#yeah your handwriting is canon ��

[deathleesaysstuff]

Whiteboard fanart of Danny and Alex for @thingsthatbleedfic !

These were drawn on a discord server's whiteboardfox and totally wasn't propaganda to maybe get others interested, nuh uhhh.

Not bad considering I've never really drawn either of them before, I don't know how I even got them to look so cool considering how janky whiteboard is on mobile.

The other server whiteboard goers seemed to like them 👍

[letters-to-fallen]

GOOD MORNING TO THE FALLENN

Something tells me it's not such a good morning…

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[malikselfindulgence]

💌 + Grapefruitshipping my beloveds!!

King of "if my gf were wrong I'd simply reshape reality to make her correct" BWHEHW TY SO MUCH FOR THE ASK!!! :3

[theradicalace]

slowly working my way through making these little character refs for the whole htf cast... just basic info and lil bits of trivia :3

these were Heavily inspired by @hostilemuppet's art because their interpretations of the characters are so perfect and their art is super swag!!

[saturngas]

lover boy

[🪐] satoru didn't believe in love at first sight, but it changed when he met you.

pairing: gojo satoru x f!reader

genre: fluff

warnings: teen!gojo; pining!gojo x pining!reader; two teens in love; this is sooo cheesy; a tiny bit of angst; confort; canon au; I hope I wrote teen gojo well this is lame

word count: 3.3k

...

satoru gojo did not believe in love at first sight. love requires time and devotion, and just seeing someone can't determine your definite feelings for them. he claimed people often mistook love for admiration, physical attraction, or even arousal. his beliefs were firm and inflexible.

so when the first year students got introduced to the new second year class, he felt a bit... provoked.

the moment director yaga announced the new class was coming on thursday, satoru persuaded his two classmates, suguru and shoko, to welcome them warmly. satoru was kind at heart, but sometimes his loud and egocentric personality caught in the way.

he and suguru had prepared a few decorations around the classroom, while shoko got the party hats.

"suguru can you write a big 'welcome' on the board?" satoru asked as he stuck balloons onto the wall.

"what? do it yourself."

"no! you know I can't do it. nobody understands my handwriting."

"well satoru, you need to work on that. it is pretty awful."

"h-hey!"

before satoru could launch at suguru, the door swiped open, director yaga coming right after.

"w-what? who let you do this delinquency on the classroom?" the older man questioned annoyed. he never approved of some party for the new class, he just expected the second years to introduce themselves.

"it was satoru's idea," the black haired guy said quickly.

"what!" a gasp left his lips as his blue eyes shouted betrayal behind his round glasses. "and yet you are here helping me," he squinted his eyes accusingly at suguru.

"it doesn't matter. they will be here in less than thirty minutes," yaga sighed. "and where is shoko?"

just as he finished his sentence, the brown hair girl entered the classroom, a nonchalant facade adorning her. she was holding the three party hats along with snacks and beverages, a single maybe illegal one snuck between them.

kento nanami and yu haibara complemented each other so well. you had known them for just four days, but you were already growing a bit of affection towards your new classmates. nanami was a quiet and private guy while haibara leaned more into the extrovert side, but not being annoying at all.

when the three of you were called into the classroom where you would meet your seniors, a bit of nervous sweat adorned your forehead as you stood behind the shut door. you have heard some tremendous things about the second year students. there was a guy who literally swallowed curses and used them as pokemon, a girl who was incredibly good at reversed cursed technique, and the beholder of the legendary six eyes and limitless. you didn't know who was who though.

"are you guys excited? oh my! I can't wait to be a great sorcerer!" haibara said excitedly and it actually made you less nervous, there was someone in the school who seemed sensitive.

"yeah. it's going to be a long way," you said just so say something, as you couldn't think of an answer to his enthusiasm, when the door slid open to reveal the classroom inside.

a loud plopping sound startled the three of you, confetti cannon firing hundreds of small colored papers in your direction.

"welcome!" a white haired boy with some ridiculous round glasses shouted as he held the confetti cannon. his yawp followed by a couple of seconds of silence as you recovered from the disorientation the loud cannon caused.

"hah, thank you. that was funny." you said with a soft smile. you had to demonstrate gratitude to your seniors, right? even if it's something as random as this. maybe you were overthinking your interactions with your seniors, but you wanted to make a good first impression.

"thank you! im so glad to be here!" haibara said innocently with a big grin. nanami just looked around the room to try and cover his crippling embarrassment.

satoru gojo didn't believe in love at first sight. but when you told him he was funny? maybe the burning sensation of his cheeks claimed otherwise.

okay, you didn't say he was funny, but the confetti cannon was his idea, so you think he is funny, right?

the rest of the welcoming was spent with required introductions from both the new class and the second years. satoru was certainly curious about the three of you, he wanted to know if this generation was strong. sorcerers needed to be strong, he believed. however he couldn't help but stare you.

you were indeed a sight for sore eyes. your hair danced gracefully around your neck, your skin seemed so smooth, your posture screamed confidence, and you eyes were ones to get lost in.

but that was only admiration, right? satoru had seen dozens of pretty girls before. but the big smile crippling up his face couldn't hide itself when you introduced yourself.

your seniors were very... particular, especially the white haired boy with a creepy smile looking directly at you. his eyes were covered by his shades, but you could swear he hadn't blinked in at least the forty seconds that took you to present yourself.

"im glad there is another girl in this school," shoko shared with a relived tone, her brown eyes analyzing the three of you. "it gets a bit... difficult sometimes with so much testosterone here," she said casually while looking at his two male partners.

suguru shot her a displeased glare while satoru... kept staring at you with the biggest grin. suguru could see his blue eyes from the side being as wide as plates. he wanted to slap him from being such a creep.

satoru didn't believe in love at first sight. he was certain what he felt when he saw you using your cursed technique was pure amazement. he valued strength even over people's morals.

the raw power coming from your cursed energy made him feel almost as euphoric as when he discovered his cursed technique reversal, red.

the way your hand-in-hand combat skills made his opinion on you even more complex. was he a creep for peeping your sparring sessions with haibara and nanami?

satoru swore he just admired your hardworking skills, and maybe your cursed energy was somehow attractive to him, and maybe maybe he liked watching you because he thought you were pretty.

but why hadn't he approached you yet? his natural flirtatious charisma would have acted right the moment he said welcome to you. even as far as showing you his bright blue eyes while striking poses in front of you, showing you every single well-carved angle of his body.

yet he had been respectful to your persona. when he was told there would be another girl in jujutsu high, he thought nothing of it, guessing it would be "another shoko," just another female friend of his.

however, you had unconsciously awed satoru: with your beauty, your strength, and you even thought he was funny!

uh oh, maybe you were different. maybe he liked liked you.

"did you know that in quantum mechanics, particles such as electrons can behave both as particles and waves?" satoru said with an easy going smirk as he approached you during your lunch break.

"oh, hi gojo," you smiled naturally, making the dimples on satoru's cheeks deepen. "yeah I have read something about that in quantum physics books. something about the Schrödinger equation, right?"

oh man. satoru knew he was lost. his lanky body launched itself to your side on the bench. you were outside in the training grounds. you took a bite of your rice ball.

"oh wow," he chuckled a bit nervous. "didn't know you were a physics girl."

"not exactly," you responded muffled as you swallowed the food in your mouth. "but I figured I needed to know the basics to understand my cursed techniques."

you were just made for him. satoru esteemed your physical strength and your smart head. were you also a geek like him?

"your cursed technique involves a lot of physics, right gojo?" your words brought him back to reality. "I would appreciate if some time you show me how it works. I guess im a bit nerdy, haha." you laughed a bit embarrassed. was it okay to be this straightforward with your senior? yeah right? they were there to help their juniors after all.

"of course!" he responded loudly with a big grin. it caught you off-guard you almost tossed him your chopsticks.

you would have thought satoru would show you his technique in the training grounds, or even out in a mission. not in a bakery shop.

before one of you classes started, there was a blue sticky note on your table.

"meet me at the bakery shop in front of the park tomorrow at 3pm to show you my technique, -S.G." there was a little drawing of a cat with round glasses at the right lower corner.

satoru had bribed the naive haibara to tell him where you would usually sit and if you had any missions the next day. the junior was so happy his senior was directing a word to him, if only he knew satoru talked to him to get closer to you. poor guy.

what the white haired guy didn't tell you—didn't want you to know—was that he planned it as a date. was it considered a date when only one of them was aware of it?

satoru didn't care.

he stood straighter the moment his blue gaze fell on your figure entering the bakery shop. oh how good you looked in the jujutsu uniform. the skirt fitted you so well.

"hey!" he shouted your name while raising his entire arm to get your attention. it even gathered the attention of the others clients. you chuckled slightly at him, finding it cute that he was so careless about what others think of him.

"hello gojo," your soft voice was like honeyed melody to his hungry ears. he liked hearing his name coming from your throat.

"suit yourself with something sweet," satoru passed you the small menu looking directly at you eyes as you sat in front of him. you hadn't seen his blue eyes yet, but you could feel his deep stare.

"thank you," you murmured. "umm... gojo? I thought you were gonna show me you technique."

"do you really wanna talk about it? I mean we see sorcery-related stuff all the time, we should take a break," he suggested with a smirk. "why dont you tell me more about yourself? I wanna know more things about you."

and that's what you two did for the next couple of hours. satoru found solace talking to you, an easy person to talk to. it wasn't just the addictive sound of your voice, your answers to his questions and the funny remarks you would sometimes add made him all giddy.

he enjoyed listening to you speak, but he felt a tug at his chest and a burning sensation on his pale face when you asked him about him. you wanted to know about his innate technique and his cursed energy, of course, but satoru gojo was more than just him being a sorcerer. and you could see that. perhaps it was part of your nature to see beyond people´s facade, dip into their true feelings and just observe them.

you noticed the way his eyes cracked open when you asked him about his music taste, his long white eyelashes picking up from his round glasses.

satoru was very complex. he was funny, however his jokes were sometimes a bit off. his humor could be a bit... ahead of his time. he tried putting up an unbreakable, solid self-centered demeanor, but he was kind and sweet at heart, in his own and weird way. it was true that he wanted to have a regular date with you, to get to know you—which he was accomplishing—but it was just as true that he wanted to get his mind off of jujutsu. for a moment at least. he didn't need constant reminder he was supposed to be the savior of the world.

the "date" went smoothly. each got to know more about the other. satoru was convinced he will make you his, while you started seeing beyond the strongest, meeting the compounded and sweet person he was.

it was girl's night. one of the girls dorm was full of the only females in jujutsu high—you, shoko, and utahime.

utahime was like your super senior, she was already a graduate and sorcerer. she was nice and honest. you could notice shoko had a deeper bond with her than with her two male friends.

"shokoo," utahime sang to her junior, squinting her eyes. "ive noticed the way that guy haibara looks at you~."

"haha, nonsense," the short haired girl chuckled unconcerned. "im pretty sure he just looks up at me. he is the same with the two idiots."

"yeah, he admires you all," you said after taking a sip of your nonalcoholic beverage. "haibara just wants to be a great sorcerer to help people so he wants to learn from all of you." you yawned. it was almost midnight and even though you were still young and healthy, getting up at 6am was challenging after a sleepless night.

"well he certainly won't learn anything if he follows in the footsteps of gojo," utahime shrugged while rolling her eyes. she needed to get it off her chest after the constant disrespect the junior gave her.

shoko laughed as you did as well, just a bit nervously. "why you say that, utahime-senpai?" your sleepiness vanished completely.

"well!" she has prepared her whole life for this moment. "he is careless and bluntly disrespectful! to everyone—especially to his seniors!" utahime said with an elevated fist in front of her face, she was getting a bit agitated from the alcohol running through her system. "I dont care he is the strongest, gojo doesn't even care for the people around him. he just cares for himself and getting stronger alongside geto."

the girl with ponytails was speaking with her heart. though her words made you question satoru's morals. he was sweet with you the other day, and he always greeted you during mornings. it was clear he wasn't the most down-to-earth person, but you wouldn't agree he didn't care for others.

that night you went to bed a bit anxious, tossing around the blankets thinking about the white haired boy.

"y/n~ why do you keep training with those two?" satoru whined loudly as he ploped himself down next to you. too next to you. you chuckled softly at his dramatics.

the two were sitting under a tree, its autumn-orange leafs falling at the rhythm of the slightly chilly air. it was mid october and the climate was full of cinnamon and earthy odors with vibrant shades of yellow and orange.

utahime's opinion on satoru didn't discourage you from meeting the sunshine boy, but it was definitely interesting to know how his classmates viewed him. you decided to form your own verdict on satoru by yourself.

and you couldn't deny the feeling of an accelerated heartbeat whenever the tall boy would rush to you to start a conversation. you had stopped laughing politely and started giggling like an enamored girl whenever he would say something remotely funny.

it was undeniable satoru was both handsome and pretty. his boyish features, his striking baby blue eyes that mirrored the skies, his ruffled snow white hair, his very tall and lean figure was too much to take in. the more you would meet him, the more you would grow fond of him. he was a sight for sore eyes. and all the while, his personality was eventually getting into you.

"what do you mean, gojo?" you giggled when his clothed thigh brushed yours. "they are my fellow classmates and they are my friends."

"well, im just saying if you train with me, you'll get stronger faster," he suggested while leaning back with his hands behind his head. he wanted to appear cool and smooth.

"oh, please, every time you say we'll train, we end up in a different bistro!" you exclaimed with a hearty smile while looking at him. his cool facade disintegrated once he caught a glimpse of your eyes.

"th-then, thanks to me you know all the great small restaurants around here!" satoru said flustered. you chuckled while leaning back as well, and just slightly, almost nothing, satoru felt the ghosty touch of your shoulder on his side.

