messy blankets

Cuddling A Nightmare

Fic Request: 

“I am so supper sorry I know u have a ton of requests and u did something kinda like this in bitter p.02 but can u pls do one were anti wakes the reader up from a nightmare and just snuggles and cuddles cause I have been having nighmares that won’t leave me alone? thank you o very much!”

*Screams* ANOTHER ANTI FIC! Woohoo! 
Hope you guys enjoy! 

Originally posted by doctor2110

His hand made you jerk into reality. You gasped, tearing away from Anti as you clawed at the phantoms that followed you from your nightmare. 
“Whoa,” Anti said, “Easy, it’s just me.” 
You shivered, suddenly cold. You felt the goose-bumps on your skin as you rubbed your arms, trying to get some warmth into them. 
“S-Sorry,”  You muttered, gazing around the room. “Bad..Bad dream.” 
“I could tell,” Anti said, irritation biting at his words. “I could hear you down the hall.” 
You winced, “Sorry. They’re getting worse.” 
Anti hummed, watching you with a slight glow in his eyes. The light from his gaze illuminated the room, scattering the shadows that started to mock the edges of your imagination. You sighed, finally calming. 
“Thanks for waking me, Anti,” You said with a small smile. “This is the third time you’ve done this.” 
“Don’t mention it,” Anti said, “But with this third restless night, I’m staying in here.” 
“Huh?” You replied. “You..You don’t have to.” 
“I know,” Anti said, gathering the messy blankets and throwing them over you. “But I can’t be bothered walking back to my room, now.” 
“Fine, but if you’re sleeping in here, we’re cuddling!” You snapped jokingly. 
“Deal,” Anti replied. His answer took you off guard, but you settled back into the blanket and snuggled against his side. 
Anti slept on his back, cradling you against him with one arm and the other resting over his chest. 
He was so much warmer than you were. He made a noise when you nestled against him. 
“Jeez, you’re freezing!” He exclaimed. 
“No turning back now!” You told him, hugging his side. “You’re committed to this.”
Anti grumbled and laid his head on your pillows.
With your head resting on his shoulder, you could faintly hear his irregular heart-beat. His breaths were slow and deep, a slight whistle slipping from his nose when he exhaled. 
He was already asleep. 
You closed your eyes, trying to sooth yourself into a slumber. But you found that sleep wasn’t ready to have you yet. 
You tossed gently, rolling so your back was against Anti’s side. You tried to find a comfortable spot, but no matter how you positioned your legs, they felt wrong. 

You sighed softly, trying not to wake the sleeping entity beside you. 
After another careful roll, you settled in the same position a few turns ago. With your back squashed against  Anti and your head on his forearm. 
It would have to do.
You felt Anti move behind you, he rolled against you, his right arm draping over your waist and pulling you flush against his chest. 
His face buried itself into your hair, his whiskery chin tickling your neck as he nuzzled you. 
“If you don’t stop moving, I’m gonna wrap you up in this blanket and make you into a burrito.” Anti mumbled drowsily into your hair.
You smiled a little and stirred in his arms, enough to make yourself comfortable again. He made a quiet growling sound and tightened his embrace around your middle. 
“I’m comfortable now,” You notified him. You were answered with a sleepy hum and a little less restraint on your stomach.
You closed your eyes, concentrating on the warm breath that washed over your cheeks. You found yourself slowly drifting off, but deep sleep played at the edges of your consciousness.
Mocking you. 
A pleasant sensation opened your eyes again, to find Anti’s hand caressing your upturned palm. He drew circles on the smooth skin, running his fingertips long the lengths of your fingers and then grazing his thumb over your wrist. 
You closed your eyes again as he continued the pattern. 
He started drawing designs on your arm, the tips of his fingers fluttering over the skin. His legs tangled with yours, somehow drawing you closer as you started to fall back into the nightmare. 
“I’m here,” He whispered into your ear. “Those creatures in your mind are no match for me. Sleep now, and I’ll keep them away.” 
He watched your face relax, slacken with sleep as the shadows in your head dispersed into empty sleep. 
He settled back into the pillow, maintaining the same movements with his fingers until he too fell into sleep.

It’s Nice Out

Requested!

Send me more! I’m loving your ideas. 

He watches her from inside. He can’t help but just stare at her and how perfect she is. 

Book in hand, hair in a messy bun, blanket over her lap. 

