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1d1195 · 1 year ago

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Dolcezza IV

Read Dolcezza here

A little fluffy, a little angsty; hope you like it! :)

~8.6k words

“Who’s Harry? He’s cute,” she smiled excitedly.

Shaking her head, she sighed. “Harry’s a friend.”

“A cute friend,” she whispered peeking over at him still chatting with her father and sister.

Her face warmed and she shook her head. “Stop.”

“Don’t know many boys who would drive them home to their crazy family and spend the day baking and running errands.”

She nodded. “I know.”

“Yes Mom, I know. I understand,” she listened to her mother at the other end of her phone. She piled her stuff in the back of her car and rubbed her forehead. Slamming the door shut, she continued listening to her mom ramble on and on. “I’ll be there in an hour and a half,” she assured her rolling her neck from side to side. A day off was rarely a day off for her. The peacefulness of her personal day was over. It was onto the chaotic portion which would no doubt leave her feeling unrested and anxious.

Thinking about her book, she heard her mom’s continued chatter. Her complaints of how no one helped her around the house and “did I tell you about who I ran into at the grocery store?”

“Mom! I have to go!” She longed for the book she was reading only an hour prior. Thought about the deep breathing from the online yoga class she followed from YouTube only two hours prior. Ending the call, she sighed heavily again, squared her shoulders, and fell into the driver’s seat.

With a frown, she looked at the empty restaurant, lights off, closed sign hanging in the window. She didn’t even get to see Harry before she left, and she really wanted to. Since Harry took care of her, she ached to see Harry more frequently but was trying to keep her distance so as not to overwhelm him. The last place she would ever want to see her stalker was at work (not to mention it would be worse since she mostly worked from home). For anyone, it was uncomfortable when someone was flirty and there was no escape (because it was their job to be there).

She should have just texted him. That’s what Harry gave her his number for right? To be friends?

To flirt, hopefully. She thought to herself.

But since he had given her number, she hadn’t been the first one to text. Call her ridiculous or playing hard to get. Part of her couldn’t believe someone as handsome and wonderful as Harry wanted to chat with her. She never wanted to bother him, and she imagined that if she started talking, she would never want to stop. Harry would need space and...

Well, it spiraled pretty quickly.

So, all their conversations over text had been through Harry sending the first message.

Since she helped that busy night a few months back, she made her way to the kitchen at least once a week. Antonio enjoyed her help and found her adorable and helpful in a way that he couldn’t find in many employees. “Don’t get me wrong tesorino, I love my employees. They’re family. But they’re also in high school and college and they don’t care nearly as much as I do about this place.” She overheard him tell Niall, “It’s nice to depend on her as a tenant, someone I can trust Leo with, and someone that cares for the restaurant like she’s worked here her whole life.”

It made her feel warm, and she loved helping. It had been nearly routine; working from home, going to the gym, running errands, eating eggplant and spaghetti, and smiling at Harry through the kitchen window. It was so nice to relax and be around people who liked her company. People who didn’t make her feel crazy like her family.

It was nice to relax and not worry about being followed for the first time in a really long time.

I could send a simple, “good morning, have a good day” text. She thought. It was harmless. She could do that.

Right?

Sighing, she decided against it. Maybe he was sleeping in. She tried to remember what day he had off that week but was coming up short. Maybe she would come say hello at the end of her long day if she wasn’t too exhausted. But it was unlikely that would be the case at the end of what would be a long, long day. There was always tomorrow.

Plus, if Harry ended up texting her back, she would probably crash her car to answer him. Shoving the key in the ignition, she was trying to be positive, but it was hard to do so when she was not going to see Harry and she was not looking forward to the rest of her day off.

The feeling was only amplified as her engine did not turn over. She groaned. “No, no, no…” she whined. She knew very little about cars. Every year she asked her parents to renew her AAA membership for her birthday. She was ever practical, and it was a huge joke among her extended family. It was something she hated paying for herself but wouldn’t be caught dead without.

Right when the car didn’t start, she should have just called AAA. But instead—maybe because she was already frustrated and anxious about dealing with her family—she got out of her car to look at the mechanical engineering, as if she even knew what she was doing. With her phone’s flashlight, she peered under the hood, like she would suddenly know what she was looking for. She readjusted the strap of her purse to keep it from falling into the greasy, mechanical things and getting disgusting. Always one to take the time to learn a new skill, her dad showed her how to change a battery, check her oil, and replace various things in her car once she got her license. She was praying the battery was somehow disconnected. Because even if she had called AAA right then and there, it would ruin her whole schedule. Her whole day. She would let her family down and that would...well that would be really bad for her psyche.

But at the heart of it, it really made no sense for her to look under the hood. The thought of seeing her family tended to wreak havoc on her mind and make her do things like this.

A gust of wind made it’s way down the road. It blew her hair in her face and as she tried to blow it back out of her mouth, she heard the thunk of her car door closing. She bounced at the sound because it scared her. Making her hit her head on the open hood. “FUCK!” She hissed, rubbing the sore spot. She hurried to look at the door that had betrayed her. “No, no, no,” she whined reaching for the handle, but her gut already told her it was too late.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me!” she groaned rubbing her eyes with the heels of her palms. After thirty seconds of silence and utter disbelief, she began smacking the window with the open palms of her hands repeatedly. She made grunting and grumpy noises and kicked the tire for good measure. “You stupid piece—!” She hissed and continued to beat up the inanimate object.

Harry saw her from his own car when he pulled into the parking space nearby. Niall looked up from the passenger seat while Harry checked to make sure he was safely and adequately in the spot.

“Oof, that doesn’t look too good,” Niall murmured, just as she began attacking her car.

Harry hurried to throw the car in park and get out of his vehicle.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Harry rushed seemingly from nowhere. He quickly raced to her, pulling her by the hips swiftly so there was small distance from her vehicle to keep her from hitting it and preventing her from self-injury. “Principessa,” his voice was so soothing. Even though she was livid and frustrated, she couldn’t help but feel like he was speaking directly into her soul, his voice warm and perfect.

The few times she ended up in Dolcezza’s kitchen, Harry was somehow kinder to her than when they were interacting elsewhere. His voice was gentle as he walked past her with a hot tray. “Behind y’principessa,” or “watch y’hands, kitten, this one’s hot.” Something of that nature. Even when it was busy as could be, he would gently place a hand on her lower back and walk by her making her stomach flutter.

Harry touching her and physically pulling her away from her vehicle, on top of that soothing warm voice, almost made her feel remorse for attacking her car. “The car is gonna win, every time, kitten.” His hands now gripped the top of her arms holding her in place even though she strained ever so slightly against his hold to return to her frustrated movements. Niall was close behind. He tried all her doors to see if they were unlocked. But no dice.

Her face crumpled and Harry thought he would cry if she did. “This is the worst day off in the history of days off,” she moaned.

Harry released the top of her arms, skimmed down the length of them and rotated her hands for injury. All the while she explained the awfulness of the last ten minutes, all the things she had to do and why she was upset that this was the time her car had chosen to break down. Niall frowned at her story, no doubt feeling bad for her, but Harry could see the delight in his eyes. “Well, tesorino, don’t count today out just yet. Harry also has the day off. I’m sure he would be happy to drive you to your mum’s,” he clapped Harry on the back of his shoulder. “I’ll keep an eye on your car. Make sure they get your keys safely in my hands and your car to the dealership.”

Harry smirked awkwardly and coughed as Niall volunteered him. Of course, he would do it, but he knew that she would be upset.

It was evident by the way her skin pinked with the suggestion. The thought of Harry doing something kind for her without any return on his time investment? “No way,” she snorted almost bitterly. “This is an all-day expedition,” she shook her head. “I can’t ask you to give up your day off for me.”

This was great for Harry on fifty different levels, minimum. He would get to see her in her element, talk to her about a ton of stuff, meet her family, and see her hometown. There wasn’t a better day off to be had. Except she looked infuriated, and Harry wasn’t sure he was exempt from her frustration. She texted rapidly on her phone. “Could y’go another day, kitten?” Harry asked softly. She shook her head. Tears were definitely filling her eyes at the mere thought. “Okay, so let’s go,” Harry shrugged and walked toward his car. She frowned.

“You really... don’t mind?”

“Not at all.”

“Harry,” she whispered so quietly, and he turned around as he held the passenger door open. Her heart nearly stopped. She forgot why she was so mad. She wasn’t sure anyone had held a door open for her like that. Ever. “It’s... a lot,” she told him.

He smiled looking back over his shoulder. “Then we better get moving.”

She stayed put and felt so utterly awful, but Harry was waiting. It felt wrong to keep him waiting. Especially when she could only imagine what the day would bring without him really knowing.

“Did you desperately need anything in your car?” Niall asked, trying the handle once more.

“Yeah, like all that baking stuff,” she rubbed her forehead not having any kind of backup plan for that scenario. Harry frowned and closed the door to the car and started for the restaurant. At least Harry could come up with a backup plan for her.

“Why are you bringing baking stuff?” Niall peered into the backseat to see a bag of groceries and three cupcake pans, ignoring Harry’s path to Dolcezza’s front door.

“Uhh…” she swallowed hard. Obviously, whatever the reason was not something she felt like sharing. At least not right then. Harry frowned.

“It doesn’t matter, Principessa, don’t worry. Ni, can y’help grab some stuff,” he said opening the door to the restaurant. In a matter of minutes, she had replaced the groceries and metal pans that she had brought from her apartment.

“Niall, can you give them to Antonio when you get the car open?” She asked her eyebrows pinched together in worry.

He nodded. “Course, tesorino,” he smiled. “Don’t worry about a thing.”

“I would wait and ask Antonio for his key, get my spare car key, everything...but—”

“Principessa,” Harry said pressing a hand on her lower back making her feel like she might pass out. It took every ounce of restraint to not let the shiver threatening to roll through her body viciously for him and Niall to see her completely lose her mind over Harry’s touch. “S’okay. He’ll understand. Let’s go,” he smiled opening his car door again for her to sit in the passenger seat.

“Thank you,” she said gratefully. Harry rolled down the window as he started his car.

“It’s what friends are for, tesorino,” Niall winked at her. She was only a half hour behind schedule. An easy comeback.

She nodded. Other than Eleanor and Louis, she wasn’t sure she knew what that was like. “Well, still,” she said softly. “I’ll make it up to you,” she promised.

Niall smiled gently at her and caught Harry’s gaze very briefly before he pulled away from the curb.

Once on the highway, she made a call to her sister, and explained the problem. At the same time, Harry called Niall and gave specific instructions not to let her keys out of his sight. Overcome, once more by the worry of someone stealing her keys and finding her apartment upstairs. Throwing that thought out of his mind, he told Niall that he had to pass the car one off to the tow truck driver and hold her other ones until they got back. He also left him in charge of making sure her car was properly taken care of, and he was to text Harry if there was an issue. She spent the first hour of the drive near silence. Instead, texting and scrolling on her phone. It didn’t upset Harry, but it did worry him. “Do y’need anything kitten? Wanna stop for coffee or...?”

She shook her head. “Maybe later,” she answered.

He nodded. “Alright.”

It very much seemed like she didn’t want to talk. But right as the GPS alerted her that they would arrive in half an hour she started to squirm ever so slightly.

“Y’okay, Principessa?”

She sighed and put her head in her hands. “My family is a lot,” she told him. “Like just chaotic and a little crazy; it’s embarrassing.”

He frowned. “Okay, I’m... I’m sorry that y’feel embarrassed. But... every family has something, y’know?” His voice was gentle and quiet. Encouraging. “M’not going t’like... say anything.”

She nodded. “Thank you,” she looked at her lap, inspecting her fingertips.

“Plus, if... if you came from them... they’re already the most wonderful people I’ll ever meet,” he shrugged as if that wasn’t the sweetest, kindest thing she’d ever heard. He didn’t get a good look because he didn’t want to take his eyes off the road, but he hoped her cheeks were that pretty pink color.

“They’re good people...but...” she sighed.

“Kitten,” he reached over and put his hand on her squirming fingers. He gave them a reassuring squeeze. “S’okay. I promise,” he whispered.

She took a deep breath and looked out the window. Harry glanced at her briefly. It was the safest he had ever driven in his life—and he was already a safe driver. But even though he was desperate to hold her hand the way he was right now; he couldn’t help but feel bad about removing his hand from the two-position. She was the most precious thing he had ever had in his car and wanted to keep her safe no matter what—even if he really wanted to keep holding her hand and assure her it would be alright.

She looked at Harry in her peripheral. “My sister is going to fall in love with you.”

He smirked. “M’a bit older than her, yeah?”

“She’s eighteen,” she sighed. “But we think she was born as a thirteen-year-old.”

“S’a bit young for me,” he winked. She squeezed his hand as she smiled softly. Harry wondered if she knew she did that but didn’t want to bring it to her attention.

“Also,” she took another deep breath. “They don’t... I’ve never told them about the person following me,” she mumbled. Harry very nearly stopped the car.

He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Oh?”

“They would...” she shook her head. “I don’t know.”

“Isn’t y’brother a dispatcher? Does he want t’be a police officer?”

“Yeah...but...” she shrugged. “I don’t know. Please don’t mention it, not that I think you would but—”

“Kitten,” he frowned. “S’a pretty big thing t’hide from your family.”

“Well,” she was skimming her thumb along the back of Harry’s hand, and he had never enjoyed hand holding so much in his whole life. “It would just worry them,” her voice was quiet. Like she wanted to tell them. Maybe she wanted them to worry about her. “I don’t... they don’t need to worry about me,” she mumbled. “It’s not a big deal, really. You know?”

It was. Every time Harry saw her, there was the smallest part of his brain thinking about how someone was so obsessed with her that he watched her every movement for over a year. So much so that she had to move. It wasn’t a way to live, and she didn’t see it as a problem. Didn’t see it as something that people who cared about her should worry about. Harry wanted to cry about how sweet she was. She deserved... everything.

“I won’t say anything, Principessa,” he squeezed her hand. She smiled.

“This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me... someone that isn’t Eleanor or Louis,” she explained.

“Eleanor...” he followed the GPS’s directions to get off the highway. It wasn’t quite a city, but not a small town either. There were lots of stores and restaurants right off the exit and Harry stopped at the red light. “El mentioned y’had an ex-boyfriend—”

“Course she did,” she rolled her eyes.

Harry ignored her comment. “—he must’ve... helped.”

She shrugged. “Yeah... but...” she looked at how her hands were holding Harry’s. It was so warm and somehow more intimate than every kiss she had with her ex. It felt like holding Harry’s hand was holding a piece of his heart and she didn’t necessarily think it was as simple as that... but she really liked it. “He... he complained a lot,” she mumbled. “I told you my family is a lot, and they are. But... they’re good people and I love them so it’s...” she sighed. “It’s complicated. I shouldn’t have dated him for as long as I did. Eleanor was probably right to not like him. By the end of it... it was like we lived two separate lives. I just did what I wanted and he...” she shrugged nonchalantly.

“You deserved more,” he finished.

“Well...I don’t know about—”

“No, Principessa,” he interrupted, cutting her off. “S’not a negotiation. You deserved more,” he promised squeezing her hand. They turned off the main road. Harry let her contemplate his statement in silence and continued following the GPS.

Her neighborhood was quaint and looked like a great place to grow up. It was the type of neighborhood little ones probably loved to Trick or Treat in. The kind where you could go to a neighbor’s house and ask for a cup of sugar and chat for so long you forgot to finish baking. Harry wondered if people sang Christmas carols or had block parties. But her grip had stiffened around Harry’s hand, and he could see her physically steeling herself. Her shoulders stiffened, everything about her seemed to be almost defensive. “If it’s too much for you,” she said getting out of the car and grabbing the baking items out of the back seat, “you can leave... there’s a cute mall with shops and restaurants back toward the highway if you need time to get away. I wouldn’t... I won’t blame you,” she turned her attention to the house she grew up in and looked at the Christmas lights still hanging from the gutter, draped on the shrubs.

It was February, now. Her heart felt heavy.

Harry had gotten screamed at during culinary school four and a half out of five days of the week. She was the kindest sweetest soul on the planet. There was no way her family could be so bad that he would feel the need to leave. “Thank you, kitten. M’going t’be fine,” he winked at her taking the bag of supplies and the pans from her, so she had free hands to open the front door. With a deep breath, she turned the knob and stepped inside.

It was loud. That was the first thing Harry noticed. There was yelling from one room to the other. In her defense, it wasn’t angry. It was as if they didn’t want to leave their rooms. The smoke detector was going off and a clang of pans coming from the kitchen. “She’s here!” A voice shouted from somewhere upstairs. Harry glanced around quickly catching pictures of when she was younger. He hoped he had a chance to look at them again later.

Harry watched her as she took in the scene. The living room and dining room were a bit cluttered. But it wasn’t as bad as she thought it was going to be. She hoped after she told them a friend was driving because of her car situation that they would clean up a bit. Maybe they did, or maybe her sister finally found better lighting in her room to do her makeup and skincare routine each morning instead of the living room. She pulled the items from Harry’s hands so he could take his coat off. He did so silently, and quickly took the items back from her so she could do the same.

Obviously, the smoke detector and kitchen were her first stop. “Mom,” she said evenly as she walked into the kitchen. Harry followed behind. It was a little more cluttered. Especially considering they knew she was coming over to bake cupcakes.

