#the pop version of Lost in the Woods

[targaryenluvs]

— OPPOSITES ATTRACT

pairings: clarisse la rue x aphrodite!daughter!reader (romantic) percy jackson x reader (platonic)

summary: the one where percy jackson has to wrap his head around the fact that the nicest person he’s met at camp, is dating clarisse.

warnings: kinda crack ficy in my opinion, fluff, smooches, capture the flag, reader is percy’s saving grace, percy sees the reader as a sister

a/n: i just got inspired okay? ✊🏽

percy’s feet were booming, heard from afar as he ran to the creek’s shore. the ares trio hot on his tail as they chased him down. he knew he couldn’t run forever, he’d have to fight, but how on earth was he going to win against three trained teens?

as if clarisse wasn’t frightening enough already, her scream sent literal chills down percy’s back, guess she really likes spears? he thought to himself.

the sounds of cheers and celebration drew the pairs attention as luke planted the opposing teams flag into the floor. they’d lost. percy felt clarisse’s grip falter, only slightly, but not when she saw the flag, clarisse’s eyes were currently trained on something behind him. more bullies? “there you are! i was waiting for you, wanted to show you my new and improved skills.”

clarisse let go of him and he couldn’t believe it, the rage in her eyes seemed to dissipate the second you came around. you, the sweetest person he’d met here, were friends with that thing?

that thing was capable of feelings?

his jaw dropped at the sight of clarisse’s hands on your cheeks, listening to you ramble on about who you’d fought and defeated in the woods, the pretty butterfly you’d seen. percy’s eyes were so close to popping out of his skull as clarisse kissed you, deeply. then he wanted to vomit as hands traveled and tongues met.

at dinner that night you sat by luke and chris, happily eating away as your hand rested on a book infront of you. “hey perce! come sit down.” you patted the space next to you as he accepted. “what’re you reading?” percy stared at the cover you’d flipped over to display to him, well he wasn’t expecting that. “where’d you get it from?” you pointed towards your girlfriend proudly, “she said she knew i’d like it, isn’t that sweet?”

percy’s weird version of a smile caused you to frown, “your smile is scaring me.” he immediately dropped it as you laughed, causing him to nudge you. “don’t be rude, i’m just a baby.” percy hadn’t felt so comfortable with someone since his mother. you pinched his cheeks, “naw, yes you are.” he swatted your hands away as you giggled, percy stared at you, studying you.

shining eyes, a beaming smile and an enchanting personality, truly a daughter of aphrodite, yet you dated clarisse. it didn’t make sense in his head, but from what little scenes he’d seen between the two of you, if you were happy than he was too, “what do you see in clarisse? why are you with someone so—” you turned to look his way, percy was worried you’d be offended.

but of course you weren’t, “because i like her percy, and she likes me. she’s absolutely gorgeous, if she wasn’t already a daughter of ares or i didn’t know? for sure aphrodite. and, people are always misunderstood, just because someone seems like a bad person, doesn’t mean they are. when clarisse and i are together, i see the best parts of her, always. i love her regardless, but there’s obviously things that you don’t tell everybody you just meet, or if you aren’t super comfortable with a person then you won’t show all the parts of yourself. i think, when you love someone you accept all parts of them, the good, the bad, the worst. you love someone despite their flaws. clarisse is good to me, and i like her, that’s all that matters. you’ll understand when you find someone yourself perce.”

he sat still, raking over your words in his head, “if one person can feel that way about someone else, they’d explode.” you laughed at his words, he was still young of course, he’d understand soon, you had a feeling. “i’d happily explode because of how much i love her.” you glanced back at her, only she wasn’t there.

“well i don’t want you to explode, i do want to spend my night with you.” clarisse stood behind you with her arms crossed, you could see percy tense up at her presence. with your hand on his, and your eyes reassuring him, he smiled, “i’m happy for you, but if she try’s anything i’m more than happy to beat her ass for you even if i’m broken in half.”

clarisse couldn’t hear his whispers, thank god. your smile was small, placing a hand on his shoulder, you kissed percy’s forehead, “my protector, now no one can try anything with me huh? thank you perce, if you need anything here at camp, or if you just want to talk and eat those blue foods of yours—” his arms wrapped around your neck tightly as you recovered from the force.

“thank you.”

“any day perce, any time.”

and percy sat back, watching the two of you walk away hand in hand. a clear thought rung through his head.

opposites attract.

[little-fae-hero]

Linked Universe, The Hero of Time

my headcanons/aus

Art by Atro Avis

Colored version.

Long talk/Ideas under the cut, warning for slight body horror and dark fae topics. (Note: I may add stuff over time, but nothing will be deleted from the list)

Twilight. Wind. Legend. Hyrule. Four. Sky. War. Wild.

Time (Ocarina of Time/Majora’s Mask). Other nicknames: Mask, Sprite, Old man, Pops.

Titles: Hero of Time, Hero of the Kokiri, Hero of Mask, Hero of Termina, The Hero’s Shade. The Changed Kokiri

God who has claim over his soul: Kishin (Fierce Deity)

Part of First’s soul: Thoughtfulness

Note: Also appears in Hyrule Warriors. Is responsive for the first timeline break:

Fallen timeline - never grows when picking up the master sword and ends up dead because the energy of the fight was too much on his body.

Child timeline - Where he went through Oot and was sent back. So, to everyone he just got the gems and as a kid with visions warn of the outcome. (twilight princess)

Adult timeline - this was the timeline where he defeated Ganon as an adult, it was abandoned after (Wind Waker).

History:

Time is not human at all, though he looks like it. He is a Kokiri, a child of the fae and once leaving the forest, he’s considered a changeling. His mother is Navi, though she wasn’t by his side for most of his ‘childhood’ as she was sent on mission by the great deku tree.

Being sent on his adventure after the great Deku tree’s death, he and Navi leave the forest (much to Navi and the other kokiris horror). And start the journey from Oot, the only difference is Time has a full-on panic when he wakes up as an adult, because he knows physically, he’s a kokiri. Even after the events of Oot, he is never fully the same, this isn’t helped when Navi leaves his side for a moment, and he can’t find her. As he goes to find her, he ends up in Termina and ends up in a hellish time loop. Time is unsure how long he was in this loop, so his age mentally is completely unknown. Eventually he succeeds, however he doesn’t get time to rest as he is immediately sent to the Era of War (Hyrule Warriors), with skull kid and others. He ends up growing close to the Link from that era and he learns a lot about him before he is sent back. He never goes back to the Kokiri forest, for fear he wasn’t Kokiri anymore and the lost woods would transform him.

After being sent back to his time, he ends up living at Lon Lon Ranch, going on small adventures before marrying Malon.

His death: Time is sent somewhere for a war and ends up wounded in the lost woods. He’s injured with a metal mix that is poisonous to kokiri . Knowing what awaits him, Time holds onto his regret, which would keep him as a ghost on the world. The biggest regret was leaving behind someone he was protecting, never fulfilling the promise to see him again.

Interest stuff/Head canons:

Kokiri's are children of Fae who have yet to decide what they want to be, they are adaptable to everything, hence why they mainly take on human children or little tree children.

The sharp teeth, claws and inhuman eyes are typically just a defense to keep humans away, the biggest difference being their blood and tears proving they are not human.

Time’s teeth and nails are still sharp, he just actively keep them trimmed or filed down so others won’t freak out

Typically, the guardian fairies are the ones to protect the kokiris however they can use their teeth and claws if needed.

Although It’s discouraged for any Kokiri to experience or cause harm from the old saying ‘not to spill blood in the forest, as the tree will remember and crave it’, and blood and flesh will have to become a part of diet to grow up healthy (so Time eats a lot more meat then most).

Time was very much afraid of dying from leaving the forest, he was reassured that having the gem and his mother would keep him alive and healthy. It’s why he hunts for Navi so much after Oot, and later so heavily used to Fierce deity mask in HW. He now knows he doesn’t need it (the mark FD gave him is enough), but he still wears the gem as comfort.

He still hopes to see Navi one day, maybe just for comfort.

Because of his Kokiri/Fae nature and his ability to adapt, he took on aspects from each of the transformation masks, most are hidden from sight.

The Deku scrub has left Time’s insides to be a network of roots and vines rather than veins, this does allow him to heal faster. The Goron has transformed his bones to rock, as well as the heat not affecting him, he could stick his hand in lava if the vines didn’t scream in pain. Zora already improved his musical ability (fae song) but also has added scales and the ability to breathe underwater. The FD has added his height, the marking that married his face and eye as well as his unnerving and unreadable magic signature.

However Time does his best to hide his inhuman features, it’s why he doesn’t take off his bottom layer of clothes. Only the FD mark can be seen.

Time's blind eye acts like the lens of truth times 100, however he keeps it close because of the information overload.

Time loves Malon, and always dreams of having a family with her, but he always fears what his inhuman genes might do to the kid. Twilight, who shares so many traits with him and Malon, eases these worries.

He is very experienced and physically is the oldest.

However, he does just enough odd stuff that the closer you look at him and his behavior, the more you're on edge.

He can speak Hylian, Zora, Goron and Deku really well, but all sound very stiff and formal. Fae is the only one he speaks naturally though it's been getting rusty as he mostly speaks Hylian.

He still has a lot of childlike mischief still left, so he not above pulling pranks, but mainly harmless ones considering he’s the voice of reason.

Time's favorite food are sweet treats. He has stolen many cookies.

He still has all his masks, and while he does show them to the group. The transformation mask never leaves his bag. Despite the FD mask being the only one with a soul left, it feels off to let anyone mess with the Goron, Deku or Zora.

Time’s eye glows in darkness.

He gave himself the scar over his eye.

He has a tattoo on his shoulder from the Goron’s back home. It’s just never seen sense he doesn’t take off his shirt.

Because of Termina, Time can keep time down to the second, day and night.

—

Hope you enjoy my dive into madness, hehehe

[butchsucker]

THREE'S A CROWD (dina is pretty certain her girlfriend's best friend is jealous. she has an idea on how to fix that.)

pairing: ellie/dina/abby

contents: dom!dina, sub!abby, switch!ellie, threesome, childhood friends!ellabs, established relationship!dellie, unrequited feelings that are not unrequited, getting together, pussy eating, strap-on use, finger fucking, face sitting, scissoring, they all have two hands for a reason!

word count: 8,370

Dina can't prove it, but she's reasonably sure Abby wants to fuck her girlfriend.

Not just in a fleeting, passing-thought kind of way either. No, Dina suspects it's deeper than that. Something closer to devotion. Maybe even the slow, aching kind of love people write songs about. But all she has to go on is vibes and gut instinct. Circumstantial evidence. Nothing she'd take to court, but enough to keep her attention trained.

It's in the way Abby always finds reasons to need Ellie—stuff she could obviously handle herself. Picking up furniture. Running errands. Driving out to grab mulch or soil or god-knows-what for her garden. She always phrases it like she’s doing Ellie a favor, like Ellie is the one who'd be lost without her, but Dina sees through it. Sees how easily the two of them slide back into their rhythm—private jokes passed over Dina’s head, stories with gaps filled by shared memory, the kind of shorthand that only exists between people who’ve known each other long enough to see every version of the other.

At first, Dina thought it was sweet. Cute, even. She knows they’ve been close since forever, thick as thieves since middle school or whatever. Survived heartbreaks, bad haircuts, car crashes, college parties, all of it. That kind of bond doesn’t just go away. She gets that.

But the real giveaway is how Abby looks at Ellie. Soft, unguarded, like her whole chest cracks open when Ellie laughs too hard or sings along to the radio off-key. And Dina doesn't even think Abby realizes it. Doesn’t know she wears her heart on her damn face every time Ellie walks into the room.

Still, Dina doesn’t get mad. Not really. Not when she doesn't need to be.

She and Ellie are more than solid. Solid enough to have dabbled in the occasional three-way and remained exactly the same. Abby would be a different story entirely, though. Messy and unpredictable and entirely impossible to extricate from their lives.

So Dina lets it be. Doesn't poke the sleeping dog.

Not until Ellie asks her to come along on the summer trip.

It’s a tradition, she's learned—two weeks every July up at Abby’s family farmhouse. Just the two of them. Fresh air, hiking trails, river swims. A little cabin in the woods where they go to "connect with nature"—Ellie’s words, not hers. Dina’s seen the pictures, though. Golden light. Dusty porches. Ellie with a tan that makes her freckles pop and this relaxed grin she doesn’t wear in the city. She always comes back looking kissed by sunlight and hungry in a way that only Dina gets to satisfy.

It’s Dina’s favorite time of year for entirely selfish reasons.

So when Ellie says, out of nowhere, “You wanna come along this year?” while curled up with her head on Dina’s stomach, it throws her a little.

Dina pauses, her fingers stilled in Ellie’s hair. “You sure?”

Ellie nods without hesitation. “Yeah. I think you’d like it. There’s horses.”

“Hm.” Dina arches a brow, still half-scanning her phone. “Tempting. But I don’t think Abby’s gonna be thrilled.”

Ellie frowns. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Dina drawls, dragging her fingers lightly through Ellie’s hair, “I’ll be cutting into her precious Ellie time. She already doesn’t like me.”

“What?” Ellie props herself up enough to kiss her. “Abby loves you, babe.”

Dina raises a skeptical brow.

“No, seriously,” Ellie insists. “She thinks you’re cool as hell. You’re, like, scientifically impossible to dislike. Mathematically and shit.”

"Shut the fuck up," Dina says, laughing. "I mean, fine. If it's cool with you guys, I could do with some fresh air."

A few weeks pass in the slow, steady creep of real life. Work, errands, dinner dates, laundry. But the trip starts bleeding into everything. Ellie keeps texting Abby in bursts, group chat blowing up with hiking trail suggestions and “Should we bring board games or is that lame?” polls, like she isn’t absolutely bringing board games no matter what anyone says.

Dina finds that Abby is a lot friendlier via text than she is in person. Distantly, she considers if she's just shy.

They spend a whole Sunday packing, or trying to. Ellie gets distracted every fifteen minutes, trying to wrestle Dina onto the bed or suggestively leaning against the door way in invitation. Dina eventually has to bribe her with placating kisses and the promise of road trip playlists to get any actual work done.

Their cat—Joel Jr., a fuzzy little tyrant Ellie found in a box behind a diner two years ago—watches from the windowsill with the usual amount of disdain. They find a sitter on Rover who seems nice enough, and Dina leaves an overly detailed note just in case. She’s not worried about the cat. She’s worried about Ellie worrying about the cat.

The week before they leave, Dina catches herself double-checking her own packing list way more than she usually would. Extra socks, tampons, charging cables, extra film for her camera. Sunscreen. Strap.

It’s probably overkill.

It’s definitely overkill.

Before she knows it, they’re piling everything into Abby’s Jeep. Ever the chivalrous type, Abby hoists their bags into the trunk without a word of complaint. Ellie offers to help exactly once before getting distracted by the snack bag and putting dibs on all her favorite additions.

Somehow Dina ends up in the front seat. She half-expects Ellie to argue for it, but she's content to sprawl in the back and play DJ.

The drive’s a long one, just under five hours, and for the first half Dina’s animated, chatting, laughing, stealing sips of Ellie’s gas station soda. But eventually the sun and motion lull her into quiet. She dozes off somewhere past the halfway mark, boots tucked up on the dash. When she wakes, the Jeep is bumping up a gravel driveway, and Ellie’s flannel is folded under her head like a makeshift pillow. She doesn’t remember asking for it.

They pull up to the farmhouse just as the sun starts its lazy descent behind the trees, drenching everything in soft gold. The house is bigger than Dina expected—two stories with white paneling and navy shutters, a wide wrap-around porch, and a side garage. Stables sit a short walk away, nestled at the base of a low, grassy hill. A horse neighs in the distance like it’s welcoming them. It's very hallmark postcard.

Abby parks with the practiced ease of someone who’s done this a hundred times, then hops out and opens the trunk like a damn valet. “Rooms are the same as always,” she calls out as she grabs her own duffel. Dina nods like she knows what that means and lets Ellie lead the way.

The inside of the house smells like wood polish and linen. Cool despite the heat. Dina drags her suitcase upstairs while Ellie pokes around, flipping on lights, shouting commentary over her shoulder about what Jerry's changed around since last year.

Their room is cozy, all sun-washed walls and an old ceiling fan that creaks a little when Dina gives the chain a tug. There’s a double bed pushed up against the window and a bookshelf crammed with paperbacks and dusty board games.

Ellie kicks off her sneakers and immediately sprawls out, arms flung wide like she owns the place. Dina sits beside her, peeling off her jacket and letting her eyes fall shut for a minute. They lie like that for a while, trading lazy kisses, bodies barely touching, soaking in the silence.

It’s peaceful. Disarmingly so.

Until Abby calls up the stairs, “Lake in thirty, pack whatever you need!”

Dina blinks her eyes open and groans dramatically. “We just got here.”

Ellie nudges her thigh with a socked foot. “Abby's big on doing stuff. You'll get used to it.”

“Fiiine,” Dina grumbles, but she’s already unzipping her bag.

She changes into her swimsuit and throws a sheer cover-up on over it. Ellie’s not subtle about watching her. Not even a little. By the time they’re downstairs, Ellie’s hand is hovering at the small of her back, fingertips brushing bare skin under the hem of the cover.

“You look ridiculous right now,” Ellie murmurs, eyes tracing her legs.

“Ridiculously hot?”

“Obviously.”

By the front door, Dina presses Ellie up against the wall, grinning as she steals a kiss. Ellie kisses back eagerly, hands skimming her hips like she’s got nowhere else to be.

Then someone clears their throat. Loudly.

They break apart to find Abby standing near the doorway with a folded towel under one arm and a cooler in the other. There’s a very specific kind of pink blooming across her cheekbones and the tips of her ears.

Dina smirks. “We’re coming, don’t get your swimsuit in a twist.”

Abby rolls her eyes and turns away, muttering something that sounds like unbelievable under her breath.

Dina catches Ellie’s gaze and raises a brow. “Looks like someone's jealous.”

Ellie snorts, grabs the sunscreen, and says, “You’re a menace.”

“Not denying it.”

The lake’s maybe a ten-minute walk downhill, tucked into a little clearing with a rickety wooden dock stretching out over still water. There’s a few plastic Adirondack chairs pulled up near the edge, clearly weathered from years of use, and rope tied securely to a tree for swinging.

The sun’s low now, casting everything in that buttery, pre-sunset glow. Dina feels a little like she’s wandered into a stock photo for "summer getaway."

Abby kicks open the cooler and tosses them beers, except for Ellie—who gets a tall can of something aggressively pink with cartoon fruit on it.

“What in the Lisa Frank hell is that?” Dina asks, eyebrow raised as she cracks her beer.

“Passionfruit lime vodka spritz,” Abby says, straight-faced. “Your girlfriend likes to cosplay being a beer drinker. That's actually her fave.”

Ellie snorts. “Don’t knock it ‘til you taste it.”

Dina gives her a look. “Abby, that is dangerously girlfriend material behavior.”

Abby shrugs and settles into a chair, stretching her long legs out. “It’s just being a good friend.”

“Mm-hm. Sure.”

Abby tips her beer up to hide a smirk, which only encourages Dina more.

Ellie, clearly bored of being the center of attention, starts digging through her bag for rolling papers. “They taste even better after one of these,” she says, laying everything out in her lap like she’s setting up camp.

Her fingers move with practiced ease, fast and a little showy, and Dina watches her for a minute, openly admiring the casual hotness of it all.

Once the joint’s rolled and lit, Ellie takes the first hit and leans back with a satisfied sigh. “Here,” she says, handing it off to Abby.

Dina watches with interest. “I thought you didn't smoke, Abby.” She recalls the few times Abby has turned down the offer.

Abby takes it without hesitation, puffing like it's nothing new. “Special occasion,” she replies after exhaling, voice a little rougher.

Ellie snickers. “Yeah, this is her two-week sabbatical from being a functional adult.”

Dina grins, already turning that over in her mind. “Oh? You get bad?”

Abby shrugs again, but her ears are starting to go red. “Not that bad.”

Ellie’s already halfway to giggling. “Last year, she got so drunk I found her passed out in the stables.”

“That was one time,” Abby says, flustered now, and Dina could absolutely bottle this feeling. She lives for how easy it is to get under her skin. Easier than Ellie, which is saying something.

"Don't let Ellie make fun of you," Dina says, shaking her head. "This is the same girl who got drunk and cried because I was asleep. In the same house as her."

Ellie shoves her lightly. "Don't go spilling all my embarrassing secrets like that. I have a reputation to uphold."

"You get weepy," Abby says with a shrug. "That's a well-known secret."

And for while that's the energy, a comfortable back and forth and swapping of playful jabs and reminiscing. Dina can already see why Ellie loves taking this trip.

Eventually, Dina pushes up out of her chair and stretches with a lazy groan. “I’m swimming,” she announces. “Before I drink more and forget how to use my legs.”

“I’ll come,” Abby says, already standing.

Ellie barely cracks an eye open. “Have fun.”

They don’t even look at each other before both Abby and Dina say, in perfect unison, “Put your sunscreen on.”

"That was so fucking freaky," Ellie says, shuddering dramatically. “The sun’s barely out.”

Dina pads over, pops the cap on the bottle, and smears a dollop on her fingertips. “But it is out. Yes?” She straddles Ellie’s thighs and starts rubbing it into her face, despite the way she twists and turns to get away.

Dina only backs off when she's satisfied with her job.

Ellie mutters something rude and takes another sip of her drink.

By the time they make it to the dock, Dina’s peeled off her cover-up.

She dives in, cool water rushing over her skin like a jolt. When she surfaces, Abby’s already in behind her, slicking her hair back with both hands. The two of them float for a while in peaceful silence, accompanied only by the faint chirp of insects and the occasional flow of water.

“This is really beautiful,” Dina says, softer now, just for Abby.

Abby glances over at her and offers a lazy smile. “Yeah. I like it here," she says. "I'm glad you could make it."

“Thanks for inviting me,” Dina adds, and it’s honest. “I know it was probably a little weird.”

Abby pauses, then: “Ellie said…you thought I didn’t like you.”

Dina blinks, surprised by the directness. “Fuckin' Ellie," she says with an exasperated laugh.

“I do like you. For the record,” Abby says, and it’s quiet, but not hesitant. “You’re really cool. And I'm sorry if I made you feel like I didn't think so.”

Dina floats for a second, just letting that settle in. Letting herself absorb how sincere it is.

She’s going to ask Ellie if she wants to fuck Abby. Together. Like, tonight. Okay. Maybe tonight is a bit much.

“Thanks,” Dina says, her tone light and unreadable. “You’re alright, too. Definitely not as cool as me, but that's a high bar.”

-

Dina wakes to the gentle hush of morning, the kind that feels like the house itself is still half-asleep. Pale sunlight filters in through gauzy curtains, warm across the blanket tangled around her legs. Ellie’s still out cold beside her, sprawled face-down and mouth-open, one arm slung across the empty side of the bed like she was reaching for her in her sleep.

It makes Dina smile, fond and stupid, and she kisses the back of Ellie’s shoulder before slipping out from under the covers.

She pads quietly through the upstairs hall, trying not to step on the one floorboard that creaks, and makes her way down to the kitchen, stretching as she goes. Her body feels good—well-rested, loose from yesterday’s swim.

She’s expecting to find the kitchen dark and empty, but there’s already a faint clink of ceramic and the rich smell of coffee wafting through the space.

Abby’s perched at the kitchen island, fully dressed like she’s been up for hours. Her braid is neat and tight, not a single hair out of place, and she’s hunched slightly over her phone, scrolling with the kind of practiced thumb-swipe that says she’s not even really reading.

“Wow,” Dina says, voice low but smug as she rounds the corner. “Up, dressed, caffeinated? What time do you usually wake up, soldier?”

Abby jumps and nearly knocks her coffee over.

Dina grins. “Shit, sorry. Didn't mean to spook you.”

Abby sets her mug down with a soft thunk and gives her a withering look that fails to land. “You're up early."

“Always am,” Dina says, moving toward the counter. “Ooh is that coffee?”

Abby leans back against the counter, arms crossed, and nods toward the machine. “Want me to make you some?”

“Sweet and creamy,” Dina says, cheeky. “Like me.”

Abby actually snorts. It's a full-on, nose-wrinkling thing and Dina feels a small burst of pride about it.

“Sweet and creamy,” Abby echoes under her breath, already grabbing a second mug and pouring carefully. She slides it over once it’s been sufficiently doctored, with sugar and that hazelnut creamer Dina spotted in the fridge yesterday.

Dina sips, makes a satisfied little hum, and hops up to sit on one of the stools at the island. “Mm. You're the best, Abby.”

“I do what I can,” Abby mutters, sipping her own and finally setting her phone down. “Ellie still out?”

“Dead to the world,” Dina confirms, swinging her legs slightly. “It's almost impressive how long she can sleep.”

Abby's mouth lifts in the corners a bit. "Yeah."

There’s a comfortable quiet that settles between them, filled with nothing but birdsong and the tick of the old clock on the wall. It’s easy, surprisingly so, and Dina lets it be for a moment before asking, “You got any plans for today?”

Abby shrugs, running her thumb around the rim of her mug. “I usually hike in the mornings. There’s a trail behind the stables—nothing intense. Just gets the blood flowing.”

Dina arches a brow. “A sunrise hike and black coffee? I see why Joel like you so much."

