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goodwriterwithbadhabits · 4 years ago

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The Study of Hearts

Master List

Warnings: Hospital talk, minor swearing

“Hey Y/n, what’s been up with you today, doc?” You spare a quick glance over at the nurse who’d come up beside you, glancing away from the patient’s chart for only a second before returning to it.

“Nothing’s up with me, I’ve just got a lot of patients today.” She scoffs instantly. You should have known better than to try and lie to Nurse Choi. She had been your head nurse during your internship, and your residency, she knew almost everything about you, and you were a fool to assume she wouldn’t notice your sudden drop in mood.

“Don’t tell me that. We’ve had a fuller ward than this and you’ve never snapped at someone. That resident you scolded is still crying in the nurses station.” You feel a twinge of guilt at her words. The resident hadn’t really done anything wrong, but offered up the wrong medicine when you asked the group a question regarding a patient. You may have laid into them for longer than necessary about checking charts and allergies before handing out meds. “And this morning you actually shouted at the guy who took your parking spot. This isn’t like you.” You’re thankful the patient you’re currently looking at is asleep, recovering from a surgery that just ended. “So tell me what has the calmest, most level-headed doctor in the cardiology department so wound up.” You sigh deeply, setting the chart back into the sleeve at the end of his bed.

“My boyfriend.”

“The idol you swear you’re dating.” She huffs, somehow not believing you. You roll your eyes, deciding not to continue and simply walk away. No one ever believed you when it came to your boyfriend of nearly 4 years, and he wasn’t helping his own case either. “I just can’t believe an idol would date you, I’m sorry Y/n.” You spin back to the older woman, rising to your full height. You were sick and tired of people looking down on you for who you were dating as if they had any clue what was happening.

“It’s Doctor L/n, Nurse Choi. You may refer to me on personal terms when we are outside of this hospital, but seeing as you refuse to respect my personal life, you are no longer privy to it.” She blinks up at you in confusion before nodding. You can almost feel the shock she emits.

“Yes, Doctor.”

“Room 1134, Patient Kim Seungkwan needs to be prepped for anesthesia. Dr. Song will be here in an hour.”

“Yes, Doctor.” She bows to you before turning away.

“And Nurse Choi.”

“Yes,Doctor?” There’s a hopeful gleam in her eyes when you call for her again.

“Tell that resident to stop crying, if he can’t handle being reprimanded there is no place for him in a medical field.” Her shoulders slump again, but you can’t bring yourself to feel guilty.

“Yes, Doctor L/n.” With one last curt nod to her you spin on your heels, stalking down the halls to your office.

You’ve barely gotten the chance to start your computer before someone is knocking on your office door.

“Who is it?” You ask, annoyance clear in your voice.

“Someone told me you’re having a bad day.” The voice of the young Chairman has you standing immediately as he walks in.

“Chairman Yoon, forgive me, I didn’t know it was you.” You bow, but he simply waves it off.

“Come on, Y/n, it’s just us. What have I told you about bowing to me.”

“Sorry Myungsoo, someone could have been behind you.” You chuckle dryly at your friend. “What do you want? I’m in the middle of something.” He holds up a small lunch box, waving it slightly.

“I brought ice cream, but if you’re too busy I’m sure someone else will help me eat it.”

“I’m never too busy for ice cream.” You relent, holding out your hands for the box. “And I guess your company too.” He takes the seat across from you, watching for a moment as you dig in.

“So tell me, how come you’ve been such a bitch today?” His comment makes you choke slightly.

“Yah, Myungsoo, what the hell?”

“Come on, Nurse Choi’s upset, you yelled at a resident so bad he had to go home early.”

“He’s a crybaby.” You huff.

“That’s besides the point. What’s eating at you?” You sigh, stabbing your spoon into your ice cream and setting it on your desk.

“Mark.”

“Huh, you’d think Mark eating you would make you happier.” His joke has your cheeks flushing instantly and you throw your napkin at him.

“Yah! That’s not what I meant.”

“What about Mark? I heard their tour ended a few days ago.” You clench your teeth slightly, recalling exactly what’s got you so pissed off.

“They got home last night, at least BamBam says they did, only Mark didn’t text, call, anything. I only found out they got back in when BamBam posted a selca.” “So you’re mad because he didn’t come see you?”

“I’m mad because I’m fucking sick of it!” You explode, slamming your hand on the desk, making him jump. “He refuses to tell anyone we’ve been dating for almost 4 years, so everyone thinks I’m some delusional fangirl. He refuses to talk about the possibility of moving in together, we never go out when he’s in the country, and when he’s on tour I barely get a text once a week. He’s never met my friends or my parents and it kinda feels like he doesn’t even want to be in a relationship with me.” You finish your rant with a huff, raking your fingers through your hair. “He’s been managing to piss me off without even talking to me.”

“Sugar, I don’t think you’re mad, I think you’re hurt.” He begins, setting his own treat down, “Anger is a secondary emotion.”

“I know that, I did take psychology.” You grumble.

“So what’s really making you so upset?” You cross your arms on the desk, hiding your face in them.

“What if he doesn’t want to be with me any more? What if he just sees me as a burden these days and is trying to make me break up with him, so he doesn’t feel bad?” Myungsoo sighs, reaching out to rub your arm soothingly.

“I think if you’re questioning the relationship, you should either talk to him, or break it off.”

“I know, I’m just not sure if I’m ready for that. I really love him, you know?”

“Chairman Yoon, we have a meeting sir.” A voice announces, knocking on the door.

“You should go, thanks for the ice cream, and letting me vent.”

“No problem, sugar, you should call him.”

“I will.” The moment the door shuts behind him you pull your phone out of your bag, and pull up his contact. He doesn’t pick up, but you aren’t shocked. “Hey Mark, I heard you got in last night, I hope you’re doing alright. Look, I uh, I didn’t call for no reason. I’ve been thinking, and I don’t think it’s going to work out between us. There’s just so much missing between us, like,” You scoff lightly, “Like love. So yeah, I uh, think we should break up.” You look up to the ceiling, blinking back tears. “I get off at 11 tonight, if you want to call me back then. I doubt you will though, you never seem to want to talk to me any other time. Either way, I have Thursday off, you can come get anything you left at my apartment then. Bye.” You hang up quickly, before shutting your phone off and tossing it in your bag. You felt like sobbing, just finally crying and letting it all out, but you knew you couldn’t, you had patients to help, and they were the priority.

Of course, by the time 10:45 rolled around, you were dead on your feet, your brain hurt and you were about 2 seconds from cracking open the emergency wine you kept in the fridge in your office.

“Sir, I may not be a pulmonologist, but I can tell you that smoking combined with not exercising are a major factor in why your heart is damaged.” You insist, trying not to roll your eyes at the man as he scoffs.

“I don’t think you’re qualified to talk to me about this.”

“Sir, I’m-”

“Doctor L/n to Emergency Care, paging Doctor L/n to Emergency Care.”

“Mother-” You cut yourself off with a huff, “Sir, while you are in my care, it is my duty to offer you medical advice. You need to cut back on the cigarettes or quit entirely. While you’re in this hospital you are not welcome to smoke unless outside in a designated area, with a nurse present. Good night.” You bow, quickly exiting the room before you lose your cool and punch him.

“Doctor L/n, you’re needed in-”

“I heard,” You interrupt the resident who ran up to you. “What’s going on?”

“It’s a patient. He was attacked by a mob. He seems alright but he refuses to leave without seeing you.” The kid explains, holding the elevator door for you.

“Is he having trouble breathing? Shortness of breath, chest pain?”

“No, I haven’t seen his chart yet, but as far as I’m aware he only has a few cuts and bruises, if there are any internal injuries, it would likely be contusions on his ribs or-”

“Spleen, why on earth am I being called?” You’re racking your brain for some kind of answer when the elevator door opens.

“Ah doctor, you’re here.” The head of the ER sighs, meeting you only a few steps away from the lift, “Good. This way.” She begins leading you down one of the quieter halls.

“Jangmi, tell me you have some grasp as to why someone needs a cardiologist here right now.” You bite at the inside of your lip, completely lost as to why someone might need you.

“I’m sorry, Y/n, he’s insistent and he’s mentioned you by name several times. Besides I’d rather his company continued to send their idols here.”

“Company?” You ask, just as she opens the door. “Who-” “Oh thank god, the good doctor is here, now will you stop being a baby?” A familiar voice asks, and your heart leaps into your throat as you round the privacy curtain. There, sitting on the bed, looking pitiful in the hospital clothes, was Mark Tuan. You have to bite back tears as you pick up his chart. He had several bruises already forming on the skin you could see, and a split in his lip.

“Mark Tuan what the hell happened to you?” Blood pressure, normal. Pupillary response, normal. No signs of concussion or brain trauma.

“Some sasaengs started fighting as we were trying to leave, Mark got caught in the middle.” Jackson explains, toying with the IV stand. “Hey what does this button do, Y/n.”

“Don’t touch it, Jackson.” Your response is instant and almost habitual, having had to slap his hand away from your tools plenty of times.

“I’m sorry, Doctor L/n, do you know these men? Personally?” Jangmi asks, noticing the way JB lingers at your shoulder and Jackson immediately stops toying with things.

“You could say that.” You muse, “Your vitals seem fine, though your heart rate has gone up slightly.” You can’t help the cheeky smile that dances onto your face. No, you broke up with him. You set his chart back down, grabbing his chin softly to turn his face towards the light. “You’ll have a few bruises, but nothing your make up artist can’t cover.”

“Y/n-”

“So you have any trouble breathing? Shortness of breath, chest pain, headaches?” You ignore his plea of your name in favor of the heart monitor next to him.

“No I’m fine.”

“Then why did you beg a cardiologist to come see you?” You snap, turning on him. “If you wanted to finally talk to me, you could have waited fifteen minutes. Instead you’ve wasted the time of not one, but two doctors, at least one of our residents and several members of the nursing staff. What do you have to say for yourself?”

“What do I have to say? What about you? You broke up with me over a voicemail.” He shouted back, and you watch from the corner of your eye as everyone in the room takes a step back from the two of you.

“Well if you ever pick up your damn phone when I call, I could have broken up with you like that.” Your voice is somehow level, despite how hurt and angry you are.

“I’ve been trying to get a hold of you all day.” Well, fuck, okay that was on you. “I didn’t want to run into you like this, but I figured ‘fuck it, you work here anyway’ might as well see you.”

“So instead of waiting to be discharged and coming up to my department you worry me sick by begging me to see you like this? Do you know how scary it is to be paged down here? I was terrified someone’s heart had stopped beating, or I was going to need to perform an emergency surgery and I found you sitting here, beaten up instead.” The dam breaks, and the first tears begin streaming down your face. “The second I heard JB’s voice I was terrified I was about to have to save your life. After everything I told you about my work, about my fears of finding you on my table one day, how dare you use that against me.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Mark jumps up, pulling you into a tight hug as you cry into his shoulder.

“You’re the worst.”

“I know. I know I’ve been shitty. I should be taking you out and showing you off and I haven’t been. I’ve been so scared that Aghase might reject you, I never realized I was the one doing the rejecting. Please give me a second chance.”

“Promise me you’ll change?”

“For you, in a heartbeat.”

“Um, Dr. L/n.” Jangmi’s voice has you pulling away from Mark, wiping your eyes on the cuffs of your sleeve.

“I’m sorry, Dr. Seo.” You laugh, trying to calm down. “I’ll handle his discharge paperwork.”

“Of course, Doctor.” She chuckles softly, offering you all a bow before exiting the room.

“You really broke up with him over voicemail?” JB asks, clearly trying not to laugh.

“I was upset.” You defend. “I also yelled at several people and told one of my closest friend’s to go fuck herself.”

“Well, I’m declining your break up attempt, you didn’t tell me directly, so it doesn’t count.” Mark decides, pressing a kiss to your cheek as you walk out of the room. Nurse Choi is standing immediately outside the door, discharge paperwork in hand.

“Oh, Nurse Choi, I thought you were up in Cardiology still?” You greet.

“Dr. Seo asked me to deliver this personally.” Her eyes are wide as she sees Mark’s arm around your waist and the other boys just behind you. “It seems I owe you an apology, Dr. L/n.”

“Yes you do. I’ll take those.” She sets the clipboard into your outstretched hand with a bow, moving to walk away. You saw the slump in her shoulders as she walked away, and the guilt crept into your chest. “Before you go,” Your call has her turning back to face you. “Noon, Saturday, come have lunch with me? Please Jisoo?” The smile that erupts on her face is enough to make you feel better.

“Of course, Y/n, see you then.”

#mark tuan #mark tuan imagine #mark tuan imagines #got7 imagines #got7 #got7 imagine #goodwriterwithbadhabits #halloween game #request

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oikawaplssteponme · 4 years ago

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𝑨𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒀𝒐𝒖: part 5

“It’s always been you. Has it always been me?”

✨part 1

✨part 2

✨part 3

✨part 4

pairing: Tobio Kageyama x fem!reader

rating/warnings: [a few swear words but that should be it]

synopsis: You liked him. He liked you. Easy right? Well, maybe not as easy as you thought.

a/n: hiii 💓 sorry i didn’t post this part sooner, ive been busy with other such things :) this is chapters 9&10 and things will be getting interesting the next few parts after this 🤭 just a reminder that my requests/asks are open all the time and so is this taglist. just ask and ill add you :)) okay enjoy xx

•

Nine: all that matters

You felt as though someone had taken your heart, stepped on, and gave it back to you. You couldn’t think of any plausible reason why Koi would say that to you. This wasn’t the same Koi that always supported you. You knew that if you were in her place, you wouldn’t have said those things, even if you truly believed them.

“Don’t give me that face Y/N, it's just my opinion. See this is why I didn’t want to tell you. I knew you’d freak out,” Koi huffed.

“Well I’m obviously not gonna like hearing that you think that the guy I like doesn’t actually like me.”

“Hey now I never said that. All I said was that I think that I’m more his type than you. That's no reason to get pissy with me Y/N. The truth can hurt.” Koi crossed her arms and looked you dead in the eyes. You couldn’t tell whether you wanted to cry or scream.

“Hey ladies, get into first formation,” your coach interrupted. You took a deep breath and got into your spot.

Your practice felt like it lasted forever. You wanted nothing more than to just get as far away from Koi as possible. She acted as if nothing was wrong, continuing to joke with you all practice. You played along.

“See you tomorrow Y/N!” called Koi as she turned to walk home. You waved goodbye and began your trip home.

“Hey wait up!” you heard a voice say behind you. You turned to see a sweaty Kageyama running towards you. Your face instantly lit up. Once he got up to you, he gave you a tight hug.

“Oh my gosh you stink,” you joked. Kageyama released you from the hug.

“Oh sorry,” he blushed.

“It's okay,” you smiled at him, taking his hand as you walked home.

“How was practice?” you asked.

“It was good. We have a practice match tomorrow, you should come watch,” he said. You turned to him with the biggest smile.

“You want me to come watch you?”

“Yeah why wouldn’t I?” Kageyama squeezed your hand. You felt butterflies enter your stomach.

“Do you want to come inside to study?” you asked, pointing to your house.

“Yeah sure,” smiled Kageyama.

You walked up to your front door and went inside. Once again, your family wasn’t home yet. You led Kageyama up to your room and you set down your bags. He sat down on your bed and you made your way to your closet.

You were still in your sweaty practice clothes so you decided to change. You grabbed a pair of sweatpants and a clean t-shirt. Not thinking twice about Kageyama, you simply got changed. After you were dressed, you turned around to see a red faced Kageyama.

“What?” you asked. He caught his breath.

“Uh, nothing,” he said as he snapped back into reality. You chuckled and grabbed your school bag and went to sit next to him. He grabbed his bag as well. You pulled out your homework and began to complete it. Kageyama grumbled as he struggled through his english homework.

“Do you want help?” you asked. Kageyama looked at you and shook his head. He knew you had one of the best grades in class but he wanted to try to do it himself.

“Nope, I’m good,” he replied. You nodded and went back to your work.

You finished your homework in less than an hour. You repacked your school bag and set it on the floor. You moved to rest your head on Kageyama’s shoulder.

“Are you finished yet?” you pouted. He smiled.

“I can finish it later,” he said, putting away his things.

He wrapped his arm around you as you two laid back on your bed. Your head rested on his chest. You couldn’t help but feel so at peace whenever you were with him. Well, that peace was short lived when Koi’s words began to run through your mind again. You felt your gut clench.

“Kags?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you have a type?” Kageyama gave you a funny look.

“What do you mean?” he asked. You sighed and sat up to face him.

“I guess what I’m asking is, am I your type?” You worried that Koi might be right. Kageyama tilted his head.

“Why does it matter? I like you,” He said taking your hand. He could tell something was wrong. You still felt uneasy.

“I don’t know. Someone said some stuff to me and it got me thinking. Well, overthinking actually,” you frowned. Kageyama pulled you towards him.

“I promise that whatever they told you isn’t true. You’re all that matters,” he said. Kageyama placed his hand on your cheek, moving his thumb back and forth. You smiled pulling him into a tight hug.

“I promise Y/N,” he whispered in your ear. His soft words sent a chill down your spine. You released him from the hug but pulled him into a kiss. He kissed you back sweetly, holding you close. Your arms wrapped around his neck while he held onto your hips.

“Hey Kags,” you stopped kissing him for a moment.

“Yeah?”

“Please make sure your phone is on silent.”

“I should go,” yawned Kageyama. You pouted as you checked the time. 10:23pm. No part of you wanted him to leave.

“I think you shouldn’t,” you smiled, gripping onto his arm. He laughed.

“Trust me I don’t want to but I was supposed to be home 20 minutes ago,” he replied. You sighed, letting go of his arm and sitting up.

“Is your practice match right after school?” you asked.

“Yeah. It's in the normal gym,” he said. You nodded. Kageyama grabbed his school bag and his other things. You two walked downstairs before reaching your front door.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” he smiled.

You knew you would but there was just something about seeing Kageyama leave that broke your heart. You didn’t think saying a simple goodbye would be so hard but it was. You became so attached to him and you weren’t even dating; technically at least.

“Okay,” you whispered. Your eyes felt glossy but you didn't know why. It just felt like each goodbye wouldn’t be followed with another hello.

“Hey I’m just a couple houses away, and I’ll be waiting for you tomorrow morning. Don’t be sad Y/N,” Kageyama set down his bag to pull you into a hug. You gripped onto his shirt.

“Okay,” you said faintly. You physically couldn’t say anymore because if you did you would just tell him to stay. Kageyama moved his hands to hold your face. He noticed the water forming in your eyes. You just smiled, shrugging your shoulders like it was no big deal. He kissed the top of your head before releasing his hands from your warm face. He picked up his things and opened the door.

“Goodnight Y/N.” He gave you one last kiss on the head.

“Goodnight Kags.”

•

Ten: girlfriend

You didn’t sleep that night. You couldn’t. You felt incomplete. You felt silly about how strong your feelings had gotten for Kageyama. How attached you had become to the short-tempered setter. Everytime you were with him, it just felt as if the world had stopped and it was only the two of you. You always worried about people leaving you. You knew that if Kageyama did, you would never recover. After what Koi had to say about him, you were doubtful over yourself. Thoughts like those are what kept you up at night.

When morning arose, you were more than excited to get your day started. You immediately got yourself cleaned up and changed in your uniform. Your coach had cancelled your practice today due to being sick so it was perfect that you could make it to Kageyama’s practice match. You even packed a bag of clothes to change into after school for the game. You grabbed your bags and went downstairs. You put on your coat and hat after grabbing something to eat. You put on your school bag and went outside.

He wasn’t there. You waited for about 5 minutes for Kageyama but he wasn’t there. You felt your heart sink. Was there a chance that he forgot? He wouldn’t forget, he promised. You knew that if you waited any longer you would be late, so you decided to start walking. You walked by yourself for some time, looking back every so often to hopefully see Kageyama. You had been walking for almost 5 minutes before hearing fast footsteps behind you.

“Y/N!” You turned to see a sprinting Kageyama. You let out a sigh of relief.

“I thought you forgot about me,” you said once he finally caught up to you. He tried to catch his breath.

“No, no I would never. I left my volleyball bag at my house so I had to go back and get it. Then I noticed that the lights in your house were all turned off so I assumed you had already left,” Kageyama explained, “I’m sorry if I scared you.” You turned to him and kissed his cheek.

“No worries Kags.” He took your hand and you walked the rest of the way to school.

The school day was long. You were so eager to watch Kageyama’s game that time seemed to never pass. You would check the clock constantly but of course nothing would change.

Finally when the bell rang signaling the end of the day, you sprung up from your seat rushing to your locker to grab your change of clothes.

“Y/N!” a familiar voice called. Your heart sang seeing it was none other than Kageyama.

“ Hi Kags,” you smiled.

“Put this on.” He handed you a black hoodie. Your eyes grew. You took the hoodie with joy. Before you could say anything, he was running to the gym.

“I’ll see you at the game!” his voice trailed off as he continued to run off. Your face was hot and tense from how hard you were smiling. You grabbed your bag and headed to the locker room.

You happily changed into a pair of leggings, a strappy tank top, and Kageyama’s hoodie. The hoodie was soft and it smelled like a mix of pine and vanilla, just how Kageyama often did. You were just about to leave the locker room when someone walked in.

“Oh hi Y/N, what are you doing?” asked Koi.

“I’m gonna go watch the boys volleyball practice game,” you said, without even thinking twice about it.

“Oh that sounds fun! Mind if I join?” Koi asked. You tensed up. You couldn’t say no without sounding mean but you also were still mad at Koi for those things she said the other day.

“Are you sure? It's just a practice match, it's probably gonna be really boring,” you said, trying to come up with anything that could convince her not to come.

“Yeah, we can cheer on Kags together,” smiled Koi. Your heart stopped. Did she just call him…

“Uh sure, then let's go,” you said.

The pit in your stomach only grew as you walked closer to the gym with Koi. Once you got inside, Kageyama spotted you right away. He ran towards you and wrapped his arm around you, not even acknowledging Koi.

“You look cute. Where is that hoodie from?” joked Kageyama. You smiled, giving him a nudge.

“Very funny. Uh Kags, you know Koi?” you gestured towards your friend who seemed to be annoyed by the lack of attention she was getting.

“Uh yeah I think so,” he said, looking at Koi. Koi gave him a big smile.

“Hi Kags. Good luck today,” smiled Koi. Did she just say it again?

“Oh uh thank you,” Kageyama turned to look at you, “I’ll see you after the game okay?”

“Oh, yeah. Good luck,” you replied. He gave you a hug before running back to his team.

You and Koi sat on the floor of the upper level of the gym. You dangled your feet over the edge and rested your arms on the railing that kept you from falling.

“So you and Kags huh?” said Koi suddenly. You turned to face her.

“Uh yeah, what about us?”

“Oh nothing,” she said, “just thinking out loud.”

“Right,” you sighed. You didn’t have the energy to ask her about it more. Whatever she had to say you knew it wouldn’t be good.

The practice game was against Nekoma High School. You had heard of them before due to their reputation around Karasuno. They seemed to be a very well rounded team.

The first set was tight but Nekoma took it. Kageyama seemed flustered with himself. He was off today and couldn’t understand why.

“Shake it off, get this next set,” you cheered. Kageyama didn’t look at you as he normally did when you cheered. You couldn’t blame him though, you knew how seriously he took volleyball, practice game or not.

“What’s with Tobio?” Koi asked. You shook your head.

“I’m not sure,” you replied.

“Maybe something is making him nervous,” she said. You turned to look at her, seeing the sly smile appear on her face as she looked down at Kageyama. You looked at Koi, then at Kageyama, and back at Koi. I know damn well she doesn’t actually think she is making Kageyama nervous. He never gets nervous.

“Maybe,” you sighed.

“Get this point Kageyama!” yelled Daichi. It was the second set and Nekoma was at set point. Kageyama was up to serve. You watched intently as he spun the ball in his hands.

“Let’s go Kags!” shouted Koi. You rolled your eyes without even thinking. Kageyama jumped and looked up to the two of you. He didn’t really make a face, he just looked at Koi, then at you, and back down to the ball.

The whistle blew and Kageyama tossed the ball up for his jump serve. The toss was off, causing him to hit the ball straight rather than with a downward spin.

“Oh god…” you mumbled to yourself as you watched the ball travel much farther than suitable.

“Out!” yelled the Nekoma libero. He let the ball drop. From where you were seated, you couldn’t really see whether or not the ball was in. The whistle blew and you looked to the ref, seeing him give the point to Nekoma.

“Well that was a shit game,” said Koi as she got up from the floor.

“They tried their best.”

The two of you went downstairs and waited outside the gym as the boys had their meeting. You sat on the ground and Koi sat on the bench. You watched as the boys slowly started to trail out of the gym one by one. Kageyama was the last one out. His head hung low but he made his way over to you.

“Hey,” he said softly. You got up to face him.

“Hey you played well, okay?” You gently moved some of his hair from his face to see his sweet eyes.

“You’ll get them next time Kags,” chimed in Koi. Kageyama brought his head up.

“It’s Kageyama, please.” He said plainly. Koi’s eyes widened and so did yours.

“Oh yeah sorry.” She said. You looked at Kageyama.

“Did you want to head over to my house? We can grab some boba on the way,” You asked. He nodded, taking your hand.

“Great let’s go, I’m starving.” said Koi, moving to stand next to Kageyama.

“Oh uh Koi I think-“ you began.

“Koi, I was hoping to spend some time with my girlfriend...alone. If that’s okay with you,” interrupted Kageyama. Your heart stopped. Girlfriend? Koi huffed.

“Yup totally fine. I’ll see you two later.” Koi rolled her eyes and left without saying another word. You looked at Kageyama with wide eyes.

“Girlfriend?” His face turned a bright red.

“Oh uh yeah I’ve been meaning to ask you. Sorry, I just said it without thinking.” He rubbed the back of his head nervously. You smiled.

“I was starting to think you were never gonna ask,” you said with a smile. Kageyama smiled back at you and you started to head to your house.

[taglist OPEN: @vangoghpoets @vangoghmusings @lilnuances @jennasquishy8 @ladybird-00 @moonlightsof @maii-thirsts @tamaguchi (the tags were acting funny so I hope I got the right usernames, if not and you wouldn’t like to be part of the taglist lmk!)]

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu #haikyuu tobio #tobio fluff #tobio x you #hq #kageyama #always you. 🌸

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smalltragedy · 4 years ago

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* herman tommeraas, cis man + he/him | you know donovan mercer, right? they’re twenty one, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, four months? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to ice boy by corbin like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole fear hidden behind a stoic stare, bleeding from your nose and from your gums, and the night sky with all its stars, with all its mystery and unknown thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is march 15th, so they’re a pisces, which is unsurprising, all things considered. ( james, 21, est, they/them )

looks away as i finally post his intro after being kinda awol fr however long. i love him a lot n hes also bri’s character mercy’s younger brother so u hv to be nice to him. think abt mercy’s life. then think abt ducky. im sry in advance tht his intro’s a little longer ive hd ducky fr like. a year or two n i’ve been playing him a While <3 as always like this if u’d like 2 plot n i’ll try 2 msg u bck bt otherwise im gna just hop right into threads bc obv i need to. change my methods.

ABUSE, VIOLENCE, DRUG ABUSE, EYE INJURY, GANG MENTIONS TW.

mini playlist.

father ;; the front bottoms / ice boy ;; corbin / lose yourself ;; eminem / my own worst enemy ;; lit / say it ain’t so ;; weezer / maps ;; yeah yeah yeahs / star stopping ;; lil peep / benz truck ;; lil peep / trauma ;; nf / northern downpour ;; panic! at the disco / your graduation ;; modern baseball.

statistics.

full name: donovan mercer.

nickname(s): ducky.

birthday: march 15th, 1999.

zodiac: pisces sun, aquarius moon, aquarius ascending.

mbti & temperament: intp & theorist / phlegmatic.

label: the despondent.

hometown: hell’s kitchen, new york.

sexuality: bisexual (bt not out).

pinterest.

biography.

born in hell’s kitchen to vinny mercer and a mother who ran out of the hospital as fast as she could, as soon as she was able. she’d gone so quick that she’d never given ducky a middle name - just donovan. the younger brother of mercy (shoutout 2 bri)

his father’s the right-hand man of a well known mob boss named lars amaretto, and so, you can imagine the kind of environment ducky (& mercy) grew up in. weapon & drug dealings, interrogations, violence around every corner. a brutal way of living, no place to raise two children.

implied abuse tw // their father was not kind, or merciful - and ducky was a runt compared to mercy, small and sensitive and kinder than his brother. weak, and filled with softness, with big brown eyes and a smile that should’ve been able to melt ice - but it didn’t. and it never did.

he cried often, and was punished often for it until he learned to stop crying - at least in front of their father, and mercy too, at some point. only in the comfort of his room, with doors locked and blinds drawn closed. implied abuse end of tw

he dreamed, too, dreamt often. he’d been obsessed with outer space since childhood, as long as he could remember. school had once shown man landing on the moon, and ducky wanted that. wanted to be that, wanted to be there, up with the stars, discovering the unthinkable.

abuse mention // but it was discouraged, heavily so - projects destroyed by an angry fist only to be reconstructed to the best of ducky’s ability, with mercy’s help, all throughout the night. he’d saved up for a telescope when he was thirteen, but it’d been destroyed almost immediately when discovered. not a day went by that their father didn’t tell ducky that he was, first and foremost, stupid - and would always be. end of abuse mention

to the point where he stopped trying, simply. he never graduated high school.

abuse mention // anxiety mention // anyways … at the age of fifteen, he’d have enough. he was sick of the abuse, the pain - the crying behind closed doors, the sneaking around, the constant feeling of needing to escape, impending doom, anxiety attacks in the shower and in school bathrooms and at the back of the bus where nobody sat besides him because he was - that boy, the son of that man, the brother of that brute. he’d been a teenager and he’d already been an outcast by all means - an outcast in his family, no matter how hard he tried to appease vinny, and an outsider everywhere else.

the plan took months of preparation, paper ripped out from the back of his school notebook and stuffed beneath his mattress, details of his escape from a checklist of essential items to makeshift maps of bus routes to different cities.

all for nothing, the moment vinny discovered it, the edge of a map sticking out after a rushed morning.

heavy abuse tw // violence tw // it’d been the same day he’d gotten the nickname - ducky - the way the wound wrapped below his mouth, and the way it’d begun to heal - puckered, at first, like a duck’s bill. a better name than eyepatch, at the very least. the scar’d run from the arch of his left brow, across his eye, down his cheek, and below his lip. his eye sustained injury, and not allowed to see a doctor about it, it never healed properly.

eye injury // corneal scarring, impairing his left eye. astronaut dreams destroyed, but not in a matter of seconds. in the matter of an hour, maybe more - and that’d been much, much worse.

he stopped trying to run away after that. tried to be more like their father, more like mercy - more brutish, less feeling. spoke less, and less. spoke hardly at all, unless spoken to first.

still didn’t matter. still lived his days in fear, still knew it’d never change. nothing would ever change.

the mercer brothers have been floating around the north carolina scene for ~5ish years now, trailing after their father who is consistently chasing after their mother with no luck. they’re currently residing in palm motel. can we get a hell yeah?

personality & facts.

he’s actually very? intimidating? when you first meet him. mercy’s younger brother, with a criminal’s record almost as long as his - a scarred face and a mean resting face. it takes at least five minutes of conversation beyond small talk before it starts to weigh on your mind that maybe, he’s not as bad as he seems.

and - well, he isn’t. but he’s guarded - so guarded. more-so than mercy, because mercy’s quicker to anger, quicker to react, and ducky tries so hard to drown out the noise. but he’s not a robot, and his facial expressions can give him away in a second.

he’s seen what happened when mercy had a glimpse of something good in his life (though, it wasn’t actually good at all - mercy had someone, at least. at the very least) - and how quickly it’d all fallen, and so ducky puts a barrier between him and others. distant, as much as he can be.

it hurts, because ducky isn’t by any means antisocial. he doesn’t hate people - he wants to be normal, wants to have friends and a girlfriend - or maybe even a boyfriend, god - but he’s so afraid. ducky is, by nature, a very scared person. terrified to his very core. he knows there is always eyes on him, and mercy too, and he knows that nothing is worth getting someone else hurt.

you know him as mercy’s little brother, and he’s quiet you know that - but his name is ducky, and you think - he’s not too bad. and he knows this, knows the doubts. knows that it’ll get back to mercy, eventually, that his brother is nothing more but a pussy. so he fights more than he’d like to, against the guilt that buries itself deep within his chest with every thrown fist. he throws up, afterwards, in the garbage can outside. too much to drink, he says, rare grin - because grins are convincing, and grins with bleeding gums are intimidating. he learned that from his brother.

violence makes him sick to his very stomach. he can’t watch horror films, or even action films, without feeling queasy. there’s been more times than he can count where he’d thrown up after a fight, or after an interrogation, usually in private but in the occasional presence of mercy.

they fight, a lot, sometimes - ducky’s too soft, too weak, and it’s bad and it’s terrible and ducky knows that mercy’s afraid. for him, of their father, and his wraith. ducky knows that if mercy isn’t hard on him now, their father will be on him harder. still. there’s resentment, small but there, like the flame of a match. he doesn’t know what’ll happen when there’s nothing more to burn, but he doesn’t want to find out. he’s afraid to find out.

he’s still in love with the moon and the stars, and the planet’s - and their moons, too. its subdued, now, though. a silent passion - one that is often not watered, left for rot. he sneaks into engineering lectures at the community college, occasionally, or physics, or whatever peeks the small curiosity inside of him.

commits small acts of kindness when nobody looks. doors held open, the meals of elderly folk eating alone suddenly paid. picks up litter besides trash bins, and always cooks extra than what he needs and leaves the rest for mercy. it’s these small things that make him feel, just the slightest, better about himself.

because god - there are layers and layers of self-loathing. it’s a labyrinth, and he’d never speak of it - but he can’t stand his own reflection. doesn’t keep photos of his family, only a few sparingly of mercy.

a liar, sad to say. has little experience with. ehem. intimacy, and the bodies of others, but lies often and says that he does. mostly to his brother, but word travels quick - and he’s not nearly as much as a fuckboy as is rumored, having only been with a handful of girls, if even that. it’s better this way - if people know that he throws others away like they’re nothing.

he ghosts often, too, if he does get to talking with anybody. the moment ducky feels a spark, something pulling at his poor heart, he ghosts. he develops feelings too easily, too often than he’d like. has left many friendships without explanation, because of this. you know the priest in fleabag season 2? the scene where he comes to fleabag’s house? yeah. tht’s ducky!

has maybe half the amount of clients that mercy does, but he’s working on it.

pretends he doesn’t care as much as he does. pretends a lot, like there’s nothing soft to him. but a trained eye can see clearly through this. even so - even if you can see that there’s more to ducky than violence and drug deals - you’d still have to break through a dozen walls.

in the rare occasion you get him talking - i mean, talking a lot - he’ll talk about space. ramble off a dozen useless facts about dwarf stars and black holes and all of jupiter’s moons. about a video game he likes, about nothing and everything at all. but as soon as he begins, he stops - embarrassed. apologizes, shuts his mouth, disappears to wherever. anywhere but there.

drug abuse // has a. complicated relationship with benzos n xanax n a various assortment of painkillers. ironic bc he hates drugs due to. his chosen career n wldnt do most of what they sell, bt yknow. this ws inevitable. hates beer bt forces himself 2 drink it bc toxic masculinity probably man idk.

overall just … he’s a soft boy, with a big heart - bigger than anybody else in his family, that’s for sure, but his exterior is far different than that, and it’s hard to tell.

violence mention // purposely loses fights so that he doesn’t have to severely hurt someone. because sometimes he just - he was raised in a violent environment, and sometimes he snaps. sometimes ducky just fucking snaps. and his vision goes red, and he can’t control himself - because need to survive kicks in, and violence is all he knows. if someone pushes ducky - pushes him enough, he breaks. he fights back. it’s all he knows. it’s all he knows. it’s all he knows, and that’s not an excuse - and he knows this, and god, he’s so tired. he is so. tired.

wanted plots.

u look good tonight ... ;; wld love a connection in which he is feeling emotionally compromised n maybe kinda hs a thing w someone bt hes like. very unreliable n kinda ghosting bc he is very afraid n it wld b maybe bad fr them to b anything other than hook ups. cld apply to smth very intensive or smth very surface lvl i’ll take thousands.

palms sweaty ... moms spaghetti ... ;; ppl tht ducky just hs fkn brawled. cld b anybody fr any reason. ducky prob lost n he prob lost on purpose bt also ur muse cld maybe kick ducky’s ass? cld b a fake fight cld b a real fight. cld b a npc fight n then ur muse cn patch up ducky? possibilities endless. maybe they hv a nice spaghetti dinner n both of them r both bruised up frm their fight. sometimes fights end in spaghetti dinners. thanks eminnem or whatever.

own worse enemy... ;; ducky needs friends bt hes bad at making friends n sometimes he fks shit up by pushing ppl away n self sabotaging n being a major cunt n sometimes he just ghosts bt hes always very remorseful abt it? this cld b a very like. up n down friendship of any type its just. where do they stand. r they friends. r they enemies. r they lovers? probably not lovers. prob just platonic. but still its the thought tht counts.

and also ;; literally just like. anything. clients who buy off of him n like. casual friends n casual enemies n casual hookups. ppl hes ghosted. ppl hes embarrassed himself in front of. maybe ur muse tries to get ducky to socialize or maybe ducky is like. u are too much fr me. n ur muse runs off crying. endless possibilities all u hv to do is call this number now.