“Hey sweetie!” The woman turned. Harry could see his future. The sweet girl would grow up to be a pretty mom just like the woman in front of him. “Oh hello; I thought Eleanor was driving you.”

Harry saw her entire body flinch then, somehow, stiffen more. “Eleanor moved, Mom. I told you that.” The smoke detector was still going off and it somehow wasn’t fazing any of them and Harry found that rather funny and cute. But he was surprised that her mom didn’t remember her best friend had moved.

“Silly me, must have forgot,” she laughed and shrugged. She turned and took Harry’s items once more and set them on the little space left on the kitchen island.

“This is Harry,” she gestured to him.

Harry held his hand out. “Nice to meet you. You have a lovely home.”

She grinned and Harry could see every facial feature of the sweet girl had come directly from her mother. It was almost uncanny. “Thank you, Harry. Thanks for driving her,” she smiled. “Emma, honey! what are we doing with the smoke detector?”

“Nothing? Why?” The female voice responded.

Harry watched the girl’s face drop with exhaustion. The poor thing. They hadn’t been there longer than two minutes. Her mom rolled her eyes. “Can you turn it off?”

“I don’t know how!”

“I got it!” A male voice answered.

There was a clatter and a thud, but the alarm stopped. She felt the ringing of it still in her ears. “Honey, your daughter is here,” her mom sang.

After a moment, her father stepped into the kitchen joining them. “Hey sweetie,” he smiled. He nodded at Harry and gave his daughter a hug. She returned the hug, the light in her eyes seemed dead making her look stoic and tired. “No Eleanor?”

She nodded. “No Eleanor,” she sighed.

“Eleanor moved,” her mom answered pulling a casserole dish out of the oven. It smelled delicious.

“Really?” her dad said in surprise.

“M’Harry,” he said holding his hand out again for him to shake next. She was watching her mother with her casserole dish, she quickly moved things off the counter, so she had room to set it down. It wasn’t the most unusual thing, but it was very obvious that she was used to anticipating her family’s every movement. Maybe that’s why it was so nice to work with her in the kitchen at Dolcezza.

“What brings you here?” He asked.

“Emma’s bake sale,” she answered and began throwing used cooking utensils in the sink. She peeked into the dishwasher and noticed it was full. “Is this clean or dirty?” She asked.

“It’s clean. I asked Emma to empty it.”

“When?” she muttered under her breath looking at the stack of plates and dishes in the sink piling high enough that she thought she would have to run two loads while she was here. Harry was taking it all in, looking at the pictures on the fridge. “What’s she doing?”

“Who knows,” her mom smirked with an eyeroll. “Our princess is something else,” she explained to Harry with a smile.

Harry returned the smile but didn’t think Emma could be a princess. Not if she didn’t unload the dishwasher when she was asked. Nor if she knew how to handle a smoke detector. Harry got the sense that she was perhaps a bit spoiled—not through any fault of her own but ten years younger than her oldest sibling, she had to be waited on throughout her childhood.

Not to mention the only Prinicipessa in Harry’s life was the sweet girl he had spent an hour and a half with in the car. “Emma!” Her dad called.

“Coming!” She shouted and Harry heard a flutter of footfalls on the stairs coming from around the corner.

Her jaw dropped when she entered the kitchen. “You’re not Eleanor,” she said in surprise. Harry smirked. The poor girl looked ready to cry right there. Not one of them remembered. He wished he had her brother’s phone number just so he could warn him in advance. If he said Eleanor later Harry would lose it. He found it so unbearably sad, he thought she was going to cry. She flexed her jaw.

“Eleanor moved,” her dad explained.

“Huh,” she shrugged.

“M’Harry,” he said for the third time and held his hand out.

It seemed the genes she got from her mom were extremely strong. The three of them could have been mistaken for triplets. Her sister stared at him in surprise and nodded. “Emma,” she mumbled in surprise.

“Emma, can you empty the dishwasher since we have to make cupcakes and need space?” She asked.

Her sister rolled her eyes and Harry turned his attention again to the pictures on the fridge. Harry had his fair share of arguments with Gemma growing up. But he knew two sisters who argued could be on another level. “Did Mom ask you to ask me?”

Their mom opened her mouth, but she spoke before her mom uttered a syllable. “No Emma, but it’s courtesy to do what mom asks you to do, you know?”

“I was going to get to it after I finished my makeup.”

“Right because the dishes need you to be looking your best to get in the cabinet. Forget it. I’ll do it,” she sighed rubbing a hand on her forehead. “Why are the Christmas lights still up? I thought you were taking them down last week while James was home?” She wondered.

“James didn’t want to,” Emma shrugged. “Who cares? It’s pretty in the snow.”

She shared a look with her mom who once more looked so much like Harry’s sweet Principessa. She looked exhausted.

Oh.

Her mother’s genes were really strong. The exhaustion wasn’t something that just happened to her, it had been happening for longer than she had been alive.

“Alright,” she sighed and rubbed the back of her neck. “I will...manage that too.”

“Sweetie, you don’t need to do everything,” her dad said.

She turned to him briefly with an irritated expression. One that said, by all means, you do whatever you want. But it stopped as quickly as it started. After her expression returned to neutral, she began to unload the dishwasher. Harry wanted to keep a mental list of things to mention to her while he was here. The first being the look she gave her dad.

“Why are you making cupcakes?” Her mom asked quietly.

“I don’t know,” she sighed in frustration. “The winter carnival is expecting them or something...” she rolled her eyes. To her sister’s defense, she used to always make them when she was in high school. A “secret” recipe of hers (even if it was by all accounts a pretty standard cupcake recipe). But it had been talked about since she graduated. She made them for her brother and every year someone’s sibling of someone she knew from high school knew her and would ask.

Unlike her sister, everyone else had the courtesy to ask months in advance. Not a week like Emma. “I thought you knew!” She had exclaimed when she told her about it. “You always make them!”

“You didn’t ask!”

“I didn’t know I had to!” Emma was nearly hyperventilating on the phone thinking that she wasn’t going to make them because she had waited too long. But that was too much to explain to her mom. It was expected of her, and she should have known that she needed to make cupcakes. How could she not?

Harry was chatting with her father. Inquiring about how they had met and so forth. If Harry was into sports or if he liked fishing. She hoped Harry wouldn’t let it slip why she moved. “We haven’t seen her new place,” her dad admitted.

“S’nice. Y’should come by. We’ll make y’a delicious dinner too at the restaurant,” Harry promised.

She continued glancing over while the dishes were put in the correct cabinet, and she reloaded items from the sink to the machine. “Why don’t you make her do things, Mom?” She asked tiredly. Emma was inserting herself into the conversation with Harry and her dad. Her mom helped by clearing off the counters as quickly as possible.

She shrugged. “You know how Emma is,” she said.

“Kick her out,” she knew it was dramatic, but maybe even a threat would be helpful.

“Sweetie,” she rolled her eyes and shook her head. “You know that’s not how I operate. I could never kick out the three of you.” Plus, if she did kick her out, she would end up right at her doorstep. Right outside Dolcezza. “Who’s Harry? He’s cute,” she smiled excitedly.

Shaking her head, she sighed. “Harry’s a friend.”

“A cute friend,” she whispered peeking over at him still chatting with her father and sister.

Her face warmed and she shook her head. “Stop.”

“Don’t know many boys who would drive them home to their crazy family and spend the day baking and running errands.”

She nodded. “I know.”

Once the kitchen was mostly cleared, she was certain her dad loved Harry. To be fair, it was pretty easy to fall in love with him. She had done it about a thousand times. Emma was starstruck. She eyed his tattoos and his muscular arms. Harry had the best smile and the nicest eyes. Emma was going to be a giggly mess.

“Alright, I made shepherd’s pie for when you finish baking and before you go see James. What did he say he needed that you had to come?” Her mom asked.

Harry turned his attention back, wondering as well. She hadn’t said anything about the reason for her brother and added it to the list in his mind for when they headed to his off-campus apartment. “Just haven’t seen him in a while,” she shrugged.

“Probably needs money,” Emma snorted.

Her mom looked at her. “Sweetheart, don’t you dare give your brother money.”

She rolled her eyes. “Better me than you,” she mumbled.

Harry was starting to understand why this was going to be a long day.

Everyone left the kitchen and she got to work getting bowls, preheating the oven and all the other things she needed in a flurry of activity.

“M’not much of a baker, kitten. S’gonna have t’be all you. But m’really good at taking direction,” he promised with a smile. “Jus’ tell me what t’do.”

It was the cutest thing ever to see her put an apron on that was decorated with flowers on the print. She rolled her sleeves up to her elbows and twisted her hair back out of her face. She was adorable. “You’re sure?” She asked.

“S’all you, Principessa.”

“Okay, I just work really quick because I have to do other things so—”

“Okay,” he interrupted with a nod and a deeper smile. One that made the dimple in his cheek poke through. It poked right through her heart. “S’fine. I can do that,” he assured her with a head nod.

“Thank you, Harry,” she said gratefully.

“Course, kitten. M’happy t’help you. You’ve been helping so much in the kitchen. S’least I can do,” he squeezed her upper arm as he gazed at her hoping she would just see how much Harry liked her. They worked quickly, stirring all kinds of batter. They were making three different cupcakes: chocolate, vanilla, and red velvet. Her recipe was easy to follow. He liked her extra touches that made it her own and he thought that he would have to tell Antonio to hire her full time just to make cupcakes. “How come y’not a baker?” Harry was pulling the cupcakes out of the tins so he could place more paper cupcake holders to dole out more batter. He lined the cupcakes on every available surface. He insisted on this job since as he kept telling her, his fingertips were immune to the hot temperatures of the cupcakes right out of the oven.

“It’s a nice little hobby,” she smiled. “I don’t think I have enough good stuff just to open a little shop and sell cupcakes.”

“Would y’want to?” He wondered.

She shook her head. “No...I like my job. I’m good at it.”

“M’sure you are jus’ good at everything y’do, kitten,” he chuckled.

She smiled and put her hand on Harry’s arm as she walked behind him. In between rounds of trays going in and out of the oven, she was working on the pile of dishes and the dishwasher. It was almost done, and he was impressed (but not surprised) by how efficiently she worked. They chatted more about her job—she was a finance manager for a big company in the city near Dolcezza. She enjoyed it; her coworkers were nice, and people valued her skill. Not that that surprised Harry in the slightest. She found it nice to work from home as long as she maintained specific working hours.

“That was the hardest adjustment about working at home. I was worried I would just work all the time.” He nodded understandingly enjoying the passion she had for everything she did. “I think maybe if I wasn’t doing this, I would want to teach people about finance,” she shrugged.

“Y’would teach bratty teenagers?” Harry asked in surprise with a smile.

“I’m pretty good with them,” she winked and jutted her chin toward the empty hallway coming off the kitchen indicating Emma, of course. Harry laughed and shook his head at her.

After more chit chat, there were about 130 cupcakes cooling and waiting to be frosted after a while. “Do you mind helping with the lights?” She asked quietly. The last batch of cupcakes just went in, and all the cleaning was almost done.

Harry turned to see her pink cheeks. It was hard for her to ask for help, Harry could see that. But it was really exciting for him to hear her ask. It was a huge step. Even if it was already implied that he would help her with whatever. “Course, Principessa,” he smiled. “M’happy to.”

“This has to be the worst day off in the history of the world for you.”

“I don’t know. Cupcakes and a pretty girl?” She dropped her gaze to the sink and Harry smiled at her shyness. “S’better than me jus’ sleeping the day away,” he smiled.

“Don’t you have... a date or something?” She wondered, looking as far away from Harry’s face as possible. She didn’t want to catch his expression in her peripheral. “It’s Friday. I imagine you only get a Friday off once in a while.”

He smirked with a shake of his head. She was oblivious.

Or maybe she just didn’t want to see it because of who she was. Harry adored her and that probably scared some part of her, even he could recognize that. “It rotates,” he agreed. “But... no. M’not really interested in dating anyone,” he told her.

“No?” She frowned before she could stop herself. Immediately, she regretted saying it. But was desperate to know the answer.

His heart sped. He wondered if the strong, rhythmic beating would break one of his ribs. Closing the oven, he turned to see her still working on the dishes. But after a near silent moment, he stopped her movements, grabbed her by the wrists and turned her around from the sink. Her hands dripped water on the floor, and he shifted her so that her back was to the counter. His hands pressed on either side of her hips against it, and he put a breath of space between them. “I’d make an exception for you,” he promised and scanned her face. Her eyelashes fluttered and she swallowed hard.

“Yeah?” She whispered.

“Always, Principessa,” he murmured and dropped his gaze to her lips.

Her brain got the better of her again, making her mouth speak before she could comprehend what she was about to say. Her breath was airy, her mind spinning with the scent of vanilla cupcakes and Harry’s shampoo filling her nose as he leaned toward her. “You’re really going to kiss me in my parents’ house? When it’s crazy, and I’m crazy, and they’re—”

Harry chuckled, bringing a hand to the side of her face, and brushing his thumb against her cheek. As hard as his heart was beating, it felt so suddenly slow. Like this was normal and what he was supposed to do. It didn’t need a crazy heartbeat. It was simply what he was supposed to do. He glanced briefly around to see if her family was nearby—he wouldn’t want to intentionally embarrass her. “Yeah, kitten. Guess I am,” he shrugged and leaned the final distance to press his lips solidly between hers.

The moment his lips touched her, she felt her knees soften. Like she was going to fall over. All the blood in her body rushed from her extremities to her heart. It made her feel weak all over. His lips were so soft, like little down pillows. They weren’t chapped at all like she thought they’d be. Her whole body felt a rush of warmth, like the oven was open and brushing hot air over her. Her lashes fluttered, making her eyes close and she wished she dried her hands because she wanted to hold onto him, but didn’t want to get his shirt wet when he had nothing else to wear.

She sighed deeply. It was so sweet. It made his chest ache with want; he wanted to be closer. Wanted to kiss her longer. Wanted to wrap her in his arms and never ever let her go. Harry had never kissed anyone that had sighed so softly like that while kissing him. It was so very her and it made him feel like he was going to melt into the floor. Her lips tasted like chocolate from when she tested the batter. His hand kept hold of the side of her face while he nipped and pecked at her lips. The other pressed against the counter, the length of his body pressed to hers, the only two things keeping him upright and not bringing them down to the kitchen floor.

He released her lips after a moment causing a beautiful breathy sigh to leave her lips. His gaze was so intense she felt it in her stomach. It couldn’t have been more than forty-five seconds of kissing, but he would have taken an hour, and it wouldn’t have been enough. She wiped a hand on her apron and then brought it to her mouth to touch her tingly lips.

Harry’s breath was a little shallow and she was grateful he sounded a little worse for wear only because she was worried, she was going to pass out right in the middle of the kitchen. “Thanks,” she whispered.

He chuckled, shaking his head. That was very much a her thing to say at a time like this. It made his stomach flutter with excitement. “Pleasure was all mine, Principessa,” he mumbled pressing a kiss to her forehead and gently squeezing the side of her face as he held her cheek.

They stood for a moment staring at each other like they had never seen each other before. As awful as her day was, and as frustrated as her family could make her feel, this was infinitely better than what she thought it would be.

“We should... take care of the lights,” she whispered. Not that she wanted to, but kissing Harry with three quarters of her family one room away did not seem ideal.

He nodded. “Okay,” he released her cheek making her regret her choice because she felt utterly cold. She shivered and Harry sighed as he stepped away from her. Right as she turned back for the sink, the water still running, Harry caught her wrist again and pulled her so quickly to him her heart skipped a beat. “One more,” he mumbled and brought their mouths back together just as quick as he pulled her toward him, she hardly had time to react. His tongue gently tracing the length of her lip making her sigh again and he thought he would surely explode from how much he liked her.

“Where are the boxes?” She asked as she put her coat on. Harry pulled her hair from getting trapped and smoothed it softly on the back of her jacket. He found about a hundred excuses to touch her in the last half hour while they waited for the cupcakes to finish and for her to finish cleaning. The kitchen looked better now that she had been in there.

“In the attic,” her sister said looking up from her phone briefly. She sighed, frustrated that her siblings hadn’t even gotten the boxes down last week. Harry followed her upstairs. In the little hall between all the doors leading to what he assumed were bedrooms and at least one bathroom, was the ceiling door for the attic.

She pulled the cord to bring down the ladder, the hinges of the door groaning.

“Sweetie, wait!” Her mom shouted suddenly. Harry yanked her so hard around her waist as the door opened widely. He pulled her back toward the empty half of the hallway, causing them to fall in a heap right as the ladder half fell, dangling, unhinged to half of the frame of the opening. She would have gotten a serious smack to the face had Harry not pulled her out of the way. She felt so warm in his arms. Even if her falling on top of him with her full weight could not have felt good. She could feel her face burning in embarrassment.

“Emma, are you fucking serious?!” She screamed. She scrambled to get to her feet. She helped Harry back to her feet. “Are you okay?” she asked nervously, her eyes looking him over quickly and her mom had reached the top of the steps. Her eyebrows pinched together. She looked so emotionally hurt. The poor thing.

Harry shook his head looking at the ladder and then at her, still worried she hurt herself. He definitely yanked her really hard, and he did his best to take the brunt of the fall, but that couldn’t have felt good. “M’fine, Principessa, are you alri—”

“How is that my fault?!” Emma shouted.

