#she was ready to marry a pot of chili

[bubblyani]

Soothe

(Jim Davis x Reader)

A Jim Davis One Shot Fandom: Harsh Times (2005)

Request by : @leospinkprint​​​

Summary: Your husband Jim Davis, comes home after his first day of work since his return from the Army. Seeing him so exhausted makes you want to provide him the comfort he needed. And to both your benefit, things heat up. Rating: 18+ Warnings: Swearing and Sexual Themes Word Count: 2.5k+ Author’s Note: Oh! I was so happy to see a Jim request cause Bale played that character to perfection. Such an underrated character on screen. And given his canon situation, I think the man deserves some happiness in his life, yeah? Given the request, i went a bit further to smutty town. So to all the Jim frustrated readers, Hope y’all Enjoy!

A pot of Chili never fails to look appetizing. Yet, when the mouthwatering dish stands above the stove, and red bubbles form and does a passionate dance to the rhythm of the flames beneath, the level of appeal skyrockets. And it was the sight you indulged in the kitchen this fine evening.

Your hips swayed in subtle motion to the Banda* music played in KLAX FM*, the radio station of your choice, all the while you kept stirring the pot. A hum of satisfaction left your lips the moment they tasted the chili: Explosive with flavor. Your senses were awakened deeper than before.

Dinner was almost ready. Nodding to oneself, you made an involuntary turn towards the fridge to your left. Eyes did not hesitate to find a particular photo held on by the smiley magnet on the fridge door. Photo of two people: You and Jim. Jim Davis. Your husband. It was a photo taken only a few weeks ago. Smiles were in abundance with the two of you holding each other when it was taken on your wedding day. Dressed simple, with you in a knee length white lace dress, and him in his suit sporting his buzz cut. Jim promised to marry you as soon as he returned from his service in Iraq. And he did. Thus, a simple ceremony of registering at LA City Hall was more than enough for the two of you with Your best friends attending as witnesses. Including Jim’s very own Mike Alonzo.

Hope you like it. Smiling at the Jim in the photo, you thought.

And, lo and behold, the sound of the front door opening reached your ears. Excitement filled in you.

“Baby, is that you?” Your inquiry carried out throughout as you looked at the clock. 9 pm.

“Yeah…” It was the deep, male voice you longed to hear, that answered from afar. You chuckled: 
“I made you your favorite. I mad-” You paused when he finally made himself seen to you. Leaning against the kitchen door, his tall frame was accentuated with his suit. Jim Davis may have dressed ‘fancy’, but his expression was far from it. In fact it was dead-beat. And you could do nothing but sigh:

“Oh boy…” you began, offering him a warm smile, “Why don’t you go wash up first?”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The feeling of exhaustion after a long day’s work was not unfamiliar to you. In fact, you had that moment a few hours before. Yet, the sight of your husband looking just as exhausted only after his first day of his new job, somehow saddened you. Returning to normal life, after all the war and violence, Jim Davis certainly struggled in job hunting at first. But thanks to Mike and a few others, luck was on his side when he got employed in a Security Company. One that provided protection to High Level Clientele in Los Angeles.  

With the Chili finally done, you waltzed your way through the small apartment. A quick glance at the empty bathroom suggested he finished washing up. This apartment, it was your home. It was the home you lived for as long as you could remember after high school. Ends had to be met, and you did so by working as soon as you graduated school. Elena Tía* was a sensible Landlady, kind enough to let you live here for 3/4 of the rent, while the rest was paid off with helping her with chores. Year passed, and Elena grew to treat you more like the daughter she never had. When she finally passed away, her son was understanding enough to let you stay. Paying the rent in full, you accepted it.

Leaning against the bedroom door, you found your husband inside. The room was fragrant with shower gel. Sitting on the side of the bed in a white tee and black sweatpants, he was fresh but still exhausted.

“Hey, here let me-” You said, grabbing the towel from him. Sitting behind him on the bed, you sat on your knees before proceeding to dry his head.

“Thanks” Jim grunted, his eyes still looking down. Aside from his grunt, silence reigned supreme. With the special exception of the radio that played softly from the kitchen. And the sound of the towel as you wiped his head in rhythmic motion.

No words were further spoken. And in all honesty, you were not bothered. Silence was the route taken by some when exhausted. And Jim Davis was one of them. But he did not expect you to be that.

“Well, you did it” you began, “First day, Done” “Yep” Short and low was his answer. You smiled. Any minute now. “So I’m guessing they found you client to work with on the first day?” 
“Oh, no shit, babe…” Sighing, Jim began. There it is, you suppressed a smile as he continued to talk, “So, this guy that we had to watch, he was some asshole! Fucking getting on my nerves the whole time” with his usual tone, he kept going, “And when he found out I was the new guy, it just got worse”

“Ugh! What a Jerk!” you sighed, “Well, he may be rich, but he ain’t smart. What’s he doing? Messing with the people who actually there to save his ass? Pity he will never appreciate” “But you know what will? his money…” “Heh! Well, fingers crossed” You replied, inciting chuckles from both. Yet, your heart felt a slight pang. Your Jim, he always pride himself to be a good soldier and fighter. And now look at what he was forced to do, “I’m sorry you have to put up with this, Jim” you sighed, your wiping movement slowing down, “It’s my fault. You didn’t have to take this job-” “Hey! Hey! Don’t say that” Soft yet quick, Jim replied with his head in a slight turn, “I’m lucky they even hired me after all the LAPD bullshit” he added, “Besides, we can finally be together, babygirl” voice filled with gladness, he held your chin with a soft smile. Your returned with a smile of your own: “Yeah, You’re gonna get something better than this soon, baby. I know it” 
Finishing off the drying, your hands found home on his shoulders to massage. A sigh of relief from him gave you the green light to proceed, even allowing you to take his t-shirt off. His tense aura, it began to loosen up as your hands felt through his toned frame. He was gorgeous, and you never got enough of admitting that. Whilst loosening his tightened shoulders, you did not hesitate to move your hands to his neck, to travel down his back to focus on every muscle. Jim threw his head back with another sigh: “Ah…this… is perfect” “Good” All the sudden,  you began to chuckle. “What? What is it?” “It’s just that-” you paused, “I cant believe I actually gave you a massage at the end of our first date” you continued, “Remember? In the car?” “Oh yeah…that was nice” he gave out a mischievous chuckle, “And uh…the kiss after that wasn’t so bad either” You giggled, “Best payment ever” “That moment, that’s when I knew you were a keeper” he said, still looking ahead as if he was reminiscing. “Why?” You scoffed, “Cause I give good massages?…”

“Cause in just a few hours, your hands knew me better than anyone else”

He may be humming away in pleasure, yet only you knew how much those words affected you. A sense of warmth came over you. He always knew what to say to make you freeze, to switch you up, to light you up, to fire you up.

And those hums grew louder. Deep and resonant. And attractive. Hums with confidence to tease you. But you resisted. Tonight was about him. To comfort him. To soothe him after his long day.

However, it did not entail not having a little fun of your own.

“Ah! Fuck! baby…” A soft cry left Jim when your lips planted kisses on the back of his neck. Kisses so slow and attentive, each more appreciative than the one before.

“You did so good today, baby. I’m so proud of you” Your praises were in whispers between kisses. All the while your hands held on to his biceps. And so, his hums morphed into moans.

“Fuck!…Baby gimme some sugar” His hand grabbed yours in desperation, struggling to pull you towards him. It was a choreography you both knew. The one that would lead to something heavenly.

Except tonight, you pulled away. It was difficult to. Yet you did. “Baby, No! YOU need to relax-” Until his kiss shushed you.

“YOU…help me relax” He uttered. Folding his knee on the bed, his attention was all on you. His eyes, they were convincing, offering you plenty reasons as to why he was desperate for those lips of yours to treat his very own again. And in all honesty, you had no reasons to object. His scent intoxicated you, making dramatic entrances into your nostrils. The mixture of shower gel with his natural scent, it was the perfect combination. Nothing about him repulsed you at that moment. Those strong shoulder blades your hands had the privilege to massage, those tattooed biceps, those reactive hums and moans.

They were all enough for you to fold in, to give in to his wishes as your lips took hold on his.

His kiss, it reminded you of all that. And how much you missed them since this morning.

Oh, his kiss. Tonight, it was a slow fire that just started to burn. An incredibly slow fire. These kisses were slower than the ones you shared on your first date. You were surprised yourself as to how controlled these kisses were. For any other night, kissing Jim Davis would be a roller coaster ride full of intoxication, driving you with selfishness.

But tonight, you were far from selfish. You were filled with purpose. You longed to please him, to soothe him. And your lips understood that too well. With the tongues making their entrances, they held tight, dancing a slow rumba. Enamored by the simplicity yet the intoxication of the kisses, you did not even notice Jim pulling you towards him, only to wrap his arms around your waist. Gasps left you when his lips decided to reach for your neck. And his hands reached for your buttocks. You knew where this would lead to.

“Hey! Hey!” You breathed, “Slow down!” Chuckling, you added “You haven’t even had dinner yet.” “Mmm…It can wait” With his voice so deep, your ears were soothed in an instant. Enough to be distracted when he pulled the straps of your chemise down. Slow. His kisses traveled far down to greet your shoulders and collarbone, “Fuck! It can definitely wait” he added with excitement.

Like a predator pouncing with greed, his hungry lips savored the skin of your now-exposed breasts, kissing every inch in a controlled pace soon after the first attack. His lips acknowledged the curves, while his tongue amplified the erect nature of your nipples by latching on to each of them.

“Ah! Jim!” Throwing your head back, your knees grew weak. Butterflies exploded in your stomach and his lips were to blame. He seemed to indulge in the slow pace as much as you did. Even when his greedy tongue embraced your erect buds with passion, even when he sucked them, hard. Even when he paused between to place more kisses on the skin. You winced with every move. You swore you would turn into jello. But you were once again reminded of who was to pleasure whom tonight.

Thus, you surprised him by pushing Jim back to the bed. And he could only let out a hearty laugh.

“Hah! Oh baby…” his tone changed to seductive, “Oh! I love the view”  He purred, his eyes growing dark by the sight of you peeling your chemise off your body, leaving you nothing but naked.

“Well” you began, “…you’re gonna love the feeling even more, baby” Another hearty laughter erupted from him. With his own head thrown back, he bucked his hips to help you pull his sweatpants down. He acknowledged the treatment with moans and hums when your eager hands held his hardened shaft that sprung out. “You did so good today” you breathed. Your touch was gentle, as your fingers grazed it, stroking it gingerly till your mouth watered with desire, “So, so good. You deserve a treat”

He cried your name out loud the moment your lips took charge to taste him in completion. The moment he was at the complete mercy of your mouth.

“Ah! Baby! I love it when you do that” he moaned, whilst your head bobbed up and down, slow. Very, very slow. He was delicious. And he always left you satisfied every single time. Thus, your indulgence was as sincere as it could be.

Drowning in pleasure, Jim Davis’ frustration was translated via swears through gritted teeth, and moans. His aroused expression finding a perfect fit between your lips, caused a part of you to form some jealousy. A jealousy that made itself known by the wetness that formed between your thighs.

“Fuck-” “You close, baby?” You inquired, making a pop sound when your lips left his shaft. Only Jim decided to answer by sitting up to grab your chin, placing a passionate kiss on your lips.

“Oh Fuck me, Jim” you breathed, “I’m so wet for y-” 
Were they magic words?

For you could not comprehend how Jim Davis was able to change positions, pulling you fast enough to push you down to bed, only to hover you. All occurred in a flash, and your cries of pleasure brought you back to the senses when his erect manhood, finally entered your wet opening.

Even in the throws of love making, slow pace was maintained. And it felt different. Tonight, Jim was not the animal that had not eaten for days. Tonight, it was sensual and soothing as the music that played in the kitchen. Pleasurable, yet calming. Holding on to him with your legs wrapped around his waist, you could only stare into those hazel eyes of his. No words exchanged, yet his eyes thanked you, along with his hurried breathing. The exhaustion he had brought home, was kicked out the door by then. He was simply alive. His slow, rhythmic movement was proof enough.

And the speed of which you both reached the final mark with fireworks was also another confirmation.

“Fuuuuck…” Jim drawled, panting “Definitely my favorite kind of massage” “Perv” you said, rolling your eyes, inciting chuckles from both. A contented sigh left your lips, with the realization of how every intimate moment with him, proved to be unforgettable, “I made you Chili, your favorite” “YES! Cause now I’m starvin” Sitting up on his elbows, Jim glanced your way. “What?” You inquired, returning the look. Except he merely smiled. A smile full of content.

“I love you, baby” Those words, they melt you every time. They sealed the deal when he became your boyfriend. They sealed it further when he became your husband. And they will continue to seal this relationship more and more every single time. Leaning forward, you placed the softest kiss on his lips:

“I love you too, Jim”

——————————————————

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[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

Cult Girl: Doctorate (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 8

Cult girl and Hannibal go through an exhaustive list of potential adoptive couples. 

@wisesandwichshark

Trigger warning: sexual harassment, christianity, discussion of pregnancy and family planning, adoption, murder and cannibalism 

Step two: find an adoptive family.

Some would say your list of expectations for potential adoptive parents was too extensive. Impossible for any human to reach. But it was really just the bare minimum.

Regardless of if they were two men, two women, one of each, or a few people, the parents had to be trustworthy. It wasn't easy to earn Hannibal's trust, but he could recognize those who had the capacity to right away. It was a little instinct you had dubbed 'friend or food'.

On paper, the apostolic pastor and his wife of 19 years seemed like the perfect candidates. The adoption agency tried to push them on you, as they had a great track record with adopting from them prior. Three boys, all of which were honors students.

Hannibal insisted on a formal introduction, during which you could conduct a proper, though surreptitious, interview. It was an invitation to dinner.

He invited the couple into his office, where a pot of tea and an interrogation was waiting for them. Then there was you. Barely-pregnant little [F/N], feeling entirely safe so long as your fiancé was beside you.

"You're doing the right thing, y'know." The woman, who introduced herself as Mrs. Landon, said upon meeting you.

"How do you mean?" You asked, already knowing the answer.

"All god's life is precious." She said, placing a hand on your not-even-remotely-showing-yet stomach. "You're walking in obedience to the lord by giving this child a shot at life."

Strike one: bringing up religion unprompted. Strike two: touching me without asking first.

You wanted to swat her hand away, but remembered that patience was a virtue. She and her husband took a seat across from you.

"Y'know," The man began, his mannerisms eerily similar to those of his wife. "I don't usually begin with the god talk, but I think a higher power had to have been involved in the conception of this- well, our child. I'd like to think the good lord brought us together today."

Strike three: already believes he is entitled to my child. You're outta here.

"Don't flatter the adoption agency like that, Jacob." Hannibal chuckled, placing his teacup on the side table.

"I'm serious, Dr. Lecter." Jacob interjected. "Faith and I really do believe that god put us on this earth to prepare his smallest soldiers for the spiritual war."

You shot Hannibal a side glance that said 'can we please just eat them now?'.

The answer was no. Hannibal liked to play with his food.

"And your adult children have all moved out?" He asked.

"That's right." Jacob nodded. "We have plenty of room in our five-bedroom house for the new little slugger to run around in."

"And if it's a girl!" The wife interrupted. "We have enough closet space for all the denim maxi-skirts money could buy."

Strike four: arbitrarily genders the behavior of a nine-week-old embryo.

The man then returned the teacup to the table, not bothering to use the saucer and instead leaving a nasty ring of condensation on the polished mahogany.

"Okay." Hannibal huffed, resignedly rising from his seat. He pulled two hypodermic needles from his back pocket and carefully, subtly stuck them onto the couples' necks. They couldn't even scream.

The tacos al pastor that followed (after a few days of marinating, of course) were exquisite.

The next week brought a new couple to your doorstep. Frank and Angela, they were named. Their claim to fame was that their oldest son played football for one of those big southern party schools. Either Auburn or Alabama. There was hardly a difference.

You sat for what felt like hours listening to the man speak in unintelligible football babble, waiting for him to take a breath. Surprisingly, it was the mom who got him to finally shut up.

"Frank, please." She said with more frustration than this one situation even remotely warranted. Either she had enough intuition to know she was being tested, or she’d spent the last decade putting up with this. Possibly both. "You're boring our hosts to death."

"What? No way! She loves it!" Frank replied, then turned to you. Not to Hannibal, just you. “Aren’t you having a great time, sweetheart?” 

Strike one: takes advantage of the female socialization to be passive and polite, allowing himself to take up the most space.

You shook your head. “I hate football.” 

His wife looked quite pleased with herself. 

“Angie, I just wanted her to know what good breeding her son is going to have.” He said, without a lick of irony or self-awareness. He eyed you up and down and licked his lips. “And it is mutual, I see.” 

The room went quiet as everyone tried to determine whether he was serious or if it was just a fucked-up joke. The longer the silence lingered, the more you realized he wasn’t kidding. Angela looked like she wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

“I don’t know what the agency told you, Mr. Wyatt,” Hannibal said, trying not to grit his teeth. “She isn’t a surrogate. She’s already pregnant.” 

Frank’s jaw hung dumbly open. “I thought you were looking for a sperm donor? I just-” 

“No.” You cut him off, raising your hand and covering your face. “I don’t want to know what you thought.” 

“Well, I would!” Angela interjected, righteous fury eclipsing what should have been crippling embarrassment. “What exactly did you think this was, Francis?” 

“The file said that he was over fifty, so I just assumed--” Frank rationalized, his voice far too loud for the room. “Y’know? That she wanted a baby that wouldn’t come out all funny-looking?” 

“You’re disgusting.” You blurted out. 

“Francis Howard Wyatt,” Angela scolded as if she were talking to her son. “You are forty-eight and the only increasing part of your body is your blood pressure. Why on Earth would any woman choose you over her smart, handsome doctor fiancé?”

This made Hannibal sit up a little straighter. He wanted Francis on the butcher’s block yesterday, but he momentarily considered letting Angela live. 

“They’re not married?” Frank whispered, or whatever the loud-aggressive-toxic-masculinity version of whispering was. He paused, as the dead hamster on the wheel powering his brain crept back to life. “That actually makes sense.” 

Angela loudly smacked her hand against her face. “Dr. Lecter, Ms. [L/N], I am so sorry.” 

“It’s quite alright, Mrs. Wyatt.” Hannibal stood up, readying the next batch of needles. “It just makes what I’m about to do easier.” 

It took quite a bit of restraint to not make their deaths hurt, but he made up for it when it came time to carve. He had fun running his fittingly small penis through a meat grinder. Not with any intent to cook it, though. Just because. 

Hannibal wanted to make Francis Wyatt into the least dignified meal imaginable. You quickly recalled going to a friend’s barbeque in Georgia and encountering a horrendously Southern delicacy known as Frito Pie. You proposed the idea to Hannibal, who, after reviling in abject horror at the notion of eating something out of a bag, agreed that it was the most fitting end. He could spare a few pounds of flesh to grind up and make into chili. 

The third week brought yet another couple. They seemed smart enough to realize your invitation wasn't the friendly olive branch the others had interpreted it as. Their healthy skepticism was refreshing, to say the least. Then, you met them: Max and Archie.

"You'll have to forgive my partner's paranoia." Max said upon entering the house. He tugged playfully at Archie's hand. "We watched Get Out recently, so an invitation to the suburbs sounded some alarms in his sleep-deprived brain."

"I love that movie." You chimed in. "It reminds me of my family."

"Oh no." Archie's eyes widened in only half-pretend fear. He shot an I-told-you-so look in his partner's direction. 

"But my favorite horror flick has to be Midsommar." You added. "My friends and I saw a midnight screening and we didn't sleep at all that night."

"But have you seen Hereditary?" Archie posited.

"Of course." You shrugged. "Aster is totally genius."

You made more than just polite conversation with the couple. Max, despite his young age, was a skilled data analyst and day trader. He attributed his success to the hard work of his immigrant parents. Archie was an environmental lawyer and land activist. He was also a bit of a thrill junkie, indulging in everything from scary movies to bungee jumping.

It didn't take long to realize that you wouldn't be eating them. They were far too pleasant of company to eat.

"So when is this baby planning to make its entrance?" Archie asked, gesturing to you. "You don’t look all that pregnant to me."

You put your hand over your slightly-protruding stomach. "Late August, I believe. If everything goes according to plan."

"You're not far along at all, aren’t you?" Max observed. "That gives us plenty of time to prove ourselves to you."

"Believe me." You put up your hand. "You're doing a great job so far."

“If you like horror stories, we might have to indulge you in the last two encounters we had.” Hannibal commented, leaning back comfortably in his chair. That was a good sign. “No blood was spilled, thank god. Would have ruined my carpets. But believe me when I tell you it came very close.” 

The couple laughed along. Archie leaned in like he was about to tell a life-shattering secret. “You wouldn’t believe the hoops we had to jump through to even have the chance to adopt. And I don’t want to say that it’s because we’re an interracial gay couple, but...” 

“Agencies aren’t exactly colorblind.” You finished, via his prompting. 

“She gets it.” Archie pointed to you. “See, Maxie? She agrees with me.” 

Max pushed his glasses up his nose. “I never said I disagreed.” 

You spent the rest of the afternoon waiting for the conversation to take a sharp left turn off a cliff, but it didn’t happen. They were wonderful company; polite, intelligent and articulate. Exactly the kind of people you’d want to see taking care of your child. 

You’d have to look for you next meal elsewhere. 

[forasecondtherewedwon]

Hex Life

Fandom: WandaVision Pairing: Darcy Lewis/Jimmy Woo Rating: E Chapters: 10/10 Word Count: 34k

Summary: Guest starring Agent James E. Woo as himself and introducing Dr. Darcy Lewis as Mrs. Darcy Woo!

Or: Darcy and Jimmy are sent into the Hex to retrieve Captain Monica Rambeau. Finding out Westview has cast them as a married couple is only the first of the surprises that await them.

read ch. 1 one / 2 two / 3 three / 4 four / 5 five 6 six / 7 seven / 8 eight / 9 nine / 10 ten

this fic is now complete!

Jimmy’s going to be a dad. He was going to be a dad in a black-and-white sitcom world and now he’s going to be a dad in a world on the regular spectrum, so the colours really aren’t as big a deal as his impending fatherhood. Possible fatherhood. As much as he’s always secretly wanted his own little Jimmy Woo Jr., he didn’t know if it would be in the cards for him—pun obviously intended—and the last thing he wants to do is influence Darcy either way, especially since he’s only known her a couple days and doesn’t have a clue if a baby was really part of her life plan.

It can’t just be rose-coloured glasses making him see his wife warming to the idea though; when she continues down the hall ahead of Jimmy and Monica, he spots her careful cradling of the baby bump. He can barely stand not touching her. The instinct to shelter others has always been one of his strongest and now he feels it intensely. He longs to protect Darcy, to hold Darcy, to love— Well. Jimmy clears his throat at the very thought and Monica gives him a suspicious side-eyed glance.

“Dry throat,” he lies, tapping his neck in a probably highly unconvincing gesture.

“Uh huh.”

Yeah, she doesn’t sound convinced.

He’s rescued by a burst of sound from the bedroom and dashes ahead of Monica in case Darcy’s in trouble. When he bangs the bedroom door fully open, she’s fine. She’s laughing. He sighs and looks where she points. The queen-sized mattress they shared has changed back to a pair of narrower beds.

“Seriously,” Jimmy says flatly.

“Well, the big bed worked its magic,” Darcy concedes. She pats her rounded stomach. “Mission accomplished.”

“Aw jeeze.”

Ignoring his distress, she sits on the end of the closest bed.

“What I like is that they’re magically made. I didn’t end up having to change the sheets. This is really the next step in home technology.”

“Honey, don’t encourage the magical forces that control our home décor,” he pleads, beckoning until Darcy rises and takes his outstretched hand.

“Better than getting on their bad side. In the AI uprising, you wanna make sure you’re friends with the robots.”

This is an outrageous statement coming from a credible scientist, so Jimmy squints down at her for a minute before saying, “Thanks, house,” aloud, just in case appeasing the Hex now saves him from being closed into a room with no door later, if the walls rearrange to form the ’70s model of their current home.

“You did the smart thing,” Darcy assures him.

As they leave the room, she keeps hold of his hand. He shoots adoring glances at her.

“Hey, Monica,” she says, calling to their guest, who seems to have gone to investigate the walk-in closet. “Accommodations aren’t going to be a problem. I can give you some pajamas too because I think I own at least a dozen pairs, as I’m sure you’ve already discovered…”

But when they look in the closet it’s… not a closet.

“Or maybe the Hex destroyed all my pajamas and I should take back my overtures of friendship,” Darcy corrects.

“Welcome to your nursery,” Monica says. “I’m guessing from the look on Jimmy’s face that this is new.”

It’s spartan, but there’s no doubt in Jimmy’s mind that the room is now intended to be exactly what Monica said. There’s a crib in pieces on the carpet and a rocking chair in the corner. Though he can’t remember this room having even one window, there are now two. The blinds are drawn against the night and curtains patterned with stars and streaking comets hang from a rod mounted above the window. Automatically, he pulls Darcy into his side. He feels her rest her head on his shoulder.

“Man, the Hex is really giving us the hard sell,” she comments.

Just like that, he’s guiding her around by her upper arms and propelling her from the room. He glances over his shoulder to see Monica following with an amused smile. At his nod, she pulls the door shut.

“Ignore it,” Jimmy tells Darcy. “Don’t let that room influence you.”

“Oh, like that’s easy.” She rolls her eyes.

“I know it’s hard not to picture reading Jimmy Junior to sleep in his crib, or watching him learn to roll himself over on the carpet, or cuddling him in your arms in the rocking chair as the morning light—”

“Jimmy Junior?” Darcy asks, interrupting Jimmy’s rapidly solidifying daydream.

“You know what? I’m starving,” Monica announces, putting a hand on each of their shoulders to head off the awkward pause. “How about you two show me some hospitality? I’ve had a long day of being mind-controlled.”

“How ’bout some comfort food?” he asks. “I make a mean bowl of chili.”

“Sounds great.”

So, Jimmy cooks for them. His attention is unequally divided between the simmering pot, Monica leaning against the counter next to him as she recounts the scene at the meeting when Wanda went to take his call, and Darcy sifting pickily through the contents of their fridge. He glances over after putting the lid on the pot to let the chili finish cooking and sees his wife contemplatively holding an egg like it’s Yorick’s skull. Ok, well, he’s just going to leave her to her thoughts.

