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confetti-cat · 1 year

Text

Each, All, Everything

Words: 6.5k

Rating: PG

Themes: Friendship, Self-Giving Love, Romantic Love

(Written for the Four Loves Fairytale Retelling challenge over at the @inklings-challenge! A retelling of Nix, Nought, Nothing.)

The giant’s daughter weeps, and remembers.

—

She remembers the day her father first brought him home.

It was a bit like the times he’d brought home creatures to amuse her while he was on his journeys, away on something he called “business” but she knew was “gathering whatever good of the land he wanted”. Her father had brought back a beautiful pony, once—a small one he could nearly carry in one huge hand. One for her, and not another for his collection of horses he kept in the long stables. She wasn’t as tall as the hills and broad as the cliffs like he was, so she couldn’t carry it easily, but she heaved it up in both arms and tried nonetheless. (And—she thought this was important—stopped trying when it showed fear.) She was gentle to it, and in time, she would only need speak to it and it would come eat from her hand like a tame bird. She’d never been happier.

(The pony had grown fearful of her father. Her father grew angry with anything that wasted his time by cowering or trying to flee him. There was a terrible commotion in the stables one day, and when she sought her pony afterward, she couldn’t find him. Her father told her it was gone, back to the forest, and he’d hear no more of it if she didn’t want beaten.)

(There was a sinking little pit in her stomach that knew. But when she didn’t look for the best in her father, it angered him and saddened her, so she made herself believe him.)

The final little creature he brought one day was so peculiar. It was a human boy, small as the bushes she would sometime uproot for paintbrushes, dressed in fine green like the trees and gold like her mother’s vine-ring she wore. He seemed young, like her. His tuft of brown hair was mussed by the wind, and his dark eyes watched everything around him, wide and unsure and curious.

When he first looked at her from his perch on her father’s shoulder, he stared for a long moment—then lifted a tiny hand in a wave. Suddenly overwhelmed with hope and possibilities (a friend! Surely her father had blessed her with a small friend they could keep and not just a pet!), she lifted her own hand in a little wave and tried to smile welcomingly.

The boy stared for another long moment, then seemed to try a hesitant smile back.

“This,” boomed her father, stooping down in the mist of the morning as he waved away a low cloud with one hand, “is what I rightly bargained for. A prince, very valuable. The King of the South—curse his deceitful aims!—promised him to me.”

“He looks very fancy,” she’d said, eyes wide in wonder. “How did the king come to give him to you, Father?”

“How indeed!” the giant growled, so loud it sent leaves rattling and birds rushing to fly from their trees. He slowly lowered himself to be seated on the weathered cliff behind him and picked up his spark-stone, tossing a few felled trees into their fire-basin and beginning to work at lighting them. “Through lies and deceit from him. When he asked me to carry him across the waters I asked him for Nix, Nought, Nothing in return.”

The little boy shifted, clearly uncomfortable but afraid to move much. Her father scowled, though he meant it as a smile, and bared his yellowed teeth as he laughed.

“Imagine his countenance when he returned to find the son he’d not known he’d had was called Nix, Nought, Nothing! He tried to send servant boys, but I am too keen for such trickery. Their blood is on the hands of the liar who sent them to me.”

Such talk from her father had always unsettled her, even if he said it so forcefully she couldn’t imagine just how it wasn’t right. Judging from the way the boy curled in on himself a little, clinging meekly to her father’s tattered shirt-shoulder, he thought similarly.

“Nix, Nought, Nothing?” She observed the small prince, unsure why disappointment arose in her at the way he seemed hesitant to look at her now. “That is a strange name.”

Her father struck the rocks, the sound of it so loud it echoed down the valley in an odd, uneven manner. He shook his head as he worked, a stained tooth poking out of his lips as he struck it again and again until large sparks began alighting on the wood.

“His mother tarried christening him until the father returned, calling him such instead.” He huffed a chuckle that sounded more like a sneer, seeming to opt to ignore the creature on his shoulder for the time being. “You know the feeling, eh, Bonny girl?”

The boy tentatively looked up at her again.

The fire crackled and began to eat away at the bark and dry pine needles. A soft orange glow began to creep over it, leaving black char as it went. With a sudden, sharp breath by her father, a large flame leapt into the air.

“It is good that she did so. He is Nix, Nought, Nothing—and that he will remain.”

—

Nix Nought Nothing grew to be a fine boy. Her father treated him as well as he did the prized horses he’d taken from knights and heroes—which was to say that the boy was given decent food and a dry place to sleep and the richest-looking clothes a tailor could be terrified into giving them, which was as well as her father treated anything.

Never a day went by that she was not thankful and with joy in her heart at having a friend so near.

They spent many days while her father was away exploring the forest—Nix would collect small rocks and unusual leaves and robin’s-eggs and butterflies, and she would lift him into high trees to look for nests, and sometimes stand in the rivers and splash the waterfalls at him just to laugh brightly at his gawking and laughing and sputtering.

Some days she wished she was more of a proper giant. She wasn’t large enough for it to be very comfortable giving him rides on her shoulder once he’d grown. She was hesitant to look any less strong, however, so she braided her golden curls to keep them from brushing him off and simply kept her head tilted away from him as they walked through the forests together.

He could sit quite easily and talk by her ear as they adventured. Perhaps she would never admit it, but she liked that. Most of the time.

“I’m getting your shoulder wet,” he protested, still sopping wet from the waterfall. He kept shifting around, trying to sit differently and avoid blotching her blue dress with more water than he already had. “I hope you’re noticing this inconveniences you too?”

“Yes,” Bonny laughed. “You’re right. I hope there’s still enough sun to dry us along the way back. Father won’t be pleased otherwise.”

“Exactly. Perhaps you should have thought that through before drenching me!” he huffed, but she could hear the grin in his tone even if she couldn’t quite turn her head to see it. He flicked his arm toward her and sent little droplets of water scattering across the side of her face.

Her shoulders jerked up involuntarily as the eye closest to him shut and she tried to crane her neck even further away, chuckling. Nix made a noise like he’d swallowed whatever words were on his tongue, clutching to her shoulder and hair to steady himself.

“You’d probably be best not trying to get me while I’m giving you a ride?” Bonny suggested, unable to help a wry smile.

“Yes. Agreed. Apologies.” His words came so stilted and readily that she had to purse her lips to keep in a laugh. As soon as he relaxed, his voice grew a tad incredulous. “Though—wait, I can’t exactly do anything once I’m down. Are you trying to escape my well-earned retaliation?”

“I would never,” she assured him, no longer trying to hide her smile. “I’ll put you in a tree when we get back and you can splash me all you like.”

Somehow, his voice was amused and skeptical and unimpressed by the notion all at once.

“Really? You’d do that?” he asked, sounding as if he were stifling a smirk.

She shrugged—gently, of course, but with a little inward sense of mischievousness—and he yelped again at the movement.

“Well, it would take a lot of water to get a giant wet,” she reasoned. “I doubt you’ll do much. But yes, for you, I would brave it.”

He chuckled, and she ventured a glance at him out of the corner of her eye.

“Bonny and brave,” he said, looking up at her with a little smile and those dark eyes glimmering with light. “You are a marvel.”

It would probably be very noticeable to him if she swallowed awkwardly and glanced away a bit in embarrassment. She tried not to do that, and instead gave him a crooked little smile in return.

“Hm,” was all she could say. “And what about you?”

“Me? Oh, I’m Nothing.” The jest was terrible, and would still be terrible even if she hadn’t heard it numerous times. “But you are truly a gem among girls.”

If by gem he meant a giantess who still had to enlist his help disentangling birds from her hair, then perhaps. She snorted.

“I don’t know how you would know. You don’t know any other girls.”

“Why would I need to?” His face was innocent, but his eyes were sparkling with mirth and mischief. “You’re the size of forty of them.”

The noise that erupted from her was so abrupt and embarrassingly like a snort it sent the branches trembling. She plucked him off her shoulder and set him gently on the ground so she could swat at him as gently as she could—careful not to strike him with the leaf-motifs on her ring—though it still knocked him off his feet and into the grass. He was laughing too hard to seem to mind, and she couldn’t stifle her laughs either.

“Well, you are really something,” she teased, unable to help her wide smile as she tried futilely to cast him a disapproving look.

That quieted him. He pushed himself to sit upright in the grass, and looked out at the woods ahead for a long moment.

“You think?” Nix asked quietly.

She smiled down at him.

“Yes,” she laughed softly. “Of course.” When he looked up at her, brown eyes curious, she held his gaze and hoped he could see just how glad she was to know him. “Everything, even.”

A small smile grew on his own face, lopsided and warm. He ducked his head a bit and looked away from her again, and embarrassment started to fill her—but it was worth it.

It often weighed on her heart to say that more than she did. She supposed she was the type of person who liked to show such things rather than say them.

