You should be here

A/N: Inspired by the song “You Should be Here” by Cole Swindell. This is a feels smack. In this story Dean took Amara down with the spirit bomb they made, leaving Sam to raise Dean’s young daughter.

Listen to it here (play the song if you really wanna bawl while reading this)

Sam x Niece!Reader   Dean x Daughter!Reader

Sam felt his strong facade begin to crumble as he watched Dean say his goodbyes to you. At only four years old you didn’t fully understand what was going on but you got the jist of it, your dad was going away and wouldn’t be coming back.

Which was breaking your heart.

Tears were pouring down your face as you clung to Dean begging him not to leave you. Sam looked at Dean and could tell Dean was about to lose it as he held onto you tighter. His face was buried in your hair, breathing in your scent, memorizing you because who knew where his soul would go after he destroyed Amara.

Glancing up at his brother, Dean realized it was time for him to leave. “Go with your uncle Y/N. Sammy’s gonna take care of you.” Dean said while trying to get free of your grip.

“No Daddy.” You cried, digging your hands into his shirt, “Please don’t leave me.”

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Pink Bug Drug

“Hey, Lance, you have a visual on Keith?” Pidge asked.

Lance peered through the scope on his sniper rifle, the technology zeroing in on Keith despite being forty feet up an alien tree. Through the dense canopy, he could see the red armor dart in between the sentries posted, dispatching them quickly with little to-do.

He tore off his helmet; sweat matting his black hair to his forehead and neck. Shaking his head, with the help of the scope, he could see every drop of sweat that was flung off of him. Setting his helmet down he took a leather-like strip he got from a planet from a hidden compartment in his armor to tie his hair up, a stumpy little ponytail in the back of his head.

He cleared his throat. “Uh, ye-yeah, I got a visual.”

“You okay there, buddy?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, Hunk. Just need some water. This is a very humid planet. Just stay on standby until we need ya.”

“Well, it should be relatively low populated. Whoever was here before must have either gone underground or escaped when the Galra arrived.” Pidge intoned, sounding just like a nature documentary voice over. When he said so he could hear her eye roll over the comms. “Really?”

“Well, I’m not calling it your hacker voice.”

“Uuuggghhhhhh. Shut uuuppp!”

“Guys,” the voice of reason sighed.

“Sorry, Shiro,” they chorused.

Lance cleared his throat again. “Well, it doesn’t seem like there’s anyone here but me and Keith. And a few sentries but they’re dead now.”

“Hmm, okay, just be careful, you too Keith, okay? The scans said the place was abandoned but you can’t be too sure.”

“Uh, yeah, he can’t hear you, he took his helmet off.”

”Goddamnit Keith.”

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“Ted... I’ve got a serious question.”

Ted the Animator: “Huh? Wait, what’s wrong?”

Carl the Animator: “Nothing huge, just… do you have a second?”

Ted the Animator: “…I’ve never seen you like this before. Did someone die?!”

Carl the Animator: “No, no, chill, I’ve just got something bugging me right now. Can we talk?”

Ted the Animator: “Yes! Yes. The pen’s down, just say it… goodness, you’re freaking me out, here.”

Carl the Animator: “Ok, well, here goes…. I think I can do it. Deep breaths, staying calm… just need to–”

Ted the Animator: “JUST *SAY* IT!”

Carl the Animator: “…speaking of staying calm.”

Ted the Animator: “Sorry, sorry… suspense about seemingly-bad things always freaks me out.”

Carl the Animator: “Well, uh… to put it simply… when I was a kid, I’d watch Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer, and–”

Ted the Animator: “…wait, what?

Carl the Animator: “In Rudolph, they have this song, and–”

Ted the Animator: “What on earth does this have to do with anything?”

Carl the Animator: “The song the elves sing… why do they sing abou–”

Ted the Animator: …wait, all that wind-up was for a question about freakin’ Rudolph? I thought you were seriously traumatized over something!”

Carl the Animator: "This is a very serious and traumatizing matter.”

Ted the Animator: ”…huh?”

Carl the Animator: “Have you seen Rudolph before, Ted?“

Ted the Animator: "Like, meaning the ‘60s Christmas special? Uh… yes?”

Carl the Animator: “Do you remember the elves’ song?”

Ted the Animator: “l think? Sorta?”

Carl the Animator: “Have you ever really thought about it?”

Ted the Animator: “…no. No, Carl, I haven’t.”

Carl the Animator: "I envy you. There are darker implications hiding just under the surface.”

Ted the Animator: ”…”

Carl the Animator: “Part-way in, the elves perform their big song for Santa. Not just any song, mind you – one praising and extolling the virtues of Santa, and how their lives revolve around him.”

Ted the Animator: “…uh-huh?”

Carl the Animator: "Doesn’t it seem just a little weird to sing a song like that directly to the subject? Either they have an unhealthy adoration of their employer, which is creepy, or Santa requires them to sing it, which is even creepier.”

Ted the Animator: ”…hm.”

Carl the Animator: “And it doesn’t end there. Oh no, that’s just the beginning.”

Ted the Animator: “Uh-oh.”

Carl the Animator: "During their song, we see all these reactions where Santa’s irritated…” 

Carl the Animator: ”…even unwilling to mask his disappointment and boredom.”

Ted the Animator: “Not exactly his jolly old self, huh?”

Carl the Animator: "Not at all, Ted… not at all.”

Carl the Animator: "And to top it all off, at the end, he just says ‘Well, it needs work. I have to go’…”

Carl the Animator: "And just leaves, slamming the door on his way out.

Ted the Animator: ”…oh.”

Carl the Animator: “No thank-you given. No ‘Gee, elves, I really appreciate this tribute you’ve practiced all year for me.’ Santa gives them nothing but a reminder that they don’t hold up to his standards, and further neglection.”

Ted the Animator: "That… wow.”

Carl the Animator: "In that moment, as a kid, I realized the true villain of the story wasn’t the Bumble… it was Santa all along.

Ted the Animator: ”…I had no idea Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer was an allegory for emotionally-abusive relationships.”

Carl the Animator: “We can only guess as to what Yukon Cornelius and his sled dogs might represent.”

You’re Okay, I Guess

Pairing: (platonic) Jughead Jones x Reader

Summary: Jughead helps the Reader out in a run-in with her ex by the most unexpected methods

Warnings: nah, not much to say

Originally posted by loislanes94

You swirled the thick straw in between your thumb and index finger, staring gloomily at your half-drunken cookies and cream milkshake, not really having the appetite to down the milkshake, despite it being one of Pop’s more popular specialties. Honestly, it would be a miracle if you ended up feeling better by the end of the day, seeing as today was as shitty as days get.

