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foli-vora · 1 year

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without you

matt murdock x f!reader

A/N: made myself hurt with this one tbh. I'll think about a part 2 if enough are interested, but I'll warn you - it won't be a happy ending lmao. Enjoy the angst-fest loves! x

Summary: You return after the 'blip'. Five years is a long time, and a lot of things can happen in that time.

Word count: 2.1kish

Warnings: ANGST. ANGST ANGST ANGST. i got sad af writing this. i don't even know what to put in the warnings. the events of infinity war & endgame, brief mention of the avengers, severe and utter fucking heartbreak, i would lose my fucking mind coming home after an apparent 5 years and finding the love of my life *******, lots of anxiety/panic, severe panic attack, passing out. no hate to karen here - she's a fucking babe.

It happens within a blink.

One moment there’s no one, and the next, an older woman is suddenly standing in your way and you can’t help the brief twitch of annoyance that she’s there. You have a meeting, you have groceries to get… you can’t just play chicken with a stranger on the pavement all afternoon.

She freezes, like many others you notice, and your frown deepens, confusion starting to take over the irritation. They all look at you, but not just you.

Time seemingly comes to a momentary freeze and you just don’t understand. Why is she looking at you like that?

The next minute—panic.

There’s a rush.

People scramble for their phones, they run. Cars swerve and there’s chaos. There are people crying, people start screaming, but there’s also awe, laughter. People embrace strangers. You know they’re strangers by the way they look around in complete bewilderment in the arms of the other, seemingly just as confused as you.

Five years.

Why do you keep hearing ‘five years’? Why are shop fronts different? What the hell has happened?

“You’re… you’re all back,” the woman utters, tears starting to build along her lash line.

Back?

You feel it in the pit of your stomach, a sick feeling of dread slowly building until it feels like it sticks uncomfortably in your throat. Something happened. You don’t know what, you don’t know how, all you know is that you need to go home immediately.

It’s halfway back to the apartment, after passing things that weren’t there previously, shops that you had passed just hours before now different, and your phone simply refusing to connect for unknown reasons, that you break into a panicked run.

You want home, you want somewhere familiar.

Matt left for work the same time as you—would the new mayhem taking over the streets bring him home to you? Maybe he’d already be waiting, sensing the frenzy before you?

The view of your building is a welcome relief, and you slow as you reach the door, heart pounding in your chest as you take the stairs as quickly as possible. The apartment is unlocked, and you berate yourself for forgetting to lock up earlier, but Matt’s cane resting by the door turns your inward irritation to understanding.

He’s home. He got here before you. He must be waiting, maybe he’d have answers—

“Matty?” you call, “do you have any idea what’s—”

A clatter, a sweep of air, and then he’s on you.

He’s curled around you before you can even finish, his arms so tight and constricting you struggle to take in a full breath. He’s talking, muttering incoherent words into the skin of your throat and all you can do is stand there, mind whirling in a maddening rush, not even able to lift your arms to return his embrace due to his restrictive hold.

“You’re here,” he breathes, almost disbelieving, “you’re here. I didn’t want to have hope but—God, I—”

“Matt, I’m so confused,” you breathe, unsure of why tears are starting to gloss your eyes or why your heart suddenly feels like it’s beating in the back of your throat, “what’s going on? It’s crazy out there, I don’t know wh—”

“I know. I know, sweetheart. I’ve missed you. God, I’ve missed you. It’s been so long, I didn’t think I’d ever—” he trails off, unable to finish his sentence and a few more panicked kisses press into the side of your throat.

He’s crying.

You feel the wetness of his tears smear over your skin and it’s enough to bring your own falling heavily from your eyes. What is he talking about? You saw him this morning, only mere hours ago. You made breakfast, you kissed him goodbye like every other day, nothing had been different.

“Matt,” you whimper, “what the hell is going on?”

—

Five years. You were gone for five years. Just one day—poof. Out of existence, never to be seen again. The city had been clouded by dust, remnants of those also taken disappearing with the autumn breeze. So many people just lost. You don’t remember any of it.

There was no pain, no suffering. You had no recollection of the time lost at all, and yet for Matt it had been years.

Years since he had touched you, kissed you, felt you. He tells you that he looked for you for weeks, months. Even went to the damn Avengers—or what was left of them—and found out what had happened. He’d been distraught, falling into a deep, dark pit of despair and heartbreak from the sudden loss of you.

You cry for him, for the time you’d lost together.

Nothing could ever make up for it. Sure, you’re here now, but could you ever truly make up for the loss of time? What had he gone through during your absence?

The two of you don’t part for what feels like hours.

Matt clings to you, inhaling you deeply and kissing whatever inch of skin he could reach. He doesn’t pull away to answer your questions, instead letting the low rumble of his voice melt through the fabric of your shirt and flooding warmth along your shoulder.

