#Hiding because the man in the attic

[oliverkills]

♡♡♡

Intro;

Howdy, I'm Oliver (he/they). An agressive cannibal who has a huge hannigram brainrot and posts about:

•These gay cannibals I love more than anything: HannibalTV (nbc).

•Black Christmas (1974).

•Sleeping (I need some rest, really.)

[literaila]

three things

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: a fun trip to the grocery store (how do you raise children?)

warnings: a bit of anxiety, a bit too much of gojo

last part | next part

*

year one.

"no, satoru." 

how many times have you said that today? 

how many times has satoru pouted--like he's doing right now--and put back whatever he'd plucked off the shelf, grumbling something about how you hated him or you weren't his mom or how he was the one buying everything? 

oh, too many times to count. you stopped after five. 

megumi rolls his eyes with you, already familiar with this routine, looking at everything in the cart again with the same analytical eye he's had since you all walked into the store. you're pretty sure he's counting the total cost.

it might be cute--the way his frown deepens just a little bit after each new item is added--if it didn't worry you completely. 

because it's the first time you've taken the two of them to the store, and the first time you're trying to recall everything their eyes trail over, the things they want but neither of them will say.

you're trying to remember yourself as a kid--if you begged your parents for anything you could possibly want, or if you stood there and stared longingly. but your childhood has always been a dull memory you keep hidden in the attic of your mind. 

so you're not sure what to expect. 

because neither of them has asked for much, since the first night. tsumiki requested a notebook she could draw in, and megumi asked if you could get gojo to stop talking to him. 

the first which you did immediately, even letting gojo get her some expensive pencils to draw with, the second which you... tried. 

it hasn't been easy, the past few days. settling two kids into a dysfunctional house didn't exactly fit into your schedule for the week. 

"why not?" satoru demands, walking right along slide you, pushing the cart because you'd forced him to. "we need dessert." 

"there are seven different types of dessert already in there. i'm hiding at least three of those, by the way." 

"i'll find them," satoru grins mischievously, but waves a hand. "we've got two extra people in the house now. i'm not just shopping for me. do you want them to starve?" 

you roll your eyes, again. then pull on his hair, which he squeaks at. "you're only shopping for you. i've seen your pantries, you know. and i lived with you for three years. we all saw your grocery lists." 

satoru is about to say something, but tsumiki giggles. maybe at the stupid way his face looks. 

the way he's almost smiling, even in denial. how his eyes show from just behind his glasses, his brows moving like a separate entity on his face. 

you haven't really talked to him, the past couple of days. nothing beyond a question about megumi's technique, or where the two of them went to school. 

how long will it take before you finally ask him--

you look over to tsumiki, shaking your head at satoru and smiling back. 

"megumi doesn't like sweets much," she adds to you, easily.

you add it to the mental list of things you know about them.

you look at the little boy, and he nods, looking straight ahead. his shoes catch on the ground every couple of steps like they don't fit right. 

satoru gasps like this is an outrage. because not drinking straight sugar is offensive to him. 

"what?" he asks, stopping all three of you so he can grab megumi by the shoulders. "were you cursed?" he inspects the boy carefully, peering over the glasses on his face.

megumi seems to sink back with each glance of his eyes, his face turning red. 

"cursed to deal with you, maybe," you tell him, pushing him away from megumi. the boy fixes his hair--which had been pushed over his eyes--and glares at satoru.

"he doesn't like sweets?" the man repeats, mouth open, glancing at all three of you like he's not sure that any of you are sane.

"you say that as if you don't eat enough for all four of us." 

"i need the calories," satoru whines, fluttering his eyelashes at you. you ignore him--and the funny way you feel about the gesture.

you look at both of the kids, observing the two of you closely, and give them a look. a look as in, he's crazy. 

megumi swallows. "i like dango." 

"great!" you nudge satoru to keep walking. "we'll get some." 

"that's it?" satoru prods. "what about--" 

you pinch his hip and shake your head, glaring at him when he pouts at you again. 

you step on his heels as you walk through the aisles, still watching the kids with sharp eyes, trying to figure out anything they might want. 

tsumiki murmurs something to megumi every once and a while, but beyond that, they only walk alongside you and satoru, stepping out of the way of any other adults that pass by. 

honestly, you might as well have taken them to the park. they don't even glance at any of the shelves--except when satoru pushes one of them away to grab something. at least at the park, they'd be getting some fresh air. 

after you sigh in--what? frustration? disappointment?--for the fourth time, satoru gives you a look, raising his brows. you shake your head. 

he nudges you with his shoulder but doesn't say anything. whistling while he sneaks more sugar into the cart. 

after the fifteenth minute of this, megumi falls in stride beside you and you look down at him. his eyes evade yours, focusing on the necklace you're wearing instead.

"um, i have to use the restroom," he says to you, soft and embarrassed. 

"okay," you place a hand on his back, gently turning him around, "i think it's just over here," you say, listening as satoru follows along idly. 

"me too," tsumiki says, trailing on your other side. 

the store is almost completely empty, so you tell the two of them that you'll wait right outside the door, and lean against the wall, watching the both of them disappear. 

satoru is already looking at you. 

"what?" you groan, glaring at the doors. 

"what what?" 

you sigh. his voice is annoying. "why are you looking at me?" 

satoru is too close for comfort, his arm brushing against yours--uncomfortably of course because he is the worst--without a care in the world. "what's up?" 

"what do you mean?" 

"why are you acting weird?" 

"i'm not acting weird," you look at him, frowning. 

he's wiping his glasses on his shirt--like he can actually see out of them--and looking at you quizzically. "oh, so you staring at tsumiki and megumi like they're a science experiment isn't weird?" 

you ignore him and his stupid blue eyes. 

"if i was doing that you'd push me down a flight of stairs, but okay..." 

you sigh again, rolling your eyes. and then again. and then you relent because satoru's silence will inevitably break you. "they haven't asked for anything," you say, almost whining to him. "you told them they could pick out whatever they want." 

satoru shrugs. "so they don't want anything." 

"everyone wants something, satoru. especially kids." 

"everyone?" 

"yes. i'd expect you to know better than anyone," he laughs but you frown. "it's a human trait." 

he smirks, leaning down towards you. "what do you want, then?" 

you scoff, flicking his forehead. "i want them to feel comfortable. and i want you to stop bugging megumi." 

"but he makes it so easy," satoru says, pretending to be innocent.

"you're the adult, here," you say, even though you don't really believe it--nor should you. "act like it." 

"all the kid does is scowl," satoru complains. "i'm just trying to make him comfortable." 

"by invading his space?" 

"you stare from far away, i stare from up close." 

"you antagonize." 

satoru grins, crossing his arms, very pleased with himself. he's silent again. 

the past year has almost made you forget that satoru knows you like this. he's always known how to keep you talking, how to read your face and your hesitant glances. 

it's not like time could make him forget. it's not like you've forgotten anything about him. 

"you aren't worried?" you ask, after a second. 

"about the kids?" 

"yes," you say, obviously, "that we're already messing something up." 

he gives you a dubious look. "it's been four days." 

and he's right. you can't expect to understand either one of them after seventy-two hours of merely knowing about their existence. but you don't know how to treat kids like these, because any mistake you make--anything you say--will inevitably come back to haunt you. 

"it's--" you shake your head. satoru doesn't worry about anything, so you don't even know why you're bringing it up. "it's like when you play with someone else's kid and feel like you're breaking some unspoken rule. except this time we're the ones making the rules. there's no one to tell us if we mess up." 

"i think megumi would tell us," satoru answers, almost sarcastically. 

"he's the kid, idiot," you groan. "he doesn't know." 

"rude," satoru is still grinning. "what could you have messed up, at this point? all you've been doing is asking them questions. that's pretty straightforward." 

"maybe it's too much, too fast." 

satoru snorts, shaking his head at you. "grocery shopping?" 

"everything." 

satoru raises a brow at you, watching as you deflate. you feel like each move you make takes a little more air out of you, and who's to say when you'll finally run out? 

how many mistakes do you have to make to finally get it right? 

and you know--and you know that he knows--that it's not just about them, but about you. is this too fast? is this too much?

satoru rests a hand on your head. "you're too in your head about this." 

"well, i have to do it for the both of us." 

he ignores that. "if they need something, they'll ask," the words are soft, genuine. he's completely sure like he always is. "you made it clear that we're just here to help. it's been four days." 

you sigh, nodding reluctantly. 

"we'll figure it out," he says, simply. "you don't need to worry about anything. i mean, i'm here, so..." 

you push his hand away, glaring. "megumi doesn't even talk to you." 

"hey, yes he does." 

"to call you a freak, maybe. or tell you to shut up." 

"don't be jealous of my relationship with megumi. we're bonding." 

you roll your eyes but find a laugh making its way out of you. 

he's always been good at this, too. making everything seem easy. 

when tsumiki comes out of the bathroom door, she smiles at the sight of the two of you still there--both talking animatedly, with similar glares in your eyes. she settles in beside satoru, copying him as she leans against the wall. 

"you think i'm great, don't you tsumiki?" satoru asks her, goading. 

she nods immediately. 

you snort and look away while tsumiki giggles when satoru leans down to smack a kiss on her cheek. 

something inside of you warms, just briefly. 

and then megumi comes out, rubbing his hands together. unlike tsumiki, he glares at satoru and chooses to stand beside you. 

"okay," satoru clasps his hands together. "are you both ready to go?" 

"um," you turn to him. "satoru we haven't--" 

megumi nods immediately, looking a bit brighter at the prospect, and tsumiki furrows her brows, questioning. 

"great! both of you pick out three things that you want and then we'll leave." 

megumi glowers. 

"three things?" you clear your throat. "they need more--" 

"three things," satoru repeats, looking right at megumi while he says it. some words pass non-verbally between the two of them. you might have to tell satoru not to talk to megumi about anything without you. "we'll get everything else we need." 

tsumiki runs alongside megumi and grabs his arm, which he allows, though you watch his eyes roll. 

"go on," satoru shoos them away, smiling all proudly. when they're gone, he turns to you again. "there. now you don't have to worry about picking something they like." 

and he reaches his hand to grab yours, as a simple habit. 

satoru has never tip-toed around the line of physical contact. even with shoko, even when she would push him off.

something passes between the two of you. holding his hand is familiar; egged on by four years of standing alongside him. 

you try not to flinch away from the contact. 

and, sure, satoru probably just lost both of them in the store, and you don't actually have everything else you need, or know what those things are, but he's smiling at you. 

he's trying to be reassuring. 

so you smile back and let him hold your hand. 

"we'll figure it out," he whispers to you, and you push the cart this time while the two of you try to find the children he just lost.

*

later that night--after forcing satoru to put away the groceries with the rest of you--megumi lets you sneak into his room with a (third) bag of candy that satoru grabbed last second, acting like you wouldn't notice. 

"where's the best hiding spot for this?" you ask him, looking around.

it's pretty doubtful that satoru would risk going into megumi's room just to look for it. and, you're sure, that megumi probably wouldn't let satoru open the door, nonetheless go through his things.

the boy points at his dresser and moves some clothes so you can hide it at the bottom of one of the drawers. he doesn't even question your motivations.

as you back out of the room again, you make him promise not to tell, and, for a single second, megumi smiles back at you, crossing his heart. 

*

next part

[writer-room]

Listen when people say they want Percy to go on a villain arc most times I see it as they want him to go dark, want him to start murdering, maiming, going full Luke, etc. And I support that. If anyone deserves to kill people it's this kid.

However, let us be realistic for a moment, because I quite like the other alternative. Villain arc Percy usually entails "he's finally had enough of the Gods bullshit & will do things his own way". Let us think on this. What would Percy most likely do in this situation? Would it really be murder right off the bat?

I think he'd be the pettiest, annoying little shit there is. And because one can't usually threaten the Gods in a way that truly matters, but they can make them sweat really hard.

This goes beyond ignoring their calls and leaving them on read. He refuses to give food offerings unless it's the nastiest shit known to man. Bribes the cyclops into hucking huge objects up Mount Olympus before they all scurry off. Finds the olive tree Athena gave to Athens, and while he wouldn't have the heart to destroy it, he'd for sure rip off a branch & mail it to her (Annabeth nearly had to put them in witness protection).

Eventually it gets to the point he has Nico on speed-dial and offers him a shit ton of fast food & a 'get out of Percy's quest bullshit free' pass if he could hop into the Underworld and yoink up some annoying spirits or dead monsters to piss off the Gods. When the Gods get pissed at him Percy just silently pulls out some safe-for-demigods phone like "hang on I wanna see how many happy meals I owe Nico for bringing Typhon back up". They know he is not bluffing.

Could the Gods counteract him? Yeah, sure, Hera gave him amnesia and it was like 90% effective for a while. However, he kind of went off the rails, everyone else went off the rails, and then they had even more Roman nonsense to deal with. If anything it both solved but also made even more problems. And a much angrier Percy. So, frankly, they're very confident it could work, but they're a little worried about what the aftermath would be.

Ares suggests just killing him. Poseidon takes offense to this. Artemis scoffs and says even Ares couldn't beat him. Everyone stops for a moment. The question is not asked verbally. But it is seen in the darting eyes and shifting seats.

Can they kill Percy Jackson?

Well, sure, they must be able to. He's a powerful kid, no doubt, with powerful allies, but they are Gods. Of course they can kill him. So that's not the real question, they wouldn't dare really entertain such a thing to ever confirm if it was true, but this is rather the layer of frosting hiding the real atrocity of a cake underneath it.

What will they lose trying to kill Percy Jackson?

What will remain standing in the face of some 18-year-old who lived one of the hardest knocks of life, loves so much it makes them sick, is so completely unaware of his own strength not even they know its full extent, and currently has absolutely zero fucks to give about the end of a reign longer than he will ever understand?

They decide to quietly shut the lid on that whole fiasco and let Percy do whatever he wants.

Unfortunately, they can't exactly ignore everyone else. And everyone else is who Percy cares about the most. So, think of it more like leaving a grenade in a locked box in the attic. Just hope and pray you've moved out before something gets curious and starts rummaging around up there.

[comfortless]

This Time Around

König + fem! house sprite reader

content/warnings: reader wears dresses, König is soft and lonely, pining, comfort & fluff.

notes: @deltrese put the thought of König inheriting a little dollhouse from his grandmother in my head whilst i was watching Arrietty and… yknow. likely not anyones cup of tea but the idea was too cute to not write out eheh. not proofread, apologies! wc: 8.5k.

She survives on drops of honey, dew trickling from the asters springing up along the brick skirt wrapped around the lower level of the house, sips of canned soup and crumbs of bread when he forgets to clean up after a dinner prepared far too late into the night. He’s far from a messy man; he keeps his house in lovely shape, but he’s weary, more tired than any of the mice undergoing torpor she’s crossed paths with in the attic.

In her own way, she’s grown fond of this giant. Not fond enough to reveal herself in full, but she’s polite enough to sweep his crumbs from the table after he’s gone to bed, spend a day patching up an old shirt of his with a tiny thorn and scraps of thread if she notes a tear in the fabric of some ugly, dark thing he wears. She’s always amazed when he notices her busywork, too. The way he will hold the shirt in front of his face with a boyish grin after taking notice of how skillfully it’s been repaired, the way he calls out, “Danke freunden!” in that soft tone of voice that reminds her of a breeze passing through a windchime.