First off, your mother had, earlier today, told you that if you wanted to continue living under her roof, you were to find a part-time job and try to ‘support the family’; and by 'family’, she meant her debilitating alcoholism. What with you being in the editorial board, plus running for track and being in a band, there was absolutely no way you could even indulge in the idea of working part-time seeing as your social life was non-existent and your actual life was hanging on by a fraying thread. Then of course, today marks a week since the Break Up with your ex Reggie, whom you recently found out through Kevin Keller that he had been sleeping around with other girls even when you were still together, which added more salt to the wound, as if more salt could ever be rubbed in that particular, still-healing injury.

So there you were, taking up an entire booth at Pop’s, wallowing in self-pity as you picked aimlessly at the crumpled tissue where you had wiped your mouth earlier, thinking of the tissue as a metaphor for your life, when the door to the burger-and-milkshake-serving diner opened, and in came a rowdy groups of guys you knew went to Riverdale High with you. How could you tell? It was probably because Reggie was smack-dab in the middle of the group, laughing and fooling around with his equally nauseating friends, shoving at each other as they made their (unwanted) presence in the otherwise peaceful shop known.

Of course, you had immediately ducked your head and pretended to fiddle with your phone to try to hide from Reggie and his puke-inducing gang of friends, in case they decided to make your day a living hell more than ever, practically having bile rising up your throat, trying to calm yourself down by sipping lightly at your milkshake. Through your eyelashes, you saw that some of the guys had crammed inside a booth, but to your horror, Reggie and one of his cronies had sidled up to the counter less than 7 feet away from you to pick up their order like they usually did after school when you tagged along, talking rather loudly about something you didn’t care to listen in on. Thankfully, they didn’t seem to have noticed you, and you were intent on things staying that way for as long as they were here, but of course, luck seemed to have abandoned your side completely as Reggie’s friend had scanned the diner and his gaze landed on you, where you tried to pretend you were typing away into your phone. Out the corner of your eye, you saw the friend nudge your ex with his elbow and not-so-discreetly whispered, “Well, look who it is, Reggie.” to him, making your ex turn and glance at you.

Of course, he didn’t say anything, just gave you that judgemental, 'you-are-all-beneath-me’ look and rolled his eyes at you. “I can’t believe you tapped that, I mean what was she like? Isn’t she like, a neurotic loner or something?” His friend pressed on.

“Trust me, biggest mistake of my life.” Reggie played along, knowing full well that you heard every word, trying not to break down and yell at that smug bastard for being a petty dipshit. “I mean, look at her, she’s hoarding an entire booth for her fat self and she’s so pathetic, she doesn’t even have friends to share-”

“Hey, sorry I’m late.” A vaguely familiar voice cut through the dissing Reggie and his friend were doing at your expense, and to your surprise, a raven-haired guy in a grey beanie sat down next to you in the booth, forcing you to scoot over reluctantly, despite not being aware you had agreed to meet anyone up at Pop’s today. Not that you had that many friends to hang out with in the first place…

Before you could ask the guy on why he was sitting there with you, he said, “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting long.”, glancing pointedly at you with his back towards Reggie and his friend, dark eyes instructing you to play along when you realized who he was; Riverdale High’s resident Emo McEmo, Jughead Jones.

You recalled seeing him a few times at school, him mostly keeping to himself with headphones practically surgically attached to his head, the quiet, mysterious type of guy that probably knew everyone’s deepest, darkest secrets just by silently observing his surroundings and gathering information unnoticed. He was an intriguing guy who seemed to have way more going on in his mind than most kids in Riverdale High combined, a person who has a deeper understanding on the human emotion and yet rarely shows any emotion other than boredom most times. But still, it didn’t answer your earlier inquiries on why the hell did he think you both were friendly enough that he could just barge into your booth and make himself at home when your bully of an ex and his similarly brute douchey friend were less than 7 feet away from you both.

“The freak and the slut, a perfect pair, yes?” Reggie’s friend nudged at the former, him looking a little put off by Jughead’s arrival. Everyone with a brain knew of the beef Reggie had with Jughead, so it was understandable why Reggie tensed up a little when Jughead appeared, under the pretence that you and him were somewhat friendly with each other. Whatever, it’s not like he has a hold over me, you thought, sending a steely glare at the two.

“Leave her alone.” Jughead spoke, a low but dangerous tone, one that surprised you. Surely he wasn’t actually…sticking up for you, was he? Jughead Jones, Defender of the Bullied? As far as you knew about him (and it wasn’t much), he was more of a sidelines guy, keeping out of trouble by staying under the radar. This, however, was totally out of character. “Don’t you asshats have something better to do than pick on people who did nothing wrong against you?”

“Oh-ho, look, the freak speaks! Defending his lady now, is he?” Reggie’s friend sneered.

“I did (Y/N) a favour by hooking up with her sorry ass.” Reggie spat spitefully, upturning his nose at you as if you were dirt under his shoes. “But in the end, she wasn’t even worth it.” He smirked when he saw both you and Jughead shift in your seats at an almost identical position, clearly ruffled by his words.

Before you could tell him to go shove a cactus up his ass, Jughead once again stepped in and told him, “No, it was (Y/N) who did you a favour by going out with you; I mean, who would even want to hook up with a guy like you?” This comment caused Reggie’s friend to turn pale, a bad sign, seeing as not many dared to talk shit about Reggie…to his face.

“You’re one to talk, Hannibal Lecter, when you’ve never even gotten past first base with a girl!” Reggie said angrily, just as their order arrived, his friend momentarily diverting his attention to the food.

“At least I’m getting laid.” Jughead replied calmly, and then, as if it was no big deal, turned towards you and pulled you into a kiss, one hand cupping your cheek as his mouth moved slowly against yours, a clear sign that he wasn’t used to kissing. Too surprised to even function, you noticed the disgruntled sounds of disgust coming from the two, and when you finally let Jughead take control, you heard them moving away from near your booth, defeated.

“Um…” You pulled away from the dark-haired boy once they were out of earshot, eyes wide at the realization that a guy, whom you barely spoke to in the past years you’ve been in the same school as him, had just defended you and kissed you despite not even owing you anything. “Wha…What was that for?” You asked him nervously, eyes darting to where the group of guys were, all of them already halfway out the door, not noticing the two of you.

