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thewriteadviceforwriters · 2 months

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25 Prose Tips For Writers 🖋️✨ Part 1

Hey there!📚✨

As writers, we all know that feeling when we read a sentence so beautifully crafted that it takes our breath away. We pause, reread it, and marvel at how the author managed to string those words together in such a captivating way. Well, today I'm going to unpack a few secrets to creating that same magic in your own writing. These same tips I use in my writing.

But before I begin, please remember that writing is an art form, and like any art, it's subjective. What sounds beautiful to one person might not resonate with another. The tips I'm about to share are meant to be tools in your writer's toolkit, not rigid rules. Feel free to experiment, play around, and find what works best for your unique voice and style.

Power of Rhythm 🎵

One of the most overlooked aspects of beautiful prose is rhythm. Just like music, writing has a flow and cadence that can make it pleasing to the ear (or mind's ear, in this case). Here are some ways to incorporate rhythm into your writing:

a) Vary your sentence length: Mix short, punchy sentences with longer, flowing ones. This creates a natural ebb and flow that keeps your reader engaged.

Example: "The sun set. Darkness crept in, wrapping the world in its velvet embrace. Stars winked to life, one by one, until the sky was a glittering tapestry of light."

b) Use repetition strategically: Repeating words or phrases can create a hypnotic effect and emphasize important points.

Example: "She walked through the forest, through the shadows, through the whispers of ancient trees. Through it all, she walked with purpose."

c) Pay attention to the stressed syllables: In English, we naturally stress certain syllables in words. Try to end important sentences with stressed syllables for a stronger impact.

Example: "Her heart raced as she approached the door." (Stronger ending) vs. "She approached the door as her heart raced." (Weaker ending)

Paint with Words 🎨

Beautiful prose often creates vivid imagery in the reader's mind. Here are some techniques to help you paint with words:

a) Use specific, concrete details: Instead of general descriptions, zoom in on particular details that bring a scene to life.

Example: Instead of: "The room was messy." Try: "Crumpled papers overflowed from the waste bin, books lay spine-up on every surface, and a half-eaten sandwich peeked out from under a stack of wrinkled clothes."

b) Appeal to all five senses: Don't just describe what things look like. Include smells, sounds, textures, and tastes to create a fully immersive experience.

Example: "The market bustled with life. Colorful fruits glistened in the morning sun, their sweet aroma mingling with the earthy scent of fresh herbs. Vendors called out their wares in sing-song voices, while customers haggled in animated tones. Sarah's fingers brushed against the rough burlap sacks of grain as she passed, and she could almost taste the tang of ripe oranges on her tongue."

c) Use unexpected comparisons: Fresh similes and metaphors can breathe new life into descriptions.

Example: Instead of: "The old man was very thin." Try: "The old man was a whisper of his former self, as if life had slowly erased him, leaving behind only the faintest outline."

Choose Your Words Wisely 📚

Every word in your prose should earn its place. Here are some tips for selecting the right words:

a) Embrace strong verbs: Replace weak verb + adverb combinations with single, powerful verbs.

Example: Instead of: "She walked quickly to the store." Try: "She hurried to the store." or "She dashed to the store."

b) Be specific: Use precise nouns instead of general ones.

Example: Instead of: "She picked up the flower." Try: "She plucked the daisy."

c) Avoid clichés: Clichés can make your writing feel stale. Try to find fresh ways to express common ideas.

Example: Instead of: "It was raining cats and dogs." Try: "The rain fell in sheets, transforming the streets into rushing rivers."

Play with Sound 🎶

The sound of words can contribute greatly to the beauty of your prose. Here are some techniques to make your writing more musical:

a) Alliteration: Repeating initial consonant sounds can create a pleasing effect.

Example: "She sells seashells by the seashore."

b) Assonance: Repeating vowel sounds can add a subtle musicality to your prose.

Example: "The light of the bright sky might ignite a fight."

c) Onomatopoeia: Using words that sound like what they describe can make your writing more immersive.

Example: "The bees buzzed and hummed as they flitted from flower to flower."

Art of Sentence Structure 🏗️

How you structure your sentences can greatly affect the flow and impact of your prose. Here are some tips:

a) Use parallel structure: When listing items or actions, keep the grammatical structure consistent.

Example: "She came, she saw, she conquered."

b) Try periodic sentences: Build suspense by putting the main clause at the end of the sentence.

Example: "Through storm and strife, across oceans and continents, despite all odds and obstacles, they persevered."

c) Experiment with sentence fragments: While not grammatically correct, sentence fragments can be powerful when used intentionally for emphasis or style.

Example: "She stood at the edge of the cliff. Heart racing. Palms sweating. Ready to jump."

Power of White Space ⬜

Sometimes, what you don't say is just as important as what you do. Use paragraph breaks and short sentences to create pauses and emphasize important moments.

Example: "He opened the letter with trembling hands.

Inside, a single word.

'Yes.'"

Read Your Work Aloud 🗣️

One of the best ways to polish your prose is to read it aloud. This helps you catch awkward phrasing, repetitive words, and rhythm issues that you might miss when reading silently.

Edit Ruthlessly ✂️

Beautiful prose often comes from rigorous editing. Don't be afraid to cut words, sentences, or even entire paragraphs if they don't serve the overall beauty and effectiveness of your writing.

Study the Masters 📖

Please! Read widely and pay attention to how your favorite authors craft their prose. Analyze sentences you find particularly beautiful and try to understand what makes them work.

Practice, Practice, Practice 💪

Like any skill, writing beautiful prose takes practice. Set aside time to experiment with different techniques and styles. Try writing exercises focused on specific aspects of prose, like describing a scene using only sound words, or rewriting a simple sentence in ten different ways.

Remember, that developing your prose style is a journey, not a destination. It's okay if your first draft isn't perfect – that's what editing is for! The most important thing is to keep writing, keep experimenting, and keep finding joy in the process.

Here are a few more unique tips to help you on your prose-perfecting journey:

Create a Word Bank 🏦

Keep a notebook or digital file where you collect beautiful words, phrases, or sentences you come across in your reading. This can be a great resource when you're looking for inspiration or the perfect word to complete a sentence.

Use the "Rule of Three" 3️⃣

There's something inherently satisfying about groups of three. Use this to your advantage in your writing, whether it's in listing items, repeating phrases, or structuring your paragraphs.

Example: "The old house groaned, creaked, and whispered its secrets to the night."

Power of Silence 🤫

Sometimes, the most powerful prose comes from what's left unsaid. Use implication and subtext to add depth to your writing.

Example: Instead of: "She was heartbroken when he left." Try: "She stared at his empty chair across the breakfast table, the untouched coffee growing cold."

Play with Perspective 👁️

Experiment with different points of view to find the most impactful way to tell your story. Sometimes, an unexpected perspective can make your prose truly memorable.

Example: Instead of describing a bustling city from a human perspective, try describing it from the point of view of a bird soaring overhead, or a coin passed from hand to hand.

Use Punctuation Creatively 🖋️

While it's important to use punctuation correctly, don't be afraid to bend the rules a little for stylistic effect. Em dashes, ellipses, and even unconventional use of periods can add rhythm and emphasis to your prose.

Example: "She hesitated—heart pounding, palms sweating—then knocked on the door."

Create Contrast 🌓

Juxtapose different elements in your writing to create interest and emphasis. This can be in terms of tone, pacing, or even the literal elements you're describing.

Example: "The delicate butterfly alighted on the rusted barrel of the abandoned tank."

Use Synesthesia 🌈

Synesthesia is a condition where one sensory experience triggers another. While not everyone experiences this, using synesthetic descriptions in your writing can create vivid and unique imagery.

Example: "The violin's melody tasted like honey on her tongue."

Experiment with Sentence Diagrams 📊

Remember those sentence diagrams from school? Try diagramming some of your favorite sentences from literature. This can give you insight into how complex sentences are structured and help you craft your own.

Create a Sensory Tour 🚶‍♀️

When describing a setting, try taking your reader on a sensory tour. Move from one sense to another, creating a full, immersive experience.

Example: "The old bookstore welcomed her with the musty scent of aging paper. Dust motes danced in the shafts of sunlight piercing the high windows. Her fingers trailed over the cracked leather spines as she moved deeper into the stacks, the floorboards creaking a greeting beneath her feet. In the distance, she could hear the soft ticking of an ancient clock and taste the faint bitterness of old coffee in the air."

Use Active Voice (Most of the Time) 🏃‍♂️

While passive voice has its place, active voice generally creates more dynamic and engaging prose. Compare these two sentences:

Passive: "The ball was thrown by the boy." Active: "The boy threw the ball."

Magic of Ordinary Moments ✨

Sometimes, the most beautiful prose comes from describing everyday occurrences in a new light. Challenge yourself to find beauty and meaning in the mundane.

Example: "The kettle's whistle pierced the quiet morning, a clarion call heralding the day's first cup of possibility."

Play with Time ⏳

Experiment with how you present the passage of time in your prose. You can stretch a moment out over several paragraphs or compress years into a single sentence.

Example: "In that heartbeat between his question and her answer, universes were born and died, civilizations rose and fell, and their entire future hung in the balance."

Use Anaphora for Emphasis 🔁

Anaphora is the repetition of a word or phrase at the beginning of successive clauses or sentences. It can create a powerful rhythm and emphasize key points.

Example: "She was the sunrise after the longest night. She was the first bloom of spring after a harsh winter. She was the cool breeze on a sweltering summer day. She was hope personified, walking among us."

Create Word Pictures 🖼️

Try to create images that linger in the reader's mind long after they've finished reading. These don't have to be elaborate – sometimes a simple, unexpected combination of words can be incredibly powerful.

Example: "Her laughter was a flock of birds taking flight."

Use Rhetorical Devices 🎭

Familiarize yourself with rhetorical devices like chiasmus, antithesis, and oxymoron. These can add depth and interest to your prose.

Example of chiasmus: "Ask not what your country can do for you – ask what you can do for your country." - John F. Kennedy

Even the most accomplished authors continue to hone their craft with each new piece they write. Don't be discouraged if your first attempts don't sound exactly like you imagined – keep practicing, keep experimenting, and most importantly, keep writing.

Your unique voice and perspective are what will ultimately make your prose beautiful. These techniques are simply tools to help you express that voice more effectively. Use them, adapt them, or discard them as you see fit. The most important thing is to write in a way that feels authentic to you and brings you joy.

Happy writing, everyone! 🖋️💖📚 - Rin T

Hey fellow writers! I'm super excited to share that I've just launched a Tumblr community. I'm inviting all of you to join my community. All you have to do is fill out this Google form, and I'll personally send you an invitation to join the Write Right Society on Tumblr! Can't wait to see your posts!

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yandere-daydreams · 8 months

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Title: Escapism.

Commissioned by the very lovely @twst-ophelia.

Pairing: Yandere!Dorm Leaders x Reader (TWST).

Word Count: 4.0k.

TW: Fem!Reader, Non/Con, Dub/Con, Prolonged Imprisonment, Physical/Psychological Abuse, Slight Marking, Disassociation, and Possessive Behavior.

The mirror would be ready to use, by now.

Really, that’d been your first mistake – forgetting what you’d learned during your first months in this strange new place, having enough faith in the friends you’d made and your own middling abilities to tell anyone and everyone you could find that you were finally going home. You’d been over-eager, blinded by joy, and within a week of Crowly admitting that he’d found a way to return you to your own world using the Magic Mirror, it’d been common knowledge across all of Twisted Wonderland that it’d only be a few more weeks before you were returned to your own world. Ace teased you for being so eager to drop out halfway through your third year and Grim stuck to your side with twice his usual clinginess, and despite the bittersweetness of knowing you’d likely never be able to come back, you were happy. You were alright with leaving them, so long as it meant you could go home.

And you did leave them, in a way. If you looked at it from a certain angle.

You just didn’t get to go home.

There was a wet, slick noise, then a pang of pure agony racing from your cunt to your core. Involuntarily, you jerked away from the painful sensation, but it was an effort made in vain. The heavy arm wrapped around your waist only coiled tighter, your back soon drawn flush against a broad chest. Leona’s tail swatted contentedly at the down-stuffed mattress as he let out a low, airy chuckle. “Not gonna get away that easily,” he muttered, his breath ghosting over the shell of your ear. “Remember what happened last time you tried to act-up? I don’t think the basement’s gotten any warmer.”

Basement. Calling it a basement would be like calling him a housecat. You’d been locked in that dark, frigid dungeon of a cellar for days before Azul – because he was the one you scratched, the one who got to decide how cruel your punishment was going to be – let you out, and even then, it’d taken another week of huddling by barely-smoldering fireplaces and wrapping yourself in any shred of fabric you could find to shake the chill that’d lodged itself underneath your skin. You stopped trying to lash out at them, after that. As much as their so-call ‘affection’ scared you, their anger scared you that much more.

You couldn’t be sure how they’d gotten their hands on a place like this – ancient and only a step above decrepit. Their means weren’t exactly limited, not with a prince and the heir to a fortune that might as well have made him royalty funding their little venture, but it was still hard to imagine the people you’d gone to school with keeping you locked inside of an abandoned castle, surrounded only by more woodland than you could ever hope to walk through. It might’ve been more enjoyable (or, bearable, at least) if your captors had taken a more absentee approach, if they’d given you time to adjust to being in the middle of a never-ending forest with only stone walls and dust-covered furniture for company, but no, at least one of them always seemed to be at no more than arm’s length, there to remind you exactly why you’d been relegated to the role of princess, trapped in her tower. You’d never been able to call any of them your friends, and yet, the betrayal still stung.

“Would you keep your mouth shut?” Vil mumbled, with a particularly sharp movement of his wrist. The heel of his palm ground into your clit, and against your better judgement, you withered into Leona – the sound of your pulse beating in your ears deafening, but still not enough to mask the deep, self-satisfied purr rising from his chest. “You’re frightening the poor thing. Look at her eyes – they’re practically glazed over.”

“Is she scared, or just bored half-to-death by your shitty excuse for a handjob?” He bowed his head, nipping playfully at the corner of your jaw. Of all your captors, he was the most fond of marking what he considered to be his property – even more so if he had a captive audience. “If I was the one between her legs, she’d be feelin’ too good to think about anything else. She’d already be fucked good n’ dumb.”

“That’s not—” The air caught in your throat as Vil spread his fingers apart, but you fought to go one. “I don’t feel anything when you—”

Vil pulled out of you entirely, only for his hand to come down on your pussy with a harsh, slick crack. You couldn’t swallow back your pained cry, couldn’t stop yourself from shrinking further into Leona. “No lying, now, darling. You know how easy it is to hurt his feelings.” He paused, then glanced over his shoulders. Blearily, your attention drifted to the doorway of your bedroom – to Riddle, standing stiffly on the other side other side of the threshold. You stiffened, but Vil didn’t seem surprised. “Going to watch today, Rosehearts?”

Obviously. As complicit as they all seemed with your imprisonment, there were a few – Riddle, Idia, Azul – that withheld from treating your prolonged abuse like a group project. You’d been surprised, at first, that Vil wasn’t a part of that collective, but his tendency towards exhibitionism made sense. He couldn’t love what he couldn’t flaunt, even if his audience was limited to a handful of former classmates.

“O-of course not,” Riddle stuttered out, predictably. His pale face was tinted a nearly violent shade of red. “I just wanted to make sure you two weren’t hurting her.”

You felt Leona’s grin against your throat. “Hear that, pretty girl? He thinks we’d hurt you.” The space Vil left vacant was quickly filled – three of his calloused fingers soon filling your drenched pussy. You clenched your eyes shut, grit your teeth, but that did little to stop him from burrowing his claws into your side and tearing a little, cracked whimper through your sealed lips. “Don’t see him doing much to stop us, though.”

Vil only offered an unimpressed shake of his head, but Riddle straightened. “Are you implying that I couldn’t—”

“I’m saying that you won’t.” Leona cut him off swiftly, the edge in his tone sharped and playful. “Not if you want the next turn.”

For a moment, Riddle didn’t say anything, didn’t do anything.

Then, with a pointed glare, he turned on his heel and abandoned your bedroom altogether, likely dedicating himself to finding another part of this terrible castle to wait Leona out in.

As soon as his footsteps faded out of earshot, Leona’s teeth were buried in the curve of your throat – drawing blood in an instant.

Out of all your captors, it was Kalim who’d disappointed you the most.

You hadn’t expected this from the others, but in hindsight, you wouldn’t put it above them, either. Azul had never been able to draw a line between what he wanted and what he could have, Riddle had never been able to keep his base impulses at bay for very long, and Leona… well, Leona couldn’t be bothered to pretend he was interested in things like your ‘autonomy’ or ‘independence’. Kalim, though – he’d always been nice to you. Not overly kind, but nice, and in a place like NRC, that was something you’d been able to appreciate.

It almost didn’t make sense to see him in a place like this, to connect his presence here with the looming fact of your continual imprisonment. It didn’t make sense that the boy who’d once thrown a parade to celebrate you finally accepting an invitation to one of his banquets would be resting his hands on your shoulders, his eyes fixed on your reflection in a pearl-lined vanity as he pulled what felt like the hundredth gem-studded necklace into place at the base of your throat. You didn’t need jewelry. They rarely gave you anything to wear outside of loose-fitting, sheer dresses and the occasional piece of lingerie, but Kalim would’ve plucked the moon from the sky if it meant he could give it to you in a velvet-lined box. That was what he’d told you, at least, the first time you’d turned him down.

Actually, maybe you didn’t deserve to feign surprise. They’d all tried to do it the right way before their graduations, whether it was Vil beckoning you to sit on his lap during a dorm leader meeting or Riddle turning a dozen shades of pink as he asked if you’d care to attend an Unbirthday Party as his guest, sometime. You’d turned them all down, batting Leona’s hand away before it could settle on your shoulder, telling Azul you wouldn’t trust him as a business partner, let alone a boyfriend. Between school and a new apocalypse-scenario every other week, you never had the time (let alone the energy or desire) to date, as idiotic as it sounded to suggest that any of this could’ve started with a handful of schoolyard crushes. Maybe, if you’d given them a chance to see that it wouldn’t have worked out on their own terms, it wouldn’t have come to this. Maybe, you would’ve gotten to go home.

Or, maybe, you just would’ve been snatched up before that thread of hope could ever be dangled in front of you. Either way, a preferable alternative.

“The sapphires were a better fit,” Azul chimed in as Kalim pulled the next necklace into place – a loose riviere studded with rubies. It was the fifth of as many variants, only differentiated by the color of the jewel. Kalim claimed that he’d only meant to get you one, but ever the glutton, he hadn’t been able to choose. “Red is such a garish color. Our little princess deserves to feel as royal as we treat her, doesn’t she?”

If Kalim noticed the barb, he didn’t seem to mind. “I think you look beautiful in red,” he said, leaning down to push a kiss into your temple. His smile was as bright as it’d ever been, and you hated him that much more for it. “Then again, you look beautiful in everything. Why don’t you keep them all?”

You opened your mouth, ready to tell him where he could shove his jewelry, but you were cut off by the shutter of a camera, the hint of a flash in your peripheral. You glanced towards Azul, who only shrugged in response., sinking further into his armchair “For Idia. He’s going to be tied up with a research project for another week or so, and for whatever reason, it’s fallen on my shoulders to make sure that he doesn’t completely succumb to his self-pity and throw the gates of Tartarus open.” He thought, for a moment. “For a second time, I mean.”

You couldn’t be sure why you said it. It was an instinct, a knee-jerk reaction to grab the first blade you saw and twist it. Idia was, by far, the most distant of your captors, and when he did show his face, he barely spoke and never touched you. Even in a castle of rapists and kidnappers, he’d found a way to make himself an outsider.