He sets bowls of chili for himself and Monica on the dining room table. Darcy, justifiably finnicky, takes longer to decide what she’ll be able to stomach, reflexively rubbing the baby bump as she plunders their kitchen. Finally, she comes to sit down. She’s brought a spoon. That’s it. Jimmy’s going to ask, but Darcy just scoots her chair close to his and takes intermittent mouthfuls of his serving while the conversation continues on. He sighs in unannoyed exasperation and alternates dips of his spoon with hers.

It’s just another weird routine they’ve settled into, and like everything else, it didn’t take long.

“You two didn’t know each other before this assignment, right?” Monica checks, motioning between Darcy and Jimmy with a slice of buttered toast.

“No, why?” Darcy asks, dropping a chunk of tomato from her spoon onto his. (Apparently, she doesn’t like tomatoes.)

Monica smiles and says, “No reason.”

She seems ready to accept them as they are, whatever they are. She goes back over the events of this afternoon for Darcy’s benefit—who was zoned out staring at an egg at the time—then the three of them turn to talk of tomorrow. What does Monica feel she needs to try before she’s willing to concede and leave the Hex with them? What can she try? How can Jimmy and Darcy assist her? They talk themselves in a circle of possibilities, limitations, and Monica’s unswerving negative answer to suggestions of her leaving the Hex without getting through to Wanda. Eventually, they decide that the best plan may be no plan, since they’re up against Westview’s ever-shifting magical properties.

“We’ll get up in the morning and see what the world looks like,” Monica says.

Jimmy’s going to reply when the Captain’s expression alters.

“Are you remembering?” Darcy asks her astutely. Monica stares at her. “I don’t want to pry, I’ve just seen that look on a lot of people’s faces lately. People who came back.”

“This isn’t dissimilar,” Monica admits. “When I get anywhere near Wanda or the other characters with speaking parts and start to lose control to… Geraldine—” Jimmy thinks the look on her face is both disgusted and deeply hurt. “—I do get this feeling like the world is going on without me. Only I’m there. I’m right there. I haven’t made up my mind yet if it’s worse than being gone entirely then coming back to find nothing’s the same.”

“Yeah,” Darcy says, soft, sympathetic.

“I don’t know what else the members of this community have been through, but I know I don’t want them to have to keep going through this too. I can’t imagine how tight Wanda’s grip is on the people who were here when she started this. Not sure I’m qualified to be the one to tell her how to let go of her grief and move on.”

Monica blinks quickly and gives a forced smile.

“That was good chili, Jimmy.”

He nods in thanks because he can’t find the right words to say.

They’re all carrying something and Jimmy thinks about that as the three of them clean up, then splinter off to get ready for bed, tired for different and shared reasons. (He changes into his pajamas in the nursery—they found their clothing in a new, regular-sized closet in the bedroom—while Monica and Darcy take the bathrooms.) The Captain’s carrying her recent bereavement and the unignorable sense of responsibility she feels to help Wanda and the Westviewers, possibly precisely because she isn’t ready to confront her own loss. Darcy’s doing some literal carrying with the baby bump her pajama top is buttoned over when she steps out of the en suite bathroom to let Jimmy in to brush his teeth. She’s an astrophysicist who, while studying a television diversion from reality, was brought rudely back to earth by circumstances as real as they come.

What Jimmy’s carrying is actually carrying him: his hope. It’s a good thing to have in his line of work, but a tough thing to keep when the world’s been through what it has. A baby is the least likely and most longed-for thing he would’ve confessed to wanting if someone asked him what was missing from his life.

When it’s acknowledged through awkward glances that, yes, Monica’s taking one of the beds and Jimmy and Darcy will share the other, he climbs under the covers his wife holds open for him. She rolls away from him to lie on her side and he gets comfortable on his back. The Hex has definitely eased up on what it wants for their romantic development because this is the first time he’s been in bed with Darcy and not felt himself caving to the need to have sex with her. Oh, the desire to touch her is as powerful as ever, but the kind of touching he craves is as tender as the flesh of that peach he brought her earlier in the day.

But he doesn’t want to crowd her. Figuratively or literally. Between finding Monica and calling Wanda, making love to Darcy all afternoon and being presented with her pregnant belly in the evening, it’s been a dog’s breakfast of a day. The mission abruptly became just the second most daunting thing he needs to pull off. Now, he’s driven by the impulse to be near Darcy. She doesn’t know it, but she’s drawing him in like gravity and he can only cross his fingers for a soft landing.

Jimmy almost jumps when she reaches for him in the dark, hand feeling behind her until it finds his. She drags his arm over her and he flips onto his side to make it easier. Though Darcy lets him go when his arm’s around her, he doesn’t know where to rest his hand. Tentatively, he places it over her belly and she wriggles back into him. Heart bursting, he holds her more securely to his body, smooths his hand over the bump, and soon falls asleep.

—

The floor wakes him up. He’s just fallen out of bed.

Disoriented, Jimmy sits up in a tangle of comforter and squints at his bed companion in the morning light. They must’ve repositioned while they slept, but that alone wasn’t what forced him to and over the edge—he can see the shape of Darcy’s belly beneath the sheet. It’s noticeably larger than it was yesterday.

He’s still trying to come to terms with that when she sleepily grasps the comforter and yanks it back over her body. Jimmy chuckles and rises into a stretch. Monica’s bed is empty and neatly made, so she must be up already. Before entering the Hex, his internal clock was strict too. Since, he bends to the needs of his subconscious, which seems happiest when it’s allowed to sleep in, particularly if Darcy’s warming the sheets next to him. This is only their third day in Westview and the second time waking up here, but it feels wonderfully routine. As satisfying as completing his consistently-timed morning run or pouring exactly the right amount of milk into his cereal.

Although he’d like to let Darcy sleep, it’s weird now because he’s staring. Anyway, they need to tighten up their operations even further today if they’re going to get out of here soon. Monica requires either success or closure with Wanda, so Jimmy’s determined to help with that. And if Darcy’s pregnancy takes another leap forward, well… that’s another time crunch to consider.

She’s lying on her side, facing him, belly in the space where he fell asleep. Gently, he brushes hair out of her face and strokes lightly up and down her arm.

Darcy gives him a murmured “Hi” with her eyes still shut.

“You gonna get up?”

“Inaminute,” she promises, words running together.

“Alright.”

Jimmy hovers for a second, then darts down to kiss her forehead. She pats his shoulder clumsily in response.

He might as well have had his own eyes shut, blind to everything but Darcy, because it takes opening his wardrobe to realize Monica was correct—everything’s changed again. WandaVision has embraced the ’70s. The shirts and suits he was pretty comfortable with have been traded out. Those items still exist, but now they’re aggressively patterned. There are flared pant legs. There is so much corduroy. Out of the row of shoes tucked into the bottom on his side of the closet, half have platform heels.

“Oh god,” Jimmy groans softly, sifting through for something that won’t feel too much like a cheesy costume.

He ends up with jeans—his only pair of pants without a pattern—and a striped shirt with wide lapels. The Hex’s makeover of his closet has him so beaten down that he doesn’t even pick out a jacket. He doesn’t have the heart for business casual. At the sight of a long-sleeved jumpsuit, Jimmy closes the closet door securely. They have to get out of here. This will be the thing that breaks him.

Slouching into the bathroom, he drops his selections on the counter and takes a shower. As he washes his hair, his fingers slow their scrubbing. Is his hair… longer? He finishes quickly and steps out to find the mirror fogged with steam. He wipes it clean with his forearm, examining his reflection. This place isn’t through with him yet: the Hex has given him a mustache.

Jimmy screams.

“Fine!” Darcy shouts back to his wordless noise of dismay. “I’m up! God, you could’ve just set an alarm and OH MY GOD, HAVE YOU SEEN THE SIZE OF THIS BABY BUMP?!”

He sighs on behalf of himself and his wife, slicks his too-long wet hair back with a comb, then starts in on shaving off the mustache. It immediately grows back.

“Come on,” he complains, cursing the Hex. “Why’d you give me a razor then?!”

Luckily, his annoyance fades the minute he sees Darcy. She’s swearing up a storm about needing to pee and her head looking too small for her body because the Hex has straightened her hair, but he takes all of her restless irritation in with a dazed smile on his face. Adjusting her glasses—now almost circular, with rounded off corners—she catches sight of his new look and erupts into laughter. Whatever the Hex does to mess with their appearance, at least they’re each other’s best medicine to combat it.

“I don’t want to be insensitive,” Monica starts when they walk into the kitchen hand in hand, “but are you significantly more pregnant than you were yesterday?”

Jimmy watches Darcy nod and slips away from her to throw some more bread in the toaster from the bag Monica’s left out on the counter for them.

“You’d think it’s just this big, shapeless dress,” Darcy says, “but no.” She pulls the fabric taut over her stomach to show the size of her belly more accurately. “I don’t want to say it, but the size of this thing makes me think the Hex is leaving me room to grow.”

“And if that dress is only for today…” Monica says.

“Jeepers,” Jimmy concludes.

They eat together in their reconfigured living room. It’s not until Monica’s kicked back in one of their low chairs, ankle propped on her opposite knee, that Jimmy notices her patterned pants.

“Those aren’t from Darcy’s closet are they?”

“No. I’m assuming they’re my clothes from yesterday with the matter recycled for a new decade. Believe me, this outfit wouldn’t have been my choice if I had anything else to pick from.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure. I had a whole closet and still ended up with this,” Jimmy says, motioning to himself.

“My retro Secret Agent Man,” Darcy states admiringly, leaning her head over to bump against his shoulder. Ok, he thinks, smiling at her, I can be alright with this for her.

When Monica rises to turn on the television, Jimmy realizes this is the first time they’ve had one in the house. He remembers seeing a set in the Vision residence when he and Darcy were watching an episode on the S.W.O.R.D. base, but he didn’t notice the lack once they got here. Probably because that first night was taken up with flirting, and then yesterday was split between scouring the downtown for Monica and holing up in the bedroom with Darcy. Watching the screen buzz to life now is like witnessing something truly futuristic and spectacular.

“Well, whaddaya know,” he says as the opening sequence of WandaVision begins.

“You think the TVs in here play anything else?” Darcy wonders aloud.

“Maybe not,” Monica says distractedly as they all turn their attention to Wanda and Vision’s adorable antics—the ice cream, the tandem bicycle. “It’s a pretty big coincidence that this show started right when I turned it on.”

“I can see an even bigger coincidence.”

There’s no need to guess what Darcy means. Wanda’s baby bump is obvious in nearly every shot of the introduction, particularly emphasized when she and Vision dance together, his hand on her belly. It’s all maternity clothes and Vision reading pregnancy books and while it’s wholesome, it’s also chilling.

“We’re doing the same plot,” Jimmy says.

“It’s like we’re… their understudies,” Darcy agrees, shrinking back into the cushions.

“Maybe Wanda figured, if you two wanted to be in the show so bad, she’d put you in the show,” Monica theorizes. “Her show. Exactly the way she’s living it.”

“So she’s teaching us a lesson? On what? Abstinence?”

“Could be a misguided attempt to gain your sympathy.”

“Or it really is all about control,” Jimmy suggests, cynical after the reveal that the pregnancy that’s upended his entire life isn’t really theirs. It’s not original. They’re following a Newlywed Couple template.

“Hey,” Darcy says, grabbing his arm, “this wasn’t all Wanda. She might’ve set the scene and, yeah, maybe we were more the goatherd puppets than we were Fraulein Maria and Captain von Trapp, but we did this.” She pulls his hand to her belly. “Wanda doesn’t decide what we do next.”

“What I suggest you not do next is consult Dr. Misogyny over here,” Monica says, gesturing at the television.

The doctor is condescending to Wanda and Vision about the facts of life during a checkup (in their living room?). He lowers himself even further in Jimmy’s regard when he refers to expectant mothers as “little ladies” and implies that the changes in their own bodies are beyond their understanding.

“What a quack,” he decides. “We’re not going to see that guy.” He’s startled to recall his promise to Darcy the previous evening, about options, his intention not to make up her own mind for her. Lowering his voice, he tilts his head close to hers. “I mean, we’ll do whatever you want. Including…”

Jimmy trails off and casts his eyes down. He still means it, wants Darcy on board with this 100% or not at all, but the whole thing’s been a roller coaster and he’s not great at pretending not to feel anything. With his wife so much further into her pregnancy today, it’s obvious that this baby will be born and they’ll need to decide who’s raising it. He thinks the two of them together could rear a pretty incredible kid, but if she wants out, is he prepared to be a single parent? The other option besides her, him, or both of them raising the baby is adoption. They’d need to leave the Hex before taking those steps (it’s not like he’s going to encourage Darcy to hand the baby over to a mind-controlled Westviewer), and just thinking about it, with everything he already feels for the baby, makes him certain that he’d rather rearrange his entire life than pass on this chance at a family. However unorthodox their beginnings.

“Don’t worry,” Darcy says calmly, pulling him from his spiral. “That guy will never get the chance to compare my uterus to a vegetable garden.”

“Fruit,” Monica corrects without looking away from the television.

“Right. Fruit. He’ll have no say about any of it. And he definitely won’t get the opportunity to be patronizing as fuck while he tries to give us the sex talk.” She looks Jimmy right in the eye and says, “I won’t let the asshole doctor-man say a word about your banana.”

Chuckling, he looks back to the screen. The doctor has departed and Vision’s currently baffled over Wanda’s newly expanded stomach. Uh oh. He jerks his head around to check and, yep, Darcy’s baby bump appears to be keeping up with the sitcom star’s.

“You two stay here,” Monica instructs, on her feet when Jimmy glances over.

“Where are you going?” he asks.

“To Wanda’s. If things continue at this rate, she could give birth in this episode. That’s going to make her even more protective of her family and her space and I’ll have an even harder time getting near her.”

“Are you sure you want to interrupt?”

They both glance at the television for a moment to observe Wanda and Vision debating baby names in the nursery. There’s nothing distressing about the scene—in fact, the couple looks as much at ease as Jimmy’s seen them on the show—but that doesn’t mean it couldn’t change, and quickly, if Monica inserted herself. He just isn’t sure how that would go and he doesn’t like any plan where he can’t foresee all the possible outcomes.

“Guess I just have a feeling,” Monica says, looking unsettled.

“Well,” Darcy pipes up, “in the world of science, having a feeling is forming a theory, and in this place… I think having a feeling you should do something might be Wanda giving you your cue.”

“You’re not beyond her control,” Jimmy tells Monica, “just farther away from it. What if Darcy’s right?”

“If Wanda wants me there, I’m not going to resist,” she replies firmly. “She’s the key and we need her cooperation.”

“Good luck,” Darcy bids her.

With a nod to them both, Monica strides across the living room and opens the front door.

“Speaking of keys,” Jimmy recalls, but the door shuts before he can offer to let her borrow their car to get to Wanda’s.

Maybe the Captain has a different plan. Maybe she’s just bending to Wanda’s influence. Whichever it is, he can’t go after her. Monica was right—he has to stay here with Darcy today, especially because her belly seems larger when he looks again. He glances at her face with a question on his and she nods.

“And I felt a kick,” she says.

“Really? Could I…? Do you think I could…?”

Darcy rolls her eyes at his reticence and guides both his hands to the bump. When he feels something nudge his palm, Jimmy tears up.

“That’s our baby,” Darcy confirms.

“Feels like they have my softball windup,” he murmurs.

“Or my pre-coffee restlessness.”

“Our baby,” Jimmy repeats, staring into her eyes—finally blue for the first time in days, give or take a decade.

They’re having a marvelous family moment until the power goes out. Lights, TV, the hum of the fridge in the kitchen, everything. Seconds later, it all comes back.

“That was strange.”

“I wondered what Wanda’s magic was doing to the power grid,” Darcy says. “I’m still curious about the finer points of what happens when electricity meets power generated by an Infinity Stone. Really, I’d expect Wanda to have this kinda thing under control, but I guess if she’s— Ugh!”

Her pained noise has Jimmy cupping her face, pushing back her hair, trying to figure out what happened.

“She’s distracted,” she says.

“By what?”

“Labour.”

“What? No.”

Sure enough, when Darcy stands (with Jimmy leaping to his feet to support her) and stretches her back, her bump looks big enough to contain a baby that’s almost ready to be born. Ready to be born?! Jimmy thinks. In our house? With no doctor? Just because the one on TV rubbed him the wrong way doesn’t mean he’s prepared to write off every doctor, nurse, and midwife in Westview. He would very much like to place responsibility for this delivery in the hands of a medical professional, not his own!

Even as the TV’s flickering back to life, he helps Darcy away from it. That just shows how serious things are. He knows how quickly she became invested in the sitcom when they reviewed the ’50s episode at the base.

After some frantic thought, he’s thinking the bathtub is going to have to do. People do that right? With home births? Although he attempts to guide Darcy in that direction, she doesn’t even want to sit down on the edge, let alone climb in. No, she wants to pace, and as she paces, she rubs at her lower back, wincing.

“We could look at the nursery,” he proposes. “Might take your mind off it.”

Jimmy knows it could be a weak suggestion, an insult to imply that anything could take Darcy’s mind off whatever discomfort she’s currently feeling, but the Hex, with its radioactive walls, smiles down on them for once. With his arm around her to take some of her weight, they hobble into the baby’s room and it’s… perfect.

The walls are dark blue near the ceiling, almost black, fading to periwinkle halfway down the wall. The lower portion transitions from blue to pale yellow, then a blazing orange right before the baseboard.

“It’s a sunrise,” he comprehends.

“Yeah,” Darcy says softly.

Though he feels like he got slightly ripped off by not being allowed a chance to do any of the decorating, he does admire the Hex’s choices. At last, his wife’s been represented in this space, in this house, and it’s beautiful. There’s a shelf full of space-themed board books, a plastic jumble of play versions of scientific tools like telescopes. A dangling mobile of the planets. After easing his wife into the rocking chair, Jimmy holds up a pack of glow-in-the-dark stars.

“Should I put these up?”

She smiles.

“I would be all over that shit if I could, but I trust you to do a good job.”

“Oh no. Do you want me to do real constellations?”

“The baby’s not gonna know the difference. Make it look however you want.”

She rocks, assuring him something about the motion is helping her manage the intensifying pain of her contractions, and Jimmy finds a small stepping stool to help him reach the ceiling. The sway of the chair in the corner of his eye, the morning light through the curtains, and the sound of Darcy breathing are things he already knows he’ll never forget.

Before he’s stuck all the stars in the pack to the ceiling’s white paint, she calls him down from the stool.

“I need to walk again.”

Darcy says it with grit and Jimmy doesn’t argue, even when walking appears to put her in even more distress; she groans and pushes her free hand against the wall as they stroll out of the nursery and down the hallway.

“Let’s check in with Wanda,” Jimmy says helplessly.

This is who he is now: a husband in over his head, desperate to gain tips about delivering a baby from a TV sitcom. An overwhelmed real estate agent. A man with a mustache.

They return to the living room and the TV playing WandaVision in time for Monica’s entrance. Based on her free use of ’70s slang and the general discord between the Captain Rambeau Jimmy’s been getting to know and the woman on the screen, he knows they’re looking at Geraldine. Wanda’s back in control of her character alright, and Jimmy wants to know who it’s helping. The scene’s centered around some joke about Wanda attempting to hide her pregnancy, which is no good for him. He needs a step-by-step guide, not a magic-resistant stork!

“There better not be a fucking bird in here,” Darcy gripes, alternately crouching and standing as every position fails to make her comfortable. “If I see a fucking, goddamn, sonofabitch, motherfucking—”

“I know, sweetie, I know,” Jimmy assures her, rubbing circles between her shoulder blades with the flat of his hand.

“The betrayal,” she mutters when Wanda elects to lie down behind a couch.

It completely blocks their view. If this were a regular show, Jimmy would understand that. Sitcom viewers would definitely appreciate a little TV magic over graphic, up-close-and-personal birth footage, but here at the Woo residence, one FBI agent and his astrophysicist wife really just want the truth! If Monica had agency, he’s sure she’d shove the couch aside to help them out, but with Geraldine at the helm, he’s confronting the fact that he and Darcy are on their own.

“Let’s go, Darcy,” he says, steering her towards the bathroom. “We don’t need her.”

“Are you sure?”

He’s never heard Darcy sound so uncertain and knows he’ll have to bluff his way through this. When the Avengers aren’t around, the regular people must step up. Reminding himself of that has gotten Jimmy through more than one tough day on the job and he tells himself it’ll get them both through this.

“Of course.”

In the bathroom, Darcy kicks out of her underwear and uses Jimmy as a crutch to climb into the tub. Her face is scrunched up severely and her hands are braced against the walls of the bathtub, so he tries to watch and understand what she needs. When all the tension in her face and body burst out in a shout, he grabs her hand. Her fingers curl around his palm in a death grip.

“How about some nice warm water? Water, Darcy?”

She nods rapidly, eyes clenched shut, and he turns on the facet, then quickly reaches behind her to plug the drain. The stream wets his sleeve and, when he withdraws his arm, hits her hair around the level of her shoulders and begins to soak the back of her dress. Between contractions, Darcy sighs in what sounds like relief.

“That feels good,” she acknowledges.

“Good,” is all Jimmy can say back. He kisses her face and squeezes her hand in his. “Good.”

He’s back to scrambling for a solution soon enough when the warm flow of water down her back stops being enough to soothe her. He helps her out of her sodden dress, tossing it behind him to splat on the tile floor.

“What do you need?” he asks wildly, leaning over the tub.

“Earplugs,” Darcy tells him before emitting a scream shrill enough to probably be heard by their neighbour’s dog, Dipper, down the street.

Jimmy doesn’t think, he just does. Snatching a towel off the rail, bracing his wife’s foot against his shoulder as her leg spasms, reaching into the water to collect their baby when the Hex (he assumes) does them the favour of letting one long push be sufficient to expel him. Him. Jimmy and Darcy’s son.

He’s beaming through the happy tears, delicately wiping at the wailing baby with the towel and passing him into Darcy’s outstretched arms as she shakes with astonished laughter, hair wet, head resting back against the jut of the faucet.

“That wasn’t so hard,” he jokes.

Darcy sits up, sending a splash of water over the side of the bathtub to slap the floor, and he knows the Hex is interfering again to make her capable of anything besides exhaustion after what she just accomplished. She twists sideways in the tub until she’s closer to Jimmy. He wraps an arm around her wet shoulders and peers down at the face of their boy, already drowsy after exercising his tiny lungs. Jimmy can feel Darcy studying his face.

“Jimmy Woo Junior?” she asks.

And he knows the rest is going to be gravy.

—

Inside the Hex, the magic of television is real. They didn’t need to fake Darcy’s pregnancy with a cushion to make her belly, round and taut as a beach ball, disappear entirely only minutes after giving birth. They didn’t need a set of twins or triplets playing Jimmy Woo Jr. to swap in a quiet baby for one that starts to cry. There’s no trick lighting or fudged angles, just Darcy sitting on the couch (in dry, non-maternity clothes) catching their amazingly calm, less than an hour-old son up on the details of his origin story—Darcy’s wording.

It’s shaping up to be a nice, if highly unusual, family day in, until the tension starts to mount on-screen. Probably something Jimmy could’ve caught sooner if he weren’t spending 50 seconds out of every minute stroking the baby’s teeny-weeny hands while he hopes Jimmy Jr. retains zero memory of his dad’s mustache. When he hears Monica mention Wanda’s brother by name, he’s fully alert to the episode and knows he has to act. That close to Wanda, Monica’s control should be fully suppressed beneath the character of Geraldine. If she’s breaking through to ask Wanda person questions, questions that are almost definitely going to provoke an emotional response, Monica must be fighting like crazy to surface. Jimmy decides that’s his signal to get over there and help bring this thing to a satisfying conclusion so they can all leave the Hex.

“You’re not going to Wanda’s without me,” Darcy informs him, planted in front of the door when Jimmy returns from grabbing his keys.

“Darcy, you can’t. The baby. I’d stay with him and let you go, but I’ve never heard you mention particular skill in hand-to-hand combat and I can’t guarantee things won’t turn violent.”

She snorts.

“Liar. I could be the world’s biggest hand-to-hand badass and you’d still be trying to protect me right now.”

He stares at her and Darcy stubbornly lifts her chin as she holds his eyes.

“Ok,” Jimmy concedes, “yes, I would.”

“Please don’t leave us here,” she says, cheek pressed to the baby’s. No, no, no, he can already feel himself wanting to surrender, to have them with him. Darcy kisses their son’s face, then holds his hand to gesture while she pitches her voice higher, pretending to speak for Jimmy Jr. “I want to meet Auntie Monica.”

He gives her a look and reaches past her to open the door. Instead of trying to exit around his family, he waves Darcy through ahead of him. (She looks down at the baby in her arms and goes “Yaaaay! Isn’t Daddy a soft touch?”)

“You didn’t persuade me,” he says, leading them to the car and holding the door for Darcy while she climbs into the back seat with the baby. “This is strategic.”

“Is the strategy common sense? I feel like you should’ve gone with that from the beginning. Bringing a scientist to a magic fight is good thinking, for, like, balance and shit.”

Jimmy backs down the driveway as gently as he can. Their car’s been modernized (well, for the latest decade) and while it now has seatbelts, it wasn’t equipped with a car seat for their son. He’s going to have to drive with the utmost care.

“Hopefully, there won’t be a fight,” he reminds Darcy, “but if there is, you won’t be anywhere near it. You and Jimmy Junior are staying in the car. Alright?”

When he darts his gaze to the rear-view mirror, he sees his wife looking out her window, making a show of not listening to him. Jimmy sighs.

Without thinking, he navigates back to the street where they dropped Monica off yesterday. Wanda’s house is just down from Dottie’s; he remembers the number from watching WandaVision. Jimmy draws up to the curb and parks. He glances back at Darcy, but she’s still ignoring him.

“I’ll try to be right back,” he tells her anyway, eyes dropping longingly to the serene face of his sleeping son. He’s heard that about babies and car rides.

Jogging up the driveway, he does a doubletake of a ragged slash in the wall between Wanda’s property and her neighbour’s. There’s not exactly anything wrong with a damaged cinderblock or an amateur handyman job, but the crevice in the stone stands out in a world so aggressively styled and manicured.