She had a cramp in one of her shoulders from trying to carry him smoothly, but the weight on the other one—and on his—seemed far lighter.

—

She remembered the day her father came home livid.

She couldn’t figure out what had happened. Had he been wounded? Insulted? Tricked? He wouldn’t say.

He just raged. The trees bent under his wrath as he stamped them down, carving a new path through the forest. He picked up boulders and flung them at cliffsides, the noise of the impacts like thunder as showers of shattered stone flew in all directions.

She was tending to the garden a ways off—huge vines and stalks entwined their ways up poles and hill-high arbors made from towering pines, where she liked to work and admire how the sunset made the leaves glow gold—and suddenly had a sharp, sinking feeling.

Nix was still at his little shelter-house at their encampment. Her father was there.

Dread washed over her.

“Riddle me this, boy,” her father boomed, in the voice he only used when he wanted an excuse to strike something. “What is thick like glass and thin as air, cold but warm, ugly but fair? Fills the air yet never fills it, never exists but that all things will it?”

There was silence for a long moment.

...Silence. The answer was silence. Her father was trying to trick him into speaking.

Her hands curled around the bucket handle so weakly it was a surprise she didn’t drop it. Her father could crush him if he felt he had the slightest excuse.

Hush, hush, hush, her mind pleaded. Her hands shook. For your life and mine, hush—

There continued to be silence for a moment—and then, Nix must have answered. (Perhaps in jest. He tended to joke when uncertain. That would have been a mistake.)

There came the indescribable sound of a tree being ripped from its roots, and the deafening thunder of it being thrown and smashing down trees and structures.

Her whole body tensed horribly, and all she could see in her mind’s eye was nightmares.

No, she thought weakly.

Her father kept shouting. But not just shouting, addressing. Asking scathing rhetorical questions. She felt faint with relief, because her father had never wasted words on the dead.

I should have brought him with me. The thought flooded her body and left room for nothing else but dread and regret. I could have prevented this.

The stables were long and broad and old. Once, they had housed armies’ steeds and chariots. Now, they were run-down and reinforced so nothing could escape out the doors. The roof was broken off like a lid on hinges at intervals so her father could reach in to arrange and feed his horses.

Her father had seen no reason to keep the stalls clean. When one was so packed with bedding it had decomposed to soil at the floor level, the horse was moved to the next unused stall. There were so many stalls that she barely remembered, sometimes, that there were other ways of addressing the problem.

“The stable has not been cleaned in seven years,” her father boomed. “You will clean it tomorrow, or I will eat you in my stew.”

She couldn’t hear Nix’s response, but she could feel his dread.

Her father stormed away, more violently than any storm, and slowly, after the echoes of his steps faded, silence again began to hang in the air.

That night, it was hard to sleep. The next morning, it was hard to think.

She did the only thing she could think to do in such a nervous state. She brought her friend breakfast. His favorite breakfast—a roast leg of venison and a little knife he could use to cut off what he wanted of it, and fried turkey-eggs, and a modest chunk of soft brown bread.

When she arrived with it, he was still mucking out the first stall. There were hundreds ahead of him. He was only halfway to the floor of the first.

“I can’t eat,” Nix murmured, almost too quietly to hear and with too much misery to bear. “I can’t stop. But thank you.”

The pile outside the door he’d opened up was already growing too large. Of every pitchfork-full he threw out, some began to tumble back in. He was growing frustrated, and out of breath.

Why would her father raise a boy, a prince, only to eat him now? Her father was cunning; surely he’d had other plans for him. Or perhaps he really was kept like the horses, as a trophy or prize taken from the human kingdoms that giants so hated.

Was this his fate? Worked beyond reason, only to be killed?

Pity—or something stronger, perhaps, that she couldn’t name—stirred in her heart. A heat filled her veins, burning with sadness and a desire to set right. Would the world be worthwhile without this one small person in it?

No.

This wouldn’t end this way.

She called to the birds of the air and all the creatures of the forest. Her heart-song was sad and pure—so when she pleaded with them, to please hear, please come and carry away straw and earth and care for what has been neglected, they listened.

The stable was clean by the time the first stars appeared. When she set Nix gently on her shoulder afterward, he hugged the side of her head and laughed in weary relief for a long while.

—

She remembered the lake, and the tree.

“Shame on the wit who helped you,” her father had boomed. He’d inspected the stable by the light of his torch—a ship’s mast he’d wrapped the sails around the top of and drenched in oil—and found every last piece of dirt and straw gone. Had he known it was her, that she could do such a thing? She couldn’t tell. “But I have a worse task for you tomorrow.”

The lake nearest them was miles long, and miles wide, and so deep that even her father could not ford it.

“You will drain it dry by nightfall, or I will have you in my stew.”

The next morning, soon as her father had gone away past the hills, she came to the edge of the lake. She could hear the splashing before she saw it.

Nix stood knee-deep in the water, a large wooden bucket in his hands, struggling to heave the water out and into a trench he’d dug beside the shore.

When she neared him and knelt down in the sand, scanning the water and the trench and the distant, distant shoreline opposite them, Nix fell still for a moment. She looked at him, hoping he could see the apology in her eyes.

“Can I help?” she asked.

He shook his head miserably.

“Thank you. But even if we both worked all day, we couldn’t get it dry before nightfall.” He gave her a wry, sad smile, full of pain. “The birds and the creatures can’t carry buckets, I’m afraid.”

It was true. They could not take away the water.

But perhaps other things could.

She stood and drew a deep breath, and called to the fish of the rivers and lake, and to the deep places of the earth to please hear, please open your mouths and drain the lake dry.

With a tumult that shook the earth beneath them all, they did. The chasm it left in the land was great and terrible, but it was dry.

Her father was livid to see it.

“I’ve a worse job for you tomorrow,” he’d thundered at Nix as the twilight began to darken. “There is a tree that has grown from before your kind walked this land. It is many miles high, with no branches until you reach the top. Fetch me the seven eggs from the bird’s nest in its boughs, and break none, or I will eat you before the day is out.”

She found Nix at dawn the next day at the foot of the tree, staring up it with an expression more wearied than she’d ever seen before. She looked up the tree as well. It seemed to stretch up nearly to the clouds, its trunk wide and strong with not a foothold in sight. At the top, its leaves shone a faint gold in the sunlight.

“He is wrong to ask you these things,” Bonny said softly. Her words hung in the air like the sunbeams seemed to hang about the tree. There was something special about this place, some old power with roots that ran deep. “I’m very sorry for it.”

“You needn’t be,” Nix assured her. His countenance was grey, but he tried to smile. “But thank you. You’re very kind.”

She looked up the tree again. Uncertainty filled her, because this was an old tree—a strong one. Even if it could hear her, it had no obligation to listen. “Will you try?”

He laughed humorlessly. “What choice do I have?”

None. He had none.

He could not escape for long on his own—he could not be gone fast enough or hide safely enough for her father not to sniff him out. The destruction that would follow him would be far more than he would wish on the forests and villages and cities about them.

She, however, bit her lip.

She slipped the gold vine-ring off her hand, and rolled it so that it spiraled between her fingers. It was finely crafted, made to look like it was a young vine wrapping its way partly up her finger.

“This is all I have of my mother,” she said quietly. “But it will serve you better.”

Before he could speak—she knew him well enough to know that he would bid her to stop, to not lose something precious on his account (as if he weren’t?)—she whispered a birdlike song, and pleaded with the gold and the tree and the old good in the world to help them.

When she tossed the ring at the base of the tree (was it shameful that she had to quell a sadness that tried to creep into her heart?), it writhed. One end of it rooted into the ground, and suddenly it was no longer gold, but yellow-green—and the vine grew, and grew, curling around the tree as it stretched upward until it was nearly out of sight.

Nix stared at her with wide eyes and an emotion she couldn’t quite place. Whatever it was, it made her ears warm.

She smiled slightly and stepped back, tilting her head at the vine.

“Well?” she said. He was still staring at her with that look—some mix of awestruck and like he was trying to draw together words—and it made her fold her arms lightly and smile as she looked away. She quickly looked back to him, hoping faintly that her embarrassment wasn’t obvious. ��You’d best hurry. That’s still a long way up.”

He seemed to give up finding words for the moment. Nix glanced up the tree, now decked with a spiral of thick, knobby vine that looked nearby like uneven stairs.

“Give me a boost?” he asked with a bright grin. “To speed it up.”

She laughed and gently scooped him up in both hands. “A boost, or just a boost?”

He beamed at her. “As high as you can get me,” he declared, waving an arm dramatically.

She laughed and shook her head. ”Absolutely not. Ready?”

Nix nodded, and she smiled thinly and poured all her focus into a spot a good distance up the tree. With a very gentle but swift motion, she tossed him upward a bit—and he landed on his feet on the vine, one shoulder against the bark, clutching to the tree for support as he laughed.

