#have a wonderful day and year ahead!! <33< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[clarabowmp3]

see it in my mind, let's fulfil the prophecy

HAPPY BIRTHDAY CLEO @thegreatimpersonatorr !

[darkmatilda]

𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐤𝐞 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: two years ago, completely by accident, you helped catch a serial killer. now, as mysterious events start to pile up around you, you begin to suspect that someone is after you, seeking revenge. terrified, you're willing to do anything to save yourself—even if it means reaching out to your ex, who wants nothing more to do with you.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐰: [these warnings only apply to part 1!] spencer reid x criminal(thief)female!reader, stalking, mention of dismembered bodies, serial killer targeting women, mention of abduction, mention of mental issues and addiction of the victim, reader is kinda morally grey

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 6k

𝐚/𝐧: HUGE THANKS to my beloveds from the server who have been listening to me yap about this fic for the past few days!!! a few of my dear girls show up here as characters, in this part it’s @esote-rika i hope you like the role i chose for you <33

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄

You hadn’t dreamt about it for almost a year now.

Before, that image had returned to your dreams regularly. A small, wooden vacation cabin in the woods—far enough from the bustle of the city to feel like a retreat, but close enough to avoid the unease that comes with complete isolation. An operation that had required you and your then-partners to meticulously study the owner’s weekly routine, gathering as much information about him as possible. There was no pressure of time—it was a place for vacations or lazy weekends, not for everyday living.

You had no trouble breaking in without even damaging the lock. You had your methods. The owner was due to arrive soon and discover that the painting in the small living room was gone. You wondered if he even understood its historical value. Wealthy people often liked to fill their properties with expensive works of art to catch the eyes of their guests and dazzle them with their price tags. But they rarely cared about the context or the circumstances of their creation. Often, if the artist was foreign, they could barely pronounce their name.

You liked labeling every person you robbed as ignorant. It gave you more motivation.

Your partners had immediately located the painting, while you started looking around the interior yourself. There could be more valuable items—jewelry or antique furniture. Once, during a robbery, you had been about to retreat when you found a hidden door leading to a basement, which turned out to be practically a vault. That year, you booked your dream vacation.

This time, you were heading down the stairs again, shining your flashlight ahead. The beam of light didn’t fall on a bust, a leaning painting, or an Art Deco dresser. It illuminated the battered face of a woman, bound as though she weren’t a living being, teetering on the edge of unconsciousness.

The waitress set a plate of pancakes in front of you, but you suddenly regretted ordering them. Your stomach was still in knots after seeing that image again in your dreams. You’d gone out for breakfast because you had no plans for the day and didn’t want to spend it entirely cooped up in your apartment. You adjusted yourself in the leather booth. The place had a 90s vibe, with its black-and-white checkered floor, red seating, and curly straws poking out of milkshakes topped with double whipped cream.

A cop slid into the booth next to yours with a sigh, ordering waffles with bacon. Out of habit, you tensed up slightly. As a member of the criminal underworld—a thief and active dealer of antique goods—you weren’t a fan of even fleeting interactions with people who carried handcuffs on their belts. You much preferred gold bracelets.

"...abandoned body parts of an unidentified woman were found along the shore of Neabsco Creek in Prince William County. This exceptionally brutal crime immediately sparked panic within the local community, following a series of murders that had occurred here just two years earlier. It was right on this riverbank that the limbs of the last victim of the killer were found before his capture…”

“The Waterside Butcher,” the cop to your left muttered, mouth full of waffles. “I don’t know if you heard, but that guy’s a real piece of work. Fuckin' psycho. But it ain’t him now—they got him locked up good.”

Thank you for sharing that unsolicited nugget of information I didn’t ask for, officer, you thought, as you remained silent. You didn’t want to engage in any confrontational interactions with the police. In fact, you couldn’t physically speak—you had a chunk of pancake stuck in your mouth, swelling up like a soaked sponge, and you had to spit it out onto your plate.

The cop shot you a look of disgust before turning his attention back to the waitress, bragging about his knowledge of the crime details. He even mispronounced the killer’s name. Robert Miller, not Roger. The man whose vacation cabin you broke into two years ago. The one whose basement you found a woman imprisoned in. The one you reported to the police, even though that meant exposing what you’d been doing in his house. Your case quickly ended up in the hands of the BAU profilers, who used your testimony and connected it to a serial killer they had been hunting for a long time, one who always dumped his female victims along the banks of water sources.

They even offered you a deal. Your testimony, and in exchange, you were only charged with one burglary, one attempted theft. They completely ignored the dozens of others that had happened before.

So, it could be said that you helped them catch The Waterside Butcher.

The cop was right about one thing. Thirteen murders, and he was locked up for the next few lifetimes. So, it had to be either a copycat or...

But if someone like that escaped from prison, would the public even know about it?

Your nightmare hit again. Right on that night. A bad feeling?

Your phone rang.

"Hey, Mrs. Hemingway," you greeted your older neighbor from the floor below, the one you’d swapped numbers with when you were helping her settle in after her hip surgery and taking care of her poodle. You were surprised she was calling you. "Everything okay?"

"Sweetheart, I told you to just call me Erika," she said gently on the other end, her voice carrying a note of tension. "I’m just calling to let you know you're flooding my floor again. Haven’t you fixed that sink yet?"

"Shit," you muttered under your breath. "I’ll be there in a sec. Sorry, Mrs...Erika, that this happened again."

You left the almost untouched pancakes on the plate and walked out of the restaurant, heading toward your building. You’d been moving around a lot because of your line of work, and this place had been home for maybe three months now. For about two weeks, something strange had been happening with the sink in your kitchen. You’d return late at night to find the floor completely flooded, leaking down to the apartment below, where Mrs…Erika lived. It happened every few days, almost regularly. After the second time, you hired someone to fix it, but he said everything was fine with the faucet. Either you kept forgetting to turn it off, or…you just couldn’t come up with a better explanation.

Oddly enough, that wasn’t what occupied your mind on your way back to the apartment.

Your thoughts were consumed by the murder case. You couldn’t help it; everything related to it made you uneasy. During the trial, you’d heard all the details of the crimes he’d committed. You’d seen photos of torsos of women, abandoned in various places, along with their legs and arms. You’d listened as the handsome profiler explained the psychology behind it all. How he lowered his voice with a comforting care, assuring you there was no chance he would ever get out of prison. You nodded, having no reason not to believe him. It was him who proposed the deal you took – keeping your earlier crimes under wraps in exchange for your testimony.

You made a mental note to check in on how Rebekah was doing later. You were the one who saved her, though you didn’t particularly like using that word—after all, you’d ended up there by accident. You kept in touch, but it was hard to call it friendship. You were bound by the situation in which she almost became just another limbless victim. You didn’t have much in common, but she had struggled a lot after that event, and you wanted to make sure she was okay. It was kind of like womanhood. 

The first thing you did when you got back to your small but quite stylishly furnished apartment in a nondescript neighborhood was to turn off that damn sink. And then, you offered a heartfelt apology to Erika. In return, you promised to walk her poodle for a week.

“No need, darling,” she assured you, standing in the doorway of her apartment. She was an elegant woman, a fashion enthusiast. Dressed in a gray plaid skirt and a cleverly cut blouse with a tie at the neckline, large black earrings dangled from her ears. Sometimes when she went out, she wore a matching black bowler hat. Behind her, the poodle was frantically wagging its tail, excited to see you. “The doctor recommended I get plenty of walking. I take Coco out every day at eight for an hour. Just the cost for the flooded ceiling is fine.”

You agreed, silently promising yourself that you’d order her a massive bouquet of flowers in the coming days. But for now, you headed back to your apartment, walking straight to the bedroom where you kept a locked chest of drawers… and inside, an album of photos. And within those photos, a substantial amount of cash. Since your income didn’t come from legitimate sources, you steered clear of banks like the plague. You counted out the sum you planned to give Erika—more than she probably expected. But before you could lock the chest again, your fingers automatically grabbed the album. It wasn’t just money in there; you liked to capture moments in photos, and you had plenty of them. You always took them with you when you moved.

The first page showed several pictures from your early childhood, chubby cheeks, dreamy eyes. You quickly turned the page, then another…

Your fingers clenched tightly, even though your mind hadn’t fully processed what you’d just seen. You shook your head, thinking it was just your imagination playing tricks on you.

A photo of a little girl on her first bike. Her face should have been expressing joy, a toothless smile. Instead, all that was there was white, emptiness. A cut-out section.

With furrowed brows, you continued flipping through the album, almost in a trance. If every photo had missing pieces like that, it would’ve been easier to understand. But this was just one photo out of hundreds, one little girl without a face…

A graduation photo. You should have been smiling, hugging your friends. But your face was missing. Your breath caught in your chest. A trip with friends—your face cut out. A beach day, devoid of your face. Not every photo had been altered, but almost every stage of your life captured in that album had at least one case like this. It was as if someone was trying to erase you completely.

You stopped at the point where you had stopped taking as many photos. The last few were from your previous relationship. It hadn’t lasted long, but you had particularly enjoyed taking pictures of Spencer Reid, the profiler who had worked on your case. His brown hair, wide eyes in surprise because he hadn’t known you were sneaking up on him with the camera, the dimple in his cheek when he smiled, filled several good pages. There weren’t many good photos. He looked amazing in spontaneous shots, but in posed ones, his smile was always awkward, stiff.

That photo wasn’t one of your favorites. It had been taken by some stranger during your little vacation in Rome. Spencer had been wearing a light linen shirt, his arm wrapped around your waist. You remembered exactly how you’d stood on your tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek, only to cringe a moment later—having just slathered him with sunscreen, you tasted that bitter aftertaste in your mouth. A smile flashed across his face at that, and he adjusted his arm around you, smoothing your heat-fluffed hair behind your ear. So many perfect angles for a picture you could have stared at for hours, but that stranger had only snapped one. You both looked like an engaged couple who had never spoken to each other before, and to make matters worse, it looked like the family expected six kids from you both.

Your face had been cut out of it.

You slammed the album shut and tossed it into the drawer. A gust of wind blew the money meant for Erika onto the floor, but you didn’t care. What did you care about? There was nothing in your mind. A temporary, filling emptiness, growing with every beat of your heart.

Your body moved toward the window on its own, discreetly peering behind the curtain. A black car pulled away from the driveway, followed by a red one, and then a gray one. Could it be…?

No, you hadn’t looked at that album for several days. At least not to review the pictures. They might have been damaged before, and you only noticed it now. You didn’t know which version of events scared you more.

The voice of the news anchor played in your head like a true-crime podcast, describing a recently discovered body with far more gruesome details than in reality. The return of The Waterside Butcher, the one you helped catch. A break-in at your apartment (you hadn’t done it yourself, had you, in your sleep?) almost at the same time?

A twist of fate? A stupid coincidence?

For a moment, you paced around the apartment, thinking. Robert Miller was a serial killer of women, whose capture had been made possible by a woman who broke into his home. If—purely hypothetically—he escaped prison, wouldn’t he be driven by a certain kind of hatred directed specifically at her? A desire to destroy her, more important than anything else?

But that was absurd. You hadn’t cut ties with the case, but surely someone would have informed you if he had escaped. Though…Spencer had been your source of information, and you hadn’t spoken to him since your breakup, over a year ago. You hadn’t been in touch at all since then. So maybe…?

You realized you were standing in something wet. The floor was still flooded from a tap that had been left running.

For the second time this week.

The self-turning sink, this tension, this dream, the cut-out faces, the next murder.

Another brutally killed woman left on the riverbank.

The thought was improbable, yet it refused to leave you alone. It was far more likely that you were dealing with some deranged copycat—after all, it wasn’t uncommon for serial killers to have their admirers. However, that prospect didn’t fill you with nearly as much dread as the idea of being in the crosshairs of this particular man. 

You had to find out if there was even the slightest chance that he was out there, free.

*

“Hands up and turn around, slowly.”

Quick disclaimer—you and Spencer Reid didn’t break up on the most peaceful terms.

Aiming at your head was a bit much, though.

Without a hint of fear, you calmly closed the cabinet in his kitchen, from which you had just taken out a package of brown sugar cinnamon Pop Tarts. You immediately shoved one into your mouth, chewing the sweet bite while staring into the eyes of your ex, who was pointing a gun at you from about four steps away. His hair was longer than you remembered, and there was a trace of stubble around his mouth that caught you off guard. Or rather, how good he looked with it.

“I preferred your old place,” you declared, leaning back against one of the kitchen cabinets. Another bite of Pop Tarts, and a crumb fell onto your clothes. Oops. “Do you even have a microwave here? I could warm this up.”

“How did you get in here?” he asked, clearly irritated.

He still hadn’t lowered the gun, and you were starting to suspect he wasn’t exactly thrilled to see you.

“It’s always how did you get in here?” you sighed, rolling your eyes. “Never what’s up? how are you? your hair looks amazing, did you know that? and that outfit?”

"You wouldn’t be yourself without all that pretentious talk, huh?" he scoffed, finally easing up a bit. His stiff posture, caused by holding the gun, relaxed, and after a beat, he lowered it and tucked it into his waistband. He accidentally pulled back part of his black blazer, revealing a dark purple shirt underneath.

You shoved the rest of the snack into your mouth, wiped your hands off, and swallowed.

"I’d be boring without it. And you wouldn’t be yourself without this overdramatization, right? Aiming at my head like I’m some criminal..."

"You broke into my apartment," he interrupted, folding his arms. It was evening, and if you hadn’t turned on the light before coming in, the place would have been drowning in cold darkness. A little of it slipped through the window that wasn’t fully covered. "I think that’s a pretty good reason to point a gun at someone. So what are you doing here?"

"You were right," you said softly, helplessly spreading your arms. "The path of crime doesn't lead to anything good. I should have listened to you, thrown it all away, and become a model citizen."

Spencer gently nodded, listening to your words. Then, he let out a laugh.

"And seriously?"

"Was I not convincing enough?"

"Did you get yourself into something again and need someone to cover your back? Because there's no better alibi than the words of an FBI agent?"

"Stop acting like I ever forced you into it. You did it on your own."

"Because I didn't want my girlfriend ending up in prison."

A tired sigh escaped you, not expecting it to take just three minutes from the start of your reunion to begin bringing up things from your relationship. Well, the fact that you even got together two years ago still seemed incredibly absurd and enigmatic, especially to outsiders. Let's be honest. An FBI agent and a criminal caught during a break-in for theft. Then, still a criminal, though with good intentions.

You couldn’t help that you didn’t see an end to that career, and you were pretty sure Spencer secretly hoped you'd give it up. During the less than six months of your relationship, you felt as though you were constantly on the police radar, even though he’d never turn you in. What’s more, once or twice, he vouched that you were somewhere else when you weren’t. To put it simply, he gave you a fake alibi.

That was roughly when everything started falling apart, as it slowly dawned on him that he couldn’t change you. Things got even stormier, and one day, after one of the many unpleasant exchanges of words at that stage, you just walked out, slamming the door behind you, and you hadn’t seen each other until now.

 End of the story.

"Listen," Spencer began after a moment of silence. "You broke in here for a reason, and I highly doubt it’s to reminisce. I should just tell you to leave, but out of some remnants of respect for you, I’ll let you say what this is really about."

"Oh, look at you, how gracious," you scoffed bitterly. Remnants of respect. He was right, though. You hadn't come there to reminisce; you were only interested in getting an answer to one specific question. You cleared your throat. "I’m assuming you’ve heard about the discovery on the shore of Neabsco Creek?"

Spencer took a step forward, furrowing his brows slightly. He still kept more than a necessary distance, as if you were the one pointing a gun at him.

"Your assumption is correct," he replied slowly, cautiously. "I just don’t understand the purpose. Do you have any information related to the case?"

Although it didn’t quite fit the topic, the corner of your mouth twitched.

"Are you hoping I’ll help you catch another serial killer?" you asked, immediately shaking your head. "No, I don’t know anything that could be useful to you. But I do have some bad feelings about it."

You saw him gently press his lips together in thought. Almost immediately, he understood where you were going with this and gave a slight nod. His eyes were still analyzing you carefully and distrustfully. You also noticed how carefully he chose his words, as he always did in the presence of someone who could mean trouble.

"Spencer," you said his name for the first time during this conversation, pausing for a moment to think about how it felt on your tongue. You’d almost forgotten. "Is Robert Miller still in prison?"

 "He murdered thirteen women, of course he’s still in prison," he replied with conviction. "And he’ll stay there forever. The body we found... the modus operandi is the same, but only because we’re probably dealing with a copycat."

 "Copycat," you repeated. "And not an accomplice?"

"He didn’t have an accomplice. We figured that out during the investigation."

 "Are you sure?"

 "What exactly are you getting at?" he asked, his voice tinged with genuine confusion, his brow furrowed deeply.

You set the Pop Tarts box down on the counter. You’d thought about it a lot. Few knew about your involvement in the investigation, it hadn’t been made public, just like the exact circumstances surrounding the capture of the suspect. He, however, knew. He’d seen your face in court, heard your name. The entire previous day you had been obsessed with the fact that he probably had the right to correspondence in prison. He might have found a way to inform his potential accomplice about your identity, convincing him to take revenge on his behalf.

"Someone's stalking me," you said casually, as if you were telling him about what you had for lunch that day. "It started right when that murder happened. Just before the body was found on the shore. Someone...cut my face out of photos in my album."

Spencer stood still for a long moment. A look of concern briefly flashed across his face, but it was quickly replaced by something else—skepticism.

"No offense," he began, with a hint of sarcasm in his voice, "but are you sure it’s not just someone from your circles?"

"Even if it is, so what? I'm still being stalked."

"Then, that’s not my problem”

Okay, that was cold.

“If someone from my circles wanted to kill me, they’d just do it. They wouldn’t be sneaking into my apartment, cutting my face out of photos, and turning the water on in my sink. The Waterside Butcher, as the media's calling him,” you tried to sound calm and logical, but your heart began to race as the memory from the dream you’d had two days ago—and the one that came to you last night—hit you. This time, however, you hadn’t found Rebekah in the basement of the house, but yourself. “Something’s not right. I can feel it. You guys should look into this. I mean, BAU. But not as a copycat. As someone connected to Miller."

