#please ignore that I'm already dying in shame

[missanne]

The great war- chapther 7: style

Yn's heart was agitated that morning, and the reason was her first day of class, despite being at a college in another country she still felt like a teenager accompanied by loneliness, her first days in that country were also similar to what I hoped to forget: she had been kidnapped and even if she hadn't been subjected to physical torture, the words spoken at those times were like worms in fertile soil, and even if she tried to avoid them, they always came back and tormented her mind. She woke up suddenly when a knock on the door followed by shoko (she made a mental note that for the first time in her life, she had made real friends and how good that was) her roommate came in with breakfast: _ good morning star! Here's a special breakfast!

yn's voice was hoarse from hours of sleep, even so, she tried to sound hopeful: _ good morning, I'm very excited for today, and you?

] _ MY GOD! You're saying what you're feeling, a miracle, I mean… — the girl with brown hair had realized that she wasn't much for talking about what was going on inside her mind, and after a long conversation about communication, it was promised that the two would talk about what they were feeling, no matter the situation, Shoko thought it would take her a while to start talking, so her surprise was evident. Between laughs, the girls drank the beauty juice they had researched before bed and the omelet.

Upon entering the campus, some looked at the newcomer, as in addition to the color red they stood out on a black campus, her company was none other than Shoko, one of the best students at the college if not the province.

Those who missed that day had a huge regret: it was rare for foreign students to pass the exams, they were always below or average for admission. Therefore, it was the news of the semester, but what happened next left everyone with an immense thirst to meet the new girl, who at that point had only lost her prescription glasses, and while she was looking in her bag, a tall figure with black hair White people approached and with a strangely sly voice said: Ah, how are you my dear, wow, you're wearing that perfume…

_ oh, not today satoru, I'm busy…

_Ah, yes, I see, are you worrying about that? — He points silver glasses up.

_did you catch him?

_yes, I took it to take the measurements and make one like it….

_ so that's why I'm seeing everything blurry! Please give me back!

_ no.- and after saying it, he raised them above his head and looked at her with a free laugh. At that moment, yn already had her hand on her chest, and despite her heart beating very fast, she was well-behaved, her blurred vision made her uncomfortable, and she was afraid of hitting or bumping into someone on her first day of school and passing. A tremendous shame; She gets close enough to the boy actually to confirm his identity, and asks him again: — Are you sure you won't give it back to me?

I have-then yn take it with the tip of her finger and put it on his arm and then spin it around, making him scream loudly and consequently drop his glasses: — thank you Satoru, you're the best. And she left him there, dying of shame, he had shouted so loudly that the other half of the university who weren't looking at him had to look, and those who were looking in disguise couldn't maintain their posture and tried to hide their laughter or laughter. Shoko and the boys who had arrived looked at her coming towards her with a look of pride, because in her first few seconds in Japan, the same episode had repeated itself, but with a different outcome. So their first serious conversation was:_ When he does that again, you just pinch him.

_ Serious? Won't he fight?

_ If he fights, just ignore it.

Despite feeling bad because he had saved her from a horrible situation, she felt that, deep down, he wouldn't care. The spectators were shocked by Yn's “resistance” to gojo, after all, regardless of gender, everyone was into him and there was even a rumor that if you talked to him or geto and ended up without at least having a crush on both of them, you wouldn't, you would meet no one else in your life. But there was the foreigner not only resisting the gojo but going against her will, so even though in silence everyone wanted to know a little more about her, after all, who would be the mortal capable of such audacity? This spread like a match in alcohol, not only the first period, but the second as well, Shoko noticed this, but the rest is another story.

#jjk #jjk gojo #jjk x reader #jjk imagines #jjk fanfic #jjk fluff #jjk fanfiction

[itevilhag]

seperate ways (worlds apart) | dream of the endless x reader.

pairing: dream of the endless x platonic!f!reader / friends to lovers, dream of the endless x f!reader

wordcount: 1.1k!

warning: ANGST. major character death. maybe slight (?) ooc Dream?

summary: Dream spends time with a dying friend.

.

.

"Do you wanna hear a joke?” she asked as a playful smile bloomed on her lips, breaking the silence that settled between them as they sat side by side, their shoulders touching under her willow tree.

Dream was silent for a second, contemplating whether or not he should surrender to his friend's amusement or to continue to lament about what was to come.

After some time of thinking, Dream turned to her and answered unenthusiastically, which she chose to ignore.

"I suppose. Why not?" 

Her smile grew wider.

"So, a blind man walks into a pub, and a chair, and a table…" her voice trailed, waiting for the anticipated smile even if it’s just from how stupid or dumb her joke is, but nothing happened. Dream’s face remained impassive as ever. His brow quirked in a manner that expressed nothing but confusion.

Her smile deflates a little, but nonetheless, still remains hopeful. "...you know? Because he's-"

Though Dream found the joke a bit amusing, he still couldn’t bring himself to reciprocate any of her playfulness or attempts to brighten up his mood. 

She sat there with her mouth hanging open before feigning offense by lightly smacking his arm due to his lack of reaction to her excellent joke. “Oh, come on, that was funny!" 

Dream remained impassive and instead chose to invest his full attention towards the ground where white carnations had started to grow around them. He never wanted to ignore her or make her feel anything of the sort, but seeing that sickening sweet smile of hers only further reminded him of what he was about to lose. 

And all she could do was sigh in defeat and lightly nodded her head in understanding.

"You know, Dream, for someone who is literally an immortal being, you're way more concerned about Death than I am- and she's literally your sister!" 

That only earned her a hard glare from Dream, but not one filled with malice or annoyance, but one filled with well-hidden dread, pain, and sadness. 

She smiled softly, pleading with him. "Oh, Dream, loosen up a little, won't you? Laugh, smile! It's my last day. I don't want it to be gloomy." 

"Exactly. How can I smile when my best friend is about to be taken away from me?" he lamented, a pang of grief striking his heart like lightning. 

"Oh, please." she lightly rolled her eyes. "We both knew this was coming." 

"That doesn't make us any more ready for it." Dream snapped, his anger so fierce she could feel it radiating through his coat and transferring onto her.

Dream’s voice softened. "I just wish we had more time. Together." 

Dream took her hands in his, his voice breaking into painful cries, his head turned down in shame.

"I'm sorry, I am truly sorry. I wasn't there when you needed me. It was never my intention to leave you all alone."

To say that her heart was shattering into a million pieces seeing Dream fall apart in front of her because of something he had not done, or something he was not at fault for, was an understatement. 

"Oh, Dream, it's alright.” she took her hand from his, placing her finger underneath his chin. She titled his head up to meet hers. She smiled softly.

“She told me what happened." Dream’s face contorted in confusion, then recognition. 

Death.

"It's okay, and even if you weren't-" she paused thinking on the words she was about to say as she recalled what Death had told her about her brother’s imprisonment, how a man intended to capture her to ask for the life of someone taken away too soon. Her friend was already in enough pain. She wasn’t going to bury the knife deeper than it already was. She chose not to utter them.

"You probably wouldn't have been able to be here with me physically anyway. Because you have more important duties to attend to than spending time with a dying mortal, and that's okay because, in the end, I wasn't alone. I was never alone. Because you're always there in my dreams, holding my hand. And now, you're here, and that's all that matters." The smile on her face was kind and comforting, the kind of smile that brought one to his own, even if it was just faint.

Wiping the stray tears that had unnoticedly fallen to both Dream’s and her face, she finally sighed in contentment. Holding on to his hand like a lifeline, she rested her head on his shoulder, enjoying the company of a friend with all the time she had left. 

"I wish we had more time too,” she chuckled wetly.

“But just because our time was short doesn't make any of the days I spent with you any less wonderful.” she turned her head to look up at him, her voice full of gratitude as she said so. “So, thank you, Dream, for being my best friend and for being here, until the end." 

A small smile adorned Dream’s lips. "And I thank you, Y/N, for being mine." he lifted her hand up to his lips and planted a delicate kiss onto it.

Without saying a word, her body collided with his as she tightly wrapped her arms around him. It took Dream a few seconds to recover from the sheer force of her embrace, but nonetheless, reciprocated the gesture of affection in return. 

With his hand behind her head and his other on her waist, holding her tightly to his chest. He pressed a soft kiss on her hair. "I will miss you terribly, Y/N." 