“You knew it was broken and didn’t tell me?!” She hurried down half the steps to yell at her sister.

“Harry, I’m so sorry,” her mother said.

“It’s okay. We’re alri—”

“Is that why you two didn’t do the decorations?” She was seething. From the top of the steps Harry could see her shoulders heaving with each breath. “Are you serious?”

“What?!”

“The ladder almost hit Harry and I!”

“Kitten,” he started down the couple steps and he touched her shoulder gently.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Her mom asked.

“I was going to fix it tomorrow,” her dad called from another room.

“I’m fine, I promise,” Harry smiled gently at her mother wondering how she could be ignoring the screaming match.

“Why are you even dealing with the decorations, you came to bake cupcakes!”

“Emma you’re being a selfish brat, not once did you say thank you—”

“Principessa,” Harry’s voice was low, and he moved his hand to her lower back.

“You always make cupcakes!”

“—you do nothing but make messes that Mom has to clean up you could have at least put the decorations away!”

The screaming was reaching levels Harry hadn’t heard before. Especially not from his sweet, pretty angel. He worried about how her throat would feel from yelling so loud and of course the anger that was rippling through her made him worry she would shake so much she would fall down the steps.

“Sweetie,” her mom said pushing past Harry very gently. “It’s okay—”

“Mom, it’s not okay. She is a lazy, spoiled brat and you don’t—”

“Just because you’re older doesn’t mean you get to come over and act like you run everything! You act so high and mighty! We’ve been fine without you living here and bossing all of us around. Can’t you just relax for two seconds and stop being a bitch?!” Emma did not once get up to look at her sister during this conversation.

She finally stopped. Her breathing no longer heaving, she stopped shaking. She flexed her jaw. “The cupcakes need to cool. We’re going to see James and I’ll be back to frost them when we get back,” she snapped and headed down the steps.

“Sweetie,” her mom said softly.

“Dad,” she called stiffly.

Harry followed as quickly as he could.

“Yeah?” His voice was quiet.

“Can you bring the ladder inside that will reach the attic while I’m gone?” She asked.

“Sure thing, sweetie,” he promised.

She walked right out the door and closed it behind her.

“I am so sorry, Harry,” her mom whispered.

“It’s alright. M’gonna make sure she’s alright. I have a sister,” he said encouragingly with a gentle smile. “I get it,” he shrugged. “We’ll be back,” he promised following after her.

They drove in silence to her brother’s apartment. Harry reached over and placed his hand on the top of her thigh, but she didn’t hold it the way she had when he drove earlier. She stared out the window the whole time. There wasn’t a word of discussion. Harry didn’t speak, he didn’t play music, just gently moved his index finger back and forth, trying to soothe her as much as possible from the small movement.

James was a half hour away from their house and when there was only ten minutes left of the drive, Harry cleared his throat. “That wasn’t nice of your sister,” he whispered.

“Can we do this later?” She answered.

He frowned. “Principessa.”

“Look, it was really bad and I’m so embarrassed that you saw that and heard that. I’m sad you gave up your day off to deal with my insane family. I feel bad you’re stuck with me for the remainder of the day so I would rather just have you tell me to leave you alone when we’re on the way home—”

Shaking his head quickly, Harry thought about pulling over because surely they had entered an alternate dimension. “Kitten, what on earth are y’talking about?”

“I don’t want to do this, Harry. I’m so close to crying, it’s not even funny.”

He was quiet for a full minute. “Y’don’t have t’be embarrassed around me, Principessa. M’not going anywhere. The only reason I wish we were on our way home is so I could walk y’upstairs and kiss y’outside your door for a lot longer than we did,” he squeezed her thigh gently.

Another silent minute. They were five minutes from James’ place. “Really?” She whispered.

He glanced at her. He could see her teary gaze. The one that broke his heart when she wasn’t feeling well. It broke his heart all over again. “Really, kitten,” he promised. “We can talk ‘bout it later. But y’family doesn’t make me like y’any less. Other than worrying ‘bout you, m’having a lot of fun,” he promised. “Got a new cupcake recipe, got to see cute baby pictures of you, and got to kiss you. So...this is pretty much the best day off I’ve had in years.”

Her heart felt splintered and broken by her sister’s mean words. She was certain Harry would hate her and wouldn’t want anything to do with her. “You still want to kiss me?” She asked.

“Always, Principessa,” he nodded. “I’d ‘ve kissed you the whole way here if it were possible,” he assured her.

Taking a deep breath, she nodded. “I’d like that,” she admitted.

He chuckled, smiling happier than he felt the last twenty-eight minutes worrying about her. “I really, like you Principessa,” she turned that pretty pink that Harry liked so much. He could see it in his peripheral. “I don’t think you’re bossy or mean. I think you are the kindest, most caring person ‘ve ever met,” he put his car in park outside the apartment building the GPS directed him to. He cupped her face again and kissed her forehead. It felt perfect. Like Harry had kissed her a hundred times before. He peered into her eyes with the same look he had right before he kissed her in the kitchen.

“I’m sorry. I think... we have to wait,” she whispered her breath catching in her throat. She felt dizzy with his breath filling her senses. He frowned.

“Don’t want to kiss?” he asked worried she was still going to push him away.

“No... no...” she shook her head her breath uneven. “I do. I very much do. But I won’t...” she sighed nodding quickly. “I won’t want to stop. And I—”

Harry chuckled dropping his lips to press a line of kisses from one cheek to the other over the bridge of her nose. “S’okay, kitten. I’ve waited nearly nine months t’kiss you. Can wait a few more hours,” he promised.

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @youdontcaredoyou @tiredinwinter @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach @straightontilmornin @freedomfireflies @littlenatilda @kathb59 @babegoals @angel-upon @lilfreakjez @mleestiles @ameliaalvarez06 @canyonmoondreams @summertime-pills @daphnesutton @l4rrysh0use @perfectywrong @foreverxholland @lolyouallsuck @buckybarnessimpp @stylesfever @harrysxcarolina @haarrrys @lovrave @st-ev-ie @pandeebearstyles @toosarcastic03 @luvonstyles @tenaciousperfectionunknown @classychalamet

Dolcezza: @matildasatellite @crossyourpeter @st-ev-ie @harryskiwi2 @lovingfurypanda @sideboobrry11 @slayyyyyyyyyyyyyysblog @theresnooneheretosave @emmaawbr

I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if I put you on the wrong list, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist for more of my writing.

#harry #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles blurbs #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #one direction #one direction writing #dolcezza

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vee-beeee · 1 year ago

Text

Where you lead, I will follow

HIII

Since I posted a super long 2 parter Im going back to short and sweet ones for a hot minute

This is a tad gilmore girls inspired, theres a quote that ive been living by in here lol

Premise: You can Connor go for a walk in the snow during your break, you go get a coffee and Connor is cute

Warnings: Fluff as always, maybe a swear word, quotes lol

Connor x reader

SORRY IF THIS HAS BEEN DONE BEFORE

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4 more minutes

You had to suffer 4 more minutes of Gavin's rambling until you could excuse yourself for your break.

And you needed a coffee desperately, its hard to deal with this guy without it.

"-and that's when I told him he should've checked the body! Hey, Are you even listening?" Gavin leaned forward from his desk, removing his feet from resting on the top, and snapped his fingers right in front of your face. You jumped in surprise, having been totally in a trance staring at the office clock counting down the minutes, and turned to look at him giving him a hard glare. You mumbled a half-hearted "I'm listening Gavin" to appease him before returning your gaze to the clock. Gavin seemed satisfied and started talking again, going off on another story about how he insulted some poor sap on the police force, and you sighed softly before putting your elbows on your desk and placing your cheeks in your hands, choosing to stare out the window now. Resigning yourself to this fate.

But you were saved, by a certain android.

"Detective, would I be able to accompany you on your break?"

You tilted your head to gaze up at Connor, who was standing before you. His hands were behind his back, his outfit looking clean and neat as always, and he was softly smiling down at you. You beamed up at him, seeing what he was doing, and you nodded gently at him telling him he could.

"Excuse me tin-can, but we were in the middle of something" Gavin leaned back in his chair, resting his arms behind his head, his face twisted in a scowled directed at the poor android.

"Yes, but it is her allotted break time starting-" Connor paused and looked off in the distance for a moment, before returning his gaze to Gavin "now"

The anger on Gavin's face was apparent, but after staring down an unmoving and unblinking Connor for a good 20 seconds, he scoffed and got up to stalk away. You gently stood from your chair, stretching your limbs and grabbing your sweater as you thanked him

"You're a life saver Connor. I don't think I would have lasted another minute." you chuckled as his lips twitched

"I don't think I would have either" You burst out in surprised laughter, while his mouth curved into a smile watching you. You definitely weren't expecting that response.

The pair of you started off, and as you passed by Connor's desk that he shared with a certain eccentric detective you quickly turned to said lieutenant before walking past. "Is it okay if I steal your android Hank?" the older man spun around in his chair, and he rolled his eyes at you both good naturedly, totally hiding a smile. "Fine by me, that'll get him off my ass for a minute" you and Hank chuckled as you watched Connor turn a little blue and look away.

You and Connor left the station after that, and you both walked down the snowy street, on route to your favorite coffee place. It was way colder outside than you remembered this morning, and you began to rub your hands together, breathing into them. Your lips were chapped too, awesome.

"Are you chilly? Do you require a warmer jacket, maybe gloves?" Connor leaned against you, and you pushed against him, smiling as you thought of a response.

"Lip gloss, actually"

Connor turned to you, and you giggled at his reaction. His LED was blinking yellow, and his eyebrows were furrowed. "Why would you need that?" you rolled your eyes dramatically "My lips are chapped, duh" his expression instantly softened, and he made his cute little oh face.

"I'm afraid I don't have that on me, however I can purchase it for next time" you gazed up at him, surprise written all over your expression as he grinned. You both fell into small chuckles, and for the rest of the walk you told him what shades would work the best for him.

He was right about on thing, Your hands were a little cold. You wished you brought gloves.

After acquiring the coffee, you were having trouble holding the hot drink because of how scalding it was. Though the small bit of warmth it brought was welcome.

"I can carry that for you, I don't necessarily input heat" you smiled gratefully at Connor and handed him your drink, taking care not to spill it. But as your hands connected, he grabbed your drink in one and took your hand in another. You stopped walking and gasped in surprise, looking at your linked palms. You turned your gaze up to his face and he was goofily smiling.

"I noticed your hands were cold. I have a setting that allows me to heat mine. Is this okay?" you melted, and looked at him with adoration as a soft smile spread across your face, lacing your hands with him, leaning in closer as well and bumping into him.

"Yes, this is definitely okay"

You walked all the way back to the station, hand in hand with Connor, both of you smiling like idiots.

Yeah, you started dating like a couple days later

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THANKS FOR READING

I hope this hasn't been done before, I added my own spin on it anyways

And I hope you enjoyed!! Its getting colder outside so this came to my mind

#dbh connor #dbh connor x reader #dbh rk800 #detroit become human #dbh hank

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youngpettyqueen · 9 months ago

Note

Hi! I'm back and saw the bad injury prompts you reblogged. 👀 Could you please do "I can't feel my legs" with Julian saying it? ❤️

thank you for your patience!! its been. a wild week. but I finally have the energy to sit and get this written out. ive been pondering it all week hehe

I went through a couple ideas before I settled on doing a missing scene style of thing set in The Siege of AR-558. this is set after battle, but before the conversation we see between Sisko and Worf right at the very end. ive talked about it on this blog before but it makes me absolutely feral that Julian gets shot and just. gets up and keeps going. forever chewing on that but I digress ill save my insane rambling for the tags

I hope you enjoy! I like writing Julian and Worf a lot, and I hope you enjoy reading them <3

Doctor Bashir can be a very difficult man to find.

Worf isn't surprised. This is a battlefield in its aftermath, naturally a doctor would be difficult to locate, especially one as quick and efficient as Julian. He stops to ask a few people who look to have been treated, and they all give generally the same answer; that they just saw him, and he went over that way.

Worf follows the general direction of all the pointing, and he finds himself in a tunnel leading to another part of the caverns. He starts to walk through, figuring he'll find the elusive doctor on the other side, where other wounded surely lie.

Instead he damn near trips over him.

Worf thinks it's a rock, or a dropped weapon, at first. But then, as he's taking a second to regain his balance, he hears a low, quiet groan. He looks down, expecting to find a wounded officer, and that's exactly what he finds.

Except the wounded officer is none other than Doctor Bashir.

Julian is half-concealed by the shadows, tucked right up against the tunnel wall and lying flat on his stomach. One arm is outstretched, like he was reaching for the other side, while he has his face buried in the crook of the other elbow. Worf had tripped over one of his legs, which is bent at the knee, like he'd fallen mid-step.

Worf drops to a crouch beside him. "Doctor Bashir," He says, but gets no response, "Doctor, can you hear me?" He places a firm hand on the doctor's shoulder, in case the touch might rouse him.

Julian flinches under his hand. Then he stirs, and he lifts his head, trembling with the effort of it. "Worf...?" He looks up at him, eyes squinted in the dark.

"Yes, Doctor," Worf replies, "What happened? Are you injured?" He questions.

Julian's head drops back against his arm, but he keeps it turned so that he's still facing Worf. "'Fraid so," He grimaces, "I was... I was shot. My side..." He manages to give a weak, indicative nod.

Worf nods. "I will assist you," He tells him. He gets a hold of Julian and, carefully, he maneuvers him onto his back. Julian grabs onto his arm, and there's a surprising strength to his grip. A strangled sound of pain escapes him, grinding out through tightly-clenched teeth. Worf can feel him trembling still, so he pulls him a bit closer, supports the doctor's weight against his own body, "Try to hold still. I must see the wound."

Julian nods wordlessly. He faces the pain well. It's difficult to make out, in the dark, but there's just enough light from the tunnel's exit for Worf to be able to see the large hole burnt away from Julian's uniform jacket. It's burnt right through, both jacket and undershirt gone, leaving raw, angry skin exposed to the dusty air of these caverns. He can see the glisten of blood, can feel it saturating the jacket as he places a bracing hand by the wound.

It's bleeding badly. Julian will have already lost a lot of blood, he needs to slow it until he can get him to one of the medical officers. He shifts his hand over and presses it firmly against the wound, and he keeps a firm grip on the doctor as his entire body jolts with the action. Julian continues to face the pain bravely, turning his face into Worf's chest and screaming against his teeth.

There's a part of him that threatens to get very, very angry at seeing Julian wounded. There's no honour in harming a healer, even some of the most bloodthirsty Klingons he's known would spit at the idea. It's an instinctual reaction, one he has to bite back. He has to remind himself that Julian was here not only as a doctor, but also as an officer. He was wounded as a warrior on the battlefield.

"I don't- I don't think I like that look, Commander." Julian wheezes, his weak voice drawing Worf back out of his thoughts. He's managing a small smile, teasing and boyish even in agony, but it's clear that he's struggling.

"The wound is severe," Worf replies. He doesn't see the point in trying to soften that information, he's sure that Julian, as a doctor, is all too aware of his current condition, "Why did you not seek medical assistance?" He asks.

"Didn't realize it was... this bad," Julian rasps, "My brain does this... funny thing, where I'll see people who need me, and... and nothing else really matters," He rests his head against Worf's chest, his throat bobbing as he swallows hard. He looks nauseous, his brow pinched tight and sweat glistening on his forehead, "I hardly felt it till I collapsed." He manages to finish.

"I fail to see how that is funny," Worf gruffs, "Your dedication to your patients is admirable, Doctor. But now, it is you who requires assistance. Are you able to stand?" He asks.

Julian shakes his head. "No, I... I can't," He replies honestly, "I'm... afraid I can't feel my legs, Commander." He admits.

"Then you will be carried," Worf adjusts his hold, gets an arm under Julian's knees and pulls him against his chest. He pushes himself up with ease, the doctor's weight inconsequential as he cradles him securely, "Hold on, Doctor." He instructs.

Julian's arms come up to wrap around his neck. His head drops against Worf's shoulder, his face half-buried in his neck. He can feel Julian's shallow, quick breathing against his skin. He doesn't have time to waste.

Worf sets off, ducking out of the tunnel and moving into the next open cavern. With the injured doctor in his arms, he makes a brisk pace as he seeks out the first medical officer he can find.

#fic bitching #star trek: ds9 #worf #julian bashir #this was also my warm up for tonight and I had fun with it #will I ever get tired of putting Julian in Worf's arms?#the answer is no <3 #anyways yeah it makes me insane that Julian gets shot and just keeps going #gets right to doctoring after the battle is over #I was looking at the script for the episode to make sure I got things right and Worf mentions Julian was on the Veracruz #with the other wounded #which is definitely meant to indicate he's working in the sickbay on the wounded #but like. he's also wounded!! he got shot!!#so. this scene in my head #some parts of this were loosely inspired by how Worf thinks about Julian in the novel Vengeance #Worf has this reluctant respect for Julian that I think is really neat #and also he's just automatically protective because thats who he is as a person #one day ill write a whole big thing about them I think about the potential for their dynamic often #anyways! I hope you enjoyed <3

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charklenee · 8 months ago

Text

Im bored here is chase x y/n [house md] part 1

I have clinic duty today and I've never felt more exhausted. Working five to nine is already hard, but in addition to the headache I got from my hangover, it's a new kind of hell. I knew I shouldn't drink an excessive amount of liquor during a week day but what more can I say? I was in a state of absolute vulnerability and had a rough time processing an end to my two-year relationship, with my now ex-boyfriend. My head ached tremendously and I could feel a beating pulse on the back of it. I closed my eyes and relaxed my shoulders and sat calmly on the chair in House's office.

