost disappointing how predictable she is with these things. Almost. Rumi is way too hot when she gets jealous for it to actually be disappointing. You want to remind her that she is the one who invited you to that bar and who left you alone to get drinks, that she is the one who got distracted by a conversation with Ryukyu, but you decide to leave her on read and see what happens.

From where you stand, you can see Rumi’s internal struggle not to just abruptly cut Ryukyu in the middle of what she is saying so that she can get right between you and Keigo. It’s quite the amusing sight, from her flattened ears to her thumping foot, her attitude reeks of frustration. You can’t help but wonder what will tick her off so much that she will intervene — Keigo has only touched you shoulder and given your arm a light squeeze and Rumi is already seething, so it seems likely just about anything would set her off.

“I can hear her thump from here,” Keigo comments, a lazy smile adorning his lips. “I’m surprised she hasn’t tried to murder me yet.”

You chuckle at his words.

“I think she’s trying to see whether or not looks can kill.”

He leans closer to you (and you know it’s much too closer to Rumi’s standards because you can smell the minty alcohol on his breath), “I sure hope looks can kill. It’d be a lot less painful than her foot up my— well, wherever she fancies shoving it, I guess.”

You don’t even have time to give him a reaction that you can hear heavy footsteps approaching, so you lean away from Keigo just enough to properly look at your girlfriend as she marches over to you. It’s only now that she is right here that you notice she’s opened her leather jacket, revealing one of her favorite crop tops — black, sinfully tight and exposing just the right amount of cleavage and abs to make your mouth water. 

God, her skin always looks so tempting, you want to reach out, to put a hand on her waist, under her jacket, but she grabs you by the wrist before you can even try to move a muscle. Her eyes are fixed on you, and, to your surprise, she doesn’t even acknowledge Keigo.

“We’re leaving,” she says, her tone stern.

“Rumi... it’d be rude to leave so early,” you tell her, smiling at her with all the innocence you can muster (enough to fool anyone who doesn’t know you well), “and you are the one who wanted us to come here in the first pl—”

“We’re leaving. I remembered I have something to do.”

You want to push, to tease, to see how far she’ll go, so even if her tone leaves no room for argument, you open your mouth again.

“But you—”

“Now.”

She tugs are your arm and you follow as she takes a first few steps away from Keigo, only to turn around and face him.

“I hope you choke on your fucking feathers, birdy.”

“Always nice to talk to you, Usagiyama,” he simply smirks and gives her a small wave of his hand, “and I hope something,” he glances at you, “will enjoy getting done.”

Rumi doesn't give you any time to say goodbye to him, or to any of her hero friends, and she drags you out of the bar, heading straight for her car. She doesn't even let you register how forceful she is being that you've already been shoved in the passenger seat.

The ride home is short (too short; Rumi drives way too fast for a Pro Hero who is supposed to set an example for those around her) and awfully quiet. She didn't even look at you, didn't glance your way at least once like she usually does. Rumi's ears are still flattened in annoyance when she opens the door of her house to push you inside.

She kicks off her sneakers and takes off her leather jacket to leave it on the back of chair, then heads to the couch, sitting down nonchalantly, arms crossed under her chest in a way that pushes up her tits. All you can do is stare, unable to form a coherent thought as you settle down next to her.

“You had fun flirting with Big Bird, baby?” she asks, and the question would be innocent enough if you didn't know your girlfriend better.

You move so that you're facing Rumi on the couch, your knee bumping into a strong thigh — and maybe, for a moment, you get briefly distracted by the thought of these rippling muscles on either side of your head.

“Come on, Rumi, you know there was no actual flirting. We were just having fun.”

She leans closer to you, invading your personal space, face so close to yours that all you can see in the harsh coldness in her eyes. You barely have time to blink that one of her hands is at the back of your head, her grip on your hair surprisingly gentle.

“Oh, because you think I don’t know what little game you were playing with him there?” she is nearly snarling at you, and this time, her grip on your hair tightens, deliciously painful, and she tugs. “Why do you think I waited so long to grab you, uh?”