She sniffled as she smiled against his shoulder. "I'll miss you too."

They held each other for so long that even when their arms started to hurt from how tightly embracing one another, they did not let go. But a change in the air made Dream rigid. 

A woman with dark skin and such ethereal beauty appeared behind Dream, and something about her kind smile and her alluring presence already told her that it was time. Her time.

"Hello, Y/N." Death offered her hand towards her. "Time to go, hon." 

Y/N was ready to let go, to finally surrender her life to Death, but Dream kept her firmly against his chest, refusing to let go. "I don't want you to go." 

"I have to, Dream, she's here." she whispered against his ear while her hand drew comforting circles on his back. "You'll be alright." her voice so firm, that the words she uttered next etched themselves on the walls of his mind, and his heart. "Promise me, you'll be alright." 

"I will. I will be alright." 

Death smiled at that. 

"I love you." Dream uttered, as he felt her body slowly going limp against him. 

"I'll see you in your dreams, love." with a final kiss on his cheek, she took Death's hands.

And as Dream's eyes fluttered shut, all he could hear the mighty beating of her wings. 

...

#dream of the endless x reader #morpheus/dream x reader #morpheus x y/n #the sandman x reader #dream of the endless #dream x reader #dream sandman #tv: the sandman #the sandman netflix

[esther-dot]

I'm not even a Jon fan in particular, but as a Sansa and Dorne stan, Kit making twitter Targ stans lose what little was left of their pea-sized minds has been most pleasing to me. They really shouldn't have talked all that shit and karma is just coming back to bite as it always does with that fandom. I hope the Snow announcement comes soon and I hope we at least get a Sansa cameo in the show. However, if Kit is going to have his man pain over killing a genocidal tyrant be a main point in the show he can keep it lmao.

(Context: “Targ nation” was tweeting out revenge porn of Kit and making fun of his addiction and saying all sorts of horrible things about him and his wife after he recently defended Jon killing Dany. He used a lot of mitigating language, said he wished the characters had more time together, talked about how close his wife and Emilia are, but they were incensed.)

I try not to care too much about interviews because actors contradict themselves all the time. Kit said post s8 that supporting Dany made you “complicit” which means it’s possible he thinks that Jon was complicit too, that he might deal with that in the sequel, and that his show won’t glamorize Dany. So, I can simply take everything he says in interviews in the lead-up to his show as him trying not to estrange fans. Maybe Dany stans should be happy he still thinks they’re a gettable audience or he might be saying worse? 🤷🏻‍♀️

I mentioned the other day that I would enjoy a chance for Jon to deal with his trauma from dying, finding out about his parents, the wars he was involved in…I mean, there is a lot of stuff I would love for them to dig into which GoT totally neglected, but, grieving for a mass murderer is definitely not something I’m up for. Obviously, we don’t know for sure that’s where he’d take things, but there were quotes that seemed to point there. Or at least, that he thinks there’s still some question about the ethics of killing Dany. He said Ned wouldn’t approve since he didn’t approve of Jaime killing Aerys, but that ignores one tiny little detail. Ned didn’t know what Aerys wanted to do to KL, but Dany had already burned KL when Jon killed her. That kinda removes any moral ambiguity?

Furthermore, whatever code of honor Ned espoused and wanted to live by, he committed treason, betrayed his best friend and king, to protect an innocent life—Jon’s. To act like he would disapprove of Jon taking action to save thousands upon thousands of children, to save Winterfell, Ned’s daughters, to save Sansa, well, that’s just silly. I’m not saying he wouldn’t feel shame, Jon carries a lot of shame, but we can feel bad about having to take certain actions even if it is unequivocally the right thing to do. Not every choice is easy, and that’s certainly something Martin loves to explore. That could have been what Kit was trying to get at, who knows.

Anyway, I’m not sure which moral paradigm the sequel will be written from, and I’m not really looking forward to finding out 😂

#dot chat #jon show #< tag to filter

[humanitys-strongest-bamf]

Hi, I’d like a Drabble Prompt please. A number 26? Could I get it without x Reader? Thanks.

(Side note: if you’d rather do x Reader then that’s cool but recently the ol’ moots and I have been trying to get out of our comfort zones, so will leave that one entirely up to you!)

i'm not gonna lie, i really struggled trying to conceptualize this without the reader insert context. i hope this is somewhat aligned with what you were looking for!

come hang out with me in this drabble challenge!

word count: 429

notes: post-war!levi, mostly exposition, levi's POV, my attempt at dismantling ableism, my headcanon that he got his leg amputated and replaced

He felt like something was getting stuck in his throat every time he looked at himself. The image he saw in the mirror didn't feel right. It didn't match up with how he imagined himself. Even while ignoring his mangled hand and dysfunctional leg, he couldn't look at himself without fixating on the two scars running down the right side of his face and his clouded right eye.

While he was grateful that peace seemed to be the current state of the world, he'd be lying if he said that he didn't envy some of the life he had before the war and before their discovery of Marley.

His struggles have completely shifted in nature. He no longer had to worry about being consumed by Titans. He no longer worried about his comrades dying—they were already dead. Now his struggles gave him nothing but shame. He struggled with basic, trivial things that he never would have batted an eye over.

He struggled brewing tea due to missing almost half the fingers on his right hand. At the very least, he had yet to brew it to his own standards and anything store-bought was repulsive.

Having a prosthetic leg made it difficult for him to walk. At the very least, walking was different. If he hadn't bothered to replace his damaged leg, he wouldn't be able to walk at all. He hated all of it.

He struggled reacting to things around him as quickly. Missing an eye undoubtedly affected his ability to perceive the environment around him.

He couldn't trust his instincts. Any reflexive knee-jerk reactions that involved fast movement still shot a surge of pain through his body. He was still healing. It was taking too long. He was over it.

Being Humanity's Strongest Soldier™ felt like a foreign dream that was rapidly slipping away, yet he couldn't get away from it. He felt like he was trapped in limbo between life before the war and the life he's been trying to live after the war.

Levi sighed and forced himself to look into the mirror. His struggles were difficult—that was undeniable—but he began repeating to himself that he was different, but in no way deficient. Although he struggled with something as trivial as brewing tea, or something as seemingly simple as walking, it didn't mean that he was any less. He knew it was going to be a long journey, but he renewed his resolve to gravitate towards self-acceptance.

He took a deep breath as he gazed into his own reflection.

"You're perfect just the way you are."

#hope this was satisfactory! #drabble challenge #kats oneshots #levi ackerman #levi ackermann #levi heichou

[s1lentlamb]

 ‘ i thought we agreed to wait until we got home to do this . . ’ 

 waiting is a concept made for weaker people , ones that own nothing . NOT FOR GOJO SATORU , who's apparently free to do whatever he pleases even on their way home . ever since suguru came to jujutsu school to teach , and probably after a few days of awkward silence and small gestures , longing stares , dying to touch his hand . gojo suggested they get themselves an apartment near the temple ( as close as possible anyway – ) , because he had little sense of shame , couldn't keep it quiet , couldn't wait for the students to leave the dorms or sleep before he pinned suguru on a surface . and his excuses would often change , ' you looked nice in that turtleneck ' , ' had to give you a reason to shower , no ? ' , ' i missed your voice while you were asleep . '

 thick trees decorate their way , walking home , talking and talking . until something about geto's loose strand of hair catches his eye , makes him stare at it for a little bit longer until he is gripping his arm to shove him off-road . against a tree , ignoring suguru's words . ❛ why ? think i can't – ❜ leaning in , to whisper the rest in his ear . ❛ hold you up against this tree while i fuck your brains out , suguru ? ❜ teeth catch an already bruised patch of flesh on his neck . merciless when it comes to the enormity of his limitless desire . SADLY , geto won't be able to come to the temple tomorrow or if he did , walk freely . for some reason , he looked even more beautiful when he was disheveled and trying to hide the bruises on his neck . as satoru promised , in the dead of the night and through the trees that'll hopefully veil their unholiness , suguru is hoisted up against the wooden surface with gojo's hands under his thighs . an eager mouth raking down his neck , dragging up to catch his lips after biting his chin . the blindfolds stay on , unfortunately gojo doesn't trust the environment enough , not when he is so vulnerable ( * railing his lover against the tree , letting mother nature witness his hunger — ) . he can take them off when they get home .

