#especially a nice grilled cheese | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

caniruineverything · 10 months

Text

i wish i knew that someone out there cared (cared for me)

with klaus and ben, certified dumbasses

Summary: A newly alive Ben forgets how to take care of himself, and Klaus takes the opportunity to show his brother that he will help him out.

Ben wasn't quite sure how to be alive yet. To be honest, he wasn't quite sure how he was alive. To be fair, he and Klaus probably weren't the best people to ask to figure that out. They hadn't gotten around to asking Five to try his hand, as he was the generally-agreed-upon 'smart one', but he was busy, what with another impending apocalypse and all.

So yeah, even though he didn't know how it was even possible, Ben was well and truly alive. Like, breathing, heart-pumping alive. He got hungry, thirsty, tired, and all the other things he had been numb to for decades. He could touch things all the time now, not just when Klaus' power felt like being useful. To help him adjust to that particular fact, Klaus would often make sure he laid an arm on Ben or simply touched him somehow, just so he knew he was still alive.

It was comforting, really, to have one person always around, especially one who knows you almost better than you do yourself. Now they were able to properly do things together, at least out of the house this time, and Ben could talk to the rest of his siblings, both things he thought he would never be able to do again. Some things came back naturally to Ben, such as how he interacted with the very different people each of his siblings were.

Some things, however, did not. Namely, how to take care of a living body again, which needed things Ben had forgotten how to need. This particular day, it was hunger that he had forgotten about, a fact which came to bite him in the ass later.

Can you blame him, really? It wasn't like Ben had needed to eat as a ghost, making it around fifteen years since he had needed to regularly eat. That day, he simply forgot that without proper nutrition and sustenance, the human body couldn't function.

He'd been going about his day like normal- well as normal as someone who no longer was a ghost could be. Eating honestly hadn't occurred to him. There were so many things he needed to remember now, but had found it impossible to remember everything. He spent most of the day reading, if he was being honest, which might have been part of the problem. When he read, he tended to block out the rest of the world, forgetting at times that there even was a world outside of the words on the pages in front of him.

Klaus had left him mostly to his lonesome, knowing without even having to talk about it that Ben needed to be left alone sometimes. Ben found himself often grateful for the unspoken knowledge that they shared, and the wordless communication they had perfected throughout years of Ben not being visible to anyone apart from Klaus. The downside to this, however, was that no one was there to remind Ben to carry out basic, necessary actions such as eating.

He didn't do it on purpose, he swore, he just forgot. Fifteen (was it fifteen? He could never remember) years was a long time to not have to do something, and being thrust back into it, amongst many other things, unsuspectingly was disorienting to say the least.

It was 2 pm when Ben pulled away from his book, a nagging feeling telling him something was amiss. Why couldn't the nagging feeling ever tell you why you felt the way you did? You were just made to figure it out yourself, every time. Thanks, nagging feeling, thanks. He stood, ignoring the way the world spun a bit (maybe that was normal?), and wandered out to the kitchen.

He grabbed a glass and filled it with water, hoping drinking something would alleviate the instinct that something was wrong. He drank it down and stood there waiting for any change in the way he felt, which, now that he focused, he did feel a little shaky. When nothing changed, he moved to get more, ignoring the way black spots danced in front of his vision (probably another "alive thing"), and that's when disaster struck.

His legs shook, and he tried to steady himself in the counter, but then his knees gave way. The world spun around him, and blackness began to creep into the edges of his vision. Before the world went completely dark, he heard rapid footsteps and felt warmth surround him, thinking one last thought before he fell into the beckoning darkness: there was something I forgot, wasn't there.

Klaus had been minding his own business, the way he usually did. He was good at that, mind you, unlike a certain no-longer-ghostly brother of his. But while Ben did not offer him the luxury of being alone often, Klaus decided to allow his recently flesh and blood brother a while by himself. He regretted that later.

In his defense, Kaus barely knew how to take care of himself, let alone another person. Hell, he'd died like fifty times on his own, although lucky for him, it never stuck. So forgive him if he wasn't exactly a natural at helping Ben take care of himself.

He had been ecstatic when he and Ben noticed the latter was alive again, of course he was. It was something he had wanted since that fateful day when Ben had bled out on the ground, while Klaus and his siblings could do nothing but stand there, completely helpless. He never thought it would actually happen, and he still didn't know how it had happened.

So, no, he wasn't great at making sure Ben was doing all the things he needed to do in order to keep himself alive. He hadn't exactly been trying too hard, as it honestly hadn't occurred to him that Ben would forget to do things that were obvious to Klaus, who hadn't been dead for long enough to forget them. Looking back on that day, though, he guessed it had only been a matter of time before something like this occurred.

When he walked into the kitchen for a two o'clock snack, he was genuinely surprised to see Ben standing there, gripping a glass of water. It took him a moment to remember that, yeah, Ben was alive now, and had to drink water. Klaus stood in the doorway, not sure why he was hesitating, as Ben set the glass gently down on the counter.

When his brother moved again, however, Klaus knew something was wrong. He tried to figure out what, exactly, had gun feeling anxious, when Ben stumbled. The Asian man gripped at the counter (for stability?) and then his knees buckled. Klaus moved instinctually, catching his brother before the other could hit the floor.

"Oh, Ben. What did you do now ?" Klaus lamented, half to himself, as he set the unconscious figure down in his lap on the floor. Clearly, Klaus needed to observe his brother more, and not just leave him to his own devices, as this was how that turned out.

Klaus began to attempt to rouse Ben, shaking him and whispering to him. It took a few minutes, and the longer it took, the faster Klaus' heart began to race, because what if Ben was badly hurt? , but Ben started to awaken. The tiny noises he made as he came back to consciousness warmed Klaus' heart.

"Hey, Benny. Wanna tell me why you decided to take a swan dive in our kitchen today?"

"Whaaa? Oh, is that what happened?" His confusion made Klaus laugh in spite of himself.

"Yep. Came in here to get food, and had to prevent you from cracking your head open on these very nice, very hard tiles."

"I forgot to . . . do . . . something. Not sure what, though." Apparently, there was someone worse at taking care of oneself than Klaus. Yep, that award went to Ben, still in Klaus' lap on the floor due to forgetting to do something . Their answer as to what that something was, luckily, came quickly, in the form of Ben's stomach rumbling. Instead of the look of understanding Klaus expected to see in Ben's face, he paled, and began to look inexplicably afraid.

"Oh, god. Klaus, move. Move."

"Benny, why? You're just-" But Ben was not placated. He scrambled, however shakily, off of Klaus like his touch was burning. "Ben? What's wrong?"

"Th- The Horror." He didn't seem capable of uttering anything else, too afraid of his own body. Was The Horror part of Ben's body, or was it separa- Not the time, Klaus. Not. The. Time. Oh, Klaus realized, he hasn't felt that in so long, he thinks it's The Horror. His heart broke at the fearful look on Ben's face. He remembered how scared Ben had been when he was younger that he would hurt one of them. The only one of them who had been hurt was Ben- nope, not going there.