“You wanted them to stop bugging you, right?” He asked you, following your gaze to the door that shut behind the group, you nodding slowly. “That should do the trick.” He added, referring to the kiss.

“But…why would you…why would you kiss me?” You asked him, confused.

“I, uh…” For once, Jughead didn’t seem to have a proper answer.

“Are you…are you gay or something?” You squinted at him, trying to squeeze out the truth from him. “I won’t judge you or anything-”

“No, no, it’s quite complicated, really…” He readjusted his grey beanie before continuing to speak. “I’m not attracted to girls. And guys. I’m not attracted to anyone, really.” Oh.

“And they’ve been harassing you about that?” You caught on quickly enough, recalling how hurt Reggie looked when Jughead told him he was getting laid. I will never understand boys and their over-inflated egos, you sighed inwardly.

He nodded, looking, for a split second, as if he was going to say something, but he didn’t. “Well hey, at least your plan worked!” You nudged him optimistically, coaxing a small smile from him, just the faintest twitch of the corner of his lips you were kissing a few minutes ago. “I’m cool with platonic kissing.”

He quirked an eyebrow at you. “This doesn’t mean I’m attracted to you or anything, I just…” You gave up trying to justify your words. “You’re not…you’re okay, I guess.” You mumbled feebly.

“Well, the feeling is mutual, (Y/N).” Jughead smiled, a proper smile, one you’ve never ever seen before. “If I had to choose a girl to willingly kiss for the rest of my school year, it would be you.”

“That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.” You grinned, before both of you burst into laughter.

@bananakid42 @multifandomlove2002 @negansgrimes 

Yeah, I know I’m a Supernatural fanfiction account but like a lot of people on Tumblr, we were thrust into the world of Riverdale when we watched it, so it’s understandable. 


If you like Supernatural (especially Rob Benedict/Chuck Shurley/Gabriel/Richard Speight Jr) then you can go check out my masterlist. If you want more of Jughead one-shots like this, feel free to request me anything that isn’t smut because I respect ace (aroace?) Jughead (c’mon guys, it’s canon). All you gotta do is send me an ask! 

Handyman: Part 4

Handyman: Part 4 (m)

Word count: 5.1k

Genre/Warnings: smut, angst, language, cum play, role play and pegging

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Summary: You’re trying to figure out what you want but you’re more interested in what Jimin wants and you’ve never felt that way before.

Sadly, I think there will be only one more chapter of this. I have a lot of new things I want to work on and this one just seems like a good one to come to an end to.

Parts:  one | two | three 

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Pictures of Love (Peter Parker)

Originally posted by tomhollandhollaatme

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Warning: None

Summary: Peter and Y/N have been friends since they were children and as kids, used to childishly flirt with one another all the time until one day, Peter stopped and so did Y/n. Y/N doesn’t realize it until one day looking through old home movies with Aunt May.

Author: Dizzy

A/N: This is just a fluffy little fic I thought up. I hope you like it!

Masterlist Request Any Of These

“Aw, May! I can’t believe you found these!” You cried as you held the old VHS tapes in your hands, each one labeled with a different point in Peter’s life, some titles including your own name. “We have to watch some of these.”

“I was thinking since you’re staying over, you, Peter and I could watch the ones you’re in. You know, reminisce​ in the old days.”

“May, I would love that." You replied, running your finger along the edge on the tapes, bringing back memories of Peter’s aunt and uncle running around with the camera following you two. "Peter! Hurry up, you slow poke!”

“Okay, okay! I’m coming! Jeez, Y/n, you can’t rush perfection.” Peter stated, waltzing into the room with a bowl of popcorn in hand.

He set the bowl down in front of you and May, who quickly took pieces of the snack as if they’d waited an eternity to eat.

“So much for perfection,” You said. “it’s a little too salty.”

May laughed. “Agreed. Now, Y/n, would you like to do the honors and pick out a video?”

“Gladly!” You chirped, leaning forward and finding a tape that caught your eye when you looked through them earlier.

You picked out the tape marked “Peter and Y/n at the park, age 4” and rose from your seat to put the tape into the player before sitting back down, leaning into Peter, who wrapped an arm around your shoulder and pulled you close.

“Mr. Ben!” Your little voice rang from the tv speakers as your childish grin appeared on the screen. “Watch me do a sumsault!”

Ben’s laughter erupted from the speaker as he focused the camera to show your whole body. “It’s called a somersault, honey. But, I’m watching you, okay?”

“Okay!” You cried before you got down in the grass and did a somersault. “Mr. Ben, where’s Peter?”

The camera changed focus from you to the surrounding areas, in search of little Peter. It finally found him sitting in a patch of grass surrounded by flowers as he picked a bright purple one.

Peter rose from his spot on the ground, the flower in his little grip as he carefully walked around the other flowers and towards you.

The camera then followed Peter on his walk from the patch he sat in to you while you sat in the grass, watching him approach you.

Peter threw his arm before him, pushing the flower into your face.

“Pretty!” you said cheerfully as Peter waddled uncomfortably.

“It’s for you!” Little Peter cried, pushing the flower into your face further.

You plucked the flower from his hand and gave him a confused look as he giggled.

“I’ll get you more!” He shouted before running off as you looked into the camera before the picture cut out.

“Aw!” May squealed. “You two were so cute!”

“I’m pretty sure Y/n was cuter.” Peter stated, smiling over at you.

You rolled your eyes playfully as you released yourself from his hold and changed the tape. Your heart swelled as your mind replayed Peter’s compliment and his gift giving in the video.

You had always has a crush on Peter, even back then when you didn’t really know what a crush was, or how one would show that they had one.

And Peter, well, Peter had a crush on you too. He always had. Even when you hesitated to accept his flowers or the compliments he’d throw your way. Even as children, he was head over heels for his best friend.

“I was such a dork. I know I was literally four, but man, I was a little weirdo.”

You had to admit, Peter with his little flowers was the cutest thing you’d seen in a long time. You thought it was sweet that he had tried to impress your little self with plants.

It was undeniable, from the very start, it seemed as though you and Peter were made for one another.

But, it seemed like all a cruel joke to you since Peter always seemed to be thinking about your friend, Liz. Always a boy with his head in the clouds as he talked to Ned about the girl he thought was beautiful.

“Peter!” You little voice called out for your best friend.

“What, bug?! I’m standing right next to you!”

You and Peter were about six years old, in costumes of your favorite super heroes. You, being Captain America and Peter being Iron Man.