“A marvel!” he shouted down to her as he climbed. “Never forget that!”

The sun was nearly setting when he descended with the eggs bundled in his handkerchief. He was glowing.

He triumphantly hopped down the last few feet to the ground.

A moment after he landed, a soft crack sounded. He froze.

Slowly, he drew the bundle more securely into his arms against him and looked down. There, by his foot, was a little speckled egg, half-broken in the grass.

She put a hand over her mouth. Nix clutched the rest and stared.

A grievous pain and numbness slowly filled her heart, and she knew it was filling his too.

His shoulders began to shake, and his eyes were glassy.

“Well,” he laughed weakly. ”...That’s it. That’s... that was my chance.” The distress that overtook him was like a dark wave, and it threatened to cover her too. He only shook his head. “I’m so sorry. Thank you for—for helping me.”

For everything, she didn’t give him a chance to add. He was looking at her with the eyes of one who might say that. She couldn’t afford to be overcome with the notion of saying goodbye now.

“No,” she said. Her voice was quiet, at first, but it grew more resolute. “It won’t end this way.”

He blinked up at her, still clutching the other eggs to his chest. She looked down at him, then across the stretch of forest to their home.

Without a word, she gently picked him up and set him on her shoulder. Her jaw tensed as she strode quickly through well-worn paths of the forest, walking as fast as a horse could run.

Once home, she set him down. He was still looking at her questioningly. Her heart beat faster in her chest, and she hoped he couldn’t see the anxiousness rising in her and battling with the excitement.

“I will not let him have you,” she announced firmly. The trees and hills all around were witness to her promise. “Grab what you need. We’ll leave together in the hour.”

—

She‘d barely had time to fix her hair, grab her water flask, and decide it would be best this time of year to go south.

Her father’s footsteps boomed closer across the land.

—

They fled.

They ran, and ran, and struggled and strove, and she called for the help of anything she could think of that would have mercy on them.

Her comb grew into thorns, her hairpin into a hedge of jagged spires. Neither stopped him. Her dress’s hem was in tatters and sweat poured from her brow when they were finally safe.

Her flask lay behind them, cast down and broken, its magic used up.

Her father—her father—lay stretched out motionless in the flooded plain behind them, never to rise again.

—

There was a tiny spark of hope they had that they clung to. A hope of a future, of restoration, of amending the past and pursuing peace—of a life worth living, perhaps far, far away from things worth leaving behind.

(“I’ll go to the castle,” he’d said, his voice brimming with nerves and hope and uncertainty and sadness and an eager warmth. It made her heart try to mirror all those emotions alongside him. “I can tell my mother and father who I am. I’d still recognize them, even if they don’t know me. They’ll take us in, I’m sure of it.”)

He set out into the maze of village streets, assuring her he’d ask for directions and be back promptly. She stayed back by the well at the edge of the town so not to alarm anyone, too exhausted to go another step, but full of hope for him. She would wait until he returned.

(And wait. And wait. And wait and wait and wait and dread—)

The castle gardener came to draw water, and—as if she weren’t as tall as the small trees under the huge one she sat against—struck up a conversation with her about the mysterious boy who’d fallen unconscious across the threshold of the castle, asleep as if cursed to never wake up.

(The spark didn’t last long.)

—

She remembered when he could move.

“Please,” she whispered, as soft as her voice would go. “Please, if you can hear me. Wake up.”

(“Oh, dearest,” the gardener’s frail wife had murmured to her when the kind gardener brought her home to partake of a bit of supper. “I’m afraid they won’t let you in as you are. Would you let me sing you a catch as you eat?”)

The gardener’s wife was frailer by the end of it, but her heart-song could change things, like her own. Instead of towering at the heights of the houses, she was now six feet tall by human reckoning, and still thankful the castle had high halls and tall doors.

(Their daughter, a fair maiden with a shadow about her, had watched from the doorway.)

Nix Nought Nothing lay nearly motionless in the cushioned chair the castle servants had placed him in. His chest rose and fell slowly, like he was in a deep sleep.

He was still smaller than she was, but not by much. He seemed so large, or close. She could see details she’d never noticed before—his freckles, the definition of his eyelashes, the scuffs and loose threads in his tunic.

The way his head hung as if he could no longer support it.

She held him gently—oddly, now, with both her hands so small on his arms and an uncertainty of what to do now—and wept over him. She sung through her tears, her heart pleading with his very soul, but to no avail. He did not wake up.

He didn’t hear her—likely couldn’t hear her. All around him, the air was sharp and still and dead. Cursed.

Still, her heart pleaded with her, now. Try, try. Don’t stop speaking to him. Remember? He never stopped trying.

“You joke that you are nothing," she said, with every drop of earnestness in her being. "But I tell you, you are all I had, and all I had ever wished for.”

There was power in names. She knew that. But was his even a proper name? It really wasn’t—though it was all he had.

It was all she had as well. She had exhausted everything else close to her. There was nothing left to call on, to plead with, but him.

“Nix Nought Nothing,” she said softly. “Awaken, please.”

Her voice, no longer so resonant and deep with giant’s-breath, sounded foreign in her ears. It was mournful and soft like the doves of the rocks, and grieved like the groan of the earth when it split.

“I cleaned the stable, I lave the lake, and clomb the tree, all for the love of thee,” she said, her voice thickening with tears. A drop of saltwater fell and landed on his tunic, creating another of many small blotches. “And will you not awaken and speak to me?”

Nothing.

—

She didn’t remember being shown out of the room. Her vision was too blurred, and her mind was too distraught and overwhelmed. The next thing she could focus on enough to recall was that she was now seated on a stiff chair in the hall. Someone had been kind enough to set a cup of water on the little table beside her.

The towering doors creaked softly behind her, and at last, someone new entered. She looked over her shoulder, barely able to see through the dry burning left behind by her tears.

A man and a woman stood in the door. They were dressed in fine robes, and looked like nobles.

"What is the matter, dear?" the woman asked, looking over her appearance with eyes soft with pity. She came close, and her presence was like cool balm, gentle and comforting. "Why do you weep?"

The gold roses woven in the green of the woman's dress swam in her vision as she dropped her gaze, unsure what to say. These people seemed kind. But were they? Would they send her out from here, unable to return to him?

They would be right to do so. She was a stranger here, and Nix could not vouch for her like he'd planned.

"No matter what I do," she finally said softly, "I cannot get Nix Nought Nothing to awaken and speak to me."

In one moment, only the woman stood there—in the next, the man was beside her. The air was suddenly still and heavy like glass, and it felt as though there was a thread drawn taut between them all for a moment.

"Nix Nought Nothing?" they asked in unison, their voices full of something tense and heavy and sharp. When she looked up, nearly fearful at the sudden change in their tone, their faces were slack and pale.

Something stirred in her heart. Look. What do you see?

Green and gold. Their wide eyes were a familiar warm brown.

—

Now, things are changing.

According to the servant who'd been keeping an eye on him, all from the kingdom had been offered reward if they could wake the sleeping stranger, and the the gardener's daughter had succeeded. It was a mystery how it had happened—by whom had he been cursed? Her father? Then why could she not wake him, but a maiden from the castle-town here could?—but now, with the King and Queen hovering beside her and unable to stay still for anticipation, no one cared.

The gardener's daughter was fetched, and bid to sing the unspelling catch for the prince. (Prince. He was a prince, while she was a ruffian's daughter. She kept forgetting, when she was with him.) It was a haunting one that grated on her ears, as selfishly-written magics often did—and as if bitterness still crept at the girl's heart at the sight of all who were here, she left as soon as it was finished.

Nix Nought Nothing awoke—he awoke! He opened his eyes and sat up and looked at her as if seeing the sunrise after a year of darkness, and how her heart leaps high into her throat at the sight—and true to form, only blinks a few times at her as he seems to take her in before coming to terms with it.

"You look a bit different," he remarks, tilting his head slightly. "Or did I grow?"

She chokes on a snort.

"Hush," is all she can say. What had been an attempt at an unimpressed expression melts into a wavering smile. "Are you done napping now?"

He opens his mouth to retort, but a grin creeps onto his face before he can. He snickers. "Have I slept that long?"

"Nigh a week," the Queen says—and when Nix turns his head and sees her, his eyes grow wide. The Queen's smile grows broad and wavers with emotion, and the King's eyes are crinkled at the edges, and shining. "It has been a long time."

Her own father had never shown love like this—like the way Nix tries to leap from his chair at the same moment his parents rush to hold him, all of them laughing and sobbing and shouting exclamations of love and excitement and I-thought-I-would-never-see-you-agains. So much joy rolls off of them that she thinks she could have stood there watching forever and been content.

The first thing he does, after the first surge of this, is turn and introduce her to his parents, who had barely finished hugging him and kissing him and calling him their own dear son.

