FP Jones/Andrews family /Riverdale imagines - Oh Dear Part 5

Originally posted by archiiandrews

AN: This fic has gotten such a positive reaction and I’m so glad all of you are enjoying it!

Catch up here: (Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three) (Part Four)

Overall Summary: You’re Archie’s old sister and you have a thing for a certain serpent

Pairing: Reader x FP Jones, Sister!Reader x Archie Andrews, Daughter!Reader x Fred Andrews

Word count: 1,956 (This chapter is a little short, sorry!)

Warnings: Well, FP is clearly older than the reader in this fic,

“You dragged me over here because you can’t find your wallet? That is what you need me for?” You laughed with disbelief, FP only shrugged his shoulders and rose his eyebrows. 

“Hey, the more people, the quicker I find it.” FP said as he continued to look around the trailer to which looked like a bomb site.

You wanted to say some snarky comment about him having any other friends but in all honesty you were happy he had called you and even thought of you when it came down to something like this. 

Keep reading

Before juice: skinny twerp, average haircut and face, normal clothings, not a single ounce of muscle visible at all.

After juice: Arms and forearms have more than doubled in size to meaty proportions, triceps pushing past flesh like solid rocks, delts the size of cannonballs soon to cap out of the shoulders, pecs protuding way beyond his torso and sure to stretch out any shirt he wears now.
Jock haircut, extremely revealing stringer tank, obviously to show off all that new juiced muscle, probably with some dumbass shit written on it, arrogant as hell smirk while taking one of his multiple daily selfies, because he knows he looks amazing.
Yeah, you bet he thinks it was fucking worth it. Next time you don’t even need to wonder why people hop on juice like it’s free candy.
And the best part? No fantasy or magic shit about this. Roids are the real deal.

Siblings Bonds

Rating: K+
Summary: The Vongola are a close-knit group, the Guardians especially. They are the ones who watch over Lambo and take care of him, and so it’s only inevitable that he begins to address them, one by one, as his siblings. 

It was only natural, really, that Tsuna was the first person Lambo felt comfortable calling brother. He lived with him and Tsuna was often the person who took care of him. So when Lambo was six, sitting at the kitchen table with his crayons and paper, he decided he created a masterpiece that Tsuna just had to see.


It took a minute for the brunette to appear, an expression of slight exasperation on his face. “What is it, Lambo?”

“Look at Lambo-san’s drawing!” Lambo picked up the paper and held it out. “Isn’t it the best?”

Tsuna leaned closer and examined the colourful characters. Based on how many stick figures there were, he figured it was a drawing of all the members of their household, though he could only identify a couple of them.

“It’s really nice, Lambo. Want me to put it on the fridge?”

Lambo nodded eagerly and Tsuna went over to the appliance. He found a spare magnet and used it to attach the paper to the collection of drawings that were already there, a combination of I-Pin’s and Lambo’s work. “There. Though we’re going to have to find a new place for your art soon…a fridge is supposed to be a fridge, not a museum.”

Lambo’s stomach gave a rumble and he promptly stuck a hand into his thick, curly black hair. He pulled out a bag of gumballs, but before he could take one out Tsuna snagged it from his hands. “Those are Lambo-san’s!” he cried angrily.

“You can’t always be eating candy,” chided Tsuna. “Besides, dinner will be in a couple of hours. If you’re hungry, I’ll make you a snack.”

He perked up at that. “Okay! Thanks, Tsuna-nii.”

It was a few seconds of looking in the fridge that Tsuna suddenly realized what the child was calling him. He jerked his head up and asked, “What’d you say?”

Lambo gave him a weird look. “Lambo-san said thanks.”

“No, after that!”

“…Tsuna-nii?” spoke Lambo innocently, and when the wide smile crossed the brunette’s face, he wasn’t quite sure why he was suddenly so happy.

And that was the day he officially gained his first brother.

“Are you ready, Lambo?”

The seven-year-old made a fist and punched the middle of his baseball glove. “Ready!” he called, eyes narrowed in concentration.

Yamamoto gripped his baseball and got into his pitching stance. Though his natural instinct was to throw it as hard and fast as he could, he managed to tone down his throw for the small child. “Here we go!”

