thoughtsfromlayla

[thoughtsfromlayla]

Long Live the King.

-

oh morpheus, i will mourn you forever. i’m actually so distraught over this show, nobody speak to me.

[thoughtsfromlayla]

😩😢can we talk about how when Daniel meets the family they have a special window in the room for dreams Star ⭐️ I missed it on first viewing

[thoughtsfromlayla]

✧·˚ “ I SLEEP SO I CAN SEE YOU, ‘CAUSE I HATE TO WAIT SO LONG ” ༘ * ༄

synopsis. dream is very protective of his wife, so when a creature invades her dreams he takes immediate action before it can cast any lasting effects

featuring. dream of the endless (the sandman), wife!reader

a/n. now i know what you’re gonna say “but pearl sleeping in the dreaming makes no sense cause it’s the dream world you have to be sleep to get there” HUSH and just let it happen, it is fan FICTION just let it happen

you would think being the wife of a dream lord’s protects you from the terrifying nightmares, but it seems some creature has seeped into your head and taken hold of your psyche when you sleep. it doesn’t help that you sleep when dream goes to attend to his duties.

this particular creature seems to have taken a liking you messing with your head. you know it is not a nightmare, you know of all your husbands creations and this thing, stalks you in the corners of your mind while you believe yourself to be dreaming, luring you into a false sense of relaxation and then it will purposely show itself in the corners of your vision but when you turn to look at it it disappears, leaving you to feel uneasy until you turn back around and it stands only inches away from you which causes you to startle awake.

this has been going on now for longer than you’d like to admit and you’ve seen how busy your husband as been and do not wish to trouble him with something as trivial as this when he has far more important matters to deal with. unfortunately for you this experience has made you put off sleep for as long as you possibly can and dream takes notices of it.

you sit across from him in the library reading about a lovely dream a mortal has created. you can feel your eyes are growing heavy and let out a yawn before continuing.

“what troubles you dear wife?” dream asks, not looking up from his work.

“nothing, why do you ask dear husband?” you respond back placing the book down.

“you have stayed awake with me for three days now.” he says softly, one might think you could even hear a bit of concern laced in his voice.

“i’ve just missed you, that’s all.” you give him a soft sleep to try and sell it, but clearly dream is not buying. “you’ve just been so busy with your work and i’ve rarely seen you—”

“you have not been sleeping so you can spend more time with me?”

now that it is said out loud you realize how ridiculous it sounds. the wife of a dream lord isn’t sleeping because she wants to see him more.

“…yes?”

dream’s expression reminds flat.

“you are not being truthful.” dream stands and walks over to where you are seat before kneeling in-front of you. his eyes search your own for some actual reasoning.

“i’ve had trouble sleeping when you are not with me…” you confess, looking away as you feel your cheeks burn.

dream’s hand comes under your chin to gently turn you to face him again.

“do you wish for me to remain with you tonight?”

“i couldn’t ask that of you—”

“i will.” he says bluntly, shocking you.

“you will?” he nods.

“what kind of dream lord would i be if my own wife could not get sleep?” a whisper of a smile appears on his lips before he kisses your head gently before standing again. “i must deal with some matters now rather than later. i trust when i return you will be ready for slumber.”

you stand as you watch him start to leave.

“dream.”

you call out to him, he stops and turns to you.

“yes my love?”

you move to where he stands and place a kiss on his lips before thanking him.

“anything for you.” he replies gently.

you smile at him, placing one last kiss on his lips before he leaves.

later on you can truly start to feel the sleep you’ve been avoiding for so long take ahold of you. your actions slow and you take your time, almost struggle, to put the silk sheets onto your bed.

“you need not to waste your energy.”

you turn hearing dream’s voice behind you.

“i know, i just like having a task.”

you turn back to finish placing the sheets but see that dream has already done it for you and you unintentionally let out a small huff.

“tasks distract, you need only to focus on one thing now.” you feel him wrap his arms around your middle and place a kiss behind your ear, earning a smile from you.

“you?”

dream smirks and lets out a exhale through his nose which is the closest you’ll get to a laugh.

“no, sleep. come my love.”

he sits on the bed, his outfit now changed to a more comfortable one to sleep in.

“as you command my dream lord.”

you climb onto the bed and curl into his side, you feel safe here with him, the safest you’ve felt in weeks. you hope that him being here will scare off whatever creature dares to taunt you. you can feel yourself easily drifting off in his arms and his hand moves to hold yours, offering a gently squeeze of reassurance. a simple ‘i am here, you are safe’ gesture that gives comfort.

you find yourself in a different part of the dreaming, a place that you have made in your mind, a beach that soft waves crash onto the shore. you look around for your husband but do not see him. your eyes land on a distant figure, it is not your husband though.

you feel it’s uncomfortable aura even as it stands a great distance from you. it unsettles you deeply as continuously stares at you, sending a shudder down your spine as you feel your chest tighten with anxiety.

