#while moving out of my apartment here and moving to a different continent | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thebunnednun · 1 month

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LOYALTY [Chapter 4]

Katsuki Bakugou x Sugar Baby! Reader

Summary: Fuck a breakup, you ever have your fiance and partner of 8 years dump you during his promotion party in front of your bosses and the whole office with the girl he told you, “Don’t worry about,” on his arm?

The man you moved continents to support and move in with while you worked from home and helped promote his hero career because you thought he loved you and he called it an investment in your future together while you just did it out of love?

Welp, now he’s kicked you out in a strange land and you’ve gotta make it on your own. When you can't get a new job or apartment and tuition is almost due: you’ve got two options: Strip it or lose.

And I guess the angry blond that keeps coming back to your club wants to help you too.

Summary:

Bakugou can't sleep and you're gonna help him. Too bad your ex is trying to get you tho.

Tonight's song: Put your head on my shoulder by Paul Anka

--------------------------Chapter 5: Sleepless--------------------------

Katsuki Bakugou sat slouched at his desk, his eyes half-lidded as he struggled to stay awake. He’d barely gotten any sleep last night, his mind racing with thoughts he couldn’t quite shake. It was unlike him to be this distracted—he was always the first one in the office, ready to tackle whatever the day threw at him. But today was different.

Kirishima strolled into the office, his usual grin plastered on his face. He could tell something was off with Bakugou the moment he saw him, and he couldn’t resist poking fun at his best friend.

“Yo, Bakubro! What happened? Did you go to bed at 8:31 instead of 8:30 like usual?” Kirishima teased, leaning casually against the doorframe.

Bakugou’s crimson eyes narrowed, the familiar fire flickering back to life despite his exhaustion. Without a word, he raised his hand and sent a small explosion towards Kirishima’s face. The redhead reacted instantly, hardening his skin to absorb the blast without a scratch, the force of it blowing his hair back slightly. He grinned even wider, unfazed by the attack.

“Not in the mood, shitty hair,” Bakugou grumbled, reaching for a bottle of water on his desk and guzzling it down in one go. The cool liquid did little to wake him up, but it was better than nothing.

Kirishima chuckled, sliding a cup of coffee across the desk towards his friend. “Relax, man. You look like you didn’t sleep at all. Maybe we could get you some sleep aids through the company. Or, y’know, you could try those ASMR videos of people cooking. That seems right up your alley.”

Bakugou shot him another glare, but it lacked its usual intensity. He knew Kirishima was just trying to help in his own way, but it only irritated him more. It wasn’t like he could explain what was really bothering him. How was he supposed to tell his best friend that he couldn’t stop thinking about a girl he saw at a club? A girl that he subscribed to and she didn’t even need to get naked. A girl that made him feel alive and seen last night. A girl who returned both his phone and wallet when he forgot them while his head was still reeling from the little heart she left on the glass for him and didn’t touch anything in or on them. This wasn’t him. He didn’t get hung up on shit like that.

With a heavy sigh, Bakugou slumped back in his chair, letting his eyes drift shut for a moment. “I don’t need that shit. M’fine,” he muttered, though the weariness in his voice betrayed him.

Kirishima softened his gaze, recognizing the weight behind Bakugou’s words. He knew his friend better than anyone, knew when to push and when to back off. This was one of those times where Bakugou needed space, even if he wouldn’t admit it. But that didn’t mean Kirishima wasn’t going to keep an eye on him.

“Alright, man. But if you need to talk, you know I’m here,” Kirishima offered, his tone light, but sincere.

Bakugou grunted in response, still half-asleep but grateful in his own way for the gesture. He leaned back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling as he tried to shake off the lingering thoughts from last night. But no matter how hard he tried, your face, your voice, your touch against the glass—it all kept playing in his mind like a broken record.

Kirishima watched his friend, concern creeping into his features. He wasn’t used to seeing Bakugou like this, so lost in his own head. It wasn’t normal, and that worried him more than anything.

“Seriously, though. You look like crap, Bakugou. Maybe take a break today? I can handle things for a bit.”

Bakugou’s eyes snapped open, a fierce scowl forming on his face as he sat up straight. “Don’t tell me what to do, shitty hair,” he snapped, the fire back in his voice. But there was something different in the way he said it, a tinge of frustration that wasn’t usually there.

Kirishima raised his hands in mock surrender, a playful grin on his face. “Alright, alright. Just take care of yourself, okay?”

Bakugou didn’t respond, his mind already wandering back to you. He hated how much space you were taking up in his thoughts, but the more he tried to push it away, the more it clung to him. What was it about you that had gotten under his skin so easily?

As the morning dragged on, Bakugou couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he knew one thing for certain—he needed to see you again. And that thought, more than anything, kept him on edge.

---

The apartment was more than you could’ve hoped for. Spacious, clean, and blessedly affordable, it was the perfect place to start the next chapter of your life. The rent, at $750 a month, was a miracle in a city where finding decent housing was like winning the lottery. And the best part? You were only ten minutes away from Mr. Muhammad and Mrs. Yukiji’s apartment, which meant you could still babysit and tutor their kids—something you’d grown to love doing.

Michael had been relentless in pushing you to snag the place the moment it became available. You hadn’t been as eager at first, especially when you found out it was the apartment next to hers, but Michael, with her boundless energy and persuasive charm, had made it impossible to say no. It didn’t hurt that she was in the same major as you, and you’d grown close during your time together at school.

She was more than just a friend; she was your confidante, the big sister you never had.

The other girls from the club had turned out to be in a similar boat. Students, just like you, all trying to make ends meet while juggling classes and work. When the campus housing became too expensive, even with grants and scholarships, they’d banded together, pooling their resources and looking out for each other like a little family. Michael, ever the leader, had welcomed you into the fold without hesitation. Despite your initial shyness and ironic dislike for physical touch, they adored you. You were their baby, the one they all wanted to protect.

Ruby—or Megumi, as you knew her outside the club—had even offered to help you get back at your ex by having her boyfriend smash his car. The image of sweet, petite Ruby taking a bat to a car was enough to make you laugh, though you quickly turned down the offer, not wanting her boyfriend to get another strike on his record.

Then there was the matter of your safety. Your day job was getting strange, with less projects being sent your way, so you’d confided in Michael about the security tape and microchip you’d taken. Without missing a beat, she’d helped you make copies and store them in a safe, just in case. Two copies were hidden in the Muhammads’ apartment, tucked away where no one would think to look.

Today, the Muhammads were helping you sign the lease for your new apartment. Mr. Muhammad, a kind, soft-spoken man in his early 50s, was a history professor at the local university. His wife, Mrs. Muhammad, was a petite Japanese woman with a serene smile and a talent for making you feel instantly at ease. Their oldest daughter, Amira, was in high school, a bright and driven teenager who reminded you a lot of yourself at that age. Their young son, Kaito, was a bundle of energy, always asking questions and eager to learn about the world around him.

When you introduced Michael as a friend from work, the Muhammads took to her immediately. She joked about you being a good girlfriend, which totally went over their heads, but you threw her a look anyway as she giggled. Michael knew how much the Muhammads meant to you, and she was careful to keep things light and respectful, even if she couldn’t resist teasing you a bit.

As you walked through the apartment, you marveled at how everything had fallen into place. The white walls were pristine, the oak hardwood floors gleamed in the afternoon light, and the kitchen was small but functional—a perfect fit for someone who wasn’t exactly a master chef. (C0ugh *you* cOuGh) The two bedrooms were cozy, with plenty of closet space, and the living room had a large window that overlooked a quiet, tree-lined street.

The extra furniture, courtesy of your generous subscribers, was a bit harder to explain. You and Michael had frantically hidden it inside her apartment until you could put it all together later. The night before you and her skipped work to take the train to your job’s building. Why? Because you weren’t gonna tell the sweet old couple where the furniture came from.

Micheal was surprised that your old car, affectionately called "the lemon," was still running after you recovered it from your day job's parking lot. You playfully told her to hush, not wanting to jinx it. The two of you piled in and raced home to perform a “reverse breakin” knowing that the building’s tenants would be up soon and you really didn’t wanna catch your ex before his morning run.

You didn’t even care that it was a very empty apartment. You had freedom that no one could take away from you. You were living by yourself for the first time ever and that was a big deal.

The place was a blank canvas, waiting for your own personal touch.

Once the lease was signed and the keys were handed over, you all pitched in to move your actual things. It went surprisingly smoothly, considering your limited resources. Michael made sure to lighten the mood with her usual jokes, and even Mr. Muhammad cracked a smile as he helped carry in a particularly heavy box. By the time you were done, the apartment was filled with the sounds of laughter and the comforting buzz of a new home being settled into.

That evening, you decided to thank the Muhammads by cooking dinner for them. It was a modest attempt—nothing fancy, just a simple stir-fry and some rice—but you wanted to show your appreciation. The stir-fry had been a bit more adventurous than you’d planned, and you’d accidentally set off the alarms with some overzealous seasoning. As you bustled around the kitchen, you could hear the family joking in the living room about how it was good you were testing out the smoke alarms.

So take out it was!

Sitting down to dinner with them felt like a small piece of normalcy in your otherwise chaotic life. They were your family now, and as you shared a meal together, you felt a sense of warmth and belonging that had been missing for a long time. The Muhammads’ daughter, Amira, asked you about your classes and asked if you would come to her volleyball tournament. Kaito, their son, was more interested in showing you his latest LEGO creation, proudly displaying it on the dining table as you all ate.

Mrs. Yukiji complimented you on the meal, her eyes twinkling with amusement as she assured you the smoke alarm incident was just part of the learning process. Mr. Muhammad, ever the gentle old guy, simply smiled and nodded, grateful for the effort you’d put in.

As the evening wound down and you walked them to the door, you felt a swell of gratitude for the way they’d welcomed you into their lives. It wasn’t just about signing the lease or moving into a new apartment; it was about building a support system, about knowing you weren’t alone in the world. You had Michael and the girls, the Muhammads, and even your new subscribers, all playing a part in helping you find your footing again.

‘I should do another show soon.’

And as you stood in your new apartment, the sounds of the city filtering in through the window, you felt something you hadn’t in a long time: hope.

While you wash the dishes, Mrs. Yukiji approaches you quietly, her usual warm smile replaced with a concerned expression. She gently taps your shoulder, drawing you away from the sink.

“Sweetheart,” she begins, her voice soft but serious, “I need to talk to you about something.” She reaches into her apron pocket and pulls out a small, yellow package. “This arrived for you, but… it’s from him.”

Your heart skips a beat at the mention of his name, and you can feel your breath catch in your throat. Kyoya—the one person you’ve been trying so hard to avoid, the reason you’d gone through all this trouble to stay off the grid.

Mrs. Yukiji sighs, her eyes filled with motherly concern. “I didn’t mean to snoop, but I’ve been trying to get all your mail redirected to your new place. When I saw this, I thought it was best to let you know right away.” She gently places the package in your hand.

“He’s been asking about you,” she continues, her brow furrowing slightly. “Living with us might have helped you stay hidden, but… you should be careful, my dear. You never know with men like that.”

You feel a rush of mixed emotions—fear, anxiety, but also a sense of safety standing here with her.

“I don’t know what’s in that package, but…” Mrs. Yukiji’s voice softens further as she reaches up to kiss your temple, her short stature requiring her to stretch a bit. “Maybe you should open it at the police station, just in case it’s something… unpleasant. We’re here for you, remember that.”

Her words, though unsettling, carry the warmth and love that only someone who truly cares about you could offer.

Mrs. Yukiji gives you one last reassuring smile before she heads back to the living room. You watch her return to the cozy space, where Michael immediately makes room for her on the couch. The two of them share a brief exchange, and then Michael's gaze shifts back to you, her eyebrows lifting in curiosity.

You hold up the small yellow package, its presence a stark contrast to the warm, homey atmosphere of your new apartment. Michael tilts her head, a silent question in her eyes. You mouth the words, "Ex-man," with a touch of exasperation.

Michael's response is immediate and dramatic. She rolls her eyes, then, making sure no one else is watching, she pretends to choke herself, her expression a comically exaggerated mix of annoyance and disgust. The sight makes you stifle a laugh, your shoulders shaking with quiet giggles.

You set the package down inside the trash can, it doesn’t deserve a place in your new life—not on your new kitchen counters, not anywhere in this apartment that’s quickly becoming your sanctuary.

The small act of discarding it feels like a weight lifted from your chest, and when you glance back at Michael, she gives you a subtle thumbs-up, her eyes twinkling with approval.

You didn’t know what kind of statement he was trying to make but he could take it and shove it straight up his-

“The shows back on!”

“I’m coming!”

–

Up on the rooftop, Bakugou and Kirishima sit with their legs dangling over the edge, enjoying the fresh air as they dig into their convenience store haul. The city hums beneath them, but the height offers a certain peace that neither of them can get on the crowded streets below. Bakugou munches on a sandwich, the coffee he picked up doing little to shake the exhaustion clinging to him. Kirishima, always on alert, keeps watch while they eat, his eyes scanning the horizon.

Kirishima breaks the silence first, biting into an apple before glancing over at his friend. “You going back to that club tonight?”

Bakugou shrugs, hunching over as he chews, clearly not interested in the conversation.

“Come on, bro,” Kirishima continues, trying to sound lighthearted. “I love seeing you get out there, but this isn’t the way to start living your life. You’re gonna get brain rot.” He tosses the rest of his apple toward Bakugou, who catches it effortlessly and glares at him.

“If I did, it’s from hanging out with you for so long,” Bakugou snaps back, rubbing his tired eyes. The coffee isn’t doing its job, but he refuses to pump himself full of those sugary energy drinks that make him feel like crap later.

Kirishima just grins and scoots a little closer. “Come on, man, you gonna tell me what’s up or am I not your bestie anymore?”

Bakugou groans, burying his face in his hands. “I met someone.”

Silence hangs in the air, and when Bakugou looks up, he sees Kirishima staring blankly at him, mouth slightly open.

“What?” Bakugou barks, annoyed.

“Nothing, nothing. Continue.” Kirishima quickly shakes himself out of it, but there’s a hint of surprise lingering on his face.

Bakugou glares, but then sighs, the weight of his thoughts pushing down on him. “I met someone at one of those stupid hangouts Pikachu organized. Now I can’t stop thinking about them.”

Kirishima props his chin on his fist, considering this. “Did you not grab their number or something?”

“No.”

“So you’ve been bummed because you met someone you were interested in and didn’t take a chance?”

“Her.”

“Excuse me?”

“I didn’t grab her number,” Bakugou clarifies, emphasizing the word with a scowl.

Kirishima blinks rapidly, processing this new information. “You got something to say?” Bakugou challenges, a dangerous edge to his tone.

“No, no, I just—well, I’m a little surprised,” Kirishima admits, holding up his hands in surrender. “So you’ve been going back, hoping to run into her again?”

“I do run into her, but she’s on the clock, and I don’t wanna mess up her shifts.”

Kirishima, assuming this mystery woman must be a bartender or something similar, nods sagely. “Ah, yeah, bro, it’s not manly to hit on someone while they’re working.”

Bakugou grunts in agreement, still looking a little lost in his thoughts.

“Tell that to your fangirls,” Bakugou adds, his tone a mix of irritation and amusement. “Would it kill you to put on a shirt once in a while?” Kirishima laughs, the sound booming through the quiet evening air. “Hey! You get crowded way more than me, and the shirt would get ruined anyway! It would be like trying to groom a pineapple!”

Despite himself, Bakugou smirks at that, shaking his head. “You’re such a dumbass.”

“Yeah, but I’m your dumbass,” Kirishima shoots back with a grin, bumping Bakugou’s shoulder playfully. “And I’m telling you, man, you gotta figure this out. Whether you want to admit it or not, this is getting to you.”

Bakugou looks out at the skyline, his smirk fading as his thoughts drift back to the club, to the mysterious woman who’s somehow taken root in his mind. Maybe Kirishima’s right. Maybe he needs to do something about this before it drives him crazy.

His eyes narrowed as he stared out at the city, the cool breeze doing little to calm the turmoil in his mind. He had half a mind to pull out his phone and check it—just to see if you had responded to his message—but he stopped himself. It was a stupid idea. He knew it. The last thing he needed was to get caught up in something that would only distract him more.

With a frustrated sigh, he shoved his phone deeper into his pocket, deciding to ignore it for now. Kirishima was finishing up his sandwich, glancing over at Bakugou every now and then with a concerned look.

The minutes dragged on, each one feeling like an eternity as they finished their patrol. The usual rhythm of their shift felt off, each passing second grating against Bakugou’s nerves. He could hardly focus on anything else, his mind continuously drifting back to that night, to you, and how you had somehow managed to take up residence in his thoughts.

Finally, the clock ticked over, signaling the end of their shift. Bakugou almost bolted for the door, eager to escape the endless loop of thoughts running through his mind. But as they were getting ready to leave, he vaguely remembered something his manager had mentioned earlier—something about a meeting with another agency. He brushed it off for now, deciding that whatever it was, it could wait. All he wanted was to go home and try to decompress.

Kirishima, always considerate, ordered takeout for dinner. He knew Bakugou would come out later, like a rat in the night, to eat whatever was left. When they got home, Kirishima made sure to leave Bakugou’s food in the fridge, his way of looking out for his best friend.

“Hey, I’m heading out with Mina,” Kirishima said as he popped his head into Bakugou’s room, checking in one last time before he left. “You good?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Bakugou grumbled, though they both knew it was a half-truth at best.

Kirishima gave him a reassuring smile. “Alright, man. Try to get some rest, okay?”

Bakugou nodded, already turning over in bed as Kirishima flicked off the lights, leaving only the lamp and bathroom light on. The AC hummed softly, keeping the room at a comfortable level.

Despite how much he wanted to sleep, Bakugou found himself wide awake, staring up at the ceiling with red, swollen eyes. The exhaustion weighed on him, but his mind refused to shut down. He kept replaying everything—your face, the way you moved, the sound of your voice. It all kept circling in his head, a constant reminder of what he couldn’t seem to let go.

He clenched his fists, frustrated with himself for letting this get to him. This wasn’t like him. He was Katsuki Bakugou, for crying out loud. He didn’t let things like this mess with his head. And yet, here he was, unable to find peace, unable to shake the feeling that something was missing.

‘You know what’s missing.’

The night dragged on, the quiet ticking of the clock only serving to amplify the silence in his room. Bakugou closed his eyes, willing sleep to come, but all he could see was you—dancing in his mind, haunting his every thought.

"Lemme find out that bitch quirked me," Bakugou muttered under his breath, the frustration evident in his voice. He kicked the blankets off the mattress, feeling the oppressive heat of the night suffocating him. The city's lights, filtering in through the blinds, cast a harsh glare across his room, making it feel even hotter. The bed seemed to cling to him, its scratchy fabric rubbing against his skin in a way that only heightened his discomfort.

He tossed and turned, replaying the evening over and over in his mind. Despite taking a shower earlier, he felt as though he needed another one, desperate to wash away the residual restlessness clinging to him.

But it wasn’t just physical discomfort; it was the emotional turmoil that gnawed at him. The moment your eyes met, there was something so profoundly different about you.

He couldn’t stop thinking about how soft and delicate your features had been, how you had looked so soft and huggable. The warmth in his stomach had spread to his chest, a feeling that was both alien and oddly comforting. You had respected his personal space, never making things awkward, never pushing boundaries. It was a rare feeling for him—being treated with such genuine humanity without any judgment.