“Azul?” You made a point of keeping your eyes on your reflection as you went on. “Could you tell Idia I want to see him again? When he has time, I mean.”

There was a beat of silence, then another.

Finally, Kalim forced out an only partially strained laugh, squeezing your shoulders with just a little too much force. “Is something wrong? If you want to ask for something, you don’t have to wait for Idia.”

You didn’t bother trying to respond to him. “Please, Azul?”

From the corner of your eye, you watched him glance between you and Kalim. Eventually, he let out an airy sigh and nodded. “Of course, sweetheart. Although, I do have to wonder what you’re getting up to.”

Your only answer came in the form of a tight smile, a slight shrug. Kalim didn’t waste time taking up the next necklace: a choker of braided strands of pure, glittering gold. This time, he fastened it tightly enough to bruise.

You almost felt bad for Idia, when you let yourself think about what you were doing.

Almost.

The bare skin of his chest was warm under your palm, the flames of his hair tinted a deep pink - a color you might’ve found charming, in any other situation. He was beneath you, currently, his face half-buried in a pillow while you rolled your hips idly against his, your pace slow and careless. He wasn’t as authoritative as Leona, as demanding as Riddle, and you liked that about him. But, his submissiveness meant you had to do most of the work, which you liked less.

At least he tried to pretend that he didn’t like it. Bias caused conflict, and his occasional encounters with the others wilted before shriveling into complete nonexistence shortly after you declared him your unlikely favorite. Even now, he kept his eyes clenched shut, his bottom lip caught between his pointed teeth as your pussy clenched around him. You’d gone numb to pleasure in the first weeks of your captivity, but any amount of physical contact seemed to overwhelm him. It might’ve been refreshing, if you hadn’t been so, so exhausted.

Gradually, your movements slowed, your body stilling on top of his. A second passed before he opened one of his eyes, his kiss-swollen lips quirking downward in mixed disappointment and frustration. “W-Why did you stop?”

With an exaggerated sigh, you collapsed onto him, slotting your chest against his and propping your chin on his collarbone. “I never made it to graduate,” you said, absentmindedly, relying on the haze of lust to hide just how flat your voice was. “Never got to say goodbye to anyone, either, but that was never going to happen. The other are too mean to me for that.”

His expression took on a somber lull. It might’ve been more believable if you hadn’t been able to feel his cock twitching inside of you. “I… I’m sorry. I wanted to wait, but Azul said— and Leona—”

“I know, I know.” You kissed his cheek, then the corner of his mouth. “It’s not your fault. I just—”

You cut yourself off with another sigh, just as unbelievable as the first. Thankfully, Idia was eager to take the bait. “Whatever it is, I can do it for you. I’d do anything for you.” His shaking hands found their way to your waist. “I love you.”

“I want to see Ramshackle again,” you said, without hesitation. Immediately, you felt him stiffen against you, and let your tone drag into something desperate, something pleading. “Just this once. I won’t even go inside, and Night Raven’s on break, right now. No one’s going to be on campus.” You paused, pecked the corner of his lips. “Please, Idia. Nobody else has to know.”

He still looked skeptical, but he was going to break your heart, he wasn’t going to do it while his cock was still pulsing inside of you. After only a moment of hesitation, he let out a shallow breath and nodded hastily. “One trip. And the other never find out.”

Instantly, you brightened, beaming as you pulled him into a deep, lasting kiss – a proper kiss, this time, something you’d never willingly imitated with any of your captors. He would know that. He wasn’t the most domineering, but if the hidden cameras dotted across your bedroom were anything to go by, he had his own kind of competitive streak.

A hitched moan reverberated against your mouth. With your arms still wrapped around his neck, your chest still pressed into his, he started to move on his own – his fingers digging into your hips as he thrust into you from below. His pace was unsteady, his rhythm nonexistent, but your clit scraped against the flattened plane of his pubic bone and however meager it might’ve been, there was just enough stimulation to melt into. Vaguely, you were aware of a distant whimpering, of Idia’s face buried in the crook of your neck, but you let it fade into the background – into the constant fog of static that’d been cast over your conscious mind since you woke up in this terrible place.

When you felt his teeth scrape over the curve of your throat, it was all you could do to close your eyes and think of home.

“It’s a pretty basic teleportation scheme,” he’d explained, as he led you through the castle’s entryway after pulling you out of your bed in the middle of the night. The winter air cut through your thin dress without mercy, but you’d fought not to shiver, not to give him a reason to second-guess if he should be doing this. Right now, he was convinced he loved you more than he feared letting you get away, and you couldn’t do anything to break that delusion. “Ortho handled most of the hardware, but he was following my designs. The NRC waypoint was supposed to be a limited-time mechanic, but I never cut it out of the system. It should still work – for a couple trips, at least.”

You’d let him ramble about how many hours it’d taken to put together, nodded enthusiastically as he described all the effort he’d poured into ruining your life. He kept his hand locked around yours as he led you onto a shining, steel platform, only letting go to punch the coordinates into his tablet. There was a flash of light, a slight buzzing in your ears, and then, you were standing in front of the gates to Night Raven College, already open and waiting for your arrival.

You didn’t wait for Idia to move, to say anything. Rather, you let the gem shard (pilfered from one of Kalim’s more recent attempts to win back your attention; the jewel in its entirety had been larger than your balled fist) that you’d stowed away in your sleeve fall into your hand and stabbed the jagged end into his back. You didn’t wait to see if the wound took before breaking into a sprint towards the Hall of Mirrors.

You’d be able to see, later on, that it was far from the best idea you’d ever had. There was a good chance Crowley abandoned any work he might’ve started as soon as you went missing, if he really had found a way to send you hope at all. The injury you’d dealt to Idia was far from fatal, and you’d be in for more than just a few days in the cellar if they caught you, but the desire to get out of here, to go home drowned out your better judgement – leaving your tired mind empty and your body dependent on pure, unadulterated desperation as you ran towards the familiar, pitch-black dome on the outskirts of campus. Your skirt snagged on roots and twigs, your bare feet numb and aching in-turns, but you didn’t dare to slow down, to look behind you. By the time you reached the Hall of Mirrors, your throat was dry, your heart beating in your ears. Thankfully, the door had been left unlocked, and you shouldered your way inside.

The Magic Mirror stood, dark and stoic, in the center of the room. You allowed yourself a single breath of relief, a moment to let the past few months— no, the past three years of your life melt away before moving toward it.

You made it all of two, three steps before something sprung from the darkness and wrapped around your ankle – cutting into your flesh and, with a sudden jerk, dragging you to the floor. You stifled a scream, reflexively moving to tear at your new restraints, but froze when you saw exactly what you were caught in.

A thick braid of vines wrapped around your leg – except they weren’t vines, not really.

They were briars.

Rows upon rows of hooked thorns were embedded into the skin of your calf, drawing blood wherever they made contact. The pain was instant, searing, but you didn’t care – tearing at your bondage even as the thorns bit into your hands, as the rope of briars drew that much tighter. Tears blurred your vision, and so distracted by your own misery and panic, you almost didn’t notice the sound of clipped heels against marble floors, the dark shadow that soon blocked out what little light you had. You didn’t have to look at him. You already knew who it was.

In the end, though, you weren’t given much of a choice.

You really should’ve been more used to that, by now.

A gloved hand caught you by the chin, forcing you to tilt your head back and meet Malleus’ expectant, prying stare. He took a moment to evaluate your ragged dress, the bruising and love-bites painted down your neck before a small smile came to rest over his lips; the barest hint of pointed teeth catching in the moonlight. “And to think, I thought it was only nostalgia drawing me back to this lonely place.” He spared a glance toward the mirror. “And I suppose you plan to use that ancient thing to return to your own world?”

“Malleus,” you gasped his name, hoping that would be enough to communicate the depths of your despair. “I don’t have a lot of time, I— They’re coming for me, and—” You cut yourself off, swallowing harshly. “I want to go home.”

His only response came in the form of a low hum, dull and dismissive. All it took was a snap of his fingers, a certain glint in his narrowed eyes, and the mirror shattered into more pieces than you could ever hope to put back together.

This time, you couldn’t swallow back the ragged sob that tore past your lips, the pathetic noise echoing off the stone walls. You tried to crawl towards the fractured pieces, but Malleus kneeled to your height, letting out a patronizing coo as he wrapped an arm around your midriff, pulling you against his chest and suffocating any possible hope you might’ve had for escape. Distantly, you were aware of a rush of footsteps, of a collar (as heavy as it was useless) snapping shut around your neck, but Malleus didn’t falter. With your limp body in his arms, he pushed himself to his feet, turning to face your captors where they’d clustered in the entryway.

It was Leona who spoke first, predictably. He never could let anyone else be the center of attention. “What do you want, Draconia?”

Malleus, on the other hand, was in no rush, letting his gaze fall back to you. “I was surprised, when I heard of her disappearance. I know how fragile mortal lives could be, but I thought, surely, a human who’d befriended so many powerful mages ought to be a little more enduring.”

After he finished, silence hung heavy in the air. Vil summoned his spell book, and Kalim’s fists clenched at his sides, his jealousy threatening to outweigh his pacifistic nature. None of it would’ve made a difference. If Malleus wanted to, he could reduce them all to ash with little more than a wayward thought. If Malleus wanted to, he wouldn’t need five other conspirators to have you at his mercy.

And yet, he only let out a breath of a laugh, holding you that much closer to his chest. “Then again, if I’d known those powerful mages would struggle to keep watch of such a precious item, I might’ve been less generous.”

“Get to the point.”

This time, he chose to obey. “It seems,” he started, bowing his head and letting his lips brush against your cheek. “As if you’re having trouble keeping this little one in line.”

His grin was wider and more satisfied than you’d ever seen it, before. Looking at him, you could only wonder how you have bothered trying to survive in a world that so clearly wasn’t meant for you.

“Would you consider making use of another pair of hands?”

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theplotmage · 12 days

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How to Get Started with Worldbuilding for Fantasy Writers

Hey fellow writers!

Worldbuilding can feel like a Herculean task, but it’s one of the most rewarding parts of creating a fantasy novel. If you're getting stuck, Here are some tips that have helped me, and I hope they’ll help you too!

Start with the Basics

Geography

- Map out the physical layout of your world. Think about continents, countries, cities, and natural features like mountains, rivers, and forests.

Climate and Ecosystems

- What are the climate zones and ecosystems like? How do they shape the lives of your inhabitants?

Create a History

Origins

- Dive into how your world came into existence. Are there creation myths or ancient civilizations that set the stage?

Major Events

- Outline key historical events. Wars, alliances, discoveries, and disasters can add so much depth.

Develop Cultures and Societies

Cultures

- Craft diverse cultures with unique customs, traditions, and values. What do they wear? What do they eat? How do they express themselves through art?

Social Structure

- Define the social hierarchy. Who holds power? What are the roles of different classes or groups?

Establish Magic and Technology

Magic System

- Set the rules and limitations of magic. Who can use it? How does it work? What are its costs and consequences?

Technology

- Decide on the level of technological advancement. Is your world medieval with swords and castles, or does it have steampunk elements?

Design Political and Economic Systems

Governments

- Create various forms of government. Are there kingdoms, republics, or empires? How do they interact?

Economy

- Define the economic systems. What are the main industries and trade routes? How do people earn a living?

Build Religions and Beliefs

Religions

- Develop religions and belief systems. Who are the gods or deities? What are the rituals and holy sites?

Myths and Legends

- Craft myths and legends that influence the culture and behavior of your characters.

Craft Unique Flora and Fauna

Creatures

- Invent unique creatures that inhabit your world. Consider their habitats, behaviors, and interactions with humans.

Plants

- Design plants with special properties. Are there magical herbs or dangerous plants?

Incorporate Conflict and Tension

Internal Conflicts

- Think about internal conflicts within societies, such as class struggles, political intrigue, or religious disputes.

External Conflicts

- Consider external threats like invading armies, natural disasters, or magical catastrophes.

Use Maps and Visual Aids

Maps

- Create maps to visualize your world. This helps you keep track of locations and distances.

Visual References

- Use images or sketches to inspire and flesh out your world.

Stay Consistent

Consistency

- Keep track of the details to maintain consistency. Use a worldbuilding bible or document to record important information.

Feedback

- Share your world with others and get feedback. Sometimes fresh eyes can spot inconsistencies or offer new ideas.

Let Your Characters Explore

Character Perspective

- Develop your world through the eyes of your characters. How do they interact with their environment? What do they know or believe about their world?

Be Flexible

Adapt and Evolve

- Be open to changing aspects of your world as your story develops. Sometimes the best ideas come during the writing process.

Worldbuilding is an ongoing journey, and it’s okay to refine and expand your world as you go. If you’re stuck or need specific advice, drop a comment or message me. Happy worldbuilding! 🌍✨

Feel free to share your own tips and experiences below. Let’s build some amazing worlds together! 💫

By the way, if you’re looking for a tool to help you keep track of all your worldbuilding details, check out my worldbuilding bible on Etsy! It’s designed to help you organize every aspect of your world, from geography and cultures to magic systems and conflicts.

I poured my heart into creating this, and I hope it inspires you as much as it has inspired me. Writing is such a beautiful journey, and having a structured way to keep your ideas organized can make all the difference. So go ahead, dive deep into your imagination, and let your creativity flow. You’ve got this! 💖📝

Happy writing, friends!

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miabebe · 2 months

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Camp Seventeen: Prologue

Seventeen as Greek Demigods Series

Pairing - Reader x ot13 (Yes, you read that right, I am insane and you are allowed to scream at me)

Word count - 2.7k

Genre - Greek Demigod AU! We’ve mainly got crack cause all of them are idiots, and obviously smut because they are thirteen lonely, horny men afterall (aka reverse harem) also throwing in some fluff and angst as well because I gotta let emotions run high for plot sake :)

A/n - Hello hello, this is a new seventeen series I am starting and boy oh boy is it gonna be a wild ride! A special thanks to @okiedokrie @whipped-for-kpop-fics @ourdawnishotterthanourday @multi-kpop-fanfics for all their amazing help and bearing with me through the discussions for this, I’m so grateful to you guys :)

I will have a taglist for this so please comment/ send an ask to be added!

“Over here!”

Wincing, you looked up from the disgusting heap of mud your foot had neatly landed in, ignoring the way your little piglet was ecstatically rolling in the same filth.

The man before you looked equally disturbed as he walked over, pulling out a bottle of water apparently from up his ass because you didn’t remember him holding it a second ago.

Sighing a thank you, you took it, emptying it onto your boots before grabbing your gremlin of a pet from its happy place, resulting in a series of loud, incessant whining.

In all that noise, you heard your shoe savior take your name with a voice that was as pretty as him.

“I’m Jisoo.” He put out his hand. “You can call me Joshua.”

You nodded, unable to shake his hand thanks to the problem trashing in your arms earning Joshua’s amusement.

“And who is this?”

“Natalie.” You muttered as he raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “Natalie Porkman.”

Joshua burst out laughing, looking away as he covered up a snort, shoulders shaking. You smiled, truly taking in his beautiful features for the first time. Cute.

“This way.” He pointed at absolutely nothing yet you followed this complete stranger, survival skills be damned. “We’ve got a half mile trek ahead of us but it gets a little confusing from here so I thought I’d come pick you up.”

Cute and kind.

You filed it away under ‘to-learn-more-about-when-I-fiigure-out-what-the-fuck-is-going-on-in-my-life.’

The two of you walked side by side, footfall softly echoing in the lush green forest around. Though silence was all you had been craving after the last few days you’ve had, that did not seem like an option since one, Natalie hadn’t stopped whimpering in fifteen minutes and two, Joshua kept glancing at you like you were some sort of ancient artifact.

Not the good kinds.

“What is it?” You said finally, starting a conversation you didn’t want to have. “Never seen a mess of a human before?”

“Never such an old one.” Well, at least you got ancient right. Joshua quickly corrected himself. “I mean I’ve never heard of a demigod surviving undetected in the mortal world for this long.”

Oh but you got ‘human’ wrong. You forgot. Normalcy was never your defining factor but at least now you knew exactly what kind of freak you were.

Almost.

“I wouldn’t call it surviving, more like ‘barely made it’.”

“But you made it.”

“At the cost of what?” You sighed. “Everything is much more complicated now.”

“Don’t worry.” He stopped at a large boulder at the base of an abnormally large tree in the middle of seemingly nowhere. “We’ll all help you.”

“All?”

He nodded, looking at you over his shoulder. “All.”

Your eyes followed his hand as he placed it in the middle of the rock, and after all that you’ve learnt in the last few days, you’re not sure why you were so shocked when it rolled away at his touch. You expected it to lead you to a dark, suspicious cave but a bright light poured out, making you momentarily lose both your vision and your pet who jumped out of your arms and ran into the illuminance, squealing in delight.

“Welcome to Camp Seventeen.”

Joshua grinned, pointing at the scene before him and your jaw dropped in awe.

It was a large opening in the middle of a forest that looked very different from the one you were just trudging through. There were hills on one side, a large lake shimmering far away, fire torches lit everywhere, little cottages scattered here and there, strange symbols topping them all off. Looking at everything curiously, you walked down the cobbled path, only just noticing the two men who were standing at the end of it, both incredibly beautiful. The blonde one was playing with Natalie and the redhead was staring at you with his arms crossed, expression smug.

“Would you look at that, the prodigal babygirl is here at last.”

You frowned, taking an almost immediate dislike despite his pretty, pretty face.

“Jeonghan, play nice.” Joshua muttered, walking over to him.

“Don't patronise me Aphrodite's son, she was supposed to be here at 4-”

“It’s 4:10.”

“-yesterday.” He turned back to you. “You’re a day and 10 minutes late.”

“Well you’re not the one who’s relocating your whole life.” You spat back at him. “I had things to take care of - my dorms, my bills-”

“So much that you missed the meeting with your lawyer.”

“I did ask to reschedule. It’s not my fault he’s an unsympathetic prick.”

“Careful sweetheart.” Jeonghan cocked his head at you. “I’m unforgiving too.”

You stared at him for a whole maddening minute, realizing why his voice seemed so familiar. You had heard him on the phone over the last few days.

“You’re my lawyer.”

“And the best in the city.” Joshua interjected, sensing the rising tension. “Children of Athena tend to be big brained.”

“And hot headed apparently.”

“Natalie says ‘not more than you’.”

All three of you turned to the only other presence there, the man who was carrying your pig, silent as a statue all this while.

“Jun, son of demeter.” Joshua introduced, pulling him ahead. “He’s a natural with anything, well... natural? Mostly plants but he also happens to talk to animals.”

“Domestic ones.” Jun mumbled. “Hansol is better with the wild.”

You greeted him awkwardly, half smiling to be polite and half frowning at the way Natalie was looking up at him with literal heart eyes.

“How did you come across a fledgling?”

“A what now?”

Jun picked your pig up by the arms like a little baby. “She says she’s 10 years old, yet is the size of a toddler. Have you never wondered why your pig never grew?”

“I uh….assumed it was just the kind of breed that didn’t?”

“What an intellectual.” Jeonghan looked at you with faux amazement making you roll your eyes.

Jun, however, still hadn’t met your eye. “Fledglings are creatures of Olympus. Time moves differently there so they don’t really grow like the others in the human world. In that sense, technically, she’s still only a few months old-”

“So you’re telling me this thing, which has lived with me for 10 odd years, is….magical?”

Jun shook his head as Joshua spoke up, clarifying.

“Not magical, that’s a whole different branch of powers and abilities. Your pig is just….not a part of the human world.”

“You betrayer.” You narrowed your eyes at what you thought was your loyal companion. “We were friends. How could I not know?”

Natalie whined sadly in response earning a smile from Jun and of course, yet another snarky comment from Jeonghan. “I don’t speak pig and even I know she said you’re not very bright.”

