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meg-moira · 4 years

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The Witch Who Spoke to the Wind

Sequel to Eindred and the Witch

In which Severin, the golden eyed witch, learns that his greatest enemy and truest love is fated to kill him.

Dealing in prophecies is a dubious work. Anyone who knows anything will tell you as much.

“Think of all of time as a grand tapestry,” his great-grandmother had said, elbow deep in scalding water. Her hands were tomato red, and Severin watched with wide golden eyes as she kneaded and stretched pale curds in the basin. “You might be so privileged to understand a single weave, but unless you go following all surrounding threads, and the threads around those threads, and so on - which, mind you, no human can do - you’ll never understand the picture.”

Severin, who was ten years old and had never seen a grand tapestry, looked at the cheese in the basin and asked if his great-grandmother could make the analogy about that instead.

“No,” she replied. “Time is a tapestry. Cheese is just cheese.”

And that was that.

By fifteen, Severin who was all arms, legs, and untamable black hair, decided he hated prophecies more than anything in the world. He occupied himself instead with long walks atop the white bluffs well beyond his family’s home. Outside, he could look at birds, and talk to the wind, and not think about the terrible prophecy which followed him like a shadow.

His second eldest sister had revealed it - accidentally, of course. Severin lived in a warm and bustling house with his great-grandmother, grandmother, mother, two aunts, and three sisters. All of whom were generously gifted in the art of foretelling (a messy business, each would say if asked), and every one of them had seen Severin’s same bleak thread.

He would die. Willingly stabbed through the heart by his greatest enemy and truest love.

Willingly. That was the worst part, he thought.

Severin, who had no talent in the way of prophecies, but plenty of talent in the realm of wind and sky, marched along the well-worn trail, static sparking around his fingertips as the brackish sea breeze nipped consolingly at his face and hair.

I will protect you if you ask me to, it blustered, and Severin was comforted.

He didn’t care who this foretold stranger was. When this enemy-lover appeared, Severin would ask the wind to pick them up and take them far, far away. Far enough that they could never harm him. The wind whistled in agreement. And so it was settled.

At seventeen, he was still all arms and legs, though his eldest sister had managed to tame his hair with a respectably sharp pair of shears. The wind, who had delighted in playing with his wild, tangled locks, did not thank her for it. Severin did thank her; in fact, he’d asked her to do it. He was of the opinion that his newly shorn hair made him look older - more sophisticated. And he left his family home with a new cloak draping his shoulders and a knotted wooden walking stick in hand, thinking himself very nearly a man. He was far from it, of course. But there was no telling him that.

He set out on a clear, cool morning to find his own way in the world, and was prepared to thoroughly deal with anyone who so much as dared to act ever so slightly in the manner of enemy or lover.

He discovered, soon enough, that this was not a practical attitude to take when venturing into the world. Severin spent his first months away from home making little in the way of friends and plenty in the way of thoroughly baffled enemies.

When you meet his gaze, you’ll know, the wind chided as it whisked in and out of his hood.

“His?” Severin said aloud, lifting a single dark brow. “Do you know something I don’t?”

The wind whistled noncommittally in answer.

The wind did know something, as it turned out. At twenty, Severin stood on the warm, sun-loved planks of a dock. As gulls cried overhead, he pressed his fingers to his lips. The young sailor had touched his lips to Severin’s in a swift, carefree kiss before departing on the sea. And though the feeling was pleasant enough, Severin knew that his enemy-lover was not on the great ship cleaving a path through the cerulean waves.

“When I meet his gaze, I’ll know,” Severin said, golden eyes sweeping the horizon. The seaward breeze blustered in such agreement that the gulls overhead cried out in alarm.

What will you do? The wind asked, delighting in whipping the gulls into a proper frenzy.

“Get rid of him, of course,” Severin replied.

What if you don’t want to?

Severin thought that was the stupidest question he’d ever heard. “He’s going to stab me through the heart. Why in the world wouldn’t I want to get rid of him?”

People are foolish, the wind answered, shrugging the nearby sails.

“Not me.” Severin leaned on his stick and looked out at the sea. “I won’t let anyone get away with stabbing my heart.”

When he was twenty-two, Severin knelt at the bedside of a withered, wilting woman. She was a stranger, but the town’s herb witch was away, and Severin happened to be passing through. Though his true strength would always remain with the wind and the sky, the youngest of Severin’s two aunts had a special way with plants, and she’d taught him a fair bit about the many healing properties of the region’s hardy, windblown flora.

He boiled water, adding the few herbs he carried to make a rejuvenating tea. He helped the woman drink, his hand supporting her head and fingers tangling in her sweat drenched hair. After, he pressed a cool cloth to her head, and in the half dark room, she murmured, sharing delirious fears that she would accidentally speak cruel dying words and lay a curse upon him.

Kindly stroking her forehead, Severin assured her that he was not afraid of curses. Even uttered by the dying, a true curse was rarer than the superstitious soldier’s and barbarians liked to believe. Besides, she wasn’t going to die. Severin, who’d seen just enough of the world to have a taste of wisdom, was certain he could save her.

She died within the day.

Whether her condition had been beyond help, or Severin lacked the skills to twist the herbs to his bidding, he would never know. The wind rustled reassurances through the sparsely-leaved trees, but Severin was beyond consolation. Clouds gathered on the horizon, and by nightfall, great branches of lightning crackled across the sky.

He spent the next year and a half in the wilds. Beneath the jubilant light of the sun, he collected plants, acquainting himself with the earth. And beneath the soft, watchful light of the moon, he whispered to the wind and dared to wonder at the shape of his enemy-lover’s face. He could never seem to summon the slightest picture in his mind. Though it really didn’t matter, he supposed. Their eyes would meet, and Severin would know. And then he’d use all of the power at his disposal to send his enemy-lover away.

During this time, Severin sometimes saw bands of barbaric warriors crossing the plains. He kept his distance, but he doubted any of them were interested in either recruiting or killing a scrawny young man in a worn woolen cloak. Few he encountered ever suspected he had any great abilities, and Severin certainly didn’t go out of his way to advertise the fact that he could command the wind and sky when he wished. The barbaric companies had their eyes on more obviously lucrative targets, anyway. A handful of city states which spread across the great peninsula were openly at war with the barbaric tribes from the north.

It was when Severin was returning from his self-imposed isolation that he had his first real encounter with war. He held his sturdy walking stick in hand and carried a bursting bag of herbs, poultices, and leather-bound journals over his shoulder. Severin was so surprised by the sudden, brutal clash of metal and the primal cries that erupted nearby that he halted where he stood. His curiosity both outweighed and outlasted his fear, and after a minute or two of tense consideration, he pressed cautiously onward in the direction of the noise.

By the time he arrived, the battle was done.

It had surely been an ugly, bloody affair, if the splayed out bodies of the city soldiers and barbaric warriors were anything to judge it by. Holding a hand over his mouth, Severin gingerly navigated the carnage and valiantly resisted the impulse to be sick right there in the field. He was nearly on the other side of it when movement caught his eye. Squinting, almost afraid to look, he glanced from the corners of his eyes, sure that it was some grotesque remnant of warfare which awaited him.

Instead, it was a man.

Just a man.

The movement Severin had spotted was the rise and fall of his chest.

Only after turning a careful look around the terrible and silent battlefield did Severin approach the fallen man.

The barbarian’s eyes were closed and his pale brows drew together, as if reflecting pain. His face would probably have been handsome in a rough, simple sort of way if it weren’t smeared in dirt and blood. His light hair, braided and pulled away from his face, was bloodied as well, and Severin frowned at the sorry state of him. After a second wary look around, he knelt with a sigh.

The barbarian’s leather vest was cut, and his thick, scarred arms had earned several new slices as well. Severin, who had more than enough herbs and poultices on hand, reluctantly tore his only spare shirt into bandages. Within the hour the stranger was fully bandaged and muttering in fever addled sleep.

“Don’t worry,” Severin murmured, knotting the last makeshift bandage. “I’ve learned enough from the plants and trees to save you from both fever and infection.”

Behind closed lids, the barbarian’s eyes flitted anxiously to and fro and he mumbled something that sounded like no. Nose wrinkling, Severin leaned in. He heard the sleeping barbarian say, his voice low and cracking, “The curses will take me.”

Severin frowned down at him, unimpressed. “No they won’t,” he snapped, and yanked the bandage tighter.

The barbarian silenced then, and Severin stared at him a moment longer, pursing his lips in consternation. It wasn’t that he minded using his supplies to heal a stranger. But a part of him worried that healing a warrior made Severin responsible for whatever slaughter he resumed when he rose.

Severin abhorred warfare. It was such a terrible waste. But he supposed there was no helping what he’d already done. The barbarian was already on his way to recovery, and Severin certainly wasn’t going to murder him in his sleep. He reached out, intending to test the temperature at the man’s temple, but no sooner had Severin’s fingers touched his overheated skin than the world bled around him. In its place: a vision.

Shock echoed through him, because he was not like the women in his family, able to see phantoms in time. He’d always simply played with the air. The vision dancing before his gaze, however, didn’t seem to care.

Like droplets of ink spreading in water, a prism of colors twisted, threading together into nearly tangible shapes. From the chaos, rose a blond child holding a knit sheep. He was ruddy cheeked and pouting up at his mother. Then ink and water swirled and the images collapsed and shifted. Hulking shadows loomed over the child. The mother wailed her grief. The formless ink shivered, morphing from one scene to the next, nearly too quickly to follow, and Severin was swallowed up in it, overrun and overwhelmed by violence, blood, and pain. Beneath his fingers, Severin felt the movement of shifting, slipping thread.

Just as abruptly as it had started, the vision ceased. Severin’s knees ached where they pressed against the dirt and the barbarian’s skin beneath his hand was no longer overheated. How long had he been within the vision’s grasp, he wondered?

As Severin shifted back, the barbarian groaned. Severin watched as the man’s eyelids fluttered - and at once, the air turned heavy, as if the wind had drawn and held an anticipatory breath.

Dread flooded Severin and he rushed to stand. The barbarian had not yet opened his eyes, and Severin knew with a terrible nameless certainty that he must not be here when this man awoke. Severin could still feel those elusive, unknowable threads beneath his fingers, and his hands shook as he rose. Awakened by his urgency, the wind roared, lending him speed as he fled the clearing.

By the time the barbarian cracked open a single, world weary eye, Severin was long gone, heart still safely beating in his chest.

Severin endeavored to forget about the barbarian. He convinced himself that the vision had been the hallucination of an overexerted body, and that the sensation of inexorably moving threads beneath his fingers was nothing more than a flight of fancy. Severin did not think about how the threads had felt - certain and unyielding - beneath his fragile, very mortal hands. If he did, he feared he might ask the wind to whisk him away from the world altogether, and that, surely, was no way to live.

In a deep, secret place, however, Severin suspected the reason he was granted such a vision was because the stranger’s thread was woven perilously close to his own. Because of this, he set upon an easterly road, endeavoring to put a healthy distance between himself and the pale barbarian.

After nearly a month of travel, he arrived in a small village which sat nestled in foothills, tucked beneath the shadows of great mountains which stood like sentinels above. Severin hadn’t intended to stay, but when it was discovered he had some skill with plants and medicine, the villagers eagerly led him to a hut some distance from the village. It was empty, they explained, and had been for some years. A healing woman had occupied it, some years back, before she’d passed on. The villagers had been saving it, hoping the space would be enough to entice a new healer to make their isolated village a home.

Severin had nowhere else to go, and he supposed a distant, mountain village was as good a place as any to avoid a blade to the heart.

Two years passed, and Severin settled into his little hut. He spent his mornings taking long walks around the surrounding lands, collecting herbs and specimens. Returning home, he’d throw open the windows to allow his friend the wind a brief but wild rampage through the hut. With the air freshened, Severin spread plants across his square dining table and sorted them into jars to be sealed, dried, or preserved in vinegar. His neighbors in the village visited frequently, just as often for his company as for his medicines, and Severin delighted in visiting the town on market days and making the streamers dance in the wind for the children. Evenings were spent in his rocking chair, with a book in his lap and his feet pressed near to the low fire in the hearth.

He was happy, and hardly thought of the barbarian he’d found bleeding in the dirt. That is, until fate caught up with him.

One day, when he was foraging for moss on the hillside behind his hut, Severin felt the whisper-soft touch of thread against his palm. He sat upright at once, and turning and craning his neck, he absently rubbed his palms against his robes.

A company marched into the village. From up on Severin’s hill, they appeared a swarm of ants overtaking the miniature thatched roof homes. The slipping, shivering feeling beneath Severin’s palm intensified, and he stood. His heart drummed a frantic beat against his ribs, and Severin felt with a terrible certainty that fate, like a hunting hound on the scent, had sniffed him out at last.

When Severin called out, begging the wind’s help, it rushed to him, howling atop the hill.

I am here. I am here.

Cradled in the gale, he begged the wind to take him and hide him away, so that the tapestry’s relentless threads might cease dragging him toward the one he never wished to meet.

So be it, the wind said. If that is truly what you wish, I will take you and hide you away forever.

In that moment, nearly caught as he was, Severin was willing to do anything to avoid meeting this man who would kill him - until the screams rose from the pastures in the valley beneath his hut. Severin’s heartbeat was in his throat, on his very tongue, as he held up a hand to stay the wind.

“Just a moment,” he murmured, and turned bright, pained eyes toward the village. The terrified screams of his neighbors pierced him as surely as any blade, and with a mournful twist of his fingers, he bade the wind disperse.

By the time he reached in the pastures, the shepherd, the blacksmith, and Helvia’s two sons lay dead. At the sight of his friend’s bodies, grief and rage stirred within Severin, and the wind, always nearby to him, trembled in sympathy. Gaze sweeping the warriors, he marked the five whose weapons were stained red. Severin was not violent by nature, but if he was to die this day, he resolved to remove from the earth at least these five men, who with bloodied blades, uncaringly spoke of feasting upon the village’s few precious sheep.

When the warriors turned and finally noticed Severin, he lifted his chin and prayed his voice did not betray his fear. “These are simple people. They have little in way of money or goods. It wasn’t for nothing that the shepherd, blacksmith, and teenagers died. They need these sheep. And I cannot allow you to take them.”

The men glanced at one another, eyes filling with a cruel sort of mirth. They laughed at him, and Severin steeled himself for what must come next. He was friends with the wind, but to call down the heavens was an entirely more serious matter. And he’d never done it. At least, not like this.

Severin turned his palms up and glared at the heavens, daring them to refuse him now when he needed them most.

For a long, terrible moment, nothing happened.

And then, the skies erupted.

He had never felt pure, visceral power in such a way, and as it whined and crackled, Severin, with splayed fingers, used all of his strength to tear the lightning from its home in the sky. It rained upon the warriors, screaming in wild, untamable fury. Severin watched the men cry out in agony, and he felt horror and satisfaction in equal measure.

When a single figure broke from the group, agile enough to evade the lightning and charge across the field, Severin could only look on in exhausted realization. It was the pale barbarian. The man from the battlefield. The child in the vision.

The barbarian charged like a beast, his thickly braided hair bouncing. His brows were drawn down in focus and his lips poised on the precipice of a snarl. It was with a hopeless sense of finality that Severin met the stranger’s gaze.

He met eyes of icy gray, the color of hazy, snow capped mountains in winter, and Severin knew, he knew with a certainty that was sunken into his bones and twisted in his marrow, that this barbarian was the shadow which had haunted him. And he knew, more than anything, the crude blade in the man’s scarred-knuckle hand was fate’s exclamation point at the end of Severin’s ephemeral existence.

Watching as the barbarian pivoted, drawing back his blade, Severin only wished he understood why the women in his family had persisted in calling this man Severin’s truest love. If this was love, the man had a spectacularly terrible way of showing it.

Time slowed to a crawl, and sunlight flashed, reflecting off the blade. As the jagged edge touched the fabric of Severin’s robe, the wind whispered at his ear. Let me show you a piece of the picture.

The wind around him froze, and so too did the world.

Look up, said the wind, a rustle within his ear.

Severin did.

The complexly woven image was shaped by currents in the air - all but invisible to any whose eyes are untrained to look for them. But Severin had a born understanding of the wind and sky, and when he looked up, he saw bits and pieces of an impossibly complex tapestry.

He saw scarred knuckles gently shaping wood. A small child that sat upon broad shoulders. Rocking chairs placed side by side before a glowing fire. Warm hands enveloping his own. Safety. Home.

It was...everything, and Severin’s heart ached with a strange and complex longing for a future that surely could never be.

It’s not impossible, the wind whispered. But the threads will have to tangle and untangle just perfectly so.

“How?” Severin asked, and wondered if he was a fool to feel so desperate a pull towards this life glimpsed in impressions and half images.

The warrior must weep and repent. And a curse must come to fruition.

“And if these things do not happen?”

Then your soul will fade from the earth.

Severin felt torn in two.

The blade has not yet struck your heart, the wind murmured, kind and conspiratorial. There is time still for me to secret you away. I could pull your thread from the tapestry altogether.

“But there would be no hope for that life,” Severin said with a last wistful glance at the scattered mosaic above.

No, none, the wind agreed.

“Okay,” Severin whispered, “okay.” And it felt terrifyingly like surrender.

The wind stirred, and a breeze like a kiss tousled his dark hair.

The blade struck.

It was an intense pressure and then swift, vibrantly blooming pain. Severin wavered on his feet, and looked up. For the second time, he met the warrior’s gaze. And Severin saw and understood that there was no malice in those wintry eyes. Not even frustration or anger. But, instead, an exhaustion deeper than Severin could conceive.

When Severin toppled backward, it was concerning to realize he could no longer feel the grass beneath his body. The man knelt down, and Severin blinked tiredly up at him.

It seemed as though the man were waiting for something. Severin’s slipping mind struggled to think of what - until he recalled the dying woman and her talk of curses. And hadn’t the barbarian said something about curses when he was fever addled and hurt? What had the wind said? Severin was struggling to remember. As his life trickled away in red rivulets which stained the grass and soil, he thought of the boy in the vision - lost and afraid. And he thought of the man he’d become, kneeling stonily over him.

And Severin knew exactly which words should be his last.

Swallowing, he mustered the strength to whisper, “-my hut…it’s just past…the next hill over. In it, I keep medicines and herbs. For the villagers. And travelers who pass.”

For the barbarian would have to stay if he were ever to show remorse. He couldn’t very well continue going about fighting and murdering his way across the peninsula. Which brought Severin to his final words. It took all of his remaining strength to lift his hand. When he reached out, the barbarian startled, as though he expected more lightning to spring forth from Severin’s fingers. But Severin merely tapped his chest and smiled. “May you live a life of safety and peace.”

It was a fitting curse, he thought, feeling particularly clever. And there, on the field, surrounded by sheep, Severin’s heart stuttered and stopped.

It was an abrupt, slipping sensation, like losing your footing on iced over earth. Raw existence rushed around Severin, and he was battered and blown about, like a banner torn loose in the storm. This continued for a dizzying moment, or perhaps a dizzying eternity - Severin really had no way of knowing which. But it stopped when a familiar presence surged around him, blowing and blustering until the wild chaos of existence was forced to let him be.

The wind could not protect him forever, Severin knew, and so he focused his energies until, like a wind sprite, he swirled about the hillside. Below him, he saw the barbarian, his great head bent. Severin, as incorporeal as a breeze, could not resist blustering over the barbarian’s shoulder and observing himself, limp and pitiful in death. Whipping around, he beheld the barbarian - because surely this sight would bring him at least to the verge of tears.

The barbarian frowned down at Severin’s body and rubbed a scarred hand over the patches of stubble on his chin. And then he rose with a great sigh and set off down the hillside, away from Severin and the village.

Severin, who was nothing more than wind and spirit, watched him and despaired. He could do nothing more than whip and howl through the hills as his murderer left him without a backward glance.

Months passed.

Severin did not follow after the barbarian. What good would it do? In this form, it wasn’t as though Severin could speak to him. And if he was doomed to fade and dissolve from existence, he would much rather do so here in the hills he loved than in some strange land trailing after an even stranger man. The wind kept him company, at least, and Severin spent his days whistling through the black, porous stones at the base of the mountains and blowing bits of dandelions across wild tufts of grass.

One day, long after Severin had begun to feel more spread out and thin than was entirely comfortable, the wind rushed to him, carrying with it the scent of dust and dirt and faraway lands.

The barbarian had returned.

Severin was an icy breeze that whipped around the edges of town, and he watched with cool distrust as the man trudged through the streets. His shoulders were slumped and his blond head was turned down. He looked utterly defeated, and any sympathy Severin might have felt was eclipsed by petty spite. He didn’t hold any of the pettiness against himself, though. He was dead, and therefore felt he’d earned at least a little pettiness.