"haha, whatever you say, satoru," the taller man looked at you impressed, a rosy shade decorating your cheeks. the moment suddenly imbued to his consciousness. he was glad you two were over the last name barrier.

his dimples deepened as he tilted his body toward you.

satoru didn't believe in love at first sight. he tried convincing his own self that it took him time to be this smitten by you, that it wasn't love at first sight.

when he told suguru about you, the dark haired boy looked at him with a stoic stare with a raised brow. only a brainless person wouldn't have noticed, he had said, with the way satoru was being all over you recently, harassing your personal space when clinging to you and being annoyingly whiny whenever you had to be anywhere else away from him.

suguru did confirm, though, that you didn't mind any of satoru's loud antics, and once he told satoru his thoughts, the squeal the white haired boy left was to bully him forever. suguru decided to let him drown in his own delusions and he'd tease him later.

after the incident with the star plasma vessel, you noticed a subtle change in satoru.

you weren't in jujutsu high when they returned, however you knew there was something off the moment satoru stopped spamming you with text messages.

your flip phone buzzed the whole three days the mission lasted, with messages full of emoticons.

the star plasma vessel is just a loud youngster with no friends! ( ˘︹˘ ) ohh it reminds me of someone~ hahah y/n stappp (╥︣﹏᷅╥) (ง︡'-'︠)ง

we're at the beach! (✿◠‿◠) :D saw a little sea snail n it reminded me of you~ <33 ah satoru have a fun time!! why did it reminded you of me? *u* bc of that back hump bby you gotta work on that (´_ゝ`) enough

however, during the last day his message rate decreased, to the point that by afternoon, you hadn't received a single text from him for hours. you would have thought he was involved in an intense battle, though he would still text you while doing that.

so it was a bit bittersweet to get a solid text almost at night.

suguru and I made it back to the school, hope you're doing ok on your mission:)

you never questioned him what had happened during those three days, but you were certain it had changed him. it was evident when the day you announced you were back at the school, satoru sprinted to check on you. his hands roaming through your face and arms, looking for any cuts or wounds, while murmuring "are you okay" repeatedly under his breath.

you also noticed this new ambition of his of becoming stronger, asking you to randomly throw objects at him to test his limitless, which he now kept it automatically, isolating himself from the rest of the world.

still, you could see through him. you wouldn't insist on him telling you about what happened, but you weren't going to allow him to sulk and seclude himself from you, being by his side and opening your heart to him.

it had took him a week and a half after the star plasma vessel mission for him to go back to his silly self. such assignment left a bitter scar on his heart and soul, one that wasn't your job to heal, but satoru treasured you for it. he needed frequent assurance you were there with him and that you cared for him.

he also realized he was wasting time playing games with you. he was ready to be yours just as you were ready to be his.

and even though satoru gojo didn't believe in love at first sight, he did believe in deep, devoted love. he didn't know he would be as lucky to endure it, but with you, he was prepared to give you his all. even if he keeps lying to himself he didn't fall for you when you laughed at his confetti cannon.

taglist: @snwvie @fanficsforkicks <3 guys I really wanna make a pt 2 of this I think I can do much better

[throwawayhero]

could you give more hcs or a drabble about bakugou with a crush on reader!! pls i feel like ur fics are the closest ive seen to canon... i need more

No problem, and thanks! I try to make them seem canon, but sometimes it's difficult T-T. Just realising now that a few of these sound stalker-y and I'm sorta regretting writing this but oh well. I hope this is satisfactory!! c/w; social media au, buzzfeed, eminem (idek), karaoke, not proof read

!Katsuki who unintentionally catches himself playing with his hair while talking to you. Not in an obvious way (that's what he thinks at least), but more so absentmindedly fiddling with his side burns and such. It's kinda funny when he accidentally curls them and leaves them like that for a while. He also has a habit of playing with his baby hairs on the back of his neck.

!Katsuki who "accidentally" managed to copy your handwriting style down stroke for stroke? He doesn't really know how it happened, to be honest. He just noticed it one day during a group project after Jirou pointed it out to the two of you. You found it funny, but he found it outrageous and claimed that you had been the one to copy his handwriting.

!Katsuki who allowed you to tag along on one of Kirishima's and his study sessions. He beat the shit out of Eijirou and was gentle with you, more or less. He wouldn't hit you of course, but he certainly wasn't scared to yell. At least the first time. The look you gave him made him writhe with guilt, so he shut the fuck up out of embarrassment.

!Katsuki who heard you talking about a band you loved and decided it was his god given right to go through their whole discography and criticise it in his own time. But turns out, you have good taste, so he keeps to himself about it. "Accidentally" bought a spare ticket to their next concert and offered the spot to you. No big deal, right?

!Katsuki who did extensive searching for your socials, scrolling through his friends friends following, mutuals, and genuinely just word of mouth. When he did find your accounts, he stalked the SHIT out of them. When you requested to follow him, he freaked out and accepted straight away. He didn't follow you back until a week later, "just to be safe".

!Katsuki who unironically took one of those "Do I have a crush on my friend?" quizzes when he started to feel things towards you. 100% went down a rabbit hole on buzzfeed. He wanted to call his "crush" ANYTHING other than what it was. Mentioned it to Kirishima once and was left even ore confused than what he had originally been.

Unrelated but he just looks like he would listen to Eminem. Probably gets a good chuckle out of the whole "You gonna cancel me, yeah? Gen Z me brah?!" thing. Don't ask me to explain why I think this, it just makes sense.

!Katsuki who more often than not is watching you out of the corner of his eye. Not in an overly-creepy way, he's just "aware of his surroundings". He says that to anyone that mentions it, which is literally just his paranoia.

!Katsuki who secretly loved the fact that you hung out with him and his friends almost daily. Because then he wouldn't have to initiate hangouts and look as desperate as he really was. It gave him a plausible excuse to absorb every single opinion you uttered. It gave him an excuse to get even closer to you.

!Katsuki who freaked the FUCK out when everyone (besides the two of you) got sick and couldn't do the bi-weekly hangout everyone had played a part in organising. The group had settled on doing karaoke, so you can imagine how it went down with just the two of you there. Although, the two of you did make an amazing duet. (No one was really sick, Mina just mentioned Katsuki's behaviour and put 2 and 2 together. She also wanted to see if he would take initiative for once.)

!Katsuki who went out of his way to make changes to his hero costume that he knew you would like. Small details here and there, for both style and practicality. While it was cold he would use the neck warmer to hide the smirk that creeped onto his face when he saw you checking out his new look. He also started to make himself look nicer in general, indulging in a bit of jewellery (stud earrings, a ring or two, and a silver necklace), nicer shoes, wearing the uniform properly and such.

!Katsuki who has your number pinned in his contacts, as well as giving you your own message & ring tone sound. He has everyone but you, Kirishima, and his parents on silenced. He also has your contact saved as a nickname he assigned you without you knowing with a heart emoji. It's simple, but endearing.

[azrakaban]

Theodore nott fluffy dating head canons please 🥺🥺🥺🥺

AGH YES YIPPEE I LOVE WRITING THESE I HAVE SO MANY IDEAS

Theodore Nott Headcanons <3

Let's get right into it with some basic Theo headcanons, and then some dating ones too!

- Deffo has a Bernese Mountain dog back at home tbh, his mum loved them and got one before she died, and he loves that dog because it's all he really has left of her presence in his home

- Besties with Mattheo since they were both really little

- His mum died when he was eight, in childbirth, when giving birth to his little sister.

- his family is the Slytherin equivalent of the Weasleys, but reversed. He has four older sisters, and two younger sisters.

- Forces Mattheo to help him babysit his sisters

- Lapses into Italian when he gets tired

- Deffo sleeptalks in Italian, and when you first started dating you probably got so confused 😭

- He's really irritating when teaching you Italian, he'll throw in a word into his sentence and then make you look it up in a dictionary

- For sure loves dancing, whether or not you're good, if you're alone and there's music, call yourself Ginger Rogers

- Big fan of hand holding, he likes the feeling of having you that close.

- Hilarious when drunk, drunk words sober thoughts fr. He'll insult Draco's bleach, but then look at you and be like "Amore mio! guarda Matteo, guarda com'è bella! Aspetta, cosa stai facendo? Smettila di guardare la mia ragazza!" (My love! Look Mattheo, look how beautiful she is! Wait, stop looking at my girl!)

- Definitely a cat person besides his Bernese, and would adopt a black cat ASAP

- Would totally be an animagus, probably a black cat or a wolf

- If wolf, he'd maybe let you ride on his back. Only if he was in a good mood though.

- His music taste: Classical, specifically Beethoven, chase Atlantic, Coldplay. Guilty pleasure is Ariana Grande.

- Love language? Teaching you Italian for sure. Although does give presents randomly if he feels like it, but not too often.

- Definitely ambidextrous, and will help you write your homework. He learns how to mimic your handwriting so that if you don't feel good, he can do your homework for you

- convinced he sleeps with so many blankets that trying to find him in that MESS of a bed is impossible 😭

- actually apologises to your teddies if they fall of your bed

- reads poetry to calm down and will write it about you (you'll never see it though)

- definitely the designated driver most of the time 😭

- he's got snacks stashed all over the castle incase you two get hungry but you'll never know where he's hiding them 😭

- he has a resting bitch face until you're in the room

- queen of accidental photo bombs and there is not a single cute picture of you two no matter how

- pookie CANNOT swim. Don't even get him to try 🤡

- he's an ambivert, so mainly introverted with people he doesn't know, but is actually the clown of the group (him and Mattheo)

- He can play cello and double bass, but only plays for you if you ask

- actually the biggest hopeless romantic, Mr Darcy type shit

- Insanely good singer, and will sing to you in Italian

- good at herbology, took it for OWLS and NEWTs and became friends with Neville through it, they partner every day

- his favourite colour is navy

- Will speak Italian to Mattheo, who can speak it too, just to be funny. Like he'll be glaring at Draco and saying to Mattheo:

"So you think firewhiskey is worse than Muggle tequila?"

"Uh yeah, why are we glaring at Draco?"

"I want him to think we're shit talking him. So do you eat crackers when you drink or not?"

"No, gross. Nutella pancakes."

"Sounds... surprisingly good."

- He cannot wink, so he'll pass you a note in class and try but it looks like he's got something in his eye because both his eyes start twitching 😭

- He thinks pick up lines are shit, and won't use them. He will however ask you out politely and take you on a date or a few before he asks you to be his partner.

Hope this is what you were looking for! Love and thanks for the request <3

[mistyacorn]

you remind me of the main protagonist

sypnosis; dan heng and his odd way of saying “hey, i think i like you”

pairing(s); dan heng + fem! reader ⟿ featuring; pure fluff, really blank and super indirect dan heng, reader is compared to a female character (hence, fem! reader)

a/n; this was such a random write lol. im so sorry that it’s a bit of a mess, im still working on more clear storylines heheh . i hope it’s still enjoyable! ૮(ㅅ´ ˘ `) ♡ also i made beauty and the beast a canon fairytale here pffft u neva know

⇢ DAN HENG is the type that literally nobody expects to like anybody, and therefore neither do you.

⇢ you’d probably even think that he dislikes you because whenever it’s just the two of you he never says a word. he’s dead silent. he only ever nods or gestures and barely looks you in the eye.

⇢ occasionally you’d get slightly jealous of how he speaks whenever march is with you guys (even though they always end up fighting verbally, it’s still talking!)

⇢ so you eventually take it as a ‘hint’ and try your best to move on.

⇢ though let’s be real, it’s not easy to move on from a crush if you see him almost everyday. especially when he has the most perfect emerald eyes and soft black hair….

⇢ one day, you’re in your room on the astral express and you’ve just finished the book you had borrowed from the express library recently.

⇢ you did borrow it without telling anyone though, so it kinda felt like you stole it haha…

⇢ but you definitely did not want to annoy dan heng with your request so stealing borrowing seemed like the best option.

⇢ you decide to head over to his room, hoping to secretly drop the book and go.

⇢ thankfully the boy is not in the room when you get there (which is super rare, go you!). you tiptoe as carefully as you can towards the bookshelf.

⇢ you quickly find the correct slot and insert the book.

⇢ just as you think you’ve accomplished your mission, you turn around and-

⇢ at the door stands dan heng, staring at you nonchalantly (as per usual). “hi.”

⇢ his sudden appearance immediately causes you to begin a five minute long explanation about how you got there. (yes, five minutes. idk how but you drag it on and on) its mostly bullshit you’re spitting out.

⇢ “…pom pom told me that there was this super cool book…. I just had to read it of course …..and it was really cool yeah yeah ….um about robots and science and…stuff….”

⇢ does pom pom even read?? you didn’t know!

⇢ and you definitely don’t notice amidst your frantic stories, but dan heng listens to you attentively in amusement. he actually has the smallest grin on his face, very well knowing you are making everything up.

⇢ to put it simply, he finds it endearing. he’s almost in a trance, just listening to you talk and talk and talk…

⇢ after you finish your story time, he snaps out of it quick enough for you to not notice anything.

⇢ and you bow repeatedly in embarrassment before dashing out of the room.

⇢ the following day, dan heng suddenly gives you a book out of nowhere. today, his signature cold face seems slightly nervous instead, but you don’t pay attention.

⇢ you see that the book is a fairytale, one that is right up your alley!

⇢ ‘Beauty and the Beast’.

⇢ you open the book to see a post-it note on the first page, with neat handwriting on it;

‘y/n, I saw you liked fairytales and the fantasy genre. I do not. But I stumbled across this book yesterday, and I remember reading the first three chapters sometime when I was younger. It seems like something you’ll like. The main protagonist reminds me of you. I hope you’ll like it.’

⇢ your face is red hot as you read his note. he wrote to you. he thinks of you. he said you reminded him of a princess. (what the fvck.)

⇢ and secretly behind the scenes, dan heng is not as calm and collected as he seems.