“how dare you enter my realm to feed upon innocent people?”

you hear him before you see him, a shadow form in the sky that casts over the land as dream’s eye flicker white, oh he is pissed.

“and to do it to my beloved wife? you will no longer have the freedom you once had.”

dream’s shadowed hand looms over the creature and grabs it harshly. the creature squirms in his grip has he crushes the weak thing in his grasp. you look away from the grotesque scene, not particularly fond of gory aspect of it all you cover your ears to try and block the sickening crunch.

you don’t turn back around until you feel dream’s arms slide around your waist and pulling you close to his chest.

“are you alright my love?” his voice is soft compared to how intimating it sounded moments earlier.

you turn to face him, cupping his face with both of your hands to place a gentle kiss on his cheek and hug him tightly.

“thank you.”

“anything for you my beloved.”

“how can i ever repay you?” you ask leaning into him more.

“by resting properly now.” dream kisses your temple as he holds you close, finally allowing you to rest.

when you wake you find dream gazing at you and moving a stray hair from your face. the moment is intimate and you almost don’t want to break the silence between the two of you. you push his messy hair back and place a kiss on his forehead, then his nose and then his lips.

“did you sleep well my love?” he asks taking your hand to place a kiss on on your knuckles.

“i did.” you smile and move closer. “i dreamt that a hero came and saved me from a nightmare that i was having.”

“oh did you?” he pulls you into his chest.

“mhm, and he was very handsome.”

amount of fanfics for him on this site is so small it made me come out of retirement also this ain’t proof read and the keyboard i was typing with is a little broken so if you see any mistakes no you didn’t

.masterlist

.love always <3 pearl

[thoughtsfromlayla]

WHAT

[thoughtsfromlayla]

Lady Luck is Smiling - Chapter Nine

.☘︎ ݁˖ Desperato Fortuna Adiuvat - Fortuna favors the hopeless.

Summary: When the Fates leave Morpheus' call unanswered, he gains insight into another goddess that may be able to help regain his lost tools. Lady Luck, as you go by now as opposed to Fortuna nor Tyche, is the second youngest of the Four Ladies. Morpheus is determined to learn how and what makes you smile, for your smile will allow luck to be on his side, and with any of it, will he find his tools.

Warnings/Tags: None

Word count: 2.0k

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•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

It takes you a moment for you to realize your eyes are in fact open. Just that the place Morpheus’ ruby is hidden is dark and smells like… you take a probing sniff—hay. A few seconds later, your eyes adjust and you can make out the shapes of random oddities and trinkets. 

A garage of someone’s home perhaps? No. You take a closer look at the uneven walls. It’s more likely a large storage container of some sort—the walls are made of metal. 

“Here,” Matthew says, pecking on an unsuspecting wooden box. 

The pathway is narrow as you cross over to the box, nearly taking out your ankle on some random knocked over bowling pin. You bring the box down from the shelf, opening it to reveal a glowing ruby the size of your eye. 

“It’s pretty,” you comment as you pick it up, letting the magical glow illuminate the space. 

“Something’s not right,” Morpheus frowns. He knows his ruby, it was crafted of his own powers and dream soul. “Someone’s altered it.”

You let out a hiss as the ruby suddenly burns in your fingers. It came on so suddenly, it took you a second to even register it wasn’t safe to hold anymore. The rare gemstone falls from your grasp and red fills your vision. 

It’s bright and harsh against your pupils before the power of it blasts you back. In the last moment, Morpheus stands before you, pulling you to his chest as he takes the brunt of the damage to his back. 

You can feel the magic energy radiating off of it as you try to remember what it meant to breathe. Morpheus’ heavy ass body on top of you probably didn’t help. 

“Get off of me,” you rasp out, pushing him off like some obese house cat that decided to sleep on your chest. “Morpheus?”

You curse as he doesn’t respond, his body limp on the cold floor of the metal storage container. Calling out his name again, you give him a heavy shake of his shoulders and yet he still remains unconscious. 

With a shaky finger, you place it over his pulse point, trying to calm your own breathing and count his heartbeat. Shit. Do Endless even have heartbeats? What is the anatomical difference between an Endless and a goddess such as yourself? Or is he actually DEAD?

“Gods, Morpheus. Wake up!” You scream at him and before you can think about it, your palm comes down and strikes him across the cheek. You regret it almost instantly, not because you just slapped the shit out of Dream of the motherfucking Endless, but because his cheek was like fucking marble. Gods that hurt. “Don’t wake up,” you hiss, holding your throbbing palm. 

