It's been a whole week since I hopped on a plane to come home and stumbled upon a Netflix series from Sweden that altered the chemistry of my brain!!!!

One week since I sent an anonymous message to @young-royals-confessions while waiting for my suitcase because I had ALL these feelings and thoughts inside myself and I needed to let them out somehow because the alternative was screaming at everybody in the airport about how GOOD AND SWEET AND AWESOME AND SAD BUT LOVELY AND REAAAAL THIS SHOW WAS?? also THE CHEMISTRY BETWEEN THE TWO LEADS??? That made feel SO MANY things?? Even with a look?? Because I could FEEL their silent communication. AND THE LONGING!!!! HOW? How was I supposed to be normal about this show when it's just beautiful and with beautiful people, it had me in disbelief Omar Rudberg was a real person lmao Definitely most beautiful man I've seen though!

To think I picked Young Royals because it was roughly 6 hours long and I didn't want to sleep on the plane to not mess with my sleeping schedule. Which I did anyway since I watched the second season immediately after I got home lmao Who needs sleep when I was dying to know if a fictional Swedish prince was going to get back together with his gorgeous Latino boyfriend with the amazing voice who happened to be the love of his life??? They gave me so much energy that I only felt the lack of sleep on Friday lmao

Now, I'm basically this:

Thank you again to @young-royals-confessions (@simonsapelsin ) for letting me freak out and for everyone who was so nice to me it gave me the confidence to release all my thoughts and feelings about season 2 too!!

And thank you to everyone who has been extremely welcoming since I made this blog, you guys are awesome and I already love you all!! 💜💜

Voluntary Victim - Yandere! Yoongi x reader

Warning: Sexual content

Finding a victim was like shooting fish in a barrel. Dozens of young men and women surrounded her, each adorned with accessories bought with daddy’s money and high to the heavens on whatever substance they could find.

The boy who had his arm around their waist at that moment seemed a bit more refined than the others - he was worth a million dollars, sure, but he at least seemed to be a bit more modest.

They stopped trying to spy the drunken boy they’d just seen sneak off into the restroom and turned to focus the gentleman by their side.

“Hi! My friends call me Angel.” They shouted over the thumping bass, watching in amusement as the young man’s eyebrows furrowed in trying to hear what they were saying.

“That name suits you. I’m Yoongi.” He replied simply. “Do you want a drink?”

“Of course.” (Y/N) gave him a cheeky smile and took his hand within their own to lead him towards the bar.

“What will you be having?” He called out over the music once they had arrived.

“Surprise me.” Was all they said. A simple tactic really - made them think they cared about his opinion, that they would do as they pleased.

He nodded and as soon as he made eye contact with one of the bar staff they abandoned the gaggle of people trying to flag them down and listened intently as he leaned over to talk into their ear.

That was how they knew they had struck gold. The bartender didn’t even hesitate in making their drinks right away, and the lack of payment screamed that he was on some kind of guest list.

Once he had passed one of the glasses over to (Y/N), the glint in his eye said that their night was going according to plan.

“Are you here often?” He raised his voice slightly, and (Y/N) shook their head in response.

“First time. Maybe you can show me around?”

“What?” He leaned in closer, his body pressing deliciously close to theirs. “I can’t hear you.”

“I’ve never been here before. Are you a regular?”

He shook his head, though they weren't sure if it was because of the question or because of their uncomfortable conditions.

“Should we find somewhere a bit quieter?” (Y/N) nodded, and with their cocktail in one hand and his warm hand clasping their other Yoongi led them through one of the staff only doors - receiving affirming nods from the staff along the way - and into a more secluded lounge.

There were LED lights lining the walls lighting the room up into a rich royal blue, and there were leather sofas and coffee tables dotted around.

“Normally this is where we hold member’s parties. But tonight, Father said I could have it to myself, and whichever guests I please.”

Yoongi hummed, leading them gently to one of the sofas and placing his drink down on the table so that both his hands were now free. (Y/N) took a sip for courage before following suit.

“What do you do for a living then?” They asked, her fingertips subtly rubbing circles into his thigh.

“I’m training to take over my father’s business.” He answered simply. “What about you, Angel?”

“I’m studying English.” (Y/N) purred, leaning in slightly. “But I don’t have any plans for the future, unlike you.”

“Pretty young things like you don’t need a plan when there’s men like me to take care of you.”

“Maybe so. Or maybe I could take care of you.” Yoongi smirked at their comment, leaning forward to grab his drink.

“I’m sure you can, baby.”

They continued to caress his thigh as he drank.

“You know, you seem so well spoken, Angel. There’s more to your pretty little head than most the vermin out there.” (Y/N) wanted to vomit, but they kept up their saccharine smile.

“Really?” It was time to make their move. “I know how else I can prove to you how much better I am than those other whores, you know.”

He raised his eyebrows, intrigued, as they pressed a sloppy kiss to his lips.

Their fingers found the buttons on his neatly pressed shirt and slowly started to pop them open.

“Can I ask you something…?” They whispered, their fingertips tracing over the smooth skin of his exposed chest and appreciating how he just barely shuddered under her touch.

Yoongi nodded, imploring them to go on.

“I’ve always wanted to be more… adventurous. But none of the guys I’ve fucked have ever wanted to try anything with me. But I know you’re far better than them, right?”

There was some unknown emotion glazing over Yoongi’s eyes - intrigue, maybe mixed with some jealousy?

“Will you let me…” They dug into their wallet, and pulled out a pair of steel handcuffs. “put these on you?”

He visibly gulped, but (Y/N) could tell by the flush covering his cheeks that they had him hook, line and sinker.

“Please, gorgeous. Make this night special for me?” They purred. Finally, he gave them an apprehensive nod and they sat up with a happy smirk.

Their fingers ran up and down the smooth pale skin of his arm, before they gently pulled on his shirt and pushed him to the ground, right next to the coffee table.

Yoongi’s eyes were shining as “Angel” sat on his lap, looking at them like they were a gift granted by heaven. His breathing only got heavier as they pressed their chest to his, taking his wrists and securing them behind the leg on the coffee table. When they were done, they pressed a kiss to Yoongi’s neck and he felt his face burn up as if he was eight years old.

However, rather than attempting to make any more advances as he was hoping, his companion’s focus changed entirely.

“Your watch is very nice.”Their fingers danced along his wrist, fiddling with the expensive leather. “How much did it cost you?”

“That doesn’t matter.” He huffed. “Chicken feed, darling. Please…?”

(Y/N) just continued to inspect it and ignore his subtle whines for attention.

“I could get a pretty penny for this, couldn’t I?” Yoongi felt his heart drop as he felt them unclasp it and hold it up to the light. “Cartier, one of a kind. Mind if I keep it?”

“Whatever, please just-”

“What else do you have on you?” Tucking the watch into their wallet, they finally made eye contact with him again.

Yoongi didn’t reply, a frustrated sigh leaving his lips.

“Did you bring your wallet?”

He shook his head, but they stuck their hand into his jacket pocket and found the thick wad of leather tucked away. With an impressed whistle they flicked through the cash whilst tipping his credit cards onto the floor.

“You… you can have it all. It doesn’t matter.” Yoongi rattled the chains again, desperately trying to get free.

“Thank you.” They smiled, shoving the wallet into their pocket. “Where’s your phone?”

“My back pocket.” The young man hissed. “Please, if you just want my money baby-”

“Shut it.” (Y/N) shot back as they retrieved his top model phone and chucked out the SIM card. “If you start making a fuss I’ll shut you up myself.”

He blushed. Clearly, he was some kind of fucked up to be aroused by this.

“I think I might- wait, what is this?” A smile settled on (Y/N)’s face as they unclasped the chain from his neck and admired how it shone in the LED lights.

“Anyway, as I was saying, I think it’s time I take my leave. The night’s still young.”

They pressed a kiss to his flushed cheek.

“Thank you for the great time.”

“No, don’t go. Please, you can have my shit, just come back here!” Yoongi whined as she walked away with a spring in their step, shutting the door behind them to cut off his cries from the outside world as they escaped the stuffy nightclub and out into the cool midnight air.

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

Most people who’d been seduced, tied up and robbed would be humiliated, but not Yoongi. Rather, the only thing he held against his angel was that they’d left him. His wallet could be easily refilled, his jewellery and phone could be replaced, but ‘Angel’ was one of a kind and he wanted to have them.

He’d eventually managed to escape his bondage, tipping over the coffee table and sliding his hands out. Although he had to find one of the employees to help him out of the handcuffs, the embarrassment didn’t set in. Instead, he sought out one of the bouncers and pulled them to the side to ask if they’d seen someone called Angel. After nearly ten minutes of describing their ethereal appearance the bouncer was able to recall their existence, but unable to give Yoongi any more information.

But from that day forward, they had a stranglehold on his mind. His thoughts were overridden with fantasies of what could have happened if ‘Angel’ had stayed - them gripping his throat with those silky fingers, marking his neck with their teeth, unbuttoning his pants and taking him into their mouth…

They were addictive. He found himself trying his hardest to seek them out again - he knew she wouldn’t return to his father’s nightclub, so he explored every other one in the city. He’d scoured the CCTV cameras in the club and managed to find a (somewhat blurry) still, which he’d enhanced and printed out. Not only did he keep a copy to himself -  tucked away in his work diary so that he could see them every day - but he circulated it to all of the clubs he could reach, asking them to call him if they ever saw his angel for a handsome reward.

But months passed with no news, and rather than recovering Yoongi’s obsession only got worse. He spent hours futilely searching for the name they’d given him on the internet with no reward, but he couldn’t stop.

“Can I pay with cash, please?” Yoongi had been half-asleep, the night before having sapped him of all energy that could only be perked up with coffee, when he heard that voice. That unforgettable voice. The one that haunted his dreams every night and the one he’d been craving to hear.

“Of course. Could I have a name for your order?”

“(Y/N).” Yoongi’s heart sunk. Had he gotten his hopes up over the wrong person? Had he been so deluded in his desire for his angel that he’d started to hallucinate about them?

But when (Y/N) stepped to the side to wait for their coffee, he finally saw their profile and he knew they were the one who had captured his heart. That was why it had been impossible to find them, because they’d given him a fake name!

His heart was beating a thousand beats a second as he watched them take the coffee from the barista and flash the worker a smile whilst sliding them a tip. God, how he hoped he would soon be the recipient of one of those dazzling expressions.

All thoughts of caffeine were wiped out as he had now found his real drug, abandoning the queue to quietly follow them out of the cafe at a safe distance.

‘They haven’t changed at all. I guess you can’t improve on perfection.’

Yoongi admired them as she walked. They still had glowing skin, the most perfect body in his eyes, and an unmatched energy that drew him in.

It was tricky blended into the background, especially when the crowds thinned out and he was following them into a smaller neighbourhood. His heart was thudding, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to be caught or not. He didn’t know what was driving him to follow them and why he hadn’t already spoken up.

(Y/N) wasn’t stupid. They stopped in place to get out their phone and observed how the hooded man also stopped a few metres away.

“Stop following me or I’ll call the police.” They called out.

Yoongi took a few steps forward.

“What will they do? Give me a slap on the wrist for being a naughty boy?”

Their brow furrowed. Did they recognise his voice? God, he hoped that was the case. He was ready to get down on his knees and beg for their love.

“Whatever. Just leave me alone, freak.” They hissed, unlocking their phone to call their friend, so he could get them the hell out of there.

Starting to panic, he rushed forward and wrenched their phone out of their hands, throwing it to the ground and digging his heel into the screen for good measure. For a second, there was silence only permeated by Yoongi’s heavy breathing.

“Someone-!”

Their plea for help was cut off by his hand pressed against their mouth.

“Can we continue this conversation elsewhere? My hotel room, perhaps?”

The blush on this psycho’s cheeks as his hands grasped theirs sickened (Y/N) to no end. Did he think this was a normal way to hit on someone, by breaking their phone and kidnapping them?

“I’m not going anywhere-”

“I’ll call the chauffeur. Don’t worry, he won’t be long.”

(Y/N) was still trying to pry his fingers from their own, but they were like iron.

“Who the fuck are you?” They hissed.

“You don’t remember me?” His eyes were filled with hurt, and the hand clutching his phone was trembling as he held it to his ear, clearly following through on his words.

“Yoongi. You introduced yourself to me as Angel, I bought you a drink and we went into the private lounge for a chat?”

‘Shit.’

It clicked, (Y/N) knew exactly who he was. They’d made so much selling his one-of-a-kind Cartier watch that they’d been able to move cities and settle into a new profession entirely.

Most rich kids were ashamed when (Y/N) got the best of them, and few chased after them for revenge. But Yoongi had a different kind of fire in his eyes.

“Look, you can have all the money I have leftover you want? I swear, we can replace everything I took-”

“Oh no, it’s all yours, baby. I want you to have that, and so much more too.” Yoongi was way too calm, his smile way too sincere. He was absolutely off his rocker. “Anything you need to take from me, it’s yours. But I want something in return, you understand?”

(Y/N) felt a shiver go down their spine when a sleek black car, with tinted windows, drew up.

“Come on. You still have a lot to prove to me, right?”

Crossover Part 2

This idea was given to me by @bamboozled-boi. I hope you like this! Its only the start of something Spicy!

Characters from: Malion Series on Wattpad and Extraordinary

Characters: Cal, Taylor, Varitran, Kaylum and Anthony

This is in no way a part of the canon to either story. I wouldn't know where the logic would begin to connect these 2 universes seamlessly.

This is a very slow paced story because it's out of the point of view of someone who can live until he's 700 years old so just a warning!

Crossover: Infectious Magic Part 2

Cal's face fell into a frown. He looked at Taylor who shook her head.

"Don't you dare." She whispered to him.

"What else am I supposed to do? These people arent going to do anything to Earth. They don't have the means to get back like we do. We could just-"

"I'll have to stop you there, Cal." I growled, "You seem to be painfully unaware that I can hear better than those with your short, round ears. If it is a fight you wish to persue, I will fight to the death to defend those I care for." I glared at him, one of my shaking purple hands hovering over my medallion and swirling with deep violet and crimson magic. These Earthians would become corpses if they tried their hand in combat with me. I would make sure of that. To my surprise, his gaze softened. I furrowed my brows, confused.

"Oh... oh god, what was I thinking...?" Cal mumbled. Taylor turned to him and glared at him.

"Damn right 'What was I thinking'. They're sentient. They have relationships and family and feelings! They're like us but weirder!" Taylor started to glow, a certain unbridled fury in her gaze as she stared at Cal.

"He didn't mean that. He can get impatient quickly." She growled. I returned to my civil posture, keeping my hand wavering over my medallion.

"If you lie, I will not hesitate." I hissed.

"You're not like Lindsay, right? You can't read minds..." Cal mocked. I narrowed my eyes.

"I may not be able to read your thoughts, but you would certainly fear me if you read mine and knew how many lives I've taken." I growled.

"Oh..." Taylor started, surprised, "Oh." The determination in fer voice made Cal's eyes meet hers. They exchanged a nod.

"You yell at us that killing innocent people is not worth our cause, yet here you are openly admitting to have slaughtered tens of people." Taylor said, her eyes and fists beginning to glow a bright crimson.

"You would be surprised if you heard how many thoudands of horrid people no longer exist on Gaia, Taylor." I muttered. My skin took on a similar hue as Taylor's fists as a shield was cast around my body when I muttered the Osrocan word. She glared at me and threw a punch to the center of my chest. I was thrown back into the guards behind me, who caught me and allowed a swift recovery.

