one sock lower than the other

FP Jones/Andrews family/Riverdale imagines - Oh Dear Part 9

Originally posted by riverdalesource

AN: This chapter is a little different… It’s also a little short so I may release the next chapter a little earlier than Friday. 

(Part One) (Part Two)(Part Three)(Part Four)(Part Five)(Part Six)(Part Seven)(Part Eight)

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: 1,335

Warnings: Well, FP is clearly older than the reader in this fic, none really

Before homecoming…

FP watched you leave the trailer with a unconscious smirk on his lips. 

You really were something else. 

He turned to the kitchen and poured himself a coffee, he had to be at Alice Coopers in an hour and if he was honest, he was kind of nervous. 

He knew Alice. He knew that this wasn’t just some social gathering to bring the Cooper/Jones family together but he said he’d go since Jughead seemed so damn excited about it. And in the end, he didn’t care that much about Alice’s intentions as long as his son was happy.

And your surprise visit was enough to encourage him to get through the rest of the evening. Knowing that you would be at the Whyte Wyrm in a pair of combat boots and black washed jeans that clung to you so tightly was enough to help FP through the night. 

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Birthday Girl

Jay Park Smut/ With Fluffy Ending

Word Count: 3,484-So sorry dude

Warnings: Sexual Content, Swearing

Song Recommendation: Jay Park I Don’t Disappoint

A/N: There’s an actual plot so you’ll have to wait for the sexy time. People forgive me. It’s long af because I didn’t know when or where to stop. It’s my first smut so go easy on me.The only person I could think of enjoying this as I wrote it was @smutfictionaddicted.

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An anonymous asker wanted me to comment on a certain analysis of Dipper and Mabel’s relationship, encountered elsewhere on the Internet, which interpreted their bond as a destructive and unhealthy one. Anon shared the original analysis with me in full, but was kind enough to provide me with a point-by-point summation of the poster’s arguments, each of which I will address herein.

A) Mabel may learn lessons, but she easily forgets them later on and doesn’t actually tangibly change as a person and doesn’t actually learn anything as her behaviour is still roughly the same.

Mabel’s a more static character than her brother, I grant you that. Dipper’s the protagonist, and as such the character whose growth is the series focus; he’s an avatar of creator Alex Hirsch himself, so there’s a lot of gentle self-deprecation in the way he’s written. But I tend to think that, in terms of story, it makes sense for Mabel to maintain a certain childishness, because that part of her comes to a head during the Weirdmageddon arc, when she has to choose between eternal childhood and the hard reality of growing older.

Dipper himself doesn’t change much during the series; he learns various smaller lessons to the effect of “just let things happen and don’t try to rush them,” but, until the finale, fails to fully imbibe the larger lesson about growing up. The events of Weirdmageddon give us Dipper at his best; he sheds the pervasive need to be seen as an adult that has characterized him from the beginning and in so doing appears at his most mature. He becomes a realist. He stops getting in his own way. At the same time, Mabel relinquishes her selfishness, the world which revolves around her, and her unwillingness to move forward, even granting Dipper the freedom to stay with Ford if he so chooses. They each grow in a far more definite way than they did over the course of the series proper, in which their character flaws were excellent plot fodder. (It’s also worth noting that in the show, as in real life, maturation is a process; we tend to revert to type, and it’s rare that one definitive “lesson” alters our tendencies. We have to learn again and again.)

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Citizen’s Soldier - Sam x Reader AU

A/N Note: Finally back! I feel like this part is a bit lacking compared to the last two, but it’ll pick up a little more the next part. Feedback as always is GREATLY appreciated. Love y'all, and hope you all enjoy!

Previously: One | Two

@kazchester-fanfiction @unefemmedelettres @16wiishes@whatsupmara@faegal04@arryn-nyx@ellen-reincarnated1967@growningupgeek@babypieandwhiskey@jared-padaloveme@pabegay1@fanfictionwhore@supernaturalshenanigans @mrssamfuckingwinchester @itssryleee @gallifreyansass @killerofthesouth @thirtysevenacrinests @sarahcrystalheart @cozyjaws @sanityoverrated27 @impalaimagining @helloitsfernyas (Tagging both people who asked, and some who had commented on the previous part and/or had asked about more. If you don’t want tagged, please let me know, and I’ll remove you from the list!)

Warnings: Eventual smut. Amputated (healed) limb description. Mild victim blaming (don’t know what else to call it). Still pretty mixed up Sam characterization. VERY sparse editing. I believe that is all!

Word Count: Roughly 4200

Your head was throbbing when the alarm pulled you out of the comfortable blackness that had enveloped your mind. You might have fallen back asleep if it weren’t for the fact that you didn’t shut it off, but someone else. And a deep groan sounded from beside you afterwards. A masculine noise that bordered on inhuman. As if they were in serious pain.

