#certified touch grass moment

[lovinglin]

I DID IT

[jmliebert]

♡HALSIN IN LOVE♡

calling you "love"

with his eyes warm and soft

and smile tender

he makes you feel truly special

his words and gestures demonstrate his affection

despite his big and hardened hands, they are delicate on your skin

often sending shivers of pleasure down your spine

it is needless to say, but he adores touching you, admiring your body, with no shame

making love to you with no shame, just pure love

he seems to worship every inch of you

could kiss you forever, holding you in his arms

he gazes at you with lust, but also endless admiration

which sometimes makes you shy due to his unapologetic stare

you may be shy, but not him, never

he desires to take care of you, to protect you

his happiest moments are those spent in the nature with you

you share stories while lying on the grass together, gazing at the skies, your sides touching

his wisdom, derived from his age, radiates from him

when he talks about his love for you it makes your heart skip a beat, his words are beautiful and sincere

touching, and unique

honest

his open-mindedness, empathy, kindness and vast knowledge impress you greatly

you could listen to him endlessly, talk with him endlessly

be with him endlessly

he makes you feel understood, and important

he's also big on mutual respect

he is not the type to betray your trust or make you feel bad about yourself

will gladly take all that you can give him

certified daddy

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

 you can find more of my works about halsin ♡here♡

[alltheirdamn]

A Bounty for Reward (Mando x f!reader)

CHAPTER 9

Summary: Running isn't always as easy as it sounds. Warnings: unprotected piv sex, praise kink, creampie, cum eating/light cum play, soft!mando, some teasing per usual, a fuck ton of angst you might cry (maybe?) Word Count: 8.4k A/N: I just love angst too much, okay? Anyway... this chapter and the next are *Certified* my favorites

Early the next morning, Mando flew the Crest to the deeper parts of the forest outside the village. It was secluded and quiet and further off-grid than you were hoping for. If you wanted to make a plan to leave, this was taking you several steps back. 

He was being extra sweet as the morning faded into early afternoon, speaking softly and leaving faint touches on you as you passed in the cargo hold. Each touch was another brutal reminder of that tether pulling between you, that inescapable feeling that something was keeping you both intertwined. You wanted to hit your head against the metal walls and get a grip, but he was making it so fucking hard. 

And he was keeping good on his word and not treating you differently. He even agreed to train with you, promising weapons and a longer session once the afternoon sun peaked. Shedding those secrets yesterday felt like a burden lifted from your chest, yet that anger still festered deep inside you, waiting to escape at any moment. If you could fight Mando, you could lessen those bubbling emotions.

Outside in the clearing, Mando kept a tight grip on his blade, leveling it with his body as he beckoned you to make the first move. You crouched low, aiming for his thigh, only for him to deflect it before you could even get within a foot of his body. His free hand grabbed your wrist, locking it in a vice until your blade fell with a light thud in the grass.

“Fuck,” you snapped.

That rage was crawling up your spine, torching your nerves. You picked up your blade and got into a defense position as you waited for Mando to strike. He advanced on you slowly, his steps calm and calculated up until the last moment when his weapon came shooting out to slice at your bicep. You stepped back in time to escape his strike, blocking your face with one arm and returning a strike at his shoulder. His other hand caught your forearm, twisting it until you yelped. Thinking fast, you drove a knee up into his abdomen, the bone hitting his armor belt on impact. Pain erupted through your body, and you staggered back, winded from the fight.

“You alright?” Mando asked, his breath ragged. He clasped a hand on your shoulder as you bent over heaving. 

Giving him no time, you sliced upwards, nicking the fabric between his cowl and chest. It wasn’t forceful enough to hit skin, but enough to surprise him and send him reeling backward. You straightened with a wide grin on your face, flipping your knife in your hand casually. 

“Don’t let your guard down, Mando,” you shrugged.

He tossed the blade from his hand, charging at you full force. You managed to dodge him, sliding to the left and breaking into a full sprint. The thrill of a chase pounded in your chest as you took off into the empty clearing, the tall grass dying beneath your feet. Your blood was pounding in your ears loud enough to drown out his footsteps behind you, and you felt free. Maybe this was your shot; maybe you could outrun him. 

But that thought died quickly as a sharp cable looped around your right leg, sending you down into the earth hard. Thankfully, you had enough time to brace yourself before the strength of the cable dragged you backward toward Mando. Your nails clawed at the soil beneath you as you tried fighting against it, but your strength was no match for the weapon on his belt. 

Mando’s hands were on your shoulders in an instant, flipping you over to reveal your muddied shirt and face. With him looming over you in all his armored glory, your body flushed a deep red, the heat crawling over your chest and neck. He crouched down, unwinding the cable from your calf, massaging the skin under your pant leg slowly. 

“Never run from a bounty hunter,” he warned. “They’ll always catch you.”

They’ll always catch you. 

You tried to cool your expression as the words washed over you, draining all the heat and color from your body. Did he know? Of course, he didn’t; he was just taunting you in the heat of the moment. 

“Well, you made a nice mess of me with that stunt,” you huffed, sitting up to rest on your forearms. 

“Could make even more of a mess of you for running away from me.”

“Is that a threat?” You smirked.

Mando crawled over you, his helmet a breath away from your face. You pressed your body up into his, letting your breasts rub against his chest plate. It smeared mud against the shiny metal, and you laughed softly.

“Looks like you’re just as messy as me.”

“You wanna fight dirty?” Mando challenged.

“Yeah, I do.”

Hooking your leg around his waist, you used all your energy to spin him over and pin him beneath you. Mando’s hands found their familiar place on your hips, his grip holding you firm as you straddled him. With one slow grind of your hips, he exhaled a groan, and you relished in the feeling of his cock growing hard against your ass. 

“I like you underneath me,” you hummed, rolling your hips again.

Mando’s fingers dug into the exposed skin of your waist, your shirt long having ridden up from the fight. You placed your hands on his shoulder pauldrons as you ground against the fabric of his suit, the friction shooting waves of pleasure through your core. You could push the doubts aside if you pacified it with a distraction. And he was the perfect distraction.

“Make yourself cum, angel. Let me watch you fall apart.”

“No touching.”

He let his fingers slip away from your waist, setting them behind his helmet as he gazed up at you, silently waiting and watching. You indulged in his request, moving your hips in earnest against the hardened outline of his cock. The drag of your clit against it was intoxicating, and you drew circles until you found the right pattern to shatter you into oblivion. You were all too aware that you were in the wide open space of the forest, completely exposed to any possible threat, but that didn’t stop you from pressing your body down harder onto him. If anything, it fueled the fire inside you even more, your movements growing more desperate and out of control. You scrapped your nails against the metal of his pauldrons as your core clenched one final time. Your release escaped from you with a loud moan, the sound filling the space around you. 

“Look at the mess you made,” he taunted, tilting his visor toward the obvious wet spot on your pants. 

You muttered some sort of jumbled nonsense as you slumped against his chest, too blissed out to care that your cunt had drenched your pants and his. 

“Too bad you can’t taste it,” you tossed back. 

What the fuck? 

Why would you say something like that? It completely went against his Creed to remove his helmet, let alone remove it to taste you. That thought pushed beyond all boundaries, and you weren’t quick enough to swallow those words.

“You have no fucking idea how bad I want to taste you,” he growled, letting a hand coast down your back to deliver a sharp slap against your ass. 

“I can taste for the both of us,” you whispered.

Positioning yourself back up onto his lap, you trailed a hand down your stomach and let your fingers dance under the waistband of your underwear. Swiping a finger through your wet folds, you brought the glistening digit to your lips and eyed him as you sucked it clean. Mando’s body went rigid under you, his hands flexing against your backside. 

“Again,” he ordered.

You repeated the motion, letting the taste of your release coat your tongue. Before you could even swallow, Mando’s hand came up to your jaw, holding it firm.

“Let me see.”

Your lips twitched with a smile as you opened your mouth wide. His gloved thumb ran across your bottom lip and slowly pushed into your mouth. You wrapped your lips around his thumb, sucking on the fabric of his glove until you heard him inhale a sharp breath. 

“Tell me I can fuck you.”

You released his thumb with a gentle pop, nodding mindlessly at his request.

“Please,” you begged. 

With that one simple word, Mando had you thrown onto the grass, positioning you on all fours. He made quick work of yanking your pants down your thighs, the light afternoon breeze sending a shiver over your exposed skin. 

“So fucking wet for me, baby,” he groaned.

You preened at his words, humming as he slid a finger inside your aching cunt. Maker, if he didn’t fuck you soon, you’d go mad. You heard the zipper of his suit roll down and the quick brush of the tip of his cock against your entrance. Yes. You needed this. You needed to clear your mind and forget all the ways you’d hurt him when you decided to run. This was the last time, you told yourself. 

Mando pushed into you slowly, letting your body adjust to his cock as it stretched you out. You groaned into the soil beneath you, paying little mind to the mud smearing across your cheek as you braced against the ground. Mando rocked into you slowly at first, finding that perfect rhythm that made you clench around his cock, and then began pistoning into you. You cried out as he drove into you, each thrust hitting you at the core. 

“This pussy is mine,” he growled with each snap of his hips. “No one will ever touch you again.”

You were too dazed to analyze his words or think of anything other than the swelling warmth inside you. He wanted you for himself? Fine, he could have you. He could take anything he wanted, and you’d give it to him willingly. It didn’t change the fact that you’d leave him; your emotions were slowly crawling behind the walls you had built before.

But then, in that moment, you craved the way he fucked you. You focused on the thrum of your heartbeat, the pulse throbbing in your clit, the feel of his cock buried inside you. You cursed into the ground, your teeth gnashing together as that euphoric surge of release splintered across your nerves. You clenched around his cock, your cunt fluttering through the aftershocks of your orgasms, yet he didn’t let up.

“Mando…” You whined.

His hand smoothed over the soft skin of your ass as he crooned out various praises. 

Taking me so good, angel. 

Fucking love how you feel wrapped around my cock. 

Give me more.

You were putty in his hands, and you melted at every syllable dripping through the modulator of his helmet. You wanted the praise. You wanted the release. You wanted this.

“So fucking beautiful,” he exhaled, a hand wrapping around your hair.

He tugged at it gently, your neck craning upwards. The sky above you blurred as another bubbling release coursed through your stomach. You blinked back tears as the tremors tore through you and set your nerves alight. Mando grunted with a final snap of his hips, spilling into you until you felt his release seep out of your aching cunt. 

Releasing his grip on your hair, you felt his fingers work through the tangles knotting at the base of your neck, soothing you as you let your body rest against the ground. He kept his cock sheathed inside of you for several moments, the warmth of his body pressed against yours the perfect salve for the ache inside you. 

Even when it was rough, he made sure to care for you—something no one else had done before.

“Was it too much?” He asked, finally pulling out of you and shimming your pants back onto your hips. You could still feel his cum leaking out of you, and a guilty part of you loved it.

You shook your head as best as possible, your body still fighting off the shakes that traveled up your thighs. Rolling onto your back, you stared at him as he hovered over you. 

“Never too much,” you exhaled.

Mando sat back on his heels and offered a hand to pull you up. He rubbed at your cheek, most likely cleaning the mud from your face and let his hand come down to caress the side of your neck. Maker, each soft touch was another knife to the chest as you tried to remind yourself of what you needed to do.

This was the last time.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, angel.” 

He hauled you to your feet, leading you back to the Crest as you walked on shaky legs. You knew you’d be sore for days, which didn’t make the idea of running sound pleasant. But regardless, you were leaving. You had to. 

After a long time spent alone under the spray of water, you emerged from the refresher with damp hair and a few scatters of bruises. Maybe a year ago, the faint black and blue color on your skin would have repulsed you, but you didn’t mind this time. It was Mando that left them there, and the thought of carrying those marks with you when you left was strangely comforting. 

Mando wasn’t in the hull, and you heard his voice from the cockpit as you climbed the ladder, his voice clipped and short.

“I had to make an unexpected stop in Sorgan,” you heard him say.

“Well, if you’re interested in a few more credits, I’ve got word of a bounty on the planet.” 

It was Greef Karga, and you would know that lively voice anywhere. He was a talker and a good one at that. You only recalled hearing his voice once, and that had been the same day Mando killed a man for you. 

“Send me the coordinates.” 

Silence followed Mando’s words, and you took it as an invitation to enter the cockpit. He turned in his pilot's seat, staring at you slightly longer than usual. 

“Guild business?” You asked.

“It’ll be a quick hunt,” he assured you. “You’re safe here.”

You masked the bubbling anxiety as it accelerated your heart rate. If Mando were leaving for a hunt, it would be the perfect opportunity to run. 

“When do you leave?” You tried not to sound too eager. 

“Tonight.”

“You’ll be back in the morning?”

“Yes.”

“Promise?” You wanted him to think you were worried. And truthfully, you were worried. You were worried you’d get caught and worried he’d get hurt.

“I promise, angel.”

You nodded, swaying in the spot you stood. He motioned for you to join him, and though you felt hesitant, you relented and sat beside him. You didn’t know how to fill the silence this time; you were too focused on the thousands of strategies to leave. You’d need to make sure you had your knife with you and some sense of awareness of where the fuck you were. You were off-grid on Sorgan, but you knew they had a docking port somewhere. If you could get in proximity to the village again, maybe you’d find your way to the port. You’d find a way to tuck a few of Mando’s credits in your pocket and buy yourself transport back to Coruscant. Leaving him would mean you’d have no protection, but that hadn’t stopped you before. You managed to survive a few months on your own, and if anything, being around Mando had taught you how to fight and survive. 

“You’re quiet,” Mando commented. 

His voice startled you out of your daze and drew you back to the present. You stared at the red lights flashing on the nav panel, trying so hard not to look at him for fear of risking everything. 

“You’re the one famously known to be quiet,” you tossed back. 

“Hmm,” was his only response. 

Another beat of silence passed, and he spoke up again. 