So, she knew? The whole time you spent talking with Keigo, flirting with him and allowing him to flirt to get a reaction from her, she knew? And it still didn't stop her from getting jealous and acting possessive in the middle of a bar, surrounded by numerous other Pro Heroes.

Her grip on your hair tightens once more and she brings you closer to her body.

"I just wanted to see how far you'd take your little game," she explains, words nearly spat through her gritted teeth. "But I couldn't take it anymore. You're mine, understood?" she asks, but the way she pulls at your hair clearly tells you that she expects no reply.

"I thought we agreed that I was my own person?" you smirk, even as she yet again tugs at your hair. "We said we don't own each other even if we're dating, didn't we?"

It is true, it's something you've talked about pretty early in your relationship together, after Rumi admitted that she could get jealous easily, but hated that she got jealous. It led to conversation about acting possessive during sex and marking, and you know that's what Rumi is going on about right now, and not some sort of ownership that she'd have over you because she is your girlfriend. But you can't help it, can't help wanting to push all her buttons and see what kind of punishment it earns you.

"You're playing smartass with me now, uh?"

She tugs at your hair again, forcing your head back slightly, but you hold eye contact, refusing to let her get the submission that she wants from you just now. You've already earned yourself a punishment, might as well make the most of it, right?

"I would never."

You smile innocently and bat your eyelashes at her, even if the pain tickling your scalp is starting to blur your sight.

She lets go of your hair without saying anything, and for just a second, you think she might be too annoyed with your act and drop the issue entirely to move on and do whatever she feels like doing for the rest of the night. But she wraps her strong fingers around your wrist and pulls, her free hand pressing harshly between your shoulder blades to push you down onto her lap, face into the couch cushion and ass up, perched over her thighs.

Well, shit.

The first spank comes unexpectedly fast and hard, you have no time to brace yourself for the impact, and your jeans do little to absorb the shock and the pain spreading through your cheek.

“Shit!” you groan through gritted teeth, trying your best not to get too loud, which is most likely exactly what Rumi wants right now.

“Got something to say, baby?” Rumi asks, and you can hear the smirk in her voice.

“Nope. All good,” you mumble.

A second slap comes, matching the first one in speed and strength, leaving your ass numb from the pain. If there’s one thing you can never expect from your girlfriend, it’s for her to go easy on you.

“All good, you said?”

“Yup,” you whimper pathetically, your voice having none of the bite you wish for. Two spanks, and Rumi already has you trembling over her lap, it’s ridiculous, but you should have seen it coming, really.

She spanks you again, twice, and takes the time to brush the palm of her hand over your sore cheeks, the gesture almost soothing. She repeats the movements again, and again, before stopping to give your ass a squeeze. With each spank, you pant, forcing yourself to swallow the moans that threaten to fall past your lips.

“You’re taking your punishment really well today, baby. Trying to be good for me?” she teases, her hand now comfortably lodged between your thighs, too close to your aching core and yet not nearly close enough.

“Or maybe you’re not hitting as hard as you think you are.”

You aren't sure why you said that, aren't sure what you're doing right now, all you know is that it's dangerous because you're just provoking Rumi — it's always a recipe for disaster in the end.

She doesn't spank you though, but she snakes a hand between her lap and your stomach, pressing her fingers into your skin and pushing up until you put your weight on your knees and lift yourself up enough for her to get access to the button of your pants. Rumi hooks her fingers at the hem of your jeans and tugs, dragging them down your thighs along with your underwear.

She doesn't give you time to adapt to the cool air against your exposed bottom, doesn't let you collect your thoughts or even take a breath, before she is spanking you again. She marks no pause between each strike, just spanks and spanks and spanks. Lost in the rapid fire of her assault on your sensitive ass, you can't stop yourself from moaning — and that's when she pauses.

“Did my baby just moan?”

You stubbornly refuse to respond, clenching your jaw. You know a spank is coming, but you still aren’t ready for the pain.

“It’s okay to admit that you’re just a slut, desperate for me to touch you,” she coos, her calloused fingers gently brushing the raw skin of your ass. “Even if I’m just spanking you, you want me to touch you, don’t you? Because you’re a needy little whore for me, uh?”