The warmth in his chest felt like a conflicting beacon, pulling him towards thoughts of you even as he tried to push them away. He rolled over to glance at the clock on his bedside table, the bright red digits glaring back at him:

12:05 AM

Bakugou groaned, dragging a hand through his tousled hair. This was ridiculous. He couldn’t let a simple encounter with someone mess with his head like this. He needed to get some sleep, to clear his mind. But the more he tried to push the thoughts away, the more vividly they replayed in his head—the glow of your features, the way you had made him feel seen, the peculiar comfort that came from being in your presence.

He let out a frustrated sigh and buried his face in his pillow. Maybe it was just a fleeting connection, something that would fade with time. But for now, the city's lights and the ticking of the clock seemed to mock him, keeping him wide awake as he wrestled with the feelings that had unexpectedly crept into his life.

Bakugou closed his eyes, willing himself to steady his breathing. The room was still, save for the soft hum of the air conditioning and the faint sounds of the city outside. He focused on his breath, in and out, trying to anchor himself in the present. But as much as he tried to push the thoughts away, his mind wandered back to you. The memory of your dance played in his head like a vivid daydream, accompanied by the beat of that song you had chosen for him.

He had been listening to it on his Spotify since that night. The lyrics had burrowed into his brain, especially that one line that made it feel so personal. He knew he was an arrogant asshole—he was better than he was in high school, but that line had hit something deeper. As the song played in his head, he could almost see your silhouette, the way you had moved so fluidly, so intimately, like you were dancing just for him.

Katsuki shifted on his bed, his fingers absentmindedly drumming against the mattress as the scene replayed in his mind. The way your body moved, the way your eyes had locked onto his even through the barrier of glass. It had felt so personal, as if you knew him, really knew him, in a way no one else did. He could feel the tension in his chest, the yearning to hold you, to reach out and touch you, to feel the warmth of your skin against his.

But at the same time, he hesitated. He didn't want to mess everything up with his abrasive personality or his bad attitude. He didn't want to come off as a prick or discover that you weren't anything like the version of you he had built up in his head. The fear of ruining something before it even had a chance to begin gnawed at him.

He clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white against the dark sheets, and then released them, repeating the action several times as if it could somehow dispel the restless energy coursing through him. The song's lyrics echoed in his mind, the word "loyalty" standing out above the rest. Bakugou hated liars. He hated posers. He hated pushy people who invaded his space. He could at least tolerate his former classmates, even if they were dumbasses most of the time. But with you... it was different. You hadn’t pushed. You hadn’t judged. You had just been there, existing in his space without making him feel crowded.

And then there was that heart you had drawn on the glass.

His breath hitched at the memory. That simple, playful gesture had done something to him. It had felt like a connection, something unspoken but real. He wanted to reach out, to touch that heart, to feel the warmth behind it. But at the same time, he was terrified of shattering the peace you seemed to have.

Katsuki sat up, running a hand through his messy hair, the strands sticking up at odd angles. The red digits on his clock now read 12:15 AM, and the night felt like it would never end. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, his feet hitting the cool floor. The tension in his body refused to ease, and he found himself standing up, pacing the small space of his room. The shadows shifted with his movements, the city lights casting faint patterns on the walls.

He stopped by the window, staring out at the city below, his hands gripping the windowsill. He wanted to see you again, to experience that connection once more. But he was torn—between wanting to pull you into his life and wanting to keep his distance, afraid of what might happen if he let himself get too close.

Bakugou sighed, the sound heavy in the quiet of the room, and leaned his forehead against the cool glass of the window. He didn’t have answers, only the frustrating knowledge that you had gotten under his skin in a way no one else ever had.

And now, he didn’t know how to get you out.

Bakugou gripped the curtains beside him, his fingers twisting the fabric as he closed his eyes and forced himself to relive that moment. That stupid, reckless moment when he had stood up and placed his hand on the glass, reaching out to you without thinking.

He couldn’t see you clearly through the barrier, but he could tell you were smaller than him—tiny, almost. The way your head tilted when you noticed his hand against the glass made his heart lurch, and for a second, he almost pulled away, knowing he had startled you.

But something had kept him there. Stubbornness, or desire—he didn’t know what it was, but he willed himself to stay, to hold his ground. And then you did it. You placed your smaller hand against his, mirroring his gesture, and in that instant, he swore he felt something stir within him. It was as if his heart had started beating again, pounding against his ribs with a force he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Hot electricity had shot through his fingertips, through his palm, down his arm, and into his chest. The sensation had been overwhelming, pooling around his heart, suffusing it with warmth and life. It was as if you had reached inside him and jump-started it, breathing new energy into something that had been dormant for far too long. The intensity of it had taken him by surprise, and for a moment, he’d felt utterly exposed, vulnerable in a way he hadn’t allowed himself to be in years.

‘Might as well have shot me,’ he thought, a bitter laugh bubbling up in his throat. No, it was more than that. It was like you had stabbed him, plunged a knife into his chest. Stabbing was much more intimate, after all—something personal, something that you had to think out.

"Fuck, no. Don’t think like that," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head as if to dislodge the thought.

His grip on the curtains tightened, his knuckles turning white as he shut his eyes again, trying to block out the image of you standing there, just on the other side of that glass. When he opened his eyes, he felt sick, the room spinning around him as he looked down at the city below. The bright lights that usually made him feel alive now made him dizzy, disoriented, like the ground beneath him was shifting. He wasn’t afraid of heights—he never had been—so why did it feel like the floor was falling out from under him?

Why was there a sharp pain in his chest, like something was tearing him apart from the inside?

His breath hitched, and for the first time in a long time, Bakugou felt like he was drowning in emotions he couldn’t control. The city stretched out beneath him, vast and indifferent, and he felt so small, so insignificant against it all. He hated feeling like this, hated the weakness that gnawed at him.

Why couldn’t you be here to save him?

The thought was irrational, pathetic even, but it clawed at him, a desperate longing he couldn’t shake. He didn’t need saving—he never had. He was Katsuki Bakugou, for fuck’s sake. He was strong, capable, a force to be reckoned with. But right now, all he wanted was for you to be there, to pull him out of this spiral before it swallowed him whole.

He released the curtains and stumbled back from the window, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His hand pressed against his chest as if he could somehow calm the storm raging inside him, but it was no use. You weren’t there, and he was left to face the crushing emptiness on his own.

Bakugou’s mind was a chaotic mess, torn between the urge to race down to your club and the instinct to keep his distance. How desperate would he have to be to show up there, to corner you with his feelings? He could already imagine it—the awkward encounter, the way you’d probably smile politely while thinking of the countless other clients who had begged for your attention, begged you to go out with them. He wasn’t just another guy, he knew that. But would you see him that way?

The thought of fucking everything up gnawed at him. What if he came off as a stalker, some creep who couldn’t take a hint? And what if—God, what if you were already in a relationship? What if you were happy with someone else, someone who wasn’t an arrogant, short-tempered asshole like him? The idea made him sick, but it was a reality he had to consider.

How selfish did he need to be before he lost his morality?

The question echoed in his mind, and for a moment, he was frozen in place, staring out at the city lights. But then something inside him snapped. He couldn’t stand the uncertainty, the not knowing. He had to do something—anything to alleviate the pressure building in his chest.

Without thinking, he turned away from the window and went back to his bed, grabbing his phone off the nightstand. His fingers were trembling as he unlocked it and scrolled through his messages, searching for the one he had sent you earlier. It was simple, direct, but it had taken him way too long to hit send.

Spiceman420: “You streaming tonight?”

That was it. He’d stared at the screen for what felt like an eternity before finally sending it. It wasn’t much, but it was all he could manage without sounding like a complete idiot.

Now, as he sat on the edge of his bed, he hesitated again. His thumb hovered over the screen, debating whether to check if you’d responded. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, his anxiety growing with each passing second. But eventually, he couldn’t resist. He tapped the message thread and felt his breath hitch when he saw that you were online—right now.

His heart did somersaults as he saw the small notification indicating that you had replied. With a mix of dread and hope, he opened the message.

xxPrincess Diamondxx: “Hey! Sorry I missed your message. :p I was soo tired but I’m doing a little something tonight. I was hoping you’d join me :) Here’s a personal invite just for you.”

You’d sent him a direct invite to your stream, something personal, just for him. Bakugou’s heart raced as he read the words over and over, his mind struggling to process that you had actually reached out to him, that you had thought of him. His fingers trembled as he fumbled for his earbuds, desperate to hear your voice again, even if it was only through a screen.

He quickly accepted the invite, feeling his nerves spike as the screen loaded. The cool night air brushed against his skin as he unlocked the window and stepped outside, needing the fresh air to steady himself. He sat on the ledge, his feet dangling over the side as he waited for the stream to start. The city lights below shimmered like a sea of stars, but all he could focus on was the anticipation building in his chest.

As the stream connected, the familiar interface of the platform greeted him, and he took a deep breath. He was about to see you again, even if it was just a virtual encounter. The thought both thrilled and terrified him. He didn’t know what to expect, didn’t know if he was ready to face you again, but there was no turning back now.

The screen flickered, and there you were. His breath caught in his throat as he saw you appear, the soft glow of your setup highlighting your features. You looked just as beautiful as he remembered, maybe even more so. The sight of you sent a wave of warmth through his body, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly as he settled in to watch.

His fingers clenched around the phone, his heart still pounding as he tried to calm his racing thoughts. He didn’t know what was going to happen next, but for now, he was content just to be here, just to see you. He adjusted his earbuds and leaned back against the window frame, letting the cool night air wash over him as he watched you, the tension in his chest slowly giving way to a strange sense of peace.

—-

You and Michael spent hours putting together that furniture, each piece stubbornly resisting your efforts until you finally caved and called some friends for backup. They brought their boyfriends along, who managed to figure out the assembly after watching a few YouTube videos. Finally, your guest bedroom transformed into a cuter, more posh version of your old basement setup.

The room is undeniably feminine and inviting, with soft pink bedsheets draped over a plush, cozy bed that beckons you to sink into it. The furniture, painted in delicate shades of white and cream, has a vintage charm, with intricate details and personal touches scattered throughout. A vanity sits against one wall, its mirror framed by warm lights, perfect for your evening rituals. The decor reflects your personality—elegant yet playful, with framed photos, scented candles, and soft throws adding warmth to the space.

You’ve lit some candles, their flickering flames casting a soft glow around the room. Your new guest bedroom is a cozy, feminine retreat, far more inviting than the old basement setup. You slip into your cherry red robe, the silky fabric hugging your figure nicely. The robe, a recent purchase, was a little indulgence you allowed yourself, and every time you put it on, it ironically reminds you of a client’s eyes. His intense gaze had left a lasting impression, one that still lingers in your mind.

But you shake off the thought as you prepare for the night.

As you go live, the chat comes alive with messages, tips, and comments pouring in from your adoring fans. You smile, welcoming everyone warmly and explaining that after a whirlwind of life changes, you wanted to share a relaxing, intimate night with them.

The atmosphere in the chat is buzzing with affection and curiosity as they ask you questions, their excitement palpable through the screen. You're in control, dictating the pace, and it feels empowering. Tonight, you're going to unwind with them, but on your terms.

You continue with your nightly routine, grabbing your toothbrush and toothpaste. The chat buzzes with activity as you brush your teeth, some viewers commenting on how meticulous you are while others ask about your skincare products. Once your teeth are brushed, you reach for your moisturizer, applying it in gentle circles across your face.

BlushBerry: “Your skin literally glows! I need your entire skincare line!”

LunarDreamer:“I love how thorough you are with everything. It’s so relaxing to watch.”

You smile, feeling the cool moisturizer absorb into your skin. “Thanks, guys. I try to be consistent. It’s like a little ritual for me every night.”

With your skin now hydrated and fresh, you move to the closet, taking your time to pick out an outfit for work tomorrow. You slide the hangers across the rod before settling on something particularly spicy—a black, lacy bodysuit with sheer panels, paired with a sleek denim mini skirt and thigh-high boots. You hold the outfit up for the camera, grinning mischievously as the chat erupts.

Yourmom69: “Whoa, that’s hot! What’s the occasion?”*

ShadowKnight: “Damn, that’s a killer outfit. Can we get a full view?”

You chuckle as you lay the outfit out on the bed, adjusting the camera to show it off. “Let’s just say I like to keep things interesting. Gotta keep the workday spicy, right?”

Retrofan23: “What do you do for work that you get to wear something like that?”

You tilt your head playfully, leaning closer to the camera. “Oh, you know...I like to keep secrets. Any ideas?” You shoot them a teasing wink, watching as the chat goes wild with guesses ranging from model to dancer to secret agent.

As you finish setting up for tomorrow, you prop your phone against a stack of textbooks, making sure the angle captures you perfectly. You slip into bed, the plush pink sheets almost swallowing you whole as you sink into the mattress. The softness is immediately soothing, and you can’t help but let out a small, content sigh as you settle in.

The chat explodes again, filled with compliments and heart emojis.

GoldenSunset: “You look so cute and comfy! Those sheets are everything.”

VelvetRose: “That bed looks like heaven! And you in it? Perfection.”

You smile, feeling the warmth of the bed and the affectionate words from your viewers. As you shift slightly, your robe loosens, revealing the little white shorts you’re wearing underneath. The movement also causes the robe to slip off one shoulder, teasing just a hint of cleavage, enough to drive the chat wild.

StarGazer88: “Those shorts! 😍 And dem shoulders girl… wow.”*

FrightenedFae: “No bra? You’re spoiling us!”*

You laugh softly, pulling the robe back up a bit but leaving it just loose enough to keep them guessing. “You guys are too much. But hey, it’s all about comfort, right? Gotta be cozy before bed.”

Yourmom69: “You’re killing me with these vibes. It’s like I’m right there with you.”

You lean back against the pillows, relaxing as the chat continues to buzz with energy. “So, what about you guys? What do you do to unwind before bed? Any special routines?”

The responses come in quickly, with viewers sharing their own nightly rituals, from reading to meditating to watching their favorite shows. The exchange is easy and familiar, a reminder of the connection you’ve built with your community. You feel a sense of peace and contentment wash over you, knowing that you’ve created a space where everyone can come together, share, and simply be themselves.

Bakugou sat on his fire escape, the cool night air doing little to calm the heat simmering in his chest. His phone was propped up on his knee, earbuds snug in his ears, and his eyes glued to the screen where you were live, talking and interacting with your viewers. He wished it wasn’t just pixels. The way you moved, the way you smiled—it all felt so real, but also so far out of reach.

He hated it. Hated how he felt jealous of these random extras, these faceless usernames who got to see parts of you, even if it was just a sliver of your world. He clenched his jaw, trying to shake the feeling. It was crazy, irrational even, but the thought of sharing you with anyone made his blood boil. He wanted you all for himself. No sharing, no competing with anyone else for your attention.

The way you teased your viewers, that playful glint in your eye as you read their comments, only made it worse. Bakugou leaned forward, his grip on his phone tightening. The robe you were wearing had slipped just enough to show a hint of your bare shoulder, and the chat was going wild. He let out a frustrated breath, eyes narrowing as he caught sight of more tips rolling in, each one paired with comments that made his skin crawl.

“This is stupid,” he muttered to himself, though his eyes never left the screen. His thumb hovered over the button to close out the stream, to just shut it all down, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Instead, he scrolled down to the premium options, his heart hammering in his chest. He knew it was a line he shouldn’t cross, but he was already too far gone.

With a few taps, he purchased the beginner package, a part of him cursing himself for being so damn desperate. The screen flickered, and suddenly, he had access to some exclusive content—photos, videos, things you didn’t share with the general public.

The first thing he did was pull up one of the videos, the thumbnail alone making his breath hitch. You were sitting in that same plush bed, the one he had just seen live, but this time, you were holding the camera, your voice low and intimate as you spoke to whoever was watching. Him, now.

His mind raced as he watched, every word you said feeling like it was directed at him, like you knew exactly what he wanted to hear. The way you moved, the way you looked directly into the camera—it was all so personal, so intoxicatingly close, and yet still just out of his reach.

He could hear you asking the viewers questions, your voice soft and teasing, like you were right there beside him. You were brushing your teeth now, the mundane task somehow feeling so intimate, and Bakugou couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like to share those moments with you, to be the one in your space, not just another username in a chat.

When you held up that outfit—damn, that outfit—his breath caught in his throat. The chat was going wild, and he could feel his own heartbeat quicken as you laid the clothes out, teasing the viewers with a playful smirk. He could almost hear you in his head, taunting him with that same mischievous tone.

You were speaking again, responding to a question about why you chose such a risky outfit. “What do you think I do for work?” you teased, your eyes glinting with amusement.

Bakugou swallowed hard, his eyes locked on the screen. He could feel the heat rising in his chest again, that possessiveness creeping back in. How could these idiots not know? How could they not see what he saw?

He watched as you set up your phone, getting ready to climb into bed, the chat lighting up with compliments and guesses about your job. His eyes followed every movement, his mind racing with thoughts he couldn’t push away. The robe slipped up further, revealing the little white shorts you were wearing underneath, and the fact that you weren’t wearing a bra was painfully obvious now.

“Damn it,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair, his frustration mounting. You were so close, just within reach, and yet all he had were these damn videos and livestreams. It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.

He could feel his hands trembling as he adjusted his earbuds, his focus entirely on you now. The way you interacted with the chat, the way you responded to the endless stream of comments—it all felt so natural, so effortless. You were everything he didn’t know he wanted, and it was driving him insane.

But he couldn’t stop. Even as his mind screamed at him to shut it down, to stop torturing himself with something he could never have, he couldn’t tear his eyes away. He didn’t want to be just another viewer, another faceless fan. He wanted more, needed more.

As you settled into bed, adjusting your robe slipping just enough to tease, Bakugou’s heart raced. He didn’t care about the others watching, didn’t care about the chat or the tips. All he could think about was you, the way you looked, the way you spoke, the way you made him feel. And in that moment, he knew he was hooked.

But damn, did it make him feel like a fool.

You snuggle into your pillow, feeling its softness beneath your cheek as the chat continues to buzz with activity. Messages flood in, viewers asking all sorts of questions about your routine and your life.

xxPinkswirl: "Why don’t you have any plushies on your bed? You’d look so cute with them!"

The question catches you off guard. For a moment, a flicker of a memory—your ex cutting and burning your beloved stuffed animals—flashes through your mind. Fucking asshole couldn't stand not being the center of your attention. Anything that wasn't him, had to go. The fear of anything not plain has lingered, but you push the thought aside and smile at the camera.

“I just haven’t gotten around to it yet,” you say, voice light. “But I do love plushies!”

The chat explodes with comments, viewers finding your response adorable.

Yourmom69: "Aww, what kinds do you like?"

You giggled, your fingers playing with the edge of your robe. "Big, soft ones that I can really squeeze. Maybe something with a cute face that makes you just want to cuddle it all day." You were resting on your pillow again with your leg propped up.

StarGazer88: "We need to get you some plushies ASAP!"

Retrofan23: "Can we send you some? 😍"

FrightenedFae: I’ll be your plushie

Bakugou watches from his fire escape, a mix of emotions churning inside him. He feels a pang of embarrassment for wanting to keep you all to himself, even though he knows it’s irrational. The thought of others seeing this soft, intimate side of you drives him a little crazy. Without hesitation, he navigates to your shopping list, searching for a way to make your space feel more personal, more like home. But when he finds it empty, a surge of determination courses through him. He needs to ask you directly.

He buys some outfits you have on there, the extra cost barely registering in his mind as he clicks through your photos and videos, heart pounding with every new image. The way you move, the softness in your voice, even in these small moments, he’s captivated.

Back in your room, you notice a question from a username you don’t immediately recognize.

Spiceman420: “What kind of plushies do you want?”