You could see Spencer mulling over your words. His jaw tightened slightly as he processed what you said.

“Are you getting any real threats?” he asked. “Or is it just a busted sink and…”

“It’s not busted! Someone’s turning it on!” you cut him off, irritation creeping into your voice. “And not just someone—a serial killer I put in prison.”

“And who’s still there.”

You could feel yourself losing track of your own thoughts. Well, you’d barely slept the night before, and your brain wasn’t exactly firing on all cylinders.

“Or his accomplice,” you corrected yourself.

“Or?” Spencer picked up on it, raising an eyebrow.

You shrugged, frustrated by his calmness.

"Well, sometimes you catch the wrong person," you said uncertainly.

Spencer exhaled deeply, briefly staring at the ceiling. You didn’t see the seriousness, the readiness to act, that you’d expected when you showed up at his apartment. There was no declaration that they would take another look at the case, maybe reach out to Miller again and try to get more information from him. The thought crossed your mind—if something like this had happened two years ago, would he have reacted with more urgency?

“I interrogated him two years ago,” he began. “Personally, for many hours, even days. He confessed to everything, nothing in his behavior suggested he was trying to manipulate us. He had a motive—he selected his victims based on their resemblance to his mother, whom he also murdered by pushing her off a boat during a family trip. At the time, it was considered an accident.”

As he spoke, memories of the courtroom and the police station resurfaced, when everything was just starting to come to light. And as he slowly moved closer to you, probably unknowingly, you also recalled the first time you really interacted, when he drove you home. You weren’t innocent, but that day, you had heard some truly horrifying details of the crime, and you felt a distinct unease. For the first time, you talked about something other than the investigation. I’m like Robin, but not like Hood. I rob the rich, but I don’t give to the poor you said, making him laugh.

"Our profile didn't include a partner. Trust me, we've handled plenty of cases where there were two or more perpetrators, but this isn't one of them. One person is responsible for this," he continued, trying to catch your eye, making his words more direct, wanting to make sure they reached you. "If someone's stalking you, it's probably not even connected to this case. And normally, I'd recommend you report it to the police... but I get the feeling that's not really an option."

You scoffed, because he was right.

"Highly unlikely they'd do anything about it. You know, the faucet could always be broken, and the photos...that can be explained away," you said, sitting up suddenly.

"Are you calling me paranoid?" you asked sharply.

"You always have to label things so harshly," he muttered, shaking his head. "No, I’m not saying that. I’m just suggesting that the previous murder and the media panic could have influenced how you're perceiving things, making you more susceptible to suggestion. Your mind has connected it with past traumatic events and added..."

"So, you're saying I'm paranoid. Just in scientific terms," you shot back.

Spencer sighed in frustration.

"Call it whatever you want."

For a moment, you just stared at him in silence, a rush of angry words pushing at the back of your throat, but you realized they didn’t make any sense. Why had you even assumed from the start that he would believe you? Leaving aside the fact that your argument was admittedly a bit stretched, the truth was, you weren’t the person he chose to trust anymore.

You briefly lowered your gaze, letting out a sigh, then lifted it back up as you got closer. Spencer tensed, almost moved to pull away, but quickly realized you weren’t threatening him. You simply reached for his purple shirt, slipping something into the tiny pocket on his chest.

"My current phone number," you explained, tapping that spot on his chest. "In case you find out anything. Oh, and one last thing. Do you remember what shape my birthmark is?"

He tilted his head, surprised by the question, the sudden shift in topic. Without waiting for an answer, you pulled at your shirt slightly, exposing a patch of skin just below your collarbone.

"It’s in the shape of pi, like you once pointed out." It hadn't reminded you of that at all before, just a vague shape, but ever since he'd mentioned it, you'd seen it only that way. And from then on, every time he kissed you, he'd always lingered at that spot for a moment longer—it was his personal, favorite point. You let go of your shirt, and Spencer immediately locked eyes with you.

"I just wanted to make sure you remembered," you added, before turning to leave. "In case I end up dismembered on some shoreline and they need to identify my body."

Spencer’s mouth fell open, unable to say a word.

"You knew it very well," you added casually as you made your way out.

You didn’t need him to escort you. You had gotten there on your own, too. 

*

Three days later, when poor Erika was flooded once again, you decided to take action. You contacted the right people to have the locks in your apartment changed and to secure the place in a way that would make breaking in nearly impossible—at least for an average burglar. You knew, however, that someone with the right skills, like you, could still get in. With difficulty, but it was possible.

You also made sure to refresh your knowledge of handling a gun. 

And you called Rebekah.

You didn’t like scaring her, but you preferred her to stay vigilant. If someone was targeting you, they might just as well try to go after her too. The problem was, she wasn’t answering your calls, despite you trying every hour throughout the day. Shortly after being freed from the murderer’s grasp, she hadn’t taken up any work, and since you were doing relatively well, you had been supporting her financially. Recently, however, she had managed to find a steady job, and that could explain why she wasn’t responding.

Spencer was right about one thing—you were slowly becoming paranoid. That’s exactly why, later that evening, you decided to head over to her address to make sure everything was okay. It wasn’t just about outside threats anymore. It was simply that… Two years was a long time, but not when it came to rebuilding a life after being abducted by a serial killer. Those years had been especially hard for her—there was the added struggle of addiction—and you just wanted the reassurance that she hadn’t done anything to herself. At least then, you’d be able to sleep more soundly—as much as the circumstances would allow.

Her apartment was located in a truly awful neighborhood, on the second floor of a stairwell covered in graffiti. You knocked on the door several times, pausing between knocks, trying not to panic or come across as aggressive—you didn’t want to scare her.

"Rebekah, are you there?" you called out when no one answered.

You spent a moment leaning against a spray-painted cock on the wall, letting out a sigh as you reached into the pocket of your jacket. The lock on her door was a simple one, requiring only the most basic tools—tools you carried out of habit. You made a mental note to send someone over to replace it.

Even if she wasn’t home, you wanted to take a look around and gauge how she was doing based on the state of the apartment. It wasn’t exactly ethical, but sometimes our surroundings say more about us than words ever could. Besides, there was a good chance she’d never even know you were there.

You stepped inside, calling her name again. The light was already on. Her jacket was hanging on the coat rack, suggesting she was home—but it was also possible she’d just worn a different one. You slipped a wad of cash into the pocket of her jacket. She’d find it later and probably think she’d just forgotten it was there.

The interior had dark green walls, and the apartment consisted of three rooms: a modest living room, a tiny bedroom with just a bed and wardrobe, and a bathroom you’d never been inside before. When you glanced into it, your face reflected in the mirror hanging on the opposite wall. You looked really sleep-deprived.

Finally, you headed to the bedroom, clinging to the faint hope of finding her asleep in bed. The fact that all the lights were on worried you—if she’d gone to work, she would have turned them off. Anyone mindful of their wallet would’ve turned them off!

The bedroom door creaked softly as it closed behind you, leaving just a narrow gap that provided a sliver of a view into the living room, specifically the apartment entrance. That was when you saw it swing wide open.

At first, you wanted to leave the bedroom, assuming it was Rebekah and that you could greet her. But it wasn’t the petite, feminine figure of your short friend—it was a tall man, or so you guessed from his stature, despite the hood obscuring his face. Instinctively, you leapt back from the partially open door, making sure you were out of sight.

Heavy footsteps cut across the apartment, heading, by the sound of it, toward the kitchen area. There, they paused for a moment.

You didn’t even try to convince yourself it was some friend of hers dropping by for a visit. Deep down, you already knew—instinctively felt—who it was. And that thought paralyzed you so completely that, despite the gun tucked under your jacket, you quietly slid open the wardrobe door and squeezed yourself inside.

The door creaked as it moved, and you cursed silently.

Whoever it was, you hoped they were too focused on whatever they were searching for to have heard it.

You listened closely to the footsteps in the room next door, your mind spinning with one relentless question: Where was Rebekah in all this? Was she at work, completely unaware that someone was in her apartment during her absence? You tried to recall the last time the two of you had spoken. Certainly not in the past few days—perhaps not even in the past week.

You squeezed your eyes shut, forcing your breathing to quiet, to steady.

Theoretically, her apartment could’ve been empty for days now.

But who was this man?

The footsteps suddenly grew louder. The bedroom door creaked open. You drew in a sharp breath and froze, halting your breathing altogether. You had no idea how much the tight, dark confines of the wardrobe muffled sound.

The footsteps stopped.

You could only imagine the figure standing in the doorway, his sharp gaze sweeping the room, taking in every detail. Did he sense someone else might be here? He couldn’t know for certain. But it was possible—likely even—that he subconsciously felt another presence, much like you did in your own home every single day.

Fragments of the nightmare that had haunted you over the past few days came rushing back. It felt as if you were descending those stairs into the basement again.

And then a smell wafted through the air—faint but distinct.

It was the same scent you’d inhaled back then.

Two years had passed, but you still remembered that mixture of dust, decay, and sweat.

Were you really smelling it now? Or was it just a cruel projection of your terrified mind?

The footsteps began to retreat.

You listened with your eyes closed, straining every nerve to track the sound. Your legs felt weak, and it took everything in you not to slide down the back wall of the wardrobe.

The sound of the apartment door slamming shut echoed through the silence. Even then, you couldn’t bring yourself to move.

And then your phone rang.

The sudden, sharp sound shattered the fragile quiet, making you choke on a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

Your fingers acted on their own, quickly answering just to silence the noise.

“Hello?” someone said hesitantly, your name hanging in the air like a question. “...It’s Spencer. I’m calling because... something’s happened. And you need to know.”

No.

You tilted your head back, squeezing your eyes shut as if that could block out the reality creeping in.

The silence on your end must have encouraged him to keep talking. You heard the faint sound of him swallowing, the nervous gesture twisting your stomach into knots.

“Robert Miller escaped from prison”

You pressed the phone to your face, even though it was already on speaker. Words tangled in your mind, refusing to form. Spencer said your name twice more, his voice edged with concern, before you finally forced yourself to speak.

“You need to come here,” you croaked, your voice barely recognizable. “Please.”

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐖𝐎

taglist: @she-wont-miss @mggslover @nyeddleblog @dylanobrienswife0420 @wmoony

@heddgie @khxna @marauder-exe-old @yujyujj @charleyreid @kitty-kai @sp3ncelle @pleasantwitchgarden @beesin03 @misserabella @re1dsb1xch @trulymadlydarling @cynbx @penelopegarciaismygf @nachrosas @angellic4l @awordsmith

[g1rld1ary]

new year's day - sirius black x reader

wc: 2608

cw: drinking, smoking, swearing, kissing, r is an anxious overthinker

me: inspired ofc by miss swift. happy happy 2025 lovelies!!!! this was supposed to be out for my new years (it is currently 12am on the 3rd lol) but the words were not wording. hopefully because of time zones it's still only just passed NYD for some of u?? either way wishing u love + light for the yr ahead <33

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

There was glitter on the floor after the party. A wonderful idea at the time, sparkles falling softly as couples kissed and champagne was popped to welcome the new year in, but now it was just something else to clean up.

A couple of people you knew, friends you weren’t that close with, were still making their way out from the night before, heels thrown over shoulders and bare feet braving the winter streets. You waved out a few more guests with a forced smile, trying not to think about how much you would rather be back in a warm bed, preferably cuddled up with someone.

“Happy New Year, darling.” Alice Fortescue kissed your cheek on the way out, pressing a stack of Polaroids in your hands. The top one was you and Sirius, hugging tightly with megawatt grins on display. You flipped it over so fast you might have made an earthquake. You couldn’t think about him.

You shut the door behind the final group of stragglers, wishing them all a happy New Year as they went, and sighed. The party was a success, there was no denying it, but somehow you didn’t feel any satisfaction. Not after making what might be the biggest mistake of your life. Not that it felt like that at the time, but… Not everything that feels good is good.

Tense silence settled over your house and you felt dangerously alone despite knowing that all your best friends were still asleep somewhere upstairs. You allowed yourself a moment, quiet before the inevitable storm of the day, and sat on the couch with your head in your hands.

You felt stupid. You’d probably just fucked up the most important relationship in your life for five minutes of pleasure. And what was worse was that you couldn’t even talk to him about it so you just wallowed in your own self-pity, feeling your best friend slip through your fingers.

Something dumb was pumping through the stereo, accompanying the raucous noise already occupying your house.

“Dance with me,” You whined, grabbing Sirius’ hands to make him move along to the music with you. He laughed at you, shaking his head softly but moving with you all the same. He twirled you around easily, handing his drink to a laughing Remus.

Sirius followed you further into the cleared-out living room, pulling out all his most embarrassing dance moves to make you laugh. You took it as a challenge, moving to the music with the wildest movements you could create, the two of you unintentionally creating a bubble between you and the rest of the party.

You eventually tired out, though, and made Sirius accompany you through the first story of your house, wine-drunk and giggling as you let all your thoughts travel from your brain and out your mouth.

Sirius helped you up until you were sitting on the railing of your back porch and staring at the stars, him standing next to you, your shoulders brushing every so often. You talked about everything and nothing, the things you wanted to leave in this year, what you were excited for in the next.

James, Remus and Peter came tumbling out the back door and into your garden with a small crowd following, setting up in anticipation of the new year and the fireworks they were going to let off.

“Sirius?” You asked, and your tone must have worried him because Sirius was up in an instant, standing in front of you.

“Yeah?”

“Kiss me,” You said as your friends began to count down.

“What?” His silver eyes widened, hands finding purchase on your knees.

“Kiss me. Please.”

And as the new year made itself known, you were finally kissing Sirius Black, your best friend in the world and longtime crush. His lips were soft, same as his hair, and all you wanted was for him to be closer, closer, closer until you weren’t even two people anymore. Just one combined being so you’d never have to stop kissing him.

His palm on your cheek was warm, cradling you gently like you’d slip away at any moment. Had he been wanting this as much as you had? You weren’t in any shape to consider it, lost in his smell and his closeness.

Champagne bottles popped behind you, fireworks releasing into the sky and you were kissing Sirius Black. You thought life could not possibly get any better, except for when he pulled away and simply rested his forehead on yours, your two breaths mixing in the winter air.

You didn’t say anything, too afraid to pop the blissful bubble you were in, so the two of you remained in silence, Sirius’ hands still holding you.

“Come on, we’re gonna play a game inside!” Mary called as she swung around the balcony pole. You and Sirius parted, intense eye contact sending chills down your spine. He nudged you gently. indicating for you to come along with him and participate in whatever terrible drinking game your friends had cooked up. Neither of you mentioned the kiss for the rest of the night.

You groaned, wiping your hands down your face to pull you back to earth, slapping your knees and standing up. Back to real life, where your best friend might never talk to you again.

You stepped over the bodies littered across the hallway leading into your bedroom, switching on your stereo as a wake-up call. The gaggle of teens moaned and groaned as you went about your business, clearing up some of the stray litter that had found its way in last night.

“Come on, clean up crew. None of you will be let out the gate until I no longer live in a shithole!” You said with forced cheer, burying your angst deep inside. Your friends whined a cacophony of complaints but roused nonetheless, ready to clean still in their sparkly attire from the party.

“Didn’t your parents know about the party?” Lily asked, rubbing tired eyes.

“Yes, but they still don’t want to come back to filth! So let’s get on it!”

Despite originally being the leader of the cleaning crusade and being the primary inhabitant of the house in which you were all cleaning, you’d somehow been bossed into the one role you’d been praying against: taking on the living room with Sirius.

Tense silence blanketed the room. You had no conversation to provide, and clearly neither did Sirius, so you were both loading empty bottles into garbage bags trying desperately to think of something to say.

You looked up to say something, anything, but divine timing made you catch the precise moment a ray of sunlight threaded through Sirius’ inky hair and onto his face, making him all but glow in the daylight. You bit your lip, unable to make conversation when he was literally golden.

“Here,” Sirius was the one to eventually break the silence, tossing a glass beer bottle into your waiting rubbish bag. You played along, making a game of catching it. You passed the time that way, making a dull chore into a competition to make it bearable.

It wasn’t until one of the bottles shattered that you sobered up, freezing in place as glass scattered across the hardwood floor.

“Shit. Stay right there,” Sirius ordered, rushing out of the room for a brush pan and broom. You stared at your sock-clad feet, both to ensure there wasn’t any glass on you and to reconsider the dynamic you had with Sirius. He’d been acting normal but hadn’t mentioned the kiss at all, maybe he was politely ignoring it so nothing would change. Or, you realised with a start, maybe he didn’t even remember it. You’d all been drinking and you were pretty sure you’d seen Sirius smoking something with Remus, there was a chance he really didn’t even know it happened. The thought was a little like a knife through the heart but it was better than losing him, so you chose to believe it.

Sirius returned, carefully cleaning away the glass shards littered by your feet as you stood dutifully still. It was strangely intimate, you could hear your friends chatter in a distant other room, a Beatles record floating through the air, but you felt a million miles away with Sirius.

“You’re all good,” He said, tipping the glass pieces into the rubbish, holding thick eye contact. You swallowed, mouth dry as you searched for a familiar quip to move the moment on. Nothing came and you were stuck staring at each other until someone called for you both in the other room.

“Hurry up, you two, we’re making vision boards!” You both snapped to attention, tossing the last remaining bits of rubbish into the bin and hurrying over to where the rest of your friends sat around a long dining table.

“What the bloody hell is a vision board,” Sirius muttered and you giggled at his side, quickly quietening down when he looked at you in a way you couldn’t decipher. Your brain chose to interpret it as discomfort.

“A vision board,” Remus explained with a stern emphasis, “Is where you collage the things you want to bring into the new year. So attitudes, things you want to happen, whatever you want.”

Sirius grumbled a bit more but sat down nonetheless, examining the collection of photos the girls had prepared a few days before new year’s eve.

You all quietened down as the craft progressed, scissor snips and paper rustling filling the room. You were mostly engaged with your own approaching new year visions, gluing down inspirational quotes and images you wanted to live out.

By chance you glanced down at Sirius’ board as you reached over to take a picture from Lily’s hands, eyes catching on one of the photos glued down already. Two figures kissing in the snow, the girl’s hand on the man’s jaw.

You dropped back into your chair aggressively, slumping back slightly.

