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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

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Prompt~ hoping you'll like it ♥️

Things between the Nie brothers are not always nice and happy, they fight, just like any other pair of brothers, and sometimes things are said, sometimes these things are heavy and painful. Sometimes they're said in the wrong moment (maybe at the eve of a battle? Sunshot campaign?) and huaisang doesn't know what to do with the broken look his brother gives him before leaving the unclean realm. Because what if he doesn't return? What if the last thing he said to him was how much he hated the man he became?

Labyrinth - ao3

“But I didn’t mean to wish him away!” Nie Huaisang cried out.

“That’s really too bad,” the goblin king said, looking pleasant and humble and charming the way he always did, even in his cape of glittering gold and high-browed hat. “I wish there was something I could do for you, but the rules are the rules. You wished him away, and I took him.”

“Aren’t you supposed to only take babies?” Nie Huaisang demanded.

“Your brother’s enough of a crybaby to count, it’s close enough.”

“It is not!” Nie Huaisang wrung his hands. “You don’t understand, the last thing I said to him was that I hated him! Meng Yao, please!”

“It’s Jin Guangyao,” the goblin king corrected. His smile looked a bit strained. “Listen, do you think I’m happy about this? He’s my sworn brother! I’m only doing what I have to –”

“Oh, save it for Lan Xichen,” Nie Huaisang growled. “Show me the labyrinth already.”

“You’re going to face the labyrinth,” the goblin king said. His voice was very polite, and yet still expressed significant doubt. “You.”

“Yeah, me!”

“You remember that it goes ‘through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered’, right? Not ‘through a nice teacher and a forgiving grading system’?”

“Yeah, well, your father is a fragging aardvark. Let me at the labyrinth already!”

“You know what,” Nie Huaisang said thoughtfully. “Thanks, but no thanks.”

The life-sized animated puppet blinked at him. “You – don’t want my help?”

“Nope. I’m good.”

“You haven’t even gotten into the labyrinth yet!”

“It wouldn’t be fair if I didn’t have a chance to get in,” Nie Huaisang said, patting around his sleeve and pulling out a fan. “So I’m just going to walk over and beat at the wall till something happens.”

The puppet followed him, staring blankly. Quite a change from his original apologetic ‘I’m sorry, I’m busy with my own things, I really can’t help you, also it’s too dangerous and you shouldn’t go’ response.

“You were blackmailing me to help you just a moment ago,” the puppet said after a little. “Don’t you need a guide?”

“Listen, I’m bad at memorizing things and I’m a little useless, but I’m not actually dumb,” Nie Huaisang said, fanning himself. “Jin Guangyao is a demon of the mind above all else, and the labyrinth is supposed to be ‘fair’ – which means, more than likely, that the labyrinth is a reflection of the subconscious, specially tailored to each person’s strengths and weaknesses. And that means that you, who sound exactly like Lan Xichen, are almost certainly a set-up sent by Jin Guangyao to ‘reluctantly’ aid me and then betray me.”

“Uh,” Lan Xichen-the-puppet said. “My name’s Hoggle, actually.”

“Whatever makes you feel better, er-ge…A-ha!” Nie Huaisang beamed at the gates that automatically opened. “Perfect!”

“Oh, don’t go that way,” the worm said. “Never go that way. And are you sure you don’t want to come in for a cup of tea?”

“No time,” Nie Huaisang said. “Thanks a lot – wait.”

The worm blinked at him.

“You’re a pretty attractive worm, in a slimy sort of way,” Nie Huaisang said, frowning at him.

The worm blinked again. “Why, thanks!”

“No, that’s not what I meant. Is your name Su She, by chance?”

“Definitely not!”

“Mm. Oddly vehement of you. Never mind. Just, quick, could you tell me exactly why do I not want to go that way?”

“I don’t suppose straight ahead is an option?”

The hands-faces stared at him.

“I’m just saying, I feel like most of my problems so far have come from the fact that I decided to accept the whole concept of turns. It seems like a mistake.”

“…it’s a labyrinth,” another set of the hands said. “You have to make turns!”

Nie Huaisang shook his head mournfully. “I should’ve brought Baxia or something and just – ZIP. Gone straight through. You know what I mean?”

“I’m dropping you in the oubliette regardless of your decision,” the first set of the hands said. It sounded a bit like Sect Leader Yao. “Just so you know.”

“My life is so hard,” Nie Huaisang sighed. “So hard! Do you know what it’s like to be overlooked by everyone? Do you know how hard I have to work at being this useless?”

“Drop him,” the set of hands that sounded like Sect Leader Ouyang said, and the set of hands that sounded like Sect Leader Yao said, “Yes. Now!”

Down Nie Huaisang went.

“I can take you back to the beginning of the labyrinth,” Lan Xichen offered.

“What, and waste all that time? I have a time limit, er-ge!”

“It’s better than being stuck in an oubliette. That’s where they put people to forget about them, you know.”

Nie Huaisang’s eyes filled with tears. “You want to forget me, er-ge? You think I’m useless, don’t you? A good-for-nothing, who’ll never amount to anything –”

“Please don’t cry.”

“ER-GE! WHY DON’T YOU LOVE ME!”

“Please stop crying!”

“So what’s the point of you?” Nie Huaisang asked the Wise Man with the Talking Hat.

“Not everyone exists to contribute to your storyline,” the Talking Hat snapped at him. “Some of us’ve got our own problems. Now hand over the candy!”

“Don’t be mean,” the Wise Man said. He had a white cloth over his eyes, and was smiling like he found the hat funny.

“Awww, but daozhang…!”

“Different plotline entirely, I guess,” Nie Huaisang decided. “Probably just here as a foil. Shall we keep going, er-ge?”

“I can’t believe you scammed me to get out of the oubliette,” Lan Xichen mumbled. “I can’t believe…”

“Oh, leave him alone, he’s just sensitive!” Nie Huaisang snapped.

“Am not!” the upside-down creature snarled, curled up on itself and trying to hide from all those that had been hitting him. Its fur was a vivid sort of purple. “Go away!”

“Don’t you have some sort of special power to help you here,” Nie Huaisang asked him as he tried to get him down before the goblins came back with weapons. “Rocks, maybe?”

“…lightning?”

“Well then get to it, will you?” Nie Huaisang frowned. “Wait. Lightning, constantly being tormented, terrible at communication, and purple? You’re Jiang Cheng, aren’t you?”

“…maybe.”

“Well then get down faster! I need to copy someone’s notes here!”

“Leave me aloooooooone!” Nie Huaisang howled, running away from the measuring snake.

“Wow,” Lan Xichen said, holding his cheek. “You kissed me.”

“You saved me from the snakes,” Nie Huaisang said. “Can we focus on how we’re in this awful stinking bog?”

“It’s not that bad!” a voice piped up. “I don’t smell anything!”

Nie Huaisang turned to stare, then pinched the bridge of his nose. “Of course you don’t,” he said. “I bet the total absence of a sense of smell helps when you eat spicy food, Wei-xiong.”

“There’s nothing wrong with spicy food!”

“You’re short,” Nie Huaisang informed the small goblin-like creature with the big grin and the red ribbon in its hair. It looked vaguely fox-like, or possibly like certain large breeds of rabbit.

“Why you..!” Wei Wuxian crossed his furry little paws over his chest. “Just for that, I’m not going to help you.”

“Uh-huh,” Nie Huaisang said. “Really. That’s awful…oh no! A dog!”

Wei Wuxian jumped high into the air. “A dog?! Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan! Save me!”

Much to Nie Huaisang’s surprise, a furry dog immediately darted out of nowhere – only Wei Wuxian didn’t seem afraid of it, but rather hid behind it, teeth chattering.

Truly, Nie Huaisang reflected, the eyes of love are blind.

“I think the ‘dog’ is gone now,” he said. “Your brave and noble Lan Wangji must’ve scared him away.”

Wei Wuxian’s head popped out from behind dog-Wangji. “Well, Lan Zhan is really cool…hey. Are you trying to manipulate me?”

“Is it working?”

“No!”

“So you won’t help me?”

“No!”

“Not even if it means you get to figure out a really tricky puzzle?”

“No – wait. A puzzle?”

“I can’t believe this is going to work,” Lan Xichen muttered from behind Nie Huaisang. “I mean, I can. But also…Wangji…I love you, but you could do so much better than this.”

“Ugh,” Nie Huaisang said. “I’m so thirsty.”

“Have some Emperor’s Smile,” Lan Xichen said, offering a jar.

“Amazing,” Nie Huaisang said, accepting it and taking a swing. “I had my doubts, you know, but you’re actually good for something after all, er-ge –”

The golden bird was Nie Huaisang’s favorite.

He’d worked so hard to bring it back to his aviary – it couldn’t be forced, he knew; it would play along at first but in the end it would turn on you and bite you. It had to be coaxed with gentleness and kindness, approached indirectly so as not to spook it, convince it that you really did mean well – that you were harmless, that it had no reason to fear you. It was arrogant, too, proud of its shining feathers and ashamed of the brown plumage of its chick days, which still remained visible on its tender underbelly. Ironically, that was Nie Huaisang’s favorite part of it, the soft and gentle part; it might not be as pretty as the gold, but it felt more genuine.

Nie Huaisang smiled as he brushed the beautiful feathers, and the golden bird allowed him. He felt cherished, treasured. So what if he had to hide all the sharp parts of himself to get this close?

It was fine. He didn’t like to be sharp.

He wanted to be soft. Soft and gentle, careless and free, relaxed and without effort, good for nothing –

Wait.

No!

“It’s all junk,” Nie Huaisang hissed at the pile of burning fans, tears in his eyes. “I want my da-ge!”

“You’re all right!” Wei Wuxian exclaimed, helping pulled Nie Huaisang up.

“Huaisang-xiong,” Jiang Cheng said, looking relieved. “You’re back.”

“We have to go to the temple beyond the Goblin City,” Nie Huaisang said, teeth gritted together. “We have to. I won’t let that bastard…we’re going to go there and throw all his damned tricks right in his face!”

“Just us?” Wei Wuxian asked. “I mean, I’m awesome, Lan Zhan is fantastic, and of course Jiang Cheng is great, too, but…uh…there’s a lot of goblins in the city.”

“We’ll sneak in,” Nie Huaisang said. “He thinks he’s sidelined me entirely – he thinks I’m useless. He won’t be expecting me to get this far.”

“I can get help,” Jiang Cheng said. “I have friends.”

“…not to be rude, Jiang-xiong,” Nie Huaisang said. “But – really?”

“You know what,” Nie Huaisang said, eyeing the pile of rocks following Jiang Cheng around, each one painted with a name. One of the names was yellow. Two were in white, with forehead ribbons. “This is fine. I feel like it says something really rude about my empathy for and interest in our junior generation, or lack thereof, but you know what? I don’t care. It’s fine.”

“You saved me,” Nie Huaisang said blankly, looking at Lan Xichen, who shrugged, abashed. The remains of the mechanical temple guard were scattered all over. “Over – him?”

“Huaisang –”

“No,” Nie Huaisang said, holding up his hands. “Don’t. Don’t…I don’t want to hear you talk.”

Lan Xichen’s head dropped down and he looked at the ground. “You knew from the beginning what I was like,” he murmured. “I never tried to hide it –”

“I forgive you for being what you are,” Nie Huaisang told him, and Lan Xichen looked up at him, startled and pleased. “I forgive you for not having the backbone to stand up against Jin Guangyao for me – or for da-ge. For being willfully blind for so long, for needing someone else’s proof of his ill-intentions, for always picking him first, for never trusting me…I forgive you, even if you’d never forgive me for the same.”

He dashed away the angry tears in his eyes.

“I just wish this wasn’t a fucking metaphor.”

Nie Huaisang left the fighting to the people who knew what to do – Wei Wuxian, Lan Wangji, Jiang Cheng, even the rock-juniors – and went to the temple at the center of the city alone.

Some things, he knew, needed to be done alone, even if it was the type of alone when you were surrounded by other people. Even when those other people stood by his side and made him promise that if he needed them, he would only need to call. Some things…

“I want my da-ge back,” he said to the maze of stairs.

“Then go and find him,” Jin Guangyao replied, looking smug, and Nie Huaisang had to go up and down all those fucking stairs, because Jin Guangyao was nothing if not predictable with his trauma, looking all over, looking for –

Looking for pieces.