"Ben, hey. Look at me. That's not The Horror, you're just hungry. That tummy-rumbly thing, it happened to everyone. I'd reckon that's probably why you fainted; you didn't eat enough." Before this, Klaus hadn't realized how soft and tender his voice could be. Ben brought out sides of him that he hadn't known were inside him.

"Are you- are you sure?" The hesitance in Ben's voice shattered Klaus's heart again. God, he'd been terrified The Horror would hurt Klaus.

"Yes. Now, let's get some food in you, yeah?"

"Yeah." Ben's voice was still shaky, but it was less scared, which Klaus was going to count as a win. Now, what to make. It wasn't as if Klaus was going to force Ben to make his own food, not after he'd fainted and been scared half to death. (Too soon? He would really need to stop using expressions centered around death. Too bad there were so many of them.) And Ben should have homemade food, to show him that there was someone who cared. Ah, yes!

"Sit down, silly. Standing can't be fun after that." Ben looked down at a stool in front of the counter, as if the idea of sitting down hadn't even occurred to him.

"But, food." He looked so confused again, though this time, it was because he hadn't thought someone else would want to help him.

"I'll make you food. How does a grilled cheese sound? Those always make everything better." At this, Ben shot him a hesitant yet sweet smile, which made everything worth it. Plus, it wasn't as if making a grilled cheese was hard. Especially for Klaus, who had made thousands of them during his time on his own. Ben knew this, and while Klaus knew he had always wanted to be able to eat one, he had never said anything. Ben, always one to take care of others before himself. Leading to today, he guessed.

The familiar sounds of the sandwiches sizzling and of Ben laughing at Klaus' dramatic flourishes he added while cooking helped put them both in a happier mood. Klaus' favorite part, however, was the look on Ben's face when he bit into the grilled cheese sitting on the plate in front of him. Unlike Klaus, he had the intelligence to wait until it had cooled a bit, though he did still laugh when Klaus let out a yelp as the moment cheese burnt the roof of his mouth.

A look of pure bliss came over Ben as he ate the sandwich, and Klaus felt perfectly content, with a happy brother and a plate full of cheese and bread. Now Ben knew that there would always be someone there for him, and Klaus had his brother alive right in front of him. What more could he want?

#umbrella academy #klaus hargreeves #ben hargreeves #umbrella ben #fainting #food just makes everything better #especially a nice grilled cheese

2 notes · View notes

w0lf-is-in-your-basement · 1 month

Text

#this song is like grilled cheese. its very nice to listen to especially after a long day dealing with other peoples bullshit #metal #tornado #equilibrium #music #i really like this song #idk how to tag this #Spotify

0 notes

seaslugfanclub · 25 days

Note

What is readers reputation amongst the heroes in the disney park?

(Y/N) Interactions with Disney Heroes

—————————————

The whole point about the “good guys” is that’s what they are, all the Disney protagonists are genuinely nice characters

Sure most of the characters are more so acquaintances with (Y/N), but the rare times our park attendant supervises them it’s always pleasant

Many hero’s are happy someone else is dealing with their villains that’s not them.

Some characters are actually good friends with (Y/N)

I’ve previously stated before, Robin Hood and (Y/N) love to hang out with each other, I head-cannon (Y/N) organizing a “fox only club” where they get all the Disney foxes together to hang out

Imagine Robin Hood, Nick Wilde, and Honest John all playing cards together (they’re all cheating)

(Y/N) has had to babysit Pinocchio a few times

Imagine the Villains walking into the common room and seeing (Y/N) making Pinocchio a grilled cheese

Villains: The fuck is that?

*(Y/N) cutting the crust off Pinocchios sandwich*: it’s a baby

Villains: I know it’s a baby- the hell is it doing here!?

(Y/N) has a harder time getting along with the princesses. More so a conflict of personality’s

I mean, why would (Y/N) be friends with a bunch of teenagers?

Aurora’s chill though, (Y/N) enjoys her quiet personality

(Y/N) is also super gentle with Snow White, many people forget the girls only 14.

The only hero (Y/N) truly has any beef with is Peter Pan, that child’s a menace

Especially after seeing how cruel he is to Hook, some of that resentment rubbed off on (Y/N)

—————————————

*Prince Naveen, talking about Tianna*: She’s not just my girlfriend, she’s my best friend

(Y/N): Oh my— *Gagging*

Geppetto: What did (Y/N) get you?

Pinocchio: A knife!

Geppetto: NO—

Robin Hood: Hello there (Y/N)! It’s so nice to be here at Disney!

(Y/N): I want you

Robin Hood:.. what?

#disney villains #self insert #disney imagine #disney x reader #captain hook #disney princess #pinocchio #the princess and the frog #sleeping beauty #disney robin hood

168 notes · View notes

cameronspecial · 8 months

Text

I'm Here

Pairing: Dad!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: N/A

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.7K

Summary: Taking care of kids can be stressful, especially when running on low sleep. Good thing Rafe is a supportive husband.

Masterlist

Y/N had been home all day with three-year-old Mila and newborn Parker. It had been a stressful day for the mother with the former refusing to eat anything her mother made and the latter refusing to stop crying her little head off. She is on the verge of crying and she wants to call Rafe for backup, but she knows he has important meetings today. “How about a nice plate of dumplings? Mommy can order some,” Y/N offers her three-year-old. Mila shakes her head defiantly and crosses her arms, “NO!” The shout triggers her younger sister into another round of screaming. Y/N squeezes her eyes shut and rounds the corner to go pick up her crying daughter. “Mila, please don’t shout around Parker. You know it upsets her,” she chides her eldest. This causes Mila to start her own crying and this stresses Y/N out even more. The mother starts bouncing the baby up and down to see if it will calm her.

At that moment, Rafe enters through the front door wearing his dress shirt with the sleeves buttoned up his forearm, his tie untied and hanging from his neck, and in black dress pants. His hair is devilishly run through by his fingers. This sexy business look is the reason why Parker was born. Y/N can’t admire her husband’s handsomeness because the newborn baby in her arms starts wiggling like crazy. Y/N’s face contorts to stress, which doesn’t go unnoticed by Rafe. “Are they going through another phase?” he asks, coming to give her a kiss. Y/N relishes in the feeling of his lips, “Yes. One doesn’t want to eat anything and the other won’t stop crying. I don’t know what is going on.” Tears start to swell in her eyes as her frustration starts to creep to the surface. Rafe sits beside her on the couch and gives her back a reassuring rub. He places a kiss on her temple and takes Parker into his arms.

