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littlerainyghoul · 3 months ago

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Steady Hands, Steady Heart

For @nyxtheghoulette

Regressed Dewdrop and Caregiver Mountain Summary: Dewdrop is trapped in the aftermath of a nightmare, panicking as he unintentionally hurts Mountain in his sleep. Filled with guilt and fear, he avoids Mountain, convinced that he’s angry.

Tags and possible trigger warnings: Hurt/Comfort Angst Guilt Vulnerability Nightmare Panic Attack Regression Cuddling

Word Count: 3.5K Read on Ao3

Dewdrop wasn’t happy. Not at all.

Even in sleep, his body refused to rest, caught in a restless cycle of tossing and turning, his limbs twitching with every flicker of the nightmare that refused to release its hold on him. A low, distressed whine slipped from his throat, barely audible in the stillness of the room, his claws curling and uncurling against the sheets as if searching for something—someone—that wasn’t there.

Something was wrong. Something was missing.

The nightmare clung to him like thick fog, suffocating and inescapable, pressing down on all sides with a weight that made his limbs feel sluggish, as if he were trapped in something viscous and unrelenting. He could feel the cold creeping into his bones, an unnatural, aching chill that had nothing to do with the temperature of the room, spreading through his body like an infection that no amount of warmth could chase away.

Alone. Lost. Cold.

The fear curled around his ribs, tightening with every uneven breath he took, every desperate call that left his lips only to be swallowed by the oppressive silence surrounding him. He called for Mountain—reached for him—but there was nothing. No warmth. No steady presence at his side. No solid hands to ground him, to pull him out of the darkness. Only the endless, suffocating emptiness that stretched on forever, swallowing him whole.

A soft, broken whimper escaped him as his body betrayed him, his limbs growing heavier with every passing second, his strength draining as though something unseen was taking it from him. He was stuck, trapped, unable to move, unable to run, unable to find what he so desperately needed, his mind spiraling deeper and deeper into panic as the feeling of helplessness wrapped around him like an iron vice.

And then—something touched him.

The shift was instant, his entire body going rigid, his instincts screaming before his mind had the chance to catch up, fear twisting into something sharp and blinding as he jerked upright. His breath hitched, panic surging through his veins like wildfire, his muscles coiling too tight, his body moving before he could think, before he could stop himself—

His elbow swung out, fast and hard.

A sickening thud. A startled, pained grunt.

His eyes flew open.

Everything was too much—too bright, too sharp, too real—and yet, his brain refused to make sense of it, his breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps as his vision swam, his surroundings unfamiliar and suffocating all at once. His heart pounded erratically against his ribs, his claws digging into the sheets as his mind struggled to catch up, to understand—

And then he saw him.

Mountain.

Sitting up, his broad form barely shifting under the weight of the hit, his features still fogged with sleep and confusion as he pressed a large, steady hand to his side where Dew had struck him.

Dew felt the bottom drop out of his stomach, a sickening, lurching sensation that left him lightheaded and dizzy, his breath catching in his throat as his pulse roared in his ears. The panic that had already taken root inside him twisted and morphed into something far, far worse, something sharp and gut-wrenching that made his insides churn with guilt and horror.

He had hurt Mountain.

He hadn’t meant to. He hadn’t even been aware—but that didn’t change the fact that he had done it, had lashed out blindly, had hurt the one person he had wanted—needed—to be there the most.

His breathing turned shallow, too quick and uneven, his body shrinking in on itself as the realization sent another violent wave of nausea rolling through him. He had to fix it. He had to do something—but his thoughts were running too fast, slipping through his fingers like sand before he could grasp onto anything solid, and the only thing his panicked, nightmare-drenched brain could come up with was—

Get away.

He moved without thinking, his limbs feeling too light and too heavy all at once as he scrambled backward, nearly falling off the bed in his rush to put distance between them, his chest tightening painfully as his mind screamed at him to go, go, go.

Mountain’s voice was rough with sleep and concern as he leaned forward slightly, his brow furrowed in confusion. “Dew?”

Dew flinched at the sound of his name, his claws twitching at his sides as his throat tightened, every muscle in his body wound so tight he thought he might snap apart at the seams.

“I—I gotta go,” he choked out, the words barely making it past the tightness in his chest, barely even sounding like his own voice, before his legs carried him forward, and he ran.

He didn’t stop.

Not until he was far, far away.

