#i do however love the fact that they found respite within each other and gave each other opportunities to be kids

[innovativestruggles]

Yuta & Rika - a speculative analysis

Like with basically any fandom out there, I'm about 3 years late with JJK 0 😩 Regardless, I finally watched it yesterday and subsequently really, really needed to discuss this topic before I forget.

As an anime only fan, I only heard of Yuta from bits and pieces in the anime and from the fandom. That would go for Rika too so I never really understood the extent of their relationship until I watched JJK 0. But oh man, when I watched it, these two took my entire heart and soul.

And whilst I do get why Yuta is shipped with Maki or Inumaki, Rika wins it for me. And before I jump into my explanation, I want to say it outright - Yuta and Rika gives me strong Obito and Rin vibes 😳

Anyways let's talk about Rika.

This sweet yet psycho girl is a super side character (much like Rin), but I did a bit more research into her and it explained so so much more about her character and why she is the way she is (both as human and cursed spirit). Rika lost her mother unexpectedly at the age of 5 and then her father during a hiking trip together at the age of 11. There are speculations (by paternal grandmother) that she is involved in the death of both her parents. I cannot say too much about whether a 5 year old would have too much influence over their mother, but I will shelve this for now. I want to focus on Rika and her father. There is an explanation that one of Rika's biggest dislikes is older men. Let me tell you this - an 11 year old child with an adverse dislike for a specific portion of the population (older men) points towards one thing - abuse. This is an educated guess on my end (and if I was given a case in real life about this, I would come to this hypothesis as well), but the trauma Rika endured shaped her personality and how she would end up attaching herself to Yuta. We don't know exactly what sort of trauma Rika went through, but my guess is some form of physical or sexual abuse. The development of a 'manipulative' personality towards adults is a form of a survival mechanism developed to keep herself safe. Rika's father most likely had a role in her abuse and hence the mystery of his disappearance (and how it alluded to the fact that Rika had something to do with it, together with the explanation of her manipulative personality).

Let's come back to Rika's mother. There are two theories/hypothesis to this.

A 5 year would have enough cognitive capacity to understand that they are in an unsafe situation. However, it is unclear whether Rika's mother had any involvement in Rika's abuse. But what I presume is that she did not have a close relationship with her mother. The reason? She gave her mother's wedding ring to Yuta. A child impacted by abuse by one parent and not the other means they would naturally be attached to the safe parent, so anything sentimental attached to the safe parent would give the child a sense of safety. To give something special away like her mother's ring means her mother meant very little to her, so Rika decided to re-symobilise the ring into something new - something for Yuta. And because an 11 year old most likely cannot afford a ring

The second theory would be that Rika had a close and safe relationship with her mother, and the giving away of the ring to Yuta symbolises the safety and security she finds in him. I.e. the element of safety and security she found in her mother has been transferred to Yuta (via the giving of the ring).

Regardless of what theory we go with, there is too little information regarding Rika's relationship with her mother. We don't know what happened to her mother, whether she died of natural causes or was murdered. But all we know is that Rika most likely endured severe abuse by her father (that may or may not involve other older men).

Looking into Rika's personality. Her proposal to Yuta is a dead giveaway of her need to locate a safe space. Yuta is Rika's safety net. They met at a time where both were quite vulnerable - Yuta being unwell and Rika having returned from a mountain climb where her father went missing. Rika's proposal is an indicator of her need for a new life, the idea of marriage is to be permanently attached to her safety net and to have Yuta take her away from whatever she experienced. Of course, 11 year old children do have a basic idea of what marriage is, but it seems like Rika has more of an underlying idea of what she would like to utilise the marriage concept for - that is, to escape and re-establish her safety within the one person she loves and trusts. This explains her personality as a cursed spirit - jealous, overprotective, intense, emotional and childish. Through trauma, Rika learnt ways to ensure she is kept safe emotionally, psychologically and physically. She is always having to survive day by day until she is finally able to manipulate her father out of her life (again this seems a likely scenario, given the very little info readers are provided). When the one person (Yuta) who comes into her life finally allows her to be a child - to play, to have fun and give her the life she should have been having, naturally Rika would be overprotective of Yuta. As I mentioned, Yuta is her safety net, and to have him taken away (by bullies, by another love interest etc), is the decimation of Rika's own safety.

We were given only very small snippets into Rika's life and what she was like as a human. But her personality carried over into her cursed spirit form, and the basic information provided in the character profile, are both more than enough to deduce that Rika's background is incredibly complex with multiple layers of trauma.

One really big thing I would like to point out is Rika's comment before she moved into the afterlife - she was happier accompanying Yuta as a cursed spirit than when she was alive. This is another important piece of information that showed Rika most likely experienced a significant amount of trauma as a human. What would force an 11 year old child to come to such conclusions? The only answer is abuse. As a cursed spirit, Rika is able to escape everything and be by Yuta's side (almost like the prospect of marriage - "take me away from all this and let me be by your side forever")

For Yuta, I can't speak too much about him because his background as a child is essentially a mystery. Not sure about his parents and how he grew up. But judging from his bond and connection with Rika, I presume he grew up quite lonely and friendless. Whether there was trauma, I don't know but it did mention he had to distant himself from his family when Rika became a cursed spirit. Regardless, Yuta's acceptance of her proposal and his happiness at the prospect of being together forever with her as they grow older indicates to me that Yuta may have some complexities in his childhood we don't know about. But it could just be that he genuinely had a normal childhood and Rika was the one and only person outside his family he connected with. However, we don't know whether his timid nature occurred before he met Rika or after she became a cursed spirit. There are too many unexplained parts with Yuta. Anyways, we know Yuta loved Rika immensely (as much as Rika loved him), and his refusing to accept her death is an indicator of his feelings towards her. Their love for each other is pure and innocent because they allowed each other to live in safety and to be children.

And even after releasing her spirit, Yuuta still held onto remnants of Rika. I do love the idea of Yuta being able to move on and give himself to someone else, but I feel Yuta has a lot more unprocessed emotions regarding intimacy - that though he freed Rika, he seems forever bounded by being with her and only her.

So here's my conclusion for this pairing - their background and their pure love is what really made me love them so much. Does all this sound very Obito x Rin to you? Whilst Yuta is able to bounce back from the grief with the help of a mentor and friends, Obito never did. But they both shared an immense amount of grief from the loss of their loved one at an early age.

And yes, I seem to love my tragic rare pairs...dear oh dear.

Anyways, these are all speculations based on canon materials. So if you have any interesting hypothesis, I'd love to hear it!

[gainerstories]

Professor Plump

*UNLOCKED*

As a big fat thank you to everyone who has supported this blog and enjoyed my stories, I am unlocking one of my favorite stories off Patreon. This has been a rough year for everyone and y’all enjoy a little treat. Of course, if you want more (20+ more fattening stories in fact) you know where to go. Enjoy. 

As much as Robert Daniels loved being a professor, he woke up full of dread on the first day of fall semester. At 28 he was the youngest tenure track faculty in his department and he often felt that all eyes were on him. His first academic year had been rough, exhausting, and tiresome and he wasn’t ready to get back in the game. He just wanted his beautifully sunny and lazy summer vacation to last one or two more months.

As he sat up in bed his belly spilled forward pushing down his morning wood. There was no doubt he’d gained quite a bit of pudge in the last few months. It didn’t bother him, however, as most of his colleagues were plump and he viewed extra weight as a sign of contentment and maturity. During the school year he had actually lost weight from stress and being overworked. His new, rounder form lent a sense of satisfaction.

As Robert stumbled out of bed and into the bathroom to shower he took a close look at himself. He’d be turning 29 soon and was finally starting to look like a man. His face had grown scruffy and his chest hair finally bloomed across his pecs and down to his puffy stomach. The thirty pounds of fat that clung to his belly also gave him a more mature look. He was now firmly within “dad bod” territory and wore that badge with pride. He scooped his fat up with both his hands and gave it a hearty jiggle. He wondered if anyone on campus would comment on his somewhat weight gain.

Turning around, Robert examined his rear which was now fluffy and dimpled with cellulite. He noticed that even his ass had grown a bit hairier along with a small patch of fuzz on his lower back, framed between two bulging love handles. He could recall seeing the same patch on his father and wondering if the same was in store for himself. This memory cemented his perceived transition into manhood.

Robert’s thighs had also thickened up a bit and now touched when he was standing straight. He rubbed his thighs and gave them a slap, admiring how they bounced. Lately, he had no choice but to manspread when he sat down. Crossing his legs was a thing of the past. The added weight on his lower half gave him a sense of groundedness. All around the extra pudge made him feel strong and unshakable, despite jiggling quite a lot when he actually did shake.

Most of this excess poundage had been accrued during a month long cruise down Central America. Robert had spent almost every single day getting tipsy on fruity blended drinks and satisfying his drunchies from dusk ‘til dawn at the buffet. Carbs became his best friend, soaking up the sugary alcoholic concoctions he guzzled during the day. Altogether, cruise life was a much needed respite from the long nights of grading papers and doing research during the academic year.

His salary did not allow him to indulge in fancy foods very often, and so this cruise was an opportunity to go hog wild. He made a conscious decision to eat and live like a king. As a result, he began to notice his body expanding only midway through the trip. It seemed as though out of nowhere he had grown a squishy paunch that jutted out behind his shirts. By the end of the vacation he was even larger, noticing fat accumulating all over his body.

As he stood in front of his bathroom mirror, Robert found himself particularly fascinated by the small white stretch marks that had formed at the top of his inner thighs. He traced his fingers over their subtle indentations. He hadn’t seen fresh stretch marks since puberty when his shoulders expanded overnight one summer. He was shocked to see the same thing happen simply from overeating on a long vacation.

Plump, tan, and satisfied, Robert stepped into the shower with vigor and began to get ready for his first day back to work. He trimmed his wild scruff back to a presentable shadow and styled his hair. He then slipped into underwear that clung more than usual to his meaty rump and resultantly compressed his bulge more than usual. He would have to remember to buy some new pairs. T-shirts had also grown a bit snug but this was not a huge concern for they would be hidden behind a button up. What he hadn’t considered was that his button ups from last year would also struggle to fit around his new body.

Robert sucked in his gut while doing each button. He let his stomach spill forward and was shocked at just how much the shirt did not fit. Scrambling through his closet he found the loosest button up he owned and put it on. It was still snug and would definitely be strained when he sat down, but it would have to suffice. Next, he slid into his stretchiest pair of chinos and was instantly filled with anxiety.

The fabric clung to his thighs and ass leaving little to the imagination. This would have been tolerable except for the fact that the waistband would not button no matter how hard he tried. With no other option, Robert scrounged a safety pin from the utility drawer and fastened the pants closed. Donning one of his bulkier belts he hoped no one would notice he’d outgrown his pants.

His day commenced with a faculty meeting catered with coffee and pastries. Although he had eaten a breakfast sandwich immediately upon getting to campus, he grabbed a healthy looking danish for the meeting. It was dry and mediocre as campus food tended to be, but that didn’t stop him from inhaling it within minutes. A few of his colleagues eyed his bulging waistline although no one made a comment.

Midway through the two hour meeting Robert found that his stomach was already growling to be fed. With no other choice, he would have to eat another Danish despite the fact he would be the only one going for seconds. He stood to grab one more danish and as he sat down he heard the unmistakable noise of a seam busting. Praying no one else heard, he subtly reached down to his thighs where a small hole had formed.

After the meeting he headed straight to the bathroom to examine the damage. It wasn’t too bad, maybe just an inch or so large. Plus, his underwear matched his pants so it was barely noticeable. He figured he could get through the day without anyone noticing. Although no one noticed the tear in his pants, his students were fully aware of his newfound growth.

“Mr. Daniels lookin’ THICK,” someone commented before his first class began.

Robert ignored the comment and got on with his lecture. Still, in the back of his head he worried about his appearance and snug outfit. There was no question he would be investing in some new work clothes. By the end of the class he was hungry once again. At least it was lunch time, so he felt justified in heading to the student union for a big meal. He grabbed a massive burrito, chips and guac, a cookie, and large soda which he brought back to his desk.

Such a filling lunch was exactly what he needed. The food was comforting and satisfying, giving the plump professor a sense of peace. After scarfing it all down he leaned back in his chair and sighed. Just as he did so two buttons on his shirt went shooting across the room. “Fuck,” he said aloud to himself and went searching for the buttons so he could sew them back on. As he knelt on his hands and knees he felt the contents of his belly slosh forward and the seam of his pants rip even further.

Eventually, he found the missing buttons and broke out the sewing kit to get them back on. By the time he was finished stitching himself back into his clothes, there was someone knocking at his door. He’d forgotten about office hours. In a mad rush he cleaned the food wrappers off his desk and greeted the student. As he sat back down at his desk the same two buttons snapped back off and shot under his desk. Although the student overtly stared at Robert’s bulging gut, filled to the brim with his fattening lunch, neither of them acknowledged the embarrassment.

After the student left, Robert took off the button up and slipped his spare sport coat over his tee. The tee was more than a little snug and definitely didn’t hide much- the indentation of his belly button was fully visible- but it would have to do. After a constant stream of students over the course of an hour Robert rushed to his next class. The lecture left Robert feeling exhausted and tired. It was evening and he had grown peckish again, so he decided to grab a bite to eat before he had a meeting with the dean and could go home.

Hawaiian barbecue sounded like a good idea when he ordered it. However, after gobbling up every last morsel, the young professor felt uncomfortably full and bloated. He yearned for to return to the cruise ship where he could take a long nap after overindulging, but instead he sluggishly headed to the dean’s office. His belly had swelled considerably with the Hawaiian food and he found himself having to stretch the hem of his shirt down to ensure his gut was fully concealed.

Once inside, Robert cautiously took a seat in one of the rickety old chairs in the waiting room for the dean. After a few seconds he felt a snap underneath his ass as the seat of the chair gave way. Trying to be as subtle as possible, Robert cautiously lifted himself from the broken chair and casually examined a painting on the wall until the dean greeted him.

Once inside, the dean offered him a home baked muffin that his wife had made. Robert tried to refuse at first but the dean pushed it on him. He began pecking at the muffin and realized it was indeed quite moist and delicious. He polished it off in a couple minutes and resisted licking his fingers. By the end of the meeting the dean persuaded Robert to take one more muffin for the road. Without a second thought, Robert greedily snatched the biggest muffin of the bunch.

As he walked through the campus at night, illuminated by lanterns, Robert gobbled up the muffin while reflecting on the fact that he was in desperate need of a new wardrobe. His belly was stuffed to capacity and the sheer weight of it bulging out in front of him forced Robert to walk slow and steady with his shoulders back and hips forward. Freed from his constricting button up, his rounded gut peeked out from behind the sport coat and wobbled back and forth with each step to his car.

The walk seemed longer than usual, likely because he was slower than usual. Somewhat winded, Robert couldn’t wait to sit down as he opened the door to his hatchback. However, as he did so, a booming snap assaulted his ears and he felt his belly spill forward into his lap. Robert’s belt had completely snapped in half while the thigh of his pants simultaneously split all the way open from knee to crotch. His girth was simply too much to contain.

At least it happened at the end of the day, he told himself.

[americasass81]

Because You Loved Me

Warnings:- Mentions of Surgery, Mental and Emotional Exhaustion, Very Brief Mention of Drugging, Fluff, M & F Smut (more implied than outright described).  Do not read if any of these warnings are upsetting.  Feedback is welcomed.

By proceeding you are acknowledging that you are over 18 and are consenting to the content below the cut.

Synopsis:- Feeling low from the grind of daily life, your man tries his best to bring a little light back to your life.

A/N:- Though not a sequel, in my mind this can take place in the same AU as my other Brock fic, Peeling Back The Layers.  Yet both can be read independently of each other.  Written with @saiyanprincessswanie in mind but at the same time it is still a pretty generic pile of fluff.  Hope you like Missy.

Word Count:- 3,165

You were exhausted . . . mentally, emotionally, physically.  You ached deep down in places you never knew you could and the more you thought about it, the more exhausted you became.  As the night's respite gave way to morning's light, your first thought always seemed to be 'how do I face another day?'  Yet somehow you always found a way.  Despite the knocks life kept sending your way and the weariness weighing down your soul, you were at heart a positive person and was determined to embrace the good things in life no matter how hard that may be.

With that thought in your head, you dragged your feet out of bed and making your way to the bathroom, used the facilities and showered under the warm, refreshing water before returning to your bedroom to get ready for the day ahead.  Heading to the kitchen to make a quick breakfast you ate in silence as you waited for Brock to show up.  Thinking back on the almost six months since that fateful day he came to your rescue, it had been one adventure after another.

Despite all your health issues and the unpleasant grind of daily life, this gruff looking man had become a balm for your slowly fracturing soul.  Taking you places you never thought you'd see, while telling you he loved you every chance he got, you still wondered what you had done in this life or any other to deserve him.

Finishing up your food, you deposited the bowl in the sink and thought about what you might do for the day, but found you couldn't really find the motivation.  Instead, taking the latest mystery novel you were reading, you headed out to the back garden to hopefully relax and catch up on another chapter.  Getting a few pages in however, you suddenly dropped the book in your lap as tears inexplicably cascaded down your cheeks.

Feeling lower than you had in a really long time, you were shocked to open your eyes to discover yourself nestled against a strong chest as two powerful arms wrapped around you.  "My love, why do these tears stain your beautiful cheeks?" Brock asked and you had to smile a bit at the fact that what should have sounded cheesy actually sounded sweet.  "I hate seeing you like this," he added before you could answer, "please tell me what's wrong."