He walked in his sneakers with his cane towards the coffee pot and poured a glass for himself.

Currently, I'm still closing my eyes and ready to pass out any moment. I had enormous eyebags in dark shades of brown and black. Slightly smudged mascara and eyeliner was still visible because I haven't washed my face since last night. My hair was scuffed in a bad way, but I managed to clip it so it wouldn't be unbearable. I looked like a mess, I sound like a mess, my hair looks like a mess, and I have clinic duty today. This day couldn't not get any worse, right?

"Patient is in a severe state of comatose," House said while sipping his coffee.

"And?" Cameron replied.

"What is the word "severe" implying?" Chase said with furrowed eyebrows.

"It means she is half-dead and in a state of comatose "

"Great.." I say. "Just put her on the IV and wait for her to emerge from her beauty sleep three decades later, easy-peasy."

House turned his head from the whiteboard and looked at me straight in the eye, "oh yeah, I thought of the same thing, well obviously - are you hungover, Dr.?" House said it in the most sarcastic tone he could possibly say and I was about to tip over the edge of my seat listening to his rambling.

"Yeah. I am, House. I'm going to literally faint any minute now -have you done a tox-screen on the patient, might've been drug related."

"Patient's tox screen was clear, no sign of anything related to drugs." House said.

"Organ failure? Kidney? Or maybe cardiac arrest?" asked Foreman urgently.

"So you meant to say that half-dead meant bruised and butchered?" Chase replied to House.

"She's full of scars head to toe and has nasty fleshy wounds, my guess is high blood sugar is an underlying cause of all of this." House said.

"Hyperglycemia as an underlying problem?" I said with my eyes closed and palms covering my face.

"Yes, three points to the alchoholic." House pointed.

Chase was looking at me all concerned but I honestly don't need that kind of attention. I need something like a rebound, alchohol could get me far, but not far enough to forget. Memories of him linger, linger so dearly, hauntingly.

Chase said coldly, "Wake up, House told you to draw blood." He tapped my back whilst I was covering my face.

"Yeah..I'll do it." I said, in a breaking voice.

"Damn, what did this guy do to make you look like this." He left to check up on the patient.

He stopped and looked at me before he went out of House's office.

After a few minutes, I got the sample and I did some tests. I was looking through the microscope at the office and examining the patient's blood culture. There he was, he walked in. He slided the door and tried to not make it obvious he was there for me, but I could tell the opposite from his glare piercing through the back of my mind.

"Yeah, I'm here for you. Are you okay? I brought some juice for your hangover. I know we don't get along and I hardly know you but please just take the juice."

I stood up and stray away from the microscope. I folded my arms, "it's nice to think that somebody is here for me during times like these, but I don't quite enjoy being somebody else's guilt. I don't want your pity, Dr. Chase. But I will accept this juice, thanks."

He handed me the juice and glanced down, this somehow made me guilty for treating him like I did. I keep blaming my shitty behavior because of a break-up. I guess it's somehow true that it did lead up to this behavior but it is also my fault I don't take care of myself.

"Chase. I'm sorry I was acting all bitchy, I-"

"Yeah, I get it. I did pity you, from personal experience I felt a need to help, I guess."

"Oh, yeah. Thanks for the juice."

"Hey.." Chase said softly.

"Yeah?"

"Do you need a rebound, I could help you. It could ease the pain. No alchohol, no meds, just you and me. We could talk your feelings out. I don't want to smell your vodka scent anymore."

"Sure, whatever you say." I initially was thinking it would lead up to this but when I heard the words I just gave up and followed to his sayings because I think something like this could bring me some sort of rejoicement.

"I have clinic duty. I'll be at your place at seven."

"Deal."

#fanfiction #house md #robert chase #fanfic

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luveline · 9 months ago

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my dear jade, i just wanted to drop by for the first time since i followed you and say, i love your writing jade, YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND HOW MUCH.

i’ve been lingering on your blog. to scared to interact, i never do interact on here. but i just admire you so much i had to break my two years of barely interacting on this site. I read and re read your work, and just- AGHHHH!!!!! i’ve been following you for years now… i think since 2022.

i am also a writer here, and i post not that often, but i envy you, honestly i was asked who my favorite writer was, and my first thought was you. i just wanted to tell you that i admire you a lot. i look up to the way you write, the way you build up your stories, and how you flesh out your characters.

your blog is a comfort for me.

in the two plus years i’ve been on tumblr your blog is the one i will remember years and years from now.

i have a lot of uncertainty in my life, i finish high school in eight days!!! i am scared and elicited for college. and honestly i don’t know why this is suddenly a journal entry. i am kind of rambling, but anyway-

i just wanted to share that with you.

i write smut sometimes, (don’t worry, i am over age! i am ninteen!) but i get tired of it, and i just like the way you write reader and how she relates to alll the characters i’ve ever loved. i barely ever post here, barely interact with anyone. ive been here for a lot of fandom drama, and i’ve never been interested in it, a lot of people get big and leave. i just like to write for myself and post for others to also enjoy, and anyway, but you have been such a constant for me in my tumblr time, you and your beautiful, beautiful writing.

if i had a way to describe your writing, its like sleepy sunday mornings after having a night out or in with friends, you are half awake and in a dream state, everything is so peaceful, and you have the whole day before you, like knowing you are loved, and love right back,

and you remind me of being seven and being included with my elder cousins as they talked about life, i used to think - still do- that they were amazing, that i wanted to be just like them when i grew.

i don’t know you personally, but i bet my life that you are the type of person that has a contagious smile. you’re eyes twinkle when you smile, and people feel safe around you. i do, for two plus years your blog has been my comfort.

when my heart aches and i don’t want to cry i can always trust your blog to bring a smile, a blush, and a giggle out of me,

anyway, just felt like writing to you, like a letter yk?

love, kisses, and hugs, always <3

p.s so sorry for the ramble, i just wanted to write to you, and idk…

omg you sound just like me honey!!! I love you I’m so happy you’re here and you don’t have to be sorry for anything it’s nice to see inside your head for a bit!! I’m really lucky to have you hold me in such high esteem and to be here for so long, thank you for being so kind! Two years is a long time 😭 I just think it’s nice to have you don’t worry about anything else if it’s to do with me!!

#jade's asks #ily

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noahtally-famous · 4 months ago

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Tell me about Picking Petals and that time travel AU of TDPI

Is the elimination order different, or does it go the same way as canon?

oh my godddd this ask has been sitting in my drafts for two months now i think?? ive been holding back on answering this bc i wanted to be in the right environment where i can infodump without getting interrupted. im so so super sorry for the long wait, i hope my response makes up for it!!

first of all, TYSM FOR THE ASK DUDE heads up you're gonna prob get a longass ramble abt this from me so yeah lmao without further ado, lets get into it!

PICKING PETALS:

the fic loml, the first EVER td fic i thought up and I've three chapters prewritten for it, half of the fic planned out/outlined, and so many scenes, moments, interactions, etc for it thought up. i'd gotten back into the fandom and while rewatching tdpi for the first time in 7 years i came up with this idea.

started off as purely self-indulgent bc i wanted to write my spin on the truth or scare episode, and then it turned into all this and im so living for it!!

dashawn-centric, obv. it veers off-course from canon during and after episode 4 (the truth or scare one). the overarching plot is 'what if dave and shawn kissed for the scare, and all the shenanigans that followed with getting feelings for someone you didn't expect all bc of one (1) kiss--as well as some other stuff that snowballs from it bc its total drama'. this is TOTALLY canon divergent. the elimination order is 90% different from canon. the characters get way more depth to the point where they may seem like different ppl with only their canon stereotypes reminding them of who they are in canon (not different as in like ooc btw before anyone jumps to that conclusion, i meant different as in a lot of the characters get more of a personality than what canon gave them lmao). a lot of my dave lore spawned thanks to this fic. dave, himself, gets such a fucking glowup from the 2D version of him canon gave while still retaining his 'normal guy' persona. same with shawn tbh, i love the expansion I've done for the characters in this fic ngl, but personally i love how dave turned out

dave & ella friendship, dave & sky friendship, background jasammy, jasmine & shawn friendship, sammy & shawn friendship, mild sammy & dave camaderie/friendship, sammy & amy development, dave & topher rivalry interactions, dave & scarlett interactions, shawn & topher rivalry, the final three being a ball of tension bc of enmity (i wont say who they are), ella getting her development, dives into character backstories and why they auditioned for td, tensionnn of all kinddd, dramaaa of all kinddd, scarlett's evilness actually being foreshadowed before the Great Reveal, etc etc the list just keeps on going!! these folks are gonna have tdi vibes--they're going to act like teens and befriend each other (or hate each other) bc canon tdpi sorely lacked that and imo the pi cast exudes found family vibes

due to how variant the elimination order is, i literally had to create two new challenges for two of the chapters, esp post-merge bc chris was interjecting himself into practically all the challenges in canon lmaoo also tdpi's eliminations were annoying bc why were there two double eliminations for literally no reason? that's gonna change here as well; no double eliminations, and there's gonna be a variant of elimination types (for example: there's gonna be a 'character is too injured to compete therefore obligatory elimination' type happening in this fic--hmmm i wonder who'll be behind the injury... and some more "scandalous" types bc this is total drama, it's not gonna live up to its name if there aren't any eliminations that are 'unfair'!)

starts from ep4 all the way to the finale--and speaking of the finale, the finalists are partly different from canon too. like i said, nearly everything diverges from canon to a degree. i kind of went nuts with this fic lmao its my bby, i treasure it with my heart, i want to write more for it, i want to publish it so badly, but my goal is to get at least 20 chapters into agtsta before publishing picking petals (tho idk i think that plan might change...im considering maybe giving myself breathing time to get more prewriting done until january before starting the new year off right with some picking petals posting!)

REWIND, REPEAT:

the time-travel au fic!! its still heavily in the works so im basically spitballing ideas here, but im thinking of two options.

dave time-travel route:

initially my idea for this fic (can you tell i love putting dave in situations? that boy deserves to be spun in a mixing bowl), and it'd be interesting bc he's sort of like an anti-villain?? bc its directly after the finale when he gets left behind and attacked by scuba bear. he comes across some malfunctioning tech on the island while running away and BOOM next thing he knows he's somehow zapped back to where and when it started--on the blimp at the very beginning of the season. so he is still reeling from everything that occurred and naturally he isn't feeling too lightly abt the whole ordeal

some of my mutuals may know this, but when i was like 10 and watched tdpi for the first time, i made notes for a season 2 au; it involved a personality shift for dave (even when i was 10 he was one of my favs). my idea in the notes was that he became a hollyleaf, if you know warrior cats lmao; he's more reserved, there's this inner turmoil and energy coiled in him, he's an enigma, he doesn't open up much, he has this Dark Secret vibe surrounding him, but he's also clever and will do anything to get to his goal and he has extensive knowledge of the island due to his time on there. this personality remains the same more or less in this fic. the catch is dave acts more in a villainy way but he doesn't rlly have what it takes to be a villain even though a part of him wants to (hence anti-villain). as much as he pretends he doesn't, he still has emotions--just heavily barricaded, and those emotions prevent him from fully losing his head. he forms an alliance with scarlett (and maybe topher??? idk why i love that trio sm, they would be so iconic when it came to villainy; bonus if sugar informally joins too, not as like a set part of their group tho bc she has her own agenda) and has one goal in mind: to get sky eliminated. gone is the lovestruck fool, he's revenge-driven and says he doesn't have time for love bc he's in it for the competition. (idk yet if there will be love interests for him or if this is just gonna be a dave-centric fic). the finalists are prob gonna be dave and sky bc that'd be fucking iconic after the build-up

shawn & dave friendship, topher & dave alliance, scarlett & dave alliance, sugar & dave hesitant alliance, sky & dave one-sided enmity, ella & dave friendship, maybe more depth abt beardo?? or leonard?? jasmine & dave mutual wariness and distrust, chris absolutely loving this version of dave

sammy time-travel route:

development (lots of development!) on sammy's end as well as her relationship with her sister amy. she'll prob be a finalist too?? or at least in the final four/three, and idk i want it to be a sammy & amy finale but idk if that's too cliche lmaoo i think it'd be interesting!

this one's different. shortly after tdpi ended, sammy partakes in a "controlled experiment" with several other teens with the reward of getting paid a somewhat hefty amount. she decides why not, seems simple enough, but when it's her turn there's a fluke and she gets chucked back in time to the beginning of tdpi (which was the last thing she'd been thinking abt before the experiment). however, maybe one or two episodes in, she decides to take charge in the situation she's going through and adopts a 'fuck it we ball' attitude abt the whole thing where she tries to be a different person--the kind of person she's always aspired to be like but amy had always belittled her for--and this makes her less of a pushover overtime and instead more bolder and persistent in getting as far as she can.

she makes new friends that she hadnt noticed or gotten the chance to become closer with when she initially was on the show. maybe ella & sammy friendship, jasammy, either scamy or scarlett & amy 'we're gonna betray each other' alliance OR scarlett & sammy 'friendship' OR a scarlett using manipulative tactics to play both sisters, etc etc.

both her version and dave's versions of this fic idea are different bc neither of them are fixated on the prize money. they have their own agendas for getting ahead of the rest. dave for revenge and beating sky; sammy for being the person she's always wanted to be and actually moving past the box amy placed her in.

third option (that i literally thought up like ten seconds after writing the sammy route):

COMBINE THE TWO OPTIONS, that'd be pretty sick ngl like dave's on the island when he flashes back and believes he's the only one in the past, but sammy, at the same time, had partaken in that experiment and flashed back to the past too; neither know the other is in the same predicament bc they try to hide it thinking they're the only one until like...later in when they start getting Suspicious and maybe some slip-ups occur bc they're tryna keep a low-profile but things happen y'know? they're 16 year olds who figured out time-travel exists, obv they're gonna fuck around and find out. possible alliance between the two once everything is out in the open? out of pure mutual beneficiary? it'd be funny bc both their personas are on opposing sides lmaoo dave & sky finale, with sammy and amy ending up post-merge? sammy's prob still gonna be in the final four, i think, but idk abt amy lmao i still think before amy gets eliminated she and sammy have a Confrontation bc i def need sammy to confront amy one way or another lmao that girl deserves it, they deserve a Heather & Lindsay Confrontation, sammy deserves to call amy a bitch on international television

ooooh and somehow scarlett finds out?? and tries to get her hands on the technology, but obv time is finicky so dave and sammy can't rlly allow that so they gotta stop her as a joint agenda while they have their own separate ones to deal with?? so this paves way for a true scarlett villain?? she'd make it to the final five or three, i think?

for this idea, there are gonna be multiple povs--dave and sammy's--and it's gonna be multi-plot too; dave and his conflict; sammy and her conflict; and how both alter the season bc of said conflicts and their attitudes abt them; plus the scarlett conflict

(y'know what i may end up going this route lmao bc i love both separate versions and im indecisive as fuck so my motto is if you can combine the options do it!)

#noahtally-famous #total drama #kit stuff #kit speaks #td dave #tdpi #td sammy #dashawn #picking petals #rewind repeat #total drama pahkitew island #answered #wooglebear

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thevampiresoc · 11 months ago

Text

ramble. under read more. also fixed pacing.

starting off with the ogs diego/gumball and doug those two. god. depressed jester to silly neighborhood old man pipeline. in canon he works at a library now where he sometimes puts on puppet shows. doug is no longer pathetic scared man he teaches geology for fun and as clean-up crew for crime scenes for normal. old probably 58? now? men living with peace and letting their past not get to them. and then matthew and sasha. god . their beef went from like "that purple doesnt match your pants" & "your hairs a mess" to geniune death threats and "YOU WERE MARRIED TO A DRUG SMUGGLER WHO'S SKIN WAS WHITER THAN SNOW" & "I'M NOT LISTENING TO A MAN UNDER 5'5" WHO CAN'T COUNT HIGHER THAN 8 IN ENGLISH WITHOUT USING HIS FINGERS". potato knows whos who. matthew 'ohh good lord what the fuck' to 'i'm PROBABLY traumitized but my boss wants me to go clean the Scary Hallway so I can't think about that right now' domino effect. is it affect? idfc. im in here saying bullshit. speaking of bullshit sasha went from "... please try and get better" to "*grabs you by your eye sockets* You Are Going To Stop Eating Twice A Day. Full Meals Are Not Just Seven Ritz Crackers™️©️ And Sour Cream."

and its great.

she still does taxidermy and murder. taxidermy's her side-job since she works as a welder now. shes in there with blowtorches welding shit. your car needs repairs? shes got it boss. oh yeah matthew working as a knight in rp-1 is funny if you consider how his main job went from freddy fazbears janitor to comfortably retired lighthouse keeper. OHHHHH CHARLES I ALMOST FORGOT CHARLES he died in canon. not really. you ever get zombied. yeah jhe got zombied. i should start breaking this up but i cant

snapshot at the start of the rp was just. fucked up guy with a dead wife and platoon with a pet mouse droid. he went into a coma so he didnt participate in order 66 and misses his wife. alot. but NOW? NOW???

okay so imagine walking out of a hospital room, disorented as shit and you go to find your wife jedi and fellow clones and when you DO find them shes just cut one in half with her light saber. Turning to you with fear, she almost chops your head off but you stumbling back and showing that your unarmed gets her to stop. "It was self defense," the jedi pleads for you to understand as your blood flows into your mouth, preventing you from screaming but you want to scream, need to scream.

