#Carey white x male reader

[dominantslasherking]

can i request another part or version of the male carrie white x reader?

Male! Carrie White Dominant Addams! Male S/o

My Stories are meant for the much more mature audience, 18+

Imagine young Johnny Depp with dirty blonde hair for the male Carrie (Or someone else if you would like.)

DARK! Carrie White, He truly embraces his slasher side after meeting you.

So, I had this idea about, like the reader is a part of the Addams family, Carey takes an interest and so do you.

PS: I'm using 'Carey' for the male version of the name 'Carrie'

Your dull eyes troll across the horror fiction, upon the glorious rows, You were quite new to this school and the only thing that put a sadistic smile on your face was the horror books, and seeing other teens tripping or falling on their faces, but that was quite it.

After picking out a few horror books that seemed to be devilishly perfect, you went to find a seat in the empty library. Eyes quickly darted towards the male who was reading one of your favorite horror books. Which was titled, "Screams upon the grave,"

"Fantastique," You lulled out silently in french, which suddenly sent shivers down Carey's spine, as it added an unspeakable feeling, that he enjoyed thoroughly.

French-Fantastique = English- Fantastic

Carey's eyes made their way to you, looking at your black attire which was neatly put together.

(For reference)

Carey gulped on his saliva as he spoke up, "Y-Yes?" Carey tried to pry his eyes away from the book but he was too embarrassed, and his lack of communication skills didn't help either.

"Your book...It's horrific." You gave a smirk, Carey noticed that you didn't seem to be insulting the book but rather...gushing over it in a strange way?

Carey was rather baffled, at your strangeness...After all who would willingly talk to him? He was the sole survivor of Bates High since he went berserk with his powers. Now no one at the new school wanted to talk or speak to him unless it was calling him a freak, oh how they wouldn't do that if they truly knew what he was capable of.

Taking a seat next to Carey he stared at you, "What is your favorite death in the book so far?" You asked not keeping your eyes off him.

"M-My...favorite....death?" Carey slowly asked, wondering if he heard right, "Oui." You spoke french, which meant 'yes'. Carey got a shiver once more.

French-Oui = English-yes

"I-...Really like the one where....Uhm- The group of classmates were tormented and...tortured by the evil spirit..." Carey slowly spoke, finally his eyes resting on your bleak ones.

"Hm...That was a rather graphic one, wasn't it? My favorite was the one, who had telekinetic powers...He had a charming personality, thought ---and-did many ways of killing people." Carey listened closely as you spoke, somehow feeling a bit jealous as you continued to describe how this other fictional telekinetic person was.

"Its...It's not as good as when I massacred the entire Bates high, with my telekinetic abilities!-" Carey blurted out unable to contain himself. Wanting to feel your praise and gush over him.

A large smile placed itself on your face as you looked at him, "Prove it.." You slowly spoke, as Carey wasted no time pointing at a random girl and saying, "Watch.."

Your eyes trail over to the girl, watching as her hair suddenly began to levitate, and she began gnawing at her throat. Suddenly her skin began to rip and tear, as her head and some of her neck, was ripped off her body, floating in the air her spinal cord still attached as blood spewed everywhere.

"Wow, Your quite deadly aren't you?" You turned back to Carey to see him looking at you, "I'm impressed..."

Both you and Carey gave each other a big smile.

[rawiswhore]

Various WWF Wrestlers x Fem Reader- "Back That Ass Up"

The 1990's...a time when most rock bands and singers didn't sexually objectify women in their songs and music videos.

A time when popular female singers, from female singer-songwriters to lead singers of bands to R&B singers, barely ever showed their bodies off and used sex to sell themselves.

A time when it seemed like women who defined the decade were sarcastic, deadpan, nonsexualized alt girls like Janeane Garofalo, Juliana Hatfield and Daria from the titular MTV cartoon.

A time where you had riot grrrl bands like Bikini Kill angrily protesting rape and sexual assault.

A time when Gwen Stefani, who was then known for being the lead singer of a band, stating how she's "had it up to here" with sexism while she points to her forehead.

A time when Sonic Youth's Kim Gordon asked "Are you gonna liberate us girls with your male white corporate oppression?" and Queen Latifah making diss tracks towards misogynistic men.

But then...as the 1990's come to a close, just when you thought professional wrestling had dwindled in popularity when so many of their top stars during the 1980's left the World Wrestling Federation, pro wrestling made a comeback in 1996 and 1997 due to Hulk Hogan turning heel and a wrestling company known as WCW was beating the WWF (World Wrestling Federation, not World Wildlife Fund) in the ratings.

What was the WWF to do?

Instead of having a kid friendly product that seemed like a live action Saturday morning cartoon and had their faces of the company not using profanity or adult-like things despite having lots of charisma and being fan favorites with the audience, the WWF by the end of the 1990's became edgier, more violent, sexualized, shocking, trashier, vulgar and "adult like" than ever before.