“Oh god, not you, too.” Abby says flatly.

"Fine, I'll leave you alone, grandpa." Dina grins. “You ever get Ellie on these little hikes?”

“She’s allergic to uphill,” Abby replies dryly. “She’ll do it if I bribe her, but mostly she just sleeps in.”

Dina nods thoughtfully. “Well, I wouldn’t mind tagging along. If you don’t mind having me.”

Abby blinks once, like she wasn’t expecting that.

“I mean, unless this is a sacred alone time sort of thing,” Dina adds, tone light but probing.

“No. No, it’s not. I’d like the company,” Abby says, too quickly. She clears her throat. “If you’re sure.”

“Positive,” Dina says, finishing her coffee. “But I’m not doing cardio on an empty stomach. Feed me first, and I’ll consider it.”

Abby, ever the provider, throws together a quick breakfast for them. Dina offers to help and is immediately shooed away, so she perches on the counter and steals berries while Abby cooks.

They eat at the island again, easy and quiet, Abby already having pulled out a plate and slid it into the microwave for Ellie, like she’s done it a hundred times. Dina pretends not to clock the domesticity of it.

Afterward, she hops into the shower upstairs, savoring the water pressure and the citrusy shampoo Abby must use (which she definitely, absolutely does not steal a handful of). She gets dressed—bike shorts, tank top, zip-up hoodie tied around her waist—and throws the essentials into a small backpack. Sunscreen. Water. Bug spray.

They set out through the stables, the trailhead just past a crumbling old fence. The path is mostly shaded, winding gently uphill with patches of sunlight peeking through the trees. The air is crisp and clean, smelling like pine and fresh dirt. Birds chirp, bugs buzz.

They fall into an easy rhythm. Dina’s not much for morning conversation, but Abby talks just enough to fill the quiet—commenting on the plants, pointing out deer tracks, telling her about the one time a raccoon tried to follow her home.

They talk about movies, music, stupid high school shit. Ellie comes up more than once, always with this unspoken fondness hovering in the background. But it’s not just Ellie. It’s them. Dina and Abby, side by side, feet kicking up dust and shoulders occasionally bumping. It feels natural. Surprisingly so.

At the peak, the trees fall away to a wide overlook, revealing miles of rolling green hills and the glitter of the lake far below. They stand there for a moment, catching their breath.

“Okay,” Dina says, pulling out her phone. “Picture time.”

Abby blinks at her. “Want me to take it for you?”

Dina rolls her eyes. "No, idiot. Get in here."

Abby hesitates—adorably, of course—before leaning in. Dina snaps a few, flicking through until she finds the one she likes.

She sends it to Ellie with the caption: proof of life. also, ur gf is a surprisingly tolerable hiking buddy.

Ellie replies in seconds: dina pls. if she's anybody's gf rn, it's urs.

also i cannot believe u let her drag u on the torture trail.

Dina: joke’s on you. i volunteered.

Ellie: psycho behavior. come back. i’m bored.

Dina laughs under her breath and tucks her phone away. “Ellie says we’re psychos.”

“She’s not wrong,” Abby says, stretching her arms overhead, shirt rising just enough to reveal toned muscle and a trail of skin that Dina absolutely does not ogle. For too long.

They start the descent, chatting about what they’ll do for lunch and how Ellie is probably still in bed. And then Dina steps weird on a loose bit of rock—her ankle rolls and pain shoots up her leg, sharp and sudden.

“Shit—fuck—” she gasps, catching herself on a nearby tree.

Abby’s on her in a heartbeat, crouched in front of her like some disaster-response. “Hey, hey—what happened?”

“My ankle has betrayed me,” Dina says through clenched teeth, trying to breathe through it. “God, I am so pissed. I was doing great.”

“Can I see?”

Dina nods, and Abby reaches out—huge hands gentle as she cups her foot and peels off her sneaker. Her palm wraps around Dina’s ankle entirely, warm and firm and careful, and Dina almost blacks out for an entirely different reason.

“Not swelling,” Abby mutters. “Not hot to the touch. Probably just strained.”

Dina makes a sound that is absolutely not a whimper. “You’re very competent.”

Abby blinks up at her. “Uh. Thanks?”

“I’m just saying,” Dina continues, trying for casual and failing. “You're like the first person I've ever met who I could describe with the word dreamy.”

Abby’s ears go pink again.

After helping her back up, Abby wordlessly takes Dina’s bag from her and slings it over one shoulder. She slows her pace on the way back, always staying just half a step beside her, offering a hand when the path gets uneven.

By the time they make it back to the house, Dina’s ankle is just sore enough to be annoying. Not bad enough to limp dramatically, but noticeable if you know what to look for—and of course, Ellie does.

She’s padding down the stairs in a sleep-rumpled t-shirt and boyshorts, hair a mess, a half-eaten protein bar in her hand. The second her eyes land on Dina’s gait, she frowns.

“Why are you walking like someone’s dad who just mowed the lawn?”

Dina smirks, easing herself onto the couch. “Wow. Thanks, babe. I twisted my ankle a little on the trail.”

Ellie’s brows shoot up. “What the fuck? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Dina assures her. “Just sore.”

Ellie points a dramatic finger. “Sit. Don’t move.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Dina says, dropping back against the cushions with a sigh. “I feel so cared for.”

Ellie disappears into the kitchen and calls out, “Honestly surprised Abby didn’t insist on carrying you down in her arms. She loves showing off."

Dina’s halfway through a laugh when Abby’s voice floats down the hallway, dry and just loud enough. “Bold of you to say that when you literally whined and begged until I carried you down last time. Nothing was even wrong with you.”

Ellie freezes mid-step with two water bottles and a bag of chips in hand. “That’s slander.”

“Uh-huh,” Abby replies from the stairs.

Dina bursts out laughing, especially at the scandalized look on Ellie’s face.

“I was tired,” Ellie insists, handing Dina the water. “And my feet hurt. And I was on my period.”

“You were being a big baby,” Abby says, already disappearing into the bathroom.

Ellie glares in her direction. “I hope you slip in the shower, traitor.”

Abby flips her off before the door swings shut, and Dina is thoroughly entertained.

“You guys are ridiculous,” she says, cracking open the water bottle.

“You knew what this was when you signed up,” Ellie grins, then crouches at the end of the couch and takes Dina’s ankle into her hands. “Seriously though, does it hurt a lot?”

“Nah. It’s already better,” Dina says, watching Ellie’s fingers rub gently at the skin just above her sock. “You’re such a good nurse. This is why I keep you around.”

“Yeah, I’m very versatile,” Ellie deadpans. “Like a Swiss Army girlfriend.”

Dina laughs again, her smile lingering—until the moment stretches just long enough to shift from soft to weighted. She eyes Ellie, thumb lazily running over her knuckles, and decides not to waste time dancing around it.

“So,” she starts casually, “how would you feel about fucking Abby?”

Ellie blinks. “Jesus, Dina.”

“What?” She asks, giggling.

Ellie sits back a little, mouth twitching like she’s fighting a grin. “What the hell happened on that hike?”

Dina shrugs, smirking. “Nothing, really. The thought came to me, and it would be a mutually beneficial series of orgasms.”

“You're so benevolent.”

“I know right?” Dina agrees. “It's like, at first I thought she just wanted you but my eyes have been opened."

Ellie raises her brows. “I mean, she isn't exactly subtle. The acts of service really give her away every time.”

“Exactly,” Dina says, pointing at her.

Ellie chews on her bottom lip thoughtfully. “I mean...yeah, I’d be down. She’s hot. I’ve always said that.”

“You're so easy, El,” Dina teases.

“For you? Hell yeah." Ellie says, jerking her chin in the direction of the bathroom. "Abby on the other hand, not so much. There’s no way she goes for it.”

“Oh, ye of little faith,” Dina says, resting her head back against the couch. “Watch and learn.”

Ellie laughs. “You're so hot when you're hatching plans.”

“Thank you,” Dina says with a grin. “I try.”

-

Their two weeks at the farmhouse pass in a haze of sunlight and slow mornings. Lake days bleed into barefoot evenings, skin sun-warmed and speckled with freckles. They ride horses out through tall grass trails, pack picnic lunches with too much bread and not enough utensils, and get used to the constant soundtrack of cicadas and distant birdsong. Nights are for shared meals and low conversation, the occasional competitive game of cards or dominoes, and one particularly tipsy bonfire where Ellie regales them with (badly) improvised songs on her guitar.

Dina’s favorite is “Dina’s Nice Rack.”

By all accounts, it’s kind of perfect.

And now it’s their last night.

Dina knows, almost from the beginning, that she’s going to wait for this exact moment. One final evening, when the comfort is thick and earned, and whatever happens doesn’t have to be carried awkwardly into another breakfast or trail ride. If it goes bad, they’ll pack up and pretend it never happened. If it goes well…well. They’ll figure that out later.

She finds Abby in the den, curled into the worn leather couch, watching something she clearly isn’t invested in. Her chin’s propped on one fist, the other hand slowly demolishing a bowl of kettle corn.

“Hey,” Dina says, casually leaning in the doorway. She’s dressed for bed—or something like it—in just a black bralette and underwear, a thin robe tied over it all. A treat for later, maybe. For now, she plays it casual.

Abby looks up. “Hey.”

“You wanna come play a game?” Dina asks, tilting her head. “Ellie and I are doing truth or drink, but it’s not as fun with just two people.”

Abby arches a brow, skeptical. “Truth or drink?”

“It’s like truth or dare for people who are too lazy to do dares. A little baring of the soul, if you will.” Dina grins, all teeth and trouble.

Abby hesitates for a beat, then shrugs. She sets the popcorn aside and stands. “Sure. Why not?”

The farmhouse creaks underfoot as they climb the stairs. The bedroom Ellie and Dina have claimed is warm with lamplight and smells faintly of eucalyptus and sandalwood. Ellie’s already sprawled across the bed in boxers and a ribbed tank top, hair piled messily on her head, one knee hitched as she scrolls lazily through her phone. She looks up when they enter and grins like she’s been expecting this all night.

“Look who I found,” Dina announces, voice sing-song.

Ellie’s grin widens. “Knew you’d cave.”

Abby gives her a dry look as she toes off her shoes. “Didn’t realize I was being hunted.”

“Oh, Abby,” Ellie says, tossing her phone aside, “always assume you’re being hunted.”

Dina snorts and pats the mattress. “Come on, sit. You’re in the middle. Ellie gets wandering hands.”

Abby hesitates again, visibly debating whether she’s about to make a poor life choice. Then she climbs up, careful but casual, and settles between them—clearly trying not to think too hard about the fact that Dina is basically in lingerie and Ellie’s arm rests on Abby's thigh like an armrest.

Dina smiles to herself and reaches for the little tray on the nightstand, where three short glasses sit already filled with mixed drinks. Sweet with a kick, just enough to blur the edges if things get sharp.

“It’s peach tea and whiskey,” Dina says, settling cross-legged on the bed with a satisfied little wriggle. “Don’t look so scared.”

“I’m not scared,” Abby replies, taking a sip.

Ellie raises a brow. “That sounds like something a scared person would say.”

“Alright,” Dina interrupts, clapping once. “Ground rules: answer honestly or take a drink. No skipping, no whining, no pleading the fifth.”

“And no deflecting with a question,” Ellie adds, still lounging like a smug little cat.

“Got it.” Abby leans back against the headboard and crosses her arms.

“Okay,” Dina says, leaning forward. “Ellie, you start. Make it a good one.”

Ellie grins, toothy and mischievous, and turns to Abby. “Alright, Abs. When’s the last time you got off?”

Abby chokes slightly on her drink. “Wow.”

Dina throws her head back laughing. “Straight to the filth. No foreplay.”

“I don’t waste time,” Ellie says with a shrug. “So?”

Abby’s ears are definitely pink. She glances at her drink like she might use it as a shield, but then shrugs. “Couple nights ago. Shower.”

“Ohhh,” Dina coos. “Quick clean up. Efficient.”

“Don’t ask what I was thinking about,” Abby mutters, mostly to her glass.

“Oh, we’re definitely circling back to that,” Ellie says. “But go ahead. Your turn.”

Abby exhales, clearly trying to seem unaffected. “Fine. Dina. Have you ever had a threesome?”

Dina doesn’t blink. “Yes.”

Ellie grins, looking very happy with herself. “I was there!”

“Last time was a while ago,” Dina adds with a shrug. “Roommate. Bad idea. Don’t recommend.”

Abby’s face is unreadable, but her hand tightens just a little on her glass.

Ellie nudges her. “Are you really surprised? Don’t be surprised.”

Dina points her glass at Ellie. “Got one for you, babe. How many people in this room would you kiss?”

“Myself excluded, but I would if I could,” Ellie says, sipping slowly. “Two.”

Abby's brows furrow and Dina sees that she only relaxes once she sees Dina smiling. "Interesting," she says. "Your turn."

“Alright,” Ellie says. “Abby. Be honest, have you ever thought about me while touching yourself?”

There’s a beat of silence.

Abby blinks.

Dina watches her like a cat watches a mouse, not out of malice, just hunger. Abby’s mouth opens, then closes. Her gaze flicks between the two of them. She hesitates.

And then, slowly, she lifts her glass and takes a drink.

“Damn,” Ellie says, delighted. “A non-answer is so an answer.”

“You’re awful,” Abby mutters, but her mouth quirks.

“I’m a delight,” Ellie counters, leaning back on one elbow. “Dina, your turn.”

Dina looks at Abby, letting the moment sit heavy between them.

��Abby,” she says sweetly. “Do you want to kiss me?”

Ellie lets out a tiny, surprised breath.

Abby goes still.

The fizzing energy in the room spikes into something bright and sharp. For a second, no one moves. Then Abby licks her lips. Her eyes flick to Ellie, who doesn’t look surprised. A little interested, very amused.

Dina watches the way her throat bobs when she swallows.

And then Abby says, softly, “Yeah.”

Dina’s smile curves slow and warm. “Good.”

Dina shifts forward before Abby can overthink it. Her glass clinks softly on the nightstand as she sets it down, then she reaches out, slow and deliberate, fingers brushing Abby’s jaw.

“C’mere,” she murmurs.

Abby doesn’t move at first, like she’s waiting for the joke to land. But Dina’s thumb is already sliding along her cheekbone, steady and coaxing, and Ellie doesn’t say a word—just watches with parted lips and something bright in her eyes.

So Abby leans in.

The kiss starts careful. Dina’s mouth is warm, soft, tasting faintly like peach and whiskey. Abby kisses like she lifts weights: all control, focus, the barest tremble of tension in the hands that rest on her thighs, like she’s holding herself back from grabbing. Dina lets it simmer a second before she deepens it, tilting her head and letting her teeth graze Abby’s lower lip.

Abby makes a sound, low and involuntary, and Dina feels the shiver of it down her spine.

She pulls back just enough to whisper, “Still good?”

Abby nods, a little breathless. “Yeah. Fuck. Yeah.”

Ellie’s voice slides in behind them, low and teasing. “Jesus. That was hot.”

Abby looks over, flushed and still catching her breath—and that’s all the invitation Ellie needs.

She leans in and kisses Abby too.

Abby stutters a little in surprise, but Ellie’s hand is already on her knee, her mouth soft and coaxing. This kiss is different—less testing, more knowing. Like they’ve imagined it enough times that the rhythm comes naturally. Abby’s hand rises, hesitant, and settles lightly on Ellie’s hip.

When Ellie pulls back, her smile is wicked. “You're pretty good at that.”

Dina laughs, genuinely delighted, and pulls Ellie into a kiss over Abby's lap. Her hand rests on the column of Ellie's throat, squeezing the barest amount as she keeps her just where she wants her. When Ellie moans into it, Abby makes another noise under her breath, and Dina grins without breaking the kiss.

She pulls away, half-leaning over one of Abby's thighs now, robe slipping open just enough to tease.

“So,” Dina says. “Still think you’re not the one being hunted?”

Abby laughs once, breathy and amazed. “I might’ve been wrong.”

“Yeah,” Ellie adds, crawling in closer to bracket Abby’s other side. “You totally are.”

Abby opens her mouth to reply—but Dina grips her jaw and pulls her into a kiss that's all hunger and pent up want. No more hesitation. She tangles her fingers into Abby's hair and tugs as she takes exactly what she's been wanting for the past two weeks. And Abby lets her, one of those strong hands coming to rest on her waist, curling into the silky fabric of her robe.

Ellie kisses along Abby’s jaw, then down her throat, slow and reverent. Dina squeezes her thigh together in a bid to relieve some of the burning arousal; she kisses her until Abby is warm all over, breathing like she’s run a sprint.

And when Dina finally whispers against her lips, “Take your hoodie off,” Abby obeys like it’s gospel.

Dina finds that she likes how easily Abby listens, how she looks to her so blatantly seeking approval. Ellie usually requires more effort, a push and pull for that well-earned control. Abby, it seems, is just eager to please.

Ellie wastes no time shoving her hand under Abby's shirt and pawing wherever she can reach. Abby gasps and arches into the touch and Dina quickly undoes her robe and tosses it over the side of the bed.

Ellie grins, all teeth and delight, and hooks her fingers under the hem of Abby’s shirt. “Arms up, big girl.”

Abby rolls her eyes but does it, lifting her arms obediently, and Ellie peels the shirt up and over in one smooth motion until Abby is bare from the waist up, flushed and breathing harder than before.

“Fuck,” Ellie murmurs, immediately leaning in to mouth at Abby’s chest, tongue wet and lazy. “Look what she's been keeping from us,” she says to Dina.

"How selfish."

Abby starts to answer, probably something sarcastic but the words die the second Ellie’s teeth scrape gently over one nipple, then soothe the bite with a hot, open-mouthed kiss.

Dina’s hand strokes slowly down Abby’s torso, fingers brushing over the newly exposed skin, tracing lines from sternum to stomach. She presses a few soft kisses under Abby’s ribs as she goes, watching the way Abby’s abdomen flinches beneath the attention. It makes her grin.

“I've never seen you so shaken, Abby,” Dina says softly. “It’s a good look on you.”

Abby makes another sound—part whimper, part laugh—and her hands flex against the sheets.

Ellie’s lips are shiny when she looks up. “I don’t think she knows what to do with both of us at once.”

“Not yet,” Dina agrees, and hooks her fingers into the waistband of Abby’s shorts. “But she’s gonna learn.”

She leans in to kiss lower, just above the hem, while slowly sliding the shorts and underwear down together. She does it deliberately, the backs of her knuckles brushing against the tender inside of Abby’s thighs as she peels the last layers off. Ellie helps by lifting Abby’s hips just enough so Dina can tug them down fully and toss them away.

And then Abby’s naked. Laid out in front of them. Gorgeous and already wrecked from nothing but teasing touches and two hungry mouths.

Dina sits back for a second just to take her in. “Look at you,” she murmurs. “Beautiful.”

Ellie hums her agreement, dragging her teeth along Abby’s shoulder. “All laid out for us. So fucking hot.”

Abby groans, slaps a hand over her face and then gasps when Dina kisses the inside of her knee and works her way up with slow, open-mouthed heat.

“I swear to God,” Abby breathes.

“You like the praise, don’t you?” Dina grins against her skin. “Get all squirmy when we talk about how hot you are.”

Abby tries to glare at her but it doesn’t stick, not with Ellie’s hand teasing slow circles near her hip and Dina’s mouth inching ever closer between her thighs.

Abby’s already trembling when Dina finally licks into her hot and slow. She moans, a sharp broken sound, and Ellie actually laughs, low and delighted, as she lays beside Abby. Her fingers still idly massaging her tits.

“Jesus, Dina,” Abby gasps, hips twitching. “Fuck—”

“Mm,” Ellie hums, grinning down at her. “You don’t even know. That’s her being nice.”

Dina doesn’t answer. Doesn’t even look up. She’s too busy burying her face between Abby’s thighs, hands gripping firm hips to hold her in place as she licks again—this time slower, deeper, like she’s savoring the taste. Her fingers dig in as Abby writhes, and the pleased noise Dina makes in response sends another full-body shiver through her.

Ellie raises a hand, brushes hair back from Abby’s sweaty temple. “You’re so fucking lucky,” she murmurs, eyes shining. “She usually makes me beg for it. Beg and then explain myself. Like, ‘why do you deserve to come, Ellie?’ And if the answer’s not good enough, she’ll stop.”

Abby whimpers. Her hands fly to Dina’s shoulders, not to push her away, just to hold on.

Dina pulls back just barely—mouth slick, smile positively sinful. “I'm being nice. Just this once,” she says against Abby’s thigh, then kisses her clit with a wet smack. “You should be grateful.”

“I am,” Abby pants. “I fucking am.”

Dina hums in satisfaction and dives back in, tonguing her open with the kind of practiced confidence that makes Abby keen. Her tongue moves slow at first, then faster, learning what Abby likes and giving her more. One of Dina’s hands sneaks between her own legs without thinking, fingertips working as she grinds against her palm, helplessly turned on by the sounds Abby makes—those desperate, involuntary cries as she bucks under the attention.

Ellie’s voice floats above them, almost dreamy. “She gets so into it. Look at her—Dina’s gonna come just from eating you out.”

Abby squeezes her eyes shut, head tipped back, every muscle straining.

“Look at her,” Ellie whispers again, hand stroking slow and possessive down Abby’s torso. “Look at what you’re doing to her.”

Abby forces her eyes open—just for a second—and the sight almost ends her.

Dina’s eyes are closed, her face completely buried between Abby’s thighs. She’s moaning into it like it’s the best meal of her life, grinding herself down hard against her hand. Her hair's all messy, cheeks flushed, and Abby realizes she’s not holding back at all. She’s gone on it. Obsessed. Her fingers dig bruises into Abby’s hips as she fucks her with her mouth, relentless and wild.

And Abby can’t take it. The image burns behind her eyes as her thighs clamp tighter around Dina’s head and she finally, finally breaks apart with a sob.

She comes hard, gasping through it, one hand fisting in Dina’s hair and the other gripping Ellie’s forearm like she might float off the bed otherwise.

And Dina doesn’t stop—not right away. She licks her through it, working her down slow, like she’s reluctant to give it up. Like she could stay there forever.

When she finally pulls away, face slick and eyes still dark with hunger, she looks up and grins.

“Well,” she says hoarsely, catching her breath. “That was fun.”

Ellie barks a laugh and strokes a hand down Abby’s side. “She’s such a show-off.”

“I’m just efficient,” Dina says, crawling back up to slot herself against Abby’s side. She presses a kiss to her shoulder. “And maybe a little obsessed.”

Abby is still catching her breath, totally wrecked. “Fuck.”

“Eloquent,” Ellie teases, kissing her flushed cheek. “And you haven’t even gotten to the really fun part yet.”

After discarding her underwear over the side of the bed, Dina leans in close and murmurs something in Ellie's ear. Whatever it is makes Ellie’s breath stutter, her eyes flick down to Abby, still dazed, still pliant, skin flushed and glistening with sweat.

“Oh,” Ellie says, voice a little hoarse. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

She shifts off the bed long enough to peel her boxers down and toss them to the floor, leaving her in just the ribbed tank. Her thighs are already slick, muscles tensing with anticipation as she climbs back up and swings one leg over Abby’s chest, then slowly inches backwards until she's straddling her face.

She can't see Abby's face like this, but she can imagine it well enough. “This good?” Ellie asks, already lowering her hips.

Abby doesn’t answer with words, she grabs Ellie’s thighs and pulls her down like it’s the only thing she’s ever wanted. Ellie moans, loud and unfiltered, grinding down gently against Abby’s mouth. “Oh fuck—fuck, okay.”

Dina just watches, greedy and delighted, before crawling between Abby's legs.

“Look at you,” Dina says, dragging her fingers lightly up Ellie's sides, making her twitch. “You're taking her so good, baby.”

Ellie whines, hips rocking forward. "God, she’s—fuck, she’s really good at this.”

“Oh, I know,” Dina purrs. “Our girl's a pleaser.”

Ellie laughs breathlessly as Abby redoubles her efforts. She braces one hand on Abby's toned stomach, the other coming up to cup Dina’s cheek as they meet in a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss. Dina licks into her, slow and deep, and throws one of her legs over Abby's. It gives her the perfect angle to grind their pussies together; she whines into Ellie's mouth as the sensation overtakes her.

Abby groans into Ellie, and the vibration makes Ellie shiver.

“Shit,” she pants. “Shit, Dina.”

“I’ve got you,” Dina murmurs, breath hot against her lips. “Just ride her. Let her make you come.”

Ellie does, grinding slow and firm, lost in it. Her fingers tangle in Dina’s hair again as they kiss, filthy and heated and desperate. Her thighs tremble around Abby’s head.

And all the while, Dina keeps her hips working, keeps Abby’s and her own slick centers sliding together, over and over. Abby’s body is caught between them, mouth busy, hips jerking with every slow drag of friction. Her whimpers are muffled but constant—needy, overwhelmed, into it.

“You’re doing so good,” Ellie whispers, breath shaking. “Fuck—so good, Abs.”

“She loves it,” Dina says, teeth grazing Ellie’s lower lip. “You can hear how wet she is, right?”

Ellie moans in agreement, burying her face against Dina’s neck as her hips stutter. “I’m—fuck! M'gonna come.”

“Good,” Dina whispers, one hand cradling Ellie’s jaw. “Come for me, baby. Come on her mouth.”

