#the amount of tears i shed while watching this is astonishing

[retrobr]

i will never, ever, ever, ever watch guardians of the galaxy vol. 3 again.

[quazartranslates]

Welcome to the Nightmare Game II - CH17

**This is an edited machine translation. For more information, please [click here]**

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Chapter 17: Journey (Second Half)

Even when the moon had reached the middle of the sky, the excitement of the Valentine tribe in the distance remained the same, and the joy continued.

But it was a joy that some people avoided.

A petite figure walked through the stone forest. It had gotten dark, and the moon overhead couldn't bring enough lighting. The shadows of the stone pillars made one unable to see the ground beneath them. When there came the sound of an eagle crying overhead, she lost her guard and knocked her head on a stone, groaning and singing in pain.

She was a human girl, maybe a Valentine.

The traveler jumped off the wind-eroded column and walked up to her. She retreated in fear, her back pressing tightly against the rock wall, and shouted, "Don't capture me! Please, let me escape! Don't tell the patriarch and the high priest!"

"Who are you?" asked the traveler.

The girl's panic was quelled by this question and this voice. She summoned the courage to look up at the stranger. In the moonlight, the handsome traveler made her unconsciously open her mouth: "I... My name is Aya, a member of the Valentines."

"Where are you going?" asked the traveler.

"Ant City... I want to go to the Ant City!" Aya whispered at first, but suddenly she said it out loud.

"You should go before dawn. The desert at night is very dangerous," the traveler warned.

Was he concerned about her? Aya looked at the stranger in astonishment. He was very tall, fair-skinned—very different from the short brown Valentines—and handsome.

Aya suddenly looked back and gazed at the bonfire in the distance. She suddenly had an idea in her heart.

She stood up from the ground, dusted the dust and gravel from her skirt, and looked at the traveler with trepidation. He stood in front of her as quiet as the moonlight, as determined as a desert poplar that refused to fall. She was nervous, but she was forced by her inner anxiety.

"You… Do you want to ask me to dance? We can dance all night!" Aya got up the courage and rushed out an invitation that was implicitly out of line.

If people from the Valentine tribe were here, they would understand her. Aya was afraid that he couldn't understand, and boldly squeezed a sentence from her throat: "I’ve grown up, I can do more intimate things than dancing, I can do it!"

When she finished speaking, she quickly bowed her head, afraid to see contempt from the traveler's eyes. This shame, mixed with fear, made her red-eyed and so sad that she almost cried.

"I’m sorry, I’m a monk," the traveler answered her.

Aya's heart retreated. Even a girl like her who lived in a remote tribe knew what this meant—he would not rush to get close to a girl, and would not do anything more than the moment before entering marriage. She should apologize and run away in shame.

But the fear of the future was forcing her. Her lips trembled and she desperately begged: "We could get married, I don't want gifts, I don't want rings... We could get married tonight, and you wouldn't have to visit me after tomorrow. Please, I don't want to... I don't want to..."

The traveler replied, "I’m sorry, I have a lover."

Aya began to cry, shaking with tears. She was jealous of the lucky girls in the tribe who could dance with their favorite boy on this beautiful night while she was locked in her room, waiting for fate. She had escaped, but where could she escape to? She couldn't cross the vast Sea of Tranquility desert, and could only go to the Underground Ant City—the hell on earth that frightened her. She doesn't have the strength of a bear, the sharpness of an eagle, or the agility of a monkey. How could an ordinary human girl survive there?

Everywhere was a dead end, and there was no glimmer of hope. She finally despaired, wiped her tears, and turned to walk towards the village. She had escaped on impulse, but now that she thought about it, there was nowhere to go. Why shouldn't she go back and accept her own destiny?

But the traveler stopped her: "Do you have some difficulties? Do you need my help?"

Aya stopped and turned to look at him. The traveler stood in the bright moonlight and watched her with gentle blue eyes. This stranger cared about her and worried about her pain. This thought makes Aya burst into tears. She couldn't wait to tell the whole of her grievances, but when she was stared at by such a pair of eyes, she couldn't say anything, she could only shed tears silently.

"Thank you... Sir... Thank you."

Amidst the joyful celebration, this tribal girl with honey skin told her story intermittently.

The Valentine tribe was a tribe that had migrated here from somewhere else. Unlike the aborigines with high noses, deep eyes, and white skin, they had a darker skin color and were not very tall. In addition, since they had come later, their relationship with other tribes was not harmonious and they even suffered from discrimination.

Demons always liked pure human girls. As the Dragon Ant Queen aged, she asked for more sacrifices. The secret of her bloody cruelty was circulated in the Sea of Tranquility desert—she drank great amounts of the blood of virgins in an attempt to stop the traces left by time. Aya, who had just become an adult, was chosen as the Valentine tribe’s tribute this year, and would be sent to the Dragon Ant Queen’s palace in the Underground Ant City. She didn't know if she would really face a bloodthirsty tyrant, but she knew that all the girls who were sent there had never come back.

Aya's mother died young and her father had been bewitched by a trader and became a believer in Utopia, leaving the tribe to pursue this dreamlike land of perfection. Left alone, Aya was brought up by the tribe on the condition that she would be a tribute for the tribe when she grew up.

Aya, who had no choice, grew up in fear. In order to keep her pure, the patriarch and the high priest had forbidden her from having contact with the opposite sex. She felt sincere envy and deep fear when she watched her peers walk into marriage one by one.

Finally, in this unattended bonfire festival, she was moved by the joy and excitement. She quietly escaped from the village and wanted to mix into the Underground Ant City to live out the rest of her days. Then she met someone who changed her life.

Now, she and this man were sitting on a low and easy-to-climb wind-eroded column, looking out over the bonfire in the distance.

She confided intermittently, confused for a while, self-pitying for a while, and sometimes even felt guilty: "Maybe I shouldn't have run away. If I leave, another girl will be sent there instead of me, and they don't want to do that... They should have a better life."

The traveler who had been silent until now told her: "No one should bear this pain, and neither should you."

Tears flowed from her dry eyes again and Aya choked: "But everyone doesn't think so. Since I’ve accepted the tribe’s support, I should repay them. This is a matter of course."

"It is an obligation to raise a child. It is unjust to ask her to repay this obligation with her life," said the traveler.

"It's not my fault? Isn't it because I’m too selfish?" Aya asked hopefully.

The traveler shook his head. "It's not your fault, nor is it anyone's fault."

"Whose fault is it then?" Aya was confused.

The traveler couldn't answer, and he was also thinking, if the world forced a warm and kind ethnic group to sell their own kind in exchange for surviving, whose fault was it?

"It's the Devils’ fault," the traveler said. "So we must destroy them and drive them back to the underworld, so that they will never come to this world."

"That's good. In this case, daddy wouldn't believe in any Utopia anymore? A world without demons itself is so beautiful. It’s a Utopia already. I want to live in such a world. Everything is good, perfect and the best," Aya said. Her poor vocabulary couldn't express the world in her heart. She can only describe it as "the best".

"What kind of world is it?" the traveler asked.

Aya thought hard and described the Utopia in her heart: "It must be an equal world. Besides human beings, there can also be demons that don't harm people... I heard that there are such demons in the Underground Ant City, and some even marry humans. If they don't harm us, I can accept their existence. No matter what kind of skin colour, like you or me, or whether we’re men or women, whether we have a faith or not, as long as we’re willing to be peaceful and friendly and not hurt each other, we should be equal and should be happy."

The traveler was surprised. He didn't expect an uneducated tribal girl to have such a mind and ideal, which made his heart that was blindly hostile to all demons ashamed.

Aya couldn't help but smile when she thought about such a world: "It would be great if I could live in a world like that."

With that, she smiled again and sighed softly: "What’s the point in dreaming of such ideals? We don't even know if we can survive the next evil tide... There will always be some demons fleeing to the surface each month during those days. Last month, they ate five sheep that belonged to the patriarch's family and they’ve eaten people before."

Aya asked, "I heard that monks like you can do magic spells. Can you do that?"

"I don't have that kind of power, but I have the Lord in my heart." The traveler replied that he had faith even though he had been exiled.

"Would believing in the Lord make me as smart and powerful as you? Can I also believe?" Aya asked uneasily.

The traveler handed her a heavy book as an answer.

Aya held the book carefully, for fear that her hands would ruin the precious book. She looked at the words on the cover and sounded it out with difficulty: "The Canon, is that how you read it?"

She only knew some simple words and feared that she would remember wrong. After flipping through the pages, she was embarrassed to find that she couldn't read even half of the contents.

"This is what my mother left me, and now I will give it to you," said the traveler.

Aya closed the book in a panic, threw it back, and hit the traveler in the waist with it. He groaned and his face suddenly turned pale.

"Are you okay? Did I hurt you? Sorry, I’m sorry!" Aya apologized fearfully, and she was so anxious that her tears fell down.

"It doesn't matter, it's a previous injury." Although the traveler looked haggard, he had a calm expression, as if the wound on his body was really just a minor injury. He put the book back in Aya's hands. "It doesn't matter. I memorized this book very young. If it can help you, it has value."

He didn't think it was a pity to give the Canon to a girl who couldn't even recognize its words. Moreover, the place where he was going was dangerous, and the result of going was that he might be left sleeping in the ground forever. If he let her go back with this Canon, at least the tribe wouldn't blame her for her escape.

There was a kind seed in her heart. Whether she believed it or not, she should be treated well.

"Thank you, really thank you." Aya thanked him repeatedly and was overwhelmed with joy when she held the book.

During this bonfire festival that she wasn’t allowed to attend, she had still received a gift. Maybe the traveler didn't know the meaning of the gift, but it still made her jump secretly. There was a happy bird singing in her heart, almost flying out of her chest.

But he had a lover. Aya bowed her head sadly, trying to hide her sour mood. With her head bowed, she opened the book and read the words by the moonlight, secretly blushing: "Love is... is..."

"Love is patient, love is kind," the traveler told her the pronunciation.

This heartfelt statement made her emotion surge. She seemed to be inspired by fate and bravely continued to read: "Love does not... what?"

The traveler told her slowly, "Love does not envy."

Aya's hand stroking the pages froze, and her foolish longing turned into full loss and self-mockery, which finally made her thoughtful.

Love is not envy. Aya silently read this sentence in her mind. Don't be envious of the girls who can dance with their sweethearts, and don't be envious of strangers who care about their loved ones. It was not her love.

The bonfire in the distance had become faint, the voice of celebration had gradually lowered, and the festival had come to an end.

Aya held the book and whispered, "I want to go home."

The traveler said, "I can take you to the Ant City and help you settle down."

"No, I’m willing to go back. Thank you," Aya said. "But before you go, can I talk to you for a while? We can talk about anything."

The traveler promised her.

Aya talked happily about the past, and stopped talking about the fear that made her feel miserable and helpless. Instead, she talked about the interesting things she’d encountered. She had been so angry when the bucket was pushed into the well by the sheep when she had been fetching water that she’d chased after the sheep. She had burned her hand when she was making naan and the neighbour's boy had helped her fetch water to cool it down. After listening to the traders talking about the outside world, she had learned that there was a place called the Vatican. She was excited to talk about all these interesting things, because she didn't think the traveler was happy. She wanted him to be happy, and she also wanted to know about his past, even if it was just his name.

But the traveler was always a silent listener, and he had no intention of telling his own story.

She didn't know where he came from, what kind of pain and despair he had experienced, why there was such a gentle sadness in his body, and what kind of person he carefully sheltered in his heart.

But the traveler didn't say anything. He didn't say anything.

Late at night, the young girl was very tired and sleepy. She murmured and asked, "Where is your lover? Where did she go?"*

*{E/N: he and she are pronounced the same in Chinese}

The traveler replied, "He is always in my heart."

Aya couldn't tell whether this is what the traveler said or what she dreamed. She fell asleep with the book as her pillow, and the traveler took the liberty of taking the strange girl back to the village. He covered her with a blanket, sat next to her to watch over her, and went nearby to find some dry wood to raise the fire and warm her.

The traveler himself didn't sleep. He waited for the rising sun and then quietly left to continue his journey.

Before the start of this journey, he actually hadn't had many opportunities to watch the sunrise, as he couldn't see it in the Village of Dusk. When he’d moved to Neverland, he had spent half a year under the eternally starry sky. When he was on tasks outside, he was in a hurry and didn't have the mind to wait for a sunrise. In fact, he didn't have any attachment to the sunrise. If his lover was still there, it would be beautiful for them to watch the sunset together. The sunset never fell in the land of Dusk. They could sit side by side on the beach, holding hands and watching the end of time.

He wanted to take him to the snow-capped mountains to see if the snow leopard he had once treated still occupied the mountains, where there was a beautiful waterfall and ice lake and the frozen blue-green water amidst the ice and snow made the mountain as beautiful as a fairy tale. He also wanted to take him to the polar regions to see penguins. They could even adopt an abandoned baby penguin, feed it, and watch it stagger on the ice until it was strong enough to return to the colony.

He had many, many things he wanted to do with him. Maybe he didn't want to do these things. Maybe he just wanted to be with him.

When people who love each other are together, they can feel each other's hearts even if they don't say a word.

But if the distance was between life and death, could these thoughts reach the other side of the Styx?

The traveler watched the sun rising over the horizon, and his heart was at peace. He was like a boat drifting from one port to another. He may encounter storms along the way, but when the boat arrived at the harbor, he would still feel lucky and never feel dismayed.

He never felt that he should take happiness for granted. His decision with his faith was not to seek happiness, but to let his heart find peace, even if he was punished for it.

It was better to suffer frankly than to live falsely. He knew that he wouldn't run away. He had made a mistake and did not repent, so he should be punished. For him, such punishment was not pain, but atonement. All the sufferings in this world were to redeem the original sin that he was born with, and he had to pay for it with his whole life.

At dawn, Aya woke up from her sleep. She was covered with a blanket and didn't know when the bonfire before her had been lit. There were still faint flames swaying in the wind, but the traveler had left.

Aya grabbed the blanket, picked up the book, and ran to the village in a hurry. The rocks and thorns along the way made her run too fast, and she accidentally fell to the ground.

She couldn't care less about herself and picked up the Canon, only to find that a piece of paper had fallen from its pages.

She picked up the paper and turned it over. It was a hand-painted portrait of a handsome young man smiling at her.

There was a name in the corner, which should be the name of the person in the portrait. It was very simple, and she could easily read it out even if she couldn't read much. She gently said: "Qi Leren."

It was just an ordinary name, but the tender brushwork on the portrait made her voice go soft unconsciously. She wanted to take a closer look and feel the overflowing tenderness, but a gust of wind blew from the desert, violently and rapidly, and took the portrait from her unsuspecting hand, blowing it into the clear sky above the vast yellow sand.

The sand flying in the wind overwhelmed Aya's eyes. She waved her arms wildly in confusion, but she could only grasp the yellow sand in her hands. When she opened her misty eyes again, the portrait had been brought to the sky by the wind, fluttering and rootless, and was about to disappear into the heavens.

Aya chased it without thinking, racing the wind all the way. A great sadness filled her heart and a voice in her heart made her run, run, run desperately... She lost her shoes, her feet stepped on stones, and blood flowed, but the pain of her body could not overcome her inner sadness and she still dared not stop, she wanted to catch what was about to be lost—until she tripped over thorns and fell heavily to the earth.

She fell in such pain that she fell to her knees and cried. Her feet had already been cut bloody, her knees were scraped open, and she was bleeding. Even her hands were full of cuts. She shrank back and wanted to give up, but she looked up and looked into the distance unwillingly.

The wind was blowing again, and a gust of wind sent that thin piece of paper to an unknown distance. Such a large desert, such a small piece of paper. In an instant there was no trace of it, only the vast yellow sand and blue sky.

Who was the man in that picture? Aya would never know.

It was doomed to be unknown, impossible to find and impossible to obtain.

And how could the emotion carried on the delicate paper withstand the relentless sand in the desert?

It would eventually be destroyed, buried and forgotten.

Aya was stupefied and kneeling in the hot sun, with mottled blood all the way behind her showing that she had made an almost crazy effort for a story with no answer. Her eyes, which were filled with the wind and sand, kept shedding tears, but they couldn't wash away the hard sand in her soft eyes. It seemed that something sharp was stuck in her heart, so sharp and painful, but she didn't know what it was.

She didn't know anything.

Sadness and melancholy suddenly welled up in the girl's heart and she burst into tears on this barren land, for a stranger whose name she didn’t know, for a stranger who only knew her name.

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Editor’s Notes: After checking three different mtls (my number has gone up again oh dear), I’ve determined that BMBL calls the book the Bible in the original Chinese. I’ve chosen to translate it as Canon in order to distinguish it, as BMBL has stated previously (and will again later) that, despite being very similar, the religion in this series is not Christianity.

I think this chapter is the first time I’ve cried a bit while editing. I encourage everyone to come back and read this little interlude again once you’ve finished all of Part II, there’s quite a bit that hits differently.

I’m going to be taking a one week break while we’re between arcs in order to do some catching up, so the next chapter will be up on June 18th.

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[thehoneybeast]

Reconnecting

Ok sooo.. I have been a little obsessed with this great show and had the inspiration to write and actually finish! a fanfiction because apparently I am n love with a stupid cartoon monkey called Hugo.. so here we go! Maybe some find a little joy in this.

Warnings: mention of death, maybe trauma, stupidly dramatic

Pairing: Hugo/Scarlemange x Reader because why not

Okay a little rant from me first. Spoiler! I couldn't just accept that Hugo dies at the end of the series so I had to come up with a stupid way in which we could save him. This came from the same storyline in which he wouldn't die. If my motivation is big enough, I might continue this, but for now this is all I have. Also, the story is a little straight forward, no gentle start or anything. Enjoy!

