#full of yap soup

[swatch-ful]

One time I had a dream and it was at a wedding and the important part was that HMS were there (though it was not the wedding of any of them just to be clear) and the more important part was that Mind in particular was there in a dress and I think that is Important

[crystalflygeo]

hello uuuuhhh why do all my 3 husbands make soup as their specialty?? //HIT I love the absolute dichotomy they got going on tho Zhongli's is full of meat (pork/ham) all spices and flavorful, a full filling meal Neuv's is all about the purity and clarity of the broth, just a bit to taste on that plate Baizhu's is actually a dessert (??) it's made of fruits

Zhongli's talks about how the ingredients must be of the highest quality, takes a long time to prepare and he does so to perfection Neuv's talks about how the water used is of the best and purest quality and how it's a complicated dish with many steps he perfects as well Baizhu: this is (somehow) usually bitter as fuck but I put some sugar on it for you bc I like you c:

[ayyydra]

Was talking to a friend yesterday about how I enjoy seeing AU's of where Knives lives post-Trimax. And with my Trigun O.C involved, Knives tells Simela about all the embarrassing things Vash did as a kid.

But I also just thought about him being the BEST uncle to any nieces/nephews that come along the way. Whether biological, independent plant, or adopted.

In Simela's main story, she's unable to have any children of her own due to the effects of the experiments and serum infusions she went through in the EoM. In the main story with Vash - post-Trimax - her and Vash tend to travel quite a bit; adopting any baby independent plants that happen to be born.

Probably VERY OOC of Knives, but he would be SO overjoyed at being involved in raising his little 'brothers/sisters' or nieces and nephews. He definitely comes across to me as the strict but fair type. The man would instantly put his hand up to take care of the kids if Vash and Simela want to go out and have a night to themselves. He's a hands on uncle, like his brother is a hands on dad (Knives, in my opinion at least, would be a hands on dad if given that same opportunity). After all, it takes a village to raise a child! (or two!)

This whole family would also be somewhat overprotective of the children involved. After all, the world outside the village where Vash and Simela settle down in (which I head canon, is a village that is in favour of Vash being around), may not be all that kind to these children if those townspeople knew the origins of said children, and who their father and uncle truly are.

[hrrtshape]

　　the great hall dining guide : five stars or food poisoning? 　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　back to the masterlist　

no hunger in hogwarts. the great hall is an empire of excess, a temple to the art of never saying no to seconds (or sevenths). the long house tables are stacked with plates that fill and refill as if controlled by some benevolent, slightly overbearing god-parent who cannot fathom the concept of "i'm full."

hi, i'm emma, i shifted to my marauders dr, i'm here to yap.

　❛❛ when to show up ?

breakfast :  starts at 7:00 am, but nobody with a sense of self-preservation gets there at the crack of dawn unless they have quidditch practice or are a first-year who still thinks hogwarts runs on a logical schedule. prime time is 7:30–8:30 am, when the food is still hot and everyone is too groggy to engage in unnecessary morning conversations. if you come after 9:00 am, expect half-warm toast and a few sad sausages.

lunch :  served from 12:30 pm to 1:30 pm. 12:30 is the best time if you want first dibs on everything, but the best people-watching happens closer to 1:00 pm when people start arguing over last-minute essay deadlines. if you're running late and slide in at 1:25 pm, good luck – you're getting whatever's left.

dinner :  6:00 pm sharp, ends at 8:00 pm. 7:00 pm is the sweet spot – not too early that you look overeager, not too late that you get the rejected drumsticks and a dubious slice of treacle tart. sitting down at 7:45 pm means you're scavenging for whatever scraps are left like a victorian orphan.

　❛❛ where to sit ?

slytherin table :  best for hushed scheming, power lunches, and exchanging contraband under the table. do not sit here if you can't handle judgmental side-eyes while buttering your bread.

ravenclaw table :  ideal for finishing homework mid-meal. also where people pretend they're above caring about gossip while actively eavesdropping on every conversation. the back half of the table is safer if you don't want to hear someone dissecting 17th-century wandlore at 8 am.

gryffindor table :  loud. expect at least one person standing on the bench telling a story that is objectively not that funny. best if you enjoy chaotic meal settings or want to be involved in something ridiculous before you've even finished your juice.

hufflepuff table :  safest bet for a peaceful meal, but you will 100% be roped into sharing your food. the friendliest seating arrangement, but also the most likely to involve a group discussion about everyone's day when you just wanted to eat in silence.

professor's table :  do not sit here unless you have a death wish.

　❛❛ what to eat (and avoid) .

best breakfast items :  the porridge is solid (literally, if you come too late), but the best move is the warm croissants with honey. also, the lemon & apple pasties are basically a cheat code if you want to smuggle food out for later.

lunch must-haves :  steak and kidney pie is better than you'd expect. if there's a soup option, proceed with caution, half the time it's delicious, half the time it's some medieval potion that smells like a transfiguration accident.

dinner essentials :  roast anything is good, but the yorkshire puddings are a religious experience. also, the treacle tart is worth elbowing someone for.

what to avoid :  the questionable fish dishes. boiled meant. you don't know where that's coming from, and you don't want to. also, anything neon-colored. if it looks like it belongs in a potions class, it probably does.

　❛❛ general survival tips .

don't drink the pumpkin juice if you're not in the mood for it. it's literally everywhere, and by week three, you will hate it.

bring your own condiments if you care about flavour. hogwarts food is good, but nobody in this castle has heard of seasoning unless it's one of those other-culture-nights.

do not, under any circumstances, take the last dinner roll unless you want to start an inter-house war.

sitting too close to the staff table means your meal comes with a free ethics lecture from mcgonagall. proceed with caution.

　　q & a .

　❛❛ what is breakfast like .

if you've never had breakfast in the great hall, you've never truly lived. that's not hyperbole, that's just the facts.

and the thing is,,,,,, it wasn't just about the food. it was about the ritual. it was about getting there early, half-asleep and draped over the table, while the house elves sent up silver platters of steaming porridge and eggs and enough bacon to make even the most dedicated vegetarian question their life choices. it was about the lazy hum of morning gossip, about james and sirius trying to one-up each other with increasingly absurd breakfast combinations (once, i watched sirius put marmalade on a sausage. we don't talk about it).

breakfast started early, before the sun had fully stretched its arms, and ended when the professors decided we were done loitering. if you weren't there by the time mcgonagall sat down, you were basically on borrowed time.

　❛❛ what is lunch like .

lunch at hogwarts was less of a meal and more of a tactical battle. the great hall would be an absolute warzone of students rushing in from classes, half of them looking like they'd barely survived whatever horrors had just unfolded in transfiguration. 

the food appeared at exactly midday, no earlier, no later. if you showed up late, you were fighting for scraps, and by scraps, i mean you'd be left with 99 choices for meals instead of 100. scarcity, i know.

lunch was also prime time for food theft. you could be having an entirely normal conversation and, in the blink of an eye, your pumpkin pasty would be gone. sirius was the undisputed king of this, the man had the reflexes of a thief in victorian london. i once watched him steal an entire shepherd's pie from remus's plate without breaking eye contact. it was both terrifying and awe-inspiring.

　❛❛ what is dinner like .

hogwarts dinners were the closest thing to divinity i've ever known. long wooden tables overflowing with everything you could possibly want: roast chicken, yorkshire pudding, steak, treacle tart so good it made you believe in love again. it was opulence, it was luxury, it was the kind of meal you dream about when you're in some sad, muggle diner trying to convince yourself that soggy chips and watery gravy are 'fine.'

　❛❛ special occasions .

feast days at hogwarts were another level. halloween, christmas, the end-of-year banquet, these were events. these were festivals of indulgence. the house elves pulled out all the stops: whole roast turkeys, mountains of roast potatoes, rivers of rich, golden gravy, cauldron cakes stacked like towers. desserts that defied logic and probably several laws of nature. on halloween, the hall was covered in floating pumpkins and eerie green light, and the food had a vaguely chaotic energy to match (one year, the treacle tarts actually screamed when you bit into them. highly unsettling, but still delicious).

christmas dinner was something else entirely. it was warm and glowing and endless. crackers snapped, jokes were told, and dumbledore drank enough mead to make even him slightly ridiculous. it was the kind of meal you thought about for the rest of your life. it was family, it was home.

　❛❛ what's the deal with house-elves?

the hogwarts kitchen operates with the ruthless efficiency of a five-star hotel run by creatures legally bound to service.

a hundred or so house-elves live below the castle, working in near invisibility, preparing all meals and sending them up through enchanted pathways that deposit dishes straight onto the great hall tables. you cannot see the elves. you do not hear them. but you know they exist, like the wizarding world's most overworked stage crew.

you can also visit them in the kitchens. they're nice, say hi.

　❛❛ can you request food?

hogwarts was a lot of things, but it was not a restaurant. if you wanted something specific, you either made a pilgrimage to the kitchens and begged the house elves (a move so shameful it had to be done in absolute secrecy. or if you like.......really, really, really charmed them) or you suffered in silence. sirius, of course, once tried to get the great hall to serve "a proper fry-up" at dinner, only to be met with silence and what i can only describe as deeply offended energy from the floating candles.

but somehow, it didn't matter. because the food was already perfect. and now, i have to live knowing that no meal will ever come close to a great hall dinner. it's fine. i'm fine. i'll just sit here, eating my disappointing, mortal food, and pretend my soup isn't deeply depressing.