Your body tenses as the door to the storage room creaks open, you carefully drag Morpheus’ body into the corner with you, using his obscenely dark coat to camouflage the three of you.

The man who came in didn’t even bother to look around, his eyes set on the glowing ruby that nearly took you out. He leaves as quickly as he came, locking the door behind him with the deadbolt, but you don’t start breathing again until you hear the car outside drive off in the rain.  Even then, you stay still until you’re certain. 

Matthew begins to wake up, squirming around on his back before successfully propping himself back on his feet. You watch him sway for a moment, trying to regain his balance before he blinks at you with those creepy third eyelids that birds have. 

“What happened?” The raven asks immediately, hobbling over to the still-unconscious Morpheus. You had managed to prop his head onto your lap after you realized that he was still breathing, just out cold. Lucky bitch. You could use a power nap right about now. 

Thinking back on it, the three of you had started off on this little adventure little less than a week ago. Most of your time was spent trudging through the barren wastelands of Hell, you realized. 

“What do we do?” Matthew asks, pecking at Moprheus’ finger, willing his master to wake. 

“I’m thinking,” you sigh. Morpheus is alive… sort of. It seems like he was in some sort of limbo state, neither here in the physical realm nor in the unconscious realm. Either way, there is one thing that can wake him from this spell. 

You come up with a plan as you hide Morpheus’ unconscious body with a few empty crates. It involves a bunny, a little bit of magic, and the moon goddess. But first, you need to leave the container before you do any of that. 

“Do you want to come or do you want to stay here and guard Morpheus?” You ask Matthew, kneeling on the ground to be on his shorter level. 

“No, I’ll come with you. I don’t know why, but I have a feeling that Morphes would want me to look over you and whatever plan you’ve conjured up.” Matthew opens his wings, as if daring you to challenge him, but you only smile. 

“Alright.”

There is the slightest crack in the container where the doors would meet to open and close it. You peek through the crack with your eye, noting the typical dreary London weather and the fluorescent lights of the storage lot. 

Closing your eyes, you will yourself to turn into a breezy form of clovers and hydrangea petals, easily slipping through the crack before pulling yourself together again. A singular petal clings to your hair that you pluck out before your attention turns to Matthew, who only had his large beak pushing through. 

“Help,” he says simply. 

“I don’t have a key, just… fly through like I did.”

Silence follows your vague instruction before you hear the frantic flapping of wings and then a thud. Matthew’s beak pokes through the crack again, through this time at your eye level. 

Matthew sighs, his words slurring with his beak stuck. “That didn’t work.”

“Why did you do that?” You exclaim, hands thrown in the air. 

“You told me to!” He exclaims back, as if that would explain anything. “Pull me out.”

Pull him out? You grimace, but your hand wraps around his beak and you pull. Nothing. “Aren’t you a literal dream? How can you possibly have a body that obeys the laws of mortal physics?” 

“M mmof mrow,” Matthew says, words muffled by your hand. 

You raise a foot to brace against the door as you pull on him harder. Unsurprisingly, with how smooth Matthew’s beak is, you lose your grip and you fall onto the hard concrete floor. 

“Jesus Christ died for this,” you mutter to yourself as you look at the light pollution above you. With a heavy sigh you peel yourself off the floor and grab onto Matthew’s beak again. “Alright, buddy, suck it in.”

It takes both of your feet on the crate door and the entirety of your back muscles to pull Matthew through. He escapes with a pop and a rain of feathers. The sudden momentum leaves you to fling him overhead and across the lot like a catapult. 

»» ──── .☘︎ ݁˖x ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

Twigs crunch under your shoe and you sigh loudly. Normally, you would sigh quietly, bunnies get spooked easily, but it’s not exactly like you’re being quiet in general. It’s like the world decided to put all of the crunchiest, loudest things in this specific forest before you stepped through. You pass a Nando’s chicken wrapper and your stomach growls. Great, now you’re hungry, too. 

“What are we looking for again?” Matthew asks on your shoulder. 

“For a bird, you really don’t like to fly much,” you comment with a critical eye. “Also, bunnies. Well, one—we just need one bunny.”

“First of all, flying is way more tiring than walking or perching on someone else with longer legs. Second of all, what’s up with bunnies?”

You sigh again, the cold air turning your breath into visible vapor. “We need to go there.” 

Matthew follows your extended finger, his head craning back as far as he could. “The moon?!” 