His hands still roam over you, almost as if they’re retracing your dips and curves to remind himself of how you felt when you disappeared five years ago. You catch his fingers with a sweet flutter in your chest, lifting his hand to press a tender kiss to the back of it when the smooth feel of metal catches your attention.

It’s a simple gold band, fit snug around the fourth finger of his left hand and you rub your finger over the shiny surface of it in curiosity. He wasn't wearing a ring this morning...

A ring.

A wedding ring.

You feel sick.

He senses the moment you realise it, picking up on the sudden quicken of your heartbeat and the clammy sting of sweat that builds along the back of your neck.

His tongue darts out to moisten his lips as you stare at the smooth gold band in shock, feeling as if the room had suddenly gotten ten times smaller. He starts to shift, his fingers quickly flipping to wrap around your wrists to keep you from moving away.

“Let me explain—”

“You… are—are you married?”

“Sweetheart, please—”

You hurriedly stand, wrenching your hands from his and stumbling on your quick step back as he advances after you. He’s married? How can he be married?

Maybe he’s not. Maybe he just slid the ring you both picked out onto his finger when you disappeared in an effort to keep your memory fresh… but with the shine of guilt starting to seep into his features, you fear it’s not as sentimental as you hope.

Panic consumes you. Your eyes flitter around the room, your ears filling with a dull ring that drowns out whatever words fall from his lips as he cautiously steps after you.

It’s your apartment, but it’s… it’s not.

You start to notice the little things you had missed upon coming home so quickly. That throw over the back of the couch isn’t yours. The coffee mug next to Matt’s on the kitchen counter isn’t yours. Your trinkets aren’t lingering on the shelves where you’d placed them. Your shoes aren’t thrown by the door. Your photo with Matt isn’t in its usual spot on the wall.

Instead, another picture hangs there.

Bile burns the back of your throat. Your heart thunders away in your ears. You know what it is, you can see the general feel of it and who stands within the frame through blurry eyes, but you simply can’t accept it.

It’s morbid curiosity that makes you take those few steps towards it, a part of you screaming to not look, to turn away before it really hammers that final nail into the coffin and fucking destroys you. Maybe your mind needs to truly see it in order to make sense of it… but no. It only makes you more confused, more distressed.

What the fuck?

Oxygen is impossible. You can’t fucking breathe. You can’t—

“Sweetheart—”

It’s a wedding photo.

Matt’s wedding photo.

Matt and Karen’s wedding photo.

“Oh my god,” you whimper brokenly, clutching a hand to your chest in an effort to keep yourself together. You press where you feel the rapid beat of your heart, half wondering if you’d be able to feel the break of the frantic organ under your palm.

The room starts to spin.

This morning you’d woken up with an apartment and a fiancé, and now, only a few hours later, you have nothing. How can you have nothing? The apartment is home to you—you left your pyjamas on the floor of the bathroom this morning. You had your coffee at the counter. The love you feel for Matt is present as it always had been, there in the centre of your entire being, so sweet and consuming and yet, his love for you had seemingly vanished.

Disintegrated, along with your body apparently five years ago. Maybe with a clearer head, you’d come to understand that five years is a long time and it’s understandable that he had to move on at some point, but in the moment you feel nothing but hurt—rage.

Matt’s hands are frantic on your body, grabbing at your arms and keeping you from falling to the floor as a sob tears its way out of your chest. You can hear him try to soothe you, hear his worry that your heart is erratic and you just need to breathe.

Breathe, sweetheart—please, breathe.

You can’t. You simply can’t.

Oxygen isn’t coming as easily as it should. Your lungs burn. You’re shaking, unable to stop the tremble taking over your body as you choke on your tears. They burn your skin, painting your cheeks with the bitterness of your heartbreak and they just won’t stop.

He supports you as you sink towards the floor, legs no longer having the strength to hold you up. He goes down with you, hands cradling your head to his chest and you can’t find it in you to push him away and escape his touch.

It’s Matt. Your Matt.

You shouldn’t want to shrug him off. You shouldn’t feel guilty at his touch. He’s your Matt, has been for the eighteen months you’ve been together. It was meant to be you in that frame, swimming in white with a smile stretched along your lips, Matt dressed to the nines in an immaculate tux and his ever present red shades beside you.

But it’s not. It’s… it’s Karen.

It’s not you, there’s no trace of you anywhere to be seen. Had you been that forgettable? Foggy’s there, Marci a step behind holding a beautiful little girl with ribbons in her hair. They had a baby? You’ve missed so much.

You start weeping for the life you’d missed out on, for the chances and opportunities of growing older with them and the sweet potential you had had with Matt.

Gone.

All of it, just—gone.

Where would you be now had your soul not been chosen? Married? Promoted? A godmother to the sweet little angel cradled in Marci’s arms?

