#when my therapist asks me about my self care i’ll show her this | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nirvanaxrhodes · 11 months ago

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"Said, I'd get sick of you, I kinda always wanted to" Let me die this little death

whoa! nirvana rhodes just stole my cab! not cool, but maybe they needed it more. they have lived in the city for three years, working as a/an occult researcher/therapist. that can’t be easy, especially at only 31 years old. some people say they can be a little bit intangible and sarcastic, but I know them to be adroit and dauntless. whatever. I guess I’ll catch the next cab. hope they like the ride back to the bronx !

►GENERAL INFORMATION

FULL NAME: Nirvana Christine Rhodes NICKNAME(S): Vana, Ana, Rhodes LABEL: The Mystic AGE: 31 DATE OF BIRTH: October 30, 1992 ZODIAC: Scorpio Sun, Capricorn Rising, Leo Moon GENDER & PRONOUNS: Female; She/Her HERITAGE: English, Maltese SPOKEN LANGUAGE(S): English OCCUPATION: Occult Researcher/Therapist SEXUALITY & ROMANCE: Bisexual; Biromantic

► APPEARANCE

FACE CLAIM: Samara Weaving HEIGHT: 5'5" WEIGHT: 114 lbs. DOMINANT HAND: Right HAIR COLOR: Blonde (dyed from dark brown) EYE COLOR: Blue SCARS: None notable. TATTOOS: Black cat (right wrist), 'made of stardust' written in script (back of neck)

►PERSONALITY

POSITIVE TRAITS: Adroit, Dauntless, Beguiling, Open-Minded, Ambitious, Prophetic. NEGATIVE TRAITS: Sarcastic, Intangible, Arrogant, Sycophantic, Self-Sabotaging. LIKES: Stargazing, burning candles/incense, thunder storms, music on vinyl, horror movie marathons, deep conversations with strangers, solving a problem before everyone else, eureka moments, curling up with a book, conducting tarot card readings, making intention jars/journaling, baking. DISLIKES: Dogeared book pages, when people wave you off in the middle of passion-dumping, when people ask for advice but don't take it then complain.

►MENTALITY

PHOBIAS: None. DISORDERS: Not diagnosed. ALLERGIES: Seasonal (Pollen), Mold

►BACKGROUND

HOMETOWN: Sydney, AUS CURRENT RESIDENCE: Bronx, NYC, NY EDUCATION LEVEL: MA in Clinical Mental Health Counseling; is in a PhD program with an independent specialization/research in Parapsychology at NYU FAMILIAL CONNECTIONS: - Shayna Rhodes - 55, Mother, Not In Contact - Alexander Rhodes - 51, Father, Not In Contact

►FAVORITES

FOOD: Lavender shortbread cookies DRINK: English Breakfast Tea MOVIE: Scott Pilgrim vs. The World, Practical Magic, Scream TV SHOW: Bridgerton, Criminal Minds, Rick & Morty BAND/ARTIST: The Killers, Lana Del Rey, Nirvana, Fleetwood Mac SONG: Fall Out of Love - Salem

► EXTRA INFORMATION

JUNG TYPE: INTP ENNEAGRAM: The Troubleshooter (5w6) TEMPERAMENT: Melancholic MORAL ALIGNMENT: Chaotic Neutral SIN: Ego VIRTUE: Wisdom ELEMENT: Air CHARACTER PLAYLIST

Well, there's a black hole inside of me, apathetic vacancy Even just a touch is war

► BIOGRAPHY

TW; Religion mention

Nirvana was born with a gift to appreciate the unusual. At least, that's how her aunt would explain her all-black attire and obscurely-colored hair phase at family events. She was always a square peg in a round hole. This was something she grew used to and actually favored her individuality. There was a part of her that pitied the other girls who attempted to fit in when she grew up being shamelessly herself. Though she was labeled as an outcast, she still had something about her that drew people in. She had a great group of friends, and her fair share of experimental relationships. In short: she didn't miss anything, but she wouldn't have cared if she did. Her aunt was the one who taught her about spirituality after Nirvana had a paranormal experience at the age of 5. Whilst being in a Catholic household, Nirvana and her aunt would often sneak in order to practice their own eclectic belief. Magic, tarot cards, seances, you name it - Nirvana has dabbled in it. What no one was expecting was for her to make a career move out of it. It started in high school, she helped assist her teacher in their paranormal investigation group. It was through this teacher that she learned about anomalies and the role of the paranormal in anthropology. Her job as an investigator was just the groundwork for her BA in Anthropology with a specialization in Women and Minority Studies where she learned more about the occult across various religions and cultures as well as witchcraft and the impact and power women have within interaction, at the University of Exeter. She then went on to gain a MA in Clinical Mental Health Counseling from Stockon University in NJ. Currently, Nirvana is working on her PhD at NYU with an individualized specialization/research concentration in Parapsychology. At this point in her career, she can be seen as an expert in the occult. She actually works to help victims/survivors of cults, is still a researcher for a paranormal investigation team, and is also hosts a podcast about horror movies, the paranormal and the occult.

► PERSONALITY (DEEP DIVE)

Nirvana is one of those people who can attract and attract and attract, but still feel alone underneath the surface. She loves knowledge and the pursuit of knowledge; If she could be a student her whole life, she would. This combination of coming across as approachable but also seeming highly intelligent, is very intimidating to most. Though, if one were to sit and speak with Nirvana, they would see she has a heart big enough to match her mind and is just an obscure nerd in her own right. She can be sarcastic and condescending if someone asks a question she deems as 'stupid'. She's known to bully as her type of flirting. She's actually not online, and prefers it that way. She's clever and witty and goes on passion-dump sprees pretty often about a new book she's reading, or about her research or podcast. She loves people who have a sense of humor. Nirvana is more introverted than extroverted and also has a busy schedule, so it may be hard to reach her at times and she's well aware of this. If she values someone, she makes sure she sets time aside for them. She's really a big mushy nerd guys, but she has so many phases and you never know what you're gonna get when you meet her. She's moon-coded, okay?

#boroughs.intro #tw religion

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unofficial-sean · 2 years ago

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Life kinda, like, passes you by so quickly. Once moment a college student is popping your cherry--you can’t really feel your body, it’ll ass tingly and light headed--and now you’re approaching your mid-twenties and the gravity of everything sets in; the finite nature of life, the warped film of time and memories, and latent nature of firsts.

When I was 17, I dreamed of where I’d be now, but where I am is so far off the mark. I can’t even bottom, i don’t have a place of my own, my career is fragmented, and worse of all, I’m so alone in this struggle.Not only did I fail to achieve my goals, I’ve become a different person; alien to who I was when all I could thin about was getting railed and moving out of my small hometown.

Not that those were good admirations, but I’ve just completely lost sight of who I wanted to be. I’m so lost and there’s no guidance. As loathe as I was to accepting it, I had so many resources in high school. There were people there willing to help if i just had the wisdom to accept it. But now here I am.

in three months, I’ll be 24. Another year passed and I have still not achieved my goals. They’re not even possible, now. And that should be fine, but part of me still wants that. Part of me still wants to get railed and have people over and live a more risky life. But all I can do now is top at best. Maybe I work some job. Gets me enough to survive and pay for my ROV research on the weekends. That’s all I have left.

I recognized that working for the Army was soul sucking,and so I’ve got multiple interviews in the private sectors for electronics work. But I jsut know it won’t give me purpose.

Everyone says “be yourself and you’ll find your people.’ But when I do that, I’m always alone. If I go out to the ocean with my ROV, who will saunter on up and take interest? How to I meet my people when all I do is solitary? I fantasize that someone asks what I’m doing, and I explain that I’m observing sharks, and they get interested, and I show them how to use the ROV controller, and l et them explore and focus on the marine life that catches their eye, and we form a friendship. But in reality, everyone on the shore is focused on their own things.

There is no guide anymore. There are no resources. I can’t figure out which side of me people like, and I can’t even get brief sexual gratification anymore.It seems whoever I am, personally, professionally, romantically, and sexually, is so undesirable. Even though I’m being myself. I fell so stuck.

I can’t stop crying. The life i wanted was robbed from me,and the best i can do with my circumstance is not good enough. I don’t have the personality of a dominant top. I’m a subby bottom that can’t bottom. I like myself shaved and lithe but toned. And that’ fine for a bottom, but not for a top. I can’t fit any space. I’m just this malformed creature,

N one wants to talk with me. N one matches my passion. I don't’ even care if it’s unrelated to my interests. I can spill about all there is to know about sharks, and I’ll never meet someone with that same spark for anything. Am I overwhelming? Am I dry? None of this shit gets spilled when I talk to people; it should come up when I talk to my therapist, but my therapist is only available for one hour every two weeks. She’s never there when I need her most.

It’s not your responsibility to comfort me. My therapist would likely just tell me to focus on myself or whatever. I’ve been doing that. All the advice there is to give, I’ve heard.

I don’t think I’m inadequate. Inherently, I like myself. If I could clone myself, we’d get alone. But I really struggle to understand why other people don’t seems to like me. Whether it’s at a glace, after an interaction, or after months of friendship. I don’t understand what I’m doing wrong. I never get an answer.,. I get ghosted. I get left to pick up the pieces and form my own conclusions. All that’s ever done is force me to be harsh to myself; to self criticize; to pick myself apart before I can put myself back together.

I’m not perfect. I struggle to understand socialization. I can’t tell wish face people want to see. I’m too afraid to make compliments or advances because I can’t tell if what I’m saying is charming or harassment. When I keep to myself, no one gets in. When I push too far, I’m reprimanded. I long for a space where the words I say are not taken with such dire nature.

I want to be soft. I wanted to be feminine and womanly. And maybe i still can. But how many people really, truly want a feminine person to top them? How many people want to truly put up with infodumping and the sensitivities of an autistic person? What can I even do to form connections when my messages are never read?

There is no guide. No help. I could have died today, and I’d have died without ever knowing a woman’s touch. Without ever feeling that delicacy. I’ve had men, sure, but that I’ve never felt; not intimately. I could have left this world without ever having touched a shark. Or left being a research paper. The only person who’d really miss me is my dad, And he doesn’t really know who I am.