When the barbarian crossed the field, stopping to stand before the place where Severin had fallen, Severin swirled around him, newly curious. The man didn’t look grief stricken, but his face was difficult to read. There were dark shadows beneath his eyes and lines of exhaustion around his mouth. Mostly, Severin thought he just looked tired.

When the man approached Severin’s home after having ignored the invitation for months, Severin had a second moment of pettiness and whipped the wind up on the other side of the door, sealing it closed as the barbarian tried to open it. Only when the man shoved it with his great, muscled shoulder did Severin retreat, allowing the door to swing open.

It was with a strange sort of melancholy that he watched the barbarian’s silver gaze sweep over the room. The man looked first at the damp, unkempt hearth before slowly making his way across the room. He glanced from Severin’s well-loved walking stick to the bookshelf built into the wall. He fumblingly ran the backs of his fingers along the spines of the books, as if he was unlearned in the ways of a gentle touch.

Severin was still very much put out about the whole being dead business, but as he watched the barbarian’s almost reverent inspection, he unthinkingly twisted the air in the room, drawing out the cold and pulling in a bit of sun warmed breeze.

By the second day, the man was sitting in Severin’s chair. Severin stewed, swatting at floating dust by the window as his killer rocked to and fro in Severin’s favorite seat. Later, the barbarian stood, stretching his strong arms overhead and twisted his back experimentally. Brows lifting in pleasant surprise, he gave the chair an appreciative pat.

By the third day, Severin had no more dust to swat about. The barbarian had rolled up his ragged sleeves and set about scrubbing every inch of Severin’s little hut. When the hulking man worked open the stiff windows, the wind rushed in, delighting in whipping about the space once more.

He’s done a better job of cleaning than you ever did, the wind sang, slipping once more outside.

He was dead and that meant the wind had to be nice, and Severin told it as much. It’s reply was a soft rustling of chimes that hung from the house’s eaves, and the sound was almost like laughter.

Days passed, and the man began reading Severin’s books. This was probably the most surprising development yet, in Severin’s opinion. It wasn’t that he hadn’t thought the large, scarred warrior capable of reading, just - well, he hadn’t thought the large, scarred warrior capable of reading particularly well. But the man seemed to be doing just fine, and sat in Severin’s rocking chair, putting a far greater strain on the sturdy wood than Severin ever had, as he thumbed carefully through the book’s smooth pages.

When little Mykela took ill, Severin knew it well before anyone else. He’d taken a spin through town and as he rode the wintry wind past where she played in the yard, he’d felt the rattle of air in her lungs. But at this point, Severin was little more than a memory on the breeze, and though his worry was agony, he could do absolutely nothing. He spent the rest of the day roaring about the mountain peaks, sending snow flurries spilling down the far side of the cliffs.

Two days later, Severin was idly observing the barbarian, watching the crease between his brows twitch as he slept, when a great pounding broke out against the door. The barbarian rose at once, and Severin watched him cast a brief glance at the walking stick before turning instead to the candle on a nearby shelf. With warm light cupped in his palm, the barbarian approached the door.

When Dormund, Mykela’s father, entered the hut, carrying a limp mound of blankets, Severin felt a spike of icy terror. As the barbarian poked and prodded the fire, Severin carefully stirred the wind to better feed the flames. Severin would have shouted instructions, had he lungs to shout, but the barbarian already had two jars in hand. He held them up, looking a little lost, before he hurried to the bookshelf and selected a thick book. Muttering under his breath, he flipped hurriedly through pages until he found what he was looking for. And then he was kneeling before the pot of water he’d set over the fire, and Severin watched as he scooped careful measurements of Severin’s dried herbs into the roiling water.

Mykela was saved, and as the barbarian sent the girl and her father off with a bag of herbs, it occurred to Severin that he wished to know the barbarian’s name. He wouldn’t learn it until two days later, when Old Cara arrived at the hut, seeking the barbarian’s help for her arthritic knee. After supplying her with the appropriate poultice, the barbarian helped her to the door, and looking up, she patted his shoulder and asked him his name.

Eindred, was his answer.

Eindred.

Severin wished he had lips to test the shape of the name.

Months passed, and was easier now to watch Eindred move about Severin’s hut. In fact, Severin had even begun to enjoy riding the soft breeze from the windows as it wafted around Eindred’s shoulders, curiously observing whatever small thing he happened to, at any given time, be doing with his hands. One day, Severin was surprised to find Eindred’s hands at work, deliberately whittling the curved back of a rocking chair. When the chair was done, Eindred set it carefully, almost reverently beside the first. At the sight, Severin had a bright, nearly overwhelming flash of recognition, and he thought of the image the wind had shown him - of the rocking chairs before a warm, crackling fire.

Severin was fading, he could feel it. To hope was to court a greater disappointment than Severin could rightly comprehend, and yet - he watched Eindred set out with Severin’s walking stick to join the festival, and saw when Mykela took his hand. The barbarian’s stony expression softened, then melted as the girl tugged him after her.

It was the strangest of sensations, because while Severin didn’t strictly have a heart these days, watching the great Eindred meekly follow little Mykela made something in Severin’s incorporeal being ache with unexpected warmth.

Whatsmore, Eindred had been reading Severin’s journals and he would sometimes stop and stare about the hut, as if trying to picture the ghost of Severin’s life there. Once, Eindred draped a thick blanket over the back of one of the rocking chairs and ran his rough hands over it as he frowned contemplatively into the fire.

Summer had come and gone and Severin feared that parts of his soul had already begun to slip into that other-place. And so, with a tender sort of weariness, he drifted on the sunbeams cutting through the clean window glass, and watched with only mild annoyance as Eindred carefully tore a blank page from one of Severin’s journals.

Lips pressing together in focus, Eindred wrote in with small, precise letters, what appeared to be a list.

Confused, Severin drifted closer.

May your every loved one die screaming in pain.

I hope you die with your eyes stabbed out and your heart in your hands.

You will never know happiness.

Your existence will be suffering.

It was a list of curses, Severin realized. Morbid curses, by the looks of it. The last two, however, caught his attention.

May your greatest enemy rise from the grave and never leave you alone.

And,

May you live a life of safety and peace.

And Severin understood.

When Eindred set out from the hut, looking drawn but resolved, Severin began at once to gather his energy. It had been nearly a year since his death, and he feared that there might not be enough of him left to make a return. The second to last curse would help things along, but Severin knew it would be a mistake to rely on it.

And so, as Eindred entered the village, Severin stretched upward and out, calling wind and storm clouds with reckless, hopeful abandon. For his entire life, Severin had lived, certain in the knowledge that love and happiness were not meant for one such as he. How could they be? When a blade was foretold to make a home in his heart?

But Eindred had changed. And the patchwork pieces of tapestry were there, a life Severin had never dared to dream of, right there - if he could only summon the strength to reach out and grasp it.

Below, Eindred bowed his head before the townsfolk, confessing his part in the tragedy which played out on their soil. Above, Severin swallowed the skies and became the storm.

Severin felt it, distantly below, when the people in the village forgave Eindred. And he felt when Eindred’s bittersweet tears tickled the earth. He felt Eindred return to the hut, and then after pacing restlessly about, return at last to the pastures where it had all begun.

And then came Eindred’s pained voice, calling out from the fields below. “Severin!”

Eindred had never said his name before, and Severin, who was the clouds and the wind and the rain and the sky, rumbled his joy at the sound of it.

“It was my hand which ended your life,” Eindred continued. His deep voice was shaking. “And with your dying breath you gifted what I thought was a nightmare. Did you know that it would turn out to be a dream? I think you did.”

Just wait, Severin wanted to tell him, because he’d seen a future better still. The only question that remained was whether he had strength enough to reach it.

Rugged face upturned, Eindred called to Severin and the sky, which were one and the same. “Though it’s a dream, I’ll never know peace. How can I? When I live in the home of the one I so coldly murdered? I would leave, but the villagers have my heart - as they had yours. In this state, I don’t think I’ll ever truly know true rest or true peace - despite the great power of your curse.”

You will, Severin said, and lightning streaked across the sky. I will.

“Even now,” Eindred said, through wind and rain, “I’m not sure if you are my greatest enemy or ally.”

There it was.

His greatest enemy.

Severin, with every ounce of power he possessed, claimed the title. For he was the greatest enemy the old Eindred, warrior and killer, had faced. With his parting curse, Severin had forced the old Eindred to do the one thing he’d feared most of all: to live and face all he’d done.

Severin felt a rushing, coursing energy thrumming within and without and he knew that he must catch it and hold it, though he wasn’t sure how.

The tapestry threads, the wind whispered. Severin had spread so thin, his old friend was nearly a part of him now.

Severin listened, and felt for that thread which had teased and tickled his palm. And when he was sure he felt it, he wrapped himself around it and pulled. The sky around him screamed as he dragged himself forward toward something - something -

White light was all around him, and then it wasn’t. The air was cool and damp, and the evening sang with the wind’s gleeful gusts and the soft patter of rain on grass. Severin lifted a hand, and looked it over in tentatively blooming relief. Pressing the hand over his heart which beat with a strong, steady rhythm, Severin breathed a relieved, ragged sigh.

Eindred stood in the field, turned away from him. Drawing in a breath, Severin delighted in the sound of his own voice. “May your greatest enemy rise from the grave, Eindred, and never leave you alone.” He smiled as he spoke, and very nearly pressed his fingers to his lips to feel the shape they took when saying Eindred’s name.

Eindred turned. “So you are my greatest enemy then?” He sounded wary.

“I don’t think it’s so simple as that. Do you?”

Eindred’s expression shifted and he shook his head. When he next spoke, it was soft and fumbling, as if he still hadn’t fully adjusted to a world which was kind. “I made a chair,” he blurted out. “A few actually,” he added, rubbing a hand over the back of his head.

Severin wanted to say, I know. I saw. But that would require more explanation than he cared to give at the moment, so instead, he replied, “Do I get the new rocking chair or my old one?”

“Any,” Eindred stammered, “Either. Both?” He looked at Severin, and the earnest weight of his gaze held the promise of all the chairs Severin could want and anything else Eindred could possibly make with his scarred hands.

The fondness that bubbled up within Severin was so abrupt and filled him so thoroughly that he wanted to laugh with it. “Lucky for you, I only need one chair. You can keep the old one if you like it. I trust your craftsmanship.”

Severin turned then, because it was cold and every part of him felt so entirely bright and buoyant that he thought he might die if he didn’t move. However, when he realized Eindred was not following, he stopped. “Well? Are you coming?”

Eindred looked up, as if he’d been startled. “Where?” he called.

Standing there, sodden in the field, Eindred looked after Severin, as if he was afraid to hope - as Severin once had been afraid to do. And it occurred to Severin that Eindred would need to hear it said aloud.

“Home, of course. Where else?”

“Home,” Eindred repeated, as if confirming it to himself.

And when Severin turned again towards home, Eindred followed.

By the time they reached the hut, both were shivering from the cold, and as they crossed the threshold into the warm space, Severin swayed on his feet. He’d almost forgotten the immense power he’d used, and now the harsh ringing in his ears was a stark reminder. Warm, rough hands steadied him and when Severin tilted his head up, he saw that Eindred wore an expression of poorly concealed terror.

“I’m not going to die all over again,” Severin assured him. “I just used a lot of magic.” As he said it, he swayed once more, this time falling forward.

Eindred caught Severin again, one arm wrapped around his back and his other hand braced against his chest. Beneath where Eindred’s palm pressed, Severin’s heart thrummed. And Severin watched, curious, as Eindred’s expression twisted. He no longer claimed the title of warrior, Severin knew, but it was nonetheless with a warrior’s gravity that Eindred met Severin’s gaze.

“These hands will never again harm you. I swear it.”

“I know,” Severin replied, and pressed a hand over the back of Eindred’s rough knuckles. “Help me to a chair?”

Eindred did, and helped to remove Severin’s thick outer robe before Severin sank gratefully in front of the fire. Eindred left him a moment, and Severin closed his eyes.

He intended to just rest them for a second - maybe two, but when Severin next opened his eyes, the room was darker and he was draped and bundled in blankets, softer and thicker than any he recalled owning. The fire was still crackling, and the warm light made soothing shadows dance across the hut’s wooden floor. The other chair was occupied, Severin realized, and he watched as the hearth’s orange light played across Eindred’s sleeping features. Compared to Severin’s mountain of blankets, he had just one draped over his lap, though he didn’t seem cold. Nonetheless, Severin shifted a bit, and peeled a soft fleece blanket off his own pile to toss it onto him. The blanket fell short, and with a quick whispered word, the wind slipped under the door and flipped the offending blanket up onto Eindred’s chest.

“That’s better,” Severin said.

The wind played a little with the fire before tousling Severin’s hair and departing with a sibilant, save your strength foolish human. You’re still recovering, and slipped out the way it had come.

When Severin turned back to Eindred, he saw the large man was sitting up and his eyes were now open. Blinking, Eindred rubbed a hand over his face and then, stiffening in sudden shock, he whipped to look at Severin. Heaving a great sigh, he rocked back in the chair. “Still breathing,” he said.

“I don’t plan on stopping.”

Something almost like a smile twitched at Eindred’s lips and Severin was enchanted by it.

“You were dead and now you’re alive. Forgive me. I’m still trying to wrap my head around it.”

“You’re the one who believes in silly curses.”

Eindred’s brows rose. “Silly? Says the one who was brought back from the dead by one.”

Severin waved a dismissive hand. “The curse might have set the stage, but I was director, crew, and cast.”

And there was another smile, like a glimpse of sun between clouds. Severin was beginning to fear there might be no practical limit to the lengths he’d be willing to go to see another smile.

“I’ll take your word for it,” Eindred replied. “I get the feeling you know a great deal more about the world and magics than I.”

“Well Eindred,” Severin said, scooting his chair a little closer to both Eindred and the fire. “What do you know of grand tapestries?”

Eindred, looking more than a little lost, shook his head. “Nothing. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen one.”

“Well,” Severin said, and grinned. “What do you know of cheese?”

EDIT: A novel based on Eindred and the Witch and The Witch Who Spoke to the Wind is in progress! I will post news about it on my Tumblr and my Patreon as news becomes available :)

#my writing #original writing #my story #Eindred and the Witch #original story #fantasy #fantasy story #love story #eindred the warrior #severin the witch #writing #writeblr #short story #long short story #7000+ words #fantasy short story #amwriting #story

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kamino-blues · 3 years

Text

Self-Care With the Bad Batch

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: brief mentions of nudity (non-sexual), references to making out

I’ve been really focused on self-care recently due to coming off of finals week, so I wanted to write the Bad Batch participating in some self-care with the reader! Hope you enjoy!

Hunter

Hunter had witnessed you doing face masks after long missions, relaxing on your bunk with your eyes closed

He at first thought that you looked kind of silly, especially with the paper facemarks that you frequently bought for easy application

But seeing how relaxed you looked, he secretly really wanted to try one

It didn’t come out until late at night when you and him were having a conversation about his senses

He thought that it could be a way to calm down his senses when his senses go into overload

Hunter mentioned this to you, and you automatically got up and looked through your face masks, pulling out a bottle and two headbands

You had been preparing to ask him if he wanted to try one out, but finding a time through the chaos of missions and time away from his brothers was hard

You showed him the one that you specially picked out for him, it being a scentless calming mask that you had picked up on Coruscant

Hunter was incredibly awkward with the whole process at first, not knowing exactly what to do

So this is why you took over!

You quickly grabbed one of the headbands (It was a light red and had small Tooka shaped ears on the top), and moved to sit in front of him

He ended up pulling you into his lap, giving you a quick kiss before you started your magic

You gently took his famous headband off, not wanting to get mask on it, and ran your fingers through his hair gently

He leaned into this touch, absolutely loving it when you do that

You finally pulled his hair back in the headband that you had bought him, making sure no hair was on his face

You would usually use a brush, but you figured it would be more intimate to use your fingers to put the mask on

Hunter had his eyes closed, flinching a tiny bit as the cool liquid came in contact with his skin

After a few moments, you had coated his face, and you ended up giggling because of how his tattoo was completely covered

He raised an eyebrow at that, before you jumped off him and let him look at himself in the mirror

As he stared trying to figure out the mask, you had quickly put on your matching headband and started placing the face mask on

Hunter noticed this, and lightly grabbed your wrist to stop you, grabbing the tube to put the mask on for you

It was a little bit of a messy process, but after a few minutes he managed to evenly get it on

After he had washed his hands, you dragged him back to his bunk, his arm around you as you both unwound from the long day

This became a daily activity, Hunter not giving a shit if the others teased him about it

Crosshair

It was not often that the Bad Batch stayed on planet in someplace other then the Havoc Marauder

But this was one of the rare occurrences, there being three rooms to share between the six of you

You and Crosshair were sharing, which was absolutely perfect

The two of you had been together for a while at this point, completely comfortable with each other

So when you discovered that there was a bath with a whole slew of products to put in it, you were over the moon

Crosshair wasn’t a big self-care kind of guy, you had tried to get him to do a face mask once, but he refused profusely

You quickly got the bath started (It was a nice bath, probably the largest you had ever seen), putting lavender bubble bath in

Walking out, you saw Cross laying on the shared bed, arms crossed with his eyes closed

You called out to him, asking him if he wanted to join you in the bath

He stared at you for a second, then nodded with a smirk

You were honestly shocked at how fast he agreed (but you weren't complaining)

You quickly grabbed your sleep clothes (aka one of the tops of Crosshairs blacks and some shorts) and placed them on the counter in the refresher, and started undressing

You were in the bath before Crosshair walked in, completely engulfed in bubbles (yeah you accidentally put to much in but shhhh the more bubbles the better)

He rolled his eyes at this, a small smile on his lips as he pulled off his shirt off

You turned away, giving him his privacy as he slipped out of the rest of his blacks, feeling the water behind you shift as he stepped in

Once he settled, you automatically leaned back into him, his arms slipping around your waist

No words needed to be said in this moment, both of your eyes closed as you both basked in each others presences

This was one of the things that made you fall in love with Crosshair, the ability to communicate with actions instead of words

You and Cross stayed in the water until it got cold, him pulling you into a kiss before you got out

You quickly got changed, him following suit before heading to bed

This evening made Crosshair definitely consider getting the batch to stay off ship more often

Tech

When you first started traveling with the Bad Batch, you weren’t able to bring all of your usual skin care with you

So you trying to adjust with what you had was difficult- especially since most of the soap that was on the ship was the basic GAR supplied soaps

The first time you guys stop on Coruscant and you have free time, you are automatically stopping at a drugstore to at least get some of the basics

While holding a container of moisturizer, you heard someone behind you tell you that the brand isn’t a good choice

Startled, you almost drop the container as you turn around, coming face to face with Tech

You two had been dating for a few weeks at this point, and you hadn’t even realized that he had followed you on your little outing

He held onto your shoulder, helping you pick out different brands that you had not even heard of

You truthfully weren’t expecting him to know so much about skin care, but you were truthfully grateful for it

When you both got back to the ship, Tech pulled you into the refresher, closing the door behind him

You were startled, but when he pulled out the stuff that you both had bought it clicked quickly what he was doing

He brought his hands to caress your face, slowly moving into your hair so that he could pull it back for you

Tech started putting what you guys had bought on your face, the experience being a lot more intimate than you expected

By the time he was done, your cheeks were bright red, and you leaned up to kiss him, wrapping your arms around his neck

It ends up in a make-out session, both of you leaving the bathroom a flustered mess

Every time you guys were on a planet with a store selling skin-care products, Tech would always want to check it out with you

He ends up making a skin-care routine for you <3

After a while he joins you in the routine, solely just so that he could feel your touch when you applied it to his face

Tech never lets you do this by yourself, he always wanted to help (He enjoyed talking to you while he helped you, plus being able to make-out after was a great motivator)

Wrecker

Wrecker wasn’t one to slow down, if he had it his way he would be moving 24/7

You had tried to do face masks with him before, but he much more preferred to unwind in other ways

He absolutely loved to work out, so you decided to ask him if he wanted to do a small workout before you headed off to bed

Wrecker agreed automatically, giving you a big thumbs up

You were usually pretty tired by the end of the day, so you figured that you could get him to possibly try yoga

But before you dropped that question on him, you started with a jog, running around the area outside of the ship

The atmosphere was so peaceful, him keeping pace with you as the sun's setting on the planet you were on faded in the distance

He was just wearing his blacks, and you were just wearing a simple workout outfit that you had on hand

Around halfway through the jog, he reached over, grabbing your hand with a huge smile

If you got tired, he would stop you, quickly picking you up, your legs wrapping around his waist and your arms wrapping around his neck

You would press kisses against the side of his head and neck, while Wrecker jogged back to the ship

You felt so secure in his embrace, his arms holding you safely in place

Once you get back to the ship, Wrecker lightly pulled you away, not without pulling you in for a kiss

When you were back on your own two feet, that was when you threw the question out about ‘yoga’

You convince him to do it by challenging him to see who could do the tree pose the longest

It becomes a huge competition, lots of giggling and trying to get the other distracted so they would fall over

Wrecker ended up falling first, you laughing as you went out of the pose to run over to him, plopping down next to him to jokingly gloat about your victory

He quickly managed to shut you up by pulling you into his lap and putting his lips on yours

Echo

The Bad Batch moved around so much with the amount of missions they had, so it was hard to stop and focus on what’s happening around

So you and Echo had developed a routine when you were planet-side

Bringing two of the light spare blankets from the ship outside, you would both hunt for a perfect clearing to settle down for the evening

You would sneak snacks out, and lay one of the blankets out to have a makeshift picnic

Now the main event wasn’t the picnic, but it was fun swapping stories with Echo about both of your pasts

Since you were away from Echo's brothers, catch you guys sneaking secret kisses

He was still trying to get used to a lot of contact so it wasn’t anything that steamy, but you both enjoyed it <3

When the sun set, you would pull that second blanket out, pulling it over both you and Echo

He would pull you against him, your backs hitting the ground as you stared straight up at the stars

Echo would start to point out different stars, jokingly trying to figure out what shapes they were making

You would quickly join in, making up stories about the different speckles in the sky that you could see

After a while you would both go silent, just taking in how peaceful the atmosphere was

Catch you falling asleep against Echo, him realizing after a while and looking down on you with a small smile

He would pick you up bridal style (Him being extra careful since of his arm prosthetic), bringing you back to his bunk

Echo would quickly run back, grabbing the blankets you had left out there

Shifting you carefully, he would hold you facing him, both of you lying under the blankets that you had hoarded

He would kiss your forehead, before you both drifted off to sleep

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jimlingss · 4 years

Text

Maybe Baby Retreat

➜ Words: 12.7k

➜ Genres: 50% Fluff, 50% Smut

➜ Summary: In an attempt to conceive, Taehyung discovers a five day retreat dedicated to help with the impregnation process but you're fairly certain that the entire thing is a scam.