“Sweetheart, come back to me,” Matt’s voice cuts through your despair, low and soft in your ear and you cling to him tighter, “breathe. I’ve got you, I’m here.”

“I-I’ve lost so much,” you choke out, hiding your tear stricken face in his throat and desperately trying to get ahold of your body jerking with each difficult inhale and broken exhale, “and I didn’t even know—”

You didn’t know. You didn’t know anything when you apparently ‘returned’. It’s all so haunting and overwhelming and so fucking confusing.

He stills smells the same, feels the same, despite all these years. You cling to him, desperate for comfort in the moment of your utter heartbreak, but it doesn’t work like it used to and that only makes your pain increase tenfold. His hold feels wrong now. His hold isn’t for you anymore. He has a wife.

You still don’t understand. You can’t comprehend the fact that he’s married, that the arms that hold you are now meant for someone else. They were yours this morning. It’s not possible. You had him this morning; you felt him this morning, you kissed him—

“Sweetheart,” he’s urgent now, manoeuvring you in his hold until you sit in front of him, your back pressed up against his chest and his arms tight around your torso, “breathe with me. Feel my chest, listen to me and follow—in… and out. Come on—”

You pay attention to the exaggerated feel of him breathing against your back, focusing on every expansion of his chest and attempting to match the pace of your inhales. It doesn’t work. Your heart still thunders away against your ribs, your mind still runs fucking wild, and your eyes threaten to roll back from the rush of it all.

“Stay with me,” he begs, but his voice starts to sink to the back of your mind, taken over by the high pitched ring sounding in your ears.

It’s not long until black fully engulfs your vision, and Matt’s voice calling your name is the last thing you hear, frantic and terrified. Maybe you'll find peace in the darkness.

matty tags: @javier-pena, @dihra-vesa, @a-reader-and-a-writer, @radiowallet, @januarystears, @danidrabbles, @amneris21, @acourtofsnakes, @mstgsmy66, @evyiione, @stardust-galaxies, @kelseyxyeslek, @greeneyedblondie44, @you-got-me-starry-eyed, @withasideofmeg, @mad-girl-without-a-box, @fangirl-316, @xoxabs88xox, @federleichtefreiheit, @lavenderluna10, @mindidjarin. @stardustingold, @androah, @itwasthereaminuteago, @wildmoonflower, @naughtynecromancer, @h-hxgirl, @Unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men, @juletheghoul, @punkerthanpascal, @itswanktime, @omlwhatamidoinghere, @celestinemuse, @chaoticemz, @alexxavicry, @mylifeispainandiloveit, @cran-berry-vodka, @nishi-reads, @mandocrasis, @lawfulgranola, @ew-erin, @fuckoffbard, @spaceserialkiller, @captain-jebi

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x f!reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock #matt murdock imagine #matt murdock angst #daredevil fanfiction #marvel fanfiction

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lolokouhm · 6 months

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PRETTY PLEASE? pt.I

Out of all humans walking on this Earth, Satoru Gojo might be the most impatient one.

The clock seems to have stopped the moment you walked out of his apartment, and despite his efforts to make the time flow at least a tiny bit faster, he’s miserable. That’s not how the night was supposed to go - he had plans, and one thing about Satoru is that he hates when his plans end up in ruin. This time though, there is only one person he can blame, and that is himself. It’s not your fault that when you were telling him about the girls’ night you had planned weeks ago with your besties, he was dozing off, playing with those tiny buttons on your favourite shirt. He couldn’t help himself - there was something so mesmerising about the act, and Satoru got invested.

He’d very much prefer to get invested in anything involving you than to sit alone in his apartment, waiting for you to call. At least you asked him to pick you up after you’re done - otherwise, he’d be sulking for weeks. He’s sulking now, laying on the bed, frustrated and alone, scrolling through every possible social media you use. At least there’s a tiny chance he’ll get a glimpse inside of the party you’re at, right? Wrong. You seem to be doing that on purpose, as there’s no new content for him to indulge in and sulk over even more. Satoru knows you’re the type of person who loves to overshare on the internet, so the current silence is quite suspicious. He’s trying his best not stress over it, as he swore he wouldn’t text and call, but his inner demon is really starting to sweat over it. He sighs. It’s so frustrating. Your relationship is a rather fresh subject and there were some areas of it that you haven’t really explored, but he was more than ready to do it tonight. To set the record straight - and after weeks of dating, movie nights and cook-offs in your apartment to officially ask you to become his girlfriend.

The thought of his perfect night with you yet again pops in his head as he drops the phone on the bed, trying to shake the uneasiness. In normal circumstances, he’d have you wrapped around his finger after a week, throw a random sentence that would suggest you’re a couple from now on and be done, but when it comes to you, nothing seems normal. Not his heart rate. Not his sex drive. Not his thoughts. If love’s a war, then he’s not the brightest soldier on the battlefield - it seems like everything about him is ruthlessly occupied by you.