You laughed as you watched the two of you on the tv screen before you glanced over at Peter, who’s arm was up around your shoulders again as he chuckled at the sight of you two.

“Peter, why do you call Y/n bug?” May’ s voice came through the speakers, dripping of kindness as sweet as honey while Ben focused the camera on Peter.

“Be-because Y/n l-likes lady bugs and she likes pretty flowers and s-she is my best friend! A-and she’s pretty like lady bugs and you, Aunt May!” Peter stammered as he spit out the thought out explanation, like it was a secret he didn’t want to tell.

It was then that you made a small squeaking sound and threw your arm’s around Peter’s neck, catching the little boy off guard.

“Thank you, Peter!” You cried out shaking the boy as you hugged him and placed a kiss on his cheek with a quiet smack.

Peter let out an audible gasp before pushing you away from him.

“Bug! That’s gross! You have cooties!” Peter cried out, wiping off the wet spot on his face as May scolded him for being rude.

That’s when the screen went out before it showed you and Peter tucked in Peter’s bed, holding one another as you slept soundly with light snores echoing the room. The screen went black once again.

You looked over at Aunt May, who had fallen asleep on the edge of the couch as you gazed up at Peter, your arm draped over his waist and his arm around yours. You didn’t hesitate as you pressed a kiss to his cheek.

Peter tensed as he froze for a moment. His cheeks heated up as he bit back a smile before looking at you.

“I would yell that you have cooties, but I’ll refrain from doing so.” He whispered into your ear.

The close proximity of Peter’s warm breath on your cold neck and his words set your skin on fire as you playfully pushed him in an attempt to ease the tension you felt.

“Just go put another tape in.” You muttered.

“As you wish.” Peter replied before he pressed a quick kiss to your cheek and got up from next to you.

Peter, in all the time you’d been friends, had never kissed you on the cheek. Nor, had he ever crossed the line between platonic action and romantic difference.

It was an odd and new sensation you felt giddy about.

Yes, you had been kissed on the cheek by other boys, but it hadn’t felt the same as Peter’s kiss had. It was different, new and it made you feel as though you were on cloud nine.

Peter plopped down on the seat next to you as you changed position and laid your legs on him as you leaned back on the arm of the chair. Peter ran his fingers along the lining of your pajama pants as the screen came to life.

“Here, bug!” Little Peter cried, holding a ring pop out to your six year old self.

“A ring pop?! Thank you, Peter!”

You took the ring pop from him and placed it on your ring finger, admiring the blue candy jewel that sat on yellow plastic.

“We’re married now!” Peter hollered before looking at the camera. “That was an epic wedding, right, Uncle Ben?”

“The most epic, Peter.” Ben chuckled. “But Y/n is supposed to know when you’re going to be married. You have to ask if she wants to be.”

Peter then turned to you and smiled before speaking up. “Bug, do you wanna be married to me?”

You titled your head in confusion as you tugged at your “Save Ferris” t shirt.

“What does that mean, Peter?”

“What does what mean? Married?”


Peter looked at the camera, or the man behind the camera in an unsure manner before he let his eyes gaze back at you.

“Well, i-it it means th-that we share out candy and then w-we hold hands when it’s c-cold!”

“Then, I wanna be married!” You announced before you threw your arms around him and hugged him tight.

The camera went out before it unleashed a picture of you and Peter in your playhouse.

“What are you guys doing?” It was May behind the camera now as she bent down and watched you two play.

“We’re playing house!” You announced, your ring pop no longer had a jewel on it, but a bit of a slobbering mess.

“Uh huh!” Peter agreed. “Bug is the mommy and I’m the daddy.”

“And these are our babies.” You held up two of your dolls. “Nikin and Luke!”

“It’s Anakin, bug.” Peter corrected. “I named them, Aunt May.”

“Yeah, Ms. May, Peter named them after the guys in Star Wars.”

“It was better than the names bug wanted.” Peter added.

“What did you want to name them, sweetie?” May asked you.

“Ferris and Ducky! Like those people in the movies my mom and I watch.” You explained. “But, I let Peter name the babies cause I like him. But it’s a secret Ms. May, so shh.”

You pressed a finger to your lips as you shushed May.

“I can hear you, bug.” Peter said, not looking up from the play kitchen.

“No you can’t!” You snapped. “Cause I didn’t say anything!”

Then the screen went out and the tape was over.

You took a glance at the clock and then at Peter before you rose from your seat.

“We should probably go to bed. It’s late.” You stated as you turned on your heel and started to walk to Peter’s room.

“I’ll meet you in the room. I’ve got to get Aunt May to bed.”

You signed as you closed the door behind you and leaned up against it. Your mind was going crazy with all the memories of you and Peter and all the feelings you’ve felt for him being recorded in home videos.

It wasn’t until now that you realized Peter has feelings for you when you were kids, but there was no way he liked you now. Every time Peter’s eyes started to wander the lunch room, they weren’t looking for you, they were looking at your friend, Liz.

You took a seat on the bed as Peter walked in, his camera in hand.

“What’s with the camera?” You asked.

“I thought we could add some new memories to the home movies.”

“So you want to video tape me going to bed?” You asked, the camera capturing the confused look on your face.

“No, there was something else I wanted to tape.” Peter said. “Do you want to go out with me?”

“What? Are you messing with me?”

“Um, no? Bug, I love you. I always have. I just want you to know that and I want you to be my girlfriend because you’ve always been there for me from the start.”

“Oh, Peter. Of course I’ll go out with you.” You stated as Peter turned the camera tho face him.

You got up and stood before him as he positioned the camera to face the two of you. You looked into the lens. “You probably don’t want to see this.” You said before covering the lens with your hand and kissing Peter with as much passion as he had when he picked that people flower so long ago.

The Encyclopedia (Destiel)

A little one shot I wrote… I hope you like it! Let me know if you do, and send me a prompt if you feel so inclined!

“This is a terrible idea, Sam,” Dean said, voice hushed and hurried so no one in the library would hear him. “I really can’t do this.”

“Dean, you’ve been staring at him for the past hour. Go talk to him!” Sam hissed, poking his brother with the spine of one of his books.

They were at the library, picking up books for one of Sam’s middle school classes. Dean had had to drive him to the library right after his football practice, so Dean was still in his letterman jacket, hair damp and eyes bright when he saw him. A boy, the boy, of Dean’s dreams, fantasies, and desires. He was a little smaller than Dean, with ruffled dark hair and those eyes, like every tear Dean had ever shed was crystallized in that hypnotizing blue. He was a fucking masterpiece, and while Dean was well versed in flirtation, he had no idea how to approach this stunning and slightly nerdy boy. He could flirt, yes, but he didn’t know how to flirt with someone in a sweater vest.