The sunset around her, making her glow. 

He steps out onto the balcony with his guitar, wanting to join her. She looks up and smiles.

“Hey you.” She places her bookmark into her book, closing it. 

“Can I join you?” He asks with a small smirk playing on his lips. 

She looks up at him with a wide smile.

“I thought you’d never ask.” She teases. He takes a seat next to her as she scoots closer. 

“What are you reading?” He asks taking the book into his hands. He looks over the front and back cover as she starts explaining to story. He really isn’t listening because she goes through books like he does guitar picks and they always seem to be about the same thing. But the spark in her eye that she gets when she starts talking about a book is something he could stare at for the rest of time. 

“You aren’t even listening.” She laughs as she takes her book out of his hands.

“Not true.” He says shaking his head.

“Oh yeah, what’s it about?” She asks raising her eyebrows.

“Um it is about, um.” He tries to think.

What the fuck is it about?

“I’m sorry but it was your eyes that distracted me.” He says shrugging.

“You say that every time.” 

“It’s true every time.” 

“Cheesy.” She laughs as she opens her book again. 

“Do you mind if I play, I promise to be quiet.” He says looking at her through his lashes. The last time he played while she read he got a little too excited and she made him put his guitar away. 

“Promise to play softly?” She smirks at him. 

He smiles and nods. He starts picking at some random song and she get’s lost into her book.

They both lose track of time, her lost in another world and him lost in the music. 

It’s peaceful, and he just stares at her as he plays. Noticing how she slightly mouths the words while she reads. How her eyes scan the page, how she smiles when something cute has happened in the story. 

He never thought that he could love her more than he does, but just sitting here with her. Not speaking, barely looking at each other. He knows that she’s the one for him, the one he wants for the rest of time. 

“I love you.” He says softly.

She looks up from her book after a few seconds and meets his gaze. 

“I love you too Baby.” She smiles. 

Daring (Short)

Note: Just something I literally put together because I’m having so many feels right now omg. (Credits to gif owners)

To say you were excited Kai was back was an understatement. He showed up at your door last night. The night was filled with crying so hard you ran out of tears and laughing and screaming in excitement to the point you lost your voice. Five years. Five years you went without him next to you, holding you at night. And here he was, without explanation back from the dead. And you were pretty sure he didn’t have a head…

But you could only focus on the fact he was here with you. Your night was filled with sex and lots of it. There you were, in your bed with one of his old shirts draped over your body messily. Kai was using the shower, he offered for you to join but you needed time to reflect how happy you were. Without him questioning the smile on your face. Because believe it or not, Kai was a very curious guy.

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Love Woo - Remus Lupin Oneshot

Character: Remus Lupin.
Era: Marauders Era.
Gender: Female.
Warnings: Talk of scars.
Info: No house or blood status is mentioned. Just some short fluff.
Summary: When you and Remus decided to miss out on the Quiddich celebrations, you find it hard to debate whether to go and retrieve your friends or not when you’re so comfortable.
A/N: You should read this because it had drunk Sirius and James near the end, and that part is actually one of the favourite things I’ve ever come up with.

Originally posted by pleasingpics

Originally posted by relationshipaims


Despite it being 2 in the morning, you could still here the whoops and mull of the Gryffindor house in celebration, despite them celebrating the quidditch success since 5:30 the previous evening.

Remus came out of the bathroom and admired you for a short moment. The dull flicker of the lights made the dimly lit room cosy as you sat with your legs crossed on his bed, his Gryffindor jumper wrapped warmly around you, joggers and fuzzy socks as you turned your head and smiled at him.

He walked over and jumped onto the bed, leaning over to kiss your cheek before slumping back to lean on one of his arms.
“We should try and drag Sirius and James up to bed.”
“What about Peter?”
“If he’s been trying to keep up with those two, he’ll be passed out already. And if we don’t do something soon, then so will Sirius.” You explained as he groaned, giving you a cheeky smile.
“Can we not leave them?” He suggested as he shifted closer to you.
“No, we can’t.” You said, giving him a pointed look but not being able to hide your smile.

“Just for a minute? Or ten?” He suggested, placing his forehead on yours, pushing his lips to yours as you giggled, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you back with him, his head hitting his pillow as you squealed and his grip on your waist tightened.
“Oh no, looks like we can’t go get them now, what a shame.” He said with mock disappointment, moving his foot to try and move the covers further up the bed.

