#i wish the universe would be kinder to me n my family. for once. because it feels like everything's jsut getting worse n its all fallingapar

[arcadequeerz]

feel like i should apologize for being so inactive.

[moonlitstoriess]

Across the Universe-ch.3 (Fenrys x Reader)

Summary: Y/n has everything she needs in life. A family, friends, a safe place she calls home and most importantly a male whom she loves. What happens when it all changes when Y/n finds out about the betrayal of her lover and her so called family? Well, ending up in Terassen and in queen Aelin's court was not what she expected but what she will need to start her new journey full of surprises.

Warnings: Traumatic flashback, brief description of SA, abuse.

See masterlist

A/n: Hey guys! Just a heads up, I gave a brief description of y/n here but nothing too specific as in the end, I want you to imagine yourselves in y/n's place. Hope you enjoy this :)))

Following the Illyrian traditions was very important. Submitting to the males wishes, their desires and orders, being a proper house maid was the future of almost every female unfortunate enough to be born in Illyria. This point was confirmed once more as she stood near the stove in the kitchen, silently humming to herself with the hopes of drowning out the ugly laughters of him and his male friends in the dining room, drinking and burying themselves in all the fat and gluttony.

"Y/n, sweetheart, come here!" There it was, that deceptively caring voice that only came out when he was so drunk that he could not even tell the difference between a goblet and a chamber pot, drinking ale from the latter and declaring it the finest vintage in all the realm.

She knew better than to argue or even think of putting up a fight.

When she entered the room, there were 3 other males with him, all smirking at her while greedily looking up and down her body with eyes that held hunger within them. At that moment, as he got up and went to lock the door behind her, y/n realized her fate. She wanted nothing more than to die right then and there.

"Sweetness, why don't you give us a show first?" one of them said, giving her a disgusting cruel smile that displayed his rotting, yellow teeth.

And so, as her 16 year old body was forcefully defiled all night long by these vile monsters, as her pleas fell on deaf ears, as they slapped and cut her up for their pleasure, y/n knew that hell would be kinder to her than Illyria and its males.

Y/n's eyes shot open as she immediately jumped up to a sitting position on the bed with a racing heart and a sweat covered body. It had been a while since these nightmares last happened to her. Visions of those horrible, dark times. They started coming back right when Azriel stopped sleeping with her. Now it seems that they have just gotten worse.

"Shhh, oh you poor child, you are safe now."

Y/n turned her head around to see an older female, with graying hair rubbing her back in comforting circles.

She did not have the energy to use her voice, so y/n whispered, "Who are you? Where am I?"

The woman smiled as she calmly explained, "My name is Isolde and I am one of the head royal healers. You are in the healing hut where I have been taking care of you for the past one day."

"I have been in this state for a whole day?"

"Yes. After you passed out, Aedion was meant to come find me but it seemed like Fenrys had a different plan. Oh, you should have seen him when he winnowed here. He was frantic! I never saw him so worried before. He laid you down here on the hut and only said 'Help her, please.' Then he winnowed again and left you here in my care. In the past day, her majesty queen Aelin and the lady Lysandra came down here twice to check up on you, but you were still unconscious."

Fenrys was worried about her? Of course he was worried. They were all worried because y/n is their captive and they could not have her dead before they got the information they needed out of her.

With a scoff, she turned her head around to inspect the room. There were two rows of beds here on each side of the wall and two circular windows at each end of the room. Multiple shelves and tables around the place contained all sorts of books, medications, and some kinds of herbs. The light coming from the afternoon sun cast a comforting glow around the room.

The healer got up and began to gently inspect y/n as she said, "Her majesty said to bring you to her once you were better again. There is a washroom just outside this door on the left and inside you will also find some clothes. Although it was quite challenging to find a shirt that would somehow go through your wings which is why I washed your old shirt and put it back there."

That is when y/n looked down and realized that she was wearing some sort of chest binds and underpants. Oh Cauldron boil her...they had to strip her naked? At her worried face the female replied with a knowing smile, "Yes, I saw your scars and burns but do not worry, I was the only one who changed your clothes so your secret shall go with me to my grave. I swear it."

Slightly embarassed, but grateful nonetheless, she nodded her head and wordlessly padded to the washroom. After washing up and changing into a fresh and comfortable set of brown pants, her old, long sleeved shirt, and new, knee high light brown boots, y/n left the washroom and followed the healer out towards wherever this queen wanted them to be at.

When Fenrys got word from Aelin that y/n was finally awake and that Isolde would bring her to the formal sitting room soon, he immediately raced through the woods in his wolf form to reach the palace in time. He did not know why or how but Fenrys was definetly feeling something unusual and foreign whenever he was around her.

He remembers how, two days ago when Rowan felt y/n's presence within Terassen's teritorry and sent him to investigate, Fenrys did not expect to be dumbfounded by this winged female lying unconscious on the ground. She was ethereal. Her gorgeous, soft hair that he suddenly felt like running his fingers through, her plump, full lips, gentle yet defined features that made her look like a work of art. But most importantly, her unique and breathtaking black wings that seemed to glitter under the sunlight.

And then, when he winnowed them to the formal meeting room, he felt her nervousness and wanted nothing more than to make her feel safe. It did not help that being right behind her meant that he could smell her delicious scent of jasmine and peach. He remembers how, when Rowan took y/n's air out, Fenrys had this sudden and animalistic urge to kill him. Rowan, his closest companion for so many centuries, suddenly became his number one enemy.

Lastly, when y/n fell unconscious again because of shock...Fenrys could not even understand his own actions. He was supposed to wait just like everyone else until Aedion called someone but...he could not stand there and watch her lie unmoving, so he immediately winnowed her to Isolde. Even though he did not visit y/n after that, he would unsuspiciously ask everyone for updates on her. He knew he should not care but, whatever this silly thing inside him was made him care for some foolish reason.

"So what if she fell unconscious? We still need to keep our eyes on her every move. If our assumptions are true, she is a stranger from a completely different world."

Lorcans voice brought Fenrys back from his thoughts as he watched his family argue over y/n and her fate. Lorcan and Elide arrived just this morning from Perranth after Aelin sent word to them.

"I agree. But she also did not seem like a big threat either. She looked quite shocked when she realized what was happening." Lysandra said while glaring at Lorcan.

"And? it all may have just been a part of her innocent act to reach whatever her goal is."

"Lorcan please calm down, we will se-" Elide was cut off by Lysandras voice.

"You really are a soulles creature then aren't you? Gods...She fell unconscious!! How do you act that out?" Lysandra was staring daggers at him.

"Lorcan is right. Unconscious or not, she is a threat to us for as long as she is in here."

"Really Rowan? I ca-"

"Alright that has been sufficient enough, you three." Aelin said as she gave a pointed look to her mate, Lysandra and Lorcan before continuing, "We won't know anything until we speak to her and that means, we also can not come to any conclusions until we get her side of the story. So either you act like rational beings and we interrogate her properly, or you can just leave the room right at this moment because I do not wish to deal with any additional headaches right now." Her queen side truly came out as those turquoise eyes looked harshly at everyone, including Fenrys, and especially at Lorcan.

But no one could say anything else because the doors opened and in walked Isolde with y/n behind her and Fenrys once again had this urge to be near her and protect her from the unavoidable interrogation that was about to happen. She had an indifferent facial expression on that could fool anyone else but not him. Because for some reason, Fenrys could scent her discomfort and curiosity as her eyes looked around the room.

Y/n noted that his room was different from the previous one. Because while the previous one had different colors, this one was covered in various shades of green starting with pale and ending with forest dark. The floor was covered in a beige and green floral patterned rug, in the center there was a small, circular, golden brown table and on each side of it there was a green couch with hints of silver in their patterns. There also was a white marble fireplace that was currently empty. Finally, on each side of the fireplace, there were two floor to ceiling windows that displayed the gardens outside.

The strangers from the other day were all here, some sitting on the couches while others were standing in the center, but there were also two new strangers that she did not recognize. The extremely tall, tan, muscled man with brown hair that reached his shoulders was not the type that could be overlooked. It was as if his presence always demanded attention. Not to mention the fact that those threatening dark eyes were currently staring at her. If looks could kill, y/n would already be dead. Next to him, was a very small, pale woman with dark black hair and the most adorable face. She was also staring at y/n, but unlike the intimidating beast next to her, she was smiling with genuine kindness.

And then there was Fenrys who was leaning against the wall near the window, staring at her. His arms were crossed which made the impressively large muscles under his white tunic bulge and that made her feel hot all over her body. But, she managed to reign in her feelings and stood stoic faced looking straight at the blond, blue eyed female who was now walking closer to y/n.

"Well, I hope you are feeling better now." The female said, standing face to face with her and assesing y/n with her eyes.

"I am, thanks to Isolde." Y/n turned her head sideways and gave the healer, who was standing next to the door, a small yet genuine smile which Isolde returned.

"Yes. Well, she is our head healer for a reason after all. Thank you Isolde, you may leave now."

Isolde did a small bow and then turned to leave. Once the door closed, Y/n's cold facial expression came back on while looking at the female before her and already mapping out her potential exits from the room. She managed find a small but sharp needle in the washroom so, that was her only weapon as her knife was taken from her when she was unconscious. It is not like y/n was sad about it anyways because that knife was gifted to her by Azriel for their 50th anniversary.

"Y/n, come sit. Don't worry no one is going to hurt you...yet." The blond said with a small smirk as if expecting her to be afraid.

But y/n had seen and been through worse situations when she was working for Rhysand and had to go on missions with Cassian or Azriel. Her name though, how did they kn- Oh, yes, well of course Fenrys told them. Y/n cursed herself for ever revealing her name to him and went to sit on the empty couch without showing an ounce of fear. They could interrogate her all they like but they could never break her.

When she saw the tatooed male opening his mouth to say something, she crossed her arms and said with an indifferent tone, "Shouldn't I know your names? I mean, I could refer to each of you by your hair colors like 'silver hair' or 'ugly brown hair'..." at that she gave a look at the tall brooding man and continued, "but I would really rather call you by your names."

The blond female fully smirked before saying, "My name is Aelin and I am the queen of this teritorry. The 'silver hair' is prince consort Rowan and my mate."

"My name is Elide and I am the lady of Perranth" the small woman said while smiling sweetly at y/n before pointing to the still angry-looking giant beside her and saying, "he is my husband, Lorcan. Please do not be afraid of him he is just-"

"Acting like a baby? Do not worry Elide I am not afraid of men that seem threatened by my presence. It adds to my ego and confidence." Y/n said with a smirk as Lorcan got visibly angrier at her while someone on the other side of the room let out a small chuckle.

Aelin was full on smiling when y/n heard another voice, "Finally! Someone who can put Lorcan in his place. My name is Lysandra by the way" the brown eyed female said with a wink. Lastly, leaning against the couch was Aelin's look a like who, with cold eyes that were assesing her said, "Aedion." It seems like all the males here hate her. Well, how fantastic!

"And that is Fenrys, whom I believe you are already acquinted with." Aelin said, gesturing to him. Fenrys, still stuck to his place by the wall, only gave her a quick and wordless nod before looking away.

Rowan sat on the couch facing her and said, "Now, since we cleared that up, y/n, tell us where you are from."

Y/n sighed before telling them about her world, but still keeping some information hidden from them. She told them about the different courts, the type of fae, of Illyria and her wings, the mortal lands and the wars.

When she was finished, they each had different facial expressions while processing what y/n just said. Aedion, seemingly the only one to quickly gather his thoughts asked, "Then, in your world...Prythian? there are many who like you, have wings."

She nodded before saying, "Yes, these wings are specific to Illyria. Those who are from there have these black, bat-like wings. But there also are those with white, feathery wings. For instance, in the Dawn court. Those are called Peregryn."

Rowan asked her next, "And the Night court is where you work?"

"Worked. I was there for 52 years serving its High lord. But then...let's just say I was betrayed. In fact, I was packing my things and getting ready to leave right before I ended up here."

"So you just suddenly ended up here?" Elide asked curiously from her place on the couch right next to Lorcan who had one hand within reach of his knife and the other on Elide's waist. Y/n smirked, he thinks he is so slick but she has already memorized the ways of those like him. Always ready to attack. Which, if he does dare to attempt, the long and sharp needle in her pocket will find its way quicker to his throat than the knife in his hand will reach her.

"No, while I was getting ready to leave, I heard a voice calling me. I did not understand what it was saying and then, I got this deep urge within me to go find its source. So I flew to where it was and found that it was the Book of Breathings that was calling me all along."

At their puzzled faces, y/n asked, "You do know about the Book of Breathings, yes?"

Lysandra and Aelin exchanged a confused yet slightly alarmed look before the former asked, "Should we be aware of it?"

Oh, they definetly had no idea. With no other choices left, y/n explained all about the 3 objects of the Trove, how they managed to gather them, or rather how Nesta managed to gather them, and finally about the Book of Breathings.

Aelin, still seemingly deep in thought said, "That is how you won your war then."

"Well, we also had the upper hand because there were 3 of the most ancient beings, Gods of a sort, fighting on our side. My at the time high lady and high lord made deals with them in order to make them fight for us."

At that, Aelin scoffed, "How fortunate that the Gods in your world atleast agreed to aid you in your wars."

At y/n's puzzled look, Aedion smirked as he said, "My cousin killed the Gods of our world. One of her many titles is Godskiller."

To say y/n was shocked would be an understatement "How? I mean...how do you just manage to kill the Gods? How is that possible?"

Everyone in the room apart for y/n shared a look before Rowan said, "You told us about your world, it is only fair that we tell you about ours."

And so, they all,except Lorcan because he is still a brooding child, took part in explaining her all about their world. They told her about Wyrdgates, Valgs, the king of Adarlan, the Wyrdkeys, the Iron Witches and their matrons, their Wyverns, Maeve, Erawan, the war at Orynth, how Aelin managed to close the gates with her powers, and lastly, about the sacrifice of the Blackbeak witches that gave the upper hand for them to win the final battle. This all happened 3 years ago. It was clear that they left out quite a few things and by the stern looks Aelin was sometimes giving to them, it was about her but y/n did not blame them. After all, she also left out information about how the Night court or any other court in Prythian works, what is Velaris and what was her position at court, how skilled she is at war or just fighting in general, her age, Amarantha's 50 year reign and most definetly, her past.

Y/n had never heard so many shocking revelations at once. What on earth did they go through? So many innocents were being forced to wear chockers or rings with whatever those demons were? The fae of Erilea were definetly different from those in Prythian. But what spiked her curiosity the most, was the information she got on the Ironteeth, Blackbeak witches. Apparently, her wings were similar to those of their Wyverns and from what they told her, y/n felt like she would get along well with them.

She turned her head towards Aelin and asked, "So, now you have no powers left?"

Aelin sighed and came down to sit next to her, which made Rowan immediately come to stand right behind her at the edge of the sofa, watching y/n with a gaze that dared her to even try doing something to his mate and queen. Y/n genuinely smiled, how impressive (and romantic) that he loves and protects her so much.

"Well, I gave most of it away but, there is still a little bit left in me. Not large enough to burn down a forest or create a fire wall but, enough to still remind me of my roots."

Nodding, y/n turned her head to everyone else, landing her gaze on Fenrys, while asking no one in particular, "What powers do the rest of you have? I know silver hair over there has some air power that can take the breath out of your body but...what about the rest of you?"

Lorcan scoffed, "Who do you think you are-"

"Shapeshifting. I can shift into any form of living being." Lysandra cut in after giving Lorcan a death stare. Y/n smirked, she liked this female very much.

After everyone, except for well...of course Lorcan and Elide said what their powers were, y/n noticed how Fenrys never once opened his mouth during this entire process, preferring to stare at her from his spot near the window.

So, she asked him, "Fenry-"

But he cut her off, "Lorcan is right. You are in no position to ask us of anything. Better you shut up than ask things that are of no concern to you. My powers are known to those that need to know of it." and with that, he stalked towards the doors and left the room.

Lorcan was smirking until Elide jabbed him with her elbow, Rowan, surprisingly, did not seem happy and Aedion had an unreadable expression. Y/n thought that maybe just maybe Fenrys would not be against her but...it truly seems like she is the number one enemy of all the males here.

Aelin let out a small cough that drew y/n's attention from the door and told her with an uncertain smile, "You...could stay in the palace, I will have a guest bedroom arranged for you if you wish. And while you're here, we could look into this whole matter of gates and help you find a way on how to get you home."

"Oh no I really should start looking for a way to leave, and besides, your males do not seem to want me he-"

"Finally, something we can agr-"

"No." Elide said, cutting of her husband and then looking at y/n, "The males can go and brood for as long as they like but you are a stranger to our world which means out there you won't find anything. Your best chance is here, within the palace walls."

"Bu-"

"I command it as the queen."

"You are not my queen."

"But you are standing on my grounds and that means, whatever I say is law."

Aelin and y/n stared at one another, unflinching, holding each others gaze before y/n finally said, "Alright!"

Aelin smiled, before saying, "Ladies, shall we escort our guest to her bed chambers?"

Lysandra and Elide both stood which caused their husbands to immediately hug them as if they are newborn babies who could not stand being away from their mother. Y/n's heart ached because that was how Azriel was with her once. What was he doing now? Was he worried for her? She doubted it.

Aelin placed her hand on y/n's shoulder to bring her back to reality, as she softly said, "Come"

When the queen and her two ladies led her to her room, y/n's shock was written all over her face but she did not care. She has lived in and seen luxury for quite a large span of her life now, but not even her bedchambers at Velaris or the ones at Dawn court could ever come close to this.

The room was medium sized which added to its comfort. On the right side of the wall, was a large bed with a golden headboard, pale pink or almost white covers and white, see through curtains hanging above. Next to it, was a small, beige nightstand that had a small vase full of daisies, lilacs and a candle that stood on a small golden holder. Opposite to the bed, on the left side of the wall, was a white table with golden designs around the corners that held a large mirror, various beauty products and a singular vase full of white roses. Right next to it, was a white door which Aelin said leads to the washroom and beyond that, the large wardrobe. In front of it was a small, soft, white chair with golden stag figures over it. In the middle of the room, was a small, low, cream colored rectangular table and next to it, were two light gold lounge chairs. Behind the table and the chairs, was one large floor to ceiling window that was covered by, again, white see through curtains and beyond that, it seemed that there was a balcony that overlooked the vast expanse of this territory. The floor was covered in a large, white rug with pale pink and gold designs all over it. The room smelled of roses, vanilla, and other lovely citrusy scents.

"Aelin, I am so glad you listened to me when I said that we needed to have a feminine guest room for our female visitors." Elide said, gazing lovingly into the room.

"One of the best rooms in the West wing." Lysandra said before winking at y/n.

"Get some rest, I shall have food delivered to you and we can begin tomorrow."

Y/n gave a small thankful nod, but before she could say anything else, a messenger with black hair and gray eyes came into the room, bowed to Aelin and said with a small smirk, "Your message was received. King Dorian can't come now which is why Chaol and Yrene are on their way."

Aelin smiled and said, "Thank you Nox, what about Manon?"

"The queen of witches has not replied yet but it seems she has a lot to do in her kingdom. After all, she has to share it. My guess is that she and Dorian will come together."

"Ah those two, I am counting down the days till I hear of their union." Lysandra said while shaking her head.

When Nox saw y/n, he swept his gaze all over her, smirked even bigger than before, before bowing to Aelin and exiting the room.

Aelin, who saw the whole thing, just smiled shaking her head and said, "Nox Owens. He is...we have been friends ever since I was 18 and now he is my main messenger."

Elide took Aelin and Lysandra's hand and led them towards the door but not before saying, "Good night y/n! See you tomorrow."

And as y/n got ready for bed and ate her food, all alone in this foreign place, she wondered what her future held for her and how she would get home.

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A/n: 4.4k words! Wow... but it was so much fun to write and also why not give you guys some more juicy stuff? Anyways, hope you guys enjoyed reading this and see you in the next chapter <3

Taglist: @wallacewillow0773638 @cleverzonkwombatsludge @ladespedidas @mis-lil-red @going-through-shit @kaitttttttt @bunnyredgirl @crazylokonugget @blackgirlmagicforever

[yeojaa]

( GHOST IN MY BED. )

Sometimes, hating someone is the only thing you can do.

pairing.  jjk x named f!reader.  jhs x named f!reader makes a lil (big) appearance. 

genre + rating.   rockstar!au.  e2l (exes n enemies!).  angst.  general.

tags / warnings.  this starts surprisingly soft!  and then it gets...  sad.  no real tags, though.  just...  mentions of butts?  also kicking butts?  jungkook is a bit of a manipulative dingus.  the usual.

beta reader(s).  @hobi-gif​ and @periminkle​!  i would be nothing without them.  💛 

wc.  2.7k

chapter two.

“Are you okay?”  

It’s a question that doesn’t beg an answer.  He already knows you aren’t - that there’s no way you possibly could be - but he asks anyway.  He offers the words like a hand in the dark, a light on the horizon.  A reminder that you’re not alone and he’s here.  

He, with sunbeams in his smile and a dependable heartbeat.  He, who is melted and never frozen, a calm sea to your raging storm.  Jung Hoseok.

He holds you delicately, with utmost care, as if he’s worried you might shatter into the same pieces he’d found you in three years ago.  Or worse.  He cradles you to his chest, tracing stories into your skin;  his fingers press against the brassy ladders of your rib cage, fitting care between the spaces and double checking your heart still beats there.  Every beat reminds him that you’re stronger than he gives you credit for.  He offers his support anyway. 

“I’m…”  The words don’t come.  They’re barely realised, hardly tangible - sailors who’ve died with no names or wives.  

You falter, just a little, where gold thread fails.  There’s only so much someone can take.

It isn’t asked of him - it never is - but he does it anyway:  catching the splinters in his hands.  He pretends like they don’t hurt him just as much and the truth is, they don’t.  He’s faced enough hurt that yours is nothing - simply a stroll through a rose garden, barely a blip on his radar.  So he does this for you, because he can and he really doesn’t mind.

Where he’s able, he fills the cracks with the glory of his smile, with passes of his hands and lips and breath.  He does his best to keep you from catching your hands on those sharp edges - turning them round with a trail of tenderness against your temple.  Then another.  Then one more.  Touches passed in tandem with the tears that spill from your eyes, far too full to stop.  “It’s okay.  Take your time.”

He’s not going anywhere.

You apologise and hope the saltwater doesn’t rust your insides that he’s worked so carefully to scrub clean.  The downpour continues, relentless and miserable.  He waits and for that, you’re grateful.

“I didn’t think it would be that hard.”  Not quite true.  You’d expected it to be worse - an entire blackhole devouring your universe.  It still hurts more than it should.

Hoseok laughs.  It isn’t cruel.  It exists only in sound and even then, hardly at all.

“Did you think it would be easy?”  

“Not easy.”  Different, maybe.  A pain less sharp.  Pressure on a healing bruise rather than a festering wound that’s been poorly, wrongly stitched together.  You didn’t get it - you’d had time to heal.  Why was there still this cut-out in the centre of your heart, shaped exactly like Jungkook and torn around the edges?

“Did you think he’d changed?”

It feels silly to say yes.  It feels sillier to lie.  “Maybe.”

He tries again.  “Did you believe he would’ve changed?”

Had you hoped for it?  Wasted wishes on pennies and stars?  “Yes.”

“Vi.”  So soft you almost miss it, coloured in melancholy and sympathy.  You’ve heard it enough times to recognise what follows.  From Hoseok and your brother and your best friend.  “You need to let him go.”  You know he’s right.  More than that, you know he cares.  He doesn’t want to see the same shell of a girl from years ago - a house without any lights on inside.  

“I’m trying.”  You are, truly.  You’d left, hadn’t you?  Not once but twice!  Two whole times.  

You’d never thought you would.

“I know.”  Hoseok is kind - kinder than you could ever hope to be.  Stronger, too.  You feel it in the way he holds you, keeps you afloat when you’re so close to being pulled under.  “Just know I’m here.”

You can’t count how many times you’ve said it.  You repeat it again, earnest and heartfelt.  “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me.”  It means more than the words, more than it’s fine .  It’s everything in between, unspoken but understood.  It’s his way of reminding you that you - exactly as you are, a little broken and bruised - are everything you need.  That you are exactly as you should be, with the people that love you most.

“What would I do without you?”  You can’t quite picture it.  You don’t want to.

The arms holding you tighten, warm grip holding you tight against his chest.  His lips are dry upon your cheek, his breath ticklish over the shell of your ear.  “You’d be fine,”  he insists, so assured you can’t help but believe him.  “Colder, probably, but you’d be just fine.”

You laugh for the first time since you’ve been in his bed, the sound still a little wet but far better than it was.  More you, with sunshine peeking out from behind the rain clouds.  

“You really think so?”

“I know so.”  

You peer at him from your periphery, reminded once again of how lucky you are.  You might’ve had your heart broken but it was whole again, if not a little worse for wear.  

His was gone - buried six feet under. 

You can’t help yourself.  “Really, Hobi.  Thank you.”

“What’d I say?”  It’s a little huffy - all for dramatic effect, you know.  

“I know but—”

“No buts.”

“But—”

“No buts!”  You catch the look of mischief before you catch something else - a playful palm that lands with a quiet smack.  “Unless it’s yours.”

“You’re ridiculous.”  

“And you’re laughing, so who’s really the winner here?”  

He might think it’s him, but you know it’s you.  Because he’s everything you’ve ever imagined.  Calm, cool, collected.  Shoulders carved from boulders and a heart made of pure gold.  He’s the solid foundation you’d never thought you’d needed but that steadies you now - a reliable foundation for the home you’ve been rebuilding.  A friend who gives everything and asks for nothing.