#abuse tw #violence tw #drug abuse tw #gangs mention #eye injury tw #irvingintro #( ducky mercer. ) about. / ice boy.#sighs sm #also sry fr hw embarrasingly late this is #did i even spell tht rigth? no #did i spell tht one right? bno.#fuck.

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lovesaadiqa · 3 years ago

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BBL Costs, Prep + Recovery

Im booked!! I talked to a few friends who I know either got this surgery or is getting this done. I wanted one since forever but I wanted my teeth done first. The deciding factor came down to my birthday plans.

Originally I was going to do a birthday tour. First weekend of October in Miami for carnival, 2nd weekend in Atl for Freak Nik, 3rd weekend in Bahamas and finally Nola for the finale. Well Nola was just hit with a storm so yeah that’s out. Once I totaled up the flights, hotels, food and spending money.. I was like hmm, I can get a fat ass and started this process. Immediately looked into surgeon and Dr. Pena was my favorite, his bodies come out so mf snatched, he’s located in Columbia. Columbian surgeons can take out way more fat than American doctors however, the fatality rate is stupid and ultimately the factor that made me choose an American doctor.

The next step was choosing the surgeon for the body I have and the one I want. I weigh 151 and im 5′6″ I’m considered a “skinny bbl”. I started researching doctors in Atlanta (so I could recover at home) and Miami (like duh). I chose to go with Dr. Desouza in Miami with CG Cosmetics for a few reasons. First, I love the look of his skinny bbl’s on other women with the same body type, weight and height as me. Secondly, he was having a special for the end of the year (lipo 360, bbl, jplasma for $6500 for the surgeon I wanted) this almost sold me but it was the surgery date!! Jplasma is skin tightening procedure to help with loose skin, you can only get this with lipo. When they perform lipo they created canals under your skin to remove the fat.. well those same canals are essential when getting Jplasma.

Ok so I decided on the surgeon, contacted the cosmetic group and had a consultation which is pretty much just front, side and back view pictures.. I think they use this to make sure you don’t need a tummy tuck prior to surgery. They also asked me questions about previous surgeries and if i’ve ever had anesthesia. The next step went pretty quickly, we talked about what would be lipo’d (abs, waist, back.. I wanted inner thighs, an additional 2k, but was advised to wait on my pre-op to decide), when I wanted to book and how I'd pay. My consult was on August 30th.. I bitched up when she attempted to take my payment. I am a money hoarder and spending that much money made me feel like I was being financially irresponsible. I called one of my Aunt’s who I felt wouldn’t judge me and also give me sound advise. We talked about my fears, why I was getting the procedure and of course money. My Aunt gave me excellent advice, reassured me and is a professional CNA who offered to accompany me so yeah I dare not turn that down, lol. August 31, 2021, I called my coordinator (the contact between me and my surgeon) and told her I wanted to book, she asked me when I’d be ready and I requested first available which was 9/20/21!! Excited is an understatement.. I'd be 24 days post op on my birthday. After I calmed down I paid in full for multiple reasons: had to in order to secure the date, all surgeries book in this year had to be paid in full, it was the only way to get the discount.. My coordinator gave me so much information I couldn’t see straight (I was also high as shit off life thinking about a fat ass and me in the same sentence).. she emailed + texted everything, congratulated me and we hung up.

I get the emails: “raise you hemoglobin with these vitamins” I purchased vitamin C $2, folic acid $2, iron $3 and floradix $35 - amazon, I take them as directed on the bottle and start eating my ass off (just to give my surgeon more to work with, lol). Talking to one of my gf’s I realize I have to be cleared for surgery?!?! What? I open my email and sure enough I have to have blood work done 15-20 prior to surgery, it was 9/3 and a Friday.. SHIT!! I fly over to an Piedmont Wellstreet urgent care facility as recommended by my friend (she started this process as well so I was crazy grateful for her experience and that she shared it with me). Urgent care was full but opened the next day, my ass was in that line at 7:32 am, I was the 13th person in line and they opened at 8. I get to the desk and my appointment is at 10:30 and I'd have to pay the office visit fee to be seen, it was $155. I came back at my allotted time and was told how much all of my labs would be.. $302. My labs were to be processed and faxed to my surgeon by 9/9 because Labor Day weekend so.. yeah.

I discuss accommodations with my Aunt and realize it’s cheaper, safer and more beneficial for me to go to a recovery house. I search high and low baby and most of them were booked.. found one regardless with lymphatic massages included called Flawless Recovery House. This wasn’t my 1st-6th option but the one with availability on my surgery date so I paid a deposit to hold onto my spot. Total was $1312 for 5 days with 5 massages, I paid a $200 deposit. Next, I booked my flight, round trip $116 with Delta. My surgery date is on a Monday, I have to have my pre-op done on the Saturday prior so I booked a hostel from the 18th-20th on booking.com for $66. I know I could have gotten an airbnb or hotel room but I wanted this experience. I want to go to Amsterdam and stay in a hostel so I need to know what to expect. Also I cannot party, smoke, drink or eat before surgery so fuck it.. a hostel will do, lol.

I smoke big fucking weed and watched someone else’s bbl journey today and realize if I fail the drug test, my surgery will be cancelled and it’ll cost me $1500 to reschedule. Boy the shit sent me into panic mode like I've never experienced before, only to find out the weed isn’t the issue nicotine is, it slows down your heart rate. I can smoke weed just not out of a wood or a rillo and nicotine takes 3-4 days to get out of your system so a bitch barely made it. I just won't be smoking until I get back home lol. Just to be super informative no alcohol, diabetic meds, cocaine, pcp or anything that will fool with your heart or makes your bleed. Today is 9/11 and im one week out from my pre-op... my body is a joke cause I haven’t gained a single pound and normally it’s nothing for me to put on weight. I took my acrylics off, when you’re put to sleep they monitor your oxygen levels with those clamps they put on your fingers and they aren't the most accurate when you have on dark polish or acrylics. I also cannot wear lashes cause when they go to fill this ass in I'll be laying flat on my face. I mean my hair didn’t have requirements but I figure since im naked I might as well be bald.. y'all should see me rn, I look very much like a young man but im hype. I’ll be back later to tell y'all what I pack and purchase prior to my flight. Imma put the dates at the end of each update.. today is 9/11/21

My surgery group send me list of supplies that I would need and the cost came to roughly $1100. Naive me was definitely going to purchase everything on the list from them until I saw Leslie’s (@prettyhaute - on ig) bbl vlog. I went on amazon and got away with murder. Below I’ll list what I purchased and the price I paid versus what the surgery center was quoting me.

Faja - I paid $74.69 - Quoted $160.50 || BBL Pillow - $26.99 - Qouted $42.80 || Arnica pills - $8.95 - Quoted $37.45 || Compression socks - $13.99 for 3 - Quoted $10.70 for 1 || Foams - $17.99 for 3 - Quoted $64.20 for 3 || Scar Cream $$29.82 - Quoted $80.25 || Arnica Gel - $7.92 - Quoted $21.40 ||

There a shit ton of items on the suggested list that I didn't purchase but way more items that wasn’t on the list I still need for instance:

Crocs, benadryll, robe, adult diapers, straws, earplugs, liquid iv, stool softener, antiseptic body wash, avocado float, back board, urinal, pineapple juice, throat calm, 3 moo-moo’s and a massage roller (the crocs are the only thing on this list that cost more than $20). My flight is at 7:15a tomorrow and im so damn nervous but excited. I will spend Saturday and Sunday gallivanting around Miami and then body , ody, ody, ody, ody, ody. I still have to send my entire itinerary to my aunt but I think im all set. 9/17/21

Pre-op was packed but I went on Saturday and was in and out in an hour. I was charged for a covid $80, 3 post-op massages $150 and a drug test $20. I went over my clearance paper work with a medical assistant who also took 9 before pics of me. Keep in mind, your surgery can be cancelled or reschedule if all of you labs aren’t at the surgery center on pre-op day. I cannot stress how important it is to take your labs with you!!! Mine were faxed over from urgent care but I was also provided copies which I took with me. The photos were sent directly to my surgeon to analyze before surgery. From my knowledge, I was also to be fitted for my faja but that never happened, do NOT leave pre-op without a faja!!! I paid for 3 massages from CG totaling $150 which I regret badly. I do NOT recommend getting massages from the surgery center. There are 4-5 different surgeons performing surgeries on any given day and they do at minimum 4 surgeries per day, that’s at least 15-20 different girls with the same surgery and post-op date. CG had 2 massage therapists to drain 15-20 girls. I was drained for 9 mins, your drain massages should last at least 45 mins for maximum drainage. I only used 1 of the 3 massages I paid for and was denied a refund. That is a huge downside to CG once they have your money good fucking luck getting it back! Ps. Ellie was a royal fucking cunt!!!!! She told my medical assistant that I didn’t need a faja so I was never fitted for one and woke up out of surgery with a binder on versus a faja like I should have. I wanted to slap the shit out of her and took the charge on the chin but I wanted my surgery so I refrained.. I was put on a 12 hour fast and contacted an hour after pre-op with my surgery address and time. My fast started at 7pm the day before surgery and my surgery time wa at 6:30a, there was a $300 for showing up to surgery late. All I could bring to surgery was compression socks and a faja (that I didn’t have), I was instructed to bathe with dial (the orange one) before surgery to make sure my incisions weren’t infected, no lotion, perfume, deodorant, makeup, nails, lashes, no jewelry/piercing or hair products and no personals ie, purse money, wallet also you will need a companion or surgery will be cancelled. I’ll upload all my paperwork at the end. Surgery day arrive at the surgery center at 6:15 am how about the entire fucking staff was late! Bitch I was outside in Miami alone with compression socks on and a moo moo, LIVID. No one arrived until 7:10 am, baby I wanted to kill everyone but fuck it, it was go time. I’m escorted to a room, changed into a paper gown, piss tested, my labs were reviewed again and finally my surgeon comes in! We were in the exam room alone which was weird cause I was asshole naked but he kept it 1000% professional, he asked me what I wanted and I say “the fattest ass” he looked me dead in my eyes without a single hesitation and said “it’ll heal like a diaper” LMAO. I showed him areas that I wanted lipo’d to death and he marked me up, I didn’t aka e picture of my mark ups but shit was rolling by then, he walked out I put my paper gown back on and the anesthesiologist walked in. I expressed my biggest concerns to him, I didn’t want to die and I didn’t want to wake up during surgery. He explain why the drug test was so important because certain street drugs will have adverse effect with the anesthesia. My anesthesiologist walked me up to the surgery room and I hopped on the table, they put massage boots on both of my feet and inserted an iv, the mask was put on my face and my heart rate went to heaven, I wanted to shit myself bro. The anesthesiologist told me to make a tight fist, I asked what time it was, 8:08am.. I woke up to a nurse helping me into a wheelchair with a binder around my waist and I was scream crying because my entire body ached, I didn't know where I was and the anesthesia is no hoe. I was escorted to my recovery house’s transportation van and taken to my damn bed.

I chose Flawlesss Recovery House with Ms. Opal. I paid a $200 deposit before 2 weeks before surgery and the balance the day I left. I opted for a 5 day stay. I loved it there bro and couldn’t imagine trying to recover at a hotel or air bnb! There were nurses there 24-7, I was roomed with one other girl but the house had a total of 4 bedrooms, one of which no one occupied and the door was always shut but my room was the only room with 2 beds, the others had 3 beds. I had a call button, it was love, the nurses came expeditiously when I rang it. They made 3 home cooked meals per day and I don’t eat meat, they accommodated me with no hesitation. I loved it man. So couple hours after surgery I attempted to use the bathroom on my own and blacked out, the anesthesia is really fucking strong and took an entire day to wear off (for me), the nurses helped me pee in a cup until then. Post op day 9/21/21, I went in to make sure I looked good, got a faja finally and received that lousy as drain. Back to the recovery house I was able to walk finally w/o passing out and in went my foams, I also could pee by myself with the use of a urinal. I was constipated for 2 days, first bowel movement was on post op day 2. I paid for an independent massage therapist named Tatiana, she used a ultrasound machine to massage me so I cancelled her. When I took my faja off for my massage it was washed and dried by the time I was done, I took a shower and put my faja on with my foams. I cancelled Tatiana because don’t let nobody use no machine on you until you are at least 2 weeks post op, hand massages only. All the girls were getting massaged by the literal best massage therapist (in my opinion) her name is Brittany, I could cry she was EVERYTHING, I was tender but she put the painful massage theory to bed! She taught me how to drain myself and how to open my incisions without the q-tip looking thing. In 45 mins she drained 5 of those doggy pad things worth of fluid off of me. I received 4 massages in 5 days. I left on Saturday 9/25/2021 on Sunday, back in Atlanta, I received my 5th massage and that when I was told I have not one but 2 seromas. I swear on everything I love it was because everyone wakes up from surgery with a faja on but not me (Fuck you Ellie, lil bitch) I had on a binder (its what they use for tummy tucks). The lady who did my 1st massage in Atlanta was Bri, not gone post her ig cause she did a damn good massage but when I asked her to syringe drain me the good sis stuck this long ass needle in my seroma but could get the fluid out, cancelled her too (the massage was good asf tho but nah). Tired and tried I bit the bullet and booked a packed with Dream Body ($455 for 5 massage, I think, don’t quote me look it up on there site and follow them on ig) because they are the biggest name in Atlanta, Jayda Wayda goes to them. The most painful massage yet, yes Michelle lil ass is so strong but she will get the fluid up off you. She made me tear up bad and no matter how much I screamed or even tried to push her off of me she understood the assignment, Michelle helped me get back into my faja after my massage and told me my faja was too big and to have it altered. She recommended a lady on ig @siri2sir but to know me is to know I altered my shit myself. Allow me to tell y'all, I look good asf!!!!!!! 10/4/2021

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mccnyoongi · 5 years ago

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buttercup ⇢ pt one

⇢ pairing: yoongi x fem!reader

⇢ genre: smut + slight angst

⇢ au: college!au, fwb!au, stoner!yoongi, assholeish!yoongi, fuckboyish!yoongi fwb to lovers trope

⇢ word count: 6k+

⇢ warnings: smut, honestly mostly porn, unprotected sex, recreational use of drugs & alcohol, dirty talk, praise, degradation, ridiculously excessive use of pet names, fingering, dom!Yoongi, unprotected sex, slight dumbification (whoops), hair pulling, creampie??, oral (f receiving), pussy slaping, reader has a thing for Yoongi’s hands because who doesn’t, reader and yoongi are both sarcastic and oblivious, this part is basically pwp.

⇢ synopsis: Min Yoongi wears leather jackets, fucks you like he hates you, spends most of his days on the wrong side of a blunt, and calls you the sweetest names when no one else is around. And you definitely aren’t falling in love with him.

⇢ author’s note: so yes, buttercup is being cut up into two parts thanks to a lot of my life getting uprooted this week!!! ill spare you the details but everything is really chaotic rn so im sorry this isnt exactly what i promised :( thank u for all the insane amont of love ive gotten so far. this is a pretty um... filthy piece of writing skfjsd and it’s definitely not perfect and id love to get better with everything i put out on here but i hope u guys enoy ily xx

If there was a magic lantern hidden somewhere on the campus of this university, you’d find it and your first wish would be to make it so that no one found out about this whole illicit affair you’ve been having with Min Yoongi. The secrecy was fun, sexy like you guys had a whole Mr. and Mrs. Smith thing going on. Or something. Your second wish would be to make his dick vibrate.

But then he just had to go and go down on you in a bathroom during a party at the Beta Tau Rho house, not even a month into the fall semester, knowing you wouldn’t be able to be quiet or subtle at all. And he was so smug about it too, the fucker.

You can still feel the embarrassment buzzing under the surface of your cheeks from when you walked out that bathroom door and a dozen frat boys and mutual friends of yours and Yoongi’s were out there, waiting for the two of you to emerge and giving you a round of applause when you did. Yoongi had just laughed and rolled his eyes before leading you to the kitchen to get the pair of you some drinks. He’s always been particularly good at brushing that shit off of his shoulder. You aren’t, but you’re pretty good at pretending.

Maybe you should have ended it all that night. Of course, you didn’t. You figured, hey, you’re young and in school so fuck making good decisions. Of course, the fact that no other guy has ever been able to dick you down nearly as well as Min Yoongi can is probably a huge contributing factor.

Sure he might be grumpy, and sarcastic, and he tries way too hard to look cool and nonchalant, but he’s also the first guy to ever make you squirt. And you’re pretty sure that the way he waxes poetic about your pussy would make even Shakespeare swoon. So maybe the pros outweigh the cons, but only just.

“I can’t believe you’ve been getting Yoongi dick for almost three full months and haven’t divulged every single detail and vein to me, you cold, uncaring bitch-” Jimin’s voice is far too loud for the student-run coffee shop the two of you regulared every Sunday; a tradition that Jimin always insisted upon. He loves his traditions almost as much as he loves destroying any personal boundaries between the two of you.

“Keep going Park, see if I ever buy your coffee again.”

“Don’t change the subject,” You can’t say you’re surprised that Jimin is reacting like this. Self-proclaimed ‘disaster bisexual,’ Jimin was one of the very first friends you made back when you were a shy, barely functioning freshman.

He actually introduced you to all his frat brothers, and a large number of the people you now call your friends. Including Yoongi, whose dick seems to be a reoccurring topic between you and… most people you know. Even if they weren’t at that dumb party, Jungkook made sure that every living being that stepped onto campus was aware of the newly found out fuckbuddies.

“We don’t keep anything from each other, Y/N,” He’s whining over his coffee now, full lips perched in that pretty pout that he regularly uses to his advantage. “I even told you about that time I puked on Namjoon’s dick in our second year!”

“Mmm, and I wish you hadn’t told me, Minnie-” The visual still haunts you, but Jimin has never had any predilections when it came to oversharing, especially not with people who have the misfortune of being his best friends. “‘Sides, I didn’t figure it was important, the whole Yoongi thing-”

“His dick, you mean.”

“Because it’s not like we’re getting married,” You carefully ignore him, a useful habit you’ve picked up three years into being his friend. “Just sex, remember?”

“So fucking what? You told me how you sucked Jeon’s cock in a movie theatre less than twelve hours after it happened-” You take a large gulp of your own iced coffee to busy yourself when the shameful memory is brought up. Not shameful because of the promiscuity of the act, no you’re an adult, thank you very much, but rather because of the boy you performed them on. Jeon Jungkook is now more of an annoying younger brother to you than anything. Not to mention he’s got a giant mouth that couldn’t keep a secret even if it killed him.

“Jesus you could’ve picked any other example-” You groan out as Jimin smirked, receiving the exact reaction from you he wanted. You think you’d have learned by now. “I’m sorry, okay? You big baby.”

“Hey, you’re on thin ice,” He points an accusatory finger at you and you have to fight the urge to smack it out of your face. “Now you have to make it up to me.”

You sigh- Jimin can really be exhausting when you’re only half a medium coffee in. “And how do you expect me to do that, Park.”

“Dick details, fucking obviously,” He says it like you’re a moron for even asking. And maybe you are. “Well details in general, I guess. You know, the basics; length, girth, does he make you call him daddy, is he good- I mean he must be un-fucking-real if you’ve been bouncing on it for three goddamn months, you whore.”

“I’m not giving you measurements, Jimin, I’ve yet to take a tape measure to it- and stop assuming everyone has a daddy kink just ‘cause you do.”

“Okay, vanilla bitch. You’re lucky I already know he’s got a monster cock from that time he streaked at that post-mid-term party next year.”

“Then why’d you even ask?”

“To see if you’d tell me the truth. It was a test and you failed.”

“I may be a college student but you’re gonna have to threaten me with a little more than a failing grade to spook me,” You roll your eyes playfully- there’s no real threat in his words, there never is.

“You’re right, I’m sure you’d much rather be punished by Yoongi, huh?”

..............................................................................

Watching Yoongi roll a joint, his long, slender and experienced fingers moving quickly and deftly, has always had this near hypnotizing-like effect on you. His apartment smells like weed, the scent never surprising and would almost be overwhelming if you weren’t so used to it by now. The sight alone is almost enough to make you wet. But you’re stronger than that- except for when you’re not.

Sexy hands aside, but unfortunately not on you, you’re thankful for his cannabis-related expertise because a) you can’t roll one yourself to save your life and b) despite normally reserving your consumption habits for parties, you feel like you deserve a fat one after the week you’ve had. What with, you know, the stress of having every student on campus knowing about yours and Yoongi’s torrid affair, thanks to fucking Jeon Jungkook. Brat. Plus incessant goading from both Jimin and your roommate, Irene- equally angry as Jimin about your worst kept secret- has only made you sink further into your insecure and paranoid thoughts.

The weed would help, you’d told yourself when your phone pinged with that much anticipated what’re u up 2? late night text from the raven-haired devil himself. Yep, it was the weed, the comforting blanket of getting high. And had nothing to do with the boy that was offering them. Not even his fat cock or magnetic pull he seemed to have on you.

“Alright, dove,” He says from his spot on his worn-out single-dorm couch- the names don’t tend to surprise you the way they used to. You kinda figured that the affection-starved Yoongi had just you know… gotten comfortable with the girl he had been fucking for the last couple of months. No big deal. Sure they made your heart swell and your panties dampen, but then it could be looked at as a positive.

He looks up at you from his spot on the couch, where he’s uncomfortably hunched over the table as he works and notices how you’re looking rather spaced out- not entirely rare for you. He’s used to the hundred-mile stare you tend to adopt when deep in thought, though it’s considerably less common for a sober you.

“Dove?” Nothing. “Y/N?” It’s the use of your actual name from his lips that finally grabs your attention. You finally turn your head to look at him, the glaze of deep thought finally leaving your eyes. An eyebrow quirks to let him know you’ve heard him, but his gaze remains piercing and unwavering on yours. “You need to stop worrying so much, dove.”

“That’s what the weed is for, Yoongs.”

“The weed? You’re just here so I can smoke you out then, huh? No ulterior motives, hm?” His tone is as dry and sarcastic as ever, qualities he had quickly become known for around campus. He shurgs “Fine. Just here to sesh. C’mere then.”

You scoot closer to his side of the couch, not even thinking twice before listening to him. His tongue is tantalizing as he licks the rolling paper, even if he doesn’t mean it to be. He’s almost always tantalizing to you.

“Don’t be grumpy. You invited me over,” Your words are softer than you meant, but your proximity to him makes you feel stilted. He was right, you really needed a smoke, more on edge than ever.

“Well, technically,” He starts, unlit, perfectly rolled joint now perched between his lips. He grabs at your legs before continued so that you were resting sideways on the black couch, legs strewn over legs, thighs touching thighs. “I invited the best pussy on campus over.” You crinkle your nose at his bluntness.

“Yoongi-” You scold indignantly and pinch at a well-toned bicep. “Don’t be an asshole, you asshole.” He grins despite the insult like he’d expected it. Or he’s revelling in it.

“You know I’m just fucking around, angel,” His arm tucks around your waist comfortably, pulling you even closer. “Tryna chill you out. I can tell when you’re all strung out. I know how you,” He pokes you in the middle of the forehead, still grinning, as you pout from being called strung out. “Tick.”

He really does, doesn't he? The thought is mildly terrifying, and you think that Yoongi might be too smart or his own good sometimes. When he’s not smoking himself into another dimension, that is.

He leans back into his seat, uncurling from around you to finally light up. A few sparks later and the room is fogging up with overly pungent smoke- the cheap smell makes you think that he probably bought it off of Hobi, too lazy to go any further off-campus than his own block of apartments to one of the nice but relatively affordable dispensaries. You crinkle your nose at the scent, grateful he’s too distracted to notice since he’d probably just tease you for liking the fancy shit more. At least you trust Hobi, and he lives only two buildings down from Yoongi. Truly an age of convenience.

A few passes, tokes, whatevers later, and you’re feeling substantially... floaty. You’ve completely relaxed, choosing to lie down rather than put the effort into sitting up, though your legs are still thrown across your equally high counterpart’s. What’s left of the roach is left to burn in one of many strategically placed ashtrays around the apartment, this one being on the living room table.

Yoongi has barely moved in the past while, head resting lazily on the back of the couch, black hair messy and his neck- which is somehow handsome to you- stretched out, and hands resting against your bare knees. You’ve barely paid him any mind, the silence nothing but comforting and easy.

Which is why you can’t help but jolt just a little in surprise when those hands, the hypnotizing ones you’re so obsessed with suddenly start creeping up your legs, halfway up your thighs, carefully kneading the supple flesh he finds there. He chuckles at your reaction, finally picking his up his head to watch you through heavy-lidded eyes. “Bet you’re extra sensitive right now, huh petal?” He doesn’t have to bet because he knows it’s true, knows how needy you get when you’ve smoked. And he loves it- it’s why he never makes you pay for any of the times he smokes you out.

“Fuck off,” You whine at his light-hearted teasing, but Yoongi just giggles- he fucking giggles- in response, hands still travelling the expanse of your thighs.

“Be nice,” His words are still jovial, but there’s a gruffness behind them that sends a shiver down your spine, despite the relative stuffiness of his living room.

“I am nice, you’re just a dick,” You pout- childish, but you can’t quite come up with anything more clever at the moment. The jab may be weaker than your usual quips, but Yoongi seems to have decided it’s enough to warrant a punishment of sorts, as he sends a quick slap onto your thigh. It’s certainly not the harshest hit you’ve received from him, it’s more playful than anything, but it’s enough to make you whine, not even noticing when your own hands jump down to grab at him and your now sore flesh.

His eyes take on a new sort of darkness, beyond the dilated pupils from the high he’s in the middle of as he grabs at your wrists, any assault you had planned halting in its tracks. His large hands that you’ve drooled over- figuratively and literally- many a time are big enough that he only needs one of them to hold both of yours steady. He uses his grip on you to yank you back up to a sitting position, where your noses almost touch and you can feel his breath fan across your lips.

“I told you, I know how you tick,” He lets his tongue swipe out to wet his lips, the act distracts you and makes you mimic it with your own tongue and lips. The smirk he gives you is all at once wicked and panty dampening. “Which means I know you like it when I’m mean. I know you like when I treat you like this, like my little slut,” The word makes you draw in a breath as your face reddens in humiliation and tension. “And- and I know you’re probably soaking through your panties right now, all over my couch. Making a fucking mess.”

It infuriates you to no end how right he is as your breaths come out shaky and uneven as you feel your pussy flutter around nothing beneath your shorts and panties.

“Aren’t you?” His tone doesn’t leave room for playfulness anymore, and you’re nodding dumbly before you can give it a second thought. “Good girl.”

He doesn’t give you any time to bask in the praise before he’s leaning in to capture your lips in a searing and sloppy kiss. He’s domineering even in the way he kisses you, teeth biting and tongue sweeping into your own mouth as he revels in the small sounds that escape you. His hands leave your wrists, freeing them so you can grip onto raven locks with a newly freed hand as his own wrap around your waist.

Every sense is filled with him, and it is all at once comforting and exhilarating.

He tugs and roughly manhandles you so that you’re properly astride his denim-covered thighs, your lips never untangling in the process. When your lips finally do come apart, it’s with a lewd sound and a gasp from your mouth. He’s still smirking.

“Gonna fuck you so good petal,” Yoongi has always been so blunt and unforgiving, whether in bed or out and it had been one of the things that first attracted you to him, besides his obvious good looks.

Before the two of you had even gotten together, when you were friends who didn’t fuck on the regular, you had even mustered up the courage to touch yourself to the thought of him speaking to you like this- your own fingers circling your clit and delving into yourself without abandon. You had only been able to imagine up a fraction of his sexual prowess.

Like the time only a few weeks ago you admitted to him in a foggy haze, high than you think you’d ever been. how you’d brought yourself to climax with images and soundbites of him flitting through your head. He’d immediately made you put on a show for him- recreating those nights, but this time with him sitting feet away from you and ignoring your pleas for him to touch you.

Right now, however, the only things keeping you grounded in reality is the feeling of the muscles in his thighs flexing beneath you, though nowhere near where you truly ache to be touched, and one of his hands brutishly tangled in your hair, pulling harshly so he can have easy access to your neck. Plush lips start soft, kissing and licking at the skin there, before his teeth join in, biting and sucking like he loves the taste of you (because he does).

“Y-yoongi-” You’re trying to keep the whimpers at bay, like maybe if you stop yourself from seeming so turned on so fast it’ll get him to fuck you faster. “C’mon, just fuck me already.”

“So demanding for such a needy bitch,” He has you squirming on his lap and you don’t know why you thought you had any power over him left. “Have you forgotten your place? Can’t think of anything else but getting fucked, huh?”

You nod in agreement, but find out he must want a verbal response when you’re met with a sharp spank to your ass that has you squealing and bucking into his lap. “Yeah, yeah Yoongi ‘m sorry, just need it.”