“And I thought you’d be the one to help your friends.” You teased back as he finally managed to stretch his free arm to drag up the duvet to encase you both.
“I am not my brothers keeper.”
“Wow. Quoting the Bible. I didn’t know you read anything other than DADA textbooks.”
“Well, it might as well be fiction.”
“Says the magical werewolf who won’t go get his friends from a party where they were celebrating chasing an enchanted ball on flying broomsticks.” You retorted, sliding off his body to lay your ear on his pillow and your body to the side, inviting the warmth from the duvet.
“Touché.” He replied with a chuckle as you kissed his collarbone before laying your hands on his bare chest before quickly retreating them backwards.

“Merlin Remus, you’re freezing.”
“Noooo, your hands are warm.” He complained like a child before gently taking your wrists and placing the warm palms on his cheeks as he closed his eyes and kept them there whilst he soaked up the warmth.

“Maybe if you didn’t walk around shirtless so much you wouldn’t be so cold.”
“It’s hard when you’ve taken my jumper, isn’t it?” He said, raising his eyebrows cheekily.
“This isn’t the only piece of clothing you own!” You exclaimed as he laughed and pulled you closer, his nose against yours.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” He whispered as you smiled up into his eyes.
“So are you.” You mused.
“Yeah. The scars are real beautiful.” He said sarcastically as your hands trailed their way down to the dips in the skin by his ribs.
“They are. They’re a mark of how strong you are. Of how you’ve survived. It lets me know that you can be hurt and safe when you’re out there.”
“You shouldn’t be worrying your pretty little head about anything when I’m out there.” He said, placing his lips on your forehead for several seconds.
“I like worrying. I’m very good at it.” You informed him as he laughed, looking down before he put his lips against your, your heart thumping as his lips moved slowly against yours, his bare chest pressed up against you and his arms pulling you in by the small of your back.
It was beautiful. It was loving and sensual in the most innocent way.

“Mmm. I don’t like you anymore.” You sighed against his lips softly as his eyes dragged open as he chuckled, staring gently at you.
“Why?”
“Because now if I want to get the boys up here, I need to get out of here, where I’m warm and snuggly.” You complained, pushing your cheek against Remus’ chest where he now lay on his back.

“Or… We could just lay here, allow them to be teenagers and allow them to make their own mistakes.” He shrugged as you looked up and met his eyes.
“Oh God. We’re an old married couple already, aren’t we?” You joked as he tightened his grip your body and kissed the top of your head.
“It’s not the end of the world.” He said, and if on cue, the duo stumbled in.

“Hey look. Moony. And Mrs Moony.” Sirius beamed like he’d just discovered something amazing.
“See. Now you don’t have to get out of bed.” Remus whispered in your ear.
“James! James, Moony is whispering, they’re talking about us.”
“We weren’t Pads.”
“Promise?” He asked like a four year old.
“Promise.” You confirmed as he giggled and flopped into bed.

“I’m a Dementor. Oooohhhhhhh.” A figure shaped like James said, running around the room in a blanket.
“Prongs, please go to sleep.” Remus asked as Sirius went:
“Moony. Moony. Moony. Moony moony moon moons.”
“Yes?” He said unimpressed.
“Make sure Y/N doesn’t watch me getting changed.”
“I won’t Sirius.” You told him.
“I don’t trust you.” He stated simply as Remus chucked the duvet over your head.
“See. She won’t look.”
“Thanks Moony, love wooo.” He said blissfully.
“Ha. Love woo.” You mocked as Remus kicked your leg.

“Y/N?”
“Yes?”
“Why doesn’t Lily love me?”
“Oh God. He’s that type of drunk.” Remus muttered as he pulled the covers back to let you see again.
“Omigod! Prongs, Y/N was here the entire time!” Sirius gawked, now in a different shirt and his boxers, stumbling through the room.
“Maybe it’s not that she doesn’t love you, she just doesn’t realise it yet.” You told him gently as his pout and the sad flop of messy hair with the blanket around his shoulders made him look like the sad kid who was told to stop playing superheroes.
“But will she ever?” He asked, pouting.
“I tell you what James, why don’t you go to sleep and we’ll go to the Astronomy Tower and look in the crystal balls tomorrow morning?” You said. Neither of you had the talent or ‘the gift of sight’ as it was put but Prongs usually forgot this in his drunken state and nodded thoughtfully as he got under the covers fully clothed.