“It’s okay, I’m here. Why don’t you let me take care of the kids? I know you can handle it, but I also know you didn’t get a lot of sleep last night because you were taking care of Parker so that I could get to work on time. I am very grateful for that, so why don’t you take a nap while I take care of the kids,” he suggests, walking over to Mila and placing her on her chair at the table. Y/N closes her eyes and takes a small nap. When she wakes up, she can’t help but notice the silence and gush at the sight before her. Rafe is in the kitchen cutting strawberries into a star shape. Every few cuts, he would move Parker’s bassinet back and forward. Once all of the strawberries are cut, Rafe moves on to flipping the grilled cheeses on the stove. He plates the sandwiches and cuts them into a heart shape. He makes sure to eat any of the excess food so it doesn’t go to waste.

He puts the strawberries onto the plate next to the sandwich and adds some square-shaped cucumbers too. He takes one plate over to Mila, who is watching Bluey while she patiently waits for her food, and brings the other one over to his wife. He checks over his shoulder to make sure that Mila is eating her food and gives Y/N a kiss on the lips. “I know you haven’t eaten, so please eat,” he whispers against her lips. Y/N gives him a relieved smile and takes the plate into her hands, “Thank you. How did you get Mila to eat and Parker to stop crying?” Rafe sits beside her and brings her onto his lap. “It took some bargaining to get Mila to eat. She would eat whatever I made her if I cut it into a pretty shape. And to get Parker to stop crying, I found blankie and it made her stop crying,” he tells her.

Y/N ahh’s in understanding as to what she did wrong. She doesn’t feel like a bad parent for forgetting those details about her daughters, she knows her tiredness was the reason behind it. She is just thankful that Rafe was there to help support her.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x y/n #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks imagine #rafe x reader #rafe obx #outerbanks rafe #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron x you #dad!rafe cameron #dad!rafe #rafe cameron blurb

740 notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 6 months

Text

Same as it ever was 6

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as neglect, bullying, manipulation, cheating, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Between your home life and work, you just can’t catch a break. Especially after you draw the ire of your boss.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen ft. Pete Brenner

Note: have a happy friday.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Sunday gives you an excuse to get away. Pete, like a dog with his tail between his legs, doesn't even try to come up with an excuse to 'work'. You take Simone with you to the grocery store, warning the slug that he can handle Malik for a couple hours alone. You notice the pout in his lips but don't acknowledge it.

You don't need much but you take your time. You agree to buy Simone an Archie comic, shrugging off the extra few dollars as you notice her growing restless. You made her leave her book at home. You're happy she loves to read but she can't ignore the world all the time.

"You wanna get lunch?" You ask as you push the cart through the lot.

"Mm, I dunno," she drags her feet, "I'm tired."

"Probably 'cause you need to eat," you judge her with your elbow, "come on, how often is it just the two of us."

She grumbles but you ignore her reluctance. You're in no hurry to get home and you can scrounge enough for a sit down in the diner. It might be the last nice thing you can afford.

You load up the bags on the trunk and drive down the block to the same place you would take Simon when you were still pregnant with Malik. Those days were nice and so far behind you. The memory makes your heart ache.

You open the door ahead of Simone and follow her into the mom and pop shop. You're seated by the window in a booth. You order coffee as your daughter gets an apple juice. You peruse the menu but you're not very hungry.

"Oh, they still have the grilled cheese," you say.

"Yeah…" she continues to read the menu, nonplussed by your suggestion.

You tap your toe and cup your chin as you look out the window. It's a nice day even if you're gloomy inside. You turn back to the table and flip over the menu.

The waitress returns with your drinks. You sip your coffee before you order a mac and cheese and Simone gets chicken fingers. You hand the menus over and smile at your daughter. She's old enough, she'll catch on soon.

"So, what's your latest adventure about?" You ask.

"Uh, well, I just read one about a knight. She's a girl and she goes off to fight an army of trolls…"

You immerse yourself in her retelling of the children's novel. You don't care, it's better than reality. You giggle and smile as she becomes more animated. She can be so monotone but her passion makes you proud.

A figure approaches, breaking your trance, and you look over expecting the waitress. To your chagrin, it's not.

You grip the edge of the table as Simone's voice peters out and she looks at the man with her cool deadpan. You clear your throat, fighting the urge to reach across and shield her. Mr. Hansen smirks down at you as he glances between you and your daughter.

"Funny running into you here," he snickers, "enjoying your weekend."

"Just having lunch," you say crisply, "hope you're having a good Sunday."

You turn straight on the bench and look at Simone as you gesture for her to face you. She frowns as you try to come up with an escape plan. You don't even know what to say and he's not going anywhere.

"Oh I'm having a wonderful weekend. Look at you, how cute, this must be the spawn."

"Spawn?" Simone murmurs, "hey, what's your deal, guy?"

"Sim," you wave her off, "that's good to hear Mr. Hansen. I hate to keep you so–"

"Room for one more?" He winks.

"Ew, no," Simone speaks before you can, "mom, tell him to go away."

"She's mouthy. Not hard to guess why," he scoffs.

You slide off the seat and stand, stepping between him and the table. You arch a brow, pleading with your hands out.

"Please, sir, we're just enjoying a meal out. I'll see you tomorrow. At work."

He watches you, his amusement playing on his face. He's enjoying seeing you squirm, just like before. He always knows the most sensitive spot to hit. Your kids would be top of the list.

"Tomorrow," he winks as he leans back on his heel, "we got a special meeting, don't we?"

"Sir," you hiss.

He chuckles and rolls his eyes, "alright, ladies, enjoy your lunch."

He backs up and struts away. You don't sit until he's out the door. What on earth is he even doing in a place like this? It's not exactly a Michelin star experience.

You settle back in and swallow, turning to watch out the window. He isn't in his usual suit but still dressed nicely. A peach polo peeking out under a teal bomber jacket and canary pants. Tacky if you say so yourself.

"Who was that weirdo?" Simone asks.

"My boss," you lean back, "just saying hi."

"He's strange. Like the villain in the book I was reading," she scowls out the window, "you need a new job."

You laugh despite yourself, "you have no idea. First things first, I'm starving."

🗄️

You get home, exhausted. You put away the groceries and tidy up. Of course Pete couldn't clean up after making a mess of the kitchen for a simple PB and J. You sigh as you finish and look in on the kids in the living room.

Malik colours as Simone creases her brow at her book. You hear Pete outside working on his Corvette. For a brand new car, it sure needs a lot of maintenance.

You tell the kids you'll be upstairs if they need anything. You go to the bedroom and open the closet. You're so anxious about tomorrow, you may as well get ready to face the music.

You pick out an outfit. Nothing special. You don't have anything fashionable. It's not like you need more than a striped blouse and worn black pants. You just don't want to come back up there to grab it all in the morning.