"This is the one who helped me," Nix says, already gesturing to her in excitement as he looks from her to his parents. "She sacrificed much to save me from the giant. Her kindness is brilliant and she blesses all who know her."

She tries not to look embarrassed at the glowing praise as Nix comes and stands beside her as he recounts their blur of a tale to his parents.

"Ah! She is bonny and brave," says the King. By the end of Nix's stories of their escapes, they're smiling warmly at her with such pride that she dips her head and smiles.

Nix Nought Nothing glances sideways up at her and raises a brow, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips.

"I've tried to tell her that," he agrees. "I don't think she's ever believed me."

She purses her lips and glances down at him. "I'll believe it the day you believe you are not nothing."

"Alright." Simple as that, he folds his arms and raises a brow at her. "I believe it. Fair trade?"

"Fair enough," she decides, with a crooked little smile. He beams, as if she's done something worth being proud of, and looks to his parents, who indeed look proud of them both.

"We would welcome you as our daughter," the King declares heartily, and both the Queen and Nix brighten, which makes her too embarrassedly fixated on the thought of family? Starting anew? to register what comes next. "Surely, you should be married!"

Nix looks at her, arms still folded, his eyes twinkling. There's something hopeful in his eyes that makes her certain this diminutive new heart of hers has skipped a few beats.

"Should we? Surely?" he asks, as if this is a normal thing to be discussing.

She works her jaw and swallows a few times, unable to help how obviously awkward she still likely looks. A flush tickles her face, and the queen seems to put a hand over her mouth to smile behind it.

"I... don't... suppose... I would mind," she manages, and—with those bright eyes so affectionate, and on her—Nix starts snickering at her expression. It's rude, but so, so warm she can't mind. She only discovers how broadly she's smiling when she tries to purse her lips and glare at him but is unable to. "Oh, go back to sleep!" she chides, too gleeful inside to truly mind, even as she makes a motion as if throwing one of the chair-cushions at him.

"Never!" he declares, pretending to dodge the invisible pillow. He makes broad gestures that she presumes are meant to emphasize how serious he is about this. When he stands straight and tall and sets his shoulders, she thinks that the boy she's explored the forest with really does look like a prince. "I have my family and my love all together in safety at last. We have much to speak of, and much time yet to spend with each other." He's a prince, but of course, he's also still himself. He immediately gets a mischievous glimmer in his eyes and puts a hand to his chest nobly as he does what he's done for as long as she's known him—jokes, when his emotions rise. "I shall never adhere to a bedtime as long as I live!"

My love, her heart still repeats every time it beats—as payback, likely, for her calling it diminutive. My love, my love, my love.

She doesn't let it out, for she doesn't know what it will do. But the words weave a song within her, so vibrant and effervescent and strong, brighter and clearer than any she's had before.

"I am glad to see you are certainly still my dear son," the Queen says, her own eyes twinkling. "I'm certain you both need fed well after such a journey. Come, perhaps you both can tell us more of it as supper is prepared."

They fall into an easy tumble of conversation and rejoicing and genial planning, and her heart is so light she thinks it must be plotting to escape her chest.

On the week's end from when she brought him here, Nix Nought Nothing and his family welcomes her into their home. It feels natural. It feels warm, and homey, and so pleasant and right that she often has to stop tears of weary joy from welling up as she considers it all.

Once upon a time, she thought she'd known happiness well enough without him. She had known what it was like to be without a friend, and without love.

Now, it’s hard to remember it.

#inklingschallenge #four loves fairy tale retelling challenge #each all everything #theme: philia #theme: eros #story: complete #Nix Nought Nothing #fairy tale retelling #And there we have it!! A THING that is now FINISHED #Some changes have been made from the original fairytale #such as: no one’s losing their toes like that on my watch!!#please note that having everyone keep their toes actually improves the story #by letting the characters be happier thanks to having toes #you’re welcome #edit: I forgot it was fingers AND toes #oof??#this is an extremities-safe zone #Bonny and Nix #There are some parts of this I’m not sure are the best they could be BUT it’s FINISHED and that was my main goal!#(I don't finish things I start writing near often enough; so whoo! Small victory!)#wait a minute did I include all four types of love??#I DID #that's hilarious that was not intentional #at the discretion of the contest runner to include; as doing all four sounds a bit extra:#theme: storge #theme: agape #This was supposed to be a friendship/romantic love combination that would surprise no one who has read my writing #imagine my own (retrospectively unwarranted) surprise when it turned into an excuse for me to write all the kinds of love??#Anyway this was so much fun to write! I hope you enjoy! <3 #salt and light

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how-to-be-a-tree · 1 year

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#veer vs balli #the never ending staring contest!!!#this is hilarious #i really need to get this off my head!!! or my mom is gonna think that I'm in love #veer ahuja #balli sherawat #zeyn shaw #cwaayal singh #cla$$#class netflix #netfix #kimuona

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worstloki · 1 year

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Thor, rambling while Loki reads: --and yes, we are brothers, but I would kiss you if you asked!

Loki, suddenly much less interested in his book: What?

Thor: What?

Amora: *'sneakily' watching with her head peeking over the librarian's desk* HE SAID HE WOULD KISS YOU IF YOU ASKED.

#been finding the option of competitive fair play and sportsmanship supportiveness so much better as an option for everyone #like sure Amora is dying to bang Thor and Sif is trying to be a good friend while also vying/hoping for his interest #and sure Loki is somehow winning the contest with little idea he's taking part #but that doesn't mean they all have to fight!!!!#Amora being like 'well if i can't have him then im voting for Loki' while Sif and Loki joke about Thor's 'obvious' crush on one of them #Loki: *pointedly @ Sif* and to NO ONES surprise Thor has made off for the night with a stunning fair maiden with dark hair and blue eyes #Sif: it's OBVIOUS he's like this for *you*#Loki: nah ur just mad that im right about this. and the fact that he'd rather never confess than begrudge your warrior bond or whatever #Sif: he likes guys too -there's no way to explain that away with me! YOU'RE a shapeshifter making it doable to his...salacious imaginings :#Loki: what if he has a type. maybe he likes us both? that would explain the time he--#Amora: if i wanted i could make clones too yknow -_-#Sif Loki Amora with sometimes Lorelei showing up and lowkey thinking it's a fun time to cheer the others on in gaining Thor's attentions #Fandral too one day he's red faced and all 'shame on my family line' but he's taken a seat at their table reluctantly and gone #''his arms. right?''#and there are just nods of solidarity around the table #idk #something of a wholesome Thor fanclub which Loki is attending because Sif is CONVINCED his type isn't her but is Loki #and Amora who thinks it would be wicked hilarious for the bros to get it on #Fandral: wait I thought Loki was just sitting here to stop people bothering your table. and because he's a loner #Loki: Fandral FINALLY. Fandral look me in the eyes. tell them Thor isn't in love with me #Fandral: you?! I'm hoping he's into blond T-T #Amora: *fist over her heart* respect T-T

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thatscarletflycatcher · 2 months

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This is the third novel centered on a Squire that I pick that has a main plot line about inheritance (I did dnf The Squire's Daughter before I could tell if that was going to be the case as well), and I'm thinking that if it wasn't that Wives and Daughters came over a decade before these, I would think Gaskell was lampshading the inheritance trope in it.

#like nope young Osborne is inheriting everything yup and everybody loves him and no one is contesting him #i wonder if they chose squires because anything titled would have been considered much more risky #the novels are #Squire Arden probably one of the most disappointing novels I have ever read #three whole volumes to have absolutely no plot and no plot twist #it wasn't even a slice of life story it just... was whatever it was #then The Squire of Sandal-Side which was much better but also somewhat hilarious #the pov character be like #I can condone my brother the heir being a dissolute egotistical gambler and I will enable him as much as humanly possible #but I draw the line at him marrying AN ITALIAN and a Catholic #and a singer too but you know that wouldn't have been an issue if she was British #and the novel is like “this is the lowest point on my rather obvious prodigal son metaphor” XD #the third one is An English Squire #I'm only just 20% in so I don't know where is it going exactly #but the premise is interesting #it is about a squire who married a Spanish woman in his youth and had a child with her #then she died and his father died and he remarried #but his first son Alvar remains the legitimate heir #and when he comes of age he comes to visit him and his family #we'll see

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beskad · 9 months

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omg, the way they're handling the story of Job is SO FUNNY

i fuckin love this

#CHRIST #job is like one of the more fucked up stories that's supposed to somehow be so inspirational #it was my dad's favorite and i'm like haha ok i guess - have fun worshipping a god who's fine with you being tormented #as some kind of bragging contest for See How Much He Loves Me #no wonder my fucked up parents were always preaching about how noble it was to Suffer for God #yeah no thank u #a god who would engage in this pissing contest is not a god worth worshipping imo thanks #HILARIOUS to see it handled this way #good omens spoilers #rray.txt

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ohkelpart · 1 year

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I literally forgot the mcyt sexy man contest was a contest of who the mcyt tumblr sexy man- It just feels like a popularity contest

#thekelptalks??#mcyt tumblr #mcyt tumblr sexy man contest #but it’s freakin hilarious #a very tumblr thing to do #I love seeing all the propaganda posts

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ventique18 · 24 days

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Y'all I read a Malleyuu comic where Malleus is already a fourth year and is doing his off-campus work, so Yuu begins to wonder what they'll do after graduation and if a magicless person could even belong in a magical place like Briar Valley.