⇢ after you put away the book and left that day, he took note of the book you had returned. fairytale…fantasy…

⇢ dan heng immediately started to think hard about any fantasy books he had read in his life. hours and hours of struggling later (he never reads fantasy, it’s too unrealistic for him), he finally remembers one.

⇢ he’d read the first few chapters of it before, and he remembers the main character all too clearly. she reminded him so much of you, yet he didn’t know why.

⇢ (truthfully, it was definitely because she was his first ever fictional crush. and now you were…… but he was never going to admit that to himself.)

⇢ he spends his night searching around the archives. 2am the next morning, he finds it.

⇢ dan heng goes to bed that night, heart thumping faster than usual, because now he realises just how much he likes you.

© mistyacorn do not plagiarize or repost please, just enjoy it ykwim

[fruitcoops]

In the Beginning

Going back to my roots this year with some pre-Coops PT fluff :) This is definitely going to turn into a short series (with exceptions for Leo's birthday, of course) and I'm really excited about it! Hoping for some more time to create this spring <3 Character credit goes to @lumosinlove

TW canon injury (Sirius' ankle)

“Sirius.” Despite the whiteboard with his name scrawled next to 11:00, Remus still managed to sound pleasantly surprised. “Hi, how are you?”

“Fine.”

God, he sounded like an asshole. Remus’ smile didn’t falter. “Glad to hear it. Come on in, take a seat wherever.”

Was this it? The first test? Sirius glanced between the chair by Remus’ desk and the exam table. Hell, maybe he was supposed to sit on the stool. Was he? Was that a ‘Remus spot’ everyone else was smart enough to not even consider?

He picked the chair. Lowered himself gingerly to the cushioned seat, crutches propped on the armrest next to him. A spot on his ankle itched under the Velcro of his stiff boot.

“Thanks for making the time today,” Remus continued, as if Sirius had been any sort of friendly or welcoming. “I really appreciate it. This’ll be quick and easy—just a check-in, figuring out what’s going on and where we want to be. Sound okay?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Sick.” Remus dug around behind his desk for a moment; Sirius could hear papers riffling. Remus’ brow furrowed for a second before relaxing with satisfaction as he pulled a sheet free. “Alright. Sirius Black, meet your new best friend.”

Sirius blinked. “You?”

“Ha! No, I think Pots still has me beat,” Remus laughed, sliding a clipboard across the desk. He pulled his own chair around as well, even though Sirius could see him fold his knees out of the way of the desk. It couldn’t be comfortable. “I don’t like sitting back there when you guys are in here,” Remus said, as if he could read Sirius’ mind. The side of his nose scrunched. “Feels…bossy? I dunno. Can’t really write upside-down, either.”

“Ah. Ouais.”

“But that’s—” Remus waved a vague hand and picked a pen from the broken-handled mug tucked by his computer. “It’s not important. This, on the other hand, is your two-week chart. Decorate it, marry it, I don’t care. As long as you know it’s yours and can find it in that—” He pointed to a wire bin by the door. “—box. Capische?”

Sirius shrugged one shoulder and readjusted his ankle under the table. “Sure.”

“Shweet. There are some forms under the top sheet, if you can fill those out for me real quick.”

Remus stood as Sirius bent his head to write; he puttered in Sirius’ periphery, collecting tape and bandages and a handful of other things from the drawers lining the walls before moving to the exam table behind him. Something spritzed, filling the air with the faint scent of lemon. When he glanced back, Remus was wiping down the exam table with a washcloth.

The table. Of course. He should’ve known. “Do you want me to move?”

“You can if you like.” A lopsided smile found him over Remus’ shoulder. “I’m just cleaning, though. Take your time.”

Feels like I’m taking nothing but time, he thought with no small amount of bitterness. At least Remus meant well. Arthur kept telling him he could have all the recovery time he needed, but Sirius could tell he was getting impatient. He hadn’t even been allowed to think about physical therapy before the six-week mark was up. On some teams, that was long enough to justify rumors of a trade.

Ink smeared under the side of his hand. Sirius cursed under his breath and licked his thumb to smudge it off, but only succeeded in blurring it more. He gave up and scribbled it out, leaving the check mark next to the box instead. Remus’ handwriting was at the top of the page. Sirius Black, printed with a gentle slant to the right. Numbers looped, their tails snagging into one another. Sirius had never met someone who wrote their ‘2’s that way.

“Done?”

He jumped.

“Ope, sorry,” Remus half-laughed as he rolled behind his desk again. The wheels of his chair squeaked. “Didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”

Sirius shook his head. “You’re fine. And ouais, here.”

“Thanks.” Remus flipped through the clipboard with easy neutrality. Sirius had expected him to take this a little more…well, seriously. “Looks good. Like I said before, today is just getting the boring stuff out of the way. Forms, building your exercise plan, making sure you don’t run screaming from the room.”

Sirius frowned. “Why would I do that?”

“Hopefully, you won’t.” Remus gave him a look—a joke, he realized a second too late.

“Oh—yes, no, not at all.” Great recovery. It took everything he had not to roll his eyes at himself.

Again, Remus seemed unaffected by his awkwardness. Did he just not see it? Did he think Sirius was playing along? But Remus was always like that, with every one of them. Unflappable and infallible. The world was smooth and calm for him, like a lake on a windless day in the dead of summer. He was wearing a shirt of the same blue-gray as the pond in the park by Sirius’ house.

“How’s your ankle feeling today?”

Get out of your head. “It’s…fine.”

The side of Remus’ mouth pulled up. “Gotta give me something to work with here, Cap.”

“A little sore?”

The light caught his sandy hair as he tipped his head back and forth. “Sore how?”

“Just…” Sirius shrugged. “Sore. Like normal.”

“Stabby? Dull? Lightning-y? Can you feel your heartbeat in it?”

“Um.” The cool air of the PT room siphoned into the small gaps of his boot when he wiggled his toes. “Mostly dull. Sharper when I take the cast off.”

Remus nodded. “You haven’t been putting weight on it?”

“Non.”

“Good. That sounds about right for this point of recovery. Is it an ‘all the time’ kind of pain, or just when you do certain things?”

This was a lot more talking than Sirius had anticipated. He had assumed Remus would sit him on the exam table, poke around, and then send him off with some ice packs and stretches. More time, he said when Sirius had imagined it. You just have to give it another week or two, and you’ll be fine. A hopeful part of him figured they’d let him back on the ice as soon as the bone was healed.

“It’s sore a lot,” Sirius admitted. “The dull kind. It gets worse when I move around, I guess.”

“Even with crutches?”

“Ouais.”

“Do you sleep with it on?”

“…my crutches?”

“The boot,” Remus snorted, though it wasn’t mean. He was rocking slightly in his chair, back and forth. Sirius could see the armrests turn with each light push of his foot behind the desk. The tense thing in his belly eased. If Remus was this casual, maybe he was allowed to take some deeper breaths.

“They gave me a different one for the night,” he said. “It’s softer.”

“Are you more of a back sleeper, side sleeper…?” Remus trailed off, gaze darting across Sirius’ face, and gave a sheepish grin. “That sounds super invasive, wow, sorry. I promise I’m just trying to figure out if you’re sleeping on it weird.”

Sirius tried to school his expression. He didn’t want to know what face he had been making at Remus’ question—they knew each other well enough to not fix him with a media glare. “Uh, my back,” he answered. “Usually. The doctors said to put it up on a pillow until it healed.”

“Cool, cool, sounds good.” Remus nodded again, then drummed his hands on his thighs. “Alright. Those are all the questions I have. Any on your end? Concerns, preferences…?”

How fast can you get me out there? Something told him Remus wouldn’t have an answer he’d like. “No, I’m good.”

Remus had a dimple on his left cheek. It made a divot with his small smile. “Great. Ready to hop on the table so I can take a look?”

It took a moment for Sirius to get to his feet; he reached for his crutches, only to find Remus already holding them steady for him. He hobble-hopped the five or so feet from the desk to the exam table; six and a half weeks in, and the crutches still did their best to stymie him at every turn. Horrible fucking things. His underarms were rubbed raw after fifteen minutes. Clunky and awkward and—

“Hold on.”

Sirius paused.

Remus was frowning at his leg. “Those don’t look right.”

“Quoi?”

“You’re…what, six-three?”

“About.”

“Sit, sit.” Remus ushered him to the edge of the table, but took the crutches as soon as Sirius perched himself on the cushions. He pressed a small button near the base; aluminum squeaked as the foot shortened by a few notches. “That’s better,” Remus muttered, almost to himself. “These pads are all worn out, too. Did they give you towels?”

What the fuck? “Uh, no?”

A disgruntled exhale made Remus’ nostrils flare. He leaned the crutches against the wall with a similarly irritated tilt to his mouth. “Remind me to give you some before you go, or the tops are going to wear the hell out of your armpits. I reset the height, too. They were two inches too tall.”

“Oh,” Sirius said helpfully.

“It’s not, like, a huge deal or anything, but it’s uncomfortable.” Remus cocked his head. He regarding Sirius with a critical, but not harsh, eye. “Has your back been hurting?”

Sirius shifted in his seat. “…yes.”

“That’s probably from the height issue.” Remus’ nose twitched with clear displeasure. A pen turned between his fingers, glimmering in the pale light. Sirius hadn’t noticed the bandaid on his knuckle before. The pen stilled with a sigh, then vanished into Remus’ pocket. “Sorry, I just—Moody and I have been trying to get the guys to come in here sooner, because of shit like this. Crutches at the wrong height, no towels, not knowing you’re allowed to wash braces. You’re already uncomfortable, you know? No need to make it worse.”

“Sorry.”

“Oh, god, it’s not your fault,” Remus said immediately, pumping hand sanitizer into his palm. “Just sucks that we have to ask permission. It’s not like we’re going to do anything stupid while bones are still healing.”

Sirius swung his legs up on the table while Remus rolled a stool across the speckled linoleum; his ankle twinged, but he managed to keep his wince light.

It was no use. “What was that?”

“Hmm?”

“Face.” Remus pointed at him, arching a brow. “You’re in my rink now, bud. You made a face. You can either lie about it, or get out of here on time.”

Perhaps Sirius had been a bit overconfident in how well he could hide pain. “Just sore when I lift it.”

“Where?”

“Uh. My ankle.”

“Right, I—” Remus broke off with a short laugh. “Sorry. Is there pain in other places when you lift it?”

He let Remus wave him further onto the table before answering. “I can feel it in my calf and foot. A little into my knee.”

The plastic was sticky from cleaning solution, but the cushions were perfectly firm on his lower back. He let his head rest back against the wall with a slow breath and wiggled his toes again. It was nice, being able to do that without lancing pain. Remus tapped his thumb against the edge of the table a few times before moving to stand by Sirius’ feet. “Can I take your shoe off, or do you want to?”

“Oh. Um…” He sat up further, but his fingers just barely brushed the hem of his pants. With a grind of his back teeth and a quick flash of pain, he bent his opposite knee and pulled the shoelace free. His ankle began throbbing faintly as he nudged the shoe off—sock too, thanks—and a puff of air slipped out when he finally leaned back.

Remus was watching him with a sad sort of wariness. “Can I make a request?”

You could ask me to do literally anything. “Yeah, sure.”

“Please don’t ever do that again.”

If he didn’t look so sympathetic, Sirius would have bristled. “What?”

“That—” Remus gestured at him. “Looked painful as fuck. This is an anti-pain establishment. If you think something’s going to hurt, we’ll work around it. No judgement.”

The thing was, Sirius hadn’t actually done this before. He knew where the ice packs were kept, and that the big steel container in the corner held heat pads in boiling water. He knew where the support bandages were, where Remus kept extra stick tape, and that the set of small drawers next to the desk would each be labeled with the name of a teammate so they could find specific gear. Remus had given him stretches for his sore back and arms and legs and whatever, but this—the shoes, the touching, the gentleness—there was no rulebook. No captain’s log to rattle through when he needed guidance.

“Okay,” he finally said. “That’s cool.”

“Cool.” Remus gave him that half-smile again. “Can I take your boot off?”

“Ouais.”

Remus was a lot nicer to the Velcro than he was. The rip was quieter than Sirius thought it could be, peeled off by practiced hands. He felt the pressure on his skin release immediately and took a breath at the tender feeling. Not pain, but something close. It made his heart spike every time. “Hurting?”

“Non.”

“You sure?”

“Just—makes me nervous.”

“Makes sense,” Remus agreed. “You’ve had it all wrapped up. Feels safer in there, right?”

Right. Exactly right. Something tightened in the center of his chest. “Yeah,” he said. “Something like that.”

Remus nodded. “Is it okay if I take it the rest of the way off? I can do most of the exam like this if that’s better.”

“You’re asking me a lot of questions.” He tried to sound wry. He wasn’t sure it came out that way.

“Lot of people don’t like touching,” Remus answered easily. He hadn’t moved to touch the boot again, hands flat to the maroon plastic covering the table. “I’d rather you tell me to step off now than make something hurt more.” He gave Sirius an apologetic sort of grin. “Plus, you’re probably sick of people grabbing at you. Don’t really want to be one of them.”

Sirius was sick of it. Hands and fingers and grasping through slivers in plexiglass while he was trying to move, goddamnit, when he just wanted to go back down the tunnel and finally be able to catch his breath. People grabbing him on the ice, pushing. Snape’s body against his own—a shoulder in his sternum. Fingers digging into his skin. A tight grip on the back of his neck.

“You can take it off.”

Remus had a crooked canine tooth. Had he noticed that before? “Thanks.”

Sirius’ fists clenched at the touch of warm hands on his heel and calf. It was…fucking strange, but not painful. Not unpleasant, either. Remus had calluses in the bends of his knuckles and on his palm when he carefully transferred Sirius’ foot to one hand and set the boot up by his hip.

“I’m sweaty,” he blurted. “Sorry.”

Embarrassment flooded him before Remus laughed. “Dude, you have no idea how nasty your boys are when they roll up here. Did you know I had to send a reminder to shower before seeing me? And to wear clean clothes?”