Sirius, however, was still skipping around the room.

“Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Hoggy Hogwarts, teach us something please!” He sang, jumping about the centre of the room.
“Pads.”
“Yes dearest?”
“Will you pass me the map please?”
“No!”
“It’s for Moony.” He looked at you suspiciously before waddling over and handing you the paper before you grabbed his hand and told him:
“Beddybyes now.”

“Yes Mummy Moony.” He muttered, letting your hand fall as he climbed into bed and turned your head to Remus.
“Peter okay?”
“He’s in the common room, he’s fine.” Remus said, muttering:
“Mischief Managed.” Whilst you brought the dim lights to darkness and placed your wand on the windowsill next to the bed.

“Y/N?”
“Yes?”
“How do I get Lily to love me?” James asked, Sirius already snoring as you found a comfy position in Moony’s arms and began to drift off.
“Give good hugs.”

starrbomb  asked:

Sick kolivance? Lance is super sick with some space bug and Kolivan tries his best to take care of him, but the way to take care of a sick galra and a sick human are pretty different. So he gets a few things wrong, but makes up for it with cuddles and ice packs. Ps love kolivance thanks to you and wafflewalks!

 Lance is a shivering, whining, coughing mess.  He’s been that kind of a mess for two days now, and Kolivan no longer knows what to do.  It’s confusing him why Lance isn’t getting any better when everything that was done for his aid would’ve worked perfectly for any galra, and he had initially assumed that there weren’t that many differences between species.

 Perhaps… perhaps he had been wrong?

 Frowning, Kolivan runs his fingers through the locks of hair sticking to Lance’s forehead due to the sweat.  The action makes the human groan and lean into the touch, and Kolivan freezes, taken by surprise with such responsive reaction.

 “‘S cool…,” Lance mumbles, voice reduced to a frail wavering sound, “goo’boy…”


 That makes Kolivan’s thoughts come to a halt.  Now it’s clear he’s been doing everything wrong, and if he wants the human to feel better, he needs to correct his mistakes.  

 Internally, he mourns the absence of the other paladins.  Had they been there with them, then Lance recovery would’ve been faster and with less… incorrect approaches.  But they had left for a mission, allowing Lance to stay behind since they all had noticed just how sick the blue one was, and that left Kolivan in charge, though temporarily.

 They all should’ve realized that Kolivan wasn’t, perhaps, the best choice at that moment.

 

 “Wait here,” he tells Lance, who is hidden under a messy bundle of blankets, before walking out of the room towards the medbay.

 He finds in a special container cold to the touch packs that look like thick, folded cloths.  He believes these objects will help, so he directly carries the entire container with him back to the bedroom.

 Frowning at the top lid as he walks, he sincerely hopes Lance will get better soon.  Him being sick not only leaves them vulnerable and at disadvantage, but also – Kolivan does really care for him.

 Maybe, as an apology for his mistakes, he could let Lance cuddle on his chest for as long as the human wishes to.  He figures it’s only fair.

Simple Man (Part 3)

Originally posted by justjensenanddean

Summary: Reader and Dean might finally be starting to get along?…

Part 1 Part 2

Pairing: cop!Dean x reader

Word Count: 1,900ish

Warnings: language

A/N: Last part later today!…


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Custom Malfoy Moodboard : Priscilla
Requested by: Anonymous
Warnings: Angst, Intended repetition, mild adult language, implied sexual mentions
A/N: I used a line from Rupi Kaur at the very end so credit given to whom it’s due.

She was beautiful; gentle and chaotic, bold yet composed. Capable of being both the doe-eyed deer and the hunter, and he knew he’d be a fool to forget it.

Until he did.

She was soft skinned with sharp eyes and frail hands that would never hint at how many walls they’ve hit. Cigarette smoke and combat boots with silk hair bows and tulle tutus, he simply couldn’t wrap his head around it. Every step she took was graceful but feared, calculated but easy and he envied her, admired her, ached for her.

She was challenging and perhaps, being a seeker, he enjoyed the chase. Perhaps he liked the casual teasing and cutesy twirls of her hair. The winks in charms class and too-close-for-comfort whispers in the corridor. Perhaps he found excitement in their secret sexcapades in the broom closet and sneakaways to the Astronomy Tower.