I make my intent known and I wait. but how much waiting must i do before I recognize the reality and let it go? I am who I am. And I’m going to sleep.

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bitterarcs · 7 months ago

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The voice appeared to conjure from thin air. Neighboring chatter vibrating too-thin office walls coupled with the mechanical hum of active operating systems and the air conditioning system working on overdrive could have masked approaching footsteps . . especially if one took the care to play the dramatic entrance card. Truly, it was nothing out of the ordinary for both of them — a relationship of lukewarm and cold. In Reno's perspective, it all stemmed from Jae's side of things; Reno would not consider his indifference as either lukewarm or frigid.

Oh, great, was he being compared to those ancient crime lords again? Too raptured by surprise to feel irritated, his lips curled with amusement. What did Verdot's little welp know anything about Reno? If people compared the red head's ego to that of the size of ShinRa headquarters, then surely Jae's was comparable to the size of Midgar; nothing quite like lecturing about how someone's else life actually was which made them a complete tool.

Jenova's tits! — did the kid stay up all night creating this long winded and unnecessary call out? Half way through, Reno really settled into his seat with thighs splayed wide and mouth hanging slightly agape. Then it continued, and it continued. He waited several breaths at the end to actually make sure the rant was done and gone with. Reno cocked his head to the side and scratched his cheek, not quite sure whether to be creeped out, annoyed, or just fucking confused. He chose the latter.

( ❛ . . and to think the worst prank I pulled on ya' was putting fake roaches on your lunch when ya' weren't looking. I thought about using jizz, but, y'know, I was being nice. ❜ )

Reno stomped feet clad in dress shoes down against the tile ground and jerked up from his seat with a swiftness that caused the chair behind him to slide backwards several centimeters.

( ❛ Didn't know you dreamed that strongly to become a little girl, buuut you're gonna have to be someone else's. Like hell I'm getting chained down with a wife and a god damn kid. I'd castrate my own damn self before creating a little shit head. I'm probably the last person to recommend a therapist . . but consider it; sounds like it could help, bud. ❜ )

"You seem to have a beef with me. Don’t really know why or what for, but I get owing people and having to pay interest. So I’ll give you that," Jae starts in, rubbing at the back of his neck while he paces lazily around the redhead.

"You're walking around and think that having laid your eyes on a little badness, had life kick your ass a few times, that means you’ve seen it all. Look at you- You haven’t been touched by anything. Do you honestly think your life was the worst it could have been? You don’t have the right to be looking down on anyone when you’d do no different than any of us. I’ve got so many stories to tell you, Reno.”

A pauses, taking a deep breath in and considering his options.

“How’s this? Sometime down the road, you’ll meet some pretty little lady and she’ll pop out a kid, you’ll buy a house, have an attached house because you and Rude are still wiping each other’s asses. You already have a nice job, plenty of good food, your kid’s getting ready to go to school and all is good with the world. Then, surprise: It’s a girl this time! Except there’s something wrong with this one. You thought I was a screw up? Well, this future kid of yours will be just as bad: can’t do anything right, getting into all sorts of trouble, meeting all the wrong sorts of people and if the men in her life aren’t fucking her, they hate her. Absolutely hate her. So- How do I know this, you ask? The short of it is, I'm gonna die. Maybe tonight, maybe tomorrow. But when I come back, that kid? She’s gonna be me. And that’s when you’ll get your chance to show me how a real ‘harder than a coffin nail’ guy like you manages to survive having the cards and the damn boxes they came in stacked against you. And who knows? Maybe it won’t be your family. Maybe I’ll have racked up enough negative points to end up a fuckin’ rock, but if there was any cock I could suck in the spirit world to gain access to the reincarnation jacuzzi where I get to choose where I end up? I’d do it. Just to look smug little assholes like you in the eye and spit in it. Or maybe I’ll get to show you how little it takes for you to look your own daughter in the eye and realize how easy it is to hate her. No, I’m not gonna ‘fuck off’ and I’m not gonna bow down and kiss your ass just because you think you’re better than me.” @gcldfanged ( is this a love confession, jae ? )

#[ ⁰⁰⁵ ; READING YOUR CONFESSIONS LIVE ON AIR ]#gcldfanged

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bambisgirl · 3 years ago

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confident ; 52. for y/n

previous | m.list | next

warning! mentions of drugs and self hate

order is: written part, screenshots, written part, screenshots!

yeonjun is taking drugs for his anxiety.

your head is spinning.

i put half a pill in your drink that night, y/n. please forgive me.

your whole body is shaking.

i was jealous and stupid. i’m sorry. i’m seeing a therapist now. i’ll get better.

eve’s words keep replaying in your head.

“ryujin knows about this?” you asked her with a low voice, trying your best to not burst into tears right there — it was all in vain, though.

as eve nodded, confirming the fact that your roommate was aware of the fact that one of your closest friends put something in your drink that night at the frat house, you gasped and the tears immediately started rolling down your cheeks.

i’m so sorry, y/n. please don’t hate me.

your grip on the sheets tightens as uncontrollable sobs come out from your parted lips, the aching feeling in your heart making your hands tremble.

all of this because she was jealous and wanted you to embarrass yourself? it’s been hours since you found out but you still can’t believe it, eve has never showed any kind of interest in men before.

why didn’t she tell you she liked heeseung throughout highschool? why did she hide the fact that she began having a crush on sunghoon this semester? you’ve been nothing but supportive of her, you wouldn’t have started messing around with sunghoon if you were aware of her feelings or maybe even help her get together with heeseung since the two of you are just friends and nothing more.

hundreds of questions with answers you might never know frantically go through your brain. your sight is blurry as you take a quick look through the apartment, mentally thanking hayoon again for letting you stay here for free.

“it’s huge!” you said, turning around to see jay’s reaction. “jake is going to love it.”

“yeah, it’s really nice.” jay nodded, your excitement making him smile as he took a quick look around the apartment. “we’ll take it for the night!”

“awesome.” the girl your age grinned, her glare lingering on jay more than it normally should. “i hope your friend will enjoy his birthday party.”

“can i use the bathroom?” jay asked the owner after he was done paying. he insisted he should pay for the rented apartment all by himself since you were already buying the cake — like cake was the same with a huge apartment in the center of seoul.

“it’s all yours until the day after tomorrow so feel free to do whatever you want as long as you’re not destroying my mom’s plants.”

“by the way, i’m hayoon.” she stepped forward to shake your hand as soon as jay closed the bathroom door. “my parents are out of town for a few months so i’m putting our apartment up for rent since i need some money for my art classes.” you smiled at her honesty. “in the meantime, my friend is letting me stay at her place for free since she’s super freaking rich.”

“it’s nice to meet you, hayoon. i’m y/n and i promise i’ll take care of your mother’s plants.”

“thanks.” she patted your shoulder. “i really like you. if you ever need a place one day, you’re always welcome to stay here. i suppose you already have my phone number from the announcement.”

so here you are now, laying on the small bed in hayoon’s obscure room and feeling more miserable than ever.

what are you even doing here?

hayoon insisted you can stay here for free as long as you bring your own food and buy her a pack of cigarettes when she comes back from the art competition she left town for. she doesn’t put the place up for rent when she’s not in seoul because of safety reasons, if anything happens she’d like to be around.

you couldn’t stay in your dorm room knowing that ryujin hid this from you the whole time. you couldn’t go home either, not being able to drive for one hour and a half because of the fucked up state you were in. you also didn’t want to go to sunoo’s dorm as the only thing you wished for in this moment was to be alone.

you’re absentmindedly staring at the ceiling, remembering all of the times you and eve hung out and laughed together. were you a good friend to her? is she alright right now? did she even care about you as much as you cared about her?

you hug your knees up to your chest and lay on your side, trying your best to not stain hayoon’s pillows with your smudged mascara.

the saddest thing about betrayal is that it never comes from your enemies, after all.

“please be here. please be here.” jay mumbles under his breath, hurriedly climbing up the stairs to hayoon’s apartment. why did she have to live on the third floor?

what should he do? bang on the door like a crazy man and scare the shit out of you or just lightly knock, hoping you’ll calmly let him in. are you even in here, though?

risking making a fool out of himself, he knocks twice and tries to catch his breath.

you wake up from the short nap as you heard the noise, quietly getting up from the bed. hayoon must be home earlier so you make your way to the door, hoping she won’t scream and wake up all of her neighbors when she sees your swollen eyes and messed makeup.

“y/n, oh my god!” jay immediately engulfs you in a tight hug, slamming your head against his chest.

you’re confused. “jay?” you lightly place your hands around his waist, dizziness taking over you. “what are you doing here?”

hearing your throaty voice makes him widen his eyes. “y/n! what happened?” he steps back a little to take a proper look at your face. “have you been crying? are you alright?”

and you don’t know if it’s jay’s familiar smell or his sincere eyes looking down at you with so much concern, but you bury your head in his chest again.

jay is warm. and you need warmth now.

he rests his chin on your head, leisurely stroking your back. “i’m here, y/n.” he reassures you with a soft voice. “i won’t go anywhere. i’m here to take care of you, angel.”

he doesn’t care he’s in the familyzone. he doesn’t care you see him as this big (step) brother you’ve never had because, in this moment he knows you’re in need of someone.

and he loves to be that someone more than anything.

previous (friends don’t look at each other that way) | m.list | next (heezoned)

notes: sorry for the slower updates!! the story is coming to an end so i have to plan everything carefully :’) tysm for reading & im looking forward to everyone’s feedback as always ^_^

taglist #1 (closed): @heetrbl @ultnishimura @jeonkoookiee @kdream-factory @jjhmk @cyuuupid @tangledbutterflies @miiiwaa @solitxre @anothershorthuman @abdiitcryy @axartia @tmrwxtgther @luvrseung @zhaixiaowen @pshwyfie @en-heart @hee-in @glxwingstar @artgukk @qtsoob @enhasengene @arizejkt19 @sunshine-skz @linsixie @bigtoewinwin @jjklvr00 @yeeunjia @kayalayadayla @gongiz @lordduckass

#enhypen #enhypen smau #enhypen au #enhypen social media au #enhypen text #enhypen fluff #enhypen angst #heeseung smau #jay smau #jake smau #sunghoon smau #enhypen x reader #enhypen x you #confident.bgm🎠#nsfw.bgm ☆

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rommahh · 3 years ago

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{Harry in sparkly black….Harry lemme **** *** *** for free}

You hadn’t talked to Harry all day. Not that you were mad at him or anything but your therapy this morning left you feeling a little spacey. There was something about talking about your emotions that left you feeling emotionally drained.