"The more you keep this up, the more I distrust you!" I growled as she threw punch after punch at my shield.

"Cal!" She yelled as bright silver clouds formed swirls in the sky as Cal's eyes went completely orange. As a bright orange bolt of lightning shot down and avoided Taylor completely, it broke through my barrier and obliterated one side of my torso. I let out a shriek and frantically whispered my healing word as I pushed my hand into the shredded mess that had become my lower abdomen. Taylor's fist pounded against my face. When she paused, I gasped and whispered a return. My mangled self appeared in the Braakshen ruins. The plaza was how The Huntress and I had left it not long ago. I spent far too long healing my wounds and being drained of power and energy. I wholly underestimated them...

When my energy had returned and I realised that the plague had made its way to my elbows, I returned to the castle, the cuts and wounds given to me by the Eartheans still raw, I lugged myself into the throne room and bowed before the Queen.

"Queen Malion..."

"Vari... What happened to you?" She asked, rushing off of the elevated throne and cradeling my face in one of her gloved hands.

"I failed you, my Queen. There are 2 beings from Earth that have come searching for Endoran Amethysts. They made an attempt on my life in order to retrieve what I would become. As a result..." I explained, revealing the increased and increasing height of the plague.

She pressed her forehead against mine and stood, extending a hand out to help me to my feet. I allowed a chuckle when she looked up at me, obviously forgetting how much taller than her I was. She was a bit shorter than shoulder height by a few centimeters. She gently took the few braids I had made on my way to Ramir. She ran her fingers from top to bottom only starting when my hair had faded from black to white. I didn't want to cut the black away... it was too much of a reminder to let go of.

"Nervous?"

"Too much so..." I admitted, "I thought they might relieve our efforts to find the cure. Head Scout Laidon figured they might have. It does not surprise me that his young soul did not think ahead." I muttered. The Queen gave me a scolding glare.

"Don't critizise him for something he can't help. You're nearly 300 anyway. Don't make such a fuss."

"I'm 252 years old, My Lady. I'm not 'nearly 300'. Far from it." I chuckled. She gave a smile then retreated back to the throne.

"Have you come up with a plan to deal with these people?" She asked. I nodded.

"It's taken me a few hours to recuperate after that attack. Long enough to come up with something decent." I muttered, "I should get going. I will be bringing Laidon with me. His staff holds immense power. He may be able to help me. Bringing one of the Gods is probably a bad idea. I wouldn't want to pull them away from their research." I explained. The Queen nodded.

"He's in the Barracks. He said he would be training. You'll be most likely to find Leutenant Martin with him too. His speed could come in handy." She suggested and I responded with a nod before using my return word to appear next to Kaylum as he struck a leather-bound training stand.

"Wah! Ugh - I mean- Good evening, Commander Hue." Kaylum said with a haphazard Orsocan greeting. I noticed Anthony's chuckle as he gave me a nod. I returned it and turned to face Kaylum, who had collected his staff and donned his helm after sweeping dark curls from his sweat misted face.

"Commander, What's the plan? I got your message." He said after giving Anthony a... specific glance I couldn't place the emotion of.

"Sir Martin, you and I will head to Ramir. They're probably heading for Karmaro right now. We'll take the portal there. Kaylum. How strong are you? Can you wraith with both of us?" I asked. He grinned and looped an arm around my legs, just below my ass and did the same with Anthony, carrying us in each arm. He managed to keep both of us up, despite my squirming and... admittedly terrified, high-pitched protesting. Both Anthony and Kaylum suppressed fits of laughter as I cleared my throat, having just been placed back onto the ground.

"Good.... please give me a warning next time you do that, Head Scout Laidon." I muttered, feeling my embarrassed redness fade to it's normal charamel colour as I turned away to collect myself.

"Please, when I do that, could you wrap your arms around Anthony's back and my waist when I sling you both over my shoulders? It just helps with the weight." I nodded and returned to the Castle. I had to prepare. I needed the shards with me.

I entered my quarters and locked the door behind me. I knew it was dangerous to have these on my person, but I needed some way to get ahead. I headed to the bookshelf and took out a book with a bland leather cover. The Secerets of Sorcery was its title. It was ironic... but it worked. I opened the book and found six shards. Two small red ones that looked nearly identical, two golden shards of similar size, both jagged and raw, one royal blue triangular shard that was speckled with sky blue and a perfectly cut black gem of similar size to the blue one. All of which were small. All of which had spots in my medallion. I opened the locket and placed them each in the openings one by one. When I closed the locket, I felt the heat from the new power through the gold and when I put it on, everything went black.

Part 3 coming soon

Something to make you feel better, @bamboozled-boi?

Still Good- Chapter 8

After spending too much time being a hero Paladin is picked to replace All Might at U.S.J. Of course something goes horribly wrong.

All Might x Reader (OC) 

Warnings: Blood / Gore / Major Injury. 

Paladin get’s a little wrecked here. It’s not showed HOW but the aftermath is explained in detail so....be warned. 

Being scolded wasn't the worst thing in the world. At least not when they angry little huffs of Paladin were directed at him over the hard smacks of her grandmothers cane to his side. Toshi was slumped over on one of the office cots trying his best to look remorseful for his actions that day. He was, really he was. He spent too much time assisting other hero's and helping civilians on his way to work that his time had all but run out and he could no longer power up. That meant hiding away in the teachers lounge or for now nurses office until he had regained some of his energy. He should have just left it to the pro's on duty at the time. It as all petty activity anyway nothing life threatening but old habits seemed to die hard. "I really should start treating you like Grandma and refusing to heal you after stunts like this. Honestly Toshinori....you were meant to take the students to U.S.J today." She was using his full name. Not good. But still....

Letting out a defeated sigh Toshi scratched his neck with worry. "You're right. Of course. I wasn't thinking." Now he had to sit here and be pathetic all day. Useless. The though washed over him like a wave of hard hitting self loathing. "I should be there to teach those kids and I'm stuck here just being a burden." His own tone shifted to a dark and depressing rumble. Shoving his face in his heads and gripping his forehead a bit too tightly as if punishing himself for it foolish actions. Only when a pair of soft warm hands covered his own did he at last let up. She didn't let go either and he found himself twisting his palms to grip her's carefully. Little moments like this were both trilling and terrifying to Toshi. Close, personal, physical contact with her sent a spark of joy down to his gut but bubbled back up as worry, doubt and nerves. But each time he powered through and forced himself to keep that contact for as long as possible. Her hand pressed against the side of his head, thumb brushing over the small red spot he created in his anger and soothed it away with that wonderful cool numbing of her quirk. They both watched each other for a moment. Happy to just be as close as they were. "You can stay here if you like...I'm sorry my healing won't help you recover any faster..."

Toshi sat up a bit straighter and waved his free hand at her frantically. "Oh no! None of this is you're fault please! I feel better already, just being able to breath again without the pain in my side is more than enough." His fingers twitched over her's and he graced her with a real smile this time. "Thank you...you have always-"

The sudden woosh of the office door snapped them both apart. As intrusions to their quiet personal moments seemed to do these days. How is it they always managed to get caught looking like anything but coworkers? Toshi cleared his throat for want of something better to do to clear his head and seem presentable to the fuzzy principal as he walked in, looking as cheery yet slightly unnerving as always.

"My my what ever will we do with you All Might?" Wonderful, someone else was here to remind him of his short comings. "Still there is no need to look so glum about it. While this is a turn in situation you can be sure the staff and UA can handle sudden unexpected alterations!" Carefully Mr. Principal climbed his little self up into the office chair. Settling in with a little wiggle. "No need to worry! None at all! You can rest and meet up with the class as soon as you are able."

That at least put Toshi in some kind of ease. The day wouldn't be a complete loss though this self hate was going to take some time to work out of his system he would feel far better as soon as he could rejoin the students and do his job properly. "I'm sorry to be such a burden sir..." his shoulders bowed low in both defeat and apology. The small click of the Principles tongue and his waving little paw caught Toshi off guard and he found himself shrinking back a bit.

"No need no need! We will be sending our dear school nurse in your place for now! If you ask me it may work out for the better! The students arn't used to such intense training and are bound to have a few more mishaps than here on campus. U.S.J really is a test of it's own the first time around."

Both Toshi and Paladin blinked, looking to each other and back to their boss in disbelief. "M-me sir?" her stutter would have been cute if it were any other situation. "But I'm not a teacher...I don't think I could be of any help to the students in this sort of situation. They need hero guidance and-" "Were you not a pro hero back in the states Paladin? If I recall you made quite the name for yourself too even without any offensive abilities. The students need a good well rounded education. All Might may be able to teach them how to punch their problems away but you can teach them to use their head. Practical first aid in rescue situations, even battle tactics beyond brute force. Many of the first years this time around have powerful but under utilized quirks that could benefit from a fighting style like yours."

The wave of sudden odd compliments had her blushing to her ears. Both her hands trying to cover her pink cheeks and Toshi felt his heart to a little flip he had to force himself to look back at the small white mammal that was their facility leader. "He does have a point. While you are the schools nurse you have some amazing knowledge to pass on to the students that may be invaluable. Not only would the students be safer but you could truly teach them a thing or two the pro hero teachers have no experience with." That got her flushing even more and the little smirk Toshi couldn't hide was going to get him in trouble. He coughed into his fist to keep attention away from his face. Paladin was giggling softly to herself, slowly working into a nervous chuckle. Her hand coming down to smack him hard on the back a few times. Punishment or embarrassment Toshi couldn't figure out. "You too knock it off! All these complements are going to go right to my head you should know better!"

Mr.Principal laughed along as well. "It's settled then! You shall follow the students to U.S.J for these specialized lessons. Of course All Might you'll join them as soon as you feel well enough again." Toshi gave him a nod once he was sitting upright again. His spirits lifted at least slightly now that there was a mild solution to his royal fuck up this morning. The pure excitement she seemed to feel over this chance to interact with the students almost made it all worth it. Almost. His gut still swirled with a sense of unease that he chalked up to his disappointment. This was fine. Everything would be fine.

Both of them watched at their boss hopped himself down off his seat. His large boots squeaking as he made his way to the door. "Once you two are done blushing at each other in privet we can expect our dear nurse to join class 1-A at the school gates in about ten minuets." That sent the two of them back into a sudden panic. Both talking over each other to try and explain themselves. Come up with some excuse, defense anything at all to cover the obvious. Another small tsk from the tiny creature shut them up quickly and they were forced to stand there, bright red and looking anywhere but at each other. "You humans always make things far more complicated for yourselves. Remember, ten minutes Miss.Paladin." with his final word said the door snapped shut and both staff members were left to heat the room with their awkward tension.

"I um-" "You'll-"

"O-oh sorry!" "N-no no you-"

"I was going to-" "I just-"

If the two of them could get anything right Toshi would honestly question reality. Their fumbling, stuttering and tripping had been a long time staple of their friendship by now and try as he might to correct it it seemed to hang over them like a dark yet oh so endearing cloud. She stood in front of him, chewing her lower lip and keeping her eyes locked on what was apparently a very interesting empty notebook on her desk. She was nervous. So was he. He always was around her. A ball of static nerves and twitching limbs trying his best to not act like an inexperienced man well past his prime. He was back to rubbing his lanky neck again. Waiting those few more beats until he was sure she wasn't going to talk before him. "I think you'll be great. Far better than me I'm sure. At teaching that is. At most things really..." The light ruffle of his hair caught him off guard. She was carefully smoothing out the wild tufts that he could never manage to tame. The act was so soothing, so soft he felt he could melt into her hand and stay there.

She gave him that smile he loved so much, warm and loving. Looking right past what he was and gripping his heart through his chest. "Thank you. Knowing someone like you believes in me...I don't know what I would do without you Toshi." Live a long, healthy and happy life with a young, capable man far better than himself. Reality always had a way of slapping him hard across the face. That itching self hate that was getting more persistent day by day. Even when she was so focused on him, her affection plain as day even for a man like himself he had to ruin it by beating himself down and out. Maybe if he just kept doing it he could put out this flame he carried for her. Sure...though each second that passed between them felt like a bucket of gas tossed on the damn thing. Paladin stood straight again, pumping her arm up slightly and giving him her best All Might thumbs up. "I'll whip those kids into shape no problem! Teach them what being a pro hero is all about! I'll make sure I'm their favorite teacher from now on got it?!" Her tongue peaked out from between her sweet pink lips as she teased him, turning on her heels to head out the door.