She knows that he doesn’t truly think that anyone else is here at all; that’s just how humans were— silly things. Something strange happens and they’ll try any way that they can to rationalize it or personify whatever may have caused it. König looked the part of a rational man, but her heart seems to swell when he gives away just how superstitious he truly is.

He’s ritualistic in some ways; covers his mouth when he yawns as though fearing that the Devil himself will come scurrying out of his windpipe, the wind chimes he has hanging up on his front porch, even knocking on the wood of the dining room table as he passes through lost in thought about something. She might be, too, because she always whispers her wishes of good favor to him when she knows he’s heading off on some grand adventure in the world outside.

She likes that she can make sure he feels less alone.

The man never has any visitors, and more often than not, he’s away. She likes to imagine he visits beautiful places, climbs mountains she will never in her lifetime see the peaks of, runs his calloused hands over the sharp edges of leaves and plucks dandelions puffed with seeds to blow wishes into. She pictures him having sweet, doting friends, all smiles when he’s around. Though, she is almost certain that the reality is nothing of the sort.

She’s seen him come home with fresh wounds, blood seeping through gauze haphazardly wrapped around his side. She’s seen the look in his eye when he stares blankly at the lifeless wall for what feels like hours, breathing out long sighs as his fingers curl and loosen in repetition at his sides. Regrettably, she’s fretted over the sight of tears welling in his eyes to the extent that she’s almost dared to come out of hiding, to console him just a little.

He’s hurting.

She’s alone too, here. There are others like her, of course. Groups of them cluster in lived-in homes chattering all throughout the night, getting into any mischief their tiny hands can fall upon to prepare. Often times, when a little sprite such as herself chooses a place, the others come flocking, too— making merry, stealing from their humans in ways hardly worthy of a second glance and starting colonies in the rafters, far out of sight.

But no one else will touch this place.

The house is a beautiful thing, meant for a family. There were so many rooms that she had yet to even explore herself. Not a pet in sight to chase after her and swallow her whole. The floors are soft carpet she often beds down in on nights she can feel he won’t be returning, plush and soft and so unused to human traffic. She loves it here, even if her kind do not. She might even understand why, too. It’s so melancholic, haunted by this miserable giant with heavy footfalls and tears perpetually unshed, held back by the grace of quivering hands in a body with too many scars.

She’s tried to count them before, once, whilst he was changing in his room. She wasn’t trying to steal a glimpse of his body, no, she only wanted to see what stories he was hiding, written on flesh. Perched on a bookshelf, she watched the giant as he pulled his shirt over his head, some tight, black cloth that didn’t look cozy at all. He had a cut running from his navel to his chest, a few penny sized keloids along his ribcage. The giant’s body was pale, as though he had never at all caught the eye of the sun, the only thing making him look still-alive and healthy were the layers of muscle across the chest, bunching down to his abdomen.

A pretty sight, undoubtedly for women similar in stature to him, but to her she sees only his fluttering pulse in the vein along his neck, the shaking of hands too large, and those horribly sad eyes that shatter her heart with only a glimpse.

She had nearly been caught then, with her palm splayed out over her chest in open awe and sympathy for this poor, cursed beast. His gaze had snapped over to the appeal of small movement on the shelf only to find nothing at all; she had tucked herself behind a copy of a Ungeduld des Herzens.

That was two months ago.

He had left the following morning, a black duffel bag thrown over his shoulder as he meticulously walked through the home shutting off lights and closing doors. Except… he left two lights on this time; the kitchen and his bedroom were cast in a white glow. She thought, assuredly that the artificial suns in their glass casings will burn out by the time that he returns. She also realized how strange it is that he would do such a thing at all. The man was prone to his habits, and it welled her up with dread to think that perhaps the book hadn’t entirely concealed her shape, that he had seen her peeking out between old pages covered in thin layers of dust.

She occupied her time scrounging around for anything that may have suggested his cerulean eyes had fallen upon her, When a human catches sight, it’s best to leave as though a house sprite had never been there at all; she certainly didn’t care for uprooting from this cozy, quiet life in the presence of a man that she harbored a fluttering, sympathetic heart for.

To her relief, she found nothing of note.

— — —

It was rare for him to be gone this long. She’s lost track of the days after a quaint seventy-three. A decent meal is harder to come by when he isn’t accidentally feeding her; the cabinets and pantry are shut, and there’s absolutely no hope of her small hands prying open the big portal leading to a perpetual winter that humans referred to as a refrigerator. Dew drops, wild strawberries and blackberries get tiresome after a while, and sneaking outside is dangerous, anyway. The birds don’t think her anything more than a bug, something simple to descend upon and scoop into a hungry beak.

She gathers up a thin piece of thread and, after tossing it into the air an innumerable amount of times only to have it land in a heap at her feet, she finally manages to hook it onto one of the knobs of a cabinet where she knows he keeps brightly colored packages of store bought cookies.

Those were for rougher days, always in date because god knows the man probably had never had a day that wasn’t somewhat harrowing. She’s seen him drink jåger and munch cookies while watching the television late into the night more times than she can count.

She pulls the thread tight and takes steps backwards to fling the cabinet door wide open. It takes a lot of effort from her small size, but she prides herself on managing even without a cluster of other sprites to help her along. Her stomach rumbles when the package comes into view and she readily climbs into the cabinet, up a few cans and boxes to reach the second shelf.

The package is opened with careful precision. She’s diligent at emulating the rips and tears she’s seen on similar ones to make it look like an accident occurred on some storage room shelf. Her heart swells in utter delight as the sweet smell of sugar and cinnamon wafts up her nostrils, her mouth watering by the time she pulls one of the baked goods free from its confinement as she seats herself on the thin wooden board of the shelf with the treat in her lap.

It’s when her lips part and she lowers her head to take a bite that her ears prick to the sound of the front door opening. She missed the sounds of the turning lock, likely whilst fussing with the plastic and now… now it’s simply too late for her to haul off her spoils, shimmy down back to the linoleum floor, manage to unthread her makeshift cabinet-door-opener and shut it, leave it as though it had never been touched.

She’s never made a grave error like this. There have been close calls, certainly, but never one that set her off with the alarm of certainty that she would be discovered.

The lock clicks back into place, and there’s the sound of heavy boots being dropped to the floor before soft footfalls could be heard against the plush carpet.

… Headed straight in her direction.

Don’t come in the kitchen. Do not come in in the kitchen!

She finds herself in a tossup between petrified by her own fear and utterly entranced by the idea of being caught. Finally, after years of watching her giant from shadows and covered perches. The idea that he might crush her like a bug or capture her to marvel at like a pet crosses her mind, certainly, but a part of her wants to believe that her fondness for him wouldn’t be entirely unreciprocated.

From her perch, she can see the dark camos, the looming shadow as he trudges into the room only to stop, immediately, when he notices the little door flung wide open. He’s wearing that hood he wears often when he returns, a scrap of bleached fabric with eye holes torn out. She’s taken to stitching it more times than she can count, breathing in the scent of sweat, of strange lingering smoke as she works to fix the threading along the eyeholes. It’s difficult to make out his expression like this, but his blue eyes dart from the open cupboard to the rest of the room before landing back there.

He grunts out a noise of confusion, and she can almost hear his thoughts. He wouldn’t have left it open. The lights had been intentionally left on. That was a sign she had foolishly overlooked.

He takes careful steps toward her, so close now that only the fabric of his tight-fitting trousers filled her view. To her horror, her amazement, his knees bend and he kneels down slowly. This wasn’t the way that things should have went, she should have been more cautious. The hood comes into view all too quickly. Blue eyes widen as they land on her with that big cookie still in her lap.

“Hallo, little one.”

Ohgodohgodohgod.

He’s speaking directly to her. He sees her. He’s not afraid, yet her heart is burning with the icy touch of pure dread.

She clutcheds the pastry tight to her chest, lips pressed into a thin line as she takes a tentative step back into the shadow of the cupboard. So tense, so uncertain. She didn’t want to leave, silently willing him to close his eyes, turn away, forget about the tiny thing he happened upon stealing his food.

Instead, he stares down at her as though he had just found a will to keep living, a reason to stick around despite his bloodied wardrobe and the ever-present loneliness.

“Kleine engel… you are safe, please don’t look at me like that…”

He’s so much kinder than she had ever anticipated, his heart laid bare between the red rings of flesh lining his eyes. Her giant is nothing but gentle, cooing at her in such a quiet voice as though she were a wounded baby bird. Those eyes were filled to the brim with such wonder and hope that she couldn’t turn away now even if he was some rotten carnivorous animal.

“Please don’t look at me.”

The words fall from her lips despite her defenses lowering, shoulders relaxing and her eyes filling with that same look of hope he held.

It’s strange, how someone so massive doesn’t seem to send her scurrying for the hills. He’s huge, but that tenderness in his eyes that makes her feel comforted, reminds her of the gentle lull of streams and the sky filled with puffy clouds like castles in mid-morning.

“Ach… But you are so…”

Tiny, strange, a myriad of words hanging on his tongue, and she feels every one of them with each flutter of her pulse.

“… so pretty. Kleine puppe.”

She drops the cookie at that and it falls to the floor of the shelf with a soft thud that makes her jump in place.

The other sprites have their stories. It’s nice to sit and listen from the comfort of a canopy of grass when another passes through. They speak of the humans that they’ve encountered just as they speak of beasts, keen-eyed cats with sharp claws bared ready to feast upon those like herself. Dangerous things not meant to be associated with. Not one of them has ever mentioned encountering one that looks at them like… this, as though they were something breathtaking, something to be protected.

He huffs out a laugh at her shocked expression, his fingers drumming upon his knees as he watches her.

“I am not a ‘puppe’.”

“A fairy, then?”

She sighs, heavy and exasperated as she sorts out her dress and bends down to retrieve her meal. A pretty thing she had sewn herself from a vintage napkin, blue blossoms and thin lace.

“Are you going… to tell anyone?”

Her giant shakes his head with a laugh, and of course he does— who would he tell?

“I will keep you a secret, puppe.”

“Good, or I’ll curse you!” She warns, trying to puff her chest to seem bigger, more intimidating. She’s too cute to seem anything more than a frightened bunny, and his eyes are swimming in mirth at the sight of her. He’s like a giant child, finding out the fairytales in his books were true all along, only… not the ones about boiling folks like him down to bones to teach a lesson, just the ones where true love and sweet princesses existed.

He asks her a million things in rapid succession then— where she came from, how long she’s been here, what she’s doing, why she never came out before, how she can even exist. They make her head swim and she doesn’t answer a single one. He makes no move to touch her, doesn’t move any more than his nervous fingers and his beautiful eyes. They crease at the outer corners with each wide smile he undoubtedly has beneath that hood and her heart stutters each time like the flapping of little bird wings desperately seeking safe wind to coast in a storm.

She decides that she likes him as she brings herself to sit on the edge of the shelf, nibbling at her cookie whilst he tells her his name, that he works as a soldier— a colonel, sounding prideful despite the fact she has no clue just what that entails. He speaks to her in an energetic whisper, drops his shoulders and lowers himself further as though trying to appear her size, despite the vast disparity between their statures.

“Do you have a place to sleep?” König asks her suddenly, glancing over his shoulder as he looks out towards the den with a pinched brow. It was almost as though he expected a castle fit for her to appear from thin air, white gates and a shimmer of fairy dust surrounding it all.

“The floor is soft… sometimes between the sofa cushions, too. You’ve nearly sat on me before.”

“Nein. That will not do.”

He stands to his feet before she can protest and leaves the room. A part of her still teeters on the edge of running off, escaping before they became too familiar, and yet a more impulsive part wills her to wait as she hears the creak of floorboards beneath his feet whilst his footfalls ascend up into the attic.

She pictures the mice scurrying away in fright, just as she should, while she kicks her feet and waits patiently. The taste of cinnamon and sugar remains on her tongue as she places the remnants of the cookie aside and licks her fingers clean of sweet dust.

König returns a few moments later, a large box cradled in his arms.

“Close your eyes, puppe.”

It doesn’t make sense for her to leave herself vulnerable so soon after their impromptu meeting, and she doesn’t want to, but she does as he asks anyhow with a soft smile on her tiny face. Feels her chest pool with a mixture of excitement and fear as she hears him shuffling about the kitchen, the thump of something heavy being placed on the counter encourages her to flinch. She can hear small objects being set down carefully, the water running from the tap for a moment before the sound of something soft meeting wood fills her ears. It all quiets after a moment and she feels a gentle nudge at her side.

Her eyelids flutter open to see König’s finger gently pressed against her waist, his blue eyes beneath the dark hood fill her vision entirely. He’s so close, too close. As if sensing her apprehension, he raises his head back to look down at her instead.

“It is alright. I have a gift for you.”

König nudges her once more before she realizes that he’s inviting her to climb onto his massive hand. Her breath catches as she glances from the calloused flesh to his eyes and back.

Her kin would scold her severely if they were here, tell her she’s gone too far that there’s no way she will ever come back from this if she accepts. She stinks of human already. That’s how she justifies the way she climbs into his palm with her hands folded into the lap of her dress. His other hand curves around her, not touching, but hovering closely enough to keep her in place as he slowly rises to his full height and carries her over to the counter where he immediately allows her to clamber off before dropping his hands to his sides again.

The sight she’s met with dissolves any lingering fear she had harbored against him.

On the counter sits a wooden dollhouse, painted a lovely shade of blue, the roof a quiet shade of gray. It’s a stately thing, speaking of yesteryear’s Victorian styled homes with its vaulted roof, even a small turret beside the upstairs balcony. Expertly crafted and far too beautiful, perhaps even prettier than König’s empty home. Her eyes are welling with tears as she slowly ascends the three sturdy steps to the front door.

“You like?”

She can’t bring herself to respond immediately. She’s too caught up in this, opening the door with a gentle pull as she wanders into the house. It’s furnished in a hurry, some of the furniture misplaced, but… everything is here, as it would be in a normal, human home. A couch that seemed almost tailored for her size sits beside a little rattan shelf, a small table before it, a little hearth, a full kitchen and upstairs she finds a bedroom complete with a canopy bed. The curtains hanging off of it are blue like the outside, like the floral wallpaper adorning the dollhouse. She tests the bed with a gentle hand, marveling at how soft it was, how the sheets bunch beneath her palm.

Then, she approaches the window in admiration of all of the small details, little etchings of plant life carefully scrawled along the wood. The lock even clicks open as she pushes the little sheet of plastic framed by white to rise.

“It’s perfect,” she chirps out to her giant. “It’s so beautiful…”

“Oma gave it to me when I was a boy.” König’s reply sounds bittersweet, but his eyes are shimmering, as though the fact he had made this small woman so happy had been the height of his year, perhaps even an entire decade of his life. She’s seen him quietly weep to himself long into the night, only a breadth away from him as she tucks herself further into couch. He’s seemed gentle, less of a titan and more battered then, but he’s never seemed this sweet. “And now I am giving it to you.”