You missed Harry terribly and though it’s only been a short week, you felt very lonely. But on another note, your anxiety wasn’t as bad as it was. You were starting to feel like your normal self again but missing something.

You loved the tight knit life you have with Harry. You like being around him most hours of the day. You two were inseparable. If you were in the shower, he was in the bathroom reading a book from the lounger chair in the corner. If he was writing music on the beach, you were somewhere on the shore collecting shells. If you were going to the grocery store the least he could do was go for the drive with you. You two were close and it was something the both of you were ok with.

Some couples don’t like being so close but it worked for you and Harry. Being away from Harry was a weird experience. It’s only been a week but you feel like it’s been a lifetime. You haven’t minded being on your own but you wanted to be with the person you felt most connected to.

So being you, you purchased a ticket to Chicago. You didn’t know how Harry was going to react but you could only assume it would be a positive reaction. You told Jeff that you were coming so he could get you a hotel key and backstage pass.

As you sat in the airport you felt your back pocket buzz- your music pausing for the call. Your hand slipped into the pocket roughly pulling out the small phone. Harry’s icon, him in a fluffy robe looking as grumpy as ever, met your eyes. You cursed because you were quite obviously in the airport and if he saw you, the surprise would be ruined.

You answered anyways but only for audio. You made sure that your airpods were snug in you ear and there was no chance of them falling out.

“My lover!” Harry greets you a in sing song voice. You could hear his humph as he recognizes that you didn’t answer with the FaceTime video on. “Turn your camera on.”

“Can’t, I’m not feeling good.” You fib nervously. Harry frowned, nervous that he may have done something to upset you.

“Oh, alright. What’s wrong then?” He asks. You chew your lip trying to think of an answer.

“Uh, period.” You stammer.

“Your period doesn’t start for another few day…saw it on the tracker.” Harry may have your period tracker on his phone but it was because he wanted to make sure he was able to comfort you the best way he could when he needed to.

“Must be the meds-“ The sound of your boarding attendant sounded over your head cutting you off. “Hey bubs, I’ve actually got to go but we can’t chat later.”

“Sure, that’s fine I guess. Love you.” He mumbles, confused by the phone call. You hang up leaving Harry a little lost in his thoughts.

Later, Harry sang through his rehearsal carelessly, his head clouded with thoughts. He even sang through TBSL and though he was in the worst of moods, fans waiting at the venue thought he never sounded better.

You on the other hand had just sat through the worst flight of your life. There was a woman in the flight who didn’t want to wear her mask causing commotion before the flight could even take off. You had the worst headache halfway through the flight and because of the lack on supplies, the flight couldn’t give you any ginger ale or accommodations.

You didn’t let any of it get to you though as you directed for the chauffeur Jeff sent for you to go to the venue for show.

Harry sat in the common room backstage with the band and Jeff eating dinner grumpily. His fork was stabbing every little piece of lettuce of his salad, everyone watched worried that he may break his bowl.

“HS3 is trending on Twitter today, pretty exciting.” Jeff says to Harry breaking the silence. Jeff just received a text from you saying that you arrived to the venue and were walking towards Harry’s dressing room.

“Mmm great.” Harry grumbles. Jeff rolled his eyes at the diva.

“Someone’s a little pissy this evening. How about you go fix that mood before you greet your fans with a bad attitude.” Jeff scolds him like a child who just got caught doing something they shouldn’t have. Jeff really didn’t care about Harry’s attitude, used to the moods at this point, but he needed a way for Harry to leave the room and see you in the dressing room.

“Fine, didn’t want to be around anyways.” Harry shrugs.

Back in Harry’s dressing room, you rolled your suitcase into a corner where Harry’s outfit for the night resided on a hanger. You smiled at the sparkly black top that you helped pick out. You walked around his dressing room from the hair and makeup table, past the bathroom/ dressing area, and back around to the couch’s and coffee table where you took a seat. You snagged one of his green juices needing the boost of energy from being on the flight.

You heard the door knob jiggle but stayed planted in you seat sipping on the juice. You never made a peep as Harry barged through the room, scowl covering his face. He stormed past the couch not batting an eye at you. He went to the mini fridge where his juices were before letting an exasperated sigh.

“Who fucking took my juice?” He whines. You quietly giggle in your hand at his tone.

“Im sorry, thought I could have it.” You chuckle. Harry leaps from where he stands letting out a yell. He turns to look at you with wide eyes, hand over his chest as if his heart was going to explode from his chest. You stood from the couch waiting for him to react more but he just stood there in shock. When the realization of you actually being there kicked in he let out another yell before bounding over to you.

Before you knew it, you had two strong arms wrapped tightly around you. Your wrapped around his neck, hands and fingers spread through his hair. His face tucked into your lower neck peppering desperate kisses all over just to feel something.

“What are you doing here?” You hear him cry. You pulled away from him to wipe his eyes of the tears that streamed down his face.

“I needed to see you.” Was all you could muster. He pulled you down on the couch, your body cushioning his larger frame. He laid in between your legs, your back flat in the body of the couch.

“Im so happy your here.” Harry couldn’t even put his excitement into words. He knew you were coming in a week but to have you here earlier than that made him feel things. He sat up from suffocating you into the couch, allowing for you to sit up beside him. “What about your therapy? I hope you’re not jeopardizing your mental health to be here with me cause I would much prefer if you put me on the back burner and took care of yourself.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “I’m ok. I still will see my therapist virtually, I’ve got all new meds that are working fine, and if all goes to shit I will go back home. It’s ok bubs.” You reassure him.

He grabs your face with both hands pulling your face to his. Your lips meet with need. His lips slotting with yours, moving slowly but with rigor as if he was scared you would slip from his fingers. Your bottom lips fit between his lips leaving for him to suck on it slightly. You moaned at the feeling making Harry pull you in tighter. You sat slightly upon his lap, chest against each other tightly. Your tongues pushed at one another, lips loving in tangent.

You pulled away when you felt his lower presence awaken. He whined at the loss of contact making you giggle.

“If we go any further you’re gonna be late for your show. I’ll give you more back at the hotel, yeah?” You say lowly trying to catch your breathe. He groaned resting his forehead on yours chasing your lips with chaste kisses making you smile.

“Fine, you owe my though. This is level three apology situation that can only be resolved with these things; sloppy blowies, butt stuff, or face masks if you catch my drift.” He chastised. You let out a deep belly laugh pushing yourself away from him. You two still sit facing each other, your legs slightly on top of his.

“You’re so nasty, but I may be able to arrange one of those.” You wink making Harry let out a triumphant laugh.

“Are you staying for the show? I understand if your not.” He questions fiddling with your fingers.

“Think it would be best if I didn’t. I’m really tired and I obviously need a nap if I’m going to be up for your post show antics.” You joke giving his nose a poke. He jokingly pretends to bite your finger in retaliation.

Harry went on stage that night happier than ever. He started plotting proposals from the second he walked you to the car with your suitcase and waved goodbye to you. You went to the hotel room and “accidentally” fell asleep wearing one of your most recent purchases curled up in your tour bus blanket.

Let’s just say that Harry not so accidentally woke you up after that concert ready to love all of his adrenaline off in you.

Part 2👀

#harry styles love on tour #hslot #hslot Chicago #harry styles angst #harry styles smut #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fic #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #Harry Styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot

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sofia-bach · 2 years ago

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figarofabbri:

“Baking and bird watching,” Fig said with a nod, “That’s really cool, would you ever open a bakery? If you haven’t already–or maybe that’s too much info. Your taste in music is great, by the way.” Fig answered. Fig wracked her head for if any of that information tipped her off on who the person might be, when paired with their outfit and size. She still was mostly drawing a blank. For all her thoughts about the girl being so anxious, at the feeling of her hand upon their hip, Fig’s outgoing confidence shifted into something shy, and lost for words for a few seconds. It was easy to be bold, but there was something really, really nice about being sweet. Fig held her breath for a little too long, and hoped her dancing partner would not notice as Fig looked down a bit as well, trying to find their footing, before looking back up, taking a breath, and deciding she’d just follow her lead. It would not be the most graceful dance, but at least she could avoid stepping on toes or ruining shoes.

“It’s complicated.” Fig grimaced a bit at the question. One part of Fig told them not to dig into it, this is a party not a therapy session. The other part of Fig was desperate to finally have someone she could say her worries out loud to, without worrying about their reaction.

“It’s more…..People, usually women, approach me at parties because they wanna make out and stuff, which like, I’m more than happy to, that’s just fun, and I’ve had a few hook ups here and there, and like, I’ll get coffee or drinks with them maybe once or twice after, but it never really goes past that. Usually because it’s one of those, wanting to confirm they like girls before they ask the girl they really want to be with out. Which, glad I’m people’s gay crisis and helping so many couples get together, but…..I do deep down kind of hope that one day someone will ask me for coffee before the party even happens, or even after the party and then we just keep getting coffee and stuff, hold hands and build blanket forts and watch movies in, go to my sports games-unless they’re on the team…I guess that means they’d be there anyways, late night lattes or tea or hot chocolate while painting or reading, going to concerts and stuff—not just the back seat of my truck. But my therapist is always like ‘You’re only in university and twenty two, two have so much time you’re just a baby” and she’s right but–“ Fig stopped herself, and looked back with embarrassment, "I am rambling way too much, I am SO sorry. I’d say is the whiskey I had earlier but I only had one and it didn’t hit at all so really just this is me….. Kind of really failing at being the cool aloof stranger woof anyways I hope that wasn’t too uncomfortable,” Fig laughed nervously. “Feel free to just ramble if you ever wanna too, like totally ok with that, I’m like SO sorry again. And um, I think it depends. Devil Wears Prada is probably my fave film. But I kinda just like specific movies that like, move me, you know? Not really one genre.”