As you come downstairs, you hear Malik giggling. You peek in through the doorway with your armful of clothing. Pete sits on the floor at the coffee table beside the boy and scribbles with a crayon. He meets your eye as you pass and gives a sheepish smile. You shake your head and keep going.

You open the door to the basement and the cool air sweeps around your descent. You put the outfit on the folding table beside the camping cot. Your first few nights have been less than comfortable. As cozy as your own marriage.

You check the dryer and take out the towels, folding them on the top and stacking them there. You hear footsteps on the stairs. You keep your back to the airy space.

"Hey," Pete says. You're not surprised. He keeps trying to corner you. "So…"

"Busy," you grab a basket and set the towels in it.

"Hm," he stops only a few feet from you, "Simone said you ran into someone. Your boss."

"Yup. Nice guy," you utter dryly.

"I thought Mandy was your boss."

You roll your eyes as you lift the basket and turn, "one of many. She's up in York now."

"Ah…" he hangs his head, gripping one hip, "a lot's changed."

"I'm not in the mood to talk so let's not do this."

He huffs and steps into your path. He puts a hand on the basket. He looks you in the face.

"I will be home every day at six–"

"Too late."

"Please, can't I just try? Can't you?"

"Me? I tried, Pete," you snap, "come home at six anyway. The kids will be happy."

"What about you?"

You stare at him grimly. Your eyes tingle and you look away. Your chest rises and falls.

"I haven't been happy in a long time. Don't think I will be again," you shrug and pull the basket away, striding past him, "I didn't make you happy either, did I?"

He huffs and trails after you as you cross to the stairs. As you go to make your ascent and he grabs your arm and spins you back to him. Before you can react, he snatches the basket from your grip and places it on the stack of rubbermaid bins by the wall.

He puts his hands on your arms and pulls you against him. He leans in and you turn your head, his lips crashing into your cheek. You shove on his chest and growl.

"What are you doing?" You pinch by his ribs.

"Baby, please, let me make it up to you–"

"Don't touch me," you push on him, "get off."

"I love you. I mean it–"

"Stop!" You hit his chest again but he doesn't budge, instead wrapping his arms around you, squeezing the breath out of you. How is he still so strong when you only ever got weaker? "Pete…"

"You can't walk away–"

"You already did," you keep your voice down, mindful of the open door above.

"Let me try. I wanna make love to you–"

"Pfft, yeah right. Go get tested and I might even consider letting you hold my hand," you snarl, "get off of me now."

"Wha– I'm clean–"

"Get!" You bring your knee up and feel it collide with his crotch. He releases you and staggers back, cupping his most precious possession. "You're a dirty fucking weasel."

You turn and pick up the basket and stomp up the stairs as you hear him whimpering. Serves him right. You can't help but smile at the ounce of power you feel in that moment.

🗄️

Monday morning both too quickly but not fast enough. You get up with the kids and get them ready for school, filling a thermos of coffee for yourself. You drive them to school and send them off with dread in your chest.

For a moment, you idle outside the school. You miss the days when you only worried about spelling quizzes and dodgeball. You hope at least your kids never end up where you are.

You follow the crawl of traffic out of the school zone and reluctantly steer towards work. You yawn and drain half your thermos before you get to the office. As you shoulder your bag and look up at the corporate facade, you feel the world threaten to crumble around you. No, not the whole world, just yours.

You enter behind a few others and try to find your courage in the elevator. You peek over at your coworkers; you recognise two but the other you don't know. There's not much workplace camaraderie, more of an understanding to get your work down and clock out.

You follow them out and go to your desk. You sit and pop the lid off of your thermos. Just enough to get you through this. You don't unpack your lunch, certain you won't be eating it there.

You turn on your PC and sign in. You're in no hurry to get started on work. Your calendar pops up with the internal schedule reminder. There it is, a meeting in ten minutes. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

You get up and go to the bathroom. You can do this. You dealt with your scoundrel husband, you are still moving, you're not dead in the water.

But how do you survive this? Do you beg? You quit and take the loss? No you can't. You need this job and if you get fired, at least you'll have a hope at severance.

You avoid your reflection. That old woman isn't you. You go out and check your watch, pausing as the shine of your rings gleam in the fluorescent light. You slide them off and put them in your back pocket.

You check the schedule one last time and go to tbe meeting room. There's no one there as you find the door shut. It's clearly empty on the other side of the windowed walls. You lean against the plaster and tap your sole.

"Ah, there she is. How's it goin', toots? You need some chamomile? The chairs sure are comfy, aren't they?" Mr. Hansen struts down with his hands in his pockets.

"Sir," you greet flatly. He's mocking you. Jokes on him, you're always tired.

"Come on," he twists the handle and swings the door open so that it bounces on the hinges, "get moving."

You don't react to his crass tone. You merely step into the room as the light flicks on as the censor picks up your movement. You walk along one side of the table as Hansen shuts the door.

You hover behind a chair as he goes along the wall and tugs each cord to repel the blinds down, blocking out the hallway. Uneasiness bubbles in your stomach as you watch him. You expected him to make your humiliation public.

"Have a seat, honey buns," he faces you, approaching the other side of the table.

You sit and fold your hands on the table top. He has no paperwork, not even a computer. You wonder what exactly is going on.

"Is someone from HR–"

"Look, let's keep the sticklers outta this," he waves you off, kick one foot out as he shifts his weight to one hip, "unless you really want a disciplinary slip. Me, personally, I can't be fucked with that paperwork."

You frown and flatten your hands on the table, trying to keep your anxiety from showing. He looks at the gesture and tilts his head. His cheek dimples and he snorts.

He doesn't comment. Not at first. He paces up and down the table and bites his thumb.

"Alright, let's get to business," he stops at the end, close to the corner, "what are you willing to do to keep this job?"

"Sir?"

"Pretty daughter you got. Probably eats up that paycheck in no time. All those cute shirts and ugh, the growth spurts–"

"Mr. Hansen," you swallow, "please, I don't think my family has anything to do with this."

"They have everything to do with this," he insists, "let's not pretend."

"I'm not– I'm sorry I fell asleep. It won't happen again."

"I gave you an out. All you had to do was put your hands down my pants and you could've napped in the boardroom. No problem. I do it all the time," he snickers, "but no, you're a stubborn little bitch. Makes me wonder what the old man sees in ya. Really, cause a tight ass ain't fun unless you get inside–"

"Mr. Hansen," you exclaim, revolted by his lewd words.

"Whatever he's doing, he's not doing it right. You need to loosen up, toots," he runs his thumb across his mustache, "and that little girl won't be so proud of mommy if she ends up working at Burger King like some stoner teenager–"

You sputter, heat creeping up the nape of your neck and speckling down your body. You shake your head. Did he know or is it a lucky guess? Either way, you don't have the energy for this. You're done being a joke for men.

"Just spit it out. What do I have to do?" You sneer as your hands ball.