Wishing for the reassurance of his gun at his hip in case things go south (it’s the first time he’s even thought about the gun since the night he and Darcy arrived), Jimmy enters the Vision residence without knocking.

Orienting himself to what he was just watching on TV in a house less than a mile from here, he walks across the entryway, attracting the attention of both Wanda and Monica. They’re standing across from each other in the living room. Raising his hands to show he intends no harm, Jimmy sweeps his eyes over the scene in assessment, like he has a hundred times before. Monica’s expression is alarmed under superficial friendliness—the look of someone trying to placate an attacker. With her aggressive, forward-leaning posture and the way she’s positioned herself between Monica and the cribs (he’s surprised to see more than one, but he did miss some of the episode while he was delivering his son in their bathtub), Wanda fits that role.

“Wanda,” he says, taking a step towards the seating area, “you don’t want to hurt her.”

“Are you working with her?” Wanda demands. “Who are you? I’ve never seen you before.”

“James Woo. I’m not here to hurt you. Neither is Geraldine.”

“You don’t want to hurt me? Then why do you come asking questions? Saying things—” He can see her chin wobble from here as she teeters on the edge of tears. “—about Pietro. You didn’t know my brother.”

Her statement is directed at Monica, but Jimmy tries to bring her focus back to him. Of himself and the Captain, he’s the one with an exit at his back, whereas Monica’s hemmed in by a large bookcase.

“I didn’t know your brother,” Jimmy agrees. “I do know about him, but we don’t need to talk about that. I don’t want to upset you, Wanda, I just want you to let me leave with Geraldine.”

“Oh, I’ll let you leave,” Wanda says, cocking her head as she raises her hands. This motion conveys the opposite meaning to Jimmy’s—she does intend them harm.

He’s contemplating what’ll happen if he tries to rush her when Darcy charges through the front door he left open.

“Don’t!” Jimmy gasps, making a grab for her, but his body is tense with caution and Darcy has the momentum to dodge him, stepping down the level into the living room.

“Look,” Darcy demands of Wanda, whose expression is torn as she chooses between facing Monica and this new intruder.

Jimmy’s mentally composing and rejecting ideas of how to proceed when their unwelcoming host lowers her hands. She’s looking where Darcy directed her to, at the baby in Darcy’s arms.

“He was born less than an hour ago, and I only found out I was pregnant yesterday, but that doesn’t matter. I know it’s the same for you, the circumstances and the… yeah, whatever. You know about the Big Bang, right?” she continues, jumping to the next thought.

“Yes,” Wanda says carefully.

Jimmy’s terrified to move closer and set Wanda on the offensive again. He glances at Monica, who seems to be thinking the same thing, frozen in place.

“From nothing to so much, in an instant,” Darcy’s saying in her condensed history of the universe. “Science is supposed to be full of all these rules. Like, every scientist dude important enough to remember had some law or formula or method that we map everything on top of when we’re pretending we understand all this. Being in science isn’t a goal I’ve had for a long time—I mean, I probably wouldn’t be in it now if the world hadn’t more or less ended—and if all I ever heard about the workings of the universe was rules, I would’ve stayed away. Who likes rules, right? Who wants to be told that things are the way they are because something outside of your control says so? My point is…”

She takes a deep breath, then another one, shifting until she’s blocking Wanda’s expression from Jimmy’s view.

“Sorry, I just gave birth, you know how it is,” Darcy says when she goes on. Jimmy’s stricken with exasperation, adoration, fear, and pride. “My point is that I love science because, while science is laws and rules and equations, science is also standing outside at night and staring up at the dark. There are explanations for every light that’s up there and why, even when you’re away from big cities and the sky seems so black and close, you don’t fall up into it, although it kinda feels like you could. Science can tell me why, and it still feels like magic when I look at the stars. And we’ve all been traveling out here in space together, getting made and unmade and made again because the right ingredients needed to create something as precious as a planet, or a baby, or the clay that’ll make the bricks that’ll make the house never disappear. Suns explode, asteroids collide and get chipped away… things can separate down to their smallest part, life can…”

“End?” Wanda asks.

Jimmy’s stunned to hear the word come out choked. Cautiously, he leans to get a glimpse of Wanda’s face. It’s covered in tears. Darcy’s nodding.

“But everything’s valuable. All matter gets reused.” Jimmy wants to grab her and pull her to safety when she takes a step closer to Wanda. “I get it if you’re sad and you’re not ready to talk about it. I’m not gonna say it’s ok, because I’ve heard Monica’s testimonial on exactly how much it sucks to have you in her head, but I do think you should let us leave now so you have a few friends out there when you inevitably need people on your side.”

“You can go,” Wanda agrees, swiping at her nose. “I won’t hurt your baby.”

“You’re not going to hurt my friend either,” Darcy says, beckoning for Monica to cross the room behind her. “Or my husband.”

“No,” Wanda says.

Monica reaches Jimmy and they wait for Darcy in the entryway.

“I bet all that control feel really good,” Darcy theorizes. “Taking it into your own hands. But I think you know that focusing on the beautiful, magical stuff doesn’t mean the rules no longer exist. Maybe you can find a way to accept them both.”

“It’s time for you to leave,” Wanda says, firmer now.

“Not looking for a life coach, got it.”

She joins Jimmy and Monica, bouncing the baby lightly in her arms. Wanda ushers them out of the house ahead of her. Jimmy glances back to see her close the door after herself with a twist and red glow of her hands.

“What about waiting in the car?” he mutters to Darcy as they stride down the lawn.

His self-proclaimed wife stares at him.

“I’m not the kind of person who waits in the car. Would the kind of person who waits in the car give a speech like that?”

Jimmy’s at an honest-to-goodness loss for words.

She gets into the car willingly enough now, Jimmy in the passenger’s seat while Monica slides behind the wheel.

“Wanda’s told me how to stand, how to move, how to walk since I got in here,” Monica says, turning the key in the ignition. “I’m driving myself out.”

“It’ll part for you when you get there,” Wanda calls to them from the lawn. “The barrier. I suggest you do not attempt to enter again.”

“I think we’ve all had our fill,” Jimmy informs her cheerfully through his rolled-down window.

She doesn’t respond to this, so Monica executes a three-point turn and takes them back up the street the way they came. From there, they turn out of the subdivision, but Jimmy snags a last look at Wanda through the back window. There’s a light breeze blowing her dress and hair and she looks like she could be anyone. A suburban mom of twins? Why not. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever see her again in person, but he has plans to catch her show.

“Wanda’s changed the roads,” Monica says as she drives. For his son’s sake, Jimmy’s grateful that she isn’t speeding, though he wouldn’t blame her for trying to get out of here as quickly as possible. “None of them lead out of town.”

“Literal tourist trap. Brilliant,” Darcy declares from the back seat. Jimmy reaches an arm back blindly and feels her close her hand around his.

“But,” Monica adds, “I remember Ellis Avenue being the closest cross street to the edge of town. We find that, then drive over the grass. Things may get a little bumpy.”

“We’ll survive.”

Jimmy twists around to look at Darcy. He nods. They will. They’ll survive.

They cross Ellis and take the car off-road. The barrier remains invisible, but…

“I can feel it,” Darcy says.

“Like we did the day we came in,” Jimmy recalls.

“It still wants us out,” Monica interprets. He sees her staring uneasily ahead. “Was I naïve to think I could change anything by coming in here?”

“No, Captain. It was brave.”

“Didn’t work though. We aren’t leaving with Wanda.”

“It could work,” Darcy says. “We left her with a few things to think about. We’ll watch WandaVision and see.”

“That’ll be strange after being a part of it.”

“You think so?” Jimmy wonders. He takes a deep breath, enjoying the fresh air and the sunshine, playing with Darcy’s fingers laced through his. “I think it’s returning to regular life that’s going to feel strange. Out there, it’s easy to see all this as a TV show, but everything in here is real.”

“We’ll make Hayward understand that.”

“I’m bringing back some compelling evidence,” Darcy says, followed by kissy sounds directed at Jimmy Jr.

The air just a couple of car lengths ahead of them abruptly glows red as Wanda reveals the wall of the Hex. Jimmy and Monica exchange a look, but she doesn’t slow down. They pass through without resistance. All of a sudden, it’s night. Monica lets out a relieved sigh.

The S.W.O.R.D. base is looming, exterior lights ablaze, but Jimmy looks backwards, checking that Darcy and the baby are alright.

“Same as you left us,” she says, pulling back the blanket to show him the face of his son.

He gives her a slightly melancholic smile.

“Not quite, Dr. Lewis.”

“I’ll have a lot of work to do,” Darcy notes thoughtfully, “but time for you and me to go on dates will be on my list of demands.”

“You have a list of demands?” Monica asks, laughter in her voice.

“After being forced into the Hex, where I could’ve lost my life? Fuck yes, I have a list.”

“What else are you asking for?”

“The coffee I requested on day one and a desk in a better spot so there’s room next to it for the crib that will also be on my list.”

Monica laughs aloud now.

“Is this a benefits negotiation or a baby shower registry?”

“Let’s get back to the part where we’re going on dates,” Jimmy says. “How’s that going to work?”

“Jimmy, darlin’,” Darcy begins, “will you go out with me?”

He leans to look around his seat at her.

“Darcy, we were married. We have a baby. Don’t you think we can—”

“Answer the question, Agent Woo.”

“Of course I’ll go out with you,” he says.

“And that’s how it works. Easy-peasy.”

She gives his hand a squeeze before releasing it to hold Jimmy Jr. more securely as Monica pulls up to a building and brakes. Already, S.W.O.R.D. agents are rushing out to meet them, but Jimmy drops back against his seat and smiles to himself.

“‘Easy-peasy.’”

[bokutosworld]

tender love | sugawara k.

pairing: sugawara koushi x gn!reader  word count, genre: 1463 words, fluff, domestic things with sugawara. i may or may have not fallen in love with him while writing this omg.  summary: ever since sugawara met you, he’d discovered a new meaning to home. it wasn’t a place anymore, but a person. home was you.  

“Don’t move for a bit.” Snuggling his face on the juncture between your neck and shoulders, you shuddered at the warm sensation. “I really missed you,” he mumbled. “Right after the conference, I went here as fast as I could just to see you.” 

“I’m home!” 

The smell of cooking instantly greets you the moment you step foot inside your house. You could hear some chatters coming all the way from the kitchen and you wonder who your mom was talking to. From what you remember, you weren’t expecting any visitors today but a glance at the shoe racks by the side of the door lets you in that someone else was here. 

You briefly go to the living room to drop off your bag and hang your coat on the rack. A pile of folders and a familiar beige coat catches your eye, but you don’t pay it that much attention, thinking that it’s your mind playing tricks on you. 

Besides, he couldn’t be here right now. Sugawara should be halfway across the country, attending some important conference on behalf of their school. 

Or at least that’s what you thought. 

“You’re back!” He beams at you, leaving his task of cutting onions to welcome you in his arms. He presses a chaste kiss on your lips, “Welcome home! Dinner will be ready in a few minutes. Your mom and I are making your favorite food.” He grins and ruffles your hair before quickly going back to your mom’s side, assisting her in preparing the dish. 

Dumbfounded you stood in the middle of the room. Perplexed you felt as you watched Sugawara deftly move around the place as if he’s memorized every nook and cranny of your family kitchen, a gentle smile on his face as he’s now placing the ingredients on the pot and stirring them carefully as they begin to boil. 

Your mom’s gleefully talking his ear off, making some remarks about how you’ve been busy the past few days. And your boyfriend nods, pouting when he glances at you and mentions how he’s also been worried about you, especially since he was away for the past week. So occupied in watching Sugawara and entertaining the questions that were running in your mind, you failed to hear what he had just said. 

“Sweetheart, did you hear me?” 

“I’m sorry.” You quickly moved to stand behind him, meekly wrapping your arms around him. A rare occurrence for you to be the first one to initiate some sort of intimacy, especially under your parents’ roof. But you missed him, so tonight, you didn’t really mind. “Did you need anything?” 

Sugawara caught on your actions, putting his hand atop yours. “I was just asking if you wanted some chili in this stew or not.” 

“Oh, I’d love some.” 

“I got you.” He turned back to adjusting the flavor of the dish, making sure it was to your liking. “Oh, can you also help set up the table?”  

Humming in response, you slowly detach yourself from him and join in dinner preparation, taking mental note to whisk him away for some privacy later.   

---

“Oh, Koushi! You are such a good cook!” Your mom praised as she took her first bites of your boyfriend’s cooking. “This is delicious. You’re like a natural.” 

Flustered at her comments, he waves a hand. “Please, I only did as you instructed. The directions were easy to follow and I’m glad it turned out great.” All the while, Sugawara has been scooping more soup and putting all your favorite toppings and vegetables on your bowl.  

Your mom smiled at the gesture, noting how he liked to dote on you. The conversation on the table then shifted to his conference, how his travel was, how the event went, and what was discussed. One of the many things that you liked about Sugawara was how passionate he was when approaching things. You remember how he was like back in high school. 

A vice-captain for the school volleyball team. His members often commented about how gentle, caring, and selfless he was. They saw him as the superglue that kept the whole team together, and his words never failed to inspire and uplift when spirits were down. Everyone looked up to him, including you.

And that same passion was still burning within him even today as he’s now teaching kids. You see it every time when he videocalls you after a long day’s work, you hear his excitement and his fondness for the young ones through stories that he shares. 

“Long story short, this school year is going to be filled with lots of activities for the kids. It was a consensus from the faculty staff that we should let them try new things so they can find their passion as young as they are now,” he excitedly shares.  

“Well, that sounds great. I just hope you won’t overwork yourself,” your mother turns to glare at you. “And I sure hope they’re taking good care of you.” 

“Mom!” You protest, ready to defend yourself but Sugawara takes hold of your hand and speaks up. 

“Don’t worry, they’re the best partner I could ever ask for,” he says as he turns to look straight in your eyes. His gaze full of love and affection and you feel your breath being knocked out of your lungs. “They make me the happiest that I’ve ever been, and I feel like I could anything with their support.” His declaration of love only intensifies the beating of your heart and you could feel the blood rushing to your face. 

As he coos over you and teasing you for being shy, your mom only chuckles, her own heart warming at the sight of true, pure love blossoming in front of her. 

---

Right after dinner, you pushed your mom to retire to the living room and watch her shows, leaving you and Sugawara to take care of the dishes. The two of you worked in perfect sync as you washed the dirty plates and utensils. Nothing but silence and his occasional humming filled the room as you busied yourself with the task at hand. 

When the last plate has been washed and Sugawara has dried and put it in the cupboards, you went ahead to wipe the counters and clean it of any residue. You jumped when a pair of arms sneakily snaked around your waist and felt something heavy rested on your shoulders.  

“Don’t move for a bit.” Snuggling his face on the juncture between your neck and shoulders, you shuddered at the warm sensation. “I really missed you,” he mumbled. “Right after the conference, I went here as fast as I could just to see you.” 

A light smile donned your face, though he couldn’t see it. You put down the towel and dried your hands, tangling your fingers on his soft hair. “I missed you too.” 

The two of stayed like that for a while, enjoying solitude in the middle of the empty kitchen with only the sounds of the television coming from the living room. 

“Do you want to stay the night?” Granted, it wasn’t that late in the evening yet. A glance on the digital clock states that it was only 8:43 PM, but he was gone for two weeks and right now, you wanted nothing more than to be in the presence of your lover. 

“Your mom might get mad at me.” You can hear amusement in his voice, and the telltale signs of teasing as soon as he replied. He pulled away from you and turning you around so you can see the smirk on his face. “I can’t believe you would suggest something like that. Sleeping in together when we’re not even married yet.” 

Scoffing, you hit his chest rather strongly and glared at him. “Stop, that’s not what I mean.” The two of you exchanged knowing looks before bursting out in loud laughter. Because surely, you’re past that stage in your relationship, already knowing each other personally and intimately. 

Sugawara tugs you close to him, once again embracing you and relishing in your warmth. His chin on the top of your head, he sighs contentedly, “This is nice.” Then after a minute, “Have I told you I love you lately?” 

You tighten your hold on him, “You could always tell me again.”  

In this moment, Sugawara thinks that this is something that he could get used to – working in the morning and coming home to a house with you in it. It is a future that he has been hoping for and he wishes that you yearn for the same thing because he honestly couldn’t wait for the right time when he would get down on one knee and pop that question.

And as you’re both lost in your own world, tucked in each other’s arms, you miss the way the television turns off. You miss the presence of your mom lingering by the door, smiling as she deduces just how perfect you were for each other. 

[cafekestis]

Writing prompt: 22 with Dinluke!

22: A kiss that is leading to more, but is interrupted by a third party.

i think we all know who the third party is haha.

“Mm, smells good in here.”

Din smiles to himself at the sound of Luke’s voice coming into the house, following the sound of the door shutting and his keys dropping in the bowl. He continues chopping the tomatoes and adding them to the pot.

“Figured it’s finally cold enough for chili.” Din says, picking up his spatula and stirring the vegetables.

Luke groans appreciatively. “I love chili.”

Din listens to the sounds of Luke shedding his coat and shoes and can picture it, can see Luke shaking out his unnaturally fluffy hair and from the sound of it, just chucking his coat onto a random chair or couch.

“I know you do.”

Din’s smile grows as he feels two arms wrap around his middle, Luke’s chest flush against his back and his chin notching over his shoulder.

“This is a nice surprise...”

Din hums in agreement. The restaurant usually keeps him until well past closing time, leaving Din to arrive home anywhere between 11pm and 1am. By the time Din got home all he wanted to do was sleep, letting Luke wrap him in a loose embrace and sharing a soft kiss. Then Luke would wake up at the crack of dawn and take Grogu and himself to school.

“The new manager is working out really well, I felt confident enough to leave her alone tonight.”

“Sure the place isn’t going to burn down?” 

Din chuckles. “She does have my number in case I need to run back.” He turns then, catching Luke’s impossibly blue eyes trained on him, soft and honest, as always.

“Welcome home…” His gaze flicked down to Luke’s lips and they leaned in together for a light kiss.

“Where’s Grogu?” Din was surprised at the quiet around them, usually Luke brought Grogu home as well, since he taught at the same school their son attended.

Luke’s arms around Din tightened, his smile turning mischievous. “He went home with Ben, Leia said he could stay for dinner if he wanted.”

Din felt his heart skip in anticipation. “Oh? So we’d have the afternoon to ourselves?”

Luke hummed an affirmative, his eyes already slipping shut as Din reached a hand up, cupping his husband’s jaw and resuming their kiss.

With a synchronicity of being together for nearly a decade, the pair maneuvered themselves without missing a beat, Luke suddenly being pushed against the kitchen counter and Din advancing on him, pressing their bodies together and getting a knee in between Luke’s legs.

Luke’s arms went around Din’s shoulders and moaned loudly, pulling his husband closer and parting his lips to suck Din’s tongue in, who responded by gripping those dirty blond locks, fingers tangled while the other went around his waist to keep him close.

As Grogu grew up, and their jobs becoming increasingly more demanding, Din and Luke hardly found time to be intimate anymore. It wasn’t the flame dying out, as many married couples liked to relate their struggles to when either of them complained to their friends, it was just impossible to be together.

Pawning off Grogu to a sitter on the weekends was getting stressful, and Din’s work schedule had him taking shifts and picking up calls so often that Luke just got used to their sex life diminishing (even though he was obviously very upset over it, he never got himself worked up over it). Sometimes though, a pocket of availability would open up, and Luke would always pounce at the offering, convincing Din usually took a bit of effort. But this time their desires were in sync, and Din had a few ideas of how to make his husband scream like he used to.

Din rolled his hips and the muffled whine Luke made encouraged Din to do it again, ravishing Luke’s mouth, heat coursing through his veins as an old, but not diminished, flame for his husband licked it’s way up his spine.

“Din, ah--” Luke keened as Din moved his lips to Luke’s ear, giving it a nip. He groaned lowly as Luke lifted a knee, getting a leg around Din’s waist.

Din’s hand traveled down, squeezing Luke’s thigh, ready to get the other leg up and hoist him on the counter, against a wall, take him to their bedroom-- anywhere, when the sound of the front door opening and shutting broke the spell.

Luke pushed Din off of him just as Grogu rounded the corner.

“Hey, I’m just grabbing my Switch…” Grogu announced, not even looking into the kitchen as he ran past them into the living room.

Din’s heart was in his throat, he looked down and adjusted himself quickly, just as Grogu peeked into the kitchen. 

“... You’re making chili.”

“Yes,” Din hoped he didn’t sound too out of breath. He felt Luke turn behind him to face the stove.

Grogu stared at his fathers silently and Din, as always, wished he could read his son’s mind. These silent stares were happening more and more frequently, but especially since his 9th birthday last year. He knew he got it from Luke, no matter how much he denied it.

“Is it done?”

“Not-- not for a couple hours.” Din lied.

Grogu frowned. “Fine.” He left, continuing his mission to collect his Nintendo Switch. 

Din felt Luke’s forehead touch his shoulder and relaxed, knocking his head back and taking a steady breath.

“Don’t keep Leia waiting,” Din said, assuming she was outside in the car. The last thing he wanted was for her to come in and start up a chat with Luke that would never end and Grogu changed his mind and decided to stay. It had happened before.

“I’m not!” Grogu announced from the living room. He sped down the hall again to the door. Din only now noticing that he hadn’t taken off his shoes and was for sure leaving a trail on the carpet.

“Bye!”

“Call us when you’re coming home!” Luke shouted from behind Din.

“I will!”

The door slammed shut.

Din could hear Luke breathing in the alarming silence.

“That was close,” Din said, an edge of humor in his voice. He turned, catching Luke’s tired expression.

He reached around his husband to turn off the stove before taking his hand, bringing it up to his lips and kissing the top of it, then turning it to kiss his palm.

Luke sighed, finally relaxing. “I can’t ever get a moment with you.”

“I’m here now. Come on…”

Din pulled Luke close, arms wrapping around each other in a hug that lingered.

“Okay, I’m good.” Luke said with a chuckle, pulling his head up and pecking Din’s lips. He took Din’s hand again and led them to their bedroom.

[stiltonbasket]

How does Lan Wangji feel about Wei Wuxian's new title, Xinhua-jun?

The first time someone addresses him as something other than Honored Master Wei during an assembly, Wei Wuxian barely registers it.

But in his defense, he’s been up all night for a week straight, hurrying to get his irrigation talismans finished in time for the planting season, and the first batches have just been shipped off with a handful of Lan-trained shidao cultivators accompanying them to supervise.

All Wei Wuxian wanted to do was sleep, after that. It’s a wonder that he stayed awake long enough to  attend the conference at all, which is why he doesn’t realize what the petitioners from Moling called him until he takes a soak in his bathtub that night and asks Lan Zhan to rub his shoulders for a while.

“How was the assembly?” Lan Zhan asks, while Wei Wuxian raises the temperature of the bathwater until the washroom fills up with steam. The ability to take long, hot baths without harming his cultivation is the only good thing that came from losing his golden core, and Wei Wuxian made sure to bathe in heated tubs as often as he could after his resurrection; he used to envy the Jiang shimeis in his childhood, since heat only benefits cultivators with excess  yin energy, but now...

“Wei Ying?”

“Oh!” Wei Wuxian sighs and straightens his back before reaching up to pat his husband’s arm. “It was fine, I suppose. The Su cultivators presented their case, Uncle and I went through it, and then we agreed to all their demands except the one about Moling receiving a sixth of Gusu’s tax revenue.”

“A sixth?”

“They don’t have enough noble families living within their borders,” he says absently, making a small sleepy sound of approval as Lan Zhan pats the tension out of his neck. “The Lai and Xu clans relocated to Qinghe last year, and the Liao family—you remember that clan whose little mistress proposed marriage to Jingyi this spring?— they moved to Laoling the year before that, and they all paid enough taxes to keep the Su clan comfortable.”

Lan Zhan’s hands withdraw from his neck and reappear in his hair a moment later, covered in the sweet-smelling hair soap Wei Wuxian makes from the lotus pond in the back hills. “Did they—treat you well?”

It’s a sensible question, Wei Wuxian supposes, even if the worry in his husband’s voice makes his heart ache with love for him. “Better than most Moling cultivators usually do, Lan Zhan. It was all Xiandu this and Xinhua-jun that, until—”

“They called you Excellency?”

The conversation comes to a swift end at the realization, because Wei Wuxian accidentally swallows a mouthful of foamy water and chokes on it until Lan Zhan helps him cough it up. And then they have to get ready for dinner, and coax the children into finishing it before they fall asleep in their bowls, which is why Wei Wuxian doesn’t think about the conference again until after hai shi. 

When the truth of Su She’s association with Jin Guangyao came to light—as Wei Wuxian recalls when Lan Zhan and the little ones are safely asleep—most cultivators from Moling Su seemed to detest Wei Wuxian more than they did while he was dead, if Jiang Cheng’s spies were to be believed. As a matter of principle, none of them even attended Wei Wuxian’s wedding, and offered nothing but flimsy excuses when Lan Xichen traveled to Moling to deliver the invitations in person; and since then, they preferred to keep their distance from him, and would likely have continued to do so if Xichen hadn’t been in Baling for the month to see his new baby grandson.

But today’s petition had been urgent, so Wei Wuxian had to stand in as Lan-zongzhu by proxy while his husband and brother-in-law (not to mention A-Yuan and Jingyi, who accompanied Lan Xichen to Baling) were occupied elsewhere, and none of the Su cultivators were discourteous to him in the slightest.

Oh, no,” he groans, as Lan Zhan tries to hush him with a kiss. “This can’t be good, Lan Zhan. They ordered their city magistrates to send word if I crossed the Moling border, and they turned Xichen-ge down  again  when he invited them to Chun-bao’s hundred-day feast—you don’t think they’re planning something, do you?”

Lan Zhan only gives him a fond look and kisses him again. “Go to sleep, A-Ying,” he says gently. “We’ll talk about it in the morning.”

*    *    *

When Wei Wuxian married into the Cloud Recesses nine years ago, the question of his formal title remained unsettled until after the month before his and Lan Zhan’s first wedding anniversary. If he were a woman, the cultivation world would have known him as Lan-furen, and that would have been the end of it: but Wei Wuxian was a man with no title save that of the Yiling Patriarch, and even Lan Zhan was at a loss when his uncle asked what he should be called following the wedding.