Her words cause a shiver to run down your spine, straight to your core, but you press your thighs together and bit your tongue. You’re well aware what she wants you to do, what she wants you to say, but you don’t want to give it to her today. You’ve decided to play, and you won’t back down just because she’s spanking your ass raw. At your stubborn silence, she all but growls in your ear, her annoyance obvious as she slaps your burning cheek once more.

“How long do you think you can resist, baby?” she asks as her fingers trace little patterns on your back, your shirt riding up as her hand slowly moves higher. “How long til you act like the good little slut you are for me?”

You muffle your whine in the cushion, which is starting to feel uncomfortably wet from your tears and drool under your cheek. You hate it, but you can’t give in now. Rumi would be too pleased.

“Just say you’re mine, baby, say you’re my perfect good little slut,” she says, her fingers trailing down your back to settle between your thighs, an inch from where you need her most, “just say it and I promise I’ll fuck your pretty cunt so good you won’t be able to walk.”

She runs a finger along your drenched fold, and you hear her hum in delight. You hate how wet she’s making you; you can’t deny that this is all for her, that it’s the effect she has one you. Met with only silence once again, Rumi harshly pinches your clit between her thumb and index finger.

“Aaah! Rumi—” you gasp, whole body quivering.

“Say it. Say you’re my slut. Beg me to fuck you.”

“Please,” you whimper weakly.

“Uh? What did you say? Didn’t hear you, baby. Stop hiding in the couch and gimme a proper sentence.”

You nearly sob as she tightens her grip on your clit before releasing it.

“I’m your slut! All yours!” you feel your whole face burning at your own word, at the desperation in your voice. “I need you to fuck me! Please... Mirko... please fuck me.”

She chuckles, all too amused to your liking.

“See? Ain’t so hard to be good, is it?”

Before you can register what’s happening, Rumi has hoisted you in her arms and thrown you over her shoulder and is making her way to your bedroom. Your pants still down the middle of your thighs and ass bared, it’s the most embarrassing ever but you can’t even find words to express it; you can feel your arousal dripping down your thighs, sticky and embarrassing.

She tosses onto the bed as soon as she is close enough to it.

“Be good and strip for me, baby. Take everything off.”

You hurry to obey, pushing your pants further down and kicking them off your feet before you start working on taking off your shirt. Rumi’s disappeared into the bathroom, so you sit patiently to wait for her, back leaning against the headboard.

When she comes back, Rumi is dressed, and you take the time to admire her beauty. The size of her strong arms obvious through the thin material of her long-sleeved crop top, the delicious expanse of tan skin of her stomach, her tight abs, the curve of her hips— you notice it only now, the thick bulge hidden under her jeans. You look up at her face, surprise written all over your features, and the smile she gives you is playful, she even wiggles her eyebrows at you.

Rumi unbuttons and unzips her pants, freeing the thickness of her strapon from them before climbing on the bed. She sits, legs spread, and beckons you closer with the simple movement of a finger.

“Suck it,” she demands, “get my cock nice and ready to fuck your cunt.”

You crawl over to her and wrap a hand around the hard silicone as soon as it’s within reach, your lips closing around its head. You circle it with your tongue, lick it, and look up at Rumi’s face, the dildo snug in your mouth. She can’t feel it, but she always enjoys when you put on a show for her.

Long gone is your little rebellious act from earlier. All you want is for Rumi to take you here and now, to have her fuck you until you pass out.

As you take more of the silicone cock into your mouth, she puts a hand on your head, and soon enough, you can feel her tight grip in your hair. You’re almost halfway when she tugs and pulls you away from her cock.

“Ass up. Face down. Now.”

You do as she orders, resisting the temptation to look up when you feel the bed dip next to you. You hear her open the drawer of the nightstand, then the sound of the lube bottle being opened. From the loud clang that follows, you know she’s thrown the bottle back in the drawer rather than bother putting it down.

Her fingers are cold when they press against your entrance, slick with thick lube that she spreads over your folds, over your clit, before pushing two fingers inside you. You grip at the sheets, low moan leaving your lips.