“I know, baby, I know, you can’t even help it when you get all messy like this, I know,” You can’t decide whether his words are sweet or patronizing when he coos at you like that, but either way he’s got you another pair of panties.

“Need you to fix it, Yoongs,” All pride is out the window when he’s got you like this, and you love pleading with him to give you what you want almost as much as likes making you beg.

“I will,” He gives you one more harsh bite to the junction of your neck and your shoulder that you know will blossom into a bruise just in time for your 10 AM class tomorrow and you hiss at the mingling of pain and pleasure. “Now fucking get up,” He pats lightly at your thigh twice at the order.

You’re in no position to disobey, and you know from experience that not listening to him will end up with a sore ass and no release in sight. You stand up on shaky, doe-like legs and he grins at the sight of you. He stands up with you, his lean form and strong stance making him look taller than he really is. Then his long fingers are pulling at what little clothing you have, stripping you of both your tank top and your shorts and your bra isn’t far behind. Soon you’re clad only in your panties while he’s still fully clothed in black form-fitting jeans and a plain white t-shirt. Thankfully he leaves his cliche, but devastatingly sexy leather jacket at the door.

He doesn’t make any move to undress at all and you hope to god he will eventually- you love seeing his honey-coloured skin covered in a thin layer of sweat as he fucks you into oblivion. But for now, he stays fully clothed and he roughly pulls you by your upper arm until he can bend you over the arm of the couch, panty-covered ass high and perfectly on display for him.

“God, you’re fucking dripping,” He taunts, fingers running over your pussy through the thin cotton, making you whine into the rough cushion your face is resting on. “All this from almost nothing, huh? You’re such a fucking slut for me, shit.” He sounds genuinely amazed by you and when you uncomfortably crane your neck back to get a good look at him you let out a proper moan. He must have stripped his shirt off when you weren’t facing him, because his chest is bare for you to gaze at, or you would gaze at it if you weren’t distracted by the hand that isn’t on you, which is lazily working over his cock, rock hard and aching through his jeans.

He smirks when he notices what’s grabbed your attention, knowing you’re only moments away from quite literally drooling on his pillows. “Is this what you want? Hm?”

“Ye-yeah your cock, Yoongi, need your cock,” Your face burns red and blood burns hot as the crude words leave your mouth.

“And you’ll fucking get it, dove,” The cute name contrasts the second harsh spank he lands on your ass and you moan at the delicious sting.

You think that he must be about to tear your panties off and sink into you, but that would be too predictable and Yoongi loves to keep you on your toes. Instead, he disappears from your line of sight, a dull thump coming from the hardwood as he drops to his knees, feline gaze now level with your cunt.

“Yoongi-” You’re whining again, and you even have to hold yourself back from stomping your foot childishly because, god, you just need him to do something.

And then he finally does- he licks a thick stripe, right from your clit to your entrance, still over your panties, and you gasp in surprise. He does it again, twice, three, four times until your hips are bucking and you’re whining because you need more, you need him to actually touch you and not be a giant fucking tease for once in his life.

“Be fucking patient,” He hisses out, but at least he’s finally rolling your underwear down your legs to toss them somewhere across the room. “Or I swear to god, I’ll hold you down just like this so you can’t even squirm while I get myself off all over your messy cunt,” His hand is running up and down your bare pussy as he speaks, spreading the wetness around, to your clit and your thighs and your ass and then back again. “And then I’ll send you home without touching you or cleaning you up, so you’ll have to take the subway home covered in my come and fucking trembling. So be fucking good.” At the last word, he lands a mean slap against your gushing cunt and you let out an embarrassing squeak.

“Shit-fuck- Yoongi, please, just-” You stutter through your words, needing to get them out, though you don’t know why. “I’ll be good, okay? ‘M your good girl, I am, promise, I’ll be good.”

He doesn’t respond, at least not verbally. But you have to assume he’s happy with your desperate response when he finally delves into your pussy like a man starved, tongue licking into you, the muscle sending spasms up and down your legs. You have to muffle your moans by biting into a pillow, not needing another altercation with his neighbours, but you want nothing more than to yell his name as loud as you can until your voice goes hoarse when he shakes his head from side to side, tongue still buried inside of you and one of his hands now roughly circling your clit.

It’s too much, but it’s not nearly enough. It’s when he switches positions between his hand and mouth that you think you might explode; his mouth latches onto your clit, tongue circling and playing with it and two fingers fucking into you, preparing you for the impressive girth of his own cock.

Your teeth let go of the strong grip it has so you can warn him of your impending orgasm. “Yoongi- gonna come-” You manage to choke out between barely quieted moans.

You know that he wouldn’t be able to respond if he was still suckling on your clit, but you still whine and wiggle your hips as he pulls away, earning you yet another spank to your rear, where you can only assume a nice handprint is forming. “Yeah? Want you to come all over my face, like a good messy whore- gotta come for me before I can fuck you like you need.”

When his mouth finds your swollen clit again, you can’t help it as your orgasm barrels through you almost violently, every muscle tensing and fingers grasping at whatever they can find, neighbour’s delicate sensibilities forgotten as you moan out Yoongi’s name. He licks you through it, fingers no longer pistoning into you. When the last of the tremors have faded he finally pulls away, using his clean hand to wipe your mess off of his chin, though it hardly cleans him.

“Good fucking girl,” The roughness with which he was grinding his still covered bulge into your now sopping wet center would be impossible to ignore even if your head weren’t a million miles away. But for now, everything is Yoongi, every single scent is filled with him and you think that that might be making your head even fuzzier than the drugs coursing through your system, but you’re too far gone to be sure. Or to even care.

Because all you can think about is his mouth-watering hands kneading at the slightly pinkened skin of your ass, his mouth-watering cock rutting against you and his mouth-watering, well, mouth pressing wet kisses and occasional bites up and down your spine. “Yoongi,” You meant to speak with at least a little more conviction, but his name comes out as little more than a mumble.

“Hm,” He hums against your skin and even those slight vibrations reverberate straight to your heart, which starts beating faster at the thought of what’s to come. “What, is my babygirl still needy?”

The use of the word my in front of the affectionate name makes your heart jump, but you don’t even have time to scold yourself for thinking with your post-orgasmic pussy before he continues talking with that sinful mouth of him. “Such a greedy, desperate girl, won’t be happy ‘til you’re stuffed full of my fat cock,” His words have you whining and grinding back against him, where you don’t have to look to know you’re leaving a stain on his favourite jeans. If you’re unlucky- or lucky depending on your mood- he’ll make you clean it up with your tongue as further delicious torture.

But smoking makes Yoongi needy too, no matter how much he teases you for the effect it has on you, and he can’t wait much longer, not with his cock so hard he was a razor blades’ edge from losing his mind. He needs to be inside you as much as you need him.

Which is why you don’t doubt him for a second when he’s murmuring things about how he’s ‘gonna fuck you so good, gonna fuck you stupid,’ and you can only respond with even quieter whispers of ‘I knows’ and ‘pleases’ as he strips himself oh the rest of his clothes, hissing from oversensitivity as his cock makes contact with the air. It’s wonderfully overwhelming and he’s not even fucking you yet.

You can’t even explain how grateful you are when Yoongi turns you around because you love just seeing his cock. You’ve never been one to describe guys’ dicks as pretty before- except that TA you managed to fuck before Jimin sunk his claws into him, Kim Seokjin, because, well, you’re not blind. But Yoongi’s dick is gorgeous. It’s not the biggest thing you’ve ever seen, and it doesn’t have to be, not when it’s girthy enough to make you salivate with a curve that points to the heavens. Gorgeous.

He’s pulling you on top of him so he can sit back down and you’re back to straddling him, and you don’t complain because you know he’s tired both from the pot and crouching on his haunches for access to your center not two minutes ago. Plus he loves when you ride him, breasts bouncing in his face, wetness making a mess out of his lap and full access of your entire body for both his hands and lips.

“Need you to bounce on my fat cock before I fucking explode, baby,” And you’d have to be some sort of a madwoman to deny him.

“Need it too, Yoongs,” You don’t know why you feel the need to remind how desperate you are for him, surely he can feel it, your swollen pussy resting only centimetres above his throbbing length. “Can’t think of anything else.”

“I know,” He’s rubbing the angry red tip against your sopping folds, tinges of overstimulation making you jolt. Or you would jolt if his hands weren’t heavy on your waist, keeping you steady so you couldn’t a) get away from his cock or b) properly sink down onto it. “So pathetic and perfect for me like this, all cock drunk and fucked out and I haven’t even fucked you yet, huh?”

You nod frantically, and you can’t even find the energy to be embarrassed when a hand comes up to pet your hair with a condescending ‘awe’ as he pouts at you. You bat his hand away with a whine and furrowed eyebrows, but all that gets you is his hand tangled in your hair, yanking sharply in retaliation. “Careful, slut, or you won’t be coming for the next week-”

“Please, Yoongi-” You don’t let him finish, knowing from experience to always take his threats seriously. “I’m sorry, I’m fucking sorry, okay just please-”

You cut yourself off with a high pitched, tea kettle-like squeak as he uses his hands on you as leverage to have you sink down onto his cock in one fell swoop. “Shit, god, you’re always so fucking tight around me, fuck me.”

I am, is what you wish you were coherent enough to snark back with, but you’re sure no one would blame you if they could feel what you feel right now. And what you’re feeling right now is how well Yoongi feels inside of you, like no cock you’ve ever had. Every ridge and vein on his cock fills you up to the fucking brim, no room left for a pinky or a thought that has to do with anything other than Yoongi, Yoongi, Yoongi.

And then he starts with those devilish moments of his hip, fucking into you shallowly and slowly to start and it’s all Yoongi’s dick.

“Fucking bounce on it, dove. Fuck yourself on my cock, show me how much you need it,” He speaks through gritted teeth, each word a struggle as he tries not to fuck into you without thought. And it’s with the satisfaction you get knowing he’s just as desperate for you as you are for him that you find the strength to do as he says.

With quivering thighs, you push up and off of his cock, the two of you sharing a harmonious groan at the feeling, foreheads pressed against each other, skin sweaty. And this all just in the calm before the storm.

It’s not long before the both of you are moving frantically, mere seconds, really. It’s intense and all-encompassing, as you grind and roll your hips, cock deeper than you knew to be possible, and his bucking his own hips into you roughly, no doubt as deeply in some sort of euphoria as you are. His hands are everywhere and so are his lips. He sucks marks into your tits and gropes your ass, controlling your movements to the best of his abilities.

All of that, plus your clit grinding against his pelvic bone every other second and your head just might be in another universe.

Yoongi’s words are swirling around in your head, though you’re not properly taking any of it in- his velvety voice goes on about how wet you are, how tight you are, how you’re a good girl and it’s all another instrument in your downfall. You’ve never been much for heights but being with Yoongi feels like something akin to what you assume bungee jumping is like, and you’re just about at that point where your cord runs out of length and your heart drops to the bottom of your stomach.

“Tell me you’re fucking close, baby, c’mon,” This is as close to pleading as you can ever get Yoongi but you’re still swimming in pride. He brings a hand off of your ass to cup your cheek, brushing away your now mussed hair and a single stray tear and you drink in the look in his eyes, dark red-rimmed and needing. “Gonna fill you up with my come, just like I know you like, my perfect little cumslut, fuck, just need you to come first, yeah? All over my fucking cock.”

And with a particularly hard grasp at your ass, bringing you to grind your clit against him again, you’re gone. It’s considerably less intense than the previous one, as many second orgasms are, but your head is still spinning and you think you might have drooled a little, but you don’t mind and you know Yoongi doesn’t. Your attempts to stifle your moans are unsuccessful as the name of the man attached to your favourite cock falls from your lips like a mantra.

And where your orgasm is, Yoongi is rarely far behind- he loves seeing you fall apart around him, because of him and you always clench so fucking hard around him in the peak of your pleasure how could he fucking not. He’s grunting, moaning, damn near growling as he spurts his own release as deep into you as he possibly can, coating every inch of your delectable pussy, vague mumbles of how he’s filling you up, just like you’re meant to be that you can just barely hear.

Shakey breaths hit each of your faces as you come down, now still and worn out. Your chests move up and down and you don’t know when you’ve buried your face into the crook of his neck, but the warmth and smell are more comforting than any hit you’ve ever taken off of one of his blunts.

“Shit, buttercup,” He chuckles, the vibrations rumbling through his chest and where you’ve tucked yourself He runs a hand through his sweaty black locks, the other hand locked around your waist. “I don’t know how we’re gonna move without making this couch fucking disgusting.” Mood killer.

“Don’t give a shit.”

“Yeah, but I do. Especially if Joon or Hobi someone finds it and makes a big fucking deal out of it, like no other guy in his twenties has some come stained furniture.”

You pull back from the spot you wish he’d just let you fall asleep in so he can see your pout. He can’t find the sight of you… adorable? Your hair matted, bruises, courtesy of yours truly littering your tits and chest, a thin sheen of sweat making your skin glow and bottom lip jutted out exactly enough to be overexaggerated and so fucking adorable.

At that moment he’s glad that about three weeks ago the two of you had started to break the unspoken no sleeping over after sex rule because he just wants to clean you up and feel you curl yourself around him like you like to.

You don’t know what time it is, just that it’s late and that it doesn't matter, because this was certainly time well spent. You wonder how much sleep you’ve given up in lieu of Yoongi’s pretty dick. Of course, it does matter... because you have a 9 am class tomorrow morning that you can’t miss, but that’s for future you to worry about. For now, it’s time to try to get up without defiling this Ikea couch (you failed miserably and giggled about it while Yoongi groaned in mock pain), burn out just one more joint, steal some clothes for bed and some snacks from his fridge, and pass the fuck out on his bed, which you think is way better than yours, but that has nothing to do with the boy in it or his comforting warmth and smell.

..............................................................................

Past you is a dumb bitch. Also maybe current you. Point being, you hate you, because you’re sore and stiff and ten minutes late to your dumb 9 am class and it’s all Yoongi’s fucking fault. You texted him this much, calling him a ‘little bitch boy’ for not even waking you up to make you a cup of coffee with his fancy instant coffee machine before you left. He hasn’t responded yet because holy fuck does that guy sleep like a rock. A really cute, cuddly, sex-god rock.

But, as usual, Jimin came in clutch, handing you off a coffee as your paths crossed on campus, each of you heading to your respective classes. He gave you a one-armed-too-tight hug and a comment on how you have that very glamourous ‘I got fucked by Min Fucking Yoongi last night and you didn’t so I’m better than you look.’ You tried to take it as a compliment as you thanked him for the coffee. He gave you a cute kiss to your forehead that reminded you you could never even be annoyed at him for too long.

And now you’re in class. Headache from not getting enough sleep getting worse by the second while you tried not to think about what judgements people must be passing on you, with your sunglasses inside and hickeys you didn’t have time to cover up.

When your phone pings you assume it’s Jimin, with something slutty or sarcastic or both. But it’s not. It’s Yoongi- well, it’s what you have Yoongi’s number saved under, aka the drooling emoji three times over… You’re surprised he’s awake, you’re pretty sure he doesn’t have shit to do until the afternoon.

You have a fleeting thought that it could be a dick pic- yeah it’s a little early for that kind of dumb fuckboy behaviour, and you’d previously thought that too, but Kim Taehyung proved you wrong last year.

Yoongi isn’t a dick pic kind of guy anyway. No, he’s the guy that sends pictures of his hand around your throat that one night you let him take artsy photos of you two fucking on his film camera. The kind of guy that sends you audios of him jerking off and moaning your name that you listen to through your earphones in between classes because he knew you wouldn’t be able to help yourself. He’s the guy that drives you crazy because you can never quite predict what he’s gonna do next.

[9:23 am] From 🤤🤤🤤: you could have woken me you know dummy

[9:24 am] From 🤤🤤🤤: subways are gross in the morning

[9:25 am] From 🤤🤤🤤: i could have u know, driven u…

[9:26 am] From 🤤🤤🤤: cant really say no to u buttercup.

You don’t know why you’re heart’s beating so fast so you reprimand yourself for thinking with your pussy. Min motherfucking Yoongi is gonna be the death of you.

#bts smut #btswritingcafe #yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #bts x reader #buttercup #bts fic #yoongi fic #bts fanfiction #bts oneshot #bts writing #def not my best work but u know JKFDHKJFHS

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softbiker · 5 years ago

Text

Bucky Barnes Oneshot

Warnings: a couple of bad words

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: After being injured on a mission, Bucky winds up spending a day with the Avengers newest recruit. Bucky x Reader

A/N: This is my submission for @nacho-bucky ‘s writing challenge! My prompt was ‘the smell of freshly baked bread’. As a side note, I drank a whole pot of coffee yesterday and wrote this in one afternoon, so it’s also unedited :) As always, let me know what you think!

By the time the quinjet is an hour out from New York, Bucky Barnes is in an irredeemably foul mood.

Breaking up terror cells in Germany was supposed to be an easy mission - in and out, with the practiced ease of their well-oiled strike team. Really, they took the mission to spare German special forces the trouble...that, and a potential connection to an old Red Room contact of Natasha’s. With their “dream team” (Sam’s words, not Bucky’s) of Cap, Bucky, Sam, and Natasha, this should have been a light op, a scrimmage, Nerf ball.

Turns out superheroing is a contact sport, and they’ve got the bombs and broken ribs to prove it. A train station, a decoy, and an explosive device Natasha failed to disarm. With Sam coordinating civilian evacuation, there had only been a couple dozen injuries, but the suspect had slipped away, leaving them bruised and empty-handed.

Bucky had taken a brutal hit as he pulled Nat to safety, and now he is curled in his seat on the jet, metal hand holding his ribcage. He watches Steve scowl in the cockpit, jaw unflinchingly tight as he goes over the mission in his head. The captain doesn’t know how to let things go - never has, never will. Sam is actually piloting the quinjet, making unreturned small talk about a basketball game he went to last weekend. Natasha sits across from Bucky, a Stark tablet in her hands, dissecting bomb schematics and diagrams of diffusion techniques. There’s a little scab of dried blood on her bottom lip that she pokes at with her tongue, red brows lowered in concentration.

Bucky is exhausted - his hair smells like dust and smoke, his mouth is tangy and dry. There’s dried sweat underneath his uniform and he itches and his feet are hot in his boots and his ribs really fucking hurt. He lets his head fall back against the seat, and wishes they were home already.

**********

She pops her head up over the back of the couch when she hears them. What a sight they make: Bucky, propped up on Steve’s shoulder, Natasha dust-covered and buried in her tablet, Sam still sweaty and tugging at the harness on his suit. She still smiles, tentative but kind.

“Hi guys.” She lifts her fingers in a little wave. “Everyone okay?”

Bucky grunts in response; Natasha says nothing, making a beeline for her room and a shower. Sam, without doubt the most talkative person on the team, props himself on a stool and blows a harsh breath past his lips.

“We’re alright, yeah,” he sighed. “Barnes is a little beat up but he’ll get over it - he’s just dramatic.”

“Fuck you, too, Wilson.” Bucky flips Sam off over his shoulder as they hobble towards the elevators.

She winces, not yet used to their harsh banter.

“Hey man, be nice in front of the rookie, alright?” Sam hollers, mock-offended. “You’re creating a hostile work environment!”

Steve chuckles a little at that, jostling Bucky’s tender ribs, which makes him scowl at his best friend.

“Bucky is a hostile work environment,” Steve deadpans. They’ve reached the elevator, and shuffle inside, turning to face the common room. Bucky catches the rookie’s eyes as she giggles behind her hand.

“She’s fine,” he rolls his eyes, sparing a wink for the rookie. “When I make it hostile, bird brain, you’ll know.”

The elevator doors close, and he leans on Steve a little heavier, and jabs his elbow into Steve’s stomach.

“Thanks a lot for that, by the way,” he huffs.

“What?” Steve feigns innocence, and very poorly. “Didn’t know you were so worried about making a good impression on the rookie.”

“I’m - I’m not.”

“Uh huh.”

“Shut up.”

They meet Dr. Banner in the medical wing where his lab adjoins the clinic; Sam had messaged him half an hour ago that they were inbound with a broken supersoldier, and Bruce had taken the liberty of setting up some of his supplies. Of all the doctors on staff, Bucky favored Dr. Banner - he was mild and soft-spoken enough to not trigger Bucky’s anxiety, in spite of the needles and IV drips and the snapping of latex gloves.

An X-ray and some bandages later, Bucky is removed from the active duty list for two weeks.

“Even with your advanced healing factor, I wanna be careful with this,” Bruce says, taking off his glasses to scratch the side of his nose. “I mean, your medical history is a little blurry, to say the least - and with all the shit HYDRA pulled, who knows what kind of stress your bones have been through before.” He taps away on his tablet, notifying FRIDAY and the admin system to remove Bucky from the roster. “In the meantime, take it easy - no missions, no training, no lifting weights. Probably avoid the motorcycle, too. I’ll check on them again in two weeks, and we’ll go from there.”

Steve is nodding - he never leaves Bucky by himself in medical - and crosses his arms. Neither of them have changed out of their uniforms yet, and in this sterile observation room, Bucky can finally smell the layers of grime and sweat clinging to them. His nose wrinkles when he gets a little whiff of himself, feeling bad for the nurse who bandaged his ribs.

“Oh I almost forgot -” Bruce turns around and reaches for something on his lab bench. A little blue bottle, full of round white pills. “Here. I developed these for the two of you - since you metabolize normal painkillers so quickly, I figured we might need something that would work in the event you sustain heavy injuries which…well, seemed likely. Take 2 every 4 hours, okay?”

His metal fingers grip the little bottle, rattling the tablets inside.

“Sure thing, doc.”

**********

She lifts the hem of her shirt, wiping at the sweat on her forehead, and leans against the wall of the gym. Her breath comes in short pants as her chest heaves, trying to cool down from her last bout with Agent Romanoff.

“Heads up.”

Her hands barely make it up in time to catch the flying water bottle headed for her face.

“Good catch,” Romanoff smirks a little. She’s sweating, too, but in a way that’s decidedly more sexy, little red curls hanging by her face. She looks fresh from a Pilates class, not a suicide workout - the rookie can feel the heat of her own face, the sweat drenching her clothes, and knows she’s not nearly as glowing as her trainer.

“You did really good today,” Romanoff continues. She keeps saying to call her “Natasha” but that is so hard to do with a woman so intimidating her alias is one of the world’s deadliest animals. “Really good. You’ve shown tons of improvement since we started. I’m going to recommend we start letting you shadow on missions in a couple more weeks.”

“Wow, really?” Her face lit up in spite of her exhaustion.

“Sure.” Natasha smiles. “I know it’s gotten a little boring, having you go through all of this.”

“Boring” was an understatement. Despite having a few years of experience under her belt - well, according to Tony Stark, vigilantism barely counts as “experience” - the rookie was assigned to a training program for her first couple of months on the team.

“Too much of a risk to put you in the field right away,” Stark had rattled off, handing her forms to sign and an official t-shirt (‘Look Mom! I’m an Avenger!’) and a tablet with a map of the compound. “Legal says we can avoid liability issues with a training program before we gradually phase you in, and I’m inclined to agree, so! Welcome to the team, but not officially!”

Her days consisted of early morning workouts, followed by combat and tactical training with Black Widow herself, and then...well, not much. There was research, of course, and she stayed on top of the intelligence briefings with the rest of the team. She went to meetings and official dinners and unofficial karaoke nights, but the rest of her time was mostly her own. Frankly, she was chomping at the bit to get back out there, in the action. Helping people.

“Well, hopefully it’ll pay off,” she sighs, giving Agent Romanoff an exhausted smile. “I wouldn’t want to be the weak link on the team.”

“You won’t be, believe me,” Natasha shakes her head. With a glance at her watch, she picks up her own water bottle and heads for the door. “Now I’ve gotta run, Skype meeting with Fury in 5. I’ll see you later, Rookie!”

**********

Bucky Barnes was feeling good.

Like, damn good.

Like, ‘Banner should label his controlled substances’ good.

Thing is, post-HYDRA and post-fugitive and post-cognitive reconstruction therapy, Bucky was more mentally okay than he had been in decades. He had the occasional rough day, and he definitely wasn’t perfect by any means, but with the shrinks that Stark had on retainer, he was getting better at dealing with it all. His physical health, however, was more of a moving target. In spite of receiving a bastardized supersoldier serum, he had been pumped full of so much other shit and gone through so much physical stress that his body had fundamentally shifted equilibrium. Multiple appointments with Dr. Cho and Shuri revealed that his chronic pain may never fully heal - if it did, it would be a very gradual process. Normal painkillers in reasonable doses did nothing for him, so Bucky settled in to his discomfort, carrying it the way he carried his knives and his scars - always.

24 hours into his medical leave, a few doses of pills down, and he couldn’t feel a single ounce of pain in his body - he shifted his awareness to each part of himself, like that guided meditation thing Wanda did sometimes, and he couldn’t find the pain, not even lurking behind the muscle and metal. He might be a little miffed at being off the active duty roster, but if his whole vacation is going to feel like this? Well, he doesn’t mind to let Steve handle the next threat to world peace.

With his schedule suddenly wide open, Bucky wonders what he’ll do with his day. He can’t remember the last time he truly had nothing to do - it’s an exciting prospect. So he lets himself ease through his morning, sleeping in, long hot shower, slipping on those plush Black Widow pajama pants Nat gave him as a gag gift. He knows everyone else will have had their breakfast and moved on to morning briefings and training drills by now, and he wanders down to the kitchen in the hopes that they’ve left him some coffee.

He sees her there, perched on a stool at the island and frowning at the tablet in her hand. There’s a little scrunch to her nose when she does that, he notices.

“Good morning,” he says softly, trying and failing not to startle her.

“Oh, hey Bucky,” she smiles, watches him round the island to the coffee pot on the counter. “I didn’t see you there.”

“S’okay. I’m quiet.”

“You didn’t get tapped for the recovery mission? They’re going after your suspect from Berlin again, I think.”

“Oh, I’m off missions for two weeks.” He turns, giant ‘Don’t forget to be awesome’ mug gripped in his metal hand. “Banner’s orders. You didn’t hear about my smashed ribs?”

“Oh no, I guess not - are you okay?” Suddenly she’s concerned, and a little sheepish. “Sorry, I’m still a little out of the loop I guess.”

He feels guilty for that - she’s eager, bright, kind, a brilliant recruit. But it can take a while before you’re ‘in’ with the team. Not because they exclude her, but, well - a group made up of outsiders has a hard time adding new faces to the mix.

“Don’t apologize. Not your fault.” Bucky digs around in a jar on the counter for a few sugar packets, dumping them into his mug. “Anyways, I’m off the roster for now. Gotta figure out something to do with myself, I guess.”

Her smile is slow, ducked under pretty lashes - he really needs to stop noticing these things.

“Would you - I mean, you can hang out with me if you want?” She chews on her lip. “I’m done for today - my training with Natasha ended early and they didn’t need me in on the briefing so…”

The rookie was lonely - he could see that, anyone could. The fact is, between their own training and missions, it had been a little hard for the team to spend very much time with her. Bucky himself was often a bit of a loner in his free time, preferring to hole up in his room with books and movies rather than go out for drinks or another karaoke night. And yet, he found himself feeling eager at the thought of spending a relaxing day with the new recruit, getting to know her a little, hearing that funny little laugh through her nose.

“Sounds great, Rookie - what did ya have in mind?”

**********

“Okay, I just wanna go on the record and say I called it. I called it!” She’s grinning. “I knew you would love this.”

“Well, hey, in my defense, I’ve never hated beautiful women.”

She just rolls her eyes, kicks her feet out to rest on the coffee table in front of them. There’s a pile of DVD’s, all hers, laying across the surface, picked through and ranked in order of what was most important for Bucky to see. His film education was obviously lacking, considering he missed out on 70 years of movies, and didn’t even know what he liked anymore, so he was content to let her pick. After raiding the kitchen for an array of snacks, they settled in, opposite ends of the same couch with a bowl of popcorn and dark chocolate M&M’s between them.

Approximately 20 minutes into the movie, Steve appears, just passing through for an apple from the fridge. He stops in his tracks behind the couch, the crunch of the fruit in his mouth just above their heads.

“What is this?” he says around his mouthful. If his Ma could see him now, Bucky thinks.

“It’s called ‘How to Marry a Millionaire’ - came out in 1953,” she answers, smiling over her shoulder at him. “It’s one of my favorites honestly.”

“That’s - that’s Lauren Bacall!” Steve perks up, smacking Bucky’s shoulder.

“Yeah, punk,” Bucky rolls his eyes. “Betty Grable’s in it, too.”

“No shit!” Steve is grinning now, and he gives the rookie a conspiratorial look. “Y’know, Bucky used to have her pin-up poster. The one in the white bathing suit? Had it in his suitcase when he shipped out.”

“Oh, really?” She’s looking at him now, eyes sparkling at the rosy blush climbing up Bucky’s cheeks. “Betty Grable, huh?”

He clears his throat. “Well, everybody had that picture, I mean...it’s famous for a reason. All the boys had ‘em.”

“No, no, I get that,” she shrugs. “I just had you pegged as more the Rita Hayworth type, that’s all.”

It takes him back for a second, Steve too, that she knows these starlets, that they could’ve been having this same conversation 75 years ago. He can see that look in Steve’s eyes, sly and knowing as they slide towards him. Bucky works his mouth, tries to control his smile.

“Well, nothing wrong with her either,” he drawls, spreading his arms along the back of the couch. “But did you see Grable’s legs?”

“I just thought you might’ve had a thing for redheads!” she laughs.

“They’re alright, I guess - now Dugan on the other hand…”

Neither of them notices Steve leave the room, tossing the apple in his hand and a huge dopey grin on his face.

**********

“Tell me again what the recipe says?”

“One cup of pumpkin puree.”

“Oh - shit, I thought you said one can.”

She smacks her forehead. “No wonder the batter is so goopy!” She rolls her eyes playfully. “You’re trying to ruin my bread, Barnes.”

“I swear I’m not, doll - it was an accident.”

“Okay, new plan - we just make a double batch since the can has two cups in it.”

She shuffles around behind him, grabbing her flour and sugar and sour cream and other ingredients, hands flurrying to measure and fix the dough. It’s mid-afternoon now, a couple of movies down, and they (she) decided they needed to get in the fall spirit by baking a ridiculous amount of...breads. The banana bread is already in the oven, the pumpkin will be on its way as soon as she fixes his mistake, and a blueberry bread (made from muffin mix) is next on the list.

“But...what’s so special about making it into breads?” He had asked, causing her to look at him like an idiot.

“Ask me that again after you try them, Bucky.”

So he shut up and cracked eggs and sifted flour, stirring when her arm got tired. He was already regretting his words now that the smell of the banana bread was drifting towards him from the ovens, and he had to admit the pumpkin and cinnamon from her bowl was making his stomach growl. With all the bowls and measuring cups laying around, they were making enough sweet breads to feed an army, but hey - the Avengers are practically a small army of their own. And besides, Bucky intends on taking an entire loaf - baker’s privilege.

He decides that he likes watching her work, bouncing around the kitchen, some oldies playlist on the speakers, her tongue poking out between her lips. She’s got her sweater sleeves pushed up over her elbows - he had to help with that, after she got dough on them. This song is good, too, and he wants to ask her who wrote it-

“Are you gonna stand there staring at me, or are you gonna help?” she quips over her shoulder. He has no idea when he last smiled so much.

“You’re the boss, Rookie.”

**********

She’s got her feet in his lap now, and they haven’t said a word in an hour, and Bucky doesn’t even remember taking his last dose or two of his pain pills but he doesn’t feel a goddamn thing.

There’s a huge book in her lap, Stephen King - a favorite, he’s learned.

“I read at least one of his books every year in October,” she tells him. “You know, to get ready for spooky season.”

“Spooky season? What the hell is that?”

“You know, Halloween time!” she smacks his arm. “It’s Halloween first, Buck, you gotta get in the spirit.”

“I’m -” he sputters, face drawn in the most adorably confused look. “Halloween first?”

She hands him a book of his own and now here they are - he’s 20 pages into The Shining, but he’s stopped paying attention because she’s yawning behind her book and her eyes are fluttering shut, and it shouldn’t be as distracting as it is.

He forces his eyes down to his own page, to Jack Torrance and haunted hotels, but they’re drawn back up when her book finally drops the rest of the way to her lap. Her head slumps sideways onto the back of the couch, mouth open just a little. He draws the blanket down around her feet and tucks it in a little tighter, but other than that, doesn’t move a muscle. He’s just fine right here, thank you.

He’s sinking in again, driving up the twisting mountain road to the Overlook, when his phone buzzes in his pocket. Carefully - in the way highly trained superspies can be careful - he lifts his hips up and pulls his phone from his pocket, managing not to dislodge her feet or wake her up. She merely sighs in her sleep, nuzzling her face into the couch pillow. A text notification from team group message lights up the screen.

It’s Natasha. A photo, a photo which she somehow managed to take without him knowing, of him and the rookie, practically snuggling on the couch and reading together. Her legs are propped over his lap, and Bucky’s eyes are staring straight at her over the top of his book. Nat has captioned the photo: “looks like Barnes found a good nurse.”

He snorts a little. Natalia. Glances up at her, still sleeping, and tilts his phone upwards a few degrees and snaps a picture to send back.