That does it.

Ellie cries out, thighs clenching around Abby’s face as she bucks through it. Her whole body trembles with it—every muscle pulled taut, fingers gripping Dina like a lifeline. And Abby holds her there, doesn’t stop licking even when Ellie starts to squirm and gasp.

Dina kisses the side of Ellie’s face, murmuring sweet filth against her skin, and focuses on chasing her own pleasure. She grinds down fast and hard, and Abby does her best to answer each of her movements with her own. It doesn't take long before Dina is throwing her head back and digging her nails into tanned, freckled skin.

Beneath them, Abby is panting, chest heaving, eyes wild and so ready for more.

Dina sits up a little and glances across the room, fingers trailing teasingly between Ellie’s thighs, just to make her whimper.

“Hey, Abs,” Dina calls, already shifting to reach for the bedside drawer. She comes up with the harness and dildo in hand, dangling it by the strap like a promise. “Put this on?"

Abby, flushed and wide-eyed, hesitates for just a second—then swallows hard and nods. “Yeah. Okay.”

Dina Abby’s strong hands make quick work of the buckles, and soon the strap is snug low on her hips, thick cock jutting out heavy and ready. She runs a hand along it like she’s testing the weight.

Dina bites her lip, gaze raking over her. “God, look at you.”

Then she lays back again, guiding Ellie to reposition—twisting around so she’s nearly upside-down on top of Dina, her mouth hovering just above Dina’s slick center. Dina spreads her thighs wide, one arm wrapping around Ellie’s middle, the other hand reaching down to slip two fingers into her with practiced ease. Ellie keens, arching into her.

“All good?” Dina checks, glancing down at Ellie’s flushed face between her legs.

Ellie groans. “So good. Fuck, Dina.”

“Good.” Then she lifts her chin, locks eyes with Abby, and adds, “Come here, babe.”

Abby climbs up onto the bed, kneeling between Dina’s spread thighs. Her hands settle at Dina’s hips, waiting for the final go-ahead.

Dina lets her fingers curl just right inside Ellie, making her twitch. “Slow at first. Let me feel it stretch.”

Abby nods, positioning the strap. “Yeah. Got it.”

The first push makes Dina suck in a breath and she keeps her fingers moving inside Ellie as Abby fills her, slow and steady.

“Yes,” Dina groans. “That’s it, Abs. Just like that.”

Ellie moans against her, and then—ever the overachiever—dips her head and starts licking, her tongue and nose brushing Dina’s clit. Her hips twitch at the sensation, caught in the middle of perfect stimulation, stretched full and wrecked in the best way.

“Holy fuck,” she breathes, flexing her fingers inside Ellie as she rocks her hips up. “That feels so fucking good. My good girls."

Abby starts thrusting a little harder, finding her rhythm, hands firm on Dina’s waist. Her eyes are locked on where they’re joined, like she’s mesmerized.

“You’re so tight,” Abby groans. “Fuck, Dina.”

“Yeah?” Dina pants. “You like fucking me like this? Like doing a good job for me?”

"I do. I really do." Abby tightens her grip on Dina's waist and fucks into her harder, bordering on desperate.

Ellie moans helplessly against her, hips rolling. Dina curls her fingers just right again and grins when Ellie chokes out a noise.

“She’s so close already,” Dina says, breathless. “You feel that, Abs? How I squeeze around you when she moans like that?”

Abby groans, pace faltering for a moment, overwhelmed.

“Keep going,” Dina says sharply, nails digging into Abby’s hip. “You’re doing so good. Make me come.”

Abby thrusts harder, deeper now, the sound of skin on skin obscene. Ellie’s licking faster too, breath ragged and desperate. Dina is caught in the middle of it, taking and giving and thriving.

Her back arches, every nerve alive. “Just like that, don’t you dare stop—”

And then it all crashes over her. Pleasure sparking up her spine, thighs clamping around Ellie’s head, a groan ripped from her throat as she comes hard around Abby’s cock.

Ellie cries out too, stuttering on her tongue, grinding against Dina’s mouth as she comes seconds later, shaking apart.

And Abby, gasping, still fucking her through it, can’t tear her eyes away. Dina lies back, spent and smug, one hand lazily stroking Ellie’s thigh.

-

Eventually, the three of them manage to collect themselves.

There’s soft laughter as Ellie trips over her own shorts trying to get them on, and a sharp yelp when Abby yanks them up for her. Dina barely bothers tying her robe back up, content to wander half-naked between the bathroom and the bedroom, passing out water and kisses like party favors.

They wash off the sweat and slick with quick, sleepy showers. They’re all bare-faced and quiet by the time they crawl into Abby’s bed, limbs tangled, hearts loud in their chests.

Abby’s room is bigger, the mattress softer, the blankets kicked halfway off by the time they settle. Dina ends up in the middle this time, Ellie pinned half under her, Abby curled protectively along her other side. Someone’s hand finds her waist. Someone else’s fingers are laced with hers.

For a long, peaceful moment, nobody says anything.

Then Ellie sighs, muffled into Dina’s shoulder. “Guys. Don't be mad but I gotta piss again.”

[yuukirita]

I was reading Baby Bee's adventures in the multiverse again, I need Elita, Megs and Op from Earthspark to have a moment with him! I need angst and someone to have a complete mental breakdown.

It might also be nice to see them spend some time with the Terrans, he's almost the same size as Trash and he's just a baby!

... yeah yeah that seem good.

---

A sight

It was quite a sight, for those that knew what they were looking at. Not many beings still had the option so say they did.

Optimus did. Optimus knew that the young bot, who shared Bumblebee's colour, was a Cybertronian sparkling. How? How could it be? This. Here and now. It should be impossible.

He'd been sent with Elita-One and Megatron by G.H.O.S.T. to investigate a weird energy flux in the woods near Witwicky. They expected trouble. 

They'd split up to cover more ground, his partners minutes from his location just in case. Then he saw it. A portal. With no structure to support it, it clearly was unstable- and Optimus couldn't say he ever saw a portal that looked this way before. It felt Alien.

He opened his comm as he inspected it, looking for tracks of anything that might have come out of it. "Optimus to Team, I believe I've found the energy disturbance. No hostiles in sight, but be careful-”

He was cut off as the portal shifted, extending and stretching. Optimus raised his axe, on guard. It wobbled before it spat a small yellow ball into the ground before collapsing onto itself and disappearing with a clean ‘pop’. 

The Autobot leader didn’t lower his guard, never one to underestimate an inconspicuous creature in this kind of scenario. He stayed calm and ready, knowing that his team would reach him soon. 

He watched the Yellow sparkling groan and clumsily get up from where he'd fallen face first- He dusted himself off and looked around. Even then, Optimus didn’t lower his guard, this time not out of suspicion but from shock. 

“Weird nature stuff… everywhere… ew, I swallowed some.” Said the sparkling in soft Cybertronian, hitting his heels together to let out wheels under his feet. Rolling forward as he started exploring further- 

BabyBee squeaked out when he saw Optimus just standing there, hidden by the tall trees, illuminated by the glow of his still raised axe, looking quite intimidating. 

The small cry snapped Optimus out of it and he immediately put the axe away, lowered his mask and raised his arms to seem non-threatening, hoping the gesture would be understood while searching his processor for Cybertronian speech-  it’d been so long-

He didn’t have time to say anything before A spark of recognition lit up the sparkling’s optics “Optimus!” The young bot rolled forward, smiling- then stopped. He squinted at Optimus and his shoulders slumped “Not my Optimus…” 

Optimus, externally keeping his cool but internally having his mind blown that one: he was seeing a sparkling. two: that sparkling was just spat out a portal. And Tree: that sparkling KNEW HIS NAME- or at least mistaken him for someone with the same name- it- it was a lot. Optimus kneeled down as much as he could, speaking in Cybertronian “Hello, young one- em… I am Optimus Prime.”

The sparkling didn’t feel distressed or anxious- and Optimus intended to keep it this way. Which is why he wasn’t scooping up the young bot despite how much he felt the need to do so to check on him. 

“I know… But you’re not MY Optimus Prime…” The young bot pouted and kicked the dirt, making his wheel roll in the air, defeated. “Again.” 

The leader felt tears in his eyes, simply because he was seeing a part of Cybertron’s lost history- or perhaps not *his* Cybertron’s lost history. 

BabyBee noticed this Version of his friend tearing up and he froze, blinked and quickly rolled to his leg to comfort him. “Ey- it’s okay. Sorry I said you’re not my Optimus! We can still be friends! I’m B-127- My friends call me Bee! You can call me Bee!” 

Optimus winced when he felt babybee's tiny hands tap his leg. He’d kept it together when Twitch and Trash were revealed to him- but this was apparently his tipping point. 

He whipped his tears away as he scrambled himself back together “Do not apologies, young Bee. I am simply- processing emotions.” He looked down to look at the sparkling, B-127 he said his name was- sharing the number with his scout could not be a coincidence “May I pick you up?” He offered his hand for him to step onto.

 BabyBee didn't think twice before hopping on “Yeah! You can check me over. I’m not hurt or anything if you’re worried about that.” Optimus "How could this be?" He whispered as he checked the sparkling over- he hadn't seen a sparkling in... eons. The memories of them are practically lost to the newer generations. 

BabyBee let himself be examined, after a few dimensional jumps he learned that 'inspecting sparkling to make sure he's okay' to be a... pretty much universal reaction to most Optimus Prime he’d met. “Well. You know what a space bridge is?” Optimus nodded “Well- that. But gone wrong-”  

His explanation was cut short when Megatron and Elita entered the scene. 

On reflex, he closed his hands around the sparkling to hide it from Megatron’s view- an old distrust resurfacing as it often did. A distrust he felt ashamed he couldn’t let go of. 

“Optimus, everything alright? You got cut off-” His old friend spoke calmly as Elita one surveyed the surroundings. 

“Ey- What’s that about???” BabyBee’s voice came muffled from his newfound prison “RUDE!” 

Elita picked up on the muffled Cybertronian and lowered her guard after finding the area was clear. “Prime, What’s this?” 

BabyBee kept tapping at his fingers as the Prime failed to come up with an answer. “em… One moment.” He turned away from his allies and opened his hands, whispering to the sparkling “Sorry young one, My friends arrived and I… didn’t want you to panic.” Because Megatron was there. And if this Sparkling was from another Cybertron then… “Megatron and Elita-One are my friends- do you know them too?”

 He gave a slight awkward smile looking back at his friends, who were curiously standing there, letting him do his thing and trying to catch what he was saying. 

“You guys are FRIENDS?!” The small bot exclaimed, shocked. 

Optimus sighed, saddened that other versions of them were still enemies. “Yes, friends and trusted allies so you can believe me that my Megatron will means you no harm-” 

“THIS IS AWESOME!” The little Bee exclaimed with joy. He skillfully ran up Optimus’s arm to climb up his shoulder before Optimus could stop him- his little blue optics landed on Megatron, unafraid and unbothered “WE’RE FRIENDS!” He gestured towards the old war criminal to come closer- then seeing Elita, he did the same gesture towards her. 

Megatron blanched and took a step back “Is that a-” 

Elita-One similarly froze up, simply staring. 

Optimus picked up BabyBee from his shoulder to turn and walk a bit closer to his allies- “Sparkling… Yes.”

End part one of 3

[gremlinmodetweeker]

Ravens Spoked on Wagon Wheels Crushing Through the Mud

So, this can also be found posted on my AO3 account HERE. The full version including smut can be accessed through my KoFi HERE.

Summary:

In a dystopian future where society has collapsed, major cities have been rendered uninhabitable, lost. However, people managed to cling to the earth's surface. Forced from the cities, people now live in settlements spattered across the countryside. For those who don't wish to stay in one place, clans of travellers roam across the land in great convoys of wagons, carrying goods from settlement to settlement as they pass.

Because sons were seen as more valuable than daughters, men now outnumber women three to one in most places. As such, when König finds you after a revenge raid on your clan, he takes the most of the opportunity that has been pushed into his life, and takes you as his new bride.

TWs: Rape/non-con (or at the very least extremely dubious consent and forceful scenes), heavily implied attempted rape scene, technically kidnapping, forced marriage, HEAVY breeding kink, praise kink, intense violence, intense misogyny, dystopia

Wordcount: 20.3 K

Art from This Post

Story below the cut.

Ravens Spoked on Wagon Wheels Crushing Through the Mud

Wood cracked and popped in the flames as charred bodies lay motionless in the dust.

You looked up to see the tallest man you’d ever seen glowering down at you with baby blue eyes. That was the only part of his face you could see, the rest hidden under a heavy military helmet and a black shroud stained with twin red tear tracks. His brutish body was covered by scraped-together armor and giant combat boots. In his right hand, he carried a war axe covered in fresh blood. In his left, he held your chin with dirty gloved fingers. His haunted  eyes were red rimmed and watery, sadder than any you’d ever seen before. He loomed above you as though he was your new god. 

And in a way, maybe he was.

He was a man, and so thus he had been born with the world as his oyster. He looked down at you with such knowing sadness. It was almost as though he felt bad for you for being born as you were. In a world where men outnumbered women three to one, the few women that speckled this earth were naught much more than tokens of wealth, prestige or bartering chips to be used as men pleased. To see one free and unclaimed was a rare sight indeed.

“So this is it,” you whispered as the flames flickered around you.

You’d just watched this man run his axe through your step-father’s chest with such grace and ease that you might have thought he was dancing. This man had stood and stared as your mother and siblings had pushed you from their wagon and rode away before you could stand. Your own mother had literally thrown you at this man’s feet to save her skin. You had been nothing more than bait to her.

And clever bait it was. 

As the only daughter, one at a marriageable age at that, you would be the only one he’d have taken any interest in. It was no wonder he had momentarily stopped his warpath to take you in as his prize.

“It’s done,” he said hoarsely, “you’re mine now.”

You looked around at the remains of your clan. Those that survived had long since fled on the few wagons they had managed to salvage after the slaughter. The rest lay dead at your feet.

All around you the world burned. By the grace of one poor decision made by your clan’s chief, your entire world had collapsed under horn and drum and axe and club. The wasteland had claimed another clan to its bloodstained soils. You were now without any family nor any kin to call your own. You were a remnant of a mistake. Your worth in this world was kept between your legs.

“What are you going to do to me?” you asked, your voice only just audible over the crackles of flames.

“I will make you my wife,” he had an accent you’d never heard before, “unless you would rather I kill you now. What would you like?”

You looked up at him with empty eyes, “Would you be quick?”

The man waited for you to give him a proper response.

You sighed, “I don’t have any other choice, do I?”

“If you try to run, I’ll hunt you down with dogs,” the man warned you, “don’t think I won’t. My clan would be glad to have another woman to use.”

You swallowed.

“If you come with me, I can protect you from them. You would only answer to me.”

You looked out across the tall wheat grass. You could run all you liked, but the chance of surviving on your own was next to nothing. You’d be lucky if you made it through a single night without the protection of raiders guarding you as you slept. Men like the one before you were the reason that trips through the prairies were possible these days. They were also your greatest threat.

You didn’t have much of a choice to make.

“I don’t want to die,” you whispered as you looked around at the empty skies and golden fields, “and I don’t want to be a whore.”

“Then take whatever you want from here and come with me.”

You had precious little to your name. Your family had been by and far the poorest in the entire meagre clan. Very few would even bother to look your way. With their deaths you’d lost little. If anything, this was an opportunity for a new life. 

You doubted it would be much better.

Your stepfather’s old sword laid by your new husband’s feet.

“This is not a good sword,” the man observed.

“My father was a piss-poor hunter,” you explained.

“A pity,” the man surmised.

You walked through the ruins. From them, you managed to grab sets of clothes you’d only dreamed of wearing and a small stuffed bunny rabbit. You didn’t exchange a word until you had finished bundling your belongings together and stood up to look into his cold eyes. He looked so sad as he watched you carry your new belongings on your back. When you looked around, you didn’t see much else to grab.

“You would’ve done better to go for our chief’s daughter,” you said as you faced him.

He shook his head slowly, “I want nothing to do with that bloodline. She would be of the same poison that killed my father. I value my life too much to even consider taking her.”

You couldn’t argue with that logic.

“Are you a good hunter?” you asked him.

“I am,” the man said, “I am the best raider in my clan.”

“What clan are you even from?”

“Has your chief poisoned many others?” the man raised an eyebrow.

“More than one, I’m afraid.”

The man shook his head, “Then he should have prepared for this.”

“He didn’t.”

The tall man put his hand around the back on your neck gently. He leaned down to look into your eyes sympathetically.

“I can tell.”

You stared at each other silently, quietly eyeing each other up to see who would take the first swing. It was a standstill.

The man reached down and grabbed your bag from you and hoisted it over his shoulder.

“My name is König, and I am from the KorTac clan that travels from the west coast to the east,” he told you, “you will be my wife from now on.”

“Don’t you want to know my name?” you asked.

“Does it matter?” König replied.

You told him your name regardless.

He shook his head sadly and squared his shoulders, “I will call you my wife and nothing else, as that is what you are to me. Now come,” he grunted as he turned south, “my caravan is far from here. If you can’t keep up, tell me. I can carry you.”

“And if I don’t want to be carried?”

He gave you a sad look.

You didn’t have a choice.

The members of the KorTac clan watched you warily as you plodded along the path through their encampment. To your right, a circle of yaks was being tended to by a shepherd in a full black face mask. His ice blue eyes glared at you with unbridled disdain.

“Won’t there be a ceremony for us?” you asked as you walked through another ring of wagons.

“This is the ceremony,” his high pitched voice rasped.

You barely had time to consider what he meant before you were unceremoniously shoved towards a heavily ornamented vardo. You had never seen such an extravagant caravan before. The black and red wagon was a work of art, but looking arou d you figured that was the nature of the caravans built in KorTac. You once heard that when couples were married in the KorTac clan, both sides of the family would come together in a great ceremony to make the most beautiful carriage they could to house the new couple. Evidently, that was either a myth, or you weren’t considered worthy of such an event.

Once you’d been pushed inside, you were given ample opportunity to take in your surroundings. On the far wall, black wood shelves were lined with ancient leather tomes. The wall opposite was taken up by black cupboards. In the center, a painting of yaks was displayed proudly. Over on your right side, the cherry wood wall had a pastoral scene painstakingly carved into it. The wagon seemed strangely small compared to the outside.

“How do you move this?” you asked.

“Four oxen,” König boasted, “I have twelve oxen in my herd, eight yaks and ten goats. I have fifteen chickens and twenty sheep. My oldest son is my personal shepherd.”

“You have a son?” you asked.

“I have four,” he grunted, “and three daughters as well. I have others, but I sired them for other families. I expect us to have many children together.”

You blushed but forced down the pesky feelings.

“So there are other wives?” you looked around for a place to sit.

“Not anymore.”

König tilted the painting down off the wall. You watched as he folded it down to make a table and pulled out two benches on either side. He pushed you into one abruptly.

“So this will be where we live?” you looked around at the honey yellow walls and black wood accents.

“I have three wagons to my name,” he said proudly, “two were made when I joined this clan in honor of my two wives, and this one I made with my own wealth. This here is my personal wagon, which we will share together. My second wagon is for my children. The third is used for storage.”

“Who takes care of the children when you’re not with them? Will I be doing that?”

König sat on the bench opposite to you, “My oldest daughter takes care of the others when I am not there. I make a point to spend time with my children when I am home from raids. It is important to spend time with your family. You will learn that when you live here.”

You nodded in agreement and asked, “And what of your wives? The sisters? What happened to them?”

“My other wives were vixens,” König spat bitterly, “they thought they could kill me and inherit, tried to take my own head,” he laughed and sneered, “I took theirs instead.”

Your blood ran cold.

“What makes you think I’ll be any different from them?” you asked coldly.

König gave you a once over and chuffed, “You may not be. Pray that I think you are.”

You nodded solemnly. You would have to work to earn the trust of your husband. At least, if you wished to be a loved wife. You were still unsure.

König soldiered on, completely ignoring your trepidation.

“You can cook and clean, ja?” König asked as he leaned his elbows onto the table.

“I can,” you nodded, “I can sew too.”

“Can you read and write?” König questioned.

“Very little,” you admitted.

“Are you a virgin?” was his final question.

You nodded stoically.

“Then you will do,” König stated and patted the table with one hand.

You looked at him as he stood. Somehow, this giant man was able to stretch to his full height as he grabbed something from the cupboard behind you. He must’ve been nearly seven feet when he stood at his full height. When he sat back down, you saw him take out a small wheel of cheese from a cloth. He offered you a piece, which you took. You hadn’t had cheese in years. Few of the men with animals would ever share with your family. The last time you’d had cheese it had been stolen off someone’s windowsill.

When you bit into the cheese it was creamier than you remembered. The taste was milder too. You relished it with every bite. König seemed amused by how much you enjoyed the cheese and peeled off another mouthful for you.

“This vardo is larger than your old home. Will you be comfortable here?” he asked as you the cheese melted in your mouth.

You looked around and squinted. The carriage had seemed so much larger on the outside. As it was, it looked to be at most double the size of the covered wagon you’d lived in before.

“Where do you sleep in this?”

König gestured behind him to the wall and tugged the side slightly, revealing it as a sliding door, “I will show you our bed tonight when we consummate our marriage.”

You watched him shift the door back in place, disguising the door once again.

“Must we do that right away?” you asked sadly.

“Why would you put it off?” he shrugged, “it is best to start producing as quickly as we can. A pregnant woman is a claimed woman in this clan, and I don’t want any other men touching my prize.”

You winced at his tone, but you figured he was just being logical. Painfully so. Instead of lingering on his clinical approach to your new relationship, you figured you’d ask more about your new home.

“What do you keep in this wagon?” you asked.

“The basic necessities,” König answered, “but I keep my weapons in my storage vardo. I’ve learned to be careful with where I keep them.”

“I didn’t ask about your weapons,” you said.

König narrowed his eyes, “It is best to let you know.”

You sighed. So this was how your marriage would be. As König said before, a pity. 

When you’d been with your old clan, you’d hoped for a marriage out of love, or at least to someone you’d known. As it was, this man seemed to be only interested in the title and the benefits of having a woman to warm his bed. It’s not like you could reasonably expect much more, but you had dreamed of finding a man who might love you for who you were. Of course, nobody in your clan would marry a woman with no dowry. Your only hope was for someone outside of your clan to fall in love with you. Unfortunately, not many considered you that lovable.

You looked at the carved wood door. It took up the entire side of the room, acting as a dividing wall. A part of you baulked at the idea of bedding this giant man. Another part of you had resigned yourself to your fate. You had no choice in this matter. It was this or struggling to survive on the plains with nothing but the clothes on your back and your wits to keep you alive.

The thought alone made you shudder. Beasts prowled these lands at night. You were strong, but you were only one woman. You couldn’t fend off against an entire pack of wolves on your own. You’d be worse off against another tribe of men. Being torn apart by one man’s cock was better than being shared among twenty. You shuddered at the thought.

You were stuck here with König. If nothing else, at least a wealthy man had captured you. With someone like König at your side, you would never go to bed hungry again. The cold would become a distant memory. You could be comfortable in this life, as long as König was a decent man. If he weren’t like your late stepfather, you’d be glad for that alone.

You hoped things would be different here. For most of your life you’d struggled dearly. Your stepfather could never catch enough to feed your family, never mind the rest of the clan. Your mother got by on crooked trades and your siblings stole from others to make the rest of the ends meet. You were brought up on table scraps and broken promises for as long as you could remember. The mere idea of owning an animal was a pipe dream.

“How did you manage to garner such wealth?” you wondered as you examined his illustrious bookshelf.

“I am a good warrior,” König replied, “and I had two wives when I landed here. I became only more feared and respected when I killed them. Nobody was brave enough to challenge a woman killer. A pity, really. I like to fight.”

Your lip curled in disgust. This wealth was birthed by severed heads.

König leaned in until you could smell his breath through his hood.

“I built the very wealth they craved,” he hissed, “don’t you dare go thinking that I used those parasites for my own benefit.”

“It sounds like you did well enough,” you snapped back.

König’s shoulders squared as he slowly raised his head.

You stared at him defiantly, daring him to try. Do as he would, it wouldn’t amount to half of what you’d endured before. There was nothing he could do to you that you hadn’t already survived before he came into your life.

König’s eyes softened. He lowered himself back into his seat with a low chuckle and shook his head.

“What?” you snapped.

“You’re good,” he rasped, “very good. You’ll make a good wife. If you don’t kill me, that is.”

You scowled at that. What would this man know of good wives? You felt a tendril of rage coil inside you. This man truly thought you were nothing but a joke. He saw your defiance as a yapping dog. He saw you as less than.

You looked forward to proving him wrong.

König clapped his hands together again and rose to his feet. He stretched his arms to the side and turned to face you. He slowly began undoing his armour as he looked at you expectantly.

“This will be your first job as my wife,” König explained as he peeled the pieces off of himself, “you will clean my armour.”

“And if I don’t want to?” you tried to give him a menacing look.

“Then I suppose you aren’t a very good wife then,” König shrugged, “and you know what happens to those sorts of wives.”

You bit back a snappy remark.

He ignored your disdain as he sloughed his armour and dropped it onto the table sloppily, spreading bloodstains and dirt as he did so.

You stared at the mess and he laughed. He shook his head as he peeled his helmet off and dropped it on top of the mini mountain he’d formed.