“Third young master Lan?” Wei Wuxian suggested, absently petting Xiao-Yu’s fluffy hair. “Or Wei-gongzi? It doesn’t really matter, Shufu.”

“Third young master Lan is unsuitable,” Lan Qiren pointed out, plopping another baby rabbit into Xiao-Yu’s lap. “Xichen is the sect leader, and Wangji is the Chief Cultivator. Neither of them can rightly be called gongzi any longer, so the titles of first and second young master must pass to Sizhui and Jingyi.”

They settled on Lan-san-gongzi in the end, mostly because everyone already knew that Sizhui and Jingyi were the first and second heirs to the Lan sect, but then Lan Xichen (who remains the best brother-in-law Wei Wuxian could ever have hoped for) came to bring Wei Wuxian his lunch one afternoon while he was working in the produce field, and laughed himself silly at the sight of his difu  talking to a particularly stubborn lotus bloom in an effort to get it to grow.

“What a happy flower, to be so doted upon!” he chuckled, passing Wei Wuxian a wet cloth so he could clean his hands and sit down to eat. “Xinhua-jun, xiao-hua, be good for A-Xian and grow, won’t you?”

And then a strange excited grin spread across his face, right before he dropped the lunch boxes into Wei Wuxian’s arms and ran back towards the main compound as fast as his legs could carry him.

Wei Wuxian’s students have called him nothing but  Xinhua-jun  ever since, even though it was more of a pet name than a  title. But it never caught on outside the Cloud Recesses, since most of Nie Huaisang’s court is much older than he is, and Yunmeng still knows him as Wei-zongzhu from the year he spent leading Yunmeng Jiang before he and Lan Zhan were married; and the less said about Lanling Jin the better, even if Jin Ling and Mianmian have been ferreting out the last two sect leaders’ supporters ever since A-Ling succeeded Jin Guangyao.

The thought of his title becoming common knowledge in  Moling of all places gives Wei Wuxian a chill down the spine, and he says as much the next evening while going over the reports of young women’s education rates from Gusu’s subsidiary sects.

“Who could possibly have told them? It’s very suspicious,” he grumbles, answering a plaintive letter from a particularly pompous scholar who insisted it was far too much work for his colleagues to teach the boys in the morning and stay three hours longer to teach the girls in the afternoon. Teach them both in the same class, Wei Wuxian writes back, snorting at the man’s foolishness as his daughters climb into his lap to peer curiously at the scroll. If any of the young ladies’ parents prefer their daughters be taught separately from the boys, the Cloud Recesses will send a delegation of lady tutors to Xibei and have a second school built.  

“Suspicious?” Shuilan pipes up, before pointing to one of the characters on the scroll. “That’s part of my name! It says shui!”

“Very good!” Wei Wuxian smiles, kissing the top of A-Lan’s head. “Chun-bao, can you find any?”

Chunyang nods shyly against his neck. “A-Chun see cloud,” the baby says, happily smudging the  yun  in  yunshen buzhichu with her little hands before snuggling down into Wei Wuxian’s silky robes. “A-Die, eat? A-Chun is hungry.”

Wei Wuxian glances up at the sky and cries out in dismay as he notices that night has nearly fallen. “Come, come—but A-Lan, sweetheart, put your socks on first! It’s cold in the kitchen, and I don’t want to leave you here all alone.”

“I’m a big girl,” A-Lan complains, as Wei Wuxian laughs again and slides a pair of soft slippers onto her dimpled feet instead. “Can’t I stay with gege?”

“Gege’s taking a bath,” Xiao-Yu shouts—from the bathroom, naturally, since he spends his afternoons getting delightfully muddy in the produce field and moseys back home by sunset with grubs and leaves and rich black earth clinging to his clothes. “Be a good Lan-bao and go with A-Niang.”

At twelve years old, Xiaohui has finally settled on a course of cultivation study, surprising everyone but his parents by deciding he wanted to learn natural cultivation instead of following the martial dao, and he and Wei Wuxian have been working on agricultural talismans together for the past two years; Xiao-Yu even had a hand in the talismans Wei Wuxian just sent out for the border territories, since Wei Wuxian relies on his son’s spiritual energy to activate them. He is so very proud of Xiao-Yu, grubs and mud and all, and Wei Wuxian throws back his head and laughs when his tall son rolls into the kitchen half an hour later with his hair pinned up in a damp knot at the back of his neck.

“Is supper ready, A-Niang?” Xiao-Yu asks, while A-Lan sits at the table with one of her brother’s many, many cats purring in her lap. “Should I lay out the bowls?”

“Yes, please, A-Yu,” Wei Wuxian yawns, swaying back and forth with Chunyang on his hip as he stirs chili paste into his pot of soup. “And fetch a shawl for A-Lan, her clothes aren’t warm enough.”

“A-Niang stir more,” Chunyang tells him, pointing down at the pot. “Not done.”

Wei Wuxian does as she says, breaking up the last chunks of paste just as A-Yu comes rushing back in with a warm shawl to drape around A-Lan’s shoulders. After that, he puts a broad wooden lid over the pot and leaves it to boil, moving from cauldron to cauldron with one hand keeping Chun-bao in place and the other wielding his ladle: a weapon almost as effective as his sword, if A-Yuan’s condemnation of his cooking at the Burial Mounds is to be believed, though Wei Wuxian learned how to cook without covering everything with chili oil during his brief stint as Sect Leader Jiang ten years ago.

“I love A-Die’s food,” Shuilan declares, squeezing Heimao (named, quite literally, for his smooth black fur) in sheer delight when Wei Wuxian plops a bit of hot tofu into her mouth. “If Papa doesn’t come home in five minutes, can I eat everything?”

“A-Lan can eat as much as she wants,” Wei Wuxian promises, because A-Lan is only five years old and eats less than half of what Lan Zhan does. “Come help Yu-gege serve the rice, and then we can eat.”

Lan Zhan comes home late that night, after Lan Yu and Wei Shuilan have finished their dinners and gone to bed. He went to Lanling to help Jin Ling oversee a trial just after mao hour, and his early return is a pleasant surprise; Wei Wuxian nearly weeps with joy when his husband opens the door to the  jingshi and sweeps him and A-Chun up into his arms, carrying them to the long divan in the receiving room to kiss them to his heart’s content, and fussing over A-Chun until she toddles away and comes back again with the little bowl of hot soup that Wei Wuxian left on the table with a warming talisman.

“Papa eat,” she says adoringly, curling into a chubby pink ball against Wei Wuxian’s stomach and watching with big eyes as Lan Zhan raises the bowl to his lips. “A-Niang cooked!”

“Your A-Die always cooks dinner,” Wei Wuxian says, kissing the tip of her sweet pink nose. “Remember, Chun-bao?”

“Papa breakfast, and A-Niang dinner,” the little girl agrees, before drifting right off to sleep between her parents with one tiny fist curled around the end of Lan Zhan’s forehead ribbon.

Jiang Yanli used to fall asleep like that, Wei Wuxian remembers, safe in Jiang-shushu’s purple-draped bed with him and a toddling Jiang Cheng curled up next to her on either side, and she always stayed asleep no matter how often they squirmed and kicked and whispered over her head.

“Sweetheart?”

“I missed you,” Wei Wuxian sighs, without mentioning where his thoughts had gone—the pain of his shijie’s passing will never heal as long as he lives, but it has been easier to bear with Lan Zhan beside him, if only a little. “Will you have to go again next week, Lan Zhan?”

His husband shakes his head and gives him a lingering soup-tasting kiss on the soft dent over his mouth. “It is finished, my heart. Forgive me for coming home so late?”

Their faces draw together again, yearning towards one another like two mated butterflies forcefully parted as Lan Zhan shifts A-Chun to the crook of his arm and lays Wei Wuxian down on the divan to kiss his cheeks, and his forehead, and then caresses his hands with heart-breaking tenderness, as if he were holding a treasure beyond price. In turn, Wei Wuxian reaches up to touch his husband’s face, tracing the smooth lines of his brow and chin until Lan Zhan catches his fingertips with his lips and pulls him upright to keep Chunyang from getting squashed.

“Let’s put this little lotus to bed,” Wei Wuxian whispers, though it turns into another yawn before he gets to the end of the sentence. “Come with me, xingan?”

His husband—his beloved, precious, perfect husband—goes with him without a word, coaxing their daughter into her sleeping gown and laying her in the middle of the bed without waking her. “I heard some news in Lanling before I left,” he says, while Wei Wuxian helps him take off his Chief Cultivator’s headpiece and put away his waist-pendants. “I investigated the issue with Moling Su, since I feared that they might have a greater grudge against you than we thought, and Jin Ling informed me that the minor sects have begun to address you as xiandu of their own accord.”

Wei Wuxian feels his jaw drop. “What?”

“You have been taking over the portion of my work that cannot be solved by night-hunting,” Lan Zhan points out, as they slip under the covers and tuck A-Chun in between them to keep her warm. “The schools, the trade conferences, the farming failures in the south and the northwest. These matters are resolved by letters written in your hand, not mine, and petitions written to the Chief Cultivator are taken to court by the Chief Cultivator’s husband.”

He pauses to brush their noses together, and then:

“It has been so since you married me,” he says, with a smile that melts Wei Wuxian’s limbs into jelly. “Did you never notice, Wei Ying? It is well known that Hanguang-jun follows the jiandao, and goes wherever the chaos is, and that Xinhua-jun sees to the everyday matters that must be put right for a sect to thrive. Even the clans who would have dared speak against you know it now, and give credit and praises where they are due.”

“I can’t just  become the Chief Cultivator by sharing your work,” Wei Wuxian snorts, rolling his eyes fondly as Lan Zhan leans over to blow out the candle on the nightstand. “I’m your husband. What else would I do?”

“I have not yet heard your sister-in-law being called Jiang-zongzhu,” Lan Zhan returns, with a bright spark of mirth in his sweet voice. “Though I suspect your brother would not mind, if she was.”

“Yes, I suppose—but Lan Zhan, surely the minor sects can’t just  decide to call me Chief Cultivator? You were chosen for the position by vote.”

“They chose me for Chief Cultivator ten years ago, did they not? And now, since there is no law that two people cannot share the title, they have chosen you. Nie Huaisang will support it, since he lives in fear of me stepping down and making  him succeed me as Excellency, and so will Jin Ling. And Jiang Cheng.”

“...I’m never getting out of this, am I?”

“Do you wish to stop?” Lan Zhan inquires, with some concern. “You have done more good than I could ever have dreamed of, but if you do not want—”

“Let’s talk about it in the morning,” Wei Wuxian begs, thoroughly overwhelmed at the thought of it. “Come hold me, er-gege.”

And Lan Zhan does, hugging him so tightly that all he knows is the sharp scent of sandalwood on his husband’s clothes and the soft-smelling lotus of Chun-bao’s hair until he falls asleep.

*    *    *

  Nanhai Cheng, Baling Ouyang to the Cloud Recesses, Gusu Lan

  Senior Wei,

      When did you become the Chief Cultivator? Jingyi and A-Yuan want to know, but they can’t write at the moment because A-Qing put them on diaper duty. Is it true? Or was A-Ling just making fun of us?

      Best wishes,  

            Ouyang Zizhen.  

    P.S.—make sure to bring Lan-xiansheng for A-Chen’s full month party! You haven’t forgotten about it, have you?

*    *    *

  The Cloud Recesses, Gusu Lan to the Unclean Realm, Qinghe Nie

  Nie-xiong,  

      If I ever find out that this Excellency business was your fault, I’ll steal all your grandchildren and hide them in the jingshi. What in Heaven’s name were you thinking?

    Suspiciously yours,  

            Wei Wuxian.  

*    *    *

  The Unclean Realm, Qinghe Nie to the Cloud Recesses, Gusu Lan

  Brother Wei,  

      My, such accusations! I really can’t say. But have fun with all the paperwork, Wei-xiong—it’s the best part of the job!

      Your (best) friend,  

            Nie Huaisang.  

[dcbbw]

WIP Wednesday 7-1-2020

Thanks for the tags, @ao719​ and @bobasheebaby​!

I’m working on drama and angst … making the most progress with these three fics this week.

Warning: curse words

DC AU, Chapter 5—So Close to Heaven

“COCKBLOCKING? I told you I was coming over; if the dick meant that much to you, you know how to stop me! You chose not to! And your boss … again, I DIDN’T KNOW JUST JILL WAS YOUR BOSS! And I didn’t sleep with her because you needed me!”

“I DID NOT! You changed your mind and used my vent text as an excuse! To do stupid man shit!”

“VENT? You were LOSING YOUR GODDAMN MIND over a pot of CHILI!”

Riley turned away from Liam, going into the living room. Liam followed.

“I was having a bad day. You used that to your advantage the ENTIRE NIGHT!”

With a huge huff, Liam circled Riley until they were face to face, nose to nose. “Use it to my advantage HOW? The way I see it, I’m the one who sacrificed! Just Jill was ready to jump up on the counter and give me ALL HER HOLES! AND COOK BREAKFAST! I turned HER DOWN to come comfort you!”

“YOU GHOSTED HER! YOU ARE NO BETTER THAN DRAKE! You are nothing more than a coward in a fucking suit!”

“WHY DO YOU GIVE TWO FUCKS ABOUT ME LEAVING A CHICK AT A BAR?”

Discontent, Chapter 4—Twelve Steps

Her fingertips caressed the stubble along his jawline and chin. She inhaled a deep breath and her nose wrinkled. Despite her shower the day before, Riley smelled … sour, and the sweat was making her skin feel both sticky and slick. She rose from the bed and padded quietly into the bathroom. The harsh lighting hurt her eyes, and she squinted as she took in her reflection.

Her eyes were puffy, but less bloodshot than they had been. The dark circles were more pronounced. Her cheeks were blotchy. Her lips were noticeably dry. She felt like day old crap.

She recalled Liam’s earlier affirmations and words of love, and how she tried to pluck them from the air to hold in her hands. He had told Riley she completed him.

How could he love me? Why does he love me?

Riley supposed it didn’t matter as she swished mouthwash between the insides of her cheeks. But it did. Somewhere in this city, in this very hotel was the woman Riley was in competition with for her husband’s affections.

The Queen had simply won this round. Not the battle. Not the war.

Object of Affection, Chapter 8—Messy

The redhead’s eyes were wide and innocent, her tone laced with regret. “By pushing you away.” She paused for a beat. “I’m in love with you, Liam. I may not want to be Queen, but I want to be your wife.”

She waved her left hand in front of the King’s face. “I still wear your ring. I still think about us.”

“A little too late for that, Duchess.”

“Why? Because you finally bedded the American?” Olivia moved closer to the desk, placing her palms atop Liam’s hands to lean across it.

“She colluded with your father to win your hand, Liam. The same man who has always held strong dislike for me. The same man who has always tried to keep me from Court. From you.”

Liam looked into Olivia’s green eyes but saw no deception. However, the steady tap of her shoe was telling. He remembered his father saying he had unpleasant information about the Duchess that he would keep to himself as long as Liam didn’t marry her.

He leaned back in his chair after removing her hands from his. “What do you want, Olivia?”

“Another chance with you. You’re merely engaged, not married. People change their minds all the time.”

“An ironic statement coming from you.”

“Please, Liam,” she implored.

Liam stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Why now, Olivia? When I am finally walking away from you? Isn’t that what you wanted? For me to set you free?”

“I admit, I went about everything the wrong way. But I came here today to talk to you, to tell you my feelings. But you wouldn’t meet with me.” The Duchess lowered sad eyes to the carpet.

Liam looked at his former lover through narrowed eyes. “Last we spoke, you were in love with Drake.”

Olivia looked up, a slightly startled look on her face. “He was merely a tryst.” She arched her brow, her slender fingers stroking the back of Liam’s hand. “Now that we both know how the other half fucks, let’s concentrate on us again.”

Liam stared into green eyes; eyes that had drawn him in time after time. His eyes fell to her fingers, still lightly scraping against his skin.

He didn’t pull his hand away.

NO idea who to tag (I think all of mutuals have been tagged and/or shared, so if anyone stumbles across this and wants to bless the fandom with some sneak peeks, please do!

[ladywinchester1967]

Baby

Links: AO3 & WattPad

Square Filled: Polyamory

Ship: Jensen Ackles x Reader (female) x Jared Padalecki

Rating: M for Mature

Tags: poly-relationship, oral (male and female receiving), threesome (no J2 action), dirty talk, fluff, smut, sweet surprise at the end, porn, almost no plot.

Being in the spotlight was a double edged sword. On one side, there was money to be made, free stuff to be had and vacations one could only imagine. On the other was a complete lack of privacy, unless one was clever.

As it so happened, I was.

First to arrive home after a long day's work was usually Jensen Ackles, my husband of more than five years.

“Hey baby.” he greeted me with a hug and a sweet kiss as I stirred the pot of chili I’d made to keep us warm on this cold winter’s night.

“Hello yourself handsome,” I said as I kissed him back “go get comfortable, dinner is almost ready.”

“Smells like it’s ready now.” He said as he practically drooled over the pot.

“GO!” I commanded; at twice my size he could easily get what he wanted, but he backed down, choosing to go change into his pajamas so he would be comfortable while we ate.

Second to arrive was my boyfriend of three years, Jared Padalecki.

“Hey gorgeous.” He greeted me with a smile and a kiss “it smells amazing in here.”

“Jensen beat you home,” I told him “he’s upstairs getting changed so I suggest you do the same so we can eat.”

“Yes ma’am.” he said with an exaggerated Texas drawl that always made me laugh.

Our relationship wasn’t conventional; that much anyone could say. Yes, I was married and yes, I had a boyfriend and both knew about it and were fine with it. Being a singer and model wasn’t easy, adding the fact that I was polyamorous too was a whole other can of worms I didn’t want to open. As far as anyone outside our immediate families knew, Jensen and I were happily married while Jared was our best friend and the eternal bachelor.

That night, the three of us sat on the couch, eating chili and cornbread while the boys watched TV. I sat in the middle as usual, Jensen on my left and Jared on my right. When we’d finished eating, Jared did the dishes while Jensen laid his head in my lap. I stroked his hair and rubbed on his temples, trying to get him to relax.

“You’re too tense.” I told him.

“If I get any more relaxed, I’ll go to sleep.” He said, he had his arms around my waist, holding me close.

“That’s the idea.” I said as Jared came back to the couch. Once he was settled, he opened his arms to me. I laid with my back against his chest, still scratching Jensen’s head.

“How are you even awake?” Jared asked Jensen “She does that to me and I’m dead as a door nail.”

“Just not tired I guess.” Jensen said and rolled so that he was on his back, looking up at me. “I could go for a snack.”

I laughed and said

“You just are two and half bowls of chili, there’s no WAY you’re still hungry.”

He fiddled with the strings on my pajama pants and said

“I’m hungry for something else.”

A blush crept up my cheeks as Jared held me closer.

“Perfect after dinner snack,” he cooed in my ear “nice and sweet.”

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding as Jensen sat up.

“Lay your head in Jared’s lap.” he told me.

I did as I was told, my brown eyes meeting Jared’s hazel ones as he brushed the loose hairs from my ponytail behind my ear. Meanwhile, Jensen untied my pajama pants and eased them off of me along with my panties. Jared leaned down and kissed me, tasting like beer and corn bread as his tongue slid over mine. Jensen opened my legs and and groaned, I’d had the day off today and had taken the time to shave damn near everything while waiting for Jensen and Jared to come home.

“Fuck sweetheart,” Jensen said “you trying to kill me or something?”

Jared stopped kissing me and looked down, a wicked smile crossing his face.

“Someone wanted our attention, badly.” He said and I smiled innocently.

“I love the attention from you two,” I said “what can I say?”

Jensen laid on his stomach and placed sweet kisses on my inner thighs while Jared kissed my lips and took my breast into his hand. He kneaded it and worked the nipple until it was nice and tight, which was perfect for him to suck on. Meanwhile, Jensen licked and sucked his way down to my pussy where he gave it short, broad licks that made me moan loudly. My back arched as he kept this up while Jared sucked on my right nipple and took the left one in his fingers, rolling it between his thumb and pointer finger. I moaned louder, each sensation they were giving me went straight to my core where Jensen lapped up every thing I gave him. He hummed in approval as Jared kissed his way up my chest and to my lips where I tangled my fingers in his dark hair. I rolled my hips into Jensen’s face, his fingers digging into my thighs.

“Jesus fuck,” Jared said.

My eyes opened, he was watching me ride Jensen’s face while biting his lip.

“Mh, you have no clue how hot this is do you?” He purred in my ear “Look at you, all strung out for us.”

“Jare,” I moaned “god, I want you so bad.”

“Let me watch sweet girl,” he said as he kissed me “you know how much I like watching you get off.”

“Yes.” I moaned as I palmed him through his pants. I watched as his eyes rolled into the back of his head while I untied his pants and freed his erection, taking it into my mouth.

“Oh fuck,” Jared breathed, his fingers tangling in my hair “like that.”

I felt Jensen’s eyes on me, so I popped off Jared’s cock and sure enough, he was smirking up at me.

“That’s it,” Jensen told me “keep going.”

I nodded and took Jared back into my mouth, my hand making up what I couldn’t fit. I felt the knot in my lower belly tightening as Jensen used his fingers to play with my clit and heat rolled up my spine.

“Ah!” I cried out, pleasure coursing through my system. Jensen pushed his tongue inside me, the strong muscle pulsing inside me as he kept working my clit. I kept up with Jensen’s pace, sucking Jared off at the same pace that Jensen was playing with me.

“Babe,” Jared breathed “oh fuck, just like-fuck-yes!”

“You gonna come for me Jared?” I asked as I lapped my tongue over the head of his cock. He twisted and groaned, throwing his head back as his hips bucked. I captured him in my mouth, sucking hard on him as he let go in my mouth, his salty taste coating my tongue. I swallowed everything he had to give me as Jensen sucked on my clit, making me cry out loudly for him.

“Jensen!” I yelled as I arched my back, my cries filling our living room.

“Come for me baby.” he said as he buried his face in me.

His beard scratched my inner thigh, his nose bumped my clit and his perfect, plump mouth sealed around my pussy as I gave in, letting go so hard, I swear I saw spots. He worked me through the high as Jared smoothed my hair again, having regained his composure.

“Such a good girl.” He said and kissed my forehead. “Roll over.” He said

I did my best to comply as Jensen lined up his cock with my soaked hole. He easily slid inside me as Jared tilted my face up to his.

“You like being between us sweet girl?” He asked and I nodded

“I love it,” I moaned “both those cocks filling me up.”

Jensen bucked harder into me, his skin hitting mine.

“He’s fucking slamming you sweet girl,” Jared said “you’re taking him so good.”

“That’s our good girl,” Jensen said, his voice ragged from pleasure “fucking taking me like this.”

Jared slipped his hands down my body, one kneading my breast while his fingers from his other hand worked my clit, making me cry out both their names as Jensen fucked me harder. I couldn’t hold on, I screamed as I clenched around Jensen, soaking him while Jared murmured in my ear what a good girl I was.

Later that night, the three of us lay in our California King sized bed; Jensen was sleeping and spooning me while Jared and I held hands, talking.

“What’s a place you’ve always wanted to go?” He asked, his fingers tangled in mine.

“Lots of places,” I told him “why?”

“Come on, think a little harder than that, you mentioned it not too long ago.” He chided me.

I thought and then asked

“The U.K?”

He nodded and asked

“What would you think about going there in a few weeks?”

“I’d say it would be cruel to tease me like that.” I told him.

“I’m not teasing.” He said “I booked the plane tickets this morning.”

“Shut up,” I said, not believing him “you’re full of shit.”

“I am not.” He said and grabbed his phone. After a few taps on his screen, he showed me the tickets. “We’re going to Scotland, England and Ireland.”

“No fucking way.” I breathed and looked at him with tears in my eyes. “Jared, I can’t even!”

“Happy anniversary baby.” He said with a kiss.

~*~*~*~*~*~

So this is my first entry for SPN Kink Bingo, I hope you guys liked it!! I tried to put SOME plot in here but....let’s face it, this is porn. Call a spade a spade am I right?

Your kind feedback is always appreciated, please feel free to like and share!! maybe hit that follow button if you feel so inclined!! All my tag lists are open so send me an ask if you wanna be on any of them!

The Squad:

@waywardbaby​ @waywardnerd67​ @familybusinesswritingbro​ @ain-t-bovvered​ @mrswhozeewhatsis​ @girlborninstorms​ @dacleverfox​ @emoryhemsworth​ @bobasheebaby​ @deanscarlett​ @myinconnelly1​ @mogaruke​ @imma-winchester-addict​​ @purpleskiesandcherrypies​ @dean-winchesters-bacon​ @animerose96​​ @coffee-n-fanfiction​​ @drakelover78​​ @curly-haired-disaster​​ @roonyxx​​ @snffbeebee​​ @ezilyamuzed​​ @mirandaaustin93​​ @srsllydunnodoncare​​ @latetothewinchesterparty​​ @emilyshurley​​ @atc74​​ @midnightsilverafterdark​​ @adoptdontshoppets​​ @biawol​​ @supernatural-teamfreewillpage​​ @spaceystacey123​​ @bella-ca​​ @clo-heda​​ @closetspngirl​​ @thekatherinewinchester​​ @maddiepants​​ @idreamofplaid​ @love-those-boys-in-flannel @flamencodiva @blueberrykushlovexoxo-blog

Dean/ Jensen:

@spnbaby-67​ @akshi8278​

[marvelmadam08]

The Princess & The Nomad (7)

With your hypnosis gone and your identity fully known, you and Steve reunite and pick you right where your left off. But with The Avengers disbanded and a new danger looming in the future, what’ll keep everything from falling apart?

Summary: You find out that Tony’s been lying to you since you’ve returned. And find a possible lead to Steve’s location.

Warnings: Mild violence, betrayal

A/N: After seeing Endgame this whole story is gonna take a sudden turn of events. Who’s seen Endgame? There will be spoilers in further chapters.

"You lied to me!" You threw a fifty pound dumbbell at Tony, he caught it before it could hit him in the head. He was armed in the suit before you even left the venue "You said you didn't know where he was!"

"I don't know where he is!"

"You have his number." You jumped over the stack of weights to tackled him down to the floor, but he backs out of the way in time to miss your fist. The floor, however, has a newly formed crack in it now "Don't lie to me Stark, where is he?"