— — —

Sleeping in a bed is different. It’s quiet and soft with no worries of getting crushed by a heavy boot or threats of having a presence too large finding out about her existence. Those things do absolutely nothing to lull her to comfort as a dull the throbbing in her chest blossoms and continues all throughout the night ceaselessly. She tucks the blanket a little tighter around herself as she tosses and turns on the small mattress.

Mornings are different now, too. When König wakes, he taps at her front door to pull her from her restless dreaming. He has a ritual, expecting her to come out in one of the dresses from the dollhouse’s wardrobe rather than her scrapped clothing with a small mug and a plate in hand. He gives her a drop or two of coffee and food from whatever breakfast he’s pieced together. Sometimes it’s a cookie from the cabinet. She feels like a contented housepet these days as he leans over the counter to speak to her.

It’s painful how attentive König is. His eyes don’t leave her when she speaks and he consistently asks her if she needs anything, if there is anything that he could do to make her feel more comfortable as if he hasn’t already provided her with refuge and companionship, things she hadn’t even realized she had been longing for. As if he hasn’t already made her feel things for a human that no sprite should! Really, the way he loiters about with the stupid grin plastered across his face while she stumbles out of her abode to greet him does nothing to make the flutter in her chest feel warranted. It’s there no matter how much she turns her head away from him and barks out her warnings of curses and other mischief; gnaws at her every time she hears his laugh or he tells her yet another stupid story of things she knows nothing of.

She listens, anyway, utterly mesmerized when he speaks of rescuing hostages or tearing through men like a rampaging bull. He explains to her what guns are, shows her and lets her run her tiny hands over polished metal. She should think him violent and obscene, but the way he looks at her as though she’s all he has stifles any judgements before they can leave her lips.

It quickly froths to a point that she realizes she’s come down with a terrible crush. She worries for him after hearing his tales each time he steps foot out of the house on another deployment, rushes from whichever corner she’s occupied with hurried little steps to greet him. She lets him carry her around on his shoulder sometimes, even leans over his arm when it’s stationed on the counter just to feel him near.

She knows better, which is why she finds herself skittering through tall grass to seek another of her kind. Hoping for a reminder that she’s making too many mistakes. The trip is a short walk for a human, but takes her from morning to sunset to reach her destination, a narrow alder tree full of knotholes with sprigs of dandelion surrounding it.

“You what?!” Bellis exclaims, the very second she’s managed to spill her story and slump against a ruggedly crafted table within the trunk of the tree. Bellis’ voice was like the chirping of little nightingales, and she looks cute when she’s surprised— the other sprite’s brown eyes twinkle in such a way that it makes her think of stars falling into pools of honey.

“Yes… we spoke,” she huffs, curling her arms around her waist, her face feeling hot and her eyes dreamy. Bellis knows the look well enough, the other sprite has it every time she locks eyes with her wife, another sprite far too pretty. It’s affection, one that she graciously spares her friend from commenting on.

“It’s alright, you know… just be safe.”

“Of course…”

She anticipated some long-winded lecture of dangers, to be beaten by words targeting her own selfish wants.

Instead, Bellis only offers comfort and the hope that her feelings are not a lost cause.

“You aren’t the only one who has ended up falling for their human, you know?”

“I thought we were supposed to avoid them, not dream of them.”

Bellis giggles and drapes an arm over her shoulder as she prattles on about sprites and glamours that could make them bigger. She tells her of a couple only a weeks travels away, a male sprite and a human woman, how he feasts upon wild berries and golden herbs under each new moon to keep himself human-sized day and night for the woman that he loves. Bellis reminds her that the other sprites frown upon it out of fear for their own safety, but she also reminds her that she’s damned to live a life far longer than the object of her affection, anyhow, and that if he already knows of her existence then what’s the harm in it?

Those words fill her with fantasies about a happy life, where she can hold her giant properly in an embrace, rather than wrapping her arms around his thumb to satiate the burning affection running rampant through her.

They also damn her to heartbreak when König returns.

He comes home after two short weeks this time, rather than months and she rushes to greet him as always. König bends down on a knee, scoops her up in his palm and brings her over to the sofa where he sets her on the opposite end from where he sits.

“How was your trip?” She asks him sweetly as she plops down onto the pillowy cushion below, fidgeting with the hem of her dress in excitement. She knows what she knows now, and she truly could not wait to tell him, to give life to the newfound feelings in her chest. She wonders what König would say; would he take her on dates? Would he dance across the room with her as she’s seen sprites in the throes of courtship do before? Would he kiss her? The thought makes her feel warm again.

König, on the other hand seems perfectly composed and lost in thought. His hands are fidgeting, but this time, not with themselves. He’s holding a device she doesn’t recognize, tapping at the little screen with the same look in his eyes that she reserves solely for him.

“It was fine.” He mumbles, and for the first time he doesn’t elaborate. She looks forward to his stories. Time away from him is difficult now. It passes slowly without their morning chatter, without his stories, without the films she watches with him late into the night. He’s taught her to use the remote, sure, but it’s not the same without him towering at her side.

“What is that?”

“A phone.”

She listens intently when he explains what this strange object is, even shows her the bright screen and lets her tap her hand against it a few times as she looks at the shifting colors with wide eyes.

“I visited a friend while you were away.”

He rests his phone in his lap and looks down at her then, his interest piqued.

“There are more like you?”

“Yes, lots.” She giggles. She tells him of Bellis who lives in the alder with her wife, of how her dark hair curls and her voice sounds like the chirping of birds. König pays rapt attention as she speaks, belays his curiosity of the prospect of there being many more like his little housemate with a tilt of his head.

“I made a friend while I was away.” He gestures toward his phone with a smirk. “Pretty, like you, but bigger.”

König explains to her what a ‘dating app’ is with a look of pure glee on his face. She’s never seen him so happy, not even when he first met her. It’s not a concept she can wrap her head around, her kind just happen upon one another, sing and dance and feast together until love blooms between them. There’s no need for little, lighted rectangles when it came to courtship.

“She’s coming to visit soon.” He pauses as his phone lights up again, his eyes scanning over the message on screen as a grin spreads over his thin lips. “I will have to hide you.”

Her face scrunches in disdain at that as she rises to her feet to pad a bit closer to the hill of his thigh, spread over into the next seat. She places her palms against the rough fabric of his pants, looking up at him with an expression of sheer bewilderment.

“But I don’t wanna hide anymore — we are friends.”

The man’s smile falters a bit then, as he nods his head in agreement.

“Ja… but she will be more.”

“What’s that mean?”

“I am taking her on a date.”

König seems so happy, and yet she feels as if she’s being bitten by a viper. All of that talk with Bellis was for naught, because the human man that’s won her heart by telling her of his creature comforts, of war and sharing his meals with her has left her to have his heart stolen away by another.

Despite the way it hurts, she doesn’t find herself upset with him. He isn’t like her, and he’s been alone for far too long. She reminds herself that König deserves to be happy, especially after all that he’s done for her.

She only lets herself cry when he brings her back to the dollhouse and she sinks into the sheets of her bed.

The following morning comes and she wakes feeling refreshed before König even begins his tapping. She bathes in the little plastic tub filled with lukewarm water König had graciously fetched for her the night before from the faucet, clothes herself in one of the many doll dresses found in the little wooden wardrobe of her home. Dainty florals like the wallpaper in the little wooden house, only this time pink rather than blue.

When König taps at her door, she’s already prepared with her tiny mug and plate in hand, a smile on her face.

“Guten morgen, puppe.” He greets her with a lazy grin as he opens his palm to take her dainty kitchenware. His yawn is cute when he turns away to begin filling the liner of the well with coffee grounds. She follows after him across the countertop with hurried steps to match his vast strides.

As he prepares their breakfast, they speak endlessly of dreams, sweet syrupy things. He tells her he dreams of flowers sometimes, like the ones on her dress, and she tells him she dreams of exploring the world outside with him.

“I will carry you to the top of a mountain one day, little one.” König says sweetly as they both sip at their coffee. He doesn’t prepare it black as often anymore, often adding sugar and milk simply because he knows that she likes it better that way.

She tells him she doesn’t need to see the tops of mountains, because she already gets a perfect view when he carries her.

— — —

“I’ll be back later.”

König is dressed strangely, she notes as she watches him from the arm of the couch. He’s dressed casually, more so than she had ever seen him, which is a large statement considering the man normally roamed around his abode in nothing more than a pair of black sweatpants. Tonight, however, he’s chosen a black t-shirt with some text scrawled across it that she can’t quite read and tough denim. It’s an odd sight when she’s grown so accustomed to the bare flesh of his scarred torso and gaudy military camos unsuited for cozy, indoor wear.

The giant crouches to lace up his boots with one hand while the other holds his phone. There’s that smile on his face again, but she easily takes notice of the way his hand shakes with it in his grip. He’s nervous, but never so with her.

It’s strange that he’s more comfortable with a little creature in his home than he is with his own kind.

“Oh… your date,” she murmurs, standing up to her full height, despite how small it may be.

“Ja, my date.”

“Can we watch another movie when you get back?”

König nods his head as he approaches the couch, slipping his phone back into his pocket before gently stroking the top of her head as though she were just a small kitten.

She doesn’t like the fact that he doesn’t see her as anything more than a cute pet any longer. Sprites didn’t keep track of their ages as humans do, celebrating the day they were born into the world with silly parties and gifts, but she would hazard to guess she’s at least a century older, maybe more. This wasn’t her first home, only, in the last she had watched that family wither away to an endless rest.

König was different; she wanted him to stay, thrive, live forever here with her. A selfish, silly wish.

When she leans into his touch, she thinks of the couple Bellis spoke of— a sprite and a human woman. It could be the same for she and König, if only he saw her for what she truly was, what she was capable of being.

“Ja, little one. As many as you like.”

She watches as the door closes behind him with her heart in her throat.

König does not keep her waiting long. If she had to hazard any sort of guess, she would assume that the moon hanging in the sky had barely moved by the time he returns. She hadn’t even left the couch, lying on her back staring up at the ceiling when the front door is flung open.

If it were possible for him to somehow look more pitiable, he does in that moment as he kicks off his boots and rests his phone and keys on the table by the door. She knows without a word exchanged that she should not ask him what’s happened. The broad shoulders were slumped, his face somehow paler. In that moment, her giant seemed even smaller than her.

She sits up and presses the buttons on the remote with her entire hand as König had shown her how to do, loading up some Austrian film he had told her was his favorite when he was just a boy. He offers her a lazy smile as he carefully places himself a respectful distance away and leans back into the couch. The movie plays while she occasionally speaks up to ask him what certain words mean, and he patiently teaches her, seeming thankful for the distraction she eagerly provides.

She doesn’t wake in her small house, in her tiny bed, this time, instead pressed against his thigh with his hand draped over her in the world’s heaviest blanket. When she raises her head up to look at him, peacefully resting with his head tilted against the back of the couch, jaw slack and dark lashes fluttering she makes a firm decision.

The golden herbs and berries Bellis had mentioned were on the far side of the forest. A long, dangerous trek, especially for someone who didn’t know the way. Rousing a mouse to treat as a steed could work, but the urgency caused her to fret. She wanted to meet his gaze and not fear stumbling back with each exhale of his breath, to be strong and capable enough to make her giant somehow feel as safe as he made her feel. There was no time to befriend a mouse and train it proper, not if she intended to do this before the new moon came and went.

She slips from beneath König’s limp palm, off of the sofa and out the small gap in the window to set off.

— — —

The early morning is alive with the chirping of birds, the rustling of leaves and calls of strange animals a distance away when she makes it outdoors. She shields herself beneath a broad fallen leaf, hunkering down to soil any time anything soars or wanders too close for her liking. Morning dew chills her to her bones, and she has herself convinced that after all of this she will most certainly craft herself a coat, perhaps one made out of a sleeve from one of König’s old shirts. He would allow it, she’s certain. The thought of him even wasting a day away to help her fills her up with another warmth to carry on.

Her little dress is filthy before she even makes it out of the yard.

Tall grass quickly morphs into a forested trail, the trees so vast and tall, filled with the chattering and singing of others. She waves to some of them, turns her nose up at a few that beckon her to join their little communes hidden beneath layers of tree bark and moss. She spots a red fox chasing after another in the midst of play, they chitter and whine as they topple over one another before bounding off into the brush.

When the sun completes a lazy crawl high up into the sky, it’s rays of warmth beaming down on to the back of the leaf, warming her fingers as they curl over it to keep it in place, she knows she should stop and rest. Tucked away in the shade of a small mulberry bush, she shoos away a vibrantly colored caterpillar before cleaning off one of the berries with a handkerchief she finds in the pocket of her dress. A small lunch that simply leaves her wishing for König’s breakfasts instead, always warm and filled with moments of soft laughter.

She wonders what he’s spending his time doing now, almost feeling a pang of guilt for leaving him after what had assuredly been a terrible outing with a woman he had admired. Did he miss her? Was he thinking of her, too? Searching through his bookshelf and beneath his couch in an effort to find her? She hoped so.

Her journey ends when night finally comes about. The moon above is a mere sliver, but it’s enough to frame the clusters of goldenrod in a soft, white glow amidst a sea of inky darkness. She cheers in utter delight when she realizes she’s made it, that despite no map or guides her senses were keen enough to carry her on the right path. She carefully gathers a few clippings, dropping them into a neat pile before seeking out the strange berries Bellis had told her about. Her thoughts are flooded by the idea of how she and König will dance, how she will tell him in a voice as loud as his own that she’s fallen head over heels for him and that perhaps, he can even teach her to use one of his many weapons before they clamber onto the couch snug and warm to talk throughout a film.

Those thoughts keep her warm when she beds down in a nest of wild grasses.

The next night fills her with excitement. The sky is darker with the new moon hanging up above, only pinpricks of starlight break through the dark. She pictured herself human sized as she performs her little ritual, feasting on berries and swaying with a sprig of goldenrod in a little dance before she bites down into it to. There are other sprites here, doing the same. Some get bigger to move or for silly things such as being able to shop in human markets or taste meat for the first time. They sing and giggle just as she does, and she sees the face flush with love of the one she knew Bellis had spoken of. It lasts the entire night, and she’s far too excited to sleep or stay out when all is done.

She doesn’t know when she’ll change shape, not having thought to even ask, but the sight of the other sprites had solidified her belief that it would come to pass.

The way back feels far shorter than the way forward. She finds herself back in the yard just as the sky settles into mottled purples and orange and puffy white clouds. The smile on her face makes her cheeks hurt, and her chest and legs ache from exertion, but she treks on until she meets the brick foundation of the house. With and arm raised and a foot dig into the firm clay, she begins to climb up towards the window still left slightly ajar.

Only, she feels a warmth at her side that tosses her back into the grass steps away. It pulls her breath from her lungs and it takes a moment for her to force herself back up into a crouch and her vision to cease its swimming. She’s always found cats to be cute from a distance away, all soft fur and pleasant sounds. The one before her, however seems menacing, its claws are bared and its pupils blown as his mouth hangs open to scent. The orange of its fur is like fire, the yellow of irises like the sun itself.