Even his speed. It’s abnormal, how fast he’s picking the phone up when a notification from you finally appears on his screen. Satoru rushes to his car, excitement filling up his entire being to the point where the speed limits become relatively unimportant - even if he gets a fine, he would have more than enough to pay for that. There’s only one thing that’s priceless, and that is, time. To be exact - time with you, which he has a severe shortage of, no matter for how many hours he’s blessed to be in you presence. Even infinity seems like not enough.

His sufferings have finally come to an end, as Satoru has already parked in your bestie’s driveway. He takes out his phone and texts you „I’M HEREEE” with a million of random emojis, and then slowly leans his head on the cold window glass. From the pieces of information he’s managed to pull out from the darkest places of his memory, it seems like these girls’ nights are an annual thing that happen when one of your closest friends comes back to the city once in a while - she’s been studying overseas for the past few years, but your girlfriends and you are very serious about friendship and do everything in your power to keep it alive and kicking. The effort you put in the relationship pays off - you always have your girls to talk to, vent and cry, and they have you. He grins unconsciously. Another thing Satoru loves about you. You’re just such a sweetheart.

He observes the entrance, waiting for you to finally come out. It’s past 1 a.m and the whole neighbourhood seems to be sleeping. Satoru rolls the windows down a bit and as the freezing, but nicely refreshing air hits him, his eyes light up when he picks up a faint sound of your voice coming from the house. And then, just moments later, the doors open wide and a familiar shape emerges. Satoru instinctively fixes himself on the seat and brings both of his hands on the wheel, just to tighten his grip on them as you slowly come out from the shadows. He finally can see you, in your whole glory, when the light coming from one of the reflectors catches your frame.

You are so fucking cute.

Satoru’s smile grows bigger and bigger until it almost doesn’t fit his face. Cute is a perfect word to describe your whole being - incredibly wholesome, bright, at the same time dumb in some ways and extremely knowledgeable in the others. And tonight, Gojo Satoru is set on making you officially his.

He’s ready to go out and open the passenger’s door for you, but you’re faster, even though your legs feel slightly wobbly as you almost sprint to his car, determined to run away from autumn cold. You grip the handle and suddenly you’re welcomed by cozy warmth and Satoru’s overwhelming scent.

„Toru!”, you exclaim, basically throwing yourself into his open arms, giggling non-stop. The white-haired man in the driver’s seat grabs you instantly, hugging you tightly in his arms and you hide your face in his torso. You’re home.

He’s home.

„Hi, princess. I missed you so, sooo much”, he coos, not really paying attention to the fact that your body twisted in this awkward position may be activating some car options that he has no idea exist. You fit into his frame perfectly and that’s all that matters.

„Toooru”, you purr into his hoodie, words barely audible. He raises his hands from your waist to cup you chin and kiss you, but you’re faster - you sit up properly, making a place for yourself right on his lap. You slowly raise your head and then - Satoru notices. Your flushed cheeks. Your shiny eyes. Your adorable smile.

And then you drop it.

„Toru, I need you to fuck me. Please?”

masterlist ❤️

this will get a part two, it's just been sitting in my drafts for so long I had to post it haha based on a drabble I wrote some time ago. prepare for subby gojo I guess

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #satoru gojo #gojo #gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojou satoru x reader #jjk satoru #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujustu kaisen #gojo fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen gojo

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vee-nyx · 24 hours

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to celebrate 8 years since civil war release, let’s review all the ways tony stark was an absolute loser and actually the reason thanos won in infinity war:

created an omnicidal A.I. that the rest of the team warned him against creating

decided that the entire team needed to become government puppets because he felt guilty for creating said A.I. that, once again, NO ONE SUPPORTED HIM IN MAKING

(also the reason bucky was forced back into the fight bc tony caused sokovia and thus caused zemo’s need for revenge but i digress on that pt)

when members of the team who can’t disconnect from their abilities raised concerns about how the accords dehumanized them, he had them arrested or locked them in his tower

bribed (yes, bribed) a child into fighting on his side because he knew he was outmatched

instructed vision to shoot sam out of the sky and then shot sam point-blank when he avoided the blast that would’ve left him severely injured AND LANDED TO HELP THE PERSON IT HIT

wanda on the raft. this is its own point. he let her be restrained and collared like a fucking DOG as if he hadn’t already done enough damage in her life (killing her parents & brother)

proceeded to break the accords THAT HE HELPED WRITE to chase cap across the globe because he felt left out of the action

blamed a brainwashed pow for BEING FORCED to kill the starks AGAINST HIS WILL and proceeded to BLOW HIS ARM OFF and ATTEMPT TO KILL HIM DESPITE KNOWING THAT NONE OF IT WAS HIS CHOICE

mocked natasha’s trauma because she dared to disagree with his methods (he is, in fact, incapable of letting go of his ego for one goddamn second)

even after receiving an apology, refused to contact cap for three years despite KNOWING about the threat of thanos

in conclusion,

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fluffyprettykitty · 1 year

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Haven

Pairing: Sam Wilson x shield agent female reader (no other specifications!)