Sirius wrinkled his nose. “Ugh.”

“They don’t cut their toenails, either.” Remus’ eyes flicked up to his face, bright and teasing. “I’m not telling you who, but if you can throw a little captain-y weight around…”

“I’ll try.” It almost came out a laugh. Surprise tingled in his lungs. “But seriously, you don’t need me. They listen to you like gospel.”

“Oh, please.”

“They do,” he insisted. Remus rolled his eyes. “Non, non, I’m serious—”

“Yes, I know.”

“—fuck off—you could tell them to brush their teeth four times a day and they’d be at it. They listen to you more than me.”

“I don’t believe that for a second,” Remus informed him. “And I also think you’re healing really well.”

“I—what?” Sirius looked down; his ankle was back on the cushion, cradled lightly between Remus’ palms. It jolted something in him. Had his skin always been that pale? He could see the line where the boot ended halfway up his calf. His foot looked ghostly in the light and everything else looked…thin. Skin and muscle, even bone.

He propped himself up on the heels of his hands. The angry, puckered scar from surgery had faded to a narrow line. When had that happened? Surely not overnight. It had looked so ugly in the shower yesterday, which was exactly why he tended to avoid looking at it. He glanced up at Remus’ patient face. Was he grossed out? That wasn’t how Sirius’ ankle was supposed to look. The knobbly bones on either side were practically gray in comparison; they stuck out, as if someone had stuck two marbles under his skin. His stomach turned.

“Sirius?”

He hummed.

“You okay?”

The joking tone had gone from Remus’ voice. The pit of Sirius’ stomach was heavy. His ankle looked weak; his calf, skinny all the way to the weird lump of his knee. “Mhm.”

“We can be done.” Slight movement caught his attention as Remus ducked to catch his eye. There was the solemnity he had expected. It was odd to see it now. “Any time. Just say the word.”

“The exam?”

“I’m not going to do anything you don’t want me to do.” Firmness had never sounded so kind. “These first steps are visual, anyway.”

Am I done? Sirius looked back at his foot, the strangeness of it, the sickly mirror of his healthy one. “Keep going.”

“Are you—”

“I’m okay.” He mustered a deep breath. “I’m good. Keep going.”

“Okay,” Remus said quietly.

They sat in relative silence, but it wasn’t bad. Sirius was glad for a break. It was easier to watch Remus work than hold a conversation. The tenderness faded somewhat under the gentle touches of Remus’ fingertips—a tap here and there, faint pressure in the soft spots. Murmurs of feeling alright? and tell me if this hurts filled the buzzing static in Sirius’ ears.

“Ow.”

“Here?” Remus’ first two fingers hovered at the arch of his foot. Sirius nodded. “Cool, thanks. Your swelling isn’t too bad. I think I’m going to hold off on big exercises until Monday, okay?”

Disappointment, bitter and tacky as molasses. “Yeah.” He couldn’t keep the sigh out of his voice.

“We’ll get there.” When he remained silent, Remus poked the peak of his kneecap. “Hey. We’ll get there, I promise. I want you to work on the rest of your flexibility this week. Keep the boot on, but stretch out your legs and back. Your other muscles have been compensating for this and I don’t want anything to get strained.”

“Okay.”

“I’m going to do everything I can to get you back on the ice.” Sirius could hear the but in his voice before he even finished speaking. “But I won’t rush through this and throw you out there just to get hurt again.”

Hurt again. Pain, cold and consuming, flashed in his memory. “Okay.”

“If anyone gives you shit, I want you to throw me under the bus, alright?” The last strap of Velcro fell into place. Remus was even careful with that part. The pressure on his skin was familiar and welcome. He felt a light pat to the table. “Tell them it’s all my fault. That I’m being overcautious and mean and keeping you here, whatever. If the coaches have a problem with your care, they can talk to me and Moody about it. Not you.”

“Okay.”

Remus let him get up unhindered. That was nice. Sirius was pretty sure he’d lose his mind at one more helping hand. He waddled back to the desk chair at an incline of Remus’ chin and was once again relegated to watching while Remus taped some small, folded towels to the tops of his crutches before joining him by the desk.

“You did great.”

Wasn’t that a thing to imagine. Could barely get my shoe off, but alright. “Merci.”

“It’s hard to get people to come in here and actually want to get better.” Remus scribbled a few things on the chart. His forehead crinkled in the middle with concentration. “Lotta guys think they’re fine as soon as the doctors’ visits end. But this is the part that’ll make a difference in the long run.”

The chart slid across the table, followed by a smaller, far more sparkly sheet. A smile pulled at Sirius’ mouth in spite of himself. “Gold stars?”

“Very serious stamps of completion, actually.” The corners of Remus’ mouth were tight with restrained amusement. He couldn’t keep the laughter out of his eyes. “You can pick a different theme if you want. Talkie’s got Lisa Frank, which was kind of a power move.”

Sirius snorted—it was over from there. It took a minute for them to collect themselves, and as much as he hated to admit it, he did feel better after peeling a star from the sheet and sticking it in the first box. “Regarde,” he said with a wave of his hand. “Success.”

“Perfect.” Laughter still lingered in Remus’ voice. It was a nice sound. It was nicer when he looked up and smiled, like Sirius had put one of those heating pads right in the valley of his ribs. “Alright, well, that’s all I need. We can do the same time tomorrow, or you can check out the schedule. We technically have office hours, but you can shoot me a text if we need to find a different one. Number’s on the board. Make sure you give your name in the first message.”

“Okay.” Those ‘2’s again, in green marker this time. That weird feeling in his chest was softening. “Yeah, okay. I think tomorrow works for me.”

“Awesome, see you then.”

“Awesome.” Why can’t I talk? Sirius stood and took his crutches back with a slight stumble. He hoped it passed off as broken-ankle unsteadiness, not—whatever else was going on. He breathed an audible sigh of relief when the tops didn’t immediately begin to chafe his inner arms. “Oh, wow, thanks. This is great.”

“Yeah?” He could hear Remus’ smile before he even turned. He looked pleased, fiddling with the edge of Sirius’ chart. “I’m glad. Sucks to not have what you need, and not even know it.”

“Lucky we’ve got you then, eh?”

Remus’ cheeks flushed. It was rather warm in the room. “Nah. I’m the lucky one. Best job in the world.”

“Got you beat, there.”

Another laugh made Sirius’ chest squeeze pleasantly. It was good to see Remus happy, with all he did for them. “Guess you do,” Remus admitted, then shooed at him with the chart. “Get outta here, your boys are waiting. And check the box by the door for this when you come in tomorrow, got it?”

“Très bien, Loops.”

Maybe it was the adjustments to his crutches, or the promise of something like progress on the horizon, but Sirius didn’t feel quite so awful as he made his way down the hall. He almost felt good, actually. Almost hopeful.

[normalenjoyer-png]

handwriting translation under the cut!!

@justalittleguest GRAAAHHHH okay i have thoughts. love thinking about these guys from a more canon perspective actually. i think honestly. geno would only have a positive interaction with horror because like. doing Anything for papyrus. they could very much relate. i think given time they could probably even become friends but also horror trust issues. horror's paranoia. it would be ummmmmm a strained. friendship.

i also think nightmare just brings in other sanses to cause chaos and spread negativity among the crew every once in a while just cause it's funny. it benefits him too yeah but mostly it's funny. assigning them babysitting duty every 6 weeks.

HORROR: god no i fucking hate working for boss. but it keeps paps+snowdin fed and queen off my back.

GENO: hell if i don't know what it's like to do anything for paps.

—

DUST (signing hurriedly): no thank you

KILLER: dust you have to let me make this escape dust please DUST—

DUST: FLEE

KILLER: DUST IM GOING TO FUCKING OBLITERATE YOU

GENO: so...what's the deal with you two?

KILLER: your eye looks too much like boss's, man...

—

NIGHTMARE: wow i'm so glad i brought this guy in today

[denaliwrites]

Love Letters

Thirteenth Doctor x GN!Reader

Catch and Release Prompt: “Letters”

Summary: A "secret" admirer keeps sending you love letters.

Requests: Tentatively open-ish.

Tag List: @nyxiethesimp, @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce

Warnings: Canon-Typical Tomfoolery.

It had been a number of years since you'd seen the Doctor. The last you'd counted, it had been four. The years were easy to keep track of, at least, but you didn't bother with the months or weeks or days. It was all just... time, when it came to the Doctor.

It had been four years since you'd seen the Doctor. But that didn't mean it had been just as long since you'd heard from them.

It was custom for the two of you to leave each other letters when you were living your civilian life. The handwriting of the Doctor changed on occasion, but you could always tell it was theirs -- least of all because they were the only one who sent you handwritten notes.

It was as if by instinct the two of you knew when to check your mailbox, yet as if by irony you never managed to run into each other.

Well, at least until you did, anyway.

Four years and you hadn't seen the Doctor. The last time you'd seen him, he was a tall and gangly Scotsman. The person you encountered now... certainly was not that.

You weren't sure why you decided to check the mail when you did, but when you got there a blonde who certainly wasn't your usual mailperson was slipping a letter into your mailbox -- a letter with only your name written on it, in lovely flowing script.

The writing had changed again, but as ever remained unmistakably the Doctor's.

"Doctor?" you asked after her, curiously.

She stopped, as if daring to continue forward would physically pain her, then turned to face you. The grin on her face was wide, but strangely forced.

"Erm, no, sorry. The Doctor is... away. Just gave me an address and asked me to drop this in the mail slot."

"I can see the TARDIS on the street corner."

"Oh... really? You shouldn't do..."

"I can also just... tell. When it's you," you said apologetically. "You just have a certain... way about you."

"Ah. I thought I fixed that."

"You're not Scottish anymore."

"Or a man."

Well, you'd be lying if you said you hadn't noticed that. In fact, it was the first thing you'd noticed -- it was a pretty stark change considering that her every regeneration until then (that you knew of, at least) had been a man.

"I don't mind," you assured her, starting a slow approach towards her. She didn't move, but she also didn't seem entirely comfortable, so you stopped a few paces away. "In fact, I think you look great. Womanhood suits you. Especially that face."

"Oh... you --" She wagged a finger, but her smile had turned more genuine. "Don't go gettin' all flirty on me."

"Doctor, you're here to drop off a love letter. I think it may be too late to tell me not to get flirty."

She seemed to consider that, playfully bobbing her head left and right in thought. "Yeah, all right," she finally said, grinning. "You do have me there, I'm afraid."

[bloody-cupcakes]

Can i get a yan!jd (and or Veronica) with a very hesitant reader? Like theyre willing to join in with JD's murders but they extremely doubtful/hesitant with with commiting the act cause they dont want to mess it up?

Sorry if this is too much or not what exactly you want, just shooting my shot here 🐊

No no this is perfect! It's not too much at all, I really enjoyed writing this 🥰 I went with both JD and Veronica because who doesn't love a good murder throuple

Tw: yandere/dark content, gender neutral reader, typical canon related warnings (murder being framed as suicide, several gun mentions, swearing, etc.), the reader is very easily persuaded into helping to commit/cover up a murder, suggestive stuff near the end

"What if we get caught?"

It was the fifth time you'd asked in the past ten minutes, and JD was getting very close to strangling you.

"We won't get caught as long as we stick to the plan," he hissed out in annoyance, trying his best not to snap at you.

"Okay, but what if-"

Veronica cut you off so JD wouldn't pop a blood vessel and give her another suicide to stage, with you as the intended target. "I wrote the note in their exact handwriting, and you already did part of your job by telling Heather Duke that they've 'been acting weird' lately. I'm sure half of Sherwood must know by now, so their death shouldn't come as too big of a surprise."

"Who knew that for once it would come in handy that Heather can't keep her damn mouth shut," JD added with an eyeroll as he counted the bullets in his gun. "It certainly doesn't help their case to have such a big obsession with firearms. And given their track record of firing them all throughout the night, I don't think they'll be missed much."

You slowly nodded your head in understanding despite the look of hesitation in your eyes. "Yeah, but... I just don't want to mess anything up and get you guys into trouble."

It was clear to Veronica that you still seemed a bit apprehensive about everything, so she gave you a reassuring smile and said, "You're not going to mess anything up. If we thought that might happen, we would've left you at home."

"Then you wouldn't get to enjoy the show, and what fun would that be?" JD piped up with a grin as Veronica rolled her eyes.

"Don't worry about it, okay? Everything will be fine." The sincerity of her tone did its job of starting to relax you. She was right, they'd never invite you along if they thought something bad might happen. If there was one thing they could agree on, it was making sure to keep you out of harm's way.

"If you say so, but I still don't understand why they have to die."

"Because they were getting a little too close for comfort in study hall, that's why." JD came up behind you, wrapping his arms around you as his chest pressed against your back. He had his gun in his hand, but you weren't worried. You trusted him not to hurt you. "They were asking inappropriate questions and practically undressing you with their eyes. Only we get to do that."

It was hard to keep your expression neutral due to how flattered you were. Other people might find it to be smothering or unhealthy, but you loved how protective they were over you.

"Okay, you remember the plan, right?" Veronica asked as the three of you approached the intended target's house. "You just go up and knock on the door. They'll let you in-"

"No doubt with the assumption that they'll score," JD butted in with a scowl. Veronica ignored him and chose to continue.

"-and when that happens, I want you to ask them about their firearm collection. Once you get them feeling vulnerable and safe, ask to see one of their guns. Make sure you get close enough to shoot them in the head so it'll look like a believable suicide. Do you remember what their dominant hand is?"

"They're ambidextrous (meaning they use both) so it won't matter which side it's on." You felt proud of yourself for being able to remember such an important piece of information. The time you spent in study hall with them didn't turn out to be completely useless after all.

"Well, aren't you a cute little schemer in the making," JD teased while giving your cheek a playful pinch.