You pause, a smile spreading across your face as you read the message. “Hmm, I think I’d love anything soft and cuddly—maybe a big bear. I need something cute and fluffy,” you reply, voice softening. “What about you all? What’s your favorite kind?”

The chat lights up again, and Bakugou leans back against the cool metal railing, his heart beating just a little faster as he imagines surprising you with something you’d love.

Yourmom69: "What’s your favorite comfort food?"

You stretched out, letting the soft bed cradle you as you thought about it. "Definitely mac and cheese," you replied with a playful smirk. "But it has to be the really cheesy kind, none of that watery stuff."

StarGazer88: "Are you into any video games?"

You rolled your eyes in a bratty manner. "Maybe, but only if they don’t waste my time," you teased, winking at the camera. "I get bored easily, so it better be worth it."

As you answered, Bakugou was leaning against the railing of his fire escape, tablet balanced on his knee, while his phone screen was filled with images of teddy bears. He kept scrolling, determined to find one that matched your description—something big, soft, and with an endearing little face.

Retrofan23: "Do you have any guilty pleasures?"

You bit your lip, pretending to ponder the question before answering. "Maybe," you said, dragging out the word. "But if I told you, it wouldn’t be a secret, would it?"

Bakugou’s heart skipped a beat as he watched you, his fingers still tapping away on his phone. He found a bear that seemed perfect—soft, huggable, and with an expression that almost screamed, “Cuddle me.” He paused, contemplating before sending a message to you.

FrightenedFae: "What’s your favorite time of year?"

You grinned, curling into the pillow a bit more. "Winter," you answered, your tone a bit softer. "I love the cold, cozy nights, hot cocoa, and the way everything feels a little more magical."

Total lie actually. You hated not celebrating because of that jerk. But you wanted to experience it like in the movies and TV shows that kept you company. Spring was always better because it meant that your depression was over and summer would be there soon to warm you up again.

Bakugou’s breath hitched as he readied himself to send the message. He was nervous—something that didn’t happen often, but this was different. You were different.

Spiceman420: Found something that might be your type. Mind if I send it your way?

He sent the message, his thumb hovering over the screen as if he could somehow will a response from you. Meanwhile, you were adjusting your phone, propping it against a pillow to get a better angle, unaware of the chaos you were causing in the chat.

Yourmom69: “I’m still caught up on the lack of plushies. I wanna see you surrounded by them!”

“Maybe I'll start a new collection soon.~"

As the chat exploded with suggestions, Bakugou’s phone buzzed with your reply. His eyes widened slightly, and his pulse quickened as he read your response, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He quickly started searching for the best way to get that bear to you, his mind filled with thoughts of how you’d react when you saw it. He could picture you holding it close, smiling—maybe even thinking of him when you did.

You laugh again, the sound light and genuine as you shake your head. "You guys are being too generous," you say, warmth seeping into your tone. "But fine, I’ll make a list. Just one plushie at a time, though! That way, no one gets left out."

As the chat continues to buzz with excitement, Bakugou leans back against the wall, his heart still racing. His hand grips his phone tightly, and he can’t help the small smirk tugging at his lips. Watching you smile at his gift, even through a screen, feels oddly fulfilling.

He glances at the time on his tablet, realizing how long he’s been watching, but he doesn’t care. For now, he’s content to stay right where he is, just a little closer to you, even if it’s through a screen.

You scan through the chat, eyes catching a message you’d somehow missed. "Oh no, did I miss something from Spiceman420 ?" you ask aloud, teasingly adding, "Go ahead, but it better not be anything weird!" You laugh softly, leaning back against your pillows, the light from your screen casting a soft glow over your face.

Meanwhile, Bakugou is sitting on the edge of his bed, his tablet propped up on a makeshift stand of books and a few old magazines. His fingers hover over his phone screen as he quickly types the link to a fluffy blond teddy bear he’d found, slamming it into the chat. The moment he hits send, his heart races, watching for your reaction.

Your screen lights up with the image of the teddy bear, and the chat immediately bursts into a chorus of oo’s and awe’s.

Yourmom69: That’s so cute!

StarGazer88: Awww, I love it!

Retrofan23: That bear’s got style.

FrightenedFae: It would be perfect for you!

You tilt your head slightly, inspecting the bear. "Okay, I have to admit, that’s really cute," you say, your voice softening. "I could use a little guy to cuddle with and keep me company.”

Bakugou’s lips twitch into a small smile as he sees your reaction. Without hesitating, he taps into his account and tips you enough to cover both the bear and its shipping. He feels a mix of satisfaction and a strange, unfamiliar warmth as he watches you consider his gift.

"Whoa, looks like Spiceman420 is really spoiling me tonight," you say with a playful lilt in your voice. "Thank you so much!" You glance at the growing number of comments scrolling up the screen.

Yourmom69: You’re so lucky!

StarGazer88: We need to get her more plushies you guys!

Retrofan23: Make a shopping list, we’ll cover it all!

FrightenedFae: Let us spoil you!

You felt a little panic rise into your chest at the idea of owning plushies again. But you could just keep them inside the room as props. That’s all they would be, props.

As you continue chatting with your viewers, a large tip notification pops up on your screen, nearly making you do a double-take. "$500?!" you exclaim, a mix of surprise and amusement in your voice. The accompanying message reads:

"Put on some lotion for us, please."

You raise an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at your lips. "You know, I can’t say no to that," you tease, your voice dropping to a sultry tone. The chat goes wild with excitement, the screen filling with heart emojis and messages encouraging you.

Meanwhile, Bakugou, who had been half-distracted by his own thoughts, immediately perks up, his vermillion eyes widening at the sudden turn of events. He sits up straighter, his jaw tightening slightly as he watches you on the screen. His eyebrows raise in surprise, but he can’t tear his gaze away.

You make a show of it, slowly walking over to your vanity and grabbing a bottle of lotion. "I guess you all want a little show, huh?" you say, your voice soft and teasing. The way you drag out your words only makes the anticipation grow, and you can see the chat explode with excitement.

Yourmom69: Damn ma, you sexy!!

StarGazer88: This is gonna be good!

Retrofan23: Can’t wait to see this!

FrightenedFae: I’m dying already!

You stand up and move gracefully back to your vanity, the soft light from your candles casting a warm, golden glow on your skin. Bakugou watches intently as you sit on the stool, positioning yourself just right for the camera. The robe you’re wearing shifts slightly, revealing a bit more of your thigh as you sit down, and you can almost hear the collective gasp from your audience.

As you pour a generous amount of lotion into your hands, you rub them together slowly, the sound of your hands moving against each other barely audible but strangely intimate. The way you start at your ankles, (you not showing your feet for free working the lotion into your skin with deliberate, sensual movements, has Bakugou leaning in closer to his screen. His eyes are locked on you, his heart pounding in his chest as he watches you slowly massage the lotion up your calves, over your knees, and then up your thighs.

His throat feels dry, and he swallows hard, trying to regain some semblance of composure. But it’s no use; he’s completely captivated by the sight of you. The soft, deliberate way you move, the way your fingers glide over your skin, it’s all too much. His breathing becomes shallow, his heart hammering as he watches you.

You glance up at the camera, your eyes meeting his through the screen, and he swears you can see him. The connection feels almost tangible, like you’re right there in the room with him. You tilt your head slightly, giving the camera a knowing look before standing up and moving behind a decorative divider.

The chat goes wild, messages flying in faster than you can read them.

Yourmom69: OMG, this is everything!

StarGazer88: She’s killing me!

Retrofan23: I wanna bite into those calves!

FrightenedFae: I’m gonna die from your beauty!!

You drape the robe over the divider, leaving you only in those tiny white shorts. Bakugou’s eyes narrow as he tries to catch a glimpse of you beyond the screen. He can feel his body tense up, his fists clenching and unclenching as he imagines what you’re doing just out of view. The way you casually reach for more lotion, the sound of your skin rubbing against the fabric, it’s all driving him crazy.

When you pick up your rob and finally emerge from behind the divider, your skin glistening, the chat erupts once again. The tips flood in, and you can’t help but smile at the overwhelming response.

Yourmom69: She’s glowing!

StarGazer88: I can’t breathe!!

GoldenSunset: Take all my money!

FrightenedFae: I’m dead.

Bakugou’s eyes stay locked on you as you move back to the bed, every movement slow and deliberate. The robe has slipped off one of your shoulders again, revealing just enough skin to make his pulse quicken. He’s never felt like this before, never been so captivated by someone, and it frustrates him how much he wants you.

His fingers tremble slightly as he picks up his phone, the desire to send you another message, another tip, burning in the back of his mind. He wants to be the one to spoil you, to have your attention, but he also wants more than just this screen between you.

As you settle back onto your bed, snuggling into your pillow, Bakugou feels a pang of jealousy. All these other viewers get to see this side of you, but he wants more. He wants to know you, to hold you, to be the one who makes you smile like that.

He watches as you respond to the chat, your voice soft and teasing, your eyes sparkling with mischief. His heart aches with the realization that he’s falling for you, but for now, he’s content to just watch, to soak in every moment, and to dream of the day when he might have more than just pixels between you.

Bakugou blinked, realizing the time displayed on his tablet—1:00 AM. The fatigue was heavy in his body, but sleep still eluded him. He rubbed a hand over his face, feeling the exhaustion tugging at him, but his mind was still racing, filled with thoughts of you.

Would you take a request without him sending any money? The idea felt ridiculous. He clenched his jaw, feeling the knots in his stomach tighten. Bakugou wasn't one to ask for favors, much less from someone he barely knew, but the thought nagged at him, refusing to let go. Before he could overthink it, he typed out a simple message and hit send, his heart pounding in his chest.

Back on your end, you were just getting settled back into your bed, the soft pillows cradling your head as you answered a few more questions from the chat. The tips had slowed down a bit, and the energy was starting to wind down as everyone began to relax with you. Your eyes skimmed over the messages, a soft smile playing on your lips as you responded.

The chat is alive with comments and questions, but one message catches your eye.

Spiceman420: "I can't sleep. Can you help?"

Your heart goes out to the person behind the username. You understand what it feels like to struggle with sleep, especially when your mind won’t quiet down. You smile softly at the camera, your expression sympathetic.

"Oh, I’m sorry to hear that you can’t sleep, Spiceman420," you say gently. "What can I do to help you out?"

The chat buzzes with activity as you wait for his response, your eyes scanning the messages flying in.

Yourmom69 : Aww, how sweet! LunarDreamer : She’s such a caring person! Retrofan23 : Maybe a bedtime story? FrightenedFae: Some soft music, maybe?

You glance back at the screen, waiting for Spiceman420 to reply, genuinely wanting to help him relax and find some peace.

On the other side of the screen, Bakugou feels his heart rate spike. He hadn’t expected you to notice his message so quickly, let alone respond so kindly. He takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself, and types out his request, hoping it isn’t too much to ask.

Your eyes light up as you see his next message pop up.

Spiceman420: "Could you maybe just talk for a bit? About anything."

You nod, a soft smile playing on your lips. "Of course, I can do that. Sometimes just hearing someone’s voice can be really soothing." You adjust your position on the bed, making yourself comfortable, and begin to speak, your voice gentle and calming.

"I’ll tell you about my day then," you start, settling in. "My bestie and I spent hours putting together some new furniture for my bedroom. It’s looking really cute now. I tried cooking some stir fry but ended up setting off the smoke alarm."

As you continue talking, you notice the chat reacting positively, your viewers appreciating the more personal glimpse into your life.

Bakugou leans back against his bed, his eyes closing as he listens to you. Your voice is soothing, a gentle lull that begins to ease the tension in his body. He can almost picture the room you’re describing, imagining the warmth and comfort of it.

You keep going, answering a few more questions from your viewers, occasionally glancing at the screen to see the messages coming in.

Yourmom69 : That sounds lovely! StarGazer88 : Can we see the room again sometime? Retrofan23 : I bet it looks amazing! FrightenedFae: I love pink sheets!

You smile, feeling a sense of connection with your audience. "Maybe I’ll do a room tour tomorrow," you say playfully. "But for now, let’s just relax together. Is there anything else you’d like to hear about, Spiceman420?"

You wait for his response, genuinely wanting to help him feel at ease, your voice continuing to be a soothing presence in the night. The chat immediately responded with supportive comments.

Yourmom69 : That’s so sweet of you! StarGazer88 : I love this idea! Retrofan23 : Spiceman’s lucky! VelvetRose: You’re such a sweetheart, helping everyone like this.

As you waited for Spiceman420’s response, you adjusted your robe, pulling it a bit tighter around you for comfort. The soft glow from the candles cast a warm light across your room, making the pink bedsheets look even more inviting. You shifted slightly on your bed, the plush mattress sinking just enough to cradle you comfortably.

Meanwhile, Bakugou was staring at his tablet, his heart thudding in his chest. He hadn't expected you to respond so quickly, or with so much warmth. He bit his lip, his fingers hovering over the screen as he considered what to say. Before he could overthink it, he typed a simple, “Whatever works for you” and hit send. He set his phone down on his lap, his leg bouncing slightly with restless energy as he waited.

Your eyes flicked to the screen, catching his response. A soft smile curled on your lips. "Alright, Spiceman," you said gently, your voice warm and soothing. "Let’s see what we can do."

Before you could continue, another notification pinged in the chat.

FrightenedFae just tipped $700.

Your eyes widened slightly, not at the amount—though it was generous—but at the message that came with it:

"Can you talk like it’s a girlfriend audio? Something to help us all wind down?"

You glanced at the camera, a thoughtful look on your face. This wasn’t an uncommon request, but it was always a bit different depending on the person. You wanted to make sure Spiceman420 was comfortable with it, given the situation.

"Wow, thank you so much, FrightenedFae," you said, your voice genuine. "That’s really generous of you. I’ll definitely do that, but I want to make sure it's okay with Spiceman first." You looked directly into the camera, your expression softening. "Spiceman, would that be alright with you?"

Bakugou stared at the screen, feeling a strange mix of emotions. This wasn’t what he’d expected, but he found himself typing, "Yeah, go ahead."

He didn’t know why he was letting himself get so wrapped up in this, but there was something about your voice, your presence, that made him feel… calmer, more centered.

Seeing his response, you nodded. “Alright then, let’s do this.” You adjusted your position on the bed, reclining back against the pillows, and let your voice drop into a lower, smoother tone. There was a slight rasp to it, a warm, comforting quality that made it feel like you were right there beside him. It wasn’t sexual, but there was an intimacy to it that felt personal, genuine.

“Hey,” you began, your voice soft and soothing. “I know it’s late, and you’re probably feeling pretty tired, maybe even a little restless. But that’s okay. We’re gonna wind down together, alright? Just take a deep breath for me… and let it out slowly.” You inhaled and exhaled, bust moving with your gentle breaths.

Bakugou’s eyes widened, his breath hitching in his throat. He found himself unconsciously following your instructions, taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly, his body already beginning to relax.

“Now,” you continued, “before you get too comfy, make sure you’ve got everything you need for the night. Did you drink some water? Maybe grab a little snack, something light. I don’t want you to go to bed hungry. And if you haven’t brushed your teeth yet, now’s a good time to do that too. Just take care of yourself, okay?”

The chat was going to kill your phone again.

Yourmom69 : I’m getting up right now, queen! StarGazer88 : You’re too good to us! Retrofan23 : I don’t wanna leave my bed, but I’ll do it for you! FrightenedFae: This is exactly what I needed tonight, thank you!

Bakugou’s mind was spinning. He felt ridiculous for actually considering getting up, but your voice had a way of making him want to do what you said. He let out a soft, resigned groan and pushed himself up from the bed. Grabbing a granola bar from his kitchen, he unwrapped it and took a bite, chewing slowly as he continued listening to you.

“Good job,” you praised, your voice dripping with warmth and encouragement. “Now, when you’re ready, get yourself back to bed. Make sure you’re comfortable, get under those covers, and just let your body relax. You’ve done everything you needed to today. It’s time to let yourself rest.”

Fuck it was like you could see him.

Bakugou finished the granola bar and downed a glass of water, feeling oddly obedient as he brushed his teeth. He didn’t even know why he was listening to you, but something about the way you spoke made it easy to just… go along with it. Maybe if he tricked his body into following your advice, he’d finally be able to sleep.

As he climbed back into bed, he pulled his tablet closer, your stream still playing as he settled in. The tension in his chest had lessened, and for the first time that night, he felt like maybe, just maybe, sleep might actually come.

As you continued, fully embracing the role of a comforting presence, Bakugou found himself removing his shirt, the cool air brushing against his skin as he settled back into bed. He watched you intently, your voice still playing through his tablet as you lay down, adjusting the camera to a more intimate angle.

The chat was buzzing with questions, the most popular one catching your eye:

StarGazer88: Do you prefer to sleep with or without clothes?

A sly smile crossed your lips as you considered the question, your eyes glancing at the camera. "Without, if I'm being honest," you admitted with a playful tone. "But it really just depends on the night. I love sleeping with the fan on, so sometimes it can get pretty cold."

You gave the camera a knowing look before slipping off the bed, disappearing for a moment. The chat was alive with speculation, everyone trying to guess what you were up to. Bakugou leaned closer to his screen, his brows furrowing in curiosity.

When you returned, the sight made Bakugou almost sit up so quickly that he nearly hit his head on the bedframe. You were wearing an oversized "Ground Zero" t-shirt, the black fabric swallowing your frame, the iconic hero logo printed across your chest. It hung loosely on you, the hem almost reaching your thighs.

Bakugou’s heart skipped a beat. That shirt—his shirt—on you? It was like a punch to his gut, but in the best way possible. Seeing you wear something with his brand, something that represented him, made him feel something he hadn’t expected—possessiveness mixed with a strange, warm pride.

The chat erupted with excitement.

Yourmom69 : OMG that shirt is so cute on you! FrightenedFae : Look at that merch! Represent! Retrofan23 : Where can we get that shirt?! StarGazer88: Ground Zero fan confirmed!! 😍

You smiled sweetly at the comments, clearly enjoying the reaction. "It’s one of my favorites," you confessed, adjusting the shirt slightly as you crawled back onto your bed. "So comfy. And it’s perfect for nights like this."

Bakugou couldn’t tear his eyes away from you. Seeing you all dolled up at the club had been one thing, but this—this was different. It was intimate, personal. You looked so relaxed, so natural in his shirt, and it did something to him. He felt like he was seeing a side of you that no one else got to see, a softer, sweeter version that was a stark contrast to the poised, alluring figure you presented at the club.

You settled down onto the bed, placing your phone next to your pillow. Your voice dropped to a soft, soothing tone as you began to hum a quiet melody, something gentle and comforting. "You all are so sweet," you murmured, the warmth in your voice palpable. "Thank you so much for being here with me tonight, for all your tips, your kind words… I really appreciate it. Make sure to join me tomorrow, okay?"

Bakugou’s breath hitched as he watched you, his eyes glued to the screen. That shirt looked so oversized on you, making you seem so much smaller, so much more… his. He knew it was crazy, that it was just a piece of clothing, but seeing you in it felt like a special treat, a glimpse into something more personal.

He barely noticed the time slipping by, so captivated by the sight of you snuggled into your bed, wearing his merch, humming softly as if you were already half-asleep. It was so different from your usual stream persona—this was you, in your element, in your space. And for Bakugou, that made all the difference.

He clenched his fists, trying to steady the chaotic mix of emotions swirling inside him. There was something about this moment that made him want to be the only one watching, the only one who got to see you like this. It was irrational, possessive, but he couldn’t help it.

For now, though, he just let himself enjoy the sight of you in his shirt, knowing that this was something special—something he wanted to keep close, just for himself.