Word Count: 1300 words

Outline: Former shield agent now working in secret for the nomad team so why is your heart flattering when you have to take care of your former flame?

Warnings: tiny angst, reunion sex, swearing, pet names, food mention, movie inaccuracies, breast worship, biting, male ejaculation. if I missed anything major please let me know!

Author’s Note: infinity war! sam au is here! Loved the angsty emotional angle very much. sam thots and especially about aus are always welcome :) next on the to be written list are 1st bf!, sugardaddy!, samnat & the alphabet.

PS: dividers & banners by @saradika

Main Masterlist ・❥・ Sam Wilson Masterlist

A year after the whole airport Avengers scene has left you scattered broken and unemployed. Working a few odd jobs here and there as a former shield agent and an expert skillful agent have you picking jobs from the black market and trying your best to help and protect the nomad team.

Your base right now is on a small island in the pacific ocean and when in the middle of the night you receive a red alert for immediate excavation you are more than ready to help. What you didn't expect was your former flame, Sam Wilson to be the recipient of the help. He looked injured & bloody as he was walking out of the quinjet, getting invincible behind him.

"Sam!" You exclaim running to him. He shrugs his shoulders and smiles softly. "Aliens." He stops you before you could even speak. "The rest of the team are elsewhere, safe. And I am hoping to be now. As long..." he gestures around. "You got a nice meal and a warm bed for me to lay on."

"Of course, Sam. I got everything." Your heart is warming up, you never expected to see him like this, on his own, looking charming as ever even though you could tell the impact was severe.

You bring him to your small house and allow him to shower as you put his suit in a basket letting it soak with soap hopefully, that will wash off the blue alien blood. Then you decide to cook something simple, rice and meatballs, by the time you're done and setting the table he's coming around with just a towel around his lower body.

"So...you don't do clothes in this house?" You laugh even if you try to avert your gaze from staring at his body too much. He looks uninjured, the only visible scars now were on his face. Looks like he needs better head protection.

"I forgot!" You shake your shoulders and head for the closet. "Oh really, did something distract you?"

"No, I was focused on cooking."

"Ah-huh. I believe that." He smiles and sniffs up the air. "Meatballs?"

"The only good thing I know how to make."

"Hmm, you did also make amazing boiled eggs."

You snort as you pick up a pillow and throw it at him. He doesn't catch it as he lets it fall on the floor.

"I know you wanna see me naked, baby."

You scoff in response and throw at him the clothes you picked for him. "Nu huh." You place your hands over your eyes and smile. "Not one bit."

"Ah sure. I see you peeking."

And that's how the rest of the night, now early morning went, Sam got dressed had some food, recited stories to you, described very vividly how alien-y the aliens were, and in the end fell asleep. The rest of the three days went on like this, with the flirtations and the teasing getting more and more psychical until you knew it was time for him to leave again and you almost felt your heart sinking in your chest.

You watch him as he sleeps, breathing slowly in and out, shirtless with just a blanket around his legs, looking more peaceful than ever.

"Ya know you can tell when someone stares at you."

You scoff and cross your arms rolling your eyes.

"I just wanted to see if you had fallen asleep."

"Sounds like something that takes no more than one second. You've been sitting there for more than five minutes." He finally opens his eyes and rolls over looking at you and crossing his arms. God his muscular arms looked delicious like that. You wanted nothing more than to curl up there with him. Safe and secure inside his embrace.

Second instincts kick in and you roll your eyes again before turning around to leave. You only make it a few steps before he grabs you by your arm and turns you around pushing you against the wall. He doesn't speak, just stares deeply into your eyes as you are breathing short and heavily, your body responding to him in an extreme way. You needed him, you loved him.

"Sam." You mumble trying to regain your composure. His arm stays tauntingly above your head his other hand still holding your wrist, checking your heart pulses.

"I like clear answers."

"Sam, don't make this any harder than it has to be."

"I'm not doing anything. I was sleeping."

You scoff and close your eyes in frustration. What's the point of this? He has to leave, he has to help the world. You needed to stay here, act as a safe haven.

"I should pack your essentials." You say directly looking at him.

"No." He retorts and then crushes his lips against yours, leaving you both surprised and ridiculously drenched for him. He only kisses you once before pulling away to watch your reaction again.