“Your parents. What were they like?”

Your eyes tore away from the nav panel and straight to his helmet. 

“What?” You balked. 

“I’m just trying to make small talk, angel.”

“But why do you want to know about them?” You were on the defense now. 

He shrugged, tilting his helmet. 

“Because I want to know about you.”

Maker, had this been any other time, the sentiment may have been welcomed. You’d happily talk about them—even if it hurt—and share those parts of your life with him. But now, the more you shared, the worse it would hurt. He’d leave tonight thinking you’d be here in the morning and everything would be fine, but it wouldn’t be. He would return to an empty ship and one less bounty to worry about. Because at the end of the day, that’s what you were. What you had always been from the start. 

“They were…” A lump formed in your throat as you tried to string some sentences. “They were normal. My father had owned the junkyard his entire life. I grew up learning how to rebuild speeders and droids before I could even walk. My mother tried to stay out of the way. She was always cautious about the trades he made or the business he took in.”

“How did he end up getting mixed up with the Pykes?”

You sighed, rubbing a hand across your forehead, no doubt a headache on the horizon. 

“I honestly don’t know,” you said. “He didn’t tell me much about the deals or the people he made them with. I usually stayed inside when traders came to the yard, but when Kesi came that day, I was finishing working on a new prototype of a speeder. It was the end of the workday, and my mother was waiting for us to clean up to join her for dinner when they came by. My father was never one to back down from conflict… he was stubborn.”

“That’s where you get it,” he huffed lightly. 

You couldn’t help but laugh, too. 

“I am my father’s daughter.”

“What would have been your life if Kesi never came around?”

You hit your head against the headrest, closing your eyes to hide the tears that stung your waterline. Why the fuck was he asking so many questions? Why did he care? 

“I don’t know, Mando.” There was a bite to your words. “I never saw myself leaving Mos Eisley, so maybe the junkyard would have been mine one day.”

“Would you ever want that? Your own junkyard?”

“What I want is freedom,” you snapped, turning to look at him through blurry eyes. “I haven’t thought that far, okay?”

Your anger must have been unexpected because he exhaled heavily, turning his helmet toward the windshield. You weren’t even regretful for lashing out, but seeing him so quiet from it pained you a little. He genuinely asked questions to understand you better, but you couldn’t afford to let him in any closer. What you wanted shouldn’t matter to him; he had a job, and that’s all he should care about. Your freedom and your life shouldn’t have been his concern; he needed to be reminded of that. 

“Why do you care so much?” You asked, softening your voice. 

“I don’t know.”

“You always say that.”

Mando didn’t respond, which frustrated you.

“You shouldn’t care about me,” you hesitated. 

“I know.”

The conversation was going nowhere, and you were spiraling inside, wondering if leaving him would feel as easy as it sounded. You just needed to make it through tonight, and you’d be gone once he left. 

“I’m tired,” you lied. 

“Go rest. I’ll wake you before I go.”

You couldn’t manage a response, only giving him a gentle nod before disappearing into the hull. You gathered your blade and the leather thigh holster, sliding them under the blanket on the bed. Reaching for the leather vest on the ground, you hesitated. Emotions crashed inside you as you picked it up, remembering how he had bought this just for you. He wanted you protected, no matter what. It was a sign of trust you both had built together. Leaving meant breaking that trust, but he knew from the start you would leave, just not like this. 

You stowed the vest away along with everything else and crawled into the bed on sore legs. You needed to reach the village first, then find the route to the docking port. Once you made it there, Mando wouldn’t come searching. At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself. Going to Coruscant was risky; Mando was bound to go looking for you there. You had no other option; until you had a better place in mind, that was where you’d start. 

You fell asleep fast, the night terrors at bay for at least a little while. They crept in slowly at first, then hit you all at once. Memories of hands grabbing you, blades slicing your skin, spice on your lips… all came flooding in. You thrashed in your sleep, your voice crying out for everything to stop.

“Hey,” a voice whispered. “Hey, it’s alright.”

You startled awake, the pull of the voice enough to draw you out of the trance inside your mind. Mando caressed your hand, rubbing circles over your knuckles. You couldn’t hide the flinch in your body as he touched you, and he drew his hand away.

“I’m leaving,” he said. “You’ll be okay?”

“Yeah.” Your voice was hoarse from the screams.

“Wear your comlink in case anything happens. I’ll check in on and off to make sure you’re okay. Just stay on the ship.”

“Okay.”

He slid the comlink onto your wrist, his touch lingering on your skin. You rubbed your eyes, looking at Mando for one last time. You memorized the pieces of armor covering his body and the helmet that stared down at you. For the last time, you wondered what his eyes looked like behind the visor. 

This was it. This was goodbye.

He moved to the weaponry wall, pulling out a blaster and tucking it into his belt. You noted that he left it unlocked for your benefit. He trusted you with it. And that hurt. All the trust you had built would be gone in a mere few hours. 

“Mando,” you called out.

He turned to you.

“Be safe, okay?”

“Always, angel.”

You watched as the night swallowed him, the darkness of the ramp closing the only thing left between you and him. 

This was goodbye. 

** 

He had him cornered. Through the thick weeds that framed the lake, Mando could spot the thermal footprints that the quarry had left behind. After countless hours of hunting, Mando finally had eyes on the bounty. He had sent her a message through the comlink that he’d be gone longer than expected—the bounty was quick, and Mando had a lot of space to cover. He hadn’t heard a response and figured she was asleep again. He hated the thought of her alone with her nightmares; the screams that erupted from her when he woke her were enough to make him reconsider staying. But he needed this hunt. He needed to clear his mind.

Mando pulled his blaster from his weaponry belt, keeping it low and close to his thigh as he trudged through the overgrown forestry around him. The quarry’s eyes peeked through the greenery, connecting with the tinted visor for only a moment.

But it was the only moment Mando needed.

He took his shot… and he missed. Mando never missed a shot. The quarry took off again, furthering the distance between them. His emotions were clouding his skills, and he knew the thought of her forced his hand unsteady. If he had felt strongly for her before, he couldn’t comprehend what this feeling was now. It consumed every thought, every breath, every move of his muscles. 

Sucking in a breath, Mando sent another message to her. This bounty would take up more of his time, which meant he wouldn’t return till later in the day tomorrow. He was miles out from the Crest, and the trek back with a body in tow would only slow him down. 

He realized there still hadn’t been a response from her, only static through the comlink.

“Hey, answer me,” he bit out, the message meeting more static air on the other end. 

“Answer me, dammit!” He wasn’t angry. He was scared. 

He called into his comlink more times than he should have allowed, the time wasted adding up quickly. He was scared, and he still had the quarry to track down. The bounty reward wasn’t high enough— nothing would be high enough— to risk her safety. 

Mando shot into a full sprint towards the Crest, calling into the comlink continuously. The sound of the static drowned out in his ears, the world collapsing around him. He didn’t stop running, letting the miles separating him and the Crest fall away with each stride. 

Finally, in view of the Crest, Mando broke into a sweat as he pushed himself past his fastest pace, knees giving out as his boots hit the ramp as it lowered. Everything looked as it was from the ship's outside: no sign of scavengers or guild members anywhere. Everything inside looked as he remembered: no sign of struggle or fight anywhere. He continued to call her name as he searched the entirety of the ship, coming up empty as he ran back down the ramp to check the perimeter.

“Fuck!” He yelled, pounding his fist into the side of the spacecraft. The metal rattled under the force of the hit, the sound reverberating around him. 

He had told her to stay on the ship. He told her. And she agreed. So, he didn’t understand why she was gone? She would have at least alerted him through the comlink, or maybe she was too fearful to interfere with the hunt. Either way, she shouldn’t be gone. 

The only thing he thought to do was hunt her down. It was the only thing he could do, the fear creeping in as he switched his visor to thermo-tracking. Her footprints lit up in red, vibrantly contrasting the darkened grass. They tracked north, the staggered spacing hinting at the fact she had been running. Still fearful, Mando considered the awful idea that she had been chased down. But there were no other footprints, and he couldn’t recall any ships that had flown overhead.

So, what the fuck did she run from?

Mando considered flying the Crest and tracking her overhead, but he wouldn’t know where her footprints started and ended. He continued on foot, running through the overgrown bushes and grass, slashing away at the greenery with his vibroblade. He had been gone from the ship for nearly half a day and had no clue where she would be. Could she have been taken off the planet? If she had, Mando would have seen or heard some sort of transmission in his comlink. But everything had been quiet those few hours.

 It had been dreadfully silent as he hunted down the quarry. 

Reaching out through the comlink again, Mando called for her, hopeful she still had her comlink on her wrist. With nothing but static feedback, Mando confirmed that it wasn’t functional any longer, the silence growing louder around him. Focusing on the outline of her footprints, he noticed a slowing pace in her running— evidence that she couldn’t have advanced much further. Switching to the body heat scanner, Mando swept the area around him, noticing the forestry open into a vast expanse of land without coverage. There were no traces of her body heat, but phantom footprints still staggered through the clearing.

Switching his scanners off, Mando gazed into the sky, watching dusk fall upon him. He felt beyond helpless knowing he could be losing her— even worse; he couldn’t understand why. If no one had been chasing her, if no one had kidnapped her, then why was she gone? He couldn’t recall any notion as to why she would choose to run. Mando had let his vulnerability win, the strength of his attachment outweighing the risks that threatened his loyalty to the Creed. 

He was ready to give all of himself to her, so why was she gone?

His body was fatigued past over-exertion, from the race to the ship and now tracking her footprints. But he wouldn’t let exhaustion win— he had gone far longer without sleep. Countless bounties had taken days to track down, even so far as a week; staying awake and finding her wasn’t even a question. He would find her.

He’d tear the galaxy apart until he found her. 

Whether he was ready to admit it, she had become his Creed, his loyalty to her bleeding out into the universe surrounding him. 

Nightfall came quickly, the beskar armor illuminated by the waning moons above him. Mando switched his helmet to night vision as he continuously scavenged the ground for lingering pieces of her. Every footprint proved she was still alive; that was all he needed to push forward. The sound of frogs in the distance was the only noise to fill the humid air around him— their sounds were a lullaby to his nightmare. Mando could recall every feature in her face: the scrunch of her nose, the constellations of freckles over her cheeks, that wrinkle between her brows he always wanted to smooth over. Over and over again, he forced himself to reimagine the way she looked, the way she felt in his hands, the sound of her voice when she was soft and under his body. The memory of her was all he had left as he ran across the planet, desperate to turn the memories into rediscovered reality. He wouldn’t— he couldn’t — let her go. 

Mando’s steps faltered as hushed chatter in the east fell upon his ears. He focused in on the noise, making out words that alluded to the terrain and creatures around it— farmers. Stepping out of the shadows, Mando approached them slowly, his posture more friendly than predatory. 

“Hello,” his voice was hoarse from yelling. He cleared it, saying ‘hello’ again. 

The farmers turned to him with startled gasps, their grip on their hunting spears tightening. Mando raised his hands, surrendering his power to gain any knowledge they possessed.

“You are… bounty hunter?” One asked, their accent thick.

Mando nodded, his hands lowering to his sides. He made it a point to keep his hand from his blaster, proving to them that he was no threat.

“I need information,” he began, “I’m looking for someone. Have you seen anyone pass through this area?”

The men looked at each other, their expressions mixed with confusion and fear. The man who had first spoken turned back to Mando, and his chin lifted higher as he regained more confidence.

“We see one girl,” he informed Mando. Mando’s weight shifted, his heart drumming inside his ears.

“Did you speak to her?” He pressed.

The man shook his head, pointing his spear towards the trees.

“She goes north.”

“How long ago was this?” 

“Maybe half day, we not sure,” he shrugged. 

Mando was visibly frustrated, his body language tensing with each exchange of words. He had been tailing her the entire time, yet felt even more behind than he was at the start. If she had more than half a day’s running start, she could be near the north docking port faster than he could get to her. 

The docking port.

The pieces aligned in his head in a dizzying blur; she was leaving him. She had waited for Mando to take the bounty, leave her on the ship, and weaponize his vulnerability against him. He had been so distracted by the bounty even to consider her running, yet it had never even been a passing thought in the first place. How could she leave after he laid out his rawest parts? After she showed him her deepest secrets. He had submitted to her, letting her swim in his soul's depths. And she left him. 

In a daze of tangled thoughts, Mando disregarded all gratitude towards the farmers as he shot into a sprint towards the north, the instincts of a hunter fueling the anger that blinded him. It took her half a day to distance herself; it would take him an hour to catch her. He was no longer searching in fear. He was searching in unbridled rage. 

His pace continued steady as he waded through the terrain heading north. He could hear faint rustling in the bushes, a few scattered animals running away at the sound of his boots. Her footprints in the grass lit a brighter red on his visor, their freshness proving that he was getting closer. He could see far off in the distance that night was quickly turning to morning, the hue of sunrise falling upon the horizon. The first ship off-planet would be coming soon enough, as would her chance to leave. Mando couldn’t allow it. 

He yelled her name into the comlink, voice rugged and labored as he continued running. He didn’t know if her comlink was still on her, but he wouldn’t give up. He would keep trying, and trying, and trying. He couldn’t lose her. 

Not this easily. 

As he trailed her footprints closer, he noticed their imprints in the muddy ground below him, making it easier to track without night vision. The impressions went deeper in the ground, proof that she was using more weight to run and was still en route to the north port. Mando quickened his speed, knowing he was going to catch her.

The path through the trees he had followed began to open up into a large expanse of flower beds and bushes. Several flower beds had been destroyed, their petals and stems crushed— her destructive mark left all over them. Scanning the perimeter of the expanse, his eyes fell upon a shadowed silhouette shaded by a large tree towards the northeast corner of the clearing.

It was her.

Her in all her terrifying beauty; her hair tousled into a bun, her clothes covered in mud and grass stains, her skin dirtied and marked with scratches from thorns and bushes. Though his heart pounded heavy in his chest, and there was a haze of anger over his eyes, relief washed over Mando as his eyes settled on the familiarity of her body. 