“Understanding your native language is not particularly intelligent, you swine.” You glared at him, receiving a smirk in response.

“Ten minutes in camp and you’ve already made Jun’s ears red and picked a fight with Han.” You turned to see three men walk up to you, the one in the middle with an amused look and a powerful aura. “You’re gonna fit in quite well Newbie.”

“Seungcheol, son of Zeus and leader of the camp.” Joshua whispered as everyone bowed to him. You imitated them quickly.

“This is Seokmin, Son of Poseidon and Minghao, Son of Ares.” Seungcheol added, pulling out his armor as one of them shot you a cheery smile and the other continued to look at you cynically. “They are our training specialists. Seokmin should help you with your overall fitness and Minghao will train you for combat.”

“C-combat?” You stuttered looking around. “You mean like war?”

“The world of demigods is new to you, don’t try to understand everything in one day.” The Son of Ares sheathed his twin blades behind his back. “Take a few days to adjust to the camp first. You can start training next week.”

You nodded, a little thankful that despite his cold exterior, he seemed to be surprisingly sympathetic of your situation.

“He’s right.” Seokmin chimed. “You should settle here first, not to forget, deal with that lawsuit before you focus on everything else.”

You turned to Jeonghan expecting yet another snarky remark but he looked worried, lost in thought.

When you turned back to Seokmin though, you bit back a scream, your face inches away from a man who appeared soundlessly and seemingly from thin air.

He gave you a cheeky grin with a tilt of the head, “I’m Chan aka Dino, Son of Hermes, Camp cutie, camp hottie and camp leader- ow!”

He rubbed the back of his head vigorously when a small rock hit him with a dull thud. You looked over his shoulder to see Seungcheol aim another one with just a flick of the wrist.

This one Dino skillfully dodged, stepping away from you as Joshua laughed, “Chan is the camp messenger. He’s in charge of all sorts of delivery and transportation.”

“You were the one who picked up my things.” The realisation hit you at last as Dino nodded, pointing at a pile of your stacked bags and trunks beside the entrance.

“Guilty as charged.”

“You were supposed to arrive over an hour ago.” Seokmin narrowed his eyes at the younger man.

“I got held up with some uh distractions.” Chan laughed nervously, scratching the back of his ear. “I didn’t know where to keep her things though, considering you know, she doesn’t have a place yet.”

Seungcheol turned to you to clear your confusion. “Everyone on camp has their own residence but you came on too short a notice so we’re yet to build one of you. We could have housed you in the guest cabin except it was recently damaged in a fight,” He glared at all the boys around him. “So that would not be feasible. Until your own place is not ready you can stay at mine - it is the biggest so you should be comfortable.”

You pursed your lips unsure about his offer. Did you think you would be unsafe in his presence? No absolutely not, the opposite in fact.

You wondered how long you could hold yourself back before unsuspectingly jumping this man and his huge biceps and beefy thighs and manly voice-

“She’s thirsty.”

Taken aback you looked around, searching for the owner of the voice who unnecessarily accurately voiced your thoughts. Instead, you heard the snap of a twig and a low growling sound from the area the forest got more dense. You narrowed your eyes, trying to peer through the overgrown wilderness only to meet a pair of menacing red orbs.

Your adrenaline response barely had the time to kick in before ten, no fifteen, wild hounds ran out of their hiding place towards you, making you scream and hide behind Joshua.

The boys laughed as the dogs circled around you and you gripped onto Joshua’s shoulders terrified.

“Stand back lads.” A silver haired man walked over with a golden haired one beside him, both with a bow and quiver strung over their shoulders. The dogs immediately ran over, aligning themselves in an obedient, straight line behind them.

“Hansol, Son of Artemis and Jihoon, Son of Apollo.” Joshua looked at you over his shoulder. “They are in charge of daytime border patrol. There are all sorts of wild animals out here, hence the hounds, for protection.” As you shuddered, Joshua looked around curiously. “The Son of Hades, is in charge of nighttime patrol. He should be somewhere around here…”

Your eyes widened as the water canteen hanging on Jihoon’s belt flew towards you on its own, making you almost claw Joshua’s arm.

“Wonwoo don’t scare her.” Joshua chastised laughing as you literally see a tall, lean man materialize out of thin air, the canteen in his hand and a smirk on his face. “How long have you been here?”

“The whole time.” He mumbled, handing you the water. “Jihoon said you were thirsty.”

“Not for water.” The blonde man whispered in a way only you could hear, looking entertained at how flushed you were. Did he actually read your mind?

Coming out of Joshua’s shadow, you grabbed the canteen before anyone else noticed, thanking Wonwoo with a hard smile. Tilting your head back you drank up, not noticing how all 10 eyes were intently fixed on you and your throat moving with each gulp. They all took a gulp of their own.

As you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, slowly looking around and noticing everyone’s gaze, the ground below began to shake, fazing no one but you.

Jeonghan pulled you out of the way of what seemed like a large mechanical bull charging towards you with an equally large man perched on top of it. A smaller man arrived right behind, riding a….. A leopard???

“You said you would win.” The muscled man slid off the mechanical creature, patting it. “My baby is faster.”

“I said a cheetah would win. My baby is a tiger.”

“It's a leopard.” You corrected, earning everyone's snickers and the not so threatening stare of its owner.

“It’s a big cat with an identity crisis.” Taking your hand in his, placing a soft kiss at the back of it, the muscle man gave you a fanged smile. “I’m Mingyu, Son of Hephaestus.”

The other man raised his hand. “Soonyoung, Son of Dionysis and that-” He turned to yet another one who was running over, looking frazzled.

“Seungkwan, Son of Hera, owner of a peacock that has yet again disappeared.” He bent over, grabbing his waist, panting and out of breath. “I don’t get why she keeps running away.”

“Maybe because you keep calling him a she.” Minghao nonchalantly glanced at his neatly filed nails.

“I can’t-” Seungkwan ran his fingers through his head, annoyed. “It’s confusing okay, who the fuck named him Patricia then?”

Behind you Jeonghan giggled.

“You coagulation of human evil,” Seungkwan threw his shoe, missing the target. “Now she- He won’t respond to any other name!”

The boys roared with laughter as Seungkwan unsuccessfully chased Jeonghan around, hands flailing everywhere.

Seungcheol walked over to you amidst all the mess, shooting you an understanding smile. “Your life has just undergone a major change, I get that it is intimidating but don’t worry. All thirteen of us are here to help you get through this.”

You nodded slowly, looking around at the boys, doing a quick, confirmatory headcount. “So there’s only thirteen of you?”

And why were all of them so gorgeous??

“Yeah, only.” Seungcheol chuckled, “Trust me thirteen is more than enough, I’ve got to run a very tight ship here.”

“I just assumed there would be seventeen people since, you know, Camp Seventeen.”

“The Oracle apparently told Woozi to name us Camp Seventeen.” He shrugged. “Not sure why.”

You hummed, as all of them gradually stopped behaving like toddlers and turned their attention to you.

“Wait,” The realization slowly dawned upon you. Actually, it hit you like a brick. “You’re all men.”

Seungcheol nodded carefully, like he didn’t know where you were going with this.

“Am I….Am I the only girl in the camp?”

Soft mutters went around as Seungcheol cleared his throat. “Yes and I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable but unfortunately, it was not a choice.”

“It’s not common for a girl to be assigned to an all boys camp,” Joshua stepped up. “But I believe since Jeonghan and Wonwoo are working on the lawsuit that landed you here, the authorities of Olympus must have thought it is better for you to be here.”

“But it’s not permanent.” Seungcheol added. “You can choose to change camps after Quest Season if you wish-”

“What is Quest season?”

Jeonghan let out a loud sigh. “You’ve been here for what, ten minutes? Don't overwork your brain. The world of demigods is complex, you’ll learn everything with time.”

“He’s right.” Seokmin leaned against the tree near him. “Why don’t we first move your things to Seungcheol’s cabin? We’ll let you get settled, then Joshua can show you around camp, walk you through the rules and assign a duty-”

“Except.” Soonyoung looked at you from bottom to top, like he was assessing you. “What kind of duty?”

“Exactly.” Mingyu threw his arm around his friend, his expression matching. “Daughter of Hestia, Goddess of Hearth and Home, what would you be good for in this camp?”

Minghao hummed, walking up to you, bending to meet your eyelevel. “Well, what can a woman be good for in a camp of thirteen men?”

A/n - next will be a detailed post about each member, their background and powers so it's less confusing for those who aren't so familiar with Greek mythology and the series will start after that so stay tuned!

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little-pondhead · 5 months

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Your Ancient History, Written In Wax

Danny knew he should have put better security around the Sarcophagus of Eternal Sleep. It wasn’t even Vlad who opened it this time! The fruitloop was too busy doing his actual mayor duties because for some godforsaken reason, the man got re-elected.

No, it wasn’t Vlad. And it wasn’t Fright Knight, either. Nor the Observants. Who opened the Sarcophagus, then? Danny didn’t have time to find out as Pariah Dark promptly tore open a hole in reality and started hunting Danny down.

The battle was longer this time. He didn’t have the Ecto-Skeleton, as that was the first thing Pariah had destroyed. The halfa had grown a lot over the past few years, and learned some new tricks, but apparently sleeping in a magic ghost box meant that Pariah had absorbed a lot of power. The bigger ghost acted like a one-man army!

Amity Park was caught in the middle of the battle, but the residents made sure it went no further than that. Vlad and the Fentons made a barrier around the town to keep the destruction from leaking. Sam, Tucker, and Dani did crowd control while Danny faced the king head-on.

Their battle shook the Zone and pulled them wildly between the mortal plane and the afterlife. Sometimes, residents noticed a blow from Pariah transported them to the age of the dinosaurs, and Phantom’s Wail brought them to an unknown future. Then they were in a desert. Then a blazing forest. Then underwater. It went on like that, but no one dared step foot outside of Amity. They couldn’t risk being left behind.

It took ages to beat him, but eventually, Danny stood above the old ghost king, encasing his symbols of power in ice so they couldn’t be used again. He refused to claim the title for himself. Tired as he was, Danny handed the objects off to Clockwork for safe keeping and started repairing the damage Pariah had done to the town. The tear he’d made was too big to fix, for now, so no one bothered. They just welcomed their new ghostly neighbors with open arms and worked together to restore Amity Park.

Finally, the day came to bring down the barrier. People were gathered around the giant device the Fentons had built to sustain it. Danny had brought Clockwork to Amity, to double check that they had returned to the right time and dimension.

Clockwork assured everyone that they were in the right spot, and only a small amount of time had passed, so the Fentons gave the signal to drop the shield.

Very quickly did they discover that something was wrong. The air smelled different. The noise of the nearby city, Elmerton, was louder and more chaotic. Something was there that wasn’t before, and it put everyone on edge.

Clockwork smiled, made a remark about the town fitting in better than before, and disappearing before Danny could catch him.

Frantic, Danny had a few of his ghost buds stay behind to protect the town while he investigated.

He flew far and wide, steadily growing horrified at the changes the world had undergone. Heroes, villains, rampant crime and alien invasions. The Earth was unrecognizable. There were people moving around the stars like it was second nature and others raising dead gods like the apocalypse was coming. Magic and ectoplasm was everywhere, rather than following the ley lines like they were supposed to.

Danny returned to Amity.

The fight with Pariah had taken them through space and time. Somewhere along the way, they had changed the course of history so badly that this now felt like an alien world.

How was he supposed to fix this?

In the Watchtower, The Flash was wrapping up monitor duty while Impulse buzzed around him, a little more jittery than usual. The boy was talking a mile a minute, when alarms started blaring an alarming green. Flash had never seen this alarm before, and its crackling whine was grating on his ears.

Flash returned to the monitor, frantically clicking around to find the issue, but nothing was popping up. No major disasters, no invasions, no declarations of war. Nothing! What was causing the alarm?

Impulse swore and zipped to a window, pressing his face against it and staring down at Earth. “Fuck! It’s today isn’t it? I forgot!”

“What’s today?” Flash asked. He shot off a text to Batman, asking if it was an error. The big Bat said it wasn’t, and that he would be there soon.

“The arrival of Amity Park. I learned about this in school; the alarm always gives me headaches.”

Flash turned to his grandson, getting his attention. “Bart,” he stressed. “What are you talking about?”

Impulse barely glanced over his shoulder. Now that Flash was facing him, he could see a strong glow coming from Earth. “The first villain, first anti-villain, and the first hero,” he said anxiously. “They all protect the town of the original metas. They’re all here.”

“Here? Now??”

“Yeah? They weren’t before, but they are now. The first hero said there was time stuff involved, which was what inspired me to start practicing time travel in the first place.”

“I’m not following.”

“It’s okay. We should probably go welcome them before they tear apart Illinois, though. The history I remember says that some of them freaked and destroyed a chunk of the Midwest during a fight with each other.”

“WHAT?”

#dpxdc #pondhead blurbs #liminal amity park #I’ve seen stuff like this in the mhaxdp fandom and I eat it up every time #basically the fight with Pariah caused the town to jump through time a little #and while they THOUGHT they were keeping everything in #shit leaked out and tainted those points in time #so technically #historically and genetically speaking #Amity Park is the origin point for the meta gene and Danny made history as the first hero #because Clockwork is a little shit #everyone embodies a basic ability and it has grown from there #the flash family are direct descendants of Dani (speed force Dani for the win)#Dash is the reason super strength exists #so on and so forth #go buck wild #bart learned about it briefly in history class in the 30th century #practically hero worships them #booster gold knows about them too but in contrast to Bart’s excitement #booster is fucking terrified because there was a period where Amity Park rebelled against the US government #and he’s from that specific time #he learned to fear phantom because he lived during that part while Bart is from farther in the future when those issues got resolved #guess who’s chosen to welcome the town? >:)#if you’re wondering what happened to the GIW #they turned into the branch Amanda Waller runs #Danny is the first hero #Vlad the first villain #and Dani the first anti hero #there’s an arc where Danny is trying to fix things but clockwork won’t let him into the timestream and all the heroes are horrified #because yeah Danny is the OG but if he goes back in time to fix his ‘mistake’ what will happen to them?

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thealtoduck · 11 months

Text

Sweet Juice

Clark Kent x Male Reader

Content: Greek Mythology AU

Warnings: Smut, Bottom!Reader, Top!Clark, semi-public sex, anal sex, unprotected sex, drunken sex, skinny dipping, spit as lube, missionary position…

Summary: You’re a member of Dionysus following and during a feast you meet a demigod son of Zeus, Clark, also known as the man of steel…

——

You were a lesser deity in a world filled with powerful gods, monsters and heroes. You were the son of the now famous naiad, Daphne. Unfortunately though your mother was no longer with you as she had been turned in to a laurel tree as a form of mercy.

It was considered mercy because the only other option she had was to be violated by Apollo, who was under the spell of Eros after an argument between the two. Apollo feeling bad about the whole ordeal apologised by finding you a place in the retinue of Dionysus and Ariadne.

You didn’t mind this as your duties were pretty much drink, dance, fuck, drink more and generally just to have a good time. It was just constant partying and celebration.

One night when the party had yet to start a visitor came for Dionysus. You were sat close to the god’s throne, you were petting one of his pet leopards when a strange man appeared and entered the god’s camp. He walked slowly towards the olympian. You noted his handsome appearance as he stopped in front of Dionysus.

”Lord Dionysus, you sent for me” the man said in a deep tone. ”I did” Dionysus confirmed before standing up saying loudly ”Everyone! Let me introduce to you to Clark, you may know him as the man of steel!… And also one of my younger half brothers”.

Dionysus followers broke out in cheers for the hero, who seemed slightly confused by the big welcoming. ”I’ve called him here to save us all from the cyclops that has been attacking in the night” Dionysus declared and everyone once again cheered.

”What?! You never told me of any cyclops?!” Clark asked agitated. ”Actually I didn’t tell you anything but you showed up anyway” Dionysus teased him. ”Why don’t you save them yourself?” Clark questioned. However Dionysus only responded with a simple ”Where’s the fun in that?”.

Clark looked irretated at Dionysus and said ”I will not be tricked in to fighting someone else’s battle”. Making the on looking crowd let out disappointed murmurs. Dionysus walked up to the hero and put a hand on his shoulder.

”Come on Clark, do us this favour and we’ll give you the biggest celebration you’ll experince in a life time, with the finest wine and feast, our best music and dancers and if you want you can take to bed anyone you fancy, we don’t judge” Dionysus offered.

Clark took a moment looking around at the crowd surrounding him until his eyes landed on you for a swift moment. He then turned back to Dionysus and said ”Very well, i shall do you this favour”. Once again the crowd including you broke out in cheers and applause for the demigod.

The very next day gifted Clark with a sword, armour and food by Dionysus as he and his followers saw off the hero on his way to save them from the threat of the cyclops.

I didn’t take long for Clark to return as he was back at the camp by next day. He came back in the afternoon covered from head to toe in dirt, dust and a little cyclops blood. Throwing the red painted sword by Dionysus feet.

”Well done” Dionysus complimented looking at the blood drenched sword. Dionysus then turned towards you ”Y/n, take our hero somewhere he can wash off” he commanded. ”Yes, lord Dionysus” you said with a quick bow. He then turned back to Clark and said ”When you return, we feast”.

You went and collected a basket with a bottle of scented oil, a strigil (a tool they used in ancient greece to wash themselves) and a new chiton. ”This way, my lord” you said to Clark and started guiding him through the forest. ”Please, just Clark is fine” he said humbly following you.

You guided him to a secluded pond. ”Impressive, how did you find this place so quickly?” Clark complimented. ”My mother was a naiad, it’s an instinct” you explained putting down the basket next to the pond.

”Would you like me to bring you anything else?” you asked Clark as he started undressing out of the dented armour and dirty chiton. ”You’ve already done enough for me, thank you” he said gentlemanly. Clark was now naked, revealing his muscled body and impressive manhood, which you tried not to look at.

He stepped down in the pond, the water reaching up to his hips. ”Why don’t you join me?” he suggested gesturing towards the water. ”I’d love too, but i have to help the others prepare everything for tonight” you said. ”Come on, only for a short time” Clark tempted. ”Okay” you said with a smile, taking off your chiton and sandals.

Clark watched your naked form with interest as you stepped down in to the water. ”See, it’s nice” Clark said starting to wash himself off using the scented oil you brought for him. You tried not to stare at his oiled up chest but you were 90% sure he caught you looking but he didn’t say anything, he only smirked.

You relaxed in the cool water for a while until you remembered you needed to get back to the others. You climbed out of the pond and started putting on your clothing once again. ”Thanks for the company, hope i’ll see you tonight” Clark said. ”Hope, i’ll see you too” you said and started walking through the forest back towards camp.

That night the music rang loudly through the forest as you celebrated the death of cyclops and your new hero, Clark. You drank and danced wildly with your friends. Some others were already passed out from drinking, some were gambling and playing games and one couple were fucking against a tree.

You saw Clark sitting on a pillow next to Dionysus talking, goblet in hand. You made your way over to the olympian and the demigod. ”Y/n” Dionysus exclaimed happily as he noted your presence. He patted a pillow next to him saying ”Come sit down”.

You took the offer sitting down next to the god, he made your empty goblet instantly refill and put an arm around you. ”I was just telling Clark of my inner circle” Dionysus revealed and continued ”Y/n, here you’ve met, he is my and Ariandne’s favourite attendant and friend” he said sweetly.

”Also he has a body as if sculpted by Pygmalion, carved and smoothed to absolute perfection. You should hope to have a look upon it someday” Dionysus said taking another sip from his goblet.

”Actually i already have” Clark stated boldly making Dionysus spill some wine on himself. ”Y/n, joined me for a swim in the pond” Clark explained making your cheeks heat up slightly. ”Is that so?” Dionysus questioned looking towards you.

