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millersdjarin · 1 year

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I Only See Daylight - 20

Chapter Twenty

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!AFAB!Reader

Rating: E (18+)

Warnings/Tags: smut, SUPER loving sex, skinny dipping, piv sex, tenderness, found family, mentions of scars/insecurity

Chapter Length: 8k

Previous Chapter | Series Masterlist & Info | Full Masterlist

notes: if you've seen any of my recent tumblr posts or updates on the fic tag, you'll know i've been having MAJOR tech problems, as well as various Life Problems too! hence why this took an ABSURD amount of time to update! i am SO sorry, i can only apologise and offer this new chapter that i hope was worth the insane wait. thankfully i have my laptop back and didn't lose any of the fic, so all is well again. (i'm still sick tho). anyway, enough from me - let's get to what you're here for! enjoy ♥︎

recap: reader and din are on the run from the cult that raised her, and they're escaping to D'Qar to hide out while they wait for the aid of boba fett, who is hoping to make a deal with the cult for reader's freedom.

and now i see daylight, i only see daylight

There’s nothing but green as you fly over the jungles of D’Qar. Despite living in forestland for years, it’s never lost on you—the beauty of it.

Din finds a tiny clearing to just about fit the ship in. It’s beneath the cover of a mountain, tucked away in a huge cove of rocks, rivers, and waterfalls. When you first see the space, you’re not sure he’s going to be able to manage it; it looks so small. But he knows the size of his ship, and he knows exactly how to manoeuvre it, so he lands just perfectly on the flat, rocky ground in the clearing.

It’s only a few hours until sunset, Din says, but you and the kid are excited to get out and have a look around. So as soon as everything’s secure, you lower the ramp, instantly hit with the warm, humid atmosphere of the jungle surrounding you. It’s somehow loud and quiet all at once; rushing water is close by and all kinds of wildlife are tweeting, chirping, croaking, whether in the trees or in the brush. The late evening sun is lowering, casting a golden-red glow through the tall, evergreen trees that surround you.

A river runs underneath the ship. It’s only small, probably shallow enough for even the kid to stand up in. But it’s running quickly and downhill, winding around damp rocks covered in moss. The waterfall feeds into the lake just ahead; this is probably one of the offshoots from it.

“You like it?” Din’s modulated voice says over your shoulder.

You turn to him, the kid in your arms. “We like it,” you confirm, smiling.

Grogu is leaning over towards the river, making grabbing motions at it. He seems fascinated by the running water. He probably also wants to look for fish and frogs to eat in it, too. You know him well.

“Not tonight, kiddo,” you tell him apologetically, straightening the collar of his robe. “We can explore some more tomorrow. We’ve been travelling a while, haven’t we?”

His ears turn down sadly. He looks at you, gives the Pleading Eyes.

As cute as he is, you’re not as much of a sucker as Din. (He’d never admit to it. Ever. But you know that he is, when it comes to Grogu.) You give him a little smile and a shake of your head. “Sorry, kid. Your dad and I are tired. We can explore all you like tomorrow, though; we’re here for a few days.”

Grogu looks to Din, like he’s asking for a second opinion.

He sighs, long-suffering. “Kid,” he says, so rueful it’s almost comical, “sorry, but I agree. I’m not gonna go against her word, you know that.”

Your heart swells.

Grogu looks significantly less pleased by Din’s words, though.

And, boy, does he let you know it.

You’d been hoping that maybe you and Din could have some alone time tonight. Really take your time, enjoy it, make each other feel like nothing bad in the Galaxy will ever touch any of you again. It’s what you both need right now.

But Grogu has other plans.

He refuses to settle.

In hindsight, it makes sense. You’ve been in hyperspace for days with no fresh air and no opportunity for him to use up some energy. And he’s been so good with sleep all this time, despite the fact that his days have been pretty dull and routine. Really, he was overdue a hyperactive night. He’s just a little kid, after all, and he’s done this a few times while you’ve been with them, especially since extended periods stuck in hyperspace have become a thing. He usually crashes and falls asleep where he stands by a few hours before the day cycle begins.

But, kriff. You’re so tired. You hadn’t realised just how much sleep has been helping you heal until it’s been six hours since the moons rose, it’s four until they set again, and you’re not just exhausted but starting to ache.

As you remove Grogu from one of the power line tunnels for the seventh time, you feel a soft hand sitting on your shoulder. Plopping Grogu back down on the floor, you look up to find Din beside you with a mug of something steaming in his hand. “You should get some sleep,” he says quietly, then takes Grogu in his arm and hands him the mug. You realise it’s his favourite: a malty, chocolate hot drink that Din always gives him when he’s scared, tired, or he can’t sleep.

Grogu takes it eagerly. He wiggles to get out of Din’s arms, so Din puts him down in his hammock and sits down beside him, resting his elbow on the top of Grogu’s cubbyhole.

“I’m fine,” you lie, suppressing a yawn.

“No, you’re not. Go to bed. He’ll settle soon.”

You look at him. At the tired tilt of his body, leaning against the little door. You can hear the tiny slurps of Grogu enjoying his drink. On nights like these, Din knows the exact right time to give Grogu his hot cocoa, timing it with the oncoming energy crash. It helps bring it sooner, when he does it right.

“Cyar’ika,” Din says softly, calling your attention back to him. You hadn’t even realised that your gaze had slipped away, your eyes blurring over with tiredness. “I mean it. Get some sleep. I’ll come and hold you soon, once he’s settled.”

You sigh. “Alright. But tomorrow, we’re taking him out there, and we’re tiring him the fuck out.”

A tired chuckle comes through the modulator. “Agreed.”

“I’m taking him swimming. He wanted to do that.”

“He’ll love that. Don’t talk about it too much, though, or he’ll think we’re going to do it right now.”

You chuckle, too, even though it hurts. Pushing yourself up from the floor with a groan, you then walk over to Din, and lean down to press a kiss to his helmet. “Call me if you need me, okay?”

He takes a hold of your hand and squeezes it. “Promise.”

You’re asleep as soon as your head hits the pillow.

You don’t know how much longer it is until you feel Din slide in behind you, still wearing his armour, gently wrapping his arm around your waist. “I’m here,” he whispers, quiet enough not to wake you if you were asleep, but loud enough that you’d hear it if you stirred.

Which you do. Just enough to shuffle back into him, take hold of his hand, and fall asleep again.

When the day comes, Grogu wakes with it.

Which you expected. But, still.

Din is already awake and taking him upstairs for breakfast. Tiredly, you follow them, and it’s only because you know him so well that you notice the way Din is standing differently. The way he only does when he’s exhausted.

“I’ll take Grogu out this morning,” you say to Din while he cooks up breakfast for all three of you. “You can catch up on some sleep.”

Din shakes his head. “I want to come.”

“You don’t have to. We won’t go far.”

“I want to come,” he says again, in that tone of voice that says Thank you, but I’m not going to change my mind.

Knowing this, you nod, and sit down at the table beside the kid. He looks bright-eyed and innocent, like he didn’t spend over half the night trying to tear the ship apart.

“Are you going to swim with us?” You ask Din, smiling teasingly.

“I think the beskar might weigh me down,” he replies, and you can hear the smirk in his voice.

“Who said anything about beskar?”

“You asking me to scar the kid for life by going in naked?”

“Fair point.”

“What are you going to swim in? And the kid?”

“I figure we can change his robe afterwards; this one needs cleaned anyway. And I’m going in my shirt and underwear.”

His helmet tilts towards you for a second, glancing at you. “I’m definitely coming.”

You giggle, and feign shock, “Get a hold of yourself. Not in front of the kid, Mando.”

Chuckling, he dishes up breakfast, and slides two plates across the table for you and Grogu. He takes his own plate, and tells you he’s going to eat in the cockpit. He’s still getting used to eating in front of you. Hell, he’s still getting used to having his helmet off in front of you, period, but he hasn’t eaten at all without it yet. You understand, and it doesn’t bother you. You’re just lucky to have any part of him at all.

The waterfall is just behind the trees a few metres along from the ship, pouring down over a sheer cliff face a ways up the mountain. Green vines and long tree branches hang over it, colourful flies dancing in the rainbow water spray before it hits the lake below. The lake is big, curving around the base of the mountain before it runs down over a rock and splits into little rivers. The water is clear but looks blue and green with the small pebbles and soft, mossy plants that coat the bed of it. It’s hot out here, but pleasantly so, the sun shining brightly in the late-morning blue sky.

Grogu is cooing excitedly in your arms. You’ve got a towel wrapped around your shoulders and a smaller one over one of your arms for him, along with a spare robe. Din follows closely behind.

You stop by the shore of the river, watching as Din lays out a blanket on the ground to sit on. As you turn to look at him, the sun glints brightly off his armour, the bright green of your surroundings reflecting in the beskar and making him look like he’s one with nature. Or, as close as someone covered in metal could look to being one with nature. Your heart swells with warmth as you’re reminded of the first few days you spent together; when so much of your mind was occupied with how he’d look in different lights, in different worlds.

It hits you, for a second, that you’re getting to see it. That you can not only admire the way he’s somehow never looked more silver, but also looks green and brown all at the same time; but also you can tell him how you feel. You can touch that armour, touch him.

The poor kid is trying to get a good look at the water, trying to get you to put him down. But you’re too transfixed by the sight of Din. By the fact that this is everything you ever wanted, since the first moment you heard his voice.

“Cyar’ika?” Din questions, stepping closer. “You okay?”

You snap back to the moment at hand. Finally you put the kid on the ground, and he runs towards the water in an instant. “Sorry,” you say, and glance back at the kid, ��Can he swim?”

Din shakes his head. “He won’t go deeper than he can handle. He likes to just splash.” He steps closer again, close enough to put his gloved hand on the underside of your elbow. “Where’d you go, in your head just now?”

Your hand finds his chest plate. You look down, see your reflection in it, the green trees behind you. A smile is on your face before you realise. “You’re beautiful,” you say instead of answering his question. When you look back up at his helmet, it’s tilted slightly, quizzically. “We’ve come a long way,” you whisper.

His thumb rubs over your arm. “I’ve loved every minute.”

Your heart lurches. If you could, you’d lean up and kiss him.

“Kid’s waiting,” Din says, nodding his head over your shoulder.

When you turn around, Grogu is standing in the very shallows, only an inch of water above the hem of his robe. He’s looking at you with a tilted head, his ears turned in a way that asks you a question. You chuckle at the sight of him. “I’m coming, kiddo. You wanna go swimming with me?”

Grinning, he jumps up and down on the spot and waves his hands around a little. Water splashes up around him.

You hear Din chuckle from behind you, then feel the towel start to slip from your clothed shoulders, his hands following in its wake, slowly rubbing down your arms. He hooks his helmet over your shoulder. “Go on,” he says lowly, “I’ll keep watch.”

You turn your head and press your nose into the hollow of his helmet’s cheek, then give him a sunny grin before you run towards the shore, towards the kid who’s looking increasingly excited.

Happiness is warm in your veins, like the sun in the sky, like the feeling of the water on your skin.

After a long swim and a hike around the surrounding hills and forest, the three of you are well and truly hungry. You’d let the warm air dry you out as you walked and picked berries and herbs for dinner, gathering them in Din’s satchel. Grogu started tiring an hour out from the ship, but you coaxed him along with promises of finding some nice insects for him to catch; which he did, and enjoyed every single one.

Now you’re back at the ship, and Din is cooking up some fresh meat with the herbs you picked, while you make a little fruit salad from all the fruit you found in the forest. The sun is setting, Grogu is watching his HoloNet show, and he’s looking very sleepy.

Dinner is what gets him truly ready to sleep. He’s snuggling into Mando’s thigh by the end of it, looking about ready to drop off right there and then and make it his bed for the night. With a soft chuckle, and a knowing glance towards you, Din lifts him up from the sofa and cradles him in his elbow.

“Night, kiddo,” you reach out and run your hand over Grogu’s cheek. His ear twitches in response, his left eye opening just enough to look at you. Din reaches out with his spare hand to tuck a lock of your hair behind your ear, then he turns, and heads down the ladder.

You follow after a minute, anticipation stirring low in your belly as you hope for the much-needed night alone with Din. Absently, you listen to the soft sounds of him putting the kid to bed. It doesn’t take long.

Before you know it, Din’s standing in the bed chamber doorway. “He’s out. Like a light.”

“Mission accomplished, then?”

Din nods. “He’s snoring, so we know he’s really asleep.”

You chuckle softly, letting your eyes roam over Din now that you know you have him to yourself. You reach out your hand towards him. “Come to bed?”

He takes your hand, but doesn’t climb into bed. Instead, he smoothes his thumb over your knuckles, and says, “I thought we could go for a swim.”

Oh.

You weren’t expecting that. Somehow, it’s better than what you were expecting, which you didn’t think was possible.

“Yeah?” You just about manage to say, your voice coming out as a squeak as anticipation spikes higher in your chest.

He nods. “It’s a nice night. Moons are out, kid’s asleep…”

You nod, too, and bite your bottom lip. “Din,” you whisper, “are you asking me to go moonlight skinny dipping?”

A lovely chuckle comes through the helmet. He steps closer, reaches out his other hand to brush it down your cheek. “Yes, Mesh’la, I am.”

“Well,” you push yourself up from the bed without another moment to waste, “don’t have to ask me twice. Will the kid be OK?”

“Like I said, he’s out of it. I’ve put a live commlink in there with him, just in case,” he fishes said commlink out of his pocket. Then, with a smirk in his voice, “It’s waterproof.”

Oh, he has planned-planned this. You could not be more thrilled.

It’s still so warm outside. The moons are full and bright, casting a white light over the entire jungle. It reflects on the lake, glimmering in ripples of water and illuminating the waterfall as if it’s made of light itself.

Din has taken off his armour, leaving him in just his flight suit and helmet. You’re wearing the shirt you wore to swim earlier and underwear beneath it. Din reaches for your hand as you pad towards the lake; you’ve never held hands while walking before, and it’s strange, but nice. Definitely unnecessary outside of a situation like this, but, still.

He stops by the shore, and you stop too. The waterfall is loud at the other side of the lake, but calming.

Then, Din starts to take his flight suit off. You’re too distracted by the slow reveal of his skin at first to realise that you should probably be getting undressed too. He just looks ethereal beneath the moons’ glow; it reflects from his helmet and makes his skin glow as he strips off his suit and lets it fall to the floor. He glances at you, knowing you’re watching, and when he pulls off his helmet there’s an amused smirk on his lovely lips.

“You’re looking at me like I’m a show,” he says, leaning down to place the helmet carefully on the grass.

You smile. “You are to me.”

He leans down and kisses you, just once, chaste. Like he can’t help it. Then he takes off his boxers, and he’s naked before you, glowing white in the daylight-like lights shining in the sky. Now you’re really distracted. If you thought naked Din was perfect all wet and tousled in the shower, this is something else entirely. He’s not even wet yet. You can’t wait for him to be wet.

As if reading your mind, he places a kiss on your forehead before whispering, “See you in there.” And he’s off, wading into the water.

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip while you watch him go. The muscles in his back shift as he walks so casually into the lake, brushing at the surface with his fingertips. They leave diagonal trails in the water, like skimming stones. His back is so broad, so muscular, all highlights and shadows in the light.

And his ass. Kriff, that’s the Ass of the Galaxy right there. Glowing under the moonlight, curved just right, muscles shifting with each push of his legs through the water. It’s a shame when he gets in deep enough that it covers him. He turns around when he’s waist-deep and raises an eyebrow.

“Are you coming?”

Probably in more ways than one, yes.

You quickly strip off, feeling self-conscious standing here on the shore in front of him, and wade over to meet him. The waterfall is close now, just on the other side of the lake, rushing down from the mountain. If you get any closer, you’ll probably feel tiny droplets of spray.

You reach your hand out as you approach Din, and he takes it with a soft smile. As you come to a stop in front of him, you look up into his eyes, and all the breath falls from your lungs. Somehow, looking at him like this overwhelms all the other senses in your body. The water is warm around you, and the lake floor is a strange combination of soft and rocky, some plants tickling at your toes. The air is a little humid but nice, comforting, something you’ve not felt before. And the sound of rushing water is all-consuming, covering all noises of the jungle wildlife and even the wild beating of your heart.

And he’s here, naked, his bare and damp skin on show before you.

But his eyes are what holds you. They are what make you feel weak in the knees, what make your fingertips tingle. Especially when he looks at you like that.

Like he knows you.

Like he loves you.

“You are so beautiful,” he says into the space between you, his voice somehow coming up clearer than anything, even above the noise.

You stroke your hand down his cheek, leaving a wet mark there. Then you move to his chest, running through the chest hairs, smiling when his skin rises into goosebumps. You wonder how many times it’s done that when you can’t see it; when it’s hidden behind his armour.

“You’re perfect,” you tell him.

It’s not really quiet enough to talk. Thankfully, you don’t need to.

He pulls you in by the waist and presses your bodies flush together, all warm and wet and bare here beneath the two moons. His arms wrap around your middle, and yours around his neck as you stand on your tiptoes to hook your head over his shoulder. Your hands are wet as they tangle in his hair, press against his shoulder blade, feeling his lips so hot and gorgeous against your neck. He mouths lazily at your skin. Doesn’t suck or bite or even really kiss; just touches you with his lips and his tongue, like he’s trying to take as much of you as possible, like he wants his breath to go into your skin and make you his on the inside, as much as leaving a mark on the outside would.

You let him. You let him, too, when he pulls away and takes your hand, leading you over to the waterfall.

Your eyes don’t leave him the entire time. They don’t need to; he’s guiding you, and you don’t need to watch where you’re going.

He stops in front of the rushing water and looks down at you expectantly, his hand still in yours. You raise an eyebrow in question, to which he responds, “We’re going under it.”

Your eyebrow raises, too. “I love to shower with you, but I think this shower’s flow might be a little too strong.”

He grins. His skin is shining with water spray, making him sparkle. “We just have to go under for a second, then we’re going behind it. Trust me, it’ll be worth it.”

Always trusting him, you nod, and follow when he tugs on your hand again.

The waterfall is pretty intense as you walk under it; you do it as fast as you can, worried at first that it might hurt you, but it doesn’t. It’d probably feel pretty good against your tired muscles, actually, if it weren’t for the still-healing wounds on your back. Din seems to enjoy it; he stands under the flow for a little longer than you, letting it run over his back and closing his eyes for a second. (You make a mental note to give him a massage one of these days. You don’t know how you haven’t thought about it before.)

Standing behind the waterfall, you’re in a strange sort of cave area, a metre or so in between the flow and the cliff face behind it. The rocks are shining, glistening in the moonlight that comes through the water. When you turn to look out where you came from, you’re amazed by the sight: the bright white of the moons is shining through the wall of water that encases you in this little haven, making each large droplet look like a light, a white flame rushing down towards the lake. It’s like a cascade of stars too dense to see each individual one before it falls.

When you look to Din, the light and shadow from it is dancing across his face. The water that you stand in is sparkling, too, casting a rippling reflection on the skin under his jaw. You’ve never seen anything like this before. It’s beautiful. He’s beautiful.

“You like it?” He asks you, his voice surprisingly loud as it echoes from the wall.

A smile stretches your lips. “I love it,” you tell him with a nod of your head. You reach out and hold him again, this time wrapping your arms around his neck and leaning up to kiss him, soft and sweet. “It’s like our own little hideaway.”

He trails his lips over your cheek, your jaw, down to your neck. His wet hands sit gently on your waist. As he kisses your bare shoulder, paying special attention to the curve of your clavicle, your hands run down over his pecs, fingertips catching on his hardened nipples. Yours are hard, too; you can feel them where they press against his chest.

You close your eyes as he starts to suck a mark at the place where your shoulder meets your neck. One hand runs down his chest, towards his belly button, the other back up into his hair. A pleasured breath releases from your mouth when his hands slide down your body, around to the small of your back and eventually landing on your ass, one hand on each cheek. He squeezes, just lightly. A soft gasp from you is rewarded with an even softer whimper from Din, breathed right into the crook of your neck as he continues to nip at your skin.

“Din,” you whisper, not the start of a sentence, but a statement. Because you’ll never get tired of saying his name. You tighten your hand in his hair, pull on it a little, earning another one of those lovely, soft moans. You feel it vibrating in your neck.

Then he’s moving down, his face coming to rest between your breasts. It feels colder without him pressed right against you, but he’s still close enough for you to touch him just the same, the hand on his tummy running back up through his chest hair, then down his arm.

You gasp as his mouth closes around one of your hard nipples. Your hand in his hair tightens in response, pulls him in even closer, urges him to do it again.

He does, and he sucks it into his mouth. The pull is fucking gorgeous. He’s never done this before; you don’t ever want him to stop. His mouth is so hot and wet, a contrast to the damp sheen on the rest of your skin that’s leaving you with a bit of a chill. You feel his tongue lapping at the underside of your nipple. The texture of it has just the right amount of roughness.

He moves to the other breast and continues his job there. You’re whimpering, barely even hearing yourself, just feeling your chest moving in his mouth as breaths escape your throat.

“Din, that’s…that’s so good…”

He hums his approval. When he pulls his mouth off you, you can just about hear the pop, and you definitely feel the string of spit that connects your skin to his mouth for a second. “If the water was shallow, I’d get my head between your legs, too, Mesh’la…” he breathes as his mouth finds yours again, not giving you a chance to say anything in response before he’s kissing you again, all open-mouthed and hot and breathy. You just moan, surprised and pleased. Your arms wrap all the way around his neck and pull him down into you.

He’s so warm. He’s so him.

His tongue is on yours in a second, pushing and pulling with each give and take of his lips. You let him guide you, pinning him to your face with a firm hand on the back of his neck. His arms are around your waist, holding the rolls of flesh in his palms. It feels so good. He feels so fucking good.

You want him to know that. You need him to know how much you love to look at him, to touch him, to feel him. The coolness of your skin as the night air dries droplets of spray is the most beautiful contrast to the heat of his hands, his mouth, his breath. It’s intoxicating and you will never get enough of this. If his body wasn’t so irresistible to touch, you’d pull back and just stare at him. All kriffing night.