　❛❛ what about drinks?

again, pumpkin juice. an obsession, a tyranny, a strange fixation. every meal, every table, a seemingly infinite supply. there is also water, milk (cold, in small glass jugs, looking like something out of a victorian schoolhouse), and for the older students at special occasions, a sweet, non-alcoholic mead that tastes like it wants to be alcoholic but isn't. butterbeer, tragically, is an off-campus luxury.

　❛❛ is there a meal schedule? like certain things on certain days? or do they just pile every type of food on the table?

hogwarts operates on a structured but generous meal plan. weekday breakfasts, always got your staples. porridge, toast, eggs, bacon, sausages, and the occasional wizarding oddity like blood pudding for the particularly cursed among us. but sundays are for extravagant brunch spreads. croissants. kippers. jams that taste like childhood summers. it's as if the house-elves know that sunday means stress, existential whatever, dread, so they soften the blow with flaky pastry.

lunch is always dependable, usually soups and sandwiches or something hearty if you've got a double potions period ahead. dinner, though, is where the patterns emerge. mondays are classic british, shepherd's pie, roast beef, yorkshire pudding. tuesdays are usually a little more continental, pastas, stews. fridays are always a feast, usually something big and festive. then you have the seasonal changes: october brings pumpkin-infused everything, winter means more roasts, few first weeks of summer term leans into fresher, lighter meals. but yes, the mainstay staples are always available. if you want treacle tart on a wednesday, it will be there.

　❛❛ there's wizard candy and drinks, but is there any other food? i’m sure at some point wizards put magic in any food they could think of just to see what would happen.

oh, absolutely. you’re thinking like a true hogwarts student. you know someone, at some point, tried to put magic into a loaf of bread just to see if it would slice itself (it did, but then it also tried to slice other things). beyond the standard chocolate frogs and pumpkin juice, wizarding cuisine includes a fair bit of magically enhanced food. firewhisky actually warms your throat as it goes down. fizzing whizzbees lift you half an inch off the ground. there are soups that change flavour as you eat them, pies that hum lullabies if you’re up late studying. and don’t even get me started on the experimental drinks at the three broomsticks, someone once ordered a 'black hole brew' and forgot what year it was for a full hour. but the cuisine is basically muggle...just hexed.

　❛❛ do the meals cater to dietary restrictions?

100%. vegans, vegetarians, allergy-havers. you're covered. a muggleborn slytherin from third year complained about the lack of plant-based options, and the next morning, an entire section of the breakfast table was dedicated to oat milk, tofu scramble, and wizarding equivalents of nutritional yeast. hogwarts may be stuck in some medieval ways, but food evolves.

　❛❛ what happens if you miss a meal?

if you're lucky, a friend grabs you something before the food vanishes. if you're unlucky, you’re breaking into the kitchens akin to a desperate raccoon. the house-elves don't mind, though, if you're polite, they'll feed you like a long-lost child. if you're rude, they'll 'accidentally' give you a soup that turns your tongue blue for a week.

　❛❛ is there coffee?

yes, but it's wizard coffee, stronger than espresso, borderline narcotic. one cup and you're writing your entire transfiguration essay in ten minutes. two cups and you can see through time.

　❛❛ how do holiday feasts work?

absolute carnage. christmas and halloween feasts are legendary. enchanted decorations, endless courses, puddings that explode into confetti when you cut into them. the easter feast is basically a chocolate overdose. sometimes on valentine's day the desserts start murmuring love poetry. dumbledore's delighted. everyone..... horrified.

　❛❛ is there a limit to how much you can eat?

only in the sense that your body is a fragile, mortal thing. the food itself is infinite. the house-elves could, in theory, keep producing it indefinitely. but, you know, you eat four servings of steak-and-kidney pie and you're just going to be that person in the common room later.

　❛❛ do different houses have different food preferences?

subtly, yes. the great hall offers everything, but certain tables lean into certain dishes. gryffindors love big, hearty, comforting food. ravenclaws lean into the more intricate, delicate meals, think pastries and complex soups. slytherins have an eye for the finer things, often going for the more gourmet options. hufflepuffs love food that feels like a hug: freshly baked bread, warm pies, things that remind you of home.

　❛❛ are there midnight snacks?

not officially, but yes. common rooms have snack stashes. and if you're clever (or just have the marauder's map, wink wink), you can always sneak down to the kitchens. the house-elves will feed you, no questions asked. some students take it a step further and befriend the house-elves outright. those students never go hungry.

　❛❛ how does the food appear? is it just magic or is there a system?

magic, but with logistics. the food is prepared in the kitchens directly beneath the great hall, then it's levitated up and appears on the tables at the precise moment it's ready. no waiting, no serving, just instant gratification. dangerously efficient.

　❛❛ how does hogwarts source its food? is it all local, or do they magically import things?

combination of both. they have magical greenhouses and farms for most fresh ingredients, but certain things, exotic spices, imported sweets, get brought in magically.

　❛❛ are there ever surprise meals? do the house elves ever just decide to switch things up randomly?

sometimes, if there's an occasion or they just feel like it. but the menu is largely set because consistency is part of the magic.

　❛❛ are meals ever used as punishment? do detention students get different food or are they made to help the house elves prepare meals?

not officially, but some professors (like astronomy) have been known to send students to do menial kitchen work as a form of discipline. nothing cruel, just hours of potato peeling.

　❛❛ has there ever been a kitchen-related disaster? a spell gone wrong, a cauldron explosion, a food fight?

yes, frequently !!!! misfired enlarging spells, self-chopping vegetables getting too enthusiastic, enchanted ladles starting fights. house elves keep it under control, but it's not unheard of for a whole batch of treacle tart to suddenly gain sentience and try to unionise.

[jyeoulzhu]

wtf!

summary . y/n casually pulls aeri to the safer side of the sidewalk mid-yap session, leaving her malfunctioning. she clings to their sleeve, still in denial. later, y/n buys her ice cream and warms her hands in their hoodie pocket.

pairing . giselle x gender neutral reader

y/n and aeri have been walking for at least fifteen minutes, and in that time, they've managed to argue about the most irrelevant topics known to mankind.

it started with aeri suddenly gaslighting y/n into thinking that fish can drown. y/n, visibly distressed, refused to believe such nonsense, but aeri, being the menace that she is, kept insisting until they pulled out their phone to look it up. turns out, some fish actually can drown, which made aeri victorious and y/n existential.

"okay, but hear me out," y/n says, still recovering from the betrayal of science. "if the ocean is a giant soup—"

"oh my god, we are not doing this."

"listen."

"no. absolutely not."

"LISTEN."

"if you call the ocean a broth, i am literally going home."

y/n dramatically puts a hand on their chest. "aeri. be serious for a second. the ocean is made up of water, salt, animal carcasses, and seasoning from pollution. tell me that's not a soup."

aeri looks at them like they just committed a federal crime. "you need to be arrested immediately."

y/n cackles, too proud of their logic, and they keep walking, aeri muttering about how she needs better friends under her breath. the streetlights cast a soft yellow glow over the sidewalk, the air is crisp, and the sound of their footsteps fills the quiet night.

and then—it happens.

y/n reaches out mid-conversation, fingers grazing her wrist before gently wrapping around it, guiding her to the inner side of the sidewalk. it's so effortless, like they do it all the time, like it's natural.

aeri freezes.

wait. wait.

she stops walking, her brain malfunctioning, and y/n gets a few steps ahead before noticing she's no longer beside them.

they turn around, confused. "what?"

aeri squints at them. "did you just sidewalk-rule me?"

y/n raises an eyebrow. "uh, yeah?"

"why?"

"so you don't get hit by a car???" they say, like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

aeri crosses her arms, trying so hard to act unbothered despite the full-on butterfly migration happening in her stomach. "what if i wanted to get hit by a car?"

y/n gives her the driest look known to mankind. "then do it when i'm not around."

she scoffs, annoyed that they sound so casual about it while she's literally about to go into cardiac arrest.

they keep walking, and aeri, despite her brain yelling at her, does something unhinged.

she grabs onto their sleeve.

not their hand, not their arm—just their sleeve. like she needs to hold onto something, like she's making sure they don't go anywhere.

y/n glances down, noticing it, and instead of teasing her, they just let her.

and that's when aeri realizes.

she's fucked.

—

they end up at a convenience store because y/n randomly decides they need ice cream, and aeri, still lowkey malfunctioning from the sidewalk incident, blindly follows.

she watches, in a daze, as y/n stands in front of the freezers, contemplating flavors like it's a life-or-death decision.

"okay, so like..." y/n furrows their brows. "cookies and cream is elite, but chocolate chip cookie dough has that texture."

aeri barely hears them. her mind is too busy replaying the moment from earlier like a glitching simulation.

"you good?" y/n asks, waving a hand in front of her face.

she blinks. "huh?"

"you've been staring at the freezer like it owes you money."

"oh," aeri says, stupidly. "yeah. i'm fine."

y/n narrows their eyes. "are you still thinking about the ocean soup thing?"

she snaps out of it immediately. "NO. SHUT UP. STOP BRINGING IT UP."

y/n just laughs and grabs the cookies and cream. when they get to the counter, aeri reaches to pay first, but y/n literally side-steps her and taps their card before she can even react.

she glares at them. "why."

y/n shrugs. "because."

aeri, still recovering from the sidewalk thing, is now recovering from this too.