Looking at the man who had come to mean so much to you in such a short space of time, you snuggled deeper into his chest as you thought about all the negative thoughts weighing on your soul.  Looking up at him eventually as he waited patiently for you to speak, you took a deep breath and thought carefully about what you wanted to say.

"I don't really know Brock, I guess I just feel like one raw, emotional nerve.  The world seems so full of needless hate, my upcoming surgery has me scared and exhausted and sometimes I don't know why you're here with me or what I even have to offer this world." you explained and it hurt him deeply that the girl who saw so much good in him and helped awaken and nurture it, was now questioning her own worth.

Taking time to dry your tears, this powerhouse of a man who never thought he would be worthy of anything waited until he was sure you had talked yourself out before speaking.  "Oh my love, please know that while your feelings are valid and you have every right to be exhausted, you are also a shining light in the darkest night."

Gazing down at you with more love than he ever thought he was capable of feeling, he bent forwards and kissed you tenderly, hoping to convey all the emotion his heart held for you.  Continuing to hold you a while longer, he soon found you fast asleep in his arms and so taking you inside, placed you lovingly on the bed before heading to the bathroom to clean up.  Looking at himself in the mirror he hoped with every fiber of his being he would be able to find his sweet, beautiful girl again and bring her home.

Returning to the bedroom to dress quickly and quietly, he placed a soft kiss against your forehead and whispered he loved you before heading to the living room to make good on his plan.  Knowing that you always put everyone before yourself and that you didn't like to put people out, he also knew that a break back in nature was just what you needed.  Arranging everything with an old friend, all he had to worry about now was moving you from a to b without you objecting.

Hearing you stirring around the bedroom some time later, he hurried in and told you that if you were feeling up to it he'd take you to your favorite restaurant, otherwise he'd happily cook for you and come up with some way to help you relax.  Looking at him like he'd suddenly grown two heads, you blurted out the question on your lips before you could stop yourself.  "Are you telling me you know how to cook?  Something other than tea and toast?"

Smirking at your cheek to cast aspersions on his cooking ability, he swiftly traversed the space between you and taking you gently in his arms, kissed you with a passion that all but took your breath away before speaking as he ran his hands along your back.  "How are you doing baby?  Did the rest help any bit?"

Sinking into his warm and loving embrace, you wondered what you had done right to end up with this loving and thoughtful man.  Sure some people still saw him as a gruff outsider, but to you he was your rock.  Someone you knew in the depths of your soul would gladly take on your suffering if it meant you got to live a life free of pain and worry.  Concerned by your non response, he moved a hand to your chin and cupping it gently, gazed into your ethereal features while he waited for you to find your voice.

"Yeah, some bit." you replied meekly, taking his hand and kissing his palm before bringing your fingers together.  "I don't know.  I just wish I could get away from it all for a while.  Somewhere the stress and worry of being me wouldn't follow.  Crazy right?"

"No baby," he said, walking both of you towards the bed before sitting down and placing you in his lap, "that's not crazy at all.  Your battery's probably running on empty.  What you need is a few days away from the world."

"Yeah right Brock and how can that happen?” you laughed, swatting him playfully on the arm.  “I have doctor's appointments out my ass and you have work commitments.  It's a nice dream, but that's all it is." you sighed, resting your head against his shoulder as he hummed some unknown song against your skin.  "By the way, did you mention something about food?" you asked suddenly and you both laughed as a very unladylike sound rumbled through your stomach.

"I did," Brock answered between snickers, "but something tells me even if I didn't, my girl needs rations."  Then releasing you and walking hand in hand to the kitchen he sat you down at the table and went about preparing a glorious meal.  Finally filling you up with wine, pasta and brownies from your favorite bakery, he coaxed you onto the couch with a good book while he began cleaning the kitchen and by the time he was finished you were once again fast asleep and he could begin implementing his plan.

Moving swiftly and stealthily around the house with the skill only someone in his previous profession could master, he packed a bag of essentials for each of you, threw them in the back seat and then lifting you gently, carried you to the car and secured you in place.  While he had thought about drugging you to make sure you slept through the drive, he knew you wouldn't appreciate that and so offered up a silent plea that you wouldn't wake until morning.  Then setting off into the night, he hoped the next few days would recharge your battery and reignite your dimming light.

🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼

Waking up the next morning to a warm body at your back, which had become the norm since Brock Rumlow entered your life, you worried you had actually lost your mind as you opened your eyes to be greeted by a room that wasn't your own.  Further cementing your out of body experience, you pulled back the covers to reveal that you were currently wearing your favorite comfy sleepwear when your last conscious memory was falling asleep on the couch after dinner.  Looking now between your surroundings and your boyfriend, you quickly realized some major shenanigans were at play and taking a pillow, proceeded to start whacking the sleeping giant beside you.

"Brock?  Hey Brock?  RUMLOW." you eventually shouted while bringing the pillow down with as much force as you could muster.  "What the hell is going on here?" you asked as he opened his eyes and stared up at you.

"Baby, keep it down.  It's still early." he whined, reaching out to pull you down gently against his waiting body.  Kissing every available inch of skin his lips could find, he carefully and easily rolled over you, removed your shorts as he rested between your legs and proceeded to eat you out twice until you were nothing more than a blissed out mess beneath him.  Then leaving the bed to retrieve a cloth, he cleaned you up while you questioned what was to be done with the prominent bulge hidden within his boxers.

"Don't worry your pretty little head about that baby.  This trip is all about helping you unwind.  Now how about we get up, have some breakfast and I can show you around?"

Agreeing half-heartedly as your eyes still lingered on his crotch, he promised he might let you cop a feel at some point.  Laughing at his crass choice of language, having just brought you to two of the most pleasurable orgasms you could ever remember experiencing, he helped you out of bed and handed you a duffle bag before reaching for what you could only assume was his own.  Pulling open the zipper, you were both surprised but not, when you discovered a few days worth of clothes inside.  Taking out some jeans and a t-shirt you dressed in time to see Brock put away his bag and reach out his hand for yours.

Opening up the bedroom door, he explained the bathroom connected to both the bedroom and the living room, while the kitchen made up the rest of the cottage.  Allowing you out the front door while he made a start on breakfast, you discovered the cottage called Daisy Grove, was aptly named given that the cottage was indeed surrounded on either end by the most beautiful patches of wild daisies you had ever seen.

Watching the birds flying and nestling in the trees all around you, you took a few tentative steps off the porch along the scrub lined path and relished the sound of twigs and leaves underfoot as nature sang as far as you could hear.  Totally engrossed in your own world, you were unaware of a keen set of eyes now following you from the door as Brock watched you slip away into a space that brought joy to your heart and a lightness to your spirit.

Hating to drag you away from the one thing that seemed to bring you peace, you turned back sharply towards the door as Brock called your name.  "Breakfast is ready, my love.  Perhaps after we've eaten I can introduce you to the treasures awaiting you out the back door.  Running carefully back to your man, you threw yourself into his strong arms and all but squealed as he picked you up and carried you inside.

Sitting you at the table as he plated up the food, he tried to eat as best he could as you juggled between eating your own breakfast and firing any question you could think of at him.  Enjoying how invested you were in the wonderful property you currently inhabited, you having to take a sip of juice as you nearly choked was enough of a risk for the former soldier.  "Baby please, I say this with the utmost respect, but shut up." he laughed as your breathing returned to normal and you playfully stuck out your tongue at him.  "I promise I'll answer any more questions you have once we finish eating."

Nodding in agreement, the rest of breakfast was eaten in silence until Brock got up to clear the table and your questions began again.  "Where did you find this place?  How long are we staying?  What is there to do around here?"  Oh that last question he answered with a smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye.

"What we're going to do here is everything and anything that calms your soul, warms your heart and makes your spirit soar.  In short, all the things you've done for me."  Smiling now as he took your hand and led you out the back, your eyes widened when you saw the river waiting before you.  Though totally unsure about the boat Brock pointed to, you placed your trust in him and was pleasantly surprised when a wonderful, relaxing day was had.

Treating you then to a wonderful dinner, the rest of the evening was spent relaxing in front of an open fire with a sappy romantic comedy before Brock carried your tired form back to bed, where allowing his cock to get reacquainted with your pussy, you once again had a gloriously peaceful sleep.

🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼

Facing the world anew at sunrise, the next few days were everything Brock had promised and you couldn't remember when you last felt so well rested.  Feeling so carefree at this moment in your life as a result of the routine your wonderful man had set up, waking you up every morning with his mouth attached to your pussy, your days were then spent leisurely walking through the surrounding area, enjoying boating and Brock fishing on the river along with foot rubs, reading or watching various rom coms.

Then once he had you properly fed on spaghetti with wine and brownies or steak with baked potato and chocolate chip cookies after, he would ensure that one way or another your world was rocked before sleep claimed you.  You even remembered the fun that was had on your last day when Brock had tried unsuccessfully to get you to eat some of the fish the river had provided.

Telling him in no uncertain terms that you would not eat anything you had watched him kill while in the middle of baking brownies and cookies together, half an hour later as a glorious smell filled the cottage and Brock's solid shaft filled your pussy, you finally discovered the real fun that could be had baking together.

When he finally had you satisfied and removed the delicious treats out of the oven, Brock informed you he was going to do a quick sweep of the property before you left in the morning.  Snuggling into the couch with a good book, that was exactly where Brock found you an hour later when he finally returned to the cottage.  "Hey baby, you still where I left you?" Brock called out as he closed the door behind him.

Looking into the living room before you had a chance to answer, he was indeed rewarded with you stretched on the couch bathed in the glow of the firelight.  Swearing that he had never in his life seen anything so heavenly, he sauntered into your presence with a sly smirk on his face and his hands hidden behind his back.  "Hey Brock, you were gone quite a bit.  Is everything alright?"

"Everything's perfect baby.  Everything's tied up or put away as it should be, I just had to pick up something for you," and he couldn't hide the grin that graced his features as you suddenly sat up eager to see what he had for you.  "Now keep in mind it's nothing fancy, but it made me smile and think of you." he continued and with that he produced a beautifully woven circle of daisies.

Looking at him as he sat down beside you and placed it over your head, your eyes then fell on the flowers before speaking.  "It's beautiful Brock, but what is it?"

"It's a daisy chain baby.  Stronger than shackles and chains, it ties you to me forever.  Just like mine ties me to you," and with that he removed the t-shirt to reveal the chest you just now realized he had strategically kept covered since before this trip began.  The reason for this soon seared itself into your memory, when there above his heart was a tattoo of the same daisy chain you now wore, but in its center nestled your name.  Trailing his lips along your neck as they made their way towards your ear, his next words brought you to tears.  “Forgive my lips.” he whispered between pecks.  “They find joy . . . in the most unusual places.”

"Oh my god Brock, you are such a dork." you sniffled as you reached out and ran our fingers over the ink.  Kissing your lips passionately once again before resting his forehead against yours, he knew he would do whatever he had to to maintain the light once more shining in your eyes.

Still watching you play with the daisies, he quickly answered your playful statement before laying you down on the rug beside the fire.  "We both know I may be a dork my love, but I'm only your dork." he said, as he then proceeded to spend the night pulling you apart multiple times on his mouth, fingers and cock.  Thoroughly fucked and covered in sweat, cum and various parts of each other's bodies you closed your eyes and drifted off towards the approaching morning.

Rising before you once again, Brock set about loading everything back into the car before walking into the living room to wake you up.  Helping you from the rug and guiding you into the bathroom, a gloriously hot shower and Brock's skillful hands worked out all the knots sleeping on the floor had given you before breakfast filled the void in your stomach.  Then reluctantly driving away from your little retreat knowing he had to take you home so could face what lay ahead, he drew comfort from the fact that for the past few days you had once again been his beautiful north star, burning bright with the energy needed to conquer whatever your illness and life threw at you.

Tagging: @saiyanprincessswanie

[masked-buffoon]

Chapter 2: Twisted (Part 2)

Warnings: violence, torture (physical and mental), cruelty, murder

Author notes: there they start, at last, the horrible things I am able to write... I swear I am a nice person though! >.< anyway, I hope to enjoy nonetheless, but, again, do pay extra attention to the warnings, which may not sound as heavy as the actual work is...

Being far from my superior, I was allowed some respite. I was not beaten, yelled at, threatened nor insulted. I was exhausted, because of my ability, but also because of the harsh words he would bark at me when my achievements were disappointing.

Nevertheless, my enthusiasm was quickly spoiled by the man replacing Dazai-san, his second in command. Much older than my executive — he was around forty — he went by the common name of "Yamada-san" and did not seem to know how to use his brain cells, to the point that even I, whom I did not consider intelligent, could easily call him stupid. Or, perhaps stupid was a bit too harsh on him. Simple-minded would be better. His strategies reflected this fact, in the sense that they rarely did predict any counterattack nor did they measure the losses we could suffer. Often, we would have to find a way out by ourselves in the middle of the mission, and the effect of surprise supposed to give us advantage seldom succeeded. I never would have believed I could miss my superior, yet, at the very least, however careless he was toward his men, he did not send us to death mindlessly. I believed Yamada-san, occupying one of the highest seats of the Port Mafia, tended to see the members of the squadron as pawns he could easily sacrifice to complete his mission, whereas Dazai-san moved us intelligently to win with minimum losses. Having talked with a few members about our situation, I knew we all agreed about a fact; we were not disposable pawns in the eyes of our executive, and the second in command took too much liberties with us. Even so, the only thing we could do was waiting for a week to pass.

Yamada-san also took sadistic pleasure into sending me, particularly, to missions he knew were dangerous, mostly with an unprepared strategy. From tailing illegal dealers who robbed our stocks of drug to meeting a contact within the government to gather important information, I had often seen myself on the brink of being killed, or worse, being arrested and interrogated about the Port Mafia. Fortunately, I had always managed to escape or to suppress my opponent beforehand, to the second in command's displeasure. During the first few days, I had also taken numerous jobs as an executioner; I would find and eliminate betrayers of the organisation. The signature protocol for this matter was rather simple. After breaking the traitor's jaw on the pavement with a kick behind his head, I would turn him around to shoot three bullets into his chest while he would be screaming in agony. This method let the whole Yokohama know the Port Mafia was behind the murder, and the police would not try to investigate the case further. The first time such work had been given to me, I had not had too much issues with killing he man. I had already murdered two people before entering the Mafia, I was no stranger to the ways of taking one's life. However, I had had troubles pointing my gun on the man's chest, at the beginning. He was wailing, begging for his life, and he had not harmed me in any way. It was not a situation of defence, but a conscious killing. I could have witnessed horror in his eyes when he had understood he would not go back to his family the evening, and I had shut my mind. This path stained of blood, I had chosen it myself when I had followed Dazai-san, that day. I had to face the consequences, and I had to do the job. Not only was it necessary for me to survive, but it was also my duty, for I was a mafioso. Finally, I had found it pretty easy to pull the trigger thrice. A human's life was so absurdly easy to steal, so fragile, so worthless. The world I evolved in did not even permit me to loathe myself; killing people was my occupation, it was not worse than working in an office, was it? Besides, the Port Mafia had been the only place willing to take me in after I had been abandoned by my parents first, then by the dream-like benefactors who had proved to be monsters looking for easy money. The only future I could get, if I even had one, considering my ability was killing me, would be found in that underground organisation, and no matter what I wished for, no matter what I had once expected from life, all those prospects and desires were no more. The entire will of the Port Mafia had become mine, and I lived only to serve its purpose and obey my superior's orders. So that I could keep breathing the filthy air we filled our lungs with everyday, I had become a depraved puppet in the hands of people much more powerful than I would ever be, and I did not mind. Struggling against the fate decided for me would result in a loss of energy I could not afford, not in my state.

"Spare me! I beg you, spare me!!" The man cried as he ran away from my team in the narrow alleys of Yokohama.

Calmly, I followed him, without any rush. I had learnt the maps of the intricate maze of forgotten places of the town, those paths had no secret for me. Soon enough, I cornered him into a dead end, and he was forced to turn around, back against the wall behind him as though he could melt in it and miraculously disappear. I stood in front of him, staring at his pitiful face, drenched in sweat and tears.

"I'll tell you everything you want! I'll make up for my mistakes, so, please, don't kill me!" He fell onto his knees.

I kept staring at him, emotionless. This person had betrayed the Port Mafia by divulging important information to the police about our drug dealing businesses, in exchange for being protected as a witness. However, whether there were guards or not around his house, he could not escape the men sent after him — me — and would have to face retribution soon.

"Please... Please..." He sobbed.

Quietly, I pulled by box of pills out of my pocket and put one in my mouth. The pain relievers worked well to calm my headache, and I hummed, getting closer to him.

"Working for the Port Mafia requires to respect a few rules." I told him, crouching in front of him "But among them, unwavering loyalty toward the organisation is the most important one, so obvious no one even mentions it. Should you be tortured, should you be interrogated, never would you utter a single word about the Port Mafia. Any secret you know about us is to be taken with you to your grave, that is how we work, that is what you should have expected upon joining us."

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry... I was afraid... I didn't think..."

"You are sorry...?" I tilted my head slightly "Because of you, we are going to lose hundreds, thousands of dollars. Next to that sum, your life is a cheap payment, isn't it?"

"No... Please..." He sniffed pitifully, bowing in front of me and holding the hem of my coat "Please spare me... I have a wife, and a daughter..."