Instead, though, you let your mouth fall from his in favour of trailing your lips across his jaw. They leave a wet trail in their wake. He doesn’t seem to care; in fact, his hands tighten against you when you start to suck at his neck. You use your teeth, pulling his skin into your mouth so hard that you hear it spluttering against the suction of your lips. You want to mark him, too; make sure his skin never forgets the way you feel.

“Cyare…” he groans as you move your face to his chest. Your nose nuzzles into the hair there, one of your hands sliding down to play with his nipple. You suck at the other one and he’s got one hand on your breast now, cupping it in his palm and squeezing with each pull of your mouth. He tips his head back and if you weren’t so occupied with getting his nipple as hard as it can possibly get, you’d lean up and kiss the expanse of that gorgeous neck and mark it up until there were no doubts that he’s yours.

By the time your lips are at his belly button, the water is starting to tease at your chin. You’d go lower if you could.

You tell him as much.

To which he responds with a desperate groan and a hand on the back of your head, bringing you back up to his face. “I need you,” he whimpers, pressing his nose into yours, “I need you, Mesh’la. Please.”

You stroke his face. “You have me. Any way you want me.”

A moan slips past his lips. He falls into you, kisses you slowly for a minute.

“You wanna take me against this rock wall?” You ask him, letting your nails run over the side of his neck, just hard enough to pull a gasp into his throat. “Or take me back to land, fuck me on the shore?”

“Kriff, Mesh’la,” he’s falling apart, his voice just a broken whimper as his hands find purchase on your ribs again and squeeze at the plump flesh. “Whatever you want. I’ll—do whatever you want.”

You smile softly. “As much as I’d love for you to take me here in the lake, the footing isn’t exactly stable, and you know I like it rough…”

Another moan. Good.

You press kisses to his neck, catch the fall of his Adam’s apple as he swallows heavily. “Let’s go back to shore.”

Desperate, he nods, and leads you under the waterfall. “You okay? Does it hurt?” He asks.

You shake your head and smile at him, always appreciating that your comfort comes first, even when he’s this desperate to fuck you. “No. I’m good.”

He practically throws himself onto the grass bank when you’re back on land, pulling you down on top of him. You can’t help but giggle at his eagerness. It’s so fucking cute and really kriffing hot that he wants you so badly he’ll just collapse on the riverbank, beneath the silver glow of two moons, completely bare for you and out in the open air, if it means you’ll give him what he wants.

Which you will. You always will.

You lean down over him, palms pressed to the grass on either side of his head. You’re both still wet, dripping into the ground below. Your breasts press into his chest, hair falls into his face. He pushes it out of the way and holds it there, like he doesn’t want anything getting in the way of his view of you.

“Kriff,” he curses softly. You can hear him better now you’re out of the waterfall; can hear the desperation in his voice, how even his breathing is starting to sound like a series of whines. “You’re so fucking beautiful. Look at you…”

“Look at you,” you counter with a smile, feeling your chest bloom with warmth at his compliment. “Under the moonlight like this. Kriff, Din. Don’t you look pretty?”

Breathy, he laughs. He closes his eyes for a second, shakes his head. “Don’t tease me.”

“I’m not. You do look pretty,” your fingers run through the sparse hair on his jawline. And then, it escapes you in a sigh, an expel of breath like it’s releasing some kind of something by saying it out loud, “Kriff, I love you.”

His eyes open at that. Right into yours, all glowing and watery and adoring. You could look at him like this forever. His hand strokes down your cheek. “I love you,” he tells you. Soft, shaky. Still just a hint of desperation there.

As much as you could look at him like this forever, and stay like this for just as long, there is a distinct throbbing between your legs and a wetness there that definitely did not come from the lake. You’re sure he can feel it; your core is pressed right up against his hips and you can feel his cock there, hard and wet and ready for you.

As if reading your mind, Din’s hand runs down your ribs, over the curve of your hips, then presses between your legs. He dips his fingers into your folds, separates them. “Kriff, you’re so wet already,” he says, gazing up at you as though he’s amazed by it. By you.

“You do things to me,” you tell him with a grin and a shrug, to which he laughs, tipping his head back for a second. You just watch him, warmth not only spreading between your legs but around your heart, too.

His lips kiss messily at your neck as he slips his finger inside you. It’s heavenly; a warm, slick glide of the one digit sending something hot and comforting all the way through you. Your eyes flutter closed when he slowly thrusts in and out. He’s not even trying to achieve anything; he’s just feeling you, appreciating every inch he can get his finger on.

“Din,” you say, already feeling breathless, “more. Please.”

He’s never turned you down. His thumb finds your clit, pushes back the hood and presses gently. Pleasure courses through you again, a jolt for each circle he makes around the bundle of nerves. His other finger joins the first after a moment, but you’re so kriffing ready for him that it’s not enough, you can feel his cock against the inside of your thigh and it’s so close but not close enough—

“Din, I’m ready for you. Are you ready?”

He meets your eyes. He’s looking up at you like you’re the stars in the sky. It sends a shiver down you that has nothing to do with the two fingers he’s pushing in and out of your soaking heat. He nods, then, and says, “Please. I need you. Need to be inside you.”

You nod, too, leaning down to give him a kiss. “Mind if I stay on top?”

“Whatever you want.”

“Mm. Are you gonna beg tonight?”

“If you want me to.”

“You could try it,” you say with a smirk as you slide down his body, lift yourself up on your knees above him, “See how I like it.” The ground is damp below you, grass tickling at your skin. You take his cock in your hand, and it’s still wet, but you can’t wait to make it properly wet.

Like it’s an instinct, he reaches out to take hold of your hips. He gazes up at you, and says, “Please, baby. I need to feel you.” He’s so vulnerable like this. Underneath you, naked, bathed in moonlight. He could, of course, overpower you—or anyone who got on top of him—if he wanted to. You never imagined The Mandalorian lying on his back like this for anyone; would never think that it was a place he could feel comfortable, safe. His whole life has been about fighting. About making sure he’s one step ahead.

And yet here he is, spread out before you, so open, bare underneath you, completely at your mercy. Because he wants to be. Because he trusts you.

You line him up at your entrance, but don’t slide onto him right away. You’re enjoying the desperation on his face just a little too much; the wrinkles in his forehead, his brows drawn together, bottom lip pressed under his teeth. With a grin you take a moment to admire in him in the moonlight and, with your hand wrapped around his cock, you slide him up and down through your wet folds.

The look on his face is priceless. His neck strains, he swallows so heavily you see the movement all the way through it, and a whimper comes from him, even better than the ones he’s given already.

“You look so pretty like this,” you tell him, still teasing him. You brush the head of him over your clit and, fuck,that feels good. His hot dick, already leaking and wet from your slick, rubbing over the bundle of nerves like his finger would, but different. Bigger. Rounder.

“That feel good?” Din asks, and it’s only when you hear the smirk in his voice that you realise your eyes have closed. You’re focusing on the feeling, the roundness of his head. Before you know it you’re grinding on it, desperate to feel more of it.

“Kriff,” you gasp, suddenly breathless, “that’s really fucking good.”

“Keep going, if you want.”

You could. You’d love to. The very fact that he’s offering this to you, knowing that it would only delay the part where he’s inside you and getting what he wants, turns you on even more.

But you know how desperate he is. And your heat is practically begging for him to be inside you.

“Feels good for me, too,” he tells you as if sensing your hesitation.

You smile at him. “Later,” you decide. “I want you inside me now.” With one last swipe of his head over your clit, you sigh, and then move your hips up so he’s lined up with your entrance again. Then, you sink down onto him, and kriff, it’s fucking delicious.

The stretch, his heat, the way his dick caresses your walls like they’re something precious as they pulse and throb around him.

He tips his head back and groans. His fingers tighten on your hips and you fucking love it. Love looking at him like this. Stretched-out, lit from the bright light of two moons, the jungle surrounding him and water still sheening over his chest.

You run your hands through his chest hair and sigh as heaven pulses through your core. “Feels so good,” you whisper, biting your lip, “Feels so good, Din.”

“Mm-hm,” he nods and looks back at you. “You’re so beautiful.”

Bracing yourself on his chest with your palms flat against him, you start to move. Instead of thrusting or bouncing, at first you just grind, swaying your hips in circular motions over his cock. It hits against that spot inside you with each circle, and somehow it feels like he’s going deeper than ever before, the tip of him a constant pressure against your cervix. It’s not rough like it usually is, and yet it feels just as good.

One of his hands finds your clit and works it in time with your movements. Heat is already burning inside you, starting between your legs and smouldering up into your stomach and ribcage. You’re losing yourself in your pleasure in an instant, your eyes falling shut as you work yourself on him.

Each grind lifts him in and out of you just a little, just enough for both of you to have some much-needed friction against your walls. But you’re still going round in circles, and it feels so fucking good, having him swirling inside you like this, coating every inch of you on the inside.

“Fuck,” you curse in a whisper, one hand lifting from his chest to grasp at your breast. You squeeze it, remembering how your nipple felt inside his mouth. “Fuck, Din, that’s so good.” Your eyes are closed again, head tipped back towards the sky.

“Yeah?” He says. “You look so perfect. Take what you need, Cyar’ika, you can have it.”

You’re too lost in pleasure to respond. It’s not even sparking, it’s burning, boiling, running over you in a hot wave over and over and over again. He’s so hot inside you, the contrast of his heat to the coolness of your skin just setting everything alight. The head of his cock is pushing against the highest point inside you, just like you like it, but instead of a fast, unrelenting beat, it’s stroking, so slow with each circle your hips make. His finger is still on your clit, so much slower than usual. In rhythm with your movements like he’s just going off of whatever makes you feel good.

“Kriff, Din, baby…your cock feels so good, I’ve never…it’s never been…”

“Feels good to me, too, baby,” he promises you.

When you open your eyes, he’s gazing up at you with such adoration, such universe-shattering perspective, that you could swear you see Galaxies in his eyes. Galaxies that you have yet to find, that you want to dive into and never leave.

“I love you,” you whisper, leaning down so that your damp hair falls around his face, frames him like the piece of art that he is.

His hand comes off of your hip and reaches out, stroking back a strand of hair. He rubs your cheek. His mouth is open and his breath is hot against your lips. “I love you,” he says back. His voice is raspy, low, so fucking perfect. “You look so good like this. Just using me to make yourself feel good. I’m so deep inside you, Cyar’ika, feels so good…just want to stay like this forever…”

You nod, desperate, and lean in to kiss him messily. “So deep,” you breathe into his mouth, “so fucking deep inside me, kriff, filling me up so good, Din, you just fit…”

His hand finds the back of your neck and holds you to him. The new angle brings the pleasure inside you to a new level; you’re leaning forward and down over him, and his cock is heavy, almost pulling at your walls as you continue to grind around and around and up and down. He’s pressing his thumb to your clit, his fingers closed around the flesh near your hip, holding tight. Holy kriff, it feels so fucking good, all hot and beautiful and just pleasurepleasurepleasure—

“Din,” you gasp, “gonna come…”

“Come for me, Mesh’la, please, I need it…need to feel you come around me like this, so good…”

Bracing yourself on his chest, you keep yourself at that lower angle and chase your pleasure, feeling it coiling low in your belly first but soon exploding through your entire body. It’s a flame, a roaring fire, a wave of lava through your veins.

“Ride it out, baby,” Din tells you, and you do, you ride him until the drop comes and you’re just chasing it, chasing that high, wanting it to last forever. Wanting to be here forever, in this moment, just the two of you. Beneath the moon. Din inside you, as deep as he’s ever been. So fucking good it’s like you’ve never felt it before.

“Oh, fuck, Din,” you pant as you come down, your aftershocks pulsing around his cock. You can’t even say that you came hard. Because it was the furthest thing to violence you’ve ever felt; it was soft but sudden and beautiful but terrifying. “Din, kriff, I love—I love you—”

His hips are starting to stutter. Like they want to thrust, but he’s holding himself back.

You plant your elbows on either side of his head and lean down to kiss him. “Come in me,” you tell him, “please. Use me, fuck me. You made me feel so good, want you to feel the same too.”

He strokes your cheek with his thumb. “You sure? You’re not too sensitive?”

You shake your head. “Feels so good still. Please, wanna feel you, baby.”

He nods, and starts to move. He shifts so his feet are planted firmly on the ground behind you, knees bent a little and pressing into your back. The hand on your clit moves and instead sits behind him on the floor so he can sit up and use it to prop himself there. Your body follows him, leaning back as he leans up. His breath is so hot on your face, your hair falling against his damp cheeks.

You push it away, kiss his mouth. “Fuck me, baby,” you tell him, “feels so good.”

Using his hand and both feet for leverage, he starts to thrust. Slow at first, testing the waters. His face falls in ecstasy, a broken moan leaving his lips and falling onto yours. You hold his face in both your hands, anchor him to you.

“That’s it,” you praise, “fuck me just how you want. Come for me, Din, I wanna feel you. You’re so perfect, I love you…” it feels like it’s going to be hard to ever stop saying that.

“I love you, Mesh’la,” he says, and it’s the last coherent thing he manages before he starts to thrust harder into you, finding a good rhythm. It’s not as rough as it’s been before—it would be pretty hard, in this position and out here on the wet grass—but it’s just perfect. He still hits the highest point inside of you, even guides your hips to do the circle thing again, like he knows that’s what feels good for you.

It does. Kriff, it’s just as good as it was before. The aftershocks are already turning into new desire, heat bubbling low again. You bring one of your hands from his face and press on your clit. Fuck, fuck, fuck, it’s so good.

It takes you by surprise. You gasp, pulling your head back and tipping it, granting him access to your neck; access that he makes full use of, immediately leaning in and attaching his mouth to your skin.

“Oh, fuck, Din,” you almost laugh at the feeling because it’s so unbelievably good and you’re probably going to come again and it’s so soon after the last one and you weren’t expecting it—“Fuck! Din! Baby, feels so fucking good like this…” your tits bounce against his chest, almost pressed completely into him.

He’s mouthing at your neck and his thrusts are getting faster, more urgent. “Baby…I think I’m going to…”

“Come for me,” you request to the stars. “Please, Din, come inside my pussy.”

That does it for him.

He spills inside you, his chest heaving with desperate whimpers and moans and breaths that sound like something from a different realm, panted into your neck and against your shoulder—

Then you’re coming, too, clenching around him so hard that it almost hurts. Your thighs are burning from holding yourself up, the pleasure coursing through you only adding to the strain in your muscles. But it feels so fucking good. He feels so good, chasing his orgasm for as long as he can, fucking up into you as if it’s what he was put in this Galaxy to do.

“Oh, baby…” Din says as he starts to come down. He’s kissing your neck again, all wet and messy and lazy. His hands slide up your body. Caress you like you’re something precious, a map he wishes to memorise. Eventually they settle on your back, his palms pressing into your shoulder blades.

You realise, then, that this is the first time he’s seen you while you’ve done this. Seen all of you. Nothing separating his eyes from your scars, your stretch marks, every insecurity you’ve ever had.

It feels earth-shattering and unimportant at the same time. Because it’s a big step, it’s huge, something you never thought you’d have with anyone, ever. But it’s also…right. Din isn’t looking at you or holding you any differently. He sees more of you than just that, and it doesn’t matter.

You’re breathless at the realisation. Even more so, when you realise that it actually feels really fucking good to be naked with him like this. To have nothing separating you.

Your lips meet after a moment. He kisses you so softly, so tenderly. Your hands tangle in his hair, feeling the lingering wet from the waterfall. You think about saying something, about telling him how good that was, about how much you love having him like this; you think about saying I love you one more time, just for good measure.

But the words won’t come. Instead, you just press your forehead to his, let your breaths mingle in the humid air between you. You’re both still panting. His cock is twitching inside you, probably a little overstimulated as your walls continue to pulse and beckon him further in. But he never pulls out too soon. Even if it’s too much for him.

He holds you like that, staying inside you beneath the moons, the sound of rushing water and wildlife all around you. He holds you like he knows. Like he knows how you feel, and wants you to know that he feels the same, too.

If you could, you’d stay like this forever. And yet, even a moment will do.

notes: ahhhh i'm so sorry for the long wait.

i can't believe we've only got 2 chapters left. the last 2 are some of my favourites so i'm excited for y'all to read them! thank you for being here as always, i know it's been such a long time. please do leave a comment if you can, and reblogs are always appreciated <3 love u <3

taglist:

@toobsessedsstuff @granillx @keepingitlokiii @shoe1412 @quentinor @yourunstablegf @moonknight-s-cumdump @senassn @samanthacookieone @local-fanfic-addict @your-slutty-gf @whenpugzfly @elsasshole @moony-toasts @julesjewelss36 @mxlsmith @indec1sive @lordhavemurthy

@booktvmoviefangirl @brokenghostgirl1@competitivedust@lostinsideourminds@gloryekaterina@uncle-eggy@astronymity@leithatnight@domaniquessidehoe@dancealongthelightofday-blog@loveslide@peqchsoup@jaguarthecat@starrynightsforever@djarinxore@rexamongthestars@babygirlrex0504@dindjarindude@prentissluvr@hotchie360@beskarandblasters@space-cowboy-like-me

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin imagine #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian imagine #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #my post #i only see daylight #gif cw

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peony-pearl · 2 months

Text

@khoc-week - Journal

I decided to do a little snippet section of what Nimue's journal could look like; it doesn't track the induction of every team member, but mostly some important emotional and plot beats for Nimue (without being too long or spoilery XD)

Day 1: I have decided to chronicle my journey after finding quite a handsome book in a marketplace located somewhere known as Twilight Town. For a world that seems so established, I have never heard of it. I must be very far from home, which feels stranger than having been stuck in the Realm of Darkness.

If my companion, Merlock, is to be trusted, then Yen Sid has become a man of old age, meaning many years have passed while I was locked away. It has been a week since I returned to the Realm of Light and each day my desire to see him cowering and curled at my feet only becomes stronger. I will rid the realm of his cowardice and falsehoods, and I will have peace.

Day 23: It seems Chaos doesn't intend on giving us much space. He has followed us from world to world, even through Merlock's use of dark portals. But he doesn't seem to want to turn us over to Maleficent. He is like a buzzing fly, but I have seen what he is capable of. If we are to be followed around by a godling, I suppose I'd rather it be one that enjoys our company. Merlock isn't too enthusiastic about his presence, but I think I managed to convince him how this could work in our favor. He's a stick in the mud, but he does see how being on the good side of such a creature would be beneficial to us.

Day 30: We were so close. We found his tower! We found his tower and we managed to corner Yen Sid like the vermin he is! But he has allies we weren't prepared for. Fairies, three of them, and a small group of young warriors at his disposal. In the ruckus, a girl tried to stop me with no weapon, no magic; she rushed over to me and grabbed my hands and the hilt of my keyblade in an effort to subdue me. Such a brave little maiden! I didn't have the heart to toss her across the room; unfortunately Merlock doesn't have the heart I have, and he did toss her rather unceremoniously onto her lover boy, a young soldier who serves a 'King Mickey'.

In the middle of the fight, Yen Sid and the Fairies that serve him relocated us to a different world before we could stop him. I don't remember much after that, except for Merlock stopping me from blindly swinging my keyblade, and I had screamed so loud I have now lost my voice. Merlock now insists I drink an herbal concoction to soothe my throat; he won't leave until I drink it. Perhaps he does have a heart.

Day 50: We have a new attendee in the ranks. A girl named Mint attempted to rob Owen as he wandered through the crowds in Corona. He handled her rather swiftly, although once she caught sight of Chaos, she became much more agreeable. She has apparently lost her title of crown princess as of recently, and is looking for something called a Relic to win back her status against her sister. When she learned of our goal, she became enamored with the thought of gaining some powerful magic; and thus we are now a party of five. (Six if you count Puck, but he is Owen... or is Owen Puck? I am still figuring that one out)

Day 62: The days are feeling shorter; it is rather an odd thing. When I was first released, the hours dragged by as I wanted nothing more than to make my way to Yen Sid's tower. To feel my claws tear at him and hear him beg for mercy. But now I can barely keep track of the time. I often find myself in Merlock's presence, hearing his tales of his travels and attempted conquests. He's a talented shapeshifter, and the talisman Maleficent gave him has tremendous magic. I told him I'll bet he's the best sorcerer I've met and he laughed, remarking how I'm saying that out of spite for the man we intend to rob. I laughed hard for the first time in so so long. I didn't want that moment to end, and yet there was nothing incredibly special about it; but I will always remember that sunset.

Day 70: Owen discovered our newest addition today: A sorcerer locked in a rather fantastic mirror who goes by the name of Magnifico. He is an odd fellow. It seems isolation was not very kind to him.

He spoke of a land called Rosas... it has been abandoned since I was a girl. I don't think anyone has lived there since my grandparents' time. Seeing him try to come to terms with this was more painful than I'd like to admit, and thus I offered him a place with us. He seemed reluctant at first, but overall he had little other choice, and he accepted our conditions, and is very enthusiastic about our goals, as it will benefit him greatly.

Day 100: I have come to find out that the girl who tried to stop me from obliterating Yen Sid some weeks ago is named Roxanne, and in putting her hand on my keyblade, it has unlocked her own powers. I saw her put herself in my way today, clumsily wielding her key. She was so determined, though, it was incredibly charming. I yanked the blade from her quicker than she could react. Whoever is training her is giving her quite poor advice, but she has a strong light. Harle managed to push the poor girl through a dark portal and I decided to be a good sport and at least toss her keyblade in after her.

Day 111: I have been humbled today. Our newest member is a scientist named Hollander. A man who allowed himself to be his own experimental model on the darkness; his work mirrors that of mine many years ago, the work Yen Sid destroyed.

He is slowly succumbing to a power he has taken years to control. His body has become twisted and gnarled with dark powers flowing through him. One day, if we don't find a way to reverse his situation, he will become a heartless, and he isn't sure if there will be enough of his true body left to create a Nobody.

Day 130: It is hard to believe how much time has passed since I have been released. My days seem so bright - so much like my days in Felicity.

I look to my team as they rest after a long day. As they talk, and laugh.

I feel nostalgic for days I have lost; days I will never have again.

How can so much joy bring so much pain?