It was her.

She didn’t have to turn to know he was there, her body rigid as he continued staring. She had done the same when he had hunted her the first time, her skin paling as if she had seen a ghost. Now, he was a ghost haunting her, seeking remnants of an attachment that had faded away with the moon's glow. Mando stepped forward again, meeting her gaze as she turned to look upon him with an expression he could only understand as guilt. He stalked her slowly, watching her body shiver from the morning breeze that floated over the sunrise as it passed the horizon. Her eyes grew wide, watching as he walked forward slowly, his hand hovering over his blaster. He wouldn’t shoot her; he never would even think of it, but it was an instinctual reaction to inflict fear into her. He wanted her scared. He wanted her to feel every emotion he felt throughout the last day. The fear, the loss, the anger. 

Mando wanted her to understand everything he felt. 

**

The sun’s reflection bouncing off metal was unmistakable even from yards away. You half expected him to let you leave, to wipe his hands clean of a nuisance bounty, and continue through the galaxy. The other half secretly hoped he would hunt you down, tearing apart half the outer rim to find you. It took him less than a day, and you were helplessly alone in the grassy field without a place to hide. Would he have found you faster if he had not been tied up with the bounty? Your plan didn’t have much thought put into it, only the aspect of running. And you must not have done a good enough job if a man covered in beskar steel was walking towards you. 

His stride was slow– intentional– the sway of his weaponry belt shifting into view with every step. You weren’t blind to the fact his hand coasted over the gun holster on his hip, his fingers inches from ending your life. If you were even to tense an arm muscle, your core would be split in two from the plasma beams. Dying at his hand would be more honorable than any other death, and you subconsciously welcomed such a departure from the space you occupied. He had already destroyed you in ways beyond repair, leaving your body and soul torn into pieces. You were a bounty, nothing more. But that couldn’t overturn the emotions that had been festering inside you, nor could it make you forget the way you ached for him physically and emotionally. Giving your body to him wasn’t what hurt; it was knowing your heart was slowly falling into his hands… and you knew he might not treat your heart as kind as he did your body. He was a Mandalorian, a child of the Watch; he knew only of loyalty. Loyalty and love were not the same. 

His pace slowed, stopping only a few yards from you. The familiar black visor was trained on you, and you felt like an animal caught in a trap. You had been here before with him, on Coruscant, but this was different. You hadn’t fucked him yet, slept beside him, or listened to him speak of things he kept hidden. You were a bounty.

 Just. A. Bounty. 

“You left.” There was an apparent inflection in his tone. It cut deep into your chest, tearing you open as you realized how wrong your decision had been. 

“I wanted my freedom,” you spoke through the lump in your throat. 

“And I’m working on giving that to you,”  he countered, shifting his weight from one leg to the other, hand still hovering over the blaster. 

“I can’t keep waiting, Mando. What if you don’t find Kesi? I can survive on my own. I’ve done it before.”

His helmet tilted slightly, and you knew he must have been eyeing you intensely under the protection of the metal. 

“Do you not trust me? I swore I would find him and kill him. Is that not enough?”

“I– yes, fuck, it is enough. I just don’t know.”

“You don’t know.” He repeated your words as if tasting your doubts on his tongue. “You don’t know.”

He stepped forward, looping his thumbs into the waistband of his belt. He sized you up and down, his helmet resting on your face again. 

“How long did you think you could outrun me?” The question was out of genuine curiosity. 

“I thought that if I got far enough, you would forget me and carry on with your life.” Your voice was shaky– uncertain. You lacked confidence even in your persuasion. Why were you trying to persuade yourself that your actions were for his betterment? 

“You thought I would forget you?” There was that inflection again, the spike in octave that shot daggers inside your chest, through your ribcage, and right into your heart. You wished you had armor like his so you wouldn’t feel your heart breaking. 

“I’m only a bounty, aren’t I?” 

“No,” his helmet moved slowly in disagreement. “You aren’t just a bounty, and you’re wrong to think I would forget you.”

Tears stung your waterline as you felt defeat in his words. Just as he had slipped under your skin, into the folds of your brain… you had slipped into his. 

You aren’t just a bounty. 

Even if you were, he would have come here with an intent to kill, and you would have had no chance at negotiations. 

But this was different. You were different. 

“Mando—.”

“I have considered destroying my Creed for you, and you left,” his voice rose in anger. “I have made sacrifices to ensure that my loyalty for Mandalore would never falter, and I’m willing to destroy it all for you. And now you think I’ll just forget you?”

You let out a faint whine, a sob lodging in your chest. How could you say anything to that? The man who was rough around the edges, with a heart you thought to be too cold ever to feel… was wholly undone before you. 

“You left me and took every piece of me with you.”

His helmet bowed down, the visor looking towards the ground. There was pain inside him far beyond the reach of your betrayal. 

“I would never ask you to go against your Creed for me, you know that. I’m not worth it,” you whispered. “I understand the severity of your lifestyle, and I wouldn’t let you do that. You didn’t break your Creed for Omera, and you definitely shouldn’t do it for me.”

“I know you would never ask,” he sighed. “That’s what hurts more. I have given pieces of myself to you that I can’t have back. I’ve let myself become too attached…and now I don’t know how to let you go.”

“I’m not worth it,” you repeated. The tears spilled down your cheeks as you watched Mando’s head raise to meet yours. 

“You are the only person worthy of knowing me.” He pulled your hand to the dewy beskar on his chest, “I am yours.”

The tears coasted down your cheeks, traces of guilt covering your face as you watched him step forward again. Your back was flush against the trunk of a sapling tree, leaving no room to escape the trap he put you in. Your mouth opened, yet silence fell off your tongue. 

“Tell me you want to leave.” 

Tell me to stop. 

He had begged you in a similar way before to resist him and his advances. His loyalty to the Creed prevented him from getting close; his armor was more than just a shield for his body. Every emotion, every fracture of his mind, was closed off to you and the rest of the galaxy. You had spent countless days and weeks trying to break through the armor, to even make a fraction of a dent into the metal that guarded him. But now… now you succeeded– the man behind the armor coming completely undone in your presence. It tore your heart apart knowing your ignorance had led to this. 

“I can’t—.”

“Say it!” His voice rose higher. “Tell me you don’t want to stay!”

“Mando, you knew I wanted freedom.” You were losing the battle in front of you, giving into the temptation that blurred the lines between love and desperation.

He swarmed your body, invading the only space that had remained between both of your bodies. He pulled your arms into a vice between his hands, his grip bruising your skin. You winced, eyes pleading for some sort of humanity behind his mask. You dug your heels into the damp soil around you, grounding yourself against the pull of his hold. 

“I’m going to give you that, so why can’t you wait?” His voice was sharp, biting at the air between you. “Why now?” 

“I– I don’t know!” You were exasperated, finding no words to describe the jumbled mess of thoughts fogging your mind.

 “I’m sorry,” was all you came up with. 

“Tell me you want to leave,” he repeated his plea, his breathing labored. 

You hesitated a moment, sucking in a chestful of air. Freedom was at your fingertips, but was it worth all that could be lost? 

“No.”

When he didn’t react to your words, you repeated it. “No.”

His grip fell from your arms, his boots crunching on fallen leaves as he stepped back. His body language showed all signs of being stunned, his stagger backward more reminiscent of someone being shot rather than being told ‘no.’ 

You managed to push yourself off the tree, feeling stray wooden shards stuck to the fabric of your shirt— some even burrowing into your skin. You paid no mind to the stinging sensation prickling along your body.

“I don’t want to leave,” your voice barely above a whisper. “I was selfish to think I could go without hurting you.” His helmet stayed trained on you, unmoving. “Or hurting myself,” you added. 

“Mando,” you continued, “I want— wanted freedom. I have been on the run for months. Ever since my parents died, I have been alone. This is different for me; you’re different. I’m scared of feeling attached because it’s not lost on me that you have no obligation to attachment. Attachment isn’t part of your Creed, and I can’t do that to myself. I can’t do that to you.” you repressed a cry, “I don’t know what to do now because I am irrationally attached to you. Irrational enough to run and keep my distance just for the sake of not breaking my own heart.”

Mando was agonizingly quiet, the rise of his chest under the breastplate being the only indication he was still alive. You picked at the wooden shards stuck to your shirt, wincing at the ones stuck into the thick of your skin. Gloved hands covered yours, pulling a splinter from your forearm carefully. Your eyes lifted to see him towering over you; helmet tilted as he considered your words— and tears.

“I’m sorry for running,” you let the sobs escape your chest, breaking the barrier that you tried to build up so high.

All that you could think to do was wrap your arms around his torso, nearly pushing him over with the force of your body colliding with his. Your nose pressed against the beskar, inhaling the familiar smell of smoke and fire flooding your senses. It took a moment to feel his arms wrap around you, but you were encapsulated in his hold the second they did. 

“I’m sorry,” you muttered over and over again. It was all you could say, the only words that could subdue the swelling silence between you. 

“Shhh,” his voice was so soft, softer than you had ever heard. It struck a chord inside you, playing your heart to the tune of his baritone. You let the sound vibrate through your body, arms squeezing tighter around his back. 

“You shouldn’t feel—.”

“I know,” you quickly responded. “Trust me, I know.”

“I can’t—.”

“I know.”

“I can’t let you go,” he finished, despite your interjections. “There isn’t a corner of this galaxy you could run to where I wouldn’t find you. I would hunt you down just to keep you as mine.”

Mine.

Mine.

The possessiveness on his tongue was like honey, seeping into your veins, rearranging the molecules that made up your entire being. You were his, even from the start. You had begged him to keep you, absentmindedly wishing he would protect you from all that lingered in your past. And he did. Without question. Without asking for anything in return. Perhaps you were the reward after all.

You tried forming words, tried making sense of any coherent thought that could describe the way his admission inflicted the emotions inside you. The only sound to escape was a whimper that drifted between the small space between you. 

“Don’t leave me again.” He pressed his helmet to your forehead, a reflection of your tearful face staring back at you in the visor. You wished so badly to see his eyes despite knowing how wrong it was. You wanted to know how he looked in this moment; the pain, the anger, the relief… all of it. He was the one constant in your life, the person who had stuck by your side and protected you. And you hurt him. You could never live with yourself knowing you would have left him hollow and broken. He was your home. He was your freedom. No matter where you ended up in the galaxy, he would always be where you felt safest.

“I won’t, I promise.”

You peeled away from his embrace, brushing off the dirt littering your vest. The port was still miles away, and you knew you would never reach it. Mando would have gotten to you before you set foot on a transport. It was laughable to think about now. 

“It’s going to take at least two standard days to return to the Crest,” you sighed. 

“I don’t care.”

“Aren’t you tired?”

Mando shook his head, pulling your hand into his to lead you south. 

“We’ll find shelter somewhere tonight and make the rest of the travel tomorrow. I’ve got you now. That’s all that matters.”

The remainder of the day was spent walking in silence, and Mando never let go of your hand. Ever so often, he’d squeeze his thumb against your knuckles, a reminder he was there. You stole glances at him occasionally only to realize he was doing the same. 

“Do you hate me?” You asked after a few hours of no conversation. 

“No,” he answered. 

“I hurt you.”

“I’m okay, angel. I was more scared something worse had happened to you.”

“I’m sorry.”

Mando stopped walking, turning you toward him to capture your full attention. 

“Do you trust me?”

“Always,” you whispered. 

“Then trust me when I say I’m not angry. Not anymore, at least. I understand why you decided to run, but I need you to promise me you’ll stay. Let me give you the freedom I promised you. Don’t go without saying goodbye.”

Your lips trembled, and you nodded solemnly. 

“I don’t know if I’m strong enough to say goodbye.”

“Then don’t.”

“What’re you saying, Mando?”

“Stay. I’ll protect you. I’ll give you whatever you want, so long as you stay.”

You chewed on your lip as you contemplated his offer. You had freedom at the tip of your fingers, yet the temptation to stay swayed your mind. 

“Maybe.”

He nodded, looking towards the trees before you.

“Where does this leave us?” You asked.

“I don’t know,” he said honestly. 

You squeezed his hand this time and ushered him to keep walking. You were safe, and for now, you were his.

[the-fandom-abyss]

Greenhouse Messes

Cordelia Goode x Fem!Reader

Genre: Angst ❀

Word Count: 1,305 words

A/N: I hope you enjoy this new injection for Cordelia @lexi1109 🥰

The air around the academy, shifted from fresh to stale as you working inside the greenhouse. The lively plants whispering amongst themselves, debating on whether a danger resides outside. A few twigs cracked under a weight of an invisible source, just outside the door. This drew your attention from the garden bed you were preparing.

"What are you not telling me?" To any normal person, you would be certifiably insane with the way you spoke to yourself. For you, nature always responded, they held the answers to more questions than you could possibly ask. Wind seeped through the bottom of the door, bringing in a cold draft. The action sent shivers down your spine. "Witch hunters" you whispered, responding to the message. "Do I have time?" The flowers sagged like one would when they dropped their head in sadness. That caused the panic to vibrate within your bones. You were too far from the house to alert the others, too close to the danger to escape alive. All you could do was protect the ones you loved, even if their focus was gravitated elsewhere.

Cautious steps were taken towards the exotic eyes flitting from shadow to shadow. With a shaky breath, you entered the gloomy outdoors, filled with monsters. Bare feet made contact with the soft grass below, sensing the vibrations within the soil. You walked with conviction towards the front entrance of the academy, hoping you could make it to at least the front step. The ground shook below you, alerting to a threat. They were running hard and fast towards you, which meant they all had eyes on you. Leaning down, you connected your hands to the life below, communicating through touch. The wind began to blow, the trees began to rustle and nature was ready to harnessed. Vines stretched through the cracks of the soil, whipping into view. They wrapped around the legs of the hunter that was fast approaching, pulling him into the air.

