#a quick one because I doubt Patrick can hold his breath for very long

[das-verlorene-kind]

🎃👻💀 Inktober Day 27 💀👻🎃

I’ve reached the last page of my sketchbook! It took me a little over a year to complete it, but either way, it feels like an achievement!

I decided that since Merpeterick were on the first page, I would end the sketchbook with the two of them on the last page as well. And don’t worry - they’re still very much in love.💕

[bonscottintheimpala]

Can I make a request if it’s still open?💖what about something like y/n wants to seduce jimmy in the most effective way but she’s lost and asks other members of Led Zeppelin to give her tips and carry them out?😂 the result could be anything, like, some in vein others did great jobs, or he finds the attempts adorable, or he gets jealous or anything.

I think I did this already, so I'll copy and paste. 🙂

-

Moby Dick Is A Wonderful Song

(Word count: 1,567) EXPLICIT

-

You're with the band at the venue in Inglewood. It's March 27, the night of the band's final concert of the ‘75 tour. Tensions are pretty high in their dressing room; you can almost feel the anxiety and simultaneous excitement thick in the air. But, sitting on a sofa in the middle of the dressing room, you're distracted from the loud voice of Peter Grant shouting the time left before the show starts and Bonzo clashing on a tabletop by one very specific thing in the room.

Jimmy had come in slightly late, already wearing his dragon suit bottoms but not the top. And, of course, he had decided to put the intricately embroidered jacket on after you came into the room with Robert ten minutes earlier. You can't take your eyes off of the lean muscles moving over his shoulders as he takes off his shirt, tensing and relaxing when he replaces it with the dragon suit top. You jump when someone bumps your shoulder, and turn to find Robert giving you a knowing smirk.

"You aren't being very vague about that, (Y/N),” he teases, “If he was looking over here he'd tell that you were checking him out.”

You roll your eyes and smack him on the arm. “Shut up, Rob. If he was looking over here, I wouldn't be watching his back and dying about it. And besides, he doesn't really give off the air of being interested.”

“I've known him for a while. Trust me, (Y/N), he can look like he isn't interested even if he's just itching to get with someone.”

You sigh and turn back to Jimmy. He's sitting in a chair in the far left corner of the dressing room with his Les Paul in hand, tuning the strings carefully as not to break one. You notice his eyes flicker up to look at you for a fraction of a second, then he's back to his guitar. You know that Robert's right. You've only really known the band for two years, and Percy has been around Jimmy for a little over six. You're pretty sure the singer knows his bandmate well enough by now to understand how the guitarist works. Robert nudges you again to get your attention. The smirk is back on his face.

"I have an idea to see if he's into you. We try to be really cuddly and all that shit around him. Hopefully it annoys him enough to get him to do something.”

You raise an eyebrow, questioning the proposition. “Won't he think that I like you that way, though?”

Percy waggles his finger at you. “Yet another thing to tell you. If he wants someone and they don't seem interested, he'll end up letting them know that he's the interested one. Again, (Y/N), I've known him for a while.”

Yet another point well made. “Okay, then. How do we go about this? Just pretend that you're saying something risque to me and I laugh like a fucking idiot?”

"Exactly. Then at Moby Dick, you come back here and best case scenario he follows you, too.”

The plan seems to be working perfectly, because after a few moments of exchanging stories to make you laugh and Robert puts an arm around you, he brings his mouth closer to your ear. “Don't look now, but Jimmy just stared at me like he wanted to kill me. So safe to say it’s going very well.”

You nod. “So I’ll come back here right before Moby Dick?”

"It’d be a good idea to go back earlier. Maybe when he starts his solo during Trampled Underfoot. I'll tell him where you'll be and I'm sure he's going to come straight here.”

The two of you just knowingly smile at each other. Jimmy is actually into you.

-

It feels like ages until the solo of Trampled Underfoot finally starts. You and Robert had secretly decided on a signal for you to go back to the dressing room; he'd do his usual hair flip, but follow it instantly with a spin. Which, of course, was not exactly a major surprise. You've been watching the singer since there song started, hardly even blinking. Once he gives the signal, you practically run for the dressing room, but not before you just catch Jimmy looking at you as you do.

The wailing of Jimmy's guitar slowly fades when you get closer to the room, and it's completely silent once the door is closed behind you. It's kind of eerie; the lack of people and no hint of music gives you goosebumps that make you shiver. It's either that, or the anticipation of Jimmy hopefully joining you, but it's almost impossible to tell which. You lounge on the sofa where you had been sitting with Robert at least an hour and a half -maybe even two hours- earlier. Staring up at the ceiling is all you can really think of doing other than just pacing around.

If I'm just walking everywhere looking at things like I don't know what the fuck I'm doing, I'll look like a dumbass, you think to yourself as you keep your ears trained on the hallway outside, listening for any hint of footsteps that could be coming close. And then, after what seems like hours have passed, you can faintly hear the sound of someone almost sprinting down towards the dressing room door. Your heart starts to pound in your chest the louder they get, and it all comes to a stop when the door opens. Standing there, his long black hair sticking to his sweat soaked face, is James Patrick fucking Page.

Neither of you say anything for a minute, just stare at each other with wide eyes. Jimmy’s the first to talk.

“So…. Percy told me you’d be back here.”

"And did he say why?”

The guitarist steps forward so he can close the door behind him, still watching you. “He did. You two were pretty fucking sly about all that.” You stand up and can’t keep your breath from shaking as he gets closer and stands in front of you. “He didn’t, however, say exactly what the reason was for you to be back here.”

"I guess he thought it’d be nice to give us some time together. To just confirm if you actually do like me.”

"Do you think I’d be here if I didn’t? And after all,” he adds, his voice now slipping into a smooth and sweet tone that makes your breath hitch, “You know exactly what Bonzo’s drum solo gives time for. And which is why Rob will come here to let us know when it’s getting time for me to go back so I don’t miss anything.”

You nod before you start to move the dragon suit top from his shoulders with shaking hands. He notices because he asks, “Are you really sure you want to do this, (Y/N)?”

You laugh. “You have no idea how much. I'm mostly shaking because I'm so surprised you even came here.”

Jimmy holds your face. “We’ve taken up five minutes.” Your stomach goes light and your head seems to be an incoherent mess of thousands of words when Jimmy presses his lips to yours. The contrasting textures between his fingers is just as intense; the rough calluses on the fingertips of right hand tingle your skin as they trail up your spine under your shirt, while the opposite smooth of his left hand slide gently along your lower back.

It isn’t long until everything gets heavier. Your clothes are strewn on the rug covered concrete floor below the sofa, while Jimmy is on top of you with his hand between your legs. It’s obvious that he’s extremely skilled in the art of fingering, and you’re convinced without a doubt that it’s because of how much he’s played guitar.

He’s drawing out loud cries of his name from your mouth and has your legs shaking from the flow of sharp vibrations down from somewhere deep in your core that make the muscles below your stomach pulsate at a steadily faster pace.

And then everything is surging in strong waves out from the spot his fingers are inside of you and through your entire body.

The trembling that follows each flow of energy through you eases down to just intermittent aftershocks and then completely breathless relaxation that leaves your head light and eyes closed. You can’t help but only smile and sigh as Jimmy kisses you again with a sweet softness which makes your heart flutter. The guitarist turns his head towards the door as a knock echoes from the other side.

“Bonzo’s gonna be done in probably five minutes, Pagey, you should get in order and backstage as quick as possible.”

"Okay, Percy, I’ll be out in a bit.”

You open your eyes to look back up at him. “I think I’m actually calmed down enough to tell you that you’re very good with your fingers. Absolutely fucking incredible, I couldn’t even think straight for I don’t even know how long.”

Jimmy kisses your forehead before getting off of you and starting to redress. “And you’re quite loud, (Y/N). I’m glad I could satisfy so well.”

You sit up and pick your clothes up off the floor and begin to get somewhat presentable. “Would it be possible to continue after the concert back at the hotel?”

Jimmy shrugs the dragon suit top back on. “I think that’s a great idea that I will agree with. Now let’s get back to everyone else. And make sure to stay calm until we’re at the hotel.”

[flowerfan2]

The Lucky Customer

Schitt’s Creek, David x Patrick, 1600 words, A03

Summary:  What if after the events of Love Letters (S05E02), David and Patrick find out that the person who robbed their store was more dangerous than he had seemed?

******

Patrick knocks on the door of David’s motel room, shoving his hands in his pockets as he waits.  

A shy smile spreads across David’s face as he opens the door.  “Hello,” he says, cocking his hip. “To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?”

Patrick accepts David’s brush of a kiss on his cheek as he walks in and glances around the room.  “Is your family around?”  He thought he had seen the rest of the Roses at the Café when he walked by, but he wants to make sure.  

“No,” David says, shaking his head a little.  “Clearly not.  What’s going on?”  

David still has on his black and white cardigan from earlier, and Patrick reaches out and fiddles with the edge, drawing David closer to him.  “It’s okay, it’s just…” He’s not sure how to say it.

David is going to be upset, and Patrick hates to be the one to upset him.  But Patrick’s already upset himself, and he wasn’t about to let the Elmdale police, as mild-mannered as they are, barge into David’s bedroom.

“Patrick?”

He braces himself and looks David in the eye.  “The cops caught the guy who robbed our store.”

A look of embarrassment flashes over David’s face.  “Oh, so now it’s really a robbery?” David snips, trying to cover his surge of emotion.  “I thought you figured he was just a lucky customer?”

“Yeah, no, well,” Patrick trails off and moves to sit on David’s bed.  “Come sit down.”

“I’m fine here, thanks very much,” David says, arms wrapped around his own waist.  He won’t meet Patrick’s eyes, his gaze flitting around the room.

Patrick feels sick to his stomach.  He made light of what happened today, and made fun of how David reacted.  He went further than that, frankly, and let David know in no uncertain terms that he was annoyed at how he handled the situation.  Now, he’s got to fix it.

Even though Patrick teases David all the time, he is starting to understand that sometimes he can go too far.  From the way David looks right now, it’s abundantly clear that this is one of those times.

“The guy robbed another store this afternoon, in Elmdale,” Patrick says.

“Really?”

“Yeah, a jewelry store.”

“Moving up in the world, I suppose.”

“And he had a knife.”

David’s eyes flash up to Patrick’s.  “What?”

“He had a knife.”  Patrick gets up and goes to David, taking his hand.  David has gone pale, and doesn’t resist as Patrick leads him over to the bed.  “The cops want you to come down to the station and identify him.”

“He had a mask on,” David says, his voice quiet.  “I’m no help.”

“They figure maybe you will recognize his voice.”

David doesn’t say anything, and Patrick puts his arm around his shoulders, tugging him close.

“He really had a knife?”  David says finally.  “Did, um, did anyone get hurt?”

This is the worst part.  “Yes.  The woman working at the jewelry store.  She wouldn’t give the guy anything, she just started screaming.  Then he shoved her up against the wall and cut her.”

David is trembling.  “Where?”

“Her face.”

David turns to him, a hand flying up to his own cheek.  “Patrick…” His eyes are wide and shocked.  “Oh my god.  Is she okay?”

“She’s at the hospital, they wouldn’t tell me anything else.”  Patrick wraps his arms around David and holds him close.  “I’m so sorry I doubted you today.  You did the right thing, David.”

“Oh my god,” David says again, and Patrick hugs him tighter.  “What if… what if he had a knife when he was at the store today?”

“He couldn’t have.  You said he used both hands to carry his bags out of the store.”

“But – it could have been in his pocket?”  David is taking shaky breaths, and Patrick rubs his back as he struggles to regain his composure.

“David, you stayed calm, you got him out of the store, and you kept everyone safe.  That’s all that matters.”  

“You didn’t think so earlier,” David says, and there’s a tinge of pain in his voice.  “All you cared about was the insurance money, and whether we were stupid enough to upsell a thief.”

“I was wrong.”  Patrick pulls back and looks David in the eye.  “I was wrong, and I’m sorry.”

“Well,” David twists his head and looks up, then back to Patrick.  “That’s all right, then.”

Patrick slides up the bed and David goes with him.  They arrange themselves against the pillow, Patrick on his back and David nestled against him, heads close.  David tucks his knee over Patrick’s leg, his skirted pants getting in the way of David’s attempt to wrap himself completely around Patrick.

Patrick rubs his hand up and down David’s side, down from his shoulder along his arm and back up again, and kisses his forehead.  

“How did you even find out about this?”  David asks.

“The Elmdale cops came to the store just after you left, when I was finishing up closing.”  Patrick cups his hand over David’s face, runs his thumb over his cheekbone, and pushes away the image of a knife slashing David’s skin.  “They scared me.  I had to come find you.”

“They scared you?”  David pushes back to look at him, indignant.  “The cops?  What did they do?”

Patrick shakes his head.  “No - they didn’t do anything.  But thinking about what could have happened this morning, if things had gone differently… that scared me.”  

David presses his lips together and pulls Patrick against him.  “Good thing I was such a quick thinker.  Not everyone would offer a robber a selection of carefully curated fine wines and cheeses.”

“I thought Stevie offered him the cheese,” Patrick says into David’s sweater.

“I am willing to give her the credit for that part of our strategy, yes,” David replies. He breathes out a long sigh.  “Does this mean we have to go to Elmdale tonight?”

Patrick rolls over, and David keeps his arm around his waist, so he doesn’t fall off the bed.  They’re perfecting this twin bed thing.  It’s kind of great, since it means they have their hands all over each other whenever they’re in it.

“Yeah, I’m afraid so.”

David hums.  “You think we could get dinner at that Thai place afterwards?  The one with the good satays?”

Patrick turns and looks at David, pretending to think it over.  “I suppose you might deserve a treat after a day like today, sure.”

“We might even call it heroic, no?” David asks, a smile twisting his lips.

“Now who’s cocky?”  Patrick asks, flattening his palm against David’s chest.  He likes when David wears cardigans and he can feel the heat of his body through the thin fabric of his t-shirt underneath.  It’s as close as David gets to showing some skin.

“Don’t start something you’re not willing to finish,” David says, shifting closer to Patrick and pressing into his touch, clearly indicating where his interest lies. “And keep in mind, Alexis will be back from dinner soon.”

“I could text the cop and tell him we’ll come in tomorrow morning,” Patrick says, rolling his hips against David.

“Is that an option?”

“I told them I’d try to find you,” Patrick breaks off as David flicks his tongue against his neck and then starts to suck a kiss into his skin.  “But, you know, maybe I couldn’t…”

“It’s a big town,” David says, shifting to lie on top of Patrick, his body a delicious weight holding Patrick down against the bed.  “I could be anywhere.”

“Hmm, yeah, true…” Patrick tries to lose himself in the feel of David surrounding him, but the thought of David being attacked by the robber keeps intruding.  Ever since the cop told him about the jewelry store manager, he hasn’t been able to stop thinking <i>what if that had been David.</i>

“Honey?”  Ever attuned to Patrick, David sits up, his knees on either side of Patrick’s waist, his skirt rucked up.  “Are you okay?”

David puts his hands on Patrick’s shoulders as if they belong there, and Patrick presses his eyes together.  He’s really not okay.

“C’mere,” David says, sliding back down to Patrick’s side and pulling him close.  “I’m fine.  Stevie’s fine.  I bet that cretin didn’t even have a knife on him this morning.  That was just his afternoon outfit.  We were perfectly safe.”

“We’re getting an alarm system for the store,” Patrick says.  He’s not sure how that would have helped, but maybe having one of those little stickers on the window would be a deterrent.

“Okay.”

“And you’re taking a self-defense course.”

Patrick can feel David suppressing a giggle, but he agrees anyway.  “Okay.  Whatever you want.  We can bring Stevie, too.  She’d like that.”

Patrick kisses David, needing to taste him, warm and alive and heavy in his arms.  David returns the kiss sweetly, all thoughts of a quickie pushed aside.

“I love you,” David whispers, and a shiver runs through Patrick.  It still feels new when David says it, earnest and out of the blue.

“I love you too,” he says, holding David close.  “So much.  I’m the lucky one.”

David huffs a soft laugh.  “You are.  I mean, you can have our wine and cheese whenever you want.  You don’t need to wear a mask or anything.  I’ll even give you the special goat gouda.”

Patrick laughs and captures David’s mouth in another kiss.  “You’re right.  Now that I have the best around, there’s nothing I want more.”  

He feels David melt against him, touched by his words.  Patrick kisses him again, deep and sure, because it’s true.  He’s not going to think about how David could have been taken from him today.  Instead, he’s going to focus on how incredibly fortunate he is to have David in his life, and do everything he can to make sure David never forgets it.  

[non-binary-bi-fanperson]

Save Fall Out Boy

Summary: Gender neutral reader’s POV, you are a cop at the police station in which Fall Out Boy is taken in YBC after Joe is killed and you get involved.

Warnings: Character death, violance

Wordcount: 3265

A/N: This is my first fanfiction I’ve ever written, so please be gentle with the criticism. Also, English is not my first language, so sorry for any grammatical errors. Enjoy! 🖤🖤 (GIF’s not mine)

‘James and Frank are at the scene with the murderer and two witnesses, all three of them have several injuries, ambulance will take care of it, please, make everything ready for the interrogation,’ my boss told me hurriedly not long after we got a phone call from a desperate man from an abandoned hospital near the police station where I work.

Not long after that, James and Frank arrived with the three guys and I couldn’t believe my eyes. I know them. Well, as much as anybody else who likes their music. It was Patrick, Pete, and Andy from Fall Out Boy. They’re missing a band member. Is it possible that…? 

While Pete and Andy were carried away I had to stay with Patrick and my colleague, Frank and we tried to force that hook down which was attached to his left arm, right where his hand should had been. We can’t let him in to the cell with a potential weapon in - or in this case instead of - his hand now, can we? It hurt him; I could tell that, he was screaming in pain and hell, was it really attached to him, like it was burnt there or something. Damn, what have these guys been through?

Patrick was in his cell; literally the most innocent member of the band was accused with murder. What the hell is going on? My boss sent me to help James interrogating the other musicians and right when I was about to open the door, James burst out of the room, looking furious.

‘They’re a bunch of psychos, what they say makes no sense at all,’ he said to me, trying to control his anger, failing miserably. 

‘I suppose you were the bad cop with all your usual shouting, so trust me, maybe they just need some nice words and a good cop,’ I smiled at him, patting his back and going into the room.

Andy and Pete looked at me and then back at the table right in front of them. I took a seat on the chair which now was too far from the table; probably James tossed it away during one of his not-so-uncommon outbursts. 

‘Gentlemen,’ I started trying to stay professional since this whole thing was way too serious. I mean, a person just died, I can’t allow my fan-self to take over. ‘Please, tell me everything you saw, don’t let the fact that the accused is a friend of yours cloud your judgment.’

They just sat there in complete silence. I was patient, maybe they just needed time to think about a proper sentence. I waited one minute, then five, then ten more and they still haven’t said a word.

‘Gentlemen, please, we need as many details as possib-‘ I started calmly but I was cut off by a really angry Andy.

‘We just told every fucking detail to the other cop and he straight up called us crazy, what do you expect?’ In the heat of the moment the drummer even stood up and slammed his hands on the table which made me and Pete flinch.

‘Andy, please sit back down,’ Pete said. Somehow he remained calm. ‘He’s right though,’ he continued now looking at me. ‘We did tell everything and your colleague didn’t believe us, why would we make a fool out of ourselves again? Why would you believe us?’

‘Try me, I’m very open-minded,’ I told him with a small smile on my face which made him relax a little.

And they told me everything. How they had been kidnapped by a bunch of girls, how they drugged them, how they managed to escape and what happened in that hospital, everything. Honestly, when they got to the part where Patrick had yellow eyes and acted like he was possessed, I kind of doubted them, but looking in their eyes, I could tell they weren’t lying. I could feel it.

‘Okay, let’s make one thing clear,’ I said. ‘So when Patr- I mean Mr. Stump heard the music, he became this yellow-eyed demon thing, right?

‘Yes,’ Pete and Andy both nodded.

‘But… How could he just become a demon? Don’t you need to be possessed by one? And when it happens, doesn’t it take over your entire body all the time?’ I asked a bunch of questions in my confusion, I got to admit, I probably wasn’t acting so professional but I needed answers. ‘Or was Supernatural just a lie?’

Pete chuckled at my last question but Andy just stared at me which reminded me of the fact that I should be doing my job here. 

‘Alright, thank you for the cooperation, one of my colleagues will be here in a few minutes to inform you of further procedures,’ I said now more skillfully then I did before.

I was about to leave the room when Andy asked me something. ‘Wait, you believe us?’

As I looked back at him I could see the surprise in his eyes. Once again, with a small smile on my lips which I tried to hide but didn’t really succeed I answered him. ‘Well, as I said, I’m very open-minded.’ And with that, I exited the room.