“And your hood?” you asked dryly.

All humour left König’s demeanor as he straightened his spine.

“The hood stays on until tonight. Only once the last candle is out will I take it off,” he warned you before he turned to leave, “the washing station is near the center of the caravans. Just turn right when you leave and you’ll find it soon enough. Hard to miss all the old crones out there.”

With that he left you alone in the vardo. You wondered where he was headed. You wondered if he thought you might try and run.

You sighed in relief once he was gone. In all honesty, you feared that your marriage would be completely different to this. König was practically a lamb in comparison to someone like your stepfather. You thought that the moment you stepped in through the door, he’d force you into his bed and take you then and there. The fact he’d been so noble as to at least explain your place in your new relationship was a luxury few women were given in these lands. In fact, women themselves were a rarity in and of itself. Generations of men wanting only for sons had led to a land populated by men in a nearly three to one ratio in most places you’d travelled through. In some lands, the number was as high as five. You weren’t allowed to leave the wagon when your clan visited those places. Even your mother, a known married woman and a mother of four, would stay quiet and hide in the straw beside you.

You shuddered at the memories. Here it seemed different. If König was able to kill his wives and still be part of this clan, it was any wonder as to what sort of power he held here. To kill a resource that men had fought and died for like they were dirt beneath his heel made you feel sick. Was that how he saw you? Just another resource in his collection? Another tool in his storage wagon? You paled at the thought.

You wouldn’t let this man rule over you like your stepfather had your mother. That you vowed to yourself as you gathered his armour into your arms. You would find a way to live. If that meant lying beneath him and bearing his children, then so be it. There were worse fates.

As you carried the armour through the caravans, you decided that you’d find a way to live despite these horrors. Your mother had been in a marriage like this one, and her mother before her, and her mother before her. Women had no choices on these lands. The world was too cruel for creatures like you, beings of blood and birth and twisted innards. You were strangers in a land of men, wanted only for flesh and tossed to the side once you’d outgrown your usage. 

These men may own your names, but you would never let them own who you were. You would wage war against König’s chains, hold strong until the last dying light left your dead eyes. You would resist his will to crush whatever life lay within you. You could endure. These men might see you as weaker and frail, but as easily as they asked you to work they forgot how they honed your bodies through serving them.

You struggled and strained to pump the rusty well for a bubble of tinted well water and you thought about how doing these sorts of chores hardened your form. As you lugged buckets of water over your shoulders you thought about how strong your legs would become after years of making this steady march. Your arms cried out pathetically as you scrubbed the armour down on the washboard. Your skin was scalded by the boiling water and by the end you felt like you could barely feel anything at all. 

You grinned despite it. You would endure this suffering, you could use it to strengthen yourself. Then you would find a way to make this man pay for what he’d done to you. Maybe you could even find a way to track down your mother and make her pay as well. That was a later thought though. You had greater things to worry about, like who this König was and how you would live with him sleeping beside you. König could capture you, he could keep you in his wagon and he could slot himself between your legs each night, but you would not let him break you like your mother had been broken.

You would make them all pay for what they’d done to you. You would find a way.

You silently washed his armour free of your clan’s blood and tears. It was soothing to see the tub of water slowly turn pink and murky brown as you worked. By the time you had finished cleaning it, metal glistened in the watery sunlight, clean and pure as the white dress you wore. It was perfect.

When you went back to König’s wagon, you found that it was still empty.

You decided that without anyone to stop you, you’d try and find a needle and thread to darn the holes that had formed in the fabric. It was the least you could do, you figured.

You opened the first drawer and peeked inside.

There wasn’t much aside from bundles of heavy furs and valuable treasures. Evidently, König was a successful raider indeed.

Inside the second cupboard you found a variety of herbs and medicines stored in glass vials and pouches made of deerskin. This cupboard was neater than you expected, lined with care and precision you’d never known a man to possess. You decided that his late wives must have arranged this cupboard for him. You closed it with reverence.

The third cupboard was promising. You found a few cloth slings containing squares of fabric and woolen breaches, and under them you finally found what you were looking for. You held up the needle and thread with a triumphant cry.

You sat back on the bench that had been left pulled down and took out the black thread. You wet the tips of the string with your lips and slid them into the eye of the needle with practised ease. Being poor at least meant you were used to mending worn belongings. There weren’t many benefits, but you tried to find them regardless. It was a futile effort. All the pride in darning socks came at the cost of ratty clothes and broken toys.

The work was steady. It was easy. At this point, you probably didn’t even need to look down to know what you were doing with your hands. The metal plates that poked through the pockets were easily pushed back into place and the holes were mended quickly. It was sad, really. This was such easy work, but this armour was in such poor shape. Men were truly animals if they let their beloved belongings fall into such disrepair. It was a wonder they survived on their own. You looked down at your hands and thought about how long it must have been since someone had tried to care for these old armaments. 

You couldn’t do much about the dents, but when you were done the armour looked practically brand new. Truly, you’d outdone yourself. You’d never been more pleased with your work. And how long had it taken? By the look of the sun in the sky, longer than you would’ve liked.

You furrowed your brows. König hadn’t shown you his kitchen, but you knew he would expect you to cook for him. With a sigh, you turned back to the cupboards. Surely they’d save you once more, right?

Luckily for you, you found a decent stash of preserves that were stored at the bottom of the final cupboard you checked, hidden there alongside a pot and a pan and a few wooden utensils. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing. You whistled a jaunty tune and picked up a few recognizable ingredients before you left the caravan to go and make a fire outside.

Cooking was something you were good at. You knew how to make do with very little. It was a necessity in your old home, to make more with less. With a twist of your hand you could feed an entire crowd with a basket of fish. It was easy when it came down to it. The key was to rely on simple, readily-available pantry staples, the ones others would ignore in favour of a convenient meal. If you just put in a bit more time and a bit more effort, you could make something just as satisfying for half of what it would otherwise take.

You scoured the land for some appropriate firewood. You found plenty of dry grass for tinder, but actual wood was hard to come by in these parts. You'd have used dried dung to burn, but all that you found was too fresh to use.

As you were searching, you stumbled across another woman.

“What’re you doing out there?” the woman swept her short cropped black hair over her olive-toned ears as she gave you a withering scowl.

“I’m finding firewood,” you explained sheepishly, “or dried shit. Something to burn." 

“Firewood?” she barked out a laugh, “you won’t find any around here. These are the plains, there won’t be a tree around for miles. Come with me. I’ll get you some wood. We just came from up north, so there's plenty to share.”

“What?” you shook your head furiously, “no, I’m sorry, I can’t afford to trade for any-”

“Trade for any?” the woman laughed, “I’m just giving you a couple of logs. You don’t need to trade me anything for logs!”

Your eyes boggled at the statement. How could she be so flippant about such a precious resource? With such scarcity of trees, they were one of the most precious resources you could come by. How did she have her hands on surplus wood?

“Come on, I don’t have all day,” the woman called and turned back to the heart of the convoy, “and don’t worry about trading. I’ve got enough to spare.”

You scurried behind her.

Within an hour, you were cooking a meal of salted ox meat and plain barley. Beside you, the woman from earlier was watching you work.

“You’re not using any spices?” Salvatrice muttered as she watched you stir the pot, “at all?*

“I don’t need any,” you replied, “this is good enough on its own.”

“But it tastes so much better if you just add even a little bit of pepper…”

You scoffed, “I don’t need it. My husband will be happy with what I give him. If he isn’t, I can take a beating any day of the week.”

“Are you sure?” Salvatrice asked, “my husband would be furious if I gave him this. And what’s this about a beating?

“Then he’s a fool,” you huffed as you stirred the pot.

“You ignored my question.”

You gave her a weary expression, “If you don’t know that husbands beat their wives, then you are a lucky woman indeed.”

Salvatrice looked at you strangely.

“You know if your husband is found beating you, you can find a new one? Our new chief is keen on making sure we are cared for properly. There’s plenty of other men to choose from,” Salvatrice raised a narrow black brow.

You scoffed, but said nothing more.

Salvatrice put her face in her hands and muttered darkly to herself. She only looked back at you when a pop of fat nearly spilled over the pan.

“Careful,” she scolded you.

“I am,” you said, “the fat is meant to pop like that. You cook plenty, don’t you?”

“All women cook in these lands,” she replied dryly.

“Then you know I’m making the most with what I have.”

Salvatrice glanced from the pot to the caravan behind you.

“It looks like your husband can afford better than this, if you ask me.”

You glanced behind you, “Maybe. He probably can. But he didn’t give me anything to work with. This is all I found.”

“Your husband doesn’t provide for you?” Salvatrice shook her head mournfully, “what sort of man are you married to? First you talk about beatings, and now you tell me he starves you?”

“He’s a brute, if you ask me,” you snorted and stirred again.

Salvatrice looked into the pot and hummed, “It doesn’t look as bad as I thought. Plain, but not bad.”

“Plain is all I ask for,” you said.

“But really, a husband that doesn’t get his wife good food to cook with, doesn't even give you logs for fire, has you searching in the grass for dung like an animal. I can’t believe it! It’s not like anyone is wanting for anything here,” Salvatrice said flippantly, “most men can get fresh meat every week.”

“Every week?” you whipped your head to her.

“What?” Salvatrice tilted her head to the side, “wait… Are you not from here?”

“No,” you replied bitterly, “I only just came here today.”

Salvatrice gasped loudly.

“What’s that reaction for?” you snapped.

“You’re one of that clan, aren’t you?” Salvatrice whispered.

“What? The clan KorTac slaughtered today?” you grumbled, “do you not even know our name?”

“I know your clan’s name!” Salvatrice defended herself quickly before settling back on her haunches, “I just didn’t realise. Then… Then who is your husband? You must have just met him today, right? Why hasn’t he gotten you settled in yet?”

You stirred the pot and shrugged.

“You’re right that I only met him today. I don’t know him well enough yet, but I know that his name is König.”

Salvatrice gawked at you again. This time not even a gasp escaped her slack jaw. She slowly covered her mouth and looked at the caravan behind you.

“No…”

You scowled.

“I mean, I should’ve guessed by the quality of your vardo, but still…” Salvatrice looked like she’d keel over any second with how pale she’d gone.

“What?” you glared at her, “he told me he had worth. Was he lying? Is he worth much around here?”

Salvatrice nodded slowly.

“Worth a lot?” you raised a brow.

Salvatrice nodded quickly.

“Then why the hell am I cooking this?” you huffed and stirred the pot again.

“König is the best raider in the entire clan,” Salvatrice muttered into her hands, “he’s the next chief in line, or so people say. But if you ask me, he’s a monster.”

That grabbed your attention.

“He’s a what now?” you asked.

“A monster. A beast! He’s killed three people!” Salvatrice exclaimed, “he killed both his wives and their suitor in one day. He did it smack dab in the middle of our camp! I damn near lost my mind when my husband told me about it. And now I hear he beats his wife? Disgusting.”

“Wait, a man as well?” you asked and put the wood ladle down, “also he hasn’t beaten me. Yet. I just thought that was what men did to their wives.”

“That is…” Salvatrice shook her head, “that’s just sad. I doubt König would ever raise a hand to you, but I don’t know for sure, seeing as he killed two wives before,” she waved her hands as though she could push the thought away. “Anyways, the man König killed was trying to turn König’s wives against him and take his property,” Salvatrice explained, “I understand why König did what he did, of course I do, but I think he went too far that day. Killing two women? And a man? All in one day! It’s just unthinkable.”

“He killed plenty more when he raided my clan,” you said quietly.

“But these people weren’t from another clan,” Salvatrice insisted, “these were his own people. It’s one thing to raid, it’s another entirely to murder!”

You glared at her, “I don’t see much of a difference.”

Salvatrice rolled her eyes, “I can’t imagine you would now.”

You felt that same curl of rage from earlier stir within. You were about to bite into her when she cut you off.

��Look, you just need to understand that König is a big name around here,” Salvatrice leaned in close, “he’s the best raider we have. He goes into the lost cities and comes out with the biggest hauls. Never has a scratch on him. When we travel south he gets the best deals. When he goes north, he helps young couples build their wedding wagons for free. The man is a legend here, but nobody would dare marry a woman killer.”

“So if nobody would willingly marry him…” you trailed off.

Salvatrice sighed, “I’m sorry for you. I really am. But if he beats you, tell me and I can try and find you a new husband.”

You stared into the fire silently. So this was your husband. A woman killer and yet also a hero among his people. He was a god and he was the devil, and nobody would touch him. You were just the unfortunate woman he found when raiding your clan.

“How old is König?” you asked quietly.

“He’s getting older, but not too old,” Salvatrice tossed you a knowing smile, “he might seem like an old man, but I hear from those who've needed him that he still has a young man at heart. And if you thought he was tall? Well, he’s got the inches where it really matters.”

You pursed your lips into a line. Just what you wanted to hear about the man bedding you tonight. You really just hoped this Salvatrice would speak about anything else.

He was still a woman killer. In fact, he wasn’t just a woman killer, he’d threatened your life within your very first conversation. How unfortunate. As König would say, a pity.

“So König is a good provider,” you finally said, “and a… ‘Big’ man.”

“A very good one,” Salvatrice agreed, “and supposedly, a good lay. You didn’t hear that from me, of course. But from what the other wives have told me, you’re a lucky woman if you can bed him. He produces the healthiest offspring of any man in this clan. Most men here can’t produce at all anymore, but he’s fertile enough to lend his services to others who need it. They may not marry him, but sometimes desperate times call for desperate measures. 

“Best of all, he’s an excellent father, even to those who aren’t his own. Honestly, maybe this is good for you. If it weren’t for him being a woman killer, he’d probably have his own harem.”

“Good for me?” you spat.

“König is reliable, if nothing else,” Salvatrice shifted her weight, “most men take risks when going into the lost cities. My husband tells them to be more careful, but you know how young men are. König is smarter than them though. I’ve heard a lot about the lost cities from my husband. He always tells me that they’re the most dangerous places left after the collapse, but König always comes home in one piece. That’s more than most raiders, right?”

“At least if he died I’d get his wagons,” you huffed bitterly.

“Well…” Salvatrice sucked air through her teeth, “I think his eldest son would, actually.”

“He has a son old enough to inherit?” your eyes widened.

“He had his first when he was just married at eighteen I think, maybe younger,” Salvatrice examined her nails subtly, “the boy’s at least sixteen by now. Nearly old enough to take a wife of his own. Old enough to inherit for sure.”

“Does he have any matches lined up?” you asked nonchalantly.

“He has one woman he’s been courting,” Salvatrice smiled fondly, “she’s shy, but they seem to be a good match. I think she’d be a lucky woman to be wed to him.”

“Is he better than his father?” you glanced over at her.

“Well, he’s not a woman killer,” Salvatrice shrugged.

You thought that was a low blow, but she had a point.

Salvatrice left by the time König came back to the vardo. He took two sniffs of the smoke rising from the pit before narrowing in on you.

“What are you cooking?” he asked as he crouched by the fire.

“Salted yak meat and barley,” you stated simply.

“That’s a very plain meal,” he remarked before straightening up and walking back into the caravan. He came back a moment later with two ornately carved mahogany bowls.

“These look too nice to eat from,” you said as he pushed one into your hand.

“I got them long ago,” König replied, “if you know where to go in the raids, they’re easy to come by.”

“You didn’t trade for these?” you raised the bowl up to look at the greek key carvings along the rim.

“No,” König shook his head, “if I wanted to work with my hands, I’d do better things.”

“Like what?” you snorted.

“Build another wagon,” König shrugged.

You gave him a strange look, “With what wood?”

“From the north west,” König said as he held out his bowl for you, “we go there once a year. We stay for two months and then head south to the opposite coast and stay there for another two months. The whole trip takes about a year to complete. That's how we get enough supplies to last for the four month journey each way. We've built strong relationships with both the Sea Wolf settlement up north and Miami down south.”

You generously ladled a rich broth over a heaping mound of barley as you told him, “I’ve never been far north. I’ve only ever really been in the plains and the desert south of here.”

“Harsh climates,” König said bitterly as he took the bowl from you, “best only travelled during the middle of the year. It’s better to be north west or south east during the summers and winters.”

“North? Really? I was told the farther north you go, the worse it was,” you shook your head dismissively.

“There are mountains along the west coast,” König said wistfully, “the climate is easier on us. The trees are tall, the mountains taller. During the seasons we visit it rains, and if snow does come we’re long gone by the time it arrives. We could honestly spend our winters there if we wanted to.”

“Really?” you struggled to believe him, “the winters were terrible when we went north.”

“You don’t travel far enough to escape the cold,” König picked at his food before bringing his spoon under his hood, “your territories were too small.”

“We didn’t have the supplies to travel further,” you felt strangely defensive.

König slurped from his spoon loudly, “Your chief could’ve made better deals. Instead, he poisoned my father and lost everything, including you.”

“I wasn’t responsible for that,” you snapped.

König snorted as he took a bite of salted meat, “I’m not complaining. If he were smarter, I wouldn’t have a new wife.”

You swallowed heavily. It seemed like everyone in KorTac liked to throw your clan’s past in your face. You didn’t know why you were humiliated though. You weren’t the one to poison the chief of KorTac. Anybody with a brain knew that doing such a thing would only end in disaster. Nobody could’ve known what your chief was planning to do.  If they did, they would’ve intervened for sure. Or so you hoped.

“You cook well,” König poked at the barley, “but it is plain. You know you can use herbs and spices here, right? I know you saw some of my collection. I stored them in the same cabinet as the pot.”

“I didn’t want to use something so precious,” you scoffed derisively.

“Precious?” König squinted in confusion, “how are they precious? They are common along our travels. Road-side flowers, we call them that.”

You flushed. Of course they would be. The KorTac clan had always had the best trade routes across the land. They were probably the strongest raiding group the world had seen since the collapse.

“We never passed those places,” you huffed, “I didn’t think they were that easy to come by.”

“When I say that I can give you everything you want, I mean it,” König chuffed, “you’re my wife. You can have whatever you want whenever you want.”

“Hot baths?” you snorted.

“I have a wooden tub on the top of my storage wagon for soaking.”

You frowned and set your bowl down, “Fruits?”

“I have some preserves from the south.”

“How about this,” you smirked confidently, “what if I wanted fresh meat every day?”

König finally set down his empty bowl and sighed. He patted his stomach and said, “If my wife asks for meat, she can have it. Anything you desire is yours. All you have to do is ask.”

You reeled at his words. Anything at your fingertips? Anything at all? All you ever wanted whenever you wanted and more. Everything you could possibly desire, and all you had to do was ask.

“I struggled to find something to fuel the fire around here,” you stared into the pit, “Salvatrice gave me some wood. She laughed when I asked for dried dung.”

“Salvatrice? She’s our doctor’s wife,” König mused, “a powerful ally. Stay on her good side. Her husband is a good doctor to my men. I’d be dead many times over if it weren’t for him.”

“A pity,” you muttered.

König glared at you. You returned his look with a cool expression. You could see the corners of his eyes turn up.

“You think I like being here?” you snapped.

“No,” König said as he took your bowl from you, “but I thought you might be less vocal about it.”

“I’m only doing this because there’s no other option,” you said as you took the bowls back roughly, “now give me those. I need to clean them.”

“Do you know where to clean them?” König asked.

“At the fountain, right? Just boil the water and it's good.”

König nodded and let you go.

When you came back from washing the bowls, the fire had been put out. Ghosts of smoke wafted up and into the dawning twilight. You sighed out a cloud of white mist and stepped into the caravan.

Inside, König was admiring your needlework by candlelight.

“You actually have candles?” you asked as the wick crackled in the brass holder behind his head.

“Beeswax from a colony of beekeepers south of us. They have so many that they’re practically free,” König replied as he set his helmet down, “you did well with these. I’m proud.”

“I’m good at mending,” you replied as you put the bowls back in the cupboard.

You sat across from him as he picked up one of his black iron shin guards and hummed, “So you are.”

He tilted the metal back and forth approvingly. He put the shin guard down and picked up the shoulder pads, nodding again at your handiwork. He gave another approving hum and set them aside as well. König drummed his fingers on the table for a moment. You were thinking of a thousand snide remarks to make when he stood and leaned over you.

“Duck,” he said gently as he opened a cabinet.

You did, only to realise the cabinet was too far above your head to be a worry. You looked up to see him pulling out a small glass jar filled with something white and speckled with orange spots.

“Hm, you’re shorter than I thought,” he commented as he pulled the jar from the cabinet and sat back down on the small bench across from you.

“This here, this is precious,” he opened the rusted metal latch of the jar with a delicacy unbefitting such thick fingers, “but I believe you are worth it. Here, have one.”

He fished through the white powder and passed you a piece of something tough and orange. It was encrusted in white granules of dust that flaked off at your touch.

“What is this?” you asked as he put the jar away.

He sat back down and nodded at you encouragingly, “Something sweet. Eat. You’ve earned it.”

You didn’t like to think of him rewarding you with food like a dog, but you were too curious to resist. You sniffed it gingerly, then gently nibbled on the chewy good.

It was an explosion of citrus sweetness on your tongue. You were blown away by the burst of flavour coating each and every surface of your mouth. How did something so sweet exist? Were there other things this sweet? The taste was like nothing you’d ever had before in your life. The only thing you could compare it to was a rind of lemon peel you’d been given by a trader. Unlike the peel, it was delicious. It was chewy and crunchy, sweet and fruity. You’d never had fruit this sweet before.

“What is this called?” you asked as you took another nibble, savouring each bite.

“Candied orange,” König’s pupils were blown wide in the dark, “it’s a delicacy in the south. The white powder is called sugar, made from tall roots that grow in the islands.”

“The islands?” you’d never heard of such a place.

“There are a cluster of tropical islands farther south than where we can travel on foot. Our final stop going this way is a former lost city called Miami, and they have access to a fleet of merchant ships. They trade with the southern islands, and sugar is something they bring back, along with other strange goods like parrot feathers and perfumes made from their native flowers. They’re expensive to trade for, but the candied fruits they make last all year.”

“All year?” your eyes widened.

“Like jams,” König nodded eagerly, “but these ones only get better with time. The remaining sugar can be used in other recipes, too.”

“Do you have a lot of this sugar?” you asked eagerly.

“I don’t have much,” König admitted, “I only have enough for me and my children until we get to Miami. If you’d like, you can use some to cook with. It won’t be more than three months until we get there. We can get more sugar there if we run out.”

The final piece of orange slowly melted away on your tongue.

“I’ve never tasted anything like this,” you admitted quietly.

König’s breathing grew heavier, “All this and more. It’s all yours.”

You looked down at the crumbs of sugar left on your sticky fingers. The little granules glinted like crystal snow in the candlelight. It was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen in your hands.

You licked your fingers clean, leaving them sticky with your residual saliva. König watched you hungrily, almost as though he was starving just looking at you. His eyes were too wide, too intense. He frightened you to your core. You leaned away to focus on the crumbs.

You licked the final finger clean, “You’re not giving this to me for free.”

König laughed heartily, “I will give you whatever you need to be my pretty little wife.”

You looked down at your empty hands. They still felt sticky.

“What do you want me to do for you?” you asked solemnly.

König blinked, breaking the trance. You felt like you could breathe again.

“Be my wife,” he told you, “what about that don’t you understand?”

“But what does that mean, ‘to be my wife’?” you pressed.

König gripped the edge of the table tightly before manually relaxing his muscles. His eyes took on a look you’d never seen in a man before. They were dark like stormclouds, raging like thunder. His pupils seemed to soak in every move you made.

“You will act as my wife,” he croaked in his lilting accent, “you will clean my clothes, cook my food. When I am hurt, you will nurse my wounds. When I am tired, you will prepare my bed for me. You will care for my children. And most importantly, you will bear me many more.”

Reality crashed in. Of course. You’d forgotten about this while you’d been eating your treat. König needed a wife for more than just playing house. He needed a companion, a mate. He needed to seal your marriage as quickly as possible, to start bearing fruit and formally solidify your bond.

“What do you want from me?” you whispered.

“I want you to have my children,” König rasped.

“When?” you asked nervously.

He leaned in close, “Tonight.”

You felt your heart pound in your chest.

“Does it have to be tonight?” you bit the inside of your cheek.

König took your hands in his and rubbed his gloved thumbs over the back side of your palms, “If you are by my side, I can promise to protect you from any other man. But I can only do this if I have my claim on you. Without my babe on your hip, my stake on you is meaningless in this land.”

You slumped in your seat. You had no choice in the matter. As a woman, you were to provide for your husband in every which way he desired. You were his to use as he pleased. If you were lucky, you wouldn’t cry the whole time. You just hoped it wouldn’t hurt you as much as it hurt your mother.

“If we must,” you conceded bitterly.

“We must,” König slowly stood.

He held out a hand for you to stand beside him. You ignored it entirely. You looked down at your many layers of clothing. Your stained apron, your rumpled frock. You had never been bare before a man before. In all honesty, you’d only ever seen immodest men briefly before you’d turned your cheek. You had no such opportunity to do so today. Unfortunately for you, your new husband was bigger than any other man you'd ever encountered. If Salvatrice was right in her rumour-mongering, he would tear you asunder. You feared what he kept beneath his tunic.

“Would you like to undress in here or in the bed?”

“In the bed please,” you practically begged him.

König looked so sad as he reached out and pulled the door to the bedroom open, giving you a view of your new marriage bed for the first time.