"Shut up," you muttered while giving him a light shove in response. "You guys promise to come in once the gun goes off, right?"

"Of course we do. As soon as we hear it, we'll be inside to help you." Veronica took your hand in hers and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "Good luck," was the last thing she said before her and JD went to go hide while they waited for you to enact your part of the plan.

You put on your most convincing smile as you made your way to the front door, knowing your acting game was going to need to be on point in order for this to work.

Much to your relief and delight, things ended up going a lot smoother than you'd anticipated, and that included the act of murder itself. When JD and Veronica entered the house, you were still holding the gun used to shoot them with, their blood splattered on your face and clothes.

"I did it!" You announced in surprised disbelief, your eyes wide as you stared down at the dead body now lying on the floor. "I did it..."

"You did, good job." Veronica took the gun from you to stage next to the body as JD cupped your face with his hands, completely unbothered by the blood there. "I'm so proud of you, baby. You did it."

A shiver of pleasure went down your spine at his words of praise. "Yeah, I did." You could tell by the way his pupils were blown wide that he was ready to devour you where you stood.

"Hey, I still need your help with this," Veronica's voice interrupted whatever kind of moment you were having, causing JD to let out a groan of disappointment.

"I'll give you your reward once we're done," he murmured lowly, giving you a hungry yet restrained kiss before letting go of you to help Veronica.

You watched the two of them as they set everything up to make it look like a suicide, from the weapon to the note. Despite your earlier worries, everything played out perfectly, just like it was supposed to.

It made you feel excited for any potential outings like this you guys might have in the future.

[spider-man-199999]

No need to hide it pt 2

pairing: college!Peter Parker x Fem!Reader; Post nwh; not too canon

word count: 6,4 K

warnings: underage drinking for USA citizens; mentions of sex

summary: Peter thought no one remembered him after the spell, however you did, but not for the reasons he was afraid you would. Now that you two are something like an item, you find out about his secret.

a/n: very cheesy, fluffy things going on here.

Part1!

“Hi, stranger.” You said as you entered the lab, looking at a very concentrated Peter in a lab coat and glasses, looking at something on the table. 

Out of all the places you expected him to be at 10 pm on a Wednesday night, the lab was the last one. You made your way to him, wrapping your arms around his waist to hug him from behind, your head peeking over his shoulder to look at what he was doing. He had an open notebook with chemical compounds scribbles chaotically all over the pages. It wasn’t something unusual really, to have Peter stay after class so he could do extra work in the lab. He seemed to like it. It started a few weeks ago, after you passed your first exams. He told you he needed some extra time to work on a project of his and managed to persuade the professor into letting him use the lab after classes were done. You had no idea how he did that, but you wouldn’t have it any other way, it was better than having to worry whether he was flirting with other girls at parties or not.

“Hi, dove.” he replied once you hugged him, still looking at the notebook and flipping the pages. 

“Did you just call me a pigeon?”

He shrugged, taking a few tubes and some chemicals from the rack. He gave the notebook one more look before he started mixing things in the tubes. 

“What are you making?” you asked, letting go of him and reading into the notebook with more concentration this time. 

The formulas he had written there were something you had never seen before, whatever this was, it was supposed to be something like a superglue that could dissolve completely after a certain period of time. You furrowed your brows, not sure you were getting the compounds and processes right. Chemistry was definitely not your strongest subject so you weren’t too confident in what you understood.

“Just experimenting.” He replied, mixing the white goo in a tube. 

“Why would you need a temporary super-glue?” you asked him, making him stop his mixing. 

“You could read that?”

“Well your handwriting sure didn’t make it easy but yeah, I can. Why?”

“Just asking.” He continued mixing until the goo was thick enough for his liking. He poured it into a container and shoved it in his backpack. 

“You’re being weird.” You told him, sitting on top of the table as you watched his movements.

He looked at you, taking the glasses off and getting closer. He stood in front of you, his hands wrapping around your waist and pulling you closer, placing a peck on your lips. 

“Right, sorry. I was too concentrated to register that the most beautiful girl was in the room.” He said.

“I was waiting for you at the party.” You mumbled against his chest. 

It was true, with most of the finals being over and spring break right around the corner, the whole campus was partying. Every frat house was going at it. You definitely partied more than he did, and neither of you minded that as long as you came home to him. Most of the time you would actually text him to pick you up, which he did happily. But tonight he promised to be there for the whole night, which was a pretty rare occasion.

“I’m sorry. How can I make it up to you?” He asked, letting go of you.

You shrugged, looking at his worried eyes. You smiled at him, your hand resting against his upper arm, squeezing his biceps through the fabric of the lab coat and his flannel.

“Taking me to one of your boxing workouts is one of the things on my bucket list.” You teased him. 

“Okay, how does next friday sound?” he asked, kissing your cheek.

“Wait really? I was prepared to have to blackmail you and whine for 15 minutes before you said yes. I had a whole scenario.”

“Anything for you, you know that.” Peter said, taking his lab coat and hanging it back on the rack. 

The boxing was actually a white lie he told you weeks ago. He took a pretty rough beating one night, it was his first ever encounter with Kraven the Hunter as Spider-man and things didn’t go exactly to plan. He came back with a black eye, sprained wrist, and multiple bruises and cuts pretty much everywhere on his body. As the panic rushed in his brain when he saw your shocked and worried face, he had to think of something fast. That’s when it just happened, the words just left his lips like it was the most natural, most logical explanation to his state. Anything felt like a better idea than telling you about his secret identity. He hated lying, especially to someone who he grew so attached to, who he even dared to say he started loving. It was for a good cause, or at least that’s what he liked telling himself late at night when he stared out of the window, not being able to sleep because the spider mask, casually thrown on the back of his office chair, was staring back at him.

—-

He walked you back to your dorm, making sure you got home safe and you weren’t locked out like every other day. The second you were out of sight, he was googling “boxing gyms near me” and researching them as he walked home. It was a vicious circle of lying and covering up his tracks in front of you and his roommates. He didn’t want either of you knowing about his secret. It was something he had vowed to himself - to not mix the two lives together ever again. The boxing lie was convenient enough for him to keep it up, if you were to call him when he was on patrol he would just say he’s training. If he ever came back with bruises, he could blame it on a bad sparring session. It was working out perfectly. And now he just had to make it real. He already knew how to fight, obviously, and he had the needed reflexes to take on anyone on an average spar, he just needed to find a gym, go there for a week straight and get to know as many people as he could, and make it seem like he was a regular there in front of you. Sounded simple enough. 

“How do I always end up in the most ridiculous schemes?” he muttered to himself as he unlocked the front door of his shared apartment, walking in, eyes still fixated on the glowing screen. No one was in the apartment, the guys were probably still at the party that Peter had managed to conveniently avoid tonight. He was too busy for them anyway, he only went because he didn’t want you to be there on your own. 

Now that he was alone in the whole superhero business, he had to figure out a way to enhance the web fluid and somehow manage to make as much of it to last him a month, preferably. He liked the formula he had originally come up with, it was simple and easy to make, but he felt like it could be improved. Him and Tony had talked about upgrading it for a long time before but never managed to get to it. He had to figure it out on his own, along with his personal life and his studying. It was starting to get a bit overwhelming. At least he wasn’t alone socially, he had a wonderful girl that shared his feelings, roommates that were like his brothers and enough acquaintances to have someone to talk to in all his classes. 

Peter threw himself on the bed, screenshotting a gym he liked enough to try out tomorrow and fell asleep, still in his clothes.

—-

It was Tuesday night the next week. Peter had been training hard in the gym, socializing, staying late in the lab. It was so hard to get a hold of him in the past few days that you felt like he was purposely avoiding you. He still hadn’t told you what he was doing so late in the lab, no matter how much you asked. You just wanted to hang around with him, watching him work. You enjoyed looking at him like that, concentrated, his brows furrowed in confusion, pacing around nervously while he was thinking, fingers going through his hair. It was entertaining but up to a point, though. And boredom had pushed you into trying experiments of your own. Since you didn’t really know what to do in particular, you opened the textbooks for your shared chemistry class and just started ahead with the material. Upside to this was that Peter was always there to help you just so you wouldn’t kill yourself by mismeasuring. Downside was that Peter was there to see you fail.

You trying to do your own work made him really happy. He always believed more in your skills than you ever did yourself and he knew that putting in extra hours would give you a massive boost in confidence. But micromanaging you along with trying to develop a new web fluid formula was stressing him out. He loved spending time with you and helping you, but constantly worrying about you accidentally burning your skin off with chemicals and him not being able to do anything about it was freaking him out.

“Babe?” He said, his weight rested on his arms he stared at you across the table. “Come over for a second, please.”

“Since when do you call me “babe”?” You asked, taking off the glasses, looking at him. Was he bulkier than before? You could see the outline of his arms through his lab coat. 

“Since now. Why are you always displeased with the pet names I call you?”

“Because you pick the funniest pet names out there, first it was pigeon, now it’s a baby.” you giggled, going around the table to get to him. He placed an arm around your waist, pulling you to his chest.

“Okay, I’ll call you my little spider then.”

“Spider? It got even worse!”

He laughed, resting his chin on top of your head. 

“Hmmmm, what do you want me to call you then?”

“I don’t know…” you said, thinking about it for a second. Your heart started pounding in your chest. You knew exactly what you wanted him to call you - his girlfriend, but you weren’t sure you had enough courage to say it. It had been months since you started “dating” but he never officially called you his. 

“Actually “babe” is fine, kind of generic but I don’t hate it.”

“Glad that’s out of the way then. Would you mind grabbing us something to drink? I’m kind of thirsty.” He asked, reaching for his back pocket and giving you his wallet. 

“You’re going to send me alone at night to get you a drink?” you asked, fake shocked to tease him.

“I’m literally sending you to the vending machine outside of the door.”

“Fair enough. What do you want?”

“Surprise me.”

You nodded, heading out to the vending machine outside to get something to drink. It bought Peter just enough time to jog over to your side of the table and switch out the acid you were about to use in your work with the one you were actually supposed to use. He wasn’t sure this was the right way to go about this situation, he knew how upset you got whenever he corrected your mistakes. He also didn’t want the liquid to overflow too rapidly for you to comprehend and burn you, which was exactly what was going to happen. Once he made sure things were in order, he went back to his own notebook, flipping through the pages for the millionth time. You walked back with two iced teas, one with lemon for you and one with peaches for him. You placed the bottles next to him so he could open the two of them.

“Thank you.” He kissed your cheek, taking a sip from the iced tea. He wasn’t that thirsty really, but he had to go along with it. 

“How’s the research going?” you asked, sitting on the table with a small jump. 

“Could be better honestly.” he replied, closing the notebook and turning to you. 

You smiled at him, your hand resting on his shoulder and squeezing it softly to encourage him. He placed his opposite hand on top of yours, holding it gently as he looked at you. 

“How are you so pretty, seriously?” he asked out of the blue, making you blush with the words. 

“I’ve already told you, braces, accutane and nicely shaped eyebrows.” 

He walked up to stand in front of you, taking his gloves off. You smiled at him, your own hands wrapping around his neck. Peter kissed you, his hands resting on your hips, pulling you closer. One hand dug into his hair, the other was gently stroking the back of his neck. His lips danced with yours, making you forget about everything else around the two of you. 

“We should go home, it’s late.” He said after the kiss.

“But I haven’t finished!” You whined, your hands resting on his shoulders while he looked at you. 

Peter seemed tired, like he hadn’t gotten much sleep lately. His shoulders felt tense under your touch, his eyes had this tired gaze that lazily traced the features on your face, trying to read your expression. His hair was really messy now, which made you reach out to fix it for him. 

“Okay. Finish up and we can go rest.” 

You nodded, jumping off the table and making your way to your corner of the table. Things went surprisingly smooth with your experiment, which seemed somewhat suspicious at first but you chose to ignore it. You were too happy and proud of yourself to really question it. 

—-

You had never been to a boxing gym before. A regular one? Sure, hundreds of times, but never a one specifically designed for boxing. Everything seemed so amusing and interesting, your attention was constantly shifting from the boxing bag, to the ring, to someone doing the ropes. Your head and eyes were moving so fast you could hurt your neck. And then your eyes fell on Peter. It made you freeze on the spot, staring at him. You just had to stare. He had just walked out of the dressing room, wearing shorts and a plain black t-shirt. His hands were wrapped. He ran a hand through his hair nervously, making his way over. You gulped as you made eye contact, the blood rushing into your cheeks. You just couldn’t take your eyes off of him. It felt like that one scene from movies in which the girl is standing on top of the stairs with a gorgeous dress on and the male lead finally realizes how in love with her he is. Except Peter was the pretty girl this time. Someone walked past you, you didn’t even notice until the person gave Peter a fist bump. The two of them shared a laugh, the other guy looking at you and nodding his head.

“I think the chick just fell in love with you.” He laughed, making Peter laugh as well. 

You snapped out of your trance, like drooling over Peter wasn’t embarrassing enough already, you had to be called out on it. Your head shot down in shame, looking at your trainers. A dumb smile was spread across Peter’s face while he looked at you fidget nervously under their gaze. He patted the other guy’s shoulder, sending him off as he finally made it over to you, pulling you in a hug. 

“How do you like it here?” he asked you as you took the opportunity to hide your flustered face in his neck.

“I’ve been here for 10 minutes and people are just now starting to make fun of me. By my standards it’s good.” you told him, a soft sigh escaping your lips. Peter laughed with your comment, patting the top of your head.

“I didn’t hate what he said.” He admitted.

“Of course you wouldn’t.” You rolled your eyes. He wasn’t the one who got caught staring, he wasn’t the one humiliated by someone random. 

“Come on, I brought some extra wrist wraps for you.”

“Wait. I’m training too?”

“Well, obviously, why else did you come? To stare?”