“It’s just a metaphor,” he whispered to himself, ignoring how tears were streaming down his face. “It’s just – I need to put him back together, it’s fine. I’m not too late – I’m not too late –”

Jin Guangyao held Nie Mingjue’s head in his hands, blinded and gagged and bound with talismans, pulled out of whatever oubliette he'd shoved it into to forget about what he'd done. “Beware, Huaisang,” he said, still smiling. Always smiling. “I’ve been generous up until now, but I can be cruel.”

Nie Huaisang laughed, scoffing. “Generous? What have you done for me that’s generous?”

“Everything! Everything you’ve wanted, I’ve done – I cared for you, I gave you attention, I got you out of work, doing your schoolwork for you and coming up with excuses to get you out of saber training. I gave you presents, fans and pretty clothing, and when that brute of a brother of yours tried to take them from you, I rescued you. And then I even managed your sect for you, answered all of your questions, any time you had – Huaisang, I’m exhausted trying to live up to your expectations of me. Isn’t that generous?”

Nie Huaisang bared his teeth. “Half of those are burdens that only fell on me because of you. Why should it matter to me that cleaning up your own mess and satisfying your own guilt is hard? Why should I pay such a price when all I wanted was to be your friend? When all da-ge wanted was to be your friend? How dare you, Meng Yao!”

“Huaisang…” Jin Guangyao shook his head mournfully. “Huaisang, the last step here is to say the words to break the spell. But you were never good at memorization, were you?”

Nie Huaisang bit his lip until he drew blood.

“Through dangers untold, and hardships unnumbered,” he said. “I have fought my way here to the temple beyond the goblin city –”

“Huaisang, stop! Look at what you’re risking here. You know how everyone loves me – do you think anyone will forgive you for taking me down, for tricking them all? You’ll be all alone!”

I already am, Nie Huaisang thought.

“My will is as strong as yours,” he said. “And my kingdom is as great…”

His voice trailed off.

“I ask for so little,” Jin Guangyao said beseechingly, convincingly, looking just like he always did, like the man who'd been their friend. “Just let me fool you, and you can have anything you want. No responsibilities, no stress, a life of your own. You can even have Lan Xichen, if that’s what you want…”

What’s the last line, Nie Huaisang thought, hating himself for being such a poor student, for cramming things into his mind without any order, for never being able to retain a single drop of it no matter how hard he tried. What is it? Why can’t I ever remember?

“It’d be so easy,” Jin Guangyao crooned. “Much easier than this. Just fear me, love me, believe me, and I’ll be your slave.”

Sharp teeth in a false smile.

Nie Huaisang shook in terror. He couldn’t – his da-ge needed him – he couldn’t be afraid, couldn’t be a coward, couldn’t be good-for-nothing – couldn’t let Jin Guangyao win – couldn’t let him –

That was it.

Nie Huaisang raised his head until his eyes met his enemy’s.

Sensing something wrong, Jin Guangyao’s eternal smile dimmed, and he began to step forward, reaching out, but it was too late.

“You have no power over me,” Nie Huaisang declared, and the world within a world collapsed.

Nie Huaisang opened his eyes.

Nie Huaisang sat in his desk in the Unclean Realm, trying to amuse himself by trying to figure out what exactly he’d eaten the night before that had given him such bizarre dreams. It was not successful, on account of him being alone.

Alone, just as he had been every night, and every day as well, since the success of his scheme at the Guanyin Temple.

Just as the dream-Jin Guangyao had threatened.

It wasn’t that Nie Huaisang regretted what he had done – the dream was clear enough about that; he’d do it all again in a heartbeat if he had to. But in the dream he’d been working alongside his former friends, with Lan Xichen betraying but then returning to him, with Wei Wuxian dragging Lan Wangji around, with stone-faced Jiang Cheng and the rather interchangeable junior squad behind him…and in his dream, in the end, they’d let him go to take his revenge, telling him that if he needed them for any reason, he could just call.

Just call, and they’d come back to him. Instead of turning from him in disgust, they’d stand by his side…

“Stupid subconscious,” Nie Huaisang mumbled to himself. “What do you expect? That I'd write to them and say ‘for no real reason at all, I find that I rather need you’?”

Silence answered him.

“Well, I do,” he said with a sigh, putting his chin on his hands. “Does that make you happy? I do need you.”

“You do?” Wei Wuxian’s voice rang out, and Nie Huaisang jumped nearly out of his skin. “Well, why didn’t you say so?”

Nie Huaisang turned, staring: it was Wei Wuxian at the door, the human version of him, and of course there was Lan Wangji right before him, and Jiang Cheng, and the (still mostly interchangeable) juniors, and – and even Lan Xichen, who Nie Huaisang was sure had gone into seclusion with no intent to leave.

“What are you doing here?” Nie Huaisang squeaked. And why hadn’t any of his sect disciples warned him?

“We just bullied our way though the door before anyone could stop us,” Wei Wuxian said cheerfully, answering the unspoken question first. “As for the rest – it turns out that I had the strangest dream the other night, really, truly bizarre, and obviously I had to tell Lan Zhan all about it, except it turned out he had a strange dream too.”

Nie Huaisang’s jaw dropped. “But –”

“I felt da-ge’s qi woven into the labyrinth,” Lan Xichen said quietly. “I thought it’d have long ago dissipated or been locked away, but – it was there, in every stone, in every turn. Every obstacle that didn’t really hurt you, every goblin that was more silly than scary…he was there. It was unmistakable.”

Nie Huaisang swallowed. The story of the labyrinth, baby-stealing wish-granting goblin king and all, had been one that Nie Mingjue had told him as a bedtime story, when he'd been a child in need of comfort; he hadn’t thought of it in years before last night. “But…why…?”

“Because Chifeng-zun has a demented sense of humor?” Jiang Cheng suggested, looking irritated.

“Jiujiu means that he hasn’t had that much fun in years, and also that you should throw a party,” Jin Ling said. “You are hosting all three of the sect leaders of all the other Great Sects. Also, why were we rocks?”

“Uh, no idea,” Nie Huaisang said. “Da-ge’s weird sense of humor, no doubt! Anyway, did you say party? I can do a party!”

He rushed out of the room, calling for his servants, calling for them to bring food and wine and tea, and as he did, he looked out of the window – a golden bird was flying away, looking hunted as if something was chasing it, and even as he watched, it crossed the borders of the Unclean Realm and suddenly dissolved into a fizzle of golden dust.

Nie Huaisang put his hand on the stone wall, and felt a familiar echo.

A very familiar echo.

“Oh,” he said, to his servants, feeling somehow simultaneously sheepish and filled with joy. “And while you’re at it, can you bring me my saber? I seem to have – misplaced it…”

#mdzs #nie huaisang #jin guangyao #lan xichen #jiang cheng #wei wuxian #lan wangji #su she #sect leader yao #sect leader ouyang #xiao xingchen #xue yang #my fic #my fics #labyrinth

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mrsdeanwinchester19 · 3 years

Text

The Dinner-Sequel to The Interview

Pairing: Steve x reader

Word Count: 3k

Summary: Sequel to The Interview. Steve takes his wife to meet his team after her interview

Warnings: None

“Steve, do you think this dress is ok?” I ask, coming out of our walk-in closet wearing my lace, off the shoulder red dress. Steve is taking me to dinner with the team tonight, so I want to make a good first impression. Most people would think I’ve met the team before, but Steve kept our relationship a secret in the beginning and then the team broke up because of the Accords and we got married when we were on the run, so we really couldn’t invite any of the team members.

We had our wedding in Norway, one of the few countries that hadn’t signed the Accords. They claimed they didn’t sign because if a non-government owned unit made from people from different countries called the Alsos Unit hadn’t helped them in World War II, the Germans would have succeeded in creating an Atomic bomb in their country. In Norway, there was one team member, Thor, who was visiting Earth; he vouched for us.

After our wedding, we went to Wakanda on our honeymoon and visited Bucky. We had been having dinner with Bucky, T’Challa, and Shuri when we told him we got married. He was upset that he couldn’t be there, but he understood when he found out the wedding happened when he was asleep. When he said Steve could make it up to him by naming his first son James; Steve started choking on his Umqombothi drink. I know Steve wants kids, but he wasn’t willing to have them while being on the run. Now that we’re not hiding, we’re actively trying for a baby. I wonder if tonight he’ll break the news that he has a wife AND is trying to get said wife pregnant.

As I walk out of the closet, I bend down to adjust the ankle strap on my right heel. I stand back up, smooth my dress, and look up at Steve. He’s staring at me with a dopey smile on his face, love evident in his eyes. “The dress itself is fine, you make it look perfect.”

“Ugh, Steve, quit it with the cheesy lines,” I protest while blushing. Men used to say these things to their wives and girlfriends back in their time, it’s why Steve and Bucky can be prince charming when they want to be. Bucky more often than Steve now that he’s more like his old self, or so Steve says.

“I’m just being honest,” he defends, shrugging his shoulders. He comes over to me and wraps his arms around my waist. “You nervous?”

“What do you think?” I ask rhetorically. I haven’t been this nervous since I first met Steve. In 2014, during a career conference once for journalists, the resort we were at was seized by terrorists. One of my coworkers and I were the only ones from The New York Sun attending, despite the fact that it was in New York. I suppose they only wanted to go if the convention was out of town so they could get out of work and go on vacation. We were held in the resort’s Grand Hall for hours until the Avengers were able to save us. There was a pretty big fight between Steve, Thor, Iron Man, Hawkeye, Black Widow, and the terrorists but luckily no one died. I had been hurt in the kerfuffle, a broken finger, but after Steve wrapped my finger in a brace, he allowed me to interview him. During the on-camera interview with him, Thor was teasing him in the background, doing silly faces and the “blah blah blah” hand motion.

Steve had asked for my name and number to “keep in touch and see if my finger heals correctly”. When I gave it to him, he wrote it down in an old-fashioned address book. I hadn’t expected him to call me ever, but he did, asking for a date. At first, he was weary of me being a journalist, in case things ended badly and I wrote a bad article about him. However, a year later, he was thankful I was a journalist because I had access to all archived articles about the Winter Soldier. After that happened, I knew he trusted me wholeheartedly and I felt the same. When the Accords started happening, I had access to the signing, to interview government people about it, and relayed that information to Steve about who he could trust. That was how I found out about Norway not signing.

“They’ll love you,” he says. “Bucky loves you, Tony will probably love you because he’ll think the interview prank you pulled on me was hilarious. Nat and Wanda will be happy another girl is around. Thor likes you, even Loki took a liking to you; he would love the interview prank. Clint will like you, Bruce will like you; no one has a reason to dislike you.

I turn around and take a good look at him. Royal blue dress shirt and black pants. His hair is up and I want nothing more than to run my fingers through it. He keeps me pressed to his body closely and I rub my hands along his chest. “If we didn’t have to go to dinner with your friends, I would be all over you right now.”

“Sorry, last night’s sex is just gonna have to hold you.” I give a little laugh. “I’m just messing with you, I’ll be all over you tonight,” he growls, pulling my face up to his and kissing me deeply. His kisses always leave me breathless, whether they’re passionate like this or small, chaste kisses when he’s leaving for work in the morning. This however, is a whole new level and it’s making my heart go crazy.

Steve picks up the basket on the kitchen counter and we walk out the door. When we get to the car, he opens the door for me, ever the gentleman, before climbing in himself. As he drives there, I fiddle with the hem of my dress. I’m so worried I’ll talk too much or too little, or I’ll offend someone or embarrass Steve. What if I mention something about him that they don’t know? Like that he bawled like a baby at Where the Red Fern Grows and Homeward Bound. Tony would probably love that but I don’t want to make Steve feel bad, I was crying too.

My biggest worry is what they’ll think of me after the interview. Will they think it was funny or will they look at me as unprofessional for not telling them I had a conflict of interest with the Avengers? I think Tony will like me, and maybe Nat, but I have no idea about the others. I don’t think Bucky would come around as much as he does if he really didn’t like spending time with both Steve and me. Besides, sometimes when Steve is on a mission and he isn’t, he comes and keeps me company with old movies and our little two person book club we started. His first choice of book was The Hobbit, which he told me he had read it when it first came out in 1937. He was happy but not surprised to find out there were movies based on them.

When we drive up to the compound, Steve has a difficult time getting me through security. They recognized my face and apparently Tony told them not to let me back. “Don’t alert Tony about her,” Steve said as he explained the situation to the guard. He looked skeptical but agreed.