Day 150: I saw it in his eyes; a feeling I wasn't prepared to feel such happiness surge through me again.

I spoke with Merlock, about how we had demolished a rather large heartless Maleficent had put in our path with ease; about plans; about the team, about how we would face glory soon and revel in the spoils of taking Yen Sid's magic.

His excited laughter met mine, and as I felt so jovial, I remembered him.

I remembered Yen Sid, looking at me with those eyes. I thought of old talks of old friends and confidants and those we fought together with.

I became withdrawn, and quickly excused myself for bed, pretending an old injury was acting up. He didn't seem too concerned, which consoled me. I passed by the team, who all had something to say as I retired; but each time I tried to respond in full, my heart felt too tight.

I can't do it again. I can't become attached.

I've finally made my decision, despite how much it hurts; it will only hurt worst if I let it go any further.

When Yen Sid is defeated and I have ensured Merlock's inheritance of his magics -

I will disappear from this world once more, and return to the embrace of the Realm of Darkness, where neither time nor light can hurt me again.

#kingdom hearts oc #Nimue #my writing

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umeumeumee · 1 year

Text

sunset

ahsoka tano x fem! reader

ahsoka sat atop the jedi temple. Her blue eyes watching as the speeders fly, the children talk, thinking as the sun began to set.

her thoughts were never quite a complication, not until recently.

not until you became her thoughts.

it was strange, the feeling that consumed her when you are near. a fast beating in her chest, a flush that swallows her cheeks, the sweat that coats her hands. It was all new, strange— she thought perhaps she was sick, which lead her to decide to pay visit to the medical center, seeking aid in her internal battles earlier in the day.

She was told she was completely healthy, nothing wrong at all. that was wrong though. It had to be, ahsoka thought she was sick. the symptoms she has are nothing like she has felt before. Perhaps it was a new disease?

upon those thoughts, ahsoka had decided to console her master.

“Master,” ahsoka called out, watching as his head quickly turned to her.

“Hey snips. what’s up?” he asked, his usually teasing smile on his lips. Ahsoka approached him, a newfound nervousness flowing through her.

“i wanted to talk with you,” ahsoka glanced behind anakin to the clones that stand, waiting for their next command. “Alone.”

Anakin’s smile faltered for a second, soon followed with a nod, excusing the clones.

“what’s wrong, ahsoka? are you okay?” he asked her, his voice laced with concern. yet, she knew that he knew she was truly okay.

Ahsoka inhaled, fiddling with her fingers.

“Master, I think i’m sick.”

upon those words, he laughed a little. “Sick? with what?”

she sighed at his antics. “I’m not sure. I think it’s a new disease, i went to the medical center and the nurse said i was healthy, but I know i’m sick.”

Anakin looked at her, and she looked away. “what are your symptoms?” he questioned, his brow raised.

“i— it’s weird, Master. There’s so many. my heart starts to beat fast, very, very fast. My face gets warm, my hands start to sweat— but only when I’m with.. someone i know. someone in particular. it’s bad, master. Am i dying?”

Ahsoka looked up to Anakins blown eyes, his jaw agape.

“what..?”

“i… think you’re in love, Snips.”

Those words have been playing inside of Ahsokas head since the morning.

In love? Ahsoka? with who?

Yes, it did only happen when you were with her— but you two have never been alone. Perhaps it was someone.. next to you both? who is she kidding, she knows the truth.

she groans into her hands, the silence becoming a bothersome feature due to her thoughts.

“it’s getting late.”

Your voice says from behind her; a shiver is thrown up her spine as she whipped her head towards you.

you never failed to surprise her with your beauty. You hair in its signature braids that bring out every feature of your face.

“I.. guess so.” Ahsoka says, eyes dropping to your feet as they begin to move towards her.

she turns her head away from you, and doesn’t look to her right as you take a seat beside her.

“why are you out here so late?”

“i don’t know.”

“I’m sure you know a little”. you laugh, glancing to her; her brows furrowed, lips pursed, jaw clenched and shoulders tight. you shuffled, facing towards her.

“Ahsoka,” Maker, the way you said her name always had a curse on her.

“what’s bothering you?”

she sigh, shoving her face into her arms that rest on her raised knees.

“Something my Master said to me.”

you scoot closer to her, so close ahsoka and smell your scent.

“what did he say? was it about a mission?”

“No, no.. he said something about relationships, and feelings and..” ahsoka couldn’t dare bring herself to continue to the last word. she was too afraid.

“hm.. i don’t know what master Anakin completely said to you, Ahsoka, but perhaps it has something to do with how you’ve been acting lately.”

Ahsoka looks up at you, eyes wide. “what? what do you mean?”

“you’ve been… different. These past few weeks. I didn’t say anything because i didn’t know what was happening and I did not want to push it out of you. does what Master Anakin said have to do with that perhaps?”

Ahsoka takes in your words, along with her masters.

“I understand what you feel, Ahsoka. But remember, purpose before feeling. No matter how deep.”

ahsoka looked away from you.

“He said.. i was ‘in love’.”

Your mouth fell agape and your eyes blew open— ahsoka was in love?

Something at the bottom of your stomach twisted in a way you’ve never felt, but another part of you was awfully curious.

“oh... do you know with whom?”

silence followed before ahsoka stole a glance at you.

“yes. I do.”

You let a small grin fall on you lips, fighting back a tease.

“well? is he cute?” you ask, completely turning away from the almost set sun and facing your friend.

she says nothing, and you trace her side profile with your eyes.

“My master said purpose over feelings, always. Its… not appropriate to discuss.”

you put a hand on her shoulder, feeling as she stiffens lightly. your heart sinks.

“Ahsoka, i understand what master skywalker said— but you are young. We both are. the Jedi way is very important, yes, but so are your feelings. You cannot shove them down like a drink, You must face them bravely as you do your enemies.” you sympathetic say, giving her shoulder a soft squeeze of reassurance.

“My master says she can feel too deeply sometimes, and that it can blur her feelings and decisions. I think that your master doesn’t want you to be clouded when it comes to your choices— clouded by emotions, especially love, because it is the strongest of its kind.”

she looked at you, a glint in her eyes you’ve never seen before.

your hand slides down her arm, wrapping your hands in hers, squeezing tightly.

your eyes travel from her side profile, to the nearly set sun, and the out coming moon.

“I.. don’t want to be in love. i— didn’t ask for this feeling.” Ahsoka says, her eyes looking downward; to the city of coruscant.

“No one does, Ahsoka. its a not a choice, it’s almost as curse— but, at the same time, it’s a blessing. a beautiful, warm, wonderful blessing.” you comfort, your own heart beating lightly at the thought of the girl beside you, but cracking at the thought of the lucky someone who had stolen her heart.

Ahsoka was scared, to say the least. She was in love with you, she had come to realize upon this evening, with your words, your voice; your hand in hers. It wasn’t someone beside you, it wasn’t someone beside her— it was you. she loved you.

she said nothing, continuing to stare below, and you let her continue in her silence.

You barely recall when you realized you were in love with Ahsoka, you had just woken up one day, doing your simple, daily activities and exercises, and met with Ashoka. except, this time was different, deeper— more… emotional. you realized you loved her when she made a joke while you cried.

“i.. think i’m in love with you, Y/n.” ahsoka whispered, and if you hadn’t scooted closer earlier, you wouldn’t have heard her words.

a wave of relief washed over you, yet the same as fear and excitement. your heart began to scream, cheeks becoming as red as meiloorun melons.

You slowly turned to look at her, her head facing away from you.

the hand of yours that wasn’t connected to hers already, made its way to her Montrals, striding your fingers down it slowly before you gently grabbed her cheek, turning her face to look at yours.

“oh, ahsoka. I love you, too.”

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peachesofteal · 2 years

Text

Beltane

A Witchling world one shot.

Morpheus/reader Witchling masterlist – AO3 3.8k words Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, brief descriptions of sex, angst, sad feelings, cigar smoking, discussions of death and dying. Notes: Beltane is the modernized/bastardized/whateverized version of Bealtaine but for ease of understanding purposes I just wrote it as Beltane. Your grief threatens to extinguish your glow, and a new tradition is born in The Dreaming.

The sun was always shining here. Bright and cheery, it filtered through the cottage’s windows, beaming down onto your face every day it rose. Obnoxious. This morning was no different, and you buried your face down in your pillow to try to escape the blinding rays. Maybe if you closed your eyes, you could go back to sleep. You grumbled aloud, cursing the cottage for its stubbornness that has put you in this predicament. No matter what you tried, The Dreaming would not allow you to conjure black out curtains for your room. Let you have a king size bed? Sure. Conjure a whole, freshly tilled garden out back and seeds so you could start planting? Go for it. But black out curtains so you can sleep in? Guess not.

You shove your head back into the pillow when you hear the tapping at the glass, Matthew’s tell-tale knock forcing you up with a sigh.

“Are you working in the library today?” he asks as he settles on the kitchen table, his usual spot for his morning treat. Matthew has been reaping the benefits of having a recently deceased person living in The Dreaming. You baked, often. You made muffins, cookies, scones, anything and everything, passing the goods out to residents of The Dreaming or leaving them in the library for Lucienne and others. Matthew always got first dibs, flying down to the little cottage past Fiddler’s Green almost everything morning to say hi and get his snack.

“I am.” You put a blueberry scone on a plate in front of him, and he makes a pleased trilling sound in his beak.

“Lord Morpheus is in a foul mood.” He advises you, but you shrug. It won’t affect you. Morpheus avoids you like the plague. You tried not to take it too personally, he was a King after all, with an entire realm to look after and care for. You would sometimes probe Lucienne or Matthew about his whereabouts and they would always look at you as if you had grown three heads.

“Lord Morpheus is incredibly busy with the care of The Dreaming.”

“The boss isn’t really one for social visits.”

You had only seen him a handful of times since you came here. He would stop in the library on the days you were working, inquiring about how you were and if you were in need of anything. Sometimes, he would linger after you assured him you were okay, his voice changing from the sharp edge of a monarch to something softer as he asked you if you were ‘settling in alright’. His aloofness confused you, and it was a far cry from the level of intimacy you shared before your death. You were surprised to realize that you missed that level of affection from him, your mind sometimes wandering to the memory of him fucking you open, or his mouth lavishing your clit on the throne, his face covered in your orgasm. Let me taste your light.

You sigh. Sadly, the only thing he seemed to be interested in lately was if you were ‘well’ and settling in.

You supposed you were adjusting okay. It’s been months since you died and woke up in a bed with an anxious, starry eyed Morpheus hovering over you, holding you hand. Your fingers find the black pearl strung around your neck as you remember the hushed conversation you had, your grip on his unyielding as he assuaged your fears.

“So, am I like, a ghost or something?” “No.” He strokes a soft pattern on your skin, eyes searching yours. “Am I a dream?” his lips quirk, one corner lifting slightly into a small smile. “No, witchling. You are no dream.” “But I’m dead?”

“Your mortal life has ended. The pearl you wear keeps your mind, body and spirit preserved so that you may exist in The Dreaming, for however long you choose.”

You did choose. You were not ready to seek whatever lay beyond the end of life; that you knew for certain. Instead of going to what he called the Sunless Lands, his sister’s realm, you decided to stay in The Dreaming.

“And my magic?” “Your magic remains intact; however, it is a part of The Dreaming now, just as you are. You will find it different than you remember.”

It was different. Vastly so. You were surprisingly more powerful, your magic bending and weaving within the frame of the realm, your ability to call upon it eased, the confines of your mortal body no longer a barrier between you and your power. It was intoxicating. You hadn’t expected to retain your magic, let alone have this much unfettered access.

He trusts you. You concluded with a startling revelation one day as you bent The Dreaming so you could conjure a claw foot tub in the cottage. He could easily stop you from using magic in his realm with the snap of his fingers. But he doesn’t. The knowledge settled in your heart with a light thump, the idea that Morpheus held such confidence in you warming your cheeks with pride.

Matthew caws, snapping you out of your memory with a jump and you give him an apologetic smile as you get up to pour yourself more coffee.

“I’m sorry to hear he’s in a pissy mood. I know that probably makes your day hell.” Matthew’s head bobs, his version of a shrug.

“He’s been worse. At least it’s not raining.” You sigh. You wouldn’t hate a little rain right now. You keep having to conjure giant buckets of water to care for your garden. “And it’s about to be summer in the Waking World, which has been nice. It’s not frigid cold every time I have to go there.” You freeze. About to be summer.

“Do you know the date?” you ask mildly, the reflection in your coffee staring up at you. “I think it’s April 27th.” A pang of sadness so strong comes out of left field and nearly knocks you senseless. You can practically hear the echo of your mother and her sisters in the cottage, their weeklong preps for Beltane bringing them together every year under one roof, your grandmother micromanaging them while she forced you to sit and listen to her recount years of tradition. Cétshamhain is your history, child. You’d be wise to listen to it’s lessons. You can feel the smart of tears in your eyes as you close them. Would you have seen them? In the Sunless lands? Did you give up an opportunity to be reunited with your family? Would you just have gone straight to hell? Would they be so pissed at you over the grimoire? You think about everything probably going on at home, the community preparing for the festival, boughs of yellow flowers lining doors and windows. You didn’t have many friends when you were alive, but you were known, and always welcomed on Beltane. Longing thrums in your chest, the feeling so vibrant that it has tears falling down your cheeks before you can get a handle on yourself. Matthew caws, alarmed.

“Hey, you okay?” you shake it off, forcing the wistfulness from your limbs as if you’re stretching out sore muscles.

“Yeah. Fine, just got distracted. Sorry.” You pop the last of your scone in your mouth and pack up the leftovers for Lucienne. “We should probably get going.”

A dark cloud of hangs over your head the rest of the day. You tuck yourself into a corner with the stack of miscellaneous books Lucienne handed to you, taking your time finding where they belong. Your mind is stuck, trapped in an endless loop of thoughts of your family, the festival, your own death. Did you make a mistake? Did you sacrifice an eternity of being with your family to stay here? Would this ever feel like home? Your hand grips the pearl around your neck tightly.

“Excuse me?” you jump, startled by the small voice of a dream. A wraith like girl stands a few feet from you, her body translucent like a ghost. You recognize her right away; you’ve seen her many times in The Dreaming. She’s visited your cottage with Cain and Abel in tow. You think you’d consider her a friend, even. You relax at the sight of her face, and she gives you an apologetic smile. “Lucienne mentioned that you might be able to help me find a book?” She gives you the name of the dreamer she is researching, and you motion for her to follow you.

“Of course.” You locate the volume in question quickly and go to pull it from where it sits on the shelf when she speaks again.

“Are you alright?” Your fingers dig into the leather-bound spine, and your force breath in and out through your nose.

“Yes.” The false cheer in your voice is flimsy at best, and she gives you an odd look. “Did you need anything else?”

“No, this is it. Thank you.” her smile is genuine as she bids you goodbye. “It was good to see you.” she adds over her shoulder, and you return the sentiment. You drag yourself off to settle back into a corner, this time making sure you couldn’t be found.

You puff the cigar slowly, the cherry and wood flavor of the smoke warming your mouth as you attempt to blow circles from your lips. You had finished up late today, the sun already set by the time you left, and you stumbled upon Merv smoking under a stone archway. Just your luck. You had always liked the taste of a cigar.

“Like this, kid.” You passed it back and he demonstrated, earning him a laugh as you watched smoke rings disappear into the night sky.

“Okay, okay. Let me try.” You’re just about to take a pull when the swing of a familiar black coat in the dark catches your eye, and your spine immediately straightens. Merv clears his throat with a cough.

“Er, hey Boss.” Merv says. Your eyes look down to your feet, fingers still clutching the lit cigar.

“Mervyn. There is an issue in the library that requires your attention.” Merv stands with a huff, and you hand the cigar back to him with a slight grimace. He grumbles under his breath as he stalks off.

“Hello.” Morpheus stands stiffly before where you’re sitting, his shoulders high and tight, teeth gnashed together tensely. You chew on the inside of your cheek, the tingling in your nose nearly making your eyes water with the need to sneeze. What’s his deal?

“Hi.”

“May I sit?”

“It’s your realm.” Your voice is bitter and rough. He ignores it.

“How are you faring?” you beat back the urge to roll your eyes.

“I’m good.”

“Are you?” You tilt your head in confusion. “You have become a beloved figure in The Dreaming, witchling. The residents are eager to voice their concerns when they fear something may be wrong with their dear friend.” Gossip. He means the residents have been gossiping about you and your terrible mood. Conflict roars in your ears as guilt wars with your sadness. You regret being so short with the wraith from earlier, you hope you haven’t hurt her feelings.

“I’m fine. Just going through some stuff.” You’re not particularly eager to share how you feel with him. He’s been practically a stranger for months, and now he wants to know how you’re faring?

“Stuff.” The word sounds foreign as it falls from his mouth. He studies your face for a moment before his head snaps in the other direction, eyes focusing on something far off in the distance, and he stands in a hurry. “I apologize, I must attend-“ you wave your hand.

“Go. It’s not like I’m going anywhere.” You chuckle drily. Something dark flashes across his features before he’s evaporating in a cloud of shadow and you’re alone again.

The next morning, you are returning from a walk with the wisps when your nose starts to tingle. The sensation jerks your head up, eyes scanning in every direction for the Endless that you know must be somewhere close by. When you step out of the woods and into the clearing where the cottage sits, you’re surprised to see him standing on the porch, waiting for you.

“Are you well?” he asks as you rest a foot on the bottom step, looking up at him. Something is different. He looks, almost nervous?

“I am. Are you?” you answer quickly, unsure what to do with him lingering so awkwardly on the porch.

“I am.”

“That’s good.” You glance around as the tips of your ears burn. “Do you uh, wanna come inside?”

“Yes.” You gulp nervously as you gesture for him to step forward, your legs a little shaky as you follow him through the door. It occurs to you that he hasn’t been here since you’ve… upgraded the cottage, so to speak. What if he hates it? What if he doesn’t approve? The cottage is his, it’s a part of his realm. What if he doesn’t want you to change it? You glance around in a panic before closing your eyes to steel your nerves.

“You have made changes.” Your throat tightens as you wring your hands together and nod.

“Yup. Ah, just a few. To kind of modernize it. And I wanted a bathtub.” You rush to explain. He nods thoughtfully.

“I am pleased you are making it your home.” The celestial sparks that are his eyes met yours, and your skin ripples with goosebumps. Is it hot in here? His expression grows somber. “I regret that I have not been able to spend more time with you, witchling. It occurs to me that you may be suffering.”

“What? No, I’m not suffering.”

“It is natural to mourn. You have lost your mortal life.” You don’t understand how he knows, but he does. The pulse of sadness beats under your skin. “I wish to ask you if you would spend the evening with me, tomorrow.” You peer up at him slack jawed. Your heart takes off at a gallop, excited, before it comes crashing to a stop. He feels bad for you.

“Do you pity me, Morpheus?” your tone is flat.

“No, but I have neglected you. You have been hurting and I… have not been here. I would like to remedy my mistake.” You purse your lips, and shrug. Be cool, be cool. Don’t squeal.

“Okay. Sure.” He smiles at you, one of his small ones, the kind that only lifts the corners of his eyes slightly, but it still melts you to your core.

He does not linger after your agreement, departing quickly to attend something in the realm. As he goes, he brings your knuckles to his lips like he did that day you woke up here, the feeling of his touch soothing and igniting something inside your heart.

You spend your day in the library, performing your usual tasks for Lucienne. Oddly, there are less today than there ever are, but you don’t question it as you’re grateful it means you’ll be able to slip out earlier.

There’s a note scrawled on brittle paper sitting on your kitchen table when you finally make it back to your cottage.

Please accompany Matthew to Fiddler’s Green at sunset. I will join you later.

“Matthew?” you call out. A little caw sounds from your loveseat.

“Right here.”

“What’s going on in Fiddler’s Green?” you’re perplexed. What is happening?

“It’s a surprise.” Matthew says and you immediately become nervous. You hate surprises. You bitch about it as you change, fussing with yourself in the mirror while Matthew tries to assure you that this is a good surprise, and that you’ll like it. You’re still putting up a fight about as you both leave the cottage, the wisps lighting the way in the dusk of the setting sun.

When you crest the hill that looks down on the valley of Fiddler’s your breath catches in your throat. Your feet become immobile, and you stand quietly in shock, trying to register what is happening.

“What is this?” You turn to Matthew, your face confused. You can’t quite wrap your head around what you’re seeing. But when you do, when you make the connections, your face scrunches up with emotion.

Your vision grows blurry with tears as you watch the residents of The Dreaming move between large pyres. Music drifts in the air, the beat of drums vibrating through the ground, the voices of dreams and nightmares blending together as one.

Beltane.

You nearly cry as The Dreaming gives you the honor of lighting the first pyre. The residents gather around, each with their own piece of wood to contribute to it. It’s different from the traditional aspect of the festival, but you love it all the same. You watch in awe as fires spark throughout the valley, laughter and contentment resonating through every single dream and nightmare in attendance.

You’re breathless. Your cheeks hurt from smiling and laughing, legs tired and weak from dancing in circles between the fires all night. Merv even slipped you some dark liquid that you think was The Dreaming’s version of liquor. You stumble off into the dark, away from the burning fires and raucous crowd, tripping into the heavy wood of Fiddler’s Green. It’s darker here, the pyres raging in the distance, hooting and hollering echoing over the hills. You wipe the sweat from your brow with your shirt, hiking your skirt up to free your legs and cool yourself down.

“I have been looking for you.” his voice, cool and deep, floats over you softly. The wisps shiver, their soft light flickering, illuminating the Endless who is suddenly standing before you. You lick your lips.

“Morpheus…”

“Witchling.” You both stand silent before each other, and you’re about to ask him where he’s been when he speaks. “I have something I would like to show you, if you would care to join me?” He holds his hand out to yours, supernovas blinking in his eyes.

“You did all this for me?” you ask as you walk, stepping carefully on the path to avoid anything that could knock you off course. You don’t want to let go of his hand. Ever.

“I had assistance.”

“Morpheus, thank you… it was incredible. I can’t even begin to tell you how perfect it was. It was beautiful… I feel very lucky.” You grin broadly, your exuberance overflowing. The wisps reflect your mood, their warm glow shining more intensely, shimmering in the dark like stars themselves. You feel his eyes watching you, and you grip his hand tighter.

