𓏼💭 Asks : OPEN ﹒♡ (plz talk to me in my ask box,, im lonely)
₊ m.list will be added in the future ִ𓂃
100% Will do !
. fluff, smut, hurt/comfort, random dribbles, hc’s, random thoughts, moodboards, playlists, shifting scripts, x reader (mainly fem!reader or gn!reader). I’ll probably do anything that isn’t on my “100% won’t do” so feel free to just ask.
100% Won’t do !
. noncon, watersports, coprophilia, age play, cg!character x little!reader (no offense but I physically cannot write that stuff), incest, pedophilia, angst no comfort, anything involving mentions of SA. If I find any of this stuff in my inbox, the ask will be deleted and (if not anonymous) you will be blocked.
I am NOT responsible for ANY form of media that you consume on my blog, whether it's nsfw or just something you dislike. if you don't like my stuff,, get off my page ♡⸝⸝
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Older!Neighbor!Bucky x reader. How do yall feel about that?? Cuz I’m writing it. Chapter 1 of my new fic “Bubble gum” is being worked on right now!! (Yes multi chapters cuz I wanna experiment with writing more.)
I hope yall enjoy it when it comes out! :) also lmk if you wanna be tagged!!
uhhdhfhghdjrhfh I am in DESPERATE need of Dennis pup play..
Like you don't understand how badly I need this man to put a collar on me and choke me with it while he's ever so delicately fucking my brains out!!!
“come here honey, you said you were feeling needy yeah?”
comes dennis’s sweet voice, laced with sympathy as he hooks a finger around around the collar you wear. one he got you, he was excited too. saving his money enough to get it custom made with his initials on the little gold tag at the front. a proud “d.w” engraved into the metal.
he tugs you closer so you’re sat at his feet between his thighs, looking up at him with wide eyes. his smile is warm, a hand coming down to pet your head scratching at your scalp until you lean into his touch. he sighs in contentment, eyes raking over your bare figure.
“you missed me didn’t you baby, m’sorry..I was busy at work. but I know you were such a good girl waiting for me..yes you were.” you grin nodding.
“missed you so much denny, I always get lonely without you.”
the finger around your collar tugs you forward a little harsher. his face leaning down to be level with yours, blue eyes low and swimming with adoration. noses brushing as he holds you there.
“yeah? missed my puppy too, give me a kiss.” he says wistfully.
you happily oblige tilting up to meet his lips, slotting yours with his has you whimpering and him groaning. having been craving the feel of him on you all day and from the looks of it, he’s been craving you too. it starts off sweet admittedly, the two of you softly kissing and making up for lost time. showing the other that you truly did miss one another.
before long it’s heated, him pulling away to peck your lips. then diving back in to kiss you deeply, he repeats this a few times. just to feel you chase after his mouth raising up on your knees to get to him quicker. your hands fisting into his scrub clad thighs. but you stay on the floor, obedient as ever.
“oh baby you’re so cute.” he mumbles and the praise goes straight to your cunt.
his tongue swipes your bottom lip in question, asking for access. you open up immediately allowing him to lick into your mouth rather desperately. he spreads his spit all over your tongue and you greedily swallow it down.
it’s sloppy, drool seeping from the corner of your mouth and down your chin. and he pays no mind to this continuing to lap into your mouth as you lap into his. tongues intertwining, lips sucking and biting. it’s a messy kiss fueled by need.
a string of saliva connects your lips as he pulls back just enough to catch his breath. a self satisfied smile gracing his lips. when he sees your glazed over eyes, your bottom lip swollen and wet, spit steadily dripping down your chin.
“look at you..”
he whispers, wiping the wetness with his thumb before pushing it between your plush lips. watching with bated breath as you dutifully suck it into your mouth.
“my good girl makes such a mess when I kiss her."
his hands cradle your face and he looks you over.
“want a treat honey?”
“yes—yes please.” you mumble around his thumb, the same one that presses down on your tongue making your jaw fall open. he seems distracted for a moment looking at the way you swallow around nothing as his thumb slides back deeper into your throat.
chest heaving when you gag softly, he can feel the saliva pool in your mouth. and he has half a thought to kiss you again, take it onto his own tongue and swallow it down. but he doesn’t simply because he needs to reward you first.
looking over you’re face he admires just how beautiful you look like this. gazing up at him like he’s the sun in your sky.