The ball sailed through the air in a perfect arc. Lambo kept his eyes on it, shuffling his feet as he tried to imagine where the ball would land. He stuck out his glove, by instead of the ball landing neatly inside it hit the ground with thud.

“Darn.” Lambo’s face fell. “I’m not very good at this.”

“You don’t have to be,” said Yamamoto with a gentle smile. “We’re just having some fun. That’s what matters.”

“I guess so,” he sighed. He picked up the ball and tossed it back to Yamamoto, who easily caught it with his baseball glove. He wound up and threw it, but it went too high and sailed past the treeline of the forest that made up the back end of the park.

“Sorry.” Yamamoto smiled sheepishly.

“I got it!” Lambo raced across the grass and towards the trees. He pushed aside some branches and stepped through the tall grass. He found the baseball sitting a few feet away and he hurried towards it.


The soft snarl caused Lambo to freeze, hand hovering over the white ball. He looked up and locked eyes with a raccoon, who lurked in the bushes, watching him with gleaming eyes. “Um…hi,” he greeted, feeling relief that it wasn’t a more dangerous forest creature. “Hey!” he called over his shoulder. “Guess what!”

“What?” came Yamamoto’s amused reply.

“I found a raccoon!” Lambo glanced back at the critter, who was now crawling slowly towards him. The child took notice of the white foam that surrounded its mouth and the menacing way it moved. His eyes widened and he scrambled back in fear. “Take-nii-!”

But Yamamoto was already flying through the trees. Startled by the sudden, much larger intruder, the raccoon snarled and took off. Yamamoto glowered after it before crouching down near the shaken boy. “Are you okay?” he asked urgently, taking Lambo’s arm and checking it for any bites or scratches. “Did it get you?”

“Nuh-uh.” Lambo latched onto Yamamoto’s hand and the older boy helped him up. “What was wrong with it?”

“It probably had rabies,” said Yamamoto, leading Lambo out of the forest. “Raccoons are nocturnal creatures. That means they come out during the night. So if you ever see one during the day, stay away from it.”

“Okay.” Lambo peeked over his shoulder. “Your ball is still in there.”

“That’s okay.” Yamamoto ruffled his hair. “I’ve got lots more at home. I don’t know about you, but I think I’ll stay out of there for a while.”

“Me too. Thanks for coming to get me…I didn’t know something was wrong with it.”

“Don’t worry about it. Besides, an older brother has to look after his younger brother, right?”

Lambo beamed. “Uh-huh.”

And this was the day he officially gained his second brother.

“Kyoko! Kyoko! I want ice-cream!” whined Lambo, pulling on the hem of the redhead’s shirt pleadingly. “Pleeeaaassseee?”

“You can’t have ice-cream this late, Lambo-kun,” said Kyoko patiently, tugging the seven-year-old along the street. “We should have been home an hour ago.”

Lambo looked up at the dark sky. A few stars were starting to appear and the streetlights were on and flickering. It was also getting colder and he didn’t have a jacket with him. “Alright,” he muttered, disappointed. “But can we get some next time?”

Kyoko smiled down at him. “Of course.” She inspected his face and giggled. “You’re going to need a bath.”

Lambo wrinkled his nose. “Why?”

“You’re all sticky from the candy you ate at the movies.”

Poking at his face, he could feel sticky patches around his mouth and on his cheeks. His hair was also rather sticky, due to the amount of candy he had stuffed into his raven curls. “Okay,” he agreed. It was never good to leave his hair unwashed for very long, anyway.

It was eleven by the time they reached the Sasagawa household. Kyoko unlocked the front door and the two headed inside. “Onii-san, we’re back!” she called, setting her purse down by the door.

Ryohei stepped into the front hall from the kitchen, a disapproving frown on his lips. “You were supposed to be back an hour ago. I was just about to go out and look for you.”

“Sorry,” Kyoko apologized. “We were out later than we expected.”

“The movie was looooooong,” stressed Lambo.

Kyoko giggled. “Exactly.”

Ryohei’s stern posture softened. “Well, you’re back safe, and that’s what matters. But next time, if you’re going to be late, call.”