You stand perplexed as he brings you to a halt outside of the cottage. At first, you don’t notice anything amiss. It’s dark, and your eyes strain to catalogue your surroundings.

But then you hear it.

The soothing sound of running water. The wisps brighten, and your eyes find a moss-covered mound, with an opening in its center revealing a small pool.

“This is a freshwater spring. I am aware you have been conjuring water so that you may nourish your garden. I hope this will ease that burden.”

“You made me a well. On Beltane.” Does he know? The light trickling sounds of the water fills the silence between you two as you glance over, the knowledge that he holds of every culture, every custom, every ritual blinking back at you. Of course, he knows. “You made me a well, on Beltane.”

“I did.” And idea sparks in your mind, and you turn, reaching out to touch his arm briefly.

“Wait right here, please.” Sprinting off into the cottage, you grab the object you need hastily, returning to his side as quickly as you can manage.

“The first water drawn from a well on Beltane is said to bring luck for the rest of the year.” You dip your mug into the babbling spring, bringing it up full. “Will you share it with me, Dream of the Endless?” The formal use of his moniker feels familiar and true, and warmth coils in your stomach.

“Yes.” He answers. You lift the china to your lips, drinking the water deep into your soul and then pass it to him. You envision good fortune, for both of you, and push the other potential blessings far from your mind. You supposed you could invoke fertility for your garden, but the risk is too great, the concentration of power in this realm is too strong, and Hecate forbid you end up making that kind of mistake. His fingers brush yours during the exchange, the swell of longing rising in you again. It’s not home you’re sick for this time, but him. He closes his eyes as he drinks, and you watch his throat bob as he swallows. You’re illuminated by the moon and the wisps, the soft light from both casting onto his flawless skin, and you envision it flush against yours. You shift your body away, face moving to a different direction lest you get caught staring, again. Wisps dance in your line of sight, their light momentarily distracting you when he says your name, the inflection impressed with a sentimental fondness that tugs at your heart.

You turn and realize he’s staring at you, tracing your face reverently as if you’re the only thing in existence. His eyes blaze, the starlight in his gaze captivating, pulling you closer until you’re standing right in front him, the wisps glowing in a circle around you both.

“Morpheus.” You breathe.

“I must admit something to you.”

“Oh?”

“When you first woke here, after your death, you asked me if you had become a dream.” You nod, remembering. “I said you were not a dream, but I am afraid that was a lie.” You startle and look up to him with wide eyes. He places a hand on your cheek, palm cradling your face like you mean something. Like you matter.

“Am I actually a dream, Morpheus?” He shakes his head no, finger coming to stroke the pearl around your neck.

“You are the dream of an Endless.” His mouth meets yours, and your eyes slide shut instinctively as your body responds, your own lips moving with his, the kiss effortless and tender. As he draws away, stars swirl above you, dropping from The Dreaming’s atmosphere to streak across the rich velvet of the night sky. His hand gently tilts your head upward, and you stand together as he holds you close, the outline of his profile illuminated by the celestial show above. You stay there for what feels like hours, until he presses his forehead to yours and whispers,

“You are my dream, little star.”

#dream of the endless #dream of the endless x reader #morpheus x reader #the sandman fanfic #peaches writes #witchling #dream of the endless x original female character

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buckysgrace · 6 months

Text

22. Here Comes the Sun

Part twenty two to Every Little Thing!

CW: Traumatic labor experience!!

“What are you doing?” Gator questioned as he walked into the house, feeling his irritation slipping away. He’d been removed from the task force, someone claiming that he was steering them away from the ranch. It was bullshit. He stopped, knocking his boots against the side of the house so he could brush off the small dust of April snow that had since fallen.

Daphne was squatted down on an exercise ball, rotating her hips slowly as she wrinkled her features up in dismay. He watched in amusement as he shut the door behind him, then bent down to pet Birdie who had greeted him eagerly at the door.

“I need these babies to come out,” Daphne grunted as she continued to swivel her hips, “I am not having them rip my guts out.” She held one finger up, looking deeply concentrated as she continued to move around.

He sighed softly, knowing it had been her newest obsession since she’d realized there would be a chance she could have a C-section. He didn’t know how she’d managed to go so far without panicking over it.

“That’s not how it works,” He reassured her gently as he bent over to kiss the top of her head, “Everything is going to be fine. No matter what happens.” He reassured her, knowing that she would make it out okay. She had good days, but this day seemed to be a little worse as she nodded her head slowly.

“Two more weeks,” She breathed out, her cheeks flushed as she gripped his outstretched hand to slowly pull herself up, “That’s not too bad.”

“They’ll be here before we know it,” He told her softly, “And they’re both at a healthy weight already.” He told her quickly. Their little girl was slightly underweight, but their son was more than the average weight.

“They’re no longer little berries.” She pointed out, sending him a smile as she leaned up to peck his lips. He paused for a second before he dipped back down for another kiss, making her giggle in response.

“Not even close,” He smiled as he helped her back onto the couch, “They’ll be driving before we know it.” He pointed out, sure that the time must fly. She shook her head, looking like she didn’t want to hear that.

“Don’t say that,” She whined, “I’m ready for them to be here. I just get so worked up sometimes.” She mumbled as she rubbed her fingertips across her pregnancy belly. He sat next to her, bringing his slightly cool fingertips over her stomach as well.

“I know,” He mumbled as he kissed her cheek, “It’s okay. You have bad nerves, it happens to the best of us.” He told her softly before he moved across her lap to pull the foot rest up. She turned towards him curiously.

“What are you doing?” She asked him curiously, trying to wiggle up to look at him. He nudged her back down before he sat on the floor, wanting to spoil her just a bit. He felt guilty sometimes, feeling like she thought that she was locked in their house. He just wanted to make sure she was safe.

“Just sit back and relax,” He smiled as he dug through her bag of nail polish again, “What color do you want?” He asked as he held up a few different shades. He could tell that she used the dusty rose color more than the rest, so he tried to avoid that one.

“Hm,” She paused as she tried to look down at her toes, “Maybe the yellow. Since spring will be here soon.” She said hopefully, smiling as she began to massage her hands over her bump again. He nodded his head, thinking that was a good answer as he slowly began to paint her nails.

“What are you watching?” He asked curiously, confused as to what all of the yelling on the TV was about. She shifted a little bit, wiggling her toes before he stopped her.

“Floribama Shore,” She replied sheepishly, “I’ve had a thing for reality TV recently.” She wrinkled up her nose, giggling softly as his features wrinkled up at her odd choice of entertainment. He shook his head, chuckling to himself as he continued his work.

When one toe was finished drying he’d bring it up to his lips, giving her skin a soft kiss just to hear the sweet sound of her laughter coming from her lips. He smiled as he screwed the cap back onto the nail polish bottle, hoping that he might help her feel a little better.

That night he rested on her lap on the couch, the same way he had for the past few months since she hadn’t been able to get comfortable lying on her back. It really didn’t bother him much. Their couch was nice and she was soft.

He kept swatting at the side of his face, feeling a little paw digging into his cheek. He grumbled, continually trying to brush Birdie away until he felt the threat of claws beginning to dig into his skin. He rolled over in frustration, snapping his eyes open as he stared down at the cat's wide eyes. It was then that he heard Daphne’s heavy breathing.

“You alright?” He asked groggily as he woke up as she continued to shift in her spot. He sat up a bit, reaching for his phone to check the time. It was only a little bit past midnight. He could still pass out and sleep a few more hours before he had to go into work.

“Yeah,” She replied, then groaned as she winced, “No. It hurts a lot.” She exhaled harshly, shutting her eyes tightly as she continued to rub at her back. He sat up quickly, unsure of where to touch her.

“What does?” He asked worriedly, moving his fingertips into her back to try and ease the pain for her. She sniffled harshly, shaking her head as she continued to shift in her spot.

“My back, down my legs and my abdomen,” She inhaled deeply after she spoke, “I’m sure it’s fine.” She breathed out roughly, but he could tell by her tone that she was close to tears. He quickly stood, nearly tripping over Birdie on his way to turn on the lights.

She moved the footrest down, sitting on the edge of the couch as she rubbed at her lower back. She was breathing deeply, her face contorted in pain as a tear slipped down her cheek. He felt his heart stall in his chest for just a second before he rushed forward to sit next to her.

“Are these contractions?” He asked gently, trying to remember what the rule was but all he could think of was 911. This wasn’t quite an emergency yet. He wiped the tears from her cheeks, his heart hammering roughly in his chest.

“I don’t know,” She breathed out rapidly as he wiped another tear from the corner of her eye, “It’s just really intense.” She whimpered this time, her breathing becoming louder and more intense. He shook his head, realizing she was beginning to panic.

“Just breathe deeply,” He instructed, bringing her attention back to his face as he inhaled deeply with her. She followed his movements, trembling underneath his touch as she slowly exhaled with him. He repeated the movements with her a few more times until she was breathing calmly on her own, “Let’s go to the hospital.”

“I’m not ready,” She spit out, shaking her head as she began to cry harder, “It’s not time yet.” She hiccuped as she cried, beginning to breathe harder again as she gently tapped her cheek. He brought her attention back towards him, and he practiced the same deep breaths with her once again.

“Maybe they’re not ready either,” He added gently, trying to keep her calm so she wouldn’t end up having an anxiety attack, “We should at least get the pain checked out, right?” He nodded his head with her, watching the way she blinked rapidly.

“Yeah,” She sniffled as she watched him, her eyes even brighter from the tears in her eyes, “I’m in my pajamas.” She pointed out, looking a little out of it as she stared down at her matching Winnie the Pooh set. He smiled softly, motioning towards his fluffy pajama bottoms he had on.

“So am I,” He laughed softly, doing his best to keep from showing his worry, “Let me go get you some socks. Do you want fuzzy or regular?” He asked as he rubbed her knees, trying to keep her focused on anything but the pain. Birdie hopped up on the arm rest, meowing loudly as he pressed his cheek up against her arm.

“Just regular is fine,” She mumbled softly as she wiped at her cheeks, “It hurts again.” She told him weakly, looking fearful as he squeezed at her skin again. He wished he could do something to take the pain away from her.

“Just keep breathing like we were doing, alright?” He asked her, almost hating to leave her alone, “I’ll be right back.” He mumbled as he leaned over to messily kiss the top of her head. He breathed in deeply, letting himself be vulnerable for just a moment before he turned away.

He raced up the stairs, taking two steps at a time and racing down the hall to their room. He pulled the drawer open quickly, grabbing a pair of socks that were decorated with little butterflies. He pushed the closet door open next, reaching inside to grab the baby stuff they’d already packed for. He took it, just to be safe.

His hand was shaking as he rushed back down the stairs, but he made himself stop so she couldn’t sense his worry. He gave her a reassured smile, kissing both of her knees before he slipped her socks on over her feet. He moved to her shoes next, sliding on a pair of Crocs so she’d be more comfortable.

“I look silly.” She pointed out, sniffling as a stiff grin formed on her lips. He noticed the way she was trying to keep herself composed. He kissed the top of her head again.

“Who cares,” He responded, helping her sit forward so he could assist her with her heavy coat. He brushed her hair from her face again, trying to be a little reassuring as he took her hands to help her stand, “I do too.”

The drive there wasn’t long, granted that Gator went well over the speed limit. He kept one hand attached to Daphne’s, squeezing occasionally to remind her that this would be alright. He hoped that it would.

She was rushed back right away and it didn’t take long to confirm that she was contracting, that she was dilated and the twins would be arriving whether they were ready or not. He was on edge, desperately wishing that he had remembered his vape so he could sneak into the bathroom for a hit.

Once she got her epidural, things calmed down. She was far enough along to get the shot, but things seemed to slow down after that. She still faced contractions, but it didn’t seem as serious as before.

“What’s going on?” He snuck out with the nurse, feeling like something was wrong as the hours continued to tick by. He had already texted both of their relatives to update them, but that had been a long time ago. He was tired, but he could tell that Daphne was even more exhausted. He felt like something needed to be done.

“She just might be stalling,” The nurse started to speak, glancing over at where Daphne was wiggling her toes on the bed, “We’ll keep an eye on that as well.” She nodded her head, but Gator lingered towards the last part of her sentence.

“What else is wrong?” He asked quickly, feeling a little worried at the aspect. He felt the air in his lungs growing cold, fearing that something was wrong with the three of them.

“One baby hasn’t turned,” The nurse said softly, “Nothing to be concerned with yet. We’re keeping a good eye on her and them, we’ll check back soon.” She replied with a smile before she was off, leaving Gator to dig his feet into the floor before he made his way back to Daphne.

“What did they say?” She asked curiously, looking cute in her little hospital gown. He leaned over the bed to get closer to her, wishing that he could take some of the pain from her.

“Nothin’,” He mumbled as he brushed his finger across her bangs, “They just talked about how pretty you were.” He mumbled as he leaned down to kiss her forehead. She was slightly sweaty, her cheeks flushed from how hot she was.

“Stop it.” She groaned as she tried to cover her face with her hands. He put them down gently, not wanting her to shy away from him.

“I’m being serious,” He grinned as he traced his finger down to her nose, squishing it softly, “They said you’re gonna be the prettiest mama they ever seen.” He told her seriously, suddenly aware of just how much he loved her.

It wasn’t much longer when they came back, giving them the facts this time. She wasn’t dilating like she should be and with the risk of losing her and the babies, they wanted to move into a c-section. Daphne freaked out a little at that, but once she was prepped and on the table she was fine.

“How do you feel?” He mumbled as he leaned over her and gently dragged his thumb against her skin. He dragged it across her flesh, admiring how soft she felt against him.

“Oh I feel fine,” She responded cheerily, “I’m wiggling my toes. Well I think. I can’t feel my toes. But I think I’m wiggling my toes.” She furrowed her eyebrows together, glancing down until she remembered that there was a sheet blocking their view.

“Yeah?” He smiled softly, glad that she was more carefree than anything, “Those drugs must be nice, huh?” He teased her as he traced his thumb across her bottom lip. He thought of the times they’d smoked pot together, how she always got giggly and talkative.

“Yeah,” She giggled as she turned towards him, her eyes slightly hazy, “I don’t feel nothing. Are my guts on the table?” She tilted her head, looking at him in confusion as if he would peak around the sheet to see what they were doing.

“Nope,” He told her, his lips still pursed into a smile, “I just peeked. No guts are exposed.” He smiled as he leaned forward to kiss her chin. He rubbed his thumb across her hand, glad that she was finally relaxed.

“Did you know they just go right back into place?” She asked him, “Isn’t that weird?” She shook her head like she couldn’t believe it. He paused, wishing that she hadn’t shared that with him.

“It is,” He agreed with her, “You’re doing so great.” He praised her as he brought their connected hands up to his mouth. He kissed her knuckles softly, watching the way her eyes sparkled.

“I really thought you’d pass out.” She said as she cracked a smile, her features relaxed and steady as she traced her eyes over his features.

“I helped a time or two when the calves were born,” He laughed, “And the horses.” He added a second later, recalling when his own horse had been born.

“Are you comparing me to livestock?” She grinned as she looked at him, her eyes twinkling underneath the hospital lights. He leaned forward, brushing his nose against hers for a second.

“You will be producing milk,” He said with a laugh, “I’d say it’s pretty similar.” He tilted his head as he looked down at her, watching the way her smile stayed plastered to her lips. He admired her features, wishing he had drawn more pictures of her. He wasn’t sure if she’d even seen his sketches of her.

“I had a dream about you last night.” She said softly, her smile dropping just a little bit as she turned towards him seriously. He tilted his head.

“What?”

“A dream,” She said again, “You were walking. Just in the dark. You couldn’t see me.” She said seriously as she furrowed her eyebrows together, looking like he should be concerned with it. He supposed that was better than her dreaming about him cheating on her.

“That sounds a bit scary,” He teased as he squeezed their hands together, “There weren’t a lot of spiders, were there?” He asked as he traced her cheek again. She turned towards him fiercely.

“Promise me you’ll take care of them.” She said a second later, blinking slowly as she watched him. He tapped her cheek, frowning at her words.

“I’m going to take care of everyone,” He said sternly, “You included.” He mumbled as he leaned forward to peck her lips. She inhaled sharply, leaning against him as he held her closer. He wasn’t losing her.

The sound of crying tore them apart, making his heart seize in a way he didn’t know was possible. He blinked hard, feeling his eyes growing wet as they waited in anticipation.

“A boy,” The nurse introduced him to Gator first. His mouth was wide as he cried, his little fists jumbled up as she passed him along to Gator, “Congrats.” Gator felt an odd sound fall from his lips, partially a laugh and partially a sob as he looked down at the little boy.

“Look,” He turned his son down towards Daphne, his throat suddenly feeling raw and scratchy as he traced over his features, “Our boy.” He grinned proudly as he looked at her

“Oh,” She whispered softly, “He has strong lungs. That’s good.” She moved her fingers slowly through their son’s hair, smiling as he continued to cry in Gator’s arms. He slowly moved him into her arms, allowing her to cradle him as another cry filled the room.

“And a girl,” The nurse smiled, “Careful, she’s a bit smaller.” He was already blinking tears away, but the sight of his baby girl set him over the edge. His sob took him by surprise, tears trickling from his eyes as he held the tiny infant in his arms.

“You’re crying,” Daphne said at last, her eyes lightly glazed over, “I told you, you’d cry.” She smiled lightly, looking amused as her own tears shone brightly in her eyes. He nodded his head quickly, trying to keep it together.

“You did,” He agreed as he rapidly tried to blink the tears from his eyes, “You were right.” He nodded as he looked down at his daughter, admiring her soft cheeks and tiny nose. Her legs were pulled up towards her chest as she sobbed.

He turned towards Daphne, about to mention how loud they were when he noticed something changed in her demeanor. The nurses were quick, snatching away the babies and ushering Gator out as an alarm ranged overhead. It happened quickly, fast enough that he was unable to fully process what had just happened.

“What’s going on?” He spit out harshly, his chest aching as he stared at the way more people rushed inside the room. He watched the way the nurse in front of him was speaking, but nothing made sense. It was like he couldn’t hear over the sound of his heart hammering inside of his chest. It was too loud.

“Sir?” The nurse shook her head, looking at him unsure as he kept feeling his eyes darting around. He couldn’t focus suddenly, his chest clenching into a tight ball as he blinked his eyes slowly.

“Mr. Tillman,” The nurse touched his shoulder again, “Did you have names figured out for the twins.” He looked up at her, still trying to process the fact that Daphne was hemorrhaging. He wanted to ask if she was okay, but he was afraid over what the answer would be. She would be fine. She had to be fine.

“Uh,” He stared at her as the sinking feeling grew, “I want to wait for Daphne. She was supposed to pick out our son's name.” He blinked slowly, shaking his head as he stared ahead. He realized he was sitting then. He wondered how long he’d been sitting. He didn’t remember sitting down.

“Alright,” She nodded her head softly, “Do you need anything?” She asked him, looking worried as he felt his mouth growing dry. He was panicked, fearful as he sat there. He needed to tell her parents.

“No,” He breathed out roughly, “Not right now.” He shook his head, trying to keep his emotions from growing jumbled. She paused as she bent down, trying to face him better.

“Do you want to see them?” She asked him sweetly, giving him a small smile as he tried to focus on what she was saying. He paused, feeling like it was wrong. She should see them first.

“I should wait for her.” He said at last, nodding his head as he agreed with his own thoughts. She would see them again. She’d be okay.

“They’re about to get their first baths,” She said softly, “I’m sure they’d like it if their daddy was there.” She replied, making him think about it for a moment. He nodded his head, gulping as he realized she was probably right. It wouldn’t do any good to stress out about it right now.

He followed her down the hall, his legs feeling like they were weighed down by cement as he walked. He kept glancing around, trying to gain a sense of where Daphne was at. About how she was doing.

“Should I record for her?” He asked the other nurse, still feeling like his mind was miles away. He watched as the nurse gently picked up his son, holding him in a little bundle of blankets. He was no longer crying and Gator realized just how long he was for the first time.

“You can,” She reassured him as his son continued to squirm in her arms, “I think she’d like that.” She gave him a smile, making him nod his head as he pulled out his phone. He felt a smile twitch on his lips, watching the way his little boy shuddered as the nurse gently scrubbed at his hair.

“He has a lot of hair.” He pointed out a second later, smiling as he noticed the thick locks. His hair was slightly lighter, nearly an auburn shade. It was hard to tell right away, but he had a feeling that his son might look like him.

“He really does,” She smiled, “And a strong grip. That’s good.” She responded, then took Gator through the steps of fastening his diaper and swaddling him back up. He brushed his fingertips across the infant's cheek, hoping that Daphne would be the one to give the next bath.

“She’s loud.” He observed as the nurse lifted his daughter up next. She was still as tiny and still howled as she cried. It made his heart ache, wondering if she was crying for Daphne. She hadn’t got to meet her.

Her hair was darker but just as thick as the nurse began to scrub at her hair this time. Gator recorded her too, smiling at the way she kept bringing her legs up to her chest. She definitely hadn’t been ready to leave her mama just yet.

“She has very strong lungs,” The nurse laughed as she continued to gently wash his daughter’s thick locks, “That’s good too.” She pointed out, making Gator nod in agreement. They were okay, but it was hard for him to solely focus on that at the moment. He loved his kids, but he had spent his whole life loving Daphne.

“Have you heard about my wife?” He asked her a second later, his throat tightening in fear as he assumed the worst. She turned towards him, giving him a sincere look.

“I have not,” The nurse apologized softly, “I’m sure they’ll update you as soon as we hear anything.” She told him what he already knew, leaving him without any reassurances. He did his best to keep from breaking down, nodding as she began to fasten his daughter’s diaper this time.

“Okay.”

“Do you want to do some skin to skin?” She asked him suddenly, pausing her movements before she stuck the infant's fist through the onesie sleeve. He turned towards her in confusion.

“What’s that?” He asked softly, feeling like that word was something new to him. He glanced back down at his little girl, watching the way she squirmed and wiggled her little toes about. He thought of Daphne again, as a sorrow settled over his chest.