Steve led me upstairs, but not to the dining room where the team was waiting. He led me to his room. “Well, well, well, Mr. Rogers, I thought we had to meet your friends in a little bit. Though I know you could probably get it done in ten minutes.”

“Ha ha ha, very funny,” he sarcastically replies. “I just needed to grab…this,” he says, pulling his wallet out of his nightstand. “Forgot it here yesterday.”

I simply hum in response to his explanation because I’m too busy looking around his room. I’ve only seen it over FaceTime and in pictures. It’s very different from our room at home. Our house, which we had just moved to from our apartment in preparation for a family, has a farmhouse theme. Our master bedroom has a cream colored walls and one shiplap wall which our bed’s decorative headboard sits against, while our king sized bed is covered in a thick white comforter. There’s a gray bench at the end of our bed and a blue and white rug. There are nightstands on each side of the bed where we keep our small before bed items and our white, shared dresser is on the other side of the room, next to the door for our walk-in closet. We have an attached bath with a clawfoot tub and a shower stall. Our room lets in lots of natural light, which Steve loves because he likes to let the morning sun warm his back on his days off.

This room has a completely different feel to it. It’s much darker than our room at home. The walls are gray and his comforter is dark blue. He has a black dresser across from his bed with a TV mounted to the wall above it. A plain bathroom with just a few essentials like shaving cream, a toothbrush, toothpaste, etc sit on the counter. While our walls at home aren’t covered in pictures, we have more than the two he has here. One is a picture of him and Bucky laughing and the other is of his parents before his father went to war; the war he never came back from. Both pictures he has copies of hanging up at home. There’s a somewhat large window on the wall, but it’s covered with a blackout curtain.

I did most of the decorating at home, while this decorating was all him. “Steve?” He looks at me. “Do you not like our room at home?”

He furrows his eyebrows. “No. I love our place. Why would you think that? Also, that’s very random to be bringing up now.”

“Well it’s just…this room is so different from ours at home. I just didn’t know if you liked the darker colors better. I want you to be comfortable in our room at home. We can change it if you want it to look more like this one.”

He gives a little laugh and turns to face me. “I didn’t decorate this room, Tony’s person did and he gave me this room because it’s the “most masculine”. I prefer our room because it’s bright and spacious. The fact that you decorated it is special to me because it’s like a present you gave to me. Plus, I don’t have the best eye for interior design since everything I grew up with was either floral or had doilies. But to be honest, this one feels a bit like a dungeon. I just don’t bother to change it because I just sleep at home. And I didn’t change it before I met you because even then I just used it to sleep, if I slept at all,” he looks into the distance, remembering all the nights he spent up in the gym, trying to beat the memories out of his mind. He changes the subject, “Ok, so when we go down there I’m gonna have you wait around the corner and then you can come out when I tell you.”

He leads me downstairs and has me wait in a hallway. He walks around the corner and I hear Tony say, “Alright Capsicle, what’s the surprise you have for us?”

“Everybody just sit down and I’ll get to it in a minute,” he replies. The sound of chairs scraping the floor is heard and Tony grumbles something about how he had been planning to have lasagna with Pepper tonight. After a few seconds of silence, Steve comes back around the corner, grabs my hand, and leads me out. I nearly trip over my heels when we start moving and the pit in my stomach only grows.

At the sight of me, Tony and Natasha stand up startled. “What is she doing here?” Tony angrily asks.

“I thought you banned her,” Natasha adds on.

They all begin chattering, asking Steve why I’m here until Bucky calmly says, “Hey Y/N.”

Sam looks at Bucky confused, “You know her?” Bucky nods his head and Sam looks at Steve, confused and a little hurt. “Steve?”

“Everybody,” Steve starts, setting his hand on my lower back. “This is Y/N, my wife.”

“WIFE?!” they all shout at different times. Steve and I get bombarded with about a million questions at once. When did we meet, why weren’t they invited to the wedding, when the wedding was, why I interviewed Steve the way I did, etc.

A loud thud on the balcony draws everyone’s attention. Thor is standing there in his armor and cape, holding his hammer. “Sorry I’m late for team dinner,” he begins but stops when he sees me. “Lady Y/N, I haven’t seen you since the wedding. How has being married to the Captain been?”

“Oh you know, being married to a man-child is a struggle, but he’s hot enough for me to keep him around,” I joke.

“Thor, you know her too?” Tony asks.

“Yes I do. Loki does too but I decided not to bring him tonight. I think it would have been a bad idea.”

“Alright, Tony, sit down and I’ll explain everything,” Steve says. Tony hesitantly sits down and everyone else follows. Steve explained everything from why we met to why we couldn’t invite them to the wedding.

As he’s finishing telling the story and answering questions from the team, Tony’s bots bring in the pasta and Steve gets up and grabs something from the basket we brought. He opens a bottle of wine and begins filling glasses. When he gets to mine, I put my hand over my cup. “Not tonight,” I say.

“But it’s your favorite,” he says.

“I can’t,” I say, not wanting to get in to it.

“C’mon, I won’t let you drink too much,” he says jovially.

“No, Steve…I can’t,” I say forcefully, looking up to make eye contact, hoping he understands without giving anything away.

He understands, but unfortunately his mouth works faster than his brain. He looks down at my stomach and an excited smile spreads on his face. “Are you…?”

I look around the table, seeing the Avengers all looking at us expectedly. I look back at Steve and sheepishly nod. He gasps and nearly drops the bottle, but luckily he realizes that when I reach out to catch it.

“A babe,” Thor says happily. “Mazel tov.”

“They’re not Jewish,” Bucky says to Thor. “Can’t wait to meet little James or Jamie.” I give Bucky a look to let him know it’s not happening. “Ok, Bucky works too.”

Tony puts his head in his hands looking like he’s about to pass out. “Oh my god, we find out Steve is married to a woman I banned from the compound, and now that he’s going to be a father.”

I look at Steve to see him with tears in his eyes. Thankfully, Natasha saves us. “I’d like to propose a toast,” she says, standing up and holding her glass out. “To Steve and Y/N, I hope you have a long, happy marriage and a healthy baby girl that you name Natasha.”

“That was the other thing we had planned to tell you tonight. We’ve been trying for a baby. I guess we were successful.” Steve finishes pouring the drinks while everybody suggests baby names. After a while, the conversation drifts to other things. I enjoy listening to them, though they’re constantly quipping (mostly Tony).

Bucky, who’s sitting next to me, whispers to Steve, who’s on my other side, “Are we going to church this Sunday?” The three of us go to church most Sundays. Steve and Bucky both grew up going to church, and it gives them some hope in a dark world.

Tony, who wasn’t involved in the conversation, cuts in. “Barnes, you could live at church and you still won’t go upstairs when you die.”

Bucky’s metal hand clenches so hard around his fork I’d be surprised if it isn’t bent. He looks at Tony and gives him a very fake, overly sweet smile. “Tony, I love how mean you are to me because it makes me feel less guilty about what I did to your parents.”

Tony stands up, slamming his hands on the table and Bucky mirrors him. It looks like they’re about to attack but Steve intervenes. “Tony, Bucky! Tony, that was uncalled for and Bucky, that was unnecessary. We know how you actually feel about your past and we’ve watched you try to change.” Both men slowly sit back down. “We have a guest.” Bucky relaxes first, then Tony does.

“Y/N,” Tony addresses me. “I need to apologize for my rudeness towards Bucky on my first night officially meeting you. I was hoping not to fight with him tonight.”

“You call that a fight? You should hear these two,” I say, gesturing to Steve and Bucky on either side of me. “These guys can bicker with each other like an old married couple for hours about the smallest things. Last week they had a 45 minute argument on how many times you can reuse a towel before it needs to be washed.”

“Wash it right away,” Steve mutters.

“Steve, we used to use towels so many times before we washed them in the 40s,” Bucky argues.

“Yeah but that was because if we needed to wash things, Mom had to heat up water and then hang-dry it on the balcony. It’s easy to wash things now days.”

“Anyways,” Tony says, stopping their argument. “I guess the interview you gave Cap makes sense now…somewhat.”

“Well I was pissed at him that day, so I think he deserved it.”

Tony smiles at Steve. “You need to bring her around more often.”

Taglist: @imanuglywombat @infernal-fire @dottirose @carpediemm-18

#Steve Rogers #steve x reader #captain america #captain america x reader #Avengers #the interview #the dinner #tony stark #natasha romanoff #bucky barnes #sam wilson #thor

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denkamis · 3 years

Text

bnha characters as cheesy valentine’s day tropes.

masterlist. | valentine’s day event masterlist.

warnings: none! some swearing, but a lot of fluff for the best boys

characters: shouto todoroki, denki kaminari, eijirou kirishima, tamaki amajiki

notes: dedicated to @nekomanagers / @meilbox ,, for being the most supportive human being in my life and undoubtedly the reason i have been posting so much of my work here on this blog. thank you for dealing with all of my shenanigans on and offline, and for picking me up when i felt like i couldn’t. <33 i love you.

shouto todoroki

flowers & chocolate as gifts

he’s one for the classics

he buys you the most gorgeous flowers, ones that are most definitely your favourites mixed in with an arrangement of others that all have particular meanings to them

he also got you expensive truffle chocolates, and also some cheaper ones that you really like to snack on

he’s so thoughtful, it makes your heart melt

literally so sincere as he gives it to you too, has a whole ass speech prepared

shouto came home after work a bit later than you had expected him to. perhaps he got caught up with some hero work, a report that needed to absolutely be filed today or a villain that just wouldn’t let up. either way, when you heard the front door to your shared apartment open, you came running over to greet him. as you turned the corner to see the front door, there stood shouto with the most breathtaking bouquet of flowers you had ever seen in your life. it was a myriad of colours and petals of all kinds standing out against the white of his suit. since when did he have time to change after work to surprise you like this? his usual aloof expression was replaced by a soft smile, one that was reserved for you and only you, “happy valentine’s day, my love.”

he strolled over to you, initiating a kiss that was slow and passionate. it made your heart melt right on the spot, your face erupting in nothing but pure warmth. “shouto, these are beautiful,” you told him as you took a moment to admire the different flowers that went into assembling the collection in his hands. “these ones mean gratitude, and this one here means love. truth is the white coloured one,” he pointed out, guiding you through the meaning of each individual one that made up your special gift.

he snuck a glance at you, your face radiant with how much you were smiling at his thoughtful present. “i also bought you a few of your favourites,” shouto gestured to the vanity you two kept by the door. you turned to see a very expensive box of truffles and a few hershey's kisses paired with more of your favourite corner store chocolates.