“such a pretty puppy..okay baby.” he releases you, dropping your collar and taking his thumb away— which you fight the urge to whine at. placing the saliva covered finger into his mouth absentmindedly. before patting his thigh with one hand, flashing that every so gorgeous gapped smile of his.
Overall Synopsis: A car accident leaves you with missing puzzle pieces to assemble—the stumble to blindly pick them out turns into the realization you have not only your career, places, and people to relearn, but also a boyfriend. Where will said puzzle pieces lead you to in the end? And to who, if anyone?
Overall Tropes: amnesia, second chance, strangers to friends, (more than) friends to lovers, idiots in love, slow burn (if you squint), forced proximity, workplace romance.
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... ᭝ ᨳଓ ՟ SPOILED ROTTEN﹕pc !grant reilly ⅋fem reader ᵋ 💭 grant isn’t acting himself after seeing u w ur bf.. ᵌ
suggestive filth. ❥ age gappie. ’s a longer one, i got carried away in these two.. sweet nicknames. slight perverted !grant. he’s unashamedly down bad for u. ❥ whiny !grant. ❥ doesn’t care he’s older.. he likes it. nd so do you ૮ ․ ․ ྀིა
grant tossed the spatula onto the marble island, wiping his hands on his waist apron, sporting a narrow brow and stern cheekbones. your own face morphed into a frown upon taking him in. “well i don’t know if you’ve seen beauty and the beast.. but those things have feelings,” you joked, setting your shopping bags down on the counter.
grant scoffed under his breath, “course i have.. movie’s older than you.” he eyed the bags, pushing down his overwhelming want for you to open each one and hold up what you got from the boutiques. and that’s exactly what you went to do after responding, “oh, i thought it recently came out..? well, do you wanna see what i gott,” you dragged the letter out, all giddy, thinking the answer would be yes.
because it always is. this was your guys’ thing. you and the personal chef your dad hired became close quickly after only a couple of weeks. funnily enough, you bonded over how different you are. opposite interests. lack of knowledge on what the other knew everything about. he started to become your favorite person. and you had no clue of the pedestal grant had you on. even just as his boss’ daughter, you had so much power over him.
and he sometimes showed it when you two interacted. he’d do anything for you. cook anything at any time, no matter how silly of a request. watched on intently as you showed him your recent purchases. focused diligently when you pattered up to him, holding up two tops, asking which you should wear out. whatever you want, grant wants to be the one to give it.
but you’d never give him what he truly wants deep down. the role he’d be honored to take over that currently belonged to a pompous know it all college boy. you two were dating when grant was hired, but he doesn’t think you’ve been together too long. not long enough to defuse you from being swayed..
his head caught up with your last words, shaking himself from his thoughts and your youthful response, “not the live action, pie.. i’m a little busy with this meal for your father’s meeting, where you going to show me those? because i don’t have the time.”
you didn’t recognize the tone. the straightforwardness. the pie instead of your usual sweetie pie pet name. your hands drooped from the handles of the first bag, tilting your head at him, “really? you’re never usually too busy for me..”
grant shook his head, turning to check on the boiling sauce, fiddling at it with a flimsy spatula. “people get really busy sometimes.. just like you were this morning. all in that guys’ face, couldn’t hear me ask what you wanted for breakfast..” grant let himself grumble out, placing the lid back onto the pan.
your lips twisted to the side on a pout, furrowing your brows to remember what he was referring to. “oh..! him? i wasn’t.. that close to him, we were just..”
grant stopped you short, needing to get his thoughts out before he lost the composure to, “close enough you couldn’t pay attention to the guy just trying to feed you. did he at least get you something to eat when you two left? or did he, but made you pay for the meal just like he let you buy those clothes on your own?”
your pout deepened, getting close to the island to rest your folded arms onto it, leaning in as grant turned back to you after checking on a few other pots and pans, crossing his own arms.
“did you pee in your own cereal this morning? i have the money, he doesn’t have to pay.. why’re you asking these questions? did my dad annoy you or something, because you don’t really have to take it out on me, i can just go to my room and leave you alone..”
“it doesn’t matter if you have it. ’s about being a gentleman,” grant scolded, scratching at the curls at the nape of his neck, sniffing.
you approached the question hesitantly, “..are you.. talking bad about him right now? grant, this isn’t like you..”