 ❛ you okay ? ❜ it's not mocking , it's genuine . he's not that kind of asshole after all , not when he's thrusting inside the man , creamy thighs around his waist , grunting as he picks up his pace . he'd drag this out until morning came but he doubts this road will be empty until then . not that it'll bother him , it'll certainly push geto's buttons . pushing , groaning out a soft praise as he pulls away only an inch to gaze into suguru's dark eyes . the all watchful six eyes , cursed energy be damned , satoru can make him feel more just by pounding inside him like an animal — he catches geto's gasps on his tongue , lets a grin stretch upon lips as he purrs out a petname . THEY OFTEN IRRITATE HIM , and gojo loves it when he glares .

 it ends with a long groan drawled out of the strongest , a few clumsy thrusts follow to ride off his high as his breaths turn uneven . he takes a few seconds to pant against geto's shoulder , to come back to his senses . huffing out soft chuckles , before he pulls away to pull his pants up ; and not forget about his lover either . long fingers clutch oversized trousers , buttoning them up around suguru's thin waist , before tapping on his tummy with a sweet grin . ❛ i think i ruined them by the way . maybe it'll stop you from wearing them . ❜ every insult that tears off of his heart , and aims for suguru's nerves , even though he doubts he'll get any remark back with how out of breath he is . and just when he's done fixing geto's clothes , a car passes by them , which only adds to gojo's already wide grin . he wraps an arm around slightly shorter man's shoulders and pecks his temple .

 ❛ let's go . i'm not done with you yet . ❜

    —  accepting.

#jusoshi #GOJO ; int. #usfw #lemon #... the strongest and also the h*rniest . sorry .

[boldlygowhereitsbiggerinside]

Hey so I wrote about something incredibly personal, and I want to share it but don't have a good place to do so. So I'm going to do it here under the cut. Please feel free to keep on scrolling and trigger warning for depression and an attempt of suicide!

This is the true story of how I lived 🙂

The Story of How I Lived

It was Spring 2021, and I was feeling pretty depressed so Nathan (my spouse) suggested we go to the movies. We loved going to the movies so much we had that AMC movie pass that let you see three movies a week for $20.

We decided to see Chaos Walking. I was already feeling a little better just being out of the house. I handed Nathan my phone and my wallet when we were instructed to turn off all of our devices as they tended to fall out of my pockets. The movie was fairly engaging, and I was able to forget my troubles somewhat. There was a small, cute dog in the movie that reminded me of my own. I was trying to prepare myself for the dog dying some sort of tragic, but heroic, death. That is not what happens though. The villain grabs the dog and drowns it purely out of cold-blooded spite.

I'd had it. Life is awful and so is everything else. I stood up, took my phone from Nathan, and told him I'd wait for him outside. I heard someone chuckle at me as I left, but I truly didn't care at that point.

I went outside by the back exit we always take as it is closer to our car. As soon as the door closed behind me, I began a dark, dangerous spiral. I sat on the cement steps and failed to hold back tears.

I couldn't sit in the car or even drive anywhere as Nathan had the keys.

I couldn't walk far as I had a boot on my foot from a stress fracture.

I couldn't call Nathan as he always turns his phone off at the movies.

I couldn't go back in the exit as the door locks behind you.

I couldn't go back in the entrance as I didn't have my wallet and they required photo identification with our movie pass plus my ticket had already been scanned.

This was it. There was nothing left to do. It was time to die. Finally.

I didn't want to be alone, so I called my mom. I did feel a bit selfish for making her go through this with me, but what did it matter? I was going to be dead in a few minutes anyway. And she was my mom. She'd understand.

As I spoke to my mom I looked around for something to end my life with. She begged me to tell her where I was, but I honestly didn't know. I was in the back parking lot of an AMC near my house. That's all I've got. There was no one around and there was no chance she could come get me. She lived too far away. There was also no way she was going to be able to locate me and get an ambulance here in time. I spied a pointy rock and drew my finger along the edge to test its sharpness.

Not sharp enough.

A couple came out of the door, but I knew I wouldn't be fast enough to catch it so I just hid my face in shame until they'd gone. They didn't seem to notice me much at all. They certainly had no idea I was about to take my own life.

My mom continued to beg me not to do whatever it was I was planning to do. I apologized but made no effort to stop. I spied a discarded Sprite can. Now I have cut myself on a soda can on accident before. Surely that would work!

I took the rock and used it to cut open the can, revealing a sharp, jagged edge. I took a few steadying breaths. I had to make sure this worked. I would cut a long, vertical line down my left arm. None of this slitting my wrist horizontally nonsense. I wanted to bleed as much and as fast as possible. I had to make sure the cut was deep. It was probably going to hurt, but if it wasn't deep enough, I might live. And who knows what was on this nasty, old can. I definitely didn't want to live and lose my arm to infection.

As I prepared myself mentally to ignore the pain I was about to inflict, someone else came out the door. I would have to wait until they left. Can't have a random stranger stopping me now can I? It shouldn't take long though. The parking lot was obscured by the building a bit. They'd only have to walk for a few seconds until I'd be alone enough again. I'd just make sure to be quiet in case they can hear me from over there. The person stopped next to me.

It was Nathan.

Nathan whose phone was off.

I knew that he sure as hell wasn't going to just stand there while I went through with my plan. He'd either physically stop me or call an ambulance in plenty of time. I certainly didn't need or want the amount of attention that would bring. I handed him my phone in defeat, and he talked to my mom. He assured her I was safe and he'd take me to get professional help. I went willingly to what would be my third 72 hour psych hold.

It turns out that at the exact moment Nathan went to turn off his phone, I handed him mine, interrupting his automatic action and causing him to put both phones in his pocket without turning his off. Unbeknownst to me, my mom had her husband call Nathan while she kept me talking to her.

And by that total fluke, I am alive today.

#tw: depression #tw: suidice #depression #suicide #im better now

[theold-ultraviolence]

bestie,

sorry for disappearing, again! I might have been ignoring my duties for this entire time, comprehended being active here. I also honestly didn't have much to say and I am always worried of being annoyed!

first of all: I don't know why but I wanted to say that I low key think that aemond might wear 'hero' by Burberry as a more everyday fragrance (like he has his own for special occasions) and this isn't just because I utterly enjoy it and it has a subtle tone.

(me now smelling the male perfumes to find aemond's own? more unhingedly likely than you might think).

secondly: oh gods, that whole ask about religious guilt in aemond. as a fellow person who feels it, my own take is that it'd impact - even more in canon - his own view on sexual life. like he has already had a whole traumatizing experience, but also imagine being taught to perceive the act as somehow just reproductive per se. like he can see that his parents don't have any desire and aegon's own appetites are just disgusting to him. I don't know... I just think that he'd struggle with intimacy and with truly feeling like he even deserves pleasure (and not only in a strictly sexual setting).

finally: oh gods THE THOUGHT OF HIM BEING WITH YOU ON DAILY TASKS... I... alright, again: I hate clingy couples, but also as your average anxious girlie, to have him by my side, I'd be... blushing and twirling my hair. also this bestie - even more as a museum curator - would be always busy so when you get some time together. he is attached to your own ass and not in an oppressive way, he is just there if you need him.

need somebody to hold your purse while you tie your shoes? he is there.

need to tell the waiter that they got your order wrong and you can't have it because you have a food allergy? he is already calling the waiter over and assuring you that you told him (is this very specific and self-indulgent? yeah).

need a kiss of encouragement and some reassuring about your body while shopping? he is your man.

ok, feeling fuzzy inside and I think that you look very Victorian De Angelis-coded with your new look by the way! I am also low key thinking of getting curtain bangs, as well, when I go back to dying them (time to go back to being a full on ginger) but I shall hear what the hairdresser says as the time I asked he warded me off as my bangs were too short, ugh. we shall see. but you are definitely rocking them!

have a lovely day!

-🌗

HELLO BESTIE! omg don't apologize, please! I totally understand. But rest assured you're never annoying, and I'm always super happy to receive messages from you!

BEFORE I FORGET, I've been listening to Manuel Agnelli and I LOVE HIM! I still have to go through the rest of your recs (listening to new music is such a slow process for me). But I really loved his music! He kinda gave me some Danny Elfman in his Big Mess album vibes so that was an instant love for me.