The redhead nodded. “Sure.” A yawn escaped her and she quickly covered her mouth. “Guess I’m beat. Come on, Lambo-kun. Time for your bath.”

“I can do it,” volunteered Ryohei. “You go to bed.”

“I can do it,” protested Lambo.

“You can’t get all that EXTREME hair by yourself,” said Ryohei cheerfully, coming over and swinging the boy into his arms.

Kyoko smiled. “Thanks, onii-san. Goodnight, Lambo-kun.”

“Night!” Lambo waved after his friend as Ryohei carried him to the bathroom. He set the child on the floor and turned the taps. Water started gushing into the tub and Lambo frowned at it. “It needs bubbles.” He went over to the cabinet and opened it. He found the familiar colourful bottle of bath bubbles that Kyoko saved just for him and I-Pin when they came over for sleepovers. “Bubbles!”

“Don’t put a lot in,” cautioned Ryohei. “We don’t want an EXTREME bubble flood.”

Lambo uncapped the bottle and tipped it slightly over the edge of the tub. Purple liquid oozed out and splashed into the water, where it started to foam up and create a mass of white sweet-smelling bubbles. “There!” he said, proud that he did not overdo it this time.

“Good job.” Ryohei took the bottle and set it on the countertop. “That should be enough water for you to get in now.”

“‘kay.” Lambo stuck his hand under the running water to test the temperature. Deeming it not too hot and not too cold, he wrestled out of his dark jeans and cow-print shirt. He yanked off his socks and was about to climb into the tub when he remembered something. “Oh, wait.” He shook his head wildly, and candy of all kinds tumbled from his curls, landing on the floor. His horns soon followed, and after a bit of tugging he liberated a large lollipop. “There!”

Ryohei stared at the pile of candy in amusement as the child settled into the water. “I wish my hair could EXTREMELY hold stuff.”

Lambo blinked. “It can’t?”


“Maybe that’s 'cause you don’t have curls.”

Ryohei laughed. “Maybe.” He knelt down by the edge of the tub and picked up the plastic pitcher. He filled it with water and used it to wet Lambo’s hair. “What did you and Kyoko do today?”

“We went to the park, and then we ate some yummy food, and then we took a walk, and we ate some more yummy food, and then we went to the movies which was really looooooooong.” Lambo used his hands to craft shapes in the mounds of bubbles that surrounded him. “And I-Pin couldn’t come 'cause she’s sick.”

“I’m sure she’ll get better in no time,” said Ryohei, squirting some shampoo into his hand and lathering up the thick black curls. “I think it’s time for an EXTREME haircut.”

Lambo wrinkled his nose. “That’s what Stupidera says. I don’t wanna haircut.”

“If you let it grow any longer it’s going to cover your face. Then how would you eat?”

Lambo’s eyes widened. He hadn’t thought of that. “Um…well, maybe I’ll get a really small haircut. Maybe.”

After a few more rinses and a good dose of conditioner, Lambo was finally squeaky clean. Ryohei hoisted the child out of the tub and gave him a towel. “Where are your pajamas?”

“In my bag, in Kyoko’s room.”

“I’ll get them. You dry off.” Ryohei picked up Lambo’s stash of candy and left the bathroom.

“'kay.” Lambo scrubbed at his hair and face, trying to catch the water droplets before they hit the ground. When he decided he was dry enough, he fit the towel over his head and pretended he was a ghost, moving blindly about the bathroom. The door creaked open a minute later and he shouted, “Boo!”

“What do we have here?” said Ryohei, playing along. “And where did Lambo go?”

“I ate him!” Lambo said in a creepy voice.

“Well, then I guess I’m going to have to make you spit him out.”

Ryohei swooped down and threw the towel-covered boy over his shoulder. Lambo squealed and kicked, trying to escape the teen’s strong grip. “It’s me!”

“Lambo?” Ryohei set the boy to the floor and pulled the towel down so that he could see his face. “It is you. You make an EXTREME ghost.”

Lambo giggled. “I fooled you!”

“You did.” Ryohei handed Lambo his pajamas. “Kyoko is already sleeping, so how about you sleep with me tonight?”

“Okay.” Lambo wiggled into his cow-print pajamas. “But I’m gonna kick you if you snore.”