"I know." I raised his head harshly so I could look at him in the eyes "They've already been notified of your death, and the funerals are almost ready, too. All that's missing is the guest of honour — you. But you had to run away and make things difficult for you. You trapped yourself in that dead end, and I can't even break your jaw on the sidewalk, because there is no sidewalk, you see? I guess you'll have it the hard way..."

"No... No!!" He shouted as I stood up and threw him on the ground.

"Open your mouth." I demanded "And try to bite the dust, I don't know."

Knowing he could suffer more if he did not obey, he did his best to facilitate the process of breaking his jaw. His scream echoed in the alley the moment my heel crushed the back of his head, but I clicked my tongue.

"See..." I examined his mandible "Not yet broken. That's what you get for running away, I suppose..."

My men stayed quiet as I repeatedly kicked his head, making him cry until his vocal chords gave up on him and he could only yelp and whimper each time my foot met his head. After a few times, the familiar cracking sound reached my ears and I sighed deeply.

"Finally...!" I exclaimed "Goodness, I thought I would never be able to do it...! Usually, it only takes me a single attempt... Now, now... Do you have any last word? None? Oh, I was inconsiderate... Both your jaw and voice are broken... You can't possibly answer me. It is fortunate that I can at least hear your last thoughts... Don't worry, your daughter will be perfectly fine. She's such a lucky girl, having a loving father... Had you been mine, perhaps we would not be in such a situation, but I suppose you don't care about my feelings... That being said, the Port Mafia wishes you a pleasant journey in the afterlife...!"

One, two and three bullets in his chest. He died immediately, without a sound, and I had accomplished my duty. I exhaled and put my gun into the holster before turning toward the men escorting me. They stayed speechless as I walked past them, only to glance at them over my shoulder.

"Are you going to gawk at that dead body the entire day?" I asked curtly "We have other tasks, let's not waste any more time there."

There was another traitor who had joined another organisation and whose name was on the list of people I had to execute this day. I hoped he would not run away in a street without a sidewalk — having to break their jaw like this was quite exhausting for my body.

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[ryqoshay]

How to Handle a Nico 10

Primary Pairing: NicoMaki Words: ~2.6k Rating: G Time Frame: Maki is a surgeon. Nico is working as an idol producer. They are living together as a happily married couple.

Author’s Note: A bunch of cobbled together headcanons that I hope to someday expand upon and turn into full scenes in their own right, just like the rest of the numbered chapters. This one was inspired by VNVdarkangel’s fiception story about Egao Jōshō, to which I will link in the followup post.

“Nico Nico Ni~!” Nico sang as soon as she entered the room.

“Nico Nico Ni~!” An excited group of children sang in return, mimicking the twin-tailed idol’s signature gesture.

“Someone’s as popular as ever with the kids.” Tsubasa murmured to a redhead beside her, just loud enough to ensure Nico could hear.

“That’s because she is still like a kid.” Maki replied in a similar volume.

Nico resisted gritting her teeth and maintained her smile as she continued to greet the audience. The small room was packed from wall to wall with inpatient children, some in wheelchairs and one in a gurney. All were ready for a brief respite from their routines of surgeries, treatments, therapies and whatever else was being done to help them recover. Several attending staff members were also present as well as a handful of parents or other family members.

“Thank you for that wonderful greeting!” Nico cheered. “Now let’s all thank the woman who continues to ensure these concerts can occur; the amazingly adorable Dr. Maki-chan!” She swung her arms around in an exaggerated manner to indicate the woman beside her.

“Thank you, Dr. Maki-chan!” the children turned their attention to the named redhead.

“N-Nico-chan…” Maki protested quietly, unable to resist a blooming blush across her cheeks as she bowed in acknowledgement of the thanks.

Well, that was sufficient revenge against Maki. Nico then decided to leave getting back at Tsubasa for later. For now, she had a concert to run.

Nico took the single step up onto the raised section at the front of the room. It was an area small enough that her old school idol group, µ’s, would have barely fit with enough room to dance in place and have been hard pressed to perform larger scale choreography. Still, a stage was a stage, and Nico lived for every moment upon one. Likewise, an audience was an audience, and Nico’s heart pounded in anticipation as she turned to face a small sea of smiling faces.

Tsubasa gave a quick countdown with her fingers from her position at the karaoke machine and the moment she hit Play, the concert began.

By the gods, the thrill never faded. Nico threw herself into her performance with the same passion as when she had shared the stage with µ’s. It didn’t matter that she had been doing this for years. It didn’t matter that she could only dedicate a woefully small fraction of her time to the stage as her primary duties were to run her company. It didn’t matter that the high majority of the idols currently contracted with her company were around a decade younger than her. Nico was born to perform and would always give everything she had to her fans. Even if her fanbase eventually shrunk to just one person…

One fan…

There had been a couple times in her life that Nico had believed she had lost her entire fanbase; that she was hopelessly lost as an idol. The second half of her first and the entirety of her second year in high school, she had stewed alone in the clubroom, growing more bitter and jaded with each passing day. But the fiery passions within her had been reignited when she joined µ’s in her third year. It was in that group that she found a fiery redhead who captured her attention and became someone whose attention she sought in return.

Nico’s gaze found the redhead, no longer an idol, but now a doctor, leaning casually against the doorframe, ready to slip away swiftly and stealthily should some situation arise somewhere in the hospital. Maki, her wife and by far and away her favorite fan.

Maki was there the second time Nico thought she had lost it all, when the fact that the two were dating became a scandal that ended her solo idol career. Nozomi, Eli and the rest of her friends did their best to show Nico that she wasn’t alone this time, but looking back, Nico knew little of it would have mattered if she had lost Maki then. But she didn’t. Maki remained by her side, supporting her however she could and regularly reminding her of her duties as an idol; making people smile, even if just one person.

Also, years ago, in a rare moment of utter openness, Maki had admitted that when Nico was in the audience, she was the only one that mattered. Certainly, Maki loved sharing her music with others, especially those close to her. In fact, it was for this reason that she didn’t put up resistance when Honoka continued to insist on having Christmas reunions at the Nishikino home, even years after everyone had graduated. However, everyone else seemed to disappear if Nico was around as Maki had come to enjoy the attention Nico paid her. And as time went by, she started to crave it.

Nico hadn’t really thought about things in the same way Maki had explained them, but she realized that she held a similar sentiment. As much as Nico loved the lights, the cameras, the crowd, the cheers, the giddy and giggling girls anxiously awaiting autographs, it all paled in comparison to the attention and adoration of one fan. And the fact that Maki felt the same in return made it all the better.

Enthusiastic applause and cheers filled the room as the final song of the set came to an end, bringing Nico back to reality from the euphoric trance her performance had induced within her. She bowed and thanked the audience before relinquishing the stage to another raven-haired woman.

The younger idol was one who had taken Egao’s college program that allowed her to take classes alongside beginning her career as an idol. Recently, she had earned her degree and thus fulfilled her parents’ requirements. Immediately, she signed a full-time contract and dived headlong into the world of idols with a passion rivaling the likes of Egao’s founding members. This of course included active participation in the company’s volunteer program as often as possible, like today’s concert.

Nico made her way toward her wife while the stage behind her was set ablaze by the intensity of the performance.

“Another good show.” Maki said quietly so as not to distract from the idol on stage.

Nico offered a grateful smile before turning her back to the wall, leaning into her wife and resting her head on the taller woman’s shoulder.

“You’re definitely doing your duty as an idol, today, Nico-chan.” Maki continued, surprising Nico by sliding her hand into hers and intertwining their fingers. “Just look at all those smiles.” She smiled as well as she gazed fondly at the room as a whole. “You know, some days I believe this program does more good for these kids than all of the PT and treatments combined.”

Nico chuckled. “I dunno, I may sing my heart out up there, but I can’t mend a broken bone or treat any sort of disease, unlike my marvelous Maki-chan.”

“But you help ease the stress of the whole ordeal of being in a hospital as a child. I don’t think we’ll ever be able to definitively quantify the amount of improvements made. But there is no doubt that this makes a difference.” She squeezed her wife’s hand. “You make a difference. And I can’t thank you enough for keeping this project running.”

Nico decided to let Maki have the last point and offered her a hand squeeze in return. Sure, it had originally been Nico’s idea to start holding concerts in the Nishikino hospital, but the project would have never gotten off the ground had it not been for Maki.

Well, spinoff project, really. Egao’s volunteer program predated the production company itself. It all started with a request from Hanayo for Nico to help an overextended Rin. The orange-haired young woman had been working an internship position at a local school and was recognized by the fledgling idol group there. Though Rin wasn’t the type to complain about it, Hanayo was sensitive to the stress caused by trying to maintain a classwork, an internship and help a newly formed school idol group.

Nico, who was spending most of her days then awaiting approvals and licensing for this and that to get Egao up and running, had more free time to lend assistance to the group. Then Hanayo made a few appearances after her classes. Soon after, Tsubasa, Erena and Anju took time out of their schedules as well. Everyone involved had so much fun working with the up and coming idols that they quickly agreed with Nico’s idea to turn it into one of the cornerstones of Egao’s business philosophies.

Thus, the Pro Bono Schola Idoli project began. Just as lawyers in many areas were expected to put in so many hours a month for clients unable to pay normal rates, so too would Egao expect their employees to assist the next generations of idols. The project grew to include all areas, from pushing past trouble points in song writing to reviewing choreography, as well as donating materials for costume creation or making connections to secure areas for live performances. Naturally, the idols were expected to do the bulk of the work themselves, but quite often, even something as simple as receiving praise, criticism and advice from professionals was enough to boost moral for many groups.

It was through this program that Egao earned much of its notoriety in the industry and Nico began to worry about having enough volunteers to fill the incoming requests. But, much to her delight, such a situation rarely came to pass. In fact, after a couple years, the project began being mentioned by new hires and contractors as being a reason for their desire to work with Egao. And of course, with that level of popularity, other companies began to take notice and slowly, ever so slowly, started rolling out similar programs of their own, though to nowhere near a degree as Egao.

But a live idol performance in a hospital? Maki’s father had been right in saying the idea was utterly ridiculous. What had they been thinking all those years ago?

It was for the fans. Everything was always for the fans. Keep them smiling, even when, or perhaps especially when they were lying in a gurney, awaiting their terminal illness to take its final toll…

Jizenka… An amazing artist and avid fan. The first concert had been for her and had intended to be a special, onetime-only thing.

But news spread fast, and soon a nurse approached Maki about another young fan. And then another request came in. And then one for A-RISE. Then another. And another.

Nico heard from both Maki and Miyuki, the hospital’s head administrative assistant, about the heated debates among senior hospital staff as the concerts began to increase in frequency. Surprisingly, it was Maki’s father that ended up fighting the hardest to allow the concerts to continue. Through it all, he maintained his distaste for the genre of idol music but became unwavering in his position that the positive results he was seeing outweighed the potential disruptions. Certainly, it helped that all involved took extra precautions to minimalize such possible disruptions to normal hospital functions.

Eventually, and unsurprisingly, perpetual private performances proved to be unsustainable. Maki initially attempted to secure occasional use for the hospital’s auditorium, but that area wasn’t the most accessible for some patients, specifically those needing to remain in bed; the room wasn’t designed with gurneys in mind, after all.

Nico couldn’t remember who originally made the suggestion, but as the high majority of the patients attending the concerts were children, constructing a small addition to the children’s wing ended up being the best solution. The project was funded in full by generous donations from grateful parents with the excess being donated to children’s medical research. A dedicated area with full hospital level access, yet outside both general and emergency traffic paths and was an easy green light to be given by the paternal Dr. Nishikino.

Once the auditorium was built, it didn’t take long for other companies to take interest and the possibility of other, non-idol genres of productions started to become a reality. However, with two performances a week dedicated to the genre, the idols remained the most popular. Maki designated Egao as the point of contact for scheduling events and Nico maintained the position that all events would be free to those attending. Parents or others wishing to provide monetary compensation were asked instead to donate the sum to a designated list of charities, just like the excess funds from building the auditorium.

“Excuse me, Yazawa-san.” A woman said, her voice barely audible above the joyous cries of adoration as the second performer concluded her set and allowed the women of A-RISE to take the stage.

“Nico is fine.” The idol producer replied with a smile, turning toward the other woman.

“The nurse said we couldn’t buy tickets…”

Nico nodded. “That’s right, these events are free for patients and a limited number of their guests, courtesy of Egao Jōshō and the Nishikino hospital.”

A familiar expression crossed the woman’s face, one Nico had seen hundreds of times before. “My son has been a big fan of the girl who was just on stage and he was overjoyed to learn that she would be coming this week. Are you sure there is nothing I can offer, payment for an autograph or something?”

A card entered Nico’s field of vision. “Here is a list of medical charities.” She heard her wife explain. “Whatever price you believe would be appropriate, we ask that you donate that sum to one of them.”

“Thanks, Maki-chan.” Nico flashed a grin at the redhead. “Also,” she turned her attention back to the parent “if your son has any merchandise with him, we’ll be sure he gets it signed by his favorite idol. If he doesn’t have an item, we have plenty of paper.”

“Thank you.” The woman said, seeming to be holding back tears. “Truly, thank you.” With that, she bowed and made her way back to where her son sat in a wheelchair, barely having noticed her absence as his attention was held exclusively by the continuing performance on stage.

“You keep your own supply of cards now?” Nico couldn’t help murmuring to her wife.

“Of course.” Maki replied. “Your idol outfits don’t typically come with pockets.”

“True…” Nico returned to her prior position of leaning into Maki. “Say, Maki-chan, how much time do you have left before you have to go back?”

“I can stay until the end, unless some emergency happens, of course. Why?”

“Nico is starting to get hungry and now wants to have lunch with her favoritest Maki-chan before we both head back to work.”

“Oh… I’d… be alright with that…”

Nico giggled quietly, not having to look up to know the expression on the taller woman’s face. After a moment, she knelt to retrieve her phone.

No1Idol: I’m stealing Maki-chan for an early lunch

ByōinKasan: Roger that

ByōinKasan: Have fun you two

Nico smiled at the swift response from Miyuki. There was always the chance that Maki could end up being called back for something major, but at least this way, all minor things could be redirected to other staff or asked to wait a little while.

As the final song of the concert came to an end, Nico grabbed Maki’s hand. “C’mon. Let’s go.”

“Alright.” Maki replied, allowing herself to be led into the hall. But after a couple steps, she paused. “Ne, Nico-chan…”

“Mmm?” Nico turned as she felt resistance.

“I…” Maki glanced around, likely to ensure a lack of witnesses. “I love you.”

“I know.” Nico resisted the urge to tease her wife about her behavior. Sneaking in a quick statement like that before the hall was to be filled with people exiting the auditorium wasn’t quite as public a display as Nico liked to do herself, but for someone like Maki, it still meant a lot. “I love you too, Maki-chan.”

With their routine completed, the couple continued toward their destination of a shared lunch break.

Author’s Note Continued in Followup Post

[kodie-ffxiv]

#5 Matter of Fact

Part 2 of this story

Hours had passed since Konnor and Alvent continued their search, their trek moved deeper, and deeper into Toto Rak. They easily dispatched any threats that came their way, got through any traps that would have been triggered. Finally their labor had paid off, what they sought was within reach.

A white glowing flower lit up the room, producing a bright unnatural light. Konnor’s eyes widen as he knew exactly what it was, and that it was the item they were looking for. His Elezen companion stood in awe as well, unable to believe that the flower existed despite seeing it with his own eyes.

“We found it...we finally found it! After all these summers!!” Konnor said, his usual calm, and relaxed demeanor settled back to show how excited he was. It was five years when Eleena had suffered from the curse, and now the cure was there. 

“Seven hells, you did it, Konnor...yeah fuckin did it!” Alvent replied with some excitement on his own. 

“We did it buddy, now let’s grab it and get the hells out of here.” He said beaming proudly at his best friend.

Just as the two were to approach the flower, a flash dark purplish blinded the room, causing the pair to quickly cover their eyes for a few moment. It didn’t take long for Konnor, and Alvent to regain their senses, but by the time they turned towards where the flower rested, there stood another Midlander, dressed in all black, with a cloak over him. Though while he seemed like a normal looking male, there was a strong void aura about him, that even those who weren’t aether sensitive could feel. Removing the hood over his head, his grinned wickedly as Konnor quickly recognized. “Elric....”

“Hello again, brother...it’s been awhile hasn’t it? I see you’ve come searching for something huh?” He held out his right hand, opening it up to reveal the bright white flower in his hand. “I see you’ve come for the Amdapori Lilac...it was vital during the War of Magi. The Mhachi used the curse against the Amdapori to bring great pain and suffering, but once the Amdapori found the use of the Lilac and discovered it could break the curse....they made sure plenty were grown. Of course the end of their astral era destroy most of these...but to see this being the last one, growing in such a dark place, brings you hope doesn’t it?”

The Wildwood quickly grabbed his lance holding it at the ready. “Drop it now, voidsent!! Begone!!”

Konnor quickly hand his hand back towards Alvent, as if he was asking to hold back, his eyes on still focused on his brother. “Elric please, let me have the flower. We’ve both been through a lot, we’ve both suffered. I know you must hate me for what I did to you, and you have every right to, but Eleena is suffering because of us. Let me help her, and afterwards...I don’t know, we can think of something, I’ll give you a duel....or maybe, just maybe we can even reconcile. Even through all of that void magic, you’re still my little brother, the little brother who would come to me when thunder crashed loudly and stay in my room where it was safe, the little brother would always ran to me when he was being pushed by others, the one who...”