"That number is for emergencies only."

"Then you better call it back, because you're gonna need some serious help once I'm done with you." Blue smoke rises from your hands and you start to bring the other iron suits to life.

One by one they closed in around Tony. He blasted through one of the suits whole holding off another.

"Where is he?"

"I told you already. He only gave me that number for emergencies, I don't know where he is. He never told me, I just know that he doesn't stay in the same place for too long."

"But you can find him, track him down using that phone."

"I can't track him the tech is too ancient." One of the suits grabbed Tony from behind, and slammed him to the floor. It pulled back, opening it’s hand, powering up a blast from its palm “(Y/N)!”

You pushed your arms apart, shutting the suits down and the power in the house. The both of you stood in the dark for a moment, Tony working to catch his breath. When the lights came back on your cheeks were wet, and Tony pulled away from the suit that collapsed on top of him.

“I’m sorry- I went too far.” You sniffled and drop to the floor in full on sobs

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to lie to you. I just- wanted to keep you safe. But we aren’t gonna get anywhere by fighting, I’ve lost enough family already.”

"Understood." You nod "We're not losing anymore family."

That night you and Tony stayed on opposite sides of the house, and continued to keep to yourself majority of the following day. You staying in your room, while he worked in the garage and if you were to cross paths you shares a simple 'hey, how's it going' to which the other person replied 'fine'. If you didn't know any better you'd think you and Tony were married.

Around six, while you were watching the news once more, Tony came up from the garage, a less hostile demeanor between the two of you.

"Got a second?" It was rhetorical "I gotta head back to New York soon."

"Okay, I'll be ready when we go. Not like I have anything to pack." You tell him

"No, Ross is sniffing around the compound for you now. And since you're against The Accords, and technically an illegal alien." Tony sighed "You gotta stay here while I'm gone."

"By myself?"

"I would check in on you. And I'd come back within the next month or so." He tells you "But if you got thrown in prison-"

"I'd break out, go to Norway and hide out with Odin until it's safe."

"Can't do that kid. He wasn't playing around when he said it was especially made for you. Remember back when Banner ran all your samples, there was still a few vials of your blood left behind." He paused "They built a cell, designed to inhibit your powers. And if you managed to get out of that, there are several things keyed in to your DNA that could possibly kill you before you gain your strength back."

"And who says working for the government isn't fun." you roll your eyes

"(Y/N), this is the safest place for you right now."

"Tony, there's never a safe place for me. Not New York, not Asgard. Like you said, I'm a beacon for bad." You look down at your hands "No one even wants me around, that's probably why Thor stopped visiting me. Maybe it's best if no one never saw me again."

"Hey, look at me. (Y/N), look at me." He turned your chin up "The bad things don't stop just because you're not around, if anything they just get worse when you ignore 'em. I can't convince you to stay, at least not for me. But do it for Steve. Stay in a safe spot for him, and I'll figure out a way to get you two back to each other."

You threw your arms around Tony's shoulders for a hug. "Thank you."

"We're family, but if your dad shows up first I'm sending you with him." He pats you on the back

"Fair enough." You laughed softly "And I promise I won't have any wild Asgardian parties while you're gone."

"Exactly, wait until I get back." He stood giving you a light smile "Watch the time will fly by."

***

"Are we recording FRIDAY?"

"Yes Princess (Y/N)."

"Just (Y/N) is fine." You look directly into the camera in the upper corner of the kitchen "Okay, day twelve in my lonely mansion series I pose the question: can I teach an iron suit how to cook? I guess it'd be easier if I myself knew how, but trial and error right?" You clapped and bounce over to the kitchen counter next to an iron suit that you performed a bit of magic on. Another stood by with a fire extinguisher.

The days weren't flying by as fast as Tony promised but you found small ways to entertain yourself without checking the news every ten minutes. Or meditating to check in on Heimdall.

"Okay we'll start simple, spaghetti and meatballs. We have ground beef, breadcrumbs, I read somewhere that breadcrumbs makes it taste better. And seasonings, I didn't know which ones to use so we're gonna do a bit of all of them."

"I could pull up a full recipe for the dish." FRIDAY suggested strongly

"Nope trial and error, FRIDAY. If I don't fail how will I know when I've succeeded?" You start throwing random seasonings in with the ground beef and breadcrumbs. Pepper, dried mustard, cinnamon, salt, ginger and chili powder just to name a few then push the bowl to the iron suit "Now mix."

It followed your orders, while you filled a pot with water for noodles. Out of habit you gave the TV a quick glance, a blurred photo of a woman with Wanda's features was on the screen.

"FRIDAY unmute the TV."

'...witch, a Sokovian refugee known to be in alliance with Steve Rogers, formerly known as Captain America, was allegedly spotted just outside of Denmark. Maximoff, along with Rogers, has been in hiding since the mass prison break. Possessing powers of hypnosis, and mind control, Maximoff is considered to be a weapon of mass destruction. If encountered, we warn that you call the authorities immediately-'

"Princess, I have an incoming call from Mr. Stark." FRIDAY announces

"Okay."

Tony's face pops up on the screen, muting the news again.

"Why is my iron suit wearing an apron?" He asked, watching the iron suit slide several meatballs into a frying pan

"He's cooking." You move over to the screen on the fridge "Have you seen the news? They're calling Wanda dangerous, a weapon."

"I did, that's why I called. Had to make sure you weren't escaping to Denmark. The media likes to twist things, matter of fact I wouldn't be surprised if it was a set up to get Rogers to go after her."

"If it is-"

"Then you need to stay hidden. I know you can handle yourself, but if it's a setup then you're the jackpot. Word will get to Rogers and then things will get really ugly."

You hopped onto the counter, somewhat oblivious to the meatballs still in the pan behind you. "I just feel like I should do something other than learn how to cook with the iron suits."

"And you will when the time comes. Until then- watch the meatballs!"

You turned in time for the second iron suit to spray the extinguisher onto the stove, putting out the smoking meatballs.

"Trial and error, just like I said."

"I swear you're gonna give me a heart attack, stay safe and don't burn down the house."

When the call ends, the TV pops back up. A girl with braids and a wide smile is on, her accent is heavy but she spoke clearly.

‘Wakanda's technology is far more ahead than anything Americans have experienced. That's why my people hid it from the world. My brother, King T'Challa, learned that by standing by and doing nothing we become apart of the problem. That is the purpose for our new outreach program.’ She told the interviewer

‘I must say Princess Shuri, there are some extremely outrageous devices you have here.’

The camera pans across the tech lab, showing off pieces of nanotech, virtual built cars surrounding seats made of glittering dirt and hoverboards that actually hover. You were fully intrigued by all of it.

‘Now correct me if I'm wrong, but you build your equipment from vibranium, the strongest metal on earth.’

‘Yes, all of our technical resources come from vibranium, however we are still debating the safest way to introduce it to the rest of the world.’ Shuri explained

‘And how do you feel knowing that former war hero turned rogue soldier, Steve Rogers, once used a shield made of vibranium?’ The interviewer practically shoved the microphone back towards Shuri

‘That is not relevant to the progress we've made in the program. Captain Rogers stood for something he believed in, and I believe he does what he feels is right.’ Shuri slightly narrowed her eyes at the reporter ‘If you'll excuse me, I have to return to my lab.’

She turned before the reporter could continue with her questions. You grinned at Shuri's attitude towards the reporter. It was one of the first time you heard someone other than Tony say something positive about Steve since your return.

"FRIDAY, pull up the address to the Wakanda outreach program."

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New Taglist: @all-things-marvel-related @captainofallfandoms @purpleeyeswithgoldensparkles @slaymarvel @sinnfullyblessed @beterishot

[aaronlaughswithcancer]

Ball for a Ball

I thought we were going to dinner. 

Last year, Sarah and I decided that we’d commemorate my five-year anniversary of being cancer-free by going to Craft, Tom Colicchio’s restaurant in Century City. We’d only been there once, when I surprised her right after we got engaged, and we agreed that we could only ever return to Craft for a very, very special occasion. The five-year mark felt worthy. 

And Sarah, to my surprise and delight, wanted to make our Craft date fancy. Like, ultra-fancy. She took me tuxedo-shopping for the occasion. (Because most of the men in her life are professional musicians and Southerners, I was one of the only men she knew who didn’t own a tuxedo.) We found one with cool curved lapels. I cannot lie, I looked quite fly.

The day before our big dinner, I got home from running errands when Sarah called. She has pulled into the driveway and needed help unloading some heavy things from the car. 

Her car was not in the driveway. 

My parents were. Even though they live in the Seattle area. And her parents were. Even though they live in the Atlanta area. I was, uh, pretty shocked. Sarah beamed: “They’re joining us for dinner tomorrow!” As she relished the surprise and I slowly got my bearings, we all drank wine on the front porch. Everyone shared stories about how they almost ruined the surprise or how I didn’t pick up on obvious clues. “We made a pot of chili this morning that could have fed us ten times over,” Sarah said. “You didn’t think that was weird?” I didn’t. We like leftovers. But, of course, hindsight is 20/20. 

Sarah had rented an AirBnB a couple blocks away for all the parents. We carried the barrel of chili over to the house and settled in for a fun dinner. We kept chatting it up, delighting in the surprise — we discussed travel arrangements, the menu at Craft, and which of our friends my dad enjoys following on Instagram. As we did the dishes, I got an Instagram message — from the very friends my dad had just been talking about, friends who live in England. The message was a graphic… of their corgi… landing in California? (I know, this story is very white, but oh well.)

I didn’t know what it meant at first (#Slowontheuptake) but then there was a knock on the door of the AirBnB. “Are Molly and Greg… here?” Sarah, with a level of casual indifference usually reserved for sociopaths and undercover spies, said, “I don’t know. Why don’t you answer the door?” 

It was Molly and Greg. Obviously. I was so surprised that I sat down on the floor. Being closer to the Earth seemed like a good way to recover from the shocking one-two punch. 

As I recovered and transitioned to more appropriate seating, I was informed that the whole giant group of us would be going to Craft the next evening. Yeah, we’ll be dropping some serious change into Colicchio’s pockets, but how many times does one get to celebrate beating cancer? I couldn’t have been more excited. 

We all met up for a late breakfast the next morning and went to The Grove to mess around and kill time. Sarah had made plans for the girls — manis, pedis, etc. — and she told me to go take the guys to a movie and then a nearby bar. So, one Quiet Place and two old fashioneds later, we returned to the AirBnB… where Sarah had hung up my tux and spread out a collection of things to enjoy in preparation for dinner (mostly bourbons, cards, and cheese because she knows me well). She left a note that said all the ladies were getting ready at our place and we’d all meet up right before dinner. I bet you see where this is going. But I did not!

Partly because Greg blindfolded me. 

After putting on my formal attire and going hogwild on a cheese platter (not in that order, thankfully), Greg told me it was time to meet up with the ladies. And to do so, I had to be blindfolded. Why did I need to be blindfolded in order to go to MY OWN HOUSE? Well, the answer was pretty obvious. Sarah rented a limo to take us to Craft, I thought, with what I assume was a satisfied smile on my face. We’ll get to the house, they’ll pull off the blindfold, and there’ll be a big, ridiculous limo parked in front of our driveway. 

Greg and my dad led my blinded self down the sidewalk to our place. But when it was clear we were in the driveway area and no one reached for my blindfold, I realized it wasn’t a limo. They led me into the front yard--I felt the grass under my feet--and it all hit me in an instant. There is no limo, there is no Craft--

“SURPRISE!!”

Let me interrupt the flow here for a second. When I was sick, Sarah and I had always joked that when this—and “this” meant the whole damn cancer experience—was over, we should throw a ball for my ball. It was a running gag we had, this ball, how it’d be black tie and we’d serve ball-themed foods. It would be a unique way to celebrate the end of testicular cancer, but we’d have to go all out. Would we rent a yacht or the Kodak theatre? 

Turns out our own place was more than sufficient. Sarah had created a Surprise Ball (for my ball) and thought out every detail. And it was black tie! And there were so many ball-themed foods! She transformed our entire house and yard into a party zone. There was a bar with a signature drink: the Tom Ball-ins. A photo booth. And she planned it all for months right under my nose, hiding dishes in the back of the freezer and decorations at friends’ houses.

And, most importantly, she got so many of the important people that I love—people who were there for us during the toughest time of our lives—to show up and celebrate. Most were local, but some came in from out of town. And we all partied deep into the night while stealing moments, here and there, to honor what the last five years have meant. How far we’ve come. These were the friends and family members who made care packages, cooked me dinners, visited me in chemo, and let Sarah and I cry on their shoulders. I may be oblivious to when someone’s planning a party, but it is not lost on me how truly special the people in my life are. 

Or The Person in my life. I’ve always known Sarah is a creative of the highest order. As a composer, she turns the music in her imagination into a reality so that we may all share in it. And she does the same as a party planner/surprise attacker. This Ball, clearly, had been in her imagination for years and not only did she make it a reality, she made it better than anything I ever could have guessed. For Sarah, the word “celebrate” isn’t taken lightly. It’s always an all caps word, with underlines and exclamation points with monkeys drinking champagne dancing around it. It is one of our most important verbs. And my God, she honored the word beautifully. 

I was so lucky to have Sarah by my side when I got sick and I’m just as lucky to have her by side when I’m healthy. She believes in fun but she also knows that sometimes you have to do a lot of hard work to get to the fun. And she’s always willing to do the work. It matters to her. And it’s one of the things I love most about her, and about living my life alongside her. She astonishes me daily and I highly recommend being astonished. It’s great. 

I’m also very glad she married the kind of idiot that doesn’t question her suspicious explanations for why there are 80 meatballs in the freezer. 

One year later, I still think about that Ball everyday. And I’m glad that, now, it’s usually the first thing that comes to mind when I hear the word.

[havecourage-darling]

Walking in A Winter Wonderland

A/N: Is it socially acceptable to be excited for the holidays yet? I know everyone stayed for Christmas during PoA but, again, let’s roll with it.

*As a reminder, please note - I’m no longer posting on Tumblr. If you want the continuation of this story, you can find it on AO3 or on my Masterlist.

Pairing: George Weasley x Reader

Warning: N/A

Words: ~3.3k

Previous, 5. Missed you | Next, 7. Ireland v. Bulgaria 

Masterlist

“Eggnog?” Arthur asked you, pouring some into another glass.

“Oh no.” You made a face. “I’m not fond of eggnog.”

Arthur laughed. “Me neither!” He winked and brought a flask out from his jacket pocket, pouring a hearty amount into his own glass.

“Arthur!” Molly shouted from the living room, head popping out from behind the wall. “I need you to help Percy right the tree. Fred and Ron have managed to tilt it sideways again.”

“Coming darling!” He shot you another wink and you stifled a laugh. Arthur quickly made his way to the living room and Molly rushed back into the kitchen.

You returned to your task at hand and dropped the remaining potatoes into the water. “That should do it,” you said with a smile.

Molly turned to you and frowned. “How many of those did you start?” You glanced at the full stove and shrugged sheepishly.

You’d arrived at The Burrow late last night with your parents, who had taken one step into the Weasley household and promptly became interested in every nook and cranny.

“Dad!” You hissed, embarrassed, when he’d gaped too long at a self-knitting sweater.

“Sweetheart, you can’t blame us,” your mother said, eyeing the Weasley clock with interest.

“A first wizard’s Christmas!” Your father echoed your mother’s excitement.

Unfortunately, Arthur and Molly’s enthusiasm had done little to stop their own curiosity and excitement.

“Just a few,” you assured her, stirring a pot of chili. “Mum and I wanted to make sure we got a few muggle dishes in. We’re sure you’ll love them!”

Your mother came down the stairs, hair up in a bun and huffed. “Sorry sweetheart, I needed to get the last of the presents wrapped. Oh! Molly!” Your mother looked vaguely guilty.

Molly huffed, disapproving expression evident. “I told you three, there was no need for presents! There’s a lot of us! And now you two are trying to cook! I already had to shoo your father from the kitchen!”

“Actually,” you winced. “He’s the one who started on the pies.”

Molly frowned. “That’s it! Out, out!” She pushed you towards the living room. “Go find the others - George was in there pouting, no doubt due to your absence.”

You flushed. “Molly!”

At your cry, she finally smiled. “Don’t they make the loveliest couple?” Molly asked your mother.  Who, in turn, nodded with a giant grin.

“The cutest!”

“Mum!”

“Sweetheart, I knew it was inevitable!” She turned to Molly. “A mother always knows. Besides, with some people - it’s just that simple. Look at your father and I!”

“I knew the moment I laid my eyes on the two of them.” Molly waved her wand and the pot continued to stir itself without her assistance. She then turned to your mother excitedly. “Oh! I haven’t heard the story of how you two met!”

“Well, it’s quite a long story really-”

“Oh, I don’t mind!”

Your mother flushed, pleased, and started the story you’d heard a million times. Rolling your eyes, you double checked a few of the pots before disappearing into the living room.

Ginny caught sight of you immediately and grinned. “Mum finally kick you out?”

You huffed and nodded.

“Finally! It started snowing again! Ron and Ginny want to go outside, we were waiting for you.” Hermione stood and handed you your Hufflepuff scarf. “Besides, she only let you stay in there for as long as she did because you’re her favorite daughter-in-law.”

You flushed and elbowed her in the side. “Hermione!”

“There you are!” George came down the stairs and pressed a kiss to your temple. “Thought you’d disappeared on us. What’re you lot talking about?”

Hermione and Ginny snickered as you flushed a deeper red. Giving them each a sharp look you smiled at George and nodded towards the windows. “It’s snowing again and they wanted to go out into the yard.”

“Brilliant!” Fred said, coming down the stairs. “We can hit the gnomes with snowballs.”

Fred and Ron laughed, barely putting their coats on before rushing out the door. 

“We’re going out into the yard mum!” Ron yelled out, pulling Harry out the door.

“Be careful! Dinner’ll be ready in an hour!” She yelled back.

You looped your scarf around your neck a few times and patted your coat’s pockets, looking for your mittens. “George, have you seen my-” He pulled them out of his own pocket and you grinned. “Thanks.”

He smiled and tugged on a hat, closing the door behind you.

You grinned, immediately looking up into the darkening sky. Snowflakes clung to your eyelashes and a soft breeze made you shiver.

George’s gloved hand wrapped around your own and you pulled him towards the laughter coming from the backyard. Before you could reach the rest of them, George tugged your hand, pulling you to a stop.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, looking up at him. “Do you want to go back inside?”

“I just wanted a moment. Everyone’s had you alone besides me,” George frowned dramatically. “Let’s go for a walk around the fence.”

You beamed at him and nodded. “Sorry, my parents are just a little...excited about our first Christmas together.” You leaned in to whisper. “I think my dad’s already decided he’s never letting your dad out of sight.”

George laughed. “Dad loves your parents, you know how he is with muggles. I think he scared off Hermione’s parents.”

You stifled a laugh and shook your head. “Dad doesn’t scare easily, he married an American. Oh! Which, Hermione needs to get going before dinner - she’s already stayed longer than she should’ve.”

Harry’s laughter drifted over. You turned to the sound and saw Hermione’s hair covered in snow. Fred was bent over in laughter but Ron was pink-faced, trying to brush most of it out.

“Did we act like that?” You whispered to George, despite your distance. “That obvious?”

George straightened to his full height and turned to look over at the two, still standing by the short wall a few meters away. Hermione was bright red now, pushing Ron’s hands away. Harry was making a handful of snowballs while Ginny chucked a flailing gnome over the fence.

“I hope not, but I’d reckon Lee would disagree,” George said.

You laughed lightly, closed your eyes and clasped your gloved hands together. “I can’t believe how much snow you’ve gotten here.” You quickly opened an eye and narrowed it. “Don’t you dare throw a snowball at me Weasley.”

He laughed at you, eyes bright and shook his head. “I promise.”

He tugged you off in the direction of the small tree they had on the edge of their property. You placed a palm onto the bark and smiled as a snowflake landed on your nose.

“I love the snow - I love Christmas,” you laughed and stuck out your tongue. “My dad I always used to run around in the backyard trying to catch snowflakes and make snow angels. What do wizarding families do on Christmas?”

George smiled at you and shrugged. “Regular things.”

You rolled your eyes. “George. Your regular things and my regular are vastly different.”

“We playing exploding snap, Charlie likes Gobstones, Ron likes wizards chess, Fred and I prefer pranking Percy.”

“That’s not a seasonal thing,” you joked.

George shook his head. “Right you are,” he said. “Apart from that, you’ve seen the carolers and heard the music.”

“Your mum really likes that one woman, she’s got a lovely voice,” you said. “Fred said your mum charms the wine so that it automatically refills - is that true?”

He laughed and nodded. “One galleon says they’re all off their rockers by eleven.” George leaned his weight onto the trunk of the tree and shook one of the branches. You shrieked as snow hit your bare neck and whacked him in the chest.

“George!” You scowled.

“Sorry love!” He grinned. “- had to.”

“‘Course you did.” You glanced back at the burrow and saw your mother and Molly dancing around the kitchen. You smiled. “It’s so different! A good different - although usually people put angels or stars atop of their trees.”

“Oh, wizarding families do too,” George snickered. “We just convinced mum to let us put the golden gnome on this year.”

“I like it,” you grinned. “Gives it a certain something.”

“That’s what we said!” George beamed.

You smiled and let out another squeak when George pulled you closer to him.

“I’m glad we’re here,” you said quietly, after a beat of silence. “I like spending the holidays with you.”

“Me too,” George said. “I just thought of something else muggles and wizards have in common.”

“Yeah?” You asked, settling your cheek on his shoulder. “What’s that?”

“Mistletoe.”

You craned your neck and saw a floating bundle of Mistletoe above both your heads. You looked at George whose face was a bright red and shook your head. “Of course. We wouldn’t want to risk breaking tradition.”

He grinned, pleased, and lowered his head towards yours. You surged up onto your toes and almost knocked him over.

You’d come to a realization over the past few months, that kissing George Weasley was an entire experience. Every occasion called for different types of affection.

There were times when he’d pass you in the corridors between classes and gave you a fleeting, quick kiss.

Other times, you could feel his mischief when he’d pick you up and twirl you around. He’d press quick and light kisses, smiling when you’d laugh at his antics.  

Your favorites, however, were moments like these. When you were both alone, together, and happy. George radiated joy, playfulness and a warmth that seemed to be unique to him.

Without removing his lips from your jaw, he pressed you into the tree and huffed a laugh when you complained.

You lifted yourself up as high as you could and tugged him closer to you. He leaned back for a moment, pressing his forehead against yours. His eyes were closed, his nose bumping yours, and wore a small smile. You tried to catch your breath and watched it mix with his in the cold air.

“I think that’s enough to satisfy the mistletoe,” you joked, still feeling a bit breathless.

George pretended to think for a moment and shook his head. “I don’t think so - we wouldn’t want to break tradition.”

You smiled and rolled your eyes. “We definitely wouldn’t want that.”

George laughed, his eyes light and happy. He stood still for a moment, just looking at you until you squirmed. “What? Do I have something on my face?”

He grinned and shook his head. “I love you.”

You froze, eyes widening. “George, if this is a joke…”

George snorted. “Definitely not, love.”

Watching him warily, you slowly broke out into a grin. “You absolute dope, I love you too.”

He let out a big relived sigh and rubbed the back of his neck, uncharacteristically nervous. “I’ve been trying to say that for the longest time-”

“He really was! It’s pathetic!” Fred’s voice came from your left.

You gathered snow from the ground and threw it at him. “Go away!”

Fred and Ron’s laughter floated over but Hermione and Ginny managed to pull them away.

“Dinner’s almost done! I’ve got to go soon,” Hermione called out to you two. “We’ll be inside!”

You waved, indicating you’d heard her and turned back to George.

“Where were we?” You asked.

George glanced up towards the mistletoe and wiggled his eyebrows. You shook your head but smiled, just as pathetically, back at him.

///

“I think I’m going to explode,” Harry said.

Fred and Ron moaned from their seats, each slumped against each other.

Ginny huffed a laugh but clutched her stomach right after. You looked around the table and smiled at the sight.

“Why are you so happy? Your boyfriend’s dying,” George said, dramatically slumping against you.

You grunted, shifting yourself so that his weight didn’t knock you off your chair.

“Do you want some more?” Your mother asked Harry, hovering, as she usually did around him.

Molly pursed her lips, on his other side. “Did you have pie?”

Harry smiled and pat his stomach. “I did, I promise. I don’t think I can take another bite.”

Your mother continued to fuss over him and you hid your smile by burying your face in George’s hair. You knew Harry secretly loved your parent’s fussing.

“Time for presents!” Molly announced suddenly. “We left one for each of you so we could open them together!”

You grinned and pushed George off of you. “Ron! You’re going to love mine.”

A quick dash to the living room and two minutes later, you were all seated and holding two presents each.

“Awesome!” Ron grinned. He had opened his green box to find multiple Chudley Cannon memorabilia.

“Look at the robes!” You said, smiling.

“Wicked!” He gaped.

“Jessica got their signatures for me a few months ago, they played a game by her house. Said she’d do me the favor,” you said happily.

Ron pulled on the autographed quidditch robes and beamed at you.

“Oh my goodness!” Arthur said with a loud laugh. “You shouldn’t have! Look! Molly, it moves!”

You watched Arthur happily shake his snowglobe. Your dad and you had gone through a few yard sales, knowing that Arthur would love anything muggle related.

After a few minutes, you’d all broken off into groups - Ron and Harry having gone outside to take turns on the firebolt.

Arthur and your mother were having a deep conversation about a new novel they had both read. You could hear Ginny and Percy teaching your father about quidditch and the upcoming World Cup.

“We’re not trying to be forceful but, we can’t help but realize we didn’t get anything special,” Fred said with a teasing grin.

You huffed and shook your head. “I did get you two something, you just didn’t see it.” You crawled near the tree and picked up the last present. You’d wrapped it up in silver and blue paper with a giant bow at the top.

“Interesting,” George said, smiling.

“Seems a bit small for two people,” Fred joked.

You elbowed him and he laughed. “Only joking! I bruise easily you know.”

In all honesty, you had been a bit nervous about what to get them. You’d given each of the twins their own presents at Hogwarts before you’d left. This, however, you had been working on for a few months now.