There was no stopping it. That bonfire in his chest that burned ever brighter when ever she walked into a room. The pain in his side, his mind and his heart slowly pushed to the dark background. That self hate, weakness and loneliness banished with her damned smile that was etched into his thoughts. She was his own Symbol of Peace. A quiet one meant only for him.

~~~

"That's All Might....."

"It's my first time seeing him in person!"

"He looks so intimidating..."

"Idiots! Don't hesitate! If we kill that, we'll-- Gah!"

This fight was nothing. All Might kept repeating that in his mind as he struck down the minor villains around him. As he scooped up Aizawa and the students. Even as blood ran down his chin in a steady river and leaked from the new wound in his side. He could ignore the pain, he could fight through it and win! That's who he was! What ever that creature had taken what little he had left in him but he had to keep standing. Had to keep fighting. Protect everyone. All but one.

Toshi had no idea what had happened even seconds before he made his appearance. He couldn't fathom how 13 and Aizawa had been taken down, but beyond that there was Paladin. The hero who could take any hit, any attack and get back up. Just a crumpled mess on the ground. Unmoving save for the small twitch of her fingers rippling the pool of blood under her. Her once pure white coat soaking that warm liquid that didn't seem to stop flowing from a wound somewhere on her. He couldn't see. Damn it he couldn't move! That man had her. White hair, crazy eyes and hands. His true hand had a grip on her arm, her skin chipping away like old rotting paint but the faint glow of her quirk he had become so familiar with was trying it's best to beat it back. But why wasn't she moving?! What was she still bleeding? Why wasn't her quirk working everywhere else?! So many questions raced through his mind muddied by the light hiss of his strength leaving him like the air from a punctured balloon he was desperately trying to keep closed.

"I get it...." The voice was raspy and sharp. It chilled Toshi to the bone. "She heals doesn't she? How useful for a nurse...that's why even my Nomu couldn't keep her down. Interesting...." "Damn it..." Toshi hissed low between clenched teeth, catching the villains attention. "Oh I get it, this one's a friend isn't she? Important to you....like my Nomu was important to me....." It was scary how quickly this boys tone could shift. Threatening and unhinged to almost lighthearted and soft. "She was annoying. Couldn't do much but kept getting back up. Kept 'fixing' herself...you hero's always putting yourselves in harms way for others. Pathetic. But look at her now."

Midoriya's shaking voice cut through his unnerving rambling. He must have know Toshi was at his limit by now. Only he knew the real danger in front of them. "She....she got knocked out. I think she activated her quirk just before the last blow but it's trying to heal his quirks damage so it can focus on the rest of her body...he's doing too much damage too quickly for her to keep up. If we don't get him off her soon...."

It was a standstill for now. All parties stuck in place almost afraid to move. All Might couldn't. He could feel his form slipping bellow the rising smoke and dust he had kicked up. It was all he could to to appear a threat to them down. Standing still was almost too much. "But she's not what we want.....is she? But watching you squirm like that is justice for my Nomu.....revenge!" His grip on her arm seemed to increase and Toshi could hear the bone start to crack with the pressure of it. He needed to do something! Needed to act! Draw him away from her! "What if I grabbed her neck.....?" His free hand reached slowly, twitching it's long fingers as the teasingly made their way around her throat. One pinky held high but the pressure he applied forced an unwilling cough from Paladin that bubbled blood past her lips and down her cheeks. "Killed her in front of you...would that make you...angry All Might?"

"I'm sure we'd all like to end this as soon as possible."

The calm in his voice seemed to set this villain off. His wild eyes shaking behind the hand on his face. "You cheated...." Toshi could just make out his raspy whisper. "You used a cheat!" It was enough, he stood with Paladins arm still held tight in his grasp. Their quirks still battling for control of her body. "You're not any weaker at all!" It was like a child throwing a tantrum. The sight chilled Toshi as watch Paladin's limp body finally hit the ground with a disgusting, broken sound. Her quirk able to win out and heal the cracking skin and muscle of her arm....but it stopped. It wasn't moving to her side, head and legs. She couldn't direct it while she was unconscious! All Might had to end this and quickly!  "Did that guy lie to me......?" The wicked sound of dull nails on rough skin was all Toshi could hear as he eyed down the villain who was nervously scratching his neck in what looked like a panic attack.

"What's wrong......you're not coming?" He taunted. Draw him in. Buy more time. The teachers would be there soon. "You said you'd 'clearl' this or something, right? Come and get me if you can." This was all he could do. All he could think of. If he could muster up one solid punch then maybe.

The sudden rush of white and purple coming at him almost looked like a sloppy blur. "This is for my Nomu!!!" He was really going to rush him? This kid was going to rush All Might? Did he know he was at his limit? Guess that he hardly had any strength left in him? No....he was unhinged. Rushing blindly forward in a fit of rage. This was a level of dangerous that Toshi hadn't seen in a long time. 'Jeez....holy shit....' He stood his ground, tried his best to plant his feet. He had to do this! The blur of purple caught his attention but he hardly had the strength to move his head. Both of them were coming at him at such speed. 'Hurry!....Everyone hurry!' His only hope were the other teachers now, but as the villains inched closer his faith in that was growing dimmer. There was nothing the Symbol of Peace could do.

"Get away from All Might!"

Midoriya. All Might hadn't even seen him move. He was just there aiming a punch at the void villain. Shouting as loud as he could to draw as much attention as possible. Toshi wanted to stop him. Wanting to grab him and throw him out of harms way but he was stuck, Midoriya was too fast and the villains were already in a counter "I won't fall for that again!". The white one's hand warped through the purple and aimed itself at his face. Toshi watched hopelessly as the ring of the villains horrible cracking laugh drowned out all other sound around them...except the sudden gun shot. A bullet hitting that horrible hand and knocking it away from the students face. Midoriya crumpled to the ground unable to catch himself on broken legs. "Are they here?"

More gun shots and sudden muttering. The villains in a panic as the ran this way and that trying to assess the new situation. All Might could hardly see what was going on. Still rooted to the spot he tried his best to twist himself to the entrance, catching the dark silhouette of his fellow teachers making their way inside. 'Finally.....finally!'

"Sorry Everyone!" The Principles rather chipper voice echoed through the large arena. "Sorry we're late! I gathered all who were immediately available." "I, Tenya Iida, class 1-A representative, have now returned!' There was more shouting, more fighting. Present Mic's loud yell pierced through it all for a few seconds. Toshi could make out the gun fire, Ecto's clones were rushing through the groups of villains that were trying to scatter or put up a last final defense. Midnight's hazy pink mist was floating through the frosted area to his left. Everything was going to be fine. There was no way any of these second rate villains could stand up to this many pro hero's. "It's game over now....." That kids voice cut through the fighting and noise around them. He was backing up, retreating into his strange partners purple portal like body. "Shall we go home...and try again later, Kurogir--?" Bullets riddled his body. Knocking him to the ground as they ripped through his legs, his partner quick to cover him at absorb as much of the spray as he could. But even that was countered as the gust of pulling wind started to drag the strange quirk user up. 13 was alive and drawing them in even from that distance! They had no choice, either be captured or leave.

"You may have one this time....." That wild red eye was fixed on Toshi as the pair were being dragged upward. Sinking back into the inky purple of his personal portal he was still threatening. "....but I will kill you next time.....Symbol of Peace, All Might!" The silence they left in their wake was unnerving. Cut only by young Midoriya's struggled whimpering.

He tried to pull himself up. His legs far to damaged to move on their own. "I'm sorry....I'm sorry I tried to protect her...and I couldn't save you again. I failed again!" His gloved fingers gripped into the dirt as he tried to drag himself forward even a few inches. Still trying to stand. Toshi let out a soft sigh, blood spraying from his lips with the effort. "That's not true...you bought me a few valuable seconds...with you I would be dead. Young Midoriya you saved me once again." This quiet moment of reflection between the two of them was short lived yet heart felt. His student was alright, the villains were gone. And even in his misshaped half form he could say he was standing. Still that dark gut-wrenching feeling crawled up his spine as he remembered the blooded mess that was just a few feet from them.

"Midoriya hey!" A new voice cut through the quiet just as All Might was about to move from his cover in the drifting dust and smoke. Kirashima was racing forward towards his friend as as much as it warmed him to see how much the young boy cared for his classmates at this rate he would be caught. It was like he was trapped all over again. He couldn't hear what the two young boys were saying to eachother, though he did catch young Midoriya's panicked face as he seemed to try and dismay his friend from coming any closer. He needed to move damn it! Needed to get to Paladin! The sudden wall of earth shot up between them. Cementoss's voice muffled by the buffer but it seemed to do the trick and sent the red haired boy running off in a different direction. Even if it wasn't full cover, even if he stood the chance of being seen Toshi forced himself forward. Past his young student he stumbled over to the broken body that had been tossed aside so carelessly.

Sinking to his knees his shaking arms wrapped themselves around his body. Pulling her up against him to try and shake some life into her. His voice wasn't working....why wasn't his damn voice working?! His bright eyes moved across her body trying to figure out where the damage was. To his dismay it was everywhere. Her head was bleeding somewhere past her hairline, enough to coat almost the whole left side of her face in blood. Her lip was split, it looked like her cheek may have been broken. Her throat was red and bruising. He couldn't see the damage to the rest of her clothed body but the spots of blood that pooled up against the fabric of her coat was telling enough. A thin metal rot, most likely the framework of some nearby dumby building was to his horror jutting out from her right side. His hand hovered over that spot, trembling. As if he could will the wound away. His only solace was the faint glow of her quirk shining off the piercing metal. She was trying, at least her body was trying it's best to heal what it could. "Damn it.........damn it!" His fingers ripped into the dirt under her with such force he was sure his own nails were splitting. He couldn't save her. Couldn't stop this from happening. It was his fault, he used up his power this morning, he was why she was here in the first place. It was all him. In some in directed way Toshinori honestly believed he had done this to her.

"....she was trying to protect us. From that creature..." Cementoss had young Midoriya in his large arms. Ready to carry him to the rest of the teachers. "She told me about her quirk that day in the nurses office. If she's knocked out she can't heal properly...it's slower....sometimes it doesn't even work at all." Toshi brushed some hair from her face as carefully as he could. His fingers hovered over her lips to catch the soft warm air. She was breathing. Thank god she was breathing. "But that villains quirk was too fast for her. She had to focus on fighting it back and not healing her other injury's. If she didn't do that I think it would have just kept eating away at her. She knew that so she sacrificed the rest of her body to keep it at bay." He was right, her right arm was untouched, almost too clean and perfect next to the rest of her mangled body. Toshi adjusted her slightly so he could stand with her, but in doing so shifted himself enough to see the blood soaked hand that supported most of her body. A hot rage filled him, rushing through his veins, ignoring the crippling pain of his left side. The urge to scream, lash out, track down those villains and rip them apart with his bare hands was a new sensation for him. Not totally. He remembered it once before so many years ago. But it crept back up through him like a snake. Coiling around his heart and planting itself there.

He had promised himself that this exact thing would never happen. He would never see her like this again after that night on the train. He swore to protect her yet here he was. Carrying her broken little body out of the ruined arena. That hate twisted his gut as he carefully places her on the awaiting stretcher, he climbed in behind them and no one seemed to have the guts to tell him otherwise. Not with that look on his face. The look that dared anyone to so much as speak to him. One person did however, a second body climbed into the back of the ambulance with them. Both tried to make themselves small as the EMT set to work trying to stabilize his new patient.

Tsukauchi let out a huff. "I won't ask why you're back here..." He got no response, and honestly didn't expect to. His friends eyes were glues the injured woman and he clearly wasn't going to look away any time soon. "They are heading back to UA. Recovery girl is already expecting her. We made the call when you came walking out with her a minuet ago." Toshi gave a weak nod, that was all he was going to get for now. "....She'll be okay. From what you've told the second she wakes up she'll put herself back together and be scolding you for worrying so much." It was true, Toshi has confided in his friend more than once since his odd friendship with Paladin had started. He was the only other person Toshi could truly call a 'friend' and someone far more experienced in social matters. He felt a hand give him a soft pat on the shoulder and that was enough for him to turn and give the worlds weakest, most tired smile he could. "I mean it. She's going to be real mad at you if she wakes up to that face."

He was right but Toshi couldn't help it. His heart hurt so damn much. It was battling between a flaring haterade and anger, fear, grief....self loathing. He watched as his friend hopped out of the back letting the doors close behind him. He tried to let his words sooth him, just a bit. It wasn't working well but it let his shoulders relax and his hands unclench from their shaking grip. "She's stable for now...." The EMT's voice was a little unsure, he didn't know why this strange beat up looking skeleton of a man was sitting in the back with them on their way to UA but much like everyone else he feared questioning it. And if the detective seemed fine with it he wouldn't bother. "We'll be back at UA soon."

It couldn't be soon enough.

Just Another Secretary Story - Chapter 1 - For the first time in nine years

Summary: Todoroki Shouto is the young hotshot executive of Endeavor, Inc, talented in many ways but clueless in plenty of aspects outside of work. Uraraka Ochako is his reliable secretary for the past nine years--driven, hardworking, never complaining, a perfect subordinate who does all of his bidding without question. They have a perfect, harmonious relationship together-- that is, until the night Secretary Uraraka tells him, "I'd like to quit my job."

Rating: T

[for safri -- happy birthday! I know it’s been a while since I wrote something so I might be rusty, but I sure hope you still enjoy this.]

Secretary Uraraka Ochako, 29 years old, single, finds herself at the home of award-winning actress Yaoyorozu Momo. She has a bouquet of yellow roses in her arms and a smile that tries its best to deny her pollen allergies.

It’s not the best place in the world, but this isn’t the worst thing she’s had to do all week.

Yaomomo, as her fans and stans have affectionately named her, gives her that award-winning smile and a curious tilt of the head. “Uraraka-san! What a pleasant surprise! What brings you here all across town? And all by yourself?”

Ochako gives her the sunniest smile she can muster as the actress relieves her of the armful of allergens, thanking all the gods that she hasn’t sneezed her soul out all over the celebrity. “Director Todoroki is otherwise occupied at the moment. However, he did not want to miss the opportunity to be the first to greet you on your recent best actress nomination, so he sent me here for a visit.”

“Is that so?” Momo regards the bouquet with grace, slender fingers picking up the greeting card within it. “And this is from Shouto too, I suppose.”

“Yes ma’am,” Ochako says, as Momo reads the message within the card. You are a beautiful person inside out. Congratulations. S.T. A very personal message, one that Ochako had deliberated upon and hand-wrote carefully on the ride to the agency.

“That’s sweet of you,” Momo says with a serene smile. Putting down the bouquet next to her, she looks at Ochako with a knowing raise of one perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “You have something else to say.”

Ochako exhales slowly and gives an executive sort of nod. “Yes, ma’am. Unfortunately.”

She pauses to give the actress a moment to brace herself, yet Momo seems more than prepared for this moment as she only motions for her to continue. Well, if she is that prepared, at least they won’t be wasting any more time. Without the smile wavering from her face, Ochako announces, “While it pains him to do so, Director Todoroki would like to inform you that he cannot see you anymore. He wishes you all the best in your future aspirations.”

She says all of this in a polite, even tone, akin to how one would give a performance report at a business meeting. Funnily enough, Momo listens to her as if she were in the same meeting too--merely an executive at the other end of the table, keeping her composure despite news of her investments dropping in value.

“Is that so,” Momo says after a beat of silence. Inhaling quietly, no doubt counting one to ten in her head, she shakes her head and gives another smile, albeit a pained one. Yet, too graceful than the situation deserved. “Thank you for going all this way to tell me this, Uraraka-san.”