[Day One] Taehyung should be fucking you. It’s a bit crass to be grumbling that he’s not sticking his sperm in you, but your fertile window begins today and if he really wants a kid as much as he says he does, you wouldn’t be on a godforsaken bus. The yellow school bus jumps and jolts as it goes down the jagged, unpaved road. Every bump is felt in the back by ten folds as you’re rocked from side to side on the seat and not on your husband’s dick. Said man is too busy singing along with the guide that’s living it up with a mic in hand and his voice on the intercom. He’s trying to bring up the morale, but you’re not having it. Instead, you turn to the window and stare out at the empty countryside that stretches across the horizon. There’s not a car in sight and if you swear to god if you’re being shipped to a serial killer’s farmhouse, you’re dragging Taehyung down to hell with you. “You’re frowning, sweetheart,” he says while leaning over to you, flashing a blazing grin much to your chagrin. “You know stress isn’t good for the baby.” “It’s not like it matters. There is no baby.” “Not yet.” Taehyung throws an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into him as you scoff. You’re aware being a Debbie Downer isn’t going to help anyone but it’s hard to loosen up when you’re so on guard and skeptical about this whole thing. When you’re surrounded by noisy strangers who are all too overfamiliar. You suppose it was your fault to begin with. All those nights of staying up to read about tricks and tips of conceiving led Taehyung to discover the Baby Retreat. A five day sanctuary that ensures people will be able to conceive. The moment you saw it, you were certain that the whole thing was a scam, but your sweet summer child husband was wholly convinced and no matter what you said, it wouldn’t change his mind. “Who knows, it might actually work, right?! And if it doesn’t, then it looks fun anyway! When was the last time we had a vacation together?” It’s also your fault for being so soft. You couldn’t shut Taehyung down when he was so enthusiastic, so here you are. You took off a week off work and on your fertile day, you’re shipped onto a school bus out into the middle of nowhere. “Oh! Looks like we’re here, folks!” The vehicle slows as it turns into the gravel parking lot and the guide smiles as he peers out the windshield. “Welcome to the Baby Retreat! I hope you leave with a few buns in the oven! And if not, then don’t worry, you can still eat for two here!” There’s a few snickers and once the bus parks, everyone gets up, slowly shuffling out and stretching their legs. The air is sweltering hot and the sun beams down onto the back of your neck, making it uncomfortable to breathe. You’re panting with sweat built on your hairline as you drag your luggage through the grass. But no one seems bothered by it. Maybe because they’re excited that they’re here, they have the energy to fill the field with their chatter. Even Taehyung is grinning and he’s a certified whiner when it comes to hot weather. The guy blasts the air conditioner during summer until it feels like it’s winter. Though you have an inkling it’s just a tactic so you can cuddle up to him for warmth before bed. “Come on, slowpoke!” Taehyung breaks through your train of thought and then abandons you by running ahead like a hyperactive five year old. “I’d be faster if you helped me!” Taehyung doesn’t hear you. You wonder if you married a child — but you suppose that’s why you called him the light of your life during your vows. Like Yoongi once said at the dinner reception, Taehyung’s excessive energy is indeed a double-edged sword. You follow the stream of people to the center building, a modern wooden structure in the middle of the fifteen yurts that form a circle. It surprisingly looks alike to the advertisements, each with a porch and steps up to the door. The grass is verdant and pliant beneath your feet, the numerous trimmed trees around providing some nice shade and the flower beds give bright splashes of colour to the place. If this retreat wasn’t oddly centered around impregnation, you would’ve been convinced that it was a fancy camping resort. “Welcome everyone! Welcome to the Baby Retreat! I hope the trip here wasn’t too bad!” You finally join Taehyung’s side and look towards the stage in front of the main building. There’s a man with a half-moon smile and chubby cheeks in a loose tunic and taupe pants. He stands next to a woman in a baggy poncho holding a ukulele for reasons beyond you. “I see some familiar faces here! To all those already familiar with the Baby Retreat, welcome home. I’ll try to keep this short and simple, so you’re not too bored.” He claps his hands together with a bright smile. You look around at the crowd to see elated expressions. “My name is Park Jimin and this is my girlfriend, Song Hyunjin. A little about us, we’ve been together for over ten years and yes, we have an open relationship with each other, but that does not mean we aren’t in love with each other.” He draws her in, nuzzling into her without shame and she giggles. “To our new faces, trust me, you’ll find out soon enough.” Jimin pulls away with an enormous grin. “We haven’t had any children ourselves, but don’t worry. We’re reproductive endocrinologists with proper training and medical degrees. But we started this retreat four years ago to take a more unconventional approach to reproduction. And for the next five days, we have the honour of hopefully helping you ladies conceive and you males impregnate your partner!” There’s some exchanged smiles and Taehyung looks at you with hopeful eyes. It feels better to hear these people aren’t uneducated and talking out of their ass, but you’re still unsure how to feel. Hyunjin laughs. “Not only that, our goal is to help you relax and truly deepen your relationship with your partner. While we can’t promise a hundred percent success rate, hopefully you’ll leave this place feeling more refreshed than you did before. With that being said, please feel free to come up and ask us any questions. We’re very open people who are more than happy to help you in your process of expanding your wonderful families. There is nothing more beautiful than pregnancy and birth.” She jumps off the stage and grabs a wooden crate. With a smile, she begins passing out packs. Jimin continues, “For the next five days, we’ll be helping everyone improve their diets and exercise habits while getting plenty of vitamin D. What my lovely Hyunjin is handing out now are your survival kits!” “For men, fenugreek supplements are given to improve your sperm counts and for the ladies, there are prenatal vitamins and folic acid. There’s also a guide to the activities provided around here and a map, some sunscreen and other knick-knacks to remember your time here. Don’t worry, we won’t bombard you with any pregnancy pamphlets or information. I’m sure you’re tired of hearing about that.” It’s a bit refreshing to hear. You’ve been neck deep in research about conception that it’s been hard lately — another reason that you agreed to Taehyung’s whims. “Are you the Kim family?” Hyunjin asks and when you confirm it, she hands both you and Taehyung cute pouches. You reluctantly take it, but when you thank her, she happily smiles. “Welcome to the Baby Retreat.” The introduction drags on for a bit more before Hyunjin admits that it’s hot and that everyone’s probably tired, so the meeting ends and you open your pouch and find information on your yurt. “Not too bad, right?” Taehyung can tell by the look on your face as you gaze up at your white-tented yurt. “We’ll see,” you mumble and he takes the luggage, following behind you. “I thought we were going to spend five days in an orange tent, so I guess this is better by default.” “An orange tent?” He laughs. “But I showed you the commercial! Did you not pay attention?” “People lie on advertisements all the time, Tae.” But to your surprise, the interior of the yurt is even better than expected. It looks like a cozy cabin, wooden panel walls that separate the full kitchen from the full bathroom and provides some privacy to where the queen sized bed is. Light comes in from the top, filling the space with luminescence. There’s a mini-fridge filled with goods, plush towels set on the table with a personalized welcome card, down duvets that are soft to the touch. And it’s wrecked the moment Taehyung jumps on the bed with his arms and legs wide open like a starfish. He rolls over and props his head up with his hand — in the position where he often asks you in a breathy voice to paint him like one of your french girls. And he uses the same voice on you now while wiggling his brows, “Wanna ruin the sheets with me?” You burst out laughing, but it sounds all too tempting. He could probably dump a load in you within five minutes, though you’re not sure if anyone could hear you from the outside. “Didn’t they say there’s planned activities in an hour? What if we don’t show up.” “It’s fine. People come here for one reason anyway.” There’s a pause. “To fuck.” You roll your eyes, setting your suitcase next to the bed and you look at the nightstand to notice mineral oil lubricants. You’re mildly impressed at the details. “Thanks, Captain Obvious.” “They won’t miss us.” Taehyung’s own attention is taken to a wooden basket on a shelf of the irregular shaped bookshelf and he comes over, only to grin when he sees what’s inside. “Honey. I think we should have some fun tonight.” You turn around, wondering what he’s up to now. But any snarky remarks die on your tongue when you find a leather whip in his left hand and a ten inch, neon pink dildo in his other hand. “Is that...even sanitary?!” You can’t imagine how many people have used it. “We can find out.” Taehyung fiddles around with it, pushes a button and the dildo begins to rotate, making the both of you laugh. “Honey, we gotta give them five stars on Yelp! They have a communal sex toy bin for us to use! We can’t get this anywhere else.” “Oh god. I’d rather not share my sex toys with anyone.” The two of you are interrupted by muffled folk music that begins to leak inside and it persuades you to go out. “C’mon, we should go check out what they have. If we have to spend five days here, we might as well meet some other people too and be social or whatever.” Taehyung grins, tossing the dildo back into the basket and joining your side. “You’re liking this place, aren’t you?” “No. I just think the yurt’s half-decent.” Taehyung can see right through you, but it’s a bit too early for the ‘told you so’ spiel so he holds back and the both of you step outside of the yurt. There’s a few people hanging around and the weather is more bearable as the sun slowly begins moving and setting over the horizon. You meet friendly newlyweds who are surprisingly having their honeymoon here. “We just can’t wait to have kids,” Rose, the young twenty three year old, says as she embraces her husband, Hoseok. They’re no strangers to publish displays of affection, openly kissing up on each other. It would make you a bit uncomfortable if not for how touchy Taehyung is as well. When you first got together all those years ago, your friends teased you about it but it’s been years since. No one’s a stranger to how you plop yourself down on Taehyung’s lap or how he might kiss you and then steal your food right off of your own plate. “When we saw that the retreat offered a honeymoon package, we just couldn’t resist,” Hoseok says, but you’re not sure if he’s talking to you and Taehyung or his wife with how much he gazes at her. It’s a sweet sight though. You remember that honeymoon period. “Remember when we were that young?” you ask as you leave to the other side, giving the couple some much needed privacy. It was obvious they weren’t up for more conversation with the way they’re shifting and staring at one another. “When you were still hot? Yeah. I do—” Taehyung bursts out laughing when you jab him. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding! You’re still hot, okay? The hottest chick here and you’d make the hottest MILF too.” “Damn straight.” The pair of you also run into another couple that’s older and appears a lot more comfortable with the place. “Oh, this is actually our second time here! The first time gave us the four year old troublemaker running amok back at home.” You blink in surprise, suddenly more interested in the conversation. “This place...worked for you?” “It sure did.” The woman, Dahyun, smiles. “Some people didn’t have as much luck as we did, but we had so much fun last time that we knew we just had to come back. We were actually staying in your yurt last time.” She points and you swivel your head over, intrigued. “Huh.” Taehyung raises a brow, noticing how engaged you are and the corner of his mouth tugs. Her husband, Seokjin, chuckles heartily. “We thought it was time to give our son a younger brother, so here we are! Tonight’s the welcome party and just a word of advice, I really recommend getting some of that grilled salmon. It’s absolutely delicious.” “Just let them eat whatever they want, Jin,” his wife sighs in exasperation. “I’m just saying! I would’ve liked to know last time — I would’ve gotten two plates before they ran out.” “This is why the doctor told you to eat less of everything. You ate more than I did when I was pregnant with Youngjae.” “I can’t help that I’m eating for three! For your information, I’m carrying the entire family on these broad, broad shoulders of mine. Soon, I’ll have to start eating for four.” Dahyun turns to you and Taehyung who are amused at their bickering. “I’m sorry. Please ignore him.” It’s not a bad place, at least not so far. You weren’t sure what you were anticipating, but on the entire way here, you were worried that it was a scam your poor husband fell for. Luckily though, it seemed like the accommodation is good and the people around are friendly and welcoming, coming from different kinds of backgrounds and walks of life. It makes you feel better about not having internet connection or being murdered in the middle of the night. The welcoming party turns out to be fairly nice too, and like Seokjin said, the food is delicious. It’s a buffet style with tables set out, full of what Jimin declares is antioxidant-rich foods. He and Hyunjin go on a tangent about the benefits, how soy and estrogen foods have been limited, how there’s an emphasis on fruits, vegetables, carbohydrates, proteins and folic acid, and you’re sorely impressed at the attention to detail they provide. “Oh my god. The salmon is amazing and have you tried these beans, Tae?!” Taehyung laughs as he watches you eat, eyes lifted to look at you across the rounded table. “I thought you hated beans.” “I do. But try it.” You lift your fork and he happily leans over, taking a bite. He swallows it down and smiles at how you stuff your cheeks. After dinner, the pair of you gather with the rest to watch a few performances held on the main stage. Jimin introduces other staff members who sing, dance and Hyunjin even does a number with her ukulele, belting out some indie songs while standing bare feet. It’s bizarre and a bit surreal to be sitting back in a lawn chair and watching some chick with flowers in her hair jump around and try to entertain you, but it’s not completely unwelcome. If anything, you were sort of having fun. The sun had set, making the weather milder. The breeze was warm against your cheeks and the fairy lights strung above were twinkling. The whole atmosphere lulled you and with your head leaning on Taehyung’s shoulder, every blink became heavier and heavier. “This is nice,” you mutter and he catches it. Your husband turns his head with a tiny smile. “Yeah?” “Mhmh...” You feel a wet kiss being planted at the top of your head and you decide to indulge, closing your eyes for just a moment. But the next time they open, you realize that the crowd has thinned, they’ve put on music on the stereo and Taehyung’s windbreaker is draped on top of you as a makeshift blanket. “Hey there, sleepy head.” He grins at you when he notices your lashes fluttering. “Want me to carry you back to the yurt?” “I’m fine.” It takes a second to get up and you stretch your arms out before the both of you make your way back to the yurt. There were a few younger couples lingering around and still taking in the scenery, but the years were catching up to you quickly and all you wanted was to dive into the sheets and satiate the rest of your sleepiness. “How long was I out for?” “About half an hour?” Taehyung fishes for the key and opens the door. “I didn’t even realize I was so tired.” You manage to kick off your shoes and beeline to the bathroom to brush your teeth. “Of course, you were tired. You didn’t even sleep on the bus and for the past few days you’ve been up late doing research.” You mumble incoherently, not having enough energy to argue with Taehyung and he grins, nudging you aside so he can grab his own toothbrush. In the next ten minutes, it’s lights out. You’re rolled onto the bed, tucked into the warm sheets like a burrito, and Taehyung’s settled in as well. You hear his exhale and you allow your muscles to relax in the comfortable darkness. The exhaustion that’s been built from the entire day washes over you. But before you can drift off, in the quietness of the room, you remember. And you reach out, arm stretched, feeling for your husband. Taehyung hums when you tap his shoulder. You feel him shift and mumble, “What’s wrong?” “I’m fertile,” you mutter with your eyes closed. “You need to stick your dick in me.” He bursts out laughing and his arm slings over your abdomen. “It’s okay if we don’t have sex tonight, you know.” You sigh, too fatigued to get up and do the job yourself. “We’re gonna miss our opportunity, Tae.” A soft kiss is pressed to your temple, and you feel yourself losing the fight to keep your consciousness. “We’ll have other chances. Relax.” “Relaxing….isn't gonna give us a baby.” “No, but it will keep my current baby sane.” After being together for so many years, Taehyung knows how to make his words sound sweet and enticing. And before you can even damn him for always catering to you and babying you, you’ve fallen asleep in his arms.