“Thank you. I don’t think I’d open a bakery, I’m much too focused on getting my degree. And later on, I would like to find some job related to my field of study,” Sofia said, carefully avoiding mentioning her specific major. “It’s just a hobby I have. My stepmother says it’s a useful one, since we always have cookies and pastries and the like for guests to have with some tea or coffee... But we don’t have guests at home that often, really. And I usually end up eating them myself." Sofia used to feel quite self-conscious about that. She still did, most often than not, really. “May I ask, do you play sports at Redwood College?” she ventured to say, to get out of her own head.

Dancing a stiff waltz, Sofia took care to keep a respectable distance between herself and the other person, swaying slow enough to give them time to move along at their own pace. She had never lead a dance, and it showed. At least her partner wasn’t rushing her. At least they weren’t huffing in frustration or janking her around and clearing their throat to tell her to hurry up. Little relief, when Sofia herself knew she should have practised before coming. “I’m sorry, it’s been a long time since I’ve danced at all.”

The birdwatcher listened to what the cat-mask person had to say. Her fingers closed just a little tighter in the other’s hand. The experiences were not at all like her own, but there was something in there that she felt very close, and very deeply. They were confident, but perfectly able (without a drink on them!) to voice their own vulnerabilities. There was little that Sofia herself could say, though, beyond a sincere ‘someday you’ll find the right one’, which wasn’t really much of a relief in the present. “I think I would like to get coffee with you,” Sofia said softly. “Well, I’m not really a coffee drinker, but I can always order some tea.” Was that wise? This person had just said that they would go out for coffee with some of these ‘hook-ups’ every once in a while, but that they never went farther than that. Could she promise them she wouldn’t do the same? Cat-mask was so honest and accomodating, but Sofia knew how hurtful it could be, to start something just for it to fizzle out faster than a lit match. “I do like girls. I do already know that,” she stated a little clumsily. “And please, you don’t need to apologize. It’s alright to ramble.”

Sofia took a deep breath. She still didn’t know who this person could be, and with the very small pool of acquaintances she had, she was already certain she wouldn’t recognize this person even if they told her their name. In a sense, that made her feel a little safer than she expected. “Me, I... I guess I am just afraid that any love I have will always be just in my mind. I see someone I find cute and nice, and I like them so much it’s like... I already make up a whole story in my mind about how they might love me, and I think of how I would love them back, but I never act on it. And apart from that...” Sofia gulped. They had been so sincere and genuine with her, and she now felt she needed to be sincere like that as well. “I think that... That maybe nobody will ever like me for long. As if there is something that they will notice, and make them decide that they’ve had enough of me, and leave. As if I could only be loved at a distance, if at all.”

#. sofia bạch #. fig fabbri #happiestevent11

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avengers-x-reader · 3 years ago

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admittance

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

description: bucky has been having nightmares recently. all you want to do is help him, but it’s hard when he denies the fact that he’s having these nightmares in the first place.

word count: 1.8k

warnings: brief language, mentions of nightmares & violence, some angst i guess??

a/n: this is set before the events of TFATWS - bucky is speaking to a therapist, but the events with the flag smashers and all that jazz have not yet occurred.

Does he really think I don’t know what he’s doing? you think to yourself as you make your way through the apartment you shared with Bucky. The clock on the oven shows a bright green “3:28am,” and you sigh with the realization of how little sleep you’d been getting recently. You know that Bucky’s been getting even less sleep, though, and the thought makes your heart clench in pity.

Well, maybe pity isn’t the right word. Pity gives a connotation of weakness and sorrow on behalf of the weak. You knew for a fact that Bucky Barnes was not weak. After everything he’s gone through in his life, and after everything he’s done to try and make amends with the people he’s hurt, you considered him to be the strongest person you’ve ever met. However, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of sadness and compassion over your boyfriend’s struggle to sleep as he forced himself to come face-to-face with the acts of violence he’d committed in his past.

For the past few weeks, Bucky had been transitioning to sleeping on the living room floor whenever he was kept awake due to nightmares. He never flat-out admitted that nightmares were the cause of his sleepless nights, but after putting together the puzzle pieces of his sweat-soaked sheets, his tossing and turning, and his reluctance to talk about why he’d been sneaking out of your room most nights, you were able to figure it out for yourself.

You pass the island in the kitchen and smile sadly when you see Bucky sleeping, curled up on floor just as you’d suspected he’d be. At least he’s getting some sleep, you think, but this relief is short-lived and it disappears when he begins to thrash around.

“Honey?” you call out softly, not wanting to startle him awake. You know that Bucky is a bit disoriented when he first wakes up, especially after he’s had a nightmare, and you don’t want to make his transition to the real world any more jarring than it had to be for him.

Your soft voice did nothing to wake him up or stop his thrashing, so you bend down to his level and try again. “Bucky, babe, please wake up.”

Your hand resting gently on his shoulder is what eventually does the trick. His eyes open harshly, and he sits up as he attempts to gasp for breath.

“There you are,” you whisper with a smile, but tears start to build in your eyes as you think of how much pain Bucky must be in. He’s still trying to catch his breath as he looks frantically around the room before settling his gaze on you.

“I’m sorry, doll,” he whispers, rubbing his eyes. “Did I wake you?”

You choose your words carefully. He didn’t know that you knew about his nightmares, and you didn’t want to ask him about them if he wasn’t ready to talk about them. “Not at all. I got thirsty and came out for a drink, and wanted to know what you were doing on the floor all by yourself.”

Bucky gives a short, unamused laugh and shakes his head before replying, “I just couldn’t sleep.”

“Got it,” you nod. Your hand has been rubbing slow circles on his back in an attempt to slow down his breathing, and slowly but surely, his breaths have been calming down as you sat next to each other. “You’ve been sleeping out here a lot recently,” you continue softly.

“Well what do you want me to do about that?” he asks louder than you’d been talking before. He pushes himself to his feet and begins pacing the room. “I come out here so that I don’t wake you up and you’re mad. If I stayed in our room and kept you awake with me, I’m sure you’d be mad then, too. So what would you like for me to do?”

You didn’t reply for a good minute or so. You stare at him for a while, trying to figure out where this sudden outburst was coming from. You didn’t take it personally, but you still didn’t appreciate him lashing out on you when you were just trying to understand what was going on in his head. Finally, you reply, “I just want to be there for you.” This causes Bucky to stop his pacing and stare at you, but you continue, “I know you’ve been having nightmares, and I know you’re trying to keep me in the dark about them, but I don’t know why.”

“I-I’m not-” Bucky tries to interrupt, but you cut him off. “Yes, you are. I can tell. Now you don’t have to talk to me about them if you don’t want to, and you don’t even have to come back to our room to sleep at night if being with me is causing more of an issue, but don’t sit here and lie to my face about something as obvious as this. It’s insulting.”

You recognize that you’re being a bit harsh, but you wanted to get through to Bucky that you know about his nightmares, and you want to help him through them as much as you could - however you could.

Bucky walks towards where you’re still sitting on the floor and holds his hands out as an invitation to help you stand. You accept, grunting a bit as you’re pulled swiftly to your feet. He says nothing as he keeps your hand in his and leads the two of you back to the bedroom. Your confusion must be showing on your face, because he looks back at you and says softly, “It’s not you that’s the issue.”

“Then what is?” you ask, still allowing Bucky to lead you to the bed. The two of you lay down under the covers as you await his response. “James,” you continue with a just-as-quiet, but sterner tone of voice.

Bucky bites his lip and looks away with a sad smile. “It’s me,” he says simply. “I’m the issue,” he carries on before you can ask any questions.

“That’s the biggest pile of bull shit I’ve heard in my entire life,” you scoff, wrapping your arms around your boyfriend’s body. He usually feels so much bigger than you, but in this moment, he may as well be half your size. He folds in on himself, and you can tell from the way his shoulders are shaking that he’s crying.

“I’m trying to make amends,” he begins to explain through his tears. “I’m trying to act better, do better, be a better person, but it’s so hard when I’m reminded over and over again about how fucked up I used to be.”

“You’re doing your best,” you try to comfort him, but this seems to just make things worse as he turns away from you and shakes his head.

“Then I must be a pretty terrible person,” Bucky says dryly, “because apparently even my best isn’t good enough.”

Your heart sinks. Did someone tell him he wasn’t good enough? You know he’s been working with Dr. Raynor on making amends...she’s always seemed a bit harsh, from what Bucky’s told you about her. Did she say something about him not trying hard enough?

“Who told you that?” you finally ask.

“Nobody had to tell me. I just know,” he replies, keeping his back turned away from you.

You consider how you should respond for a few minutes. You don’t want to let him sit in this self-deprecating mindset, but you also know that you won’t be able to convince him otherwise when he’s so convinced already that he’s not doing enough to make amends. Finally, you say, “Bucky, look at me.”

He makes no effort to turn around and face you, so you say, “James Buchanan Barnes, turn your handsome face around and look at me.” He eventually complies and his lips are turned slightly upward into a smile, but his eyes are still glossy. “You can’t fix everything all at once,” you go on to say. “I know you want to be able to, and I know it’s hard knowing how many amends you need to make and the mental energy it takes to make these amends, but you have to stop putting so much pressure on yourself.”

“But if I don’t put this pressure on myself, I may never get it all done,” Bucky argues, squeezing his eyes shut and keeping them closed for a few moments. “You don’t know what it’s like.”

Your heart clenches, and you sigh heavily. “You’re right,” you admit. “I don’t know what it’s like. But that’s why I want you to talk to me about how you’re feeling, and admit when you need help, because otherwise I’m in the dark here. And you know I’m scared of the dark,” you smile sadly.

Bucky doesn’t say anything for a few minutes, but when he finally does, it says it with the clearest tone you’ve heard from him all night. “I love you so much.”

Aaaaand here come the waterworks, you think to yourself. “Oh honey, I love you too,” you reply, holding him tightly so that he couldn’t see the way tears had immediately sprung into your eyes. “I just want to help. I’m sorry if I’m being pushy or invasive, I just don’t want you suffering alone with these nightmares and this pressure of being ‘good enough’.”