He smelled the sweat on your skin, mixed with the earthy note of dirt before he recognised your own scent underneath. He let go, held your head between his hands and smiled widely. Your hair was a mess, dull and mixed with leaves but it held the same beautiful colour that he remembered you with. Your eyes stared at him with confused happiness and he felt his heartbeat quicken. It had taken  him  years to find you, to finally see you again. You had grown, your features had become more firm and you were confronted with the same sense of astonishment as him. Last time you had stood in front of Hugo, he had been the same hight as you. He always looked a little shy with his rather small frame. Now you stood in front of a mandrill the size of a gorilla, his shoulders broad and hidden underneath a fancy costume of the old France. You could feel the enormous strength in his arms as he held you, the intimidating strength of a mute.However, you couldn't comprehend the fact, that he was alive. After what felt like forever, you finally found a known face and one that you held a special place for in your heart. It brought tears to your eyes, which caused his grin to falter, instantly letting go of your head. "Are you hurt?" the question came out quiet as he let his eyes search your body for any signs of a wound but you just shook your head smiling, wiping your tears away. "I'm so happy to see you are alive-" was all you could say, before a wave of emotions hit you and you let your head sink, ashamed of causing a scene, but he just went to embrace you yet again. "No need to shed tears, you are save now." His words were quiet, just loud enough for you to hear. "Nothing will hurt you as long as you stay with me." You held each other, enjoying the familiar company. When he let go this time, he made a few steps back suddenly filled with energy, spreading his arms. "You are now part of my kingdom! Everyone will know not to touch you, unless they wish to face the strength of my army! " he announced, proudly taking in the view of the humans behind you. He felt his heart flutter as you watched him with big, beautiful eyes.It brought him on a high he hadn't experienced in a long time. He turned around and motioned for you to follow him before he stalked ahead. "Let me show you around!" he more or less ordered and you needed a second to get of the ground and hurry after him. While rushing to his side you couldn't help but notice the people behind you. You didn't recognise them because of their masks but you felt something was off about them. He tangled his arm with yours as soon as you reached him, grinning and leading you through his place. It was way bigger than you would have imagined, overgrown by nature in many places while still holding a sense of luxury. You understood immediately why he had chosen to stay. He was obviously proud of his home and trying to impress you. He had to slow down a little for you to appreciate what he was showing you and it took him a little self control. You were overwhelmed by the new surroundings and even more by him. It was odd seeing your sweet and gentle childhood friend so very proud and outgoing. You felt a little arrogance in the way he acted but you didn't really care for now. Just being around him made you feel younger and filled you with more energy than you had have since the breakdown of the borrow. It was good to see him healthy and all grown up and you really embraced the warmth which whom he met you. His enthusiasm was infectious and while he was rambling about the great meaning behind paintings and decorations, you listened with wide eyes, completely forgetting about your confused feelings and the rush of fear that you had experienced before you had recognised each other. You didn't think of questioning anything over your joy, until you reentered the great hall you started from. He lead you to his grant piano which was placed on  a platform in the middle of the room and as he talked about the music he adored, your gaze shifted trough the room, coming to a halt at the group of humans standing perfectly still. You tilted your head irritated. "What's the deal with them?" You asked Hugo who had paid no mind to your audience. You realised that you didn't really ask yourself why none of them had introduced themselves or even bothered to say anything when you were brought in or after that. Were they even real beings? "They're my peasants." He answered nonchalantly sitting down, starting to play a walz on his piano. You looked at him in confusion, wanted to ask him where they came from, what was going on but as he snapped his fingers, you began to understand. To your horror, the motionless people started to dance. They didn't speak, they didn't laugh or sway mindlessly, they danced as if hanging on strings, as if programmed just to dance. Hugo laughed while you could only stare, slowly processing what was going on. You remembered why they had kept him in a cage back then. You remembered when your father had told you to stay away. It was his sweat. That hypnotic influence it had on primates. You felt your heart drop to your stomach, the easy feeling of home coming disappearing behind the maniacal laughter of your friend. There was nothing odd about the humans dancing in front of you, it was Hugo. He had changed more drastically than you could ever have imagined. He continued his play joyfully, not taking notice of your uneasy expression until you carefully put your hand on his, stopping his movements. Confused and angry he glared at you before he saw the way you looked at him. You tried to smile, suddenly scared of angering him. "You play beautifully, but please don't make them dance." Your voice was gentle but he must have heard the trembling underneath. His grin grew back, this time more evil than welcoming. "Oh you don't have to pity them. This is one of the only things they're good for anyways." You didn't know what to say. There was hatred in his eyes and you bit your lip nervously, looking back and forth between him and the people. His hands were still hovering over the keys of his instrument, his gaze fixed on you, waiting for a reaction. "Please don't-" was all you could mutter before he turned to the people and waved one of them to step closer. Hugo watched with amusement as the man walked over, a wide and unsettling smile on his face. He enjoyed it. When the stranger arrived Hugo snapped his fingers again and the poor guy started to uncontrollable stepdance. You made a step back, feeling sick watching him. "You don't have to worry, you are my guest. As long as you follow my orders willingly,  there is no need for this." He motioned at the man his voice filled with pride and authority. You stared at him. Your breath became short and your heartbeat fastened. He watched his peasant do as he pleased. He didn't know why he had felt the need to demonstrate you his ways, after all you had never made any attempt of running yet, but as soon as he had seen your curiosity for the other humans, he had felt anger. You had been separated for so long, he didn't know you anymore. Maybe you had never missed him, maybe even forgotten him until now, maybe you had even become like them. There was jealousy in his veins but he chose to not let you see that. After all, who knew what your motivation was at this point. It wouldn't hurt to show you, who was in control. Better to introduce you to his new world in a way that you wouldn't dare to question him. When he turned to you again you had brought quite a distance between the both of you, your body reacting to the fear rushing trough your bones. You had lived quite some time out there, all alone. Your instincts had saved you most of the time but you felt your scars tingle as they reminded you of the times it had not. He could do the same to you. You felt hatred crawl into your eyes and run over your cheeks. The hate wasn't directed onto him but rather onto the entire world. This world had made him like this. Your heart ached, wondering what had scarred him so deeply that he felt the need to put others under his control. You realised, that he had most likely wanted to put you under his spell as well until he had recognised you. Hugo, or what he would soon teach you to call him, Scarlemange, watched the war behind your eyes. He managed to look unscathed on the outside while inside he was slightly scared of the decision you would come to. He wouldn't let you leave, he couldn't loose sight of you again. Part of him regretted his little show but he reminded himself, that he could not just trust you to know your place. He wouldn't put you with the rest of them, maybe even let you wander around once he trusted you enough to not try and flee. He yearned for your acceptance of the situation so he could try and rebuild the connection the two of you had shared so many yeara ago. You wiped the remains of your tears of stress away with the hem of your dirty clothes and he instantly wished that you hadn't. It made you look more like a dirty dog and he only realised now how wore down you were. You had been a little chubby as a child, not overweight but a healthy amount of flesh on your bones. It occurred to him, that you might have had to fight for food, maybe falling asleep hungry sometimes. Over all, your body looked strained, he could see muscles under your skin but also bone where he didn't want to see it. He felt himself getting softer by watching you, now more alert than you had been before. "How about something to eat? If you're done throwing a tantrum. " His voice was weaker than he had intended it to be, but he couldn't help himself but worry about you. Of course you weren't allowed to know about that, after all you could use it to your advantage. Your shoulders were stiff your eyes narrowed, trying to see the intention in his eyes. It was sad how quickly the atmosphere around the two of you had changed. It now seemed like a short dream where things had been how they used to be. The reality had hit you hard and brought your mind back into a state of survival. You stood a few feet away from the monkey, meeting his glare unimpressed. "Well?" he tried again, his tone now harsher and more demanding for an answer. You sighed heavily before nodding  scared that your voice might break if you tried to speak. He smiled grimly offering you with a gesture to walk beside him. Of course it wasn't really an offer and rather a demand. You looked up at him more disappointed than angry and let him lead you to the other hall where you had come along the giant table. You felt naive for hoping he would be the same and you struggled to decide whether it made you want to leave or stay. He clearly had lived through something that made him like this but you weren't sure if you had the strength to put up with his very dangerous new side in order to help him find back to a healthier view on the world. You had been through quite a lot yourself and thought it unfair that you would have to suppress your own happiness and safety for his sake. So far he hadn't put you in too much of an inconvenience but rather just scared or threatened you. To your surprise he didn't lead you to the dining room but made his way up the stairs to the second floor. It occurred to you, that you could probably run from him, try to escape but you decided that if you were going to do it he shouldn't be expecting it, what he was surely doing at the moment. Instead you followed him slowly,  taking in the view of the room while getting higher. Your hands slid carefully over the old wooden stairhandle and you noticed a bitter feeling of hope in your heart when you turned your head in Hugos direction. He was waiting at the end of the stairs and smiled. It was almost charming if you just could have brought yourself to forget what just had happened. "You will change before we eat. I will not have you smelling like a wild animal while dining." He didn't leave room for an argument but you didn't feel like you had the strength for that anyway. "There is a bathtub in there, ready to be used. It was meant for me but you can have it. Clothes will be brought in when you're done." He already headed off, leaving you in the doorway of a lightly lit room which was filled with the smell of flowers. "I hope you don't expect me to wear something like you..?" You asked, facing the big old bath but he was already back on the stairs throwing you a confident grin before he stalked away while you slowly entered the bathroom. A warm bath sounded rather appealing and would maybe help you relax again. The water was hot, a comforting feeling on your skin and even though you couldn't stop feeling sad about your experience with Hugo, you did enjoy the feeling of the dirt getting of your skin. You washed your hair, your face and looked carefully at yourself when you were done. There were scars you didn't recognise and others which causes you would never forget. There was a big towel hanging at the wall, big red and fluffy and you curled yourself up in it. A content sigh passed your lips when you sat down on one of the puff chairs which stood around the room. You didn't want to face him again. Not when he had become like a possessive tyrant. You burried your head under the towel and thought back to a better time. A safer time. You jumped slightly when the door opened before a big wooden box was pushed into the room and the door closed again before you could see who had brought it in. You stared a few moments, debating whether you should play along or not. Sighing yet again, you slowly walked over and lifted the top so you could take a look at the the fabric inside. Of course he hadn't brought you normal, simple clothes. No, it had to be the same old school fashion that him and his 'peasants' were dressed in. You rummaged through the box on the search for something more comfortable than that and found a rather normal looking leggings with ruffles on the outside but decided it was good enough. For your upper body you took one of the white dress shirts two or three sizes too big so that it would hang loosely over you chest. As happy as you could be with your outfit you walked over to the mirror again and took in your form. Your scars were hidden, your hair clean and after you had found a brush and forced it into a more presentable look, you were surprised how good it felt to feel like a human again. The door was opened again, this time all the way and a gorilla peeked inside his hand covering his eyes while he asked in a deep voice: "If you're dressed, please come outside. Scarlemange awaits you. " You frowned hearing that name. You had nearly forgotten who it was you were brought to. Not Hugo, whom you had mistaken him for but the monster you had heard many mutants talk about. After debating with yourself if you should insist on calling him Hugo, you made the decision that it wouldn't bring you anything good to be stubborn right now. So instead you answered with a gentle "I'm coming!" and followed the gorilla out the door. He brought you to the Hall as expected and upon seeing the giant table, now with plates of fruits and fancy dishes, you felt your body scream for food. Hardly keeping yourself from rushing over to eat with your bare hands, the gorilla seated you on the other side of the long wooden table so now you were facing Hu- no, Scarlemange a few feet away. You could see his eyebrows narrow as he took in your new look. "You could've picked something fancier." He scolded loudly to reach your ears over the distance but you just shrugged your shoulders. "I didn't feel like dressing up. Comfortable is better than pretty." You answered nonchalantly, trying not to stare at the meals in front of you. Scarlemange noticed the hunger in your eyes and laughed slightly to himself. "Please, be my guest and treat yourself." He motioned over the table and that was all the invitation you needed. You devoured every bite you took, enjoying the feeling of your stomach being filled to the brim. When you were done, your belly hurt a little but you felt happy and content. Sighing you leaned against the back of your chair. Scarlemange, who was used to eat regularly, took his time, eating with elegance and you couldn't help but smile over the way he was so serious about looking pretty while eating. You had grown a little tired but also braver. Deciding that you didn't want to scream for him to hear you, you eased out of your chair and made your way over to his end of the table. He stopped in his movement watching you through squinted eyes. You reached the chair to his left, pulled it out and sat down, smiling sheepishly at him. "So now you aren't scared of me anymore?" he asked bitterly and you rested your head on your hand, still looking at him. "Surely you understand why I am a little cautious after your little show off with that man. You did it to scare me, didn't you? But you are rather nice to me. You let me clean myself, you feed me. You also tried to intimidate me. I'm not quite sure what you want with me, but I'm willing to give you your time to express it." He raised his eyebrows unimpressed and continued eating while you watched him closely. He had earned some scars himself. Tho they made his colourful face even more interesting. You hummed to yourself as you took your time taking each of them in, wondering what may have caused them. He looked older, more masculine. "You've become rather handsome." It left your mouth without intention and as you noticed what you had said, heat crawled into your cheeks. To your surprise he just laughed evily and glared at you. "What, do you think flattery will make it easier for you to fool me?" There was mistrust and anger in his eyes and you realised that he didn't believe you, which frustrated you. "Nah, I think a poor peasant like me couldn't fool a majesty like you, since you are oh so great and scary!" You huffed angrily. Your anger reflected in his eyes and you took a deep breath, trying to calm the situation. "Seriously. Even though I don't like these clothes on me, they do look good on you. It fits the colour of your fur." He just stared at you, now more confused than angry, which made you continue. "You found your theme and it compliments your personality. I'm just being honest here." You saw his look shifting uneasy and knew that you had flattered him, probably the first to do so in a long time. Maybe now he would answer some questions. "Look Scarlemange, I don't know what happened. I'm pretty sure you don't want to tell me so I'll leave it alone. But I will not just sit and wait, so please do tell me what you are planning to do with me. Am I your prisoner? Your pet? Will you kick me out when you are bored by me? I just want to know what to expect. " For a moment he was quiet. He put his dish aside, keeping his eyes on you, his glare unbroken. "You are a human. You belong to me. I will not let you leave." That was what you had expected but it made you shiver, once he had said it out loud. "However," he continued in a generous tone, ignoring your nervous gulp, "you have the privilege of good memories being connected to you so I will give you the chance of earning the right to keep your own will, just like I told you before. Don't misbehave. Don't betray me or you are going to join the others of your kind in serving me." His tone was firm and emotionless. He wanted to stand up but you stopped him. Your grip wasn't harsh but he stopped in his movements. He wasn't angry with you this time, just wanted for you to say what you had to. "I understand that." You looked down at your hand now covering his and had to fight the urge of getting too upset. "But you get that it is a lot to ask to just demand that I stay here, right? You treat this as if it should be obvious when I have hardly even told you how I feel about it. This has been a very onesided interaction so far and as much as I am happy to see you, we can't go back to being friends if you're not willing to listen as well. You changed your name, your personality. I as well have nice memories of us two playing silly games and spending our time with each other, but the way we lived then was different. Our world was different. We changed a lot. You are not the shy little body I had befriended back than and neither am I the stupid little child." You raised your gaze, afraid  of his reaction but he didn't seem upset yet. Instead he took his hand back from yours and talked in a voice like he was teaching a child. "You are right, we lived in another world back than." Now he raised from his chair entirely, walked a few steps and turned his back to you, locking his hands behind his back. "I realised that the world wasn't as we saw it. I had to wake up from that fantasy world of a 'family' and did what helped me survive in the real world." His voice had become spiteful and you felt pain in the words he said. You felt you chest tighten and stood up as well. "Yes, this world is scarier than in the burrow." You interrupted "I had to face that fact as well when the burrow was gone. The life on the surface is hard. It left it's scars on me too." He looked over his shoulder at you, doubt and mistrust in his eyes. " Why did you leave the new place then? If you think the surface is so scary, why come out? To explore it? Are you telling me you had no choice? Do you think I am that stupid?"He stopped in his rant when he saw your eyes go wide. "New..New home? What are you talking about?" He saw genuine shock in your eyes and he was taken a little aback by that. "The place you flet to? The place you all took of to when the burrow broke down?!" There was a heavy silence between the two of you before you could talk again. "So.. That is why I never found anyone after that. I thought-" you stopped yourself sinking back into your chair. Scarlemange squinted his eyes watching you, trying to decide whether you were lying or not. Your performance was pretty believable. "Why would they leave you behind?" he questioned and your heart ached thinking back to that day. You didn't have anyone to talk to about what happened that day so you chose to push it into the back of your head, ready to be forgotten. The trauma would have prevented you from surviving, you didn't have the room for a breakdown when you had to be on guard all the time. But now someone wanted to know, someone knew what had happened and the memories flooded back. You burried your face in your hands, shaking it, trying to stop the emotions from overrunning   you. It had been suppressed for so long. Scarlemanges face softened, seeing you react so emotionally. Maybe you were telling the truth. He came closer, not really knowing how to calm you down but also wanting to know. "Please, tell me what happened. " His voice was gentle and more quite than before while he slowly placed a hand on your back. Your words were small, chaotic and he had trouble understanding what you said. "The day the burrow broke down..My father- He was hit by the collapsing roof... The bricks burried him underneath them and he... He was still alive. I couldn't reach him.. Everyone rushed to leave, they were all in panic.." You paused to take some heavy breaths and he felt your body beginning to shake. "I couldn't leave him.. Some tried make me leave with them but... I stayed with him for two days until.. Until he stopped answering me-" You hick uped and your throat was too thick to continue. Images of the chaos flashed into your inner view and the sickening screams of your father. Your whole body started to stiffen up and when Scarl reached over your shoulders for comfort, you turned and clung to him for dear life, crying heavily into his shoulder.There you were again, hugging him, now out of grief instead of joy. He didn't know what to do so he just let your small frame cling to him, carefully wrapping his arms around you. He could only listen to half of your story, though he felt that the rest was rather easy to guess. You had stayed behind for your father and once he was dead you had been left alone with nowhere to go. Even if they had noticed you missing, they most likely assumed that you had been killed like your father. No one would have risked it to come back and search for someone presumed dead. He felt guilt for having brought back those memories and anger as he realised that you as well had been left behind. You must have felt even more lost and scared than him, he at least had been somewhat capable of defending himself. He vowed to himself to try and trust you a little more, especially now that you shown yourself so vulnerable to him. It was the first time that He had embraced someone since his life in the burrow and the fact that it was you filled him with gratitude. Maybe there was a chance for a new friendship between the two of you. If only you were going to understand that he was in control. After all, Hugo was no more. He kept you in his arms until your body started to calm down. The shaking disappeared and your breathing softened. As he looked at your face he saw your red puffy eyes and nose, tears still running down your cheeks. It made his heart ached that you searched for comfort in him and he tried to accept the fact that he wouldn't be scaring you any more. You looked much more exhausted and weak than when you had entered his home this morning and he felt a biting feeling that it was partly his fault. He decided that you had been through enough for today. Not saying a word he heaved you into his arms bridal style and passed through the dining room, up the stairs and to the end of the hallway where his bedroom was. When his servants, the mutated ones, looked at him questioningly, he motioned for them to leave. You didn't move much, your head was hurting and everything felt dull and heavy. Only the heartbeat against your ear and the warmth of his body gave you comfort and when he moved to lay you down and leave you whined like a child. He had put you down onto his king sized bed with comfortable red sheets. "I think you deserve some rest, don't you think?" His eyes were back to the way they had been when he first recognised you. There was no fear, anger or mistrust, only worry and warmth. You reached out for him, taking his hand and pulling it in. It felt mesmerising to be wanted by your side but he looked at You uncertain. "Are you sure? I take up a bit of space." The grin on his face was gentle and you felt a piece of hope return to your heart when you nodded. "I don't want to be alone. I think I have enough of that for quite some time " your smile was sad and your eyelids felt incredibly heavy. He gently pulled the blanket up to your neck and walked to the other side of the bed. He thought back to the Times you two had have sleepovers where you would stay in his little room when your father would allow it. It were some of his most treasured memories, innocent and pure. To think that he could relive them someday was incomprehensible to him. When he layed down you were already at his side again, having turned around under the sheets and cuddled up to him, your body heat welcoming him under the sheets. He felt blood rush to his face and he was glad that your eyes were closed while he returned the embrace once again. No, he wasn't reliving memories, this was different. There was something new within him and he realised that maybe, just maybe he didn't only want a friendship anymore. He listened to your peaceful breathing and found himself relax in your arms, a feeling of comfort and home that he hadn't experienced in a long time.

[lapinmiel]

[Backstory] Felix, the Volturi Guard.

Felix was always a background character. We know his name, his power, how Jane uses her power on him and his position in the Guard.

Have you ever wondered what more he had to offer? Because I did, and here is how Felix’s life was like before becoming a Volturi Guard. 

Note: This post is long.

• Felix was born in the Byzantine Empire under Heraclian Dynasty. The year was 674 and the whole Empire was being succumbed to war. His native town, a little place called Gerolimenas, was in the south of what is now known as Greece. It was a stormy day outside and his older sisters were helping their mother give birth. It was such a hard birth that his mother couldn’t even get up for six days, his father thought that she would die — for this hard birth, he started to detest his son.

• He wasn’t given a name until his mother completely recovered. For the reasons that he “almost killed” his mother, his father left him with his sister for the days when his mother was recovering. After she, named Argentea, held him in her arms for the first, she whispered his name with a melancholic smile on her lips: Felix. For he was the lucky one to be born after seven miscarriages.

• Argentea tried to get his husband, Castinus, to get used to Felix and love him as a son. But Castinus was resistant, he didn’t even want another baby anyway. He was already happy with his three daughters. Even though townsfolk considered their seeds damned for not being able to conceive a boy, he loved his daughters more than his own self.

• Due to his relationship being broken with his father even before he was the age to realize it, Felix never felt at ease when his father was around. He learned walking when he was around nine months old and he would avoid walking to his father. His sisters and mother were so broken by their baby’s behaviour, how could a father be so cruel that his son, who didn’t even know his name, wouldn’t walk to him with excitement and a smile?

• His oldest sister Dominica was really stressed about the whole situation because she felt like if Felix didn’t have a good relationship with their father, he was up to bad luck. So she, the daughter who Castinus admittedly adored the most, started trying to get him and Felix close. She started by putting him into his father’s arms with a lie that she had to get work done. Castinus tried to repel her but Felix was already in his arms. This made him realize that the child, Felix, was just a human baby like they all once were and not a baby-shaped devil. Of course, baby Felix started crying but Castinus managed to calm him down. Still, when Donica came into the room again, he put on a frown and gave Felix away to her. But he wanted to hold him in his arms again so badly.

• Slowly, the sisters started to co-operate and create bonding time for Felix and their father. Dominica would leave Felix with him when she had to go and wash the clothes, Eulali, the middle sister, would ask her father to hold Felix while she cleaned the floors and Marcia would ask her father to help out when she washed Felix. The three worked so hard for them to bond, and their effort materialized when one night Castinus asked Argentea to give Felix to him, he wanted to hug him while they slept together. In the morning, when the sisters found out what happened, Eulali shed a couple of tears as the most emotional one. Finally, their family was free of unnecessary tension.

• Deep down Castinus knew that Felix wasn’t the cause of his wife’s hard labour. But he felt bad for trying six times to conceive a boy only for him to almost kill his mother. Castinus felt responsible for it didn’t know how to deal with the agony. As a result, he directed his anger to Felix. Fortunately, their relationship normalized before Felix was two.

• Their family was a warm and intimate one. They would often go on picnics. Castinus always made sure to make flower crowns for his gorgeous wife and beautiful girls when he returned home from work. They weren’t low class either, as a result, they could spend a lot of time together. Felix learned how to identify certain herbs and flowers, fish, cook and sing from his family. His oldest sister Dominica was particularly fond of her little brother and she would always try and steal others’ times with Felix. She would try and teach him how to talk and make people laugh.

• Felix was already by the time he was one, he was a very energetic child. He would run around the house for the whole day. Eulalia liked to play games with him but would get exhausted quickly. She would sit in the middle of the wheat fields they had in the back garden of their house and watch Felix rum through the wheat. Every few minutes, Felix would smile widely and kiss his sister on her cheeks. He loved his family dearly. Even as a child, he was genuinely good at showing his emotions.

• While his energy was never-ending, he had trouble talking. He didn’t say a single word until he was seven. The family thought that something was wrong with him. Castinus even had a couple of physicians check if something was going on but everything was alright. Five days after turning seven, he said his first words in a more than perfect way: he wanted his family to make him a flower crown.

• Somehow, Castinus never made him a crown and he was more than sad about it. Right after his words, Castinus went out, picked the flowers and placed a pink and blue flower crown on his little head. Felix, of course, started to run around happily.

• Even as a human child, Felix was extraordinarily strong and big. Other children who were around his age were more than seven inches shorter than him. He could pick up a large sack of wheat from their little barn and bring them to their kitchen. The first time he did it, Argantea was in the garden with her friend Cervella. The women’s eyes sparkled so brightly that Argantea knew someone was coming. Shortly after while she was leaving, Cervella suggested her to send Felix to Antiocheia so that he could become a noble fighter. Argantea kindly smiled and thanked her for finding her son so strong to advise her on such a matter like this, and said that she would think about it.

• She never did. She wasn’t sending her son over the sea to become a warrior. A gladiator. But Felix had already heard what Argantea was talking about and that night, demanded his father to make a sword for him so that he could be like noble warriors. Castinus couldn’t understand where that sudden request came from, but after Argantea told her about what happened with Cervella, and unexpectedly he thought that it was a good idea.

Cervella’s words made little Felix dream about going overseas and having adventures. This dream eventually died when his mother had an argument with his father about his education but Felix never stopped dreaming.

• It took an excessive amount of using persıave skills for Argantea to dissuade her husband of the idea of sending their son to Antiocheia. He seemed to drop the matter since he didn’t want to make his beloved wife sad but had another plan.

• A month later, a relative arrived from the other side of the sea. He was a strong, mountain-like man with muscles so big that Felix’s eyes almost came out of their sockets out of astonishment with them when he first saw him. He was the self-claimed mighty Theophanes, a gladiator and a distant relative of Castinus.

• The family didn’t know but Castinus had bribed him to come to Gerolimenas and teach the young and eager Felix the art of fighting. He, being a failed warrior who was seen as inferior by his peers, gladly accepted the offer and made his way to the town quickly. Castinus thought that he was a good warrior that took down hundreds but in reality, Theophanes was nothing more than a low-middle class warrior who was despised.

• Argantea was more than relieved to welcome Theophanes into their home. She was happy that her son wasn’t going away. At the same time, Felix’s wish was coming true. He was going to learn how to fight and be liked by the big guys. His frame and physical abilities were already superior to other children, it was just a matter of time before he was scouted by palace guards and taken away to get educated. Argantea knew it already.

• They started training right away. Felix was, as expected, unusually talented with anything that required physical force. He would handle the sword Theophanes gave to him so strongly that it wouldn’t even move a half an inch without his will. He would yield the shield he was given so well that Theophanes’s sword strikes couldn’t stand a chance. He wouldn’t even slip. It was when Castinus and the whole family realized that Felix was born to be a warrior. How he moved, how he held the sword, how he threw spears and how self-confident he was while doing all these things mesmerized everyone. Slowly, Argantea warmed against the idea of him going away.

• There was no need. It hadn’t even been a year before Felix started to out-performance Theophanes. He wouldn’t lose, he wouldn’t fall. Theophanes was more than angry about this. He hadn’t thought about teaching a child only for him to be better than him. He was irritated but as he was being paid, he stayed silent.

• People would see Felix and his teacher practicing in the fields. Townsfolk slowly started to show interest in them. They were a big, muscular man and a little child who won against him, the situation created a natural attraction. Day after day, more people would come and watch them. Naturally, Theophanes started being harsher on Felix to prove that he was still the better one. It was a childish fight and he couldn’t even dominate over Felix.

• Until the day when he abruptly unshielded him, kicking him and making him fall to the ground. He drew his swords to the air as if he was going to strike Felix, who was more than scared about what was happening. It was only when Theophanes realized how pitiful of him to kill a child. He stopped. Felix got off the ground. He didn’t run away but he had fury in his eyes.

• That night, Castinus forbid Felix to ever combat with Theophanes ever again when he heard the news. He was quick to tell Theophanes to leave the city too but of course, he didn’t leave.

• After that night, he started practicing alone in their garden. His father would allow him to use sacks of wheat or sand as targets. Regardless of having a real competitor or not, he was still showing progress.

• So much that when he reached age twelve, his fame had reached the other towns around his own and warriors come to offer fights. He would never accept because his mother didn’t allow him to fight. He was already a known warrior by then but never did anything that her mother said no to. He was still a child anyway.

• Up until seventeen, his days revolved around practicing, reading, helping his mother and sisters. Knowing that one day he would become a soldier or something similar, his father didn’t allow him to find a job so that he could spend more time with his family before going away. Felix was growing up rather peaceful beside his hobby. He and his sisters were still helping squirrels that fell from the trees, they would still feed stray cats. Felix was taking care of a stray cat that he named Magnilis, which was a mixture of words “big” and “eyes”. The cat would sleep under the tree where Felix would practice with a wheat sack. Unbothered, she would only wake up when she smelled food.

Growing up with four women, he wasn’t the typical “manly man” of his time. The men were expected to be tough, agressive and leading during his human life. Of course, he had those qualities and would easily show how he had all the qualities of a future warrior but regardless, he preferred to be as calm as his sisters. He was aware that even as a child, he had ambitions, but at the same time, liked spending time in the nature and living smoothly.

• He was good at singing too. He was so good that when Dominica married, he sang a song for her when she was leaving the house. She would never return to her home again, but they weren’t aware of that yet.