You knew immediately that this was the best bed you’d ever laid eyes on. Not even your old chief’s bed helf a flame to this majesty. The entire room was dedicated to this gigantic bed, stretching from wall to wall beneath two shuttered windows on either side and bordered in by a giant plank of wood at the foot. Only the base of this bed was hay, unlike the bare straw you’d slept on your entire life. Instead of just scratchy straw to lie on and toss and turn in uncomfortably, layers of thick furs had been laid out over top of the hay to form a thick barrier. On top of said furs a layer of bright and colourful woven blankets had been spread out, the likes of which you’d only ever dreamed of touching as a young girl. In the back, a mountain of plush, colourful pillows crowded under a row of black cupboards. It looked like paradise.

You couldn’t hide the sheer awe in your tone when you whispered, “This is our bed?”

It nearly came up to your hip in height.

“Every night we will share this bed,” König told you before turning behind you, “you can undress in there and put your clothes along your side of the bed, which will be the left. You will stay away from the door when we are sleeping. I don’t want a man coming in and stealing you at night. I will put the bar down each night, but it would give me comfort to keep you far from it.

“When you are done, get under the covers for me. I will join you after I get undressed and put out the candle.”

You flushed and crawled in as quickly as you could, letting him shut the door after you quietly.

You shed your double dresses slowly. Your stockings and underwear came off next, bundled into your undergarments and tucked to the side of your new plush pillows. As soon as you had properly tucked them away, you tucked yourself into the blankets and furs nervously.

“I’m ready,” you called so quietly you doubted he heard you.

You turned to look at the rest of the bed. The blankets looked almost like the woven tapestries wives would weave as the caravans travelled from place to place. Instead of depicting bison and prairie dogs, there were pictures of fish and bears and ravens. Some bore elk and moose, wolves and deer, and some were beavers swimming through sparkling lakes. A few had depictions of soaring eagles and burning suns. You took a moment to feel the soft wool under your delicate fingertips. You expected this to be the only softness you’d be graced with tonight.

“I’m snuffing the candle,” König’s voice was muffled through the wood. You heard the pop and hiss of the wick, then the groan of the wooden door sliding as König pulled the door to the side.

You didn’t dare look at König as he crawled into the bed. You couldn’t bear to see his nakedness just yet. You closed your eyes and hid your face in your hands.

You listened to the shuffle of blankets, the fluffing of pillows, and then finally a heavy sigh as König settled into the bedding. He shuffled dangerously close behind you far too quickly for your own comfort. In all fairness, you’d have preferred him to stay on his side of the bed and leave you alone entirely.

Alas, you were a woman, and your opinions had no bearings here.

“The moon looks beautiful tonight,” he whispered behind you.

True to his word, when you opened your eyes and looked out your window, the moon hung like a beautiful grey-blue disk in the night sky, a second sun surrounded by her loving daughters. You wished you could dance among them, far away from where König wrapped his arms around you and tucked you in close.

[Smut can be found at KoFi HERE]

Sleep claimed you quickly that night.

Over the next few weeks you formed a sort of routine with König and the KorTac clan.

On weekends you’d take long walks along the countryside with Salvatrice. She took the time to guide you in search of flowers and herbs for her husband as you walked. You learned that her husband was a capable enough man, but because the raiders were always coming to him with new aches and pains that he was usually too busy to even try to leave the medical tent. As you walked beneath the trees, you’d listen to her explain the latest gossip around the clan and endure her comments about how strange your old clan was compared to the glory of KorTac. Strangely, you found yourself missing your old clan less and less the more she talked. You even found yourself agreeing with her sometimes. You missed your family, but they had abandoned you without so much as a shed tear. In addition, if it weren’t for them leaving you behind, you never would have been left in König’s care. You would still be starving each night and hating every man that caught your eye. You would still be suffering.

Sometimes it hurt to think about how you were slowly forgetting the faces of your old clan. Pain was exchanged for peace and comfort, the past melting away with each passing day. Forgetting was a comfortable pain. You were happier here, and for that you were sad. At the very least, you were loved now. You had gained so much since you’d been accepted into the KorTac clan. 

Even that bitter shepherd who’d stared at you when you had first come had softened to you. He liked to teach you how to milk König’s goats and turn it into cheese and yogurt in stomach pouches. You learned his name was Nikto, and though he was a strange one to be sure, he was a good man underneath his mask. A former raider, he’d retired when he lost his wife to another man while he’d been away. He’d since taken another couple of women to warm his bed, but you could see the pain in his eyes when he spoke of the one he’d lost. He told you that the black mask he wore was like König’s; he wore his mask to hide his scars from the world. You’d asked to see them, but he sighed and told you that men like him weren’t meant to taste the sun anymore. You gave him a tight hug and promised he would be okay.

 Nikto was a good friend, but he wasn’t the most important man you had in your life. You had a loving husband in König. He would eat dinner with you and his children each night, sharing laughter and stories over pots of herbed soup you made for them. 

You learned that his eldest son was named Peter, and the woman he desired was the new chief’s daughter. König would warn him that Klaus was protective of his darling, but you could tell he wanted the match to go through. As Peter spoke more of her, you hoped the match would be approved too.

You loved this gaggle of children and they in turn doted on you as though you were their own mother. You skinned trophies with his sons and learned to read with his daughters. You’d asked why they read before and they told you that it was to ensure they could survive on their own if they wanted to. How they thought they could was beyond you, but the fact was that they had hope. When you were a young girl you never would’ve had half the courage and strength these girls had. A part of you was jealous, a bigger part was proud.

Since you’d come to KorTac, you could confidently say you were completely loved and supported in every way you could possibly imagine. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

—

The caravans chased the clouds as they followed the trade route south. The wagons trundled over plains and trailed forest paths alike as you were brought closer and closer to the coast. The world was changing around you as you moved through the lands. You saw things you never imagined seeing before. Mountains crawled up like great giant spines breaking from the earth. Mystical blue lakes spread vast across the horizon. Your world was expanded with each mile this clan travelled along their usual trade route.

König said you weren't close enough, but you swore with each passing day you could already feel the water in the winds. He laughed and told you that such couldn’t be for another month at least. You told him you could tell by the burn in your nose and he patted your head with a snort.

Of course, going south meant great changes. It was after you crossed the largest river you’d ever seen that you were forced to face the realities of König’s role in KorTac.

“Are you really going into the lost city?” you asked as you watched him methodically put on each piece of armour.

“I have to,” König momentarily leaned down to kiss your forehead, “I promise I will be back soon.”

“How soon?” you asked as you stirred a pot of soup.

“Not long, my little wife,” he ruffled your hair, “I’ll be home in just a couple of days. It doesn’t take long to fill the supply wagon. The ride home is always quicker than the ride out. My men always want to go home as quickly as they can.”

“Don’t be too late coming home, otherwise you’ll miss dinner. The children would never forgive you if you did,” you said as you tasted the broth, “this soup needs more salt. We’re running low on salt these days.”

“We can get some when we reach the coast,” König assured you.

“You’d better come back,” you grumbled, “the merchants in the settlements don’t like my trading tactics.”

“They aren’t used to women knowing how to read. Most of them have never even traded with a woman at all,” he chuckled, “especially not one as stubborn as you.”

“If they charged a fair trade I wouldn’t have to be so ‘difficult’,” you griped.

König laughed and leaned down to kiss you again, “I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

You swatted him with the spoon, “Just come back soon. And bring me some cloth if you can find any. The younger children keep getting holes in their jackets.”

“How do they keep doing it?” König muttered, “I keep telling them to be more careful when they go out. I really do!”

“I know you do,” you sighed, “but they’re getting so excited. They keep telling me about all the fruits that grow in the keys. They told me about these things called limes. They say they’re like lemons, but sweet. They want me to eat one for some reason. Peter is at least trying to wrangle them in for me. He told me I shouldn’t eat a lime, no matter what the rest say.”

“Peter only has two hands and he’s already got them full with Nikto breathing down his neck,” König grumbled, “I want Alice and Julia to step up and help him out.”

“Have you thought about marrying them off yet?” you asked.

“Marrying them off? Never!” König crossed his arms over his plated chest, “I won’t have it! My little girls won’t marry.”

“They’ll have to eventually,” you rubbed his sleeve tiredly, “it’s best to set them up soon.”

“But what if a man from another clan marries them? When would I ever see them? I can’t let them go like that.”

You tapped the ladle against the pot and put the spits of fish over the fire. You passed König a leather bag of raiding supplies and said, “If they are from the Sea Wolf clan up north or Miami down south, you could spend two months a year with them.”

“But that’s only two months!” König griped, “I don’t want to think of them being left alone for the rest of the year. How could I do that to them?”

“It’s better to marry them off to good matches than let someone else snatch them up,” you pointed out, “you wouldn’t want someone to take them like you took me, right?”

König nearly coughed up a lung before regaining his composure. He turned away from you as he quietly admitted, “No. No, I wouldn't want that.”

“So you’ll focus on getting them a match?” you poked him with the spoon.

König hung his head with a heavy sigh.

“I will try and find them a good husband. But I won’t go easy on those men,” he grumbled.

“Think of some good matches while you’re gone,” you said as you hugged your giant husband from behind, “I like that big blacksmith in the Sea Wolf settlement. He’d be good for Julia. She’s had her eye on him for a while.”

“She has poor taste. He’s an ugly man,” König huffed.

“He’s perfectly fine. He’s strong enough to take care of her, and I know she’d like to work with the forge. That, and he’s skilled enough with his weapons to keep her safe from any other man that tried to steal her,” you pointed out, “just talk to the girls about who they’re looking at. I’m sure they’d be glad to do so.”

König rolled his eyes. He pried you off him and slung his sack of provisions over his back before he tossed a bag of jerky from one hand to another. He sighed and let his arms drop to his sides. 

He turned around and pet your hair sadly, “It might be easier to build a vardo with the cedar up north, but I’m not going to make it easy on him,” König was quick to add, “he might handle hammers all day, but I’ve seen how he holds a knife.”

“The Sea Wolves have been carving totems since before society collapsed,” you smacked his shoulder, “now go. If you stay any longer I’ll cry.”

“Don’t you think I’d want you to cry for me?” König’s eyes twinkled merrily.

“Well I don’t want to, so go!”

With that you booted your cackling husband out the door.

Now that you were alone, you had plenty of time to work on chores around the carriage. You could probably mend all those coats with what little cloth you had left, but if the two youngest boys kept up their careless ways then you’d run out before you even come close to Miami. You just hoped they’d listen to you or König or maybe even Peter and try to be more careful. You couldn’t waste your supplies now, not when you were so close to the former lost city.

Miami was a strange settlement. You’d heard about it happening in other places, but Miami was the first city you knew of to be taken back after the collapse. How they managed to pull it off, you had no clue, but it was heralded as a spark of hope in the new world. It proved it could be done.

As it was, the convoy had just arrived near the lost city of Memphis, a lost city that had been completely abandoned since the collapse. That’s why König had to go out on the raid. He could sometimes ignore the calls for hunts along the trails, but he was always needed on the raids. Klaus had once told you that if he didn’t have König go, he’d lose six times the amount of men. As it was, he was unlucky if he lost one.

You heard that once, Memphis had been a bustling metropolis. People from all over the world would visit Memphis. For what, you had no clue, but it had been popular enough. You heard it was in a place called Texas or Tennassee (you could never remember), which was part of something even bigger though that name had long since been lost to time. As it was, Memphis was a shadow of what it had once been. What was once a place of abundance was destroyed overnight. 

You heard whispers of what happened. Some said that illness broke out among the cities across the world, others told you there was a vast network of turncoats who poisoned each and every city across the land. Another group insisted that the seas were once lower, and when they raised many had to flee to the mainland. Some told you that they had just collapsed under the weight of their own overabundance. All these stories were traded in hushed tones whenever the lost cities were so much as mentioned. Many had ideas as to what had happened, but the only ones with answers had died long ago. Whatever had happened they took to their grave, and if they’d told anyone, it had been forgotten long ago.

You’d never been in a lost city yourself. In fact you never intended to go into one, but you heard plenty from König and his team about what lay within.

König told you all about the giant metal buildings that crawled for miles up into the sky. Along the streets, he said you could grab metal cans that people had once discarded like trash in the plastic bags that blew through the air.  Apparently you could grab a bag off every street corner, they were that abundant. That’s what raiders usually used to transport the goods they found back to their supply wagons. König told you that from what he could tell, people once were so wasteful that entire landfills were piled with treasures. The cities were filled with metal and stone alongside bountiful wild animals that became fat off the leftovers. Some had trees growing along cracked paths of stone. Somehow, the ancient people had so much glass that they could use it to coat every window in the entire city. You had only ever seen such luxuries in the wealthiest settlements, like Miami. König told you that these cities were filled to the brim with treasures like woven carpets, bountiful clothes, wires and ropes aplenty. They were beacons of resources for anyone brave enough to go in.

Lost cities glistered, but they weren’t made of gold. There was a reason they were feared. 

The streets were filled with the mutated refugees, the only remnants of the people who once lived there. Supposedly, the water had been contaminated, and over the years the people who tried to live in the cities changed until they were almost entirely unrecognizable. They’d become strange, ferocious creatures with long limbs and longer claws, running and crawling through the rubble like the rats they feasted on. König told you that most of them were at most half the size of someone like you, with bloodless skin and not a hair on their hide. König told you that he’d carve them to eat, but he feared their flesh was diseased or cursed. He told you of how they were vicious, and even though many had limbs that were just stumps or flails of flesh, they could still be just as quick as a full-grown man and twice as lethal. As such, König told you he destroyed as many nests as he could to try and clear out the ruins and push deeper into the metal jungles.

Even though König and the caravans had been travelling for decades, barely a dent had been made in reclaiming the resources in what were once suburbs due to the sheer abundance of refugees that crept through the wastes. You just hoped that they’d stick to the cities and not crawl into the wilderness. As it was, you’d mostly been lucky. You’d only heard vague stories of some in the woods, and that was mostly from terrified mothers spanking their naughty children over their knee.

You knew König was probably the most reliable raider in KorTac, but you still worried whenever he left. You’d heard the twisted legends told around bonfires of how wicked and sadistic the refugees had become since the collapse. Some told stories of cannibalism, torture, even bestiality among other evils. They were every aspect of sickness that you could imagine. You heard that, even if they looked like beasts, they were still technically human beings. The only difference between you and them was the water you drank, or so you were told. They were animals, but they were still just as clever as human beings like you or König. They could still plan. They could make traps.

But as clever as the refugees were, König was smarter. He was too strong and fast for them to try and pin him down and he was far too careful to fall into their machinations. If the men worked in groups, he said, they were always safe. He tried to share his tips with the his men, but scant few listened to him before marching off. Unfortunate, because the ones who did listen always lived longer. Alas, in a world run by young men’s fragile egos, arrogance ran rampant. König said that once he had been devastated by the losses, but he’d since learned not to be bothered. He said he could not save men from themselves. You still mourned them, but with pride came hubris, and with hubris came the weeding of the weak.

With those thoughts in mind, the next day passed by easily. You knew König would come home soon. There was always a chance he didn’t, but you knew those chances were too low to worry about them. Of course, that didn’t mean you didn’t get worried or lonely.

You tended to try and focus on chores and friends when König was gone. You learned pretty quickly that if you finished all your tasks before König even started making his way home, it made his arrival all the sweeter. No distractions, no worries, just time to spend with König and your family. You figured he needed it as well. 

He always seemed a bit strange when he got back. Not terribly so, but sometimes he scared you. It was like he lost a bit of himself out there, something that took a while to return to him when he came back to your side. Sometimes he’d pull from your touch, other times he’d ravage you for days. If you were patient, your König would arrive a week later, and you could sleep easily at night.

You’d never had him return from a lost city, but you had the feeling whatever he experienced out on the hunts would be amplified a thousand fold when he returned. You just hoped that would be sooner than later.

Whenever König left, you felt vulnerable. 

You knew that KorTac was a more civilised clan than your own, but still, you worried. There was no reason to think that someone might try and steal you from König. Everyone knew anyone stupid enough to try would be torn apart by König’s bare hands. The few men who’d even whistled at you had been beaten into the earth before he would drag you back to your bed.

König still hoped that you’d soon be full with his child. He constantly reminded you that you’d both be better off for it. You didn’t think it was possible for it to take so soon after he’d taken you as his wife, but he insisted you keep trying. He told you it was best to keep you as a happy mama by his side. You figured it was part of it was a claiming ritual that men had in these clans. 

In your old clan, a married woman was never safe around men. It didn’t matter how long they had been by a man’s side if they killed him and took her as his wife. That’s how your stepfather had taken your own mother as his own, and by doing so had damned you and your siblings to depravity.

KorTac was different though.

In KorTac, killing another man was seen as one of the greatest evils you could enact on another. Murder was unthinkable to them. Here, the way men stole wives was not by killing their husband, but by stealing from them once their wives were left alone. It wasn’t uncommon to see raiders come home to empty caravans. However, men seemed to recognize a marriage once a woman was round with child. In fact, the KorTac clan men almost seemed to revere women at that point.

You saw how Salvatrice was protected by other men when her husband was unavailable and how she was cherished by the children that followed her through the encampment. You were jealous of her. You’d never tell her that, but it was an unspoken truth between you both. 

You’d watched what happened to Rozlin, a woman you spoke to over the well, when she became pregnant. One day she was labouring as she carried buckets of water, and then the moment her stomach had grown the men around her treated her with a newfound respect and approval. She now walked peacefully through wagons and spoke with a proud confidence. You’d even seen her order a gaggle of teens to help her carry buckets of water to her carriage. You’d never seen boys jump to a task faster.

You’d asked Nikto about it once, and he wouldn’t stop laughing until he’d collapsed onto a bale of hay, and even then tears still streamed behind his mask.

“Those boys think that if other women see how well they treat a married woman, they might be more interested in marrying them ,” Nikto practically giggled with glee, “they think us fathers will be impressed by them. If not us, then our daughters. They think by impressing our daughters they will try to encourage us to marry them off if they see how much they care about a woman in need. There’s this one young man, Micheal, that’s desperate for my Anya’s hand. He keeps trying to show her how strong he is by carrying water for Rozlin every Friday. 

“Anya tells me he stinks worse than my yaks, and that’s enough for me to make up my mind.”

After that, every time you watched those young men bend over backwards you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. Still, they treated proven married women well. But unfortunately, not women like you. 

You still hadn’t had König’s child. Your womb was still empty. In their eyes, you were free for the taking, and though you’d shared your worries with König, he’d simply laughed.

He said that if anyone tried to take you from him, he’d kill them just like he killed the other man who tried. You told him he’d get banished but he shook his head.

“These people need me here,” König chuckled back then, “if they got rid of me, they’d all die. They know that. And so, they know not to take what’s mine.”

The men in this clan learned long ago to give you space since your first night with König. He’d looked positively pleased when rumours of your consummation together came back around to you.

You’d never been more humiliated when König’s close friend Kim had been laughing about not getting any sleep, but beside you König had never been prouder. As such, König stood taller as he gladly displayed you on his arm when he walked around the camp. Most men didn’t need another hint. You swallowed the humiliation as you looked into their knowing eyes, just happy they left you alone. If it cost Kim a night of sleep to stay safe, you’d do it in a heartbeat (and you did so often).

Unfortunately, that couldn’t be said for all of the men.

Saturday morning came, and you were woken by Darnell, the raiding party’s scout. He’d come to tell you that they were driving the supply cart back as quickly as they could as of last night. He grinned when you asked about König.

“Your husband is the one driving the cart,” Darnell chuckled, “he’s been keeping us awake at night because he won’t shut up about you.”

There was no way you could wipe the smirk off your face after that.

If König were to be arriving home, then you decided to put extra focus on cleaning the vardo for him. You took the time to wax the wood and brush the awning down for him before emptying the bed of old straw and refreshing it with new bedding. You went so far as to return early from the wells to make sure you finished your laundry early.

You had been cleaning your dresses and thinking about König when you heard a few men coming from afar.

You scrubbed your dresses over your washboard with new vigour when you heard a holler. At first you ignored them, but when you heard them closer to you, you stiffened and listened closely. When you could make out words coming from the yonder, you looked up.

You watched three young men slowly approach from afar. They held their heads high as they walked, oddly confident as they came your way. You wondered if they were part of the returning band of raiders. You looked around you to see if there was anyone else, but the carriages around you were quiet. It seemed König’s band of raiders still hadn’t returned. Based on the time, their wives would still be at the wells. As such, you were completely alone. You worried your lip and looked back at the newcomers.

You didn’t like how they were making their way directly to your vardo. They weren’t weaving around the lots to respect people’s personal space, they didn’t even seem to think about that at all. They were three young men who were clearly dead set on heading directly your way. You hoped they might be headed for someone else, but there was nobody behind you. Maybe they were looking for someone else, but something told you that wasn’t the case.

As the men approached, you heard one of them whistle.

“Hey!” the tallest one called out and waved one of his arms to grab your attention.

You squinted to try and make out his features. He didn’t look much older than twenty, if that. He was wearing armour. Maybe the raiders had come home.

“Hey!” he called again.

“Hey lady, my friend’s talking to you,” the dark haired one beside him chimed in.

You raised your hackles immediately. They were definitely headed your way. You looked down at the clothes in your hands and then back up at the oncoming men. You didn’t think you’d have enough time to get all the shirts off the clothesline. Still, you had to try. You didn’t want to lose your clean clothes without a good fight. It had taken you weeks to sew your latest dress.

“Hey lady,” the shortest one sing-songed, “make us a kettle, will ya? We’re thirsty from riding.”

You started packing up the wet shirts. Damn it all to Hell if they got musty, you needed to get inside.

“We know König’s not home. We passed him on the way here,” the dark haired one yelled.

“He’ll be home soon,” you snapped and ripped the shirts down. You hissed when you heard one rip.

“It’ll take an hour for the wagon to get unloaded,” the tall one lowered his yell to a call as he got closer, “he won’t be back for ages.”

“He’ll be back soon enough,” you replied as you plucked wet clothes from the line and dumped them in a wicker basket, “he’ll be eager to get home.”

“We got a large load back there. He’ll be busy for a while.”

“Stay away,” you warned them as you grabbed the basket off the grass.

The men picked up their pace.

You dashed to the door. Unfortunately, as soon as you tried to bring the basket up the steps it tipped over and your clothes were tossed all across the ground.

“Need some help there?” the boys were too close now.

You dropped the basket and leapt over it to duck into the vardo. You slammed the door shut behind you and slid the locking bar over the door frame. You managed to draw the shutters over the windows and locked them too. You heard them jostle the door as you slipped into the bedroom and latched the sliding door in place behind you. You cracked your bedroom window open just a crack as you burrowed under your side of the straw to listen in on them. You just hoped they wouldn’t notice.

“Hey! Open the door” you heard them yell.

You prayed they wouldn’t try anything stupid. It was one thing to steal a wife, but to go so far as to break into another man’s wagon was akin to social suicide in KorTac. You just hoped they cared enough about König and the chief’s wrath to stay outside. 

“Don’t make me do something I don’t want to,” you heard the tall one smack on the door again while the other two walked around the cabin to look for another way in. You couldn’t stop trembling beneath the sweltering furs. You tried to place the boys, but nothing rang a bell. You knew they must’ve been in König’s raiding group. The armour they wore was of good quality, and they knew the wagon was back.

“Aren’t you worried about König coming back?” you heard one ask, “he likes her a lot, and you know he’s not above killing people.”

“If we’re lucky, he won’t be back at all,” another one piped up, “the others will have dealt with him.”

You hoped König would leave early. Sometimes he did so if he wanted to see you badly enough.

“Hey lady! Come on out!” you heard one of them slamming on the front door, “if you come out now, we won’t bust up your wagon.”

There was no way they were going to actually break into somebody’s wagon. Especially not König’s. That was practically unheard of.

“If you come out now we’ll be nice to you,” you heard one circling out around the back of the caravan.

You tried to think about what you had to protect yourself with in the cupboards. You had a pot, a wok, a frying pan, a spatula, and a wooden spoon, too. You knew you had a good set of cooking knives, but you didn’t know how to fight with one. Not against raiders, at least. You’d be disarmed in an instant if you tried.  König had shown you that himself when you asked him why he let you have knives.

If they were of König’s band, then he would’ve trained them with weapons himself. You had no chance against these men.

You looked up at the ceiling of the bedroom. The top hatch was still unlocked. 

Shit. 

If you got up now, you were sure they’d figure out where you were and break in and drag you out. But, if they found a way on top, it would be too easy to get in and take you in your own home. You were damned either way.

You hoped and prayed that König would come home soon.

The boys took to slapping the walls of your vardo as they circled it to try and figure out where you were inside. You just hoped they wouldn’t notice the hidden ladder at the top of the back corner.

König had installed the ladder in case you got raided at night. The irony of a safety feature being the reason you’d be caught wasn’t lost on you in the slightest If they found the ladder, you were sure you’d be done for. You hoped König had hidden it well when he set up the camp site.

You tried to think about your options. 

Did you promise to meet anyone today? Was Peter going to come by? You hoped he would. He always liked to make sure his father was safe when he came back. Peter was a big boy, almost as big as his father. He wasn’t quite as tall, but he was broader than König for sure. König always pinched his cheek and told him it was baby fat, but these boys wouldn’t know the difference. Surely they’d be scared off by the threat of muscle.