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A Matching Pair

Author’s note: A silly old one-shot that I found and just had to finish because Reigisaaa~ //rolls around 

Summary: Nagisa and Rei get into a pointless argument because Nagisa always wears mismatching socks and Rei hates it. Nagisa’s not going to give in, though, so Rei decides to use tickling as a weapon.

It was common knowledge that Nagisa wasn’t a very organized person, which was the reason why they – when they had been looking for one – found an apartment that had at least one study room so Rei could have it for himself and do his own thing. They did, however, share a bedroom of course, and Rei had to deal with Nagisa leaving his clothes, notes, books and all his other stuff lying around and on top of that, didn’t make his side of the bed. Even after their weekly cleaning routine, it would all be out of place at the end of the day, much to Rei’s surprise.

The same thing applied to their dressing habits. While Rei always spent a good twenty minutes deciding on what would be appropriate to wear to class, Nagisa merely grabbed the first neon-colored shirt he found with some matching (read: not) shorts and went with it. Something like he was wearing right now: bright yellow shorts with a rather large pink sweater that kept sliding off his shoulder and covered his wrists. The only thing that he could think of that was slightly off, was the fact that he wasn’t wearing matching socks, something Rei found very important.

It wasn’t that he wanted to annoy Rei, or anything, he just didn’t care. He was usually in a hurry in the morning and didn’t have time to find a matching pair. Almost all of his socks were scattered across the room and it would be an absolute pain to go through all of them when he was just going to wear shoes over them, right?

At least, that made sense in Nagisa’s head. Not the least bit in Rei’s head and he was about to snap.

It was late and they were watching anime because they had another hour to kill before they had to go to bed. Nagisa was sucking on a strawberry flavored lollipop, his legs sprawled across Rei’s lap and supporting his head with his arm, eyes glued to the TV. Rei, on the other hand, could only look at Nagisa’s feet. The right one was wearing a bright green sock and the other an orange one. Earlier that day Nagisa had laughed at Rei for mentioning it and brushed it off with a, “Silly, Rei-chan. No one cares.”

I do.”

“Hmmm,” Nagisa had hummed teasingly and then stuck out his tongue. “Well, then I guess you’ll have to deal with it.”

From the corner of his eyes, Nagisa saw Rei eyeing his socks accusingly as if they had slapped him in the face. It was really hard to stifle his laughter upon seeing his expression and Nagisa decided to take it to the next level. Focusing his eyes back on the screen, he wiggled his toes a bit and quickly covered his mouth when he actually heard a small groan.

This was just way too much fun. Rei was offended by a pair of socks.

Nagisa was about to do it again when he felt Rei circling his fingers around one of his ankles and yanking his leg into the air. A loud yelp filled the air as Nagisa dropped his lollipop onto the floor and clumsily fell onto his back.


Trying to look as innocent as possible, Nagisa looked up at his not-so-very-happy-looking boyfriend and put on a sweet smile. “Yes?”

“Either you start wearing matching socks or take them off. They’re annoying me.” 

“I can tell,” Nagisa answered, totally unimpressed.

Apparently Rei didn’t like his attitude very much and pulled harder so Nagisa was practically lying on his lap. This position would have appealed to him hadn’t Rei been holding his foot in the air. He wasn’t really angry, rather annoyed, and simply looked at him like a scolding parent would. Something Nagisa was already pretty used to.

He experimentally wiggled the foot that was stuck in Rei’s grip, but his ankle wasn’t going anywhere soon. “Does it really bother you that much?”


“But it’d be way too much effort to look for a matching pair in the morning. Plus, I don’t have time,” Nagisa countered and squirmed uncomfortably at the thought.

“Then get up earlier.”

“Ugh, no.”

“Nagisa-kun,” Rei lowered his voice and Nagisa knew that was never a good sign. “I will throw all your socks away and replace them all with white ones if I have to.”

“But white socks are so boring!”

Not even looking away, Rei reached for Nagisa’s foot with his other hand and started peeling the sock off. Nagisa’s eyes widened and he tried to stop him, but Rei easily pushed him back down and peacefully continued. This led to a messy wrestling competition; the kind Nagisa always lost because he was smaller and more petite than Rei, and eventually they both rolled off the couch. The orange sock was still in Rei’s hand while Nagisa’s green one only covered half of his foot.

Rei lunged and Nagisa quickly dodged, grabbing a pillow from the couch to shield himself. Quickly making a plan in his head, he threw the pillow at his boyfriend who skillfully jumped to the side and Nagisa reached for the orange sock while he was distracted.