His lips slant and he smothers a noise in his throat. He slowly walks closet until he's right beside you. You turn the chair to face him as he leans down and puts his hand on yours. He unfolds your fingers and feels along the indents left by your rings.

"Looks like trouble in paradise," he winks, "well, I'm the good kinda trouble. Trust me."

You stare at him. You're not as naive as you once were. There's no denial here. This is real life, a bitter pill you need to swallow.

"That's it? A hand job and I keep my job?" You squint.

He laughs and cups your chin, "oh, you think that's it?"

You can't help but let your surprise bleed through. Your not some young hot thing. Is he just trying to rub salt in the wound or is he serious?

"I…"

"Hand, mouth, cunt, ass, tits," he pulls away as he lists of each word, "you look in tact for the most part. But most importantly…" he shoots you with a finger gun, "you're desperate. What more could I ask for?"

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #pete brenner #dark pete brenner #dark!pete brenner #lloyd hansen x reader #pete brenner x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #same as it ever was #the gray man #pain hustlers

222 notes · View notes

saiidahyunie · 4 months

Note

Hello, just read the Sana headcanon that was requested by an anon, so i thought i'm gonna shoot my shot:) Can I request some jihyo x reader domestic fluff? 🥺🤧

park jihyo x reader ; fluff

synopsis: being a homebody with jihyo is something that you'll never get tired of.

wc: 1.4k

♪ ༘⋆

a/n: you guys would never see me leave the house with this dork.

—

the alarm on your phone didn’t go off this morning, though you didn’t really seem to care since the sleep felt nice for once.

buried under the covers becoming one with the mattress until you felt a sudden weight fall over you, fluttering your eyes slowly to the fan spinning above you in the bedroom as you shift a little bit to get more air in your lungs.

you look down to see what was all the commotion to see that jihyo was laying on top of you, trying to capture some of the warmth that you were keeping inside the cover as she hums against it, you softly smile at your girlfriend’s wakeup routine–something that you love her doing especially on sundays.

jihyo then pulls the cover from your neck down a bit slightly to get a closer look of your sleepy face, brushing her lips all over you as an effort to stir you awake. you tried your best to resist as you weaved your arms up and out to her waist, pulling her closer to you even though you might just suffocate from the weight–especially her breasts.

“i thought you were gonna let me sleep in baby.” you mutter as jihyo nestles her head on the crook of your collar bone, the minty breath tickling the small hairs on your neck.

“i did…yesterday.”

“we’re not doing anything today anyway.” you sigh out as you shift yourself to the side, jihyo lifting herself off of you and she is admiring the view you’re giving her.

your face was now pressed against the pillow, hair covering the upper half of your face as the oversized shirt you were wearing was exposing a little bit of your shoulder that jihyo was resting her head on a few moments ago. tossing and turning to get into a more comfortable position as you try to get yourself back to sleep.

jihyo then crawls over to you, pressing her lips onto your cheek as a last resort to get your senses awake as she continues to raid your face with kisses, making you sit up slightly to give her some of your attention in the first hours of the morning.

“alright you got me up.” you say annoyingly as jihyo snickers at you groaning at yourself, clearly cranky that your girlfriend ruined the beauty sleep that you were enjoying.

“why did you get up so early anyway?” you ask as you continue to rub your eyebrows from the stupid pieces of crust and dead skin that was on your eyelashes, only to see that jihyo had left the room.

before you could immediately flop back to the bed, you let out a yawn as jihyo walks in with a tray, setting it down right next to you as you prop yourself back up on the headboard, fixing your oversized shirt as jihyo grabs a bite from the tray.

“i made you some breakfast!” jihyo says cheekily, “one of your faves; grilled cheese and orange juice.” you smiled at her as you grabbed the glass of juice for a quick sip before getting the sliced piece of the sandwich she cooked for you.

“this is what you wanted to wake me up for? just for breakfast in bed?!”

jihyo nods in between her sandwich, “i thought i’d treat you a bit for helping me at work the other day.”

you lean back as you recall her asking to help her with a last minute preparation for one of her coworker’s birthday parties, it was fun, but they did end up passing out towards the end after having too much to drink.

“ah, i see” you teased as you continued to munch on the last bits of your slice. “thankfully the cleanup wasn’t that difficult to deal with.”

“yeah, gosh i don’t even want to think about what could’ve happened.” she replies as the both of you laughed at the event that happened that friday evening.

once the plates and cups were empty on the tray, you reached out for her hand, rubbing her thumb as you reach over for your glass of juice to finish.

“you still hungry?” you ask as you place the glass back onto the tray.

jihyo thinks about your question for a second, nodding her head after. “you offering to cook for me?”

“why not, forget sleeping in when you gave me this.”

jihyo giggles as you reach over for a quick kiss before getting off on the bed, but as you were about to head out the door to the kitchen, you hear jihyo call you again, turning your head back to see what was up this time.

“wait!”

a second of silence filled up the room as you lean against the door frame while she’s still on the bed, sitting with her legs crossed. she looked pretty cute in her simple black hoodie with grey sweats–hair tied up in a messy bun as she placed the tray on the nightstand before giving her attention back to you.

“carry me over there?” she asks politely, you duck your head down at her request, knowing that you couldn’t resist saying no to her. what ever park jihyo wants, she will get.

“sure, what would you like for your second breakfast today?” you ask as you turn your back towards her, giving a piggyback ride as she wraps her arms around your neck, lips floating next to your ears.

“surprise me! i know you’re a five star chef so do your magic.” you chuckle at her response as she points her arm up in the air, almost like commanding a battalion to battle back in the medieval times as you slowly made your way to the kitchen.

—

the sizzling of the pan and the aroma of the food kept jihyo salivating as she watched you cook, something about your backside that just kept her hypnotized as you let your hands do the work, humming while finishing up the food.

it didn’t take that long as jihyo looked up from her phone to see the plate of eggs with pancakes rested with a slice of butter on top of them , well seasoned and made with care–something that you took your time with when cooking for her.

“please enjoy as always.” you say, placing your hand out at your lovely creation as jihyo softly applauded at your work.

“thank you again my wonderful cook!” jihyo says before picking up the utensils and slicing up the pancakes right away.

as for you, you went to the fridge to grab a small container that was filled with more fruits that jihyo brought earlier, this time it was just a bunch of grapes since you were fine with eating half of a grilled cheese sandwich that jihyo cooked for you, along with another glass of orange juice as the drink.

few words were said at the kitchen island as you indulged in the food that was in front of you two. you loved sunday mornings like these–because like other days it’s always spent with jihyo.

another look of love is on your face as she makes a cross expression–an indicator that she really likes the food that you made for her, continuing to clean up the place of the four slices of pancakes and two slices of eggs that were over easy–her favorite as she places the fork and knife on the plate, finshed as she hums happily at you while you were nodding her back like a dumb bobblehead toy (you love her when she’s like this you couldn’t help yourself).