This isn’t the first time Ochako had to do this. After all, it has been exactly thirty days since Yaomomo and Todoroki Shouto, the young Executive Director of Endeavor Inc., started officially dating. Thirty days of going out in formal events and stuffy parties, smiling politely for the cameras and answering insipid questions about their relationship for the magazines, dealing with paparazzi and the unsavory showbiz rumor mill.

It has also been thirty days of Director Todoroki subtly pushing Momo’s hands off of his arm as soon as the cameras are away, and thirty days of Ochako buying the actress jewelry on behalf of her boss and his credit card to keep her happy.

Ochako came prepared for the worst. She’d had to deal with meltdowns and insults and threats to her employer’s good name. All things considered, Yaoyorozu Momo simply removing the 18-karat white gold diamond encrusted necklace that Director Todoroki gave her during the last awards ceremony is one of the most elegant ways to handle rejection that Ochako has ever seen.

“All in all, I expected this,” the actress tells her in a careful tone. “It must have been a bad sign that it was our fathers who pushed us into this relationship. I wonder if I could have done more to keep him interested, though.”

Dammit, she’s too good for this. Ochako finds herself wondering if she could have done more to convince Director Todoroki to think about this further. Then again, it isn’t worth the argument. Her boss has always insisted that relationships are a distraction from his work, and simply an inefficient way to spend his time.

Ochako smiles at her, sincerely this time. “Yaoyorozu-san, it isn’t you. Simply put, he’s a brat. You gave him more patience than he deserved.”

“You shouldn’t say things like that about your boss,” Momo says, with a laugh. “Still, I wondered if I gave it enough time, I could have melted that icy barrier he seems to always have around him, Uraraka-san.”

“Maybe,” Ochako says, probably much more honest than what is appropriate, “but take it from someone who’s had to work for him for as long as I have. You really don’t want to see past his ‘cool exterior’.”

Director Todoroki is famous for more than just his intelligence, finesse, and keen business sense. His icy exterior, paired with that beautiful face, gets a lot of people hoping to be the one to melt it. It seems that not even Yaomomo is immune to that sort of fantasy. Yet Ochako knows that behind that pretty face is a twenty-nine year old child who’d probably die immediately once left alone. Whether it’s through a traffic accident from seeing a cat in the streets, malnutrition from eating nothing but cold soba, or dying simply to spite his father.

The Director is blissfully unaware of his inability to function like a sensible adult, however (case in point, this situation right here). Ochako’s full time job doesn’t even give her the luxury to pretend like he is.

Momo gives an affirmative sound. Her hand cups the contour of her perfectly symmetrical face in interest. “That’s right. You’ve been his secretary for… five years?”

“Nine years,” Ochako answers, suppressing a sigh. “Yaoyorozu-san, you are easily my favorite among all the people he’s had to date, so I hope you trust me when I say that you dodged a bullet. I worked for him for a long time, and I’ve never ever seen him take anyone seriously. You also know how he gets about people touching him. Plus all he thinks about at any given point in time are one of the three things: work, work, and work, so I don’t think a relationship with him would be good for anyone.”

Well, he also thinks a lot about his snobby cat, Victoria. Oh, and tormenting Ochako with care of said cat.

Momo hums, dark eyes perusing her carefully. “He does seem to only care about work and not much else. But you touch him quite frequently, don’t you, Uraraka-san?”

Ochako blinks once, and shakes her head. “Me? Not at all.”

The actress smiles at her patiently. “But you do. And when we’re together for our dates, he speaks to you more than he does to me.”

Chasing after the absent-minded Director with a lint roller for his suit, frequently readjusting his tie for him, and doing every single one of his biddings don’t count. Ochako laughs awkwardly. “Well, he doesn’t see me as a person, much less a woman. So you don’t have to worry about that.”

It definitely isn’t the first time that Ochako has been accused of having an affair with her boss. She hopes she doesn’t have to defend herself in front of Yaomomo. She’s just sick of all the jealousy for ‘monopolizing’ Director Todoroki’s attention. Ah, if only they knew.

Thankfully, the actress does not pursue the topic any further. “Thank you for your courtesy, Uraraka-san. I wish the same for Shouto… I mean, the Director,” she says, and adds after a thoughtful pause, “... and you. The two of you.”

The knowing smile remains on her mouth. Ochako only returns this with her most professional smile and bids her farewell.

Well, Yaomomo might have meant something entirely different with her words, but with what Ochako is about to do that evening, she could use all the well-wishes she can get.

“At the end of the day, nine years is just nine years,” she mumbles to herself, as she takes a taxi back to the Endeavor Towers at the center of the city.

*

Director Todoroki Shouto, 29 years old, single, is one of the youngest major executives of Endeavor Inc, one of the biggest conglomerates in Japan. It’s not as impressive as it sounds since he’s also the fourth child of Todoroki Enji, the man who owns it, but he’s earning his rep as much as he can.

He begins a typical productive day waking up in the penthouse of Endeavor Towers. It’s a lot smaller than his own space in the family estate, but it’s only a few floors above where he works all day so it’s pretty convenient. Also, he has total control of the security there and only allows a handful of people in--his bodyguard/chauffeur Shoji, his personal chef Sato, Midoriya (but only if there’s work to be done), and of course, Secretary Uraraka, who is required to be there the moment he wakes up. Having his privacy is great, and not having that annoying old man there makes it a hundred times better.

If he didn’t entrust Victoria in Secretary Uraraka’s care for any reason, the British Shorthair would be gently tapping his face with her royal paw at around six in the morning. He gets up, brush his teeth, and then take a shower infused with vitamins and minerals designed to give him energy. He spends twenty minutes eating breakfast cooked by Sato and dresses up for work afterward.

Having been there since five in the morning, Secretary Uraraka meets him in his dressing room, ready with her choice of his clothing for the day. In that particular morning, she chose midnight blue and grey. “I deemed this appropriate for the conservative group we are meeting today at nine,” she says, tying a Windsor knot around his neck with ease. “We are expecting a long day. Will you take any caffeine today?”

“Ristretto, exactly 2.5 fluid ounces, 87 degrees centigrade, no sugar.”

Uraraka nods, signalling Sato behind them, mouthing demitasse as she is supposed to. “And about Yaoyorozu Momo—“

“Yes, I’m aware of the upcoming Daytime Drama Awards,” he says with a huff. “Best actress and Best Onstage Kiss, right? As well as Best Ensemble Cast for their performance in The Goddess of Creation--”

Uraraka gives him her standard customer service smile. Her eyes flash meaningfully as she says,“That, and her birthday is coming up. Will you give her anything?”

Shouto keeps himself from muttering under his breath. Shit, he almost forgot. “Just the yellow roses. Don’t mention her birthday.”

Just the yellow roses, meaning it’s time to let her go.

Secretary Uraraka blinks, eyes flashing again, but her smile does not waver as she gives a half-bow. “Understood.”

It’s been a month or so since he appeared in public with Yaoyorozu. Endeavor has been pushy about him seeing her, given her looks, talent, and old money background. He would have refused to do it, except that Yaoyorozu was a decent person from University and he didn’t want to make things difficult with her and her own pushy parents.

But she won’t make his work any easier, and she deserved better. He supposes this is an acceptable time to end things amicably. Well, as amicably as a break-up via proxy can get.

They make their way to work down the elevator to the main building, with Uraraka listing their daily agenda from her neat plastic file folder. An array of salarymen and women whose names he can’t quite recall bow to him all the way to his office. When he makes it to his desk with a view of the city, the priority documents are already arranged neatly in front of his seat, 5 cm away from the edge as is his preference.

“All right. Let’s get to work,” Shouto says, twisting his wrists in anticipation.

“Yes, Director.” Uraraka does that polished half-bow again and takes her place beyond the glass doors of his office.

When she leaves, he easily goes into the rhythm of office work. It gets dull from time to time, and when his eyes wander, he sees her with her eyes focused on her desktop computer, no doubt working on the next project proposal.

Efficient, accomplished, no complaints. The sight of someone working hard to keep up with him fills him with determination.

The rest of the day is a whirlwind of activities—an executive meeting with the board, another meeting with the legal office, a teleconference with their associates from India. He only remembers to eat lunch when Uraraka gets back from her assignment at Yaoyorozu’s and reminds him to eat the vegetables that Chef Sato prepared along with his soba. And then it’s more paperwork and meetings, and then evening comes and they both have to rush to a social event.

Shouto goes back to his penthouse, spends about an hour playing with Victoria, grooms himself and changes into a tuxedo. When he’s done, Uraraka meets him at the lobby. She’s garbed in something made of pink chiffon the same shade as her round cheeks, with just enough jewelry to make her look acceptable in this group of socialites without being too overboard.

“The Milan group will be arriving at the M hotel fundraiser in approximately twenty-eight minutes,” Uraraka tells him, her pink-padded fingers flying up to his bow tie in efficient movements.

“Let Midoriya entertain them first. We shouldn’t take too long, though,” Shouto says, as Uraraka straightens out his collar and wipes his shoulders free of any micro-creases that her laser eyes may have detected.

The quiet Shoji takes them to the event after that. The drive takes them twenty-nine minutes instead of twenty due to traffic, probably longer if Uraraka hadn’t navigated them through the side streets. It’s good that she’s there to get them out of the imminent gridlock. He supposed the fact that she commutes daily to work is useful in situations like this.

Eventually they make it to the ostentatious lobby of the hotel, where the equally ostentatious fundraiser is being held. Shouto knows that a famous celebrity photographer called Spiral is auctioning off his photos, and that all proceeds are going to go into educating orphans or something. He supposes he should care more about orphans--orphans are always a good cause to support, even though his last brush with orphans earned him the unsavory title of five pee-pee man--but right now all he is concerned about is that Milan group lurking in the shadows, waiting for him to find them.

And he didn’t mean to steal everyone’s attention away from the auction, but it isn’t his fault that he’s so eye-catching. With his heterochromatic eyes and hair and the scar and all. If it were up to him he’d get rid of the red, scarred half of his body, but then again his most important business partners tend to look for any signs of Todoroki Enji in him, so he can’t do that just yet.

Holding on to his right arm, Uraraka subtly pulls him toward a certain direction away from a flock of women looking his way. “I can see Chief Midoriya over there.”

They begin to approach the mess of green hair at the other end of the ballroom. He seems to be doing a decent job entertaining them with tales about his idol, Governor Yagi (which is the usual Midoriya fare). Or at least, the polite Italians seem to be doing a good job of listening to his impassioned speech.

In any case, when Uraraka clears her throat behind him, Midoriya turns his freckled face and gives them a large, sunny smile. “Oh! And here’s the Director, just in time!”

“Buona sera,” Shouto greets the guests with a smile of his own. “I hope you weren’t waiting for too long,” he says in fluent Italian.

“Not at all,” the leader tells him, and proceeds in various small talk about how they love the city, the food, the women, etcetera. It’s all small talk that he’s able to respond to flawlessly, yet Shouto notices the way they eye Secretary Uraraka at this last part, which gives him pause. One of them says something in Italian about her alluring looks, and asking her candidly if he can get her a drink.

Unfazed, Uraraka merely smiles and tucks a bit of her auburn hair behind her left ear. Somehow the man steps back, takes a good look at Shouto’s stare, and says nothing more.

“If you don’t mind,” Shouto tells them, after adjusting the sudden harshness of his tone, “let’s talk about partnership.”

It can’t exactly be called a business meeting since all of it is informal, yet it’s equally important all the same. As bothersome as socializing is, it’s important to impress investors with more than just numbers and data. All in all It is an easy and straightforward conversation, and Shouto managed to get their confidence in their business partnership without much trouble. After a toast and a round of handshakes, Shouto allows them to have their fill of the rest of the party while he retreats to his own company.

“That went smoothly,” Midoriya tells him with a congratulatory pat on his back. “Congrats on getting them to say yes. They’re notoriously hard to deal with, but also notoriously loyal.”

“Of course,” he replies with a sip of his whisky. Shouto wasn’t expecting any other answer than yes. He knows he’s that good.

“Gotta say, I was a little worried for you back there,” the green-haired Chief says. “You seemed close to losing your temper.”

Shouto gives him a bored stare. “You must be mistaken.”

Midoriya laughs and glances at Secretary Uraraka’s direction. “Maybe I was.”

Oh, speaking of which. “Uraraka, I didn’t know you knew Italian.”

Uraraka gives him a bright smile. “Apart from the types of pasta, I don’t know a word of Italian.”

“But you understood that that person was offering you a drink.” He wouldn’t have minded the flirting in an ordinary setting, but it’s a waste of time in this one. It’s a relief that he didn’t have to deal with it during the conversation.

She shrugs. “It’s obvious he was flirting. Even if I don’t really get what’s going on, all I have to do is this.”

She tucks her hair behind her ear again, much the same way she did before. Shouto wonders what her white sapphire earrings have to do with anything, until Midoriya laughs at her in awe. “Hey, now when did you get married, Uraraka-san?”

There’s a silver band on her ring finger, with obvious fake diamonds on them that she shows off with pride. “Since I won this at company day last year. It’s saved me a lot of trouble in the past.”

“Wow, you’re really ready for everything, aren’t you?” Midoriya says with a dreamy sigh. “No offense to Secretary Hagakure, since she’s pretty great too, but I’m so jealous of the Director for having a secretary like you! You’re like, a whole other level of efficient.”

Of all the things to be jealous of, Midoriya picks his secretary. What then about his skills and unparalleled genius in business? Shouto doesn’t hide his offense at that.

“Oh, don’t worry director, you’re pretty good at that too. No question,” the green-haired executive says with a bright smile. “You’ll be CEO in no time. I’m sure of it.”

It’s mere flattery if it came from anybody else but Midoriya, who has been by his side since business school. He accepts the compliment.

So the night wears on. Shouto poses for a few more pictures, talks to as few people as possible (which is still a lot--politicians, celebrities, models who want his attention and who are good potential business partners), and excuses himself when the threshold for politeness has been reached. Shoji comes to pick him and Uraraka up, and he collapses at the back of the limo feeling pretty pleased with himself.

“That went well,” he tells her as he pulls off the bowtie and allows himself to breathe properly. His voice is a little sore from talking too much, but it’s all worth it in the end.

“Agreed, Director,” Uraraka says with a nod. “You were exceptional in dealing with everyone tonight. I’m sure this will be good for the company.”

“Objectively speaking, yes, I was good.” He really is getting better at talking to people and sealing deals, so he’s proud of himself. “You did well too, Uraraka.”

She gives a cheery smile. “No, I could have done better. As you said, I need more accent training for my English.”

It’s a minor detail, pronouncing ‘business’ as bijiness, but Shouto is a stickler for details and perfection and Uraraka needs to address that problem. Still, if he had to rate her performance tonight it’d be a good solid 98.65%, which is pretty impressive for a high stakes event such as this.

Feeling very generous, he tells her, “Since you did a great job tonight, I can give you one thing you want. Anything at all.”

Uraraka looks up at him in mild surprise. “Anything?”

Shouto nods, even gives her that little smile that women like, for some reason. “Just say the word.”

He wonders how she can make her eyes sparkle like that, when they’re brown like chocolate and there’s only the city lights rushing past them to give her any light. Still, she continues to glow, her pink cheeks lighting up impossibly, pink-padded fingers tapping her chin in excitement.

It’s only out of pure impulse that Shouto said anything like that at all, but there’s a second between one heartbeat and the next when he’s sure he really will give her anything she wants. A new car, a new apartment, a new wardrobe, a better ring for her finger that isn’t as cheap as the one she’s wearing now. Heck, if she asked for it, he’d be willing to even give her a day off. And he’d pay for whatever it is that his secretary wants to do in her spare time. All she has to do is say the word, and--

“I’ve decided,” she says, after a moment. “Director Todoroki,”

Shouto nods, readying his mouth to say done,

“I’d like to quit my job.”

His heart pauses again, for an entirely different reason.

Quit her job? This job? Maybe she has some other job, even though it’s a breach of her contract to work part-time, but that’s the only thing that makes sense.

“I’d like to quit being your secretary,” Uraraka repeats with a patient smile.