"You bitch" he said through gritted teeth as he fought against the vine. Thorns protruded through the greenery, piercing the body of the man. He screamed in pain as the thorns continued to grow, ultimately sealing his fate. The vibe threw him to the side, searching for its next victim. When a team of ten came into view, you were quick to realise just how outnumbered you were. Tree branches snapped and bent into shape, creating makeshift arms. They reached for bodies that were close, collecting as many as they could. That didn't stop a small group from invading, slashing your back in the process. A wail ripped through your throat at the sudden sensation. The branches faulted for only a moment before regaining its strength. It was enough for some men to slip through, charging at you. In a blink of an eye, those men were lunging for you, tackling you to the floor. They plunged a knife in each hand, twisting them for extra damage. In that moment, all you could think of was one person, one name on the tip of your tongue.

"Cordelia!" You screamed, as they continued to slice your skin. It was an extension of your power, a sense that could no longer be used. A light was turned on upstairs, a silhouette of Cordelia painted on the curtain. Hope twinkled in your eyes at the thought that she could hear you. "Cordelia" another scream left you lips, losing it strength as the blood spilled from your cuts. Another silhouette joined Cordelia within the room. It could only be described as Misty, Cordelia's newest obsession. That was what was given to you in your last moments. The sight of your love, entertaining another woman while witch hunters hunted you for sport.

Blood coated the floor below like a crimson sunset that graced the horizon. The earth fluttered underneath you, urging you to fight back, use all the strength you had left. Yet, all you could do was whisper Cordelia's name and succumb to the pain that radiates through your body. The men laughed above you, enjoying the thrill of the hunt and how they could bring a witch to her untimely demise.

"Y/N!" Nan shouted, drawing the witch hunters attention. They tossed your drained essence to the ground, setting their sights on the young girl. Something inside you crackled, sparks firing through your very being. The idea of Misty with Cordelia, Nan being brutally attacked by witch hunters, fuelled the fire within. Thunder began to roll through the sky, dark clouds followed closely behind. The hunters stopped in their tracks, searching the area for the next surprise. What they didn't expect was a bolt of lightning to strike the body they had left for dead. The charges flowed through your veins, body lifting from the ground. Electrical charges swirled around you as your eyes glowed a bright golden. With a pained scream from your lips, branches from the trees shifted and snapped, shooting out like barbs. The branches finding home in each of the hunters chests, rendering them motionless.

The energy softly floated you to the ground, where Nan was able to reach you. With all her strength, she reached under your body and pulled you towards the house. The entrance foyer was newly decorated with the blood that continued to flow from your wounds. The force within the house shifted when Nan crossed the threshold. It was sensed amongst the coven, grabbing at their attention. The first to descend the stairs was Cordelia, eyes fixated on the scene in front of her.

"Y/N" she gasped, falling to her knees next to you. Her hands reached out to pull you into her lap, wanting nothing but to heal you. When you flinched at her movement, moving closer into Nan, her heart fell to her stomach. "Let me help you, please" she pleaded, unsure of what caused the turn of your emotions.

"She doesn't want your help"

"Stop being stubborn, I need to heal you or you'll die"

"You were supposed to be with her tonight"

"What?"

"A date in the greenhouse and you never showed"

"Oh Y/N, I'm so sorry" tears silently travelled down the rosy cheeks of Cordelia. The sting in her heart, knowing that she could have prevented this, if she had just paid more attention.

"Misty was more important" Cordelia was taken aback by the comment, trying to understand how you knew. "She saw you in your room, she called out for you but you couldn't hear her"

"Honey, I am so so sorry. I lost sight of what was important and in turn lost sight of you. This is all my fault" she should have been with you, she should have been able to protect you. All her focus had been directed to the newcomer Misty and had ignored her connection with you. This small distraction cause her to break the link she had with you. In doing so, she left you defenceless to the world around you, if only she could go back in time.

Regret and guilt swirled inside Cordelia as they battled one another. It trapped her in silence, so frozen that she was unable to claw herself out.“It’s so quiet” Nan’s voice broke through her haze, Cordelia’s eyes snapping towards the young girl.

“Y/N let me help!” Her hands twitched with urgency, she wanted nothing more than to channel her energy through you.

“I love you” slipped from Nans lips, the final thoughts and words of the woman that saved the school. Cordelia may have broken the connection, but she felt every last ache that you had felt. She absorbed the hurt and anguish and carried it upon her shoulders. All she had left were the memories that you shared and even then, they couldn’t compare to you.

[mintyisms]

More More Starters from the NeoBoards

quotes randomly taken from the Neopets boards, edited for clarity

"You're asking if someone with heatstroke is about to run a marathon."

"This has been another certified bathroom moment."

"When I was a little kid I thought there was cheese on the stovetop so I reached up and grabbed it and ate a huge bite out of it and then realized it was butter."

"I think chiropractors should be hunted for sport, actually."

"There's really no limit to the chip and dip combinations you're legally allowed to enjoy."

"I have a theory that you need to find your humor sense and touch grass. But it's only a theory."

"Leave the depressed man alone."

"Do you bite?"

"What are we gonna do with all this cheese?!"

"If I saw a fish swimming towards me with possessed eyes and a glowing antenna I would start crying."

"I just wanna dress up my stupid pets."

"Do you know any molecular compounds that will make me not obsessed with this?"

"Looks like the start of a support group. Pass the donuts please."

"John Legend is behind this."

"I guess even ants get fed up with situations and lash out at friends."

"People want Othello and Iago to hold hands and skip along the beach while singing and I do not get it."

"I am in love with my facial steamer and skincare fridge."

"When you guys say something is for girls and the gays can you say it's for the girls the gays and Kevin?"

"No I've never heard of John Carver, despite taking lots of American history in middle school."

"I'm not looking forward to the gigantic lore retcon that seems to be taking shape."

"Please be respectful. I'm trying to own up to my lies and deceits."

"My current location is the park. I'm looking for fights."

"I'm a dwarf, and I'm digging a hole. Diggy, diggy hole."

"The urge to rip my skin off is ruining me day..."

"Lady, wear the platform boots."

"I want one of those giant cookie cakes from Mrs. Fields that says 'Congrats on bald'."

"Smash some red bulls and grab some crayons to eat."

"I was also wondering why you're friends with this person. Do they have some redeeming qualities?

"I want to buy an ice cream maker and put greek yogurt in it."

"I kind of want to make up a Hamtaro fursona now, actually."

[beatingheart-writingwoes]

Mini Story: The Lake

Description: Bill and Honey try to have a fun date at the lake. Things so south when a strangers starts drowning.

Warnings: Aftermath of drowning, emeto warning, female resus, use on an AED, modern setting

Honey cut through the water effortlessly, dragging a lifeless woman with her. Bill was frozen for a moment, fear gripping him at his core until he heard his wife yell. "BILL! I NEED HELP!"

"Shit!" He waded forward into the water, meeting Honey and the stranger in the middle and helping her drag the unconscious woman to shore. She was pale– too pale– and her shoulder length brown hair stuck to her skin. Once on the shore, the two set her down. Her brown eyes were half-lidded and staring up at nothing.

“Phone?” Honey asked, kneeling as Bill leaned over the woman to check for breathing.

“On the porch.” He replied. “I can’t tell if she’s breathing–”

“Start CPR, I’ll get the phone and AED!” She jumped up to her feet and sprinted towards the cabin.

Bill swallowed thickly as he tugged down the woman’s swim top to expose her chest. He’d never performed CPR on an actual person, but he did make sure to keep certified just in case. He tipped the woman’s head back and pinched her nose closed before sealing his mouth over hers and forcing a breath into her waterlogged lungs. There was resistance, but her chest did rise. He pulled away, her chest fell with a small gurgle. That wasn’t good. He gave her another breath and was met with the same result. He straightened and stacked his hands to the center of her chest. Rolling his shoulders above his hands and keeping his arms straight, he started pushing down and letting up in a steady rhythm. Immediately, there was a horrible gurgling followed by water bubbling up from the poor woman’s nose and mouth. He continued compressions, counting under his breath. Once he hit thirty, he turned her head to the side to let the water flow out and quickly swept his fingers between her teeth in case she vomited anything more than just water before straightening her head and giving her another two breaths.

Two cycles in, and Honey returned, red pack under her arm and phone to her ear, running as quickly as she could. She pulled the phone away and tapped a button, putting in speaker mode. “My husband is doing CPR. We have an AED, we’re going to use it!” She announced the operator. She knelt down across from Bill and started unpacking the AED, setting the phone down. She smoothed back her dark curls from her face, following the instructions from the device. She pulled out the pads and peeled off the film before placing them on the woman’s chest, working around Bill. One went just under her right collar bone and the other lower on her left side just under her left breast. She plugged the connector in and the machine announced it was analyzing. “Bill, baby, don’t touch her.”

He lifted his hands and scooted back to let the machine work.

“Shock advised. Charging,” The machine declared. Honey leaned forward and gave another few chest compressions as the device charged. “Shock ready. Do not touch the patient. Pushed the flashing button now.” The woman then pulled back and pressed the flashing orange button on the machine.

The lifeless woman jerked, chest lifting slightly and arms leaping off of the ground briefly before flopping back onto the grass.

“Shock delivered. Continue with two minutes of CPR.”

Just as Honey started tilting her head back, the other woman suddenly hacked up another mouthful of water and gagged, clawing at the ground. “Oh! Oh God!” She and Bill both quickly turned her onto her side to let her cough up whatever was still left in her.

“What’s happening?” The forgotten 911 operator asked.

“I think she’s breathing!” Bill stated. “Oh my God.”

“The ambulance is about two minutes out. If she has a pulse and is breathing, make sure to roll her into the recovery position.” They informed. The two were already ahead of them, though, as Honey adjusted the wheezing and gasping woman’s arms and legs.

“I think she’s going to be ok?” He said, looking up at his wife, unsure.

Honey returned the unsure look as they both heard sirens approaching.

[conditionsofablog]

1, 10, 20, 30, 40, 50, 60, 70, 80, 90, and 100 :D

Wherever I Go - Jacob Collier ft. Lawrence & Michael McDonald - #1

I was very much anticipating the release of Djesse volume 3, and while I am one hundred percent sure this isn't my actual top song and Spotify messed with my stats this year, it's a solid listen. Experimental as all Jacob songs tend to be, it's a zany banger about remaining connected whenever you're apart, and the pain of missing someone is really well illustrated by three band kids screaming in three part harmony. Since this is my half alive blog, I'll link it to this; if you liked Brighton off of LP 2. Conditions of a Punk, you might like this.

Did I Make You Up? - Acoustic - half alive - #10

I love, love, love whenever we get an acoustic drop, and this one just happened to be on Spotify, so I got lucky and happened to listen to it at least 6 times a day. To be entirely honest, I was a little worried about it being a guitar acoustic set with this song as my favourite part of original DIMYU? was the little piano melody that runs through the chorus, but it translated super well into an addictive little guitar melody instead.

Call Back - half alive - #20

Just a fun, easy going, maybe slightly sad song that we don't need to talk about ramifications of. Everyone knows I love Josh Taylor, and they gave me 3 of him, in one song. At the same time. Certified cruising down the motorway banger - end of story.

Steppin' To The Bad Side - Deluxe Package Edition - Cast of Dreamgirls - #30

Past my secret little musical theatre sideblog, and the stuff I get up to when I'm not writing secret little theories about my favourite band on Tumblr dot com, I don't really talk about how much I love Dreamgirls and musical theatre as a whole. This is my favourite song from it, and though Jimmy Early isn't my dream broadway role (Effie is), this song is a genuine banger, especially the latter portion where they let Eddie Murphy take the role away. Far and away, his performance in this film is his best performance on screen, and it needs to be spoken about more. It is such a shame he didn't win any awards for this role, because he deserved them. Once again, this is my half alive blog, so if you like Automatic, of off LP. 3 Persona, you might like this.

Vanilla Curls - Teddy Hyde - #40

It is always such a treat when I am allowed to listen to a Teddy Hyde song; they are always so thick with imagery and he is a master on keys. Though I will gladly sit and talk about the man behind the song - and am thoroughly awaiting the newest album which appears to be releasing this Friday, I need to give this song its flowers. Vanilla Curls touches on the feeling of falling and being tangled in love with someone, but not a true, genuine love, more the puppy love of sitting barefoot on the grass and looking at the stars. It is a beautifully romantic ballad, with just a hint of something terribly, terribly wrong, and Teddy Hyde does an amazing job on the classical instrumentalisation of it. Everything is layered for a beautiful Sunday morning listening experience. If you liked Songs off of LP 3. Persona, you might like this one.

RUNAWAY - half alive - #50

Without going into too much detail, 2024 was a whirlwind and kept to the tempo of this song far too often. In those moments it was very useful to be reminded that I didn't need to rush into what I was trying to do, and that taking things at the pace they were being given to me was okay. Things didn't go to plan, but Now, Not Yet, did a fabulous job of keeping me right where I needed to be, and 5 years past its release is still as timely and relevant as the day it dropped.

When I Get There - Peter Cottontale w/ Jamila Woods, Grace Weber, Jack Red, Jamilah Woods, Jon Batiste, Maurice Brown, PJ Morton, Jeremih - #60

I am not a Christian, but I am black, and Gospel music is so firmly entrenched in our culture, so it's no surprise this ended up on my wrapped. It is meant as a celebration of life after death; the 'There' referenced is Heaven - and this is lovely imagery that I won't deny. Since I do not personally believe, it's not the imagery I ascribe to the song, and I just love the feeling of people singing and celebrating something together. And the fact it features so many incredible black artists I listen to independently isn't a bad thing either. I truly don't believe there's any equivalency for this one, but give it go! It's delightful.