You both are uneasy and fearful, trying to calm down. Order 66, something you just thought of as a far off nightmare to enact, had happened a mere few minutes ago.

years later, probably a decade, the tragedity now only becoming stale on your mind- a healing wound to your already mangled brain- you had been cut off from the "empire", hiding on fucking HOTH of all planets. You managed, sure, but it was still hoth… "Your" Jedi, surviving by faking her own death with you saying you had killed her, picking you up randomly only to tell you that your being relocated to a terrestrial planet. So called 'Retirement' in some barely populated town, living on a farm. Great.

nottt much really changed except for TMCs status. just that they upgraded from living in a shitty one room apartment to a still shitty apartment where the bedroom, living room, dining room and bathroom were seperate rooms. also parents. good for it.

neeed to traumitize that war machine

anyways my ocs going from eueueueuuuu to Can You Shut Up im going to Kill You With My Bare Hands is funny

conffession sometimes i watered downn my oc when using them. im shouting into the void but do you guys think you could handle he/him sasha. i feel like if i ever rp again with any of you itd be hell because ive just done so much stupid ass writing with my little sillies. like andreas' kingdom got slightly more fucked but id keep it silly for yall

#snapshot 76 #the metalcoffin #sasha ba #matthew #potato sometimes i feel like if i rp'ed with not watered down matthew where hes comfortable being feminine and masculine #shit would be bitching #like. imagine i start using matthew where he cannot give a shit and try and do emotions. or sasha where she willingly doesn't change her-#-expressions or tone.

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scatterpatter · 3 years ago

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Bruh, same with Mandela Catalogue though! XD Ironically, I've just started checking it out by myself and I agree on the comfort series thingy!(Typically, I have to watch reactions for horror stuff, but I'm getting better about watching stuff myself) Anyways, now it's on the 'comfort horror series' shelf right next to Walten Files-(/lighthearted) -Patrin Anon

Honestly, there is a serious comfort to horror sometimes! I'm no psychologist or whatever but I seriously believe it's that whole desire of stepping into something scary, something dark and dreadful and horrifying... but also leaving the user in absolute control. The comfort of it being fictional, the control of being able to turn the volume down, to pause or even just stop watching whenever it gets too much. The viewer is in control of the pacing and intensity in which they consume scary content and honestly I believe that's where the "comforting" aspect comes in for most- that love of being scared but the safety of the viewer being safe and in control no matter what.

On a more personal level, I feel that some medias hit to extra comfort when it's like... I don't wanna say relatable, but for lack of a better term, relatable, in a sense? I've struggled for years with episodes of... I dunno, delusions? Not sure what the appropriate word is, but a very real-life sense of "something inhuman is in here with me, and when it finds me I don't know what it will do but all I know is it will be bad", to put it in the most blunt terms without going into all the details of everything my mind has liked to throw at me. So I see certain media like The Mandela Catalogue and it's like... an extra level of comfort in that I feel almost... seen? I look at it and I can go "Yes, this is what it's like, this is what I feel like I'm experiencing sometimes!" That feeling of being not alone in what I go through- that others can take it and make it tangible(in a series with really good writing/worldbuilding/editing if we're still focusing on TMC so like bonus points) and yes it terrifies me but it also comforts me because it makes me feel less alone in what I go through, in a weird roundabout way.

And tbh thank heavens for the youtubers and streamers who deal with watching these videos "for" us because like... it's definitely way less scary when there's another "filter" through the scary stuff. Godspeed. YOU KNOW WHAT WE NEED TO BRING BACK THOUGH? COMMENTS THAT LIST THE TIMESTAMPS OF JUMPSCARES. CAN WE PLEASE BRING THAT BACK THATS WHAT GOT ME THROUGH FNAF WHEN I WAS YOUNGER-

Also ohhhhh yeah Ive heard so many good things about The Walten Files! I watched the first episode of it but never got around to watching the rest of the series but man it looks super unique and well-made... Im also biased because I still have one foot in fnafblr and the fnaf fans are eating that series up XD

Anyways I'm rambling, I just love the mandela catalogue A Lot and thank u i hope u have A Good Day

#ask to tag #since i mention a few mental health and horror related things- just shoot an ask if youse want me to tag anything on this #patrin anon #... can you tell ive had half of these rambles in the back of my head ready to go whenever the opportunity presented itself-

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just-dreaming-marvel · 3 years ago

Text

Tomorrow ~ Part 7

MASTERLIST

Word Count: 2,445ish

Summary: Steve’s still worried about you. The team helps you get that promised date.

Warnings: slight angst, fluff

< previous part

Tony was super paranoid to let you sleep or even leave your side after the incident that caused you to slip into your subconscious. You put up with it for the rest of the day, especially because he needed it. Steve’s bed was pushed closer to yours to make one big bed so that he could be next to you.

As the evening came, Tony fell asleep awkwardly in his wheelchair while Steve fell asleep with his head on your shoulder. You were almost too afraid to fall asleep but didn’t want to say anything.

“Hello,” Pepper greeted quietly, looking at the scene around her. She smiled. “It seems like worrying about you has worn them out.”

“It seems that way,” you responded quietly.

“You okay?”

“Can’t sleep.”

Pepper gave an understanding nod as she went behind Tony’s wheelchair. “I’ll get a doctor or a nurse in here to give you something. You need to rest.” She begins pushing Tony away.

“Pepper?”

The woman paused. “Yes?”

“Steve promised me some sort of date thing. I know that he’s going to stress about it and won’t be able to actually plan it because he’s unwilling to leave my side. Which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. But… could you help him? Like, don’t tell him I put you up to it, but help him so that it’s an enjoyable date for him as well.”

“Of course,” she smiled. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Pep.”

You closed your eyes after Pepper left with Tony, trying to get some rest. It wasn’t long later when you heard someone come in and inject something into your IV. You almost instantly fall asleep, so grateful for the rest.

~~~

Breathing in deeply, a sleepy smile formed on Steve’s face as your scent hit his nostrils. He carefully moved closer to you, pressing a kiss to your exposed neck. Steve leaned back and took you in. He loved the feeling of being next to you, especially in a moment like this when you were peacefully asleep and close to him. He longed to feel this way every morning, as much as he could. Steve smiles as he kisses you under your ear. You begin to stir slightly and he presses another kiss under your ear, beard brushing against your face.

“Morning,” you rasped, a smile forming.

Steve moved so that you could see his face. “Morning, sweetheart,” he whispered. “How did you sleep?”

You bit your bottom lip as you shook your head slightly. “Someone had to come in and give me drugs to help me sleep.”

“I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you wake me?”

“You needed the sleep too.”

“Not if you’re not getting sleep.”

“It’s fine, Steve. I eventually slept.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. And I didn’t even dream.”

Steve nodded, still worried. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine. I little uncomfortable but no pain.”

Steve immediately sat up and began assessing you. “What can I help with?”

“Steve.”

He rambled on, ignoring you. “Do you need me to call someone in?”

“Steve.”

He pushed himself off the bed. “I can go get—��

“Steve!” His eyes snapped up to meet yours. “You can’t fix how uncomfortable I am. My lower half is numb. I have tubes in me and a diaper on to help me go to the bathroom. It’s uncomfortable, that’s just how it is.”

His broad shoulders shagged slightly. “I’m sorry I can’t fix that.”

It broke your heart how disappointed in himself he sounded. “Steve,” you gently called, holding a hand out to him. “Come here.” He reached out and let you take his hand, pulling him back onto the bed and toward you. “You just being here fixes so many things.”

“I just want to fix everything.”

“I know. But you can’t… as long as you’re always here, that’s all I need.”

He leaned in and kissed you softly. “You can’t get rid of me easily.”

You pecked his lips. “Good.”

“Good morning,” Bruce greeted as he walked in with a tablet in hand.

“Morning, Bruce,” you responded, turning to face him.

“Looks like they gave you something to sleep last night. Rough night?”

“Just couldn’t fall asleep.”

Bruce nodded. “I’ll see if we can get something less addictive today for you. Besides that, how are you feeling, Y/N?”

“She said that she’s uncomfortable,” Steve quickly responded. “Is there anything we can do about that?”

“Uncomfortable doesn’t equal pain and it’s expected for her to be uncomfortable. Her body’s been through a lot, is still going through a lot.”

“That’s basically what I said,” you mumbled.

“Just remember this, Steve, her being uncomfortable is better than her being in pain. If she’s in pain, we know that something is wrong. Her being uncomfortable will usually not mean that something is wrong.”

“See?” You turned to Steve. “I’m alright.” You went back to facing Bruce. “And what about Steve? How is his recovery going?”

“From the scans, FRIDAY ran last night, he’s all healed up. The super-soldier serum of course had a big part in that.”

“That’s so good,” you smiled at Steve.

“I would advise that Steve clean up.”

“I’m good,” Steve replied. “I’m not leaving her side.”

“I’m good to stay with her while you get changed and cleaned up.”

“Steve,” you called, grabbing one of his hands to help gain his attention. “Bruce will be with me, I’ll be fine. You go get cleaned up.” You raised your hand to cup his bearded face, him bending slightly to meet you. “Maybe groom the beard a little, but don’t shave it.”

“I don’t know—“

“Steve. You literally don’t need more than twenty minutes to get cleaned up and changed. I’ll be fine. I promise.”

He held your wrist lightly, keeping your hand still as he turned and pressed a kiss to your palm. “Yeah… okay. I’ll be back.”

“I’ll be here.”

Steve leaned down and kissed your head before hurrying out of the room. He was almost to the elevator when he saw Pepper coming down the hall.

“Hello Steve,” she greeted.

“Hey, Pepper,” Steve responded.

“How are things going?”

“Good. I’ve been cleared so I’m going to go get cleaned up.”

“That’s great. Is there anything I can do for you or Y/N?”

“Actually, there is something.”

“Mhmm?”

“I promised Y/N a sort-of date thing today and you could really help get it set up. I want to make it as perfect as it can be in our given situation.”

“I can see what I can do. Just make sure that you’re presentable before our normal dinner time of 6.”

“Thank you, Pep. You’re an absolute lifesaver.”

~~~

Tony had joined you in your room, without his wheelchair, shortly after Steve had left. Bruce felt like he could slip out as you weren’t exactly alone and he knew that Tony would like some time alone with you.

“You hand me scared there, kid,” he muttered, absentmindedly playing with the edge of the blanket that was laying over you. “I thought you weren’t going to make it.”

“Well I’m here,” you tried to give him a small smile.

“I just… you’re my best friend…”

“You’re mine… I would have found a way to haunt you if I survived and you had died of a heart attack.”

Tony chuckled. “I don’t doubt it.” He carefully took your hand, holding it in between his very calloused ones. “Can you…” He let out a shaky breath. “Can you be honest with me about something?”

“Sure.”

“How are you?”

The simple question almost took your breath away. “I… I’m alive and I’m… uh, I’m still processing everything… It’s all been—“

“A lot.” Tony nodded. “I get it… so, you and Rogers?” He wiggled his eyebrows. “That escalated quickly.”

“Oh like you didn’t want it to.”

“I won’t deny that.” He sighed slightly. “I just didn’t want it to be like this.”

“Me too… Tony, can you be honest with me about something?”

“You know it.”

“Will I… okay, I know that I’ll never fully recover from this experience. There will be permanent scars, physical and mental, I know that. But… will I ever be able to go in the field again?”

Tony inhaled sharply. He knew that he had to tread carefully, and actually think before speaking. No one had talked about it, but it was kind of an unspoken, agreed-upon thing, that it would be a very long while before the team even entertained the thought of you going out in the field.

“I think that you should focus on rest and recovery right now,” Tony carefully advised. “You have plenty to worry about and focus on there.”

“Yeah,” you mumbled.

You knew that he was trying to be nice and positive about the situation, but you also knew Tony and the rest of the team very well. They weren’t going to let you out on the field until they were sure that you could hold your own. And after this, that might be never.

“Hey,” Steve greeted as he walked back into the room.

“Hey,” you smiled at him as he came around to sit next to you on the bed.

“Don’t worry, Cap, I’ve been watching your girl,” Tony commented, giving you a smile. “She’s a much easier patient than myself.”

“That’s good,” Steve replied. He turned his focus to you. “How are you feeling? Uncomfortable still?”

“I think I’ll be feeling uncomfortable for a while,” you responded. “But that’s okay.” Steve nodded, clearly not okay with that answer. “Steve.” You reached over and took his hand. “I’m okay. All I’m really worried about is if you’re going to keep your promise about that date?” A quick flash of remorse over Steve’s eyes made you regret saying what you did. “I-I-I’m sorry, Steve. I didn’t mean it like that. I was just trying to tease you, I’m sorry.”

“Oh, no, no, no,” Steve shook his head. “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad either. Of course, I’m planning on keeping that promise. How does dinner sound?”

“It sounds great.”

~~~

You were able to take a nap with Steve before Natasha and Wanda burst into your room. Wanda had a bag slung over her shoulder that was clearly overstuffed.

“Out Rogers!” Natasha ordered.

“Wh-what?” Steve groggily questioned. “Why?”

“You have a date tonight and we need to get her as ready as she can be.”

You could tell that Steve didn’t like the thought of leaving you again. So you cupped his cheek and got him to focus on you.

“I’ll be okay,” you whispered. “They’re just getting me dolled up for you.”

“You don’t need to get dolled up for me,” he replied softly.

“Yes, but I would like to.” You rubbed your thumb along his beard. “If you don’t want to leave, then just sit outside on the chairs. The girls will shut the door and blinds but you’ll be there if something happens.”

Steve took a deep breath and gave you a small nod. “Okay.”

“Okay.” You leaned in and gave him a kiss. “I won’t be long.”

He gave you a small peck on the lips before standing up. “I’ll just be outside.”

“Go, Rogers,” Natasha nagged. “She’ll be fine.” Steve kept his eyes on you as Natasha shut the door in his face and Wanda got the blinds.

“What are you even going to do, guys?” You wondered. “I can’t move my lower half. I have tubes and wires connected to me all over.”

“That doesn’t mean we can’t dress you from the waist up as best we can,” Wanda responded.

“I can’t even leave this bed.”

“That’s okay,” Natasha said. “Just trust us, Y/N, we have a plan.”

“And don’t worry,” Wanda added, “Bucky will take care of Steve.”

~~~

Wanda and Nat cleaned you up with wipes and damp washcloths before dressing you the best they could. You just let them do what they wanted to like you were a doll. You knew that arguing would be completely pointless. Once they felt like you looked good enough, a nurse came in and replaced any tubes and bags needing to be replaced.

“Alright,” Natasha smirked as the nurse left, “almost ready.”

“Almost?” You repeated.

“Wanda?”

“I got it,” Wanda replied, coming over with an eye mask.

“Are you really going to make me wear that?” You asked.

“It’s only for a few minutes.” Wanda guided the mask over your head and snugly put it against your eyes. “There.”

“I’m scared now.” You were slightly joking, slightly not, scared of the darkness that had succumbed you to.

Wanda could feel the part of you that was scared. She rested a hand on top of yours. “It’s alright, Y/N/N. We’re not taking you too far from his room.”

“Right.” You gave a nod.

Wanda and Natasha gave each other a small smile before unlatching the locks on the wheels to your bed and began moving your bed. They guided you out of your room and down the hall. You honestly had no idea where you were going, at all. Maybe if you had fewer drugs in your system you’d be able to tell exactly where you were headed. Eventually, they stopped your bed and locked the wheels.

“Okay,” you could tell Wanda was smiling as she spoke, “keep your eyes closed, I’m going to take the mask off.” You nodded as she did so. “Alright, have fun.”

“Wait, when I can open my eyes?” You asked.

“Now,” Steve gently directed.

You opened your eyes to see that the med-bay cafeteria had been decorated. Fairy lights were strung around the room, the only light besides the few candles on the table in front of you. Steve was standing in front of the table. You could tell he was nervous but you didn’t have the words to comfort him because you were just so in awe. Steve was standing there in black slacks and a dark blue shirt.

“Steve…” you gasped. “It’s…”

“Is it too much?” He asked. “I’m sorry if it is. I asked Pep—“

“It’s wonderful, Steve.” Tears pricked your eyes.

Steve rushed over and cupped your face to catch the tears. “Then why are you crying?”

“Because this is wonderful… you’re wonderful… and I’m stuck in this damn bed.”

“It’s okay, once you’re out of the bed, even in just a wheelchair, we’ll get out of this place and I’ll take you somewhere excellent.”

“I don’t need excellent… I just need you.”

Steve’s smile grew and he kissed you softly, still holding your face. “I just need you too.”

next part >

I no longer do tag lists. Please, just follow and interact.