• Dominica got pregnant right after her wedding. It was good news, a two-day celebration took place in the household. Six months later, Dominica died during birth. The child, who was a little baby girl, was early and took her mom with her to the other side. It wasn’t an uncommon thing to happen during that time but even though they were ready for bad things, they couldn’t handle it well. It took months for the remaining sisters and Felix to stop sleeping in her old bed in their house. The sound of cries echoed through their home and no one would say a thing about anything.

• Months later, something got revealed that made the whole family furious. As confessed by the maid in Dominica’s home, a lover of her husband had poisoned her, resulting in her death. The family was quicky to find the lover and made her confess. Later, without giving her away to the local judge, they got rid of her. It was the first time Felix had ever shown serious rage. If he wasn’t holding himself, he would’ve ripped the woman’s head off with his bare hands. It was the price she would pay for murdering an innocent woman.

• He didn't realize what he had done was a horrible act. He didn't even feel pity for the maid, he felt absolutely nothing while killing her except the sweet sense of revenge. His mother, however, felt scared. The acts of her son scared him for the first time. 

That was when she realized that Felix was more than just a calm, light-hearted, witty, energetic child of hers — he had wrath in him that waited to combust at any given time. 

• Weeks later, two soldiers came to their house. Argantea realized what was about to happen, but it was his fate anyway and no effort could stop it. The soldiers announced that Felix was to come with them to Constantinople, to be trained as a royal guard for his Majesty.

• It wasn’t what Argantea sensed at all. As a result, she got honestly happy for her son because they weren’t taking him away to punish him but to reward him as a royal guard. He was already eighteen and it was unusual to be taken into the palace that old but Felix was exceptional, and the royal guards had no reason to not recruit such a talented warrior.

• As it was the lesser good, but good anyway. He joined the soldier right away, leaving his family with tears and long hugs. It wasn’t the last time he would see them, but the last time he would see them alive.

• Felix joined the royal guard after being examined. As expected, he was exceptional: he performed so well that the juries didn’t even put him in education for a day. The night before he was a boy, and in the morning, he was a guard, protecting his Majesty. Felix had never seen a royal before, he had a lot of reasons to be excited. He couldn’t sleep the night before being officially recruited. He kept turning in his bed to the point that the men with who he shared the room woke up. He pretended to be asleep, and it didn’t take long for him to fall asleep due to staying as still as a stone. That night, he saw a glorious armour being made, with golden and silver, it had blood on it.

He got used to the guard life easily. Unbeknownst to him, he had a talent for blending in co-operating. He started to rise ranks quickly, most of the guard admired and envied him at the same time.

• Years passed by like a flooded river. He couldn’t catch up with days, and eventually, he started to miss home. How his life contrasted the one he lived now, how he spent time with his sisters, his mother would cook for them and how they would go on hunting with his dad. Those days seemed so old. Even though he loved performing his abilities as a job, he missed living in silence. The feelings and thoughts kept haunting him for months. However, these feelings weren’t coming out of nowhere. He missed his family, yes, but the feelings were enhanced.

• One day, bad news arrived. His hometown had been attacked by foreign raiders. When he heard the news, he prepared for the night and ran away with a horse. He had to kill two other guards to get out. The act of killing would’ve been a night are for him if he was a child but he was grown now and he would kill anybody who messed with anything regarding his family.

• The journey home took weeks. He wouldn’t stop even for a single minute if the horse didn’t need to rest. He was restless. Bad ideas wouldn’t leave his mind. What if his father was killed? What if his sisters were taken away? What about his mother? He couldn’t sleep. He could only believe and those breaths were fueled by pure rage. The rage he would carry to his other life.

• When he arrived at his home’s doorstep, what happened was already obvious: the door was broken and the walls were covered with black soot.

• For one time in his life, he didn’t cry even though his whole body shook with anguish: he directed it outside as an embodiment of another feeling that he was already familiar with — wrath. He drove his sword and stroke anywhere he could see. The walls, torn pillows, vases, glasses... He couldn’t see. He couldn’t feel. His heart was beating to burn his body from inside to outside, to kill the feeling of being lost and having lost everything. No one was left now. No one was breathing. They couldn’t see happy days anymore, they couldn’t go out to pick flowers anymore. They couldn’t live anymore.

• He found their burnt bodies in their little barb. Without understanding why he sensed that they’d tried to hide in there hoping that they wouldn’t be found. But now they were there’ burned to death.

• He laid on the entrance of the barn for two days. He cried, screamed, punched the ground. No one would answer. Almost everyone in the city was dead anyway. Then he got angry with the king for not protecting the city. He hated that he was serving him. He hated that he’d willingly went to protect the king. He hated that he’d started as a child which eventually led him to go away from his family.

• When he got up to leave, without having a route to follow, a man approached him. It was a chilly evening when Felix saw the man, he felt a nervous feeling go down his spine.

• The man had an indulgent expression on his face. Wearing a light grey cloak, he seemed like he knew what he was doing.

• He asked Felix how he was doing. When he tried to answer that he was leaving, he asked again, what he was doing.

• Then it dawned on Felix. He wasn’t doing anything anymore. He wouldn’t return to the palace. He didn’t have a home. He didn’t know anyone. He didn’t have a job to do. He was lost and alone in the whole world.

• Right then, the man asked him to join him. He didn’t say much but made it obvious that he was a powerful man with a large following and an established system of community.

• Felix’s thought about it for a couple of minutes. Then he realized that if his family weren’t alive, there was no point in living a happy life. He was just so, so badly loved his family that his whole will to live disappeared. His breaths felt as if he was inhaling fire. Indeed, he was breathing the smell of his burnt family and home.

• He declined the offer. But the man, determined to persuade him into joining his family, asked him again. This time, demanding him to think thoroughly.

• With a sudden but deep change in his feeling that felt like rising of the seas and swallowing the coasts, he felt his feelings of refusal changed slowly, but irreversibly. Suddenly, the feeling of living for a cause filled him.

• He looked at the face of the man. With eyes black as the night, the man had a sly smile on his face. The answer of acceptance came out of Felix’s mouth with a raucous tone.

It was Charmion, but yet to know about the realities of a world existing without regular people knowing, he couldn’t question his feelings. The change seemed natural to him.

• Then, without being able to tell what’d happened, he felt a burning sensation in his neck. Then, he felt it on his wrist. Suddenly he felt like his eyes went blind and he couldn’t feel anything other than the horrible, horrid feeling of being burned alive. He lost all his senses except pain.

• After the days that felt like an eternity to him, he woke up. He didn’t rise up from his bed with a peaceful mind, he went feral. He literally jumped out of his bed and as he didn’t know how to control his newly gained powers, he accidentally slammed himself to the wall beside the bed he was laying on. Suddenly, he felt like his body was chained onto the wall. It was the power of another guard, Malte, that paralyzed him right there and then to stop him from damaging himself or the things around him.

• He was then taken to the presence of three men. They introduced themselves as Aro, Marcus and Caius. Informing Felix of what he was now and what he was assigned to do, they dismissed him to be taught of the history and laws of Volturi and vampires, the species that he now belonged to.

They’d chosen him for the strength they’ve never seen in anyone before that he possessed.

• He had never seen, heard or imagined such a thing before. The things he was told sounded like fairy tales. Somehow, he couldn’t believe that he now had the eternity to live. He couldn’t understand how he stayed calm and content either because the last emotion he experienced as a human was grief. He was confused. Nevertheless, he felt happiness. Because at least, he was assigned to do what he loved doing and he wouldn’t have to worry about dying or losing anyone anymore. He was staying for the eternity.

[ill-skillsgard]

A Proper Man - Henry Deaver X Mistress

Warning: 18+ mentions of sex/cheating/mature themes. This part: Sex, roleplay-esque degradation/little bit of bum play but not a lot. Please read at your own discretion.

Note: This one takes place directly after Cat Burglars, AKA when I left y’all with a smut cliffhanger ;) Enjoy!

Read more Henry x Mistress here > Masterpost

"Are you teasing me, Mr. Deaver?" Your question carried on a shallow breath.

Henry had you nearly naked on the four-poster bed where Mary slept every night. The soft duvet smelled like her perfume — powdery and fresh, but overloaded and nearly nauseating. It was easy to put from mind when Henry worked your shirt up over your breasts and leaned back to stare at them.

"Teasing? No. I just want to touch you all over first. Is that too much to ask?"

"Certainly not," you giggled as he pressed a kiss to your sternum, tickling you with his five o'clock shadow.

He unbuttoned his shirt and got his tank top halfway off before you pulled him against you and rolled over so you could preside over his body. His eyes grew wide with intrigue, his lips curling into a dreamy smirk. The blushing splotches on his chest matched the shade of the bed cover and you bit your lip to keep yourself from enjoying it too much.

Henry palmed himself through his boxers, expecting you wanted to see him looking needy for you. As delectable as it was when he displayed his stiffness through the thin material, you had a different idea in mind. You straddled him and wiggled your hips back and forth, causing a soft moan to leave his open mouth.

"So," you began, catching his attention right away. "Your wife thinks you like to fuck whores. Tell me, sir, am I just another one of your sluts?"

His eyes widened at first, but he settled his hands on your hips and smirked. "Of course, you are. My little whore."

"Mm-hmm, big man with a great big cock. Only a slut like me knows what to do with a dick like that."

"Come on then. If you want to be my whore, then show me what you do when you make me hard."

His confidence was growing. To look down and see him returning your gaze with ardency filled you with warmth and pride. He brought a slap down on your ass, extorting a squeal from you that made him grin. He clutched at your panties, pulling them up rather than down. He anchored his chin to his chest and watched the material pulling tight over your groin.

"Mm-hmm, squirm for me, baby. I know how bad you need me to spread that pussy open."

The cotton constricting against your clit created a small amount of delicious pressure. He murmured happily, coiling his fingers around the hem until you feared your underwear might rip.

"I can see a little wet spot on your panties. Are you hungry for my cock, you little slut?"

"Yes, sir. I need you to fill me up. Nothing makes me happier than having my whore cunt full of your cock."

Henry couldn't keep himself from throbbing if he tried. You felt the pulse beneath you and stirred your hips again. He sat up and threw you onto your stomach before tearing your panties down to your knees. There was no time to shed them completely as he pressed himself against your ass, letting you feel his erection but not entirely.

"God, you're a nasty one. You want to get fucked on this bed knowing she's going to sleep in it tonight? She's going to be thinking of me putting my cock in your filthy little holes already, so we might as well make it a reality, right?"

"Oh, yes, sir," you moaned with excitement, rubbing back up against him.

He thumbed your slit once and you seethed as he spread your wetness upward. The daring way he approached your ass made you look back with your lip held between your teeth. "Like the way my ass looks, don't you?"

You feared Henry might be losing steam as his brow contorted and a whimper escaped his throat. But he was only preparing to lean down so he could lick you from hole to hole. The move deserved the loudest moan of encouragement you could muster. You didn't know that pride and pleasure could walk hand-in-hand until his tongue flickered against a different tightness. It amazed you to witness his confidence spike every time he tried something new. And he was good at it. You reminded yourself to tell him how impressed you were with his exploration and aptitude.

"Like the way your ass tastes, baby girl. Fuck, I want to eat every inch of you."

"I'd love to let you, sir, but won't we run out of time?"

Henry squeezed your cheeks, absently stroked your velvety lips and gave the middle of your back one loving kiss before he nodded in agreement. "You're right. Suppose I'll just fuck that cunt now and save the rest for later."

He pulled his boxers down and tapped your clit with the head of his cock. He was already glossy with precum and the mixture of your fluid and his made for a smooth entry. A sharp intake of air through his teeth made you grin. Henry cursed under his breath, his hands gripping your hips before he made any movements. It wasn't the first time he paused upon entry. The man loved to bathe in your warmth; to revel in the tightness he deemed a gift for the years he missed out on over-indulgent sex.

"Tell me," Henry began to shift his hips forward. "If you're such a naughty slut, and you love big cock so much, how is it that your little pussy is still so tight for me?"

"My holes were made for you to fuck, sir," you said without skipping a beat.

He enjoyed your answer and made it known with a low groan that told of his astonishment. When you spoke to him during sex, he couldn't save himself for long. Every word and breath that left you nudged him closer to orgasm. It wasn't just the feeling of being enclosed, it was the show you put on for his viewing pleasure, the corruption that fell from your lips.

"You're a bad, bad man. You love whore pussy."

Lost in his pleasure, he nodded, swatted your bum and tried to slow the hurdle toward the end. Time was slipping, and he knew it in the back of his head, but the pressure around his cock, the wet smacking of skin, your ass bouncing against his pelvis; it was exactly what he craved. Henry almost regretted not saving it for home when you had all the time and privacy possible.

"I'm going to come inside you, and you're going to put your panties on right after, understand, slut?"

"Oh, yes, sir. Anything you want."

"That's right," he panted. "You're a good girl. We're not going to leave a big mess. But we'll know, won't we?"

"Yes, sir."

Instead of another groan, the clap of his hand meeting your ass punctuated the last minute before his entire body tensed. Each muscle contracted, even the ones in his throat and he let loose a choked growl as a blissful jolt of too much pleasure hit him. You clenched around him, tightening as much as you could in order to milk every drop he had to give. There was no time to bask in the afterglow. Henry knew that your ballsy romp in his old bed needed to end as fast as it started.

"Pull those panties up. Get dressed. We should get out of here." Henry hardly caught his breath before he planted one more kiss on the base of your spine and scrambled off the bed.

You listened to him without fuss, grabbing your discarded pants and tugging your shirt down to cover your tummy. He worked on smoothing out the wrinkles in the bedspread and then put his own shirt back on. The fading hickey on his collar was hidden away again, but you knew it was there and that was enough. Just like it was enough to know you had both violated his marital bed.

From the bedroom door to the hallway, you giggled and sighed. Henry promised you an orgasm or three after the rescue was over. He combed his fingers through his hair, stopped dead and took in a sharp gasp of air. Your heart flipped from the cut of his shock through the air.

An old woman with strips of grey hair spiralling into a bun on her head inspected Henry and then you, determining quickly that whatever you did in the master bedroom was nothing short of indecent. She clicked her tongue as Henry stammered over an explanation.

"Loretta, isn't it Thursday? You're not supposed to be here today."

Loretta took another judgmental look at Henry and propped her fist on her hip. "And neither are you, young man."

"Um... Yes, I know. I needed—er, I had to grab something."

"And what might that be, Mr. Henry?"

Gromit appeared right on time and she followed his eyes to the cat strutting down the hallway, unaware of the incredible amount of tension between the three people. You had nothing to say in your defence and settled for toying with the hem of your shirt like a berated child. Loretta leaned over, peering past you at the door to the master bedroom. "Better not have left any sort of mess for me in there, Mr. Henry."

"No, no! Of course not! Loretta... I would never!" Henry's offence was genuine. "It's... Have you met my new assistant?"

"Hi," you peeped.

One of Loretta's eyebrows shot halfway up her forehead. There was no fooling a woman like her, you could tell. She carried herself with the grace of a person that had witnessed many things, and not all of them good. She studied you, nodded her head and pulled an eyeglass cleaning cloth out of a deep pocket in her uniform. With a sigh, she took off her glasses and began to polish the lenses.

"Miss Mary has me come while she's not home. Schedule changed. Less hours now," she informed.

Henry's back straightened. "What? She's giving you fewer hours?"

"Yessir," she nodded.

"I'm sorry, Loretta. I had no idea."

The woman didn't appear fretful over the situation. "It's no matter. More time to spend with my grandkids."

Henry bent down to scoop up Gromit. You saw the first touch of a smile crack over her lips as she placed her glasses back on her nose.

"I'm sure you're aware of what's been going on. Mary and I are getting divorced. I just wanted to gather the rest of my things," Henry gently explained, as though one slip of the tongue might send her into a fit. The woman was stoic though, only undulating a slow nod as your boyfriend revealed the reason for his sudden presence after weeks of being gone.

"Just the cat?" She asked.

"Yes, just Gromit."

Loretta sighed through her nose and you feared she might put her foot down and refuse to let you leave with the cat. Then a wave of mischief crept through the lines of her face and she smiled again. "I'll tell Miss Mary the cat ran out the back door while the kitchen floors were drying. Take that creature away from here and give him love. Lord knows, he needs some since you've been gone, Mr. Henry."

Henry giggled with boyish delight and kissed between Gromit's ears, dancing up to Lorretta to place the same happy smooch on her cheek. "This is why I love you, Loretta. And if you need more hours, call me. I still have the condo."

Loretta pointed at the grandfather clock across from an ornate credenza lining the vast hall. "Miss Mary will be back from her book club in thirty minutes. I suggest you be on the opposite end of town by then."

"Thank you, Lory."

"And girl," Loretta halted you. "Treat Mr. Henry proper. He's a proper man. Respectful. I reckon he deserves some good love."

You chuckled, nerves soothing beneath the warmth of her gaze. "I reckon you're correct, ma'am. I'll do my best."

"Begone now, children."

[xautunno]

Munto - King and Queen - Pt. 3

Colloquies 

.

Yumemi watched from her perch as the sky blended into a set of distant yellows, pinks, and overwhelming indigo. The grass did little to cushion her from the rocky ground, but she didn't bother to move. Not when in the far distance floated an unseeable land filled with possible snakes. A land her husband currently ventured through.

The night would be a long one.

Her bed empty upon her return for sleep, she felt the loneliness like a physical blow. Heart like a dead weight, she slipped beneath silk sheets and settled against the soft pillow.

Yumemi woke to the cool breeze of the night on several occasions. The first had her heart racing and a cold, sheen of sweat coated her from head to toe. She woke a few hours later, legs tangled in the sheets and tears stinging her eyes.

She had no choice but to rise from the bed just before sunrise. Sleep hung over her like a dense fog, but if the maids noticed, they never mentioned it. They helped her dress for breakfast where she ate for the first time in a long time, utterly alone.

"Highness?" A voice stopped her down the hall, the sound of rushed footsteps following. "What are we to do?"

The Queen furrowed her brow and turned to face the man in front of her. He outmatched her by at least a foot and wore the fitting robes of a military advisor.

"To do?" She felt sick.

Had she missed something?

"Y-yes, ma'am. Should King Munto not return and the negotiations end poorly… what should we have in place?" Munto had been undoubtedly sure of his success and left without hesitation.

"I hope you do not doubt our king…" Words coated in ice, she narrowed her eyes on him.

"Of course not!" His declaration a bit loud, he cleared his throat and lowered his voice, "I am simply asking what would you have us prepare if war happened upon us by nightfall? A worst case scenario."

Yumemi thought of that herself. Her husband left no instruction but left everything in her hands.

"If my husband fails to return and the negotiations are called off by nightfall," the man audibly gulped at the venomous tone, "I would have every able body strengthening our defenses. I will not prepare for war until it is decided we are at war."

"Of course." He bowed to her prepared to depart, but she stopped him.

"If war is to come, I want every advisor to meet with me in the council room. We will discuss then our next steps." Yumemi's jaw uncharacteristically locked at she spit out the next few words, "we will avenge our fallen king and protect our homelands no matter the cost."

Standing a bit straighter, he curtly bowed and turned on his heel to leave.

In her many years here at the Magical Kingdom, there were those who still viewed her as Yumemi-hime. Their princess. Their savior. They were not wrong to so, however, her innocent nature shed by the time she finished college and made this kingdom her permanent home.

Yumemi spent most of her early adult life mingling with the courts Munto grew up in. She practiced her manners, learning delicate etiquette, and diplomacy. She could smile prettily at the lords and ladies, keeping her fangs hidden while her claws did most of the talking.

No one doubted her ability to be brutally honest and sincere since she turned twenty and single-handedly refuted three marriage proposals by publically shaming their indecency and ill-manners at a formal event rather than simply saying no. She made it clear that such rudeness under the king's invitation was undignified for their position especially when she hid nothing about her true relationship with the king.

She took to a no-nonsense attitude and would shut down any ill-thought or gossip she deemed inappropriate. It had been thought of as a horrible decision on her part since no one would share information with her. Gossip could hurt, especially gossip about her private life with the king.

Yumemi solved the issue when she first made regular trips to visit Munto during high school. The time it took for the servants of the palace to undoubtedly love and trust her was astonishing. They'd hear fleeting words here and there, lords and ladies letting things slip when they didn't notice the help around. Those same words finding their way to Yumemi during breakfast or when she strolled in the gardens. Occasionally, and only if urgent, they would interrupt her studies.

In return, they never doubted Yumemi's ability to handle a situation without Munto's aid. Should a guest be making inappropriate advances, their future Queen then would have no issue stopping her work to track down the offender and corner him into apologizing. Most likely in a public space where multiple witnesses were. If Munto didn't see it, he'd hear about it by the time she returned.

Not that he would dare interfere. Yumemi never gave a reason for him to doubt her loyalty to either his nation or himself. Her loyalty prevailed over the course of almost a decade without caution.

She defended not only himself personally, but advisors, staff, and in general, his people, should she find them deserving of it. She didn't care what others gossiped about or their opinion on her, to the point she disregarded her own safety to get her point across. About the only thing that ever really upset him.

Yumemi continued on her way to the gardens. Despite the tremendous weight on both her shoulders and heart, her back remained straight, hands closed together in front of her and chin held high. She kept her strides even and graceful, letting the soles of her feel skim across the cool floors like a dancer.

The crown, a heavy burden, gave her headaches the first month she wore it. Every few hours, a powerful and compelling urge to toss it aside plagued her. But then, she'd catch a glimpse of Munto in his formal robes, the crown framing a stern face while he walked with Rui. She couldn't toss it aside. Even if it would make her days easier to bear, even if she felt she could perform her duties appropriately without it, she never removed it. Merely, she endured.

Those same thoughts and feelings plagued her now. She wanted to toss it in the nearest garbage can she could find and let her hair out of the terribly tight braid. It had been fine this morning, but now it felt as if though a child climbed on her back to play with the golden strands and leave her scalp bruised.

Away from prying eyes, Yumemi plopped herself down on the nearest stone bench and tugged the band from her hair. She removed the diadem so she could brush her hair out.

The sun high in the sky, she relaxed under its warm rays. She could almost doze off.

She knew he wasn't there. His stomach didn't press against her back while he bent over to cup her cheek and gaze lovingly at her. Callose hands didn't smooth the wrinkles of worry from her forehead.

He didn't whisper, "my Queen has endured quite the hardship."

He didn't kiss her forehead, keeping her close while he murmured sweet nothings. Didn't wipe the stay tear from her cheek at the thought of him.

Yumemi couldn't bear to sleep alone. She had never been truely alone before. Family and friends surrounded her since she breathed the air of this world deep into her lungs with a cry.

Her bed had been occupied by one other for years now and during meals, she always had the same, redheaded, charming, and sweet companion who never failed to bring a smile to her face or a burst of joy from her heart at the sight of him. Never had he failed to please her or make her feel loved since the first moment they kissed. He slid that ring onto her finger, promising her forever, but he felt so far that the ring only served as a heavy reminder.

Swallowing her tears, Yumemi peeked open her eyes, partially surprised to find herself alone.

"Your highness." She closed her eyes, sighing at the call.

"Yes?" She made no effort to move. Not yet.

"The council wishes to speak with you. To prepare appropriately."

And like that, her sorrow vanished. Her heart hardened as she stood, brushing her hair back with a flick of her wrist and returned her crown to its rightful place.

With the regal appearance of Catherine the Great, she stalked down the hallway with the grace befitting royalty and with the eyes of a wild feline. Like Borte Ujin, when she entered the room, advisors stood in respect knowing the king valued her opinion above all others and entrusted the kingdom to her care.

Her hands held no callous of war but beneath her fair skin lied unimaginable power that many still feared. And the girl of destiny knew it. No restraint beyond moral reasoning kept her in check of those powers.