Stronger Than You - Estelle - #70

Am I outing myself as a Steven Universe fan? Yes. Am I ashamed? Only a little a bit. Does this song still bang 4 years after the end of the show? Abso-fucking-lutely. It is a song about love, but the power of mutual love. The metaphor itself is more ham-fisted than the regular subtleties of half alive but it is a powerful reminder of both love for another person making you strong and lifting you up, as well as self love - 'I am Made of Love' is something I tend to forget, so the lyrical reminder that my love is stronger than hate really tends to resonate with me. There is no equivalency with a half alive song, but ok ok tend to project the same image or feeling.

Nothing Has Changed - The Polar Boys - #80

This song entered my rotation in October and hasn't left since. It's a delightful run of surf rock mixed with a disgustingly poignant depiction of nostalgia and missing someone. It's a song you can break down over and break dance to, and the bass is loud enough to be incredibly addictive without overpowering the mix. It's almost anthemic, especially with the building outro, and anyone who knows my musical tastes knows I love it when multiple people are singing at the same time. If you liked Lie, Lie off of LP 3. Persona, you'll love this.

So Damn Fast - Lawrence - #90

Lawrence got a LOT of hate this year, which sucked, because I was on TikTok for all of it. That being said, it doesn't take away from the listening experience of their first EP, Homesick. This, being my favourite song off of it, is a refreshing take on NYC Soulpop without being too poppy. I am outing myself as Lawrence fan (though the newest LP isn't my favourite). This song just gives great Randy Newman vibes, and is a good sing-along song to me. It's hard to describe, but it's just good.

Pocket - Louie Zong, Brian David Gilbert, Jeff Liu - #100

Finally, a little bluesy jazz moment from my two favourite internet microcelebs and an incredible instrumentalist. It's a great song to just lose yourself in and sing like you're in a hazy blues bar, and past the deeply metaphorical lyrics, the instrumental break in the middle is just a fun time.

I hope this is adequate enough description without being verbose! My only wish would be that there was more Persona on my wrapped but unfortunately that is the curse of dropping an album at the end of the year... :(

[bibibievansbuckley]

Omg!

How about "Horse!"

Ken buzzes with excitement. He's been waiting a long time for this day to come - it feels like an entire lifetime's passed him by. The fragments of his life shattered by Patrick are finally starting to come together, reshaping. It won't be the same as before. It's eerily reminiscent of Barbie Land and his life after the Kendom.

He's Real, with a family, friends, and a Real job. A life built from nothing, torn piece by piece until there was nearly nothing left. The foundation is shakier now, threatening to crumble under the slightest touch, but Ken has worked with less.

A shaky foundation, after all, is better than no foundation.

There is Before Patrick and After Patrick. The times before Patrick were beautiful, more fulfilling than Ken had even imagined. The world was bright and colorful, a realm of possibilities at his fingertips. After Patrick means nightmares and panic attacks, jumping at every shadow and a burning desire to cover his neck. But there's also the feeling of Colt's hand in his, the scent of Barbie burning her second batch of brownies, the rush of a night out with friends.

He'd forgotten about a lot of things. He'd forgotten how to live. It's slow going, but he's slowly starting to remember.

--

Ken pulls into a spot in front of the sprawling ranch, sucking in a deep breath, relishing the scent of freshly cut grass. Before Patrick, the ranch was a huge part of his life. He volunteered at the horse sanctuary every week without fail, but as Patrick's control tightened, his time at the ranch had dwindled until he just...stopped. It was easier to do whatever Patrick wanted, to try to keep him happy. Not that it ever worked, especially once Colt came into the picture.

Colt showed Ken how to break those oppressive chains, helped Ken remember how much he loved being free. Colt's the one who encouraged him to return to the sanctuary.

"Horses are your thing, dollface. Don't let that asshole ruin that for you."

He's talked about this in therapy. Reclaiming his power, putting his life back together. Picking up the pieces has been daunting, but horses are safe. They're kind, gentle, nonjudgmental. And Ken knows everything about most of the horses here - how they like to be brushed, which humans they like the best, who loves carrots and which ones would rather have sugar cubes. He's itching to saddle up, but it's been over a year since he's ridden. It'll take him and the horses time to get used to each other again.

--

"Ken! Hi!"

Ken barely registers what's happening before the owner of the voice is barreling into him. "Oomph!" He looks down to see Eve, the owner's daughter. She had a birthday recently, he thinks. Twenty-one? He returns the hug, squeezing a bit. Eve was always one of his favorites. "Hi, Evie. It's good to see you."

Eve pulls back, green eyes shining with excitement, grinning widely. "Mom said you were coming back, but I told her I wouldn't believe it 'til I saw you. Are you okay? Where've you been? We've missed you tons."

Ken's smile falters. Tough questions were to be expected. Colt spent hours rehearsing answers with him, but in the moment, he blanks. "It's kind of complicated." Is he okay? Debatable. He decides to sidestep it completely, saying, "I've missed you guys, too. I promise I'll explain, but...It's been a lot."

Eve narrows her eyes, and Ken gulps. She's perceptive, and her gaze can be intense, like she's seeing right through her subject. His shoulders slump when Eve offers him a one-shouldered shrug. "Okay. I'm just glad you're back. And I know someone else who'll be, too."

He and Eve walk side by side down to the stables. She chats animately about everything that's been happening at the sanctuary, especially the equine therapy program. "Newly certified," she says proudly. "We get a lot of adults, surprisingly. I thought it'd be more kids."

She opens the doors, and Ken drinks in the sight of the horses. They're so beautiful. There are some newcomers, but he glimpses at the second to last stall on the right and gasps.

Eve smirks knowingly. "Told ya. She's gonna flip shit when she sees you. She's missed you a lot."

Ken makes a beeline for the stall. The horse is already standing, neighing excitedly at the sound of his voice, and Ken laughs in delight. "Hi, Hazel," he coos, reaching out his hand. "Hi, sweetie. I've missed you so much."

Hazel's young, only about five years old. She'd been rescued from a neglectful farmer in rural Tennessee, and she'd been timid when she arrived at the sanctuary. Terrified of humans, flinching from their touches. It took Ken months to earn her trust. He let her come to him. For the first three months, he mostly existed around her - caring for the other horses, mucking the stalls, letting her study and get to know him. He often felt her eyes boring into his back. He chatted with her, letting her get used to the sound of his voice.

And then one day, she nudged his hand for a sugar cube. She deemed him safe. They bonded quickly after that, and everyone knew that he was Hazel's favorite.

Ken thought about her often after he stopped going. He would stay awake staring at the walls, aching to get back to the sanctuary. Horses are intelligent creatures, and Hazel probably thought he abandoned her. The guilt was all-consuming. How do you explain violent, controlling partners to a horse?

"She cried when you were gone."

Ken jumps at the sound of Eve's voice. She stares at man and horse sadly, and Ken sucks in a sharp breath. "She cried?"

"Yeah. She missed you a lot."

"I missed her, too." Hazel leans into Ken's touch, and he threads his fingers through her soft, black mane. Tears slip from the horse's eyes, and Ken's heart clenches. He rests her forehead against her snout, and Hazel sighs contentedly.

"I'm sorry, sweetie. I'm never leaving you again, okay?"

He guides Hazel out to pasture. She stays glued to his side, content to have her human back with her at long last. He quickly snaps a photo and sends it to Colt.

You were right. This was a good idea. Can I bring her home with me?

[eleemosynecdoche]

'Go on,' Rose Madder said, and touched the back of her head. Rosie took a step toward the picture, mostly to get away from even the lightest touch of that cold and awful hand . As she did, she realized she could hear - very faintly - the sound of traffic. Crickets jumped around her feet and ankles in the high grass. 'Go on, little Rosie Real. Thank you for saving my baby.'

'Our baby,' Rosie said, and was instantly horrified. A person who corrected this woman had to be insane herself.

But the woman in the reddish-purple chiton sounded amused rather than angry when she replied. 'Yes, yes, if you like - our baby. Go on, now. Remember what you have to remember, and forget what you need to forget. Protect yourself while you are outside the circle of my regard.'

Certified yuri moment in a Stephen King novel...

[certifiedcupidsarasota]

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Weave in Bohemian Touches:

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Capture the Moment:

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With Certified Cupid Picnics and Proposals by your side, you can create a beach wedding proposal that's as unique and beautiful as your love story. Let the sand, the sunset, and the spirit of boho guide you to an unforgettable "Yes!”

[spacemilkbag]

.

[normalcoric]

Desire Path - Prologue

decided it’d be fun to share the Hermitcraft fic i’m working on so here’s the prologue.

Chapter Summary: A new season arrives, but the Boatem Crew is still stuck in the Void with nothing better to do. Life gets boring when you’ve been falling for months. That is, of course, until Grian has a nightmare unlike any he’s had before.

Characters: Grian, Mumbo, Scar, Pearl, and Impulse

Warnings: Panic attack, temporary character death (he comes back to life in the next chapter)

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

He’s been falling for months now. He saw nothing but an endless void for months, burning into his eyes. Stars trace the inside of his eyelids, reminding him that he falls even when he sleeps, when he dreams of touching ground, feeling soft grass beneath his talons. 

He doesn’t even think he’s falling anymore. He feels stagnant. He feels nothing through the suit he wears to breathe in this vacuum. He wraps withered wings around his form in hope of comfort. Mumbo offers him a reassuring smile as they fall endlessly into nothing. 

Scar attempts humour as he always does, telling stories of seasons long since passed. Pearl talks about how much she’d enjoyed the season, despite the horrors of… that thing. 

(Even the thought of the moon makes him sick.)

Impulse speaks of his factory, how successful it was, and his deal with Evil Xisuma.

Months pass with growing boredom. They could only reminisce for so long. Grian falls asleep during most conversations, unable to keep heavy lids open for long.

He dreamt of something strange once, while trapped in that endless void.

He dreamt of something speaking to him in tongues he couldn’t yet understand. A shapeless being looming over him, whispering sweet nothings to him. He dreamt of an open wound, bleeding golden ichor onto the earth. Creatures from within spill words of warmth and protection, drawing him in as he reaches with a shaking hand. He can almost see what lies on the other side. He feels lucid as he moves closer. 

And he sees it. 

He sees something he cannot understand. 

He doesn’t understand. He can’t understand he could NEVER UNDERSTAND WHAT THE FU–

His eyes shoot open as he screams, claws scratching at his visor with a new, primal fear he’s never felt before. He repeats words so fast he can barely make them out. His vision blurs and he can hardly hear anything other than nails carving scars into the glass of his visor. He can’t breathe. He can’t remember how to breathe. He doesn’t know how to breathe he doesn’t understand he doesn’t understand he doesn’t–

Mumbo grabs his wrists, pulling them from his head. He stares dead into Grian’s eyes, expression stern but worried. 

“Breathe, Grian,” Mumbo says in a gentle voice. It’s like molten honey.

“Nonononononono you don’t get it, I can’t breathe, there’s no air, it took my air–”

“Nothing took your air. You need to breathe, Grian.” 

Scar pipes up, “Very true! These are certified Swaggon air ta–” he quickly cuts himself off when he finally sees the frantic look in Grian’s eyes. “Ahhh… never mind, bad time?”

Grian slows his breathing the best he can. His hot breath fogs up his visor. He squeezes his eyes shut so he can’t feel any more trapped than he already does.

Stars trace the inside of his eyelids. 

He is falling.

(Is he?)

He can breathe.

(He thinks he can.)

He opens his eyes. Stars frame the faces of Boatem in glittering halos. 

“Are you okay?” Mumbo asks quietly, tired eyes glinting with fear. 

Grian lets out a shaky breath, and nods. “Yeah. Just a– just a bad dream.”

Mumbo lets go of Grian’s wrists and floats away gently, maintaining eye contact for a moment longer. 

There’s another long silence as Grian comes to his senses. Scar glances at each member of Boatem, trying to get a feel for the room.

“So, wanna bet on how much longer you all think we’ll be falling before we hit ground?”

There’s a collective groan. Pearl buries her face in her hands. Impulse mumbles something to himself about this being the twenty-eighth time Scar’s said this. Mumbo laughs quietly while complaining about them all being broke. Grian simply rolls his eyes.

“I mean, last time I checked, it’s been a lot more than a week…” Scar says, throwing a glance at Impulse.

“How are you checking the time?” Pearl asks with a laugh. “Where is your clock?” She adds, spinning around with her arms out for emphasis. 

“I’m just saying! I have an impeccable sense of time, you know.”

“Yeah, okay,” Impulse snorts.

“Oookay, that’s it. C’mere–” Scar reaches for Impulse, who easily dodges the very non-fatal blow.

Mumbo gasps, appalled. “No fighting in the void! These are even grounds!”

Grian lets out a huff of a laugh, “Even ground? You’re higher up than everyone else here!” “I’m just tall, that’s all.”

“You’re literally the same height as Pearl.”

“I am not! I’m incredibly tall. I’m almost two and a half blocks, you know.”

“As if! Come here, we’re comparing height,” Pearl says, grabbing Mumbo’s leg.

“Hey hey hey! Hands off! I paid for this!” Mumbo sputters, trying to shake Pearl off as she pulls him closer.

“Well, actually…” Scar drawls as he’s put into a headlock. “You’re the only one that didn’t have any diamonds for payment, Mumbo…”

“Why, you..! I’d never.”

Pearl hooks her arm over Mumbo’s shoulder with ease. “You’re, like, three pixels taller than me! That’s nothing!” she laughs, punching him gently.

“Well, at least I’m taller than Grian.”

Grian lets out a loud gasp, wings opening defensively. He pushes himself toward Mumbo, who barely has time to react as Grian sends them tumbling. Fake-fights break out across the void, with the only bystander laughing her head off. Of course, Scar is a man of fair trade, so he wiggles out of Impulse’s grasp and tackles Pearl. Impulse only eggs them on. 

That is, of course, until a new light glows at their feet.

“Hey, wait, guys…” Impulse says nervously. 

The fights stop, if only for a moment. They all turn their gaze to the demon staring wide-eyed downward. 