It didn’t matter that it had been an accident. It didn’t matter that Mountain was too kind to say he was angry, too patient to lash out, too Mountain to hold it against him. Because he must have been angry, right? Even if he hadn’t yelled, even if he hadn’t looked at Dew with anything other than concern, even if he hadn’t—

Dew squeezed his eyes shut, curling his arms around himself, his claws digging into the fabric of his sleeves as he fought the nausea twisting in his gut.

It didn’t matter.

He had hurt Mountain.

Even now, the memory replayed in his mind on an endless, suffocating loop—waking up in terror, his body moving before his mind, the dull, sickening thud of his elbow connecting with Mountain’s ribs, the way Mountain had grunted in pain, the brief flicker of surprise on his face before Dew had bolted from the room like a coward.

The worst part was that Mountain hadn’t even gotten mad. Hadn’t cursed, hadn’t scowled, hadn’t done anything but look at him with sleepy confusion, concern bleeding into his gaze as if he were the one worried about Dew.

And that? That was so much worse.

Because it left too much room for Dew’s mind to fill in the gaps.

Of course Mountain was upset. Even if he hadn’t said it, even if he hadn’t shown it. How could he not be? Dew had struck him, had lashed out like an animal, had run away like a coward without even checking to see if Mountain was okay. Just because Mountain was too kind to hold it over him didn’t mean he wasn’t angry. It just meant he was keeping it to himself, letting it fester, waiting for the right moment to actually let it show.

So Dew needed to stay away. At least for a little while. Let Mountain cool off. Let himself cool off.

And that was exactly what he did.

For the rest of the morning, Dew avoided Mountain like his life depended on it.

He stuck to the farthest rooms in the abbey, keeping his head down, making himself as small and unnoticeable as possible, lurking in the quietest corners where he knew no one would bother him. If he had to be around others, he made sure to position himself near an exit, just in case Mountain walked in.

At breakfast, when Mountain sat down at the table, Dew suddenly wasn’t hungry anymore, the mere thought of sitting near him making his stomach churn. He gripped his plate a little too tightly, his claws scraping against the ceramic as he muttered some excuse and left before Mountain could even look his way.

When he caught sight of Mountain in the hallway—broad-shouldered and steady as always—Dew shrank into the shadows, his steps light and quick, his heart hammering as he pressed himself against the cold stone walls and held his breath until Mountain passed.

When he heard Mountain’s voice from another room, deep and calm as ever, Dew’s ears flattened, his tail curling tight around his ankle as he immediately turned on his heel and went the other way, refusing to risk even a glance in his direction.

He was careful. So careful.

And yet, Mountain must have noticed.

Because more than once, Dew caught him looking.

It wasn’t much—just small, quiet glances, his brow furrowed in a way that Dew knew meant he was trying to figure something out, his head tilting slightly when Dew passed him without a word. At one point, when Dew had been too slow to slip away unnoticed, their eyes met across the hallway—just for a second, just long enough for Dew to see the question there, the faint flicker of something that looked almost like hurt—before he tore his gaze away and fled.

But Mountain never said anything.

And of course he didn’t.

Because Mountain was mad at him.

Because Mountain was just waiting for Dew to get over himself, waiting for the right moment to let the frustration boil over, to tell Dew exactly how disappointed he was, how stupid Dew had been for reacting the way he had.

Dew just had to wait for it to pass.

Right?

Because what if Mountain was mad? What if he’d just been holding it in, waiting for Dew to come to him so he could finally let him have it?

No. Dew would rather keep running than risk finding out.

Unfortunately, Cirrus had other plans.

He didn’t even see her coming. One second, he was slipping through an empty hallway, head down, steps quiet, already planning his escape route. The next, a firm hand snatched him by the collar, yanking him backward with surprising strength.

Dew let out a startled yelp, scrambling for balance, but before he could react, Cirrus shoved him into an alcove, pressing him back against the wall with one hand flat against his chest.

His heart jumped, panic flaring hot in his veins—but when he met her eyes, it wasn’t anger he saw. It was something worse.

Irritation.

Disappointment.

Like she was tired of whatever ridiculous thing he was doing.

“What’s wrong with you?” she asked, her voice clipped, her piercing gaze locked onto his like she could see right through him.

Dew swallowed hard, claws twitching at his sides. “What are you talking about?”