”Well, i’ve got to go find Ariadne” Dionysus said getting up leaving you and Clark. ”Are you and Dionysus-?” Clark started but you cut him off saying ”No, he and Ariadne just have a very open relationship”. ”How has your night been?” you then questioned the hero.

”Enjoyable but i’ve never been much of a party person” he said then taking a sip from his cup. ”I get it, before i came here i wasn’t either” you told him and then got an idea. ”Wanna go for a walk for some peace and quiet?” you asked. ”Sure, i’d love too” Clark said and the two of you stood up and walked off in to the forest behind you bringing your goblets with you.

You walked and talked for a while, drinking until your goblets were didn’t have a single drop left in them. Dionysus must’ve brought out the strong stuff because you and Clark were stumbling around and slurring your speech, you were laughing loudly at each others stories, sitting very close together.

Finally the two of you ended up behind some bushes close by to the party. You started to passionately make out, you laying on your back in the soft grass and Clark on top of you. Clark tore open your chiton and undressed you, leaving your naked form beneath him.

He then took off his own clothes revealing his muscular body and his hard cock. Clark took his hand and brought it to your mouth, you sucked on his fingers to get them wet, then he brought his moist fingers to your enterance and started pushing finger inside you.

You let out a small gasp as Clark started to finger you open, he added another fiinger and then another until you were ready to take him. Clark spit in to his hand and rubbed it over his erect manhood.

”It’s time i claim my reward” Clark said spreading your legs, he lined himself up with you and started pushing his hard cock in to your warmth. Clark loved the seeing the face you made as his cock slowly filled you up.

”Fuck your so big” you hissed as the demigod was fully sheated deep inside you. He then slowy started moving pushing himself in and out of you as a wave of pleasure started washing over you.

Your legs were wrapped around Clark as he thrusted in to you. ”I’m gonna fuck your little nymph hole full with my seed” Clark groaned in to your ear and placed kisses all along your neck. The demigod started speeding up his thrusts.

”Clark, fuck yeah! Take me” you said in ecstasy grabbing at his back as he fucked your hole. Both of your bodies had started gleaming from sweat as he mounted you under the moonlight, as his reward for defeating the cyclops.

Clark’s thrusts became rougher as he wanted to take you like a real demigod would, he loved how your walls clenched around his thick cock. He brutally fucked you with all the strength of his godly heritage to bring you to your release.

You let out breathy moans as Clark pounded your gaping hole, thrusting against your prostate. You felt yourself getting close to your orgasm. You dug your nails in to the grass below as Clark’s cock made you see Mount Olympus.

”Clark, i’m gonna cum” you said panting heavily making Clark thrust deeper as he wanted to push you over the edge. Then your cock started spraying cum all over your and Clark’s stomachs. Clark’s own release was getting close.

”I’m gonna plant my seed deep inside you” Clark moaned and his rough thrusts became uneven and sloppy. Clark delivered one last deep stroke in to you and he erupted inside you, he flooding your insides with his cum.

Both of you panted heavily and Clark rolled over and layed next to you in the grass. ”You were amazing” Clark praised while softly stroking your cheek. The two of you then used your torn clothes as blankets as you cuddled close together and you both fell asleep under the starry sky.

#clark kent x male reader #clark kent x male!reader #superman x male reader #superman x male!reader #dc comics x male reader #dc x male reader #x male reader #male reader #x male!reader #justice league x male reader #clark kent x male reader smut #male reader smut #x male reader smut

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angelicblondie · 1 month

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what about luke castellan x ballerina!reader but she had to give up ballet when she went to camp and he like finds her dancing in the forest one night. maybe when he’s a little busy with like backstabbing everyone but yk🤷‍♀️

(like meet me in the pale moonlight or tomorrow never came coded like ughh😩😩)

wait...i adore this. as a dancer this made my heart actually jump for joy.

every night, luke was plagued with dreams. the not good kind, more specifically.

it started a few months ago. the deep ancient voice of a titan long imprisoned would echo through his mind, urging his darkest desires of revenge and shameful need for power to the forefront of his thoughts. he was angry, angry at the gods for ignoring him and all their other children. he wanted to stop this system, he was full of bitterness.

so the voice in his head was appealing. he knew that it probably wasn't morally good to listen to the evil titan kronos, but then again, if it all ended up with the system of the gods abolished, he could live with that.

but anyways, the point is, dreams invaded the peace luke found in his unconscious state, and sometimes, it was too much. sure, he agreed with the titan, but he wasn't ready to abandon home and betray his friends, not when they were the only ones who accepted him. he couldn't do that, no matter how much to words appealed to him.

so, when the hermes cabin felt suffocating, and his mind was reeling, late at night, luke would venture off into the woods.

luke felt at comfort with the odd eeriness that filled the late night air - he didn't jump or flinch at the sounds of leaves crunching or bushes rustling - he felt at peace with the scary.

that was, until he saw footsteps in the mud.

curious, luke followed the trail, until he reached an more open area of the forest, and he leaned up against a tree, taking in the sight in front of him with pure curiosity.

there you were, wearing grey sleep shorts, a black tank top, and a pink cardigan, dancing in the middle of this forest.

you seemed to be in your own world, sneakers planted in the ground as you did some simple plies, and luke watched, transfixed by the sight. your hair was tied up by a pink ribbon, and you had the most peaceful expression on your face, not one luke had ever seen before.

you were relatively new to camp, only having arrived in the past year. you were quickly claimed by your mother, aphrodite, and gained a fast group of friends and a positive reputation. luke and you hadn't talked much - sure, he gave you your tour, and the two of you had got on quite well, but once you got claimed, he didn't have much time to talk to you, given the rapid enthusiasm of your siblings.

he didn't know you were a dancer, a good one in fact. you elegantly pranced around, your feet moving quickly yet gracefully. luke was mesmerized - he had never really seen anything like it, like you. you seemed so free - so unburdened by the struggles of being a demi god. just you, alone (kind of?), dancing - luke guessed like every other demigod, you had found your own way to feel normal in this crazy world.

eventually, your eyes caught luke, and you stumbled back, imidiatley flushing. gods, you were mortified!

"l-luke? what are you doing here?" you exclaimed indignantly.

luke remained leaned up against the tree, the corners of his lips tilting upwards. "was on a walk, happend to come across you."

you huff. "how long have you been there?"

he shrugs, standing up straight. "not long." he walks forwards a bit, closer to where you stood. "you dance?"

wasnt it obvious? you thought, but awkwardly twiddled your thumbs. "well, used to, i guess. cant really anymore, cause....you know." you say, your voice somewhat shy.

luke humed in recognition. "yeah, the whole demigod thing doesnt help. wouldnt be fun if a cyclops showed up to a rectial, huh?" he said, the dry yet teasing humour in his voice elicited a giggle from your lips. "guess not," you agree softly, your eyes twinkling happily.

luke, feeling a little bashful, rubbed the back of his neck. "uh, your really good by the way. i feel a bit bad interrupting, you were in the zone."

you bite your lip, feeling a bit embarrassed. "yeah well, theres never really time to dance anymore, so i guess whenever i cant sleep i come out here to." you look him up and down. "is that why you're out here? you cant sleep?"

luke hums. "yeah. nightmares," he simplifies, his thoughts being brought back to the reason he left his cabin.

you blow out a breath of air. "hate those," you mumble.

luke observes you. "you enjoying camp?" he asks, changing subject.

you smile a little, nodding. "yeah, its different then what i thought it would be. it actually been really great, my sibling have been super welcoming," you say, your voice sounding so genuine and enthusiastic it was hard for luke not to smile.

his lips quirk up, eyes filled with a bit of mischief. "yeah, well, camp'll do that for you."

you bite your lip, almost as if you were contemplating your next words. "y'know, i haven't seen much of you since i got here. you must be busy."

luke chuckles a bit. "why, have you been looking for me?"

his flirty words heated your cheeks and you let out a nervous laugh. "no!" yes. "i was just wondering."

luke poked his tongue to the inside of his cheek. "right, right."

you talked for a little longer, before luke escorted you back to your cabin. you thanked him with a quick kiss to the cheek before running inside, and luke walked back to his own cabin, distracted from the overbearing titan in his dreams, even if only for a little while.

#xoxo #why was it so hard to write dancing istg #luke castellan fic #love u angels #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #percy jackson x reader #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan imagine #lukexreader #luke castellan x ballerina!reader #ballerina!reader #pjo #percy jackson fic

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aphroditelovesu · 9 months

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Winter Solstice | Yan!HOTD

❝ 🐉 — lady l: Merry Christmas, my dear readers! I wish you a great day and a prosperous New Year! I hope you enjoy this Christmas special with our yandere family from HOTD! Good reading, forgive me for any mistakes and once again, have a great holiday to you ❤️🎄.

❝warnings: yandere themes, mention of death and obsessive and possessive behavior.

❝🐉word count: 1,941.

A long, long time ago, when the Earth was young and the days were short, people looked up to the sky with wonder and awe. They watched the Sun rise and fall over the horizon, its heat bringing life to the earth and its dark nights bringing a deep sleep to the world.

In the ancient realm of the seasons, each cycle marked the eternal dance between light and dark. As winter approached, a whisper spread through nature. Leaves fell from the trees, animals sought shelter and the nights extended, enveloping the world in a blanket of darkness and cold.

It was the time of the Winter Solstice, a magical moment when the Earth seemed suspended between extremes. People gathered around campfires, telling stories of times gone by, sharing warmth and hope amid the impending darkness.

On the eve of the longest night of the year, eyes turned to the sky, waiting for the miracle. Slowly, the Sun began its journey towards the horizon, fighting the darkness with its golden light. The stars twinkled above, bearing witness to the celestial spectacle.

And then, in the most sublime moment, the Sun began to rise, rising majestically into the sky. The colors of dawn painted the landscape, and people celebrated the rebirth of the Sun, knowing that light and warmth would return to the world. It was a symbol of renewal, hope and the continuous cycle of life.

On the Winter Solstice, people came together to celebrate the courage of the light that faces the darkness, remembering that even in the darkest moments, there is always the promise of rebirth and the light that returns to warm the hearts and illuminate the souls ways.

It had always been your favorite time of year, you loved how the snow fell from the sky and painted everything white, the food, the exchange of gifts and most importantly, it was when your whole family was together. You appreciated more than anything the few moments of peace that your family spent during that date, all happy and together. Like a big, loving family.

Having them all together was what you loved most as you grew up. All the disputes, the fights seemed to disappear during this time of year. Your heart and mind were at peace.

The green of the forest and the fiery red of love and passion. Its fabric was as soft as a spring breeze, a harmonious blend of silk and cotton that moved like leaves dancing in the wind. The predominant green was reminiscent of treetops, its hue varying from a lush emerald green to softer nuances, like newborn buds. The waist was accentuated by a deep red belt, as if it were the blush of the petals of a passionate rose. The intense tone stood out, creating a magnificent contrast with the lush greenery, and a decorative bow added a touch of elegance.

Something beautiful and elegant, with both of your family colors. Of the Targaryens and the Hightowers. There was some small, discreet blue embroidery that symbolized the Velaryon, subtle but standing out in its own way.

You turned to your maid who was looking at you with affection, you smiled at her, ''What do you think, Diane?''

She smiled widely, ''You looked incredible, my princess/prince. A suitable choice for a dinner with your family.'' There was a hint of worry in her tone, but you just held her hands and squeezed them gently.

''Don't worry, Diane. Everything will be fine.''

She nodded, ''Yes... Do you want me to accompany you to where the banquet will be held?''

You politely denied, ''No, but thank you.''

A hint of disappointment flashed in her brown eyes, but she just smiled and after a simple bow, she left the room. You took a deep breath and looked at the ring that adorned your finger, a gift from your grandfather, Viserys. He was sick and you swore to yourself that you would do everything to make this dinner enjoyable for him. He deserved it.

Just as you expected, everything was impeccable and your family was already waiting for you. A majestic dining room, adorned with golden chandeliers that hung from the vaulted ceiling, casting soft light on long solid wood tables.

The walls were covered with richly embroidered tapestries, depicting scenes from Targaryen history and grand festivities. The polished stone floor gleamed in the light of the torches that adorned the walls, reflecting the grandeur of the space.

In the center of the room, a long table stretched out, covered in an immaculate linen tablecloth and decorated with wildflower arrangements and heraldry of noble families. Silver candelabras exuded a soft glow, while golden goblets glittered in the dancing light of the flames.

Music filled the atmosphere as skilled musicians played lutes, flutes and harps, entertaining guests with happy melodies and lively dances.

''(Y/N)!'' Your mother's excited voice called out to you and you smiled at Rhaenyra, who quickly hugged you, placing her head against the crook of your neck, ''You look great, sweetheart.''

''Thanks, mom. You look great too.'' And indeed, she did. Rhaenyra wore a dark red dress decorated with gold that fit her perfectly. She pulled back a little and smiled at you.

''(Y/N)! We're here.'' On one side of the table, your younger brothers sat. You looked at Jacaerys, Lucerys, and little Joffrey, who were smiling at you. You kissed Rhaenyra's cheek and went to sit next to your brothers. Or you tried, for that matter.

For you were quickly pulled to the side as Aegon grabbed you and pulled you closer to him, Aemond, and Helaena. You smiled at your aunt and uncles and greeted them.

''Sit with us.'' Aegon asked and pointed to an empty chair next to Helaena who was smiling sweetly at you. You looked nervously at your brothers, who were staring at Aegon with disdain.

Aemond frowned and placed a hand over your shoulder, ''Come, stay with us.'' His tone said there was no room for argument.

Luckily for you, the doors opened and revealed Viserys along with Alicent, both smiling when they saw you. You apologized to your aunt and uncles and quickly walked over to your grandparents, helping Viserys sit down.

''Ah, (Y/N)... You look great!'' Viserys praised you, as soon as he sat down. You smiled at him and kissed his cheek in thanks.

Alicent pulled you into a tight hug, ''My husband is right, you look great. This shade of green suits you very well.'' She murmured and walked away hesitantly, adjusting your clothes. You kissed your face.

''Thanks. You look amazing too.'' She smiled in response and held your hands, squeezing them gently.

After a few minutes of talking to your grandparents, you walked over to your father and uncle, who were sitting next to each other. Laenor smiled widely and pulled you into a tight hug, not wanting to let go. He only let go when Daemon cleared his throat, irritated.

Laenor rolled his eyes and let go of you, staring at Daemon with an iron gaze. Daemon returned the same look and you acted quickly before they fought.

''Happy Solstice to you both.'' You said, twiddling your fingers nervously. Daemon smiled and patted you on the shoulder twice, pulling you into a hug. You hugged him back.

''Happy Solstice, my child.'' Laenor said after you and Daemon parted ways.

''Happy Solstice, (Y/N).'' Daemon said, looking at you softly. You thanked them and apologized as you left them, wanting to greet your other family members. You spotted Baela and Rhaena sitting near your brothers and quickly walked over to them.

''Finally. I thought you would never come and talk to us.'' Baela complained and got up from the chair and hugged you tightly, ''I missed you, cousin.''

You returned the hug tightly, smiling at her words, ''I missed you too, cousin.''

Rhaena cleared her throat and stood up, hugging you as you and Baela separated.

You smiled at the squeeze and said, ''I missed you too, Rhaena.''

Joffrey got out of his chair and jumped into your arms, laughing loudly when you caught him in a tight hug.

''You're getting too big for me to keep doing this.'' You laughed and rolled him over, placing him on the floor. Russing his dark hair, you smiled when he laughed. You hugged Luke, who seemed especially clingy today. Jace also hugged you tightly and wished you a Happy Solstice.

After talking for a while with your brothers and cousins, you went to greet your paternal grandparents. Rhaenys and Corlys were sitting next to Otto, oddly enough, and the three of them looked at you with affection.

''Grandmother.'' You kissed Rhaenys's cheek who kissed yours back.

''Grandpa.'' You hugged Corlys and he hugged you back and complimented the blue details on your outfit.

''Otto.'' You greeted your great-grandfather, who smiled warmly at you. He seemed relaxed and calm, more so than he normally was.

''Shall we have dinner in honor of this happy day?'' Viserys's loud voice sounded in the room and everyone focused on the King. There was a bit of tension about where you should sit, but you chose next to Viserys and Rhaenyra, who shook your hand under the table.

Servants brought silver trays loaded with delicious delicacies. Large roasts of meat browned on skewers, exuding a tantalizing aroma of exotic spices. Tables were adorned with fresh fruit, from crimson apples to juicy grapes, and freshly baked bread that looked like it had come straight from the oven.

Plenty of wine circulated among everyone and soon everyone was laughing and talking. Your heart felt lighter when you saw your entire family happy, getting along for the first time in a long time.

After the banquet, you all went to one of the rooms of the castle, where the gifts were. The exchange went well, you received gifts from everyone individually and you presented them with what you carefully chose. Ser Criston was present and you gave him a gift too, under the watchful eye of your family, a pure Valyrian steel sword. He smiled in thanks and said he would give you a gift later.

When it seemed like the exchange of gifts was over, Otto said, ''We have a special gift for you, (Y/N). From all of us.'' He gestured to your entire family, who looked on expectantly. You took the gift from his hand, a wooden box with gold details, which was well packaged.

As soon as you opened it, all the color in your face disappeared. It was a head, a human head. You felt like you were going to throw up when you recognized the head. Diane, your servant.

''W-What is this?!'' You groaned, the words stuck in your throat as you held the box, your legs shaking as terror invaded your body. Everyone seemed calm, even Viserys.

''This is our gift to you, my child.'' Rhaenyra said and approached you, placing a hand on your shoulder, ''To remind you not to approach anyone.''

''They can't be trusted,'' Alicent began to say, ''Diane couldn't be trusted. Criston was the one who cut off her head and Rhaenyra, Helaena and I cradled her. The choice of the box was Daemon's.''

They looked at you expectantly, as if they hoped you really liked the gift. Your hands were shaking so much that the box fell to the floor, Diane's severed head falling to the floor.

A perfect ending to a loving Winter Solstice with your family, from their perspective.

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tofupixel · 6 months

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Hello! I randomly came across your art on my feed, first of all its absolutely fckn amazing. You’re are very talented and all of it is so beautiful, but I’ve also seen that you’re creating art for a game, and/or making a new game in general. Really curious as to what game, if you’re able to tell me! It looks amazing! I’m a sucker for indie farm/fantasy type games! Tysm ♥️

thank you!

oh yay i get to talk about sprite festival

its set in a fantasy world where these little 4 legged creatures are spirits that come in many varieties. they are based on a species my friend/the creator made called chowlings but other species will be in the game.

it's a sandbox / rpg game where players will be able to customize their home/plot of land and even their own character with an editable spritesheet. there will be fighting, battling and farming elements as well.

base sprite vs customized one

there are a few artists working on it, not just me, but i do most of the exterior tileset, specifically the natural stuff

RN i am working on an inner forest explorable biome which will be more ancient, with densely packed giant trees and ruins and stuff.

the little walking guy i was working on today is based on this concept by the creator:

no page yet for the game but we are aiming for kickstarter this year. i will post more about it when i'm able!

here's a video of the UI test as a treat! i dont have a lot of nice looking stuff to show off cos it all gets put together by someone else in the engine so lol

thx for asking !!

#qna #sprite festival #art #indie game #indie game art #pixel art

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onlycosmere · 2 months

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The Kickstarter goes live tomorrow!

When Brandon Sanderson began working with Brotherwise Games on the first adventure for The Stormlight Roleplaying Game, he considered how it could help him fix holes in the narrative of his bestselling fantasy series. He settled on a mystery from the first Stormlight Archive book, The Way of Kings, that will have big implications for the fifth book in the series, Wind and Truth, which will be released in December.