Until he didn’t.

Months passed and she still played this game with poise but Draco’s poker face was waning, as was his patience. Where did he go wrong? He had wrapped her hair in his fist, left hickeys on her hips and tasted her tongue yet still, somehow, she was intangible.

Every interaction became indignant, the sex became spiteful but she remained indifferent and this angered him. He couldn’t stay away despite his better judgement, despite the warnings from wary friends and the weight of his heart sinking into his stomach at the sight of her. She didn’t think twice about him sneering at her in Snape’s class and the distant stares of disdain in the Great Hall. She didn’t mind the passive aggressive pinching of her bum in the corridor that was just a little too-hard-for-horseplay. She never found herself concerned with his feelings or whereabouts or whathaveyou’s.

Until she did.

It was now nearing the end of the term and she was realizing that this was no longer a game and if it was, she’d be losing. Draco didn’t think to ask her to the Yule ball and this angered her more than she felt it should. Where did she go wrong? She still smelt of his cologne, had hickeys on her hips, his taste lingered on her tongue yet still, somehow, he wasn’t hers. Didn’t seekers like the chase?

The Winter holiday came quickly and he found himself hanging on her every word - though he’d never admit it, he’d never reply. Her letters arrived like clockwork, each one divulging intimate details of her innermost thoughts and feelings. Always signed with ‘love,’ but never saying ‘I miss you’. He still couldn’t wrap his head around it. How could a girl he’s seen naked on her knees so many times before just now seem vulnerable? He longed for her in ways he’d never wanted another and despite his better judgement, despite warnings from wary friends and the weight of his heart sinking into his stomach at the thought of her, he decided he was going to tell her after she wrote her next letter.

Until she didn’t.

He found her in the Common Room once school resumed and tugged on her robe for attention. ‘Can I talk to you?’ he asked, his voice smooth but stern. She nodded and followed him up to his room, her heart pounding and brain wracking and palms sweating and stomach turning and pulse increasing until-

the door slammed shut behind them. He feathered kisses down her neck and his nails traced her thighs as he held her up against the wall. Torsos pressed tightly and mouths matching rhythm, he needed her to be tangible, she needed him to be hers. Perhaps they liked the intensity, perhaps they didn’t mind the tension. Neither of them acknowledging the obvious.

Until they did.

Between breaths she would bite her lip, shaking the strands of loose hair from her face. These were the times when Draco found her most beautiful; when he had her at his mercy, when things were gentle and chaotic. She spun them around and pushed him down on to the duvet, straddling him with a smile and pinning his shoulders with both hands. It seems as though the doe-eyed deer was now the hunter and he smirked at the thought of how foolish he’d been to forget she was capable of such. She touched her nose to his, his heart pounding and brain wracking and palms sweating and stomach turning and pulse increasing until-

‘I love you.’

The words fell from her lips with grace, calculated and easy. No longer a challenge, she was just Y/N; an angel in combat boots and a tulle tutu. He admired her, he ached for her and even though he couldn’t wrap his head around it; he absolutely and irrevocably adored her.

‘I love you, too.’

What was supposed to be spiteful sex became unfurled intimacy. This time he marked her hips with intent, with ownership. The taste of his tongue brought her a familiar sense of comfort, of contentment. They spent the rest of the morning in bed beneath messy blankets, telling stories and sharing secrets. Secrets that led to confessions, confessions that led to discussions, discussions that lead to arguments,

Until they didn’t.

And that evening after hours of fighting and fucking, when Draco found himself naked and on his knees, begging her not to give up on him - he realized he had never seemed so vulnerable.

‘If you’re the seeker does that make me the snitch?’ she asked.

‘Yes, I suppose it does. And I’d be damned if I let you slip through my fingers now that I’ve finally caught you.’

‘Then don’t.’

She wasn’t his first love but she was the love that made all the others irrelevant. She was beautiful, and he’d be a fool to forget it.

Cabin || Jughead Jones

Prompt: Omg pls do 2,3,7 with jug oleasssse

Jughead and the reader decide to spend their anniversary in the reader’s aunt’s cabin but don’t realize she’s there as well. She’s keeping the two of you apart because she’s worried about what the two of you would do if you’re alone. The two of you get frustrated one cold night after no contact and Jughead sneaks into your room.