Reaching her chair at the head of the table, the seat her husband frequented recently the past few months, she twirled on the ball of her foot to address the room. She didn't speak as her eyes did most of the talking. Evaluating each and every member present.

Then, she seated herself and gestured for them to do the same.

"Tell me, what defenses can we have in place in the shortest amount of time?"

[garethito]

Today is the 26th of May, 2019. This is one of the most important dates in my life, because I am celebrating the 1st anniversary of the best moment in my entire football fan life, which happened one year ago, today.

26th May, 2018. Oh, how much this day means to me. The day in which I saw history being written by my idol, Gareth Frank Bale, the day I saw him be the player who had the best performance in an UCL Final, by scoring what is, for me personally, the best goal in the history of football, and an incredible long shot goal.

I would like to start by saying that there is nothing that could ever come close to that night. Absolutely nothing. I have never witnessed something like that before, and I don't think I will again, I don't think anything will ever come close to this, unless Gareth scores a hattrick in the World Cup Final or something, lol. This is something I intend to tell my grandchildren about, this is something that nobody could ever understand how much I cherish, this is something that will be in my memory for eternity.  I think about that night every single day of my life, and I have seen those goals billions of times. Never in my entire life have I been so surprised, shocked, happy, proud, astonished. Never in my life have I cried like in that night. Never. Absolutely never. I have looked at my life as a person, at my hardest times, when I cried a lot, but not even that can even slightly compare to the amount of crying that I have done on that glorious day of May 1 year ago. But in the best way possible, the happiest tears that I have ever shedded.

For me, it wasn't an ordinary Saturday. I wasn't getting prepared to do my homework, or to have a normal day. I was preparing for the Champions League Final. ”Real Madrid vs Liverpool”, ”UCL final is today!” were the subjects in everyone's conversations. We were on the way to write very important history that day, we were to be crowned Champions of Europe for the 13th time, for the 4th time in 5 years and for the 3rd time in a row. And boy, did we write history that night. La Decimotercera. Even the mere name sounds like the prettiest trophy name to me, a symbol of our history and of the fact that we are the best team in the whole world. This remains my favorite Champions League Final, La Decima being the close second.

I was so scared, of course, it's a freaking Champions League Final! And I feel like as years go by, I get more and more scared of the Champions League. But, I was also very excited because duuuh, it's a Champions League Final, lol! My whole emotional state was ruined, however, by Gareth not starting. I don't need to explain the whole February-May Gaz-Zidane 2018 situation, because I think everyone knows it too well by now and my opinion on it. I had never been so enraged in my entire life (up until then at least, wait for another year @me lmao). After all he has done, still no place in the starting XI. This whole situation really, really angered me, and I was so freaking disappointed. He SO deserved to play until the start, I thought. But, coming to think about it, maybe he wouldn't have done what he did if he had played from the start? He himself admitted that what he did was hugely based on his anger. So, in a way, I am grateful he was a substitute. That was even more amazing for him, because he did THAT while being a substitute, which is way more impressive!

The match started. Both Real Madrid and Liverpool were going at it. The first half was eventful, because there was that whole Sergio – Mo Salah drama, and poor Carva also got injured, but thank God he managed to play in the World Cup!

Halftime at 0-0, my optimism honestly grew. I felt like we will have more urgency in the second half and that we would win.

The second half came, with me just desperately hoping for a goal. Because we were playing so well, we deserved a reward!! And it did come, with Benzema's goal, God I felt so relieved and happy. I have seen people saying that his goal was not good but? You literally take everything that is being offered to you in a Champions League final! He scored, he gave us a goal, we were 1-0 up, and I was I was the happiest person alive. God, I love my team. Then, Liverpool's equalizer came. I didn't think anything of it. I wouldn't get rid of my optimism. I was looking at my boys and I knew we would win.

And Oh My God, here we fucking go. 

Minute 61. Gareth comes on. I was so grateful that he at least got to play 30 minutes, I literally only wanted to see him. At that time, considering everything that was happening, I was already emotionally starting to prepare for his departure to another team. I was watching him in those moments, flashbacks through my mind of all the glorious times I got to see him, all of his goals, everything.

But I could only think for 2 minutes. Because, 63:01 came. That moment. The one that takes it all. The creme de la creme of moments. The moment in which my soul definitely left my body. The most beautiful moment I have ever lived as a football fan. The moment in which I was the proudest person alive. A moment I will never, ever, ever forget, for as long as I get to live. The moment I have literally seen history being made, right before my eyes. The moment in which I literally evaporated, left the Earth, idk how to explain this but I hope you understand me. My idol, that had suffered so much because of unfair decisions that season, scored a fucking bicycle kick in a FUCKING UCL FINAL. ARE YOU KIDDING ME. The happiest, most full of joy, best, most emotional moment. Ever. In My Life. No exaggeration. Surely, for everyone that moment was a shock, because literally no one, not even me, expected him to score such a goal, considering the situation. But what I felt in those moments cannot be explained with words. In this 1 year, since this moment has happened, I have been trying to find suitable words to describe how I felt during those moments, but still, to this day, I cannot find words to describe my feelings. My idol had the best moment of his career, so even to say that I was the happiest, proudest person on the entire planet is an understatement. I literally felt like I reached Heaven. I had never started crying so fast in my entire life, and I had never cried that much in my entire life. And, as if that wasn't enough, 82:43 came. And he scored ANOTHER goal, this time a long shot. And in that moment, I literally died lmao. I was definitely the proudest person alive, the happiest and the most full of love. Like, can you imagine this? Your idol has arguably the best season at Real Madrid, but gets disrespected in the UCL by the coach. He then comes and gets his revenge in the final, and puts in the best performance ever in an UCL final. It's something that these simple words can't describe, your mind goes crazy and that's the only thing you think about forever basically lol. AND, he almost got a hattrick! But he was dispossesed at the last second, unfortunately.

And then?

We fucking won it. We DID IT. THE DECIMOTERCERA WAS OURS.

In the moment in which Sergio lifted it I... I don't have words, did I go into another Universe, did I ascend, did my soul leave my body I don't even know but what I do know is that I spent the rest of the night, up until like 6AM, crying my heart out. And this is what I mean by ”I have never cried so much in my entire life”. Like I have never spent a whole night crying.

And then, of course, the celebrations, Cibeles, Bernabeu... of course your sensitive girl bawled her eyes out again lol!

Thank you, Gareth Bale, for being the incredible person that you are and for blessing the world with such a performance.

Thank you, Real Madrid, for being the best club in the world and for blessing the world with such a performance.

26th of May, 2018. Forever in my heart.

Hala Gareth y Madrid Y Nada Mas! ♥

[johnnymundano]

Four Flies on Grey Velvet (1971) (AKA 4 mosche di velluto grigio)

Directed by Dario Argento

Screenplay by Dario Argento

Story by Dario Argento and Luigi Cozzi

Music by Ennio Morricone

Country: Italy

Running Time: 104 minutes

CAST

Michael Brandon as Roberto Tobias

Mimsy Farmer as Nina Tobias

Jean-Pierre Marielle as Gianni Arrosio

Bud Spencer as Godfrey

Aldo Bufi Landi as Pathologist

Calisto Calisti as Carlo Marosi

Marisa Fabbri as Amelia, the Maid

Oreste Lionello as The Professor

Fabrizio Moroni as Mirko

Corrado Olmi as Porter

Stefano Satta Flores as Andrea

Laura Troschel as Maria

Francine Racette as Dalia

Four Flies on Grey Velvet is considered by the chalk-and-elbow-patches crowd to be the third movie in Argento’s Animal Trilogy, which is a bullshit after-the-fact attempt to thematically tether The Bird With The Crystal Plumage (1970), Cat O’Nine Tails (1971) and Four Flies on Grey Velvet together. Is a fly an animal? No. Is there a cat in Cat O’Nine Tails? I can’t remember, actually, there might be; Italians love them some cats. Anyway, a cat o’nine tails isn’t actually a cat. More importantly Four Flies on Grey Velvet was intended to be Argento’s sayonara to the giallo. His next movie was The Five Days (1973) a comedy-drama set during the anti-Austrian revolt of 1848. Unluckily for Argento it bombed, luckily for Argento and the world of cinema he would then make Deep Red (1975). As a movie four Flies on Grey Velvet is very uneven and not a little ridiculous, but taken as a giallo, it’s the real deal. Ultimately, though, its greatest value is as an artistic step on the way to Argento’s masterpiece, Deep Red.  

Dario Argento is by no means the greatest director ever, he is, however, arguably the greatest giallo director ever. And as arguments go it’s a short one: it’s either Argento or Mario Bava. But no matter who you personally adore, Argento is very much at the top of the heap and any of his giallo up to (and including) Opera (1987) are among the very best the genre can offer. Obviously this includes Four Flies on Grey Velvet , but equally obviously his best movies are still giallo, possibly more giallo than most. Argento’s movies are not venerated because they are great movies, they are venerated because they are great giallo. Although with Four Flies on Grey Velvet you can expect one of the greatest giallo ever, you should not confuse that with expecting a great movie; certainly not one of the greatest ever. Just trying to manage expectations for giallo newbies. Look, Four Flies on Grey Velvet is an amazingly entertaining, visually inventive and thoroughly bizarre time, flaws and all.

Big-haired rock drummer Roberto Tobias (Michael Brandon) is persistently stalked by a creepy dude in sunglasses. One night after laying down some sweet beats in rehearsal, Roberto snaps and tracks the dude to a deserted theatre where a violent confrontation occurs; there is a scuffle, a knife is drawn, and when the kerfuffle is over Roberto is stood over a body. A spotlight snaps on and a figure wearing a freakily vacuous mask captures Roberto’s compromised form on film. Unsettled by the incident, at night Roberto dreams of a ritual beheading in an arena while during the day his already strained relationship with his wife, Nina (Mimsy Farmer), erodes further. When Roberto is attacked in his own home by a mysterious assailant he confides in Nina and, unable to go to the police due to his accidental murdering, enlists the help of his friend Godfrey (Bud Spencer) and The Professor (Oreste Lionello), both of whom are weird hobo types, for reasons known only to Dario Argento. Things get (more) complicated quickly with blackmail, a flamboyantly gay detective, adultery, stylish murders, a dead cat in a bag, a machine that can photograph the last thing a dead person saw, Ennio Morricone’s syrupy score, and a cumulative air of feverish irrationality as Roberto attempts to unmask his tormentor before death silences his cymbals forever.

Roberto’s cymbals are a crucial element in Four Flies on Grey Velvet’s incredible opening; it’s a full frontal assault on cinematic complacency, a dynamic reminder that when it comes to giallo Argento is simply on a different level. It’s one of the most thrilling pieces of cinema I’ve sat through; I hope it is taught in ivied halls of learning; it should be. An incredible amount of information is thrown into the viewer’s face, so much so that in any other hands it would just be a perplexing mess. But these aren’t just anyone’s hands, these are Dario Argento’s hands and so pin sharp editing, meticulous pacing, visual rhythm and a sly wit carry the day. Any viewer who fails to be enraptured by Argento’s showmanship in this opening hasn’t got a chance with the rest of the movie. Because, unfortunately, Four Flies on Grey Velvet never gets that good again. But a lot of movies never get anywhere near that good, and a lot of directors can only dream of being that good, so let’s not get too rainy faced about it.

Any tears on offer should be shed over my being an idiot, spending the last few decades reading about this movie and thinking “Michael Brandon” was just another screen name designed to fool American punters. You know, like George Hilton (Jorge Hill Acosta y Lara) or, more pertinently here, Bud Spencer (Carlo Pedersoli). But no, it is indeed Michael Brandon (Michael Brandon), a familiar sight on TV during my youth in “Dempsey and Makepeace” (1985-86). And he’s very good in Four Flies on Grey Velvet, being curiously detached in a wholly suitable fashion for the peculiar cinematic confection he inhabits. “Dempsey and Makepeace” was shit, though. Mimsy Farmer has a good time, delivering the acting goods and, unknowingly, limbering up for her headlining triumph in The Perfume of the Lady in Black (1974). Even though I found the humour as funny as bad news from the doctor, Bud Spencer proves to be a ridiculously affable screen presence, if perhaps a bit too “normal” for the folderol unfolding around him. Thankfully, Jean-Pierre Marielle is great as the gay detective, Gianni Arrosio. Usually a gay character in a giallo is where you have to grit your teeth and mumble something like “Um, that’s sure not aged well. Cough!” But, while slightly overplaying the falsetto, Marielle presents a gay character who is funny, fearless and, alas, just a bit too smart for his own good in the end.

Like any Argento movie, Four Flies on Grey Velvet isn’t perfect, but it is perfect in parts. Argento isn’t interested in every scene, so the movie kind of flops bonelessly in-between set pieces. There are a few too many party scenes involving hirsute men telling creepy jokes, and the unfunny comedy hobos seem to have stumbled blithely in from some other movie (a Bud Spencer movie, naturally enough). If it weren’t for the intrinsic entertainment value of the 1970s,  via its preposterous clothes and spirited hair stylings, a lot of the movie would fall a lot flatter. As L. P. Hartley didn’t say: The past is another country, they look like children’s entertainers there. And there aren’t really that many set pieces, or there are a lot of really small set pieces; Argento seems to take a disproportionate amount of pleasure in trying to find the most stylish way to shoot the most innocuous of actions. Which is nice and very entertaining, but you wish he’d expended as much artistic energy on some of the dialogue scenes as he does on a letter being received. Argento has his own artistic priorities which viewers are not privy to, and which seem shaped by his own idiosyncrasies rather than the needs of the movie as a cohesive narrative. He’s all over the place, basically. But when he’s on, well then, bang a gong. And Argento’s on far more than he isn’t. When he is good he is very, very good and when he isn’t you’re not too bothered because in a minute or so he’ll be very, very good again. You can’t get more giallo than that.

A note on the print: Four Flies on Grey Velvet is the least familiar Argento giallo to me as it was “lost” for a while prior to 2009, but it is now freely available. I watched the Shameless UK Blu-Ray of Four Flies on Grey Velvet. This is a gussied up print which looks a little soft, but pretty great. You can see just how much work has been done by choosing to view the version with the “missing 40 seconds” included. These 40 seconds are untouched and are…horrible. So horrible I guess they can’t be salvaged. Luckily they are also pretty trivial, so you can watch the version of the movie which excludes them and enjoy a lovely picture, secure in the knowledge that you’re missing nothing. Well, missing nothing except evidence of the astonishing job Shameless’ technical homunculi have  done. [Ticker tape parade erupts out of a side-street!]

[renzywenzy]

Avengers: Infinity War Review

So after what felt like an eternity, I was able to finally watch "the most ambitious crossover” in film history; albeit, I had to watch it for homework.

I am most likely the last person to ever review this film so I feel as if some significant weight is off my shoulders but that doesn’t mean I’ll resort to lazy critiquing as a movie of this grandeur deserves in-depth analysis.

So with that being said, let’s take a closer look at the initial half of the culmination of a decade’s worth of films and build-up.

*Spoiler Warning*

Pros

1. The Protagonist Perspective

For years, the weakest part of most Marvel Cinematic Universe films have been the villains. Underdeveloped, forgettable, or just plain lame. Go ahead, tell me with a straight face that Ronan was a credible threat. Try to convince me that Yellowjacket was a compelling antagonist. Do you even remember the name of the villain from Thor 2?

The villains didn’t really become interesting until after Civil War in 2016 with people like Killmonger, Egon, and Hela seemingly breaking that curse; but, that meant we had to deal with nearly 8 years of uninspired baddies.

Thanos, however, is the biggest example of the MCU finally getting their main villains right. He’s credible, his character develops throughout the film, he has believable motivations that come from a place of personal experience. And I think what really makes Thanos’ character work is simply this: HE is the true protagonist of the film. Yes, he is still the villain, yes, he is the still the “bad guy” yes, the movie is called “AVENGERS: Infinity War” but if you really think about it, his is the main perspective of the film. He’s the protagonist of this movie just as much as Tony Stark was for his 3 Iron Man movies.

I mean Thanos gets the most character development, he has the most screentime, he makes significant sacrifices, it’s his origins that are explored more, and it’s his journey to getting the Infinity Stones -- not about the Avengers protecting the universe -- that’s front and center. It’s his emotions that matter most in the film. That’s not to say that everybody else’s feelings mean little, it just means that it’s that of Thanos that mean the most.

Let me give you an example. When Thanos, with Gamora, was about to retrieve the Soul Stone, the condition was that he had to sacrifice someone he loved. As Gamora taunted him at the idea that he never loved anyone but himself, Thanos sheds a tear as she comes to the realization that he did love at least one person. The Mad Titan, with visible pain in his face, grabs Gamora as she struggles to break free and then tosses her as sacrifice to finally obtain the Stone.

Now, this scene was emotional and painful. However, to me, it wasn’t so because of Gamora’s death, it wasn’t because the Guardians lost a member, it wasn’t even because Star-Lord lost a loved one. It was emotional and painful because Thanos lost someone he loved and the movie, itself, makes that a point. At that moment as well other moments throughout the film, it’s framed in a way that you aren’t meant to feel for anybody else other than Thanos.

That’s partly the reason why the ending worked but I’ll get to that later on.

2. Maintaining the Balance

There’s a flashback scene early in the film that shows a young Gamora meeting Thanos for the first time as the Mad Titan conquers her planet. He’s impressed by the little one’s grit so he takes her in and their first significant interaction is when he gives her a dual bladed knife and teaches her to balance the knife on her finger. This scene showed two things (1 from a character perspective and 2 from a film perspective): #1 Thanos has an obsession with keeping the balance of the universe  and #2 This is how the filmmakers balance the large cast they have.

There are a LOT of characters in this film. Iron Man, Captain America, Thor, Black Panther, the Guardians, Spider-Man, Doctor Strange and so on and so on and so on all the way to so forth. So I can only imagine how difficult it is, from a filmmakers’ perspective, to give the proper amount of screen time for everybody here.

What really helped was how previous movies developed the characters we see on-screen. These characters such as Iron Man, Thor, and Captain America have been given enough time to grow and now, their individual arcs have each reached their full potentials so that means we don’t need to see more development from them. We just want to see them kick some names and take ass (I had to).

I said in my previous point that Thanos had the most screentime of all the main characters. He clocks in at just a little over 29 minutes. In comparison, Iron Man and Thor both have less than 20 minutes with 18 min. and 15. respectively. Cap. America has less than 7 minutes. That’s how little time they actually got in a film that’s over 150 minutes long and yet somehow, some way, the Russo Bros. were able to give each character more than enough to do to make every single second of their screentime count. Not a moment wasted whenever characters showed up and that was key seeing as how huge this cast was.

I applaud the Russo’s for taking on this hefty task and I don’t think anyone (apart from maybe Joss Whedon, director of the first Avengers film) could’ve handled this cast as well as they did.

3. “Strange Alchemy” 

The Russo’s have a phrase called “Strange Alchemy” and they use it to describe the first meetings of certain characters. This is basically how fundamentally different personalities but equally big egos interact with one another for the first time.

I must say that this was one of the aspects I was worried about going into the movie. How do you make the initial interactions entertaining while at the same time, making sure each person stays true to their character?

The answer was actually a simple yet effective formula. (Keep in mind that this isn’t exactly the formula of “Strange Alchemy.” This is what I think they meant.)

The formula is basically this: Meet up in a undesired manner, do some back and forth bantering, mix in just a little bit of conflict of interests, and then top it off with a shared end goal.

Look at the interaction between Iron Man and The Guardians; specifically, Quill. They meet by instantly fighting each other thinking that the other works for Thanos. After their fight is settled by the realization that neither serve Thanos, they eventually start talking, wisecracking, some insults are thrown, and then they butt heads on how to reach their end goal. Both want to defeat Thanos but in their own ways.

Simply put, this formula works for all the initial main character interactions because it’s just how we wanted to see these first meetings play out. You see this same formula repeated with Dr. Strange and Iron Man then Thor and the Guardians. Their first meetings are not only incredibly entertaining but all were appropriate to their characters and most importantly, it’s this “Strange Alchemy” formula that helps establish chemistry right off the bat.

4. Russos + James Young + Action = Gold 

One thing I’ve lauded the Russos for is their style of directing action. The choreography itself is amazing (Thank you, James Young) but the way the Russos present each fight frame by frame is astonishing.

It began with Captain America: The Winter Soldier. I noticed how the hand-to-hand combat became much more complex and it felt like I was watching a tribute to Bruce Lee films while also mixing it in with the over-the-top nature of a typical comic book movie. It all flowed so well to the point that it became distinct. If a Marvel film didn’t have the combination of the Russos directing and Young choreographing, you could notice the decline in quality in terms of stunt coordination. Age of Ultron, for example, didn’t have this combination and the fights were nowhere near as good as The Winter Soldier or Civil War.

What worried me initially was how the Russos and Young were going to choreograph this film in particular. Before this film, the Russos were primarily directing Marvel films wherein the fights were still pretty contained. I mean the biggest fight in Civil War was in an airport with no people (suspiciously). Here, the battles HAD TO BE much larger in scale so it worried me that the Russos and Young wouldn’t be able to capture the same choreographic magic that they had previously. Thankfully, I was wrong. Every film they directed and choreographed before was practice for this film. It all flowed so beautifully and almost every character had their own spot in terms of action.

You can still tell though when the Russos and Young are a little out of their comfort zone. By that I mean they’ve poured so much of their flair into Captain America that it feels like he’s their best source of pure choreography. It’s no wonder Cap has more action scenes than Thor despite having less screen time and that’s because between Cap’s fighting style and Thor’s fighting style, the former is more synonymous with the Russos and Young by now. But Thor still makes an impact even with just a handful of fight scenes.

My only worry is that they won’t be able to top the fights here  with the next film Endgame...but maybe from a tonal perspective, it’s not meant to.

5. Oh..

That ending. That was honestly one of the most shocking endings to a Marvel film (or any film for that matter) that I’ve ever witnessed.

I honestly can’t do justice to this scene but let me just say that it was shocking in the best way possible. It was amazing how the entire film was setting up for that moment so in a way, you can see it happening but it was still so unpredictable on how it would turn out. Will all the Avengers disappear? Will only 2 or 3 of them remain? Will the new guys be around? Will the older Avenger disappear for the newer ones to take their place? Will only the Avengers remain and 90% of Earth gone. Anything could have happened with the Snap and it was certainly a jaw dropping moment seeing them disappear into thin air. Bucky, T’Challa, Peter Parker, Quill, Fury, Wanda, Vision, Strange. All of them and more gone and not just people from Earth. It was half the the entire  universe at stake so even non-Earthlings were in jeopardy. Drax is gone, Groot is gone. It was an appropriate silent moment of just reflecting on what just happened.

And...it was honestly satisfying. Like if the entire film franchise just ended here, I honestly would have been fine with it and that’s largely because of point #1 above. It was so masterfully set up and executed that in my opinion, there’s almost no way that Marvel can satisfyingly bring back all the characters. You know that Endgame will reverse these effects but the problem is that they’ve ended so beautifully that I don’t think the scene where they all come back will ever top this final scene.

Props to Marvel Studios for being mature and having the balls to do this even if they will eventually undo it.

All their Marvel films have had these happy and triumphant endings so it’s just a nice change of pace to see the antagonistic good guys lose and the villainous protagonist win.

Cons

Alright I’ve talked about positives enough so now let’s get into some of the things the movie doesn’t do quite as well. It’s a near 3 hour film with a decade’s build-up so obviously not everything is gonna hit so here are just a few misses. Some of these are just my own little nitpicks but they still bother me a bit so I might as well put them in. Also, I’m gonna do something a bit different for these points where I put in a small sub point after each one.