You wonder if you’ll ever be able to repay him. 

Don’t bother, you know he’d say.  It’s nothing, he’d insist.  You’ll still try.

“Let’s eat.”  You beat him to it, tossing whatever words he’d levied out the window as you extract yourself from the tangle of his limbs and linen sheets.  His expression shifts - swings from pouting at the loss of your body to delighted at the prospect of food in the span of three seconds - and he’s kicking his way to freedom alongside you. 

“Should I make pancakes?  Or are you in a waffle mood?”  

Truthfully, you’re in a drown-your-sorrows-in-wine mood but you figure at ten in the morning, carbs might be the better option.  Especially if they come in the form of his chocolate banana pancakes, third on your list of favourite comfort foods.  “Pancakes.”

“Pancakes it is, then.”  

The shirt he pulls on falls mostly into place before he offers a hand to you, one of his various hoodies - baby blue with Supreme emblazoned across the front - held in the other.  “Put this on and let’s get cookin’, good lookin’.”

Your brother joins the two of you for breakfast, the temptation of free food too strong - even for him.  He shuffles out of his bedroom, a sleepwalking zombie that only perks up at the smell of coffee and sizzling bacon.  He steals a piece before it’s even fully done, jumping out of the way of your wayward chopsticks when he nearly leaves a trail of pork fat over the counter. 

Knives and forks clatter across kitchenware and steam curls out of ceramic.  Caught in this little piece of Sunday morning paradise, it’s easy to imagine this is just another day.

“How’re you doing?”  It comes around a careful mouthful of batter and chocolate chips, Yoongi’s expression soft and expectant across the table.  There’s no hesitation in his question, even as Hoseok shifts in his seat beside you, free hand dropping to rest - inconspicuously - over your knee. 

Yoongi notes the motion with an imperceptible tick of his stare but says nothing.  It’s an unspoken agreement between the three of you. 

If you don’t acknowledge it, it doesn’t exist. 

“I’m…”  The words fall short, yet again, but none of you are in a rush.  The quiet sound of chewing fills the void until you’re able to, in your soft and measured way.  “I’m okay.  I’ll be okay.”  That’s what matters. 

He hums an acknowledgement before digging further into his plate, slicing through a perfectly cooked yolk with the edge of his knife.  “You’re not going to see him again, right?”  You can tell he’s trying to be conversational - ask without demanding, understand without judging.  You know it’s hard for him.  It’d be hard for you too, if the roles were reversed. 

“No.”  

It’s punctuated by a squeeze of your thigh and the tiniest nod from the corner of your eye.  Hoseok knows it isn’t his place to butt in but he offers his support where he can, in the little ways you can’t miss.  Like the sun in the sky, you can’t always see him, but you know he’s there. 

“Good.”  The relief is palpable, fully formed and bright as it pops off Yoongi’s tongue in a pronounced exhale. 

You can’t help but smile, though you’re not entirely sure it meets your eyes.  It’s hard to remain chipper when faced with your nightmares.  If only you could leave them in bed, far away.  “Don’t worry.” 

“You’re my little sister - I have to.”

You catch the grin that forms across Hoseok’s mouth, heart-shaped and hidden behind the rim of his coffee cup.  “She’ll be fine, hyung.”  It takes a lot for him to say it but you appreciate that he does.  Sometimes, it feels like you and Yoongi are fighting over the wrong things;  he recentres you both when that happens.

Feline eyes train on you, indecipherable in their depth.  The bond you share with your brother is unparalleled, despite the oft forgotten fact that you aren’t actual siblings but a chosen family.  You sometimes wonder if you’d be able to read him better if you shared the same coding - if his thoughts might slip into yours one day.  Not that it’s necessary.  He’s always been honest with you.  “I know she will.  She’s strong.”

“Thanks, Yoongs.”

He nods - a short, curt thing that’s diffused by the way his mouth moves, lips curling into the peculiar gummy smile he’s had since he was a kid.�� “Just know if he comes within ten feet of you again, I’ll kick his ass.”  With the laughter that sprouts around his words, it could easily be mistaken for a joke.  A bit of nonsense between friends.

You know better, though.  Yoongi would throttle Jungkook with his bare hands if he ever hurt you again.  He’d told you enough times, drilled it into your mind that first year when he’d had to pick up all the pieces.  You can’t blame him;  they’d hurt him, too, just in different ways.

You’d lost the love of your life.  He’d almost lost his little sister.  It was hard to come back from that.

“I know you will.”  Because while decidedly slimmer - a good, maybe, thirty pounds less than your former love - Yoongi would, with no doubt in your mind, obliterate the boy who’d done the same to your heart.  It was a family thing.

“Does he know that, too?”

You’re sure Jungkook does.  He’d be stupid not to, right?  “Yeah.”

“Good.”

It’s a whole three days later when you realise how wrong you are and how stupid Jeon Jungkook is.

The familiar number flashes a total of four times, glaring up at you like a neon sign that demands your attention.  Even when you blink, they’re seared against the back of your eyelids - a highlight reel of your worst moments encapsulated in a simple ten digits.  

Letting the calls ring through, untouched, is almost impossible.  You can do it, though.  You know you can.

You repeat that over and over again until the vibrating stops and the screen is black.  

That wasn’t so hard, you think.

Then the missed call reminders are replaced by a voicemail notification and all of your pride sinks like a weight to the bottom of your stomach.  Unease bubbles up in its place, fizzles and snaps - a movie theatre fountain pop.  You hate pop.  

Deleting the message without listening to it is what you should do.  Pretending like it never happened is what Yoongi would want you to do.  Neither of those things happen.

You know you’re going to regret it the moment you press play and his voice fills your ears, reaching all the way into your chest as if that’s where it belongs.  You only repeat it for a second time because you’re not sure you’ve heard right.  You can’t believe the words he’s left.

But Jungkook is Jungkook and you really shouldn’t be surprised. 

After all, he certainly isn’t when you swing open the front door.  In fact, he’s almost smug, cheeks pressed into that heartbreaking smile of his.  Even the cuts on his nose and his bruised eye do little to detract from the charm of it.  He could wear a brown paper bag and he’d still, somehow, have your heart racing a mile a minute.

“Hi, Pumpkin.”  

You barely react when he closes the distance and pops a sweet, chaste peck to your forehead.  You don’t know how to react.

It’s like having a bomb dropped on you - a cataclysmic shift that tips your entire world on its side and leaves you scrambling for purchase on a tilted axis.  All at once, everything returns to revolving directly around the boy standing in front of you.  

Just as he had three years ago - how he almost had, only three days ago - Jungkook becomes the centre.

The realisation is sobering, startling you into action. 

“What are you doing here?”  

He blinks once, twice, doe-eyed and adorable.  It’s impossible not to see what he’s doing - see right through the facade he crafts so well, with such practiced hands.  It’s even harder not to fall for it.  

You’d thought you wanted nothing to do with him - not since he’d bumbled his way through his last lie, too guilty to even properly correct the mistake he’d made.  You’d been certain that would be the final straw.  Hoped it would be, with every last tired breath.

“I wanted to see you.”  

He looks so pretty on the outside.  A picture perfect dream come true, plucked straight from your afternoon fantasies.  The boy you’ve wished for forever, wrapped up in hyperactive laughter and black silk.  

But you know he’ll break you from the inside out, turn your heart to ash.  He’ll articulate his love in the form of unnecessary bouquets and drunken voicemails that come too late.  He’ll disappear for weeks at a time then come crawling back, begging for your help as if he hasn’t tripped over his own two feet.  You’ll be too weak to say no, wrapping him in the bandages you should be keeping for yourself. 

You know all of this - and yet you wait, hope, pray , that this time might be different.  

You wonder if he can tell.  If he can still read you in the ways he used to, between the lines and in the dark.  You think he must by how he stares at you, relentless and restless, searching your expression for any sign of forgiveness.

“Pumpkin?”  If words held weight, you’d be crushed beneath it.

“You can’t just… come here.”  Where I have nowhere to run.   

Jungkook shifts his weight, dances from foot to foot.  He’s peering down at his shoes - Italian leather, polished within an inch of their life - mouth rounding in that pout you recognise so well.  “You want me to leave?”  

Don’t answer that.

“I’ll leave.  Just tell me to go.” 

Tell him.  It’s one word.  Hardly a feat.

“Vira, tell me to leave and I’ll go.”

You can’t.  You can’t.  There’s no anger now - nothing to spring you to your feet in a fit of rage.  It’s only sadness, all-encompassing and blue, enough to swallow you whole and spit you out.  It’s so heavy it aches in your bones and all the way through to your toes.  

“Tell me to leave — or let me in.  One or the other.”

author note.  another short chapter but one that lays some important groundwork.  further pain will be forthcoming!  xoxo

tag list.  @jalexa83​ @aa-ronpa​ @kookiesbreaky​ @celestialflamefairy​ @xjoonchildx​ 

[trash-and-recyle-fics]

Desperate For Freedom 4

Summary: In a universe where females are not allowed to remain innocent after their 18th birthday Y/N must hide. But when her cover is blown how will the unforgiving government punish her? None other than gifting her to a God from three worlds away. The god of mischief. He is told to keep and do what he wishes with the lying girl. So that is what he will do. Chained to the inside of an air craft she is brought to him on Asgard. Where her fate will be in a liars hands.

Warnings: My usual grammar, punctuation,  and spelling mistakes, noncon themes, swearing, slight mentions of rape? PLEASE DONT READ IF YOU MAY BE TRIGGERED. 

“Engagement?” The word rattled in your head. Made you feel exposed. Far too exposed. You hadn't stuck to your original plan. You were supposed to get out as soon as you could and now you were marrying a traitorous liar. Then again your parents most likely thought the same of you, as you do Loki. You threw back the silken sheets, the cold air hitting you like a wall. 

“We cant be getting married, I don't want to marry you.” slipping into your robe you passed the far wall. 

“Oh little Y/N, I thought you were stating to understand. It doesn't matter what you want, it only matters what will make me happy.” As Loki went on about the customs of marriage in the father land you slowly started to get dizzy. Black started to close in and as soon as Loki met your eyes he knew something was wrong.

Waking up in the healing rooms was a culture shock and a half. Although you had been here before for your broken hand it still made you uneasy. The hard platform you laid on was cold and very uncomfortable. 

“Lay still.” the voice came from down by your feet, a woman stood with her hands in the air touching and moving energy around. 

You sat up ignoring her words she let her hands fall. 

“You really don't listen to anyone do you?” Her voice sounded irate but her eyes read respect. What did she respect you for you were unsure of. 

“I am my own person I don't need to listen to anyone.” As if on cue Loki walked into the room flanked by Thor and Friga. 

“Anyone hm?” Loki eyes were almost amused, almost. You had learned this little looks and glances, this one was not pleasant.

“You heard correct.” Challenging Loki was dangerous, but challenging him with others present was like paying for your passage to Valhalla. 

“We will see.” Your eye contact never broke, you refused to let him intimidate you. The healer went on about what had made you faint and how to prevent it again. Thor and Friga went on asking questions, mainly if they had to cancel the ceremony. With everyone conversing it was as if Loki and you were alone. 

“I do not wish to marry.”  As soon as the sentence left your mouth you knew the punishment was going to be the worse one yet. Loki had managed to break down most of your flippant attitude, but not all. 

“ Why not, is it because of the timing?” Meeting Frigas eyes your saw her posture was ridged. 

“I wish not to marry because it is not my decision. I wish not to marry because it has nothing to do with love but a way to control my homeland. I wish not to marry because I simply do not want to.” Thor was shocked, Loki angry, and Friga was just as composed as ever. 

“My dear child we all do things we do not want to do. This has nothing to do with control over any other realms or even to control you. It does however have everything to do with keeping you alive. If not marriage then death, the courts and Odin himself had made this decision to keep you alive. So there will be a marriage ceremony and there will eventually be love.” 

“Death?” Your blood ran colder that the ice realms.

“I assume my son had some things to explain to you, the ceremony will take place tomorrow.” With that Friga Thor and the healer had left the room. Loki hid nothing, his anger could be felt from across the room.

‘Loki I-” In a blink of an eye you were back in his chambers. 

“Why hadn't you told me about this before today?” Loki wasn't one to show emotions, although this he couldn’t hide.

“Hush pet.” He stood still looking at you straight on. He began to pace in front of the grand fireplace.

“No. No you don't get to tell me what to do anymore, if death is my only other option I choose death.” As soon as the words passed your lips you saw the anger come to the surface.

“Choosing death instead of a happy life. Tell me pet do you really wish for such an idiotic thing?”

“If it means I can finally be free then yes. If it means I will stop having to be forced to open my legs, then yes I choose death.”

“Forced? Oh my beautiful Y/N, tell me that when I part your legs you do not feel a rush. Or when I pin your arms up do you truly not feel relived that my mouth will be on your core?” Gods. Even his words make you slightly uncomfortable. 

“I don’t- I feel-.” 

“Do not lie, tell me how when I have my way with you feel nothing.” Loki was now in front of you hands holing your face. Forcing eye contact as he spoke such indecencies. 

“I- I can’t” The grin that over took his face was pure sin. Pure Loki.

“Oh I know.” His hand skated down your body and met your core. Your breath started to get heavier, his hands slowly raising your dress. 

“Tell me love do you truly not want to marry?” His hands rested on you hips under your dress. 

“I-I want to make a decision by myself for once. I fled my home and parents for a single night of freedom. Then I was named a traitor and sent to a completely different realm. I was forced to become property and told only minutes ago that I was to be married off or sentenced to death. I simply want to choose Loki. Is that so hard to understand?” The lust hadn't faded from his eyes but the anger had. Slowly you could see realization cross his features.

“My love I wasn't aware that a something as mundane as a choice had made you feel this way.” 

“That's just it Loki, you aren't aware because you have always been able to choose. I am not even allowed to choose death.” 

“I promise you after the ceremony tomorrow you can make as many choices as you like. However the marriage is not a choice you get to make. I will not let you be sentenced to an unjust death.” His hands slipped out from under your dress. Every move of his was calculated. He brought them up to cradle your face. 

“My love if you do not wish to rest in the same bed as me then I will see to it that you get your own accommodations.” His facial expression was clear and no sign of a lie, not that you would be able to tell anyways.

“I don’t think that will be necessary, I am accustomed to sleeping with another person, it would be to hard to revert back to no one at all.” It all hit you then, you were getting married tomorrow, to a soon to be king. A god of lies and one of the most powerful beings. You never could have fled even if you had help. His hands still held  your face as he brought his lips to your forehead. 

“I was going to escape Loki.” You felt his lips leave your forehead. “I was going to pretend to fall for you and then once I had your trust I was going to flee.” As tears formed in your eyes he still said nothing. In a rush you continued, this time looking at his beautiful green eyes. “I wanted nothing to do with you or this realm, I was going to hang myself from the neck if it meant freedom, Loki I’m so sorry.” As your tears flowed freely he finally spoke.

“I know my love, I can read expressions and if you are vulnerable enough your thoughts. I also know that now you feel differently. Isn’t that true?” He held you in place, forcing you to come to terms with thing you felt. 

“Yes, Loki I love you.” Your heart beat was higher than the stars. 

“Let’s make our way to bed then, we have an eventful day coming up.

TIME SKIP 

“Y/N it is time to wake up you have to get ready.” Loki’s voice was soothing and sweet. In response you just moved closer to him. The warmth on his skin was soothing but the cold right under the surface felt like home. 

“Don't want to get out of bed.” The words left you in a grumbled tone. Hardly audible. In a swift motion you were uncovered and sitting at the small table. It contents were all breakfast food.

“Be good Y/N. I will see you in the great hall in five hours.” In less than 30 seconds he had left.  In a blur you were hurried around. Breakfast then a bath, your skin was rubbed raw then waxed. With one servant at your head pulling, brushing and braiding, another was going back and forth between your hands and feet. Making sure the nails were perfection and the skin soft. 

“Princess? Are you ok?” The servant at your hands stopped and smiled. Genuine concern on her features. 

“I’m scared.” Openly admitting it made the room go still. 

“It’s ok to be scared Princess, but you are marrying a good asgaurdian.”

“I’m being forced to marry the God Of Mischief.”

“Even so. If I may be so daring to say that he has been kinder and more understanding with you here.” The gentle smile she wore was comforting. 

“Are you married?” The gentle look morphed into sadness.

“No, only the staff that isn’t seen can marry, oh and I suppose the guards can take a wife too.”

“Why can’t you. Shouldn’t you be able to marry whom you please?”

“If we could marry we would.” The sadness left her face and replaced with bittersweet happiness. 

“It’s time for the dress.” They both took a hand and lead you to a large mirror in the sitting area. They slipped the dress on over your head and helped button the back. The black dress with emerald green and gold details fit you to a T.  

“This is beautiful.” 

“I should hope so Your Majesty had picked it out himself.” Until this moment you hadn't thought of your distant family. The marriage will be broadcasted, and shared throughout the realms. How will they feel about you taking the younger prince of the father realm. Your mother was supposed to arrange a marriage and your father was to pay for it. This way you at least got to meet your soon to be husband. Yes, you were forced to meet and have relations with him, but you had come to love him. Did you really love him? Or was it just an illusion he wanted you to see. 

“M’ Lady? Are you alright?” Your palms had gotten moist and your breath uneasy. ”My Princess?” The hand maidens were gone the only thing in your vision was the detailed ceiling. Of course it was just as beautifully crafted as everything else. You did not belong here. This palace was not for you. This hand sewn wedding gown should not fit you. You should be back home making a meal for your mate. Sure you would despise it, but at least you would know your role. Unlike your current situation.

“Y/N?” The smoothness of his voice was a balm on your racing and uncontrollable thoughts. You open your eyes to see his concerned ones. 

“I’m not fit to stand in the back Loki. I can’t pretend that I want to hold my tongue. If we marry I need to pave a path that I find fit.” Saying this you could already feel the pressure easing off of your chest. 

“I expect nothing less my love.” He helps you stand. 

“We need to move forward with today, we will speak as soon as we are alone.” The small amount of reassurance he gave you was enough for today. As the maids finished getting you prepped, you begin making plans. How to fix a broken realm and how to move forward as a wife. 

TIME SKIP

The vows had been said and the kiss had been just as bruising and binding as you knew it would be. Now in the streets celebrating with the townsfolk even though Odin had thought it to be demeaning to the royal status, Loki and you danced toasted and laughed throughout the night. As Loki spun you once again you heard a whisper in your head. Just as easy and natural as your own conscious. 

“I would like to bed you here in front of every soul. However I think you might appreciate what I’m about to do you in private.” You watched Loki as he held you close making sure you really did hear that. His proud smile claimed the action. 

“Lets go.” That's all you had to say for him to wrap you tighter in his arms and make green and gold sparkles around you two. When his grip loosened you were in his chambers. The same room you had shared. 

“Behave for me tonight like a good pet.” His voice vibrated through your bones. 

“What’s the fun in that?” The slight attitude in your tone made the heaviness in the room grow thicker. 

“Very well have it your way.” With a flick of his wrist you were undressed and on your knees. The slick between your legs was now noticeable. 

“What’s wrong master? You cant control me without magic?” Saying this caused the exact reaction you had wanted. Hauling you to your feet with a handful of hair he spoke with intention and a careful tone. 

“My dearest pet you will beg for my gift.” He picked you up and threw you on the mattress quickly turning you over, he lifted your hips and pulled you to the end of the bed. He yanked your head up clasping on a collar that had obvious weight. Not enough to be uncomfortable but definitely noticeable. Next was thick leather handcuffs to keep your hands behind your back. With your face in the bedding and ass in the air Loki spoke.

“Now look how good you are with just a bit of restraints.” You opened you mouth to speak but before you could get any words out once again he flipped you around and had you kneeling on the bed eye level with him.

“Be a good pet and listen to instructions.” Doing as he says his smile only increases. As does the wetness in your sweet spot. Reaching down he barely touches you. Trying to create the friction you so desperately need your hips try and grind down on his digits. 

“Use your words pet.” A loan moan exits your body,

“Please master I need it.” He gave a chuckle in return.

“You don't need anything yet pet.” Loki holds your face in his hands spitting on your face. Another moan.

“Such a mouth on you.” Pulling you head down till it was right in front of his ‘gift’. Opening your mouth for him to enter, with no hesitation he begins to fuck your face. The obscenity's leaving his mouth encouraged you take more of him at once. Humming along with his strokes to increase his pleasure. Having him use you was now the very thing that got you off, unlike in the beginning when you fought it all.

“Good pet.” Soon enough you felt his release. Swallowing down as much as you could. With his demanding actions, and filth filled  words your wetness left a mark on the bed.

“Please sir.” Looking up at him with spit and cum leaking down your chin.

“Is this you begging? You will need to be more convincing my dear.” He let you sit up on your knees on the bed so once again you were eye level. 

“Please sir I need you in me. I will behave for you. I need you Loki.” Saying his name had an effect on him like nothing before. The restraints gone within a millisecond, he had you on your back already hard. Entering you fast and not stopping. Soon enough you had your release with him following right after.

TIME SKIP

“SIR LOKI IT’S THE ALLFATHER! COME QUICKLY!” A guard had woken you both. Odin? In trouble? As Loki rushed out of the room the guard entered. You assumed to wait for you to follow. Pulling up the silk sheets you opened your mouth but no words escaped. 

“I see you had a good nights rest. Or should I say lack thereof.” His grin stretched across his face. The guard looked familiar. It couldn’t have been the same guard, that had laid with you while Loki was away. Could it? Pulling the sheets tighter around your naked skin, the guard advanced towards you.

                                                    End of Part 4

I am not sure why some of the tags didn’t work if you know these people please tag them. Please repost, comment or send in asks with things you would like to see in this series or future ones. I have final say in all requests. Don’t be shy.. repost.

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[bubblyani]

Deeper Relations: 04

(Freddie Jackson x Reader)

A Freddie Jackson Multi Chapter Series

Chapter 04: The Comfort

Summary: Being the youngest sister of Jackie and Maggie, you were quite young when Freddie Jackson went to prison. Upon his return, you cannot help but recall your innocent love you had for him back then. And surprised by your transformation into womanhood, Freddie cannot help but form a desire towards you. Will a dangerously seductive attraction grow between the two of you? What will be the consequences?

Requested by: @97freaknik​. Thank you for your detailed request 😘

Author’s Note: I’m taking my sweet time with the progression and it’s so worth it. Enjoy!

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

For a split second, you strongly wished you had never grown up. For a split second you envied Peter Pan’s concept. For you wondered if this was your punishment for growing up.

“So…what do have to say about that?”

With a menacingly desperate look flashing in his eyes, Freddie inquired.

On average, there would never be a problem for you to respond to any question posed to you. The quality of the answer may not be the best. But yet, you would answer. You would save your dignity. But at this very moment, you were simply speechless. Could it be that this was the most challenging question you’ve ever encountered in your life?

“Freddie…I…” You began, on a desperate attempt. Until you finally decided to let your heart speak up instead of your mind. “This is not funny…” you hissed with emotion. Freddie laughed. If a passerby had seen, they would mistake that laughter for something innocent. But you knew, he was merely masking his frustration.

“Funny?” He began, “Do you think I’m fucking JOKING?” He said, shaking you by the shoulders hard with aggression. The violent shaking, and the strong stench of alcohol, it made you dizzy. But more importantly, you were afraid. You were very afraid. For it was the first time you saw that side to him.

Could it be that your thoughts were somehow transferred to him through the medium of your expressive eyes, for within a few seconds, you saw the aggression slowly drain away from him, along with the shaking. With his hands still on you, he calmed himself down.

As if he was surprised by his own response.

“Oi! Freddie!”

Jimmy cried out from a few feet away, standing by the car. His voice was certainly a god-send at this very moment, and you had never been this thankful to see him there. So grateful, you finally felt a rush of blood to your brain. As he walked towards the both of you, Freddie quickly pulled away.

“Oh Jimmy! Thank God…”

You breathed, as he finally made it.Letting you go, Freddie suddenly lost his balance. But luckily, Jimmy caught him on time.

“I think… Freddie’s had wee bit too much…”

You said, feigning a chuckle as you attempted to sound normal, offering a valid excuse for him to corner you, “Could you please-” you gestured as you showed him your bag of books.

“Yeah! of course…Go on!” Jimmy replied.

Nodding away your gratefulness, you rushed out of there with incredible speed. You couldn’t run, not with the heavy bag of books on you. But you walked. You speed walked. And your breathing was at a whole other level. It was faster than it should be.

Walking away, your thoughts were busier than ever before. You tried your hardest to make sense of what on earth just happened to you.

Ever since Freddie Jackson got out of prison, it seemed that your life was not the same anymore. As if it was going through a dramatic change every time you met him. Sure, you do admit of your youthful obsession and love for him in your much younger days. Your innocent self longed for him to be yours. Truthfully, you really did love him with all your heart. But the difference was, in every moment you hoped for that, you had other hopes as well. You hoped you’d be older, you hoped he wasn’t married, you hoped for fate to be completely different. Your intentions were never immoral.

Thus, why should you accept his feelings now? Why should you be so insane? He should know better, you thought. As much as you were an adult, and clearly very in touch with your sexual desires, you felt horrid chills, just to hear him speak of his sexual desire for you. So raw, so explicit. You felt strange, you actually felt sick. You could not even appreciate whatever the good you could extract from this- NO! There was nothing good at all. It was wrong, all wrong, You told yourself. For goodness sakes, he was your sister’s husband, the father to your nieces.