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demontisms · 10 months ago

Text

okay so. let me explain how this au works logistically, the major changes im making (ramblings under the cut)

after season 7, sam "just started driving." and eventually hit a dog. ive decided instead of abandoning hunting and driving till he hit a dog, he takes off onto the road, doing little cases. he's not trying to save the world anymore, just help some people out.

and also i'm somewhat good-person-truthing rowena but also letting her suck a little. i never actually put this in there but ive had it in my mind for a while that she clocks sam as a hunter the SECOND she sees him. like tall flannel clad man with a gunshot wound and scars all over him and a profound sadness in his eyes and a weird energy? hunter, easily.

anyway.

he gets shot in the shoulder while doing what was supposed to be a salt and burn and doesnt have any supplies on hand to fix it, so he goes to an urgent care and because it's 2 am in a small town, theres only one other person in the building. a redhead nurse with a clearly fake american accent who calls herself caroline.

sam spots the red flags pretty quickly, but she's the one stitching up his shoulder, so he kind of ignores it, until she whispers something that sam distinctly recognizes as latin and he feels a healing spell start to take hold.

thats when the pieces fall into place and "caroline" drops the accent and tells him her story. she says that she's a witch who was pretty awful for a pretty long time and that she kind of drifts from place to place nowadays, working at small town hospitals and casting covert healing spells, never staying very long. sam smiles, and tells her he's also a drifter, and asks her if she wants to get a drink after her shift ends. she says she works nights, so if he wants to get a drink at 7 am they can, but she'd prefer to get breakfast with him.

and thats how they go on their first date.

so sam spends a few months with her, and he thinks "maybe i can actually make all this work", and he starts to imagine a life where they work out. and he starts to think maybe they can both give it all up and do the whole white picket fence thing. and then dean contacts him. and he tells "caroline" he has to go. and she gets really quiet. and she tells him to do what he needs to. so sam leaves.

fast forward to a bit past the halfway point of the season (in my mind this replaces 8x15 "Man's Best Friend With Benefits") and someone is killing crossroads demons. crowley calls the boys, asks them to figure out whos doing this and bring them to him in exchange for information or whatever. they agree, reluctantly. dean suspects witchcraft and they head out on the case, and sam spends half the case being all emo about his ex because it's a witchcraft case. he reads the thing ab how rowena created the spell to kill demons and how she was the only one who knew it. and eventually they find her, and come in guns blazing. and then sam freezes when he sees her, and goes "caroline?" and she's so startled to see him that she drops the spell and the crossroads demon goes free. cut to commerical.

after we come back from commercial, sam makes dean put his gun down and makes her explain what the hell is going on. she tries to run, telling sam that "i told you i didn't want to see you so i don't care why you're here, i'm leaving." sam grabs her by the wrist as shes walking out and uses his pathetic wet sad eyes to get her to stay. shes a sucker for him so she explains the whole "caroline" thing, she explains why she's killing demons, and then tries to go. dean explains the king of hell has a bounty out on her for killing demons and offers her protection if she keeps working with them. she works with them for an episode or two, not long enough to impact the season's main plot but enough for the audience to form a connection to her

then to dispose of her for the rest of the season we'll say she gets a lead on crowley (who she doesnt know is crowley yet) and has to go. but shes gonna come back when she finds out sam is dying after the trials and dean is gonna make her promise to not tell sam about gadreel possessing him to heal him and hes gonna say some shit like "if you care about my brother like i think you do, you are going to let me do this." and maybe we can do a destiel parallel with this somehow later this season. im not sure.

idk how we proceed from here im gonna be real bc it involves me rewatching the end of season 8 and i havent done that in a good bit of time so. ill be back with answers

season 8 au where the girl sam spent a year with is rowena. im trying to work out the logistics of it but in my mind theres a very tense scene where dean starts yelling at sam about "but she's a witch! you chose a witch over your brother?" and sam replies with "you came back from purgatory with a vampire!" and dean goes "he saved my life!" and sam goes "well she saved mine, okay, how about we call it even?" and dean is dean about it

#spn tag #the samwena season 8 au #this is how samwena can still win #samwena

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apocalypticgargoyle · 4 years ago

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Ok you amazing person. Demon Sapnap, but the reader is really sick or maybe is in an accident and ends up in hospital. Sapnap and Dream both visit and get jealous of eachother. Eventually Dream leaves and Sapnap is just there like 👁👄👁 And then after a day or two the reader is finally home and Sapnap is like really pent up because he has been jealous Horny and reader has been in hospital and he just rails them, but softly because reader is still weak. Basically jealous soft-dom Demon Sapnap.

This is just an idea- by no means do you have to write it :)

I'm begrudgingly writing Dre as Mr. Steal Your Girl for obvious reasons (/ j), but also I couldn't pass down this idea for incubus 3 ;) I'm also going to include a few other requests I had about Sap's backstory and some smut. enjoy!

𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐒 & 𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐒. ⛧ 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐮𝐛𝐮𝐬!𝐬𝐚𝐩𝐧𝐚𝐩 (𝟏𝟖+)

warnings: smut (18+), spanking, degradation, thigh riding, domination, literally quoting the b!ble

here's a playlist for those of you that were asking for it. i would love to see what the rest of you are listening to :)

previous part

You opened your eyes slowly, the ache in your body fully coming to your attention as you noticed the metronome of beeps coming from the machines connected to the tubes in your arm. You turned your head, squinting as your eyes struggled to focus on the figure beside you. After a few minutes, your brain pieced together his features and your heart eased when you realized it was Sapnap. For some, obviously ungodly reason, his presence brought you a sense of calm.

His feet were kicked up on the edge of your bed, his eyes scanning over a magazine as he chewed on his bottom lip absent-mindedly. He was dressed more casually than he usually was, probably an attempt at blending into the general public. You reached out a hand, fingers brushing against the soft material of his dark crewneck to get his attention. His gaze moved to look at you, a smirk painting across his pink lips.

You cleared your throat, tongue feeling like sandpaper. “What happened?” You grumbled, reaching beside him for the remote to elevate your head.

He watched your movements carefully. “You got a fever and then passed out cold,” he reminded you softly, making you groan. “Dehydration.” You couldn’t remember what he was talking about, only feeling nauseous in the middle of the night.

“How long have I been here?” You asked, rolling your head on your shoulders as your neck cracked, your limbs popping as you moved slightly. The IV pinched your arm as you moved, making you hiss quietly, making his eyes focus on where it was attached.

He hummed in thought. “A few hours. They wanna keep you until tomorrow, just in case you die or something,” he shrugged, tossing the magazine on the couch in the corner of the room.

You rubbed one of your eyes, a yawn rippling through you. “And why are you here?”

He chuckled. “Obvious reasons,” he stated, nodding towards the bite on your shoulder. “Also, Saint Dream was the first on your emergency contact list, so…” You pulled your knees to your chest as you looked at him.

“Even if it’s just because you have a quota to meet, I’m glad you’re here,” you muttered and something flickered behind his eyes, a smug expression tugging at his lips.

He leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, feet planted on the ground. “You’re not part of my quota, baby.” Your cheeks flushed at his words but before you could respond, he tensed up, eyes clouding with a darkened gold. They always shifted when something was intruding. You furrowed your brows at him. “Lupus in fabula venit enim ad me,” he mumbled darkly, the venom of sarcasm dripping from his voice as a knock came at your door.

Clay stuck his head through the threshold, eyes softening at you. Sapnap watched him silently as he stepped inside, rambling off how worried he was about you. Clay seemed to ignore Sapnap’s presence as he settled a batch of roses on your nightstand. Sapnap rolled his eyes and once Clay finally acknowledged him, he made a face like he was smelling something rotten. Sapnap looked like he was ready to snap Clay in half if he approached you closer, yet his dark demeanor didn’t dissuade Clay. In fact, it seemed like Clay was hell-bent on ruffling his feathers more, pulling up a chair on the other side of you.

“I didn’t think he would be here,” Clay commented, voice dipping slightly as his sights shifted toward Sapnap, irises flashing brighter. You perked an eyebrow at him.

Sapnap scoffed, leaning back in his seat. “I’m here because she wants me here,” he commented, nearly with a boasting tone. “So, it seems like I’m in the right role to ask what the fuck you think you’re doing.” You kept silent as the two played their game of wits and egos.

Clay smirked at him as if he was in possession of some esoteric knowledge. It dawned on you that you weren’t sure how old either of them actually was. You had dated Clay for god knows how many years, yet you learned more about his past from Sapnap than you had in any of the years you were together. “It’s still in her best interest that she be given options that don’t involve your kind,” he gritted.

Sapnap laughed shortly, a cockiness settling into his appearance. “Oh yeah? In her best interest or in yours, you selfish prick.”

Clay’s jaw tensed, a sigh flooding from his nose. “We can do this more maturely, you know? Like fucking professionals.”

Sapnap shook his head. “I’m not up for negotiating,” the stated bluntly. “Go near her again and I’ll report you,” he assured, his deadpanned stare making your heartbeat quicken.

Clay swallowed, eyes glued to Sapnap’s as the pair of them flexed their dominant personalities. Clay’s eyebrow twitched as if he had thought of something, almost mockingly. “Begone, Satan, inventor and master of all deceit,” he began, making Sapnap roll his eyes again before cutting into Clay’s quote.

“-enemy of man’s salvation. Give place to Christ in Whom you have found none of your works,” he mocked. “Try and exorcise me all you want, feather boy.”

Clay’s hand moved to curl around your wrist and Sapnap leaned against the bed, as if asking Clay to make his next move. “Be alert and of sober mind. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour-“

“Resist him, standing firm in the faith, because you know that the family of believers throughout the world is undergoing the same kind of sufferings,” Sapnap cantered without a thought. “It’s not even the right verse for this, stupid bitch,” he grumbled.

You cleared your throat, pulling your arm away from Clay and trying not to look as if you were slinking towards Sapnap. “You should leave,” you stated, Clay’s lips pursing at your words. “I need to rest.” Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Sapnap’s sly expression cutting into Clay.

After spending another night in the hospital, you were finally unlocking your apartment door and letting Sapnap help you out of your coat. You mumbled something about getting yourself a drink and he brushed you off, already doing it himself. Your mind was racing with questions after what you had witnessed between Clay and Sapnap. You hadn’t doubted the authenticity of Sapnap, but your mind still ran with what had happened to him. He handed you a water, sitting down on your couch as you paced slightly.

He broke into your thoughts. “Go on, tell me what you’re thinking,” he stated, unbuttoning his shirt slightly. You wanted to hex him about the fact that he probably already knew what was pounding against your temples to be asked.

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, rolling over your questions to censor some of them. “The bible’s been translated and reprinted so many times, how are you still…” you gestured with your hands, unable to explain where you were going with your statement.

He chuckled, brushing a hand against his chin. “It really doesn’t matter if it’s actually God’s word or not. It’s a guide, like an outline. Rules, I guess. Think about it like the Constitution.”

“I thought demons like… burned up when someone quoted the bible at them…”

His face fell a bit at this. “No, we just can’t read it,” his tone was almost regretful, sending guilt to pulse through your body because you had asked. “It’s like it’s in a completely different language, and each time I look at it, it shifts around the page. When you get dragged into hell, something happens with your eyes.” He huffed slightly, wetting his lips. “It's kind of like an isolation thing. He wants you to be completely aside from him.”

Your mind clicked, eyeing your heirloom display case. “Can I try something?” You asked, popping open one of the doors after he hummed in response. You fished out your grandmother’s rosary, the cross feeling almost heavy in your hands. You turned on your heel, bringing it closer to him before dangling it in front of him. His eyes drifted away from it, his gaze turning up to you. “Does this bug you?” You probed, making him snort. He took it in his hand, thumb caressing over the design.

He shook his head, chewing on his lip. “It’s a shameful thing really. I feel guilty whenever I look at this kind of stuff,” he muttered; you sat on the arm of his chair and looked over his shoulder. He turned, looping it around your neck. “Does it bug you?”

You held it away from your chest. “For different reasons, I guess.” You stood again, putting it back in its spot beside a photo of your grandfather. “Why’d you get kicked out?” You queried softly, peering over your shoulder.

He was watching you. “Maybe another time.”

“What about your childhood?” You asked. “Did you have one?”

“I know more about your childhood than I do my own. Why all the questions?” He countered with a soft laugh.

You shrugged. “I want to get to know you…” You mumbled, your hand drifting up to rest on your shoulder, feeling heat coming off of his scaring bite mark. “How do you know when to show up?”

He sighed, leaning his back against the chair and stretching his legs. “I can feel when you get anxious. Angels have some kind of block though, that’s why it took me so long to realize you needed me when that bastard was over here.” He shook his head almost like a new fire about Dream had been lit. His eyes flickered up to you. “Unless you weren’t scared.” You shook your head quickly at his joke. He chuckled. “How does it make you feel that I’m in your head sometimes?”

You approached him again. “Narcissistic,” you answered plainly, sinking to your knees before him. You ran your hands up his thighs, a smirk growing on his features as he sat up to be closer to you. “What happens after I die? Eternal damnation?” You questioned, as his hand went to brush against your arms.

He pressed his lips to your neck before digging his fingers into your hair as if he’d been waiting to touch you for days. You hummed as he kissed you, the slight scruff of his unshaven face feeling soft against your cheek. “You shouldn’t have to worry about that. I think I’ll make you immortal or something. Being with me should be enough damnation,” he jeered, making you laugh. “Most of my colleagues take the souls of their targets and leave, but I enjoy your company,” he teased.

“But you already have my soul, right?” The line felt strange coming from your mouth.

His lips brushed against yours. “There’s still an innocent piece of you that I haven’t tapped into. Everyone has it; I like it in you.”

Your eyebrows perked at this, fingers digging into his thighs to make him groan. “What do you mean?”

He kissed you briefly, actions getting needier the longer you were between his legs. “It’s completely pure. Untampered by sin or desire. When a demon gets it, they go feral,” he mumbled, nose pressing into the crook of your neck, teeth dragging across your skin.

You tilted your head to the side, fingers tracing over his zipper. “Take it from me,” you breathed, leaning into his touch.

“No,” he answered blatantly.

You moaned as his tongue slipped against your collarbones. “I want you to have it,” you continued, voice uneven. His fingers tugged at your hair.

His breath was warm against your shoulders. “I’ll take it after a few years. I don’t want it now.”

You pushed him away from you, his eyes already blown with lust as you looked into them. “You just said demons want it so badly. Take mine.”

He chuckled, hands dropping to your jaw. “No,” he repeated, voice light.

You sat back on your heels, looking up at him with a tilted expression. “Is mine not good enough for you?”

He wheezed. “No, it’s perfect. I just… After I take it, it’s like you’re dead. You’re not the same. Your humanity is gone.” He pulled you back up towards him. “I’ll take it when I’m ready to escort you to hell.”

You quipped an eyebrow. “Oh, so you just don’t want me to see your place?” You joked, making him roll his eyes. “Maybe Clay was right. What’s the verse about confession?”

His eyes darkened playfully. “For with the heart one believes and is justified, and with the mouth one confesses and is saved.” It was mind boggling how he could probably quote the whole Bible and was as… sinful… as he was. “Bring up Dream again, and I’ll make sure you can’t walk for a week.”

Your eyelashes fluttered. “You bargain for a fun game," you quipped.

He chuckled darkly. "It was more a light-hearted threat, dove," he muttered.

You sat forward and pressed your lips against his hungrily, letting him pull you into his lap as his fingers curled into the loose ends of your hair. Your fingers ripped at the buttons of his shirt, exposing his chest to you as he tugged at your own clothing. Your teeth dragged against his lips as his hips ground up against you, needy for friction.

You pushed your tongue into his mouth, moaning as his hands moved to your thighs, his blunt nails raking against your jeans. You rolled your hips against his lap, feeling him harden beneath you. He spread his legs further, coaxing you to grind against him as his hands pushed you down to rut against his leg.

You were breathless as you pulled away from him, one of his hands fisting in your t-shirt to bring you close to him, lips and tongue pressing against your neck. "I didn't tell you to stop riding my thigh," he commented darkly, bouncing his knee to make you moan.

Your hand wrapped around the wrist of his hand holding you in place, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth as heat spread across your body. He pulled your shirt over your head, your bare chest at his mercy. Your mind blurred at the sensation and the feeling of him sucking his mark into your skin, making it clear who you belonged to.

You moaned, digging your face into his neck as he rolled his hips against your leg. "Please, Sapnap. I need you," you whimpered, voice a soft whisper in his ear. He chuckled darkly, ripping your pants down your legs as you fumbled to unzip his slacks.

He pulled you onto him without warning, a groan leaving your lips as he suddenly filled you up. "Bold of you to beg for me after associating with that bastard," he bit, thrusting up into you. "I should tie you up and let you suffer for that."

You moaned at his dark tone, grinding your hips against him. Your lips ghosted against his as your cheeks began to feel warm from the stimulation. "I might like that," you jested, your sentence breaking with your voice as he harshly grabbed your hips, driving himself into you harder.

"You're lucky you're still weak," he nipped, voice swirling with lust and power. "I'd throw you over my knee for that comment." His fingers dug into your hips, grinding against you as you bounced on top of him. You moaned at his words. His hand snaked up to wrap around your throat, threatening to apply pressure as he continued to direct your movements, thrusting into you at a deep and reserved pace. "Dirty girl. You want me to punish you, don't you?"

When all you could do was mutter a small beg, he pulled you closer to him, lips meeting yours in a mess of hair, teeth, and tongue. He moaned into your mouth, the taste of his breath was addictive and bliss-inducing.