“you were my sweet girl first,” he dropped his arms to his sides, letting himself knuckle grip the counter behind him, pushing his body out a bit.
you stilled, eyes turning sad. heart turning sad. “i still am.. nothing changed? was it.. the breakfast thing? i’m sorry i didn’t answer you, i didn’t know..”
“you usually sit with me while you’re eating your breakfast and tell me your plans for the day. i had no clue what you were out there doing, i damn near almost asked your dad but remembered that’s considered inappropriate.”
you slid around the island, coming to stand in front of him. he could barely hold eye contact. looked a little.. flustered. nervous. you’d never see him like this before.. you rested a hand on his flexed bicep, wide eyes staring up at him, “i’m sorry, grant. i honestly would’ve thought you find that all annoying.. chatting your ear off while you’re trying to work,” you let out a soft giggle.
grant shook his head once, eyes focused on your manicured hand that rested so small on his bigger arm, “never. i like hearing all about it. wanna be that person you go to.. just wanna take care of you. be the man that does that for you.”
you let your other hand rise to his opposite arm, gently gripping at the muscles, tiny smile dotting your face, “really? you are that man for me, grant.. you always cook me yummy meals..”
he was shaking his head before you finished, “not just like that. i’ll cook whatever you want, but i’d love more than that.. if you.. sat on my lap while you relayed your plans to me. let me fiddle with the little bow straps on your mini skirt while you talk.. and i promise i’d wash my hands before, i don’t wanna dirty your pretty clothes..”
your breath hitched as you ran your hands further up his arms, resting them on his neck. “yeah? you like my skirts?” you asked softly so as to not startle him. this grown man. who seemed so nervous to tell you his feelings. you. the college girl with the loaded dad who doesn’t have time to cook for himself. too busy making the money you spend everyday.
“mhm.. like ’em on you. make you look so sweet, sugar. ever since your old man hired me, i couldn’t stop thinking about his precious little girl. with the cutest personality ’nd motor mouth telling me about her favorite things..”
you gasped with no sound, nudging him on the arm, “you said you liked that..!”
grant chuckled, nodding, “i do, i do.. i like you. am i.. is this too much..? i jus.. you bring out this caretaker side of me. suppose ’s why i got into personal cheffing. wanna take care of someone.. and then you came along, sweet one. gave this old man the urge to serve a pretty young thing..”
your raised eyebrow asked the nonverbal question. grant slowly shook his head, “’m not talking about the food. i wanna help you into your little shirts.. gives me an excuse to touch you.. learn your pretty parts. which ones are achy, which ones you need me to soothe.. i think i’m desperate for it.”
your tummy fluttered at his provocative words. you truly didn’t notice..
your fingers found their way to the spot of hair grant was scratching at earlier, running your fingers through it. “that’s so sweet.. sorry, is it okay i’m touching you?”
“yes,” his response was breathy like he was holding his breath, waiting for permission to say something about it.
he rested his hands on your hips, tugging you softly into him, roaming his fingers to the little straps of your skirt. his face scrunched into a look of frustration, “that.. that boyfriend of yours.. i don’t get it. ’m older. i know more. i cook for you, listen to you, not him. i have more experience. does he touch you like this?” grant leaned down to your mouth, his little needy puffs of breath touching your lips, “you have to say something before i keep going, sweetie pie. i can’t be professional grant right now. not with you.”
you nodded softly, pouting up at him. he was mush in your hands. willingly. and you weren’t expecting it. sure, you found the older man attractive. had thoughts.. but you didn’t expect this. didn’t expect to like hearing him talk about you this much..
“keep going,” you encouraged on a whisper, staring into his puppy eyes. gosh, he was gone for you..
his eyes turned stern, eyebrows flexing, body tensing with want. “i like that i’m a father figure to you. that i’m old enough to actually be.. but dads can’t think the way i do.. i dream about fucking you over the island. going slow, gentle with you. because my sweet girl deserves nothing but gentle. i think about us sneaking into your room and letting you do whatever you want with me.. show me what you need. getting to my knees and seeing if you taste just as sweet as i imagine. making you leave the skirt on.. only the skirt while you ride me. take from me all you want. i was yours before i shook your dad’s hand to seal the deal.”
your fingers stilled, your head all buzzy. you didn’t know grant was so.. dirty mouthed. this clean, pristine chef.. getting all dirty with you. you wanted.. you wanted that. badly. you didn’t know how much you’ve been craving that. that grant was right here..
you teetered on your feet, thighs rubbing, “grant, what if one of my.. parts are achy right now? what do i do?” you panicked. your boyfriend never made you feel like this. grant was right. all you needed was your father figure..
his eyes softened, one hand sliding to the front of your skirt, only skidding along the outskirts. “is it here? you have to tell me, peach.”
you nodded on a stutter, eyes suddenly scared and welling, “my dad’ll be back soon with his business men.. we can’t..”