"Sam." You repeat, his breath hot on your tongue, your chest finally filling with air. Your hand is on his chest caressing it, he seems to be getting calmer. "I...please, don't regret me."

"Never." He shakes his head. "Never. I've missed you, I could never regret you." His lips land on yours again, soft and velvety, with the utmost sweetness full of life and adoration.

You remember these lips, memories come alive in your head as his hands begin to wander on your body. He needs to touch you everywhere at once as your hands respond in the same way. He engulfs with his body, his kisses turning to bites on your jaw and further down your neck, as a moan escapes you, filling the air of the small room. Suddenly, you are sure of every little thing in the world and you allow him to take control.

And he wastes no time, tearing your clothes apart with his arms and teeth, biting your breasts, pulling your nipples, kissing your chest as your hand stays stroking his hard-on over his sweatpants until he cursed and pulled his pants down himself. And he almost hissed when you touched his cock, his teeth still playing with your nipples, one hand moving to your core, rubbing it slowly.

"Shit, baby, looks like a job for a plumber down here." You giggle at his line which quickly changed to a gasp as the cold air hit you when he undressed you followed by a moan as he pushed a curled finger inside.

"Oh looks like we need to do a lot of work down here." You let your head hit the wall. "Looks like we gonna need a tool." He nods his head and replaces his finger with his cockhead which has you dropping to a low sound.

"Oh, looks good." He pushes inside, stretching your walls, your hands wrapping around his neck. "Oh, such a tight hole, think that's the problem here, need some good fucking to get properly fixed." You giggled at his goofiness as he started doing what he was best at - screwing you silly.

A couple of minutes later and in many different sex positions he has you on the couch, laying under him as his hands cup your face, his thrusts slow and sensual and even though he has already drawn orgasm after orgasm of you, he still remains full. You know he has planned something. Something hella corny.

So when he finally orgasms, he does it looking deep inside your eyes, shooting his seed down your stomach as he repeats your name almost like a chant, resting his forehead against yours.

And when the morning comes, he doesn't leave your home.

Because you are his home.

His safe haven.

If you want to be notified about my future stories please follow my library blog @fluffyprettykittylibrary and turn on notifications!

#selenewrites #sam wilson #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson x y/n #sam wilson x you #sam wilson x fem!reader #sam wilson one shot #sam wilson smut #sam wilson fic #captain america #sam wilson fanfiction #sam wilson oneshot #infinity war

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ircn-dad · 2 years

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One thing I love about Irondad is that Tony -despite his past with Howard- is not cold with Peter, and is not ashamed to admit how much he cares for the kid (in his way, ofc).

People always judge Tony's character is Homecoming because "Hah!! Stark doesn't care about him! He ignored for two months!! He's the worst!"

Can I Start saying that that man right here wasn't in the right mood to mentor a kid right after civil war? He saw his parents die, he saw his friend almost killing him in rage and then had to deal with the breakup of the Avengers and the whole Rhodey's situation. He probably thought it would be better for both to not be in contact, because while Tony wants to heal, he also want Peter to not be like him.

Think about it: After civil war, Tony was a disaster and all of this because he was an Avenger. Of course the man wouldn't want Peter to be like him, not when Tony's life went down hill since the first day as Iron Man. He doesn't want that life for a fifteen years old kid, so he leaves Peter with Happy and everyone is safe.

Not because he doesn't want the kid around, but because he thinks it's the best for the kid to not be around a billionaire with severe anxiety and a little bit narcissistic.

Tony never showed any discomfort around Peter, since their first scene together. He has always been interested in the kid, and was the one one who understood Peter, as Peter said him self in the infinity War novelization.

(I won't start saying how everyone blames Tony for "manipulating" Peter and bringing him into a war. Just know that is incorrect, and Tony would never bring a kid in a war, because that wasn't meant to be a fight. Tony brought Peter so that -his words, not mine- he could web them up if they tried to escape. He never thought about ending up with a broken arm and with Rhodey who can't walk anymore)

Anyway, returning to the subject, I think we can all agree on one thing: Peter is not aware of how Tony actually cares about him. But not because Tony is an asshole and hates him, but because of one reason:

1. Peter in homecoming only wanted to prove himself. He desperately wanted Tony to see the potential in him, so during all the movie he he acted so that Tony could be proud of him, but at the same time when Tony complimented him he didn't even showed gratitude. He was blinded by wanting to show the man what he was worth for that he didn't notice Tony was always proud until the very end.

I don't think the main problem is in fact Tony because as we see, and Peter can't, he actually already invested in Peter's life.

He listens to the voicemails, remembers them and always kept an eye on him, even during his journey to India (TO RECOVER HIM SELF FROM CIVIL WAR Y'ALL).