[Day Two] Breakfast is as incredible as dinner was. There’s a full fruit platter that’s apparently all organic and a number of carbohydrates to fill yourself all the way to lunch. But you begin to regret eating so much with the scheduled activity that follows. “Couples yoga is a way to build intimacy and trust with your partner.” Hyunjin and Jimin smile brilliantly and you wonder if they’re happy go lucky all the time. It must be fucking exhausting. “Taehyung.” You nudge the man beside you who’s intently listening and he turns his head. “You know I’m not flexible at all.” “Don’t worry.” He flashes a blazing grin. It’s way too early for this. “This is just for fun and I’ll catch you if anything.” “No. Last time I tried doing yoga, I pulled a muscle in my thigh—” “Oh look. They’re doing the first pose!” Your husband excitedly lugs you down and you’re forced to comply, crossing your legs and facing him. It’s simple at first. There are basic poses with him leaning against you. Although it is hard to find a good balance considering how tall Taehyung is and even for being lanky, he’s quite a bit stronger than you are. But when Hyunjin and Jimin begin to twist themselves around and Jimin holds her up by the feet with a single hand, you know it’s impossible. Unlike Taehyung, you never did cheerleading or any acrobatics. “You’re going to drop me or I’m going to snap your spine, Tae!” “Don’t you trust me?” You look at your half-monkey, half-clown of a husband. “Do you really want to know the truth?” The both of you collapse into a heaping mess before he can confirm or deny. He laughs and starts tickling you for not being able to listen until you’re begging him to stop before you look more like an idiot than you already do. There’s a few couples who do a good job and you giggle when Taehyung mutters passive aggressive comments on how they’re teacher’s pets or that their form is awful. But there’s the fair share of other pairs who do as bad as you, namely Seokjin and Dahyun, the old couple from last night, bickering at being unable to do any poses. You can’t say that couple’s yoga is particularly relaxing, but it’s silly and you find yourself having fun. Hyunjin leads the cool down exercise and Taehyung nearly whacks you in the head with how he stretches. Your glare gains his exaggerated pout then cheesy smile. “Now as the very last cool down exercise, we’re going to take our partners by the hand.” You mimic her and clasp Taehyung’s hands, awaiting further instructions. “And we’re going to gaze into their eyes.” What? “Focus into the colour of their irises, how brown or blue or green they might be, or even the pattern of them. Sometimes we don’t truly look at one another like we should.” “What are they even saying?” you mutter and the corner of Taehyung’s mouth twitches. In spite of how bizarre it is, you follow and stare into Taehyung’s rounded eyes. They’re brown. Like they’ve always been. But you must admit, when the morning sunlight catches his irises at particular angles, the colour is a lighter shade than usual. They’re quite bright too. “They say if we gaze into the eyes of someone we love, our heartbeat synchronizes together.” What? Your brows furrow skeptically and you’re about to turn away, but suddenly Taehyung grabs a hold of your chin. “Don’t look away,” he commands with an authoritative voice and you swallow hard. “Okay.” You focus your eyes to enlarge and focus. “I’m looking.” You wonder if this is a staring contest, but even with his wolfish smile and being married for so long, Taehyung’s intent stare starts to make you feel vulnerable. You wonder if he’s always looked at you so affectionately. More importantly, you realize that even with all his dumb antics — like deciding to paint the fence green and then stopping halfway or ripping out the cabinets in the kitchen and never replacing them like he intended — you still love this sweet and kind dummy. “Alright. Everyone can relax now,” Jimin announces softly as he claps and you finally blink a few times, eyes stinging from how you forced them open. “That’s the end of this session. Thank you for joining everyone.” Yet, Taehyung holds your gaze a moment longer. And before you can pipe up and tell him it’s over, the man leans in and presses a soft kiss to your lips. He smiles when he pulls away. “As much as sweat is a good look on you, I think it’s time to shower, Mrs. Kim.” You scoff and he holds your hand with an enormous grin, dragging you back to the yurt. The two of you hop into the shower together, a habit that Taehyung insists is to save water for the good of the environment, but you swear half the time, you end up wasting more than if either of you do it separately. You’re sure that right now is one of those times. “Hey.” You turn around as he’s lathering up his shampoo. “Hey, yourself.” He smiles and shifts towards the stream of water before screaming at how hot it is. Taehyung quickly adjusts it, dissipating the fog on the glass. “Why do you like bathing in molten lava, woman?” “You always make it too cold.” You scoff, but don’t dwell on the argument as you lean into his backside. “Listen, should we get a quickie in?” Taehyung frees himself of the soap and looks at you. “If we do, we’ll miss lunch and then the hike.” “We’re going on a hike?!” “Yep, so hurry up cause if we don’t get lunch, we’re not gonna make it!” He gets out of the shower, leaving you to be bludgeoned by the ice, cold water. You sigh in exasperation. The purpose of coming here is to conceive, not go on a hike. But with how enthused he is, you begrudgingly join. Afternoons are the worst out here. The sun is sweltering and there isn’t an ounce of a breeze or a wind. As a result, the heat stifles and lingers without dissipating, causing sweat to dampen your clothing and stick to the back of your neck. The weather exhausts you and you feel your creamy lunch pasta up your throat again as you lug your legs up the steep, rocky incline. No matter how much you try to keep up, you fall behind from the group. Taehyung twirls around with a big grin, mouth perfectly symmetrically. “Are you okay?” “W-What does it look like?” you pant. It’s unfair that Taehyung works out once a year and treats his body like a candy trashcan but is still more fit than you are. “I can carry you if you want.” “You’re going to snap in half carrying me.” You pass him as he laughs. You hear him catch up, feet skipping along like he’s playing hopscotch. Then suddenly, you feel yourself being lifted off the ground and you shriek, arms looping around Taehyung’s neck. You’re scooped up in his arms like he’s about to kick down the door into the bedroom, but instead, he starts sprinting up the path like a maniac. “Taehyung!” you squeal and he laughs again. “Isn’t this better?” “Aren’t you tired?” “If I say yes, you’re gonna think I’m trying to tell you to lose weight, but for the record, I like how soft you are.” You roll your eyes, embarrassed as you pass a few couples, but none of them seem to find it bizarre and they even smile warmly at you and Taehyung. Yet, he starts to slow down tremendously after a few minutes, panting and sweating profusely. You ask him if he’s going to put you down yet, but you underestimate just how stubborn your dear husband is. Taehyung refuses until you’re up at the top of the trail, making it to where Jimin and Hyunjin are by the waterfall. There, you’re finally on set on your feet again. You pass him your water bottle. “Drink it before I’m the one dragging you down.” He grins and downs it. Up here, it’s much more refreshing and easier to breathe. There’s a tiny waterfall coming from the higher mountains and there are trees around to provide shade. When you squint, you can see the campsite at a distance with all the yurts. “We should take some pictures!” Taehyung declares when he steadies his breath and pulls out his selfie stick from the hideous fanny pack that you still won’t admit is pretty convenient. “Your mom is gonna want a copy so don’t pull any ugly faces, Tae.” “My face is never ugly.” He tugs you beside him and snaps a few shots before reviewing them carefully. Taehyung always had an eye for these kinds of things. “We didn’t get a good angle of the water.” “I can take it for you.” “What’s the point if we’re not together?” His thick brows are furrowed, lips lopsided, sighing. A matronly and friendly voice pipes up next to you, “Do you need any help?” Dahyun is smiling with Seokjin beside her and Taehyung appears relieved. “Yes, please.” She takes his phone as he folds back his selfie stick and she stands off to the side, capturing you and Taehyung smiling with his arm around you. “One. Two. Three. I’ll take another one.” Dahyun changes the angle a bit and Taehyung leans over to pull on your cheek while you feign a glare at him. The second picture is taken while the woman and her husband laugh, endeared. “There we go. You can check them to see if they’re good.” The phone is handed back and by Taehyung’s expression, it seems acceptable. “You two are too cute. When did you get married?” “Oh, I think three years ago? Yeah. Three.” It’s much longer than it actually feels. It seemed like it was a week ago when you first met in class and thought he was annoying. Like yesterday, he was supposed to propose at a fancy restaurant but failed when you found the ring box the night before — how he screamed at you to stop, but it was too late and he ended up going with it. They’ve all become memories that you cherish. “We met back in school and dated a while before getting married.” Dahyun smiles. “Have you decided how many kids you want yet?” You hitch a thumb to Taehyung. “He wants four, but I’m fine with two.” “The bigger the family, the better, right?” he says, looking up from the screen of his phone. “Wait until you have kids, you’ll end up wanting more,” Seokjin chuckles, “That or you’ll want to give them all away, but personally, I could raise a whole football team if she’d let me.” His wife jabs him in the ribs. “Yeah, because you’re not the one who has to give birth to them.” “And that’s why you’re the boss of the house.” He pouts at her while the corners of his mouth tickle up into a smile, and she relents. “Let’s be honest, the real boss of the house is our little troublemaker. I swear he took after all your bad traits.” Seokjin gasps. “Excuse me, Youngjae is my most masterful creation...even if he painted all over our leather seats and popped our car tire with his batman toy.” She shakes her head with a light sigh, but it’s hard to hide her beaming expression. “I should’ve known he would give me trouble when he went past the due date for two weeks.” “T-two weeks?” you sputter. Dahyun nods, finally having the sympathy she was trying to fish out of her husband. “My stomach was as big as a watermelon and I was in labour for fourteen hours before I ended up getting an emergency c-section and he came out a whopping ten pounds.” Your head is swirling as you try to imagine a ten pound baby in this petite woman. It almost seems like a horror story that’s waiting to be picked up by Hollywood. “But honestly, the hardest part wasn’t the whole pregnancy or birthing process. It was afterwards.” Her exhale is long and fatigued. “Suddenly there’s another human being you’re responsible for and you have to take care of them while you’re still in recovery. I remember when Youngjae couldn’t stop crying in the middle of the night. I always had an idea that having kids was a lot of work, but you really don’t have time for yourself once they’re born, and not to mention my bladder was completely done for after the whole thing.” “Alright, alright.” Her husband pulls her close. “I already know you’re a woman warrior. I saw it with my own eyes.” Dahyun smiles but it doesn’t reach her eyes and she turns to him, deadpanning, “No, you didn’t. You passed out half-way.” “I was there in spirit,” Seokjin insists humorously. Dahyun scoffs while Taehyung grins at their back and forth that’s reminiscent of his own dynamic with you. “But were they worth it?” “Oh, a thousand percent,” Dahyun responds without needing a second to consider, expression softening. “Enough that I would want to do it all over again.” She doesn’t get a chance to say much else when Jimin’s voice pierces through the chatter and everyone gathers together with the last stragglers who have finally made it up. “Thank you, everyone, for coming all the way up here. This is Serenity Falls that was actually…” But his voice drowns out. You linger on what Dahyun said, about child rearing and birthing, and there’s nothing that can be done to the uneasy emotion swelling inside of you. The walk back down is silent. Done without a single complaint from you about the hot weather or how your feet ache. Taehyung notices, glancing at you several times. He doesn’t say anything until you’re back at the yurt. “What’s wrong?” You look at him from across the room. “Nothing, why?” “You’ve just been quiet.” “I just….” You inhale and decide to divulge him. “I was just thinking about what Dahyun and Seokjin were saying. Do you think we’re cut out for this, Taehyung?” His head quirks to one side. “Why wouldn’t we be?” “You and I can barely take care of ourselves.” “That’s not true.” “We forget to buy food all the time.” “That makes midnight snack runs fun.” He grins. You exhale an unsteady breath and Taehyung approaches you. He doesn’t mind how sweaty you are and wraps his arms around your waist. “We’ll figure it out. You said it yourself, right? One step at a time.” “But what if it’s too much and you decide you don’t want to do it anymore? Or that...you don’t want to be with me?” He opens his mouth, but you keep going before he can jump in. It’s not just about you being self-conscious or needing reassurance. You’re simply trying to imagine the worst case scenario as realistically as you can. “Like when I’m still bloated like a whale and in a bad mood and the baby’s crying and no one knows what to do.” “I’ll still love you no matter the changes,” Taehyung murmurs earnestly, searching your expression. “Even if you’re bloated like a whale and in a bad mood and the baby’s crying and no one knows what to do. I’ll use google to figure it out and get the baby to calm down and I’ll get you some chocolate and I’ll rub your feet.” You scoff lightly. “You make it sound so easy.” “Maybe because it won’t be as hard as you think. I’m great with kids and we got killer teamwork, you know, plus this baby’ll be the best project we’ve ever done together.” “A project that’s gonna last us eighteen years.” You smile. Taehyung laughs, the sound mellifluous in the room. “Which isn’t that long considering how fast time moves.” You hum and encircle your arms around his neck. Taehyung gets the hint and leans in to seal your lips against his, slotting them together to kiss you the way he knows you like it. It’s slow, comforting, an opportunity to revel in the softness of his lips. Taehyung gives you courage — he always has and when you break apart, smiling against each other, you feel worlds better than before. “I’m gonna start a bubble bath. You can join me if you want.” It’s less of a suggestion and more of a demand, one Taehyung fully recognizes and makes him smile in amusement as you saunter away. Taking advantage of the tub in the bathroom, you lower the stopper of the drain and dump in the soap they offer. The water gets filled three quarters way with a layer of bubbles and you strip. You sigh as you get comfortable in the tub. “Is it warm?” Your husband leans against the doorway, arms crossed and the corner of his mouth curled. “Uh-huh.” You loll your head on the edge of the tub and lift up your foot, watching the way the water cascades off your skin. “Are you not going to get in?” “Maybe later,” Taehyung surprisingly replies. He rarely rejects any chance at jumping your bones when you’re being this forward about it. There’s no hike or lunch to catch that’s preventing him from having fun with you either. But as your husband walks out, you catch him unceremoniously stealing the clothes you have prepared and the stack of towels by the sink. “What are you doing?” “There’s no point in covering yourself up if I’m gonna strip you anyway.” He flashes a mischievous grin and you sigh, relenting in his antics. You simply lay back to enjoy the water, muscles relaxing and your brain that’s constantly in overdrive empties. After ten minutes, your skin begins to wrinkle, so you drain the water and get out. But the moment you stand up, the cool air conditioning slams into you and your body starts to shiver. “Taehyung!” you shout and hear silence. “At least give me a towel!” Fortunately for you, there’s a smaller one on the rack he missed so you swipe at it and wrap your shoulders to protect yourself. But you’re still dripping wet and in need of your clothes, so you stomp out to find your ridiculous partner who’s apparently five years old and— “HA!” Said man you’re searching for bursts out of the closet and you scream, startled half to death, nearly falling to the ground. Taehyung starts to laugh like a maniac. “Are you serious?!” You gawk at him. “How long did you even wait there for?” “Like five minutes ago.” The bastard wolfishly grins. “Worth it though.” You cock a brow at him, sighing. “So that’s why you didn’t join me in the bath?” “No. I didn’t join you, so I could do this.” He yanks the towel where your breasts meet, leaving you nude. Goosebumps rise all over your skin and your nipples harden in the frigid air. You screech, arms trying to cover yourself. “Taehyung, it’s cold!” “I can warm you up,” he says but then runs away when he reads the glare on your face, giggling boyishly. It’s completely childish. If anyone was watching, you’d be mortified, but it’s been a long time since there was any shame in your marriage, so you stomp after him while nude. You hunt the man down while he tries to evade by rounding the coffee table. It’s no longer about grabbing clothes or covering yourself up, it’s time for revenge. Luckily, the yurt isn’t big enough to have a game of tag. You manage to reach him and you steal the opportunity to yank his pants down. Taehyung, mid-laugh, trips on his feet and stumbles on the carpet. You burst out giggles, looking at his ass in the air and he giggles too from the infectious sound bubbling up your throat. “Oh, you’re gonna get it now,” He mutters in a low voice with half-lidded eyes and you scramble away with another shriek. “You started it!” You jump onto the bed and Taehyung kicks off his pants. You don’t ask why he’s skipped out on wearing boxers, but you notice he’s already half-hard and that only makes you laugh louder. He chases after you as you duck and steal his own tactic of rounding the coffee table. But unfortunately for you, Taehyung has always been destined to win with his longer legs. He catches you within two strides and snatches you as you scream. You’re thrown over his shoulder like you’re a sack of potatoes and he smirks. “Caught you.” “Taehyung! People are gonna hear!” You laugh in spite of being the one who’s making most of the noise and he tosses you onto the bed. Usually, you hate to be manhandled, but your husband’s the only exception to the rule. “Let them hear.” He hovers over you and the laughter dies down. Taehyung stares earnestly into your eyes and your breathing becomes shallow. But you don’t like to lose and as his wife of three years, you know his one, true weakness. Your fingers lift to Taehyung’s armpits and he seizes when you start tickling him. You laugh when he does and once he doubles over, there’s an opening to the left, a perfect escape route. You steal the opportunity while you still have it and start to climb off the bed, but he regains his breath and grabs your ankle, tugging you back to him in one swift motion without even needing to try. Taehyung grins. “God, you’re such a brat sometimes.” “Yeah, and I know you like it.” He grabs your wrists before you can make another tickle attack and pins it above your head. You can tell that there’s no more time for jokes or any more playing around, not when you can feel his hard cock against your stomach. “You smell good,” he sighs into your neck, inhaling deeply. “Cherry blossom? Peony?” “Strawberries,” you answer. “You smell like sweat.” “You’re gonna end up like me anyway.” Taehyung smiles and leans in to kiss you. It isn’t shy or chaste. His tongue licks into your mouth and you exhale, a strangled moan muffled against his lips as you melt against him. He finally has you where he wants and you let him take control. The pair of you swap spit for a few minutes until he releases your hands, allowing you to curl your fingers into his shoulders as he caresses your waist. Taehyung eventually breaks away with a playful glint in his eyes. “You wanna try the toys?” You both look at the basket half across the room and he rolls off of you. You get to your feet to inspect it for yourself and discover an array of colourful gadgets, some that you’ve tried before and others that you’re sure needs to have an instruction manual with it. “I’m not putting any of these dildos in me, Tae. I don’t know where they’ve been.” “I know.” He lays with his head propped up by his hand and you eye something at the bottom of the basket. You pull out a leather whip and look at him. “Ooh, a classic pick there, sweetheart.” A whip seems more sanitary considering it doesn’t have to go in anyone’s orifices. “Is it?” You approach with a tiny smile, staring down the innocent man. “Roll over.” “What?” “I’ll whip you.” You grin and he blinks at you. More often than not, you’re the more submissive one in bed, but the idea of having Taehyung crying out and the idea of you cackling at his pain has him immediately rolling face down in intrigue and you stepping up on the bed. He turns his face to the side. “Do you know how to do it?” “How hard can it be?” There’s a pause. “But tell me if it hurts.” “The point is to make it hurt, Y/N.” “Yeah, but I don’t want to hurt you-hurt you.” “I can handle it.” Taehyung smirks and you scoff. Even in this position, he’s trying to maintain his dominance. You grip it tightly and don’t count. Simply, with a flick your wrist, you slam the whip across his backside. It makes a loud cracking sound and you hear Taehyung sharply inhale. His teeth grit and you freeze, watching his expression carefully. “How was it?” “Is my back split open?” he asks, trying to look over his shoulder. “No.” “I think I might have to go to the ER.” He sits up completely, overdramatic in the way he fumbles around and his tone filled with some mischief. “I think there’s internal bleeding. Or my spine is broken. I wouldn’t be surprised.” “It’s fine, Tae.” you laugh. So much for telling you to go for it. But you already had an inkling Taehyung wasn’t one for receiving pain. After all, he’s still your whiny baby who only eats vanilla yogurt. “Not your thing?” “Not my thing.” He takes the whip from your hand and tosses it across the room. “I have a better toy in mind.” You’re about to remind him you’re not gonna put any of those communal toys inside of you, but he instead walks over to his suitcase and starts tearing some clear packaging open with something pink inside. You read the label — it’s a remote control vibrating egg. Your brows furrow. “When did you get that?” “Two days before we left. Amazon prime, babe.” “So that’s what you were looking at when you told me you were doing some online shopping?” “Precisely.” Taehyung grins and you’re not sure if you should be pleasantly surprised or in dismay since the two of you have already made a pact not to buy anything else online. The treadmill bought on an impulse is still taking up half the space of the living room. Before you can think too much, Taehyung gets it open and comes over. He nudges your thighs to open and you lay back, leaning against the headboard. You’re not that wet yet, if at all, but it doesn’t stay that way when his long fingers rub against your clit in circles. With his other hand, he strokes against your slit and then sinks his index finger in knuckle deep. You throw back your head, moaning his name at the intrusion while he remains silent, intently watching your pink cunt squeeze. Taehyung curls his finger and swallows hard. The sloppy sounds of your cunt fill the room and he hums in satisfaction. “Okay. Ready?” “Uh-huh.” The head of the cold egg meets your folds and it slowly enters. While the toy might not be big or long, the girth stretches against your warm walls and you keen. Taehyung makes a low noise, encouraging you to take it. When it’s in, he smiles brilliantly. “Good job, sweetheart. You did it.” “Now what?” “This, of course.” Taehyung dangles the remote in front of you and then like a psycho, he ramps it up to the highest possible setting. Intense vibrations are felt through your body instantaneously and you cry, head knocked back against the headboard as your velvet walls squeeze and tremble. “T-Taehyung!” “Good?” “I-It’s too much!” You’re completely at his mercy and he takes advantage of it, drinking you in with a wolfish smile. You’re unable to muster a glare at him, reduced to a complete mess while your center leaks and drips onto the sheet. Still, you try to reach over to the remote. He dodges when you lunge at him. “Nu-uh.” Luckily, you get a hold of your husband and climb over to him. His arm is extended straight up, laughing as you try to snatch it from him. He waves it inches away to mock you while enjoying the sight of you quivering on top of him. “T-Tae!” “Okay, okay.” He laughs and transfers it into his other hand, about to turn the setting down a notch. But right at the moment you’re about to snag it for yourself, the remote flies out of his hand. It falls through the gap between the wall and the headboard. It clatters to the ground. “Oh shit.” “Taehyung!” “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He rolls off the mattress and looks underneath the bed before abruptly standing. “I’m going to need a long stick or something.” He starts to look around the room, searching for a tool to grab the remote that’s out of reach, and you don’t know if you should suffocate him with a pillow or facepalm yourself hard enough to get knocked out into a coma. You can pull out the egg yourself, but the violent vibrations were beginning to thrum pleasure through you, so as your useless husband goes fishing for the remote, you finish the job. Your fingers play with your clit, rubbing the bud as your slick drips down your thighs and you come hard on the toy. The same moment light flashes beneath your eyelids and your toes curl, Taehyung grabs the remote with the help of a rolled brochure and shuts it off. The both of you are winded for different reasons. “You know, I'd say that was pretty hot if not for how stressful that actually was.” “You’re an idiot.” You tug the toy out of you and bat him over lazily, feeling spent on how hard you came. “Now dump some sperm in me, idiot.” Taehyung has a cheesy grin and climbs over you. Despite the struggles of grabbing the toy’s remote, he’s fully hard from the noises you were making. “I’d tell you to ask more nicely, but I’ll let it go.” He aligns the head of his weeping cock to your swollen cunt and leans his weight into you. He starts to push in and you whine, gripping his forearms. As wet as you are, Taehyung is still well-endowed — less girthy than the toy, but there’s a considerable length to him. When he bottoms out, you can feel him all the way to your throat. He tucks sweaty strands of hair behind your ear and kisses you. “Sorry about earlier.” “’t’s okay. It was fun,” you admit and he smiles, starting to work up a good rhythm. You feel hot in your face with the pressure of his body on top of yours, hardened nipples brushing against his chest. Your cunt pulses and squeezes around his length. It draws Taehyung’s groans into your neck. “F-Fuck. You’re so tight.” It feels good and you know he’s reveling in the pleasure too. His eyes are shut tight, the scrunch made between his brows and it entices you to reach up and kiss him to which he sweetly indulges you. Your tongues twine as you pant against each other and Taehyung starts to lose his pacing. He bends your knee, hitting you at a deeper angle as his strokes become increasingly frantic and quick. You egg him on and he groans once more before he thrusts himself as deep as he can go and cums. Ropes of white paint your walls, the head of his cock against your cervix and filling your cunt and womb up. You can feel some of it dribbling out, seeping past your folds and when Taehyung’s about to withdraw, you quickly grab his forearm. “Wait. Just stay put for a second. I have to keep it in.” He nods and kisses your lips. “Okay.” Taehyung nestles into you, nuzzling into your neck and you hope this is the one.