“sweetheart, i’d fuck this ache out of you in front of your dad right before he fired me if it was the only chance i had with you.. do you wanna go up to your room for a second while i finish up here? i’ll be right there after i serve everything ’nd clean up.. can you do that for me?”
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Worst week of my life. Quinn released “Yes, chef”. I’m getting fraudulent charges on my card so I can’t buy the annual subscription. I’m ovulating. PLEASE I NEED THIS. Not to mention, I’m actually taking culinary classes irl so I was ecstatic when I heard Shawn was voicing a HEAD CHEF. I’m very into that.
Ok… Dennis Whitaker x Masochist!reader who literally begs Dennis to just pull their hair once, promising it won’t hurt them. Though, Dennis can’t help but feel bad. He doesn’t wanna do anything to harm you really badly, but fine.. he can get past some hair pulling. To be honest.. he finds himself enjoying it a LOT more than he expected. Was that bad..? No, not really. I mean, you liked it too, so that must mean it’s ok! He just loves that sweet look on your face when he pulls your head back by your hair to face him as you ride his cock. Who wouldn’t enjoy such a beautiful sight? Ok, maybe this is Sadist!Dennis x reader.. or both. Whichever you like 👀👀👀
Summary: Dennis Whitaker x witchy!reader who always sees him taking care of everyone around him but himself, so you decide to take actions into your own hands.
Warnings: None! Unless you're scared of witches..
Authors notes: This is all based on my own spiritual practices as a witch, and also how I take mental health days! Uhhh please enjoy and feel free to give me feedback!!!
Word count: 1.2k
You start off by calling Robby from his phone before Dennis wakes up, your voice quiet as you step into the hallway so you don’t disturb him. You explain to him that Dennis won’t be able to come into work because he’s sick and can’t come to the phone. Robby, who obviously cares very much for Whitaker, lets him take the day off. Your plan has finally set in, but Dennis doesn’t quite realize it yet.
Not until he wakes up to a warm, steamy mug of chamomile tea and his favorite breakfast meal: Smashed avocado on sourdough toast, topped with a perfectly sunny-side-up egg, the yolk still golden and soft.
The sun begins to rise, bleeding gently through the curtains and casting a warm glow across the room, slowly waking Dennis up. As he sits up in bed, the smell of freshly cooked food drifts toward him. There was a tray of food set neatly beside him on the bed, practically calling his name. “Baby.. what’s this?” He asked, voice still groggy from just waking up, and quite sleepy-eyed
“G’morning and surprise! I made you breakfast!”. You smile, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his forehead before placing his phone down on the nightstand. “And also, you aren’t gonna be going to work today.” “I’m– I'm what..?” He stared at your face as if you had grown a third eye. No work today? Were you crazy?? It was a Friday, of course he had work! “Sweetheart, what are you talking about? Why wouldn’t I have work today?”
“Well..” you shift a little closer, your voice softening, “I want you to stay home. Take a mental health day with me! Please..” you explained. It was evident how tired Dennis was after work. Most nights he barely makes it to the couch before passing out, still in his work clothes. Something needed to be done about that.
You sit beside him and wrap your arms loosely around his neck, your fingers gently combing through his messy dirty blonde hair. “Don’t worry, I already notified Robby and told him that you aren’t coming in.” “Oh really..?” He exhales, the tension in his shoulders releasing as you pet his hair. “ Well, I dunno if I can turn down a day to relax with my girlfriend.”
You grin. “Well, go and enjoy your breakfast while I go and burn some palo santo and grab my tarot cards.”You press another quick kiss to his lips before slipping out of the room, leaving behind the breakfast dish and the faint herbal scent of his tea. Dennis looks down at the tray and smiles to himself. He’s so grateful to have a caring girlfriend who can tell if he's tired simply by looking at him. He really needed this today.