“Then I guess I won’t snore.” Ryohei lifted the seven-year-old up and exited the bathroom.

Lambo wrapped his arms around the teen’s neck and buried his head into his shoulder. “Ryo-nii, will you read me a bedtime story?”

Surprised for only a moment, a soft smile crossed Ryohei’s face. “I’d love too, Lambo.”

And that was the night he officially gained a third brother.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

How do you suppose the band members would react to an S/O getting an extreme haircut? i.e. Has had it really long for a while then decided to get a pixie cut

2D: When you walk in he does a double take. He likes the change and immediately compliments the your new look. If you dye your hair different colours it gives him a little boost about his own hair

Murdoc: Sure its a surprise but it’s a nice one for him. He didn’t say anything before but he likes shorter hair on you, it suits you and he likes running his fingers through it

Noodle The moment she sees your new hair cut she loves it. Since she has short hair herself she’ll give you tips on what to do with it and she’s always got hair ties and hair grips on hand

Russel When you come back from the hairdressers and he sees how happy you are with it he’s naturally happy as well and compliments it instantly

hetaliameow  asked:

Yay, you're open haha. Can I have some headcannons about a s/o who is thinking of cutting her long hair (mid-back) to a short bob. For Kuroo, Hinata, Suga, Bokuto and Yamaguchi. Thanks ❤️❤️

Kuroo: Although Kuroo would have loved his partner’s long hair, he would understand that perhaps they wanted to change things up a little. Complimenting them on how well their short bob framed their face and brought their eyes out, he smiled at them gently. Even though he wouldn’t tell them, he would internally pray for them wanting to grow their hair back out after getting that haircut. 

Hinata: Hinata would circle his partner with excitement in his eyes, wanting to take a look at them from all angles. With rosy cheeks he would exclaim that their new haircut looked extremely good on them. Hinata would admire his partner for making the decision to cut their hair that short, since he knew that they did like their longer hair.

Sugawara: Letting one of their now shorter locks glide through his fingers, Sugawara would exclaim that the short bob suited his significant other, a reassuring smile on his lips. Although he liked the way they looked with longer hair, he felt like his partner looked more refreshed and elevated.

Bokuto: It would take Bokuto a moment to recognize his significant other, yelling their name in confusion once it dawned on him. Asking them what they had done to his hair, he would quickly retract his comment, telling them that, of course, it looked good, and yet it had come to him like a complete surprise.

Yamaguchi: Yamaguchi would take a moment to gather his thoughts before telling his partner how good the new haircut looked on them. Although he would want to tell them how gorgeous they looked and how cutely their locks curled around their face now, he would go for the shorter version in fear of rambling too much and scaring them away in the process.

Rebel Girl

Requested by @mysteriouscrystalnomad: Reid and the Reader meet some of her old friends from high school. She was in the “badass” group, and it leaves him feeling insecure.

The minute they walked into the coffee shop, he starts looking around, trying to pinpoint which group of people might be the right group. Some of Y/N/s old friends from high school are in town, and they’ve asked her to meet up, an invitation that has been extended to Reid as well. At various tables there are small gatherings. Is it the group with matching navy coats? The table where four books are stacked in the center, people gesturing at them excitedly every few seconds? He’s fairly certain that he can safely rule out the group in the back, with leather jackets and piercings as –

“Doc!” shouts a guy with bright blue hair. He waves in their direction and Reid is about to ask whether not the man means him, until Y/N grins and runs over, leaving him momentarily shell-shocked.

The blue-haired man holds out a fist, and they perform a short, intricate handshake before he claps her on the back, a gesture that is followed by hugs from the others sitting around the table.

“This is your friend?” asks a girl with two nose rings.

Y/N nods, and beckons him over. “Everyone, this is Dr. Spencer Reid. My boyfriend. Spence, this is the gang.” In rapid-fire succession she introduces them – the girl with the nose rings is Gemma, the blue-haired man is Neil, the bald girl is Ebony, the guy with the Mohawk is Nico, and the man with the thick glasses is Yuta.

“So, looks like our Doc found herself a doctor. Impressive.”