“It’s to help bond with the babies,” She replied with a soft smile, “Very beneficial.” That was all she needed to say for him to make up his mind, hoping that it might help keep him distracted for at least a little bit.

He felt odd sitting there with his shirt off and not having Daphne around, but it felt good to feel the twins against his chest. His daughter wiggled and squirmed, blinking her eyes but keeping silent as he held onto her. His son slumbered peacefully, curling up without much of a second thought. He liked their soft baby smells and how they already seemed to have different personalities from one another.

“She’s all better,” A nurse came in a few minutes later, making him breath out shakily in relief, “She’s up and waiting for you.” He was quick to get up, passing the twins off with a silent apology as he dressed himself. He’d have a lot of time to be with them; he needed to be with Daphne right now.

Daphne was back in the regular room, her eyes shut and a tired look on her face when he entered. He exhaled in relief as she fluttered her eyes open, her lips curling into a soft smile as he approached her.

“Hey,” He cooed as he pushed her sweaty bangs off of her forehead, “Are you okay?” He questioned as he began to kiss her forehead, cupping her face oh so gently. He didn’t want to hurt her, but he had desperately missed the feeling and smell of her. She was as soft as always.

“Thirsty,” She mumbled, her voice raspy as she blinked her hazy eyes, “Is there any water?” She whispered softly, her voice a little raspy as she blinked tiredly again. He nodded as he glanced towards her table, pulling the cup that had been left there.

“Just take it easy,” He reassured her as he held the cup up to her lips, “Don’t drink too fast.” He told her gently, admiring her features as if he might somehow forget them. That had been too close for his comfort.

“Did you see them?” She asked softly, her eyes rolling over his features in concern as he continued to brush his fingers across her face. He didn’t want to let her go.

“Yeah,” He grinned as he leaned forward to kiss her temple, “You did an amazing job, mama.” He mumbled against her skin, inhaling softly as he held onto her. She still seemed a bit out of it, like she didn’t fully realize what had happened.

“I want to see them.” She replied as she held onto him, blinking slowly as she wrinkled her dark eyebrows together. He nodded his head, moving his lips to her knuckles next. He was worried, unable to ignore the pain that had filled his chest.

“They’re bringing them,” He reassured her, “Do you feel okay?” He asked as he rubbed his cheek against her hands gently. She smiled for a moment, brushing her fingertips across his skin as he continued his motions.

“My upper back and shoulder really hurts,” She replied softly, “Must be this bed.” She replied, shifting a little bit as one of the nurses walked in with a clipboard. He watched Daphne, noticing a dark color on her chest as she moved.

“Hey,” He paused as he pressed his finger against the top of her gown, bringing it down low enough to expose the middle of her chest, “What’s this?” He asked, a little horrified as he looked at the nasty bruise. She blinked, looking down at her chest in confusion.

“Oh it was in her report,” The nurse smiled painfully as she looked at it, “They did a sternum rub to bring her back. It’s painful, but it kept them from accidentally starting compressions when she didn’t need it.” She nodded her head and Gator felt his heart sink a little deeper into his stomach as he realized just how serious it had been.

“Oh,” Daphne drew out dramatically, “That’s why my chest hurts.” She said as she looked down at her skin again. He glanced back towards the nurse.

“Nothing’s broken?” He asked, hoping that she didn’t have to deal with any broken ribs on top of recovering from her surgery. Broken ribs weren’t too painful, but they were irritating.

“Oh no,” The nurse shook her head, “You’re just really sensitive there. She probably didn’t respond at first, so they dug in just a little deeper.” She looked over Daphne’s chest for a moment, clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth.

“That makes sense,” He nodded his head as he sat back in his seat, “I’m glad you came to.” He smiled as he squeezed at Daphne’s hand. She nodded her head, still looking a little dazed like she hadn’t fully processed everything yet.

The nurses dropped off the little bassinets a few minutes later, but Gator found it hard to pay attention to them. He was too preoccupied watching Daphne, fearing that he might lose her in a blink of an eye.

“Oh wow,” She laughed, fat tears rolling down her cheeks as she held both of them in her arms, “They’re so small.” She sniffled as she looked back and forth between the two of them. They were slumbering, sleeping peacefully as they snuggled deeper into her chest.

“He was seven pounds two ounces,” He explained softly as he drifted his fingertips through their son's hair gently, “And she was five pounds eight ounces.” He explained, noticing the way she was slowly coming more to it.

“Wow,” She breathed out softly as she continued to choke on her tears, “They’re so cute.” She sniffled as she shook her head, smiling sweetly at the both of them.

“They wanted to know names,” He mumbled as he kissed the top of her head, “I think I decided on Piper.” He replied softly, a little nervous about what she thought about the name. He wanted to make her happy.

“That’s so pretty,” She sobbed as she leaned against him, her shoulders shaking gently, “You told me you liked that name from before.” She sniffled again as he rubbed his hands up and down her shoulders, leaning over to kiss the top of her head.

“I did,” He laughed as he let her rest her head against his chest, “What did you decide on?” He mumbled as he pushed his fingers through her hair. She sighed softly, sniffling as she looked down at their little boy.

“Knox Andrew,” She said as she sniffled, “I really like that name.” She replied as she turned towards him, her blue eyes bright as she stared up at him. He nodded his head, reassuring her that he enjoyed the name.

“It’s a nice name,” He mumbled as he gently wiped her tears away, “You did a good job.” He told her again, cupping her face as he pressed his lips against hers gently. She kissed him sweetly, her lips smooth and wet as he clung to her.

“I can’t believe this,” She continued to cry as she pulled away, “We made babies. I think they look like you.” She mused dreamily as she looked at them again. She winced a little bit as she adjusted them, making Piper stir a little in her arms.

“Maybe he does,” He said softly, thinking of the pictures they’d poured over the past few days, “But she’s gonna look like you.” He pointed out, already thinking that there were too many similarities for her features to change.

“They have your hair,” She mused, shifting a bit so he could take Knox from her arms. She shifted, like her shoulder was really bothering her, “He’s a little heavier.” She explained softly, looking like she felt bad.

“S’alright,” He reassured her, “You’ll have plenty of time to hold them.” He told her quickly, knowing that she didn’t have to hold both of them at the same time.

She struggled with her first attempt with nursing. Piper refused to latch, squirming and wiggling about until she was red in the face. Knox was easier, latching right away and making little sounds that reminded Gator of the piglets they’d once had.

“Here’s their baths,” He mumbled as he scooted closer to her, “They did really well.” He told her, holding onto the phone in one hand and Piper in the other. She was warm and soft and he found himself pausing every so often to move down and kiss her forehead again.

“Can you believe there’s two of them?” She said in awe as she rubbed at Knox’s cheek again, “Two perfect little babies.” She mumbled, smiling sweetly as she traced over his features. He watched her, knowing she already had this down perfectly.

Her family came first. Ruby was attached to her side, seemingly more interested in what was happening with Daphne than the twins. He didn’t mind. He was actually glad that someone else was taking special interest in what she was doing.

“I think I have your baby blanket,” Ruby said suddenly. She stood behind Daphne, having a pile of pillows wrapped around her as she rubbed at Daphne’s shoulders, “I’ll have to get that out too.” She mumbled to herself, moving her eyes up towards the ceiling like she had a mental list.

“Do I still get the baby blankets you knitted?” Daphne tilted her head back, her eyebrows knitting together in concern as she looked at Ruby worriedly. Gator grinned as he rubbed his arm, nodding his head along to whatever Bruce was talking about.

“Yes,” Ruby laughed softly, “I just thought you’d like to keep it now.” She smiled as she kissed the top of her head before she walked away towards the babies. Gator took it as his opportunity to move back to Daphne.

“How do you feel?” He asked her, whispering softly as he rubbed at her ankle. She sent him a tired grin, dragging her eyes away from where Noelle and August were trading the twins back and forth. He thought it was odd that August could be here for their kids but not for his own.

“A little better,” She mumbled, “I think I'm pumped full of drugs, honestly.” She laughed, looking a little amused as he linked their fingers together. He was just glad she wasn’t in any type of pain at the moment.

“You went through a lot,” He reassured her, hoping that she wouldn’t get upset again, “You deserve some good drugs.” He teased her, being full serious as he traced his finger across her smooth skin.

“Ha,” She smiled as she looked down towards him, “You’re so funny.” She nudged him softly, but had the decency to still look amused at his words. He traced his eyes over her dark eyebrows, her bright eyes and slightly pink cheeks. He traced her freckles and moles, then her plump lips. She was stunning, like an angel.

“Hey,” He whispered as he leaned forward, “I love you. You know that, right?” He questioned her softly, sitting close enough so she was the only one that could hear him. She smiled as she drew her eyes up towards his, then squeezed his face softly.

“I love you too.” She breathed out softly, her eyes warming the inside of his chest.

//////////////////////////////////////

The next two days were a bit better, but he could tell Daphne was a lot more sore than she was the previous night. He could tell she was hurting, even though she kept trying to brush it off.

“Your dad never came,” She observed gently as she turned towards him, watching the way he cradled Piper to his bare chest, “Did you tell him?” She looked at him curiously, making him feel a little disappointed as he was reminded about Roy’s words.

“He said they’d come by when we’re home,” He responded as he glanced away, “He’s been busy with something.” He shrugged his shoulders as he rubbed his fingers down Piper’s back, smiling at the way she shivered.

“Secretive,” She mumbled, smiling as she ran her fingers through Knox’s hair in fascination, “I can’t believe they’re actually here.” She said again, still sounding as fascinated as she looked down at them again.

“I can’t either,” He told her truthfully. He didn’t say it outloud, but he was really enjoying doing the skin on skin time with the twins, “You did such a great job.” He praised her again, hoping that she understood just how proud of her she was. She flushed a little, sending him a shy smile as she rocked Knox towards her chest.

Gator was less than happy by the time the nurse returned back. The twins were in the clear to leave, perfectly healthy and ready to go home. Daphne wasn’t. They wanted to keep her another night. On her own. He wasn’t thrilled with the idea.

“What do you mean she can’t go back yet?” He asked, doing his best to keep his frustration at bay as he looked back towards Daphne. She was holding onto Piper this time, rocking her as she gave her a bottle.

“It’s just a routine thing. Her experience was a bit more traumatic so we just want an extra day to watch her.” The nurse explained and it really did make sense, but Gator didn’t feel like it was right to leave Daphne behind.

“You can go home,” Daphne reassured him, “I’m going to be fine. My mom will be here.” She said with a soft nod, making him sigh as he quickly shook his head.

“I don’t know.” He said at last, fearing what might happen if he left. He was terrified he’d wake up to a phone call. That if he left, he’d be leaving her behind forever.

“You need to rest too,” She pointed out, “You’ll do that a lot better in a comfortable bed. And the twins should see their home.” She smiled as she rubbed her fingers through Piper’s hair, smiling sweetly as she bent over to kiss at her head.

“Are you sure?” He asked her, really hating the thought of leaving her all alone. He pushed his hair back, watching the way she quickly nodded her head.

“Positive,” She grinned at him, “All I do is sleep anyways. I’m still so sore.” She groaned as she rolled her shoulder around again, wincing a bit as Piper grunted in protest.

“What if something happens and I’m not here?” He asked her seriously, his stomach twisting and turning at the thought. He didn’t want to lose her. He feared it more than anything.

“What if something happens and you are here?” She shot back, smiling at the question, “Sometimes things happen and there’s nothing we can do about it. Even if you were here, it doesn’t mean you’d be able to save me.” She pointed out, making his chest a bit more hollow as he thought about it.

“I don’t like that scenario.” He told her seriously, sighing as he leaned forward to brush his nose against hers. She inhaled softly, smiling up towards him as she pulled away.

“Go home,” She told him, laughing as she kissed his cheek, “Get some good rest. Take a shower. I’ll be alright.” She promised him.

#Gator Tillman #Gator Tillman x oc #Gator Tillman x original character #Gator Tillman x fem!oc #Gator Tillman series #Gator Tillman fanfiction #Dad!Gator Tillman

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hirokiro · 2 years

Text

prt 4 Princesses, Dragons and Elves oh my!

Gill awoke to a familiar scene, two faces peering anxiously down at him. What was different was the sun blazing into his eyes.

“Hey,” Lana waved, looking worried, Glen hanging over her shoulder “You doin’ alright?”

Gill closed his eyes again and sighed.

“Just give me a minute.”

He took his time gathering himself, but eventually sat up. He saw it was high noon at this point.

“What happened?” Lana asked, although he imagined Glen had already informed her.

Gill took in a deep breath, noticing for the first time that she was in a riding outfit. It had been too dark in the cave to take in such details. Must have been hunting or something, caught outside the walls by the dragon.

“I am beyond terrified of flying. Not heights.” he clarified, pointing upwards, “Flying. I can’t do flying. I just can’t. And…” He glanced up at Glen, “I didn’t have the time to explain before we were already up. So… I had…” he looked down, feeling his ears burn again.

“I had a panic attack.”

Lana put a hand on his shoulder, giving a reassuring squeeze, “That must have been awful.”

“I’m deeply sorry,” Glen apologized, “I know it can be scary, but I’ve never… seen a panic attack before. That was… a whole different kind of scary.”

“I was pretty freaked out, first time flying,” Lana commented comfortingly, “Of course,” She smirked up at the dragon, “Being kidnapped without much explanation didn’t help.”

Glen grumbled, but apologized again. “I did bring, ah, some meat,” he added.

“I brought your pack!” Lana piped up, “With your knife!”

Gill smiled weakly, “Ah, good. Certainly going to need that.

“Now,” he stood carefully, “Let’s not talk about what happened anymore. I don’t want to keep remaining in negative emotions. Show me the kill and I’ll make a meal, and we’ll go from there.”

The deer carcass wasn’t far off. Gill got to work, saying nothing more and not engaging in any kind of conversation, aside from asking Lana to gather firewood and Glenn to clear a patch of earth so as to avoid catching the field on fire.

The silence was awkward but Gill was too out of it to feel the vibes as the other two made some small talk with each other quietly.

But the meat was at last ready and cooking. Gill foraged, finding useful herbs to flavor the meat and even a root vegetable.

As the mouth watering scents drifted over them he noticed Lana watching with a hungry look in her eyes.

“Have you eaten recently, Lana?” he asked, “I think you mentioned being tired of someone else’s cooking, so you can have some.”

She grinned, “Please!”

“Well excuse me for not knowing the culinary arts.” Glen grumbled, looking elsewhere.

“It’s not for everyone,” Lana reassured him sympathetically. Glen continued to act sulky.

Gill chuckled a little, turning the meat over, “Alright then. As long as I’m here I’ll see to the little people’s cooking needs if the big guy doesn’t mind supplying.”

“It’s not a problem.”

There was again little conversation until the food was ready and they were eating.

Lana was ecstatic.

“Even this vegetable tastes good, oh my god thank you for being here!” she exclaimed, “I was so sick of Glen’s charred sorry excuse for food and only berries now and then.”

Gill smiled, “You’re welcome.” He himself felt a lot better after eating, and more able to tackle the rest of the day. He didn’t let himself think about how they were getting back to the dragon’s cave.

“Tell me about yourself,” Lana asked.

“Hm? Oh.” Gill contemplated, taking a bite of food to stave off a reply, “Well, there’s not much to talk about. I’m a wanderer, a rolling stone. I don’t stay in any one place too long. I love the open air.”

“I wish I could travel more,” Lana commented, pausing in her enthusiastic munching, “But, you know how it is, being a girl, being royalty, you got your duties.”

“It’s noble to stick to them,” Gill nodded, “I’m rather aimless myself with no real goals in life.” He took another bite, “I’ve had the wanderlust since forever, so that’s what I do. Roughing it in the wilds and on the road, never in one place for long. I sometimes want to settle,” he tilted his head as he thought, “But… well, “He smiled ruefully, “Sooner or later I get the itch and I have to follow more of that horizon, see where it leads.” Gill thought about how perhaps he was painting too rosy a picture and only making it more appealing to the princess. “But it’s incredibly tough.” he cautioned, “I trained for years to develop expert tracking and survival skills. It’s just me against the land. It’s a lonely existence if you’re used to the company of people.”

Lana still looked fascinated, “Could you teach me?” she asked.

Gill raised an eyebrow, “Well, no, there’s not really time. Which brings me back to what I keep wanting to

discuss with the two of you.” as Glen and Lana pricked their ears to listen, he continued, “In a week or so I think, if people took up the call as quickly as I did, there’s going to be less friendly company finding this place soon if they’re decent at understanding how to track a dragon. So.” He steepled his fingers and looked from one to the other, “We have to stop the pleasantries and talk seriously about this.”

“I suppose…” Lana pouted a little. Glen gave a similarly displeased growl.

A little exasperated, Gill said more forcefully, “I’m serious. Lana, I’m not sugar-coating it but you’re just of

marriageable age and your hand’s been promised to whoever rescues you.”

Lana started slightly, eyes widening, but then they narrowed and she looked at the elf suspiciously, “You’re here to rescue me.” she commented, almost accusingly.

Sighing in more exasperation, Gill replied, “I’ve got a very different relationship with you going forward and I’m not interested in marrying anybody, let alone a human too young for me,” He paused and decided to add for emphasis, “And even more let alone someone I just met.”

She still looked annoyed. Glenn snickered a little, knowing his and the elf’s first conversation.

Gill got up and walked around distractedly, not knowing how to even continue anymore, “I have to take you home, Lana.”

“No!” came the unified reply. Glen and Lana looked at each other and laughed. Gill covered his eyes for a moment, dragging his hands down his face.

Glen snorted, “I need Lana.”

“I don’t want to go back.” The princess added on to the argument, “This is the most fun and freedom I’ve ever had in my life!”

“What did you just say about duties?” Gill shot back at Lana.

Annoyance was all over her face, “I said I had them, not that I wanted to do them. I hate living with all those rules. Out here I have a friend and get to do interesting things, with no responsibilities.”

“You have to return to those responsibilities sooner or later!” Gill replied with frustration.

“No she doesn’t!” Glen snapped.

“Yeah!”

“HHhrrrrrrrglmrffff…!” Came an undefined noise from the elf as he pivoted in a circle, looking for the best argument, for the general nature around him to lend its support. But his temper was getting the better of him,

“How old are you two? Just think about things!” he threw up his hands at the two of them.

“Look,” Lana snapped back, also standing, wiping her slightly dirty fingers off on her dress, “I don’t need

rescuing right? I’m safe and happy, and want to be here! Just go back and tell the others they can give up

because I don’t need to be rescued, I’ll go back when I want to!”

The elf looked meaningfully up at the dragon, who didn’t immediately back the princess up. Both knew a

dragon didn’t easily let go of the things they took.

“Are you sure about that?” Gill asked.

A warning rumble came from the dragon. Gill realized he was pushing Glen’s patience with him and he took a half step back, glaring up.

“What do you mean?” Lana’s confidence wavered.

Gill turned and walked away, giving himself a minute to cool off and maybe Glen a minute to decide of he

would explain to Lana how dragons functioned and viewed people they happened to like.

He walked several yards, then ran a hand through his hair, making sure to breathe slow.

Alright, next argument. He thought out what he would say. But even giving a minute he could tell Glen had not opened communication with Lana about what the elf said.

He came back, steepled his fingers together, and looked from one to the other.

“Let’s be realistic,” he said, “I know a lot of healers and herbalists from my extensive travels, some of the best live rather remotely and may be able to make something. Glen,” He looked up, letting his hands open, “Whether you two like it or not, people aren’t going to care if Lana’s content to be here, she’s still a princess and everyone has their duties in life-.”

“What about yours?” Lana interjected, taking him off guard.

“That’s beside the point,” Gill tried to evade and continue.

“No it’s not,” she replied snippily, “If everyone has their duties, what are yours? Huh? Getting to wander where you want.”

Glen grinned nastily, “Yeah, Gill, what’s your duty?”

Gill snapped, and the words were out of his mouth before he could think twice, “I fucking told you, Asshole!” he shouted.

Glen blinked and Lana was shocked into silence by the language, hands going to her mouth, eyes wide.

Realizing he had let his temper boil over, Gill closed his eyes and took a deep breath, steeping his fingers together again then dropping his head to touch his forehead to them. Maybe he just had to be open about all of it, right here, right now, break it to her first.

“I’m sorry.” he bowed slightly to Lana, “That was uncalled for in your presence. But… well… Let’s just sit down and I’ll tell you the whole reason I’m here and what my responsibilities are right now. I didn’t want to explain until you were safely home and with your family… but…”

He returned to his pack and took a knee, opening it.

Lana hesitantly sat herself down, a little pouty, but also curious.

Glen gave an uncomfortable rumble, “I should leave you two alone.”

Gill looked up, “If you would please give us a little space.” he said gratefully.

The dragon thumped off step by step to the opposite side of the field, but kept them in sight.

There was an awkward silence for a bit. Lana watching, eyes wide, still taken aback at Gill’s having lost his temper.

“I don’t normally swear, Lana,” he said quietly, “But I’ve been under an immense amount of pressure and

stress. I thought I was going to die yesterday, or you would already be dead by the time I got here. And now you’re both united against me when I just…” he wavered a little, emotions rising, “Just need some sanity and understanding.

“So…” He fished into the pack and brought out the parcel and the letter, “I came all the way to your home to give you something. Even though we’ve never met, I had an obligation I put on myself when my dear friend was no longer able to have these sent to you himself. I chose to bring them personally.”

As he spoke he saw fear and wonder creep into the girl’s eyes. Silently she took the proffered items, realization dawning. She put the parcel aside, then began opening the letter.

She hesitated, glancing briefly to him, before opening it fully. Gill looked away as she scanned the lines. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her hands begin trembling.

When she finished she looked up. “He’s..?” she couldn’t finish. “I’m sorry.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” her voice shook.

Gill met her gaze, “I wanted to break it to the whole family, all together.” He then dropped his eyes to his pack, “I’m sorry I kept it from you, I just didn’t know what to do and haven’t been able to organize my thoughts.”

“Did Glen know?” She asked, looking off to where the dragon sat, his tail waving.