How could he? How dare he?

You suddenly felt colder. Wrapping your jacket tightly, you kept walking. If only walking could help you get away from your problems so easily.

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

A Mess, that was what you were. And you clearly knew it. You knew it the moment your concerned thoughts tampered with your sense of direction, forcing you to walk kilometers away from University, thus getting late to your favorite lecture. With your dramatic entrance into the lecture hall, you caused an interruption, and life clearly punished you for it with a horrible corner seat. You knew you were a mess when the usual theories the Professor lectured on seemed completely off and confusing, and the words in your textbook were simply untranslatable, causing you more trouble when you, one of the best students,  were suddenly posed with a question from the professor. Tongue-tied and evidently clueless of your surroundings, you appeared to look completely dumb in front of many, leaving your professor quite disappointed. But no one was more disappointed about all this than you. It was the worst.

You were a mess. It was certain. 

As the bell rang with intensity, you remained seated while the others swarmed off. Staring at the blackboard like a zombie, you were completely unaware of the many attempts your professor made to call you over with concern, and then finally gave up to walk away. You were oblivious to all. Taking your time, you reached out for your books, sweeping them into your bag without a care in the world while sliding off the chair.

Until your friend, Marcus stopped by.

“Y/N….” He said, “What was that?” He asked with genuine concern. Tired of hearing that, you merely answered him with a heavy sigh, for you did not know either. Truthfully the question made you feel worse. Aware of the situation, Marcus pressed his lips with guilt.

“I’m sorry…I’m just-” He began, leaning closer “Are you alright?” He asked softly.

“Yeah…” you answered quickly, looking down “I’m fine…I…”

Except you were not. You were just sick of lying. At that moment, you just did not have the energy to put up with a show. No pretense. Sighing even heavier, you slowly felt the tears welling up in your eyes. Shaking your head, you sniffed softly.

“….I’m not…Marcus”

You admitted, as the tears finally trickled down, “ I’m not…” you added, quite relieved when your friend pulled you into a comforting embrace without hesitation.

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

“Alright…here you go…”

Marcus returned to the table, surprising you with two cups of steaming hot coffee. In an attempt to cheer you up, he brought you to the cafe nearby the university.

Taking a deep breath, you indulged on the aroma that tickled you in the nostrils.


“Marcus, you didn’t have to do this…” you said, looking at him, to which he shook his head.

“It is my money, so I get to decide what I do with it…” , he said decisively, as he sat across from you. His playful reply made you smile a little. Among him and Heath, Marcus was indeed the saner one. He was the kinder one. And he would always be the first to care for his friends.

“Thanks…”  you said, before taking a sip of the hot beverage. Marcus gazed at you with much thoughtfulness.

“What’s going on, Y/N?” He asked softly. Pressure came over you. Truthfully, you did not wish to bring up the horrid memory once more. But then again, you realized that you literally had no one else to share this with. Besides, you would be the one to encourage the venting in others. So why can’t you? And Marcus being the only trustworthy person in university was convincing enough. Taking deep breath, you began:

“It’s my family” you continued, holding on to the cup, “We have a… complicated set of people…and, currently it looks like we are dealing with some drama. Some very unexpected drama” you went on, attempting a chuckle, “I don’t want to get into the details…I hope you understand” you said, sipping more coffee before it turned cold. Marcus nodded frantically.

“No it’s fine…” he said, “I’m sorry about that…” his tone laced with tenderness. Silence took over for a few minutes while you both continued to drink.

“But was it so bad, though?”

Marcus could not help ask further, bringing the chair close he sat right next to you. And frankly, you did not mind.

“It’s just…” you paused, as you found the right words,  “I think it had gotten worse because of…me. I’m worried whether I did something to cause it….”

“Well…” rubbing his chin, Marcus continued,  “…try to ask yourself this: Did you ever do something within your conscience to hurt anyone?”

“No…” you answered so quickly, for it was the truth.

“Well…If you know it’s not your fault, then there’s no need to feel guilty about anything, right?” He asked, with a smile on his face. That smile, it calmed you, it reassured you.

“Yeah…yeah you’re right” you said, “Why should I?” You added with realization. “See?”

You both chuckled by the happy outcome. Exhaling deeply, you felt liberated. And less guilty. This was never your fault. You were never an enabler. You just need to let the strength take you through this difficult time. Motivation coarse through you.

“I do feel a lot better talking to you…” you said, “Sorry for the vent though…” to which Marcus dismissed it with squinted eyes.

“What for?” He asked, “ You always put up with me and Heath…” he said, to which you nodded in agreement, “Besides, it doesn’t feel right when you’re not smiling…” his voice grew softer with those words, “I miss that smile…”

As sweet as it was, you stifled a grin, raising your eyebrows, “Your flirting game needs a little brushing up there, mate”

“I wasn’t flirt-hah!” He cried when you shoved him slightly, causing the both of you to burst out laughing. With the laughter slowly dying down, you looked at the cup.

“Thank you…really!” You said shyly, eyes still glued to the cup, “I don’t know what I’ve would have done without you…”

“Well..it was my pleasure…”

Nervous, you felt nervous in the best way. Finally looking up, you found his eyes staring at yours. With rich brunette locks framing a freckled face that was fashioned with blue eyes, sharp nose and thin lips, Marcus was what you could call handsome in an English way. And being in such close proximity, you managed to see him in a whole different light. You felt safe, but he also made you feel something else entirely.

Leaning forward, he bravely took a chance placing his lips on your cheek. As touched as you were, you remain unmoved, for you welcomed it. In fact, you wanted much more. Resulting you to quickly press your lips against his own soon after he pulled back. Taking it in as a sign, you felt Marcus kiss you back in kind, cupping your face with his gentle hands.

——————————————————

Chapter 5 HERE

Tagged: @starlightmornings​​ @rogerfxckingtaylor​​​ @daydreamerinadazedworld​​​ @courtney-thevixeniris​​​

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Bound by Circumstance ― Chapter 18: Let Me Do You This Kindness

PAIRING: Nik Ryder x trans*M!MC (Taylor Hunter) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Circumstance ⥽

Taylor Hunter (MC) has made it good for himself in New Orleans; turns out moving to a new city fresh out of college to reinvent yourself isn’t as hard as people make it out to be. Things only start to get confusing when he finds himself the target of a malevolent wraith. Good thing someone’s looking out for him though — because without Nighthunter Nik Ryder as his bodyguard he definitely won’t survive long in the twisting darkness of the supernatural underworld he’s tripped into.

Bound by Circumstance and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the book Nightbound and the rest of the Bloodbound series. Find out more [HERE].

Note: Circumstance only loosely follows the events and plotline of Nightbound, and features a separate antagonist, different character motivations, and further worldbuilding.

*Let me know if you would like to be added to the Circumstance/series tag list!

⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽

The Fate intervenes.

[READ IT ON AO3]

“You were there — you were watching us at Prytania Street.”

“In a way, yes and no.”

“It can’t be both. I saw you there.”

“Yes, I was witness to the events of which you speak. But no, I was not there as you were there; on the physical plane. I bear witness to all things. That is my purpose and my burden.”

“You could have done something.”

“You are mistaken, halfling child.”

“Bullshit. That’s—That’s bullshit. Its an excuse to justify doing nothing!”

“If that is what you choose to believe I cannot stop you, only try to sway your mind.”

“Well you won’t.”

“The world’s belief that I am capable of more than giving testimony is a false one. I cannot change the course of what is to be, no more than you can. I see every outcome, every possibility — every path from the moment it is built reaching out into oblivion.

“Who walks those paths — who has the ability to forge them new or break the chain — that is up to the individual. Certain roads will always be taken, yes. But the forces making those decisions were here long before me and will exist long after I am gone.”

He’s angry. And because he’s angry he’s indignant — he doesn’t want to believe them. Not when they speak in the voice of a forgotten child or a lost lover or someone whose time has come yet they find themselves filled with only bitter regret.

Always with the same golden eyes.

The weight of his breath sends Taylor’s body into tremors of emotion. Things he knows all too well — despair, guilt, self-blame — and things he has no name for; might never have a name for in any human language.

They overwhelm him until they don’t. Until he can look at each and every face of The Fate and speak.

“I don’t remember. Why don’t I remember?”

It’s his voice, his tongue curling around the words formed on his lips. But they aren’t his. They’re just sort of pulled out of him like they were trapped deep in his belly on a string.

Words that come not from the mind but from some place deeper. Those dying embers he thinks may have once been called his soul.

The Fate turns their wrinkled face away.

He knows this emotion. Shame.

“Why don’t I remember?” he asks again.

Doesn’t know where he is, or how he got here, or what it all means. But like hell he’s going to move or be moved without an answer.

“I thought it would be kinder.”

Their new voice wavers. A new face looks back at Taylor — creases in a frown that will settle into lines of age eventually, but not quite yet; thinner lips, yet hands still youthful. They look so much like his mother it hurts.

Thought what would be kinder? What happened? Where is everyone? Where is Nik?

All very important questions. All answers he first wants, then craves, then needs in order to remember how to breathe.

Instead he just whispers a weary “please,” because they both know what it is he’s pleading for.

But The Fate is reluctant — that much is obvious. “I would rather you understand before I did.”

“Understand…?”

“That I am merely the storyteller. Not the book, not the author, just a voice reading from the pages.”

This again. Can they blame him for being skeptical? For thinking someone with a name like The Fate might have a say in the order of the universe, in who lives and who dies?

“If I tell you I believe you, will you give me back my memories?” Will you explain? Will it all make sense?

“Would you be lying to me, Taylor Hunter?”

“You’re The Fate — wouldn’t you know?” Then, met with only silence, he does the only thing that feels right. He just shrugs. “I don’t know. I don’t — I don’t, okay? I’ve been asked to believe in a lot of impossible things lately, but this… this is more than that, and that makes it harder.”

Because if The Fate really has no say in the way things have been then that means they have no say in the way things end.

The Coven Elders do.

His friends do.

He does.

But not someone who could make it all better.

And that’s terrifying.

“So I don’t know,” he repeats, “and that’s my final answer.” Not the right or wrong answer, but the final one.

He’s met with a chilling reality when The Fate reaches out their hand and he takes it and feels home. The Fate doesn’t just look like his mother; they are wearing her face.

It’s a useless epiphany though.

Because he remembers.

What’s an extra hour or two?

The difference between life and death.

By the time he notices the familiar figure of The Fate standing just off stage left it’s too late.

The screams, the crackle and POP of a spotlight sending sparks showering down onto the stage, the heat and flames and smoke choking the breath out of him — those all came later.

First came the explosive bang of double doors opening at the back of the theatre. If there was ever an apt time for an actor to fumble their lines it was then.

He still hated Antoni, the prick, but gave credit where credit was due — a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it beat in between stanzas and Oberon was right back in the depths of his monologue.

Second was the gust of wind that turned heads — Taylor’s included — to the draft coming through the gaping doorway. It reeked of revelry and jaegerbombs with just a hint of despair.

Taylor was convinced that last bit was his imagination having a last-ditch effort to try and ruin his happiness. Stupid, stupid boy he was; turning back to the stage like that.

Third came thunk. thunk. thunk.

He could recall, if only vaguely, the rehearsal where Daphne suggested imitating the Globe Theatre in London. She wanted to engage with the audience as Puck and the director loved it.

Her last big entrance was from the back of the theatre, right — he’d forgotten.

Thunk. thunk. thunk.

Daphne came barreling down the sloping path — collided with the stage with wet noise.

Or… her head did.

And it rolled in classic horror-movie gothic to stare lifelessly at the audience. Eyes milky white, veins blackened and bulging under tissue paper skin.

What came next doesn’t matter. If the curtain caught fire before or after Theseus fainted from terror didn’t matter.

The only thing that mattered was the wretchedly familiar grotesque hovering in the entryway — the shadow it cast stretching long, mangled limbs out towards them.

The bloodwraith let out a screeching howl that shattered glass, incited fire, sent the entire space into a pitch darkness only to glow and flicker with hungry flames.

I’m sorry. His first and only thought.

Nothing else The Fate gave back to him mattered.

“Holy shit — am I dead?!”

Taylor uses the thought to grapple back onto the present and pull himself together. Doesn’t even think about whether or not he should be using that kind of language in front of a very very old supernatural being but okay maybe he’d been a little premature in the ‘nothing else’ department.

If he was dead that definitely mattered. Because if he was dead Nik was going to kill him.

When The Fate readjusts themselves — a refined and more calm way of saying ‘recovers from whiplash’ — they reassure him with a small shake of the head, silvery wisps on a balding head shaking out to perfect and natural curls. “No, you are not dead.”

“Oh thank god,” he whistles low, but its the relief that catches him by surprise. And not just because he doesn’t have to worry about being chewed out by a surly Nighthunter.

He’s actually relieved to be alive. Or at least not dead. One of those things he wouldn’t normally perturb the semantics over but given everything that’s happened it only seems right.

“Am I alive?”

“In a way.”

“That’s a yes or no question. Please let that be a yes or no question.”

It takes Taylor a moment (his brain is catching up as quick as it can, yeesh) but when it becomes clear The Fate, powerful ethereal being witness to everything until the end of time, is amusing themselves with his reactions he tries his best not to give any.

He fails, of course, but he tried his best.

“Yes, halfling child, you are alive.”

“And —” Nik? Elric? Vera? Cal-Kathy-Cadence? Garrus-Krom-Ivy? “— everyone else?”

“Is there one for whom your concern is greatest?” It sounds almost clinical; doesn’t help that they now sound eerily similar to his hormone therapy physician.

Maybe they hoped Taylor would have to think about it. Maybe they wanted to see what makes him tick.

Too bad. “I’m not picking which of my friends I care about the most, if that’s what weird all-knowing trope you’re going for.”

“Not even your father is placed above them?”

“I barely know the guy. That answer it for you?”

The Fate gives a “hmm” and a nod. “Forgive me, I have never had such luxuries.”

“Family, friends?”

“Those as well. I see the bonds of the material made; thousands, millions in the spaces between heartbeats. But I do not feel them. I wish that I could.”

It rings wrong in his bones. Makes his blood curdle in his veins. “If you’re trying to justify preying on my fears to learn emotions, I’d say stop.”

“Is there a threat to be made?”

“No.” He’s not stupid — but he’s not just going to stand there and take it, either. “You didn’t answer my question. Are my friends — all of them — alive too?”

He can tell The Fate hesitates as one last test of wills. Still it doesn’t stop him from clapping a hand over his mouth when they finally nod.

“Thank god…”

They’d thought it would be safe. That they had time—however brief—to try and make the most of things; time together, the city in all her glory.

Taylor doesn’t realize they’ve been walking together, a simple man and Fate, until he stops and looks out of one of the large windows lining the hallway.

Outside is beautiful. It’s a lacking word but the only one that comes to mind. It’s the kind of sunset that people write entire poems and songs about because they can’t think of a simple one-word description either. So it’ll do.

He drinks it in — the vibrant sunset that reaches long tendril fingers of pinks and oranges across the sky and continues on and on and on into an endless horizon. Bright enough to illuminate dust motes hovering practically immobile in the still air around him. Even his heavy and awestruck breathing doesn’t disturb them.

Like he isn’t even there.

And it occurs to him like an afterthought that if he left this place to commune with that sherbet sky he’d never find the end. There’s a peace in that.

He could ask the obvious; where are we, how did we get here, what does it all mean, but instead he focuses on the things he does know rather than what he doesn’t. “You brought us here.”

“Yes.”

And he hadn’t planned it at all; the trap The Fate has so willingly fallen into. But there it is.

“That means you intervened.” He turns away from the world beyond only because he has to. Catches their ever-changing face in the sunset’s light. “I thought you couldn’t intervene.”

When they finally answer the words are chosen with care; careful not to reveal too much, careful not to make promises unable to be kept. “I did not change the course of what is to come; that is beyond me. But it is not beyond you, and so the lines blur. If you could be guided, or given more time, or protected from a death thought previously inevitable, then perhaps you could enact that change with your newfound advantages.”

His mouth twists ruefully. “You’re telling me you found a loophole in destiny?”

“Of a sort.”

“And you choose now to do it? That’s…” For once in his life Taylor thinks before he speaks; to his benefit. “Unless this isn’t the first time you’ve done it.”

The Fate looks at him with the eyes of a child again; a disturbingly profound wisdom looking him over as if in a new light. “There are very few places in the puzzle of time where I may fit.”

“So all that stuff you said about being an observer — what you’re saying is that’s a load of crap.”

“Would I have told you then what little I could do, would you have believed my interference so small?”

They’ve got a point. “No.”

“Then you see why these revelations take time.”

Maybe he does. That doesn’t change the truth, though. Doesn’t change the thoughts racing through his mind; thoughts of the dozens, hundreds of things that have happened that could have been changed in some little way. Changed had they had more time, or if they’d known more.

Or if he hadn’t been protected.

If Nik hadn’t been in the graveyard, Taylor would be dead. He was there, and at the bar, because…

“You hired Nik to protect me. You were the one on the other end of the phone line.”

“Yes.”

“Did it make a difference? No—No it couldn’t have. You said you couldn’t change it. You —”

“All that is meant to unfold still will. If not as swiftly as the witches had hoped.”

“So all you did was prolong the inevitable.”

“All I did?” his question played back to him in a voice rusted with time, incredulity on The Fate’s new leathery features, “You think so narrowly. What have you changed, what have you incited?”

“The Elders are still —”

“What. have. you. done.”

“I —” Is it any wonder he falters under the intensity of that stare; the weight of their words bearing down on him heavier than anything he’s tried to carry before?

Fine. What has he done?

He’s hurt Garrus by bringing Elric to the show. 

He’s brought Garrus and Krom closer.

He’s put Vera in danger. 

But given her a chance to reconcile with her mother.

He’s the reason Cal was cast out from his pack. 

And the reason Donny is still alive.

Stop it, Taylor wants to say, because there’s no way that annoying voice in his head contradicting everything he’s thinking is him. It’s them — they’re in his mind.

But he’s heard dozens of voices from dozens of their lips; none of them have sounded like him.

And only his voice is ringing between his ears.

“If I’d died in the cemetery that night — would any of those things have happened? Be honest.”

“I see all outcomes; the realms in which they did happen and those where they did not.”

“Okay, so —”

“But because of you, Taylor Hunter, they did. And that cannot be undone.”

Taylor reels at the very thought of it. Talk about daring to disturb the universe. But all those things — they’re speaking of the past, of the present.

What about the future?

“Was it enough, though?” Was it enough to make a difference? Enough to save them? Enough to win?

Instead of answering with words The Fate reaches up, out. Doesn’t let up even though Taylor recoils (for good reason) at the weight of permanence that hangs around them in an unseen aura. According to The Fate themselves there are versions of this story where he dies; is already dead.

And knowing that doesn’t scare him nearly as much as being touched by someone who has seen it happen.

“Those who seek to change destiny always fail,” — something so morbid and hopeless shouldn’t sound so reassuring — “because it will always lie out of their reach. They never understand how to bring it closer. Now you do.”

The warmth of the sunset beyond prickles the back of Taylor’s neck. But even basking in the glow as they have been The Fate’s fingers are cold as ice.

Cold with the weight of the sorrows they’ve seen.

Wherever they are stretches out infinitely on either side of them. He hasn’t seen another soul this entire time. Knows somewhere deep inside himself that no matter how many halls he sees, no matter how many doors he opens, they reside here together. Alone.

So why then does he whisper? Who the hell knows.

“If you’ve seen all the terrible ways this could end… why do it? Why try?”

“Because,” they smile and suddenly Taylor sees why every other part of them is cold; to compensate, “I have hope.”

How, how can they have hope when they know what’s coming? “Hope for what?”

“Hope that you will prove me wrong.” You can change what is to come.

“Talk about your unrealistic expectations.” How?

“It has been done before — however rare.” You already know how.

But he doesn’t.

He doesn’t.

He —

He watches Cal with his arm over Vera’s shoulder — holding her close, pressing his mouth into her hair more a gesture of comfort than a kiss. To remind her the warmth of another body is close. That she isn’t alone.

A bright light flashes in front of his eyes, blinds him. Taylor tries to pull back but the EMT squeezes his shoulder and keeps him in place. “Not yet, bud, just try and follow the light okay?”

It doesn’t really make sense to keep staring at the thing that makes it harder to see but he does what he’s told. Follows the pen light left to right and up to down because that’s what they need of him right now.

“Your friends said you took a pretty hard hit.” He can feel the gloved hand on the back of his head feeling around for a lump, a cut, blood — anything.

Definitely more than the nothing he gets that’s for sure.

“Do you remember anything like that?”

No, he doesn’t. He only remembers silvery curls and an insistent understanding that he’s capable of more than he thinks. But those thoughts aren’t his.

It’s with reluctance that the EMT lets him jump from the back of the ambulance with the closest thing to a clear bill of health.

“Rook!”

Thank god he hears Nik only when there isn’t a stethoscope on his chest because surely his heart stops beating.

Taylor turns, doesn’t have the time to brace himself before he’s inhaling leather. Isn’t smothered by it at all — in fact it helps calm him more than expected.

Then Nik’s looking him over — touching the back of his head and holding up his arms; looking for cuts and bruises and any sign that he’s less than one hundred-percent okay. “Did you get checked out? Why the hell would they let you go? If they’d seen the way your head bounced off that concrete wall they’d be thinkin’ differently. Fuckin’ hell, they…” Just like the EMT he feels nothing, though. But this time Taylor isn’t let off the hook so easily.

“What the hell? There ain’t even a bump.”

“I hit my head?” he asks; realizes it’s the wrong thing to say when Nik’s eyes widen.

“You don’t remember? Shit — we’re gettin’ you to the hospital.”

“I don’t need a hospital.”

“I beg to differ!”

“If you’d —” Taylor actually has to smack the flurry of Nik’s concerned hands away, “— just stop for a sec’? Please!”

Even in the chaos of grief and seemingly fruitless attempts to restore order Taylor is loud. Manages to get more than a few heads turned his way — some that look between him and Nik in rising suspicion. He takes the man’s hand and pulls him off to the side before any of it becomes a thing.

They find the one police car without the overhead lights flashing. Away from the crowd swarming, from people who secretly wished they could be paid to learn what happened and grieve for it. Despite being entirely removed from the situation they are moths; the cruisers that bathe them in reds and blues are their flame.

Nik wastes no time. “You’re starting to scare me Taylor,” and he believes it with or without Nik using his name, “if somethin’ happened to you, somethin’ medical, we gotta —”

“Nik,” he insists again, “stop talking.” Cups his hands along a chiseled jaw and brings the man down to kiss him like that’ll explain everything. In a perfect world, maybe.

But even annoying as he’s being right now Taylor can’t hold it against him. He cares — in his own weird way sure — but he does.

They part for air but he allows strong hands to keep him close.

“I only just got back,” he mumbles almost breathlessly, “I don’t need you jumping down my throat.”

“Wait—what?”

“I —”

There’s a tickle on his forehead as Nik’s brow furrows. “No I heard ya. But you didn’ — we were here the whole —” Lucky for them both when, somewhere in the middle of those half-formed explanations and racing thoughts, he remembers that he’s Nik Ryder; Nighthunter.

“Got back from where?”

“Not here.”

“Yes, here.”

“Nik.”

Taylor would like to believe he relents because of trust, but knows the far more likely explanation is exhaustion. But he does and that’s what matters. “Okay Rook, okay. Your turn to call the shots.”

“First we need to get everyone together. I saw Vera and Cal, but…”

“Kathy an’ Cade were still givin’ statements last I checked. Iv’, Krom, and Garrus hightailed it before the cops showed up. Wait—you’re really sayin’ you don’t remember any of this?”

“Stay focused. Where’s Elric?”

“With them. He was out cold, hurt bad from the looks of it.”

Taylor’s heart straight-up stops beating. “Did the wraith —?”

“No Rook, no he, uh, he took a fallin’ rigging for you. Pushed you right outta the way and that’s how you hit your head. I really don’t like —”

“Later. We can’t go back to the Shift.”

“Well there we agree.”

“There’s my place, but —”

“No, nowhere connected to any of us. The Elders could’a hexed the place.”

“Suggestions, maybe?”

“Well damn Rook — not like I’ve got a map of secret warded places I can just pull outta my ass—actually…” Nik changes his tune so fast Taylor gets whiplash. But he knows the thoughtful look in those dark eyes well enough by now that he dares to have just a little bit of hope.

Why try?

Because I have hope.

By the time he’s pulled out of his brief recollection of The Fate, Nik is pulling him by the hand back into the crowd. They spot the beacon of Cadence’s towering head over everyone else and find the others still recuperating on the curb where he stands guard.

Cal spots Taylor and immediately tries to stand — but he’s leaning far too much to the right to be moving so fast. Katherine catches him, eases him back down with admonishing words.

“What did the EMT just say?”

“Yeah yeah, I ain’t a cub Kathy.”

“Then pay attention next time — to what they’re saying, not to their asses.”

Vera reaches for Taylor like a source of comfort. He takes her hand and squeezes; feels the warmth of her through blue medical latex in a way her usual silk doesn’t allow. Wordlessly she holds up a long scrap of familiar fabric as explanation.

Whatever Cadence had planned on saying, it catches on his tongue to be swallowed back down. Something makes his face turn away with a crinkle in his nose.

“No offense Taylor, but you smell like mold on vellum.”

“Huh?” Cal sniffs the air and comes to a similar conclusion. “Reminds me of the shed Kristof keeps his pelts in — like… dust and mothballs.”