A/N: This is not smut! Just FYI. 

2.) “Please, put some pants on, you’re embarrassing me.”
3.) “Oh, love, I don’t think you understand the meaning of sarcasm.”
7.) “Honestly, if you wanted sex this bad you could’ve just told me!”

—————

Maybe spending time in your aunt’s cabin in Vermont right in the middle of winter wasn’t  a good idea after all. You were there with your boyfriend, Jughead Jones III, for your two year anniversary. Jughead didn’t like the cold, so you nearly had to beg him to go north with you. You thought you and Jughead would have the cabin to yourselves. At least that’s what your parents said. Oh, were you wrong. Unbeknownst to you, your aunt had also decided to spend that weekend up in the cabin as well. Why she wanted to get away from her comfy, cozy mansion in New York to go to a shabby cabin in December was beyond anyone’s understanding. Imagine your surprise, and Jughead’s deep displeasure, when you saw your aunt standing in the doorway of the cabin waving at the two of you. She had separated you and Jughead into bedrooms across the hall from each other and had situated herself smack in the middle of the two of you. Her message was clear. No hanky-panky.

The first morning and afternoon in the cabin was the worst. Your aunt had made poor Jughead chop firewood (despite having more than enough in the house to last for three days and nights) and had made you wander the woods around the cabin looking for sticks and branches. Worst of all, whenever you tried to approach Jughead or vice versa, your aunt would always tell you to get back to work. As if the two of you would bang right there and then in the snow (who did your aunt think she was? Seriously.)

It was now nighttime on the first day and it was even worse than that morning and afternoon. The heater had broke, leaving the cabin feeling like the North Pole and the four blankets on top of you weren’t helping you whatsoever. The electrician said he could come in first thing tomorrow so for tonight, everyone in the cabin had to try to fend off hypothermia. Your teeth chattered as you looked at the clock. 2:43. You groaned in frustration. This was ridiculous. You threw off the covers, ready to sneak into Jughead’s room and snuggle with him. You’d deal with your aunt later. Just as you reached your door, you heard a tentative knock on the door.

“Y/N? You awake?” Jughead asked from the other side.

You opened the door immediately and were greeted with the sight of Jughead with messy hair and a blanket around him. You snorted at what you saw and he glared at you.

“What? I’m cold.” he mumbled.

You rolled your eyes at him and let him into your room, closing the door behind you.

“Couldn’t sleep, huh?” you asked.

Jughead scoffed.

“Obviously. I’m freezing. Can we make a fire or something? In the living room?” he asked.

You shook your head.

“Not without my aunt knowing.” you said.

He growled.

“How do you suggest we get warm, huh? Take our clothes off and do that skin-to-skin contact?” Jughead asked, pulling his blanket closer.

Deciding to humor the whiny baby that is your boyfriend, you began to take your clothes off with a straight face. Jughead’s eyes widened as your quickly dropped your pants and took off your shirt, now only wearing your underpants. You crossed your arms and looked at him.

Honestly, if you wanted sex this bad you could’ve just told me!” you said.

Jughead swallowed at he took in your appearance and you could tell he was trying very hard not to get aroused. He dropped his blanket and cleared his throat.

“Is this supposed to make me feel something?” he dead-panned.

You rose your eyebrows at him before you began to put your shirt back on, knowing he would object.

Jughead quickly held his hand out, effectively stopping your actions.

Oh, love, I don’t think you understand the meaning of sarcasm.” he said, crossing the room.

You giggled as Jughead reached you and claimed your lips. The both of you were so involved in your making out that you didn’t notice the door opening.

“What’s going on in here?!” Your aunt nearly screamed.

You and Jughead sprung apart, cheeks bright red.

“Oh, my—“ Your aunt looked away and did the Holy Trinity sign. Jughead stifled a snicker and you bit your lip to stop from bursting out into laughter.

Y/N, put some pants on, you’re embarrassing me.” Your aunt said as she shook her head almost like she was trying to remove the image from her brain.

Jughead looked at you in disbelief. Seriously? he mouthed. You shrugged as you began to pull your pajama pants back on. At least the two of you weren’t cold anymore. You looked up at Jughead who was smirking at you and you couldn’t help but smile back. It was going to be a long weekend, but with Jughead by your side, maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t be as bad as you thought.