“He pried it out of me,” Gill replied guiltily, “I was trying to convince him to let me trade places with you, I had to explain you weren’t just some random person to me, that… you needed to go home.”

Lana’s eyes glistened with unshed tears, “He’s really…? How did it happen?”

Gill clenched his fists. He couldn’t begin to explain to this girl how her brother died. “I… I don’t know how to answer that, so… well, take a look at what he gave you while I try to figure how to even begin.”

She bowed her head, slowly unwrapping the cloth. When she pulled it away she sat with a medium sized music box in her hands. There was glittering filigree and birds all over. She stared at the delicately painted

wood before opening it. It began to play.

“It doesn’t need to be wound up,” Gill spoke up. The beautiful little tune calmed his emotions, and seemed to

calm Lana’s as well, the tears drying a little. The two listened quietly.

“‘For my Little Bird’ he wrote,” Lana commented sorrowfully, “I was always his Little Bird.”

“Yes,” Gill smiled sadly, “He spoke so fondly of you, and how he couldn’t wait to return and see how you had grown. I myself didn’t realize how old you were at this point. He wasn’t the best at measuring time.”

Silence fell between them again for a time before Gill finally took a deep breath. He had to begin.

“We met, hunting a monster together. He, his friends, and I teamed up, and somehow I wound up becoming

part of that group. He had a very magnetic personality, and I liked him a lot, when I normally don’t like people.”

“Everyone loved him,” Lana nodded.

“He was a good man.”

Gill took another breath, “We traveled a… I don’t know, several months together. Adventuring, seeking out evil to crush. I guided them in the wilds. But… well… there was-were-” he corrected, “Several villages being attacked by…” he almost said “Something.” but… No… he had to be honest.

“...By a dragon.”

He heard Lana’s inhale, but he couldn’t look at her anymore, instead he stared at some undefined point in space, out across the grass.

“I couldn’t reason with this dragon. And… well. We fought and… it was formidable. Adam saved my life, gave me the opportunity to deal the killing blow, but… he… didn’t make it… none of them did…” He bit his lip, closing his eyes, “So… I knew he had just written you a letter, and bought a gift. He was very proud of the find and… so… here I am.”

In the quiet that followed he could hear Lana begin weeping over the music of the little box, and even though he wasn’t a touchy-feely person, Gill shifted over and wrapped her up in a close hug.

Lana wept into his chest for a long time. He didn’t know what to say so he let her cry herself out until eventually she quieted.

“I’m sorry.” he said at last, letting go as she pulled away and straightened.

Lana took some deep inhales, sniffed loudly and rubbed a corner of her sleeve across her nose.

“I… I see now… why you… You were right.” she said quietly, regaining composure as a princess ought to, “I need to go home, at least… my family has to know. Thank you Gill... for coming all this way.”

Gill scratched his cheek, not sure how to respond, “Of course. Anything for my best friend and his little sister.”

The music box played on, and the two sat and listened. A breeze brushed across the grass, ruffling Gill’s hair and sending wisps of loose strands up from Lana’s braid, the dark hair lighting up in the sun’s rays.

She shifted and closed the box, wrapping it up along with the letter, “Hold onto this for me?”

“Yeah,” Gill put it carefully back in his pack.

With a sigh Lana added, “I was being selfish. I didn’t realize how hard you were having it. My obstinacy was childish. I have to go home and be with my family.” she paused, looking away guiltily, “They must be as worried as you were.” Gill nodded, “But this is going to be difficult. When dragons… If…” he sighed and started over, “When dragons grow attached to people they see them as possessions, little different from treasure, just even more cared for. If Glen’s got a strong attachment to you then it’s going to be difficult to make him understand that he can’t keep you like he keeps his treasure. You understand?”

Lana frowned, “You seem to think you know a lot about Glen.”

Gill blinked, “Fair, I don’t know him as a person. But I know dragons as a species. Extremely well, in fact.” he emphasized, “Maybe Glen will be more open to the idea, but this is also why I offered my life for yours. He still has someone who “belongs” to him so to speak, who is also, like you, wanting to help him with his current problem.”

Lana pulled her knees up, wrapping her arms around them. Unconsciously Gill did the same with only one, half-mirroring. But it was his side with the bad shoulder. As he tried to use it, it twinged badly, so he placed it in his lap.

“I’m sure if we explain he’ll understand.” she said, but she didn’t sound completely convinced.

“I really hope so,” Gill replied, “But… we don’t have to talk to him about it right now. I know I just dropped some heavy information on you, and you need time to process. We’re lucky Glen’s a more reasonable dragon than some I’ve met.”

“You meet a lot of dragons?” Lana queried, looking up.

Gill shrugged, “I’m very widely traveled.” he said evasively, looking away.

Lana’s eyes narrowed, but she did not press. There was yet another long pause.

“I guess we should let him come back,” Lana said at last.

Gill looked towards the dragon, “If you’re ready to.”

Lana crooked an eyebrow, “Why wouldn’t I be?” she asked curiously.

Gill started slightly and looked back, “Oh, uh… I dunno. I guess you wouldn’t have said that if you weren’t. My bad.”

The real reason he said that, he realized, was because he wasn’t ready for the dragon to come back. Having the story of Adam dragged out of him once today and then repeated… he didn’t want to deal with Glen.

My emotions aren’t ready for… he started thinking as Lana stood and headed a few yards towards the dragon, calling and waving. Shoot.

He wasn’t ready for this. Gill’s emotions rose and he turned his back to the pair, a hand covering his face for a

moment, feeling tears of his own welling up. But he fought the emotions down as he heard the dragon drawing closer, and was dry-eyed again by the time they were all back together. Or at least he hoped he was.

“You told her everything?” Glen asked.

When Gill didn’t reply, Lana interjected, “He told me everything.”

Glen crouched down, head low, “I’m sorry for your loss, Lana. Truly. And, Gill?”

Reluctantly, Gill looked up, “Yes?”

The dragon shook his head a little, looking awkward, “I know it’s not like I planned it but I’m sorry about the coincidence. You have much courage and fortitude to come this far, and have been more than…” he reached for words, pausing before continuing, “You’ve really gone above and beyond trying to discuss things and putting your life in my power… rather than just pull a sword out and starting what I'm sure you little people would think was a justified fight.”

Taken aback by the compliment, Gill didn’t know how to respond. Praise from a dragon?

“Uh.. well. I… I’ve met more than one dragon in my life and have come to… well,” he scratched the back of his head and looked elsewhere, too uncomfortable to look anyone in the eye, “I just figured if Lana was alive and well then there was hope we could all talk rationally as adults ought to, and if not then I’d try to avenge her, that seemed the… if not logical… natural way to go about things.”

Glen chuckled as the elf colored a little, “You’re not a very natural person. And I mean that as a compliment. Dragons and little folks are natural… enemies…” He trailed off and Gill had a feeling realization was dawning. Was he figuring things out?

There followed a bit of awkward empty air before Lana piped up, “I think Glen put that well. You’ve come a long way and done so much. More than others would. I’m glad you chose to try for none-violence to deal with the situation.”

Gill felt more awkward than ever, not sure how to take the positive reinforcement, “Thank you both… It’s… I appreciate your words more than you can understand.” He pulled nervously at the grass, wanting this to stop but also happy to feel validated, “It… It’s… yeah. Means a lot. But…”

He took a breath. Where on earth did they go from here? Gill closed his eyes, feeling the mental fatigue pressing down. To have been burdened with heavy news to bring back to his friend’s family, only to find the most important one to him taken… the time getting here, the arguing with both of them against him. All of it.

“...But?’ Lana prompted.

Gill shook his head, “Um, just… I’m just, horribly, horribly burnt out. It’s been a wild time and I think I need to sit under a cold waterfall, drink more, eat more, and maybe not think about this whole mess for a few hours. I’m also all argued out.”

The ground trembled as Glen chuckled, “All worn out ‘eh?”

Gill glared up at him, “We’ll revisit the argument, I promise.”

“Sure, sure,” Glen replied flippantly, “But I agree, you need to take some time to unwind and put off the burden for a little. Just clarify for me, it took you how many weeks to get here?” Annoyed, Gill almost didn’t grace that with an answer. But then he replied, “I got to town in the morning two days after you took Lana and set out that afternoon after getting supplies.” “Mm.. so about two weeks… a couple days over or so. And.” the dragon went on, “What was the short-cut you took?”

Gill blinked a couple times. “Well, if… “ he looked to the ground near the fire where Glen had raked the grass away, upending it and revealing dirt.

Going over on his hands and knees, using his right side gingerly, Gill began drawing, “I’m well traveled as I’ve said a few times. I’ve been in this area before, years ago. I understand different terrain very well, enough to guess what I’m getting into anywhere I go. I…” he drew with the end of one burnt log, the ash helping to mark the large map, and explained, showing the safest routes, marking the marshy terrain he had delved into in order to make up time.

“Mm, yes..” Glen watched with interest. Lana watched with puzzlement, “And that’s honestly insanely well made up time. You expected to get here within two weeks on your horse taking the usual route?”

“No I was going to cut through a couple places. She’s extremely surefooted.” And there was a reason for his confidence in that. Gill showed the route he had planned to take, cutting into places normally hazardous for hooved beasts.

“Ah, yes.”

The “yes”s were feeling patronizing at this point. Was he missing something the dragon saw?

“Yes.” Gill confirmed with slight irritation, “So? Why did you want to know all this?”

“How many people could you confidently say could cut any distance enough to get close to say, getting here in three weeks? Most of those places… well, it is a risk for the average horse.”

“Hm.” Gill looked back down, tracing the full route, “I don’t follow this questioning of yours.” He glanced sidelong at the dragon, “What are you getting at?”

Glen shrugged, “You seem to think people can get here normally within a three week period, since you say people will be showing up around seven days from now.”

He had to blink at that, “Isn’t it a three week ride?”

“Even if you know how to track a dragon, not actually.” Glen said smugly, “Also, this area here.” he poked with his tail tip, “There was a rock slide last year which’ll slow people down more.”

His tired brain spun a few times trying to calculate, then gave up, “I’m sorry, what?” Gill felt he had hit a wall in

his reasoning.

Lana came over and put a hand on Gill’s forehead, looking into his eyes, “I can’t do the math,” she said, peering searchingly, “But safe to say it’ll be more than a week before people start showing up.”

Gill peered back at her, not sure what she was doing, “Oh… ohhhh,” he got it a little, “Oh. I see... I see, I see.”

“So,” Glen ducked his head low to make eye-contact, “You have plenty of time to take a break and recover before we revisit the reason you’re here. For now, just take a few breaths and-”

“Gill, you feel really clammy.” Lana said suddenly.

Gill could read the alarm in her eyes, but didn’t quite see the issue.

“I…” He what? “Well. I certainly feel like I’m having a mental break.”

“And pale as a ghost. You should lie down.” Lana suggested, half helping, half pushing him onto his side, then his back, “Glen give us some shade, please.”

“Oh, oh my, what’s happening?” Glen did as told, spreading out a wing over them, “Is this like the panic attack?” he asked anxiously, “What’s a mental break?”

“I can rest…” Gill said faintly to no one in particular, “I can stop working and take a break.”

Lana brushed the hair off his forehead, “Yes Gill. You can take a break. It’s okay. We’re going to take care of you and let you rest. Do you want to sleep?”

“I feel sick.”

“Just close your eyes, Gill,” Lana watched anxiously even as she kept her voice calm, “Just let go, it’s going to be alright. You’re okay. You’re okay.”

Gill reached up and took her hand, “I’m not okay, Lana. I’m unbelievably not okay.” the strain, stress and grief all squeezed to the surface. His eyes stung and his head hurt from trying to hold it in.

“Just rest, Gill,” Lana assured him, “Just rest. You’ve been wonderful, you’re better than any knight out there and you did so well, just… take a respite…”

She trailed off, then began to gently sing, a simple lullaby. Her voice enveloped Gill in warmth, and quietly he began to cry. The tears leaked out and he threw his arm over his eyes to hide it. Lana ran a comforting hand through his hair, continuing to sing until after he passed out.

#dragon #dragons #princess #princesses #elf #elves #fantasy #adventure #hero #knight #knights #glen #lana #gill #adventurer

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dansnaturepictures · 11 months

Text

11/11/23-Farlington Marshes

Photos taken in this set: 1. The reedbed. 2. One of a few delicate and absorbing charms of the reedbed which we were fortunate to see today, a neat male Bearded Tit. I love seeing these birds and it was a very pleasurable few minutes watching them with male and female seen, seeing them flit around in the reeds with the lovely see-saw moments as the reeds bent and lowered under the bird's weight. It was magical just seeing the reeds moving in moments they dropped down out of view too. 3. Chamomile. 4, 5, 9 and 10. Beautiful views here, it was notable to take in the water at the lake among the fullest I've seen it after recent weather with the water rising through a fence, some delicate clouds floating over the landscape in blue bits of sky, creamy sky scenes as the sun sat just behind clouds illuminating the mudflats with the tide out below and nice views of the Spinnaker Tower. 6. A bird I had really hoped to see here today, my first Brent Geese of the season with Canada Geese behind, I love the brents it was so key to my interest building when I was left spellbound by watching the spectacle of hundreds flying over here in my early birding days as a kid. They are one of my favourite autumn and winter visitors and autumn and winter would not be the same without them, a key bird here so it was really good to welcome them back. I got a brilliant view of some flying over closely at one point. 7. A Kestrel we got fine views of as it landed on the wood of the viewing area which I'd not seen before. Great moments with a bird I'd had a good year for. 8. Another bird I am honoured to have seen today, a dignified and ravishing Short-eared Owl which paraded with characteristic low flights over the rich grassland coming amazingly close and it was astonishing to see it sat on the post which I'd not seen here before. We've been spoiled with how well and how many times we've seen them here in 2023 and also towards the end of 2022 once and how often we've seen them over the past seven years and today was one of the most powerful experiences seeing them.

Today got me thinking that Brent Goose, Bearded Tit and Short-eared Owl for me are the three main stars of this fantastic nature reserve which is close to my heart and another of the key species to see here in winter which I associate with the reserve a lot is Pintails and I was also so pleased to see them today a key winter duck. I feel so lucky to enjoy all of these four key species here in a day. Other key birds seen today were a few Linnets, another one that's become a key Farlington species and another of my favourites Marsh Harrier, Wren, Robin, Blackbird, Grey Herons, Little Grebe, pleasingly loads of Lapwings, Redshank, Teal, Gadwall, Shovelers flying and the Barnacle and white goose that are often here and hanging out together. Rabbit, hogweed, gorse, wild parsnip or fennel and teasel seed heads were also nice to see. Energetic bursts of Cetti's Warbler calling was lovely too. It was great to speak to many others including people we've met before watching the birds today.

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chocolate-terminal · 2 years

Text

Tomorrow

I’m sorry for how little I’ve been writing to you recently.

This terminal was meant to keep you (us) warm before winter, but given the amount of time I took before posting, I can’t help but feel I failed you.

At the same time, I’m not worried. You sweetly initiated night; may it be a sweet day to you; leaving me with the most beautiful parting words - and sights. Never have I seen silence so fair.

I rested a bit, spent way too much time playing video-games (better coping mechanism than drinking right?), hurt myself doing pushups (Currently, I can only do about- 5 in a row - physical strength’s not my forte.), and caught up with a friend. Also fixed up my sleep cycle, a process I need to periodically engage in, which coupled with winter cold, left me exhausted.

That’s the normal part.

Edit: New info in bold, after the stem cells paragraph. Edit: Updated info

Latest Edit: On fourth reading, I realized that these comorbidities on my uncle medical certificate are probably just things to check for - conditions that have a statistically significant (not necessarily high) chance to accompany something else. (ie: symptoms, another condition.)

Basically guesses for the diagnostic of his symptom.

New Info coming in as I write this edit:

Pulmonary Arterial Hypertension confirmed by his wife. (I’m not sure if she actually understood the question as an actual disease name or just as the sum of the affected systems. I’m not the one who asked.)

___

Edit: I will delete this entire post and the other related posts in a few days. It’s much too somber. That’s not what I want this place to be. (In fact, I will delete everything but these things I had planned on telling you.)

It’s been a difficult couple of week. I thought I was headed for a slow landing, then everything else took a nosedive - A storm waiting in its own shade for the opportune time.

Last week it was one of my aunt. A nurse who lives in Torrance. I’ve only known her for a couple of years, and I don’t feel much kinship toward her, but still, I don’t want her dead. Faintness. At work. Couldn’t breathe properly. Sounds minor? Still lead to a light operation, a month later, for fear of worsening.

Not open-hearted. Uncalled for. I think it’s called a laparoscopy. ‘keyhole surge-ry’. They insert a sort of probe. Everything went fine. Modern medicine’s pretty amazing.

Sometimes.

My uncle, from Israel. same symptoms. Yesterday, couldn’t breathe properly. Except worst. Had to be rushed to the ER. He’s able to speak again now.

No operation in sight. So I guess everything will be fi..

Doctor prognostic, pessimistic.

My uncle isn’t young. 74 years old. Still a sharp mind, if all too attached to the old forms. He used to be a surgeon himself. Hospital Professor: Stomatology department. Multiple medical inventions to his name.

Also a Dentist. Fun times :D

“I think he hasn’t measured the gravity of the situation.”

His words.

Asked that we fly over to him, said he would book planes tickets, wanted to see us one last time before he passed away.

Wait, surely it can’t be that bad if he’s speaking entire sentences, right?

Wrong.

Pulmonary Arterial Hypertension.

PAH for short.

A “Progressive” Disease. (Degenerative is what I call it.)

youtube

I really hope I’m wrong. Really hope it’s “only” a myocardiac hiccup. Perhaps, that hoarseness I heard on the phone is “only” labored breathing.

But then, why would the doctors be so bleak?

To sum it up:

Ultimately, the long-term prognosis for patients with PAH remains poor, with an unacceptable high mortality rate of almost 40% over 5 years.

- "The Myth of the Stable Pulmonary Arterial Hypertension Patient”, Extract.

The title alone will make your heart stop. (Why am I so calm through all of this? I used to be so close to my uncle..)

Doctors say there are no cure. Only treatments. Only, Freezing the sun so that the quadrant does not strike midnight.

Even a successful lung transplant is no panacea:

For all lung transplant recipients, overall unadjusted survival rates were 79% at one year, 63% at three years, 52% at five years, and 29% at 10 years

So I did my thing. I went on researching.

I used my little book of magic medicines words:

Gene-Therapy, Hyperbaric Oxygen Therapy, Stem Cells, Artificial [Insert Organ Name] Transplant. 3D Printing.

(Add a spoonful of Algorithmic Magic Dust, to get your search results to rise properly.)

All potentially promising. Stem Cells the most:

Clinical researchers in Germany recently reported the first successful treatment of pulmonary arterial hypertension (PAH) using a human umbilical cord mesenchymal stem cell (HUCMSC)-derived therapy.

[...]

PAH is a progressive illness characterized by chronically elevated blood pressure in pulmonary circulation that can lead to right-sided heart enlargement and failure. In advanced stages, PAH is considered non-curable.

[...]

While the findings suggest that HUCMSC-derived therapy has the potential to become an efficient treatment for the most severe forms of clinical PAH, the team assumes that such a therapy must be repeated at regular intervals in order to be successful long term. Investigators believe that prospective clinical studies are warranted to confirm and further explore the benefits of HUCMSC-derived therapy for PAH.

As a sidenote - Stem Cells is usually the best magic word in my experience.

Edit: This is amazing. PLEASE DEVELOP THIS FASTER!

Looking at the medical certificate. Respiration wise, the most likely culprit is Idiopathic pulmonary fibrosis:

The survival rates of IPF patients 1, 2, 3, 5, and 10 years after IPF diagnosis were 84.5%, 77.4%, 71.9%, 62.9%, and 48.4%, respectively.

So I was pretty close, but not quite on point. Also a “progressive” disease, also idiopathic (precise cause unknown), pulmonary disease, but he himself said his heart wasn’t working right, and I can see that he got checked by those department as well.

Edit: The comorbidities. Please tell me those are just things to check for. Not actually present ones.

I’m not really the denial kind - but I really hope I’m reading this certificate wrong.

---

You might be wondering why I tell you all this.

I think I just wanted to tell you because you’re my Friend, (among many other things), and even silent, it feels good to talk to you at a time like this.

I think I did that terminal mostly for me. (Although I’ve got a couple things I really wanted to show you)

May we soon drink things happier than these bitter waters!

Edit: I am still hoping these comorbidities are just things to check for - conditions that have a statistically significant (not necessarily high) chance to accompany something else (ie: symptoms, another condition.)

Otherwise, if this isn’t the case, I cannot in good conscience claim anything but pessimism. It’s just so much, I’m not even writing the cursed list down. I’ll just say this:

When he was younger, he used to smoke. A lot.

Oh and, long as it is, this post doesn’t count. It’s an emergency release valve. Is that Ok Doctor?

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saeyoungs-angel · 2 years

Note

Hey lovely, if you don’t have too many asks id like to request shota or denki with a partner that struggles with depression, mainly with taking care of them selves in this. like hygiene, getting out of bed or doing anything really. denki or shota help them do little things that. i think you know what i mean so just write it how ever you want or don’t, if you are uncomfortable with this.

⨳ punctilious — mha

starring. aizawa & you

plot. you may think you’re slick, but your boyfriend pays attention to everything. this includes the lack of care that you’ve shown yourself, recently.

genre. comfort, fluff

cw. mentions of depressive episodes and depressive behaviors

notes. god i am so sorry it took me so long to get to this, my writers block is so fuckin bad rn but i managed to finish it! i hope u see this since i cant tag u and idk if ur following me but if u do then i hope u enjoy it:)

likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated! <3

𓆩☆𓆪

“(y/n), this is the fourth day in a row that you’ve slept in so late.”

you grumble in your half-asleep state, swiftly snatching the blanket he had so rudely stolen from over you. you tuck it back underneath your weary arms and roll away from aizawa.

huffing, you reply in a slurry manner. “tired, shota. didn’t get enough sleep.”

he hums, tilting above you to reach your furrowed eyebrows—he softly thumbs the crease forming in between them.