The city lights blur behind her head, giving him a quick bout of nausea. An unnamed emotion rises to the back of his throat like bile, irrational and unpleasant, one that he refuses to let win.

“Okay. Done.”

She smiles at him and bows her head. Her hands come up to her chest as she gives another half-bow. “Thank you very much, Director.”

Shouto tries not to show an ounce of hesitation when he asks, “May I ask why you’re quitting?”

“Personal reasons,” she answers easily, and adds nothing more.

It’s nice, brief, and acceptable, just how Shouto likes his answers, but not this situation. For the first time in a long time, he’d like to hear her excuses, apologies, inane reasoning. Anything to make her decision make sense. Anything to make sense of the whirl of unpleasant feelings at the pit of his stomach.

But Uraraka remains silent, eyes staring straight ahead, with no indication of regret or remorse over her words. There’s a smile on her face too, one that’s too relieved for what she has just said.

For the first time in nine years, Shouto wonders if the smile he knows is merely a mask after all.

Anniversary

Masterlist in bio! 

A/N: Hello! This is my entry for @thorsthot 2.5k writing challenge! My prompt was “till death do us part.” Since this is my first time writing and posting something on tumblr (and my first time writing Thor), I’m gonna tag all the other beautiful people who are part of the challenge to try to get a bit more exposure. Italics are flashbacks.

Summary: Thor celebrates his anniversary with his wife. 

Word count: 3k

Warning: Mention of sex, sad Thor, uh, might cause existential crisis that we all grow old and eventually die? 

A stream of light filled their bedchamber. The curtains were drawn but the powerful sun found a way to enter from the small crack between the two large red drapes. This caused him to stir, allowing him to wake up before his sleeping wife. His first stop, as per his normal morning routine, was for the shower to prepare for the day. Except this wasn’t just a normal day: this was his anniversary. He knew he had to make this one special fore he did not know how many he would have left.

He did his research on Midgardian proposals very thoroughly. He knew he should be wearing something nice, he should take her somewhere romantic, he needed a ring made of diamonds (why Midgardians would choose such a worthless stone was beyond him), and he needed to get down on one knee when asking and presenting said ring.

He had taken her to the royal gardens. Most of the flowers were in bloom. He knew she loved looking at all their bright colors, so many more shades than she saw on Earth. And the smells were much more enchanting. This was one of her favorite places to be on calm days. Wandering the endless isles of flower upon flower, taking in their sight and smell. She was fond of reading amongst the foliage as well.

He made sure to wear his formal clothing and pin his hair back from his eyes. The small ring box was tucked into his breast pocket, ready to be pulled out at a moments notice.

When he found the timing to be right, he got down on one knee. He pulled out the box and presented her with the diamond ring, asking for her hand in marriage.

And she said no.

“I’m sorry, Thor, I…I can’t.” She took a small step back as he rose up from his one knee stance.  He looked at her with a mix of confusion and hurt. Had he misread her signs? Sure, they had only been dating ten months, but he knew she was the one for him. From the way she talked and acted, he thought she felt the same way. They had spoken of marriage before, did she not take it as seriously as he did?

“Y/N…I just don’t understand.” He reached out for her hand, but she pulled away. “Did I do something wrong? Is this too soon?”

“No, Thor, it’s not that,” she whispered. “I love you. Truly, I do,” she said. She looked up into his eyes, tears forming as she spoke, “You know what marriage means right? For better or for worse. Till death do us part.”

Now he was even more confused. “That is why I am asking you to marry me. I want to spend eternity with you.” Did Midgardian marriage mean something different than Asgardian that he was unaware of?

“That’s the problem.” She started pacing as she continued, “Those are two different eternities. My life is going to be significantly shorter than yours. I can’t ask you to do that. I can’t ask you to pledge yourself to me when I’m going to grow old and die so much sooner than you are.”

He finished his shower and dressed, spending extra time on his outfit and hair. He wanted to look nice for such a special day though he doubted his wife would notice. But that didn’t matter to him. She was his sun, his moon, his world. She deserved a husband who would try with all his might, no matter what.

Once he was happy with his appearance he entered their bedroom and checked on her. She was still sleeping. A small, sad smile formed on his lips. He missed waking up to her. How she would pepper his face with kisses until he finally opened his eyes. How she would giggle when he would groan, wanting five more minutes of sleep. Only sometimes would she give it to him. Now she spent most of her day sleeping, exerting very little energy.

“My darling,” he tried, “that does not matter to me.”

“Not now,” she snapped back. “Not while I’m still young and attractive. I’ll grow old. I’ll look old. And maybe sooner rather than later. Within the next fifteen, maybe even ten years, I’ll get wrinkles here,“ she pointed to where her smile would always reach when she was happy, “and here,“ she pointed to where her eyes would crinkle with glee, “and here,“ she pointed to where her forehead would crease when she was deep in thought. She sat down on the ground and curled her legs to her, hugging them tightly.

He sat down next to her. He put the ring into his pocket and put his arm around her, bringing her close to him. “You’ll always look like a Goddess to me, my love.”

He pulled the drapes open to fully let in the bright Asgardian sun. It illuminated her sleeping form, lighting up all the wrinkles she predicted she would get. He found they added to her inherent beauty and he stood for a moment, admiring her.

A soft knock came from their door, causing him to break his gaze from his sleeping queen. He took a few large steps towards the door, quickly reaching it. Grabbing the bronze knob, he pulled the door open. A small maid was waiting with a tray of food on the other side. “Everything you requested for your anniversary breakfast is here, my King.” She handed him the tray with a bow before heading back to the kitchen.

He shut the door behind him. He had told the servants what he wanted the night before and he was pleased everything was there as he inspected the tray. Her favorite pancakes, her favorite juice, and her favorite flower on the side for decoration. It was perfect. Happily, he sent the tray down on his desk as he made his way towards the bed to wake his wife. He hoped she would be able to enjoy it in its entirety.

“I won’t just have wrinkles, Thor. My hair will turn grey, maybe even fall out. I might lose my teeth.” She was so worried about her physical appearance. Did she not realize his love for her went way beyond that? While he greatly enjoyed what she looked like, that wasn’t why he loved her. She was so much more than a beautiful face. She was a beautiful heart as well.

“What you look like does not matter to me, my love.” He tried to ease her worries again. He knew humans aged faster and he didn’t care. His heart told him that she was the one he was destined to be with. No amount of aging could change that.

She sighed. “But what if I can’t walk anymore? Can’t hear anymore? Can’t see? What then?”

“If you can no longer walk, then I will be your legs. If you can no longer hear, then I will be your ears. If you can no longer see, then I will be your eyes. Y/N,” he gently cupped her face, “I don’t care about any of those things. All I care about is being with you. However long that is I will take. One more day with you is worth more than a lifetime alone.”

“Breakfast is here, my love,” he said softly as he bent over her side and ran his fingers through her fine, gray hair. The thickness of her hair had dwindled over the years. There were a few patches where he could see her scalp. For the most part, however, it was still there. “I got all of your favorites.”

He watched as her eyes slowly opened and he smiled. “There you are.” He kissed her forehead tenderly. “Hungry?” She didn’t respond, and he didn’t expect her to. She usually remained silent on most days, speaking only a few words a week. That was one of the worst things about her aging. She spoke less and less. The medicine women had assured him that it was normal. His darling wife just wasn’t always mentally around. During these times it was easy for her to lose her voice.

As gently as he could manage, he lifted her to a sitting position. “That’s better for eating.” He gave her forehead another kiss before retrieving the tray of food. He sat down on the bed next to her and placed the tray on her small lap. “Happy anniversary, Y/N. I hope you like it all.”

A smile formed on his lips as he watched her look at the tray. He wasn’t sure if she knew exactly what it was but when she reached for the fork he knew that at least she understood she was to eat. With a shaky hand, she grabbed her fork. She was struggling to get a piece of pancake and struggling even more to make it to her mouth. “Let me help, my Queen.” Thor wrapped his large, thick hand around her thin frail one. He helped guide the fork to the pancake and then to her mouth while making sure she didn’t take too big of a bite. She slowly chewed and swallowed all under her husband’s watchful gaze. Pieces of pancake or juice would occasionally dribble out of her mouth which Thor easily brushed away with a cloth.

“Can you believe we’ve been married for seventy-five years?” He spoke as he helped her eat. “Seventy-five wonderful, amazing years.” He smiled lovingly at her. He knew this was an amazing feet and he thanked the Asgardian medicine women for extending Y/N’s life. He knew the length of the average human lifespan and was forever grateful for the advance medicine that Asgard had to offer. As long as Y/N wasn’t suffering or in pain, he was happy for each day he got to spend with her. Even if she wasn’t completely aware of what was going on.

Once he had helped her eat and drink to her fill he moved the tray from off her. “How about a bath now? We’ll get you all clean and dressed for our special day. I can’t wait to tell you everything I planned out for us.” She remained silent still as he kissed her cheek. Getting off the bed he went to their bathroom and began to run a warm bath for his wife. As the tub began to fill, he went back to the bathroom to retrieve her. With careful ease, he picked her up and cradled her in his large arms. This was such a stark contradiction to how he use to toss her over his shoulder and carry her around. Now he had to be ever so gentle that he did not hurt her.

He scooped her up and placed her on his lap, stroking her thick hair. “I love you, Y/N. I want to stay by your side for the rest of your days. Nothing can change my mind of that.”

She sniffled. “What about when we can’t have sex anymore? When I’m too old and fragile. Will you move on?” Her question came out especially pained. Like the thought of him having sex with anyone else was particularly hard to think about. Honestly, he felt the same way. She was his and he was hers.

He rested his head on top of hers. “I was acquainted with my hand before, I can become so again.” He felt her chuckle at that. “I am pledging myself to you. No matter what I will not falter from that. You are my love, my queen, my everything. Nothing will change that. I promise you.”

She pulled away and gazed into his blue eyes. Tears were still gathered in hers, slowly spilling over as she blinked. He used his thumb to wipe them away, hating that they were there in the first place. “Thor…” She whispered quietly, “I don’t deserve you.”

Now it was his turn to chuckle. “Ah, but it is I who doesn’t deserve you.” He coaxed the ring out of his pocket and took her left hand. She did not protest as he slid the ring on to her finger. “If I had any doubts at all, even one, I would not have asked you to be my bride. I know Fate wants me with you and if you’ll have me I’ll spend every day of my life proving that to you.” He kissed her hand.

More tears fell from her eyes as she looked at the ring. He recognized the changes in her face as that of glee. He could only assume the new tears that fell were from that. “Oh, Thor.” She cradled her left hand to her chest as she leaned back into him. “I’ll have you for as long as you’ll have me.”

“Eternity it is then,” he said before kissing her.

It was easy for him to strip her of her clothing, he had done that countless times before. Eyeing her old body as he sat her in the tub, he reminisced on her younger days. He remembered when they were freshly together, taking their time as they explored each other’s bodies. When they were intimate for the first time. What he would give to make love to her once more. To hear her moan his name once more. But he was content. Having her around at all was more valuable than his want of physical pleasure.

After he lathered his hands with shampoo he began to clean her hair. Bathing her was one of the cares her chambermaids had insisted they do. For years they had helped her bathe and dress herself. There was no reason for this to change just because she had aged. But with her debilitating cognition and motor functions, Thor himself insisted on taking care of her. What seemed like a daily task to a chambermaid was precious moments Thor could be spending with his beloved. Moments he would one day lose and never retrieve. That thought was what pushed him to be her fulltime caregiver.

“Can you smell the bath water?” When her hair was thoroughly cleaned he began to rinse it, careful not to get water or run off shampoo into her eyes. “I added the lemon scent. I know it’s your favorite.” Once her hair was free of shampoo, he lathered his hands again, this time with soap, and began to wash her. “I have your favorite red dress all ready for when we’re done with your bath. You’ll look so ravishing in it. After that I plan on reading to you from your favorite book. We can do that as long as you like. Maybe even until tea time.” His smile grew as he told his wife his plans. “Then we can go for a stroll in the gardens. It’s the time of year where they’re all in bloom. We can take our time and smell them all.”

Once she was cleaned he lifted her from the tub and let the water drain. He set her down in her wheelchair and began to dress her. He was vehemently against having the chair at first. Had he not promised to be her legs when she could no longer walk? But it was convenient to have both his arms free when moving her and other things at the same time since she could no longer just wrap herself around him. And he would not have to worry about breaking her if she was secure in a chair.

She made a few noises as he smoothed out her dress and brushed her hair. Love swelled in his heart and flowed through his veins. “I’ll take that as I did a solid job taking care of you this morning.” When he was done getting her ready he crouched down in front of her, taking in every feature of her old face. He wanted to memorize every wrinkle, every liver spot, every flaw and imperfection. One day he wouldn’t be able to.

“Now,” he said, rising to his feet. “I do have one more thing planned special for our anniversary. Not only will I read you your favorite book, but I’ll do it during a thunderstorm. Do you remember doing that when you were younger? How you would curl up with a blanket and a book every time I released my power outside? I want to recreate that for you.”

He rolled her to the large window in their bedroom and stopped her wheelchair just in front of it. “Wait right here. I’ll be back in just a few moments.” After he gave her a quick kiss, he opened the window and leaped out. He was determined to create a fierce storm, one she would surely notice. He wanted thunder loud enough for her to hear and lightning bright enough for her to see. Once he was satisfied with his creation he came back to her, happy to see she was exactly as how he left her.

“What do you think, my love?” He stood by her side, his hand on the back of her chair. “I think this is my best one yet.” He remained there with his wife, admiring his own work.

“Thor,” her fragile voice spoke, sounding like ghosts and cobwebs. Dry from not having been used in awhile.

His head snapped to her. She had not spoken his name in so long, he started to think he would never hear her say it again. He grabbed her hand, eager for her to speak again. “Yes, Y/N? What is it? I’m here.” He crouched again to her level, eyes zooming over her face. He could see the flashes of lightning reflecting in her eyes and hoped she was acknowledging them. The thunder vibrated through the room. Surely if she could not hear it she could feel it.

“Thor,” she said again, and he could see a flash of recognition on her features. She could see the storm. She knew it was there. Tears filled his eyes as he watched her watch his creation. He squeezed her hand lightly, letting her know that he was there.

She stayed silent for a few more moments, watching the storm. “Beautiful,” she croaked out.

“Yes,” he said, not bothering to stop the tears as they fell down his face. “Yes, you are. Happy anniversary, my Queen.”

Other people doing the 2.5k challenge (at the time of my posting): @avengingmelanin  @avengersandlovers  @vulnificura  @arinharin  @beautifulbows924  @steviejazz  @awkward-walking-potato  @thranduilxlegolasx  @killmongerrss  @fandom-fangirl-fanatics  @novakkaia  @klausbaudelaireee  @writingsformuse  @sarcastic-bisexual   @therevolution-willbelive  @laurens-lil-fics  @ironman-trilogy  @ttaikas  @batisalia  @rowdyhooliganism  @ghost-with-spaghetti-arms  @whichwayisthebeach-seabass  @swellwriting  @history-freak1  @therevolution-willbelive  @vulnificura  @tropicalcap  @pagethepunisher  @rowdyhooliganism

Constructive criticism welcome! 

Thinking Out Loud Ch. 2

Shelby Bates grew up with the Winchesters, fighting alongside them and saving the day as needed. She was living the life she loved with the man she loved, until a dark family secret comes out and she is kidnapped while Dean can only watch helplessly. Dean struggles to live without her- the only person that ever made him feel like he was worth something, until she shows up years later.

Pairing: Dean Winchester X OC(Shelby Bates)

Word Count: 3105

Rating: M

Masterlist

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

  Chapter Two: You're Not Alone

Some days I just can't go on I stumble and fall And I hang my head But You reach out for my hand And You lift me up Again and again Oh, yes, You do -Owl City ft. Britt Nicole