“I know,” Bucky says. “You’re not being invasive...you’re being a good girlfriend and a good person. That’s part of what I love about you so much - your selflessness and your intense need to just...help people.”

You nod into his chest, hoping your tears weren’t dampening his bare skin. “Just let me know how I can help you. I’ll do anything.”

Bucky thinks on this for a moment before saying, “You’re right, ya’ know...about the nightmares. That’s what’s been keeping me awake these past few weeks...and I know that you know you’re right, I just feel like I have to admit it to you so that I can try and move on from them myself.”

You pull away from his chest, not caring anymore if he could see you crying. He knows you well enough at this point to probably assume you were crying, anyways. “Whatever you need to admit out loud...whatever you need to talk about. I’m here,” you assert with a strong voice. “I’m here,” you repeat quieter, moving your hand up to cup his cheek.

“You’re here,” Bucky whispers with a smile, nuzzling into your palm. His eyes flutter shut, and you hope he’s attempting to get some more sleep.

You aren’t naive enough to think that you can get rid of Bucky’s nightmares, but you and him both know that you’ll be there to talk them through with him when they occur next time - whenever that may be.

thank you for reading - i hope you enjoyed!! requests are open and welcome :)

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky #bucky x reader #tfatws #bucky imagine #bucky barnes imagine #bucky one shot #bucky barnes one shot #fluff #angst #imagine #one shot #reader insert #avengers imagine #avengers one shot #avengers x reader

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vintagedaydreams · 3 years ago

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Hey guys- not a TLNRS update, I know. But not something I’ve been writing instead either! I actually found this on my phone.

It’s not complete- more of a scene. And it won’t ever be completed. But if you want to run with it- go for it.

Sorry it’s so long without a page break.

Warnings: some strong language, talk of suicide. Not as dark as it sounds.

You work at MI6 in the Admin/Research dept. working on cover stories and recon work for locations/marks/etc.

You work with a handful of other people in the dept and you have a good pal in your desk mate: Katelyn.

All of the agents-Double Ohs included - go into the Research Dept frequently to get folders on their missions and their marks. Everybody knows you-everybody likes you. You’re competent and your peers usually have you look over their work as well when dealing with difficult marks or missions.

You jumped on the couch as the door slammed open, bouncing off the wall. Scrambling to your feet, you looked over to see James Bond filling the doorway, blue eyes spitting sparks. You took a moment to admire him, his aura of danger and confidence dark and practically pulsing around him, before you realized with a start that he was glaring at you.

“…Bond?” you asked hesitantly and, apparently taking that as permission, he stalked into your small apartment in the heart of London. The door was shut in much the same way as it was opened and you gave a wince for your poor neighbors.

“Did I interrupt something?” he asked, voice pitched low and dangerous. You shivered at the tone, though it wasn’t in fear. Oh dear. You were in trouble.

“Um,” you looked around in confusion at the half eaten tub of ice cream and the movie playing quietly in the background, “no?” It was stated more than asked. Especially since he seemed to have an answer to his question already.

“Then you won’t mind if I join you,” he almost snarled, making his way over to you. Your eyes, about the size of dinner plates by now, widened even more.

“What?” you squeaked out. Bond, the James Bond was all but foaming at the mouth and he was going to stay?

“Going to interrupt any plans of yours?” he bit out and you blinked.

“Plans? Um, no…” A low rumbling sounded through the apartment .

“Are you….are you growling at me?” you gaped in disbelief. Suddenly, you found yourself gripped by strong hands, Bond an inch away from you.

“Don’t lie to me, Y/N,” he ground out and the anger that had been slowly building at all his growls and snarls finally sprung forth.

“What are you talking about, Bond?” you growled right back. He blinked for a moment before his face darkened even further than before.

The man stepped closer, if that was possible until you were flush against each other. You felt your stomach flip and you gulped, looking up into his eyes.

Blue eyes stared down at you and the hands gripping your shoulders loosened ever so slightly before he gave you a small shake.

“Katelyn told me about your conversation,” he intoned darkly, an eyebrow rising in a challenge to deny it. Your brow furrowed.

“Conversation? What conversation?” Katelyn and you had had many conversations, the most recent of them centering around the man in your apartment, but you had no idea what topic could have Bond so…well, upset was a bit tame for his current mood….

“Did you really think that I wouldn’t find out?” he growled out, effectively bringing your thoughts back to him. Find out….? Find out!

Your eyes widened. Katelyn wouldn’t…she wouldn’t have told him about your conversation yesterday when you’d said that you were pretty sure you were attracted to 007! No, she wouldn’t have thought that was a big enough deal to tell the Double-Oh in question. Everyone thought that man was attractive.

Then what…?

“You should know by now, that when I claim people as mine, I take an interest in their lives,” Bond continued, eyes glaring down at you. Apparently your silence had already condemned you.

You fought the major blush that threatened to make itself known at his wording. Claimed you as his? Oh, if only!

“Bond,” you started, voice mellow and as soothing as you could make it.

“Don’t,” he interrupted, low and dangerous. You sighed.

“What are you so worked up about? I’m sure everyone’s thought it at least once!” you defended yourself. Really, the only possible answer to his mood was that Katelyn had told him, for whatever reason, that you found him attractive. And apparently, he didn’t like that.

Ouch. There went your pride and self esteem.

“That’s your excuse?” he demanded, voice sounding almost incredulous. “So because everyone else has thought it, you can too?”

“Not quite what I meant,” you muttered as his grip tightened once again. “I just meant that it shouldn’t be a big deal to you! I’m not the first!”

The room went deadly silent and you hesitantly gazed into the glacier eyes above you. You didn’t understand what was so terrible about you finding him attractive, (were you that repulsive?), but he really was making too big a deal out of it. You were shy! It’s not like you would’ve ever said or done anything to him!

“Never say it shouldn’t be a big deal to me,” Bond suddenly hissed and you felt a bit uneasy at the look on his face. You weren’t afraid of him, but you knew what he could do and you also knew that he had a reputation for being unpredictable and out of control. You were in hot water and just starting to realize it.

“Really, Bond,” you murmured, trying to salvage the situation before somebody, most likely you, got hurt, “it’s really not that big of a deal. Can we just…forget I ever said it and you ever heard it?”

His hands tightened on your arms even further and you knew there’d be bruises there tomorrow.

“No,” he answered, voice deadly soft, “I will not forget it.” Suddenly he ripped himself away from you and started pacing the floor furiously.

“Damn it, Y/N! Why can’t you take this seriously?! Do you have any idea, any idea at all, what was going through my head when Katelyn told me? No, of course you don’t. Well, let me tell you something, Y/L/N,” he snarled, “if you want to commit suicide and ‘end it all’ then I suggest you find yourself another job. Because if you stay at MI6, you’re mine and I am not going to let anybody, least of all you, take you away from me!”

Once again, silence rang out in your apartment and you stood there, gaping at Bond.

“Commit…..what?” you asked, mentally going over all your conversations with Katelyn. You telling her that you were going to ‘end it all’ was never part of any of them. YOu were actually quite happy with life where you were, thank you very much. Granted, it’d be better if you had a certain someone to share it with, but suicide? Yeah, never touched on that topic.

“I know your vocabulary is better than that,” Bond spat, finally stopping his pacing. You flinched at the acid in his tone.

“Bond, I never—“

“Expected her to squeal? No kidding. I figured that you didn’t want her to, if our little conversation a minute ago was any indication.”

“No, Bond, I was under the impression—“

“That I didn’t care? Yeah, got that one too. Well here’s a news flash for you, I do. And I will. So I suggest that you take up some counseling because you’re not going to die on my watch.”

“Bond,” you sighed, “honestly, can I get a word in? I’m not going to commit suicide.”

“Damn right you’re not,” the agent in front of you growled. He was suddenly right in your space again. “I’m going to stay here tonight with you and tomorrow, you’re going to a therapist.”

You backed up a step, feeling a bit…flustered, not to mention frustrated, with his close proximity.

“Will you just listen to me?!” you yelled, throwing your hands up in the air in ill repressed ire. “I am not going to commit suicide because I don’t want to! I never planned to and I never talked about it with Katelyn!”

The silence that descended on you was thick and you crossed your arms against your chest, glaring at the agent in front of you. He looked torn between not believing you and wanting to.

“You never mentioned suicide to Katelyn?” he asked finally, voice lower and not quite so angry this time around.

“No,” you said quietly, relief coloring your voice that he finally seemed to be listening to you.

Blue eyes bored into your own, but you stared back at him, refusing to show anything that could be taken as guilt or uneasiness. You’d finally gotten the man to listen to you. You didn’t want to give him any reason to doubt you word.

You were not going to a freakin’ therapist.

“And you’ve never thought about committing suicide?” he pressed, once again stepping forward until he was in your space.

“No,” you repeated, with only a hint of impatience. Really. Why did he believe Katelyn so readily but not you?

“Then you won’t mind if I stay here tonight,” he suddenly said, eyes once again daring you to challenge him. Which, normally, you wouldn’t. But tonight, he’d broken in, interrupted your coveted “alone with a movie and ice cream” time, yelled at and accused you of shit you didn’t actually do and now demanded you house him for the night.

Yeah…not in this lifetime.

“I do mind, actually,” you shot back, eyes narrowing at the agent. “I don’t need a babysitter and now that I’ve told you that I’m not suicidal, there’s no reason for you to stay.”

You turned to the couch and went to sit back down. “Especially with that attitude of yours,” you muttered under your breath. Really, there were days it was like dealing with a five year old. Pretty sure he was supposed to be acting older than you.

“Y/N,” came the warning growl from behind you and you rolled your eyes.

“Seriously, Bond, you can relax, okay? I’m not suicidal, I don’t want to ‘end it all’ and I’ll see you tomorrow at work.” You finally turned to look at him over your shoulder. “Unless you’re going on another mission…?”

The Double-Oh stared at you for a moment before shaking his head. “No mission yet.”