You continued to hum softly, your voice a gentle lullaby, Bakugou’s eyes grew heavier with each passing moment. He barely noticed the time slipping by as he lay back against his pillow, the cool night air from the open window brushing against his skin. The sound of your voice, warm and soothing, wrapped around him like a comforting blanket, lulling him into a peaceful state he hadn’t felt in a long time.

His tablet rested on his chest, the screen dimming as the stream continued. More than half the viewers had already given their final tips, sending heart emojis and sweet messages before quietly exiting the stream, thinking you were on the verge of sleep. Bakugou’s breath slowed, his eyes fluttering shut as your soft words continued to echo in his mind.

“Thank you for being here with me tonight,” you whispered, your voice barely audible now, like a quiet breeze. “Sleep well, everyone.”

Those last words drifted through his mind as he finally succumbed to his exhaustion. His breathing evened out, the tension in his body melting away as he drifted into sleep, your voice still playing softly in the background.

But what Bakugou didn’t see—what none of the remaining viewers saw—was the shadowed figure that appeared behind you. As you lay still on your bed, seemingly asleep, the figure leaned over, careful and deliberate. A hand reached out, gently grabbing your phone from the pillow.

The stream abruptly ended.

The screen on Bakugou’s tablet turned black, signaling the end of the broadcast. But he was already deep in sleep, oblivious to what had just happened, lost in a dream where your voice was the only thing that mattered.

In the dark room, the figure stepped back, the phone in hand, as the glow from the screen faded into nothingness.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Taglist: @elarakive, @thealtofvalleyxdoodles, the-dumpster-fire-of-life, @raendarkfaerie If you wanna be added lemme know!

Chapter 1 is here Chapter 2 is here.

Chapter 3 is here

That was the first chapter! So far there are 9 posted on my ao3 account.

I own none of the images or art!!!

Be sure to check out my other works and leave likes and comments, they really help. I have a Farmer Bakugou x Gardener Reader here in the master list. Drop a follow as well if you please. Don’t be shy to leave me a little reblog if you want.

I promise I bite~

See you soon my loves!!

(｡･ω･｡)ﾉ♡

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alpineshift · 3 months

Note

I wanna join in on the fun if you're still up for it!

How about...

15. “I can’t believe you remembered.”

I don't really have a theme or 'verse in mind. Maybe the corporate emails one or the professors one or the one where they're married and then they're exes and Nico is Jack's emergency contact. Or anything that your heart desires.

My heart desires jacknico signs of life LOL jk jk thank you for sending a prompt in!! this would fit so well in the exes universe imo 🥹 (from the thank you for coming anyway verse)

15. “I can’t believe you remembered.”

The All Star Festival was only supposed to be a three-day weekend thing; arriving Friday for social stuff and set up, Captains a supporting act on Saturday and headlining Sunday, and then back to home base. Quinn was supposed to rescue him from the awkward roomie situation he's got with his ex-husband right now.

Jack may or may not still be kinda salty Nico's babysitting him over a tiny whack to the head. Understatement, the Luke-voice in his brain scolds.

But not that it's necessarily awkward, to be honest. Maybe just...quiet. Low-key. Old habits, new location. Same person, different interactions.

That's the part that surprises Jack the most, and still catches him off guard. The way he and Nico manage to fall into a routine, filling the gaps in each other's everyday tasks, moving in perfect tandem. Jack figuring out how Nico stocks his groceries now with ease, Nico arranging food on the table the way he knows Jack likes.

(What does that mean for them? Is that supposed to mean anything at all? What if Jack wants it to? Does Nico want that too?)

It's driving Jack slowly crazy, remnants of his concussion notwithstanding. But! At least he'll be free from this limbo soon, once his brothers fly back and see that he's actually fine and lets him go home.

And then the storm hits.

Strong winds, heavy rain, possibility of hail, and low-to-zero visibility conditions. All flights grounded. Dark clouds rolling in from the west coast, travelling absurdly fast over the central states overnight, and landing heavy on them on the other side of the continent.

Obviously Jack doesn't want the band and the crew flying home in that. Obviously he's telling them to take shelter and to keep an eye on Trevor, who's a twig and could get blown away.

Fuck you too, Jack, Trevor texts back in the group chat.

"Guess you're stuck here for a little while longer," Nico says quietly, staring at the rain that's already pelting down on the windows. Ever the organized guy, he's got candles and lighters and flashlights already set out, charged up a few extra power banks and filled up an extra container of water.

Jack watches his ex-husband watching the rain, and tries not to read too much into the way Nico simply lets him stay, and his own inexplicable feelings of relief and delight over it.

And then the thunder starts.

Jack hates thunderstorms. Hates them with a passion, hates the way the thunder shakes the floorboards beneath him, the way lightning flashes across the sky and throws creepy shadows all over the room. Hates the hair-raising way the noise rattles his whole body.

He stumbles out of the guest room, disheveled, not exactly sure where he's going in the dark apartment, and runs smack into Nico's (very shirtless) chest.

Nico catches him by the shoulders. "Hey, hey, easy--it's just me. Are you alright?"

"I'mfineI'mdoinggreat," Jack word vomits out, and he can see the way Nico immediately frowns.

"You're not," his ex-husband says, only matter-of-factly, not rudely, and he redirects Jack to the couch. Turns a lamp on, the lowest setting, and drapes one of the big fluffy blankets over Jack's shoulders. Then he goes into the kitchen and pulls out a bunch of stuff from the cupboards: two enormous mugs. Packets of chamomile tea. Organic honey. Two tiny sprigs of mint. One toasty-hot drink fixed up in record time and deposited in Jack's hands while Nico takes the seat opposite him.

"It's okay, Jack," he says softly. "The storm will pass. Just drink your tea. I've even got disposable ear plugs if it gets really loud."

In spite of all his experience crafting award-winning lyrics, the only thing Jack could stammer out is, "You--You made my mom's go-to tea combo for me."

"Yes...?" Nico says, confused. "It's the only thing you want during a storm. You told me before."

"I--I know I did. But you...remembered. I can't believe you remembered."

Lightning flashes again and thunder rumbles above them, but Jack only has eyes for Nico. Nico, who sighs very softly, fiddles with his mug, and meets his gaze sadly.

"You say that as if I could ever forget a single thing about you, Jack."

#🙂#lol me screaming at myself with my mouth shut #this was definitely fun tho thank uuu #asks #imperatorrrrr #prompt fills

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cielrouge · 2 years

Photo

2022 YA Reads by Authors of Color

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A Girl’s Guide to Love & Magic by Debbie Rigaud: 15-year-old Haitian American Cicely is excited to celebrate the West Indian Day Parade with her aunt, and voodoo dabbler, Mimose, but when Mimose's dabbling goes awry and she becomes possessed by a spirit, Cicely, Renee, and Kwame, her crush, must find a way to set things right.

Godslayers (Gearbreakers #2) by Zoe Hana Mikuta: Eris and Sona are pitted against each other in the ongoing war between Godolia and the Badlands.

Great or Nothing by Caroline Tung Richmond & Joy McCullough & Tess Sharpe & Jessica Spotwood: A reimagining of Little Women set in the spring of 1942, when the United States is suddenly embroiled in the second World War, this story, told from each March sister's point of view, is one of grief, love, and self-discovery.

Heartbreak Symphony by Laekan Zea Kemp: When Aarón Medrano and Mia Villanueva cross paths, Aarón sees a chance to get close to the girl he’s had a crush on for years and to finally feel connected to someone since losing his mother. Mia sees a chance to hold herself accountable by making them both face their fears. But soon they’ll realize there’s something much scarier than getting up on stage—falling in love with a broken heart.

Her Rebel Highness by Diana Ma (Daughters of the Dynasty #2): High school senior Lei unexpectedly finds love amid the student protests in Beijing in 1989, forcing her to choose between her family and its legacy or her future with a revolutionary leader.

High Spirits by Camille Gomera Tavarez: a collection of eleven interconnected short stories from the Dominican diaspora, centered on one extended family, the Beléns, across multiple generations.

Hollow Fires by Samira Ahmed: After discovering the body of 14-year-old Jawad Ali in Jackson Park, 17-year-old journalism student Safiya Mirza begins investigating his murder and ends up confronting white supremacy in her own high school.

How Maya Got Fierce by Sonia Charaipotra: When her dream of working at Fierce, a popular magazine, comes true, 17-year-old Maya Gera gets the scoop on a huge story, but wonders how long she can keep up the charade of being older than she really is

How to Date a Superhero by Cristina Fernandez: When Astrid discovers that her boyfriend is a superhero, she must learn how to survive their relationship, college life, and figuring out who she is.

How to Live Without You by Sarah Everett: 17-year-old Emmy returns home for the summer to uncover the truth behind her sister Rose’s disappearance—only to learn that Rose had many secrets, ones that have Emmy questioning herself and the sister Emmy thought she knew

How to Succeed in Witchcraft by Aislinn Brophy: Half-Black witch Shay Johnson is cast as the lead in her school musical and must decide between exposing her predatory drama teacher and getting the scholarship she desperately needs.

How You Grow Wings by Rimma Onoseta: Sisters Cheta and Zam's paths to break free of their oppressive home diverge wildly--one moves into an aunt's luxurious home and the other struggles to survive on her wits alone--and when they finally reunite, Zam realizes how far Cheta has fallen, leaving Cheta's fate in Zam's hands.

I Guess I Live Here Now by Claire Ahn: Korean-American teen Melody Lee is uprooted from her life in Manhattan and relocated to her father's villa in Seoul, plunges into a whirlwind of culture shock and family secrets as she struggles to reconcile her identity in a place she's supposed to call home.

I Rise by Marie Arnold: 14-year-old Ayo has to decide whether to take on her mother's activist role when her mom is shot by police. As she tries to find answers, Ayo looks to the wisdom of her ancestors and her Harlem community for guidance.

If You Could See the Sun by Ann Liang: Alice Sun, upon discovering she can no longer afford tuition at her elite Beijing boarding school, teams up with her academic rival Henry Li and monetizes her strange new invisibility powers by discovering and selling her wealthy classmates' most scandalous secrets.

If You Still Recognize Me by Cynthia So: Elsie has a crush on Ada, the only person in the world who truly understands her. Unfortunately, they've never met in real life. But Elsie has decided it's now or never to tell Ada how she feels. That is, until her long-lost best friend Joan walks back into her life.In a summer of repairing broken connections and building surprising new ones, Elsie realizes that she isn't nearly as alone as she thought.

In Every Generation by Kendare Blake: Follow the next generation of Scoobies and Slayers who must defeat a powerful new evil.

Inheritance: A Visual Poem by Elizabeth Acevedo: In her most famous spoken-word poem, author of the Pura Belpr-winning novel-in-verse The Poet X Elizabeth Acevedo embraces all the complexities of Black hair and Afro-Latinidad--the history, pain, pride, and powerful love of that inheritance.

The Iron Sword by Julie Kagawa: Prince Ash achieved the impossible and journeyed to the End of the World to earn a soul and keep his vow to always stand beside Queen Meghan of the Iron Fey. Now he faces even more incomprehensible odds. Their son, King Keirran of the Forgotten, is missing.

It Sounds Like This by Anna Meriano: A sweet and nerdy contemporary YA novel set in the world of marching band.

The Ivory Key by Akshaya Raman: Four estranged royal siblings, each harboring secrets and conflicting agendas, must learn to work together as they search for the Ivory Key, which will lead to a new source of magic.

Just Your Local Bisexual Disaster by Andrea Mosqueda: Following a self-described romantic disaster living in the Rio Grande Valley, bisexual Chicana Maggie Gonzalez tries to figure out whom she wants to ask to be her escort at her little sister's upcoming quinceanera: her charming ex-boyfriend twice over, her first crush and gorgeous best friend, or the mysterious new girl with the romantic baggage?

The Kindred by Alechia Dow: A royal, Duke Felix Hamdi and a commoner, Joy Abara, mistakenly mind-paired at birth, land on Earth after fleeing royal assassins, only to find the "developing" planet might hold the solutions to their divided and unjust lives back home.

Kings of B’more by R. Eric Thomas: Set in Baltimore, a celebration of queer Black friendship as two boys, Harrison and Linus, plan a day of fun and facing their fears.

Kiss & Tell by Adib Khorram: On Kiss & Tell's first major tour, lead singer Hunter Drake grapples with a painful breakup with his first boyfriend, his first rebound, and the stress of what it means to be queer in the public eye.

K-Pop Revolution (K-Pop Confidential #2) by Stephan Lee: She thought that debuting in a K-pop band was the finish line, but it was only the beginning. Because now it's not only Candace Park’s company judging her--it's the entire world. How will she find the courage to stand by her beliefs, even when powerful forces are trying to shame and silence her?

Lakelore by Anna-Marie McLemore: Two non-binary teens, Bastián Silvano and Lore Garcia, are pulled into a magical world under a lake - but can they keep their worlds above water intact?

Lark & Kasim Start a Revolution by Kacen Callender: 17-year-old nurodivergent and nonbinary Lark pretends that they are the creator of a viral thread that their ex-best friend, Kasim, accidentally posted onto their Twitter account, declaring his unrequited love, but living a lie takes its toll on Lark, forcing them to deal with their own messy emotions.

The Lesbiana’s Guide to Catholic School by Sonora Reyes: 16-year-old Mexican American Yami Flores starts Catholic school, determined to keep her brother out of trouble and keep herself closeted, but her priorities shift when Yami discovers that her openly gay classmate Bo is also annoyingly cute.

The Lies We Tell by Katie Zhao: During her freshman year at college, Anna Xu investigates the unsolved on-campus murder of her former babysitter, as she and an old rival have to team up to look into the hate crimes happening around campus.

The Loophole by Naz Kutub: Sy, a 17-year-old queer Indian-Muslim boy, travels the world for a second chance at love after a possibly magical heiress grants him three wishes.

The Lost Dreamer by Lizz Huerta: In this fantasy inspired by ancient Mesoamerica, a lineage of seers defiantly resists the shifting patriarchal state that would see them destroyed.

Love, Decoded by Jennifer Yen: In this contemporary NYC-set retelling of Emma, high school junior Gigi Wong is determined to be picked for a contest that could lead to an exclusive tech internship, but when her matchmaking app goes viral Gigi must deal with the unexpected consequences of helping her friends find love.

Love From Mecca to Medina by S.K. Ali: Adam and Zayneb embark on the Umrah, a pilgrimage to Mecca and Medina, in Saudi Arabia, but as one wedge after another drives them apart while they make their way through rites in the holy city, Adam and Zayneb start to wonder if their meeting was just an oddity after all.

Love Radio by Ebony LaDelle: Clever teen DJ Prince Jones, always full of love advice for his friends and classmates meets his match in Dani Ford, who is an anti-romance and would rather be preparing to be the next great novelist.

Love Times Infinity by Lane Clarke: 16-year-old Michie is busy with big dreams for college and the biggest crush on the school's new basketball superstar, Derek de la Rosa—but when her estranged mother suddenly reappears in her life, she faces important questions about the chances she's willing to take on herself and her future,

Loveboat Reunion (Loveboat #2) by Abigail Hing Wen: Sophie Ha and Xavier Yeh find themselves on a wild, nonstop Loveboat reunion, hatching a joint plan to take control of their futures. Can they succeed together or are they destined to combust?

Lulu and Milagro’s Search for Clarity by Angela Velez: Two sisters become begrudging partners on their school's cross-country field trip to college campuses as they uncover family secrets, confront weighty expectations for their futures, and discover the true meaning of sisterhood.

The Man or the Monster by Aamna Qureshi: Durkhanai Miangul sealed her lover’s fate when she sent him through a door where either a lady or a lion awaited him. But Durkhanai’s decision was only the beginning of her troubles. Her presumed-dead father comes back with a vengeance, but her family’s denial of his revenge forces Durkhanai to take matters into her own hands.

A Magic Steeped in Poison by Judy Lin: Ning enters a cutthroat magical competition to find the kingdom's greatest master of the art of brewing tea, but political schemes and secrets make her goal of gaining access to royal physicians to cure her dying sister far more dangerous than she imagined.

A Venom Dark and Sweet (The Book of Tea #2) by Judy Lin: A great evil has come to the kingdom of Dàxi. The Banished Prince has returned to seize power and Ning has escorted Princess Zhen into exile. Joining them is the princess' loyal bodyguard, Ruyi, and Ning's newly healed sister, Shu. Together the four young women travel throughout the kingdom in search of allies to help oust the invaders and take back Zhen's rightful throne.

Meet Me in Mumbai by Sabina Khan: A novel in two acts, told 18 years apart; in the first, teenage mother Ayesha grapples with the decision whether to place her daughter Mira for adoption; in the second, her daughter wonders what she will find after discovering an old letter from her birth mother asking to meet in Mumbai on her 18th birthday.

Master of Souls (Kingdom of Souls #3) by Rena Barron: Arrah must decipher the legacy of her past and weave an uneasy alliance between her beloved Rudjek, the Demon King, and the remaining orishas, hoping to restore peace.

The Merciless Ones by Namina Forna: It's been 6 months since Deka freed the goddesses in the ancient kingdom of Otera and discovered who she really is. Yet hidden secrets threaten to destroy everything Deka has known. And with her own gifts changing, Deka must discover if she holds the key to saving Otera or if she might be its greatest threat.

A Million to One by Adiba Jaigirdar: An acrobat, an actress, an artist, and a thief, four girls who seemingly have nothing in common, work together and plot a heist to steal the Rubaiyat off the Titanic.

Monsters Born and Made by Tanvi Berwan: 16-year-old Korwal, from a family of sea-monster trainers, sacrifices everything to be the first of her caste to compete in a monstrous chariot race in an effort to save her sister's life.

Murder of Crows by K. Ancrum: Tig Torres investigates Hollow Falls' horrific history in this original novel based on the hit podcast Lethal Lit.

My Mechanical Romance by Alexene Farol Follmuth: High school senior Bel Maier has an aptitude for engineering and teams up with robotics team captain, Mateo Luna, but after a rough start together the nights of after-school work lead to romance.

My Sister’s Big Fat Indian Wedding by Sajni Patel: 17-year-old aspiring violinist Zurika Damani must secretly juggle the obligations of her sister's extravagant wedding week with auditions for a prominent music competition—all while trying to dodge her boisterous family's matchmaking scheme with the groom’s South African cousin Naveen—who just happens to be a cocky vocalist set on stealing Zuri’s spotlight at the scouting competition.

The New Girl by Jesse Q. Sutanto: A transfer student and scholarship recipient, sophomore Lia Setiawan is angered when she discovers a cheating ring, but by the time she finds a dead body and shuts down the campus drug dealer, she fears she might be the biggest snake in the Draycott Academy nest of vipers.

Night of the Raven, Queen of the Dove by Rati Mehrotra: After a bloody palace uprising, Katyani, a young guardswoman to the royal family, discovers she is not who she thought she was and becomes a major pawn in the political games of a monster-filled land on the brink of war.

The Noh Family by Grace K. Shim: Chloe Chang travels to Seoul to meet her deceased father's ultra-rich family, but she soon begins to wonder if her new family's intentions are pure.

Nothing Burns As Bright as You by Ashley Woodfolk: A novel-in-verse that tells the story of a tumultuous romance between two queer girls in nonlinear chapters, anchored by a single day where they set a fire and their relationship spirals out of control.

Nubia: The Awakening by Omar Epps & Clarence A. Haynes: In a climate-ravaged New York deeply divided by class, Zuberi, Uzochi, and Lencho, three teens of refugees from a fallen African utopia, begin to develop supernatural powers.