“She sleeps on the job” he types, thumbs still slow on the phone keyboard. Instantly, his phone starts buzzing with more texts from the team, but he mutes it and lays his phone on the coffee table. He doesn’t feel like talking now. Well, talking to them.

“Hey...Rookie,” he whispers, reaching out and shaking her shoulder a little. She hums in her sleep, but makes no other move.

“Rookie, I gotta ask you something.” He wiggles her leg a little, shaking her feet in his lap, and whispers her name. He’s rewarded with her eyes fluttering open, her mouth drawn down in a pout at being woken up.

“Whatisit,” she sighs, still slumped into the cushions. He clears his throat. Here goes nothing.

“So, there’s a charity gala for the Stark Foundation coming up next weekend,” he starts bravely. “And - and the whole team is going anyway, so I know you’re gonna be there, but - well, maybe you would consider going...with me?” Courage runs out, and his brain backpedals. “I mean, just as a friend?”

She huffs. “I can’t believe you woke me up for that.”

“Oh.” He looks down, hair falling in his eyes. “So...you don’t want to go with me?”

“Of course I’ll go with you, Barnes,” she sighs. “Now shush. I was napping”

His face hurts from the stretch in his cheeks when he smiles. He’s gonna give Bruce those pain meds back.

#nachobuckychallenge #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader fic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes imagine #marvel #marvel fic

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slapshot-to-the-heart · 4 years ago

Text

Flatbush & Atlantic: part ix

part i part ii part iii part iv part v part vi part vii part viii

And here we’ve got part ix! This will be the second-to-last part of the series, I’ve got some thoughts also running around for a possible epilogue if that’s something anyone would be interested in reading. As always, there’s literally nothing writers love more than hearing from you all, so don’t be afraid to come and tell me what you think - my inbox is open, comment on the post, reblog with your thoughts!

part ix

April 27 (tues)

Mat’s mind was racing. If he was honest, he hadn’t been able to concentrate worth a damn since Cass had dropped the news about her job offer. Hong Kong? He knew she was brilliant, knew that her skills could and should take her anywhere in the world she wanted to go; the thought that she might leave New York, leave him, was still terrifying. Becoming more worried by the minute, he pulled out his phone, dialing the first person he could think of that might be able to help.

Tito answered on the first ring. “Hello?”

“Hey, Tito. What’s up?” Mat asked nervously.

“What’s wrong, Mat?” He immediately asked. Mat cursed under his breath; even over the phone, Beau was always able to read him like a book.

Mat grimaced. “That obvious, huh?”

“Mat, we see each other pretty much every day. Not to be a jerk or something, but you don’t really call me unless something’s wrong. What is it? Did you and Cass have a fight?” Mat could imagine him crossing his arms on the other end.

“Not exactly,” he said, scratching his head as he wandered aimlessly around the park. “She got this job offer, and it sounds like a really exciting opportunity, but…” He trailed off.

“But?”

“It’s all the way in Asia. It’s in Hong Kong.”

Tito sucked in a breath. “Oh, wow. That’s a big one. Big move. Has she said if she’s going to take it?”

“Not really, she hasn’t decided.” Mat shook his head, not realizing Tito wouldn’t be able to see. “We talked through it a little, they’re offering a really good starting salary and she likes the company values, but it’s such a huge jump that she’s not ready to make the call yet.”

“Did you talk about what it would mean for you as a couple?”

“A little, though not as much as we probably should have,” Mat admitted. “Neither of us would want to break it off just because it would be long distance, but logistically it would just be a nightmare. It’s something like a 15 hour flight from New York, so it’s not like either of us would ever be able to make that more than once or twice a year. Did you know that it’s a twelve hour time difference from here?”

“No,” Tito said, “and it’s obviously not like I know exactly what you’re going through. Paige is a kindergarten teacher, so it’s not exactly like her job would suddenly pick up and move to another country. But it’s obviously a different story with me.”

As distracted as he was, Mat felt compelled to respond. “You know they’re going to resign you, right? It would be a terrible move for them if they didn’t.”

“Yeah, I mean that’s what I’ve figured,” Beau responded. “And my agent told me to expect negotiations to start in the next month or so, but still. I could be sent to Winnipeg or Phoenix or Vancouver pretty much without notice, and I wouldn’t want to ask her to just pick up her whole life and follow me. So, I get the feeling.” He paused for a moment. “How do you feel about it?”

“Mixed feelings,” Mat answered honestly. “I’d never want to hold her back from anything, that’s not the kind of person I am and it’d be a dick move regardless. She’s her own person and deserves to be able to make her own decisions. And I would never want her to grow to resent me if she decided to stay for my sake. That would almost be worse. I just..I really love her, Tito, and I would hate for us to never be able to see eachother because of her job. Or worse, for this to mean the end of us because the distance was too hard to deal with.”

It took Tito a minute to respond. “I know you love her, Mat. It’s pretty obvious. You look at her like she hung the moon. But if they all say that things will work out if you love each other and talk it through, then what are you so worried about?”

Mat took a deep breath before answering, trying to gather his thoughts as best he could. When he spoke, his voice wavered. “Because I’ve never been this gone for a girl, Tito. What Cass and I have...I don’t even know how to describe it. I’d stop the Earth turning if it made her happy. It’s just...she’s it for me. I’m done looking. And the idea that I could be 13,000 kilometers away from her isn’t even something I had considered. I wouldn’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do.”

“Wow. That’s...that’s big, Mat. You serious?”

“As a heart attack,” he replied.

“When do they need to hear back by?” Tito asked.

Mat looked down at his watch, checking the time. “Not for a few weeks. She’s got some time to decide, which is almost worst.”

Tito hummed sympathetically. “Just talk it through. I can’t pretend like I know what’s going to happen, but I have faith in you. It’s going to work out.”

“I hope so.”

May 13 (thurs)

It was nine days before Cass graduated, and if she was being honest, her time may have objectively been better spent studying for her finals, the first of which was Monday. But this was Mat, and this was the Stanley Cup Playoffs, and she supposed that her studies could wait for a night while she spent her evening at Barclays. It was Game 5 of the Eastern Conference final, and there was no way she was going to miss her team’s chance at the Wales trophy. The tone in the arena was tense from the moment she stepped in; ever the optimist, Cass liked the Islanders’ chances, but the fact remained that they were down 3-1 in the series after a 4-0 rout by the Lightning in Game 4. The series had started off with forward momentum after winning the first game at home, but the three-game losing streak had done little for the fans’ hopes and even less for the team’s morale.

The only bright spot, if she could call it that, was Mat’s return to the ice. He knew as well as anything that the recovery time was for his own good, but he wasn’t made to be cooped up in his apartment for nearly two weeks straight, save only doctor’s appointments and short trips to the complex gym. Per his usual dramatic fashion, Mat had been cleared in time for Game 7 of the second round, returning to raucous cheers and scoring two goals in the eventual 4-2 win over the Capitals. She had caught up enough on her work to be able to make the game, and it was one of the great joys of her life to be up in a box surrounded by her friends when the love of her life scored the goal that sent the Islanders to the conference finals for the first time in nearly thirty years.

That kind of a dramatic win had made the losing streak that much harder. Game sevens are always exciting, especially with someone coming back off of injured reserve. While the win hadn’t made the team cocky by any means, the confidence had carried over into something more closely resembling complacency. They won Game 7, they won the first of the next series, so some of the team — mostly the younger players who hadn’t yet cut their teeth in the league — had made the mistake of assuming that the rest of the round would be smooth sailing. They should have known better, Cass thought ruefully as the Lightning scored two minutes before the first intermission to even the score at 1-1. Why couldn’t this be the round before, filled with confidence and coordination and laser-focused passing on every line? Why couldn’t it have been the celebration after?

---

May 3 (tues)

Winning a game sometimes called for going out. Winning a series almost definitely called for going out. And winning a series in Game 7 that sent your team to the conference finals for the first time in recent memory called for going out, and going out hard. As much as Cass would have loved to get as hammered as the rest of the group, especially considering the stress she was under with finals and graduation and her job offer piling up, they didn’t want a repeat of the afterparty from the All-Star Game, and Cass still had school the next day. So, she had committed to limiting herself to three drinks. “I want to be tipsy, not shitfaced,” she had explained to Paige on the drive over. Tito had driven his car over, Paige volunteering to DD so the boys could let loose and everyone could let off some much-needed steam.

Someone had already opened up a tab for everyone by the time their car had gotten there, and it wasn’t ten minutes before they had claimed a few couches in the corner and Cass had a caipirinha in her hand. She was a little worried that Mat’s tolerance had tanked in the past few weeks; he hadn’t really drank since before the concussion and it was their first time at a bar in a few weeks regardless. Mat noticed her nervous glances out of the corner of his eye. “I’m fine,” he reassured her. “I specifically asked the doctors if I was good to drink at my last appointment and they said I was in the clear.”

Cass giggled, sipping her drink. “You asked your doctors if you could drink alcohol?”

“What can I say?” Mat shrugged. “I wanted to go out and get lit with friends, can you blame me?”

Cass’ giggles had evolved into full-on belly laughs. “Lit? What are you, sixteen?”

Mat’s cheeks reddened in what was probably a combination of alcohol and embarrassment. “My cousin said it once.”

Cass headed back over to the bar a few minutes later for another drink, leaving the boys to talk amongst themselves with the occasional interruption from an excited fan. On a high from the win, the team were more than happy to take photos and have quick chats with anyone who stopped them, and thankfully weren’t mobbed by the crowd inside the bar. For the most part, Cass and her relationship with Mat had been able to fly under the radar — well, as much as she could being Mat Barzal’s other half. Her Instagram hadn’t been private since college, and while a fair few fans and fanpages followed her, it had all remained mercifully low-key. Waiting at the bar, she resigned herself to scroll through Twitter for a few minutes, knowing it would be a little while before the bartender got to her.

“Are you Cassidy Shaw?” Cass’ head turned slowly towards her right, where a short blonde girl looked at her with a shocked expression.

“Cabrera Shaw, but yes?” She answered slowly.

“Sorry!” The girl apologized, “I didn’t mean to be weird or anything. I follow you on Instagram, it’s just so weird to finally see you in person.” Cass gave a nervous laugh. She had fans? On Instagram? Who were excited if they met her in real life?

“One Southside and whatever your favorite IPA on tap is, please,” Cass said to the bartender who had just leaned over the counter to get her order. “Thank you? You’re welcome?” Cass smiled awkwardly.

“I just wanted to say that I think it’s super cool how you’re not a typical WAG or anything. My name’s Sierra, I’m a junior at St. John’s. I’m applying for law school next year. It’s just, like, awesome to see a woman being successful in her own right apart from her partner, especially when they’re in such a visible position and it’s not what’s expected of them. I’m sorry — I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

Cass laughed, a genuine one this time. “No, you’re totally good. Don’t worry. That’s really sweet of you to say, thanks a lot!” She sipped the Southside the bartender had just handed her, sliding Mat’s beer over. “Yeah, I have so much respect for the other women who choose to do more philanthropic work or be stay-at-home moms, but that’s not what I feel pulled to. Right now, at least.”

“Right, totally,” Julia said, grabbing what looked like a rum and coke from the other bartender. “Anyways, I should let you get back to the celebration. Tell the team congratulations, it was a great game to watch!”

Cass picked up the other glass, nodding. “I will. Thank you for your kind words, that was sweet of you to say.”

“Anytime!” Julia chirped happily.

Cass walked carefully back over to the group, keeping an eye on the drinks. She handed Mat’s beer to him. He looked up curiously, taking a sip. “Something hold you up at the bar?”

She shook her head, then nodded, then shook it again. “Kind of? I think I just had my first fan encounter.”

He laughed, leaning over to plant a kiss on her cheek. “Comes with the territory, babe.”

---

The game was scoreless through the second period, which didn’t help the tension in the stadium or Cass’ blood pressure. She and Paige had decided to get actual seats for the game, which Mat and Tito were more than happy to arrange. The Islanders were doing well through the first half of the third period, other than a little bit of messy passing the lines were good. But good wasn’t good enough sometimes, good wasn’t close enough to score and give them the lead. Cass’ heart sank as soon as one of the defensemen, she wasn’t sure who, made a turnover in the neutral zone to give the Lightning the puck. Kucherov picked it off, skating past the defenders and around the goal while the rest of the line nearly tripped over themselves trying to skate back in time.

She was on the edge of her seat as he wrapped around the goal, silently praying that Varlamov would somehow be able to get a piece of the puck with his blocker or that it would have one of those one-in-a-million deflections off of the post. You could hear a pin drop in the stadium as everyone waited for the shot; tall of the sudden, time seemed to move like molasses. And then the puck went in, the red light went on, and the scattered sections of blue-and-white clad Lightning fans threw their arms up in celebration.

Cass allowed herself exactly ten seconds to hold her head in her hands. There was still seven minutes, thirty nine seconds left. There was still time. Then there was five minutes, forty-two seconds left, and Maroon got two minutes for tripping, and that was their chance. That was supposed to be their chance. But then the penalty came and went, and it was three minutes left. Two minutes left. They pulled Varlamov at one minutes fifty-eight seconds left, and then it was the last shift. Forty-nine seconds left, and it was time for a Hail Mary. Out of habit, Cass’s lips began moving in the prayer. Hail Mary, full of grace...It was a holdover from her lacrosse days, when they were down in the last quarter with seemingly no hope in sight. It didn’t always work, but it sometimes did. It didn’t work that night. It didn’t work because the clock ticked down to zero, the score was still 2-1, and the Islanders had lost. They were out of the playoffs. Fans began shuffling out of the rink, shoulders slumped and heads down, as Cass bit her lip and tried not to cry. The team had worked so hard for this. God, they had worked so hard. And if she was taking it this badly, if it was affecting her this much, then she couldn’t even begin to imagine what it was like for the guys on the team.

Paige turned to her after a few minutes, when there were only a handful of people still left in their seats and the Zambonis had come out to resurface the ice one last time. “We should probably get down there, do you think?” She asked softly. Cass nodded. She was referring to the tunnel, outside the locker room where everyone usually got to greet their partners with kisses and hugs and words of congratulations, but where the mood would be profoundly different on that night. Cass grabbed her bag and straightened out her jersey, squeezing Paige’s hand. Neither of them really knew what the environment was going to be like after such a devastating knockout; Paige had started dating Anthony the summer before, and Cass obviously had even less experience. They had dealt with losses, they had dealt with disappointments and losing streaks and points droughts, but this was something new entirely.

They rode the elevator in silence before walking down the corridors to the room, where the rest of the WAGs and other family had congregated. Kerry rubbed her shoulder sympathetically as Lauren walked over. “We in the Islanders family have a lot of experience with getting knocked out of the playoffs,” she said with a weak smile, trying to crack a joke, “so here is how it usually goes. The guys should be coming out in a few, it takes longer than usual because the media typically has some end-of-the-season wrapup questions and Trotz and Anders will probably make speeches or say something. Some others might too.” The two women nodded. “Don’t treat it like just another loss, but it’s also no good to hover too much. It’s obviously a real disappointment, so it usually takes a week or so before most of them bounce back to being their normal selves. They know what coping mechanisms work best for them. Most will hit the gym more, read or cook if they’re into that, something to get their mind off of it. Obviously they’re still players and still want to know how they can get better, so they might want to go over tapes of the games and make notes of where they went wrong. That’s fine, but don’t let them beat themselves up about it too much. This was a hard series, and Mat especially,” she gestured towards Cass, “tends to be more than a little bit of a perfectionist.”

“I’ve noticed,” Cass said.

“One last thing,” she continued. “Let them process, let them cope, but a loss not an excuse for them to treat you any worse, any less kindly. Be understanding, of course. But don’t take any crap from them, regardless of the circumstance.”

“Thank you,” Paige said gratefully. Cass echoed her sentiment. The next ten minutes were filled with checking emails and making half-hearted conversation before the team started to trail out of the room. Embracing their partners and families, most couples exchanged no more than a few words before turning down the hall that led to the players’ parking lot. Paige left with a squeeze to her shoulder and a promise to get coffee the next week before grabbing Tito’s hand and guiding him towards the cars.

Unsurprisingly, Mat followed right behind. He hadn’t combed his hair after his shower, the top button of his dress shirt was undone and only haphazardly tucked into his pants. Mat had been on the shift when Kucherov scored, and if there was anything she knew about her boyfriend, it was that he’d take it personally. He dropped his bag on the ground as she embraced him, and the thud against the concrete floor felt as if it could echo all the way across the Long Island Sound.

“I’m so proud of you, Mat. So, so proud. I know this didn’t end how you wanted it to, but you worked so fucking hard to get here, and that’s what I see. That’s all I see,” she whispered.

Mat wasn’t crying, but his breathing was labored nonetheless. “I just feel...I feel like I let everyone down. I wasn’t supposed to be that far up on the ice, and if I hadn’t, maybe I would have gotten back in time to steal the puck, or check him or something, or…” He trailed off.

Cass sighed. “I know, chou, I know how you feel. But just try to remember that this is a team sport. You win with the boys, you lose with the boys. Do you get mad at Tito when he makes a bad play? Or Jordan, or Anders?” Mat shook his head. “It’s the same way with you. They don’t stop being proud of you or think you’re any less of an incredible player because you made a bad decision. Bad decisions get made all the time, and it doesn’t have to reflect on the person who made them. It’s a hard game, love, but you did your best and that’s all anyone ever has a right to ask of you.”

Mat’s thumb rubbed against the small of her back. “I know I’ll be fine, eventually. I mean, we’ve all dealt with this before. It just seems different this time, because we were so close to actually making the finals. It seems kind of silly to say since I know I’m only 23 and I know I’ve got so much time left to play, but,” he took a shaky breath, “I look at all the veterans, all the amazing players whose entire careers have gone by without ever having gotten the Cup. Lundqvist and Thornton and Marleau and all of these legends. And it sounds kind of selfish and naive, but I don’t want to be one of them.”

They stood like that for a few more minutes, just holding each other, before either spoke again. “Do you want me to stay with you tonight?” Cass murmured to Mat as she carded her hands through his hair. She felt a tiny, almost imperceptible nod against her shoulder. Her bag had her laptop, books, and chargers. She had a whole drawer in Mat’s room by then, a combination of stray shirts that were his-turned-hers, a few pairs of leggings — they took up an entire drawer of their own back at her apartment — and balled-up socks from her one unsuccessful attempt at doing the laundry in his building. She had a spare box of tampons in his bathroom, her floral shampoo next to his 2-in-1 Old Spice. No matter how hard she pushed, Mat remained oblivious to the benefits of having separate shampoo and conditioner.

He pulled away, reaching into his pocket and handing over his keys. “Do you mind driving?”

She shook her head. “Not at all. Whatever you need.”

The ride back home was about forty minutes, and it was almost halfway through before either of them spoke, the lull of the 80s rock channel filling in the silence. “Where’s your head at, Mat?” She asked carefully.

He was looking out the window, distracted. “Hm?”

She repeated the question and he tensed slightly, leaning back into the passenger seat. “Just feeling kind of...confused about the whole thing. Seems like I’m being pulled in a thousand different directions one day, but then all of the sudden something like this happens and I’ve got nothing. It’s overwhelming. I know I have a life outside of hockey, I know it’s not all of who I am, but sometimes it seems hard to believe that when it seems like that’s all I’m recognized for.” Keeping one hand on the wheel, Cass reached over to cover his hand with her own. His fingers held onto hers like a lifeline.

“You’re right, you know?” She said as they passed into the Queens-Midtown tunnel.

“About?”

“Being so much more than people perceive you to be. I get that, it’s like that for me too sometimes. And Mat, you are so much more than ‘just a hockey player.’ You’re a good son and an amazing brother to Liana, and an awesome friend to Tito and the guys on the team and everyone back home. And,” she added, cracking a smile, “you’re a pretty good boyfriend too.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “Just pretty good?”

“I didn’t want to fluff your ego too much,” Cass said. “But seriously, Mat. You’re incredible entirely on your own merit. You care so deeply for the people in your life and you love so hard, and it’s an honor and a privilege to be able to witness that firsthand.”

Mat bent down to the center console, brushing a kiss over her hand. “How do you do it?”

Now it was her turn to question. “Do what?”

“Always know the right thing to say.”

“I don’t,” Cass admitted. “And sometimes I get it wrong. But I know I love you, and I don’t want to see you hurting if there’s anything I can do about it.” The car exited the tunnel into the dotted lights of a Manhattan evening.

“Well,” he cleared his throat, “if there was an Oscar for pep talks, I’d have to give it to you, hands down. No offense to any of the guys on the team.”

She laughed, stopping at the light. Right on red wasn’t legal in New York City, a rule she found out the hard way two months after moving. “I’m glad it helps.”

“It does,” Mat said softly. “It means the world to me that you care enough to do it. You mean the world to me.”

Her cheeks heated. “You sure know how to flatter a girl, eh, Barzal?”

“I meant every word.”

---

May 20 (thurs)

She was done. After three years, six semesters, dozens of classes, and hundreds of hours studying, Cass had just finished her last final of law school. Her classmates stumbled out of the lecture hall, not entirely believing that all of their tears and heartache and hard work had come to a head in such an anticlimactic fashion. Turning on her heel, she walked south. It was just before seven, and her friends had a group reservation at some ridiculously extravagant French wine bar. It was Les’ idea, who had a penchant for all things expensive and who had made the reservation months prior because “you never know, John Mayer could book the whole place up and as much as I love dollar slices, we don’t want that to be our only option for what’s supposed to be a very prestigious celebratory dinner.” Les, Fiona, and Samaira were coming, along with Daniel, another editor on the law review, and Robin, one of Cass’ friends from first-year criminal law and the president of the Women’s Law Association. She had initially been wary about inviting Mat; it wasn’t that she didn’t think he’d get along with her law school friends, but she didn’t want him to feel out of the loop. After Les had announced that he was bringing his boyfriend, Xavier, Cass had extended the invite to Mat as well.

It was only a ten minute walk, and the hostess directed Cass to their table, where she realized that she was the last one to arrive. “Don’t worry,” Robin said, “we’ve just been interrogating your man.”

Cass scooted in next to Mat, kissing him quickly before rolling her eyes. “I hope you haven’t been too hard on him.”

Mat smiled. “Nah, they’ve been good. But being questioned by six lawyers who all seem very adamant that I don’t deserve you —”

“You don’t,” Samaira cut in, though it was clear she was joking.

“Was more than a little intimidating,” Mat finished, handing Cass the menu.

“Order whatever you want, I’m paying,” Daniel said as he flicked through the wine menu. “Well, technically, my parents are.” Daniel came from money; his mom was a partner at a firm in Chicago and his dad was a law professor at the University of Chicago. “If they’re going to insist on sending me to law school and sheltering me my whole life, the least I could do is take advantage of their generosity,” Daniel said, plunking his credit card onto the table. Fifteen minutes later, the group was sharing plates of escargots, crab tartine, and roasted cauliflower; twenty minutes after that, entrées were served. Mat had recognized the waitress’ accent and was chatting to her in French in between plates. Cass sipped on her wine, a pinot noir, and took a moment to look around the room, a moment to relax. Two more days, and she graduated. Everything that she had worked so hard for was finally coming to fruition. She still had to pass the bar in July, sure, but for one night — for a few days, really — she was going to let herself finally rest in the ability of her accomplishments.

Dessert was maple bourbon crème brûlée with Sauternes, and Mat may have had a little too much fun breaking the caramelized sugar. Cass was full of good food and conversation; after everyone was done it was after nine. Les, Daniel, and Xavier had decided to get drinks, but Robin had barely slept at all that week, Samaira was going to watch a movie at her boyfriend’s, and Cass and Mat had to wake up early to get her grandparents from the airport. Mat took her hand as they walked towards the subway station. He had parked a few blocks away and offered to drive Cass back to her apartment, but she didn’t want him to go out of his way and all things considered, taking the subway at night had become something of a routine for her.

They walked down Manhattan Avenue, resting in the kind of comfortable silence that only came with being with someone who really gets you. Cass had decided not to take the Hong Kong job the week prior. It was just too much distance from her family and Mat, and while the job seemed interesting enough, it wasn’t the kind of position she thought she could really be happy in long-term. “Have you figured out what you’re doing yet?” Mat asked as they turned the corner. “I’d say you should just move in with me and become a full-time housewife, but something’s telling me that’s not exactly the kind of opportunity you’re searching for.”

Cass laughed, bumping him with her shoulder. “Tempting offer, the housewife thing, but I think I’m going to have to pass. Plus that would necessitate you wifing me up.”

Mat kissed her head. “All in due time, pretty girl.” “But anyways, about the job search.” Cass said, a smile playing on her lips. “I was going to wait until graduation to surprise you, but since you asked…” She paused for dramatic effect. “Chris offered me a job. Permanently.”

Mat stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. “Chris? Like Islanders Chris? Lawyer Chris?”

She giggled. “Yes. Islanders lawyer Chris. You’re looking at the new Associate Counsel for the New York Islanders, Mat.” Mat damn near hollered in celebration, picking Cass up and spinning her around before pulling her into what was very possibly one of the best kisses of her life. Cass barely took notice of the tourists watching them from the side or her own public display of affection. It was New York City. They had seen weirder.

It felt like a weight had been lifted off of Mat’s chest. He was being honest when he said that he wouldn’t have done anything to get Cass to stay, it just wasn’t his place. But he also would have been lying if he had said it would be anything but heartbreaking to see her leave. It was like he told Tito. Not even giving the future a chance to work itself out would be worse than a breakup. And with any luck, they’d never have one of those either. They rounded the last corner, steps down to the subway in sight, when Mat remembered what he had wanted to ask her but had been interrupted by her news. Her incredible, perfect news. “What would you think about spending some time in Canada this summer?”

Cass, seemingly oblivious, answered, “Oh? Like as a vacation?”

He shook his head. “No, like in Coquitlam with my family.”

“You want me to spend the summer with you and your family?” Cass asked, eyes wide.

“Yeah, only if you want to, of course. And I’m not sure when the job with the team starts, or…” He looked down.

Cass smiled. “I’d love to, but are you sure it isn’t too much? I don’t want to feel like I’m intruding on family time, I know you don’t get a lot of time with them since you’re here most of the year. I don’t want you to feel like you’re obligated to bring me around just because we’re together.”

They stopped by a lamp. Cass leaned up against the post. “Cass. My parents have made it very clear to me that you’re family, and that they’ll have my head if I’m ever dumb enough to let you go.” She snickered. “Just so we’re clear, I don’t intend on ever letting that happen. My family loves you, my sister thinks you’re way cooler than me.”

“She’s got good taste,” Cass said, tilting her head.

Mat laughed. “She does. She told me you guys were texting the other day about the guy she’s interested in, giving her advice. Sure, it was my idea to invite you, but they were so on board from the moment I mentioned it. Plus, my friends back home are getting annoyed with me because they haven’t met you yet with how often I talk about you.”

She bit her lip. “How long were you thinking of staying?”

Mat shrugged. “Leave in a couple weeks, I usually stay two months or so, so until sometime in August?”

“I’d have to fly back to take the bar in July, and I’d still need some time to study while we’re over, but my contract doesn’t start until the end of August, so…”

“You’ll come?” Mat smiled hopefully.

She nodded. “I’ll come. I’ve never been to Canada before, did you know that?”

He shook his head, leaning in and brushing a kiss on her hairline. “You’re going to love it.”

#hockey imagines #nhl imagines #hockey smut #nhl smut #mat barzal #hockey #hockey writing #hockey imagine #nhl #nhl imagine #nhl writing #mathew barzal #mat barzal imagine #mat barzal imagines #New York Islanders

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boywizardscanbecute · 4 years ago

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Inseparable Part IV

Hey guys here’s a present for yall! Part 4/5 of Inseparable!!! I’m a sucker for Harry Potter x Reader and long fics so those of you that know me know I had to write this. Enjoy!!! Part 5 I hope to finish in the next month. Let me know if you have any requests or want to be tagged in future stories!

LOVE YOU GUYS

Find parts I-III Here: https://boywizardscanbecute.tumblr.com/post/619112671437111297/inseparable-parts-i-iii

Part IV

Dumbledore arrived at 9 am sharply. “Good morning professor,” you say cheerily. He smiles with a twinkle in his eye, “And a good morning to you too Ms. l/n. Tell me, are you ready to depart?” You nod. Dumbledore offers an arm to each of you, but before disapparating he adds, “Y/n you will be going to the burrow. Harry, I have someone I would like you to meet first. Then you will join her at the burrow.” Harry nods, and then looks to you. Dumbledore, averts his gaze. The man was one of the brightest wizards known to live, he surely felt the chemistry between the two of you. Nevertheless, you keep things low key. “Harry,” you squeeze his hand, “Please be careful.” He nods, and plants a swift kiss on top of your head. When you’re finished, Dumbledore takes each of your hands and disapparates. When you reappear, you stand alone in the Weasley’s kitchen. Dumbledore and Harry gone.

You’re only left to your thoughts for a single moment before a smiling figure welcomes you into their arms. “Y/n darling! Dumbledore told me you’d be coming today. Your trunk already arrived along with Harry’s trunk and Hedwig. Almost time for a spot of breakfast make yourself comfortable dear,” Mrs. Weasley fawns over you. Instead of busying herself in the kitchen however, she sits across from you. And you could sense what she was about to ask. “Are you okay dear? Ron told me about everything. I know you’re the only one Harry will talk to, but I don’t want you to feel burdened.” You feel a rush of gratitude at her concern. Faking a smile you respond, “I’ll be okay Mrs. Weasley. Harry needs me and I need to be there for him.” She reaches across the table, grabbing your hand. “Y/n,” she urges, “You are just a child. It’s not fair for you to take on being someone’s emotional guardian like that.” A response forms on your lips, “But Mrs. Weasley, wouldn’t you do the same for Mr. Weasley?” She smiles, “Of course I would dear, but he’s my husband. You’re still so young.” She did have a point. But Harry wasn’t just anyone. “Yes he is Mrs. Weasley. And to be completely honest with you I feel the same future approaching for Harry and I. No one makes me happier than him and I really couldn’t imagine my life without him,” you beam. She returns your look, “Inspired words. I just want you to be safe.” Squeezing Mrs. Weasley’s hand you reply, “Always will be.” Then she busies herself cleaning and cooking. As soon as you befriended Ron, Mrs. Weasley became the mother in your life. And you would do anything for her. You were lucky she thought of you as her child.

Pacing around the living room, you waited for Harry to return from wherever he was going with Dumbledore. You knew Dumbledore would protect him but it didn’t stop the worry you felt. It is still very early in the morning, Ron was sleeping upstairs. Instead it was Ginny who came down the stairs. “Alright there y/n?” she called out to you. Turning, you plaster a fake grin on your lips. “Fine Ginny, just waiting for Harry to get here.” She saw through your fake smile, but decided not to press the issue. She continued to wander into the kitchen. It’d been nearly 2 hours since you got here. You decide to distract yourself with food when you hear a loud crack from outside. The unmistakable sound of apparating. Sprinting out the door, you see Harry standing in the grass. “Harry!” you shriek. His arms don’t have time to catch you and he topples over as your body crashes into his, the air rushing out of his chest. Lifting yourself off of him slightly, you look down and study him. “Are you okay?” you giggle. He grunts, “Yea just surprised at being knocked over.” Immediately you get off of him and help him up. There’s a call for breakfast from inside and you’re about to go in, but decide to follow your impulses. Turning around, you cup Harry’s cheek and give him a long, lingering kiss. When you pull back, he stands there stunned into silence. “Come on,” you laugh. Taking his hand, you drag him back into the Weasley kitchen where a delicious breakfast awaits.

Summer at the Weasley’s was the most relaxed you’d felt in ages. Today you’d decided to go to Fred and George’s joke shop along with Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. The shop was a marvel, a beacon of light in the now dimly lit shops of Diagon Alley. Fred and George had really found their calling. The day was fantastic, that is until Harry caught sight of a familiar platinum blonde haired boy headed for Diagon Alley. Harry burst out the door after him. “Harry where are you going?” you call after him. Ron and Hermione look to you. You shake your head, not knowing where Harry was going, but you follow him, with Ron and Hermione on your tail. Harry watched Draco turn the corner and made a decision. He began to scale the building across from Fred and George’s, climbing onto the roof. “Harry Potter you get down from there! You’re going to hurt yourself!” Hermione and you both yell at the same time. But he doesn’t listen. “Merlin’s beard,” you curse under your breath. Grabbing hold of the gutter, you climb up following him. “Hang on, he doesn’t answer so you’re just going to follow him?” Ron asks bewilderedly. Ignoring him, you lay yourself next to Harry on the roof and follow his gaze. “Harry, what are we looking for,” you hiss. Not taking his eyes off Draco in Bourgon and Burke’s he replies, “Malfoy looks an awful lot like someone who doesn’t want to be followed. And now he’s in there, see he’s talking to his mother and Bellatrix Lestrange.” You gasp, Bellatrix Lestrange did indeed stand in plain sight in the main attraction of Knockturn Alley. Soon Hermione and Ron crawled up next to you. “What do you think they’re talking about?” Ron asks, already knowing why Harry was watching them. “Dunno,” Harry replies, “But they seem pretty interested in that cabinet.” Hermione squints at said cabinet. “I’ve never seen anything like it,” she murmurs. If Hermione hadn’t heard of it, that meant it had to be rare. So the four of you watched Draco’s interaction until he left. It was hard to pull Harry away. “Harry, come on. There’s nothing else happening,” you pull his arm. Reluctantly, he goes. Meeting back in the shop, you return to the burrow with your friends and an extremely agitated Harry.