Did I believe them everything? I don’t know. They were drugged, could have hallucinated half of it, and not to mention the whole emotional trauma this case could cause to them. But how they described it, it sounded too real, not like something a drugged person would hallucinate and they didn’t disagree on any of the details. If what they saw wasn’t reality at least on a tiny part of the story they would have corrected each other. But it didn’t happen, they were perfectly in sync. 

I let out a sigh while I was walking down a corridor which led me to the cell in which Patrick was. On my way there I grabbed a few paper towels; he probably needed it since he was still bleeding from a few cuts. When I was getting closer I heard him humming an unfamiliar tune, probably something from their upcoming album – if they’ll come up with another album after this. 

When I got to him, he just looked at me and then back at his hand in his lap. I couldn’t even imagine how much pain he had gone through. I mean he lost one of his hands, one of his bandmates, he’s accused of murder… 

‘Hey,’ I said in a soft tone and he looked back up at me. I was handing him the paper towels. ‘I figured you need them, you’re not in your best shape.’

‘Thanks:’ His voice only sounded like a little whisper and he gave me a weak smile when he took the towels and started wiping the blood off of his skin. 

‘Do you need anything?’ I offered. ‘Water, maybe some food? I think I can get you a sandwich or something.’

‘Why are you so nice? You’re playing the good cop now?’ he asked, his words just shouted sarcasm and irony at me.

I let out a small laugh. ‘You met James then, I suppose. No, I’m not playing the good cop as you said, I am the good cop in general. At least I’m trying to treat even the accused ones how they deserve to be treated. I don’t have to be nice to you though, I can stop whenever I want,’ I replied with a stern look, getting a little too harsh at the end.

He was just looking at me, didn’t say a word, a flash of regret could be seen in his eyes. I pitied him honestly. He seemed such a nice guy throughout the media and I couldn’t imagine who and why would have done such horrible and unbelievable things to him and the band. 

‘Look,’ I started, less sharply this time, ‘I’ve heard the whole story, and-‘ 

I was cut off by him saying ‘And now you think we’re crazy, amazing. Listen,’ he stood up and walked to the bars, now being closer to the spot where I was standing, ‘everything they told you is true. Everything. You got to believe us, I’m not a murderer, it wasn’t truly me, believe me. Please.’

He was so desperate, his bluish eyes were full of fear, despair, and pain. I could understand him, though. I couldn’t feel it but I definitely could understand. 

‘I believe you,’ I said looking into his eyes.

‘What?’ he asked in confusion and disbelief. ‘Alright, I know I just asked you to believe me, but how can you believe me? Even I think I’m crazy’

I had to force back a smile. ‘I just do, okay? And calm down, we’re going to figure something out, we just have to-‘ I stopped in the middle of my sentence because I heard footsteps. Several footsteps, to be exact, probably three pairs, two made by… High heels? What the…? 

My boss arrived with two women on his side. Wait a minute. The girls looked just like Andy and Pete described their kidnappers. Their long hair was in tight ponytails, all black clothing, leather jackets… My boss opened the door for Patrick’s cell and grabbed him, dragging him out of there, even though he protested and tried to stay with all his strength, screamed, shouted from the top of his lungs, begged me to help him. I tried, but one of the girls pinned me against the wall, holding a knife to my throat. 

‘We don’t want to hurt you,’ she hissed. ‘We only need him.’ With her head she nodded towards Patrick, who was still dragged by my boss. Looking at them, I noticed two 100$ notes in my boss’s pocket. Son of a bitch.

When they turned at the end of the corridor, the girl let me go and ran after them. As soon as I could, I followed them and arrived just on time to see the women force Patrick into a car. Lucky me, I have good eyes and quick mind so I could see the plate of the car and memorized it.

I ran to the room where I left Pete and Andy only to find them gone with only a piece of paper on the table which had an address on it. I didn’t know if I should go to that address or run the plate of the car in which Patrick was taken. The address could have been a trap for the bass player and drummer, but it also could have been a safe place.

I decided to take chances and find out where the car must have gone. After a few minutes, thanks to the traffic cameras, I could find it. I got into my own car and took a deep breath before I started it. I hope I won’t find anyone murdered… 

When I got to that older building which had the previously seen car parked in front of it, I hesitated. I know, it’s not so professional but I wasn’t doing the job for so long and it was way out of my league. I mean come on, brainwashing and demonic stuff? That’s not what a regular cop goes after. But I knew that somebody had to save those guys and since I couldn’t see anyone else who even considered helping, I felt like it was my duty.  

I managed to get into the building which wasn’t so hard considering that no one was guarding it. The tough part was not getting caught inside. I went by a room in which at least a dozen of girls were destroying instruments rhythmically slamming their hammers at them. Fortunately no one saw me. They all wore similar clothes as the women at the station and they had the same hairstyle. 

At the end of the corridor there was a locked door and I could have sworn that I heard a scream along with other noises from inside. So with a hairpin I picked the lock and slowly opened the door, careful not to make any noise in case some of the girls are in there. But no, it was only Patrick, tied to a chair, sitting calmly and staring at a brick wall with weird videos and pictures projected on it. 

I ran up to him and immediately tried to free his hand from the grip of the rope only to hear him growl at me. I looked up at his face and looked into his eyes and I couldn’t believe what I saw. They were yellow. So everything was true. Every crazy detail I was told, all of it were true. Not that I didn’t believe them but knowing about it and seeing it are two completely different things.

After I recovered from the mini-shock I just had, I realized that if I let Patrick out in this state, he would kill me. So I tried the only rational thing which came in my mind. I shut down the projector and looked deeply in the singer’s eyes. ‘Patrick,’ I started softly but desperately knowing that any of the girls could come in any moment, ‘please, you need to listen to me. It’s not you, Patrick. You have to fight this, alright?’ He just stared at me, I wasn’t even sure that he understood anything. I continued anyway, this time little more hurriedly, probably because of the fear which started to take over me. ‘Come on Patrick, you’re not like this. You’re a little ball of sunshine, you polite everyone to death, even your haters. You need to turn back, your bandmates need you, your fans need you, everyone needs you, the real you.’

At the end of my mini-speech his eyes turned back to that unique shade of blue he had and it looked like he was himself again. ‘Good cop?’ he asked weakly, looking at me, blinking a few times like he wanted to make sure what he saw was real and I chuckled hearing my ‘name’. I could see that he was confused though, he probably didn’t even know where he was.

‘Yes, it’s me, I’m gonna get you out of here,’ I said reassuringly with my lips forming a huge grin and started to free his hands again. Right when his right hand escaped my smile fell because the door swung open and a bunch of women ran into the room. Three of them dragged me away from Patrick while both of us were shouting and screaming, desperately trying to escape. I tried to free myself but their grip was too strong and tight and by kicking one of them, I only made them angry and they held down my legs as well.

They restarted the projector and Patrick’s eyes turned yellow once again. For my surprise they didn’t held him captive anymore, they let him go but he didn’t move until one of them told him to follow her and he obeyed without any questions. 

Damn it. I tried to escape once again and only earned a pretty strong punch in the face leaving my mouth bleeding. They tossed me to the ground, turned me so I lay on my back and I felt a sharp pain in my stomach. They kicked me once more which made me groan and then they exited the room.

I brought my hand down to my stomach only to feel the sharp pain again when I touched it. And there was another thing that concerned me. A warm, sticky liquid. Blood. I needed a few moments to realize that I’ve been stabbed. Well, that’s not how I imagined my day.

I was thinking about practically everything. How I couldn’t save my favorite band, how probably Andy and Pete were dead by that time, how nobody was ever going to find me, how I would probably end up in a trashcan or in the backyard of someone’s house, so yeah, pretty optimistic thoughts. I couldn’t even call anyone given that those women took and smashed my phone.

I was accepting my death, feeling that I was losing more and more blood as time went by when the door unexpectedly opened again. I didn’t even bother to look there just after I heard a small ‘oh God’ which was followed by rapid footsteps. It was Andy. 

‘Pete, they’re still alive’ he shouted to the bassist and kneeled down next to me, my blood on the floor instantly soaking the fabric of his jeans. He tried to cover my wound, putting pressure on it to stop the bleeding which made me moan in pain. It hurt like hell, but they were trying to make it easier for me by telling me stuff like ‘everything is going to be okay’ and ‘we’re here to help’ and so on, but to tell you the truth, I didn’t believe it, I knew I was going to die, there was no way they could get me out in time.

‘Bullshit,’ I said and regretted it right at that moment because it sent a wave of pain through my entire body and made me cough up blood. Now that wasn’t a good sign.

‘Hey, easy on there,’ Pete said worriedly. It kind of surprised me that he was worried about me since we didn’t even know each other but still, it made me smile weakly.

‘Guys, there’s no way I’m gonna make it so listen,’ I started seriously but had to stop because I had to cough again. ‘They took Patrick, I guess to their leader who I think is upstairs so go, leave me, you can’t save me, save him and yourselves.’

They just looked at me, not moving a single muscle and I felt my eyelids getting heavier and I knew what was coming. I managed to whisper a last weak ‘Please’ right before the pain stopped and I wasn’t suffering anymore. I closed my eyes one last time. I was still conscious when I heard one of them – I couldn’t identify the voices anymore – ask ‘What was their name?’ and the other one just answered with a weak ‘I don’t know’. This is the last thing I remember from before I let the numb darkness take over me, and I didn’t regret anything I did that day.

‘So yeah, that’s my story I guess,’ I told to the man sitting in front of me with his big curly hair, wearing all white clothing. As a matter of fact, everything around us was white, even I wore white which I wouldn’t do normally. Who thought I was going to go to Heaven and meet Joe there. That’s right, the man in front of me was the lead guitarist of Fall Out Boy. 

‘That’s awesome,’ Joe grinned. ‘I mean, not the fact that you died, that sucks, but I always wondered what it’s like to be a cop,’ he explained quickly which made me laugh.

‘Yeah, well, I think not as great as you thought,’ I said kind of getting sad because that’s not how I imagined everything. I know it’s cliché, but I was young and had my whole life ahead of me. I suppose not anymore.

‘At least you came to Heaven. Don’t get me wrong, Hell is cool as well, but-‘ he was cut off by me shouting ‘Wait, what???’ in complete disbelief which just made him chuckle.

‘I guess it’s my turn to tell my story, isn’t it?’ he asked with once again a huge grin and it just put a smile on my lips as well.

A/N: That’s it, I hope you all enjoyed, have a nice day and take care!🖤🖤

[retrocelly]

I Didn’t Mean It (Nolan Patrick)

A/N: I changed up the request a little bit since I already wrote something similar to that with Tyler Seguin. I’m thinking of adding a second part, so if you want one, let me know!

Request: ooh could you pls do an imagine where you have a big fight w nolan patrick and he like picks on one of your insecurities and instantly regrets it? if you don’t wanna do nol you can honestly do whoever

Warnings: none, I think?

Word count: 1,810

     Nolan got out of practice around three, shooting you a text that he’d be bringing some of the boys over. You responded that you might be out to lunch with a friend, but it wasn’t long before those plans were canceled and you decided to just stay home. It would only be a few minutes before Nolan arrived with the boys anyway, so you figured you didn’t need to update him. You cleaned up the bedroom while you waited, wiping the windows and any dusty surfaces.

     It wasn’t long before you heard the familiar sound of your front door being opened followed by the loud ruckus that seemed to accompany the Flyers wherever they went. It was easy to make out the sound of Nolan’s deep voice as the group went into the living room. You headed into the hallway, about to hit the entryway of the living room when you heard your name. It was clearly a continuation of a conversation that had started earlier, and you were nosy. You stood frozen in the hall out of sight as you listened to your boyfriend speak.

     “Y’know what I mean, man?” Nolan spoke, “it’s like a different type of pretty.”

     “Eh, I don’t know,” Travis responded, “I mean if she’s pretty, that’s all there is to it. I don’t really differentiate.”

     You heard someone else mutter an agreement, but you couldn’t make out who it was.

     “Okay, it’s like this.” It was Nolan again. “I think Y/N is like the most beautiful girl in the world now. But when I first met her, I didn’t really think much.”

     What?

     “Like if I saw her in a club or something, I wouldn’t go up and talk to her. She’s not that kind of hot.”

     You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. That was your boyfriend, sitting on your living room couch, telling all of his friends that he wouldn’t have given you a second glance. It hurt. You knew that you weren’t necessarily the most beautiful girl in the world. You didn’t really fit in next to Claude’s wife or some of the other wags that you hung around, but that had never mattered before. Nolan had always made you feel appreciated and loved. Well, that was until right now.

     You heard some commotion after that - some more discussion about whether or not you were that beautiful, but you were frozen in place. You could feel the tears well in your eyes, your cheeks and ears growing hot with embarrassment. The only thing that broke your stance was a pair of feet coming into your vision, halting quickly in front of you.

     You looked up hesitantly and were met with the wide eyes of Travis. His mouth hung slightly open, clearly not knowing what to say or do. From the other room, you could hear Nolan mention something about how you weren’t the “love at first sight kind of beautiful.”

     “Nolan!” TK shouted, his eyes never leaving yours. “Shut up!”

     “What?” Nolan questioned, and you could hear him getting up.

     Your focus was broken as you made a run for it, fearing the humiliation of seeing anyone right now. Travis tried to stop you from leaving, but you were quick to dodge him, grabbing your keys and practically running out of the house. You could hear shouting from inside, but you didn’t wait to find out who it was. Your car was started and you were backing out of the driveway just as Nolan threw open the front door. You could see him jogging down the driveway to try and catch you, but you refused to meet his gaze through the rear view mirror as you drove away.

***

     It was two full days of you crying into your best friend’s couch and ignoring Nolan’s calls until he finally came knocking at the door. You sat against the door of her bedroom, tears falling freely down your cheeks as you listened to your friend yell at Nolan. He was mostly silent through the exchange, and you were glad. It meant that he knew he deserved to be yelled at. Finally, there was silence. Assuming that Nolan had given up and left, you forced yourself off of the ground and back into the living room. However, rather than your friend sitting alone on the couch, she was standing awkwardly near Nolan’s slumped figure.

     He was sitting on the couch - your makeshift bed for the past couple of days - with his head in his hands. In all the time you’d been with Nolan, you’d never seen him cry like the way he was now. You could see the sobs wrack through his body just as you heard them. Part of you wanted to go to him - to comfort him and tell him that everything would be okay. But the more sensible part of you couldn’t do that, because you didn’t know that everything would be okay. How were you supposed to trust Nolan again or feel comfortable around him after hearing what he’d said? So, much like you’d done only days earlier, you stood frozen in the hallway.

     Your friend gave you a wide-eyed stare, gesturing wildly for you to go back to the privacy of her room. Instead, her movements somehow caught Nolan’s attention; he must’ve seen them from the corner of his vision. He looked up immediately, meeting your gaze with bloodshot eyes. The time it took for him to stride over to you was not enough for you to turn and run - at least not with the way your brain was short-circuiting. Nolan’s hands found yours in an instant. The touch that you used find comforting now made you want to hide away. You pulled from his grasp quickly, not noticing the way his face contorted into sadness from the action.

     “Y/N,” he pleaded, his voice hoarse from crying, “I’m so stupid and I know that I don’t deserve it, but I just need you to hear me out. If you still hate me and never want to see me again, I understand, but please just listen to me.”

     You didn’t know how to respond, the view of your feet suddenly very interesting. Nolan took your silence for acceptance as he continued.

     “What I said- I didn’t mean it. I was being stupid and talking out of my ass, okay? The guys were all over me about how I’m ‘wrapped around your finger’- which is true, by the way - and I was just saying shit to try and get them off my back and oh my god I didn’t mean it.”

     Nolan’s normally calm, almost monotone voice was rushed and panicked. When you finally looked up at him, his eyes reflected that same distress.

     He shifted on his weight as the two of you stared at each other. You could tell he was waiting for you to speak, but you had nothing to say.

     “You have to believe me, Y/N,” he began again, fresh tears starting to fall onto his cheeks. You felt the warmth of his hands on either side of your face as your eyes also filled with tears.

     “Please, baby, I need you.” Nolan’s voice cracked at the end as he could no longer control his cries. “I need you and I love you. You’re the most beautiful woman in the world. You were the most beautiful woman in the world when I met you and you’ll still be the most beautiful woman in the world even when you’re 90 years old. I am so, so sorry for ever making you doubt that. I can’t believe that I even said what I did and I just wish that I could take it back. I love you, baby, please don’t leave me. Just one more chance, don’t leave.”

     Nolan was choking back full sobs, his hands holding onto you like he’d die if he let go. He searched your face for something, anything. Forgiveness, anger, hell - he’d even take a slap to the face. But instead all he was met with was your blank stare and teary eyes.

     “How are we supposed to be okay after that, Nolan?” The sound of your voice was enough to calm Nolan slightly, even if he didn’t like what you were saying.

     “What you said about me was horrible. Imagine the person that you love telling all their friends that they didn’t find you attractive. How would that make you feel? You know that I’m already a little insecure, and yet that’s what you chose to pick on. Whether or not you meant it, and for whatever reason you said it, I can’t un-hear it, Nolan. I can’t just forget that.”

     “I know you can’t forget it and I’m not asking you to,” he took a small step closer to you, “I’m just asking that you give me a chance to prove to you how much I love you. Just let me show you how sorry I am, we don’t have to jump back in if you don’t want to. Please, just come home. We can take it slow for a bit - I’ll even stay with Teeks if you want me to, until we’re back to normal. Let me make this right.”

     Nolan’s thumbs rubbed along your jaw as he stared at you with pleading eyes. You opened you mouth to speak, but you realized you didn’t know what to say. Your mouth closed again, and you gently shook your head, almost afraid that if the movement was too noticeable, it would be permanent.

     “No,” Nolan spoke, choking on his own breath, “no, please don’t leave me, I love you, please.”

     “I just need space for a bit, Nol.” Your voice was hardly above a whisper, and you were sure that he wouldn’t have heard it if he weren’t right in front of you.

     “I need to be able to have time to think about this. What you said really hurt me. I still love you, but I can’t trust you right now. Just let me have some time to figure this out on my own.”

     Nolan stayed frozen for a moment before he finally dropped his hands from your face and backed away from you. He gave a slow nod without meeting your gaze.

     “If time is what you need to figure this out, then that’s okay. I’ll be waiting to hear whatever you decide.” 

     He sounded defeated, but at least he had the hope that you still loved him and that you’d only asked for some space rather than a box full of all your things. With fallen shoulders, Nolan walked to the door of your friend’s apartment. Before he left, he turned to you one last time.

     “I love you so much, Y/N. You’re the most beautiful person in the world.”

Part 2

[waywardaardvark79]

No Strings Attached Part 9: Pies and Confessions

Summary: Your roommates old friend moves to town and the two of you quickly strike up a no strings attached relationship. How long will the two of you be able to hold up what was supposed to be a simple, uncomplicated arrangement?

Pairing: Dean X Reader

Warnings: language

A/N: Updates should be every few days. No set schedule.

      You rolled over in bed, and were strangely aware of the space you had to move, you patted your hand blindly around expecting to feel Dean's warm body but came up empty. You cracked open your eyes to see his side of the bed empty. You thought about getting up to go find him, but the allure of the warm bed all to yourself was too tempting, so you pulled the covers under your chin and snuggled into them, telling yourself that you would get up in a few more minutes.

 You must have fallen back to sleep because the next thing you knew Dean was gently shaking your shoulder, "Wakey, wakey eggs and bakey." he said, the corner of your mouth turning up into a smile.

 You blinked open your eyes, "Such a nerd, a cute nerd, but still a nerd." you said as you stretched your arms over your head. "What time is it?" you asked, before rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

 "Little after eleven." Dean replied. You shot up in bed, "After eleven. Why did you let me sleep so long? We've got a lot of stuff to do today." you said  as you started to get out of bed.

 Dean grabbed your arm,  "Just slow down a minute. I talked to Charlie this morning and she said she would go check on Martin and Bobby for you, so you don't have to worry about that." he said, gently pulling you back down into bed. "She also said that an apartment in Kaitlynn's building opened up, and she talked to the building manager. I got an appointment to go see it Monday." he said.

 "Well, you  just took care of everything I guess." you said as you adjusted a pillow and settled back against the headboard.

 "Technically Charlie did, but I'll take the credit if you want to give it to me. I was thinking maybe we could hang out here for  a few more hours and then hit the road." he said.

 "That's fine with me." you replied, your stomach rumbling loudly.

 "Hungry?" he asked with a smile. "Starving." you said, your stomach uttering another loud noise further proving your point. "Get dressed, and meet me in the kitchen." he said before placing a kiss to your forehead and standing up from the edge of the bed. You watched as he walked out of the room, and gave your muscles one last stretch before getting of bed and getting dressed.

          You walked into the kitchen to see Dean stirring something in a large bowl next to the stove, "Whatcha doin'?" you asked as you walked up behind him and wrapped your arms around his waist.

 "What's it look like?" he asked. You poked your head around him and stared down into the bowl, "Looks like a bowl of white goop to me." you said.