During the time, Malleus realizes that he yearns for Yuu and can't live without them anymore, so when he got a chance to see them again, he finally pops the question.

"Won't you come with me? Will you be the first person who greets my every waking morning?" ("Will you be my spouse?")

And Yuu tearfully says yes. Finally, they have somewhere to belong to. Finally, they have a future.

... As a palace guard who greets Prince Malleus with a "Good morning! Nothing to report, sir!"

I CAN'T TAKE THIS LMAOOOO 😭😭😭 It's so on-brand for Malleyuu OMFG. There's even a little sequel where Sebek comes to Malleus to oppose his decision.

🐊: "You know how I've always respected you, sir. But this time... Just this time! Please change your mind!"

🐉: "If this is about me and Yuu, then there's no place for contest."

🐊: "Sir, please hear me out!!"

🐉: "This is our decision, and I will not tolerate any--"

🐊: "I DON'T THINK BEING A PALACE GUARD WOULD SUIT THEM AT ALL! PLEASE RETHINK YOUR DECISION!!"

🐉: "Sebek what the fuck are you talking about."

This is especially so hilarious when you know that the Japanese (at least in old school) would say absolutely anything except for marry me. "Won't you make miso for me everyday for the rest of our lives," "please wash my underwear." Like 😭

Link to the comic if you want to see the lovely art:

#twisted wonderland #ventique shares #malleus draconia #malleus x reader #twst yuu #sebek zigvolt

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munsster · 1 year

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hii!! i'd like to request a steve harrington x fem!reader fic pls <33 reader confesses to steve, but he says he doesn't like her. then reader's all 'okay fine, i'm gonna move on' and when she actually does that, steve is 🥺 lots of angst please and some steve grovelling teehee <33

gut feeling

A/N: okay yes 😏 i screwed this up the littlest bit, but i hope it still tickles ur fancy. also i’ve seen this done for king!steve and i wanted to write it for s4 steven

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Summary: You have big feelings for Steve, he’s just not sure he feels the same way. 3.6k words.

Warnings: angst, but it resolves into fluff, unrequited love trope, lots of feelings, friends to lovers?, CURSING!, italics, established friendship, feat. Keith 😑

"You think it would be gross if we kissed?"

Steve thinks you might actually sound hurt, but he also thinks the face he's making is hilarious beyond belief: kind of contorted and screwed inward, nose scrunched and trying really hard to batten down a grin. You glare at him from the passenger's seat, arms crossed tight over your green Family Video vest.

You think he's wonderful despite his naiveté. If only he knew how handsome you thought he was, all caramel locks and big brown eyes and the kind of smile that reaches his eyes before he's even thought of it. No wonder he has an ego up to the moon. No wonder he still manages to weasel his way into the creases and crevices of any living creature's heart. Even yours. Hell, especially yours.

"Yeah, duh!"—and he's so sure of it, you could cry—"You're like the little sister I never had!"

You chuckle but you look like you're about to hurl yourself out of the car or get yourself arrested for manslaughter. Thank God he's only a block away from your house, or he'd never see the light of day again. Does he really think of you like that? The soft laughter peters out into a grating silence that burns right down your throat and feels like hard metal settling in your lungs.

He doesn't dare glance over at you. He only bites down hard around nothing and grimaces, eyes set hard on the lines dashing beneath the grill of his car. Jesus Christ, he does not think of you like that. And he begs whatever stupid pride is keeping him steady in this nonexistent pissing contest to leave it be, but its jaw is set in the tender meat of the game.

"Don't have to be so jovial about it," you grumble.

"What?"

"Mine's on the left," you grumble, nodding out the window. Oh, he's definitely in trouble. You only ignore him like this when he's done something boyish to a fault.

"I know. I drive you home every—hey!"

"Bye," you coo, booking it up the steps to your door, refusing to turn over your shoulder for fear that you'll burst into tears upon seeing him smile or frown or crack the slightest look of confusion.

He watches you slam the door and rolls the passenger window up with a frustrated sigh. Where the Hell did that come from and why. All while you're sitting against the foot of your bed, chattering into the phone at Robin, still wearing your uniform and tugging at strands of your hair as expletives weave themselves between every three words.

"Oh my Fucking God, I'm so fucking embarrassed right now, Robs—Does he—? Does he think I'm some sort of fuckin' baby? I just don't—"

"He's just being Steve, okay? He probably didn't mean it—"

"The way he looked at me, Robin, I felt like a fucking imbecile. Of all the dickheads in the world I could fall for, my heart chose Harrington? Maybe I'm the idiot." You sigh and kick your feet out, the frustration winding up new nerves and letting them go like tight springs to fling out over your body.

She sighs and it rattles through the grainy speaker. "You're not an idiot; he has his moments. Don't beat yourself up, you know how he gets. He's probably not thinking straight, just... tell him? The worst he can say is—"

"That I'm like a sister to him? Oh, how delightful. That's even worse than just flat out admitting I'm unattractive."

"You're not unattractive, don't do that."

"I am to him," you groan.

"Hey," she hums after a beat of crackling silence. You close your eyes and grip the sickly yellow receiver a little tighter.

"I really like him."

"I know."

"And it sucks."

"I know." The other end rustles and you let out a curt sigh just as you move to stand. "I love you, and I'm here for you. Especially when dumb boys make you feel like shit. You'll always be the most amazing and most beautiful girl in my life, don't forget that."

"Thank you. I'll see you, Robs."

"Take it easy."

—

Steve wakes up to an ache in his neck and a soreness in his knuckles. You didn't call him last night. And he's assuming you didn't call him before school this morning because his alarm clock flashes eleven, first period starts at eight-thirty, and the tone his ancient landline emits is shrill enough to deafen a man. Let alone wake him up in a cold sweat. He concocts a sick feeling in his stomach of burnt orange shame and maroon guilt because he has to wait until closing shift tonight to explain himself to you.

But by then, he's feeling spiteful. You weren't home when he went to pick you up and he waited ten minutes and knocked on the door in bulk. Until someone who was not you answered and told him that you'd gotten a ride with some jerk from the Hawkins High football team. That's not how it was originally said, but that's how he heard it. So you're avoiding him? It makes him spit up a little in his mouth, and he's going about twenty over the speed limit the entire way to make it on time.

By the time he can fling open the glass door and hear the sound of the tiny bell, he spots you in the back corner with a stack of tapes under your arm. Listening to music. To drown him out. And it makes him frown. Six hours. That's how long he'd have to endure this, then he could go home and not call you and not be able to sleep.

The casette in your Walkman can only run for so long, right? But he watches you rewind it after an hour and a half and slumps against the front desk when you grab a new stack of tapes from behind him. He simmers down after the first half of the shift, and of course, the fact that you won't talk to him rubs him the wrong way, but what's even worse is that now you're bumming rides off of losers on the worst football team in all of Indiana.

He gets worked up thinking about that guy's motivation and how many times he probably tried to make a pass at you. Steve would never do that to you. Even if he wanted to, he's a gentleman at heart. He could beat that jerk to a pulp just imagining him giving you the look. God forbid that sucker puts his hands on you. Steve would get charged with battery before ever letting that happen.

It's not like he can say anything to you about it either. He's pissed, and he knows himself. He'd get all angry and confrontational, and you deserve better than that. It's his fault you got there first, and it's his fault you got to stocking, and it's his fault you're tuning him out. But he didn't think what he said last night would be worth all that trouble.

"If you keep up the optic blast, I'm gonna buy you a ruby-quartz visored monocle." And that droning voice could only belong to one overbearing manager.

"What do you need, Keith?" Steve grumbles, and out of the corner of his eye, he catches you looking to the front of the store to watch the encounter with a smirk.

"Duty calls, Harrington. Corporate sent us more shelf space. Need someone to unload it into the office," Keith murmurs, shooting a glance your way, "And, uh... it's kind of unwieldy, so get the kid to help you out."

It makes Steve's eye twitch because you're not some kid. And if you heard Keith refer to you as such, you'd unleash a fleet of curses on him. Only Steve is allowed to call you that. Because it's funny, duh. You're a year younger than him, obviously he's going to use that to his comedic advantage. Oh.

He lets out a sigh—"alright"—and leaves Keith to man the front while he skirts to the back of the store and leads you by the hand through the office.