Elric interrupted. “The one who turned on me when I needed me the most, the casted me away, who claimed I as no longer a Durant...”

“I know what I said, and I regret it. We can be a family again, please come back to us Elric, we’ll mend things, we’ll make it all workout in the end.” Konnor reached for his own lance but quickly dropped it on the ground. “We’ll all go someplace safe, just please give me the flower.”

The voidsent Midlander looked down at the flower, closing his eyes as he let out a sigh. “That’s all I ever wanted, Konnor.....I just wanted my family back..I just wanted to be accepted....but most importantly I wanted the last member of my family....” He opened his eyes as his hand began to engulf in flame, causing the flower to be eradicated. “...to suffer.”

Konnor’s eyes went wide as he dropped to his knees in shock as the only thing that could have cured his wife faded into dust. At the same time Alvent charged at the voidsent his lance at the ready. “You piece of shite!!! You’ll pay.....”

Before he could get close enough, the Elezen stopped in his tracks as he felt a tinge of pain in his stomach. Looking down he saw what looked like dark shard impaled through his stomach. Elric smirked as he tilted his head. “You were saying Wildwood?” With a slight wave of his hand, the shard began to electrify, the screams of Alvent echo through the entire cooridors until his lifeless, burned body crumbled.

“N..NO! Alvent!!!” Konnor quickly grabbed his own lance and began to charge as well, attempting to strike at Elric, but with ease the voidsent dodged. Konnor kept with his attacks, trying to strike, to out maneuver, flank, but each move it was as if his brother knew ahead of time, dodging each attack with ease. Elric continued toying with his brother, and despite knowing how futile fighting him was, Konnor never stopped. His body burned, and ached, his breathing became more sporadic as fatigue was over taking him.

One last swing of his lance, and Elric teleported several yalms away, looking over to his worn brother smirking. “Are we finished now?”

Konnor’s eyes narrowed as he kept his stance at the ready, his teeth gritting with anger as his eyes shot daggers towards the voidsent. “Never!!!” Another charge, but this time Konnor side stepped, using every ounce of his speed to outflank his opponent. This however wasn’t enough as Elric quickly turned in a flash, grabbing Konnor by the neck and slammed him into a wall hard enough that his brother dropped his weapon, cracking several bones, and causing him to cough up blood. 

“I was going to let you leave, let you suffer further for you even thinking you had a chance, I was going to let you watch your pathetic wife wither away from the curse. But no, you had to continue this game, this game you’ll never win.” Elrics eyes glowed, showing how unnatural they had become. As he held his larger brother with ease by his neck. “I am no longer your brother, nor do I wish it. I’ve found my cause. But knowing you were suffering, makes everything so much better...”

“I....won’t...stop..I will never stop finding you...” Konnor spoke as blood continued to cough out. His hand reaching over to grab Elric’s wrist, trying to pull away but knowing that was moot. 

Elric sighed shaking his head. “I know you will, which is why I’m ending it now...but don’t worry, I’ll make sure your love will find you..so she’ll know what her outlook will be. I have to confess something. You see, when I kill you, you’ll be sent to someplace better more than likely, but when she finally succumbs to that curse...her soul will go to whomever casted the curse....that’s right...it will belong to me...you’ll never see your beloved Eleena again, even beyond...and in the end that’s the ultimate form of suffering you’ll endure.”

The voidsent laughed as he gave Konnor a moment to let everything sink in. As expected the Midlander tried with every ounce of strength to fight back, to pull away. Suddenly he began to feel Elric’s grip loosen, he hand thought this was his moment to free himself, but again it was another game for Elric, making him think he had a moment of respite, and just like that the voidsent snapped Konnor’s neck like it was nothing, killing him instantly. 

Elric finally released the lifeless body, dropping at his feet, giving his brother’s body a cold lifeless stare for a moment before giving it a sadistic cackle.

[creatvresoftheniight]

i got something to lose, so i gotta move  -- erica & luke ( @xxourxdestinyxx​ )

The screech of tyres sounded out every single time she turned a corner far too sharply, the purr of the motor echoing through every single street in Windham, and her hand pulling on the throttle was exactly the kind of exhilaration that Erica had been needing. Her bike, her baby, was so well built and maintained that it hardly mattered if she bumped up onto the sidewalk or rode as rough as she was. The cost to keep the motorcycle in as good shape as it was really was of no consequence to her; her family had plenty stored away and she thanked her lucky stars that she’d been smart enough to save up a decent portion of her own with what she’d been given by her parents and what she’d earned in... other ways. It was best, really, not to delve into the specifics, especially with The Order’s presence looming over the town, and the compounds. But even that hardly mattered as she zipped through the slow traffic, deaf to the yells and beeping of horns that were left behind her already out of earshot for any normal human to hear, shooting down the road. Was this reckless? Absolutely. Could she seriously hurt herself? Almost definitely. And yet, Erica found nothing within her that allowed her the strength to care.

Gods. George should have just taken that fucking shot.

... And then he would have been killed by someone else, who would have been killed, who would have been killed, who... Jesus Christ, this battle between the packs was never going to end.

... No. This wasn’t the time to be thinking about that, or about any of the other horrible encounters she’d endured in the last couple of weeks. She needed to find somewhere to hide away from all of this, somewhere to just... find some respite. Was it too much to ask that she have that from time to time?

She’d been laid up in bed in her private quarters, body sprawled out over the silken sheets and large amount of pillows that were scattered over the mattress, not needing to think too deeply about where to go and who to turn to in this situation.

Luke.

It made sense, after all. Her boyfriend-- yeesh, even now, she still wasn’t totally sure how much she liked calling him that, it made her sound like she was still in high school --was quite simply, one of the only people in Windham she could actually relax around and just be herself for a change. It was one of the many reasons she’d even liked him in the first place as a person-- he didn’t judge or pity her, he was to the point and hilariously blunt at times. Meeting him for the first time had been like a breath of fresh air smacking her rather solidly across the face, and she’d loved it. Someone who spoke their mind without having to worry about walking on eggshells, she’d wanted that for herself. And in a way, she’d gotten it.

Just the same as she’d never intended to fall for Grace, or Matt, or Charlie or George, when she’d first realised she was feeling something for Luke, she’d kicked herself over and over, ultimately convinced that she had absolutely no chance with him and yet still, over and over, she’d drop whatever she was doing to spend time with him. And that first talk-- about each other, about them and togetherness-- it had been so surreal. She’d been steeling herself for a gentle rejection at best, and for him to laugh it all off at worst. For what she had felt and still did feel to be even the tiniest bit reciprocated-- honestly, she’d never in a million years thought it possible. However, despite everything she had thought she knew about the man, and despite the fact that she had herself totally believing that it just wouldn’t happen, it had been Luke who had blurted it all out to her, first.

She could still recall the emotions that had coursed throughout her systems upon hearing him telling her just what he felt, not so much out of disbelief but more... of shock over the fact that he even thought of her in that way, much less to the degree he had described, The resulting talk had been insanely honest and somewhat awkward, the two of them clearly amazed that they’d ended up in that situation-- honesty was something Erica was in no way used to, but she wouldn’t have changed a single thing about what happened. Being so in awe over the fact that he cared for her enough to tell her what he felt for her had stripped away any worry that she might have had in seeming or sounding stupid in saying what she’d been dying to let out for a good while. It hadn’t been smooth, it hadn’t been calm or cute. Rather, in much the same way as he’d done, the she-wolf had blurted it all out in one long, rambling mess of words.

Still, she must have done something right considering the fact that they were still together.

Partners. The thought allowed a wave of comfort to wash over her as she rode on; Luke emanated a special kind of danger that attracted her like a moth to a flame, and Erica... brought.. other things to the table, she supposed? Really, she had no clue what kept him around, or how she’d managed to get so lucky with him but Gods be damned if she wasn’t always grateful for his companionship whether he was her lover or not.

Naturally, their relationship had been kept a total secret from the rest of the town, even from those she trusted deeply. Not because she wanted to hide him away-- that couldn’t be further from the truth, though a voice in her mind protested otherwise. She wanted nothing more than to be able to just be herself, with him, without the fear that he would be used as some sort of tool to keep her in line. With his life and their freedom at stake, the Beta couldn’t in good conscience allow herself to scream out to the rest of the world how much of a damn she gave about Lucas, no matter how tempting it was.

Gods, she really needed his company right now. The full moon was fast approaching and she could never stop her worry over his safety on nights like it, so often sprinting through the forests in an attempt to catch just a hint of his scent and spend the wild night with him. Sometimes she’d find him. Other times, she’d been alone, her wolf keening at the thought of not searching for Luke. But she couldn’t have every full moon with him, as much as she would have loved it, and that was okay. It was okay to be away from the people one cared about from time to time. She didn’t need to smother him, and he was a tough man-- Erica would truly be surprised if he couldn’t handle himself out in the wilds.

Wow, she really needed to see him before then. Now, in fact, as she took another sharp turn down a street, headed for his workplace without much thought put into how she was going to convince him to come along with her. It didn’t matter, she’d figure something out.

Right now, all she knew was that  she just needed to be around Luke. He gave no judgement, no pity. Just comfort, from the one person she’d actually managed to hold onto throughout this shitshow. Why he even bothered to stick around, she really didn’t know; Erica had always been too afraid to ask him that particular question, despite the fact that she knew, logically, the rogue wolf wasn’t going to turn away from her. Even after all they’d shared with one another, all they’d spoken about it still surprised her, and she was so unbelievably appreciative that she was able to have him in her life, every single time she was reminded of the fact.

Sappy? Yes. True? Oh-- most definitely. And she hardly cared.

His building came into view, and in true Erica Wright fashion, she popped the bike up onto the mainly empty sidewalk before screeching to a halt in front of the doors, kicking out the stand to support her baby while she sat and pulled out her phone, sending a brief message to Luke to come downstairs and outside before stuffing it back into a deep, protective pocket. And when she did spot him, her chest fluttering ever so gently as she unwittingly grinned (it was impossible to ignore how much of an effect he really had on her, and after all this time, she was perfectly happy not to stifle those emotions), she just couldn’t help herself-- removing her helmet in an exceptionally smooth action, her hair was certainly tousled and tangled from being caught in the damned thing for the last half hour. Still, she allowed herself to reach her free hand upward, midriff exposed as she let out a satisfied groan, then shaking her head to allow her locks to free up just a tad and giving Luke a flirtatious wink.

“Hope you’re not busy,” she called out to him, setting the helmet down on the seat and hoisting herself off of the bike to saunter over to the other wolf proper. No, she couldn’t be too affectionate with him just yet-- soon, though her hands reached out to fiddle with part of his shirt. That’s all I can do. Any more and we raise suspicion. Later, Erica. Later. “Because I was thinking we could ditch today. Take a ride somewhere nice... be alone. Hm? Think you can fit that into your schedule?” Pulling her bottom lip between her teeth as she looked up through her lashes at him and forced herself to hold back a ridiculous grin, her eyes sparkling with a rare happiness that it seemed only Luke could cause to come about as she leant into whisper her next words against his ear, hoping to sweeten the pot just a little more and entice him further; “I’ll even let you drive,” Then, just as quick as she had leant she moved back, playing coy as she, once again, looked up at him-- this time, right into his eyes. “C’mon-- what do you say? Think they can manage here without you for a while? Cross my heart I’ll have you home before curfew.”

[discomfort-food]

Terrible, Beautiful, Maddening (a Hegeleth fic) 1/?

Summary:

“The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear.” ― H.P. Lovecraft

The second oldest is love.

Canon-divergent at the end of Azure Moon.

Read on AO3

Chapter 1: Out of Enbarr

A rosy hue was just barely lighting the eastern sky when the mercenary left Enbarr, looking for answers to questions she did not yet know how to ask. 

The former capital of the Empire may have been under occupation by Kingdom troops, but for the common folk, life must continue as usual. The street vendors’ food tasted the same whether the shade of a red or a blue banner fell across their stalls. Kingdom horses left the same droppings on the cobblestones as imperial steeds, and they all went into the same street cleaner’s cart at the end of the day.

She clung to the edges of the streets, ducking her hooded head further down and slinking into the shadows when a patrolling guard came into view. If stopped, a quick reveal of her signature green hair would have sufficed to allow her to continue on her way unimpeded, but that would take precious time from her journey away from the city, and leave unwanted gossip that Seteth would no doubt have to clean up.

A pang of guilt threaded through her chest when she thought of Seteth. He had been shouldering the majority of the duties that came with leading the Church; although it was Rhea’s wish that she replace her as Archbishop when the time came, she knew very little of the actual tenets of the faith due to her isolated upbringing. Not that Seteth ever complained, of course. He was the type of person that thrived on being busy and having innumerable responsibilities, though he would be hard-pressed to admit it. 

Technically, she wasn’t even officially the Archbishop yet. Rhea had been found, deep in the dungeons underneath the palace, weak and in no shape to lead the Church. Plans to officially hand over the reins had already been put in motion; once Rhea had recuperated enough to be seen in public and crown the new King of Fodlan, the heavy mantle of the church would be laid upon her shoulders.

--

“Seteth. May I ask you a favor?” The question lies strangely in her mouth. She is not usually one to ask for favors.

“What is it, my friend? You know I will do my best to accommodate.”

Hesitation. “I need… I need some space.”

He frowns, not understanding. “Space? We do all need quiet moments to ourselves from time to time. I have found the palace gardens to be particularly peaceful when I am in need of respite.”

A sigh. “No, that’s not it. I need to leave. I need time to… process. By myself.”

“Leave? To where? For how long?” She winces at the slight tone of panic in his voice.

“I don’t know where, really. Anywhere where people don’t call me ‘Professor’ or ‘my lady,’ I suppose.” She hesitantly meets his eyes. “And it wouldn’t be for five years again. I can promise you that. Two or three months at most. Before winter arrives.”

He puts his forehead in his hand and exhales. “I understand the war has been hard, Byleth.” He is one of the few people who actually do address her by her name. “You, perhaps most of all, have been shouldering the greatest burden of all of us, between commanding the army and acting as a figurehead for the church. I sincerely apologize if your personal needs have gone unnoticed during this process, and I cannot stop you from taking a period of time to yourself. However, I would be remiss if I did not ask you to reconsider. There is still so much work to be done to repair relations between the Kingdom and former imperial lands. Not to mention it would be devastating to the church if anything were to befoul you and we had no way of knowing.”

“I understand your position, Seteth. And please know that I take no pleasure in adding to your responsibilities. But there is… something I need to do.”

He contemplated her words. Softly, “I don’t suppose this something has anything to do with the recent reports of mutilated livestock being reported from rural territories.”

She remained silent.

A defeated sigh. “Very well. You have earned my trust twice over, and I know once you set your mind on something, the goddess herself cannot sway your decision. I only ask that you refrain from leaving any… mess… that would have to be cleaned up.”

A nod. “Thank you, Seteth.”

--

The rosy hue in the sky had evolved into a full palette of warm colors by the time she reached the city gate. Most traffic at this hour was entering the city: farmers bringing cattle in to be sold at the butcher, merchants pushing carts of their wares to be sold in the marketplace. A handful of guards, clad in recently issued blue tabards, were busy inspecting carts as they entered the city. Accounting for persons exiting the city was not a priority, and a lone person travelling on foot would have no cause to be questioned. Dodging a pair of children, clearly excited to spend a day in the capital, and slipping through the narrow space between a carriage and the stone archway of the gate, Byleth stepped beyond the walls that she never wanted to be enclosed within again.

Ragged, unplanned settlements where the poorest lived spread out a mile or so from the gate. Most people living here worked in the city but were unable to afford property and safety within Enbarr proper. Life woke up early here, already she could see women hanging up the day’s laundry, men slurping down a lean breakfast before beginning their day of work.

A mangy dog chewing on a scrap of cloth thumped his tail at Byleth as she walked by. Dust kicked up under her feet and hung heavily in the air, painting her boots the color of a rusted sword. She knew the ground wouldn’t have to wait long for its thirst to be quenched, however; the angry red sky was a sign that late summer showers were soon to follow.

The patched and weary shacks gave way to fields of crops, or what was left of them. What hadn’t been harvested prematurely to feed increasingly desperate imperial troops had been trampled or burned by the zealous kingdom army on their march to Enbarr. Despite the destruction, Byleth could see farmers dotting the landscape, tilling the fields, guiding work horses, clearing destroyed vegetation. It would be a meagre winter in the south; efforts had been put underway to ration what remained of imperial food stores but it was a raw fact that many throughout Fodlan would not live to see the spring.

Byleth followed the road, rutted from centuries of use, as it lazily curved northward. She walked at a steady pace; she had a general destination in mind, but for once in many moons there was no imminent need to reach a particular location. She travelled light: a basic pack that carried survival necessities, and a humble sword on her belt, much like the blade she once wielded as a mercenary. The Sword of the Creator had been left in Seteth’s care. The attention that weapon would bring would certainly outweigh its usefulness, and she had a feeling she would not have need of its power for a long time.

--

“So… That grotesque creature was Edelgard…”

They stand just inside the palace throne room. She can see Dimitri’s in rough shape but he hides it well. Most people wouldn’t notice the way he favors his left side, the slight tremble in his grip on Areadbhar. She is not most people. If their comrades had been as perceptive as she, they probably would have not let only the two of them enter the throne room alone. As it is, they are busy holding off reinforcements coming from upstairs, downstairs, and several hidden passages no doubt designed to make the palace difficult to secure to those unfamiliar with it.