Cirrus rolled her eyes, stepping back just enough to cross her arms over her chest. “Don’t play dumb, Dew. You’ve been skulking around all morning like a kicked puppy. I’ve seen you running from Mountain like he’s out for blood, and spoiler alert, he’s not. So why don’t you quit the theatrics and tell me what’s actually going on?”

Dew’s throat tightened. He looked away, shifting uncomfortably under the weight of her scrutiny. “It’s nothing,” he muttered. “Just—drop it, Cirrus.”

“Not a chance.”

"Dew sighed sharply, frustration bubbling up, but Cirrus didn’t budge. She just stared at him, unimpressed, waiting him out like she always did when she knew he wasn’t being honest.

And, okay, maybe he wasn’t.

But that didn’t mean he wanted to talk about it.

Still, Cirrus wasn’t going anywhere, and Dew knew from experience that she wouldn’t let up until she got something out of him.

So, reluctantly, he gritted his teeth and muttered, “I— I hurt Mountain.”

Cirrus blinked. “You what?”

Dew winced, his tail curling around his leg. “Not—not on purpose, obviously,” he said quickly. “It was an accident. I had a nightmare, and when he tried to wake me up, I panicked and— I elbowed him. Hard.”

Cirrus’ expression shifted slightly, her sharp glare softening just a fraction. But she didn’t say anything, so Dew kept going, the words spilling out before he could stop them.

“I didn’t mean to,” he whispered, voice tight. “But I still did it. And Mountain— he didn’t even get mad. He just looked at me. And I— I ran. Like a fucking idiot.”

Cirrus sighed through her nose, pinching the bridge of it like he was giving her a headache. “Dew.”

He clenched his jaw. “What?”

“You are an idiot.”

Dew’s ears flattened. “Wow. Thanks.”

She ignored his sarcasm. “You do realize Mountain isn’t mad at you, right?”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “You don’t know that.”

Cirrus gave him a deadpan look. “I do know that, because I actually talked to him today. You should try it sometime.”

Dew frowned, something uneasy settling in his chest. “What did he say?”

Cirrus sighed again, her voice softer now, losing its edge. “He’s worried about you, Dew. That’s why he keeps looking at you. He doesn’t care that you hit him—he just wants to know why you’re avoiding him like the plague.”

Dew’s breath hitched, guilt clawing at his ribs.

He had been so sure Mountain was angry. So sure that staying away was the right call.

But what if he had been wrong?

Cirrus must have seen the realization hit, because she nudged his shoulder—gentler this time. “Go talk to him, Dew,” she said, and for once, there was no teasing, no bite to her words. Just quiet insistence. “Before you drive yourself insane.”

Dew swallowed hard, his mind spinning, but deep down, he already knew she was right.

So, before he could talk himself out of it, he took a shaky breath—

Dew had wandered aimlessly through the abbey, his steps slow and uncertain. The weight of everything—the guilt, the worry, the constant feeling that he had done something horribly wrong—hung heavily on his shoulders. He couldn’t stay away forever, but he couldn’t bring himself to face Mountain either.

His heart ached with each passing moment, and he just needed something familiar, something safe.

When he finally found it, the warmth of the fire flickered from the hearth in one of the common rooms. The glow cast soft, inviting shadows on the stone walls, and the crackle of the fire was like a gentle whisper in the quiet room. He hesitated in the doorway, a twinge of uncertainty making him pause. But the warmth, the soft hum of comfort in the air—it pulled him in.

He stepped closer, his body instinctively seeking out the familiar warmth of the fire, a small, hidden part of him craving the comfort it offered. The flames danced brightly, their warmth sinking into his skin, and Dew felt his tension ease just a fraction.

He curled up near the edge of the hearth, knees drawn to his chest, arms wrapped around his legs. The fire crackled, the room’s stillness settling around him like a heavy blanket. He closed his eyes, but it wasn’t enough to block out the heaviness in his chest.

His breathing hitched as something sharp squeezed at his heart again. The guilt. The fear.

His mind raced, and he found himself sinking lower, smaller, as if something inside him was craving the safety of his younger self—the time when things were simpler, when he didn’t have to carry the burden of his own mistakes. His body seemed to respond on its own, a wave of vulnerability rushing over him.

And then, just like that, he was younger.

His chest felt tight as tears sprang to his eyes, his breathing growing faster and more erratic. He was small again, so small and overwhelmed, his body trembling with the weight of everything he couldn’t understand. His hands shook as they clutched his legs tighter, his knees pulled up to his chest in a desperate attempt to feel safe.