You could say that the WWF was growing up with their audience who were kids watching the WWF when Hulk Hogan, Macho Man and even Bret Hart and Razor Ramon were the faces of the company that were now transitioning into teenagers who love sexualized women, middle fingers, sexual innuendo, violence and profanity.

Speaking of sexualized women, during the 1990's, when you had hardly any sexualized female recording artists save for a few and rock bands who barely sexually objectified women, by the end of the decade, the World Wrestling Federation would have their women's roster, be it from valets like Debra and Terri Runnels to legitimate wrestlers like Ivory and Jacqueline, participate in bikini contests where they'd be judged for their beauty and dressed in bikinis that left nothing to the imagination, and worse, the women's roster would participate in the infamous "bra & panties" and evening gown matches where women would tear each others clothes and dresses off in the ring until they were down to a bra and thong, or they'd wrestle in bikinis in pools of mud or pudding.

To add insult to injury, this was considered "women's wrestling" by the late 90's and some women would end up winning the World Championship belt for participating in matches involving them tearing their clothes off or "wrestling" in bikinis in pools of pudding or mud.

Plus, the World Wrestling Federation during the late 90's was also a time when you had wrestlers playing pimps that would have groups of prostitutes following them and men who would have half naked women cuddled with them.

And worse of all...some wrestlers played characters that would degrade women, from the Rock telling Chyna she "belongs on her knees", Jeff Jarrett being a misogynistic asshole who thinks men are better than women, some racially insensitive Asian men degrading his wife and someone drugging a woman and marrying her through a drive through wedding whilst unconscious.

After a time where you had feminist-esque female recording artists that almost never used sex to sell themselves, wrote their own music and played their own instruments who performed at those Lilith Fair concert tours (tours that featured all female recording artists), male rock bands and singers who didn't sexually objectify women, the NBA launching the Women's NBA playing legit basketball like men and not dressed in skimpy outfits, and the list goes on for days, the World Wrestling Federation now had most of their female roster participate in bikini contests where they were judged for their beauty and women were mostly there to be portrayed as sex objects and nothing else.

It was like this was a backlash towards Lilith Fair and nonsexualized, feminist female singer-songwriters, rock bands that didn't objectify women, and nonsexualized women in the 1990's in general.

Then again, the WWF's Attitude era as it was known as was a product of its time, popular around the same time other trashy pop culture like the Jerry Springer show, Jenny Jones and Ricki Lake's talk shows, Howard Stern, "South Park", Tom Green, Eminem at his most shocking and Marilyn Manson was at the height of his popularity.

Granted, the 1990's weren't completely wholesome, considering this was also the era of gangsta rap that sexually objectified and sometimes even degraded women, "Baywatch" was a popular show that was just an excuse to see beautiful women with silicone breast implants running on the beach in slow motion in tight red swimsuits, Playboy playmates like Pamela Anderson, Jenny McCarthy, and Anna Nicole Smith were popular sex symbols, Howard Stern was a pop culture icon infamous for sexually objectifying women, and there were even some female singers who used sex to sell themselves during the 90's like Madonna, Janet Jackson, Salt N Pepa, TLC, Adina Howard and more, and by the end of the decade we had the Spice Girls, Lil' Kim, Foxy Brown, Mariah Carey becoming more sexualized, Britney Spears, and Jennifer Lopez getting a record deal.

However, for every oversexualized Adina Howard, there was a Mariah Carey or Whitney Houston. For every oversexed Madonna, there was a Tori Amos. For every band that objectified women, there was a band that didn't objectify women.

Speaking of sexualization, you were one of the many bricks in the wall of the oversexualized women's roster during the WWF's Attitude era.

Not only did you participate in a few of those bikini contests, bra & panties and evening gown matches as well as those mud/pudding/gravy matches where you and another woman wrestled in a bikini, but your character you will always be remembered for playing was a scantily clad, nymphomaniac-like slut who was basically the wrestling equivalent to Madonna during her early 90's sex era and a female Val Venis.

From seducing wrestlers while you wore outfits that left little to the imagination, entering the ring wearing nothing but wrestling belts covering your bathing suit areas, cutting wrestling promos while being gangbanged (though your private parts weren't shown on television), rubbing cum on your body like it's lotion (though it wasn't really cum), wearing outfits that exposed your uncovered breasts not even being covered by pasties, wearing shirts that read "Pervert 69" on the back (parodying Janet Jackson's "Pervert" shirt she wore at the 1995 MTV VMA's), and Ministry Undertaker sacrificing you for being a whore, to roleplaying as a urinal while wrestlers jerk off in your mouth or on your face, becoming one of the Godfather's hoes (and you don't mean "The Godfather" as in the Francis Ford Coppola masterpiece), Triple H and Shawn Michaels undressing you until you lay in the ring wearing nothing but a thong and they pulled a bottle of lotion out and squeezed it to simulate ejaculation, and to top it all off, having actual sex in the ring with Val Venis while over 1000 people watched this in the audience and it was broadcast on television.