Despite her position, Edelgard has surprisingly little defences in her throneroom. That is, if the nightmarish figure standing, no- hovering just in front of the Adrestian throne could still be called Edelgard. If it were not for the golden horns atop her stark white hair, she would be unrecognizable as the student she taught years ago at Garreg Mach.

A twisted snarl echoes through the chamber: “These fools are caught up in the sacrifices at hand and cannot see the future ramifications at stake… We must bury them.” Each word is inhuman, a mangled echo of the calm, evaluating girl she once rewound time itself to save.

“We must trample the past underfoot, and move onward to a brighter tomorrow!” The words are forceful but ultimately hollow; it is but the snarl of a cornered and desperate animal. 

Nevertheless, her words have their desired effect on the remaining guards in the room, who begin to advance toward the intruders.

--

Just as she had predicted, by early afternoon the sky had opened to a downpour. Byleth trudged along, avoiding the muddiest bits of the road. Before leaving Enbarr, she had traded her signature fishnet stockings and coat for trousers and a hooded cloak that had been treated to resist water. Even so, a damp chill crept its way through her body. She stuck her hands in her armpits as she walked to keep them warm. 

The wet squelch of hooves in mud steadily came from behind her, slowing as they neared. A soft “Whoa, there!” and the snorting of horses followed as a cart pulled alongside her. Keeping a hand on her blade underneath her cloak, she turned her body to allow the cart to pass.

Instead of continuing, however, the cart creaked to a halt. The driver, a heavyset, bearded man, pulled up his hood, blinking rain out of his eyes. “Hello there, friend! Not great weather to be taking a walk in, is it? Hop in and we’ll give you a lift to Belfort.” He jerked his head to the back of the open cart, where a handful of drenched fieldhands sat. “‘Fraid it’s not much shelter from the rain, but it’ll save your feet some work, eh?”

Byleth nodded and let out a brief “Thank you,” before climbing into the back of the cart, where the others shuffled to make room. A few peered at her curiously when the hilt of her sword came into view.

“You a mercenary or somethin’?” A young woman with a dark braid sat on the bench across from her. Her face was lined beyond her years, a sign of a life of hard work outdoors. 

“I am.”

“Don’t see many of you guys outside of a company anymore, most I figure banded together to join the war.”

“I used to be in a company, but…” Byleth trailed off, leaving the woman to draw her own conclusions. It wasn’t exactly a lie anyway.

“Yeah, yeah, I get ya’. Well, we all do what we can to survive. Looks like the goddess was looking out for you.” 

The corner of Byleth’s mouth quirked up at the mention of the goddess but she did not reply.

“So where’re you headed now? I hear there’s a need for blades up north in the old Alliance.”

Byleth blinked and contemplated for a moment. “North,” she confirmed. “I’m tracking… someone.” 

She perked up at this; Byleth realized this was probably the most interesting interaction the woman had had all day.

“Oh, hunting for a bounty, eh? Tell me what they look like, maybe I’ve seen them. A lot of people pass through on the way out of the capital, you know.”

Byleth shook her head slowly. “They didn’t.”

The woman rolled her eyes, but a sly smirk graced her face. “All right, all right, keep your secrets. My ma always did say I ask too many questions for my own good.” She slumped back against the rail of the cart, toying with her braid. Her hair was a similar shade to what Byleth used to see in the mirror herself.

Byleth raised her eyes to the sky. The rain didn’t look to be letting up any time soon. “How far is it to, um...” 

“Belfort. About thirty minutes at the rate we’re goin’. Normally, most travellers from the capital push on a few hours more to Willsfeldt, but I reckon this,” she gestured towards the heavens, “is going to last into the night...” The woman chattered on amicably, Byleth nodding along but only half listening. The names of towns, cities, rivers, entered and left Byleth’s mind like dry leaves. She had never had to worry about the specifics of location names or borders when she was a mercenary. Even the odd times a job separated her from Jeralt, she would have no trouble navigating using landmarks and the stars. 

“... anyway if you’re looking for a place to stay for the night, my uncle’s inn is your best, well, only option.” The woman stopped talking, drawing Byleth’s attention away from her thoughts.

“Yes. That will be fine.” Byleth pulled her hood further down over her eyes in an attempt to signal that she was no longer interested in conversation.

Another grin. “Woman of few words, eh? Don’t worry, I can take a hint. I’ll buy you a pint at the inn to make up for talkin’ your ear off.” She chuckled and closed her eyes, not seeming to mind the rain in the least.

They continued the rest of the way in soggy silence.

[technoplaguearchive]

Cruel To Be Kind (1/4)

Midoriya just wants to help his long-time love interest get home, but gets a little more than he bargained for. Bakugou must come to terms with the fact that his way of dealing with stress isn’t working out and comes with some side-effects he hadn’t planned for. Both boys figure out that the only way through anything is honesty, with each other and themselves

Pairing: MidoriyaxBakugou / BakuDeku  Rating: Teen & Up Category: M/M Fandom: My Hero Academia | Boku No Hero Academia Originally Published: 2019/03/30 on AO3 Chapter: 1 of 4

Next

Pulsing lights. Pulsing beats. Pulsing bodies.

Bodies everywhere.

Turn to the left; people. Turn to the right; more people.

Blood pumping in time with every beat.

This wasn’t something he was usually into, but desperate times had called for desperate measures. The house had been silent, empty. He couldn’t stand it anymore and had fled, ran right to his friends when they’d called. Their shock would make this night worth it, he rarely came out with them.

The last time they’d all gone out together had been over six months ago and they’d all drank so much that each had determined it was an awful idea. He, however, hadn’t minded it quite so much. With as stressed as heroing made him it wasn’t a bad respite, and it hadn’t messed with his work the next day.

After that, it had become a weekly thing, but he kept it confined to his own house; he drank on the nights he didn’t have to work the next day and he used the day off to recover from any after effects. Even his worst hangover hadn’t been too awful, at least based on what the others had told him of their numerous hangovers. The vomiting was minimal, and the headache was tolerable: years of dealing with the never-ending stress stupid Deku caused him had apparently given him some sort of tolerance, or at least raised his pain tolerance threshold (one could argue that as both a good and bad thing).

Tonight though- tonight he needed to be out. He needed the crush of people that he usually hated and the smell of sweat that wasn’t laced with nitroglycerin. His apartment had started getting claustrophobic and Kirishima had started calling him a hermit and threatening to bring people over; an effective threat since Bakugou hated the idea of those loud idiots in his place.

The club is packed as he makes his way through the entrance, people elbowing him and rubbing on him as he pushes his way further in. The text he received from Kirishima indicated they were in the small balcony near the back. Leave it to that crew to be extra when they went out. He can see the balcony tucked away in a corner and sure enough, there’s a crop of bright red hair he can spot a mile away. There’s a familiar pink puffball beside it that can only be Ashido Mina, which isn’t surprising. Kirishima hardly went anywhere in public without her, she was like his damn security blanket. He would have speculated long ago they were dating if he didn’t know them as well as he did. As it stood Kirishima preferred being single and Ashido didn’t seem like she was ready to settle either… in fact, Bakugou couldn’t recall ever actually seeing her with someone and he was sure she would have blown up their annoying group chat with pictures if she was with someone.

He takes the stairs two at a time up to the balcony, deliberately being loud to draw the attention of the crew of idiots he sometimes called his friends (not that he’d ever be caught dead saying that out loud- especially not within earshot of them). When he reaches the top he’s greeted with not a single damn one of them even looking in his direction. So much for the shock value of him actually showing up, they’d gone and blown that fucking plan out of the water. Assholes.

“Tch.”

Kaminari is the closest to the stairs and the first to hear Bakugou’s angry scoff, meaning Bakugou gets the pleasure of seeing the blonde’s face pale at the noise and his yellow eyes widen in a mix of half terror-half shock. Bakugou merely raises an eyebrow and cocks a hip against the stair railing as he watches Kaminari start flailing wildly and hitting his companions to get their attention; Kirishima gets a smack to the head, Sero gets a shoe to the ass, and Mina gets slapped on the back during the freakout.

Kirishima, blessed ray of sunshine that is almost always too bright for Bakugou to handle, is the first to turn around to see what the hell the electric blonde is panicking about. His eyes settle on the grumpy blonde at the stairs and that smile shoots upwards to its megawatt intensity. Bakugou chooses to ignore how Kirishima’s eyes rake over his body from toe to head as he smiles. Kirishima’s little crush was known throughout the group and Bakugou was always glad that the red headed idiot never tried to pressure him. Kirishima wasn’t a bad guy, but there was no room for romance in making it to the top hero spot.

“Bakubro! You showed up! Wow!” His huge smile is blindly bright up close, causing Bakugou to squint as Kirishima wraps his huge arms around him. Five seconds of it is all Bakugou can take before he’s working his hands between them to push the other man away with a grunt. Kirishima, however, takes it in stride and spins around to beam that smile at the rest of the group. “Look, Ashido! Bakugou showed up! You were totally right.”

Ashido’s knowing look causes Bakugou to growl in her direction, a noise that’s drowned out in the already thumping bass pulsing through the club. “Of course, he came, sweetie. We asked nicely after all. Even Bakugou can’t stay away from us forever- “she shoots him another sly look that has his eyebrow twitching “-no matter how much he pretends he can.”

The effect is near instantaneous and predictable; Bakugou leaps across the small space with a finger in her face, steam all but pouring from his ears. “Listen, you little pink shit. I’ll show up whenever and wherever I damn well please. Keep your conspiracy theories out of my life.” For effect he jabs his finger against her nose then backs off, taking up his spot against the railing by the stairs once more. Ashido scrunches her nose at the feeling then shoots him a smile full of teeth, leaning back into a small table behind her. She’s not wrong but damned if he was going to admit it.

They’d all managed to stay in touch since UA and no matter how much he tried to ignore the group he always ended up back around them. The ‘BakuSquad’, as they called themselves, stuck together through it all. And while openly he admonished their stupidity, secretly he was at least a little glad they hadn’t abandoned him because of his personality. Kirishima, bless his big ass heart, to this day still was his self-proclaimed best friend and the one who always asked him to do things with the group. They all knew Kirishima was the only one who could laugh off Bakugou’s bad attitude.

Kirishima latches an arm behind Bakugou’s neck and pulls him in for a side-hug. Bakugou does his best not to blow the other male up, barely managing to hold in an explosion only because he knew the club would probably boot him for it. Kirishima flashes him another huge grin and then throws an arm into the air with a shout, causing the blonde to wince and glare. “The gang’s all here! Let’s get this party started!” He releases Bakugou in order to round up the rest of their squad, pulling everyone into a side-hug as he ushers them towards the stairs. Suddenly he stops and turns to address everyone with an air of unusual seriousness. “No one’s on deck tomorrow, right,” he asks with a somber face. Bakugou resists the urge to chuckle at the look, opting instead to smirk as everyone shakes their heads in an affirmation that no, they all indeed had off tomorrow. Kirishima’s resulting triumphant grin is infectious. “Perfect,” he yells, almost too loud, “then let’s go drink!”

He watches his four friends file down the stairs and start pushing towards the bar, opting to stay behind and take his rightful place in the corner seat of the balcony. It had the best view of the club and he could watch the door too. Kirishima had given him hell last time about taking the spot but once Bakugou gave him ‘the look’ he’d quieted right down. Ashido’s obnoxious pink hair and horns make her the easiest to track in the crowd, easier to see than even Kirishima’s tall circus he called hair. Most of the crowd seems to part easily to let the heroes through, some knowing who they are and others just moving due to the confident air the group exuded. Separately they were all nutcases, but together even Bakugou had to admit they looked like a formidable bunch.

Seeing them safely at the bar, he decides to focus his attention elsewhere. Red eyes scan the crowd with focused scrutiny, looking for any potential troublemakers, but seeing everything relatively calm he settles back into his seat and pulls his phone out, slouching down and bringing the device up to glare directly into his retinas. Recovery Girl had yelled at him in school about holding his phone so close, but he didn’t care; it kept most everyone out of his face.

His phone shows six e-mails, four unread text messages, one missed call (probably his old hag of a mother), and fifteen group chat messages.

“Haaa?!”

That log had been empty when he got in here, he had made sure of it. That meant those idiots were chatting through it AT THE FUCKING BAR. He cuts a glare around the phone screen to get a glimpse of the bar, confirming all four idiots had their faces also buried in their phones. Had they even picked up drinks?

Growling low he taps to open the messenger app to see what all the fuss is about. The messages are steadily rolling in, punctuated by pictures that are taking forever to load. He scrolls to the top of the newest messages and starts reading through, curious to see what they found so intriguing that it interrupted their night.

Six messages and one screenshot later he wishes he hadn’t looked; Stupid. Fucking. Deku. That idiot was on his way to the club as well, if the screenshot from Ashido was true. She had invited him earlier in the night and he had just confirmed an hour ago that he would ‘try to make it out’. Bakugou was wishing he wouldn’t try and would just not show up. He didn’t need the stress of dealing with the green haired freckled idiot’s mumbling and staring. He wasn’t dressed right to be seen by- Whoa, no, stop that right fucking there. He just didn’t need to deal with Deku, period. End of story.

Growling to himself he taps out a response in the chat;

‘Get the fuck back here with my drink and stop mooning over broccoli-head.’

The response from Kirishima is an immediate wink-emoji followed by ‘You know I only have eyes for you, Bakubro.’

Bakugou rolls his eyes and stuffs his phone into his pocket without responding. No need to encourage Kirishima’s flirting, he got enough as it was.

He can see Kirishima now pushing his way back through the crowd and is met with the red head’s shining eyes minutes later. Kirishima squats down in front of Bakugou as a servant would and offers him the drink; some colorful concoction that looked tasty (not that Bakugou would say that out loud, no need to ruin his contrarian image). A softly spoken ‘tch’ is all Kirishima gets as Bakugou scoops the drink away and takes a sip.

Shit tasted as colorful as it looked.

Bakugou shoots Kirishima a look over the rim of the glass, eyes hard. “You did good, hair for brains. Nice job.”

Kirishima’s answering smile is all teeth and he jumps from his spot on the ground to cheer. He does some weird shimmy-dance that Bakugou won’t admit he follows with his eyes. Look, Kirishima wasn’t totally awful looking and Bakugou did have eyes…. he just also didn’t have time for dating but that didn’t mean he didn’t LOOK sometimes.

As if catching it despite Bakugou trying to be subtle, Kirishima’s eyes glint and he reaches a hand towards his friend. “Wanna come dance with me? I know you’re gonna get moody when Midoriya shows up and- “

There was the downside to Kirishima; he couldn’t keep his mouth closed.

Bakugou growls at him and bares his teeth. “Don’t you dare fucking talk like Deku has any control over my life.”

Kirishima’s hands shoot up in surrender and he backs off. Honestly, he should’ve known better but the idiot never THOUGHT. Now he would sit here angry all night.

Everyone always swooned over Deku. It hadn’t changed in all their years together and Bakugou could not understand the overwhelming appeal. Sure, his dumb round face was kind of adorable and his muttering was occasionally endearing… but that was it. And how was it that everyone was drawn to him? There wasn’t a single person Bakugou knew that didn’t immediately run to Deku like he was the world’s greatest thing.

Kirishima is still staring at Bakugou with those big dumb sad eyes, so Bakugou relents and shrugs. “‘S whatever. Just shut up about fucking Deku.”

The redhead bobs his head quickly in affirmation and grins, knowing he’s forgiven. “So, do you want to come dance with me?”

There’s a hopeful glint in his eyes that Bakugou wants to ignore but can’t. When they were still in school, he would have been able to but the years had seen his attitude diminish to being able to be around people without biting their heads off- and as always Kirishima had always been an exception. His thick skin apparently also protected his feelings; he had never seemed to get too hurt at what the angry blonde said and had never taken his threats seriously.

“Tch. Yeah fine, whatever” he relents, tossing back the rest of the shitty colorful concoction in one large swig. Ugh, gross. But at least it was gone and now he could move on to something different. He sets the glass down and rises to his feet to peg Kirishima with a stare. “Get me something stronger and I’ll meet you down there with the idiots.”