[Day Three] There were lots of activities and amenities offered and advertised by Jimin during the introduction of the retreat, but you realize you might’ve missed over the most important one of all. “How does that feel?” the massage therapist asks as she works a knot out of your shoulders and smooths your skin with the oil. “Amazing,” you murmur from the corner of your mouth, melted against the table. Couples massages were something you always scoffed at, but holy shit, it’s absolutely paradise. With the breeze blowing through the pitched tent and the glowing humidifier releasing a fresh scent, you’ve never been more relaxed as all the stiffness is worked out of you. You open your eyes to see Taehyung enjoying it as well — though not as much as you are since he’s quite ticklish. Sometimes, he squirms a bit too much and his massage therapist is at a loss of what to do. But when it’s all done, you feel like you’re in a new body. “Oh my god. I think I’m more flexible than before. Look, Tae!” You stretch your leg and he giggles at how happy your mood is. “If I knew you liked it this much, I would’ve signed us up for one at the spy near the gym.” Your eyes are wide, catching the sunlight. “Do you think they’re as good as this place?” Taehyung grins. “Probably.” “We should go when we get back then. Oh, do you wanna check out the library?” “Sure.” You grab his hand, lacing your fingers together and he smiles to himself. It’s a free day without many planned activities, giving you both an opportunity to look around the retreat for yourselves and take it easy. And the pair of you take full advantage of the opportunity. Since morning, you were lazing around the yurt and after breakfast and the massages, you decide to lay in one of the hammocks by the trees while Taehyung naps with you. Said man hasn't seen you this stress free in a while, so he happily indulges you in all your wishes. Even when night falls and you step away from the stage where Hyunjin is performing again to stargaze. It’s an odd activity for you since mosquitoes love to especially swarm around you when given the chance and on numerous occasions, you’ve been a moth landing spot. But tonight, the breeze is soft and gentle, and you don't feel any tickles on your skin that isn’t Taehyung’s hand grazing against yours. The grass is pliant beneath your feet and the fairy lights twinkle far away enough that its luminescence doesn’t obstruct. You knock your heads back to view the horizon, allowing the darkness to engulf you and the stars to emerge. “Remember Bali?” “When you lost your passport?” “When we went stargazing with the tour group,” Taehyung corrects. “It still wasn’t as beautiful as this.” “You think everything in front of you is the most beautiful thing you’ve seen. You said that about the Eiffel and then Tokyo Tower.” He laughs. “Hey, my mind doesn’t change that often. You’re still the most beautiful thing I’ve seen.” You scoff, looking away from the sky towards him with a pout. He always knows how to lay on the sappiness without needing to blink. Your dear husband has always been shameless in that aspect and you adore him for it. “So I’m a thing to you now?” “You know that’s not what I mean.” He wraps his arms around your waist. The both of you stare up at the sky. “Is that the big dipper?” You look at where he’s pointing to the large clusters of stars. “I can’t see it. Maybe that’s scorpio.” “Nah, I don’t think so.” Taehyung tries guessing, “It might be taurus or gemini. Or libra.” “Aren’t you just naming astrological signs now?” “Maybe.” He grins. “I’m a capricorn.” “Yes, I know.” You two of you clearly don’t know anything about constellations or how to find them, but it doesn’t make the moment any less enjoyable. Yet when your necks start to ache, he takes your hand and strolls down the path through the trees. “Taehyung. What if we get lost?” None of you have your phones or any flashlights. There’s only the crescent moon giving off its light. “Don’t worry. I have a great sense of direction.” “You and I both know that’s not true.” “You have a great sense of direction, so we won’t get lost,” he says and you sigh without putting much of an argument up. Not when you knew he was headed to the lake you had peeked at earlier in the afternoon, and now it was shimmering with the moonlight, reflecting the starry horizon in its water. There’s a certain kind of peacefulness, a serenity that you would never get back in the city or even the suburbs. Certainly not without light pollution or the occasional car whizzing past. Here, there is none of those noises, none of those distractions, just you and Taehyung savouring the view⁠— “Hey.” But of course, your mischievous husband has to have ulterior motives for coming all the way here. And you know there are ulterior motives by that glint in his eye and the sly smile he has. “What?” “Wanna take a dip?” Your brows shoot to your hairline. “Are you crazy? It’s probably freezing! What if we get hypothermia and die?” “For the record, you’d make one beautiful angel. But I’ll warm you up before it gets to that point.” Taehyung grins and starts stripping, tugging his shirt right off his head. It’s always been like this — him proposing something out of your norm, you try to voice your concerns, and then you’re the one who’s diving head first into it without hesitation and end up having more fun than he does. “God, it’s so cold!” The moment the water touches your toes, you recoil. But you brace yourself and continue onward with your entire body shivering. It’s your first time skinny dipping ⁠— something normally reserved for rebellious teenagers and most certainly not for late twenty-some year olds. Yet neither of you have qualms, even if you’re shrieking and Taehyung is laughing and following behind you. “It’s freezing, Taehyung!” “Come here.” He pulls you to him so your backside is pressed to his front and you wonder how Taehyung can be so warm all the time. The pair of you get waist deep into it and you turn around to grip him. Your husband smiles and holds onto you, eventually going far enough that the water reaches your shoulders. “See? Isn’t this nice?” You hum, gazing up at the stars and the moon, the sight reflected on the water and how you’re pressed to Taehyung. “Seems like the beginning of a horror movie.” He laughs and your feet try to reach down to find stability, but you realize you can’t touch the ground anymore and your grip on him tightens. “Walk back a bit, Tae.” “Why?” “You know I can’t swim.” His mouth curls. “But I like how you’re holding onto me. I won’t let go,” he adds after a long pause, “if you beg me not to.” Your arms immediately come to loop around his neck and your legs wrap around his waist, latching onto him in a vice grip like a koala does to a branch. “Taehyung! I’m not kidding.” “Oh...oh!” The bastard pretends that he’s gonna let go of you and actually does for a split-second. He laughs at your panicked expression. “I’m kidding! I’m kidding!” You feign a pointed glare that turns out to be more of a pout. “You’re lucky I like you.” “You only like me?” “Yeah and if you keep going, I’m going to demote you from husband to friend.” Taehyung makes a pained, sharp sound. “Can’t let that happen then.” He suddenly hoists you up higher, grip secure on your thighs and smiles brilliantly while you scoff. You savour the view and the warmth of his body heat, but you’re slightly distracted. “Do you think anyone’s gonna steal our clothes, Tae?” You squint at the small pile near the shore. “Who would?” “I don’t know. What if a bear comes from the bushes and takes them? We’ll have to walk back naked.” “I’m pretty sure there aren’t bears here, Y/N. Stop overthinking it.” Taehyung suddenly grabs a hold of your chin and turns your head for you to look only at him. Then, he kisses you in a soft and gentle way before the tip of his tongue meets the seam of your lips. You happily oblige, parting them and allowing him access to your tongue and giving him a taste of you. The man hums in satisfaction as soft smacking noises fill the surroundings. You lean into his firm frame while Taehyung’s large hands slinks from your thigh to the curve of your ass. You feel his thumb probe against your folds. “T-Taehyung.” His hard length is beneath you and you grind down on him, feeling empty. It draws a groan from his throat. After a moment, you get his cock inside of you. The stretch soothes the itch you had, filling your cunt deliciously. But unlike the movies, it’s not enough for you. The water washes away the lubricant, each stroke rough and the glide slower than you’d like. So you beg him and the both of you are dragged up onto the shore again. You turn on all fours. The pebbles uncomfortably dig into your knees, but it’s a distraction that blurs into the background when Taehyung pounds into you. You feel all of him, his body heat against yours, each thrusting movement flicking off the droplets of water from your skin. And when Taehyung turns your head to kiss you while rubbing at your clit, you cum around his cock. He finishes as you beg for it and Taehyung’s sticky fluids leak down your thighs on the trek back.

[Day Four] Taehyung blinks blearily, slowly coming to consciousness. He scratches his bed head and groans at how his muscles ache. But when he turns his head, the other side of the bed is cold and empty. His eyes widen in confusion and he feels more awake than before. He checks the time and realizes he slept in, a total of ten hours, which isn’t a surprise considering how last night’s rendezvous continued and was more intense than usual. What is unusually, however, is that you’re gone. But he soon finds you outside. Bathing in the sun. Laying in a hammock. Napping with a book next to you. Your eyes flutter open as his shadow covers your figure. The corner of his mouth pulls. “Morning.” You sheepishly grin. “Morning.” “What time did you get up?” “Like an hour ago. The breeze was nice so I thought I’d do some reading, but I guess I accidentally fell asleep.” “Looks like you’ve gotten comfortable.” Taehyung’s enormous smile aches his cheeks. You’ve fallen in love with this place more than he has, but he doesn’t mind whatsoever. He loves watching you have fun. The two of you have breakfast, inhaling in the food, and then head to a meditation class on the grass led by Hyunjin. Typically, Taehyung has to convince you to take part in such a session and you’d usually wave it off as a waste of time. But there are no qualms or an ounce of hesitation in your expression when you head over. “Now breathe in, and out, a steady stream of breath. Think about all that you are grateful for. Everything that has made your life amazing, and let that positive energy surround you as the negative energy releases.” But while you’re eager, Taehyung, on the other hand, finds out that meditation is not cut out for him. He’s bored out of his mind from the lack of stimulation. Time feels like it’s dragging on slower, each second a minute and a minute is an hour. Somehow, meditating makes him feel even more exhausted than before and his mind ends up wandering. Taehyung thinks about how he’s really craving some fatty burgers instead of the organic oatmeal and yogurt he had — how hot the weather is — how it’s hard to breathe — how sweat sticks to his skin. “Hold your breath for three seconds and release for three seconds.” He sighs and peels back an eye to see you with your hands pressed together, concentrated in following instructions. The corner of his mouth tickles into a smile. As bored as he is, it’s worth seeing you happy. // The more excited you are about something, the more you run around from place to place and Taehyung’s resorted to looking for you. Luckily, the resort is small, so he finds you in front of the main building, chatting to a certain brunette with a half-moon smile and chubby cheeks. “—heard that doggy actually works for some people, but for me, it doesn’t feel right...like…” “The head of the cock isn’t right up against the cervix?” Jimin hums thoughtfully. “Have you tried angling your leg better? Sometimes you need to bend a bit and he needs to be leaning towards the side rather than just hovering straight on top.” What. Taehyung’s brows lift and he quickly approaches. Your face lights up when you see him. “Oh, hey.” “I was looking for you.” Taehyung throws his arm over your shoulder and subtly tugs you into his chest. He looks at the other man, eyes narrowed in on him which he doesn’t seem to notice. “Sorry, I was just caught up with Jimin.” “What were you talking about?” “What position is best for conception.” You blink innocently like it’s not a big deal you’re exploiting the details about your sex lives to another guy, and while he’s not embarrassed whatsoever, it was a bit too much information being shared for Taehyung’s liking. “Turns out elevating the hips might not help as much as we thought it does.” “Huh.” Taehyung deadpans, “That’s interesting.” “I know, right?” Your expression is bright, oblivious to his turmoil. At the same time, Hyunjin exits from the building in yet another flower crown and flowy skirt. She smiles at the both of you and joins Jimin’s side, planting a sweet kiss on his cheek and holding his hand. “Hope I wasn’t interrupting anything important.” You smile at her. “No, it’s okay.” The woman nods and looks to her partner while her voice drops into a more private tone. “Just wanted to let you know that Taehoon and I are done.” As if to validate her words, a timid yet tall man exits the building and they wave goodbye to one another before he walks off towards the parking lot. Jimin smiles. “Did you have fun?” “Yeah. It was nice.” Both you and Taehyung exchange expressions. He wonders if you’re thinking what he is or if he’s understanding the insinuations correctly. As if they catch the inquisitive looks on your faces, they smile in a relaxed way. There’s no need to explain anything to either of you when you’re strangers, but they’re open enough and Hyunjin says, “Taehoon’s my second partner.” “Second...partner?” “Hyunjin and I are in an open relationship,” Jimin clarifies in a friendly manner. “It’s not really traditional, but it works well for us.” “Oh.” Taehyung and you wordlessly bob your heads. He’s pretty sure they mentioned it during their introduction but it slipped his mind. They must get asked a lot of questions too since Hyunjin answers what he’s thinking, telling the both of you there’s not a lot of jealousy involved since they trust each other wholeheartedly and communicate a lot. And rather than finding it bizarre, you’re left intrigued. Taehyung notices as you walk away. “Do you want an open relationship too?” “You know it would never work for us.” You lean over, hugging his arm. “I’m too possessive for that.” He laughs. “Then what about talking to Jimin about our sex positions?” “He’s a professional.” You shrug. “I thought I could get helpful advice. Why?” “Nothing, it’s just kind of weird.” Jimin doesn’t look like a professional. He looks like just some dude in khaki shorts and a white shirt, obnoxiously bulging biceps, probably has rock hard abs, and he’s in an open relationship and clearly doesn’t mind chatting up you, aka Taehyung’s wife. “Are you jealous?” “What? No.” Taehyung scoffs, suddenly defensive and you give him that look like you know him better than that. “I just don’t think we don’t need to ask for help yet, and at least not about our positions. We’re gonna have a baby one way or another, Y/N. We just have to be patient.” “Tell that to my dying eggs.” You walk off and Taehyung grins. “My sperm’s strong enough that it’ll rescue your dying eggs.” // Evening eventually comes and you try to revel in the surrounding sights, the atmosphere of the entire place and the very cozy yurt you’ve grown to adore. It’s sad knowing that tomorrow you’ll have to depart from the resort. You regret not coming here with a more open mind. That way, you could’ve enjoyed and embraced this place much sooner. “Actually, I’m kind of glad. I’m getting sick of them serving the same food.” You’re shocked at your husband’s apathy. “But it’s antioxidant-rich—” “I just want some fried chicken or a burger.” You scoff. “That’s why the doctor told you to lower your blood sugar and you’re not even over forty yet.” But still, you’re taken aback that he’s not in love with the resort. “Out of everyone, I thought this would’ve been your haven. I was expecting you to beg me to build a cabin here or something to stay.” Taehyung hums, leaning back into the chair. “I’m not saying the resort is bad. As long as I get to spend time with you, I like it. And I like that you like it.” “Psh.” He always knows how to say the right thing, especially when he’s doing it absentmindedly and not trying to get something out of you. You lean over, hand lifting to squeeze his cheeks together and you turn his head to kiss him. Taehyung smiles at the soft and affectionate gesture. But you look at him with half-lidded eyes that mean more. “Wanna ditch?” It’s the final celebration that Jimin and Hyunjin are happily hosting, but you don’t mind leaving for some more quality time with Taehyung, and he happily agrees. The both of you sneak out of the crowd, stumbling back into the yurt, giggly and giddy like you’re still teenagers trying to be stealthy at midnight. Taehyung kisses you silly and soon, your back is hitting the mattress. He almost rips your dress with how hastily he tries to tear it off your head and you’re stuck for a moment until you manage to get it off. But in spite of how childish your antics are or how Taehyung blows raspberries on your tummy, each one of his touches is intimate and loving. He holds your hips down and eats you out until you cum twice. Then you’re flipped onto your stomach with him on top of you — his cock is dug into your pussy, every draw and thrust delicious. Your walls pulse along his length and you moan his name and clutch the sheets with tight fists. You relish in the pressure of his body pressed on top of yours as he pounds into you. It only takes a few minutes before he’s releasing into your womb, cumming hard enough that you feel it too. He rolls off of you, spent, but you gather your energy and hold him down for a second round. You’re a woman on a mission and you’re going to make sure you leave this resort with Kim Taehyung’s baby inside of you.

[Day Five] The final day of the resort has arrived much to your dismay, and you feel sad enough to cry. “Thank you so much for all you’ve done.” “It’s our pleasure.” Hyunjin grins, her arms wrapped around Jimin’s. “We just hope you had a great time at our resort.” “Yes, I really loved it.” “Our doors are always open,” Jimin affirms. “If nothing’s stuck, you can always come back or if you’re ever looking for more siblings for the little one, you can come again too. We’re happy to welcome anyone that’s family back.” You’re moved by their words and much to Taehyung’s dismay, you give a brief embrace to each of them. You also manage to see the newlywed couple, Hoseok and Rose, who are still smiling and somehow look even more in-love than when they arrived. Dahyun and Seokjin, as well, wish you luck on your adventures. “We might be coming back real soon.” The woman sighs, hitching her thumb over her shoulder. “That husband of mine is planning to book another trip next month.” “So soon?” Dahyun nods with a long exhale. “I think he’s hoping I’m not pregnant so we can come here again.” Your laugh spurs on her own and you’re able to resonate with the hopelessness of husbands. Everyone is boarding the same bus, but this is the last opportunity to gather when people are getting dropped off from different places. So you make sure to savour the moment, get your last goodbyes in, and Taehyung pulls out his phone to snap several pictures of you for keepsakes. Then, the two of you board the bus with your luggage and settle in your seats. “You know,” you pipe up and Taehyung turns to you. “Even if we didn’t conceive, it was still fun.” He smiles while taking his hand. “Yeah? I’m glad.” Taehyung laces his fingers with yours and you lean your head on his shoulder as he, too, leans his head on top of yours. The bus pulls out of the lot and onto the road. Jimin and Hyunjin wave with brilliant grins, and together, you and Taehyung watch the little resort become a particle in the distance.

[Epilogue] This is terrible. Unexpected and spontaneous. “I have bad news.” You’re leaning against the door frame of Taehyung’s office and at your tone of voice, your husband looks away from the computer screen with wide eyes. “Are you divorcing me?” “No.” “Did you lose your job?” “No.” His entire body deflates in a sigh of relief and he leans back, hands grasping the armrests of his swivel chair. “Thank god because I just bought those new shake weights that were shown on TV.” “Yea— wait. What?” Taehyung’s bubbling laughter comes from his chest. “What is it?” He doesn’t notice the stick in your hand, so you throw it at him. Luckily, Taehyung’s reflexes are still in good shape and he claps his hands together, catching the stick before it hits his head. But then his brows furrow in confusion. “You’re probably going to need to wash your hands after that. I peed on it.” He doesn’t answer. Your oblivious husband instead takes a long second to inspect the stick and his pupils dilate. He finally realizes what it is and looks carefully. In the meanwhile, you hitch your breath, feeling unsettled. But then the most enormous smile stretches into his cheeks. It almost looks like his smile is about to break his face. “You’re pregnant,” Taehyung murmurs. “I sure am.” He looks at you. And then the stick. Then he looks at you again. Taehyung searches your expression in alarm as your words echo back to him. “Why is this bad news? D-did you change your mind? Do you not want kids?” You shake your head. “No. This is fantastic news. I just wanted an excuse to go to the retreat again.” He laughs and exhales a long breath. Taehyung scoots his chair over using the heels of his feet and comes to you. He throws his arms around your torso in a secure embrace while his ear is pressed gently to the flat plane of your stomach that’ll soon swell in the coming months. “God, you’re going to be the death of me, woman.” Taehyung’s brown eyes are lit with mirth and you ease into his hug as your fingers comb through his dark locks. Finally, you’re going to be parents. After waiting and hoping for so long, it was now on the horizon. There’s a sense of fear in you both, but you’re overwhelmed with euphoria and excitement. “We can always go back for the next kid.” “I haven’t even had this one yet and you’re already thinking of another.” “I can’t help it.” Taehyung grins, looking up at you and you lean down to kiss his smile. You have a feeling this baby’s going to be loved beyond belief.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #taehyung fanfic #taehyung smut #bts smut #taehyung fluff #FINALLY i can use the smut tag again looooool #BTS TAEHYUNG AS A SWEET GUY WHO'S NOT AS SWEET IN THE SHEETS #AND OC AS A GRUMBLING SIMP FOR HER HUSBAND

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allteacher · 3 years

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Eris has been in the Tower for barely three weeks when she gets the message.

It should come as more of a surprise, but Eris has known since she crawled gasping out of the Moon’s tunnels that she would not have peace for long, even in the Tower. Even after she’d been discovered and inspected and questioned, spoken softly to and coddled and ensconced gently in her own private quarters— quarters in the civilian wing, far away from her old rooms.