“it wasn’t too much, was it?” shouto asked quietly, watching as your jaw dropped at the sight of the truffles. didn’t you hear a rumour once about how those ones literally had gold integrated into their wrappers? “no no, it’s wonderful. this is.. you’re so sweet,” you giggled, tapping his chest as a signal for him to lean down so you could kiss him again. no matter how many times shouto gifted you flowers and chocolate on valentine’s day, you got the same butterflies as you did when he first gave you these heartfelt gifts back in high school.

denki kaminari

fancy dinner date at an expensive restaurant

the entire bakusquad was EGGING HIM ON for something good on valentine’s day okay

he’s been talking big game about some kind of secret plan he had in store for the both of you

he bought you an outfit that not only suited your style, but was elegant and absolutely stunning as it complimented your figure

he pulled out all the stops for you

he wanted to be classy, so he reserved a table for two at one of those rooftop restaurants so you two could dine and enjoy each other’s company

“like grown ups” as denki says

you were sat at a candlelit dinner for two near the edge of one of the most highly rated restaurants in your area. denki had really gone all out, wanting to treat you like the resilient and beautiful partner you were to him with a night that would be unforgettable.

and unforgettable it was.

you two were arguably the loudest ones at the restaurant, laughing and overall just having a good time amongst such high class individuals. denki was making faces at you across the table, making you choke back on the red wine you were having. “and then bakugou slapped that dude! it was crazy, y/n, super fucking wild,” he laughed as you nodded your head in agreement. denki sure knew how to talk, filling in conversations with anecdotes and playful conversation topics sprinkled in with compliments for you. he loved you so damn much, he felt like his electricity quirk was on all the time with you from how much you turned his brain to mush.

he couldn’t get over how gorgeous you looked tonight, with your hair done and your outfit styled to perfection. like, that was all his? and a personality to match? damn! he felt like for once, he was doing something right in his life for you. he wasn’t the dumbass everyone constantly made him out to be. he was trying to be the best for you, and if he could make you happy for the rest of his life, then nothing else mattered to him.

your waiters came back with two platters in hand, with outrageously small portion sizes that could feed maybe a small cat at best. the two of you stared at each other with blank expressions. oh no, this would not be enough to appease your appetites. each of your plates were worth twelve thousand yen, so you really couldn’t get more. on top of that, denki had prepaid everything for tonight anyways. what was worse was that the food tasted like a rat’s ass, yet the two of you dined like kings regardless. well, you pretended to at least. as you were suppressing your disgusted expressions out of kindness to both the waiters and the other guests, denki couldn’t help but stare at you. you were his person, and although the dinner wasn’t exactly all it was cracked up to be, he knew that you dealt with so much more of him than anyone else was willing to. that meant more to him than words could even express.

that, and he immediately bought you apology mcnuggets after you two left. then you two really ate like kings.

eijirou kirishima

long captions to their s/o on instagram

this mfing SAP

he has everything planned, he made like 3 drafts beforehand and even had bakugou proofread it for him

he had all the different pictures he wanted to post too

this is a little unrelated but mans definitely showed up to your house with red roses and a suit

LIKE A GENTLEMAN

your phone buzzed, indicating that you had received a new notification from instagram. after taking your phone off the table and entering in your passcode, you tapped into the instagram app and saw what had caused the tiny ping.

eijikirishima has tagged you in a post!

the first photo was an oldie, but a goodie. it was of you and eijirou at prom together back when you both graduated from ua. he looked absolutely stunning in the darkened suit he had bought, right beside you in a matching colour scheme. though the picture was in fact a meme in itself, as he posed like that one will smith picture gesturing to you with the goofiest smile. you remembered telling him that he was absolutely banned from wearing crocs that night to the dance. it was a good thing you had saved him from that utter atrocity.

the next picture was a photo of you with the puppy you had adopted together. you had named him bean, to which eijirou had expressed was the manliest name he had ever heard for a tiny pomeranian puppy. you were pressing a kiss to bean’s nose, the angle of the photo showing off your loving nature that he had fallen for.

the last was a picture of you sleeping against him during a long train ride for a mission. it wasn’t the most flattering picture eijirou had of you, but it was certainly one of his favourites. you looked so at peace, cuddling against his side with a tiny line of drool running down your chin. he was smiling in the picture, his eyes solely trained on you with the most wholesome look on his face. he was so utterly in love with you, and this picture couldn’t have showcased that look any more clearly.

the caption read as follows:

Hey bros! It’s Valentine’s Day, which means that it is my duty to post about the most amazing person I’ve ever had the pleasure of dating for about five years now! Y/N, we’ve been through so much together over the years, we’ve had ups and downs and everything else in between but I’ve been fortunate enough to remain standing here as the person you can confide in, much like you are that person to me. You’re my rock. I continue to find so much more to love about you every single day. I hope I get to spend the rest of my days with you, my best friend, my partner throughout everything. I love you so so much, pebble. I hope we get to stay just like this forever, and grow as we go along.

needless to say, many happy tears were shed that day.

tamaki amajiki

love letters in their shoe locker

for all the days leading up to valentine’s, tamaki put a different letter in your locker

mirio hyped him up asf to even get him to write what he was feeling towards you

and he was still nervous as hell and had mirio stand guard so that you didn’t accidentally walk in on him shoving weird notes in your locker

but unfortunately for tamaki, mirio isn’t a very good watchman

and so you caught him in the act, right on valentine’s day ironically

it was the end of a long, rather eventful day at school. you had gotten a few confessions from some other students, to which you turned down due to someone else being on your mind. for the past few days, you had begun collecting small letters in your shoe locker. the notes were short, handwritten with small doodles and even a recipe or two for you to try. it seemed like this person was reaching out to you to express their true feelings, their intimate and romantic feelings, towards you. and you couldn’t help but feel the same towards them, whoever they were. this admirer unveiled small details about themselves to you, yet hadn’t revealed enough for you to piece together a name. so here you were, sprinting down the hallway as soon as the bell went to try and catch a glimpse of this mystery individual who had been leaving you such sweet writings for you to cherish.

you rounded the final corner and there you saw him. before that happened however, you first you ran into your classmate and good friend mirio, who let out a tiny “oof” at the sudden contact. you apologized to him in a rush, explaining in a rushed tone that you needed to go meet someone. he nodded and waved to you before realizing that he had one job and tamaki was definitely going to kill him later.

only slightly out of breath, you saw a mess of indigo hair and shaky hands sliding your latest note into your shoe locker. as he turned to leave, his face drained of colour at the sight of you. he slouched further, retreating into himself. he looked around nervously for an excuse as to what the hell he was doing shoving letters into your locker. though, you beat him to speaking first.

“it’s you.”

tamaki’s throat felt scratchy and swollen, his entire form shaking as you slowly, calmly made your way towards him. “i- i can explain, y/n,” tamaki barely murmured, his nerves beginning to get the best of him yet again. “your words, they were so intimate. you were so well spoken on paper, i just had to meet you in person,” you confessed to him with a patient smile on your face. you stood a relatively safe distance away, not wanting to overwhelm him by your presence. you had just caught him in such a compromising act, after all.

“i read all your letters,” you went on, “every night before bed, i read them, tamaki. i even tried out the udon recipe you gave me and it was the best udon i had ever had. everything you said in your letters, the confessions and the other, more personal stuff… is that all true?”

tamaki, though he felt frozen beneath your warm gaze, had the courage to nod his head. “i didn’t know how else to tell you,” he admitted, hands now covering his face in shame. suddenly, gentle fingers grasped at his shaky ones as you uncovered his face to the light that was you. “i like you too,” you said finally. it felt like a chord had snapped inside of tamaki’s mind and all his feelings came crashing down in a deep crescendo of emotions all for you. it was all that he had ever wanted from you: a response.

all works © denkamis 2021.

tags:

@meilbox

want to be on the taglist? see this post!

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #mha scenarios #bnha scenarios #shouto todoroki x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #todoroki x reader #denki kaminari x reader #kaminari x reader #eijirou kirishima x reader #kirishima x reader #tamaki amajiki x reader #amajiki x reader #denkamis.scenarios

142 notes · View notes

arhvste · 4 years

Text

❝atsumu, kuroo, tsukishima and bokuto playing acnh ❞

miya atsumu

→ first he called the game dumb but he eventually gave in because everyone and their aunts were playing it and he didn’t wanna be left out

→ mf tries so hard for raymond at first

→ he insists it’s just because he can sell him for a lot

→ he really just wants raymond because he lowkey reminds him of osamu

→ anyways this fool doesn’t get raymond but ya know who he does get?

→ pedro

→ atsumu was ✨disgusted✨

→ “a clown?! a fukn clown?! yer jokin me!”

→ “aw don’t cry he fits in so well on your island 😹”

→ “sHUT YER TRAP 😠😠😠”

→ he hated pedro at first and for what?

→ eventually he starts vibing with him though

→ he decides that perhaps... pedro isn’t a bad guy after all

→ so atsumu develops a soft spot for him and begins to favour him over the rest of his mediocre villagers whose names he can’t be bothered to remember

→ ya know whose name he can remeber though?

→ BELLA 😡😠😡😠😡😡😠

→ the name that sparks rage in him

→ atsumu hits his villagers with his net shouting “nice cut g!” as a joke

→ with bella he’s not joking 😐

→ he hits her repeatedly and grins maliciously when she gets angry eventually

→ LOVES shoving her into pitfalls for absolutely no reason

→ cusses her out under his breath

→ writes hate mail to her only to get fustrated when she sends a nice reply about the flowers she saw the other day that reminded her of him

→ honestly bella girl it ain’t worth it, pack your bags and get outta there sis 😔

→ he wants her to get tf off his island because he doesn’t like her but he also kinda wants her to stay because he loves annoying her and making her angry

→ literally goes out of his way to buy the ugliest clothes for her to wear

→ he also has all his villagers address him as “big dick man”

→ pedro is special though 😳

→ pedro is the chosen one who gets to call him “tsumu”

→ JUST PEDRO 😤😾😡

→ literally thinks it’s the funniest thing when his villagers say “hey big dick man! the weather sure is great today isn’t it!”

→ you can hear his cackling from down the hall

→ thinks it’s the peak of comedy

→ oh and you’re not allowed to visit his island on a saturday

→ saturdays are “for the boys”

→ and by that he means he’s just going to buy a ton of matching clothes for him and pedro and talk to him all day until he eventually annoys pedro by accident to which he genuinely gets upset about

→ he doesn’t really bother with the fishing tourneys or bug offs

→ does catch a few though just to make sure he beats bella earns nook miles

→ pretty average island, not too much effort put into it yet

→ atsumu prefers channeling his energy and game time into bullying bella interacting with his villagers

kuroo tetsurō

→ bangs. it. tf. out.

→ literally acts like he doesn’t care about the game but has 395+ hours game time

→ uses the excuse it’s to play with kenma but kuroo actually got into it before kenma had the chance to look at it properly

→ fishing tourney KING

→ has multiple gold trophy’s and built a whole extension just to show them off

→ also treats all his villagers equally

→ he was a bit picky and only wanted cats and dogs on his island though

→ if you’re anything but a cat or a dog, i’m sorry but kuroo will timeskip you tf off of his island

→ has a soft spot for lucky but doesn’t admit it

→ he likes to come across as a “fair dictator of the island”

→ just admit luckys your fav and go oh my god

→ his house is really nice too

→ pretty much paid off all his debt and is financially responsible 😼

→ he will send you money over a few times a week because he claims he’s a good boyfie virtually and realistically

→ LOVES opening the letters from ‘mom’

→ it’s a small detail in the game but it brings kuroo comfort when he opens the letters and sometimes receives gifts from his virtual ‘mom’ 🥺

→ keeps all the letters from her because that’s what he would do if his real mom ever wrote to him

→ he’s a shameless timeskipper

→ “tetsu?? where tf did you get all this the games only been out a week??”

→ “👁👁 idk what you’re talking about baby”

→ the thing that annoys him the most are the fossils

→ HATES the stupid little marks in the ground that appear every day

→ also HATES talking to blathers

→ “spit it out already! i have places to be and villagers to see!”

→ completely ignores blathers’ real name and refers to him as ‘bokuto’

→ because he’s an owl duh

→ and bokuto also talks a lot

→ you thought it was a cute friendship thing at first but took it back when you heard him muttering under his breath

→ “oh my god just analyse the fossils already you himbo bird!”

→ “did you just call blathers a himbo? 😳”

→ “...no? 😳👀”

→ all in all, kuroo’s pretty good at the game

→ you like visiting his island because he has a ton of extra stuff he just gives you

→ “i never want to hear you call me a bad boyfriend again 😐”

→ “okay fine...but oNLY if you give me an ironwood dresser 😏”

tsukishima kei

→ another one who bangs it out

→ doesn’t really care when you point it out though

→ “you’re just jealous your islands a dumping ground compared to mine 🥱”

→ “k-kei 😔”

→ also sprints near where you’re fishing to scare the fish off and be spiteful 💀

→ little shit KNOWS you only need oranges to complete all the fruits on your island

→ he also knows you’re out of nook miles tickets

→ “aw that’s a shame, maybe if you were a bit better at the game you’d find them quicker but good luck! 😀”

→ oranges are his native fruit 😐😑😐

→ eventually he gives you them because you’re relentless and his patience runs thin after a while

→ good at the bug offs

→ pretty good at scorpion/tarantula hunting too

→ convinced spike is in love with him after the amount of scorpions and tarantulas he’s donated to him

→ his fossil exhibition in the museum is completed already

→ when blathers tells him the facts about the dinosaurs he just rolls his eyes

→ “i knew that already you stupid bird 🙄”

→ why’s everyone bullying blathers damn 😿

→ now, he likes henry

→ one of the few villagers he doesn’t bully

→ tsukki doesnt particularly care for majority of his villagers

→ henry has a special place in his heart though

→ maybe it’s because henry isn’t overly perky or he isn’t rude like the cranky villagers which tsukishima doesn’t like

→ henry is just??? so??? nice????