“It’s something I thought up a while ago. ‘Been working on it in my spare time. I’m not that good really, it’s just something I’ve always done...you definitely don’t need to use it or name your-”

“-badger, take a breath,” Fred said and George squeezed your knee.

You inhaled deeply and they smiled, tearing open the flat box. Once they’d tossed the wrapping paper aside, they both stilled. Their faces gave away nothing, both frozen.

“Oh, you hate it, don’t you?” You frowned. “I’m sorry, I know it’s not very good-”

“What’s that?” Ginny asked, passing you on her way to the kitchen.

You glanced at the still frozen twins and winced. “I’d drawn something for them - what I imagined their shop to look like.”

“Oh! Let me take a look,” Ginny said with a wide grin. “It’s beautiful! That’s such a great name, Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. It looks just like them.”

Ginny squeezed your shoulder as she passed you. Fred was the first to unfreeze, eyes darting to yours.

“I just - I remembered how all the Hogwarts elves call you all Wheezy. It kind of stuck after that,” you rambled anxiously.

“This is - it’s - bloody brilliant!”

You grinned, relieved, and a bit proud. “Do you really like it?”

“Like it?” George said, finally meeting your eyes. “We love it.”

“Blimey, there’s more!” Fred pulled a few more pages behind the initial one.

You’d drawn the front of a shop, the largest sketch, but had also included a few items that you had seen them experiment with.

“Don’t need this,” George wiggled his eyebrows at you, motioning to the purple heart shaped love potion you’d scribbled into a random corner.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help your smile. “It’s not much - but, I just wanted you two to see what you could get if you really tried. If this is what you want to do - if this is the dream, I want you both to know that I know you can do it.”

Fred frowned and tossed his arms around your neck. He didn’t say anything, but you knew by his expression that it meant a lot to him.

“I’m going to go show Ron,” Fred said, eyes on the drawings. “Thank you, badger.”

“S’alright,” you smiled bashfully.

Fred practically dashed out the room, bumping into a few corners on his way out.

“I can’t believe you did that for us,” George said quietly.

“‘Course,” you said, trying to catch his eyes. “I know everyone else just sees your jokes and pranks and thinks those are the Weasley twins. But I know you two like the back of my hand. You don’t fool me George Weasley. I’ve seen how much this dream means to you. It may just be a small idea now, but, maybe this will help you two plant a seed.”

George’s eyes bore into yours for a beat before he surged forward and knocked you off the ottoman you’d been perched on.

“Ow! George,” you groaned, laid out on your back on the floor. “What was that?”

“Sorry,” he said, not sounding at all sorry. “You’re a lot easier to knock over than I thought.”

You rolled your eyes.

He made his way towards your torso, eyes taking in your smile. He smiled back, his hand coming up to your face. “Thank you.”

“It was nothing,” you said quietly. “The drawings aren’t much-”

“Not for that-” he frowned. “Not only that.”

You almost went cross eyed trying to get a good look at him.

“Thank you for believing in us, for knowing that we can do it. It...it means a lot.”

“‘Course, I’ll always believe in you two,” you wrinkled your nose. “Especially you, but, Fred would say I’m being biased.”

“I’d hope you would be, considering the fact that I’m the one you snog,” George joked.

You pretended to think. “Ginny is still my favorite, Molly’s a close second.”

George gaped, mock outraged expression on his face before he started reaching for your ribs.

“No - George, don’t you dare,” you threatened, trying to move away.

“Take it back!” He said, tickling your sides.

You laughed loudly, trying to buckle him off you, but only managed to be pinned down more.

“Alright!” You shouted after a few minutes. “I give, I give!”

George smiled. “Say it.”

“You’re my favorite Weasley,” you said, still giggling.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” He grinned, leaning down to give you a kiss.

You shoved at his shoulder. “You’re a menace George Weasley.”

“Yeah,” he kissed you again, “but I’m your menace.”

Watching his carefree grin, you shook your head. “Yeah, you nutter. You’re my menace.”

George’s wide smile widened even further and he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. You laughed and shoved at him again. “Merry Christmas you tosser.”

He laughed, his shoulders shaking, and kissed your nose. “Merry Christmas love.”

“George Weasley!” Molly shrieked from the hallway. “What are you doing? Get off of the poor girl!”

[bolbianddolanhouse]

BNHA self insert AU

Nani the heck is this? Read here!

Chapter 12: Ni es Secreto, Soy un Pinche Chingona!

It’s a few days before Culture Week and I have everything ready for the whole week. Only thing left is to make some treats to sell at the festival, I got permission to use the school kitchen to make conchas and agua fresca for that and got them done the night before day 1. Mimi and Jin get their outfits done and we practiced a group thing to talk about culture shock, it was going to be lit and I was showing excitement.

Day 1: Family and Home culture

I was the last one to leave the dorms to avoid spoiling my surprises. I was in traditional wear of long skirt, hand embroidered shirt and serape. Along with the braids in ribbons pinned up into loops and simple makeup, I looked like a real muchacha. I roll up with the squad in their traditional robes and we didn’t care about the stares we got as we walked the halls. We sat in homeroom just to hear the announcements and we parted to our mini tour of the classes to talk about our culture. I gave my family and home presentation along with a sampling of the conchas I made to boost my sales at the end of the week. I walk to hero class when I usually have that class and run into the Big Three.

“Palma-san! You look so decorated! I always forget that you’re not Japanese.” said Nejire.

“You really do look like a woman from your culture” Amajiki said shakily “so colorful”

“Yes so effortlessly beautiful” said Miro as he grabbed my hand to kiss it. I pull my hand away before his lips met them.

“It’s impolite to kiss an un-courted woman in public in my culture” I said to integrate the theme of culture “Oh but here! have a sample of the treats I’m selling at the festival. I’m raising money to fund scholarships for international students going into hero work and I’d appreciate it if you’d tell your classmates to come and buy from me.”

They take a bite of the concha and their eyes widen “This is delicious! Palma-san you made this?!” exclaimed Amajiki.

“Yes I did! glad you liked it!” I said as I gave a polite smile “well I have to go and give another presentation, hope to see you at my stand later in the week!”

I briskly walk to the class just so I don’t run into anyone else I didn’t want to talk to. Meanwhile in the hero class...

“I wonder if Palma-san made it to school?” said Uraraka concerned “I didn’t see her leave the dorm.”

“I heard she’s here but she’s in full traditional wear” said Momo “I can’t wait to see her! from what Kendo said, she looks like a natural beauty!”

“She’s been so busy lately, maybe she was late?” said Jiro “I saw her car in the parking lot.”

“Class to your seats” said Aizawa “its a bit early but we’re having Midnight and All Might sit in today’s first half of class this week for a special presentation.”

“What kind of presentation sensei?” ask Midoriya “does it have to do with laws?”

Midnight and All Might walk in quietly and shuffled to the back of the room to take a seat as Aizawa spoke “No, not that type of presentation. It’s a peer presentation by somebody you know very little about.”

The class starts to murmur on who it could be, then I slide open the door. Everyone stops to look at me in my traditional wear, the room so silent that you can hear the click of my ankle boot heel on the tile as I walked.

“Buen dia a todos! Thats hello everyone one in Spanish!” I said putting my wicker hand basket on the front table.

“What simplistic beauty you exude Palma-san! OH! what should we call you since your the presenter?” said Aoyama.

“Hmmm, you can call me senorita Palma or Itati, both are honorifics in my culture.” 

“How is your full first name an honorific?” asked Kirishima

“My first name is from a dialect spoken by the natives in Mexico and part of South America, it means flower that grows in the water. We take great pride in our given names that we address each other by full first name basis to show respect to the name and the person.”

“Such beauty and loveliness within the name too!” said All Might “you really grew into your name.”

I blushed and diverted my gaze to my basket “oh please have mercy, it’s superstitious to make an un-courted woman flushed with such compliments! It’s said that if a man makes the single woman flustered with compliments, it will delay further the day they’ll meet their future spouse!”

Midnight teased All Might “Seems like pushed that day too far ey Yagi?”

“Anyways, any body in the mood for a sweet treat?!” I said opening my basket and using my quirk to pass out the conchas and explaining my stand and what I’m fundraising for.

“So soft and yummy! You made this?! Such a talented young lady! Your mother must be proud to have raised such a young woman! I will definitely buy from you!” are all the compliments I got for my conchas. As they were distracted, I loaded up my slide show presentation of home videos and pictures of my culture and family.

“Ok lets get started! As you know, I’m American born but my roots are from Mexico. Today I will be sharing a glimpse into my culture and family and why I am the way I am. Here’s my family, and here’s my family before coming to America. It was just my parents and that little girl right there, that’s my older sister! In my culture, you’ll often see families of 3 or more children. If you want to see it in terms of quirk types, double quirks is a very common thing. The 2 most common quirks are elemental and telekinesis, science believes it has to do with the environment in Mexico but I think it has to do with our lively hoods for survival. Here you see a bunch of men and women fishing, cooking and crafting goods with their quirks...these people are working. Just like how heroes here use their quirks to work, they do too but for more practical reasons. There’s not a huge hero culture in Mexico, we do however have a HUGE tourist culture so all of our energy and business is geared toward the tourists and visiting heroes that come and enjoy our weather and beaches. Here’s a picture of my family’s businesses, on my mom’s side, my grandpa owns a seafood shack and uses his water and low range telekinesis to fish. And one of her uncles owns a denim pants brand and designs them using his quirk that manipulates thread, kind of like Best Jeanist. On my dad’s side, grandpa was a farmer and an english teacher, he had the earth and plant growth quirk to manage a farm and his 8 children. Grandma was a nurse and used her super speed quirk to assist doctors and upkeep the household. My family now, consists of 3 children and my hard working parents. We have a very strong sense of family and dynamic to support each other. My dad would set up heavy things, older sister would help him, little brother would clean the unreachable areas and I would help my mother with the cooking and other housework. I learned how to cook for a large family with all that time I spend in the kitchen helping my mom. I can cook anything and make it delicious for a group of 15 or more with my experience. You might ask, well what about your fighting techniques? Heres a short home video of my siblings and I fighting over who’s turn it was to get on the roof to clean it... if you paid attention, my sister lands some heavy punches on me and my brother but they’re with form and I grabbed her at just the right time to suplex her right on top of my brother before they ganged up and threw me over the garage. They have the power quirks, so I have to get crafty with the fighting moves for the copy or, if my mom shows up to use the erasure, keep fighting without quirks to assure my dominance. In Mexico, these wrestle like moves are called Lucha Libre and it’s become more of a spectator sport than an actual fight technique nowadays. As you see in this picture, these luchadores are masked and in a hero-like uniform, this is all part of the performance/fight. It’s an amazing thing to watch! Heres a short clip of one of my favorite matches as a child...See that freaking finisher?! That’s called the flying golden eagle and I have yet to use it on somebody so who knows! Maybe in our next training session I’ll use it on one of yall. Even though I’m a middle child and in my culture, middle children don’t get married or finish school to take care of their aging parents until they die. I’m breaking that cycle by being here to fully finish school and go to higher education because I crave knowledge. To finish this presentation with something cool, heres a home video of me and my siblings cracking open coconuts with our quirks!”

Everyone claps at the end and I get a bunch of hands up “oh jeez uh I have time for 3 questions, lets go with Midnight.”

“Yes I have a question about Lucha Libre, who taught you how to do the techniques?”

“Oh I taught myself and I practice them on my siblings when we’d get into fights on a near daily basis. Over time I just made it my default to pick up on new moves every other day.” I get murmurs and I pick my next person “next uhhh, Mina”

“What was that meal you were cooking in the picture with your mom? Those were some big pots of food.”

“Oh that picture was when we were cooking christmas dinner! In the pot I was stirring was beans, next to it was fideos or tomato pasta, on the stove is ponche or cinnamon tea with seasonal fruit and the one next to my mom is birria de chivo or goat cooked in red chili paste.”

“YOU EAT GOAT?!” said the class in shock.

“Yes its good meat! always reminds me of christmas mmhm... ok uhhh last question, Todoroki.”

“I don’t fully believe you were the weak one in your family, what are your family’s quirks?”

“Great question! My mom has Full range Telekinesis and Erasure, my dad has metal manipulation, my sister has Rampage and Fire and my little brother has Elasticity and Flight. My mom is the most powerful that she can stop our fighting with just one look! My dad can make anything out of metal, he can do this thing were he takes a small piece of scrap metal, put it in his mouth and chew it around, spit it out and its a whole new thing like a screw or hook. My sister has two power quirks but they’re hard to control because of Rampage, if you didn’t know, thats in the emotionally triggered category and hers is triggered by anger. When you get her angry, she gains super strength and speed plus with her fire, boy you better pray you don’t get on her bad side. My little brother can stretch his body and fly with speed, excellent for air attacks. Though I can levitate, I can’t move at his speed so often if I’m not careful when in the air, he can air strike me down.”

“So what you’re saying is, you aren’t the strong one, you’re the smart one” said Todoroki making sense of it “I understand now.”

“Yup! and that concludes my day 1 presentation. Thank you so much for listening, tomorrow I’ll be doing folklore storytelling so get ready to be enchanted!”

I go to my next 2 presentations then lunch, I met up with Mimi and Jin to wind down a bit. We’re just happy that we’re not wearing pants and nobody is being racist. I go make the rest of my presentations until the end of the day. I drive back to the dorms to prepare and rest for my storytelling portion. I get praise for my commitment from the others and ask if I can make them some of that ponche when it gets colder out. I go to bed much happier than I was a week ago, my favorite parts of me were coming back.

Day 2: Folklore Storytelling

I dress up in a plain orange huipil and a white ankle length skirt with the same makeup look and ankle boots. The braids were simple with ribbon weaved into them and I brought a bunch of small hand instruments and puppets to do my storytelling. Mimi and Jin were doing food presentations and I got a bit booty tickled because theirs are so easy to talk about. I do my rounds and get really into my storytelling. When I get to the hero class, I get a bit more special with the experience.

“Hola clase 1-A! Como estan hoy?” I say in high energy.

“Hola senorita Palma!” said everyone in unison.

“Ok for this presentation, I’m going to need the desks to be pushed back quite a bit and everyone to sit on the floor please.” Everyone quickly does what I requested and gathered around as I finished setting up. “Really quick, Shoji, may I copy your quirk for this one?”

“umm yes sure” he said softly as I put my hand on his cheek. I spout 4 arms and 2 mouths for all the instruments I was going to use. In the other presentations I just used my levitation to do some of the instruments but I couldn’t play the wood flute and talk at the same time.

“Today, I will be sharing some of my favorite folklore from my culture the way a street performer would story tell. Heres the story of the Legend of the two Volcanos, a love story of Princess Iztaccihuatl and Valiant Warrior Popocatepetl.” I hear the soft gasps as I played the music and moved the puppets with my quirk and the shocked expressions when they saw that it was a sad story. “...and today you can see the two volcanos as they stand vigilant as an eternal testament of the love Popocatepetl had for his Princess.” I look at the class and see tears as some of them were moved by the story.

“That warrior is so manly to beg to the Gods to stay by his love” Kirishima spoke up, wiping his tears away.

“Oh my, well I’m glad you were moved by that story! Let me tell you a more light hearted one, how about the patron saint of Mexico Virgin Guadalupe and how Juan Diego’s faith brought hope to the people of Mexico.” As I told the story, I heard the awes and wows from the class as they see the journey Juan Diego went through to bring hope. “...and so on that very hill, you can visit the shrine with the people’s symbol of justice and hope with rose bushes planted everywhere. All thanks to one man’s faith, every year on the day of the apparition, we sing La Guadalupana to show our faith to celebrate our symbol and Juan Diego.” I start singing the shorten version of the song and the class started clapping in rhythm, really getting into it.

“Wow! what beautiful singing” said All Might “as one symbol of justice to another, that was a very touching story.”

“Thank you, thank you for your kind words and claps” I say as I check the time “hmm, it seems like I have time for one more story! What do you want to hear? A ghost story? Another love story? OH I KNOW! How about the tale of the Rabbit and the Jaguar?”

“Yes please! That one!” said the class in unison.

I start to tell the story and I take a quick peek at the audience during the chasing of the rabbit and everyone is intrigued by the puppets and story. It made me really happy that I wasn’t being ignored. “...and legend has it that you can still see the rabbit on the moon, laughing at how he tricked the Jaguar.”

“If I were the Jaguar, I’d eat the rabbit before it tricked me!” growled Bakugo “no way I’d let some cutesy animal get the last laugh.”

“Oh si? Then why do you fall for my tricks mighty Jaguar?” I said snidely as I put the puppets away “I’m the quick witted Rabbit, and you the gullible and cocky Jaguar”

The class went ballistic with that roast, Bakugo got mad that I made a factual point. I say my good byes and set off to do the rest of my presentations. After school, when I got to the dorms, I saved my voice and rested for the next day.

Day 3: Holidays

I woke up extra early to put on day of the dead skeleton makeup and a catrina outfit. I changed up the colors to greens, golds and yellow just to mix things up. I put on a crown of silk sunflowers, posies and lilies on my head to accent my braid loops. I was going to talk about day of the dead and milestone birthdays. Mimi and Jin were doing the same and they were just as decorated as me, you would’ve thought we were aristocrats of our country. As I walked class to class to give my presentations, I played the guitar and sang La Calaca. The sound of my singing echoed throughout the halls that some people peeked out of there classes to see who was singing but I guess I was singing well because nobody asked me to stop. As I made my way to the hero class, the others heard the music softly playing down the hall.

“What beautiful singing! thats definitely Seniorita Palma!” said Hagakure “I wish I understood Spanish to resonate to what she’s singing.”

“I’ve been picking up on some Spanish, I want to make some conversation with her today” said Iida so proudly.

“Are you gonna confess in Spanish?” asked Midoriya.

“nnn-No! I just want to practice is all!”

“Practice for what? to ask her father for her hand in marriage?” said Kaminari “are you going to claim your princess oh valiant warrior! Better say it quick before she turns to into-”

He was cut short as I walked in singing, everyone gasped at the change of colors and skull makeup.

“Seniorita Palma! you look like a spring goddess!” exclaimed Momo.

“Oh gracias! Your compliments on my looks make my heart flutter.” I put my guitar down and start setting up for my presentation. I start of day of the dead and set out the offerings while explaining the history and what everything means. “...for this alter, I’m paying respects to 3 very important people in my life, for my grandfather Joaquin, Frieda Kahlo and La Fiera.”

“Why those people?” asked Sato.

“Glad you asked! Joaquin is my grandpa on my dad’s side, he inspires me to be the very best at what I do and go beyond with education and hard work. Frieda Kahlo is a famous artist that became one to cope with her chronic pain and traumatic events, she inspires me to be expressive as an outlet for my emotions and that even the worst things can be expressed beautifully. La Fiera is a famous and decorated lucha libre westler, I admired his stage presence as a witty and zingy tough guy. I aspire to be as witty and crafty as he is and I pay homage to him every time I fight, I use his spin moves and flying finishers.”

I then moved on to the next few things like Quinceanra, Christmas, birthdays and religious rites of passages. “...and for being good ninos y ninas, I brought some Mexican candy for yall.” I use my quirk to pass out the candy and everyone was perplexed by it.

“Question, this is candy?!” said Iida standing up “this is covered in chili powder!”

“Mine is just chili and lime powder!” said Mineta.

“Thats the norm in mexican candy, spicy and sour covered sweet things. My favorite is the dried mango in chamoy, spicy plum sauce!”

“Its DELICIOUS!” cried out Bakugo with a sandia con chile lollipop “The spice is perfect! I’ve been missing out on this stuff!”

“I thought you might like it!” I said packing my stuff “that wraps up today’s presentation, tomorrow I’ll be performing at the open stage with my squadron and some other students! Sensei will let you know which time slot you guys will see our performance.” I said my good byes and picked up my guitar to sing to my next presentation. When lunch came, I got a text from Iida

[Hola Itati! Puedes comer conmigo hoy?]

I giggled at his attempt [Si puedo, adone?]

[estoy en la patio]

[ok a yi voy]

I walk over from the classroom I was at with my guitar playing Ay Mama Inez as I was walking to the patio. Little did I know, I was being watched from the second floor,

“You’ve been spying on her for a week already Shinso” said his friend Tetsutsu “you should go talk to her!”

“I’m trying to find the opportune time” Shinso said sighing “she seems like a girl of reason, I can’t just go up to her and say that I’ve been spying on her. She’ll get on defense and end me.”

“nah! she’s a nice girl” Tetsutsu said as he took a sip of his drink “when she trained with some of us, we swarmed her with fighting questions and answered all of them with ease and kindness that when we fought, I didn’t expect her to kick all of our asses so brutally!”

“Not surprised, she’s got the guts and beauty” he said as his eyes followed me to the patio to meet up with Iida “seems like I’m not the only one who wants her attention.”

Cut to Iida to the patio and hearing me approach. I do a quick spin as I ended the song. 

“Brava! Lovely singing Ita!” he said clapping.

“Gracias Tenya!” I said leaning my guitar against the tree we were under. “oye, estas aprendieno espainol?”

“uhhh translation? I don’t know that much spanish hehehe” he said nervously.

“You just answered what I asked hehehe, I asked if you were trying to learn spanish.”

“OH! yea I am, I wanted to try my conversational with you, if you’re alright with it.”

“sure! lets start” I said without missing a beat “Dime un secreto”

“Did you say tell me a secret?” he asked as I nodded “ummm.....ok! El jugo de naranja es my gasolina, por esto tomo mucho de eso.”

I bust out laughing “con razon! Ay Tenya es muy chistoso! Por esto es me cais bien.”

“how do I ‘fall good’ on you?”

“Oh its a spanish saying, to ‘cai bien’ means to get along or to be eased by. With us, I get along with you.”

Iida gets a bit blushed “Tu me cais bien tambien Itati, looks like I have alot to learn huh?”

“Why did you pick up on spanish anyways?” I said taking out my tupperware of fruit salad “You tryna get married?”

“WHAT?! No! wait- is that a thing?”

“Yea, if you learn the home language of someone you fancy” I said chewing on a piece of melon “it’s with the intention of asking their parents for their hand in marriage. Thats what the spaniards did to native mexicans post invasion society.”

“Well I don’t know about all that but I just wanted to learn because” he started as his gaze shifted onto me “because I thought it was interesting and I don’t hear you speak it really. I-i really like your accent when you speak in spanish, it’s sounds very warm and inviting.”

I nearly choke on my melon chunk and get flushed. We did more conversation but I had a feeling at the back of my mind that maybe he does like me. But he has a chance to ask me everyday but never takes the chance, I guess I’ll never know I say to myself as I walk to my next presentation. After school, I prepare and sleep early for all the things I had planned.

Day 4: Performance Arts

I get up early to get all my costume changes and instruments ready for my set. I get to school to do a quick sound check and set up. I do a marching band parade kick off, the members are some of my intelligence classmates of all levels and years & the rest were me using a clone quirk I copied from a 2nd year. And of course I was the drum major, big hat and mace fantasy along with custom uniforms for everyone since UA doesn’t have a marching band. I did my songs between acts with costume change.

“I can’t wait to see what senorita Palma has planned for their acts!” excitedly exclaimed Uraraka “I bet its something over the top!”

“I don’t know how she’s going to top herself after yesterday” said Tokoyami “but whatever it is, it’s going to be impressive.”

Everyone gets settled in the outdoor assembly area and Present Mic gets on stage.

“Everybody say HEY!” crowd is slient “oh boy- lets give a welcome to our opening act! Take it away UA MARCHING CADETS!”

In the distance you can hear a booming “BAND, TEN HUT! HoooOOORA!” followed by a 3 whistle blows. The marching arrangement of Can’t Hold Us starts and the crowd was looking around to see where was the music coming from.

“We don’t have a marching band” said Jiro confused “who and where is that music coming from?”

“LOOK! over there!” gasped Midoriya as the parade of 20 people came down from inside the school. Everyone was perplexed by the sound and the in sync all the marching was. The song changed to Funkytown and everyone was getting in the groove. I was doing fancy mace work to wow the crowd.

“I wonder if Palma-san in that group kero?” asked Asui “she mentioned she played the saxophone and knows how to play jazz and blues.”

“I want to know who’s the person in the front” said Kirishima wiggling to the beat “the way they’re twirling that staff is breathtakingly stylistic! I bet that’s their support item!”

As the parade made it up the stage and arranged themselves as the song ended, Mic walked up with the microphone “WOW! That projection! Give it up to our super cool drum major that made this marching display possible, the stage is yours!” he said as he held up the microphone.

“Thank you Mic sensei” I said as a took off my hat to reveal my face and curly hair “HELLO UA! For those that don’t know me, My name is Itati Palma, intelligence 1st year! I am American born with Mexican roots and while in America, I actually was part of a school marching band, I played saxophone and trained to be a drum major. Crazy how I went from a band kid to agent in training huh? I couldn’t do it without the talents of my band members here! Why don’t y’all take off your hats and show our audience?”  

They took off their hats to show that 5 of the members were me. “thats right folks your eyes don’t deceive you! I made 5 clones of myself to fill in the missing saxophone, cymbal, tuba, quad and clarinet players. Everyone else is from the intelligence program across all levels and years! Shout out to them! We have one more song and our first act will start, band are you ready?”

“CADETS!” they shouted as I conducted them to the tune Fly Me to the Moon. The song ended and we got backstage to get my next set ready. After Mimi’s polka dancing and Jin’s mini drama act was my latin jazz set. I played Vida es Un Carnival and Girl From Ipanema with my clones and 2 other members as the drummer and bassist as my ensemble. Next 2 were some folktale acts then it was my classic jazz set, same ensemble but in jazz club fantasy, we played Summer Wind and Moonlight Serenade. That was supposed to be it for my sets but one of the student acts got their costumed teared at a crucial place and couldn’t do their dance, I swooped in and said that I’ll do a solo bilingual song. Mic announced me in and I walk out in a back up dress, in case my latin costume ripped or stained.

“I dedicate this song to all the people that are in love and can’t find the right words to tell that special someone how you feel. Maybe this song will help.”

I start playing Tu Amor and all of 1-A looks at Iida, but he doesn’t notice them, the song made him feel like it was just him and Palma. At the end of the song their was an uproar of cheers and I was taken back at first but I smiled and bowed before turning it back over to Mic to end the assembly. I had to do that assembly one more time for the other half of the school then I had down time before school ended. As I was loading everything into my Jeep, Iida walked up to me.