 Dean sighed happily. He didn't know when he met the Bates' that he would come to care so much for the girl who annoyed the hell out of him as soon as they met. He had known Shelby for nearly ten years of their lives. In 1989, John was following up on a lead about the demon who murdered Mary.

 -TOL-

 While driving down a dark back road heading to what he hoped would be a motel, John Winchester sighed angrily at his rear view mirror. His two sons were bickering in the back seat, seat belts long forgotten. He didn’t have the energy for these two.

 “Dean! Control yourself son. Buckle your brother back in and get in your own seat. You hear me? So help me if you don’t, I’ll pull this car over and make you two walk to the motel!” John eyed his eldest son angrily through the rear view mirror before Dean sniffled a bit and pushed Sam back down into his car seat. Just as Dean buckled his own seat belt, he lurched to the side, hitting his shaved head on the side of Sam’s own shaggy one. Rubbing his own head while checking his little brother over, Dean asked his dad what happened. Only to be answered by a growl and slamming of the Impala door. The two boys’ heads popped into view of the window and looked out into the rainy night. A royal blue Camaro sat perpendicular to their own car, smoke coming out of the hood and the hood slightly tee pee’d.

 While John looked over the damage of the body on his car, the other man walked up and held his hand out with an old receipt from a gas station. It had chicken scratch on the back; probably the driver’s insurance information. John shifted angrily. His poor Baby, he had just had it washed. He grabbed the receipt out of the man's hand. He paused. Was that?

 "You a hunter?" John asked with surprise in his voice. Hearing his dad, Dean got out and walked around to the other side of the Impala, looking up at the scruffy man in the leather jacket. Dean followed his father's line of sight to the mystery man's wrist, where a braided leather bracelet with an anti-possession pendant tied into it. A squeak came from the uninjured side of the Impala. A second later, Sam came up by Dean and grabbed his hand. He was still a bit shocked by the impact. Dean shrugged him off and walked away when his father gave them a look, telling them to get back into the car.

 "What?" Is all the verbal response John received. His question was answered when the man's hand slowly went behind his back.

 "Whoa, whoa man. No need for a gun. I'm not the boogeyman. I'm the guy who hunts him. John Winchester." John said with a tight smile, slightly forgiving the fellow hunter for the impact on his car. The man huffed quietly and shoved his hand out to shake John’s.

 "Sorry ‘bout that. Can't be too careful. Name's Colt Bates. And this-" Colt said, turning around to behind his Camaro and reaching into the shadows,

 "Is Shelby, my daughter. Shelby, mind your manners now. What would your mamma say?" Colt lightly scolded the young brunette, who had silent tears running down her eyes. She looked up at John through her eyelashes and sniffled, then held out her hand to the large man.

 "It's nice to meet you Mr. John." The shy girl said. John shook her hand, eyebrows raising ever so slightly at how firm the handshake was coming from such a small girl. After releasing her hand, John called for his boys to come back around.

 "Now boys, this here is Colt Bates and his daughter Shelby. They're going to ride back with us to a motel and we're gonna come back tomorrow to tow his car." At the words coming from the legendary hunter's mouth, Colt stilled.

 "Nonsense John, we can call a cab-" While the two older men discussed what to do with the vehicles and such, the three young children looked at each other tensely.

 "Hi, I'm Shelby. What are your names?" Shelby looked at Sam and Dean with her bright green eyes, tears still coming down but getting less frequent. Dean scoffed at the crying girl, What a wussy! He thought. Shelby just ignored him and looked at the short, brown haired boy next to the mean blonde one. He smiled shyly at her and introduced himself,

 "I'm Sam, it's nice to meet you. This is Dean, my big brother. He can be a jerk sometimes." That made Shelby smile a little and Sam chuckled, while Dean crossed his arms over his chest and stomped back the Impala. He slammed the door to the back seat. Shelby and Sam shared a small smile.

 The slamming door grabbed the two mens attention and John grumbled while Colt smiled a bit. They had decided to drive back in the Impala, since it had less damage to it. Colt unloaded some essentials from his car and loaded them in the trunk of Johns ride. He whistled softly at the impressive arsenal in the demon-warded trunk. He'd have to take note of some of the items in there.

 The car ride to the motel was filled with the quiet chatter of the men talking about what they needed to fix the cars. Dean noticed that John had relaxed and seemed to have forgotten about the yellow-eyed demon for the time being. He was okay with that. Anytime John caught wind of that thing, Sam and Dean took the brunt of his frustration when he lost the trail, which happened more often than not. Maybe this dude and his wussy daughter would distract him long enough for a break.

 Dean scoffed when Shelby's head fell on his shoulder as they rounded the corner for a motel. Sam and she had fallen asleep about 10 minutes into the ride. He ignored the cold feeling he got when Colt picked Shelby up from the middle of the back seat.

 -TOL-

 Almost as if she was reading his mind, the warmth from his left side disappeared when Shelby bolted out of her position gasping his name in terror. Another nightmare. Dean shifted to a more comfortable position and glanced at Shelby sidelong. She had tears in her eyes, much like the night they met. Only this time Dean didn't think of her as a wussy.

"Sorry, Dean." She murmured. Dean nodded his acceptance and rolled out of the bed. Shelby pulled her knees up to her chest and rested her chin on them. She eyed Dean carefully as he padded the kitchenette and started the coffee pot. He then walked over to his duffel and grabbed a few things before heading into the bathroom. Before he shut the door, he heard a soft 'thank you' leave Shelby's lips. He turned slightly and gave her a soft, half-smile.

 "Anytime, Princess." Shelby's mood lightened at the nickname he had given her years ago, while she was in her pony-wanting stage. She gave him a warm smile as he turned around and shut the bathroom door. She checked the time. Three p.m. Damn, we slept longer that I would have liked. Shelby watched the coffee brew as her thoughts flew back to her dream. One she had often.

 -TOL-

 Breathe, Shelby. Just breathe.

 But she couldn't, the cold water surrounding her at all angles wouldn't allow it. She looked down at her hand, which was connected to her mother's bigger one. She followed the tan skin up her mother's arm and to her face, to her closed eyes. This wasn't right. She should be looking at bright green eyes. And her mother's skin should be a deep tan, not turning pale.

 Tired. So tired. Right as Shelby closed her eyes she felt someone grab her harshly from above. Dragging her up.

 Breathe, Shelby. Just breathe.

 "Damn it Shelby. Wake up. I can't lose you." Shelby swam out of the darkness and towards the familiar voice and gorgeous green eyes. But not her mothers.

 "Dean." She shot up, gasping for air.

 -TOL-

 The real memory didn't quite match the nightmare she always had. It was her dad's bright blue eyes and his deep, gruff voice that met her when she awoke. Fifteen years ago, her mother drowned. Sucked down by something supernatural while trying to rescue Shelby when she leaned too far over the lake’s dock. Her family had been on a short vacation in Arizona. Colt and Amelia had just taken out a huge vampire nest and decided to celebrate. To this day they never found out what had grabbed Shelby off the dock and ultimately took her mother. To this day she still hadn't stopped blaming herself.

Ever since she and Dean had started to get along, her nightmare changed. To his voice, his eyes. Rescuing her. She had long since told him and Sam about her mother's mysterious death. And Dean knew about her regular nightmares. She still never told him about his appearance in it. She was too embarrassed.

 She heard the shower turn off and glanced at Dean as he stepped out of the bathroom, clad in a blotchy green towel. Shelby averted her eyes from Dean's bare chest. She had seen the smooth slab of skin so many times before, she wouldn't be able to count. But after her dream she felt jumpy around him. Dean looked her way while he moved to the dresser by his bed and grabbed the clothes he would need for the day. Shelby cleared her throat before grabbing her workout clothes and disappearing into the bathroom. Dean dressed, smirking to himself the whole time. He loved to tease her.

 Shelby wiped last nights makeup away from her face and pulled her knotted hair back in a high, messy bun. She pulled on her black shorts and grey tank top before splashing some cold water on her face to wake her up a bit. After brushing her teeth, the brunette opened the door to a fully dressed Dean on his laptop.

 "I'm gonna go for a run. Wanna come?" Dean shook his head no and continued to check the internet. Probably looking for a lead. Shelby sighed. She was itching for a case, but she wanted to enjoy this day, especially after everything that had happened last night. Grabbing a twenty dollar bill from her brown leather book bag she smirked.

 "You know, one of these days all those greasy double bacon cheeseburgers and pies are gonna catch up with those rock hard abs. And you'll be saying, 'Damn, why didn't I listen to Shelby when I had the chance?'" Dean rolled his eyes at the girl, grumbling about having good genes, and turned towards his laptop once again. Shelby sat down next to him and pull on her socks and running shoes. She slipped the twenty into her shorts pocket, then her moms old army knife into her thigh sheath that the shorts covered. It wasn't very comfortable while running, and the shorts didn't hide the huge bulge coming out of her left leg but she'd rather look stupid than be caught without a weapon.

 "Well don't take too long. I wanna be on the road by tonight. Might have something in Alabama. Hey, and stay away from that damn bar! Shelby?" Dean got no reply as the door slammed behind the huntress. He smirked at her. Such the attitude. That's one of the things that drew him to her constantly.

 He pulled the old ring out of his front pocket. He'd seen the heart-shaped garnet ring in a thrift shop a few months ago while their dads were on a hunt in Indiana. He, Sam, and Shelby had decided to check out the small town. They came upon a thrift shop. While Shelby was busy softly fiddling with an old guitar, Sam pointed out the antique ring to Dean, who bought it as quickly as he could without her seeing. Garnet was Shelby's birthstone. It was killing him to keep this from her.

 Even something as small as a ring, which was supposed to be a surprise, made him feel slightly guilty about not telling her what was happening. He told Shelby everything. She was honestly the only person keeping him together in this life his father dragged him into. When John yelled at him for screwing something up on a hunt, it wasn't his little brother that brought him out of his rut. It was Shelby.

 She had this thing about her, which made everyone in the room a little happier. That something, whatever it was, drove him crazy half the time. Because he wanted to be mad, get angry back at his father. For making him feel useless, like he didn't matter. It wasn't Sam's voice saying not to listen to him, no. It was Shelby's soothing voice that brought him back to reality. A reality where he mattered. He saved people's lives. He did matter. Shelby made sure he knew that.

 -TOL-

 Shelby took a few big gulps of the cucumber flavored Gatorade she had purchased from a gas station a few blocks back. She looked at her watch. 5:26. She should probably head back, it was getting dark. Shelby was glad for the warmer January weather in Georgia. She was a little chilly when she started her run in her tank top and shorts, but by the time she had been running for a few minutes she started sweating. She drained the rest of her Gatorade quickly before tossing it into a recycling bin by a bench in the park she had found.

 Her trip back was quicker than she anticipated, Dean too apparently, for when she opened the unlocked door at six pm, she saw Dean had a crumpled piece of old college-ruled notebook paper in his hands. His eyes were tinged pink around the edges and glassed over when his head shot up. Shelby looked away quickly, not wanting to impose on whatever he was thinking about. She grabbed a change of clothes and her shower bag out of her duffel and headed to the bathroom for a long-awaited shower.

 -TOL-

 When Dean heard the shower turn on he glanced back down at the piece of paper in his hands. Shelby didn't know he had stolen it from her a few years ago. It was a song she had written. For him, but apparently she hadn't wanted him to see it because he found it in an old journal of hers while he was looking for some info on a case his dad had caught wind of.

 It was right after John busted his mouth open for raiding a Djinn warehouse by himself, only being saved from death by the sure, calculating hands of Shelby. Just in time. Shelby had cried silently that night in the bed across the cheap motel room, scribbling something in her leather-bound journal. He assumed it was new info on the Djinn they found.

 Turns out it was this song, which he keeps folded in his wallet at all times. It helped him through whenever his dad got rough on him.

 Some days I barely hold on When life drags me down I wanna let go But when my spirit is weak You come to my aid And strengthen my soul

I'm lost without You I'll never doubt You Your grace is beyond compare And though when it rains, it pours You know all I have is Yours You smile when you hear my prayer

You rescued me and I believe That God is love and He is all I need From this day forth for all eternity I'll never wander on my own For I am Yours until you call me home i close my eyes and I can hear You say You're not alone

Some days I just can't go on I stumble and fall And I hang my head But You reach out for my hand And You lift me up Again and again Oh, yes, You do

 Dean smiled lovingly at the doodles lining the side of the page; a horse head, some flowers, and a very detailed sketch of a .44 her dad carried around all the time. There were small notes of lyrics, like they were added as an after-thought; having no home yet in the script on the page. She was a great singer, and even better at writing songs it seemed. This wasn't the first she had done. Some of them she even shared with Dean; sometimes Sam, who could never seem to stop complimenting her on the job well done.

 Dean felt the same about her songs and voice, she had this way of painting a picture with her voice. The way her fingers glided over the guitar strings killed him. Yet somehow he could never seem to do more than smile appreciatively and murmur 'good job' when she was finished. Maybe it was because he saw how she squirmed under the lime light of Sam's doting; and how her eyes lit up like New York City when she heard the soft acceptance from the oldest Winchester brother.

Shelby opened the bathroom door just as Dean slipped the paper back in his wallet. He looked her over before saying,

"Alright, let's pack up, we got business to take of."

 "Dean, are you forgetting something?" Shelby tried to keep a smile from her face.

 "No, unless you found my razor, I've been missing it since Florida." Shelby had noticed. The dark stubble adorning his otherwise smooth face explained everything. She had found it, in the back seat in between the cushions. She had left it there, rather enjoying the 5 o'clock shadow.

 "Nope" She popped the P. She squirmed under the stern green eyes latched onto her form.

 "Well in that case-"

 "Dean, come on! I wanna do something for my birthday!" Dean smiled. Oh how he loved teasing her.

 "I know Princess, if you would just calm yourself and get ready, I have something to show you." Shelby smiled as she ran to her duffel bag, excited for what Dean had in store.

 -TOL-

The Prince of Ice: Ch.21

Part 21 of The Prince of Ice series, a retelling of Heir of Fire from Rowan’s point of view.

The Prince of Ice: Parts [ 1 ] [ 2 ] [ 3 ] [ 4 ] [ 5 ] [ 6 ] [ 7 ] [ 8 ] [ 9 ] [ 10 ] [ 11 ] [ 12 ] [ 13 ] [ 14 ] [ 14.5 ] [ 15 ] [ 16 ]  [ 17 ] [ 18 ] [ 19 ] [ 20 ]

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He sat at his work table monitoring Aelin. His instincts to protect had battled for hours against his demons. He had never fussed over his mate, the same way he was fussing over Aelin. If he had, maybe… He froze that thought deep into the dark abyss that had become his soul. If there was one lesson that was deeply ingrained, it was that he could never go back.

He looked over at Aelin, noticing she looked peaceful. At this moment he could easily see the Ashryver lineage in the gold of her skin and hair. He remembered decades ago when Rhoe had fallen in love with one of the fair princesses on a trip to Wendlyn. He had given up his right of succession to marry Evalin. The royal court in Terrasen had feared that she would would stay young as he continued to age. With no heir possible from King Orlon, it was determined that their child would be the heir to the throne.

He had a feeling it was a concession on the part of the nobles. Rhoe and Orlon were the last of Brannon’s line. He recalled the lessons that he and Edna sat through, the lessons to mold them into the heads of House Whitethorn. He recalled his uncle mentioning that Terrasen had a great distrust of Maeve and in some ways Wendlyn. Terrasen would never kneel to a princess of Wendlyn.

His eyes dropped to the scared hands and wrists that rested on her abdomen. Instead of being groomed for the crown, she had spent the past ten years being trained to kill. Instead of attending balls and royal functions, she had spent a year as a slave. She was much stronger than he had initially given her credit for. The spoiled brat facade was just that, a mark she wore to face her world.

The scent of two familiar demi-fae pulled him from his thoughts. He had always enjoyed the company of the old man and Luca was starting to grow on him, much in the same way Fenrys had. Even now in her current condition neither male were a true threat to her well being. So the growl that erupted from his throat took all of them by surprise.

Emrys flashed a knowing smile, “Well Elentiya, it seems you are in competent hands, we’ll come back in a few days.”

He appreciated the old man, but that knowing smile ruffled him. He needed to bury the thoughts that blossomed from that smile. The guilt to move forward and live while is mate has died could consume him if he let it.