→ he can’t hate him

→ all his villagers have catchphrases that are dumb af

→ tsukki thought he was being clever when he made them but he just looks mean when other people talk to his villagers

→ “good morning i am useless! i love your outfit!”

→ henry gets to call him tsukki though

→ only because he figured out that henry reminds him of yamaguchi

→ that’s the only reason henry’s the exception to his bullying

→ i feel like tsukki has a pretty nice house too

→ he makes a lot of bells from selling scorpions and tarantulas and spare fossils he’s dug up

→ doesn’t really care about the size but has very detailed rooms

→ like all the furniture in his rooms follow a scheme

→ mf never opens his mailbox

→ doesn’t care for what the other “peasants have to say for themselves”

→ terraforming isn’t really his thing tbh

→ doesn’t like how slow the process and be and kinda likes the natural flat land

→ he likes laying down paths though

→ cusses villagers out when they get in the way though

→ full on shoves them and will keep shoving them until they get annoyed just because they’ve annoyed him

→ tsukki doesnt put as much time into the game as kuroo but his island is still pretty good and aesthetically pleasing

→ he just won’t help you make yours look like that 💀

bokuto koutarō

→ weeds. everywhere.

→ get so confused when he’s told he has to pick them all

→ “really? why can’t i just let them grow though i kinda like them 🤩”

→ mf ✨struggles✨ at the first stages

→ “y/n, you know i love you, please give me 30 iron nuggets 🥺💖💞💗”

→ ofc you give them to him because you’re well ahead in the game and don’t need them as much as he does

→ praises you like royalty but then he’s back to begging for materials from you 💀

→ doesn’t pay his debts

→ you’re gonna have to help him out here

→ doesn’t like the idea of having to constantly pay them off

→ like?? he doesn’t want a bigger house so why is this damn raccoon always bothering him to upgrade like leave him and his 2 room house alone 😠

→ has a the same camp bed and lamp from when he first moved out the tent 💀

→ insists he doesn’t need another one because the furniture all functions the same

→ he has a point tbf but his house just isn’t aesthetically pleasing

→ he also hoards stuff

→ common butterfly? yeah bokuto has 37 sitting in his storage

→ doesn’t like letting the bugs go because he “caught them fair and square”

→ you show him how to pay his debts back and then he dedicates a whole room to his stupid bugs 💀

→ loves blathers and celeste just because they’re owls

→ doesn’t care about what they’re wittering on about he loves interacting with them just because they’re the only owls in the game 😐

→ his favourite villager is kid cat

→ literally follows him around and sprints circles around him

→ l o v e s the chaos outside the town hall

→ 2 of his villagers are singing, 3 are running around and 1 is just watching like 🧍🏻‍♀️

→ HYPES his singing villagers tf up

→ “yeah get it bianca! turn it up!!! 🥳🥳”

→ has to match his villagers clothes at least once a week

→ also makes them all refer to him as “the best ace”

→ it boosts his ego a little more each time they say it

→ bokuto actually got raymond out of luck but had no idea who tf he was and just how popular he was

→ lets that mf go without advertising that raymond’s in boxes

→ atsumu screeches when he finds this out eventually

→ bokuto doesn’t care what his villagers look like everyone’s welcome

→ bella should move to bokuto’s island and move from atsumu’s because bokuto will accept her with open arms rather than a net to the head everytime he sees her 😿

→ ALWAYS remembers birthdays for his villagers

→ and always shows up to their birthday parties insisting he’s the life of the party and they’d be bored without him 😹

→ which is true to a certain degree cause the party only really starts when the player arrives

→ bokuto is actually okay at terraforming

→ quickly changes his mind after an hour of building and digging and restarts it all over again

→ he can make his island look pretty good

→ theres just weeds and buried fossils everywhere though 👁👁

→ also forgets his turnips go bad

→ literally the least financially responsible out of them all

→ it’s okay though because you help him and he eventually gets the hang of it

general taglist → @atsumuwoah @bloody-bella @bbymilkbread @miracleboy420 @doggonudez @atsunakaashi @peteunderoos @saturnfarie @toffees-main @zumisace @boosyboo9206 @totorosleaff @27kei

please send an ask to be added / removed from my taglist

ALL CONTENT BELONGS TO @KUROOSKULT ON TUMBLR 2020 PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, CHANGE OR PLAGIARISE

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nerdarena2 · 6 months

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Looking At The Upcoming Marvel Movies, Do You Still Miss The Original Avengers?

"Avengers: Endgame" marked a significant turning point in the Marvel Cinematic Universe (MCU) and brought about several changes and developments in the franchise. Here are some of the key ways the MCU has evolved since the release of "Avengers: Endgame":

Conclusion of the Infinity Saga: "Avengers: Endgame" served as the epic conclusion to the Infinity Saga, wrapping up the overarching storyline that began with "Iron Man" in 2008. It provided closure to long-running character arcs and storylines.

New Heroes and Teams: Post-"Endgame," the MCU introduced a new generation of heroes and teams. Characters like Spider-Man (Tom Holland), Black Panther (Chadwick Boseman), Doctor Strange (Benedict Cumberbatch), and Captain Marvel (Brie Larson) have taken on prominent roles.

Disney+ Series: The MCU expanded to the small screen with a series of interconnected Disney+ shows, including "WandaVision," "The Falcon and the Winter Soldier," and "Loki." These series explore the personal journeys and adventures of existing characters.

Multiverse Concept: The concept of the multiverse has been introduced, allowing for alternate realities and versions of characters to coexist. This has opened up new storytelling possibilities and will play a significant role in upcoming projects.

Phase 4 and Beyond: The MCU entered Phase 4 with a diverse lineup of films and series that explore different genres and themes. Projects like "Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings," "Eternals," and "Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness" take the franchise in fresh directions.

In summary, "Avengers: Endgame" marked the end of an era while paving the way for a new and exciting phase in the Marvel Cinematic Universe. The franchise continues to evolve, with a focus on new heroes, interconnected storytelling, and diverse narratives that maintain its appeal to a global audience.

Upcoming Prime Characters Of MCU

Below is are one of the prime characters of the upcoming mcu series which has played a significant role in the entire series :

Shang Chi

Shang-Chi, also known as Shang-Chi: The Master of Kung Fu, is a fictional superhero character in the Marvel Comics universe. Created by writer Steve Englehart, Shang-Chi is renowned as one of the greatest martial artists in the Marvel Universe. He has mastered various forms of martial arts, including Kung Fu, Tai Chi, Judo, Karate, and many others. His fighting skills are often depicted as superhuman, allowing him to perform incredible feats of combat. If you are a true fan of the marvel cinematic universe and you wish to purchase such marvel figurines then you can find these at marvel shop india.

Black Panther

Black Panther is a fictional superhero character in the Marvel Comics universe. Followed by the name of T'challa the king of the fictional African nation of Wakanda. A highly advanced and technologically advanced African nation that is known for its vast reserves of Vibranium, a fictional metal with unique properties. Which helps Black Panther, T'Challa wears a Vibranium-enhanced suit and possesses enhanced strength, agility, and reflexes due to consuming a special heart-shaped herb that grants him superhuman abilities.

Ant-Man

Ant-Man is a fictional superhero character in the Marvel Comics universe. Well-known being Dr. Henry "Hank" Pym the original Ant-Man, first appearing in "Tales to Astonish." He is a brilliant scientist specializing in entomology and robotics. Hank Pym discovered a rare substance called Pym Particles that allows him to shrink in size while increasing his strength. He created a suit and helmet that enable him to communicate with ants and control them. Lang is a skilled electronics expert and a former thief who becomes Ant-Man after stealing the suit from Hank Pym to save his daughter's life.

Guardians Of Galaxy

The Guardians of the Galaxy are a fictional superhero team in the Marvel Comics universe. The team has had various lineups and iterations over the years, but the most well-known version of the Guardians of the Galaxy, as introduced in the modern era, includes the characters like star lord, rocket raccoon, groot, drax, gamora, mantis, nebula, yondu. The Guardians of the Galaxy are known for their spacefaring adventures, humor, and camaraderie. They often find themselves facing cosmic threats and embarking on missions to protect the universe from various villains and dangers.

Apart from the above anime action figures, there are many other action figures. If you are looking out for such action figures then Nerd Arena is a one-stop solution for such kinds of action figures.

To know more: https://nerdarena.in/collections/collectibles/marvel-cinematic-universe

#Marvel Cinematic Universe

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lady-divine-writes · 3 years

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Kurtbastian - “Always and Forever” Chapter 2

After the death of their daughter Grace, Kurt and Sebastian drift apart. Kurt wraps himself up in his grief so tightly he starts to push Sebastian away, and Sebastian, feeling himself shoved aside when he needs Kurt most, cheats. They make the decision to start over, to leave New York City and their pain behind, and start over again in a house Upstate. Sebastian buys Kurt a "fixer upper" and gives him free reign. While redecorating the room that will be his studio, Kurt comes across something interesting underneath the wallpaper. It starts to become an obsession for Kurt - an obsession that begins to replace Kurt's love for his husband, which Sebastian is holding on to by a thread. Can Kurt and Sebastian break through the pain and the hurt and find a way to fall in love again?

Read on AO3

Chapter 2 (5061 words)

The first evening in their new house becomes a long, exhaustive dance of unpacking and cleaning in preparation for the movers to arrive in the morning. What, in the past, would have been an upbeat two-step of flirting in the hallways while lugging in suitcases, punctuated by the occasional stop, dip, and smooch, is now a formal, boxy waltz, with Sebastian giving Kurt a wide-berth whenever he hears his husband coming, and Kurt pausing in doorways, eyes darting elsewhere when Sebastian passes by.

The rush to clear the dirt away and make things suitable for the furniture they chose to bring with them affords Kurt ample opportunities to send Sebastian on a host of errands, ensuring him stretches of time that he can spend alone to reflect and think.

Consider the past and plan for the future.

Even after the furniture arrives, they should have tons of space left. They had decided not to bring everything they own with them. They aren’t selling their penthouse. Keeping it furnished for the odd trip back seems like the practical thing to do. So, they only packed those things that they absolutely could not live without.

They didn’t bring any of the furniture from Grace's room. That Kurt donated to the Salvation Army with the exception of one item – a Winnie the Pooh lamp that he had found in mint condition, ironically, at the Salvation Army, on the day he and Sebastian found out their surrogate was pregnant. It's ceramic, hand-painted, with Christopher Robin and Winnie the Pooh sitting back to back as the base, each holding a handful of balloons. One red balloon, larger than the rest, contains the bulb, the colored plastic lending a rosy tint to its glow. Along the bottom edge are written the words: “If there ever comes a day when we can’t be together, keep me in your heart, I’ll stay there forever.”

Kurt’s mother had read him Winnie the Pooh books his entire childhood. He could recite most of A. A. Milne’s writings by the time he turned eight.

The year his mother passed away.

He'd read those same books to his daughter. She’d had them mostly memorized, too.

Seven hours of scrubbing, sanitizing, and (for Sebastian) racing around town wipe the two of them out, to the point where falling asleep is simply a matter of inflating an air mattress and putting heads down on pillows. They had picked up a Queen size one at a JCPenney along the way. It’s nowhere near as luxurious as the custom-made King size bed currently stuck in the back of an Allied Moving Truck, waiting to take a journey on the 495. This mattress is a tighter fit than they’re used to. It doesn’t help that the thing sinks in the middle whenever one of them rolls over. With the both of them measuring six-foot-plus tall, they have to lie in the fetal position to fit comfortably, which would require them to spoon. But Kurt finds a way to keep himself out of his husband’s arms.

The material the mattress is made out of seems perpetually ice-cold, not warming up a touch with their combined body heat, which Kurt didn’t anticipate. They have the gas and electricity switched on, but there’s something wrong with the central heating. They don’t have the requisite amount of blankets to keep from freezing, which adds to the misery. Despite being pissed at Sebastian, Kurt doesn’t have the heart to send him out at one a.m. to the 24-hour Walmart, so he closes his eyes and resigns himself to suffering until dawn.

For the next five hours, Kurt’s mind stays blank. No noise, no dreams, and no flashbacks, thank God. It’s not restful, but it’s the best he could have hoped for. The last half a year has not been conducive to dreaming. The nightmares keep coming, one after the other, the next one worse than the last, shaking him to his core until he jars awake with a pain in his chest like someone had tried, in steel boots, to stomp him into the dirt. But waking up doesn’t solve the problem. He doesn’t know what he hates worse – waking up weeping in his husband’s arms or waking up weeping alone.