“Ita! oh good thing I caught you before you left.”

“hehehe silly we live in the same dorm!”

“right hehe WELL I wanted to tell you that I was impressed by your performances! You never cease to amaze me with your talents.”

“thank you! I loved preforming for everyone, I feel so at home when I get up in front of everybody to entertain.”

“It shows! umm I wanted to ask you something” he said hesitantly “I was wondering if you’d like to see the fireworks with me at the festival, I wanted to tell you something important under them.”

“Oh that sounds nice but it would have to depend if I sell out before they start”

“Oh right your stand! I’ll tell everyone to buy from you so you can join me.”

“I’d love that! Thanks, but why can’t you tell me your important news before the fireworks?”

“Oh because um” he stammered “I wanted to make it memorable, it’s your first festival here. Since you can’t really look around the stands, I thought we’d enjoy the fireworks at least.”

“Thats very sweet of you, now I really hope I sell out before nightfall!”

We head to the dorms in my car and I rest up for the next day. Meanwhile the girls confront Iida.

“So so so so, did you ask her?” asked Mina as she bounced.

“Yes I asked her but she can’t unless she sells out at her stand” said Iida full of nerves still “I can’t believe I’m finally going to tell her...what if I mess it up? what if she doesn’t sell out and misses the fireworks? what if-”

“Chill out Iida-kun!” said Jiro “its hard to mess up, she’s a smart girl, she’ll understand and give you an answer. And if you’re so concerned about her missing the fireworks, just go to the stand and watch them from there.”

“Jiro-chan is right! Palma-san is going to spend time with you regardless, I’m rooting for you two.” cheerfully said Momo.

“Momo-chan, are Iida and Palma your OTP now kero?” asked Asui “I thought you wanted Mirio and Palma to happen?”

“Yea but given the current situation, Palma doesn’t have anyone on their tail nor is seeking” explained Momo as everyone uncomfortably listened “Tokoyami and Palma isn’t suitable, all the other boys are either already shipped or undesirable, that leaves Iida as her best option.”

Everyone goes to bed just to make Momo stop talking about her ships because it was starting to get cringy. Iida lays in bed acting out how he was going tell Palma how he feels.

Day 5: Culture Shock

Nothing special planned for this day, it was a talk show/interview situation on the school broadcast hosted by Mic sensei. Myself and the other international students of UA, all 10 of them across all grades and programs, talked about coming over to Japan and hero culture. I didn’t talk too much about it to avoid that traumatic event that lead me here. Everyone tuned in to hear and see us. I go about my normal school day to upkeep with the lessons I might of missed and got my baked goods and agua fresca ready to transport and sell for the next day.

Day 6: The Festival

I get up early to get ready so I can set up my stand before the grounds opened to the public. I get dressed in the back of my car with Mimi and Jin covering me as I changed into my blue campeche dress with white ribbons in my braid loops. I paired it with a simple make up look, mexican flag seprape and yellow rose hair pins to hold up my braid loops. I wore my huaraches because I know I’m going to be standing all day to sell this bread. Right away I get a bunch of customers and it was nice but after a while I didn’t get steady customers. I was selling agua fresca faster than conchas by midday because of the heat and the other stands were running out of bottled water. By 4pm, Iida came by my stand.

“Hola senorita, como se pasa aqui?”

“Hola Tenya, mas o menos aqui.”

“uh, translation, sorry hehehe”

“I said I was doing more or less here, like at this rate I’m not going to sell out in time to see the fireworks with you and it’s making me a little sad.”

“I see, well it so happens that I’m in the mood for something sweet!” he said taking out his wallet “give me 20 conchas and a large of the jamica.”

“Oh jeez ok, your total is 3,200 yen. Let me get you a bag for all that bread” I said using my quirk to serve his drink and putting the bread in the biggest paper bag I had “here you go, thank you for your donation to my cause! Come by later to see if I’m free.”

“Thank you Ita! I will!” he said walking away. I had no idea what he did with all that bread but business slightly picked up, I saw some familiar faces and had nice interactions with them. Then familiar face that I didn’t have a name to came up to my stand at sundown.

“Hi! Welcome to my stand” I said warmly as he raised his head to meet my face.

“Hmmm mexican sweet bread and drinks? Interesting” he said in an almost monotone voice but from the eye bags under his eyes, I could tell he was on day 2 of no sleep “say, aren’t you that intel student that took down the big three in that practice test?”

“Oh you tuned in for that broadcast? Yup thats me” I said trying not to brag or scream at him to hurry up and buy something.

“Cool, I’m Hitoshi Shinso, you train with my friends in 1-B” he said awkwardly like he didn’t know when to introduce himself or if he should’ve at all.

“Oh you’re Tetsutsu’s friend! He tells me about you” I said to bring this awkward conversation to an end so he can buy something and leave “did he tell you about my stand?”

“sort of, I just came by because I’ve been meaning to approach you since the broadcast but I’m a bit-” he said straining to keep his cool “just a bit of scaredy cat to come up to talk to you because of your uh talents.”

“Oh well uh thanks but I’m really nice, I don’t fight like that unless you provoke me” I said as I understood why he’s acting weird, he has a crush on me “well what can I get you?”

“hmm? oh um can I get 3 breads a medium of this cinnamon rice milk”

“Ok, your total is 600 yen” I said pouring his drink and getting the money he hands me, its a 1,000 yen bill “Out of 1,000- let me get your change of-”

“No need!” he said getting his bag small baggie of bread “keep it as donation for the cause. Also are you going to watch the fireworks? it’s going to start in an hour and a half.”

“Oh shit really?” I said looking at my phone for the time, it was almost 6pm and I was at my last 151 breads and few cups of drinks “If I sell out of product before then, I can but from the looks of it I might not be able”

He leaves and ping Mimi and Jin to help me boost sales a bit. Things did pick up a bit but when the announcement came on that the fireworks show was going to start in 5 minutes, I still had 20 conchas and 2 large cups of agua fresa left. Feeling defeated, I just stood at my stand to finish selling and maybe catch a glimpse of the show between sales. As they started, nobody came by and I thought man, I feel bad that it kinda stood up Tenya but he’s probably with the others having fun. Meanwhile, at the viewing area, Iida was pushing through the crowd looking for Palma.

“Iida-kun! it’s this way to the stands!” yelled Uraraka over the sound of the fireworks.

“Ita?! Ita?! where are you?” Iida yelled not hearing the people around him as he pushed around.

I sell my last bread and drink as the fireworks finished and I just started to clean up. I felt terrible and wallowed in my shitty-ness over this, even though deep down I know this ain’t shit to stress over and I’m just feeling the ruined fantasy. As I took down my signs, I heard somebody approach me.

“Hey”

“Oh hi Shinso” I said turning around to face him “how was the show? I couldn’t see them.”

“They were cool but I was going to say that you weren’t there” he said fixing his jacket sleeve “I would’ve enjoyed your company.”

I visibly blushed and let out a sad sigh “That makes me feel terrible, I wanted to join you and the others.”

“Well, the festival isn’t done yet” he tried to say to keep his cool “would you like to look around, with me?”

“I’m down, just let me finish here and I’ll be ready.”

After turning in my makings to the coordinator I joined Shinso for a nice time and it made me feel better. I didn’t see Iida nor got a text from them and I just thought he was having alot of fun with the others. At the end of the festival, Shinso walks me to my car and said our goodbyes. On the drive to the dorm I was like shit, now I have a crush on him! It can’t be so bad right? I get to my room and see everyone is pretty much either in the rooms asleep or not here yet. I took a well deserved bath in the dim lights and just tried to just relax but then the crackheads bust in for real bro hours in the dark, I listen in trying not to give myself away.

“Poor Iida, lost his chance” sighed Kirishima

“I don’t know how all this could’ve been avoided if he just sent her a text.” growled Bakugo

“but did you see that one chick confessing to him and he straight up was like ‘sorry, please move out of the way I am trying to find someone’ and moved them aside!” snickered Mineta 

“I saw Palma-san walking around the grounds with that general ed student Shinso” Kaminari said gassing up the situation “looks like theres new competitor in the race to win her heart.”

I sit there in the tub thinking, they keep saying he likes me but I’m not convinced completely. Well, Shinso is kinda hot and nice to me, I wouldn’t mind being his girlfriend if he asked. And Tenya, he’s clean cut and gentlemanly, he’s ideal but he’s not convincing me that he wants to be more than just friends. Whatever happens, happens! I’m not letting some boys ruin me and my education. They leave and I emerge from my bath to dry off and teleport to my room. I change and walk toward the kitchen because a bitch thirsty and kinda hungry, then I see Iida hunched over the counter.

“Um hey Tenya”

“hmmm? OH Ita” he said as he stood up straight “I didn’t know you came back before me.”

“yeah, I sold out right when the fireworks ended” I said as I walked to the fridge “sorry I kinda stood you up like that, I feel terrible.”

“No! don’t be! I know you couldn’t leave until then so its ok.”

“But what was the thing you wanted to tell me?” I asked as I poured myself water “I really want to know, it sounded important.”

“Oh um I wanted to ask if...umm” he started and got nervous “if you wanted to uhhh be my, my.... my english tutor!”

“English tutor? thats it?” I questioned almost disappointedly.

“Yes! my english tutor and in exchange I can tutor you in math” he said adding on to his lies “I thought maybe we could make a habit of studying together since you wanted to take school more seriously.”

“Oh ok sure, I’ll be your tutor” I said as I got some strawberries from the fridge “for a moment there you were going to say something else! like you liked me or something.”

I didn’t see his expression but it was silent screaming and frustration “hahaha noooo, we’re good friends and I wouldn’t bring up such a thing!”

I fully didn’t know what to say to all that as I was suspicious of everything and every one. We talked over a study schedule and said good night. I went to sleep not knowing the hell I just started and will endure for the next few years with this Iida and Shinso thing.

-End Chapter 12-

<Previous - Next>     

[cuddleswithphan]

Mending Ties & Tying Knots - Phanfic

DISCLAIMER: I know nothing about Dan’s actual family life, and this story is purely fictional.

PROMPT: Dan has to go back home for his brother’s graduation, and things still aren’t the best between him and his father. Phil tries to negotiate with Dan’s father the next morning.

TW: family drama, family problems

TAGS: angsty fluff(?), angst, implied smut, phan softness, i love soft kisses

A/N: This phanfic took me like two months to write so I hope you guys like it! lol

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“Wipe that fucking expression off your face before I slap it off!” His father screamed, his fist still on the table after pounding into the wooden surface. “Do you hear me, Daniel James?”

Dan tried his hardest to keep his expression neutral, erasing the fear from his eyes as best he could. About an hour before, he had begun explaining his equal attraction to men and women to his mother. She had listened, taking in every bit of information he tried telling her. Things were going well until his father came home. Now that his mother had relayed the information to him, things were about to take a drastic turn for the worse.

His father turned and walked slowly towards the dining chair Dan was sitting on. He leaned in close, speaking lowly. Dan could smell the alcohol on his breath. “Listen to me. Let me make myself perfectly clear. No son of mine will ever be seen holding hands with a man.” He pointed a finger right underneath Dan’s chin. “Is that understood?” His son nodded slowly. “Good. I’m going out again, Karen.”

His heavy footsteps shook the whole house as he walked out the back door. Dan fought back tears as he heard the door slam shut.

The train shook violently from side to side, jolting him awake. “You okay, bear?” A voice questioned. He turned to his left to see his boyfriend Phil sitting beside him, his phone in his hand. Dan was frozen, taking in his new surroundings before replying. “Yeah. Strange dream.” Phil smiled softly, giving the former a quick kiss to the temple before resting his head on the former’s shoulder.

Dan suddenly remembered why they were on this train ride. His brother was graduating college in a few days time, and his mother had insisted that he and Phil come stay with them for the few days leading up to it. He made a few notes in his head. Today’s Wednesday. Adrian is graduating Friday. We leave Saturday morning. That’s not too bad. It could be much worse. Mom could’ve insisted we stay the whole week. He shuddered slightly. He loved his family, of course, but the thought of having to deal with his unpredictable father for a whole week was enough for him to almost get off the next stop and wait for a train home. He has the support of Phil for these three nights they’ll be staying in his childhood home. That proves to be enough to put his mind at ease, and he finds himself slumping into the chair again.

The two boys arrived at their stop about twenty minutes after Dan was rudely awakened by his mind and the uneven tracks. After grabbing their bags and getting a cab, they arrived at their ultimate destination. From the outside, the Howell house didn’t look particularly unordinary compared to the neighbor’s houses. As they walked up the steep driveway, duffle bags in hand, Dan stopped to look at the old minivan that his mother had held onto since her sons were little. The silver vehicle was parked next to a much newer SUV, painted black and with much less rust. He wondered why his mother still paid insurance for the “old rust-bucket”, as him and his brother called it.

“Daniel! Phil!” He heard a familiar voice call. He turned his head towards the front door to greet his mother, who was already walking swiftly towards him with open arms. “Hi, mom.” They hugged for a short while. “It’s so good to see you, love.” She turned to the other boy. “Hi, Phil!” “Hi, Karen! How are you?” “Fine, thank you. It’s so lovely to see you both!” Phil smiled. “Lovely to see you, too.”

The conversation was interrupted by the sound of a small dog barking, and of another familiar voice following it. “Oi! Colin, hush.” Adrian exclaimed, walking outside with the fluffy animal in his arms. He grinned at Dan and Phil, reaching out his one free arm to hug his brother. “What’s up, nerd?” Dan teased. “Not much, dork.” Colin wiggled excitedly in Adrian’s grasp, sticking out his tongue and attempting to escape. “Hey, Colin! Hey buddy!” Dan leaned in closer to let the dog lick his face a few times before Adrian set Colin down. The dog almost immediately put his paws on the bottom of Dan’s skinny jeans and tried to jump higher. While Dan was preoccupied with the dog, Adrian had gone over to greet Phil, and they were now casually chatting with his mother in a small group.

Dan always felt it heartwarming to see Phil bond with his family. Phil meant so much to him, and truly felt like a part of his family now. We’re not even married yet, but it sort of feels like we are. He thought.

Adrian whistled for Colin to come to him, scooping him up in his arms again. “Come on, guys. Let’s go inside.” Dan almost forgot his duffle bag on the pavement, grabbing the strap before following everyone else indoors.

The smell of a slow-cooked dinner permeated throughout the living room. “Chili?” Dan questioned. His mother nodded proudly. “I figured we haven’t had it as a family for a while, so why not make it today?” She glanced up the carpeted staircase. “I tidied your room a bit for you, Daniel. Changed the sheets as well, because God knows how long those same sheets were on your bed.” Both boys chuckled. “Thanks, mom. You didn’t have to do that.” She placed a gentle hand on her son’s shoulder. “Trust me, I did.” She let out a soft chuckle herself before placing a gentle kiss to her son’s forehead and walking back into the kitchen to tend to the chili.

Dan and Phil dragged their bags upstairs and into Dan’s freshly-tidied room. He could hardly recognize his bed. It almost looked like his mother had bought new sheets just for this occasion. He threw his duffle bag onto the bed before letting out a deep sigh. “Feels really weird to be back in this room.” “Yeah.” Phil responded. “Last time we were here was like… 2012.” The older man padded over to his boyfriend before sliding behind him and wrapping his arms around the younger man’s waist.

“Hey bear?” “Hmm?” Their voices were barely audible. “Are you gonna be okay for these next few days?” Dan was silent for a moment, searching his lover’s eyes for the sense of comfort he needed. He nodded. “Yeah?” Phil confirmed. The other boy nodded again. “Well, just let me know if you’re having some trouble. Just because we’re away from the flat doesn’t mean I’m not here to talk.” Dan smiled softly, but Phil could see the worry in his chocolate eyes. “I mean, maybe I won’t even have to see my father until Friday.” Dan added, his voice hopeful. Phil shrugged. “Maybe.” Their lips connected for a moment before they decided to head back downstairs.

“Ah, shit.”

“Adrian! Language, please.” Karen called from the kitchen. Phil grinned as he noticed what Dan’s brother had on the TV. “Adrian, is that the new Crash Bandicoot?” “Yeah! You wanna play?” Dan laughed. “Trust me. He wants to play, even though he hasn’t left our sofa for days on end from this game.” Adrian handed Phil the other controller, and before Dan knew it, the two of them were lost in a new level right before his eyes. “Been having trouble with this one.” His brother muttered.

Dan wandered into the kitchen where his mother was stirring a large steaming pot. “How have you been, love?” She asked, putting the wooden spoon on the counter. “Fine.” He replied shortly. “That’s good.” She brushed the curls out of his eyes. “I’m glad you’ve embraced your natural hair. It suits you.” Dan smiled. “Your father will be pleased. I don’t think he really liked it when you straightened it a lot.” Her son shrugged sadly. “It doesn’t take much for me to disappoint him, does it?”

“Well no, Daniel. I didn’t mean that.”

“I know what you meant, mom. It’s okay.”

The two of them said nothing for a moment. Karen cleared her throat. “I haven’t seen him since Monday night. I’m getting a bit worried.” Dan was staring at the old tile floor.

“He’ll come back.” There was another long pause.

She looked up at her son. “It really is good to see you and Phil here, love.” She pulled him into a hug, sighing. “My boy. I love you so much.” “I love you too.” When they separated, she reached on to squeeze his cheek and smiled. “Remember when you were little, I used to squeeze your dimples?” Dan chuckled. “Yep. I remember.” They heard footsteps.

Phil came spinning into the kitchen, a grin plastered on his face. “Guess who just beat your brother at a round of Bandicoot?” Dan laughed. “I’m guessing you?”

“You know it, baby!”

The younger man sighed, but with a fondness to his expression. Adrian soon joined them in the kitchen. “Guess losing at Crash Bandicoot runs in the family!” Phil teased. “You wanna bet?” Adrian replied, putting on his best intimidating face. “Yeah, I do.” Both Dan and Karen rolled their eyes at the pair. “Well, maybe after dinner. The chili’s almost ready.” She said.

“Dan, would you grab some bowls for everyone?” He nodded. “I’ll help!” Phil exclaimed excitedly. “Where are the utensils?” Adrian opened the utensil drawer before grabbing enough cups for everyone. His mother tapped him on the shoulder. “Will you be sure there’s enough chairs for everyone as well?” “Mhm!”

They were all soon sitting at the dining room table, the pot of chili steaming gently. “It smells so good!” Phil said, licking his lips. “Well thank you, Phil. I hope you like it.” Karen responded.

Suddenly, Colin started barking and ran towards the front door. “Oi! Colin! Cut it out!” Adrian called. The dog didn’t stop. “Just start without me, guys. I’ll take him outside.” “We’ll wait for you, love.” His mother replied. Adrian walked to the living room to peer out the window. He gasped.

“Mom! Dad’s home.”

Dan’s breath hitched, his shoulders visibly tensing up. Karen stood up to confirm what Adrian was seeing as Phil placed a gentle hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder. He whispered, almost inaudibly. “Just relax, bear. It’s okay. I’m right here.” Dan appeared to be reassured by Phil’s words, but there was still a bit of fear on his features.

The front door creaked open, and the recognizable deep voice of his father boomed throughout the house. ”Hello, wonderful family!” His footsteps were loud and heavy. Dan tried to practice a relaxed demeanor, but Phil could see that his left hand, which was on the table, was shaking. He grabbed his lover’s right hand from underneath the table, holding it tightly and rubbing his thumb across Dan’s hand in a semicircular motion.

His tall, heavyset father appeared in the entranceway to the dining room. “Mr. Phil Lester! Good to see you! How are ya?”

“Hello, Mr. Howell. I’ve been well, thank you.”

There was silence. Dan’s father eyed him up and down. “Daniel.” Dan had to swallow to speak. “Hello, Dad.” He found a spot at the table without saying another word.

“Karen, this chili smells wonderful!” It was after he said this that Dan noticed his mother and brother were having a whispered conversation in the other room, their expressions serious. His father rolled his eyes after not receiving a response. “Karen!”

“Ah, yes! The chili!” His mother chirped, her expression suddenly shifting. “Everyone, please help yourselves!” Her and Adrian walked back into the dining room together as she kissed the top of her husband’s head. Dan felt Phil’s grasp loosen, and he began to panic slightly. Phil, please don’t. Don’t let go.

A very strange phenomenon was going through Dan’s brain. It was almost as if he was beginning to reconstruct the emotional walls that had been torn down with Phil. His expression grew colder. His eyes lost their shimmer for a moment. For now, he was in the same low place he was when he was seventeen. He was most likely going to stay that way until they went back home, or at least until his brother’s graduation.

Once everyone was eating their serving of chili, Dan’s father gestured with his spoon over to his younger son. “You excited to graduate in a few days, son?” Adrian smiled softly. “Yes, dad! Very excited.”

“Good, good. You should be.” There was a pause as he glanced over to his older son.

“It’s good to see I have a son who will graduate university.”

Dan swallowed hard. The unchewed mouthful of chili burned his throat, but he didn’t care. He could feel his father’s piercing eyes, a color identical to his but the whites far more bloodshot, staring him down in disappointment. It’s been eight years since I dropped my law degree. Dan thought. Can’t he just get over it?

“Dan and Phil have been quite busy as well.” His mother interjected. “You boys just moved into a new place, didn’t you?”

Phil smiled brightly. “Yes! We’re very happy there. It’s a nice large, open concept flat with a lot of interesting features. You guys should visit sometime!” Hearing his boyfriend getting so excited about their new flat brought a soft smile to Dan’s face. “We’ve each got our own filming spaces disguised as bedrooms and then we share the master, obviously.” The younger man’s father chuckled to himself.

“Why do you feel the need to do that, Phil?”

“Do what?”

“Have video backgrounds separate from your actual bedroom. I mean, haven’t you guys been filming videos in your bedrooms for years now?”

“Tim.” Karen whispered, her glance at her husband reading a disapproving expression.

“I’m just asking a simple question, darling.”

“It’s alright, Karen. I can answer that.” Phil began. “We’re planning to keep this apartment a bit more private. It’s not a forever home, and we don’t really want our audience to get too attached to it only for us to move again. Plus, erm, we haven’t told them about our relationship yet.”

Tim laughed again. “Oh, it’s always that same relationship answer. What’s the huge deal with telling them? I mean, you don’t see Karen and I being all secretive with our marriage. If you...LGBT people want the same rights as us, why not just flaunt your relationship with ease?”

Dan could see a bit of discomfort start to show on Phil’s features. “Well, it’s not quite that simple. We’d have to figure out a way to tell them without putting a label…”

“Can we change the subject please?” Dan’s voice interceded the rest of his boyfriend’s sentence. His voice was a bit louder than he anticipated, and the erratically changing pitch in his words revealed his now obvious discomfort with the subject.

Tim rolled his eyes. “Yes, of course, Daniel. Because everything has to come back to you, doesn’t it?” His mother’s expression grew more frustrated with each word leaving her husband’s mouth. “Tim! Enough, please.” Dan suddenly didn’t feel hungry anymore.

The rest of the meal was mostly silent besides a conversation between Adrian and Karen about graduation.

After the conversations had fallen silent, they all cleaned up their plates in the kitchen before Dan and Phil retreated to Dan’s childhood bedroom. Phil shut the door quietly behind them, making a soft tapping sound as he tried to close it without raising suspicion from Dan’s family.

Dan sat down on his old, squeaky mattress, letting out a sigh as he stared down at his fingers. Phil, who was standing up beside the bed, smiled fondly and sympathetically. “You okay, bear?” His boyfriend nodded his head slightly. Dan wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh about the exchange at dinner or cry about it. Rather than doing either of those things, he stared out the window, the darkness of the night mesmerizing him.

Phil couldn’t help but notice how stunning Dan looked in this moment. The soft orange glow of the lamp in front of him highlighted his jaw and his cheeks. He realized he was staring when Dan eyed him playfully.

“What?” The younger man was grinning now.

“Nothing.”

Dan giggled at Phil’s reaction to being put on the spot. “No I mean, it’s just… You look really pretty right now.” Dan sighed. “You do too, Phil.” The older man glanced behind him to the bedroom door, which was still closed. He could hear Karen and Adrian laughing and chatting from downstairs. He listened for the sound of Dan’s father, but there was no sign of him. Perhaps he had gone out again. When Phil turned back around, he noticed that his boyfriend was eyeing him hungrily, a gentle smirk on his face. “Go ahead, Phil. I know what you’re thinking.” Dan’s palms were now propping him up on the bed, his legs crossed and hanging over the side of it.

Shit. He looks so good.

It was Phil’s turn to grin. “Stop being so damn pretty, Dan Howell.”

“Oh yeah?” Dan teased. “What are you gonna do if I don’t stop?”

Phil stepped closer towards him. “Do you want to find out?”

Both boys said nothing for a lingering moment. Phil was now getting unbearably close to Dan, leaning in to kiss him. Dan’s cheeky smirk was going away as his expression became more lustful.

“Yeah.” He replied, his response barely audible.

Their lips connected gently, Phil slowly grabbing onto Dan’s jaw as the other boy grabbed the back of Phil’s head. Their mouths moved in perfect synchronization, parting and reconnecting with soft smacking noises. Dan wanted so desperately to pull Phil onto the bed and forget about his anxiety for a while. He wanted to forget about the fact that his father would never accept his sexuality, let alone his relationship. Phil eventually pushed Dan down on the bed, allowing his body to hover over the other’s.

The kisses were getting heated, and a sudden fear popped up into his mind. He tried to get his boyfriend’s attention by nudging his shoulder softly. “Nnnnf… Dan.” Their lips parted, the younger’s breathing already audible. “Are you… are you okay with this? You know, with us being in your parent’s house and everything?”

Dan nodded. “Yeah, of course I am. Phil, we’ve literally had sex in so many places. It hardly phases me anymore.” He chuckled, thinking about that one time they snuck off into a janitor’s closet at BBC Radio when the tension became too much. His expression became more serious as he noticed Phil’s worried one. They both sat up to continue the conversation.

“It seems like you’re not, though.” He tenderly brushed a stray lock of black hair away from Phil’s forehead.

Phil sighed. “It’s just… your dad.”

Dan’s shoulders shifted at the sudden and awkward change in subject. “You know, like what he said at dinner tonight. He’d never spoken to either of us like that in front of me before. I’d heard all the horror stories from you, but he’s always been so nice to me.”