“Does… does that look like an actual sky to you?” Impulse continues, pointing down. “I think I see clouds… oh my gods…”

Impulse laughs like a madman. Everyone else looks down. 

Feathery clouds slip by, painting the blue sky beneath them with pastels. They can see hints of green grass peeking through the gaps in their vision. 

Everyone starts laughing, cheering, wooping, hollering, shouting. Everyone lets their joy scatter across the void. Grian hugs Mumbo as tears fill his eyes. Mumbo laughs hysterically into the crook of Grian’s neck. 

Grian looks up. He feels himself changing as the wind strikes his suit, whistling past the cracks, slipping down his wings. His wings shrink, frantic patchwork fixing itself. He turns to face everyone else. 

Scar pulls off his helmet, breathing deeply. His ears are longer, flicking happily. Gold sprouts from his growing hair, braiding itself as gravity finally takes hold of them. 

Grian pushes off Mumbo, pulling off his helmet. 

Cold wind strikes his face, flooding all of his senses. He pulls off the rest of his suit, much like the other Boatem members, letting the pieces fly away. Grian twirls happily as the wind rushes through his hair, seeping into his bones. 

He feels free. 

He opens his small wings, nearly sobbing as the wind pounds against them. He smiles. He lets the wind consume him, rushing through his veins, wrapping around his very soul, sinking deep into his lungs. 

He looks up, watching the void fall away into the overwhelming blue. 

He smiles and closes his eyes. 

Stars trace the inside of his eyelids. 

He falls forever into nothing. 

He barely makes a sound as his ribs shatter with the impact.

[jangofctts]

Anything at All (boba fett x fem!reader) (part one) (part two) 

Rated: Explicit 18+

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: smut, even mORE thrONE fucking, oral sex (f receiving), boba’s a biter, unprotected sex (dont be silly, wrap thAT wiLLY), vaginal fingering, explicit language, boba is a grouchy dom kwjhgjh       

a/n: anyway I think yall forget im a writer and not just a Certified Clown, but anywAy here we be. HAPPY NEW YEARS ya FILTHY anIMALS im so thankful for all yall and im glad I can provide you with some entertainment kaejhejhr

  You haven’t seen Boba Fett in days. 

Called away on business you’ll never be included in or know the fine details about. It’s not kept away from you because he doesn’t trust you, or thinks you’re a mindless idiot—no—he’d rather keep his princess occupied with prettier things. No need to concern yourself with the the underbelly of what he now rules. 

You’re not upset about it—you’re not really a fan of watching petty squabbles that’ll result in someone’s chest being imploded by a blaster. You’ve seen enough of it in the cantina, and while you were never the one tasked with clearing the bodies out—it was still mildly traumatizing. Eh—no need to dwell. 

You’ve got other shit to do anyway. 

There’s a seemingly endless zigzag of secret hallways and dusty rooms within the palace, teeming with strange knickknacks and ancient artifacts that are more than likely cursed. Definitely haunted—but it doesn’t stop you from exploring or sorting through the useless junk. Besides—Fennec stayed behind, acting as your glorified babysitter for the past few cycles—ensuring your safety from both whoever dared step foot into the palace and the ghosts. What a lovely woman. 

Speaking of which—you hear her sigh and shuffle, shifting her weight onto her other foot as she leans back against a dusty crate. She picks at the dirt beneath her fingernails, lazily glancing up every now and then to check that you haven’t eviscerated yourself on a piece of scrap metal or something. Lucky for her, all you found today was an abandoned crate of old datapacs shoved in the back corner from what you assumed to be some sort of office. Yesterday you found a sword that was promptly confiscated.  

“I’d be careful snooping around in those,” Fennec warns as your fingers find the on switch. “You never know what sorta data the Hutts were keeping here.”

You shrug and wave away her concern, reading over the information that flickers across the screen. “I think I’ll be ok…See?” You pointedly wave the datapac in her direction. “This one is about the finances. Spooky.”    

Fennec rolls her eyes followed by an amused smirk that ghosts over her lips. You toss it aside and root around some more, pulling out another datapac. The blue hologram flickers to life and as you decipher the little lines of text your face falls. Each line is a name, previous and recently bought or traded people that crossed the threshold of the palace. Fennec was right. This isn’t fun anymore.    

“These are…slaves.” Your lips curls in disgust. “How is this still not outlawed? It’s barbaric.”      

“You’re not from Tatooine, are you?” Fennec asks as she meanders over and wrestles the datapac out of your hands. She switches it off and tosses it back into the dusty crate. You huff and cross your arms over your chest.  

“No,” you agree. “Im from Arkanis. But even there we don’t have slaves.” 

Fennec squats beside you, her elbows resting over her bent knees. She playfully taps your shoulder with the back of her hand and quirks a brow. “What’d I tell you—snooping doesn’t do anyone any good.”

You roll your eyes and shrug, a frown still etched on your lips. Fennec sighs, rubs her chin and then reaches out to push a stray hair behind your ear. A flush blooms up your cheeks at the gentle touch. 

“You have a sensitive soul, Kitten,” she chuckles, poking at your cheek that you’re certain she can feel the heat emirate from. “You said you were from Arkanis—tell me about it. Why come to Tatooine?”

Your lips quirk in a tiny smile as you bat away her pointer finger, saving your cheek from another poke. “Hey—not everyone likes rain ok?” You huff. “Besides, Tatooine wasn’t supposed to be permanent.”

She nods. Unsure what exactly to tell her--a silence ensues. It’s not terribly awkward but it’s enough that makes you jumpy and itching to move on from this room now stained with information you weren’t prepared on finding. You stand suddenly, brush yourself off and mutter under your breath about finding something less…heartbreaking. 

Fennec jumps up as well and when you leave the room her hand clamps over your shoulder. She spins you around and levels her gaze onto you. “You’re free to leave whenever you like. You know that right?”

Your brows furrow. “I know—don’t worry, I want to stay.”

Her head bobs with a satisfied nod. “We’d miss you if you left. You’re nice to have around.”

You blush again and mumble out a thank you, shooting off into another unexplored location to escape Fennec’s knowing smirk. Maker—you’re embarrassing.  

                               -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Boba returns later that afternoon—the shadow of his familiar figure stretches around the curved stairway, the purposeful stomps of his boots against the carved steps following with it. Your heart flutters within your chest, like a distressed creature with wings as you jump from your makeshift seat.

You come face to face with Boba. Or, helmet rather—whatever. 

The smell of hot metal and dry air sticks to him as he paces closer, closing the small gap that separates him from you. You’re frozen beneath the heavy weight of his stare behind the void like black of his visor as he plants himself firmly before you, close enough that his cuirass could brush your chest if he puffed out his own chest.   

“Hi…” You smile, a fragile vale of uncertainty blanketing the pair of you—still attempting to feel out his mood, sort through the general gruffness of his personality and gage wether or not you could reach out and touch him. The helmet is a tricky thing to read and his body language gives nothing away. You swallow your nerves take a leaping risk.   

“Let me see your face.” You murmur. You move your hands up to the edges of his helmet at a snail’s pace, giving him ample time to slip through your fingers—wedge a sharp thorn between whatever it is that you’ve built and name it for what it is.

He doesn’t choose that option. 

With a low hum, Boba dips his helmet closer to your outstretched fingertips instead. The metal is cool under your palms as they fold over the sides of the helmet and pull up. The metal whispers against his skin like wind through tall grass as the point of his chin peeks out, followed by his lips, his nose, and finally those golden brown eyes. They glitter with amusement as you release a shaky breath, the helmet the only thing acting as a barrier as you clutch it near your sternum. His mouth quirks when you blush and glance away—focusing on the little silvery nicks the green paint refused to cover. You rub your thumb over the blaster pockmark that dents the metal—you frown. You hope that wasn’t recent. 

Boba gently pries the helmet out of your hands and sets it onto the armrest of his throne. He purrs your name and pinches your chin between his forefinger and thumb, leading your attention back to him. Your eyes flit up his scars—your breath catching in your throat as he smiles.

“Hello, princess,” he says—the grit and timbre of this new nickname jumpstarting your heart to skip and choke on its own tireless beat.

You roll your bottom lip between your teeth and shake your head. “Boba, I’m not—“

He doesn’t let you finish your sentence—

Boba spreads his fingers over your jaw, tilts your head and swoops down to meet your lips in a dizzying kiss. Hard, hungry, victorious, breathless—like he’s spent years fighting and only now takes a moment to slow down—drown in the softness of your lips and skin. His hands claw at your arms, your clothes, your hair—like you’re the spoils of battle and he fears losing you to the shadows of his past and some hidden horror that nips at his heels. He kisses like a man terrified that this will be brief, intangible and something that’ll abandon him.

He trails after your lips when you break away—your lungs heaving for precious air. He doesn’t let you go far, ensuring your positioning by tangling his fist into your hair at the nape of your neck and scraping his lips up your cheek, enticing you into another kiss. You tilt you chin to meet him with equal fervor, whining as his warm tongue curls sweetly into your mouth. His existence fills your veins with liquid silver—evokes the bloom of crackling star fire beneath the cavity of your ribcage. Every thought starts with him and ends with your heart aching to burst into a million tiny shards.   

The next time you part,  Boba is the first one to pull away. He cups your cheeks between his weathered hands and plants a tender kiss just below your hairline. You swear you can feel the skin buzz from the touch—like every atom in your being was solely created for him to command and conquer. You sigh and lean into his palm. 

“I missed you.” You admit with a small smile. 

Boba leans closer and presses another kiss to your forehead. “And I you, little one.”

“I got worried, y’know,” you continue, your fingers tapping a trail up the front of his chest plate. You trace the repainted insignia with your fingernail and flash him a coy smirk. “You never called—thought maybe you found a new pretty thing.”

He grunts, shakes his head and sweeps a rogue strand of hair behind your ear. “Hilarious—my hands are full enough with you hounding me every five minutes.”

You puff out your bottom lip and feign offense, mumbling some lame whine like a petulant brat. Boba snorts and crowds closer. He presses his gloved thumb between your furrowed brows, smoothing out the wrinkles and then cups your cheeks between both palms. You freeze as he carefully knocks the crown of his forehead onto yours—it’s sweet.

An excited smile splits when he moves his head to your right, the syllables of each word rolling off his tongue sweeter than spiced honey. “I’ll make it up to you, pretty thing,” he whispers by your ear, his warm breath disturbing the fine hairs there. “How does that sound, hm?”

That’s not even a question you would ever dream of denying—you quickly nod. “I’d like that.” 

Boba drops his hands from your face and peels himself away. His eyes trickle down your figure—calculative and analytic—planning out each move to pick apart the entirety of your being. “Take everything off.”

You comply without a second thought—slipping free from the breezy cotton and scratchy poncho you stole from a storage room. The fabric pools at your feet in an unceremonious pile—leaving you bare for him. Despite the sickening dry heat that pollutes the air and causes beads of sweat to gather at your hairline—goosebumps rush up your arms under Boba’s piercing stare. 

Boba’s eyes flicker to the throne. A feral grin tugs at his lips. “Sit.”

This time you hesitate. Did he…? No—you must’ve heard wrong— 

He quirks a brow and gestures to the throne. “Well? Are you going to listen?”

Your tongue slides over your chapped lips. “O-ok..I just—never mind…”

Scrounging up some courage, you gingerly seat yourself onto Boba Fett’s throne. Chills race along the entirety of your body as the freezing metal seeps into your warm flesh. You squirm and beat away the urge to wrap your arms around yourself—he wouldn’t like that—probably would take it as some sort of insult anyway—

All your current discomforts melt away in a fraction of a breath as Boba Fett lowers himself to one knee, and then the other. A king kneeling before his very own throne for someone like you. Someone who’ll be lost to the pages of history and the endless swirl of galaxies and supernovas—you’re nobody to the world, but to him you’re everything. You inhale a shaky breath as a strange stroke of pride alights through your body as he peels off his gloves and maneuvers himself flush against the edge of the throne and between your thighs.    

Boba bows forward and slips his calloused hands around your ribcage to tug you closer. His lips land over your collar bone, slides his tongue over the protrusion then sinks his teeth into you there. You gasp as he slides lower, leading a trail of bruises and teeth marks in his wake. Boba moves his palms, up and in to grab at your breasts, the flats of his fingertips rolling over your nipples. A whimper escapes past your lips as he catches the pebbled bud between his lips, the hard enamel of his teeth scraping over it—meant to tease. Your nails dig into the fabric bunched around his neck as he moves on to suck your other nipple, the cooling saliva sending a chill down your spine as it dries.

You squirm, unable close your legs or to relieve some of that burning tension collecting in your core. You’re already wet—worked up and impatient. You roll your head back onto your shoulders and bite your lip. If you complain and tell him to hurry up you’re scared he’ll leave you like this—deny you that pleasure you’ve been craving for days.  

It feels like ages before he moves on from your breasts, now smattered with bruises and his saliva, and carves out a blinding path down your sternum, your belly, then your navel with his tongue. Boba circles your bellybutton—you force down the ticklish nerves and stay still for him. 

You don't mean to jump as his rough hands drop over your knees. You barely get out the first syllable of an apology when his hands slip up your bare thighs, curl around the swell of your ass and yank. You squeak as the edge of the throne bites into your tailbone, the majority of your lower half forced to lean on Boba’s shoulders and his greedy hands. He kisses the inside of your knee—you jolt with an airy gasp. 

Boba picks up his head and smirks. “Look at me when I taste you, little one.”

Mouth suddenly drier than dust, you nod dumbly. 

He hums, satisfied with your weak response and continues on.  

Boba’s bare fingers trace minuscule patterns into the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, coaxing out a shiver. They sweep up towards the apex of your thighs, settling close enough to reach your aching center. You know he’s there—it’s impossible to ignore him—but you curse anyway when you feel his thumbs softly part the lips of your soaking cunt. They steadily work up and down, smearing your wetness around but never enough to give you any friction. You bite back a groan as your hips unconsciously twitch. 