This thing was going to kill her, she knew it before she even caught sight of the way claws had slashed through the side of her dirty dress leaving shallow gashes in her flesh.

The cat rears back, shifting on its haunches in preparation to pounce as she wails out König’s name in a near-silent prayer that he would come rescue her from this adorable little murderer.

The cat is caught in arms the size of trees mid-leap. It yowls for a moment before a hand gently begins to stroke the fiery fur behind its ears. Her giant coos to the little beast, and the vibration of a soft purr could be heard as she dusts herself off and stands.

“Are you alright, little one?”

His voice is sweet as he carefully sets the cat back into the grass and scoops her up instead. She looks pitiful— dirty, injured and panting as though she’s just escaped Hell itself. König’s expression grows horribly concerned before she can even catch her breath enough to respond.

“I’m okay,” she mumbles as she rests her weary head on the palm that feels more like rough stone than living flesh. “I was only gone for two nights, did you have to get a pet?”

König laughs at that, shaking his head as he takes her back inside the house with metered steps.

“Nein, I did not. He’s the neighbor’s.”

He shuts the door behind him, taking care to ensure the scruffy feline didn’t sneak inside.

“Let’s clean you up, hm?”

The man offers her a human bandage for the scrape along her waist before she wanders into the dollhouse to bathe, dress the wound and change into something less dirty.

After everything, she finds herself utterly exhausted. She tells König good night wishes, but her giant is hellbent on keeping her in his sight. After a close call like that, she doesn’t protest when he tells her they should sleep on the couch again instead. It’s safer, and after two days apart there’s little more that she wants than to be close to him, tucked under his palm eternally safe. König only gets through the start of a story before she’s fallen asleep curled against the side of his thigh. It doesn’t take long for the giant to follow suit, either. His soft snoring is present in her dreaming, a gentle sound accompanying the breeze of wind through a field of lavender where they sit hand-in-hand.

— — —

König does not wake her with gentle tapping the next morning. Instead, it’s a bark of surprise that jolts her from her sleeping. Her vision is blurry when her eyelids flutter. She can make out the view of the coffee table, the television beyond it, and somehow it feels wrong. She was accustomed to straining her neck to look up at things, yet seeing them now she doesn’t need to at all. In fact, it feels stranger when she notes her head is no longer resting on the cushion of the couch below, but on a broad shoulder layered in muscle instead.

König is staring at her as though he’s just encountered a ghoul. In fact, he’s trembling too. His reaction is enough to prompt her to shrink back, away from him and retreat to the arm of the couch. Only, she can’t fit the entirety of herself there as easily as she had many times before. Her legs are much too long, and making her ascent only brings her hands into view. She holds one to her face and marvels at it before her gaze trails down, down and she notices she’s nude. The little dress she had been wearing was no more than a tattered and torn mess on the couch beside König, who’s still gawking at her.

He turns his head away rigidly after a moment while she sits bewildered by her change in shape. The man returns after a beat with a large t-shirt and a pair of his boxers in hand, thrusting them towards her graciously as he keeps his face turned away. She can make out the red tint on his cheeks, the way his lips part only to slam shut when words fail him and she laughs full and giddy as she slips his clothing on and stands up to twirl about the room.

“It worked!”

Her voice sounds strange even to her own ears now. Shouting from her regular stature still resulted in a mere whisper, yet this… along with seeing all she can hear all. Just as he does, she sounds of rustling wind chimes.

She reaches for his hand to pull him along in her rhythmless swaying, and he obliges with a sigh and a shake of his head. König’s grinning, though. Even more so than when he wasted his time tapping away at the phone screen. He looks happier than she’s ever seen him as he clumsily shuffles with her.

“Little one… what did you do?”

He’s still a fair bit bigger than her, but she stands the height she feels as though she should. Her giant is still a giant no matter what silly magic she uses, but it’s fine, because he’s not looking at her as a tiny doll anymore, but in utter amazement instead. The way his pulse races and his pale cheeks burn crimson isn’t lost on her.

She explains to him just what the other sprite told her, tells him about the one she saw so in love with a human woman he did the same each month to keep himself more her size too. König halts her movement as he tugs her against him and pulls her into an embrace, the very thing she’s yearned for since the afternoon they began to speak. She knows he’s confused and entirely confused, but he bends to rest his chin on the crown of her head and squeezes her so tightly that she knows he’s grateful for this small miracle too.

She helps König prepare breakfast this time. Having watched him ready his coffee pot dozens of times by now, she knows how to operate the small, black machine. She prepared the toast too, with a gratuitous sweep of jam over each slice of the warm bread. König is still overly gentle with her, keeping his distance and not resting his hands on her unless it’s required or she prompts it. She does, often intertwine her fingers with his even as they eat, which earns her a shy smile and a gentle squeeze each time. Her giant isn’t nervous with her, their conversations are the same. He tells her that she’s pretty as often as before, cups a steady hand on her shoulder when she reaches out to embrace him after their meal.

She thinks ahead and leads König into the forest to gather a plethora of golden herb and berries to stuff into the winter box for the next time she will need to perform her little ritual, and he swears to her that he will stay up the entire night to watch over her then. The walk is so much shorter from her height now, but she doesn’t forget to tap at Bellis’ alder and flash the sprite a little smile and a wave when König has his back turned on the way back.

He still has his work, and she waits at home for him like a doting housewife. Only now, he returns with gifts. His closet is no longer dark green and black— there are patches of soft colors and whites between, floral fabric and lace, dainty things that seem comical amidst the tactical articles and denims she knows he’s scrubbed blood off of a few too many times.

They don’t share a bed, but they still cuddle against one another on the couch. Hand-in-hand as she’s always dreamt of. In fact, most nights it’s his bed that she sleeps in while he rests elsewhere, and he doesn’t mind it at all. He even tucks her in and presses a kiss to her cheek that makes her so giddy that she can’t find sleep until a half-hour afterwards before he flicks off the lamp and leaves her to her dreaming.

— — —

She’s better at keeping track of time after adjusting to a more domesticated life. König’s been out for fifty-four days, but she doesn’t have to miss him so much. He’s gifted her a phone, sends her letters with his stories scrawled out in black ink. The calls are frequent, and she finds she loves them most of all. They’re at odd hours often, and he always breathes out an apology for having woken her that pulls a giggle from her, because they both know she wouldn’t have preferred to wake any other way than from the sound of his voice.

“I miss you.”

He sounds tired when he says it, and she imagines that he is. Those weary looks from before they had ever even spoken weren’t unwarranted and she knows well enough now. His tales of his heroics were not all spoken to simply boast.

“I miss you too, König.”

He huffs out a laugh into the phone, and she imagines his smile reaching the bright eyes that she loves, twinkling in mirth.

“I should let you sleep.”

“No, it’s fine.” She pauses to chew on her lip, heart sailing up into her throat. “Will you be coming home soon?”

He grunts out his confirmation. “Tomorrow.”

“I wish to take you on a date then— a picnic, maybe. I can bake a cake.”

König falls silent for a moment, and her breathing halts entirely as she slumps back against the bed— his bed— feeling as though she were still just as small as before. Surely… she could not have misread all of those little looks, the warmth and his fluttering pulse she felt as she rested her head on his arm so many times before. She parts her lips to recant her statement, but there’s no need. The contented sigh she hears in response is all of an answer that she needs.

“Ja, please. I would be honored.”

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Have you ever heard of Priest Holes? Well, if you live in England, check your attic, b/c you may have one. Once upon a time, it was illegal to be Catholic in England.

King Henry VIII needed a male heir & blamed Catherine of Aragon, his 1st wife, for not giving him one.  On these grounds, he asked the Pope for an annulment, which was refused, so Henry founded his own church (the Church of England). And because he was King, the entire country was required to convert to his new religion.

It was high treason for a priest to even enter England.  Priest Holes are pretty much what they sound like: Small, tucked-away medieval cubbies where Catholic families could hide their priests.

They had to be small, b/c priest hunters were out to find the heretics. They were no taller than four feet, wedged in any space in the house that could discreetly accommodate them.

When priest hunters became wise to these hidden spaces, they would wait until the families thought they had gone, and then seize the priest when he came out. Some homes like this one, had multiple Priest Holes.

This one, formerly a medieval sewer, was found under a kitchen. 

This man found one in the wall of his home.

Here’s one that was found above a bread-oven, in the thickness of the chimney stack.

Nicholas Owen was a carpenter who specialized in building Priest Holes. Owen  worked alone and at night to avoid suspicion.

Some of his work throughout England may still be undiscovered. For example, this one, rediscovered in 1858, was not fully opened until 1910, and “still inside were a rope ladder, a small tapestry, bedding and a folding leather altar.”

Owen did eventually get caught. The first time he was discovered, in 1594, he was tortured, but did not reveal the names or locations of his fellow Catholics. He was released after a wealthy Catholic family paid a fine on his behalf, and went back to building Priest Holes.

In 1606, though, Owen was arrested again.

But, this time, he was tortured so badly, he died an awful death, having revealed nothing to his inquisitors. He later became Saint Nicholas Owen, the Patron Saint of Illusionists and Escapologists.

https://www.messynessychic.com/2021/03/24/another-reason-to-check-your-attic-priest-holes/

[bruciemilf]

Besties. We know Bruce's adoption streak could outshine the sun, but have we considered:

Bruce is adopted, too, and he just. Forgot to tell his kids.

It all started with Damian hiding in the attic. He's an expert fighter, yes; An expert fighter who does not want to face Cass after eating the last muffin. Gracious as she is, Cassandra had her lines.

And he had to occupy his time with something. So there he is, flipping through photo albums covered in sheets of dust that leave him frowning. Alfred is careful and strict about cleaning.

The only reason why he wouldn't polished these, he weights, is because he couldn't find them. But why would anyone hide these?

He flips through pages and pages of his grandmother, glamours and sparkling and haughty, playing around with Baba; Chocholate pudding around their mouths at Galas. Playing dress up in her closet. A younger version of his Baba chewing on a pearl necklace.

There's pictures of his grandfather, too, except, -

Except. He's evidently not nearly as pale as his wife and child.

Damian blinks. Rubs his eyes. Maybe there's a mistake? Maybe this man with a sunbeam smile and warm eyes carrying Martha over his shoulder and Baba under his arm isn't Thomas.

But no; He watches the cursive, neat writing lovingly put down below the polaroid shot, - Tommy, Martha, and Bruce, 1998. Thomas dropped Bruce after Below it, another harsh scribble responds,

Gonna drop YOU next time, Cabron - T. Wayne

Note for future self; Don't let Thomas hold Bruce. - M. Wayne

He had to run down the stairs.

"GRANDFATHER WAS NOT CAUCASIAN. "

Bruce, lifting his gaze from the game of Batnopoly (Tim thought It'd be so funny), blinks at him, " He was Colombian, if you want to get technical."

" But you don't... Baba, you're, so, uh...Flavour-proof."

" Oh, he wasn't my biological father. He adopted me after he and mama got married." Everyone roasts Dick so hard because how the hell did HE not know?

" You always whine about " Oh I'm the only one who's not adopted!" That's cause you pull shit like this you clown bus"

" Parents aren't real people you seek information about, everyone knows that, JASON!"

The batkids soon start a game of finding Bruce's bio dad.

" I have no idea who he is."

"WHAT!"

"I have one father and he's probably arm wrestling God beyond the grave. And winning."

[temis-de-leon]

Replaced MC AU/AU - Part 2

Characters: demon brothers, fem!MC and flirty! fem! NES (MC x NES)

How’s it gonna be , Intro – Part 0 , Part 1 , Part 3

Masterlist

CW: rejection, abandonment, women flirt hard from my experience but this is mild i think, suggestive but also mild, lession 16 mentioned, MC is not stupid and deserves to vent, no comfort in this one folks, my favouritism is showing

A/N: Jesus Christ guys. On another note, for those who couldn't be tagged: please check if you can fix the problem! I don't mind sending you a private message, but it's easier this way :)

.

It was a surprise for Lucifer, somehow, seeing someone like MC so content with someone like NES. When one smiled, the other frowned; sweet and spicy; beauty and brawn. The brothers had naively thought having MC share her room was bound to cause problems, but how wrong they were.

Four months into the second year of the program, the two girls had already merged their closets, creating a unique style with their combined clothing. They’d also decided to use one of the beds for storage, sleeping together in the other. The first time that happened and all of them had to face Belphie’s resentment, Lucifer had feared for NES’s safety and even considered confining his brother in the attic again. Thankfully, and surprisingly, the younger demon had opted for the pettier option: ignoring MC altogether and treating NES like a rotten piece of furniture.

He was probably hoping for MC to feel guilty enough to completely ignore NES and come crawling back to him, but, as different as they were, both humans quickly became two peas in a pod, always walking hand in hand, shoulders brushing while exchanging secrets that no one else was allowed to hear.

Overall, the whole situation had become a recurrent topic in the brothers’ groupchat and, while Lucifer wanted to remain as nonchalant as ever, it was impossible to hide his opinions on the matter.

He wasn’t happy.

None of them were.

.

.

Mammon wanted her gone.

He wanted her gone now.

Who did she think she was, stealing MC’s attention from him and acting like she didn’t know what she was doing? Sitting next to her at every meal, massaging her scalp during movie nights and waking her up at odd hours because she liked ‘those late night talks’ in the kitchen?

What type of talks were ‘those’? MC could have them with Mammon; she didn’t need NES! She had him, after all. Her first man!

“Well, I’m her first woman then” answered NES the time they argued over who was gonna sit next to MC in class.

Who did she think she was?!

“Are you okay, Mammon? You seem upset”

And there she came, the bane of his existence, already dressed up in her RAD uniform and dragging MC by the hand. Both of them looked tired and Mammon realized with primal horror that no noise had come from the kitchen that night.

“Why are you so tired?! MC!”

Her only answer was a yawn, so NES gave herself the right to talk on her behalf; but not before handing MC some food for breakfast, of course. 

Although half of it was burnt, Mammon still hoped MC would like it.

“Oh, we were up for a long while, barely slept at all. Right, MC?”

She nodded, happy under the pampering, but her eyelids were half closed and she didn’t seem to notice she was eating her favorites. 

Mammon stared at them in shock and distraught before sparing a glance at Lucifer, who was too occupied checking his DDD and drinking his coffee to pay attention. Had he really looked at him, though, he would’ve seen a twitch in his brother’s forehead and a stillness in his eyes; he wasn’t reading at all.

“Then maybe MC and I could take a nap after class”

They all looked at Belphie, who had started to show an unusual interest in going to RAD those last few days. He was smiling like a kid in a candy store, already gawking at the idea of spending quality time with MC, or, at least, what he considered quality time.

His expression dropped, however, when MC shared a complicit glance with NES and smiled apologetically.

“I’m sorry Belphie, but I already made plans with NES”

“We’re going to Majolish” added said girl with a sly glint in her eyes “MC saw some clothes and wanted an outside opinion” 

Belphie looked downright offended, but not as much as Mammon felt. What did she mean they were going to Majolish because MC wanted an outside opinion? He was there! He was literally a model!! Hell, even Asmo would've been a better choice!