"'The Hell, Harrington?" you hiss, but you keep your fingers locked between Steve's, abandoning the rest of the tapes on Keith's desk and jogging to catch up with his stride. As forward and demanding as his grip may be, you have to admit, the warmth of his palm is comforting and it makes your heart race because you've never held hands with Steve before. And in any other circumstance, you might've been able to enjoy it a little more.

"Keith told me to tell you that you have to help me bring a shelf in from the truck."

"Oh, I have to?" you bark, now pulling your hand away and putting your headphones around your neck once you exit through the back door with him. "And you didn't think to give me a warning before yanking on my arm?"

"Yes, you have to, and maybe if you weren't listening to that shit so loud, you would've been in the loop." It comes out far more harsh than he intended, and that was exactly what he was afraid of happening in a confrontation with you. His brow softens, and the tension in his upper back and jaw dissipates into his own self-pity party. "And I didn't yank on your arm. Or at least I didn't mean to, so I'm sorry for that much."

Steve hops up into the truck and offers you a hand you don't take as much as you both wish you would have. Because he looks like a kicked puppy, and you have to stop yourself from cheering yourself on. Maybe this will be your first literal step towards getting over him. Once and for all.

After about fifteen minutes of heaving and ho-ing, the two of you manage to haul the shelf into the office as per Keith's request. He was right: it was unwieldy. The awkward grip spots caused a lot of overlap, and you both flinched away from the physical contact in a matter of milliseconds. But Steve couldn't deny he felt bad, and you couldn't deny that you definitely still had feelings for him.

You grab your previously abandoned stack of tapes to scurry out of the office, but Steve stops you by the elbow. And you glare back at him.

"Sorry. The... yanking, I know"—he shoves his hands in his pockets and looks down—"Look, I'm not entirely sure what happened last night in the car, but it clearly made you uncomfortable, and I'd like to apologize."

He can see the neurons firing when he looks you in the eye, but he can also see that his apology wasn't effective in the slightest. Because you're still anger-ridden and fuming at him. You put your headphones on and go back to restocking shelves.

He checks the digital clock above the door. Two hours till eleven. Great.

And they creep by like refrigerated molasses. Second by second. Every time he glances at the clock, only a minute has passed. Eventually, though, he starts cleaning up for closing: vacuuming, cleaning the windows, fixing the display. And he finds himself getting a little more efficient at checking tapes back in and rewinding them only so you'll cruise by the front—scowling at him, but nonetheless at him—to grab a new stack and shelf it.

Five minutes to closing and a sleek, blue sedan pulls into the parking lot, and you practically beam at it, grinning and skipping to the front. You grab your bag from under the counter next to Steve's hip and shove your Walkman into it.

"You know, my car works perfectly fine," he grumbles, "don't have to replace me with some football jerk." He knows that struck a nerve because your smile immediately flickers away into a squint.

"That football jerk is bilingual, a painter, and lets me listen to the music I like in his car."

"But that's not the rules," he whines, desperately defending himself against some sports guy who's probably taking advantage of you.

"Well, I like him and he's nice to me." You sling your bag over your shoulder triumphantly, marching towards the door.

Steve is aghast at the implication. He thought you liked listening to the radio. Plus he took Spanish and art for the required two years, it's not that great of an achievement.

Still, he sputters out, "Yeah, well—"

You wave over your shoulder. "Later, Steve."

Since when did he become such a loser.

He watches jerk-face open the car door for you then glance over to wave at him with a perfect smile and perfect hair and perfect manners. What an asshole. Steve does not wave back.

—

"That's the kinda guy she likes?" he fusses into the phone, palming his face while Robin chuckles on the other line. This whole time he thought for sure you liked the self-assured, cocky, college-age boy type. And now you're dating a high schooler. Come on, jerk-face is not even that good looking.

"First of all, they're not dating. Second of all, don't lie to make yourself feel better; even I can admit he's basically a Greek god," Robin says, shoving a handful of popcorn into her mouth. "Third... why do you care? You’re acting like it’s your job to protect her, but it’s not. She’s an adult now, you know, she can take her of herself.”

He lets out a puff of air through his nose, blinking hard and leaning into the pale yellow receiver. Then mumbling: "She told you."

And she replies, cheerily: "Yup."

"Well—! I just... don't want to see her get hurt. I know that type of guy. I used to be that type of guy. He's bad news, I can tell."

"Right,” Robin scoffs, “It's definitely not because you love her.”

"I don't love her. She's just a baby, and we don't even like the same things. It would never work out between us, there's no connection." They both know it’s a lame excuse, but it’s worked up until this moment. It’s worked since the day you met. You’re too young, the end. Sure, you can be cute sometimes, but you’re also a pain in the ass and you two could never get along long enough to stitch together a real relationship.

But Robin sees through all of that shit. And she’s over it.

“Okay, maybe, but she listens when you talk about cars, and you buy the albums she likes even when she only mentions them once. Plus, you both love Dustin like he's an extra limb”—she’s right, you love that kid to death and Lord knows Steve looks after him like a son—“I think as much as you wretch and complain over her being too young and the connection not 'being there', it seems like you try an awful lot to get her to like you."

He immediately rejects the idea with a scoff.

"Of course I’d want a cool person to like me, old fuckin’ habits die hard. But that's all. She's cool and has a good sense of style and tells the best jokes and makes me feel smart and listens to me, and right now I'm feeling pretty crazy because maybe I do love her and I blew it because... because? Because I don’t know why—but she's probably sitting in some jerk's car listening to her favorite songs and watching him paint the sunset while speaking Spanish or whatever."

Robin closes her eyes, and Steve’s annoyed by the fact that he can hear her smirking. "Jesus Christ, I need to start charging you idiots for my time"—and she sighs—"Just... tell her all that cheese. And maybe throw in an apology or two. I don't know, do what you usually do when you pick up girls.”

He’s frustrated. And annoyed. But he throws a thanks at her anyway and stomps down the stairs and to his beamer. It’s not until he’s shrouded in the piercing light of the convenience store that he realizes three things: he’s still in his work uniform, it’s midnight, and he’s pretty sure he does love you. He grabs a bouquet, not even realizing it’s a bouquet of amaryllis and baby’s breath—he’d prefer roses, but ‘tis not the season, as the cashier told him.

Minutes later, he’s muttering under his breath like he’s mad, waiting for someone to answer your door. And thank God you do.

“Steve—?”

“Oh, shit, did I—were you—?”

“Oh, no, I was just…”—thinking about him—“nothin’. What’re you doing here?”

He pushes a furious hand through his hair, then tucks a chunk behind his ear, worrying at his bottom lip. More nervous than he’s been in his whole life. Then he flashes those soft brown eyes at you, and you’re toast. You step onto your doormat and shut the door behind you because he starts into his sentence like a blazing fire:

"I feel so stupid, and I’m sorry for saying you're like a little sister to me; I don’t believe that, and it couldn’t be further from the truth. You're not like a sister to me, you're like the only thing that matters and I feel like I wanna learn another language for you and take a cooking class for you and listen to your music with you. I just, I mean I’m trying to say you make me want to be a better person, and I feel like I’m already a better person whenever I’m around you. I... what I’m saying—and I promise I’m getting to it—is that I’m sorry for being so stupid and not seeing it before, but I think you're beautiful and I'd be honored if you'd forgive me and maybe consider letting me take you out sometime. Like on a date."

He’s breathing heavily, looking and feeling manic, and your eyes are wide as you slowly process his confession. It goes down like sweet wine, floral down your throat and settling in your tummy like candy. But still: what the fuck? Is he insane? Are you insane?

His hair is flopped to one side, and his work vest is snug around his shoulders. You step forward slowly, and the creases in his forehead seem to go smooth. And you point to the bouquet.

“For me?”

Steve glances down. "Oh, yeah, got em for you. Sorry they're not roses, it's not—"

"I love them, thank you."

He nods. And you smile. And despite how beautiful the soft pink and white flowers are, you’re not particularly focused on their safety when you hook your arms beneath his and rope him into a hug. It’s clearly just what he needed when he goes pliant and heavy against your chest, smiling into your neck as his hands wrap over your shoulders.

"I think we might both be stupid,” you whisper.

He chuckles. "Yup. Just a couple of stupids. Geez, what kinda pair are we?" You both pull away. Only to look at each other squarely. To see a smile creep and creep across the other’s face. And he cocks a brow and says, "By the way, worst twenty-four hours of my life—"

And that’s saying something after the last three years.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Steve, I was just so—"

"I know."

"So confused and disappointed, it was—"

"Torture, yeah, don't even think about doing that ever again,” he teases, pinching your side and scrunching his nose when you pinch him back.

"Yeah. Well, never tell me I’m like a little sister to you ever again.”

Gross.