You nod, your eyes cast forward again, looking for a fast dart of soft fur and magic. You can feel Matthew brimming with questions and since there didn’t seem to be any of those hopping rascals anywhere near you so close to the edge of the forest, you decide to answer some. 

“Let me ask you this,” you start, bringing Matthew in front of you in the palm of your hands. “What is your master’s name?”

“Uh… Dream,” Matthew answers. 

“And?”

“Morpheus?”

“And?”

“Oneiros?”

You nod with a soft smile. “What about me?” 

“You’re Lady Luck,” Matthew nods along. 

“And?” You prompt again. 

“Fortuna. And Tyche,” the corvid adds before you could ask. 

You laugh lightly, petting him as a small reward. “So then, who is the moon goddess? Selene,” you answer for him before he could get the chance. “And Luna, and so many other names. Selene was once called Chang’e, for when the people of the Zhou Dynasty of ancient China worshipped her.” 

“Ah, and we need to visit Selene? Chang’e?” Matthew corrects himself. 

“Any name works, but yes.” 

You shift your position, tilting Matthew’s head with a finger before pointing at the full moon above you. “Do you see that outline? Those two make the ears, that’s the tail, and that is a mortar and pestle.” 

Trying your best to explain the shape out to Matthew, you trace the dark shadows on the near side of the moon’s surface. Two long ears, one short tail, and the mortar and pestle of the Moon Rabbit. 

“Kinda..?” Matthew squints. “I definitely see the ears.” 

“That’s the Moon Rabbit, his name is Yùtù and he is Chang’e’s great pet bunny. He’s an apothecary and can make great potions and pills for any ailment—mortal or not.” 

“Morpehus,” Matthew caws in realization. They needed to get to Yùtù to get something that would wake him up. 

You smile sadly. “Yeah…” You only let yourself feel the dread of the mission in front of you for a moment before taking a deep, shaky breath. “Anyway, Yùtù makes awesome cakes, too. We should snag a few pieces before we come back.” 

“Yeah? What kind of—bunny!” Matthew points out, flapping his wings as he flies after the darting prey animal. 

The bunny is fast and it dashes through the brushes. If it wasn’t for Matthew, you wouldn’t have been able to catch the briefest glimpse of it. Your feet sprint into action, the white fur of the rabbit a stark contrast against the dark of the forest. Matthew flies higher into the trees, his black feathers camouflaging him into the night as he keeps a watchful eye on the pouncing prey. 

The rabbit darts to the left and you scramble against the loose leaf floor as you skid after it. Shit, you’ve nearly forgotten how fast these little fuckers were. The moon makes the white fur glow, so at least it’s easy to track even as it starts to gain some speed on you. 

You push your legs faster, the cold air entering your nose and vapor puffing from your lips, burning your lungs. Matthew swoops down suddenly in front of the rabbit, cawing ominously, and making the small animal turn into a different direction. 

You thank him silently as the bunny unknowingly makes its way back towards you. With a pounce, you grab onto its silky white fur. 

“Matthew! Come!” You scream frantically as its tiny but powerful legs kick against your diaphragm. “Quickly!”

“I hope you know, I still don’t know why we need a bunny to go to the moon!” Matthew screams as he dives through the air. 

Your body starts to tingle and the bunny in your arm starts to glow brighter as it squirms. With one hand on the bunny and the other reaching out for Matthew, the world spins and blinds you as it hops into a new dimension. 

Damn teleporting bunnies. 

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

Bunny <3

Tag list:

@astral-dreamer-7 @uniquehijo @navs-bhat @ireneserene @givingmyhearttoyou @v3lary0ns @totallysocially

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

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[thoughtsfromlayla]

baldpheus or alternatively dream of the baldness

He has many names

[thoughtsfromlayla]

One of my dearest friends, since way back in high school, is needing to rehome his very friendly, active dog, after a serious and ongoing medical crisis.

I would so appreciate you sharing this anywhere you think someone might help.

Taz is a real sweetheart.

[thoughtsfromlayla]

Baldpheus

cause who wants to write fanfiction when I can do this

[thoughtsfromlayla]

Take a Hint

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Summary: You were only supposed to help Din Djarin with one bounty. But after the mission, you stuck around — teasing, flirting, testing the waters. He never reacted the way you hoped, always hiding behind practical words and stoic silence.

Or five times you thought Din was dense and one time you realized you were wrong.

Tags: Fluff, 5+1 things, miscommunication, SFW, Din Djarin is oblivious, he's trying his best, one sided, or is it???, idiots in love, protective Din Djarin, Din Djarin being soft (in his own way). No descriptions of reader. No mentions of Y/N.