“Actually…”

He laughed again, taking your hand and leading you to the nearest bench. He pulled the wrist wraps from his shorts’ pocket, carefully wrapping your hands in them. You observed every motion, the way the fabric was sliding along his fingers, how his hands moved. Like he had done this a million times before. Or at least it seemed that way. He hadn’t. But patching himself up after a bad fight had given him enough experience to make it seem like he was a pro. After he was done he got up, offering you his hand. You took it, letting him lead the way to a corner where the two of you could train in peace. He greeted a few people here and there, still holding your hand.

“I’m going to show you some basic moves.” He started, standing in front of you at a safe distance. “This is your guard. Your hands need to be like this at all times. It’s for protection.”

You nodded, trying to copy what he was showing you. It wasn’t too hard to do, but watching him was making it hard to fully concentrate. 

You spent a good portion of time going over the basic punches, he even gave you a pair of gloves and made you spar with him. The workout had absolutely drained your energy, 30 minutes in and you couldn’t breathe, your legs felt like they couldn’t carry you anymore. Most of your fitness was usually morning jogs a few times a week, if you weren’t too busy with studying or sleeping over at Peter’s. You weren’t completely out of shape, but “fit” was definitely not a word you would confidently describe yourself as. You sat down on a bench, Peter helping you take your gloves off. 

“I thought the whole point of this was to watch you train, not torture me.” You said as you were unwrapping your hands. Peter was drinking from his water bottle, sat next to you. He bumped his shoulder into yours, smiling. 

“Don’t you do enough Parker-watching in the lab already?”

It made you blush and turn your head away. Truthfully, you had been “Parker-watching” since you started high school and it still wasn’t enough. You started to wonder when exactly you had  transformed into this clingy little girl, drooling over him.

“Yo, Pete! Ready for a rematch? I can’t believe the way you kicked my ass last time, I’m taking you down today, tough guy.” Someone from across the room was shouting. 

Peter got up, placing one hand with a glove on your shoulder. You looked up at him, he hadn’t even sweat yet, perfect. Your head turned to look at the other guy, slightly taller than Peter, light hair and brown eyes. He was lean, wearing a black snapback, no top, black shorts. You thought he looked like the perfect visualization of a frat guy - tall, sporty and handsome, probably arrogant too. 

“You wanted to see me work out, right?”

You nodded, looking back at Peter.

“Then you have to cheer for me extra hard.”

“That’s a little bit cringe but sure, whatever gets you going…”

The guy came up to the two of you, brofisting Peter and then offering you a hand. 

“Harry, nice to meet you.”

“Y\N.” 

—

You were on your toes the whole time they fought. You stood by the ring, holding your breath whenever a punch was thrown in Peter’s direction. He was undeniably hot with the tight fitting clothes, his curls falling on his face. Being short has its advantages, he was way faster than the guy, he even avoided some punches you were absolutely certain would land, knock him out even. But your boy was like lightning on that ring, he was like a professional. Harry was sweating, running after him, very obviously trying his hardest to hit him, but he just couldn’t. It was impressive, to say the least. 

“Come on bro, I’m still warming up.” Peter teased him 15 minutes into the spar. 

“Parker, how are you even doing this?”

Peter laughed, his guard still up, he was jumping in front of him like the characters in mortal kombat did. Harry tried punching him again, Peter dodged and went for the ribs. He hit. Harry was on the floor, gasping for air.

“Oh, god, are you alright?” Peter panicked, he got on his knees next to his friend, taking his gloves off to help him. You climbed onto the ring as well, placing a hand on Harry’s shoulder who was laying on the floor, his arms across his chest. You looked at Peter and he looked back, terrified. “This happens all the time, right?” you asked, as Harry curled up in a ball. “He’s okay, right?”

“Fucking show off.” Harry laughed, but the laugh hurt him even more and soon he was in agony again. 

—

“I can’t believe this happened.” You said, sitting next to Peter on the stairs in front of the ER.

You had bought an ice cream sandwich and broke it in half, giving him the half that was your favorite, his as well, but you thought he needed it more tonight.

“He’s fine, nothing is wrong with him.” You told Peter, who was blankly staring at his feet, holding the ice cream in his hand and not eating it. “They gave him an x-ray, nothing is broken, he just never took a beating before.”

“I wasn’t even going hard on him..” He mumbled. 

You were eating the sandwich, not worried about Harry at all. 

“What was that?”

“Nothing, nothing.”

“Hey, it’s okay. Harry is completely fine, he’ll be out in a minute.” You told him, kissing his cheek. “I don’t know what is going on in that pretty head of yours, but whatever it is, I assure you it's wrong.”

He nodded at your words, finally eating from his ice cream. He didn’t know how you managed to do this, but whenever he felt like this, whenever it got really bad in his head, you managed to pull him right out. Maybe it was how cheerful you were around him, and how you made him feel like you could figure it out together. You would get anxious and worried in most situations too, but somehow you made him feel like as long as the two of you were together, you could figure it out. It always brought him back to the night you called him drunk and crying because you got locked out of your dorm room. You were a whole anxious mess, begging him to save you and once he was there you just calmed down. Like you knew he was really there to save you. Peter felt like the world’s most important hero that night, even more than the times he was Spider-man.

You rested your head on his shoulder, finishing up your piece of the ice cream sandwich. You let him sit like that in silence, which was odd to you because your memories of Peter from high school were in many ways completely opposite to him now. You couldn’t help but remember with nostalgia how open and emotionally vulnerable he was. He would openly tell and show his friends he loved them, and his ex-girlfriend too. You missed that dork, the one that would go in straight for a hug the first day he meets you, but he grew into the awkward handshake dude. Something about him now was very closed off, like there was this wall between the two of you that you didn’t dare jump over. He was still funny and charming, very communicative too, but he rarely talked about how things made him feel. He rarely even shared what was actually going on with him, why he would get so little sleep or what that damn project he’s working on is about. It was putting a lot of distance between the two of you, which you were noticing now after the initial euphoria of dating your high school crush was over. You were trying to build a foundation on top of a sinkhole with him . 

The two of you were so lost in the silence, in the train of your own thoughts, that you didn’t even hear Harry standing behind the two of you. 

“Are you communicating telepathically?” he asked, making the two of you turn. Peter had the sandwich in his mouth while he stood up, hugging his friend. You stood there by them awkwardly. 

“I’m so sorry.” Peter told Harry after he let go. 

“I’m not going to ask for a spar with you, ever again. You’re way too good at this, you should teach me!”

Peter scratched the back of his neck, laughing nervously.

“No, I’m not that good, I’m just short.”

“Man, you have to be professionally trained, or a monster at the gym. I've been training since I was 12, I’ve seen hundreds of opponents. No one of them have hit me this hard. And I got my jaw broken on the ring. Twice!”

At that point Harry had started walking on the sidewalk and the two of you subconsciously followed him because of the conversation. 

“And you’ve been doing it for a week? I’m not buying that, you’re lying!”

“A week?” you asked, looking at Peter confused. “He’s been doing it for months.”

“Months? This guy showed up at the gym for the first time on Saturday, it hasn’t even been a full week.”

You and Harry stopped, looking at Peter for answers. His lies caught up to him and he panicked, he panicked a lot this time. It was easier when it was just you to lie to, because there was no one who could catch him red handed. You crossed your arms in front of your chest, looking at him with squinted eyes. He felt like a deer caught in headlights under your gaze. You had never questioned anything he said before and he was afraid you were about to start.

“He means that… It’s the first time I’ve been to his gym.” he said finally “I used to go to a different one but the guys there… were bullies to me. Remember?”

He was a ball of nerves, placing his hands in his pockets to try and hide it. Peter’s body got stiff and he was trying his best not to lose his composure but he just started blurring out a made up story to save himself. 

“You’ve never told me about anyone bullying at the gym.”

“You can’t have forgotten about that one time I came back with a black eye and all… They were just really… bad? I thought that if I got stronger and tougher they would stop but they di-” you interrupted him with a hug, squeezing him tightly. 

You knew he was uncomfortable with all of this, and it was hard for him to talk about his feelings and what he was going through. You had to reassure him this was not an attack but a safe conversation. It explained his weird behavior to an extent. He was bullied in high school too and you hoped those days were over for him. Being bullied as an adult is something completely different than the childish jokes in school, that’s why you thought part of the reason he was so closed off now. 

“It’s okay, Pete.” You mumbled. “You don’t have to talk about it, I believe you.”

He finally breathed out, hugging you back. 

“It’s okay, I’m tough. I almost broke Harry today.”

“Too soon, Parker.”

—

It was a normal Monday evening for you, late hours in the lab, the soft sizzling of something on the stove, the heavy chemical smell in the air. Your palms felt sweaty inside the rubbed gloves and the goggles you were using were recently regulated by someone with a smaller head, which resulted in an uncomfortable squeezing of your head, which was about to give you a headache soon. The only thing that was missing in this scene was Peter. In the last few days he had been coming very late to the lab dates. You didn’t think much of it really, he had told you about wanting to spend more time with his new friend - Harry. He felt incredibly guilty about the whole almost-breaking his ribs situation recently and as a compensation, Peter offered to train him. It left you with even more time on your hands, which resulted in a lot of boredom. You were so ahead on class work that there was no point in continuing, you were not trying to graduate early. The second best thing you could think of was helping Peter with his very secret project, and hiding that from him, of course. 

You spent enough hours watching him, observing the chemicals he was using, the way he was combining them and the nervous scribbling in his notebook. You read that notebook a dozen times, filled with chemical compounds, processes, results that were circled in red or scratched out. Most of the research didn’t seem like it was going smoothly for him, he had written things like “failed” all over the pages. And even with chemistry not being the strongest of your subjects, you knew that things were going wrong for him mostly because he had tunnel vision. He had written the key ingredients he was using down and most of his work was based around them - in different proportions, different ways of mixing. But none of them were giving the results he was seeking. After a good amount of time brainstorming you decided this whole thing needed a different approach. The issue was, you thought, in the key ingredients themselves. That’s how you secretly ended up developing your own version of the web fluid formula. You had been trying to use things which you had read would give similar, and preferably better, results in the experiment. For two weeks now you had been using the free time away from Peter to do just that - help him in his work. And it was going well, so well that you actually considered yourself ready by the beginning of the third week. You made sure to write everything down, following his example, so you wouldn’t forget something important. 

You took the jar that had white goo in it, softly bubbling up over the fire and mixed it up with a metal stick. The white goo had risen like dough and it was sticking to the metal as you were stirring it around. You pulled the metal stick up, the white substance all over it, stretching after it. In this exact moment the door opened and Peter barged in, almost out of breath. You head turned, looking at his messy hair, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he was trying to calm his breathing before greeting you.

“Hello, beautiful, sorry I’m late.” He told you, throwing his bag on a chair and putting a lab coat on. 

“Hi.” You smiled at him, placing the jar down on the table. 

He seemed distracted and in a rush, like usual. You walked over to him as he was putting some gloves on so you could fix the collar on his lab coat that got flipped over. He placed a soft kiss on your forehead while you did that. 

“What have you been up to in here?”

“Actually, your work.”

“My work?” His brows furrowed in confusion, making you bite your lip before you took his hand and led him to the table. 

“Well, you’ve been silently working on this whole project for so long now, it’s been months. The one you are very sparse with the details with. But I took the time to read over you notes, plus I've seen your experiments like a million times…” you said, grabbing the jar again and lifting it up for him to see. The metal stick was still inside, you pulled it up and the white substance inside followed it, sticking to it but still moving like melted cheese. “I tried a different approach.”

He took the jar from your hands and inspected himself, playing around with it, touching it with his fingers even. 

“How even-”

“The technology I used is slightly different to yours. And the ingredients too. From what I could understand, you were trying to replicate the functionality and durability of an actual spider web… designed to suit human weight of course. With that being said, the results shouldn’t be absolutely permanent as well, like this thing, it should dissolve after some time, right?”

He nodded, listening to you with a lot of attention. 

“So… I developed this formula, the whole mixture is activated by heat, of course, but once activated it can be stored in these particular qualities, in containers for example. But it does lose these qualities over time, especially when it’s hit by direct sunlight.”

“How much time does it last?”

“Depends on the conditions but… Two to four hours from what I’ve tried.”

He was staring blankly at you, still holding the jar in the palm of his hand. He didn’t really know what to say or do, all kinds of thoughts were running around in his head. He was amazed, absolutely stunned by the way you managed to do this. Peter was also incredibly proud, he could say that much. But the fear of being exposed as Spider-man was bubbling up in his chest, his heart was beating fast, his palms were starting to sweat.

You were looking at him, waiting for him to say something, anything at this point. You were starting to get anxious. Did you fuck up? Did you cross a line you were not supposed to? Was he upset with you? He never asked for your help but you did it anyway. Did you ruin the whole thing for him? The only thing you could hear at this point was the ringing in your ears. 

“You’re a genius!” He exclaimed finally, a smile spreading across his lips as he looked at the worried expression on your face. Your features softened up, a sigh of relief escaped your lips after he spoke.

“Can I look over your notes?”

“Yeah, definitely!” 

You turned around and grabbed the notebook you had been using to write down your research. He skimmed over it, flipping through the neatly written pages. 

“You’re actually brilliant!” he told you after he was done reading it, placing the notebook on the table. “I need to run a couple of tests to check for a few other things but your formula looks so much better than mine.”

“Yeah, sure, take it. I made it for you anyway.”

“Look at you, making your own web fluid formula and you were scared to even do the lab experiments during class a few months ago.”

“My own what? Web fluid?”

It had just slipped out of him. His eyes widened, all the blood left his face. He looked as if he had just seen a ghost. And in reality he had seen a ghost - the ghost of his past, coming back to haunt him again. There was no coming back from this, he was caught red handed and it was his own fault. Not that he wanted it to happen, but he was tired, overwhelmed and overworked. 

It didn’t take a degree in math to put 2 and 2 together and a lot of things were starting to make sense for you now. All the time he was spending in the lab developing a “web fluid”, the random disappearing from time to time, his past Stark internship, the link between Spider-man and the Avengers. It was all adding up. 