A single tear slipped down his cheek, and before he could stop it, the floodgates opened. He buried his face into his knees, muffling the quiet sobs that wracked through his body.

He couldn’t stop it. The flood of emotion, the overwhelming wave of insecurity, guilt, and fear—it all just spilled out.

His mind kept repeating the same thing, over and over: I hurt Mountain. I hurt Mountain. I hurt him.

The fire crackled softly, but all Dew could hear was the pounding of his heart, the quiet sobs that refused to be held back, and the gnawing feeling that he had messed up beyond repair.

“I didn’t mean to,” he whimpered to no one in particular, his voice small and weak, like he was a child again. “I didn’t mean to hurt him… I just wanted to be… be good.”

His shoulders shook with each sob, the young part of him just wanting someone to fix it, to tell him it was okay, to make it right. He didn’t know how to do it himself.

And just as his sobs began to quiet, a soft, steady presence entered the room. The familiar scent of Mountain—warm and comforting—filled the space, and Dew felt his heart skip a beat. He didn’t want to look up. Didn’t want to face him, not like this, not when he was so small and broken inside.

But then, a gentle hand touched his shoulder, and Dew’s breath hitched in his throat.

“Hey, Dew.”

It was Mountain’s voice, low and soothing, as always, full of the kindness Dew didn’t deserve.

Dew’s whole body tensed, but he couldn’t fight the sob that wracked through him. He finally lifted his tear-streaked face, his wide eyes searching Mountain’s as if looking for any sign of anger, any sign that he wasn’t forgiven.

But Mountain’s expression was soft—gentle, even. He knelt down beside Dew, careful not to crowd him, giving him space. His hand remained on Dew’s shoulder, comforting and steady.

“I’m not mad at you,” Mountain murmured, his voice like the warmth of the fire, soothing the raw edges of Dew’s panic. “You’re okay, Dew. You didn’t hurt me. I’m here. You’re safe.”

Dew’s tears only seemed to fall harder at the reassurance, the kindness that filled the space between them. He didn’t know what to do with it. His emotions, his fear, they had been too big for him to carry alone.

“I’m sorry,” Dew whispered through his tears, his voice small and shaky. “I didn’t mean to—hurt you… I just… I just—”

Mountain gently pulled Dew into his arms, wrapping him in warmth, and for a moment, Dew felt like he was back to being small and safe, curled up in his arms like nothing else mattered. His sobs began to quiet as the overwhelming feeling of safety wrapped around him, the warmth of Mountain’s embrace washing away the fears that had been holding him hostage.

“You didn’t hurt me, Dew,” Mountain said softly. “You never could.”

Dew let himself collapse into the comfort of Mountain’s arms, letting the tears flow freely, knowing that, for once, it was okay to be this small, this vulnerable. Mountain wasn’t going anywhere. And maybe—just maybe—he could let go of the fear that had been suffocating him.

For now, that was enough.

He closed his eyes, the quiet of the room lulling him into a space of peace. He felt small again, so small, like the weight of the world had lifted off his tiny shoulders. The overwhelming flood of emotions faded, leaving only the warmth and safety of the moment.

The sobs stopped altogether now, replaced by something softer, something that felt more like a need for comfort than a cry for help. Dew let his body go limp in Mountain’s arms, his hands now clutching at Mountain’s shirt like a small child seeking reassurance.

He felt the instinct to curl up even further, to make himself smaller, to let the security of Mountain’s embrace shield him from everything else. His thumb found its way to his mouth, a soothing gesture from childhood, and he sucked on it absentmindedly, his eyes half-lidded, unable to fully focus on anything but the warmth he felt in this moment.

Mountain didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. He simply held Dew as he was, letting the ghoul’s body relax against his own, feeling the smaller form trembling just slightly, still caught in the remnants of his emotions. Mountain’s hand continued to stroke Dew’s back, a calming rhythm, never once pulling away, always offering comfort. He knew what Dew needed now more than anything: patience.

Dew’s breathing slowed, growing steadier as he sank deeper into the regression. The room around him felt distant, the fire’s warmth still crackling gently beside them, but none of it mattered. All that mattered was the steady presence of Mountain, his solid warmth, his quiet, unshakable support.

His mind, his thoughts, everything about him started to dissolve into a soft, dreamlike state as he regressed fully into the comfort of the moment. His body, still nestled against Mountain, felt so small, so innocent, like a child once again—free from the heavy weight of worry, free from guilt and fear. He could let go now. There was no need to hold onto anything anymore.