“All your things are still in storage,” Ikora had told her that first day, watching Eris look around her new bedroom, empty save the large windows looking down on the memorial gardens. The view is of the Firebreak section; Eris had refused anything where she could see the names of the people she’d known, where the City planners had just yesterday taken down the stone inscribed with her own name.

She still hasn’t retrieved any of her things, the ragged cloaks or the blankets or the chipped mugs she’d stolen from the Hunter’s Lounge. She thinks about going into that dark room filled with the markers of her past life, sometimes. Sometimes she thinks she will open the heavy metal door and her old self will be standing there, surrounded by the past. Sometimes this is a dream; more often it is a nightmare.

Every few days, Eris sneaks into the supply closet at the end of the hallway and takes one of the chain locks from its carefully-labeled container. She installs them carefully, tests her weight against the door to see if it gives: fragile charms against some future ruin. She knows anything she is truly afraid of could not be stopped by something so mortal, but the action gives her hands something to do; material action, however useless, in service of her own protection.

(She’d done the same on the Moon, before they’d ventured down into the pit: the six of them, holed up in some small lunar colony outbuilding, she and Vell nailing sheets of spinmetal to the doors to keep out wandering Hive in the night. The chalk of bone dust in her throat as Toland had hung Hive-charms over each threshold, humming to himself.

Sai had looked at him, grin questioning. “Are those going to blow us up?”

Eris knows now they would’ve done much worse.)

She hauls herself to her feet, examines her handiwork. If Ikora saw her, she’d call Eris obsessive. Eris knows she is; she wants something new to obsess over. Wants to think of nothing but Crota, to dream of nothing else until his great luminescent corpse is rotting in his Throne. This is why, when her comm chimes with the one-two tone of a summons, she turns toward it with an eager expectation. Maybe Ikora has convinced the Vanguard to listen to her, finally.

The message is from a channel she’s never seen, not before she entered the Hellmouth or since. There’s no text, just a string of coordinates and, at the bottom, a series of pictographs. They’re not Hive runes, have none of the sinuous incomprehensibility.

Eris, the habit worn into her, has her suspicions. But she speaks of them to no one, has the feeling she’s guessed the importance of the secret she’s been entrusted with.

The message has no date attached, so she waits a few more days before acting. She spends that time in a stupor, drifting around her little room, sometimes venturing to the library or to the secluded back hallways of the Hidden to ask for information. She still keeps to the shadows, because no one in the City or the Tower has grown used to her presence yet. Idly, she considers the idea that she is making her problem worse, only alienating herself further by refusing to come fully into the light, to let herself be seen. In these in-between days, she cannot bring herself to care.

She considers leaving without telling anyone. She does not think she will be gone long, and she does not need permission to leave the City. But she considers what the Vanguard, already suspicious of her, would think, what conclusions they would draw. What Ikora would think if Eris disappeared into the night, like she’d done with Eriana so many years ago.

Finally, she sneaks into Ikora’s office.

Eris wastes no time on formalities once she sees Ikora's figure behind her desk, piled high with reports. "I am leaving the City for the afternoon," she says. It is not a lie, because she is loathe to hide anything but what she must from the one person who has tried to welcome her back into the City, who still sees her as an equal. "I am not going off-world. I should be back before tomorrow." The words feel stiff in her mouth even as she says them, but she is still relearning conversations not conducted in whispers or screams.

Ikora does not beam at her, does not over-indulge her, but Eris can still feel the warmth of her Light radiating outward. “Alright," she says, "Radio if you need any assistance. And let me know if you see anything unusual. I’ve been receiving strange reports, lately.”

Eris hopes that isn’t a warning. She inclines her head, leaves without a word.

She departs immediately, before her paranoia can get the better of her. She flies over the Cosmodrome for half an hour before inputting the coordinates she’d long since memorized— some Hidden practicality had made her delete the message almost as soon as she’d read it. She comes to the location soon enough, a little clearing tucked into some foothills. Still on Earth, which she privately considers a blessing. She does not know if she would have been able to leave it, yet, not when her wounds are still so raw.

Eris parks her little ship in the shadow of a few trees. She feels secure having it a physical presence near her, a concrete mode of retreat. It’s more than she’d ever had in the tunnels.

She picks her way across a stream, climbs to the top of a small hill that rises over the clearing. She sees the figure immediately, cutting a striking figure against the weak afternoon light. Even from here, he hurts her eyes to look at. She grimaces, continues down towards him.

As she grows closer, the figure grows more obvious: Osiris. She’d had her suspicions, driven by what she’d remembered of his writings before his exile, Toland’s ravings. Even the message had a certain Warlock quality to it, a mystery, a challenge. She and Eriana had crafted just such a message with their own hands once, join us in our quest…

Osiris looks as she remembers him, though she’d only ever seen him from a distance. Eriana had disliked him, had hated his presence as Warlock Vanguard. Despised his position because of the power it gave him over the Praxic Fire, who stood in clear opposition to everything he'd gradually become.

(“I don’t see why he’s so desperate to understand them. I’m tired of trying to simply understand,” Eriana had groaned once, servos whirring, bent over some ancient tome. “I do not need to know the Hive to raze them to ashes. I only need to know what they have taken from us.”)

Forgive me, Eris thinks. She will not get her vengeance without fully comprehending everything the Hive are, without learning the weft and weave of their existence so that she can unravel it.

She blinks and she is standing before him. “Osiris,” she says. Maybe it is her memories of Eriana but she feels like a newly-Risen, again, standing before him. He is a figure cut neatly from her past and transplanted into the present, unchanging, looking down at her.

“Eris Morn,” he says, and Eris does not startle but she is, for some reason, surprised that he knows just who she is. She knows that it is her own tortuous journey that has made him seek her out, that it is her pain that has made her valuable. Some part of her rails against it, even as she is desperate to turn her nightmares into something usable, to prove to herself that their deaths were not meaningless, that they have done something other than feed the Hive’s ever-eager desire for suffering.

Osiris is looking at her strangely. Eris tries to stare back, but her eyes skitter sideways off of him, the afterimage of his silhouette burning in her eyes. She must make another face, because Osiris’ Ghost slides close to him, spinning intently, and the aura of his Light fades to a shimmer over his skin.

“I know you have information regarding the Hive,” he tells her. “The City ignores your warnings.”

“As they ignored yours.” It is not meant as a challenge, but everything she says sounds bitter, now.

Most of his face is covered, but the tilt of his head changes. “Yes. But we both know what is coming. The question is how to stop it.”

Eris has never been good at these Warlock-games, at talking in circles, hinting closer and closer to what lies plain before them both. “I think I know how to kill Crota,” she says, because she needs to get to the heart of the thing that has been eating her alive. She needs to tell someone who will understand.

And she thinks Osiris will understand, because he has not been through the Hellmouth but he does understand what it is like to exist utterly alone with the enemy, to be shaped by your experience of something completely alien. To be so utterly changed that everyone around you can only think you mad.

“Tell me, then,” he says, and so she does.

#destiny the game #eris morn #osiris #my fic #sometimes you have to get a fic out of your brain in order to get to the actual fic you want to write #aka 'this is the prequel to that eris&osiris fic i was talking about last month'#(they'll actually interact in that one i promise)

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mandoalorian · 4 years

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Borrowed Time [Din Djarin x F!Reader]

ੈ♡˳‧₊*: • Chapter 2: The Way ✩࿐ ˚.✧

Summary: You are the princess of Mandalore, held hostage on your own planet by Moff Gideon and his army of Imperial troopers. Left with no choice, you send out a distress signal; a plea for protection— and who comes? None other than Din Djarin, a foundling of The Death Watch. He, by creed, is your sworn enemy. And where you have asked for his protection, he has been told by his mentor that he must marry you and gain the ability to restore Mandalore to its former glory.

Word Count: 2500>

Warnings: Domestic!Din comes with his own warning.

Series Masterlist **reblogs appreciated!

Din pulled up the throttle and exited hyperspace, thankful that he was now in the perimeter of the hot and arid world of Mandalore. He'd never been to Mandalore before, only heard talks and folklore from the creed who raised him. He had thought that, since the war, Mandalore had become inhospitable. He'd thought a lot of things— but now, as it turned out, not everything was as it seemed.

When the Imperials took over Mandalore, it was said that they slaughtered the monarchy, ruthlessly, and showed no remorse. Whilst no body of yours was ever discovered, the absence in communication from you, the princess, was enough to assume that you had passed away alongside the other Mandalorians. Kriff— even a memorial had been held for you.

Din didn't know how to feel… he was being sent out to protect and marry a princess. Him, out of all people. Din sighed, leaning into the plushness of his leather pilot chair. "I don't understand kid," he hummed, shaking his head as his ship glided through the stars. He watched as he neared your planet, anxiety nesting in his tummy. "Why couldn't she assign Paz to marry her? Or one of the other Mandalorians."

Grogu, Din Djarin's little green bean of a son, garbled something incoherent, blinking his big black eyes innocently. "Hey! Speak for yourself!" Din chastised, wiggling his finger. Grogu giggled and Din rolled his eyes under his beskar helmet. He had no idea how this would possibly go, but as long as he had Grogu by his side, he knew he'd be okay.

As he approached Mandalore, he set the ship for landing. He apprehended some Imp infiltrating the comms system, requesting Din to state his business; although strangely, nothing of that nature occurred. He wasn't going to argue over it. It just meant he'd spent the last four hours making up excuses as to why he was going to Mandalore for no good reason.

"I could say we're going to Mandalore for…. a farmer's market. Do you think they have a farmer's market?" Din quizzed. Grogu spluttered in disagreement. "What about… sourberry picking?" Din shrugged helplessly and Grogu made another sound of dismay. "Well I don't see you having any bright ideas!"

The child reached over to a lever on the ship and groaned wantonly, his little claws flexing as he yearned to grab the ball his father would always let him play with. Din sighed in defeat, unable to resist his son, and unscrewed the silver ball from the lever. Grogu squealed excitedly and immediately used his special powers to lift the ball in the air. He watched it float around the cockpit with a curious glint in his eyes and Din let out another deep exhale.

"No doing the magic hand thing on Mandalore either, especially not in front of the princess. You heard what the Armorer said about you guys… the Jedi. If there was a war between the Jedi and the Mandalorians then the chances are she's not going to take a liking to you lifting up rocks at your own free will. Just please be on your best behaviour. Please?" Din asked. Grogu curled his large ears in understanding and Din smiled. "Thank you. Now, I'm going to make some bone broth before we land. Want some?"

Grogu grinned happily in affirmation, his two little teeth pointing over his lips and the corners of his round eyes crinkling with delight. Bone broth sounded yummy right now.

"Your highness, The Razor Crest has requested permission to land in docking bay 94 of the palace. Do you accept or deny?" An Imperial soldier asked you.

You blinked momentarily. Razor Crest? That ship was pre-Empire. "Yes, that's fine." you nodded casually, looking down at your hands until the guard had left your quarters.

You had to play it cool. Nobody knew that you had sent out a distress call and nobody could know— it had to remain a secret, because if an Imp found out, they'd have no choice but to tell Moff Gideon. And if Moff Gideon found out that you were communicating with surviving Mandalorians, he'd have you done for treason. You may have been the princess, but he was still technically the Manda'lor, and not only that, he was a high ranking Imperial officer. You couldn't mess this up.

You pulled yourself out of your bed and slid your feet into your fluffy slippers, grabbing a silk robe and draping it over your body. They were here already. You couldn't believe it. Your protection. You wondered many things; would they be human or another far off species? How many eyes would they have— and what colour? Blue? Green? Brown? Pink? Would they have hair, and if so, is it long or short, curly or straight? So many questions.

Din held Grogu tight in one arm as he left the ship, and let a nervous hand drop his thigh holster just in case he encountered any trouble. He was thankful to be able to dock within the palace walls because it meant he didn't have to walk for miles in order to reach you. The anxiety was beginning to settle in. Mandalore was important to all Mandalorians, and the monarchy was something they respected very much. Din couldn't even think about marrying you and what that meant, even though the beskar wedding rings that the Armorer had forged were already weighing him down... all he could fixate on was how he was even going to talk to you. You were literally royalty. You came from the Kryze bloodline who were some of the greatest Mandalorian leaders. He'd read about you and your people in storybooks. Leaving Nevarro was one thing; because Din had left his home planet many times to do bounties and Guild Work. But this time, he wasn't even sure when he'd return or if he'd return. Mandalore could be his new home. If he were to marry you, this could be his new life, and Din wasn't sure if he was ready for such a commitment.

As he approached the palace, a cold chill hung over his shoulders and Grogu scowled at the onlookers. The Imperials who guarded your home watched as Din walked through the gardens, their own fingers feeling very trigger happy. A Mandalorian on Mandalore? What were the chances? It was said that the Mandalorians had been obliterated; wiped out and scattered amongst the galaxy to fend for themselves. Of course it would be ridiculous to assume that their entire creed had become extinct, but no Imperial would have ever expected to see a Mandalorian, suited up in full beskar armour, back on Mandalore. Especially since the princess had been announced dead by Moff Gideon after the great take-over. Immediately, the Imperial guards knew that something wasn't right. A Mandalorian had no reason to be on Mandalore— not after everything that had happened to their people.

As Din approached the gates, he couldn't help but feel the glares of his enemies grow colder, and their stares burned into his sheathed body. Grogu made a questioning noise and Din shushed him.

"I don't know…" Din mumbled, not wanting to cause too much fuss or bring too much attention to him and his son.

The point was; the princess had accepted the Mandalorian's request to land in the palace docking bay. The princess was apprehending his arrival. She knew about this.

The two troopers who manned the entrance of the palace did open the doors to Din, although begrudgingly. The strange feeling that surrounded the duo was not lost on Din. He wondered if it was in fact a trap. Maybe the plea the Armorer had received was an old holo recording of your voice that the Imperials had utilized to get a Mandalorian sent out. Either the Imperials were expecting Din, or they weren't expecting him at all. But Din had just assumed the princess had at least made it safe for him to come.

The lobby of the palace was enormous. Beautiful marble floor that must have been centuries old. Ornaments and flower arrangements stood erect on every corner and tall, gold pillars held the building together. Din wondered where he'd find you, but his pondering was cut short when he heard your delicate footsteps clicking against the floor. He turned around, his grip on his son tightening in anticipation, but the moment his eyes met yours, his whole body deflated.

There you were; the Princess of Mandalore.

Din couldn't find words. His whole body involuntarily tensed up as his gaze raked your body. It was perfect; you were shaped like a goddess, or perhaps one of the angels from the moon of Iego. Your hair was the most beautiful colour and Din admired the way it shone under the amber candlelight. Your eyes were doe-like and sparkling just like the stars, and your lips were simply the perfect plumpless.

But your heart was struck with fear when you saw the Mandalorian; fully dressed in beskar armour and a helmet. Not a single inch of skin was on sight, and your vision immediately turned red. There was only one Mandalorian tribe who never took off their helmet; and it was the tribe who was responsible for the death of your mother. It couldn't be…

Grogu's sweet little voice interrupted the silence, his garbles echoing throughout the extensively sized yet empty room.

Your lips curled into a smile as you approached the child, extending your arms and taking him out of Din's grip. "Hello friend." you cooed, and the little green bean giggled under your touch.

"He likes you," Din said, his voice modulated from under the helmet. "He doesn't like many people."

You ignored Din's comment, too busy fussing over the child. Grogu laughed and squeaked as you caressed his floppy ears. "Grogu, hm? You're a cutie."

Din furrowed his eyebrows together, perplexed. He wasn't the best at understanding Grogu, but how did you know his name already? Din hadn't told you.

"Oh, you like it?" You asked curiously, taking your earring out of your ear and placing it in Grogu's claw. "It's a ruby."

Wait— you were talking to him. You could understand him. The only person who could fluently communicate with Grogu was Ahsoka Tano, and that was because she was force sensitive. Of course Din could understand menial gestures and phrases, but here you were, the princess of Mandalore, having a full conversation with the little green bean. For a brief second, Din considered if you had any force-like abilities similar to what Grogu and Ahsoka had. But the thought passed fleetingly. There was no way a Mandalorian could have force powers. Not after the war between Mandalore and the Jedi sorcerers.

"His name is Din Djarin… I see." you nodded knowingly at Grogu before glancing up at the Mandalorian.

"Uh- yeah, that's me," Din said awkwardly, taking a step closer to you. "It's an honour to meet you, your highness. I must admit, I wasn't expecting to visit Mandalore tonight. Or ever- really." Din rambled, picking at his mustard coloured gloves.

"Do they still… do they still think I'm dead?" you asked uncertainly. Din nodded and you swallowed. The Imperials had really done a good job of covering up your existence then. You glanced back down at Grogu, and back up at the Mandalorian. "You walked through the palace gardens… dressed like that?" you asked him with a frown.

Din looked down at his armour in bewilderment— your comment suggesting that there was something wrong with what he was wearing. "Uh- yes?"

Your eyes went comically wide and you thrusted the child back into Din's chest. "Are you out of your mind?" you gasped, slapping your hands over your mouth in distress.

Din placed a hand on his hip. "Excuse me?"

"Take off your helmet." you demanded, your eyes stone cold.

"What? No!" Din gasped, taken aback. "Why aren't you wearing your helmet?"

You blinked. "Why would I? I'm not in battle!" you argued, raising your voice slightly. "Take off your helmet, that is an order from your Manda'lor."

"How could you ask me to do such a thing?" Din asked defensively, his fingers curling around his blaster pistol. "Are you really the Manda'lor— or are you an imposter? A true Mandalorian wouldn't ask me to remove my helmet."

No. You weren't the Manda'lor, you didn't have the darksaber anymore. But Din didn't need to know that.

"Are you… are you a Child of the Watch?" you whispered, feeling genuine fear wash over you.

"What?"

"What is your tribe's mantra?" you beckoned further, your eyes desperately trying to search for his through the visor of his helmet.

"Our secrecy is our survival. Our survival is our strength. This is the way." Din informed you.

You gulped and looked away. He was Death Watch. His people were the ones who teamed with Darth Maul and attacked Mandalore. They were the ones who killed your mother, and now, for the very first time, a Death Watch Mandalorian stood right before you.

You had sworn that, on the occasion you met a Child of the Watch, they wouldn't live to see the dawn of a new day. But this man… this man was a father. And killing him would orphan a child, just like you were orphaned as a young girl. You could never do that. You were not a fighter.

"I think you should go." you whispered, hating the way the words left your lips. You sounded weak.

You were struggling to hold it together. You didn't realise how much it would hurt, seeing a Child of the Watch. You didn't realise how it would bring to life a million memories of your beautiful mother.

"What? I just got here."

"I am sorry for bringing you out here, and I'm even more sorry for asking you to remove your helmet. But you need to go." You said more sternly. Din didn't move. "Go!" you shouted, and Grogu flinched slightly.

"No." Din insisted.

The tears were spilling from your eyes now, and there was nothing you could do to stop them. You shuffled backwards until your ankles hit the first step of the grand staircase. You sunk down onto the steps and held your head in your hands, sobbing. You missed your mother so much; it was like every bone in your body ached for her touch. You missed the way she'd comfort you and hold you and whisper the Songs of Eon's Past to lull you to sleep. She was the greatest of leaders— a pacifist who would never hurt a single soul. She renounced all wars, even at the cost of her own life. She wouldn't want you to hurt Din. All these years you told yourself you'd kill the Children of the Watch for vengeance. But how could you now?

Hesitantly, Din placed Grogu on the ground, and padded towards you. He sat down next to you and wrapped a big arm around your body, pulling you into his beskar clad chest and hugging you. It was the first time in over a decade you'd had the pleasure of feeling human touch. You sunk into him and whimpered, letting your tears fall and dampen the black material under his chest plate. Din said nothing, only shushed you and rubbed comforting circles into your back.

He had no idea what caused the onset of your tears, but he knew better than to ask. There was no shame in crying. None at all. All Din knew was that he was not going to leave you. Not now, not ever. He was going to make you his wife.

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#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #baby yoda #grogu #the mandalorian fic

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steve0discusses · 3 years

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Yugioh S5 Ep 20: Pharaoh’s Cool New Trick

Digging my way through quite a pile of commission work (funny how these things only come all at once or not at all), nearing the light at the end of the tunnel, was looking forward to some free time to catch up on my many little side projects when I was asked to take off for a weekend to do some cat-sitting to which I would NEVER say no to a cat, so like...Rip this blog I guess, we only update like once a week nowadays, but what do you do?

That’s right, play Puzzles and Dragons! The only phone game worth paying any attention to! Where they just released Pegasus on their Yugioh Collab and he looks pretty great!