“Woah, you alright?” James asked, trying to rub glue off his hands. You nodded before he could even finish the question, putting your head down to focus on your board.

What did the photo mean? Was Sirius finally ready to settle down and get a girlfriend? Was it you? Was it because of you? Holy shit, you were such a bad kisser that you made Sirius Black want to stop hooking up with people.

You knew you were being quiet but you couldn’t help it. It was hard to look forward to the year ahead when it was clear to you that something would be different between you and Sirius.

You excused yourself to get another glass of water, sighing as you watched the winter landscape out the window above the sink.

“Alright, dove?” You jumped at Remus’ voice but turned with a small smile. You nodded with a noncommittal noise, taking a sip of water to avoid speaking. He shot you a look you could almost picture McGonagall giving you when you lied about not being stressed during exams.

“Are we not talking about the kiss, then?” You paused. Obviously someone would have seen it, you weren’t exactly hiding anything, but it still sent fear through your veins. Not only would it now be weird with Sirius, people would start to pick sides as you drifted and soon enough your whole friendship group would be fractured down the middle. The tears burned in your eyes without any notice and you bit the inside of your cheek to stop them from falling.

“Everything’s going to fall apart,” You broke down, collapsing into Remus’ arms. He held you for a minute, letting you get the worst out.

“Nothing’s going to fall apart.” He pet your hair softly, “If you like him you just need to tell him. Don’t avoid him because of things you’re imagining might happen. Live in real life, dove.” You considered Remus’ words. They kinda hurt, but you thought you needed to hear them.

No one mentioned your red eyes as you returned from the kitchen with Remus, and Mary kindly told you the group had moved on from vision boards to new year’s resolutions.

You wrote your list in pensive silence, doodling with a sparkly pink gel pen. Staring across the table you were struck with inspiration, scribbling quickly like you were leaving a smoking trail.

The group dispersed after you’d all finished, teenagers filling every corner of your house. Each were tending to their own business, mostly setting up sleeping spaces so they could all stay while your parents were travelling.

“Hey,” You said awkwardly, approaching Sirius as he smoked on the back porch. He turned to face you, lips twitching up in response. “Is this your resolutions list? Can I read it?” You swiped the folded up piece of paper from his long fingers. He looked as if he was going to put up a fight but relented easily, turning to fully face you.

“Only if I get to read yours.”

You traded papers, the unfolding sheets rustling in the otherwise silent air. Your eyes scanned the list, smiling when you saw “buy a motorbike” in unnecessarily formal script.

And then, number five. In trembling hands, you re-read the words several times, not sure if you wanted it to be true or not.

“Tell her how I feel?” You asked, scared to even make eye contact.

“Tell him how I feel,” Sirius read off your list, a joyful spark making its way to his eyes.

“So…”

“I really like you. So much. And when you asked me to kiss you I was so scared that we’d fuck everything up but I can never say no to you. And I wanted to so, so much.”

Holy shit. You felt ridiculous, stressing about this all day when the whole time — the whole time — Sirius felt exactly the same. Your mouth dried up as you searched for words, anything acceptable for the current moment. You gave up, doing instead what you’d been thinking about all day.

And suddenly you were kissing Sirius Black. Again. His lips were just as soft as they were last night but tasted smokey and sweet from the leftover treats you’d all been snacking on throughout the day. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him as close as you possibly could.

You thought it was far too easy to get lost in kissing Sirius Black. Despite the cold air around you, you wouldn’t have been able to say whether it had been minutes or hours and you wouldn’t have dreamt of pulling away.

Cheers and hoots came from your bedroom window, reluctantly pulling yourselves off each other. Your friends were all hanging out the window making right fools of themselves, and you could tell the warmth in your cheeks wasn’t just from the cold. You buried your head in his chest to avoid the stares, revelling in being close.

“So…” Sirius said once the cheerleaders had had their fun.

“We’re certainly productive,” You joked, “I mean, how many people are ticking off their resolutions on New Year’s Day?”

“Maybe I should make another one then.” Sirius grabbed his paper back and pretended to write, “How about ‘get a girlfriend?’” You pretended to think, tilting your head as you pondered.

“I guess I could help you with that.”

[joelalorian]

Fall Into Me - Chapter Eleven: Fall Into Me and I'll Catch You Darlin'

dbf!joel x f!reader | WC: 5k | E 18+ mdni

Series Summary: Joel is hanging on by a thread as a single father to a tenacious 10-year-old Sarah. Feeling like he's drowning, like the world is about to spit him out, he needs some help before he breaks in half. At your dad's insistence, you show up in his life and change everything.

Chapter Tags/Warnings: Explicit, under 18 take a hike. No outbreak AU. Lots of feelings. Joel is his own warning. Angst/despair, fluff, smut - this chapter has the works. Please excuse my lack of medical knowledge. Age gap of about 9 years (Reader 24/25, Joel 33/34). No use of y/n. Reader has a nickname used only by her dad and Joel uses various terms of endearment (darlin', sweetheart, etc.).

This is it, folks, the final chapter! Just the epilogue left now. Thank you for coming along on this ride with me. I have fallen in love with this little family and I hope you have as well.

Moodboard by the lovely @mrsmando. Dividers by the wonderful @saradika-graphics

Chapter Ten | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Four days. Joel hadn’t left your bedside in four days, so immovable that the nurses took pity on him and asked an orderly to setup a cot for him in your hospital room.

You still hadn’t regained consciousness and Joel was losing his god damned mind over it.

The list of your injuries a mile long, among them a bunch of broken things – ankle, nose, ribs, wrist. That’s what you were right now, broken, and you had a hard road to recovery ahead of you. Joel agonized over your condition, freaking out when you had to go back into surgery shortly after coming out of it the first time. He’d barely laid eyes on you before they hauled you away again, machines beeping chaotically at whatever went wrong. You developed a hemorrhage, the doctor later told him, but they caught it in time.

Joel hadn’t stopped crying in four days, except for a brief time when Sarah was discharged. He held her for hours, trying his best not to smother or hurt her as she sat on his lap next to your bed. Aside from a purple cast on Sarah’s broken wrist, her limited injuries were already healing. Joel’s worry over his sweet little girl lessened a bit and he trusted Tommy, your dad, and your best friend, Emily, to watch over her while he sat vigil at your bedside. They brought Sarah by to see you twice a day, every day so far. Still, you hadn’t woken up.

He lost it the first time Sarah saw you lying there, barely recognizable from the injuries you sustained. Face bruised and swollen, body wrapped in casts or dressings. Sarah worried that you were dying, nearly inconsolable at the thought that you might die, might leave her, and her dad, forever. She couldn’t handle it, the thought of losing the only mom she’d ever known, ever wanted.

Joel had to leave the room at his daughter’s visceral expression of the pain she felt, her inconsolable weeping a reflection of his own anguish. He left Tommy to deal with it, and slid down the wall in the hallway, just a little way down from your room, shoulders shaking from the strength of his own sobs as the sound of Sarah’s caterwauling carried through the air. JB was the only one who could reach him through his pain, the understanding of one father for another as they both shed endless tears over you. He sat next to Joel, right there in the hallway, and wept with him, whispering words of praise of how strong you were, how much you loved them all, how you would pull through.

Joel fought hard to believe those words, to trust in JB’s hope as he was quickly losing his. He raged inside at how unfair life could be until he exhausted himself emotionally and fell into a dreamless daze in the cot next to you. When the sun rose above the horizon, he stopped trying to sleep, stopped pretending that he could while you remained unconscious.

“Come on, son. Go home and shower, take a nap in a real bed. You haven’t slept in days. I’ll watch over Spud, and you’ll be my first call if anything happens,” JB insisted the morning of day 5 at the sight of heavy bags beneath the younger man’s eyes.

Opening his mouth to argue, to adamantly refuse, Joel snapped it shut at the concerned look on your dad’s face. He gave into the exhaustion then, all the fight fleeing him, and he stood with shoulders hunched. He was completely deflated, emotionally and physically. “Ok, you’re right. I at least need a shower.”

“That you do. I could smell you down the hall.” Joel’s lips twitched at JB’s comedic effort, but he didn’t have it in him to smile or laugh. “Go on, git. Emily’s at your house with Sarah. She’ll stay while you nap – please try to get some sleep. I don’t want to see you for at least three hours, ya hear me, son?”

Joel nodded and kissed the small spot on your face free of bruising, slinking from the room with one last glance over his shoulder at you. He noticed how your dad kept calling him son – a new development since the accident and it warmed his heart in a way that he sorely needed during this torturous time.

The drive home a blur, his limbs functioning on muscle memory alone, Joel stumbled through the front door of his home with just enough energy to great Emily and Sarah.

“Joel!” Emily exclaimed, jumping from her spot on the couch to pull him into a tight hug. She adored him from the first second you introduced them, finding the man dreamy in that way that was a perfect match for you. It tore her apart to see him falling to pieces over your current condition. “JB commanded that I send you right to bed. Give Sarah a kiss then git goin’.”

Too drained to be disgruntled about being given orders in his own house, he swept Sarah up with tired limbs, ever mindful of her cast. “Hey baby girl. I love you. Have you been good for Miss Emily?”

“Yes, Daddy, I’m always good. Is she any better?” Sarah asked in her sweet, young voice that pulled taut at his heartstrings.

“Not yet,” Joel choked on the words, unable to fight the tears stinging the back of his eyes at his daughter’s worried face. He set her down on the couch before trudging up the stairs. Aching to climb into bed – as empty and cold as it would be without you – but he jumped into the shower first to wash the past few days away.

If only it was that easy.

Joel collapsed on the unmade bed, barely managing to throw a pair of sleep pants on after the quick shower. He was dead asleep seconds after his head hit the pillow.

An hour later, he pried his eyes open, clutching to the warm body clinging to him. For a brief moment, his mind thought it just another normal morning waking up to you at his side. Reality crashed down on him, hard, before he even had the chance to enjoy the thought. Sarah’s frame clung to him like a spider monkey in her sleep. She must have joined him for a nap at some point and was still out cold.

Her steady breathing lulled him back to sleep for another couple hours until Emily woke him with a shout. Joel bolted upright at the echo of his name, heart thumbing in his chest as he jostled Sarah in the process.

“Joel!” Emily called again as she reached the top of the stairs and peeked into his bedroom. “She’s awake!”

Mind still fighting through the fog to wake up, he stared at your best friend with owlish eyes.

“JB just called. She’s awake! You gotta get back to the hospital!” Emily stepped fully into the room, tossing a pair of jeans and a tee shirt at him to get him moving.

“Dad!” Sarah’s uninjured hand nudging him into action as she exclaimed. “Can I come with you?”

Finally, Joel’s mind kicked into gear. You were awake. He had to see you, but first, he needed to get dressed. “Not yet, baby girl. Lemme see how she’s doing and maybe you can see her tomorrow. We don’t want to overwhelm her, okay?”

Flopping back onto the mattress with a pout, Sarah muttered, “Okay,” as Joel eased out of bed with a groan.

It started with muscle twitches. Fingers flexing. A small grimace creasing your battered face. The process to consciousness was a daunting one that ended with fighting against the intubation tube. Even once a nurse came in and removed the tube, you still fought to come fully back to yourself.

“Dad?” Throat dry and raw, you could do little more than croak despite the rising panic. Your eyes darted around the room in confusion, landing first on your dad before taking in the plain white walls and clinical equipment. You were in the hospital, that much was obvious, but you couldn’t recall why. A thick fog wove through your mind, leaving you trying to make sense of anything, everything.

“Hey Spud. Sleeping beauty finally awakens,” your dad teased, his voice gentle but, even with a foggy brain, you picked up on the worried undertone.

“What happened?” It hurt to talk but you needed to know.

“You don’t remember? Of course you don’t, you got a pretty good knock to the head,” he muttered half to himself before tenderly taking your hand between both of his. “You and Sarah were hit by a drunk driver. Does that ring a bell?”

Like a light bulb coming on, things came back to you, brightening the dark corners of your memory. The ride home from school, going to get ice cream, the sudden and unexpected impact as you proceeded through a green light, the car rolling once, twice, then… nothing. With the memory came your brain’s recognition of pain and your body’s aches made themselves well known.

Everything hurt.

Seriously, it hurt to breathe, it hurt to move, to lie still. It hurt to just fucking exist.

“Oh my God, Sarah? Is she okay? Where is she? Where is Joel?” You glanced around the room as if waiting for them jump out from behind something, the panic returning as you gulped for air.

“Calm down, honey. The little nugget is okay. She’s home, Emily’s watching over her now. Joel’s on his way back. I’ll let him tell you how she is, but just know that she’s fine.” JB spoke in short, clipped sentences, not wanting to overwhelm you further, one grizzled hand stroking your hair back like he did when you were sick as a kid.

You tried to sit up but abandoned that idea the moment the room spun, the throbbing pain too much. Fuck, your face hurt like hell.

“Don’t do that, Spud. While Sarah might be okay, you were seriously injured. I’ll let the doctor explain when he comes in, but you shouldn’t try moving or anything just yet. You’re pretty banged up,” he explained softly.

You met your dad’s eyes, and you could see at once the toll your condition took on him. You had so many questions, but you couldn’t process them quite yet. The pair of you sat quietly for a little while until the doctor joined you, explaining the laundry list of injuries you sustained. No wonder everything hurt. They gave you more medicine for the pain now that you regained consciousness – you couldn’t believe you were out for so long – and things started to make more sense in your brain.

You’d be stuck in the hospital for a few more days before the doctor would even think about discharging you. As much as hospitals sucked, you knew it best you stay put when you couldn’t even sit up with collapsing back in pain.

Joel burst into the room shortly after the doctor left. Sipping at a cup of water your dad held for you, you nearly choked at the sight of him. You’d never seen him look so disheveled, so run down, his normal scruff grown out into a near full beard after a week of not shaving, eyes bloodshot and sunken, curls a messy, wild halo around his head.

“Oh darlin’,” Joel said as you attempted to smile at him. The bandages covering portions of your face and the swelling from the repaired break in your nose made it hard, but your eyes sparkled with happiness at the sight of him.

“Hi Joel,” you croaked in return.

He practically launched himself at your side, knocking JB out of the way so he could sit bedside. Hands hovering, afraid to touch, tears glistened in his eyes. “I was so fuckin’ scared. Thought I was gonna lose you.”

Tears sprung to your own dry eyes as the fingers of your uninjured hand tangled with his. The mere tickle of tears in your nose was damn near excruciating. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry!”

Startled, Joel’s dark chocolate eyes searched your face, completely baffled. “Darlin’, what? What in the world are you sorry for? You haven’t done anything wrong.”

You blubbered as Joel and your dad stared at you bewildered. “I almost got Sarah killed!”

Joel cracked a smile then, the first one in nearly a week, before leaning forward to place a tender kiss upon your chapped lips. “The hell you did. You didn’t do anything but take care of her. None of this was your fault, sweetheart.”

You couldn’t shake the guilt though, not even days later when the doctor discharged you. Sweet, little Sarah waited for you with a bright smile and a mylar ballon that read Welcome Home as Joel and JB helped you into the house. The sight of the purple cast on her right wrist wiped the smile from your face. How could Joel not see that this was all your fault?

You could hardly hug the girl as guilt overwhelmed you.

Emily and Tommy stood behind Sarah as you wobbled through the front door, smiles not hiding the winces at the healing trauma on your face. Emily could tell at once that you were on the verge of breaking down, unable to take your eyes from the healing contusions on Sarah’s adorable face or the cast on her wrist.

Stepping forward, Emily pulled you into a hug, ever mindful of your healing ribs and incisions. “It’s so good to see you awake and in one piece!” she whispered in your ear. “None of this was your fault, you know that right?”

She knew you too well. You choked on a sob, burying your head in her shoulder for several minutes until you had your emotions back under control.

“Do you wanna sign my cast? Daddy got special markers for it! I wouldn’t let anyone else sign it before you came home.” Sarah held a silver Sharpie up for you, flashing those puppy dog eyes at you. Unable to deny her, you took the marker with a trembling hand and drew a heart on the topside of the cast, your name scrawled sloppily beneath it.

Delighted, Sarah handed Joel the marker next and, with a quick glance at you, printed his name above the heart you drew, adding Sarah’s next to yours so that it now read Joel hearts you & Sarah. The tears returned when both Sarah and Joel gazed at you with unabashed affection.

Perhaps they really did not blame you for the accident, for Sarah’s broken wrist, for all that you put them through in the past week and a half. You weren’t sure if you deserved their love, but you basked in it, allowing it to wash over you and heal your soul.

Six weeks of convalescing at home under the tender care of Joel and Sarah, and you finally felt like yourself again, emotionally, and physically. It took a while, but Joel managed to convince you to set free the irrational guilt you felt over the accident, aided by the news that the drunk driver pleaded guilty.

Wanting to celebrate your recovery and the removal of your and Sarah’s casts, Joel planned a small gathering for July 4th. Just the Millers, JB, Emily and her husband, and Maria – the attorney Tommy fell head over heels for last year finally gave into his advances and they were happily living together now. She was a gem and fell right in with the group, giving as good as she got.

“Darlin’, just put that down, I’ll get it,” Joel insisted as you pulled a plate full of raw steaks from the fridge.

“Joel, I’m not a delicate little flower who will break under the weight of a few steaks,” you teased lovingly. Placing the plate on the counter, you turned to Joel and slipped your arms around his neck. Fingers threading through his curls, you pulled his head down, pressing your lips to his. “I love you.”

Joel’s large hands slid down your back, grabbing your ass as the kiss intensified. “Mmmm, I love you, darlin’,” his deep voice rumbled against your mouth. A knock sounded on the front door as he placed another kiss on your lips. “Now, let me take care of this while you welcome our guests.”

Before long, everyone gathered in the backyard. Your dad, Joel, and Emily’s husband Ed stood around the grill while Joel cooked the steaks and Sarah showed off her swimming skills to Maria and Tommy. You and Emily sat on the patio with glasses of sangria just watching everyone you love.

“I know I’ve said it a million times already but thank you again for being there for them after the accident,” you said as you watched Joel manning the grill with confidence. “I know it couldn’t have been easy and I just want you to know that I appreciate you.”

