Novels by Sweet Magaret

The rumor didn’t explode overnight. It started small, like a spark in dry grass — quiet, almost innocent, the kind of thing you could convince yourself you imagined.Tuesday morning, it was just a few whispers near Ethan’s locker. A couple of sophomores glanced his way, muttered something about “trailer trash,” and laughed it off like it was nothing. Ethan caught the tail end of the words as he spun his combination lock. His fingers froze for half a second. He told himself he misheard. People said stupid shit all the time. It didn’t mean anything.By third period, the whispers had grown legs.In English class, someone behind him said it louder, clear enough that half the row could hear. “I heard Ethan’s the guy who sucks dick for cash behind the bleachers after practice.” A few kids snickered. Someone else whispered, “Explains why he’s always so quiet on the court.” The laughter was low but sharp, the kind that crawled under your skin and stayed there.Ethan’s face burned hot. He kept

The diner booth slowly filled with relaxed energy as everyone ate. Full stomachs and sweet milkshakes had the team loosening up fast. Laughter rolled across the table, the earlier practice tension melting away with every bite of greasy, comforting food. The guys were happy, trading jokes and reliving past events.Jamal told a ridiculous story about his missed shot in the first quarter, exaggerating how the ball had bounced off three rims before going in. Tyler jumped in with his own version of the fast break, adding dramatic sound effects that had the whole table cracking up. Fries got stolen from baskets, milkshakes passed around for tastes, the mood shifting from awkward forced outing to something closer to normal team bonding.Everyone relaxed.Except Ethan and Marcus.They sat side by side like statues, bodies angled away from each other as much as the cramped booth allowed. Shoulders stiff, arms carefully kept to themselves, knees not touching under the table. The closeness fe

The weekend had been rough. Saturday morning after the party, Ethan woke up with a pounding hangover that made the world feel too bright and too loud. His head throbbed, his stomach churned from the alcohol he wasn’t used to, and every small movement sent waves of nausea through him. He spent most of the day in bed, curtains drawn, sipping water and avoiding his mom’s questions about why he looked so pale. The memory of the impulsive kiss and Marcus’s cold “fuck off and never talk to me again” replayed every time he closed his eyes. By Sunday he felt slightly better, but the argument between him and Marcus still sat heavy in his chest.Monday rolled around, and practice felt like a fresh start for everyone else. The team was buzzing with leftover energy from the big win. Coach blew the whistle sharp and clear, running them through drills with his usual intensity. But the tension between Ethan and Marcus was impossible to miss—at least to anyone paying attentionThey avoided each oth

Across the clearing, Marcus stood near one of the bigger logs, green eyes catching the firelight as he talked with Lila. She was laughing at whatever he was saying, her hand brushing his arm again in that casual, easy way. Marcus looked relaxed, distracted by the conversation, nodding along with that familiar smile. The sight should have hurt more, but the alcohol wrapped the jealousy in cotton, turning it into a dull ache instead of a knife. Ethan took another long sip from his cup, the burn sliding down his throat and spreading heat through his chest. *Fuck it,* he thought hazily. *If Marcus can be busy with his ex, I can… do whatever.*The crowd surged around him, bodies pressing close in the dance circle someone had started. A random girl—someone he didn’t know, maybe from another school or just a face he’d seen once—stumbled into his space. She was pretty in a wild, firelit way: dark hair loose and messy, eyes bright with the same buzz Ethan felt, a crooked smile on her face as

The party had tipped fully into chaos, the kind that felt electric and unpredictable all at once. Music blasted louder now, the bass hitting so hard it vibrated through the ground and up into Ethan’s bones, making his heart sync with the beat whether he wanted it to or not. The playlist jumped between high-energy tracks and older party anthems everyone knew the words to, voices shouting along off-key but full of joy. Bodies filled the clearing, dancing in loose groups around the bonfire, shadows stretching long and wild across the dirt and leaves. Sparks flew every time someone tossed another log on the flames, the fire roaring higher and hotter, casting everything in flickering orange and gold that made the night feel alive. Coolers had been raided hard, ice turning to slush as cans and bottles got pulled out nonstop. Red Solo cups passed from hand to hand, filled with whatever people poured—beer, mixed sodas spiked heavily with vodka or rum, even that suspicious punch bowl th

The clearing felt bigger the longer Ethan stood there, the bonfire casting shifting shadows that made everything look a little unreal. Music pulsed through the air, bass thumping so deep it rattled his ribs and made his pulse match the rhythm whether he wanted it to or not. People kept arriving in small groups, laughter and shouts blending with the tracks blasting from the speakers. Someone had hooked up fairy lights on low branches, adding soft white glows that mixed with the fire’s orange, turning the woods into something almost magical and chaotic at the same time.Ethan sipped his drink again, the alcohol spreading warmth through his limbs faster than he expected. He wasn’t used to this—barely ever drank, usually sticking to water or soda at team hangs.But tonight the buzz felt like a shield, dulling the sharp replay of that missed layup and the way Marcus had saved the game at the last second. The inferiority still sat there, but it was fuzzier now, easier to push aside.Tyron