And can I say something more? Tony isn't afraid to think Peter as his son. Often, in the Fanfics, we always see Tony panics because him and Peter became closer and he's scared how he could be like Howard to the kid. The second part is right, but he would never panic about thinking Peter as his son. Actually, he doesn't mind and already thinks the kid as his responsibility.

It's actually funny and cute how he says "My father never really gave me a lot of support and I'm just trying to break the cycle of shame" because all I see is a man who was neglected and abused by his father, and hated the idea of having a child because of this (remember that scene in IM3 where he flinches at the only thought of having one) until he met Peter. He decided to be better because of him, he wanted to change because of him.

When he says "I sound like my father" my heart broke because no, YOU DON'T YOU SILLY.

These two phrases demonstrate how he's not afraid to tell the kid he sees himself like a father for him. Ofc he's scared because he doesn't want to end up as his own father, but he is ready to be a good role for Peter when he will finally be healed from civil war.

He's not cold, he's not distant towards Peter and even though he's afraid of ruining the kid and his childhood, he already loves him.

Homecoming was a new start for both of them and I believe that in the two years between Infinity war and Homecoming they were not afraid to tell each other how much they cared (again, on their way because even I think it's pretty weird imagining tony saying "I love you you're my son" to Peter or Peter saying "Yes you're my dad adopt me" because that's so out of character).

Every interaction they had in infinity war screamed that. You can clearly see how much the kid is now comfortable with the man, is not shy around him, and is not scared to talk to him; you can also see how Tony has become more protective of Peter. Literally everything he says or does screams "don't touch this kid or I will kill everyone in this room and then my self" (I mean, that's what he did in endgame, no?)

at last, I want to appreciate this scene because it's not appreciated enough:

Strange is literally assuming Tony is Peter's guardian, and the way Tony crosses his arm, assuming this defensive pose to protect him self when he said "I'm confused as to the relationship here" because he wants to know what Strange has to say about them, ready to answer and to kick his ass out of the flying donut if he says something bad about Peter or about their relationship. Or the fact he always has something to answer to Strange, but this time he stays silent and doesn't even try to explain who is Peter when he asks he is his ward because that's his kid and so many other things he doesn't know how to explain.

Also, Peter saying an awkward and quick no while staring at Tony will never not be cute for me. It's like this already happened before and someone already pointed out how they look father and son together, and Peter is not even that embarrassed. He's just confused why everyone keeps thinking they are father and son (but not unhappy)

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catofadifferentcolor · 24 days

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Terrible Fic Idea #87: Percy Jackson, but make it MCU

Look, I didn't want to come up with yet another crazy PJO crossover, but here I am. Because instead of just coming up with the lightest, fluffiest, gayest PJO romance possible - which is what I wanted - I had to turn it into an MCU identity reveal fic too.

Or: What if post-ToA Percy Jackson was Peter Parker's caseworker following Aunt May's untimely death?

Just imagine it:

Tony Stark first meets Percy Jackson in the ICU of Metropolitan General the day after Peter and his aunt are caught in a terrible subway accident. May dies on scene. Even with his advanced healing, Peter is badly injured and taken to the nearest hospital - where it quickly becomes apparent he's Enhanced. It takes about 24 hours for the news to make its way to Tony, who immediately storms the hospital with the intention of taking Peter back to his Tower to heal-

-only to be told Peter's not going anywhere by the social worker assigned to the case.

This is remarkable for many reasons, not the least because the social worker is an unassuming, overworked 27-year-old wearing Finding Nemo socks and a faded Save the Oceans t-shirt. That the case worker - Percy Jackson - stands his ground in the face of Iron Man's wrath is even more remarkable, but Tony is forced to admit the kid has a point: he can't just let someone without any obvious connection to a minor walk off with said minor, particularly when that minor is Enhanced.

It takes Tony a couple days to get his ducks in a row, proving that he is not only able and willing to take in Peter, but is the one his aunt wanted to take care of him in the event something happened to her. During that time he has JARVIS research everything he can on Percy (lives in a Central Park penthouse owned by his long-time boyfriend, a successful music producer; volunteers for a NPO started by his best friend dedicated to restoring the wild; brief stint as the youngest ever on the FBI's most wanted, etc), but finds nothing to suggest he's anything other than a social worker trying to do what's best for his charges.

Percy becomes a semi-regular fixture at the Tower. At first it's just business, checking in on how Peter is doing and facilitating the foster care/adoption paperwork. Later it becomes something akin to friendship, with Percy being utterly unimpressed by Tony's fame but remarkably charmed by his inventions and philanthropic efforts. (He also comes to have strong feelings about the Rogues and their actions during the Civil War once he learns of them, helping Tony to see their betrayal for what it is. This alone makes him one of Rhodey and Pepper's favorite people.)

This goes on for quite some time - though I see this as happening post-CACW, we don't jump straight into the Infinity War, with there being several years wherein the Accords are ratified, the Rogues found and tried for their actions in the Civil War, and for the most part allowed to return to the Avengers on a probationary basis - until Thor finally arrives with news of Thanos' impending arrival.