“I’ll go with you!” he announced, not asking for permission “I’m a professional, you know? You should be thankful I’m even considering wasting my time on some dumb humans!”

The youngest demon rolled his eyes, but NES’s expression briefly flickered and that was almost enough for Mammon. Beside him, at the head of the table, Lucifer sighed. 

“Do what you want, but if you end up third wheeling, that’s on you”

MC laughed, neither confirming nor denying anything. NES watched over the brim of her mug, challenging them with unsaid words.

Mammon wanted her gone.

.

.

Famine woke Beel up, like always, so he went to the kitchen, like always. It’d been MC’s turn to cook that night and he was pretty sure she’d stored some leftovers in the fridge for him. It was nice, being remembered even when she was too occupied with NES to pay them attention anymore. It brought some comfort, as well as a small smile to his face.

But much to his chagrin, the kitchen light was already turned on when he arrived, and his mood soured when he saw what was happening. Beel’s heart dropped and plummeted through his guts, deepening the black hole in his stomach. MC was leaning against the counter, creating some concoction in a bowl, while NES hugged her from behind. Both of them waved at him when he made his presence known, getting no greetings in return.

“Hi, Beel! I left food in the fridge for you!”

He wanted to be happy and thank her for the trouble, but he wasn’t able to think properly, not when NES’s face was snuggled into the fluff of MC’s hoodie, hands sneaking around her waist and disappearing under the material.

What was she doing? Should he stop her? But MC looked so cozy… not uncomfortable at all. His throat closed at the same time his stomach roared loud enough to fill the silence in the kitchen.

“Beel, are you okay?” 

“You seem upset”

MC looked worried, but NES’s words crammed his mind. She’d said the same thing to Mammon that morning wearing the same self-satisfied expression.

Ignoring his needs and his emptiness, Beel turned around and left them alone.

.

.

MC was seething. Her thoughts were a mere blurr and a sting in her throat left her unable to speak her mind the way she wanted to do it.

Was he serious?

Were they serious? Those self-righteous hypocrites! 

“We think it’s for the best, MC” spoke Lucifer like she was a child too slow to get his point.

“She’s playing with you, honey! She’ll hurt you!”

The gall. The audacity. The… ugh!

She stared at Asmo baring her teeth, never a threat to them, but a gesture so uncharacteristic of her that it was impossible not to treat the situation seriously. The common room was silent, yet MC was sure every single one of them was able to hear the violent thumping of her heart.

“We’re doing this for you”

“FOR ME?” she screeched at Belphie.

A scream would’ve made her feel better, but she guessed the high pitch got her point across good enough, her anger reaching every corner of the room. The brothers stayed silent, eyes wide open and muscles tense, waiting for her next movement. Not even when she got up from her seat and paced they spoke.

“YOU DO THIS FOR YOU!” 

“MC, lower your voice”

“NO”

Lucifer glared at her, the red in his eyes glowing dangerously. MC wanted to keep going just to spite him, begrudgingly giving up in the end. She was close to crying out of frustration and her throat hurted, so screaming would only hurt her more.

“You were the ones that insisted so much on having another human exchange student” she reminded them, stopping in front of the fireplace and basking in the warmth for some comfort, pointing to the eldest brother with clenched jaws “You said it would improve the program!”

“She’s holding you back, distracting you and using you for her own entertainment!” intervened Satan before Lucifer could speak.

“Oh, because you were so altruistic last year! Treating me with all the respect I deserved! Totally not threatening me all the time or even killing me for selfish reasons! You’d never do that to me, would you?!”

They lowered their gaze, suddenly very embarrassed, and MC felt a part of her healing. Then she saw Levi’s glassy eyes and Beel’s defeated expression. Neither Mammon nor Belphie weren’t even looking at her anymore. And she could live without Belphie’s half-hearted apologies, but not without the brothers under a pact.

“I believe this is enough, MC. Calm down and we’ll talk again in the morning”

Lucifer got up, his voice completely neutral, but his eyes pleading and desperate. He started to close the distance, but she got away, walking towards the door without breaking eye contact.

“You were so on board with this, Lucifer!”

The tears swelled in her eyes. Hot tears breaking her a little more, fuelling her anger. 

“Do you really think I’m not aware of what she’s doing? We share a room, you morons! I've lived with her more than I’ve ever lived with you!” 

There was silence again, four of them looking at her with visible pain and the other three leaning against each other.

Fuck it then.

“It’s all good and awesome when you’re the ones in favor, but when I’m the one having fun, suddenly NES has to go away?! Do you hear yourselves?! I’m so done with you thinking I owe you anything at all, let alone my fucking soul! Half of our pacts weren't even born out of friendship, so hear me out and hear me well! Get your heads out of your asses and for once in your life: LEAVE ME ALONE!”

MC walked away, closing the door at full force and leaving them behind in more ways than one.

How could they ever get over this?

.

.

.

Taglist: : @stfuchaase @k1-an @meggs-wonderland @kkeromenoo @va109 @marvelous-maniac @cruzerforce4256 @blarsh @marathedemonoverlord @junni-berry @arylleb @b-a-m-2006 @jonielunar @piercedddriver @cosmidaydreaming

[naffeclipse]

This won’t leave my head since I saw that one YN and Orca Eclipse “WE HAVE A KID?” Post, how would Orca man react to picking up that YN was pregnant already? Like at first it wasn’t obvious but over the coming months in the attic it becomes more apparent and he puts two and two together

OH! He would pick up on Y/N being pregnant pretty quickly between his stalking and grabbiness. Her thick layers would hide the small baby bump at their first encounter but Eclipse doesn't leave her untouched for long. He'd notice how Y/N is protective of her belly when he first gets close to her. He would want to confirm his suspicions by grabbing her and touching her stomach over her layers and confirming for himself. He's thrilled by this (and pays no mind to any father that isn't him—thankfully Y/N would be raising the baby on her own).

Y/N would be very anxious about being in such a vulnerable state around the siren. Eclipse, however, is elated and already doing everything he can think of to provide for Y/N. He'd especially be pushy about bringing her food, constantly killing everything and anything to see if she would eat it. The instinct to provide for his future mate is so strong for Eclipse. She needs to eat! He wants to take care of her and her baby!

Y/N manages to keep him at bay with excuses, and Eclipse won't push it (even though he really wants to) due to her pregnancy. He's very doting and protective. He's also mindful around her. He wouldn't grab her randomly nor surprise her, but make his presence known and carefully draw her closer so he could nuzzle against her face. Y/N relaxes eventually around the siren because it's clear that he's endeared by her baby bump (and herself, evidently), but it's still interesting to hear a siren talk about how he's going to take care of her and her child.

[obey-me-disaster]

What do you think would happen if MC respawns at a different location after the lesson 16 death? Like purgatory hall then MC somehow convinces Simeon, Luke, Solomon, Diavolo and Barbatos to hide their resurrection from the brothers. MC stays at purgatory hall and takes online classes for the rest of the exchange program.

The whole time the brothers think MC is permanently dead but what if MC slips up and accidentally likes a selfie by Asmo on devilgram would that raise any suspicion? How would the brothers react to MC being alive the whole time?

Please, MC liking selfies while pretending to be dead is so fucking funny like: 'I need to keep a low profile...anyway let me appreciate one of Asmo's photos on devilgram, where all the demon bros could see'

Warning: mentions of death

Demon brothers x gn!MC headcanons

MC hides the fact that they are alive

They don't know exactly what happened after Belphegor got them. All they could remember was pain, a voice talking into their head and then complete darkness. When they woke up they were in the Purgatory Hall with Simeon, Solomon and Luke surrounding them.

While not being able to remember the last moments before blacking out, MC was smart enough to put two and two together and realize what happened. Belphegor killed them. After everything they have done for him, he took their life away without hesitating.

When Solomon and Simeon started to question them, MC decided to keep the truth away. They made up an excuse about needing to hide somewhere, and the two angels and the sorcerer were all to happy to let MC stay with them.

Their plan was to stay hidden until the exchange program would end, but of course old habits die hard, so without thinking too much they liked one of Asmo's posts. That's when all the demon brothers found out and all hell broke loose.

Lucifer

He would be furious at MC for hiding themself, tho he can't blame them, at the Purgatory trio, Diavolo and Barbatos for helping them keep the secret but most importantly, he would be upset with himself.

He would fly straight to the purgatory hall and demand some explanation. Why did they hide, why couldn't they talk with him. He keep thinking of the fact that if MC didn't slip and post that selfie, he would have never found out they were alive.

A part of himself greatly blames himself because if he would have put more effort in keeping them out of the attic, none of this would have happened, hell, if he was a good brother from the start everything would have been ok.

On the outside he seems angry but on the inside he is full of mixed emotions: happiness because they're alive, sadness because MC hid this from him, anger at the others for hiding this from him. He doesn't even want to think about the fact that if Asmo didn't see their like, that he would have never been reunited with them.

He will have a long talk with MC, whatever they want to or not.

Mammon

THIS MAN IS CRUSHED. He thought MC has died. He held their 'corpse' in his arms. He has been a shadow of who he was all of this time only to find out that MC has been chilling in the Purgatory Hall??

He might not visit them for a while. He is way too conflicted. He is in denial about the fact that they hid this secret away from him. He was their first man, you two weren't supposed to hold this kind of secrets from one another.

He would probably go on about: "I am not friends with any humans that would lie to me like that, I don't know anyone like that!" flashbacks to season 1 of the OG obey me

He has been blaming himself for not being able to protect them this whole time. He probably had nightmares about their death.

Once he sees them he will have to hold himself back from rushing to them and embracing them. He still wants to put up a front, but when the front finally cracks and hugs them, he will be all to relieved to feel them be alive once again in his arms.

Leviathan

His self hatred went through the roof. He would keep blaming himself for not doing anything. He didn't get to hold them in their dying moments, all he could do is watch. He felt like he truly lost the only person that could fully understand him.

When he found out they were alive he nearly rushed to the Purgatory Hall but stopped himself. If MC hid themself from him that means they don't want to see him right? They are disappointed in him for letting them die.

He spirals down so bad other brothers had to snap him out of it. He would probably send them messages or call them while crying. He didn't feel quite ready to face them yet.

He probably will watch anime/play games from a distance with them for a while. He wants to go see them so badly but fears they would be disappointed in him.

After a while he would probably hype himself with some 'The lord of shadows would never leave his Henry behind'.

Satan

He throws a little temper tantrum that destroys multiple rooms in the House of Lamentation. There are way too many emotions for him to deal with it at the same time to the point he feels like exploding.

He has felt useless ever since their 'death'. He could see the condition MC was in, he could see that they had no way to live, he could see all the injuries and knew how much they hurt but even with all of that, he could not think of a way to save them. All the learning and reading was for nothing in that moment.

He probably knew that MC had good reasons to remain 'dead' but it didn't mean he was not hurt. If it wasn't for them liking Asmo's post by accident they would have went back to the human world, never to be seen again.

Another one that waits a little bit, but that's because he wants to be as calm as possible, they had to deal with an angry demon, he is sure they don't want to deal with another.

Once he finally decides to see them, he takes them on a walk to talk things through. Only if they want to of course

During their walk he will insist of having a detailed talk about how both of them they were feeling, there was no more wrath he could feel at the moment

Asmodeus

The moment he saw MC liking his post he went wild. He probably started to text them like crazy. If they didn't respond he would call Solomon, Simeon, Barbatos, anyone he could think of.

He ran straight to his brothers to tell them about the fact that MC was alive and was probably one of the firsts that went to see them.

Once he found out they were alive it was like something awakened inside of him and he felt all the longing he held towards MC come back in full force.

After telling his brothers he is going to the Purgatory Hall to see MC and scream at Solomon for hiding something so big from him.

He 100% cries to MC about missing them and does not care his make up will be ruined.

Since his brothers need more time to calm down, he will take his sweet time catching up with MC and checking in on how they are doing if they will let him

Beelzebub

Another one with a lot of guilt. He couldn't protect Lilith from death, he couldn't protect Belphie from his hatred and he couldn't protect MC either.

He is hurt by the fact that they've decided to hide from everyone at the House of Lamentation but he can't hold it against them

One of the first to go see them. He wants to see with his own eyes that they are truly alive and well, or as well as they could be after dying

Would try to hug them but stops himself thinking it would be a bad idea. The last time a demon has offered MC a hug they got unalived. If MC does accept his hug, they will be carried around for a while since Beel would refuse to let them out of his grasp

He had been guilt-ridden since their 'death'. His eating habits have been all over the place. From not being able to eat to going on rampages due to painful emptiness in his stomach. Just seeing MC being alive made Beel's hunger go back to its normal self.

Belphegor

Because not only did the bros think MC was dead for good but because MC was not there to repair his relationship with his brothers, Belphegor is pretty much secluded from his brothers.

Barbatos probably still told him about the whole Lilith thing. He had to deal with the fact that not only was his hate misplaced for centuries but also with the fact that he killed someone he really got attached with, someone his brothers got attached with.

He had no one to blame but himself this time, had no one to help him manage all of these feelings, he pretty much is on his own. Sure, his brothers are still there but their relationship is strained as fuck.

When he finds out MC is actually alive he does see it as his chance to make it better but he doesn't go to see them. Not straight away at least. He is smart, he knows why they probably wanted to remain 'dead'. He is the reason for that.

He will give them time, he will let his brothers have their turn first, even if he doesn't like it, because he knows that's the least he could do for all of them. He only wishes he was not so blinded by anger and resentment, especially since it was so misplaced.

[sirenologyyy]

MODERN ATWOW BAND HEADCANONS !

✹ summary : in which i'm slowly crawling back to my avatar hyperfixation and i decided to make a band au!except I'm right (or not take this with a grain of salt hehe) and I frl can't see them playing any other roles

✹ author's note : let this not flop in eywa we pray 🙏 and yes, Daisy Jones and the Six is my favorite book, how did you guess?

✹ warnings : mentions of bleeding, scabs, swearing obv

It all started one balmy afternoon when Lo'ak and Spider were blowing off their biochemistry homework lying down on the floor staring at the cieling fan undeviatingly oscillate above them. Then, Lo'ak suddenly sits up from his spot causing Spider to look at him.

"What's up?" Asked Spider.

Lo'ak looks at him, a newfound determination in his wide eyes. "Dude, what if we start a band."

Spider frowns. "A band?"

"No, but hear me out for a second." says Lo'ak bristling in his spot as Spider sits up.

Although wary, Spider hums. "Alright."

"Think about it, school's almost over, we barely know anybody in this town, are we seriously gunna hangout in the beach all summer trying to make friends?"

Spider chuckles. "I think I'm missing the point where that's a bad idea."

"Spider, come on bro- look at us, we're losers alright? We're practically throwaway fish to the kids at school- but if we start a band, who knows how many people'll wanna be a part of it, we'll score a couple of life long friends AND it'll be our one solid excuse not to be at home" Lo'ak's riposte was proving to make sense, with a toothy smile to cap it off, but of course Spider- considering he was two years Lo'ak's senior had to pop his bubble with the pragmatic pin of reality.