Kurt’s feelings for Sebastian are complicated when he thinks they shouldn’t be. Kurt should either love him and forgive him or hate him and move on. But he loves him and hates him. His hands itch to hold him, but a second later, he wants to shove him away. He wants to go, but he can’t imagine leaving.

As much as it sucks, Kurt can’t imagine living without him.

He would prefer to go back to being shamelessly and hopelessly in love with him. Hating him has become a crutch. But it’s enough to get him through. Regardless of that fact, which should tie up the loose ends, mend the hurts and cool the hate, it doesn’t, because Kurt can’t find a way to forgive him.

A well-meaning Facebook friend had told Kurt over Messenger that the problem was Kurt’s pride had been hurt by Sebastian cheating. Push the pride aside and get over it. Ultimately, the marriage is more important. Then he said something about Kurt putting on his “big boy” pants, mentioned God, and quoted the Bible.

A minute later, Kurt blocked him.

That’s another blessing of moving - leaving behind the get over it already crowd. He hates them more than the forever sorry folks. The people who tell him to move on, to get over it, to put it behind him, don’t really care about him. They want him to stop complaining, as if they’re obligated to follow him on social media, and that puts the burden on him, in turn, to make them feel comfortable.

Maybe some of them do care, but not enough to put themselves in his shoes and understand that it’s just not that easy. Being on the outside of the swamp and looking in at a man who’s drowning, yelling at him to grab a branch and pull himself free, is different than being the man stuck hip-deep in mud that feels like cement and losing a fight that’s beyond his control.

Sometimes, as a matter of self-preservation, you simply give up.

Kurt doesn’t know who Sebastian slept with. He has his suspicions, but he doesn’t know for sure, and Sebastian won’t confirm. He says it’s because he wants to put it behind him, forget it ever happened, and that infuriates Kurt. If sleeping with another man was something Sebastian would need to put behind him, why even do it? Or (and Kurt hates himself for thinking like this), if Sebastian didn’t want Kurt to dwell on it, why not take steps to ensure that Kurt wouldn’t find out? Sebastian, of all people, should have known that this would eat Kurt up inside. It’s the kind of thing he’d never let go of. Yes, Kurt would be devastated if he discovered the cheating and the cover-up years after the fact, but he’d be in a better place to mourn his marriage apart from mourning his daughter.

What Sebastian did was selfish on so many levels.

Kurt knows that sex isn’t love, but he can't help wondering – was there a moment in the middle of all of it, caught up in the kissing and the fucking, where it felt like love?

Kurt met Sebastian in high school. Kurt wasn’t just a virgin back then. Oh, no. He had created his own category of virgin for which he could have had a cape and costume custom made – Captain Super Prude. Sex was a taboo topic for him, so much so that his high school’s chastity club hated him.

Apparently, he set the bar too high, made them look loose in comparison.

As much as he had fantasized about finding a special someone who would sweep him off his feet, gently usher him into manhood by making soulful but passionate love to him, he preferred not to think about it too often or too in-depth. The "talk” between him and his father was a mortifying experience.

There were pamphlets involved.

He still has some of them.

When it came to finding a boyfriend, Sebastian wasn’t what Kurt had planned on at all. Where Kurt was attracted to debonair, old-school, gentlemanly types a few years older than himself, Sebastian was crass, rude, explicit, and a year younger. On top of that, he was (to coin a phrase stolen from one of Kurt’s best friends, Quinn) the biggest French whore of them all. Sebastian didn’t care for romance and he didn’t attach emotions to sex, but he definitely had a way of making men fall in love with him. Kurt Hummel and Sebastian Smythe were the two people in the world least likely to fall in love with one another. But according to Sebastian, he fell in love with Kurt long before Kurt fell in love with him.

Sebastian claimed that Kurt was the first man he had ever fallen in love with, and at first sight, no less.

He whispered those words in Kurt’s ear the first time they made love.

He said those exact words during his toast at their wedding.

He wrote them in every birthday, Christmas, and anniversary card he ever gave to Kurt.

He said them over Grace’s crib the night they brought her home.

“Look at this little thing, Kurt,” Sebastian had sighed, reaching out to stroke Grace’s cheek. “Our daughter. Is it ridiculous that I’ve only known her for two days and I’m already in love with her?

“Technically, nine months and two days. But, no. It’s not ridiculous.”

“I never thought I could fall so fast in love with another human being before I met you.”

“Really?”

“A-ha.” Sebastian smiled when Grace yawned, her whole mouth moving in a complete circle before she settled down again. “I fell in love with you the second I laid eyes on you. And then, well, it was all over for me.”

Those words, the memory of that happiness, breaks Kurt’s heart. Could it be possible that, after close to twenty years of marriage, after reciting those words so many times, they didn’t mean anything anymore? Had Sebastian found someone else he could fall in love with?

Kurt has asked, but Sebastian won’t answer that question. He says it’s insulting.

Whatever the answer, he probably thinks he’s doing his husband a kindness. What he’s really doing is prolonging the torture, not giving Kurt the information he needs to make a decision that he can stand behind. Every time Kurt looks at his husband, he sees touches on his skin that don’t belong to him, kisses on his lips that he didn’t put there.

Kurt doesn’t know how to make himself see past them.

Instead, he looks away.

The second Kurt feels sunlight on his face, he’s out of bed. He grabs his messenger bag and pads down the hall to his studio before Sebastian can stir.

The room looks different with blurry morning sunlight bleeding through the windows. Kurt didn’t put black-out curtains up, and the sheer curtains that came with the house let fingers of light poke through, bouncing off the wallpaper and brightening the floor.

Yikes.

Kurt examines the floor now that he sees it clearly. It’s a mess - the wood warped as if someone had paced it incessantly. It had been varnished at one time. Spots of resin dot the boards like oily puddles. The wood itself (some variety of walnut, Kurt suspects) has blackened to a morbid pitch with age. It sucks up the light and gives little back.

“Oh, yeah,” Kurt murmurs, pressing around the brittle edge of one spot with his toe, watching it crackle into shards. “This has to be completely redone.”

He gets stuck on the idea that this room could have been his daughter’s if she were still alive. He and Sebastian had talked about raising Grace in a suburban environment, and as much as he regrets not giving her a house with a yard and room to grow, Kurt leaned heavily on the side of staying in the city. Some of his motives were selfish. He loved Manhattan. It had been his lifelong dream to end up there. He wanted his daughter to grow up with all of the things he didn’t – culture, diversity, theaters and libraries and museums a train ride away. He didn’t want her raised around the closed, narrow minds of small-town folk. He wanted her to be an independent thinker – liberated, rational, intelligent. But he also wanted her to be compassionate and kind. He wanted her to know the world, its wonders and its failings, the way it truly was, not the way it looked on a movie screen, and long to change it for the better. They participated in fundraisers, gathered donations for the homeless, and volunteered in soup kitchens.

Grace was a pure light, a driving force that, at her age, Kurt didn’t get the chance to be.

So in honor of her, he wants his workroom to be bright and colorful - a mixture of his vintage aesthetic and her fun-loving personality. He’ll paint the walls her favorite colors, put homages to her in the details, choose the furnishings she would have preferred.

Since this will be the room he spends most of his time in, he wants it to be everything about his daughter that he adored.

He opens his bag and pulls out his phone, checking the time. 6:08. The movers are supposed to arrive between eight a.m. and ten. But movers, electricians, plumbers, and cable guys never arrive on time. He fishes out his sketchbook, sits on the floor, and gets to work jotting down a layout. First things first, he decides where his drafting table will go, where he’ll store his bolts, where he’ll put his sewing machine, a spot for a work chair, marking places here and there for personal touches like his mother’s vanity, his first-ever dress form, a few of his awards...

And photographs. Lots and lots of photographs.

He didn’t keep photographs in his studio at Vogue. He had an obsession with keeping his private life private, which he doesn’t apologize for. Since he met clients there, he liked to keep that space impersonal. Nothing to get in the way, spark a conversation that might derail the job at hand.

Unlike Sebastian, who hung candids galore. He stuffed the most Godawful photographs from their high school and college years into collage frames and nailed them to every wall of his office, squeezing things like his degrees and diplomas into far corners so that those pictures could be prominently displayed. He said that people knew the Smythes by name and reputation. If anyone wanted to see his credentials, they could Google them. But when people walked into his office, he wanted them to know that first and foremost, he was a family man.

Sebastian knew from childhood that he would become a lawyer. He never dreamed he would be a father.

Or a husband.

Those were the two accomplishments he seemed the proudest of.

Kurt regrets not having more pictures of Grace hanging on his studio walls, her smiling face to look at every hour of every day, watching his meetings, overseeing his layouts. She was his good-luck charm, his missing puzzle piece. She deserved a place of honor.

Now, he’ll give her one.

His stomach growls as he works. A smell from somewhere tickles his nose, and he groans. Just a few more seconds of sketching on the hard ground, and he’ll grab a bite to eat… maybe. With his ass numb, he doesn’t see a reason to get up, and bedsides, he’s on a roll. Car doors closing and constant banging echo in, and he winces, his head throbbing from lack of sleep. Dammit! If it would just stop till he finishes! It’s hard enough to concentrate as is! He hopes this is a one-time-only thing. He’d hate to wake up to that cacophony every morning. If he ever decides to go outside and meet the neighbors, he’ll have to find a polite way of asking them not to do whatever that is before he has his morning coffee.

Of course, soundproofing is also an option.

“Kurt? Kurt, are you… ?”

Kurt shifts his legs underneath him. He lifts a hand to massage his shoulders. That mattress must have killed his back. His arms ache something fierce. Sitting on this floor doesn’t help, the uneven boards digging into his legs, but it’s not an impetus for him to stop.

Just one more minute.

One more minute of sketching out this room, and he’ll join the world. One more minute to get his thoughts straight. One more minute to brush aside the things that like to torture him. Forget that his mother died when he was eight, his stepbrother when he was eighteen. Forget that his father passed away three years ago and his daughter six months ago.

Not too long after, his husband cheated.

Five.

That’s how many things he had loved in this world more than himself.

Those are the things that he’d lost.

They were the things he needed to forget in order to make it through till the evening.

He’ll replace the insulation and the drywall, smother everything in a noise-proofing compound, then paint the walls in swirls of pink and gold. He’ll do the ceiling in shades of blue, indigo, and violet, like the sky at night, and cover it in crystals to represent stars the way Grace had wanted to do with her bedroom. Kurt had promised her he would the second everything was over, when they could risk her being around the debris and the fumes.

He has never broken a promise to Grace. He isn’t about to start.

He scribbles those notes in sloppy script in the margin of his paper, wipes tears with the back of his shaking hand. He tries to focus on specifics to bring himself back from the brink of a breakdown. He needs a good cry, but he doesn’t want the comforting that will go with it if Sebastian hears him. He can’t right now. Sebastian comforting Kurt turns into Kurt comforting him back, and Kurt only has the strength to handle one outburst.

“Kurt? Did you want to… ?”

Kurt waves a hand to shoo away the buzzing beside his ear, relieved when it doesn’t take much more than that.

In order to paint the walls, he’ll have to take the wallpaper down.

That brings to mind the corner of torn paper over by the window and the word written underneath.

Darling.

That corner offends him. Kurt keeps entertaining the thought that that word has nothing to do with Sebastian, that there is another layer of wallpaper underneath festooned with line art of flowers, along with quotes from various love poems sprinkled throughout, circa 1800s. But then that would make that one tear and that one word an incredible coincidence since darling is the pet name Sebastian has called Kurt since day one. When he started doing it, every time he said it, Kurt had an urge to sock him on the jaw.

He was a pain in the ass, even back then.

Did Sebastian actually think Kurt would fall for writing darling on the wall? After the things he said? After what he did?

Kurt’s hand trembles so badly, he smudges the ink on his page. He stops writing, takes a deep breath, and counts to ten. He closes his eyes and concentrates on the sun warming his face. It’s gone now when it was there a second ago, which is disconcerting, but he has to ignore that and calm down.

He has to relax.

He promised he’d give this marriage a chance, that he’d try to make this work. Sebastian, so far, has held up his part of the bargain. He’s given Kurt space. He’s listened to him vent uncontested. He’s let Kurt keep tabs on him – where he goes, when he’ll be back, with photo texts in between to prove that he is where he said he would be. Kurt has to give him the benefit of the doubt. If Sebastian extends an olive branch, Kurt should take it.