1. Too Many Chefs in the Kitchen

There were over 15 films leading up to Infinity War and among those films, you had 14 different directors. These directors included the Russos, Kenneth Branagh, Jon Favreau, Taika Waititi, Shane Black, and many more. Each director brought their own style and handled the characters in different ways.

Now, imagine this. You’re the director of Infinity War and you just finished directing Captain America: Civil War, a movie where you further established how gritty you can get with these Marvel films. You’re about to direct Infinity War and now you have to direct the character of Thor who just came from Ragnarok, a complete genre reboot wherein the director made comedy a much more prominent aspect than almost anything else. Ragnarok favored the “ba dum chhh” category jokes rather than the natural flow of jokes found in the Avengers. Remember, you just came from a gritty film and now you have to direct a potential darker film but now you have to insert this sitcom-style character into your grittier style. Easy, right?

You see the Russo Bros. know how to handle sitcom-like characters. They directed episodes of Arrested Development which is one of the greatest sitcoms ever. BUT, they just didn’t know how mix these tones together in one package.

For example, you had the scene with Iron Man and Dr. Strange. They’re scene was much more natural in terms of joking wherein a joke just happened to be there because it was an appropriate moment but it got serious when it needed to be. But then all of a  sudden, you cut to the Guardians where the jokes are more obviously set up and comedy becomes the priority and seriousness comes much much later on. It’s a bit of a jarring shift in tone. However, the biggest elephant in the room is how Ragnarok’s tone was never in this film. Guardians and Ragnarok have two different types of comedy.

Guardians is more like How I Met Your Mother wherein comedy is important and abundant but the rare quiet scenes are put into focus when they pop up and they don’t throw a joke to cheapen the moment.

Ragnarok is more like a Comedy Central Roast show where it’s jokes, jokes, jokes, jokes and almost no ounce of seriousness and anything that should be incredibly serious is made into a set up for a punchline (just watch the ending of Ragnarok where the FUCKING DESTRUCTION OF ASGARD, THE HOME WHERE THEY HAD THEIR MOST PRECIOUS MEMORIES, is reduced to a set up for a joke that’s not even that funny). No significant scene in this film consistently has Ragnarok’s style of comedy which is kind of a good thing in isolation but overall a negative because of how inconsistent the tone has been as a whole.

Sub Point for 1.

Actually, Thor’s films have always been an anomaly. You had the Shakespearean-like tale of redemption with Thor (2011) which was a solid introduction, then you had the utterly forgettable unintended B-movie tribute Thor:The Dark World which nobody will ever ever talk about when it comes to the best Marvel Studio films, and then you had the genre reboot that is Ragnarok which is everything I described in the previous paragraph. Not only that but the endings of each of his films (which all serve as important plot points for future films) are just negated nonchalantly in the next Thor appearance. Don’t believe me? Well...

..2011′s Thor sees the character not being to able to return the Earth because the rainbow road (yes, I’m calling it that) has been shattered but then bam! there he is in Earth in the Avengers like nothing happened. Then The Dark World has Loki faking his death and pretending to be Odin. Sounds like it’s gonna become so important in the next film, right? Ughh no that’s solved in the first fucking act of Ragnarok. But wait, Ragnarok ends with Asgard destroyed but its people are flying in space searching to establish a new home. All the adventures they could possibly have...never happen because they’re killed off-screen in the first 2 minutes of Infinity War (don’t get me wrong, as an opener for the film, that scene was great but as a follow-up to Ragnarok’s ending, not so much).

I know it sounds like I’ve ragged on Thor too much but it’s only because I want his films to have the same quality as his billionaire teammate and his shield bearing friend. As of right now, he’s in the right track so let’s hope the Russos and the future directors of Thor-centered films can keep this up.

2. Signed and Sealed by Quill 

Now, there are quite a bit of out-of-character moments in this film. Like Loki, the man smart enough to fake his own death, suddenly forgetting he had a brain when he tried to go toe-to-toe with Thanos, the guy who took about 15 seconds to destroy Hulk who himself demolished Loki in 5 seconds (still a great scene). Then there’s the Hulk who’s being a bit of a drama king which is very weird and there’s no good explanation other than he just doesn’t want to.

But the biggest blot is one Peter Quill and I believe everyone knows what scene I’m talking about. Quill, Quill, Quill you fucking moron. There was 100% absolutely no good reason for him to just punch Thanos and disrupt the process of taking out the Gauntlet. None whatsoever.

Some tried to argue for him and said “Well, you wouldn’t know until you were in his position” and basically I said that empathizing didn’t matter one bit when he threatens literally half the universe with his stupidity. If someone hits a button that suddenly releases a nuke that blows up half a country, nobody would come to his defense and say “well, we didn’t know what he was going through.” That doesn’t matter. You know what’s at stake. You know what would happen if you fail. You know damn well just how dangerous Thanos is and yet you let stupidity cloud your judgment. The worst part is that all he had to was wait. Spider-Man was maybe a few seconds and one good tug away from getting that Gauntlet off and once that was done, you may punch away. Hell, I’ll punch Thanos with you but not yet.

Some may even say that this action was actually in line with Quill’s character and I agree. It’s in line with Quill’s old character. He was reckless, he was roguish, he looked out only for himself, and he cared more about what he would get out of a situation. And in typical Han Solo fashion, in 3 movies, he matured before our very eyes. He was still reckless but he understood that sacrifices needed to be made even if he has to lose something. He cared about people but knew what needed to be done for the much greater number. Remember when he accepted killing Gamora? That was a huge moment for him. It would have absolutely been cathartic to see him just watch Thanos as his Gauntlet is taken away and then just punch him in the name of the woman they both loved and then finally letting go of Gamora for good. But that triumphant character moment was stolen from Quill and his character was absolutely squandered in mere seconds. In one scene, they destroyed all of Quill’s development and put him back into his primal underdeveloped state.

It’s important to keep in mind that even Drax, the person who’s not knowledgeable of social norms, the person who doesn’t understand the concept of a joke, the person who lost more to Thanos than Quill ever did, was smart enough to understand the importance of maintaining the plan.

By the way, I understand that they needed this to continue the conflict but you can’t convince me that they couldn’t find a different way for Thanos to maintain the Gauntlet. He could’ve simply overpowered them to the point that they couldn’t even get a chance to get the Gauntlet or have him break the trance by himself through sheer willpower. You can even have Spider-Man, the youngest and most inexperienced member of the group, make a fatal mistake. If we had the Time Stone, we’d see 14 million possible drafts of that script wherein Thanos keeps the Gauntlet without making anyone look unbelievably stupid.

Sub Point for 2

What’s even more problematic was that I just never bought Quill and Gamora’s romance. It always felt like Gamora was manipulating him. It’s not the kind of romance you root for and this has been an underlying weakness in Marvel films: the romance. Other than the relationships of Tony Stark/Pepper Potts and Steve Rogers/Peggy Carter, no other romance was believable or just plain good enough to root for. Thor and Jane? Yeah right. Steve and Sharon? No thank you. Hulk and Black Widow? get the fuck outta here. I admire Marvel’s attempts but they rarely stick the landing.

Overall

I’d say that this film mostly lives up to the hype. If you’re a fan who, like me, has followed this large franchise since the beginning then I believe you’ll get your money’s worth. It’s weird that I’m recommending a party that I’ve been late to by almost a year but it doesn’t change the fact that I thoroughly enjoyed this movie and will say that it is an absolute must-watch. If you’re looking for the climactic penultimate chapter of the “Avengers vs Thanos” arc, you most certainly won’t find a film that better captures the epic feeling that comes with a decade’s worth of build-up.

[webcricket]

Catch a Falling Star

Characters: CastielXReader

Word Count: 1954 (Part 6)

A/N: Part 6 of a Soulmate AU mini-series. Consider this a warning for sticky fluff with a smutty cherry on top. This isn’t explicit smut by any means – really more of a super suggestive romantic interlude. Non-adult readers, please note you can skip this part without losing track of the plot. Angst anticipators…enjoy your sweet seraphim sugar high [while it lasts]. P.S. True story – I fell more in love with Castiel while writing this chapter.

Summary: What if angels didn’t end up just anywhere when they are banished by sigils…what if sometimes they end up exactly where they need to be? Turns out you are Castiel’s grounding stone, and it’s more complicated than either of you realizes. In the hushed calm before the gathering storm, the spark between you and Castiel burns bright.

Completed series Masterlist:

webcricket.tumblr.com/post/165166387163/catch-a-falling-star-masterlist

Castiel inspected the rounded granite stones arranged in a near perfect circle rimming a shallow depression in the earth lined with soot-streaked flat grey pieces of rock. You asked him earlier in the evening if he knew how to build a fire. He answered affirmatively and without a moment’s hesitation. After all, he’d been there when humankind first discovered and tamed fire – it was as simple a concept as any to grasp.

You were disappointed to learn that Neanderthals were not instantly awestruck and captivated by the usefulness of the miraculous leaping hot orange flames and ethereal smoke as you’d always imagined. Rather, Cas informed you they fled, generally en masse, screaming of mind-boggling world-ending horror. It wasn’t until much later they learned to co-exist with a smoldering blaze in what amounted to a functional state of contained terror. To this day, human descendants without a healthy fear of fire and its ability to hungrily consume everything in its path without discrimination exist few and far between – a lingering testament to the powerful influence of first impressions.

The angel pensively walked the perimeter of the pit, realizing he might have overstated his qualifications as, although he understood how to create a fire in theory, he’d never actually had necessity or occasion to build one. He’d observed Sam and Dean construct several impressive conflagrations over the years. However, something on the scale of a hunter’s funeral pyre seemed excessive considering you intended to roast mass-produced puffed pillows of sugar, not incinerate a corpse.

Cushioned plaid wool blanket tucked beneath one arm, bag of marshmallows, bars of chocolate, and packet of graham crackers balanced precariously against your chest, you emerged at the end of the winding path down from the cottage to greet the flummoxed angel and the empty fire pit with a cheerful smile. You found his innate ability to overthink the most routine tasks, often to the point of cataplectic inaction, one of his most endearing qualities.

Just this morning, he spent almost an hour shucking the half dozen ears of corn you selected at the farmer’s market. Amusement over the adorable fixed state of intense concentration his features assumed when assigned the job hindered you from saying anything to deter the deliberateness with which he embarked on the undertaking. Fastidiously peeling the sinewy leaves back individually and painstakingly plucking the inner stringy fibers from between each neat row of kernels, he proudly presented you with the finished product – the most pristinely cleaned ears of corn you’d ever had the honor to plunk into boiling water and then drown in salt and butter before eating.

After his afternoon definitely-not-a-nap and Dean’s phone call, he helped you plant a new bed of flowers inspired by your unusual first encounter – white moonflowers, which only opened at night, fronted by sun-fire coreopsis, a deep red-orange centered yellow flower akin to a brightly burning falling star, and ringed all around with the vivid blue periwinkle that reminded you so much of his eyes. The process of removing the fragile plants from the safety of the greenhouse and wrenching them from their cozy pots by tearing the finely haired roots cementing them to the place they called home since bursting forth from seed greatly dismayed the angel. You assured him the shock of the great outdoors and broken roots were temporary setbacks – that in their new home, freed of the constraints of the tiny pots, the tender flowers would grow stronger and more beautiful than before. This sentiment seemed to quell his reservations and brought a reflective smile to his lips.

Standing opposite the angel now, assessing his total lack of fire making progress and repentant air, you assumed this was another one of those times his overly methodical thought process got the better of him.

He began to confess his miscalculation, “I didn’t…”

“Know where to find the wood?” you interjected, thwarting his attempt at self-blaming awkwardness. Tossing your cargo aside, you rounded the pit to run your hands soothingly down the length of his limply swaying arms, fingers dropping to take up his hands with an encouraging squeeze. “I forgot to mention it’s behind the shed.”

A reassured smile brightened his troubled aspect as you rolled to your tip-toes to kiss his prickly cheek. It hadn’t occurred to him that, of course, you had a wood pile at the ready for such occasions. The notion of preparation was a luxury not often afforded to the angel in his past experience, and certainly not with his usual company of the characteristically fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants Winchesters whose appreciation of preparedness didn’t typically extend beyond the Impala’s weapon-stocked trunk, scrappy boy scout instincts and charm, and a running streak of dumb luck.

“I need to grab the roasting sticks from the shed too. I’ll show you.” Rocking to your heels, you tugged his hand, plunging intrepidly into the darkening dusk.

Gratefully following your lead, he twined his fingers through yours. The thought flitted through his mind, for what must be approaching the hundredth time that day in his estimation – he’d given up on counting – that the ordinary life was a lot harder and more intricately nuanced than people generally led you to believe. And also, that the generous and forbearing quality of your patient nature indubitably exceeded his own.

Crisis of fire successfully averted with a lively crackling blaze, you and Cas nestled side by side on the blanket, skin warmly aglow in the radiant flicker of flame. The moonless night encroached about the edge of the fire’s illuminating reach so blackly it seemed you and the angel were all that existed in the whole of the creation.

You hovered a marshmallow on the end of a long wooden skewer several inches over the lambent pale orange embers, rotating it every few seconds to brown and crisp the outside uniformly.

Castiel watched your every movement in rapt anticipation of mimicking it when it was his turn to try.

The marshmallow faintly began to smoke. “There!” you pronounced, removing the expertly toasted marshmallow from the pit.

Cas obediently held up half a graham cracker layered with a square of chocolate on cue as you’d previously instructed.

You gingerly pushed the blistering hot caramelized crisped shell of sugar onto the proffered base. Grabbing the whole sugary conglomeration between your thumb and forefinger, you smashed the other half of the cracker on top and hummed approvingly as white eddies of liquid marshmallow oozed from the sides. “That…,” you mumbled through an orgasmic mouthful, “is how…,” swallowing thickly with a delighted moan, “you make…,” taking another gooey bite punctuated by an exultant sigh, eyelids fluttering shut in saccharine satisfaction, “the perfect…,” licking your sticky fingers one-by-one, “s’more.”

Cas wordlessly stared at you, eyes widening intense blue scintillating jewels in the dancing firelight. Google hadn’t mentioned anything about the sinful noises made while eating or look of pure ecstasy to expect after consuming a s’more. Perhaps he hadn’t delved deep enough into his research on the matter. Such are the pitfalls of clicking the first link offered up on an internet search.

Passing him the bag of marshmallows, you rosily blushed under his astonished regard. “Your turn,” you intoned coquettishly.

Undeterred by the sensuality of your demonstration, he threaded a marshmallow on the end of the skewer, confidently thrusting it into the fire. The fluffy confection instantly engulfed into a blazing blue charred ball before you could adjust the proximity of his skewer to the white hot cinders. A brooding frown crept across his features to furrow his brow as he grabbed the still smoldering lump. The black shell cracked and exploded into a cascade of molten white goo between his fingertips. He glowered at his hand, countenance reflecting an amalgam of defeat and exasperation for lack of anywhere obvious to dispose of the tacky burnt sugary mess.

You giggled, grasping his wrist, unhesitatingly guiding his fingers to your mouth to lick a dripping hunk of the melted marshmallow off his thumb.

He met your pleased gaze, the shimmering sapphire apertures of his irises eclipsed by the lustful darkness of dilating pupils.

Emboldened by the effect of your initially innocent act, you wrapped your lips around his forefinger, tongue swirling as you slowly sucked the stickiness from the digit, a suggestively salacious groan vibrating in your throat all the while.

He sat frozen, save for a single reflexive twitch of his upper lip.

Dragging your lower lip through your teeth, you tilted your head, guiding his fingers to the hollow of your neck to smear the remaining marshmallow across your exposed skin. Releasing his hand, mouth relaxing into a sensual pout, you arched an enticing brow and waited expectantly.

His focus vacillated between your sultry stare, pink bowed lips, and the inviting glaze of sugar upon your neck as if deciding which was the more tempting indulgence. Adams apple bobbing in a decisively thick gulp, he leaned forward, rough flat tongue malleably grazing the curve of your neck.

The dizzying rush of corporal heat incited by the brisk uptick in the beating of your heart in response to the ministrations of his talented tongue made your head and hide pleasantly buzz – there was none of the uncertain angelic hesitancy you’d anticipated weighing against his zeal. Closing your eyes, a soft moan escaping your pursed lips, you snaked your arms around his shoulders to steady yourself, fingertips scraping lightly at his sensitive nape to tangle in his hair.

Savoring the sweet taste of sugar dissolving on the salty sweat sheening your pulse point, he growled reverently into your heated flesh. The unfathomably deep rumble spurred a delightful quiver to course through your body and curl your toes. Gliding a supportive arm behind your back, he shifted his weight over you to lay you gently beneath him on the sprawling blanket. Breaking from your neck, he paused to smooth the hair from your flushed face and search your features for any sign of reluctance. Finding none in the affectionate curve of your mouth and ardent glinting of your eyes, he captured your lips in tender kiss.

Making love under the glittering canopy of stars, bare flesh glistening as you merged in an unhurried and passionate interlocking of lips, limbs, and bodies in the dimming glow of the firelight, you discovered it was not only your hearts which were made to complement one another – your bodies fit together as well in a perfect puzzle of pleasure. The tuck of your waist, the convex small of your back, and the ample arc of your hips were ideal anchors for his fervently grasping hands. So too did the supple swell of your breast and delicate curve of your neck seamlessly match the camber of his broad palms. Your heels dug lithely into the notched muscular dimples of his hips with the same natural ease with which your trembling fingers fluidly found ready purchase in the strapping sculpt of his shoulders.

For you and Castiel, there was no abrupt ecstatic tumble over the edge of unrestrained release. No desperately needful coming undone in a climax of carnal hedonism. For you and Castiel, breathlessly bound in a lover’s embrace, complete beings for the first time since your individual inceptions, there was a cosmic convergence of universe shuddering bliss which sent a shockwave surging through you both and into the still of night.

At precisely 12:03AM EST on August 11, 2017, United States Geological Survey monitors recorded a mild surface earthquake with a designation of 3.2 on the Richter scale centered 15.7 miles south of Seneca Falls, NY. Several aftershocks are also noted in the official record. The event was wrongly attributed to be routine settling of shale deposits located just below the Earth’s crust.

Part 7:

webcricket.tumblr.com/post/164327456355/catch-a-falling-star

[chezzkaa]

Cinders - Chapter 22/36

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DON’T FORGET TO VOTE FOR THE HALLOWEEN CINDERS SPECIAL!

SUMMARY: Taking shelter and removing the bullet lodged in your shoulder, Jeremy tries to hash out his emotions and resolve his feelings for you. 

WC: 2330

The adrenaline pumping through your veins pounds in your ears, blocking out the fading of sirens as you lower yourself heavily to the ground. With a pained groan you lie next to Jeremy and stretch out, your muscles complaining through the ache setting into your bones while your body finally begins to relax, fingers yanking your bandana from your mouth and to your neck. The concrete stings your back as your chest continues to heave, a cold sweat dewing across your skin. You can’t turn your head to Jeremy, rather staring up at the roof of the structure while the heat from the cops dissipates into the sound of Los Santos’ bustling streets.

“Hey,” you manage, throat dry and voice scratching through your airways, “you any good with your hands?” You had intended the question literally, but Jeremy splutters at your words, his body growing warm beside your own as he blushes a deep pink. “I don’t think now’s the time, Y/N,” he stammers, his face panicked as you force yourself to turn to him. Reaching out you lace your fingers through his, bouncing your hands and trying desperately to work through the pain that was becoming more and more apparent as the rush of battle wore off. “Jeremy,” you try for a smile and focus on the feeling of your small hand firmly within his, “I have a bullet in my shoulder.”

“Oh fuck!” he exclaims, the blush adorning his cheeks instantly draining as he rips up into sitting, causing you to flinch in pain as his body bumps your own. “Why didn’t you say something?” “I am literally saying something,” you groan, face scrunching up while you curl reflexively into your damaged shoulder, now aware of the small pool of blood puddling beneath, “like, I’m telling you right now.” You can see Jeremy grow frantic, unsure of what to do with his hands, his lips pressing into a thin line and eyebrows knitting together. “Med kit,” you offer helpfully before returning your gaze to the roof above you, focusing on your breathing while Jeremy removes the portable medical kit strapped to his leg.

Shuffling, you lift your shoulders away from the ground with great difficulty, peeling your shirt away to reveal a messy wound that weeps steadily now that the fabric no longer provides a barrier. “Okay,” he says, trying to calm himself down, “I’m just gonna have a look and – oh god you’re naked.” “I’m not naked,” you inform him, gritting your teeth and breathing heavily while he tries to avoid looking at your bra by fiddling with the kit’s contents. “I mean, that’s entirely debatable.” “You can’t debate if someone’s naked or not.” “You definitely can.” “No, Jeremy,” you can hear yourself growing frustrated at his comedic attempts to relieve his own tension, but you can’t stop the irritation from seeping into your voice. Breathing is becoming more difficult, the pressure within your muscle now searing agonisingly as your chest tightens, his words filling you with anxiety.

He doesn’t appear to be aware of your vulnerability, instead powering on with his own insecurities as a driving force. You want so much to grip him by the shoulders and shake him, to abandon him here in this car park and find a small space and crawl into it, but his fear has you paralysed, his lack of confidence drawing panic out of your chest. “I’ve never done this before,” he tells you, his face pale and lips cracking while you watch him struggle to look at your injury, “but it’s can’t be that hard.” “Do you need me to talk you through it?” you demand, tone harsher than you would have liked based upon the flinch that shakes through him, “You don’t have to be so condescending.”

“Jesus Christ, Jeremy,” you growl, nausea now stretching from the tightness in your chest and up your constricting windpipe, taint the tops of your ears with an uneasy cold. “I am on the brink of a fucking panic attack, I have just been shot and I’m on the floor of a filthy parking lot with a man who doesn’t know how to take the bullet out. So don’t you dare let your god damn pride get in the way.” You can feel him hesitate beside you but you refuse to look at him, instead beginning to count backwards from 12, breathing in and out with each number that passes through your head. “You get panic attacks?” his voice is dubious as he tries to steady his hands while shifting through the kit to locate the items he assumes he needs. You don’t respond to his query, your eyes squeezing shut to better concentrate on the numbers.

“Talk me through it,” he finally says and you look at him, taking in the softness of his face and panic he is trying to bury in his eyes. Chewing on your lip you give him a short nod, turning away and resting your cheek against the cool surface beneath you; breathing deeply. “You need to tie off my arm,” you instruct, taking his silence as confusion, “use your belt and fasten it tightly under my armpit.” You hear him remove his belt without question and gently raise your torso, wrapping it around you so that the leather digs into your neck and squeezes uncomfortably, the blood flow slowing.

“Next,” you rasp, tears stinging your eyes while you battle with anxiety clinging to your ribs and sitting on your lungs, “you’re gonna need to apply pressure.” You weakly point towards the general direction of the t shirt you’d shed, cringing as Jeremy presses it into you. “Sorry,” he whimpers, but you shake your head numbly; “as hard as you can.” You cry out as he pushes harder, apologies tumbling from his lips to join your blood on the floor. “Once it’s stopped bleeding completely, you’re going to need to clean the area with Chlorhexidine.” “What colour is it?” “Pink,” you gasp as he releases pressure momentarily to look around before correcting his mistake with a desperate collection of ‘sorry’.

“So, erm... this might be a bad time, but...” you flash your eyes up to his sheepish and pale face, astonished, “don’t tell me we’re going to have a deep and meaningful conversation while you’re digging around in my shoulder.” “Y/N,” his eyes are determined, the stubbornness you’d admired at one point now turning on you, “that is exactly what we’re going to do.” “Does this situation really scream ‘let’s talk about our feelings’ to you?” “Well, we’re already having a shitty time,” he snaps back, extremely uncomfortable, “why not get it all out in the open now?” “I don’t know, maybe because I’m bleeding the fuck out? That’s a pretty good reason, Jeremy.”