"I don't know dude, it sounds kinda lame." Spider replies hesitantly, propping himself up by his elbows. "We've been trying to start a band since 7th grade, we always end up calling it quits on the 3rd week."

"This time it'll be different."

Spider scoffs. "Uh-huh? How "

Lo'ak nudges his right shoulder upwards. "We'll ask Neteyam to help."

Spider shoots him yet another look. "If he doesn't want to help?"

"We make do," Lo'ak shrugs. "What's wrong with a two man band?"

"Almost everything." Spider snorts.

★ lo'ak ──────── electric guitar

when they used to live back in high camp, he found an old silvertone in their attic that used to belong to jake during his marine days along with scores of 70's rock bands' songs on yellowing paper fraying at the edges and folds.

He spent 3 months learning a song with 4 chords by ear and performed it at the school talent show

When he got into 6th grade he did not only beg, for an electric guitar he GROVELED. He suddenly wanted to do all the chores in the house, he suddenly got C's instead of D's in tests, it was terrifying because who the hell WAS this and what did they do to the real Lo'ak???

Jake and Neytiri didn't give him one until he was 13. Jake just picked him up from school one day and all of a sudden just asked: you wanna get that electric guitar?

LO'AK WAS OVER THE GODDAMN MOON.

got a classic red stratocaster.

The first song he ever learned to play on the guitar was buddy holly by weezer...

Come on you guys what were you expecting

likes picking at his finger scabs and does it until neteyam or tsireya tells him off.

has multiple guitar picks but always uses this specific one he made into a necklace and wears it everywhere.

THEN PROCEEDS TO LOSE SAID GUITAR PICKS

tuk keeps hiding them around the house waiting for lo'ak to lose his mind.

he can play any song by ear, just watch.

plays around with riffs more often than not.

★ neteyam ──────── back up vocalist / lyricist

never even wanted to join the band but was bullied into joining (kiri joined when he said he wouldn't just to spite him)

has perfect pitch (are we surprised though)

YOU'D SNEEZE AND BITCH ASS CAN FIGURE OUT WHAT NOTE IT'S AT.

uses it to nitpick Lo'ak when he's straying from the original pitch.

lo'ak will then threaten to cave his face in with his capo.

his favorite artists are frank ocean and kendrick lamar.

no one in his entire school woulda guessed he could sing. Nobody.

was made to sing in family events... (iykyk)

loves musicals. his favorite's Hamilton...

Jake and Neytiri took him to see Hamilton once in New York when he was 11, he's never been the same since.

HAS MAJOR FUCKING STAGE FRIGHT I CANNOT STRESS THIS ENOUGH. HE WILL NOT GO ON STAGE UNTIL YOU SMACK HIM IN THE HEAD SO HARD HIS BRAIN RESETS AND SUDDENLY HAS THE BALLS TO FACE THE AUDIENCE.

Once he's out there though he totally changes, he gets more confident, when he's really feeling it then his braids start flying everywhere... it's becoming an issue really, he might take someone's eye out with how solid his hair beads are...

hurled his guts out one time before they had to perform at the end of year school fair.

★ kiri ──────── pianist

there are always four types of gays. English Teacher Gays, Art Teacher Gays, History Teacher Gays, and Music Teacher Gays.

Kiri was definitely the last one.

lo'ak got her a shirt that says "key master" with her face horribly photoshopped onto the keys of a piano.

she burned it the night she got it.

til this day lo'ak never knew what happened to it.

Suki Waterhouse as Karen Sirko in the DJATS live action? Brain chemistry = altered

Stevie Nick's and Lindsey Buckingham's performance of Silver Spring in Fleetwood Mac's Reunion concern in 1997? = Roman Empire.

was in the school choir and would play the piano in their choir director's stead.

has been playing the piano for 9 years but always gets confused when asked to play a flat or a sharp (it takes her 4 tries to figure out where C minor is)

her favorite piece to play is over the waves by juventino rosas.

when she wants to show jake a new piece she's been working on, by the first minute he's out like a fucking light. SHE'S JUST THAT GOOD.

also when she wants to play a piece with too many chords she never wanted to play it in the first place.

once she messes up she's definitely one of those people who spams the keys.

one time when she was playing a piece her fingers cramped mid-song and she freaked out.

★ spider ──────── drums

his dad's military friends taught him how to play the drums.

lo'ak dared him he couldn't do a drumroll for an hour.

spider did it in two and a half but stopped cuz he got hungry LMAO.

impresses kiri with various drumstick spins, it dosen't impress her.

practically worshipped that one vine of those two kids.

was definitely one of those kids that played with overturned pots and pans and pretended it was a drum set (it annoyed the hell outta norm)

once lost his drum sticks and used chopsticks (ps. they weren't the same)

scribbled their band logo on his bass drum and was very proud of it.

INSISTED they would call themselves "the seven skxawngs"

nobody listened to him.

when they held auditions for their drummer he went "You guys know I can play the drums right?"

has never watched whiplash.

uploads drum covers on his tiktok account with 70 followers.

makes dumb jokes if the others can't figure out a certain chord or note he'd go "guys maybe it's at H!"

the most chillest person in the band though frl.

somehow always manages to pull??? The amount of game this man has solely just because he's the drummer is wild.

they once performed at an event with 50 people and Spider was wearing addidas slides the entire time and nobody noticed.

★ tsireya ──────── main vocals/lyricist

When I tell you this kid can SING SHE CAN SING.

frl the real life ariel I swear evrrytime she opens her mouth everyone's wishing on her downfall because she's such a talented singer, her vibratro is so measured, her runs are so clean, she's just so UGHHHH.

is such a theatre kid oh Lord.

was made to sing at family events too (it's practically a canon event atp guys.)

has a special journal where she writes her song lyrics that she takes with her everywhere (give her 5 minutes and she can write a song with just her hand as paper and eyeliner as a pen.)

joined in singing competitions when she was a kid and when she was 10 joined a televised singing competition and managed to make it to the semi-finals.

it's why she's the lead singer of the band anyway.

she always has pearls threaded into her hair every time they perform and it's been her signature look ever since.

her voice is fucking angelic ya'll istg.

is a soprano. enough said.

is amazing at reading sheet music.

she and neteyam wrote 3 original songs that the band performs everytime they get a gig.

aside from singing she can play piano and violin too.

she's a fucking wordsmith too like she's so eloquent and knows all these big words and she's good at expressing her pent up emotions through songwriting.

the literal it girl. Everyone in their band gained more popularity ever since they opened for a popular band from L.A. but everyone in their high-school knows her name. Everyone.

her vocal control is amazing.

she really knows how to liven up a crowd.

★ aonung ──────── rhythm guitar

has been playing guitar since he was 7.

took up guitaring because his dad introduced him and tsireya to playing instruments at a young age.

collects guitar straps.

neteyam's always on his ass about if what he's playing sounds right or not (50% of the time he's not)

it isn't practice without neteyam and aonung almost throwing hands at least thrice.

almost always smokes while practicing.

oddly enough only has one guitar pick and he hasn't lost it yet unlike lo'ak who buys new guitar picks every other month.

obsessed with black nailpolish, you won't see him go on stage without black nails istg.

he didn't even audition for the band. He was just always there at the Sully residence to pick Tsireya up from practice until one day Tsireya told him to come inside the house, when he did he finds out they needed someone for rhythm guitar and that Tsireya let it slip that Aonung knew how to play.

he's been a part of the band ever since.

he's just incredibly good with his fingers, enough said.

after the first time they performed their first gig at some girl's house party, he, rotxo, and lo'ak got high on the rooftop of Aonung's house (yk until Lo'ak slipped and started dangling from the gutters and fell into the pool)

his outfits always eat every time they perform.

james hetfield the goat.

always experimenting with new riffs and runs and adds them to the songs mid-performance and without any warning (just to piss neteyam off)

★ rotxo ──────── bass guitar

the glue and heart of the band frl.

the sweetest basist you'll ever meet.

his family actually owns a popular guitar shop in Awa'atlu, he first started playing the guitar at the ripe age of 5.

Bro is a prodigy but dosen't want to admit it.

aonung bought his first guitar at rotxo's family's shop, they hit it off ever since.

Always brings his baked goods to practices (then kiri devours the entire tray when you aren't looking)

actually fucked up his audition for the band but then Lo'ak found him sobbing in a janitors closet and gave him a second shot at an audition with just Lo'ak and Spider and he was able to redeem himself.

(really only auditioned cuz he played bass, they were finding a bassist, and not because kiri sully was their pianist)

is an introvert but he's so fucking funny that you wouldn't suspect it.

can perform riffs in his sleep (no he actually does though it freaks aonung out when he spends the night in his place.)

kiri made him a resin guitar pick with fragments of coral from the beach when they had their first date.

has a "maturing is realizing bass is the superior instrument" tshirt.

one time wore finger condoms so his scabs wouldn't re-open and bleed all over his guitar 😔

loves playing deftones on the bass.

has chronic "guitar face"

[bubblegum-cherry-lips]

decorations ✨

summary: the boys love all of you, even when you go a bit crazy over the holiday decorations

prompt: day 2 - decorating (prompts from this post)

pairing: poly marauders x (gender neutral) reader

cw: none

word count: 661

•

“No, you need to move i- Rem, babe, it’s not supposed to go there.”

“But look how pretty it looks here.”

“Remus, I think you should do as Y/N says before you end up murdered.”

Sirius mumbles, in between one handful of popcorns and the other, entirely unbothered by the chaos going on around him, or the glare he keeps receiving from Remus. James keeps his mouth shut and tries to hide the grin behind the second box of decorations he had brought from the attic, but you still notice it and give him a small smile when he winks at you. 

The bitter taste on your tongue seems to linger, though, and you have to remind yourself to tone down the controlling tendencies, when it comes to house decorations. You know that you can be too much for people sometimes, especially with the things that excite you - but that’s an issue you need to work on yourself, and the boys don’t deserve to be on the receiving end of it. 

“It looks great there Rem, you’re right.” You can’t help but laugh at his smug face, and it makes it a little bit easier to let it go, and instead concentrate on finishing  your own task - which is pulling out all the festive mugs and glasses, and replacing the old, plain ones. 

You’re not left alone for too long, however.

“You know I can move them where you want them, right?” Sweet Remus, with his big heart and the infallible power to know when one of his lovers is sad, hugs you around your waist and rests his chin on the space between your neck and shoulder, mindful of the mugs you’re currently holding in your hands. He doesn’t push you to speak - it’s something he never does, no matter what. His presence is always calming, always patient, waiting for you to come for him when you’re ready. And because of that, you’re finding it easier to be completely honest with him.

“I know, but it really does look good there. I was just being silly.”

“Whatever is worrying you is never silly.”

That’s something you’re trying to believe in, but it doesn’t come to you that easy. 

“I just want the place to look homey. Perfect.”

“And it does. Look how perfect you’ve made it.”

When he spins you around, you allow it, and you get to see the entire living room from your spot by the kitchen counter. The door and window frames are surrounded by fairy lights, bathing the entire room in that soft, gentle glow. It makes the moon and the stars outside even more beautiful, and the way Sirius and James look under that light, as they cuddle on the couch, is breathtaking. 

“It does look good, doesn’t it?”

“It looks great. Right boys?"

“Yep. Not that we expected anything else, love.” The bowl of popcorn is left abandoned on the coffee table, Sirius’ next task being to wrap himself around James until the other man can barely breathe. Judging by the redness of James’ cheeks, he won’t survive for too long underneath all those blankets. 

Remus reads your mind, and grabs your hand to drag you to the couch, where James opens his arms and you snuggle into them, blowing a kiss in Sirius’ direction when he starts pouting. It doesn’t last for too long because Remus pulls Sirius into his lap and the other man melts, the movie they’ve played an hour ago for the background noise still softly playing. 

“I’m sorry for being a handful, and too much.” You whisper the apology, but you know they still hear it - James’ hands tighten around you, and Sirius’ hand finds your knee as Remus opens his mouth to speak. 

“You are not a handful, and you are not too much. You’re just perfect for us.” 

And snuggled like that, you realize that you have finally found a place where you truly belong. 

[decaying-church]

Slashers: First Time Headcanons

Slashers x male!reader

Requested by anonymous: “Billy lenz, Stu Macher, Billy loomis (+whoeer else you want) first time with m!reader?????No pressure thank you in advance <33”

Summary: Slashers firsts time with the reader.

(A/n: I’m sick and it’s sucks :))

Warning: smut, overstimulation, cumming untouched, dacryphilia, cumming dry.

Characters (in order of appearance): Billy Lenz, Stu Macher, Billy Loomis, Brahms Heelshire, Herbert West.

Billy, in spite of his vulgar and lewd words, was a virgin. There’s not many opportunities for sex when you’ve been hiding in a attic for your entire life. Despite his lack of experience he can go for hours. Probably due to how much he jerks off- you were almost surprised at how long he held out- round after round, cumming on his own chest over and over again until he physically couldn’t anymore. Once he finally came dry, you knew it was time to stop, even though he wanted to keep going. He felt the effects of it the next morning. Feeling a bit lightheaded whenever he stood on his overly sore legs, whimpering whenever he sat down. He clung to you for a few days after, for safety reasons.

With Stu, it’s definitely not his first time having sex. Man’s a hoe. He’s been with many people, he’s topped and bottomed, he’s done it with complete strangers. Stu has been around the block, okay. But it was different with you, because you were actually dating and he actually loved you. That being said, he nearly lost his mind the first time you fucked. He’s been with many people, but none had him biting down on his pillow, cumming untouched with tears running down his face the way you did. Despite being a sobbing, overstimulated mess, he constantly begged for more. When you're done and you’re taking care of him afterwards he’s going to go be a little out of it, a dopey smile on his face as you tried to get him to drink some water.

Another hoe, just like his best friend, Billy has been with many people, but before you he's only ever topped, because he's a stubborn bastard who'll never admit what he wants. And what he wants is to be topped. Even if it takes many, many weeks for him to admit that. When he finally does, he's a natural. Truly and honestly. From his experience as a top, he knows which positions will feel good for you and even better for him. Definitely, the type to shoo you away after. He does want to be comforted and held but he won't let you do it because he's a fucking masochist.

A surprise to no one, Brahms is a virgin. Again, there aren’t many opportunities for sex when living in the walls of your parents house. He’s nervous, but his excitement overrides it. I’ve said this before, he’s touch starved, overly sensitive, and quite loud. All things that became obvious during his first time. His thighs twitched and tried to slam shut around your waist, clawing at your back as he let out a long moan. You’d hardly even done anything yet, just barely pushing inside him and he was already panting and whimpering. He doesn’t really know what sex is supposed to feel like so he keeps asking you to try different paces and positions with him. He ended up cumming before you, and he wanted to hold out until you finished but it quickly became too much and he had to tap out. He felt a little guilty about it but you reassured him that it was okay, he was able to enjoy that post-sex feeling a little more after that.