“done already?”

“that was so good babe, you should cook more often.”

“don’t i already do that??” you ask as she looks away with a poutful look on her lips, crossing your arms as she laughs at you annoyed again.

“you know i’m kidding right?”

“i know you are.” you reply as you shift over closer to her, pulling her in for a hug while she’s still sitting down. looking at her face only to notice a small piece of egg hanging from her bottom lip.

“you got something here.” you say, pointing to your bottom lip, mirroring the same spot where the small piece of egg was at.

“do i?” jihyo asks, trying to grab it immediately, you stop her for a quick second.

“let me clean it off for you.”

you then lean your head in for a kiss, swiping your tongue at the spot where the little egg piece was at before you pressed your lips in more, causing jihyo to latch onto the back of your neck, softly groaning into your mouth as you smiled against hers before pulling away for a quick second.

“you ready for some dessert?”

#twice x reader #anon ask #jihyo x reader #kpop x reader #twice jihyo #twice imagines #park jihyo #twice fluff #jihyo fluff #saiiidahyunee

247 notes · View notes

the-kr8tor · 6 months

Note

hi, hello!

since it's getting colder and colder in the name of fluffy fridays i wanted to ask for hobie and gn!reader cooking some comfort food together. like making a warm soup while being all domestic with eachother

love your writing and hope you're doing well!! <3

Adorable 🥰 thank you for requesting!

Pairing: Hobie Brown x gn! Reader/ Spider-Punk x gn! Reader

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader (Hobie is mentioned taller than r though) cw food mention, FLUFF

It's Fluffy Friday!

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

"I swear to god, Hobie put it down" you point at him, wiggling your finger for emphasis. Hobie has his hands around a bag of cornstarch, mischievous eyes settling on your furrowed brows, his smirk challenging your pout.

"It's not thick enough" he says even though the tomato soup is clearly thick enough inside the boiling pot.

Hobie has been a great help in preparing dinner, even though you insisted you make it yourself especially when he's still tired and aching from his patrol. You let him, it's not like you could win when he asked so nicely, complete with a shower of his kisses.

Crisp autumn air breezes past the open windows, trees rustling in the cool wind. The scented candles you've lighted makes the atmosphere much more relaxing.

After a brief banter on which soup to make, you two settled with some homemade tomato soup and grilled cheese cooked to perfection. Already done with his sandwiches, bread golden brown, melted cheese oozing out from the side, it all smells heavenly; your stomach rumbles at the thought of finally biting into it. Antsy, he has the bright idea to tease you and your soup. Hobie knows exactly what he's doing, skilled enough in the kitchen— he just wants to get a rise out of you.

"You said that last time! You made it all clumpy" you say while trying to wrangle the bag from his hand.

Hobie raises it up away from your reach. Your face dangerously close to his, free hand over your hip, bare skin tingling where your jumper hitched up.

"What do I get if I give it to you?" He says with a playful smirk, you already know what he's asking for in exchange for the cornstarch that's directly on top of the pot, threatening to spill over.

"Kiss?" You place your palm over his heart, that always works on him.

He tilts his head, eyes on the ceiling, pretending to think about your offer. It's not like you don't kiss him, quite the opposite actually, you make the effort to give it a hundred times over.

Hobie bites his lip like he has nothing to do but accept your oh so terrible offer. "Deal"

You snort, hand placed on his jaw, affectionately rubbing the growing stubble over it. Pretending to lean towards his lips, you snatch the bag from him, saving the soup from turning into a dip like consistency.

"Aha!" You shake the bag in your hand, seeing Hobie with a half pout, frozen, still waiting for the kiss.

"You shouldn't have done that" He readies his stance, lunging at you with a smirk, dark eyes staring back. Yelping, you skedaddle away with a laugh.

It's safe to say your dinner has gone cold.

159 notes · View notes

goldenlikedayl1ght · 1 month

Text

lover - p. parker

a/n: hi guys so sorry it's been a while i meant to finish this a million times and im still not thrilled with the ending but oh well! i want to make a quick note that as someone whose hard of hearing i am aware that being hoh/deaf has a lot of rheotric around it and there's a lot of positive associations with being hoh/deaf but reader in this fic is not always happy with being hoh because being deaf/hoh has a LOT of complciated emotions associated with it! just keep that in mind as we go forward. warnings: hoh!reader, cursing probably, suggestive behaviors, lots of kissing, lots of fluff, a poorly written ending, gn!reader, reader having a lot of complex emotions about their hearing, talks of weddings, and reader has a mom and a step dad who love them. AUTISTIC PETER BTW ITS ONLY MENTIONED ONCE BUT IT IS IMPORTANT TO ME word count: 4.0k summary: peter parker is quite literally the most amazing boyfriend ever. even when you realize you're hard of hearing. pairing: tasm!peter parker x hoh!reader now playing: lover - taylor swift "my heart's been borrowed and yours has been blue/all's well that ends well to end up with you/swear to be over-dramatic and true to my/lover"

Going to the grocery store is a nightmare.

Especially when you go on a Saturday in New York City, on a relatively nice day out.

You’re pushing the cart through the grocery store, trying to focus on what’s right in front of you as Peter comes up behind you, placing a box of cinnamon toast crunch in the bag before you check it off your list.

This is your system—Peter runs around grabbing your assorted groceries for the next two weeks as you check it off the list, then there is two people making sure you have all your groceries. This pretty much eliminates the possibility of having to run out to the store during the week.

And usually, you do this very early on Sunday mornings—Like, you and Peter are the first patrons at the store.

But you’re out of just a few things that are essential—Toothpaste, Milk, coffee—You pretty much just decided to get it out of the way for the next two weeks.

The problem now, is that you’re in this crowded store, full of people talking, machines beeping and carts wheeling.. You’re struggling to focus. That’s what you pass it off as, at least.

Peter’s hand lands gently on your arm as he says your name gently.

“Huh?” You tilt your head to look at him.

“I just wanted to know what was next on the list.” He smiles at you. You glance down at the list,

“Uh, Bread.” You tell him, planning on making grilled cheese and tomato soup for dinner.

“Okay, I’ll be right back.” He hums, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. You smile softly. You’re not the biggest fan of PDA but Peter can recognize when you’re feeling upset and just need a reminder of your worth.

A few minutes later, as you’re struggling to ground yourself in the middle of this Trader Joe’s, Peter spooks you when he comes up behind you, his hand resting on your upper arm.

“Fucking Christ—” You gasped, “You terrified me!”

“I’m sorry, Baby.” He says gently. “I called your name a few times, was yapping all the way down the aisle.”

“Oh..” Your face softens. You don’t really know how to say all the things you’re feeling.

“Hey, I’ll—I’ll finish up here, how bout you step outside for a few minutes? Wait for me by the carts?”