A strong hand grabbed his lower leg and pulled him back before he could stand up and run away and Nagisa laughed while kicking his free leg around aimlessly. Rei tried to grab the orange sock when Nagisa’s hand was within his reach, but Nagisa held it above his head with a cheeky grin

“Fine. I guess I’ll have to use a different tactic, then.”

His voice was so calm that it honestly scared Nagisa to death but he ended up blinking at Rei who rose to his feet, still holding Nagisa’s leg. “Uh, Rei-chan? What’re you do-ingggg no!”

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anonymous asked:

I loved that Clarke/Lexa/Raven drabble you wrote. you made a shipper out of me. Could you write something else in that universe, like maybe a conversation between Lexa and Raven about Clarke?

Groaning, Raven finally gives in to the heat and light pressing against her eyelids and blinks them open. She glances to the clock on the bedside table. 7 AM and the curtains are wide open–that’s all the information she needs to know that Lexa was the first up this morning.

Raven pushes up into a sitting position, rubs the sleep from her eyes, and crawls out of the large bed to head toward the bathroom. She is still wearing Clarke’s over-sized sweatshirt, because it is her favorite piece of clothing in the entirety of their closet, and her tiger-striped panties. Stopping briefly at the dresser, she pulls on a pair of Lexa’s tube socks, because the wood floors are frigid bitches, and she hates having cold feet.

After a brief stop in the bathroom, she makes her way into the kitchen, following the glorious scent of bacon, and Raven can’t help but smile at the sight that greets her.

Leaning against a cabinet, her toothbrush poised between her teeth and her lips foamed up with toothpaste, she watches as Lexa stands in front of the stove, already fully clothed and cooking breakfast. Lexa bops her head in time with the soft music spilling from the Bose Bluetooth speaker on the counter and subtly works her hips back and forth. She’s never been one to cut loose and dance like no one is watching, even when no one is watching, but just that slight, subtle bit of movement is enough to cause a stir in Raven’s belly.

Raven quietly skirts around the counter and spits her toothpaste in the sink, leaving her brush on the counter, before sneaking up behind Lexa. She slips her hands over Lexa’s bony hips as she presses the front of her body to Lexa’s back and ass. Feeling Lexa jolt at the surprise touch, Raven lets out a raspy, sleepy laugh and kisses her girlfriend’s shoulder blades through her shirt. She then works her hips against Lexa’s, rocking them back and forth in time with the music.

Lexa allows it for a moment before turning in Raven’s arms, one brow arched and a smirk pulling at the corner of her mouth. “Since when are you in a good mood this early in the morning?”

“Since you’re dancing and making me bacon,” Raven replies, toothpaste still smudged around the corners of her mouth.

Rolling her eyes, Lexa reaches out with her thumb and wipes away the paste. “I wasn’t dancing, and who says this bacon is for you?”

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thefavouriteanon  asked:

God, you scrub my soul like a carrot with your K fics. K/Adam; things you said at the kitchen table.

If you are referring to how, when you make carrots you have to strip all the outside parts off with that sharp ring-shaped thing I cut my hand on in the drawer all of the time then yes, writing about Kavinsky does that to me too. ❤ I feel woefully unqualified to write this pairing for you, but I hope this is okay?

Adam Parrish is standing in Kavinsky’s kitchen, pale and rumpled and nervous, and Kavinsky still almost can’t believe his luck. He’s sure the teacher who paired them up on this stupid Physics project doesn’t know what he’s done, how he’s delivered a sheep right to the wolf’s doorstep. Dropped off by Lynch no less, brought to him cradled in the teeth of another wolf. And Kavinsky has dreams, brutal and beautiful and maddening, but none of Kavinsky’s dreams have quite matched the utter possibility he feels thrumming beneath his skin as he stands here in the doorway trying to decide how to strike.

Almost none of them. Just Prokopenko, he figures.

Adam pulls several books from his bag and then reaches out to touch the simple machines Kavinsky has left on the table in preparation. He taps one end of the lever and it wavers over its fulcrum but doesn’t fall.

“It’s perfectly balanced,” Kavinsky says, swooping in behind him and dropping his laptop off on the table before swinging around to the fridge. He opens the door and pulls out a beer, turning to hold it out to Adam. “Want one?”

Adam looks at him, eyes full of disdain, and a small thrill runs down Kavinsky’s neck. Adam ignores the beer. “How did you balance it?”

“With fucking science,” Kavinsky says, slamming the door to the fridge and popping the cap off the bottle.

He actually doesn’t have any idea. He’d dreamed them, light and minimally flexible, made of a carbon fiber so black it seemed to pull light into it. He’s very proud of the lever in particular. No matter what you stand on it it won’t unbalance. He’s hoping it will help him with a test of his own in entropy.

How much madness is there constant in a dormant state in a battered boy and what does it take to draw it to the surface?

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