The WWF was nearly rated TV-MA almost because of you, and was getting boycotts and protests partially because of you.

However, despite many shocking moments that made headline news and caused controversy and nearly got you arrested for obscenity charges, this particular moment was slightly tame in comparison.

Almost near the end of 1998, during one of those "up next" vignettes that had the guitar riff to Slam Jam's "We're All Together Now" playing, you were on all fours on your knees on top of a bench in the locker room.

While you were on all fours on top of this bench, Triple H, Shawn Michaels, Billy Gunn, Val Venis, Christian, Test, Jeff Hardy, Steven Regal and Kane were circled around you, standing on your sides.

Triple H had his long blond hair hanging down, not with a ponytail in the back, Shawn Michaels didn't have his hair tied back in a ponytail, and Billy had his hair hanging down, not tied back in a ponytail or in little braids.

You were wearing nothing but a bra and thong and being filmed from behind, and as you were being filmed, you rolled your ass backward and arched it up a few times.

Your thong was buried and snug in between your ass cheeks, your pantyline covering your vulva.

Thankfully, you were shaved down there, not a single bit of pubic hair peeking out from your panty line or your panties, and you didn't have any bumps on your bikini line and thighs.

These aforementioned wrestlers around you were just staring at your ass rolling back, they all smiled from ear to ear, nearly salivating at your mouths.

These wrestlers surrounding you were cheering for you, Shawn even put his fingers into his mouth and wolf whistled at you.

Jerry Lawler sitting at the commentary table was going nuts, his eyes nearly bugging out of his head.

Grown men and underage boys in the audience are getting a massive kick over seeing you roll your ass to the camera, cheering for you and a few of them wolf whistling at you.

Triple H put his hand in one of his jean pockets and pulled out a dollar, where he slipped that dollar in between one of your thong straps.

Shawn, too, put his hand down the pocket of his slacks, where he pulled out a few dollar bills and his other hand stretched out one of your thong straps, putting that money at your hip, only to let go of your thong strap afterward, letting your thong hold that money.

Val and Billy really wish they could have some money to pull out and make it rain on you, though Billy wears those Mr. Ass shorts and Val is known for wearing a Speedo and a towel over it, neither of their outfits have pockets.

"Is that money!?" Jim Ross asked at the commentary table.

"Somebody better get her a pole!" Jerry Lawler exclaimed, his voice shrill as usual.

Indeed, you could use a stripper pole for this moment, but there sadly aren't any poles in the locker room.

You pulled yourself up from the bench, placing your feet on the bench and standing up on top of the bench, but after you got yourself up, you still continued dancing and shaking your ass.

Somebody come get her, she's dancin' like a stripper...

Some of these wrestlers surrounding you pretended to be shocked by when you assembled yourself up from the bench, their eyes bugging out and their mouths dropping open as well as walking a few steps back as if to act like they're shocked, only for them to smile after their mouths were agape.

Once you stood on top of the bench, you placed your hands on your knees and stuck your ass out, rolling your ass backwards and sometimes even shaking and bouncing your ass, basically twerking.

You smiled and your head was slightly turned looking at your rear whilst you rolled your ass backwards, hands on your knees, shakin' ass on your thot shit.

Triple H, Billy, Shawn, and Val were looking at you, smiling from ear to ear, especially Billy Gunn who placed one of his hands on your ass cheeks and squeezed it.

Hey, his nickname is Mr. Ass, that's why he did that.

You turned your body around and gyrated your ass and hips around in a circle, rolling your hips to the beat of the guitar riff of that Slam Jam song, and as you did that, you lifted your hands off of your knees and grabbed one of your bra straps, where you slid that bra strap down on of your arms, teasing the audience.

You looked at the camera filming in front of you with this "come hither" expression on your face.

Just as it looked like you were gonna take your bra off, the camera then cut to commercial.

Bah.

You wanted to do so much during this moment; besides spin around a stripper pole, you also wanted lie on your back on the bench with your legs spread up and shaking your ass, squat down on the bench and spread your legs out with your hands on your knees, but this moment was short.

Y'know, since you were roleplaying as a stripper and some wrestlers were pulling money out and sticking it in your G-string, you're surprised Vince McMahon, the CEO and boss of the WWF and pretty much the Ted Debiase Sr. of the Attitude era (and Ted DeBiase Sr. was known for playing a millionaire in the 80's and early 90's) wasn't in this segment pulling dollar bills out on you.

Though, Vince McMahon is a snake, even when the cameras aren't rolling.

[bucky-at-bedtime]

Familiar

Summary: Steve wanders into a record shop looking to make a dent in his to-do list. He doesn’t expect the owner to make a dent in his life. 

Pairing: Steve x reader

Warnings: Guess what? more fluff.