“How am I supposed to talk to him?” Dean peeked around the edge of the bookshelf to glance at the boy, who was carefully running a slim finger across the spines of the books on the shelf. Dean turned back to his brother, a look of unadulterated panic on his face. “He reads.

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Bed Bugs

(I should be finishing my work but with all this talk about the Googles and Anti I just had to write something about it all)

It was another restless night of nightmares, Anti found himself fixing the wing of his metal dragon in his drowsy state. He should’ve woken up Oliver to talk to him, but he didn’t want to be a burden. He’d caused enough trouble when he was awake, and beside Ollie needed his sleep.

He paused what he was welding to look over his work, when he began to hear a strange noise. As his ears perked up more, it became clearer. Someone was… crying? More like muffled sobs, and it was coming from the google’s room.

Anti glitched in and saw them all charging soundly. Except for Green. His body was shaking and oil was starting to drip from his eye. His teeth were gritted so tightly, it almost looked painful. He felt daggers in his heart, seeing his brother so broken. It took a second, but Anti soon realized just what was happening; he was having a nightmare. He hoovered his hands around the bot, but didn’t really know what to do. He wasn’t as human as Ollie, he wasn’t sure if his programming would just wake him up.

Anti didn’t know what to do, but he wondered. What is a nightmare to a robot? Just a bug in the system right? That’s all it could be. Debating his options, Anti made up his mind when he heard Green quietly calling for his brothers.

“Please don’t hate me for this green bean,” Anti muttered, as he glitched into Green’s systems. He was surprised at how easy it was, but he wondered if their defenses had weakened to him since he was no longer a threat.

Soon, Anti found his core and glitch in, and sure enough, there was nightmare, playing like a scene in a movie. Anti stood to the side, watching. He saw Green kneeling in front of the bodies of his dead brothers, sobbing his eyes out. The sight made Anti was to cry himself, he had no idea how it must feel for Green. The worst part however, was they all had a knife shoved deep into their cores.

Suddenly a mechanical voice came from the darkness. “You must be prepared to protect. Again. Learn,” the voice cut off and in a flash, everything was reset. They were all standing, in sleep mode, except for Green. He stepped in front of them, ready to protect, but it was obvious from his expression just how afraid he really was. Anti could tell that Green was tired and didn’t want to fight, but his systems forced him to.

The glitched looked, wondering what he was defending them from, when he saw an image of himself, a nightmarish version, stood before him with four knives between his fingers, ready to attack. Anti understood now. His systems were training him in the case that Anti ever went rogue again. Well that’s enough of that. Anti thought as he glitched behind the other version of himself and slashed a knife right through his chest. The copy fell to his knees and disappeared, along with the fake versions of his brothers.

Green and Anti made eye contact for a second before Anti quickly glitched out of his systems and ran back to his pillow fort before Green woke up.

The next morning, Green didn’t say anything about what happened. Anti thought maybe he made it out of the clear, maybe Green didn’t remember anything from last night. He was doing a test flight of his dragon, making sure that the wing was fixed so it didn’t crash with him inside it, when Green walked up behind him, wrapping his arms around Anti’s waist and burying his face in the back of his shoulder. Before Anti could say anything, Green let go and walked away like nothing happened. Anti grinned to himself. He didn’t have to glitch inside to see what that’d meant.

-Head canon that Anti is the best antivirus against bad dreams-

Submitted by: @pixelpolaroid

Nope, not crying. Not crying at all. I’m fine *hides under pile of pillows* totally fine…

Devil Side-Chapter 18

Summary: A day at the park with Reyna and Bucky brings revelations and apologies. 

Pairings: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Uhm. so this is fluff. but there are some mentions of emotional affairs and other sensitive themes. there’s not much angst. Dad!Bucky

Word Count: 1151

You decided to take Reyna to the park early. The walls of the tower were closing in you, suffocating you under its weight.

Reyna was edgy as it was. The departure of her father had resulted in tears and you’d spent a good twenty minutes calming her down. After a quick diaper change, which was a harrowing experience, and an outfit change you trudged toward the kitchen, her diaper bag slung over your shoulder, pushing her pram ahead of you.

You plop Reyna on the kitchen floor, handing her, her favorite unicorn toy. You rummaged through the kitchen cabinets a frenzied attempt to locate child-friendly snacks. You assumed she needed to eat more than three times a day. She was the daughter of a super soldier after all. Who knew what the effects the serum had on her body. She didn’t look any different from other children you had met, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything.

An intense few seconds followed. The animal crackers were inexplicably missing.

You finally found them stuffed in the back of the cupboard, and sighed in relief. Returning to Reyna, you head down to the park, ignoring the prickle at the back of your neck.

You couldn’t shake the feeling someone was watching you. It was unnerving, to say the least, causing you to fight the urge to keep checking behind you, relying instead on your other senses. Your eyes stayed focused on the road ahead and Reyna.

The five minutes it took to get to the park felt like an eternity. You knew you were being followed, the eyes boring into the back of your neck hard to miss.

They were assessing you. Tracking your every move.

You hoped the park would afford you cover and safety. No one was going to kidnap or harm someone with so many witnesses. It would be ridiculous and stupid to do so.

You breathe out a sigh of relief as you enter the playground. Nannies and mothers were everywhere. Children of various ages were playing on the equipment. A bright red swing set, a large sandpit, blue monkey bars and a ginormous jungle gym were among the picks to play on.

You could see why the enjoyed it so much, it was a veritable paradise.

Removing Reyna from her pram, you sit her beside you to apply sunscreen to her delicate skin. She giggles through the entire thing. Her excitement near infectious. “Alright, pretty girl. Let’s get this party started.” You boop her on the nose and haul her into your arms, heading straight for the swing set.

You would vehemently deny it if anyone asked you, but you were enjoying yourself immensely. Despite your slight resentment toward her Reyna was a joyful and happy child, and you found yourself wishing she was yours.

She kicked and laugh with every push. She would stretch out her little arms as if to touch the sky with a beautiful smile and light in her eyes. Her blonde curls shone like a halo in the warm afternoon sun.

Soon you had forgotten all about the men watching you and the danger you were in. You couldn’t find it in yourself to care. Not today.