But did he want to?

“I didn’t hear you when you got up this morning.” Sebastian’s voice starts Kurt’s hand up again. He wants to look busy. He doesn’t want to be caught in a position where he has to give his husband his full attention.

He hasn’t forgotten everything yet.

“Well, you were dead to the world,” Kurt replies, distracted.

“I’m just saying, see? You won’t disturb me. You don’t need to put a bed in here.”

Kurt bobs his head back and forth, adding a place in his layout for a foldout out of spite. “We’ll see. It’s only been the one day.”

“That’s true.” The way Sebastian says it, it sounds like a challenge. A tired challenge. Like Sebastian knows he’s already lost. “So, you like the room?”

“Yeah. I think I do.”

“And what about the rest of the house?”

He doesn’t know why Sebastian sounds like he’s asking. It’s a done deal. They both agreed on a new house. Sebastian found one he thought Kurt would like and bought it. What? Are they going to back out now and magically move somewhere else?

Will moving around from house to house solve what’s wrong between them?

“It’s fine, I guess. I don’t know. I think it’s hard for me to visualize without taking the grand tour. I’ll be able to tell better when I get started decorating.”

“Are you gonna hire that guru guy to help you with the yin and yang stuff?” Sebastian jokes cautiously. “That Kung Fu guy… what’s his name… ?” Sebastian snaps his fingers as if he’s seriously trying to remember.

“He’s a Feng shui practitioner, and his name is Carl.”

“His name's Carl?” Sebastian laughs. “No no no, his name is not Carl. Carl is the name of a dentist. He’s not a guy you call to Wang Chung your house.”

“Feng shui,” Kurt corrects again. “I hired him to help me create balance in our home.” He chuckles despite the fact he doesn’t want to find Sebastian funny. He doesn’t want Sebastian to affect him. But he’s right. The man’s name irked Kurt, too, when Isabelle referred him. “Ridiculous name or not, he seemed like a knowledgeable guy.”

“Do you think that Shaolin stuff could work here?”

Kurt pauses to give the matter some thought, and that kills the moment. The levity becomes saturated by the pain hanging in the room, and Kurt coils further into his sketch.

“That remains to be seen. But I think I’m going to try doing it for myself this time. Of course, the overall effect is going to be completely thrown to heck when you hire whoever never to decorate your office.” Kurt throws a derisive scowl over his shoulder. It misses its mark when Kurt won’t look Sebastian in the eyes.

Sebastian swallows Kurt’s scowl without thinking of a comeback. They’ve had that argument before when Kurt redecorated their penthouse. Kurt felt the need to redecorate whenever something big happened in their lives, but Sebastian’s office was off-limits, so it stayed the same. Kurt tried to find one or two things to put into his design scheme that would bring a theme from Sebastian’s office out so that the penthouse would blend, but whatever the thing he chose was – a print, a vase, an ottoman, or a coffee table – it stuck out like a sore thumb, until Kurt tried less and less.

“Can’t fight City Hall,” he’d say, returning to the business of finishing the rest of the space. Things changed around them, and yet, in Sebastian’s carefully curated world, life stood still. The last time Kurt redecorated was before Grace was born. Nothing in the penthouse matched Sebastian’s office after that.

“I want you to do it.”

Kurt stops scribbling. “Me?”

“Yeah.”

Kurt almost looks back to see if Sebastian is serious. He stares at the paper in front of him, the surface more ink than white. “Are you… are you sure? You always said that we need our separate spaces.”

“That’s only because you’re a little heavy-handed with the pastels. I trust you. Just don’t go making it all shabby chic.”

Kurt is speechless. This is the opportunity he has been waiting for their entire marriage – to decorate Sebastian’s office. Once upon a time, he saw it as the ultimate gesture of trust.

Back when he was naïve and fairly stupid.

“Don’t worry. I won’t.” Kurt debates standing up and giving Sebastian a hug or a handshake. This seems like a time that would warrant it. But when he rolls an inch to his knees, his entire body screams with pain. God, he feels old. How can he be this stiff after just half an hour?

Kurt returns to his planning. Even though he doesn’t feel prepared to leave his sanctuary, he fixes on that solid mask he’s been wearing for weeks around Sebastian. Just one more minute. One more minute, and he’ll go downstairs. He thinks he says it out loud. He expects Sebastian to go back to their room and get ready for the day, but he stays in place like a statue, watching Kurt draw, huddled over his sketchbook with his back turned to him and the door.

Kurt waits to hear the sound of footsteps retreat the way they came, but they don’t. His pencil stops above a square drawn in the corner meant to represent his stereo. He can’t continue his drawing with his husband watching, so he bites the bullet.

“Was there something else you needed?” he asks.

“They’ve… uh… got the bed in,” Sebastian says. “And the TV.”

Kurt scrunches his nose and lifts his head. What does he mean? The bed and the TV are on the moving truck. Kurt looks at his phone, resting on the floor by his knee.

“What are you talking about?” Kurt scoffs. “The movers haven’t even arrived yet. It’s only 7:15.”

“That’s right.” Sebastian speaks slowly, the way he does when he’s explaining something to Kurt that he thinks Kurt might explode over. He leans forward like he wants to come in but doesn’t without an invitation. “It is 7:15. In the evening.”

Kurt's head snaps up, eyes rolling because Sebastian is crazy.

There’s no way.

He's ready to object, but with his gaze away from his page, he notices something different about the light in the room. Instead of a soft, diffused blue, it has become a thicker yellow. Shadows stretch across the floor that weren’t there before. The room is warmer than he remembers, and the skin of his left shin, folded over his right, feels hot and irritated, like he might have gotten a sunburn.

“Evening?” Kurt shakes his head. “How can it… ? But… why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you come get me?”

“I tried. I told you when the movers arrived. I asked you what you wanted for lunch. I brought you the portable heater and put a lamp in here when it started to get dark.”

Kurt looks around. In the emptiness of the room, they’re easy to see - a plug-in heater behind him, and, in the corner of the room to the left of the door, standing straight and tall like a structural support beam, a brass lamp without a shade, filling the room with artificial light.

The first two pieces of furniture in his new studio, and Sebastian put them there.

Kurt doesn’t want them. He’d rather be cold and alone in the dark.

“We don’t have WiFi or cable yet, but I set up the Blu-ray player,” Sebastian continues. “I thought I could go get some take-out, and we could have a picnic dinner on the bed. Maybe watch a movie?”

Kurt does a 180 on his sore ass and looks at his husband (which is to say he looks at a spot over Sebastian’s head) with a mildly confused expression. He’s not really thinking about the bed or the movie or dinner at all. Even though he was hungry earlier, apparently hours earlier, he’s not hungry now. He couldn’t be less hungry. His desire to eat simply evaporated. It's been waning for weeks. Sometimes he forgets to eat until Sebastian sticks a sandwich in his face. Sebastian has become devoted to keeping Kurt's stomach full. He knows better than to comment on his weight loss, but he keeps a stock of temptable foods on hand.

He’s keeping Kurt on life support.

Sebastian stuck a spear into the heart of what they had together. Now he’s keeping Kurt alive to help him fix it.

Kurt hates that he didn’t see it that way until just now.

“Kurt? Please?”

Here’s the olive branch, Kurt thinks. He has to decide whether he’s going to take it or toss it aside.

He had promised Sebastian he’d try, and Kurt has never broken a promise to Sebastian.

No matter how much he hurts, he’s not going to start tonight.

His father always said that a man is only as good as his word.

Kurt closes his sketchbook. “Alright. I’m coming.” He tries to unfold his legs, but his knees lock up on him, and he rushes to massage the beginnings of a cramp. Sebastian looks like he’s about to spring in and help, but Kurt puts up a hand. “I’ll be a minute.”

Nodding, Sebastian takes a step back. Even with that rejection, he looks happier, more hopeful. He takes his phone out of his pocket and leaves the room. The grateful smile on his lips should fill Kurt with warmth. It used to.

But it doesn’t.

After a meal of Szechuan from a questionable establishment (not questionably clean, just questionably Chinese) and The Devil Wears Prada (a movie Sebastian swore up and down he’d never watch again), Sebastian falls asleep with his head on Kurt’s chest. And Kurt lets him, even if he himself barely gets a minute of peace.

#kurtbastian #sebkurt #sekurt #sebastian smythe #Kurt Hummel

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veryvincible · 3 years

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Hii do you have any tony headcanons for halloween to share? With steve or tiberius too?

This is such a cute ask and yes, I do! These are mostly related to costumes. (Also, I love when "headcanons" and "Tiberius" appear in the same ask. This is my favorite.)

Ahem. Cracks knuckles.

In my head, Ty, Tony, and Steve are kind of on a gradient in a lot of ways, and Halloween costumes are no different.

Ty feels like the kind of guy who might go for a high-effort-but-looks-casual-so-he-doesn't-have-to-publicly-look-like-he-cares-that-much historical costume with more thought-out detail than anyone would be able to pick up on just by looking at him. He'd be your Caesar with as well-researched a death throes toga as you could hope to find, possibly complete with some dramatic stab wounds. And he might not mention the casual air with which he wears it or how intentionally Caesar-like it is, instead opting to act as if it's just a sexy carelessness with which to charm the ladies (cough cough gents cough cough) at the party. I think he'd probably also be your regular film buff, wearing costumes referencing cult classics while quietly sneering at the people who don't get it. I think he kind of sluts it up on Halloween, too, always keen to keep all eyes on him and desperate to portray this irresistible playboy image of himself that Tony seems to keep up so casually.

Tony seems like he cares, but not quite as much, and while he probably spent his youth in homemade Cap costumes and cutely put-together Knight costumes, I think he probably goes for more classic, recognizable costumes now that he's in the public eye (like a classic vampire, skeleton-- whatever makes the trick-or-treating kids giggle). I feel like he probably likes to match people, too; I can see him matching Ty's more historical costumes contentedly, and later on matching Rumiko, and even later on matching the team with silly group costumes. He'll bring along two coconut halves and a clip-on swallow on his silly little Monty Python-inspired King Arthur costume and, if you don't get the joke, he'll brush it off with a casual and friendly, "Yeah, it's a neat movie, I'd really recommend it if that kind of humor's your thing." He'll be the Salt to your Pepper, the excellent host Dracula at the finest superhero Halloween party in town, the Batman to your Superman. I think Halloween is just fun for him, a chance to be something new and make people happy; he loves the built in meet-and-greet with all the child fans, he loves the team getting together, he loves the ability to post a quick picture on Facebook or Twitter or whatever he happens to be using (as he so rarely posts, in my opinion, and when he does, he likes to make it count) of everyone having fun. I think he's a holidays kind of guy, even with the bittersweetness and loneliness that sometimes comes with it.

Steve-- and this is partially influenced by the Cap to my Iron Man, Miss @welcomingdisaster -- feels like the opposite end of the spectrum from Ty. He's not here to fuck and he's not here to impress; he's just here to be kind of a white dad about it and crack a little dumb joke or something, with an "I forgot to buy a costume" T-shirt or a nametag with the wrong name on it. Not to reference The Office, but he comes across as the Jim of the team, always aiming for the lowest-effort costume that can pass as the silliest, dumbest joke. I think Jan would be politely and hilariously agonized by this, always trying to up his game and being (again, hilariously) devastated when this fails.

As for not-costume headcanons, I feel it relevant to mention that I think Tony comes across as the guy who's always trying to make sure everyone has the best time possible. He'll make Halloween night special for the kids passing through (with outrageous amounts of candy, labeled and separated so everyone can get their favorites-- he'd certainly be the man in the neighborhood who offers king-sized bars and light-up toys, as well), but he'll also find time in the season to throw a more adult party for more distant team members that he doesn't get to spend much time with; he'll have an open bar and he'll stay away from the drinks, he'll curate music for the guests to play through the parties, he'll hire local bakers to make spooky life-like cakes and Halloween-y desserts... I think he just wants to make people happy, and that makes it worth it to him.

Thank you for the ask! It was incredibly cute, and if there's anything else you'd like to know, feel free to drop another one. :)

#cassks #i have lots more thoughts... some of them contradictory #but that's what headcanons are for right

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pomegranates-and-blood · 3 years

Text

νοσταλγία (Chapter 28)

νοσταλγία Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar/Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: The usual

A/N: Sooo, second part of today’s update! Thank you for reading, hope you enjoy!