"I don't plan on it"

With the slow bat of your lashes, and the tender curve of your lips, he can’t not think about kissing you. Not in this light. Not under the meddling moon, and not holding your waist like cupping pools of honey.

Then you look away. For all the shit you talk, he manages to make you far more shy than he ever anticipates. And it gives him butterflies to see you duck away.

"You know, I think you're pretty beautiful yourself, Harrington.”

Oh, he’s blushing now. The blood gushes hot to his face, he could sweat buckets right here and now. You can probably hear his heartbeat. Jesus Christ, what’ve you done to him? You can tell he’s nervous when he chuckles softly. "Does this mean I can start giving you rides again?"

You pretend to weigh your options. As if there would ever be a better alternative. "Only if you let me play my music sometimes.”

"Absolutely. I never liked the radio much anyway."

You let go of him only to cradle your bouquet in both hands, admiring the petals while Steve puts his hands back in his pockets.

"Then I'll see you later," he says. Grinning ear to ear, mind you.

"Yeah,” you coo, “I’ll see you."

With one hand on his shoulder, you plant a kiss on his willing cheek and let him go. But before he can make it to his car you holler, “Wait!” and he jogs back over to you.

"Did I forget somethin’?"

“Yeah,” you poke, "you forgot about our date."

He tilts his head a little, brows furrowed. "Our... our date? What do you mean our… Ohhhh”—he nods in understanding, suddenly hit with a wave of excitement and embarrassment—"Does tomorrow work? We could grab lunch or dinner or something and maybe stop by the arcade or—oh, the fair's in town, that could be kinda fun, unless you don't want to, I mean—"

"Steve?" you hum.

“Mhm?”

"I'd love to."

And suddenly his ego is miles through the roof; he's nodding and grinning and it’s like he can’t wait to wake up tomorrow just to see you again.

"Me too. Okay. Yeah! I'll see you then."

"Bye, Stevie.” You give him a small wave, and the shroud of plastic around the bouquet crinkles like the corners of his eyes at the idea of tomorrow.

masterlist

#steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #unrequited crush #stranger things #x reader #stranger things x y/n #stranger things x reader #fluff #steve harrington #st4 #stranger things 4 #x fem!reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x reader #angst #best friends to lovers #friends to lovers

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atierrorian · 10 months

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Can I please request headcanons of Trey, Jack, Jamil, Leona and Kalim reacting to their little sibling (Cheka in Leona's case) asking the reader if they can marry them?

Aww! This is such a wholesome request! Reminds me of one of my little cousins as well actually! And I am so sorry if this isn't your expectation! And OOC ofc.

•He was shocked, to say the least, and then it was funny!

•But he wasn't angry! No! He knows that little kids, like his sibling, would always ask that question, especially if they really like them.

•Trey finds it hilarious, especially seeing your reaction to that question and becoming flustered afterward!

•Plus, once his sibling grows up, he'll eventually find someone else to really love!

•And Trey is going to be the one marrying you someday! Just more into the future of course!

•Trey also just watches you patting his sibling's head and told him that they'll find someone else to marry instead of them.

•Overall Trey just finds it adorable that his sibling wants to marry you!

•Jack's reaction is also the same as Trey's but gets a little pouty! A jealous wolf is what we got.

•Of course Jack knows it's nothing to be jealous of! But he can't help it :(

•You see his reaction and you tell him that it's okay and that you'll be the one to marry him instead!

•Instant ears up and slight wagging! He is just so adorable along with his sibling!

•Kinda has a little competition with his little sibling, but it's all just for fun and nothing harmful of course! He could never hurt his own sibling.

•And overall Jack could get a little pouty but would refuse to admit it! And also he's going to be the one to marry you! In the future of course.

•He just sighs and plays along with it

•He knows how little kids can act, and one of those acts include those, like asking to marry you yk?

•But he does have to admit, he did got kinda jealous when they announced out loud they wanted to marry you!

•And just kinda yk, pouts and looks away while you play with the sibling! It's an adorable sight really.

•Of course you notice him kinda jealous and laugh while telling him that you'll marry him, in the future ofc. That kinda made him feel better!

•Overall Jamil just kinda goes along with it even though he feels kindaaaa jealous...

•Haha! No.

•First of all, he'll separate Cheka from you and just hogs you basically!

•He gets jealous from Cheka and Leona just hugs you while having a staring contest with Cheka as you awkwardly laugh...

•Leona loves his nephew! Truly he does, he loves you too much as well and wants to be the one to marry you! He doesn't exactly say it out loud though, but you know he loves you!

•Leona's tail will swing from side to side and looking annoyed while you laugh at his behavior and calling him slightly immature for acting like this. He did not take it so lightly.

•Overall, he will be jealous but he doesn't have any dislikes towards Cheka! He's just a big cat basically.

•He is the most positive one here!

•We all know how Kalim is. He doesn't mind that one of his sibling asked you to marry them! He finds it adorable and plays along!

•Kalim loves his siblings to bits! And he loves you to bits as well! He isn't going to be negative of course, no! Kalim ain't like that yk?

•He understands how kids can be and he just finds it adorable! Especially your reaction! He thinks it's the cutest!

•You just sigh at these antics, you don't mind it at all! Actually, you kinda find it cute and funny!

•Overall, Kalim ain't petty over something like this, he understands and he just finds it adorable!

AHHH! DONE! I am so sorry that this was short! This was all I could think of! Forgive me! I am quite busy so I didn't exactly have enough time to write! And because I didn't had any motivation and this was kinda rush! But I still hope you enjoyed it!

#atier's works✎#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #Trey Clover x reader #Jack howl x reader #Jamil viper x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #Kalim al asim x reader

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colourstreakgryffin · 2 months

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hey there honey! i'm here to request deerest alastor meeting a blitzo-like gn! reader fic if that's alright with you;) ( by that I mean either the reader with blitzo's story/persona/both if you wish. )

the genre? fluff, angst- anything, really. i kinda just wanna see how one would think they'd interact !

basically, i'm fine with anything, i do love a good surprise haha . it's rather more interesting;)

on a sidenote; i actually got this idea after watching some snippets of our boy and by recalling our conversation earlier. so i was hoping to see what's in store for our beloved if al were to ever cross paths with someone like him.

for an afterthought- man, i must say that i absolutely cherish this emo guy now.

( this could be platonic, or romantic; whatever you think fits for this shot/anything that is to your liking! )

hopefully this ask wasn't too confusing, and that you're fine with it. thank you, have a great day<3

Y E S! I love Blitzø from Helluva Boss so this duo will be so interesting! Alastor will have quite the difficulty to deal with a Blitzø! Leitora but yet, he will like them!

Alastor- Chaotic I.M.P

General

Alastor has such the passive-aggressive, crude, snarky, prickly Imp to handle. He doesn’t do that well but he also doesn’t shut said Imp out for the way they are… it’s just rough

Alastor’s patience is both worn out and stretched over further with you, the head of I.M.P and the royalty of being so immature and blood-thirsty. A assassin that’s trigger happy, and he isn’t sure how long he can stay calm with you

Alastor finds you interesting. Your mouth is vulgar but you’re actually very intelligent in your work and you rile up your little employee group very well. How fascinating, he considers studying you to figure out how native demons like yourself act

Alastor likes teasing you about your much shorter height and tugging you on your long tail. Both are methods to piss you off and maybe methods to make you pay attention to him as well

Most HCs of platonic can also apply to romantic then a few HCs of romantic can apply to platonic!

Platonic

Alastor doesn’t know how to react to the fact you’re constantly stalking him and following him around. You envy his relaxed, happy self and craves exactly what he has so you regularly watch him. All the times he’s caught you filming him… too many times

Alastor finds you hilarious. Your violent, dark sense of humour actually makes him chuckle and he encourages you to feel confident in what makes you laugh. It makes him laugh so it’s simply perfect

Alastor likes to tease you even more than he already does. Annoy you, piss you off, squeeze your face inbetween fingers to lead you on. It’s all so amusing and the way you bark out with rage at this has his day fixed instantly

Alastor does speak honestly about his own issues with you. He trusts you, you’re like the other friends he has, he may have known them specifically longer but he feels like he can be himself around you. You’re not that bad after all

Alastor finds it pretty cute that you have your own Hellhound child. You have a 22 year old Hellhound son/daughter/child and you’re so loving and affectionate to that Hellhound. He just watches it from the sideline, smiling widely and planning how to use this against you to mess with you

Alastor invites you out to hangouts regularly. To clubs, to drinking bars. Anywhere where it’s just you and him, and you two can just let loose by having drinking contests that end in Alastor slamming alcohol like a sailor and struggling to keep up with you on the dancefloor

Alastor will let you touch him with it seems fit but he doesn’t mind you randomly touching him. He likes you, you’re a wonderful snarky little Imp so he can excuse any type of touch, any time