—

by the time they're heading back, the city is quieter, the night air cooler, and the ice cream cups they bought are half-eaten. aeri is happily rambling about some drama she saw on twitter, and y/n is nodding along, responding every now and then with "no way, fr?" to make it seem like they're listening (they are, mostly).

at some point, y/n yawns.

"tired?" aeri teases, nudging them.

"you talk a lot."

"um, RUDE??"

"nah, i like it," they say casually, stretching their arms over their head.

aeri pauses.

hold on.

what the hell is she supposed to do with that information.

before she can think about it too much, y/n does something even worse.

they wrap an arm around her shoulders.

casually. like it's nothing.

like she's not about to explode.

"your hands are cold," y/n mumbles, pulling her a little closer.

aeri literally forgets how to breathe.

her brain is SCREAMING. her soul has left her body.

she's so frozen in shock that she doesn't even realize when she leans into them a little. just enough to feel the warmth, just enough so y/n knows she's not going anywhere.

and if she falls asleep thinking about it... yeah. nobody needs to know.

[octopiys]

Lost and Found

I. roll call and rainy nights

Next

Maybe Simon doesn't have any kids. Not yet at least. Maybe he doesn't know anyone we'll enough, or maybe he's not sure if he wants them in the first place.

But I'll tell you what.

Every time he goes on leave, without fail, he has an army of critters showing up to his house in the country. He never turns anything out to the streets, or to the cold night. The bottom of his pantry is stock full of dog and cat food. He's got three bird feeders in his back yard. There's four refillable water bowls by his garage.

The raccoons show up first without fail. They're named One and Deux, and they just recently had a baby named Tres. Hes pretty sure they live on his roof. He checked his cameras one night, after a long mission, and found them holding up Tres to the camera.

He didn't cry about that, what are you talking about?

Then the dogs show up. They're all mutts of varying sizes. One looks like some sort of lab, named Dog. Another is about the size of a pomeranian, but looks like a shaggy chihuahua. That's Barrow. He found her in his garden shed. She's got a mean bite, but a sweet face. The third is a big dog, almost the size of a Dane, but... not. He's not very smart. He's named barkmulch. Get it, cus- cus he barks- the fourth has gone unnamed. It's a furry little white thing, and it yaps at him a lot, nipping at his ankles anytime he enters the room. Behave, and it'll get a name.

There are a few cats that show up too. None of them have names except for one: Scraggle.

Scraggle is the ugliest fucking thing you can imagine. Scraggle is that shade of grey that white cats get when they're dirty, except you can't wash it off. The poor cat is missing patches of fur, and it seems permanent. It only has one eye. It's nose is flat, and gives it's face the illusion of a squished tomato. There's a scar going from it's whiskers, across it's nose and up to it's missing eye. Simon doesn't actually know what gender this cat is. It is only Scraggle.

Scraggle is also... very stupid, as far as cats go. It gets squished between the couch cushions, and yowls when Simon accidentally sits on him. How could he have seen him anyways? Scraggle screams when his food bowl is empty. Scraggle screams when everyone else's food bowls are empty. Scraggle screams when it manages to find it's way on top of the kitchen cabinets, and needs Simon's help to get down. Scraggle is a full time job when he's off duty.

Scraggle is his favorite.

He finds you in the rain.

Not nearly as run down as the rest of his animals, but just as lost.

Covered in scratches, blood, and muck, he finds you on the edge of his property, being screamed at by Scraggle, because it doesn't do much else.

Your clothes are torn, and you look a bit more haggard than you should. Wet, and cold, and hungry. Like you had missed a turn off the trails, or you were running away from them. From something.

You look up at him with wide eyes, but decide to trust him, to follow him like a lost creature, because he could not be worse than what you escaped from.

He makes soup. He gives you soup.

He's not the best conversationalist. He's not used to things he finds actually talking back to him in a language he can understand.

You tell him your name. He calls you Honey. You'll earn your name. Behave, you'll get it.

Scraggle is on thin ice with you. Attention stealer. Food giver. You get the cat down from places it shouldn't be. But Simon pays more attention to you than he does Scraggle. You fool. Scraggle is all. Scraggle is life.

You don't leave, much like the other things he feeds. You make yourself useful, because you're afraid of being turned out. If you're useful, then nothing will happen. And you go to bed every night warm with a full belly.

You're just another lost thing he's taken in. You don't leave when he disappears. You know he'll come back. He always does.

And he watches the cameras, while he's on a mission. He watches you diligently fill the bowls, the bird feeders, the waters, the bath. You trot out to the fish pond, and throw handfuls of feed out in the early hours of the night. Then you make your way back through the tall grass, and into the house.

Scraggle screams. You feed it too, and then pick it up. And carry it around like it's a little baby.

Hm. Maybe....

You were a sweet like honey, a pretty little thing. You weren't lost anymore. He'd found you, you're his now.

He'll take care of you.

Scraggle agrees. Scraggle likes you too.

masterlist

[demie90s]

More uconn x reader!!!! The team gets snowed in and has the day off. They build snowmen, have a snowball fight, drink hot cocoa, and it ends with a movie night. Lots of fluff, warmth, inside jokes, and someone falling asleep on someone’s shoulder

Snowed In, Spoiled Rotten

UConn WBB x fem!reader

MASTERLIST | MORE

Summary: Practice got canceled. Snow piled up. We built snowmen, had a snowball war, and drank too much hot cocoa.

Warnings: Pure fluff, team bonding, comfort, light physical affection, warmth

Word Count ~ 0.5k

We were supposed to have morning lifts. But when Ayanna threw open the dorm blinds and yelled, “AHT! It’s givin’ shut all this down!” we all knew what time it was.

Snow. Thick, fluffy, unforgiving snow. Covering campus like the season just declared war on hoop dreams.

Geno texted the group chat at 7:13 a.m.

Geno’s Favorite Set of Headaches😛

Practice canceled. Stay inside. Don’t get hurt. Don’t do anything dumb.

So naturally—by 7:45—we were outside, bundled like toddlers with no sense, already launching snowballs at each other.

Aubrey built the saddest excuse for a snowman anyone had ever seen. His eye was crooked, his body was lopsided, and KK named him “Lil Geno.” Paige said it looked like someone rolled a pile of laundry into the street and left it.

Nika showed up late wearing ski goggles and a bomber jacket like it was the Olympic Games. She immediately tackled Jana into a snowbank. Inês was crying laughing. Azzi screamed when someone threw snow down her back. I may have done that. No one can prove anything.

Ice pulled out her phone to document the madness—just in time to catch KK and Ice dragging a full trash can lid across the parking lot like a makeshift sled. They both ate shit and slid straight into a snow pile. Nobody helped. We were too busy screaming.

Eventually we gave up and went inside, cheeks pink, hands numb, breath fogging up the dorm lobby.

Caroline had already set up a cocoa station like this was The Great British Bake Off. Marshmallows. Whipped cream. Cinnamon. Azzi made hers look like a Pinterest post. Aubrey dumped so much cocoa powder in hers it looked like chocolate soup.

“I don’t trust light hot chocolate,” she said. “It gotta be dark or it ain’t real.”

We dragged every pillow and blanket from the dorm into the common room and turned it into a full-fledge nest. Paige took over the remote. Of course. Everyone booed. She picked a throwback rom-com anyway, so she stayed.

At some point, someone dimmed the lights. Nika was sprawled across one of the couches like a house cat. KK stretched across two beanbags with a hoodie pulled over her head, snoring by the first plot twist. Ice had a bowl of popcorn on her chest and didn’t move once.

Azzi ended up next to me, legs tucked under a blanket, shoulder warm against mine. She passed me one of those fancy little chocolate squares like it was contraband. I didn’t say anything. Just took it.

Somewhere near the end of the second movie, I felt her head lean into mine. Soft. Gentle. Not dramatic. Just… comfortable. Like we’d done this a hundred times. I didn’t move.

Outside, snow still fell. Slow and silent. Inside, the room was full of half-whispers, tired laughs, the low hum of a movie none of us were watching anymore.

By the time the credits rolled, half the team was asleep.

Someone snored. Someone kicked a blanket off. Someone whispered “shhh,” and got shushed back.

I didn’t say anything. I just looked around, smiled to myself, and leaned my head against hers.

Best day off we never planned.

@xxsnowxx213 @draculara-vonvamp @kcannon-1436-blog @zizi-bee-yapping @kaliblazin @perksofbeingatrex @soapyonaropey

[kurokawaia]

❛ His Happiness ❜

Tomioka Giyuu X Fem!Reader

WC; 1.3k+ | !MDNI! | TW/CW; no triggers really :), fluff, giyuus smile, his laugh, him being happy with his s/o

*ੈ✩‧₊˚𝑅𝐸𝒬𝒰𝐸𝒮𝒯 :: (FILLED REQUEST) HII i REALLY love ur work!! Could you please do Tomioka Giyuu with fem s/o who REALLY makes him laugh. Like, she would be the only one to know how to get a real chuckle out of him😈 (I die for serious/emotionless characters suddenly laughing and being all giggly and cute😭🖐🏼) - ANON

m.list | demon slayer m.list

You stretch and sit up, looking over to see Giyuu still sleeping peacefully beside you, his arm still over your lap. His usually serious face is slack in sleep, and you can't help but smile at how different he looks. Cute.

You slip out of bed carefully, trying not to wake him, and head to the kitchen to start some breakfast.