The past three months had been a relentless storm, slowly breaking the edges of their life together, like waves on a weak beach. Zhao Kai, ensnared in a vicious legal tangle, had been accused of assaulting a man who later sued for a fat payout. It was all a big misunderstanding, but truth meant little when greed and rivalry fueled the fire. His business adversaries pounced, prolonging the ordeal with every dirty trick in their arsenal. Liu Jian, Zhao Kai's steadfast attorney and lover, buried himself in the fight. He unearthed irrefutable evidence of innocence from witness statements to surveillance footage and even alibis that shattered the lies but the case dragged on for a grueling ninety days, each hearing a fresh blade twisted in their backs. Yang Jun, meanwhile, was drowning in corporate chaos. The company's stock plummeted like a stone in deep water, investors circling like sharks ready to bolt. The marketing teams—1, 2, and 3—were pushed to the brink, rotating shifts to cras

The late afternoon sun filtered through the heavy curtains of Zhao Kai’s bedroom, casting golden streaks across the hardwood floor. Zhao Kai lounged on the bed, his sharp features softened by the glow of his iPad as he scrolled through a dense academic paper. The faint hum of city life drifted through the cracked window, a distant counterpoint to the quiet intensity of the room. Liu Jian, restless and sprawled beside him, broke the silence with a provocative grin. “Let me fuck you,” Liu Jian said, his voice low and teasing, eyes glinting with mischief. Zhao Kai’s gaze flicked up from the screen, his dark eyes narrowing with a mix of amusement and exasperation. Without a word, he returned to his paper, dismissing Liu Jian’s advance with the casual indifference of someone long accustomed to his antics. “Come on,” Liu Jian pressed, leaning closer, his tone a blend of pout and challenge. “You’ve fucked me plenty of times. Why can’t I have a turn just once?” Zhao Kai sighed, setting th

Zhao Kai stormed into the house, his shoulders taut with the weight of a brutal day, his tie already yanked loose and dangling like a noose around his neck. The air crackled with his pent-up tension—stress warring with a raw, insistent hunger that pulsed through his veins. He tossed his keys onto the counter with a clatter and made a beeline for the master bedroom, his polished dress shoes clicking sharply against the hardwood floor. When he reached the doorway, he paused, his breath catching at the sight of Yang Jun sprawled across the plush gray sofa nestled against the far wall. The man was engrossed in a thick paperback, its spine creased from use, his dark hair falling messily over his forehead. A single lamp cast a warm golden glow over him, softening the sharp angles of his face. Yang Jun didn’t look up immediately, but the shift in the air—Zhao Kai’s heavy presence—must have prickled his senses. His eyes flicked upward, narrowing into a scowl as he caught Zhao Kai staring, u

Yang Jun stirred awake, his body sandwiched between two naked alphas—himself included. As he tried to sit up, a guttural growl of pain tore from his throat, and he collapsed back onto the tangled sheets, the mattress dipping under his weight. His back throbbed mercilessly, a relentless ache that pulsed like a second heartbeat, radiating from his spine down to his hips. He clenched his teeth, fury bubbling up inside him. The cause of his misery was still peacefully asleep beside him, their breathing steady and infuriatingly calm. Unable to contain his frustration, Yang Jun lashed out, smacking the nearest body with a sharp, stinging slap. Zhao Kai jolted awake with a groan, the hit landing squarely on his cheek, leaving a faint red mark. Beside him, Liu Jian sat up too, clutching his head where Yang Jun’s hand had connected, his dark hair falling messily over his eyes. “Ow! What the hell, man? Why’d you hit me so fuckin’ hard?” Liu Jian grumbled, his voice rough with sleep and irritat

Yang Jun had just returned to work, his face bright with smiles as he greeted everyone. He hadn't even settled into his chair when Chen Xingxu approached him, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "Do you have your international passport up to date?" "Yes, what's going on?" Yang Jun replied, skepticism creeping into his voice. His international passport was one of the things his parents made him renew even though he had actually no plans of ever travelling. "Well, it's our lucky day," Chen Xingxu announced, barely containing his enthusiasm. "You and I have been chosen to go to Hawaii for an ad shoot." Yang Jun groaned internally, feeling the weight of exhaustion already pressing down on him. And so, Yang Jun found himself on an airplane, with Chen Xingxu snoring loudly against his shoulder. Yang Jun cursed Zhao Kai under his breath, who was comfortably nestled in first class while he endured the cramped conditions of economy. Teams were randomly selected from the marketing team, the

“Dad, Mom, I’m back home,” Yang Jun announced as he stepped into the familiar warmth of his parents’ living room. The television blared cheerfully, flashing bright colors from a game show that neither of his parents were truly watching anymore. The low table in front of the couch was littered with sunflower seed shells, an unmistakable sign that his parents had been camped there for hours. The air smelled comforting and lived in, a mix of roasted seeds, detergent, and the faint aroma of simmering soup from the kitchen. “Ah, Jun, you’re back!” Mrs. Yang immediately stood up, her face breaking into a wide smile. She wiped her hands on her apron before pulling him into a brief but tight hug, patting his back like she was making sure he was real. Mr. Yang glanced over briefly from the television, acknowledging his son with a nod before his attention drifted back to the screen. “Why did you suddenly bring all these snacks and groceries?” Mr. Yang asked, finally turning his head properl