You nodded once, “Good. Then I’ll see you at work tomorrow.” You turned your attention back to the movie that had made quite a bit of progress since you’d been so rudely interrupted and pretended to not hear the soft cursing behind you or feel the glare being shot to the back of your head.

There was blissful silence in the apartment for a few minutes, (aside from the movie), before Bond finally piped up, “Really, Y/N? Harry Potter?”

You shot your own glare at him over your shoulder. “For your information, I happen to like Harry Potter. And you’re not even supposed to still be here, so no dissing the movie that’s playing.”

To your surprise, annoyance, disbelief and, you admit, slight pleasure, Bond moved around the couch arm and sat down not two inches from you, grabbing your tub of ice cream off the coffee table and spooning some into his mouth.

“At least you have good taste in this,” he muttered, blue eyes locking onto yours. It took you a second, but you realized he was teasing you. You weren’t aware the man had a playful bone in his body!

Once you got over your shock you managed to answer back, “It’s been known to happen.” You plucked the spoon out of his hand and took your own bite of the chocolate ice cream. “But this is mine. Go grab your own.”

“Now, now, Y/N. I think you should share.”

“Ha!” You barked a laugh, “Whatever for? You broke in here, remember? I didn’t bust into your house!”

“I would advise you never trying that,” he said, suddenly serious. “Good way to get shot.”

“Bond,” you said back just as serious, “I don’t know where you live and I don’t want to know.”

He tilted his head. “Yeah? And why’s that?”

“Because I’d probably be tempted to come over and try to shank you in your sleep,” you said with an angelic smile.

Bond met your smile with a dastardly smirk of his own.

“Are you sure it’d be to shank me?”

You gave him a shove with your shoulder as you spooned more ice cream out of the tub still in his hands.

“Yup. Perv.”

His chuckle made a shiver run up your spine and you realized he needed to leave. Like, now.

Putting the spoon in the tub, you leaned back onto the couch and turned back to the movie. “When you leave, would you put that in the freezer and lock the door on your way out?”

He leaned back as well, putting one arm on the back of the couch behind you before he answered. “I’ll put it in the freezer and lock the door, Y/N, but I’m not leaving.”

You turned your head, unintentionally pressing your cheek against his forearm. You had to physically stop yourself from jerking away as if burned. With Bond, showing any kind of weakness wasn’t necessarily a good thing.

And he was definitely a weakness of yours.

“Whaddya mean you’re not leaving? I thought we decided that I didn’t need a babysitter.”

“You mean you decided you didn’t need a babysitter.”

“Bond,” you growled and he shrugged. Shrugged! As if you were discussing the weather!

“Don’t call me a babysitter then. Call me something else.”

“Oh, believe me, Bond, there are several things I’d like to call you,” you muttered hotly, “and none of them are particularly flattering.”

The grin he gave made you almost give in and do pretty much whatever he wanted you to. Someday, this thing you had over Bond was going to get you into so much trouble.

“How about we just say that we’re two friends hanging out, alright? You don’t have to call me anything.”

Since moving to England, you didn’t have a whole lot of friends you hung out with, but you were still pretty sure that it only qualified as ‘friends hanging out’ if both parties were willing. But, you’d already missed about a third of the movie and could feel a headache coming on so you just nodded.

“Fine. Whatever you say, friend.”

Bond gave a small grunt of triumph and relaxed further into the couch after depositing the ice cream on the table once again. Your head was still in contact with his arm, but he was warm and solid next to you, so you decided to just enjoy the rare closeness you had with the man and focused on the rest of Harry Potter.

It wasn’t until the movie was over and Bond was putting the ice cream away that the shit hit the fan. Again.

You were in the middle of stretching when Bond came back into the living room, barefoot and no tie.

“Hey, Y/N, you want—“ he cut off abruptly and you stopped stretching to look at him expectantly.

“Do I want what, Bond?” you asked after a few moments of silence, but the man wasn’t paying attention to you but rather looking at your arms.

Looking down, you saw why.

“Wow,” you murmured to yourself, “I thought I had until at least tomorrow before those showed up.”

“What happened?” Bond demanded, narrowed blue eyes never leaving the dark bruises around your upper arms.

You’d never been good with taking things very seriously, especially if you didn’t find them to be a big deal, but even you had to admit that saying, “Considering the work you’re in, I’m surprised you don’t recognize your own handy work,” was a bit too…crass.

But, it’d already been said so you just gave a small rueful smile and apologized.

Figures, the apology would be what set him off.

“You’re apologizing to me for hurting you?” he demanded, voice loud once again. And here you’d thought you had met your quota for yelling today.

You groaned. “Oh for the love of…. Really, Bond? My neighbors are going to think I’m in some kind of domestic situation if you keep yelling. So, shush and help me get the house ready for sleeping.”

The super secret spy agent looked at you for a long moment while you patiently, (or as patient as you could be), waited for him to come to his senses already so you could get some shut eye.

“I should go,” Bond said after a moment. You crossed your arms.

“James,” you said softly, taking a step towards him, “I really would appreciate it if you stayed.”

The man in front of you scoffed, though blue eyes didn’t leave your own.

“A few minutes ago, you couldn’t wait to get rid of me.”

You scoffed yourself. “That’s because you were going to babysit me and thought I was suicidal of all things. Which I’m not. But I would like you to stay if you’re willing.”

Bond regarded you for a moment before stepping forward until he was directly in front of you. Warm fingers gently trailed over the darkening bruises on your arms.

“You’re sure you’d like me to stay?” he asked quietly, eyes boring into yours.

You gave a gentle smile. “I really would like nothing better.”

#james bond x reader #james bond imagines #reader insert

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pathetic-dumpling · 3 years ago

Text

Coming to Terms

Dream has been having a bad day, which has quickly turned into a bad week. Techno and Phil both need to go out and do essential tasks around the tundra, but they can't leave Dream alone either. So... they find a babysitter. words: 5,188 - read on ao3 instead

CW: overstimulation, implied panic attack, unintentional self-harm, referenced abuse

Dream has been having a bad day. Correction, he’s been having a bad week. He’s been caught in a bit of a spiral for the last several days, and the exhaustion from an attempt at healing keeps dragging him down before he can get out. The last thing Techno wants to do is leave Dream alone like this, but he and Phil have already pushed off as many necessary tasks as they can. They need to head out, but they can’t leave Dream alone… So in comes the Syndicate.

They consider a few people. Niki is chosen.

“Look, all you need to do is watch him for a day. We’ll be back by the end of it, and you can leave, alright?”

Niki scrunches her face up, which is, in all honesty, reasonable. She’s one of the people who didn’t want to interact with Dream, but Techno and Phil are running desperately low on options.

“Is there anyone else?” She asks. “What about Puffy? She’s a therapist, right? Wouldn’t she be more equipped for something like this?”

“A, we don’t want more people knowing about Dream than necessary, and she’s already refused to give Dream treatment. B, we don’t trust her to not psychoanalyze Dream when he really doesn’t want to be psychoanalyzed. Plus, we don’t know what kind of domestic issues there are because Dream hasn’t opened up about that part of his life yet.”

Niki winced. “What about Ranboo?”

“Well, you see, Ranboo’s been growing into himself recently,” Phil interjects, beside Techno. “Which is good, by all means, but that also means he’s been embracing that he’s a little bit of a dick sometimes. You’re literally the only person we can think of who can be… pleasant and hold your tongue around Dream.”

“And- and we don’t wanna sound misogynistic,” Techno quickly adds. “This isn’t a ‘the kind woman puts up with the toxic man’ situation; it’s just… Dream is fragile right now, like, really fragile, and we’re pretty sure you’re the only person who has the kind of self-restraint to not break him any more, you know?”

Niki raises a brow but ultimately sighs. “This is your only option?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah, pretty much,” Phil laughs.

“...alright. I’ll watch him. One day, got it?”

“Oh my gods, thank you so much, Niki.”

So Niki is given keys to the house. Mentally, she prepares for whatever Dream might try. She saw him, briefly, in a Syndicate meeting or two, but only between several layers of fabric and zero spoken words. She doesn’t know what he’s like if he’s grown out of his… nastier habits yet. Techno has done everything in his power to tell the Syndicate that Dream has changed, but none of them have actually seen any change. Niki kind of doubts it, if she’s being honest, but she trusts Techno’s judgment more than anything. She knows Techno wouldn’t lie to her and lead her on like others in the past.

She wakes up the following day when things are still dark. Niki can see her breath, even within the small haven of an underground city warmed by countless fires and lanterns. She throws on her Syndicate cloak, getting ready to head out to the arctic. Hopefully, Techno didn’t want her to do anything with the animals because she definitely wouldn’t be able to stand being outside for that long. When she arrives, Techno thanks her profusely. He pledges to show her around the house and offers a few tips while Phil gets ready for their trip outside.

“Alright.” Techno swings his hands by his sides. Niki has noticed he’s stopped clapping them when he begins to speak. “First things first, Dream hasn’t eaten in, like, three days, so we really need you to try to get him to eat something. His diet has been pretty limited so far, but we left a list of things he’s been able to eat so far on the counter. Try to stay fresh- anything stale makes him throw up, and so does steak. Don’t offer it. We keep apples in a little icebox downstairs because he likes fruit cold. Also, Dream likes himself cold, too. He gets anxious when he’s hot.

“If Dream hides in his room, he’s most likely hiding under his bed. If you need to interact with him during that time, do not try to pull him out. That will scare him and he might bite. Instead, just kind of lay on the floor and face him and just… wait until he’s ready to talk. If you try to push him, he’ll probably just curl up more, and he tends to get really distant for the next day or two when that happens.

“If he asks for something, it means that he needed it about three hours ago and has only now gotten the courage to ask for it. Even if he prefaces it between a lot of ‘only if you want to’ and ‘you don’t have to,’ don’t believe him. We’re trying to teach him that asking for things is good but it’s been a bumpy ride. Also, he’s iffy on touch; I’d say it’s better to not try.”

Techno stops, tapping his lip. “Try not to let him outside without supervision; we haven’t really been able to block off potential hazards yet. Other than that, I think that’s everything. Dream is sleeping right now, but he knows you’ll be here. He might get startled anyway. Try not to stare or anything. It makes him uncomfortable. Just treat him like a nervous cat or something.”