—————

A/N: Let me know what you thought!

sick days

pairing: polyhamilsquad x reader


You had just gotten out of your last class at Colombia. You couldn’t stop coughing and your head was spinning. Clumsily, you reached for your phone in your pocket. You tiredly scrolled through your contacts and finally landed on one.The only boy you knew that would be home would be Lafayette so you called his phone and headed out towards the front of the college.

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Nosey - Dylan O’Brien

Rating: MA (17+ for Explicit Content)

Pairing: Reader x Dylan O’Brien

Word Count: 3,236

Warning: Voyeurism(ish), Oral, NSFW

A/N: So, I’m back from my hiatus because today is my birthday. It’s currently 1:04AM and I decided to post this imagine now. It’s a little more simpler in terms of how it’s written compared to my more recent imagines because I started this one back in December of 2015. But, nevertheless, I liked it enough to not just delete it. So, enjoy.

P.S. The gif doesn’t have anything to do with the imagine but I just love Stalia and loOK A DYLAN’S JAWLINE.

NO LONGER TAKING REQUESTS!

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Since I’ve Been Loving You (Part 1)

Originally posted by bringmesomepie56

Summary: After Dean helps the reader out of a bad situation, they embark on a new part of their relationship. The only problem is Dean is nowhere to be found…

Since I’ve Been Loving You Masterlist

Pairing: cop!Dean x cop!reader

Word Count: 1,500ish

Warnings: language, implied past abusive relationship

A/N: Very special thank you to @emilywritesaboutdean for beta’ing and helping me think of doing a collab on this one…

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Dreams

November 2005

He woke to Sam’s startled, strangled cry, and he was on his feet with his Colt cool in his hand before he realized that his brother had been dreaming.

‘Sammy, Jesus Christ,’ he muttered, thumbing the safety back on before he put a bullet through the goddamned lampshade. Sam looked up at him from the other bed, sweaty-faced, wet-eyed, and then kicked free from the tangle he’d made of his sheets and ran for the bathroom; the light went on and the door slammed shut and a heartbeat later Dean heard him throwing up the little he’d eaten at supper—a shitty apple and half an egg-salad sandwich from the Kwik Stop on the highway, and a candy bar Dean had practically forced down his gullet, ‘cause his kid clearly needed protein, and Snickers had, y’know, peanuts. 

Damn it.

He tucked the gun back beneath his pillow, scrubbed a hand across his hair and stood irresolute for a moment in the center of their room, then padded quietly over to the bathroom door.  Rested his forehead and one hand against the thin cheap wood, didn’t open it. ‘Sam,’ he said. ‘You all right, man?’

One breath, two. ‘M fine,’ his brother managed, which Dean would have believed, sure, no problem, if only the kid hadn’t sounded like he’d been flayed open and left for dead on the side of the fucking road. 

***

They worked a few cases, saved a few people, hunted a few things. Sam lost ten pounds and stopped sleeping anywhere save for the cradle of the front seat, with the road humming beneath Baby’s tires and his head tipped against the window, a pained furrow between his brows. 

He still woke, always, from a nightmare.

He was, always, fine.

***

They were in western Indiana, one state line and 250 miles from a room full of shattered mirrors, when Dean opened his eyes, a little after midnight, to find Sam sitting on the edge of the other bed, head in his hands, sheets and blankets a messy tumble at his back. 

‘Hey,’ he said, rubbing sleep from his eyes. ‘You all right?’

I’m fine, he expected, but Sam said nothing, and he came all the way awake.

‘Sammy?’

In nothing but his boxers, shoulders hunched, feet bare, his little brother looked small, somehow, and painfully vulnerable. ‘ … I can’t sleep,’ he admitted, soft and young and lost. ‘I just … ‘ His fingers tightened in his hair. ‘Dean, I’m so tired, and I can’t—I can’t sleep.’

Dean’s heart clenched up, hard, behind his ribs, because he knew that voice, even though he hadn’t heard it in a dozen years: Dean, help, his baby brother had said, at seven, bringing him a dying bird with a broken wing; and But Dean I want to stay, he’d cried, at ten in West Virginia; and Dean and Dean and Dean, Sammy always so certain that he could fix it, that he could help, no matter how many times he failed him.