You feel his weight shift above you as he checks your shoulder, the steady stream of blood finally coming to a stop. Satisfied he places your bloody shirt on your stomach to save it from the filthy floor, the warmth sticking to the fine hairs dusting your skin. “You aren’t bleeding out anymore,” he tells you meekly, beginning to pour the pink liquid onto a cotton pad, the smell burning your nose. “I don’t want to do this now,” you groan, flinching as he brings the pad to hover above your wound, skin crawling away from the pain you know is about to sear through you. “Then just listen, it’ll be a good distraction.” “I don’t think it’s going to help,” your words cut off with a sharp breath dragging through you clenched teeth as he presses the solution to your skin, quickly wiping away the blood and dirt as best as he can.

“Ever since I’ve known him, Ryan has been terrifying,” Jeremy’s words shock you slightly out of the pain, your mind trying to refocus as you struggle to comprehend the direction of his story, “I couldn’t imagine him ever being the big lovable guy that the rest of the crew told me he once was.” You are vaguely aware of him disposing of the soiled cotton pad, the tightness in your chest becoming steady and consistent while you cling to his words. “Ryan’s never been terrifying,” you try to tell him, but the words catch in your throat and stammer from your lips through a gasp, a light breeze stinging your wound.

Jeremy is shaking his head at your comments, moving to collect the items you instruct before gingerly inspecting a pair of long medical grade tweezers with an unpleasant twist of his lips. “He wasn’t Ryan when I knew him,” he murmurs, “not until recently.” He brings the tweezers closer to your skin, grimacing as you yelp while he parts the flesh of your shoulder, widening the hole so that he can start the extraction. “He was always so isolated, just lost I guess. That might be the best way to describe it. Everyone would always get sad when he’d surface and join the crew, but he just sorta... went through the motions of being alive.”

With a deep inhale you imprison the breath behind your clenched teeth, eyes snapping shut and body tensing as Jeremy tries to control his shaking, cautiously lowering the metal into your body. You can feel every twitch as he rummages around in search of the bullet, your body burning with pain with each touch of the prongs against your sensitive tender skin. You try to breathe through the agony, struggling to control your lungs while you cling to Jeremy’s rushed speech while he tries desperately to calm himself. “I mean, even though he found me on the streets and brought me back to the crew, I still avoided him as much as I could,” his words are quick, slipping past your attention with enough speed to leave you slightly winded and confused, “I couldn’t be in the same room as him, especially not on my own. He just carried this heaviness with him.”

And then the tweezers connect with the bullet fragment inside of your shoulder, clinking against the bone it had grazed as you scream, jabbing your free fist into your teeth to try and stifle the noise. With more expertise than you had expected, Jeremy latches onto the piece and removes it quickly, reapplying pressure to stop the small amount of bleeding that had occurred in the process. Panting and groaning you try and ignore the cold sweat that is beading across your forehead, your stomach churning. “Why are you telling me this now?” you demand in a shaky voice, head spinning and starting to fog; “because I need you to know why I can’t let him fall back into being empty again.”

You search his face, taking in the deep sadness circling his eyes that sparkle in determination and admiration. “We were assigned to work together on a mission, just some interrogation stuff. He seems worse than usual that day, but he kept doing his job.” Jeremy removes your bloody shirt from the wound, peering at it with a satisfied smile before cleaning the area again. You watch him, the constriction of anxiety having disappeared to mingle with his words, leaving you confused and aching. “That night I found him awake and sat in the middle of the living room, and I just sat with him.” His eyes melt into you, the image of Ryan sitting cross legged on the wooden floor stinging more than your muscles, his shoulders hunched in defeat and face smooth and saddened. “I met Ryan the next day, or at least some version of him. I think he appreciated the company. We did some pre heist set ups and stopped for ice cream.”

“That man thinks ice cream fixes everything,” you joke weakly as Jeremy collects the material needed to stitch up the wound, cracking a gentle smile, “hell yeah he does, we went out for ice cream every week after that.” You can’t help the smile that forms across your lips, realising that the purple haired man getting ice cream you had seen from your apartment window was in fact Jeremy handing a cone over to Ryan. “I mean, he wasn’t opening up, but he would tell me stories of his life before the crew and his kick ass partner; which made him a little less scary.”

“He talked about me?” the concept seemed wrong as soon as it exited your lips, but Jeremy nods in affirmation, moving to pierce your skin and begin stitching in between your flinches. “He never mentioned you by name, otherwise I’d have known you were his partner immediately,” he looks up at you sheepishly for a moment before going back to work, “but the things he would talk about made me realise that I had never truly met him. I didn’t know the man that finger gunned people, or that would wake up early and make breakfast. Not until you came around.” You feel him pull the final loop through your tattered skin and tie it off, looking down proudly at his work.

He reaches for some dressings, beginning to seal off the site and protect it as best as he could before helping you remove the belt, blood rushing painfully back into your limbs. “I’ve never seen him so happy before, it’s like the man I knew doesn’t exist anymore, and I couldn’t be happier about it,” he gives you a pointed look, letting you know that he was finally approaching the real reason for his story. “Ryan deserves happiness, he has suffered so much and over the time I’ve known him we’ve grown to be like brothers. You are so important to me, but I love Ryan more than anything and will protect him with my damn life. I am not going to take away the one thing that’s brought him back to life.” He pulls your hand into his own, his face pained and painted with sorrow, “Ryan needs you more than me.”

[hannah-deserved-better]

Scandalous Small Town Secrets Ch.1

Summary: Hannah lives in a small little town full of scandals, gossip, judgemental, pressure, and deep-seated racial divides between angels, demons, humans, and the other creatures that reside in town and in the surrounding forest. After her sister's suicide, Hannah is thrust into the middle of the town's turmoil as she struggles to break free of her families pressures on her and find true love for the first time.

Pairings: Castiel/Hannah, Dean/Jo, Sam/Eileen, Gabriel/Balthazar, Anna/Charlie, Crowley/Meg, past Dean/Tessa, Past Castiel/Meg, past Castiel/genderswap Lucifer

Warnings: Suicide, drug use, depression, violence, crime, verbal abuse. Lots of angst! Also, this story deals with social issues including poverty, homelessness, and racial tensions.

"Tessa!" Naomi's commanding voice boomed in Hannah's head as she opened the front door and entered her home after a long day at school. She winced as her older sister shouted again, her voice echoing from the kitchen. Hannah should be used to it by now, but she hated the loud noise as it pounded through her skull.

As she set her book bag on the base of the staircase, she followed the sounds of pots and pans clattering around and the unpleasant aroma of over-salted meat and came into the kitchen where she found Naomi buzzing about. A sink full of dishes greeted her as she moved into the large spacious kitchen.

"Hannah," Naomi greeted indifferently. "Go get your sister, then come set the table." Hannah nodded but lingered in the doorway for a moment.

"Is Dad going to be home tonight?" she wanted to know, her face expressionless as she watched her sister go about preparing dinner. She had mixed feelings about her father being home that night- most of them negative. After all, she figured she and Tessa were in for a round of criticism about how their lives were going to amount to nothing. Hannah had only just started college and her younger sister Tessa was 17. Yet somehow they were both wasting their lives being teenagers.

Of course, it didn't help that Tessa was dating a man who was four years older than her. Hannah had warned her about it because she knew how bad it was going to be for her when their father found out. And of course, it all came to a head a week ago when Naomi reported that she'd seen Tessa kissing Dean near the campus.

Hannah turned and drifted out of the kitchen and towards the stairs, grabbing her book bag on her way up. She gazed out over the living area and sleek white architecture of her home as she ascended the stairs. White. That was probably the best way to describe her home. White and large. The walls were bare, no pictures denoting family adorned any part of it. A chandelier hung from the ceiling over the foyer leading towards the entrance.

They had lived here for a few years now, and this was easily one of the more luxurious homes in the small town. On a quiet, gated court surrounded by other expensive homes. Of course, this was an angel only neighborhood so one should expect it to be beautiful and luxurious. But Hannah knew her father preferred to keep the home immaculate and clean; he hired human maids and cleaners to keep it that way and erase any trace of evidence that a family lived here. Especially one as broken as the Vermuellen family.

Hannah stepped off the top stair and immediately began to feel uncertain. It was as if the air had suddenly changed. It was oddly quiet. She expected the sounds of her sister's obnoxious rave music to be pounded through her ears, but there was nothing. She inched down the hall, pausing only to toss her bag into her room before proceeding towards Tessa's door, which was cracked slightly ajar.

Knocking softly, Hannah couldn't shake the feeling of dread that seemed to descend upon her as she waited for Tessa's response. None. She knocked again. "Tessa?" she called softly before pushing the door opened.

The sight before her wasn't immediately registered. It was as if Hannah had to reset herself to process it. Tessa's book bag lay on the floor, its contents splayed on the floor, while Tessa herself lay atop her neatly made bed, silent and still. As Hannah neared the bed, she stopped short, her breath catching in her throat. Tessa's eyes were wide open, but they bore no life, no movement. Her hand dangled off the side of the bed, a bottle of pills laying on the floor beneath it.

"TESSA!" Hannah cried out as she rushed to her sister's side, shaking her desperately. "Wake up!" Her sister's body was cold, her eyes staring at the ceiling. Somehow she knew in her heart there was no use, but she tried anyway.

Naomi rushed into the room, no doubt startled by Hannah's cry. Seeing the scene, she gasped and quickly picked up a phone to call 911. Tears she didn't even remember shedding fell from Hannah's eyes as she fell back on her knees beside Tessa's bedside, staring at the still form, unwilling to believe the truth.

It didn't take long for the paramedics to arrive, but by then, Hannah had felt herself go numb. As they hauled Tessa out on a gurney, she caught sight of Tessa's opened diary and quickly grabbed it before Naomi, who frantically relayed instructions to the paramedics while simultaneously on the phone with their father, could see it.

Hannah didn't know what made her take the diary, or why she felt it was important to hide it from Naomi or her father, but she mindlessly stashed the black leather book in her own room before following the precession downstairs.

Later, Hannah found herself sitting outside on the front porch with Naomi while police searched their property. The flashing blue and red lights of police cars had attracted bystanders, and they all gathered across the street, trying to get a glimpse of anything. Hannah felt angry towards them. And at angels, because she knew they'd judge and spread rumors over what could have happened.

Angels were morally superior, self-entitled presence in this small town. They flaunted their wealth and power and were always eager to pass judgment on any of their ranks who didn't fit in. It was no secret that Tessa and Hannah both spent time in the human part of town and that they hung around humans and other races in school. Hannah could only imagine all the rumors that could be circulating already, and it made her sick.

"Did Tessa remove her grace?" Naomi murmured softly, bringing Hannah out of her thoughts. She glanced up at her sister as she crouched on the steps leading up to the front door.

"She would have had to if she wanted to do this," Hannah replied as if it should have been obvious. She thought about that. So Tessa had planned this. There weren't many ways to kill an angel who had grace, but without it, an angel was as vulnerable as any human.

At that moment, their father finally pulled up and rushed to his daughters, just as the sheriff approached. Hannah stiffened. She wasn't very fond of Michael, the town sheriff. An extremely powerful archangel, his ego, and pretentiousness were renown.

"We searched for her grace, we couldn't find it," Michael informed them. "Do any of you know why she may have done this?"

"It had to be that human boy," Naomi said with a disappointed sigh. "We warned her to stay away from him."

"Well I have heard of vampires in the seedier parts of town trading angel grace in some illicit black market," Michael told them. "They trick naive young angels into giving up their grace. I hope Tessa wasn't a victim of this."

"She always has been easily led astray," Hannah's father, Raphael admitted sadly. Hannah looked up at him in astonishment. "Naomi and I suspected that she was involved in some bad things, so I wouldn't be surprised."

"How can you blame her for this?" she demanded. "Tessa died father, don't you care?"

"Don't take that tone with me, Hannah," Raphael warned, fixing her with a firm glare. "My daughter just died, of course, I care about that. But I'm not going to overlook the fact that Tessa had some behavior problems. She was becoming rebellious, and I think it's because of all the humans she spent time with. Let that be a lesson to you, Hannah. You need to stick to your own kind."

Hannah couldn't take any more of this. Naomi and her father, their words echoed a common attitude she'd grown up around. Aristocratic and exclusive. Always quick to place blame on the misfits. She looked at Michael.

"Can I go back inside now?" she demanded. The archangel nodded.

"Yeah we don't see any evidence of foul play," he said. Hannah didn't bother to wait for her father or Naomi to say anything more, or to dismiss her, she just got up and hurried to her room, slamming the door behind her.

[singtotheskiies]

Tea

pairing: newt scamander x reader 

words: 1900+

warnings: blood, fluffity fluff fluff

summary: newt and reader meet in bustling New York City. They become close, and one day reader finds Newt injured and nurses him back to health. 

You navigated the busy streets of New York, making sure your wand was hidden, scarf wound tightly around your neck to ward off the tangy bite of the early December air. No snow had fallen yet, but the taste of the air called that soon, snow would gently fall from the skies. You moved to America when you were twelve, and had been living there nine years. That's one thing you missed about England, where you had spent your childhood---the snow would actually stick to the ground and the many church steeples that spired into the sky. Here in New York, the small flakes that do end up making it to the pavement and brick are immediately swallowed up by the tramp of boots. But there are good things about living in America---namely one certain person. Newt Scamander. You had met the magizoologist in New York a few months ago. He had come into the bakery/beverage shop you were currently employed at. He was the only person inside, except yourself. "Good morning, sir. How can I help you?" you inquired politely. The man whirled around, turning to face you. He had fluffy, reddish-brown hair that curled at the tips, astonishing blue-green eyes, and defined cheekbones. You blinked once, quickly, when you saw just how attractive he was. His eyes widened when he saw you. "Oh, um, good... Good morning, ma'am. I, uh, just wondered if I could have a cup of tea," he asked in a soft, unmistakably British accent. You smiled. "Of course. I'll have it ready in a minute. Please, take a seat and make yourself at home." He did what you suggested. As you waited for the tea to steep, you watched your guest across the room. He looked down at his coat pocket with a slight frown, speaking quietly to it. Not so quietly, however, that you couldn't hear what he was saying. "Pickett, stay down, will you?" You caught a small glimpse of a green, stick-like creature. If you weren't mistaken, it was a Bowtruckle. You remembered that from your Care of Magical Creatures days in Hogwarts. You had always loved that class; you adored the beasts and animals you studied. You took the small tray of tea over to the man. "Here's your order, Mister..." His head snapped up, cheeks tinting a light rose. "Scamander," he said. "Newton Scamander. But you can call me Newt." As he said this, a slight rustle began in his pocket once more, and the head of 'Pickett' peeped through. "Is that a Bowtruckle? He's adorable," you said. Newt looked at you, astonished. "H-how? You... You know what a Bowtruckle is?" he asked, unbelievingly. You smiled and tucked a stray hair from your messy braid behind your ear. You reached over the counter for your jacket, pulling out your wand. "Does this look like a No-Maj thing to you?" you asked him, grinning. He seemed to overcome his shock, managing a small smile. "No, not at all," he responded, a hint of a chuckle slipping into his velvety voice. And, by goodness, if it wasn't the handsomest chuckle you'd ever heard, you didn't know what was. "Your accent is most unique. It almost sounds British, but you're American." You smiled, taking a seat across from Newt, and told him your story of how you had moved from England and Hogwarts to America and Ilvermorny, which you had attended for the rest of your school years. You also related how you had always adored magical creatures. "Ilvermorny didn't have as good of a Care of Magical Creatures program as Hogwarts did," you said, "but I'm still proud to have been a Thunderbird." Newt's face lit up. "Frank! I have a Thunderbird named Frank!" He explained that he was a magizoologist and had a wonderful collection of what he called 'fantastic beasts'. "Want to come over sometime and see them?" He quickly scribbled down an address on a napkin and handed it to you. "Tomorrow?" he asked, hopefully. "Tomorrow," you agreed. His beasts had taken an immediate liking to you. He had insisted you come at least twice a week to just talk and also to help care for his animals, seeing as how you were a natural. One day, while helping him, you had Pickett on your shoulder, a Niffler you were petting in your lap, and a variety of other creatures surrounding you. You had looked up at him, smiling. Your cheeks rosy with excitement, hair slightly messy from a beast who had been snuffling at your hair, big grin illuminating your entire face, he realized that you were beautiful to him. You had seen his cheeks flush a reddish color, but thought it was probably just the heat. The room wasn't exactly the perfect climate due to the plethora of beasts inhabiting it. Over the weeks, you had fallen in love with the magizoologist and his innocent, sweet personality. It was impossible not to. Everything about him was simply perfect---the love and care with which he treated his animals, his beautifully soft-looking hair, his royal-blue coat. However, you had extreme doubts that he reciprocated your feelings. He treated you with respect and the two of you had grown to be very close friends, but you still thought that your feelings weren't returned. You were just you, anyhow, nothing special. You ran over these thoughts in your head for the millionth time as you reached Newt's front door. Sighing heavily, you raised your knuckles and rapped on the door. You waited for a minute with no response. Frowning, you drew your oversized scarf tighter around your neck and tried again. Still no answer. Becoming worried, you tried the door, and, to your surprise, it opened. You stepped inside, closing the door softly and shedding your coat and scarf. ​​​​​​ The house was still and silent. "Newt?" you called. "Newt?" No answer. You were nearly frantic by this time. There was absolutely no reason why he shouldn't be home. His Nifflers had just had a baby, and you knew that he was absolutely crazy about it; he had been talking about it nonstop. You knew Newt better than anyone else, and you knew he wouldn't just leave. Making up your mind, you entered the room where he kept his beasts, stopping stock-still at the sight. Newt lay facedown on the floor, surrounded by his whole menagerie. They immediately ran to you, trying to drag you over to him. You ran to him, tears welling in your eyes. "Newt!" you yelled, flipping him upwards gently so he could breathe. He didn't respond, his head lolling back. He was breathing and had a pulse, but you couldn't see what was wrong. You hesitantly stripped him of his sweater, leaving him in only his undershirt. You tried not to freak out at the sight of his muscled forearms and focused on scanning for a wound. There was nothing for a minute, and then you found it. There was a bloodstain on his side. It was small, but was growing steadily larger and darker by the minute. You gasped in horror. What could have done this? Looking around, you spotted a deadly sharp point on the door latch of a cage. Quickly, you closed the door to make sure nothing else could happen. You should move Newt to his room, but how? You looked at each of the creatures, thinking carefully. Your eyes alighted upon Zephyr, an unusually tame hippogriff. "Here, boy," you whispered softly. He knew what to do and kneeled smoothly. You managed to lift Newt and set him upon Zephyr's back, arms straining. You steered the hippogriff into Newt's room, inhaling the sweet smell of cactus, pine, and cinnamon that was Newt's. Zephyr slipped Newt onto the bed. "Go back, boy," you whispered to him, and he obediently trotted off. You took a deep breath, rolled up your sleeves, and got to work. Fifteen minutes later, you had the flow of blood staunched and were just waiting for him to awaken. After several minutes, his eyelids fluttered and he shifted, wincing when he felt the pain in his side. "(Y/N)," he whispered. "I'm right here," you whispered, hesitating for a moment before rubbing his arm soothingly. He smiled weakly. "What happened?" You told him, and he shook his head when he heard what had happened. "Now, stay right here," you told him. "I'm making you a little something." After a few minutes, you returned with a pot of tea and some soup, in which you had placed a small amount of a tonic that was supposed to speed up the healing process. You poured the tea into a small cup and picked up a bowl of soup. "Um... Open wide?" you asked awkwardly. You knew it was likely he couldn't sit up. Newt's cheeks stained red, but he did as you said. Blushing, you spooned the hot broth into his mouth. You were extremely embarrassed, but you were helping Newt get better, and that was all that mattered. Newt's face got progressively more crimson as the liquid got lesser and lesser. Finally, he had eaten (or, rather, been fed) his fill and said shyly, "Thank you, (Y/N). I feel better already. That was extremely kind of you." "Y-You're welcome, Newt. Is there anything else I can get you?" you inquired. "No, you've d-done enough alr-ready," he answered. "I'm rather tired now, I think I'll tr-try to sleep." You nodded and quietly gathered the materials onto the tray. You turned to leave, and Newt said, "Thank you again. It... It really m-means a lot t-to me. Really, it does." "You're very welcome, Newt. Just call if you need anything." He smiled gently and nodded. After a few hours, he woke up. You had pretty much been within earshot the whole time, and as soon as he called your name softly, you appeared in the doorway. "Hi, Newt. How are you feeling?" "I'm a l-lot better. I was wondering--if it wouldn't be too much trouble---if I could have some tea? If You don't mind." You replied that you didn't and proceeded to pour him a cup. Newt could now sit up, and he did, but he looked like he was having an internal battle. After a minute, he said, "I like t-tea. It's how we first met." He looked down and fluffed up his hair, a nervous habit you had become aware of. You smiled. "I agree." He shyly looked up and met your eyes, blushing. He was inches away from you. You wet your lips nervously with the tip of your tongue. And then, before you knew it, your lips connected and the world evaporated in a shower of pure euphoria. His mouth was marvelously warm and soft; it made you feel like everything was all right in the world. His hand came up to stroke your hair, and you responded by tangling your own fingers in his wonderfully fluffy hair. He sighed against your lips, and you smiled into the kiss. The only reason you pulled apart a minute later was for air. Newt Scamander was grinning like an idiot. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you like me better than your beasts," you quipped. "Sh-shush and kiss m-me again," Newt said, and you did. 

[mirajens]

close to you

paring: neji/tenten genre: romance warning: bit of gore?? idk  nothing gross found on ff.n and ao3

Tenten hates the blood that Neji sheds for her. (au)

Blood, on her.

Tenten never put a high price on her life and she thought scant of glorifying royals like her father did, like many people did. While idealistic, she was practical when it counted. Having a personal guard purely for the sake of being her human shield was just one of the abhorrent practices of court. She was not sure what she did to warrant the hatred of some radicals but she was sure that it was nothing personal. There would always be people to oppose the throne, angry serf and lords alike who extend the target on her father's back onto her own. It was just the two of them left now with her mother taken by illness and her brothers killed in war. Tenten supposed many were of the mind to eliminate her before she could claim her seat.

But it cost, of course it did. Today it was almost Neji; an arrow or seven that had rained on the battle-seasoned knight who'd been by her side since they were children. Her envoy had been ambushed on the way back from a tour of the western province and her guards barely made it out alive. Neji had taken most of the damage, as one would expect of the person jumping in front of a bull's eye.

That blood was on Tenten, nauseating in its amount and parable: how many more would bleed for her?

She watched Neji sit stony-faced in the midst of medics, guilt and self-loathing bubbling in her own gut. Once the healers left, Tenten was by his cot, contrite. "I wish you would leave your post, Neji. There is a life out there better than grabbing death for me."

Neji tested his pain level by rolling his shoulders. The wince on his face only passed for a few seconds. That was a dumb thing to do. "It's not grave, milady. My heart still beats, and all for you." There was a small smile on his lips. Immediately, he knew the ill-humor was at poor taste with his princess' expression. Before she could lash out, he spoke, "I swore an oath to protect you. I don't take that lightly. What I did today was my duty and privilege."

The quiet rage that toiled so rarely in Tenten was quick to make her erupt. She supposed her anger was misdirected at Neji. Neji, a pillar constantly in periphery since childhood, was only trying to do his job and a mile more. Tenten didn't understand the foolishness of staying by his post. Her definition of love didn't mean dying for one another; just the opposite.

Her small face scrunched up, bitter and sad. She could barely see through her glossy eyes but she tried to stare down the blurry figure on the cot. "Then you are a fool!" Words like these were uncommon to burst from her lips but her conscience was clouded and there was little space for rational thinking. She would say her piece while she had the fuel. "Will you let me live with the guilt of having your blood on me? Damn your oath, Neji, and damn your bloody martyr complex!"