So I’m just gonna take a second for some art appreciation, because the Puzzles and Dragons art team is just A++++ honestly, and yes, I did pull 13 times to get a Pegasus in my monster box, and yes, he is a completely insane team leader that is absolutely broken when paired with Yugi (the numbers are so satisfying) but...look at him. He looks so good!

(also I finally got Joey Wheeler, and so now my gatcha cravings are settled. And, don’t worry, I play this game so much that I was there during Christmas when they offered like a bajillion stones for free so I didn’t actually use real money on this.)

Now PAD also released a Weevil and Rex, and I don’t know why, and neither does the art team because they still look pretty good but in comparison to all the mains, they sure do looks like just some shorty guys in some casuals.

though I gotta admit, I want to learn how the hell this art team does swooshy effects, because man, that would make my art so much better to just have flames violently exploding out of all my art. Why am I not doing that more often? I have the technology.

anyway, I didn’t bother trying to pull them. Maybe I’ll accidentally pull them when they eventually release a Duke Devlin. (also, RIP to the fact that Roland will probably never be in Puzzles and Dragons but like...I can only send them so many polite letters covered in stickers pretending I’m some 10 year old child and writing in my broken Hiragana “Roland in PAD?”. Thems the breaks. (They also might not remember who Roland is.))

Shoutouts to the card that Weevil is holding that is censoring this nipple on the booby spider, PS.

So because this is not actually a Puzzles and Dragons blog, and it’s been ten eons since I regularly updated so I could remember episode to episode...where the hell were we?

That’s right, we’re on an island now. This show’s wonderful obsession with evil islands (and spoiler, this is one of the few Yugioh Islands that doesn’t explode at the end. Mostly because Kaiba isn’t here to do it or this place would be cinder)

(read more island stuff under the cut)

Anyway, after announcing “hey guys! Screw islands!” Yugi immediately collapses and without any warning.

Apparently the armor is a big ol parasite, which is something that Yugi is so used to at this point that he refuses to admit that this is a problem. Just normal Muto stuff, refusing to tell anyone that he has a serious illness going on underneath that giant mass of hair.

(the sailor moon vibes coming off this weird orb energy)

Sort of feels like a call back to S1 when Yugi was clearly possessed and everyone else was like “He acting weird to you?” except it’s S5 and everyone has learned to never trust Yugi when he says he’s fine and they are responding like he is about to die. Which is correct.

Outside of the cave falls this scroll that is...glowing, I guess. So they open it up and get a bunch of hieroglyphs that give them the “riddle of light” and like youknow...it’s riddle stuff.

They’re doing this riddle for “wings.” And it’s like...everyone’s monster here has a set of wings or an ability to fly. Every single monster except for I dunno, flaming swordsman? Hell, Yugi himself had two sets of wings when he fused with Dark Magician (which was weird, and I still don’t like to think about what technically was going on there.) But we have to go and get ourselves even more wings.

Weirdly, Joey turns to Tea and does something that in any other show would be completely normal. He was like “you want to stay here with Yugi, don’t you?” and it was the first time Joey has ever actually addressed the fact that Tea and Yugi are close. Uncharted territory. I was amazed at the amount of casual shipping that is happening here. It’s almost like a normal ass relationship.

So the boys decide to go off, and be boys and tackle this themselves. And they shouldn’t have, because Tea is smart for this group, and also has the only healing spell.

Like if you’re playing D+D you wouldn’t typically leave your only healer behind. Just saying.

Also like...Grandpa Muto went with them? I guess he’d have to since he’s the translator but also...kind of weird to leave your grandson dying in a cave, but maybe that’s just the Muto lifestyle.

Do not be fooled by my caps, no one has addressed the Bakura in the puzzle for 3 seasons. I’m starting to think this show will never address the Bakura in the puzzle. Which honestly, that would be hilarious if they made a big deal out of that plot point and then couldn’t use it in the end.

And speaking of plot points that kind of come out of nowhere and don’t make full sense with the continuity of the show--Joey has regressed back to the 4th grade.

Hey show? What?

So like if you love Joey, this is not the arc for you, because this arc he is reduced to a Himbo and nothing else. Straight up didn’t know what an echo is, but is very strong and pretty, I guess.

This inevitably happens with any TV show becuase different people make different parts, and I’ve brought up before that sometimes it feels like some teams only have loose post-it notes of what any character should be like at any given point (ESPECIALLY with Seto Kaiba’s timeline) but like...

...Personally I’m mot so fond of this interpretation of Joey, kind of ignores Joey’s best traits, and makes Tristan look way too smart in comparison (and like I always pinned Tristan to be the Himbo of the group, but maybe it’s because they give Tristan so little else to do?)

And like don’t get me wrong, Joey’s a dumbass a lot of the time and needs to get corrected by his pals...but...to the point he doesn’t know what an echo is? He’s a dumbass in a High School student sort of way, youknow?

Anyway, they get down to this big ravine, and they have to destroy this stone while the light passes over it. Kind of feels like a Breath of the Wild shrine quest, actually. In fact, I think Breath of the Wild recycled the shadow/sunlight pathing quest like 4 or 5 times. (I love Breath of the Wild to death but boy did they run out of ideas at the end there.)

They have to fight a glass monster and it’s kind of like...do you know the game Balls 3D? probably not, but it looked like a bunch of random shapes stuck together like a 90′s animation. They basically went to war with shapes.

Pure Himbo energy, has several pokemon, but punches for his pokemon instead of using them. A power move if I ever saw one.

Youknow that would make pokemon a lot more interesting if you could like throw out your pikachu, and then choose to just physically run up to your opponents Eevee and sock it in the jaw. Raise of hands--I know you all would love a version of pokemon like that. Let Ash Ketchum punch a Ratata.

Bro has informed me that Ash does do something like this in the anime. But I’m not talking about the anime, I’m talking about the video game. Give me the option to physically combat my rival. This is what I want, Pokemon.

They discover a way to break the monolith, and the show thinks we’re like actually 7 years old (because the show is Y7, although I forget because it deals with so many dark themes) so the show is going to hold on to this puzzle for a while...just to fill time. And it’s fine because we gotta switch over to Pharaoh anyway.

Yami has this dream again. He attempts to fuse with Dark magician to overcome the dream, but alas, he is still not strong enough.

Yugi wakes up in this murky cave while Tea is out washing out like...some rag? (he’s also still got a rag, so I guess multiple rags were required for how sweaty Yugi is.)

Yugi says “I feel like I’m a new man!” a lot in this episode, and every time he calls himself a man like he’s some sort of adult it’s very funny to me.

And then this plot lore dropped.

I mean I guess inevitably it had to happen...

But man, end of an era. It was freakin hilarious while it lasted: that Pharaoh refused to read ancient Egyptian because it’s like 2002 and he is a High Schooler living in Japan and he actually doesn’t WANT to resolve the mystery of the puzzle. Maybe the people who made this arc don’t know about how in S2 and S3, the fact Pharaoh couldn’t read Marik’s back tatt was like...a really big issue. He couldn’t read the God card, he couldn’t even read that massive tablet that read “HEY PHARAOH THIS IS LITERALLY YOU”. KAIBA had to tell him how to read the God card for him. Freakin Seto “Magic is a lie” Kaiba had to tell him how to use the God Card because Pharaoh couldn’t read it.

But like...Pharaoh finally gave in at some point after the world was devoured by the Leviathan, and before Kaiba finished building Kaibaland (which was already built in S1 but wtv)

The timelines on this show have always been a mishmash...but this one is just like...

...show are you trying to convince me that at any point in this show after season Zero, Pharaoh had any idea what he was doing? Did he sap that brain energy straight out of Joey Wheeler so he could do this?

Wow.

(secretly hoping he forgets how to read Egyptian after this arc is over and the show goes back to the other development team)

Pharaohs reasoning is that, if this is the riddle of the light.....

....then where is the riddle of darkness????????????

and when Tea was like “Pharaoh that is not even remotely logic. Omg it’s so bright outside, lets go back to gross cave.” and Pharaoh was like “Tea! You got it!” and she was like “What the hell are you talking about?”

Not gonna lie, I saw the Orichalcos green, and I got concerned.

Anyway, Yugi gets very frustrated and was like “ugh, lets go save em. They’re gonna die (again.)” and marches down there as if he didn’t pass out an hour ago.

And he fuses with Dark Magician again while everyone else (including his grandpa) was like “Yugi are you freakin kidding me? The suit freakin kills you omg! Tea you had one freakin job!”

And then we get the plot twist that...I mean it makes sense but it was choreographed in a confusing way.

And out of no where this guy shows up again:

So this mysterious man shows up and says “If you don’t succeed you have to live here forever” which...nice...that would probably save the world a lot of problems if Yami got locked away and took his OP puzzle with him. And then this man also says “if you do succeed you become VERY POWERFUL” and Yami was like. “...”

This whole episode had a theme to it, where Tristan and Joey were trying to prove that they could do things on their own and without Yugi’s help. And honestly...felt a little bit misplaced. Yami’s the same guy who murdered Yugi last season with the Orichalcos so like...

...I mean he is probably more reliable than Tristan who once died and turned into a robot monkey for 10ish episodes.

and then they flew into a glowing door.

Folks, this was wild to look at.

This is wild.

And at this point I closed Photoshop and thought I was done. But then I looked at my timeline on the video and was like...wait...there’s more?

and I’m really glad I kept watching because it went back to Alex, who...is apparently just still at those steps in this haunted ass Pyramid.

Now we’re watching Yugioh.

I forgot for a second when they turned Joey into a Himbo and made Pharaoh literate, but we’re back. I mean...

...look at the liner art on this adult man.

So...I posit the question...has Alex spent the last 2-3 episodes doing nothing but applying eyeliner to his face in the dark? Because he absolutely has. And honestly, the vibe of being in a spooky haunted pyramid with barely any light, just applying eyeliner down the edge of your face...that’s a Yugioh vibe, if I ever saw one.

This arc is wild. Anyway, next episode we do even more fetch quests and riddles? Just going to guess now that we probably will.

(and for those new here, this is a link so you can read them from the top. Which, since we’re in S5, means you got like...hours of Yugioh content to read through. Enjoy the rewards of my weird hobby.)

https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/yugioh/chrono

#Yugioh #Yu-Gi-Oh #yami yugi #S5 #Ep20 #It's actually Ep 20 now I was wrong last time #Yugi muto #Grandpa Muto #Alexander the Great #Joey Wheeler #Tristan Taylor #Tea Gardner #TeaxYugi #never thought I would ever use that tag #in this show where they are canonically dating but sometimes it happens #Puzzles and Dragons #Because yes I had to talk about it. This collab is great

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cosmicbrowniefan · 2 years

Note

( just want to preface this by saying that this concept is so cute , thank you for taking the time to cater to everyone's individuality by making the matches so specific ! you rock ! )

she/her female; 5'6 ; long blonde curly hair & green eyes ( or 'orbs' as a03 would demand . . my attempt at a joke has now sent shivers down my spine ) with funky coloured eyelashes *many thanks to mascara*, naturally dark brown but sometimes purple depending on my persuasion. fairly tanned skin with a small number of freckles here and there ; bisexual , lover of all - gender is no concern.

personality: who even knows these days . . thus , my first instinct is to scribble indecisive down. extroverted until i get super burned out , but otherwise fairly laid back. watching the world go by is a speciality of mine , it's cool to just watch people do their thing. beleiver in fate & destiny and all that jazz , maybe a little overly into tarot despite my lack of knowledge. i like to yarn about a lot of topics , usually in a conversational way instead of lecturing someone ( i hope this is the case ) but i'm ultimately a lover of language in general , stories from far and wide. loving someone from afar is a speciality , perhaps with a side peppering of commitment issues.

hobbies: music music music , whether that be listening , observing , reading , discovering . . whatever. picking up books new & old , cultivating a sense of art out of pretty things , comprehending astrology to the best of my ability , learning the greek language , taking a deep dive into character based analysis' , journalling ( when i remember ) , al pacino's filmography , spending time with my dog , rock history & actual physical rocks . . gemstone style . . if that counts as a hobby. ooh also , alien stuff ? i'm always eager to hear about ufo / space concepts , tell me everything !

likes: lava lamps *watching the goop goop * , hats of all shapes and sizes , making hyper-specific playlists for moods that come around once in a blue moon , louis theroux weird weekends , painted nails , the concept of urban exploring ( respectfully ) , green grapes & green apples , night owls as a fully fledged one myself , travelling for the sake of travelling ie. drives with no destination in my mind , the sound of rain , slow talk-y rambles and finally , a perfectly timed and co-ordinated 'your mum' joke

dislikes: my own aforementioned talk-y rambles when they go astray , confrontation , the complete dark , those with a high level of entitlement , headaches that just won't seem to be shaken , sharp noises , lack of general manners ( or those lacking in kindness ), any form of arithmetic , rough surfaces , for the most part : attempts to group people rather than viewing individuals in a case by case basis , reading the rules of any game.

anything extra: i have adhd ? no surprises there , so a level of compassion towards that would be nice from my hypothetical partner. on another entirely seperate note , i have no tattoos but think they're pretty groovy.

i ship you with...

jonathan byers!

how you met: through eddie!! eddie and you are kind of the twins of chaos. you’ve been friends for YEARS and everyone always kind of expected you two to get together, but just like robin and steve, you’re platonic with a capital p. no matter how much you love eddie, he’s just not your type. anyway, the sexually ambiguous six (the fruity four plus jonathan and argyle, that’s just my name for them) were hanging out one day and eddie realized he left his wallet at your house. you brought it over to the byers house to drop it off for him and jonathan was the one who answered the door. it was very much a cliche, ADORABLE meeting between you two, where he could barely say a word and was just staring until you spoke and knocked him out of it. wanting to get to know you more, he invited you in to hang out with everyone.

his first impression of you: for lack of a better term, jonathan met you and immediately wanted to study you. everything about you was just fascinating. your mannerisms, your interests, your sense of humor, the way you can talk deeply about any topic, your music taste, your love for culture and history and the world. not to mention, you looked like a priceless work of art yourself. he was just instantly drawn in by you and that interest has not wavered for a SECOND since you met.

how you got together: jonathan had been hyping himself up for a while to ask you out, but he hadn’t yet because he wanted everything to be PERFECT. he just felt like he couldn’t come up with a good enough way to ask you out. one day, the sexually ambiguous six (plus you) were hanging out and you went upstairs to get some water and the other five CORNERED jonathan and asked him all about when you guys were going to finally get together. he turned bright red and explained his dilemma about not thinking anything he said or did would be good enough. eddie immediately cut him off and said that you would love anything he came up with. jonathan shrugged and started rambling about just how perfect and fascinating and adorable you were and about how he thought he might not be good enough or interesting enough for you. what he didn’t realize was that, while he was saying all this, you had come back downstairs and were standing behind him listening to it all. jonathan only realized when he finished talking and looked up to see everyone grinning and staring behind him. he looked back and felt dread just FLOOD his body, and put his head in his hands right away. the other five quickly all made excuses to go upstairs and passed by you, each patting your back on the way. you came into the basement after and tilted jonathan’s head up, smiling at him and said that that was just about the most perfect way he could ask you. surprised, he raised an eyebrow and started to say something, but you cut him off with a kiss <3

what he likes most about you: jonathan thinks that your knowledge of the world is just fascinating. you seem to know a little bit about everything and he LOVES seeing how passionate you get. not to mention that you being knowledgeable and interested in everything gives you a way to connect with basically every person you meet. jonathan loves seeing you meet someone new and then within a matter of minutes you’re having a deep discussion about one of their interests. he especially loves how much you’re able to bond with will and he thinks it’s super sweet and endearing seeing you guys hit it off. you always find a way to make everyone feel loved and valued and it’s one of his favorite things about you. physically, jonathan loves your eyes and the incredibly cool makeup you do.

what you enjoy doing together: every saturday, you guys switch off and plan a surprise date for the other. in the past, you’ve gone bowling, roller skating, thrifting, hiking, berry-picking, to old bookstores, you name it, and you two have done it. these saturdays are always something you look forward to, but your most favorite one was a saturday the day after you two had been out to a party the night before, and you were both incredibly tired. it was jonathan’s turn to pick out a date, and, sensing that you both needed a rest, his date plan was you two staying at his house, watching his lava lamp, listening to music, AND he let you paint his nails, which you had been begging him for forever to let you do. it was the perfect day.

bonus headcanon: as you know, you're best friends with eddie munson, and jonathan gets a little jealous and sad occasionally. BUT you're able to reassure him so it's all okay :) not to mention he gets super cuddly and clingy when he worries so you get extra snuggles out of it <3

#stranger things #stranger things ship game #stranger things ships #reader insert #match maker #stranger things x reader #reader x stranger things #cosmicbrowniefan asks #cosmicbrowniefan ship game #i ship you with #i ship you with stranger things #jonathan byers

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himbodjarin · 4 years

Text

LUNAR

18+ Content: Eventual descriptions of gore and smut. Third person POV. Chapter Word Count: 2203 Pairing: Din Djarin/F!Reader - no usage of “y/n”

The Mandalorian is a driven warrior — traversing the galaxy in search of the ancient Jedi — but everyone has their weaknesses, and he’s no different. The Bounty Hunter possessed three in fact. One he’s discovered—The Child. The remaining two, though, he wasn’t aware of their existence. At least, not until he meets a valorous Sharpshooter underneath a moonless night sky; then he’s plummeting down a dark mission of self-discovery, questioning his morals and his Creed while the moon taunts him, the phases of the satellite corresponding to his personal revelations. However, the Girl has a dark past that may come to inflict hardships on the Mandalorian and the Child; it's up to the Bounty Hunter to decide her fate.

Read on AO3 / Series Masterlist

CHAPTER ONE: ARVALA-7

The Razor Crest is the closest thing to The Mandalorian’s home, there wasn’t a situation the spacecraft hadn’t emerged triumphant albeit attaining minimal scathes of blaster fire. She’s an old vessel commissioned sometime before the Galactic Empire’s formation, the Mandalorian is grateful he’s privileged to possess such a durable warship, it compliments his style perfectly.

Although, as the craft whines at Mando’s persistent thumbing of controls, he was beginning to resent the body of duralloy surrounding him. The walls shake violently against the atmospheric changes and the left engine slows to a stop, crashing against a stray object within the propellers. He fights against the increasing velocity, eager on not crashing into the all-too-familiar dusty planet nearing closer.

He hopes Kuiil is accepting of a visitor.

Mando surveys the gunship before him, a piece of exterior panelling collapses to the ground underneath the resting Crest and the whirs of a slowing engine clash against the whistling wind, and he sighs. It’s not an easy fix, not this time. The Guild is increasing the numbers against him and with it, the blaster fire directed towards him has improved; pilots are becoming gallant, stupid, credit-hungry.

At least he’s a good pilot, a skill he feels pride for possessing.

Even so, the Crest is a bulky hull and his skills can’t avoid the few unfortunate circumstances that come with it. The spacecraft is in bad shape, worst it’s ever been in and he fears even the Ugnaught cannot assist with this, but he can’t waste time - can’t stay in one location for too long. If his short time on Sorgan taught him anything, it’s to not allow himself attachments nor liabilities.

Arvala-7 hasn’t changed — hasn’t improved — since he was last here, collecting the asset for a hefty reward that now encases his body. The asset — The Child, remained in the sleeping berth, undeterred by the convulsions. Mando contemplates not to wake him and visit Kuiil for assistance, but he’s reminded of Peli Motto’s stern words— You can’t just leave a child all alone like that!

Regardless of the fact the planet is a deserted wasteland, he knows she’s right.

Besides, if the Jawa’s were to ransack the Crest again, they might use the Child as a bargaining chip.

Substrate crunches underneath Mando’s weighted boots as he nears the boarding ramp to collect the Child. The tips of his toes reach the incline but he stops, pauses, thinks. There’s a shift in the wind before it settles flatly, dissipating as though it never existed. It’s silent, dead, until it wasn’t. There’s a sharp hiss echoing through the valleys, one he’s heard too many times and he promptly turns to catch a streak of burning red an inch away from his visor and nestling a hole into the battered ship.

Mando scans the bouldered landscape and concurrently keys at his vambrace, activating his thermal vision to assist in his hunt for the perpetrator; thankful for the night sky enhancing the opportunity. He stops short, visor targeting a glimmer of warm orange heat on the rocky peaks. Mando’s hand instinctively hovers over his holstered blaster, but they’re too far, too high for him to manage a decent shot. With the rifle locked in the Crest, he’s practically defenceless albeit for the flash charges and flamethrower in his vambrace.