If Peter wouldn’t come, then maybe Salvatrice might. She always liked to chat with König after a raid. He hated when she came by so quickly after he’d come home, but you’d rather have her there to help take care of you when König was in his wild mind. It amused you to see König seethe while she gave you the latest gossip from the doctor’s tent. She was one of the few people who was strong enough to face down König.

Then again, if she came around, the men might turn their sights on her. You were strong, so was Salvatrice, but you didn’t think the two of you could fend off three men, especially if they were trained raiders. These boys would’ve been trained to fight while being outnumbered. Two against three was far easier than what they were used to.

Why König’s own raiders would turn against him was beyond you. Had he done something to upset them? They had to know that if they stole you, they’d risk being banished from their raider band. König couldn’t get them banished, but he was close enough to chief Klaus that he could tip his hand and Klaus would have to act. They’d be lucky if they were even allowed to be traders once your husband was finished with them. 

Were you really worth losing all they had?

You gasped when they slapped the wagon right beside your head. You covered your mouth and quivered under the furs.

“Did you hear something?” one of them asked.

They slammed the spot again.

The group was silent. You felt yourself sweating bullets as you waited for them to move on. 

Just move on, you prayed, you didn’t hear anything. 

Just when you thought they might have gone, they slammed the spot again. This time you kept your mouth shut.

You waited.

“She’s not on this side,” one of them muttered.

You felt yourself  sag into the furs as you let out a silent breath in relief. You were safe, but only just. How long would it be until you were found? How long until they found the ladder? The fact they hadn’t found it by now was a miracle.

Just as you thought of the ladder again, there was a shout from outside.

Was that?

The sound of someone charging at the trailer had your heart swell in your chest. 

You heard the person yell again and you cried out in relief.

“Wait, she was right here!”

It was too late for them though

König’s here.

You heard your husband bellow in a strange language and the three men bolted away.

Metal clattered outside as he rushed to the door. The door jostled in its frame. You jumped up as you heard a heavy fist slamming the door.

You heard your husband yell something in a foreign language, curse, and try again,“OPEN THE DAMN DOOR!” 

You pushed the sliding door aside and grabbed the security board. 

From outside, you heard his voice crack, “Please… Please tell me you’re in there…”

You swung it up and pushed the door open.

König crowded you into the carriage as he stepped inside. He pushed you up against his bookshelf as his wild eyes scanned over you.

You trembled as he took you in. The sacks strapped to his back made him look bigger than ever before as his chest heaved heavily. His blue eyes looked red at the rims, his mask billowed out as he panted. He grabbed at your chin and tilted your face side to side roughly.

“Did they touch you?” he snapped as he grabbed roughly at your clothes.

“No they didn’t,” you swatted his hands away, “I got inside before they got too close.”

König caged you in with his arms and leaned over you. He raised his mask to reveal his lower jaw and grabbed your face to kiss you. He tasted of dirt and grime as he forced his tongue in your mouth and claimed you. You hit his chest as he stole your breath, only pulling back once your legs started to shake. 

He kissed you again and leaned his helmeted forehead against yours.

“I’m so sorry,” his voice shook painfully.

“We didn’t know this could happen,” you replied as your emotions bubbled forth, “just… Please don’t leave me again.”

“I-” König sniffed, “I have to. You know I can’t stay behind. They won’t let me. But… I can promise you I won’t let this happen again.”

“How though?” you shook as shock cleared from your mind.

König dug his head into the crook of your neck, rubbing you like a cat.

“I’ll figure something out,” he whispered before pulling back to kiss your forehead, “I promise I will. This will never, ever happen again.”

“But what if it does?” you slung your arms around his neck.

“It won’t,” he assured you, “I’ll kill every man and woman in this entire clan if that’s what it takes to keep you safe. I’ll do anything for my little wife.”

You pulled him in to kiss him, this time gentle and loving. His snarled lips pressed against yours with a tenderness unbefitting his goliath form. He caressed your jaw and hummed warmly, soaking in your affections.

But König was a man, and men were greedy. He pulled back with hunger in his eyes. The terror of the day caught up to you both in one fell swoop. He was losing control, and so were you.

“Make me yours,” you kissed him again, “I don’t want any other man ever looking at me again.”

He heaved his bags off his shoulders and devoured you whole.

[Smut can be read on KoFi HERE]

König petted your sides and yawned as he stretched in the bed. It seemed he could finally relax now that you were resting by his side.

“How long were you been trapped in here?” König played with the hair on the back of your neck.

“About an hour or two I think,” you felt tingles travelling down your spine as he worked his fingers through the ends of the strands, “I don’t know. I was just waiting for you to come home.”

“So they left as soon as we started unloading the supply wagon,” he murmured.

He grumbled something under his breath and kissed you again.

“I couldn’t have come at a better time,” he brought his palm to your cheek, “I’m so happy you’re still here.”

You kissed his wrist and held his hand, “I’m happy you’re home.”

König wrapped you into another hug. He rubbed your back and wrapped his other arm around your bare skin and pulled you close. He glanced at the sliding door and sighed.

“I’ll give you what I found later.”

“You found something for me?” you smiled.

“I always find something for my little wife,” König smirked, “it’s just hard to figure out what I can lay claim to at the end of the trip.”

“Can’t you take whatever you want?” you cracked your back, “you’re the raider captain.”

“Within limit,” König corrected you gently, “but I found a nice rug for the carriage, and some toys for our new baby.”

“I’m not even pregnant yet,” you laughed.

“Not yet,” König gripped your hip and pulled you against him, “it won’t be long though. I want this. You’ll be knocked up soon, little mama.”

You laughed and shook your head. You let yourself soak in his warmth, so hot it made you sleepy just lying against him. You felt your eyes grow heavy.

Before you closed your eyes, you felt König squirm.

“Not yet,” you warned him.

“I’m not thinking about that,” König replied, “I’m just wondering what happened outside.”

“What do you mean?”

“What happened with all these shirts?”

You laughed, “I dropped the basket when I rushed inside.”

König sighed and kissed you again.

“I was so worried when I saw them,” he said, “I thought… I thought they might have taken you already.”

“I’m still here,” you took his hand from your neck to kiss the inside of his wrist, “you don’t have to worry.”

König grunted, “I won’t when you’re with my child.”

“Well, until then, you’ll just have to trust me,” you snuggled into the blankets, “I’m yours forever.”

König settled into the beds with a sigh.

“And I am yours.”

König was quick to figure out who the teens were. More disturbingly, he’d uncovered their plan. As it turned out, there were seven in on it. Three were meant to take you, and four were meant to steal the supply wagon. It seemed they wanted to start their own clan by taking you and stealing König’s wagon and the supply wagon and traveling back west. How they intended to share you between the seven of them wasn’t quite clear. Men that age didn’t typically think things through that far.

Luckily, the four meant to take on König reconsidered at the last moment and told König about the plan. He was enraged, but grateful they’d thought better of trying to take you from him.

König was more than happy to dole out punishments for the men. Klaus had stripped them of their raiding titles, but not before König had his way with them. You didn’t ask too much about it when he’d come home late three nights later. All you knew was that he was eerily happy, and it was better to not ask any questions. When you saw one of the men months later, he hid from your sight as soon as he saw you.

You learned later that the men targeted you because they thought that you’d make a good breeding wife. Once König learned why they targeted you, he had been more keen than ever to fill you with his child. The next time your cycle was meant to come, he was relentless. You had been exhausted by the end of it, but you couldn’t be happier. A part of you worried that it might not take though. You were worried that you’d been so stressed over the past month that you hadn’t bled. You worried you were sick, because you couldn’t stop throwing up. Every morning you’d have to hurry out of the carriage, lest you get sick into the good blankets.

When you told König, he seemed to be of a different opinion. 

The next morning, König had been unusually keen to drag you to Salvatrice’s husband. He shoved you into a dress and dragged you out the door before you could even brush your teeth.

“König, I’m telling you that I’m alright,” you grumbled as he eagerly carried you over to the medical wagon, “and I can walk just fine.”

“I like carrying my little wife,” he cooed as you swatted him irritably.

“The walk is good for me,” you huffed.

“And carrying you is good for me too,” König laughed and cuddled you into his chest.

You weakly slapped his chest and settled into his arms. He chuckled as he walked to the medical tent in the center of the camp, humming nursery songs and rocking you fondly. You would smack him harder if you knew he wouldn’t drop you. 

Once you got to the center of the camp, you heard a voice from behind.

König happily turned as he adjusted your weight in his arms.

“Ho there, König!” the bearded man held up a hand.

“Hallo Klaus!” König warmly greeted the chief.

“What’re you doing with your wife? Are you alright?” Klaus asked as he sauntered over.

“König thinks I’m sick,” you groaned.

“My little wife is sick,” König chirped.

Klaus looked between you both and chortled merrily. He put his fists on his waist and looked up at his second-in-command with a big grin, “So have you told her the big news?”

König’s eyes widened.

You glared at your husband irritably. 

“What news?” you growled.

“The news about König and me,” Klaus pointed his thumbs to his chest with a wide grin.

“König’s told me nothing,” you snapped.

“He’s told you nothing?” Klaus shook his head, “you know, if you’re going to be the next chief, you really need to work on your communications skills.”

Your eyes nearly popped out of your skull as you looked up at König.

“I was going to tell you,” König huffed, “eventually. Really, I’m surprised you hadn’t heard about it before. Salvatrice is always telling you the latest gossip. I know because you always tell me what she told you.”

“I mean, she might’ve told me. It sounds familiar, but I didn’t really think it was true.

“But wait, why are you going to be chief?” you asked as you turned back to look at Klaus.

“I’m leaving the caravan,” Klaus chuckled, “once we get to Miami, I’m staying there. I was only meant to be a temporary chief anyways. I swore to look after KorTac until we got to the south, and then the title would go to the next chief in line, which was König. He just didn’t want to be chief immediately after his father died.”

You tilted your head to the side, “Why are you staying in Miami?”

Klaus grinned, “I found a good match down south! I figured it might be nice to settle down in the big city. Her father didn’t want her to travel, so I decided I’d give up the nomad life and settle down in one place.”

“But Miami?” you raised a brow.

“It’s warm,” he shrugged, “better than the Sea Wolves up north. It’s always raining there,” he shivered, “that, and I’d rather somewhere nice with lots of fruit. I can’t get enough of those oranges!”

“Wait, so oranges come from the south?” you asked eagerly.

“The south has tons of oranges!” Klaus cheered, “you can get oranges in anything down there! Oranges on their own are great, but there’s so much you can do with them. Marmalade, orange muffins, orange bread, orange juice, even orange candies and candied oranges! It’s great!”

Your mouth watered at the thought. You eagerly tugged on König’s sleeve, “Can we get some more orange candies?”

“You had candied oranges,” König quipped.

“Whatever,” you huffed and playfully smacked his chest, “you know what I mean.”

“Well…” König shifted you into one arm and scratched his chin under his mask, “if you don’t complain about going to the doctor, I could consider trading for some candied oranges.”

You nodded stoically, “Then my lips are sealed.”

König laughed and hugged you close to his chest.

“Careful König,” Klaus said, “you wouldn’t want to give her an actual reason to see the doctor.”

König rolled his eyes and turned to the medical cart, “Well Klaus, it was good seeing you. I need to get my little wife to the medic.”

Klaus waved goodbye and walked away, leaving you alone with König at the doctor’s tent.

“So you’re really going to be the chief of KorTac now?” you asked.

“Only once we leave Miami,” König said, “but we’re trying to keep it quiet for now, ja? You can keep a secret, my little wife?”

“I mean, if Salvatrice knows, don’t think it’s a secret anymore,” you mused as König stooped through the door and let you down..

You heard a couple of glass bottles rattling and something clanging to the floor before a man popped out of the corner.

“Hello?” he said nervously, “what’re you two doing here?” His eyes narrowed, “König, is this about-”

“König thinks I’m pregnant because I missed my last cycle and I keep throwing up. I think I’m sick and I keep telling him that I’ve just been stressed,” you rolled your eyes.

König leaned into the doctor’s ear and muttered something. As soon as he did, the doctor’s eyes widened and he gave you an excited smile.

“Well… I think I could figure out what’s happened here. I mean, there are really only a few possible options,” the doctor laughed to himself before turning around, “if you could just…” he pulled out a small cup, “give me a glass of your urine, I think I can do a simple test. It’s not perfect, but it’s what I’ve got.”

“You want me to piss in a cup?” you snorted.

“If the doctor tells you to piss in the cup, you will piss in the cup,” König grumbled over your shoulder. 

You gave him a dirty look.

“If you don’t want to do that, I have another option,” the doctor offered, “but I will still need your urine.

“Hold on, I just need to grab a couple of bags.”

You watched as he rummaged through his tent. He threw burlap sacks and wooden boxes onto the floor as he muttered and puttered about, evidently getting more and more frustrated as he worked.

While he worked, you heard someone push through the leather flap and turned to see Salvatrice walk in. She glanced between you, König and her husband.

“Hello?” she asked nervously.

“Ah, Salv!” the doctor cheered, “you wouldn’t happen to know where the wheat and barley seeds are, would you?”

Salvatrice’s eyes grew to the size of saucers. She grabbed you and König and clapped you both on the shoulder.

“Good job you two! I knew it wouldn’t take long with König, but I still didn’t expect it so soon!” she cheered while her husband groaned.

“Don’t say it yet,” he sighed, “we need to do tests first.”

“Alright, alright,” she rolled her eyes, “you need the seeds or the toad?”

Within half an hour, you’d been brought out to a nearby field with a bag of barley seeds in one hand and a bag of wheat seeds in the other.

“So I need to piss on these,” you crossed your arms over your chest before you turned to glare at König, “is this why you didn’t let me use the bathroom this morning?”

König nodded eagerly, “I asked the doctor about it earlier and he told me this was his best test. Well, that or injecting a toad with urine.”

“Is that why you needed the glass?” you shuddered.

The doctor held up his hands in a shrug.

“At least this is better than hurting a poor toad,” you muttered.

You rolled your eyes and looked around. You glared at the trio of onlookers.

“Can I at least have a bit of privacy please?”

Within two weeks König had taken to carrying you wherever he went. He was relentless. As soon as the bags of seeds had sprouted, König had decided then and there that you were pregnant.

“It’s only seventy percent accurate,” you grumbled.

“Well we have to wait a bit longer for the next test,” König said eagerly.

“The next test?”

“The doctor will just need to lift your dress and-”

“No.”

You sighed as you sat back heavily on the bench. The Miami heat was killing you. König put a hand on his shoulder comfortingly.

“You need a rest, Mama?” he laughed.

“I’m fine,” you grumbled as you tried to get up again.

König gently pushed you back down and grabbed a blanket for you.

“You need to rest, Mama,” he laughed as he scooched into the bench beside you and wrapped an arm over your shoulders.

“Stop calling me that,” you huffed, “I’m not a mom yet.”

“Soon!” König cheered and clapped your shoulder, “you know, I didn’t think it would take so easily…”

“You filled me for a week straight,” you groaned, “you were impossible.”

“And I can’t wait to do it again,” he kissed the tip of your nose.

“I’m only one woman,” you patted your stomach, “I don’t know how many babies I can have if they’re all like this.”

“Like what?”

“Like this!” you gestured to your bump, “look at how big this is!”

“It’s only a bit bigger than average-”

“Salvatrice told me I looked like a blimp. I don’t even know what a blimp is!” you rubbed your temples, “if all your babies are this big then I’m going to need some serious time to recover after each one of these giants.”

König narrowed his eyes, “I can accept that.”

“The doctor said I’m due in a couple of months, but it’s not fast enough,” you rubbed your stomach, “I just want this out.”

“He can take all the time he needs. If he needs to wait until we’re back on the road, then so be it,” König patted your stomach lovingly.

“I’m the one carrying it here,” you snapped, “I think I should be the one who decides when she comes out.”

“Sadly, little mamas don’t get a choice,” König patted your shoulder sympathetically as he looked down at your stomach. He leaned in and kissed your cheek before patting your bump.

“You can act cute, but I’m still mad at you,” you said bitterly.

“You can be as mad as you want,” König laughed as he stood up, “now look, what can I get to make you feel a bit better?”

You glared down at the table.

“Ah, of course,” König patted your head, “let me get your little treat for you. Now, close your eyes.”

You sighed and covered your eyes. König had decided that since your pregnancy hormones hit, you couldn’t be trusted to know where the candies were. You would’ve been angrier if he weren’t right.

“Open,” König stooped into view.

You held out your hand for your ‘little treat’, as König put it. As soon as it was in your hand you were nibbling on it.

“You look so cute with your little oranges,” König laughed, “little oranges for my little Maus!”

“Maus?”

“Maus! It means mouse in my home land,” König explained.

You nodded and continued nibbling. You briefly put it down as curiosity got the better of you.

“König, where do you actually come from?” you asked quietly, “you don’t sound like you come from anywhere we’ve been.”

König sat down on the bench with a grunt, “I come from a small place overseas. It was in central Europe, in a place that used to be called Austria. Not long before I was born, a horrible famine broke out near my settlement. It was mostly contained to one settlement, but then a group of merchants spread it to all the settlements around, including my own. It was devastating. So, seeing as I’d just turned old enough to marry, my family took the chance to move overseas. It was a hard trip to get to the coast, but I think it made me like living in a wagon. In the end, even a long journey over the continent and a month-long ship where we nearly died of scurvy was better than starving in a shitshack back home. At least here we had a chance to live.”

“I’m impressed you survived,” you mused.

“Most didn’t,” König agreed, “but myself and a few did. We decided on that ship that when we arrived, we would make a name for ourselves. That’s also where I met my first wives. My first wife was pregnant when we landed, and the second not long after that. To establish ourselves, we travelled south and took over this clan about… Oh, nearly two decades ago?”

“Is that why this clan became so strong in the past twenty years?” you asked.

“It was hard work, but we had a good trade route to develop off of. After my father took over we then made some good trade deals with some major settlements and, well, I think you know the rest,” König explained, “funnily enough, as we were travelling from my home to the coast, that’s when I became a raider. I started raiding with the other men and I fell in love with it. But those cities were different from the ones here. Hell, I can still remember the taste of the air in the lost cities back then. They were far worse than anything you’ll find over here,” his face fell, “far, far worse. Lost cities are practically a walk in the park here compared to the ones back home. It was in one of those lost cities that I got all these…” he gestured to his masked face and clothed body, “all these.”

You gently took his hand and squeezed it, “I’m glad you made it over.”

König leaned down to give you a swift kiss, “I’m glad I did too.”

You let yourself rest back in your seat. König adjusted the blanket around you before standing back and giving you a look.

“What?”

“Do you want to lay down and rest for a bit?” König asked.

You looked down at the blanket and then sighed, “Yeah.”

König grinned and swept you up in his arms before plopping you down in your bed. He happily climbed in after you and shut the door behind you.

He pulled you into his chest and held you in a tight hug before releasing you with a kiss on the forehead.

You laid on your side and held your stomach woefully, “I can’t get comfortable anymore.”

“Do you want to rest inbetween my legs?” König asked, already spreading his legs to make room for you.

You rolled into the space he made and rested your head down on his lap. You snuggled in close and closed your eyes as König wrapped the blankets over top of you. He easily made a little nest around the two of you and tucked you in tightly.

“König?” you muttered sleepily.

“Yes, my little wife?” he replied with a grin.

“I love you,” you said as you snuggled in closer.

König brushed your hair and hummed comfortably, “I love you too, mama.”

The rain pitter-pattered down onto the wagon as you sat outside with König. He adjusted the wood awning above you again and adjusted the reigns in his hand. In your arms, your newborn slept peacefully. You leaned into König’s side with a sigh.

“She’s so cute when she’s sleeping,” König mused as he looked down at you both.

“She’s always cute,” you fussed with her wool blanket, unable to stop the smile creeping across your face.

König sighed peacefully. The mountains of the north were finally coming into view in the distance. It wouldn’t be more than a couple of days before they entered the Sea Wolf settlement. You were already looking forward to sampling some of their renowned smoked salmon. You’d been wanting to try it ever since König had told you about it on your way down south to Miami. If you were lucky, there might even be some bread and yogurt to have it with when you arrived. König swore that it was perfect when you had something to go with it. You still had some crackers from the prairies that you’d been saving for the trip.

You took in a deep breath, the smell of fresh rain hitting the back of your throat. In the distance blue and purple clouds were hung up in the grey sky by wire hooks. From them fell a rain so light it might as well have been mist. The cool clung to you wherever you went when you travelled in these lands. You were already having to guide your wagon through the giant cedar forests, sometimes even going through a tunnel carved into a  tree. You marvelled at the world around you as you travelled.

“Maybe Klaus had the right idea,” you mused.

“What do you mean?” König asked.

“He went down to Miami for his new wife,” you yawned.

“You’re not telling me you want to give up on travelling already,” König scoffed.

“I mean, it’s nice here, isn’t it?” you asked.

“You’ve never experienced a winter here,” König pointed out as he guided the oxen around a steep hill, “it gets snow. Not much, but still snow.”

“We got a lot of that in the prairies when my old clan went south,” you said.

“But we get the best weather wherever we go if we stay on the road,” König slung an arm around you and tugged you in close to his side, “we go north in the summer and south in the winter. I heard people used to do that before the collapse.”

“Did they?”

“They called those people 'snowbirds’,” König pressed a kiss to your temple, “I’m just glad that wherever I go, I still have you.”

“If you didn’t, you’d be helpless,” you snorted.

“I managed just fine before you,” König rolled his eyes.

“Could you go back to that life after you’ve had me here?”

König hummed and slackened the reins, “Maybe not.”

“So then it’s a good thing I’m here.”

“It is a good thing,” König agreed.

Your bodies rocked with the motion of the cart rolling over the exposed stones along the forest floor. You glanced down at your daughter and sighed. She was still asleep.

“You can go and rest in the cart, you know,” König offered, “I’ve driven these roads alone for many years.”

“Would you prefer I left you alone?” you raised a knowing eyebrow.

“I wouldn’t prefer it,” König rubbed your shoulder, “I just know it’s cold and wet out here this time of year. I don’t want you or the baby catching a cold.”

“She has a name, you know.”

“I know,” König laughed, “I just… She’s my baby, ja? Just like you’re Mama.”

“Well, if Papa needs a break driving the cart, just let me know,” you kissed his chin through the mask.

“Are you going in then?” König asked.

“No, silly,” you nuzzled in close, “I’m just saying that I could do it if you needed a break. Anyways, it’s nicer out here.”

“In the cold and rain?” König snorted.

“With you,” you retorted.

He hummed and rubbed your shoulder comfortably.

The cart rolled along slowly and steadily. The rest of the convoy followed along, all patiently waiting to get to the next settlement. Little did anyone know that König couldn’t be more excited for the trip. He heard that the Sea Wolf settlement had made some recent developments over the past few months. Supposedly, another tradeline had been established with a far off colony in the east. As one of their preferred trading partners, KorTac would be getting first pick at their new wares. König looked forward to browsing through the new stock, grabbing some to trade and a few extra goods to spoil you rotten with. It had been years since the last route had collapsed under the weight of poor management. When it had been running, he’d been able to get his hands on rare carved statues and precious silk bedding. He wondered if those old paper fans had been brought back, or those giant clay pots. Those he liked the most. They were fantastic for storage.

König grinned to himself. He’d won in life. He found a good wife, he was a chief of a strong trading clan, and he had a wonderful family to call his own. He’d made a true name for himself in these lands, one to be honored throughout the ages. His heart swelled with joy.

Little did König know that right beside him, you were thinking much the same.

You’d spent years in the cruelest conditions known in the land. You’d stolen to survive and been shunned by your own clan. Back then, there was never a night that went by where your stomach didn’t ache from hunger pains. You were always struggling in one way or another.

But all that changed. Months ago, when König had stolen you away from your home, you’d figured that your life would be spent slaving away for an ungrateful man who only wanted food in his belly and a hole for his cock. 

You couldn’t have been more wrong. 

You’d been blessed to have a husband that truly loved to provide for you. He adored seeing you and your baby smile and laugh. He fought tirelessly to see to it that everyone he loved was well cared for, including you.

You’d been brought up to think that men were cruel, calloused, lazy. Men were creatures of greed and wrath in these lands. They were harbingers of suffering that thought only of their lusty desires and their lofty ambitions. Men were monsters, and that was that.

But not all men were monsters. 

Some men were kind and loving, helpful and honest and true. König was one such man. He was your gentle giant, your loving husband. He ensured that your every want was catered to. You never had to ask for much, as König provided what you desired before you could even think to ask him for it.

You smiled and held your baby close. You could finally say you lived a good life.

Konig Dump

Konig Alternate Universes

Full Version on KoFi HERE

[lordrandreaming]

Been mulling over a AU that popped up in my head. (A couple, actually but this one's got me good)Basically, Bingge has grown bored (and hollow) after doing his world's Shen Jiu in.

After he went and seen the 'fake Shizun' and the whiny version of himself (that kicked his ass too, HES TOTALLY NOT FEELING LIKE A SORE LOSER RN. He just got lucky, is all..) LBG decides fuck it, I'm back at dimension hopping to see where I land,And where does he end up?