Niki blinks, trying desperately to process all of the information that was just dumped on her. Techno waits patiently as she mentally backtracks and tries to commit everything to vague memory. Nervous cat? That’s what the ruler of the server has turned into?

“Okay… I think I got all of that?” Niki says, hoping she got everything she truly needed down. She knows how awkward things get when she or Techno has to start repeating themselves.

“Cool.” Techno sighs, running a hand through his hair until it gets caught in his braid. “A nervous, injury-prone cat… That’s Dream. Thank you for doing this, really. Dream just started being okay with being in the same room as boiling water, and I think I might have a breakdown if I have to leave to make tea again. This means a lot. Anything you need from us, me or Phil, we’ll be happy to help as soon as we get back.”

Niki nods. “Honestly, I didn’t think this would be on the agenda when I joined the Syndicate, but I’m happy to help you, Techno.”

“Of course.” Techno bows his head. “Of course. We’ll be back as soon as we can. Again, don’t let him… do anything to himself, okay?”

Niki gives another nod and a thumbs up. “You can count on me, Techno.”

Techno gives a strained smile and then, awkwardly, does a slight bow before leaving. His muffled voice filters through the door as he calls out to Phil, and then they head out. Niki takes in a deep breath, holding it for a few seconds before sighing as she watches the silhouettes of her friends disappear over the horizon.

Alright. She can do this. She may not like Dream, but she did agree as a part of the Syndicate to… help. This is just for Techno and Phil, to keep them from worrying. To watch Dream and make sure he doesn’t try anything he shouldn’t. Niki could do that. In fact, she was happy to keep the man out of trouble, if it were for Techno’s sake. Now she just needed to find something to do until there was someone to watch.

Niki glances around the house, finding things pleasantly clean. The chests were a bit of a mess, but things weren’t lying all over the place, and it looks like it’s been cleaned recently. It looks like the house has been somewhat baby-proofed, too, which makes a little chuckle bubble in Niki’s throat. They’ve only been housing Dream, and he’s certainly a grown man, isn’t he? What would they need to keep him out of drawers for?

Niki gets to entertaining herself with one of Techno’s many book recommendations, making a tiny home for herself on the couch. She opens the blinds and curtains, letting any sort of light filter in as much as it can. The sun is slow to rise in the arctic, and candlelight can only do so much. Slowly, as the sun rises over the north, Niki finds herself growing more hungry, so she starts making some food. It gets bright soon after that, lighting up the room with the near-blinding rays of the sun. Niki adjusts soon enough, simply happy to have more than enough reading light.

A few hours later, after Niki has already eaten and taken care of her share of the dishes, Dream emerges. The first thing she notices is that he’s completely maskless. Secondly, he looks exhausted to the bone, drowned in a dark green jacket and a black shirt underneath. Loose-fitting pants cover Dream’s legs, almost completely hiding his figure from view. Dream’s eyes are dark, his posture slouched inward, and his hair is messy, long, and frail. He looks unbearably tense. His eyes squint at how bright it is, but he tries to shake it off quickly with a flick of his hands. He does a quick double-take on Niki, eyes darting around the room before relaxing slightly. His attention never leaves her, though. His gaze makes a shiver crawl up Niki’s spine.

“Good morning, Dream!” She says politely because maybe Dream is worse in the mornings.

Dream waves tiredly, and Niki notices his bandaged finger. Something about it looks off until she realizes it’s too short to be normal, missing nearly the entire first section. She wonders how it happened, how she’s never noticed before. Dream takes his bandaged hand, dragging it down his face. He lets out a long sigh, sitting down at the circular table in the kitchen, leaning heavily on it for support. He raises his hands, and although they tremble and shake, Niki recognizes one thing. Dream is signing.

Oh. It looks like Technoblade forgot to mention one thing.

“Oh!” She says quickly, tucking her book into her chest. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know sign language.”

Dream, from the table, raises a brow at her. He raises his hands, signing what Niki can only assume is: you don’t know sign?

“I always meant to learn, but the only people who use it actively on the server are Callahan and….”

Me. Niki can guess that one well enough.

“Yes… you. I’m sorry.”

Dream waves his hand dismissively. He gestures for a pen, which Niki retrieves without much hesitance. She may not like Dream, but she still needs to communicate with him if this day even has a chance at going well. She places the pen and small pad of paper on the table, stepping back quickly. Dream lets out a long breath before beginning to write.

I’ll show you some stuff I probably won’t be able to translate in the moment, Dream writes. Writing looks a little more challenging with the ever-present tremor in Dream’s hands and his shortened finger, but he makes do. He writes down a few simple words: can’t, stop, no, sorry, and shows the signs for each of them. Niki furrows her brow.

“These are all negative responses. What about… ‘yes’?”

Dream struggles to meet Niki’s eyes for a second, looking away almost immediately. He seems borderline uncomfortable. Slowly, he curls his hand into a fist, nodding it forward twice.

“Yes?” Niki asks in conformation.

Yes.

Niki nods, trying to commit this information, like everything else dumped on her today, to memory. Dream drops the pen after that, cradling his hands in his lap. They certainly… don’t stop shaking. Hm. Niki would ask about it, but she doesn’t really want to poke at any boundaries. Dream fiddles with his fingers, beginning to bounce his leg.

“Em-” Niki starts, catching Dream’s attention and picking at the back of her neck awkwardly. “Techno told me that you should probably eat today, right? I made food a few hours ago, but I can make something for you or….”

Dream waves his hands, furiously shaking his head. He scribbles down variants of I’m not hungry, and you don’t have to, which Niki isn’t given a chance to object to. Dream carefully gets up, grabbing the notepad beside him and pushing past Niki. He makes his way over to the couch, plopping himself down and sighing. Niki watches him, unsure of what entirely to do. She knows what Techno told her, but there was only so much that was truly in her power. It didn’t help how dismissive Dream appeared to be with her attempts at offering him food.

This Dream is… new, to say the least. She didn’t know the old Dream outside of what she heard from her peers, but she especially doesn’t know this Dream. Is he better? Does he know that what he’s done is bad? Terrible? Unforgivable, even? Does he regret it at all, or does he just think he’s a victim in all of this?

It takes two more attempts at getting Dream to eat before Niki’s patience starts running a little slim. She’s never had the time to talk to Dream before, but right now, he just seems nothing more than tired. He looks fine, if not a little skinny, maybe a little quiet. For all Niki knows, this could be a ploy, a trick, to live the high life off of Techno’s dedicated care and then run off into the woods. Niki feels a little nasty for thinking this, but what if Dream is just faking this all? What if he’s just playing it up for show and sympathy? To get free protection while his next plan brews quietly in the background? She’s heard about the lengths Dream was willing to go to in the past; what would make this different? She knows how convincing an actor Dream can be, and dedication to a part can take someone a long way.

Well… Now is as good of a time as ever to get a few things off her chest, Niki supposes. If Dream isn’t faking, he’ll have some kind of genuine reaction, and if he is, then, well… Niki can keep her friends from getting used again. It’s a win-win, really.

“You know, you’re very lucky Techno decided to care for you so much,” she says from the kitchen because the distance makes her feel safer. “He didn’t have to do all of this, you know? It’d certainly be easier for him to have ignored your favor. I would’ve.”

From behind, Niki hears a sharp intake of breath, but no objections come. Niki looks behind her at Dream, still sitting on the couch, wide-eyed and staring at her. He swallows, eyes darting to the side like he’s sorting through his thoughts. He gestures at Niki, a sort of go-on movement, so she turns around and continues. “Things like Wilbur, Doomsday, the festival, you played a role in all of those, you know? You’ve been the authority figure of the server for so long. You-- you had control over exile and Tommy and… Everything you’ve done, it’s hurt all of us. It’s- it’s hurt me, and I-”

There’s a loud, distinct sniffle behind Niki. Slowly, she turns to look behind her, finding Dream curled up on the couch. He brings his knees up to his chest, pressing tightly into himself. He’s looking to the side, almost shameful. His shoulders are shaking.

“...Dream?” Niki asks. Maybe this is the genuine reaction she’s looking for.

Dream nods sharply. He looks up, meeting Niki’s eyes, his own glassy and red and wet. His eyes fill with tears, so he quickly hides his face again, pressing it into the arm wrapped around his knee. It feels like he’s forcing himself to keep his gaze on Niki, and that information tastes a little bitter going down Niki’s throat. He lifts his head just enough to meet Niki’s eyes again, folding his hand into a half square and pressing it to his temple. Niki doesn’t know the sign, but she doesn’t need to.

I know, he says. I know.

Dream takes a shuddering breath, fingers dancing across the parts of the body he’s gripping. They speed up and slow down as he filters his thoughts, eventually coming to a standstill. He grabs his notepad with trembling hands, scribbling down something hastily, ripping out the paper, and holding it out for Niki while hiding himself. Nervously, Niki steps forward because the memory of powerful and quick and ruthless Dream has never left her, even when presented with the sight of the trembling man before her.

I know, the paper says. I want to listen. But not today. I can’t today.

Niki swallows. She looks at Dream, trembling and crumbling in on himself, and nods. “Okay,” she says. “I understand. I… I’m sorry. That was out of line, I...”

Dream nods quickly and sharply. His fingers tap quickly against his leg. Niki feels awkward, standing in front of Dream like this as he fidgets and shuffles. She puts a little distance between the two of them, retreating back to the kitchen. The house is plunged into a small period of unrelenting silence. Niki wished that she knew at least a little sign because maybe things wouldn’t be so awkward. Dream doesn’t look all too thrilled to be talking with her either way, though, so perhaps it was wishful thinking. He’s running a hand through his hair, pausing to tug on the long strands every few seconds.

Niki frowns. Has Techno told her anything about how to handle something like this? Sorting through her memory quickly tells Niki that, no, Techno hadn’t spilled anything helpful for a time like this. He’d asked Niki to make sure Dream didn’t do anything to himself, but certainly, he wasn’t that much of a danger to his own wellbeing, right? Techno had mentioned some other useful things, but he seems to have forgotten some details Niki would’ve loved to have. She sighs.