“Uh…” what the hell does somebody say to that, “I’m sorry?”

“Just thought you ought to know.”

“Actually — speakin’ of all that research you do, Smith,” everyone looks at Nik like he’s grown a second head, but no one can match Cadence’s bewilderment; since that has less than nothing to do with the attack that’s left them reeling.

“What about it?”

“Any chance you know if the Saint Louis has still got that, uh, preservation sigil still in the stones?”

“Sure. That whole block of Chartres does.”

Katherine’s eyes narrow suspiciously. “Ryder, what are you thinking?” But he ignores her carelessly.

“Includin’ your office?”

“Yes but — Oh.” Epiphany crosses his face and makes his glasses slide down to the tip of his nose.

And though it may be just as annoying to be on the outs of something Nik, Cadence, and even Katherine with her slow nod of understanding seem to know that the rest don’t — there’s a comfort to it. Like they’re all back in the Shift shotgunning ideas on a chalkboard and not scrambling for a place to hide.

“I hadn’t thought of that,” the way Katherine says it though — it’s like a self-directed insult, “why didn’t I think of that?”

“Think we’ll all fit?” asks Nik.

Cadence gives everyone a calculating look, seemingly taking measurements. “I don’t see why not, so long as you don’t mind a bit of clutter.”

Kathy doesn’t even bother covering her snort, the derisive “Ha!” that earns her something like the vampire version of a pout. She remains unfazed. “That’s putting it a little more than lightly…”

“It’s not that bad. You’re making me out to be a hoarder.”

“Let’s just hope no one’s claustrophobic.”

“Kathy!”

Admittedly Taylor doesn’t know a lot about vampires besides the basics; immortal, super fast, super strong, blood-is-life. But there’s more, isn’t there? There has to be.

For example — werewolves are pack animals. He can guess that vampires are less so. So what fills the void?

Because from what he’s seeing before him… they’re nesting creatures.

This is a nest, right? Please someone say this is a nest, that this is normal behavior. That somewhere else in the city Isadora de la Rosa is just chilling in a giant pile of stuff like some sultry dragoness and Cadence is just following some sort of undead instinct.

Otherwise this guy needs help. Like — Hoarders-level help.

Ryder’s reaction does nothing to ease his discomfort; giving an impressed nod as his eyes sweep the room; the piles… and piles… and piles…

“You’ve cleaned up,” he moves an old filing box with little ceremony to rustle himself up a place to sit; apparently its every butt for itself here, “and is that two walls I can see?”

There are two seats not actively serving as storage and Katherine beelines for it. Cal gets there first with some semblance of victory — though it’s short-lived.

“You’re in my spot.”

“Grow up. First come first serve.”

She repeats herself in an actual growl. “You’re in my spot, Lowell.”

Arms crossed over his chest, he snorts a derisive “I don’t see your name on it,” only to fumble for purchase when she grabs the chair-back with both hands and spins it around.

Her name actually is written on the back. And in very large, blocky permanent marker.

She doesn’t need to tell him a third time. Settles in like it didn’t even happen. Out of everyone gathered, Cadence included, she’s the only one who looks like she really belongs.

“Three guesses why that is.” She says to Nik. It doesn’t take the man long to connect the dots.

“I’d’ve given some money to catch a glimpse of spit-shined Raines in this disaster.”

“Enough!” The vampire groans; finishes clearing up the last of what appears to be an outdoor patio table for the rest of them to prop against. “Unless by some miracle my—admittedly disorganized—attempt at scouring centuries’ worth of documentation in my so-far fruitless pursuit of an identity is the key to vanquishing the threat at hand.

“If so then by all means, continue on!”

It doesn’t help that the awkward silence is broken only when a towering stack of loose papers slides passed the tipping point and collapses somewhere unseen.

“Fuck.”

He accepts his defeat and takes up the chair beside Kathy with a surprising amount of dignity.

But his tirade served more than just a single purpose. It reminds Taylor of why they had to find somewhere to regroup, why it had been necessary in the first place.

You already know how, The Fate had said. And with a surety that had blurred the boundaries of whatever reality they had been in while talking outside of time and space.

Cadence’s mess isn’t the answer.

But someone not-Taylor in the room just might be.

“Vera…”

You already know. And the first thing he sees when he comes back to himself is Vera crying on the curb. That’s not a coincidence. In fact he feels a sharp, almost icy clarity when his train of thought switches tracks.

When he remembers the last time she cried and knows — just knows — that everything going forward isn’t random chance. It’s all meant to be.

Wordlessly they clasp hands. If before they were only doing this together and for Kristin, the same can’t be said now.

Taylor begins with a soft “I’m sorry,” because what he’s going to ask her is hard but there’s no way around it; he tries to be kind because she deserves that much at the very least, “but I’m gonna need you to tell me… tell us, I guess… what exactly you meant when you said you, uh, recognized the bloodwraith.”

Where’s a falling stack of papers when you need one?

Directly following another attack isn’t the best time to ask something that heavy. Everyone’s thinking it, but either lacks the guts or has enough brains not to speak it aloud.

The longer they wait the less time they have. If their minutes in the hourglass aren’t borrowed already.

Taylor can’t imagine the amount of courage it takes for her to share. She’d already been one sneeze away from “no no never mind, I don’t wanna bother you with it, let it go please; for me” back in the apartment. He recalls a brief flash of relief when they were interrupted. Though that didn’t last long given the news.

He’s there, you know, if she wants a hand to hold. Hesitates that hand over her shoulder as he watches the woman close in on herself… and lets it fall.

By the time she’s ready Cadence has ducked out and returns with a tray of water glasses and steaming mugs of fragrant teas. Three sleeves of soda crackers once abandoned are now their equivalent of a replenishing snack after a long journey.

All of it a little too mundane for the conversation at hand.

Vera gives herself a few shaky breaths — and begins.

“You ever been to one’a those big family reunions; the kind where you don’t know more than half’a the people showin’ up but it’s a birthday or a funeral or the like and you don’t really have a say in the matter?”

Literal crickets.

Even when she looks at Cal for backup he shakes his head and offers a shrug as an apology. “The Pack may be big but we’re tight. It’s impossible not to know someone, even if it ain’t a face but a scent.”

“But we can imagine.” Katherine makes a ‘continue’ gesture without bothering to mask the haste. “Keep going.”

Vera does.

“You’re wrong there, Kathy. No’ne who ain’t born a Reimonenq can really get what happens when you get more than a dozen’a us in the same room. All with the same blood in our veins but any opportunity to marry out the family, to change the name with somethin’ more bindin’ than just a court order — they take it.

“Last one I went to was ma Mémé’s funeral. Nawlins funerals, you know how they are —” only this time Taylor’s the sole sore thumb but no one stops to explain, “— and since she ran the Reimonenq Clan everyone who once carried the name or could have done was bound by duty to attend.”

Wistful memory clouds her eyes for a long moment. Whatever memory it is can’t be a happy one, not by the tick in her brow. “Met my uncle for the first time there. I didn’ even know Momma had any siblings — and here come up walkin’ two. They could’a been any random strangers on the street but they were huggin’ me and tellin’ me about seein’ me as a baby and…”

Katherine makes a not-so-subtle noise and shifts in her chair until it squeaks loud enough for Cal to flinch. It’s her chair, bears her name. She knows exactly what she’s doing.

Before she can say anything Cadence tactfully intervenes.

“So sorry about that; the chair drowned Kathy out. I could be wrong — but I think she was about to ask the relevance of this story and the wraith.”

Vera nods with a startling lack of apology. “If I could skirt around it I would. But every way I’ve thought about… about how I felt when I looked it in the eyes? This is the only way I can make it make sense.”

“It’s okay Vee,” says Taylor, “say what you have to.” And if he doesn’t mind her taking her time because it gets him a better chance of reading her inside, of understanding not just the words on her lips but the ones on her soul, he definitely isn’t going to mention it.

“I could see that they were my blood. Hell they were the spittin’ image of Ton—of Momma before she took over ma Mémé’s operations. The shady… smoky kind. But I didn’t know ‘em. I was five weeks away from my move to New York—I didn’t want to know ‘em.”

“Did they have the…?” She looks at Ryder sharply, watches him mime his hands without rhyme or reason. Her nostrils flare in anger.

“No. Turns out the Reimonenq Curse is a picky lit’le thing; picks the first born — or the only born, in my case. I got why she didn’t keep in contact when I found that out.

“I didn’ know why it bugged me s’a much until later. ‘Cause I just couldn’t give rhyme or reason to how I could see so much’a myself in stranger’s eyes.”

A hush falls over the group. Within it — an understanding. No longer with the need to ask Vera to tie her story together because she’s actually a lot more intuitive than even Taylor previously gave her credit for.

And now those tears of hers — always justified, always — they’re more than that. They’re understood.

Vera had looked into the eyes of the bloodwraith. What she had seen was far worse than simple familiarity.

She’d seen a part of herself in the rotting void of its skull. Recognized something hereditary in scraps of rotting flesh stuck in the gaps between its mouthful of fanged teeth.

And she’s still fucking standing, she’s still sane?

Not that there was any competition but Vera Reimonenq was definitely just crowned the strongest of them all in a landslide victory.

She gives them each individual looks. As if daring any of them to try and play Devil’s advocate. But why would they? You don’t fake something that soul-crushingly awful.

“There’s more.”

Cal kicks back on the floor with a groan. “Any chance there isn’t?” He’s the only one who could get away with it though.

“I wish that were the case. I’d been tryin’ to find the right time to bring it up — turns out it just needed to be brought up for me.”

I’m sorry, says way Taylor pulls her in for a one-armed hug.

It ain’t your fault, replies the last weary quirk of her lips.

“I ain’t the only one.”

“Tonya,” supplies Cadence, and Vera’s wobbling bottom lip breaks all their hearts in unison.

“Yeah—Yeah Momma she… she felt it too. I could see it in her eyes. She won’t spare it a thought but I don’ believe in coincidences anymore. She an’ I both feelin’ the way we did, then that thing’s touch takin’ away her Curse —”

“Mary Mother of Christ!”

The vampire stands so fast his chair goes flying into a stack of boxes — lucky for them all whatever contents are heavy enough to stay standing.

At first Katherine looks worried beside him, though it dulls quickly into exasperation. “Folks and faes I give you the Drama King…”

“Not the bloody time.” The look in those ruby eyes is almost manic — just like they had been when Cade had tried infodumping on them at the Shift. Only this might be slightly more relevant — hopefully.

“Care to share?” Cal drawls.

Cadence pays him no mind; focuses only on Vera and gets her attention in turn. There’s almost anticipation in the way he whispers, “You figured it out, didn’t you?”

“Well I wasn’t sure — not until now. You knew him?”

“I had the misfortune.”

“And you were… around when the Coven retaliated.”

“Like I said,” he wipes the lenses of his glasses with such convenient timing he could only be avoiding meeting her eyes, “I had the misfortune.”

It isn’t long after that they realize no one else is even close to catching up to them. A silent back and forth emerges Cadence as the lucky soul burdened with explanation.

“We’ve been so focused on the what of the bloodwraith,” there’s no possible way he knows what stack to dig through, it has to be a diversion to remove himself from the heart of the matter; doesn’t stop him from nudging Nik aside and rifling through an open filing cabinet, “what it is, what it seeks, what it can do.”

Nik grumbles at Taylor’s side. “And that ain’t important?”

“No no — it is. But it… it gave us tunnel vision. Made us docile; we stopped asking questions. Aha —”

Cadence pries free a packet; the contents of which Taylor can’t see even if he squints.

But the text must not matter because he focuses instead on a carefully cut newspaper article attached to the front. The same old paper as his news spread on the war — ink the same faded black.

He can barely look at it, though. Offers it to Kathy’s awaiting hand. “The fire was too great not to make the paper. Carlo personally ensured the cause of the blaze was covered up but no one could keep the deaths quiet. The city only knew three young women perished — not that they were the Garden Coven’s newest blooded witches. And because that fact needed to be concealed at all costs… there were no consequences for him to face.”

“For who to face?” Taylor’s afraid to ask but someone’s gotta do it.

Vera’s voice cracks when she answers.

“My ancestor — Derek Reimonenq. The Bloody Hand.”

“And the tortured soul the Coven used to bind the bloodwraith to this world.”

[spooky-raccoon]

Years Later (Part 8)

Pennywise x Female Reader

Part 8 to Years later!

Tag List: @trig-loves-clowning-around @rottenhearts-and-sharpteeth @aethersghoulette @sewer-clown-hype @clussysposts @originalclodmakergarden @queendemonfangirl @yeetingful @pennywi-se @wanna-rock-n-roll-in80s @risettochan

         The next morning, I could hardly tell what was sore and what wasn’t. My whole body ached and when I tried to get up from bed my body caved, making me fall back down.  I groaned out, my throat sore and parched.  I turned my head to the side to find a small note, folded in a triangle, beside a glass of water.  There was even a straw in it.  Odd. I rolled over and managed to get the glass of water and the note.  As I sipped on the water I took to reading the note.  It had Pennywise’s barely eligible handwriting.  I would have thought a being who had all the time in the world would have good penmanship but that wasn’t the case.  At least I could read it.

        ‘My little (Y/N),

Did so well for me last night.  Rest.  Rest the day away.  No need for work today.  Already made arrangements.  Won’t notice you there.  Rest. Drink up and will be back soon. Very soon.

        Word to the wise from Pennywise.’

        There was a smiley face on a balloon next to his little ending signature which made me chuckle.  At least Robert’s handwriting was nicer but Pennywise had the better signature.  I set the note back on the nightstand and finished about half of the water before laying back comfortable in the bed.  I looked to see that the bed was normal.  Not a spot of blood or dried up pool of saliva. Even my wounds were bandaged up. Poorly, but it was better than nothing. I stared up at my ceiling and tried to think of why he would clean up and even patch up my wounds.  He never had in the past.  Before I could think too much on it I was starting to fall back asleep.

------

27 Years Ago

         Pennywise and I had taken a stroll through the woods by the Barrens. It had been a nice enough day and Pennywise was in a better mood than usual.  I suppose it was from hunting earlier and he had gotten a group of campers who had wondered too close to the sewer entrance.  Or maybe it was the group of kids who had gone into the Neibolt house for a little ‘adventure’ that he made go insane as they tried to traverse the house. Either way, he was a pleased clown so right now he was kinder than usual.  As we walked I listened to him chat about various ways he had caught meals as of recent.  Sure, it made my skin crawl in some of the ways, but I couldn’t help being a little interested.  Just a little curious of this weird being that was Pennywise the Dancing Clown.  

        Along our walk we found a nice flat rock that both of us could sit on that the river moved around.  I laid out on it, stretching some which made my back pop in just a few places.  My hands folded under my head and I looked toward the sky that was painted in hues of orange, purple and blue as the sun was setting.  Stars were starting to show up here and there.  Pennywise laid out beside me, taking up most of the rock.  He copied my position as he too stared up at the sky. For a while we were quiet, and the thought crossed my mind.

         “Pennywise?”  My head tilted toward him to take a look at him.  He let out an inquisitive hum as he looked down to meet my gaze.  “Do you ever miss it up there?  Where you came from?”

          “Not particularly.”  Pennywise shrugged while looking back up to the sky.  “Have food here.  Don’t have to worry about that damn turtle.”  Maturin. Pennywise’s brother.  Pennywise had told me how Maturin coughed up the universe that I live in like a cat with a hairball.  It was almost unbelievable but knowing Pennywise and what he was, I could believe it.  “I have Derry under my thumb along with some other towns.  Why give up food that follows my whim?”

         “Makes sense.”  My gaze followed his back up to the sky.  “Wonder what other universes are like.  How different each one is.”  I was getting lost in my own curious thoughts which made Pennywise chuckle.

        “I can’t remember too much from mine.  Coming here and landing took a lot out of me.”  Pennywise raised a hand and pointed to a star that was brighter than all the rest even with the sun still somewhat out.  “Came from that direction.  Just right through.”

        I looked to the spot he was pointing, and my head tilted to the side as I tried to think of what it must have been like.  Before I could get too lost into thought he rolled over and he was suddenly over me, on his hands and knees with a wide grin.  I yelped and could feel my cheeks blushing brightly.  I hadn’t adjusted yet to the times he wouldn’t scare me, and he had been becoming more affectionate.  It was strange.  At first it was little things like wanting to be closer to me or even sitting with me when I watched movies.  Hell, the other night he had pulled me into his lap during a horror movie we were watching together.  My mind was still reeling at even that.

        “Little (Y/N) is a curious thing.  Wanting to know so much in such their short life.”  His head went from side to side and his bells in his collar jingled.  “Could perhaps help with that.  Yes, yes I could.”

        “I, uh, how could you do that Pennywise?”  My brow raised as I tried to not focus as his face was getting closer to mine.  His lips wet and looking plumper than usual.  No, they were always like that but god he was so close, and thoughts had gotten to my mind about what it would be like to have them against mine.  Just once and I would have been happy.

        “Agree.  Simple. Agree.  Say yes.”  He snickered, his tongue swiping at his lips.  His eyes were starting to change from their baby blue to the golden hue that I was more familiar with.  “Say yesssss to me.”

        My eyes faltered to his lips and that was enough for him for me to agree.  His lips met mine and they were softer than I could have imagined.  I could taste sweetness of cotton candy and a strong taste of iron that I could only be guess from blood.  As the sun was setting as stars started to fill the night sky he was working the clothes off my body, tossing them carelessly to the side of the rock. When I tried to cover myself, he pinned my arms down and growled in my face, reassuring me that no one would see and even if they did that they wouldn’t live to see another day.  I could feel my face was red from embarrassment and he  was eating up every bit of it, mocking me he peeled off the last of my clothes.

        “Little (Y/N) so worried that someone will see her body.  See your curves.  Gaze at your squishy bits that belong to me.  See how you give yourself up to Pennywise.”  He giggled as he started to tear away his own costume.  I had never seen him without it, so I watched with curiosity despite my nerves.  His whole body was pale white like his makeup.  There were even cracks in it like the ones on his face.  Everything seemed almost normal except for where his genitals were.  It looked like a row of sharp teeth that were starting to open up with a sickening wet sound. A thick, black tendril started to emerge from out of it that was riddled with different shapes of bumps and ridges. As it moved through the air, it shifted from red to a deep purple but always back to black.  The head was a bit flared and looked stiffer than the rest of it. A whimper left my throat and he laughed out as he worked on getting himself lined out as it finished emerging from him. “Relax, relax.  Going to give you everything you wanted.  Everything.”  

         I could feel it move along my folds which made me gasp out. It was exploring me as he loomed above me to watch my reactions.  My eye lids fluttered for a moment before he plunged it into me.  I cried out, not expecting for what it would feel like. It felt like heaven.  Every bump.  Every ridge and even the flared head made it feel like pure bliss.  He fucked into me as if he had always been the one to do so. He didn’t need to learn my body. He already knew each spot would make me melt more for him, melt so he could mold me into what he wanted and what he needed.  He played with my body and I was soon crying out his name as orgasm after orgasm rolled off of me.  

        Eventually, we were both collapsed onto the rock and he had me laid out on top of his body.  The sun had already set and there were the sounds of frogs, crickets and other bugs sounding off around us.  Things were still illuminated by the full moon and the stars above us.  Oddly, it was peaceful.  His hands even were running along my back.  The night was strangely soothing, and I could feel myself starting to fall asleep on him.  His question pulled me back just a little bit though.

        “Does little (Y/N) wish to have a family some day?  A little brood of her own?”  I could feel his head moving down to look toward me.

         “One day would be nice.”  I yawned out, not giving his question too much thought.  I knew he would have to go rest at some point and I would go on about my own life.  “Would be nice to settle down, get married, and have some kids before I die.  Maybe see some grandkids while I’m a little old lady on the porch.”  My chuckle was tired, and my eyes were starting to shut.

        “Would you do anything for them?  Whatever it took for them to thrive?”  He was sounding more serious with each question.  All I could do though was nod.  If he was planning on bothering me when he came back and try to go after my kids I would do what I could to protect them if that’s what he meant. Or maybe he would leave them alone because they were mine.  With a lighthearted giggle he patted me on the shoulder, and he was sounding like his clowny self again.  “Good, good little (Y/N).  Always good to hear.  Now rest.”

         Little did I know Pennywise was going to make sure I wouldn’t grow old.  That I wouldn’t find someone to spend the rest of my mortal life with.  At first I had thought he wanted to take away my hopes and dreams from me like he had done before.  Though, in a way I did get my wish.  That the child I would someday carry would be his.  I after all did agree.  At the time I didn’t know what I had agreed to, but I had agreed to be his. No matter what.

[ramblingguy54]

26, 29, 30, 36?

*cracks knuckles*Alright, let’s do this.

26: The late Robin Williams & Hayao Miyazaki are two particular people in my life I’ve idolized for what happiness/imagination they’ve brought into others lives. Robin Williams untimely passing still hurts for me to look back on because this man made it his mission to bring so much joy into other peoples lives through his acting on the big screen, whether it was dramatic or comedic. That’s what I found the most impressive about Robin’s range in acting. He could be an over the top funny individual, but Robin’s acting chops were in a league of their own. Whether he was behind the microphone having the time of his life as Genie on Aladdin or giving a powerful dramatic performance on Good Will Hunting as Will’s therapist, I could feel the unconditional kindness. There was something about Robin’s acting power that would usually manage to reel me in. Even if I never knew him in real life, obviously, this man just radiated with so much kindness that I felt from his entire presence on screen. It’s seriously unfortunate what became of Robin Williams in the end with his unexpected death, but his legacy has inspired me to be kinder to others in real life. As for Hayao Miyazaki, this guy is a huge factor in why I got into loving anime related stuff all the more, as his creations in storytelling and the art itself for the movies were beyond unlike anything I still have yet to seen be topped quite frankly. It’s so easy for me to get emotionally lost in his films like My Neighbor Totoro, Princess Mononoke, Castle In The Sky, and Spirited Away. This man never ceases to amaze me with how usually impactful and in depth his films are. They’re so full life that it’s easy to lose sight of whats happening in the actual story at times. Mayazaki understood how to breathe a ton of humanity into creating such resonating works of fiction. Have a much greater appreciation for them in my adult years. There’s a reason why they inspired companies, like Pixar, to create immersive stories of their own.

29: Favorite films range from Zootopia, Wreck It Ralph, M. Night Shyamalan’s Unbreakable, Aladdin (1992), The Secret Of NIMH, The Lion King (1994), The Incredibles, UP, Ratatouille, Wall-E, Finding Nemo, Inside Out, Kung Fu Panda 1 & 2, How To Train Your Dragon Trilogy, Toy Story 1-4, The Great Mouse Detective, Lilo & Stitch, The Emperors New Groove, A Goofy Movie, Good Will Hunting, The Fox And The Hound, The Land Before Time, The Brave Little Toaster, Frozen, Shrek 1 & 2, Coraline, Paranorman, Kubo And The Two Strings, The Muppets (2011), Princess Mononoke, Castle In The Sky, My Neighbor Totoro, Kiki’s Delivery Service, Spirited Away, Porco Rosso, Summer Wars, Beauty and the Beast (1991), Winnie The Pooh (1977 & 2011 iterations.), The Peanuts Movie, The Princess And The Frog, The Jungle Book (2016), Scooby Doo On Zombie Island, Harry Potters’ 1-7, Christopher Nolan’s Batman Trilogy, Wonder Woman, Sam Raimi’s Spiderman 1 & 2, The Black Panther, Thor & Thor Ragnorok, The Avengers, Avengers Infinity War & Endgame, Spiderman Into the Spiderverse, Captain America Trilogy, Iron Man Trilogy, Star Wars Episodes 4-8, and The Breakfast Club to stop this list from getting any longer. =P

30: Favorite TV shows range from Cowboy Bebop, Avatar The Last Airbender, Yu Yu Hakusho, Digimon Adventure 01 & Tamers, Teen Titans (2003), Batman The Animated Series, Ed, Edd,& Eddy, Samurai Jack, Courage The Cowardly Dog, The Powerpuff Girls (Screw that garbage reboot.), Chowder, Bojack Horseman, DuckTales (1987), DuckTales (2017), Gravity Falls, Code Geass (This series has shaky writing in a number of areas, but that ending was beautiful.), Amphibia, Steven Universe, Oban Star Racers, Made In Abyss, Stranger Things, Gargoyles, My Hero Academia, Naruto (I’ve got a soft spot for this series despite my MANY problems with its story later on.), Pokemon (Serious nostalgia overload!), Dragonball Z (My very first anime series I got into through the Toonami block. A real shocker I know. LOL!), Gurren Lagann, Kill la Kill, The Promised Neverland, Death Note, Chip N Dale Rescue Rangers, Sonic SatAM, Talespin, Darkwing Duck, The Grim Adventures Of Billy & Mandy, Robot Chicken, A Pup Named Scooby Doo, Kim Possible, Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood, and Fullmetal Alchemist (2003).

36: My three dream scenarios I’d like to fulfill? 

1: Become A Voice Actor

Been interested in voice acting since I was a young teen, but have been in a conflicted state over these recent passing years in my life on whether or not I’d like to approach that route. There’s a lot of commitment I’d have to put into auditioning my butt off for roles I may or not get. Then comes the consistent practicing to keep my vocal chords in shape, so I don’t get rusty whatsoever. The industry for this kind of job can be hard to get recognized in too by how many other notable well known VA’s there are already. Not to mention, from what I’ve researched up on being a voice actor doesn’t bring in the money naturally, as it’s more of a passion job which that’s terrific and all, but if I want to partake in this profession I’ll have to juggle a job along with that which putting all those factors in my head honestly makes me intimidated. Ahhh well, it’s just something I’ll have to wait and see on if I can make that idea into a reality or not. No need to rush myself, of course.