He continued to study the map marking the location of the found bodies. There was not an easily seen pattern, except that the locations made little sense. He could not remember a time where he had stared so intently at a map hoping it would give him the answers he was looking for, while providing the escape of not facing the current situation in his room.

Aelin pulled him from his thoughts, “You know, I highly doubt anyone is going to attack me now, if they’ve already put up with my nonsense for this long.”

“This isn’t negotiable.”  And it was not negotiable. He could hardly explain the strength in his desire to protect her.

“So you mean to tell me that whenever someone comes close to burnout, she not only goes through all this misery, but if she’s female, the males around her go this berserk?”

He set down his pen and twisted to examine her. Was this berserk? No. Berserk would have been barring the doors, eating only meals prepared by himself. Berserk would be incapacitating every demi-fae in this fortress until she was healed. No, he was fighting against berserk.

“This is hardly berserk. At least you can defend yourself by physical means when your magic is useless. For other Fae, even if they’ve had weapons and defense training, if they can’t touch their magic, they’re vulnerable, especially when they’re drained and in pain. That makes people—usually males, yes—somewhat edgy. Others have been known to kill without thought any perceived threat, real or otherwise.”

He pulled her mug from her, seeing that it was drained he refilled it.

“What sort of threat? Maeve’s lands are peaceful.”

“Threats from anywhere—males, females, creatures … You can’t reason against it. Even if it wasn’t in our culture, there would still be an instinct to protect the defenseless, regardless of whether they’re female or male, young or old.”

She was looking a little peeky. He reached for a slice of bread and a bowl of beef broth. “Eat this.”

“It pains me to say this, but one more bite and I’ll be sick all over the place.”

Ignoring her, he dipped the bread into the broth and held them out to her. Before she had a chance to argue with him, “You need to keep up your energy. You probably came so close to burnout because you didn’t have enough food in your stomach.”

He should have been closely monitoring, before he asked her to keep three fires alight, he should have ensured she had a full meal, something more than an apple. It was his job to instruct her and even though they had already determined he was the worst teacher in the world, he never recalled telling her that her fae body requires more food than her human form.

While she ate, he fussed around the room before grabbing the now empty bowl from her, returning to the worktable trying to ignore the pain that was written between her brows.

“So when the magic runs out,” she said, “that’s it—either you stop or you burn out?”

The fact that he suspected they shared a carranam bond, her question allowed him to ease into a conversation he had been avoiding the last few hours. He knew her training on her fae nature was limited, would have been limited even if the last ten years had not occurred. Demi-fae rarely were powerful enough to have experienced the carranam bond.

Rowan leaned back in his chair. “Well, there’s the carranam.”

“It’s hard to explain, I’ve only ever seen it used a handful of times on killing fields. When you’re drained, your carranam can yield their power to you, as long as you’re compatible and actively sharing a blood connection.”

She tilted her head to the side. “If we were carranam, and I gave you my power, would you still only be using wind and ice—not my fire?”

He nodded his response.

“How do you know if you’re compatible with someone?”

He thought for a moment, “There’s no way of telling until you try. And the bond is so rare that the majority of Fae never meet someone who is compatible, or whom they trust enough to test it out. There’s always a threat that they could take too much—and if they’re unskilled, they could shatter your mind. Or you could both burn out completely.”

He felt the guilt he had been hoarding over the deep need to care for Aelin in ways that he did not Lyria fade completely. While the mating bond was sacred, to experience it did not leave you completely defenseless. To share a carranam bond with another soul, to allow yourself to open completely to another soul, to trust them enough not to harm you, that was an entirely different matter. To trust another soul that deeply explained the strength of his need to protect her.

“Could you ever just steal magic from someone?”

“Less savory Fae once attempted to do so—to win battles and add to their own power—but it never worked. And if it did, it was because the person they held hostage was coincidentally compatible. Maeve outlawed any forced bonds long before I was born, but … I’ve been sent a few times to hunt down corrupt Fae who keep their carranam as slaves. Usually, the slaves are so broken there’s no way to rehabilitate them. Putting them down is the only mercy I can offer.”

The memories of those times threatened to overtake him. The only reason he survived those deaths was because he often prayed for the same mercy he granted to those broken souls.

“Doing that must be harder than all the wars and sieges you’ve ever waged.”

It was those times that he had prayed to the gods, begged to them for a better world, a world without monsters.

“Immortality is not as much of a gift as mortals would believe. It can breed monsters that even you would be sick to learn about. Imagine the sadists you’ve encountered—and then imagine them with millennia to hone their craft and warped desires.”

He watched Aelin shudder at the thought. She had also seen and known the monsters that plagued their world, but only from the human aspect. “This conversation’s become too awful to have after eating,”

“Tell me which one of your little cadre is the handsomest, and if he would fancy me.”

He could not hold back the choke that left his throat.  The thought of her and Fenrys made his blood boil, it was amazing how the boyo could annoy him even in a general conversation. But her with the others caused him to feel a strong dread in the pit of his stomach.

“The thought of you with any of my companions makes my blood run cold.”

“They’re that awful? Your kitty-cat friend looked decent enough.”

It took all of his being not to choke out a laugh. Kitty-cat?

“I don’t think my kitty-cat friend would know what to do with you—nor would any of the others. It would likely end in bloodshed.”

He crossed his arms at the grin that alight her face. While there was a part of him that wanted to see her smile, the other part did not want her to smile at the thought of being with one of his companions. He needed to end this conversation before it morphed into another line of questioning.

“They would likely have very little interest in you, as you’ll be old and decrepit soon enough and thus not worth the effort it would take to win you.”

He almost smiled when she rolled her eyes, “Killjoy.”

When he looked over her again, his eyes caught on her wrists, the proof that she had once worn shackles.

“A skilled healer could probably get rid of those scars—definitely the ones on your wrist, and most on your back.”

He was not sure why he offered the fleeting thought, her scars told a story that should not be erased.

“There were cells in the bowels of the mines that they used to punish slaves. Cells so dark you would wake up in them and think you’d been blinded. They locked me in there sometimes—once for three weeks straight. And the only thing that got me through it was reminding myself of my name, over and over and over—I am Celaena Sardothien.”

It took all of his two centuries of being Maeve’s blood sworn to lock down the rage that was boiling inside him. He sat listening to a girl of eighteen tell him about her hell.

“When they would let me out, so much of my mind had shut down in the darkness that the only thing I could remember was that my name was Celaena. Celaena Sardothien, arrogant and brave and skilled, Celaena who did not know fear or despair, Celaena who was a weapon honed by Death.”

“I don’t usually let myself think about that part of Endovier, after I got out, there were nights when I would wake up and think I was back in those cells, and I would have to light every candle in my room to prove I wasn’t. They don’t just kill you in the mines—they break you.

“There are thousands of slaves in Endovier, and a good number are from Terrasen. Regardless of what I do with my birthright, I’m going to find a way to free them someday. I will free them. Them, and all the slaves in Calaculla, too. So my scars serve as a reminder of that.”

The name whispered on the wind all those weeks ago came forward. Fireheart.

What other pain was she caring close to her heart? Before he could stop himself, “What happened ten years ago, Aelin?”

“I’m not going to talk about that.”

“If you took up your crown, you could free Endovier far more easily than—”

“I can’t talk about it.”

This is when he knew that she blamed herself in some part for the events that occurred ten years ago.

“Why?”

“There is this … rage, this despair and hatred and rage that lives and breathes inside me. There is no sanity to it, no gentleness. It is a monster dwelling under my skin. For the past ten years, I have worked every day, every hour, to keep that monster locked up. And the moment I talk about those two days, and what happened before and after, that monster is going to break loose, and there will be no accounting for what I do.”

And there it was. He had worked through that rage when he slowly killed the Fae that had murdered his wife and child. He was able to settle the rage knowing that those responsible were dead. He could not imagine what it would have been like to have to bottle up that rage because he was helpless to seek vengeance.

“That is how I was able to stand before the King of Adarlan, how I was able to befriend his son and his captain, how I was able to live in that palace. Because I did not give that rage, those memories, one inch. And right now I am looking for the tools that might destroy my enemy, and I cannot let out the monster, because it will make me use those tools against the king, not put them back as I should—and I might very well destroy the world for spite. So that is why I must be Celaena, not Aelin—because being Aelin means facing those things, and unleashing that monster. Do you understand?”

He did, more than she realized.

“For whatever it’s worth, I don’t think you would destroy the world from spite. But I also think you like to suffer. You collect scars because you want proof that you are paying for whatever sins you’ve committed. And I know this because I’ve been doing the same damn thing for two hundred years. Tell me, do you think you will go to some blessed Afterworld, or do you expect a burning hell? You’re hoping for hell—because how could you face them in the After-world? Better to suffer, to be damned for eternity and—”

“That’s enough,” she whispered.

What a pair they were. He continued to sit at his work table, knowing that if laid next to her in this very moment he would pull her into him. That was a line he could not cross. It was bad enough that he did not request a cot, sharing a living space would blur the lines, sharing a bed would blur then even farther.

He also knew that he should not get attached, that in a short matter of time that he would have to leave. That this chapter of their lives would end and at that time they would have to part ways.

For tonight and for the days to come he would live in the moment, take the small reprieve from the darkness that she had to offer.

Together. He knew that the together they spoke of did not end here. With that thought, he laid beside her allowing her scent of jasmine, lemon verbena and embers caress over his battered soul, before he spoke,  “At least if you’re going to hell, then we’ll be there together.”

Tired of fighting the urge to touch her, he brushed a large hand down her hair, hiding the smirk when she flatly stated, “I feel bad for the dark god already.”

“When I’m back to normal, can I assume you’re going to yell at me about almost burning out?”

He let out a soft laugh but continued stroking her hair. “You have no idea.”

In that moment he decided that the day she decided to free the slaves from the labor camps, that he would be beside her. Even if Maeve whipped him within a millimeter of his life, it would be worth the pain to see a single wish of hers to come true. “I have no doubt that you’ll be able to free the slaves from the labor camps some day. No matter what name you use.”

When he felt her hand against his chest, and she whispered “thank you for looking after me,” he grunted to fight the urge to pull her closer. Boundaries. She was off-limits for a thousand reasons, not to mention that even if he could open his heart in that way again, he was sworn to Maeve.

@awesomebooksuniverse @loppymooney @queen-elain @inrealliampain @namjoonseuphoria

An Energy Efficient 1960s Renovation in Bayswater

Bayswater is one of my favourite suburbs in Perth. If you don’t know it; think old farmhouses, sleepy streets, old trees, character houses with tons of potential, and little pockets of former farming land that make you feel like you could have stepped back in time. It has so much perfectly unpolished charm, and it often strikes me as one of the few areas left in Perth where you can still pick up a really cute character home without breaking the bank (such as this house or this one).

It’s no wonder Bayswater attracts a lot of renovators, such as Pamela Medlen and Nathaniel Clarke, who renovated this 1960s Bayswater home a few years ago. While Baysie has numerous character homes with cute period features, their renovation shows how you can update and ADD character to a fairly plain older home – and what’s also interesting about their project is that it’s an example of how you can design and use materials to create a thermally efficient home (that does away with air-conditioning altogether!)

I LOVE the entry to the house – filled with century plants – and may have stolen this idea for our reno! Photoshoot styling: Anna Flanders. Photography: Dion Robeson.

NO AIR CON, NO WORRIES: Builder Drago Bacic of Bacic Group says one of the home’s biggest selling points is actually what the home doesn’t have, which is air-conditioning! Made using Bacic Group’s product bWalls, an insulated panel, it doesn’t need it. “Most people wouldn’t dream of building a home in this climate without air conditioning but Pamela and Nathaniel aren’t most people!” he laughs. “With clever selection of materials and a well-designed and oriented home, we were able to deliver on that brief and build a home that’s comfortable to live in all year round.” Despite a lack of sea breezes in Bayswater (which isn’t close to the beach) the home stays cool and comfy in summer. Photoshoot styling: Anna Flanders. Photography: Dion Robeson.

Previously living “across the tracks” with their beagles Chilli and Mustard, Pamela and Nathaniel had patiently house-hunted for two years, wanting a project in a beautiful quiet neighbourhood. “We would walk the dogs around the suburb because we loved the area, and we would choose our favourite streets,” says Pamela. “It took two years of dog walking searches before we found the place. When it went on the market we were on Rottnest… I had to phone the agent and tell him he wasn’t allowed to sell it until I’d seen it!”

The house had been built in the 1960s for an older single lady on the former tennis court of the big old house next door. “It was a very nondescript, rectangular box,” says Pamela. “The block slopes from the front street to the back lane, so you can barely see much of the house from the street. The house was solid and plain. The bathroom was tiny and had the old avocado-coloured pedestal basin and shell soap holder. The whole kitchen was avocado. The timber floors were nice and there was nice light inside… our previous house had been quite dark.” Althought it needed work, it was tidy, and Nathaniel and Pamela could see the potential in the 60s house.

Because of the sloping block, finding a builder willing to take on the project – let alone on their budget –  their budget was proving an arduous task. Pamela now says if she were to give other people renovating advice, it would be not to give up! “We had upward of ten builders come and look to give us a quote,” she says. “Half of them walked away when they saw the slope of the block and the retaining work. We were just about to give up hope of getting it built and getting it built for a reasonable price.”

Then Pamela caught up with an old work colleague, Elvira Nuic, from her days at the ABC. Elvira had since become the interior designer and client manager for Bacic Group, a Perth boutique building and design studio with a minimalist, mid-century modern-inspired aesthetic.

“Pamela and Elvira caught up over drinks and got chatting about the build and how much trouble they were having finding a builder who would take on the project and could build it on budget,” says Bacic Group builder Drago Bacic (Elivra’s partner). “We offered to help and it turned into an amazing journey.”

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From the start, Drago says they worked closely with the Pamela and Nathaniel’s designers, The Colour Royale, to suggest changes to the design and materials to slice almost $200,000 off the build estimate and improve its energy efficiency. “We managed this with only small changes to the layout and kept the size of the build relatively unchanged,” he says. “One major cost saving was utilising our bWall insulated concrete walling system. This made constructing the basement easier, quicker and cheaper and gave the structure a well-insulated shell. Together with the Bondor refrigerated roof panels and low-e glazing, bWall helped eliminate the need for air conditioning altogether.”

Drago and his team designed and created their bWall system and they swear by it so much that they use it exclusively in all their homes. “Pamela and Nathaniel’s home is built on quite a steep site which scared away a lot of builders, but was the big selling point for us,” he says. “Challenging blocks are where our walling system shines. bWall arrives flat packed and the walls, including all the retaining, are erected very quickly and then poured with concrete.” The exterior of this renovation features wood-look fibre cement panels which have been painted black. The panels form part of the bWall system, eliminating the need for render or cladding.

According to Drago, one of the home’s biggest selling points now is actually what the home doesn’t have, which is air-conditioning! “Most people wouldn’t dream of building a home in this climate without air conditioning but Pamela and Nathaniel aren’t most people!” he laughs. “With clever selection of materials and a well-designed and oriented home, we were able to deliver on that brief and build a home that’s comfortable to live in all year round.”