“Always, that’s what friends are for.” Emily smiled at you. “You really got somethin’ good here, you know. That man, he was a complete wreck while you were in the hospital. And that little girl, she worships the ground you walk on. Those two would do anything for you and I know you would do anything for them.”

You heard from your dad how hard Joel struggled while you were in the hospital, how he barely slept, refused to leave your side. Emily reiterated it all and you knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that you would have done the same if anything happened to him or Sarah.

“I don’t know how I got so lucky,” you said after taking a sip of the fruity red wine concoction. “I can’t imagine my life without them in it.”

“That’s good, really good.” Too busy making googly eyes at Joel, you missed the knowing look Emily shot you.

“She can’t keep her eyes off you, son,” JB teased. “You ready to do the thing?”

“What thing is that?” Ed asked curiously.

“Imma ask her to marry me,” Joel mumbled, already feeling a little nervous. “I got the ring in my pocket, just waiting for the right moment.”

“Good on ya, man!” Ed replied. Turning to JB, he added, “I take it he has your blessing?”

Nodding, JB grinned at his future son-in-law as he replied, “He sure as hell does. I couldn’t have asked for a better man to take care of my little Spud.”

A flush rose along Joel’s neck and moved onto his cheeks at the praise. “Alright, alright. Let’s not talk about it anymore. I don’t wanna risk her overhearing something. I want it to be a surprise.”

The other two men nodded in understanding. “Just one last thing,” Ed said. “You should ask her during the fireworks. I brought my good camera; I’ll make sure to get great shots of it for you and the fireworks will just add to the ambiance.”

The steaks were grilled to perfection, Joel nailing that medium rare sear that you loved, and Maria’s macaroni salad was a hit. Once everyone devoured their food, you jumped into the pool, letting the water ease the lingering ache in your bones while your dad and Emily insisted on helping Joel clean up. Before long, everyone else joined you in floating around to kill time before the town’s fireworks show began. The house was perfectly situated to see them from a distance, so you didn’t have to fight the traffic to find parking in town to see the show.

Drinking in the sight of Joel shirtless, swim trunks sitting low on his hips, you licked your lips hungrily. He dove into the deep end of the pool, swimming underwater until he reached you in the shallow end. Popping up next to you, he slicked his wet curls back from his forehead with a grin. Fuck, he was handsome.

“Hey beautiful,” Joel greeted. “Enjoying yourself?”

Smile so broad your cheeks hurt, you nodded. “Today has been wonderful, thank you, Joel. This was exactly what I needed.”

“I’d do anything for you, darlin’. You know that, right?” he implored, pulling you close so that you could wrap your legs around his waist beneath the water’s surface. “I’ve never been so in love before. You have completely changed my world.”

“I could say the same about you, babe.”

“The fireworks are gonna start soon. Watch to watch them from the patio?”

“Sure,” you replied. So caught up in Joel, you didn’t notice everyone watching you both with broad smiles as the two of you climbed out of the pool.

Settling into one of the cushioned outdoor chairs, the soft glow of the string lights from that special date all those months ago glistening on your damp skin. Joel moved his chair closer and sat, holding his right hand out for yours, he grinned when you twined your fingers with his.

Suddenly, Tommy appeared in front of you both, carrying a fresh glass of sangria for you and an ice-cold beer for Joel. “Here you both go.”

“Thanks Tommy,” you said gratefully.

“You ready?” he asked, his dark eyes glowing warmly in the low lighting.

“For the fireworks?” you replied, slightly confused. “You bet!”

Tommy smiled indulgently, sharing a look with Joel before moving to the poolside to help his girlfriend out of the water.

Glancing around at your friends and family, you found everyone watching the two of you. You had the feeling something was up, that there was something you were missing. Before you could dwell on it, the first bursts of light exploded in the sky, the whistling boom echoing distantly.

Mesmerized by the show, oohing and ahhing with everyone, you didn’t see Joel slip from his seat to kneel next to you. As the finale began, he said your name, drawing your attention away from the sky.

An audible gasp left your lips as he gazed at you, love lighting up his tanned features. Your eyes darted around the yard to find everyone watching you instead of the fireworks, Ed snapping away with that fancy camera of his.

“Joel, what—” you began breathlessly before he cut you off.

“Do you remember that song we danced to, right here in the yard, beneath these very lights?” His smooth voice gave no hints of the nervous energy flowing beneath his skin.

You nodded, recalling the memory fondly. “That was a beautiful night.”

“It was, and I hope to have many more just like it with you.” Still kneeling, he reached his left hand into his pocket and your breath hitched. Your heart nearly dropped when you merely pulled his phone out, tapping at the screen until music began to play in the background.

Taking your hands in his, Joel began to sing along, his deep voice the perfect contrast to the artist’s.

“On the day that I met you,

The world had just spit me out.

On my way to the bottom

Sure I’d never be found.

Then you saw me for me

Made me believe in myself.

On the day that I met

It all turned around.”

Tears stung the back of your eyes, but for the first time in weeks, they were tears of happiness, not pain or guilt. You clutched at Joel as he went to pull his right hand free, and he chuckled.

“I fall more in love with you every single day. I don’t know how I ever got to be this lucky, to find someone like you, who fits so perfectly, so seamlessly into mine and Sarah’s lives.”

You finally loosened your grip so he could pull his right hand free, digging into the zippered pocket as you swiped at the tears coursing down your face.

“You are the woman of my dreams, the one I was sure didn’t exist until I met you. If I promise to fall for you over and over again, will you promise to be my wife, to be Sarah’s mom, to love us from now until forever?”

Gazing into his dark, gorgeous eyes, misty with tears of his own, you nodded. “Yes, yes. A million times, yes, Joel. I’d love to be your wife and Sarah’s mom.”

You were sobbing as he beamed, slipping a beautiful, understated princess cut diamond ring on your finger. It fit perfectly and your heart swelled, the love in you threatening to spill over, to burst straight from your chest. “Joel, it’s so beautiful!”

Joel stood, pulling you with him until your feet left the ground and he spun you in a circle once, twice, before setting you down on solid ground. You lurched forward, sealing your love, your promise with a heated kiss.

As if they hadn’t all witnessed every second of what just happened, Joel looked over at everyone and declared, “She said yes!”

The small group of your favorite people made a racket with their whoops and whistles, JB shouting above the rest, “About fuckin’ time, son!”

Unable to contain herself for another second – she had been incredibly patient, after all, letting her dad do the asking instead of her – Sarah burst from Tommy’s grasp, launching herself at you. Joel helped you sweep her up for a tight hug.

“It’s official now, right?” Sarah questioned, nearly vibrating with excitement. “You’re gonna be my mom now. I finally get to have a mom and not just any mom, but you. The best one I could have asked for.”

Just when you thought the tears ebbed away, the waterworks started once again. “Oh, my sweet, perfect girl. I promise to try my best to be worthy of such an honor. I couldn’t have asked for a better girl to go on this adventure with.”

“This is the most amazing thing I’ve ever witnessed,” Emily said, her voice catching as tears ran down her cheeks as well.

“Agreed,” Maria chimed in with a sniffle and Tommy pulled her close with a dumb grin spreading across his face. You could practically see the wheels turning in his head as he thought about how he’d propose when the time came.

You and Joel couldn’t keep your hands off each other once Sarah went to bed and everyone left. Your need for each other was too mighty to fight, not that either of you wanted too anyway. He treated you like glass the past six weeks, afraid to hurt you, to aggravate your injuries. You understood, but that didn’t stop the desire, the need for him and it frustrated you that he would not give in. Now that you were mostly healed, you wanted him to make love to you like he used to.

Readying yourselves for bed, you climbed onto the mattress, straddling Joel’s hips where he laid back against the pillows. Half hard already at the mere sight of you naked before him, he grasped your hips to grind your core down on him.

“I need you, my love. I need to feel you inside me. It’s been too long,” your voice a breathy whine against his mouth, your lips touching but not yet kissing. “Let me ride you.”

“Fuck, darlin’,” Joel gasped as you shifted against his now fully hardened cock. “Take what you want, sweetheart.” He watched with lust blown eyes as you slid his sleep pants down his hips, and he kicked them off to lay in a pile at the bottom of the bed.

So wet and needy, you didn’t even need foreplay. Sealing your mouth to his, you swallowed his groan as you slid down on his cock. Pausing for a moment once he was balls deep inside you, fingers threaded through his luscious curls, you sighed in contentment.

“I feel so fucking full, Joel,” you moaned, finally starting to move. “I’ve missed this so much.”

Joel gazed at you, completely enraptured and unable to speak. The words stuck in his throat, he just watched you move on him, his hips shifting upwards to meet your movements. It felt so good he knew he wouldn’t last long, shifting his hand between you to pluck at your clit as you rode him.

“Come for me, darlin’. I need to feel you come apart around me,” the words burst from deep in his chest, dripping with need as he got closer to the edge. Thumb moving frantically against your clit in that way that drove you crazy, he made you come apart within minutes.

“Fuck, Joel!” you gasped, burying your face in his shoulder, biting down on the flesh to stifle your moans. Waves of pleasure washed over you so strong you couldn’t move your hips anymore. Joel took over, thrusting up into you, drawing out your orgasm as your walls fluttered around him.

You sunk your teeth further into the meat of his trapezius, the shock of pain like a bolt of lightning straight to his cock. His movements grew sloppy as his balls tightened and he came with a guttural growl, sucking at your neck as rope after rope of cum splashed inside you.

Breathless and satiated, you stayed in place, allowing the aftershocks to roll through you both. You brought your hands up to cup his face, the patchy scruff of his beard tickling your palms. The diamond ring on your left hand sparkled in the dim lighting and you grinned down at Joel, so full of love.

He pulled you down to lay with him, his softening cock slipped out of you in the process, and you both ignored the mess as you cuddled together.

“I can’t wait to marry you.” You felt the words rumble from deep in his chest as he spoke them, pulling you impossibly closer until your sweaty skin melded to his. “I fuckin’ love you, darlin.”

Smiling sleepily, you murmured your love for him, your excitement over being engaged, the beauty of the ring he chose for you, until you fell asleep mid-sentence.

Your dreams were no match for the life you and Joel were creating together.

Taglist: @mellymbee @untamedheart81 @anoverwhelmingdin @runningmom94 @leilanixx

@pedropascalfan221 @lovelyjess69 @sarahhxx03 @sofiparallel @tammythr

@lulawantmula @islacharlotte @allyourfavesinoneblog @lover-of-books-and-tea @pedropascalsbbg

@ashleyfilm @brittmb115 @lilmizmoz @loveisacowboyyy @shotgun-shelby

@deninoe @casssiopeia @caitlynsixxx @skysmiller @missladym1981

@marirxse @lizzie-cakes @tynakub @subconsciouscollapse @babygabe @cuteanimalmama

[bsd-bibliophile]

Survey Dates: 11/15/2024 - 12/15/2024

Number of Participants: 362

Tumblr will not allow me to post pictures of all the survey results, so only part of them are included in this post. You can download and view the complete results here or view them in the BSD-Bibliophile Online Library.

Thank you to everyone who participated! If you are interested in viewing the results from past surveys, here are the results from 2018, 2019, 2020, 2021, 2022, and 2023.

View the complete survey results here or on the BSD-Bibliophile Online Library.

Comments:

:)

:p

always looking forward to ur survey :)) i love data and it motivates me to read more japanese authors

Another year, another survey! Thank you so much for all the information you provide, it's really some great work you're doing! It's been a while since I had the time to just sit down and read for a while, but I did recently buy The Setting Sun and I read Kokoro this year, which was such a masterpiece I loved it! Again many thanks and love <3

As always, thank you for your lovely work Anne <33

been a fan of this website since i got into bsd (2020) you’re doing god’s work fr!!

BYE BYE BESTIES FROM ME IN THE WESTIES

compiling all these resources is a really awesome endeavor, thanks for all that you do :)

cool asf

Cool survey ^_^

even though i haven't used the library yet, i really appreciate you keeping it up and maintaining it as a resource! thank you!

freaky kunikida 😛😛😛

haiiii

Hey hope everything is going well for you I love seeing your posts and analyses you’ve really done a lot for bsd and Japanese literature fans thanks for everything <33

heyo!! i appreciate all the work you guys do, and while i've had this tab open on my phone for a while, i've not used the website that much. i plan to in the future!!

I cannot choose between Dazai, Ranpo, and Chuuya as favorite characters.

I don't always have time to read or use the library, but I'm very happy it exists and I want to find the time to use it and read more!! You are one of my favorite blogs on tumblr and have done wonderful things for both the BSD and literature community.

i dotn know why i m filling this out

I have not read a lot of Japanese literature but I intend on reading at least 1 work from each author in BSD as a goal

I have not read much, as I would rather read physical copies. Many of the authors' works cannot be found in my country, so I would wait for a bit to read, or just give in and read online translated version. At the moment I can find Ayatsuji, Tsujimura, Natsume Soseki, Dazai Osamu, Yokomizo Seishi...I intend to read more mysteries, so I would focuse on Yokomizo Seishi's at the moment.

I haven't had the time to check out your tumblr, but I have used your website a bunch! I really appreciate the effort you put into all of it, and it made reading Bungou (and other Japanese authors) a lot more accessible and understandable. Without reading some of your descriptions on the authors, I most definitely wouldn't have even picked up their books in the first place. So, thank you very much!

I honestly don’t have one single favorite bsd character, but Atsushi is definitely in my top few, I love his character and his development, and someone very very dear to me is a lot like him <3 ALSO READ STORMBRINGER 💥

I hope you have a great day ahead! This was a lovely survey.

i love dazai

I love entering Tumblr and seeing your posts on my tl, specially if they're from my favorite authors/characters ❤️ I feel like they're always there for me in a way thanks to your posts. I also appreciate the resources, even if I usually read physical books.

I love the BSD-Bibliophile site, it's so helpful when my BSD phase strikes again.

I love the online library even though I haven't used it in awhile. It's a great resource to direct new jp lit readers to

I love the tumble quotes as it inspires my own writing. Thank you and keep it up! x

I love the work that your community/company is putting in. Good luck on everything.

I love this website, thanks for this!

I love your blog! Love from Spain!

I love your online library, and I love how passionate you are about it. If there's any way that we can help add to your collection or just help in general, please let me know!

I loved Bungou Stray Dogs the moment I watched the Anime and started reading the Manga. With this Blog, it was the same: The moment I found it, I loved it! There are so many books written by authors from BSD, that I can't get a hand on in Germany, so that Posts here are my only source. I hope it makes sense... my active english isn't good. Thank you very much for the hard work over all these years!

I originally accessed this website only to search for digital copies of Dazai Osamu's works, but I ended up developing a genuine obsession with classic Japanese literature and reading dozens of books, short stories, and essays from various authors and of different genres. Thank you so much for your hard work!

I prefer reading the Slavic authors at the moment so I haven't read much by the Japanese authors. (I am also learning Russian personally so this is my preference.)

"I really enjoy your blog! It is very fun, informative, and helpful <3 

I haven't read much of the authors featured in BSD but I plan to change that next year! Your blog will be very helpful then! Thank you for all your work!"

I really love how you have made all the translated books available online. It has helped me expand my choice of literature actually. Thank you so much for your hard work! This is a place return to every once in a while because it brings me so much joy!

I really love the BSD Bibliophile Online Library. It comes in handy when I want to read books or search for more information on the authors. Bless you for such a wonderful resource!

I started learning Japanese for a light novel series that I was following (not BSD), but BSD is directly responsible for my seeking out more general Japanese literature, rather than just light novels or anime. Would not have read half of that stuff otherwise, so I am quite happy I picked up the series.

I think BSD-bibliophile is an awesome website! Thank you:)

I use the BSD-Bibliophile often! Thank you for making this website.

I want to start reading

I wish I had more time to explore the real works of the authors

I'm glad that such a page exists. I find it important and useful. Just congratulations to the ones (or one) who came up with the idea and followed through with it!

In the future I’d recommend either including modern Japanese authors (Murakami etc) in the survey, or specifying that the focus is classic (largely 20th/early 21st century) authors. But regardless I love what y'all do and the resources you provide!

in truth i haven’t used the site as i’ve wished due to time but i always have this site in mind when i’m looking for japanese authors to read :) i wholeheartedly love this site and have used it to read shorter parts of writings i can read… thank you for all you do! i can’t wait to open up the treasure trove that is this website and dive deep into japanese authors

Is there a list for BSD writers’ literary significance + how they influenced each other in chronological order? I’m relatively new to JP lit and I’d love to learn more

I've already asked for this correction last year, but I will say it again; please change the wording for "Who is your favorite BSD Japanese author" and "What is your favorite literary work by a Japanese BSD author" questions. The authors don't have anything to do with BSD, and now the questions make it sound like you're asking if people like Asagiri or someone else who has worked on BSD, as THEY are the authors of BSD. Not Dazai and others. Please change the wording to "Japanese authors who appear as characters in BSD" or something like that, and don't call them BSD authors. They aren't such. Also, I would like to point out that you've got Hirotsu's name order wrong in all questions. It's Hirotsu Ryuurou (JP order like for others), not Ryuurou Hirotsu (which is the Western name order). Thank you for the survey as always.

I've been meaning to start reading the works on the Online Library, but haven't gotten around to it yet.

I've used your list once!! I haven't had time to read many new things with how busy I've been, but there's a few I've been meaning to get around to for a while.

Just wanted to say how much I appreciate the work you do :) it made Japanese lit way more accessible when I started getting into it

Just wanted to say thank you for all you do!

Just wanted to say thanks for all the work you've put into the blog! It's how I ended up reading Nakahara's poems :)

Keep up the great work!

Love the analyses page! please add more and make it easier to find on the page

Love this blog!!!

love ur website

Love your work 💜

Maybe you should also do a survey to figure out what other Japanese authors are popular. I read mainly translated Japanese, and I'm curious to see just how popular authors like Kawabata, Mishima and Shiga are. Loved this survey btw, can't wait to see the results <3

my interest in Japanese literature was cultivated through the comprehensive list and resources available in bsd bibliophile site even though I started watching bsd much before I found the site for which I'll always be grateful because a lot of my favourite works are from Japanese literature. so thank you!!!