2: Taking Up The Mantle Of Reviewing Shows & Films For A Living

Fiction, just like for many people, has been a great deal of helping me in my life moments of stress, solitude, depression, and anger. I’d love nothing more than to further express that to anyone out there in reviewing in great detail certain films or shows that I’ve come to love over these years in my life so far. Mostly for animation though, as its been a gateway for finding many gems of quality films or series. It never ceases to surprise me on how creative and powerful animation can be with its inventive ways of getting me to become an emotional mess. While I do enjoy live action series and films they pale in comparison to the beauty animation has brought into my life, since my early childhood of watching shows on Cartoon Network, Toon Disney, and Nickelodeon to a smaller degree. I’d like to think I’m good enough with how I present my reasons on why I feel so strongly connected to these stories showcasing characters trying to find hope in their own hard times. I try my hardest to take moments of my own life and find ways to connect it with whatever story I’m getting into next, so it can be all the more a special experience for myself. It’s important to put whatever character resonates with you most in their shoes for why you feel their emotional journey connecting with your own life on every conceivable level possible. That will make it when you write these kinds of reviews a very empowering read for others to feel either heard in their own feelings or simply giving others a new perspective to consider on this piece of fiction you’re discussing. Seeing some of my own particular analytical posts in the past here on Tumblr garner some attention from people gives me a boost of feeling better about potentially making this choice.

3: Starting A Family Of My Own…?

I can’t begin to tell ya how many times I’ve gone back and forth for getting married in the distant future to become a father has sped through my mind. On one hand, it scares the crap out of me to be taking up that big of a responsibility. However, on the other hand its deeply fascinated me emotionally of creating life through love for your significant other in starting your own family tree. I’d love to be able to raise kids of my own to pass on the lessons I’ve learned in life to make them become better people in the distant future, while showering them with unconditional love and affection. That would fill me up with such an indescribable joyous feeling to hear their own dreams and desires on what they want to accomplish in life. While I’d be a strict parent, I wouldn’t be a hard headed one quick to dismiss their own complaints if they had problems with how I handled things, once they start to get older. The kind of parent I’d want to be is an understanding open minded one who doesn’t judge their son or daughter for when they have an issue with me. Just because I’m a parent in that scenario doesn’t put me on a pedestal of immunity from criticism. Granted, I certainly don’t want to be a doormat for them to try taking advantage of either, but it’s also important to not let your parental role go to your head, too.

Although, I don’t plan on even trying to make this last dream of mine happen anytime soon. This is something that is MUCH later down the road that I wish to have happen. However, I won’t lie and say that I haven’t considered just staying content as a single guy for the rest of my life relying on close friends to bring me joy equivalent to this dream. While I adore the concept of creating life through love and being a father, there’s a shit ton of responsibility that comes with it. The life of a parent is not just putting your all into it. You gotta give more than just 100% when wanting to be a parent. It’s a serious test of your spiritual endurance, which I’m not sure is something I’ll ever have the courage to do, but then again things can change in life on the flip of a dime, so I’ll see how this all plays out for myself. Maybe I’ll stay happily single or I’ll happily be raising kids.

Gee, I wonder why this dream of being a parent resurfaced in my head recently this year? Oh yeah, it was thanks to this character here.

Seriously, Della Duck holds a real special place in my heart for making me feel these kind of feelings yet again. Darn you space mom! LOL.

Thanks for the ask, man.

[9uk]

Let Me Stay Close To You  : part 1

⌲ summary : you were finally free from the worst nightmare of your life in high school. the doors of college welcomed you with open arms, you were set on living your best life in here, away from the toxicity back at home. that shimmer of hope in restoring your life, was somehow effortlessly crushed by a tap on your shoulder. “Hey Y/N, why don’t you say we catch up for a moment?”

⌲ pairing : bully!jungkook x reader

⌲ word count : 4.9k

⌲ genre : a whole lot of fluff maybe, refreshing jungkook, oc & friends ^-^

⌲ warnings : mentions of being a victim of bully, light grinding, suggestive terms

⌲ a/n : here it is! i’m so sorry if it’s bad :”

prologue > one  >  part two

You see, the reason why Jungkook constantly picks on you is—

Firstly. Although you were this sweet girl filled with compassion who treated everyone equally and nicely, you were nonetheless ostracised in school. Due to the fact that you covered up who your father was to protect yourself, and your family. 

“Wait Y/N, what does your father do?” One of your classmates had questioned, making sure she was pulling on and cutting off the right strings.

 Confirming, that it would be okay to ignore you.

“My father had died in an car accident a few years back.” Her eyes widened, in what you assumed as sympathy. “I only have my mom, who works at the coffee shop just around the corner of the street.” At that, her sympathy washes away and is replaced quickly by what you deemed as disassociation. All you receive is an ‘O’ shape formed on her mouth, before she slithers away to join her group of friends who carried Chanel bags and wore Gucci shoes to school.

 Everybody then knew you as the girl who is single-parented by a humble mother who works at a café down the street. There was this hierarchy in school, and there was almost no reason to get close to somebody who was not worth of connections and had no business strings to pull. To put it simply, your ass was not wealthy enough to suck up to.

And the perfect person to bully. (Without having their family company’s stock rate to drop.)

You try to pass off as indifferent as ever, like this was your life and everything to you is nothing more than a normality. 

But it isn’t. 

It’s sort of amusing how you had to travel to such extremities in order to make sure your journey in high school would be a smooth-sailing and unbothered one. 

You had rather those shallow-minded, materialistic people to keep an appropriate distance away from the girl in rags. Therefore, you lied.

“Oh there’s the girl whose father passed on from an accident.” Compared to, “Isn’t that the girl whose father committed embezzlement?” It’s somehow better in some way or another to lie about your father’s death than to tell the school the ugly truth.The former would cause people to avoid you, a fatherless child, while the latter would cause people to despise you, a criminal’s daughter. Sympathy was better than contempt, after all.

It’s been almost eight months since that—you could quite literally say, mind-blowing incident.

It was the time of the year where the first years would start enrolling into the colleges that have sent them an acceptance letter. It was the time, for a fresh clean start. 

For everybody. Especially you.

You got into a college a few hours drive far away from the hometown. You call it the hometown because that place had turned foul with the odour of filthy money, the values of the society you were living in back there unreservedly stinks of corruption and discrimination towards the less well-off and the weak—it wasn’t even yours to begin with.

 No, you didn’t want to acknowledge a place like that as your home.

You stuck out like a total sore thumb in that city. 

Surely the town had a beautiful cityscape, splattered with greyscale high-rised office buildings with doses of parks and bridges. 

It looked picturesque. 

Fact is, it only looked picturesque.

What lies behind the millionaire central business district was the cruelsome inevitable hierarchy and a deadly game of chess. 

Kill, or be killed.

You left for a peace of the mind, to put behind all the bad memories, nightmare of a terrible highschool life and the irreversible tragic situation your family was in. Your father was still an employee in that company, with no other choice but to work like a bull as a form of redemption to his wrongdoings.

 Meanwhile, your mother diligently worked as a barista and kept her profile low-key. She couldn’t enjoy her usual high-tea sessions with her housewife friends anymore, she couldn’t even lift her head when she stepped out of the house anymore. Tragic, indeed.

College was like a fresh breather. 

Like a clean and proper start to everything, considering no one from highschool was likely to be here with you. It was a chance to meet new, kinder people who did not steal your yoghurt or vandalise your belongings or maybe even split your forehead apart like a certain someone—and to finally live a life of someone normal. 

It was like a new shot at life. At least that was what you thought.

Carrying all your belongings from your old apartment, you hear noises coming from your dormitory.

 “Ah! What do I do? How am I going to cook all these ramen I bought?! Why am I so stu-oh my god!” Your roomie looks at you by the door, watching her go into a fit of frenzy. 

“You scared me! Why are you standing there like that?” She starts bursting into laughter. 

And you naturally let out a light chuckle, too. 

“I have a kettle, and it’s for sharing.” You lift up the pink sleek kettle you have in hand after overhearing her not-so-quiet state of despair. Her eyes twinkle with a gleam of hope, like her entire sanity just got saved. 

By a pink floral-printed, kettle.

“Thank you! You’re the best! I can already tell we’re going to get along just fine!” She beams in excitement and pulls you into a tight hug while you try to prevent all of your stuff from dropping onto the ground. 

Oh, so much for a kettle.

“I’m Sooyoung, nice to meet you…?” She chirps with her bright red lipstick and pearly white teeth—you already love her so much, your only friend in such a long time. 

“U-Uh, it’s Y/N.” You sheepishly grin, averting her sparkly eyes. 

So this is what the effect being deprived of any proper contact with humans felt like. You could feel chemistry building rapidly between the both of you, or maybe it was solely because you haven’t had a true friend in ages. 

Sooyoung was definitely outspoken and extroverted, simple-minded and direct with her feelings—which in contrary to you, who was leaning towards the more reserved and introverted side. Hanging out with Sooyoung made you feel like you had some self-worth, her strong initiative and inclusion towards you made you feel like you were needed as a friend, for once in so long.

 Regardless of your financial status. 

And no longer than a couple of days, the both of you had grown so close through the binge-watching of netflix and love for Toki’s fried chicken. The two of you hopped around campus, getting exploited to the publicity of various clubs and sport teams and adjusting in through the freshmen orientation you wished had never ended. Because the end of orientations meant the start of classes—which you weren’t such a sucker for anymore, knowing how much fun you could have to hang out with legitimate friends.

 It felt different, but it felt nice.

 To be able to speak without being afraid, to be able to tease and hug one another so casually without any obstructions of statuses. It felt nice to be able to be yourself, the Y/N who played tag, built sandcastles and rambled about the the number of dogs you were going to own in the future under the night stars, with your bestfriend. It felt nice to be able to open up your soul.

And that is why suddenly, you were a fan of raising the roof. You became one of those girls in their little squads back in high school who constantly had silly grins plastered onto their faces, squealing over celebrity crushes and skipping off to movie dates hand-in-hand with their girlfriends. And just for once, you felt like you were normal. You fitted in easily, with the help of Sooyoung, became just like everyone else. She introduced you to two of her other friends, Wendy and Seulgi, who were just as amazing as she was.

“Come on, let’s go Y/N.” Your mouth open agape as you looked at her, dumbfounded. What exactly were you supposed to wear to a friends outing? It was the first time you were actually going to meet up with her friends. 

“I-I have nothing to wear.” You blurt out, and Sooyoung makes a sound of something in between a scoff and a laugh.

 “Do you even need to wear anything? We’re only meeting Seul and Wen for coffee!” You embarassingly scratch the back of your head, feeling like you read too much into a coffee date.

 “Here,” She steps foward and pulls out a top from your section of the wardrobe. “This should do.” Sooyoung shakes her head as you get dressed, thinking how much you’ve never went out before.

You put on a long sleeved floral top and jeans. You have never been yourself in highschool, you felt like you didn’t have the right to, dress all girly and pretty—it felt like something only the rich and pretty could do. 

During the school break, you let your hair down, started wearing contact lenses, and even dyed your hair a light brown—you were almost unrecognisable. The thought that no one was going to laugh at you for dolling yourself up, had you shrieking in excitement as you happily made your way to the mall.

So here you were, sitting at the café nearby the university, having a session of gossip with your own little squad.

Having something or someone you love is honestly the greatest vulnerability. Once you have a taste of something, you wouldn’t want to let that go—no, not just yet. Once something is under your possesion, and the worst thing that can happen is that you would grow so accustomed to it. If you told yourself 4 years ago that you would be sitting with a bunch of your closest friends, chattering happily and discussing about what you going to wear to the party later in the evening over lunch— you would probably laugh in utter disbelief, for that would only happen in your wildest dreams. And the wildest dream were you living in, sitting at the caféteria having a serious meeting about how your clique should wear a similar concept of clothes and stride into the frathouse like bad bitches.

Though, it seemed like Seulgi was the only one serious about this whole thing.

“No thanks, I’m good.” Wendy opts out and decides to go with her own full black style.

“Um okay, who’s with me?” 

You could tell Seulgi was nervous, by how hard she is trying to come up with a mastermind plan with the four of you to at least leave an impression in the welcoming party. Her eyecandy, Taehyung was going to be there, she had to somehow step up her game, right? After drooling over him in Biology lectures for what seemed like weeks, she was finally going to gain a chance at some sort of interaction with the “love of her life”—as she proclaims—at this very major and important party of entering the college life. 

There was a foam of unsettling silence until Sooyoung decides to disrupt it. All of you wanted nothing more but to drink away your feelings of sorrow for the term that was about to commence.

“Okay fine, I will do it with you.” Sooyoung volunteers, seeing as to no one was particularly interested. 

“I guess I will join too then..” You raised, and Seulgi’s pout transforms into a smile at once. She proceeds to tug on Wendy’s arm, who was boredly using her phone while waiting for Seulgi to be over that idea. But as she looks up to three pairs of eyes expectantly waiting for her reply, she sighs. 

“I can’t believe the two of you agreed to it. Disappointed is an understatement.” With a roll of her eyes, the four of you laughed heartedly in satisfaction and carried on with the conversation about boys, boys and boys. 

After a long bonding session, which consisted of them being shocked as to how you’ve never dated before, which they found impossible—because they thought you were really gorgeous and lovely. As the girls scanned your features upon Wendy’s compliment, you knew they noticed the scar at your left temple—by how their eyes linger there for a moment before quickly diverting their gaze to the rest of your face as an act of oblivion. They chose to not question something you didn’t mention out of your own will.

 Who would have guessed you were a victim of bullying?

Suddenly, your chair screeched loudly “Oh crap, I’ve got to go submit some papers at the office!” You weren’t done with registering your details with the university, and had a lot of troublesome loose strings to tie up for your father wanted to you to receive the allowance he gave to you every month from the school. The office was closing barely in a few minutes, and you had to check it off your to-do-list by today. 

“Sorry girls, I have to rush off now,” You felt bad for leaving your friends like in the middle of an enticing horror story Seulgi was telling, but nonetheless you snatched your belongings and made your way out of the café, flustered.

 “See you at the dorm at 6!” Sooyoung yells out to you and you reply her with a sloppish wave. The rustic copper bells at the door twinkles violently as it busts open, and you’re flying off to campus.

The smell of succulent wild berries and soft white violets.

 He can almost recognise that smell from anywhere. Jungkook looks up from the game on his mobile device. His characters were groaning loudly in pain in his eardrums, losing the match but he squints in the distance, putting all the broken misplaced pieces of nostalgia together once again. Was that who he thought it was? Your face lingered faintly at the back of his head but he shook his head and pushed the suspicion away.He whips around and tilts his head from the dull pain of the whiplash. The clicking of her leather boot heels become amplified as his vision focused solely on her back—the way her soft fawn locks sway from side to side with every step she took, the way her cute pink top flowed in the wind of spring, this aura of confidence she had radiating around her entire form, the scent she left behind was persistent in his nose, and he hates to admit but it further confirms his suspicions. 

But no, it couldn’t be.

 It couldn’t be at all.

 He must be hallucinating, but she was on his mind the whole day, the sight of her slowly disappearing into the university’s building from the open walkway etched on his very mind. Something about that girl hit the sense of familiarity in him—with a pinch of longing and a sense of regret.

“Can’t wait to see Taehyung,” Seulgi’s feet tap on the ground in anticipation mixed with nervousness. She must have known she was not the only one fawning over Taehyung’s perfectly sculpted features. 

“Can’t wait to get wasted.” Wendy softly follows after. 

Sooyoung smacks Wendy, “And yours truly would have to drag your asses back?” She sulks at the fact that she had to control her liqour and not go all out tonight—for she was all of yours’ ride back. 

“Did you happen to forget that you’re the only one who’s got a driver’s license?” Wendy reminds, and Sooyoung is left with a defeated sigh, wishing she hadn’t learnt to drive before any of you all did.

The house was already slightly bouncing from the booming pop music inside, the windows doing a bad job at encasing the sound waves. The party has not even begun, but the whole house was filled with guests—freshmen, mostly—and it felt like half of the college’s students were present here. You swear you heard a few whistles as the four of you walked through the door, entering one by one, completely fazed by the entire atmospehere of the party. You sucked in a deep breath, calming your nerves and preventing yourself from developing a panic attack from how loud and crowded this place. 

You felt strange, your seventh sense pricking at your thoughts, as if a pair of eyes were watching you intensely. You weren’t used to being with large amounts of people, and to be frank, you already felt suffocated whenever you were in class. The comfort of being alone and having space was not appreciated enough. Especially in crazy parties like this.

A few moments later, while everyone seem to find home at this stranger’s house, you were still stiff and a little uncomfortable. Wendy went to join in a game of beer pong—you can hear her hollers of victory every once in a while. And Seulgi made her way to find her dreamboy, gathering courage to make her moves on him. Sooyoung decided to head to the kitchen to grab drinks, pulling you along, and chugged the unruly liquid in the red cups down too easily. Sooyoung poured you a shot of vodka while she had a cup of tequila in hand, “Y/N, drink this to loosen up.” She says assuringly and you grab suspicious red cup from her hands, looking at it with worry and hesistation. You weren’t one to drink alcohol, you never have and never wanted to. But you guessed it was time to try. 

Hands shaky, you immediately brought the drink to your lips, brows furrowing tightly as you down every drop of the vodka. “Wait Y/N, I should pour some soda water to water it down for you.”Sooyoung spins the cap close on the bottle of vodka as she looks around for the soda water. 

Cheeks full of hard liquor, both of your eyes widened when she turned around, with the red cup empty in your hand. You swallowed, and it burned your throat. Grimacing from the taste left on your tongue, you looked at her in confusion. “Was I not supposed to just-“

“Oh my goodness, Y/N!” Sooyoung’s face lit up in surprise. “I didn’t know you can hold your liquor that well! I should just..” She drinks straight from the bottle, like a baby sucking on a milk bottle, the hard stuff entering her system. 

“Ah, this just feels too good!” She screamed in pure intoxicated happiness and grabbed your arm, heading to the dance floor. “Let’s dance.”

 A light buzz clouded your mind from the three-quarter full cup of vodka as you smiled sheepishly, making your way to the dance floor. Sooyoung jumped up and down, swinging to the music and letting her body flow to the rhythm. Her enthusiasm infected you, causing you to slightly follow and move accordingly to her actions and the deafening music. The buzz gradually grew bigger, taking over your whole body, your limbs were dancing on their own as you slowly flutter your eyes shut to the feeling. You were smiling too much—almost unnecessarily as you blended right into the dancing crowd, Sooyoung long drifted away from you, probably having fun with somebody else who matched her high level of energy. 

You were certain that you were strongly inebriated, for your cheeks were burning red, and you were dancing. 

Dancing.

 If the Jeon demon was here, he would have probably took a video of you and laughed at your horrendous movements. But you were having the time of your life, enjoying yourself in this party, dancing. 

Fuck, why were you even thinking about him? You felt so free of worries, without any sort of burden‚ like a caged bird set free—you were floating with numerous bodies, to the song you always hear on the radio, with no judgemental eyes or hushed murmurs about the way you were acting. 

Your confidence was always weak, but for today, it got stronger—at least just for a moment. Everything felt perfect—even though you were alone, but you knew that you had three friends by your side and that was more than enough. You didn’t want this moment to end.

“Having fun?” A voice echoed in your ear. Although you felt like you were on fire, you manage to feel the hands that creeped up onto your hips, leaving you on slightly on edge and caution. The touch burned through the fabric of the short dress you were wearing, if it was even possible, and you tried turning around. But you failed as the strong grip held you in place, no one would notice you were struggling as everyone on the dance floor just looked like a bunch of twirling limbs. Before you could turn your head to catch a glimpse of the person who was laying their hands on you, he snuck closer to press against your back and rested his chin onto your shoulder. The side of his face so close to yours, you couldn’t even tilt your head around to see his face. It was like he didn’t want you to see his face, for all you know, self-consciousness.

 It wasn’t like you minded too much about people’s faces, if anything, you knew better than anyone else than to judge a book by it’s cover. Cover, meaning status, family background, level of affluence—let alone their damn physical appearance.

“You look amazing tonight,” His voice trickles into your ears like candy, sending shivers down your spine with a single compliment. But one thing for sure, was that he smelled so good, and it made you want to bury your face into his chest and let him be the only thing you were going to smell for life.

The faceless stranger didn’t grind onto your ass or sneak his hands further up to your breasts, but the both of you comfortably stayed like that, swaying gently to the music. You silently chided yourself for letting someone touch you like that without knowing his name, or seeing his face—but you enjoyed the way you were being held a little too much than you’d like to admit.

 Was this some kind of undiscovered trait of lust you had surging throughout your body?

There was only one way to find out.

You tilted your head back and pushed yourself against him, feeling his crotch press against the crack between the cheeks of your ass.He lets out a deep chuckle, one you assumed was filled with want and amusement from your gnawing desperation to feel him—without knowing anything about this stranger.

 Maybe you were too drunk, mind flooding with lustful thoughts and core aching a little from his strong grasp on your hips. But as he interlocks his fingers with yours and moves towards the stairs to bring you upstairs and satisfy your needs that you clearly displayed a few seconds ago, you halted in your tracks. “Waiiit,” You tug him back, speech slurring. And he refuses to turn back to face you, as though he is afraid that you would turn him down once you see his face.

 At the same time, he’s listening. 

He’s curious as to what you have to say to him.

With his back still stubbornly facing you, you pull him closer and unlock your fingers, spinning him around. 

“What’s your name?” You reach out to grab his hand once again, for reassurance. He looks at the floor, scared and nervous to meet your eyes for the very first time. The stranger was elegant and charming—you could sense it clearly from the aura he was radiating around you. 

But it was also clear as day that he lacked confidence. 

“I’m.. Namjoon, s-sorry,” You clutch his hand tighter to prevent him from leaving abruptly. 

You genuinely enjoyed dancing with him, and you feel like he was someone you would want to get to know better.

“Namjoon, look at me. Let me see you properly?” The words came out more like a question, nonetheless he raises his head carefully, as if to give you time you prepare for how ugly he looked. 

You know it all, too well. 

It wasn’t even a few milliseconds after you looked at his face before—“Namjoon, you look amazing too.” You returned the compliment, not for the sake of boosting his self-confidence or to return the praise—but he really, looked amazing. His brown hair is parted and combed back messily, his monolids and plump lips rested perfectly on his face. You couldn’t really understand why he was self-conscious about his looks, but beauty is in the eye of the beholder. A smile flashes onto his face upon your words and he covers his mouth with his hand shyly. God, he had dimples too. This man was downright gorgeous—it was a pity he couldn’t see that for himself.

 “I mean it, you look handsome.” You smile back at him, adoration for this man escalating in you as he chuckles.

 “Thank you, uh..” Namjoon’s eyes widened as to how he had missed your name. “I’m Y/N.” You finish for him and he shakes his head at how rude he must have seemed without asking for your name. He panics.

 “Sorry I just-” “It’s okay Namjoon.” You giggle, and he leans foward to press a chaste kiss to your lips. 

“Fuck, you’re perfect.” Your cheeks grow red at the sudden intimacy, being reminded of where the both of you had left off. 

“Shall we go upstairs?” He suggests politely—though, what may happen between the two of you, weren’t so much going to be so. 

“Sure-” 

“Hey Y/N, why don’t you say we catch up for a moment?”

 A tap on your shoulder brings your attention away from Namjoon, your hand dropping from his, hanging loosely by your side at the voice.

At his voice. 

You would never forget the voice who brought the insults and mean remarks into your ears, slowly feathering down to your pile of insecurities. 

You are certain, that you would never forget his voice.

You could feel your legs begin to tremble as your eyes meet with the devil’s, dark and fierce—piercing right through your soul. The devil, being none other than Jeon Jungkook. 

The first thing you feel is denial.

You can’t help but let your jaw drop, lips parting in complete shock and dread. No,no,no, it can’t be. You repeat like a mantra in your heart, hoping it gets to your tipsy head. It just can’t be. This has to be some sort of sickening plot twist in a Korean drama series, right? You tried pinching hard at your thighs, wincing as the pain assures you that this in fact, wasn’t a dream. And Jungkook, the guy who filled your teen years with plain torture and unkept peace, was standing right infront of you. 

The second thing you feel is fear.

You could feel your breath start to stutter, as you subconsciously take a step back from him with shaky legs. Namjoon, as expected, was gone by now. Probably having fled as he sees a far more dominating and confident look in Jungkook’s eyes. You were afraid. So afraid that this terrible man would come into your life and ruin everything for you. Sooyoung, Seulgi and Wendy would all probably leave you as this devil incarnate, would claim you to being his punching doll, once again. No one would want to stay close to a victim of bully. No matter how much sympathy they are able to gain, or how much external kindness they are able to receive—they still never have true friends to hang out with, share secrets between and to protect each other. Because who in the world would want to include losers in their fancy little squads?

 Victims are only viewed as a burden, bringing down the entire group, being the plus one in everything—it’s hard to open up to people that easily, afraid of saying the wrong things or doing things that would make others upset.

 It’s hard.

 And you solemnly pray Jungkook wouldn’t make it hard again for you in your new life in college.