“I, uh, I’m not that kind of doctor. They’re PhDs,” Reid clarifies, taking a seat beside Y/N at the table.

Ebony nods, smiling. “That’s just as well. Typical Y/N, always showing us up. Like the locker wars.”

“Oh, now I can’t take all the credit for that,” she laughs. “I wasn’t the only mastermind, after all. Nico was the one who figured out how to swipe the master key without being caught.”

The table bursts into raucous laughter and the hurried mutterings of what he assumes are inside jokes. Feeling entirely out of the loop, he asks, “Locker wars?”

“It’s a long story,” Nico says, in a way tone that clearly excludes him. You wouldn’t get it because you weren’t there. “Essentially it was a large-scale prank involving several members of the student body. Some of whom were rather unprepared for what they found.”

“Oh god, like Nina Vangaard,” interjects Yuta, and they all laugh once more. “Doc, that was absolutely one of your more innovative ideas. I still can’t believe how many water balloons you fit in there.”

Hoping she’ll  be more receptive to his questions, he asks Y/N, “Why do they call you Doc?”

“Well, the six of us were sort of… like a little gang. Or at least, that’s how we fancied ourselves. Causing trouble, making mischief, that sort of thing. But always for good. Like if Robin Hood and the Merry Men were a bunch of leather-clad punk teenagers. So we gave ourselves nicknames. Neil was Operation, because he was always getting hurt and stitched up in some crazy scheme of his. Yuta was Picasso, since he was always getting these crazy tattoos.”

Gemma jumps in as well, saying, “I was obsessed with Rocky Horror, so I was Rocky. Ebony was Queen, since she listened to Bikini Kill exclusively for almost two years straight.”

“Hey, ‘Rebel Girl’ is an amazing song!” Ebony says.

Gemma rolls her eyes. “The Runaways were so much better. Anyways, Nico was the Duke, because he was our de facto leader. And Y/N was Doc, because of the pair of red Doc Martens she always wore. That, and she sort looked out for everyone.”

Especially Nico,” jokes Neil, smirking.

Y/N turns red as Ebony adds, “I think she did a little more than look out for him.”

It doesn’t take much to put the pieces together. Reid glances at Nico, feeling rather self-conscious. Though he’s much taller than the man with the Mohawk, he’s nowhere near as buff. Or intimidating. It’s obvious from the way the others defer to him, regard him, that he’s well-respected in their circle. A leader, one with quiet charisma and a rebellious streak. All of them were pretty hard core back in the day it seems. While he had his nose buried in books. He can only imagine what they would’ve said about him.

Ebony passess him her phone, to show him a photo of the gang. They all wear leather jackets, with various extreme haircuts and piercings. In the middle is Y/N, with hair that is black, a streak of brilliant red in the front, cut shorter than he’s ever seen it. A choker is around her neck, a stud in her nose, and her hands on the chest of a younger version of Nico. The younger incarnation sports heavy eyeliner and a brooding stare, and has an arm wrapped rather possessively around her.

He can definitely imagine what they would’ve said about him.

The photo only serves to make him feel more insecure, excluded from this strange gathering of memories. As they reminisce about old pranks and crazy misadventures, he finds himself wishing he’d just stayed home. He doesn’t belong here. Does he even belong with her at all? She’d told him about getting into trouble as a teenager, but he’d never heard about this group of people in much detail. Six rebels from a bygone era, when anarchy was in. They are nostalgia dressed in black.

“Remember when they dressed up as Sid and Nancy?” Yuta asks, nodding towards Nico and Y/N. “That was junior homecoming, wasn’t it? The year Neil tried to spike the punch.”

“Back when we thought you two were going to get married. When you weren’t masterminding revolution and anarchy, you were trying to outbang even the Sex Pistols,” Gemma adds.

Nico shakes his head, the slightest smile appearing on his indifferent face. “Nah. Marriage was way too establishment for us.” The absence of denial in regards to the sex part doesn’t go unnoticed by Reid. Whoever he was to Y/N, they were serious once upon a time. How does he measure up to this guy? This cool, unflappable rebel?