Words: 2,800

A/n: So, I wasn’t planning on posting this but... here it is?? Thanks, @averyrogers83 - you gave me this idea and I really like how it turned out... Please give me feedback! I know this is kinda cheesy but I liked writing it. Love u all. seriously 💛💛💛 I might make this a multi-chapter thingo if it gets a good response... what do you guys think?

ALSO I only have one person on my Steve taglist so, like, feel free to shoot me an ask to be added to that?? Or any of my taglists tbh

Masterlist

The record store was in a quiet part of town, and in turn, the store was pretty much empty, aside from the clerk whose head was resting on her folded arms - possibly asleep at the counter. The shelves were covered in a thin layer of dust, occasionally broken by a fingerprint or some sign of the products being moved, and records in cardboard sleeves were scattered, almost randomly, across every surface. Many of the corners were worn and many images were faded, but there was a shelf of brand-new records to one side - records still covered in plastic wrap with vivid artwork and photography. A bell chimed quietly when he pushed the door open, but the girl sitting at the counter didn’t budge.

It felt like a place out of time - something that shouldn’t have survived so long - just like him.

As soon as Steve entered, a feeling of comfort washed over him. The familiarity of a record store - rows upon rows of vinyls and posters with torn edges - it even smelled the same. He inhaled deeply, surveying the shelves around him and looking for anything familiar. There wasn’t much, but that’s okay - he wasn’t here for his old music.

He dug into his pocket, pulling out a tattered notebook and flipping to the page with his to-do list. He let out a sigh as he stared at the list, he was pretty sure he would never catch up with the modern world, not with the amount of entertainment in the world. Not after so much time had passed.

He wandered down one isle, his fingers lightly tracing the tops of records, searching for ‘Nirvana,’ one of the bands on his list. After what felt like a very long time, his fingers finally came to a halt, drifting over the title of an album - ‘From the Muddy Banks of the Wishkah’ by Nirvana - and he quickly pulled it out, studying the cover.

“I wouldn’t go for that album,” a sweet voice interrupted his perusing and he flinched slightly at the sudden noise breaking the tranquility of the record store.

“Sorry, you just, don’t seem like you know what you’re looking for and that-” you gestured to the record in his hands, “-is Nirvana’s worst album.”

He blinked lamely at you, confused by your sudden appearance. You ignored his silence and began to flick through the record yourself. “This, is their best album.” you smiled, holding up ‘Nevermind,’ Nirvana’s second album, gesturing for him to take it.

“Uh– I didn’t realise it was so obvious. My cluelessness, I mean.” he had finally collected his thoughts, and stuttered out a response, placing the first record down and taking the one from your hands.

“Well, you were frozen in ice for 70 years or something - I connected the dots.”

“Ah, so you did recognise me,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his head in embarrassment.

“Yeah, I watch the news every once and a while.” you chuckled, picking up a few stray records, intending to sort them into their proper space.

“Right, of course,” he mumbled, a small smile gracing his features as he followed you down the isle, intending to buy the record and leave. “You uh, seem to know a lot about Nirvana. They a favourite of yours?”

“Not really. I just know a lot about pop culture. Working in a place like this - you learn a lot about music. Plus I have a lot of spare time.” you glanced back at him, watching curiously as he read the back of the record.

You assumed the conversation was over, and turned to continue working.

“Hey, wait, would you– would you be able to help me? I uh… need to try and catch up so if you have any suggestions…”

You turned immediately on your heel, grinning towards the tall blonde man. “I thought you’d never ask,” you said, excitement lacing your voice as you immediately starting to make a list in your head. “I’m y/n, by the way.”

He chuckled lightly at your excitement, a sweet smile reaching his cheeks as he watched you filter through the records in your arms, dropping the pile on the counter in front of you and pulling out two records.

“Ok, we have ‘Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band’ - The Beatles, I’m sure you’ve heard of them.” You looked up to gauge his reaction and he nodded his head in confirmation.

“Already heard a few of their songs,” he mumbled, taking the colourful record from you and adding it to the Nirvana one.

You held up the next record, a single. He stared blankly at the plain white cover, reading the title out. “Spice, Wan-abe?” His face was set in a grimace, immediately judging a book by its cover.

“The Spice Girls - Wannabe,” you corrected, laughing at his pronunciation. “It was really popular in the 90s, everybody in the world knows the lyrics to this chorus,” you mumbled, piling it on top of his other records.

He was still staring at the cover, suddenly unsure about your judgement, but he followed as you began to rush down another isle. “This place is like a maze,” he murmured, eyes trailing over the tall shelves in alarm, “How do you know where everything is?”

“I’ve been in this place pretty much every day since I was born - my dad owned it,” you explained, tracing your fingers across the spines of a few records. “I know this place like the back of my ha– here it is!”

You pulled out another record, briefly showing him the cover before thrusting it into his arms. “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road - Elton John - Really popular in the 70s, Elton John is one of the greats.”

He nodded along, slightly overwhelmed by all the information, but glad to have someone who knew what they were talking about, rather than Tony’s bias towards ‘AC DC’ and Sam’s strange addiction to 90s boy bands.