He pulled you off of him and onto the couch beside him, slipping his shirt the rest of the way off. "I'll fuck the angel lover out of you," he joshed, a hand coming down sharply across your ass; the pain making you moan his name, hands gripping the couch as he pressed your shoulders into the cushion.

He dragged your hips into the air, pushing into you again, rocking his hips against yours with a small grunt. His teeth were sharp against your skin as he pounded into you and an animalistic pace, your mind numbing at the feeling. He pushed your knees further apart to pump himself deeper into you.

You moaned as his weight settled on the hand pinning you to the couch, your hair sticking to your sweaty face as he spanked you again, hand gripping your irritated skin. "Good girl. Take it," he nearly growled, making your skin crawl with an added layer of pleasure. While his pace and mannerisms were ruthless, he was definitely holding back, knowingly going easy on you because of your already weak body. That didn't mean he wasn't reminding you of your sour attitude as he pulled your arm behind your back, his hips snapping against your own to firmly instill his name in your mind.

You reached for the arm rest, a grounding element for you as his motions drove you over the edge in a teeth gritting orgasm, boy flushing with goosebumps under his command. You rocked your hips back against him as he pulled out, jerking himself off instead of giving you the satisfaction of finishing him off.

You groaned as you turned to look at him. "Feeling okay?" He asked, pressing his lips to your shoulder blade. You shook your head quickly and his eyebrow quipped ever so slightly. "Good," he stated, pulling you up and onto the ground in front of him again. He grabbed your cheeks. "I still don't think you've learned," he muttered, leaning back into his previous position. "Blow me," he directed, tucking an arm behind his head. "And with the mouth, one confesses and is saved, remember," he taunted.

Your eyes flashed up to his devious expression as he leered at you from his commanding spot.

It was going to be a long night.

And you were ready for it.

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#incubus!sapnap #sapnap smut #sapnap x reader #sapnap imagine #sapnap au #sapnap x y/n #mcyt fanfiction #mcyt x y/n #mcyt smut #mcyt imagine #incubus au

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sinfulcries · 4 years ago

Note

hi im new to ur blog and im loven all of it soo ummm can i request possessive yandere male reader and bottom kenma??? non con

what’s best for you — kenma x reader

author’s notes: FUCKXXKKX im not in the writing mood im so sorry it takes me so long to post 😭 ive also been playing lots of minecraft if anyone wants to play w me hmu. also this is more dubcon i hope you don’t mind!

tw. yandere reader, manipulative && possesive reader, car sex, dry humping, abuse, dubcon

You adored Kenma. He was your love, your little prince, someone that you would wholeheartedly devote your life too. Hell— You would even kill for him! Emotionlessly ripping out the hearts of those who ever hurt him.

Though you acknowledged the fact that he was amazing— he was also vulnerable. And knowing this, you made sure to protect him and watch him at all costs, making sure that he was safe and no one placed their filthy hands on him.

As you saw the setter, /touching/ and /smiling/ at the disgusting cashier however, You clenched your fist, A nasty frown replacing your bright smile as you glared at the two in distaste. How could you let him go out like that alone?! You felt like an idiot! And once he came walking back to you with a slight smile on his face, you could only smile back hoping that he wouldn’t be able to see just how mad you really were.

“So what were you two talking about?” You asked, being careful not to startle the shorter male. Kenma however only eyed you excitedly before rambling about how he talked about the newest video games and the latest gaming technology with the innocent cashier.

How could he look so happy after talking with a stranger? It was odd yet the thought only infuriated you, fishing your keys out of your pocket before unlocking your car.

“Get in the backseat.”

“Wha—“

Giving no time for the blonde to utter another word, You rubbed your temple before wrapping a hand around the male’s throat. “I said get in the fucking backseat.”

Kenma saw the dangerous glint in your eye and it only made him gulp, fear bubbling in his stomach as he thought of what he had done to make you so /angry/.

Reluctantly opening the car’s doors, He slowly made himself comfortable in the back seat, Your larger figure following suite before you made sure to lock your vehicle.

“Y/n what are you—“ Kenma was cut off with your lips on his, Your hand coming down to cup his ass possessively making him gasp. “Didn’t I tell you that nice people are only trying to take advantage of you?”

Kenma furrowed his eyebrows, attempting to push you away only to have your grip on his body tighten. “You mean the c-cashier? We were only talking about games! H-He seemed nice!” The shorter male protested, A loud whimper leaving his lips once you started to ground your clothed cock against his smaller one.

The blonde almost came feeling his cock twitch against yours— The friction too good for him to barely think straight. And though he wanted desperately for you to stop, his body sinfully craved for more.

“You know i’m the only nice person, kitten. I only want to protect you. I want what’s best for you.” Manipulating him was easier said than done with how intelligent the male was however, after a few well planned lies and half hearted i love you’s, he’s practically putty in your hands.

As Kenma bucked his hips upwards to meet your shallow thrusts, you quickly wrapped a hand around his throat, pushing his head back onto the seat with one harsh slam. “Y/n s-stop please I—“

He could barely breathe! Your hold on his throat only making him struggle against you and as he tried to rip away from your grasp, a sinister grin instantly wormed its way onto your face. “I only want what’s best for you. And if I have to show you some of my morals once more, I wouldn’t mind fucking them back inside of you, Kozume.”

#sinfulcries works #dark content #seme male reader #haikyuu x male reader #top male reader #dark blog #hq smut #dark haikyuu #x male reader #dark hq #tw dubcon #tw yandere #kenma smut #kenma x reader #haikyuu x reader #kenma x male reader #kenma kozume #kenma kozume x male reader

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iwadori · 4 years ago

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When they leave you on your wedding day (Sakusa, Bokuto)

Genre: angst

Word count: 1.7K

masterlist

Sakusa’s will make more sense if you read this you don’t have too but it’ll help.

Sakusa:

“Y/N,” you hear knocks on the door outside your dressing room “I-I need to talk to you.”

“But Omi, a groom must never see their bride until they meet at the alter,” you say behind the door.

“I-It’s important, and I must tell you right now.” he says a bit more intensely

“Okay, Okay... you can come in but im hiding in the closet since my dress is already on.”

“Ok.”

You hear the door open and shut, and a lot of pacing around of what you can presume was his fresh wedding shoes trotting against the hard wood floors.

“Omi,” you call wondering why he hasn’t spoken yet “Is everything okay?”

“Umm yes I-it's fine...it just I-” he says pausing

“Just what?”

“I don’t really know how to say this Y/N, I don’t really know how to say it’s just-” he says again pausing himself taking a deep breath.

“Just what Omi? Don’t tell me you’ve got cold feet love,” you say laughing at the thought of it, but your laughter ceased when you don’t hear the ‘Of course I don’t have cold feet Y/N’ that you were expecting.

“Omi?” you asked again, hoping he had he was still going to give you the response you wanted.

“Omi..” you repeated.

“Omi!” you say finally, now exiting the room (with your wedding dress on) to see why your fiance was not responding.

To your shock, Omi was sitting down on a couch with his face in his hands with soft sobs coming from his mouth and runny tears and snot coming from his eyes and nose. “Omi whats wrong?” you say loudly, alerting him,

“Y/N you look beautiful!” he says sniffling.

“Omi you were meant to say that at the alter, but now that your crying forget about the dress... what’s wrong?” you say sitting down next to him.

“I don’t know how to say this...” he starts, looking away from you

“Say what? Omi look at me...” you say feeling anxious

“We...We can’t get married today,” he says still with his eyes off you.

“What do you mean, we can’t get married.” you ask but you get no answer,

“Omi answer me,”

“Say something please!” you say turning his body so that he’s facing you, his eyes are all puffy and bloodshot from the crying and now tears are filling yours “What do you mean Omi,”

“Remember Ex’s name?” he says confusing you cause what did she have to do with anything.

“Yes I remember her, I remember vividly being the girl you cheated on her with after you claimed you were ‘breaking up with her’ so I had to tell her.” you scoff “so yes, I definitely remember Y/N, what about her?”

“We recently umm how can I say this,” he says struggling for words “reconnected... and I do truly miss her and she’s made me rethink some things, see some things...”

“And those things are?”

“I’ve always loved her, she’s always been my one. The one.” he says smiling a bit at the thought of her making you feel sick.

“But Omi what about us? What about the wedding that’s going to happen in less than an hour?”

“Im sorry Y/N I’ll tell everyone what has happened.”

“I don’t want you to do that, I want you to marry me.” you say desparetly “please Omi, why her? Why now..”

“It’s always been her, and you’ve known that.” he says standing up “The day you told her about our ONE NIGHT stand, was the day that I thought I couldn’t live on, but when you came and accepted the pathetic mess I was, I gladly dated you since I had nothing else to loose...but its been 4 years since then I'm a changed man and EX NAME is a changed girl, a forgiving girl and the spark we had wasn’t lost I guess...and Im happy now”

“But what about me?” you say crying “What about me? And my happiness, don’t I deserve that? Don’t I deserve to finally be happy.”

“Y/N, you do deserve to be happy. But not with me, not at the stake of my own happiness, I wont allow it.”

“Omi bu-”

“God Y/N, don’t be so desperate!” he said agressively “Im sorry for stopping the wedding, I know your parents have put in alot of money in it and I will certainly pay them back... in due time of course.”

“You’re sorry for stopping the wedding?” you say angrily “Not sorry for stopping this relationship. Stopping the longlasting feelings ive felt for you since the day I met you?”

“Cut the crap Y/N, all we did was have one night stand.” he says rolling his eyes and unbuttoning his top botton of his shirt and loosening his tie I dont know why but this Is what guys do when theyre mad in the movies.

“Your such a liar Omi, you used to come into my work place everyday flirting with me talking about how much you wanted me, PINING AFTER ME, making me fall in love with you and not even telling me you had a girlfriend at the time.” you yell “and you summarise that all to me falling in love with you after one measly one night stand.”

“I don’t want to do this Y/N,” he says heading to the door “We’re finished. No more wedding. No marriage. And definitely don’t contact me after this. We’re through.” he slams the door behind him, leaving you alone and jilted in your wedding dress.

You get why he broke it off with you, and technically you do play a small part to blame. You were the one that told his girlfriend that you slept with him and then dated him afterwards, so I guess ‘how you get them, is how you lose them’ definitely works in this case.

Bokuto

The bokuto and L/N wedding was going to be a joyous occasion. Your soon to be husband told everybody he saw that he were to be wed with you, he couldn’t contain his excitement.

“Bokuto calm down, we’ll be married soon.” was what you always said, whenever he started his rambles to which he always replied “I know Y/N, I cant wait.”

When it came to your grand day, you were excited from the moment you woke up you were buzzing, wondering if Bokuto was feeling even a half of the feelings that you felt.

You looked beautiful in your dress, anticipating the look on Bokuto’s face when he sees you at that alter. Your wedding party was already at the hotel you were getting married at whilst Bokuto’s got ready at the houe and decided to drive there.

So after you got ready, all you had to do is wait for Kuroo, one of Bokuto’s best men, to tell you when it’s time for you to walk down the aisle.

You were impatient, your leg was shaking now you knew how Bokuto felt when he rambled on how excited he was for you to become Bokuto Y/N. You finally heard a knock on the door and you dashed to open it,

“Kuroo, thank god you’re here!” you exclaim giving him a hug “I’ve been waiting ages for you, lets go! Take me to my future husband.” You pull his arm practically trying to run and see your man before Kuroo pulls your arm halting you.

“Y/N...” he says shifting his eye sight from left to right “I think we should sit down for a minute.”

“Why? Is he not here yet, gosh he’s always been late to things” you joke “but fine we can sit for a minute or two.”

As you sat, Kuroo turns his body to you putting his hands on your knees with his eyes looking sad “Y/N. I don’t know how to say this but...” he gulps putting his head down “there’s been an accident.”

“Accident? What do you mean accident? What happened? Is everyone okay.” you ask a bit frantically, since it would sad for someone to be hurt on your wedding day.

“That’s the thing Y/N, Bokuto he..”

“Bokuto what? He’s okay.. Right?” you ask staring at Kuroo “He’s fine right?”

“No he isnt,” he says

“What do you mean he isn’t what happened, where is he? I need to see him.” you say getting up before Kuroo pulls you back down.

“He isn’t anywhere... well anywhere for you to see him. There weren’t enough cars for us, well there were but one of them the engine wasn’t starting and it sound a bit dodgy. But Bokuto said, he insisted for us all to be there. I even offered to let him take my spot in the other cars, I did Y/N I really did, but he promised us that he’d be fine. He left a bit before he did, saying that if he had chance to wander around the hotel it may calm his nerves. But when we were driving, we saw this car all mangled up on the side of the road, it was his. I told him not to drive that car, I told him and he did and I-” he rambled with tears pooling in his eyes “Im sorry Y/N im really sorry.”

“But why why didn’t you call?”

“He told us not too, he said that he wanted you be to as happy as you could be on this day as he knew it wouldn’t end with you becoming his wife.”

“But the ambulance, you called an ambulance right?”

“He was D.O.A, Akaashi went with him since he knew that he probably wouldn’t be able to deliver the news to you.”

“Why? Why did he leave me? On our wedding day, it was supposed to be our day and now hes gone Kuroo hes gone.” you wail, but kuroo wraps his arms around you in a brotherly hug as he cries too.

That’s how you spend your wedding night, crying in your friends arms over the loss of your ‘husband’ and his ‘brother.’

Bokuto’s funeral was the week after, and it was not an event you were excited for. It was a hard day to get through, but you did it with the help of Kuroo and Akaashi. You visit Bokuto every year on your wedding anniversary talking to your husband even though it always reminds you of the day that never came to be.

This is the wedding angst that is a gift from me to you sweetheart @teesumu you can totally block me after this cause girll I cried whilst writing it.

If you want a nice ending to the bokuto story to make you feel better read this

General taglist [bold can’t be tagged]: @sakuxxi, @iimoonii, @hamdehlesmis, @Shoyosupremacy, @iambashfulperson, @kayleighbeccaa, @dearkousei, @bakugouswh0r3, @xedspirits @borpcorp, @soft-angel-clouds, @foxxtrot-116 @Xogiaaa, @jesssobs, @apple-poptarts @galagcica @letssssus, @random-734, [join the taglist here]

#signedwithane😌#haikyu angst #haikyu headcanons #haikyu scenarios #haikyu #haikyuu x reader #bokuto x reader #bokuto angst #bokuto scenarios #sakusa angst #sakusa x reader #sakusa scenarios

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tommysparker · 3 years ago

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Never Forget You [Chapter 4]

A/N: hey y’all. just wanna say sorry for the posting schedule change. life is about to get hella hectic with school and the move sooo yeah. every second Saturday I will be posting! it’ll defiantly give me a chance to write more as well so im not rushing out chapters. anyways ive rambled long enough, enjoy :)

Warnings: angst. theres fluff too but its fluffy angst?? im not sorry hehe. long italic paragraphs = flashbacks.

From an outside perspective, one would assume the four of them were deep in thought, perhaps even communicating telepathically via the Force. They would only be half correct, as all of the Jedi were indeed thinking, but none of their trains of thought overlapped.

Anakin and Ahoska were in the pilot seats, glancing at each other every other minute or so. They could feel the tension build thicker with every passing planet. The only sound filling the room was the faint running of the engine that kept the ship moving.

You and Obi-Wan sat across from each other, neither one daring to make eye contact. Apparently, he was quite serious about the “not speaking from now on” agreement. It’s for the best, you kept telling yourself. However, the awkward silence that filled the ship made it harder to believe that.

Out of all the things that could happen to you at the moment, this was by far the worst.

On Gyfil, you had grown quite used to the sound of silence. In fact, over time you began to prefer it as opposed to the buzz of the towns. However, this was a different type of silence, one that had you bouncing your knee in anticipation for Anakin to announce you finally landed.

Master Yoda had called you all for a mission briefing. There was a supposed Separatist group meeting on Ostor, given the intel you received from a client on your previous mission. The four of you were sent to listen in on it.

“Young Skywalker and Padawan Tano, back up you will be. Great risks on Ostor, there are. Careful, you must be.” He turned to Obi-Wan and You. “Master Y/l/n, guide them you must do. In charge of the mission, I am putting you.”

A sense of pride filled your body but you quickly humbled yourself. “Thank you Master.”

Master Yoda smiled and turned to Obi-Wan. “Infiltrate the meeting, you and Master Y/l/n will. Stay together, you must.”

Obi-Wan would have laughed at the irony. Mentally he still is. Stay together, you must. After the last conversation between the two of you, he had doubts about how that plan would go. However, for the sake of the mission he was willing to lift the deal made.

You stood quietly, not being able to handle the loud silence any longer. “I’ll be in my quarters until we land,” you announced, making a point not to look at Obi-Wan and keep all attention to Anakin and Ahsoka.

You left without sparing a glance back.

He waited until you were out of view to let out a long sigh, running a hand over his beard and hunching forward.

Anakin was the first to speak. “That was the worst thing I’ve ever had to endure.” His shoulders shook as he made a disgusted sound. “Glad it’s finally over.”

“Just focus on getting us there in one piece, Anakin,” Obi-Wan snapped, immediately followed by, “apologizes, I didn’t mean to sound so...aggressive.”

“So much for being able to hide stress, huh?”

He smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Some things are harder to deal with than others.”

“Is Master Y/l/n ‘some things’?” Ahoska asked innocently.

Obi-Wan pondered for a minute, deciding the best way to answer. “Master Y/l/n is...many things.”