Now onto Aemond, aaaaah I haven't gotten a chance to smell 'Hero' but I just know it must be amazing simply because Adam Driver did the campaign lmao!! But re: religious guilt. OH FOR SURE. Obviously, we all love to write him as a sex god in fanfic but taking his circumstance into consideration, he really hasn't got any healthy examples of sexuality around him. If anything, if he wanted to seek out some answers for himself in books and such, I imagine he'd feel guilty for even being interested in it. I remember being super young when I first started thinking about sex and being curious about porn and always felt like, watched. I seriously felt like all my ancestors were suddenly watching over me in shame LMAO, which was so awkward! and something very difficult to shake off. So it's exactly what I think must be going through Aemond's mind in that scenario.

And on lighter subjects...ahhhh yes yes yes!!! telling the waiter of your allergies and him assuring you when going shopping aaaaaaaaaaah my heart! for sure, we discussed clingy couples before but I think this is totally different! this is, wanting to be with the person, not feeling like you NEED to be with them. That thought about him waiting for you while you do your errands is totally based on me going to get a haircut and imagining Aemond waiting for me in the salon, in his own little corner with a book, and being all happy and hyping me up after seeing the new 'do aljflksjglkjg. Self-indulgence to the max honestly. But I need me a freak like that. The whole domestic of it all? I'm WEAK.

And on that note, AHHHH thank you so much!!! that is exactly what I was hoping to go for so I'm over the moon with your compliment! ngl I'm still getting used to the bangs because I haven't had them since I was a kid lmao! but the change was such a mood lifter and I'd definitely encourage you if you're also hoping to go for a change in hairstyle! Thank you sooo, so much!! <33333333

Hope you have a lovely start to your week, my dear! x

#🌗

[aethesfaelibrarae]

In the graveyard of unfinished and untimely end, not abandoned—

Never abandoned. Just waiting, just gasping

Thoughts, projects and works, I find the child that I shot dead has fallen to pieces.

Her eyes look like mine and the bile building in my chest and throat must be hers too but her tears are not mine.

But they are, and I cannot weep for the dead.

But they are, and the dead cannot weep for me.

It's 3 AM and the dead does not sleep—the dead shouldn't have to work either, in my opinion—but the dead is filled with bile and love, and aches with each breath.

A hole-y mass(acre) of an existence, I guess but the Child's eyes have a spark that I don't recognize and it angers me.

It angers and frightens me with each passing moment because I know that I'm happier than she was.

I should be.

I have more than she ever did—I am loved, I am heard, I am needed, and necessary, and good and brilliant and loved and alive and loved and I'm OK I'm OK I'm okay I'm okay I'm okay—

And yet I trace my fingers along the titles—The Body Keeps Score, What Happened to You?, It wasn't Your Fault, Reasons to Stay Alive—and I long for the meaning of it.

I ache with empty futile longing. I am too proud to beg a God who factored me into His plans but did not consider that He had not factored this unbearable ache that he'd give me for death.

I cannot bear to call His name without answer again.

If I am to be one of His strongest, so be it. My friends won't forgive me if I am not. My love won't accept otherwise.

So I am strong. So very strong and though each breath rattles and shakes, covered in blood of things I no longer remember, I am strong.

I look back at the Child and the Child shrugs back at me. I am not sure if I am angry or pitying her, us really.

I call her a Child but no one else will. And that's a shame.

I don't really remember killing her right. Maybe we drowned together—thrashing and screaming as we went? Nails in skin and oxygen gone through bloodshot eyes?

It'd explain the fascination and fear of water.

Maybe I just strangled her? My throat is tight enough to be residual guilt, I suppose..

But the Child can't confirm what she was a victim of. Half-remembered photographs and erased notebooks litter her mausoleum.

And I pity and hate her for it.

A child with no childhood, a youth without it–empty, empty words that falter at the existence.

She is not me, I am not her and yet neither of us can remember what it's like to be the other.

We live in the present, but exist in between—profound paradoxes or perhaps just bougie ghosts.

What does it mean to hope? What does it mean to forgive and forget if you're constantly forgetting and it's only making it worse?

Spite has permeated into every crevice of the system and I have run out of it; as it turns out while Love is a not a limited resource, just a costly investment, Spite absolutely is when it's used a supplement to Hope.

So to answer the first question, I think it's something you run out of and still keep going in spite of it. Spite the lack of it, don't spite Hope itself.

How do I keep going sometimes is not because I'm strong or willing, it's because I quite simply can't bring myself to stop.

To jump. To plunge. I attempt it and then this rushing sense of disgust and guilt—all the things that I am right now, I'll be forever and it'll be all over the floor.

And what if I do something embarrassing before I do? Like what would I say if someone else needed to use the bathroom and I've already slit my throat?

What is the proper etiquette? Do I open the door slightly, covering the arterial spray and if I haven't cut deep enough to sever my vocal cords, apologize for the mess?

Do I just listen to them bang on the door until the blood loss mercifully lets me ignore it?

No. I refuse. My social anxiety refuses to cause a fuss about dying. If I must die, please I'm begging You let me die in my sleep.

In the few hours I get to.

Let me just stop.

If I open my eyes again later, I, both grateful and deeply, deeply sad, will simply get on with the day and let the silent screaming in my chest get worse.

Maybe it'll give me a heartattack.

The Child stares up at me and I sigh.

I'm supposed to be re-parenting her, fixing her up so that she'll stop haunting me.

But it's not like she talks. There's neither encouragement or disappointment beyond the grave—just silent acceptance.

She was always the kinder one of us—the one who hoped and loved and I hate her for it.

I miss that part.

Every time I say that I had faith in my friends, it's her fault—it's my fault—and it's the wrong thing to say.

But I don't her to die. She's already dead.

I wish it were me, and I wish she was here but isn't she?

I don't know. I wish I could tell.

In the graveyard of half-finished and neglected children and projects, I stand there next to a ghost that may or may not exist and I wonder how to begin.

(i will not abandon the vigil of creation but it weighs heavily on my shoulders some days.)

#writeblr #creative writing #writing #i wrote this instead of sleeping #i write sometimes

[fisheem4mmal]

Dorm Leaders master chef event and a tiny Jamil!

#twst #twisted wonderland #oh dear I'm gonna have to tag them all #Malleus Draconia #Leona Kingscholar #Vil Schoenheit #Idia Shroud #Azul Ashengrotto #Riddle Rosehearts #Jamil Viper #Kalim Al-Asim #I posted this on twitter #but I forgot Leona's scar on that one so #end me #please ignore that I'm already dying in shame

[chronomally]

Li Sheng kicking Hu Tianying's medicine away and then watching dispassionately as she crawls across the dock to retrieve it, all while telling her that Shen Tianshu sacrificed her to save himself, is THE coldest shit I've ever seen

#please feel free to ignore this #I'm watching Legend of Fei #All after he tells her she's not even worth killing because she's so pathetic and it would only shame him #She's already dying Li Sheng

[suicidalslasher]

𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒍𝒚 𝒎𝒂𝒅𝒍𝒚 𝒅𝒆𝒆𝒑𝒍𝒚 ➤ 𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒕𝒆

Here's one of three Carrie White fics!! :D This is honestly short and sweet, plus simple... compared to the other two. But.... it's here and I'm very much happy with the way it came out. I hope you all enjoy it, as well.

Although, the gif is of Sissy, you can pretend it's either version of Carrie.

(Chloe or Angela's. I, personally, just prefer Sissy's. Although, I love all three.) And despite it being Sissy, too, I took inspiration from the (2002) adaption with Angela whereas Carrie never died in the accident of her house.

Instead, she lives and runs away. And yadda yadda. Enjoy!! xx

Warnings: None. Unless you count fluff and love confessions UwU.

“I know she was your friend but c’mon, (Y/N). She was nothing more than a piece of shit… Grow up. Move on.”

“She was a monster, (Y/N). Do you really think she wasn’t? After all she had done? She destroyed everything and hurt so many people… she killed several hundred people, too… if that isn’t a cruel, heartless bitch, I don’t know who or what is.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re just like her…. are you a demon in disguise, too, (Y/N)?”