“Oh! This is what’s playing now.” You pulled a black and white album cover from a nearby shelf and pointed up, gesturing to the speakers. “The Rolling Stones - Exile on Main st.”

A breathy laugh escaped his lips as he watched you shake your head from side to side to the rhythm of ‘Casino Boogie,’ squeezing your eyes shut in enjoyment.

“You really know your stuff,” he chuckled, adding the record to his pile.

You opened your eyes and he watched as they glistened with your passion for these records - the music, the artists, the store. You were at home here, and he found himself wishing he had something like that.

You added another couple of records to his pile - Michael Jackson, Prince, Mariah Carey, Whitney Houston - before heading towards the shelf of modern music.

“Alright, there is a lot of good modern music, but there’s also a lot of bad modern music that’s really popular anyway - so I’ll try to be gentle.”

He laughed at your words and turned to watch as your fingers hovered over album titles and artists, your bottom lip pulled into your teeth.

“Uhmm, we’ll go with this.” You pulled out a dark record, holding it up to show him.

“Macklemore and Ryan Lewis - The Heist,” he read out, taking the record from your hands and studying the back of it.

You moved closer, so that you were standing next to him, your shoulder brushing against his own as you explained. “It’s rap, but some of the stuff on here is really powerful. Same Love is an amazing song about equality and homophobia and Wing$ is all about materialism and violence…”

He had stopped listening, distracted by the way you moved as you explained passionately. Your eyes had that look in them again, and he couldn’t tear his own eyes away. Your hands gesticulated, pointing to the tracklist as you directed him towards the best songs as he could see the excitement, the passion, in your movement.

He blinked, subtly shaking his head as he tuned back in.

“Oh, and ‘Cowboy boots’ is a bit of fun - good to sing along to.” you confirmed, pulling your hand away to look up at him.

“I’d like to hear that,” he mumbled, eyes widening as he realised what he’d said. He frantically tried to come up with a way to backpedal out of his statement, and he could’ve sworn he saw your eyes widen slightly, but you took it well.

“Oh trust me, you wouldn’t - I sound like a dying cat when I sing.” you laughed, taking a step back and picking up another album. “But, get a few drinks in me and I become the absolute queen of karaoke. Now that’s something you’d like to see.”

He laughed along with you, running a hand through his hair, already forgetting his awkward slip-up.

“Alright, last one.” You reached up to a higher shelf and pulled down a bright orange album. “Ed Sheeran’s first mainstream album - it broke the world back in 2011 when it came out, he’s probably the most popular male artist of recent history.”

You placed the final album gently on top of his pile, sending him an accomplished smile.

“Wow, this is a bit of a to-do list” he chuckled, staring down at the massive, colourful pile in his arms.

You laughed. “You asked, buddy.” You patter him gently on the shoulder and he could’ve sworn a shiver ran through his entire body at your touch.

“Wow it’s actually almost closing time,” you mumbled, noticing the sun going down outside and checking your watch. “I’ll ring those up for you and then close up shop.”

He followed you to the counter, watching as you carefully placed the record in a brown bag and hummed along to another song that was playing on the speaker system.

“So I’m curious,” you mumbled, pulling him from his trance, “you want to catch up with the modern world, why buy records? I’m assuming you have a phone and iTunes.”

He laughed gently at the question, the corner of his mouth twisting up. “I guess– I guess it’s just nice to have something I know. In the middle of everything so… so foreign and new, it’s uh comforting to have something… familiar.”

You felt a smile pull at your lips as you pushed the bag across the counter to him, your eyes meeting for a moment. His eyes were full of wistfulness as he looked back at you, a grateful smile on his lips.

“Well, the door’s always open,” you tilted your head towards the door, attempting to send him a comforting smile. “I mean, in a metaphorical way, not literally, I’m actually about to lock up”

He laughed, but thanked you gently. He knew it was strange, but he wanted to stay, to keep listening to you talk. your passion was exhilarating and it made him feel warm, as sappy as that sounded. 

His head turned as if he was about to walk out, but he suddenly turned back to you, his mouth open as if he wanted to say something but he wasn’t sure how.

“You alright there, captain?” You smirked, organising the last few things on the counter.

“Can I walk you home?” He blurted the words out, unsure of how else to phrase it and your head flicked up in surprise, your eyes wide.

“I’m sorry - that was weird, I’ll just… go.” He turned on his heel, brusquely trying to escape his awkward moment.

“No!” You flung your backpack over your shoulder and rushed around the counter to meet him. “I’d love for you to walk me home,” you stated confidently, grinning up at him.

He smiled down at you. “Alright. Alright, let’s go.”

He pulled the door open, allowing you to walk out in front of him and you smiled thankfully, brushing a hair behind your ear. He held his arm out to you once you locked the door and you looped yours underneath, chuckling lightly at his old-fashioned, gentlemanly actions.