These were the moments where Neji couldn't discern the line between his duty and his personal feelings. He'd stared death in the face today and came out alive; he'd be brave enough to grab her hand and press his cheek to the back of it, all smooth skin over the taut flesh of her fist. "It was an oath sworn not only to a high priest, but to myself as well." Seated, he was much shorter than his usual perspective of her. When he looked up to meet her eyes, his own contained storms. "You make a man foolish. I would die for you and feel no regret for it in the afterlife."

He watched her tears spill over now, fat tears that rolled down her cheek and into the high collar of her dress. He ached when she cried. He'd seen her do so too many times than he'd like.

When Neji reached out to wipe her tears, Tenten caught his hand and pressed a kiss to it, never breaking her gaze from the pearl white of his eyes. "Don't say that to me and expect my pulse to gallop. A foolish man doesn't deserve my affections."

His brow cocked up, a subtle show of the grand astonishment he felt. "Do I have your affections, then?" He couldn't help the sloppy grin that accompanied his question.

"Do not smile at such a time, Neji Hyuuga." Unconsciously, Tenten rubbed a palm against the cloth of her skirts as if the phantom blood on it from earlier still itched, burned. "I apologize for yelling but I am not sorry for what I said. I mean it. I know this is your job but I will never approve of it or stop being scared every moment." Tenten joined him on the cot, with no space between their hips, shoulders and arms. "My love, do you think you're the only one who has someone to lose? Do you think what you feel when you take blade or arrowhead for me, I don't feel as well?"

"You shouldn't best your affections on a knight, princess. We are of a threatened species." Even as he smiled, Neji tarried over her sentiments. They were at a stalemate, but he knew that she knew her life would always weigh more than his. He forewent telling her what they both understood. He'd let her worry and grieve him if it meant she stayed alive. "I can't promise that I won't take those blades or arrowheads for you. But I will try to be less harebrained when you're in danger."

Tenten knew a compromise when she heard it. "I do hate to settle, but that's probably as much as I can ask of you."

Neji kissed the side of her head, ending on a weary exhale. He didn't even dare to wish things were different. When the time came for him to lay his life for her, he would do so in a heartbeat. Until then, he would enjoy these warm moments with her, basking in affection that he knew he had no right to but would take anyway.

[twbbpcs]

Power, Pleasure & Pain

*SEXUAL SCENE AHEAD* ----- "It's okay. I'm not afraid of you." "You should be. I'm not a good person." ___________________________ ZAYN POV - Justin held the door for me and my shoes clicked on the slick marble of the lobby. "So...you own all of this?" I asked and looked up at the high ceilings that had chandeliers hanging from them. The lights bounced off of the crystal and created odd shadows on the cream walls. "One of my many buildings," He gloated like he had been all night but that was Justin. Nothing about him was done halfway and that included the way he spoke about himself. I found out that if he wasn't trying to impress me, he was actually quite charming. He would always have some sort of arrogance about him but as the night had went on, it went from narcissism to more confidence. It sounded to me like Justin just had a very high view of himself and that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Throughout the night, I had become more and more drawn to this man as his eyes pulled me in. There was no fighting him and I was surprised that I had lasted this long. All this week, he had taken me out to dinner, brought me lunch at school and even let me read to him as we sat in the grass. That was the day that I cracked the shell of fake Justin Bieber. I was able to see the man behind all of the money and cars and apartments. He let me read to him while he closed his eyes and just listened. I peeked at him over the brim of my book. It was the first time that I had seen Justin where he looked relaxed. He wasn't trying to impress me or make some grand gesture to show me how caring he was. The funny thing about all of this was that I knew he was just playing until he got me into bed but I would let him. There was no way to stop him from taking me over. That day where he first brought me lunch, I could see the true Justin and I liked what I saw. He was calm, tranquil, his face looked ten years younger and I think I detected a hint of a true smile on more than one occasion. Usually, his face was so covered in figurative blood that it caused a mask, hiding everything but he shed it for me. I knew it was just a ploy but he went out of his way to show me a glimpse of a man I didn't think anyone had ever seen. That was the day I fell for Justin. I didn't know what it was at first and I was trying to figure it out all through dinner tonight but as we sat there, I realized that I was infatuated by this man. My connection to him wasn't just physical and emotionally, my feelings were showing their true colors. I didn't know if it was love but I was certainly more smitten with him than I wanted to admit. Did people still even use the word smitten? I hated to think that tonight was going to be the last night that I would see Justin but that was the way it had to be Justin wasn't a man who fell in love and he definitely don't do relationships, so where did that leave me? I was a guy who had fallen for a man who was basically set in stone. He wasn't going to change for me and there was no use trying. I had to put on a game face throughout dinner because I knew tonight was going to be the last time I could see him before he broke me. What would happen if I let him lead me on and then he just dropped me? That would leave me devastated and I wasn't in any position to feel this way over a guy I just met three weeks ago. I had to pull myself together and fuck him before I slipped out in the night like a bandit. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I realized that I was doing to him like he did to countless other people he had sex with but I couldn't get attached to him any further. Justin would hurt me if I didn't end whatever we had right now. I guess you could call it casual dating but even that was a stretch for him. I knew what was going to happen. I already had the emotions going through me so it was obvious that I liked him more than a friend. Tonight, we would have sex and then come tomorrow, Justin would act like he didn't even know me. If I let that happen, I would end up turning into every whiny, emotional guy out there. I would cry over him, I would ask myself 'why?' over him, I would want to know if it was something I did and I couldn't let that happen. I had shed my tears for boys in high school. I was over that so tonight, I was going to be the one breaking hearts...if Justin had one. I know it only took one week and I said I would hold off longer but I couldn't help it. I wouldn't let him pull me in any further and if I stayed in this fucked up relationship for one more day, I would be lost to the world. I wouldn't allow it so I had to end this tonight, after one send off. Just one fuck. "So tell me, Mr. Real Estate Agent, what does a place like this go for?" I asked him as we walked slowly around the lobby. I knew he liked to talk about himself and truthfully, I like hearing about him. "A lot. I won't even tell you the true number because it might blow you mind." He ran his hand through his hair and licked his luscious lips. The sexual attraction was about to make me combust but I had to make sure that I didn't appear to be too eager so I kept my cool just like I had been all night even thought I really wanted to scream. Just fuck me here! "Try me. I'm not impressed by your money Justin." I snickered. "Yeah right, anybody would be impressed with the fortune I've amassed." He held up his hands. "So, how much are we talking?" "Around a billion." He shrugged like it was nothing and I actually believed him. "Around a billion?" I said slowly, "Well, that's a good chunk of change." "And if you look at my taxes, they'll say I make a modest million." I heard him say under his breath like he didn't want me to hear but kind of did. I nodded without saying anything. He was a very secretive man who didn't ever really give up anything about his life. He had a way of skirting around answers so that he said a lot but didn't reveal much. It was like he was trying to hide and I added that to the long list of things that drove me crazy about him. He was an enigma that I had to solve but unfortunately, I would never have the chance. "How long have you had this particular piece of property?" I ran my hand along the cool marble of a table that was situated in the middle of a thick carpet. We hadn't even left the lobby yet and I was already highly intimidated by his money. "This one was built last year so it's new. Drew and Jason live upstairs." He pointed above him. "Keep the family close." I nodded. I saw a lot of men coming in with suits after a long day of work and they all seemed very professional. There were young yuppies who were probably living off of Daddy's money and slick women in business suits who were bitches to their coworkers. Everyone looked so mature compared to me but then I reminded myself that I was only eighteen. That provided another reason why I had to end this. If I just left after tonight, I wouldn't' have to explain my lies. He didn't even have to know about my age since he would never see me again. "I have three more around the city and then other hotels and things across the country." "Really?" I didn't bother hiding my astonishment. "Yeah. I try to diversify my investments." He explained. "I should be taking notes. You obviously know how to make money." "All thanks to my father. He's the real genius." "I might need to meet this man you speak so highly of." I laughed but I guess Justin didn't really find that funny because his face kind of paled. He quickly recovered but I caught his slight fluster. I just stayed silent as we continued to walk in an endless circle of the lobby, trying to stay away from the elevators. I didn't want to go up just yet because I needed to spend as much time with him as I could and I think that Justin was actually nervous. I had to grin at that. "So, where to now?" I asked, when I thought an appropriate amount of minutes had passed. "We could...go to the gym and work out." He joked. "I don't think so. Today's my day off from the gym." "Well...we could go see a movie." He was beating around the bush on purpose, wanting me initiate things, which I saw was putting him out of his element. He was fidgeting with his pocket in a way that was almost obsessive. "I don't think anything good is out." I bit my lip, not really thinking but trying to drive him crazy. I had seen Justin watching me over the past couple of days and it seemed like my nervous habits were a turn on for him, which made no sense to me but whatever floats your boat I guess. He took in a breath through his teeth and then dragged his hand over his mouth, "We could go upstairs and have something to drink." He suggested, almost in a whisper. "That sounds good to me." I stopped walking and stood in front of him strongly. I didn't know what we would call ourselves but I was happy that we could obviously freely kiss. It wasn't a frequent thing but at least he didn't pull back when I tried so I took the opportunity. I stood on my tip toes and melded my lips to his softly at first and then more surely after he placed his hands on my hips. My fingers went into his hair that felt like silk and he had a strong taste of tobacco on his lips that normally repulsed me but on him, it was inviting. We kept the kiss slightly chaste with no tongue, just enjoying our mouths on each other. I think I heard him moan but that couldn't be right. He didn't seem like a moaner. He eventually rested his forehead on mine, "Would you like to come up?" "I said I would. Are you trying to keep me away?" "Yes. I'm trying to warn you." I think I heard a detection of sadness in his voice. "I think I'll be fine." I whispered to him and placed my kisses on his lips a couple more times before pulling back. "Are you sure? You don't have to do this..." I looked at Justin strangely because for some reason, he came across like he was actually trying to keep me away from him. It was like he was scared of something. "It's okay. I'm not afraid of you." I kissed him again. "You should be." He couldn't keep his lips off of my skin and placed them on my neck, "I'm not a good person." "I don't believe that. Everyone has some good in them." "Not me. I don't want to hurt you." The blood in my veins beat a little faster as he said those words to me. I don't want to hurt you. I took in what he said but I couldn't let myself believe that. I would get hurt no matter what because Justin and I didn't want the same things out of this. After he got what he hunted me for, he would leave me alone to my nightmares and I could go back to normal. I needed to go back to normal. "I know you won't. I just want to be with you. Don't push me away." I said as sincerely as possible, trying not to cry at the fact that after this, I would never see my brown eyed man again. He sighed and bobbed his head in defeat, leading me by the small of my back to the elevators. He nodded to the man sitting at the front desk before we went to the last golden elevator on the left in a row of many. "This one is the only one that goes up to the penthouse." He pushed the button. "Which I guess is yours?" I raised an eyebrow. "Of course. Who else's?" We waited a couple of seconds and then the elevators dinged, welcoming us in. Justin let me go first and then followed. He reached in his pocket and pulled out a key that he put in the slot under a row of buttons. He twisted it and pushed the top floor at the same time and the elevator came alive. Justin crossed his hands behind him, rocking back and forth on his heels. In that small cubicle, the sexual tension seemed to erupt like a fucking volcano and I could tell he was feeling that same physical tingles that I was because of the way he was standing and breathing. I had to smile to myself again because if I didn't know any better, I would have thought that this was his first time going through this. I should be the nervous one but I had a shot of confidence when I saw him slightly fidgety. He was like a virgin at our first prom. How sweet. We stayed silent for the entire ride up and I didn't know how high we were going but it seemed like forever until the doors dinged again. "After you." Justin said and held the door open for me. I stepped out into a marble foyer with one dark wooden door. The whole open part was circular with an intricate design on the floor. It reminded me of the room from Alice in Wonderland when she first falls down the rabbit hole minus the doors, the potion to make my size change and that pestering rabbit. Justin pulled out a card key and swiped it through the door before opening it. "Don't be shy. I won't bite." He smirked and almost pushed me inside. I was met with something that must have come out of a home magazine. The first thing that I noticed about Justin's apartment was that it was huge, spotless and basically colorless. Right after the door was another marble walkway that led to a couple of steps where the whole place opened up into massive family room with white couches, white carpets, white walls and dark furniture. The light fixtures were sleek and metal, making the whole place seem very modern. He turned on the lights and soft glows illuminated the whole apartment and I could see just how pristine Justin liked things. There were huge windows that went from floor to ceiling, covering an entire wall. A very impressive balcony wrapped its way around the whole place. I saw some stairs that probably led up to a second level that was more impressive than this. Hardwood floors led to a beautiful, stainless steel kitchen that looked like it had never been used and I just wanted to bake something in there but I calmed myself down. There was a lot of artwork on the walls that was surprisingly abstract and was the only thing in the penthouse that added color to the space. "Most of them are Kandinskys." He nodded towards a row of paintings that he saw me eying, "I like modern abstract art. It relaxes me." "Are they originals?" I whispered trying not to speak too loud so I didn't upset the quietness of the apartment. "Yes. I think one of them was stolen back in the forties but who knows." He laughed. "They're beautiful." I looked around the room at the other vibrant pictures that dotted the walls. Lots of colors and shapes created patterns on the canvases, making his apartment resemble an art gallery. I looked around and noticed that this place wasn't very personal. There was one family picture that could have fit in Justin's wallet on the mantel overlooking a gigantic fireplace but that was it. "What's with all the white?" I asked and walked around on the carpeted floors of the room. "It's clean. I have a...problem with dirt so it's best if I can see it so I can clean it up." He muttered almost angrily like he was on a germ killing crusade. I turned to look at him and he was shyly toeing the rug with his shoe, his hands still behind his back. "Did your mother design all of this also?" "Yeah. I just gave her a month to do anything she wanted as long as..." "...as it was white." I nodded, understanding. "Would you like something to drink?" He asked, picking himself back up and trying to change the subject. "Sure." I continued my walk around and saw another piano that Justin swears was on the boat but I don't remember. I went to run my hand over it but he stopped me quickly. "Don't..." He rushed over, "I don't like people touching...things." Justin took my hand and held it in his, almost as if I was a balloon he didn't want to fly away. His grasp was firm yet gentle. I could hear Justin muttering things to himself under his breath but couldn't understand them. I could just piece small phrases together like 'stupid, stop being stupid' and 'why are you such a freak?' I didn't know if he was talking about me but I don't think he was because his face revealed a more self deprecating façade. "Sorry. I should have asked." I said softly, not wanting to interrupt Justin's scolding on himself. "It's no problem." He shook his head and then rushed back over to the alcohol stash. "Can I go outside to look around?" "Please, be my guest." He went and unlocked a pair of double doors. A sudden rush of wind blew through the penthouse as they opened revealing the buildings below. "You own the whole city." I said in amazement as I looked down. It was like we were in heaven with night clouds and frosty air circling around us. Justin just chuckled and went back inside to get some drinks while I was still standing at the doors. The whole balcony was stone and looked like it would work better on the edge of a palace somewhere in Europe. There were chairs and chaise lounges around an actual fire pit. I sat in one of the large, plush seats that practically engulfed my small body. Just like inside, the cushions were white and the furniture was a dark wood. The breeze was whipping around the building but wasn't cold. I heard the soft sound of music coming through the penthouse as it drifted outside. I laughed to myself when I realized that it was Prince's Purple Rain. I had always loved that song but I was surprised to see that Justin had it on his shuffle. He seemed like more of a classical guy, which I also loved but I never thought he would start off with Prince. He was making his intentions known in subtle ways. "Are you enjoying yourself?" Justin asked as he came onto the balcony with two glasses of an amber colored drink in crystal. "Yes, very much. This is beautiful." I took a glass from him and then drank a small sip. The burn was welcome but I could tell that I was a little tipsy already so I remembered to pace myself. "I don't think I've ever been out here before." He sat in a chair and leaned back, unbuttoning his jacket at the same time. I tried to soak up everything about him so that I could remember for the times when we wouldn't be together. "And how long have you lived here?" I asked casually, taking another small sip. "About a year." He shrugged, "I don't really spend much time in this apartment to tell you the truth." "You don't seem to have a home here." "No, I just need a place to sleep." He took a gulp of his drink, "Are you cold?" "No, I'm fine." "So, how do you want to do this?" Justin sat up, hunched over so that his arms were resting on his knees. "Do what?" "Have sex. I know that might be forward but I'm about to burst and I don't think I can just look at you any longer." I chocked on my drink at his admission and it took me a couple of seconds to get my breathing back. "Well then, that was quick." I wiped my shirt that was stained slightly with the alcohol from my glass. He let out a rushed breath, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say that." He replied quickly, "I can't believe I just said that." Justin ran his hands through his hair, once again chastising himself for obviously being caught off guard by his actions. I noticed him doing that a lot tonight. "It's not a problem. You just kind of jumped in the lake without warning me." I sighed, not knowing what else to say. "Zee, I'm going to be honest with you, I don't think I've ever met a man so beautiful in my life and I'm not just saying that to get you into bed." He leaned into me and his voice was filled with sexy, low, lust filled innuendo. My mouth opened a couple of times to say something but I couldn't find words. "I need you." He said firmly. "I really need you and my whole body is just humming from being close to you without touching your skin." He ran a finger over my exposed arms and a cliché row of goose bumps sprang up. At this point, I had to remind myself to breathe. "I don't know what you want." I spoke softly. "Yes you do and you want it to."He whispered in my ear, "Don't deny me, Zayn." My name dripping from his lips was almost orgasm inducing and he added a slight Canadian twang to it that nearly made me fall to my knees in worship. "I don't want this to be anything but sex." I lied out of my teeth as strongly as I could. "Of course." Justin kissed right below my ear and licked the spot slightly. I shuddered and he chuckled as he placed another kiss on my skin. I had to say these things so that I would appear unwavering in my decision. Just sex with Justin wasn't a possibility for me at this point but what was I going to do? I had to take this for what it was worth. Just sex, Zayn! "I'm sorry if you think I'm a complete asshole but this is who I am." He pulled back and looked at me with sad eyes, "I'm sorry I can't give you more." I boldly got into Justin's lap, forgetting my drink on the table and pushed him against the back of the comfortable chair. My legs went on either side of his thighs and his hands took positions on my hips. "I'm not asking you for more. I knew what I was getting myself into. We can have fun until this is over at least." My voice almost cracked but I caught myself. He nodded without words. I took my chance and kissed him with more force than we had been using the past couple of days. This time, unlike the one downstairs, our tongues clashed together in a vicious dance and I let him dominate as he swept his through the inside of my mouth. I had never been kissed like this before and it was intensely erotic while still being slightly sad because I knew that I was going to have to give this entire experience up shortly. My fingers knotted into his hair as he lifted me up, taking us inside with one quick movement. We stayed connected and I didn't open my eyes, trying to save the taste of him on my lips. I felt him walking lightly through the house, leaving the outside door open and then he raised himself up the stairs impressively without even breathing. "Are you sure about this?" He grumbled between our lips. "It's just sex." I repeated my mantra out loud. His breath was cool and refreshing, almost like a peppermint. As I started to whimper, I felt a calm wash over me. I knew it was him, working his magic again. This was a road that Justin was well traveled in so I was going to let him take over because I was over fighting him. I felt Justin's lust through his body and I was suddenly at his mercy. "Relax Zayn, I'm not going to hurt you" I heard him whisper as I felt him set me down and my feet hit carpet. "I'm sorry about treating you so badly, but this is the only way I could get you to hear me out, and get what we both want and need." I slipped off my shoes and couldn't take my eyes off of him as he removed his jacket, "I know you feel it Zayn." His voice got deeper, and thick with desire. "I drown myself in your lust, your want, and the excitement that you feel when you think about the possibilities." "Oh Jesus..." I panted because I was basically through from his voice alone. I didn't even realize we were in Justin's bedroom but we could have been in the pits of hell for all I cared. He moved back towards a chair near the door and set his jacket down. I closed my eyes to keep my head alive. This was the most intense feeling I had ever had in my short life and Justin's was about to kill me. I suddenly felt his cool breath wash over me as he whispered into my neck. "You have no idea how long you've tempted me Zayn" He trailed his fingers down the side of my neck, I couldn't help the shiver that went through me when he skimmed the side of my chest. I kept my eyes closed so I didn't have to be hit by his brown orbs. "I've waited long enough to take you as mine" I felt his lips against my ear. "My body craves for you..." I moaned in response. For some reason, Justin's Canadian accent was peeking out and my pants were getting tight. I wasn't even going to deny that. ( I don't know for sure if canadians have an accent, if they don't let's pretend they do lol) "You were meant to be mine." He softy bit my ear lobe. "That first time I saw you at Plasma, I wanted to throw you against my desk and fuck your tight ass from behind, not caring who saw." "Really?" I asked in a breath. "Of course." He ran one finger along the contours of my neck and collarbone, "Keep your eyes closed." His voice was nothing more than wind but it was speaking volumes. I felt him move away from me then. I could hear the faint sound of a zipper and the shuffling of clothes. I kept my eyes shut tight and was left standing in the room with nothing to hold or feel. Justin was at my side in an instant."Please Zayn, give me this. Give me one night. That's all I ask for." I gasped when his hand made contact with my left ass cheek that was covered with my pants but I still felt the fire from his touch. "My lust for you is so strong..." My body gave in and I arched into his hand, begging for more. "You don't have to beg me Justin. I'm more than willing..." His hand left me all too soon. I hated not being able to see what he was doing yet excited at the same time. I felt myself getting hot at the thought of what he was going to do. I heard him groan from behind me. His nose was grazing the pulse point of my neck and his hand grazed the skin of my stomach as he lifted my shirt slightly, "My God, you smell sinfully exquisite" I jumped when I suddenly felt his hand inside of my jeans but still outside of my briefs, "Can I taste you Zayn?" His other hand quickly skimmed down my stomach. He didn't give me time to talk but I wouldn't have been able to because I was more focused on his nose that was running up and down my neck. I moaned in anticipation and as an answer. His hand that was in my pants, left. I almost protested until it dove under my briefs without hesitation. I hissed in pain and pleasure when his hand slowly stroking my cock with no warning. My head rested on his shoulder behind me as we continued to stand. I didn't know how much longer my legs were going to keep me up. "God you're so fucking hard. I can't wait to be inside you." Justin said harshly. I cried out in loss when he removed his finger. I couldn't help but blush when I heard him hum in satisfaction as he sucked my pre come off his fingers from behind me, "I would let you taste but this nectar is all mine." I was suddenly lifted off of the ground and felt the softness of his bed on my beck. My eyes were still closed, from his command but also because I was trying to remember this for the rest of my life. I had only experienced his touch but he was bringing out feelings in me that I had never thought possible. Justin's long fingers began undoing the button on my jeans with quick and nimble motions. They slid down my legs easily, leaving of me in nothing more than my top and briefs. He quickly released my chest from its prison as he unbutton the shirt Perrie forced me into tonight. It came off of my body without problem and was flung onto the floor. I felt the bed shift as Justin climbed between my legs. He held my hands above my head in a vice grip that kind of hurt but felt good at the same time, "You're mine for the night." He kissed my neck and sucked, "Say it." "I'm yours." I panted, my breathing coming harder. "Good boy." I got a nip from his teeth. His refreshing breath washed over my face as his lips claimed mine with force. My lips had a mind of their own as they responded to him willingly. I could feel that Justin's kisses were desperate and full of passion that I didn't think any lesser man could hold. God, I could kiss this man all day. I started to struggle to get my hands free. I wanted to pull him closer but he wouldn't let me budge. It was a wonder that he could hold both of my hands so firmly with just one of his but I shouldn't have been surprised. I arched my back and moaned when I felt his tongue make contact with mine. It was like a shock to my system, each of us fighting for dominance though we both knew he would win in the end. When he noticed my breathing was becoming an issue he pulled back. My breaths ragged as I dragged in much needed air. Justin trailed kisses down my jaw. I threw my head back when I felt him lick down the front of my neck, when he got in between my chest he stopped and placed kisses across my chest. "Do you realize how beautiful you are?" His voice was rough and parched, "I would fuck you every second of every day if I could." Why can't you? Please make that fantasy a reality! When he came in contact with my right nipple I hissed in pleasure. He latched on and swirled his tongue around it before giving a soft nibble. He paid proper attention to that one before he moved on to my left nipple. After they were both pebbly and sufficiently hardened, Justin let his kisses travel down again. He continued his trail down my stomach with wet lips that could probably suck the nails out of a floorboard. At this point, my hands were free but I wouldn't dare move them. Before long, I could now feel his breath against my heated center and I let out a weird cry that sounded like a bird being strangled. "I take it you like my kisses?" Justin chuckled from down below. "Yes." My voice was no louder than a mouse's. I shivered in anticipation when I felt his lips meet my briefs that covered me. "Keep those eyes closed Zayn and don't try to move." Justin latched his fingers into my briefs and slid them down my legs just as easily as my jeans, "No moving Zayn." He teased me quietly. Nothing happened for a God's honest minute. I counted the seconds. There were no more kisses and no more touches. I could still hear him down there but I was too scared to open my eyes to check. I screamed when I felt his tongue on my cock, diving in with no warning. "Shit..." I yelled to the high heavens. "God, you taste exquisite." He moaned against me. "Everything about you is a sin." When his tongue found my bundle of nerves, I couldn't help but thrust further into his mouth. "Please" I whimpered. "Please, what?" Even though I couldn't see him I could tell he was smirking but at this point I didn't care. "More, please I need more." I didn't know what more was, but I knew I needed something, anything to release the pressure running through my body. I could feel his fingers make their way to my balls before he gently entering me into his mouth. I gasped at the warmness, his digit tongue working its way up, down & around me . "Oh.....oh,God." I moaned, my back lifting off the bed, hands finding his hair and my whole body seemed like it was flying. I felt his tongue run along my tip as then he decided to let my cock touch the back of his throat, i thrusted my way in and out of his mouth as much as i could trying to reach my orgasm. "Justin....almost.....please." I begged. Right when I was on the edge he stopped, the pure definition of torture. I whimpered in protest as he pulled away. I felt him hover over me. "Open your eyes Zayn." Justin whispered into my ear. I did as he said and could only marvel at him. He was in nothing more than boxers and I didn't know how I missed that but he was glorious. His chest and...everything was carved from stone. I thought I was looking at one of Michelangelo's statues. Justin was perfect from his strong legs to his toned stomach to his chest to his bright brown eyes. Perfection. He leaned over me from between my legs and tenderly kissed my forehead. I could feel his finger on my entrance ready to prep me, I nodded my head to let him to go ahead. I felt his finger enter me and I tensed up. "Relax" Justin whispered in my ear, and I relaxed after a minute telling him to add another.  I could feel the evidence of his lust against my inner thigh and my God, you could have told me I was in bed with an elephant and I would have believed you. I was scared to even look down there, just the feeling was enough to scare the shit out of me. He quickly pulled on a condom with lightening speed and I didn't even realize it until I heard the crinkling of foil on the floor. "I'm sorry if this hurts." He whispered against my skin, his tobacco scented breath intoxicating me. "I can't wait any longer to be inside you." I couldn't find my voice, but I knew I couldn't deny him anything, especially my body. We were too far gone to back out now, and if I was being honest with myself, would die happy if I spent the rest of my years in this bed, with him by my side. That can't happen Zayn. Just one night! "I'm sorry beautiful, this is going to hurt." I could feel the head of him at my entrance. "I'll go as slow as I can Zayn." I moaned out when I felt a burst of lust coming from him. Justin slowly entered me. I gripped onto his shoulders as hard as I could, letting him fill me inch by inch. I wasn't a virgin but it had been a long time so I was extremely...tender. There was a slight feeling of pain within me but I would die ten times over to feel that every day. I never felt so many emotions before in my life. Lust, excitement, eagerness, completion, desire, anticipation, pleasure and finally...love? "Ahh God!" I screamed as he pushed further into me. I felt him tense and stop breathing, no doubt due to the sounds I was making. "Keep going Justin. Please... keep going." I ordered. He pushed forward until we were completely joined. The feel of him inside me was beyond words and pleasure started replacing the pain. The need for release took over. My legs wrapped around him, trying to draw him forward. He slowly withdrew and thrust all the way in. "Oh Zayn, so hot, never felt anything like this." His speech was stammered. I could only pant as an answer. His movements grew frantic, craving the release we both needed, "What the hell are you doing to me?" He rested his head on my shoulder as he continued to move above me with fluid motions. I gripped onto his hair like it was my line, tying me to this earth. I lost complete track of time as the feelings in me grew deeper and the heat in my stomach grew hotter. I stopped counting minutes after we got to ten and my whole body was aching to be closer to him, to be filled completely by him. Justin thrust freely in and out of me, ecstasy screaming from every pore of my body. I wanted this to last forever. His breaths became ragged, his movements turning desperate. "Justin... Oh god.....Please, I'm close, don't stop." I screamed, not embarrassed that he was making me act like a wild crazed animal. He roared my name as he exploded inside me. My own climax only seconds behind him. I felt him almost still within me but he kept up a constant motion as we both rode out our orgasams to the point of no return. "Shit." He whispered harshly as his climax took over. I didn't relinquish my hold on him and didn't know what to do. Was it over? Was all of this over? He continued to move inside me until my tremors ended. Justin rolled over bringing me on top of him mumbling praises in my ear. Him telling me how beautiful and exquisite I was and me trying to get my breathing back. "That was...by far...the best sex I've ever had." Justin rested against the pillows with my head lying on his sweat soaked chest. "I'm glad I could provide." I giggled half knowing what was going on, "What now?" "I think we're in need of a shower. " He smirked, "You're all sweaty." He ran his tongue long my neck, "Salty Zayn is the best kind." "Are you sure you're ready for another round?" "Please, I have the stamina of a bull." His chest rumbled with proud laughter. I gently climbed off of him and stood stark naked, unashamed and on wobbly legs, trying to recover from that sky high orgasm. He swung his legs over the bed and took my hand, pulling me in between his thighs, "Did I do well?" He asked and kissed my stomach. "Perfect." I rolled my head back as his kisses went higher. "I think I need to get you wet." He spoke seductively and stood up, leading me towards the bathroom. Just like downstairs, the bathroom was white marble and very fashionable. Everything from the sink to faucets to the toilet was futuristic in a very simple, minimal way. It somehow reminded me of Justin with strong lines and smooth surfaces. "What kind of smell do you like?" Justin asked as he flipped on the lights to the cavernous bathroom that looked bigger than my dorm. "What are you talking about?" I was scared to touch stuff so I just held my hands in front of me, trying to cover up slightly. He went to a dark wooden cabinet that was as big as a bookcase and opened up two doors. There, in rows of military like beauty, stood probably every body cleaning product known to man. Shaving creams, body washes, shampoos, conditioners, moisturizers, exfoliates, face creams, razors. It was all like some corner pharmacy but better. "What smell?" He asked with a grin, "I personally like ocean spray." He held up a navy blue bottle. Justin had somewhat of a giddy bounce in his step and I didn't know if it was from the sex or if he was just extra happy but it was making me sad to think that I would never see this side of him again. I let out a deep breath and gave him the best smile I could, "That sounds good to me." I shrugged, "What's with all of this?" I inspected his bathroom closet. "Oh...I...uh..." He struggled for words and I could tell that he didn't really want to talk about it. I put my hand on his chest, "It's okay. You don't have to say anything." I got the slight feeling that he had some sort of social disorder but I knew he was good at hiding things so he probably wouldn't tell me if I asked. He nodded and then sadly smiled, almost like I had done a couple of seconds earlier, "Are you ready for the best shower you've ever had?" "Do your worst." I kissed him slowly, tenderly, lovingly. He backs away with a couple of things from his closet and then pulls the glass shower wall back. "Get in," He murmured and turned on the steam shower. It was one of those beastly things that should be in a gym somewhere with spigots that poured torrents from all angles. I stepped in the tiled shower carefully and was suddenly enveloped in steam and deep fragrances. The spray of water was heavenly and worked wonders on my knotted muscles from the fucking love marathon that I just ran. Okay, so it was one orgasm but it felt like I had been sprinting for miles. He slipped into the shower stall to stand behind me, and I felt his strong hands at my shoulders, gently squeezing and massaging. "I meant it when I said that was the best sex I've ever had." He kissed my neck softly. I hummed an answer. His thighs lightly brushed against my ass and I melted into him. "You're pretty tight." He said. "Is there a double meaning to those words?" I asked without turning around. "Of course." He whispered and my legs gave out. He caught me before I fell thankfully. He wrapped his arms around me and gently rubbing one of his thumbs over one of my nipples. His other hand traveled down to my cock, applying light pressure with the heel of his hand. He kissed my shoulder and hummed softly in my ear. His semi-hard on was in the small of my back, and I leaned into him, letting the hot water wash over our joined bodies. "I love touching you," Justin said quietly into my ear. He releases the pressure of his hand, but then used his fingers to rub over my tip, "I loved watching you come, Zayn. Tell me what to do and I'll do it." "Right there," I whined as my hand flies to the back of his head, bolting him to me. I felt like I might collapse. Justin held me up, whispering in my ear how much he wanted to please me, how much I deserved to be pleased, how my pleasure gets him off. "I can't wait to do this over and over and over and over..." He kissed me with each word. That was when I pulled away from him and backed up under the water spray on the opposite wall. I had to get away from him, I had to gain some control over this or I would never leave. The whole reason I came up here in the first place was so that we could get what we wanted and then I could go. I needed to shift the situation back in my favor. "Did...did I do something wrong?" Justin asked almost shyly. His face looked so juvenile with its water soaked skin and droplets falling from his damp hair that was covering his eyes. I put on a game face, "No, I just don't want me to have all the fun." I moved closer to him, moving my hand from his hair to his stomach, feeling the way his muscles contracted under my touch. He nodded with his lips slightly parted. "I won't let you be the only one giving our gifts." I slid down his body slowly until I was on my knees in front of his exceptionally large member and didn't waste any time stroking him. "Zayn, you shouldn't be doing this." Justin leaned against the tilled wall. "Why? You don't like it?" He said something in an answer but I didn't understand it. I continued to stroke him, watching and feeling his cock getting harder with each second as it filled with blood. I kissed his tip, letting my tongue poke out, tasting what he had to offer. "Zayn, I mean it. You need to get up." "I'm fine down here." I ran my nose along his thick rod that seemed to only get impossibly bigger. I had only done this sort of thing a couple of times with Lucky and it usually repulsed me but with Justin, I didn't feel ashamed at all. I was actually excited and eager to taste him. I was about to take him in fully but I was suddenly yanked off of the floor and held tightly by my shoulders. "What's wrong?" I asked as I saw Justin's heavy breathing and wild eyes. "I told you to get up." He spoke viciously but calmed down after a couple of seconds and ran a hand over his hair, moving it from his face. "I'm...sorry if I scared you or something. I thought you would like it." I said, slightly confused. He sighed, "Zayn, I usually do but...I don't want you on your knees. You're too good for that." It took me a couple of seconds to understand what he was saying. This was an Justin that I wasn't used to. "That kind of thing isn't what I want to see you doing. Do I make myself clear?" Justin said like I was a child, "You're too good for that kind of thing and I want you to promise to never get on your knees for any man." I didn't say anything but my mouth opened a couple of times trying to will words out. "Promise me, Zayn." He almost shook me. I nodded dumbly. After that awkward moment had went by, something seemed to pass between us that wasn't at all sexual. The shower turned from a sex marathon to a sensual wash down. We didn't talk at all but his touches on my body said more than enough. His ocean spray body wash seeped into my skin and I leaned against his strong chest as he massaged my muscles with strong hands. Nothing was said the entire time but I didn't mind at all. Over two hours later, we were wrapped in Egyptian cotton towels and I used a brush to get the tangles out of my hair. Justin stood against the door and watched. I kept my eyes in the mirror, not wanting to see him or I wouldn't have the strength to leave. I had to leave. "Now what?" I asked, still brushing. "What do you want?" "I don't know." I answered truthfully. "Now, I guess you and..." "Can I stay until the morning?" I cut him off, not wanting to hear his voice end whatever we had. He looked down at me oddly and thought for a second, "I usually don't let people stay over." A sharp pang of hurt ripped through me as I realized that to Justin, this was still just sex. He was treating me like everyone else he had in this bed, without even caring but I knew this was going to happen so I pulled myself together before my face betrayed me. "It's too late for me to go home now." I lied. I just wanted to stay with him as long as possible, "Please." He huffed and scrubbed his face with both palms, "I guess. I've never been through this before. Should I...sleep on the couch?" "No!" I said louder than I should have, "I don't want to kick you out of your room." I offered as my reply. I didn't want him to leave me and I felt like a clinging bitch. "Are you okay, sleeping in there...with me?" He asked hesitantly, pointing towards the bedroom, "I have a couple guest bedrooms but they're not clean. Are you sure you want to sleep in my bed?" "Yes." I whispered. I took his hand and led him back to the bed. I unwrapped my body from my towel and took a chance, climbing into his cool sheets that we had tangled up hours before. He looked torn for a second before letting his towel fall to the floor and getting in with me. He laid down and I rested my head on his chest, listening to his heart. "Okay, then." Justin said simply and pulled a sheet over us, not letting me fall off of his chest. Our naked bodies were still touching and I wouldn't have had it any other way. The seconds turned into minutes, the minutes turned into hours without a single word passing between us. It was when I felt Justin's chest rise and fall rhythmically, that I decided it was time for me to leave. I nimbly climbed off of him and couldn't help but gaze at his body wrapped in the sheet when I stood up. He was incredible and even sleeping, he looked like a Greek god. I pulled myself together and started picking up the clothes that were on the floor, putting them on hastily. A quick glance at the clock told me that it was four in the morning. I gave Justin one last look and made a gamble, placing a soft kiss on his full lips before padding downstairs lightly, almost making no noise. I didn't know if I should leave a note of thank you or what but I had to get out. I couldn't get more attached than I already was. This feeling I had for Justin was so strong that it was physically painful for me to leave but I had to. I couldn't change a man who didn't want it and I sure as hell didn't want to try. I couldn't let myself destroy my emotions anymore. Just one night. That's all it took, for lust to become love.