“Mounty” Dew whispered softly, his voice muffled in the warmth of Mountain’s chest, barely above a breath. “I feel… safe.”

Mountain’s arms tightened around Dew gently, the promise of safety and protection evident in every movement. “You always will be, Dew. You’re always safe with me.”

#regressed ghouls #agere #eepy #ghost band agere #safe for work age regression #hurt/comfort #regressed dewdrop #caregiver mountain

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littlerainyghoul · 1 year ago

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Mountain of Comfort

Caregiver Mountain and Regressed Dewdrop

For @jimothybarnes

After a particularly gruelling day at work, Dewdrop felt the familiar, overwhelming sensation that signalled the onset of regression. It started as a prickling at the back of the mind, a creeping urge to retreat into the comforting simplicity of a childlike state. Dewdrop knew there was only one place to find solace: with his ghoul pack.

However, with many of them still keeping themselves busy with work and other obligations, Dewdrop's mind raced as he considered his options. Most of the ghouls were either occupied or out on errands. He felt a pang of loneliness, his thoughts swirling into a tempest of anxiety. Just as he was about to succumb to despair, he remembered Mountain. Mountain, with his boundless patience and gentle strength, always had a way of making Dewdrop feel safe.

Mountain was not just a name; he was a personification of tranquillity and strength. Standing at six feet tall with a sturdy build, his presence was as reassuring as the great peaks he was named after. His hair was a cascade of silver, and his eyes held the wisdom of ages. He had a gift for nurturing, an innate ability to calm the storm inside Dewdrop.

The door to Mountain’s cosy cabin was slightly ajar, as it always was for Dewdrop. Stepping inside, Dewdrop immediately felt the warmth of the place, a stark contrast to the chill outside. The cabin was filled with the scent of pine and herbs, and the gentle crackle of the fireplace added a soothing soundtrack to the serene setting.

“Dewdrop,” Mountain greeted, his voice a deep, rumbling comfort. He moved from the kitchen area where he was brewing a pot of tea. “Rough day, huh?”

Dewdrop nodded, unable to find the words. Instead, he moved towards Mountain, feeling small and vulnerable. Mountain understood immediately. He set down the teapot and enveloped Dewdrop in a hug, wrapping his strong arms around him. Dewdrop melted into the embrace, the tension starting to dissolve.

“It’s okay, little one,” Mountain murmured. “You’re safe here.”

He guided Dewdrop to the couch, a large, overstuffed piece of furniture adorned with soft blankets and pillows. Dewdrop nestled into the corner, pulling a plush blanket over himself. Mountain busied himself with the tea, choosing a blend he knew Dewdrop loved—chamomile with a hint of lavender, perfect for soothing frayed nerves.

As the tea steeped, Mountain returned to the couch, sitting beside Dewdrop. He wrapped an arm around him, pulling him close. Dewdrop laid his head on Mountain’s chest, listening to the steady heartbeat, feeling the rise and fall of his breath. It was a grounding sensation, one that helped him settle into the present moment.

“Would you like to talk about it?” Mountain asked gently.

Dewdrop shook his head. Words felt too big, too complicated. He just wanted to be held, to feel the steady reassurance of Mountain’s presence. Mountain didn’t press further. He understood that sometimes, silence was the best medicine.

After a few minutes, the tea was ready. Mountain poured two cups, handing one to Dewdrop. The warmth of the cup seeped into his hands, and the fragrant steam enveloped him in a comforting embrace. He took a tentative sip, the familiar flavors bringing a sense of calm.

“Thank you,” Dewdrop tried to whisper, but his voice caught in his throat. Panic flickered across his face as he realized he was having a verbal shutdown. He tried again, but no sound came out. His hands started to tremble, and tears welled up in his eyes.

Mountain immediately noticed the change. “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he soothed, his voice calm and reassuring. He gently cupped Dewdrop’s face, guiding his eyes to meet his own. “You don’t need to speak. Just breathe with me, alright?”

Dewdrop nodded, his breaths coming in shallow gasps. Mountain placed a hand on Dewdrop’s chest, feeling the rapid rise and fall. He began to breathe slowly and deeply, exaggerating the movements so Dewdrop could mimic them.

“In and out,” Mountain instructed softly. “Just like that. In and out.”