Okoye to the People by Ibi Zoboi: Okoye is a new recruit for T'Chaka's royal guard: the Dora Milaje. But when Okoye is sent on her very first mission—to America—she'll learn that her status as a Dora means nothing to New Yorkers and her expectations for the world outside of her own quickly fall apart.Caught between duty to her country and listening to her own heart, Okoye must find her own way and determine the type of Dora Milaje—and woman—she wants to be.

Once Upon a K-Prom by Kat Cho: Instead of going to prom, 17-year-old Elena Soo wants to spend her time saving the local community center, and she is determined to keep her priorities straight even when her childhood best friend Robbie Choi--who is now a K-pop superstar--returns to make good on their old pact to go to prom together.

One True Loves (Happily Ever Afters #2) by Elise Bryant: While on a post-graduation Mediterranean cruise with her family, Lenore Bennett meets a hopeless romantic with a ten-year plan who helps her find something she's been looking for--love.

Only a Monster by Vanessa Len: Set in contemporary London, in which a 16-yer-old half-monster Joan must embrace her own monstrousness to stop the boy she loves, who turns out to be a legendary monster slayer, from killing everyone she cares about.

Only On The Weekends by Dean Atta: A romantic coming-of-age novel in verse about the beautiful--and sometimes painful--fallout of pursuing the love we deserve.

Ophelia After All by Racquel Marie: 17-year-old Ophelia Rojas, well known for her rose garden and her dramatic crushes on every boy in sight, begins to question her sexuality and sense of self when she starts to fall for cute, quiet Talia Sanchez in the weeks leading up to their prom and graduation.

The Other Side of the Tracks by Charity Alyse: In the racially divided towns of Bayside and Hamilton, Zach Whitman moves in and befriends Black siblings Capri and Justin Collins, until one of their friends is murdered by police, and the longstanding feud between the towns erupts into an all-out war, with the three caught in the middle.

Our Shadows Have Claws: 15 Latin American Monster Stories edited by Yamile Mendez & Amparo Ortiz: 15 original short stories from YA superstars featuring the monsters of Latine myths and legends.

Pixels of You by Ananth Hirsh & Yuko Ota: In a near future New York City of cyber augmentation and artificial intelligence, Indira and Fawn, two competitive interns in an art gallery, work together on a photography project, turning a rivalry into a friendship and perhaps something more.

Private Label by Kelly Yang: Chinese American Serene who gets help from the new boy in town, Lian Chen, to search for her dad after her successful fashion designer mother is diagnosed with cancer.

Queen of the Tiles by Hanna Alkaf: 15-year-old Najwa Bakri is forced to investigate the mysterious death of her best friend and Scrabble Queen, Trina, a year after the fact when her Instagram comes back to life with cryptic posts and messages.

Rebel Skies by Ann Sei Lin: Kurara has never known any other life than being a servant on board the Midori, but when her party trick of making paper come to life turns out to be a power treasured across the empire, she joins a skyship and its motley crew to become a Crafter. Taught by the gruff but wise Himura, Kurara learns to hunt shikigami - wild paper spirits who are sought after by the Princess. But are these creatures just powerful slaves for the Crafters and the empire, or are they beings with their own souls - and yet another thing to be subjugated by the powerful Emperor and his Princess?

Reclaim the Stars: 17 Tales Across Realms & Space edited by Zoraida Cordova: In this collection of stories by acclaimed young adult authors the Latin American diaspora travels to places of fantasy and out into space.

The Red Palace by June Hur: Set in 1700s Joseon Korea, while investigating a series of grisly murders, 18-year-old palace nurse Hyeon navigates royal and political intrigue and becomes entangled with a young police inspector.

Required Reading for the Disenfranchised Freshman by Kristen R. Lee: Upon arriving at the prestigious Wooddale University, 17-year-old Savannah Howard comes face-to-face with microaggressions and outright racism--but if she stands up for justice, will she endanger her future?

Right Where I Left You by Julian Winters: The summer before he leaves for college, 18-year-old Isaac Martin makes big plans with his best friend Diego that only the reappearance of an old crush can derail.

Road of the Lost by Nafiza Azad: Croi is compelled by a summoning spell leave her home in the Wilde Forest and travel into the Otherworld, where the enchantment that made her into a brownie begins to break, revealing her true identity, her hidden magick, and her forgotten heritage.

The Rumor Game by Dhonielle Clayton & Sona Charaipotra: At Foxham Prep, a posh private school for Washington, D.C.'s elite, a rumor gains momentum as it collects followers on social media, pulling three girls into its path--Bryn, who wants to erase all memories of the mistake she made last summer; cheer captain Cora, who desperately wants to believe in her boyfriend's faithfulness; and shy Georgie, newly hot after a summer at fat camp and ready to reinvent herself--but who can stop a dangerous rumor once it takes on a life of its own?

Rust in the Root by Justina Ireland: It is 1937, and Laura Ann Langston lives in an America divided—between those who work the mystical arts and those who do not. In New York City, she embarks on a mission with Skylark, a powerful mage with a mysterious past, into the heart of the country’s oldest and most mysterious Blight. There, they discover the work of mages not encountered since the darkest period in America’s past, when Black mages were killed for their power—work that could threaten Laura’s and the Skylark’s lives.

Salaam, With Love by Sara Sharaf Beg: Dua struggles to find her place in her conservative family's household, but as she spends the month of Ramadan with her cousin in Queens, Dua finds herself learning more about her faith, relationships, and place in the world.

Salt and Sugar by Rebecca Carvalho: A telenovela-esque rom-com debut that follows the grandchildren of two rival Brazilian bakeries, Lari Ramires and Pedro Molina, who fall in love despite their families' feud while working to win a contest that would save both of their bakeries from being driven out by a predatory supermarket chain.

Scout’s Honor by Lily Anderson: Following a biracial Puerto Rican teen, Prudence Perry, born into a family of highly ranked Ladybird Scouts, elite monster hunters masquerading as a prim and proper ladies' social club who gave up her tea set and daggers after her best friend was killed, but now must return to the scouts to face the biggest monster of all: her past.

A Secret Princess by Margaret Stohl & Melissa De La Cruz: A romantic YA retelling-mashup of A Little Princess and The Secret Garden by bestselling authors Margaret Stohl and Melissa de la Cruz.

Self-Made Boys by Anna-Marie McLemore: Three teens, Nicolás Caraveo, Daisy Fabrega, and Jay Gatsby, chase their own version of the American Dream during the Roaring 20s in this YA remix of The Great Gatsby.

Seoulmates by Susan Lee: Recently dumped high school nobody Hannah Cho must face her unresolved feelings for her childhood best friend, Jacob Kim, when he returns to their San Diego hometown as the newest K-drama heartthrob—and blackmails her into completing his summer bucket list with him.

Seton Girls by Charlene Thomas: The quarterback of Seton Academy prep school wants a state championship before his successor, Seton's first Black QB, has a chance to overshadow him, leading him to take bigger risks, and soon the team's awful secret leaks to a group of girls who suddenly have the power to change their world.

Shattered Midnight by Dhonielle Clayton: In 1920s New Orleans, 18-year-old Zora Broussard banished after an incident in Harlem, struggles with her overbearing family, magical powers, love of jazz, and forbidden romance with white pianist Philip.

She Gets the Girl by Rachel Lippincott & Alyson Derrick: Alex Blackwood is a little bit headstrong, with a dash of chaos and a whole lot of flirt. She knows how to get the girl. Keeping her on the other hand…not so much. Molly Parker has everything in her life totally in control, except for her complete awkwardness with just about anyone besides her mom. She knows she’s in love with the impossibly cool Cora Myers. She just…hasn’t actually talked to her yet.

A Show For Two by Tashie Bhuiyan: Mina’s ticket to winning a film competition falls into her lap when indie film star—and known heartbreaker—Emmitt Ramos enrolls in her high school under a secret identity to research his next role. They strike a deal to work together, and as Mina ventures across the five boroughs with Emmitt by her side, the city she grew up in starts to look different and more. With the competition deadline looming, Mina's dreams—which once seemed impenetrable—begin to crumble, and she’s forced to ask herself: Is winning worth losing everything?

The Signs and Wonders of Tuna Rashad by Natasha Deen: Following Tuna Rashad, always on the lookout for messages from her Caribbean ancestors who have passed on, as she tries to win over her crush before she leaves for college.

The Silence That Binds Us by Joanna Ho: In the year following their son's death, May Chen's parents face racist accusations of putting too much pressure on their son and causing his death by suicide, and May attempts to challenge the racism and ugly stereotypes through her writing, only to realize that she still has a lot to learn and that her actions have consequences for her family as well as herself.

Slip by Marika McCoola & Aatmaja Pandya: An emotional coming-of-age graphic novel for fans of Bloom and Laura Dean Keeps Breaking Up with Me.

Somebody That I Used to Know by Dana L. Davis: Aspiring musician Dylan Woods is forced to reunite with her ex–best friend Langston—who just happens to be the world’s biggest teen star.

Soul of the Deep (Skin of the Sea #2) by Natasha Bowen: To save those closest to her, Simi traded away everything: her freedom, her family, and the boy she loves. Now she is sworn to serve a new god, watching over the Land of the Dead at the bottom of the ocean.But when signs of demons begin to appear, it's clear there are deeper consequences of Simi's trade. With the fate of the world at stake, Simi must break her promise and team up with a scheming trickster of a god.

Spin Me Right Round by David Valdes: Luis Gonzalez just wants to go to prom with his boyfriend, but when a hit on the head knocks him back to 1985, he meets his parents' closeted classmate.

Squire by Sara Alfageeh & Nadia Shammas: Aiza has always dreamt of becoming a Knight. After she enlists in the competitive Squire program, it’s not how she imagined and she’ll have to soon choose between loyalty to her heart and heritage, or loyalty to the Empire.

Strike the Zither by Joan He: As three warring fractures try to gain control of the kingdom, orphaned Zephyr, a strategist serving Xin Ren, infiltrates an enemy camp where she encounters the enigmatic Crow, an opposing strategist who might just be her match.

The Summer of Bitter and Sweet by Jen Ferguson: Demisexual Metis teen Lou is settling in to spend the summer before college working at her close-knit family's small-town ice cream shack with her best friend, ex-boyfriend, and newly back-in-town crush, when a letter from her white biological father, recently out of prison, threatens to destroy everything she cares about.

The Sunbearer Trials by Aiden Thomas: Transgender demigod Teo is unexpectedly selected for the Sunbearer Trials, a fierce competition among demigod heroes where the winner sacrifices the loser to Sol, their blood fueling the Sun Stones that protect Reino del Sol.

Sunny G’s Series of Rash Decisions by Navdeep Singh Dillon: Sunny G's brother left him one thing when he died: His notebook, which Sunny is determined to fill up with a series of rash decisions. Decision number one was a big one: He stopped wearing his turban, cut off his hair, and shaved his beard. Sunny debuts his new look at prom, which he's stuck going to alone. Enter Mindii Vang, a girl with a penchant for making rash decisions of her own, starting with stealing Sunny's notebook. When Sunny chases after her, prom turns into an all-night adventure—a night full of rash, wonderful, romantic, stupid, life-changing decisions.

Survive the Dome by Kosko Jackson: High school junior Jamal Lawson teams up with hacker Marco during a police brutality protest to shut down a device that creates an impenetrable dome around Baltimore that is keeping the residents in and information from going out.

This is Why They Hate Us by Aaron H. Aceves: 17-year-old Enrique "Quique" Luna decides to get over his crush on Saleem Kanazi before the end of summer by pursuing other romantic prospects, but he ends up discovering heartfelt truths about friendship, family, and himself.

This Place is Still Beautiful by Xixi Tian: A story about first love, complicated family dynamics, and the pernicious legacy of racism, following two estranged teen sisters Annalie and Margaret who have no choice but to reunite in their small Midwestern town when their family becomes the victim of a hate crime.

This Wicked Fate (This Poison Heart #2) by Kalynn Bayron: Briseis races to save her family even as she discovers more about their ties to ancient goddesses and deadly curses.

A Thousand Heartbeats by Kiera Cass: Princess Annika has lived a life of comfort—but no amount of luxuries can change the fact that her life isn’t her own to control. Miles away, small comforts are few and far between for Lennox. For Lennox, the idea of love is merely a distraction—nothing will stand in the way of fighting for his people. But when love, against all odds, finds them both, they are bound by its call. They can’t possibly be together—but the irresistible thrum of a thousand heartbeats won’t let them stay apart.

A Thousand Steps Into Night by Traci Chee: In the realm of Awara, where gods, monsters, and humans exist side by side, ordinary Miuko is cursed and begins to transform into a demon with a deadly touch. Embarking on a quest to turn human again, she must outfox tricksters, escape demon hunters, and negotiate with feral gods if she wants to make it home again.

Three Kisses, One Midnight by Roshani Chokshi & Evelyn Skye & Sandhya Menon: A magical Halloween story pitched as told in the tradition of LET IT SNOW, set in a town reminiscent of Stars Hollow, featuring interconnected stories about three witchy best friends and their romantic quest involving love potions (that may or may not work) and true love's kiss before the clock strikes midnight,

TJ Powar Has Something to Prove by Jasmeen Kaur Deo: A charming rom-com about high school debater TJ Powar who—after becoming the subject of an ugly meme—makes a resolution to stop shaving, plucking, and waxing, and prove that she can be her hairy self and still be beautiful…but soon finds this may be her most difficult debate yet.

Together We Burn by Isabel Ibanez: 18-year-old flamenco dancer Zarela Zalvidar must work with a disgraced dragon hunter to learn the ways of a Dragador and save her ancestral home.

Tokyo Dreaming (Tokyo Ever After #2) by Emiko Jean: Princess Izumi of Japan will do anything to help her parents achieve their happily ever after, but what if playing the perfect princess means sacrificing her own? Will she find a way to forge her own path and follow her heart?

Travelers Along the Way by Aminah Mae Safi: In this reimagination of the legend of Robin Hood, Rahma al-Hud and her older sister Zeena travel to Jerusalem for a final mission, and on their way they assemble a ragtag band of misfits and get swept up Holy Land politics.

The Turning Pointe by Vanessa L. Torres: Following a dancer in 1980s Minnesota as she navigates complex family expectations, a new romance, and her own ambitions to dance for the Purple One himself, Prince.

Turning by Joy L. Smith: Before the "accident" Genie was an aspiring ballerina, now she is a bitter teenager, permanently confined to a wheelchair, but at physical therapy she meets Kyle, a gymnast whose traumatic brain injury has landed him in therapy--and through their growing friendship Genie realizes that she has to confront the things around her: like the booze her mother is hiding, or the fact that maybe her fall was not entirely accidental.

Twice as Perfect by Louisa Onome: 17-year-old Nigerian Canadian Adanna Nkwachi must deal with an estranged older brother, uncertainty about her future, and helping her cousin plan a big Nigerian wedding.

Valiant Ladies by Melissa Grey: In Potosai, a silver mining city in the new Spanish viceroyalty of Peru, proper ladies by day and teen vigilantes by night, Eustaquia “Kiki” de Sonza and Ana Lezama de Urinza set out to expose corruption and deliver justice after Kiki's brother is murdered and the prostitute he loved disappears.

Vinyl Moon by Mahogany L. Browne: Reeling from the scars of a past relationship, Angel finds healing and hope in the words of strong Black writers and the new community she builds in Brooklyn

We Are All We Have by Marina Budhos: After her mom is taken by ICE, 17-year-old Rania's hopes and dreams for the future are immediatly put on hold as she figures out how take care of her younger brother and survive in a country that seems to be closing around them.

We Are the Scribes by Randi Pink: Ruth Fitz, a black teenager surrounded by activism in a family rocked by tragedy, discovers that she has begun to receive parchment letters from Harriet Jacobs, the author of the autobiography and 1861 American classic.

We Deserve Monuments by Jas Hammonds: When 17-year-old Avery moves to rural Georgia to live with her ailing grandmother, she encounters decade-old family secrets and a mystery surrounding the town's racist past.

We Weren’t Looking To Be Found by Stephanie Kuehn: Dani and Camilla find friendship on their path to mental health in a story of acceptance, recovery, and resilience.

The Weight of Blood by Tiffany D. Jackson: When a viral bullying incident reveals outcast Madison Washington’s secret of being biracial, student leaders come up with a plan to change their image: host the school's first integrated prom as a show of unity. The popular white class president convinces her Black superstar quarterback boyfriend to ask Maddy to be his date. But some of her classmates aren't done with her just yet. And what they don't know is that Maddy still has another secret, one that will cost them all their lives.

Well, That Was Unexpected by Jesse Q. Sutanto: After Sharlot Citra is whisked from L.A. to her mother's native Indonesia in order to "get back to her roots," who—through a comedy of errors and overzealous parents—she finds herself fake dating the son of one of the wealthiest families in Indonesia, and is surprised when she actually starts to fall in love with the boy, with the country, and with the big family she never knew before now,

What Souls Are Made Of by Tasha Suri: As the abandoned son of a Lascar—a sailor from India—Heathcliff has spent most of his young life maligned as an "outsider." Now he's been flung into an alien life in the Yorkshire moors. Catherine, the younger child of the estate's owner, a daughter with light skin and brown curls and a mother that nobody talks about, soon finds solace with Heathcliff. But when Catherine's father dies and the household's treatment of Heathcliff only grows more cruel, their relationship becomes strained and threatens to unravel.

What’s Coming to Me by Francesca Padilla: After the ice cream stand where she works is robbed, 17-year-old Minerva Gutiaerrez plans to get revenge on her predatory boss while navigating grief, anger, and dreams of escape from her dead-end hometown.

Whiteout by Dhonielle Clayton & Tiffany D. Jackson & Nic Stone & Angie Thomas & Ashley Woodfolk & Nicola Yoon: Atlanta is blanketed with snow just before Christmas, but the warmth of young love just might melt the ice in this novel of interwoven narratives, Black joy, and cozy, sparkling romance.

The Wicked Remain (Grimrose Girls #2) by Laura Pohl: At Grimrose Académie, Nani, Yuki, Ella, and Rory have discovered the truth about the curse that's left a trail of dead bodies at Grimrose. But the four still know nothing of its origins, or how to stop the cycle of doomed fates. Can the girls change their own stories and break the curse?

This Woven Kingdom by Tahereh Mafi: To all the world, Alizeh is a disposable servant, not the long-lost heir to an ancient Jinn kingdom forced to hide in plain sight.The crown prince, Kamran, has heard the prophecies foretelling the death of his king. But he could never have imagined that the servant girl with the strange eyes, the girl he can’t put out of his mind, would one day soon uproot his kingdom—and the world.

Wrong Side of Court by H.N. Khan: 15-year-old Fawad Chaudhry has big dreams about being the world's first Pakistani to be drafted into the NBA.

The Witchery by S. Isabelle: Logan came to Mesmortes Coven Academy in Haelsford, Florida, to learn to control her powers, but she soon learns she has a role to play in the ancient curse of the hellmouth--whatever the cost to herself and her new friends.

You Truly Assumed by Laila Sabreen: Three Black Muslim teens, Sabriya, Zakat, and Farah, living different parts of the country start a blog to fight Islamophobia and find friendship and hope as they let their voices be heard.

Zyla & Kai by Kristina Forest: The story of how cynic Zyla Matthews and hopeless romantic Kai Johnson become friends, fall in love, and break up unfolds from their different perspectives.

#authors of color #booklr #book recs #book recommendations #yalit #IT'S MY FAVORITE TIME OF YEAR BABEYYY!!!#the list isn't totally done!!!#i still have to finish putting up the rest of the hyperlinks and descriptions #but wanted to get this up and posted before the year was actually over LOLOL #still going strong with the illustrated book covers trend!!!#which i personally dig tbh

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theficpusher · 1 year

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Tommo the Tease by YesIsAWorld | E | 1775 Seeing Tommo relaxed and shirtless in person was a whole lot different than seeing him gleaming and shirtless on a camboy video.