Herbert isn’t a virgin. He’s had sex before, but only as a form of manipulation. It’s fucked up but honestly you found it kinda cute. He’s never had sex for pleasures sake, so you decided to give him as much pleasure as he could handle. It happened in his lab, bent over the only clear surface. In a weird way, he's kinda used to sex. Well, normal, primarily straight, 10-20 minute quickies. So going into having sex with you he expected it to be just as dissmisable as the other times had been. But it wasn't, it was passionate, and loving, and probably rougher than it should have been. But above all else it was good. Something Herbert hadn't thought about sex…ever. In the end he's laying on the table, trying to think of something slick to say, but nothing comes to mind. The two of you do eventually have to sneak upstairs, but not before Dan makes a comment from his room about the noise.

Reblogs>likes

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

The biggest, brightest, gaudiest display in all of Indiana

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 5

Prompt: domestic fluff

Rated: G

CW: one slight mention of PTSD

Tags: Post Vecna; everybody lives; pining; Steve Harrington has a crush on Eddie Munson; Christmas

It's starting to snow by the time Steve gets home, white flakes floating in the headlights of the beemer like balls of cotton. It crunches under his feet as he sloshes towards the front door. 

Even with Christmas more than two weeks away, they've been swamped with customers lately, the cold wind and unending snowfalls luring people inside. Now, away from the buzz, the world seems quiet. Peaceful, covered under its white blanket. 

Except Steve still hasn't learned to trust that peace. Even after more than a year, even with El assuring them time and again that it's over, they've won, … he still flinches at sounds in the night, looks for escape routes and things to fashion into weapons when entering a room. He isn't sure he'll ever stop.

He shakes his head to chase away the thoughts as he scales the steps to the front porch. He isn’t sure where they're coming from. Probably a combination of stress and the looming depression that always hangs over him at Christmas time, when all of his friends are with their families and he's left in this big, empty house, alone. He’ll take a shower, heat a microwave meal, and see what's on TV, that will-

The front door is unlocked. 

He's certain he turned the key not once, but twice before he left. 

Steve slides into the dark entrance hall on silent feet. He passes the umbrella stand, eyes scanning his surroundings, and his hand finds the hilt of the nail bat. There's a creak from overhead, like feet on floorboards. 

The attic. 

The hatch is gaping open as he creeps upstairs, the foldout ladder down. 

He holds his breath and inches his way upwards, rung by rung, bat clutched in one white-knuckled hand. 

"Hello, Steven," growls a voice, and he abruptly comes face-to-face with a grimace full of too-large teeth. 

Steve yelps, slips on the ladder, and goes sprawling on his ass. The nail bat rolls off into the shadows. 

"Oh, shit!" Another face appears behind the monster. One haloed in a mane of dark curls and crowned by a fuzzy Santa hat. "You okay, man?" 

"Fuck," Steve curses, clambering to his feet and rubbing at his sore butt. "Eddie? What are you doing up there?" 

Eddie rolls his eyes and flashes him a toothy grin. It tugs at the scar on his jaw, the one he claims looks totally metal but hides under his hair most of the time. The one that Steve wants to map with his lips.

"Picking up that drill Wayne wanted to borrow. Told you I'd swing by after my shift at the garage." 

Steve settles down on the dusty floorboards and frowns. "Wasn't that at noon or something?" 

Like he doesn’t know. Like he hasn't memorized all of Eddie’s shifts. Only stopped dropping him off and picking him up every day because Eddie told him to stop. No satanic panic mobs left, no need for a bodyguard.

Eddie cocks his head in confusion and glances at his watch. "Why, what time is i- … whoops. Guess I got side-tracked." 

He shakes the monster- which, upon closer inspection, turns out to be a life-sized nutcracker. Its red-cheeked, too-wide smile mocks him and Steve just barely manages to not flip it off. 

Instead, he looks over the cardboard boxes around Eddie, all in various states of unpacked-ness. String lights coiled in thick tangles, dusty elves and reindeer and sugar canes. 

"Dude," Eddie says. He's pulled several colorful baubles from somewhere and is looping the strings over his ears. It looks ridiculous. It looks adorable.  "You never told me you're hiding Santa's village up here." 

"Didn’t even know we still had this," Steve mumbles, pulling the nearest box closer. It contains the huge neon letters spelling MERRY XMAS. "It's been forever since we got them out. Way before-"

He trails off. The words hang unspoken in the stale air. 

"I always wanted this, y’know?" Eddie says. His fingers are tracing Rudolph's shiny nose. "The whole shebang with the lights and the decorations and the music. Only so much you can do at the trailer." 

Steve hums vaguely, watches the way Eddie’s eyes crinkle, how the tip of the Santa hat flops into his face, and represses the urge to brush it back, trace those dimples with the pads of his thumbs. 

Eddie is looking at him with big, expectant cow eyes. 

"Huh?" 

"I said," Eddie repeats, sways into his space. "We should totally do it. Get all this stuff out. The biggest, brightest, gaudiest display in all of Indiana." 

Steve bites back a laugh, ignores how his stomach flutters at Eddie’s huge, excited grin. 

"I dunno. Sounds like a lot of work for just me." 

"Yeah, about that …" Eddie’s smile dims and his gaze drops. "I've been meaning to ask …" 

He starts to pick at his cuticles, so Steve habitually reaches for one of his hands to stop him. 

"Ask what?" 

Eddie sucks in a breath, and the next words rush out on the exhale, all at once. 

"So Wayne sort of took the holiday shifts because a guy got sick, so it'll just be me, and I thought …since you'll also be … alone, y'know, maybe we could …" 

"Eds," Steve says. The flutter in his stomach is turning into a hurricane. "Are you asking if I wanna spend Christmas together?" 

"What? Nah!" Eddie winks at him. "As if you'd deny me, please! I'm asking if we can get your ridiculous light show out." 

Steve snorts a laugh, chest warm and tingly and bright. "What, all of it?" 

"Hell yes, all of it," Eddie throws his head back and cackles, almost losing the hat. "It's gonna be our year, big boy!" 

They stay up in the attic for a long time, bickering and joking and unpacking boxes upon boxes of sparkly decor. Outside, the snow continues to fall. 

Steve hopes they'll get a white Christmas. 

Part 2

All of my holiday drabbles

[hunterbunter3000]

I'm thinking of sweetheart being the mother of task force 141 when laswell isn't there like in the middle of the night when sweetheart is sleeping and just wakes up when she hears the door creaking and looks at the door and sees one of the boys looking like they were crying and they ask if they could cuddle with then because they had a nightmare and sweetheart just coos at them pats the empty spot so they can lay on and sweetheart spoons them making on of the boys feel safe and falls asleep immediately while sweetheart is slowly scratching their head

And then sweetheart falls asleep and when she wakes up of the cod boys are in her room, asleep and she just laughs and gets out of bed and go make some breakfast and coffee or tea for them

Like AHHODHDHEBR like if ghost was the one he would have slight tears in his eyes or konig I know damn well he would be holding a tiger teddy-

Fucking sobbing on the floor for this shit

I AM TOOOOO WTF THIS IS SO ADORABLE 😭😭😭 König holding a tiger teddy that he's had ever since he was a kid is making me ferallLLLLLLAAHHHH

LIKE MY MATERNAL INSTINCTS ARE JUST KICKING INNNNN

And I'm sorry- all I saw was König and tiger stuffy and now this whole thing is just about him AHAHANA

Brown Palace and Grey Oceans

--

(Help this got so long-- it always starts off funny and then i try to be an actual writer smh YOU'LL SEE WHAT I MEAN)

(I honestly don't know what König looks like... even the wiki lore isn't saying anything so I kinda just made him up myself 😅 like how everyone does LOL)

Süße Torte = Sweet Pie

Cw.: FLUFF FLUFF FLUFFY FLUFF

Word count: long. (IDK HOW TO DO A WORD COUNT)

Yk damn WELL König would open her door as quietly as possible and tip toe to her. He would second guess waking her up cause she looks so damn peaceful sleeping. Her eyelashes laying gently on her soft cheeks, the moonlight shining on her brown skin, making her look ethereal. But he needs comfort right now. The nightmare he had, he can't deal with that by himself.

So he would gently shake Sweetheart's shoulder. And she would SO wake up like a parent would: gasping for air, wide eyed and jerking back. He would step back and apologize. He thinks this was a bad idea but Sweetheart stops him.

Sweetheart, wiping her eyes and sleep in her voice: What's wrong hun?

König, holding his tiger to his side: Uhm... I had a bad... very bad dream.

He breathes in deep, tears welling in his eyes.

König, voice shaking: Can I please sleep with you...?

Sweetheart could hear her heart break. Seeing such a unit of a man be dwindled down to this... (I WANNA HUG HIM)

Her eyebrows knit together, sad that he feels this way. She scoots over and pats her bed. König sniffs, hand rubbing his nose under his home hood. (The brown embroidered hood Sweetheart made him for the base)

He squeezes in there, both of them getting situated in her already small bed. Sweetheart has most of the blanket, but König doesn't care. As long as he's with someone. (Sweetheart specifically)

He turns to her body, face now in her bosom. His eyes go wide, and he looks up at her. She smiles warmly at him. Her eyes go to the little tiger teddy he's holding in his hands. She coos at him.

Sweetheart: How long have you had that?

König feels embarrassed. He kinda forgot he even brought it with him, as it's his comfort companion. (His grandma found it in the attic and sent it to him)

He curses as he hides it behind his back, but Sweetheart grabs his arm. She holds the stuffed tiger, a cute tiny smile and round ears with stripes loosely sewn on the fading base. A big black button for the eye, but the other one is missing, it's just an opening. It's missing a tail, and some tears are on the body. A very old stuffed animal, but Sweetheart can tell it's loved.

Sweetheart: it's so cute... what's the name?

She's not judging him. A grown man, standing at a whopping 6'10, owns an old tiger stuffed animal that he has had ever since he was a child. And she's not judging him. Not laughing in his face and kicking him out. She's asking what his name is, with curiosity in her eyes. How is she real?

König, whispering: ....Hobbes.

Sweetheart: Pardon?

König, speaking a bit louder: His name is-- is Hobbes.

Sweetheart, gasps: Like from Calvin and Hobbes?

König, perks up: You know of those comics?

Sweetheart, giggling: Hell yeah! I used to read them constantly when I was younger. I still have them actually at my home! You could read some if you want when I go back.

König, getting excited and feeling better: I would love that, Süße Torte. Thank you.

Sweetheart, smiling and giving Hobbes back to him: No problem. Are you feeling tired?

He nods his head, about to take off his hood but stops himself. He looks at Sweetheart, eyes asking 'Should I take this off? Will you be uncomfortable?' She looks back him. 'The real question is, will You be uncomfortable if you take it off?'

König thinks on this. He looks back at her brown eyes. Her soft, dark eyes. Eyes that suck him every time he looks at them, entering the smoky quartz palace he would stay in forever. Eyes that always make him feel safe, wrapping him in the darkest color of silk. Eyes that hold many stories and love. Sensual, trustworthy eyes. He can trust her.

König: I trust you.

He takes it off and places it on the floor, face bare and open to the world. He could have sworn Sweetheart's eyes sparkled with actual stars when they got wide. His messy, auburn brown hair is swept back. Thick, soft angeled eyebrows nervously twitch under the hard stare from the woman.

And his eyes, oh, his round, gentle eyes. The ones that light up and shine when she looks at them. The grayish green tint reminded her of clear ocean water, wanting to swim in them forever. Eyes that hold many stories and many secrets. Beautiful eyes. He's beautiful to her.

With his crooked and scarred nose, he has broken many times over the years. Pink downturned lips, curtained over with a thin brown beard on a sharp jaw.

König gulps, eyes still focused on hers. They're staring into each other's color, too far gone to come back to reality. Sweetheart breaks it after what it felt like hours. She starts to laugh quietly, making König confused and a bit self-conscious. She looks back up at him.

Sweetheart, scoffing in disbelief: Who would've thought you were so pretty under those hoods...

He can't breathe.

Sweetheart, still shocked: I mean I never would've guessed. You're... wow.

She places her hand on his sharp cheek. Skin on skin. Warmth. He can feel it. Finally.

Sweetheart: You're really beautiful, Y'know that König?

He can't-- this- it's too much. Overwhelming. Her warm hand, the soft awe look in her eye, her scent, her words, her eyes-- it's too much.

He dips into her neck, hiding his face as his hands wrap around her.

König, beet red: Can we please just- go to sleep? My heart... my heart can't take much more of this.

Sweetheart giggles, wrapping her hands on his head.

Sweetheart: of course.

Her long nails scratch the nape of his neck, almost making König purr. He relaxes into her, molding his body against hers, as they finally give themselves to the night.

König woke up on an empty bed. The sunlight poked at his eyes, telling him to start his day. His hand feels the cozy sheets, where Sweetheart's supposed to be. Sweetheart. Where is she?

He rolls over but falls on the floor with a huge thud and a yelp, and her items shudder from his clumsiness. He grabs his hood as he gets up, stretching his sleepy body. How long was he asleep? It felt like a coma. But nonetheless, he feels extremely well rested, with Sweetheart in his arms and Hobbes-- wait a minute...

Where's Hobbes?

His heart rate picks up as he speeds walk out of her room. Are the others awake? Is she showing them? Making fun of him? No, no please no.

He gets out of his head when he Sweetheart in the living area alone, repairing Hobbes. She hums as she works with a smile, bonnet still on her head, wearing a big sweater and leggings with her legs crossed. She ticks up and sees König.

Sweetheart, waving at him: Good morning, baby! How'd ya sleep?

Baby?

Baby. She called him baby.

König stumbles back a bit. He shakes his head and clears his throat, an overwhelming feeling replacing the over-thinking.

König: yeah. I mean- fine! Good. Wonderful. I slept wonderfully. It was... I needed that. Thank you.

Sweetheart, chuckling: Of course! By the way, there's coffee and some eggs I made you in the kitchen. If you want it.

König, feeling his heart melt: Oh, thank you Süße Torte. I appreciate it.

She nods her head, continuing back to repairing Hobbes with her needle and thread. König relishes this feeling. The feeling of them being the only ones awake, the feeling of having breakfast made, the feeling of enjoying one's presence. It felt right. It felt domesticated. It felt...

Like they were together. In a relationship. Boyfriend and girlfriend. Husband and wife.

He shakes his head, almost spilling the sugar he was pouring for his coffee. He looks back at Sweetheart, still in her own world, being her. Being perfect.

Boyfriend and girlfriend. He scoffs, mixing his coffee. Please, that will never happen.

You're really beautiful, y'know that König?

He stops.

You're... wow.

His heart beating fast yet sinking at the same time. A small sick feeling in his stomach but butterflies in his chest. He collects his eggs and coffee and places it on the table before heading to Sweetheart on the couch. He sits across from her, watching her working hands, nimble and caring to Hobbes' tears. She sees him and smiles, showing her work.

Sweetheart: Look! I'm almost done sewing up his little scars. I also fixed his eye and tightened his ears and limbs! I need to wash and refill him, though.

She went on and on, rambling on what to do for Hobbes. König smiles. He hasn't done that in so long. He takes off his hood and places his hand on her knee. Their eyes meet, hers sparkling again from seeing his face.