Kirishima is visibly eager to please as he rushes down the stairs and pushes through the crowd, causing Bakugou to smirk. He could probably get the other male to bark like a dog if he asked with enough conviction. Eh, maybe another time. For now, he’d settle with the redhead being his drink-gofer and dancing partner….and maybe when Deku showed up he’d bounce before he had the chance to see everyone go gaga over the freckled jackass.

~~~~~~

The night sees him actually enjoying time with the group despite his outward protestations. Kirishima has jumped to get him drinks the three other times he’s asked, Deku has yet to show up, Ashido has all but draped herself over Sero (no surprise there,) and Kaminari is hitting on everything that is even mildly attractive (also not a surprise).

What is surprising is Ashido sauntering back into their balcony retreat an hour later with shots balanced in her hands and one, somehow, grasped between her teeth.

“I’m not drinking that one, I don’t know what your lips have been all over tonight.”

After Mina dislodges the glass, she gives him a wink and a sultry smile. “Aw sweetie, you’re just jealous they haven’t been all over you.”

Tiny explosions start popping in his hands at her words as he all but yells, “What did you just say to me, you bubblegum haired alien?!”

Kirishima jumps to grab his hands and keep him away from their friend. “She was joking, Bakugou! You know she was joking!”

With a huff, the angry blonde turns away and crosses his arms across his chest effectively tucking his hands away from causing a disaster. This seems to pacify Kirishima whose smile looks close to fracturing from the stress of having to manage the human equivalent of dynamite, both in personality and quirk. Bakugou isn't stupid though; he knows blowing shit up would get them kicked out and he's not going down that road again. There's already a string of boring-ass coffee shops that won't let him, or any of his group, back in due to him exploding several coffee cups after a stressful day and the baristas fucking his order up cause they were too busy staring or giggling.

Ashido’s snicker only infuriates the angry blonde more, causing him to step towards her with the intent to give her a blast to the face. He’s halted in his tracks by Kirishima’s hands against his chest, the large male physically blocking his advance towards their friend. When Bakugou looks up to question him all he can see is Kirishima’s smile, sharp teeth on full display. “Chill out, man. Lemme go get you another drink and you just- just relax, yeah?”

Kirishima is already backing away to the stairs by the time he’s done speaking. Bakugou wants to question the movement because the redhead didn’t even give him a chance to answer and just decided for him, something Bakugou isn’t overly fond of. Did he want another drink? Fuck yes. But he wanted a choice in the matter and not Kirishima running to grab one to pacify the situation. Bakugou rolls his eyes instead of snapping at his friend. “Sure, whatever. Not that colorful shit again though. Get me something strong.”

Kirishima nods enthusiastically as he bounds down the stairs and darts through the crowd slow with more agility than Bakugou knew he possessed outside of stopping villains and saving people. Color him mildly impressed. He’d be more impressed though when he saw what Kirishima brought back.

With his number one fan now out of the way, Bakugou takes up his seat again and snatches two shot glasses from the table Ashido had deposited them on. The first one down his throat burns. The second shot to go down doesn’t burn any less but it’s more pleasant now that he’s expecting it, however, that doesn’t stop the grimace that spreads across his lips as he swallows. No one could ever accuse him of liking the taste, not when his face gave away how he felt. No, Bakugou Katsuki drank to unwind. To forget. To stop being himself. To get out of his head for a few hours. And it always worked, right until the next morning when the alcohol was gone, and he had to sit there and contemplate swallowing more liquid fire or just drinking water and pretending like he didn’t hate himself.

Ashido’s voice floats by in a buzz, yapping away about a recent rescue she’d done and how she got to save a cute guy. Bakugou wasn’t paying too much attention anymore, instead letting his gaze wander aimlessly across the dance floor as he contemplated how much he could drink before the group left.

By his calculation, he’d have to stop sending Kirishima for drinks after this one or the redhead would get nosey and start up on his spiel of him maybe having a problem. He’d only had…. What, five so far tonight? Okay, maybe six if he counted the two shots as separate. And none of them had been particularly strong, props to Kirishima not knowing good shit from mediocre. The guy wasn’t a drinker and usually went with whatever the bartender suggested…. which was usually less hard liquor but cost more for being ’pretty’.

Kaminari flops unceremoniously down beside him and nudges his shoulder, jolting Bakugou from his reverie and earning a glare. Kaminari takes the glare in stride, more than used to it by now, and grins. He wiggles an eyebrow in Bakugou’s direction and jerks his head off in the direction Kirishima ran off to. “So, you gonna keep dragging Kiri around or are you actually considering dating him?” At Bakugou’s scoff and eye roll, Kaminari turns the jovial expression to one akin the look of a parent dealing with a naughty child. “Stop fucking with him, Bakugou. The guy likes you and will fall over himself to please you. You’re leading him on.”

This wasn’t a new conversation between them. Since high school, this had been a reoccurring issue that never ended up resolved. Bakugou wasn’t intentionally leading Kirishima on. Plain and simple; Kirishima knew Bakugou didn’t feel that way towards him yet he kept acting the same way, Bakugou knew Kirishima liked him and didn’t treat him any differently than he did before he knew. Their arrangement worked out.

“Shut up, Dunceface.”

“What are we talking about?”

Kirishima’s cheery voice cuts through and Bakugou is left wondering how long he’d been standing that close and how much had he heard. Hopefully, he hadn’t heard much, Bakugou didn’t think he could stand Kirishima’s pouty face if he had.

“Not shit. Mind your business you shark-toothed fuck.” The glare Kaminari shoots Bakugou is nothing short of withering but the angry blonde ignores it in favor of squinting at the drink Kirishima holds in his hand. “What’d ya get me?”

Kirishima blushes a little and shyly holds up the cup full of brown unassuming liquid. “I asked the bartender and they said it was Jack & Coke? It smells awful” he explains, wrinkling his nose in memory of the smell.

The entire group startles as Bakugou leaps for the glass and all but rips it from Kirishima’s hands. His lips close around the glass greedily and he starts swallowing in big gulps, eager to get the liquor into his system. So eager, in fact, that he doesn't hear Kirishima mentioning who he found at the bar or the newcomer watching him with wide worried eyes.

It's not until he sets the glass down half-empty that he realizes everyone is staring at him warily. It's a look similar to what one would give a wild animal they weren't sure would bite or flee. Lips tugging into a snarl he rounds on the group, “The fuck you looking at me for, assholes?”

A small, too familiar hand raises meekly from behind Kirishima in a half wave and Bakugou has all of two seconds to process who the green haired shortstack is stepping out from behind his overly large red headed friend.

Fuck. That was what the staring was for.

Bakugou drops back into his seat, a little too hard, and raises unsteady hands to rub his face. Okay maybe he’d drank that last one too fast. Because shitty Deku was standing there and when did he fucking get there and why was stuff  blurring at the edges and was Kirishima whispering? He swats a hand in Kirishima’s direction, grateful the other man understands when he hauls him to his suddenly unsteady feet. He had to get the fuck out of here, he didn’t want to deal with stupid Deku. That had been the plan; get out before Midoriya showed up and ruined everything.

Halfway down the stairs- when had he made the conscious decision to leave?- he realizes blearily he has a green haired follower. He picks up his pace as much as he can without stumbling and tries to lose the other man in the crowd. A girl dancing catches his eye and closes in on him, drink in her hand the only thing Bakugou has eyes for. He lets her in close then snatches it away, downing it in one large gulp and then spinning himself away to get lost in the crowd once more. The bright side is he can’t see Midoriya’s green hair anywhere now and that’s enough to ease the anxiety that had been slowly building in his chest since he noticed the freckled little freak upstairs.

So he lets his guard down and makes a wiggly beeline for the bar to grab another drink before he extricates himself from the situation.

One more shot. One more drink.

So what if he was realizing his vision was a little hazy at the edges now? So what if he may or may not be using the bar to keep himself from swaying a little right now? He’d be done after this next drink anyways and all would be okay. He wasn’t even as drunk as he usually got on nights off so this really wasn’t even a huge deal- or so he thought.

The bartender hands him his drink in exchange for cash and then motions behind him. Thinking he needed to move out of the way, and seriously fuck the bartender for telling him to move like that, he turns around on unsteady feet only to look down into a pair of vibrant green eyes set in grim determination.

“Fuck.”

[daydreamindollie]

Feast Your Eyes | k.nj x f.r

Pairing: k.nj x f.r

Genre: n a u g h t y....

Length: 3k

Quick Summary: The sensation it brought you to stare at his delightfully tensing, lean physique through the crack of his door - carelessly left ajar - was more than addictive. 

A/N: First of all, I really have to apologise because this is my first time writing something naughty and so close to smut. I had more planned but I was really unsure about how it would turn out so you could say that this is a little tester. If you guys like it or have any idea of how you want the fic to continue then don’t be afraid to tell me and I’ll get to work on, maybe, a part 2???? 

Constructive critisim is always helpful too as I am still working on my writing style. Thank you! 

Anyway, this was requested by a doll of an Anon. Thank you for the request Dollface, I hope this is to your liking. I apologise for the extended wait. Much love x 

W A R N I N G S: voyeurism, masturbation...nakednessssss...

There it was again...the groans and moans of your roommate - Kim Namjoon. 

This wasn’t the first time you had entered the modest space of your modern apartment, only to be greeted by the sinfully delicious sounds that your sexy, sharp roommate emitted when doing the deed, ‘alone’. You could deem this to be, perhaps, the sixth time already. It wasn’t a general, reoccurring event as those occurrences were spaced out over several months; lengthy weeks stretching the intervals between each one. Personally, you had wished for it to be a more frequent event. Having it be a rare circumstance gave you immoral desires but they can’t be helped. 

The sensation it brought you to stare at his delightfully tensing, lean physique through the crack of his door - carelessly left ajar - was more than addictive. 

‘He’s so beautiful’ was always the first thought that verbalised itself in your clouded mind. Everything else disappears and it’s just you and himhimhim. Biting your lip, you smothered a moan as the male, through the crack of the door, whimpered helplessly under the searing touch of red-hot pleasure. ‘How sexy can he get?’ was your second thought, drinking in the erotic expression he was shamelessly displaying in his demeaning condition. The next thought would be: ‘he’s so big...’ as your eyes made their usual route down, from his bliss-compressed countenance, down his (unfortunately) dressed torso, before greedily devouring the image of his solid member. The tip was a painful, swollen pink colour, supported by an impressive length that strained and pulsed with prominent veins. 

You licked your lips. ‘I wonder what it would feel like to trace those veins with my tongue...’. Sometimes, you couldn’t believe how vulgar your thoughts suddenly became at the sight of him in such a state. Every male would’ve gone through the same thing Namjoon was doing, but you know for a fact that he’s affecting you more than any other man could. It’s no surprise either, you’ve always been acutely aware that you’ve had this adoration towards him ever since the day you met. 

It all started based on his appearance. His hair always looked so much more well kept than yours, like fine, silk strands with the volume of fluffy clouds. Naturally, you would often find yourself wanting to comb your fingers through his mass of dyed locks. The skin he had, stretched over lean (but not over the top) muscles, was blemish free and smooth looking, igniting deep jealousy inside you. It was a serious offence as you are someone that’s constantly battling a moody epidermis; sprouting pimples here, there and everywhere, whenever possible. His eyes were gentle but fierce, his lips plump and kissable, a perfect combination to have for each minor but significant feature. Above all, however, was his voice, the pièce de résistance, so creamy-smooth, and possessing the texture of burnished satin. Subsequently, the two of you spent many times together, and you’ve slowly grown a fondness of his variable personality also: silly yet responsible, witty but also earnest, humorous and ethereal. A whole package that you had all to yourself, but only as a roommate. A fact you scoffed at. 

Were you ever going to get out of such a basic ranking? 

Dismissing that thought, you continued to indulge in the rare, but commonplace act Namjoon (Joonie) was participating in as a pool of stickiness accumulated at the flimsy fabric you had covering your weeping nether-regions. You hoped and wished that the sight would persist without ever ending. Nevertheless, such a fancy for an impossible deed was not permitted and you found yourself sighing in disappointment almost as heavily as your breathing became when ogling the episode that had played out before you. Joonie had met his end soon enough, sighing between laboured breaths upon shooting his load onto the sheets of his single bed. It was over far too soon. 

Suppressing the urge to complain openly, you quietly rushed to the front door in order to make it look as if you had just gotten back.

“I’m home!” you announced after opening and slamming the door from inside. 

“W-Welcome home!” there was a faint kerfuffle from the end of the hallway, tugging a smirk of mischief at your rosy lips as you imagined your sticky roommate scrambling around in order to look presentable. 

“What are you up to?” you hummed with innocent curiosity, already knowing the answer. 

“I’m about to take a shower!” 

“Oh alright! I’m starving so I’m going to cook!” making your way into the kitchen, you rummaged around, finding just about enough ingredients to make two servings of a decent meal, “Want me to make you something too?” 

“That’d be great! Thanks (Y/N)!” 

“No problem Joonie!” 

Saturdays were your respite. You would sleep in, share a large brunch with your coquettish roommate before utilising the rest of day’s hours, whether it be through binge eat whilst indulging in K-dramas, reading a book, getting lost in music and dance or going out with your girls. They were the days where the world was appointed to be your oyster. The former of those activities was a very favoured matter of business between you and Joonie so the two of you would, at least, watch a couple together, even if there was something urgent that either of you would have to do - watching K-dramas in each other’s company was always the most important on Saturdays. 

You’ve wanted to become more productive with your time, however, and had expressed this to Namjoon, who suggested limiting the time spent watching the dramas. 

“What are you going to be doing today?” Namjoon hummed curiously from across the table, he already knew the answer but wondered if you really were planning on doing something else. 

“Hmm...” you stopped for a moment of thought, “I have no idea!” you giggled, already adapting to the careless ambience of the day but leaving you open to your choices, earning a deep chuckle. The smoothness of the sound forced your crossed thighs to clench under the shocks of electricity that dared to strike and heat up your already melting core. It was a horrible habit for your brain to turn his chuckles into laboured moans that instantly generated heat deep within you. 

“You haven't decided whether or not you wanted to follow through with your pledge of productiveness then, huh?.” it was a playful jeer, you knew that but his eyes seemed somewhat predatory as he took a tantalising swig of his black coffee, allowing you to meekly watch; his jugular rocked back and forth upon the vertical length of his thick neck as a seductive gulp penetrated your sensitive hearing. More electrifying pleasure shot through you, sending your body jolting forward and almost hitting the underside of the table with your knee. “Is something wrong?” he quipped a curious brow as a teasing tongue peeked past two soft, rosy rims, lapping at the bitter residue upon the pinkness of his lips. 

“Oh, nothing. I actually just realised what I’ve wanted to do with my time.” you lied with a quivering tongue. 

“And what’s that?” he smiled thinly. 

“Binge eat through K-dramas!” you announce as he laughed heartily, “Care to join me in my new pledge of unproductiveness?” your eyes fluttered playfully in a nonverbal invitation. 

“I’ll have to take care of some things first but I’ll be sure to join you as soon as I can.” 

Suppressing a squeal, you allowed only your eyes to reflect the light of your excitement, “Great! I’ll make sure to get your favourite snacks too when I head out for a quick trip to the corner store, then.”

“Thanks.” 

After finishing up your brunch and helping to wash and dry the dishes, you quickly got ready for a step outside before making your way to the door with your keys and purse, where you announced your leaving. There was a brief, nonchalant response from Namjoon’s room, hinting at his current occupation. A trait you really admire about him - his dedication and smartness.

There were plenty of snacks to choose from when you arrived at your destination but you made sure to get an equal amount of yours and Namjoon’s favourites, landing you with a decent variety of sweet and savoury treats. Grinning to yourself, you rushed to pay for the refreshments piled up high in your arms and raced to your shared apartment, where you began setting everything up, understanding that Namjoon might extend his absence in your day-long session of K-drama watching.

He’s a very dedicated soul and you don’t want to get in between him and his studies, which were - basically - his passions. You still hope for his company as soon as possible though. It’s so much more enjoyable with him at your side; you can have someone to cuddle with for the times when you’d get sad or would genuinely crave the heat of another person. 

Like most of your previous sessions, you were reduced to a sobbing mess at times, brought up to hysterics at others, made fuming angry at particular characters that you hold a passionate hatred towards, whilst also being silently content at cute moments. Despite your enjoyment, however, your gaze would, more often than not, wander past the screen of the TV in order to face the clock hung up high. It’s late, really late, and yet, Namjoon still hadn’t shown up to fulfil his word. Granted, he had stepped out several times, seeking food or any cooling beverages, where you’d offer him a sample of your displayed snacks but that was it. There was a dwindling hope that grew weak inside you, optimising that the light meal you were able to offer the male would lure him out of the confines of his monopolising room. 

As the clock ticked past the latest hour and your final episode for the night came to an end, you began tidying up, throwing away empty packets of plastic and sweeping up stray crumbs. Banishing your dilating dismay at Namjoon’s broken promise, you realised that you needed a bath as you frowned at the settled sweat and dried tears caking your complexion. There was no urgency to wake up early for tomorrow, so you’d be able to wallow in a warm vanilla-scented bubble bath before going to bed and sleeping dreamlessly. 

Humming softly to yourself, you purged your mind of everything that had to do with your roommate, succumbing to a state of passive aggressiveness, and set about preparing your bath. 

As the harsh rapping of lukewarm water pounded against the tub, slowly climbing up the bath’s volume, Namjoon was snapped awake, blinking his eyes with exponential fullness. Coming to his senses and adjusting to his surroundings, curses spitefully clicked his tongue against rows of pearly-white teeth when staring up at the tired clock - ticking away precious seconds, minutes and hours. 

He must’ve fallen asleep when going over his material for the final time. There was a genuine intention in his promise because the K-drama session was made into a ritual between the two of you. It was a practice that you both would participate in (every Saturday) and after months of a constant streak, that you had encouraged and made into a habitual occurrence, he had been the first to break it alongside a promise that he made empty. 