Resorting to flash charges in this circumstance is futile. There aren’t sufficient charges to obstruct their vision long enough for him to reach their positioning. Of course, the flamethrower is even worse; he’d consider himself lucky if it extended a mere two metres ahead of him. He’s easy pickings — too vulnerable, and it intimidates him.

He’s never felt so insignificant...so...powerless.

Leather toggles at his vambrace and the visor magnifies its vision before his eyes. Mando observes the figure, analyses it, and follows the direction of the barrel’s aim. It’s actively locked onto him, but he doesn’t move, doesn’t show submission before them.

It’s assertive and so stupid.

It’s, in all probability, a Guild member here to lay claim to two rewards—Mando, for his betrayals, and the Child, for high compensations. Although the reward for the Child alone outweighs the Mandalorian’s. They could end him right here and now, steal the Child and be back on Nevarro within a few days; they should for it they don’t, he will put up a fight.

The sharpshooter readjusts their positioning, the barrel of the rifle tilting down an inch and another blast of crimson slashes through the air, wisps of wind trailing behind the high-velocity beam. It kicks up dirt upon its impact between his boots, dust and pebbles flicking into his lower beskar.

They’re not aiming for him at all, Mando realises. It’s possible that they’re a poor marksman, but was it plausible? Their posture is riddled with years of experience and discovered confidence; they’re no amateur. Mando is sure of it.

Which means they’re attempting to threaten him, frighten him enough for him to evacuate the lands. He doesn’t submit that easily. Perhaps they were hiding something — there’s no point in empty threats among land that possesses no treasures — and maybe it was valuable, or, Mando hums in thought, maybe something sinister he shouldn’t involve himself in.

Arvala-7 isn’t a planet of overly aggressive inhabitants, although the last he was here he did wipe out an entire Nikto encampment; there had to be others of their kind parading the planet in search of him.

Even with the assistance of his magnified vision, the figure was blurred and unreadable. Mando couldn’t even see a speck of skin underneath all the body armour and their face was obstructed by hard tan rock formations.

Mando thinks of the tan-pink face of the Ugnaught, the white whiskers lining his jowls, the weathered brown goggle cap, and how he failed to mention an overly territorial sharpshooter inhabiting the lands.

Blast! Kriffing Ugnaught!

Isn’t that something a tourist should be made aware of upon entering unknown terrain?

Mando gazes through his visor and observes the prone figure. If this was any other ordinary blaster fight, he’d have won by now; would’ve simply pulled for his Amban phase-pulse rifle and disintegrated the threat until there was nothing left but their dust kicking in the wind. He would have already been heading to Kuiil’s moisture farm and complained about his lack of notice of the ambush.

It wasn’t any normal fight, though. Mando can sense something from them and he doesn’t like it; not what he senses but why he senses it.

He’s a practical man.

He works with his hands and his mind, and doesn't tap into intuitions unless necessary. Even when he feels a job is too hard, too promising, he embraces it. Green skin and long bat-wing ears flicker in his peripherals—The Child. He’s awoken. At an unfortunate time, no less. He often did that.

Mando rushes to the Child and swoops him in his arms, ignoring the confused coos muffling into his beskar and returning to the Crest before the incoming fire. It doesn’t come, not even after he peers his helm from the duralloy walls. He inspects the valley formations for a tinge of orange heat, a speck of lens flare, but it’s gone.

It’s a good thing —he has to remind himself — but his suspicions are wedging into the deep crevices of his mind and tingling against his brain, provoking sparks of apprehension. It’s only a matter of time before they inevitably return and who’s to say they won’t return with reinforcements, optimistic of removing him from their lands.

The Child is restless in his arms, whiny piercing noises emitting from his little mouth. “Okay, okay,” Mando grumbles, content of the long-gone presence, and sets the Child down. “Don’t go outside.”

He thumbs his vambrace and the weapons unit doors commence their opening with creaky hinges, yet another thing Mando will have to secure at a later date. The Amban rifle feels comforting in his hand, the shiny barrel glimmering in the Crest’s light. It’s secured to his back and the thick strap fastens across his breastplate vertically, reassuringly.

Leathered digits grab at three canisters of rifle ammunition and situate them in their placements surrounding his boot, refilling the empty’s he’d used prior to the pathetic spacecraft malfunctioning.

Mando gives himself a once-over, guaranteeing he contained all the essentials on his possession if the sharpshooter were to return. When he’s pleased with the maintenance of his blasters and positioning of ammunition canisters, he retreats the Crest and closes the hatch. “I told you not to go outside.”

The Child coos blithely and wanders to his guardian with an extended three-tipped claw.

Mando sighs and picks up the little alien child. The beskar helmet twists towards the mountain-top and his eyes narrow underneath the visor, his lips pressed tightly against his teeth in thought.

“Come on, let’s go see Kuiil. Might even have some pestering frogs you can take off his hands.”

And maybe he can answer some urgent questions, The Mandalorian thinks.

The Ugnaught proves to be useful yet again, going so far as to tend to the Child’s hunger needs—and offering unwanted advice in the meantime. The Mandalorian and Kuiil stand ahead of the Blurrg enclosure, his former mount jeering the beskar-clad bounty hunter. “She’s not fond of you.”

“Feelings mutual.” Mando jabs and sighs, realising his vehemence towards a non-sentient beast. The Child is beside him, shoving a cobalt-blue frog through his tight-lipped mouth. Frantic legs kick at the Child’s chin but it only encourages his appetite, green claws pushing the amphibians limbs into his enclosed mouth. Mando cringes beneath the helmet.

“I recognise you’re not here for tea.” Kuiil draws the Mandalorian’s attention back. “Why are you here?”

“The Crest has taken significant damage. I fear I cannot fix it.”

“Get a new spacecraft, a reliable one.”

Mando sighs, “I don’t need a new one.”

“I have spoken.”

The Ugnaught extends an overflowing hand of mushy grub for the blurrgs, the beasts absorb the entirety of his fist in its mouth but pulls away leaving a wet shine of slobber on Kuiil’s hand. The Mandalorian is grateful for the thin wire restraining them to their confines. Although, they were definitely capable of overpowering the loose cables with their brute strength; he’s pleased he will be needing the reptilian assistance no longer.

It’s easier to depend on mechanics, they’re manipulatable and live beasts were not.

“There’s a marksman in those valleys,” Mando explains.

“I am aware.”

So he did know—and didn’t warn him. “Do you know them?”

“They are one of your kind.”

This piques his interest, curiosity apparent in his fixed posture; head tilted and shoulders stiffly raised. “Mandalorian?”

“No. Independent, private.”

Mando sighs and turns away from the Ugnaught, a pair of hands landing on his hips in frustration. Helmet adjusts upwards, reaching high in the night sky, where he browses the vastness of black and speckled white. Space seems so far away without his Crest, so unreachable. Underneath the visor, his eyes collect the clusters of stars. The Mandalorian is a man of many skill sets and abilities; constellation knowledge was not one of them, yet he couldn’t tear his gaze away. He resolves to count the particles, managing to reach sixty-eight before the Child’s coos distract him.

He's resilient, persistent. Optimistic to obtain an answer to the number of stars soaring above him. Eighty-three, eighty-four— The sharpshooter crosses his mind and he scowls. There’s that sensation again, that uneasiness. Intuition, suspicion. Eighty…. Eighty-six?

The thoughts are evaded, not wanting to think about the potential danger he’s putting himself, the Child, and even Kuiil in by remaining on the desert planet—not that he had anywhere to go, but he feels as though the sharpshooter doesn’t care. They just want him gone, and it only makes the Mandalorian that much inquisitive.

Tan lower eyelids drag downwards as though they were crafted with gravity itself. He’s tired, exhausted, but he doesn’t succumb to his body’s pleads of leisure. It can wait until the Crest is soaring through space; then, and only then, with the Child dozing in his hammock he can relax, allow his muscles to recuperate, allow himself a moment's weakness.

Mando sucks in a breath through his helmet’s filter. Dry, warm, and grainy like the desert, but a refreshing change from the recycled oxygen inside the Razor Crest’s vessel.

Arvala-7’s moon is nowhere to be seen, the sky illuminated only by the dotted whites flaked through the sheet of black. It gives the sky an ominous appearance, threatening almost. Mando finds himself disorientated among the stars, a thick lump in his throat. It looked so…

Lifeless.

The Mandalorian forcibly retracts his attention from the sky, but his premonition remains intact and he dabbles with it. Fiddling the edges of a conscious thought and visualising it as a bounty puck, he pictures a bright hologram emerging from it’s centre, displaying a circulating outline of orange waves. It’s a bad idea, a stupid idea, but one he can’t reject, “Their camp. Where is their camp located?”

Kuiil shakes his head, “They’re not hostile, no need to provoke them.”

“I won’t shoot first.”

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iamnightduchess · 4 years

Text

There were originally two Asks for this but the draft got deleted by accident. To the two anons, I am so sorry 🙈 I also spent quite some time on it, so I had to rewrite everything all over again. But the Asks wanted to know what happens after their confession & their lives together afterwards in Hizuru, their courting process, marriage, kids & what Reiner does for a living when Mikasa ascends the imperial throne as the new Empress.

Reiner x Mikasa (ReiKasa) Canonverse AU (18+) Post-Rumbling Headcanon #18 (Pt.2) a.k.a a ficlet

A continuation to this post. Show me some ❤!

‼️Contains: mentions of PTSD‼️

Aftermath of Confession

Jean, who was also there with Annie & Armin, was very happy to see that two of his loved ones are finally embracing each other's feelings. He asks the new couple, "So, what's next?

Reiner looks into Mikasa's eyes and says, "For now, I just want to make out with the new most important woman in my life."

Annie sneakily jabs, "Get a room."

Reiner snarkily replies, "Good idea," causing Mikasa and Kiyomi both to panic before Reiner adds, "It was a joke, ladies."

"Jerk." Annie grins, as she holds her paramour's hand tight in hers. One could also see the look of pride and happiness on Armin's face, upon realizing that his sworn sister is genuinely loved by a good-hearted man, who would be her true anchor & life companion after the horrors she was forced to go through.

Reiner immediately approaches the Azumabito family matriarch and asks for her blessing and advice with the intention to officially court her kin. Kiyomi states that once Mikasa ascends the throne, the rules of Hizuru forbids the empress to marry a commoner but the spouse of a married ruler who ascends the throne will be recognized as the empress or prince consort. Thus, Kiyomi advises for their courting to proceed after the marriage, which will be held in a week.

Reiner and Mikasa, together, also talk to Jean and Armin in making it a triple wedding instead.

As soon as they return to the settlement, Reiner wastes not a second as he also looks for Levi, to get the older man's blessing as his soon-to-be wife's last living kin on her father's side.

Levi shakes his hand, albeit sternly, to which even Jean and Armin would cower in reflex, yet no one can miss the tender look in their former captain's eyes; one of a proud father when he said, "Be true. Be loyal."

Karina, Gabi and the rest of the Braun family are over the moon over the news of their immediate engagement & the family spearheads the wedding preparation together. The men go out to hunt and the women help with the simple but homely decoration as well as cooking preparations. Connie prefers to help the women and part of the reason is he's really interested in getting to know one of them; a single lady who had adopted 4 children whose parents were killed in the Rumbling.

The evening after Reiner had received Levi's blessings, Mikasa asks him out for a stroll around the settlement. Reiner also wants to spend more alone time with her. Teary-eyed, Mikasa confides in Reiner on everything that happened during the moment when she decapitated Eren's head, a truth that she has never told anyone. Not even to Armin. She told him that she placed her lips on Eren's cold dead ones to say her last farewell and that she is haunted by what she has done ever since. She is scared & terrified of what she has done and she feels she is being unfair to Reiner because of how 'broken' she is from within. Mikasa also says that she understands if Reiner wants to call off their wedding because he deserves to be happy with someone who doesn't have immense emotional baggage like she does.

Reiner, wordlessly, only holds her close in return. Mikasa almost flinches but she gradually allows the shackles inside her head go. However, she isn't able to return Reiner's physical affections as yet because of the unbearable guilt she still holds, thinking she is unworthy of Reiner's genuine love.

Reiner also confides that he has his emotional baggages himself; namely the day he tried to shoot himself in the head right before the assault in Liberio. Reiner also shares the reason why he has stopped thinking of dying, in particularly, the moment he realizes he did not want to give up on life so easily was the second he saw Mikasa's helpless face when the alliance decided to kill Eren. He accepts if Mikasa refuses to proceed with their wedding, but he would still follow her to Hizuru and be by her side - even as a friend.

At that moment, they both realize one fundamental truth: all these horrors they had to go through especially together only made them even more compatible with each other. No other man could ever understand and love Mikasa the way she is. No other woman could truly understand and love Reiner the way he is. They were both broken, emotionally weighed down but the strength they each needed was in the other all along.

Reiner and Mikasa are indeed two odd-shaped puzzle pieces who turn out to be a perfect fit after all.

That night, Reiner makes the first pledge to Mikasa way before his wedding vows: He will love her and make her happy for the rest of his life. He will never give up on her. Not even after death.

Wedding

The wedding had been a simple but a merry affair. Falco had been the ring-bearer & Gabi the flower girl.

Kiyomi had a craftsmaker from Hizuru and a blacksmith from Marley to make wedding bands from melted 3DMG blades and titan crystals for the three couples.

Kiyomi had found beautiful western-style white silk dresses in the Azumabito family's garments chest on the main ship. The brides, along with the help from Gabi, Karina and her sister, personalize the dresses according to their preferences.

Mikasa wears an ankle-length princess cut dress with tight long sleeves. She embroidered the hem with forest green trimmings (her new favorite color) and sewn gold laces and ribbons on the wrists and neck to match the color of Reiner's eyes. So as the gold teardrop stone on her silver headpiece. Reiner wore a matching white dress shirt and dark pants with a long beige overcoat, with a silver garnet tie to match the colors of his bride's beautiful eyes.

Annie wore a shin-length bell-shaped dress, with a sky blue drape silk wrap across her shoulders and sky blue hair ribbon to match the color of Armin's eyes. Armin wore a crisp beige coat with a light blue dress shirt and a matching dark blue bow tie.

Pieck, who's already 7 weeks pregnant at that time, wore a long halter bare-back dress, with a flowy dark purple ombre gradient skirt and a violet satin waistband, which matched Jean's bowtie and suit vest. He paired it with a crisp dark brown full suit.

Annie & Pieck were walked down the aisle by their respective fathers. Levi was the one who accompanied Mikasa down the wedding lane to Reiner.

Reiner was just captivated - he had tears in his eyes the moment he saw Mikasa in her wedding dress. He immediately kisses her hand when Levi gave her away.

Reiner & Mikasa's vows brought the guests to tears. Reiner vowed that he will always place Mikasa's life & needs before his and will always be with her through every second of their lives together - side-by-side, not behind her or in front of her. Mikasa vowed that Reiner will always have not only her heart but her whole life, in which their souls are bound for all eternity.

When they shared their first kiss as husband & wife, Mikasa truthfully savored & surrendered her heart to her first true love's kiss with Reiner.

Since Captain Levi was injured, it was Armin who sweetly offered his hand for Mikasa's father-daughter dance, as her sworn brother.

At the reception, Connie, being the best man to all the grooms jokingly said to the three of them, "You boys might have been married first, but I already beat you guys in being a dad," proudly proclaiming while cradling his adopted 3-month old baby girl in his arms.

Wedding Night & Courting

That eve of the wedding, Reiner had been a perfect gentleman and he wants Mikasa to know that they will always be each other's equal. He only asks her to take the lead when it comes to the physical intimacy in their shared life & they will only consummate their wedding when she is ready.

Reiner & Mikasa spent their wedding night just talking & reminiscing about their time as 104th cadets and positive memories of everyone they know until they fell asleep in each other's arms. Reiner wanted Mikasa to remember only the good memories with Eren and that night, Mikasa had a minor night terror but Reiner's embrace helped calm her down as he helped her back to sleep.

The next morning, Reiner & Mikasa spent their time helping the resident cooks in the main kitchen with breakfast. Reiner likes to sneak in quick kisses on Mikasa's forehead in between the kitchen chores & despite not being able to fully initiate physical affections towards Reiner, Mikasa have become more comfortable in accepting Reiner's physical affections without being subconsciously defensive.

They spent the next several days together by doing domestic chores around the settlement in particularly, they discovered that they both share the same enjoyment towards harvesting in the fields. Reiner loves seeing the peaceful expression on Mikasa's face underneath the sun when she's working hard at plotting soil for the vegetable roots. He never stops seeing her as the strongest, most beautiful woman in his life.

They both went on evening walks with Falco & Gabi and stargazing at night. Sometimes they would talk, sometimes they would just sit in silence while holding each other's hands. They also discussed on their near future plans in settling down in Hizuru, bringing Karina with them so they can still take care of her together.

Reiner carries her from the main walkway to their shared unit every single night, much to Armin & Annie's amusement and Mikasa's horror. But by the third night, Mikasa had become more relaxed and she leant on Reiner's sturdy shoulders, accepting his comfort naturally.

Reiner also loves giving Mikasa surprises - whether it's a wild flower, a ripe edible harvest or any interesting things that he found while he was out helping at the fields.

Reiner's honesty, diligence and romantic wooing won Mikasa's heart and the last evening before they left for Hizuru, they finally consummate their marriage. That night, he carried her all the way to bed and they never left until they woke up in the morning. Reiner spent the whole night just worshipping every inch of his wife's body and never took his eyes off hers when they made love for the first time.

Life in Hizuru

As soon as they docked in Hizuru, Reiner & Mikasa, respectively, went into an immediate intensive training to prepare them for the duties & expectations of the imperial throne. Mikasa, to prepare her as an Empress and Reiner, to prepare him as her prince consort, especially him being the first non-Hizurian blood to sit on the imperial throne.

Reiner also voluntarily enlisted with the Hizurian naval forces to learn the new ropes of being a sea military member, as oppossed to land. It wasn't long when the higher-ups took notice of his exceptional skills, natural leadership & battle experience, that he was made an Admiral in training within three months of his enlistment.

Reiner & Mikasa had to spend the first few months apart and that made the newlyweds miss each other even more.

During this temporary separation, Reiner and Mikasa had been writing love letters to each other, everyday without fail. Karina made sure that her daughter-in-law would never feel alone & she always helped Kiyomi in supporting the empress-to-be so it would not be a lonely, isolated period for Mikasa while she's being separated from Reiner.

Reiner & Mikasa were only reunited a week before their enthronement, which was held six months after they arrived in Hizuru. Everyone of their loved ones in Fort Salta's residence had been invited as the royal guests. Despite having challenging pregnancies as former female shifters, Annie and Pieck wouldn't miss the opportunity to support Mikasa & Reiner's historical day as they officially become the new age imperial monarch of the East Sea country. Pieck went into an early labor during the visit. Jean & Pieck's eldest son was born in Hizuru.

Enthronement & the royal Azumabito (Ackerman-Braun) family legacy

Mikasa's royal title is Her Imperial Highness Empress Mikasa of Azumabito.

Reiner's royal title is His Imperial Highness Reiner Braun Consort to Empress Mikasa.

The first night after Mikasa & Reiner's enthronement, they conceived the firstborn heir to the throne - His Imperial Highness Prince Ryuujin Marcel Ackerman-Braun of Azumabito. In the following years, they were also succeeded by twin princesses, Her Imperial Highness Princess Reina Mathilde Ackerman-Braun of Azumabito & Her Imperial Highness Princess Ryoko Minerva Ackerman-Braun of Azumabito and the second crown prince, His Imperial Highness Prince Ren Mathias Ackerman-Braun of Azumabito.

Mikasa will then make history as the first royal empress who had built the greatest legacy & the strongest, peaceful empire in the world. She is the global icon of world peace & female empowerment, with her husband's neverending love & support.

Reiner is known in history as not only as one of the World's heroes & Eldian consort to the Hizurian empress, but he is the first non-Hizurian naval leader who unites three major nations in the world - through his battlefield intelligence & military prowess.

Under Levi Ackerman's watchful tutelage, Reiner & Mikasa's four children (consecutively their descendants that followed after) have become existential symbol of humanity's unity through the four major bloodlines running through their veins : Hizurian, Ackerman, Marleyan & Eldian from their parents. Each child becoming successful scholars who would continue to fight for humanity in their respective chosen fields; Prince Ryuujin in military & global peace efforts, Princess Reina in women's studies, Princess Ryoko in medicine & Prince Ren in industrialism - all fortifying the legacies their parents have inspired them with growing up.

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I truly had fun in working on this. Just imagining such potential future for my two beloved characters never fails to leave an everlasting warmth in my heart. Even if 139 may not promise a future for Reiner & Mikasa, I'd hope this vision would offer a much-needed comfort for my fellow RK shippers ❤🫂 xoxo

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