 Dean scoffed, "Pancakes. It's gonna be pancakes." he said as you walked around him and hoisted yourself up on the counter.

 "How was I supposed to know? You've never made me pancakes before." you argued. Dean raised an eyebrow at you, "Can't really make pancakes when the only thing you have at home is frozen dinners and Ramen noodles." he said.

 "Sorry, I'm not a chef." you deadpanned.

 "You do know how to make pancakes don't you?" he asked, the corner of his mouth turning up into a smile.

"Pfft...of course." you lied.

 "Y/N, I watched you burn toast last week." he said.

 You sighed, "Fine. I don't really do the whole cooking thing." you said with a shrug of your shoulders.

 "How have you survived?" he teasingly asked.

 "The microwave and me are real tight, then I've got the food truck, Bobby and Charlie tend to feed me here and there,  and now it looks like I have my very own personal chef." you said with a smile. Dean shook his head at you as he poured some of the batter into a pan. "Ooooh, can you make them into shapes?" you excitedly asked.

 "Round is a shape." he said.

 "I know that, but I meant like cool ones, like a heart or Mickey Mouse or some shit." you said.

 "Get down here." he said, as he helped you down from the counter.

 "What are you doing?" you asked.

 "Teaching you to make pancakes." he said as he placed the spatula in your hand.

 You looked at him over your shoulder, "You sure? I kind of had hopes of being able to eat soon." you said.

 "Nobody can mess up pancakes. They're easy." he said.

 "You clearly have too much faith in me." you argued.

 Dean raised his hand to your face and gently turned it back to face the stove, "Now, just flip it." he instructed. He watched as you took the spatula and stuck it under the edge of the pancake, quickly raising your hand and flipping it in the air, the pancake landing with a splat on the stove next to the pan, "Oops." you said as you looked over your shoulder at him, a sheepish smile on your face.

 Dean shook his head at you, his shoulders bouncing as he tried to contain his laughter, "All right Emeril, let's try that again, maybe with a little less enthusiasm this time." he said as he grabbed the bowl and poured a little more batter into the pan.

 "You said flip it so, I flipped it." you argued.

 Dean placed his hand on yours, "Like this." he said as he guided your hand, the pancake flipping over perfectly in the pan.

 "I prefer the flair I added, but your way works too." you said, smiling back at him.

 Dean helped you scoop the pancake onto a plate, "There you go, your first pancake." he said as he held out the plate to you. 

You looked down proudly at it, "I kind of feel like I can do anything now. I mean I can officially make pancakes now. Who knows what I'll do next." you jokingly said.

 "The possibilities are endless." he said, a wide smile on his face.

 "Make the next one into a something cool." you said as you walked over to the table and sat down. "I got dibs on it." you added as you loaded your pancake with syrup.

 Dean joined you at the table about 15 minutes later, and slid a pancake onto your plate. You looked down at it, "It's a...it's a oddly shaped blob." you squeaked out, not sure what you were looking at. 

 Dean rubbed the back of his neck, "It was supposed to be a heart." he said, a little embarrassed. You looked down at it and cocked your head to the side, "Totally see it now." you said.

 "I kind of messed it up." he said.

 You shook your head, "No, you just went for the anatomically correct version, and a very detailed one at that. It's got the little aorta and everything." you said as you pointed at the pancake. Dean threw his head back, his whole body shaking with laughter. You shoved a bite into your mouth, "It tastes good too, such talent." you said around the pancake in your mouth.

 Before Dean could say anything back the two of you heard the front door open and Mary and John walked into the kitchen a few moments later. "Mornin'  kids." John said as he placed a few bags of groceries on the counter, eyeing the half cooked pancake that was on the stove.

 You looked over your shoulder at him, "Sorry about the mess." you said, a small smile on your face.

 "Don't worry about it, Dalton." he said.

 "Dalton?" you asked, one eyebrow raised, confused by the name.

 "I heard about your run in with Lisa." he said with a chuckle. 

John Dalton, Patrick Swayze's character from Roadhouse popped into your head and you laughed at the reference. "Pretty sure John Dalton would have whooped a little ass, but I kind of promised Dean that no assault charges would be filed." you said with a shrug of your shoulders.

 A loud laugh erupted into the kitchen, "I like you, kid." John said, as he shook his head, completely amused by your reply. 

"What time do you guys have to leave?" Mary asked, a hint of sadness in her voice.

 "We could hang around for a few more hours." Dean said, a smile instantly coming to her face.

 "Great, cause I was thinking of making a pie." she said as she pulled a few things from the bag on the counter.

 "Pie?" Dean asked, his eyes lighting up. 

She nodded, "Only if you guys had enough time." she said.

 "There's always time for pie." he said causing you to chuckle.

 "Y/N, I was thinking you could lend me a hand, if you wanted to." Mary said to you.

 "Sure." you said with a smile. 

Dean looked at you for a moment, a worried expression on his face. "What?" you asked.

 "I...it's just...you don't really cook, and my pie." he trailed off. 

You crossed your arms over your chest, "You think I'm gonna mess it up." you said.

 "No, no, I just, I'm kind of particular when it comes to pie." he said, your intense gaze causing him to break eye contact with you.

 "I made a pancake, didn't I. Pretty sure I could figure out pie." you said. Dean looked over at the pancake on the stove, a worried look on his face, "Oh, come on, Freckles, have a little faith in me. I might surprise you." you said. 

Dean reluctantly nodded his head, "Ok." he breathed out

. "Why don't  you two get out of here for a few hours, and let us get to it." Mary said, referring to John and Dean

. "Guess, I could go gas up the car so we don't have to do it later." he said as he started to stand from the table. "You got the keys?" he asked you.

 "I'll go grab them." you said as you got up and headed upstairs.

        You returned a few moments later, your keys in your hand, as Dean held his hand out to you. You looked him up and down before walking by him and handing the keys to John, a smile lighting up his face. "What?!" asked Dean. You looked back at him, "You're just gonna hand him the keys like that? I had to beg you to let me drive, and it took forever for you to let me." he said, a shocked look on his face.

 You shrugged your shoulders, "He didn't doubt my culinary abilities." you said, a smirk on your face. 

"Oh yeah, I definitely like you, kid." John said as he twirled the keys around his finger.

 Dean shook his head at the two of you, "Unbelievable." he said. 

John gave Mary a quick kiss on the cheek before starting out of the kitchen. Dean stood frozen in his spot, "You better get a move on, Freckles, before you get left behind." you said as you stood next to Mary at the counter. Dean turned to leave the kitchen, "I might let you drive on the way home if you're nice to me!" you called after him, Dean mumbling something under his breath before he walked out.

 You turned to Mary, "Just a warning, I have absolutely no idea what I am doing." you said.

 She gently patted your hand, "Don't worry. I'm sure you will get the hang of it pretty quick." she said before placing the ingredients she needed in front of you. "Ready?" she asked with a smile. 

You nodded, "I think so." you said, hoping that you wouldn't screw it up.

      John was waiting by the car as the gas pumped when Dean walked out of the station after paying. He grabbed the squeegee and started to clean the windows. "You seem happier." John said, the statement catching Dean off guard

. He shrugged his shoulders, "I am." he simply said. 

John nodded, "What changed?" he asked, even though he was pretty sure he already knew the answer to that question.

 "I don't know...I just...I don't feel like I'm constantly having to prove myself anymore." he said, not exactly sure how to phrase it.

 "Prove yourself?" John asked, a little hurt by his words

. "I don't know...before I left I always felt like I wasn't good enough, that no matter what I did, it wasn't ever going to be as good as what Sam did. I mean, he went to college, then got this awesome fuckin' job, and the perfect relationship to top it all off, and I was just, well, I was just me, a mechanic." he rambled, his focus on making sure that he didn't leave any streaks on the window.

 John cleared his throat, drawing Dean's attention to him, "We have always been proud of you, son." he said.

 Dean shrugged his shoulders, "I just know that I'm never going to be that son that has the kind of job you can brag about, and I know how you guys felt about Lisa, not that I can blame you. I don't know, sometimes I feel like I should be further along in life, but I just can't seem to get the hang of it. That's kind of why I rushed into things with Lisa, I guess, I was just trying to catch up to Sam." he rambled out.

 "Son, you don't have to have a fancy job or a perfect girl on your arm for us to be proud of you. As long as you are happy, that's the only thing that matters to me and your mom." John said, hoping that Dean would take his words to heart. "Besides, I'm pretty sure you got the girl part figured out. Y/N seems like a good one." he said.

 Dean looked up at him, a soft smile on his face, "Yeah, she really is." he said before looking down at the window. "I've never met anyone like her. I mean, just when I think I have her figured out she surprises me with something new, out of nowhere. She has never made me feel bad about myself, and I don't have to be anyone but myself around her. She doesn't have all of  these expectations of me. She's happy with who I am.   I don't know, she's just one of those people that makes everything exciting, even if it's something like going to store. She pushes me out of my comfort zone in a good way, and I never know what she's gonna do next. I just...I used to think that I had to reach all of these milestones in life before I could be happy and satisfied with myself, but she's shown me that if you have the right person by your side, none of that stuff really matters. The right person will love you for who you are, flaws and all." he finished, a little embarrassed that he basically just poured his heart out in a gas station parking lot.

 John nodded his head, the ghost of a smile on his lips, "We've always been proud of you, Dean. I should have made it a point to tell you more often." John said, Dean nodding as he took in his words. "It sounds like you have things pretty well figured out, and I'm happy that you found someone that helped you do that. Hang on to her." John said before opening the door and climbing inside.

 Dean put the squeegee back, the realization that he never wanted to let you go hitting him like a ton of bricks, and he knew that he needed to tell you how he felt sooner or later.

          You looked down at the pie cooling on the counter before turning to Mary, "Thank you...for showing me how to do that." you said, a little embarrassed.

 "It was no problem." she said with a warm smile.

 You were tempted to grab your phone and send Dean a picture of the finished product. You were so proud of yourself, and so eager for him to try it.

 "Did your mom not do much baking?" Mary asked.

 "My mom wasn't really into the whole baking thing." you said, not wanting to delve too much into it.

 "You'll have to tell her you made one. She'll be proud." Mary said. 

You looked down at the counter, "We, uh, we don't really talk much anymore. I didn't live up to their expectations so they basically cut ties with me. It's pretty much just me and this little rag tag group of people now, but they're family and I know they will be shocked. I'm sure they won't believe it." you said, a sad smile on your face, surprised that you blurted all of that out.

 "Well, you got us now too." Mary genuinely said before pulling you into a warm hug. 

You never expected these two strangers to be so open and welcoming, and as you hugged her back you felt guilt creeping in that this whole weekend you had been lying to them. You thought about telling her that the two of you weren't really together, but you couldn't bring yourself to utter the words, too caught up in the acceptance and love that they had shown you to risk ruining it.

 You pulled back and looked at her, "Thank you." you said, hoping that she knew just how much her words meant to you.

 "How about we go sit outside on the porch and wait for those two to get back. It's really nice out today." she said before walking to the fridge. "Beer?" she asked as she opened the door.

 "I'd love one." you said with a smile, no longer worrying about trying to be anyone but yourself.  You walked outside with her, sitting next to her on the porch swing and curling your legs up under you before taking a sip of your beer, happy that you decided to tag along with Dean.

           You were still curled up in the swing with Mary when John and Dean pulled into the driveway. You jumped up, eager to show him the pie you made, and ran down the steps to meet him. "You gotta come see it." you excitedly said as you grabbed his hand and started to pull him towards the house.

 "See what?" he asked  as he let you drag him along. 

You stopped in your tracks, "Seriously?" you asked, Dean running into the back of you. "The pie." you said as you looked at him over your shoulder, causing Dean to  playfully shove  you aside before running into the house. 

You walked into the kitchen to see him placing a large slice on a plate before scooping up a generous bite and popping it into his mouth. "Well?" you asked, hoping that he liked it. 

Dean moaned, his eyes rolling back into his head, "Pretty sure I have to propose now." he teased before taking another bite. "You know you're gonna have to make these all the time now." he said, a completely serious look on his face.

 "I think I can handle that." you said as you walked up to him and grabbed his fork, and raised it to your mouth to try a bite. Your eyes widened, "Holy shit! I'm fuckin' awesome." you said around the bite in your mouth.

 "You got that right." Dean said before grabbing his fork from you and pushing you away from his plate. You raised an eyebrow at him, your hand on your hip as you looked at him, "Listen, I love you, but I don't share my pie." he said before taking a large bite. 

You stood in shock, your mouth slightly open as you tried to figure out if you heard him right, "You...you love me?" you choked out, Dean's eyes widening when he realized his slip. He tried to suck in a breath, forgetting about the pie in his mouth and sucking it down instead, instantly going into a coughing fit as he tried not to choke. "Oh shit. shit. shit." you said as you grabbed a glass and filled it with water, quickly handing it over to him. Dean took a sip, still coughing some as you tried to pat him on the back. "Fuck, I don't know the Heimlich maneuver, Freckles." you said as you continued to pat him.

 Dean took another sip of water and cleared his throat, "I'm...I'm ok." he rasped out, as you stared at him with worry on your face. 

You looked up at him, "You love me?" you asked again, needing to know that you heard him right the first time.

 "I know that it wasn't supposed to happen, but I kind of couldn't help myself. I know we had rules, and I'll understand if you want to call this off, but I love you." he said, trying to read your expression.

 You stood in front of him, gazing up at him, trying to figure out what to say. "You...you don't have to say it back. I just kind of blew the rules out of the water, huh." he nervously said.

 You smiled brightly up at him, "When have I ever been one to follow the rules?" you asked before raising up on your tip toes and placing a gentle kiss to his lips. You pulled back a little and looked up at him, "See, I kind of love you too, so fuck the rules." you said with a smile, Dean's face lighting up at your words.

"Fuck the rules." he said before placing his hands on either side of your face and pulling you in for a kiss.

 "Who would have thought that all it took to get it out of you was a pie and almost choking to death." you teased.

 "Never gonna live that one down am I?" he asked, a smile still on his face, as you shook your head.

             Dean carried the rest of your bags downstairs, "That's it." he said as he walked up to you. You walked over to the door and held it open for him before following after him to the car.

 Mary and John soon joined you outside, Mary handing over a take home container of the pie you had made, while Dean said goodbye to his father. Mary wrapped her arms around you, "I'm so happy you came, and remember you always have a place here." she said before releasing you and giving you a warm smile. 

You smiled back at her, "Thank you." you said, knowing that she knew how much it meant to you. 

John pulled you into his arms, "Try to stay out of trouble, Dalton." he said before whispering, "Thank you for taking care of him."

 You pulled back, "I'll try, but I can't make any promises." you said, giving him a warm smile, hoping that he would be able to realize that you would always take care of Dean.

 "You two get out of here, and let us know when you get home." John said as he wrapped his arm around Mary. You nodded and walked to the passenger side and started to climb in.

"Thanksgiving is in a couple of weeks. Can we count on the two of you to be there?" Mary asked with a hopeful smile. 

Dean looked over at you and you nodded, "We'll see you in a couple of weeks, love you guys." he said before opening the door and sliding behind the wheel. You gave the two of them one final wave as Dean backed out of the driveway and headed home.

       The two of you pulled up into the parking lot of your building a few hours later, the empty take home container sitting on the seat between you. The pie had made it about thirty minutes after you left his parent's house before the two of you dug in, you feeding Dean bites as he drove. "I'll get the bags." he said as he opened the door and climbed out.

 The two of you walked up the stairs and you unlocked the door of your apartment, pushing it open so Dean could go inside first. "So, how did it go?" Charlie asked from her spot on the couch when she saw the two of you walk in.

 You closed the door behind you and looked over to Dean before turning your attention to Charlie, "It went really good, a little surprising, but good." you said, Dean nodding in agreement with you.

 Charlie smiled at the two of you, "Told you it would." she said.

 "You were right." you said as you started to walk down the hall to your room.

 "I left the number and the information about that apartment in Y/N's room." you heard her tell Dean. You pushed open your bedroom door and kicked off your shoes, surprised at how tired you were.

 You had planned to go back out and talk to Charlie about the apartment and to make sure that Martin and Bobby were ok, but as you looked at your bed, you decided against it. "Tomorrow." you said to yourself as you stripped out of your jeans and sweater, and grabbed a t-shirt to pull on before throwing back the covers and climbing into bed. 

You were settling into bed when Dean walked in and dropped the bags at the foot of your bed. "You gonna check the place out tomorrow?" you asked with a yawn.

 Dean nodded, "You wanna go with me? I was thinking I could do it on my lunch break." he said as he pulled his shirt over his head.

 You nodded, "Mmm hmm." you hummed out, your eyes starting to close.

 You felt the bed dip beside you a few moments later, and the light go out, Dean pulling you into his arms as he settled himself into bed. "I'm really glad you came with me this weekend." he said before placing a kiss to the top of your head.

 "Me too." you said as you patted his chest.

 "Night Y/N, love you." he said and you could hear the smile in his voice.

 "Love you too, Freckles." you said before giving him a gentle a squeeze, so happy that you decided to say fuck the rules.

Tags: @vicmc624

[botls]

seeing hadestown 9/29/19 - part two

under the cut is my take on act two of hadestown after seeing it. i didnt really do a play by play of what’s happening in every scene so this is kind of assuming that you have some previous knowledge of the show and focuses on on the cast and the little things they were doing. part 1 here. meeting the cast. meeting tlt cast. if you have more questions or are curious about anything else PLEASE come and ask me in my inbox or messages i could talk about this show for the rest of my life

our lady of the underground:

the workers weren’t there - it was just persephone and hermes which was really cool

not sure if that was a new thing or a temp thing or something i was supposed to know but yeah i thought the workers were usually there

amber is obviously captivating in this song

she comes in arm and arm with hermes and then she like tries kissing him and he makes a disgusted face at her and walks away so she chases him while shimmying

she gives him her flask and he gives her her bouquet from the beginning in return and he smells the flask and violently leans back with a disgusted face it was so funny

i forgot what she did that made me laugh but when she said “you want stars?” i remember laughing so loud at something she did rip i think it might have just been the way she said it paired with throwing her arms up but i sadly don’t remember

way down(reprise):

when eurydice said “hi i’m eurydice” eva’s mic cut out just for that one line so then when she was like “doesn’t anybody hear me?” her mic was back on i was like lmfao no, nobody CAN hear you it was such perfect timing tbh

at one point she tries to get to the fates at the front and she tries shoving past some workers and they move out of her way in like. slow motion it’s sad

when she tries to go back the workers are forming a line that blocks her

flowers:

legitimately the saddest thing to ever happen to me ever in my whole life ever

i was very sad

very sad

eva’s voice was so soft and beautiful

the “choreo” was so impactful but simple but also super coordinated you could tell it was all very purposeful

what she does with her hands during the “i remember someone” part is so sad and soft but hard to put into words

you could tell that her crying was just eva genuinely sobbing

the workers are all laying on the stage/platform behind her while she sings and they look like they’re sleeping/resting

come home with me reprise:

THE SOFTEST EVERRRRRR

reeve hauls ass through the aisle like i was trying to look for him but he seriously came out of nowhere and bounded down the aisle so fast

i squealed when orpheus picked up eurydice and spun her i knew it was coming but it was too tender and soft for my heart to handle

when she’s like “you heard” the way he said “no” was so matter of fact and he smiled like such a little shit and everyone laughed

their hugs uwu they hug so much

when he spins her around please 🥺

papers:

it was perfectly done

when he said “i’m not going back alone” he stepped forward towards hades and the when he said “i came to take her home” he pointed at eurydice and it turned into a grab hug

he is so sad at the end omfg

during the instrumental is when his cuts and dirt really become obvious bc it seems like the workers are targeting those spots

at one point orpheus is up on the center platform stairs and he throws himself off and timothy catches him like a one man crowd surf situation it was actually funny if it was heartbreaking

nothing changes:

it really seemed like orpheus was going to give up

he was clutching an imaginary injury on his side and breathing so heavily and he seriously looked defeated

i knew what was going to happen and i was still like PLEASEEE don’t give up bb

if it’s true:

magic

pure magic

the vocals had me crying

orpheus is so defeated at the beginning and eurydice is on the work line but she isn’t doing anything but just as she starts working again at a slow pace the other workers start singing and she looks around in amazement

persephone is on the side the whole time watching in awe and disbelief

when the workers really start standing and getting into it eurydice is the last to join them because she literally is in shock and can’t believe it

the workers slowly left the line and were facing the audience and breaking the mold

when they’re all really singing eurydice seriously just can’t believe it she smiles so wide at the audience and covers her hand with her mouth

how long:

not to be repetitive but excellent choreo once again

it’s relatively simple but impactful

i don’t have too much to say bc it was obviously fantastic vocally but if you’ve seen the london boot there wasn’t anything they were really doing much differently (not in a bad way like. they were Great)

chant reprise:

when they come back up singing “if it’s true” they look like a little group of kids scheming to steal cookies or something lmao

when eurydice has to go back to work orpheus holds her hand until the last second uwus

the hades/persephone/orpheus/eurydice placement was perfect and very similar to london if you’ve seen the boot

hard to describe but very well planned

orphydice sounded SO GOOD during during their solo “could i change the way it is?” and they were staring at each other my hearttt

the light. you know the light. it was so fucking bright. i haven’t seen properly since.