Alastor’s smile and personality is more natural around his Imp friend and he treats all his friends equally so when you’re around, he’s smiling, giddy and sweet just like he is with other friends like Rosie, Mimzy

Alastor is the type of ‘I’ll do something for you at the right price’ friend. Give him what he wants and he’ll do a favour for you, he may like you as a friend but he wants to establish that you’re just like his other friends and you’re not that special at all

“Ah. My dear, this Hotel and my home is for everybody, including yourself. Feel free to get comfortable and we can chat more later”

Romantic

Alastor knows of your intimacy and commitment problems, and since he really likes this cute small gun-wielding badass imp more than he could suspect, he is willing to wait for you to get more comfortable with and trusting of him. Hence what actually fires up the relationship you two share

Alastor is extremely protective over you: you’re a mortal demon, he’s immortal. You can die, he already died and now immune to fatal blows. And the fact you’re an assassin that takes care of humans as well. You have the Radio Demon on your beck-and-call, and goddamn, how glad you are that you’re dating Al. You have a loving, doting but also scolding and cautious boyfriend right there to save your flank

Alastor expresses his loyalty, love and respect through that way he acts around you, giving you whatever you want free of charge, gifting you all kinds of presents, constantly writing you name on random pieces of paper or even the Hotel walls, being smitten of you around the Hotel staff. He can’t get you out of his head

Alastor loves carrying you around. You’re so small but you’re so squishy and cuddly, day or night. He loves hugging you to his chest and carrying you around, you’re smaller than Niffty and he’s living for it! You can be asleep and he’ll keep wondering around with you in his arms bridal style

Alastor is half for I.M.P, half not. The reason he isn’t is because he doesn’t want this psycho humans laying their hands on you and the reason he is is because he loves seeing you happy and he wants you to express your passions so he tries his best to be as supportive as he can

Alastor may or may not be the one taking care of you. You let loose sometimes after bad situations and he is the one reassuring you he’ll always be there, he won’t let you die alone and he’ll always be with you. He loves you and he wants you happy and healthy

Alastor’s ideas of a romantic date is to a nice restaurant, all dressed-up and bonding over simple conversation. Yeah, he isn’t the most ‘interesting’ date-planner but his vanilla tastes are so much better than anybody could ever suspect. You bond with Alastor very well with every date

Alastor enjoys bragging about you. He brags about you on his radio show and even promotes your business, I.M.P. He is going to show who you belong to and he’ll even mark you more… physically, if he must. You’re his and he won’t let any chance that somebody will try to steal you away

Alastor is an affectionate boyfriend and when I mean affectionate, I mean lovey-dovey, complimentary and touchy. He loves giving you kisses, holding you in his lap, giving you hugs, holding your hand all the time. He loves holding you, you’re so sweet and cute

“Darling. You should be a lot more careful… I wouldn’t do well without you, so please. Do both of us a favour and do not charge into battle recklessly… please? For this poor lovestruck little deer?”

Alastor also might just try figure out how to make you immortal so you’ll stay with him for all of Hell’s time

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bones4thecats · 8 months

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Hello ^-^ may I please request the housewarden's reactions to their s/o working REALLY hard on a paper for a school contest, but it gets stolen and turned in by someone else. On top of that, the paper wins the contest and the thief gets the credit. Thank you in advance ❤️

A/N: Apologies that this took so long to write, I've been getting ready for my classes starting up again. But I do hope you enjoy this Anon!!

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❤️ Riddle knew you were working hard on this next assignment, and it made him very happy to see you finally taking a lot of time to make the paper perfect. And seeing your nose scrunch up in concentration made him chuckle inside.

❤️ Without your knowledge, your tart-loving boyfriend had read you paper, and he swore on the inside that this was going to be the winning paper! It was so good, the way you explained the topic was amazing!!

❤️ He had expected you to run back to the dorm with a very happy look, which seeing you frowning was something he did not expect in the slightest.

❤️ Hearing about the student who dared to do this to you made his blood boiled, if his cherry-red face didn't scream 'behead trial', welp!

❤️ Riddle obviously yelled at the student and beheaded him, along with informing the headmaster and contest's leaders about the 'incident', which, because of his reputation, they got punished severely for this.

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🦁 This lion could care less, at least that's what he says. Seeing you work tirelessly away on this paper was quite hilarious to him, he didn't even put that much effort in his familial relationships!

🦁 He didn't doubt you abilities to write, which is what he did enjoy you for, as if he was having a hard time sleeping somehow, he would just read a short story you wrote, it was like a bedtime story for adults!

🦁 When he heard from Ruggie about what happened, he was angry, just not visibly. He walked up to you and asked who it was before sending out another Savanaclaw student to retrieve the 'victorious' bastard who dared to hurt his S/O.

🦁 Leona didn't even have to use his fists against the student who had used your hard work, all he did was glare and scold them in a far more violent manner than the previous did.

🦁 Afterwards, he just lets you stay the night and sleeps the night and parts of the next day with you.

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🐙 Azul is a hard-working man, octo-mer? Whatever! He had built his life of his effort and amazing social skills, he can read people like open books, and he definitely understood how hard it is to win something of this caliber.

🐙 Your boyfriend was someone that you had read the article over and over, making sure it sounded good and flowed like, in your words, the sea that he swam in.

🐙 He had expected you to get the first place because of how excellent it was made, but when you came back alongside Jade and Floyd attempting to hold your emotions back, he immediately understood.

🐙 He had seen the student parading himself around the hallways alongside his buddies, laughing about how easy the mission was and how he was finally going to get the spotlight he deserved. Though, Azul could careless at the time, he recognized the paper once he saw you and sent the twins off to 'assist the student in manners'.

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☀️ Kalim is a very devoted lover, so, even when you were busy writing this paper for the contest, he was right there next to you, reading whilst you wrote the words down.

☀️ He wanted to appoint Jamil to help you out, because normally Jamil would help him out on a difficult subject, but every time you turned his offer down, he learned to just accept it and watch the words flow down on the papers.

☀️ Seeing you cry was something Kalim never liked, he loved seeing others smile and have fun, not sobbing their eyes out. So when you came running into his room crying, he grabbed onto you like a piece of tape to your fingers and didn't let go.

☀️ Eventually, he sent Jamil to grab the student, which he gladly did, knowing how much you were valued by the Al-Asim heir, and let's just say they weren't spared from a rare Kalim-yelling.

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👑 It was hard to make anything for Vil, but with this subject, he'd be not in an average, 'Vil is angry' mode, he'd be in a whole different level of pissed off.

👑 Because of how much he values his beauty, he would make sure whilst you spent hours upon hours on the paper that he'd check you face for any markings from concentrating and staring at the dreaded screen. (if you wrote it on a computer)

👑 He knew you would win the contest, you were his S/O after all, why wouldn't your effort prove victorious?

👑 Vil didn't see you immediately, in fact, he had heard from Rook that someone had stolen your paper and submitted it, and in the end, winning the contest without being caught, which caused him to freeze and glare at the hunter, obviously not mad at him, but at the person who did this heinous action.

👑 If they were in his dorm, he'd punish them accordingly, but if they were in another member's dorm, he'd speak with them and eventually trap them into punishing the guilty student with as much power as they would use.

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🎮 Idia was one of the first to see this happening, but he couldn't react accordingly, at least, the way 'normies' would.

🎮 He had seen you at his door the next day after submitting the paper that you had work graciously on and he believed you were attempting to trick him with the 'fake sadness to shock' trick.

🎮 Well you weren't, and that scared him tremendously.

🎮 Who would do this to you?! You were literally the nicest person he had ever met! And, thankfully from his availability to the school's cameras, he found out who did it and ended up sending the video to the contest's heads anonymously

🎮 This Shroud brother may be a very shy and reclusive person (don't tell him I said that, he'll flush and get upset again), but when it comes to the people he cares about, Idia would go through a massive crowd for them all.

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●

🐉 Malleus has no words.

🐉 He valued your hard work nearly more than anything really, it was fitting, as you were with him, and in turn, were destined to rule Briar Valley alongside this powerful dragon fae.

🐉 It surprising that somebody had the balls to face any potential harm by hurting you. Everybody has seen you and Malleus talking in either the halls or in Diasomnia's main lobby, so hearing about this was shocking.

🐉 Malleus definitely has Lilia stay with you, unless you requested his presence. If you did the latter, he'd send out Silver and/or Sebek to find the certain student who did this and would give them the scariest warning ever.

🐉 If you allowed him to confront the student himself, he'd have Lilia (most likely) stay with you as he hunted them down like a hawk.

🐉 Either way, the student gets the shit scared outta them. There's no stopping him here.

#Twisted Wonderland #Twst #NRC #Night Raven College #Twst x Reader #Twisted Wonderland x Reader #NRC x Reader #Night Raven College x Reader #S/O! Reader #GN! Reader #NRC! Reader #Dorm Leaders #Dorm Leaders x Reader

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