“Patience, princess,” he rumbles, shifting his weight to better reach your cunt. “Maker—you’re dripping already.”   

There's a moment just before Boba commits, his face hovering close enough that you can feel his sticky, hot breath, anticipation gripping your chest. And then he licks a broad stripe from the base of your pussy all the way up to your swollen clit. 

His mouth Is searing, his tongue like liquid velvet as you shudder and grab at his head. He grunts against you as you drag him closer—greedy for everything he deems you worthy of. Boba’s mouth pinpoints around your clit, sucking and tracing circles over the bundle of nerves with the tip of his tongue. Your eyes flutter—it’s a struggle not to shut them completely. He asked you to watch after all… 

He then trails lower, sucks on your labia, and makes his way down to your entrance. The wet heat of his tongue circles your entrance, skips over it completely to lick at the wetness dripping lower that threatens to pool onto the throne or the floor. He opens his mouth wide and hums in appreciation, devouring your pussy like he’s been denied this his entire life. 

“Fuck—Boba,” you cry, canting your hips into his mouth. 

It's perfect. So fucking good. 

The tips of his thick fingers, two of them, press at your entrance, teasing the fluttering ring of soft muscle before sinking in. The two digits slip in with ease—all the way up to the second knuckle and when he draws them back, they're slick with your wetness, glinting in the low light. With a smirk, Boba thrusts them back in, then out—setting a steady pace that he refuses to stray from. It leaves you just hovering along the sharp edge of oblivion, the catch of his knuckles and calloused skin along your walls pure torture. Stars—he’s going to be the death of you—

Your hips arch into him, trying to urge him to go faster. Instead, he slowly retracts his fingers and removes his mouth. You gasp in frustration as your cunt clenches around thin air. It almost hurts. 

“I told you to be patient,” Boba chuckles, massaging a warm palm along the outside of your thigh. “You’re behaving like a brat.” 

“I’m—I—I’m sorry—“ You wheeze, trying to rope in some self control that fled a long time ago. Your wits are scrapped thin as you throw your hand against the back of the throne. You don’t care that he’s rendered you to a begging mess, your words slurred and hardly understandable. You're so close to diving off the edge—so near to those plush lips and weathered hands that’ll surely become your salvation. "Please! P-please—I need..." 

You're babbling as he drags his fingertips over your thigh, skims over your cunt, and traces a pattern into your opposite thigh. "Boba. Fuck. I pro-promise to be better—I can do it. Please—“

He complies.

Two fingers are thrust up into your dripping cunt, curving so deliciously into something that feels like unrefined plasma bolts. His mouth dips down and sucks on your clit and with a few more curls and thrusts of his fingers inside of your clenching walls, your body seizes up tight. 

You're flying off you’re high, faster than a fucking speeder with tampered gears. You cum onto his tongue with a strangled cry of his name, sparks of blurry white lining the edges of your vision as your back arches. Boba keeps licking you through your orgasm, even as you buck and squirm in his iron hold. Stars implode behind your eyelids as heat, hotter than wildfire and jetfuel spreads from your center all the way up your stomach and down to your toes. You're shaking, lucid enough to hear Boba, and feel the vibration of his groan, as he licks up the flood of your wetness over his tongue. 

Your brain swims in hazy bliss and fuzzy pleasure as you float back to reality. He's still curling his fingers into your pussy and it hurts. You're too sensitive. Your nerves are rubbed raw and you're still throbbing—but you're too fucked out and still riding the waves of your orgasm to push him away. He takes this opportunity to tilt his fingers into your cunt faster, suckle and lave his tongue over your clit that burns from overstimulation—somehow you're back at the very edge again.

It's sharper than a blade against flesh. Your thighs quiver around him as he twists his fingers inside you and bumps agains that tiny, little patch of nerves that wrenches a cry from you. Your orgasm floods through you veins, bursting and rupturing every cell in your being. This one is blistering—charrs all the way to the fucking bone. Your core pulses around Boba’s fingers, fucking you through it until those burning waves of release eventually cease into a dull throb. You whimper and push at his forehead because he's still licking at your cunt. You panic a bit—fucking hell, he’s gonna make you cry—but he pulls away, his mouth and chin wet with your slick. 

Boba leaves absolutely no time to completely float down from your high—you squeak as his hands shoot up to grab at your hips, wrenching you off the throne and all but throwing you onto the same floor he kneels on. You flash him a dopey grin, letting your legs fall open for his enjoyment—

“Such a filthy princess,” he chuckles, extending a hand to cover your knee, bending it further out to expose more of your flushed cunt. “You taste sweeter than star cherries.”

You preen at his compliment. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

It earns you an amused huff. Boba scrapes the hand resting on your knee to the apex of your legs, thumb and forefinger gently parting your delicate, slick folds. You bite back a keening whine, utterly exposed to him as he slips the hood back from the throbbing knot of nerves at the top of your slit. Too raw. Your pussy clenches involuntarily, causing everything from your toes to your hips stiffen. Boba hums in delight at his handiwork. 

“Stars, Boba—please…” You beg, voice breathy and soft like whips of spider silk. Boba makes a sound that oozes with smug pleasure, teasing your sore clit with unadulterated glee. “Please,” you hear yourself whimper over your pounding pulse, shifting in his grasp and praying he’ll put an end to this sickly sweet torture.

“Pretty little thing, begging for my cock…” He rasps, darkly threaded sin and the husky scrape of the gray sea licking up jagged, black rock. You’re certain he could talk you into unraveling at the seams, untouched and putty in his hands for him to mold and shape. Boba’s other hand sweeps up your sternum, his fingertips dancing along the mythosaur pendant coiled around your neck. He then curls his thick fingers around the base of your throat and ever so lightly squeezes. “Poor baby—all worked up after a few days…I’ll fix that for you.” 

Before you can fully process, he grabs the swell of your hip and flips you onto your belly. The air from your lungs is knocked out of your chest, the abrasive sandstone bitting into the points of your elbows and patches of your skin and no doubt leaving behind irritated scrapes. You hear the shuffle of fabric and then Boba suddenly seizes your hips and arches them into his crotch, grinding the deliciously hard length of his cock through your wet folds. Throbbing and just as desperate as you are, Boba refrains from flinging you into another bout of teasing. He slicks himself up with your arousal and drags the tip of himself to your clenching center and sinks that first, glorious inch inside of you. 

With a low groan, Boba pushes in deeper, watching your tight hold flutter and accommodate his thick length. It’s the same as before during that night in the cantina—dreadfully full and all but bursting at the seems. The gentle rocks of his hips and gravelly praise eventually allow him to finally bottom out, his sharp hipbones resting against the swell of your ass as you shudder and groan. Fuck—

You can feel him in your fucking guts. 

Boba grants you a brief moment to settle and then—it’s catastrophic. 

Your jaw drops in a silent scream when he pulls back, all the way to the tip and slams back into your tight heat. Boba’s hand tangles into your hair at the nape of your neck and and pulls, forcing your back into a sharp arch. The action leaves more of you open, somehow pressing in even further. He hits so deeply within you—stars it feels like he’s splitting you open and laying you bare. 

His dark chuckle resonates above you—a bit breathy as he tames his own frazzled nerves. “Shit—that feels good. Doesn’t it, princess?”

Your incoherent babble makes him laugh as he gives your hair a playful tug, all the while he never stops thrusting in and out of you. You wiggle your hips, the slight shift makes it ache, and the sharp downward thrusts put delirious pressure on that patch of nerves that renders you dizzy. Every muscle in your body feels like it’s a tightly spooled cable, fraying and an inch away from snapping. Your gasping breaths pitch into airy squeaks as the fist twisted in your hair tightens, tugging your head back just a bit more.

Boba lurches foreword, the nip of beskar a frigid shock to the bare skin of your back when he lays over you, his elbows caging you in close. His head drops onto your shoulder blade, pressing sloppy kisses over the arch of your throat and slope of your shoulder—without warning he sinks his teeth into the juncture of your neck. Maker save you—

The feral drag of Boba’s teeth digging into your sensitive flesh skin makes you squeeze around his cock—Boba answers with a soft growl that vibrates against the skin of your shoulder. Somehow he fucks into you harder, his pace becoming brutal. Your nails scrabble against the floor, searching for some sort of anchor as you wail under him.

It’s too much—fuck, you’re gonna implode. Pinned between the rough sandstone and the hand in in your hair, mixed with the sharp pain of his teeth marring your skin—you loose it. Sensing your peaking orgasm, Boba’s fingers wedge between your legs to toy with your clit. He rubs quick circles with two fingers as he purrs words of filth into your ear—how good his pretty thing is for him, how well you came for him, how tight you are. 

“There you go, little one,” Boba says, his words like a tendril of dark smoke. “Cum for your king.”   

His efforts are quickly rewarded as you shudder and lock up harder than durasteel beneath him. A blinding surge of vicious heat, knocks you clean off your feet and steals away all the air left in your lungs as your nails dig into the sandstone—trembling and grappling blindly for a foothold in your own head. The cold chest plate is a much needed anchor for the overwhelming intensity that threatens to drown you and bury you six fix under.   

He bites down again when he cums, his hips digging into you with short, rough jabs. “Fuck—you take me so well.” You squirm, feeling his cock throb and spill into you, making the mess between your legs smear over your thighs. His thrusts stutter to a stop as he sighs deeply and pulls out, a mixture of his cum and your arousal spilling onto the floor. Boba huffs above you, drags a finger through your swollen folds and pushes it back inside of you. “Good girl.”

You shiver—reduced to a useless puddle with no intent from moving off the floor as Boba’s weight moves away. You could sleep here—that’s something completely plausible you think. Nice, warm dirt—

Boba purrs your name—the sound piquing your interest enough that you overcome the heaviness that’s settled in your body and move your head. He’s returned to his throne, cheeks a bit flushed and his chest rising and falling to recover precious air. You watch as Boba peels off his cuirass with practiced ease, and lays it with care onto the floor. He murmurs your name a second time and pats his lap, coaxing you off the floor. 

You happily slither onto his thighs, exhausted and all too eager to be swept up into the warmth of his arms. He grunts as you tuck your head under his chin and cuddle into his chest, relishing the rough scrape of his palms folding over your shoulder and the outside of your thigh. His soft breaths tickle the top of your head paired with the quiet, but steady rhythm of his heart beating beneath your fingertips and ear pressed onto his sternum. Your eyes flutter shut and though a hushed silence falls over the room, there’s nothing to be said. 

Boba tucks his nose into your hair and you smile, the slow speak of your heart unraveling into a lush garden of something new and brittle—like flakes of frost in the early morning sun. He’s more bruise than bleed nowadays—a wound closed then reopened and he promises nothing of a future beyond what you have in these moments. And yet—

You wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. 

taglist: @goldafterglow @djxrxn @velvetmel0n @steeeeeeeviebb      @stargazingcarol @ohiobluetip @anxiety-riddled-mando @absurdthirst @thesoftdumbass @huliabitch @max--phillips @silverfish-kingdom @krissology @teaofpeach @pettyprocrastination @nelba​ @beskars​ @jango-fettish​ @corrupt-fvcker​ @cobbvader​ @maybege​ @clonewarslover55​ @auty-ren​ @legally-a-bastard​ @bigdickdindjarin​ @thesparkleslugs​ @cryptid-candy​ @mandowhorian​ @pascaliprincess​ @mitchi-c​

[jimlingss]

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.

[the-modernmary]

to be enough || aaron hotchner x gn!reader

Summary: During a movie night with your boyfriend Aaron, you accidentally stumbled onto his old wedding video, and it makes you wonder if you could ever compete with his first love?

A/N: This was an anonymous request, thank you SO MUCH for sending this in!! It’s my first request and it was so much fun to write!! I love soft Hotch so, so much. I’m sorry this took so long to get out. I was sick on and off for like two weeks straight, it was a whole thing. I hope you like this!!

masterlist || read on ao3

“I’ll make popcorn and open the wine, you pick the movie. We’ll meet back on the couch in ten minutes,” Aaron said quickly as he pressed a kiss to your cheek before making his way to his kitchen.

  You giggled at your boyfriend’s eagerness as soon as he opened the door to his apartment. Truth be told, you couldn’t blame him, though. It was rare that the two of you ever really got the chance to just hang out at his apartment. Whenever Aaron was home, he liked to spend as much free time with his son as possible, which you completely understood. So between spending time with Jack and Aaron being away on cases, you lived for these small moments of alone time and domesticity. 

  “You might regret letting me pick the movie, my love,” you called to him jokingly as you sat down in front of his TV, looking for where the remote was hiding. “I am very loyal to my early 2000’s chick flicks.”

  The sound of Aaron’s laughter floating through his apartment made your heart swell. He had never been the tough, FBI unit chief around you, but he was also rarely so carefree and light. There was always a shield around him, especially with the way he would carefully choose his words so as to not give away too much of himself. He was always so guarded and unwavering.

  Aaron poked his head out of the kitchen, hair falling in his eyes. “In the interest of honesty, I’m fully planning on moving this to the bedroom before we even get halfway through the movie,” he admitted, his voice carrying even over the sound of popcorn in the microwave.

You giggled again and shook your head fondly, unable to stop the smile spread across your face at his words. Seeing him be so playful was like a gift — always a surprise, but never unwelcome. You lived for those small glimpses of the man you knew he was.

  Aaron went back to choosing the perfect movie night wine and you settled on the couch, turning on the TV and ready to pick out the goofiest, most feel-good movie you could find. Before you could pull Netflix up, however, the DVD that was already in the television began playing.

  The film was grainy and the camera work was shaky at best, so you weren’t sure exactly what you were watching at first. There was a church in the background and men dressed in nice suits. Kids dressed in their Sunday best ran around in the grass. The camera panned over to a couple who were clearly getting married, going by the big white dress the woman was wearing.