Today was no different. The Hogwarts Express chugged along the countryside and Harry sat next to you, aggressively chewing on his finger nails. “I’ve got to do something. I’ll be back,” he suddenly rose and left the compartment without a second glance. Ron looks at you. “Don’t look at me,” you say aloud, “He’s been acting weird all morning.” “But why?” Hermione asks. You groan, “I’m not sure. But I have a hunch.” Hermione doesn’t inquire further.

Around lunchtime Luna and Ginny join you in the compartment. It somewhat takes your mind off of your missing best friend. But as the sky grows dim and you get closer to the castle, you shift in your seat. Pulling into the platform Hermione announces hopefully, “Maybe Harry’s already gotten off of the train.” You return her smile, “Maybe. But I’m gonna hang back just to make sure. See you guys at dinner.” They reluctantly nod. Ginny follows and it’s Luna who announces, “I’ll keep you company and help you look.” “Thanks Luna,” you reply thoughtfully Once everyone exits the train you begin to walk the aisle. “Harry?” you call tentatively. No answer. Luna slips into the other cart and continues searching. “Harry? Are you here?” you call out again. Silence echoes around you. Another minute of searching and a sing song voice calls from the next car over, “I’ve found him!” You rush towards Luna’s voice. She stands over Harry laying in the middle of the aisle with a clearly broken nose. “Oh Harry,” you sigh once you realize he isn’t seriously harmed. You and Luna each take a hand and pull him to his feet. Walking out onto the platform Luna briefly stops, stepping in front of Harry. “I can fix that for you,” she states. “That’d be great thank you Luna,” he replies, lowering his sleeve from his bleeding nose. Raising her wand Luna exclaims, “Episky.” Bones crunch as Harry’s nose is put back in place. The three of you stroll back towards the castle, forced to walk as all then carriages are gone.

Dinner’s halfway over when the three of you arrive. Luna departs for the Ravenclaw table and you and Harry slide in by Ron and Hermione. “What happened?” Hermione gasps, gesturing to Harry’s bleeding nose. “Later Hermione,” Harry hisses, focusing on Dumbledore’s speech. You softly readjust the cloth he holds against his nose before turning to the front as well. “Even now, as we speak, dark forces attempt to penetrate this castle. They attempt to infiltrate your mind and you must ask yourselves, will you be the one to deliver your peers to darkness. The answer is hopefully no.” The speech was bleak, and it struck a chord with Harry. He was sure now more than ever that Draco was working with other followers of Voldemort. “We have a staffing change as well. I’d like to welcome Professor Horace Slughorn who will reprise his role as potions master. Professor Snape will begin Defense Against the Dark Arts.” It takes you a second to register said statement. “Wait what?” you ask incredulously. Harry answers, “That’s the man that Dumbledore took me to meet before we went to the Burrow. He wants me to get to know him, get close to him.” “Why?” you hiss. Harry just shakes his head responding, “Dunno.” When dinner’s over, you and your friends trail back up to Gryffindor tower. And before you sleep you ask Harry, “Harry I want you to promise me something okay?” He looks up at you from his spot on the couch. “Promise me you won’t impulsively go after Malfoy,” you state. Harry immediately frowns but you continue, “Harry, if he really is one of them now, then they could easily be at his side. Please don’t do anything impulsive, I need you to be safe Harry.” In response to your plee, Harry stands and presses a soft kiss to your cheek. “I promise,” he whispers. Satisfied, you return his kiss and skip off to bed.

The next day was Quidditch tryouts. After Umbridge left Harry was reinstated and became captain. He kept you and Cormack on as beaters, Ginny as a chaser. There was one open spot, for keeper. Competition was fierce but in the end, it’s Ron who gets the position, to a very satisfied Hermione. That night you sat by the fire, comparing schedules. “Why aren’t you taking potions?” you ask Harry and Ron. Harry answers, “I don’t have the scores to become auror anyways so I may as well not take it.” You purse your lips considering his statement. Turning towards the fire, you realize how late it is. “Well, we best get some rest before classes tomorrow. Goodnight everyone,” you tell them. Harry walks you to the stairs like normal. “Goodnight Harry,” you tell him between kisses. “Goodnight beautiful,” he responds, causing a blush to creep to your nose. Harry laughs and sends you up the stairs.

The next day was a whirlwind as you rushed from class to class. And as you stood listening to Professor Slughorn drone on about potions you’re surprised to see Harry and Ron enter the dungeons. “Ah, Harry my boy what brings you here?” Slughorn beams. Harry replies, “Well sir, Ron and I have added potions to our schedule sir. But we don’t have the book.” Slughorn, turning back to his notes says, “Very well, check the back cupboard for any extra books and find a seat.” Harry nods. Another moment later and Harry and Ron settle into your table. You raise your eyebrows at him. He mouths back ‘McGonagall’s orders.’ You smile, having had a feeling this would happen. When Slughorn announces that you’ll be brewing draught of living death on your own, you feel Hermione tense beside you. You laugh until you hear what the prize for the best one is. A vial of Felix Felicis. “Liquid luck,” you gasp. Hermione stares longingly at the prize and you join her gaze. “And Begin! Goodluck!” Slughorn proclaims.

Half an hour later you wipe your forehead across your arm, sweat dripping down your face. “Why is this so hard,” you curse under your breath. Hermione had an equally difficult time, which comforted you a little bit. Trying to slice open a lobalog you growl as it shoots across the room out from under your knife. “Bloody hell,” you shot, eliciting a few dirty looks. Harry laughs at you. Turning to shoot him a fake glare, it’s then that you notice how well Harry is doing. Walking over to him you tug on his hand. He turns to look at you. “How are you doing this so well?” you moan in annoyance. Harry laughs and lets go of your hand turning to your textbook. “There’s notes in here,” he says, “I’ve just been following them.” Your eyes widen in jealousy. “Do share my dear,” you gently tease him. He shrugs, “Well for instance, try crushing the lobalogs against the blade instead of cutting them.” “Well okay,” you reply, returning to your station. Lo and behold, the crushing works and you smile in satisfaction. Hermione is in complete panic mode now, her hair blowing up in the steam. Dripping the juice into your cauldron she gasps, “How did you do that?” Shrugging you tell her, “I just crushed them instead of slicing them.” She shakes her head, “But that’s not in the directions.” Grinning you turn back to your work replying, “But it worked didn’t it?” She huffs in annoyance and continues trying to slice the bugs. Leave it to Hermione to insist on doing things by the book.

When everyone is finished, Professor Slughorn parades around the room testing each potion. “I can tell this class will need some work,” he comments. Finally reaching your station he tests Ron’s and tuts, “Pitiful,” to which Ron profusely blushes. Hermione’s is next and he smiles saying, “Well done Ms. Granger.” She beams with pride. When he tests yours his face grows with excitement, “Even better Ms. l/n.” You couldn’t help but grin despite Hermione’s frustration next to you. But in the end it’s Harry’s that wins. “This is fantastic my boy! Absolutely Splendid! One bottle of Felix Felicis for you!” Slughorn hands the bottle over. Harry smiles and flashes a wink at you. Hermione looks torn between jealousy and curiosity and Ron looks longingly at the bottle. Exiting the dungeons you whisper to Harry, “I do hope you’ll share that book a little more.” Harry chuckles and takes your hand, walking towards the Great Hall for lunch.

The first weekend after classes was your first Quidditch match. And unlucky for you it was against Slytherin. By the end of the week Ron was falling apart from nerves. “Ron are you okay?” you tap his shoulder. He jumps nearly a mile. “What? Oh sorry I was just thinking about the match tomorrow,” he replies. “Ron you’re gonna do fine,” Hermione reassures him. He gulps, “I’m not so sure ‘Mione.” He studies the fire in the common room, avoiding everyone’s gaze. “You should get some sleep Ron,” Ginny pushes him up from the couch. “I’m sure I’ll sleep, and not spend the whole night worrying about tomorrow,” he groans, traipsing up the steps. Ginny and Hermione follow. “We should get some sleep too,” you pull Harry up from the couch. “Meet you down here at 7 tomorrow?” he asks you. “Of course,” you tell him. Reaching the stairs to the girls dormitory you stop and turn to him. “Are you nervous for tomorrow?” you ask him, wrapping your arms around his waist in a hug. He murmurs into your hair, “For me? No. For Ron? Yes. But I have an idea on how to fix that.” Pulling away from the hug you catch the mischievous glint in his eye. “Harry James Potter what are you planning on doing?” you fake scold him. He laughs, “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” You push a finger into his chest and he backs against the window. “I know when you’re lying Harry,” you tell him. He grabs the wrist of the hand poking at his chest and kisses you deeply, pulling you into him. It’s all too easy to give into his touch and you let him run his hands across your back as you wind your own through his hair. Breathlessly he pulls away when he runs out of breath, with a goofy grin plastered on his face. You shake your head at his smile, He goes to kiss you again but you turn your head saying, “No kisses for you until you tell me this plan.” Harry groans, still reaching for your lips. Finally he sighs, “You’re too hard to resist.” Grinning at your victory, you turn towards him and wait for his explanation. He continues, “I was thinking of faking putting the Felix Felicis in Ron’s morning juice. I already asked Luna to come over and comment on the ‘tonic’ I put in his juice. If he thinks I gave him it, then I bet anything he’ll be at the top of his game.” Your jaw drops in surprise. “Harry that’s brilliant!” you squeal in delight. He laughs, “Well I’m glad you think so.” The clock chimes midnight and Harry frowns in frustration. “You should get to bed,” he tells you. Nodding, you plant one last lingering kiss on his lips and bound up the stairs, his eyes watching your backside as you go. Harry sighs in contentment and goes to bed himself.

The next morning you wait for Ron and Hermione to arrive at breakfast, as you already sat with Harry and Luna. When Ron does sit you urge him to eat. He looks like a ghost. “Some juice then? Come on drink up Ron?” Harry pushes the cup forward. As planned Luna comments, “Is that why you put a tonic in there?” Ron looks to Harry in confusion. Again as planned, Harry hastily moves the bottle of Felix Felicis from the table. It’s Hermione who speaks up, “Harry you can’t do that! It’s illegal.” Harry shrugs, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Hermione groans in frustration at Harry. Turning to Ron she begs, “Don’t drink it Ron. You don’t want your first victory to be won unfairly.” Ron considers her statement for a brief moment before downing the juice. Hermione frowns in disappointment. “Come on Harry, y/n. We’ve got a match to win,” he strides towards the field with newfound confidence. You follow your teammates with a hint of guilt in your chest at lying to Hermione. Harry, being your closest confidant, notices you’re feeling guilty. “She’ll find out soon enough, no harm done. I promise,” he tells you. Taking your hand, he leads you to the changing rooms.

Nearly every single student showed up for the match, the crowds were massive. After a somewhat motivating speech from Harry, you emerged from the changing rooms. Before you let him go and focus you kiss him on the cheek and say, “Goodluck darling.” He smiles and struts away. Following his figure, you focus all your thoughts on beating Slytherin.

As soon as Madam Hooch blew her whistle it was evident how much the Slytherin’s wanted to win. Due to the fact that they were likely to play dirty, you had to dash around the field, batting every bludger in their way. One Slytherin made their way through your defense and went to score. Miraculously, Ron blocks the Quaffle, kicking it right into Ginny’s arms. “YEAH!” you pumped your fist in the air. Refocusing, you search for the next bludger. Headed for Ginny with the quaffle, you dived in front of the bludger, wacking it towards a Slytherin chaser with all your strength. Knowing this move, GInny simultaneously dips lower, continuing on with the quaffle. The team was incredibly in sync. Another ten minutes pass and you spot the snitch. A red blur quickly follows it and you knew Harry saw it. Problem was, so did Malfoy. Racing towards Malfoy, you search around for any bludger to hit. The answer comes in the form of a heavy object slamming into the back of your arm. Gritting your teeth, you watch the bludger fly past you. Ignoring the pulsing in your left arm you position yourself behind the bludger and blasted it in Malfoy’s direction. His hand reached out for the snitch and you watched with bated breath. The bludger made contact with the back of his shoulders, effectively knocking him out of the way. With Malfoy gone, Harry closes his fist around the snitch in victory. He sails towards the ground, jumping off his broom. The whole team follows and the seven of you dog pile on top of Harry. The stands erupted in cheers and the Slytherin’s quickly retreated in defeat.

That night in the common room a party was thrown to celebrate the victory. Tons of firewhiskey was brought in, music blasting through a speaker. When Ron entered he was immediately lifted onto people’s shoulders. The amount of saves he brought for the team was nothing short of amazing. Hermione scowled. You and Harry walked up to her, ready to explain what really happened. Wordlessly, Harry pulled the vial out and showed it to her. She gasps, “You didn’t really put it in. He only thought you did.” Harry nods. “Sorry we didn’t tell you before,” you add. “It’s perfectly alright I…” Her voice trails off, her expression immediately changing to disgust. You and Harry followed her gaze and see Ron Weasley passionately kissing Lavender Brown. “Oh no. That’s not good,” you mumble. Harry stares on, stunned into silence. You turn to talk to Hermione, but she’s gone. “Harry,” you nudge him out of his daze. “Hermione’s gone,” you tell him. His face falls, “Oh no. She must be heartbroken.” You nod your head. “I’m going to go find her and talk to her. I’ll catch you later,” you press a fleeting kiss on his cheek and leave Gryffindor tower, searching for Hermione.

20 minutes later you find her in her favorite stairwell, the sniffles floating up to your ears. “Oh Hermione,” you sigh, filled with sympathy. You silently sit down next to her and place an arm around her. She sobs loudly. “I’m so sorry,” you tell her. She cries into your shoulder, soaking your shirt. Eventually, her cries slow and she shakes softly. “How did you do it?” “Do what ‘Mione?” you ask. She sniffles, “Watch Harry be with someone else. Last year with Cho.” You sigh, pondering her question. Eventually you answer, “It was hard. Really hard actually. Some days I didn’t want to leave the room. But I had to be strong.” She nods. “Ron’s an idiot,” you comment. She laughs. Minutes pass and she fiddles with her wand, conjuring tiny songbirds that circle the two of you. Soon giggles round the corner and a cheery Ron and Lavender pause at the sight of the two of you. Ron glances up, “What’s with the birds?” he asks. Lavender coos, “Come on Ron, I think this stairwell is taken.” She leaves but Ron stares at you comforting your friend. Hermione’s face hardens and she flicks her wand, sending the birds after him. With a look of horror and confusion, he turns and runs away. Then her cries return. “Hermione you know you don’t need him right?” you tell her. She doesn’t answer. You continue, “You’re the smartest person I know Hermione. And you’re such a pretty girl. Besides, you've got me and Ginny and Harry. We’re here for you. Come on, let’s go back.” Hermione nods and follows you back to Gryffindor tower. Sending her up the stairs to your dormitory you say, “If you need anything Hermione I’ll be in the common room for a little while.” She nods and says, “Thank you y/n. You really are my best friend.” You hug her and send her to bed.

When Hermione is gone you walk over to the couch to find Harry talking to Ginny. “Well?” Ginny asks. You sigh, “I got her to stop crying. But she’s heartbroken.” Ginny nods, “I can’t believe my idiot brother.” Harry bites back a snort of laughter. Ginny laughs and stands up saying, “Well I think I’ll head to bed. Great match today guys.” You compliment, “You too Ginny. You must have scored at least seven times.” She shrugs as if it was nothing. Laughing, she walks up the stairs and disappears behind the door. Finally you turn to Harry and let out a long breath. “This will sure make things complicated,” Harry comments. You nod. Taking his arm, you place it around your shoulders and curl up into him, tucking your feet underneath you on the couch. Harry asks, “Are you okay y/n?” Breathing against his chest you answer, “I’m okay. It’s just Hermione asked how I had to deal with you seeing Cho. And I had to think back about that. Because even though I was with Seamus I still had such strong feelings for you and it was hard to watch you be with someone else.” “I know exactly what you mean,” Harry replies. “I wish we didn’t lose all that time,” you admit. Harry speaks softly, “I wish we didn’t either. But we’re together now. That’s all that matters.” “You’re right,” you agree with him. A comfortable silence falls over the two of you and you relish in the pure bliss of snuggling with Harry. Suddenly, a thought comes to you and you sit up looking at Harry. “Harry what are we?” you ask eagerly. He snorts with laughter, “I beg your pardon?” You continue, “I mean I know we’re together, but like are we dating? Are we boyfriend and girlfriend? That’s what I mean.” A blush creeps onto his cheeks as he considers your thought. “Well?” you elbow him playfully. He answers, “I’m not really sure what any of that means. I’ve never really dated anyone before but I would like to call you my girlfriend. You grin like a fool. “So I’m your girlfriend then?” you look up at him. He answers by kissing you, pulling you into his lap. Breathlessly he pulls away and answers, “Yes. You’re my girlfriend.” You smile and kiss him again. It felt so natural to sit in his lap. His hands roam around your lower back, leaving your skin on fire. Running your hands through his hair, you let your tongue slip in his mouth and press yourself closer to him. Boldly, Harry removes his lips from yours and begins to suck on your neck. You hiss, “Harry that feels good.” He chuckles against your skin and continues to leave love marks on your collarbone. You squirm in his lap and he pulls away saying sheepishly, “We’ll probably have to stop now.” His face was beet red. Sliding off his lap you plant a soft kiss to his cheek and whisper, “Goodnight darling.” He gulps, “Goodnight y/n.” Flopping onto your bed, you fall asleep with a goofy grin on your face.

As potions continues throughout the term, Hermione becomes increasingly furious with how well Harry is doing. “Hermione I would let you share my book with me you know?” Harry argues with her after class. She huffs, “That’s not the point Harry. It’s that it doesn’t follow directions.” “Suit yourself,” Harry shrugs. “See you at the three broomsticks?” you ask Hermione. She shakes her head, “I suppose. But if Ron and Lavender are there I’m leaving.” “Okay Hermione,” you tell her. Looking out the window, you see a fresh layer of snow falling as you run up to Gryffindor tower to change. You decided to wear jeans with your brown combat boots and, sneaking up to Harry’s room, you throw on his Quidditch sweatshirt. Walking down the stairs into the common room, Harry raises his eyebrows at you. “I don’t think that’s yours,” he teases, snaking an arm around your waist. You feign innocence, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He laughs and kisses you on the forehead.

You enjoyed your time at the three broomsticks, successfully managing to distract Hermione from Ron and Lavender. Tragedy struck on the walk back to the castle. One moment you were laughing with your friends and the next minute you laughed in horror as Katie Bell’s body hung in the air a package lying at her feet. “Oh my god what’s going on?” you shout, running forward. Katie’s friend tells you, “I told her not to touch it, I told her!” Confused, you watched as Katie’s body is thrown around by some unknown force. She then drops from the air. “Arresto Momento!” you yell, slowing her fall. Stepping forward, you reach for the package but are stopped by Hagrid striding forward yelling, “Do not touch that! Whatever you do don’t touch that!” Stepping back, you watch as Hagrid lifts Katie up and carries her back towards the castle.

When you get back to the castle, you’re immediately summoned by Professor McGonagall. “Please describe what happened,” she asks you. Hermione jumps into a long winded explanation, saving you from having to say anything. When she’s done Professor McGonagall says, “Very well, you may go.” Harry however, stays glued to where he stands. “It was Malfoy,” he blurts suddenly. Both you and Hermione shoot him a look not to pursue this. “And how, may I ask, do you know that?” McGonagall questions him. “I just know,” Harry replies. “You just know?” McGonagall lets the statement hang in the air. Professor Snape comes striding into view and says something privately to Professor McGonagall. She whispers something to him. When he leaves she looks back to the three of you and says, “Please go back to Gryffindor tower.” You’re happy to oblige.

When you get out to the hallway you tell Hermione, “Hey you go on up, I want to talk to Harry for a minute.” She nods. When she leaves, you take Harry’s hand and dragged him up to the astronomy tower. When you get there, you pause and turn around to face him. “Harry what’s with the firm belief that Malfoy is up to something?” you ask him. He crosses his arms replying, “I already expected no one else to believe me but now you too?” He looks betrayed. Sighing, you uncross his arms and hold his hands in yours. He avoids your eye contact. You place a hand on his cheek and catch his green eyes. “Harry please talk to me,” you whisper. He sighs and answers, “I just need you to believe me.” Your voice rises to a shot as you try to convince him, “Harry I do believe in you! I do!” He finally looks at you, emotion in his eyes. You continue, “Harry, if you say Draco did it I believe you. I just don’t want you to get into unnecessary trouble, you know I worry about you.” His eyes flash with sadness. “Katie could have died,” he lets the statement hang in the air. “But she didn’t,” you reply. Harry takes your hand and brings you to the edge of the astronomy tower. The two of you sit, legs dangling off the edge, and watch the sunset. Harry’s arm is wrapped around your shoulders and you lean into him, nuzzling your face into his chest. After it gets dark he says, “I wish we could just run away sometimes.” You lift your head up from his chest and study his facial features. You were only 16 but Harry looked aged, there was worry in his eyes and you couldn’t remember a time when his eyebrows weren’t furrowed in concern. “I wish we could too Harry,” you lightly kissed his cheek. After a pause he confesses, “It’s so much pressure. I’m just a teenage boy. And now the whole wizarding world is relying on me to save their asses.” You knew it was hard for Harry to admit his fears, he always wanted to wear a brave face. You gently turn Harry’s face towards your own and kiss his lips deeply. You only pull away when you run out of breath. Breathing into his face you whisper, “I’m never going to leave you Harry. I’m going to help you. You’re not alone in this.” Pressing his forehead against yours, Harry says, “I really don’t deserve you.”

Slughorn made a big deal about the Christmas party that he would be hosting this year for his favorite students. Sitting in the common room around the fire you ask Hermione, “So who are you going to bring to the Slugclub’s christmas party?” She groans, “Ooh I don’t know. Maybe I should just go solo. Or wait, I’ll bring you!” You laugh, “Hermione, Harry is Slughorn’s crowning jewel in his collection of students, surely you don’t expect me to not go with my boyfriend?” She sighs, “God I don’t know what to do. You know who I’d really like to go with, but I can’t.” Squeezing her hand you say, “I know Hermione. It will get better.” She replies, “What I’d love to do is take the person who would piss Ron off the most.” You encourage her, “So do it then.” She pauses, “Maybe I will.” Harry comes up to the two of you and says, “What’s going on?” You tell him, “Hermione doesn’t know who to take to the Christmas party next week.” Harry sits down on the couch, pulling you into his lap and kissing you quickly before telling Hermione, “You know I happen to know someone that is dying to go with you.” Hermione’s eyes nearly pop out as she asks, “Who?” Harry laughs, “Cormack.” Hermione groans, “Now that is the last person I want to go with.” Harry agrees, “Yes, he’s quite annoying. But I know he would say yes.” “Fine,” Hermione huffs and walks over to Cormack, taking the plot into her own hands. Harry tickles your side and kisses your neck affectionately. “Harry stop,” you giggle. He chuckles and continues to tickle your sides. Finally, when your laughing dies down, Harry asks, “So what will my beautiful y/n be wearing to the party?” Kissing him on the nose you reply, “It’s a surprise.” He groans, “Don’t keep me in suspense.” “But then it’s no fun for me,” you laugh. Hermione stomps back over and says, “It’s done,” with a look of disgust on her face.

You help Hermione get ready for the party, nervousness already spreading through you. The dress you decided to wear was a deep red, silk material, with off the shoulder sleeves that stopped right above your knees. Meeting Harry in the common room, his eyes glance over you and he lets out a low whistle. “Harry,” you blush profusely, playfully swatting his arm. “You look gorgeous,” Harry breathes. Blush travels up your neck to the tip of your nose and you mumble, “Thanks.” Harry offers you his arm and he escorts you to the party.

Slughorn welcomes Harry with open arms and only acknowledges you as an afterthought. Once he’s thoroughly had his ear talked off, Harry returns to you side. “Care for a dance?” Harry asks you. You smile sheepishly, “Harry I’m not the best dancer.” He laughs, “And you think I am? Come on we’ll embarrass ourselves together.” So you let him drag you onto the dance floor. Harry really wasn’t the best dancer, but he had an ulterior motive; to hold you close. Wrapping your arms around his neck, his hands wind around your waist, pulling you tightly against him. You rest your head on his shoulder, The biggest smile grows across his face as he sways with you in his arms. And in that moment, Harry thought that he could never be happier than he was right now. But as was typical with his life, the happy moment was quickly interrupted. Mr. Filch entered the premises, dragging a reluctant Draco Malfoy with him. “Professor Slughorn sir, found this one gate crashing. Claims he was invited sir,” Filch simpers. Slughorn chuckles, “No harm done, no harm done.” Before he can continue, Professor Snape sweeps onto the scene and says, “I can take care of Mr. Malfoy.” His black robes sweep behind him as he drags the boy out of the party. You look to Harry, wondering what he wants to do. Your eyes travel down to his pocket as he flashes you the invisibility cloak. You nod and follow him as he slinks out into the corridor.

“Come on, let's go. Quickly,” Harry raises the cloak and you climb underneath, standing against him. Shuffling slowly down the hallway, you and Harry stand tucked against the wall as you listen to hushed voices. “I made a vow to protect you. So I would appreciate you not getting yourself into trouble everytime I turn my back,” Snape sneers. Draco shoots back, “I was chosen for this task. I don’t need your help. He chose me. Leave me alone.” Then there’s the telltale stomping of Draco walking away. You look at Harry, who mutters, “Believe me now?” Slowly, you nod. “He’s definitely involved somehow,” you agree. Harry gulps and slowly takes you back to the Christmas party. But the rest of the night seems pointless and you watch helplessly as Harry is extremely agitated to a point of distress.

Returning to the common room, Hermione immediately goes to take a shower, claiming she needs to scrub off Cormack’s touch. Harry plops down in an armchair and you settle comfortably in his lap. “Think we’ll ever have a night to ourselves, uninterrupted by impending doom?” you chuckle sarcastically. Harry laughs and runs a hand affectionately through your hair. “One day darling, one day,” he promises you. You study his emerald green eyes closely and see both the admiration and sadness in them at the same time. “One day,” you echo his thoughts. Harry smiles adoringly at you and you laugh, kissing him gently. Eventually, you part ways with your lover and go to bed.

Christmas holiday came by fast and soon enough you were back at the burrow. Opening your presents, you smile at the sweater Mrs. Weasley had knit you. “Oh thank you so much Mrs. Weasley I love it!” You run around the table and hugged her. From Ron you got some broom polish, from Hermione the new edition of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, and from Ginny you got new converse. “Thank you so much guys!” you beam at your friends around the table. And as dessert finished up, everyone scattered throughout the house, enjoying family conversation. Making yourself some hot chocolate, you sit in the windowsill, watching snow fall.

Harry comes up from behind you, kissing the top of your head. “Hello darling,” you smile at him and patted the seat next to you. Sitting down, he smirks and pulls out a present from behind his back. “Harry you didn’t have to,” you begin but he silences you with a kiss. When he pulls away he says, “Yes I had to. Because you are life’s greatest gift to me.” Smiling cheekily you reply, “I got something for you too.” Revealing the present you got him from underneath the cushion, you push it towards him saying, “Open it.” Harry grins and begins to unwrap it. His breath stops for a moment when he sees what it is. Somehow, you’d managed to find a picture of you and Harry, age 7, smiling and lying in your aunt’s backyard, dirt all over your hands, holding them up to the camera. You’d managed to charm the picture to move and it showed you laughing and wiping dirt on Harry’s nose. It was a simple frame the picture was in, but it was the picture that mattered. His green eyes shine with emotion as he says softly, “I love it. I love it so much.” You smile, satisfied with the gift. Harry hastily wiped his eyes on his sleeve and says, “Your turn,” pushing your own gift towards you. It was rather tiny and you held your breath as you opened it. “Oh Harry,” you gasp, staring at the gift. It was a simple oval shaped silver locket. But that wasn’t the special part. The special part was that you noticed this necklace in a shop window in Hogsmeade months ago. Somehow, Harry had remembered this. Opening the locket, you saw a picture of you and Harry moving. It was the two of you embracing tightly after you won a Quidditch match earlier this year. “Hermione must have taken it,” Harry shrugs, answering your question before you can ask it. “Will you put it on me?” you ask him. Harry nods and takes the necklace from you. Turning around, the hairs on your neck stood on end as Harry brushed your long locks aside, and clasped the necklace around you.

When Lupin turns to leave, Harry stands with him at the front door, staring out across the land. “Something’s up,” you mutter to Ginny. The two of you walk towards the door behind him. Suddenly there’s a flash of black across the sky and you freeze in your spot as you hear the laugh of Bellatrix Lestrange echoing through the air. There’s a ring of fire and Bellatrix appears chanting, “I killed Sirius Black! I killed Sirius Black!” You look at Ginny and mutter, “Oh no. He’ll go after her.” Sure enough, Harry sprints through the ring of fire after the death eater in a moment of anger. Without a second thought, you sprint after him, jumping over the flames. “Y/n no!” Lupin shouts after you. Ignoring it, you sprint through the tall grass after Harry. “Harry!” you scream. Sprinting further into the tall grass, you search frantically for your boyfriend. There’s a rustling in the grass a few feet behind you and you turn around scared. “Harry?” you call out shakily. There’s a low growl coming from the rustling in the leaves and you freeze, frightened. Backing up quickly, you squint your eyes into the night, searching for the source of the growls. You gasp as your feet hit wet ground, and you back up into the dredged pond. Then you nearly jump out of your skin when your back hits something solid. Turning around, you sigh in relief as you see Harry. “There’s something out there,” your voice quivers. “Don’t turn your back to anything,” he tells you. You oblige, standing back to back with Harry, wands raised, searching for death eaters. Then Fenrir Greyback comes into view, releasing that low growling sound again. “There’s that pretty one,” he grumbles in your direction. You feel Harry tense behind you and he turns around saying, “Touch her and you die.” The werewolf growls and moves closer. “Harry,” you grip his forearm, concern growing in your voice. Then there’s a bellowing behind you and Mr. Weasley shouts, “Stupefy!” The werewolf is blasted back onto the ground. He gets up, seething anger and advances towards you. A screech fills the air and he stops, looking back towards the burrow. He smiles smugly and disapparates. Looking back to the burrow, you see the entire house is on fire and collapsing in on itself. “Oh my god,” you gasp in horror. You take off sprinting towards the house, Harry following close behind.

There was no cheering Harry up over the final days of Christmas Holiday. You knew that he completely blamed himself for what happened at the Burrow. Returning to Hogwarts, Harry is immediately whisked away by Dumbledore for another one of their special lessons. So you sat up in the common room, waiting for him. Nearing midnight, you jump in surprise as the portrait opens and it’s not Harry. Ginny shuts the portrait and leans against it, a smug smile on her face. “Ginny?” you hiss at her. She jumps in surprise. “Bloody hell y/n you frightened me,” the smile drops from her face. “Where were you?” you question. She struggles to form an excuse. Finally she confesses, “With Luna.” “At the library?” you continue. Ginny blurts out, “No. We’re dating.” “Oh,” you’re briefly surprised. But the more you thought about it, the more the idea of Ginny and Luna together grew on you. “That’s great,” you smile at her. “I’m happy for you,” you continue. She beams, “Thanks y/n. Night.” “Night Ginny,” you reply. It was almost 1 am when Harry returns. “Bloody hell Harry that took a long time,” you whisper, walking up to him. You hug him and don’t let go for at least two minutes. “Y/n,” he laughs, “What’s going on?” You pull away and say, “I don’t know. I’m just always scared that whenever you leave there’s a chance I’ll never see you again.” Harry looks at you intensely and whispers, “Do you really get scared of that?” Wordlessly you nod, looking down. He tilts your chin up and gives you a soft kiss. Trying to make you smile he says, “Not even death could take me from you.” You give him a small smile as he moves over to the armchair by the fire. You casually climb into his lap, curling up into him. “What did he say this time?” you ask. Harry sighs, “He really needs me to get that memory from Slughorn. Without it we won’t know how many horcruxes there are or any idea where the could be.” “Oh,” is all you can say. Harry audibly gulps and you reassure him, “You’ll get it Harry, I know you will.” Harry presses a kiss to your neck and mutters sleepily, “Thanks.” It wasn’t abnormal for people to find you and Harry curled up in the common room, having fallen asleep. That’s what happened tonight.

Reconvening at dinner the next day Harry tells you of his failed attempt to get the memory. “He’s now avoiding me at all costs,” Harry groans. You gently rub his shoulders saying, “I’m sure it will be alright.” Harry laughs, “He kicked me out of his office and didn’t even acknowledge my presence in potions today.” “You’ll just have to wait it out and try again,” you tell him. “I suppose you’re right,” Harry concedes. “Always am,” you reply with a smirk. Kissing the top of his head you say, “Come on, let’s head back. Besides I haven’t seen Ron since lunch and I’m slightly worried.” “Alright,” Harry takes your hand and you walk back to Gryffindor tower.