The Stormlight Archive is set on the planet Roshar, where 10 heroes known as Heralds spent millenia protecting humanity with the help of highly magical swords dubbed Honorblades. All of them abandoned their duties except Taln, the Herald of the Common Man. Despite Taln’s best efforts, the forces of the vengeful god Odium have returned. Taln was left maddened by his ordeal and soon after he first appears in the books, his Honorblade goes missing. Its whereabouts remain unknown.

“The adventure is answering that question,” Sanderson told Polygon. “What happened? Where did it go? What’s going on? And you get to be part of the story. We were looking for an adventure you could do that would intersect with the canon of the books in an interesting way, and allow you to fill in a hole yourself.”

The Kickstarter for the d20-based game goes live on Aug. 6 along with a beta preview of the rules and a first level adventure meant to walk players and game masters through the setting and core mechanics. The hardcover Stonewalkers Adventure, where players encounter Taln and learn what happened to his honorblade, will be released in 2025 along with the Stormlight Roleplaying Game Handbook and World Guide.

...

Players will hunt for Taln’s honorblade across Roshar, from the Shattered Plains where much of The Way of Kings is set, to the magical forest of the goddess Cultivation, where bold souls can receive both a boon and a curse. There are a mix of dungeon crawls, puzzles, chase scenes and prison breaks. As they choose how to approach the problems they face, player characters will be able to attract the attention of spren, spirit-like beings who can bond with like-minded people to bestow them with incredible abilities. Completing the mission can allow them to join the newly re-founded ancient order known as the Knights Radiant.

...

The PCs can meet major antagonists from the books, including the twisted Herald of Justice Nale and the traitorous General Meridas Amaram, and learn how the talking sword Nightblood first featured in Sanderson’s 2009 book Warbreaker wound up on Roshar. As they move through key moments from the series, like the emergence of a raging storm that brings Odium’s most powerful lieutenants back to the world, Sanderson welcomes players to reshape his narrative.

...

“There’s a lot of cultural details being filled in, but at the same time, we dig a little bit further into what each order of Radiants’ oaths, spren, and motivations are,” Sanderson said. “There’s some new stuff there that I think fans will really enjoy.”

#wob #the stormlight archive #cosmere #brandon sanderson #wind and truth #the stormlight archive rpg #cfsbf #root #cosmere future #long post

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dycefic · 1 year

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The Hearthstone God

[The sequel to the God of Prophecy, and the Serpent God of Protection]

---

Fire is out of fashion, in this new age.

Some of my kind have found new homes, new names, in factories or forges, in the hearts of wildfires or crystals or volcanoes.

Most of us are simply forgotten.

I was a fire god, once. A god of gathering, a god of communion, a god of song and story. But there are no hearthstones now. No fires around which families gather to eat and talk and tell stories.

I am lucky. I am tied to a great flat stone near a lake. A lake that has survived all the wild exuberance of men, when they learned to change the world around them. Once, this was a place where travellers stopped to rest. At first they travelled on their feet, or on half-wild horses. Then there were carts, and a road. Much later, cars drove down the road. The road was paved.

But some things do not change. People need clean water to drink, and the spring here is good. They need to rest, when they are weary. And even now, when they come to camp in nylon tents, to fish in the lake, or to hunt the ducks, or drive camper-vans to the flat place, their ancient instincts wake, and they turn to fire once more. They light new fires atop my stone, so flat and safe, from which no log will roll to set the woods afire.

Not so many come now. Camping is less popular these days. But some still come. Some still light their fires, and settle around my stone, and talk, or listen to music, or tell stories. So I survive, just barely, on the edges of belief.

I feel it, when things begin to change. Something is happening. Something is drawing old gods back. Not the great ones, risen beyond mortal understanding, but the oldest gods, the small gods, those who rose when humankind were still learning what they were.

Far to the west of me, a god even more ancient than I wakes, and begins to hunt again. I remember the stories that were once told of that old serpent, and tell them over to myself in the long fireless nights.

A god of prophecy, not of this land, settles south and west, and I remember tales of ancient ravens, their wisdom and their guile and their sharp, sharp eyes. There was a raven clan once, who passed this way in the days of skin garments and stone tools, but I have forgotten their name. I only remember the symbol they wore, the black bird with its spread wings, marked in charcoal or charring on wooden talismans or leather garments.

I wait, to see who will awaken next.

To my great surprise, it is me.

The people who come this time aren’t like the campers. They come at night, a ragged family group with few blood ties between them, with a single tent and few possessions carried on devices I haven’t seen before. Bicycles, they’re called, slung over with bags the way ponies used to be. They come at night, and hide when cars pass on the road.

They light a fire on my stone, with wood scavenged from the forest, and huddle around its warmth. They don’t speak much, not at first, but they say enough. They have no home, I learn. They are travellers of a kind I have not known before, who are allowed to stop nowhere, but have no goal but a place to rest. They are thin, and worn, and so tired. So very tired.

They need a hearth.

I am only a weak shadow of a god, now, who once recorded the songs and stories of a thousand generations in my ancient stone, but I am still a god of fire. Their fire burns slow, their little fuel lasting well. The food they heat over it sustains them better. The water of that spring, my spring, puts a little life back in them. This stone has lain in this place since great monsters walked this world, since before humans spoke words to one another, and I came into being with the first fire that burned on it. I am old, old, and though weak, I am not powerless.

They stay.

I cannot speak to them. I am old, and weak, and they do not believe. But slowly, with the power of the fires they build every night, with the tiny offerings of scraps of food spilled into the flames, with their growing confidence in the safety of this place, I am able to do more. I give them dreams and they find the cave not far away, where they can hide. They dream of fish, and begin to try to catch some. A woman remembers that some of the local plants are safe to eat, when I slowly wake a long-forgotten memory of a camping trip from her childhood.

And then a child, a strange, quiet child who rarely speaks, a child without mother or father, in the care of an older brother who is exhausted to the very edge of death but cannot give up while she needs him… that child begins to hear.

She sits on my stone, sometimes for hours, not moving or speaking. It worries the others, but at least she is quiet, at least she is no trouble, and they are beginning to associate their hearth with safety. So they let her sit.

She is *listening*. She is listening to the sound of the water, to the sounds of the forest, to the wind blowing. And because she is listening, where no-one else has listened for so long, I sing to her. I sing to her the songs of thousands of years. From the wordless music of the earliest people, who sang what was in their hearts without words, to the songs I have learned from the fishermen with their radios and bluetooth speakers.

I do not know if she hears me, for some time. But then, one night, while they sit around their fire and eat food the oldest have almost certainly stolen, she sings one of my songs. “In a cavern… on a canyon… excavating for a mine…” she sings in a small voice. The others are startled, confused, for she has not spoken aloud since some bad thing they do not name happened, but one of the older ones knows the song and sings with her.

I have always liked ‘Clementine’. It’s been popular with campers for a long time.

The next day, while she sits on my stone, she sings along to one of the wordless songs the Raven People whose name I no longer remember once sang. It is a lullaby, a soft croon to soothe an infant, passed from mother to mother, and she seems to take pleasure in it.

She can hear me. She can even answer me, as the voice driven away by pain and fear begins to return. And so I grow stronger still. Strong enough to make the raven sign on the stone, one day, in the ashes of the fire of the night before.

She takes a half burned stick, and draws the sign on the stone. Pleased, I show her another sign, a leaping fish. She draws that too.

Soon, I need not shift the ashes. I can show her the pictures in her mind, and she draws them. She draws the wheel of a cart, and into her heart I whisper the stories the travellers in covered wagons once told over my stone. She draws a fish, and I make her laugh silently with the jests of fishermen who boast of fish who escaped them. She draws a horse, and I tell her about the wild horses who once drank at this lake, about the men and women who captured and tamed them and rode them through the forest when it was far greater than it is now. She draws a long-toothed cat, and I show her the great cat that once slept on my stone, and denned in the cave where her new found family sleep.

One night, when all the others are asleep and my fire has burned down to coals, she creeps back to the stone and looks into the coals. “Who are you?” she asks. “Are you real?”

She is afraid that the voice in her mind is the voice of madness, a lie created by a mind that does not work like other minds, that has endured great hardship. I do not want this child to be afraid. To instill fear runs counter to my very nature, save in whoever might threaten those my hearth protects.

I am a god of the hearth. I am a god of food, and communication, and peace, and safety. I am all the things that fire used to mean, before humans learned again to fear the thing they had tamed. I do not often take a form, for fire is my form, but for her I must try.

There was a wise woman once, who knew me, whose clan visited this lake several times every year. I watched her grow up, and grow old. I watched her learn of the god of the fire stone, and I watched her teach others. She slept beside me as a child, and as a woman. She sang her children to sleep beside me, and her grandchildren, and dozed beside me as an old, old woman. To her, I was represented by a sign of a flame in an oval, a fire and a stone.

I build a likeness of her out of the light of the coals and the shadows of smoke, a child with straight dark hair and a simple tunic, and in lines of light I draw the sign of the fire and the stone on the outlined chest. “I am the fire,” I tell her, “and the stone. I am all the fires that have ever burned here, all the stories told, all the songs sung, all the meals eaten. I am the traveler’s hearth, and the rest for the weary, and this is my place.”

“Piedra de fuego,” she says, tracing the symbol with her finger in the air. “The fire stone.”

“Yes. I am the god of this place.”

She frowns at this. “My brother says that God is in the sky.”

“Many gods are in the sky.” I cannot continue to hold the form of the girl, but the coals shift to make my sign. “I am not. I am here. I have always been here, since the first people built a fire on my stone, and warmed themselves.”

She nods slowly. “You are… a small god,” she says thoughtfully. “A place god. Like in movies.”

“Yes.” I’ve heard of movies, which are a new way of telling old, old stories. “Old places, important places, often have gods. And gods who are forgotten return to their old places and wait, until someone believes again.”

“Will you protect us?” she asks. “When the police come, to tell us to move on?”

“I am not strong,” I tell her sadly. “I cannot make men go away from here, if they are dangerous, or even call game here for you as I once did. But what I can do, I will do.”

She sits watching the coals for a long time, thinking. “Can we make you stronger?”

I think too, and she waits patiently. “You have already made me stronger. You listened. You believed. If you can convince the others to believe, that will make me stronger still.”

She sighed. “They don’t believe in anything, anymore. Not good things.”

It is a sad thing, that she knows that. They’ve been trying to hide it from her. “Then,” I tell her, “that means there is a place in their hearts that is ready for me. I am not hope. I am not a happy ending. I am not a god in the sky. I am a stone, and a fire, and a song. I am *real*. They can believe in what is real.”

The next night, she asks for a story, and one of the adults tells her an old fairy-tale from a country far away.

The next night, again, she asks for a story, and another adult tells a funny story about his childhood.

On the third night, she asks her brother to tell her a story. He tries, but he is so tired - not physically, but emotionally - that he runs out of words. So she lays her hand on his arm and offers to tell him a story, instead.

And she tells them all a story about a stone near a lake, flat and strong, that people wearing uncured skins and carrying flint weapons built a fire on. She tells of centuries passing, of people coming to the lake on their feet, on horses, in carts and wagons, in cars and motor-homes. Of thousands of years of fires, of people gathered around them, of the great continuity of humanity, and the Piedra De Fuego that has lain in this place since time began, listening to the stories and the songs and the voices of people long gone. Somewhere in the stone, she says, laying her hand on it, all those stories are remembered. All those songs are still sung. And it will remember us too.

I don’t know if it will work. But I was right. People need to believe in something. They need something to hold onto, when times are hard, when the ties of community and family are broken and they feel alone. And a stone thousands of years old, and a fire endlessly renewed on that stone, always new… that is real. They touch me, and think of those who came before, of thousands of years of history meeting them in this place, and they feel less alone.

It’s not much, not yet. But it is something. My nature, my existence, as explained to them by my small, strange priestess, is a slender lifeline flung to those who are adrift, a tiny certainty in a world they do not trust. And the more they believe in that lifeline, that certainty, then the more they believe in me. I *am* growing stronger.

When the police come, I will not be able to make them leave… but I think I am strong enough now to hide my people from unkind eyes. And if I can do that, then their faith will grow.

Tonight, three more people come. A mother and two children, weary and beaten down with hardship. My people welcome them, give them fish and greens grown by the lake, speak kindly to them. And when they have eaten, my little priestess sits between the two children and tells them a story of a stone, and a fire, and thousands of years of stories and songs, and she sings a wordless lullaby six thousand years forgotten, but living again in a child who draws the sign of the Raven in the dirt while she sings, and the sign of the fire on the stone.

And I grow a little stronger.

#short fiction #original story #i aten't dead #the old gods #small gods #household gods #forgotten gods who do not forget

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doodle-pops · 17 days

Text

Foreign Hearts

Gil Galad x modern human!reader

A/N: At last, the final piece for the event of this year is out! I wanted to go out with a bang but I didn’t expect to write so much (ノ_･､). Enjoy!

Warnings:modern human reader, fluff, humour, modern reader in Middle Earth, relationship talk

Words: 3.7k

Synopsis: Reflecting on the secrecy of the love you’ve shared with the High King, turned into another romantic and heartwarming moment between you two.

The sun had just begun its slow descent, casting a golden hue over the serene landscape of Rivendell. The air was crisp and cool, carrying with it the sweet fragrance of blooming flowers and the gentle rustle of leaves. The melody of a distant waterfall filled the air, mingling with the song of birds that flitted through the trees. Rivendell was a place of peace, of beauty that seemed untouched by time, and it had become your sanctuary since that fateful day when you had mysteriously appeared in the forests nearby.

It had been months since you found yourself in Middle-earth, a place you had only known from the pages of books and the whispers of legends. One moment, you had been living your life in the modern world, surrounded by the familiar hum of technology and the bustle of city life; the next, you were wandering through a forest that seemed to belong to another time, another world entirely.

The elves who had found you, clad in their silver and green, had been as shocked by your appearance as you were by theirs. You were an anomaly, a puzzle they couldn’t quite piece together. Lord Elrond, the wise and kind ruler of Rivendell, had taken you in, offering you shelter and care as you adjusted to this strange new reality.

Living in Rivendell was like stepping into a dream—everything was so ethereal, so perfect, that you often had to pinch yourself to make sure it was real. Yet, despite the beauty around you, it was hard not to feel out of place. The elves, with their flowing robes, graceful movements, and ancient wisdom, seemed like beings from a different world altogether. Your modern speech, your casual mannerisms, even your sense of humour—things that had been perfectly normal back home—stood out starkly against the elegance of elven customs.

There were times when you caught the elves watching you with a mixture of curiosity and amusement, their ageless faces betraying their thoughts more than they likely realised. You had tried, at first, to conform to their ways, to adopt their formal speech and graceful etiquette. But it was exhausting to maintain, and eventually, you had accepted that you were simply different. You were a visitor in their world, and while you respected their ways, you couldn’t entirely change who you were.

It was during one of these quiet, introspective days that you first met Gil-galad.

The High King of the Noldor had arrived in Rivendell on a visit to consult with his Herald, Lord Elrond. You had heard of him in passing—the Elven king who ruled over Lindon, a figure of great authority and wisdom. But you hadn’t given it much thought, assuming that someone of his stature would have little reason to notice someone like you.

You were wrong.

The meeting had been as unexpected as everything else in Middle-earth. You had been wandering through one of the many gardens of Rivendell, lost in thought, when you nearly collided with someone. Looking up, you found yourself staring into the most striking pair of blue eyes you had ever seen. He was tall—taller than any of the other elves you had met—his presence commanding and regal, yet there was a warmth in his gaze that immediately put you at ease.

“Forgive me,” he had said, his voice smooth and deep, though the amused glint in his eyes told you he wasn’t at all displeased by the encounter.

You had stammered out an apology, feeling flustered and out of place in front of someone so imposing. But the King had only smiled, intrigued by your manner of speech—so different from the formal, melodic tones of the elves. His curiosity was piqued, and instead of continuing on his way, he had engaged you in conversation.

At first, you had been nervous, unsure of how to speak to someone of such high status. But as the conversation flowed, you found yourself relaxing. Gil-galad was different from what you had expected. He was charming and kind, with a sharp wit that matched your own. He seemed genuinely interested in your world, in your experiences, and you found yourself laughing and talking more freely than you had since you arrived in Middle-earth.

Over the course of his stay in Rivendell, you and the High King crossed paths often. Each encounter left you feeling a strange mixture of excitement and confusion. He was a King, after all, and you were… well, you weren’t even sure what you were anymore. Yet, there was no denying the connection that had begun to form between you. It was as though he saw past the strangeness of your situation and was drawn to the very things that made you different.

It was during one of these visits that he had gifted you the music box. A small, intricately carved thing made of mahogany, it played a melody that was hauntingly beautiful. You had been surprised, touched by the gesture, and from that moment on, the music box had become one of your most treasured possessions.

Now, as you sat on the stone bench in one of Rivendell’s many gardens, you found yourself once again lost in thought, the music box cradled in your hands. You had come here to find some peace, to escape the swirling thoughts and emotions that had been troubling you ever since your feelings for Gil-galad began to deepen.

The gardens were quiet, the air cool and filled with the scent of blooming flowers. The sun was low in the sky, casting a soft, golden light over everything. It was a perfect evening, the kind that made you forget, if only for a moment, that you were far from home.

“Does it not trouble you?”

The familiar, smooth voice pulled you from your reverie, and you looked up to see Gil-galad approaching, his expression curious and gentle. He was dressed in his usual attire—garments of silver and royal blue, the colors of his house—his presence as commanding as ever. He sat down beside you on the bench, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his body, but not so close as to make you uncomfortable.

You blinked, trying to shake off the fog of your thoughts as you focused on him. But your gaze was drawn to his lips, and for a moment, you couldn’t think of anything else. His lips, curved into that familiar teasing smile, held your attention, and your thoughts muddled together into a jumble of emotions.

He noticed your gaze and, with a smirk, leaned closer, his voice laced with amusement. “Is there something on my face, or rather, my lips, my love?” he teased, drawing out the moment, clearly enjoying your flustered reaction.

You felt heat rise to your cheeks, and you quickly looked away, focusing intently on the music box in your hands. Your fingers traced the delicate carvings, desperate for something to distract you from the fluttering in your chest. “Your teasing is going to get you into trouble one day, My King,” you muttered, your voice a mix of shyness and annoyance—though the latter was directed more at yourself than at him.

Gil-galad’s expression softened as he leaned back slightly, giving you a bit more space. “How many times must I remind you? You may call me Ereinion,” he said gently, though there was a hint of playful reproach in his tone.

You kept your eyes on the music box, refusing to look up and meet his gaze. “Once more…I suppose,” you replied quietly.

Silence settled between you as he continued to watch you, his eyes tracing the movements of your hands and the way you muttered softly to yourself in a language he couldn’t fully understand. Your mother tongue, ancient and melodic, was a lexicon from a world and age far removed from his own. Yet, despite the differences, he found comfort in these moments, in simply observing you in your element, even when the words escaped him.

“You are unhappy, are you not?” he asked, his voice gentle but laced with an undertone of certainty.

A smile tugged at your lips, as though his statement amused you, and for a brief moment, a crackle of energy filled the air, as if the very atmosphere responded to your unspoken thoughts. Setting the music box aside, you turned to face him, giving him the full weight of your attention. “Why would you come to such a conclusion, or rather, how?” you asked, disbelief coloring your tone. “I don’t recall ever giving the impression that I was.”

His expression softened, though there was a shadow of hurt in his eyes. “You do not address me by my name as lovers do,” he said quietly, his voice tinged with a sadness that pained you to hear. “It is almost as if you were embarrassed or uninterested in being with me. Is it because of our secrecy?”