A/N: I know it's a lot shorter than my other Din fanfic, but I hope you'll enjoy this one as well. If you have any requests, suggestions, or thoughts, feel free to send me a message. Reblogs are appreciated. Please do not steal or cross-post it on another platform without asking. Thank you.

Word Count: 2.7k

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1.

You stretched your arms above your head, letting out a sharp sigh as the bounty’s unconscious body thudded to the floor of the Razor Crest’s cargo hold.

“That’s one way to say job well done,” you muttered, brushing space dust from your jacket sleeve before slinking into the co-pilot’s chair.

Behind you, Din Djarin closed the ramp and began checking the carbonite chamber, ensuring the target was fully frozen and secure. He hadn’t spoken much since you reached the ship — not that he was ever particularly chatty — but you chalked that up to the Mando brand of "taciturn charm."

“Well, that was fun,” you said brightly, spinning halfway in the chair to face him. “You always do jobs this entertaining, or was this just to impress me?”

His helmet tilted slightly toward you. “It wasn’t supposed to be fun.”

“No? Shame. You looked pretty good out there.” You gave him a teasing grin and leaned back, resting your boots on the edge of the control panel.

He turned fully toward you now, helmet glinting in the light of hyperspace pre-jump. “You almost got shot.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t let that happen.” You pointed a finger at him, lazily. “Knight in shiny beskar and all that.”

“…I hired you for your recon work. That’s all.”

You shrugged. “Sure, Mando. I’m just saying, you throw a girl against a wall to shield her from a blaster bolt, she might start thinking you care.”

He walked past you to the cockpit, flicking switches like nothing had happened. “We leave in ten.”

You laughed under your breath and leaned back further, hands behind your head. “You’re cute when you pretend I don’t fluster you.”

No response. Just the cold silence of a man fully immersed in his pre-flight check.

Not even a head tilt this time.

You pursed your lips, then smirked.

Alright. That one might have been too subtle…for him.

But you weren’t going anywhere just yet.

2.

You leaned against a stack of fuel canisters, watching Din as he crouched next to the hull of the Razor Crest, speaking low and serious with Peli Motto. Something about coolant lines or hyperdrive relays—you weren’t listening. Mostly because he’d taken off his gloves again, and there was something about watching his fingers flex against a piece of machinery that scrambled your thoughts like eggs on a Tatooine skillet.

Grogu was toddling near your feet, cooing up at you. You bent down and gave his ear a little scratch. “He’s lucky he’s got you, kid,” you said. “Shame you’re the only one in this partnership with any emotional intelligence.”

Grogu blinked at you slowly, then burbled in agreement. Or maybe hunger.

“Mando!” you called out, hopping off the crates and sauntering toward the ship. “Since we’re stuck in Mos Eisley for a bit… how about I buy you a drink?”

He didn’t even look up from where he was tightening something under the ship’s belly.

“No.”

You arched an eyebrow. “You sure? Could be a bonding moment.”

“No.”

You sighed, pushing your tongue against your cheek to hide the smile. “Are you afraid I’ll drink you under the table? Or that you’ll have fun?”

“I don’t drink on the job.”

“We’re not on a job,” you replied smoothly. “We’re in between. There’s a difference.”

He finally looked up at you, visor catching the Tatooine twin suns. “We don’t need to bond.”

You opened your mouth, but then shut it.

Instead, you gave a mock salute and walked off muttering, “Alright, Casanova, loud and clear.”

Later, you were helping Peli hook up a new motivator coil when she snorted and said, “You’re wasting your time, sweetheart.”

You turned your head. “Excuse me?”

“With him,” she nodded toward Din, who was now sitting on the ramp with Grogu in his lap, feeding him a little packet of something green and mushy. “You’ve been laying it on thicker than Bantha butter, and he’s just… nothing.”

You groaned, flopping back onto the sand beside her. “Is he dense, or just emotionally stunted?”

“Both,” Peli replied cheerfully. “Don’t take it personally. I’ve seen rancors with better romantic instincts.”

You covered your face with your hands. “Hopeless.”

“Yep.”

You peeked through your fingers, catching sight of Grogu now waddling toward you with food smeared across his mouth.

“Well,” you murmured, sitting up and letting him crawl into your lap, “at least one of them likes me.”

Peli patted your shoulder, greasy handprint and all. “That’s a start.”

3.

The alley was narrow, the kind of cramped, shadowed crevice that smelled like rust and desperation. You ducked in first, tugging Din’s arm behind you just as blaster fire cracked against the duracrete wall.

“I told you that guy looked too twitchy to be a clean drop,” you hissed.

“You waited until we were already inside to tell me that,” Din replied, voice flat but calm as ever. You could practically hear the slight raise of his brow under the helmet.