Cautiously stepping into the small living room, Namjoon expected to see you, asleep on the sofa as it was your habit to end up sleeping as a way of concluding the session. Instead, he found the space to be vacant of anything: of you, of store-bought snacks and piled-high CDs. You’re definitely going to be having a grudge against him and he hated that. You were, in some ways, closer to him than any of his other 6 friends and the two of you also live together, it’s only going to be tense and awkward if he doesn’t apologise with absolute validity - which he’s sure he’ll be able to express because he was an authentic man.

With the sound of running water, he had been minorly aware of, the male soon came to the conclusion that you’re probably taking a bath and decided to apologise when you were finished; he didn’t want this to extend into the next day so he’ll wait up for you to finish. 

Slowly dipping into the comforting water, you breathed a sigh and began playing around with the bubbles. Humming filled the air again as you lathered your body - anything to keep your mind from straying out of it’s fixed path of resentment, but you were always thinking of the male, no matter what you did. He had taken over your mind with his cute-ass dimple smile, goddamn velvet voice and his scandalous yet sophisticated demeanour. 

You moaned as wandering hands trailed down your curves to roughly caress your sensitivity. Biting your lip, you imagined his proficient hands replacing your incompetent ones and shamelessly wonder about what magic he’ll be able to cast. Surely, one that matched his unique appeal. Whimpering from your dainty fingers teasingly poking at your entrance, you imagined his dominance and tongue, he’d undoubtedly have you begging from a simple touch and the thought set the deepest pits of your dripping cavern on fire. 

How disgraceful...

Before a hand could curve over and fondle the eminence of your breasts, the angel on your right shoulder took control and went to unplug the tub for several moments, stopping halfway just to refill the bath with cold water. That'll teach you a lesson and keep you from your arousals. The bath wasn’t as enjoyable but, at the very least, you were able to calm down. 

It wasn’t until past midnight that you decided to step out in only a small towel and with your hair up in a turban that was already getting to work on absorbing the unwanted moisture in your hair. 

In a twist of fate, you walked straight into the person you had sworn to distance yourself from. With a shriek of surprise, you jumped back, almost crashing into an antique vase that housed an array of flowers atop an elegant, polished table. Fuelled by adrenaline, Namjoon snatched a hold of your forearm and pulled you into his chest, saving you but resulting in the two of you toppling over and into an immodest position - you hovering above him as your towel-turban came undone.

With baited breath, you stared down at the man you’ve mentally claimed to be the world’s sexiest creature; someone you’ve admired greatly for his success in life; a guy with surprisingly, rather similar interests to your own; someone that you’ve grown disreputable fantasies over and a man that you’re unravelled towel has forced you to show your naked body to. 

“Damn...” he cursed, biting his lip with eyes sinfully wandering soft curves. 

Never has it ever been this awkward between the two of you, even when you found out that you’d have to be roommates in a quaint apartment just at the edge of campus. It was fathomable, the petty inconvenience, but that was a time where you weren’t only shoulder-to-shoulder with vex towards the male’s broken promise but were now attempting to repress the redness of embarrassment that kept trying to dominate the hue of your cheeks. 

“I-I’m sorry about yesterday (Y/N).” he mused with timid sincerity over your plate of breakfast. As much as you’d love to discuss his atypical display of personal defect the previous day, you’d much rather avoid the topic. 

“Y-yeah...” you forced through clenched teeth before getting up and making your way to the door with your body fully dressed for your part-time job. Upon slipping your shoes on, you made your usual announcement: “I’m off.” 

Namjoon stared at the unfinished, barely touched plate of breakfast he had worked so hard in making, your plate and his were practically the same in the unwanted condition of their contents. He wasn’t in the mood to eat unless you were consuming a meal your stomach was usually more than greedy to digest. Who was he to think that you would forgive him over a simple plate of breakfast? He wasn’t even a good cook - the two of you knew that - and upon sampling a bite of what he had made, there was an instant wince at the blandness and odd texture.

“Fuck..me...” he cursed breathlessly, only cursing himself further when he helplessly allowed his mind to have devilish thoughts over last night’ s occurrences. 

Today, you were getting off work early, it was an offer your boss had given you a week ago when praising your high-level of service, at the time, it was an offer you didn’t dare decline but, now, under your current circumstances, you’d much rather not go home. There was nothing for you to do though; your friends were either working or hitting the books. 

...Perhaps Namjoon isn’t at home and maybe he’s at the library studying. 

Remaining sanguine, you slowly made your way home, walking slower than your average walking speed and possibly irritating some people in the process. Fuck them whispering about your slowness. You weren’t in the mood today so they can go suck it. 

When you finally reached your door, you silently stepped inside and crept through the halls whilst whispering out to a person that you’re hoping isn’t there. 

“Namjoon?” you called softly.

“Ahh~” 

This was odd. 

He already had a private session only a few days ago and he was already at it again, usually, he would be sated enough to last several weeks but apparently not this time - you wonder why that is. 

Your mind completely disregarding the events of last night, you made your way through the narrow hall once more ending at Namjoon’s door and your eyes immediately widened at the fact that he had been cautious enough to have the door shut completely. This was very very odd. 

What’s gotten into him?

“(Y-Y/N)~” he panted as your mouth parted in disbelief. “Fuck- baby~AH!”

Never before had the touch of magma slicked your nether lips so- 

Many times you’ve imagined him moaning your name and now that he has, all you want is moremoremore...

Again, if you guys want a part 2 or something, please say something. Or if you have any ideas of what I should happen next, message me! I just might include your fantasies *winkwonk* 

BUT, if you don’t like it then tell me as well - as long as it’s constructive please - just go easy on me; it’s my first smutty-ish fic. 

Thank you Dolls! 

masterlist

[lady-dusk-balmung]

Sanguine Waltz (Dusk’s Daily Routine )

MUSIC

White satin gloves with thin metal and leather linings were pulled over her dangerous razor-like claws before the delicate white silks and satins were brought to drape about the perfection of her Duskwight form. Laces pulled tight against her pale skin to bring the corset that might tighter around her waist and neck. She found a kind of joy in putting on the master creations of someone so valuable. Otto Vann had spent a great deal of time garbing her in the highest fashions Ul’dah could offer, she looked a vision of the monetary life. Slipping from her seclusion, she greeted the warm coastal sun of Limsa Loma. It was not very often that Lady Dusk was seen during the day, however, as of late her interests required her to be more available. It had become something of a routine at this point. Making her way to the Drowning Wench in Limsa where she would obtain customer requests, of course, a smile and wink given to the bartendress before she headed down to the Hawker’s Alley where she would always meet a young Miqo’te female. They always walked to the Mealvaan’s Gate discussing things without a word spoken allowed. Lady Dusk kissed her on both cheeks before turning and leaving the girl there. Lady Dusk would then transverse in her own manner to Ul’dah, where she would spend the rest of her day. Today was no exception save for the fact that her thoughts were lingering on a dream.   The early rays of morning streaked across the desert gem of Ul’dah. The streets were already quite busy with the flow of people moving from shop to shop. The music rose from the ruby exchange while dancers began their swaying and twirls. Lady Dusk held a bright dreamy smile on her face as she walked through the streets, bowing her head in silent greeting to those who greeted her. Some of the faces becoming more and more familiar as the days went on. She made her way through the Golden Court, throwing in a single gil into the fountain for good luck before she would make her way to her first stop. The Alchemists' Guild. The sound of bubbling, crackling and the clink of glass against metal greeted the pale woman garbed in white as she entered through the heavy doors. She bowed her head in greeting to the woman behind the guild’s desk before she made her way down to a chalkboard that had been reserved for her. She stood there for a great deal of time looking at the theory upon the board. Words are written in a language that would appear as gibberish to most that saw it. Her gloved hand brought to her lips as she thought for a moment then shook her head. Her index finger dragged across a line that linked one solar body to another. Turning she looked over the shoulder of a female Hyur who was working away. Chemicals bubbled and slithered through winding tubes to beckers elsewhere.  The woman didn’t even look at her, as she raised three vials over her head. One red, one black and one bright blue. Dusk raised an eyebrow and then took the vials with a bow of her head. One by one, she raised the vials and examined them through the light for color and consistency. “Animal toxin with the aetherical element as discussed?” Dusk asked the woman, who promptly slammed her quill down on the table in frustration. Dusk smirked with a slight wave of her hand. “My apologies. I will see you tomorrow.” Dusk pursed her lips from letting a chuckle. With a wave of her hand, the vials seemingly disappeared and Kyt continued her morning stroll. Winding side streets brought her to the large black doors that stood as a testament to the grandeur of The Ossuary. She always smirked a little at the irony of such a place existing here. The darkness of its heart within a city that was said to be a gem. None the less she passed through the doorway, her white silhouette not exactly blending into her surroundings. A few paces within, she knelt at the great statue of Nald'thal. Her cowl brought over her colourless strands to hide her head in respect to the deity worshipped there. However, she was not there to worship. A small Lalafell garbed in dark red robes came and placed his hand upon the back of her head as if blessing her. A sleight of hand was conducted as the black vial appeared in her hand and offered it to the man in exchange for a piece of parchment no bigger than a single gil. Lady Dusk bowed her head and then stood to tower over him. “May the Darkness Embrace.” She cooed bowing once more before leaving.

MUSIC

Her mind wandered again as she continued her walk toward the Platinum Mirage. People smiled as walked by, and for the most part, she gave them a bow of the head in silent greeting. Her slow and purposeful steps glided across the stones as if she was walking to an unheard melody. A smirk on her face, hidden from time to time until she stopped at the doorway to the Arena. A miqo’te male with a kind of clipboard leaned against the cold stone, his eyes shut as if utterly bored. That was until his nose flared and the familiar scent of blood and lilies filled his nose. He scrambled to stand straight and then bowed his head, his ears wilting slightly. “Good morning, my Lady Dusk.” his words purred out in an overly showmanship way, to which of course Lady Dusk sighed and then bowed her head in greeting. It would seem that she saved this man for last every day because it was a challenge in of itself. Her normal carefree attitude shifted in a blink of an eye as if all the tension built up in her neck and she became stiff. He, on the other hand, was ecstatic to see her. His tail bushed and twisted this way and that as he spoke in the same overly flattering way. “You are as radiant as ever. You shame the rays of the sun and shine as the true gem of Ul’dah. Simply a breathtaking.” He rolled his R’s and bowed with a flourish of his hand until his tail came to curve around his forearm like the handle of a cane.   Lady Dusk pursed her lips and canted her head slightly to his words.”You are far too kind. Do you have what I requested?” Her tone that of feigned pleasantry while lacing with annoyance. It was not so much that the flattery offended her, it was that it was a show that she endured every morning for the last month. She had come to a sort of acceptance of his nature. He was a purveyor of talent within the arena. A flare for making almost anything seem divine. A silver tongue laced in honey fed words. “You wound me, madame!” He feigned a pout and stood tale with his chin raised to look up to her. His voice began to rise in the announcer fashion of a ring leader.  “How could I deny the Lady of the Dusk what pleases her?” He twirled about and flared his jacket’s lapels as he mocked a sort of waltz about her. “I am many things my Lady, but a man without his word?” He shot her a look and then jumped onto a nearby barrel. Lady Dusk hid her head and the rolling of her eyes. “ Tragedy befalls my beating vessel that plays to the whims of this soothsayer..” He gestured with his raised palm to her as he spoke out to the city streets. Some people stopped in their steps to look at the pair while others ignored his usual boisterous display. “She denies me the sweet justice of taking my heart to her lips. I will waste away never knowing the love that would be of the fruit of the gods… “ He fell to his knees and then leapt off the barrel and bowed to her producing a rolled scroll held tightly in his tail, raised to for her to take it. “.. all because she did not put her faith in the right man.” His words became more hushed at last and he winked at her.   If Lady Dusk could blush or redden in the face due to anger, she would have at that moment, however, her pale skin did well to hide it. Her nose flared at the display as she did not move, but rather allowed her eyes to follow him. Her ears flicking to the sound of his voice. Her silver hues darkened the more he continued, her nose flared, her gloved hands brought to cup one another to keep herself from lashing out at him. She had dealt with men who enjoyed spectacles, even a rather devious creature who enjoyed the game of. This man, however, took it to a whole new level. Instead of being simply offended by her question, he had decided to make a rather flamboyant example of her. When he finally came to bow before her and raised up the scroll in which she was referring, licked her lips and slowly slid it from his tail. “I will be sure to not misplace my faith in the future.” Her silken words sung from her lips as her gloved fingers traced the texture of the scroll. “Of that I am sure my Lady Dusk.” He smirked and stood tall again. “Though one would be more persuaded to render the infraction as a distant memory if the Lady would reward this lowly man with a kiss?” His head turned and he offered her his cheek while dragging his claw against his fur.  He looked to her face that held not a hint of amusement. “No? Well, you can not blame me for trying. I will not admit defeat, however.” He bowed his head and held out his palm. “Yes.. I can.” She retorted and slipped the man the bright blue vile and tapped the glass. “I am sure you will see that he gets this.” She bowed her head and waved the scroll at him as she turned to leave. “And there she goes ladies and gentleman…..  the starlight to my night. I will never stop trying my Lady Dusk!” He called out after her. She looked over her shoulder at him and gave a slight shake of her head. He pursed his lips and bowed in full fashion from the waist, returning his tail to rest over his arm.

So it went that her day was very much the same as the day before. Perhaps with more theatrics than she had anticipated. It was for this reason that the Mirage was always the last stop before she made her way to the Sands and her usual table. A needed respite from dealing not only with him but the many intricacies of her network that she didn’t trust anyone else. She did it in plain sight with little regard if she was being followed or not. Each gear worked independently of one another and she knew all too well that it would be beyond the intelligence of most. Taking her seat at her usual table centred in the middle of the Sands, Lady Dusk unrolled the parchment she had received. A list of names and entries, their skill sets, choice of materia and the master of their employ if there was one. She was looking for something rather specific but tilted her head at a strange array of materia listed. Her gaze narrowed for a moment and then shook her head as if to dismiss the idiocy of someone who was clearly going to die within the arena for their choice. “Limbo… dancing..  Yes.. well we won’t be wasting time or resources on you.” She smirked and then reached in her dress to pull out the red vial.. it was gone. Her eyes widened as she felt over her corset, the folds of her dress and was about to stand when a cup of tea the color of blood was placed before her. The timber of the voice that followed was familiar but not easily placed. The way he spoke held a tone that was full of a deeper knowing. One that would have unsettled most, but it did not hold malice, more a curiosity. “Lady Dusk.. I do hope you forgive me for taking the opportunity to serve you, your Sanguine Tea.” She didn’t look up right away. Instead, she looked at the fingers that held the fine filigreed cup with the utmost care. Leather gloves with the fingers cut out to allow freedom and dexterity, the hem of a dress coat that did not fit with the gloves in which he wore. Slowly she looked up and saw the emerald mismatched hues. It was clear at that moment that he was a hyur. One she didn’t know, but his voice was still all too familiar. It was also clear that he had been following her closely enough to take the vial from her. Which of course meant he knew how to get it. This alone was alarming enough for her to bow her head but not say anything. She didn’t need to say anything as he dragged a chair to sit awkwardly too close, and spoke again. “We have a great deal to discuss.. you and I.” @nigheandorcha

[the-canary]

Hunger - B.B

Summary: Being at a wedding should be a happy occasion, but not if you're constantly reminded about why your soulmate doesn't love you back. (Soulmate AU! Reader/Bucky Barnes)

Word Count: +2.8K

Masterlist

A/N: i got the idea from an earlier challenge i did, but i didn’t get the prompt specifically for this. i tried to ignore the idea but this is what i get for listening to florence and the machine, so i suggest listening to "hunger" while reading this. there are some mentions of anxiety and body image issues as well, so please thread with caution. 

Please enjoy and feedback is always welcomed.

“I don’t wanna be with you,” his words sting and your heart stutters shut,”I don’t need this.”

Bucky expects you to scream at him, but maybe he doesn’t know you that well and he just lost his chance. Because all you do is take let a shuddering breathe and remain silent, it was the best way you could handle anger, before dropping your hand and hiding the marking once more.

“I don’t hate you, James,” you murmur softly, like you trying to placate a small child, because you know what he is trying to do. It had taken a long time, but you can read certain parts of him easily especially his self-loathing, “But, you deserve the world, even if it isn’t with me.”

J.B.B

J.B.B

He had only seen the marking once, over a year ago, but he always wondered if it burned when he was looking at you, like the old wives’ tales he used to hear back in the 40’s -- ones he tried his hardest to not believe due to the lack of initials on his own left wrist. However, you don’t seem to notice him, as you keep dancing with Sam on the dance floor in a pink dress and a golden jewelry that were covering your right wrist, a huge smile on your face -- of course who would be sad in a wedding? Well, James Buchanan Barnes could be as you turned around to start dancing some soft rock ballad with Tony, your former boss and the groom of the wedding. It wasn’t often the Avengers could have a respite, and everyone --well mostly everyone-- was taking advantage of it.

“Maybe, you should try talking to her,” Bucky doesn’t need to turn around to know who is reprimanding him, Steve had being doing so since the very beginning, “I’m sure she’s never hated you, Buck.”

“It’s not that,” he insists because by now he was learned that you aren’t one for hatred, but for self-deprecation and avoidance. He hadn’t gotten more than a few words with you since the incident, “It’s never been that.”

“You’ve been trying to protect her, huh?” Steve takes the words right out of his mouth, because all this avoidance and dancing around the issue of being with the one that was supposed to be only for him is really his form of protecting you -- from HYDRA, from the new enemies that came with being an Avenger, but most of all himself because he couldn’t be that charming young man that had secretly longed for his perfect soulmate and a white-picket fence. He didn’t deserve any of that.

“Yeah, Stevie,” Bucky draws out before taking another swing of whiskey, wishing he could get drunk as he watches an unknown dark-haired man move in and try to dance with you. You’re flushed and all smiles as you accept, and Bucky barely takes notice of the cracking noise the glass begins to make.