They said the same exact thing. The statements were always said by different people but the topic of the subject remained the same - Carrie White.   Carrie White was the devil. So on and so forth…

It was a constant reminder she no longer was here with us - with me.  

 The tragedy that struck on prom  night wasn’t my fault. Nor, was it Carrie’s.

Carrie had so much anger built up within her, she was bound to explode with rage eventually. And that day just so happened to unravel at the dance. All thanks to the students (and some teachers) of Bates High.

They constantly bullied Carrie for no real given reason, they harassed her for things she couldn’t quite control, either.  Not me, though.

I’m not crazy, even if there are people that  say I am and even if there are those that put words in my mouth I never said to begin with, too -

It’s not true.

None of it is true.

Everything you’ve read about Carrie White is false. Everything you’ve, more than likely, heard about her is furthest from the truth, also.

She’s not a monster. She never was one. She was just an ordinary girl, begging to be loved,  to be happy. And I loved her.

I just… I wish more than anything she realized how much I loved her.  I was in love with Carrie White, truly, madly, deeply…. in love with her.

And nobody could ever change how I felt - how I feel - towards her.

The night I was going to confess my feelings, believe it or not, was before the dance. Before everything happened.

The moment I arrived to the dance, well…by then, it was too late.   I hadn’t known it yet but almost everyone  was trapped inside the gymnasium, nails digging through the doors as they tried - and failed - to escape.

Their blood curling whines and agonizing moans were silenced by the music that played out on the speakers which echoed outside of the windows and bounced back and forth from the building to the parking lot.

I didn’t realize something terrible had happened until I smelled an intoxicating scent that caused my eyes to blur over with tears and caused me to grimace as the odor only grew stronger, thicker.

I winced and gazed around the parking lot which still remained full of different colored vehicles.     Confusion struck but after a moment or two later, realization hit like a ton of bricks.

From where I had stood, I saw a huge  cloud of gray smoke lingering around the building, only growing more and more thicker in the sky.

When I first arrived, the sky was crystal clear.  Not a single   speck of white was seen from above.   Now, that beautiful shade of blue was replaced with dark and haunting clouds of gray.

Even the moon was no longer hanging in the air for the smoke had it hidden.

The odor that swarmed the air, I realized, was people’s flesh burning.   One by one, people within the school were dying and suffocating to death.

Call me whatever you wish, as I’ve been called every name in the book, but I mean it when I say that I could care less  about the students and teachers of Bates High. If that made me an insensitive bitch, so be it.

The only reason I even attempted to try to get inside the building was because I remembered Carrie had gone to the dance with Tommy Ross.  And I’d do anything to save her.

Expect… I couldn’t.

Every area of the school was locked. Every entrance and exit doors were shut tightly. No matter how hard I tried to open them,  the damned thing wouldn’t budge.

I even tried to go through the windows but they were shut, too. There was nothing I could do.

Nothing expect fall to the ground and bury my face in my hands as tears began to fall, one by one, a tear dropped and soaked my hands and stained my cheeks.

Everyone said prom was a night to remember… but I doubt anyone wanted to remember their prom like this.

*~*

The following week after the incident, I heard a knock at my door. Slowly making my way out of bed, I walk down my too small and narrow hallway and open the door once I’ve reached the entrance,  glancing at the  person behind the screen door.

Sue Snell stood there, hands in her pocket and a look of sadness painted across her face.

“(Y/N),” She began.  “Can…. can we talk?”

“About what?” I snarled, not caring if I came off as rude or ignorant or any other definition.  I didn’t want to talk. I wanted to sleep and never wake up. I already knew where the conversation was going and what the main subject was going to be about. And I didn’t want to hear it. I didn’t want to talk about it.

“It’s about last week…  It’s…. it’s about Carrie.”

“I already know. She’s dead, okay? She’s dead and she isn’t going to come back, you don’t have to remind me.” I go to shut the door but Sue sticks her foot out and stops me from doing so. I narrow my eyebrows at her and give her a questioning gaze.

“Please…” She but all begged. “Tonight. Meet me at her headstone, tonight, would you? Midnight. I’m being serious. Trust me on this, would you? I know you have no reason to… but please.. if not for me, for Carrie.”

“Fine. I’ll think about it. Now, I have to go.”

“(Y/N), wait-”

Before she could finish her sentence, I’m  closing the door in her face and storming back to my bedroom, falling onto my mattress with an ‘ugh’ leaving my lips.

For the past few days, I didn’t do anything expect cry and scream into my pillow.

The moment I got back under the covers and buried my face under several blankets and two of my pillows,  the tears came rushing back down.

I was surprised I still had tears left in me from all the crying I had done, truth be told.

I tried, really, I did… to be strong but it was so hard. Especially when Carrie wasn’t here to make things better.

It was so difficult to live when  the one person you kept yourself alive for is no longer around…. it’s hard to live when your heart is no longer beating.

The day Carrie White died was the day a little part of me died, too.

*~*

It was 11:50PM.

The house was eerily silent. The only noise, from where I was at in my bedroom, was the whistle of the wind and the gentle knocking of tree limbs outside on my window.

I glance at the clock by my bedside table. It now read 11:52.

I sigh and sit up, my feet touching the cold hardwood floor. I rub my hands over my face tiredly as I try to come to a decision whether or not I wanted to meet Sue at Carrie’s gravestone.

I came to the decision… yes, I should go.  After all, I wanted to make sure nobody wrote any more harsh and ruthless slurs on Carrie’s grave.

Even in death, they wouldn’t let her rest and wouldn’t stop picking on her.   Carrie should be able to rest and yet there’s hundreds of people who forbid her from doing so. It was a shame.

People say Carrie White is a monster or the daughter of the Devil himself but in reality, the only monsters are the ones  that won’t leave that poor girl alone.

"If you look in the face of evil - evil's going to look right back at you."

*~*

The time I got to the cemetery  it had just turned midnight.  As I exited out the car, it seemed as if the howl of the wind grew louder upon my arrival.

“Hello?” I call out. My voice seems loud against the empty area and I grimace; I didn’t realize how wobbly it sounded until I had spoken.

(I blamed that on all the off and on crying sessions I’ve done recently.)

“Sue? Are you there? Hello?”

Nothing.

I groan and face palm, shaking my head from side to side. I should’ve known not to come. I should have known better and yet-

“(Y/N).”

My eyes dart forward and I feel my knees begin to buckle out underneath me and all the air in my lungs is snatched away from me.

“(Y/N).” She repeats, walking toward me and gives me a wry smile. “Hi.”

“C-Carrie?” My voice shook and I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. There she was, alive, breathing and all.

And she was right in front of me.

“You… I thought you were dead.” I was speechless. I could barely form any sentences without stumbling over my words.

“That’s why I’m here,” Carrie explained, stepping closer to me.  She rests the palm of her hand across my cheek, fingers brushing over my skin and I shudder, goose bumps prickling ever so softly across my arms.

“I didn’t know how to tell you….” She continued, sighing as she moves a loose piece of hair back and out from my face, tucking it behind my ear.

“I didn’t want anyone to know but Sue found me  on the side of the road when my house collapsed… she took me under her wing and helped me out.” She informed.  Carrie looked up and gave me a shy smile, her cheeks turning a bright rosy red.

“She insisted I should tell you, too… I was wanting to tell you, regardless but… I had been so scared. I’ve been terrified recently…. and with everything that happened, I only got more scared and… well, I thought you’d be like them and laugh at me or go on and tell the world where I was at and-”

“Carrie, I love you.” I blurt, unable to stop the words from forming out my mouth.

“I’d never, in any way, hurt you. I’ve loved you for the longest time and I thought…. I thought you were dead, Carrie… and it truly felt like I lost a piece of myself, too.”

The blush on Carrie’s cheeks grows darker, deeper as she nods. Tears swell in the corner of her eyes and she laughs softly, taking her hand away from my cheek as she wipes her eyes, sniffling quietly.

“I know. Sue told me, too… and I didn’t believe her. How could anyone love a freak like me? The laughing stock? Everyone’s personal punching bag..” Carrie smiled sadly as she shook her head.

“Mama told me it was a sin, you know? Love only is shared between a man and a woman. Not two men or two women together but… I realized I’d rather burn in Hell and be with the person I love than to go to Heaven being the person I’m not. I love you, (Y/N).