“I have an idea,” you stated, digging your hands into your pockets and pulling out some headphones and your phone. “I’ll show you some music while we walk - some of my favourite stuff, not world-famous like the records I gave you.”

You reached up and slipped the headphone into his ear, putting the other one in your ear and scrolling through your iTunes library, clicking on your favourote song by Rex Orange County.

‘Loving is easy

You had me fucked up,

It used to be so hard to see

Yeah, loving is easy

When everything’s perfect

Please don’t change a single little thing for me’

The song started playing and you began to him along instantly, knowing it off by heart. He sent you a smile and nodded his head along to the rhythm.

“This is nice,” he mumbled, his arm falling down and his fingers subconsciously intertwining with your own, he realised what he was doing, but it was too late, and he felt a blush spread across his cheeks when you didn’t pull your hand away. “Better than anything Tony tried to show me.”

You laughed at that, tapping your thumb lightly on the back of his hand. You were a little shocked when his hand grabbed yours, but of course Steve Rogers had some moves. 

‘When you can’t even hide it

And it didn’t take forever to find it

I was all on my own

Almost glad to be alone

Until love came in

On time, on time’

He felt like he was floating and he couldn’t pull the smile off of his face. His heart beat in time with the song and he felt your thumb tapping lazily on the back of his hand he watched you in the corner of his eye, trying not to get caught.

Your hair fell loosely in front of his face and if he listened closely, he could hear your voice as you quietly sang along. He didn’t think you sounded like a dying cat at all.

He’d only just met you, but he knew he wanted to keep you around.

‘So, loving is easy

You had me fucked up,

It used to be so hard to see

Yeah, loving is easy

When everything’s perfect

Please don’t change a single little thing for me’

You glanced up at him, catching his eyes as he was already looking at you. You smiled, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth.

It was strange. A few hours ago, Captain America walked into your shop, looking for help with his to-do list. Now, he was walking you home, holding your hand and listening to your music. This was the kind of thing that happened in rom-coms, and suddenly it was happening to you in real-life.

His hand squeezed yours gently and you felt a blush rush across your neck, threatening to flood your cheeks. You averted your eyes, looking down at the pavement.

‘So listen girl,

When you can’t even hide it

And it didn’t take forever to find it

I was all on my own

Almost glad to be alone

Until love came in

On time, on time’

He pulled the headphone out as the song ended, and you looked back up at him, raising a brow inquisitively.

“That was... amazing, do you have his vinyl?”

“Of course I do,” you chuckled, “you’ll have to come visit me at the store sometime.” You said the words in a light-hearted tone, but you hoped with everything you had that he would come back. 

“Trust me, I will.” he murmured, forcing you to smile again, the blush finally reaching your cheeks.

“Alright well, this is my place.” you gestured towards the apartment building and he nodded his head slowly in recognition.

You looked down at your connected hands and slowly released his fingers, letting your hand fall to your side.

“Thank you, for the records, and for teaching me about some of this stuff,” he mumbled, lifting the bag slightly.

You knew this was where you were supposed to say goodbye, and hope to see him again at the store, but you couldn’t just leave it at that. You had no idea where this new-found confidence came from, but you reached forward, pulling a pen out of your bag and lifting his shirt from his wrist. He was an old-fashioned guy - you decided to do something a little old-fashioned, and wrote out your number on his wrist.

When you were done, you glanced up at his shocked face, leaving towards him and pressing your lips gently to his cheek, as close to his lips as possible.

“Call me, Steve,” you whispered into his ear, brushing your fingers across his shoulder as you pulled away.

He nodded gently, a blush spreading across his cheeks. “I will, doll.”

You felt a shiver run down your spine as you turned away, entering your building and leaving Captain America on the side of the road.

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[columbuscomicscorner-blog]

JEAN GREY #6 REVIEW **SPOILERS**

Writer: Dennis Hopeless Artists: Paul Davidson and Jay David Ramos Letterer: VC’s Travis Lanham Cover Artist: David Yardin Publisher: @marvelentertainment NCBD: 8/30/17 Review: Rob Carey

Having completed her escapades with Namor, Thor, and Psylocke, the young time-displaced Jean Grey turns to Doctor Strange for help in examining the voices in her head, which she suspects is the Phoenix Force. After a seance sans-theatrics, they find themselves confronting the voice itself: the psychic imprint of what appears to be the adult Jean Grey from main continuity (let's call her OG Jean for simplicity's sake). In a journey ala ghost-of-Christmas-past, young Jean and Doctor Strange cycle through OG Jean's life. The vignettes include: an appearance of Dark Phoenix mid-cosmic tantrum; teenage Jean serving her own birthday cake to her male teammates; some good old Jim Lee-era Acolyte fights; and a pissing match between OG Jean and Emma Frost over Cyclops.In the end though, OG Jean appears as a teacher, leading young Jean to accept that, like the Phoenix Force itself, she is equal parts good and evil. The journey ends with OG Jean bursting into a fireball and plunging young Jean and Doctor Strange back to their bodies. But when the seance is over, young Jean realizes that the spirit/ghost/psychic imprint of OG Jean -- in her death outfit -- isn't going anywhere.