By the time the smell of rice cooking and miso soup wafts through the air, Giyuu starts to wake up and rises to the kitchen, hair a little ruffled, blinking rather sleepy-eyed at you.

"Good morning," you greet him.

You hand him a cup of tea, and he takes it out of your hands and takes a sip.

"Good morning," he says. "You're up early."

"Want to surprise you with breakfast," you say, warmth bubbling up in your chest with happiness.

You loved him so, so much, and yet here you were finally making him breakfast after all the years, work that, in the end, brought you together, but not in such a way as this.

You both sit down to eat, and you start yapping about things, random things, honestly. Giyuu listens, of course, he never talks, but he appreciates how your voice just soothes him, so really, he wouldn't mind if you talked his ear off. Actually, he finds comfort in your talking.

Giyuu and you decided to go for a walk around your shared estate together, wanting to enjoy how nice the day seemed to be. It was actually warm and sunny out today, even though it was in the middle of winter. You head out after breakfast.

Giyuu hefts himself up beside you. You had walked a little while before you passed a stream—one it took you only a moment to realize contained fish.

When walking, you come by a little, clear stream. Then, you get an idea that is sure to throw Giyuu off.

"Let's see who can catch the most fish," you challenge him.

Giyuu raises an eyebrow. "You sure?"

"Absolutely," you say as you roll up your sleeves, already preparing to get down and dirty. "I'm like the number one expert on this, you know."

Giyuu chuckles softly and shakes his head. "Okay, if you say

You both enter the shallow stream and feel the refreshing water cool against your skin. You focus intently, watching for the flicker of movement that signals a fish. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Giyuu moving with precision, his hand immediately sank deep into the water and came up with a fish.

"One," he says, holding it up for you to see before releasing it back into the water.

You huff playfully, determined to catch up. A few more attempts, and at last a small fish is caught by you. "Got one!"

Giyuu smiles, one of those rare but heartfelt ones that make your heart skip a beat. "Good job," he says, voice sincere.

Your hopeless attempts to catch fish and the reactions are making Giyuu laugh. You slip on a mossy rock once and sit in the water, letting out a yelp of surprise. Giyuu runs forward and helps you up.

"You're hopeless, love," he tells you as he offers a hand.

"Hey, it's harder than it looks," you protest as you take his hand and get back on your feet. You are soaked, but seeing Giyuu smile makes it all worthwhile.

"You always find a way to make things interesting," Giyuu says.

The same thing also happens for the rest of the day.

"You're the only one who can make me laugh like that," he admits quietly, his voice full of love.

That's good," you say, walking over to him and wrapping your arms around his waist. "Somehow, seeing you happy—it's like the best feeling on earth."

Giyuu pulls you close, resting his chin atop your head. "Just you bring out the best in me, I guess. Thank you for that."

You look up at him with so much love in your eyes, your heart almost bursting. "I'll always be here to make you laugh, Giyuu. No matter what."

Giyyu's arms tighten around you, his hold nearly painful. "I don't even know what I would do without you," he confesses, so soft that his voice is barely above a whisper. "You've become my anchor, the one constant I can count on."

You lean your head against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. "And you'll always have me," you assure him. "We'll face everything together, the good and the bad."

His hand moves to the back of your head, fingers gently threading through your hair. "I promise to protect you," he responds. "No matter what, I'll keep you safe."

You look back into his eyes, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. "Plus, I'll be here to support you. We're a damn good team, after all."

A rare, genuine smile spreads over Giyuu's lips, lighting up his features in such a way you almost forget to breathe. "We do," he agrees. "I never thought I'd find someone like you."

You reach up, his cheek cupped in your hand. "And I never thought I'd find someone who really seems to get what I'm saying," you murmur quietly. "You make everything better, Giyuu."

He leans into your touch and closes his eyes. "I'm so lucky to have you," he murmurs, opening his eyes.

You stand on your tiptoes, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. "We are both too lucky to have each other," you whisper against his lips. "And I wouldn't have it any other way."

Giyuu's lips curve with a small smile into yours, his firm hands embracing you tightly,. "I love you.," he says softly, with the kind of honesty in these words that sends your heart into a flutter.

"I love you too," you reply. "More than words can express." You pause for a moment. "And if you ever decide to leave me, just remember, I know where you sleep and I can tie some pretty strong knots."

Giyu's eyes widened slightly, a sweatdrop forming on his temple as he then looked at you in surprise. "Only you would say something like that," he says.

"Well, it's true," you say, poking him lightly in the chest. "But don't worry, I'm pretty sure you're stuck with me forever."

Giyuu smiles, and he likes that and brings you a little closer to press his forehead against yours. "Wouldn't have it any other way," he says. "Just… maybe go easy on the death threats."

You laugh. "No promises," you say teasingly. "But I'll try."

"You're impossible," he says.

He nods. "Yes, I do," he says quietly. "I love you more than anything."

Do not copy, steal, modify, etc. Relogs and like are appreciated.

m.list| demon slayer m.list

i hope this was okay :) it was hard not to make it too ooc

[mizu-archive]

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹Reminiscence ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹

(this is my first time posting a fic ) ( eng is not my first lang so yeah)

CHAPTER : 1

Dante x f!reader

Vergil x f!reader(platonic)

⋆˙⟡ —

Events take place after Dmc 5.

Dante and Vergil return back to Devil May Cry after slaying all the demons back at hell. Everything goes back to normal as the twins prepare themselves to face Mundus as their next challenge. Vergil tries to settle down to a more human lifestyle (w a lil struggle).

Reader is Dante and Vergil's childhood bestfriend and stayed with Dante after the fire at the Sparda house. Vergil feels a bit at ease w reader since she always understood him. Reader and Dante have been dating since dmc2.

Summary : Dante while fighting a demon, underestimates it and quickly and is put in a tricky situation, luckily Vergil is there to help his brother but the aftermath of it is entirely different as he never expected his younger brother to turn into his 8 yr old annoying self lying on the ground unconscious. What will u do when your boyfriend is suddenly the most sugar high energetic kid in the world?...

Warnings: none

. ✦ . 　୨୧ ⁺

It was around 7 in the evening when Kyrie and Nero arrived at the Devil May Cry Shop as you had invited them over for dinner. Trish and Lady were always ready for some delicious food , same for Patty, Morrison and Nico. Vergil was perched on Dante's chair reading a novel of some kind ( you knew it was romance but he would deny it anyway) when Nero and Kyrie arrived along with the others. Everyone settled in and small conversations started among them as they chatted about what they had been upto since the last month. " Hey where's Dante?" Nero asked out of curiosity. Before Morrison could answer Nero, Vergil beat him to it. " He's over town down near the lake" he stated blatantly and resumed his reading as Nero raised a questioning eyebrow at him. " Some man came by telling his kid went missing near the lake while playing and hired Dante for it , although he wasn't interested at first he folded the moment he saw a briefcase full of loaded cash on the table, the man must've been desperate to find his son but, alas..." Morrison said out aloud feeling remorse for the man that his kid would have been eaten by the demon most likely by now. " Well I'll be taking a portion out of that briefcase if u don't mind cause that dumbass still hasn't settled my debt." Lady said smiling while referring to Dante's debt yet to be paid to her. " He's gonna throw a fit when he gets home, I can already imagine him screaming atop his lungs" you said laughing with the others as you emerged from the kitchen holding a spatula dripping with the residue of whatever u were cooking. " Don't worry we'll coax him out of it by buying him pizza." Trish said while flicking through the tv to play something nice. Everyone agreed as they laughed ( expect Vergil he was more keen on reading his romance novel hehehe).

You were pouring some water into a pan when Vergil strided in the kitchen. " Need some help ?" He questioned in a gruff voice while glancing around . " Oh it's okay, Kyrie is already helping me with the chopping." " I ,see... When is Dante coming back." He asked sparring a glance at Kyrie cutting some carrots along with Nero yapping to her witha lovesick look." Well he should be home by now, one sec." You said fiddling with your phone in one hand while you were stirring the soup with the other. Dialing Dante's number you crossed your fingers secretly that he had paid his phone bills and sighed with relief when you heard it ring as you placed your phone between your shoulder and your ear while you busied yourself with cooking. Vergil leaned against the counter letting out a slow exhale. It was on the 7th ring that Dante picked up . " I-I ~huff~ aghhh, fuck you , h-hey babe I - kin--a caugh-- up! ~arghhh y-ou so--n o-f a b-bitch !" Dante screamed out although it was incorrigible as his voice broke off mid sentences due to the bad signal . Vergil could hear Dante's strangled voice even through the faint cackling of the tv playing in the background as he saw you visibly tense. " Huh?! Dante ?! What happened?!? I can't hear you? Are you okay?!?" You asked panicking as you dropped everything you were doing down on the counter. Vergil straightened up and followed you to the the living room as you put the phone on speaker after turning off the stove. " Hey , hey ! Dante can you hear me are you alright ?!?! You asked furrowing your brows as everyone's attention now turned to your panicked state and the phone in your hand. There was no response on the other line when suddenly the call cut out with a strangled groan. By this Everyone were anxious for Dante, before anyone could make a move Vergil spoke up the while picking up yamato and slicing a hole through the fabric of reality " I'm going after him." He said in a stern tone. Everyone knew no one could stop him besides it was best that he went, if he can't save his brother then who can. " Be safe alright." You said as vergil was about to step to the other side. Vergil gave a curt nod only turning his head enough for his side profile to be visible before he entered the portal.