“Look at you, being all good for me now,” she comments, her tone teasing. “Taking my fingers so well.” This time, her voice comes from much closer, and you feel her chest pressing against your back. She kisses your neck and shoulders as she starts moving her fingers, slow and deliberate. “You want my cock, baby?”

You whimper at a particularly harsh thrust of her fingers and tighten your grip on the sheet to try and keep yourself anchored, balanced.

“Yes, please! I want your cock in me!”

She pulls out her fingers, and your cunt clenches around the emptiness. You can’t help but moan miserably. She coos above you, amused by your desperation, of course.

She pushes the thick head of the strapon against your hole, but instead of pushing further into you, she guides it up and down your folds, several time, painfully slow, spreading the slickness of your arousal mixed with the lube. You whine and push your hips back, seeking what she is refusing you. A big mistake, and you know it even before both her hands hit your ass, still raw from the spanking she gave you.

“Don’t try that again, baby,” she warns, squeezing the flesh of your in her hands as she presses the dildo against your entrance again. “You gonna be good for me now?”

“I promise I’ll be good! So, please, please fuck me!”

She pushes into you slowly, just the head, then pulls out and repeats the movement, carefully stretching you. She eases more of the strapon inside you with each move, and while you are grateful for how careful she is being, you wish she would just fuck you into the mattress already.

Finally, you feel her hips against your ass, and she pauses for a moment as her hands rest on your waist.

“You ready, baby?”

“I am.”

The pace she sets is fast, the movements of her hips quick, precise and harsh, almost unforgiving. The material of her pants feels rough against the sensitive skin of your ass, and you suspect Rumi of having kept her pants on merely to torture you that way.

Within seconds, Rumi has you panting and moaning.

“So good for me, taking my cock so well.”

She slows her quick pace to focus on deeper, more forceful thrusts. You can’t even form a coherent sentence, or even words, to respond. And when one of her hands leaves your waist, you clench your teeth and brace yourself for an impact that doesn’t come. Instead of spanking you, she is gentle as she places her hand on your ass. She doesn’t leave you time to consider asking her what she is doing that her thumb is pushing against your hole, and she keeps it set firmly in your ass as she quickens the pace again, fucking into your cunt ruthlessly, her hips slapping your ass with each thrust.

“Fuck! Mirko! Please!”

You’re babbling, unsure if the sounds that come out of your mouth are even the ones in your mind, but you can’t bring yourself to care when all you can feel is your girlfriend fucking you like your lives depends on it. And with each thrust bringing you closer to the edge, you moan, you mewl, you pant, you aren’t sure which, the lewd, wet noises of your pussy overwhelming your senses.

“Look at you, baby,” she croons, “being such a good slut for me, making such pretty noises just for me. So pretty and perfect. And all mine.”

“I’m so close! Please! I wanna come!”

She stills her hips, “then do,” she simply says, punctuating the short sentence with a strong thrust before resuming her quick pace.

It only takes a few more thrusts of her cock and her thumb pushing a little further into your ass for your muscles to clench desperately around her strap as waves of pleasure crash through your body, your limbs quivering from the unadulterated bliss clouding your mind. 

She is gentle as she pulls out, kisses your back as she eases you down onto the mattress and lies down next to you.

You turn your head to look at her, and she is grinning at you as you lay limply on the bed. She caresses your cheek, soft and loving, and shifts closer to kiss you on the nose.

“You did so good, babe,” she whispers, her smile only broadening, “I’m so proud of you.”

Feeling the exhaustion invade your body, you close your eye and focus on enjoying her gentle touch as she runs her fingers along your back and shoulders.

“Let’s get you in the shower in a few minutes, yeah? I’ll have to take care of your ass. I really got carried, sorry ‘bout that.”

You chuckle sleepily at her apology.

“Don’t be sorry, you know I liked it.”

“I do know. I mean, you fucking dripped on my pants, there’s still a spot on my thigh.”

You groan in embarrassment, and you would cover your face with your hands if your muscles weren’t still twitching from your orgasm.

“Just carry my lifeless body to the bathroom.”

“Gimme a break, I’m tired too. I fucking wrecked my hands spanking you so hard, ya know?”