Lapful Of Lou by hazzahtomlinson | M | 2055 Harry sighed, snuggling into his pillow. “You’re the best boyfriend.” He said, and then his eyes shot open. “I mean— you would be the best boyfriend.” His eyes flickered to Louis’ face, who was standing beside the bed, with a smirk on his face. “Not— not like my boyfriend. I mean— like. I wouldn’t mind if you were my— no.” He pressed his lips together to stop anymore words from barreling out. His face was flaming. And Louis was standing there, arms crossed over his chest, like he was waiting for Harry to finish. “You done?” He asked with a little bubble of laughter. Harry grimaced, “Just leave me here to die.” Or they are both idiots and it takes a drunk Harry (with no brain to mouth filter) to get things going.

If It All Goes Wrong by sunsetmog | M | 3341 Nick smiles. "Best people," he says. "Best mates." Harry moves so that his elbow's touching Nick's. "Best mates," he echoes. "Best wedding." Or: it's Pixie and George's wedding in Mallorca, and the night's coming to an end.

Baby, I'm Right Here by FallingLikeThis | E | 8186 Seven years. They’ve been best friends for seven years now and Harry’s only recently realized that his feelings for Louis have never actually been all that platonic. He’s never going to say anything because he’s pretty sure that if they ever had a chance for something more, that ship has probably sailed. And it probably doesn’t help that they live an ocean apart either. That ship is long gone, far over the horizon. or Harry and Louis are best friends who live on different continents and may or may not be in love with each other.

Truth be told, I'm lying by mediaville | E | 10363 They used to have a Thing, now they don't, but they both still kind of want to, and then they do. Inspired by the night in London on the TMH tour when Louis and Harry didn't look at each other once. This fic could be subtitled: Louis Tomlinson's Failed Attempts at Indifference.

if it's me you're looking for by eleadore | M | 14797 Louis has a bad habit of getting drunk before he confesses--or maybe it's the other way around. AU.

'cause I want you (for the worse and for the better) by nonsensedarling | nr | 26375 When Louis gets invited along to Anne's wedding, Harry is prepared to let people think whatever they want about their relationship. That's what Louis said -- let people think whatever they want. That changes when Louis sees his ex, who turns out to be Anne's future husband's son. Now, Louis wants to prove that he's an omega that an alpha could want, and Harry wants to get through this weekend without letting his best friend figure out he's in love with him.

How Fast You Fall by kingsofeverything | E | 49580 Casual hookups are all Louis has time for, and Harry has a plan to stay single and celibate until he graduates. After going from strangers to roommates to friends, they both start to want more. It just takes them a little while to figure it out.

Among Lavender Fields by homosociallyyours | E | 70354 At twenty-one, Louis Tomlinson is more than ready to shed the girl next door image that's been with her since her entry into film in her childhood, but with a mother and father steeped in Hollywood tradition it's felt impossible. Meanwhile, Harry Styles is a young, struggling musician new to London, friendless yet eager for the next phase of her life to begin. When French director Marie Coutard casts the two of them in her film, it's a chance for both to break away from the people they've been. Together, they struggle through an acting process that's new and unfamiliar for both of them, learning more than they could've imagined about themselves along the way. As they spend long days picking lavender and long nights sharing the things they've never been able to tell anyone else, their love blooms. Will the flower fade, or will the love they make among lavender fields be one they carry with them to the end?

#in vino veritas #Tommo the Tease #Lapful Of Lou #If It All Goes Wrong #Baby I'm Right Here #Truth be told I'm lying #if it's me you're looking for #'cause I want you (for the worse and for the better)#How Fast You Fall #Among Lavender Fields #homosociallyyours #kingsofeverything #nonsensedarling #eleadore #mediaville #fallinglikethis #sunsetmog #hazzahtomlinson #yesisaworld

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theglamorousferal · 30 days

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So there's this world that has been on the back burner while I've had a decade-long writer's block. It's a world that my friends and I were rp-ing in for a summer before it all fell apart before it really started. I've had it in my mind this entire time though. I have basic notes written about the different countries and some of the main characters. I'm gonna share the countries notes.

A basic synopsis of the original rp was that we were each friends who were writing letters to each other to discover the secret of the "Star Daughter". It was a steampunk world with magic thrown in here or there and we were supposed to eventually journey together into the Uncharted Regions to find more clues and also my character's lost older brother.

Tsianta - the entire country is 6 km high and most of the people who live there live underground with crystal ceilings to bring light into lower levels. Some who live on the edges of the cliffs have built vertical cities facing the other regions. Tsianta mostly consists of three large cities and many small villages, all of which are mostly underground or on the sides of the continent. The capital is built facing the Country of Catanya with a large volcanic glass sheet the length of the cliff-face and braced with runes. The primary export is ores, gemstones, and Aerium.

Catanya - Industrial island with tropical climate, being surrounded by high cliffs with lava flows going through them allows for them to near constantly be warm. Much of the land is either factory or farmland or lab. In the center of it all is their capital Hoschault, which contains the International tradeport, the University and the Grand Hall or governing building. The main export is food, mass-produced clothing and medicine.

Abazyn - An archipelago country, there are fauna that are easily tameable to have as companions. Ranging from small enough to fit in the palm of a hand up to creatures that are rideable. Teacup dragons are a common pet that have been sent to other world leaders as a peace offering. Fishing is a big staple of the region as well as certain foods and spices that can only be grown in the tropical climate. Most coffee comes from Abazyn’s capital island of Abadi. The people frequently will hop between islands on sea skimmers, solo-airships that use the wind blowing above the waves to travel.

Ce’uria - a desert country, the main export is sea ships and land skimmer ships. Ce’urian people have an innate magic that allows them to manipulate sand in any form and with practice are able to make intricate glass figurines. There is a library containing all of the knowledge that has been recorded and its location is a closely guarded secret among the council that runs the country. The capital, Sho’ya, is along the southern coast and has the largest water shipyard in the world.

Terralus - with high mountains to both its borders, the land between the mountain ranges is flat steppes and plains. The northern portion of the country is covered with a 1km thick glacier; there are three rivers that start from springs under this glacier that cut through the country. One goes straight through to the southernmost point of the country, another cuts across and lets out just above the Ce’urian border, and the last cuts through Calakai. The people are mostly nomadic, choosing one location for a few months of a growing season before moving on. There are a few established locations, like the capital Rodan that sits nestled amongst the mountains bordering Calakai. Their main export is meat and textiles.

Calakai - a mountainous country with a temperate climate, Calakai is the main exporter in the world of airships. With cities ranging from 20 m below sea level to 3 km above it, airships became every-day use after the discovery of Aerium, an element with innate magic properties that allows for larger ships to be manufactured at a cheaper cost. The capital Fodelle lies on the banks of a river flowing from the glacier in Terralus.

Solari - this country boasts having at least a small section of each climate, from desert to tropics, from temperate to tundra. It also is the one with the longest unbroken royal family line, the Ceandres family, dating back six hundred years. They have kept the family line healthy by a decree three hundred years ago to only marry outside of the family to prevent inbreeding. The capital Solaris lies in the bay in the south of the country and is where most of the royal family lives. They’ve been pretty isolated for the last hundred years and have only recently reopened borders in the last ten.

Uncharted Regions - This area is surrounded by clouds that blot out the sky and winds so high that most ships cannot make it through. No one has managed to come back from the Uncharted Regions in living memory. Charts in the Ce'urian library indicate that there was an ancient city where magic was the everyday norm.

#original writing #original world #fantasy writing #steampunk writing

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eurydicees · 1 year

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You asked for lyrics a while back & I don't have any fandom in mind but I sure do have ABBA's Lay all your love on me stuck in my head, specifically the "I feel a kind of fear / When I don't have you near / Unsatisfied, I skip my pride /I beg you, dear"

ahhhh my favorite ABBA song !!! i was soooo excited to write this one. thank you for the prompt! i will be real, the song influence is light but it is there i promise. i hope u don't mind iwaoi!

you don't have to beg me to stay

summary: a beach, and a breakup that they can't quite make stick. prompt: lyric prompts, lay all your love on me by ABBA pairings: hajime iwaizumi/tooru oikawa words: 1574 warnings: none

In the dying hours of the California sunlight, Iwaizumi looks beautiful.

He always looks beautiful, Oikawa thinks, but this is different. Right now, he’s a Greek statue, the sunlight glittering on the marble of his skin; he’s a monument to art, with the ocean reflected in his eyes; he’s the epitome of all things that glitter gold and silver. He always looks beautiful, but here, he looks like he owns the ocean. Owns the world.

He belongs here, Oikawa realizes. In California. With the waves and the sunlight and the people he’s befriended at his college. He belongs here.

Oikawa watches as Iwaizumi wades further into the water, until he’s knee deep when the highest waves hit. The water splashes up to his chest, dotting his white shirt with salted water. Oikawa watches him from behind, from where he cannot see Iwaizumi’s face. He’s a silhouette in the sunset, watching over the horizon as the sun sinks below as if he’s keeping diligent watch.

“Hajime,” Oikawa starts, but he doesn’t finish the sentence. He doesn’t know how. How do you tell your boyfriend that you love him so much that you must leave him? How do you tell the person you love the most in the world that you have to let him go? How do you start that conversation? How do you tell him while you’re here, in the sunlight, watching his beauty bleed across the skyline as if he is part of the sunlight? “Come here.”

Iwaizumi turns around, smiling at him. He walks out of the water, finding Oikawa on the sand. He is always finding Oikawa, always searching for him, no matter where they are. It’s time to stop searching. Iwaizumi has to stop sacrificing things for him.

There was talk, a few weeks ago, of Iwaizumi moving to San Juan after graduation. Moving in with Oikawa. There was talk, a few weeks ago, of the two of them being together in person, in one time zone, one country, one apartment, for the first time in years. There was talk, a few weeks ago, of the two of them ending the long distance thing and doing the relationship thing while standing on the same continent.

The conversation had ended at an impasse. Iwaizumi doesn’t really want to live in Argentina, as much as Oikawa thinks he would like the culture. Oikawa can’t leave Argentina—he’s committed to being in the Argentinian volleyball league, to being an Argentinian citizen. He’s not going to give any of that up now.

So there was talk. There was not a resolution. There will not be a resolution.

“Hi,” Iwaizumi says, reaching Oikawa. He puts his arms on Oikawa’s shoulders, resting there, connected in any way that they can be. Fuck, Oikawa loves him. He loves him and he loves him and he loves him and he does not want to let this go. “You look like you’re thinking too hard again.”

Oikawa swallows. He looks down at their feet, his own toes buried in the sand. “I think we should break up.”

Iwaizumi stiffens, but he doesn’t move his arms and he doesn’t step away. He says, calmly, “Why do you think that?”

“We’ll—Hajime, we’re never going to live on the same continent. Same time zone. Same country. Don’t you—don’t you want something…”

“Tooru,” Iwaizumi starts, a low growl to his voice, “if you say that I should want something real, I’m going to punch you.”

Oikawa stays silent and Iwaizumi seems to take that as an answer. Iwaizumi leans forward, pressing their foreheads together. Oikawa can feel his breath on his own lips and he wants to kiss him but this is a break up and he is not allowed such beautiful things right now. “You deserve someone who can stay with you.”

“You’ve stayed with me for the past two decades,” Iwaizumi argues. “Yeah, we’re on different continents, but—we’ve stayed together for this long because we love each other. Isn’t that enough? Isn’t that real enough?”

“It’s real,” Oikawa chokes out. It is. It is. “I just…you have the world at your fingertips, Hajime, I don’t want to hold you back.”

Iwaizumi lifts his head, staring at him. His face is blank. “You’ve never once held me back.”

“I—”

“You haven’t. Tooru. You don’t hold me back by following your dreams. If anything, I’m holding you back.” Iwaizumi takes a breath, and swallows. His eyes glitter with sun and ocean and unshed tears, and Oikawa’s heart lurches at the sight. He doesn’t ever want to see Iwaizumi cry; making Iwaizumi happy is a goal that’s been hardwired into his brain since day one.

Iwaizumi continues, still making eye contact with Oikawa even as a tear spills over. “Yeah, long distance is hard. I miss you all the time. I’m jealous of everyone who gets to be around you every day. I’m sad I can’t see your messy hair when you wake up in the morning and it sucks that I can’t cook you dinner when you come home from practice and I hate that so many other people get to be with you during the day while I have to be here.”

“Iwa—”

“But it would be so, so much worse to not mean anything to you at all.” Iwaizumi squeezes his eyes shut and more tears spill over. “If you want to break up, I—I’ll respect that. But I’m not above begging you to stay. Let—just—let me try. Let me try to show you.”

“Show me what?” Oikawa asks, choking on the words, on his own tears.

Iwaizumi opens his eyes. Seems to see Oikawa in a different light. In the San Juan sun, in the light that Argentina gets to see him in, in the fluorescents of his home gym. Seems to love him anyway. Even from so far away. “Show you that it's real and worth it to me. That you’re worth it. That what we have is worth keeping.”

Oikawa lets out a single sob, a cry, a desperate please stay, please keep loving me, I want to promise that I’ll love you forever, too. He collapses forward, burying his face in the place where Iwaizumi’s shoulder and neck meet, wrapping his arms around Iwaizumi’s waist and placing his palms on Iwaizumi’s shoulder blades. He tugs him close, trying to drown all of his insecurities in Iwaizumi’s breath.

“I don’t want to break up,” Oikawa murmurs into Iwaizumi’s bare skin. “I just want you to be happy.”

“You make me happy.” Iwaizumi says it matter of fact, says it boldly, and doesn't hesitate for a moment. “Wherever we are in the world, you make me happy. Knowing that I’m yours makes me happy. Knowing that you’re mine makes me happy. Knowing that we have something special, something unbreakable despite distance makes me happy.”

Oikawa squeezes his eyes shut, swallowing something thick in his throat. “Okay.”

“Is that enough for you?” Iwaizumi asks quietly, doubt creeping into his voice for the first time.

“Yeah,” Oikawa says, wet with tears and tired of his own insecurity and hating the distance and loving Iwaizumi anyway. “Yeah. Yeah. Yeah, it is. It is.”

Iwaizumi presses his forehead against Oikawa’s shoulder and pulls him tight against himself. Then, “Get off me for a minute, ‘kay? I just—I want to look at you when I say this.”

Oikawa lifts his head and steps back, dropping his hands from Iwaizumi’s waist. Iwaizumi takes a breath and steps back, looking at the sand between them. He digs one foot deeper into the sand and then pulls something out of his pocket.

Then he’s on one knee, looking up at Oikawa with the tears on his cheeks drying in the last of the sunlight. He’s on one knee, opening the box he pulled out of his pocket to reveal a gold ring. He’s on one knee, saying, “I love you.”

Oikawa puts a hand over his mouth, staring at Iwaizumi as he looks up at him with all of the vulnerability and bravery and love in the world.

“I don’t care where the future takes us—Argentina or California or Miyagi or somewhere else entirely new—as long as we know we’re partners,” Iwaizumi continues. “This is—you’ve been everything to me for two decades. Even if we’re physically apart most of the time right now, you’re in my heart all the time. I want to be in yours. I want to be yours. Tooru, will you marry me?”

A beat. A pause. A breeze of fresh sea air and the crash of a wave.

“Yes,” Oikawa breathes out. “Yes, yes, yes, yes—Hajime—”

He leans down and he kisses Iwaizumi before he even looks at the ring. He cups Iwaizumi’s jaw and holds him close, palms warm and his hands shaking slightly. Iwaizumi kisses him back, and then he’s standing up, straight and strong and tall. They break apart, and Iwaizumi slides the ring on his finger. It glitters like a star under the night sky.

The ring safely on his finger and the box back in Iwaizumi’s pocket, Oikawa kisses him again. “I love you. I’m sorry I—”

“We’re here now,” Iwaizumi breaks in. “Don’t worry so much, okay? We’re here now, and we’re together. We’re not holding each other back by loving each other. Partners until the end, remember?”

Oikawa grins at him. “Fiancés now.”

Iwaizumi hums, then kisses him again. “Invincible.”

“Yeah?” Oikawa asks.

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi answers. “Invincible.”

#my writing #ask #haikyuu #iwaoi #hajime iwaizumi #tooru oikawa #iwaoi fanfiction #haikyuu fanfiction #iwaoi fic #oikawa fic #iwaizumi fanfic #oikawa tooru #iwaizumi hajime #haikyuu fic

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athunderstryke · 3 months

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my grandparents have recently both passed away and my dad is currently remodeling their house with the intention of selling it. they lived countries and continents away so I didn't get around to visiting them all that often but from the times that I did, I remember that house and I remember that they lived there. I asked my brother, who is much older than me and spent a lot more time growing up in the house, if he is sad that the house is being changed and we may never go in it again. He hasn't been able to visit at all in the past years even though he constantly wishes he could so I thought he would be sad. But it surprised me when he said that he doesn't mind about the house, he plans to visit the graves. I realized that I did not think that way. Because to me, their memory, their soul, isn't with a rock I've never seen before. It's in my memories, in the house. It's when my grandma helped me wash and hang my laundry to dry from the apartment window, its where my grandpa would joke around and tell me he can summon rain by singing when we were walking through the hallway. Revisiting these memories, seeing the worn out wood floors, the sun bleached rugs, the china collections, and the old old tv, that would be more impactful for me in remembering them.

But all of this is different for my dad. To him, he's getting peace and closure with clearing out the house. He didn't have the best relationships with his parents, so changing the house and getting rid of it is his way of lifting the past traumas off his shoulders. In a way it was exactly the same for me here. Since my dad has been gone for years to take care of my grandparents and now fix the house, us here, my siblings and I, have been remodeling my dad's house with the intention of renting it while he's gone. This house was where I grew up. Played with my toys running all around, stuck glow in the dark stars and paper moons on my walls, etched my height into the door frame. But also, this is the house where I'd drop everything I was doing and freeze to try to hear why my parents were yelling. This was the house where the dinners would be tense. This is the house where I was lectured that I shouldn't listen to pop music. This is the house where I began to be obsessively germaphobic, because that's what my dad was. But also, this is the house I lived in when I had the most friends, the entire street were mostly kids my age and we would all play, go to the park and play lava tag, play in the mountain wilds, turn our front yards into potion shops and super hero hangouts. This was the house I bravely learned to lose my baby teeth. The house where my mom would teach me to cook and sew. But also, this was the house where my dad was always by his computer, typing away at his book or arguing with someone online about politics. The house I was homeschooled in cause real school didn't work for me. My mom tried her best but I was difficult and I would cry and yell because I just couldn't understand math. This was the house I loved and hated and would never want to live in again. So of course I wanted it remodeled, I wanted that white-ish yellow walls my dad painted when we first moved in to be gone. The beige matted carpets that never got vacuumed after me and my mom moved out completely ripped out. The lights changed, the countertops, the banisters, the front door. Change everything, replace Theseus's ship one plank at a time. We threw out old things and shoved all my dad's stuff in a storage unit. Now there are new people living there. But with so much stuff changed, I realized the memories still remained. The house looks different on the inside but the layout is still the same, the kitchen where my dad jokingly said he'd kill me if I was gay is still there, the bedroom I cried in and couldn't sleep cause I anxious about something or another. The outside is the exact same. The backyard where my dad planted trees we took care of cause he'd leave. My friends houses are still there even though every single one of them has moved away. You can change the ship's planks all you want, making it technically a different ship, but in Theseus's mind, it will always be the same ship.