Your list is almost finished up so you nod, smiling gently before leaving the grocery store, finally getting some peace and quiet. You lean against the wall of the grocery store, watching people pass the grocery store. About twenty minutes later, Peter walks out of the grocery store, holding your grocery bags. He hands you two bags but carries about four. Your boyfriend is Spider-man, and as much as you hate taking advantage of that.. You can’t’ deny how nice his strength is for situations like this.

He shifts the bags around to pull two candy bars out of his pocket—

A Snickers for him, and a standard Hershey bar for you.

You eat your candy as you make the short trip home, not saying much. The candy bar helps, but this looming truth lingers in the air, and you don’t want to be the one to say anything about it. So the pair of you make your way into the apartment, putting away your groceries wordlessly. But in the quiet of your apartment, you stop, suddenly plagued with a new trouble.

“My ears are ringing.”

“What?” It’s not something he’s asking because he did not hear you, but the statement catches him off guard.

“My ears are ringing.” You repeat. He gently takes the oranges out of your hands, scared that you might dig your fingers into them and destroy them half an hour after he picked them out.

“Okay,” he says softly, putting them to the side. “Why don’t you go sit down in the living room while I make some tea and put the groceries away?” He gently prods. Too busy wanting to literally claw off your own ears, you nod and head over to your couch.

Peter’s by your side a few minutes later with a mug of tea on the coffee table. However, it goes quickly forgotten as you climb on top of him, cuddling into him. His hands rub your back gently. You sit like this for a while, until he decides to ask—

“How long have you had trouble with your hearing?” His voice is soft. You reflect for a little while, before responding with a soft,

“A long time, now..” You remember being a teenager and having trouble hearing your friends in the lunchroom and lectures being a nightmare during college. “I think I’ve been just ignoring it for a few years..”

He had a feeling that’s what your answer would have been—you’re rather in tune with yourself, and something like this would’ve been something you picked up on a long time ago. But he doesn’t blame you for ignoring something like this.

“You know we should probably go to an audiologist, right?” He asks.

“Yeah, I know..” You sigh, cuddling into him further, as if you can hide away from the entire world.

“I’ll take you,” he says gently, not wanting you to worry about going alone or being anxious. You’ll be anxious anyways, but maybe he could help. And he will help, his fingers always brushing against your skin, making sure you remember that he’s there and not going anywhere. It’s the best way he can help-- By making sure you’re not alone.

“Thanks..” Your voice breaks, and he frowns, his hand coming to find your cheek, pulling you into his view. The sight of you crying makes his heart squeeze.

“What’s the matter, baby?” He asks softly, his thumb wiping your tears.

“I don’t..” You bite your lip, trying to form the words. You’re not an idiot. You have done some research on Deaf culture. You knew that it was an enhancement, something to be proud of. And that was phenomenal—You had done a lot of courses in college on disability rhetoric, and you knew how important it was to reinforce positive associations with disabilities, as well as the fact that most deaf and hard of hearing people did not consider themselves disabled.

And all that pride lived inside of you—But you couldn’t help your struggle about the subject. It would take time to adjust to, and Peter.. Peter deserved an easy life. He was Spider-Man for Christ’s sake!

“I don’t want you to have to worry about me if it turns out I do have trouble hearing. I don’t want to be a burden to you.”

He frowns at this, tilting his head.

“Hey,” he tilts his head, looking at you with admiration. “Did you know when I was adopted by my aunt and uncle they told them I would be a challenge to raise? That my autism and lack of social skills would make me.. harder to love..?”

“You’re not hard to love.” You immediately say, and he smiles.

“I know. My aunt and uncle proved that to me, they went into raising me knowing that I would just have different struggles as other kids my age. Even if you are heard of hearing or deaf—You’re not hard to love. You just have different experiences and struggles from other people our age. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want every part of that journey.” He leans forward and places a kiss on your forehead. It makes you smile a bit. “Now, no more tears. Let’s watch a movie, and we’ll start our research tomorrow, okay?” He hums.

You nod and grab the throw blanket behind him, pulling it across the pair of you as he grabs the remote and turns on your favorite movie. His hands stay on you, rubbing comforting patterns into your skin.

He turns the subtitles on without you asking.

• • •

The audiologist office has lights that are too bright. You and Peter sit side by side, as you look around at the other patients. Your chest tightens as you realize you are surrounded by people in their 70’s and 80’s—Except for you, a twenty something year old, a young boy, around seven, and a teenage girl. You all share similar looks of discomfort, but in your anxiety, you notice that there’s a sense of.. familiarity in seeing people your age here.

You decide to put a pin in your thoughts, as Peter’s hand finds your thigh, and you glance back over to him. In the past two weeks, He’s been giving more physical cues to get your attention, a small way he’s trying to make you feel more comfortable.

“Stop bouncing your leg,” he says softly, “You’re just working yourself up.” He says gently. You nod, and then your name is called, so you gather your things, and before you go, Peter grabs your wrist, before throwing up the sign in ASL for ‘I love you’. You grin and throw it back, before following the nurse into the back.

Peter waits, for around half an hour, making sure not to draw too much attention to himself. He makes pleasant conversation with two of the older ladies who are there, after finding out that they all grew up in Queens.

After that half hour, you come back out of the back rooms of the office, and Peter grins at you as he says a quick, respectful goodbye to the two older women, before handing you your jacket.

The pair of you stay quiet until you’re out of the office, and only when you’re a few steps away does he slip his jacket on before asking,

“How’d it go?” And with this, he clumsily signs along. The pair of you have been practicing ASL—Short phrases here and there.

You hesitate for an answer, going into your bag and fishing out a small ASL dictionary. Inside, in his sort of messy handwriting, Peter has written you a note that you take a glance at every time you open it. It reads, ‘Don’t forget I love you’, and it never fails to make you smile.

Another challenge you’ve been facing in your journey to learn ASL is your facial expressions—You’ve never been good at properly matching your face to your emotions or words, so it’s been a struggle.

“Fine,” You speak and sign. Then you pause. “Actually, not fine.” You sign, and then you drop the signing, because you’re only a beginner. “It’s sort of what we expected—My hearing is.. bad, and will probably get worse as I age.” His hand finds yours.

“Okay.. What did he say about hearing aids?”

“That If I felt like I needed them to schedule a follow-up.” You tell him. “But they’re expensive and I’ll need to do research to see what sort of health insurance coverage I have.”

He nods gently, his thumb rubbing your knuckles gently.

“Well, we’re gonna cross that bridge when we get there, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He throws up the sign for ‘I love you’. You throw it back. And it might seem stupid, but every time Peter holds up that sign, your heart melts a little bit. Maybe it’s a low bar or something like that—And it’s true. But Peter is learning a whole new language for the sake of making sure you’re comfortable and for your comfort. No one has ever done anything close to that for you.