N/A - have a lovely day! :)

One of the Agatha Christie quotes was censored (specifically, the Ten Little Indians poem). I don't think that serves any pedagogical purpose, and it erases the harmful aspects of that story that are worth discussing and acknowledging. Similar to censoring mentions of women in Dazai quotes, it only serves to gloss over and obscure relevant details in the authors' legacies and meaningful context from their works.

"One of the best curated pages. Thanks to you i’ve been able to delve further into the magical world of BSD and some of the greatest authors in literature. 

Thank you. You’re a blessing to the BSD community. 

Love from Vietnam."

"Please help the Brazilian Portuguese speakers to make a way of doing some kind of the same thing (a place with translations) 

It would be great lots of languages on the library"

scurrying here to read tanizaki's works because the games i like reference them is the most brainrot thing i did

stay hydrated!

thank you

Thank you

thank you for all your hard work in organising the online library ♥️

Thank you for all your hard work with the website and the gorgeous posts. I have read many works after seeing them featured on your blog first

Thank you for all your work!

"Thank you for doing these every year, it is always interesting to see the results! If it's okay, I'd like to recommend two books from Japanese authors (altough they aren't related to bsd). First: The Tatami Galaxy by Tomihiko Morimi. It's a funny and surprisingly deep book with a great time loop (and there's an anime based on it that's just as great!) Second: The Aosawa Murders by Riku Onda, a gripping mystery that I couldn't put out of my hands.

Have a great year reading, everyone!"

Thank you for everything! I've learned and read a lot about Japanese authors, and even Western ones.

"Thank you for making people more familiar with Japanese literature! Good luck.

Thank you for running this blog! I'm currently working on my masters degree and the blog is going to be a valuable resource for me in the coming months.

Thank you for the google site and everything you've done for the community all these years :-) !!!

Thank you for the survey

Thank you for the survey! : ) I really want to read more books by Japanese authors but there aren't many translations of the ones i want in stores.

Thank you for the work you do!

Thank you for your blog and the website! It really helped me, because it can be hard to find even an electronic version of the book

"Thank you for your continued maintenance and work on the website - I'm incredibly grateful for all of the PDFs, lists, and information on such a broad array of authors. In time, I plan to read every work on the list.

A question - outside of the authors included in the bibliography, who else do you enjoy reading? I am fond of Kenzaburo Oe, Haruki Murakami, Keigo Higashino, Karen Horney, Irvin Yalom, Nietzsche, and Carl Jung (amongst a few others here and there)"

Thank you for your contribution to the BSD fandom!

thank you for your hard work in promoting and providing Japanese books

Thank you for your hard work!

thank you for your hard work! your site has helped me both in terms of enjoyment and providing useful resources for writing my papers and understanding literature better.

Thank you for your hard work!!

Thank you for your hard work, BSD-Bibliophile Online Library is a huge source of information for the community

Thank you for your website and hard work. I'm genuinely grateful.

Thank you for your work!

Thank you so much for making your site. It's one of the main ways I get literature, and it's really helpful because I'm a kid without a steady stream of income aside from an $8 a week allowance, which is not enough to get books at the speed I read them and my family does not go to the library often enough nor does my library have enough to suit my interests. Your online library is truly incredible and I could not be more grateful that you're kind enough to put it out for the world.

Thank you so much for running BSD-Bibliophile! It's such a lovely account, I love seeing the quotes, and also introduced me to new works too — for example, a quote from Dazai Osamu's 'The Villon's Wife' made me realize I hadn't read his whole library yet. 'm inspired by the quotes I read, and it always makes me want to read new stories too! So truly, thank you so so much for running this account.^^

thank you so much for your amazing work!!!!

Thank you!

Thanks for all the work you do!

Thanks for all you do! This is a great resource and an incredibly helpful one!!

thanks for everything, you made it easier for me to read and access Japanese literature

Thanks for your work!!!!:)

The Bibliophile has helped so much thank you!!!! :DDDDD

The website had been very useful, I'm enjoying myself with it a lot :)

The work you do (translating and compiling the works) has given me so much joy when I was obsessing about BSD and looking to read works from the original authors!! The quality of the translations seems pretty great (I'm not fluent in Japanese to know for sure but I've certainly read worse translations) and without BSD Bibliophile, I wouldn't have found a *lot* of works I love dearly. Thanks for putting this together! It's made an impact in my life and brought me closer to works I wouldn't have gotten to know otherwise :)

This survey is really including and cool! Props to the creator

This was fun to take

ur blog is such a wonderful insight into japanese literature through the lens of bsd ^^ i’d like to get more into actually reading the original works esp next year and ur blog is such a great lil sneak peak into them? lovely wotk keep it up (also hopefully gonna start w hell screen cus i read a bit 👍 but idk i like how bsd has such a wide range of authors id never heard of before ^^ literature is such a wide spectrum love it)

Ur posts put a smile on my face! I love ur dedication to the fandom and japanese literature 🫡🫡 you must have been posting daily for more than 5 years? Impressive 😊😌😌

w series literally

What about Fyodor Dostoevsy? (Crime and Punishment is a rather nice book)

Your posts made me buy and read the books. Thank you! 🖤

your website is very nice! it's where i found the english translations for some of the light novels. ive only read 3 so far but hope to read more in the future. thank you for your service 🙇‍♂️

your work is so vast and underappreciated! i really need to take more time to look through your library. thank you for all the work you've put into it!

С:

"こんにちは、翻訳の努力を本当に感謝しています���あなたにはとても感謝しています。正直なところ、お気に入りを選ぶのは難しかったですが、中也の詩が好きなので、結局太宰をクリックしました。とにかく、本当にありがとうございます。良い一日をお過ごしください！"

今年、お疲れ様でした！Thank you for your work. Having access to more of the authors I was curious about led to me conducting a successful research project on Japanese literary fiction last year. This year, I've moved abroad to Japan to learn Japanese at university. I hope that I can contribute to the effort to kindle others' inspiration through translation and storytelling. Please have a happy new year!

[srbachchan]

DAY 5956

Jalsa, Mumbai June 8, 2024 Sat 11:33 PM

🪔 ,

June 09 .. birthday greetings to Ef Naresh Bhatt .. Ef Ratna Mukherjee (urf Mili) .. Ef Dr. Sona Vikas .. Ef RB Prajapati .. and Ef Mahek Shukla from Gujarat .. 🙏🏻🚩❤️

💍 .. wedding anniversary greetings to Ef Prasha Ganesh .. completing 2 years on June 09 .. our love and prayers for infinite happiness .. ♾️ 💐🙏🏻🚩❤️

A rushed day .. a rushed work .. and a rushed completion .. but completion all the same .. and that is what matters , completion ..

A completion which I hope and pray had the approval of them that had designed the work for me ..

At times when the work ends ahead of the time schedule , it creates an atmosphere of not just surprise but doubts in the minds of the makers whether they were able to do justice to the work or not .. something similar to what each day transpires with the undersigned ..

So .. the face and mood becomes a bit contemplative ..

... was I able to do the desired in order or were there some shortfalls .. and the doubts exist even well after the work is over ..

despite the heat of the Summer at 45 degrees .. and the wearing of the snow outfit ..

naaah .. but work is demanding and the demand must be adhered to, irrespective .. so yes the woolies and the heavy duty wear present themselves .. some wonder , some have questions which I am aware of .. but work is work .. so we work ..

aaah .. far too much emphasis on the work front ..

just a walk in the park would have been better .. err .. walk to the floor would have been better ..

and while all try to find answers to the many .. did anyone notice the design of the 'bandi' in grey ..

let me know if you can respond ..

till then ..

Love ❤️

Amitabh Bachchan

[neteyamslovrr]

WRONG TO WANT YOU - PT 1

summary: ever since you stepped foot onto the land of his clan he couldn't help but feel drawn to you. everything about you he craved. but he couldn't have you. not while his son called you his.

contents: 2.2k words, fem!sully reader ,WARNING suggestive themes!! 16+, cheating, alcohol, fluff, angst, fluff, partying, depression, age-gap

authors note: AHHH im so excited to post this i've been in such an insane writing slump and just feeling gross in general so i'm glad i got this out <;33

(reader is 21 and tonowari is around 40. when they came to the clan she was 20 so they've only been there a year!! all characters aged up)

next

The village was lit up. Cheers and instruments filled the aura as many men and women swayed their bodies together dancing. The elders sat in their corners chatting away as the children ran around playing tag. It was a night of celebration, an Akula had been hunted, a feed for the village that would last them for weeks. 

Tonowari stood proudly looking over his clan. It had been a long time since he had seen the clan in such joy since the fight. It had been such a long time since his clan faced the sky people, yet the fight still laid in the back of each of the peoples minds.

The Sully's had made their way perfectly into the clan. Their blood lay with their ancestors, they were Metkayina. And you. Yes you. Were Metkayina, which laid gently in Tonowari’s heart.

Ever since the first day you arrived on the beach with your forest family, Tonowari could not keep his eyes off you. Your peculiar frame and thin tail and arms intrigued him. It'd been years since he'd ever looked at a woman like that. 

You were Jake Sully's eldest daughter, a hunter of great precision and skill. You weren't to be messed with. Yet you also moved through life with a strong sense of kindness. A warmth in your heart that made Tonowari's heart flutter, even when he begged that it didn't. 

Neither of you could deny the lingering looks you shared. The way each of you would mindlessly look for each other in a crowd. The way each of you would sleep at night imagining the other in their arms.

He knew it was wrong to want you like that. To want you as a mate. A forest Na'vi...a woman so much younger than him. So kind and full of life yet faced with war. He knew that wanting you would cause trouble.... especially when he found out his son had managed to court you. 

You remember so perfectly the moment you felt yourself regret being with Ao'nung. The Metkayina prince had treated you so well.... He’d been kind, caring and such a gentleman. But at that moment he was none of those things, and you wondered if he ever was in the first place.

You'd been on a walk, the sand you had found became quiet comforting to feel against the balls of your feet. The sun was much warmer in the reef, like a comforting hug that embraced you every moment the light shone. 

You were on your way to find Ao'nung. The man who had taken your heart so stealthily without you even realizing he had taken it until your chest beat and cheeks warmed up whenever he would be around you. The man who had promised his loyalty to you. The man who had lied to you.

Every step you took a sexual sound grew louder in your ears. Every sultry moan that erupted from the couple hidden behind lush bushes made your heart pound faster. It was fear. Heart dropping to your toes as your fingers shook. Shaky breathes. In…Out…In…Out. The feeling of nausea swirled in your stomach, as if your growing emotions were bashing on the walls of your body.

Closer you walked until the bushes were merely a slap to your pride as they hid nothing about the infidelity you had witnessed. It was as if your voice had been stripped away from you. No sound came out even if you wanted to scream in anger, throw daggers through the hearts of the couple ahead of you.

Ao’nung’s face shot up from the place it resided between a Metkayina woman’s legs. The sex-drunk look on his face not disappearing away quick enough for him to even think of begging for some sort of merciful action.

A frown so deep it may as well been etched into your skin. Shaky hands pointing at the perpetrator of the assault on your heart. “How…could you?” The words were broken and cracked off your tongue, wobbling away from the scene as your back hit those same bushes that taunted you earlier.

“Y/N….please just listen” He couldn’t try and find an excuse. And quite frankly he couldn’t have been bothered to find one either. This wasn’t an accident. No, his head dipping in between the legs of another woman was incredibly intentional.

“Don’t ever-” Your voice broke as sobs tried desperately to crawl their way up your throat, scratching every nerve and muscles within you. “Don’t ever talk to me again.”

So that’s how you ended up shitfaced at the clan’s gathering. Wallowing in your sorrows and indulging in the incredibly strong affects that the purple silky liquid held in the carved cup in your hand had on you.

It seemed wrong to dance, a time of celebration when all you were doing was mourning your heart and cursing your naïve nature. Oh how stupid you were. How idiotic it was to think he could ever commit when he was so immature…so cruel.

Sitting on the scratchy log had become much to boring for your intoxicated mind. Instead opting for a walk. Yes, the comforting walks on the sand. That is exactly what your miserable-self needed right now.

Tonowari’s eye never left your clumsy figure. Not like they ever had. His stare always followed you when he could afford it. But right now so did his legs as he took his curious steps towards your path of choice.

He was no stranger to you and Ao’nung’s relationship. Meaning he was no stranger to the stupidity of his son. Tonowari punished the boy greatly, but he could never deny whenever he yelled and felt his heart surge in pain. It was because he couldn’t stop thinking of you. How you must’ve felt. The heartbreak you must’ve endured. It broke his heart.

Steps grew larger as he saw your figure leave the party, taking its stroll towards the rocky shelves of stone that resided on the further side of the shore. Seeing your tripping figure and feet dragging across the floor made him speed up in fear of you hurting yourself.

Maybe it was the alcohol he had indulged in that allowed himself to go after you. If this was a sober night he would’ve stared at you until your figure was out of sight. Only to fantasise more about you as he tucked himself into his lonely cot and dreamt about having you there with him.

But he wasn’t sober. No not tonight. So his legs stride towards your figure that had mysteriously already gotten so far in a short amount of time. Must be an Omatikaya thing. To be so agile.

His broad and huge figure approached you, immediately making you panic. Why was the chief…the very very attractive chief and father of your ex approaching you with such determination. Heart pounding, ears tingling as the cup of alcohol was discarded onto the rocks, making a soft clank sound as it rolled down onto the sand below you.

His walk was full of power. Arms swaying as his clothing adornments perfectly decorated his detailed body. His stare was something else. Determination and concern swirling in his eyes as he came closer into view. His hair blowing ever so softly in the wind it revealed his tensed jaw, squeezed shut as his nostril flared inhaling and exhaling before he came to a halt in front of you. “Why is a young woman like you not partying with the rest?”

Eywa, pray for you. Thinking such dirty thoughts about him. Your leader… his father. But his voice was like velvet, so soft and smooth it engulfed you whole as you dissolved into mush. “ ‘m obviously sitting here.”

Tonowari frowned at your obvious intoxication, you hiccupped after every second word, the sentence slurring into a jumble as you gave him a look of feigning innocence. “I sense that you are not telling the truth.

“Are you calling me a liar?” You asked, eyes sharpening as you stood up on the step, still having to look up to him. If someone were to look directly behind Tonowari they wouldn’t even realise you were there he was so huge. “ You’re the one who raises liars!”

It was a pitiful shout, one that would make someone frown in discomfort at the misfortune of the one in front of them. Which was the exact expression of the man in front of you.

“You’re not a liar…” Tonowari let out a sigh as he looked down at you. His arms tensing as he refrained from engulfing you in a warm embrace.

“Such- such a liar!” Your drunken ramble turned up a notch as your brows knitted together upset as tears welled in your golden eyes. “Liar! He’s a liar- A cheat. He cheated! A cheater!” Words sloshed together as you tried to hold back the soft sobs that were begging to escape the jail of your mouth.

Tonowari pulled a tight lip frown as he nodded. “I know...I know” How badly he wanted to cradle you in his arms and shush your cries. But even if he was inappropriate and irresponsible, he is still the chief, and you’re still his son’s ex. But he’s also hopelessly in love with you.

“You don’t know! He’s your son!” Now faint punches were being laid onto Tonowari’s chest. He didn’t move, you had no were near enough strength to crumble his stance. “He- I- why?! Why did he do that? Was I not good enough? Huh? Not prestigious enough for an heir to your throne.”

Tonowari let out a breathy “No- No of course not!” As he shook his head violently. The punches to his chest grew stronger.

“Then WHY?!” Your drunken state was obviously impacting your emotions. If you were sober you would have never even talked to Tonowari in the first place. “Why w-was I not good enough? Why her and n-not me?”

And that’s when you collapsed. Falling into the chief’s chest and strong arms in a fit of tears. Chest heaving as sobs racked through your ribs. If it weren’t for the loud sound of the waves crashing against each other then your wails would be carrying through the entire village. Tonowari got rid of all the restraint he was holding as you fell into him. He squeezed you tight. Not daring to let go as his large hands patted down your hair soothingly.

“Shh…shhh it’s alright” He tried to quiet your cries as you continued to shake in his hold. Lip quivering as you snotted and cried all over his pectorals.

You could say nothing else, your brain did not have the capacity to conjure a single thought. The wind was cold, the alcohol in your system making your skin increasingly sensitive to the world around it.

“I think it’s time you rest. Hm?” His hand glided its way up to hold your chin delicately in his fingers, a soothing thumb wiping your tears. You could only hum in agreement as his strong arms took you in and lifted you up.

Nuzzling into the warmth of his chest, you continued to weep. Not even quite sure what you were crying about any longer. His touch was nothing but comforting. Heart buzzing in your chest as you looked up to see his loving gaze staring right back at you.

Tonowari decided to not cause a huge stir in the clan and take you to his hut instead of your own. Avoiding the clan and avoiding the chaos that would ensue in one seeing a pair so wrong behaving like this.

Laying you down on his cot, he crouched next to you. Looking at you in his bed, even if it was not the scenario he imagined in his mind a million times, it was still enough to make his heart flutter.

You mumbled incoherent words as Tonowari stumbled across his hut, still drunk, making sure you would have the most restful night of your life. Laying a weaved blanket upon your body he kneeled beside you once again to brush the hair out of your face, enough to see the way your eyes were fighting their way to stay open to stare at the handsome man above you.

“Stay.” It was a quiet mumble, a drunken confession as you gazed into his shocked eyes. “Please.”

Tonowari’s expression was clear. He was fighting his own morals and standards. Fighting his mind and his heart. And his heart won…well the alcohol did.

Defeated, yet still celebrating. Tonowari laid in the cot beside you. His arms engulfed you, taking in your whole frame as he moved you on top of his chest. He was so muscly yet so soft.

Humming in content your tired and drunk self managed to fall fast asleep on the older man’s chest. Quiet snores filled his ear as his hand caressed the small of your back.

This was a problem for future Tonowari to worry about. But right now, he had the opportunity to hold you close, and hold you tight.

His son had been selfish and lost you…it was time for Tonowari to be selfish and have you.  

tags: @avatarkv @jakesullyfatjuicypeen @cyberfreaky @cinetrix @supercoolusernamesblog @gabrijelasworld @rebeccao03

everything taglist: @8resa @ilovejakesullysdick @neteyamsblog @live-laugh-neteyam @reyalvr @trashfox @darkacademictrash @scntfrhs @dreamyescapesfromreality @fanboyluvr @neteyamzmate @neteyamyawne @neteyamssbaby

thankyou so so much for reading reblogs and replies make my day!!!