There were two chapters uploaded today, find the previous one here

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius @heavenly1927 @toe-vind-ek-jou @xbellaxcarolinax @pieces-by-me @angelofthorr @samsationalwilson @peachyboneless @1950schick @punkrocknpearls @ietss @psych0crybaby @revolution-starter

You never would have thought your husband to be one for repetition, for predictability.

But he’s been following the same pattern with the knife in his hand for a while now. The knife embedded on the wood of the table and quickly snatched back, one, two times. He spins the round-handled knife on his finger three times. Back to the table.

“That sound is maddening.” You quip, because you cannot help yourself.

“You still have the one I gave you, don’t you?” Ivar asks, and yet doesn’t stop the infuriating pattern. Knife on wood, knife on wood, one, two, three spins.

“Of course I do,” You reply after a moment, slightly affronted. You know it is foolish sentimentality, it was from the beginning, but you wouldn’t lose something that was gifted to you. “It was a gift.”

“Stithulf still bears the scar,” He comments, faint smile on his lips, what looks like pride curving his mouth. “You earned it.”

The Völva’s eyes set on you even if she pretends to be focused elsewhere, a knowing smile, the smile of someone that knows the ways of the Gods, curving her lips, “Every gift comes after dedication.”

“Every gift is earned.” You retort easily, but a part of you is still trying to venture past that strange fog of otherworldliness that clings to the wise woman’s words in your memories.

Another repetition. And another. You are in half a mind to say something, but instead you put your hand over his, stopping the movement and making his eyes meet your own.

A small smile, a movement of your wrist, and you make him drop his hold on the knife in exchange for holding your hand.

You only say his name, quietly, calmly, and wait for him to speak.

“Strepshire.” Is all Ivar says, and you frown.

His eyes are set stubbornly on the wooden table before him, and his hand twitches under the hold of yours, the pull to reach for the knife, to return to the maddening repetition obvious.

The knowledge that it was a nervous gesture combined with his tense stance makes you realize whatever nonchalance Ivar has about himself right now is but a lie.

“Yes?” You ask, quietly even if you are alone. This is the first time he has spoken of war or strategy with you outside of the room where he and his soldiers meet, so you cannot help it when your mind starts searching frantically for an answer as to why.

“Ubbe will leave soon to intercept Stithulf’s path to the city, but it seems…” He grimaces for a moment, a furrow in his nose, a press of his lips into a line, “convenient that he moves so carelessly now that he looks certain we are not coming after him directly.” The words are rough, like they are pulled from his lips painfully, one by one. It makes you wonder when was the last time Ivar went to someone that wasn’t one of his brothers for counsel, or the last time he had someone to listen to him.

“You think he is one step ahead, that there’s paths he can take that would leave your brother’s forces vulnerable. Like the paths you took when leading the Great Army through Wessex.” You finish, offering him a small smile when his surprised gaze lifts to meet yours.

“You studied our strategies?” He says, but he is not angry, nor irritated. You could almost swear he is proud.

You shrug in response.

“You interest me,” You say, and after a moment of enjoying the rare almost genuine smile that teases at his lips, you rest your arm on the table, your chin in your hand and ready yourself to listen. “So, tell me.”

He does.

Ivar tells you of what he thinks the Saxons may try to do, of what he would do in their place. He tells you of the countless ways his mind conjures up to take the city if he were in Stithulf’s place, ways he believes the Saxon can think of and move before he can react.

He talks and you listen, for so long that the moon makes quite a trek across the skies and Ivar’s voice grows a little hoarse.

“We need to move for that city. It is bad enough the Saxons have footing so close to our land,” Ivar growls, hand tightening over yours and controlled ire in his voice, “If they manage to get the kind of army Stithulf has in past those walls…”

“It begs for an invasion,” You finish for him, nodding, “And yet even if time is crucial, you agreed to give Hvitserk those two weeks to try for an advantage.” You point out quietly, eyes searching his. Ivar merely shrugs his shoulders and furrows his lips in response.

“I know my brother. He is up to something.”

Quietly, you say, “You did good by him earlier. He is very loyal to you, Ivar, and he loves you,” It is a very minuscule change that your words bring forth in the King, but you still notice the compulsive frown of his brows, the almost unwilling tightening of his mouth into a line. So, you ask, “You doubt it?”

He shrugs one shoulder, but remains otherwise still under your touch. There’s a grimace in his face that is to speak for nonchalance, but there’s a hint of something real and untapped in his pale eyes.

“None of the people here love me,” He explains simply, causing a frown to mar your features. After a breath of silence, Ivar cocks his head to the side and starts again, “You were the leader of the Greeks. They loved you, didn’t they?”

You take your hand from his, crossing your arms over your chest before you acquiesce with a nod, “My people loved me, yes. But you haven’t been King for long, it may take time. The people here can grow to love you.”

He insists with a shake of his head, gaze far away and a combination of desperation and despair taking over his expression.

“These people have known me since my birth,” Ivar explains, and beneath his words lies a special kind of anger, an anger maybe just his, an anger born out of years on end of pain and uncertainty, “I spent most of my life crawling around in the dirt, having to look up at everyone, like I was always kneeling in front of them. And even if I’m King now, they all see less than a man in me. What kind of Viking cannot even walk properly?”

You look into his pale eyes, a thousand insecurities, a thousand furies, a thousand pains written in them; and you cannot help the pang of protectiveness that takes over you.

A man almost double your size, who delights himself in death and suffering, who could kill you before you even knew it. But still, like you saw in those first few weeks, a man that hid under a cruel second skin made out of the scars of his past, a man that sometimes looks like he wants to give but does not know how to do anything but take.

And the part of you that is gentle and soft makes you want to hold each and every fragile part of him tight, to make him believe what you already know when you look at him; and the part of you that you shouldn’t allow to breathe whispers that he ought to make them pay for the mistake of underestimating him, with iron and blood.

Instead of giving voice to either, you offer, “You conquered regardless, it shouldn’t matter.”

“But it does matter!” Ivar exclaims, standing up from the table fast enough that the chair scratches against the wood of the floor. His stance falters at the quick movement, forcing him to steady himself with the hand on the table. He turns his back to you, but you still hear the waver in his words when he continues, low and almost manic, “You weren’t here, you…you don’t know. I’m nothing without these damn things, and none of the people here will forget it, no matter what I do. They will never see me as n-normal; they won’t see anything other than the useless cripple.”

His last words leave his lips like a snarl, and it is with a growl that he angrily throws the crutch at his side away from him. He still stands, his braces allow him to do so, and you watch frozen in place as his shoulders rise and fall with quick, livid breaths.

You stand up as well, heart beating in your ears and breaking in your chest, and although you want to approach him you hesitate to do so.

Instead, you try quietly, “Ivar…”

When he turns to face you, he looks lost, his pale eyes wide. Like long ago, he seems staggered at what he just voiced, taken aback by the vulnerability he showed once it is too late to keep you from being a witness to it.

And, like before, you only step closer, keeping your gaze on his and trying to stand strong against the storm that are him and his thoughts.

After a breath of hesitation, Ivar whispers, “I want to be like them, I-I want the people of Kattegat to love me, like they love Ubbe, like they once loved father,” His brow furrows and rises simultaneously, a futile attempt to recover the mask, and his glistening eyes look away from yours when he huffs a breath and breathes, “But they…they never will, will they? No one will ever see anything other than a half-man when they look at me,” The anger returns to his tone, and his lips curve once again into the familiar snarl, “I’d rather have them fear me.”

You remain silent for a few moments, trying to think on what to say, how to approach him. Were he any other man, were you not so unmoored by him and his warmth, were you stronger; and you would cross the distance between you, wrap your arms around his waist and rest your head on his chest, offer him the support, the comfort, he craves.

“My father was Spartan, a people much like yours, valuing warfare like no others,” You start quietly, toying with the amulet at your neck, the one he gifted your mother. “He used to say when a leader is loved, the enemy may only come from outside; while if one is feared or hated, the enemies will be both foreign and the people at his side.”

Ivar grunts in response, face twisted in a snarl for a moment as he looks away.

“I know how to deal with enemies.” He grits out at the end, and you hear the words he doesn’t say: I don’t know how to deal with a people that loves me.

And you should have known before, you realize. He chose to make you his wife against your own wishes, risking your scorn, your hate, because asking you to stay would mean he’d be left vulnerable to rejection. He chose to have you as an enemy at his side than to ask for you to be a wife, because for him it is easier to deal with enemies, to fight and be cruel, than it is to deal with allies, to trust and love.

The part of you kept alive like a powerful yet powerless sapling fighting against the strength of winter, that part that is trusting and gentle and kind, that part that is foolish and catches you admiring him with a stupid smile when he is not looking…that part wants to go to him, to take his face between your palms and…

But you can’t, so you walk to the abandoned crutch on the floor by one of the tables, and with more sureness in your steps than you feel, you approach the Viking, who watched your every move with intensity behind his gaze and now eyes you warily.

“Let them see you.” You state, extending your hand and offering him the crutch again. Ivar clenches his jaw, nose furrowed in the beginning of a snarl, and his eyes never stray from yours.

“What are you on about, woman?” He growls, but you refuse to back down, and move your hand again, bringing attention to the object you hold.

“You want them to love you, you want to show them you are more than what they think you are,” You say with no little certainty. Being hated is easy for a man like him, and it is not what he wants, you are sure. When Ivar still won’t take the crutch back in his hand, you grab his hand yourself and put his fingers over the worn wood. He tenses up, if at your touch or the reminder, you don’t know, but he still remains silent, eyes on yours. Even if angry, even if guarded, you see in his pale gaze that he listens. He always does, even when he pretends he doesn’t. With determination, you whisper, “Show them. It is not a weakness and they will not see it a such when you prove to them of such. The same will, the same determination, the same intellect that went into achieving all you have achieved; turn that into deeds for yo-…our people.”

“I am King, I will not grovel before them.” Ivar grows back, shaking his head.

You have a feeling that, King or not, he would not grovel for anything or before anyone. Still, you offer your advice,

“You won’t have to. Just…rule for them, not over them. There’s no secret,” You answer around a smile, because even if you have no idea how to be the Anassa your people want you to be, you know how you earned their love and admiration. Your voice is almost a whisper, and you hope he sees you don’t mean just in matters of ruling when you say, “But one cannot get without giving in return.”

You offer a barely-there shrug of your shoulders when he remains silent, looking up into his eyes.

“You have answers to everything, don’t you?” He quips, a hint of genuine irritation in his voice that only makes your stupid heart grow fonder.

“Oh, no. I just improvise with good results,” You laugh quietly, one of your hands treacherously going up and toying with one of the buckles of the armor on his chest, “I believe in you, Ivar, I know you can do anything you set your mind to. I-If I can, I want to be by your side when you do.”

He leans, maybe sways, maybe stumbles, closer to you, towering over you with soft eyes. Ivar’s mouth curves slightly, almost miraculously, on a small, genuine smile.

“If I didn’t know better, I would think the Gods sent you to me.”

You have never seen his expression as soft as it is now as he gazes at you, lips curved and slightly parted, a little bit of color in his ears and the top of his cheeks, eyes so unbearably open and vulnerable.

You lift your hand from its place by his heart, and in the brief moment you can pretend there’s not a world past him, you allow your fingers to trace the side of his face, to stop on the scar on his cheekbone that you’ve been drawn to since that first day.

You both pretend not to notice Ivar jump slightly at your touch, just like you both pretend your eyes don’t threaten to flutter shut when he presses his brow against yours.

His expression sends a pang of fear, and excitement, and…something to your heart, and you wish you could be brave and do what your heart begs you to, but instead you lift your eyebrows in sardonic question.

“With all the ways we drive each other mad, you think the Gods fated this?” You ask around a smile of your own, genuine and a little scared, because you cannot help it.

Ivar shrugs in response, blinking slowly, “I have heard stranger tales.”

____

I’m just blue-balling everyone at this point, characters and readers, and I wish I could say that I’m sorry. They are gettin there, I just enjoy slow burn too much lol

Thank you for reading, I hope you liked this chapter! I would love to hear your thoughts on this one!! Thank you, I love you all!!!

#ivar the boneless x reader #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless imagine #ivar the boneless #ivar #νοσταλγία masterlist

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