“Call it a hunch,” you muttered.

Another volley of shots whizzed past, and Din shoved you further into the shadows. He followed in right after, pinning you both against the wall as the enemy patrol ran past. There was barely a breath between you. His arm was braced next to your head, his chest pressed fully against yours, armor cold even through your clothes.

You tilted your head up slowly, voice low. “You know, if you wanted me pressed up against you, Mando, you could’ve just asked.”

His helmet was angled so close you could see your own smirk reflected in the beskar.

“Stay quiet,” he said.

“That’s all you’re gonna say? Really?” You leaned in just a little, voice all honey and trouble. “No comment on the close quarters? The dim lighting? The way your knee is pressed against my—?”

“I said quiet.”

You let out a long, exaggerated sigh, head thudding back against the wall. “I’m just saying, most people would at least acknowledge the tension here.”

Din shifted his weight slightly, and you thought maybe—maybe—that you’d finally gotten through.

Instead, he pulled back just enough to glance outside the alley. “They’re gone. Let’s move.”

And then, just like that, the warmth of his body was gone, his cape brushing your arm as he slipped back into the light.

You stood there for a second longer, staring after him.

“Unbelievable,” you muttered, jogging to catch up. “I was practically breathing pick-up lines in your face, and you gave me nothing. Not even a grunt.”

4.

It had been a long day. The kind that sank into your bones and made even the air feel heavy.

The bounty had fought harder than expected, and Din had taken the brunt of it — bruised ribs, a split lip under the helmet, and a noticeable limp that he stubbornly refused to acknowledge.

Now, inside the dim hull of the Razor Crest, the silence between the two of you felt comfortable. Grogu was already asleep in his hammock, snoring softly like some tiny, ancient gremlin.

Din was sitting on the edge of the cot, working one-handed to undo a section of his chest plate. You noticed the stiffness in his shoulders, the way he winced every time he shifted his weight.

“Here,” you said gently, crossing the space to kneel in front of him. “Let me help.”

He started to protest, of course. “I’ve got it.”

You gave him a look, one you knew he could feel even if he couldn’t see your face. “I didn’t ask if you could. I said let me.”

He hesitated… and then let his hands drop.

Your fingers moved carefully, familiar now with the clasps and locks of his beskar. You worked slowly, undoing the armor piece by piece — chest plate, gauntlets, pauldrons — setting each one down beside you with reverence, like they mattered. Like he mattered.

His undershirt was dark with sweat and streaked with grime. You resisted the urge to reach for a cloth and clean him up. Instead, your hands hovered near the edge of his vambrace.

“You always take care of everyone else,” you said softly. “Let someone take care of you, just this once.”

He was quiet for a long moment. Then: “You don’t have to.”

“I know.” You smiled faintly, not looking up. “Doesn’t mean I don’t want to.”

You unlatched the vambrace slowly. His forearm tensed beneath your fingers, the bare skin warm.

He didn’t say anything to that. But he didn’t stop you, either.

When you finally looked up, you found his visor fixed squarely on you. The silence stretched between you like a held breath.

If he felt anything—warmth, tension, the way your fingers lingered against the edge of his wrist—he didn’t say.

Just a small nod.

And then: “Thank you.”

You nodded back, lips curled in the barest smile. “Anytime.”

You stood and walked past Grogu’s hammock, brushing a hand over his ears as you went.

From behind you, you could feel the weight of Din’s stare following you the whole way.

5.

The Razor Crest creaked under the weight of frost, a low groan echoing through the hull as wind battered the exterior.

You were both grounded — a storm too thick to fly through and a bounty who was likely just as frozen as the damn planet. The heating system, true to its usual charm, had sputtered out three hours ago.

You were curled into yourself on the floor of the ship, back against the wall, arms wrapped tightly around your knees. Your jacket was decent, but nothing short of a portable sun was going to fight the kind of chill creeping into your bones.

Grogu was warm in his little insulated pod, snuggled deep in his blanket nest, occasionally letting out a snore.

Across the room, Din sat on a crate, sharpening one of his vibroblades like it was just any other night. No sign of discomfort. No sign he was feeling the same way your teeth were chattering.

You didn’t say anything. You weren’t sure if it was pride or exhaustion, but the silence stretched.

Until finally, without looking up, he spoke.

“You’re cold.”

“No kidding,” you muttered, breath puffing visibly in front of your face. “What gave it away? The blue lips or the full-body shiver?”

He didn’t rise to the sarcasm. Instead, he reached into the compartment behind him and pulled out a heavy, worn blanket.

“Come here,” he said, scooting to the edge of the crate and patting the space beside him.