As these train of thoughts travel pass your mind, the trembling hand by your side was now grabbed by Jungkook, as he waltzed you through the sweaty crowd and out of the thumping house that made your head spin. He pulls your speechless form outside, the cool and needed fresh air kissing your skin. His fingers are still laced with yours, gently tight and the feeling too foreign for your administration to the vulnerable mind. 

Jungkook looks at you with eyes that seem like concern and worry—something that was so unfamiliar to you and never encountered with before.

 With his thumb drawing circles over the back of your hand soothingly, that was the last straw.

“Y/N…Are you okay?” Jungkook begins.

And the third thing you feel, is confusion.

[kurtty-drabbles]

Cheating au

N/A: There´s a version of this story made by Sailor9 and the author will decide how that version will go on, me? I´m doing my own version.

@djinmer4 @sailorstar9

To begin this tale with "and they lived happily after ever" is a lie. Marriages not always are the key to everlasting happiness and Kitty is learning this in the cruellest way possible.

"Yana, can you pick me up? Yeah... I´d not want to be here any more" Kitty speak on her cellphone having her bags and suitcase ready without any mess or any belong forgotten.

She thought her marriage was stronger than this, but, apparently, she is wrong and Kitty Pryde is too prideful to let this "mistake" let unpunished. No tears are leaving her doe eyes, but, internally, she feels as she´s crying all the water out of her body.

"You made your choice, and I´m making my own" Kitty hissed to herself as Yana arrives right on time and the two of them leave without any ceremony.

_______

Kurt Wagner is feeling dread for his entire day, all his routine was marked with a sense of foreboding, and Kurt is never one to be superstitious, but, the feeling is glued to him for this particular day.

Even though his daily routine went without any problem. His work went just fine and his "extra activity" went without any disturbance(except some form of self-loathing) so, in the end, nothing warrants this sense of dread, but, it´s still so present as it´s has a physical form and is laughing at Kurt.

His house was not on fire, yet, Kurt runs to his own house with such speed that could rival him the Speedster of this universe. "Katzchen?" he asked and notices how some of the familiar objects that his Katzchen did pick as decoration are gone.

In fact, as Kurt starts calling her name he realizes that there´s only him in the house. "Katzchen?" and he finally spots a document on the glass table along with Kitty´s wedding ring.

Kitty is filing for divorce and inside the document, there´s a note saying a few words.

"It´s over, go see if SHE is available" and this makes Kurt breaks down crying, his body is shaking and he starts talking to no one or the Kitty in his mind to be forgiven.

He was a fool, a man that thought himself better than the rest for thinking Kitty wouldn´t find out or would accept any excuse. Kurt lost his Kitty by his own doing.

"Katzchen...please...I´m sorry, please" Kurt is lower on the floor and he can´t recall when he did leave.

___________________

Kitty is in the attorney´s office with a lawyer to represent her in the divorce, the woman is not feeling confident in such a meeting, even if Yana, her family is there with her. She-Hulk is there representing Kitty and before opening the door the green woman offers some comfort words for the still crestfallen Kitty Pryde.

"I´m going to speak now as a professional with my client, if you don´t want to direct any word to your ex, I´m here to serve as means of communication, now, speaking as a woman that was cheated before, don´t let that scumbag see you crying...he does not deserve that"

"I´ll try...You´re right, I just want to get this over with and move on" Kitty replies and She-Hulk nods as now they are inside the office looking at Matt Murdoc and Kurt Wagner.

The blue man tries to rise from his seat to talk to Kitty, to touch her, but, Matt stop him muttering in his ear ("this is a divorce meeting, not a happy hour")

And the terms are being labelled.

"My client does not want the house, Mr Wagner is free to stay with the house if he so wishes" She-Hulk states rather coldly.

"My client wants to know if there´s any way to reconciliation"

"No!"

And Kurt Wagner spends the entire meeting looking at Kitty who avoids his gaze until she looks back and Kurt is hit by anger, sadness and disappointment, which, is more than enough to make Kurt lower his head.

________________________ Life goes on, Kurt Wagner, can´t stop the time and his friends did support him, well, Logan did punch him and told he was an idiot ("you were crazy over Kitty, why you cheat on her?" "because I´m an idiot") and any contact with Kitty is lost as the woman does not wish to see him.

His remaining friends did suggest that Kurt go to a therapist and at first, Kurt refuses as he didn´t saw the point...doing therapy won´t bring his Katzchen back...but, as his friends point out, he can´t stay living like that.

"So, Mr Wagner, tell me, how life is treating you?" the therapist asked kindly.

"Awful, I made the biggest mistake on my life" Kurt states

"And how are you dealing with this?"

"how am I dealing? I don´t know...Why I lost her?"

"Let me ask something and feel free to not answer if you aren´t worried, what were you thinking when you cheat?"

"...That I don´t I deserve happiness..."

________________________________

The woman who he did sleep in the past did show up on his door to give him a daughter, a blue girl named Talia, that has 2 years old to one surprised Kurt Wagner. "She is yours...I don´t want her" the woman replies nastily with her blonde hair being tossed around.

The fun of fucking a married man is the excitement, the security and the pleasure, but, now that Kurt lost his dear wife and becomes this shell the blonde woman does not want to see him. (He did cut any contact after he lost his wife, but, even if he haven´t there´s no fun in sleeping with him and the blonde woman almost pity him...almost.)

"You are giving me a baby just like that?" Kurt asked a bit peeved and remembers a few tales about his own blood mother.

"She is yours if is that what you are worried, I didn´t fuck any other blue man, and I´m being nice here for not ask child support because I could and I would take each cent of you...but, then, I would have to look after the girl and I´m not a mother material...but you once told me how Katzchen" she mocks the nickname "would have been such lovely mother" and almost laugh at his face, except she has the good sense of running as Kurt is really making his appearance gets even more demonic than before.

Once alone, Kurt looks at baby Talia and sighs, yes, Kitty would have been a great mother...but he is not a great man.

"I..don´t know what to do, Talia, you got a screw up as a father, but, I promise to be better than my birth mother"

_________________________ Many years have passed, Kurt still does therapy and didn´t halt his life. The man quit his job and is currently working as a musician and has a relative success.

Talia is a grow-up woman now and Kurt thinks he did an alright job, while, still regret his past actions(sometimes, he still ponder about what could have been if he had been a better man) and according to her, Talia Wagner, found the man of her dreams.

"Dad, he is the one!" Talia said happily as she shows photos of the last date they had( a rock show) and Kurt look one second to the man in the photo to realize this man resembles a bit Kitty Pryde.

"His name is Charlie Pryde, he´s really cool and helps his mother with her business too"

"Mother?" Kurt asked and Talia nods as she says the name of Charlie´s mother. "Kitty Pryde, cool name isn´t it?"

________________________ Talia is right, Charlie is the one as they get married after two years of dating, all this time, Kurt and Kitty dance around each other, not sure what to say until their sons are finally wed.

If time was kind to Kurt, then it was even kinder to Kitty.

"Look, I know what I did in the past was awful and there´s no way to get forgiveness, but, I want to say that I´m sorry and if is there´s such thing as reincarnation or whatever the name is used...I would be a much better husband and man to you, you deserve it, Katzchen" Kurt states as the Talia and Charlie are dancing their first dance together.

"I forgive you, Kurt, and yes, maybe in another world, things would have been better" Kitty concludes looking at the couple with joy and pride.

[allthefilmsiveseenforfree]

Once Upon a Time in Hollywood

Quentin Tarantino is a divisive fellow. Love him or hate him, you have to admit, he belongs to a short list of contemporary directors who have earned true auteur status. I really really hated his last offering, The Hateful Eight, but my hopes were higher for his 9th film, Once Upon a Time ... in Hollywood. This movie has everything. Leonardo DiCaprio as a washed up actor, known for playing a cowboy in a 50��s tv show; Brad Pitt as his chilled-out stunt double/errands man; Margot Robbie as the ill-fated Sharon Tate; and a combination of 60s tunes and bitchin grooves that make the summer of 1969 come alive in the way only Tarantino can achieve. There is a lot, and I mean a LOT going on here, so is this more of a cool pulp fiction classic, or a hateful way to spend an afternoon? Well...

While its pacing is definitely uneven (and definitely indulgent), I loved this movie. I loved it so so much. The atmosphere, the humor, the creeping dread, the sun-slick sticky sweet days of a California summer - it’s all here, and it’s all being acted out by incredible actors who are really giving it their all. This may not be QT’s best, but I would argue it is the best example of the particular kind of leisurely, sharp-tongued fun that he does so very well.

The film is divided into two lopsided sections: the first 2 hours take place in February 1969, and the final 45 minutes take place in August 1969. Rick Dalton (DiCaprio) is trying to shake up his image by taking a new acting gig more seriously. Cliff Booth, his stunt man (Pitt), is running errands for Dalton and runs into a hippie girl (Margaret Qualley) who takes him back to the Manson family’s ranch. Sharon Tate (Margot Robbie) is also running errands and stops into a theater playing her film, The Wrecking Crew. It’s all a slice of life, setting up a mood and a time and place in a way that makes you feel nostalgic for a time that you (in my case) were never alive for. 

Some thoughts:

One thing I loved was all the tv, movie, commercials, and songs included as artifacts to specifically build a sense of time and place. All of these things are woven into the fabric and the language of the film seamlessly - as a rabid consumer of culture, there’s no one better to distill and cultivate those cultural artifacts into a feeling than QT. Say what you will, QT is damn good at creating a #mood. I love all the details about how 1969 feels. Also these fake Rick Dalton movies are incredible. 

I love seeing a couple of QT’s usual suspects - Michael Madsen! Zoe Bell (who was also the stunt coordinator on the film)!

I wish I had a gif of this Hullabaloo sequence on repeat behind my eyelids at all times, it brings me such great joy.

THIS MOVIE FEATURES THE BEST GOOD DOG OF ALL THE GOOD DOGS. Cliff’s dog Brandy is a giant red pit bull who is perfect and beautiful and so smart and so brave and I love her so much and want to bring her home with me and give her many face rubs and homemade dog treats. There are moments in which Brandy is in danger, but I promise you, Brandy emerges from the encounter A-OK.

What shocked me the most was probably how funny this was. Much, MUCH funnier than his last few movies. Also, I don’t think I heard the n-word once! Is this a kinder, softer QT? Hard to say.

I always thought Austin Powers’s outfits were an exaggeration, but based on Roman Polanski’s going-out outfit, I guess the whole velvet suit and lace cravat thing was very unfortunately real. 

Speaking of, one detail I liked best is that Roman Polanski as a character doesn’t have like, any lines at all. Because NO ONE gives a shit what he has to say. Good call, QT.

No offense, but in what universe is Damian Lewis hot enough to play Steve Motherfucking McQueen? 

Sharon Tate also has an excellent little grey floofy dog. There are many good dogs present and accounted for. 

I know LA is a car city, but man...there are a lot of driving scenes. Like....too many driving scenes. This movie is 2 hr 41 min long. And don’t get me wrong, those long shots filled with 1969-era radio ads and songs and long, meandering drives through the Hollywood hills DO set the mood in a way that nothing else can but, I feel like we could have done some editing here nevertheless.

Sexuality is a confusing thing, man. I am happily married to Wife, and frankly I don’t feel the same kind of gut-level “oh no he/she is hot” reaction to ANYone like I did in my 20s anymore but. B U T. Shirtless, scar-covered Brad Pitt smoking a cigarette in work gloves may be the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. That says more about me than it does about Brad Pitt, but like. Human beauty. What a time.

Mike Moh’s performance as Bruce Lee is both hilarious and extraordinarily committed in a visceral, physical way. His whole scene is a highlight of the film.

I’m half wondering if Trudi (Julia Butters), the young method actress who makes such an impression on Rick, is partially based in Leonardo DiCaprio’s own experiences as a child actor. He seems like the type to be uh. Real intense about THE CRAFT.

For as funny as most of the film is, my blood did run cold when Charles Manson (Damon Herriman) sees Sharon Tate for the first time. Oh also, lest you be misled like I was, Charles Manson is barely in this. The trailer makes it seem like he will be a heavy presence in the film, and the shadow of him certainly looms large, but for actual screentime, he barely cracks 2 minutes.

A small but significant thing - the footage of Sharon Tate’s film, The Wrecking Crew, has not been altered to put Margot Robbie in it. Instead, the real Sharon Tate’s performance is shown on screen. I appreciated her memory being preserved in this way. 

Nothing takes me out of a QT movie faster than all these gross ass dirty feet. All of these hippie girls in the Manson family hate shoes and they live on a fucking ranch where everything is covered in dirt, it’s disgusting. I have no problem if YOU have a foot fetish, but my god man, does subjecting us to it have to be part of it??

My favorite line in the whole movie might be “Give me evil sexy Hamlet” because that is a vibe I wish there was more of in the world.

In many ways, this movie is a story about friendship and the ways it changes and guides our lives. The deep, intimate friendship between Rick and Cliff is almost like a marriage, and there’s a real sense of respect and care that they have for each other. 

About 2 hours into the movie, I was thinking “Wow, you know, this really hasn’t been very violent at all for a QT movie” but then...

I really enjoyed the stinger at the end, featuring Rick hawking Red Apple cigarettes. 

Did I Cry? At the very, very end. Mainly for Sharon Tate and the senseless violence that was done to her. This film is a love letter to her, a kind woman who did not deserve her fate. 

This features a lot of QT classics with a lot of the rough edges sanded off. Oh sure there’s a lot of the fuck-words thrown around, and there is some sizable violence towards the end, but the whole thing feels downright wholesome in comparison to a bloodbath like Kill Bill or even Inglorious Basterds. QT is very good at what he does, and if you can handle a more meandering, softer touch, there’s no better way to spend a few hours at the movies than letting the magic of a Hollywood long gone sweep you away. 

If you liked this review, please consider reblogging or subscribing to my Patreon! For as low as $1, you can access bonus content and movie reviews, or even request that I review any movie of your choice.

[justmewoo]

Dirty Little Secret |eɴᴅᴇᴀᴠᴏʀ x rᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ|

I was naive falling in love with you. But maybe a part of me wanted to believe everything you said.

"wнen тнe тearѕ coмe ѕтreaмιng down yoυr ғace  'caυѕe yoυ loѕe ѕoмeтнιng yoυ can'т replace  wнen yoυ love ѕoмeone вυт ιт goeѕ тo waѕтe wнaт coυld ιт вe worѕe?" -coldplay.

_____________________________________________________________

"Did you ever feel that magical spark inside you everytime we made LOVE?"

How did it end up like this? Why did I let him treat me like garbage? Only used me so he wouldn't feel alone. I was naive and stupid thinking that maybe one day he would change to become a better man but, I was foolish for such a wish like that. I fell head over heels to ever think it would happen. Maybe somewhere deep inside of me had that tiny little hope. I could still remember those hatred words he yelled before leaving the hotel room where we last made love. 

"If  you don't want to loose that scholarship that I PAYED for, you better keep your mouth shut. You're nothing but a foolish girl who's only good at sleeping around with heroes for money. Forget we ever met and go back to your pathetic life. I never want to see you again." Those were his last words. Yet after such a long time I can't seem to forget them. 

It's true that if it wasn't for his help I couldn't had gotten into a good college. But he was wrong about sleeping around with other heroes because the person whom I lost my V card was him and no one else. He's completely insane if he thinks I sleep around with others especially heroes. I was only a freshmen when that argument took place and the last time I saw him. He said he was going to pay for the scholarship every year but he lied. Once the second semester was over they inform me that no one had made a payment for the second year. 

I got two part time jobs during summer vacation but it still wasn't enough to pay for the second year. So with all my heart I had to drop out it was impossible for someone as a simple civilian like myself to pay an extreme amount for a college that wouldn't had turned me into a hero even if I wanted to. But for someone like myself who comes from a small middle class family living outside of Tokyo could never get a fair opportunity like that ever again. 

I had no other choice but to return back home and help out my mom with taking care of my sibilings. My mother remarried with a man named [D/N] he's a kind and gentle men who loves my mother very much. Despite him not being my biological father he's always supported me and my crazy ideas. My mom and him had two little girls. One is eight years old named Akari while the youngest one is five years old named Himawari. 

My biological father passed away before I was born so my step dad adopted me as his daughter giving me he's last name. It's been at least two years since i've been living with my family. I was nineteen years old when everything fell upside down. But I have turned twenty one a few months ago thankfully living here has been a great environment for me. My family has helped me get through it and I hardly think of him. They don't know anything about my secret relationship with Endeavor and they probably never will at least that's what I used to think.

I know work at a elementrey school where my both sisters attend. I'm a teacher's assistant for fourth graders. Both my parents used to ask me about why I dropped out of college when I was so excited about attending. Of course I had to lie and try my best to dodge the question but of course they both knew something was up. But respected my privacy and space so they stopped asking. 

"Ne, sister are you going to the field trip with us to U.A. University tomorrow?" [I AM HAVING THE CHARACTERS INCLUDED IN THIS FANFIC SO EVERYONE WILL BE THE SAME AGE AS THE READER.] Himawari asked glancing at me as all three of us walked down the street holding hands together. 

I smiled down at her. "Of course I will hima your big sis will be with you all day tomorrow." 

Akari snorted. "That's not fair why can't you come with me it's not the same with mom." I stroked her hair. "Don't be mean Akari mom is fun at fieldtrips. When I was your age she would always sit with me in the bus along with all my friends." 

"What's so fun about that? It sounds pretty lame to me." I pinched her cheek. "She would use her quirck to make magic tricks." I released my hand from her cheek. While she rubbed her red cheek and continued walking. 

"Alright, you have a point there mom's magic tricks are pretty cool. Wow look at that look sis it's him!" Akari pointed a finger at the televisions from a store on our right side. I turned my head to Akari along with Himawari running over to the glass window where other people passing by took a glance or ignored it and continued on with their day. 

"You guys we are going to be la-"

"Just In the Number Two Hero Endeavor has done it again. Earlier this morning he captured one of the villains whom was on the most wanted list for killing several people around Tokyo. There are a few casualties but nothing to serious luckily civilains could now feel free to walk around the street without feeling scared look there he comes now. Mr. Endeavor Sir can we get a word!." The reporter and cameras all gathered around Endeavor with the villain tied in a rope. Endeavor crossed his arms smirking at his surroundings and directly to the cameras. "Mr. Endeavor how did you managed to captured such a villain who was on the search for almost two years." He asked placing the microphone over to him. Endeavor took a step forward to the camera and spoke. 

"It doesn't matter how he was captured all you need to know is this villain will not hurt another civilain he will be in jail for a very long time. The Number Two Hero will always be here to proect everyone that's my job as a hero." Endeavor walked away from the reporters making them chase over him to get another interview out of him. The screen turned black and people cheered including my two younger sisters. The small crowd that was gathered around the small shop disappeared one by one. 

"Endeavor's so cool don't, you think so sis?" Himawari asked running over to me as Akari followed behind. 

"I know right! When I grow up I want to become a hero just like him!" I snapped my head towards them. I clucthed my hands near my side. 

"Don't you ever repeat that again do you hear me Akari you could never be like him and you will never meet him ever! Now come on we can't be late for school." The rest of the way to school it was silent both girls know not to talk back when I get angry.

Once arriving to school Akari walked away from us to her friends leaving himawari and I alone. Hima glanced at her sister then back at me. "Why did you get mad at us big sis?" She asked hugging my leg staring me back with those big brown eyes of hers. 

I looked down at her then back at the ground. "Because...." 

"Do you not like Endeavor sis? Because you never get mad at us often Akari is sad because you yelled at us but, we didn't do anything wrong." 

I shook my head kneeling down to her height. "Me not liking.... him has nothing to do with me getting mad at her I promise." 

"Then why don't you go apologize to her?" She sure isn't making this easy maybe I should apologize to her. I just wish she wouldn't look up to someone who doesn't know the true him. Underneath all the fame and glory he doesn't give a crap about anyone. 

"Himawari i'm here what do you want." Akari stood next to hima. 

"Big sis wants to apologize to you now do it quick i'll leave you two alone." Hima ran away over to her friends. Akari kicked a pebble with her shoe ignoring eye contact with me. 

"Listen I shouldn't had yelled at you. I was just angry because you ran off without my permission and took Hima with you. I don't want anything bad to happen to you okay...... and about what I said forget it you have the right to look up at any hero you want just please... choose someone better like All Might or Best Jeanist. Don't you think Enj- Endeavor is always grumpy and doesn't like other's company. Do you want to be like him? And talk like this. I'm Endeavor and am the number two hero. I get so angry that I burn myself with my own quirk." I spoke trying to immitate his voice. 

Akari laughed shaking her head. "Not anymore I want to be like All Might because he always smiles and saves people with a smile!" She yelled. 

"See people who save people with a smile are a lot kinder than those who can't never seem to smile." The bell suddenly rang indicating its time for class to start. 

"I promise to take you and Hima for ice cream after school now hurry before you get late to class." I hugged her from behind planting a kiss on her forehead and released her. 

"what about me sis." Himawari came running towards me hugging my waist and gaved her a kiss on the forhead too. "Hurry Hima i'll see you later." Akari waited for her little sister and walked inside the building together. I made my way to the other building of the school. 

FLASHBACK:

It was during summer break before attending my first year in college when I had a planned a big surprise for Enji. I had bought brand new yukata's for couples. Enji's yukata was inside a big blue and grey box with a light baby blue bow. I placed the box on the brown table in the middle of the living room with a note attached to his present. I took a shower and got ready to meet him at the festival before he came home from work. I had asked him earlier today what time he would get home and said around six if nothing important came up. Once I was fully dressed I took a quick picture and saved it before grabbing my purse and exited the apartment. 

When I reached the outside of the building the sun was settling down. A few patches of the sky had a colored of pink mixed with yellow indicating summer time was just beginning. The air was warm yet fresh at the same time. A big smile was plastered on my face as I walked down the street alone admiring the great afternoon many couples walked ahead of me wearing yukata's or kimonos holding hands together walking next to each other. As I walked behind the adorable couple's I couldn't help but imagine how my relationship with Enji would be if he wasn't a pro hero or yet.... married. I was his lover after all there's no way I could ever become his girlfriend. 

I wiped the tears that where slipping out of my eyes before it ruined my make up. I continued my way towards the temple where the festival is being held in. When I reached the temple the sun was no where to be seen but the beautiful night sky filled with stars and a full moon makes everything light up. The festival was full with people standing at the food stands ordering food or walking in a group.

From kids to teenagers to even old people are enjoying the festival. I was the only person who was on her own but I knew soon it will change when Enji gets here. Speaking of Enji he should had gotten home already maybe I should call him. But first i'm going to go get something to eat. I skipped happily at the caramel apple stand to buy an apple. After buying the delicious apple I decided to call Enji and see if he's gotten the surprise. I took my phone out of the bag and dialed Enji's number while taking bites of the apple while I waited for him to answer. 

After the fourth ring he had finally picked up the phone. "Hey, Enji are you home from work yet." I spoke between chews. 

"Yes i'm outside the building where are you, what's that loud noise in the background?" He asked annoyed. 

I smiled enjoying the great atmosphere. "Just go inside the apartment there's a surprise waiting for you." 

"What the hell are you talking about. I'm walking inside now." I could hear the sound of keys and the closing of a door. After a few seconds I could hear him dropping off the keys on the table where the present is laid out for him. "A blue Yukata? why did you buy something I don't wear, where the hell are you." 

I giggled. "It's for you silly I want you to wear it right now and meet me in the festival that's near by..... I was thinking that this could be our first d-

"I'm not going, we aren't a couple your my lover get it through your thick skull how many times do I have to repeat over and over again for you to understand that we aren't in a relationship. I never did this crap with my wife and am not going to do it with you." 

My lips quiver the apple I was eating seconds ago lands on the ground getting covered in dirt all over it. The atmosphere around me fell suffocating I want to cry and screamed at the world. "B-but E-En-ji I wanted to... I thought w-we could spend time together like any couple." 

"We aren't a couple gosh darn it [Y/N] can't you understand what I just said! Do you want the entire world to know about my affair with an eighteen year old! Do you want to ruin my career!" Enji growl throught the phone. 

"But Enji-" 

"No buts! You know what i'm going home I don't want to see your face today!" Enji hanged up the phone before I could speak again. 

"But I love you Enji....." 

Enji had used his quirk to burn the blue Yukata and threw the box away ripping it in pieces. He grabbed his belongings and left to his house. When I got back to the apartment the place was a mess. There where pieces of burned clothing everywhere. The placed reaked of fire but when I realized the burned clothing was the Yukata I gave him my tears had finally fell. 

"[LAST NAME] Sensei you're crying are you alright?" My memory came back to school. The voice of a student brought me back to reality. 

I wiped the tears that I didn't know I was crying and smiled back at them. "I'm alright just got something in my eye maybe its this air that causes me allergies but go on continue doing your work so you can go play with your classmates." They nodded and continued to do their classwork while I spaced out again. 

"I keep telling myself I will forget about you but it's impossible because you will forever be my first love." 

________________________

Thank you for reading this fanfic of Enji. I apologize for the bad grammar and mistakes. English isn't my first language so writing could get a bit difficult. Another thing dont bring any hate because I know not everyone likes Endeavor. Thank you for reading see you next time! One last thing every character from Izuku to Tenya will be the same age as the reader so in their early 20s. And U.A will become a University. 

[mrswhozeewhatsis]

The Rest

A/N: This is my first fic for the 2017 Louden Swain SPN Mini Bang, and is actually for one of the Station Breaks songs. God, I love this song. If you haven’t heard the album, GET IT. It’s PHENOMENAL. Anyway, special thanks to the best betas a girl could ask for, both of whom challenge me and make me better, @littlegreenplasticsoldier and @manawhaat. 