Entering the common room you look around and don’t see Ron. “I’ll check upstairs,” he says, bounding up the steps. You walk over to the fireplace and see Hermione entranced in her homework. “You okay ‘Mione?” you ask her. She looks up from her place on the floor and says, “What? Oh yeah I’m fine.” “Hermione it’ll get better,” you try to tell her. She groans, “I don’t know. I just wish things would go back to normal.” “I know what you mean,” you tell her.

About to settle into your homework, Harry comes down the stairs, pulling a reluctant Ron. “What’s happening?” you walk up to them. Hermione follows, concern etched on her face. “Romilda Vane tried to slip me a love potion through some chocolates. Ron helped himself instead,” Harry grunts, pulling Ron towards the common room door. “Where are you going?” Hermione asks. Harry replies, “To Slughorn. He’ll fix this. Don’t worry, be back soon.” He flashes you a wink and then leaves, tugging Ron behind him.

Every minute that Harry and Ron don’t return, Hermione grows even more anxious. “Hermione, I’m sure everything is fine okay? Harry had to get Ron to Slughorn’s office and you saw how loopy Ron was. It’s bound to take a little while,” you reassure her. She looks up at you and you’re surprised to see her crying. “Hermione what’s the matter?” you exclaim in worry. Wrapping your arms around her, you urge her to share. She sniffles, “I’m worried about him y/n.” You feel the utmost sympathy for her. “Hermione it’ll be okay. I promise,” you console her. She merely sobs into your shoulder. Her head pops immediately up when Harry bursts through the portrait hole, breathing tirelessly from sprinting up to the common room. “What is it?” you shoot to your feet. Harry sighs, “Ron was poisoned. He’s going to be okay, but he’s in the hospital wing. He’s gonna be there for a few days.” Harry waits for no reply, instead he turns and runs back to his friend’s side. Hermione and you sprint after him.

Entering the hospital wing, your heart hurts to see Ron laying there, the palest you’d ever seen him. He looked ghastly. Hermione throws all caution aside and plants herself beside him, clutching one of his hands in her own. You watch on by Harry’s side. The drama only continues when Lavender comes into the room, seething at the sight before her. “What are you doing here?” she asks Hermione coolly. Hermione replies, “Ron’s my friend.” Lav scoffs, “I suppose you’re only here because he’s all interesting now.” Hermione laughs, “He’s been poisoned you daft bimbo! Besides, he wants me here I’m sure.” Lavender finds this hilarious. Ron begins to stir and Lavender smiles, expecting him to sense her presence. Instead, Ron moans out, “Her-mi-one. Her-mi-one.” You’re floored with surprise. Turning, you watch as Lavender runs from the room, sobbing endlessly. You shoot Hermione your biggest smirk and she looks away, muttering, “Shut up.”

Ron is allowed to leave the hospital wing three days later. Harry had told you what happened. That the poisoned mead Ron drank was meant for Dumbledore. He had your suspicions and as much as you wanted to deter Harry from getting in a duel with Draco, you couldn’t help but agree with him that everything pointed towards the platinum haired Slytherin. Sighing, you sit down next to Harry in the common room, as he pours over his potions book. Gently taking it from his hands, you say softly, “Harry. It’s time to get that memory from Slughorn.” “How?” he asks you exasperated. “With a little help from Felix?” you offer the suggestion casually. He grins, “That’s brilliant! You’re brilliant y/n.” He plants a kiss to your forehead and runs up the stairs to his room. When he returns, he holds the vial tightly in his palm. Ron and Hermione approach the two of you. “What are you gonna do with that mate?” Ron asks him, gesturing to the vial. Harry responds, “It’s time for me to get that memory from Slughorn. Dumbledore says it’s the key to figuring out how to defeat Voldemort.” Ron nods. Harry looks from you, to Ron and Hermione. “Go on,” you encourage him. He downs the potion in one swallow. As he finishes the potion, a grin spreads widely across his face. Hermione tells him, “Right. Slughorn usually takes supper in his office, and then goes for a nightly walk. You’ll be able to find him I’m sure.” Harry stares at her and replies, “Right. I’m going to Hagrid’s.” He begins to walk towards the portrait hole. “Harry, wait what?” you call after him. He turns around to you and goes all doey eyed. “My beautiful y/n,” he walks over to you and cups your face gently. You suppress a laugh. It appears that Felix Felicis had the same effect as too much alcohol. “Harry you’ve got to find Slughorn,” you urge him, removing his hands from your cheeks. “I’ve got the feeling though that Hagrid’s is the place to be,” he argues. He turns to exit again. “Harry, are you sure you know what you’re doing?” you ask desperately. He smiles, “No. But Felix does. I’ll see you guys later.” He exits Gryffindor common room. “I have a very bad feeling about this,” you groan, sitting next to Hermione. She laughs, “He did seem a bit drunk didn’t he?” Ron agrees, “Seemed bloody wasted more like it.” Eventually Ron and Hermione head to bed and you wait up for Harry, tapping your leg restlessly against the floor.

The portrait hole opens at around midnight. “Harry!” you call out his name breathlessly. Shortcutting it, you step over the top of the couch, jumping into the green eyed boys arms and wrapping your legs around his waist. He catches you and holds you in his arms, his hands tucking underneath you to support your body. “Did you get it?” you ask him desperately. He grins, “I got it. Brought it to Dumbledore and saw it. He says he thinks he knows where one is. That we might go and get it soon.” Harry carries you over to the couch and sits down with you in his lap. “What did it say?” you ask about the memory. Harry’s eyes study you carefully. He confesses, “Slughorn’s the one that told him about the horcruxes. He split his soul into seven pieces. Seven.” You gulp nervously. Harry continues, “The diary from second year was one. The ring was another. But like I said, Dumbledore thinks he knows where the next one is.” “What a relief,” you sigh. Harry rubs your back affectionately and admits, “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of how excited you always are to see me.” You respond, “I’ll always be excited to see you.” Harry gives you one last fleeting look before smashing his lips on yours. His hands roam across your waist and you tangle your own in his messy black hair. You can feel the passion rising in your chest and you desperately cling to him. Harry breathes heavily, his lips moving to your neck. “Harry,” you sigh breathlessly. He continues showering you with affection. Harry kisses you with a desperation you’d never felt from him before. His fingers dug into your skin, as if he was scared you might disappear from his grasp. “Harry wait,” you gasp, reluctantly pulling away from his lips. “What is it?” he asks you, concern etched in his eyes. “When you go to find this, this horcrux, promise me you’ll be careful okay? Promise me,” you plead with him. Harry looks at you and responds, “Of course I’ll be careful y/n. Why are you so worried about me lately? I mean besides the inevitable.” You gulp and avoid his gaze. “Y/n what is it?” he implores you. A tear comes to your eyes and you look up at his beautiful emerald green ones. “Harry I always worry about you. I’ve never stopped. As much as you may want me not to, I will always worry for you. Because I love you Harry. I do, I love you.” Harry sucks in a sharp breath and searches your gaze. In his heart, he wonders if this is really happening. The words slip from his mouth, “I love you y/n. I always have. Always will. My heart has always belonged to you.” You brush away a stray hair of Harry’s bangs. “I never thought we’d get this,” you admit. Harry sighs, “Me neither. I always thought the timing wouldn’t line up. But here we are, and I can’t believe how lucky I am.” Grinning wildly, you rest your head on Harry’s shoulders. “I love you Harry,” you whisper into the night. “I love you too y/n,” he repeats. Waiting up for Harry that night was the best decision you’ve ever made. It appears the liquid luck gave you and Harry the extra push you needed to confess your love for one another. But the next morning the luck ran out.

You sat at breakfast beside Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Lifting cereal into your mouth, you drop your spoon as you watch who enters the great hall. “Harry look,” you nudge him, “It’s Katie. She’s out of the hospital.” Harry gasps and follows your gaze. Katie approaches the Gryffindor table quietly. Harry immediately stands and walks over to her. Worriedly, you follow him. Stopping in front of her, Harry asks quickly, “Katie, how are you feeling?” She gives him a small smile. “I’m okay Harry. Alive aren’t I? And before you ask Harry, I’m sorry. I don’t know who cursed me. I can’t remember a thing,” she tells him. Harry’s face falls and you place your hand in his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. He manages a smile, saying, “I’m just glad you’re okay Katie.” She smiles in return. Looking behind you, the smile falls from her face and she stands frozen in fear. Turning slowly around, you see the platinum blonde haired boy she’s staring out. “Oh no,” you mutter under your breath. Harry’s eyes follow Katie’s gaze and they fall on Draco, anger seething from his look. Katie’s frightened look at Draco is all Harry needs to confirm his suspicions. Draco glances briefly at Harry and then Katie. Then he exits the great hall quickly. Harry races after him. “Harry wait!” you call after him. He ignores you. “Bloody hell,” you groan, running after your boyfriend.

You skid to a halt outside the Great Hall and Harry and Malfoy are nowhere to be found. A floor above you, you hear the pounding of footsteps. “Shit,” you curse, sprinting up the steps. The footsteps came from near the bathroom. As you neared the door, your feet splashed in water on the floor. Kicking the door open, you hear curses flying and faucets breaking. “Harry!” you shout, searching for him amongst the chaos. Across the stalls on the other side of the room, you hear the sound of feet moving across the wet stone and watch helplessly as Draco tries to curse your boyfriend. “STOP!” you shriek desperately. But they were caught up in rage and no one listened to you. Harry shouts an unknown spell, “Sectum Sempra!” And Malfoy’s body is thrown back by the magic, his form coming into view. He lays beneath the sinks, and you race forward, your feet sopping wet. Coming to a stop, standing over the Slytherin boy, you gasp in surprise. Blood seeped from his body. Harry comes halting to a stop next to you. “Harry what did you do?” you breathe in horror. Harry cries, “I didn’t know. I didn’t know what that spell would do.” Behind the two of you, Professor Snape comes sweeping into the bathroom, kneeling over Draco’s body. Harry stands frozen. Draco’s body begins to heal, the wounds closing up. “Harry we have to go,” you grab his hand, pulling him backwards. “Harry,” you say urgently. Shaken from his daze, Harry finally turns to you, and the two of you run hand in hand back upstairs.

Back in Gryffindor common room, Harry explains to your two other friends what happened. “Where did you learn that spell?” Hermione asks. Harry avoids her gaze, instead looking to his potions book. “Harry you didn’t,” Hermione gasps. His silence confirms the answer. “Harry, Snape saw you in the bathroom. We need to hide this book. Whose book is it anyways?” you ask, taking the book from his grasp. “The half-blood prince. Who is the half-blood prince?” you ask curiously. Harry shrugs, “Dunno.” Rising to your feet, you pull Harry along with you. “We need to get rid of the book. No one else can learn that spell. Now,” you declare. Harry has no choice but to follow you.

You lead Harry to the room of requirement and he breathes, “Of course. Brilliant idea.” Closing your eyes, you concentrate on what you need the room to give you. And obliging to your request, the door appears and swings open. Squeezing Harry’s hand, you both enter the room of requirement.

Before you is a complete maze of every item that’s ever been hidden in the room before. Various noises wash over your ears and without thinking, you stash the book deep in the room, dragging Harry along beside you. When you return to Gryffindor tower, extremely out of breath, Harry falls to the couch in the common room, sighing, “Thank you. I didn’t know what to do. I was just… frozen. I didn’t know it would hurt him like that.” “I know baby, I know,” you stroke the back of his head.

A non-stop wave of rain passes over the castle for the next week. And on the last day before your scheduled exams, Harry announces to the group that Dumbledore wants them to depart for the supposed location of the next Horcrux. Worry coursed through you and you felt your heart nearly ripped out of your chest when Harry departed with Dumbledore.

Hours later, you stand pacing the common room. “What is taking them so long?” you blurt out at Hermione and Ron. Ron shrugs and Hermione replies, “He’s with Dumbledore y/n, I’m sure that he is safe.” And almost as if to defy her logic, there’s a loud crashing through the sky and you turn to look out the window, seeing possibly the worst thing you could have imagined. The dark mark rose high above the astronomy tower. “Harry!” you state, barely above a whisper. Before they can stop you, you race out of the common room, sprinting across the castle.

Your lungs burned as you made your way to the astronomy tower, but a loud noise stopped you. You heard a great crashing noise near the great hall and cackles of Bellatrix Lestrange’s notorious estranged laughter. Worry rises in your throat and you detour, running towards the great hall. Skidding to a stop, you see Harry exiting the castle. “HARRY!” you shriek desperately. But he doesn’t hear you, blinded with emotion. If possible, you pump your feet even harder and try to close the distance between the two of you. Blood rushes in your ears and you barely make out the cry of Fawkes across the castle grounds. Your eyes narrow in on Harry sprinting after Snape and Bellatrix, straight towards Hagrid’s hut. With a flick of her wand, Bellatrix sets his house on fire. Cries are heard from within and the building begins to collapse. Hagrid is nowhere to be found and you realize that Fang must be in there. Without a second thought, you cover your face and sprint into the flames. Coughing loudly, you croak, “Fang!” The dog answers with a cowering whine in the corner of the hut. Flames lick at your legs, burning the fabric into your skin, but you push onward, fueled with adrenaline, lifting the dog into your arms like a baby. Sputtering up smoke, you stumble out the door and put the dog down, who howls, racing towards the castle. In the midst of saving Fang, Harry has disappeared. His screams reach your ears near the castle, and your feet tirelessly carry your burned body towards the boy you loved.

Your heart stopped when you discovered him. Silence rushed in your ears as Harry knelt over Dumbledore’s limp body. His cries broke you. They were worse than anything you had ever heard. The thought of Dumbledore now gone made you fear for Harry more than ever before. You drop to your knees beside the headmaster’s body, cursing this night into oblivion. Pain overtakes your body, the burns becoming too much to bear. You collapse onto your side in the grass, succumbing to unconsciousness as the smoldering of your skin finally begins to stop.

#harry potter x reader #harry potter imagine #harry potter #draco malfoy x reader

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mtngirlforever · 5 years ago

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SRK ❤ pt. 2

So since I'm not really feeling this work day have some Carlos whump with a adorable Tarlos and a baby! Thank you to all you who offered medical input on this! I tried to gloss over it as much as possible so as not to screw it up too bad! Enjoy!

Here is part 1 if anyone needs a refresher https://mtngirlforever.tumblr.com/post/190830195629/srk-pt-1

Oh & In my head for this fluffy story Iris doesn't have any problems sorry not sorry

10 months later

They'd settled into a fairly good routine with Sofia. Iris kept her when they were on shift at the same time which happened more often than not. If Iris couldn't, then usually Grace did if she was off and free. If neither could they resorted to plan c but that rarely happened. They were currently planning her first birthday and waiting for actual words instead of adorable babbles. She'd started walking when she was ten months old and they'd not been able to stop her since. Everybody loved the adorable little girl but none more than her parents.

They'd left her with Iris for the day as they both had shift. TK was on a twelve covering for somebody and Carlos would be off in eight. They'd left her with kisses and promises to return soon.

Carlos ended up having to work over when a call kicked off before he clocked out. He’d texted Iris and TK letting them know he’d be working over, but TK hadn’t heard from him since. TK had two hours left in his shift when they got the call to respond to an officer involved accident. It'd been a routine chase until a car came out of nowhere t-boning the side of the officer's cruiser sending it rolling through the air. The officer was currently trapped in his car and barely conscious. TK's heart dropped into his stomach when he heard Grace's calm voice say "Captain it's Carlos."

Owen gave him an appraising look and Judd leaned over squeezing his shoulder giving him something to ground him. He could only nod back at his dad; his mind running on a loop of praying Carlos would be ok. He had to be ok.

It took all TK had to resemble being professional when they got there. The cruiser was right side up, but the passenger side was caved in, and it was noticeable that the cruiser had flipped. TK was in the car before Owen could even finish giving out the orders; he knew his son would want to make sure Carlos was fine with his own eyes.

It felt like an eternity, but TK knew his team worked as fast as they could to get him out. Carlos was in and out, and TK was worried about internal injuries he couldn’t see. He could tell Carlos for sure had a broken ankle, and multiple cuts and bruises. He was almost positive Carlos had a concussion, and with the way he was in and out, TK was worried something inside was bleeding. As soon as they had him free, TK jumped in the ambulance with Michelle, praying the whole way Carlos was going to be ok.

They'd been at the hospital for two hours now and TK was going stir crazy. He just wanted to see his husband and know that he was going to be ok. Michelle had called her sister and asked her to keep Sofia longer explaining what had happened. Iris readily agreed and told Michelle to keep her updated.

Another hour passed before a doctor came out informing TK that Carlos was out of surgery. His ankle had been fixed, and they’d had to remove his spleen. He had a low grade concussion as well. A few of the cuts required stitches, especially one on his head. The doctor was certain he would make a full recovery, as long as nothing went awry and no infections set in. He promised TK that as soon as Carlos was moved to a room, he could see him.

Owen hugged his son tight once the doctor walked off. He could see that TK was at the end of his rope and just needed a minute. "It's gonna be ok. He's strong and he's gonna be fine," he whispered.

"I know… I just…"

"I know," Owen said, giving him a squeeze. "I'm gonna go get Sofia from Iris but you call me if you need me ok?"

"Yea…. Yea I will. Thanks dad. Give her a hug and kiss from us, yea?" He said giving Owen another tight hug.

"I will kiddo." Owen and the rest of the team minus Judd and Grace left TK with it. Judd refused to leave until he was sure his little brother got back to see Carlos.

Once they had Carlos in a room, TK went back to see him, and Judd and Grace went home making TK promise to call if he needed them. TK walks into the room and let's out a soft sigh. He pulls up a chair and grabs the hand that doesn't have an iv in it. He holds the hand tight, finally letting the tears fall he'd been holding in since they’d gotten the call.

"You've got to be ok. Please be ok," he whispered. He sat there holding his hand and just watching his chest rise and fall until exhaustion took over and he fell asleep. It wasn't restful with nurses coming in and out, but he did get a little sleep. The doctor had told TK with a combination of the concussion and pain meds and anesthesia, Carlos would probably sleep for a while or be really in and out. The few times Carlos woke during the night, TK was asleep and the dim light in the room hurt his head too much to even wake TK. TK's woken the next morning by Owen calling.

"Hey dad," he said, rubbing his eyes as he answered the phone. He could hear his baby girl crying in the background and it broke his heart.

"Hey kiddo. Guess you can hear little miss is not very happy."

"Yea I hear her. Put me on facetime." He just wanted to hold her tight and kiss the tears away but he wasn't sure if she needed to be there and see Carlos like that.

They clicked over to facetime and TK’s heart broke even more when Sofia kept crying trying to reach for him through the phone.

"Hey baby girl. You're ok. You're ok," he cooed at her. "Pops ain't that bad baby," he chuckled.

She kept crying "dadadadada" over and over. She'd started saying dada a few weeks ago, and they were working on getting her to say papa now.

"I know Sof. I'm sorry baby girl. You're ok tho. Daddy and Papa will be home as soon as we can."

He blew kisses at her but nothing was working. "Just bring her on down dad. She's being stubborn like her papa," he smiled. "Oh and maybe a change or two of clothes for us?"

"Yea kiddo if you're sure."

"Not really, but she doesn't look like she's gonna stop anytime soon," he sighed. There was nothing he hated more than seeing his baby girl so upset.

"Alright we'll be there in just a little bit," Owen said as they signed off.

TK put his phone back in his pocket and sighed, picking up Carlos's hand again. "Your daughter is being stubborn just like you," he whispered. "She's giving dad a fit. So you better wake up because I don't want to scare her, you hear me Carlos. You gotta wake up," TK pleaded as he brushed the wayward curls off Carlos's forehead.

Carlos stayed asleep and TK sighed. He kept rubbing his head and holding his hand just praying he'd wake up soon. Carlos came around a little, but his head was hurting too bad from the stitches and the concussion, that he drifted back off with TK whispering sweet nothings to him. TK hated seeing him in pain, so he was glad he was resting some. TK let everyone know he was wake but really in and out from the pain but they could visit.

Owen and Sofia arrived about thirty minutes later. She wasn't crying, but her little face was still red and she was still sniffling. As soon as she saw him, she started crying again babbling dada as she tried to get out of Owen's arms. "Oh baby girl," TK chuckled getting up and getting her. "You're ok Sof," he chuckled, rubbing her back and kissing her cheeks. He settled back in the chair by Carlos's bed glad she hadn't seen him yet as she snuggled into his neck sucking her thumb. She let out the occasional hiccup sob making TK chuckle a little.

"Sorry dad," TK said once she'd settled.

"It's ok kiddo. I remember someone else being just as dramatic when he was younger," Owen laughed getting an eye roll and a smile from TK.

"Sofia Kennedy, Pops thinks we're dramatic," he cooed, rubbing her back. She just sniffled and closed her eyes, not loosening her grip on TK.

A few hours later Sofia was sitting on Carlos's bed patting his legs and babbling to TK. Carlos had slept most of the day, only rousing a little while Sofia was napping. The whole team had been by to check on them and when Grace offered to take her, Sofia threw another fit making TK sigh. "Thanks anyways Grace," he told her when she gave him a hug and told him to call if he needed them.

"Sof, what is your deal?" He cooed picking her up. She had always been easy going staying with someone else until now.

"She knows you're worried and can sense something is going on," Owen said from his perch in the room. "She'll be ok once you're ok TK."

TK just nodded letting Sofia snuggle on him some more. He softly talked to Carlos more and Sofia climbed back on the bed babbling to him. She kept looking at TK all confused when Carlos wasn't paying her any attention.

"Papa's just sleeping baby girl," TK said, picking her up.

"No no no no," she cried, reaching for Carlos again.

"Alright baby girl I think Pops needs to take you home," he told her, kissing her cheek. Owen knew how hard this was on TK and he felt for his son.

"Come on Sof, we'll go check on Buttercup," he told her trying to take her. She wrapped around TK tight crying.

'Sof baby," TK cooed rubbing her back giving his dad the saddest look.

"Ty," they barely heard over Sofia's cries. "Sof," Carlos said slowly waking up hearing his baby girl cry.

"Dad," TK said, pulling Sofia loose and handing her to Owen.

"Carlos babe? You ok?" He asked leaning over and rubbing his hair back as he gripped his hand tight. The few times he'd been in and out hadn't been enough for TK and he could tell this time he was fully waking up.

"Tyler," Carlos said, finally fully opening his eyes.

"Hey babe I'm here," TK said softly kissing him. “You hurting? How’s your head?” TK asked softly. He reached over dimming the lights as low as possible knowing they'd bothered him earlier.

"Sofia?" Carlos asked looking around. He knew he'd seen her napping on TK earlier, and he heard her crying but didn't see her.

"Dads got her. She's ok. She's just being stubborn," he chuckled.

"Or dramatic," Owen piped up bringing her back in.

She was still crying, mad TK had handed her off earlier. "Sofia," Carlos cooed, getting her attention.

Her big eyes settled on him before she rubbed them and reached for him. "Pap pap pap pap," she said for the first time trying to say papa.

"She just…. Carlos she said it," TK said, lighting up as Sofia finally said it. "Come here baby girl," TK cooed, taking her and kissing her face. He held her down for Carlos to kiss on her and she turned the tears off.

"Be easy Sof. We gotta take care of Papa while he's hurt," TK cooed at her when she tried wiggling out of his arms to get to Carlos.

Sofia was getting sleepy, but cried once again when Owen tried to take her. "Take her home," Carlos said, still sleepy himself.

"No. No way. I'm not leaving you here," TK said holding Sofia like a football swaying her back and forth to settle her. Her eyes were so heavy as she babbled sleepily watching Carlos. "She'll be asleep in just a few and dad can take her."

Carlos sighed but nodded. He knew if the roles were reversed he wouldn't leave TK. Twenty minutes of swaying later and Carlos told TK she was out. Her thumb was in her mouth and she was sound asleep. TK shifted her up to his shoulder to make sure she'd stay asleep. Once they were sure she was out, Owen carefully took her telling his sons he'd see them tomorrow.

TK slipped on an APD hoodie Owen had packed and sat back down by the bed. "You really scared me," he whispered, squeezing Carlos's hand tight.

"I know… I'm sorry," Carlos said trying to tug TK to him.

"You know I can't," TK chuckled leaning over and kissing him.

"You can break the rules just once," Carlos turned up the puppy eyes he'd learned from TK and it had TK caving. He crawled in the bed beside him and softly kissed his husband. "Never again, you hear me babe? Never again even if it got our daughter to finally say Papa."

"I know. Never again," Carlos said, running his hand through TKs hair before they both drifted off.

#mtngirl writes #tarlos #tarlos fic #srk ❤#911 lone star fic

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unfolded73 · 4 years ago

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My Heartbeat Shows the Fear (2/4) - schitt’s creek ff

Summary: A canon divergent story: Patrick gets into a car accident and it brings the Brewers to town sooner.

Notes: This fic will be posted in 4 chapters, every other day. There is some description of injuries, but nothing too graphic or life-threatening.

The title is from “Overkill” by Colin Hay, which thanks to the show Scrubs puts me in mind of hospitals.

Thank you to Amanita_Fierce for putting so much time and thought into betaing this fic - you made it so, so much better. And thanks also to @high-seas-swan for some helpful suggestions, particularly on that one scene that I tore apart and rewrote.

Rated Teen, this chapter 5714 words. (ao3)

Chapter 1

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 2

Patrick first became aware of a constant, irritating beeping noise. He blinked his eyes open, his eyelashes crusty with sleep. Oh right, he thought as he took in his surroundings. He was in the hospital. It seemed like no time at all had passed since they told him that he was supposed to go into surgery for his arm. Was the surgery already over?

He looked down and saw his arm enclosed in bandages and a splint. Guess that's a yes to the surgery, he thought. The pain he remembered when he’d regained consciousness after the accident was gone, fortunately, numbed by what he assumed were some powerful drugs. He would have almost preferred some pain to this complete numbness.

Patrick had thought of himself as pretty unflappable when it came to getting injured — as a teen he’d suffered cuts that needed stitches more than once, and the sight of his own blood hadn’t really phased him. Once he’d suffered a ligament tear and knee dislocation playing hockey, and the sight of his leg bending the wrong way had been pretty grisly, but he’d still managed to joke around with his coach while he was being carried off the ice on a stretcher. None of that compared to the sight of his own broken bone protruding through the skin of his arm. That had triggered a visceral reaction, a deep, inborn knowledge from his hindbrain that screamed: this is very wrong! The paramedic in the ambulance had covered it with a bandage to keep any more dirt from getting into the wound, mercifully shielding it from Patrick’s eyes. The pain had been intense, though. ”He’s in shock,” he remembered the paramedic saying as he swam in a viscous soup of cold sweat and nausea and agony.

Catching movement out of the corner of his eye, he looked over to his right side and saw David sleeping on the pull-out sleeper chair in the corner of the room. He was still in his clothes, but he’d taken his shoes off and lined them up neatly next to the chair. The sight of David’s shoes brought a swell of emotion to Patrick’s chest.

“David,” he said. His voice was raspy, and he was suddenly aware of how thirsty he was. “David,” he repeated, louder.

David started up, lines on his cheek from the pillow under his face and his hair sticking up on one side. It made Patrick want to hug him.

“You okay? Need me to call a nurse?” David asked.

“No. Is there water?”

David nodded, standing up and grabbing a cup with a bendy straw off of a small rolling table. He brought it over, carefully directing the straw so that Patrick could take it in his mouth and suck down some of the water. It made him feel uniquely helpless, being tended to like this.

“How long have you been here? What time is it?” Patrick asked.

David glanced at the clock. “It’s 2:30 in the morning.” He pulled his sleeper chair closer and sat on it, taking Patrick’s right hand in his.

Patrick frowned. “How long was the surgery?”

“A couple of hours. Do you not remember when they brought you out of recovery?” David asked, the first hint of a smile that Patrick had seen flitting over his face.

“No. The last thing I remember was them prepping me for surgery,” Patrick said.

Now David almost laughed. “In your defense, you were very high when you first came out of anesthesia.”

“What did I say?”

“Well, you swore a lot, which was very out of character. And you said I was handsome several times.”

“You are handsome,” Patrick said with a smile.

“And now all of your nurses know it.” David squeezed his hand.

“I’m sorry I don’t remember that.” It sounded embarrassing, but he still would have liked to see a video of it — of himself high as a kite and gushing about his sexy boyfriend to anyone within earshot. He squeezed David’s hand back.

“Mm, don’t be. You threw up and you kept saying your ears were ringing and I might’ve gotten a bit… testy… with one of the nurses when she said it wasn’t anything to worry about.”

“My hero,” Patrick sighed fondly.

“How are you feeling now?”

Patrick tried to assess how he was feeling. He had flashes of more memories — agonizing pain when he was in the ambulance and when they put in him the CT machine, but now there was little more than a dull ache. “Not bad, actually.”

“Yeah, you’re on the really good drugs,” David said, pointing up to an IV bag. “Morphine, I’m pretty sure. Also some antibiotics, but it’s the morphine that’s relevant here.”

“That explains it.” Patrick lifted his uninjured arm and tried to smooth down David’s unruly hair. “Thanks for staying here with me.”

“They would have had to drag me out of here,” David said, his voice cracking with emotion. “You scared me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It wasn’t your fault; it was the other driver’s fault.” David reached up and stroked a hand over Patrick’s forehead and cheek. “Do you remember the accident?”

Frowning, Patrick tried to probe his memories, and while he did so the automated blood pressure cuff around his arm filled up, squeezing his bicep almost to the point of pain before exhaling in a long hiss. “Not the impact. I remember flashes of being extracted from my car and put in an ambulance. Some stuff from when they first brought me in here.” He looked down at his arm. “I remember my arm looking really not good.”

David winced. “Yeah. Well, look at it this way: you’ll probably have a very manly scar when all this is over.”

“The car,” Patrick said. “I had all the products from the Mennonite farms in the car.” He knew insurance would cover the losses, but he still felt a stab of guilt that he’d caused some of their precious merchandise to be lost. It would take time to replace, time during which they couldn’t earn any money from the sales. He wanted to kick himself for not watching more closely at that intersection. He’d seen someone run that stoplight before. He should have been more careful.

Shaking his head, David said, “It doesn’t matter.”

“David—”

“Let me worry about it,” David said.

“You should go home and get some sleep.”

‘Not a chance. Besides, Alexis drove me here and I sent her home a while ago, so you’re stuck with me until she comes back in the morning.” He lifted Patrick’s hand to his mouth and kissed the knuckles. David’s eyes were suspiciously wet. “Also I may never let you out of my sight again.”

“I love you,” Patrick said.

“I love you more,” David replied, “as evidenced by me sleeping on this thing.” He pointed at the sleeper chair. “It makes me long for my bed at the motel.”

Patrick felt an itch between his shoulder blades, and shifted his body in an attempt to scratch it. A spike of pain shot through his side. Broken ribs, he remembered. Right. “Ow.” He chuckled uneasily. “This is going to put a real damper on our sex life.”

David leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Why don’t you try to get some more sleep? Your parents are going to be here in the morning.”

“My… what?”

His face cracking into a yawn, David answered, “I called your parents while you were in surgery. It seemed serious enough that they needed to know.”

Patrick’s heart began to race, which unfortunately he could hear echoed in beeps from the machines behind him. David noticed too, his eyes flicking up briefly to the monitors before looking back at Patrick’s face. Mind racing, Patrick tried to sit up, and another lightning bolt of pain kept him from executing that maneuver. “What did… what did you say?”

“That you’d been in a car accident and your arm was being operated on.” David’s face betrayed his confusion. “Patrick, I know you’re not super close with your parents but they needed to know that you’d been hospitalized.”

“Yeah, I know, but… David.” This was the worst case scenario, the thing that he’d hoped to avoid David ever knowing. If he could have just gotten up the courage to tell his parents the half dozen times he’d almost managed it, then David would never have had to know that he wasn’t out to them. That he was keeping his relationship with David a secret.

Well, there was no hiding it now. Patrick looked up at the ceiling and closed his eyes, steeling himself, before meeting David's concerned gaze. “I have to tell you something.”

David frowned. “What is it?”

“I’ve… I haven’t told my parents about the fact that we’re… together. I’m not out to them.”

“Oh.”

Patrick winced at the hurt on David’s face. “I wanted to tell them, I did, but then I didn’t go home for Christmas, and it’s just hard to… I don’t know how to say it, over the phone. I can’t get the words out.” He swallowed around a lump in his throat. “David, I’m sorry—”

“Mm mm, no. Don’t apologize.” David squeezed his hand and then kissed his fingers again, his facial expression difficult to read. The hurt wasn’t in evidence anymore, but perhaps because David was doing a better job of hiding it. “Coming out is very personal, and it’s something you should only do on your terms. Okay?” His mouth slanted to the side. “That’s why I brought this couple home from college one time and just told my parents to deal with it.”

Patrick chuckled in relief at the way David was trying to lighten the mood, but just as quickly his guilt rushed back to the surface. “I’m not ashamed of you, David. I promise I’m not.”

David’s lips quirked up. “Yes, that was obvious from the way you talked to the nurses about me when you were high.” He cleared his throat, sitting up straighter. “When your parents get here, I can just be… your business partner.”