• • •

Peter has become in tune with your body. Which is a weird way to say it, but it’s true. Those heightened senses of his come in handy, and mostly, he watches for tension in your shoulders and your jaw, perfect indicators that your ears hurt.

Usually, it’s this painful ringing, and usually, Peter just tries to make you as cozy as possible while you ride that out.

But tonight, you’re at a family party, celebrating your sister’s birthday. She’s getting married in a few months, and she’s been so busy with that you haven’t seen a lot of her. Peter holds your gift for her in one hand, and your hand in his with the other.

The party goes well for the most part, you’re just relaxing and hanging out with your family. It’s a nice party, and you’re grateful for your entire family. Your mom holds your nephew in her lap, your sister laughs with your aunts and her fiancé, and your brother and uncle are yapping about some football game.

You, Peter, and your stepdad stand in the kitchen, talking about all sorts of things. Your sister’s wedding, the cruise he just took your mom on, Peter’s recent promotion, and of course..

“Have you considered hearing aids?” Your stepdad asks.

“Yeah, they’re just.. expensive.” You laugh, nervously.

Your stepdad gently taps his own ears, “Well, you’d be part of an elite club.” He grins.

You roll your eyes playfully, before your attention is grabbed by a tugging on the leg of your pants. You glance down, and see your young nephew, gazing up at you with wide eyes.

“What can I do for you, little man?” You ask, a hand coming up to brush hair from his face. He says something you can’t quite make out, so you put your drink on the counter and crouch down to hear him properly, tapping right below your ear, “One more time, bud.”

“Can Peter come play?” He asks, still a little shy around the man you’ve been dating for a while now. You grin and nod,

“Of course he can.” You glance up to Peter, then to your nephew. “What do you wanna play?”

“Dinosaurs.” He requests. So, you pick him up and turn to Peter.

“Peter, our friend here would like to play dinosaurs with you.” You grin.

The way your hair falls into place, the way you hold your nephew close, the way your smile pinches your eyes together.. Peter wishes he could freeze this moment forever because you look perfect.

“Dinosaurs?” he repeats, before grabbing your nephew from you, and then positioning him so that he’s riding on Peter’s back. “Dude, I love dinosaurs!” that’s the last thing you can make out as Peter carries him off to the living room to play dinosaurs. You watch with an affectionate smile, taking small sips of your drink.

“So… Nice kid..” Your mom says as she walks into the kitchen.

You assume she’s talking about your nephew, so you shrug, “He is a good kid.”

“No, I’m talking about Peter.” Your face flushes as you realize where this is going.

“What about Peter?” You hum, looking over to her.

“I’m just saying, I think—”

“You two are gross together.” Your stepdad chimes in, but there’s no malice behind his comment. In fact, you only laugh because it’s something you used to say to them when they started dating.

“Yeah, I know,” You hum. “I really love him.” You confess, before shrugging.

“You know, with your sister’s wedding coming up, I’ve been thinking a lot about—” Your face flushes, as you finish your drink.

“When Peter and I are ready to get married, you two will be the first to know.”

“Oh, so you do wanna marry him.” Your mom smiles. Your face is warmer now.

“I’m gonna go mingle, you two should try minding your own business.”

You find Peter rather quickly, and he just smirks at you, before signing, ‘Talking about marriage?’

You roll your eyes, signing back, ‘Shut up.’ He just puckers his lips and blows a kiss at you. He wants to marry you too.

• • •

After dinner and cake, you sit in your old bedroom, rubbing your ears as you try and come up with an excuse to leave.

Peter finds you a few minutes later and sits next to you on your bed. You lean into him, your eyes heavy from dealing with the ringing you’ve been dealing with.

He gently prompts you to pick your head up before signing, ‘Ringing again?’

You just nod.

“Pete, I wanna go home.” You tell him. Your brother and nephew left a little while ago, and downstairs, your aunts and uncles are getting ready to head home.

“I know, baby. Let’s get you home.” He hums softly. He gently rubs his hand up and down your arm, before pressing a sweet kiss to your neck. Then, one at the base of your ear.

• • •

A few days later, you’re just doing chores around the apartment when your phone buzzes. When you take a minute to glance at it, you find yourself grinning.

It’s the link to an article, sent to you by your mom—Besides Peter, she has been the greatest support through your journey in figuring out you’re hearing. And she knows you have a bias towards Spider-man as far as vigilantes go (wonder why).

The link leads you to a photo of Spider-man, who is swinging across the city, holding up the sign for ‘I love you’. A grin breaks out on your face, just in time for Peter to crawl back into the apartment.

You find him with his mask off as he starts to calm down from a long day, and before he can do much else, you make your way over to him and pull him in for a long kiss.

He hums, his hands finding your waist as your arms wrap around his neck. When you pull away he grins.

“Hi.” He hums.

“Hey..” you smile. “I didn’t know Spider-man knew sign language,” You tease, and he just laughs, a light pink dusting of blush across his cheeks.

“He knows it for you.”

“For me?”

“For you, baby,” he leans in and kisses you gently. His hands begin to travel from your waist to the hem of your shirt, and then up, resting his gloved fingers against the skin of your sides.

• • •

Your hearing aids come in just in time for your sister’s wedding.

You pick them up and hold them in your hands as you go back and forth, worrying. Worrying about Peter not liking them, worrying about breaking them, worrying about everything, really.

But you stand in front of the mirror, and put them on carefully, before turning them on. You take a moment to adjust to how certain sounds are now. The drip of the faucet is more pronounced, and the sounds don’t just melt together like they usually do.

You can even hear Peter shuffling around outside, giving you as much time as you need to process the look and feel of them. When you finally step out, you’re nervous, and he must be able to tell.

“Look at you,” he grins, peering at the hearing aids. “Can we get a spin?” You immediately let out a nervous giggle, and then do a little twirl for him, and he just laughs and claps.

“You like them?” You ask nervously, and he nods.

“Absolutely.” He tells you. He leans in and presses a soft kiss to the side of your head, right next to your hearing aids. “I have something for you.” he tells you, before handing you a small black box. For a moment, you freak out. He probably senses the panic and shakes his head, “Just open it.”

You do, and when you realize what you’re looking at, your heart absolutely melts. It’s a gold star earing that has a chain that hooks onto your hearing aid, and another chain with more star pendants that dangle. It’s gorgeous, and you wonder what you did to deserve him. You lean in and kiss him gently.

“Thank you.” You say softly, and he can tell you’re going to get emotional, so he kisses you again.

“I think you look very pretty.” He hums, “Complete.” You grin and lean in for another kiss.

You’re beginning to feel it, too.

• • •

The morning of your sister’s wedding, you’re texting Peter as your sister gets her makeup done. You’re pretty much all ready, you’re just inclined to stay with her until she needs you.

‘Bug Boy