Summary: It’s all about what you give away and what you keep for yourself.

Pairing: None.

Warnings: Angst.

Word count: 2740 words

She stared at herself in the mirror, taking in the miles of white beaded satin while sounds of her best girlfriends decorating the sanctuary of the church drifted in through the door. Everything was perfect. The dress complimented her figure and showed just enough skin to not be too much. Every one of her closest friends had been able to come to help her organize the million and one details that had to be nailed down before the big day came tomorrow.

Her fiancé was perfect. He’d gone to every cake tasting, made suggestions about songs for their first dance, and wrangled his groomsmen like he’d been a cattle rancher in a former life. Her mother had completed the seating chart and paid the deposits on everything, and her father had laughed at them both as they debated whether Aunt Elizabeth should sit near Uncle Seamus or if it might spark a food fight. Everything was as she had dreamed it would be the first time she’d wondered what her wedding day might be like.

Except, instead of smiling, she was staring blankly at her reflection, wondering why she wasn’t happy.

She should be crying tears of joy or giggling uncontrollably or just too giddy with happy excitement to speak, but none of that was happening. She wasn’t sad or nervous, not worried, anxious, or even depressed.

She was nothing.

That first day she’d pictured her wedding day, she’d doomed herself to this. After finishing her high school physics final early, she’d made intricate notes about flowers and dresses and attendants. She’d stared out the window at the raindrops landing in puddles in the courtyard and pictured her perfect life. Every detail was planned out on that college-ruled page and it became her roadmap to this very moment.

The plan was drawn up meticulously. She’d meet a nice boy, be married by 25, and have her 2.3 children before she was 30. Her father would walk her down the aisle to a mystery man in a smart blue tux. The music would swell as she smiled at everyone she knew until she reached her soon-to-be husband. They would buy a nice little house with a big back yard for their dog to run around in, and they would invite the neighbors over for barbecues in the summer. This is where it would all start and everything was exactly on track.

So why wasn’t she happy?

Okay, so her future mother-in-law wasn’t exactly thrilled. Instead of 25, they were only 20, and they had decided to put off college in favor of attending the University of Life. She thought they were too young to get married, “Too innocent,” Hmph. Little did she know, the accelerated timeline for their plans had been sparked by a pregnancy scare. So much for innocent. By the time they found out there was no baby, the church was booked and deposits were down on a banquet hall and caterer and florist and string quartet and a million other things you wouldn’t expect to require a deposit but do.

Which led to her standing here, staring at some bizarre version of herself who was wearing a wedding a dress and pretending to be happy.

“Linda, dear, we need your opinion on which pews to decorate with the tulle and which to leave blank. Every pew looks too busy, and no one can agree on whether it should just be every other pew, or every third pew, or just a couple of pews around where the family will be sitting….” Her mother’s voice droned on from the other side of the door, but she tuned her out.

Suddenly, she couldn’t breathe. The dress was suffocating her, squeezing her ribcage until she could no longer fill her lungs with air. In a frenzy, she ripped the dress from her body, not caring when the fabric tore at the seams. Even when the dress was lying on the floor, completely ruined, she couldn’t stop trembling and gasping for air. In her panic, she threw on her regular clothes and stuffed the dress haphazardly in the closet, rolling it up so bits wouldn’t stick out the door and give itself away. She searched the room for pen and paper but didn’t find any. Unable to stand being there a minute longer, she decided that she could send a note later and peered carefully out the door before sneaking out where her mother’s footsteps had just echoed.

The hallway was clear, giving her a straight shot to the outside world, to freedom, and she took it at a dead run. Her mad dash was stopped just outside the main doors by none other than her husband-to-be.

“Hey, beautiful! Linda? What’s wrong?” He rubbed her shoulders in that perfect way he had that always calmed her down, but it didn’t work this time. Her words erupted out her mouth almost too fast for him to understand.

“I’m so sorry, David, I just can’t do it. It’s too soon, we’re too young, I’m not ready, I don’t know what I was thinking, really, anyway. Just take all of it, I don’t want any of it, the dress, the decorations, the bridesmaids, the groomsmen, and oh, God, your mother-I-I’m proving her right! She said we were too young and she was right, and oh, God, David, I’m so sorry. I just have to go, I’m so sorry.”

David stood in front of the church where he had thought he was going to get married, his bride’s parting words flowing over him like rushing flood waters, and he watched her, helplessly glued to his spot while she jumped in her car and disappear into the night.

***

The keys in his hand gleamed in the firelight, mocking him and his misery. The moon had already risen, but it wasn’t quite dark enough for stars to come out, just yet. The birds around the lake mourned with him while his heart lay salted and burned on the ground. His unlikely savior, a man by the name of Rufus, stood beside him, silent. It’s not like there was much to say by then, anyway.

It had taken years for David to get over being left at the altar. Okay, so she left him the night before, but it was only a few feet away from the altar. He had lost himself in drinking and gambling for a long time, staying in posh hotels when his luck was high and in his car when it was not. Then he met her. She was an angel. She gave him a reason to stop looking at the world through the bottom of a bottle and start seeing everything with clarity. He sobered up. He got a job. He paid off his debts. When he was finally a man he felt was worthy of her love, he proposed, and they got married. A year later, his son was born.

They had bought this cabin because it was “rustic”. It had seemed like a nice place to get away from it all, whatever it might be that they felt they needed to get away from. It was small, but well-built, with just enough amenities for it to be a step above camping. They had come up here a few days ago to get away from the man now standing next to him; to get away from the crazy stories he spewed and the unpredictable spark in his eyes. For the first time, part of David was glad the outside world had found him here. Another part of him still wished it hadn’t. The rational part of his brain told him he’d be dead if it weren’t for Rufus, though his heart would never understand.

Who could understand when a strange man knocked on your door and warned you that your wife was a monster? That in a few days, when she turned thirty, she would hunger for human flesh and not care whose flesh it was? Rufus claimed he was a hunter of monsters, and had inherited the job of making sure that David’s wife never hurt anyone like her father had. It was so far-fetched, no one could blame him for not believing, for taking his wife and child and running to the safest place he knew.

Rufus had found them, he was a hunter and tracker, after all, but not before his wife had killed their son in her animalistic mania. David escaped the house, and when she followed him, Rufus had done what he’d had to do. David watched his wife die in agony, an inhuman roar bellowing from her throat as she was engulfed in flames. After her final breath was gone, Rufus had spread salt and gasoline over the remains where they lay, burning them again until there was nothing left but ash.

David stood in the driveway next to his car, staring through the last wisps of smoke at the cabin that had been his escape, cheeks wet with quiet tears. He ripped his eyes away from the myriad of memories to tug at the keys on his keyring. When Rufus approached him, the cabin’s keys were no longer attached.

“You know, before my son was born, we once tried to have guests up here. We thought we could have a bonfire and Debra planned all of this fancy schmancy stuff as a kind of counterbalance to the dirt and the backwoods environment. You know, hors d'oeuvres plated on pieces of bark and matched with expensive wines and things like that. It went horribly, of course. Everyone got eaten alive by the mosquitos, two people caught ticks, one of whom ended up with some freaky disease no one’s heard of, and almost everyone got food poisoning because the electric went out and the fridge warmed up without us realizing. That was when we decided that this place was just for us. No one else. This was our respite, and, maybe we’d retire here someday.”

Rufus stood in front of David, head hung low and hands on his hips, letting the quiet linger for another moment before he shook his head and said, “I owe you an apology. I was trying to be, well, nice. I’ve been trying this, you know, kinder, gentler approach to,” he waved a hand in the air, “everything.” He crossed his arms in front of his chest, cleared the lump in his throat away, and continued. “I heard a rumor that they don’t always turn. Like, maybe it’s a recessive gene in some, and I thought- against my better instincts- I thought I should give her a chance.” Rufus heaved a breath and let it out slowly. “I was wrong.” He stared off into the distance to keep from having to look the grieving man in the eye. “They always turn.”

David turned to Rufus, wiping his face. “I’m sorry for not listening. I should have listened.”

Rufus waved off the apology. “I’d do the same in your shoes.”

David held out the keys to the cabin for Rufus to take. “Take ‘em. Take it all. Take the cabin, take the dock, take the boat, take everything. I don’t ever want to see this place again, and you can use it when you’re not hunting. It’s safe here, if you don’t bring the bad stuff with you.”

Rufus took the keys with wide eyes and a slack jaw, but before he could thank David, the man was in his car and backing out of the driveway. The old hunter hoped he’d never hear the man’s name again, but somehow thought he would.

“Kinder and gentler can bite my fabulous black ass.”

***

Sam leaned up against the Impala, arms crossed, waiting for Dean to stop flirting with the waitress in the diner. They’d spent most of the afternoon in an abandoned factory in an industrial park outside of town dealing with a vengeful spirit with an older hunter named David. The ghost had been difficult to track down, and David had called Bobby for help. Bobby called John, who sent Dean and Sam, since he was wrapped up in a ghoul hunt a state over. With the hunt done, they’d all decided to share a meal before splitting town, but Sam suspected he and Dean might be staying over one more night.

David exited the building, shaking his head with a smile, no doubt at Dean’s antics. He approached the car, giving her another appreciative look like the one that had endeared him to Dean. He stood next to Sam and leaned against the car with him, matching his stance with arms crossed.

“So, Sam, you’re what, 17, 18, now?” he asked, looking the boy up and down, like his height could truthfully tell his age.

“Sixteen,” Sam replied, hunching down even further into himself to try and look more his age and less like the man everyone expected him to be.

David nodded. “My son woulda been about your age by now.”

Sam glanced at the old hunter, knowing better to push at old wounds, no matter how curious he was. Every hunter has a story, and none of them are fairy tales.

“It’s a good age. Got the world on a string and the energy and optimism to do something about it.” Sam could hear the nostalgia in his sigh. “So, what’s your plan for taking on the world in a couple of years?”

Sam shrugged. “Family business, I guess?” He could feel David’s sudden and intense attention, but he tried to ignore it.

“Sam, you are the smartest kid I’ve ever seen. You figured out who the ghost was in half the time I took to even try and fail, and you figured out what he was tethered to, even though he could have been attached to anything in that factory. Are you really going to waste that hunting?”

Sam shrugged and stared at the ground. “Pretty sure that’s what my Dad wants me to do.”

David heaved a heavy sigh. “It’s bad enough that old folks like me get roped into this life, but you’re a kid. You should be going to college, getting drunk at all-night keggers and weekend craft beer fests, pledging frats, and sleeping through your first class of the day. And you’re a smart kid, Sam. You’re way too smart to be caught up in this hell of a life.”

Sam shrugged again, not sure what to say in the face of someone so vehemently stating what he’d always wanted to hear, but could never allow himself to even admit to wanting. He kicked a stone that had the unfortunate luck to be sitting on the ground in front of him, and watched it bounce across the parking lot towards the diner door where Dean was finally emerging, triumphant, with a napkin in his hand.

“You remember what I said, Sam. You get out. Get out and don’t look back. Go be a doctor or a lawyer, and help hunters out that way, but don’t be this when you can be so much more,” David spoke only loud enough for Sam to hear, with his face an indifferent mask as Dean approached. “You got the girl’s number, Dean? Good for you, kid!” The older hunter gave Dean a high-five and a slap on the back as congratulations.

An hour later, after they’d said their goodbyes to David, and Dean had run off to his date with the waitress, Sam sat in the motel room looking out the window. For a crappy motel, it had a pretty good view of the setting sun as it sunk below the horizon. He considered David’s words seriously. It was only the second time in his life someone had told him he could, and should, be more than just a hunter. He could never tell Dad or Dean, but it all suddenly seemed possible. He could go to college, maybe Stanford, become a doctor or a lawyer, and help hunters that way. He could have a normal life, but still save lives like Dad had always wanted.

When Sam was done examining the idea from all sides, polishing it until it shone, he tucked it deep into his heart where no one could find it. He was going to keep this for himself, do this for himself, and Dean could have the salt, the silver bullets, and all the rest.

Lyrics for The Rest by The Station Breaks

It was the eve of the day Dreamt up in the summer rain Scrawled in italics On her old physics page Now it's finally here And the flowers in place And she found herself wondering Why she wasn't feeling anything 

She said, "you take the rest The tuxes and vests The groomsmen like knights Unaware of their quest Take the ribbons and bows And your mother, god knows She never approved Of our innocence Yeah, you take the rest." 

The cabin was safe Secluded in shade The water was still The loons echoed refrains But he would not return Memories still burned The moon was like fire Set to take him alive 

He said, "You can have the rest Take the moss-covered fence Take the dock and the boats And those pesky insects And take the angry dinner guests Ooo all burned and tasteless The barbs by the fire That never made any sense Yeah, you can have the rest." 

It was a family truck Inherited by luck In the industrial park He worked through the closing bell And this old man said "Boy, get a college ed You're way too smart To be lost in this hell." 

But he said, "You can have the rest The diplomas and tests The all-night keggers And the weekend beer fests Take fraternity row All too drunk to know The being late to class Aimless and dense" 

I watched the sun set Deep in the west And I'm saving my best For the light in my chest And you can take the rest

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[lomlwintersoldier]

Let Me In {4}

Sequel to The Sun and The Stars

Previous parts: | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 |

Word count: 2069

Warnings: none yet!!

“Bucky, where the hell are you taking me?” You ask. You’d been driving for at least an hour and a half and you had long left Manhattan behind; you were surrounded by nothing but greenery at this point. It had been a few weeks since you’d pinned Natasha to the wall, and things were rocky at the tower to say the least. You could tell Bucky wasn’t loving being at the Tower right now, and you figured that was why he’d told you two hours ago to to grab some clothes together and wait for him in the lobby. Then he’d led you to the car and had been very quiet about where you were going ever since. 

“You’ll see, beautiful.” He grins, flashing you a mischievous look. You shake your head at him but finally, you reach a small trail, so hidden that no one would expect to go down “What is this?” You ask as you step out of the car. “I found this little place a couple years ago, before I found you again.” Bucky replies as he makes his way over to you and drapes an arm around your shoulders. “No one but me knows about it, which is nice.” The two of you walk for a little bit until you reach a small pond, a little paradise within the cover of the forest. You look up through the trees and see the moon, shining bright, directly in the middle of the trees as a clutter of stars, unclouded by city lights, surround it. You sigh in absolute awe as you stare up, not realizing just how much you’d missed the peacefulness of a place undisturbed by the noise and commotion of the city. It felt like home. “It’s so beautiful.” You whisper just as Bucky comes up behind you and wraps his arms around you, lightly pressing his lips to your neck.

“Just as you are, zvezda moya.” He murmurs in Russian. You smile and twist your fingers in his hair as you continue to gaze up at the sky. But there's something so striking about the moon that can rival even the grand majesty of the sun and it takes your breath away. You somehow can't tear your gaze away from the white orb floating in the sky as the stars twinkle around it. You realized now that the moon, although softer, kinder, less harsh than the sun, is not the polar opposite of the sun but rather a part of the universe that coexists with it. You somehow can’t shake the thought away from your mind.

You turn and stare in the eyes of your sun and press a kiss to his plump red lips, savoring his taste and the feel of his hands roaming your body. An overwhelming swell of love overcomes you, accompanying the warmth you always felt when you and Bucky connected. You were addicted to the feeling and you never wanted to let him go.

 You startle awake, breathing hard. Your shirt clings to your back and your heart is pounding as if you’ve been having a nightmare. It takes you a moment to realize where you are but after a few moments, you recognize the car, and you glance behind you where Layla is sleeping peacefully, smiling at her small face. You sigh in relief and lean back into the seat.

“You okay?” Steve asks as he glances at you with concern. You nod and shift yourself so that you’re sitting up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, trying to shake the dream from your mind as it threatens to open the wounds you’d just barely sewn shut. You’d been driving for hours now and you still had no idea where you were going.

“Bad dream?”

“Sort of.” You mutter. “What was it about?” “Do you always ask this many questions?” You reply harshly but your anger is misplaced; the dreams were always amazing, so real that you could smell his scent, so wholefully Bucky, feel his lips on yours, hear the low, sexy timbre of his voice. You loved the dreams because they brought you back to his arms but the second you woke up, the agony returned and you were forced to remember the reality of your life. He was gone and no amount of dreaming could bring him back. “I’m sorry.” You mutter. “It...it was both good and bad.” “Bucky.” He says it like a statement, not a question and you nod apologetically in response. “I have those too.” “About Bucky?” “About everyone.” Steve replies. His hand tightens on the wheel as he’s reminded of the faces that haunt his dreams, which you’re now intrigued about. Who kept Steve from sleeping peacefully? “Who are your dreams about?” 

“The most prevalent are Bucky, Peggy. My parents on occasion.”

“Peggy? Who is she?” You ask curiously. You sit up so that you’re resting on your leg and turned to face him. “I worked with her in 1943, when I got the serum.” He mutters tightly. “She was your girlfriend.” You state, noticing the way his face tightens when you say it and you know you’ve hit a nerve. A sad smile crosses his features as he glances at you. “Maybe she would have been. I’ll never know.” He replies. “What happened to her?” “After I ‘died’ in 1944, she lived her life. She had a family, and grew SHIELD into what it was. Then she died a couple years ago.” He replies painfully. You feel guilty for pushing him but now that you know that he understands what you’ve gone through, you feel a newfound comradeship with Steve because his pain mirrors your own.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper contritely. “I didn’t know you...understood.” “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Y/N.” He smiles. “Clearly.” You smile back. The two of you fall back into silence but after hours of looking at bleak, damp forest, you finally turn onto a dirt road; you continue down this path cloaked by trees and darkness until you see a small light, twinkling in the distance. Intrigued, you sit up and peer through the darkness as Steve drives forth. Finally, you reach a small cabin far from any sort of civilization but you don’t mind that. It’s a familiar feeling. 

“This is the safe house?” You ask. It wasn’t what you anticipated. It was warm, cozy, and seemed not at all like Tony’s taste, you think as you pull up to the house. “It was built a long time ago. Repurposed to be a safe house. And it’s completely undetectable thanks to Tony’s work on it.” Steve grins and you realize he loves it too from the way he looks at it. You get out of the car and reach into the back to get Layla out of the car. Her face scrunches up and she rubs her eyes but as soon as you rest her comfortably in your arms, she’s out again.

Steve grabs your backpack and his own duffel bag easily and leads you to the front door, easily pushing it open. “Wow.” You murmur. “This is nice.” It has a distinct cabiny feel to it which you instantly feel attracted to. A fireplace sits in the back of the living room but it’s still comfy. The warmth and comfort is so inviting that you can’t help but feel entirely at home here; still a part of you feels guilty that Steve is here, even though you’ve done nothing to feel guilty for. Yet. You take Layla to one of the rooms and declare it as yours by dropping your stuff on the bed. You surround her with pillows so she won’t roll off the before heading back to the living room where Steve was already stoking a fire.

“I can get some food going for us. You must be pretty hungry.” Steve states. Suddenly made aware of your own hunger, your stomach growls. “You don’t have to do that.” You say but you aren’t convincing. Steve smirks and once he’s got the fire going, he stands to hunt around the kitchen, looking for something to whip up. “You cook?” You ask incredulously as he turns on the stove. “Of course.” Steve laughs. “I like cooking.” “Ah domesticity.” You tease as you sit down on the couch and curl your legs under you but keep your eyes on Steve’s back as he looks through the fully stocked cupboards. “Wanda taught me a couple things.” After a few minutes, wonderful, spicy scents fills your nose and you hum in approval. “What is that?” You ask as you lean into the couch, your senses reaching for the scent.

“Beef stroganoff.” He smirks. “Don’t worry, it’s almost done.” A few minutes later, Steve brings over a steaming bowl of the food and places it in front of you. You murmur a thanks before diving into the food eagerly, trying to satiate your hunger. “This is amazing.” You mutter. Steve laughs at your enthusiasm and when you finally finish scarfing down the food, you lean back into the couch, exhaustion overcoming you. After a few moments, you turn on your side to look at him. “Why did you come here with me, Steve?” You ask seriously. He shifts uncomfortably before wiping his face of the emotion. “I told you. Bucky would want to make sure you’re safe.” “Right.” You reply, trying not to sound disappointed. “Uh well, I’m just going to head to bed. Thanks for the food.” “Of course.” He says kindly. “Yell if you need anything.”

You flash him a quick smile before heading back to your room where Layla was fast asleep. She’d been so excited for the first few hours of the car ride, completely insatiable but she’d fallen asleep quickly. You stroke her cheek and kiss her forehead before heading to the bathroom to change. 

You pull off your shirt, exposing the long, thick scar extending down your forearm. You shudder away from the painful reminder as it opens a dam of emotions and memories that you wished you could forget.

You look at yourself in the mirror, wearing nothing but a bra and underwear and stare at the scar. You look exhausted, your hair's a mess, and you can’t help but feel like the woman Bucky fell in love with is no longer there. You feel old, not physically, but mentally. You are so very tired of this life and what it has thrown at you, although some things are definitely your fault. 

But the past two years have been ones that left you empty, broken, and most of all, lonely. Finally, you can no longer look at yourself so you curl up next to Layla on the the large bed, holding her against you and you fall asleep in minutes. 

Steve watches her leave, feeling conflicted as she walks away from him and disappears into her room. He wishes he could spend more time with her but he knows what he feels isn’t reciprocated. How could it be? It was unthinkable; she was Bucky’s girl, the mother of his best friends daughter. How could he even think to come in between that? His heart aches as he leans back into the couch and stares up at the ceiling. 

The first time he met her, it was like something had washed over him like a blast of fresh air. The moment she’d turned those eyes on him, he’d been completely an entirely smitten. Of course he kept it quiet, I mean, she was Bucky’s and they were clearly happy and when he’d died, a selfish part of him had wanted to go over to Y/N and comfort her. But he didn’t trust himself to do that without feeling the overwhelming need to kiss her. That was why he left on missions so often and for so long, because he knew if given the chance, he would do something idiotic and probably get her hurt in the process.

Guilt ate him alive as he thought of how much he truly felt for her; when she’d asked why he’d come with her, a part of him wanted to blurt it out right then and there but the rational part of his mind kept him from making an idiot of himself.  

How could he possibly explain that he was in love with her?

Next Part: Part 5

Let Me In Masterlist 

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[krisiunicornio]

Yogis and scholars explain how to stay present and embrace what each decade brings your way.

I turned 40 last May, and I’m apparently about to tumble into years of despair. Because, according to friends and colleagues who hit that milestone a few years before I did (not to mention researchers), my “midlife crisis” is right around the corner. But I don’t buy it. Sure, I need at least an hour of meditation with one sock on, one sock off (no joke) and 1.5 (no more, no less) cups of Sleepytime tea to fall asleep, but that’s hardly what I’d call a crisis.

Jonathan Rauch, award-winning journalist and author of The Happiness Curve: Why Life Gets Better After 50 also rejects the idea of a midlife crisis, a term coined back in 1965 by psychologist Elliott Jaques. He prefers to call it a slump or, on perhaps less optimistic days, a “constant drizzle of disappointment.” Still pretty bleak sounding if you ask me.

Multiple studies of adults in countries around the world show a U shape on the happiness scale as we age. In fact, according to Rauch, “it turns up so frequently and in so many places that many happiness researchers take it for granted.” The U shape suggests that people feel good in their 20s, then get a bit more miserable in their 30s—until everything bottoms out in the fifth decade. In fact, according to a new study by Dartmouth professor David Blanchflower that examined trends in 132 countries, life’s “peak time for misery” happens around age 47. Ouch. Maybe that’s why my friends would rather say they’re celebrating the 20th anniversary of their 20th birthday than proudly own the Big 4-0.

See also Find the Happiness Within You

There is good news, however. Studies by Blanchflower and British researcher Andrew Oswald bear that out. Their findings suggest that well-being “declines steadily (apart from a blip around the mid-20s) until approximately 50; it then rises in a hill-like way up to the age of 70; after that it declines slightly until the age of 90.” Happiness deepens as we age, like a fine wine. But until then—what? Those of us in our 40s are destined to mope around and bide our time until we can get a senior discount? No thank you. Fortunately, University of Pennsylvania researcher Matt Killingsworth has a different point of view. He found that happiness is tied to being present—not fretting about the past or even lusting after retirement.

I decided to set off to find a way to make it through this quote unquote low point without entering crisis mode. There has to be a way to be happy—no matter what the trends suggest—at any age.

“THERE HAS TO BE A WAY TO BE HAPPY—NO MATTER WHAT THE TRENDS SUGGEST—AT ANY AGE.”

What Is Happiness, Anyway?

Clearly, how a person defines happiness affects their perception of it—and there are myriad definitions to consider, from ancient traditions to modern scholarly ones. In the yoga world, for example, there are at least four types of happiness. Santosha (contentment) implies a sense of delight; being content with what you have, who you are, and where you are in this moment. We’re happiest when we’re not wishing we were better, richer, kinder, or any other kind of different. Sukha (ease or, literally, a good space) is the comfort or sweetness we feel, even in the midst of confusion or turbulent times. For some people, mudita (sympathetic joy) is the hardest of all. It asks us to be joyful for those who are happiest; to be happy for the good fortune of others—even if they have what we wish we had. We experience ananda, the state of being blissfully happy, when we stop trying to find happiness and simply experience it. Yogic scholar Georg Feuerstein once wrote that ananda is “what we experience when our whole body radiates with joyous energy and we feel like embracing everyone and everything.” The Dalai Lama himself says that happiness is mainly having “a sense of deep satisfaction.” All of these definitions are, in the words of Killingsworth, “tied to being present.”