“You really want to compare the state of your hands to my ass?” you mutter, frowning, eyes barely opening.

It’s her turn to chuckle.

“Yeah, okay, no. Just, lemme take a breathe and I’ll take care of my baby.”

[jikookpancakes]

JIKOOK FIC RECS that no one asked for (2021)

but im giving anyway because THE TALENT IN THIS FANDOM IS INSANE

long post incoming!! this is probably just part 1 because i wont stop reading anytime soon so i’m inserting that link just in case i do make another one in the future

What’s a Soul Really Worth, Anyway? by thisneedsmorefilth - 130k words, fantasy, demon!jm, witch!jk, listen, this and the next one are my top 2 jikook fics of all time, so well-written, plot so exciting legit reads like a book, better than a lot of books tbh, the world-building is INSANE, jungkook and the gang accidentally summon demon!jimin and chaos ensue, especially for jungkook...and you know why!!!, so funny, angsty, cried so much, happy ending but listen to me: you gotta read the sequel too, YOU GOTTA.

Militat Omnis Amans: The Beginnings by edaen - 92k words, fantasy, werewolf!jk, vampire!jm, forbidden love, super slow burn but super worth it, JIKOOK IN THIS IS MY FAVORITE JIKOOK IN ANY FIC EVER EVER EVER, this is the ultimate all or nothing will freeze hell over for the other kind of love, and the way this is written is just so... how do i describe it. like you can just tell the author wanted to be very realistic with their feelings. you’ve seen the word count, this is SLOW burn. like you will legit feel their struggle to just be able to love each other and while it hurts, it’s also SO GLORIOUS. i love this one so much and if you like reading angst with happy ending but like cranked up to 200% then read this. bonus feels if you read the whole series

Until Dawn (series) by edaen - this is the long series where the previous one above is part of. highly rec if you love fantasy and you wanna read about bts being a rag tag group of supernatural beings fighting evil yay. also it makes the above fic more satisfying because you see more of jikook just being tgt and in love (with bonus angst because of course)

7 Signs by NamHyora - 27k words, secret spies au, abo, alpha!jk, omega!jm who is always used as a raven in their operations aka they use jimin and his attractive self to attract people and gather information or acquire targets and all that spy stuff, and his bestie alpha jk is not too happy about it hehe, friends to lovers, iove this one so much i wish it was longer but i think the author is planning to write a sequel!

Drop Like Confetti by annie_vi - 110k words, ceo!jk, age difference, age swap, ahhh i love this fic so much cause jimin smart and mature and has this no bs attitude, and he can keep up with jk despite the age gap and the difference in status/experiences, jk sexy dilf in this one eheh, i love it cause the drama/angst tackles a very real concern for such couples, like there’s no angst just for the sake of having angst, it really makes sense where they’re both coming from, they’re so whipped for eo too so love that for me

Fold it Up Like Origami by annie_vi - 99k words, gamer!jk, model!jm, same author as above and jk is so boyfriend goals in this one and in all this author’s fics in general like wow my standards are so high now i will legit be single forever just reading jikook fics (with no regrets), secret relationship due to their celeb status, well-written as usual, dialogues/banter in this author’s fics are just YES

The Tournament by kinkmins - 34k words, prince!jm, bodyguard!jk, abo, i’ll paste part of the summary here “Prince Jimin gets ready to hold a tournament where 50 alphas compete for a chance to court him, his father the king hires a new bodyguard who is a little too blunt and a little too talkative.“, i really love this oneeeee

Screwed Up and Brilliant by annie_vi - 113k words, escort!jk, jimin needed a date for a work event and in comes jungkook, escort extraordinaire with a no sex rule and jimin is just dasdkjfhasl, a lot of that “is this real or is he just acting” kinda angst, fluff smut angst

Like Everything Glows by annie_vi - 180k words, merman!jm, aquatic vet!jk, ok this is like my 4th rec from this author just read all their fics you’re welcome, this is their first fantasy fic but soso good, i rec’d this to someone who doesn’t really read fics and she really loved it and said “their love is so pure hhh”, she’s right

Track one: I love you by honeydice - 30k words, they’re “just” best friends, lots of pining it hurts, there’s some yoonmin and mentioned past jinmin in this so just noting in case, angst, denial of feelings, siiiiigh

InYou by edaen - 4k words, pwp :), abo, the morning after jikook mating, more sexytimes ensue + fluff

Falling For You Again by Rose_gold715 - 30k words, amnesia au, jk forgets about jimin and idk just something about this hits right in the feels. btw i don’t support the jk hated jm before in real life agenda so i don’t like this fic for that reason but i like this fic because i love me some good painful angst with happy ending.