And as the question hung in the air between you, you realised that this was a moment of truth, a moment when the feelings you had been trying to ignore could no longer be denied.

The weight of his words hung in the air, pressing against your chest like a heavy stone. Gil-galad’s expression, so often the picture of composed regality, was softened by the sadness in his eyes, a sadness that you had never intended to cause. But the truth, like the stone in your chest, was complicated and unyielding.

You reached out, your fingers brushing against his hand, warm and comforting as always. “Ereinion,” you began, the use of his name deliberate, a balm for the hurt you had unknowingly inflicted. “It’s not that I’m embarrassed or uninterested in being with you. Far from it.”

He turned his hand over to grasp yours, his thumb gently tracing circles on your palm. The simple gesture was comforting, grounding you in the moment as you searched for the right words. Words that would explain what you felt without causing him more pain.

“You have to understand,” you continued, your voice soft but steady, “I’m a human, Ereinion. A mortal. And that means…well, it means that I’m different from the people you’ve ruled and loved for centuries. I’ve seen how some of the elves speak about humans—like we’re nothing more than a fleeting thought in their minds. I know that not all of them feel that way, but enough do that it will make our relationship…complicated.”

His brows furrowed slightly, but he didn’t interrupt, simply listening as you voiced the thoughts you had kept buried for so long.

“You’re their High King, their leader, and their symbol of everything that is strong and eternal about the Eldar. And if they knew that you had chosen a human, someone who will live for only a blink of an eye compared to their long lives, to stand by your side…” You trailed off, shaking your head slightly. “I don’t think they would accept it. Not easily, anyway.”

He started to speak, but you held up your hand, a small smile playing on your lips as you looked at him, your heart swelling with affection. “It’s not just that, Ereinion. It’s also…well, I’m happy with things the way they are. Keeping our relationship a secret, it means I don’t have to deal with the expectations and judgments that would come if I were known as your chosen one. It’s a relief, honestly.”

You shifted slightly on the bench, feeling the smooth, cool wood beneath you as you gathered your thoughts. “When I first arrived in Middle-earth—when I was suddenly…here—I was lost. Confused. I didn’t understand your world or its customs. And despite the kindness I’ve been shown, especially by Lord Elrond, I still struggle with it. I’m not like the others. My behaviour, my speech, even the way I think, it’s all…different. I’ve spent over a year in Rivendell, learning and adapting as best I can, but there are times when I still feel like an outsider, like I don’t quite belong.”

The grip he held on your hand tightened slightly, a silent reassurance that he was there, that he understood. His eyes, so often filled with the weight of his responsibilities, now held only concern for you, his secret love.

“I’m not saying this to make you feel guilty,” you added quickly, seeing the flicker of guilt cross his features. “In fact, it’s the opposite. I’m grateful that we can keep our relationship private. It means I don’t have to deal with the pressure of being a ruler, of trying to prove my worth to people who might never accept me. I’ve heard how some of the elves speak of humans—how we’re seen as lesser, as irrelevant. I’ve witnessed the way they look down on us, dismiss us.”

You paused, meeting his gaze with a steady look. “There’s no way they would accept me as their leader. And that’s okay. I don’t need them to. I’m happy with my freedom, with not having to live up to impossible expectations or navigate the treacherous waters of court politics and finding myself crying in a corner every day of the week, anxiously. I’m content being your secret lover, someone who can love you without the weight of a crown on my head.”

A faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, making his expression softened further, the sadness giving way to a deep, abiding affection. “You are remarkable,” he said quietly, his voice filled with a kind of awe that made your heart skip a beat. “To find contentment in such circumstances…it’s not something many could do.”

You chuckled softly, the sound breaking the tension that had built between you. “Well, I’ve always been one to adapt, but not this time. Maybe if it was another human instead of me, they might enjoy the idea of being a royal more than the problems it bring,” you teased lightly. “Besides, I’ve never been one for grand titles or public adoration. I prefer the quiet moments, like this one, where I can just be myself with you.”

He nodded, a small, grateful smile crossing his lips. “It’s those quiet moments that I cherish most as well,” he admitted. “In all my years, with all the burdens of leadership, it’s rare to find someone who sees me not as the High King, but as Ereinion—just an elf who loves and is loved in return.”

Your heart warmed at his words, and you squeezed his hand gently. “And that’s exactly how I see you,” you said softly. “I fell in love with you, not for your title or your power, but for who you are—the elf who listens to my ramblings, who teases me when I’m being too serious, who finds joy in the small things.”

The weight of your conversation still hung in the air, but with it came a sense of relief—a feeling that you had finally voiced the thoughts that had been swirling in your mind for so long. Gil-galad’s expression had softened, his eyes still holding that deep affection, but now there was an understanding between you that hadn’t existed before.

You broke the silence first, a small smile playing on your lips as you leaned back on the bench, your fingers still intertwined with his. “You know,” you began, your tone lightening, “I never imagined when I first ended up in Middle-earth that I’d be sitting here with the High King of the Elves, having a heart-to-heart in a secret garden.”

He chuckled softly, the sound a deep, warm rumble that you felt as much as heard. “And I never imagined that I’d fall in love with a human from a world I’ve never even heard of,” he replied, a teasing glint in his eyes. “But life has a way of surprising us, doesn’t it?”

You nodded, a laugh escaping your lips as you thought back to the strange journey that had brought you here. “That’s an understatement. I mean, one day I’m sitting in my apartment, minding my own business, and the next thing I know, I’m in Rivendell, surrounded by elves and trying to figure out how not to embarrass myself with every other word I say.”

Gil-galad’s smile widened, and he leaned back beside you, the tension between you dissipating like morning mist. “I remember the first time I heard you speak,” he mused, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “You were trying to explain the concept of a ‘microwave’ to Elrond, and he looked as though he was trying to decipher an ancient riddle.”

You groaned, your cheeks heating at the memory. “Oh, don’t remind me. I must have sounded like a complete lunatic. I’m still not sure he believes that microwaves aren’t some kind of magic.”

“Well,” Gil-galad said, his tone mock-serious, “you have to admit, it does sound rather magical. A box that cooks food in mere moments? Even I have trouble wrapping my head around it.”

You rolled your eyes, unable to keep the grin off your face. “It’s just science,” you replied with a playful nudge. “But then again, in a world where magic is real, I suppose science might seem a little…mystical.”

He chuckled again, his gaze softening as he looked at you. “That’s one of the things I love about you,” he said, his voice warm. “You bring a perspective that’s entirely different from anything I’ve known. You see the world in a way that none of us do, and it’s…refreshing.”

You raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at your lips. “So what you’re saying is, you fell for me because I’m weird?”

He laughed, the sound full and genuine, and you couldn’t help but join in. “Well, if by ‘weird,’ you mean unique, then yes,” he teased, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “And besides, I think you’re the only person who can make me laugh like this.”

You tilted your head, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “Oh, so I’m your court jester now? Should I start juggling or learn to ride a unicycle?”

Shaking his head, his laughter fading into a soft smile. “No, you’re much more than that. But if you do learn to juggle, I’m sure we could arrange a performance at the next feast.”

You playfully swatted his arm, your heart feeling lighter with each moment you spent in his company. “You’re incorrigible, you know that?”

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “Only with you, my love.”

The warmth of his breath against your skin sent a pleasant shiver down your spine, and you felt your resolve to keep things light slipping away under the intensity of his gaze. But before you could lose yourself in the moment, you caught yourself and leaned back, a smirk on your lips as you tried to regain the upper hand.

“You know,” you said, your tone teasing, “if this is your way of convincing me to move in with you, you’re going to have to try harder. I’ve grown rather fond of my little room in Rivendell, and I’m not sure I’m ready to give up my bach pad just yet.”

His brow raised and lips quirking into a smile. “Oh? And what would it take to tempt you away from your ‘bach pad,’ as you call it? A private suite in the palace? Endless bouquets of flowers delivered daily? A personal chef to prepare all your meals?”

You pretended to consider his offer, tapping your chin thoughtfully. “Hmm, those are all tempting…but I’m not sure. I mean, who’s going to teach Elrond about the wonders of modern technology if I’m not around?”

He laughed again, a deep, rumbling sound that made your heart flutter. “You make a good point. I’m not sure he’s ready to tackle the mysteries of the ‘microwave’ on his own.”

“I don’t think he’s even ready for to learn about the internet or the blender. However, he did take learning the TV, fairly,” you laughed.

“When you do, inform me for I would be interested in witnessing his utter confusion,” he replied with equal merriment.

You grinned, pleased with your little victory, but before you could bask in it for too long, Gil-galad leaned in once more, his expression suddenly serious. “But in all seriousness,” he said, his voice gentle, “I want you to know that wherever you are, that’s where I want to be. Whether it’s in Rivendell, here in my palace, or anywhere else…as long as we’re together, I’ll be happy.”

The sincerity in his words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you were at a loss for what to say. You had always known that he cared for you deeply, but hearing it spoken aloud, in such a simple, heartfelt way, made your chest tighten with emotion.

After a beat, you managed a smile, though it was softer now, more vulnerable. “I feel the same way,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “And as much as I joke about it…I know that wherever you are, I’ll always feel at home.”

His hand tightened around yours, his thumb brushing softly against your skin. “Then that’s all I need,” he said quietly.

The moment stretched out between you, filled with a warmth and understanding that words couldn’t fully capture. It was in the way he looked at you, the way his hand fit perfectly around yours, the way the world seemed to fall away when you were together. Here, in that garden, under the stars of a world you never expected to call home, you found something you never knew you were searching for.

But even as you basked in the comfort of the moment, a flicker of mischief returned to your eyes. “But just so you know,” you added with a grin, “if you ever try to get me to wear one of those elaborate court attires, we might have a problem.”

Launching into another round of laughter, the sound echoing in the stillness of the night, he shook his head. “Noted,” he said, his eyes shining with affection. “I wouldn’t dream of it. But I have to say, I think you’d look stunning.”

You wrinkled your nose playfully. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Your Majesty. I prefer my sweatpants and t-shirts, thank you very much.”

He smiled, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your temple. “And that’s exactly how I like you,” he murmured, his voice filled with a warmth that made your heart grown warmer.

Masterlist

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connorsui · 6 days

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“Earth and pine, breath and heart” || Halsin ||

Synopsis: Amidst the quiet nature of the forest, Halsin finds a new kind of peace in your shared intimacy, realizing that you are the missing piece he's been searching for beyond the balance of the wilds.

Genre/warnings: fluff, a tad bit of slow burn, itty bitty soft moments, quiet intimacy, emotional vulnerability, halsin lowkey loving you …no warnings tho …halsin ain't about that angst

Note: halsin has been on my radar for like awhile …I needed to make a fic out of my bear man

w.c: 1.1K

The warmth of Halsin’s breath whispered across your skin, delicate yet undeniable, carrying with it not just the scent of pine and earth but the very essence of the forest itself. His presence was vast, ancient, yet it didn’t overwhelm—you felt steadied, as though in his nearness you had discovered a sanctuary amidst the wilderness of life. The air between you hummed, alive with unspoken thoughts, the silence more profound than any words.

Neither of you dared break that silence, a fragile thread woven from the crackling of the fire and the rhythmic night sounds. Halsin’s eyes, deep and unyielding like the forest at midnight, flickered in the firelight. His gaze held no urgency, no demand—only a patient curiosity, like the pull of the moon on the ocean, inexorable yet gentle.

“You are different,” he said at last, his voice a low rumble, steady as the roots of an ancient tree. It felt as though he were speaking from some place beyond this moment, reaching for something timeless.

A soft smile ghosted across your lips, but you could not hold back the curiosity his words stirred within you. “In what way do you see me, exactly?”

His brow furrowed slightly, a crease forming between his eyes as though he were contemplating something larger than either of you. “In you,” he said slowly, his voice hushed with reverence, “I see a reflection of home. Not the wild, untamed places I’ve known, but a kind of stillness. A peace that settles, like the calm after a storm. You carry it with you, though you may not realize it.”

His words took root within you, warmth blooming in your chest like the first light of dawn. His hand, rough from years spent in the wilds, was surprisingly tender as he turned his palm upwards, meeting your fingers with a gentleness that felt like a promise, unspoken but deeply understood.

"The wilds will always be part of me," he murmured, more to himself than to you, his gaze distant for a moment, as though searching the horizon for something he had long lost. "But lately... I’ve begun to wonder if there’s more. If balance, in all its beauty, is enough." His eyes found yours again, and in them, you saw not the fierce protector of nature, but the man—uncertain, searching, longing. "Now, I find myself drawn to you, as if you’re the part of me I didn’t know I was missing."

There was a weight to his words, a quiet intensity that made your breath catch. The world seemed to still, the sounds of the forest fading until all that remained was the rhythm of your heartbeat and the warmth of his hand in yours. In the space between words, something passed between you—a recognition, a quiet understanding of something neither of you had named, yet both had felt growing, quietly and inevitably.

You smiled softly, a flush rising in your cheeks as your thumb traced slow circles across his palm. It was such a simple thing, this touch, yet it felt like so much more—a bridge between you, a silent affirmation of the connection that had taken root.

What you hadn’t realized, or perhaps had only begun to understand, was that Halsin was as captivated by you as the forest was by the rain. His gaze lingered on the curve of your lips, the way your hair caught the firelight, making the ordinary seem luminous. You spoke, and he listened—not just to your words, but to the melody of your voice, filling the spaces between the trees and reverberating in places within him that had long been silent.

Without thinking, your knee brushed against his, and you didn’t pull away. In that touch, there was no hesitation, no uncertainty. There was only the quiet thrum of connection, as natural and inevitable as the turning of seasons.

Halsin’s breath caught, his chest rising and falling in a slow rhythm. His eyes, dark and fathomless, never left yours, and yet within them, you saw something tender, something vulnerable. Gently, almost hesitantly, he lifted your hand, his thumb grazing the soft skin of your fingers before tilting your chin upward, guiding your gaze to meet his.

Even sitting, he seemed to tower over you, a force of nature contained within a man. Yet, there was no dominance in his gesture, no need to assert power—only a quiet tenderness, as though he had found something precious in you and could not look away.

His thumb brushed your lower lip, so soft it might have been a dream, and in that instant, the world seemed to fall away, leaving only the two of you, suspended in a moment both infinite and impossibly fragile.

The air between you hummed with unspoken possibility, and then, as though drawn by something greater than either of you, he leaned in. His lips met yours in a slow, deliberate kiss—a gentle, careful press that felt like the first touch of spring after a long winter. It was tender, yet full of promise—a beginning, not an ending.

When he pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the quiet space between words. His eyes, so often distant and watchful, were soft now, vulnerable in a way that took your breath away.

"You are my peace," he whispered, the words a quiet confession, a truth that had long taken root and was only now finding the light.

The silence that followed was full, rich with meaning, like the stillness before dawn. And as you looked into his eyes, you understood that this was no fleeting moment. It was a seed, planted in the fertile ground of shared breath and whispered words, and it would grow—quietly, steadily—into something deeper, something that would stand the test of time.

Halsin’s thumb brushed your lip once more, lingering, as though he could not bear to let go just yet. "The peace I’ve sought for so long," he said, his voice faltering slightly, "it’s not in the wilds alone... I see it here, in you."

Under the watchful stars, you came to understand that peace was not a destination, but something carried within—growing in the quiet spaces between heartbeats, in the brush of a hand, in the unspoken certainty of a love that needed no words to be felt.

Halsin, with his unshakable connection to the untamed wilds, had found a new home—in you.

I want another kiss like a selfish woman that I am

#suiwrites🍒#halsin x reader #halsin x tav #bg3 x reader #bg3 x tav #halsin #bg3 x you #bg3 halsin #baldurs gate halsin #baldurs gate 3 x reader #bg3 tav #bg3 #bg3 imagine #halsin imagine #halsin x reader imagine #bg3 fluff #baldurs gate 3 fluff

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kingofbodyrolls · 20 days

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Friendcation (m) | myg | honeymoon special

You and Yoongi travel to Scandinavia for your honeymoon, well more like babymoon. You camp, fish, hike and enjoy nature as you always do, and you even go surfing!

→ Pairing: mechanic!Yoongi x reader (female) → AUs: roadtrip!au, non idol!au, established relationship, mechanic!Yoongi. → Genres: slice of life, humor/crack, smut and fluff → Rating: mature/explicit/R18 (this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.) → Word count: 8.8k → Warnings (explicit): semi-public sex (in a caravan on a campsite), exhibitionism, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, multiple sex scenes, nudity, oral (female and male receiving), breast play (sucking, slight biting), hickeys, squirting, deepthroating, creampie, impregnation kink, dirty talk, pleasing kink → Author’s note(1): another extra for friendcation is here! 🥳 I hope you enjoy this one too! 💜 → Read on AO3? [link] ✨

← previous | s.masterlist | m.masterlist | next (soon) →

When Yoongi revealed that he had already booked your honeymoon, you envisioned a sun-soaked paradise where you could bask in the golden warmth, bathe in crystal-clear waters, and revel in the essence of summer. But instead of tropical shores, you found yourself in the rugged mountains of Norway, on the cusp of autumn, where nature whispered secrets in the crisp, cool air. Yoongi had chosen this destination, a place forever etched in his heart from a trip with friends many years ago. He longed to share its raw, breathtaking beauty with you, and as you stood there, surrounded by towering peaks and pristine wilderness, you had to admit—the splendor was undeniable. Majestic mountains embraced the horizon, and the forest teemed with life—graceful deer gliding silently among the trees, playful squirrels darting about in a dance of their own.

For nearly a week, you nestled in a quaint cottage deep within the mountains, cocooned in the serene tranquility of nature. Each day, the world seemed to slow down, allowing you to savor every moment in this hidden paradise. But now, a new adventure beckons as your journey takes you onward to Denmark, with the enchanting landscapes of Sweden to explore first. The anticipation of Swedish forests, mirrored lakes, and ancient woodlands fills you with a quiet excitement, promising more adventures and moments of serene beauty.

The weather is a delicate dance between warm sunlight and the early September chill, hinting at the approach of autumn. Your journey from Norway to Sweden unfolds by bus, and upon arrival, a picturesque walk from the bus stop to your next secluded cottage awaits. The lightness of your luggage, carefully packed with warm clothes, turns the trek into an enjoyable prelude to the days ahead. You silently thank Yoongi for the foresight to pack hiking boots, as the rugged terrain tests your endurance. But the challenge is worth it, as each evening is rewarded with the simple pleasure of curling up in Yoongi’s arms, his hands soothing your tired feet as the day’s adventures fade into the warmth of the firelight.

In the Swedish cabin, time flows effortlessly, unburdened by the outside world. Yoongi, ever the thoughtful partner, prepares mouthwatering meals with ingredients fresh from the surrounding land, and with patient hands, he teaches you the art of fishing—a skill that had always eluded you on previous vacations. His steady guidance, coupled with whispered advice to remain silent, keeps the fish from fleeing, and you manage to catch a few, only to release them back into their watery home with a sense of reverence. Days are spent hiking the rolling hills and dense forests, each return to the cabin marked by the comforting embrace of each other’s arms, the crackle of the fire, and the soft murmur of the wilderness outside. Time slips away like water through your fingers, and before you know it, you’re packing for the next chapter of your journey.

The bus carries you southward, where a train awaits to whisk you to Denmark. There, just outside Copenhagen, you rent a car and a charming caravan trailer, your home on wheels for the next leg of your adventure. Denmark’s landscape, while familiar to Sweden’s, carries its own unique charm—its language more rough, its fields more open, a reminder that every place, like every person, has its own distinct personality.