Niki supposes that the best she can do right now is swallow her words and try to be helpfully polite. To, in kinder words, simply watch Dream. She tried to ask him about some things here or there but mostly ended up talking at Dream instead of with him. That’s okay, Niki didn’t mind. She didn’t really go into today expecting some sort of riveting conversation, and the one she’d already tried to have ended oh-so-splendidly.

Suddenly, the sound of Dream’s stomach growling caught her attention. Niki looked back from her chunk of dough that she’d started kneading to fill the silence at Dream, who was caught like a deer in headlights. He looked to her quickly before starting off on what Niki thinks is a garbled bundle of excuses about how he wasn’t hungry again. Niki laughs kindly, making Dream’s hands pause mid-air.

“I’ll go get you an apple or something,” she says, running her hands under the sink to wash off the extra flour. “Techno showed me where everything was before you woke up. I’ll be back in just a second. Stay put, okay?”

Dream nods, hiding his face and giving a small thumbs up. The trip downstairs is quick, only interrupted by a skulk of three foxes Techno apparently kept in his basement. The box with cooled fruit was propped up, probably to keep the foxes out of it, Niki mused, if the scratch marks on the side were anything to go off of. Dream was sitting in virtually the exact same position Niki had left him in, nervously glancing at her when she approached. At least he’s good at following directions, Niki noted. She held out the apple, waited a long few seconds for Dream to take it, then set it on the table next to him. Dream’s eyes watched her with rapt attention, almost like he was afraid she was suddenly going to turn around and attack him.

After that little experience, Niki went back to kneading dough as pleasantly as she could. She couldn’t explain the small smile that crept onto her lips when the inevitable crunch of an apple being eaten hit her ears after minutes of silence. Niki chalks it up to the fact that Techno would be happy that Dream ate and tries to move on from it as passively as she can.

Shuffling fills the corners of the house between the clanging of various pans and Niki’s humming. Dream had come a little closer, sitting stiffly at the counter and watching Niki work after throwing his apple core into Carl’s stable from the window. He keeps the notepad close to him, bouncing the pen back and forth against the solid surface. Niki greets him and starts explaining what she’s doing, to which Dream nods along. She tries to suggest Dream join the baking whenever she can, moving pans around and into the sink when they’ve become dirty. Dream’s eyes follow her hands as she gestures around, eyebrows twitching downward every few seconds. Every semi-loud sound makes his eyes blink in surprise and something else Niki can’t quite place. It goes on like this for about half an hour, with various levels of participation coming from Dream.

Eventually, he begins to look more and more lost in thought, distracted, even borderline frustrated, eventually dropping his pen roughly and tapping his pointer finger against the counter. His other hand goes to his hair, pulling, as a small whimper tumbled into the air. Dream’s nail makes a quick tap, tap, tap that sounds borderline panicky, only increasing in speed. His shoulders are tense, and because Niki is so used to providing comfort to those unscarred by touch, she reached out for his shoulder.

Dream jerks away as soon as her hand meets his shoulder, a small, distressed noise leaving his throat. He stumbles onto shaky legs, looking almost as if Niki burned him. Niki, in return, pulled her hand back to her chest. Dream holds up a finger, a small give me a moment, before distancing himself. He hangs his head and holds up his hands, shaking them out almost violently as he paces the living room.

“Dream?” Niki begins to ask, watching the man pace and shake his hands. What was he doing? What was going on?

Her thoughts are abruptly cut off by a sharp yelp when Dream suddenly turns and pushes over a chair. This is still Dream at the end of the day, and once upon a time, he was terrifying and dangerous. Niki clamps her hands down over her mouth to keep any further sound from escaping when it makes Dream flinch. His breath picks up in shakiness and speed until a loud crash makes the house go silent.

Dream’s head whips around, finding a pile of shattered glass on the floor next to the chair he flipped over and the table it apparently took on its way down. He stares at it for a good, long second, the breath stolen from his lungs. A quick, strangled sob leaves Dream’s mouth as he drops to his knees, scrambling for the glass pieces. Hot, fat tears fill the corners of Dream’s eyes. His hands are shaking so much it makes the glass pieces he picks up clink against each other. Almost desperately, Dream tries to wipe away the tears, and Techno’s worry about Dream hurting himself suddenly becomes much more apparent as the world catches up to Niki.

“Oh- Dream, no, we- let’s not-” Niki drops to her knees beside Dream, holding her hands out gently. “Let’s not do that, okay? You’ve got glass in your hands.”

Dream doesn’t stop. The tears and sobs only spilling harder and faster. Niki doesn’t think this can get any worse, so she slowly puts her hand over Dream’s, grasping it and pulling it away gently. There’s no resistance, even as Dream digs his chin into his chest. Pricks of blood are already forming on scratches left on Dream’s cheeks from the glass, quickly mixing with tears. Dream starts signing something frantically, and Niki doesn’t know what he’s saying, but, oh, she wishes she did.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Niki tries. “Are you worried Techno will be angry?”

Dream nods, choking on another sob.

“I’m sure he won’t be!” Niki presents her hands, cupped, to Dream again. “He really cares about you, alright? He won’t be mad over a broken cup, okay?”

Dream makes a strangled sound that almost sounds like a “but” as he snaps his head up to face Niki.

“No. No buts.” Niki pushes her hands forward pointedly. “I’ll clean up the glass, okay? I think you should go lay down on your bed and rest. Calm down a little, alright? I’m supposed to be here to help, and Techno would be upset if you hurt yourself. I’ll let you know when everything’s been taken care of.”

Shakily, Dream brings his free hand up to his face, fingers touching the newly formed cuts as his lips trace Niki’s words. His eyes go wide, pressing down on the tiny bubbles of blood forming. He drops the glass into Niki’s hands, staggering up with a sharp breath. He mutters something too faint for Niki to catch before disappearing into his room. Niki picks up the rest of the glass, her hands thankfully much steadier than Dream’s own despite what just happened. Periodically, she glances up to Dream’s room, watching, waiting.

She isn’t quite sure what she’s waiting for, maybe for him to come bursting out, angry at being coddled, or perhaps for him to come slinking back with shaky hands and hot tears and try to help again. Whatever it is, it never comes.

Carefully, Niki spends a few minutes making sure no shards had spread out over the house or that she misses any finite pieces. After her searches come back clean, Niki moves to the knocked-over furniture. She rights the table and chair Dream had knocked over, huffing out a small sigh of relief. The living room was clean again, thankfully. She hopes Techno won’t be mad. That would just make her look bad when Dream was so clearly distressed over the whole ordeal.

At the thought of Dream, Niki makes her way over to his room. She knocks, the wood giving way and opening up into the small room. Dream lays on his bed, curled up into a ball, and appears to be fast asleep. The blankets look almost deliberately untouched around him. Niki steps into the dark room, noting the closed blinds on his window. Everything is kept down to nearly a depressing minimum, the only trace of life in the room being the messy, yet unmoved, sheets and a single flowerpot laying on a chest.

It would be better to let him sleep, Niki thinks. The room is kept cold, and Niki doesn’t want Dream to get sick, so she decides to drape the untouched sheets over Dream’s sleeping form. As she pulls up the blankets around the sleeping body, though, Dreams’ eyes flutter open, and his body tenses. He turns his head to watch her silently.

“I’ve cleaned up the glass, so the living room is good to be in again,” Niki offers. She pulls her hands away, crouching down so she doesn’t loom over Dream. “I was going to let you sleep; sorry for waking you.”

Dream shrugs, not really looking like he had been sleeping in the first place. He sits up, glancing at the sheets pooling around him. Dream glances around, scrubbing at his face and swinging his legs over the side of his bed. Despite Niki’s protests, he gets up and shuffles his way into the living room. His eyes fall on the now empty space on the table, sucking in a soft, shuddering breath. Niki comes to stand beside him.

“Hey,” she says. “It’s okay. I’m not angry, and they won’t be either, okay?”

Dream’s eyes flit from the table down to Niki. His body, slouched forward, leans a little closer to her as he nods silently. He looks back to the room, eyes squinting. He shoves his hands in his pockets and produces the pen and paper he’d kept on him; scribbling down, can you close the blinds? Niki smiles. She needs to encourage him to ask for things, too.

“Sure.”

Dream makes a home for himself on the couch. He eyes Niki’s book and they make idle chatter over it, Niki sitting across from him in the chair. They slide the notepad between each other on the table, both patiently waiting for the other to read or write before responding. Dream apologizes for the outburst. He said that he was feeling overwhelmed and hasn’t had to deal with something like that in a long time. The apology was accepted. Niki even manages to get a small laugh out of Dream, one that tugs gently on his throat and makes his chest stutter. It’s nice to see Dream’s smile, the way it cracks his face as he chuckles to himself. Somehow, it’s the most pride she’s felt in a while.

When Niki gets up to make herself some food, Dream takes her up on the offer to eat together. The list Techno left with what Dream could eat suddenly became very useful when preparing dinner. He doesn’t eat much and apologizes about it, for the hassle he must be causing, but it was what Niki was expecting anyway. Dream goes to sleep soon after that, pausing at his door and sending a quick, earnest thank you to Niki. She smiles.

“You’re welcome, Dream.”

Techno wasn’t mad, and neither was Phil. They seemed more focused on the fact that Dream actually ate a decently sized meal for the first time that week than anything else. Dream, who was hovering in the back, made sure to send Niki off with a little wave.

If she feels a little protective over him during the next Syndicate meeting, that was only her business. If she spoke in a hushed tone and kept an eye on him so he wouldn’t get into trouble, it was just general caution mixed with a bit of care. When she brought the loaves of bread with her on a visit, they were for Techno, Phil, and Dream, but she couldn’t deny the tiny bit of excitement that bloomed in her chest when Phil suggested Dream learn how to bake to help with tremors and outbursts.

If she let Dream into her stash or secret recipes for pies and bread, it stayed between them. Dream promised to keep them secret, and Niki didn’t doubt him. He smiled at her one day, growing nicely into the freckles that had started to speckle his skin, while his third batch of experimental dough was baking. Niki couldn’t help but smile back.

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