The younger man again brushed that same pesky lock of hair away from the other’s face. “He’s worried that we’ll get married. I would imagine it’s hard for him to picture his son marrying another man. I don’t think he ever really took our relationship seriously up until now.” He paused for a moment to gaze into his lover’s eyes, almost with a hint of sympathy. “Eight years is a long time, Phil.” The two of them smiled fondly.

Phil, still very close to his lover after their romantic exchange, let his head rest on the other man’s shoulder. “Oh, Dan.” He felt a hand touch his back. “I love you.” Even after all this time, butterflies still flew inside the younger man’s stomach whenever he heard those words. “I love you, too.” They stayed in that position for a while until they moved to exchange a feather-light and lingering kiss. Phil smiled when they broke apart. “More of those, please.” He whispered.

“...Bear?”

He could see that Dan was laughing, but there was a certain sheen to his eyes that concerned him. “I don’t know…” He began. “I don’t know why I’m about to cry.” The younger man chuckled, but the chuckle soon turned into a sob as the two men embraced. They stayed silent for a while, Phil rubbing gentle circles on his back.

“I don’t want that bastard to take you away from me.”

“I promise I’m not going anywhere, love.”

“Really?”

“I promise with all my heart that you will always have me, regardless of what your father says. Besides, to quote a very reputable source, eight years is a long time.”

Phil could feel his boyfriend’s eyes rolling fondly without even looking at him.

They moved to face each other again, Phil running his thumbs in semicircles across Dan’s cheeks to dry them. Their lips connected again, that same addictive feather-light touch from before.

“So. What do you wanna do now? Do you want to get some sleep?”

“I kind of just want you to kiss me for a while.” Dan replied.

“I can do that.”

They exchanged another soft smile before connecting their lips again. Phil paused to ensure that the door was completely shut, and sure enough it made a soft click noise when he pushed on it. “Good call.” His boyfriend said. They allowed themselves to laugh full-heartedly in that moment, both imagining what could have happened if the door was left the way it was. Before either of them realized it, the heated kisses had returned, this time going a considerable amount further than before. Sighs turned into muffled gasps and moans, in between whispered praises and soft and slow movements.

As the rest of the family drifted off to sleep, Dan and Phil did as well, enjoying the closeness and the comfort of each other’s presence.

~

Phil woke up the next morning with a mission.

Shuffling through his suitcase, he dug out a fresh pair of clean pajamas, putting them on quietly in an effort not to stir a sleeping Dan. He looked himself over in the mirror to ensure no embarrassing love bites had formed and headed downstairs to greet his future in-laws.

Adrian was planted in front of the TV again, smashing away at the buttons on his controller. The scent of eggs and bacon wafted in from the kitchen, and surely enough, Karen had a sizzling skillet on the stove.

“Morning, Phil! Did you sleep well, dear?”

“Yes I did, thank you. Yourself?”

“Just fine.” She paused to grab some plates. “Breakfast will be ready soon. Is Dan still asleep?”

“I think he is, yeah.”

She shrugged. “I’ll go wake him when everything’s ready.”

Phil couldn’t help but wonder how long the scent of sex typically lingers in one room. He was also picturing the messiness of the sheets, a disheveled and most likely naked Dan being woken up by his unknowing mother...

“That’s okay.” He responded quickly. “I can wake him soon.”

“Alright. I’ll let you know when everything’s set. We’ll let him get his rest for now.” She smiled at him before returning her attention to the food.

Phil wandered back towards the stairs, searching not for his partner, but rather the person who led to his partner’s upset last night. He needed to do some negotiating with Tim.

Just as he was about to wait until later and wake up Dan, he passed a room with a white french door. Through the door appeared to be an office, with an old faux leather chair facing a computer desk. Sitting in the chair was none other than the man he was looking for. He knocked cautiously.

“Mr. Howell?”

Tim swung the chair around to confront the voice he had heard, but said nothing when he realized it was Phil.

“May I speak to you please, sir?”

He eyed Phil suspiciously, but nonetheless invited him in.

“Sure, Phil. Grab that chair right there. Have a seat, son.”

After Phil got accustomed to the squeaky wooden chair, he cleared his throat and worked up the courage to speak.

“I would like to talk to you about my relationship with your son.”

“Ah, of course.” Tim replied, a hint of annoyance in his voice. “What else would you need to talk to me about?”

“Well, I suppose this has to do more with you and I.”

“Oh? How so?”

Phil awkwardly glanced down at the floor, unsure as to how to bring this up carefully.

“I get the sense, sir… that you don’t want me to marry Dan.”

Tim scoffed. “Marriage? Nobody said anything about marriage last night. I didn’t say anything sour about you marrying my son, did I?”

“No, you did not. I just wanted to be sure that it would be alright with you if I married him at some point in the considerable future.”

There was a long pause while both of them tried to figure out what to say next. Tim seemed to be reflecting on something, his lips twisting around in thought.

“Listen, Phil. I’ll tell you one thing.” His voice was much lower and calmer than it had been before.

“When Daniel was born, I had this whole concept as to how his life would go. I figured he’d grow up, go to university, meet some pretty girl, get married and have a few kids of his own. First, he tells me that he likes men the same as women. This is an entirely new concept to me, something I’ve never heard of in my whole bloody life. I say ‘whatever, fine, he can do what he wants.”

Phil has to resist the urge to laugh sarcastically, knowing all of the stories Dan has told him.

“Then, he tells me he’s dropped out of law school. I say that he can do whatever he wants again. Then he tells me, ‘Oh, dad! I’ve met a cute boy online, you see. His name’s Phil.’ Now that’s everything I thought would happen in his life completely gone.”

There’s an awkward pause. Phil can’t help but start to feel like he’s not good enough again.

“Now, Phil. I don’t want you to get the wrong impression when I say that. I admire you as an individual quite a lot. You’re intelligent, you’ve got a good sense of humor and you know your rights from wrongs. You’ve supported Dan quite immensely from what I can tell. He’s the happiest I’ve ever seen him. In that aspect, I admire your relationship to my son. It’s just hard for me to comprehend.”

Phil nods slowly. “I understand.”

“Quite frankly, Phil, I understand if you two don’t invite me to your wedding.” He lets out a wheezing laugh. “I’ve put you both through hell, haven’t I?”

Phil shrugged. “The situation between you two hasn’t been the easiest for Dan, mentally speaking that is.” His expression showed no sign of amusement, unlike Tim’s.

“Oh yeah, I’m sure it hasn’t been.”

Yet another pause ensues. Phil hears the floorboards in Dan’s bedroom creak.

“I’ll tell you this much though, Phil. All I’ve ever wanted as a father is for my two boys to be happy. I want Dan and Adrian to live their lives to the fullest and have the best lives they possibly can. Even though I don’t agree with you and Dan’s way of life, I’ll be damned if I don’t see the happiness that he currently has… stick around for the rest of his life. He was such a sad teenager, and you gave him the happiness and confidence that he has. You gave him a reason to keep breathin’. You did a job that Karen and I couldn’t figure out how to do. For that, I have to thank you.”

Phil doesn’t know what to say besides, “It was my absolute pleasure, and most likely always will be.”

Tim chuckled.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Howell. I’ll be sure that all three of you get a future wedding invitation.”

The old man smiled a crooked smile. “I appreciate that, son.” He gave Phil a nod as the younger man stood.

“Thank you for your time.” Phil said.

“Always a pleasure, Mr. Lester.”

Phil slipped out of the office, walking across the hall and knocking softly on the door. “Bear? Are you awake?” “Yeah,” a voice replied. “I’ll be down in a minute. I can’t find my shirt.”

“Well, come on. The bacon’s gonna get cold.”

He heard a shuffling, then a sudden opening of the door. “Did you say bacon?” Phil giggled at the sight of his boyfriend; puffy sex hair, barely covered love bites and a backwards and stained black T-shirt. “I think the bacon’s gonna have to wait, bear.” He teased, pushing Dan back into the room to help fix him up.

Never before had Phil felt so much infatuation for Dan. Here was this goofy, adorable young man that he had fallen so hard for eight years ago. Even though it was safe to say there were some rough patches, their relationship had ceased to fail. Despite everything, they still managed to make it this far. Now that they had Dan’s entire family on their side, there was nothing stopping them. Who knows what would come next? Whatever it was, at least they knew that everything would turn out just fine.

[caffeineivore]

Yuan Fen, Part Next

Title: Yuan Fen

Ship: R/J AU

Notes: Yuan Fen: Fateful coincidence; destiny which brings two people’s lives together at some point, often through astronomical odds. “It takes hundreds of rebirths to bring two persons to ride in the same boat; it takes a thousand eons to bring two persons to share the same pillow.” A concept related to karma in Chinese Buddism.

Rating: PG/PG13

In which we learn a little more about J and his past, at long last. And we finally invoke the title of the piece. We’re also past the halfway mark, in case anyone is wondering. (I think.)

Also, dude, I am just spitting this thing out. I don’t know what’s wrong. I mean, aside from my chronic insomnia. But, y’know, no rest for the wicked, right??

As a rule, most of the meals were included in the tour’s itinerary, and it seemed to Rachel that most people were quite happy to take advantage of this particular day’s evening meal-- not included in the tour-- to sample local eateries. But while there’s certainly something to be said for trying street food (Rachel personally considered herself quite the connoisseur of the New York City dollar slice, for example), this would be more easily done had she spoken the language better and not been traveling alone.

And so it is that as they were preparing to leave the last attraction of the day, she stops John before they quite reach the bus in the parking lot. She is quite aware that he’s gone above and beyond with her, personally taking her around all the sites for the last few weeks, and certainly in America her offer would not be considered inappropriate. 

“Hey, John?” By now, too, it seems completely normal for the two of them to call each other by their first names. They’re friends-- maybe not so close and familiar, and yet closer in a lot of ways than she’s wont to be with many people-- after all. “Would you like to go somewhere to dinner with me tonight? I really don’t know where or what to eat-- maybe you could give a few recommendations. And besides, it’s no fun to eat alone. My treat.”

He pauses, and bright blue eyes meet her violet ones. “Mmm, I would love to. Except, I have to be home right after we drop everyone off.”

“Oh.” Well, then. Rachel throws on cool indifference like a cloak. After all, she doesn’t know much at all about John Simmons’ personal life. Spending time with her while on the clock certainly didn’t preclude him from having a wife and a family and... belatedly, she realizes that she didn’t hear anything else that he was saying, and frowns. “Excuse me, say that one more time?”

That familiar grin crosses his face, but now it doesn’t quite meet his eyes, which seem almost nervous as they continue to gaze into hers. “I never actually do this, but... I would like to spend some more time with you, you see. If you wouldn’t think it’s too weird, you could come over for dinner. I don’t stay far.”

“Oh... are you sure?” This is certainly against protocol. But Rachel somehow finds herself shedding what she’d consider inherent New York suspicion, perhaps on impulse, but more likely on intuition. “Okay. If you’d like. And if you’ll get me back to the hotel after.” 

“Of course.” Now, as though they have a shared secret, they both ascend the bus, and Rachel finds herself smiling out the window at nothing in particular even as the other tourists get dropped off in groups at their respective hotels until she is the last one on the bus. 

John gives a few brief directions in Chinese to the bus driver, who laughs heartily and nods, and then the almost-empty vehicle heads out of the hotel district and into what appears to be a small cluster of houses on the outskirts of town. “Home sweet home,” John says with a courtly bow as the bus pulls to a stop in front of a modest frame house, built not too differently from the ancient abodes in old town, albeit on a much smaller scale. “Come on, follow me.”

**

Rachel isn’t quite sure what to expect as she follows John through a small yard planted with vegetables and in through a rickety door, but certainly it isn’t to see an old woman in blue homespun, her iron-gray hair in braids under a colourful kerchief, seated in a wheel-chair by a table. Another woman, perhaps in her mid-forties, is busily cooking dinner over an ancient stovetop, and looks up with a bit of surprise to see Rachel following John inside. 

John says something in Chinese to both, and the younger of the women smiles, replies even as she turns back to what seems to be gigantic pot of noodles, and John returns his attention to Rachel. 

“This is Ms Song, who is the caretaker, and it’s her evening off. She’s just finishing up cooking dinner, and then she will be going home.” His blue eyes land on the older woman, who has turned towards the sound of his voice and is beaming in his general direction. “I hired her to help take care of my former nanny here. Her name is Ms Xu, and she is almost blind now. Type 2 diabetes.” 

Rachel watches as John stoops down in front of the old woman, taking her hands in both of his, saying something low and soft with his golden head bent close to her gray one. Everything in his body language speaks to their bond-- it’s the sort of love between a mother and son. Feeling a bit at a loss and out of place, she simply stands and watches as the caretaker fills three bowls with something that almost looks like Vietnamese pho, with a cutting board in the middle of the table full of ready-sliced meats and vegetables and condiments, before hanging up her apron and taking her leave. 

“Here, take a seat. Make yourself comfortable. We picked a good day-- Ms Song made cross-bridge rice noodles. Do you want yours spicy or plain?”

Rachel decides on just a little bit of spice, and stirs in a dash of chili sauce into her bowl. John introduces her to his former nanny, who reaches over and brushes her fingers slowly and carefully over Rachel’s face as though trying to learn her features. It’s a gentle touch that brings a lump into her throat, and she makes herself smile so that the old woman can feel it. 

Ms Xu says something to John, and he laughs as he replies, then turns to Rachel. “She asks me if you’re as pretty as she thinks you are. I told her you’re even prettier than that.”

“Oh, hush,” Rachel turns to her noodles and adds ingredients at random. “So... she was your nanny?”

“Mm-hmm.” John fixes up the older woman’s noodles before attending to his own. “I told you that my father got transferred to China for work, yeah? He used to work at the Chinese consulate in Chicago, back in the day, before he got a promotion. It took us to Beijing. I actually spent most of my childhood and teenage years there, not here.” He watches to make sure Ms Xu is eating her meal, then turns back to Rachel with a wry smile. “You could say I’m originally a city boy just like you’re a city girl, mei nü.” Now, the term seems almost an endearment. 

“Oh? Then how did you end up here?” Certainly, a man of his linguistic skill set could be making quite a bit more money in some place like Beijing, or even America. 

“My parents were always busy, back then, when I was a child. They hired Ms Xu to take care of me. She was the one who gave me my Chinese name ‘Jiang’-- it means ‘river’. She used to pick me up from school, make dinner in the evenings, help me with my homework-- especially Chinese homework, take me to the zoo and other outings on the rare occasions when I was good... you name it,” John smiles a bit sadly. 

“She was the one who gave me the Guan Yin pendant, actually, back when I was still a boy. She’s a widow, and has no children of her own. She’d gone to Beijing to look for work, because there are better opportunities there. She’d always told me it was yuan fen that brought her and me together.”

“What does that mean?” The noodles are spicy and delicious, but Rachel barely pays attention to them. 

“I guess the best translation would be... predestination, the type which brings people into each other’s lives. They have a saying, which states that it takes a hundred rebirths before two people will ride the same boat, and a thousand eons before they share the same pillow. She didn’t have a son, and... when my parents ended up divorcing in my teens and my mom returned to America, I didn’t have a mother any more. But we had each other.”

Rachel’s mother, before she’d passed away from the leukemia, had made her husband promise to always let her own father stay at their home. Now, she wonders whether her mother had known, in her final days, how much her daughter needed that loving, steadfast person who’d always be there for her in her childhood. Rachel is dimly aware that there are tears rolling down her cheeks, but hopes that John can’t see them through the steam curling up from the bowls of noodles as he continues his story.

“Anyway, because I didn’t want to lose touch with my own mother altogether, I went back to the US for school. She’d remarried by then, and because she was happier, it made it easier to go home to her on weekends and holidays while I was at Northwestern. I do love her. But, a few years back, I got word that Ms Xu was ill. My father had let her go, obviously, after I went to college, but he’d set her up decently enough in a small apartment in Beijing, in gratitude for all the years she’d been with us. She wanted to come back to her hometown, though. She’d been born here, grown up here, gotten married here.”

“So you came back, for her,” Rachel murmurs. That type of bone-deep loyalty and devotion, built for years, would mean that he could do no less. “To take care of her. You got a job as a tour guide out here so that you could pay for her to have a caretaker, and so she’d not be alone.”

“Yes, to take care of her, as she took care of me, all those years,” John nods, then reaches across the table and brushes his fingertips lightly over her damp cheeks. “Don’t be sad for me, Rachel. I’m quite happy, really.”

“Are you?”

“Hey, I live in a place named after paradise, and get to spend my days taking walks under blue skies while meeting new people.” Perhaps to try to coax a smile out of her, he winks. “On occasion, I even get to have dinner with pretty, directionally-challenged girls from New York who are a lot sweeter than they’d probably like the world to think they are.”

“I am not sweet! Or directionally-challenged!”

“Mm-hmm,” John chuckles as he finishes his noodles. “It’s okay. I won’t tell anybody.”

They finish the meal soon after, and Rachel watches quietly as John washes the dishes, then helps his former nanny with her evening ablutions and insulin injection with what looks to be well-practiced ease. The diabetes had robbed the old woman of a great deal of her sight and her mobility, but when John helps her into her bed and tucks her in, her wrinkled face is content and serene. Rachel, feeling awkward and somewhat impulsive, takes that day’s flower wreath out of her hair and carefully untangles the stems until she has a small bouquet in her hands, and then fills a glass at the sink and puts the flowers in the middle of the table. At John’s glance, she tries to hide a fidget with a shrug. “Well, all women love flowers. Anyone who says they don’t is lying.”

“I bow to your superior knowledge and judgment. Come, let’s get you back to the hotel. I’ll call you a car. Like Uber, but Chinese.” 

He types something or another into his phone, then the two of them exit the house together. Outside, temperatures have dropped sharply since the afternoon, and Rachel shivers involuntarily for a moment before she feels John drape his jacket over her shoulders. It’s pale blue denim worn to cottony softness and reaches mid-thigh on her, and smells like herbal soap and Pu-Er tea. Off in the distance, she can see the headlights of the approaching “Chinese Uber” and turns back to look at John. 

“Thanks for dinner. And everything.” 

“You don’t need to thank me for anything,” John raises a hand and cups her cheek. “One could say that it was yuan fen which brought us together, too.” 

For a wild moment, Rachel thinks that he’s going to kiss her. And for an even wilder moment, she thinks that she just might have let him. But almost before that thought has a chance to flash through her mind, the car pulls up in front of them, and she clears her throat and steps back. 

“Good night, John. I’ll see you in the morning. I’ll bring your jacket back to you then.” And then, before she can second-guess herself, she steps into the car and shuts the door. She watches him stand there, watching her as the car drives her away.

[sophisticated-angel]

Family Ties - Part Four

Character: Dean Winchester

Warning: None

Word Count: 760

Part One - Part Two - Part Three

The Parent Trap

Summary: Mercedes persists in coming around, and while Dean may have decided to give her an inch, the reader hasn’t reached that point yet.

A/N: Heyyy guys, went a little AWOL there for a bit, went camping for Labor Day weekend. Anyway, I’ve got this for you, hope you enjoy!

Story

   Mercedes forms a pattern. She visits once a day after the kids get home school. Mitchell you can have do chores or homework in another room, but you can’t very well keep Ramona away from her. All you can do is supervise while they chat on the front porch – it feels wrong to have her in the house – Mercedes in her skinny jeans and braids or ponytails, Ramona in one of her new outfits. Thus far, she’s been perfectly well-behaved. Nothing she’s said or done shows that she’s a, well, a bitch. She’s not mother material, but she isn’t . . . bad.

   Maybe that’s why she bothers you so much. All the stories about the mother who abandoned her four-year-old daughter, who scarred a child for life, and Mercedes doesn’t fit that image. Hell, you expected a bleach blonde with fake eyelashes, a professional manicure, designer clothes, and an eye rolling disorder. What showed up was a rosy-cheeked, pleasant woman with outdated band shirts and an apology. You hate her with everything you’ve got, and you want her to give you an excuse to turn her inside out.

   Not until a week before school gets out does she come into the house again. It’s pouring rain outside, and you can’t exactly stop Ramona from pulling her inside. Dean’s covering a shift at the garage, so you have to deal with this alone. For Ramona’s sake, you don a smile and offer her something to drink.

   “Oh, um, just a water, if it’s a not a problem.”

   “No problem at all.” You mock her when you turn away.

   At least she leaves you alone. Her nervous glances and half smiles are annoying enough. She and Ramona play videogames for a while, then Mitchell joins them and bests them all at Mario Kart, and the living room descends into shrieks and giggles. It’s awful. Even Elodie, helping you prepare dinner from her high chair, keeps staring at the trio in front of the TV. After a time, Mercedes does approach you.

   “Dean’s recipe?” She gestures to the pot of chili cooking on the stove.

   “Yes. It is.”

   “He’s always been good in the kitchen. Passed that on to Ramona and taught you, I see.”

   “Yeah. I wasn’t much of a cook before he came along.”

   “I’m still not. It’s usually takeout and delivery for me. I’ve tried the chili recipe a hundred times, and I can never get it to turn out right.”

   “He says it’s all in the spices.” Turning to face her, you lean against the counter. “I can’t do it right even when he’s watching over his shoulder.”

   “Does he still do that thing with the spice bottles where he, like, juggles them?”

   “I actually think that’s one reason why it turns out better when he makes it.”

   “He enchants the spices or something.”

   “Exactly.”

   She laughs, and for a second you join her. Then you realize what you’re doing, reel yourself in, and scoop Ellie out of her chair for something to do. Mercedes doesn’t leave the kitchen.

   “So, um, how long were you and Dean married before you knew about Ellie – Elodie?”

   “About a month. We had a late honeymoon, and the moment we got home I puked. Took a test the next week and bam, pregnant.”

   “Isn’t morning sickness the worst?”

   “At least it’s temporary,”

   “But the mood swings, bloated feeling-”

   “-cramping, cravings-”

   “-you can never get comfortable-”

   “-and you always have to pee.” You take a second to remember it all. “I have been there twice now, and it was not easer the second time, but . . . nine months of suffering, it’s kind of worth it.”

   “Yeah.”

   You sigh and look down at Elodie. “Why am I talking to you about this?”

   “It happens to me a lot. I don’t know why.” She softens her smile. “I know you don’t like me, and I don’t blame you. I don’t really like me either. But I love Ramona, and I want to have a relationship with her. I’ve got eight years and a really bad exit to make up for, and I don’t expect it to be easy. The only thing I will ever ask of you is half a chance. That’s all I want. Please?”

   You say nothing. Mercedes nods and returns to Mario Kart and the kids who don’t know that their mothers don’t get along. When she gets ready to leave, however, you’ve had some time to think, and you pull her aside.

   “Half a chance. Don’t screw it up.”

READ PART FIVE HERE

@holahellohialoha @pureawesomeness001 @27bmm @jarpadandjensenaremyheroes @super-not-naturall @gabriel-themightysugaraddict @mogaruke @mrswhozeewhatsis ​@hexparker @kdfrqqg @little-castiel13 @18crazybutcutealsopsycho @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @mizzzpink

[onebrokegirlworld-blog]

The PERFECT rice recipe!

I will admit, there are a GAZILLION (is that a word??) recipes out there in books and on the information super highway touting themselves as having the easiest, best rice recipe.  From baking to microwaves to slow cookers, it’s all out there.  And I’m sure each home cook has their own go-to rice recipe.  Good on ya!  But if you are looking for an easy, sure-fire way to cook rice (college students, I’m looking straight at you), this is THE one!

Rice is a staple across the world. A starchy filler that extends the meal and is a perfect compliment, and essential item, to many dishes.  It’s cheap, filling, tasty and great for sopping up sauces.. mmmm. sauces... droool.

I got this recipe from an ancient Chinese master.  Not really.  More like I wandered into an Indian catering business one day and simply asked, teach me how to make a half decent pot of rice.  This recipe has never let me down. In fact when I was married, my ex never ate rice.  She said her Mom always made it soggy and tasteless.  It took a little coaxing but she tried MY rice and loved it!

Super simple, I like simplicity!  I use basmati rice. This south Asian staple is fragrant, holds it’s texture and reheats well.  Another favorite of mine is Jasmine rice, a lot sweeter but cooks exactly the same.  I know I know, white rice, it’s like white bread right? Full of empty calories.  Not true at all! Rice has tons of fibre and although the trend is towards brown rice, brown rice is hard to cook because you have to break down the husk through slow cooking.  And instant rice?  bleh!  No thanks, I’ll stick to my white rice thank you very much.

Ok enough blabbing.  This is a stove top method.  Doesn’t matter if you have a non-stick or regular pot, just something large enough to hold about 4 cups and has a tight fitting lid. k, two cups of rice, that’s all the measuring, we’re done with measures now, finito! I don’t bother with rinsing the rice, it doesn’t seem to make a difference with this method.  So again, a time saver, yay! 

Take that pot over to the sink and pour enough water to cover the rice by an inch.  It’s ok to eyeball it, it doesn’t have to be 100% accurate, just as long as around an inch.  Next, toss some salt in that pot.  I measure, again eyeball it, we’re not really measuring here, about a tablespoon of salt.  I just fill up my palm with what I think is a tablespoon.  Don’t judge me.  And then I’ll take a regular ol’ spoon and take a scoop of margarine or butter and plop that right in the pot.  There’s we’re prepped and ready to go. 

Start with the stove off.  Seriously. Put the pot on the stove, don’t worry about the lid right now.  Once on the stove, crank that burner up to high, don’t worry, we’re not going to burn this. Now don’t wander far at this point, because we’re looking for the rice to start to perculate.  You know, when we start to see little wells form in the rice where the water is bubbling through. Once you see those, turn the heat right off and pop on the lid.  That’s it folks.  Now leave that pot on the stove for however long you want, the heats off so nothing to worry about and because the heat’s off, it’s not going to overcook.  C’mon back in say, half an hour, now you can wander off and do what else needs to be done. 

Trust me, you will have fluffy NON SOGGY fragrant and tasty rice!  Once you have got it down, and it may take a few batches to get the jist of this, you can fool around with adding broth instead of water, spices like chili powder, adding veggies, cheese, garlic, anything!  Sky’s the limit!  And this stuff freezes well for up to three months.  it gets kinda gnarly after three months.

Anyways, I hope you enjoy!

-jenn <3