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BAR OR BEDROOM? “The enormous bar/bedroom door is more like a sliding wall than a door and was a genius inclusion by The Colour Royale,” says Drago of one of the home’s most attention-grabbing features. Photoshoot styling: Anna Flanders. Photography: Dion Robeson.

Inside, the interiors were done with the help of Ultimo Interiors and feature numerous artworks from Linton and Kay. Pamela and Nathaniel love entertaining and the house was designed for this, with an amazing giant sliding door to the bedroom that actually hides the bar, above. “It’s a pretty spectacular reveal when people don’t realise what it is!” says Pamela. “We love having people stop by for a cocktail or dinner. It’s the nicest thing in the evening to throw together some cheese and crackers while Nathaniel whips up a cocktail and go and sit on the deck as the sun goes down. Magic.”

The house now was worth the inevitable work that comes with living in a house during its renovation, which Pamela and Nathaniel did! “Our builders, Bacic Group, were a dream to work with,” says Pamela. “Honestly we couldn’t have worked with a better team of people and construction workers and we know because we lived through the whole thing! Our designers The Colour Royale have some very exciting ideas and new ways of looking at architecture. Janine Mendel from Cultivart designed the garden and she is probably the best small space designer in Australia.”

INTERIOR PIECES: “Most of the furniture is from Ultimo who have the most amazing selection of contemporary furniture!” says Pamela. “A lot of the art is from Linton & Kay.”

After two years of searching and almost a year for the build, Pamela and Nathaniel have been stoked to call their dream location home. “Bayswater’s a real hidden secret… the village has everything in walking distance, there are a few eateries now,” she says. “We’re close to the train and can cycle to work in 15 minutes along a cycle path. I don’t think people realise yet that the suburb is so close to everything.” Maya x

Pamela and Nathaniel have been together since they were very young. “Nathaniel’s dad was my high school English Literature teacher and his sister my school friend – I visited her over the holidays once when her big brother was home from university interstate,” remembers Pamela. “I was just 16! And that was that… we’ve been inseparable ever since.” Photoshoot styling: Anna Flanders. Photography: Dion Robeson.

HOME DETAILS

THE OWNERS Nathaniel Clarke and Pamela Medlen

THEIR HOME A fully renovated and extended energy efficient 1960s brick home

LOCATION Bayswater, Western Australia

COMPLETED 2016

THE HOME DESIGNER The Colour Royale

THE BUILDER Bacic Group

THE INTERIOR DESIGN Ultimo Interiors

PHOTOSHOOT STYLING Anna Flanders

PHOTOGRAPHY Dion Robeson

The post An Energy Efficient 1960s Renovation in Bayswater appeared first on House Nerd.

from Home Improvement https://house-nerd.com/2019/06/02/energy-efficient-1960s-reno/

As Hard As You Can

To each their own and find peace in knowing Ain't always broken, but here's to hoping Show no emotion, against your coding Just act as hard as you can You don't need a friend Boy, you're the man

“Feeling Whitney,” Post Malone

“I’ll see you…” Dom trailed off, pulling up his jeans, eyes on the clock by the door as it flashed from 6:59 to 7:00. “…I’ll send you a message once I figure out my schedule for this week.” He said at last, zipping his fly and turning around to face the girl sprawled on the mattress on the floor. 

She was pretty—brunette, his type, with dark eyes—and wound in a sheet even though it was September and it was freezing in the morning in Vienna. Apparently Russians were impervious to the cold, lucky them. She gave him a lazy smile as she shook her head, the kind of knowing look Dom could remember his mother giving him when he was young. I know better than you think I do. 

“Uh huh,” the girl nodded, arching her back into a stretch, his eyes on her legs as they retreated back under the sheet. “So…that’ll be what? About a month or so?” 

Dom shrugged, picking up his ancient leather jacket from the floor and tugged it on, eye already back on the clock. He was acutely aware that he had an intel meeting in fifteen minutes and the conversation they were skirting around was definitely not a ten minutes or less conversation. 

“Do you think I’m stupid or something? I saw your name on that list, the one in the papers,” the girl went on. “I know you’re leaving soon—the less than a month kind of soon, Dominic,” she said sharply. “At least do me the curtesy of breaking it off like a man.” Before Dom could answer, she let out an irritable laugh. “Not that there’s anything to break off.” 

Dom hated that he’d agreed. It’s not that he hadn’t been interested in Ana—in fact, the first time she’d come to watch drill with her brother, one of Dom’s men, Dom had missed almost every target he’d aimed for. She was like that—completely distracting to everyone around her. Which is why Dom had rationed his time with her carefully, refusing to be pulled into her orbit when he had work, drill, and everything else to deal with. 

But that had been a year ago. It was insane to think about how fast the time had flown—how, in twelve short months, he’d gone from a company man to…whoever he was now. A version of himself that would now be boarding a shuttle craft to a space station of which he never had, even for a g-ddamn second, wanted to visit, much less become a citizen.

He should’ve known Mia would try to drag him up there with her. On an intellectual level, he felt for the girl—she was young, she’d be alone after she’d always been surrounded by family or maids or security guards…it was going to be a lot at once. When she’d told him he passed the background check, he’d been floored because he had been absolutely certain that something from his past, any of the million things he’d been able to keep from the Manz family, would rear its ugly fuckin’ head. It wouldn’t have taken a lot to catch it—some malware on his computer, a tapped phone, someone following him to the woods for drill. 

But they hadn’t. 

And now they wouldn’t. New computer, new phone, it was as simple as that. He’d had to sacrifice a few men when the Bishop kid had asked for his men’s information after he’d been brought into the fold of the trustworthy, but he’d managed to get a hold of forged papers for the ones who really mattered. That was one of the advantages of being the nameless, faceless help of the royal family wearing the same ugly, ill-fitting uniform—almost complete anonymity. For the ones who couldn’t afford fake paperwork, Dom made the rounds with the right bribes—minor crimes were easy to expunge if you went to the home office and asked the right kind of desperate secretary with the right kind of ‘aw shucks’ smile. 

About the only person Dom had realized he wouldn’t be able to fool was Mia. He didn’t deal with her parents enough for them to know the rest of her detail by name, nonetheless face, but Mia would notice if, once they landed on Exodus, Blaine randomly started going by Blake and Reed suddenly started speaking with a Turkish accent. A series of strategic firings and rehirings took place right before the announcement, a shuffling of people from the King’s detail to the Princess’s…the kind of changes so small that they mostly flew under the radar and could be dismissed with a light explanation but significant enough under the surface that Dom had felt like he’d really accomplished something. 

That something being he’d gotten the right men on the roster to go to Exodus. He didn’t love deceiving the princess. He had known her since she was nine, after all, nothing but blonde hair and boundless energy and smiles for literally everyone she encountered. When he’d been sixteen, full of angst and frustrated for being mocked for his Virginian accent, he had resented following around a little girl who practically danced from room to room, a little girl who was showered with a kind of praise and admiration and gifts that Dom had never seen before. Even though his job had been pretty insignificant when he started on her detail—double checking itineraries and being first-in and last-out of rooms she was entering and exiting (“bait” for booby-trapped assassination attempts)—he found himself less bothered by her as he grew. Mia bugged all of her guards to tell her their birthdays and made elaborate cards covered in glue and glitter which she presented with a smirky kind of pride. A few times she’d “slipped” and fallen into the lake on the grounds, splashing around until Dom or one of the other men jumped in after to save her, only to be met with giggles and splashing. 

Dom knew it had probably been lonely for her, growing up in a castle with no siblings, constantly followed around by men who’d typically rather be doing anything else. He was just growing out of his angsty teenage years when she began them. He remembered once, shortly after his twentieth birthday—he’d been second to only her bodyguard at that point—she’d chucked a boot at him with all of her twelve-year-old strength because he’d chuckled when he caught her lip-syncing in her room. There were a handful of years where she’d done her best to ditch the detail at every opportunity, leading to shouting matches between Dom and his father over whether or not a fourteen year old girl should have to have a twenty-one year old man wait for her outside of the bathroom. There had been more than one instance of her tossing a sparkling fruit drink in his face (she was too young for champagne, thankfully—alcohol in the eyes was fuckin’ painful), the time she’d tricked him into thinking her bathroom window was broken and then locked him inside and gone to the city on her own. There’d been a time, when he was twenty-three and finally scored his first real girlfriend, that a particularly ornery sixteen year old Mia had invited her to tea at the castle and proceeded to tell her every embarrassing thing Dom had ever done—the times he’d fallen down the stairs, sneezed loudly in the middle of an important meeting, managed to get a bloody nose while supervising a brunch with the Duchess of Cambridge. 

And then suddenly, without warning, she was seventeen and didn’t look like a little girl anymore. Without a sign it was happening, Dom was one day chastising a child for trying to ditch her detail, accepting a hug from a sobbing, guilty nine year old…and the next day he was trying to persuade a headstrong woman to listen to advice that he himself would never have taken. He’d gone from tripping over books sprawled across her bedroom floor as she complained about having to go to events to plucking glasses of wine and flutes of champagne out of the hand of the girl who’d once hated those same damn events only years earlier. Even though she was still tiny, he could not, in good conscious, pick her up and throw her over his shoulder when she’d tried to take off on him. He couldn’t yell at her for risk of her yelling back. On at least one occasion, Dom had had to not-so-subtly threaten the Prince of Monaco with bodily harm when Dom had found him attempting to scale the terrace a few doors down from Mia’s room. 

And now that Mia was grown up, the fact that he was lying to her practically every day had grown more difficult. When she was younger, it hadn’t bothered him…but now, when he felt like she had at least a decent read on whether or not he was bullshitting her, he had to be careful. He stuck to the truth as much as he could and took sick days when he knew he wouldn’t be able to get away with lying about why he had a black eye or why her detail had been shuffled around. He was glad he didn’t need to make up a girlfriend when he started using that an excuse for working fewer night shifts—even if he was rarely with Ana those nights, the fact that Mia knew Ana existed at least made the lie seem more likely than some random excuse. 

And now here he was, standing in Ana’s room, listening as she told him off for the last year worth complaints she’d been holding in—that he was never around, that he was always working, that he was just going to fuck off to Exodus and not tell her until it was too late. Deep down, Dom truly did care about Ana, truly did care that he had hurt her, and truly did think he would miss her once he’d fucked off to space. But in that moment, as he heard the words it’s over fly out of her lips, spiked with vitriol and contempt, all Dom could think:

  Fuck. There goes my alibi.

Hank Azaria opens up about speaking Ladino and his latest TV role By Curt Schleier. April 13, 2017 Actor Hank Azaria is known for his portrayal of an array of characters — most notably voicing Moe, Chief Wiggum and Apu on “The Simpsons.” While he may be best known for his work on the long-running animated classic, Azaria, of course, has had a successful career in TV and film, with roles as varied as journalist Michael Kelly in “Shattered Glass” to the title role in Showtime’s “Huff” to voicing the villain Gargamel in “The Smurfs” movie. His friends call him “the freakish mimic.” And Azaria, 52, has a comfort zone, of sorts. “I certainly feel most at home with Jewish characters,” he recently told JTA in a telephone interview. There was producer Al Freedman in the Academy Award-winning film “Quiz Show”; Mordechai Anielewicz, a leader of the Warsaw Ghetto revolt, in the TV movie “Uprising,” and the tortured composer Marc Blitzstein in “The Cradle Will Rock.” “These are real people who resisted power, and I feel a responsibility to portray them as honestly as I can,” Azaria said. “And yes, there’s a certain pride in portraying your own heritage. But I’m a character actor who plays every nationality and all walks of life.” That’s a talent he has certainly demonstrated on “The Simpsons.” Almost from its beginning 28 years ago, Azaria has been one of the show’s most prolific voice actors, with over a dozen characters in his wheelhouse. That remarkable range has earned him four Emmy nominations and two wins. His “Simpsons” voices are an important part of his arsenal. At a 2016 commencement speech at Tufts, his alma mater, he provided sage advice in the voice of several characters, including Chief Wiggum (“If a cop even thinks you’re going to throw up in the back seat, he will immediately let you go”) and Comic Book Guy (“Life is like the ‘Star Wars’ movies. Some of it is great. Some of it sucks. But you have no choice but to sit through all of it”). Mimicking people and accents is something he’s been doing since childhood. Azaria was raised in New York City, in the borough of Queens, and his parents were descendants of Sephardic Jews from Salonika, Greece. Ladino was spoken around the home. “I understood it and still do, and there was a time in my teenage years I was pretty fluent,” he said. Though his family was “aggressively unobservant,” Azaria said — “the closest I came was Friday night services at camp” — he was tutored as a bar mitzvah. Did hearing a foreign language at home facilitate his mimicking abilities? “I don’t think so,” he said. “It was one of many accents I heard. What affected me more was New York City, being in a melting pot.” “My sisters grew up in the same environment, but neither [do voices]. Either you’re born with the ear and vocal cords or you’re not. I thought everybody could do Bugs Bunny.” While Azaria may be best known for his off-screen voices, Azaria’s latest project is “Brockmire,” a new live-action sitcom on IFC in which he plays the title role. Azaria created the character for a “Funny or Die” video six years ago. “One of my favorite [of the voices in my head] was the generic baseball announcer voice I heard in the ’70s growing up,” he said. “It wasn’t distinctive like Phil Rizzuto. It was this generic announcer voice you associate more with hacks or how they sold Ginsu knives or Ronco products.”“I found that voice fascinating. I wondered if that guy talks like that all the time, and that was the comic basis for the character.” The short “got such a good response on ‘Funny or Die,’ we thought ‘this thing’s got legs,'” he said. Azaria and writer Joel Church-Cooper first tried to develop it as a film, but ultimately decided it “might actually work better as a cable series that gave us the freedom to curse and to be really salty with the whole thing.” The show begins with a flashback. Ten years earlier, Jim Brockmire handled play-by-play duties for the Kansas City Royals. He was the youngest announcer ever in Major League Baseball and had the admiration of his peers. Then he returned home unexpectedly and found his wife in, well, a very delicate situation with several neighbors. What made it worse — as Brockmire describes in a drunken, obscenity-laden and very funny on-air meltdown — the group included his next-door-neighbor, Bob Greenwald, and “I was just at his son’s bar mitzvah.” Unable to find work in the States post-freakout, Brockmire has spent the past decade roaming the globe, finding announcing assignments where he can, notably calling cockfights in Manila. He’s been lured back to the U.S. by Jules (Amanda Peet), who owns the failing Morristown (Pennsylvania) Frackers, a minor league team named for the energy extraction method that gives the town its pungent aroma. Jules feels if she can save the team, she can save the town. Meanwhile, computer illiterate Brockmire is unaware that his meltdown went viral — that “keeping it Brockmire” had become a synonym for “keeping it real.”Azaria inhabits Brockmire like a second skin. While the character might not be Jewish, he does get some Jewish-themed quips: After a long home run, for example, he notes, “That ball can’t be buried at a Jewish cemetery because it just got tattooed.” While the show is frequently raunchy, it resonates emotionally and intellectually. The fracking company that lent Jules money to buy the club wants her to fail so it can use the stadium as a wastewater pit. And when Jules discovers she’s pregnant, the topic of abortion also is addressed. For sports fans, there’s also the surprise pleasure of cameos by play-by-play announcers like Joe Buck and ESPN commentators. At its core, though, Brockmire is a story about relationships: There is Brockmire’s growing bond with the team’s young African-American social media intern Charlie (Tyrel Jackson Williams), who knows nothing about baseball or life, as well as Brockmire’s inevitable romance with Jules — two people who have made relationship mistakes in life, but may be on the verge of getting something right. Amid the laughs, it’s hard not to get vested in the three characters — and apparently IFC agrees. When I spoke to Azaria, before the show’s premiere, he told me the network had paid for the creative team to write a second season’s worth of scripts. A week later, IFC announced it had renewed the series. ‘Brockmire‘ airs at 10 p.m. Wednesdays on IFC. Jewish Telegraphic Agency http://www.jta.org/2017/04/13/arts-entertainment/hank-azaria-opens-up-about-speaking-ladino-and-his-latest-tv-role?utm_source=Newsletter+subscribers&utm_campaign=9c14111178-EMAIL_CAMPAIGN_2017_04_14&utm_medium=email&utm_term=0_2dce5bc6f8-9c14111178-28853825