Both you and Yoongi present your driver’s licenses, receive the keys, and locate your vehicles with the excitement of a new journey just beginning. Yoongi takes the wheel, his hands confidently guiding you northward to a place called Thy, a region he had spoken of with a quiet reverence. The local radio station fills the car with the lively tunes of Danish pop music, and as the road unfolds before you, a bridge rises to meet the horizon. You recline into your seat, lulled by the soothing rhythm of the road beneath you, when Yoongi mentions needing a break. He spots a rest stop, effortlessly maneuvering into a spacious parking area, and for a moment, the world outside pauses, allowing you both to take a breath and savor the journey that lies ahead.

Yoongi quickly exits, making a beeline for the restrooms, while you step out, stretching your limbs with a quiet sigh. The late hour casts a golden glow, the sun hanging low on the horizon, bathing the world in a warm, amber light that feels like a fleeting embrace. Around you, the scene is tranquil yet alive—lush green trees stand as silent sentinels, large trucks and trailers rest like sleeping giants, and an array of cars glimmer under the fading daylight. Your gaze drifts to a small store nearby, and you consider the idea of grabbing a meal, but something else catches your attention. A group of young men huddles around a car with its hood propped open, their faces etched with worry, a silent image of distress. Though the intricacies of engines elude you, Yoongi’s knack for mechanics brings a knowing smile to your lips. Almost as if sensing the moment, he appears beside you, his hand finding yours with effortless grace.

You gesture toward the troubled vehicle, your voice soft yet tinged with curiosity. “Do you think we should ask if they need help?”

Yoongi clears his throat, a quiet confidence in his nod, always eager to lend a hand when cars are involved. Together, you approach the trio and their ailing car, a shared purpose drawing you forward.

“Do you need help?” Yoongi asks in English, his voice carrying a note of calm assurance. Two of the young men exchange giggles, their reason a mystery, but the one peering under the hood turns to Yoongi with relief plain in his eyes. “Yeah. I don’t know what’s wrong with it.”

“I’m a mechanic. I don’t mind taking a look,” Yoongi replies, rolling up his sleeves to reveal his veined forearms, a sight that sends a flutter through your chest. “Babe, can you grab me a flashlight?” he asks, his voice gentle, and you’re quick to comply, retrieving it from the rental car. As the sun sinks lower, each sliver of light becomes precious, a fleeting gift for Yoongi’s hands to work by.

With the flashlight in hand, you stand close, watching Yoongi immerse himself in the task, his focus as sharp and radiant as the golden hour surrounding you both. His expertise becomes a quiet melody in the twilight, a dance of hands and metal that feels almost sacred in its simplicity.

“I’m Jonas, by the way. Thanks for looking at the car,” the young man says, stepping away to rejoin his laughing friends, a moment of lightness amidst their concern. You watch him playfully slap one of them on the arm, the sound of laughter briefly filling the air before your attention returns to Yoongi. You adjust the flashlight, its beam following the precise movements of his hands as he examines the engine. Yoongi lets out those soft, endearing noises he makes when deeply engrossed in a task, a habit he likely doesn’t even realize he has, but one that always stirs something deep within you. This moment is no different. Watching him work with such intensity sends warmth through you, a reminder of why you cherish these shared moments, even in the most unexpected places.

Grease begins to smudge his hands as he delves deeper under the hood, reattaching a loose valve and checking fluid levels with the practiced ease of someone who has spent years mastering his craft. Over time, you’ve absorbed a few of his car maintenance tips, knowledge passed on in quiet moments like these. Yoongi steps back from the car, a signal for you to turn off the flashlight, and you comply as Jonas, his brows knit with lingering concern, approaches to hear Yoongi’s verdict.

“I reattached a loose valve,” Yoongi explains, his tone measured and thoughtful, “and you’re low on radiator fluid. Be cautious when you drive; the car could overheat. You should refill it as soon as possible. Do you live nearby? It’s risky to drive far in this condition.”

The young man nods, gratitude and relief mingling in his expression. And as you stand there, bathed in the fading light, you can’t help but feel a quiet satisfaction in the simple act of helping, of being there in that moment with Yoongi, where the beauty of the setting sun is matched only by the warmth of his presence beside you.

Jonas nods, a wave of relief washing over his face. “We live close—we’re almost home. I’ll drive carefully and contact my mechanic tomorrow,” he says, offering a grateful smile. Yet, as his friends snicker behind him, their eyes linger on you with a gaze that feels like a brush of unwelcome heat, as if you’re some forbidden temptation. “Thank you so much for your help,” Jonas adds, shaking Yoongi’s hand with a vigor that speaks to his gratitude, pulling him into a spontaneous hug.

Yoongi returns the gesture with warmth, clearly pleased to have made a difference. As he walks back to you, you notice him wiping his greasy hands together in a futile attempt to clean them, a small smile playing on your lips at the sight.

You greet him with a smoldering gaze, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing a kiss to his lips, a kiss that holds both affection and a touch of mischief. Are you putting on a show for the boys who ogled you earlier? Absolutely. As you pull away, you lean into his ear, your voice a whisper in English, “You always look so damn hot when you’re working. I can’t wait for you to fuck me later.” Your words are barely audible, yet you catch the sound of one of the guys choking in surprise, a wicked smile curling your lips as you take Yoongi’s hand. With a playful wave to the three gaping men, you turn and saunter back to your rental car, feeling Yoongi’s hand squeeze your ass with a low chuckle.

“You’re such a good and dirty girl,” he murmurs, his words a spark that sends warmth pooling in your core. His praise, his touch, his very presence—everything about him ignites the fire within you.

Slipping back into the car, Yoongi starts the engine, the soft rumble beneath you a prelude to the journey ahead. The night deepens as you drive, the world outside dissolving into shadows and starlight, the road a ribbon of dark velvet stretching toward the unknown. Hours later, you arrive at a quiet camping ground nestled in the northern wilderness. Yoongi picks a spot at random, the exhaustion of the day evident in the slump of your bodies. He parks and turns off the car, the silence of the night settling around you like a blanket.

Yoongi sets to work preparing the caravan, a compact haven of white and beige. Inside, it holds a tiny kitchen with a sink, fridge, and portable stove, a dining area that converts into a bed, bunks that will remain untouched, and a small bathroom. As he transforms the dining space into a bed, you slip out of your clothes and into one of his shirts, the familiar scent of him comforting against your skin. Yoongi follows suit, and after brushing your teeth together, you both crawl into bed, the weight of the day melting away in the warmth of each other’s presence.

He spoons you, his body pressing close, and you feel the unmistakable hardness against your ass, a thrill of desire sparking within you. Unable to resist, you grind back into him, eliciting quick, needy sounds that only fuel your own arousal. You turn to capture his lips in a kiss, your voice breathless as you whisper how much you need him.

Without a word, he turns you over, his hands deftly pulling down your panties and sliding his own underwear aside. The moment he enters you, a sigh escapes your lips, the smooth glide of him filling you completely, a perfect fit that sends waves of pleasure rippling through you. He moves with a rhythm that drives you wild, each thrust deeper, more urgent, as his hand finds your clit, pushing you ever closer to the edge. The pleasure builds, coiling tight within you until it snaps, your climax washing over you in a wave of pure ecstasy. He follows soon after, his warm release filling you as he grunts against your neck, pressing lazy kisses to your shoulder.

In the afterglow, he gently pulls your panties back up, his touch tender as you both settle into the bed, the night wrapping around you like a cocoon. Exhaustion pulls you under, and with the comforting weight of Yoongi beside you, you drift into a deep, contented sleep, the echoes of your shared passion lingering in the quiet night.

Morning breaks with the gentle chorus of birdsong and sunlight spilling into the caravan like liquid gold. You groan softly, stretching your limbs as Yoongi stirs beside you, his warmth anchoring you to the comfort of the moment. The new day whispers promises of fresh adventures, but for now, you linger in the serenity, savoring the feel of his body close to yours.

“Morning, babe,” he murmurs, his voice thick with the remnants of sleep, his hair tousled in a way that only adds to his effortless charm.

“Morning, Yoon,” you reply, your voice soft as you lean in to press a kiss to his lips, a gentle exchange of warmth before you rise to greet the day. The morning routine is simple and sweet—brushing teeth and hair, sharing a light breakfast—each small act grounding you in the shared rhythm of your lives.

Stepping outside, the landscape unfolds before you, vast and open, dotted with tufts of grass and stretches of sand. The air is brisk, carrying the salty tang of the sea and the constant, soothing lull of waves crashing against the distant shore. You inhale deeply, the cold, invigorating air filling your lungs as you take Yoongi’s hand, the two of you setting off to explore the campground, the natural beauty around you awakening with the first light of day. The world is still in its early stirrings, granting you a peaceful solitude, a shared quiet that feels almost sacred.

As you stroll, the calm is broken by the sight of an elderly couple walking past—naked. You exchange a startled glance with Yoongi, his expression mirroring your own surprise. The closer you draw to the beach, the more you realize that everyone around you is unabashedly bare, the air thick with a sense of freedom that feels, to you, both strange and out of place. Overdressed and bemused, you settle down on the sandy shore, leaning into Yoongi as you take in the unexpected scene.

“What is this place?” you murmur, half-amused, half-bewildered by the sight of naked bodies in every direction. Yoongi chuckles, pulling out his phone to solve the mystery. Moments later, his laughter bubbles up, contagious and bright.

“It’s a nudist campsite and beach,” he explains, his eyes sparkling with amusement as realization dawns on you. Laughter spills from your lips, a shared moment of levity in the midst of this peculiar discovery. There’s something admirable about the courage of those around you, their ease in embracing their natural state, even if it’s not a comfort you share. With a grin, you tell Yoongi that while you can appreciate their confidence, you’d much rather prefer a different campsite—one where the only naked body you see is his, perhaps later tonight.

The day unfolds in a series of light-hearted decisions and shared smiles. Later, you venture into the chilly embrace of the sea, donning your swimwear despite the nudist surroundings. The water is cold, biting against your skin, yet it awakens something within you—an invigorating contrast to the warmth of the morning, cleansing and bracing. Afterward, you drive into a nearby town for lunch, soaking in the lively atmosphere, the air filled with the hum of conversation and the sound of laughter. Hand in hand, you wander through quaint shops, not seeking anything in particular, but relishing the simple pleasure of being together.

The hours pass in a blend of humor and quiet adventure, each moment wrapped in the comfort of Yoongi’s presence. Together, you weave through the day, creating a tapestry of memories that feel destined to become cherished stories—reminders of the joy found in the unexpected, and the beauty of sharing life’s quirks with the one you love.

You return to the campsite, hitching the caravan back to the rental car, eager to find a new haven—a place where the landscape is as private as your desires. The drive is peaceful, the miles slipping away under a sky that deepens into twilight, leading you to a secluded campground far removed from the nudist site. As night falls, you settle into the quiet embrace of nature, the only witnesses to your evening the stars that begin to shimmer above.

Under a canopy of twinkling lights, you and Yoongi sit side by side on a pair of worn stools, warm cups of tea in hand. The night is cool, the air crisp, and the silence between you is companionable, filled with the unspoken understanding that comes from years of shared moments like this. The sky stretches out endlessly above, a vast canvas of dark velvet scattered with diamonds, and you both soak in its serene beauty, letting the tranquility of the moment wrap around you like a comforting blanket.

Later, you retreat to the warmth of your caravan, its small space transformed into a world of your own. Curled up in bed, you lean in for a kiss, the softness of his lips familiar yet always thrilling. Your fingers find the waistband of his boxers, and with a deliberate slowness, you peel them away, revealing his hard cock that you always crave. Your desire for him is insatiable, a fire that never dims, only burns hotter with each passing touch.

Wearing nothing beneath your nightshirt, your slick arousal greets him as you straddle his hips, a low moan escaping your lips as you grind down, the friction intoxicating. The rough texture of his pubic hair against your sensitive skin, the solid heat of his cock against your aching pussy—every sensation drives you wild, fueling the need that pulses through you.

Dripping with want, you wrap your hands around his thick dick, guiding him to your entrance, and with a slow, deliberate motion, you sink down onto him. The stretch is exquisite, your body accommodating him inch by inch until your ass meets his pelvis, the fullness making you gasp.

“Fuck, you’re always so big,” you pant, the words tumbling out as pleasure ripples through you, your head falling back in ecstasy.

His groan is guttural, raw, as his fingers dig into your hips, holding you in place. “You’re so fucking tight,” he growls, his breath hot against your skin, his need for you as urgent as yours for him. “Taking me so good, baby,” he rasps, already breathless, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down your spine.

You hum in response, setting a steady rhythm as you begin to move, your hands splayed against his chest for balance. Leaning forward, you press kisses to his collarbones, his neck, your breath hitching as you whisper into his ear, “Get me pregnant, Yoon.”

You feel him twitch inside you, a reaction as instant as it is powerful, the mere idea pushing him closer to the edge. His grip tightens, possessive, and he begins to thrust up into you, his movements seeking control as he chases that intoxicating thought. His hips snap against yours with a newfound urgency, his pace relentless as he drives deeper, harder.

He holds you still as he pounds into your warm, wet heat, each thrust tearing a scream from your throat. You try to muffle your cries, aware of the thin caravan walls and the nearby campers, but the pleasure is overwhelming, consuming, and it’s impossible to stay quiet under his relentless onslaught.

Together, you find a rhythm, a perfect synchrony that sends you both hurtling toward the edge. He hits your g-spot with precision, over and over, until the coil in your stomach tightens to the point of breaking. With a choked cry, you unravel around him, your orgasm crashing over you in waves as your body releases a rush of liquid heat, soaking his cock as you convulse in his arms.

Panting, you cling to him, your body shuddering as he continues to move, his pace unyielding until you collapse against his chest, utterly spent. It’s more intimate like this, your bodies pressed close, and as you whisper filthy promises in his ear, nipping at his lobe, he comes inside you with a deep groan, filling you with his warmth as he grunts against your neck, his lips brushing your skin in lazy kisses.

You both gasp for breath, slick with sweat and the mingled scent of your lovemaking. He cleans you gently with a towel, his touch tender, before pulling you back into his arms. You drift off to sleep in his embrace, safe and sated, just as you love to.

The terrain here is gentler, the low elevations a welcome reprieve from the rugged mountains of Norway and Sweden. Your days have been spent in quiet contentment, the two of you fishing in the calm waters, the simplicity of the act bringing a sense of peace. Words aren’t needed in these moments, the silence speaking volumes as you sit side by side, casting lines and sharing smiles.

One day, you take a bus into Aarhus, the city buzzing with life on a cold Friday night. The decision to take public transport is an easy one—no need to worry about driving as you plan to indulge in the vibrant nightlife. The contrast between the quiet days spent in nature and the energy of the city is exhilarating, and you look forward to a night of laughter and exploration, knowing that whatever the evening holds, it will be another memory to cherish with Yoongi by your side.

You’re adorned in a flowing dress that sways with every step, its fabric catching the cool breeze of mid-September. Warm boots hug your feet, grounding you as you navigate the lively streets. Yoongi walks beside you, his own boots echoing softly against the cobblestones. He’s dressed in jeans, a fitted shirt, and a cozy jacket that accentuates his broad shoulders. You’re wrapped in a jacket too, its warmth a welcome shield against the evening chill that settles in like a whisper from autumn itself.

The streets pulse with life, alive with throngs of people—mostly the young and inebriated, their laughter loud and words slurred, their steps unsteady as they weave through the neon-lit night. You and Yoongi sip your drinks, savoring the night with a quiet restraint, the alcohol a gentle warmth rather than a dizzying rush. Neon signs bathe the street in a kaleidoscope of colors, each one calling out the names of bars and clubs, their music spilling into the air, a chaotic symphony of bass and beats.

You step into one of the clubs, but the moment you cross the threshold, the music hits you like a wave, overwhelming and disorienting. The crowd presses in, bodies moving in a fevered dance, leaving no room to breathe. You cringe as strangers brush against you, the invasion of your space unsettling. Yoongi’s discomfort mirrors your own, his eyes scanning the room with a protective edge.

Then, a rasping voice invades your ear, the breath hot and unwelcome. “Well, aren’t you a sweet thing,” the man sneers in English, his tone dripping with an arrogance that sends a shiver of unease down your spine. A hand suddenly grabs your ass, and you know instantly—it’s not Yoongi’s.

Anger flares in you, sharp and hot. With a swift, decisive motion, you swat the offending hand away, spinning to face the drunken stranger. His eyes are wide and unfocused, lost in a haze of alcohol. He leans in, but before he can get any closer, Yoongi steps between you, his presence a solid barrier, gently pushing the man back. The stranger grunts, his voice slurred and angry in a language you don’t understand.

Yoongi turns to you, concern etched in the lines of his face, his eyes searching yours for reassurance. You nod, signaling that you’re okay, but just as you turn to leave, a rough hand wraps around your wrist, pulling you back.

Yoongi’s reaction is immediate, but you step in front of him, a surge of determination coursing through you. The stranger’s grip tightens, but you seize his jaw with your free hand, your fingers digging in with a strength born of irritation. You stare into his startled eyes, your voice low and laced with venom. “I don’t appreciate that,” you hiss, each word deliberate. “I’m happily married, and I don’t want you touching me.”

The force in your grip makes him wince, and he releases your wrist, his bravado crumbling as regret flickers across his face. “Fuck. I’m sorry,” he mumbles, the fight leaving him.

You push him back, asserting your anger one final time before turning away, not wasting another second on him. Grabbing Yoongi’s hand, you pull him toward the exit, the need to escape the stifling club overwhelming. Outside, the cold night air fills your lungs, sharp and cleansing, each breath forming small clouds in the chilly atmosphere. The tension begins to melt away, and you savor the fresh, crisp night, grateful for the comforting presence of Yoongi at your side, his warmth a constant reassurance.

“That was kinda hot,” he murmurs, his voice low as he presses his body against yours, the heat of him seeping into your skin. “The way you handled yourself in there, babe.” His lips brush the sensitive skin of your neck, sending shivers down your spine that have nothing to do with the cold.

“Thanks,” you reply, your voice still carrying the edge of disgust from the stranger’s touch. “But it was disgusting. His hands on my ass.”

Yoongi hums in sympathy, his grip on your hand tightening as if to ground you both. “I don’t like other people touching you like that,” he says, his voice filled with a protective anger. “I’m sorry that happened,” he says in a much softer voice, making sure you’re okay.

You chuckle softly, the sound carrying a hint of relief. “Yeah. I know you’re possessive, Yoon.”

“If we’d stayed there a moment longer, I would’ve decked him,” he huffs, the street lamps casting a warm, golden glow on the sidewalk as you walk.

“Oh, I know. But I don’t want you getting arrested in another country—or back home, for that matter,” you laugh lightly, the tension easing from your shoulders. “I had it under control. But thank you for having my back.” You lean in to kiss his cheek, the gesture soft and intimate, and just then, you arrive at the bus station.

The cold air bites at your skin, making you shiver as you wait. Relief washes over you as the bus finally arrives, its doors opening to reveal a sanctuary of warmth. You step inside, the chill of the night giving way to the cozy embrace of heated air. Settling into a seat, you lean against Yoongi’s shoulder, the comfort of his presence grounding you.

“Maybe we’re too old to drink and party,” you muse, your voice a soft murmur that mingles with the hum of the bus.

Yoongi’s laugh is like a melody, soothing and familiar, a sound that feels like home. “Maybe,” he agrees, a teasing glint in his eyes.

“You’re an old man now,” you quip, playfully squeezing his thigh, feeling the solid muscle beneath.

“Hey,” he retorts, mock indignation coloring his tone, “you’re not much younger than me.”

Laughter bubbles up between you, the shared humor easing the tensions of the night. It’s a moment of pure, unfiltered joy, the kind that lingers long after the sound fades.