“I prayed every night for a friend and you came into my life at the time I needed you the most. You’re not only my best friend but my blessing, too.” By the time she’s finished talking, I’m crying and pulling her into my chest, hugging her tightly.

“I love you, I love you, I love you.” I repeat.  “From the moment I met you in the library and we bonded over our favorite novels together at the start of school, I knew I wanted to be your friend. I could care less what others thought.

And then when we went to the park that Saturday evening and had a picnic, I knew I loved you then…. I knew that no matter what, whether we were friends or more, I always wanted to make you happy, Carrie White.”

“And you do,” she reassured, voice cracking as she buried her head in the crook between my shoulder and neck. “You make me the happiest girl alive. I’ve never known true happiness until you came into the picture, (Y/N).”

I pull a little bit of ways out and take her face, pressing my hands across her cheeks and with little to no hesitation, I press my lips hungrily against hers.

Carrie, almost instantly, kisses back.

“I love you.” I murmur into the kiss, not daring to pull away.

“I love you.” She muttered. Through the kiss, I can feel the corners of her lips curling up into a smile. A grin finds its way across my face, too.

“Let’s go… let’s get out of here.” She said, pulling back as she looks up and into my eyes. “Let’s leave Chamberlain and never look back.”

And so, well, we did.

Carrie White wasn’t your average or your typical ordinary girl. She had powers, as I came to find out. I knew there was something unique, something special about her and now I knew what it was.

Carrie White wasn’t a demon. Or the daughter of the Devil or none of that sort.

Carrie White was simply just a girl, ready to start her own life and accomplish her own goals and seek happiness.

And I, (Y/N) (L/N) would do anything to help her achieve that.

Carrie White deserved better than to live in fear and shame.

Carrie White, just like anybody else, deserved to be happy.

So, whether you believe me or not, I don’t care.

If you still think she is a monster in disguise or whatever; I do not care.

I know the truth. Sue Snell knows the truth, too. Carrie White is anything but a monster.

Carrie White is, and forever will be, my girl.

And that’s just that.

End of story.

#cierra's stories #my writing #my work #carrie x reader #carrie white x reader #carrie white x yn #carrie white x you #carrie white x fem reader #carrie white imagines #girl x girl imagines #girl x girl fics #girl x girl readers #slasher imagines #slasher fics #horror x reader

[smolla-than-a-bug]

you’re definitely flirting with me

—jason todd x villain!reader

second and final part to are you flirting with me. can be read as a stand-alone tho

navi | bat boys m.list | are you flirting with me

content — language, blood, mentions of harassment, mildly suggestive (use of the word ‘daddy’ but ironically)

notes — i know that its literally been years and that i formerly posted a part two to are you flirting with me, but looking back, i didn't like how it turned out. i did find a fun drabble in my drafts with villain!reader as well, so i decided to rewrite it and use it as a continuation. i actually deleted the old parts personally, i prefer this version of the end!

"I'm in."

"Hot. You should be able to see–"

"Nothing?"

Silence.

"Is this your way of telling me you're visually impaired?"

"I will scoop your eyes out in your sleep."

"Please use an ice cream scooper. My eyeballs would fit so well, it would be so satisfying–"

"Harper."

"Okay, okay. What do you mean nothing?"

"By nothing I mean nothing, ball sack. The warehouse is fucking empty."

Frantic rustling of papers and violent knocking of objects could be heard on Roy's end of the line. Jason sighed, going to pinch the bridge of his nose before realizing he had a helmet on. 

The whole situation was throwing him off his rhythm — that much was evident. The intel they had collected on the gang of criminals seemed too obvious, too predictable. Jason had his suspicions, but Roy was quick to shut him down. 'Dude, trust me,' he said. Famous last words.

A crackle of static sounded in his earpiece. Roy's voice urgent and choppy before completely dying out. Jason could only attempt to call out to his partner in the hopes of a full response, but his efforts brought no avail. That's another thing that went wrong today.

"Hey, sexy."

What in the fuck.

"Your ass looks great from this angle. The party you're looking for is in a bar on the other side of the city, by the way."

You couldn't actually see him, but he doesn't need to know that. It's just your thing to mess with him, and by the sounds of him cussing you out for hacking into his means of communication, it was working. It was amusing. He kept you entertained.

That was all you had to say to him for now though, so you bid him goodbye. The roaring of his motorcycle over his colorful language directed at you was the last thing you heard before you cut off and allowed his partner to get back on the line.

"Jaybird? You there?"

"Ah, you're back. I'm never trusting you with getting intel again."

"Whatever. Anyway, was that...?"

"Yeah. Y/v/n."

"Hm. I don't know what she's on, but you have no ass like–"

"And yet I have more ass than you, so shut the fuck up, paddle board."

“That... That was a bit harsh, bro.”

Soft gushes of wind blew against your masked face. You shut your eyes, feeling the breeze and relishing in your little moment of peace. Lazily pacing, you hummed a random tune.

Your mischief and cunningness is something your alias was known for. Most often, it's a convenient trait to be able to slip around with ease and get the job done in a snap, but sometimes you get bored. It can be such a drag when nobody tries a confrontation with you. That's why you're so fond of the Red Hood. It's a shame that it's been a while since you've seen him around, so imagine your delight when you feel a familiar presence behind you.

You took a seat at the edge of the building. To anyone, you would've looked like you were having your main character moment, peacefully looking over the city if not for the small pile of bodies rotting away not too far from you. The dried blood on your attire and your fingers no longer irked you in the slightest. It's something you've gotten used to, which lead to your habit of picking the blood under your nails. Red gets annoyed when you do this — all the more reason to entertain your habit in front of him.

You let your legs dangle over the edge without a care. You didn't bother to greet the vigilante, who currently had a gun aimed at your back. Sigh.

“Oh, I do hate the sight of blood.”

“Well then, maybe — just maybe — you shouldn’t kill for a living.”

That got you to turn your head to face him. You cock an eyebrow — doesn’t he kill for a living too? Sure, his victims are usually criminals and thugs while yours are people you’re paid to target, usually business owners and the occasional politician, but you digress. Details. The point is, he kills people too.

A few seconds of staring and prolonging the tension passed, and Jason weighed his options before eventually putting down his gun. He then opted to join you on the ledge.

“So,” he started, “what’s your favorite color?”

Funny.

“Sweetheart, if you thought you’d be able to keep me entertained with small talk... I think I’d rather you shot me.”

You stood up from your spot on the ledge and leaned over the rooftop to examine your altitude. You grin to yourself.

“What are you doing?”

You don’t answer. You want to see something. Instead you turn your body to face Jason and mockingly salute him before leaping off the building, though not before you heard him call out your alias’ name and yell a panicked ‘Wait!’

Immediately after you, Jason followed. You chuckled when you saw him get closer. You enjoyed fooling him around almost as much as you enjoyed fooling around with him.

With no time to waste, he pulled out his grappling hook, yanked your body by the waist, and zipped to the rooftop of the nearest building — one different from the last one you were on.

Jason‘s heaving chest radiated distress.

“You’re fucking insane! You could have died!”

You stood in front of him, arms crossed and your stance relaxed. Nobody would’ve suspected that you literally jumped off a building just a few seconds ago. Aw, you pout, he cares about me.

“Would’ve made your job easier. You know, you heroes are supposed to get rid of the bad guys.”There’s humor in your eyes. Jason knows you’re enjoying this. He hates how much you enjoy this. “So, why’d you save me?”

“Why’d you help me with my mission last time?”

He’s deflecting. Cute.

“Hey, I asked you a question first.” You know he won’t budge til you give him an answer. He’s probably been asking himself that question since it happened. You mentally pout, aww he thinks of me. Sigh. Okay, fine.

“The gang you were after just so happened to have given me a job a little while ago.” You recall some of the gang members attempting to grope you. Some unpleasant memories you’d rather live without. “Pissed me off. Now your turn.”

Why���d you save me?

A pause. He shifted to look to the side. Oh, this is interesting.

“You could have died.” Ah, this again.

“Well, you’ve died,” you remind him. “Not that it really stuck.”

He says your name — your real name. You wonder when he discovered your identity, but then again, you’re not all that surprised. It’s him after all.