[chxrrie-bxmb]

Hajime Hinata headcanons that totally aren't us projecting on him

We adore this boy <33

He's a burnt out gifted kid. Since Hope's Peak is essentially a private school, you can't tell me I'm wrong.

^ The above point feeds into his low self worth. He used to be so bright when he was younger, so capable. What happened? Why is he suddenly struggling to keep up with his peers when he was so far ahead of them in previous years? Will he ever be able to catch up with them? Will he be worth anything in the long run if he can't?

Since Hajime's family is literally never mentioned (as far as I know at least), time to make up some stuff! /silly

Hajime had a wonderful relationship with his mother. She was the main one who funded his HPA fees and wanted him to have the best opportunities he could. His father? ...Not so much.

Now, Hajime's father wasn't awful. He gave Hajime the support he needed, he taught him every life skill he knows, and gave him the push he needed to do better. But once he enrolled in HPA, those pushes were a little too hard and a little too frequent. Because of Hajime's academic and social struggles, his relationship with his father reached a low point. Now he no longer had the love and support he had grown used to. All his father seemed to express towards him was disappointment.

So yeah, Hajime is a mama's boy. Now for the lighthearted stuff!

Hajime is a MASSIVE classic rock fan. ACDC and Queen are his favorites! He listens to some other subgenres of rock, but that mostly consists of the occasional indie rock track in his playlist.

Other than that, Hajime's music taste tends to fluctuate and bend to include some music his friends listen to! He has some punk rock from Kazuichi and Ibuki, Mario Kart music from Chiaki, and 80s-90s death metal from... Nagito?? Wow, that was unexpected.

Hajime's fashion style is very... plain. But! Every so often he lets his friends dress him up in something within their aesthetic! His friends have noted that light academia suits him best. They try their best to get him to wear a little bit more than a polo shirt and slacks, but some days dressing simple is dressing good.

Hajime is a bisexual polyam king and no one can convince me otherwise >:]

While Hajime is a little bit dense, he's very good at telling when one of his close friends is upset (even if they themselves haven't noticed yet). This skill is especially useful with Nagito and Chiaki, since they rarely ever tell anyone they're sad or upset without being specifically asked about it.

^ Adding to the previous headcanon, Hajime is the mom friend. He takes care of the others and commits their likes and dislikes to memory. He knows exactly how to cheer them up and calm them down better than anyone else in his class. It's one of the reasons why so many of his classmates adore him.

While Hajime is really good at taking care of others, he's God Awful at taking care of himself. His classmates always have to physically hold him down via cuddle piling when he's upset or hurt so they can make sure he's actually taking a moment to relax. And then there's Nagito and Chiaki who coddle him 24/7 no matter what (although they do it in very different ways).

Okay, I think that's enough for now lol

[quintessenceofdust88]

Let's start with 🍼🍼🍼🍼🍼🍼

Hi Diana my darling! Let's start with Blobs then, actually with the part you helped me write hehe!

Here are 24-ish sentences of them for you, cont. from here:

- 🍼

“You’re not allowed to think I’m cute right now. I’m trying to be mad” He complains, and Tommy chuckles, kissing his cheek. 

“Alright, be mad at me later, ok? C’mon, let’s go talk to your parents, baby. And remember we’re having pizza at the Diazes as soon as it’s over, so that’s something good to look forward to, right?”

Buck nods at him, trying to smile, but the nausea he’s feeling makes it harder, and this once he doesn’t think he can blame his blobs for it. Talking to his parents is always… an experience, to say the least, and Buck’s never sure how he’ll end up feeling. 

He’s been dreading this moment for days, and now that it’s coming, it makes him wonder if he’s ready, and not just to talk to his parents. For everything. For the twins. For parenting. For parenting with Tommy who clearly has his own issues about it.

Tommy sets up his laptop on the coffee table, setting the camera up in a way that doesn’t show Buck’s bump right away, and before they accept the call from his parents (6 pm sharp, as always completely punctual, something they tried - and failed - to instill on Buck all his life), he squeezes Buck’s hand. 

“Hey” He says softly. “I’m here, okay? It’ll be fine. I promise”

Buck wants to feel reassured by this, but he doesn’t, at least not right away. Because he knows Tommy is not fine, no matter how much he pretends to. And the fact that he does pretend to is getting to Buck’s nerves, but he’s trying to be patient and give his husband his own time to battle his demons instead of just burying them.

And the whole thing just makes Buck feel guilty, because at least he has a… He doesn’t know if good is the word he’d use to describe his relationship with his parents, but at least it’s existent. It’s more than Tommy can say for his father, and Buck feels bad that he’s even having a hard time with this. 

He should be happy, right? Happy that his parents take an interest in his life, that they accept he's married to a man, which already puts them miles ahead of Tommy's dad. So he’ll swallow his uncertainties and be glad for what he has or whatever. Wouldn’t be the first time.

"Hello, Evan! How are you, sweetheart?" His mom's voice brings him out of his musings, and Buck forces a smile. 

Time to face the music, whether it’s to his taste or not. He'll be fine; he has 33 years of practice pretending to be fine when his parents are concerned.

--

There you go my love, thank you sooo much for the ask and for listening to my ramblings and helping me out when I was struggling! ♥

(make me write!)

[nixwriteschaos]

Little Birthday Girl

Eri and GN!Reader [PLATONIC] Summary: Eri was getting a bit upset that no one was celebrating her birthday… :(( Or did they..?

★☽A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY SWEET BABY GIRL!! I SWEAR ERI IS MY TOP FAVORITE KID IN ANIME EVEERRRR SO SHE DESERVES THIS <33

Contents: TOTAL FLUFF Disclaimer - Reader will be referred to as Mx/teacher [Name]. Age: 20-28 Quirk: “Calm” Description: Allows user to calm others (like calm someone down when their angry, sad, way too excited) and it’s useful to use for user's defense, user can calm down villains (who are pumped with excitement and vengeance) and with them without their adrenaline, user is able to knock them down! It only works whenever the user make eye contact or physical contact. Overuse of quirk would lead to mood swings and possibly outbursts! Hero name: The calming hero: Starling. (You might remember this from my previous Eri fanfic!!)

————•°•✿•°•————

Eri was awake and really happy!

Why was that?

Well, she discovered that it was her birthday today! She found out from Shouta who was talking about her birth certificate with Hizashi in secret which she eavesdropped on. She was ecstatic! It had been a year since she was saved and a year since the war. She thought everything had settled down, with the cities getting rebuilt everyday, and with U.A continuing with their education, including class 1A finally becoming class 2A.

She’s finally eight years old! She wondered what surprises she must have. She had been seeing Mirio a lot lately and he had a big smile on his face– bigger than usual!

But as her birthday inched closer, no one mentioned anything about a surprise. It made her suspicious and just assumed that they were just being secretive about it.

When her birthday was finally here, she had expected a “happy birthday” from Shouta. But when he came around, he didn’t utter a single mention about it. It made her a bit sad, almost feeling neglected by it. And when she met up with Y/N, all they did was smile at her. They didn’t even say happy birthday? That only made her more upset.

She pouted the whole day, not even smiling once. When Mirio noticed her puckered lips and furrowed brows, he expressed his concerns by asking her what was the matter. “It’s oke…” she mumbled, her lips still puckered and her brows furrowing further. Mirio’s smile disappeared and a guilty frown displayed on his face. “C’mon,” Shouta said. Mirio nodded and walked with Eri and Shouta all the way to class 2A’s dormitory. 

She had thought it was just for a visit, to allow everyone to see her. At this point, she had given up the idea of anyone remembering her birthday. Afterall, no one knew when her birthday was, considering Overhaul never cared about it, only caring about her Quirk.

So when the doors opened and so did her eyes, she was filled with shock and joy when she saw all the cat decorations and the decorated delicious treats on the tables. Everyone from class 2A exclaimed in unison, “HAPPY BIRTHDAY, ERI-CHAN!!” with the biggest smiles on their faces.

Her pout and her furrowed brows dissipated instantly, a huge smile on her face was as bright as the sun. Her eyes gleamed in joy as she looked around with admiration and amazement. “All for me?” She looked up at Shouta. He showed a small uncommon smile and nodded. “It is.” Her smile grew even wider when she realized it was all for her.

Y/N then nudged her forward with their hand. She looked up to see their gentle smile. “Well? Go ahead, have fun.” She nodded with joy and looked back with gleaming eyes.

Mirio instantly picked up her without hesitation, causing Eri to yelp and giggle playfully. He walked over to the class 2A’s students and they all showered her with love and gifts. (Of course, the gifts were placed on a table and will be opened later on).

She was even overjoyed when she saw her favorite treat, candied apples! One was held by Izuku who smiled while giving her it. “Happy Birthday, Eri-chan.”

What Eri doesn’t know…

U.A had discovered Eri’s birth certificate which was found in the Yakuza’s base and its ruins. Shouta isn’t one for celebrating birthdays– he rarely celebrates his own– but decided to plan a small surprise for the little girl with his class. And his class was ecstatic after being given the news of the girl’s upcoming birthday.

They spent weeks after school working on ideas that are best suited for the girl. She recently discovered cats and adored them! And that gave a little idea for her birthday party theme. Yaoyorozu and Hagakure were in charge of finding the theme and setting it up and after discovering her recent admiration, they bought a few cat balloons and had Yaoyorozu make cat themed decorations (mainly because the ones they found online and in store were quite… odd).

As for the food and drinks, Sato and Katsuki were in charge of it. Sato baked the most delicious strawberry shortcake! With Katsuki– with surprisingly good skill– decorating it with little cute cats all around the frosting! Izuku decided it would be a good idea to have her favorite treat on her birthday so he created around two dozen candied apples, each delicious with each bite. (Had to stop Mineta from eating them… who knew he had a sweet tooth?)

Seeing Eri’s smile on her birthday made all of Izuku Midoriya’s sacrifices worth it. :))

At night, Eri was tucked into bed with her cute smile still plastered onto her face. Y/N chuckled at her continued face and sat down on her bed. They moved a strand from her face gently, a soft smile on their face. “Did you have fun?” She nodded eagerly. “I had a ton of fun! There was cake and candy apples! It was very sweet!!” Y/N chuckled softly at her energetic response, watching as her arms flailed with enthusiasm. Y/N gently pushed them down, tucking them into the bedsheets.

“I’m glad, dear.” They smiled. As for a special treat, they started to sing Eri’s favorite lullaby, lulling her to sleep.

For the first time in a long time, she had the best birthday ever! And she still keeps a picture of her special day, with everyone from class 2A, Y/N, Shouta, and Mirio, all gathered together with Eri in the middle, smiling as she stood in front of her cat decorated birthday cake.

————•°•✿•°•————

[ms-m-astrologer]

The Week Ahead: December 16-22, 2024

Lunar Phases

Wednesday, December 18, 22:30 UTC - Disseminating Moon, 12°30’ Leo

The key phrases for the Disseminating lunar phase are “teach, share, communicate;” and “ease up on efforts with our intentions.” We’re sharing in creative ways, maybe a little overly dramatic. Very performative vibes. Women remain pissed off.

Sunday, December 22, 22:18 UTC - Last Quarter Moon, 1°34’ Libra

The key phrases for the Last Quarter lunar phase are “turn away,” and “tear down old structures that no longer serve us well.” Some of those old structures may be the way we celebrate the holidays. There’s temptation to “gloss over” things we oughtn’t, for the sake of family harmony.

Void of Course Moon

Tuesday, December 17, 18:33 UTC (Cancer) - 23:39 UTC (Leo)

Friday, December 20, 05:19 UTC (Leo) - 07:37 UTC (Virgo)

Sunday, December 22, 13:27 UTC (Virgo) - 19:08 UTC (Libra)

Retrograde/Direct/Etc.

Pre-retrograde shadow: Juno/Scorpio (starting Sunday the 22nd)

Retrograde: Mars/Leo, Jupiter/Gemini, Chiron/Aries, Uranus/Taurus, Eris/Aries

Post-retrograde shadow: Mercury/Sagittarius, Saturn/Pisces

Transiting Mercury exits its Storm on Saturday, December 21, now moving faster than 40’ or arc per day. Until then, forward progress is minimal - it feels like we’re still struggling, even though we know we’re moving on.

Transiting Juno enters her pre-retrograde shadow on Sunday, December 22, 14:45 UTC, at 16°15’ Scorpio. Well, we’re in for it now - it’s about time - a lot of toxicity in/of/with relationships to sort through and purge.

Ingress

Saturday, December 21, 09:21 UTC - transiting Sun enters Capricorn

Aka the Capricorn Solstice - Merry Yule up here, Merry Litha down there! I think we have a general feeling that we’ve wept and howled long enough - it’s time to begin to plan for the future, not only the immediate reality but where we wish it to go.

Et Cetera

There are three Opportunity Periods this week:

Sunday, December 15, 19:21 UTC - Tuesday, December 17, 23:39 UTC. “With Mercury just turning direct, this is a good time for setting lofty goals and inspiration.”

Thursday, December 19, 20:04 UTC - Friday, December 20, 05:19 UTC. “Good for creativity and also healthy connections and relationships, aided by the Venus-Jupiter trine.”

Sunday, December 22, 22:18 UTC - Tuesday, December 24, 10:44 UTC. “This great OP ends with the Moon enclosed between benefics (Venus and Jupiter), forming a grand trine, which is awesome for everything joyous, just in time for the holidays.”

A different feel, as Mercury is direct but sluggish - and it’s now a waning Moon. We have the dreaded “Holidays” ahead of us, too; it’s finals time in schools and colleges. The “most wonderful time of the year,” my eye. There are rewards for hanging in there, though.

While the Moon is in Cancer (Sunday the 15th - Tuesday the 17th), use that Opportunity Period to come to terms with your feelings. How do you feel about “the holidays” this year, and what can/will you do about celebrating them or not?

While the Moon is in Leo (Tuesday the 17th to Friday the 20th), it’s a little bit of a respite with some partying, abetted by a trine between Venus/Aquarius and Jupiter Rx/Gemini. Great for socializing.

While the Moon is in Virgo (Friday the 20th to Sunday the 22nd), it’s time to roll up our sleeves and get to work. Probably lots of distractions - take a tip from a sexagenarian and write everything down as it occurs to you. Having plans B, C, and D, as well as Plan A, will be useful.

While the Moon is in Libra (Sunday the 22nd - Wednesday the 25th), we have another chiefly social time. It ends with a very long void Moon, from 09:44 UTC the 24th, to 08:06 UTC the 25th. Try to get everything done before this, so you can relax and chill out on Christmas Eve.

[animalinvestigator]

birthday wishes ! (A side)

THANK YOU SO MUCH LUCAS!!~ i hope you're having a great valentines!!!!! WOOHOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! hope things have treated you well recently, it made me really happy to hear from you!!!!!!!~

LOVELY BELOVED FAE!!!!!!!!!!!!!! <33 thank you so much!!!!!! :3 i hope you're having a happy valentines, i'm really excited to see you tomorrow and celebrate properly!!!!!!!!!! im so glad you're my friend!!!!!!! FOR SERIOUS i'm so mega grateful for you ilysm!!!!!!! :3

THANK U SO MUCH RAXZ!!! i remember that too.. feels like yesterday...such a long but such a short year. i'm so glad you are my mutual!!!! always so happy to hear from you!!!!!!!! i hope you'll have a lovely day!!! ( and i will thank you properly for your drawing by posting it seperately hehehehe THANK YOU SO MUCH AHEAD OF TIME THO)

(wonderful hershel layton gif sadly cropped out for size but i saw him and i love him and lterally) THANK YOU SO MUCH MAX~~~~ happy valentines!!!!!!!! thank you for the dancing eevee ltieray me forever always 100 <3 sending lots of love !!!!!!!!!!! grateful for you!!!!!!!!!!!!! you are my treasured friend

IKR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i feel very lucky to be a valentines bug...thank you so much fern for your good vibes and wellwishes and your beautiful ecosystem of emojis. you are a very treasured mutual and i appreciate your kindness so much always!!!!!!!!!!

THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! <3333333333

[itsjaywalkers]

Hello!hope ur having a good day :) <33

I was wondering if u wanted to share some trans reg hc, could be overall or like the boxing au one, or anything rly.

Like who was the first person he came out to, how/when did he realise, how does he deal with dysphoria- what gives him dysphoria/euphoria, and maybe how would it translate into like relationship and sexlife, would he be able to go ahead without any/much dysphoria, or would he have to have sex a ‘specific way(?? Idk??)’ to make it work?

A lot of question I know, and u don’t have to answer if it makes u uncomfortable or anything, I just wanted to hear more about your headcanons about this.