From what he can gather, they were all as brilliant as they were fearless. Undaunted by life and the rules of society. He tries to distract himself as much as possible until the group finally decides it’s time to go their separate ways, and they say goodbye with that complex handshake, a few hugs, and promises to meet again sometime.

Reid and Y/N have walked a few blocks when she asks him, “What’s bothering you?”

“W-what do you mean?”

“Spencer, I know you. Something’s wrong, you hardly said a word for an hour and half. Did we say something that bothered you? Do you not like them?”

Reid sighs, fidgets with his hands, and tries to find the right words. He settles for just blurting out the truth. “I’m just feeling kind of… lame compared to them. I didn’t realize that’s what your friends were like. You could’ve warned me, you know. About what I was getting into them. And that one of them was your ex? Is that the kind of guy you’re into?” He doesn’t mean for that last bit to come out, but he can’t help it.

She raises her eyebrows, tilts her head as though trying to see something that isn’t quite clear. “Are you jealous, Dr. Reid?”

Obviously so. “I know it’s silly to be jealous of someone you dated thirteen years ago, but I am. All of you were brave and fearless, and I’ve never been that kind of person.” He stares down at the sidewalk, focusing on the little cracks and bumps in the pavement. Embarrassment is nothing new, he’s never seen himself in any grand light. But he doesn’t want Y/N to see him that way. Doesn’t want to lose her.

“We weren’t brave,” she says. “We were reckless, and dumb. And Nico? He’s just a poser. The whole non-conformist thing is such an act. I was into brooding assholes back then, but that’s when I was sixteen. I’ve changed.”

Her hand cups his cheek gently, directing his gaze back to her, and he finds a smile on her face. “Spence, you’re in the FBI. You hunt serial killers, you save lives, and you read more books in a week than some people do in their entire lives. You are the bravest man I’ve ever met. And I love you.” The kiss she gives him is passionate, frenetic. Chaotic.

And he loves it. He loves her. Loves her no matter who she was or who she is or who she’ll become. Sometimes love feels like the most rebellious act. Accepting that sort of love, stronger and truer than he thought he’d ever have, is a revolution.

Back at her apartment, she slips into her bedroom for a moment, and comes out wearing a black leather jacket and that same pair of red Doc Martens he saw in the photo. She marches over to him, grinning.

“My riot grrrl days may be behind me, but you know what they say. You can take the girl out of the riot, but you can’t take the riot out of the girl. Now that this secret has been revealed, I hope you don’t mind me wearing these every day for the rest of our lives,” she teases.

“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”

He wraps his arms around her, taking comfort in the fact that he could spend the rest of his life with her. It takes courage to love that hard. She makes him braver, every day. But he’ll never be reckless with this love, never careless or dumb.

She doesn’t need anyone to take care of her or protect her. But she lets him. And he’ll look out for her until the end of time.

anonymous asked:

Frosting and marshmallow

Frosting~ ‘describe your appearance’

Well for one thing I’m freakishly tall. I have brown hair in a dodie haircut and extremely dark brown eyes. My skin’s pretty tan too, which is reasonable considering i’m partly Hispanic(!at the disco). You’d usually see me wearing extremely over-sized shirts and jeans or my iconic Gryffindor hoodie (even though i’m not a Gryffindor in the slightest??). Basically just imagine 2009 fetus dan but worse and that’s pretty much me.

Marshmallow~ ‘do you sleep with plushies? if so, which are your favourite?’

Of course I sleep with plushies! I don’t have the heart to let them go. My favourite plushie is a Dalmatian doggo pup that I love v much. His name is Edward the VII but I call him Eddie for short. Then there’s a rabbit who for some reason is enby because when I was a wee lad I couldn’t decide whether the bunny was going to be a boy or a girl. Their name is Marzipan and I also love them v much.

The Library

~Based on this artwork~

Nobody talked to Castiel. If it wasn’t entirely obvious based off his extreme appearance (wild haircuts, multiple facial piercings and tattoos, just to name a few traits) it was due to his reputation. The rebel child of the most prestigious family in the town: Cas broke every rule his perfect, obedient older siblings had kept.

Then again, nobody talked to Dean either. And why would they? Another geeky newcomer wasn’t exactly much to celebrate. Dean didn’t really care what others thought, though. He proudly wore his Star Wars T-shirts, tried (and failed) to start a D&D club in the school, and would prattle to anyone who would listen (or, really, happened to be nearby) about his latest obsession.