everyone on stage was covering their eyes except orpheus who did it like three minutes late

epic 3:

orpheus was So Nervous

after hades says “oh it’s about me” he jumps back from the mic and turns terrified to hermes who ofc just says his classic “go on”

right from “he was like me: a man in love with a woman” he stares at eurydice for pretty much the rest of the song until the spinny lifty part it’s so soft

hades was so betrayed when the workers started singing

and he was furious when he was caught in the middle with orpheus

eva’s placement during this song is very nice. she spends a lot of it behind orpheus during the turning part and it kind of looks like she’s standing behind him as support

the dance is everything you want it to be

so soft and persephone is so fucking excited to be dancing like you can’t just tell she is JUMPING out of her skin excited

eurydice and orpheus keep looking at each other like they can’t believe it’s happening

promises:

when eurydice says “we’ll just go back the way you came” she points back at the aisle he came from originally but it’s kind of funny lmao bc it’s just people there but they both stare like it’s this magical destination

when she says “look at him—he can’t say no” she runs right up to hades and points in his face but he’s too caught up in persephone to even realize

they are so soft like. their little touches give me Life

eurydice sings to the workers and grabs all of their hands while she sings “i don’t know where this road will end, but i’ll walk it with you hand in hand” and it is so very sweet and soft

and when orpheus is on his knees and says “will you let me walk with you” and she turns around and says “i do” the workers all put their hands on their hearts and look at each other like a group of stereotypical teenage girls watching their friend and her bf lmao

word to the wise:

the second hades says “i don’t know” persephone goes from having been hugging him for the past ten minutes to hurling herself to the other side of the stage in two seconds flat

the fates are essentially making fun of orpheus in their gestures and faces and pointing but he’s hugging eurydice who was had her back to the audience but was shaking her head and then you see him nodding and reassuring her

his kiss the riot:

usually not my cup of tea tbh i mostly skip it bc i only enjoy some parts of it mainly the instrumentals but live changed that so much

it was so dramatic and it looked like hades and hermes were having a bro on bro chat

but seriously patrick page had me captivated he did phenomenal

wait for me reprise:

if you aren’t the wait for me reprise don’t talk to me

when hermes says that hades said they could go orphydice is literally already on the other side of the stage trying to leave before he even gets the next line out

when hermes tells them the conditions eurydice steps forward to stare up/at the audience and orpheus stays on the side staring at hermes in the center

when hermes says “do you trust each other?” eurydice still keeps staring but orpheus nods furiously and then he says “do you trust yourselves” and they turn to each other and say “we do”

orphydice is standing next to each other and staring at the audience for the beginning both with very emotional looking faces (although it was getting hard to see through my tears ahsgsjsks)

orphydice is standing in the middle holding hands and then hades and persephone each step forward and grab hands too with the guys and girls each on one side in a fantastic parallel and then all of a sudden when orpheus and eurydice drop hands persephone and hades still hold hands but they switch around so quick so that persephone is next to orpheus and hades is next to eurydice and it was disgustingly symbolic and gutting for me

hades and orpheus shake hands and eurydice and i shook our heads no at the same time

the vocals. the vocals guys.

after watching that youtube video of eva’s part in the song that’s on a loop for over an hour more times than i can count seeing it live was ethereal for me

i couldn’t believe it

i was crying so much but i was also fucking smiling because i was in such awe

when eva jumps so does reeve

eva noblezada is the only person that has rights tbh

doubt comes in:

so we all been knew about the lighting in this song is the most excellent ever

there are a lot of times where not even the audience sees eurydice or you see moving in the darkness but you don’t know if it’s eurydice or a fate or a worker

the drums are much louder and more prominent than in the soundtrack so the steady pounding is MUCH more intense and jarring

when the fates are taunting orpheus he puts his hands over his ears and is super tense and as eurydice sings her first verse he slowly takes them off his ears and relaxes

after her second verse he takes his hands off his ears but stays tense. that’s when i knew i was done for.

for the second half of the song there aren’t as many parts where eurydice is shadowed - making it clear to viewers that she’s there but not to orpheus

at one part in the beginning when she’s right behind him orpheus turns to the audience and eurydice JUMPS back so he won’t see her big ouch

the second i saw the steps light up i was like fuck this i cant

when orpheus comes off the platform to kneel next to the sinking stage him and eurydice fall to their knees at the same time so right when he gets to her she falls faster

the look of agony on her face stepped on my heart and spit in my face

right after there was a lot of whispering and i heard one person in the section next to me whisper “i can’t fucking believe this. i cant do this today”

road to hell 2:

look up pain in the dictionary and it’s this

i was sobbing the whole time

we all know how it goes with this one

after hermes said “to know how it ends and still begin to sing it again - as if it might turn out this time” someone in the theater was like “mmmm mmHHHMMM” like in a “preach” way

when eurydice came out again with her candle and flower the theater was Shook i felt it

i just kept crying and shaking my head no tbh this whole day is a blur but this part specifically is a fever dream

amber and eva’s parts in this song gave birth to me and they were even more majestic live

eva’s voice is the first wonder of the world i swear

we raise our cups:

it’s called Sadness luv

but amber and eva sounded great

everyone looked sad and somber except reeve who was so smiley and proud lmao

when they were passing out the cups andre didn’t get one at first and he put out his arms like “hello????”

it really was gorgeous live everyone’s voices sounded lovely it was just so so so so so so so so sad

and then it was over and i was like Wut The Fuc

[crossbows-and-moonshine]

Blood in the Water (Sequel to Such a Softer Sin)

The sequel is hereeeeeee.

So, a quick reminder, it will be very canon divergent, some things might seem AU, but that's just the way its gotta be.

Its set 5 months after the prequel and the first chapter might seem fillerish? But it's just cause I need to fill in some gaps before the real shit starts in the next chapter. What happens in this chapter was unexpected to say the least and not where I thought this thing was heading, but it happened so...

I have no idea where the fuck I’m going with this and I’ll probably struggle since I can’t free write completely with the movie plotline to follow, but there we fucking go.

ARE WE READY?

No...We are not. lolololol.

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

It was a Tuesday, the weather was a little drab but it didn't affect the three bodies tangled together in bed. Lila had the night off, it was St Patrick's day the day after, her first one working at McGinty's, and she had been given the night off to enjoy herself, preparing herself for the next night almost. She had been told McGinty's was quite a fucking night on St Patty's day. It had been 5 months since the boys proposed to her, 10 months in total since she’d met the little shits, and not much had changed. They weren’t married yet. None of them quite anticipated the level of planning that a wedding seemed to take, and much to Lilas amusement, Connor was in his fucking element. Murphy was glad Connor had taken over the planning, he didn't want to have to deal with what fucking flowers they wanted or the colour scheme. Fuck that shite. Connor loved it though, focusing all his energy on planning the wedding. He had chosen Christmas eve as the date, spoke to the priest and had it all booked. They had selected the priest from the hospital, the one that had watched over them when Murphy was comatose. The man was all too happy to bless their seemingly strange union. He had seen first hand what love these three had for each other, and learning they were twins, hearing their explanation of how they were one soul divided in two bodies, even he agreed it was fitting for their soulmate to be one person. He had seen them all together, seen how they worked, and he knew in his heart it was God's work. The weird little hang-up Murphy kept coming back to, about them both being in love with her and marrying her, it had eased tremendously with the priests backing, and also the fact she was to officially marry him.

Connor was right, Murphy was the more sentimental one, and whereas Connor was happy with just the blessing, what was deemed as the real marriage in their eyes, linking the girl to the pair of them, the fact she would be his wife legally meant all the world to him. He would never hold it over his brother, it wasn't like that made him more special in her eyes in the slightest, and he knew that. But he was aware of the tremendous gift his brother had bestowed on him with this and he didn't take it for granted for one fucking second. The plan was the day before the wedding, the three of them and Rocco would go to the courthouse to sign the papers with Connor and Rocco as the witnesses, and then she would officially be a MacManus, ready for the wedding. They weren't going to make a fuss out of it or celebrate it, because the real celebration was the wedding.

Now being engaged, it hadn't really changed anything with the three of them. They still had their own little routine going, but they did feel closer. No longer feeling the need to fight the urge to tell her they loved her, it was all there, open for all of them to see. They were currently laying in bed, just having a lazy day after the boys had been working hard. They enjoyed their time like this, apart from weekends it seemed few and far between since not long after the boys got home from work, Lila herself would start her shift. So when they got a moment to just lay there and soak each other in, they fucking took it.

“I think I missed my period…” Lila blurted out in a moment of silence. She felt Connors hand reflexively tighten around her, and she felt Murphy tense under her as she lay with her head on his chest. There was a tense moment of silence and Lila could swear crickets were fucking chirping. She slid off the bed and stood up, cheeks flushed as she turned to look at the pair. They looked like blinking statues and she felt the anxiety weighing on her. She had been wanting to say something for a few days and she couldn't seem to find the right moment. The boys looked to each other before standing up too, looking at her warily.

“Ye...Ye think or ye know?” Connor asked hesitantly, she didn't fail to miss how their eyes kept darting to her stomach like they were expecting a bump to magically form from nowhere. She shifted where she stood, this conversation was mighty fucking uncomfortable for her. Murphy's eyes were almost glazed over like he was somewhere else completely and it made her nervous he hadn't spoken, always the twin that found it hard to hold back.

“Well...I know I’ve missed it but I’m not sure what it means...my periods can be a little...irregular.” She admitted, her face still burning bright. She didn't want to be talking about her fucking menstrual cycle with her very attractive boyfriends.

“I mean… I doubt I’m...I doubt it means...you know. It’s probably nothing, it's not the first time it’s happened, but I thought you two should know, ‘cause I need to take a test just to be sure.” She rambled, clearly nervous about the whole thing.

Connor nodded slowly, licking his lower lip like the words were trying to digest in his brain as he sat on the edge of the bed and Murphy just stood still as a rock.

“Murphy, for fuck sake say something.” Lila pleaded, having a moment of desperation at his silence, it was never a good thing when Murphy was silent. She couldn't even get a read from the pair of them. His eyes snapped up to hers and he blinked at her, he was swaying slightly on his feet and he looked paler than usual, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat as he swallowed thickly.

“I uh...Ye might be...We could be...Fuckin’ Christ...” His eyes rolled back into his head and he hit the floor with a thud. Lilas' eyes widened and she crouched down next to him, taking his clammy face in her hands. Connor looked at him still in shock, not even moving to fucking help him like his brain still hadn’t caught up with him yet.

“Connor!” Lila chided with a frown, making him snap out of it as he quickly got up, hauling Murphy up and back onto the bed carefully.

She stood next to the bed looking worried and Connor was yet to speak and it was making her want to peel her skin off.

“I told you, I might not be…” It was like she was scared to say the word pregnant because it might fucking happen somehow. The three hadn’t ever spoken about having kids, she was on the pill for fuck sake, but of course shit happens. She was unaware the boys had spoken of it previously, how they both wanted that with her one day. They just hadn’t expected it so fucking soon and before they had wed her, or as close to that as they could get. Lila wasn't sure how she felt about it, she hadn't really thought about it before, she didn't think she was ready, that they were ready. But if it happened they would see it through and she had no doubt the twins would take care of both her and the baby.

Connor moved to sit in front of her, his hands touching her belly hesitantly and it made her throat close up.

“Ye might not be...but ye might be.” He whispered, his voice thick with emotion. His hands were trembling and it made her heart flutter.

“And if I am?” She asked warily, looking down at him nervously. His eyes met hers then, a steely determination in them that almost floored her.

“Then we’d be fuckin’ blessed te have a child wit’ ye.” He stated firmly, making her breathing hitch a little. She licked her lower lip and nodded, her hands coming to rest on top of his.

“I’m probably not, I just...I wanted you guys to know just in case, when I take the test.” She whispered softly, not knowing how she felt about Connor touching her belly reverently like this, about his words, like he wanted a baby with her so soon.

He cleared his throat and stood up, she could see on his face the second he got control of himself once more, shelving all emotions as he took charge of the situation, she couldn't say she was surprised.

“Right, ye watch over Murph and I’ll grab a test, I’ll be back in a few.” She didn't have a chance to reply because he was gone in an instant. Lila sighed and sat next to Murphy, brushing his hair from his face. It would have been comical how he reacted, how he fainted at the news, if it wasn't so fucking scary that she might be carrying their child. It reminded her of how she herself fainted when they asked her to marry them, she idly wondered when Connor would faint, bring the whole thing full fucking circle. Murphy's eyes fluttered open and when they settled on her they widened, making him sit up fast. He grimaced and held his head.

“Careful, you fainted.” Lila said softly, looking at him concerned. He eyed her warily for a moment and it just made her even more stressed.

“Murph please, I can't get a read on you.” She whispered pleadingly, looking down with a frown at her hands. He was always the easier twin to read, so open and raw with her, and now she couldn't get a sense of anything and she wasn't sure if he was purposely blocking her or just so overwhelmed his brain had short-circuited.

He took her hand slowly, making her look at him and she could see it then, the unshed tears in his eyes, the emotion behind them like a storm about to be released.

“I just…” He took a shaky breath and squeezed his eyes shut. She could see his clenched jaw and how he was fighting with himself.

“Would it really be that bad?” She asked, her voice a mere whisper as she looked at him almost forlornly, mistaking his emotional state for something negative. He looked at her incredulously, just blinking for a moment.

“It’s not a bad thing m’girl in the slightest, we’d be blessed te have a child wit’ ye.” He said sincerely, echoing his brother's exact words. The very fact they had said the same thing made her stomach flip around on her. The pair were so intense sometimes.

“You don't think it's too soon?” She asked warily, not wanting to upset him. He frowned at her then, looking almost pained at her words and it sent a pang of guilt through her.

“If it's God's will, it’ll happen when it happens.” Was all he supplied, giving her such an intense look it made the hairs on the back of her neck prickle up.

The door opened then and the lighter haired twin came in, bag in hand. He resisted the urge to make a quip about his brother fainting on them as he did, it didn't feel quite the time to make jokes. He took the box from the bag and handed it to her, both boys looking at her expectantly. Her cheeks flushed as she took it and started walking to the toilet behind the screen. She was mortified when she heard two pairs of feet following her. She turned around only to see the twins right behind her, looking anxious and fidgety.

“No. Fucking not a chance in hell. I get you’re nervous, so am I, but I’ll be fucked if I’m pissing in front of you.” She snorted incredulously. The boys looked to each other and back at her, almost sheepishly and they moved to sit on the bed. She noticed Connors' arm go around the darker haired boy just before she disappeared behind the screen.

She came back to the bed, test in hand, waiting for the results. Connor was reading over the instructions, reading them aloud for Murphy who was fidgeting restlessly.

“So we wait? Two minutes?” She asked softly as she placed the test on the dining room table and sat down. The boys followed suit, sitting either side of her, Connor grabbing the timer and setting it.

“Aye.” Connor replied tensely. It was the longest two minutes of their fucking lives and Murphy was fidgeting so much Lila was surprised he hadn't set fire to himself. The timer went off and the three jumped visibly. There was a moment of silence where they were all still and then Lila snatched the test before Murphy did. She felt her heart sink a little, almost like she could feel a tiny fracture forming on it and she knew she was being ridiculous.

“Negative.” She stated emotionlessly. She was glaring at the test in her hands like it might change the outcome. A few minutes ago she hadn't felt ready, she hadn't felt like this would be a good thing. But now, with the results glaring at her, she couldn't ignore the deep ache that was residing inside of her ribcage.

She swallowed thickly and set the test down, Connor taking it to double check. Lila glanced to Murphy and he was glaring at the table, his chest heaving slightly and she just knew he was trying not to cry. It only made the sting that much worse. Connor placed the test down, his own hands shaking as he took a breath. The silence was deafening for the three of them and they could feel the sadness settle over the loft like a dark cloud.

“How could ye miss somethin’ that was never there?” Connor asked aloud sounding almost incredulous, his voice cracking with slight emotion that betrayed the usually stoic brother. It was all it took for Murphy and he stood so fast the chair tipped over, tears streaming down his face as he grabbed his coat, needing to get the fuck out of here before he tore the place apart. His heart was burning in his chest, setting the whole of him alight.

Lila watched him about to leave and panicked and she couldn't even help the words that left her lips, the raw honesty at that moment.

“I want a baby with you.” She blurted out, making Murphy still completely just before the door and Connor turned to look at her with wide eyes. She glanced between the pair before standing, wringing her hands nervously.

“I thought...I thought it was too soon...but this...I don’t...It hurts, why does it hurt?” She asked brokenly with so much confusion, tears stinging her eyes as the pain in her heart increased. Connor looked at her, feeling her anguish and he took her hand and squeezed it, watching as his twin discarded his coat and came over. Murphy wrapped his arms around her tightly, Lila still holding Connors' hand and using the other to embrace Murphy, sobbing softly into his chest. Connor stood, holding her hand tightly and gripping the back of his brother's neck affectionately, his own tears threatening to fall.

“Hurts because o’ the hope m’girl. Ye hoped ye would be, just like we did.” Murphy whispered tensely through his tears, burying his face into her hair. He felt her nodding against him, accepting his answer. She moved away, untangling herself from the pair of them and wiping her eyes.

“Are we crazy? If we...If we try? So soon?” She asked as she sniffled, shaky hands wiping at her tears. Connor still had a hold of his brother and they took strength from each other, the fact she was asking this, that she had been so upset, it made them feel all sorts of shit. She wanted a fucking baby with them.

“Crazy maybe...feels right though doesn't it?” Connor asked softly, looking at her earnestly. She smiled at him through her tears and nodded, it did feel right. The thought of carrying their child, being a real family.

“But we aren't married yet.” She protested weakly with a furrowed brow, her eyes instinctively going to the boys' rosaries on the wall.

“Special circumstances lass? I mean, there's three o’ us. Won’t exactly be a proper marriage anyway, but God understands that aye?” Connor stated confidently, giving her an affectionate smile.

“God wills if it happens love, like I said.” Murphy added softly, looking at her through his lashes.

She was quiet for a moment before looking at them.

“Fuck, so I guess we’re actually doing this. We’re gonna try for a baby.” She laughed incredulously, making the boys grin widely at her.

“Aye, gonna have a proper little family.” Murphy beamed, wiping his eyes again because he was a sensitive little soul and he started crying once again.

“Expandin’ the MacManus clan eh Murph?” Connor grinned and grabbed them both, pulling them in for a hug, letting the weight of this moment settle in on them all. Getting married was one thing, but having a baby together, well that was a whole other thing altogether and a turning point for the three of them. But the negative result had made them all see clearly, made them all feel it, the deep want for a baby, to start a real family together. This was it now, they were all in, all cards on the fucking table and they all knew where they stood.

(If you want adding on the taglist, let me know!)

Taglist; @risingphoenix761 @arlaina28 @daryldixonandfrogs @divadinag

[trivialqueen]

Here’s the next section of that original story. 

As always, I’m neither a doctor, nor British.  I’m just a girl who fancies herself a writer and likes slow burns, smart women, and tall men. 

St. Sebastian’s was a world class hospital with some of the worst aesthetics he’d ever seen. The exterior was in an uninspired brutalist style. The interior had been remolded several times since the early 1960s, but only ever with an eye toward function and technology, never design or comfort. The cardiothoracic ward, known as Harvey, was as bland as the rest of the hospital, but with the extra unattractive feature of ghastly aqua accents throughout. As if that was a substitute for style. Felix leaned against the nurses’ station, feigning interest in a chart. It had been over a week since his introduction as Director of Surgery. In the subsequent ten days his true role in the hospital had spread like, well, gossip in a hospital. He’s the Dread Pirate Roberts here for your jjjoooobbb!! The rumors were absolutely true, but he didn’t want to let that on. To make an accurate assessment of viability and redundancies he needed to see the hospital in action, not performance. Changes were only as good as their usefulness and longevity. So whenever possible he preferred to observe as inconspicuously as a man of his height could. This tended to involve a lot of pretending to read and “sneaking”.

Even if he wasn’t half secretly overseeing a major shakeup in the hospital, being the Director of Surgery meant he bounced from ward to ward far more than his colleagues did. Which was how he found himself on Harvey that afternoon. He appreciated the challenges that this brought, it tested and stretched diagnostic muscles he’d not used since deciding a specialty, but it also ate into his time as a surgeon. He’d accepted a more administrative position as it was the next logical career move, but in his heart, he was a doctor first and foremost, a bureaucrat a distant second. His pantomime reading of one of Paul Elliot’s old transplant cases was interrupted by a sandy haired teen with a strong Belfast accent.