Not sure what the intention of this post was. Supposed I wanted to draw parallels and underline history repeating itself in my family. Maybe for the first time in many years I am starting to understand my dad and not really hate him in my angsty teenage way. Everyone has their unique upbringing causing a butterfly affect for the rest of their lives and affecting their children. he was raised in the soviet union, his country experienced famines, money in banks was lost, he did everything he could to get his family out of there, they moved around until getting a scholarship into an American college and being able to comfortably move his family to the US and then I was born. I understand the stress he lived through, I understand that there are some things I don't understand. I understand that I won't ever forgive him for some of the things I grew up with. But I also understand that he loves me, he doesn't know how to love me, cause his love can be stressful and suffocating sometimes, but he loves me. And I am making my peace with that, I am moving on. Because even if you don't agree with someone, they have a negative effect on your mental health, and you wished they raised you better, they still deserve to be understood.

my life and circumstances may be different than yours, but I still wish my thoughts here helped you be able to make peace with your own life.

#I fix my daddy issues #poetry #personal #late night thoughts #psychoanalyzing myself #mental health #might delete this cause I usually dont like to open my heart out like this but I reckon it #might help someone who's feeling similarly about their childhood #long text

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wanderingmind867 · 6 months

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My Interpretation of the Justice League Pt. 2

Post-Crisis: Since Barry Allen was erased from time after dying during the crisis, the original Justice League never had the flash as a team member. No, instead Hawkman takes his place as a founder of the Justice League. So the founders post crisis are Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, Green Lantern, Hawkman, Martian Manhunter and Aquaman. Besides this change though, everything stays very much the same.

Well, besides the Martian Manhunter's backstory (and how the justice league disbands, but that's a topic for another paragraph). New Mars does exist, but Ma'alefa'ak destroys it. He remembers the crisis (one of the rare few with a willpower strong enough to remember the world pre-crisis) and it drove him insane. He's now convinced he must kill his fellow martians to save them from the return of the anti-monitor, and so he sets fire to the whole colony of New Mars. Martian Manhunter returns just in time to see his family and community be taken from him once again. New Mars is gone, his wife and kids are all dead, and his brother has gone insane. He's lost everything.

But besides the Martian Manhunter's backstory, everything else remains the same. The Martian Manhunter leaves the team in 1971. He stays in space until 1983 (except this time, he stayed in space solely to guard his brother), until the other justice league members summon him to save them.

Then the Justice League disbands, and Martian Manhunter founds the Justice League Detroit. But two big differences occur here. The first difference is how the league disbands. Originally (pre-crisis) the league disbanded because a bunch of supervillians broke onto their watchtower, destroyed it and took all the league members hostage.

But here, the team falls apart to internal dissent. A civil war is brewing on the team. Batman is leading an open rebellion against the league, supposedly in resistance to the team having so many super powerful beings. And he's recruited people to his side. The Atom, Green Arrow and Zatanna were persuaded to his side (Green Arrow was tricked into it, promised a looser team hierarchy, while Zatanna did it because she owed a family debt to Bruce and The Atom did it because he was emotionally unstable at that time). Then he kidnapped and forcibly reprogrammed the Red Tornado to serve him too In short, the factions are:

Batman's side: Batman, The Atom, Green Arrow, Red Tornado and Zatanna.

The League: Superman, Wonder Woman, Aquaman, Green Lantern (Hal Jordan), Hawkman, Hawkwoman, Black Canary, Elongated Man and Firestorm.

The two factions tear each apart and batman kidnaps the rest of the league. Martian Manhunter has to come back and save them (and pretty much snap Bruce out of it). After saving them, the team breaks up (and Batman, The Atom, Elongated Man and Zatanna are suspended from the team, although Red Tornado gets amnesty) and Martian Manhunter founds the Justice League Detroit.

The other difference here is that the Martian Manhunter brings Ma'alefa'ak with him when he comes to earth, and makes him join the Justice League Detroit too. So the Justice League Detroit has six members this time.

Post-Crisis II: Justice League… Ottawa? and the birth of the Justice League International: Around 1988 or 1989, The Justice League Detroit gets a mission in Canada.

The New Justice League Canada has seven founding members, too: Martian Manhunter and seven other members I can't think of right now. But I want whoever's added to be Canadian. Whether they be original characters or old characters retconned to be Canadian, I don't really care.

Anyways, the Justice League moves up to Canada. They still serve America too, but their headquarters are in Ottawa now. This also makes Martian Manhunter realize that each continent probably needs it's own justice league, since there's so many countries and peoples that need helping all over. Thus is born the Justice League Europe, as well as the Justice League Asia, Justice League Africa, Justice League Oceania and Justice League South America. The Canadian team works for all of North America.

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gofancyninjaworld · 2 years

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OPM Stuff I'm Looking Forward to in 2023

Manga

Now: P is for Psycho-tits

The only thing we're totally guaranteed to get is the continuation and eventual conclusion of the three-way rock-tossing contest over the corpus of Psykos. Given how Psykos used to treat people as things to be used, abused, and manipulated, to see her reduced to a pawn to be played for couldn't be happening to a nicer psychopath (term used loosely).

For Tatsumaki to be deliberately throwing away her hard-won reputation for responsibility and valour in order to keep Pyskos out of the hands of Tsukuyomi speaks to them being more of a threat than we might initially suppose. I can't wait to see how this pans out.

Including what part the guy totally tired of these rock-tossing tossers' antics, Saitama, might play.

Very soon: D is for Dissonance, Dealings, and Disciples

If you're a manga-only reader (if so, what the hell are you doing reading this blog?), then there's been a bit of a jolt between the end of the last arc and this one.

Did not the monsters rampage for hours a few days prior, setting the world in a panic even before the showdown at the Monster Association? Was not the death toll in the thousands already before the first rumblings at City Z? Did not apocalpytic damage get done to the very planet, with part of the crust sliced and a previously-submerged continent re-emerging? Were not dozens of heroes frantically pulling people from rubble even as giant boulders rained down, desperate to save as many as they could before tsunamis rolled in, the last of which was so large the coastline seems to have permanently moved? Was City Z not nuked?

So why are we here in Hero Association headquarters without the slightest acknowledgement that anything is amiss? Not a whisper about any death toll or destruction. It feels claustophobic.

If you're a webcomic reader, you're creeped out. Not only have events shifted to the Hero Association but there's a real similarity between events immediately after the MA arc in the webcomic and that in the manga... only the contexts are a little different, and that nearly but not quite harmonious match puts one in Uncanny Valley. It feels wrong.

I'm expecting the dissonance between the manga and webcomic to break as the consequences of the last few weeks finally come home to roost. There's plenty to criticise the Hero Association for, and from the sounds of things, until now, they've had an easy time of it with the media. Could all change drastically.

Speaking of dissonance...

...for a desperately devoted disciple, Genos has been keeping his distance from Saitama.

He popped up to talk about Saitama -- got him promoted while at it -- a couple of days before we caught up with the story in 170. He had something else doing at HA HQ that day and only stuck around to help Saitama recover their former apartment.

It's been a further two days and Genos is nowhere to be seen. He's definitely not moved in or Forte wouldn't be trying to throw his weight around.

What's he up to? Best case scenario: Genos is back at the lab, getting another fantastic upgrade, one that doesn't have to be hastily installed overnight. He can't not do them -- although, with the kind of power and durability he already has it's scary to imagine where he'll go next. Unless the doctor means to put him on a parts diet, hehe. Worst case scenario: he's been kidnapped by Blast after the latter heard via Sicchi what Genos had said. It'd be days before either of his people thought to raise the alarm. Middle-of-the-road: Genos is shopping round, bargaining for a better deal for Saitama than a grudging promotion to the bottom of Class A.

Speaking of dealings...

...my goodness, did ONE punish heroes or what? Certainly, everyone in the strike team as well as anyone who came to support them got a personal hell meted out to them. We've met a couple of heroes but I'm keen to see how the rest of them are doing: Child Emperor, Metal Bat, Tank Top Master, Puri Puri Prisoner, Superalloy Darkshine, and Atomic Samurai.

Atomic Samurai having to deal with burying his friends, comforting both his disciples and the disciples of his deceased friends, and retraining as his techniques were nearly worthless in the battlefield, I am most keen to see.

Oh yeah, wasn't Flashy Flash already offering to train Saitama back in the Monster Association? I bet he's going to show up to offer his services soon enough.

Then again, what is Drive Knight up to? He came out of it all pretty well, with plenty of otherwise difficult to obtain intelligence, a filled-up battery, and monster samples. What's this bastard going to do with it all? I hope we get some indication this year.

Soon enough: S is for Swimming with Sharks

I don't expect that we'll get a full resolution this year, but I do expect that the net thrown around Amai Mask is going to slowly start tightening. He's very lucky that what he'd hoped to be his debut in front of the sketpical S-Class heroes turned out to be a complete humiliation. These guys are too smart: they take note, make notes, and share them. If his monstrous side had been detected, he'd be either dead or a most special guest of the Hero Association Special Internment Facilities right now.

His luck won't last forever. Iaian will be back sooner or later. Child Emperor might have seen something, and might be planning something. Unknown to him, Do-S is alive and well. Is she going to try blackmailing him?

This could take a couple of very interesting turns.

There'll be more but I think this is quite enough to begin with 2023 is sure to throw some curve balls!

Webcomic

Who knows? Every day I live in hope of a new chapter. One of these days, ONE shall provide. I don't even dare hope for more this year.

#OPM #predictions #2023 #I'd love to make more predictions but the only thing I know is that I don't know where it'll go #or how it'll get there

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crossroadsdimension · 1 year

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Barnabas vs Vholran: Not Carbon Copies of a Looming Villain

On the 11th of July, someone in a Discord server I frequently lurk found a tweet about how Barnabas of FF16 and Vholran (a villain in the game Tales of Arise) looked similar and seemed to have similar backgrounds and methods. (tweet in question here )

Since I was working my way through the game at the time and hadn't truly encountered Barnabas yet, I thought it was an interesting observation. I played through Tales of Arise pretty much the first two weeks it came out and thought of Vholran as a Sephiroth-type villain (post about Vholran's actions in the game here), and a part of me wondered if Barnabas was going to be similar.

I mean, the readers for my Tales of Arise fanfic have been calling Vholran "Water Sephiroth" for a reason. The man looms over the plot, and even if he wasn't the one who set events in motion, he is still the final boss. Considering that Sephiroth and Barnabas are both Final Fantasy characters, at the time I could see them doing much the same.

Having beaten FF16 a couple weeks ago, I can confidently say that Vholran and Barnabas are not the same. Their methods may be similar, but the goals they stem from are so fundamentally different that I imagine Vholran and Barnabas would be at each other's throats if they ever came face to face with each other.

Full analysis as to why down below -- putting it under the cut because general spoilers for late game Tales of Arise (a year and a half old game, but still) and late-game FF16.

I'm going to get the similarities out of the way first: yes, Barnabas and Vholran both like dressing in dark clothes and are rulers of their own "kingdoms," enacting their power over the populace with an iron fist for the sake of their own goals.

But it's the details that sets them apart from each other.

First, Vholran's role in Tales of Arise, since his game has been out for a while.

Vholran was a man who was experimented on at some point before the start of the game and given great power as a result. Originally a slave without any agency -- and then a lab rat for a time -- he was suddenly placed on a high pedestal when he was told he was the Sovereign. In the context of Tales of Arise, that means he's the strongest of the Renans (the group that is oppressing Vholran's people, the Dahnans). While it's made clear that he is still going to be used as a tool for a mysterious force the Renans don't know about, he is still given power over Dahnans and Renans and allowed to do as he pleases in order to collect astral energy -- that is, Arise's version of aether. (This collection hasn't started destroying the planet Dahna yet, to be clear. Apparently three centuries isn't enough time for the Blight-alike (aka Hollowing) to set into the land.)

Vholran's ruling over his kingdom of water, Ganath Haros, essentially turned everyone into mindless puppets who worshiped the ground he walked on, willing to turn themselves into astral energy in order to fuel his schemes. He leaves behind a people who don't know how to think for themselves, and ultimately turns into the true final boss of the game, berating Alphen for being so weak that he needs to rely on others. He became a slave to his own desires in the end, wanting to rule over everything he saw -- even if that meant destroying the very worlds Alphen was trying to save. Alphen, a Sovereign in his own right, and someone Vholran hated and wanted dead more than anything else.

Vholran did everything he could to hold onto the power and seeming-freedom he had, and was killed in the end by the very man he had been re-created to replace.

Now, Barnabas' role in FF16 is very different from that of this crazed, ice katana-wielding swordsman who has so much in common with Sephiroth.

Barnabas was a man who moved to Ash from somewhere to the south and took over the whole continent, uniting the separated warring tribes under his banner and ousting the kingdom that used to be located around the Mothercrystal Drake's Spine. He's been the same physical age for the last 40 years according to Vivan Ninetales, and there is a reason for that -- the man is Akashic, someone who has been exposed to too much aether and as a result has lost the will to act on his own. He seems to survive by absorbing the aether of those around him, much like an energy vampire of some kind, and he serves his God and Master with unwavering loyalty that borders on religious fervor. The man willingly sold his soul to the devil and now walks in Ultima's shadow, wielding the darkness of Odin for the four-armed monster's goals. He is killed two fights before the final boss, happily accepting his death at the hands of Clive Rosfield, the Mythos he waited so long for.

How long has he waited? The game isn't clear, but considering Barnabas spoke of the destruction of Dezmekys and was almost maniacal about how long he and the souls within him had been waiting for Mythos...I'm inclined to believe Barnabas has been Odin for a long time. It certainly explains the ease with which he uses the Eikon's power.

Barnabas' ruling over Waloed and the surrounding villages in Ash was something of an iron fist scenario -- he made sure the people followed the religion of the Circle of Malius, and took all those bearing the Mothercrystals' blessing of magic and effectively trained them to be nothing more than mindless weapons...or fodder for the beasts they sought to use on the battlefield. He made sure to drill into his people the desire to give themselves wholly to their God, so that when they time came they would willingly give in to their faith and turn Akashic as he had. He was ordered to cut Clive's connections to his allies, to be certain, but ultimately found they served Ultima's purposes far better if they remained, as they made Clive stronger for a time. Still, he did encourage Clive to let go of his human side, social connections and all, even as he fell into a battle high during their fight.

In fact, the only time we see Barnabas be truly himself is during his final fight with Clive, in the midst of his battle high. A man who enjoys combat and pushing himself to higher heights...he might have made a fine ally, once, and perhaps a dangerous rival. But that was before he made his final choice and gave his all to Ultima.

Barnabas did everything he could to ensure that the world his master wanted came to fruition, and died at the hands of the man he and Ultima had eagerly waited for.

Vholran and Barnabas may look similar, but considering the above? Not the same person. Barnabas willingly gave up his will where Vholran clung to his; Vholran uses ice while Barnabas calls on the power of darkness. If Barnabas was anything like Vholran, he would have chafed at Ultima's commands, trying to find ways around them that would benefit him more than the so-called god -- maybe even to make himself god and Mythos in the place of Ultima and Clive. Which would've turned FF16 more into a race of who got all the powers first before Barnabas would die at Clive's hands and give him the rest of the powers he was missing, rather than the plot we got.

By contrast, if Vholran was like Barnabas, he would've accepted his role with the same grace and mindless loyalty that the Akashic vampire gave his master, and instead of berating Alphen for the bonds he had, he would have berated Alphen for not following orders and giving the Helganquil more trouble than they needed.

(And considering that Vholran and Alphen were both changed for the final goal of the villain of their story...I'd argue that makes them more like a first and second Mythos than a proper Odin copy. Just another point of difference.)

Barnabas and Vholran would've grated each other's nerves to no end, I guarantee it. The only story they share is their appearance and some of the broader setting points. It's truly the details that set them apart.

#cross' rambling #cross' anaylsis #character analysis #tales of arise #ff16 #ff16 spoilers #final fantasy 16 #final fantasy 16 spoilers #ffxvi #ffxvi spoilers #final fantasy xvi #final fantasy xvi spoilers #barnabas tharmr #vholran

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late-to-the-magnus-archives · 1 year

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Vintage

An AU Somewhere Else - part of the Magnus Monsterverse series.

Spoilers for the whole podcast.

I stared.

Peter was older. Harder. Still as a rock and distinctly unfriendly. This was a Peter who had ended the world, and not found it to his liking when his god fed on him at the last. Did he know that I had…

"So I supposed that makes us even, if I understand correctly from Martin’s tale?” he said, still sounding just as chipper and utterly charming as he’d always been (such a lie, such shiny scales on a venomous snake), which was unnerving from a face like stone, which was—

I knew.

I knew exactly how he'd killed me.

AO3

---------

We watched Face Off. We ate popcorn. We laughed. I remained baffled as to the state of the entertainment industry.

Tim went home. We still weren’t good, but this helped.

I stayed in Martin’s flat.

We rested. We knew peace.

I absolutely blew off the rest of the week. Physical therapy and counseling sessions were required with Sasha, but I hardly minded those. I returned to my apartment literally to grab clothing and my toothbrush. There wasn’t anything else there that belonged to me, and even those things barely did.

(What kind of a god has to brush their teeth? It was obvious nonsense. I was a monster, not a god.)

Was I allowed to stay with Martin? I did not give a damn, neither did he, and nobody tried to stop me.

I knew I had things to do, decisions on the horizon. I’d need to find a job. I’d need to talk to Manuela. I’d need to determine what my future would be.

Right now, I still barely felt like a person. I had Martin, but I would not ask him to fill my life. That wouldn’t be fair to him, or healthy for either of us.

I also needed to make friends with Martin’s friends. I’d never been good at that; but he was right—no one else in this world could understand what I’d been through, my decisions and my regrets, my shock and fear of my undeserved second chance.

That involved actually hanging out with them, which I had yet to do. Martin hadn’t pushed; I watched, though, as they all did hang out.

There was some kind of grouping out in the courtyard every single night. Sometimes just a couple of people (often Jane—to whom I still needed to speak—and Sarah), and sometimes larger collections. Sometimes someone produced foldable tables, and they enjoyed a picnic atmosphere—multiple faces I’d known, or known through statements, laughing and chatting over red plastic cups like they were just people.

People who had, I’d come to know, not only ended their worlds, but also, all killed me or seen me killed.

I was so afraid.

Therapy was… interesting.

I admitted to still losing myself once in a while. Martin put up with me, my panting moments of terror, my slips when I stared into space, seeing things that were not here. With my tears when I came out of those moments, gasping like a fish.

I… admitted I missed my own personal hell, just a little.

This new life was better in every way, but the Eye had made that for me, and the security of knowing everything and parsing nothing carried its own brand of peace.

False peace. I would not go back.

I still missed it.

“Normal,” Sasha told me during our sessions. “Everyone misses it—the power. The completion. I remember that, too. Our Fears rewarded us… until we were all that was left, and we became the meal.”

I could only nod along there. I couldn’t answer. The Eye hadn’t done that to me.

I had not been fed on. Obviously It had stayed solvent somehow, but I hadn’t suffered. Was I wrong? Were some of the others lying?

I couldn’t be unique in this. That was nonsense. The Eye was one of the Dread Powers. Others among this community had ended the world for the Eye (including three Gerry Keays—all of whom, I had been told, opted out of everything and moved to different continents to get away from us and each other).

The Eye had fed on them. Or they’d said It had.

I had so many questions. Seeking answers put me in danger. I didn’t know what to do.

In Martin’s mailbox, we both received an invitation. Formal, embossed on thick paper, it cordially urged us to attend Mike Crew’s birthday party.

It would be held at the Lukases’ home.

Peter Lukas existed here.