“stop that, you’ll look old.” he chides, feeling a bit hopeless with your attitude. he knows very well that your sleeping pattern has been through the ringer this past week, and he also knows he can’t force you to fix it.

that said, he still stubbornly wants to try.

“hey, sweetheart. if you get up now, we’ll go to a cat cafe. how’s that sound?”

your eyes fly open, only to dim moments after.

“not feelin’ it today, sorry sho.”

now, aizawa isn’t surprised by much, but this? this has him reeling on the inside. you never turn down an invite to a cafe, let alone one filled with cats.

something is amiss, definitely. though he’d like to speak with you about it directly, he’s worried that you’ll close yourself off even more—it’s not like you never confide in him, but you’re obviously keeping something from him.

he decides to let you rest, offering him enough time to consider his options.

when the sun begins to set, aizawa grows concerned. why are you sleeping so late now? with only solicitous thoughts of you clouding his mind, he shuffles quickly towards your shared bedroom.

creaking the door open, he finds the lights still untouched. “sweetheart?”

his eyes adjust, tracing the outline of your face that’s illuminated by your phone light—which isn’t very bright, probably because you’ve been in the dark all day long.

“hm? oh, sorry. i got stuck on social media.” you end your excuse with a light laugh, not even inching to shut of the device while your eyes lay on him.

he shakes his head and dismisses your words, moving to seat himself on the edge of the bed closest to you. he grasps your hand in his, smiling at you in concern.

“you haven’t been out of the room today, you know? it’s eight o’clock already.”

his voice brings silence with it, you averting your eyes as you can sense what’s ahead of you. scrolling on your phone, you distract yourself unsuccessfully.

“is there something you want to tell me?”

your scrolling pauses for a brief moment, just before you regain yourself and continue. your heart is by your feet and you have no idea where you should take the conversation now.

“i’m—i, uh. fuck, sho. i’m having trouble, alright? that’s all, and i’ll be okay in time. don’t worry about me, please.”

the last sentence drops from your lips and aizawa worries more than ever—those words always come from someone that needs to be worried about.

“quit it. i’m here to help you, not scold you or something. i’m your boyfriend, (y/n), not your mother. i can’t do anything if you refuse my help, but i’m asking you to let me help you.”

your scrolling doesn’t pause this time, it ceases completely. you shut off your phone, the room dimming before you reach for the lamp and switch it on. your vision is a bit blurry and you’re trembling ever-so-slightly, but you respond.

“okay.” with a shaky voice, you nod your head in extra confirmation.

aizawa’s lips turn upwards just lightly, “then it’s a deal. just one more thing, though. i need you to work with me, you have to try, alright? i’ll be here with you for every step, but i need you here as well.”

that’s how it started, you and aizawa both working to turn your episode upside down. two is better than one, right?

“hey, time to get up. i gave you an extra hour, so i expect a kiss after you shower and brush your teeth.”

you sneer, hating the fact that he knows you would’ve preferred to stay in bed and skip those things.

“why not now?” your tone is playful, yet he answers you honestly.

“because it’ll also be a reward for you, sweetheart. now get up, we’re going for coffee.”

the moment the toothpaste reaches your mouth, you gag lightly. after some time without tasting it, the feeling it leaves on your tongue is unfamiliar—aizawa is immediately by your side, brushing his teeth with you.

staring at him through the wide mirror, you smile to yourself. having someone next to you doing the exact same thing effortlessly may not be super comforting, but as he smiles back towards you the world seems just a bit brighter.

he snags your attention through the reflective surface, pointing from you to himself. your eyes leer on him as he counts on his fingers to a certain number, then switches his toothbrush to the other side. he wants you to repeat it, that much you can tell.

as you follow his actions, you turn it into a tiny game for yourself. thirty seconds, done. thirty seconds, done. thirty seconds, done. thirty seconds, aaand completely done.

“that wasn’t so hard, right angel?” he smiles down at you as you flip him off sarcastically.

“actually, it’s easier than i remember it. that might be because you’re here, though.”

critical hit, 98 damage dealt to shota aizawa!

𓆩☆𓆪

feedback is extremely meaningful!

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bbgem329 · 3 years

Text

Things Are Never As They Seem… Chapter Five

Pairings—Sebastian Stan x Actress!Reader, Sebastian Stan x OFC (PR relationship)

Summary

You and Sebastian Stan have been dating privately for over two years. Everything is perfect until he is coerced into a PR relationship when he signed with a new agency to advance his career. Trouble ensues…

Warnings

MINORS DNI! 18++. Fluff. Smut. Angst. Language. Unprotected sex. Rich bitches. Soft! Needy!Seb.

Series Masterlist

—————

August 13, 2020

You let out a soft laugh as you stepped out the bathroom to find Sebastian now sprawled across the entire king sized bed.

He was laying on his stomach, rosy cheek pressed to the pillow, chestnut hair flying every which way, and little snores spilling from his parted lips.

The sight alone was enough to stir something deep within you—warmth, comfort, love, lust.

The latter growing as your eyes lazily traced down his bare, toned back to the top of his firm behind just barely peeking out from the thin sheet covering him from the waist down.

He looked so soft and serene in the morning light. All the stress and worries washed away in his content slumber, leaving him to appear a lot younger than he actually was.

You knew you should be lying there beside him, absolutely dead to the world. Especially after all the love he’d made to you the previous night and the two times he’d woken you from a deep sleep to go at it again in the early hours of the morning.

But you’d forgotten to close the curtains, so you’d awoken with the sun. And recently you weren’t adjusting to the time change as easily as you had on previous trips, so full nights sleep had become scarce over the past few days.

You knew you should let him be. He needed the rest. From what he’d said, he hadn’t slept well enough since he’d left NYC—before he left you.

But you physically couldn’t wait anymore.

You’d been up for over three hours now planning the best birthday celebration that one possibly could on such short notice and you were far too excited to hold off on giving it to him any longer.

Loosening the tie on your robe, you let the silky fabric slip from your shoulders and fall to the floor to pool around your freshly painted toes.

Maintaining light, quiet steps you made your way to the side of the bed and carefully pulled back the sheet to reveal his cute, bare ass.

Careful not to jostle him, you placed one knee on the bed before throwing your other leg over his hip to straddle his backside.

You could already feel the slick pooling between your thighs as your hands skimmed up the smooth skin of his back to his broad shoulders.

“Good morning.” You whispered, leaning down to press your bare chest to his back, littering his shoulders and neck with soft, light kisses.

Sebastian stirred slightly, a groan tearing from his lips as he shifted to bury his face into the white, fluffy pillow.

“Time to wake up, birthday boy.” You breathed out against his warm skin, one hand sliding up to tug at the roots of his tousled locks.

“Mmm.” He moans, wiggling and fishing beneath you as you nipped playfully at the skin between his shoulder and neck. “Tired.”

“But I have so much planned.” You grinned, tongue darting to lick a long strip up his neck, causing his entire body to shudder beneath you. “Promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

This seems to pique his interest because he turned his head, one sleepy cerulean eye and half a sly smirk peeking out from behind the pillow.

You laughed softly before pressing a long kiss to his flushed cheek, followed quickly by a short peck to the side of his nose.

“But I guess if you would rather sleep,” You shrugged, moving to slide off of him. “Then who am I to deny you? You are getting older. I suppose now that you’re an old man, you need more sleep-”

A squeal slipped from your lips as you were yanked back and pinned forcefully to the bed, Sebastian’s nude form hovering over you.

“Did you just call me old, baby?” He asked, tongue darting out to wet his lips as his hooded, dark eyes trailed hungrily down your bare body.

You giggled, bottom lipped worried between your teeth as you reached up to comb his untamed hair out of his face but before you could even make contact, one large hand snapped up to wrap around both your wrist, effortlessly pinning them to the bed.

“Seb.” You whined, head thumping back into the pillow as your legs lifted to loop around his waist. “I had a plan. I need to be on top.”

“Oh, yeah?” He chuckled, steel blue eyes sparkling with mirth. “And what did this plan entail?”

“It’s supposed to be a surprise.” You huffed, lips pulled down in a cute pout. One you knew he never could resist. “You’re ruining it.”

“But I need you, baby.” He groaned, falling forward so his weight rested entirely on you before burying his face in the crook of your neck. “And what the birthday boy wants, the birthday boy gets.”

You gasped, struggling beneath his large body only to gasp louder when you wiggled too far down and his hard cock brushed against your dripping slit.

“Sebastian.” You breathed out, voice higher and shakier than you intended it to be, chest heaving and heart stuttering as you rubbed your feet along the backs of his thighs and ass. “Wanted to suck your dick before breakfast.”

“You already did that last night.” He mumbled, a soft groan breathed out against your skin as he sucked softly on that sensitive spot just below your collarbone. “Wanna be inside you. Wanna cum inside you.”

You couldn’t stop the moan that spilled from your lips, even if you tried. Not with the fifth spoken against your skin or the way the fat head of his cock was brushing so perfectly against your clit with every needy rut of his hips.

This man—your lover, was insatiable.

Incorrigible.

And he could never—would never be able to get enough of you.

Thank the fucking lord you were a master at taking your birth control because with the way you went at it, you would’ve had at least three kids by now.

Not that Sebastian would’ve minded. He often talked about how sexy you’d look carrying his babies.

“You’re so wet, baby. Know you need it too.” He whispered, nibbling gently on the lobe of your ear. “Remember how I made you cum on my cock last night? How I got you to squirt all over me with just my mouth?”

You shuddered at the memory, a pitiful whimper slipping from your bitten lips.

How worked up and over sensitive he had you from the way he used his mouth on you before he took you rough and hard.

How he’d flicked and pinched your poor little nub as he railed into from behind it, nothing but the sound of skin slipping and your intermixed moans and grunts echoing throughout the room for hours on end.

How feral he’d turned, effortlessly manhandling you in every which position as he lost himself completely in your body.

You felt hot—body beyond blazing at the thought of last night alone.

You hated being away from him but if he made love to you like that upon every reunion, maybe you could get used to this distance thing again.

“So, so wet.” He groaned, hand slipping between your bodies to grasp the base of his cock, circling the leaking tip around your aching hole. “Could just…” He pressed slowly in, moaning softly as your walls eagerly sucked him in, “Slip right in.”

“Oh. Sebastian.” You cried out, legs tightening around his waist, heels pressing into his lower spine as you arched your back, allowing him to slip even deeper. “Fuck, please.”

“I know, baby.” He cooed, voice husky and low, “I’ll take care of you.”

With that, he pulled back until only the tip of his cock remained for snapping his hips forward, thrusting his length as far and deep as it could possibly go.

Sebastian set a steady pace, his body pressed impossibly close to yours and his thrust slow but deep. With every deliberate flex of his hips, the nearly trimmed hair adorning his mound brushed deliciously against your blushing nub and his cock rubbed perfectly along that spongy spot within you.

“Feel so good, baby.” He mumbled, one hand skimming up your thigh, positioning it higher on his waist to adjust the angle of his thrusts. “Always so good for me.”

“Oh, god.” You moaned, head lolling to the side as your eyelashes fluttered against your rosy cheeks. You were struggling to keep your eyes open, the pleasure budding inside you building with each plunge of his cock into your warm, velvety walls. “Sebastian.”

“Fuck.” He grunted, eyes rolling back into his head as your walls began to tighten around his twitching length. “Squeezing the life out of me.” His grip tightening on your wrists, hips grinding harder into you, each brush of his pubic hair against your sensitive clit causing the coil within your navel to tighten rapidly. “You’re so sexy, baby. Love you so much.”

“I love you.” You gasped out, chest heaving and heart beating rapidly as you arched your back further, lifting your hips in attempts to meet his deliberate thrusts. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

Sebastian leaned forward to bury his face in the crook of your neck, licking and sucking at the skin residing there, his pace never faltering as he mumbled words of praise and love against your skin.

A few more thrusts and you were falling over the edge, it happened so abruptly and without warning. A soft cry of his name and you were gushing all over his cock, clenching down on him so tightly that he could barely pull out before your greedy hole was sucking him right back in.

“Jesus Christ.” He grit out, jaw clenched and chest heaving as his own thrusts began to falter and an all too familiar pressure began to build at the base of his spine. “Fuck. Holy fuck…”

He tried to hold back, tried to push through it but the way your warm, wet walls were pulsing around his hard length, the utterly fucked out expression on your face, and the sweet, sweet sounds spilling from your lips were far too much.

“Y/N.” He called out, voice pained and breathless, eyes squeezed shut as his hips stuttered as if they had a mind of their own. “Y/N.”

The look on his face was almost enough to make you cum again.

The glow of the soft morning light across his flushed skin, the furrow in his brows as he concentrated, the way his pink lips parted in a string of moans and grunts, and the way his muscles contracted with every flex of his hips—arms bulging, abs contorting, chest heaving, and his thick thighs trembling between your own.

His heavy gaze flickered down, catching sight of the way his cock fucked in and out of your quivering hole. The way your cunt swallowed his entire length whole and came out absolutely dripping with your juices, was enough to send him barreling over the edge.

Sebastian gasped out your name as the coil snapped within him, sending waves of pleasure rolling rapidly throughout his body.

He pressed his length as far as he could before letting go, emptying himself and filling you to the brim with his warm, sticky release.

“I love you.” He panted out before collapsing on you, laying limply across your pliant body with his softening cock still buried snuggly inside you.

You chuckled softly, lifting your now freed hands to brush tenderly through his tousled locks and down his slick back. You lifted your head to press a kiss to his temple, “I love you too. Happy birthday.”

He lifted his head from your chest to give you a sleepy, boyish grin, shifting just slightly to connect his lips to yours in a sweet, slow kiss.

“So,” He chuckled, tongue darting out to wet his lips, “Don’t think an old man could fuck you like that…”

“Oh my god.” You laughed, head thumping back against the pillow as a bashful blush rose to the apples of your cheeks. “I was messing.”

“Nope.” Sebastian smirked, “Not good enough.” He dragged your hands away from your face when you tried to cover it, “Need to hear you say it. Otherwise I’m gonna keep you in this bed all damn day and fuck you over and over again until you admit it.”

“I won’t.” You giggled, shaking your head furiously from side to side. “I refuse.”

“Don’t make me…” He growled playfully, sharpened features pressed into a threatening glare as his fingers trailed teasingly along your sides, “Don't make me do it. You and I both know how this ends.”

“I am a strong independent woman. I will not concede to a man-”

You screamed as he dug his fingertips into your waist, skimming them quickly up and down your sides.

“No.” You cried out, wiggling and struggling beneath his large, heavy body, “No tickles. No tickles.”

Sebastian laughed, fingers slipping up to tickle the sensitive skin beneath your arms, relaxing further into you in attempts to keep you pinned to the bed.

“Not fair.” You squealed, struggling to catch your breath as you slapped at his chest and attempted to swat his hands. “Stop. Stop. Please.”

“Say it.” He demanded, a sly smirk splitting across his handsome face, never ceasing his attack.

“Can’t breathe.” You cackled, tears streaming down your face and your breath coming out in short gasps. “Can’t breathe.”

“Baby, we’ve been over this,” He groaned, fingers slowing as they moved to tickle beneath your chin. “If you can talk, you can breathe. Now say it.”

“Kay.” You cried out, falling limply beneath him, “Sebastian Stan. You’re not old. You’re sexy and young.”

He drew back his hands, a triumphant grin split across his pink lips, “Now, was that so hard?”

“You’re so young, baby.” You cooed, wrapped your hands over his shoulders and your legs around his hips before pressing a few kisses to the divot in his chin. “You’re my baby. My sweet, cute, lovey baby.”

The man offered you a mere grunt in response before snuggling back into you, his head resting over your bare breast as his fingers skimmed along the outsides of your soft thighs.

“So what’s next on today’s agenda?” He asked a few minutes later, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Breakfast.”

—————

“Wait, what’s this supposed to do?” Sebastian asked, gazing curiously at the ice roller lying on the edge of the bathtub.

“It’s supposed to boost circulation, help restore radiance, and encourage optimum cell function.” You responded, smearing the face mask across his bearded face. “I just got it a few weeks ago and I’m obsessed.”

He hummed softly in response, tilting his head further back and closing his eyes.

You were sitting comfortable in his lap, knees positioned on either side of his thighs as you worked diligently to give him your very own version of a facial.

After sharing an assortment of fruits, mimosa, and waffles for breakfast in bed, you dragged him to the bathroom for a hot, relaxing bubble bath and spa treatment.

Today was his day, and you were going to give him the full treatment.

Sex, good food, cuddles, facials, massages with special lavender lotion and oils, red wine, and old movies.

You couldn’t necessarily go out with the London covid regulations, so you’d make do with what you had.

He’d definitely needed this kind of day anyways. What with the stress of the PR, the traveling, the hate he’d been receiving, and the preparation for TFATWS.

A little self care, unplugged, would do him some good, and you were more than happy to provide.

“How long does this shit sit in my hair?” He mumbled, lifting his arms to hang over the side of the tub as he watched you paint the green mask across the skin on your own face. “Will my hair smell like this when we rinse it?”

“Mhmm.” You smiled, dipping the brush in the water to clean it before setting it on the table beside the tub. You shifted forward in his lap to run your hands through his silky, wet hair. “A few more minutes. It’s already super smooth.”

“It smells so good.” He sighed contently, eyes fluttering shut as you massaged his roots. “Like coconuts—like you.”

You chuckled, dipping down to brush your nose playfully against his. “Well I do use it a lot so that’s probably why.”

Classical music played softly in the background, a few fresh smelling candles lined the bathroom counter, creating a comforting, warm atmosphere and set the mood right as you worked.

“How are you feeling?” You asked, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips as your eyes traced lazily over his relaxed expression.

“‘O good.” He murmured, lips pressed together and features softened as you worked the ice roller over his cheek. “You’re so good to me.”

“I try.” You whispered, running up and over his forehead.

Sebastian’s face was all moisturized and oiled, you’d used the jade roller and gua sha to relieve tension, sculpt the skin, and increase circulation. You’d combed out his hair, touched up his eyebrows, and cleaned up and trimmed his beard a little too.

If he was already this relaxed and content from the facial and bath alone, he’d be putty in your hands after a good back massage.

“You do.” He smiled softly, snatching your hand up in his and pressing the back of it to his lips, “You take such good care of me and I don’t know what I did to deserve it.” He sighed, steel blue eyes gazing adoringly at you, “To deserve you.”

“You deserve it.” You interjected, voice louder than you intended it to be. You shook your head, placing the ice roller back on the table before wrapping your arms over his shoulders and leaning further into him. “You deserve everything good in the world, Sebastian. I mean it. I am so fucking lucky to be able to call you mine.”

“Nah,” He chuckled, brushing his lips against your temple as he pulled you tighter against his slick chest, your head tucked under his chin. “I'm the lucky one. Sometimes I’m terrified that you’ll wake up one day and realize you can do so much better than me.”

“Sebastian.”

“If you saw yourself through my eyes, you would understand.” He breathed out, warm fingers skimming tenderly up and down your back. “You’re just...” His voice cracked slightly and you tilted your head to gaze up at him, “You’re just so beautiful and kind. Your heart is so big and there isn’t a selfish bone in your body. There is nobody like you—no one that fits with me like you do, and,” He sniffled softly, hand scrubbing down his face, “I can’t lose you, baby.”

“You won’t.” You declared, shifting up to cup his face between your hands, “You won’t lose me. I only want you.”

“I just am so scared that this PR is going to tear us apart.” He whispered, eyebrows furrowed and lips pulled down in a frown. “It’s already been a little hard and I don’t want this to ruin us. I don’t want you to give up on me.”

“I promised you.” You breathed out, rubbing your thumbs along his flushed cheek. “I promised you it wouldn’t and I mean it. Things will be hard. This entire thing isn’t running smoothly as it is but as long as we keep fighting for us and putting the effort in, we will be okay.”

He exhaled a long breath, any tension and worry that had previously been residing within his body seemed to disappear and he relaxed further into your embrace.

You dipped down to capture his lips in a kiss, one that you hoped assured him that you loved him and meant exactly what you had said—it was you and him. Through it all.

Whatever life threw your way, you were choosing him and you hoped he would continue to choose you too.

“I just need you to know that you’re the only one for me.” He spoke up when you pulled back from the kiss, lifting a hand to cradle your chin between his fingers. “No matter what it seems I only want you. I know that seeing the stunts and the pictures I do with Catalina hurts you,” He gave you a pointed look when you opened your mouth to argue, “don’t even try to deny it, I know you well enough—I know your heart and I know your past. I just need you to know that I would never do anything to jeopardize our relationship or risk losing you for good because you are everything to me, okay?”

You nodded, bowing your head to hide the blush rising to the apples of your cheeks but he forced your gaze back up, pressing a quick kiss to your lips.

“I don’t trust her, pretty girl.” He admitted, sharpened features scrunched up in a pained grimace, “I don’t want her to try to get between us because she’s jealous of you.”

“Why would she be jealous of me?”

“Because you’re amazing.” He declared quietly, cerulean searching your face, “You have everything she wants—natural beauty, fame, a well known boyfriend, talent, and your own money.” He smiled, brushing his thumb along your jaw, “Your career is taking off, people know your name, and you are loved. You have the perfect image in the eyes of the world and she would kill for that. I just don’t want her to get under your skin, she’s manipulative.”

You scoffed lightly, rolling your eyes, “I hope I never have to meet her then.”

“I hope you don’t either.” He chuckled, “I’m embarrassed to bring her around anyone. She acts like a bratty child when she doesn’t get what she wants.”

“Seriously?” You asked skeptically, lips trapped between your teeth.

“Yeah.” He shakes his head, tugging a hand through his hair. “I feel more like a paid babysitter than a paid boyfriend.”

You threw your head back with a laugh, causing a big, brilliant grin to split across Sebastian’s face.

A new found warmth and pride spread throughout him like a wildfire and his heart nearly beat right out of his at the sight of your delight and pure happiness.

Nothing made him happier, than making you happy.

And if he could spend the rest of his life, with the sole purpose of trying to make you laugh, he would die a content man.

“But hey,” He whispered, dropping his hands down to rest on either side of your waist. “It’s my birthday and I don’t want to talk about her.” He pressed a kiss to your cheek, “Just wanna focus on me and you.”