‘… I know,’ he said, quietly, because there wasn’t anything the fuck else to say, no matter how much he wished otherwise. ‘Sammy, man, the nightmares about Jess, they’re—they’re gonna get better, okay?’ he said. ‘They always do; it’s—’

Sam was shaking his head, slow and weary. ‘I’m not dreaming about Jess,’ he said, and Dean blinked at him, because what the hell? ‘I mean, I am, but not … not all the time.’ He pushed a hand back through his hair. ‘It’s always the fire,’ he said, softly. ‘But sometimes it’s … it’s Dad, on the ceiling, dying.’ A shuddery breath. ‘Most of the time it’s you.’

Dean’s throat closed up, hard. ‘Sammy,’ he managed, but the kid just shook his head again, looked up at him with desperate, pleading eyes. 

‘I can’t—I can’t keep watching you die, man; not after … you’re all I got, and I can’t …’ His voice cracked, took something in Dean’s chest with it. They were quiet for a moment, the only sound the rumble of a semi passing by outside on the highway, and the low murmur of the TV from the manager’s office on the other side of the wall.

‘C’mere,’ Dean finally said. He scooted over in the narrow double bed. ‘Just … grab your pillow, all right? You ain’t gonna get any sleep over there.’

He could have sworn he saw his little brother flushing in the dark. ‘D-Dean, I … I don’t–’

He smacked the mattress, once. ‘Shut up and lie your bony ass down, Sasquatch. I ain’t gonna tell you again.’

It took a minute, but four years’ distance apparently hadn’t sapped all of his Big Brother mojo, because Sam finally crawled in beside him, hesitantly, mattress lurching briefly beneath his weight.

They lay quietly for awhile, both of them on their backs, shoulders close but not touching in the dark.

‘Hey, you remember that awesome diner in Georgia from when you were a kid?’ Dean asked. ‘With the waffles and the peanut butter pie?’

He didn’t think it was going to work for a moment, but then, softly: ‘The one with the big peach on the sign? Outside Savannah?’

‘Yeah. Dad and I ended up back there about four months ago, after we cleaned up a haunting in the city. They still got the pie. I was worried, you know? That they’d be sellin’, like, tofu cheesecake or somethin’ by now, but they still got it. Same dumb curtains, same dumb tablecloths, same awesome pie. Sweet potato fries are still good, too.’ He shifted a little, settling himself more comfortably. ‘What were you, twelve, when you polished off that basket of ‘em? The owner came out to take a picture.’ He didn’t mention that he’d found it in August, a Polaroid tacked up on the wall with three hundred others, Sammy sweet-faced and floppy-haired and shyly smiling, or that it was tucked safely now in the glove box, with the few other precious things Dean owned.

He could hear Sam’s smile, even if he couldn’t see it; could feel the tension starting to drain a little from his brother’s long body. ‘Yeah,’ he said. And then: ‘You got the recipe from the cook, remember? Tried to make them for me the next time we were at Bobby’s.’

‘Yeah, well. Not all of my plans are genius, Sammy,’ he said, and his brother snorted out a soft little laugh in the dark. 

Dean talked on, softly, about nothing important: a diner he and Dad had found in Nebraska one Christmas Eve; a ski cabin in Maine they’d slept warm and safe in for a week; the massive, moss-covered oak he’d spend a night under on Jekyll Island, waiting for the ghosts of a slaver and his son. After awhile Sam rolled onto his side, curling up bit by bit in the space between them until his forehead was touching Dean’s arm and one bony knee bumping against Dean’s leg; a little while longer and there were long, hesitant fingertips settling soft against his ribs, like his little brother just wanted to make sure he was real, that he was there. Dean was reminiscing fondly about a burger called the Mac Attack he’d found in Boston when he heard the kid’s breath finally settle into the slow, easy rhythm of sleep.

He lay quietly for a long while beside his brother in the dark, and never knew when he tumbled headlong into dreaming.

***

He woke a little after 7:00, their room still dark, December rain coming down steady and cold outside. Sam was still sound asleep, sprawled across Dean’s chest the same way he’d slept as a kid, tucked in under Dean’s arm with his face hidden in the crook of Dean’s neck and one arm and leg thrown over him in a haphazard tangle of limbs. Warm to his bones, Dean shifted just a little to ease the cramping in his lower back; Sam snuffled and kicked and wound himself more tightly around him in reply. ‘D’n,’ he mumbled.

Dean settled a hand in his brother’s hair, and closed his eyes against the coming day.