I can say this much for sure: not one reader saw this coming. If we accept the facts in this issue at face-value -- never advised in comic book reading -- then this was a delightfully strange [no pun intended] way to bring back our original Jean Grey. I certainly thought that the voice was the Phoenix Force in endless pursuit and that when OG Jean returned, it would be as the White Phoenix of the Crown. Presenting her as a ghost is pretty brilliant for purposes of this series, though I admit that if this is how she's really brought back into our continuity I might be disappointed. 

This book was loaded with highlights. OG Jean's "teaching" was well-written, and the blending of memory and fantasy was well choreographed. The modern take down of Lee and Kirby's acceptable-for-the-times use of OG Jean in the 1960s X-books was epic: "I'm an omega-level telekinetic using my gifts to slice up and distribute cake to a roomful of wildly insecure little boys who can't decide if my role on the team should be -- damsel in distress, sex kitten, house keeper or mascot!"And kudos to Hopeless for turning down young Jean's insufferable dialogue. 

Davidson''s art in this book is a little more cartoony than I prefer, particularly in the first few pages and in his depictions of Doctor Strange. But it's still very good. His ability to hit the right notes of surrealism while still keeping the panels grounded in a comic book format leads to easy digestion for readers despite an elevated style. Well done. On the other hand, this is the fourth artist in six books. And while I mean no disrespect to Davidson, his art here isn't hitting the same notes for me that Ibanez did with the first three issues. This is a series that could benefit from consistency in the lead artist. 

So here's the question of the day: is that reallyOG Jean Grey's psyche? As we see in the current run of Astonishing X-Men (spoilers), just because a telepath dies doesn't mean that his or her psyche can't live on in the Astral Plane. But that seems too convenient for the same plot point to appear in both series. Perhaps this isn't OG Jean Grey. Could it be the Phoenix toying with her? Or an alternate reality/timeline Jean? Or maybe -- gasp! -- it's another living telepath messing with young Jean in the most vicious way possible. Now let me think, what living psychics have enough skill to trick Jean and Doctor Strange, have enough sadism to do such a thing, and truly, deeply,passionately hate Jean Grey? Hmmmm....

8.0/10

Hear more discussion of Jean Grey #6 on the X-Men Monday Podcast, here.

[dominantslasherking]

Male Carrie White x Supernatural Male Reader

Mostly something wholesome cause Carrie deserves better<33

Male! Carrie White x Supernatural S/o

My Stories are meant for the much more mature audience, 18+

Imagine young Johnny Depp with dirty blonde hair for the male Carrie (Or someone else if you would like.)

Backstory: You're a transfer student, to this school and see a boy getting bullied, but you notice something remakable about him, and you can't help but take an interest.

Carey, let out a sigh, as he traced the bruise along his wrist, his father was much rougher than the usual.

"Hey! Boner boy, cmere!" Chris Hargensen called out with a chuckle, recalling Carey's embarrassing moment in the locker room, and when Carey got his first-ever boner which freaked him out. Carey held his head down afraid to meet the gaze of his tormentor.

Sitting from afar, you looked on at the scene in curiosity, why wasn't anyone helping the guy? He was clearly getting bullied, by some asshat and his fellow 'gang'.

As you were about to get up and confront the guys, Carey did something unexpected, "Leave me, ALONE!" he screamed out, the trays of food around his scattering, without anything or anyone touching them.

"Nice, freaky magic trick-" Chris bit back about to throw a punch. Suddenly you muttered incoherent words, as Chris began to scream out in horror, as he saw all sorts of bugs crawl on his arms.

Everyone looked in confusion at why he was screaming as they saw nothing, happening but he began to scratch at his arms before the bugs suddenly flashed away.

"I-I- T-There---wa-s--Everywhere!" Chris couldn't make out a sentence, because he was shaken up.

Carey suddenly tilted his head towards you, to see you giving a warm smile. Carey quickly rushed away, making sure to sling his bag around his arm.

<<>><>><>><<>>><<>><<<>>>><<<>>><<<>>><<<>>>><<>>><<>>><<>>><>

Splashing his face with water, Carey let out a deep sigh of relief after he got away from all prying eyes. He looked in front of the mirror, before squinting his eyes and remembering the locker room incident.

The mirror suddenly cracked, making him fall backward on his butt. "Are you alright?" You asked looking down at the guy.

"I-I didn't-....didn't do that-..." Carey spoke unsure of what he was even saying. "It's alright...I understand.." You trailed off, helping Carey up as he looked at your hand with a blush, before quickly taking it. Carey felt his legs wobble as he was about to fall again before you pulled him into his chest.

You patted his soft hair trying to comfort him, making him a spluttering shy mess, "I-I- My...father- says, I'm not....suppose to get---To-to close to a guy- b-because its a sin!" Carey cried out, not wanting ever for his father to find out he hugged a guy, even though it felt nice.