Bucky showed up an hour later. You hadn’t noticed him at first. He sat silently on a bench watching you interact with his daughter. On the monkey bars, on the slide, his face set in a permanent smile. You blushed crimson when you finally did catch his eye, acutely aware you were covered head to toe in dirt.

Reyna was an enthusiastic sand castle builder and, you’d lost yourself completely in her. It was the happiest you’d felt in a while.

“Having fun?” Bucky asks, trying to suppress the laughter in his voice and failing miserably. He softly removes a twig from your hair, grinning widely the entire time.

“You did good, Barnes. She’s lovely,” you reply sincerely.

His smile dies for a second. His eyes dimming with your words, before he plasters it back on. “I can’t take all the credit.”

You snort in reply. Taking a seat beside the sandbox, Bucky follows suit. “You’re raising her by yourself, Bucky. You can take all the credit.” You pass a spade to Reyna who’s destroying the sand castle you built mere moments before. “You made a beautiful human being. You should be proud.”

Bucky drops his eyes to Reyna, sorrow flashing across his features.

You’re suddenly aware you’re treading in dangerous territory. You had no idea what you stumbled into, but it was obviously a sore topic. “Bucky?” you ask.

He sighs before he returns his attention to you. “She’s not mine,” he says softly.

You swear your eyes bug right out of your head. Your mouth snaps open, then closed with a click, completely lost for words.

“Henry Monrouex,” he says. “Violent drug addict in prison for attempted robbery. He killed two people outside of a bar in Brooklyn. He’s serving two consecutive life sentences in Great Haven Correctional Facility.” Your blank look draws a laugh from him. “He is… was,” he corrects himself, “Ivanna’s lover. After she died, we did paternity. I’m not Reyna’s father.

Courts granted me custody after a couple of months. Steve convinced Henry to sign away his parental rights. He’s not getting out of prison anytime soon, and he never wanted to be a father. But man, did he fight it. The courts weren’t happy either. They went looking for her grandparents. Turns out Ivanna was an orphan. She never told me.”

“Bucky,” you reply sympathetically, placing your hand over his own.

He smiles warmly. “She’s mine in every way that counts.”

“I’m sorry, Bucky. It must have been awful.”

Bucky shakes his head, his brow furrowed. “No. doll, I’m sorry.”

It’s your turn to look at him in confusion. He smiles sadly and squeezes your hand.

“I’m sorry for being selfish. I’m sorry for the pain I caused you. I’m sorry for breaking your heart. I’m sorry for making you feel like you needed to leave. I’m just… sorry.”

You swallow the lump forming in your throat, nodding mutely at his words.

“But most of all, I’m sorry I couldn’t see what was in front of me. How good I had it. I want you to know, it was never you.”

You bark out a laugh. “It’s not you, it’s me, huh?” you reply sourly.

“I know it sounds cliche, but it’s true. It was never you. This was my fault. My doing. My screw up. You are everything I ever wanted. It was never you.”

“Thank you,” you reply, suddenly very tearful.

It was not what you expected to hear from him. Deep down you’d held onto the thought that the entire thing was your fault.

For the first time, in two years you felt relieved. You had a sense of closure. And maybe, finally, you could move on.


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The Preschool Teacher - Chapter 8

Harry scooped Jack up into his arms and clutched around his son, who was still stuttering his breathing on his daddy’s shoulder. Grabbing Jack’s things, Harry paced down the hallway toward the exit at the office, as the principal walked to him and began to speak.

“Mr. Styles, may I speak…”

Harry glared darkly at the old man as he stormed quickly past him, loudly opening and slamming the door of the building, giving not one word of utterance to him. The teaching assistant, having filled Harry in on what she knew, helped Harry piece together enough of the puzzle to know he had nothing he wanted to say to the old buzzard, at least not while his child was present.

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Untitled 003

Just a little Dad!Harold and newborn baby girl blurb for you :)

Every part of your body ached with a dull pain, a sure sign that you’d been pushed nearly to your wits’ end. The small nap you had managed to sneak in for a few hours hadn’t done much in terms of nursing your tiredness, but it had helped some. Sleepily, you turned your head, propped up by a mound of pillows, to see Harry sitting in a blue hospital chair.

Slumped over, rather.

He couldn’t have been very comfortable, one of his long legs tucked up and under himself, the other dangling off the side of the armrest. He held on tightly to a pillow and his head was knocked forward. If you listened closely, you could hear small and even breaths from his tired mouth, shoulders peacefully moving up and down. A smile crept up over your face as you watched him sleep so calmly.

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Gaster theory

Here I go again- hahahah.

Ok so here’s my flowey theory over here

And I use an Undertale Theory tag if you wanna read through stuff I’ve reblogged/mentioned

Now it’s time to hop onto this one which I’ve been obsessing about.


This frigging character right here:

They’ve bugged me forever because they’re not a follower, but obviously they’re not existing too well so they HAVE to be related to Gaster somehow.

So one day I searched up a reference for my comics and found this:

For a while I thought those two lines on the back of Goner kid’s head were spines/spikes like Monster kid.. but…

What if it was done with this? (it’s 1 pixel off but shhhh)

Since monsters can’t handle determination like humans, does that mean instead of pulling determination from monsters, it erases their existence?

But why would someone, anyone use the DT™️ machine on a monster?

I think that Gaster existed and disappeared BEFORE Chara fell into the underground. Resorting to experimenting on what he had on hand, fellow monsters. Obviously wouldn’t sit well with others, which is most likely what caused his untimely demise.

The reason why I think this machine was made before humans had fallen is in Entry number 5.

“using the blueprints” is a strange way to word it, isn’t it?

If humans had existed/fallen at the time Gaster had made this machine, then wouldn’t the blueprints have the name of the machine as a DT Extractor/Extraction Machine? it doesn’t.. Alphys built a machine that she didn’t know what it did and used it on the souls to discover DT.

But how did Gaster disappear?

This theory does rely on Mysteryman being Gaster, or.. at least working for Gaster, he could have been working with Gaster and taken the fall for him.

Honestly it’s always been a part of my favourite theory for him to have somehow fallen into the DT ™️ Machine, but it never clicked until I thought about the lines on the back of Goner kids head, and this specific line:

The fact the Follower says creation instead of Core (and the ice cube falling blatantly onto the Core) led me to believe that the Core was NOT what caused Gaster’s disappearance, it just didn’t make sense.

I mean..

Doesn’t it look like the marks on the back of Goner kids head? Except.. crooked?