. ✦ . 　୨୧ ⁺

Note: well this is my first time writing a fic and I hope you enjoyed reading this and please don't hesitate to correct me or state out my mistakes as english is not my first language, I've also not played the games but ik the whole lore. Will be updating the other chapters soon :)

[swatch-ful]

It feels like every song I listen to could be an art piece with HMS/HMSW somehow and now I feel like I have a whole line of art concepts waiting to be made. I’m being ambushed.

“I’m only a chapter of your story, but you are every page of mine” ok Soulwhole get to the back of the line. people are waiting.

[misteria247]

I like to imagine that when they were young Ford was the twin that got sick a lot more than Stan. So whenever he'd feel ill, Stanley would stay by his twin's side, talking to him and taking care of him by doing little things. Like get him blankets or try to make him soup (under Caryn's watchful, fond eye of course). And he wouldn't leave till Ford was better despite his father's obvious disapproval.

And then they get older and go through everything they've been through and have to in a way get to know one another once more.

It's during this time that it becomes clear that the roles of catching a illness are now reversed. Ford, having traveled through multiple dimensions and worlds, had gotten stronger in the immune system area. So common colds and illnesses aren't so easily caught anymore as they were when he was a boy. Stanley on the other hand....

He catches them surprisingly quickly.

Due to being essentially alone in the woods for 30 years working yourself to the bone doesn't really do a body any favors as you get older. And Stanley being a walking, talking workaholic in some way, has made him more vulnerable to getting sick. And the kicker, he completely denies it when he catches something. Basically working through it, despite needing the rest sorely.

So when Ford learns this, he makes it his personal mission to become Stanley's caretaker. It involves a lot of grumbling and complaining from the younger twin, but due to being sick he can't put up too much of a fight. And Ford takes full advantage of it. He wraps Stanley up in blankets and warm clothing, keeping a close on him. He reads to him or talks to him, generally keeping his brother company throughout it. Ford will also make soups and other light foods, (all learned from watching his ma cook for them whenever one of them was sick back when he was small).

And it'll be during one of those days where Stanley's sick, that Ford and him are curled up on a couch or in a bed. And Ford will be talking about one of his more fun adventures in his travels in a soft soothing voice, that he'll feel Stan's head gently slump onto his shoulder. Ford pauses, looking down at his twin and seeing him relaxed despite the obvious sickness clinging to him. And he'll flashback to when they were small. Curled up in their blanket fort, surrounded by blankets and pillows and comics. And he'll remember how he'd listen to Stanley yap away in a quieter voice, talking about his day at school while Ford had recovered from being sick. And how comfortable and safe and content he felt being with his best friend and much like the present, Ford would drift off against Stanley. Feeling at ease enough to do so.

Those memories hit him, filled with warmth and love and safety, and he'll see Stanley fast asleep on him in the current moment. And it hits him.

Stanley trusts and finds comfort in Stanford. Just as Stanford had and still does with Stanley.

Fighting the lump in his throat he gives Stan a smile and a soft "Sleep well knucklehead." Before laying his head on Stanley's and falling asleep with in. Warm and happy with his best friend and favorite brother once more.

[erimeows]

Caretaker

Roy feels unsure as he holds his fist up to the wooden door of Riza’s apartment, his gloved hand hovering over the center. In his other hand, a bag from Panda House- her favorite takeout spot- dangles from his fingers. The pleasant aroma of egg drop soup and grilled chicken wafts faintly from the bag, but it’s no comfort against the growing unease curling in his stomach.

Roy knows that, for a long time, their relationship has been far from strictly professional. Riza is his closest confidant and his best friend. So, when he was told earlier that morning that she had called in sick- a rarity in the many years they’ve spent working together- he knew he couldn’t just ignore it. 

Throughout the lonely work day, he convinced himself it would only be right to drop by her apartment after his shift at eastern headquarters ended to check in on her and make sure she’s still able to eat well. Now that he’s here, food in hand, dressed in a t-shirt and joggers, he’s unsure of whether or not this is what he should be doing with his evening.

He hesitates, glancing over his shoulder at the quiet hallway to make sure that no one is watching him. It’s getting late, and the thought of someone seeing him here tugs at the corner of his mind. Fraternization laws loom over him and his feelings for his subordinate like an ever-present shadow, but the worry fades as quickly as it arrives. He’s not here for anything improper. He’s here because she matters to him; because there’s no one left to look after her. 

Still, he hesitates, because while he knows he could handle anyone else’s reaction to this, he’s not so sure about his ability to handle Riza’s. Riza is fiercely guarded, even with him. He’s seen her face battlefields without so much as a flinch, always calm, always composed. Vulnerability isn’t something she shows easily- not even to him- not in a very long time. Will she be mad at him for dropping by like this unannounced when he knows she’s going to be at her worst? She had to have been doing awful this morning to call in. 

After standing in front of her door for an embarrassingly long few minutes, Roy figures that, even if she is upset at him for showing up while she’s sick, the comfort of knowing she’s okay will be worth whatever she can throw at him. So, Roy knocks on the door. Black Hayate immediately starts yapping- behind the door, Roy hears the sound of his tiny footsteps followed by the sound of his paws scratching at the door, but Riza still doesn’t answer. 

The seconds stretch painfully long. He glances at his watch, watching the second hand tick once, twice, thrice. A full two minutes pass, and he begins to think she’s either asleep or too unwell to answer. Just as he steps back to leave, the door creaks open.

“Lieutenant,” He greets, his voice coming out a little softer than he intended for it to.

“Sir,” Riza addresses him formally even though they’re alone, a habit that Roy suspects will never die- and, quite frankly, she looks like shit. 

Her once neat, golden blond hair is frizzy and oily, loosely tied into a messy ponytail to keep it away from her face. Her cheeks are flushed a hot pink while the rest of her face is sickly pale, and her forehead is covered in a thin sheen of sweat. She’s wearing an oversized button up and a pair of baggy pajama pants. Whether she’s embarrassed or surprised, Roy isn’t sure, but she hides most of her body behind the door upon realizing that it’s him, peeking her head out to analyze his expression with her tired eyes. 

“Are you alright?” He asks as Black Hayate slips out the door to sit at his feet and sniff his legs. 

“Did something happen?” She questions, her voice hoarse and dry as she changes the subject from her unfortunate condition. “Why are you here?”

“It’s unlike you to call in sick, lieutenant, that’s all,” Roy answers before she can worry too much. Though it would be just their luck for an emergency to happen on the one day she calls in, today was actually pretty normal, if not boring. He notes the slight tension in her brow, the way her lips press together as if suppressing an apology for being unwell. “I thought I should come check on you.”

“Right,” Riza clears her throat, wincing at the strain of the action. It’s evident that the action is painful. “Well, as much as I appreciate your concern, sir, I’m just fine. I’ll be back in tomorrow or the next day, so you don’t need to worry about finding coverage for me again-”

“You are not coming back to work tomorrow,” Roy interjects, able to see just how sick she is. “You have to rest at home to get better. Coming into the office like this will only make you sick for longer.”

“But sir, I’m alright,” Riza tries to argue, but while Roy would normally entertain it, he doesn’t this time.

“Clearly not,” He argues back, shaking his head and placing a hand on the outside doorknob. “I’m coming in.”

“What? This place is a mess-” 

“I don’t care,” Roy walks past the door and into Riza’s small apartment, taking his boots off at the entryway and leaving them beside the row of shoes lined up beside Riza’s welcome mat. Black Hayate follows him closely. He shuts the door, locking it behind him, and tries his best to ignore the way Riza is rushing around to pick up the apartment; a stack of papers on the coffee table in the living room, a discarded pair of panties and a large t-shirt off of the floor. He can’t, however, ignore the sound of running water in the kitchen. He enters the room to see that the sink is full of soapy water and about to overflow. That must’ve been why she took so long to answer the door. “Were you… Doing dishes?”

“Yes,” Riza calls out, and then follows him into the kitchen.

“I can’t believe you’re cleaning when you’re this sick,” Roy chastises and reaches forward to turn off the faucet before it can overflow onto the counter and floor. “Have you even eaten anything?”

“No,” Riza shakes her head and takes the bag of food from Roy’s hands, setting it on the kitchen table. “I tried this morning, but I wasn’t able to keep anything down.”

“How about water?” Roy questions, to which Riza grimaces. 

“Not much luck there either. In fact, trying to drink water only made it worse.”

“That bad, huh?”

“...I suppose so,” Riza shrugs, leaning back against the kitchen counter and crossing her arms over her chest. “I did go to the doctor to get checked out after I called in this morning. He gave me some medicine to take; anti-nausea and some pain meds. He said it’s just a stomach bug that’s been going around and that I should be fine within a couple days.”

“You should’ve called me personally to let me know…”

“It’s not as if I’m dying.”

And instead of saying ‘I still worry about you’ like he wants to, Roy says-

“Sit down and try to eat some of the food I brought. I’ll finish the dishes.”

“Sir, you really don’t have to do that, I’m perfectly capable of-”

“You. Are. Sick. Sit down- that’s an order, lieutenant.”

Riza smiles and rolls her eyes at him, but sits down at the kitchen table and unpacks the food. 