In a world where Shen Jiu never escaped the Qiu household. But Bingge doesn't know that. He never cared about anything relating to his Shizun other than suffering, so when he spies his.. Shizun, out in a bright market, tailing around Qiu Haitang, dressed in COMMON robes, no light in his eyes, looking down at the ground, with his hair tied up in a braid over his shoulder, Bingge obviously wants to know what's up.

He spies his chance to get SJ alone, when Qiu Haitang goes off for a bit on her own, telling SJ to stay put, he strikes. The look on his Shizun's face is far from what he expected. Cautious, fearful, and downtrodden. He's been beat down, he's been broken, he's a pet at this point..

He's also VERY confused. Why is this noble man so interested in a slave like him? He clearly wants something, everyone wants something.Before Bingge gets some good jabs in at him about how miserable he looks, QHT comes back and gives him a weird look, before stringing SJ along again and away they go..

But that's not the end of that.

LBG follows them, and later in the night stalks SJ. He watches his Shizun move stiffly. Even in private, his head is down, and he has this lost expression on his face.In his dreams, LBG gives him everything he's ever wanted, he wants a stick of tanghulu? Its his. That really nice, fancy robe he's always wanted, but it's so pricey and too nice for a slave like him? Its his. It.. feels nice to he pampered, but who's this strange man? And why does he want anything to do with someone as low as SJ?

Turns out Bingge has a helpless Shizun obsession and spies his chance at molding Shizun like he molded him. This Shizun, who isn't even a Shizun (gives him a weird look because. Hes not a Shizun? But he still insists on calling him that?? Starts responding to it because he won't stop calling him Shizun)

Days go on into weeks, months, and Luo Bingge has been hounding SJ incessantly. He knows what's up, man wants him carnally. And he's not humoring it, often telling this idiot lord that he has better things he should be doing, than trying to entice a slave to love him.

Binghe does not give up, of course, and proceeds to prod him for information about what's happened to him. Some, he talks about, little he elaborates on, and other times, SJ just gives him a certain look that only says ‘I don't want to talk about that.’

LBG thought he would enjoy this, watch SJ go around like a solemn husk. Just waiting to die.. He doesn't. He wants to give him everything and more.You may be asking 'What about QJL? YWZ?’ well this ain't ABOUT them. QJL is a bitch and died early. YWZ is probably in a ditch somewhere probably. And is SJ married to QHT? Answer; he is not, because of QJL's death, QHT prefers his company as it was. Just an ear to listen and hands to braid her hair. She doesn't know about the abuse.

LBG either kills all the Qiu men, and burns the manor to the ground, or he buys SJ off of QHT.. Probably threatening to kill her over a slave. SJ learns about this, when LBG comes to claim him while he's cleaning, and he just thinks LBG is fucking with him.His face when he learns LBG *bought* him out, to make him his own, is priceless to LBG.

Pro? He gets to leave!

Con? He has to leave with the desperate man that's been trying to court him for GOD, YEARS? Slowly earning his trust, opening him up like the tender flower that he was to LBG… Okay. Maybe it won't be so bad.

LBG takes him away to a little hovel out in the woods, just outside the village. It's rather lavish for such a humble little home, with a garden, a pond, HOT SPRINGS, everything you'd imagine could self sustain, LBG has planned and plotted out over the years of getting to know SJ. Like /actually/ know him.

Even when they share the same bed, SJ doesn't really say much. What is there *to* say?

Every early morning, he gets up, makes breakfast, LBG has told him numerous times he doesn't have to do those things anymore. So.. what is he supposed to do? It's what he's used to. If everything is done already, why is SJ here?

LBG, seeing how lost SJ is without /something/ to do. So he starts suggesting things that his Shizun would do. Paint, play the guqin, so on so fourth. It's far too late for SJ to become a Cultivator, and he shows no interest in it either. So, LBG has a little homebody Shizun..

Eventually, SJ makes SO many paintings, LBG brings up that maybe he should sell them in town, make some money for himself. SJ is reluctant at first, obviously. He doesn't want to run a stand by himself.. He doesn't want to be around people. They would recognize him!So, ultimately, SJ decides against it and hoards his paintings.

Now, being who I am, ofc there's gonna be Mpreg. LBG knocks up SJ knowingly, and ‘comes to the conclusion’ that SJ is pregnant. He's absolutely not happy about this, but whatever. If his new master wants that of him, fine… It's better than anything else he could ask for. (His usual, sexually charged pestering. UGH)

Now, later in the plot, SJ is pregnant LBG decides to return home, just to see how everything is going. (Not good, all his wives and SJ’s ghost are mad at him.)Could kick this up a notch, and instead of just one SJ, LBG has MANY that he portal hops to meet up with and be absolutely filthy with (Dirty Shizun Fucker.) or to be pampered by that hand that should have, could have, but didn't in his world.

And when this dumbass finally returns to his wifey SJ, not only did he have the baby, BUT he started selling his paintings, and is LIVID with LBG. Holding the baby in one arm, hair tied up in a ponytail as he GIVES it to LBG.

When he finds out he intentionally left SJ a bunch of money, he's pissed and storms off with a huff. LBG treated him a little too good, because he's now the fiery SJ he knows and loves! LBG is a total kiss ass, and despite sleeping outside because of it, he still loves his Not-Shizun, Shizun.

He won't admit he has a Shizun Problem, and he's happy keeping it that way.

This /could/ go into SJ being PL of QJ, CQMS, but I'm unsure how to weave it together since SJ is already an adult and I'm unsure if adults can start Cultivation THAT late, but I like the sound of SJ just getting to live a normal mortal life..

Which brings LBG to panik™. SJ is getting older, his hair is greying. They've been together for YEARS at this point.. Their baby, Bingwen, is not so baby anymore. So.. LBG does the only obvious thing he can do, and turns SJ immortal, maybe even into a demon, or his Empress. Since, well, SJ at eternal place at his side? Sign LBG up!

But, SJ doesn't want that. Sounds nice, but.. He doesn't want to go on forever like this. If LBG had a heart, he would let SJ go. Spoiler; HE DOESN'T. SJ is mad at him yet again, and shuts him out for a while. He can, and can't believe LBG. He said he cared! He trusted him! It was bad enough they papapa’d, bad enough that he ended up pregnant with that idiots child…

But still. He loves him. He gives SJ everything. There are plenty of times LBG overstepped the boundaries he asked SJ to set himself, to make him feel a little more real. Like he /belonged./ Oh LBG, you're just a mess aren't you…

So, we are left with Immortal Shen Jiu. Does he stay in the humble little home, to live with his son and his idiot master-husband coming by on occasion to bother him,Or does he become LBG’s Empress in this world?

Either way, he ends up coming to terms with being a immortal, and that he's stuck with a deranged idiot for the rest of eternity. (Affectionate)

[ravennaortiz]

The guys reaction to accidently hurting you- Mayans version

Angel- He feels awful. He had been playing around fighting EZ with the pool cues in the clubhouse. Bishop had already warned them to chill but they had disregarded him. Now he was holding you close as you cried and blood ran down your face. Shhing you as you yelled at him for being an idiot and if your nose was broken you would break his. Your threats of shocking the stick up his ass and making him your puppet quieted as he tried to kiss you into silence.

Bishop- "Its a small burn, it barely hurts" you tell him again. He hears you but is too lost in his mind. "Its doesn't matter. I should have been more careful. These things kill" continued Bishop as he frantically tossed all his cigarettes and cigars into the trash. "You hate the smell anyway. I should have stopped years ago" he continued before looking around the clubhouse at all the others smoking as if he hadn't almost caught his wife on fire. "Effective immediately no smoking!" he bellowed as he grabbed the fire extinguisher as you shook your head.

Bottles- He had been trying to impress you. You made him nervous and he had no idea how to tell you he liked you. Which is what led him to trying to show you a magic trick. Unfortunately he had messed up when he saw you smiling at him and he had squirted tequila and lemon directly into your eyes instead of into the cup you were holding. He was barely keeping himself from crying as he watched EZ help you flush your eyes out.

Coco- He had just been trying out a different technique in the bed room. He hadn't meant to make you guys into a sex sent me to the er episode. The nurse and doctor certainly had not won him any points when they said going forward more tongue and less teeth would be best. Glancing over at you on the couch with an ice pack on your lady parts he tried again to apologize. "My bad-" . "Tell it to my clit you almost ripped off" you snapped cutting him off . "Alright then" replied Coco with a shrug before moving to the floor between your legs. "Yo my apologies" he said staring diirectly at your crotch.

Creeper- He's worried you will leave him. The whole time its all he can think about as Angel drives you guys to the hospital. He can't even plead his case, he knows he's guilty. Accident or not. He should not be forgiven for harming his woman. "Guess its safe to say I wont be running away from you anytime soon" you manage to croak out as you try not to look at your swollen and wrongly turned ankle. Creeper frowns as Angel hits a bump in the road jolting you. "Careful" he snaps. Angel scoffs and mutters something only you hear making you laugh. "What was that?" demands Creeper. "I said next time you want to be kinky maybe play were wolf coming through the bedroom window and not the damn woods" replied Angel as he sent Creeper a grin.

EZ- He busies himself. Trying to keep his mind off how your broken hand is his fault. You had been on him about how the trailer needed repairs. The door swung shut to fast and the steps were getting rusty. He had agreed and said he would fix them.... he just never seemed to have time between the club, you and his pops. Now though as you sat in an inflatable pool drinking a margarita with your hand in a bright pink cast he had time.

Gilly- He feels so much shame. You always called him your big teddy bear. Told him how much you loved being wrapped in his arms especially when he gave you surprise hugs from the back. He didn't realize you had a knife. The morning had started off like any other in your household. Your daughter was set at the table eating her cereal as you worked on cutting open a pack of bacon. One minute you were struggling to cut through the packaging as your daughter talked about going to the park and the next you were watching blood pour onto your kitchen floor as your daughter screamed and Gilly yelled.

Guero-He is furious with himself. Honestly if he could he would sprout a second him just to beat the shit out of it. He's snappy as everyone tells him it was an accident and to not be so hard on himself. Even your words can't soothe him. He vows never to play around with you again as the little old lady at the grocery store glares at him. "Its not my first black eye" you state as you toss candy bars into the cart. "Barely felt it, like being punched by a sad cloud" you continue as you watch him roll his eyes. "Yeah that why you were crying so much?" he dead panned making you laugh.

Manny-He's silent and methodical as he checks you over. His eyes and brow furrowed in worry as he notes the flinch as his fingers trace over a sore spot on your back. You whine and his heart feels like you stabbed him. He's about to apologize again but you cut him off with a joke. "You know when I said I wanted you to break my back I meant it as a metaphor for sex not for you to literally break my back". Manny closes his eyes as he chuckles quietly. "Guess I gotta be a Doctor Manny now huh mami?". "Only if you give me an injection" you reply tossing him a glance over your shoulder.

Return to Headcanon Masterlist Page

[ofswordsandpens]

I've enjoyed episode 3 the most so far, but I think the show is still struggling to find a good balance between taking itself seriously and the absurdist humor that RR writes with. My main takeaways:

The Fight Scenes (or Lack Thereof?)

It seems very peculiar to me that the show is just speed running through its battle scenes. Again, it feels very much like the product of Disney trying to sanitize anything that's too extreme?

The trio fleeing from the kindly ones in the book ended with Percy taking control of the bus and then crashing it. It explodes. They lose all of their stuff (money, food). In the show, they simply bail out the back window. No true panic. No tension. Just, okay :) we're leaving now :)

The Medusa Scene. I'll speak more to this later, but in terms of the fight we get to see... well we get to see nothing. Apparently this fight required us to view it through the lens of the invisibility cap (ie. not at all),

I understand this show is intended for a younger audience, but the books are as well. Even the movies, which are pg, came up with better ways to show things without necessarily showing things. As a result, it feels like anything that might induce the slightest bit of tension or fear are sanded down and its honestly doing such a disservice to the books and the audience.

Medusa

I actually really liked this portrayal of Medusa. The 1950s housewife vibe landed well for me. And I loved the actress's voice -- very soft and soothing but always sounding as if she were just about to cry.

Also, I really liked her dialogue. Her digs at Athena and Poseidon were perfectly tragic.

That being said, I really prefer the trio's arrival to the emporium in the book. In the books, they've been wandering the woods and are lost and exhausted and hungry because of the battle/bus crash where they've lost all of their stuff. It almost feels like the emporium popping up "out of nowhere" was more of it finding them.

Meanwhile in the show, Grover finds it through scent on a satyr path and they immediately know its Medusa, which imo takes out so much of the fun of it all??? In the books, they dont know. Grover's just like, freaking the ever living fuck out, and clearly Percy and Annabeth have let him take sole custody of the shared brain cell, cause they're more concerned about getting some food than anything else

Just... RIP dumbass shenanigans

And honestly, I'm not really sure what necessitated the change here in the show (of them not being tricked). It would have been one thing if they were going to change Medusa entirely to not wanting to harm them at all, but imo, I think its arguable/evident that show Medusa was looking for an excuse to petrify Annabeth and Grover (at minimum) regardless of anything.

Honestly, I would have had the show loosely play it out as: book arrival (they dont know its Medusa), keep the dumbass energy and banter, the trio figures out it Medusa while they're eating, Medusa is the more sympathetic version we see in the show, regardless it still ends with the battle.

Also, I do mourn the book battle. The panic and absurdity is just handled better imo. Annabeth shoving them off the bench, Grover flopping all over the place with the shoes but actively getting a good few hits in, Percy having to use to the reflection to behead her... the #TeamWork was emphasized a little more there to me.

Characterization

I think the show is absolutely nailing certain parts of the characters.

They've gotten Percy's anger and his derision towards the gods down. But, I think they're actually underscoring some of his, idk, sincerity? His kindness? It was the line "she met a pinecone's fate" that just rang off to me. While undoubtedly funny, it's just such a stark difference from his reaction to Thalia's story in the books, where he was unsettled by her fate and felt a sincere sympathy for her. The line in the show I assume is meant to criticize the gods, but still, it feels like it comes at the expense of the sensitivity that he has.

They've gotten Annabeth's bluntness, intelligence, pride, and superiority down cold. No question about it. But I feel like they just need to let her be more of a 12yo kid?

Like. In canon she and Percy banter and argue over the silliest of things. She plays hacky sack with Grover and Percy. She blushes and hyperventilates when Luke interacts with her. Episode 3 is like the first time we've gotten to see her do something remotely childish (buying all that candy) and I'm just dying for more of that!! She's not the "mom" of the group and she has her canon dumbass moments. I'm hoping more of this is captured moving forward. They've gotten a good start on the banter, but let Annabeth be more silly! Cause she is!

(Absolutely none of my personal qualms about the characterization are Walker or Leah's fault. They've done amazing. It's the writing/directing I'm side-eyeing).

OH! And I'm sorry but Percy being like "Annabeth we're going to bury medusa with your hat on" would have never ever flown with Annabeth. In no world.

But Grover eating them up at the end? Iconic. Good for him.

[iolypse]

chapter one of the kokichi time loop fic is sooo close to being done I'm screaming. we're at 10k~ words.

do I have any idea how long this fic is going to be? vaguely; with how it's going so far... probably several hundred thousand words. I can't lie. do I have any idea when I'll finish it? no, not one! do I have any idea when I'll start posting it? I try not to post anything unless I've already finished it, since that way, it's guaranteed that you guys will get a complete story—HOWEVER, I may try posting this one in arcs? so like... I'd finish writing one "arc," then start slowly posting the chapters within that arc while I worked on the next one. maybe. big maybe. we'll see!

do I have a smoothed out and edited version of a previous snippet I posted? yes, I do! here you go!

He turns his feet so it reaches his chest first.

Its touch is deceptively soft—almost gentle, as though the brush of fabric against his skin, or perhaps a body climbing into bed beside him, if it weren't so cold. It's just enough for him to feel its weight settle atop his sternum, and for a fraction of a second, his brain doesn't register it as pain. It is only pressure, merely a hand weighing too firm against his ribs as if to test their flexibility.

His nociceptors hesitate. The message doesn't arrive in time. There is no alarm, not yet.

Then it sinks its teeth in and bites.

At first, his tries to hold against the force—his ribcage bows, bones groaning under the mass, muscles flexing in a last ditch effort to rearrange his molecules and turn him into steel through sheer willpower alone to resist—

And his ribs snap.

They do not fracture one by one, neatly and orderly, pigs in a row awaiting their organized slaughter. It could never be that easy; it could never be such a clean, clinical break; there is no such mercy, not for him. Instead, they shatter. A violent, catastrophic splintering—jagged bone driven inward, spearing his lungs, his heart, his everything; a sudden, excruciating collapse as his bones crack like brittle wood. The edges of his own skeleton become weapons turned against him, shredding veins and arteries and tissue. It is instant, and it is endless.

It is a cataclysmic cathedral of agony, sacred and obscene, his torso transformed into a shrine of mutilation. It is a crushing, swallowing agony that turns his body into a ruinous cage of fractured bones and hemorrhaging flesh.

He wants to laugh. He wants to make a joke—something about those ASMR videos, the ones where a car satisfyingly rolls over plastic toys and chip bags, snap, crackle, pop—but the words burn in his throat, lost in the thick, metallic flood of blood surging up his trachea. He chokes on it, drowning in his own attempt at levity. It hurts.

The pressure does not cease.

His stomach folds like paper, his organs popping like bubble wrap, innards bursting under its bearing. His spine buckles. He hears it, that wet, awful twist, and then his nerves vanish. With it, his legs go, as do his arms; he can't feel them anymore. There's a scream before they are snuffed out as if the flame lighting the wick of a candle has been pinched, and they're gone as quickly as yanking a plug out of its socket in a single fluid movement.

He can't breathe. He is being eaten alive.

Swallow.

Is this what Miu felt like?

His thoughts fragment. The edges of his vision smear and fray, bordered by pink, white, black. Red-hot agony lights up every cell, make it stop make it stop make it stop—

Stomach acid, digestion—

His heartbeat slams inside his ears, frantic, erratic—

Until suddenly, it isn't.

Until suddenly it's sputtering, struggling against the pressure that demands it stop all at once. He is yielding, he becoming something less than human, something flat, small, insignificant—

His head.

It has been seconds at most. The cold maw reaches his skull shortly thereafter.

A crack. A cave-in. Something splinters. Something gives.

There is no more pain. His nociceptors heed the calls of his smothered brain no longer.

Kokichi Ouma, Ultimate Supreme Leader, is—

—slouched against the inside of a locker, and he only knows it's a locker because his forehead is smushed against the metal slits of its door.

[its-not-a-pen]

—Terracotta—

Ok so I visited xi'an during my trip back to china (3 months ago?), and this idea popped into my head during the 9h train ride back to shangdong. I am of course 100% projecting my own love of the terracotta army onto Qin Shi Huang, in reality he did not care for this pit of mud statues depicting lowly commoners. In fact, no one ever bothered to write about it and they were lost to history until 1974 when some farmers digging a well stumbled upon them. But it's exactly the reason I'm so fascinated by them. QSH's tomb has not been excavated, and although I have a running joke about cracking it open--mercury vapors be damned--none of the riches inside will ever enchant me as much as the chance to see the face of a person who lived during this time.

Notes under the cut:

#1

the title Qin Shi Huangdi means "First Emperor of Qin" and was given to QSH by later historians. He actually called himself the Shi Huangdi, "First Emperor", and that is the title I've gone with here.

in English the other kingdoms are translated as "states" (i guess to avoid confusion?) but in chinese they are very much kingdoms.

The terracotta warriors used thousands of craftsmen, many of whom were slaves from conquered kingdoms. From a storytelling perspective I thought it would be more streamlined if there were two main artisans who reported directly to QSH.

QSH's clothes are based on the overly complicated courtly regalia. which has 12 symbols that only the emperor is allowed to wear

Notice how this hat is ROUND at the front??? Well I CERTAINLY DIDN'T. HAD TO REDRAW IT!!!!!

the stripped shirt is based on this Chu woman figurine. Clothes were fairly unisex during this time and I thought it was a nice fit.

#2

Paperwork: writing was done on books made of bamboo slips. Anecdotally, QSH had an impressive work ethic and would read 100 bills every night.

Bronze Goose lamp: ok this is actually a Han dynasty lamp pls forgive me. I saw this bad boy at the xi'an history museum and it's bewitched me body and soul. The goose neck is hollow and connects to a reservoir of water in the belly, which minimizes smoke and cools the lamp.

QSH is remembered as a brutal tyrant and brilliant statesman, but I wanted to present a more human version of him here. Bored, tired and drowning in work he refuses to delegate. His new empire is balanced as precariously as everything else on his desk.

#3

The attendants standing behind him are holding little wood tablets called hu for taking notes. Their brushes are tucked into their hats/hair, inspired by Han dynasty custom. (You'll see me using Han stuff a lot. Their cultures were very similar to Qin, since it was only a few hundred years apart).

So I had a slight breakdown trying to find the correct hats for the eunuchs, and ended up redrawing everything the night I was due to publish. Closest thing I could come up with was a reference to a round-style Han Dynasty hat which evolved into this square Jin hat. Yes, this is a cry for help .

#4

the wheeled platform is 100% made up, I tried to come up with a plausible way of getting a bunch of figurines into the palace.

#5 & #6

Painted terracotta soldier

How were the terracotta warriors made

The General: Fun fact, I got to see this guy in person!

#7

The Epic Wide Shot was inspired by some Tang Dynasty terracotta figures I saw at the xi'an museum!

#8

THIS KNEELING ARCHER. ARGGGGG. He use to be my favourite guy. I even went into the pit and drew him IN PERSON. the archers inexplicably have their hair buns on the OPPOSITE SIDE OF THE HEAD. So because of him, I DREW ALL THE HAIR BUNS WRONG!!!! REDRAW!!!! PAIN AND SUFFERING!!!!

#10

Qin was famous for it's very long, thin swords. They were more useful as status symbols than actual weapons, as QSH knows from personal experience…

#11

QSH'S Tomb hasn't been excavated yet, but high levels of mercury have been detected in the soil, making the historical accounts of quite plausible.

[thesweetnessofspring]

A little different version of "so after" and loosely inspired by Far From the Madding Crowd. Rated M and bordering E because..."so after."

Peeta's scarred hands work in the fireplace, arranging everything for the fire. First he situates the New Year log, taken from an oak tree in the woods, in the grate and places the kindling of pine needles on top. Peeta guides he singular flame of the match onto the kindling and it catches. I lean against the armrest of the couch, watching his lips pucker as he blows on the fire. Some of my own fire, left to nothing but embers, burns low and pleasant at the thought of the way those lips press to my forehead and cheek after a nightmare. And leads me to think of the night on a beach. As the fire in the hearth builds, the orange glow shadows his face, his hair appears golden with the light.

The fire reaches a steady crackle, lighting the room with its promise of a new year bringing better days. It's been just over a year since Prim's death and those days I was lost in my grief. And yet, ever so slowly, good has come. I make it a game, thinking of the good things that have happened this past year. Most are from Peeta, who first coaxed me from my empty days into the spring air and reminded me how flowers still grow.

I wait for Peeta to join me, so that I can burrow myself in his arms, my ear over his heartbeat. Yet he stays where he is, sitting back on his heels and staring at the fire. If his hands weren't flat against his thighs, I might suspect he was having a flashback, he's so far away from me.

"Peeta?" I ask. "Come sit by me."

He still stares at the fire, not moving toward me. "Does it bother you what people are saying about us?"

"What's that?" I ask. I hadn't noticed much. But then again, I don't bother with most people these days. Peeta doesn't, either, though he will go on walks and pass by the market that's popped up during the rebuild. He hears more than I do.

"That we're living as husband and wife," Peeta says. He turns his head to peek over at me, half of his face shadowed and cautious.

"I suppose we are. In our way."

We've shared our meals, kept each other company, and held hands since he came back. When I couldn't take sleeping alone anymore, I went into Peeta's bed. I'm surprised by how comfortable it feels to admit that what we have is almost like a marriage. Not since before my father's death have I ever thought I might be someone's wife.

"They don't mean it like that," Peeta says. "They're saying I'm taking your milk without paying for the goat."

It was an old saying, talked about with judging looks. The man for taking advantage of a woman without ensuring her proper legal protection. The woman for running the risk of having a fatherless child. When he found out Peeta and I were sharing a bed again, Dr. Aurelius encouraged me to take birth control and I could think of no reason to object. So even if Peeta were taking my milk as they say, it couldn't hurt me. Not in the way I worried about so much before.

I still flush at the thought of it, of the two of us naked and touching each other, of his lips on mine and his hands on my body. I clench my legs together at the thought.

"That's stupid," I say.

Peeta's cheeks turn dark in the firelight and he avoids looking at me. "I'm only saying what everyone else says. And of course, the idea of us—like that—it's stupid."

"I said they're stupid," I say. "Not us—"

I fluster and can't say the words. Only there's the thought again, the thought of olive skin to pink skin, scar to scar, and him inside of me, all over me. Tasting him again. Would he taste the same? Or sweeter this time, after so much bitterness?

"Not us what, Katniss?" Peeta asks quietly.

Our eyes connect and there's something burning brightly inside of me. Life. A warmth that I'd thought had long been extinguished, and yet persists despite all we've lost. What he means to me, the safety and goodness he brings to me, had never gone away. It only waited for this moment, when everything was right.