“Like what?”

Gorgeous. Strong. Kind. Perfect in every way. “They are highly skilled, almost as well as I am, if not better. A fine Jedi and a valuable member to the Order.” He stopped there before he’d say something he’d come to regret. Best to keep professional thoughts.

“I still don’t understand why the Council sent them away like that. Surely there were other Jedi that could have completed the mission,” Anakin commented. He knew his former Master wasn’t satisfied with the answer they were all given but would never admit it. He had to push him to find the truth.

“Whatever reasons Master Yoda and Master Windu had for picking Y/n are between them. You must stop questioning the Council’s intentions, Anakin. It will land you in very big trouble one day.” Obi-Wan says as if he hasn’t second guessed the Order as a whole before. Ignorance is bliss, as they say. The less you question things, the easier life is.

“That’s why I keep you around, old man,” Anakin said in a teasing manner. Hearing Obi-Wan let out a light chuckle made him feel a bit better as they settled into silence once more, this time more comfortable and light-hearted.

A bit more time had passed before Ahsoka spoke up. “Why don’t you ask Master Y/l/n what really happened?”

Obi-Wan sighed. He should have known better than to believe she would drop the topic. Like Master, like Padawan. “It’s none of my business. Frankly, it’s none of ours so I suggest we leave the subject alone.”

His answer, apparently, wasn’t good enough. “I’m gonna go ask them.” Ahsoka stands up to leave but is stopped mid-movement by Obi-Wan’s protests.

“No!” He looked at Ahsoka’s slightly stunned face, and chose to ignore Anakin’s smug look. “Fine, I’ll ask them. But only once, and if they don’t want to indulge me then that is the end of it. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal.”

Meanwhile, you sat alone on the bed in your chosen quarters. It made you feel relaxed, in a way. Before leaving, you were extremely extraverted, always going out of your way to make acquaintances with everyone around you. The life forces around you at night kept you alive, it gave a sense of warmth and comfort to lull you to slumber. On Gyfil, there was none of that. You had to rely on your own warmth to comfort yourself to sleep. No lush trees or animals to provide even the smallest bit of connection. It was just You and the Force. Sleeping for the first time in the Jedi Temple after returning felt like a sensory overload. Everything was loud, and rough. You could feel it coursing through your veins at the speed of light. No matter what you did, it was too much.

You didn’t sleep the first few days. Eventually you got used to the noise, but not enough to get a decent amount of rest at night. There was one sound that sometimes made it impossible to sleep, one Force signature that kept trying to break through the walls you put up to protect yourself when you’re most vulnerable. What scared you the most was the fact your own signature subconsciously fought back against the walls you put. You refused to acknowledge it, choosing to fall into a deep meditative slumber and stay alert as opposed to any actual sleep. Whoever it was would not get into your head so easily.

Knock knock. Obi-Wan stepped into the room once his presence was made known, gently shutting the door behind him. “Y/n…”

You looked up and squinted at him. “I thought we agreed to not speak?”

“Yes, well, that proves to be a bit tricky now doesn’t it?” He smiled tightly and crossed his arms over his chest.

You huffed out air in a sorry attempt at a sarcastic laugh, shaking your head a little. “What do you want, Obi-Wan?”

It was neither hostile nor endearing. It was simply his first name. To him you sounded tired, and judging by the way you sat on the cot, leaning back against the cold metal wall with your eyes half opened, he presumed his assumption was correct. He spoke gently, “Anakin estimates we should be coming out of hyperspace and landing soon.”

“I figured.” It wasn’t your intention to be stoic but that's how you’ve been training yourself to speak to the man in front of you. The faster the conversation ends, the faster he leaves.

Obi-Wan, however, was not having it. “How are you feeling? I know it hasn’t been that long since you returned from your previous assignment.”

You shrugged, staring up at the ceiling. “I’m fine.”

“No one who says that is ever truly ‘fine’ Y/n/n,” he says, taking a step closer to the bed. “I know you. What’s on your mind, darling?”

You slowly met his gaze, debating whether to open up or keep yourself closed off. On one hand, the idea of exposing your anxieties to someone didn’t feel right to you, letting someone know about your weaknesses and insecurities. However, you knew in order for the mission to succeed you would have to be willing to work with Obi-Wan and to do that a sense of trust had to be built. Rebuilt, technically.

“If you wish not to speak, I understand.” He hesitated turning his back to you, “excuse me.” He was about to make his leave before you interrupted.

“Obi-Wan, wait,” You sighed, shifting so there was room for him to sit on the bed. “Sit.”

He did as he was told, eyeing you carefully. “Honestly, I don’t mean to pry.”

“It’s fine.” You knew his intentions and as pure as they were you cannot bring yourself to tell him the truth. “I admit that I...am slightly concerned about the mission.”

It wasn’t the answer Obi-Wan was hoping for, but he was willing to hear anything he could get out of you. “You have nothing to be worried about Y/n/n. You’re an extremely capable Jedi and I have no doubt in my mind you will lead us through it.”

You smiled, only slightly but a smile nonetheless. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He smiled back.

Your eyes locked tight with each other, and everything around you became emptiness. A void surrounded you both and the presence of the other was all that could be felt.

“Staring competitions are pointless.” You rolled your eyes, sitting up straight and attempting to return your meditative state.

“No they aren’t!: Obi-Wan argued from his spot across from you.

“All you do is stare at each other until someone blinks. Waste of time.”

“Nuh uh. Master Qui-Gon told me that--” Obi-Wan stood up, “--‘The eyes are a window to the soul’--” you laughed at the bad attempt he made to mimic his Master;s voice, “--therefore staring competitions can be a very good battle tactic.”

“Jedi don’t do battles, remember? We’re peacekeepers.” You looked up at your friend. “Besides, you just want an excuse to get lost in my eyes.”

Obi-Wan grinned. “You know me so well.”

So much has changed about the man in front of you, you could hardly recognize him. You never allowed yourself the pleasure to examine what you missed out on. One moment he was a young man who looked like he could take on the universe, and now all you could see was one tired man doing his best. Oh, how the mighty have fallen, is what the old You would have teased. But post-living-ten-years-by-yourself You was different. In a way, you understood. Although you didn’t fight any life-threatening battles and put yourself in the line of fire every week, you have worked tirelessly towards the same goal.

Peace.

Like this moment.

For once, it was quiet. You felt yourself relax slowly, focusing on the one noise that soothed your anxious mind. It felt warm and...close. Something you haven’t felt in a long, long time.

Obi-Wan leaned closer, his heart reacting faster than his brain. He felt a warmth he had been longing for over a decade. When he reached out, he no longer felt desolate. He wanted to hold on to the feeling and never let go.

But alas in time of war, small moments of peace only last for so long.

“Hey! We’re here.”

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reblog and comment what will happen on the mission 👀👀

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scones-and-texting-and-murder · 4 years ago

Text

Bookends

(This story was originally written for and published in the DeanCas Anthology back in 2018. )

Word Count: 2223 Rating: General ao3 link

Cas pulls as close to the door as he can, checking the rearview mirror to make sure he isn’t blocking traffic as he waits for Dean to get out of the car. Before heading inside, Dean ducks his head back in to smile at him. “I’ll get us some coffee.”

Instead of driving away, Cas stays there, watching until Dean pulls open the diner door. Leaning heavily on his cane, he shuffles more than walks, his bow-legged gait made stiff by the arthritis that wracks his joints. Cas waits until he’s safely inside, then pulls past the open handicapped space Dean stubbornly refuses to use, and finds an empty parking spot.

Cas’s car is boxy and utilitarian, and Dean often proclaims that he wouldn’t be caught dead behind the wheel of something so ugly. Cas plays along because giving up driving had been Dean’s toughest concession to age, but as his vision deteriorated and his reflexes slowed, it had become an unavoidable sacrifice. With replacement parts for the Impala harder and harder to come by, Dean had finally agreed to keep her stored safely away in their garage. Cas knew it pained him to see her shrouded under a tarp, her motor idle and useless, but Dean would rather enshrine her in pristine condition than risk one more run-in with a light pole or curb.

With his ugly car parked, Cas crosses the lot to join Dean inside. While he’s aged as well, aged to the point that nobody questions the two of them together, he’s been spared many of the maladies that Dean’s combat-wrecked body has endured, and he moves with relative ease. The best they can figure is that the grace he’d had on and off over the years left his body with a certain resilience to the passage of time. Cas can’t cure Dean as he once could, can’t ease the aches or slow the aging process, but he can use his own comparatively good health and mobility to take care of him.

Inside, Cas navigates past the hostess stand to find Dean at their usual booth, chatting with their usual waitress. The two of them go to this diner religiously each Sunday morning, where the pews are scuffed burgundy vinyl booths and the altar is the breakfast buffet with the generous senior discount. As always, Dean has maneuvered himself across the bench seat to make room for Cas to sit beside him. His cane rests against the wall in easy reach, the simple carved wooden handle belying the fact that the base unscrews to reveal a bayonet-like tip. It’s never been wielded as a weapon (although Dean uses it, still sheathed, to poke at aggressive pigeons who muscle in around their favorite park bench), but that potential made it “badass” enough to overcome Dean’s resistance to using it.

To Sam’s everlasting chagrin, Dean has kept all of his hair, and it’s turned a stunning silver. The crinkles around his eyes have deepened, meeting the roadmap of lines that cross his face. His shoulders are stooped, his joints are stiff, and Cas thinks he’s never been more beautiful. After so many seemingly certain ends, so many years assuming Dean would die young and bloodied, the fact that he’s living out a full, lengthy life is an unparallelled blessing. Cas marvels at the gift of days that have unfolded into decades, granting them time he never dreamed they’d have together here on earth.

As Cas settles into the booth, he smiles and greets their waitress.

“Two for the buffet?” she confirms as she pours their coffee. Cas doesn’t even have to check to know that she’ll leave Dean’s at a little more than half-full so he can lift it without the tremor in his hands sloshing it over the brim.

They drink their coffee quietly, simply enjoying the ritual of being here. Dean peers at the laminated card that lists the specials, even though he never orders off the menu.

“Shall I?” When Dean nods, Cas gets to his feet. “Any requests?”

“You know what I like,” Dean says, leaning over to swat at Cas’s butt.

Picking up two plates from the warmer, Cas slides them along the metal counter, filling them in tandem as he traverses the buffet. Pancakes are too difficult for Dean to get on a fork, but the crisp waffles are good. Bacon he can pick up and eat, and Cas uses the tongs to place precisely two strips on his plate. If Dean wants more, he can get up and get it himself.

Dean can argue with Cas’s choices, but they’d had a hell of a scare a few years back. Cas will never forget the look on Dean’s face when their phone rang in the middle of the night, alerting them that Sam had been taken to the hospital in an ambulance. They’d rushed there themselves, Cas driving in silence, knowing that nothing short of seeing Sam with his own two eyes could reassure Dean. Thankfully, it had been a mild heart attack and, after spending a few days in the hospital, the discharge plan called for cardiac rehab and an appointment with a nutritionist. With Sam’s release imminent, Dean had relaxed enough to crow at the irony. “Don’t either of you try to tell me what to eat ever again. Mr. Organic Produce is the one lying in the hospital bed while my pork-rind-fueled ticker is going strong.”

Still pale, Sam’s brow furrowed with resignation. “I’m beginning to think you can’t die.”

Dean jabbed a finger in his direction. “You don’t get to go first. We have a deal.”

“Yes, sir.” Sam lifted the hand without the IV in a mock salute.

“That’s more like it,” Dean said. “Speaking of which, I need a snack.”

Cas helped him up and they walked to the elevator that would take them to the cafeteria. As they waited for it to arrive, Dean pulled Cas into a hug. Cas left a hand on his shoulder when they stepped apart again. “All right?”

Dean nodded, his green eyes shining with tears. “I’m glad you’re here.” Cas started to respond, to remind him that there was nowhere else he would be, but Dean cut him off. “I know you know. But I wanted to say it anyhow.”

Cas noticed a change after that. Dean was still the same stubborn mule Cas had fallen in love with, but he gradually became more willing to let Cas help. And somehow, Cas loved him even more for it. He loved seeing the slow-blossoming acceptance that came when Dean stopped seeing Cas’s help as a sign of weakness.

Now, standing in front of the steaming trays of food, Cas considers what else to add to their plates. He bypasses the cauldron of oatmeal (they eat that at home most mornings) and continues along the buffet. There’s a tremendous satisfaction in being allowed to care for this man who has done so much for so many and asked for so little in return. In fact, Dean has now embraced this new role so fully—no longer questioning what he deserves, or grudgingly accepting help, but full-on enjoyment of being doted on—that Cas has to be careful he doesn’t get lazy. There’s nothing Cas would rather do than settle Dean in front of a sunny window, snug in the recliner for Cas to wait on like a pampered cat, but he knows that sort of inactivity would do Dean’s joints and his heart no favors. So he watches Dean’s diet and insists on them taking slow walks after breakfast when his energy is highest.

Their neighborhood is a mix of young and old and everyone knows the two Mr. Winchesters who circle the block on days when the weather permits. The kids on bikes and scooters know to give them a wide berth, their parents warning them that the old men need the entire sidewalk, but they call out their hellos as they go by. They’re friendly with everyone except the woman who lives on the corner. Dean is convinced she’s a demon, but Cas suspects his distrust of her stems more from the fact that she seems immune to his charm. (Whatever the reason, he’s had to talk Dean out of chalking a devil’s trap inside her mailbox more than once.) They chat with their neighbors about the weather and the score of last night’s ballgame, and it’s so painfully normal that Cas sometimes feels his throat tighten up at the wonder of it all.

When Cas returns to their booth, Dean examines his plate. “They outta bacon?”

Cas cuts the waffle into manageable pieces and peels the wrapper from the muffin before sliding Dean’s plate over. “You know the deal.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean says. “You just like to look at my ass when I get up.”

They eat in congenial silence with Dean methodically working his way around his plate, eating everything heartily, even the fruit. Sitting next to him, Cas can easily scoop up any bites that miss his mouth, plucking them from Dean’s lap or his shirt.

“You two good?” The waitress asks when she comes to refill their coffees. “Need anything?”

Dean swallows the bite of muffin he’s working on, and rests his hand on top of Cas’s. “I’ve got everything I need right here. An actual angel, this one.”

She nods agreeably. “I can almost see his halo.”

Cas has learned that an old man can say just about anything and receive an indulgent smile in return. When Dean references angels or demons or the apocalypse, people assume he’s speaking in metaphor and they’ll nod pleasantly. Sometimes he’ll do it purely for effect, telling rambling tales from their past for the sheer enjoyment of being able to speak openly. He can’t always keep the details straight, but Cas is there to remind him. Some days, though, he seems to lose where he is in time, and there’s nothing Cas can do for that. Cas has taken to keeping a watchful eye on him in the late afternoons when he likes to doze on the couch with their one-eyed black cat curled up on his chest. Cas stays close in case he wakes from his nap agitated, calling for Cas, wanting to know where Sam is. Cas helps him to sit up as the cat springs down and scurries away.

“Don’t go,” he says again and again, and Cas takes him in his arms, assuring Dean that he’s here and reminding him that Sam is safe at his own home. He holds him until Dean shakily dismisses it all as just a bad dream.

The unfairness of it overwhelms Cas, and each time he’s left filled with wrath. These final years should be spent in well-earned peace, but instead Dean seems cursed with reliving his most frightening memories, traumatized anew by old, familiar fears. If Dean’s mind is destined to slip, why can’t it be toward blissful forgetting? What Dean has endured goes beyond what any human should; to ask him to bear it again is nothing short of cruel. But it’s a torture chamber created in his own mind, and all Cas can do is sit helplessly by, doing his best to ground Dean and bring him back to the present.

Cas looks at Dean’s empty plate. “Did you want to get some more?”

“Nah.” He’s full and happy and it’s time for their walk.

The waitress arrives to clear their plates. As he does every week, Dean asks if she needs to see his ID for the senior discount. As she does every week, she pretends to consider it before leaving the check. “You boys take your time.”

“Tip her well,” Dean says, leaning in to supervise Cas as he signs the bill.

“I always do,” Cas assures him.

When they’re ready to leave, Cas stands next to the banquette, waiting for Dean to retrieve his cane and slide himself to the edge. Using a combination of the cane and Cas’s extended arm, Dean hoists himself upright, groaning a little. Cas keeps a firm hold on him until he’s steady on his feet. Dean still dresses in layers, but these days it’s because he gets chilled easily. He favors heavy knit cardigans and as long as Cas gets the zipper started for him he can tug it up or down as needed. Cas checks him for crumbs then together they walk through the other tables crowded with families. They continue by the hostess station where a woman is wiping down menus. “See you next week,” she calls as they pass.

Cas steps forward to push open the door, and stands holding it. “Watch your step,” he says as he always does, pointing toward the raised metal threshold of the doorway.

Using his cane to steady himself, Dean shuffles his way over it, then stops to lay his hand on Cas’s cheek. His knuckles are gnarled, the skin of his palm is dry and warm, and Cas feels the same flare of awe go through him as he has since the moment he first found this glorious soul in the depths of hell.

“I am the luckiest man who has ever lived,” Dean says.

Cas kisses his palm, then takes his arm to help him on his way.

#deancas #destiel #my writing #growing old together #this came well before the finale #but it feels like a fix it fic nonetheless

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