//a trans guy who is obsessed with trans reg, and ur writing

hi darling!! i have today off so i am . in fact . having a great day <3 i hope yours is treating u kindly too!!

and ofc i want to!! i'm gonna do it boxer au based, since reg's trans experience isn't the same in every story!! and don't worry, i'm happy to answer ur questions!! it doesn't make me uncomfy in the slightest, trans reg is very special to me too for many reasons and i loveeee talking about him <3

the first person he came out to was sirius!! this is my Truth almost always no matter the fic. it changes sometimes, if he takes longer to realise and he and sirius have a complicated relationship but !! in the boxer au they get along great and they're very close, so reg told sirius first!!

sirius already had his suspicions tho, and they had a lot of long deep convos about gender. he helped reg figure himself out and supported him every step of the way

in the boxer au, he realised quite young!! he was never completely comfortable in his own body, but since he was a very awkward and . odd . kid everyone attributed it to reg just not being 'normal' in general. when puberty hit it got worse tho, and even tho everyone told him it'd pass and that puberty wasn't supposed to feel good or fun, reg knew there was something else

sirius also noticed there was something going on with his brother, so he tried to help him in every way he could. he lent him his clothes whenever reg asked (even tho it was always kind of begrudgingly), convinced their parents to allow him to wear his hair short, bought him oversized clothes and called him by his nickname and never his actual name

but i think the moment it actually hit reg was when he got mistaken by a boy one time he got out of school and went to his father's office to wait for him. the receptionist assumed he was sirius, and it finally clicked for him

he didn't tell sirius immediately tho. he researched a lot first, almost obsessively, and he doubted himself all of the time, having these moments in which . he was afraid he was actually somehow making it all up in his mind

reg was very scared of change, and this was a very big One. he knew sirius would support him no matter what, but there's always fear yk?? and there was also the matter of his parents. he was absolutely terrified

but he ended up blurting it out one night he and sirius stayed up late in secret. sirius talked to him about this one boy he was crushing into, and came out to him. and reg came out to him in return!! there were a lot of hugs and a lot of tears (they pretended this never happened the next morning)

sirius was a man on a mission after this. he helped him browse names and started using the correct pronouns, always getting so incredibly upset when he slipped at the beginning. reg found it very endearing, and assured him it was fine bc it was understandably gonna take them both some time

reg didn't have many close friends back then, so he didn't really come out to anyone in school, and he graduated with only sirius knowing the truth

those years were hard ngl, and reg struggled A Lot, but having sirius on his side made the whole thing . slightly more bearable . sometimes not even that was enough but reg appreciated it immensely

how he deals with dysphoria has changed over time!! he relied a lot on the internet when he was younger, and on his brother too, but there was only so much sirius could do apart from offering a willing ear and being comforting, considering he couldn't really understand what reg was going through. it absolutely broke sirius' heart, to see him have breakdown after breakdown, losing his appetite or refusing to leave his room for days

back then reg experienced dysphoria constantly. he wasn't comfortable in his own body and he had a hard time looking at himself in the mirror, or even listening to himself talk

some days he could kind of deal with it, remain functional despite it all. he did his best to keep himself distracted so he wouldn't think too much about the whole thing

but other days getting up from bed was Hard

now tho !! it doesn't happen That often, he's the man he was always meant to be !! he's on T and got top surgery and legally changed his name and gender so he's kind of thriving

he still has his moments tho bc this is something he's gonna have to deal with for the rest of his life so when it happens he goes to the twins!! they're both trans in this story so they Understand what he's going through and they support each other Always

they exchange advice and comfort each other when it gets especially Hard and . idk it's all very lovely, they're each other's ppl yk??

again, back then a lot of stuff gave him dysphoria, but nowadays it's more specific?? little things that usually don't upset him that badly but that sometimes pile up and end up giving him actually bad dysphoria??

like . he's a well-known sports journalist, he isn't really a celebrity or anything but ppl do talk about him sometimes, especially bc of sirius (and then bc of james) and they tend to mention his looks or how similar or different he looks to his brother

and sometimes they use more . feminine adjectives or straight up say he's kinda feminine or even comment on him being trans since it's public knowledge and reg has spoken on it more than once and . it's stuff that doesn't affect him that badly but it still annoys him

it's the same when ppl highlight how passing he looks, how u can't even tell he's trans, etc

there's also the ppl that are purposefully transphobic or misgender him which . does actually make him quite dysphoric, even tho he's mostly very comfortable with his identity + his looks now

he also has a bit of a complicated relationship with . stuff that it's considered 'feminine'

like clothes don't have any gender, same with makeup, and reg wouldn't mind wearing a skirt even tho it's not his style and he does wear some makeup semi-regularly for tv interviews etc etc but . sometimes he feels slightly uncomfy on it, like he gets bad memories or becomes paranoid about how he looks in it, if the clothes make his body seem too . curvy .

as i've said, he's very confident nowadays but he still has his moments!!

when it comes to gender euphoria, it's all about the little things!! people calling him handsome, seeing how hairy his body is now, the fact that he can take his shirt off now when he goes to the beach etc

when it comes to relationships and his sex life he has reached a point in which he can usually go ahead without getting dysphoria but . it depends on his partner really

some ppl can be transphobic without meaning to or simply bc of a lack of knowledge which is fine by him u know he totally gets it, it's a matter of being willing to learn and to listen to him

like . he's used to guys assuming he only bottoms or not even ask if he's comfortable using his front hole u know

or using afab terms to refer to his genitals without making sure first reg is okay with that

which brings me to my next point !! in oby, reg himself uses afab terms and he's fine with james using them too, they've had a convo about it and everything

but it's different for reg in the boxer au!! he does use afab terms for himself, he doesn't mind at this point and it doesn't give him any dysphoria however . when it comes to his sexual partners . he prefers them using words like a cock or hole or more neutral names . it gives him gender euphoria!! and the other stuff makes him kinda uncomfy. it's fine when he's the one saying it or thinking it but hearing it out loud coming from . other people, especially people who are just there bc they're attracted to him and want to fuck him is . Not Great

he also isn't always fine with using his front hole during sex, it depends on his mood and how much he trusts the person he's gonna be sleeping with. besides, he quite likes anal too so !!

this whole thing is another reason why . reg doesn't want to sleep with james bc he feels like he's gonna be a bit of an asshole about it or be another guy who doesn't even bother asking about his preferences or what he's comfy with

which isn't the case at all!! james has been with trans ppl before, and even if he hadn't, he's very considerate with his partners!! and as he should tbh. him being arrogant or knowing he's great in bed doesn't mean he's selfish

[clickerflight]

Clove: Part 33 - Home

Author's note: We're almost to the end. The next chapter will be the epilogue. I have so many feels. It will feel good to finish writing a story.

Masterlist - Part 32

Content: Vampire whumpee, vaguely referenced sexual abuse, emotional angst, lost time

........................................

Hyrum ran ahead of the group through the trees, still in that huge wolfdog form, barking and howling with excitement, tail wagging behind himself as he bounded over streams and logs. Ephraim, who had Benny’s arm over his shoulder, felt his energy coming back just watching the pup enjoy the sun streaming through the leaves. 

Kortops and Halia walked, arms linked, deft flaps of their wings getting them over obstructions. 

Benny had been very quiet since waking up and Ephraim assumed he needed some time to think while he healed from the fight they had. Ephraim didn't mind. He needed time to think as well. 

Besides, it was wonderful to look at the normal plantlife, hearing the soft sounds of birds and water, no mists to obscure their vision. It looked like time had moved strangely while they were in the fae realm. That was to be expected. It was well into summer, now, when it had been autumn when he left. He hoped everyone was okay. He hoped that Margaret was still alive. 

“How long has it been?” Benny asked softly, apparently having a similar thought process. 

“About 53 years if it’s July now,” Ephraim said, and Benny’s head hung a little lower. “It’s not your fault.”

“Feels like it,” he whispered. “If I had been a little stronger. I knew what was happening was wrong. I didn’t even like being her husband, but-”

“You were charmed,” Ephraim said firmly. “And now we can move on. We’re home. You’re home.”

Benny lifted his head, and Ephraim felt sick to his stomach seeing the tears streaming down his cheeks. “Ephraim, I don’t think I belong here anymore. I’m…. I’ve been….”

Ephraim could see the words that wouldn’t come out. Defiled, disgusting, corrupted, sickened, a completely different man lost in a familiar world.

Ephraim sighed. “Benny, do you remember what I told you after you’d recovered from being turned?”

Benny frowned, trying to remember, but his charm-addled mind had caused the memory to completely leave him. His shoulders hitched with a sob as he shook his head. 

“That’s okay. I want to tell you,” Ephraim said warmly, trying to keep any worry out of his voice, rubbing his thumb over Benny’s neck. “We live for a very long time, Benny, if everything goes well for us. That gives us a lot of time to change. We are never going to be the same person as we were a decade ago, okay? And that’s okay. It takes a lot of bravery to face that, to try and keep up with the ever changing world and with the change within ourselves. We will live to see horrors beyond anything most mortals can comprehend, and we have to learn how to handle it, okay? I am so sorry it happened so early. I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you from being taken that day, but we have to take this in stride and we have to keep going.”

Benny was silent for a long moment and Ephraim took another breath. “You know that I was a gladiator once. A long time ago.”

Benny nodded. He felt more awake, especially at the mention of the part of Ephraim’s life that the older vampire quite often refused to talk about. It was still hard to imagine Ephraim as a gladiator. Maybe that was just because Benny had seen him plant too many sunflowers. 

“I didn’t want to be a gladiator,” Ephraim sighed. “I had been captured for being a vampire and sold around until I ended up in a gladiator ring. I was trapped there for years, Benny. Fighting and killing just so I could have a meal once every few days. I was sick, but still stronger than the humans they kept sending in to fight me, trying to slay me like some monster…. It took me a long time after I’d won my freedom to figure myself out. I couldn’t make friends for a long time, I acted like the monster they’d trained me to be, and I didn’t even have a safe place to sleep. I know how you feel, and you have to remember that you are the only one in charge of your emotions and actions. You have to take your life into your hands and make it what you will.”

“But I don’t know what-”

“You don’t have to right now. And I’ll let you in on a secret. You never will. You just have to decide what you like from life, what you think it would be fun to be, and go for it.”

Benny thought about that for a moment. That seemed easier said than done, and he didn’t like how lost it still made him feel, but Ephraim was right, Ephraim was almost always right. He’d been around long enough to know things like this. 

“Thank you. For the advice and for….. Getting me out of there.”

“Not sure how much help I actually was for that,” Ephraim said with a chuckle. “There’s the cottage.”

Benny looked up and his knees nearly gave out, seeing the beautiful cottage, the garden fairly well tended. It seemed Ephraim had been away for a while but someone had taken the time to put the garden in order. 

He saw Hyrum run into the garden, sniffing at everything, stopping to roll in the grass before getting up and dashing into the house, turning into a human on the way in through the door. 

Benny could hear voices inside and soon enough Hyrum came back out, wrapped in a blanket. It seemed that his clothing got shredded when he took his large wolf form. 

“Eef! Margaret is here!”

Benny perked up, gathering his energy to let go of Ephraim, walking on his own as a man who smelled like herbs and teas stepped out, surprised. Benny felt a pang of sadness, realizing this man was old enough to have kids, but he couldn’t have been alive when Benny left. He would only know the old members of the village. 

He pushed that thought inside. He needed to see Margaret. 

He stumbled up, past the garden, past the two fae who stopped to look at the flowers, giggling to one another, past the pup and to the cottage stoop, leaning hard on the railing. 

He faintly heard Ephraim commenting on everything new as the man stepped aside, surprised. 

Benny stepped up onto the stoop, which hadn’t been there before, and through the door. 

He looked around so quickly, it made him dizzy. Finally, he spotted a wizened old woman on the couch, only the faintest traces of who she had been marked on her face. 

“Margie?” he whispered, looking at who was once his younger sister. Younger? Really? How could he possibly be older!?

She looked up from the medicine pouches she was assembling with a deep frown, only for her eyes to dull with confusion when she looked at him. 

“Who…. no…. Benny?”

Benny nodded with a sob, stepping across to the couch where he sat down heavily, wrapping his arms around his sister, kissing the thinning grey hairs on the top of her head. 

She grabbed his arm with a gnarled claw, grunting as she weakly pushed him off. 

She looked him over more critically. “In the name of Lady Death, Benjamin Ashmaker. What are you wearing?”

He looked down at the tight leathers, split and torn in places from his fight and smelling of werewolf slobber. “I…. I’m not sure, anymore. I’ll change as soon as I can.”

Ephraim stepped through the front door, a tired little smile on his face and Margie looked angry at him more than anything. “There’s the slacker. Where in the world have you been, then? Something to do with Benny here?”

“Yeah. That Sorcerer, Jack, he kidnapped Hyrum and we ended up in the fae realm. Your brother’s been playing spouse to the Queen all this time. Good thing he did, too, or he would have been killed.”

Ephraim came to kneel on the floor, taking Margie’s spotted hands. Benny swallowed hard against tears that tried to rise up when he saw that. She was so…. Old. Lady Death was standing behind her, practically. Ephraim had warned him about this part of being a vampire, and he had been ready to handle it when he thought he would be able to spend all of these years watching these people, his sister, grow old. But no. He’d been taken, gone for what felt like 16 years and came back to find his sister about to return home to the great beyond. 

There wasn't enough time.

Margie turned her eyes back to Benjamin, hardened with time and grief, but still the same woman who always called him foolish and a ‘man who attracts trouble like seeds attract birds.’ And despite the pain he saw there, he was glad to see her eyes and mind were clear. “Benny…. I have an apology to make to you and to Ephraim. I had thought you dead. I had lost hope. I am sorry. I should have believed…..”

Ephraim put a hand on her knee. “Don’t you worry, Margie. Hope is painful, and I hoped enough for the both of us.”

“If it helps at all,” Benny said, almost in a whisper, “I… I didn’t feel abandoned.”

“PSHAW! Probably because you were charmed out of your mind!” she said in a high croaking voice. “Foolish man! Trouble maker, that you are. Spouse of the Queen, indeed. Foolish. So very foolish!”

Tears were spilling from her eyes, following the creases and wrinkles as she slowly leaned forward, bones popping and creaking as she wrapped her arms around Benny. 

Benny buried his face in her shoulder, the tears and sobs fully escaping. He didn’t want to mourn the lost time. He needed to focus on the time he had now with his sister, with his mentor. But it just wasn’t fair. He’d lost so much time, so much blood and memory, so much innocence, so much of himself, and for what!? For what!?

He felt Ephraim rub his back as he cried. Ephraim understood. He always seemed to understand. It was a small comfort in the abyss of grief and confusion Benny found himself in. 

And maybe it would be enough. He wasn’t alone. Not anymore. And he still had time with Margie. He was so very lucky to have been found before she… before-

The man he’d passed at the door cleared his throat. “So, ah, are those fae out in the garden with Hyrum?”

Ephraim started. “Oh, yes. I’ll need to explain that. You two catch up, alright? I’ll come bug you later, Margie. Looks like there’s no rest for the wicked.”

“I should hope not,” Margie huffed. “Making us all worry all winter and spring. You have a lot to answer for.”

Ephraim left with a laugh and a wave, and the door closed on Benny and Margie, years apart and yet still as close as the day Benny was taken to the fae realms. 

Epilogue

Hey you! Yes you! I want to have a sort of askathon about this story once this is done. Have questions about this story? Meta or clarifications on cannon? Please send them so I can answer some as a celebration of finishing this series. Thank you so so much for reading this series, and I hope you will enjoy the epilogue. If you are reading this way after the series is over, still feel free to send in asks. It is good for a writer to remember the stories they have created, even if they are over. <3

Clove Taglist: @wolfeyedwitch @the-blind-one-speaks @whumpsday @extrabitterbrain @inkkswhumpandstuff 

@honeycollectswhump @whump-blog-reblogs @pigeonwhumps @mj-or-say10 @percy-frayer 

@currentlyinthesprial @scoundrelwithboba @whumps-and-bumps @hellodecisionparalysis @scatteriskity

[lyrichi]

Falling

Hey guyys!!! so erm I found some of my old writing and was lowkey tweaking over it so.... lololol posting time!!

~1k words and there might be mistakes, this is also supposed to be sanegiyu but no names are mentioned so go off chat <33

I used to think he hated me. Hated the world and cursed its creations for existing in his presence. I thought that he would go to bed praying for my downfall. For the downfall of humanity; of life, the natural order. 

The look in his eyes had said it all. Blank and cold, a vat of forgotten emotions that only became more distant as the days went on, voids that went on for a millennia. 

When we spared, his expressions changed slightly, and I liked that. But no matter how hard I tried I couldn't bring life into his eyes. I would often catch myself wanting to stare endlessly into the grayish expanse of them, wondering how bright the blue was, hidden behind that greyish hue. 

When we argued, his eyes pushed further. They pushed away from me, yet pushed for me to look deeper; to find the chest of suppressed emotions locked away in the far corners of his mind. 

When we sat together, he almost looked hollow. He was a husk of whoever his former self was. He would sip at his tea quietly and stare holes into the table, refusing to make conversation. I wouldn’t have been able to speak with him without blurting out something I would have regretted. 

I had always had a hundred questions to ask him. About his long dark hair, his clothing, the way he held himself.

His confidence had infuriated me. I wanted to know more about him and why he would utter words that placed him above the rest of us. Why he would isolate himself and refuse to interact with anyone. Why he would refuse to look us in the eye. Why he wouldn’t cooperate. 

I found myself wanting to know him. To be his friend. 

I started noticing the little things about him. The way his hair would sway softly when he walked ahead of me. The way he would grip his sleeves when he didn’t know what to say. The way he would blush at any complement. 

I would find myself staring at him. Admiring him, adoring the smallest of things that he would do. His eyes would light up at the animals we passed on the street, a ghost of a smile on his face. 

His happiness was contagious. 

I wanted more of it. I wanted him to be happy. 

I soon found myself hanging out with him. Taking him to his favorite restaurants, watching his favorite movies, visiting his favorite stores. He would always refuse to let me pay for him. 

I insisted of course. Watching the subtle changes in his stoic exterior was a more than fair trade. I had wanted to get a reaction out of him for years now, and I had just managed to wedge my way into his emotions.

I grew fond of him in a way that I never thought I would. I wanted to to see more of him. The way he cried, the way he laughed, the way he slept. I wanted to be with him forever.

I had no way of knowing if he felt the same way. I had made so much progress, and I wasn't going to ruin it.

Days turned to weeks. Weeks to months. My fondness had mirrored that of a crush developed in elementary school.

I couldn't help but feel weak to him. To the way his eyes softened at the sight of me.

I wanted to bottle his hopes and fears into a mason jar. Keep them for myself to look at like a cocooning butterfly. I could feel myself marveling at each crumb of vulnerability I could get from him.

I still hated him. I really did. I hated when he would retreat back into his shell. I hated when his eyes became just as distant as before. I hated when he would close himself off to other people around us.

I couldn't help but fall.

It was hard to admit at first. But I loved him. It was a love that transcended boundaries and imperfections.

I loved when the weight of the world seemed to lift from his shoulders and he would allow himself to live. I saw glimpses of a soul so beautifully broken, a beautiful stain-glass painting installed in the front and center of the most intricate cathedral.

He was a puzzle I couldn't solve. Layers upon layers to his complexities, each one more intricate than the last. I wanted to unravel him, ruin and tear apart is stoic front. I had never liked that part of him anyway.

So, I remained with him, subtly wedging myself further into his life. We shared countless moments together – laughter, tears, whispered secrets in the dead of night.