“Well, you’re kind of messing up,” his best friend remarks like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, but all he can really do is shake his head. Bucky doesn’t find it in himself to answer, instead just letting out a small hum of acknowledgment because there must be something wrong in Stevie’s head if he thinks one magical night will suddenly change all the damage he had caused in the year since that revelation, since he learned he was actually lucky enough, but some strange fate, to be bestowed with such a wonderful woman as a soulmate.

“Ya know, your soulmate isn’t supposed be the one that hurts you the most,” Steve murmured softly, like he’s talking from experience before leaving his oldest friend to go back to meet his own date.  

“No good punk.”

It’s one of those rare events that Pepper Potts and Stark Industries has set up for the Avengers to visit a local hospital in the center of the city. Hang out, take some pictures and everything should be fine except everything isn’t “fine” for Bucky as some parents seems apprehensive to let their children near him and the the loud noises are starting to be a bit to much for him. He takes an unsteady breathe and starts to feel a comforting sensation blooming underneath his rib cage. He opens his eyes to see you staring at him with that look asking are you okay?

Bucky can’t help but nod as you return the gesture, but what takes him off guard for the moment is you walking closer to him. His heart starts beating a little faster because you haven’t talked since the incident and of course you wouldn’t do it here cause you’re a damn professional -- he had seen that in the time he has known you. There are a million thoughts running through his head, but they all stop when you smile politely and the small, dark-haired boy in front of him.    

“Okay, sweetheart,” you crouch down to the boy’s height as his bright eyes look at the former Winter Soldier, “We’re here, wanna tell Mr. Barnes what you told me?”

“You’re my favorite Avenger!” the child yells out and it takes a moment for Bucky to realizes what he just said, “And your arm is so cool, especially since…”

“You can do it,” you hum out softly and touch the small child’s head to console him a little. Blue eyes look at you in amazement and back to the little boy as he rolls up his long sleeve shirt to show a prosthetic running from just below his elbow.

“You’re just like me,” the child grins and Bucky is stunned into silence before he keeps talking to the kid the introduces himself as Jason. More children come along and Bucky finds it a little hard to keep up with all of them, as they pull him away towards the activities he can’t help but look in your direction, as you were a proud smile that makes your eyes crinkle a bit more the usual before a woman comes up to thank you.  

It’s another hour of watching you make rounds greeting certain people throughout the room that you finally decide to take your seat not to far away from the center table. There’s a tight feeling in his chest as he watches you take deep and steady gulps of air, as your hands tighten into fists for a moment. He remembers once how at awe he was with the woman that could be considered the now Mrs. Stark’s right-hand woman. However, he knew better than that now, Bucky that there were things that kept you up at night and work through morning. You feared never being perfect enough, and it had taken you a long time to accept this current version of yourself.

“I used to starve myself all the time when I was younger,” he remembered overhearing you talking with Wanda once, your voice cracked and raw from a recent breakdown, because even if he didn’t have your initials on his skin, the pain glowed brightly within his chest, “I wanted to be perfect when I found him. I took me so long to realize that it didn’t matter...that he would love me no matter what, but it still didn’t fucking matter in the end...I’m always alone in the end.”

It had been only then that Bucky saw a change in your personality because while you were still soft and polite, there weren’t any longing glances at his direction anymore. You didn’t talk to him any longer than necessary and usually it was only with someone else in the room. You acknowledge him, but Bucky grew painful aware of the fact that you didn’t need him to live your life. It hurt him so much, but watching you from afar talking about all the places you have gone to and the people you had met, Bucky couldn’t help but feel proud for you.

He watches you stand up and grab another champagne flute from one of the many waiters, as you turn and smile at Steve and his date. However, all your attention turns to Tony as he stands in front of everyone with Pepper besides him, and in all honest it’s probably the happiest you has seen both of them in all of your years for personally working and knowing them. It made you happy that through all their trials and tribulations, they had never given up...that they always gave each other a chance.

You chug down the champagne as Tony begins to speak. However, you’re not really paying attention until he gets to the middle of his speech.  

“...We all have a hunger, a deep longing that we call loneliness and a lot people try different ways to fill it up -- drugs, drinking, women, power. You name it and I’ve probably tried it,” Tony laughs as the room stays silent, “But filling up that hole isn’t a temporary thing, it’s about constantly loving someone and working to be worthy in their eyes, but also being there when they need you. It’s taken me a long time to learn this, but I couldn’t ask for a more wonderful woman at my side to teach me all that and more.”

Tony turns to look at Pepper who is rubbing away the tears in the corners of her eyes before its gets any worse. Blue eyes glance around for a moment to see you standing near the garden’s entrance way, clapping slowly to Tony’s speech. He can almost see a glimmer of ache in your eyes before they turn to steel once more. You begin to head out as the festivities start again, and something in Bucky’s mind clicks.

Maybe, you were getting tired of being strong all the damn time too? You both struggled with a lot, but wouldn't it be better to be together than hurting each other all the time, even if it was inadvertently. It had to be one of the reasons soulmates were created in the first place, right?  Bucky curses his own stupidity and that Tony Stark made him realizes all that, though he would personally take that little piece of information to his grave.

It’s Friday night and instead of going out without your friends, like you had promised you were catching up on paperwork two weeks ahead of time in the Avengers’ kitchen, though only Steve probably knew why you had stayed -- Bucky had come back from a mission and he wasn’t looking so good. The burning feeling of your mark only confirmed your theory. It took all your paperwork for the week and two episodes of your favorite mini-series for the clock to hit 2 am and the screams began like clockwork. There was a deep ache in your chest at the sound and as much a you wanted to run to his room, you knew it wasn’t necessary -- you weren’t necessary.

You see Steve leave his room from the vantage point that you from the kitchen and begin to set up within the time limit that the two of them stay within Bucky’s room before they leave to take his mind off of something else. You set the electric tea kettle and get his favorite flavor and mug, alongside some sugar and honey since Bucky likes to alternate between what he likes to use.

A chill grips your heart for a moment and you know you are running out of time, you place a spoon down and quickly grab your things before running back to your office.

“Come on, Buck,” Steve motions his shaken friend into the kitchen. The blond sees the set is already prepared and he can’t help but smile for a moment as his oldest friend lets out a whimper at the sound of soft footsteps leading you away from him.

Bucky walks outside the lavish country mansion to see you sitting in one of its many gazebos overlooking a pond. The summer air is cool and breezy and the stars are shining brightly, but a suffocating feeling that he hasn’t felt in a long time begins to make his ribs constrict in pain. He had only felt this pain once before than was more slightly more than a year ago. He sees that your shoulders are hunched towards your body and wonders if you have been crying. He takes a see as you turn around to look at him with a defeated loon on your face.  

“What do you want?” is the only you manage to get out, as you rubs your hands across your eyes to stop the few stray tears from ruining your makeup.

“I wanted to talk,” Bucky wrings his hands together in momentary anxiety but takes your silence as a signal to continue, “I know it’s been a long time, but I still feel like I need to explain why I did what I did a year ago, and maybe even make amends.”

You stay quiet and keep watching him with those pretty eyes of your and then he starts talking.

“I just want you to know that I’ve been waiting decades for you, sweetheart,” there’s a desperation in his voice that matches the look you’re giving him and he can’t help but get a little choked up at the thought that you really were made just for him, “If it had been 70 years ago, I would have given you the everything I could, but I’m not that boy anymore. I’m dangerous and there are people after me all the time. It would kill me if something happened to you.”        

“So you’re trying to protect me?” you scoff at the notion, as Bucky frowns “As much as I appreciate the thought, Barnes. I’ve worked with Tony fucking Stark since before I met you, since the Vanko incident and I’ve been through a whole lot more. So, don’t make up excuses about protecting me when you’re just trying to hide to save yourself.”

“What do ya mean?” he asks even though he already knows the answers.  

“I feel your emotions half the time, ya know?” you explain hotly, as he rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, “That you’re not good enough, that you don’t deserve any of the good things that might come your way.”  

“I--” he starts speaking, but you cut him off.

“I wasn’t lying when I said you deserve the world,” you whisper softly, and Bucky knows that you have always meant it, but you aren’t going to be so lenient with him either.

“I used to do a lot of things in order to stave off my loneliness, James. I’ve been alone for a long time and I’ve gotten used to it, so don’t come asking to be part of my life only to walk away when it feels convenient for you. Do you understand me?”

“I know… and I’m so sorry,” he scoots closer until you are sitting on a hair’s breadth from each other. There is a tired look in your eyes, as you push a strand of hair behind your ear and Bucky’s right hand twitches because he wishes he could be doing that, and a lot more, at the moment instead.  

“I never needed you to be sorry,” you declared and his eyes go from staring at you to staring at the floor because he knew you didn’t need him at end of the day (who did?), but your next words stop him “Just be there.”

“W-hat?” is all he can say because he was surely expecting another type of reaction from you.

“I don’t care about the Winter Soldier. I don’t wanna know about the war hero, James Buchanan Barnes,” you pause, grabbing his scruff and pulling him dangerously close to you,”They’re all apart of you, yes but I wanna know about the Bucky here and now. Just be my Bucky.”

“I wanna try. I swear,” he presses his forehead and you can’t help out but let out a tiny sob at his declaration.  

“Slow and steady, then?” your eyes flutter to meet his bright and hopeful blue ones.

“Slow and steady, doll,” he smiles, eyes twinkling as he places his hands on your hips. The two of you get up slowly, not wanting to part, and sway slightly for a moment, Bucky looks up above at the night sky and tries to imprint the moment in his mind -- the one that he has waited so long for. That is until your sudden laugh catches his attention.

“I fucking hate you, old man,” you hit his right shoulder affectionately, as you keep staring at him with those expressive eyes that show him nothing but love and adoration “Making me wait so long.”

“Technically, I’ve waited longer,” he remarks shyly, as your eyes grow over suddenly remembering such a fact.

“Well, shit. You’re right,” you keep laughing as Bucky spins you around, the lights are spinning as you get slightly dizzy from all emotions running through your body, but all that seems to stop when he places a soft kiss on your lips.

“And I’m done waiting, doll.”

“Good, good. Me too, ya big idiot.”

[synful-seductions-blog]

Heated Problems (Blake x Yang)

This is the first ever actual piece of writing I’ve done that’s actually fanfiction, so I hope it turned out well. I also just wanted to say that if you have an idea for a story, RWBY or not, I’m also accepting those kinds of prompts as well! <3 

Heat always had a way of striking at the most inopportune moments, or at least it had always felt that way to the Faunus member of the RWBY team, Blake. Usually the Faunus students of Beacon Academy would be granted a leave of absence to allow them to wait out their week of intense desires and frustration however they may choose. Blake was a special case however, being as not even her team had found out about her little secret. The reserved and quiet female would try her hardest to keep it that way too, until she was ready to tell them all.

    This of course made it hard for her to ‘alleviate’ certain feelings during her week of heat. She didn’t relish lying to her friends, but she’d always believed that it would be better than the alternative. It wasn’t uncommon for Blake to slip out from the dorm at all hours of the day to find a nice quiet place and give herself over to the building sensations only to return and have to sate her primal feelings again in a few more hours. Misery would be an apt way to describe the twisted mix of pleasure and annoyance that followed her closely every cycle.

    It always began the same way as well, assaulting her in the dead of night while she should have been asleep. It had a particularly nasty habit of hijacking whatever nice dream she was having and turning it into a sweaty and frantic fantasy that would leave her to awaken with damp panties and agonizingly sensitive nipples. So it had been previous nights and it was this time as well, the resident ninja of the team cursed below her breath as she slipped from the twisted mess of blankets she called a bed.

    Each step away from her bed on shaky legs was an annoyance as her juice-slicked thighs caressed each other, reminding her of the erotic nature her latest dream had taken on. Blake only spared a quick glance at her teammates before she slipped out of the dorm room and into the quiet corridor.

This is such a pain. It’ll screw everything up if I just jump her like that!

    Even giving the notion a moment’s thought caused a pang of need to well up from within the feline Faunus’s stomach. The latest victim of her heat-riddled mind had been Yang, the boisterous and loud blonde bombshell of team RWBY. She knew it was wrong to think about her friends that way and that in all likelihood it was just her heat talking, but she couldn’t help but tremble every time the blonde popped into her head.

    Normally her willpower would have stopped her from acting on such a primal and powerful need, but something about her heat that night left her with such a powerful urge that she couldn’t help but give in. Before she had a chance to weigh the consequences of her actions, a hand had slipped into her damp bottoms and her other was busy attacking her sensitive breast. As her fingers slowly curled inside of her heated core, the feline Faunus had to bite down on her bottom lip to muffle a throaty moan.

I want her…I need her to take me…

“Yang…”

“Blake?”

”Fuck me…… Please…”

“I need it… so bad… it’s hot…”

    In her frantic fingering and heated masturbation session, she hadn’t been aware that the blonde had actually been right in front of her. Another thing she failed to realize is that she had intermittently been talking out loud, for any and all students and faculty to see, had they walked by. In fact, the flustered female was only finally snapped out of her fantasizing by the feeling of a warm hand lightly resting against her forehead.

“That’s quite a way to get a girl’s attention, hot stuff. You’re burning up by the way, you okay?”

    For the first time since waking up, Blake laid her eyes upon the blonde, admiring her smile if only for a moment before her rational mind caught up with her. Struggling to pull her hands away from her own body, Blake’s blissful expression became one of shock as the weight of the situation hit her.

“I…uhh…needed…air?”

“Mhm, you sure look like it.”

    Despite having caught her Faunus friend in such an intimate situation, her cheery nature and vibrant personality was already managing to put Blake at ease, if only a little bit. Slowly pulling her fingers free from her momentarily forgotten sex, the black-haired feline can’t fight the small moan that slips from her parted lips. Before she has a chance to wipe her digits clean on the already messy fabric of her panties, her hand is intercepted and brought up in front of her face.

“Wha…y…Yang?”

    The dark-haired female muttered softly as she was suddenly made to feel very uneasy by the closeness of the other girl. The grin the blonde usually wore seemed to transform into a small smirk as her steady grip held Blake’s hand before her face.

“I knew I was hot, but I didn’t think I was this hot.”

    Blake was forced back into silence before she could even stammer out an excuse by the feeling of Yang’s lips wrapping around her captured digits, engulfing them in the heat of her mouth. With a shaky-legged moan, the feline Faunus was struck by another wave of arousal, this time strong enough to chase away her rational thoughts as she blankly admired the blonde sucking on her coated fingers. Before her legs could send her tumbling to the ground or onto the bombshell blonde, a strangled cry rumbled free from Blake’s throat. The sensation of Yang’s knee pressing into her crotch as the blonde pushed herself closer was almost more than she could bare.

“Nnngh…Yang…I…”

    Heated saliva cascaded down the black-haired female’s fingers as Yang went straight from sucking them clean to attacking the Faunus’s lips. It’s a good thing that she had been silenced, as the sensation of Yang’s fingers squirming beneath her panties was the last thing Blake noticed before she was overcome by her urges completely. All Yang noticed of her partner’s inner struggle was the sensation of Blake suddenly forcefully kissing her back and grinding onto her fingers until her body shook with a rapturous pleasure.

    The almost feral Faunus continued to grind her wanton slit into her friend’s fingers until each and every wave of orgasm had left her body, leaving only a comforting haze of warmth. Once Yang had noticed the other girl beginning to slow, she gently lowered the two of them to the floor, right in front of the RWBY dorm room. Blake would have been worried about the possibility of someone finding them before she had a chance to catch her breath if she wasn’t so damn satisfied to have finally received some brief respite from her heat. Naturally once her mind had time to wander, a strange shock and small amount of worry began to build up inside of her. Without pulling her face from the other girl’s shoulder, she softly whispered.

“I’m sorry, Yang.”

“For what, Blake? You didn’t do anything.”

“It’s this stupid heat it just makes me so…”

    As if all the air had suddenly fled from the room, Blake could feel her heart beginning to hammer in her chest as her worried mind began to run wild.

You told her about the heat! How could you be so stupid!? There’s no way any of them are going to treat you the same, knowing you’re a Faunus. A non-human.

    Before anything could be said by her partner, her breath began to hitch in her throat as hot tears began to bead from the corners of her eyes. Despite her attempts to stay quiet, a muffled sob somehow found its way free from her throat. Though her thoughts were of the blonde pushing her away, looking hurt or betrayed and saying she never wanted to see her again, Yang’s grip on Blake pulled her closer. Struggling in her friend’s grasp, the feline attempted to pull free again and again, only for each attempt to end in Yang holding her tighter.

    Eventually the despairing Faunus gave up fighting the embrace, going slack as her own hand went out to wrap around her steadfast friend. As if she had sensed that Blake had finally calmed down somewhat, Yang pulled her head back slightly, warm drops of tears falling from her own eyes onto the female below.

    Pain. Anger. Betrayal. Mistrust. Any number of these emotions were what Blake had expected to receive if her secret had ever gotten out. The only emotion that she wouldn’t have foreseen from her experiences in life thus far was the only visible expression on the blonde’s face. Love.

“Blake. Don’t worry, just please stop crying.”

    The sound of the Yang’s voice cracking slightly almost broke Blake’s heart, and it was all she could do not to bury her head in her friend’s shoulder and begin to sob again. Before the emotional Faunus could speak anymore, Yang gave her a soft “Shhh” as she began to stroke the top of her head. As the normally bouncy blonde’s fingers slowly began to slide through her ebony hair, she instinctively flinched when her hidden ears were stroked. The last thing that Blake remembered before she allowed herself to drift into a comfortable slumber was Yang’s voice as she filled the space around them with a quiet hum.

Thank you, Yang.

[amyddaniels]

How to Be Happy at Every Age

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

[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