His gut instinct was to say no. That wasn’t fair to David, or to what they meant to each other. But then he imagined it, lying here in a hospital bed, in pain and a little bit high on opiates, his arm in a splint, looking up at his parents towering over him and telling them he was gay. That he and David were boyfriends. It was an agonizing mental picture.

“Maybe… maybe just for tomorrow?” Patrick asked in a small voice. He sounded pathetic to his own ears. He looked up at the IV bag. “For one thing, I’d prefer to be sober when I do the whole coming out speech.” It was an attempt at a joke, but it wasn’t untrue. He didn’t feel like he was in any kind of mental shape to talk to his parents about his sexual orientation or his relationship with David right now.

Patrick couldn’t help but notice that David had pulled away from him a little bit, but he still had an encouraging smile plastered on his face. “That makes total sense. Don’t worry about that for right now. Just focus on healing, okay?”

Patrick reached out, putting his hand around David’s neck and pulling him in for a kiss. “I love you,” he whispered against David’s lips. “So much.”

David gave his shoulder a little pat when he pulled away. “Let’s try to get some more sleep, okay?”

“Yeah.” Patrick felt exhausted from just the half hour he’d been awake. “Okay.”

He watched as David resettled himself on the sleeper chair, twisting and turning before finally settling down and facing the wall. When Patrick finally fell asleep, his last vision was of David’s back, his shoulders rising and falling with his breath.

~*~

When the Lincoln pulled up in front of the hospital, David was outside waiting for it. He’d spent the rest of the night tossing and turning, noticing every time Patrick shifted in his fitful sleep, and then was woken for good at six in the morning when a new nurse came on shift and stopped in to check Patrick’s vitals and replace his IV bag. Patrick, meanwhile, was in more pain than when he’d awoken the first time, and he was in a mood to match. Alexis finally called to say she was ten minutes away, so David kissed Patrick’s cheek and told him he’d be back later and escaped.

He felt grimy, still in yesterday’s clothes, aware of his own body odor in a way that he absolutely despised. He walked over quickly to the car, wrenching the door open and collapsing into the seat.

“How’s Patrick?”

“Awake and coherent and cranky,” David said. “I told the nurse he needed to up his morphine, but they don’t listen to me.” He tilted his head back against the headrest and closed his eyes.

“You’re so sweet to stay by his bedside all night, David.”

He whipped his head around, looking for a sign that his sister was making fun of him, but her face was impassive as she concentrated on driving.

“Well, I couldn’t just let him wake up alone in the hospital. Can you imagine?”

“Yes, it happened to me in Singapore,” she said. “Also in Portugal, I think it was? Anyway. I’m glad he’s okay.”

“His arm is being held together with bandages and pieces of plastic and he’s in a lot of pain, but sure. He’s right as rain.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have left then,” Alexis said.

David gestured emphatically down at his clothes. “If I can’t get out of these clothes and into a shower soon, then I might literally have a panic attack.” He turned and looked out the window at the passing fields. “Besides, his parents will be here in about an hour, his mom said.”

“Meeting the parents, David!” Alexis said, and he turned in time to see her execute an exaggerated series of blinks that seemed dangerous to do behind the wheel of a car. “I guess you do want to be freshly showered for that.”

He huffed. “I have to open the store this morning. I’ll meet them later.”

“David, no,” Alexis gasped, “you should go back to the hospital. Stevie and I can cover the store for a few hours. I talked to her about it when I got back last night.”

“I can go back tonight after work. His parents will be there with him,” David said, his stomach in knots, exhaustion weighing heavy on his limbs.

“Why are you being weird?”

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are, David.”

Sighing, David rocked his head back to knock against the headrest several times. “Patrick’s not out to his parents. They don’t know we’re together.”

Alexis bared her teeth like that Chrissy Teigen meme. “Oh, David. Yikes.”

“I know. So being at the hospital means that I have to pretend to just be his business partner, and I don’t know if I have the emotional fortitude to do that right now when he almost died yesterday.” He turned and stared out the window again. “Can we not talk about it anymore?”

Alexis didn’t say anything, but she reached over and patted his shoulder in what he guessed was supposed to be sympathy. They drove the rest of the way back to Schitt’s Creek in silence.

By the time David was showered and dressed and had his hair in order, he felt almost human, and he was resigned to not seeing Patrick again until the evening. He stepped out into his and Alexis’s room only to see Alexis and Stevie standing there between the beds. They turned to him and folded their arms, determined looks on their faces.

He pulled up short, indignant. “What?”

“We’re going to look after the store for you,” Stevie said flatly. “You are going back to the hospital.”

“Patrick needs you, David,” Alexis said.

“Patrick doesn’t need me lurking around, making his parents wonder why his business partner is being so emotional,” David said, turning to the mirror and probing gently at the skin under his eyes. His lack of sleep was painfully obvious on his face.

“I’m sure he’ll tell his parents once he’s gotten his bearings. But in the meantime, he needs to know you’re standing by him,” Stevie said.

“That is a lot of sincere emotion coming out of your mouth, Stevie. Did you hit your head?”

“Fuck off,” Stevie said.

“You could also go by Patrick’s apartment and pick up some of his stuff,” Alexis said. “If he’s going to be stuck in the hospital, he’s going to need some comfy pajamas, and some changes of underwear. And a book or something.”

Okay, even David had to admit that was a good idea. He blew out a breath and crossed his arms, mirroring Stevie. “Are you sure you can handle the store?”

“Ugh, David, we’ve done it before,” Alexis said, stomping her foot. “Now go!” she said, shooing him out the door.

“Wait, I need you to do something else for me,” he said. “Can you contact the police and find out where his car was taken? I need to see if any of the things in it are salvageable.”

Stevie nodded. “We’ll take care of it.”

He made a quick stop at the apartment and packed a duffel bag for Patrick: pajamas, a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, underwear, a book from Patrick’s nightstand, and his toiletries from the bathroom. He packed Patrick’s phone charger, although he wasn’t sure if his phone had survived the crash. He started to put in Patrick’s favorite hoodie, but then he remembered that Patrick might not be able to get anything long-sleeved over his arm. Instead he grabbed the afghan from the back of the sofa, figuring that would have to do if Patrick was chilly in his hospital room.

The nurse at the front desk of Patrick’s floor recognized him, waving him through. It occurred to him that after yesterday, one of the nurses could inadvertently out Patrick to his parents.

David’s first impression of Patrick’s parents was of blue sweaters. I guess that’s where Patrick gets it, David thought as he hesitated in the doorway to Patrick’s room. The Brewers were standing by his bedside, his mother touching the top of his head affectionately. It was a perfect family tableau that he was loath to interrupt, but he couldn’t exactly linger in the hall all morning.

“Hey,” he said, stepping hesitantly into the room. “I’m David Rose,” he said by way of introducing himself. His eyes drank Patrick in, cataloging again the small cuts on his face. His instincts told him to go over to Patrick, to touch him, but he couldn’t do that now. Instead he stood awkwardly at the foot of the bed like an alien who didn’t know how to exist in the presence of humans.

“David! I’m Clint Brewer,” Patrick’s father said, holding a hand out for David to shake. David shifted his bag over to the other arm and suffered the overly firm handshake Clint gave him.

“And I’m Marcy. David, thank you for calling us last night.”

“Of course.” He turned to Patrick. “I went by your apartment and packed some…” He panicked. Was knowing where Patrick kept his things a tell? I mean, it wasn’t a big apartment; he probably could have figured it out even if he wasn’t over there all the time. “Some stuff for you.”

Patrick gave him a fond look. “Thanks.”

David fixated on the least intimate thing in the bag. “I grabbed your phone charger, but then I wasn’t sure if you even have your phone.”

“Yeah, I have no idea where it is. Still in the car, probably, and who knows where that is.”

“Stevie is looking into it,” David said.

“Thank goodness Patrick has you, David,” Marcy said, holding her hands out for the bag, so David surrendered it to her.

David met Patrick’s eyes, and then quickly looked away. “I’m just trying to be a nice person, Mrs. Brewer.”

Patrick snorted, suppressing a laugh.

A doctor David hadn’t seen before breezed into the room and picked up Patrick’s chart. “How are we feeling today, Mr. Brewer?” he said as his eyes scanned over the chart.

“Like I got hit by a truck,” Patrick muttered.

The doctor moved over toward Patrick’s injured side, forcing David to step out of the way. He watched with morbid fascination, unable to avert his eyes, as the doctor examined Patrick’s arm, then his side where presumably his broken ribs were. David caught a glimpse of terribly bruised skin under Patrick’s hospital gown, and he flinched. Pain was evident on Patrick’s face.

“No sign of infection; that’s what we are concerned with most with this kind of injury, so that’s a great sign,” the doctor said. He then checked Patrick’s pupils and asked him a few questions, making some notes before clicking his pen and putting it away. “Did they explain the surgery to you yesterday, Mr. Brewer?”

Patrick nodded. “Sure. That it had to be done quickly to prevent infection.”

“Right. We did what’s called an open reduction and internal fixation in this case. Metal rods were inserted which will allow your bone to fully heal.”

“Metal rods?” David asked, and then worried about how worried he sounded. Business partners shouldn’t sound so worried, he thought.

“How about that, you’ll get to set off the machine every time you fly,” Clint said, trying to lighten the mood.

“It’s routine,” the surgeon said, putting Patrick’s chart back on its hook. “If you continue to show no sign of infection tomorrow and the wound is healing well, we’ll go ahead and put a cast on it so that you’ll be able to move more freely.”

“Am I going to regain full use of my arm? I play baseball and—”

“And guitar,” David interjected, his stomach queasy at the idea that Patrick might never be able to play again.

The surgeon smiled. “Well, you’ll definitely be on the disabled list for the rest of the season, but there’s no reason that with a little bit of rehab you won’t be able to do everything you’re used to doing after a few months.” He gave Patrick a corny thumbs-up gesture. “Okay?”

“Yeah,” Patrick said. “How much longer before I can go home?”

“Well, that’s for the attending physician to decide, but I’d say tomorrow is a distinct possibility.”

“Thank you so much,” Marcy said as the surgeon gave them a wave and rushed out of the room as quickly as he’d rushed in.

David wasn’t sure what to do. There was no reason for him to stay now that he’d delivered Patrick’s belongings, and if he did stay, Patrick’s parents would probably wonder why.

“Is the store closed?” Patrick asked him. He had dark circles under bloodshot eyes, David noticed. He could probably use some more sleep.

“No, Alexis and Stevie are there,” David said.

“That’s your sister, and…” Clint asked.

“And my best friend.”

“Well, it’s very nice of them to help out,” Marcy said.

“Yeah.” David fidgeted with the hem of his sweater. “So I should go…”

“Do you have a hotel booked here in Elmdale?” Patrick asked his father.

“Not yet; we came straight here. I guess we need to find a place before we collapse,” Clint replied.

“Actually, I had an idea,” Marcy said, “if you don’t mind, sweetheart.”

“What?” Patrick asked.

“One thing you’re going to need when you get out of the hospital is food that’s easy to heat up. I was thinking we could stay at your apartment and I could use the kitchen to make you some meals and fill up your freezer before you get home.”

“Mom, you don’t have to do that—”

“Patrick, I want to. There isn’t a lot we can do to help, but I can at least do that.”

Patrick looked at David, and all David could do was shrug. It sounded like a good idea, actually, but he could also think of a few reasons why Patrick wouldn’t necessarily want his parents spending time unsupervised in his apartment.

“I can take them to your place, and… straighten things up.” David said, looking at Patrick pointedly to make sure he understood his meaning.

“Oh, we don’t care how messy it is,” Marcy said. “Don’t trouble yourself.”

“No, that’s a good idea,” Patrick said.

“It’s no trouble,” David added. “It’s on my way back to work. You can follow me in your car.”

“Thanks, David,” Clint said, clapping him on the back.

“Is there anything else we can do for you this morning, sweetheart?” Marcy was still at Patrick’s side, stroking his hair. David felt a stab of jealousy that he couldn’t stroke Patrick’s hair right now. Or kiss him.

“No, I’m good. I’m just going to get some more sleep, I think,” Patrick said.

“I… um… brought the afghan from your apartment.” David gestured toward the duffel. He wanted to spread it over Patrick’s legs, to tuck him in securely, but instead he stood to the side and watched Patrick’s mother doing it. Then he had to settle for a little wave as the three of them left Patrick’s hospital room.

“I’m just going to run to the restroom before we go,” David said, already pulling out his phone before he’d cleared the door to the men’s room.

911, he texted to Stevie. Need you to go to Patrick’s apartment and remove any evidence of our relationship IMMEDIATELY. There’s a spare key in the top drawer of the desk in the back of the store.

Stevie: why?

David: I’m bringing the Brewers over there. We’ll be there in 40 minutes.

Stevie: check. what should i be on the lookout for?

David: Photos, mainly. And there’s a shelf with some of my clothes on it.

He groaned to himself and then added, Make sure we didn’t leave lube out anywhere. Like the bedside table or on the floor next to the bed.

Stevie: gross. if I have to pick up a used condom, you’re going to pay.

David: What kind of animal do you think I am??? Although maybe also empty the trash. Thanks, I owe you.

She didn’t respond to that, but he’d have to assume she’d get the job done.

Stevie dispatched on her errand of subterfuge, he returned to find the Brewers in the lobby. “I’ll be driving an enormous black boat of a car; you can’t miss it,” David said to them as they walked out into the sunshine.

Once they were on the road, David’s attention bounced from the road to his speedometer to his rearview, making sure the Brewers were still behind him. By the time they got to Patrick’s apartment building, he was a tight ball of tension.

He had a text from Stevie waiting for him when he picked his phone up and looked at it. mission accomplished. who needs that many kinds of lube? im mentally scarred and also very curious.

“This seems like a nice neighborhood,” Marcy said, looking around.

David thought about the recycling bin he’d seen a couple of times outside the building that was full to overflowing with liquor bottles, and about the couple downstairs who had screaming fights on Saturday nights, but didn’t think either of those were anecdotes he should tell, particularly because they would indicate how much time David had spent in Patrick’s apartment already. Instead he just agreed noncommittally as he led them up the stairs.

It was only as he stuck his key in the lock that he realized that having Patrick’s spare key was one thing, but having it on his key ring with his keys to the store and his room key at the motel was quite another. He winced as he opened the door, hoping they hadn’t noticed.

“So this is Patrick’s place,” he said unnecessarily, his eyes straying to the mantel and then to the desk. Stevie had done her job — the photos of him were gone. His eyes raked over the shelving next to the bed and zeroed in on the shelf where he’d had a couple of sweaters and a pair of jeans. It was empty.

“It’s not very big, is it?” Clint laughed. “But Patrick never has been someone who kept a lot of things.”

David wanted to agree vehemently — the only reason the apartment didn’t look much more spartan was David’s influence — but he bit the inside of his cheek and nodded. “So here’s the key,” he said, unclipping it from his keyring and handing it over. So much for not drawing attention to his key ring, he thought. “There’s a grocery store, Brebner’s, that’s not far away. And you can get fresh produce at our store,” he added, which made Marcy’s eyes light up. “I should change the sheets for you,” he said, turning to the bed.

“We can do that, David. You don’t have to trouble yourself.”

“Nope! It’s no trouble,” he said, and he knew he sounded manic, but there was no way on God’s green Earth he was going to let Patrick’s mother touch the sheets that were currently on Patrick’s bed. “I help my friend Stevie change sheets at the motel sometimes,” he said as he quickly stripped the bed. “I’m very good at it.”

“Oh, Patrick mentioned the open mic nights,” Clint said, pointing at the framed poster on the wall. “Did you know he used to play at an open mic night in high school?”

David finished stuffing the dirty sheets into the hamper and grabbed a clean set from the shelf. “Mm hmm, he mentioned that.”

“I’m glad he’s picked it back up. I think he’d stopped playing guitar for a while before things ended with—” Marcy stopped herself, like it just occurred to her that she maybe shouldn’t be gossiping about her son’s past love life with his business partner.

“Rachel?” David supplied as he stretched the fitted sheet out over the mattress. Marcy came over and grabbed the other side, looking relieved.

“I wasn’t sure if you knew about that,” she said, putting her corners of the sheet on as David did the same on the other side.

He nodded, remembering the worst week of the last year (until this one). “I do.” Then felt like he needed to explain knowing it. “All those hours of working together, you end up telling each other things.” Although not, apparently, that he isn’t out to his parents, David’s brain supplied.

“Thanks for all your help today, David,” Clint said. “We really do appreciate it.”

David stifled a wince and nodded, trying to approximate a smile.

~*~

“Marcy, you don’t have to start cooking right this minute,” Clint said once they had the groceries unpacked. “You’ve barely slept in the last 36 hours.”

“I want to at least get a lasagna put together,” she said, organizing the ingredients for her meat sauce on the counter and then opening cabinets, looking for an appropriate saute pan.

“Well,” Clint said with a sigh, “give me the garlic and onion and I’ll prep them for you.”

Marcy fiddled with the knobs on Patrick’s stove until she had the correct burner heating up. “His store certainly was beautiful,” she said, thinking back to their brief visit that afternoon. “I never imagined that Patrick could put something like that together.”

“Well, he did tell us that he mainly handled the financial side of things, so I suppose the look of the place is down to David.”

“I guess that’s true.” She unwrapped the package of ground beef, worrying her lip between her teeth.

“He’s going to be okay, honey,” Clint said. “Don’t worry.”

She laughed. “Don’t tell a mother not to worry, Clint Brewer.”

She put the ground beef into the hot pan and began breaking it up with a spatula.

“I’ll tell you another thing,” Clint said. “I think David might have a crush on our son.”

Marcy frowned at him. “You know, it’s not okay to assume someone is gay just because they’re… you know. Effeminate.”

“It’s not that.” Off his wife’s skeptical look, he conceded, “Okay, it’s not just that. It’s the way he looks at Patrick. You didn’t see the way David looked at our son?”

Marcy blinked, trying to remember. She’d been so focused on Patrick, she’d barely looked at David while they were in the hospital room with him. “I guess I didn’t.”

“Well, I think there are some unrequited feelings there,” Clint said.

She mulled that over while she continued to put her meat sauce together. It wouldn’t be good for their business relationship if what Clint said was true. She wondered if Patrick knew, and if so if it made their relationship awkward. David seemed like a respectful person; surely he wouldn’t do anything to make Patrick uncomfortable at work.

Marcy was still worrying about it when she was brushing her teeth in the bathroom that night, beyond exhausted and ready to collapse into bed. She wasn’t sure what impulse made her reach out and open Patrick’s medicine cabinet.

“Hasn’t Patrick been saying he wasn’t seeing anyone?” she asked Clint as she got into bed next to him.

He was already half-asleep. “Yeah.”

“Well, he’s got a mostly empty box of condoms in his medicine cabinet,” she said.

“Marcy, you shouldn’t snoop.”

“I didn’t mean to!”

“You didn’t mean to open his medicine cabinet?” he yawned.

“It’s a big box.”

“Marcy.”

“Okay, sorry.” She curled up on her side.

“Maybe he hasn’t had any relationships serious enough to tell us about,” Clint reasoned.

She didn’t want to have to think about her son that way, having casual, meaningless sex instead of a real relationship. That wasn’t what she wanted for him. It was why she’d encouraged him to patch things up with Rachel in the past. And while she now believed Patrick when he said things were really over between them, she still hoped he would find someone else who would love him the way he deserved to be loved. All night as she slept, her hopes and worries for her son monopolized her dreams.

Chapter 3

#schitt's creek #schitt's creek fic #schitt's creek ff #david x patrick #david x patrick ff #david x patrick fic #my fic

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divine-noire · 5 years ago

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Mononucleosis Awareness Post

So I caught Mono participating in Hot Girl Summer™ (jk jk lmao) but I did get Mono, and this shit is not a fucking joke. If you feel like you might have it, please go to the doctor. Over the past 4 weeks, I have been going through literal medical hell from complications. I’m gonna list the symptoms I’ve had and if you feel like you might have it, go get looked at. I thought Mono was something only horny ass teens got in high school playing spin the bottle, I’m 26 (27 next month) and was NOT expecting this shit at all.

Fatigue

My first symptom that something was wrong was fatigue. This is not normal, everyday fatigue. This is actually waking up and feeling like the world is ending when you take your first step, fatigue. I couldn’t keep my eyes open. While driving, I put my emergency break on at red lights because I was afraid I would fall asleep while at the standstill. At work, if there were no calls, my head was down (luckily, my boss is only here twice a week so I could get away with this). At home, I was in bed by 6PM and when you do sleep, it’s immediate. There is no gradual lulling off to sleep. It’s face-meet-pillow-meet-morning-alarm type of sleep. But I was still tired no matter how much I slept so I started using No Doze to counteract the effects. At first, it was fine, but even then, I still had the underlying fatigue. It got so bad, I drove over a friend’s house in Greenbelt, MD which is about an hour and a half away with rush hour traffic, using every bit of energy I had in my body to get to her, because she said she would take care of me, which she did. But by the time I pulled up to her house, I basically almost fell out of the driver side door when she opened it for me. That is not an exaggeration, that is the level of exhaustion I felt from just driving that far without sleeping. We thought I had the flu or something flu-like, so she gave me fluids and alot of Day & NightQuil. It made the symptoms lessen, but it never made them go away.

Sore Throat

At the beginning, my throat merely felt scratchy. This lasted for about 3 days, before I knew it, my voice was gone and my throat was in so much pain I gave up talking. The pain is not akin to Strep Throat, if you’ve had that before. It is actually worse. My throat was swollen as a symptom of the virus, but it graduated into its own infection of severe Tonsillitis. It was so severe that I actually began having trouble swallowing from the amount of swelling that it caused. I had to receive a steroid injection in my butt to counteract the swelling and start methylprednisone (which wasn’t strong enough and I had to go back for regular prednisone 20mg). I couldn’t eat anything without pain, so I stuck to drinking a lot of fluids and ice water. Ice water became my guardian angel because my throat was in a constant state of burning pain. I also grew exodus on the back of my throat, past my tonsils, as a result of the infection in my throat, and had to gargle salt water like crazy everyday to get them out. The exodus hurts, it is hard and feels like cement on the back of your throat and it makes the Tonsillitis 10x worse than it already is. I didn’t have a voice at all for 12 days, I had to use a dry erase board for all interactions (it’s quicker than typing on my phone.)

Nausea

Now my case may be different because the doctors keep telling me my nausea shouldn’t have gone on as long as it did and that I need to go see a Gastroenterologist ASAP but that’s a different story for a different post. Nausea was my worst and most persistent symptom to date. The kind of nausea you may feel will be persistent. I woke up nauseous to the point of my mouth salivating as though I were about to vomit everyday for about 2-2.5 weeks. This never settled. There was never a time my mouth was not salivating, I had to begin keeping paper cups at my desk to spit the residual saliva into throughout the day because it never subsided. One day, I had a salad for lunch from Panera even though I wasn’t hungry, I knew I should try to eat something. (By this time, my throat had made some progress and I could swallow some whole things.) I immediately regretted that decision when I lay in bed at midnight holding my stomach like the world was ending. I was so nauseous that I couldn’t get myself together enough to even get out of bed. The thing that makes the nausea symptom so bad (for me) is that it never made be actually vomit, it just created the sensation of needing to. Eventually, I broke down and stuck a straw down my throat just to alleviate the symptom a bit and threw up the salad, and it didn’t even look like it’d been digested properly. That made the nausea go away for the night, and after that I gave up eating anything solid hoping that would prevent any future nausea, spoiler alert: I was wrong. My salivating mouth picked up right where it left off, it was as though all I went through the night before didn’t even matter. My stomach was empty and still nauseated. That night, the nausea was so bad that I just knew something was off and I drove myself to the ER (Note: I drive myself to the ER that is less than 10-minutes away all the time to save money on an ambulance, if you feel you are not safe to drive, dial 911, it is better to just pay the ambulance than cause an accident and make your situation worse than it already is.). When I got there, I was beyond exhausted, nauseous, dizzy, I just felt like I was dying. The doctor brought me back, took my vitals, asked the usual questions. I told him about the nausea, the Mono diagnosis, he said he wanted me to get a temporary room while he ran some tests. I got a room and a nurse came in and gave me a shot of Zofran for the nausea that did absolutely nothing. It was so bad that when he came back in, I asked for Ipecac or a straw to induce vomiting again. Alarmed, he said they wanted to avoid me vomiting and gave me an additional shot of Zofran. That helped that time, but I still just felt overall terrible. The doctor came in later and told me my potassium levels were extremely low, explaining the extreme fatigue and dizziness, that my liver was swollen from the Mono, and that the nausea was alarming and he would be admitting me for treatment. I was shocked that this virus had done such a number on me. My throat had even worsened and was now even more swollen and painful than it was before (I hadn’t gotten the 20mg prednisone script yet.). I spent 2 days with an IV in my arm, eating mushy foods and sleeping in the hospital. I had to take off work because I was in no shape to even drive there, let alone get anything done. After the 2 days went by, I actually felt back to my normal self! I was so fucking happy to exist and not feel like dying after weeks of wanting to that I went home and started cleaning my room. I had let it get atrocious from not feeling well or feeling like doing anything besides sleeping. Shortly after I began, the fatigue kicked in, the only symptom to never leave, and I sat my ass down and watched Rick & Morty with Sebastia and went to sleep instead, which was probably the safer bet. Fast forward 8 nausea-free days, and guess what’s back??? It’s tolerable now, but still an extreme nuisance. I get my Zofran prescription and it does didly fucking squat to alleviate the nausea. I call the Urgent Care that diagnosed me and ask if there’s anything stronger for nausea and they tell me all the stronger shit will have me bedbound and loopy. Bills gotta get paid so we can’t have that. So that night, in a moment of nauseous desperation, I took double the dosage of the Zofran to alleviate the discomfort. Now, I understand I shouldn’t have done this, but I was DESPERATE and afterward, I felt great. It was the first time the medicine had done wtf the doctors said it would do and the way it was supposed to: quick, fast and in a motherfucking sprint. So I stupidly called the Urgent Care to ask them about the nausea medicine again (I have such a good relationship with this UC for some reason, probably because I hate my primary.) and told them what I’d done the night before and that I was now out of nausea meds and needed a refill before it came back, which was all true. Jessica, the nurse I always saw, was alarmed and spoke to the doctor on duty there, and told them about what I did. Then they cut me off and said to go ask my Primary for the refill because I’ve been utilizing them way too much (long story short). But she also said that I shouldn’t need that much Zofran and something else is going on and I need to be seen by a Gastro. That $40 co-pay appointment is still pending. Andddd I’ve been nausea-free for about a week now, but as I type this, my mouth just began salivating so it looks like I’m gonna be dealing with that again soon. Fuck.

Dizziness

My dizziness didn’t come full force until about 4 days ago (Week 4). I was out at a shopping center getting groceries and while I was parking at a nearby Dunkin Donuts, the world legit started slanting. I felt like I’d been drugged all of a sudden. My skin felt cold and clammy, everything felt out of focus and I immediately needed to lie down. Luckily, it came right after I’d put my car in park and had the opportunity to put my seat back and do so. I waited about 10 minutes maybe, and then I felt ok enough to get out and go get some food because I thought I was just hungry because I hadn’t eaten yet. Even standing in line and waiting for the food afterward was difficult. I had to sit down or else I’d fall down. I got back in my car and ate and laid down again, went back to the store to get eggs I forgot to grab before, and on the walk back to my car almost walked into another parked car. Of course, people saw and probably thought I was drunk or something. I was embarrassed but didn’t have the motor skills energy to explain the situation of feeling like I was in 2 bodies at once. This symptom has come and gone as it pleases, but luckily after a good 2-hour nap that day when I got home, I felt alot better.

Poor Appetite

While battling this virus, I have lost 10 pounds and still counting in the past 4 weeks. While it’s great to fit into clothes I was once too thick to get past my thighs, it is not the way I wanted to lose the weight. In the beginning, I always felt full no matter what, which made me not want to eat, combined with the nausea, it made eating something I just wasn’t in the mood to ever do. This went on for weeks, which caused the weight loss. I learned later that my swollen liver pressing against my stomach is what caused the sensation of fullness, hence, not ever feeling like I should eat. Now, my appetite has returned, and I’ve been eating nothing but starchy, fatty nonsense my diet never would’ve allowed before I got sick. And even with all the newfound calories I’ve been non-stop digesting (seriously guys, pizza 5 days straight, bread bowls, bacon egg and cheese croissants, cheesecake, donuts...) I’m still shedding pounds. My Gold’s Gym Membership is gathering dust because I can’t go workout with my body still always in fatigue-mode and it’s probably just not kosher to do with this kind of virus. My mom said I should celebrate for now until it becomes a cause for concern later, but I think I should probably be concerned now since the earlier you find something out the better health-wise. I lowkey did some research and think I might have Hepatitis-C from the virus, which is curable, but sucks all the same if I’m right. I inherited my mother’s extremely poor immune system, so I really wouldn’t be surprised. I’ll post before and after photos of my weight loss separately, don’t want Tumblr turning me into the Face of Mono™ because of this post.

Swollen Lymph Nodes

This was one of the lesser symptoms that went away by week 2-2.5. They are definitely sensitive and noticeable. I found that icing them alleviated a lot of the discomfort and made it tolerable, but overall, these were the least of my worries.

If you experience any of these symptoms or think you may have Mono, definitely get yourself checked out. They can do a rapid test at any Urgent Care or ER and let you know during your visit if you have it. This shit is not a joke. I’m still dealing with the symptoms right now and have no inclination of when they will be gone. The literature says anywhere from a few weeks to a year, I’m praying for the initial option but I have no way of knowing for sure. I say all this to say, pay attention to and know your body, guys. You only get one.

#black health #black girls #black women #mono #mononucleosis #sick #viral infection #black tumblr #black women health #flu season #long post

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danni-dollarsign · 4 years ago

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A Critical Look at “Pokemon: Sword and Shield” From a Casual’s Perspective...

A/N: Hey! if you’re reading this, then thank you! I don’t know why, but I thought to myself, “Hey, wouldn’t it be cool to write a pointless essay about a Pokemon game?” And then I realized today was the 1YR anniversary of SWSH, so I figured I might as well just do it! So even though I’m late and probably nobody will really care to read all this nonsense, I wrote it! If you’re interested in all the analyses of PKMN SWSH, but aren’t too invested in the technical mumbo-jumbo used by the more hardcore fans, then maybe you’ll enjoy this.

Also, it’s worth mentioning that I’m literally just some rando on the internet saying my opinion. None of this should really be taken SUPER seriously - it’s mainly designed to provoke thought rather than try to argue any specific idea. So if I say something that you don’t agree with, you got two options: 1) Draft a constructive comment or DM to me and we can discuss calmly like adults, 2) shake your idea and ignore this. There’s really no need to get heated up over a video game essay, of all things, so let’s not do that lol.

But other than that, yeah! If you’re interested in more stuff like this from me (in-depth analyses of Pokemon games from the perspective of a low-key casual), lemme know! I’d love to chat with anyone about this awesome series.

So, without any further ado, let’s get into the essay (warning: it’s like ~8k words).

Introduction...

Welcome to the wonderful world of Pokemon! Love it or hate it, Pokemon has had a huge impact on popular culture in countless countries in a number of different ways, sparking memes, dreams, and happiness everywhere! It holds a very special place in my heart - Pokemon was a game that I got to share with my two older siblings, was one of the first fandoms I got into, and was a big reason as to why I grew to love creative writing so much after writing a couple fanfictions for the games. I’ve been playing Pokemon ever since my brother gave me a copy of Pokemon: Ruby and have been a devoted fan ever since. While I may not be super into the strategy and damn near mathematical aspects of gameplay, I’d like to consider myself a relatively knowledgeable fan with enough extra knowledge to give a look at one of these games from a casual, yet analytical view. So what game other than the newest title, Pokemon: Sword and Shield, with its release anniversary being today? In this casual online essay, I hope to describe all my thoughts of Sword and Shield (which I’ll shorten down to just “SWSH”) from the perspective of the everyday Pokemon fan.

General Gameplay...

Many top-title games of Nintendo are best known for their simplicity: in Super Mario Bros, you’re a mustachioed red guy jumping on monsters to try and save some random princess (who may or may not be in this castle); in The Legend of Zelda, you’re a green elf-looking guy slashing wildly at monsters with a sword given to you by some old guy in hopes of defeating some ultimate bad guy; and in Pokemon, you’re a child wandering around the region catching monsters who also accidentally saves the world before becoming the very best (like no-one ever was). And while the games themselves have grown from that initial stylistic simplicity, some have lost that creative in-depthness in favor of being playable for children. This is probably the biggest issue with the newer Pokemon games as of late.

Regardless, let’s look into the playability of SWSH.

It’s played like your regular Pokemon game; you’re a kid who journeys to become the Champion of Pokemon Battling with your friend, catching monsters known as “Pokemon” with pocket-sized balls dubbed “Pokeballs.” But I’m sure you’re all aware of that information, and are instead asking “Well, what’s the deeper plot?” Yeah, no, that’s it. You’re a kid catching Pokemon to become champion - oh, and you also accidentally save the world from a power-hungry businessman - but that’s neither here nor there.