You blinked at him. “You’re inviting me to share body heat?”

“Purely practical.”

You snorted as you stood, dragging yourself over. “Right. Not because you enjoy my company or anything ridiculous like that.”

He didn’t answer, just opened the blanket as you sat down beside him.

It was warmer than you expected. His armor had retained some heat, and beneath it, his body was a furnace. The blanket went around both of you, his arm loosely draped behind your shoulders to keep it up.

The silence settled again.

Then, a little softer: “Better?”

You tilted your head toward him. “If I said no, would you let me shove my hands under your shirt?”

He didn’t so much as flinch. “No.”

You laughed, but it was quiet. Tired. The kind of laugh that cracked into something tender. You leaned your head against his shoulder, your voice dropping low.

“...Thanks, Din.”

He didn’t say anything. But you felt it — the shift. A subtle lean into you. The way his fingers adjusted the blanket more tightly around you both.

And then Grogu stirred in his pod, peeking out, blinking at the sight of you nestled together. He blinked once. Twice. And let out a soft, amused coo.

You met his gaze with a smirk.

+1

You stopped calling him Din.

Not on purpose. It just… slipped away.

It had started subtly: the teasing softened, the smiles dimmed. You kept your hands to yourself more, kept your jokes to Grogu instead. You still worked with Din, still followed him into the fire and out again, but the space between you felt wider than it ever had.

And maybe it was for the best.

Maybe you'd crossed a line, misread something. Maybe your flirting had made him uncomfortable, and he was too kind—or too stoic—to say it outright.

You hadn’t realized how much it hurt to pull away until you were halfway across a frozen plain, following behind him in silence, and he didn’t say a word about the wind biting at your skin.

He always offered the blanket before. Always stood just a little closer.

Now?

Nothing.

You tried to tell yourself it was fine. You were fine. You weren’t here to fall in love with a man who never showed his face. You were here because you wanted to be.

You didn’t expect him to care.

Then one night, as the ship drifted through hyperspace and Grogu was snoring softly in his hammock, Din stood in the middle of the hull, hands loose at his sides. Watching you.

“Why are you avoiding me?” he asked.

You blinked from where you sat on your bunk, caught mid-polishing your blaster. “I’m not.”

“You are.”

You looked down. “I just figured maybe I was… pushing too much. Saying things I shouldn’t have. Being… flirty.” The word stung coming out of your mouth. “Didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

There was a long pause. You expected silence. Maybe a brush-off. But instead:

“You weren’t.”

You glanced up. He stepped closer, the quiet clink of his armor unusually loud in the quiet. “I thought you knew.”

“Knew what?”

He hesitated, then said carefully, “I was flirting back.”

You blinked. “You what?”

He tilted his head. “You remember the first job? When we caught that bounty together, and I told you to leave right after?”

You nodded slowly.

“I made sure you got a full share. Paid for your passage off-world. Protected you during the shootout. I don’t do that for strangers.”

You swallowed. “That’s not—”

“And on Tatooine,” he cut in, voice quiet but firm. “You asked me to bond over a drink. I told you we didn’t need to bond.”

You furrowed your brow. “Exactly. You turned me down.”

“No,” he said. “I said, ‘We don’t need to bond.’ What I meant was—we already do. I didn’t think I needed more than what we had.”

Your mouth opened, then closed.

“In the alley,” he continued, stepping even closer, “when I had you pinned against the wall… You think I didn’t want that? That I wasn’t aware of how close we were?”

You felt your pulse jump.

“I wanted it,” he said simply. “I just couldn’t say it then. Couldn’t risk you thinking it was anything less than mutual.”

You sat up straighter, the air tight in your lungs.

He took another step, now close enough that you could feel the shift of his weight. “When you helped me take off my armor… I don’t let anyone do that. No one touches it. No one touches me.”

“Din—”

“And the blanket? On the ice planet?” His voice gentled. “That wasn’t practical. That was me finding the only excuse I had to hold you. To make sure you were okay.”

Your heart thundered in your chest.

“I thought I was being clear,” he said, finally. “But I guess I’m not great at… this.”

You blinked rapidly, trying to catch up. “You… you’ve been flirting this whole time?”

“As much as I know how to.”

There was a beat of silence.

And then, softly—warmly—he added, “So. You gonna keep pulling away? Or are we finally gonna admit we’ve been on the same page since the beginning?”

You stood, moving toward him until you were close enough to touch his chestplate.

“You could’ve said something.”

“I just did.”

You smiled, helpless and stunned. “Guess we’re both kind of hopeless.”

His hand brushed your arm, hesitant but deliberate. “Maybe. But not anymore.”