“You’re working for Spider-man!” You finally said, like you had come to the most logical conclusion there was.

“I’m what?” He asked almost immediately. His head was a mess, trying to come up with the best possible lie to cover himself up.

“It all makes sense! He knows you from the Stark internship you did back in high school, and he asked you to develop a new formula, right?”

Peter was finding it hard to believe his ears or his luck. Of all the things he could have come up with on his own, none of them could beat the thing you just did. He was sure you would have figured it out by now, after this fatal error he made. And somehow your brain was so overcomplicating the situation so much that you couldn’t come up with the right answers. You had such blind faith in him that even for a split second you didn’t question any excuse he had given you before. He was blinking silently, looking at you. In his mind he was debating whether he should finally tell you the truth and break the most sacred oath he had taken in front of himself. Or if he should continue expanding the web of lies he had created until he himself gets caught up in it. 

“Absolutely, you got me here.”

Shallow and disgusting, he thought to himself, a bitter taste on his tongue as the words echoed in the room. He chose a lie, a dirty lie to the only person who cared for him so deeply, the person who trusted him so blindly. Would you accept him and continue loving him if you knew the truth? And the issue for him at this point wasn’t about the truth anymore, it was about the way he was treating you. His heart shattered when you smiled and hugged him. 

“I knew it! You’re so smart that the actual Avengers need you! You have so many great things ahead of you!” 

Your soft giggle felt like a direct stab to the heart. His shaky hands wrapped around your waist while you hugged him. He held you close, closer than ever before because there was an uneasy, heavy feeling in his stomach that if he let go now, he would never touch you again.

taglist:

(apologies if I missed anyone)

@zeeader @groundclueless @ivyquill @bitchyycapricorn

[pinazee]

First season wrap up:

Okay, to start, i should mention my general opinion on first seasons for shows, especially cable shows, is not to read too much of it as canon. The writers, producers, actors- everyone- are all trying to figure out what works and what doesn’t, so i give them latitude, particularly when it conflicts with later seasons. That being said, i do enjoy jumping through the hoops to make it all fit haha

So heres a few leftover notes i had as i revisited the eps to rank them:

I bet part of Lassie was craving the father figure in Henry, since we find out later his own father passed away when he was quite young. I wonder if thats part of the reason why he became a cop, as they are portrayed as the protectors and in the 80’s they were mainly men (i don’t really remember if he states his reason later, i suspect he did and im just not remembering). So when Henry didn’t meet up to the expectation he had in his mind, i bet it hurt a little more as it reminded him of what he lost :/

I think the other reason Shawn plays dumb so much, besides hiding his genius so ppl believe hes psychic, or for laughs, is because its how he gets people talking. Like in Shawn vs. the red phantom, he purposely guessed the wrong room number so the boys would correct him. My apologies if someones pointed this out before, i haven’t combed through the internet for everyone’s theories 😬 i only now noticed. I’m not the quickest at picking these things up lol

If i had to guess, Shawn didn’t want to be a cop for halloween, he probably wanted to be something star wars related to go with Gus’s Lando. So i wonder at what age Shawn stopped trying to please his dad. But also, why didn’t his mother ever stand up for him?? I’ll come back to her later -_-

I somehow missed it the first time, but shawn clearly asked Gus to come to the dinner and Gus even points out that it was a big deal for henry to reach out. Soo, yeah, shawn obviously didn’t wanna be alone with his dad, and even henry seemed nervous about it as hes pretty drunk.

Shawn has a right to be afraid of pointy things, his dad hid his easter eggs under glass when he was 6! Not to mention he later gets stabbed 3 times! (Also its just a legitimate fear???)

So far the list of Shawns knowledge (things i wouldn’t expect an average person to know) includes (beyond the obvious observational skills, deductive reasoning, reading people (poker), and all things police (marksmanship, police codes, etc.)):

Incredible spatial and physical reasoning skills (knowing how much money could fit in the duffle bag, knowing to rotate the water pitcher to catch the reflection from the tv)

Kurt Vonnegut (well, I didn’t know who he was at least)

How to spell aggiornamento (and probably all words because of his photographic memory)

Handwriting expert

Casually spoke and understood german

Has every road he’s driven mapped in his brain, and likely all of Santa Barbara

Familiar with paint (enough to know to mix latex enamel for no messy drips)

Animal tracks (i went back and forth on this but ultimately decided he must have known what to look for)

And heres a list of Gus’s niche interests:

Forensics

Spelling bee

Safe cracking

Historic rifles

Comic books

Astronomy (even though he was going to the planetarium for the girl)

Law

Local tennis

Online poker

Lastly, Ive decided instead of ranking them, im putting them in tiers. I feel like too many of them are hitting at the same level and I can’t differentiate:

Sweetest, Juiciest Golden Pineapple Tier

Scary Sherry, Biancas toast (ohmygod i just got the biancas toast 🤦🏽‍♀️)

Blue Psych Logo Tier

Weekend warriors

Forget me not

From the earth to starbucks

Poker? I hardly know her! (Sorry @pineapple-psychic!)

Pepto Bismo Pink Tier

Spelling bee

Pilot

She loves me, she loves me not, she loves me oops hes dead

Who ya gonna call?

Shawn vs the red phantom

Oops Canadian Flag Tier

Cloudy with a chance of murder

9 lives

Game set muuurder

Speak now or forever hold your piece

Woman seeking dead husband, smokers okay, no pets

[techwrecker]

𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗔𝗽𝗽𝗹𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝗗𝗲𝗮𝗻'𝘀 𝗣𝗶𝗲

Fandom: Supernatural

Summary: Castiel has never had pie. Dean is flabbergasted.

Genre: fluff? slice of life? It's a short little glimpse into life at the bunker

Tags: SFW, could be canon tbh, no timeline, Dean loves pie, Sam is over his BS, Cas being an angel, Destiel if you squint, kid!Dean, super sweet ending, *not beta read*

Word Count: <3k

Warnings: N/A (please let me know if I missed any!)

Other: dividers by me & @thecutestgrotto (tysm!)

Blueberry, apple, cherry, peach, chocolate, coconut. So many flavors to choose from! Dean scanned the length of the display case, eyes growing wider each second. The Winchester brothers were on their way home after a vamp case in Illinois and Dean had finally managed to convince Sam to stop at “Betsy’s Pie Palace”, known for their extensive pie menu, baked daily.

“Sammy, you’re telling me not one of these pies is something you’d want to at least try?”

“I’ve told you a million times, dude,” Sam rolled his eyes as his pastry-drunk brother. “Pie is horrible for your health.” He checked his watch. It was 7:45pm. They still had another 5 hours to go before they arrived at the bunker. “Dean, can you hurry up? We can’t stay here forever, Cas is waiting on us.”

“You can’t rush a choice like this, Sammy. This is Sophie’s Choice but with pie.” Dean shot back, earning another eye roll from his younger brother.

“Hey sugar, what’ll it be?” the waitress called out with an out-of-state southern drawl. She wiped her hands down the skirt of her white 50’s style apron and adjusted her bright red rockabilly Victory Roll hairstyle.

Dean looked up in a slight panic. There were so many options. One of everything? Yeah right, not even Baby could carry that much pie. “How’s the apple?” he asked, leaning against the counter flirtatiously and giving the waitress the classic Dean Winchester Charm. The waitress met his eyes and Dean flashed her a smile.

“It’s not too bad, much like yourself,” she said, receptively as she blushed.

“Well if it’s as sweet as you are,” he glanced down at her name tag. “Beth, I think we’re in business.” Dean winked at her. She nodded and began to pull out the apple pan.

“Disgusting,” Sam muttered under his breath. He was practically tapping his foot with impatience at. His arms were folded across his chest with his watch turned to where he could watch the seconds tick by. 7:49.

“What can I say, Sammy? A guy’s gotta have his dessert after a hunt like that.”

After packing up a slice of apple, cherry, and chocolate crème, Beth rang up their total.

“It’ll be $9.85, darlin’,” she said, tying the handles of the plastic sack together.

Dean handed her a crumpled $10 out of his wallet.

“Keep the change,” he nodded as he took the bag from her.

“Just so you know,” She exclaimed after Dean as the Winchesters turned to walk out. “There’s a special ingredient in the cherry. I think you’ll really like it.” She winked and Dean smiled. Sam rolled his eyes, yet again. The towering brothers walked out and made their way back to the Impala.

Dean made his way to the passenger’s side and Sam gave him a quizzical look.

“Dude, PIE.” Dean tossed the keys across the roof to Sam. “For a college boy, you aren’t too bright.”

“Whatever, Dean.”

They sat down in the cab and Dean ripped open the plastic sack as Sam turned the key in the ignition. The impala roared to life. Dean popped open the styrofoam lid of the cherry slice and pulled out a scrap of paper. A bright red stain from the filling had crept onto the edge of the paper, causing Dean to lick his fingers.

“Oh-ho, sweet!” He shouted, a huge grin across his face. He held up the paper to Sam. Scrawled across it were 10 digits in perfect handwriting with a heart and a B at the end.

“Yeah Dean, because we’re definitely going to be back in this part of Missouri any time soon.” Sam said dryly.

“Whatever, man. You’re just a hater. And you don’t know that! I might make the trip by myself just for this pie,” Dean argued.

Sam pursed his lips instead of replying. Dean had been irritating in his usual big brother way the entire ride home. Sam pulled out onto the highway and reached over to turn up the music as Dean chowed down on his dessert. Much to Sam’s surprise, his brother didn’t even let a single cherry slip onto the seat.

The rest of the ride was fairly uneventful. No calls about a hunt in the middle of nowhere, nothing from Cas, not even a call from Jody or Bobby checking in on them. They stopped occasionally to fuel up or to hit the head in a grimy gas station bathroom that hadn’t been aired out in decades. Eventually, Dean fell asleep, head against the window as they closed in on Kansas. They didn’t get back to the bunker until around 5am.

“Dean,” Sam shut off the ignition and reached across the seat to slap his brothers shoulder with the back of his hand. He snorted awake. “We’re home.”

“5 more minutes?” Dean managed to get out, rubbing his eyes awake. He raised his head and squinted out the window into the sunshine that was creeping above the trees.

“Just help me, will you?” Sam stepped out of the car and opened the door behind his to gather his duffel and various weapons they had needed for the hunt. He loved hunting, but he was also glad to be home, to sleep in his own bed.

Thanks to their wide wingspan, the brothers were able to carry everything in one trip into the bunker. Heading down the winding staircase, they saw the ever-trenchcoated Castiel sitting at the backlit map table, reading a book. He looked up and raised his hand in greeting.

“Hello, Sam. Hello, Dean.” He smiled at them. “How did everything go?”

“Same old, same old. Few vamps goin’ to town. Nothin’ big.” Dean explained. “The real news is this!” He raised the plastic sack.

“What is that?” Castiel asked.

“Only the best invention, ever!” Dean smiled and set his stuff down on the table. He reached in and pulled out the remaining boxes. “I’m gonna grab a plate. If anybody touches this pie while I’m gone, you’re officially dead to me.” He made the “I’m watching you” motion with his fingers and pointed them once at Sam, and once at Castiel.

“I am confused.” The angel said as Dean left.

“It’s just pie, Castiel.” Sam explained.

“Oh, I see.”

“Whatcha reading?”

Cas lifted the tattered, green book off the table to show Sam the cover. It had the usual hallmark symbols of witchcraft and magic. The pentagrams, upside down crosses, symbols only Rowena could decipher.

“I was looking for ways to protect hunters from witch magic.” He said simply. “It’s been a highly unsuccessful venture.”

“Can’t win ‘em all I guess,” Sam offered lamely, exhausted from the drive.

“Back!” Dean raised the plate above his head and practically jogged back to the table.

“Okay, this has become an addiction. Three pieces in one day?” Sam wanted to say more but knew Dean was already a hopeless case.

“Listen, Sammy, you wouldn’t understand. Honestly, I don’t even know why I love pie so much. I just do,” Dean said as he began to transfer the piece from the box onto the plate.

The brothers sat down at the table, finally relaxing after the tiresome drive home. Cas followed suit, closing the witchcraft book to prioritize communion with his friends.

“I know why you love pie,” The angel said simply.

Sam and Dean whipped their heads toward him.

“What?” Dean said, picking up his fork in order to take his first bite of the flakey dessert.

“Your affinity for pie is built from childhood memories of your mother,” Cas said, still looking at Dean.

“Wow! It all makes sense!” Sam exclaimed, throwing his hands up into the air. “You like pie over everything else because it was the only dessert mom ever made! Dad told me she tried making a cake once and it was a disaster.”

“Shuddup. I like pie because pie is good. Ain’t got nothin’ to do with childhood memories or whatever.” Dean stared holes into the slice he had in front of him.

“Dean, I raised you from hell. Your soul is burned into the back of my vessel’s eyelids.” Cas looked across the table at Sam. Cas had a flair for the dramatic. “Pie is one of the very few pure childhood memories you have.”

Dean stuck his fork into the point of the pie and shoveled it into his mouth. “Gyoo guys fon’t dnow whad your ftalking aboud,” he barely managed to say around the mouthful. He swallowed the elephant-sized bite. “Pie is pie. Everybody loves it.”

Sam and Cas shared a knowing look. Whenever either one of them tried talking to Dean about his or Sam’s childhood, Dean always changed the conversation or turned to humor, telling Sam he’s making their life into a chick-flick. He hates chick-flicks. They looked back at Dean, still inhaling the one of the two pieces in front of him, neither one saying a word. It had almost disappeared in a matter of seconds.

“Anybody who hasn’t tried pie is a monster— I’d stake my life on it.” Dean said into the silence.

“Does that make me a monster?” Castiel tilted his head to the left and squinted at Dean from across the table as if he was trying to get a read on him. Angels weren’t made to fully understand humans, but Cas would be damned if he didn’t try.