König, sincerely smiling: I thank you for all that you have done for me. In just a short time... I feel like I found myself again.

Sweetheart beams. She's so glad she could help him out. Seeing König in that state last night makes her heart feel heavy, but none of that. He's happy. He's relaxed. He's grateful.

Her hand rests on top of his, and he moves his into hers, Sweetheart's now perched atop of his. The sun smiles on their eyes, their different colored crystals gleam bright.

Sweetheart: You're welcome.

They stayed like that, enjoying each other's company until they were sucked in.

Her Brown Palace and His Grey Oceans.

--

Lil Bonus.!

Sweetheart: Have you noticed that Hobbes doesn't have a tail?

König, snickering: Yes, I know. When I was little, Krueger would fight me over Hobbes. And one day, he pulled on it so hard that he ripped off the tail. I cried for days.

Sweetheart:

Sweetheart, getting up: Imma choke him out.

König: Sweetheart no that was years ago!

Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! Thank ya for reading ♡🙏

[irb-pascalito-99]

Text you Later

Pairing: Joel x f!reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Summary: Joel calls while at work for some lunch time shenanigans.

Warnings: phone sex, masturbation, pictures, dirty talk, praise, semi public sex

A/N: This is an excerpt from chapter twelve of my ongoing fic Always an Angel, Never a God to read more visit A03.

I try to ignore the buzz of my phone in my back pocket as I carry my end of the armoire. Bill huffs when I adjust the piece of furniture in my arms. Once we’re in position we put the legs down carefully.

I automatically pull out my phone to check my texts once my hands are free. A smile spreads across my face when I see it’s Joel again.

Joel: Meet up for lunch?

I bite my lip and look up at Bill who has continued to walk around the store adjusting other items. I lean my hip against the armoire as I type out my reply.

Me: Can’t :( leaving early today for Ellie’s appointment

Frank appears over my shoulder as I press send. I jump as he attempts to glance at the screen.

“Who you texting?” He asks with a sly smile. I shove the phone back in my pocket. I shrug in response and walk toward the front counter. “A man?”

“No Frank,” I lie. “It was just Maria asking if we could hang out tonight.”

The look on his face says he clearly doesn’t believe me. I ignore the next buzz from my phone, and the one that comes immediately after.

“Okay then…” Frank says. “Well I just wanted to see if you wanted this desk we just got in. I know you mentioned wanting to get something Ellie can use in that room.”

Ellie and I agreed to change our parents’ room to an art space the two of us can use. We’ve already packed all the stuff that remains there in boxes. Joel helped put them in the attic for safekeeping. Tomorrow everyone is coming over to help move the furniture out and paint the walls

I follow Frank to the back of the store where we keep the inventory before we put it out. While his back is turned to me I quickly pull out my phone to respond to Joel.

Joel: But I miss you…

Joel: Can we call at least?

Me: Give me like 15 minutes ;)

I throw my phone back in my pocket as Frank stops in front of an old writer’s desk. I run my hand along the cherry stained wood. It’s in great condition, probably worth a decent amount of money.

There’s a lot of drawers as well. I open a couple, they seem decently deep so Ellie could probably store a decent amount of supplies in it. She’s been getting really into sketching lately so a place where she could sit and draw would be really nice.

“How much do you want for it?” I ask.

“Don’t worry about it,” I turn to Frank as he waves his hand. I give him a frustrated look, while I appreciate his generosity it doesn’t feel right to constantly like Frank and Bill take care of me. I don’t want to be their charity case, but Frank won’t hear it. “Think of it as me supporting local artists. You can pay us back with a painting or have Ellie draw something.”

“I’m sure Bill would love whatever she draws of him,” I joke. Frank laughs. I run my hand over the wood again. It would really mean a lot for Ellie to have her own dedicated space in the room.

I let out an exasperated sigh. Frank grins as I concede. He pulls a SOLD sign out of his back pocket and puts it on top of the desk.

“I’ll have Bill load it up when we come over tomorrow.” He says.

He wraps an arm around me while we walk back up front. I feel my phone buzz again. Frank must hear the sound of the vibration because he looks at me amusedly.

“Maria again?” I shrug and walk around the counter to keep myself busy until I can find an excuse to go somewhere private and talk to Joel. “Girl can’t seem to get enough today, you’ve been glued to that phone all morning.”

“It’s probably that contractor guy,” Bill grumbles from across the room. I snap my head to him, trying to keep the blush off my cheeks. “The one she’s all goo-goo eyes for.”

So much for not blushing. I try to hide my burning face from view of Bill and Frank. I feel like a child caught crushing on the popular boy at school.

“Ahh yeah, Joel right?” Frank says. He turns back to me. “Is he coming to help tomorrow?”

“Joel? I think so. I know Maria said Tommy’s coming to help out with the muscle so I’d imagine Joel would be there too.” I try to act casual, but my voice comes out slightly higher than normal.

“Hmm, yeah we know that one has some muscle,” Frank says. I blush even more, just barely managing to stop myself from dropping my jaw at Frank’s comment.

“Sounds like you’re the one with the crush, Frank.” Frank laughs.

“Just making an observation,” he chides. “I think you could use a man like that…”

“Stop,” I beg. I hide my face in my hands. Frank laughs. Bill walks over to help a customer who just walked in while Frank pats me on the shoulder. “I’m taking a break.”

Frank shakes his head, still laughing. I walk toward the back of the shop. I take one more look over my shoulder before I disappear into the backroom.

I make my way to the bathroom and pull out my phone. I lean against the bathroom wall as I call Joel. He answers almost immediately.

“Someone’s needy today,” I joke. I make sure to keep my voice down so anyone who is outside of the bathroom door can’t hear.

“Babygirl, you have no idea.” I shudder at his nickname for me. His voice is deep with a sultry thickness pouring out like molasses. “I can’t stop thinking about you. Haven’t seen you all week, it’s killing me.”

“I know,” I respond. I half whisper into the phone. “I’m sorry, I miss you too. It’s just been crazy with work and Ellie. Getting Ellie caught up with classes has been rough. Turns out I’m really bad at math…”

“Darlin’ why are you whisperin’?” Joel asks.

“I’m in the bathroom at the shop. I don’t want Bill and Frank to hear me, they’ve already been making jokes about me crushing on you. I don't need them to hear anything else.” Joel laughs on the other end. “Stop that, it’s not funny!”

“Sorry sweetheart, but it kinda is.” I roll my eyes. “So you’re crushing on me huh?”

“Shut up,” I grumble. Joel laughs again and then the line goes silent.

“So…what are you wearing?”

“Oh, so it’s one of those phone calls. You’re really over there making fun of me while you’re waiting for me to help you get off?” I tease.

“Well I was going to pick you up and fuck you on a back road in my truck somewhere, but someone couldn’t get away from work.” I whimper at the thought.

It has been getting increasingly harder to sneak around these days. I’ve had to put so much focus on Ellie in order to prove to Marlene that things are solid with us. Joel has been extremely understanding, and my relationship with Ellie has never been better, but it’s been frustrating not to have alone time with him.

“You like that huh? Want to ride my cock in the front seat of my car, naughty girl.” I feel my pussy start to drip at his words. Fuck, I need him. “Go on, tell me what you’re wearing princess.”

“I can send you a picture…” I say. I smile when I hear Joel groan.

I position myself in front of the mirror and adjust my clothes a bit. I pull my neckline down a bit to show off more of my breasts. I turn to the side slightly so he can see the curve of my ass and then hook my thumb in the top of my jeans and pull them down just enough that he can see the top of my lacy black panties.

I take a couple pictures until I get one that I really like and send it over to him. I hear him moan when I pull the phone back to my ear, and then the sound of his belt clinking as he undoes it.

“Another baby, please. Let me see you.” I go back to the door and crack it open for a second. I don’t see anyone outside so I close it and lock the door.

I walk back to the mirror, setting the phone on the counter for a second, and take off my shirt. I push my jeans off as well and stand in front of the mirror wearing only my bra and underwear. I should be embarrassed doing this in the store bathroom, but a rush if adrenaline pumps through my veins as I position myself in front of the mirror. I nice one hand down, ghosting the lips of my pussy on the outside of my panties. I bite my lip and throw my head back, taking the picture and immediately sending it to Joel.

“Fuckk baby, so pretty for me.” I moan quietly at his praise. “Touch yourself gorgeous. Touch that pretty pussy for me. I want to hear you.”

I lean against the wall again and snake my fingers inside my underwear. I run them through my soaking folds, my underwear drenched as I hear the faint slapping sound of Joel’s fist moving up and down his cock.

“Oh Joel, I’m so wet for you,” I moan, making sure to keep my voice down.

Joel groans and a shiver runs down my spine. I dip two fingers inside my hole, my thumb starting to make circle motions. I whimper into the phone as I start to pump my fingers in and out. I try to match my pace to the sounds of Joel jacking off on the other end of the line. He moans loudly at my noises.

“Tell me what you’re doin’ right now sugar. What’s makin’ you make those sweet little noises?” He starts to pick up his pace, panting into the phone desperately.

“I’m touching myself.” I huff. “I got…got two fingers inside… wish it was your fingers, or your cock. Fuck, Joel wish you were splitting me open right now.”

Joel groans again, the sounds of him pumping himself getting louder.

“God, babygirl fuck. I wish I was there too.” I speed up my fingers, my climax building as he goes on. “Wish it was your pussy clenching around my cock right now instead of my hand. Got me fuckin’ jackin’ off in a goddamn parking lot, that’s what you do to me.”

I moan, a little louder than I probably should have. I move the phone to rest between my face and shoulder so I can cover my mouth as my other hand continues to move underneath my panties. I close my eyes and picture him in his truck outside his job site, thrusting his cock into his hands with his phone to his ear.

“Can anyone see you?” I ask. Joel chuckles darkly at my question.

“I don’t think so, not right now,” he grunts into the phone again. “Why gorgeous? That get you off? You like the idea of me gettin’ caught fuckin’ my fist to the thought of you?”

My stomach tightness and I moan again. I’m so close. So fucking close.

“Yeah, I think it does.” His words send another wave of pleasure through me. I’m right on the edge. “I think you like what you do to me. Think you like how desperate you make me, can’t stop thinkin’ of that pussy all goddamn week. You gettin’ close baby?”

“Yes, god yes, Joel please don’t stop.” Joel groans again.

“That’s it darlin’, I’m almost there too. Come for me babygirl. Come for me.”

I keep pumping my fingers in and out of my pussy until I’m finally pushed over the edge, panting and moaning around my other hand as I try to muffle my noises.

It doesn’t take long for Joel to follow. His groans sound more animal than human as I hear him pump his cock a couple more times and then stop. We both pant into the phone as we come down.

After my heart slows down I walk back to my discarded shirt and jeans on the floor and put them back on. I hear Joel’s belt clink again on the other line as well.

“I’ll be seeing you tomorrow then?” Joel asks as I straighten my shirt in the mirror.

“Yes, but remember it’s going to be a full house so you need to behave,” I remind him. He scoffs at my remark.

“Darlin’ I’m nothing if not a gentleman,” I chuckle at his remark.

“Would a gentleman jack himself off in a parking lot in the middle of the day?” I ask.

“You got me there,” he laughs. “But I’ll do my best to keep my hands to myself tomorrow, no matter how hard it’ll be after not seein’ ya for so long.”

I smile sheepishly, giddy at the thought of him having missed me so much after just a week.

“Thank you, I’ll see you tomorrow okay?” Joel agrees and we say our goodbyes. I wash my hands before heading back out to the front of the shop.

To read more visit A03

[ittyybittybaker]

“neil is living in andrew’s walls” this is going to live in my brain forever now, much like neil in andrew’s walls,

listen i wrote those tags when i was half asleep and i thought that would be it but i am, in fact, still thinking about it !!!! i picture it like this

nicky and the twins live together in the columbia house (kevin technically doesn't live there but he's at their place like 5 nights a week so he might as well at this point)

the columbia house is OLD, like over 100 years so there's all sorts of weird crawl spaces and an attic that no one ever goes into

neil's on the run, jumps into an open window, and finds their crawl space

maybe he's injured and needs a place to lie low for a while

he heals, but their house is reasonably safe and he can steal food from their kitchen when no one's home and he's made a kind of comfy nest in the attic

his favorite spot tho is the crawl space behind andrew's room because nicky and aaron are too loud (nicky with talking to erik and aaron with katelyn/video games probably). andrew just listens to music and like. reads or something

as he heals, neil gets braver and starts to go out into the house more and more. maybe he cleans up the kitchen every now and then or he folds the towels they leave in the dryer as a thank you for their unknowing hospitality

(really he's just bored from being cooped up for so long, even if their house is the nicest place he's stayed in a long while.)

the cousins start to notice weird things are happening

nicky thinks the house is haunted

aaron thinks they're all just being forgetful about what they leave around the house

kevin thinks they need to check the carbon monoxide detector (he saw a documentary about it once and won't stop talking about it)

but andrew doesn't believe in the supernatural, and he also doesn't think it's a mass hallucination

he spends the most time at home, and he swears he's heard a muffle laugh or too when he makes fun of kevin

and what ghost changes the channel to espn

he swears he sees someone with striking blue eyes in the kitchen one night around 3am when he's getting a glass of water but when he turns on the light there's no one there and the doors are locked from the inside

kevin's not the only one who's seen a documentary, and andrew's just watched one about a man living in someone's walls

he mentions his theory one day at breakfast but everyone just thinks he's making fun of them, so he makes a plan to prove himself right

he researches into the history of the house and find the blueprints in some archival records, and sees the weird spaces in the walls (at the library of course, if there was someone living in his walls he wouldn't risk them seeing his investigating)

neil thought he was being careful, but he was getting comfortable there and he forgot to clean up his attic nest one day. he snuck out to grab some much needed supplies from the store and also to stretch his legs

this just so happens to be the day andrew goes investigating, and finds neil's hideaway

he's there waiting for neil when he returns

somehow neil convinces andrew to let him stay by saying "you've already taken in one stray after all (aka kevin) so why not another?"

andrew has to admit, he's got a point. and he really is very pretty

so andrew lets neil hideout in his room instead of in the crawl space behind the walls

andrew starts spending a lot more time in his room. the others hear strange noises and shuffling from behind the door, even when andrew isn't home

nicky and aaron think he's adopted a pet without telling them

(they're only half wrong)

yadda yadda andriel do their thing, they build trust by sharing secrets and truths and kisses, etc

andrew decides that neil is a permanent addition to his life, and he won't ever have to hide away again

one day nicky and aaron come home and andrew's cuddling on the couch with neil

"andrew, who is this"

"this is neil."

"cool ... where did he come from"

"he was living in the walls."

"... i'm sorry, what?"

"i was right. you both owe me $20"

"...i'm sorry, WHAT?"

"ssshhh, can you keep it down? he just fell asleep."

"Andrew. what the actual FUCK-"

unfortunately, andrew is no longer paying attention. he's much too busy playing with neil's hair as he dozes

and they all lived happily ever after and no body ever lived in the walls ever again