After finishing his breakfast, he stretches and makes his way out of the bedroom, only to be met with the warm smell of burning wood and a lingering scent of citrus. As he walks over to the living room, he finds you sitting cross-legged on the floor. The palo santo rests on a small plate beside you, thin curls of smoke drifting upward, and your tarot cards spread neatly in front of you. “Come sit down with me and let me give you a reading!” You say, glancing up at him. “Alright, let me grab a cushion."
“Okay,” you start, shuffling the cards with practiced ease, “I’m gonna do a healing tarot spread for you. I’ll explain everything, so just sit there and look pretty.” He could see how focused you were, the way your fingers moved so smoothly through the deck. After a few moments, two cards slip out and land face-up.
“Aha, would you look at that.” You exclaimed, picking up the cards and placing them gently in front of him.. “First question: what needs healing right now. You got the king of pentacles.” “Is that good? I mean– I hope it is.” He questioned, leaning in slightly. “Of course.” you reassure him. I think it means your relationship with yourself needs healing.” He frowns a little, eyes staring at the card. He spoke again “ok.. Yeah, but what does that mean?”
“It means you’ve gotta stop being too hard on yourself," you say, voice gentle but firm. “And start taking care of yourself the way you take care of everyone else.”“…Yeah,” he murmurs after a moment. “Do I really do that that much?” You shrug lightly, already shuffling again. “I think you do. You just don’t notice it.” Another card slips out.
“Okay—next question: how can you support your healing journey. And you got the king of swords.” You place it beside the first. “This one’s about being honest with yourself. Setting boundaries when you need them—and actually sticking to them.”
“Mhm…” He nods slowly. “I get that.” You smile, grabbing the cards and putting them back into the deck. “That’s all. Hopefully it helped clear your head a little.”
“Thanks sweetheart.” He said, voice soft. “This is all… really nice. I appreciate it.” “I’m glad,” you beam. “Sooo… how about a bath?” You stand up, picking up the palo santo and setting it on the coffee table. “Jumping straight into seeing me naked, huh?” he teases, raising a brow. “Oh, so you don't want a shoulder massage from your girlfriend while you take a bubble bath? I see how it is.”
“No—baby, I didn’t mean it like that,” he laughs, already getting up. “I need that so badly…” Honestly, a bath actually sounded really nice right now. All he wanted was to relax and let all his worries wash away in the water. Of course he accepted your offer, eagerly getting up and following you to the bathroom. The air is already filled with the calming scent of lavender and Trinity’s hair products. “Ill get the bath started for you, so start getting undressed.” you say. “yes ma’am.” He leans in for a quick kiss before stepping back to pull off his clothes.
Soon, he’s wrapped in just a towel around his waist, watching as you move around the tub. “Okay, I’ve got some moon water, bath salts, and bubble foam,” you explain, carefully pouring everything in. “And I’m gonna put some salt in the shape of runes along the edge.” You sprinkle everything in, the water slowly filling with soft foam, before tracing small rune-like shapes along the tub’s edge with careful fingers.
Dennis steps in, lowering himself into the water with a quiet sigh, his shoulders instantly dropping as the warmth surrounds him. “This is nice… very nice,” he murmurs, eyes fluttering shut. It was very relaxing, and made him feel at peace. Like he could truly rest after a long week of work. “That's good,” you smile. “Now turn around so I can give you a massage, ok?”
“Mhm.. yeah.” Your hands settle on his shoulders, thumbs pressing gently into the tension there, working slowly and carefully over each knot. The warmth of the water, the soft lavender scent, and your touch—it all blends together until his mind finally goes quiet. Leaning back into you slightly, he mumbles, “Can I maybe take another day off tomorrow?”
You hum, pretending to think. “Hmm… you’ll have to talk to Robby about that.” He lets out a small laugh, already sinking deeper into the moment. Yeah… he’s definitely looking forward to his next mental health day with you.
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Dennis Whitaker x Reader
♯ Boys Will Be Bugs - Cavetown
Synopsis: Dennis, your sweet coworker Dennis, hears you have a little bit of a mental breakdown inside the storage closet. Not wanting to see your pretty face so sad, he comes in to give you a shoulder to cry on.
Genre: hurt/comfort.
Tags: after s2. Totally not self indulgent cause I totally didn't have a breakdown like a minute ago. He is down bad. Might be ooc I'm ngl pls tell me if he's ooc. Meltdowns.