The President’s Son by AmeliaBedelia - 55k words, bodyguard!jk, president’s son!jm, jk is assigned to shadow jm bc his life is under threat, and things develop :), jm is jk’s gay awakening :) :)

A Touch of Sin by pettey - 102k words, fantasy au, police officer!jk, supernatural!jm, shamanism, LOOK AT THE RANGE OF JIKOOK WRITERS YALL, this is such an interesting concept, so different from every other fic i’ve read, really well-written, sometimes you come across fics and you cant help but go “someone out there rly blessing me with this art for free”

Tears to the Tide by haromame - 65k words, abo, alpha!jk, omega!jm, honestly there’s not a lot of abo elements it’s focused more on jungkook having ptsd as he just came from war, established relationship jikook, he comes back home to jimin and things have just... changed. except their love ok THEY LOVE EO SO MUCH this made me cry so f much ugh so good tho.

Zero Hour by edaen - 5k words, canon compliant, a little drabble based around rosebowl jikook, it’s part of a series/collection of canon compliant jikook so if you’re looking for more canon compliant here you go!!, also if you can’t tell already i tend to like several things from a single author, i haven’t read their other fics im legit saving for sad days but i am confident enough to say their other fics are also rec-worthy.

Wonder by wordcouture - 7k words, im sorry in advance, mcd :( pls take care of yourself, i don’t like sad endings ok i don’t, but this is so popular and i was like, ok let’s see what the hype is all about, i get it now, :((((((((((((((((((((, well-written tho, bc the author will manage to crush your heart in just 7k words ha ha

The Omega Revolution by PinkBTS  - 158k words, abo, alpha!jk omega!jm, dystopian au, the hunger games more specifically mockingjay vibes, angst with happy ending but there’s some...things... lost along the way and i think that’s realistic for a dystopian war au, well-written

Blind Switch - 226k words, jockey!jk, rich spoiled brat!jm, jm gets exiled to his grandparents ranch where he meets jk yeehaw, im sorry for the yeehaw, anyway fluff smut angst enemies friends to lovers hurt/comfort slow burn happy ending, all the good stuff, ugh jk so boyfriend goals, also the amount of fluff in the later chapters thank u writer

Finally by Rose_gold715 - 12k words, abo, alpha!jk, omega!jm, angst with happy ending, jikook mate out of convenience and jimin runs away from jk and his pack feeling unloved and outcasted, but jungkook goes after him :((

Park Jimin’s Guide to Good Housekeeping by Ashlyn17 - 235k words, fantasy au, when i say jikook has the best fic writers i mean jikook has the best fic writers because THE WORLD-BUILDING in this one?, THE PLOT TWIST?, yesyesyes, jungkook is a powerful fae and jimin is assigned to be his housekeeper hehe, listen my entire fic rec has several that could be great netflix shows and this is definitely one of them

A Spell That Reminds Me of Your Name by Chimneycricket - 42k words, wizards!au, enemies to friends to lovers and the development felt natural, well-written plus the author sometimes makes art of their fics and other jikook fics and posts on twitter, both their fics and art are so good, i’ve heard good stuff about their other fics too :)

that’s it for now!

just a quick one about my preferences: idc about tops/bottoms, i read just about anything but i prefer fantasy and multi-chaptered fics, i love established relationship jikook so hmu with recs anytime, i don’t like reading anything with cheating and mcd, i love fics where jk and jm are just so friggin in love they are just IT for eo, and at the end of the day even if there are elements to the fics i wouldn’t normally read, as long as they’re well-written then i’m all for it