“It’s ma Dad, he needs help.” A quick survey of the room told him two things: one, no one was collapsed on the floor, meaning the Dad in question was already a patient in a bed, and two, none of the CT consultants, or even a registrar, were in the immediate vicinity. The boy was talking to him.

“Who’s his consultant?”

“Ms. Hale.” The boy fairly spat.

“Then I suggest you wait for her.” She was likely doing something maverick and self-righteous, but he had no doubts she’d be back.

“She doesn’t know a damn thing what she’s doing! She’s done like fifteen tests on ma Dad and all she says is ‘wait and see’. Now you tell me to wait! I’m sick of waiting. He’s in pain, real pain.”

“Alright.” He could at least do something about the pain, if nothing else.

Sofia Grace Hale had a scrivener’s hand, surprising for a doctor. It was large, round, looping, and very legible, unlike his own tight, scratchy scrawl. ‘Abdominal pain’ jumped out from the meticulous notes. Most of Mr. Patrick Baxter’s ailments were CT related and not necessarily caused by his MS– the dilated aorta first among them. Ms. Hale was undoubtable chasing all of their causes and symptoms, but the abdominal pain… well he could check on that. It would also make the teen happy, hopefully, if he could even answer one question.

“Mr. Baxter, my name is Felix Magnusson, and I’d like to do a few tests regarding your abdominal pain, I’ll be arranging for your transfer to our general surgery ward, St. Irene’s.”

Ms. Hale’s red tassel earrings matched her lipstick and made her double take particularly dramatic as she passed Mr. Baxter, his son Kevin, and the porter taking them to the third floor.

“Where are you taking Mr. Baxter?”

“Down to Irene.” Her coffee colored eyes widened and that fire he’d seen during their first meeting began to smolder. She had eyes that could lead a man to hell. Perhaps one day she might look at him without an indignant flame in her gaze. But until then he would warm himself by the fire in her eyes.

“What?”

“He needs an ultrasound.”

“Why isn’t he having one here?” She crossed her arms under her breast as she glared up at him. Even in her high heels her head only came to about his shoulders. To keep eye contact she was forced to crane her neck slightly. Which she did, pale throat exposed, creating a lovely long line down her neck to her décolletage, where he resolutely refused to look, no matter how tempting.

“There seems little point in taking up a CT bed when his problem is clearly GS related.”

“Clearly GS related? The worst pain is in his chest, and the echo shows a dilated aorta.”

“I’ve read your notes. He also has severe abdominal pain. So, what’s your diagnosis?”

She wanted to scream. That arrogant bastard. That absolute arschloch. ‘What’s your diagnosis?’ like she was a bloody F1. God, his tone. ‘Was ist deine diagnose?’ It was that same clipped, ‘I don’t think you have this in you’ tone her clinical skills lead at Tübingen had taken with her. Except he was speaking English. And she wasn’t a F1 anymore. She was a consultant, goddamnit.

(The worst part was, of course, the fact she didn’t have a diagnosis. Not yet anyway, and that uncertainty made her feel even more like a bloody first year all over again. ‘Was ist deine diagnose?’ ‘Keine Ahnung.’)

“I’ve ruled out ischemic heart disease but I’m still waiting on his blood pressure.”

“That is not a diagnosis.” Her eyes flamed beautifully. Her temper was quick and exquisite.

“I’m well aware! As I said, I’m waiting on his test results.”

“The patient was admitted thirty-six hours ago, and you don’t have a diagnosis yet. Surly a change of tact can only assist in figuring this out.” He cocked a brow, his supreme confidence in his own ability shining in his eyes, the quirk of his lips. He took a step closer to her, forcing her head back further, as if he wanted to force her to look away. She wouldn’t. She’d hold her ground and his gaze, even if meant he put her in Anuvittasana to do it. She could catch a whiff of his aftershave, something with sandalwood in it. He smelled of it, hospital, fresh laundry, and perhaps faintly, of old books.

“Is it common elsewhere to steal other consultants’ patients? Or is this because you think you know everything?” He stared at her a moment, tongue moistening his thin lips before he spoke.

“We are both consultants, are we not?” He could see her hands flexing at her side, as if she was thinking about strangling him, and he could taste her anger, capsaicin hot.

“Yes.” She spat out from between cayenne colored lips.

“then surly Mr. Baxter can be our patient. Now let me see what I can learn about the GS part of our current problem, hm?” And with that patronizing hum in his throat he left. Left her in the hallway struggling to keep from screaming, her breath coming in choppy, short burst.

She really did not like that man.

He heard her before he saw her, the determined click of spike heels on linoleum making the announcement: Gird your loins. The moment Mr. Baxter was back from his ultrasound she was at his bedside, chart in hand.

“Your blood pressure is constantly going from high to normal-”

“Of course, it is Love, you keep bothering me. Now, I don’t wanna be rude…” His tone suggested otherwise as his gaze raked down her body, coming to rest on her legs with appreciation. “I’ve lived with this condition for fifteen years; you’re not going to tell me anything I don’t already know.” She did have stunning legs, but that did not give the man the right to stare like that. Felix could feel his jaw tighten as he watched patient and consultant converse.

“Right, Jeyne, I’d like to do a blood culture and another echo, please.”

“Love, you’re not listening to me. You’re wasting your time running these bloody tests.” Ms. Hale was very clearly listening to the man, her back was visibly tense from across the room, spine straight and hard as steel. She gave him a curt nod and walked away, his eyes following her with a lascivious grin spreading across his face. He caught her eye as she brushed past him down the hall, for once that burning anger wasn’t directed at him. Once the click-click of her heels was out of earshot he released the breath he’d not realized he’d been holding. The glower he knew he wore, however, remained.

The ward was mostly dark as he made his final rounds for the evening. Meetings had taken up most of his afternoon, bowel resection aside, and had pushed any patient follow ups or paperwork into late in the evening. Most of the residents on the ward were asleep, with a few readings or playing on their devices, providing patches of light throughout the otherwise dim floor. Mr. Baxter was asleep, looking almost peaceful. He snagged the man’s file and retreated to the better lighting of the nurses’ station.

“She said I could sit here.” The voice almost startled him, if he was the sort to be startled. Kevin Baxter sat at the nursing station, text book and papers spread about him in messy piles. Felix felt his fingers twitch, itch to straighten them up, keep them from jumbling together or with anything important still on the desk.

“Who did?”

“Sister Jacobs. Gotta do my homework somewhere.” He held up a battered German language primer.

“Ah! Sprichst du Deutsch?”

“Ich verstehe nur Bahnhof.” He could only smile at his response. There was always something deliciously ironic about complaining that one did not speak the language in idioms of the language.

He’d learned Latin at his father’s knee, and learned it perfectly, for his father would not have settled for anything less. It was both his personality and his profession, as a professor of classics and philologist. English had come quickly in school and become his primary language when at ten he’d been sent to boarding school. He’d learned French first, having tested out of the Latin classes, followed shortly by German. At the time French had been the easier language to pick up, but after quickly realizing that speaking it frequently would require interacting with the French, he’d not pursued it beyond conversational. His mastery of German had been improved tremendously the year he spent in Heidelberg but since his return to the UK it had fallen by the wayside, reading skills aside. He still enjoyed keeping up with his former colleagues’ research. He now also had a stack of publications by S.G. Hale sitting on his desk to peruse.

“Deutsche Sprache, Schwere Sprache.”

“Ja, und ich mag es nicht. Es ist eine mean, hateful Sprache.”

“If you need help, Ms. Hale is a fluent German speaker, she went to school there.” The boy pulled a face. “Do you always work at night?” He was not interested in hearing the boy complain about one of the hospital’s more talented surgeons because his father had a particularly difficult case to diagnose; sifting out preexisting MS symptoms from the new ones, causes still unknown.

“It’s the only time we get any peace, when he’s asleep. Then it’s like everything’s… dunno, normal, I guess, whatever that means.”  He sounded so old for one so young. Felix followed the boy’s eyes as they rested on his father, who was still resting as peacefully as one could in a hospital bed. I could not be easy for either of them, as far as he could tell there was no one else in the Baxter household at the moment except Patrick and Kevin. Being primary caretaker and a teenager was no easy task. “It’s become secondary progressive, hasn’t it?” His jaw clenched.

“What makes you say that?”

“Cuz it’s obvious,” The boy said in that way that only teenagers could. “The migraines, the flashing before his eyes, the coughing like he’s got consumption, the going crazy mad for no reasons.” Felix felt his body tense. This was new information. Important and new. Given how consistently condescending and rude he’d been to Ms. Hale while simultaneously ogling her admittedly very fine legs and even better backside, he’d assumed the man had always had a bad temper. That it was a personality trait, not a symptom.

“He’s not always had a temper?” His mind buzzed with new connections.

“Just lately. Why?”

“Do your homework.” The Baxters might complain about excessive tests but he was fairly confident the next two would provide all the answers they needed.

She was too old for this shit. Sofia Grace did her best to stifle a yawn before going to speak to Mr. Baxter. She’d been up entirely too late trying to figure out his diagnosis, but she’d finally made one. It was a pity that as her vice of choice, she’d developed a tolerance to caffeine so high that the amount necessary to actually keep her awake would also, quite possibly, kill her. But given how Mr. Baxter rankled her with his distain and condescension she knew that her blood would undoubtedly be pumping in now time. Straightening her blouse, she approached his bed, Kevin had already left for school it seemed.

“Good morning, Mr. Baxter. My sincerest apologies for it taking so long, but I think I’ve come up with an explanation for your symptoms.”

“No need, Love, really.” It was a dismissal but not nearly as rude as his usual attitude.

“Sorry?” In fact, he looked rather resigned.

“Catecholamine.” A baritone voice in her ear supplied. Sofia Grace felt herself jump out of her skin. She wheeled around. There, standing in her personal space was Felix Magnusson. Tall as ever, as immovable as a brick wall, and radiating a warmth from his chest that made the rest of the room feel chilly. She’d had no idea he was on the ward, let alone able to stand directly behind her.

“What?”

“I’ve explained it all to Mr. Baxter already,” He continued on, as efficient as ever, pulling out a CT scan from its large brown envelope with flourish. “It accounts for all the symptoms and really, it’s blindingly obvious when you really think about it. I feel a little ashamed for not realizing sooner.” He held the scan out in front of her, he was so close to her back and his arms were so long that she only needed to lean back slightly into his chest to see what he was looking at. “Textbook Pheochromocytoma.” There was indeed a tumor on the adrenal gland and up into the chest cavity, partially around the diaphragm. The pain, headaches, palpitations, elevated heartrate and blood pressure… all the signs and symptoms. The dilated aorta was a problem, but not related to the other symptoms. It really was a general surgery problem, Hurensohn! He lowered his arm but didn’t step back from her.

“So, what do we do now?” It was the first time the man in the bed had looked up at her with anything other than contempt.

“Well,” his MS did complicate things, he wasn’t wrong when he’d asserted that. They’d have to determine if he was fit for surgery, speak with the neuro and physio specialists, get a theatre slot if he was determined fit or wait longer if he wasn’t.

“There’s a procedure. We have a slot in theatre this morning.” She did step away from him then. They needed to have a discussion, now. And it couldn’t be in front of Patrick Baxter. Her fingers itched to grab him by the tie (burgundy silk against a pale blue shirt and navy suit) and tow him away from the bed.

“Mr. Magnusson, could I have a word?” Keeping her tone light and professional was a challenge. They’d only worked together for two weeks and Sofia Grace wasn’t entirely certain she hadn’t developed a twitch in that time.

“Just a moment, Ms. Hale.” He didn’t quite hand wave her away, but it was close. God grant me the strength to deal with condescending men. “There’s a theatre slot this morning; would you like us to call your son?” Magnusson was hard to read, but this look was particularly inscrutable.

“No, not till after. If that’s possible. He’s got a maths test today and doesn’t need more worry than he’s already got.” Ever so slightly the lines around his eyes and mouth relaxed as he studied the man in the bed.

“Mr. Magnusson, if you don’t mind?” It took some effort to steer him away, mostly with herself to keep from grabbing him by the tie to do it. Instead a firm hand on his elbow did the trick, only making her feel slightly like a tiny tugboat, although instead of bringing a Nordic cruise ship out to sea, she was dragging a Swedish surgeon over to the light box.

           “You’re just assuming he’s fit for surgery!” She hissed.

           “The Neuro and Physio specialists seem to agree with me.” He hung the scan on the viewer, turned it on, and then reached into his breast pocket for his glasses. Resolutely not looking at her.

“So, let me get this straight,” Sabrina had suggested that he wasn't awful, but she’d just let him get under her skin. And then he did shit like this. “You talked to Stewart and Noah before you talked to me about our patient?” He ignored her. Outright.

“If you’re still concerned, let’s get a second opinion.” He turned and spotted Griffin Richards walking across the ward, cup of coffee in one hand, a stack of files in the other. Sofia liked Griffin; he was an excellent GS surgeon with a flair for the upper GI. He was committed to helping people and passionate about the NHS. Patients came first and she’d only ever seen him play politics to that end. He was a good colleague, even if his personal life was a bit of a shambles. Discreetly she peeked at his hands, no wedding band this morning. So, he was on the outs with his wife this week.

“Ah, Mr. Richards, would you be so kind as to act as arbitrator?” He waved Griffin over politely.

“For what?” He asked, giving Magnusson a wary look but gifting her with a warm smile. He was a handsome and charming man; it was easy to see how he got his wife. It was only a shame that it didn’t seem like he was able to keep her.

“Pheochromocytoma on the adrenal gland that has attached itself to the diaphragm.” Magnusson used the ear piece of his glasses to point to the tumor.

“Mr. Magnusson seems keen to slice and dice, despite the fact the patient has MS.”

“And you would do what exactly, Ms. Hale? Key hole through the chest?” It was a valid option, but he said it as if he might have said, “Try crystal healing?” Griffin put on his own glasses and studied the scan quietly for a moment, sipping his coffee.

“Well if it were my patient, given the position of the tumor, I would suggest you and I operate together.” Another smile, this one less charming as he’d just sold her out. Magnusson was smiling as well, thin lipped and smug as hell.

“And there’s our answer,” he tapped the scan with his glasses, “a CT/GS collaboration, as I was saying. Thank you, Mr. Richards. I’ll see you on the ice, Ms. Hale.” And with that he walked off. Just like that. Sofia knew she was gawping, but she couldn’t help it, the arrogance of the man left her speechless.

Dieser Arschgesicht!

Well, perhaps not entirely…

Ms. Hale was already at the sink when he arrived for surgery. She was in pale blue scrubs today, unlike the wine-colored ones he’d first met her in, her dark curls covered by her floral cap. She didn’t look up at him as she scrubbed her hands but gave him a slight nod as he took the faucet next to her to begin his own cleansing ritual.

“I have reasons for wanting to do a keyhole procedure on Mr. Baxter, it’s not just a ‘CT’ thing or whatever you seem to think. If we do keyhole-”

“We’re doing this open procedure, Ms. Hale.”

“But there’s a risk of-”

“The theatre is set up.” Her cayenne lips pursed into a stubborn line. Her face was already so expressive, but with her mouth painted bright red it was impossible not to look at her lips. They were full, with a cupid’s bow, and clearly holding back several things she’d like to say. Her eyes said them for her, sparking as she gave him a last look before heading off to get her gown and gloves on. If she was half as dynamic of a surgeon as she was as a woman this was going to be quite the operation.

Perhaps it was because she had a scalpel in her hands, but Magnusson was at least inclined to follow her instructions while they were in theatre. He retracted when asked, clamped where she needed him to clamp and generally stayed out of her way as she dealt with Mr. Baxter’s diaphragm. She also didn’t need to look up from her work to know that he was watching her every move with a critical eye.

“Enjoying your foray into Cardiothoracics?” He’d declined the suggestion of background music, leaving nothing to fill the silence except for either one’s thoughts or small talk. And Sofia Grace never much liked being alone with her own thoughts.

“Believe it or not, I was not considering my life lacking in any way for not spending time playing with people’s hearts. What is it about CT surgeons thinking the heart is the only organ in the body?” She’d meant it as small talk, a reference to the fact he was currently assisting her. But nope, he was gunna be an ass about this too. Jesus H. Christ and a windmill full of corpses what is his problem?!

“To be fair, it is kinda important.” He didn’t look up and neither did she as she finished off the last stitch she needed, and they could transition from the more CT oriented to GS oriented surgery.

“It likes to think that, certainly.” He said, picking up a scalpel. “Whereas the kidneys just get on with their job, filtering toxins out and letting the body function. Efficient, beautiful, and secure enough in themselves that they don’t need to shout about it.” Normally she would argue that picking a favorite or most important body part was a stupid endeavor. Most of the organs in the body were necessary and linked together in ways that pulling one out of the system without compensating for it would lead to problems in a variety of other areas. There was no one organ that was better than any other body part, there was only what needed to be dealt with immediately or later to ensure quality of life.

This being said, if he was just going to talk shit because he had some weird hang-up about CT surgeons, she’d double down for the heart. (It was her favorite organ, even if picking favorites was stupid).

“So indispensable you can lose one and still survive.”

“Hack a piece of kidney off and it’ll just grow back,” He picked up a scalpel, “the minute the heart breaks it becomes a useless piece of tissue. And then of course there’s the fact we can now replace a faulty heart with a machine the size of a cigarette packet.” He shot her a look over the top of his glasses before he started cutting, she could almost see the smug smirk behind his surgical mask.

“And in some cases, Mr. Magnusson, it seems as if people can survive without any heart at all.” She met his eye steadily, arching one brow defiantly. He stared at her for a moment. Somewhere behind her, someone sounding a lot like Dan Flannery whispered, “Ooo burn.”

“We need to keep moving.” He muttered awkwardly, getting back to the task at hand.

A hit, a very palpable hit.

They worked in silence after that, only the beeps and pings of the machines and occasional request breaking up the quiet.

“BP is plummeting.” Magnusson reported calmly. This was exactly why she hadn’t wanted to do open surgery in the first place.

“If we had gone with the keyhole procedure-”

Which we did not so I fail to see the usefulness of that comment.” He snapped, voice cold and quick and sharp.  Brooking no retort.

“We did not go with the keyhole procedure because you decided that we shouldn’t, not because we mutually agreed this method. You decided what was best for this procedure, without listening to my reasons, I might add.”

“I am trying to concentrate, Ms. Hale, if you don’t mind?” Out of respect for Mr. Baxter she bit back the rest of what she wanted to say. At least for the moment.

“It’s funny that of all the words to get lost in translation, partners, seems to mean nothing to you.” Mr. Baxter was now Pheochromocytoma free and on his way back to bed for his recovery.

“What?” Magnusson looked at her sideways as she began washing her hands beside him at the sink. Thoroughly washing her hands gave her something to focus on while she tried to find the right words. There were so many things she wanted to say. Most of them rude. But as therapeutic she’d find it to smash his face in and curse him out, it wouldn’t change what she needed to have changed. Word on the street was he would be staying at Saint Seb’s for the foreseeable future, she needed to play the long game, not for immediate gratification.

“In addition to unilaterally deciding on the method of today’s surgery without consulting me, your CT specialist for this surgery and Co-consultant. You also figured out some significant information about our shared patient and did not tell me.” He stopped washing his hands to stare at her, hands raised slightly, allowing the soap and water to drip down his long forearms to the floor. “No, instead, you went straight to the patient himself and explained everything, leaving me in the dark, and then looking like a complete ass with my dick in the wind trying to discuss his condition without the full picture. To compound this, you swoop in and make me look even more stupid in front of our patient. A patient who already had limited regard for my expertise and position as a Doctor.” She turned the faucet off with her elbow and flicked the excess water from her hands into the sink with a flourish before turning to face him. He was staring at her intently, square jaw working but his mouth wisely closed.

“You complain that I make arrogant, rash decisions and that surgeons who make decisions for their own ends are a menace. Next time you work with me, you either keep me in the loop and treat me as an equal or find someone else to handle your heart.” She didn’t wait for his response, instead she grabbed a towel from beside him and brushed past, leaving him alone in the scrub room.

[redrobin-detective]

The Long Way Around 11

Finally! The good stuff! I know this is just SF prep but golly, I do like this chapter because it's the first time I feel Izuku has really come into his own. It took a little bit to get here, but looking back to chapter one, our boy has come a long way. I hope you enjoy! The Sports Festival is 5 chapters of intense physical and emotional battles.

Also this is the last of the biweekly updates. The next chapter will out next Sunday!

AO3/Fanfiction

Chapter Eleven: That's the Idea, Patrick

The door to 1-A is... quite huge.

Izuku finds himself staring outside the door admiring just how large it was because he was stalling. Yes, he was big enough to admit it. It had been a great idea at the time, baking nearly twelve dozen cookies with his mom yesterday morning with the intention of handing them out to 1-A but now that he's actually here, he was doubting himself. After the week they've had, the last thing those hero kids probably want is to see the quirkless kid in General Education.