Cas first encountered Dean in the school library. Both sat alone at neighboring tables, Castiel doodling absentmindedly in his journal, when a voice broke the silence.

“What are you drawing?” Dean craned his neck, though there was no way he’d be able to get any sort of glimpse from so far away.

At first, Castiel ignored him. Nobody talked to Cas, and this strange, awkward kid wasn’t going to be the exception. But his drawing was interrupted again. “It looks really cool.” Looking up, Cas saw Dean standing over his shoulder.

Annoyed, Cas slammed the notebook shut. “Get lost, kid.”

“It’s Dean.”


“I know who you are,” Dean said, adjusting his slightly over-sized glasses, “Everyone talks about you. You’re Castiel.”

Cas glowered. “What of it?” he snapped. Perhaps he’d be able to scare the kid off. The tactic had worked countless times before, after all.

Dean shrugged. “Nothing. I think you’re cool,” he paused, “You mind if I sit next to you? Alastair and his cronies usually come by around this time…”

Alastair. Meanest bully in school, the guy was ruthless in his dealings with other kids; no doubt Dean was a regular victim. Against his better judgement, Cas sighed. “Fine,” he said, gesturing to the seat next to him, “But no talking!” he added as Dean’s face light up into a smile.


Without meaning to, it became a regular thing. Everyday Dean and Cas would sit together in near silence, aside from the usual smile and cheerful greeting from Dean, and Dean would read his book while Cas doodled. Then, one day, Dean showed up late.

His usual cheerful demeanor was gone, and the worn, baggy Star Wars T-shirt sagged in such a way to reveal a bruise on his collar bone. Dean pushed up his slightly oversized glasses, forcing a grin on his face. “Heya, Cas,” he said with a wave, though he groaned when he sat down next to Cas, quickly opening his book to hide his fallen face.

They sat in silence, but the longer it lasted, the more uncomfortable Cas became. Much as he hated to admit it, Cas was worried about Dean. “What are you reading?” he asked, breaking the silence.

“Huh?” Dean looked up, confused.

“The, uh, book,” Cas said, gesturing to it, “What is it?”

Lord of the Rings,” Dean admitted, turning the cover towards Cas, “You can tell me it’s lame, I’ve heard it all before.”

“I’m really not pop-culture savvy,” Cas admitted, “Could you tell me about the book?”

Dean’s brow furrowed, though his eyes started to light up, “Really?”


Dean’s face broke into a wide grin. “Okay, well, I’ll start from the beginning…”

Cas didn’t pick up on everything Dean was saying, but for the first time since meeting, the two had a conversation. As the bell rang, Dean hopped up, blushing.

“Sorry,” he stammered, gathering his school supplies as he tried to get up, “I didn’t realize I’d talked that long.”

Reaching forwards, Cas grabbed his wrist. “Can we do this tomorrow?”

Dean beamed brightly. “Sure! I could teach you all about Star Wars, or maybe Star Trek…” he continued listing off various ideas to himself as he walked out of the library. And for the first time in a long time, Cas found himself smiling as well.

trust me | agents of shield | coulson/daisy | PG13, 2.2k words

The whole stunt with the truth serum (and wow, off topic but SHIELD are even dodgier that she thought) throws her off a bit. He didn’t look like the kind of guy who would go off book like that - something about his extremely-ironed suit, his haircut, his bland face, screamed company-man.

But then something about him didn’t fit the narrative.

#CousyRewatch fic inspired by the pilot. Lots of Daisy introspection.

another thing that this website does that I cannot stand is making these jokes about how ace spectrum people are obsessed with dragons or unicorns or something like that. i know the intent isn’t malicious but it just kinda reflects that people associate absence or lack of sexual attraction with naïveté or just childishness in general.

it’s essentially the same reason why i get kinda angry when i see people constantly draw trans people (especially nb people) with extremely bizarre haircuts. although trans people with that sense of style certainly exist, by making that the popular depiction of the community, basically what you’re communicating is that you see us as not quite “normal” without blatantly saying it