The Beast and the Harlot / James March

Originally posted by ahs-hotel-imagines

A/N: Based off this request from iimaddhatzz: “ Sooo i dont normally send requests but wjat about something with james march and he finds out reader is a witch from new Orleans or somethin?“

DUN DUN DUNNNNNN! A kinda cross-over of Hotel and Coven?! Could it be?!

Warnings: I feel like ya’ll should know by now.. Smut, always always always smut. And language.

Life in New Orleans had begun to feel suffocating. Between the constant pressure of excelling at the Seven Wonders, Cordelia annoyingly breathing down my neck at every turn, and the general loathing I felt towards the other girls in the coven; I couldn’t wait to get the hell out of that place. So after proving myself an advanced witch and perfecting the Seven Wonders, that’s exactly what I did.

Cordelia screamed and cried when I came down the steps carrying all of my belongings in a single bag. She claimed that I wasn’t safe on my own and that I should continue to be sheltered and protected within the coven walls. That was a laugh. What sane person would want to stay with a bunch of bratty girls who thought it was a good idea to stitch together a poor dead boy and force him to be their sexual slave? Not only that, but the constant bickering between Madison and Zoe had driven me insane. That entire place could burn to the ground with everyone in it and I wouldn’t bat an eye.

I pushed that slightly arousing thought to the back of my head as I checked the directions on my phone. Trying to navigate around LA, I probably shouldn’t be dwelling on the idea of burning my former home to the ground, no matter how wet it made me to imagine killing every last one of those stupid bitches.

Dumbly, I had left the coven with absolutely no idea of what I was doing. I had hitched rides from Louisiana to California before deciding to try to wing in it Los Angeles. LA was the land of dreams, right?

The problem with an impromptu move to Los Angeles was the fact that rent was high and most of the decent hotels were booked for months out. I’d spent the better part of my first day here trying to find a hotel that wasn’t full and that also wasn’t infested with some sort of bug. When I stumbled across the reviews for the Hotel Cortez, I knew I’d found the perfect place.

There were very few reviews on the place, even though it had been around forever. The few reviews that were on there seemed almost like they had been written by fucking Shakespeare or something. The language was wordy and old-school, but I figured why not? It didn’t have any bad reviews.

I made my way into the dimly lit lobby of the hotel and immediately felt a strange energy throughout the building. There was a short, miserable woman at the counter, reading a magazine when I approached. She paid me no mind and continued to skim her magazine, so I tapped the bell on the counter numerous times until she finally lifted her eyes to me.

“Can I help you?” Her voice was flat and cold.

I rolled my eyes. People with her demeanor shouldn’t work with the public.

“I need a room for a few days, maybe even weeks. You guys book that long?”

She opened the guestbook in front of her and quickly glanced down at it. Nodding affirmatively, she grabbed a key from the wall behind her and tossed it to me.

“Room 190. It’s yours as long as you can manage to stick around here.” Amusement danced in her eyes, almost like she was remembering some sort of inside joke.

I raised an eyebrow at her. “No bugs here, right? You realize you do have to disclose any of that if I request it?”

She laughed a bitter laugh. “Bugs are the last thing that plagues this hotel.”

I pursed my lips. What the fuck was with this woman? Rolling my eyes again, I turned on my heel and headed for the elevators.

I had been staying in the hotel for a few days while my savings were quickly diminishing. Finding a job had proven to be extremely difficult and even more frustrating. All the entry-level positions were apparently taken, and I didn’t have any skills to secure myself anything better than that. I’d been staying in the coven for close to six years and never realized I’d need to be able to be good at things to get a job.

After another long day of a fruitless attempt to find work, I found myself at the bar of the hotel. There were only two other patrons: one was the usual kinky-haired woman in the cheetah print coat, crying into her drink as usual; while the other was a man I hadn’t seen before. He had a commanding presence about him. Everything from his hair to his outfit was crisp and perfect.

He was rolling his bourbon around the sides of his glass when I sat a few seats to his right. I signaled to Liz, the bartender, and she quickly sauntered over to me.

“Just give me a shot of Jack,” I said, running my hands through my hair. “Actually, just bring the whole bottle.”

When Liz placed the bottle and a glass in front of me, I heard the young man next to me snicker. I sincerely hoped he wasn’t laughing at me, because I was in no mood to deal with some snobby prick at the bar.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed him shaking his head softly. I quickly snapped my head to face him, imagining setting fire to his perfectly toned body.

“Something funny?” I growled, shooting daggers at him with my eyes. His eyes briefly glanced over at me before looking back at his drink.

“Of course not, dear. Just something terribly pitiful.” I noticed the corners of his mouth tick up in a smile and I felt fire run through me.

I took a sip of my own drink before turning myself to face him. “I don’t believe I asked for your opinion, asshole.”

“No, you did not. It was merely an observation. You should be thankful I was the one to notice your vulnerable state and not one of the other unsavory men that frequent this bar.”

I scoffed at him. Who did he think he was?

“Thank you for your concern,” I spat, “But I’m more than capable of handling myself. After all, there’s an unsavory man right beside me and I’m not falling all over him.”

He quirked an eyebrow at me and smirked. “Believe me, dear, if I had wanted you to be falling all over me, that’s exactly what would happen.”

I snorted and rolled my eyes. “Whatever, man. The whole 1920′s gangster get-up doesn’t appeal to me.”

He gracefully stood up from his seat and relocated to the seat right beside me. I felt my breath catch in my throat as I felt an odd energy emanating from him. I couldn’t put my finger on what it was, and rather than ask, I remained silent. My reaction could have more to do with my stress levels than anything else. If he wasn’t some sort of witch or spirit, I’d rather not embarrass myself by asking and giving myself away.

He leaned in close to me, running a finger down my jawline. “I was simply looking out for your best interest, dear. I’d hate to see such a beautiful thing taken advantage of.”

I sat stock-still, gauging his next move. He’d caught me off guard and I wasn’t sure what his end game was. I focused my breathing and cleared my mind, trying to use my clairvoyance to determine his motives.

Strangely, though, there was nothing there. Or could I just not get into his head? I’d only had this problem with other witches before…

I was shocked back into reality when his fingers gently traced my bottom lip.

“What’s your name, darling?” His voice was softer now, sultry.

“Kennedy,” I breathed. “Yours?”

“James Patrick March.”

Wait, what? Hadn’t I read that James March had built this hotel and died in it? Maybe it was a name that had been passed down in the family.

Or maybe something was off here, like I had suspected the moment I walked in the lobby a few days ago. I didn’t have much time to dwell on it, however, as Mr. March’s finger continued its exploration. He had softly dragged the tip of his long digit down my neck, gauging my reaction closely.