  The camera zoomed in on the couple and your heart dropped to your stomach, because there, right in the center of the screen was Aaron. It was a much younger version of him, of course, probably law school, but it was definitely him. 

  Oh god, this was his wedding video. Which meant that the beautiful, blushing bride wrapped in his arms and making him throw his head back in laughter was Haley.

  Aaron had told you about Haley and everything that had happened between the two of them right up to her murder pretty early on in your relationship with him, but then it was never really mentioned again. But you had heard the whispers on nights out with his team, listened to them all gossip amongst themselves about how “I never thought Hotch was ever going to move on?” .

  Despite every logical bone in your body screaming at you to change the film before Aaron came back into the living room, you couldn’t help but watch in morbid fascination. The Aaron on the screen was so different from the man you had come to love.

  You watched as the film Aaron spun Haley in circles and peppered her entire face in kisses. The entire time, they never once stopped touching each other, even if it was something as simple as holding each other’s hands. Aaron kept glancing over at Haley with the biggest heart eyes you had ever seen, and it was nothing like the way Aaron had ever looked at you. Even when the couple was supposed to be paying attention to the people giving speeches around them, Haley and Aaron kept sneaking glances at each other, mouthing “I love you” like it was the only thing they could think to say.

  Aaron looked so happy and so free and it was so unlike the man in the other room. In the year and a half you had been dating him, you had never seen Aaron with a smile so big. He never gave you PDA so freely, and it wasn’t something you realized you even wanted until you saw him do it with somebody else. Suddenly, you wanted to feel young and reckless and dizzy in love the way he looked back in the film.

  It was unfair to ask him to live every day with you feeling like it was his wedding day, and you knew it. Still, something stirred inside of you that made you crave for Aaron to look at you like that, even just once.

  What you had with Aaron now was safe and a certifiable “adult” relationship. Not to say it wasn’t nice, and there was plenty of passion and fun in it. All of your friends constantly expressed how envious they were that you had found somebody who was so stable yet still unpredictable and could sweep you off your feet with romantic dates under the stars. Being with Aaron felt like home for you, and you had always thought that he felt the same, although now you weren’t sure. It had never occurred to you that Aaron may not have ever really gotten over his first love.

  The microwave beeped, signaling that the popcorn was done and that Aaron would be back in the living room at any second, and you quickly switched the TV to Netflix, clicking whatever movie popped up first, not even bothering to look at the title. 

  Just in time, too, because not long after, Aaron made his way over to the couch, precariously carrying a bowl of popcorn, two wine glasses, and a bottle of a sweet red wine that had become a go-to for you both. He generally preferred red wine, but you hated the dryness of it and basically only drank sweet, dessert wines, so when the two of you found this one, it had seemed like fate. Most of your relationship with him felt like fate, honestly.

  You forced yourself not to think about the fact that Aaron was happily drinking white wine in the wedding video.

  “Either the definition of ‘chick flick’ has changed drastically,” Aaron started, plopping down next to you. “Or Mad Max is very different from what I remember.”

  “I decided to change it up, put on a movie neither of us will be invested in,” you lied, desperately fighting to keep your voice even. “That way we can move right into the bedroom portion of the night.”

  “I like the way you think, sweetheart,” he chuckled, dropping a kiss to the top of your head. His thigh was pressed against yours, but even then, he felt a million miles away from you.

  It was unfair to get so worked up over this whole wedding video thing, and you knew that. His time with Haley had ended long before he had even met you, and logically, you knew that people could fall in love multiple times. Still, that didn’t quell the anxiety that was bubbling in your stomach, making you queasy.

  Why was he even watching that video, anyway? Did he often sit right there on the very couch you were cuddling with him on and rewatch the happiest day of his life? After a date with you, did he ever come home conflicted about his own emotions and feeling guilty for moving on, and go down memory lane to remind himself who his real true love was? 

  You kept thinking about how giddy he had looked in that video, and how easy it had seemed for him to be with her. And Haley… God, how could you compete?

  She was stunning, no doubt about it, with her blonde hair and bright eyes that shined, even through shitty 90’s video camera quality. The pink on her soft-looking lips only seemed to make Aaron want to kiss them more and more, maybe to see if he could smudge her lipstick. It never once budged, though, because of course it didn’t. She seemed too perfect to have faded lipstick on her wedding day. She had floated across the makeshift dance floor, like a fucking Disney princess leaving a trail of fairy dust and sunshine everywhere she went. Everything about her seemed soft and kind and good, all things you had never once associated with yourself.

  It was no surprise that Aaron had decided he was going to marry her from the first time he saw her, as he had said in his vows. She was everything you could have ever wanted to be, and clearly, she was everything Aaron had ever wanted.

  Aaron’s voice snapped you out of your rapid descent into crippling insecurity. “I can hear you thinking from here, honey.”

  You took a long sip of your wine, avoiding his piercing gaze. “I’m just concentrating on the movie,” you lied.

  “The movie you picked specifically so that we didn’t have to pay attention?” he retorted, eyebrows raised. Really, you should have known better than to try and give him such a blatant lie. Aaron reached over you to grab the remote and paused the movie, placing his hand lightly on your knee. “What’s going on?”

  How could you even explain what you were feeling? It definitely wasn’t jealousy, although you almost wished it was. At least with jealousy, you could push it to the side as an awful, gross feeling that comes from years of internalized misogyny and being told that other women are inherently competition for the attention of men. You could deal with that feeling.

  But it wasn’t that at all. Despite Aaron’s obvious devotion to her, you found it hard (and a little twisted, if you were being completely honest) to be jealous of a woman who was violently murdered in her own home in front of her young child. Besides, jealousy would imply that you and Haley were on somewhat equal ground, which you so clearly weren’t. 

  Haley was his high school sweetheart, the love of his life, the woman he had chosen to have children with, and you…

  Well, at one point you thought you could have been that, too, but now you were faced with the fear that you were nothing more than a person to fill the hole in his heart that Haley had left. Even worse, however, was the sinking feeling that you weren’t sure if you were ever going to be enough to fill it completely. 

  “It’s stupid,” you stuttered out, avoiding Aaron’s eyes, which were so full of concern. That was the worst part. It would be one thing if Aaron didn’t love you, but he did love you. Just not in the way he loved her. “Don’t worry about me.”

  “It’s not stupid if it’s bothering you.”

  “I—” You cut yourself off with a sigh and shifted on the couch so that you were facing him. “Am I enough for you?”

  Aaron looked about as taken aback by your question as you felt. You hadn’t meant to burst through the gate with that particular insecurity.

  “Are you enough for me?” he repeated slowly, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, like the question didn’t make any sense. In all honesty, it probably didn’t. “If you mean ‘am I happy with you’, then yes. Incredibly. Happier than I’ve been in a long time.”

  That should have made you feel better, but it wasn’t the answer you were looking for. You absentmindedly picked at a loose thread on your sweater. “I saw your wedding video,” you admitted shamefully. It felt like you were a little kid getting caught with your hand in the cookie jar. “And, I don’t know… You looked so happy and so… alive with her. That’s a once-in-a-lifetime love, Aaron. I’m never going to be able to be that for you.”

  Aaron’s frown deepened, and for a moment you were worried that he was going to get angry at you for watching the video. Maybe you had tainted that one happy memory for him. But the lines on his face softened just a bit and he covered your hand with both of his.

  “Have you always felt like this?” he asked cautiously, attempting to keep all emotion off his face. “Like you’re not… enough?”

  You shrugged. “Sometimes. If I think about it too much. Especially when we first started dating. But never this intense. I guess since I had only heard stories of her, it was almost like she didn’t exist? But now that I’ve seen her and how you looked at her… I love you so much and I want you to be happy, but I’m scared I can’t be that for you. I’m sorry if I’ve crossed a line, but this has been eating me up from the inside for a while now and I—”

  “Hey, hey, hey,” Aaron cut you off mid-ramble, and you took a shuddering breath. Guilt was written all over him, which made you want to crawl into a hole and never be heard from again. “Have I done anything to make you think I’m unhappy?”

  “No, of course not! You’ve been nothing but wonderful. But I’m not Haley. I can’t make you as happy as she made you. And maybe this is selfish of me, but it hurts to know that you don’t love me the way you loved her.”

  Aaron’s frown deepened, but he still held on tightly to your hand. “I didn’t think you would want me to,” he said, and now it was your turn to be confused.

  You could practically see the gears turning in Aaron’s mind as he tried to find the right words to verbalize the floodgate of emotions that had just opened. Being vulnerable and open about his feelings wasn’t something he was very comfortable with, and it definitely didn't come easy for him. The fact that he was trying and willing gave you some comfort.

  “What I mean to say is…” he backtracked. “You’re right. You’re not Haley and the way I loved her is different from the way I love you. I love you differently because you’re different. And I’m different now, too. But different doesn’t mean less, and it never has. I would never want you to think that you’re just some consolation prize.”

  He was looking at you with such intensity and sincerity that you could have cried. “It’s just that when I realized you had been rewatching your wedding, I kept thinking that maybe she was your one love,” you explained nervously. “I don’t know what that leaves me.”

  Aaron took your hand that he was holding and moved it so that it rested on his chest and you could feel his heartbeat. “My love isn’t finite. I’m sorry if I made you feel that way.”

  You melted into his touch, and it was like the sun came peeking through the storm clouds. He didn’t have the exact same expression that 25-year-old him did on the wedding video, but it was something close. Maybe even something more. It was warm and inviting and felt like coming home after a long day. 

  “You’ve been nothing but the picture-perfect boyfriend,” you assured. “This is all me and my own insecurities. I saw that you had been watching the video and I just… spiraled, I guess.”

  Aaron mindlessly rubbed his thumb back and forth on your hand. “I should probably explain why I was watching it, then.”

  “God, no, you don’t owe me any explanations for what you—”

  “I was showing Jack,” Aaron interrupted, his voice soft. “He doesn’t remember her that much, and he definitely doesn’t remember when we were married. Most of his memories are of fighting or divorced parents. I wanted to show him that his parents loved each other.”

  Your face went hot as embarrassment spread through you. “Wow, that makes perfect sense and I feel like an idiot,” you breathed. “I’m sorry.”

  Aaron pressed a chaste kiss to your lips as he stood up from the couch. “You’re not an idiot, and you have nothing to be sorry for,” he promised. “Come on, let’s get changed into something a little nicer.”

  You looked down in confusion as your movie night outfit. “Why?”

  A mischievous glint flashed in Aaron’s eyes as he bent down and gave you another kiss, one much less chaste than the one before. “Because,” he mumbled against your lips. “I’m going to take you on a date and show you just how much I love you.”

[queenofbaws]

Haven't seen any chrashley at all the last couple of weekends, so how do you feel about fixing that little travesty for me?

six(ish) sentence weekend ;P

The ground was cold and unforgiving beneath him as he lay there, nothing but one arm thrown over his face to protect his vulnerable, pasty flesh from the icy sting of snow. “Go on without me,” he panted, his entire body heaving with the effort of each breath. “One of us should keep on living.”

And Ashley, arms folded across her chest, simply glanced from one side of the trail to the other to make sure no one was witnessing...whatever this was. “So you’re...dying,” she said slowly, one corner of her lips beginning to turn up. “Is that what’s happening?”

Instead of answering straight away, Chris lifted the arm he’d been covering his face with and gestured his hand abruptly down towards himself. “Obviously I’m dying, Ash. Look at me.”

She looked up and down the path again. “Oookay.” Then, more resolutely, “Okay.” Using her boots, she cleared a small circle of snow, pushing it all to the side until she had a nice little patch of dead, frozen grass to sit down on. “Mind if I watch?”

“Who am I to shame you for being a voyeur? I won’t yuck your yums. Besides...” With another dramatic sigh, Chris let his arm drop over his face again, the snow still falling all around them. “The vultures are circling, Ash. It won’t be long now.”

It occurred to her that she could make fun of him - point out, if nothing else, that they’d maybe been walking for ten minutes, and while Blackwood was notoriously hilly, the trail had laid flat the whole way through - but that didn’t feel like the right course of action. No, not here. Not now. Not when there were other arrows in her quiver.

“Do you...want me to double back?” she asked, her smile only spreading as she watched him moan and groan and laze in the snow. “I could go grab Sam. Or Mike. I’m pretty sure I heard him say something earlier about being CPR-certified, so he could probably help you out.”

“Mouth-to-mouth with Mike Munroe. What a dream.”

“So that’s a no, then?”

“That’s a no. I-I-I appreciate the sentiment, but I think we should just let nature run its course here. Let Death come for me with his cold, icy hand outstretched. I - ” As soon as he said it, his entire body went stiff, and Ashley preemptively rolled her eyes. “Oh God. Oh God, how could I miss it? That’s what this has been all along - the cold, unforgiving touch of Death. He’s here, Ash. He’s here for me.”

“Chris.”

He whispered the next part with such drama that it was all she could do not to snort aloud: “The pale rider.”

“Okay,” she sighed, seeing now what her only course of action must be. “You know what, Chris? You just lie there nice and still and let Death come take you.”

“That’s the plan.”

“But I,” she continued, rolling the snowball as silently as she could, relying on the arm over his eyes blocking her from his view, “Am gonna finish the walk to the guest cabin, actually, since we’re like. Five minutes away.���

Chris let out a wistful groan. “Promise me something, Ashley? Promise me...promise me that you’ll think of me when you get there. Promise that there will come a moment where you’ll curl up in front of the fireplace and think to yourself: Boy I sure miss Chris. He was so handsome. And funny. Mostly funny. It’s such a shame that he had to be cut down in the prime of his yo...OOOOUUU MONSTER!”

The pitch of his whining took an abrupt shift towards shrill as she shoved the snowball down the front of his shirt, but too bad, so sad - she was already up on her feet, half-jogging, half-skipping down the path again. Laughing the whole way, of course. Laughing her ass off, in fact.