And just like that, all the quiet tension between you—weeks of half-meant jokes and unspoken affection—finally settled into something real. Something shared.

And just like that, all the quiet tension between you—weeks of half-meant jokes and unspoken affection—finally settled into something real. Something shared.

Not lost in translation anymore.

[thoughtsfromlayla]

That’s just me every time I try to pick up something today. I don’t look as graceful dropping stuff though…

[thoughtsfromlayla]

Dream—amfybrahy

[thoughtsfromlayla]

Love the comparison of Morpheus to a pathetic wet cat but I just found out about the African rain frog and

Thats just straight up him

[thoughtsfromlayla]

say less

dream’s been in one of his Moods again.

you’re across the room, watching him sulk behind that massive desk of his like the entire universe personally insulted him. he's been like this since you very gently pointed out that maybe—just maybe—he didn’t need to be such a cold bastard to the mortal girl in the dream he unraveled this morning.

you didn’t even say it mean. you were careful. polite. borderline diplomatic.

but the moment you said, “did you have to be so cold with her?” he full-body froze and replied with a clipped, “i do not require instruction in my own realm.” and then.

radio silence.

he hasn’t looked at you since. he’s working (allegedly), but every now and then you catch him pausing—just long enough to think, just long enough to be dramatic—before going back to pretending you don’t exist.

which is hilarious. and also unfair. because now you can’t stop looking at him.

his back is all stiff, his shoulders tense under the stupidly elegant fabric of whatever coat he’s chosen today. you know he doesn’t even need to wear clothes like that. he does it to be extra. to be “regal.” to make it harder to stay mad at him.

and it works.

because even when he’s being moody and petty, he’s also... painfully beautiful. and a little tragic. like someone carved a god out of starlight and then gave him abandonment issues.

you sigh. quietly. dramatically. and get up.

he doesn’t move when you approach. he’s totally still, even as you come up behind him and start massaging his shoulders.

he does tense at that—just a little—but he doesn’t stop you.

so you keep going. slow, firm pressure with your thumbs. leaning over him, your lips just barely brushing his ear.

“my dream,” you say softly.

no reaction. but you feel it.

“my morpheus,” you whisper.

his fingers go still. you can’t see his face, but you know that look—jaw tight, pretending it’s not affecting him. pretending you’re not affecting him.

“my oneiros,” you murmur. you kiss the side of his neck, light and slow. “my nightmare. my darkness, my starless sky.”

he says, “enough,” but it’s not sharp. it’s barely even a protest.

“why?” you ask, lips brushing against his throat. “afraid i’ll undo you?”

his breath catches. gotcha.

you keep kissing. trailing slowly down his neck, one hand sliding down his chest, the other still kneading his shoulder like you’re trying to physically drag the tension out of him.

you lean in again, mouth near his ear. “you sit here brooding like someone wounded you,” you whisper. “you push me away because i see too much. because i tell you when you’re wrong.”

no answer. but his hands lower from the desk. one grips the chair. tightly.

“you think you’re too much,” you whisper. “but you’re not. not for me.”

you kiss just under his jaw.

“my king.”

he snaps.

not in an angry way. in a finally breaking way. he turns, grabs your wrists like he’s grounding himself, and stares. hard. eyes all sharp and tired and soft underneath it all.

“you vex me,” he says, voice low.

you grin. “i know.”

he pulls you in. it’s not soft. it’s needy. like he’s been holding something in for centuries and it’s finally cracking.

and then he kisses you.

and it’s everything. it’s desperate and slow and almost angry with how much he wants it, how much he doesn’t want to want it. he’s holding you like he can’t let go or he’ll fall apart. like if he doesn’t touch you right now, he’ll vanish.

when you finally break apart, he leans his forehead to yours, breathing hard.

“i don’t know what to do with you,” he whispers.

you smile. kiss the tip of his nose.

“yes, you do.”

and then, just for fun, you whisper it again—

“my king.”

and this time, he doesn’t protest.

this time, he kneels.

[thoughtsfromlayla]

Happy Girlfriend Day to my favorite girlfriend

[thoughtsfromlayla]

may all the people who see this finish their current wip this year

[thoughtsfromlayla]

Feel like people who don't like tofu are eating 1) the wrong kind for the wrong cooking style 2) not seasoning it 3) expecting it to taste like meat because they hear it as a "meat substitute"

I just saw an unexpected post that I have to ask about.

Do people actually eat tofu, like, for real? It's not a bit, people can actually tolerate eating it?

[thoughtsfromlayla]

aruughf, barking politely

Jonathan Bailey as Anthony Bridgerton in “Capital R Rake” (Bridgerton - 2x01)

Gifs 161/?