“What?!” Dean’s jaw hung open. Sam silently thanked the heavens that his mouth wasn’t full of masticated dessert.

“You’ve never had pie?” He asked incredulously. “I mean, Dean always keeps it stocked in the fridge, and you’ve never had it?”

“Yes, Sam. I, an Angel of The Lord, have felt an intense desire to consume Dean Winchester’s practically holy pie despite the absence to physically nourish this vessel with food.” Cas said dryly.

Cas was practically glaring at Sam. He had really upped his sarcasm game in recent years, the brother would give him that.

He raised his eyebrows at Cas and held up his hands in innocence. “Okay, point taken.”

“No, no, no.” Sam and Castiel looked back at Dean. “This is just unacceptable. It’s… It’s downright unnatural. Cas, I don’t care if you’re an angel or the lowest demon there is. Everybody needs to have at least one slice of pie in their life.” He slid the plate in the angel’s direction in one fluid motion. It stopped directly in front of Cas.

Dean gave a proud look to his brother, boasting his skill. Sam just rolled his eyes.

The angel pushed back his chair to become eye level with the dessert. Noting that the crust did indeed appear to be quite flakey and the filling an overabundance of sugar, he carefully picked up the fork. Skeptically, he looked at Dean (who was almost as excited to see Castiel take his first bite of pie as he was to enter Betsy’s Pie Palace), and then to Sam (who honestly couldn’t care less. Logically, Cas doesn’t need to eat. Why Dean cares so much is beyond him.) and finally submerged the prongs in the slice. After digging out really only a baby-bite-sized piece, he began to lift the fork to his mouth.

“What, so Mr. Angel of The Lord can’t handle a bigger bite than that? I’ve seen bees bigger than that, Cas.” Dean teased. He knew he could push Castiel’s buttons more than anybody and actually manage to get away with it.

Cas closed his eyes in annoyance and while staying silent, stabbed the pie once again to fit more onto the fork. He made sure it was enough to satisfy the human whom he, now with considerable regret, raised from perdition. Had he known saving Dean Winchester was going to cause him this much grief in the long run, he might have let Dean stay down there another year or two and maybe without quite so much enthusiasm. Dean was still anxiously awaiting Castiel’s first bite, not unlike a young angel in the storehouses of Heaven (it makes more sense in Enochian) and Castiel could not help but let his friend’s excitement wash over him in golden warmth. He knew the pie would only taste of molecules and the spaces between, but did not want to let Dean down, regardless.

He stopped the fork just short of his lips. “Dean, I feel the need to remind you that angels can’t-“

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. ‘Can’t taste food like humans do.’ Just eat it already, Cas.” Dean interrupted.

Castiel bit down on the fork. Just as he suspected, there was no “food” flavor, like when he was human. It just felt like a lump of structured mush on his vessel’s tongue.

“That was,” Cas began after swallowing. “A neutral experience.”

Dean deflated in his chair.

“It was worth a shot, anyways,” Sam tried to remedy the situation. “Isn’t there some sort of power-up you can use to taste food again?”

Cas thought in silence for a moment. He supposed there was memory-reaching, but angels really have no use for that outside of getting information.

“Yes, I believe there is. I’ve never used it to explore a pleasant experience before, but it’s worth a shot.” The angel said, looking at Dean.

“Well, what are you waiting f-“

Castiel pressed his first two fingers lightly to Dean’s forehead, immediately searching his friend’s mind for his first memories of pie. Both the angel and Dean were being zipped back through the timeline of Dean’s life. He felt the victory of last week after a hunt when Dean was able to grab the last piece of coconut cream at a gas station. Then disappointment of years ago filled his chest when Sam had brought cake instead of pie, claiming “it was close enough.” Feeling himself putting up a front of confidence, Castiel realized he was in nervous, 17-year-old Dean’s shoes, staring across at a girl of similar age. The two were in a diner, about to share a slice of cherry as an innocent first date. He was so young.

At last, Castiel reached Dean’s first memory of his beloved pie. He found himself staring up at Mary Winchester, in Dean’s stead. He was up to her waist, sitting down. Castiel was bad at approximating ages— side effect of the whole being-an-angel thing— but he knew it was an early memory. She turned around and set a large piece of pie on the table, in front of him. Dean’s eyes, and Castiel’s by proxy, widened as Mary began to speak. He felt his mouth salivating with anticipation.

“Happy Birthday, Dean. I can’t believe my little guy is 4 years old, now!” She smiled at her son and reached down to ruffle his hair. “I love you, Dean.”

“I love you too, Mom!” Little Dean squeaked back.

Castiel felt Dean reach over to Mary in an attempt to wrap his tiny arms around her legs in a hug.

“Go on,” she laughed. “I made my favorite flavor- Apple. I hope you like it!”

Their gaze fell back onto the pie. Gingerly, so as not to drop a single piece, he brought the fork to his mouth. Flavor exploded across Castiel’s taste buds. Sweetness of the sugar, a gentle cinnamon spice, tartness from the apples, savoriness of the buttery crust. It was the perfect dessert.

Castiel retracted his hand from Dean’s forehead and looked at him with a certain softness.

“I understand it’s value now,” he said simply.

Dean looked up at him, slightly bewildered, trying to laugh it off. “Whoa, dude. A little warning next time would be nice,” Dean said, quickly wiping the tear about to fall down his face. He either didn’t remember telling Cas to get a move on or he was just trying to change the subject. He sniffed and cleared his throat, trying to hide the fact that he got emotional upon Cas digging up such a deep memory. Sam hadn’t seen Dean tear up in a long time, leaving him wondering what Cas had seen.

“I wanted to understand pie, and now I do. Thank you, Dean. I now know why pie has such a big role in your life. I would like to try it again, with your memories in mind. I believe it will be… flavorful to me, now, although I’m not quite sure that’s the right word,” Cas explained.

“What do you mean?” Sam asked.

“With Dean’s memories at the forefront of my palette, I should be able to taste pie in a similar way that he does— At least for a while.” Cas explained. “Let me try again,” he pleaded as he put his hand on Dean’s shoulder.

Still somewhat in his head, Dean was brought back to the bunker when he felt the angel’s warm hand.

“Yeah, okay. Sure, Cas.” Dean agreed.

Sam yanked the plate toward where Castiel was standing.

Unlike before, Cas loaded the fork with pie. It was so big, it almost fell off before it made it to his mouth.

Nostalgia intermingled with the chunks of apple and the taste of tenderness only a mother can give swirled around his mouth as he chewed. Castiel sat back down next to Dean and relaxed into the back of the chair.

“Yes,” he began, satisfaction dripping in his voice. “Pie is delicious.”

Dean shot Sam an “I-told-you-so” look, reached across to the plate, and polished off the rest of the slice.

Dean never explained what he saw, or rather what Castiel made him remember, to his brother and Sam never asked. All his brother knew was that it had to have been a good memory for it to affect Dean’s entire view on a singular dessert. Pie, just like his mother, will always share a home on the shelf of Dean's heart.

And Castiel will always hold Dean's heart in his soul.

A/N: this is just a lil thing i wrote last year and wanted to get out of my drafts already! do NOT do the math of traveling. I have no idea what it would actually be. Title is a pun if you couldn't tell lol

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[charmixpower]

what are your hc's when it comes to the specialists hobbies? (+Nabu)

i'm kinda sad we don't really know a lot about them.

YEAH!!! Or if we know their hobbies, WE NEVER GET TO SEE THEM ENJOY THEM??? Unless ur Helia. Pretty people privilege

Sky

Listen, I need you to look at Erendor and Samara and tell me if Sky has a life or any real time for hobbies. The answer is no he does not

Listen dragon equestrian is a thing that exists in the magic dimension and he loves it do not argue with me this man loves it. Riding a dragon and doing tricks, what more could you want out of a sport???

He also spends so much time teaching Lady tricks you'd think he was entering her into a competition. He's not, he is simply having fun

Sky really likes running, and walking. With or without Lady, he is content to run around with this thoughts. It's his favorite form of exercise

I think Sky would enjoy at least some of the royalty approved activities pushed on him, like riding horses and dragons obviously, but also dancing. (Though he would hate learning how to play an instrument or something that required sitting without movement)

I think he'd like the fake duel's and mock battles like fencing over real combat but that's just my version of Sky that lives in my head talking

I don't think Sky is really snobby about anything that isn't tea. Does he argue with other people about which tea tastes the best? Maybe. It's like part because he and Diaspro have opposite tastes in tea and they will argue about anything, part because tea was the only meal he wasn't being hovered over because it's supposed to be a bit more informal than a real meal, half because magix doesn't have all that good tea options

Brandon

He suffers from has no life syndrome too but worse actually bc he's had a government job at 17!!!

Does crafting and maintaining an Instagram presence count as a hobby? I mean I do this as a hobby so I'm gonna say it counts. Making thinking your hot into a hobby, I wish I were him

I have no clue if Brandon genuinely enjoys weightlifting or gymnastics or if he does it because it's literally required of him but I DO think he'd enjoy exercise in general. Like?? He's getting hotter, better able to handle situations, AND it makes him feel great. 10/10 he loves it

I think Brandon would enjoy calligraphy. I have like multiple friends who are on their handwriting bullshit and Brandon would absolutely be one of these people. He'd write exclusively in fancy capital letters while pretending to be Sky, but he also like genuinely knows calligraphy and enjoys it. No one knows cept Sky until Stella wants to write something formally and he writes it for her

Brandon is way too chill of a person, and while I think he's like naturally good at controlling his emotions I also think he does SOMETHING for mindfulness. Reads self help books, does meditation, something that helps him stay so fucking chill all the time

On that topic I also think Brandon likes psychology, like the "why do people act the way they do?" side. Just a little bit, he gets along with way too many insane people to not have at least a little idea

Timmy

He's the least interesting specialist to me in canon so he's where I'm on my bullshit. Listen man we don't need TWO computer wizs, we can have one computer genius and an engineering nerd. For the sake of everyone around Tecna not being the exact same as her AND for my enrichment

Timmy is obsessed with their air crafts. He can talk for HOURS about types of planes, the Owl assigned to their squad is literally his fucking baby and Riven is NOT allowed to pilot it EVER. He lost his mind just a little bit when he's got to pilot a Hawk with Helia, he was so excited. This is definitely his main hobby and why he's in the RF air force track instead of the engineering track, he WILL fly and nothing will stop him

If Legos exist in the magical dimension he's obsessed with them and makes the most insane builds and you know I'm right

Riven absolutely gets Timmy into lock picking. Lock picking is just a logic puzzle that also has a real life application and they spend so much time trying to pick difficult locks when they need a no think thing to do

And speed running, all the specialists have a tendency to just watch him play a video game stupid fast and it's group bonding

Shooting is a sport and one that Timmy enjoys immensely

Riven

Reading. No I'm so serious he's the character shown holding a book the most often. This man reads. Tbh he's probably reading about types of magical animals that specialists are called in to deal with, and their behaviors. That and like lists of forgeable plants

Riven also sews and makes his own clothes! Like it's a restoration thing but also Riven just likes fashion and has very specific ideas for clothes so he just makes them himself.

Riven is the most passionate about sword play and combat. Like it's genuinely fun for him, I think if everyone was set loose they'd drift away from being in the military except Riven. This is his passion. Survivalist stuff is also a huge passion of his. It's his concentration at RF I will never shut up about that hc. His dream job is dealing with magical animal threats in the wilderness, everyone thinks he's just a little insane

That and podcasts. Oh my god the podcasts Riven would have listened to in middle school, cringe worthy, they're EXACTLY what your thinking and it's terrible. Thankfully he listens to calming podcasts and like educational podcasts now, and the occasional true crime one

I'm not sure if lock picking is a hobby for him or if it's just something he HAD to learn, but he takes a lot of pride in it so I'm assuming it's a hobby. Riven likes logic puzzles and that's what lock picking is

Does Riven have an interest in photography or did he print off pictures from Musa's Instagram, the world may never know

Helia

We know the most about his hobbies. Painting, origami, and poetry. Helia is well and truly vibing, and by that I mean I bet you he spends hours agonizing about every detail <3

He probably also has a bullet journal, it's the vibes, do you understand where I'm coming from?

I think Helia would be super into general DIY in every area and at one point he gets Timmy into helping refurbish a chair he found, sometimes he just wants to work on something and that something is a chair he picked up off the curb

Helia definitely picked up how to use his string gloves for fun and to have a body active hobby and he loves it? I think Helia would really enjoy doing things that challenge him and he has the most esoteric weapon so it fits

I also think Helia's glove string weapon is as much of a weapon as it can be used for string art? I think he'd like string art

Helia can parkour and that's on wanting to get the PERFECT angle for his reference piece and know he's 40 ft in the air, Saladin slowly lost his mind when he adopted Helia after his parents died because the kid would not stop climbing on RF

Helia is also a chronic people watcher. At least 70% time when he's people watching he's also drawing them but sometimes he's too tired for that XD

Nabu

Learning about his hyper fixation magic. Listen this man will DEMOLISH a library in a week to learn about the intricacies of runic magic, he is vibrating in his shoes

Okay I know Timmy is the one who you'd assume would like this the most, but I think if you put a ttrpg in front of Nabu he'd fucking love it??? He would either spend 2 million hours world building as the DM or get way into role playing

I think Nabu spends a lot more time fucking around and having fun with his magic than most magic users. Like learning how to make small intricate beautiful things with his magic. I definitely think there would be an art form based around magic that Nabu would be super into that

Nabu absolutely is a history buff too. Like knows about ancient techniques for making things off the top of his head can list most major developments in each century when prompted history buff and I love him

He probably also has a rock collection, this man is autistic and we have rock collections. Sometimes the rocks are magically and that's always exciting

Nabu and Flora spending hours researching a random ass specific phenomenon and having the time of their lives