And besides all that, he still doesn't know if Kacchan will be coming in today. Izuku had stopped by his house twice yesterday to check on him. The first time Kacchan had been asleep and the second time he'd refused to see Izuku. Kacchan would be crazy to be in school barely a day after his injuries but somehow Izuku suspects he'll be there anyway. And what would Kacchan do if he saw Izuku, especially after their disastrous encounter in the cafeteria?

That's the question that has Izuku hovering outside 1-A's homeroom early on a Wednesday morning.

"Excuse me, do you need help?" a light voice says from behind him. Izuku turns and hears a delighted little gasp. "Oh it's you! From the entrance exam!" Izuku catches sight of bouncing brown hair and a friendly smile and he blushes from head to toe. It was the friendly girl he'd almost knocked over in front of the Heroics exam entrance. She pops before him with a bright smile.

"Yep, it's me, I uh remember you too," Izuku grins back awkwardly. "Uh sorry about what happened, back then but-but I'm uh glad to see you passed the exam."

"Oh don't worry about it, I run into people all the time," the girl says with a cute little chuckle. "I'm happy to see you got into Yuuei too. I can't believe I haven't seen you around, are you in 1-B?"

"Oh no, I uh well, I went for the General exam and that's where I am now, class 1-C. I mean I'm sure it's not nearly as exciting as your class is but it's nice, I like it." Izuku babbles, feeling his face heat up as he continues to embarrass himself. "I um," Izuku swallows nervously and looks at her cute face which only doubles his nervousness. Oh boy. He shakily holds out the box containing the cookies.

"I-I heard about what happened the other day, with um USJ not that I thought you'd uh forgotten or anything. But my mom and I baked a bunch of cookies and I thought it might be nice to share some with you guys. A-as a bit of a pick-me-up," Izuku stammers. Luckily, the nice girl doesn't seem bothered by the fact that he's making a fool of himself.

"That is so sweet of you! Thank you so much! Everyone will love that! Oh, I don't think we've been properly introduced, I'm Urakara Ochako! Here let me lighten your load a little." She says, brushing her fingers on the side of the box, instantly lightening it as she takes the box out of his hands. He thinks back to when he started floating at the entrance exam and a lightbulb goes off in his head.

"Zero Gravity!" Izuku says out loud only to backtrack. "Uh not that you wouldn't know the name of your own quirk, I uh," he fiddles awkwardly with his hands and looks away. "I'm Midoriya Izuku," he finishes lamely.

"Well it's nice to officially meet you," Urakara says cheerily, shifting the box's hold in her arms. "There's still some time until homeroom begins, why don't you say hi to everyone?" she says as she slides opens the enormous door. Izuku shakes his head and backs up.

"N-no, I don't want to," have a confrontation with Kacchan, "bother anyone. I just wanted to drop that off. Besides, I need to get back to my own classroom. It was nice seeing you again, Urakara!" He says with a wave, turning to head back to 1-C when the weight in his coat pocket stops him.

"Oh wait, one more thing," he tells Urakara, digging into his pocket. "Please give these ones to Kac- uh Bakugou, they're cinnamon, his favorite," Izuku says as he deposits the small baggie on top of the box.

"Bakugou was pretty beat up the other day," Urakara says with a little frown. "I don't think he'll be in for a few more days but I can save them for when he's back."

"You don't know Kacchan then," Izuku says with a wry smile. "He'd crawl here using only his teeth if he had to." The warning bell rings above him. "I hope you enjoy the cookies, maybe I'll see you around!" He says with a wave as he begins the long sprint back towards the General Education department. He reaches the door to 1-C just as the final bell rings.

"Sorry, I was-" Izuku says in between panting breaths.

"Enough, just get in your seat, this announcement especially concerns you." Chiura-sensei says with a dismissive wave, waiting for Izuku to stumble over to his seat and settle for a moment before continuing. "I'm sure you're all aware that the Yuuei Sports Festival is just around the corner. In two weeks, the lines between departments will become broken down and blurred as you will stand beside Business, Support and Heroics students and compete on live television."

"It's something of an open secret," Sensei continues on passively, "that hero class 1-A has an available spot and the teachers will be actively scouting for someone to fill that position. I've worked with Aizawa before and he may be a stickler but he's reliable. This isn't an opportunity that happens very often, the chances of this happening again in your high school career are minimal." Izuku sits up straighter as he feels his teacher's hard gaze land on him.

"Midoriya, Shinsou," Sensei says, "both of you have the ambition to become heroes and this Festival is your best chance. I said at the start of this semester that transfers don't happen often and that's because so few are capable of it." Chiura-sensei smiles and it's not exactly a warm smile but instead fills Izuku with a fiery passion. "All you have to do is make a good showing at the Sports Festival and, if I feel you've earned it, I'll give both of you a recommendation. So train hard, this could be your hero academia."

"You can do it, Midoriya," a voice speaks up. It's Fuyuko at the front of the class, he's turned around in his seat to smile at Izuku. "You show those hero kids what the quirkless can accomplish."

"Yeah, fight on Izu-kun!" Kyoshi says with an enthusiastic pump into the air. "You too Hito-kun! You can do it!"

"Make 1-C proud," Motome says with a small little smile. "Show them what you're made of."

"Kick their ass, Midoriya!" Kamoto shouts, banging on his desk a few times. "Put those punks in their place with your sick martial arts moves and show us a real good time!" And pretty soon the whole class is clapping and cheering them on. Chiura-sensei, normally so quick to silence any unauthorized talking, just stands there with a knowing smile on his face.

Izuku finds his face getting hot and even worse, his eyes getting wet. He sure has come far in a month, in a year. Fuyuko had been too embarrassed to speak to him a week ago, Kamoto had been making fun of him on the first day of school. Even Shinsou, who'd started the school year angry and isolated, looks around at the cheers being sent his way.

Patrick and Taketsu are grinning and throwing in their own congratulatory words. Even Korudo, who Izuku would expect to be sullen has a warm look on his face as he claps his hands together.

"Thank you everyone," Izuku blubbers. "Seriously, your support, you have no idea what this means to me." He scrubs at his face, trying to pull himself together. "I'm going to do my best, I'm going to shoot for the very top and let the world know what the quirkless are capable of." He continues in a much steadier voice, trying to make his voice heard above the cheers.

Yes, he was going to use this positive synergy and shoot all the way for the moon. But what was that saying? Even if you miss the moon, you'll still land amongst the stars. He was going to give it everything he had, and then some, at the Sports Festival. But it wouldn't be the worst thing, he thinks looking around at his classmates fondly, if he stayed right where he was among friends.

XxX

The two weeks leading up to the Sports Festival seem to go by in a blur but, looking back, Izuku doesn't think he could have done anything more to prepare.

He spent his class periods robotically taking notes even while he mentally compiled strategies and worked through plans on how to defeat any quirk he came across.

He even took some time to talk to his other classmates in 1-C, a few of them coming over to wish him luck during lunch or throughout the day. To think Izuku started the school year feeling out of place and now people were voluntarily seeking out his company.

Aneko had stopped by their table once or twice as well, just as much a whirlwind as she had been the first time. She'd done good work promoting excitement for their performance in the Festival. In addition, she also gave Izuku some more tips on how to refine his image. A couple of her suggestions were a bit out there but she was right in that if he wanted attention, he had to grab it with his own two hands.

Only a few days after USJ he got the call from Hatsume that his equipment was ready to be picked up and tested out. The bō staff she'd created, the one he'd painstakingly described and workshopped with her, came out better than he could have ever dreamed. It was 134 cm in length, perfectly measured to suit his size.

It was made up of a mix of steel and tungsten to make a weapon that could stand up against most physical attacks along with inconel which was incredibly heat resistant should Izuku find himself up against Kacchan. Part of the bō was collapsible meaning he could easily strap it to his back when he wasn't using it. He'd asked Hatsume to add some gripping material to the middle half to allow for easier handling. He'd flipped it around experimentally, testing the weight and it felt good, like an old friend.

In addition, Hatsume really outdid herself with his protective gear. She'd modified some biker's gloves but with additional protection and heat buffers. There were steel tips in his knuckles meaning he could really pack a punch with these things. Same with his steel lined boots, designed to give his kicks additional weight but also for added shock absorption. He was really impressed with her idea to add small cleats in the tread should also prevent him from slipping on uneven terrain.

In some way, it felt like he was cheating to have such specialized equipment but Izuku recognized that he was already at a massive disadvantage without a quirk and all this did was even the playing field a bit. Hatsume herself was planning on using the Festival to show off all the other crazy inventions she'd made over the semester. When he'd asked how he could possibly repay her for her incredible work, she'd just waved him off and told him to put her 'babies' to good use. That, he'd told her, wouldn't be a problem.

Izuku trained with his weapon endlessly, throwing it around before and after school, twirling and twisting it in his living room to gain familiarity and dexterity. The bō was heavier than the wooden staffs Izuku was used to, but he'd built up his muscles over the past year and adapted to the weight easily enough. He swung and flipped and lunged for hours and hours until the bō felt like an extension of his own arms, until he felt ready to take on the whole world with it.

He'd practiced a few times with the gloves and boots too but never with his friends. It was humbling to realize how much more dangerous his accessories made him, how easy it would be to break bones or cause serious damage with a kick or a punch. Izuku worried about it, late at night as he wondered just how badly he wanted that open hero spot. Yes, he wanted to win but he didn't want his victory to come at the cost of someone else's safety.

"It's easy to learn how to hurt people, Midoriya," Rikimaru-shishou said when Izuku had brought it up once during their training sessions. "It's another thing entirely to disable without harming, which is the true goal of martial arts. So many people, like that bully of yours, only see fighting as a show of strength. But you see the art as a way to save, rather than hurt, others. Your kind nature is one of your better points but in a serious fight it can also be a weakness."

"I know," Izuku said, dodging his master's attacks with his bō. "You know how badly I want to prove myself and I know I'm capable of being a strong opponent but I'm also afraid. These weapons, my training; I could really hurt someone with them. How do I know how much is okay?" Rikimaru-shishou smirked and stopped his attack.

"Of course the quirkless kid would ask me that," Shishou said with a wry grin. "Learning to regulate your power so it doesn't hurt yourself or others is the first lesson most people with quirks learn, especially the dangerous ones. I can't tell you how many times when I was a kid I got stuck to the ground, unable to move and unable to figure out how to regulate my power."

"So how did you learn?" Izuku asked.

"Practice and a knowledge of myself and my body. You need to look hard at yourself and ask how far you are willing to go to get what you want. It's easier said than done, I admit, and I can guarantee you that in the heat of battle, your priorities are going to shift when your dream and maybe even your life is on the line," Shishou assured him.

"But how do I-"

"You'll just know, kid. Look at your opponent and how they're faring. You'll know when you're going too hard or being too soft. That's all I can tell you, Midoriya. Use your head, listen to your gut and use both of them to make the right choice. I wouldn't get too worked up over it, everyone knows this is just a high school tournament. Besides, Yuuei has some of the best medical facilities if you do happen to crack a few heads," Rikimaru-shishou said with a wink.

"I don't want-" Izuku began only to have his staff wrenched out of his hand and used to knock him off his feet. He blinked dazedly from the floor, feeling the sting of his own weapon being used against him.

"Like I said, your kindness is also your weakness," Shishou knelt down, still holding onto his bō. "Don't you ever forget that you will be a lamb in a den of lions. I admire your desire not to hurt others but you will be the weakest link out there and you will have to be tough and you may even have to be vicious just to stay afloat, do you hear me?"

Izuku frowned and aimed a quick kick at his master's face, it wasn't intended to land but it did make him withdraw slightly which gave Izuku the room to sit up and deliver a more powerful blow to the man's side. While Rikimaru-shishou was dealing with the hit; his grip on the staff slackened, giving Izuku the opportunity to steal it back and put one of the dulled edges at the older man's neck.

"Yeah, I hear you," Izuku replied cheekily as he settled into a strong stance, ready for whatever counterattacks his tricky master had up his sleeve.

"You know, I think that's first time you've ever been able to best me," Shishou said, not looking all that upset. "Keep up that attitude and those kids are going to fold like paper under you." He shook his head slowly with a proud smile on his face. "You know a year ago, I'd have said it was next to impossible for a quirkless kid to be a hero but I'll be damned if you haven't convinced me. You go out there Midoriya and you show the world what you showed me."

"I will Shishou," Izuku responded, for once free of tears because he was too full of passion to feel anything but steady. If his master thought he could do it, then all Izuku had to do is go out and prove it. "I won't let you down."

"Oh I don't believe you will," Shishou smirked. "Now show me a little more of that attitude young man. I want to see what those punks are going to face in the ring." Izuku grinned back and threw himself into the attack.

XxX

"I can't believe how fast that time went," Taketsu says, looking a little panicked. "Can you believe the Sports Festival is tomorrow?" Hitoshi can't help but give her an annoyed look. He likes Taketsu well enough, she's smart and she has a wicked sense of humor but her tendency to be all talk and no action was a little grating at times. Oh well, he supposes not everyone could be as crazy driven as Midoriya.

"It's fine, you'll be fine," Midoriya says with a cheerful smile. "We've all been working very hard and I'm sure we'll do well. Even Shinsou has learned how to throw a proper punch," he adds cheekily.

Now Hitoshi would have taken offense in the past, taken Midoriya's comment as a sign of disrespect but he lets it slide. He's learned a lot in the past two weeks about how people work and how their company can be enjoyable and aggravating in equal part.

"It's a miracle and maybe one of these days you'll stop falling for my quirk," Hitoshi retorts causing both Takamitsu and Taketsu to snicker to themselves. "Come on, school's over but I have somewhere I need to go first."

"What am I supposed to do? Not answer you at all? How will we be friends if I can't talk to-" Hitoshi activates his quirk and Midoriya freezes. Korudo groans as he waves his hand in front the Midoriya's face.

"Doesn't that get old after a while? It's like taking candy from a small child, there's no honor in it," Korudo comments.

"Put your stuff away and pick up your bag, Midoriya," Hitoshi commands as he also gathers his things. "If he doesn't want to be brainwashed then he should learn to be quiet."

"It's called being nice, Shinsou, you could learn something from it." Taketsu says with a disapproving look but there's an amused tilt to her mouth that hadn't been there previously. A lot has changed in the last two weeks and he can't say it's all been bad. "Now cut it out so we can leave, where did you need to go anyway?"

"You guys don't have to come but I'm checking out 1-A," Hitoshi announces as he frees Midoriya who's looking down at the bag in his hands like he has no idea how it got there. "They're the ones to beat this year, the ones who were attacked by villains the second week of school," he says as they walk out of their classroom. "Maybe you should come too, Midoriya, after all, you're going to need all the advantages you can get."

"I'll go," Midoriya adds, once again seemingly unaffected by the fact that Shinsou just took over his body. "Not just to see the class but I also want to check in on Kacchan too. His cast came off last week ago but I'm still worried about him fighting so soon after his injury."

"Remind me again, this is the same Kacchan who tried to fry you in the cafeteria week one? The one who starts screaming like he's possessed if he sees you in the hall?" Korudo asks like he's afraid of the answer.

"We have a complicated relationship," Midoriya says casually. Midoriya... has terrible taste in friends, present company included.

"You're a mess," Korudo sighs, echoing Hitoshi's thoughts. "Just avoid that freak in the Festival tomorrow, okay? There's going to be a lot going on and we won't always be there to help you out. Who knows what that maniac will do if given half a chance."

"He's not going to hurt me and I keep telling you, I don't need you guys to babysit me," Midoriya remarks testily. "Kacchan used to bully me a lot in the past but we've moved beyond that, we're both different now."

"Yeah, but does he know that?" Korudo says, pointing on ahead to the huge crowd gathered around class 1-A. Looks like Hitoshi wasn't the only one who'd thought about scoping out the competition. And sure enough, front and center, Midoriya's childhood friend is standing imperiously in front of the crowd.

"It's pointless to try so why don't you piss off, you goddamn mob," the blond bully spits out causing the kids both inside and outside the classroom to start yelling at him. Jeez what an asshole, what does Midoriya even see in him?

"Kacchan, why do you have to escalate every situation?" Midoriya moans quietly under his breath.

Hitoshi has only known Midoriya for about a month, been friendly with him for even less but still that stupidly naïve idiot has grown on him. His drive to succeed despite his setbacks, his ability to switch from ruthless to kind in an instant and the incredible fact that he still willingly opens his mouth to Hitoshi despite suffering the consequences time and again. Hitoshi would never say it outloud, but he's got a lot of respect for Midoriya. Maybe that's why when that red-eyed bully catches sight of Midoriya in the crowd, Hitoshi steps forward.

"I came to see what you hero kids are made of but I had no idea you were so arrogant," Hitoshi says above the din of the crowd, nudging his way through. "Are all the Heroics students as bad as you, Kacchan?" he teases, drawing the bully's attention away from Midoriya and onto him. "I'm disappointed, really I am."

"There's lots of kids who end up in General Education or the other departments because they failed the entrance exam. And based on the results of the Sports Festival, people can possible be transferred into Heroics," Hitoshi thinks of himself while he speaks, of his own ambitions, but also Midoriya who has worked harder than anyone just to be on equal footing. He then looks at this bully, his face a snarl of anger and pride, who doesn't deserve to hold a spot in Heroics.

"And the reverse is also true. So maybe I am here to scope out the competition but a Gen Ed kid like me is also thinking, 'why don't I pull the rug out from under these hero students while they're riding high? This," Hitoshi concludes with a smirk, "is a declaration of war."

"Yeah," Korudo says, pushing through the crowd to stand beside him in solidarity. "Just because you've tussled with villains doesn't mean you should get comfy. Class 1-C, and everyone else, is coming for you and you had better be prepared." Pretty soon, even more kids were making their declarations known, from class 1-B all the way down to a couple of other Gen Ed kids from other classes.

"Out of my way, extras," Midoriya's Kacchan sneers, trying to get through the crowd even as Hitoshi spotted Midoriya and Taketsu coming in closer out of the corner of his eye. Oh that wasn't going to end well at all.

"Hey man, what did you just do?" A voice from within 1-A shouts. "Stop getting the haters all up in our grill!"

"It doesn't matter," the bully says, "none of that matters once you're at the-" It looks like he's spotted Midoriya. Shinsou is pushing his way through the crowd to intervene if necessary. This close, Hitoshi can see the ugly scars on Kacchan's right hand from the attack at USJ. He frowns, he isn't going to start something in this big of a crowd, is he?

"K-k-kacchan!" Midoriya squeaks, already tensed and ready for a confrontation despite his supposed nerves. Takamitsu and Korudo, always on Midoriya protection duty, look ready to jump in themselves. "I'm uh I'm glad to see you're doing better. Did you get the cookies I made for you? They were uh your favorite."

For a moment, it looks like Kacchan is going to explode like he did that time in the cafeteria. Instead, the blond stalks forward and roughly brushes past Midoriya.

"Stay out of my goddamn way tomorrow, Deku or I'll fucking crush you." He says in a surprisingly calm voice before pushing his way through the crowd and then begins to walk down the hall.

Midoriya stares after him with a thoughtful but powerfully determined face. Hitoshi can't help but smirk, whatever happens, tomorrow should prove interesting at least. After all, anything could happen when Midoriya set his mind to something. The hero kids have no idea what was coming their way.

XxX

Toshinori is trying to doing his best to get out of the school unnoticed. Because he's in his true form, the students don't pay him any mind but the Principal and Recovery Girl have been nagging him about his health and recklessness and he's just not in the mood for that right now. His time with One For All has diminished significantly since the attack at USJ plus he's been spitting up more blood than usual and gotten noticeably weaker. He's so tired, he just wants some peace.

"Yagi-san!" he starts and clutches at his chest as Young Midoriya bounces before him with worried eyes. "Ah, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to startle you, are you alright?"

"Yes, yes, perfectly fine my boy," Toshinori says behind his fist as he quickly wipes the blood away from his mouth. "It's good to see you again. I trust you're ready for the Festival?"

"I am," Young Midoriya nods confidently. "I know it will be difficult for someone like me but I'm going to go out there and give everything I have with no regrets."

"Someone like you?" Toshinori questions.

"Oh well," the boy ducks his head a little before making eye contact again, "I'm quirkless you see." He chuckles and rubs at his neck, "it must sound kind of silly to you, a quirkless kid trying to be a hero but it's been my dream since I was a kid. After USJ, I'm more determined than ever to be someone who saves others, even in small ways."

Toshinori wonders if it's just him or if everyone is just as surprised by Young Midoriya. The boy shuffles his feet a little bit at the scrutiny but otherwise holds his ground. It had been hard being quirkless when he was a boy. He can't imagine how difficult it must be nowadays when quirks are so much more prevalent. What fortitude it must take to not only to live with that label but to own it.

"Some might call it silly," Toshinori says with a smile, "but I think it's brave to follow your dreams despite adversity."

"Brave," the young man mutters to himself before standing up straighter. "I guess it is in a way. Thank you, Yagi-san. I don't know how it'll go tomorrow but at least I'll know I didn't back down."