“I killed him in my life,” I whispered, “and I did that because he kidnapped you!”

“I know. I was there,” he said patiently, having already worked through the madness of a mirrored universe. “This one hasn’t done anything to me, though.”

I flung my arms in the air. “How can you be fine with this?”

“You know why.” He took advantage of my opening to slide his arms around me, pressing me to his chest. “They’re not in bed with Leitner. They don’t have Solus Shipping. They’re not even shitty landlords, believe it or not—the way they feed the Lonely is by leasing enormous apartments for reasonable prices with the caveat that you can’t have roommates, spouses, or even pets. One person, rattling around like a pea in a can. Completely by choice. They can leave whenever; they often don’t, choosing lower rent over community, and that’s enough to feed the Lonely in this place. That’s how they do it.”

“They can leave?”

“Yes. The leases are only six months.”

It sounded too good to be true. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

“You can. Besides, it’s for Mike, and I want you to get to know him. He’s not bad.”

“He’s a sociopath,” I pointed out.

“Yes, he is,” said Martin. “But that doesn’t make him evil. Besides—we’re all a little broken.”

“Says the water-breathing man to the man made of eyeballs,” I muttered. “I suppose you’re right.”

He nuzzled me. “We won’t be there long.”

“This is so… surreal,” I said. I only felt that more strongly when Martin showed me the gift he’d picked up. “When did you get that?”

“Months ago,” he said.

“I really am stepping into a show ‘already in progress,’ aren’t I?”

“I swear, it’s a good thing. We’ve already worked out all the hard stuff.”

I doubted that.

I let Martin unbutton the top two buttons of my shirt (scandalous), and off we went.

Their home was in central London, on Acacia road, nothing like the Moorland House in Kent, and I was completely unprepared for it.

It was smaller, for one thing (about six thousand square feet, the Eye informed me, and only seven bedrooms).

The front was inviting red brick and ordinary windows; it was surrounded by greenery and not quite enough parking. Similar homes sat all around, in full view. Some had been chopped up into flats; others still held single families, judging by the toys and occasional playsets.

It was a far cry from the cold mausoleum the Lukases of my world owned. Also, there was no sign of a graveyard.

Jared dropped us off in front, tipped his hat, and left.

Music pounded through the windows. I swore I could feel it in my feet.

“Steady,” said Martin.

I was very steady. I was rock-solid. I was seeing the Lonely sliding over this place like some sentient ooze, a washed-out sea-foam green, far more active than I could understand, and yet far more weak.

It was different. How could it be so different?

“Uh,” I said.

Martin waited.

I knew, at that moment, that if I wanted to go home, he’d go with me. He’d abandon however much time and effort he’d spent building up a rapport here, and he’d go with me.

But this had cost him. I couldn’t do that. “All right,” I whispered.

He looked so relieved that I felt guilty for hesitating. “Thank you,” he said, held me tight, and rang the doorbell.

For the life of me, I don’t know who answered it.

A person. Someone who smiled blandly and possibly had a gender, though they may have not, leaving only an impression of pale skin and ash-blond hair and eyes the color of meltwater. I couldn’t even recall their voice the moment we turned away. I believe we were welcomed inside?

Copy and paste that several times, and you have the Lukases in cameo.. They managed to be more identical than the actual doubles of people where I lived.

A bizarre gathering. Mike was there, of course, and as striking in this crowd as the lightning that scarred him. He was slightly drunk, and flirting outrageously with everybody.

When he succeeded with a Lukas, they briefly came into focus—winter colors blushing pink, pulse starting up again like an engine revving. A game. He was playing a game, and since it was his birthday, they were letting him. Utterly outré. I didn’t even—

“Well, if it isn’t the newest member of the family!” Mike proclaimed, looking right at me.

There was nothing quite like a dozen unreadable faces, identical sets of blue eyes, looking toward me, and feeling completely, utterly isolated when they did. The Lonely may have been different here, but it was no less effective. “Hi, Mike. Um. May I call you Mike?”

He snorted. “Uh, yeah. I think we’re past that. Come here, buddy.” And then before I had a chance to protest, he wrapped his arm around my shoulders, pulled me in, and pressed a glass into my hand. “Drink that,” he said.

I eyed it. “What is this?”

“What, you don’t just know?” he teased.

For the life of me, I could not tell if I were being mocked, or if he were genuinely asking. However, the Eye was ready to tell me. So eager. Practically bouncing like a child in my head, though that image made absolutely no sense.

Fuck it. It was just a cocktail. “It’s a boulevardier. It first appeared in Paris, detailed in American expatriate bartender Harry McElhone’s 1927 guide, Barflies and Cocktails, but over time became credited to and associated with Erskine Gwynne—himself an American expatriate and nephew of railroad tycoon Alfred Vanderbilt—and named for the magazine Gwynne edited, called The Boulevardier, which—” I finally realized I was rambling and stopped, face on fire, forcibly reminded again of emulsions and a party for Martin which I still could not recall.

Mike laughed and took the drink away (seeming not to notice my relief). “Now, that’s a party trick! Fuckin’ forget making bulbs light up!” he said, and downed it, throwing his head back.

“Bulbs light up?” I said.

He grinned and swapped the empty glass for an ordinary light bulb (it was the style known as “squirrel,” with LED filament), and in his hand, it simply… turned on.

I gawked. “You can do that?”

“Adorable,” said Mike, who wasn’t slurring, but seemed like he should’ve been. “Can I keep him?”

“No,” said Martin, sounding amused, which at least told me this was all in good fun. I hoped, anyway.

“You sure? He thinks making bulbs light up is neat, he’ll love what comes next.”

“I’m sure,” said Martin.

Mike patted me on the back again. “Thanks for coming. Great to see you climbing out of the cave.” He hesitated. Grinned. Looked at Martin. “The honeymoon suite?”

“Don’t be crude,” said Martin.

Also, we were not married. Also, now I was thinking about married. The unseen eyeballs pretending to be my stomach fluttered like moths.

“Right, right. No dirty jokes. I’m a good boy. On you go,” said Mike, who had definitely had quite a few boulevardiers.

Martin put his arm around me and led me away. “There, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” he murmured. “I mean. Apart from the end there, but he has to be really drunk to say that stuff.”

“The gift,” I muttered.

“Oh! I forgot. One second.” He turned back. “Mike!” And he tossed it.

Drunk or no, Mike caught the box right out of the air. “What’s this?”

“Happy birthday from us,” Martin chirped.

Mike unwrapped it quickly, letting bits of paper flutter obnoxiously to the floor. In his hands was a vintage toy—an airplane (from Dinky Toys and manufactured by Meccano LTD, the Eye informed me, #A4 model, a die-cast long-range bomber). He stared.

Martin looked so proud. “Like it?”

“How did you… you found one?” said Mike, and then he did the strangest thing. He cradled it against his chest like it was precious.

“Yep,” said Martin.

Mike sniffled.

All around, our faceless audience showed no sign of anything, no response, nothing but that distancing gaze, and I pressed into Martin a little.

“Thanks,” said Mike, subdued. “Wow.”

“What a thoughtful gift!” said a bright voice I had heard before, but never that young. “Never thought you’d find one of those! Most of them got melted down, you know. Or do you? I do forget what you know and don’t know, you young people!”

But he was a young people. That was a young Simon Fairchild standing behind us, blond hair fashionably ruffled, distinctly tanned and fit, his sleeves rolled back, his shirt offering a kiss and a wave to the concept of buttoned-up. He smiled like a cartoon, eyes nearly shut with the enthusiasm of it.

“Hello,” said Martin, less enthusiastic.

“Ooh,” said Simon as though he’d only just noticed me. “Mister Sims! Well, I haven’t seen you in years! Or a version of you, anyway.”

“Simon, please don’t be an ass today,” said Martin.

“Rude! I can’t come over and say hello to your new friend? We all know how you’ve missed him!”

They did?

I had a good handle on things at this point (despite the fact that the Vast kept him young, with which I would not now wrestle). “Let me guess: you killed me in your world?”

“Oh, not at all,” said Simon, and thumbed over his shoulder at someone I had not seen. “He did.”

And one of the Lukas nothings solidified into Peter.

I stared.

He was older. Harder. Still as a rock and distinctly unfriendly. This was a Peter who had ended the world, and not found it to his liking when his god fed on him at the last. Did he know that I had…

“So I supposed that makes us even, if I understand correctly from Martin’s tale?” he said, still sounding just as chipper and utterly charming as he’d always been (such a lie, such shiny scales on a venomous snake), which was unnerving from a face like stone, which was—

I knew.

(Knew how he’d killed me knew WHEN he’d killed me knew HOW)

(When I’d gone to rescue Martin and I’d damn near done it and he just—)

(Not even as an Avatar, not even for his god, he’d physically attacked me, held me down in the water of his Lonely realm, drowned me there in bubbles and pink froth, staining his paradise forever with presence of another, and grew so enraged, so angry that I’d “made” him do it that he killed Martin afterward even though he hadn’t had to—)

(He’d killed—)

That wasn’t my Martin, and I did not fucking care.

Something must have crossed my face. I don’t know what it was. I don’t know what I did. But Peter Lukas changed. His eyes went wide; he took a step back, all that hardness vanishing under the soft and fragile humanity of fear.

“Now, now, hold on there,” said Simon, stepping between us, hands up, smiling as though we’d begun arguing over sports scores. “Nobody here is dead. We’ve all had our little gaffes, but we all have a second chance!” He clapped his hands twice, sharply, and a young woman appeared at his side (Anna Cotter, 23, scion of the Vash, adopted as Fairchild) with a tray and more drinks. “It would be a dread shame to waste such a thing, wouldn’t it?” he said, distributing alcohol.

Peter chugged his, then tried to disappear.

Simon reached into nothing and pulled him back, hand around his arm. “None of that, now. We all have to get along—so we are going to get along.”

And there was a glimpse of the oldest man in the world, the avatar kept alive for hundreds upon hundreds of years, who’d survived all Hunters, who’d survived every iteration of Gertrude, who’d survived it all: hard. Unyielding as the ground he so shunned.

Though I supposed… now, I was older. Technically.

Peter’s mouth was a hard line, but he just nodded. “Apologies,” he said, absolutely cheerful. “Not my best impression, eh? Haha! Silly me.”

The contrast between expression and tone was giving me whiplash, but I needed to rein it in, too. “Not at all, Peter,” I said. “I owe one, as well. I’m… still fresh out of the creche, as it were, and I… well, it’s not an excuse. I’m sorry.”

He looked baffled. I wasn’t sure why.

“Out of the creche! What delightful phrasing.” Simon toasted my glass (not waiting for me to offer it). “To your surviving!” he said. “And may we all continue to do so.”

“Hear, hear,” said Martin, and toasted me. His green eyes were warm; not accusatory, or disappointed, or shocked, or scared.

He loved me. He loved me so much, and in that, I could find stability I’d never known before I met him.

I smiled. I toasted him. And I drank.

Peter watched me like a hawk.

I watched him like an eyeball.

Simon kept flitting between us, telling wild stories (if any of what he said was true, Thomas Pelham-Holles, whom I’d always thought was mediocre at everything, was in fact quite the debauchee behind closed doors), and honestly keeping everyone entertained.

Eyeballs could, apparently, get buzzed, and after about an hour, I was relaxed in spite of it all.

Mike told some stories of his own; it seemed in his world, he’d joined the military and been a paratrooper (which is how he fell in love with the Vast—a tale he did not now tell, but which I knew involved a broken parachute a much longer fall than was possible), and soon had us all rooting for the ridiculous family of dogs he’d kept hidden during his time in Afghanistan.

A mother, six pups, and presumably the father dog (though really, who could say), all of whom survived on bits of his rations and water he was able to sneak them (he briefly mentioned he took care of their waste as subtly as he could), and only was caught by a bunkmate at the very end of his tour.

By then, he’d made friends with locals (he could be charming, sociopath or not), and managed to foist all the dogs off before his superior officer came to check on this supposed disallowed situation. Evidently, finding no evidence of dogs (and given Mike’s ability to lie), he ended up getting off scot-free, and his tattler got latrine duty for a month.

Was it all true? Yes, oddly enough. Was it funny? Gods, yes. Maybe I was more buzzed than I thought. I don’t know, but I ended up… enjoying it, and laughed along with everyone else.

We didn’t end up leaving until nearly four in the afternoon. Half the Lukases had cleared out (which I could tell only because it felt much less awful), and Mike was finally all but carried out by Anne, her arm around his waist, singing some bawdy song he’d learned overseas.

But with those two gone, this house was too much. It felt cavernous; it felt like we were in Siberia, not on a busy London street.

“Martin, I… I want to go now,” I said.

“Yes,” he said, and we walked for the door.

Peter got in the way.

Great. We were going to fight? Now what was going to happen? “Hello?” I said.

“You know, I’ve been watching you all night,” he said. “You’re really something of a… hm, what’s the word for it? What do you think, Martin? A great big dork? That works, doesn’t it?”

I sputtered. “What did you say?”

Martin laughed. “My dork. You can’t have him.” (He might have had a few too many, himself.)

“Oh, I don’t want him. I just finally felt comfortable saying that he’s not—you’re not, I wouldn’t want to pretend you aren’t here—the same as the one I knew.”

“Eh?” I said. “In what way?”

“That old fellow thought he knew absolutely everything, and was about as arrogant about it as you can imagine. Even Elias couldn’t stand him,” said Peter, far too brightly for the subject matter. “He wasn’t even afraid when he… well. He wasn’t even afraid, which is why I did what I did.”

Martin looked like he was going to ask precisely what Peter did—for the details, for the story of what happened. I couldn’t let him do that. Couldn’t hear Peter say what I already knew, so…

I bit him on the shoulder. Not hard, or anything!

Martin jumped and blinked at me.

I had no idea why I’d gone for that option, but… well, it was done. “You did what you did because I wasn’t afraid?” I said to Peter.

“He wasn’t.”

I was. A distinction. “So the Lonely… hadn’t marked me?”

Peter snorted. “Almost nothing had. Eye, obviously. The Corruption. The Desolation. That was it.”

I gawked at him. “That was it?” No wonder Elias had hated me. I’d ruined all his plans.

Peter swayed on his feet. “I think we should talk, Archivist. Seems to me there are things we could learn from each other.”

“I’m not so sure that’s a good idea,” I muttered.

“You also just bit your boyfriend on the shoulder instead of saying, ‘please don’t say what you were going to say,’ so maybe let’s sober up before making any hard decisions, yeah?”

My face burned. “How did you know that I…”

“It was on your face, wasn’t it? You’re wonderfully expressive.”

Not the first time I’d heard that. Whatever small subtlety I’d once had clearly had been lost somewhere over the past thousand years.

Peter was still going. "Not a hardship to watch, is he, Martin?"

“No, he’s not at all,” said Martin fervently.

“I have no idea what possessed me to bite you,” I muttered. “Is the tooth fairy… real?”

And Peter Lukas laughed. He laughed as though he couldn’t believe what he heard, and then he’d not only accepted it, but chosen to enjoy it. Then he stepped backward, into mist, losing detail, losing individuality; he was just a Lukas, vague, eerie, and then he was completely gone.

“It wasn’t that funny,” I muttered. “It’s a different world. Maybe there is a tooth fairy here.”

“If there is, Jared would probably know,” Martin said, taking out his phone to summon the man. “Speaking of. Hey. Want to go bite me some more?” And he grinned.

We all needed to sober up. “Let’s at least go home and figure it out from there.”

“Marvelous,” said Martin.

And then my phone rang.

I’d had it for two days. Sasha had given it to me in our last session, explaining that they were happy to loan it until I could figure out my own situation—and since it was damn near impossible to get a job without one, this was absolutely on offer.

Nice.

I had three whole numbers in it: Sasha’s, Martin’s, and emergency services. (I like to be prepared. Not that I think they’d know what to do with a man made of eyeballs, but that wasn’t the point.)

I wanted to add Tim’s, but… I needed to ask him in person for that. I wasn’t just going to do it. I didn’t have that right.

At any rate, all that meant was I had no idea whose number this was. “Hello?” I said as we stood, swaying on the curb, waiting for Jared to arrive.

“Jon,” said Manuela. “I need you here. Right away. May I come get you?”

“Uh,” I said, feeling sluggish. “I, uh. Just had some alcohol?”

“So?” said Manuela. “That shouldn’t affect you. You don’t even need oxygen anymore.”

“Well, it did,” I said, mildly huffy.

“I’m guessing you wanted it to,” she said. “Can I come pick you up? I need you here.”

“I want Martin,” I said, feeling petulant. I was absolutely drunk, and… maybe she was right. But what did that mean? I could make myself feel how I wanted?

“I mean… sure? But this is about Jonah Magnus.”

Sobriety hit like a truck.

Buzz gone. Warmth gone. Pleasure gone.

“Jon?” said Martin. “You just went green. Are you all right?”

“I love you,” I said to him. “Please go home. I have to go to Manuela. It’s about Jonah Magnus.”

Martin’s jaw tightened. “I should come with you.”

“I don’t know if it’s safe,” I said, softly. “Gods, I can’t… what if it isn’t?”

“It should be?” said Manuela. “I mean, unless Jonah shoots lasers out of his eyes, or something, but that’s highly improbable.”

I looked at Martin.

He kissed me. (I don’t know if Manuela knew that was happening. She remained patient, quiet, until we were done, until my jitters settled, until I calmed.) “I trust you,” he said. “I can go home. I trust you.”

The me he’d known had murdered Jonah. These words, from him, now, were…

I swallowed around the lump in my throat. Tears stung. “All right,” I whispered to her. “I’m outside the Lukases’ home.”

“Oh, that makes it easy,” she said, and a gaping hole appeared in the air just down the street before she’d even hung up. She waved, closing it behind her apparently with the power of her mind, still holding the phone to her ear. “Here!”

I looked at Martin.

“I’m a proper monster now,” he said, smile weak but true. “If anybody bothers me, I can just throw them into the Lonely. I’ll be fine.”

“Promise if some Hunter or something comes along, you won’t do that. You’ll just run.”

“All right. I promise,” he said. “Cross my heart and—”

“Don’t you dare finish that.”

She’d nearly reached us. “Gods, you two are cute. I ship. Come on, now.”

“You… what?” I said. The Eye told me what she meant. I sighed, hand over my face.

“He’s close,” said Martin, checking his phone. “Off you go.”

“I love you,” I said, following Manuela, looking at him over my shoulder.

“I love you,” he said back.

“You’ll see him again,” said Manuela, and another portal opened.

“You’re really just opening those in front of God and everyone?” I said.

“They can’t see them,” she said. “Only people touched as we are by the Fears can. Only people who’ve been… involved to that level.”

“Oh.” I blinked. “Wait. Why?”

“I’ll be happy to show you, but we need to go. If we wait, we’ll have to let another cycle go by before we can fetch him. I need you now, Jon.”

“Cycle?”

Manuela waited, half in and half out of her dark circle.

I could not see her other half. I could not see what was on the other side. It was impenetrable to me, at least… unless I tried to see through it, and I didn’t want to do that. That felt risky.

But I could see Manuela. She meant no harm. This was the Manuela she’d been before Rayner got hold of her; curious, brilliant, lively. No bitterness; none of the simmering anger that damned the entire world to the dark.

I trusted her, and so, eyes wide, I took a deep breath, and finally stepped through her portal.

-------

NOTES:

yeah, @ggracee's Simon is the one in my head for this fic. I am not taking feedback at this time.

#tma #tma fic #tma spoilers #tma au #post mag 200 #somewhere else #monster!jon #monster!martin #peter lukas #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jmart #teaholding #jonmartin #magpod #magnuspod #magnus monsterverse

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