Dewdrop focused on Mountain’s breathing, matching his rhythm. Gradually, his breaths became slower, deeper. The tightness in his chest started to ease, and the tears stopped flowing. Mountain kept his hand steady on Dewdrop’s chest, his presence a grounding force.

“There you go,” Mountain murmured, his voice a low, comforting rumble. “You’re doing great.”

Dewdrop managed a shaky smile, the panic ebbing away. He felt exhausted, the emotional turmoil of the day finally catching up to him. Mountain could see the fatigue in his eyes and gently adjusted their position so Dewdrop could lie down on the couch, his head resting in Mountain’s lap.

“You’re safe here, Dewdrop,” Mountain said, continuing to stroke his hair. “You don’t have to say anything. Just rest.”

Dewdrop closed his eyes, focusing on the steady rhythm of Mountain’s touch and the warmth radiating from his body. The verbal shutdown had shaken him, but Mountain’s presence was like a lifeline, pulling him back from the brink of despair.

Mountain kept his movements slow and soothing, knowing that even the slightest disturbance could unsettle Dewdrop. He hummed a soft melody, a tune he knew calmed Dewdrop during moments like these. The sound was low and steady, a gentle lullaby that filled the room with tranquility.

As Dewdrop’s breathing evened out, Mountain felt a wave of tenderness wash over him. He understood the depth of Dewdrop’s struggle and the courage it took to seek comfort and support. He was honored to be the one Dewdrop turned to, to be the rock in the storm.

The fire continued to crackle softly, casting a warm glow that danced on the walls. The scent of chamomile and lavender still hung in the air, mingling with the earthy aroma of the firewood. It was a setting designed for comfort, a haven where Dewdrop could let go and simply be.

Mountain watched as Dewdrop’s features relaxed, the lines of worry smoothing out. He leaned back slightly, careful not to disturb the peaceful moment. His own heart swelled with a quiet joy, knowing he could provide the sanctuary Dewdrop needed.

The night deepened, the world outside growing quieter. Inside the cabin, the atmosphere was one of complete serenity. Dewdrop, enveloped in the warmth and security of Mountain’s care, slipped into a deep, restful sleep.

Mountain continued to hum softly, his fingers threading gently through Dewdrop’s hair. He knew that when morning came, the challenges of the world would still be there. But for now, in this quiet moment, there was only peace.

And so, under the watchful eye of his caregiver, Dewdrop slept soundly, his dreams undisturbed. The simple act of being together, sharing the comfort of touch and presence, had brought him back from the edge. In the embrace of his friend and protector, Dewdrop found the solace he needed. And in that moment, all was right with the world.

Mountain continued to watch over the little ghoul, a soft smile playing on his lips. He knew Dewdrop would need his support even in sleep, so he kept his presence strong and steady, a silent guardian through the night.

Dewdrop stirred slightly, snuggling deeper into the warmth of Mountain's lap. Mountain gently adjusted the blanket around him, ensuring he remained cosy. The fire’s glow flickered gently, casting comforting shadows across the room.

As the night wore on, Mountain’s thoughts drifted. He thought about the journey that had brought Dewdrop to this point, the struggles he faced, and the resilience he showed. Dewdrop was strong in his own way, and Mountain felt a deep sense of pride and love for his little one.

The night was long, but the tranquility within the cabin made time seem irrelevant. Mountain’s soft humming continued, a soothing backdrop to the serenity that enveloped them both. His fingers never ceased their gentle motions through Dewdrop’s hair, a constant reminder of his unwavering presence.

Morning light eventually began to filter through the windows, casting a gentle glow over the room. Dewdrop’s eyes fluttered open, and he looked up at Mountain with a sleepy but content smile.

“Morning, little one,” Mountain greeted softly. “How are you feeling?”

Dewdrop stretched slightly, the remnants of sleep still clinging to him. “Better,” he whispered, his voice hoarse but steady. “Thank you, Mountain.”

“You’re always welcome here, Dewdrop,” Mountain replied, his voice filled with warmth. “Remember, you don’t have to face things alone. I’m always here for you.”

Dewdrop nodded, a wave of gratitude washing over him. He felt a renewed sense of strength, knowing that Mountain’s unwavering support was always there to catch him when he fell. The challenges of the day before seemed distant, overshadowed by the comfort and security he had found in Mountain’s care.

#regressed ghouls #agere #eepy #ghost band agere #safe for work age regression #for jimothy barnes #awwwww

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