"I'll be rooting for you," Toshinori says sincerely. "I don't want to keep you, young man. Enjoy your day and be sure to get plenty of rest for tomorrow."

"I will," Young Midoriya chirps. "Also, this uh may be a little weird but you haven't by any chance seen All Might around? I've been um looking for him since the semester began. I overheard someone say he was over this way so..." Toshinori coughs into his fist at the unexpected question, suddenly very conscious of his, All Might's, yellow suit.

"Ah I'm sorry but I believe he left alright, you know saving people and such," Toshinori lies awkwardly, looking up at the ceiling uncomfortably. "But he'll be at the Sports Festival tomorrow, I hear he'll be the one giving out the medals."

"I guess I'll just have to win a medal then," Young Midoriya says in a joking tone but his eyes convey how absolutely serious he is. Toshinori wants to grin, this boy was not someone who should be underestimated. "Well my mom's probably waiting on me, it was good seeing you again, Yagi-san," Young Midoriya says with a wave as he disappears into the crowd.

"You show them, my boy," Toshinori says quietly to himself, "for us quirkless boys."

XxX

It was finally here, Izuku's one and maybe only chance to make it into Yuuei's hero department. Well, it would be here tomorrow. It's only 10 pm but he's already ready for bed as he needs to be up extra early tomorrow. Izuku finishes working through his nightly stretches even though he didn't train today but the routine is relaxing in it's familiarity.

In a way, he's almost calm despite his nervousness which is the opposite of how much of a wreck he was before the entrance exam. He'd tossed and turned for hours then but now Izuku feels steady as a rock as he crawls into his bed, his normal anxiety strangely muted.

Maybe it's because he's grown a lot these past couple of weeks, become happier with himself and more confident in his capabilities. Even if he had more time to train, Izuku doesn't think he could be any more prepared than he is now. He has to be, he has a lot of people supporting him: his mom, Taketsu, Patrick, Korudo, Shinsou. Then there was Chiura-sensei and Rikimaru-shishou and even Kacchan has inspired Izuku in his own way.

Before the entrance exam, Izuku had been beating himself up for not trying to take the Heroics test. While he can't say he knows how his life would have turned out had he gone for Heroics, he thinks he made the right decision going into General Education. He doesn't regret any of the time he spent in that class, getting to know all those wonderful people.

The All Might poster on the wall next to him grins widely, his strong, powerful arms resting on his hips as he strikes a heroic pose. Izuku still hasn't seen the hero in person yet but maybe tomorrow, if he's lucky, he'll get the chance to ask the question that's always burning in the back of his mind. All he has to do is beat all of the kids in Heroics, not to mention General Education, Business and Support. He smirks to himself, for the sake of his dream, he'd take on the Number One himself.

"Wait for me All Might, I'm coming. I'm not big or strong like you and I can't do all the things the other students will be able to do but I'm through letting other people tell me what I can and can't do. Wait for me, I'll make you proud, I promise." With that said, Izuku turns over in his bed and quickly falls asleep and when he dreams, he dreams of victory.

[thats-pucking-amazing]

Secrets *Requested* (Nico Hischier)

@shashefski asked:  Can you do a Nico Hischier one with the #83 “Yes, a date" prompt ? Please and thank you💕

I’m so sorry it took me so long!! I moved into college and then it was NSI and classes started...and I’m a procrastinator by nature. ANYWAY....I hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: Nope

Requests: OPEN

Up Next: Patrick Kane

“With our first pick in the 2017 entry draft…” You bit your lip and leaned forward on your couch. It was almost 2am in Naters, not that it was stopping you from streaming the draft, along with basically everyone in town. It was a small town and nobody wanted to miss Nico being drafted. Nico was well-known in the town, a mini celebrity...which came with the territory when he was getting ready to put your town of 8,000 on the map.

Nico was more than just the town golden boy...he was your best friend. As cliche as it was, your mothers had been best friends and the two of you were raised together. He was 13 days older than you and the two of you had never spent more than a day without talking to each other. When he travelled with hockey you often went with his parents and when that wasn’t an option, skype and phone calls kept the two of you close. It was safe to say that your teachers liked it better when you were apart, since together the two of you caused nothing but trouble. Harmless pranks, jokes, and occasionally a few broken things often trailed in your wake.

“...From the Halifax Mooseheads...Nico Hischier.” You stared wide eyed at the screen...and then let out a piercing scream of joy. You threw your bowl of popcorn from your lap, spilling it all over the floor as you did a victory dance. Your best friend, the boy you had known all your life was the number one draft pick for the NHL...the very best league in the world.

“Y/N!!” You heard your mother shout. She appeared at the top of the stairs wrapped in a robe. “It is 2am! You need to watch the volume!! And clean up your mess!”

“MOM! NICO WAS DRAFTED FIRST! THE FIRST PICK OVERALL!!” You yelled, still shaking with excitement.

“HE WAS?!” Her volume matched yours. Nico had spent just as much time at your house as you had at his. Your mother considered him one of her sons and she was constantly bothering you to date him so it would be official. You weren’t averse to that idea...not that anybody...especially Nico would ever find out.

“YES!” The two of you did a victory dance. “I’m going to call him and leave a message so he know’s I was watching.”

“I’m going to call Katja to congratulate her,” Your mom said before disappearing back up the stairs.

You pulled out your phone and called the first person in your contacts. Nico. Or rather AAA Nico. You listened to it ring and then heard his voice tell you to leave a message.

“I know you’re super busy right now with the interviews and everything...BECAUSE YOU WERE THE FIRST OVERALL PICK!! I AM SO PROUD OF YOU!! Call me when you get the chance!!! Love you!” You ended the call and just leaned back in your seat...your best friend was going to be in the NHL.

You were woken up at 8am by your phone ringing. Groggily you picked it up and answered. “Huh?”

“Did I wake you?” The voice of Nico came through.

“NICO?!” You sat straight-up, suddenly wide awake.

He laughed. “That’s been my name all my life. Did I wake you up?”

“I mean yeah, but that doesn’t matter. You know that our friendship trumps everything! How are you feeling?? Overwhelmed?”

“Our friendship trumps everything but the crush you had on Luca when we were eight.”

“Will you never let that go?? It’s a good thing I didn’t go on your failed excursion of a hike...you broke your arm!! And stop avoiding my question! How are you feeling?”

He sighed. “Do you want the honest version or the version I told the reporters?”

“Nico, Babe….always honest.”

“I’m ecstatic. But I’m also super concerned...like...what if they chose wrong? It’s a lot of pressure. People are going to expect so much and I can’t deliver everything.”

“Nico…listen. You are a phenomenal player and that is why they picked you first. They did not choose wrong. It’s ok to feel pressure, just don’t let it crush you...you’re stronger than it. And Nico...screw what people expect. People may expect you to be the number one draft pick, but they also expect you to be a teenager and make mistakes. So just take a breath.”

You heard him audibly inhale. “Thanks. I really needed that.”

“I already knew that. I’m your best friend...I know all things about you.”

He snorted, “I doubt you know everything. I have some secrets.”

“Oh yeah right.” You laughed loudly. “I’ve known you all my life. I know all of your embarrassing secrets...your secret hiding places for stuff...your crushes...everything.”

“I’m telling you,” He insisted. “You don’t know my biggest secret. I’ve kept it since I was 13 and have told nobody. Not even you.”

You let out a fake gasp of shock. “What?? You’ve betrayed our friendship code and kept a secret?”

“It’s true. And want to know something else? I’m not telling you my secret until I see you in person. And before you ask...skype doesn’t count.”

“But when will that be???” You whined.

“Sooner than you may think.” He answered cryptically. “I’ll talk to you later. I’m going to go to sleep...it’s almost 2am here.”

“I’m going to try and go back to sleep. Enjoy things, you only get drafted first once. I love you, Nico.”

“Love you, too.”

Less than 30 minutes later, you were woken up by the sound of your mother rustling through the house. She had two suitcases with her and seemed to be in a big hurry.

“Mom? What’s going on?” You asked.

“Your grandmother fell and broke her hip this morning, so we’re going down to help out around the area. My dad isn’t quite what he used to be and he can’t handle it all.” She rushed through her explanation. “I packed your suitcase, but if you want to get your chargers and things...we need to leave in about 10 minutes to make it to the airport on time.”

Concern for your grandmother plagued your thoughts, but you grabbed your laptop, chargers, and earbuds and once they were all stuffed into your purse headed for the car. Your mother didn’t speak the whole ride, which was very out of character.

Once arrived at the airport your mother zoomed through people and went right through security. As soon as you’d passed she had taken your hand and was leading you towards the tarmac where your flight was boarding; she obviously wasn’t kidding about having to leave immediately to get to the airport on time. After fastening your seat belt you pulled out your earbuds and shuffled your music, it was a six hour flight to Greenland, where your grandmother lived. Four hours later you gave up on your battle against sleep and dozed off, confident your mother would wake you when the plane began its descent.

An unknown amount of time later, you were shaken awake by your mother. “We’re landing.” You fastened your seat belt and rubbed the sleep from your eyes. You blindly followed the exodus of people off the plane, but when you stepped into the terminal you stopped.

“Uh mom...did we take the wrong flight?” You looked out the glass windows to see skyscrapers in the distance. “Because this looks nothing like Greenland.”

Your mother gave a slight smile, “That’s because we’re not in Greenland.”

“Yeah, ok. That’s all well and good...but Grandma is not wherever we are. She’s in Greenland. I thought you were in a giant rush to get to her!”

“Your grandma is fine.”

“What!?” You shouted. “You lied? What the he-” Your rant was cut off as you were picked up and spun around in a circle. “Put me down!” You shouted at your unknown assailant.

“Is that anyway to treat your best friend?” A familiar voice asked.

You whipped your head around. “NICO?!” You threw your arms around him and then pulled back to make sure it was actually him before hugging him again. “What are you doing here?? I thought you were in Chicago!!”

“Idiot. You’re literally in O’Hare right now.” He said. “Our moms and I worked together to plan this.”

“Why?” You had yet to remove your arms from around his waist...but he didn’t seem to be in a huge hurry to move his from being wrapped around you either.

“You’ll find out later. Now we need to go.” Your mom interjected. “An airport terminal isn’t exactly a place for a reunion.” You and Nico followed your mom towards the baggage claim, still holding hands. It wasn’t uncommon for the two of you to be hand in hand as you walked around town or cuddle when you watched movies. It was just an accepted fact in your town.

“Do you have more interviews today?” Nico nodded in response to your question as you sat together in the back of a cab.

“I have three more scheduled for this afternoon. I don’t know how many ways I can answer the same question.” You chuckled lightly. “But after that we have plans.”

“I refuse to do anything with you until you tell me what this secret is.”

“Our plans have to do with the secret.”

You contemplated. “Fine.”

“Wonderful.” The taxi came to a stop in front of the hotel you were apparently staying at. “Be ready by 5pm. I’ll be here to pick you up. Love you.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead and then waved as he was whisked off to the location of his interviews.

You were ready and waiting by the door when he knocked 10 minutes before 5. After calling out a quick goodbye to your mom, the two of you headed out to the street. He led you along the sidewalk, still hand in hand, to a small restaurant on the corner.

The pre-set table had a vase with a white lily resting on a checkered table cloth. There were two small tea candles on each side of the vase. “This seems pretty fancy. If you’re trying to apologize for the secret, I’m really not mad at you.”

“I know you’re not mad. We’re here because I decided it was time to make it official and take you on a date.” He said simply.

You blinked owlishly. “Umm...did you say a date?”

“Yes. A date.I don’t know how you’ve remained oblivious all these years...but I’m pretty sure I’ve loved you since I was 12.”

“You love me? You want to date me?”

“Yes.”

You promptly burst into tears and ran away the table to throw your arms around his neck. “I thought I was the only one who felt that way.”

“Wait,” He leaned his head back so he could look at you. “You’ve felt this way too? And I was the one who got in trouble for keeping a secret?”

“That’s not important!” You brushed it off. “We’re dating now?”

“I’m pretty sure we’ve been dating for years...we just haven’t gave it an official name or actually kissed each other.”

“I am happy to remedy both of those situations.” You whispered. Then, did exactly that...pressing your lips to his.

Let me know if you see any blazing errors!

[bonscottintheimpala]

Oneshot plot: Reader is a close friend to all members of LZ but she secretly has a big crush on Jimmy but Robert knows it and she cooperates with Robert to find out what Jimmy thinks of her snd Jimmy gets jealous. Smut in the later part too? Btw your writing is so good! Keep it up!

Tbh I stan a good wingman Percy. 😂 And thank you so much for the compliment! 💖

-

Moby Dick Is A Wonderful Song

(Word count: 1,567) EXPLICIT

-

You're with the band at the venue in Inglewood. It's March 27, the night of the band's final concert of the ‘75 tour. Tensions are pretty high in their dressing room; you can almost feel the anxiety and simultaneous excitement thick in the air. But, sitting on a sofa in the middle of the dressing room, you're distracted from the loud voice of Peter Grant shouting the time left before the show starts and Bonzo clashing on a tabletop by one very specific thing in the room.

Jimmy had come in slightly late, already wearing his dragon suit bottoms but not the top. And, of course, he had decided to put the intricately embroidered jacket on after you came into the room with Robert ten minutes earlier. You can't take your eyes off of the lean muscles moving over his shoulders as he takes off his shirt, tensing and relaxing when he replaces it with the dragon suit top.

You jump when someone bumps your shoulder, and turn to find Robert giving you a knowing smirk.

“You aren't being very vague about that, (Y/N),” he teases, “If he was looking over here he'd tell that you were checking him out.”

You roll your eyes and smack him on the arm. “Shut up, Rob. If he was looking over here, I wouldn't be watching his back and dying about it. And besides, he doesn't really give off the air of being interested.”

“I've known him for a while. Trust me, (Y/N), he can look like he isn't interested even if he's just itching to get with someone.”

You sigh and turn back to Jimmy. He's sitting in a chair in the far left corner of the dressing room with his Les Paul in hand, tuning the strings carefully as not to break one. You notice his eyes flicker up to look at you for a fraction of a second, then he's back to his guitar.

You know that Robert's right. You've only really known the band for two years, and Percy has been around Jimmy for a little over six. You're pretty sure the singer knows his bandmate well enough by now to understand how the guitarist works.

Robert nudges you again to get your attention. The smirk is back on his face. “I have an idea to see if he's into you. We try to be really cuddly and all that shit around him. Hopefully it annoys him enough to get him to do something.”

You raise an eyebrow, questioning the proposition. “Won't he think that I like you that way, though?”

Percy waggles his finger at you. “Yet another thing to tell you. If he wants someone and they don't seem interested, he'll end up letting them know that he's the interested one. Again, (Y/N), I've known him for a while.”

Yet another point well made. “Okay, then. How do we go about this? Just pretend that you're saying something risque to me and I laugh like a fucking idiot?”

“Exactly. Then at Moby Dick, you come back here and best case scenario he follows you, too.”

The plan seems to be working perfectly, because after a few moments of exchanging stories to make you laugh and Robert puts an arm around you, he brings his mouth closer to your ear.

“Don't look now, but Jimmy just stared at me like he wanted to kill me. So safe to say it’s going very well.”

You nod. “So I’ll come back here right before Moby Dick?”

“It’d be a good idea to go back earlier. Maybe when he starts his solo during Trampled Underfoot. I'll tell him where you'll be and I'm sure he's going to come straight here.”

The two of you just knowingly smile at each other.

Jimmy is actually into you.

-

It feels like ages until the solo of Trampled Underfoot finally starts. You and Robert had secretly decided on a signal for you to go back to the dressing room; he'd do his usual hair flip, but follow it instantly with a spin. Which, of course, was not exactly a major surprise.

You've been watching the singer since there song started, hardly even blinking. Once he gives the signal, you practically run for the dressing room, but not before you just catch Jimmy looking at you as you do.

The wailing of Jimmy's guitar slowly fades when you get closer to the room, and it's completely silent once the door is closed behind you. It's kind of eerie; the lack of people and no hint of music gives you goosebumps that make you shiver. It's either that, or the anticipation of Jimmy hopefully joining you, but it's almost impossible to tell which.

You lounge on the sofa where you had been sitting with Robert at least an hour and a half -maybe even two hours- earlier. Staring up at the ceiling is all you can really think of doing other than just pacing around. If I'm just walking everywhere looking at things like I don't know what the fuck I'm doing, I'll look like a dumbass, you think to yourself as you keep your ears trained on the hallway outside for any hint of footsteps that could be coming close.

And then, after what seems like hours have passed, you can faintly hear the sound of someone almost sprinting down towards the dressing room door.

Your heart starts to pound in your chest the louder they get, and it all comes to a stop when the door opens.

Standing there, his long black hair sticking to his sweat soaked face, is James Patrick fucking Page.

Neither of you say anything for a minute, just stare at each other with wide eyes. Jimmy’s the first to talk.

“So…. Percy told me you’d be back here.”

“And did he say why?”

The guitarist steps forward so he can close the door behind him, still watching you. “He did. You two were pretty fucking sly about all that.” You stand up and can’t keep your breath from shaking as he gets closer and stands in front of you. “He didn’t, however, say exactly what the reason was for you to be back here.”

“I guess he thought it’d be nice to give us some time together. To just confirm if you actually do like me.”

“Do you think I’d be here if I didn’t? And after all,” he adds, his voice now slipping into a smooth and sweet tone that makes your breath hitch, “You know exactly what Bonzo’s drum solo gives time for. And which is why Rob will come here to let us know when it’s getting time for me to go back so I don’t miss anything.”

You nod before you start to move the dragon suit top from his shoulders with shaking hands. He notices because he asks, “Are you really sure you want to do this, (Y/N)?”

You laugh. “You have no idea how much. I'm mostly shaking because I'm so surprised you even came here.”

Jimmy holds your face. “We’ve taken up five minutes.”

Your stomach goes light and your head seems to be an incoherent mess of thousands of words when Jimmy presses his lips to yours. The contrasting textures between his fingers is just as intense; the rough calluses on the fingertips of right hand tingle your skin as they trail up your spine under your shirt, while the opposite smooth of his left hand slide gently along your lower back.

It isn’t long until everything gets heavier. Your clothes are strewn on the rug covered concrete floor below the sofa, while Jimmy is on top of you with his hand between your legs. It’s obvious that he’s extremely skilled in the art of fingering, and you’re convinced without a doubt that it’s because of how much he’s played guitar.

He’s drawing out loud cries of his name from your mouth and has your legs shaking from the flow of sharp vibrations down from somewhere deep in your core that make the muscles below your stomach pulsate at a steadily faster pace.

And then everything is surging in strong waves out from the spot his fingers are inside of you and through your entire body.

The trembling that follows each flow of energy through you eases down to just intermittent aftershocks and then completely breathless relaxation that leaves your head light and eyes closed. You can’t help but only smile and sigh as Jimmy kisses you again with a sweet softness which makes your heart flutter. The guitarist turns his head towards the door as a knock echoes from the other side.

“Bonzo’s gonna be done in probably five minutes, Pagey, you should get in order and backstage as quick as possible.”

“Okay, Percy, I’ll be out in a bit.”

You open your eyes to look back up at him. “I think I’m actually calmed down enough to tell you that you’re very good with your fingers. Absolutely fucking incredible, I couldn’t even think straight for I don’t even know how long.”

Jimmy kisses your forehead before getting off of you and starting to redress. “And you’re quite loud, (Y/N). I’m glad I could satisfy so well.”

You sit up and pick your clothes up off the floor and begin to get somewhat presentable. “Would it be possible to continue after the concert back at the hotel?”

Jimmy shrugs the dragon suit top back on. “I think that’s a great idea that I will agree with. Now let’s get back to everyone else. And make sure to stay calm until we’re at the hotel.”

[puckish-saint]

hiya~ just passing by and thinking about reaper76 (no reader insert) and their pretended marriage au 😏 whatcha' thinking 'bout that love? p.s. just wanted to tell you that your writing always bring smile on my face, the way you have with words captivated me from your first posts and i don't think i will ever forget your style (just really love your humour the jokes in it work every time) (although i find your blog only when you started writing overwatch fics i wish i found you sooner)

(my jokes work, thank god. You have no idea how long I’ve been chewing on that one, waiting for someone to tell me if my attempts at humour land. This really made my day Also Fake Marriage, yes pleas.Because just, hnnngh. Gabe more or less reluctantly teaming up with Overwatch after it turns out he’s been set up/lots of misunderstandings/shenanigans. But he and Jack have been drifting apart for so long and even though both technically know they’ve been played out against each other, knowing it and acting accordingly are two very different things. They fight, they argue, they can’t stand being in the same room and it’s worse because both remember they used to be inseparable.So, shit happens and they have to pretend to love each other. They have to dig deep under all the baggage to find that affection they used to hold for each other, and what’s scary is that it’s easy.The first morning Gabriel shovels six spoon fulls of sugar into his coffee cup, hesitates, then just upends the whole damn sugar bowl into his coffee, Jack doesn’t have a problem hugging him from behind and kissing him good morning.And when Jack loses horribly at some video game because he’s too busy admiring the scenery (”look at those trees, Gabe, they’re all handcrafted. Every one of them. Look at the trees.” “Will you please look at the giant venomous spider instead?”) Gabriel laughs like he hasn’t in ages.