“Hopefully this anti-nausea my doctor prescribed has kicked in. I’m starving,” Riza hums and opens the bowl of egg drop soup, picking at it with a plastic spoon. Roy takes off his gloves, pocketing them before grabbing a sponge and beginning to wash the dirty dishes. “How was work today?”

“Boring. The office felt so… Empty without you there,” Roy admits, thinking back to the workday. When Falman told him that Riza would be absent, his heart had dropped and shattered into tiny little pieces within his chest in a way that he didn’t know it could. The day was painfully boring without Riza to talk to. “I’d rather talk about you.”

“My day’s been rather boring as well, so unless you want to hear about the gruesome details of me being hunched over my toilet bowl…”

“Right,” Roy laughs. “What should we talk about instead, then?”

“We don’t have to talk,” Riza responds. “I enjoy your company as is.”

“Right…” 

So, they stay in Riza’s kitchen, silent besides the sounds of the scrub being brushed against Riza’s dishes and gentle slurp of Riza drinking her soup. When Roy finishes washing the dishes, he dries them off and puts them away in Riza’s kitchen cabinets before sitting down at the table with her to eat his food.

Something about this is so… Domestic, from his shoes being left behind at her door, to him being able to wash her dishes, to them sitting alone at her kitchen table like this on a regular evening, eating together with Black Hayate napping between them on the floor.

They eat in comfortable silence, broken only by the occasional cough from Riza or the rustle of a napkin. The air feels warm and easy despite Riza’s condition. As Roy watches her pick at her soup, he feels a pang of something he can’t quite name. A longing, maybe. Or perhaps gratitude- for moments like this, fleeting but meaningful. 

“You don’t have to stay here, you know,” Riza murmurs after a while. “You checked on me like you wanted. I’m sure you have better things to do with your evening, so whenever you want to go...”

Roy leans back in his chair, watching as Riza’s expression shifts with something he’s not used to seeing; uncertainty. This, he decides, is where he belongs tonight.

“I’m exactly where I need to be,” Roy replies, meeting her gaze. “You look like you could use a caretaker for the night, anyway.”

Riza raises an eyebrow at that.

“What, like you’re going to stay the night here?”

“Why not? No one saw me come in,” Roy shrugs. “I’ll clean the rest of the house, pick up more medicine if you need it, hold your hair for you while you puke… You know, the romantic stuff.”

“Well, if you insist… I guess I wouldn’t mind your company.”

“It’s settled, then.”

~

After cleaning up the kitchen and finishing their quiet meal, the evening wears on, and the fatigue etched into Riza’s face grows more pronounced. Roy glances at his watch. It’s late, and the unspoken question of what happens next hangs heavy in the air.

Riza stands from where they’re sitting on the living room couch and reaches into the small paper bag on the coffee table to pull out two pill bottles. She opens them both, fishing out a tablet from each and taking them with a sip of water. There’s a slight nervous energy in the air that Roy can’t quite shake. 

“You should go get some rest,” He says, breaking the silence. “I’ll be here.”

Riza crosses her arms, leaning against the back of the chair. 

“You don’t really plan on sleeping on the couch, do you?” She asks.

“Unless you’d rather me on the floor,” He teases.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re not going to fit on that couch, and you know it.”

“I’ve slept in worse places,” Roy shrugs, waving off her concern. “I can handle one night on the couch.”

“I didn’t let you stay with the intention of you leaving with a back injury,” Her tone softens, but there’s a firmness in it that allows no argument. She looks toward her bedroom door and then back at him, hesitating before speaking. “You can sleep in the bed.”

He blinks. 

“I’m not kicking you out of your own bed while you’re sick. That’s just evil.”

“I wasn’t suggesting you do,” She replies, holding his gaze. Her cheeks flush slightly- whether from fever or embarrassment, he’s not sure. “It’s big enough for two. And it’s not like this is the first time we’ve been close.”

Roy stares at her, caught somewhere between disbelief and something warmer. He opens his mouth to argue but thinks better of it. She’s right, and probably not in the mood to argue with him while she’s ill. Still, the idea of sharing her bed feels… Intimate in a way he isn’t sure he’s prepared for. They slept together in a tent a handful of times in Ishval, but that was… Different. There, they were wartorn and desperate for comfort and Roy’s only other option was rooming with Solf J. Kimblee. Here, they’re in Riza’s apartment and Roy could turn around and go home to his own bed if he really wanted to. 

“Alright,” He agrees, scratching the back of his neck. “If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure,” Riza answers simply, already heading toward the bedroom.

Roy follows her, glancing around her room as he steps inside. It’s a bit of a mess, which he expects after having seen the rest of her apartment today. There’s a few personal touches- books stacked on the nightstand and a small framed photo of her and Black Hayate on the wall make it feel distinctively hers. She grabs an extra pillow from her closet, fluffs it, and tosses it onto the bed.

“You take the left,” She says, climbing into the right side and pulling the blanket over herself. Black Hayate pads into the room, hops onto the bed, and curls up against the small of Riza’s back. “Goodnight, sir.”

Roy chuckles softly as he settles in beside her, keeping a careful distance. 

“Goodnight, Lieutenant.”

The room falls quiet. The only sounds are the faint hum of traffic outside and Riza’s steady breathing. Despite his initial unease about this, Roy feels a strange sense of calm. The day’s worries slip away, replaced by the quiet comfort of being close to her.

~

Hours later, the calm shatters.

Roy wakes to the sound of retching; something loud and painful and so not Riza that it fills his chest with a pang of concern. He bolts upright, disoriented for a moment, before realizing the bed beside him is empty. The muffled sound of vomiting comes from the bathroom connected to the bedroom.

“Riza,” He calls before he can think better of it, slipping out of bed and moving quickly toward the noise. They’re past the point of formal titles 24/7, though he doubts she heard him regardless. “You okay?”

Roy reaches the bathroom and knocks on the door once, then twice. When Riza doesn’t answer, he goes ahead and opens it. He finds her hunched over the toilet, her hands gripping the edge of the bowl as she dry-heaves miserably. The sight tugs at his chest.

“Roy,” Riza groans. The toilet bowl is full of remnants of their dinner mixed with stomach acid and water. Beside it is a flurry of used tissues, covered in spit and vomit. “Go back to bed.”

Roy shakes his head, kneeling down beside her as she retches again. With one hand, he rubs her back, and with the other, he holds her hair away from her face. 

“Hey,” He says softly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

She shakes her head, but she’s too weak to really protest. The effort she’s putting into just staying upright is heartbreaking.

When the worst of it passes, Riza slumps back against the bathroom wall, her eyes glassy and tired. 

“I’m sorry,” She murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Don’t apologize,” Roy says firmly, grabbing a washcloth from the bathroom cabinet and running it under cool water. He kneels in front of her, pressing the damp cloth to her forehead. “You can’t control this.”

She closes her eyes, leaning into the sensation. 

“This is humiliating.”

“It’s not. You’d do the same for me,” He counters. “You’re sick, Riza. Let me help. You’re not going to get better all by yourself.”

Hesitantly, Riza agrees.

“...Okay.”

Roy stands, filling a glass of water and crouching beside her again. 

“Try to drink a little.”

She grimaces but takes a small sip, grim determination written across her face. When it stays down, she sighs in relief.

“Thank you,” Riza’s lips quirk upward faintly, but exhaustion quickly overtakes her. Roy helps her to her feet, steadying her as they shuffle back to the bedroom. “You didn’t have to do all this.”

Roy shakes his head as he tucks her back into bed, climbing in beside her.

“I know… But I wanted to.”

“Well… Thank you.”

“Any time,” He smiles. “Now, let’s go back to sleep. Unlike you, I still have to go to work in the morning.”

Surprisingly enough, Riza turns to face Roy, scooting closer to him. Roy moves a couple inches forward, and then a couple more. Before either of them have the time to think about the consequences, Roy wraps his arms around Riza to pull her even closer, allowing her to snuggle up against his chest. 

“Goodnight,” She says. 

“Goodnight, Riza.”

[bwoahtastic]

What I think sickfic dynamic would be in the tattoo verse:

Max is sick

Oscar: sits in bed with him and sketches while max lays his head on Oscar’s lap and pretends he’s just resting his eyes for a moment. Oscar will get up every hour or so and make a pot of tea for himself knowing full well max will drink half of it.

Charles: dressed up in a sexy nurse costume and mother hens max until max is bullied into bed to “escape” Charles being annoying. He also threatens to call every single one of max’s appointments for the next week an cancel if max doesn’t take his medicine.

Lando: is a little shy and unsure, listens to max’s grumbling too much and let’s max scare him away until max comes slinking back to him.

Lando is sick

Oscar: is the the one to call in sick for lando because the bakery is his first love and as much as everyone will give max shit for not taking a break lando can be just as bad. Makes lando take his medicine which is more of an ordeal than it should be because he hates the taste of anything that doesn’t come in gummy form.

Charles: tries his hardest to make lando laugh because he doesn’t like that when lando’s sick he tends to go quiet and self contained and also because he swears that laughter is the best medicine (to which Oscar says that medicine is the best medicine).

Max: is an absolute fusser despite hating it when he’s sick, especially with lando because he has a routine now with Charles and Oscar, knows what they need but with lando he’s still working it out which results in a lot of nervous hovering and a lot of cooking.

Charles is sick

Oscar: will depending on how sick Charles is (he does love being dramatic and can be a bit of a hypochondriac) Oscar will either set up a little art space for them and they’ll paint together quietly or Charles will drape himself dramatically over the couch/bed/oscars lap and ask to be doodled on.