He can see your growing smile the longer he refuses to answer your question. He knows you’re already thinking of something, and still opts to ignore your question, allowing you to further indulge in your thoughts. He dreads you enlightening him; he knows it’s coming. Jason could not fathom how one woman could frustrate him so much.

“You like me.” There it is, he thinks. There’s your stupid smirk and your dumb air of arrogance.

“Come on, just admit it, hot shot. You can’t live without me.” Okay, maybe that one’s a bit of a stretch (just a bit), but you stand by it nonetheless.

You grin wide as you approach him. Leaning slightly forward to grab Jason by the collar and pull him down to meet your eyes, you repeat yourself.

“You like me.” Stated with more emphasis, like a significant fact that you try to drill into your head when studying for an exam.

“I’ll shoot you.”

“Please, daddy.”

© smolla-than-a-bug, 2021. please do not copy or repost my works. reblogs are appreciated!

tags — @iwriteaboutstuff @comicsgirlimagines @httpfandxms

#bat family #batfam #imagine #jason todd #jason todd x reader #bat boys #red hood imagine #the red hood #red hood #red hood x reader #roy harper #arsenal #reader insert #dc comics

[echo-three-one]

Hey,hope I'm not bothering ya.

Could you please do Adler with a male reader. Where they've worked together for years and after the Lubyanka incident the reader tells Adler how he feels about him and Adler feels the same but is too scare to confess too. So Adler just ignore R but R ends up Dying went they raid Solovetsky and Adler regrets not telling R how he relly felt.

But you can just ignore this if you want to ✌🏻

Hello mystery anon.

This prompt... It makes me sad.

I'm sorry if it's too short or something... Adler's really not my forte but I'll do my best to portray him accurately. Soon. For now, enjoy this fic.

When it rains.

Russell Adler x Male!Reader (not to be confused with bell)

Almost 700 words

Warnings : The Big Sad, Also Good ending spoilers

To everyone else, Russell Adler was a man of focus, he always looked towards the goal and never let distraction of any form topple his demeanor. But right now, his mind was racing with thoughts, his puffs of smoke were shaky and his fingers shook while holding a cigarette stick between his fingers.

It was supposed to be a day of celebration, the team successfully halted a global scale war by disabling the Solovetsky nukes, but Russell mourned. He mourned over the loss of two valuable people, Bell and Y/N.

For Bell, it was almost inevitable, call Russell an asshole but what he did to the Perseus agent was the best choice, especially after knowing that the whole America used him against his will. The moment Bell remembered everything behind that red door was the moment Russell had to end him. It was too risky for him to waltz freely, especially after realizing what the team did to him. The whole Bell project was a colossal risk anyway, they were lucky enough the agent came to his senses and did the right thing.

But for Y/N, Russell felt differently. He actually suffered great grief as he stood in front of his grave. 

"I'm sorry." he muttered. He wanted it to be louder, but his throat betrayed him. He wanted to say a lot to him, he made promises to himself regarding Y/N. Promises he wanted to do after Solovetsky.

Promises he won't be able to do now. Now that he's gone.

"Y/N, I'm… I'm sorry…" he huffed a small trail of smoke, it wasn't like him to do that.

Of course the grave won't respond, but Adler looked at it like he would reply.

He was about to leave, as he promised the rest of the team that he's just going to take a few sticks out to smoke and he really didn't want to let them know where he went, but then the rain started to pour.

"Rain. Funny, I remember that day you told me you loved the rain." he muttered as he looked up at the sky. A single raindrop dripped on his face, the cold liquid caressed his scarred cheek.

"I remember you did that too." he forced a chuckle. Remembering the way you traced his scar on that rainy night before the KGB infiltration. It was that night you told Adler what you actually felt towards him, only to see him veer towards the window after you spoke.

"Fuck." he hissed, hot tears followed the cold drop as he looked down to your grave.

"I wish I had the guts to say my response… 

I wish I … I should've…" he muttered, forcing himself not to sob. The rain poured heavily as the sky turned gray, just like Adler's heart.

He took a deep breath and knelt down, his hands traced the cursive indents of your name.

"I want you to know that I loved you too…" he spoke softly, putting down his shades.

"If only I was brave enough to tell you that night… Things might've gone differently… I still can't believe you're gone… I know I sound stupid and it's been just a few hours since we saved the world… together… but…

I already miss you." he spoke, his whole body was already dripping wet from the rain, but it didn't matter to him. He wanted to show you that he was mourning, rain or shine. He wanted you to know that he was with you until the very end.

Adler quickly tensed as he heard footprints sloshed through the wet grass, and suddenly the rain stopped pouring on his head. Park stood beside him, raising her umbrella to cover Russell's body.

"I'm sorry, Adler." she consoled, and Adler knew how genuine her tone was. He knew that Park knew everything about the two of you. You couldn't keep it a secret from her.

Adler simply nodded as they walked back to the safehouse, remembering all those times you two bonded in missions, in times of rest and recreation and in crucial moments, those were the times when Russell finally believed that there was still love even after divorce. It was such a shame you had to go...

#russell adler #cod bocw #russell adler x reader #horRAYfic

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 13

first time readers click here 💖

TWs/Summary: In this house, we ship Reader/Tony's Rolls-Royce. Reader and Tony being dorks on a date. That's it that's the chapter. Lots of sass and Tony being Tony.

A question for my readers: Are you still invested? How's the slow burn? Is everything realistic? 👉🏻👈🏻🥺

As usual, my beta is @miscmarvelwritings . I love her.

"Nice digs, Cupcake."

"Nice ride, Tin Man."

The sass fell from my lips, warm and familiar, paving the way for our upcoming debut like the old, soft living room rug. Any awkwardness I had expected there to be left the moment I saw Tony pull up to my front gate in his Royce: the man was just that extra. The size of my estate, the five-figure outfit of mine - it paled in comparison to his own clout. 

In a world where my choices were usually distributed between stuck-up rich boys or insecure middle-class men, Tony was a fresh drink of water with his absolute indifference towards my and his own net worth.

I wasn't afraid to admire said ride, either. Being a huge petrolhead was what got me interested in engineering, physics and computer sciences in the first place. The desire for speed grew into thirst for knowledge: how to get more horsepower, how to tune, how to mod. No mechanic took an eighteen year old rich-girl seriously even when I had all the lingo right, I had to be a step ahead, at all times, if I wanted my ride to be the best. And I never settled for less than that.

"No driver?" I inquired for the reason behind the unusual behaviour. After all, a Rolls' wasn't the kind of car you drive personally. All the amenities it had, it had in the back.

"Gave Happy a day off," Tony remarked absently. I noticed the small quirk of his eyebrow, however. He was intrigued.

I decided to give it a shot. "So what, this thing packs, what, about five-fifty horses?" I mused, watching Tony nearly swerve into the opposite lane. "At two and a half tons, it's still gotta be pretty quick with that V12-turbo. How fast it go?" The satisfaction was immeasurable, as pleasant to my soul as sitting in a heated leather chair with the smell of a new car, engine quietly rumbling in front of me. And by quietly I mean, it was focus-or-you'll-miss-it kind of quiet.

"Well aren't you full of surprises, baby girl," Tony grinned; a happy, excited grin even. It made his face lose ten years of age just like that. "Zero to sixty in five and a half seconds," He said after a moment. 

"Not bad," I said, sounding impressed. I already knew that but I wasn't planning on robbing Tony out of well deserved praise for his choice in vehicles. 

"Got a ride of your own?" He asked with a smile, like he didn't know it already. No background check would have skipped my three speeding tickets, but I concur. This game was fun.

"I do, actually. It's a 2008 Range Rover. Supercharged," I added in the end, just to emphasise.

"A big car for such a little girl," Tony whistled playfully.

"I'm compensating," I deadpanned. "I'm a little slow on the uptake, y'know, so my Rangie with five hundred horses makes up for it. Gotta keep it balanced."

Tony chewed on his lip. "Five hundred? Haven't heard about that, it comes with three-ninety-five in stock," His eyebrow wiggled. "Tuned it?" He cast me a contemplative glance.

"Yup," I exclaimed happily. As far as the date, I would have been utterly ecstatic to talk about cars all evening. Screw the boring "where do you see yourself in five years" questions, talk to me about your favourite engine swaps. Concept cars, give me those. Monster trucks? Yes, please. Vintage low-riders? Couldn't wait to get my grubby little hands on one. Gimmee!