[meanwhileinoz]

20+ Easy Ways To Clean Your House That Takes Little To No Effort

Cleaning your house always seems like a neverending task. No matter what, you feel as though it’s going to take up more time than you bargained for. Plus, it seems as though whenever you clean, it just gets dirty in .5 seconds anyway. So, all in all, what’s the point? Instead of getting on your hands and knees to scrub for hours on end, there are some brilliant hacks online that make cleaning your house easier than ever.

1. Sweeper slippers, so you can sweep your home whenever you walk to the freezer to get yourself more ice cream.

BuzzFeed

BuzzFeed

If you have hardwood or tile floors, you have gotta have at least five pairs of these houseshoes. I just toss them into the wash without tearing off the sole to wash separately. Reason: the soles on mine by far outlast the tops of the shoes. They help control dust and animal hair. I like them. // Edited after thought: Pairs of these shoes were handed to out-of-state traveler friends (a fella and his two grown daughters). They sounded so thankful to have these microfiber houseshoes to wear, and they expressed at how cushy they felt.

–Penny

Get them on Amazon for $10.40.

2. If you have pets that shed (or if you shed) you need this easy-to-pick-up-hair broom for your carpets. It traps all the hair, all the time.

Amazon

This broom is awesome! I have two large breed dogs (that she’d like crazy) and hard wood floors that have to be swept daily. I don’t know how well it would work on carpets, but it does an excellent job sweeping fur, hair, and dirt up. The best part… You don’t have to clean the bristles like a regular broom. I just rinsed the broom when I was done and the little dirt that was on the bristles washed away! I hate having to pull dust balls and hair out of normal broom bristles.

Just note: The rubber bristles are not fine enough to clean under moldings (the small gap between the molding and the floor) for those areas, I still use a vacuum. I’m not sure why this broom has negative reviews.. I read a bunch of them and can not relate to any of the issues people complained about. I’m chalking them up to user error. As John Lydgate said “you can’t please all of the people all of the time”.

Get it on Amazon for $18.50.

3. If you tie two microfiber rags around a pair of tongs, you can clean those moldy refrigerator shelves that have been smelling like rotten chicken and spilled cold brew.

onecrazyhouse.com

onecrazyhouse.com

This brilliant idea comes from One Crazy House. You can use any tongs you have in the house, and can easily buy microfiber cloths on Amazon for only $9.99.

4. If you have a ceiling fan, quit tossing dust around your room and use an old pillowcase to clean it.

homemakerchic.com

This idea comes from Homemaker Chic. Not only is it way easier than using a duster, but the dust falls right into the pillowcase so you’re not sneezing your brains out.

5. Use this spot cleaner to get even the toughest stains out of your carpets without scrubbing like a madman. Just blot it right on.

Amazon

I had terrible rust and oil stains all over the seats of my car when I bought it. I tried other cleaners to get it out, but they actually made the stains darker. I took it to the dealership to see if they could get it out and they flat out told me no, so I gave up and lived with it for almost 5 years. I tried this after it was recommended by a friend. I sprayed it on and literally watched the stain run right off my seat. It was amazing! I thought I was going to have to pay hundreds of dollars to replace the seats in my car because nothing else would work. This stuff really is awesome!

Get a bottle of this easy-to-use cleaner on Amazon for only $10.50.

6. Put vinegar in a zip-lock bag and place it over your showerhead for 1-2 hours to get all that rusty, dusty mold-ish stuff off.

BuzzFeed

7. Get into the cracks of your tiles or bathroom floor/shower with an automatic scrubbing brush, which takes the time and effort out of cleaning.

Amazon

Ok, I feel stupid writing this, but I hope it encourages you to buy this…. I just spent 2 hours scrubbing the ceramic tile floor in my 2nd bathroom. This is a room where my elderly, incontinent cat lives so… use your imagination. I leave pee pads and towels down, but she still does her thing. I clean her room consistently, and every few months I do a heavy duty scrubbing by soaking the floor and grout in Nature’s Miracle and start scrubbing. It takes hours because I can’t get the corners well, and the grout is such a pain to clean.

Well, this product is amazing. I used this for the grout lines, and I used the corner attachment for… corners. It was amazing. It got gunk and grime off the grout that has been there for years (I haven’t resealed this floor since it will have to be taken out when the cat dies). I even used these to scrub the cabinet doors, around the toilet, etc. and they were really, really great. you have to put the right amount of pressure on the brush, but once you do- it’s *wonderful.* See how stupid I feel, writing such a glowing review for this? I swear I wasn’t endorsed, I wish they would pay me to test products after this! Between my Rubbermaid Reveal power Scrubber and Nature’s Miracle my bathroom is cleaner than it has been in years, and in less time than it’s ever taken me to deep clean it.

Get it on Amazon for only $13.54.

8. Use your dishwashing wand for floors by putting vinegar in it to scrub your tiles/stone shower.

smartschoolhouse.com

You can also use it for the glass doors to get them perfectly clean, according to  Smart School House. You can grab one of these on Amazon for only $9.38.

9. For those nasty, disgusting toilet rings, use a pumice stone to get the colors and stains out way easier and quicker (because who wants to spend time scrubbing a toilet, anyway?)

Amazon

 The house I recently moved into had a hard water line in the toilet and it was no big deal for the first couple of months. I never really paid much attention to it. That is, until my mom said she would be coming over for a visit. Suddenly, the hard water line in the toilet was glaring at me, making me feel like a disgusting human being living in filth. I had to get rid of it. A kitchen sponge and a dish cloth were both ruined in my attempts. Finally, after countless hours of research and many sleepless nights, I had my answer: The Pumie. As soon as it arrived I was on my hands and knees scrubbin’ that bowl. After it was done I was stood over my toilet with the same posture as a successful climber reaching the summit of Mt. Everest. I had defeated the hard water line with The Pumie. The satisfaction I had by accomplishing this otherwise mundane task made me realize I had truly entered adulthood. But, I did not stop there. Hard water marks around the bathroom sink drain? Gone. Hard water lines around the kitchen faucet? GTFO. The Pumie is truly a marvel to behold and I will be eternally grateful for it’s help in vanquishing the hard water lines that would have made my mother disown me.

Get it on Amazon for $9.15.

10. After you clean your toilet rings, use these incredible toilet refreshers that help to prevent the ring from ever coming back again.

Amazon

These are the best in-bowl cleaners that I have found after trying many others. They keep the toilet bowl fresh especially on the toilets that are less frequently used in my house. I have found them to last a month or more. My father, a plumber, warned me years ago never to use those cleaners which you drop in the tank because the strong chemicals will eventually corrode the plumbing fixtures. Yes, I took his advice after some unwanted repairs.

Grab them on Amazon for only $1.98. 

11. If you have a stainless steel fridge, Pledge will not only clean it but also polish it at the same damn time.

thediygirl.com 

The DIY Girl, just spray the Pledge right onto the fridge and buff it off with a dry cloth. Grab a bottle of pledge on Amazon for only $4.19. 

12. Clean your stove top in only 5 minutes by using some dish soap (like dawn) and hydrogen peroxide. Use a dish soap brush to scrub it off.

mythirtyspot.com  

Hack from My Thirty Spot.

13. Clean any white sink easily and have it sparkling again by using baking soda and hydrogen peroxide.

lemonslavenderandlaundry.com 

Hack from Lemons, Lavender, and Laundry.

14. Clean every inch of your keyboards by using this double sided brush.

Amazon 

My laptop hasn’t been so clean since I bought it! Much better than compressed air cleaning. Using the rubbery end, you can even clean off the finger-tracker; and using the little brush, you get out all those annoying little crumbs and pieces of stuff that both impede your keyboard performance and make it look dirty. I wish I would have taken before and after pictures—the difference is astonishing! I was skeptical, but this little tool is worth the price.

Get it on Amazon for $4.95.

15. Use a lint roller on any lampshades that have a bunch of built-up hair and dust on them.

creeklinehouse.com 

Hack from Creekline House.

16. Also, use a lint roller on any screens to capture all that pollen and dust.

handymanmagazine.co.nz 

Hack from Handyman Magazine.

17. Mix baking powder and a flowery-smelling essential oil to spread all over your mattress. The scent will get soaked into it, and when you’re done, just vacuum it right up.

onegoodthingbyjillee.com 

Hack from One Good Thing by Jillee.

18. Put your pillows in the washing machine while you let the baking soda sit in your bed so they smell brand new.

thehappierhomemaker.com

Hack from the Happier Homemaker.

19. Get rust stains out of your dishwasher by running a cycle of Kool-Aid.

wikihow.com 

Hack from Wikihow.

20. Get weird scents out of your washing machine (like that horrible wet-dog smell) by running on an empty cycle with vinegar.

iheartnaptime.net 

Hack from I Heart Naptime.

21. Clean your vacuum filters in the dishwasher to save time and get a better clean.

agirlandherneedle.blogspot.com 

Hack from A Girl and Her Needle.

22. Also, clean your vent covers, filters, and anything else that’s easily removable in the dishwasher so you can let it run and do something better with your time while it’s cleaning.

onecrazyhouse.com

Hack from One Crazy House.

The post 20+ Easy Ways To Clean Your House That Takes Little To No Effort appeared first on .

https://postaddict.com/2018/03/09/20-easy-ways-to-clean-your-house-that-takes-little-to-no-effort/