Rauch went with a more scholarly definition in his book. He breaks happiness down into two categories: affective well-being (how you feel today, how often you smile) and evaluative well-being (how you assess your life as a whole). His research looked at the latter: “You might not feel happy today, but you still feel your life is fulfilling and rewarding,” Rauch says.

See also 5 Happiness Boosting Poses

Although Rauch is a fan of the U curve, which he contends “has been pretty stable over time,” he also believes there will always be outliers. And even within the same shape, he says, the details of the curve, such as where it bends and at what age, vary by country, suggesting there could be some social impact to our well-being.

How to Be Happy at Every Age

Even if research shows happiness commonly dips in middle age, that doesn’t mean we can’t be happy at any age.

Linda Sparrowe, co-author of The Woman’s Book of Yoga and Health: A Lifelong Guide to Wellness (with Patricia Walden), believes that each stage of life has its high points on the happiness scale and, alas, its low points, too. Yoga and certain mindful lifestyle practices can maximize the pinnacles and minimize the troughs, she says. While the stages she writes about are fluid—adolescence moving into our 20s; early 40s holding fast to the 30s, the late 40s having more in common with the early 50s, and so forth—Sparrowe agrees that each decade brings something unique to our growth.

See also How to Train Your Brain for Happiness

Ayurvedic practitioner and yoga teacher trainer Niika Quistgard encourages people to look at doshic patterns as a general map, not an unbreakable fact. “There are generalizations that can help us take a closer look and see if they’re true for us at the time, but we can’t just boilerplate everyone,” Quistgard says. “Life is more complex than that.”

With that in mind, let’s examine the ups and downs—the gifts and challenges—each decade may bring.

THE 20S

Anyone who has navigated the rough waters of puberty knows how amazing it can feel to move past insecurities, erratic hormones, and conflicting messages from family, friends, and the media that threaten a person’s sense of self. No wonder the 20s are thought to be at the top of the happiness curve. Sure, there are still moments of doubt, as young people struggle to feel less awkward and more grounded—to become more independent, to find their voices, and to embrace both their vulnerabilities and their strengths. There are still times of falling down and getting back up and falling down again. That’s all part of what makes this the decade of “becoming.”

My 20s were a wild roller coaster, tearing through the social constructs that had limited my youth. I hit rock bottom, at one point living in my car after I left a dysfunctional relationship. But that was when I finally began to discover my true self and separate from my family, controlling partners, and trauma from my past. I had nothing, yet I had independence, and that was everything.

My 20s were challenging, but there really is no better time to try things on for size—to play with new ways of showing up in the world—and to explore new places, ideas, and relationships. Yogic philosophy calls this stage brahmacharya, or the student phase, which centers around learning, playing, and finding mentors.

See also 5 Ways to Boost Happiness

Yoga plays an important role in this time of awakening. A physical yoga practice—standing poses, arm balances, backbends and forward bends—can be stabilizing and strengthening, both for the body and for the emotions, and help to build self-confidence off the mat, too.

THE 30S

After a decade (or more) of self-inquiry and investigation, the 30s arrive, bringing a shift in focus from the inner to the outer world. Suddenly you are coming into your own, and you are ready to show the world your fabulousness. You are more outward-facing, establishing yourself in the workplace, creating new ideas, setting down roots, taking care of others, and perhaps starting a family. I got married and gave birth to my daughter when I was 30, and it completely transformed my life. At the same time, I was building my career as a travel writer—it was hectic, but I loved it. Yogic philosophy calls this period grihastha, or the householder period, a time of adventure, family, and enterprise during adulthood.

The challenge, of course, is you run the risk of losing yourself in the process, not making time to take care of your own physical and emotional needs. Sparrowe warns that when we move into this decade, we straddle “a fine line between being present in the world and being swallowed up by that world.” These are heated, ambitious, passionate years, influenced by the fiery pitta dosha, says Ayurvedic practitioner Quistgard.

See also Path to Happiness: 9 Interpretations of the Yamas + Niyamas

So, it’s important to stay balanced as much as possible. Otherwise, your creative, no-time-to-lose energy becomes more frantic, until you run the risk of chronic stress and burnout.

Committing to a regular yoga practice can bring your focus inward, which will help to calm and reset a young-adult nervous system. It worked for me. I didn’t really embrace a regular yoga and meditation practice until my 30s, and then it was out of necessity. I needed it as a way to create an intentional separation between my deadline-driven work life and my home life; I needed to learn how to truly finish something before I started something else—not just in a physical sense, but in my mind as well. A consistent home practice—even for 10 minutes a day—can give you a respite from all the responsibilities you shoulder (at work or at home), help you refuel, and put things back into perspective. Put your legs up the wall when you get home; listen to soothing music; do several rounds of pranayama (Nadi Shodhana is particularly balancing); go for a walk. And then, move into your non-work time with your full attention and joy.

THE 40S

When author Rauch hit his 40s, he was dissatisfied despite his achievements and wanted to know why.

So he did what any self-respecting journalist would do: He interviewed experts in psychology, neuroscience, economics, and sociology to help make sense of what was going on. He also conducted what he called an “unscientific survey” of approximately 300 ordinary people about their lives, he told me.

The results, which he describes in his book, led him to understand that our 40s are a decade of transition and a certain amount of upheaval. Our priorities—in other words, the things that relate to our sense of evaluative well-being—tend to change over time. We typically value competition, ambition, and achievement in our 20s, 30s, and early 40s, but as we move deeper into our fifth decade, we may start to question whether we’ve achieved our goals, whether we’ve done enough, and—even more fraught—whether we still matter. At the same time, Rauch says, “We’re beginning to shift our values toward caring, cooperation, and community,” which can feel confusing. Not to worry, he says. “If you hit a slump in your 40s, know it’s temporary and you have a lot to look forward to. Anyone who says, ‘If you haven’t made it by your 50s, you’re finished’ has it exactly backward.”

See also Bringing Happiness Home

Meditation and yoga nidra teacher Tracee Stanley encourages people to embrace the transitions in their lives, welcoming them as portals to redefine and rediscover at a deeper level what happiness truly means. “A lot of times in life when there’s a transition, there’s also a vacuum.

A void. The most powerful place to put your intention is in a void,” Stanley says. “In a transition, if we can stay awake and aware, that’s where power is.” Stanley recommends yoga nidra (yogic sleep) during this time, which she calls a deeply “immersive experience of self-inquiry and deep rest” that can increase your intuition and bring more clarity to your purpose—all of which will serve you well as you move into your later years.

THE 50S

Even though Rauch says we have a lot to look forward to in our 50s, sometimes that’s not immediately apparent. Entering a new era, some people complain that they feel invisible, irrelevant, or kind of “in the way” in a culture obsessed with youth. Some grumble that their bodies have changed and they hardly recognize themselves. Some women struggle with perimenopause and the realization that their childbearing years are officially over. Sounds rough to me. But Sparrowe doesn’t see it that way. She says the sixth decade brings opportunities for powerful, transformative experiences. If we enter into our 50s having taken care of ourselves, she says, we’re much more apt to weather the physical challenges and move into a stage of life in which we nurture others in a much larger context and find the confidence to speak our truths kindly and without apology.

See also Feel the Joy

This decade lines up with yogic philosophy’s third stage, vanaprastha, which focuses on contemplation, having less concern about material things, and solitude; it is also called the forest-dweller or retirement period (often marked by grandchildren).

On a physical and emotional level, yoga can help combat those pesky perimenopause symptoms—insomnia, hot flashes, fatigue, and anxiety. Specifically, forward bends, twists, and backbends can help pacify and then activate the adrenals. Baxter Bell, MD, author of Yoga for Healthy Aging: A Guide to Lifelong Well-Being, says that studies of longtime yoga practitioners and meditators also show calmer brainwave patterns, improvement in areas of the brain involved with cognitive decision-making and memory, and an improved ability to tune into the subtle messages of the body and respond to them more proactively than reactively. All of this is to say: Keep up your practice.

THE 60S AND BEYOND

For many people, their 60s, 70s, and 80s read like a litany of physical complaints: osteoporosis, heart disease, hip and knee pain. Sometimes the list seems endless. Of course, this time of life is so much more than that. In yogic philosophy, it is known as sannyasa: the time in which our attention moves deeper inward, toward union with the divine. Many retire, begin to let go of their possessions, and choose to spend more time in contemplation and in service to others. This sense of freedom can bring with it an almost childlike energy, an added layer of wisdom born from a lifetime of experiences.

Alan Castel, a professor in the Department of Psychology at UCLA, whose own research focuses on human memory, cognition, and cognitive aging, suggests that there could be a biological reason why the elder years sit at the top of the U curve. As we age, our brains actually latch onto and recall positive things more than negative ones, says Castel, author of Better with Age: The Psychology of Successful Aging. This is called the “positivity bias.” Castel references a study by Laura Carstensen that demonstrates if you show people two faces, one happy and one sad, younger people focus more on the sad face, whereas older people spend more time looking at the happy face.

See also Create a Life You Love

“This can influence memory—and mood. If you focus on positive things, those are the things you’re more likely to remember,” Castel says. Plus, even though your memory declines with age, your memory selectivity improves; you get better at focusing on the things that are important to you, Castel says.

To find balance at this stage—or really any stage—and to feel more connected to yourself and others, Quistgard recommends spending more time in nature, living with the natural circadian rhythm (waking with the sunrise, winding down with the sunset), and serving others. Do yoga, sit in meditation, and laugh as often as possible. Reach out to others, practice together, connect, mentor, and support one another.

“YOU NEED TO BE ABLE TO SURRENDER AND TO KNOW THAT YOU’RE SUPPORTED IN ORDER TO BE ABLE TO REALLY BE CONTENT.”

Happiness at Every Age

Of course, just because you practice yoga, chant mantras, or breathe rhythmically doesn’t guarantee your happiness, says yoga teacher Christi Sullivan. “If you go into [your practice] with the expectation that happiness and joy will be sprinkled on you like fairy dust, you’ll never find it,” she says.

“It’s not finding the feeling. It’s feeling the feeling that is already there,” she says. “If you wonder why life has lost its magic, it’s because we stopped showing up inside and were looking for it on the outside.”

See also 6-Step Meditation to Invoke Joy

So how do we get the magic back? By approaching our life with devotion and gratitude, without trying to “get something out of it,” says yoga nidra teacher Stanley. If you assign an expectation to an action (like “On a scale of 1 to 10, how happy do I want to be when I’m done?”), it changes the experience. “If you’re looking for it, it’s not going to happen,” she says, because your mind is too busy thinking. “You need to be able to surrender and to know that you’re supported in order to be able to really be content.”

This ties back into Killingsworth’s research about presence. While he was a doctoral student at Harvard, Killingsworth developed an app to track happiness and found that a wandering mind is an unhappy mind, even if you’re fantasizing about the good ol’ days or better days to come. He discovered that people are happiest when they stay in the moment.

Right here. Right now.

Even if you’re in an unpleasant situation, like a traffic jam, or say, I don’t know, freshly 40 with a U curve stacked against you.

See also A Meditation Practice To Let In Joy + Happiness

About the author

Aimee Heckel is a writer in Boulder, Colorado. Learn more at aimeeheckel.com

[cedarrrun]

Yogis and scholars explain how to stay present and embrace what each decade brings your way.

I turned 40 last May, and I’m apparently about to tumble into years of despair. Because, according to friends and colleagues who hit that milestone a few years before I did (not to mention researchers), my “midlife crisis” is right around the corner. But I don’t buy it. Sure, I need at least an hour of meditation with one sock on, one sock off (no joke) and 1.5 (no more, no less) cups of Sleepytime tea to fall asleep, but that’s hardly what I’d call a crisis.

Jonathan Rauch, award-winning journalist and author of The Happiness Curve: Why Life Gets Better After 50 also rejects the idea of a midlife crisis, a term coined back in 1965 by psychologist Elliott Jaques. He prefers to call it a slump or, on perhaps less optimistic days, a “constant drizzle of disappointment.” Still pretty bleak sounding if you ask me.

Multiple studies of adults in countries around the world show a U shape on the happiness scale as we age. In fact, according to Rauch, “it turns up so frequently and in so many places that many happiness researchers take it for granted.” The U shape suggests that people feel good in their 20s, then get a bit more miserable in their 30s—until everything bottoms out in the fifth decade. In fact, according to a new study by Dartmouth professor David Blanchflower that examined trends in 132 countries, life’s “peak time for misery” happens around age 47. Ouch. Maybe that’s why my friends would rather say they’re celebrating the 20th anniversary of their 20th birthday than proudly own the Big 4-0.

See also Find the Happiness Within You

There is good news, however. Studies by Blanchflower and British researcher Andrew Oswald bear that out. Their findings suggest that well-being “declines steadily (apart from a blip around the mid-20s) until approximately 50; it then rises in a hill-like way up to the age of 70; after that it declines slightly until the age of 90.” Happiness deepens as we age, like a fine wine. But until then—what? Those of us in our 40s are destined to mope around and bide our time until we can get a senior discount? No thank you. Fortunately, University of Pennsylvania researcher Matt Killingsworth has a different point of view. He found that happiness is tied to being present—not fretting about the past or even lusting after retirement.

I decided to set off to find a way to make it through this quote unquote low point without entering crisis mode. There has to be a way to be happy—no matter what the trends suggest—at any age.

“THERE HAS TO BE A WAY TO BE HAPPY—NO MATTER WHAT THE TRENDS SUGGEST—AT ANY AGE.”

What Is Happiness, Anyway?

Clearly, how a person defines happiness affects their perception of it—and there are myriad definitions to consider, from ancient traditions to modern scholarly ones. In the yoga world, for example, there are at least four types of happiness. Santosha (contentment) implies a sense of delight; being content with what you have, who you are, and where you are in this moment. We’re happiest when we’re not wishing we were better, richer, kinder, or any other kind of different. Sukha (ease or, literally, a good space) is the comfort or sweetness we feel, even in the midst of confusion or turbulent times. For some people, mudita (sympathetic joy) is the hardest of all. It asks us to be joyful for those who are happiest; to be happy for the good fortune of others—even if they have what we wish we had. We experience ananda, the state of being blissfully happy, when we stop trying to find happiness and simply experience it. Yogic scholar Georg Feuerstein once wrote that ananda is “what we experience when our whole body radiates with joyous energy and we feel like embracing everyone and everything.” The Dalai Lama himself says that happiness is mainly having “a sense of deep satisfaction.” All of these definitions are, in the words of Killingsworth, “tied to being present.”

Rauch went with a more scholarly definition in his book. He breaks happiness down into two categories: affective well-being (how you feel today, how often you smile) and evaluative well-being (how you assess your life as a whole). His research looked at the latter: “You might not feel happy today, but you still feel your life is fulfilling and rewarding,” Rauch says.

See also 5 Happiness Boosting Poses

Although Rauch is a fan of the U curve, which he contends “has been pretty stable over time,” he also believes there will always be outliers. And even within the same shape, he says, the details of the curve, such as where it bends and at what age, vary by country, suggesting there could be some social impact to our well-being.

How to Be Happy at Every Age

Even if research shows happiness commonly dips in middle age, that doesn’t mean we can’t be happy at any age.

Linda Sparrowe, co-author of The Woman’s Book of Yoga and Health: A Lifelong Guide to Wellness (with Patricia Walden), believes that each stage of life has its high points on the happiness scale and, alas, its low points, too. Yoga and certain mindful lifestyle practices can maximize the pinnacles and minimize the troughs, she says. While the stages she writes about are fluid—adolescence moving into our 20s; early 40s holding fast to the 30s, the late 40s having more in common with the early 50s, and so forth—Sparrowe agrees that each decade brings something unique to our growth.

See also How to Train Your Brain for Happiness

Ayurvedic practitioner and yoga teacher trainer Niika Quistgard encourages people to look at doshic patterns as a general map, not an unbreakable fact. “There are generalizations that can help us take a closer look and see if they’re true for us at the time, but we can’t just boilerplate everyone,” Quistgard says. “Life is more complex than that.”

With that in mind, let’s examine the ups and downs—the gifts and challenges—each decade may bring.

THE 20S

Anyone who has navigated the rough waters of puberty knows how amazing it can feel to move past insecurities, erratic hormones, and conflicting messages from family, friends, and the media that threaten a person’s sense of self. No wonder the 20s are thought to be at the top of the happiness curve. Sure, there are still moments of doubt, as young people struggle to feel less awkward and more grounded—to become more independent, to find their voices, and to embrace both their vulnerabilities and their strengths. There are still times of falling down and getting back up and falling down again. That’s all part of what makes this the decade of “becoming.”

My 20s were a wild roller coaster, tearing through the social constructs that had limited my youth. I hit rock bottom, at one point living in my car after I left a dysfunctional relationship. But that was when I finally began to discover my true self and separate from my family, controlling partners, and trauma from my past. I had nothing, yet I had independence, and that was everything.

My 20s were challenging, but there really is no better time to try things on for size—to play with new ways of showing up in the world—and to explore new places, ideas, and relationships. Yogic philosophy calls this stage brahmacharya, or the student phase, which centers around learning, playing, and finding mentors.

See also 5 Ways to Boost Happiness

Yoga plays an important role in this time of awakening. A physical yoga practice—standing poses, arm balances, backbends and forward bends—can be stabilizing and strengthening, both for the body and for the emotions, and help to build self-confidence off the mat, too.

THE 30S

After a decade (or more) of self-inquiry and investigation, the 30s arrive, bringing a shift in focus from the inner to the outer world. Suddenly you are coming into your own, and you are ready to show the world your fabulousness. You are more outward-facing, establishing yourself in the workplace, creating new ideas, setting down roots, taking care of others, and perhaps starting a family. I got married and gave birth to my daughter when I was 30, and it completely transformed my life. At the same time, I was building my career as a travel writer—it was hectic, but I loved it. Yogic philosophy calls this period grihastha, or the householder period, a time of adventure, family, and enterprise during adulthood.

The challenge, of course, is you run the risk of losing yourself in the process, not making time to take care of your own physical and emotional needs. Sparrowe warns that when we move into this decade, we straddle “a fine line between being present in the world and being swallowed up by that world.” These are heated, ambitious, passionate years, influenced by the fiery pitta dosha, says Ayurvedic practitioner Quistgard.

See also Path to Happiness: 9 Interpretations of the Yamas + Niyamas

So, it’s important to stay balanced as much as possible. Otherwise, your creative, no-time-to-lose energy becomes more frantic, until you run the risk of chronic stress and burnout.

Committing to a regular yoga practice can bring your focus inward, which will help to calm and reset a young-adult nervous system. It worked for me. I didn’t really embrace a regular yoga and meditation practice until my 30s, and then it was out of necessity. I needed it as a way to create an intentional separation between my deadline-driven work life and my home life; I needed to learn how to truly finish something before I started something else—not just in a physical sense, but in my mind as well. A consistent home practice—even for 10 minutes a day—can give you a respite from all the responsibilities you shoulder (at work or at home), help you refuel, and put things back into perspective. Put your legs up the wall when you get home; listen to soothing music; do several rounds of pranayama (Nadi Shodhana is particularly balancing); go for a walk. And then, move into your non-work time with your full attention and joy.

THE 40S

When author Rauch hit his 40s, he was dissatisfied despite his achievements and wanted to know why.

So he did what any self-respecting journalist would do: He interviewed experts in psychology, neuroscience, economics, and sociology to help make sense of what was going on. He also conducted what he called an “unscientific survey” of approximately 300 ordinary people about their lives, he told me.

The results, which he describes in his book, led him to understand that our 40s are a decade of transition and a certain amount of upheaval. Our priorities—in other words, the things that relate to our sense of evaluative well-being—tend to change over time. We typically value competition, ambition, and achievement in our 20s, 30s, and early 40s, but as we move deeper into our fifth decade, we may start to question whether we’ve achieved our goals, whether we’ve done enough, and—even more fraught—whether we still matter. At the same time, Rauch says, “We’re beginning to shift our values toward caring, cooperation, and community,” which can feel confusing. Not to worry, he says. “If you hit a slump in your 40s, know it’s temporary and you have a lot to look forward to. Anyone who says, ‘If you haven’t made it by your 50s, you’re finished’ has it exactly backward.”

See also Bringing Happiness Home

Meditation and yoga nidra teacher Tracee Stanley encourages people to embrace the transitions in their lives, welcoming them as portals to redefine and rediscover at a deeper level what happiness truly means. “A lot of times in life when there’s a transition, there’s also a vacuum.

A void. The most powerful place to put your intention is in a void,” Stanley says. “In a transition, if we can stay awake and aware, that’s where power is.” Stanley recommends yoga nidra (yogic sleep) during this time, which she calls a deeply “immersive experience of self-inquiry and deep rest” that can increase your intuition and bring more clarity to your purpose—all of which will serve you well as you move into your later years.

THE 50S

Even though Rauch says we have a lot to look forward to in our 50s, sometimes that’s not immediately apparent. Entering a new era, some people complain that they feel invisible, irrelevant, or kind of “in the way” in a culture obsessed with youth. Some grumble that their bodies have changed and they hardly recognize themselves. Some women struggle with perimenopause and the realization that their childbearing years are officially over. Sounds rough to me. But Sparrowe doesn’t see it that way. She says the sixth decade brings opportunities for powerful, transformative experiences. If we enter into our 50s having taken care of ourselves, she says, we’re much more apt to weather the physical challenges and move into a stage of life in which we nurture others in a much larger context and find the confidence to speak our truths kindly and without apology.

See also Feel the Joy

This decade lines up with yogic philosophy’s third stage, vanaprastha, which focuses on contemplation, having less concern about material things, and solitude; it is also called the forest-dweller or retirement period (often marked by grandchildren).

On a physical and emotional level, yoga can help combat those pesky perimenopause symptoms—insomnia, hot flashes, fatigue, and anxiety. Specifically, forward bends, twists, and backbends can help pacify and then activate the adrenals. Baxter Bell, MD, author of Yoga for Healthy Aging: A Guide to Lifelong Well-Being, says that studies of longtime yoga practitioners and meditators also show calmer brainwave patterns, improvement in areas of the brain involved with cognitive decision-making and memory, and an improved ability to tune into the subtle messages of the body and respond to them more proactively than reactively. All of this is to say: Keep up your practice.

THE 60S AND BEYOND

For many people, their 60s, 70s, and 80s read like a litany of physical complaints: osteoporosis, heart disease, hip and knee pain. Sometimes the list seems endless. Of course, this time of life is so much more than that. In yogic philosophy, it is known as sannyasa: the time in which our attention moves deeper inward, toward union with the divine. Many retire, begin to let go of their possessions, and choose to spend more time in contemplation and in service to others. This sense of freedom can bring with it an almost childlike energy, an added layer of wisdom born from a lifetime of experiences.

Alan Castel, a professor in the Department of Psychology at UCLA, whose own research focuses on human memory, cognition, and cognitive aging, suggests that there could be a biological reason why the elder years sit at the top of the U curve. As we age, our brains actually latch onto and recall positive things more than negative ones, says Castel, author of Better with Age: The Psychology of Successful Aging. This is called the “positivity bias.” Castel references a study by Laura Carstensen that demonstrates if you show people two faces, one happy and one sad, younger people focus more on the sad face, whereas older people spend more time looking at the happy face.

See also Create a Life You Love

“This can influence memory—and mood. If you focus on positive things, those are the things you’re more likely to remember,” Castel says. Plus, even though your memory declines with age, your memory selectivity improves; you get better at focusing on the things that are important to you, Castel says.

To find balance at this stage—or really any stage—and to feel more connected to yourself and others, Quistgard recommends spending more time in nature, living with the natural circadian rhythm (waking with the sunrise, winding down with the sunset), and serving others. Do yoga, sit in meditation, and laugh as often as possible. Reach out to others, practice together, connect, mentor, and support one another.

“YOU NEED TO BE ABLE TO SURRENDER AND TO KNOW THAT YOU’RE SUPPORTED IN ORDER TO BE ABLE TO REALLY BE CONTENT.”

Happiness at Every Age

Of course, just because you practice yoga, chant mantras, or breathe rhythmically doesn’t guarantee your happiness, says yoga teacher Christi Sullivan. “If you go into [your practice] with the expectation that happiness and joy will be sprinkled on you like fairy dust, you’ll never find it,” she says.

“It’s not finding the feeling. It’s feeling the feeling that is already there,” she says. “If you wonder why life has lost its magic, it’s because we stopped showing up inside and were looking for it on the outside.”

See also 6-Step Meditation to Invoke Joy

So how do we get the magic back? By approaching our life with devotion and gratitude, without trying to “get something out of it,” says yoga nidra teacher Stanley. If you assign an expectation to an action (like “On a scale of 1 to 10, how happy do I want to be when I’m done?”), it changes the experience. “If you’re looking for it, it’s not going to happen,” she says, because your mind is too busy thinking. “You need to be able to surrender and to know that you’re supported in order to be able to really be content.”

This ties back into Killingsworth’s research about presence. While he was a doctoral student at Harvard, Killingsworth developed an app to track happiness and found that a wandering mind is an unhappy mind, even if you’re fantasizing about the good ol’ days or better days to come. He discovered that people are happiest when they stay in the moment.

Right here. Right now.

Even if you’re in an unpleasant situation, like a traffic jam, or say, I don’t know, freshly 40 with a U curve stacked against you.

See also A Meditation Practice To Let In Joy + Happiness

About the author

Aimee Heckel is a writer in Boulder, Colorado. Learn more at aimeeheckel.com