Well, fuck it. He wants to play, we’ll play.

I grabbed his finger as it attempted to slip between the valley of my breasts. Locking eyes with him, I wrapped my lips around his finger and sucked softly before releasing his hand back to him. His eyes narrowed and I noticed his mouth curl into a devilish smirk.

Grabbing my hand, James stood from his seat. “Shall we continue this back in my room, my darling Kennedy?”

I stood as well and began walking towards the elevators, gently pulling James behind me. There was a slight tension in the air as we waited for the elevator to reach our level. Once the doors opened and we walked into the small space, James immediately shoved me against a wall and attached his lips to my collarbone. I groaned and grabbed his backside and forced him closer to me, feeling his hard member against my thigh.

I quickly flipped us so that James was pressed against the hard wood of the elevator. I bit at his lip before sucking it into my mouth with a teasing lick. He grabbed the back of my head, bringing our lips together for a proper kiss that ended up being anything but proper. Our tongues fought for dominance as our hands groped every part of each other that we could reach.

A loud ding! alerted us to the fact that the elevator had reached our desired floor. I began to pull away from James, but before I got too far, he pulled me back towards him and lifted me by my thighs towards him. I surrendered and wrapped my legs around his waist, biting harshly at his neck.

As we walked down the hallway, I uncharacteristically let out a giggle.

When James shot me a questioning look, I smirked and shook my head.

“You’re not worried that someone might be walking around the halls and see us like this?”

He laughed quietly before saying, “Darling, I own this hotel. I do what I please. If anyone should have a problem with my behavior, they’ll be dealt with accordingly.”

We finally reached his room and it took everything in me to not strip him out of his clothes as soon as I heard the door shut. James looked at me like he was a predator and I was his prey. Producing a knife from a hidden area under his pants leg, he cut my dress down the middle before shoving the fabric off my shoulders and to the floor.

“My dear, you are a revelation.”

His lips were on mine in an instant, his hands groping selfishly at my breasts. James walked me backwards until the back of my legs hit the bed. Pushing me down gently, he crawled on top of me and pulled the cups of my bra down so that my breasts were exposed and pushed up.

Biting my lip, I tried to keep quiet as his lips circled around a hardened nipple. I twisted my hands in the comforter and writhed on the bed. His eyes locked with mine, watching as I struggled to maintain my sanity.

Before I knew it, he had slipped a long digit into my heat. I let out a whimper, closing my eyes and pushing my hips towards him. His thumb softly brushed across my clit and my hips bucked on their own accord.

“Let me hear you, darling,” James whispered into my ear before biting my earlobe softly. Not one to disappoint, I let out a long moan as I felt another finger easing inside me.

He picked up speed, brushing across my clit with such precision that I was seeing stars. My hands ran through his perfectly styled hair, roughing it up. It somehow made him look even sexier, with his wild eyes and hair to match.

Another moan slipped past my lips as James lowered himself. I felt his tongue flick across my sensitive nub, scissoring his fingers inside of my heat. His pace was relentless. I was breathing heavily and arching my back as I felt my orgasm sneak up on me.

“I want to hear you scream when you release, darling. I want everyone in this god damn hotel to know how good I’m making you feel,” James’s words sent me over the edge, spiraling into an earth-shattering orgasm. I gripped at the sheets as I called his name like a prayer.

It took me a few moments to collect myself after coming down from my high. James had somehow rid himself of his clothes in that time and he leaned down and brushed his lips against mine.

“I want you to taste yourself. Surely a delicacy as fine as you should not be kept secret.” He kissed me forcefully, licking into my mouth. I groaned as I tasted myself. Gripping the back of my neck, James flipped us over so that I was straddling him. I rubbed myself against him, loving the noises he made as my dripping cunt came in contact with his length.

He pulled the hair at my nape hard enough to make my head snap back. “Do not tease me, love. I’m not a man that likes to wait.”

Using his other hand, he positioned the head of his cock at my opening. I shuddered as I lowered myself onto him, feeling him stretch me. His eyes closed as he let out a hiss, grabbing my hips with a bruising force.

I began a slow rhythm, wanting him to lose patience and fuck me recklessly. Every time I would slowly lift myself off him, I would quickly drop back onto his cock. He quickly tired of my games and began working my hips himself.

“What did I tell you about teasing?” His eyes flashed dangerously as I felt him roughly buck his hips into me. “Now touch yourself while my cock is inside you. Make yourself cum all over my cock.”

I obeyed, snaking my hand to my core and rubbing furiously. His lips were everywhere: my jaw, my neck, my breasts. The rate at which he was pounding into me left me breathless. I couldn’t remember another time when someone was fucking me half as well as he was.

“James,” I sighed loudly, letting my head drop back onto my shoulders. James picked up his pace, twisting my nipples as I felt myself get closer to yet another orgasm.

“Louder,” he commanded, moving a hand to my nape and scratching down my back. The pain and pleasure blurred as I felt the skin there splitting open.

I began bouncing on his cock wildly. “James!”

“Louder!” He pulled at my hair now, his actions becoming less measured. I locked eyes with him as I screamed his name, cumming so hard my vision blacked.

A long groan left his lips as he spilled his seed inside of me. My vision still black, I suddenly felt a sharp, cold pain across my neck. As my vision cleared, I looked down and saw blood dripping onto James’s bare chest.

Did he really just-

Everything went black for a moment. I was teetering on the edge of life and death, lost in the void.

Centralizing my energy, I began to focus on attaching my soul to my body again. I guess I should be somewhat thankful for Cordelia for being such a good teacher, but then again, I hadn’t planned to have to use my powers outside of the coven.

I felt myself gasp for breath. Coughing slightly, I shot upright in the bed and looked around wildly. James was lying on the bed beside me, smoking a cigarette and looking utterly terrified. Feeling at my neck, I noticed the wound there had begun to close.

My palm made contact with James’s cheek with a satisfying slap. “What the fuck is your problem?!”

Still confused, he merely stared at me before finding his voice. “What are you?”

“I’m a fucking witch! What the fuck are you?!” I seethed, storming from the bed and gathering what was left of my clothing.

James chuckled lowly, causing me to spin and look at him.

“Well, dear.. I guess you could say I’m a ghost,” he looked me up and down appreciatively. “I think we’ll have a lot of fun together.”

He pulled me back onto the bed with him, spreading my legs and burying himself inside me once again.