Lando: brings him back sweet treats from the cafe but more importantly brings back all the gossip, the thing Charles hates most is being out of the loop so lando coming home with detailed notes about every silly thing that happened makes him so happy.

Max: will tempt needle (the cat) into laying on top of Charles, normally needle doesn’t spend all the much time with Charles honestly because he’s usually always on the move but max is needles favourite person so needle will curl up on Charles chest while max curls himself around Charles. He also force feeds Charles green juice and vitamin boosters because he doesn’t think Charles has willingly eaten a vegetable maybe ever.

Oscar is sick

Lando: will run a bath for Oscar then sit next to him and yap his ear off about anything, new recipes he’s been trying, what him and Charles are planning for the weekend, literally anything all while tracing along oscar’s tattoos

Max: will make Oscar the chicken soup his mom used to make him when he was young (recipe directly from Nicole), he brings one of his gaming monitors into the bedroom so Oscar can stay lying down and they marathon cheesy 2000s romcom’s until Oscar (and Sometiems max) falls alseep

Charles: makes Oscar a little care package with a bunch of hydrolyte, essential oils that Charles swears by (lando will use them in the bath’s he makes for Oscar), some new herbal tea he had imported despite not liking tea himself, he also included a new flavoured lube and condoms which he slipped in totally by accident.

Pls i love long asks like this😭😭

Sick Max:

Plss Osc knowing how annoyingly independent Max tries to be even when he isnt feeling good! Pls Max just miserable, head in Oscar's lap as Oscar doodles and Max rasps out comments and nnggg Osc pretending to make tea for himself while it's really for Max!!! My babies 😭

Charles in his little nurse outfit skdkd I mean Max appreciates the view bur Charles is a little bit annoying so Max goes to hide in his room (or maybe in osc's?) And falls asleepcin bed just as Charles hoped!

Lando being unsure how to help Max but Max really wants Lando close? Yeah he grumbles and rolls his eyes, but he keeps going back to Lando, wanting him cuddled close!!

Lando

Plss osc making sure everyone knows Lando isnt coming into work and maybe helping find someone to cover cos Lando is the boss but also too feverish to be calling around his staff rn. And lando hating medication so much, he doesn't like the flavors but also maybe he is very bad at swallowing pills? But osc is patient and will make it work somehow!!

Lando being so quiet and unsure when he isnt feeling good, and Charles hates it! Charles tones down the chaos but does his very best to make Lando laugh, and also just hangs around to keep him company as much as possible!

Max would be such a fusser omg!! He isn't sure how to help lando but there is a LOT of baking and cooking involved and maybe he helps at the bakery for a few hours to cover for Lando? Cute grumpy man!

Charles

Plss Oscar being so patient with Charlie! Sometimes Charles just gets in his head about smthn or maybe he does get colds quite often and hates it! Pls the two of them painting and drawing and when charlws is really not feeling good, Oscar draws patterns on Charles's skin? Pls so cute and Charles will love them+

Lando coming with sweet treats and drinks and all the gossip of the day (he made notes, it was a lot!) And Charles loves listening to it all so he feels like he didn't actually miss out on anything!!

Plss Max getting Needle the cat to snuggle Charles because Needle doesn't mind Charles, it's just that Charles moves roo much most of the time lol. But Max for sure is Needle's fav human (sorry osc) so Needle can be convinced to snuggle with them both if Max asks! Also Max forcefeeding Charles smoothies and veggies, but giving him many kisses as reward too to make it better!

Oscar

Pls baths helping Osc so much when he isnt well? And Lando sits with him just yapping away and tracing Osc's tattoos and gently helping wash his hair! It's the only time osc let's himself be pampered!

Plss Max making Nicole's chicken soup (Oscar is a little afraid hearing Max snd his mum are in contact but okay) and watching bad movies used to be their thing when one of them was feeling iff? And now they have their two chaotic partners but it's still nice to fall asleep together watching dumb movies!

Pls Charles going home with a foil wrapped basket full of goodies for Osc! A lot of electrolytes and teas, bur also essential oils and OOP the lubes are just an accident but maybe sex will make him feel better!

[goldenlikedayl1ght]

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

2:24

Attachment: One Image’

The look of Peter in his suit makes your heart melt.

‘Sugar

2:26

you look very handsome, pete <3’

‘Bug Boy

2:26

Aw, thank you, sugar. Do I get a photo of you or do I have to wait?’

‘Sugar

2:27

nope! gotta wait.’

‘Bug Boy

2:30

: (‘

‘Bug Boy

2:33

How are your hearing aids feeling?’

‘Sugar

2:35

good! they’re helping with all the commotion. i’m glad i got them before the wedding’

‘Bug Boy

2:36

Me too. I love you. See you soon?’

‘Sugar

2:37

see you soon <3 i love you.’

 You wear all black, as per her request, and you ask her a few days before if it’s okay if you wear your hearing aids, mostly because you don’t want the attention on you if you must answer a bunch of questions about your hearing aids.

But she’s more than happy to have you wear them, especially if it means you can hear everything that’s happening, and that your ears won’t ring.

The gold hearing aid jewelry goes well with your outfit, and you’re anxious to see Peter again—You’ve been so busy getting ready and helping your sister get ready that you haven’t given him a chance to see your fancy new outfit.

Just before the ceremony, as your sister is having her first look with her soon to be husband, you manage to sneak away, finding Peter mingling with your extended family, enjoying a drink, and eating some appetizers. Your spider boy and his appetite.

You tap on his shoulder when he’s alone, and he turns and quite literally gasps at the sight of you.

“Look what we have here,” he hummed, his hands running down the sides of your outfit. Then, he puts his drink down and begins to sign while speaking, “You look gorgeous. Your jewelry looks lovely.” He grins.

You blush, before signing back, “You don’t think it looks weird or clunky?”

“No,” He shakes his head, “You’re glowing,” he tells you, leaning into place a soft kiss on your lips.

“I love you,” You sign, “Do you want this?”

Your question catches him off guard, and he signs back,

“What?”

“This,” You gesture to the area around you. “A big wedding.”

His answer is simple but effective—

“I want whatever kind of wedding you want.”

“Even if I want big obnoxious flowers and a big ugly pastry gown?”

“Even if you want all that. Although..” He trails off, shrugging his shoulders.

“Although?” You question.

“I always imagined you in something simple. Something that shows off your features, not outshines them… And now, your little stars and hearing aids to go along with it..” He hums, grinning at your reddening face. “And pink tulips.”

“Pink tulips?”

“To go with the white roses.” He hums. You never really thought of Peter as a guy to have dreams and plans for his wedding, but he’s full of surprises. You know that better than anybody else.

“I love you.” You say softly, leaning up and pressing a soft kiss to his lips. On your side, the flash of a light goes off and you start to giggle when you realize that one of the many photographers your sister has hired, and you realize that the photos of you and Peter will forever be known as from your sister’s wedding when you were just dating.

“I love you,” he hums as he holds up the sign for it. “How much time do you have before the ceremony starts?”

“Twenty minutes?”

“..Plenty of time.” He has this wicked grin on his face. Your face flushes, before you take his hand, letting him drag you off to a quiet corner of the venue.

“You better not ruin my hair or my makeup, spider boy.”

“I’ll be nice and gentle- I can be mean and rough later.”

“Peter Parker, I swear to god—”

He cuts you off by pressing you against the wall of an elevator, and as the door closes, he runs his fingers over your hearing aids, before pressing another kiss to your lips.

[peachglazewrites]

𝚖𝚎𝚕 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚜 𖧧 𝚝𝚕𝚘𝚞

a/n: I got requested for some Mel stuff and I cannot express to you how excited I am to be writing more about her!!! Mel has quickly taken over my life, and I find myself thinking of her often. she plays a really big part of my longfic, dream of us in a year, so I've already had to spend a lot of time expanding on her character.

but here you go! a proper list of all my little Mel headcanons. we don't have a lot to work on, so a lot of this comes from my own analysis of the game and other characters, plus some things i think would be fun.

please be respectful and lovely when interacting! Mel isn't everyone's favourite, but she's one of mine, and I'd love to share with you what makes her special to me.

thank you!! ♡︎

word count: 1.5k (i like to yap about her leave me alone!!!)

𖧧 Her full name is Melanie Jacobs ♡︎ She never EVER goes by her full name unless she has to, to the point where people have forgotten that her name isn't just Mel.

𖧧 Mel is just as stubborn as Abby. When she gets her mind set on something, that’s it—there’s no talking her out of it. Well, there is, but you’ll have to deal with her letting you know how displeased she is, how she would much rather be doing XYZ than whatever she’s doing now.

𖧧 Mel and Abby are actually similar in a lot of ways, more than anyone thinks. They used to be a lot closer when they were younger, and for good reasons. They had similar ideals and goals, but also humour. Mel can be just as sarcastic and dry as Abby, which is one of the things that drew Abby to her in the first place.

𖧧 Mel has a rebellious streak that she’s managed to tame in her adulthood, but she still likes to indulge. It’s part of the reason why she likes going to the aquarium so much. Yes, she thinks it’s beautiful and she loves spending the time with Owen, but it reminds her of when she was with the Fireflies—how she used to sneak off base to explore the city surrounds, or tiptoe out of the barracks to attend late-night get togethers with a bunch of the other teens.