I will go down with that trope tbh, and because I have no restraint, I wrote just under 2k words which may or may not be the beginning of a multichapter fic I’ll be putting on AO3.

Gibraltar base in low energy mode creeps out everyone. The lights are low, turning longhallways into twilight suffused tunnels with no end in sight, entireportions of the base void of life and activity. Only the dormitoriesand kitchens still have full power, a warm haven surrounded bymonsters in the dead of night. Everyone deals with the creepiness intheir own way. Lena drives her accelerator to its limits, skipping inand out the darkness as fast as she can. Mei asks a friend toaccompany her, whereas Hanzo plain refuses to go.

Lúcio talks.

“I’m here one time and theymake me go to the damn locker rooms to get some trivial shit nobodycares about,” he mutters under his breath, chasing away theoppressive silence. “First time in months we see each other and Ibrought them all souvenirs, but they’re all like, oh Lu-lu can youdo us a huge favour and get this random shit from our demon cellar,and if you get eaten do we get your skates?”

He turns a corner and comes face toface with a demon. Black holes where the eyes should be, a being ofpure darkness melds from the shadows to take his soul. Lúcio’scomplaints stick in his throat, hiding just like he wants to be. Theshadow seems to stare right through him. Then it moves.

“Gabe! Puta merda, you scaredthe crap out of me.”

Gabriel chuckles deeply and the grimreaper hunting for his innocent soul becomes the latest addition totheir ragtag bunch of misfits. They fall in step together, Lúciomuch more at ease now that he has someone tall and strong to protecthim from Overwatch’s version of a haunted house.

“Wimp,” he says good-natured.“We’re needed in the conference room. Something came up.”

“What, now?”

“No, the next Saint Patrick’s day.”

In the beginning Gabriel’s sarcasmput him off, but by now Lúcio has learned to appreciate it. Theyspend more time together than most anyone on base, seeing as hismusic is what’s slowly but surely healing Gabriel of his specialproblem.

“Your skin hurt again?” he asks,gesturing to the mask he wears again. Lately he can go mostly gowithout, but every now and then the degeneration flares up again andforces him to protect himself. Gabriel shrugs.

“It’s nothing compared to what itused to be like.” he says.

“Still. I can write you something tohelp, okay?”Gabriel argues only a little and by the time theyenter the conference room he has convinced him. Half the team hasgathered, including Fareeha through video conference from Cairo.

“... spotted them twice coming in,but they have an alternate route for leaving. I’m on it right now.”

“Good work, Amari.” Winston turnsto face the team. “We have eyes on Vishkar’s top suppliers. Idon’t need to tell you this op could make or break our effortsagainst them. Yes, Lúcio, you’ll be on the team to take them in.”

Lúcio has barely opened his mouth andnow grins, leaning back as they watch the low-res pictures Fareehamanaged to take of the couple they’ve been after for months.Vishkar’s increasingly unsavoury activities rely almost completelyon these two people, elusive as they are efficient, supplying Vishkarwith everything from stolen technology to weapons. Whatever thecorporation needs, they can get it. And now Overwatch knows wherethey are.

“We need to send in a strike-team,”Jack says once they’ve gone over the bullet points. “And quick. Idon’t suppose we can get Miss Song on such short notice, but withmyself, Lena and Fareeha we can move quickly enough to evade a drawnout fight. Lúcio should stay back until we’re well into it. Ifthey spot him before-”“Hey,” Gabriel barks. “Who died andmade you boss?”

“I don’t see you contributinganything of value.” Jack shoots back with just as much venom.

“You wouldn’t let anyone get a wordin edgewise, golden boy.”“You act like I’ve beenmonologuing for hours, it figures you have to make up something to beupset about-”“You don’t even hear yourself speak, doyou?”“Guys? Stop fighting.”

Both Jack and Gabriel fall silent underLena’s soft but firm rebuke. They won’t look at each other, sitwith crossed arms through the rest of the briefing. Two teams will goin, one lead by Fareeha closing in on their targets, the other leadby Reinhardt blocking off their escape. Winston reminds them to atleast try and bring them in alive for interrogation.

A few hours later the team sets out.

A few hours after that, a furious duetof Amaris relays the mission to Winston.They’re speaking over eachother, curse the sky green and look one wrong word away from becomingphysically violent.

“-completely disregarded theplan-”“-charged in there like madmen, fighting each other,like they didn’t even see all those damn turrets-”“-Reinhardtkept shouting at them to listen but they were too busy with theirpissing contest-”“-had to double back and bail them out, TeamB got pinned down by drones-”“-targets almost got away, if ithadn’t been for my daughter, we’d be back to zero-”

“-can’t work with those two, theycompromised the mission, the team, themselves-”“-likechildren in a playground, no professionalism-”“Alright,alright!” Winston interrupts holding up his hands to protecthimself from the Amari wrath. He doesn’t want to know what Jack andGabriel had to hear before they called. “I’ll talk to them. Inthe meantime, what about our targets?”

The targets are secure and brought tothe base and surprisingly accommodating. They have no loyalty forVishkar and eagerly share everything they know in return for a deal.Jack and Gabriel are taken off the mission roster for the time being,although both had to be persuaded to stay at all, ready to walk outafter this latest fiasco that proved to them trying to work togetherafter everything that happened is a moot exercise.

“We used to joke they could read eachother’s minds,” Reinhardt says while they wait for Winston andAna to finish up with the intel they gathered from their targets.“You have never seen closer friends.”

Lúcio looks up from his tablet to giveReinhardt a look of pure doubt.

“Hard to imagine, I know” Jessesays, smoking despite everyone’s subtle and not so subtle-nods tothe no-smoking rule. “But it’s true. Took the UN almost twodecades to push them apart, and that’s sayin’ somethin’...”

Lena makes to answer but is interruptedby the arrival of Winston, followed by Ana and, surprisingly, Jackand Gabriel.

“Thought we were benched.” Jackvoices everyone’s thoughts.

“Something came up,” Ana repliescurtly and loads their info up on the main screen. “We got ourtargets just in time. They were ready to retire and Vishkar promisedthem new identities and a safe home.”

“If Vishkar made them disappear, we’dnever have found them,” Lúcio says and then whistles when Anabrings up a picture. “That what I think it is?”

“Jannat, Vishkar’s top-secret gatedcommunity. It’s their magnum opus, located an hour’s drive fromUtopaea. The families of their top executives and scientists all livethere. It’s also where they keep all their records.”

“So what?” Jesse says. “We’regonna wire them and let them go?”

“Better,” Ana shows a grin that’sall teeth and even though she hasn’t so much as glanced at Jack andGabriel, they both swallow, knowing whatever she has planned, they’llbe the butt of the joke. “Our targets were extremely careful. Noteven Vishkar knows who they are. They have a vague description of twomales in their fifties or sixties, one of which is black or latino,which puts us in the prime position of being able to send two of ouragents in their stead.”“Fuck that.” Gabriel says, wellaware of who’s going to end up playing the part. Jack at leasttries to be a bit more subtle about it.

“Reyes and I aren’t exactlynobodies. They’ll recognise us.”

“They’ll recognise your faces, butit won’t matter. We can fool their DNA sensors.”

“Still, they might getsuspicious.”“It’s a risk we’re going to have to take.This is our only chance to get into Jannat and we don’t have thetime to hold castings.”

Jack knows when he lost a fight, butGabriel keeps arguing. He damn near flips the tables when Winstonwon’t be persuaded to use someone else, gets into a shouting matchwith Ana that lasts for hours. Mission prep lasts a little under aday and when it’s done and their identities forged, they have todrag him kicking and screaming onto the plane, less metaphoricallythan anyone would prefer.

“He’ll get us killed,” Gabrielspits while Lúcio walks him through the last few points. “He didit before.”

Jack tenses but says nothing, sittingat the opposite end of the aircraft and pretending to read the news.

“It’s going to go fine,” Lúciosays cheerfully. “Mister Jack’s got you. Now listen, because asfar as we know there’s a sort of quarantine and we won’t be ableto talk for at least a month. I’ve built you a miniature version ofmy sonic tech and packed every song I ever wrote on that. Nothingwill go wrong with our treatment plan, but if it does something onthere will help you, okay?”“Yeah, yeah, fine.” Gabrielswats at him, cheeks hot with embarrassment at being mothered bysomeone half a foot shorter and almost three decades younger thanhim.

And then it’s just them and Lena inthe cockpit, flying them to their destination. In less than an hourthey’ll be Sam and Steve Carter, married for thirty two years,criminals for slightly longer. They’ll have to kiss and hug and saystupid corny shit and for all that Gabriel wants to forcefully ejecthimself from the plane, he knows they can’t blow this one. The endof Vishkar for good lies just within their reach. If he fucks this upbecause he couldn’t play nice he’ll never be able to look Lúcioin the eye again. The kid was the only one who accepted him with openarms after the whole mess with Mercy and the UN was over. When evenReinhardt and Ana kept their distance, it was Lúcio who sat with himfor breakfast, who included him, who went up to him in all his 5’3’’glory and asked to spar because even Jesse wouldn’t. He can’tfuck this up.

They step into the sweltering Indianheat arm in arm and gritting their teeth.

[weracetogether]

Loggerhead- 20 Mile Swim http://ift.tt/2wGHl49 Every adventure has a starting point. This adventure starts with more of the absence of a starting point. In our local area we had the Pensacola 3 Mile Bridge Swim for a number of years. I miss this event and hope to see it again in the future. I participated in the Aquathlon, 5K swim, 10K swim, and 25K swim distances. The event has been on-hold for the past few years due to plans for and now actual construction of a new Pensacola Bay Bridge. In the time the swim has been on hold there have been a number of “fun” swims with a few friends gathering together to swim around points or across boat channels. Then there was talk of an EPIC swim. This talk was quickly here and then gone but it stuck in my mind. The plan was to swim from Navarre Beach to Pensacola Beach. The seed was

The actual route taken.

planted for me. I waited to see if it was going to happen but the chatter went silent. Then in May of this year the “big” race Patrick and I were signed up for got canceled and options for other events we wanted to do were limited. The wheels started turning in my head and one day I just told Patrick, "I would like to try to swim from Navarre to Pensacola this summer." I should not be amazed anymore when he agrees, but I am amazed every time he simply says, "OK."

We set the first attempt date in July. Yes it was a quick turnaround, mostly so I could not chicken out, but is was also the best day for tides and amount of daylight. On that day the weather was such that the swim was not going to happen. We faced winds that were causing white caps on the sound. Kayaks were sinking and swimmers, including myself, were making only slow forward progress. To slow to make the distance before dark. With these rough conditions we called the event. You can read more about this attempt on the prior blog entry, Adventures in Failure.

After the first attempt failed, I rethought the possibility of me doing this swim. Patrick asked me when I was going to try again only minutes after leaving the water defeated. I am pretty sure I rolled my eyes and looked at him with a look of, “did you not just see me almost drown out there, bugger off.” But my reply was, “Soon. We will try again soon.” I set two future dates, in case of weather again or other issues. I knew given the daylight limitations that I could only try two more times before waiting until longer days in the spring.

The 19th of August seem to come sooner than naturally possible. Again we packed up fluids, food, and safety supplies. That morning the number of swimmers were far less than the prior attempt.I don’t blame them! Patrick was the only kayaker, Jim would enter the water to swim with me, and Danika would give us hugs, cheer, and push us off with much needed emotional support, encouragement, and confidence in our ability. I was honestly glad for the small numbers (just in case I failed again). It seemed to make it easier to manage in my mind. Patrick pushed out towards the first set of docks. I stood there in thigh deep water, took a glance at the rising sun behind me, waved to our friend (who was all smiles), and took a deep breath before diving into the water.

The water was already warm and it was 0630 in the morning. As we swam out past the first dock, seagrass and squishy jelly fish began to be a part of every stroke forward. The good thing about squishy jellies is that they don’t sting. The bad thing about squishy jellies is that I have trust issues with any jellies, causing me to jump each time my hand brushed one. The seagrass was more of a five mile nuisance, at times being so thick I could have given Patrick a bouquet of grass in one stroke. I wasn't sure this would have been a good way to show my love or appreciation so I kept the seagrass to myself.

I wanted to start at a nice, smooth pace, sort of a start slow and ease off mentality. The water, while warm, was smooth. We hit moments where I just watched the water droplets from my arms break the surface of the settled waters. It was beautiful and peaceful. The water danced as I moved through it, breaking and bending with me this time, not against me like the previous attempt.  I watched ahead eyeing a familiar boathouse that I knew would be close to the moment of defeat a month ago. I watched as it got closer, as houses and condos slowly faded from view. Then the boathouse was next to me and I could see the first outcropping in the distance. This was where I was last time when tough decisions had to be made. The other side of this cove would be the start to the furthest I had traveled on this path. While this point was within only mile three, it was a mental blocking point and I had to remind myself to “be the storm” even against my own mind which was yammering on about failure and defeat. The outcropping seemed to come up faster then expected and with it shallow waters. The shallows now meant that seagrass brushed my stomach at the same time as brushing over my arms and back.

Finally after four miles, the buildings of Navarre Beach were gone and the visual scene to my left became one of flowing sand dunes spotted with low trees and grasses.  Jim and I pushed on, going over a shallow area where I saw my first stingray. He stirred as I came over him. He jetted out towards the deeper waters. I don’t blame him; the water was hot in the shallows. As we got into the National Seashore I found a “stream” of cooler water. With a little zig-zagging I was able to stay in the four foot wide stream. The stream didn’t last long but was refreshing and welcomed.

Well into the seashore Jim began to swap between swimming and walking the shore. It was nice having another swimmer out there with me. While we weren’t always at the same place (sometimes one of us was towards the shore and the other out deeper and then we would swap, crossing paths with little notice until we would look around for each other), there was comfort in Jim being there. Jim is the kind of guy who literally goes the extra mile with you. He and I have swum together often in a  “Monday night swim group.” Our normal swim route as still 12 miles away. Jim is a smiling face when things were starting to feel tough. Jim has strength in ways I could only ponder. I knew why I was there in that water, but for Jim I only knew he was there to because, “why not” (and I am sure a self-challenge of sorts too). Jim would stay out there for nine miles - incredible.   

The next handful of miles would cause us to have to push out beyond a few more outcroppings and trying to stay out of the currents that were twisting the water through the coves and back out to the channel. While I had already swum through the tide rising and slacking, I was not getting as much benefit as I had hoped with the outgoing current. The chop created by the churning current and slight wind was building, causing me to have some trouble sighting the next landmark. Patrick kept me on track; well as much on track as he could, as I tend to get distracted at times. In these miles I encountered a few more rays and small fish, and a few fishermen wondering what I was doing and if I was scarring away their potential catches.

We came upon Big Sabine Point, which earlier had been discussed as to what it was out in the middle of the water. We thought ship, bridge, or bird... yeah we may have all been a little over exposed to the sun even early on. What we saw from miles back was trees. Trees I would have to swim out and around hitting higher chop, but then seeing the buildings of Pensacola much clearer. We were close enough to see individual windows!

From here Range Point and Portofino were well insight. Even the Pensacola Beach hotels were coming into view.  In the beginning the buildings had given way to the beach. The beach now gave way to the buildings. Those buildings felt like road blocks in my mind. I should have been happy; I was close (well closer). But instead my mind raced with doubt. What I knew in that moment was what I thought was going to be a 17 mile swim was now going to be much longer, meaning it wasn’t over and I wasn’t close. My mind tried to negotiate with my heart, saying, “stop,” trying to say, “you are technically at Pensacola beach, you can be done now.” I was thankful when my heart won out, saying, “keep pushing, its right there.”

After Portofino the crossing became deep again. The seagrass faded away and I was left watching the dark below me. As the sun peaked and hid behind the clouds the water danced beneath me in shades of greens and blues and browns, but my eyes were focusing elsewhere in the distance on a row of hotels that really looked more like Lego pieces from my vantage point.

A few miles out from shore we were met by our friend Chris, who came out on his paddle board. I was thankful to have another safety there as the boat traffic was picking up; Patrick was thankful to have another person there to actually have a conversation with, since he had been pretty much alone for the day. I could hear Patrick and Chris talk as I swam. I stopped and grabbed fluids again and asked what building I was headed towards. Both Patrick and Chris told me to go to the tallest building and that Quietwater Beach/Mommy Beach was right there. I was honestly feeling very defeated still seeming so far away, I actually asked, “Are you sure?” Both of them laughed at me and confirmed they were sure.  It was also shortly after this moment that I was in my swim rhythm and even though I had been breathing to both sides I slammed my left shoulder into Patrick’s kayak after making a strange and sudden turn towards him. I swear I never saw him there and I have no idea why I turned. Over the moments of pain, all I thought was, “Put your head back in the water and swim.” I did.

Soon we were joined by another kayaker, I knew this only because Patrick was chatting again. Tom had joined us and again I was thankful, because the boat traffic was building as people went home or to dinner spots along the beach.  Suddenly I saw Patrick begin the paddle ahead a little and Tom move swiftly to my right side, the fog horn went off and I stopped (as planned), luckily the speed boat stopped too, well quickly turned from us. For the remainder of the swim I would stay with Tom to my right, Chris behind me, and Patrick to my left; I was safe here.

The docks along Quitewater Beach got closer and closer. Soon I was swimming in waters I had swam through many times before. I was home (almost). I stopped one more time to tell Patrick “I was done and going to call it,” but he only laughed at my smiling face and sternly told me to swim. I heard Tom asked if I was serious. Yep it was a joke 15 miles in the making and I was cracking myself up.  Shortly after, the guys broke from me and pushed to shore. I no longer knew if my goggles were leaking or if tears were filling them; it didn’t matter. For the last time my hands brushed the sand. I pulled my legs up under me and stood up, taking a moment to balance. I was there on the shore, greeted by the guys and friends, Mindi and Evan. It was over. 12 hours, 21 minutes, and 1 second from when I started, I was on shore 20 miles away from where I started.

I stood on the shore in disbelief. I looked to the east to see nothing of     Navarre beach in the distances; it was gone too far away to see now. I know that there are better swimmers than me, faster, farther swimmers than me. But today I swam 20 miles and I am proud of that feat. It still hasn’t sunk in that I swam that, even after picking up the car at the start point it didn’t seem to be a real distance. Even after the congratulations and wows it didn’t seem real. The distance and physical feat has not hit yet- because to me it was a journey in my mind far different from the physical journey. I solved the world’s problems, created world peace, thought of friends and family, mended hearts their hearts and lost relationships, created plans for my work team, and then in the weight of the land so much of it was lost again. My mind is putting together the pieces, maybe not to solve world peace or to mend all hearts, but enough of the pieces to reach out and help make things better. The physical accomplishment will come to my mind in time.

To be on shore was amazing, but even more amazing has been the support. I can’t say thank you enough to those who have been a constant support through this adventure. Thank you to those who have jumped in the water to swim or kayak, to those who have followed the little red dot on live tracking, to those who have offered food along the way, to those who have cheered and laughed with us, and to those who have lifted my spirit when I felt like I was free falling. 

Lastly, to my love a thank you for always being there (even when you drifted back to update social media). Without Patrick 20 miles would not even be a dream dreamt in the darkness; he is the one who breaths in light to my dreams and crazy ideas. It was comforting to look over and see him there beside me, to hear him whisper words of affirmation, and to feel him hold me when the adventure was over. He is my life line. He is my rock. He is the part of my soul that holds me firmly between the course of reality and the freedom of destiny. I can never say thank you to him to express my gratitude for him being there (always) for those words cannot hold my appreciation and love for him.

   So here is the general data break down:

On 19 August 2017 I swam from Navarre Beach to Pensacola Beach, covering a distance of 20 miles. 20 miles, 12:21:01 time in the water, 11:22:49 total moving time (meaning my treading or standing to eat did not count as moving time but was in the overall time), average moving speed of 1.8mph.  The water temp was about 88 degrees but there were areas of colder water about a foot down, leaving the hot water to sit at the top.  The air temp was mid 90’s; however, felt hotter with the heat index. We encountered a few clouds but no storms.

With this my Tampa Bay Frogman Swim 2018 training has begun, now for speed work and cold waters!!! If you can, please help us support the Navy SEAL Foundation. Teresa's Donation Page for Tampa Bay Frogman Swim 2018 Teresa is actively raising money for the Navy Seal Foundation.  For more information please read this: Supporting the Navy Seal Foundation- Frogman Swim  We've been blogging for a while now. If you enjoyed this one, you may enjoy others. Look though the Blog Archive on the right, for more of our experiences and random thoughts.  Thank you for your ongoing support of our adventures.   Please feel free to share our blog.