Plot aside, the game is a bit barebones. It’s pretty linear gameplay (literally linear - the map of the Galar region is almost exactly a straight-line waltz from Postwick to Wyndon, which is a bit weird after dealing with the giant, sprawling maps of earlier generations) where you travel from place to place, beating gyms and catching ‘mons, before getting into a couple scuffles and becoming champion. For an RPG-styled game, it comes off as much too simplistic for older fans (I’d even reason that it’s too simplistic for younger players, as well). While I will say, I don’t exactly miss the days of hopelessly wandering around a pixel city, trying desperately to figure out how to move on to the next town because the answer to the puzzle is hidden in this giant area that my little peanut-brain couldn’t figure out at the time. But it is a bit demeaning to get “Hey, do you know where to go?” and “Hey, follow me so you don’t get lost!” and “Oh, yeah, want another tutorial on how to easily catch Pokemon for the fourth time in a row?” every two seconds in a city where there’s only two places to check out.

But we can’t really discuss the gameplay of Pokemon without discussing the highlights of the region. Ever since the transition from 2D to 3D, Pokemon games have begun a trend of gimmicks - which I like to call “battle enhancers” - that they use to add uniqueness to their games. X&Y had Mega Evolution, Sun and Moon (and USUM) had Z-Moves, and now we have Dynamax! As we all know, battle enhancers are the strategy by which the player uses some extraterrestrial/magic stone to physically enhance one pokemon at a time for a certain period of time - in the case of Dynamax, the pokemon either grows in size or changes in form, gaining the ability to use special type-based attacks for a duration of three turns.

Honestly, I think it’s a pretty fun mechanic! Dynamax combines the good components of both Z-Moves and Mega Evolution - new forms, awesome moves, and a ticking clock. It adds a bit more strategy to the battle enhancer, where the player actually has to plan out who and when to Dynamax (though it’s really not that hard - most everyone will save it for their ace or the pokemon with the type advantage at the very end of the battle, because that’s what you do). But it’s fun and creative, making the battle a bit more exciting when you see your beloved ace become gargantuan on a field while the audience chants in excitement. Initially, I was skeptical of the battle enhancer, but once I threw myself into the game and really got into it, I felt it was fun and cool for the region. My feelings were further improved when I learned that Dynamax was inspired by the idea that the Nintendo Switch had the potential to be played on the TV as well as in a hand-held mode. The idea of turning pokemon “big” on a “big-screen” is really just so cute to me, really. Overall, it’s a fitting concept that is paired well to the game when everything is considered.

But when you look beyond the Dynamx experience to find more content in the game… there’s really not much else. Many people (including me) were ecstatic to hear about the free-roam areas in SWSH - the Wild Areas. Here, you can do all the fun grinding stuff that makes Pokemon games a bit more challenging and fun - hatching eggs, shiny-hunting, running around in circles, Dynamax dens, etc. But when looking at other Pokemon games, that’s really it. Let’s examine Pokemon: Sun and Moon, for example. This game really shines not just for its refreshing setting and compelling plot-line, but also for it’s amount of cute and quirky mini-games to be enjoyed for a good while outside of the main story. Pyukumuku Chucking, Mantine Surfing, the Alolan Photo Club, Ultra Warp Ride Travel - a good handful of mini-games that appeal to different kinds of people! All of these mini-games aren’t just tossed in there, either - they have a fitting place in the culture of the world and add to it, rather than just reiterating it. But when you look for mini-games in SWSH, you won’t really find anything aside from just battling. Sure, there’s the Battle Tower, as well, but I’ll personally say that I’ve never been a fan of the concept of post-game NPC battle buildings. For a hardcore player, they might be fun, but as a casual who can’t devote the time to really dig into understanding how IVs and competitive breeding works, they’re really no fun. Not to mention that nothing is really being added or developed with these battle buildings; they don’t add to lore, they don’t add to the culture of the region, you don’t even really gain anything from it - they’re pretty much just places to battle the occasional familiar face and that’s it. While I’m sure plenty of people adore these facilities in the games, I’ve never been too partial to them (I’d even prefer those god-forsaken casinos over another goddamn battle frontier).

But my biggest problem lies with the release of the DLC. While I’m not against the idea of DLC in general, both The Isle of Armour and The Crown Tundra left a bitter taste in my mouth when I started thinking about the issue of playability in SWSH.

I have always been more invested in the storyline of Pokemon games rather than the battling aspects. Usually I’ve always just gotten through the main story, then wandered around to find extra post-game content or mini-games, and then moved on to other games. And that’s not necessarily a bad thing - I just figure that the games have served their purpose for me upon completion, so rather than bore myself wandering around and doing things that don’t interest me, I go find another game that has more story-based content. That being said, I finished SWSH in less time than any other Pokemon game (I’d say somewhere around twenty hours, complete with me running around in circles like an idiot before rushing through content intermittently); as a result, I was no longer actively playing the game by the time the DLC was announced.

I’ll be honest and say that when I learned about all that was being offered in both sets of DLC, I felt a bit betrayed. I’m well-aware that Nintendo is a corporate business, and therefore will always prioritize financial gain over their fans’ lasting enjoyment of their titles - that’s just a fact of life. But I couldn’t help but feel like I paid a bunch of money for the bundled titles, only to play a game that hardly could be considered worthwhile or satisfying without added headcanons or fan-works, and then get told that extra content is available that may or may not add satisfaction to the experience that’s already long since ended for me. It was just a bit disappointing - and I’m not talking about the whole “Dexit” deal (I actually was on-board with the idea of having no real National Dex - I felt it added realism to the games and would force players to get to know the new Pokemon instead of just choosing the same team they always have since Gen 1 or whatever). My gripe is that I paid for a whole game, wasn’t satisfied with the result, only to hear later that the content that I might have been missing is available to pay for? That’s incredibly annoying. Not to mention that I was further disappointed after learning about the contents of the DLC, but we’ll get into that later.

Overall, the playability of SWSH is very basic, but can be enjoyable if you suspend belief and just enjoy it for what it is. When it comes to storyline, it’s not much of a game, and doesn’t sport much post-game content besides battling.

Immersion and Ambience...

Many of my friends can attest that I tend to like silly, fantastical concepts because I personally love to throw myself into the universe being offered to me. Pokemon is really no different - the games have always sported a very immersive experience for me thanks to the combination of interesting regions and evocative music (especially the music).

I think that most every Pokemon fan has a specific region, city, and music theme that sparks a plethora of nostalgic emotions to the point of near tears. For me, that’s always been Pokemon: Platinum, the Twinleaf Town theme - just staring into the rippling reflection of the pond by the player’s home, listening to that beautiful synth clarinet playing that nostalgic melody - it makes my heart beat with so much fervent passion that I hardly have the words to describe it! And I think that sense of nostalgia - regardless of whether or not those memories are old or new - has always been a strong-suit for Pokemon games. They always have the ability to inspire such deep emotions in me and other alike in a variety of ways, further adding to the ability to immerse us into the game’s world. And whether your favorite area is as simple as Twinleaf Town in the Sinnoh region, or as agonizing as Rock Tunnel in Kanto, it’s the spirit of certain cities/towns/routes that further add to the immersion of the world in question. But how well does SWSH hold those values? Spoiler Alert: Not very well.

SWSH, in the end, is still a Pokemon game - so the setting is very vibrant and colorful and everything that can hold my attention for long periods of time. But the problem arises when one begins to progress through the game and continuously forgets what’s where and where’s what. A lot of the map is painfully basic (again, due to the literal linear nature of the Galar region) and the cities themselves kind of lack their own real originality. There was an attempt at unique cities that’s become iconic of the Pokemon franchise, but it doesn’t really stick. I think most people would agree with me that the only real memorable areas in the main game were Slumbering Weald, Ballonlea, and Spikemuth, and each of these areas have their own set of problems that also make them a bit difficult to fully enjoy. At their core, most all Galarian cities have the same basic set-up: basic green plants (if plants are in that area at all), the same brick roads that lead either to the gym or to a route leading in/out of city to another city, and a giant gym/key building in the center of it all. And that’s really about it. No real interesting buildings except for gyms and Rose Tower (and I guess technically the hotels), no extraneous locations that aren’t directly related to the plot or to gimmicks - it’s very bare-bones and really can take you out of the experience.

In a hard contrast, I’ll give the example of Generation 1’s region set up - every city has its own personality that also matches the feel of the region as a whole. Every city is based on colors, and each city is themed after that, respectively (i.e. Vermillion City, the city of sunsets themed around the color orange, is home to the Pokemon Fan Club and the kick-ass electric-type gym that initiates feelings of excitement; Lavender Town, the noble town themed around the color purple, is home to the Pokemon Tower and spooky spirits that inspire feelings of somberness and reticence). Obviously, this isn’t very realistic, but the trick isn’t to replicate reality - it is to inspire reality. The Kanto region is incredibly creative, and therefore is easy to immerse oneself into the world because it’s become a world we are actively interested in. We know that it could never truly be real or plausible, but that hardly matters when we are so enthralled with the colors and set-up and feeling of the towns. We don’t really get much of that in Galar. It probably isn’t such a great idea for your final city - being Wyndon - to feel blank and lifeless when compared to minor cities in the region. And even when we find cities that hold that uniqueness we desire like in Spikemuth or Ballonlea, there’s really no other reason to be there longer than just beating the gym. It’s sad, really. Spikemuth is such a interesting, creative-looking town home to such cool characters, and yet there literally is only one path to get in and out of the town - the town isn’t even given small houses to investigate like literally every other city in the region. It’s a waste of potential! The fact that I can’t investigate such a promising setting that inspires me really takes me out of the world, reminding me that this is just a video game in which you move from Point A to Point B. It’s no longer a fantasy world for me to explore, but instead a line at the DMV to get my Drivers’ License. The only real good thing about this is that fanfiction writers get so much free-reign when it comes to writing about the city - the only thing we really learn about the city is that it’s underfunded and gloomy and that’s literally it. I would have really liked to see more inspired cities around the region where things outside of the main plot can be done, but hopefully this is just a problem we’ll see in this region.

Probably the most important aspect of immersion (in my opinion) is the music. With the potential to make or break a game for me, I hold a lot of expectations on the music found in video games (I’ve been classically trained in music since elementary school, and have always had a fondness for video game music). Pokemon music has always been some of the most inspiring pieces of art in my life - whether it be the kickass battle suite of Champion Cynthia, or the somber piano melody of Emma’s Theme, the music of Pokemon has always been the first thing I notice and analyze whenever playing the latest title. That all being said, I have quite a few notes to make in regards to the soundtrack of SWSH.

I’ll start with the pros, first. Generally, every main title has had its own feel when it comes to the soundtrack - DPP was jazzy and smooth, Sun and Moon was based on popular Hawaiian music meshed together with classic Pokemon synths, RSE was all about the horn section (trombones and french horns all the way!). SWSH, at the end of the day, isn’t much different. The region is inspired by the UK, so it’s no surprise to discover that the soundtrack was inspired by popular British Rock. As a result, a lot of themes went really hard, keeping a hint of individuality even when some battle themes hosted similar instruments. The biggest appeal of the soundtrack, I believe, was found in the little moments, namely the cheers of the gym battle themes. I think it’s safe to say that most people get super hyped when they hear those rhythmical chants coming to life whenever in the final leg of the battle, right when you begin to Dynamax. That’s amazingly exciting, never failing to suck me into that exact moment to gather the power of God and anime to defeat my opponent. While I wasn’t totally rocking out to every single song that came on, I was pretty satisfied with the music of SWSH, overall. It’s not too bad, and hosts a few bops that I still seek out to get my blood pumping.

But, as to be expected, there are plenty of cons when it comes to the soundtrack of SWSH. I could go over this for hours and hours, detailing complex definitions of music theory and basic song comprehension, but I’ll just make this nice and simple: it was really bland.

Note that I said “bland” and not “bad” - the music is fine in my opinion, I just wasn’t feeling the same feelings as I had in previous Pokemon titles. It all felt like Pokemon music, but not much else. It was like remembering hints of a memory long-lost, but you don’t really care about to dig deep into your mind for context. Towns had music, routes had music, pokemon and characters had battle themes, yada yada yada, nothing really to write home about. If I had to pick a song that honestly, truly invoked emotions beyond “Oh it’s battle time, now”, it would have to be the Battle Tower Theme, and that’s most likely because it was written by someone else entirely (Toby Fox, also known as the creator of Undertale and composer of super hard-hitting jams). And the worst part is that I never would have even been able to hear the Battle Tower theme because I hate battle buildings (which is more of a personal problem, I know, but still). Honestly, I would have preferred hearing that theme as compared to Champion Leon’s battle theme - I feel like his champion theme was very bland and lifeless, simply holding all the required elements of a Pokemon battle theme just because that’s what has to happen. It’s uninspired, faceless, and corporate, only to be completely foiled by the unique blast of energy found in the Battle Theme, which just screams “Prove that you’re the best!” over and over to me (also known as a big theme in the Pokemon games, especially in SWSH).

That’s not to say that every other theme in the game was terrible. I much enjoyed Marnie and Piers’ battle themes, but for a different reason. As we know, Piers and Marnie host a more “punk rock” style when compared to literally everyone else in-game, a trademark of Spikemuth citizens. With their occasionally cold and prickly (no pun intended) personalities, their themes go a bit harder into rock-land as compared to characters like Hop or Bede. There’s no conflict of style there - it’s “punk” with “rock”, loads of guitars and bass with a hint of synths to keep that Pokemon flare, and fits a bit better in the setting of the world. Mild conflict arises when we start looking at characters who aren’t rockstars or idols - let’s look at Bede’s theme, for example. While it really isn’t a bad theme (it’s actually, dare I say, a bop), I wouldn’t exactly say that the resulting pieces fit neatly together like they do for the Spikemuth duo. Bede’s theme requires a lot of synths to accentuate his more flamboyant and immature personality, but also holds ties with the rock guitars while also trying so desperately hard to sound like a Pokemon song. Now, I don’t think “Pop Synth Rock” is anything bad, per se; I just feel like the added rock elements didn’t do much to add to the musical representation of our cliche jerk-face “rival”. It feels like the rock elements were an after-thought rather than a planned layer of musicality. I could really say the same thing about Hop’s theme, but then I would have to re-listen to Hop’s theme because I always forget what it sounds like even after listening to it a second before.

A big problem is that not many of these themes hold lastingly memorable motifs/melodies, which is a personal pet-peeve of mine in games where the music is highly esteemed. In pretty much every battle theme (except the generic pokemon encounter theme, which is the same melody in every Pokemon game, only with variations added to fit the music theme of the region) is just an on-going strip of notes that sound nice when playing the game, but if you tried to pick out the specific melody-line of that character, it’s a bit of work to really find anything. Let’s look at a more concrete example: Lusamine’s battle theme from Pokemon: Sun and Moon is up on my list of most memorable battle themes, and will do well without the extra influence of young me’s nostalgia seeping in like it would with earlier generations’ battle themes. Lusamine, as we know, was the elite antagonist of the game, being the leader of this esteemed Pokemon protection group who later is revealed to be using Pokemon for her own demented goals of perfection. Almost immediately, the player hears the signature accents of the harpsichord playing the prime motif before the piece digs into a full orchestration. It doesn’t sacrifice anything for the sake of “sounding like a Pokemon song”, nor does it sacrifice anything for the sake of keeping with the musical inspiration. Instead, it focuses on being exactly what it needs to be - a musical representation of Lusamine, hosting orchestra-based instruments (piano, violas and cellos, horns, violins, light pad synths, etc…). Most anyone can pick out a handful of memorable motifs from her theme (the main horns melody line, the harpsichord melody line, the mid-section cello and piano melody line, etc…), and those remain in our unconscious. So, it’s no surprise that when she becomes the “Mother Beast” later on, when the player hears hints of those signature melody lines becoming distorted in the madness of the new battle theme, it invokes a particular emotion that fits elegantly with the subject matter of the plot right then. In short, it’s musical storytelling done right. In SWSH, we don’t have that extra omph of emotionally-nostalgic motifs; instead, we just get songs that play in the background of this video game, and that’s really it. If you don’t like the song, good news - you’ll probably only hear it once or twice, depending on who the NPC is. If you do, then you’re out of luck for the very same reasons. This game lacks a very basic hint of soul to its soundtrack, which is really such a jarring idea especially when you realize that they paired up with a composer who arguably has mastered the idea of musical motifs (Fox).

This really isn’t just SWSH’s problem, either. I also went through a similar heartbreak in S&M during the final stretch of the main game; after battling Lusamine and saving the region from the threat of Ultra Beasts (more or less, anyway), we the player go to challenge the champion, who is revealed to be Profession Kukui since there really is no true champion for the newly-made league. It’s hard to go from an exciting, powerful battle theme like Lusamine’s to some generic, cardboard-cut-out version of a champion battle theme for Kukui. It’s hard to invoke any sort of emotional appeal when there’s no real inspiration to be felt in the music; with no emotional connection, there is no emotion. It’s, once again, just music that plays in the background of a video game. A similar experience happens in SWSH with the player’s match against Champion Leon; though we have the potential to gain an emotional connection to a Leon Theme motif, we don’t get that. Instead, we just get music that is programmed to be exciting for our championship match that will undoubtedly change our lives forever. Bland, boring, anti-climatic - all for the sake of coloring in the lines. This has been an on-going problem in Pokemon games for years in which the Championship Battle Theme is less interesting than the Evil Team Battle Theme, which probably isn’t a good idea. It’s annoying when your villain has a better theme than the literal strongest trainer in the region - it ruins the chances of likability for the region’s “good guys” and overall is anti-climatic when it is finally time to become champion.

Overall, the ability to immerse someone like me in a game is very important when it comes to retaining players. While SWSH isn’t the worst Pokemon game when it comes to immersion (considering the fact that I actually beat the main game, which I can’t say for other main Pokemon titles…), Game Freak certainly could stand to learn from the game’s shortcomings.

Creature and Character Design...

The monster design is arguably one of the most controversial topics when it comes to any Pokemon game. Some people only care about the designs of Gen 1, others accept everything but Gen 5, and a select few could rant for hours on the stupidity of literally every Pokemon design in the franchise. Regardless, the design of the Pokemon native to the Galar region is an important topic of discussion when analysing the potential for enjoyment of the game. After all, I’m an artist who loves drawing all my favorite characters as well as my favorite Pokemon, so understanding the designs of these beloved figures is vital to understanding the game in general. For sanity’s sake, I’ll only be discussing new Pokemon introduced in this region, and will be ignoring all previous pokemon that aren’t regional variants.

Overall, the designs of the latest Pokemon are satisfactory. Because of my tendency to always suspend belief in fantasy works, I’ve very rarely had much to hate about Pokemon designs (not even in Gen 5, though I don’t particularly like any of them aside from the game cover legendaries). SWSH didn’t really bring much to the table when it comes to brand-new Pokemon, but the ones introduced are fitting and interesting: the Dragapult line, all three starters (even if I did laugh for literal hours at the discovery of Cinderace’s typing), Wooloo and Dubwool, Yamper and Boltund - just to name my top favorites. And I was totally invested in the designs of the game cover legendaries, Zamazenta and Zacian, since they held cultural relations with the region’s inspiration and therefore had actual meaning within the game besides just being cool mythical creatures. Nothing really outright bothered me with the designs or pokemon choices in this game; as I mentioned earlier, I was okay with the idea of no National Dex for this region, and that all the pokemon allowed in this game matched with the region well-enough.

But, of course, it’s not without faults. I found there to be a substantial lack of original legendaries in this game - we only have three real legendaries to catch in the main-game, four if you consider the DLC. We had a similar problem in Pokemon: Sun and Moon, but it was later amended with the introduction of Ultra Beasts (which can technically be regarded as legendary Pokemon, albeit from another dimension and not technically Pokemon). In SWSH, we are only given the option of catching more than two legendaries if we buy the DLC - this is remarkably disappointing for those who are interested in seeing new, unique Pokemon designs. I know many fans are constantly frustrated with Game Freak’s tendency to overuse Gen 1 Pokemon, but the fact that nobody is bothered by the running trend of being able to easily catch a bunch of previous games’ legendaries is beyond me. It’s essentially the same thing, overly relying on the fanbase’s sentimental nostalgia rather than moving forward to create new creature designs. I know for a fact that so many people would have been excited to catch Pokemon with cultural significance (maybe like elf Pokemon that resemble that of Seelie/Unseelie fairies, or more Pokemon that resemble chess pieces, or maybe more Pokemon that follow a theme of medieval artifacts - there are many possibilities), so the fact that they skimped out in favor of making people pay for nostalgia is ridiculous to me. This was a majority of the reason why I rejected buy any of the DLC content - why would I pay for Pokemon I’ve technically caught before? I mean, I guess it can be more for the kids who have never encountered the older legendaries, but then again, wouldn’t it be more beneficial for your game to have Pokemon that actually represent the new region? Instead of just stealing other games’ legendaries for the sake of saying that you have them, they could have just worked a little harder to design maybe three or six more cool legendary designs and centered those guys around the two DLC locations instead of just having Calyrex for The Crown Tundra. At the end of the day, it’s really just a cash-grab; the only reason I could ever see myself understandably buying the DLC for SWSH would be because I wanted to interact more with my favorite NPCs, but then again, I can just look at screenshots on Twitter and feel just as satisfied.

But not all is lost in terms of designs. Now let’s get into my favorite design portion of this segment and discuss the NPCs.

First, we’ll dig into the rivals. Personally, I really enjoyed the rivals of this game; while Pokemon is definitely running on a formula, I still was able to find enough about the three rival characters to genuinely enjoy their presence whenever they came on screen. I suppose we can expect to keep seeing this new Pokemon Trainer Rival Formula: Kind of Annoying but Too Sweet to Hate BFF Rival (Hop), 2 Edgy 5 U Rival (Bede), and Some Pedo’s Waifu Material Rival (Marnie).

Hop is arguably one of my favorite Pokemon rivals of all time (right up there with Gladion from S&M). He’s one of the only Pokemon characters to get a realistic character development over the course of the game’s playable story, which really humanizes him and makes up for his occasionally annoying personality. Over the course of the game, Hop goes from silently residing in his brother’s shadow to learning to stand on his own without needed any outside validation; much to my surprise, it’s not some half-hearted transition. Hop doubts himself during the challenge, as evidenced not just by his dialogue but in the way he actively changes his team to try and be more competitive like everybody else. I remember feeling so heartbroken in realization that Hop stopped using his beloved Wooloo, which is rightfully paired up with the excitable boy. The idea that Hop uses Wooloo, a normal-type cute Pokemon that generally wouldn’t be used in a competitive team, really adds more dimension to his character; when he learns to enjoy himself instead of letting his doubts overtake him, he returns to using Dubwool and his favorite team, demonstrating how he would prefer to have fun as himself than be someone he isn’t. I found that to be a really wholesome theme to his character, one that we haven’t really seen in a Pokemon game yet - it was a pleasant surprise! Hop is sweet and kind, always wanting to motivate the player even when he’s in his own internal turmoil. With all that added with his adorable babyface and goofy/awkward preteen disposition, he really makes for a likeable rival character.

The next rival to be introduced is none other than our classic Mean Boy rival, Bede. He’s a character the fanbase is a bit more accustomed to due to previous titles’ rivals (i.e. Green/Blue/Gary Oak from in R&G/B, Silver from SGC, technically also Gladion from S&M…), so are quite a few expectations placed on his character as a result. Also true to the typical Pokemon Jerk Rival, he has a complicated homelife (he comes from an orphanage, as we later learn) and has a similarly complicated parent-child relationship to the leading antagonist of the game (in this case, Chairman Rose). Bede constantly assumes himself to be better than he is and isn’t afraid to be a total prick about it, choosing to bully Hop upon winning battles against him to boost his own inflated ego (though there’s hints pointing to Bede actually having rather low self-esteem). All things considered, I liked Bede as a character about as much as one can like a mean rival archetype, but I was more than pleased to discover his transition to a more likably mean-spirited character when he later returns to the game to challenge the player after being disqualified from the challenge. While we’ve had a likeable mean rival before (namely Gladion), Bede is something of his own entity with how he actually has an attempt at character development that leads him to a mini-redemption near the end of the game. He’s really the first mean rival to have a transition from total jerk to slightly-peeved tsundere, which was probably a good idea on Game Freak’s part so that we wouldn’t be left with a character we downright hated after the way Bede quite literally destroys Hop’s confidence. It’s nowhere near as impressive as Hop’s character development (which isn’t super impressive to begin with, but let’s ignore that fact for a bit), but it’s still interesting to see in a monster-catching game about being the best you can be.

And then, of course, we get to the cute-girl rival, Marnie, also known as the place where I get a bit mad again. I’d like to say that I absolutely love Marnie; she has an adorable design and interesting personality that captures my attention whenever she has screen time. But she serves one purpose in this game, and one purpose alone - being the main cute girl rival of the game. Marnie has the potential to be a similarly interesting rival (cute design that meshes “punk” with “cute”, has a wholesome and fun dynamic with her gym leader older brother, uses a Pokemon that isn’t considered to be a “competitive” choice as her ace, has a cool/cute personality…), and yet we probably only talk to her about five times over the course of the main game. Little is done with her character - in fact, the only real thing she does in the game other than becoming the next dark-type gym leader is that she helps the player sneak into Spikemuth after the gates have been shut by the remarkably-harmless Team Yell. I don’t think I’m alone in saying that I would have loved to have seen more done with her character. With the boy rivals being more fleshed out than her, it leaves a sour taste in my mouth because the female rival is the one left with a blank personality (and I’m not just saying that because she hardly smiles - that’s really one of the only things we get about her that gives her an actual personality). My frustrations are further exacerbated because this has always been an issue in Pokemon games, in which the girl rivals are so barebones for seemingly the only purpose of serving as some neckbeard’s waifu that they can input a personality they desire despite the fact that she’s canonically a minor. Why put in the time to give dimension to Hop and Bede, but not Marnie? And we know for a fact that Game Freak has to recognize the lack of personality given to Marnie, especially since they had previously come out with Lillie’s wonderfully sweet character arch in S&M and USUM. Personally, I feel that it was because they didn’t feel like having a more punkish girl character who also had traditionally feminine-coded interests (she’s known to have been distracted during the gym challenge by the boutiques) and ultimately decided to just not give her any further personality other than that, perhaps fearing that it would dissuade the gross creeper fanbase from latching onto her. But that’s really just speculation, so don’t take any of my nonsense too seriously. Really, I’d just rather we had a girl rival with more personality to match the other two rivals so it wasn’t so annoyingly unbalanced.

Moving on from the rivals, we get into the designs of the League Staff of the game. In most other Pokemon games, I’d never really been too interested in the gym leaders; they had always been more of minor bosses, just faces that you saw for a couple of seconds before pummeling their ‘mons and moving to the next city. But in this game in particular, there was a sudden transition from simple puzzle master to a full-on celebrity figure. I really enjoyed this! It was so nice to actually have some information on the gym leaders other than what type they sported; suddenly, they have personalities and interests - they become real to the player. Not to mention that there really is a gym leader for everyone to enjoy, thanks to their unique personalities and styles.

I’ll be a bit honest and say that some of their clothing designs are remarkably stupid for even an anime-based RPG game (I mean, I know we joke about Leon’s terrible sense of fashion in the fanbase, but can we just pause and ponder what Piers’ wears? I mean, a leather jacket with spandex? Metal boots and a work-out tank??? What is he wearing?!), but it isn’t exactly distracting. In Western cultures in particular, we can see a trend towards the glamourization of the “athleisure” style, or athletic wear designed more for everyday use rather than just working out. It was kind of fitting to see this be the primary style for the gym leaders, who can basically be described as hierarchical sports stars. Weird? Sure. But in the context of the world, it all fits together, and once again adds to the immersion aspect of the game.

Looking at our main antagonists, they are designed quite well. Chairman Rose is designed to be quite easy and fun to hate (at least for me) - he’s an important-looking businessman who’s very impressed with himself, paired up with a beautiful yet terrifying subordinate woman who does most all the hardwork for him (...actually, they kind of remind me of an antagonistic Cl. Mustang and Lt. Hawkeye from Fullmetal Alchemist…). They also had noteworthy battle themes that popped a bit more than other battle themes in the game.

While they hardly count as antagonists, I’d like to also make a brief mention of Team Yell. They’re more annoying than anything, which is a trend that I’m not too sure how I feel about yet. It was definitely more likable coming from Team Skull, that’s for sure. I would have liked Team Yell doing a bit more damage, having them be a bit more unruly and controversial before evening them out with the whole emotional appeal of them cheering on for Marnie in hopes of saving their ruined town. But they weren’t too terrible in my opinion.

I could talk for hours on the champion of the region, too, Champion Leon. He’s a really fun and charming character overall, less of the supremely wise and powerful champion that we’ve seen in older gens and instead being a more quirky but worthwhile opponent on the path towards the crown. But I definitely preferred him more as a character than as a champion; even though his team changes depending on your starter, it’s not too challenging of a fight if you know what you’re doing, especially when you immediately know what his ace pokemon is (something we don’t really learn in other gens about the champions). While I’m sure the idea of a powerful but transparent champion can be done, Leon doesn’t really stand up as a powerful trainer when compared to other champions in the franchise. But he’s definitely still a fun, interesting character concept that I am grateful for in this particular game.

When it comes to the designs of the primary NPCs and Pokemon, SWSH continues to talk that line just above mediocrity. Not too bad, not all that great, but definitely not something to be forgotten. I’d reason that the primary strength of this generation lies within the characters that are introduced.

Uniqueness vs. Status as a Pokemon Game...

In regards to the uniqueness - how well this game stands on its own as an individual concept rather than just another Pokemon game - I’m a bit divided. On one hand, I’m a bit saddened by the watering down of content and constant reliance on concepts from older games. But I can also see that SWSH introduced a lot of interesting ideas that have inspired so many fans for this generation. And while yes, this gen didn’t have much to offer in terms of new Pokemon, new scenarios, or new lore, I do think that it does hold its own when compared to the other games in the main series. New characters are introduced to the player, all of which having good (and bad) traits that allow for lots of fan-created content with their essence; a new look into a brand-new battle enhancer that requires a different strategy than those of previous battle enhancers; a new culture found within the Galar region that can inspire many more thoughts and theories on the Pokemon world as a whole in a number of ways. We cannot pretend that SWSH isn’t an influential game just because it wasn’t ground-breaking; even with my extreme distaste for the Black and White games, I still admit that they led to important decisions and ideas that led to the creation of games I did enjoy. So, as its own entity, I think that Pokemon: Sword and Shield really has a lot of offer and would probably be an amazing game for a younger player who’s just getting into the Pokemon universe.

But I think that a lot of us long-time fans can agree that this game doesn’t quite match up with the others in terms of giving those real “Pokemon game” feelings. The problem with big-titles like this is that the company tends to lose sight of what really makes a franchise so influential isn’t the stuff found at face-value. It’s not the creatures or NPCs or game mechanics or design or any of that garbage - it’s the feelings we get when all of those things reach that perfect harmony. It’s the rumble in my chest whenever I listen to that famous intro-sequence of my old Pokemon: Ruby game; it’s the fire in my eyes when I went back to challenge Pokemon Trainer Red for the tenth time that night back in my old Pokemon: Heart Gold game; it’s the tears I cried when I watched the only interesting character, N, leave my playable character after his emotional spiel following the defeat of Ghetsis in my long-since abandoned copy of Pokemon: White. At the end of the day, Pokemon is more of an emotion I get rather than a game I play, and I think this is an idea that few people can recognize for themselves. And while I’m aware that I literally just spent several thousand words bagging and praising this game for all those face-value aspects, I also know that when you add that extra little bit of care to your work, go a little further with a character you know someone will adore, or try something new with that new battle theme, there comes a sensation that goes beyond that of love for a silly fantasy game. I’d like to think it’s something akin to inspiration.

Conclusion...

In conclusion, Pokemon: Sword and Shield is far from perfect. With a number of faults and disappointments, I can understand why a lot of fans were less than interested in giving this game the time of day. But I also want to say that this game deserves to be understood and appreciate for what it is, for what it’s done. Who knows what sort of new ideas this game has inspired? Whether it be in the name Pokemon game or someone else’s passion project, I am confident in the potential that this game has to bring someone’s dreams to fruition. It already has inspired so much amazing fan-content from the community; after so many years of being away from the fandom, SWSH was the game that drove me right back, giving me the drive to once again indulge in my middle-school days of sketching out my latest comfort character or writing out a million headcanons in a way-too plot-heavy story. Many fan-creators in this community feel the same as me, I’m sure, so it would be untrue of me to say that this game was anything less than what it was: a fun, simple game that prides itself in its characters and potential rather than complex combat mechanics or some corkboard-plot nightmare. It’s a game meant to be enjoyed, so we must remember to find our enjoyment wherever it can be found. For me, Pokemon can’t really do much wrong, but also is held up to a level of expectations that I can’t quite understand even for myself. This, at the end of the day, is a video game from my all-time favorite franchise; so long as I can find enjoyment there in it, then it’s worth it. In a world filled with nihilism and cynicism, it’s nice to visit a land where you’re wise to try and be the very best like no-one ever was, to be the next best Pokemon Master.

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