There was always a lingering part of him that remained distant. I couldn't pry it out of him no matter how hard I had tried. The layers around his heart had solidified with years of solitude.

I had begun to realize that his hate for the world was only that of a mirror. It was himself who he hated. He kept me at an arms-length.

I wanted to be the one he let in.

I wanted to hold his hands and kiss him.

I wanted him to see himself the way I saw him.

The change in him was subtle. Like a sunflower following the sun's path through the sky. He would smile. He would engage in conversation. He would stare right back at me.

We were laying next to each other in the dead of night when I had spoke my truth to him. I thought he was asleep, lying by my side with his head resting on the soft pillow to my right. He had his arm draped over my chest, his legs curled up loosely near my own.

I had looked over at him, an endearing smile appearing on my face at the pure sight of him. I couldn't keep it to myself, it had come out in the domesticity of the moment.

Those three endearing words falling from my lips in a soft whisper.

"I love you."

[wisecrackingeric-2]

“New Years”

Rating: G

Word Count: 3,540

Summary: Leon falls asleep on the couch during a New Year’s party with their friends, so Luis takes it upon himself to carry him outside and cuddle him on the couch while watching the rain.

And all the while, Luis reminisces internally on the life he lived, the person he’s become, and his love for Leon.

A/N: I’ve left everything I wanted to say to all my readers in the notes of the fic on AO3, so if you could go and read it all, that would mean the whole entire world to me :) <<<33

Fic under Cut!!

Luis wondered a lot what death would look like.

He kind of had to, really- it always felt like an inevitable. Unavoidable. He always imagined himself dying young; drowning in a pool of his own mistakes, choking on the blood he caused with his own hands. Maybe he’d inhale too much smoke, maybe he’d toy with the line between curiosity and danger a little too harshly-

Either way, Luis never planned very far ahead. He could never imagine himself settling down or finding somebody to love forever and ever. He accepted that long ago; that as long as he was alive, death was close to follow suit.

He just hoped that death would be peaceful. Like falling asleep and waking up in a crowded room full of your loved ones.

So adjusting to the opposite- adjusting to a new life full of people who cared about him, a man who’d love him until the end of time, a stable home, a steady job- it didn’t come naturally to Luis. Far from it, in fact.

He had to fight tooth and nail to get the people in Leon’s life to trust him fully. That he was OK with, though; he was used to getting his hands (nonmetaphorically) dirty to survive. But what he wasn’t used to was seeing his efforts actually pay off.

Rebecca worked in the BSAA’s laboratories close by his side completely by choice. Chris offered for him to stay the night at his place when Leon was away. Hell, even Jill loaned him the keys to her car when his broke down;

It was almost domestic in nature. Like Luis had his own circle of support outside of Leon.

No- he did have support outside of Leon now. He had people who cared about him. People who wanted to see the best in him. People who looked past his mistakes. People who loved him.

Luis needed to keep reminding himself of that.

But he wasn’t alone, at least.

He has Leon to help with that seemingly oh-so difficult task every single day of his life.

Even when Leon didn’t realize it- he was reminding Luis that he was loved and cared for with every little action he gave. From soft morning kisses in bed, to cooking him a small breakfast before work, to picking him up in the afternoons to take him on little coffee dates;

Sometimes it felt like the smaller, more menial moments meant far more to Luis than any loud declaration of love ever could.

Which was ironic, cuz loud declarations of love were Luis’ specialty;

He’d taken after his childhood hero Don Quixote in that way. He’d taken after him in many-a ways- but performing flowery speeches and winding poems of love were one of the dozens of talents Luis had picked up from his beloved book. And, hell, they clearly worked- because people adored them.

Even when he wasn’t trying to be painfully romantic, they still worked- and the evening Luis found himself in was no exception. He could spin jokes and tell tall tales to Claire, Rebecca, Chris and Jill like there was no tomorrow- and they hung into his every word with an almost childlike curiosity. Ashley saw through this, though. It was far from an act Luis was putting on- it’s not like he was lying about any of his stories- but she of all people knew how genuine Luis was in the way he expressed his emotions. Ashley of all people knew especially how much being perceived as chivalrous and quixotic meant to him.

It was one of the few things he could control in life. And one of the few genuine things he could give back to people. He liked seeing others smile; it made him feel like he was doing something truly good.

But as much as Luis was a talker; he was equal parts a listener. Moreso, even. The longer the New Years Eve party went on, the quieter Luis found himself becoming, ironically- choosing to lean against the wall in the corner of the kitchen and watch his friends laugh about their own inside jokes and lates mishaps on missions like it was only yesterday they’d just come back from them. Hell, maybe it was only yesterday- Luis lost track of the conversation after letting his eyes dip close one too many times. He’d lost track of time entirely, in fact; which was a very new feeling for him.

He’d always kept track of time. Minutes. Hours. Days. He had to keep track of these arbitrary numbers or else he ran the risk of succumbing to the Plagas or his own madness. It was a tiring cycle; a cycle he didn’t even realize was so exhausting until Leon pulled him out of it.

For the first time in years, Luis let himself loose track of time.

He felt safe. He felt at home.

He’d lost so much throughout his life. Every home he had- His Grandfather, and every home he built for himself- His Dream Team at Umbrella… it’d all come crumbling down around him one way or another eventually. And Luis would be lying if he said he didn’t miss it. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t miss his Grandfather’s baritone voice or the makeshift Birthday Parties Umbrella would haphazardly throw for their employees.

But Leon brought that all back to him.

He loved Luis like he was apart of him. His other half. His person. And Luis did the same.

Leon built him a home he could feel safe in; a home that wouldn’t be destroyed. Leon caressed him every night and listened to him ramble and read him stories in his terrible attempt at Spanish whenever he asked-

He woke Luis from his nightmares and dried his tears with gentle kisses. He’s put Chris or Rebecca on the phone to tell him a stupid joke just to cheer him up.

Leon gave him everything. And Luis just prayed to God that he could give him the same back, too. Even if it was just in little ways.

Speaking of…

“You’re Husband looks dead to the world, Luis,”

Claire playfully jeered from the other side of the room, her smile hidden behind a glass of wine as Luis was practically snapped back to reality, blinking his big brown eyes like a newborn deer. He almost forgot they’d gotten married- that Luis had proposed to Leon with one of his own rings.

“¿Q-Que-?”

“Leon,”

Jill chirped up and gently jabbed his side with her elbow, nodding her head towards the couch on the opposite end of the small and homely apartment where, past Rebecca and Chris standing beside a doubled-down-with-laughter Ashley, was Leon; his head propped up with the heel of his hand and his eyes already closed as he seemingly instinctively curled up against the throw couch pillows sleepily.

It took pretty much every muscle in Luis’ body not to audibly coo and melt into a puddle right then and there. Claire and Jill were right; Leon was fast asleep in the middle of a New Year’s party. To say that was adorable would be an understatement.

“Gracias, señorita,”

Luis playfully flicked his wrist at Jill, causing her to scrunch her nose up with a smile.

“I’ll go rescue my Prince Charming from his slumber, eh?”

“Don’t let him miss out on the countdown!” Claire raised her glass towards the clock on the wall. 11:45 PM, it read. Luis shook his head and gave her an affectionate wink as he passed,

“Oh, no, I’d never let him miss out on such a monumental moment”

“He’ll bug you about it for weeks if you don’t”

Luis shot the both of them a quick grin,

“I’ll take my chances.”

Luis wasn’t sure how much better he knew Leon compared to his friends, but he knew for certain that his partner would infinitely rather sleep though the New Years Countdown than force himself to stay awake for it- he hardly got any sleep, after all. Missions kept him on his feet like a waking zombie.

Luis gently sat down next to Leon on the couch, carefully positioning himself so his weight didn’t dip the cushions enough to wake his Sleeping Beauty up.

He couldn’t help but just… stare at Leon for a few moments.

Seeing his partner so genuinely at peace was such a rarity for the both of them. Even early in the mornings when the two still had time to lie in bed, Leon would still insist on waking up first and getting himself dressed for no particular occasion.

Pure rest was hard to come by for the both of them- so Luis didn’t dare move a muscle to try and wake his lover. Despite the fact that the music was blaring and the people walking in circles around them were cackling louder than the showtunes on the radio.

“ Oh my gosh,” Ashley practically gasped at the sight; he voice lowered to a whisper despite it not being necessary. Luis flashed her a smile.

“ Is he asleep??”

“Yeah,”

Luis was practically giggling like a teenage girl, brushing a few stray strands of hair out of Leon’s face- his eyelashes fluttering against his freckles cheeks.

“ I might take him outside. Y’know, where it’s a little quieter”

Ashley made a noise that was somewhere between a squeak and an ‘ aaaaaawwweee!! ’, her hands clasped over her toothy grin.

“ That is so cute, oh my gosh!! He won’t wake up if you carry him, will he?? Wait, no- do you need help carrying him out?”

Luis huffed a laugh at Ashley’s genuine worry- giving her a quick peck on the cheek to ease her woes.

“ Your Príncipe will be just fine, Mariposa- And if he does wake up, I’ll just kiss him to sleep again”

Ashley gently shoved his arm, “ I don’t think that’s how the story goes… I think it’s the opposite way, Luis”

“Nah. You’re mad. Mad as a crazed man”

This caused Ashley to double down into laughter- clutching her stomach as Luis couldn’t help but giggle along at her amusement. He took the opportunity to slip his arms under Leon’s knees and back while Ashley was distracted, lifting his partner up with a slight grunt bridal-style.

Luis still struggled with his back from time to time. Most of the time, actually- and while tonight seemed to be one of his ‘better days’, those were, unfortunately, very few and far between.

Most of the time it just… ached. A guttural, bone-deep kind of ache that he could never assign a name for even on the best of days. Sometimes it was easy for him to stand on shaky legs and make his way to the other end of their shared apartment- but on other days, Luis genuinely couldn’t get out of bed. The pain gripped him so harshly that even his own medications wouldn’t provide him any relief.

There was a time where Luis refused those medications, too. Penance, he had said; a worthy punishment for his crimes. He knew now that it was just plain and simple self-harm, but that didn’t stop him from trying.

And oh, how he tried.

But, as always… Leon pulled him out of those endlessly deep waters tooth-and-nail. He spent many-a sleepless nights at Luis’ bedside just cooing to him and softly trying to convince him to just take his medications. And eventually, his struggles paid off. Luis didn’t think he’d have as much confidence and self-worth as he did now without that gentle push from Leon. But never once did his partner complain, no; he loved him back like it was as easy as breathing.

Hell, even on nights where Luis tossed and turned- back wet and eyebrows knit together as he dreamt of the knife to his back, the Plagas wriggling around in his chest, the machine that tore his skin apart to remove it- Leon was always there, always by his side, to hold his hand and be there for him when he woke.

So carrying his lover Bridal-Style away from the crowded party and through the fly-mask screen door outside onto the balcony was the least he could do.

The screeeeeeeeeeck of the plasticky door handle was enough to get Leon stirring- because, somehow, picking him up and moving him halfway across the room wasn’t enough already- and Luis noticed near-immediately that his boyfriends eyes had started fluttering. So, as much as he wanted to dust the cushions off, Luis swiftly took a seat on one of the outdoor couches that sat tucked up against the corner of the balcony- it smelt old and it was far from soft. Weather-worn from spending years outside. Bugs buzzed around the blueish overhead light, occasionally flying close to Luis’ hair.

But he didn’t mind. As long as Leon didn’t wake up.

“ Luis…?”

Ah, damnit.

“ Amoooorrr,”

Luis cooed, placing an arm around Leon’s side as he coaxed his head back onto his lap, running his free hand through that dusty-blonde hair he’d gotten familiar with gently grasping onto.

“You should be asleep, no?”

“ Rrrwe outside…?”

Leon’s words were slurred and probably almost entirely intelligible if it weren’t for the fact that Luis knew him well enough to know what he was trying to say. He nodded,

“Sí. You were falling asleep on the couch inside. Figured being out here might be a little nicer for you”

Leon didn’t respond at first. He just rubbed his eyes and yawned; and Luis felt his heart squeeze at the sight. Leon instinctively curled against Luis’ lap even further, and his lover took that as a sign to gently drape the thin-fabric blanket over his body and card his fingers through his hair lovingly.

“ It’s nice,”

Leon finally mumbled.

“ ‘S quiet. But, like, I can still hear everyone inside.. just… muffled.”

That much was true. Through the fly-screen door, the distant sound of music and laughter and drinks being clinked together bounced off of the ceramic-tile floors and echoed along the balcony. It was nice. Comforting. Comforting to know that the people who loved them both were just a door away.

Luis couldn’t remember the last time he experienced something quite like this. Maybe when he was a child, after late-night Church ceremonies, when his Grandfather would pick him up and drape his tired body over his shoulders while waving goodbye to their neighbors- the distant sounds of bells and singing and laughter growing more and more distant the closer to their little cabin they got. Laughter would be replaced with the soft swooshes of water lapping against the shore, yet those bells could still be heard if he listened out hard enough. Even as he fell asleep Luis could swear he could hear the scratches of his Grandfather’s pen against paper from the other room.

It was funny how some things just… never changed.

‘Funny.’ More like terrifying.

Guilt and anxiety were very, very powerful feelings, Luis had learnt. He’d spent a very large majority of his life totally convinced that he was a bad person; that he’d hurt everybody and everyone around him and that the cycle of death and destruction that seemed to follow in his wake everywhere he went would never end. He’d forced himself to accept that, a long, long time ago- that there was no opportunity of forgiveness for him. That he was always doomed to make the same mistakes over and over and hurt everyone who’d ever loved him and never be worthy of change. Never be worthy of love. But that didn’t stop the deep, nagging voice in the back of his throat that longed for hope. That crazy, almost quixotic desperation for a better life- a life he would fight tooth-and-nail for. That he’d get his knuckles bloody and bruised over. That he’s loose teeth and morals for.

And learning that his cycles could be broken, and that he was deserving of love was… hard. It was hard to accept change. It was hard to sit with and come to terms with all of the people he had hurt and still accept love from others- from Leon. But once again…

Leon loved him so easily, it felt like breathing. And Luis would be a damned dishonest liar if he didn’t admit that loving Leon back felt just as easy as spinning his lighter between his fingers.

It was just hard to understand why Leon loved him. It was hard to carry around reminders of the things he had done and still live a good life in spite of them all- it was hard to accept good things in life, and even harder to pick up and carry the good things that had happened in the past, too.

But he wasn’t alone anymore. He didn’t have to be alone anymore- he knew Leon faced many of the same trials and tribulations as he did. But just like his nicknamesake Sancho Panza, Luis would never leave his side as his Don Quixote, and vice versa. No matter what adventures their lives took them on, they’d always have each other.

They were completely, and utterly devoted to each other. In every way, in every universe.

“The rain is nice…”

Luis jumped slightly; not expecting Leon’s voice to break him out of his thoughts. He hadn’t even noticed that there was any rain at all- but once he noticed, he couldn’t tear his eyes off of it. The thundering against the plastic shutters and the slow, methodical drips of water dipping past the cover was enough to make Luis himself feel sleepy. But he had a Prince Charming to keep an eye on.

“I thought you fell asleep, ¿mi vida?”

“M’ tryin’ not to…”

Luis couldn’t help but chuckle; Leon’s sleepy and relaxed voice made his chest feel soft and pliable in all the best ways possible. He continued running his fingers through Leon’s hair, subconsciously pulling out his lighter from his pocket and twirling it in small circles between his fingers.

“You can fall asleep if you want to,” Luis assured, “I can wake you up when the countdown starts, if that’s what you’re worried about..”

“Don’ care about the countdown…”

Leon let out a big, long sigh and snuggled his head further into Luis’ lap, curling the blanket around himself further.

“I jus’ wan’ be with you..”

“But I’m right here?”

“Yeah, but like… I don’t wanna, like, fall asleep, an’ just leave you all by y’self on the couch here”

Luis had to physically restrain himself from sobbing and kissing Leon right then and there.

“I’ll be fine, amor,”

He instead chose to lean down and gently place a kiss on top of Leon’s messy, mop-like blonde hair, his eyelashes fluttering shut for just a moment.

“I’d rather you get some rest. You clearly need it”

“Y’ sure you don’t mind?”

“ Sin duda.”

“But what about-“

“ Leon, Sancho, love of my life,”

Luis grinned boyishly and ruffled his lovers hair,

“Get some rest, por favor. For me?”

Luis heard Leon let out a big, long, and expectedly tired sigh.

“…Ok. Thank you, dove”

“No need to thank me,”

Luis leaned down once more and kissed the side of his head once again,

“ I’ll be right here when you wake up. Te lo prometo.”

And just like that, Leon fell back asleep quicker than Luis could finish the twirl of his lighter. He clearly needed the rest.

His gentle snores, soft rising of his shoulders and the pitter-patter of rain was enough to make Luis feel totally at ease- and the distant, muffled and warm sounds of laughter from inside of the house had just about sent Luis into his own slumber himself.

Yes, Luis wondered a lot what death would look like. But he was no longer scared of it. He hoped it was like falling asleep on the couch during a house party as a child and being carried to your room by your parents to be tucked into bed.

He knew he lived a good life. He knew he had people who loved him, and that was more than enough for him.

If Luis died tomorrow, he wouldn’t mind all that much. He’d be happy with where he was, and who he loved.

He’d be happy that he chose love. He’d be happy that he chose Leon.

And he’d be happy that Leon chose him back, too.

“The countdowns starting!!”

A voice from inside- Ashley, if he had to guess- yelled out through the walls. Luis instinctively snuggled Leon in closer, his eyes fixated on the rain.

Leon didn’t wake up. But he didn’t need to.

“3!!!”

“2!!”

“1!”

“Happy New Years!!!!!”

Luis leaned down to kiss Leon on the forehead once more. He was still asleep.

“ Te amo, Leon..”

He whispered into his ear. Barely audible above the rain and the cheering from inside.

‘ I love you ’ felt like too weak of a sentence to describe just how Luis felt about Leon. It didn’t encapsulate everything that man meant to him.

But it didn’t have to. It would be enough.

Leon loved him back. He knew that. And that was enough.

They’d always be enough.

“… And Happy New Year.”