"Does, your father...hit you because of these...'sins'." You asked noticing, the bruise on his collar bone, because of his disheveled shirt.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't ask such personal things..." You spoke gently noticing how hesitant he was.

"But, I really ment it when I said I understand...May I see your wrist?" You asked out, as he shakily handed you his bruised wrist.

Your big hand traced his bruise before muttering a small spell. The bruise suddenly vanished and healed.

Carey looked at his wrist and then you with interest as he gave a small smile, knowing that he wasn't truly alone with having strange gifts.

"Thank...you." He mumbled out, his stutter slightly calming down.

<<>><>><>><<>>><<>><<<>>>><<<>>><<<>>><<<>>>><<>>><<>>><<>>><>

Over the past months, you have been showing Carey more spells, and healing him a lot recently, both of you growing closer and closer.

However, you couldn't fathom how a father like Carey's would hurt him to such an extent all for what, region? It pained you to see him like that, but you did manage to deal with his bullies...or so you thought.

Today was prom day, Carey was the one who asked you, much to your immense surprise.

"And prom king- is- Carey white!" The lady spoke with a smile, you looked around, in confusion, this was strange, no one truly hung out with Carey or wanted to be his friend except you...

"Don't." You spoke to Carey as he was about to go onto the stage, You pulled him close into your arms as you peered down at him, "Why..?" He slowly spoke not knowing the suspicion you had.

"It's just too strange..." You gently whispered in his ear as he clung close to you.

You held him in your arms, not intending to let him go, "Ok..." He responded trusting you as his heart began to beat loudly.

"Kiss me.." Carey slowly muttered overcoming his silence. You pulled him into a gentle kiss.

"I don't wanna go home," Carey nearly cried in your chest, tired of hiding his love for you, tired of getting hit by his father because of his love for you.

"Home is the place where you are loved and welcome, so your coming home with me." A smile stretched on your face as he hugged you tightly.

[dominantslasherking]

JSBSUDDH YOUR WRITING IS SO GOOD-

Can I request more male!Carrie x reader? It's such a good idea and I just love Carrie <3 thank you! It can be smut or just fluff either or I don't really mind!

Male! Carrie White Dominant Male S/o

My Stories are meant for the much more mature audience, 18+

Dark!Carrie White!

PS: I'm using 'Carey' for the male version of the name 'Carrie'

Blood splattered on your face, as Carey suddenly murdered the guy you were talking to as he was getting a bit too handsy for your liking and Carey's.

Carey gave you a soft smile as if he didn't just explode the guy's head with his mind. Carey gently caressed your face, and the blood that was once there, suddenly disappeared.

Softly bringing you into a kiss, he hung close to your chest, "Was that man bothering you?" Carey soothingly asked drawing circles on your chest with his hand knowing that you couldn't refuse his handsome smile. Sure he was manipulative, but it was for your own good really.

I mean he does make you happy, right? And you also make him happy, someone getting in the way, would...interfere with that happiness, so he took it upon himself to rid of that annoyance.

Carey tugged your hand, leaving the random section of the movie theater which was relatively empty.

"What movie should we watch?" He gently asked as both of you looked at the posters of the currently playing movies. Tilting your head slightly at the variety of selections you suddenly spoke, "Horror movie, maybe....this one?" You spoke about the movie called, 'Nightmare on Elm's Street.'

Carey's face suddenly turned into a shade of red, "I acted in that..." He suddenly spoke up to you, remembering his role as Glen. Letting out a hum you looked at him, "You did acting?" You slowly asked, Carey, nodding his head, "It wasn't for me..." He muttered holding closely onto you,

"Well, Well, who do we have here?!" An annoying voice perked up, Carey and you suddenly turned your head to meet a fellow college student, that loved to cause trouble.

However he and Carey never really interacted much, Neither have you. "You're the quiet dip-shit in our class...really boring honestly, and you-" The guys head turned towards you letting out a low purr, "Well, you are just a handsome thing, If I was gay I would be jumping all over you-" The guy suddenly shut up as he started to bleed from his nose profusely.

"Ah- What the fuck--" The guy began to gag, as blood spewed out of his mouth.

Carey let out a low chuckle causing the guy to look at him baffled, "Are you choking on something?" Carey asked as the guy began to choke on his own blood until he dropped to the floor.

Random people in the theater cause a panic some screaming, others trying to help. "C-Call the police!" A random lady screamed out.

Carey's gaze rested on you, "Can I have a kiss?" He asked, "Of course," Bringing him into a gentle kiss, as he giddily moved around trying to control himself.

To be honest, you aren't really afraid of Carey at all, knowing that he would do anything for you.

I mean it was rather, partly your fault for him digging deeper into his 'dark' side. Let's just say you are not so innocent yourself.

You laughed into Carey's kiss, as your eyes gleamed a shade of black.