“Fantastic idea.” You grinned, quickly pecking his lips, “How about a massage?”

—————

You didn’t get very far into the massage before Sebastian’s phone started buzzing incessantly from where it lay on the nightstand. He was far too out of it and relaxed to even notice, too distracted by your oiled up hands massaging and kneading his tensed muscles.

A quick wipe of your hands on the towel you leaned over to snatch it from where it lay to see his publicist, Elaine, calling.

“Hello?” You answered, putting it on speaker before laying on the sheets beside Sebastian’s limp form.

“Hey, Y/N.” Elaine responded, a nervous edge to her voice, “Is Seb there?”

“‘M here.” He called out, voice muffled by the pillow squished beneath his face.

“Hi, I’m so sorry to bother you. I know you said you wanted to be left alone for the next couple days but,” She let out a heavy sigh, the sound of a pen clicking rapidly echoed in the background. “Catalina stayed in London. And she’s throwing a fit and demanding that you meet up with her to take shots of you both there for proof.”

Sebastian jolted up, snatching the phone from the sheet, an expression of pure anger and annoyance worn openly across his face.

“Absolutely not, El.” He hissed, flopping down to sit on the edge of the bed, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. “I mean, What the fuck? She was supposed to fly to the resort, she has to be there for two weeks before she can get into New York. What the fuck is she doing? She has absolutely no reason to be here.”

“I don’t know.” Elaine huffed, the stress and tension evident in her voice. “She skipped her flight and checked into the same hotel as you. She’s literally on your floor a few doors down.”

“What the actual fuck!” He growled, tugging frustratingly at the ends of his hair. “I told her I was taking these days to see Y/N and to not be fucking bothered.”

You’d never see him so pissed off in all the years you’d been together or even the years before that when you were nothing but friends.

All the hard work you’d done earlier to get him to relax vanished, the tension and stress returning to his body full force and before your mind could catch up you were sliding up behind him, digging your knuckles into the plains of his shoulders and neck, and trailing kisses along to the top of his spine.

“I am so sorry, Sebastian.” El mumbled frantically, “We tried to talk her down, negotiate, and send her on her way but she isn’t listening. She won’t stop until you meet her to take a few pictures in the street.”

Sebastian’s entire body deflated, his head hanging forward in defeat as Elaine continued to apologize profusely and rant about Catalina’s unnecessary fit.

“It’s okay, baby.” You mumbled against his skin, scratching your nails gently down his back in attempts to sooth him. “It’s alright. Go take the damn pictures. Get it over with and come back to me.”

He huffed out a breath, shaking his head as his frown deepened and his brows furrowed further.

“She’s causing everyone an entirely unnecessary amount of stress, honey.” You muttered solemnly, lifting a hand to comb back his hair. “She won’t stop until she gets what she wants. Just do it and when you come back I’ll make sure you don’t have to think about her again until you're on that plane Sunday.”

“I’m still here.” El screeched, making you and Sebastian both to giggle. “I’m gonna wash my ears out.”

“Hey!” You chuckled, shooting Sebastian a playful wink, “At least I didn’t go into detail.”

“Fine.” Sebastian groaned, scrubbing a hand down his face once more before rising to his feet. “Tell her for five minutes. That's it. I’ll meet her in the lobby.”

“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” El breathed out, “You are my lifesaver. And again, so sorry to bother you. You know I wouldn’t have if I had a choice. And Y/N/N, I miss you. Hope you’re doing good.”

“Thanks, El.” You giggled, “Miss you too! We will catch up soon! Make sure to look out for my boy when I’m not around.”

“Always.” She laughed, “Talk to ya soon.”

“Fuck.” Sebastian belted out, dropping his head in his hands once Elaine had hung up. “Fucking fuck.”

“It’s okay.” You soothed, slipping off the bed and trekking quickly across the soft rug to wrap your arms around his waist.

“It’s not okay.” He grit out, one hand wrapping around your waist as the other pinched the bridge of his nose, his head tilted up. “What the actual fuck is wrong with her? She has no concept of the term no. She doesn’t understand that not everything is about her all the fucking time.”

“Hey.” You shushed him softly, rising up on your toes to press a kiss to his jaw. “It’s alright. I’m not mad.”

“I’m so sorry.” He mumbled, shaking his head. “I’m so fucking sorry. I ruined today.”

“It’s not your fault.” You whispered, cupping both his cheeks, “And you did not ruin today. We still have the evening ahead of us. Once you get back I’ll finish your massage, we’ll make love again, order some pizza, crack open a bottle of wine, and watch some movies, okay?”

He huffed out sigh, leaning into your embrace with a single nod.

“Okay?” You asked again, tilting his face down, forcing him to look at you.

“Okay.” He whispered, bottom lip worried between his teeth. “I promise this won’t happen again.”

“Baby,” You chuckled, offering him a soft smile, “It’s alright. You can’t help it if it does. Not a big deal.” You pat his chest, leaning up to give him one last peck. “Now go, so you can return sooner.”

Sebastian hesitantly released, giving you one last sad look, blue eyes apologetic. An expression that made your heart contort painfully in your chest and the need to console him and protect him flared from deep within.

“Oh, and wear the black t-shirt in my closet.” You called out as he trekked across the room to his bag. He curled a brow at you and you shrugged, “It’s my favorite. It looks so good on you and if you wear it, it’ll smell like you more too. I want it back when you leave.”

He shook his head, a laugh slipping from his pink lips as he pulled over his head.

You watched solemnly from where you sat on the edge of the bed as he quickly brushed his teeth, combed his hair, and slipped on a pair of pants.

“I love you.” He mumbled, dipping down to steal a quick kiss before he left. “I’ll be back.”

“I know.” You whispered, offering him a small smile. “I love you more.”

“Time me.” He winked before disappearing out the door, closing it softly behind him.

You slumped back against the sheets, a loud sigh spilling from your lips.

You couldn’t believe how fast the mood had switched and how tense Sebastian had gotten in such a short period of time.

The fact that this is how he’d been living for the past month and half, and how he’d be living for the next sixteen months left a raw ache in your heart. You couldn’t imagine how he must be feeling and what this must be like for him.

And the fact that you had encouraged him to do this—to pursue this PR, only made you feel worse.

All you could do now for him was support him and stay true to your word.

You’d stick by him through it all, even when things get rough.

And something in your gut told you they would.

—————

Tag list

@justlovelifeblog @inlovewith3 @buckybarnesandmarvel @sleutherclaw @snugglingbucky @perlaluna

#sebastian stan fanfic #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan

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gingersnaaps · 3 years

Text

sandman

to be taken by sleep really isn't such a bad thing - not when osamu's the one waiting in your dreams.

wc: 3.2k

tags/tw's(PLEASE READ): explicit n*fw, dubcon, creampie, breeding mentions, penetration, fingering, sex dreams, sleep paralysis, incubus!osamu vibes, vaguely supernatural, you fall asleep forever at the end, fem!reader with inner genitals

a/n: written for @ultimate-astridwriting's wonderful collab and inspired by my recent stint of sleep deprivation also i feel like i may have strayed a bit from the prompt but oh well

i don’t want minors interacting with my content

You can’t recall when Miya Osamu first started appearing in your dreams.

It was a subtle thing at first: the features of strangers, normally blurred beyond recognition, melded into his half-lidded eyes and soft smile, and you’d catch glimpses of his face in the reflection of windows and out of the corner of your eye. You didn’t think too much of it. You’d read an article somewhere that mentioned how faces in one’s dreams came from the interactions in our real lives, and with how much you’d been frequenting his onigiri shop, you suppose that his appearances were to be expected.

Still felt a little strange for you to be having a dream so intimate, though.

You’re lying on top of his broad chest, one arm on your waist, the other resting gently on your thigh. His thumb rubs tender circles into your skin, stroking softly as you rise and fall with the movement of his chest.

“‘Miya?” you ask tentatively. “How did I end up here?”

He chuckles. It’s a deep, rich, sound, one that reminds you of rivers running steady and full moons in the countryside, the vibrations passing from his body to yours. When he speaks, his voice is low and a little quiet, but with his lips grazing your ear, you don’t miss a single word.

“Call me Osamu.”

The familiarity leaves your face slightly flushed, embarrassment tingling across your skin. He shifts you around in his arms, tilting your body so that you meet his warm, inviting, gaze. The hand on your thigh seems to burn red-hot, and you wonder if he can hear the heartbeat pulsing just inches away from his fingertips.

He smiles softly at you. “You’re a beautiful girl.”

Your heart seizes, malfunctions, pounds erratically-

You wake up in the dark, damp sheets clinging to your skin, heart skipping like a schoolgirl and drunk off the compliment from your dream.

There’s a bad ache in between your legs. You trail a hand down your front, fingers sliding into your pajama shorts to quell your want.

Dusk is falling across Tokyo when you head to Miya’s - no, Osamu’s - onigiri shop. Twilight makes giants of the pedestrians, stretches out the shadows that loom tall in the soft gray-orange of the setting sun, the darkened shapes scurrying through the city’s rush hour.

Unlike them, you’re not going home.

A busy schedule meant little time for home-cooked meals, and the food here really was excellent. When you push open the door to his shop, the jangle of a bell sounds somewhere above you, and Osamu barely looks up before a smile settles on his face.

“The usual, I suppose,” he says, beckoning you inside.

You nod gratefully. The atmosphere of the shop is comforting - there’s just a few customers trickling through, picking up their to-go order that he’s prepared. You pick a seat near the window, one that gives you an unobstructed view of the sunset outside.

The chatter dies down as the last customers leave the shop, their onigiri clutched in hand, and a peaceful silence descends on the space around you. He brings out your food just a few minutes later, setting the dish in front of you.

“As requested by my favorite customer,” he says, a wry grin on his face. “Glad to have you back tonight.”

Your stomach flutters at the closeness between the two of you, and you suddenly feel embarrassed - ashamed of how much you’d been thinking about him, of the dreams you’d been having, of the way his touch had left you wanting for more in those same dreams - but it’s a good kind of embarrassed, one that leaves excitement bubbling in your core.

It feels a bit like a crush.

“Couldn’t miss out on the food, could I?” you reply.

“So you’re only here for my onigiri.”

“I- no, of course not."

“Just teasing.”

He smiles crookedly, and for just a moment, there’s a knowing glint that flashes in his eyes - the kind of expression that makes it seem like he’s aware of more than he’s letting on - but it vanishes almost immediately, passing too quickly for you to be sure of anything.

He turns to go back inside the kitchen, lifting up a hand casually to wave goodbye. “See you soon.”

Upon your arrival home, the first thing you notice is how very tired you are.

It’s not too out of the ordinary - it was a Monday afternoon, after all, and that had always been your least favorite day of the week - but the minute you crash onto the couch, your eyelids seem to droop with sleep, limbs growing heavy as the room around you swirls into a half-conscious haze.

You’ve still got chores to take care of. There’s dishes from the morning to wash, laundry to fold and put away, a few work emails to respond to that were probably very important, but you just can’t seem to stave off the overwhelming fatigue that seeps through your veins and numbs your entire body.

You need to sleep.

So you let it happen. You let your eyes flutter shut, let yourself relax and melt into the soft cushions of the couch, let your mind go nice and blank and empty.

After you give up the struggle of staying awake, the dreams come quickly.

“Glad to have you back so soon.”

The warm, quiet, voice from yesterday rumbles somewhere above you. You’re laying on his chest again, ear pressed to the soft fabric of his faded black shirt. You make a small, confused, noise, but he just laughs, gently brushing aside your hair, a hand trailing down your body and creeping closer to your inner thigh.

His touch feels electric. Every brush of his fingertips against your thigh, feather-light and teasing, leaves you with your heartbeat thudding in your cunt.

“We’ve gotta get you ready,” he murmurs. “Prep you well enough so that you’ll feel good when the time is right.”

You clench around nothing at his words, and maybe he can feel it with his hand so dangerously close to your pussy, because he smiles lazily and asks, “Are you that desperate?”

You’re not sure whether you should deny it - he can probably tell you are, anyway, but the thought of nodding, of saying yes, ‘Samu, want it so fucking bad - it leaves you with your cheeks flushed hot with shame.

He doesn’t need your explicit confirmation to read the way your body twitches against his, though, and he moves his hand lower to cup around your pussy. His palm is warm, the pressure steady and constant as he holds his hand still against your throbbing cunt. You can’t help but squirm against him, sloppily grinding your clit against his waiting hand, bucking your hips back and forth for any friction you can get. You’re panting, breaths quick and shallow as you feel the drag of the cotton panties in between his skin and yours, and a lewd moan tumbles from your lips. “Touch me,” you mumble, voice thick with arousal.

You look so pretty down there, hair mussed and mouth open slack in a perfect o, getting off all by yourself - he should give you a hand, shouldn’t he?

He nudges your damp panties aside, the thin fabric creasing the fat of your pussy as he brings a thumb up to your clit. His ministrations start slow, circling your clit patiently while you writhe from the pleasure, just barely dipping his index finger into your hole, his long, dextrous fingers skilled and patient as he works to search out the sensitive spots that leave you gasping and delirious.

“I want you dripping,” he says softly, sliding his finger inside all the way to the base of his knuckle. “Want you spread out on my hand, soaking me through, wet enough for me to fuck you full.”

You shudder with anticipation at his words, hips wriggling and rutting against his stiffening cock as his finger drags along the ridges of your g-spot. Every movement of his is accompanied by an embarrassingly audible squelching noise, your cunt already swollen and hot with arousal, your slick running in a cool trail down the crease of your thigh.

He flicks his thumb against your clit, this time more harshly. “ ‘m gonna fill you up so good when you’re ready,” he whispers. “Fuck you until your pussy milks my cock dry.”

Your eyelids flutter, a rush of pleasure crashing down on you as he pops another finger inside. Your hand fists at his shirt weakly, grabbing and pawing at the fabric as he curls his fingers just right inside you.

“You’re gonna feel so fucking good, sweetheart.”

You wake up from your dream as an orgasm ripples through your body, eyes flying wide open as you squirm and thrash on the couch. The pleasure coiling tight inside your core unwinds, pulsing in your cunt as you moan.

The room is dark and empty.

You rub the sleep from your eyes, vision bleary as you reach for your phone - it reads 7:00 AM. You’ve slept for almost twelve hours.

As you get up, swinging your legs off the couch and righting yourself, you notice one intense, overwhelming, feeling that roots you to the couch and leaves your limbs limp and loose:

You still feel so tired.

The rest of the week seems to pass by in a blur. You’re so exhausted you can barely think straight, stumbling from your office to your home - and sometimes to Osamu’s onigiri shop - going about your life half-dazed and barely conscious.

The only respite you get is in sleep.

Your dreams have gotten particularly intense as of late, head clouding full of visions where you’re fucked in every position: shoved up against the wall, facedown in the mattress, and even hoisted up on the counter. Through it all, there’s one constant.

Miya Osamu features in every single one of them.

You know his voice by heart now, a low, quiet, rumble that both soothes you and sets your cunt thrumming with anticipation. His silver-gray hair, his round, half-lidded eyes, the softness and the warmth of his body - they’re as familiar to you as your own features by now. You’re pretty sure you’ve even memorized the feeling of his cock buried deep inside you.

In every dream, he whispers the most tantalizing promises in your ear, breathing promises of how he’s gonna fuck you so good, sweetheart, gonna fill you up, gonna breed this pretty pussy until you’re carrying my seed inside you.

And even though you never wake up well rested anymore, you find that you don’t particularly mind. After all, there’s not much you look forward to in your waking hours. Every grating hour you spend working your stupid little job, or attending your lengthy, useless, lectures - it all feels like you’re just going through the motions, like you’re just trying to make it through so that night falls sooner and he can finally come visit you.

The week comes and goes, and soon enough, it’s already Friday.

You stumble in through the front door, a yawn itching at your throat, and you head straight for your bedroom. You pass by the ever-growing stack of dirty dishes in the sink, the stack of bills on the countertop, the laundry you’ve left in the drying machine. You’ll get to it next week.

For now, you just want to sleep.

The bedroom is gloomy and dim, grey light from an overcast twilight filtering through the blinds. The room feels stuffy in the dark, the four walls suffocating the small space, but you don’t bother with turning on the lights. Why would you, when you plan on heading straight to sleep?

You undress clumsily, almost tripping as you pull off your pants and shrug off your blouse, and stagger into the soft, warm, embrace of your bed.

A warm burst of comfort surges through you as the familiar feeling of drowsiness overtakes you. Your eyelids grow heavy, lashes fluttering slightly, the thump of your heart slowing - you’re right on the precipice between the conscious and the unconscious, straddling the border between sleep and waking -

You hear a voice sound from shadowy recesses of your room.

It’s a voice you’d recognize anywhere.

“I missed you at my shop today.”

You open your mouth to respond, but no noise comes out. It’s as if your vocal cords have been plucked from your throat, your voice frozen somewhere deep inside your trachea, and the only sound you can make is that of silence. A bit belatedly, you realize that you can’t move either, your limbs settling uselessly at your side as you lie paralyzed on your back.

A head of gleaming, silver, hair emerges in front of you, and your breath catches in your throat. You’re not sure if this is a dream anymore.

You blink once, and suddenly, you find him in your bed. He’s hovering above you, arms pressed to either side of your head, gazing down with a hungry, hungry, expression. He’s waited all week for this, sweetheart - won’t you finally indulge him?

He pulls the comforter aside, large hands gliding over your body and hoisting up your hips. You feel like a ragdoll in his hands, limp and immobile, and he rearranges your limbs and positions you until he gains easy access to your ready, waiting, cunt - the same cunt that he’s been preparing all week.

He drags a finger through your slick folds, already wet and sticky from the ministrations of the previous few days. There’s no need to bother with prep. He can already feel the way your cunt pulses at his touch, can see the need etched into the gleam of your eyes even as the expression on the rest of your face remains frozen.

His hand glides over his clothed cock, strained and throbbing with need as he pulls it out and strokes slowly, eyes fixated on your body the entire time. His dick is big, flushed almost purple as cream beads at the tip, balls fat and full and heavy.

Osamu’s had enough of waiting.

With a groan, he pops his cockhead into your drooling, twitching, hole, pushing in steady, thrusting all the way into your tightening cunt until he hits your cervix.

“Feels so fuckin’ good,” he murmurs, face scrunched with pleasure. “So tight it feels like you’re trying to milk me dry.”

He rolls his hips slowly, dragging his cock along the front of your walls, the ridge of a vein pressing right into your sweet spot. Your legs twitch uselessly as he pulls halfway out before slamming his cock back in.

“I wonder if you’d like that,” he muses. He brings a thumb to rest at your puffy, swollen, clit, pressing down in steady circles, his touch unrelenting and firm, sending spasms of pleasure that leave you clenching and gripping down onto his thick cock.

“I think you would. I think you’d love it if I filled you up, if I fucked you full of cum and bred this tight little hole,” he says, the barest hint of an amused smile tugging at his lips. His voice is calm and steady - a striking contrast to his filthy words, his brazen promises.

His slow, steady, strokes quicken, hips slamming roughly into yours, each thrust satiating the want in your cunt. Your walls pulse as if they need to be filled, squelching lewdly as he fucks you hard and deep.

He leans down. His lips hover millimeters away from your forehead, just barely grazing your skin with tender, light, kisses. “Take it,” he whispers, thumb rubbing harshly at your clit. “Take it like a good girl for me. I know you can.”

The kisses he presses to your forehead start to travel down the underside of your jaw, soft little nips and bites with his blunt teeth that leaves a trail of his glossy spit on your face. His mouth finds your ear.

“When I cum, you better not waste a single drop,” he breathes. “Wanna fill you up, make you mine. I want to own this pussy.”

He brings his hand down to pat your stomach where your womb would be, rubbing the soft surface of your skin in tender circles. His balls are aching so badly - he needs to cum, needs that release, needs to stuff your messy cunt.

“Cum with me,” he urges. “Right now.”

The pleasure pulsing inside you draws taught - snaps - and you’re pushed over the edge. If you were still capable of speaking and moving, you’re sure you’d be moaning loudly, hips twitching uselessly as he creams your pussy over and over. He fucks you through your orgasm, spent cock softening inside you as you squeeze his dick. After all, he doesn’t want any of it to leak. He wants it sloshing around in your hole, filling you up until you’re warm and wet and sticky, wants to breed you, to mark you down as his.

You look beautiful with your insides stained white, he thinks.

You can feel your cunt twitching slightly as you come down from your high. He smiles warmly, gives your pussy a little pat -

You blink and he’s gone.

Almost as if he was never there in the first place.

Sleep takes you quickly after that. You’re exhausted from being fucked, exhausted from the constant stimulation, and you quickly fall fast asleep. All is silent and still in your darkened bedroom.

The next day, right as the sun starts to drop over the horizon, glinting stars nestled in the sky high above, you find yourself back in front of Osamu’s onigiri shop.

It’s partly due to the hunger gnawing in your stomach, but it’s more out of curiosity than anything. You need to know if it’s real, if he’s real, if the past two weeks were nothing but a fever dream.

And you really want to see him again.

As you push open the door to his shop, you’re greeted with his friendly smile, as usual.

“Same thing again?” he asks.

“Of course.”

The exhaustion hasn’t gone anywhere. You’re still constantly tired, always drifting off during the daytime, limbs weary and worn. When you sit yourself down at the usual spot - the table near the window - that irresistible fatigue seems to creep up on you again.

It’s so calm and comforting in his little shop. The lights are warm, the view is pretty, the quiet chatter of his few customers soothing to your ears. It’s so easy to rest your head in between your hands, shoulders slumping, mind empty of every little unimportant thought, so easy to just close your eyes, so easy to fall into the rose-tinted haze of your nice, pleasurable, dreams.

Osamu comes out of the kitchen in the back of the shop, carrying your food on a plate, and finds you fast asleep with your head on his table.

He’s not surprised. In fact, he’s quite pleased.

In fact, if he has his way, you’ll never have to wake up again.

tyvm for reading!! i really appreciate reblogs and comments - it's part of what motivates me to keep making content :)

here's my masterlist if you'd like more.

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