Tony kept his silence and kept his press smile starting the moment we set foot on getting out of the car. The place he'd taken me to was ridiculously upscale and fancy; the valet hesitated only for a second before catching the keys Tony so carelessly tossed in his direction. There was almost no fear in his body language when the boy approached the massive, expensive vehicle.

The hostess smiled big at Tony and gave me the world's biggest stink-eye when he looked the other way but what else is new? As soon as she left us in the privacy of our booth, I didn't hesitate to stick my tongue at her retreating back. A brief lapse in maturity, if you will.

Tony cackled, growing suddenly serious. "Did she bother you? I can get her fired. I should get her fired."

"Nah," I shrugged. "Don't really care, just wanted to showcase my amazing sense of humour." Snorting, I gave Tony a wink and a secretive grin.

"You really don't give a fuck, do you," His eyebrows twitched again, a sign of mild interest that I noted during our routine sciencing time together. Tony was incredibly expressive if one took the time to observe.

"I could suck your dick under the table right now," I answered honestly. "It's just that when God gave out things like dignity and shame, I wasn't home. Too many fun things to do, y'know," I spoke as casually as I could even though I was dying of laughter inside.

Eyes bulging, jaw hanging mid-way to the floor. Tony was serving Looks™ and I didn't mean just the white tee and purple blazer combo. "Princess, you're going to be the fucking death of me!" He took a sip from his water glass, smirking.

Finally releasing my mirth, I gathered my hands in a lock in front of me. His own, warm and calloused, reached over - I allowed the brief intimacy, clasping them, fiddling with the leather band of his watch. For a moment, it was just us, sitting in the dim light, discovering each other anew to Robert Johnson singing the blues and NYC bustling with life just behind the wall. 

The waiter took our orders - and if I totally butchered the Italian, Tony was gentleman enough not to make any remarks. 

"Somehow, every time I am with you, you both manage to meet my expectations to a T and surprise me at the same time," I wasn't able to completely ignore my nerves. My hand was still loosely in his and he didn't mind at all, me messing with his watch.

"How so?"

"I'm going to loosely quote someone, bear with me." Mr Davies's words popped into my mind just as I was wondering how to best articulate my feelings. "You're eccentric and interesting because it's, well, it's you, because it would be much weirder if we'd be sitting here and making boring small-talk and asking each other the genetic get-to-know-you questions," I briefly paused to sip my Dom Peringon and stare at our hands. Gathering my wits. "That would be why I don't do dates. It sounds so tedious on paper, just sorting through people until a person that's not absolutely mind-numbing comes around."

Tony was silent for a moment, the sheen of his eyes, the faraway look; he was lost in memories. Probably remembering all the girls he had charmed before. I didn't doubt it was easy for him: his smile was distracting and people usually were attracted to shiny things. He shone plenty. Also, most people were stupid, they never cared to look past the golden wrapper. I was convinced there was a diamond under it. But then again, I was biased.

"I've never thought about it that way, but I guess you're right," He finally said, serious. "With Pepper, at least, it was. Come to think of it, we never had that much in common, besides Stark Industries and her willingness to put up with my shit." It was painful for him to talk about her, that much was obvious. His laugh was forced and sardonic.

I, on the other hand, never understood why they got together in the first place. Or maybe I did - but the cold, composed Pepper and the chaotic, energetic Tony reminded me too much of my own parents. All four people in this fucked up equation could have been much happier if they choose... What? Being alone? That was terrifying, too.

I kept quiet, giving his hands a gentle squeeze.

"You know, this is so bizarre. Even an eighteen year old kid has got it figured out," He suddenly said, his tone bitter like the coffee that he loved.

"Woah, slow down," I put up a hand. "I never said I know what to do. I just said I know what NOT to do." The 'kid' remark would have made me eye-roll so hard my skull would crack any day. In this context, however, it was pretty spot on.

Tony snorted. "And how did you come by that information, pray tell, Baby?"

I huffed. "Have you met my parents?" We simultaneously cringed and I hurried to erase that mental image. "I make fun of myself for being into old dudes all the time," I made air quotes around the phrase that made Tony scoff, "But, honestly speaking, I've never even been on a date. Like a real one. Usually it's twenty minutes and I'm falling asleep mid-conversation. People can't seem to keep up with me or something," I felt genuinely dejected. "So many meaningless questions, so many downright idiotic comments. From men," I pointed out the obvious. "My mother used to tell me she thought I was gay because I didn't act like a girl... Whatever that means."

"That sounds pretty shitty," Tony was studying me like one would have been looking at an exotic animal in a zoo. "That said, I agree."

"That I don't act like a girl?" I teased him, the left corner of my mouth tilting upward. "Fuck that noise. I want to drive fast cars, drink straight liquor and have orgasms. If that makes me a dude... I look pretty good for a dude in a dress."

We laughed in unison, tension evaporating under the shared, mutual understanding. With Tony, it was easy. The waiter brought our selected dishes. Blink-and-he's-gone. Top notch service.

"A dude in a dress, can't say I'm surprised 'bout your lack of dates," He remarked conversationally, happily digging into his food. The noises he made were intriguing, to say the least, and I followed suit on my own food, finding it absolutely delicious. A delicious meal with a delicious man at my side. I refused to feel guilty about my thoughts.

"I guess I have exactly one (1) date on my ledger now," I raised my argument.

The fork clattered as Tony once again, came to a sudden realization. "Holy shit, you weren't kidding."

"No shit," I gave into the urge to roll my eyes. "But on the upside, my first date was with the most gorgeous, intelligent and witty bachelor of the city. I'd say I don't have it all that bad," I quirked an eyebrow at him.

"Aw, you're making me blush," Tony recovered quickly, grinning. "And don't be shy. The most desired bachelor of the country, if not the world."

I shook my head. "No, the world's most delectable bachelor is one of the Saudi princes. What's-his-name, the one who posts goat and horse pics on Insta," I snapped my fingers a couple of times, trying to remember the name as Tony looked at me all offended. "Anyways, you get my point. I could have a go at him, don't you think?" Cocking my shoulder, coyly twirling the strap of my dress, I gave Tony my best come-hither look and was rewarded with an appreciative once-over. His eyes were growing hungry again. 

"You're a million dollar baby," He finally said, voice low. "And the extent of people I would be willing to share you with is very small."

That got me interested, sudden heat prickling underneath my skin. The conversation took a turn I didn't expect it to; and there lied the delight of being around Tony. He was always ready to surprise, in the best way. "Tell me," I requested politely.

"That's a conversation for another time," He was enjoying the chit-chat, desire beginning to creep into his features.

"Mmm, you think?" I allowed the strap of my dress to slip down my shoulder, exposing a collarbone, showing him just how far I was willing to go to satisfy my curiosity.

He swallowed audibly. "I think... You're smart enough to figure it out," He finally gritted his teeth, finishing off his dinner and immediately calling for the check. 

I wasn't done yet, however. The possibility of riling him up, taunting him into a lustful frenzy - I was in heaven. Karma had favoured me that evening, it had given me a chance to get Tony back for all the times he unknowingly made my mouth water and my brain go blip. "Must be Steve then," I bit my lip in thought. 

Honestly? I was as clueless as the couple next table over. Steve it wasn't, that much I knew for sure, he and Tony had their little love/hate dramatic connection that always ended in a massive ego standoff. Tony would be on the frontline fighting against Steve if the blonde dared to show anything even remotely resembling romantic interest towards someone Tony himself had his eyes on.

"Princess," Tony growled, sarcastically raising an eyebrow.

"Not Steve," I replied, cracking a smile. Success! "You know, I'm really bad at guessing who's into me. Unless someone is balls deep in me," My face was mere inches away as we quickly shrugged on our coats. "And even then, I can't be sure."

My giggling was accompanied by Tony shaking his head in exasperated fashion; he took my hand nonetheless and I happily swayed it between us, poster child for "not a care in the world". He allowed it, maintaining the same exasperated air about him, and I let him. Fondness and happiness seeped through that anyways.

"Brat," His voice was kind. And his kiss tingled where he left it on the corner of my mouth, sweet and short. "Here, have a go," Before I could react, the keys to his Rolls Royce were placed in my palm and he was making his way around the car to the passenger's side.

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