Wc: 1.9k
You bit on your lip so hard it could bleed.
You hoped that it could bleed, that would prove that you were still a person.
You really don't know what to do anymore. You hate feeling like this. You hate the very thin line between panic attack and mental breakdown. You don't like how it trembled against your chest and hammered away at your ribcage. You could easily mistake it for a cardiac arrest with how constricted your breath felt. How tight your chest seemed to be closing in on your bones.
Every breath you took didn't feel like enough.
The bathroom was always a place you'd go to whenever you needed a quick cry. That's where everyone went to. A place with no cameras to judge you when you're going through it. You've watched as multiple of your coworkers
You just needed to calm the fuck down. But you had no idea how to calm the fuck down so you just go insane.
It wasn't even work related for god's sake. It wasn't because of the patient who flatlined just mere minutes ago. It wasn't the humiliation by the many doctors who saw you as lesser than. It was all just because of your feelings.
Your heart that was a little bit too big for your body.
The very heart that you've been trying to get rid of for so long. Training yourself to not let it show. Since if you were going to be in this profession, you'd have to suck it up. Nobody likes a crybaby for a doctor.
And of course. Like every other thing, it came back to bite you in the ass.
Your lower lip was already trembling when you opened the door to the bathroom. Cursing yourself internally when you noticed how all the stalls were occupied. You took a deep breath. Absolutely refusing to let yourself break down where people could see you.
You stood around like a lost duck, tapping your foot on the blood smeared ground. Eyes glossing over and darting in between the people in front of you. Drifting in between rooms to see which patient you could sink your teeth into and distract yourself.
"L/n." You weren't sure who that voice came from, but you turned your head immediately, like you were in some sort of trance.
"Think you could get me three rolls of gauze? Seven by seven centimetres please."
You nodded, not even looking up at them in the eye to see who needed it, spinning on your heel and making your way to the storage closet. Eyes glued to the floor, before you saw a puddle of blood, which made your gaze shift to the walls. The sterile, white, concrete walls that seemed to blur with each step that you took.
"L/n." Now that was a voice you recognised. "You okay there doll?"
You spared Dana a glance, mustering up a quick smile. "Mhm." You nodded. Feeling yourself pick up your pace and open the door to storage in front of you. 'Are you okay' is the question that always led you to tears. Because her tone told you that she knew that you weren't okay. And that at any moment, someone would catch you when you're down.
The blonde woman frowned. Lines on the corner of her lips deepening even further down. "Hey kid." She tugged on Whitaker's sleeve, stopping him in place, sandwich in hand. "You think L/n's doing okay?"
His head snapped up to find you, giddy at the mention of your name. Very pathetic if you were to ask him; how eager he was to find you. "Uh--" pausing to chew on his sandwich filled mouth. "They.. don't really look like it, to be honest." He admits.
It's not like Dennis doesn't care that you're very obviously exhibiting some burnout behaviours that everyone and their mum has went through before. It wasn't like he was uncomfortable with emotions either. He honestly had no idea why he hasn't pulled you into a corner and gave you the mandatory ten minute therapy session that's been given to nearly everyone in there.
It's just that he's not sure how to approach you. He's very good at emotions, he's just worried if what he says to you would inevitably worsen the (barely there) relationship. What if he gives you too much attentions when you wanted to be left alone and fuck everything up. Or what if he didn't give you enough emotion that he makes you uncomfortable for showing any at all.
That just goes about every interaction that he has with you. He overthinks it way too much, and then it either makes you stand in awkward silence or walk away from how uncomfortable you were. He did try catching your attention by doing some cool medical shit, which of course didn't do anything because you could do much better than him. By god, you were dreamy.
"Alright." Dana nodded, voice gruff from all those years of smoking. And yet it came out soft. "You keep an eye on them, yeah?"
"Okay." Dennis replied softly, almost whispering against himself. It's not like he wasn't already keeping an eye on you. "Anyway, we need a twenty-nine gauge with four millimetres."
He nodded, making his own way to the storage closet. His mind found itself drifting around the hospital. Searching for any signs of you now that Dana pointed you out. He looked at the many crowds of people, wondering if you were there.
He lingered, head turned to the side. Just looking for you.
It was only when he opened the door that he found out where you were.
You hand was covering your eyes, gauze long forgotten on the shelf in front of you. Your other hand was over your mouth, stifling any sounds that were threatening to escape your throat. Your eyes widened at the sound of the door hinges creaking open. Immediately turning your back it gave you whiplash. Pretending to be looking for something.