I slide from the couch and crawl to him on the floor. When I sit by his side, my back to the fire, it's just how it was at the beach. Only he hasn't even touched me yet and I'm craving him. So I lean in and kiss him, soft at first, as we brush off the last dust of distance between us, and then the kiss grows deeper and slows so we can savor it. Although I've kissed Peeta a thousand times before, and a couple made me want more, this feels like the first time. It's certainly the first time we've been able to kiss like this all on our own with no one watching. I want more, and he must, too, because our kisses build to crushing, breathless events.

At some point, I swing one leg around him so I'm on his lap and his hands are at the small of my back and I want, I need his skin on mine. So I break our kiss to pull my shirt over my head and then reach for his, too.

Once we're both topless, I cup his cheek to draw him into another kiss. His bare hand rests on my waist, then travels up to my breast. I tremble from the intensity of the feel of him there, of the way I need him more. My body seeks it, pressing down on his lap and finding him seeking me, too.

It's not enough. As much as I know we're on the right track, it's as if I'm smelling the food instead of tasting it. The motions only make me want more.

Peeta pulls back for a moment only to flip us so that I'm on my back parallel to the fire and he hovers over me, elbows holding him up. His curls cascade around his face as he peers down at me.

"Don't stop," I tell him, missing the contact more than anything.

The flames catch his eyes and he kisses all over my face and down my neck, my chest, my arms, my stomach and taking extra time where the scars run deepest, his tongue running along them. At my belly button he looks up at me and I hurriedly lift my hips up to slide off my pants. He moves back up to kiss me on the mouth, but I'm more aware of his hands gently tracing my underwear. I open my legs to his touch.

"This okay?" he asks, uncertainty in his words.

"Yes," I assure him and he moves more confidently in rubbing me over my underwear. It doesn't have that same spark as when I was on top of him, but I do like him touching me there. Then there's a place he finds and I jerk with a sharp pleasure and give a little cry.

"Right there?" he asks, going over the spot again.

"Yes!"

He swipes up and down and I whimper, biting my lip. Still, I need more. I put my hand on top of his and guide him beneath my underwear. When his fingers find my bare flesh over that spot, my whole body blazes with heat and I move my hips against his hand. Peeta's free hand cups himself, squeezing over his pants, his body shaking now. He's holding back, keeping himself hidden from me, as if we were still those kids in the arena. Me squeamish at the idea of seeing him completely naked, and him waiting for me to let him in, even though our lives depended on it. But we're not as we were before in the arena. The most obvious sign now is that I want to feel him, too.

I grab hold of him over his pants and for a second he falters where he rubs me, giving a short curse. That reaction makes me more responsive in turn. I lift my head up to kiss him and then make for his pants, first unbuttoning and then tugging them and his underwear down.

While Peeta untangles his bottoms from his prosthetic leg, I peel my damp underwear off and then we're naked together, both of us pausing to look from the other's bodies to making eye contact and swiftly looking away again. It hits us both what we're about to do, what we could do.

"We don't have to go further unless you're sure," Peeta says.

He's right. I know we could keep going the way that we have, with our easy routine and companionship for the rest of our lives. Neither of us will abandon the other. If we were going to, it would have happened long ago. Yet, even if we don't do this tonight, it's obvious we will in time. I don't think there is a single thing in the past that could have changed us coming to this point eventually.

"Come here," I say.

Peeta doesn't need telling twice. We take our time exploring each other, asking questions, trying things out. I almost feel foolish how little I know about my own body while Peeta gives more to guide me on, though he says he doesn't mind experimenting. Some things feel wonderful, others are just nice because Peeta is touching me. He takes it all in until he has me soaring from his caresses.

After Peeta asks if it's what I want and I confirm it, finally, we're joined. I'm breathless for a moment and there is a tightness that's uncomfortable at first, until I adjust to him. Peeta hovers above me, staying still, watching my face. When I make eye contact with him and nod, he begins to move. Our communication then is through our sounds of delight, quick kisses, the tilt of our bodies, quick affirmations, a cry of the other's name.

The fire dances beside us when Peeta brings a blanket over our naked skin and I'm in a haze of blissful sleep, making a pillow of his chest.

"Katniss?" he asks.

I hum to let him know I'm listening, so warm and happy the next words, said as soft and low as a baby bird's downy feather, take me by surprise.

"You love me. Real or not real?"

The question I've asked since after the berries myself, always in a muddle of confusion, comes to light like a spring morning. There is now, and for always, only one answer to give.

"Real."

[sharp-silver4795]

Creepypasta Mansion HC’s

Ok, I figured yall need to know my “au”(?) for creepypasta if we gonna keep doin this.

Once again, I’m gonna put headers and color codes. There are no warnings necessary.

Color code is by the amount of work each section has to do.

None >> Least >> Decent >> too much

Housing [General]

So I’m a bit conflicted on how I think about “mansion”- either the “traditional” idea of the mansion, or (my more main version) ⬇️

I can see it as “the mansion” is an area of land, and not an actual building. Each of the creeps are grouped in different ways to live together in groups of 3-4. I tend to lean towards this one. So, for these HCs I’m gonna stick to this version.

“The Mansion” is divided into four main sections:

True Mansion: the actual mansion. Only the Slenderman/Operator resides here.

Inner Mansion: the smallest occupied area of the mansion. That being said, it has no divisions. This is reserved for most of the Proxies.

Mid-Mansion: The largest collective area of the mansion. It has four divisions. It is the most occupied.

Outer-Mansion: The largest complete area of the mansion. Has no divisions. Has the least amount of occupants.

The rest of my head cannons are going to be sorted by these areas of the mansion. The true mansion will not be included for obvious reasons.

Inner Mansion

Occupants: Rogue Proxy, Zechariah, Wilson the Basher, Kate the Chaser, Masky, Hoodie, Kat Hunter, Neon Spike (OC)

One cabin with two levels. The girls are on the lower level, the boys are on the second.

They have the least amount of work due to no one actually being able to get that far into the mansion grounds.

Mid-Mansion: Game Freaks

The far western section of the mid manor.

Occupants: BEN Drowned, Lost Silver and Herobrine

It has one cabin with only one level, but they’re share rooms.

Mid-Mansion: Circus Freaks

Eastern most area. It actually has two cabins due to disputes between certain individuals

Despite being called “Circus Freaks” not all of them are based on a circus.

Southeast Occupants: Laughing Jack and Candy Pop

Northeast Occupants: Laughing Jill and Jason the Toymaker

Out of all the sections of the mid mansion, they have the least amount of work.

Mid-Mansion: Outsiders/Defensive Rebellion

So, backstory: there are two parts of the mansion called the “Rebellion”. This is because they don’t exactly “fit” with other creeps. They’re wildcards, if you will.

Called “Defensive Rebellion” because they are at the second North and South Levels.

There are two cabins, one in the north and one in the south.

Northern Occupants: Jane the Killer, Nina the Killer, Nathan the Nobody

Southern Occupants: Puppeteer, Clockwork, X-Virus

I will probably make a separate HC post for the proxies to explain why X-Virus is here.

The North does nothing. The south has a good bit on their hands though.

Outer-Mansion/Offensive Rebellion

Alright. The largest area of the mansion without divisions. That being said, they only have one cabin.

Occupants: Ticci Toby, Jeff the Killer, Eyeless Jack, and Liu Woods.

They have the most work due to this being the first area of the mansion.

Rather than being stationed, they kind of divide the land into two unequal zones and then those are split evenly between the two.

Jeff and Toby cover about 70% of the whole area of the OR. Jeff takes the West side and Toby takes the East side of it.

EJ and Liu cover the rest. Liu takes the East side and EJ takes the West side.

Other Stuff

To the south of the mansion grounds there is a highway that is right next to the city.

That being said, the south of the mansion is usually how people get in.

The mansion isn’t really big into fighting Zalgo and shit, they just protect the grounds for the most part.

Well, I hope ya liked this one. Sorry that my posts are kinda long, I just try to be thorough-

[honkhonk-ducky]

I typed this out at the same time as my attempts at putting things into the computer, so if someone's already done this already I'm sorry :(

I'll edit as I find more and/or see more mentioned on the internet or from friends.

SPOILERS under cut.

Hectoring - A funny little song accompanied by a preacher narrating the tale of when someone in church confessed to meeting Bill Cipher.

Bill Cipher/Cipher - Takes you to the Wikipedia page on triangles.

Dipper - A note from Bill pops up telling Dipper there's secret messages in TBOB that one can only be seen if he stares at the sun for 13 hours.

Mabel - Stickers start popping up around the workspace. If you enter Mabel enough times the computer says 'Lab now fully Mabelized".

Stanley/Stan - Takes you to ebay where you can purchase a set of brass knuckles! If you enter it repeatedly it takes you to even more ebay pages with Stan-themed items, and eventually to the "Wheel! Of! Shame!" where Bill offers some commentary on Stan.

Stanford/Sixer/Ford - A case report pops up on Ford talking about his extra finger.

Soos - A long letter from Soos pops up that is a little bit of him warning us not to read TBOB, and a lot of him rambling about himself.

McGucket/Fiddleford/Old Man McGucket - Takes you to the Cotton Eye Joe music video.

Wendy - A note from Wendy pops up (don't look in the bottom right corner).

Pacifica - A note from Pacifica pops up with her version of a warning not to read TBOB.

Robbie - Brings up excerpts from a chat between Robbie and Thompson talking about searching for Bill in the woods. There's also an image from a video of them running away from him.

Gideon - An audio recording of Gideon humming a song comes on (I don't know what song), before he whispers "I'll love you forever Mabel".

Waddles - Takes you to the website pigplacementnetwork.org

Tad Strange - A video of someone cutting bread plays on the computer, with romantic saxophone music in the background.

Mystery Shack - Brings you to a Google search on Confusion Hill, California.

Axolotl - Text shoes up on the computer saying "You Ask Alotl Questions".

Blendin Blandin - Text shows up on the computer saying "Time Agent Lost and Presumed Incompetent".

Theraprism - A card pops up saying "IN CASE OF (symbols) DO NOT USE ELEVATORS". There's a picture like a road sign of a man running down the stairs from Cthulu(?)

Globnar - Takes you to a 90s commercial titled "CROSSFIRE".

Euclydia - Text shows up on the computer saying "Dimension Not Found".

Weirdmageddon - An excerpt from the Gravity Falls Gossiper shows up, presumably displaying an article from directly after Weirdmageddon.

Gravity Falls - Text shows up on the computer saying "Never heard of it".

Toby Determined - Brings you to a Google search on restraining orders.

Bill - Takes you to a Sesame Street video titled "Jazzy Triangle Meets A Square Square"

Journal 1 - Text shows up on the computer saying "The Journal of Fun"

Journal 2 - Text shows up on the computer saying "The Journal for You"

Journal 3 - Text shows up on the computer saying "The Journal for Me"

Sevral Times - Text shows up on the computer saying "Sevral Times - Luv u Girl/Dawg/Fool/Beef"

Baby/Baby Bill - An ultrasound image if baby Bill shows up with text underneath saying "CONGRATS, GUESS WHAT'S GROWING INSIDE YOU RIGHT NOW! SEE YOU IN 9 MONTHS PAPA!"

Deer Teeth - Text shows up on the screen saying "FOR YOU, KID!"

Glass Shard Beach - A picture from "The Wildwoods by the Sea, New Jersey" shows up. I think it's from an amusement park??

Gun - Text shows up on the computer saying "Oh yes oh yes oh yes they both" (the Tik Tok trend???????)

Portal - Text shows up on the computer saying "Portal.exe has been deleted. I bet you could build one."

Pines - Text shows up on the computer saying "A Good Family Tree."

Trigonometry/Pythagorus/Math/Shapes - A note from Bill shows up talking about his experience with Plato and Pythagorus in Ancient Greece.

T.J. Eckleburg - Text shows up on the computer saying "Never mention that name again".

Triangle - Text shows up on screen, alternating from ")" to "Tri Harder".

Universe - Text shows up on the computer saying "Hologram"

Book of Bill - Text shows up on the computer saying "Hide it Under Shirt During Pledge of Allegiance".

Alex Hirsch - Takes you to a Google search on flannel.

Blind Eye - Takes you to one of those eye exam posters with all the letters. There's a colour code at the bottom, but if you click on the poster it gets progressively blurier and I don't know if I can revert it.

Weird - A video of someone (It might be Weird Al but I'm not sure???) shows up on the computer. The guy was apparently trapped inside the computer by Bill.

Mystery - A question mark shows up on the computer.

Life - Text shows up on the computer saying "Life: 72% Complete. Now Loading: Death"

Death - Text shows up on the computer saying "Life's Goth Cousin".

Blanchin' - Takes you to a Youtube video explaining how to blanch vegetables.

Dippy Fresh - Takes you to a Reddit post with a picture of the Burger King Kid's Club.

Morality - A fun game pops up where someone (Bill, probably) asks you to find morality in the natural world.

Disney - Text shows up on the computer saying "Rat.gif Censored for Your Protection".

Giffany - If you enter Giffany repeatedly she eventually downloads a bunch of files onto your actual computer.

Matpat - A video of Matpat shows up saying we're on our own for TBOB. (NO, PLEASE COME BACCCKKKKK)

Vallis Cineris - An animated gif of child Bill being held by two staticky triangles shows up on the computer. Is also accompanied by a robotic voice saying "WHY DID YOU DO IT?"

Mason - A note from Dipper regarding anagrams pops up.

Tyrone - A picture of Paper Jam Dipper pops up with the caption "Here, he's your problem now! Just keep this guy from liquids!"

Sorry - A picture of McGucket and Ford in college pops up. Flipping over the picture gives writing from McGucket on how he became friends with Ford.

Monster - Brings you to a Google search on the book "THERE'S A MONSTER AT THE END OF THIS BOOK"

BABBA - An audio recording of Dipper singing Disco Girl (with an interruption from Grunkle Stan that I think is from Dipper vs. Manliness?) plays.

Creepypasta - Brings up a photo of The"Always Garden" with some commentary from Bill.

Skibidi/Rizz/Gyatt - Text appears on the computer saying "Life privileges revoked. Now releasing poison gas."

Titans Blood - Text shows up on the computer saying "Hoot Hoot. Password please!" (This is a reference to The Owl House)

Pinata - A video of someone beating a pinata of Bill appears on the computer.

Ad Astra Per Aspera - A two page journal entry from Ford pops up detailing what he and Mabel did when they discovered Bill's statue.

Love - A book titled "The Love Triangle" pops up on screen. If you click it, someone begins reading it like an audio book.

God/Help Me/Save Me - A video of a real life axolotl swimming by a statue of Bill plays on the computer.

Even His Lies Are Lies - An excerpt from, presumably, one of Bill's therapy sessions from the Theraprism pops up.

Caryn - Text shows up on the computer saying "I knew you were gonna write that."

Filbrick - Text shows up on the computer saying "I'm not impressed."

Fuck/Shit/Bitch/Milf - A paper with an image of soap appears on screen, captioned with "Not S&P approved. Wash your mouth out with soap!"

Platinum Paz - A story shows up on screen of the night after Northwest Mansion Mystery. It details how Pacifica has a dream where Bill disguises himself as Nathaniel Northwest to try to trick her into making a deal to steal a "snowglobe" (the dimensional rift) from the shack. Pacifica doesn't take the deal and the dream ends.

Divorce - An image of the O' Sadley's logo pops up on screen. (THIS IS WHAT BILL DRANK AFTER FORD STARTED HATING HIM, LMAO)

Lies - A vintage image of people playing The Game of Lies (a spin on the boardgame Game of Life) pops up on screen. Underneath is a several paragraphs long commentary of Bill talking about how lying is amazing and we shouldn't shy away from it.

[whisperintomyheart]

Rayllum Anastasia-inspired Plot Bunny

in which Callum is Anastasia and Rayla is Dimitri.

setting/lore:

takes place in a similar-yet-alternate version take on canon Xadia, the main divergence being that the elves and dragons didn't banish the humans to the west but allowed them to stay on the condition they give up dark magic: any and all the humans who didn't comply were executed. A thousand of years later during the continent-wide ban on dark magic is still in place, and the death sentence for breaking the ban remains strictly in place.

the five human kingdoms were still established in the west. (however, since the continent was never divided, the kingdoms are made up of both elves and humans, with an occasional dragon popping up.)

plot:

the royal Katolian family (King Harrow, Queen Sarai, and the young princes Callum and Ezran) are invited to the Storm Spire by the Dragon King and Queen Avizandum and Zubeia for a celebratory dinner to celebrate the laying of their egg. Amongst the attendees are Katolis' High Mage Viren and the newly appointed Dragonguard (including Rayla's parents Lain and Tiadrin)

During the ball, the Dragonguard catch Viren trying to steal the egg. Viren quickly reveals himself to be a dark mage, and things promptly go to shit.

Many people are killed in the ensuing battle, including Harrow and Sarai. Lain and Tiadrin find a scared Callum and Ezran and rush them to a secret passageway out of the spire. The two princes manage to escape the Spire, but Lain and Tiadrin are killed by Viren (though they do manage to take him down with them)

Callum and Ezran are forcibly separated on their way back to Katolis (how it happens, idk yet): Ezran makes it back home, but Callum is stranded in Eastern Xadia with amnesia induced from a head injury.

nearly a decade later, and Katolis has slowly but surely been recovering from the tragic loss of most of their royal family. 13-yr-old Ezran has only just become the ruling king (with his aunt Amaya having served as Queen Regent for the past nine years). Hearing rumors that his brother is still alive, he offers a large reward to whoever finds Prince Callum and brings him home.

enter Moonshadow Elf Assassin Runaan and 19-yr-old assassin-in-training Rayla, who have been tasked by the Dragon King and Queen with assassinating King Ezran and his new High Mage after receiving intel that the High Mage, Claudia, has secretly been practicing dark magic. Unfortunately, the royal Katolis castle is heavily protected, leaving infiltration nigh to impossible.

Cue 18-yr-old Callum, now known simply as Cal. Having recently left the orphanage he grew up in, Cal is struggling to come up with the money he needs to travel to Western Xadia, specifically Katolis, where he is convinced he will find answers to his forgotten past.

One day he finds an injured cuddlemonkey (Stella) in the woods and nurses her back to health. In return, Stella steals the money he's been saving up and runs away. Cal immediately gives chase.

Stella leads him all the way to Rayla and Runaan, the latter of whom notices the striking resemblance between Cal and the lost prince of Katolis. He quickly begins to formulate a plan: to pass Cal off as Prince Callum. Surely, he reasons, King Ezran will allow them entry into the castle if they restore his lost brother to him.

Callum doesn't completely believe he is the lost prince, but he is willing to entertain the idea when he finds out Rayla and Runaan have the resources he needs to get to Katolis. Rayla herself is not happy with Runaan's plan, though: while she has no love for the Katolian royal family, she doesn't feel right lying to an innocent (Cal) and getting his hopes up. Nonetheless, as Runaan reminds her, the mission comes first, so she goes along with it, albeit reluctantly.

Cue Rayla, Runaan, Cal, and Stella traveling across the continent together.

Cue also, and much more importantly: Rayla and Cal falling in love ❤️

[book--brackets]

The Wicked + the Divine by Kieron Gillan (2014-2019)

Every ninety years, twelve gods incarnate as humans. They are loved. They are hated. In two years, they are dead. The team behind critical tongue-attractors like Young Avengers and PHONOGRAM reunite to create a world where gods are the ultimate pop stars and pop stars are the ultimate gods. But remember: just because you’re immortal, doesn’t mean you’re going to live forever.

The Checquy Files by Daniel O'Malley (2012-2022)

"The body you are wearing used to be mine." So begins the letter Myfanwy Thomas is holding when she awakes in a London park surrounded by bodies all wearing latex gloves. With no recollection of who she is, Myfanwy must follow the instructions her former self left behind to discover her identity and track down the agents who want to destroy her.

She soon learns that she is a Rook, a high-ranking member of a secret organization called the Chequy that battles the many supernatural forces at work in Britain. She also discovers that she possesses a rare, potentially deadly supernatural ability of her own.

In her quest to uncover which member of the Chequy betrayed her and why, Myfanwy encounters a person with four bodies, an aristocratic woman who can enter her dreams, a secret training facility where children are transformed into deadly fighters, and a conspiracy more vast than she ever could have imagined.

Tea Dragon by K. O'Neill (2017-2021)

From the award-winning author of Princess Princess Ever After comes THE TEA DRAGON SOCIETY, the beloved and charming all-ages book that follows the story of Greta, a blacksmith apprentice, and the people she meets as she becomes entwined in the enchanting world of tea dragons. After discovering a lost tea dragon in the marketplace, Greta learns about the dying art form of tea dragon care-taking from the kind tea shop owners, Hesekiel and Erik. As she befriends them and their shy ward, Minette, Greta sees how the craft enriches their lives--and eventually her own. 

The Dark Is Rising by Susan Cooper (1965-1977)

When the Dark comes rising, six shall turn it back, three from the circle, three from the track; wood, bronze, iron; water, fire, stone; five will return, and one go alone.” 

With these mysterious words, Will Stanton discovers on his 11th birthday that he is no mere boy. He is the Sign-Seeker, last of the immortal Old Ones, destined to battle the powers of evil that trouble the land. His task is monumental: he must find and guard the six great Signs of the Light, which, when joined, will create a force strong enough to match and perhaps overcome that of the Dark. Embarking on this endeavor is dangerous as well as deeply rewarding; Will must work within a continuum of time and space much broader than he ever imagined.

The Bloody Chamber and Other Stories by Angela Carter (1979)

In The Bloody Chamber - which includes the story that is the basis of Neil Jordan's 1984 movie The Company of Wolves - Carter spins subversively dark and sensual versions of familiar fairy tales and legends like "Little Red Riding Hood," "Bluebeard," "Puss in Boots," and "Beauty and the Beast," giving them exhilarating new life in a style steeped in the romantic trappings of the gothic tradition.

Innkeeper Chronicles by Ilona Andrews (2013-2022)

On the outside, Dina Demille is the epitome of normal. She runs a quaint Victorian Bed and Breakfast in a small Texas town, owns a Shih Tzu named Beast, and is a perfect neighbor, whose biggest problem should be what to serve her guests for breakfast. But Dina is...different: Her broom is a deadly weapon; her Inn is magic and thinks for itself. Meant to be a lodging for otherworldly visitors, the only permanent guest is a retired Galactic aristocrat who can’t leave the grounds because she’s responsible for the deaths of millions and someone might shoot her on sight. Under the circumstances, "normal" is a bit of a stretch for Dina.

And now, something with wicked claws and deepwater teeth has begun to hunt at night...Feeling responsible for her neighbors, Dina decides to get involved. Before long, she has to juggle dealing with the annoyingly attractive, ex-military, new neighbor, Sean Evans—an alpha-strain werewolf—and the equally arresting cosmic vampire soldier, Arland, while trying to keep her inn and its guests safe. But the enemy she’s facing is unlike anything she’s ever encountered before. It’s smart, vicious, and lethal, and putting herself between this creature and her neighbors might just cost her everything.

The Sisters Grimm by Michael Buckley (2005-2012)

For Sabrina and Daphne Grimm, life has not been a fairy tale. After the mysterious disappearance of their parents, the sisters are sent to live with their grandmother--a woman they believed was dead! Granny Relda reveals that the girls have two famous ancestors, the Brothers Grimm, whose classic book of fairy tales is actually a collection of case files of magical mischief. Now the girls must take on the family responsibility of being fairy tale detectives.

Lumatere Chronicles by Melina Marchetta (2008-2012)

Finnikin of the Rock and his guardian, Sir Topher, have not been home to their beloved Lumatere for ten years. Not since the dark days when the royal family was murdered and the kingdom put under a terrible curse. But then Finnikin is summoned to meet Evanjalin, a young woman with an incredible claim: the heir to the throne of Lumatere, Prince Balthazar, is alive.

Evanjalin is determined to return home and she is the only one who can lead them to the heir. As they journey together, Finnikin is affected by her arrogance . . . and her hope. He begins to believe he will see his childhood friend, Prince Balthazar, again. And that their cursed people will be able to enter Lumatere and be reunited with those trapped inside. He even believes he will find his imprisoned father.

But Evanjalin is not what she seems. And the truth will test not only Finnikin's faith in her . . . but in himself.

Damar by Robin McKinley (1982-1984)

Harry Crewe is an orphan girl who comes to live in Damar, the desert country shared by the Homelanders and the secretive, magical Hillfolk. Her life is quiet and ordinary-until the night she is kidnapped by Corlath, the Hillfolk King, who takes her deep into the desert. She does not know the Hillfolk language; she does not know why she has been chosen. But Corlath does. Harry is to be trained in the arts of war until she is a match for any of his men. Does she have the courage to accept her true fate?

The Chronicles of the Black Company by Glen Cook (1984-2000)

Some feel the Lady, newly risen from centuries in thrall, stands between humankind and evil. Some feel she is evil itself. The hard-bitten men of the Black Company take their pay and do what they must, burying their doubts with their dead. 

Until the prophesy: The White Rose has been reborn, somewhere, to embody good once more. There must be a way for the Black Company to find her... 

[sleepisapriviligethatidonthave]

I've been composing a list of songs for Optimus and Megatron for a while now and that's what I have so far

Beware some of them are just MegOp angst

I'll update this post every once in a while when I find more songs

I'm just putting this here bc it's easier to see: almost anything made by ABBA fits them both together and individually

If anyone has any other songs feel free to share them so I can add them here