𖧧 Alice and Mel bonding so deeply wasn’t actually meant to happen. Mel is a medic, so while she does go out on patrol and has use for the dogs, she’s not out there as often as the other soldiers. But after getting ambushed on a patrol and forced to hide out in a gas station, she spent the time waiting for backup to arrive tending to Alice who had been shot. It wasn’t fatal, and she might have been fine without intervention, but Mel helped anyways.

Since then, Alice has always been much more receptive to Mel than anyone else. Not that she wouldn’t listen to commands, or that she wasn’t brilliantly trained—but the way those two work together is unlike anything else.

𖧧 Mel’s been pulled up once or twice for treating Alice too much like a pet, that she needs to remember the balance between work and play when it comes to these dogs. But they’re quickly silenced when Mel runs through a series of commands with Alice, all silent and based on the smallest of hand gestures.

𖧧 Mel refuses to let anyone do her laundry for her. She knows there are people whose entire jobs are to do the base’s laundry, but she says it makes her feel bad. She also just prefers the routine, the mundanity of going down and doing it herself. And if her clothes come out smelling nicer than everyone else’s, almost like they’ve been washed with a hint of lavender, that’s her business and not theirs.

𖧧 Mel’s actually a pretty picky eater! She hates when her foods are too liquidy, so she refuses to eat soup and will hand her broth from her stews of noodles to other people once she’s done eating the solids out of them. She’s also not a fan of carrots, or when food has too many different textures.

She’d never allow herself to be picky like this while with the Fireflies, and definitely not while the Salt Lake Crew were marching towards Seattle, but now that she has the luxury of abundance, she lets herself have her likes and dislikes.

𖧧 Along the same vein, she’s also allergic to shellfish! She can still eat fish, but things like crabs, prawns, and octopus she cannot have.

𖧧 Mel has a really romantic heart. She will swoon over grand gestures and proclamations of love, even if PDA makes her feel embarrassed. She thinks that there’s still plenty of space in a world like this to love and be loved in return. She will make time to indulge in date nights and romantic evenings.

𖧧 Her love languages are physical touch and acts of service. She is always placing a hand on someone’s shoulder, hugging them to her chest, holding their hand, etc. She doesn’t even notice she’s doing it half the time.

She also goes out of her way to do things she knows her loved ones will enjoy or appreciate. A lot of it manifests in sewing up clothing, her medic hands steady and used to suturing.

𖧧 Mel is also a killer when it comes to gifts. Others seem to forget how connected Mel is to everyone on base, which comes with the territory of being a medic. People feel like they owe her favours, which she doesn’t use for anything except for asking them to keep an eye out for things while outside base. She still finds a way to pay them back, though.

She also gets discounts down at the markets, which once again she rarely uses unless the stallholders are especially insistent.

𖧧 Her favourite colour is purple. She has no big reason for it, she just likes it. It becomes a thing for her though, having multiple purple clothing items in her wardrobe. Someone left a purple clipboard for her to use at work one day, which soon came with a matching purple pen.

𖧧 Spit really grosses her out. She can handle blood, vomit, all sorts of other fluids that no one should have to deal with—but spit or mucus? Absolutely not. It has her holding back a gag, sometimes even having to excuse herself for a moment to dry heave in private before coming back in.

𖧧 Mel was offered a promotion of sorts, something higher up in the chain that would give her a lot more responsibility, but she declined. She was grateful and very honoured, but she didn’t want the extra responsibility if it meant she wouldn’t be on the floor as much. Her priority here is to help people, to tend to the wounded and care for the sick. She appreciates the offer, but she’d much rather be doing long hard shifts like this than anything else.

𖧧 Mel says she doesn’t care what the baby is, but she secretly hopes that it’s a girl. She couldn’t tell you why, she has no actual reason, and when the baby comes and it turns out to be a boy, she will forget she ever had a preference. But she always defaults to calling the baby she, even when she doesn’t realise it.

𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚜𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚜𝚊𝚍𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚜 :')

𖧧 Her and Nora were together when the attack on the hospital happened. They were hiding out in one of the doctor's offices, huddled under a desk together. They could hear everything as Joel passed through, and stayed hiding there for hours afterwards. They’ve been especially close since then, a bond tying them together.

𖧧 Nora was slightly more trained than Mel by the time the attack happened, so there were still some things that Jerry had yet to, and would never end up teaching Mel. Nora sat with Mel after everything, during their trip to Seattle, and taught Mel everything that she hadn’t known. It was a way to remember and honour the doctor, but also try and distract from the shock and trauma of it all.

𖧧 Mel and Owen grew close because they were both ‘mourning’ Abby. They both tried to help Abby move on, but she was most definitely not receptive to it, and ended up pushing them away (whether she meant to or not). They had this in common, and spent a lot of nights just talking, expressing frustrations and trying to work through their own feelings. Things naturally progressed from there.

𖧧 Jackson freaked her out, made her uncomfortable, but not in the way everyone thinks. Obviously seeing Joel tortured like that, seeing him laying there on that tile with his head cracked open didn’t sit right with her, but it wasn’t that.

People just assume that because Mel doesn’t see death like this happen in front of her, that she should obviously be messed up by it. But she’s a medic. She sees stuff like that all of the time.

She’s had people she knows die under her hands, seen the aftermath of senseless brutality, had to try and desperately fix things that shouldn’t need to be fixed in the first place.

It was Ellie that got her. The girl being held to the floor as she watched her father die, sobbing and pleading for them to let him go, screaming for him to get up. That’s what made her sick to her stomach, had her heart racing and her head spinning.

And yeah, she was one of the few to advocate that they kill her, that they take her out because she’d seen too much. But it’s because she’d seen first hand what this does to someone, what this kind of traumatic grief turns into.

And she’d been right. She’d known all the way in that moment in Jackson, looking between the sobbing girl on the floor and the one wielding the club across the room—two different girls, but two sides of the same coin.

(sorry that last one was so long I just think she's really interesting and think the way Joel's death impacted everyone differently is really compelling.)

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ request your own here! . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

[catsockpuppet]

Do You Want A Shit Ton Of Calix Facts?

TOO BAD! YOU’RE GETTING THEM!! YOU HAVE NO SAY IN THIS!!!!!

erm, ignore the doodle up there it’s normal and not relevant at all i prommy <- half lie

BEWARE OF YAPS vvv

1. calix is caedromantic

2. his favorite song is “new god” by moonwalker

3. calix was bit by a werewolf in his teens during a very specific event. a lot of shit went down on the very same day and cal ended up hospitalized for weeks. he met radford there!

4. skid and pump know he’s a werewolf, skid will find his way to calix’s house every full moon to see him transform (but then he gets bored because calix stays home on full moons and does nothing but play drums to avoid stress an’ a transformation)

5. a transformation can be trigged by stress (anger/sadness/etc.) but the further he is from a full moon the less calix can transform! when the moon is barely visible calix can’t transform whatsoever (he likes going out an partying on those days)

6. calix refused to drink or smoke, but he does take edibles sometimes..sometimes. only really when he’s hanging out with ethan

7. calix wears almost exclusively loose tank tops and shorts in case he transforms (other clothes would rip or just be really uncomfortable). cal doesn’t actually like showing much skin though, he wears a jacket sometimes when he’s really uncomfortable

8. he’s suuuchh a pussy about getting sick (/pos). he’ll curl up in blankets and just shiver and only gets up when patty brings him soup

9. he pretty much lives in patty’s basement, his ‘bedroom’ is down there (he sleeps on a couch)

10. calix cannot sleep on a bed ever since his little canon event. if you asked him he’d say the worst part about the hospital was having to sleep in those beds RIGHT AFTER the incident

11. he dropped out of high school, it was too much added stress onto the lycanthropy

12. his lycanthropy is supposed to kinda represent disability but even w/out the lycanthropy he’d be disabled

13. his hair is lighter than patty’s because he bleaches it <3

14. calix tries not to talk about himself or his life because he feels like he’ll hurt people if they get too close (“don’t stare at the sun [ you won’t like what you see ]”)

15. ^ that little quote i made up encapsulates a lot of calix’s character, actually.

16. he likes grapes a lot

17. calix gardens! he loves plants. patty has a few flowers around the house that he takes care of

18. he hasn’t entered his old bedroom since before his hospitalization. patty went in once to grab a few of his clothes and bring them down to the basement but otherwise they don’t go in.

19. ^ patty payed robert $200 to empty the room for her and box everything up. she donated everything in there (and let robert take some of calix’s old games)

OKAY. UNDER THE CUT TIME BC I WANNA TALK ABOUT WHAT HAPPENED TO HIM (tws: violence, underage drinkinh, overdose)

calix got into a bad group when he was a teen. patty wasn’t home oneday and he had a friend sneak in to hang out. they were older and got access to alcohol (something calix had been kind of desensitized by now, he’d also picked up smoking) so the two were drinking an’ just kind of hanging out until the friend attacked him. that’s where he got bit and the lycanthropy didn’t reveal itself for a few more weeks but calix was really injured from the attack+he’d had a bit too much to drink by now. calix only really remembers passing out in his bed and waking up in a hospital bed with patty sitting next to him

20. calix doesn’t enjoy showing skin because he has a subconscious fear of getting bit again

21. he doesn’t touch any substances because of what happened

22. not related to all this but i forgot to mention that patty had calix in her 20s while she was in college, she’s a single mother.