Dennis felt his voice die down in his throat. Not knowing what to do, he stood there. Hand still on the half opened door.
You wiped your eyes with the palm of your hand, clearing your throat. "Need anything?" Said as if you couldn't feel the tremble and panic.
He stumbled between his words. Stepping further inside the already cramped space and closing the door gently behind him. "Uhm." He was unsure on what to say. "I need.. a twenty-nine gauge with four millimetres.."
You nodded. "yeah, okay, yeah I'll get it for you." Almost exasperated. Letting out a shaky breath.
He couldn't see your face. But it didn't take a detective to know that you were trying your best to keep it together. And failing.
Despite it being an incredibly small space, he's trying his best to keep some distance. Mostly because he was too scared to approach you.
"Do you need a moment to take a breather..?"
You were rummaging through the boxes. You knew where everything was, you just wanted to buy yourself some time to make the red on your face go down. "No. There are people dying here, I think I can wait." The words flew out almost on instinct.
He nodded. Sad eyes opening and shutting slowly. "It's uh, hectic today, huh?" His put his hands inside his pockets, then took it out. Then he shifted in from one foot to another. He had no idea what to do or what to say.
"Yep," that wasn't the reason why you were in tears. But it definitely wasn't helping.
"I.. can make you some coffee.." trying to sound a lot lighter than what he knew he situation to be. He's sure that coffee won't fix everything in a jiffy.
You paused, dropping your head down in exhaustion. "It's okay. I can deal with it... you probably have a lot of patients anyway."
He shook his head. Now mustering up the courage to stand closer. "No, it's alright." He's gentle. "I'm sure they'll understand."
You sighed. Nearly slamming the syringe hard on the shelf. "No." You said, stern. "I'll be fine." You shut your eyes. Hoping not to burst into tears with how adamant he was to do something for you.
Dennis stood a lot closer now. His arms hanging limply beside his torso. His eyebrows furrowed. In frustration, or in annoyance. Annoyed that he had no idea what to do. Or that you were refusing to acknowledge how much things were affecting you.
Your head was set in an angle that made him unable to see your face. He placed a hand on your own. Stopping it from shaking so much-- you didn't even realise how much it was shaking.
You wanted to look at him. You wanted to see how he looked now that he's seeing you in your most vulnerable. But it was as if you were frozen in place. Eyes glistening over, finding the closest item there and locking in on it.
"Talk to me."
Your breath hitched. And your lower lip was quivering once again. You shut your eyes, yelling internally to yourself for the tears not to flow.
You shook your head. "I don't know what's going on." It came out as a whisper.
You looked at him only briefly. His eyes big and desperate. He only just wants to be there for you.
"I don't know how to stop feeling like this." Now looking at him properly. "And I know I shouldn't, there are so many people here that need more help than I do--" You felt his hand on your cheek before you could finish.
"Hey," he called out. "Don't think like that. Don't think for a second that you're any less than the people here."
"I-"
"You're a lot more than people think, more than you let yourself on. Got it?"
Your eyes were impossibly wide. Your breath hitched, with no idea where the sudden change in composure came from.
You nodded. His hands still on your face.
"Yeah?" Full of hope. Slightly better about himself now that he made you feel even a little bit better.
It was only when your eyes darted to the side, where his hand was, did he realise how weird he seemed right now. "Sorry!"
Like a switch, he pulled back. Maybe a bit too fast. In a complete panic. "Sorry, I-- sorry I don't know what I was thinking-- Sorry!"
The sudden shift made your lips twitch up in a smile. Forgetting what you were spiralling about just minutes ago.
"Uhm--! I should uh.. I should go, I should make-- get you that coffee." He spun and tripped around the closet. Closing his own eyes and cursing himself mentally by how much he fucked up. Oh my god, was he stupid or what.
He clutched the handle between his hands.
"Hey." You called out.
He froze, shoulders straining against himself. He slowly turned.
He was met with you holding the syringe that he had long forgotten. "Twenty-nine gauge. Four millimetres."
He broke out a shaky smile. "Oh! Thanks."
"I think we both need some coffee." You followed him out. Some sort of weight getting lifted off of your chest.
And you truly do. Because while you walk away. The gauze sat idly on the shelf behind you.