Back at the caravan, the atmosphere shifts, the night thick with anticipation. A surge of power and desire courses through you, igniting a fire that demands to be quenched. Seizing Yoongi’s jaw with the same assertiveness you’d shown the stranger earlier, you back him against the wall. Your gaze locks onto his, a silent command that he’s all too eager to obey.

With a teasing smile, you lick his chin, tasting the salt of his skin. “I want you, Yoon,” you whisper, your voice a sultry purr that sends shivers down his spine.

His breath hitches, the sound rough and needy. His eyes, darkened with lust, never leave yours as you tighten your grip on his jaw. “I want your tongue on my clit,” you command, the words slipping from your lips like a sinful prayer.

He gulps, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows hard.

“Now,” you add, your voice brooking no argument.

Yoongi doesn’t need to be told twice. He drops to his knees with a reverence that makes your heart race, his hands sliding up your thighs to hike up your dress. The fabric pools around your waist as he tugs down your panties, his breath warm against your bare skin. You giggle in anticipation, the sound light and breathless.

He teases you first, a slow lick that sends sparks of pleasure through your body, followed by a gentle suck that makes you gasp. But then, with a playful glint in his eyes, he spins you around, your legs hitting the bed. You fall onto it with a soft thud, a surprised laugh escaping your lips. Yoongi chuckles darkly, crawling over you like a predator about to claim his prey.

He spreads your legs, the cool air brushing against your slick heat. And then he’s on you, his mouth finding your clit with a precision that makes your toes curl. His plush tongue licks and sucks, each movement sending you higher, closer to the edge. Your hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer as you grind against his mouth, chasing the orgasm that looms just out of reach.

“Fuck, Yoongi,” you pant, your voice a breathless plea as pleasure builds within you, sharp and relentless.

He slurps, the sound obscene and utterly delicious. When you glance down, the sight of him between your legs—his face glistening with your arousal, his eyes alight with desire—undoes you completely. You come apart with a cry, your body trembling as the orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave. Your grip tightens in his hair, holding him to you as he licks you through the aftershocks, his tongue slow and sensual.

When you finally signal it’s enough, he pulls back, his face shining with your essence, drops of it splattered across his cheeks and lips. He looks so fucking hot, and he’s yours—your husband, your love, your everything. The thought swells in your chest, your heart beating a wild rhythm of adoration.

“You’re so hot when you squirt on my face,” he says, his voice husky with satisfaction as he sticks out his tongue to lick at the drops he can reach. The sight makes your pussy flutter with renewed arousal.

“Fuck,” you moan, the need rising in you again. “I want to suck your dick so bad,” you groan, your voice laced with a desperate, aching need.

Yoongi chuckles, a low, rich sound as he stands and begins to undress completely. You watch him, your eyes drinking in every inch of his body, from the strength in his shoulders to the ridges of muscle that ripple under his skin. He’s a vision, raw and powerful, and the sight of him makes your mouth water.

With a look of pure desire, you drop to your knees before him. His hand finds your jaw, his thumb brushing across your cheek with a tenderness that contrasts with the heat in his eyes. “You look so beautiful. Always,” he murmurs, his voice filled with reverence.

His praise sends a thrill through you, your body responding to the way he worships you with his words and his touch. Humming in appreciation, you reach out to grasp his cock, your hand soft as it glides along his length. Precum beads at the tip, slicking your palm as you stroke him.

You stick your tongue out, gathering saliva before you engulf him in the warmth of your mouth. You suck him like a piece of candy, savoring the taste of him, focusing on the sensitive frenulum and the head of his cock.

His hands land on your head, his fingers threading through your hair as he grunts in need. “Fuck,” he pants, his cock twitching in your mouth as you work him over with slow, deliberate movements.

You begin to hum, the vibrations sending shivers of pleasure down his length. You love watching him unravel before you, his control slipping as you bring him closer and closer to the edge. His breaths come faster, his grip tightening in your hair as you take him deeper, your mouth a hot, wet haven that he never wants to leave.

“Babe,” he warns, his voice taut with anticipation, a delicious strain that sends shivers down your spine. He’s closer than you anticipated, but you don’t relent. You want to push him over the edge, to taste his release. He tries to pull you off, his hands trembling, but you bat them away with a determined swat, drawing him closer, deeper. Without intending to, you deepthroat him, and his resistance melts into a soft moan, his legs buckling beneath the weight of his pleasure.

You steady your breath, fighting your gag reflex as you close your eyes and do it again, taking him in as deep as you can, your throat tightening around him. Your free hand moves to his balls, feeling the tension there, the tightness that signals just how close he is. A deep, primal groan escapes you as you pull off with a wet pop, only to engulf him again, your pace quickening with purpose.

You can hear it in his voice, the way he moans your name, each syllable a testament to how close he is to unraveling. His breath comes in ragged gasps, his body trembling with the effort to hold back, but you don’t give him that luxury. You push him closer, until, with a broken cry of your name, he spills into your mouth, the warm, salty liquid hitting your tongue in waves.

You watch his face contort in pure ecstasy, every line and shadow a portrait of his pleasure. When he’s spent, you swallow with a satisfied hum, pressing a teasing kiss to the sensitive tip of his cock, making him shudder with the aftershocks of bliss.

Panting, he runs a hand through his tousled hair, still trying to catch his breath. “You know,” he says, his voice still thick with pleasure, “you’re never gonna get pregnant if I come in your mouth.”

You giggle, a light, airy sound that cuts through the lingering heat between you. “Maybe not,” you concede, “but I love this too, you know. And we should have fun while we try.” You glance down, watching as he slowly softens, your heart swelling with affection for him. Leaning up, you capture his lips in a hungry kiss, pulling him down onto the bed where you eventually drift off to sleep, wrapped in the warmth of each other.

A few days later, a strange ache tugs at your stomach, a sensation that’s unfamiliar, different from the usual pangs of your period. You brush it aside, though, too excited about the day ahead. Today, you and Yoongi are going surfing in a place known as ‘Cold Hawaii’, a name that hints at both adventure and the chill that comes with it. Neither of you knows how to surf, but that’s part of the thrill. You’re determined to make the most of it.

You head to a surf shop called ‘West Wind’, the air bristling with the energy of the ocean and the people who live for it. The shop is alive with the scent of saltwater and waxed boards, the sound of wetsuits being zipped up, and the murmur of excited voices. You rent surfboards and wetsuits, changing in nearby stalls, and then you’re off to the sea, the brisk air nipping at your cheeks, but the excitement in your veins keeps you warm.

The beach is a hive of activity, surfers riding the waves with effortless grace, their movements fluid and synchronized with the rhythm of the sea. Your instructor, a local with a laid-back demeanor, walks you through the basics: how to balance, where to place your feet. He makes it seem so simple, so intuitive, but you know it’s anything but.

When the time comes, you lie chest-down on the board, the cold water lapping at your sides as you wait for the right wave. The instructor’s voice guides you, telling you when to paddle, when to pop up. But it’s harder than it looks. Your first few attempts are clumsy, your legs wobbling as you try to stand, only to topple back into the water with a splash. You can’t help but laugh, the sound bright and carefree, mingling with the roar of the waves.

Yoongi, with his natural grace, seems to get the hang of it quicker. You watch in admiration as he balances perfectly on the board, his posture steady, his movements controlled. But just as you think he’s got it, he loses his balance and tumbles into the water, disappearing beneath the surface for a moment before popping back up, his black hair plastered to his face, a sheepish grin tugging at his lips.

You burst out laughing at the sight, the sound of your mirth carrying over the waves. Even the instructor joins in, chuckling at Yoongi’s comical fall. “That was actually good,” he says encouragingly, his tone warm and supportive. “You should both try again.”

Yoongi moves with an effortless grace, a natural on the board, and you can’t help but scuff lightly, rolling your eyes as you watch him balance perfectly, riding the waves as if he were born to them. His ease draws the instructor’s attention more towards you, his voice a steady mantra in your ear, urging you to paddle, paddle, paddle as the wave swells behind you, to pop up and find your balance before the ocean has a chance to pull you under.

You give it your all, and for one brief, glorious moment, you actually manage to stand, your feet finding purchase on the slick surface of the board. But the victory is fleeting; your balance falters so quickly it feels like whiplash, and the next thing you know, you’re crashing into the water, its cold embrace hitting your face hard. Your palms scrape the sandy bottom, and you sputter, your mouth and nose filled with the sting of salty water. The instructor isn’t fazed in the least, his calm demeanor a testament to his experience, and you tell yourself it’s okay—this is so much harder than it looks.

But you’re determined, your resolve like the tide itself, unwavering and persistent. Again and again, you try, each fall more bruising than the last, the surfboard sometimes feeling like it has a vendetta against you. Yet every time you’re knocked down, you get back up, driven by the desire to conquer at least one wave. Yoongi’s big, beaming smile tells you he’s loving every minute of this, his joy infectious even as you struggle.

“Just try again,” the instructor encourages, his tone unwavering, and you do, despite the toll it’s taking on your body. Your muscles ache, sore from the relentless attempts, and a small part of you wonders how long you’ve been at this. Time feels fluid out here, with the waves as your only measure.

Thankfully, the leash tethering you to the board spares you the task of chasing it down after each tumble, a small mercy in the midst of the challenge. You huff out a breath, catching Yoongi’s comforting gaze, his look of support giving you the strength to try once more.

Lying chest down on the board, you let the water cradle you, feeling the swell of a wave approaching. You paddle with renewed determination, and as the wave lifts you, you pop up, finding your balance. This time, you manage to stand, your feet steady beneath you, and the sensation is nothing short of euphoric. A giddy laugh bubbles up from your chest as you ride the wave, a wide smile splitting your face. “Look! I’m doing it!”

And then, inevitably, you hit the water face-first. But when you surface, it’s with a laugh of pure, unbridled joy. You’ve done it. After countless attempts, after losing track of how many times you’ve tried, you finally rode the wave, if only for a moment. And when you see the pride shining in Yoongi’s eyes, your heart swells with a happiness that makes every fall worth it.

Later, after drying off, you treat yourselves to ice cream, savoring the sweet, cold treat as you sit on the beach, wrapped in your warm jackets. The air is crisp, but the warmth between you is enough to keep the chill at bay. You walk hand in hand back to the caravan, the soft crunch of sand beneath your boots, noticing how many other caravans dot the campground. It’s a bustling scene, alive with the laughter of children running and playing, their joy infectious.

As you watch them, your heart warms, and you can’t help but wonder what it will be like when you have kids of your own. The thought lingers, sweet and tender, like the promise of more beautiful moments to come.

“My feet are so sore, Yoon,” you lament, the weight of the day heavy in each step as you both drag your tired bodies back to the warmth of the caravan.

“Mine too,” he admits with a playful lilt in his voice. “How about we give each other a massage?” The suggestion, though innocent in words, carries a hint of something more, and you feel the familiar embers of desire flicker to life within you.

“Yes, please,” you breathe, your words a soft cloud in the crisp night air. The thought of your hands on him, of his hands on you, sends a thrill through your weary body. You can’t wait to get inside, to feel his touch, to see where this simple act of care will lead.

Once inside, you kick off your shoes with a sigh of relief, the warmth of the caravan wrapping around you like a comforting embrace. You share a quick bite, the soft glow of Yoongi’s phone casting shadows across your faces as something plays in the background, though neither of you pays much attention. It’s just a quiet moment, a pause before the real focus begins.

Settling onto the bed, you both sit up, peeling off your socks with a mix of anticipation and fatigue. The first touch of his hands on your feet makes you release a needy sound, the soreness easing under his skilled fingers. Yoongi lets out a similar groan as you knead the tension from his feet, and the shared intimacy sends a wave of warmth straight to your core.

“This has been a wonderful honeymoon, Yoon,” you murmur, your breath a little unsteady as your fingers dig into the arch of his foot.

He hums in response, pleased and content, his eyes closing briefly before he looks at you, love shining in his gaze. “I’m so happy to hear that. You thought we were going someplace exotic, didn’t you?” He chuckles, pulling his foot back for a moment, ticklish under your touch, but then quickly offers it again, craving the comfort of your hands.

“Yeah, I really did,” you admit, smiling at him. “But this has been so lovely. Thank you.” There’s a softness in your voice, a gratitude that comes from the heart.

“I love you,” you say, the words slipping out easily, a simple truth between you.

“I love you too,” he replies, his voice filled with warmth as he grabs your other foot. The touch of his calloused fingers on your tender skin draws a moan from your lips, your body responding instinctively to his care.

The atmosphere shifts, the once innocent massage now tinged with an undercurrent of desire. Your bodies are tired, but the need simmering between you is undeniable. His eyes darken with hunger as he watches you, and the heat in your core intensifies. Letting go of his foot, you crawl toward him, your lips seeking his in a deep, hungry kiss. Your tongues meet in a dance of passion, and your hands move with urgency, tugging at his clothes, helping him shed his shirt, his warmth pressing against you.

You make quick work of his pants, and he follows suit with yours, leaving you both in nothing but your underwear. The kiss deepens, your lips trailing down his body, tasting the salt of his skin. His hands move over you, and you tremble as he pulls your panties off, the cool air brushing against your wetness, sending shivers down your spine.

Yoongi discards his boxers, his arousal evident, and your body quivers with the need to feel him inside you. He pulls you close, removing your bra with practiced ease, your breasts spilling free. His gaze lingers, filled with lust and love, before he leans down, his lips closing around a nipple. The warmth of his mouth, the swirl of his tongue, sends a jolt of pleasure through you, making your back arch off the bed.

“Yoongi,” you pant, your voice thick with desire as he tends to your other breast, his hand teasing and pulling at your nipple, sending sparks of heat to your pussy.

Your chest heaves with each breath, your body alive under his touch, every nerve ending ignited. His mouth moves from one nipple to the other, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin, and you tug at his hair, urging him closer, deeper.

“Fuck, Yoongi!” you cry out, the pleasure building to a fever pitch as he alternates between your breasts, his fingers and mouth working in tandem to push you over the edge. You could come just from this, and it wouldn’t be the first time. There’s no embarrassment, just raw desire.

“I’m—,” you moan as your orgasm hits you like a freight train, arching your back into his face as you come undone. Your back arches, your body trembling as you come undone beneath him, his name a breathless whisper on your lips as the world fades away, leaving only the two of you in the aftermath of bliss.

A sudden knock on the door steals the breath from your lungs, and you freeze, eyes wide with shock. The intimacy of the moment shatters like fragile glass, and Yoongi, just as startled, pulls away. Instinctively, you reach for him, not wanting the spell to break, your heart pounding like a wild drum in your chest.

But Yoongi, ever the calm in your storm, quickly grabs a towel and wraps it around his waist. The distance between you feels like a chasm as he opens the door, while you remain on the bed, flushed and breathless, your chest heaving, still glistening with the remnants of his kiss.

“Hi,” comes the low murmur of a man’s voice, intruding into your world as Yoongi runs a hand through his tousled hair, trying to steady his breath.

“I’m sorry to disturb you,” the man continues, his tone polite yet firm, “but could you keep it down? My kids are trying to sleep, and it’s getting a bit loud.”

Each word lands like a stone, sinking into the pit of your stomach as mortification blooms within you. The realization that your passion had spilled beyond the walls of your private sanctuary makes you wish the earth would swallow you whole.

“Shit. We’re so sorry,” Yoongi replies, his voice steady and apologetic as he bows slightly, the English words rolling off his tongue with ease. “We’ll be quieter. Sorry again.” With that, he closes the door, and the world narrows back down to just the two of you. For a moment, you just stare at each other, and the air feels thick with unspoken tension and embarrassment. Your breathing is still quick and you feel like you want to disappear, but Yoongi’s eyes ground you, and his soft smile lets you know it’s okay. The silence is stretching on, until Yoongi bursts out laughing, showing his perfect gums, which in turn makes you laugh too. Suddenly, you don’t feel so embarrassed, the laughter making way for the absurdity of the situation to dissipate a bit, and you just giggle, the atmosphere contagious.

He crosses the short distance to the bed, a smirk playing on his lips as he looks down at you, eyes glinting with mischief. “I’d suggest stuffing your mouth with my cock to keep you quiet,” he says, voice a low rumble that sends a shiver down your spine. You barely catch your breath as he adds, “But if you want to get pregnant this cycle, it needs to be in your vagina.”

His words set your heart racing anew, desire pooling hot and urgent within you. You stare at him, feeling the wetness between your thighs grow, your body responding to his every word.

“You’re ovulating, right?” he asks, his voice teasing, but there’s a serious edge to his gaze.

You blink, the realization dawning like a slow sunrise. The ache in your stomach—it all makes sense. “I think I am, yeah,” you murmur, your voice trembling with anticipation.

A devilish smile spreads across his face. “Well,” he clicks his tongue, his eyes darkening with intent, “then I’m going to fuck you, but you’ll have to be silent. There are people sleeping.”

You nod, breath hitching as the room seems to shrink around the two of you.

With a practiced ease, Yoongi discards the towel and returns to the bed, his presence overwhelming as he hovers over you, still hard and ready. He takes himself in hand, giving a few slow pumps before his fingers find your wetness. “You’re so wet,” he murmurs, his voice thick with approval. “Bet I’ll slide right in.”

You bite your lip, suppressing a moan, knowing he’s right.

He aligns himself with your entrance, and with a smooth, unhurried thrust, he’s inside you, filling you completely. The pleasure is instant and intense, but you remember the man’s words, biting into Yoongi’s discarded shirt to stifle your cries.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” Yoongi rasps, his voice strained with the effort of keeping quiet as he begins to move, his pace steady and deep. The sound of your bodies meeting, slick and needy, fills the small caravan, mingling with the quiet grunts and whispered breaths.

With strong hands, he grips your thighs, spreading them wide and lifting them onto his shoulders. His thrusts quicken, each one bringing you closer to the edge, his breath coming in harsh pants as he fights to keep his own volume down.

“This pussy,” he whispers, his voice reverent as he pulls one leg down to reach between your bodies. His fingers find your clit, already swollen and sensitive, and he circles it with expert precision. “It’s mine, and it’s so gorgeous.”

Your vision blurs, your body trembling as a new wave of pleasure builds deep inside. You mumble incoherently into the shirt, but it doesn’t matter—Yoongi knows you’re close, can feel it in the way your walls clench around him.

He keeps his rhythm steady, his fingers teasing your clit while his cock hits that perfect spot inside you. The tension coils tighter and tighter until, with a final, whispered plea of his name, you unravel completely, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. Your body spasms, and you push the shirt out of your mouth, gasping for air as you whisper his name, the sound broken and desperate.

“Fuck, babe,” Yoongi groans, his pace faltering as he chases his own release. The way your body grips him, the way you moan his name—it’s too much. With a low growl, he thrusts deep one last time, his cock throbbing as he spills into you, warmth flooding your walls as he pants your name.

The world narrows to the feeling of him, the heat of his body pressed against yours as he collapses on top of you, both of you breathless and sated. You don’t mind the weight of him, your arms wrapping around his back as you press a tender kiss to his temple.

“I can’t wait to have a baby with you,” he whispers against your skin, his voice soft and filled with love.

“I can’t wait either,” you reply, your voice equally tender as you kiss him again, pouring all the love and gratitude you feel into that simple, sweet gesture.

Taglist: @idkjustlovingbts@constancelayon@wobblewobble822@ktownshizzle@moonchild1 @ultimatefangirl0 @baechugff @jimintaemin @parapiop7 @fckkntired @iluvfndms @citypop-princess @tarahardcore @bergandysam @massivelyfullenthusiast @tatyhend @gimeow @jeonsbabygirlsworld

*I don't know why the fuck the taglist doesn't want to work anymore T_T I hope you all find it anyway!

Author’s note(2): I really hope you liked it! I have two more extras planned for this series and they’re coming soon! Please let me know in a comment, reblog or ask what you liked 💜 And please, remember it’s just fiction.

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