Only Percy happens to be visiting when Thor arrives and the Avengers naturally have questions after Thor addresses him as Prince Perseus.

The truth of Percy's identity comes out in fits and starts (demigod son of Poseidon, saved the world a couple times, ascended to become God of Heroes, Natural Disasters, and Poison as well as Patron God of New York City; has been dating Apollo since he was fourteen; yes, is actually a social worker, albeit one who takes cases across the country to protect demigods and Enhanced), which is not helped by Thor (who can't help but comment on what he knows of Percy's heroics) or Apollo (who shows up after Percy texts an SOS but can't help but talk up his boyfriend either.)

The Infinity War still happens, albeit rather differently than in canon - perhaps Thanos turns out to be a disgruntled child or sibling of Gaia out for revenge, justifying Greek/Roman interference? But the details don't really matter as much as the identity reveal.

And... that's really all I have with regards to plot. But there should be a lot of character moments leading up to the reveal that hint at who Percy really is but which don't form a coherent narrative until the truth is revealed.

Bonuses include:

The softest, fluffiest romance possible for Apollo and Percy, with the pair more or less falling head over heels at first sight at the start of TTC, having their first kiss at the party at the end of the book, and dating throughout the rest of the Titan War. Apollo goes absolutely batshit insane when Percy goes missing at the start of HOO and breaks out of Olympus to crash the Senate meeting at the end of SoN and check on his boyfriend, and eventually gets made mortal for helping too much during the Giant War. The broad strokes of ToA occur with Percy fighting at his now-mortal boyfriend's side, and Percy ascends to godhood when Apollo regains his. There's some tension (Zeus is not happy about his firstborn son's choice of lover, fearing overthrow; Poseidon fears Apollo will end up breaking Percy's heart, but softens after Percy ascends and his chance of becoming a flower diminishes; many CHB campers think Percy's mad for dating a god, etc) but for the most part it should be as fluffy as circumstances allow.

Percy having been really obvious about his background, but in ways that seem reasonable ("How did you meet your boyfriend?" "I was at a really bad party when a friend ended up calling her brother to pick us up early. I fell in love with his car and then with him.") or like jokes ("Those sea turtles really seem to like you." "I like them too." "I guess they're kind of cute." "Excellent conversationalists too.") until the full truth comes out; and

Thor attempting to make up for blowing Percy's cover in dramatic (and hilarious) ways. This should include the gift of at least one native Asgardian water plant ("Dude, have you never heard of invasive species?") and end in a bakery's worth of Asgardian baked goods.

And that's all I have, though given the way this has been living rent-free in my head all week there may be more. As always feel free to adopt this bun, just link back if you do anything with it.

More PJO Ideas | More Terrible Fic Ideas

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unityrain24 · 6 months

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ok so one thing i'd like to see in a fic (and plan on putting in mine) is like...

so you know how tom hiddleston has played loki for like a decade. obviously he has aged, he's gotten some wrinkles, hairline receded just a little bit, etc etc, which isn't a bad thing, aging is normal. Especially in that span of time.

But loki himself is a being that would live thousands of years. Even though he does age, the amount of physical aging that tom hiddleston underwent in like a decade would probably happen over the course of several centuries for loki. But even so, you see loki age physically throughout the films, because tom does (and obviously editing tom and chris to look the same age over that many years would probably be offensive and also be a lot of extra work)

So one thing i'd love to see in a fic is like... recognizing that loki is physically aging way faster than he should. Is it all the stress he's been under from thor's coronation + torture + being on the run from thanos? Is it the effects of malnutrition? Did Thanos/The Black Order take advantage of how time is funky in space, and so even though Loki was missing for only a year, perhaps he was tortured/kept aboard The Sanctuary for several years?

And what would Loki think of this? For the context of my fic, Loki basically got resurrected a bit after Infinity War, so he would really be around to see how much his physical appearance has aged. And loki is obviously someone who cares about how he looks, i imagine he would be very self-conscious (maybe even like paranoid) of how he now looks and be sort of desperate to 'fix' it. And it would really add to the whole multi-faceted crisis he's going through.

anyways. yeah.

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nourrris · 2 months

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peter parker

(going off the tom holland vr! this is going to be a very long ramble about the character) i cant get over how genuinely hauntingly sad peter parker is, when the idea of peter parker was created, (to be different incomparsion of other characters), because you have a teenager superhero - it's such a good concept mind you - but god? having somebody so young have such a large role on their shoulders is insane, and it's so interesting because just the change in age literally completely fundamentally changes his characters actions and future, he'll have more impulsive decisions, extreme mental issues (which is unavoidable in his situation), and simply a very difficult time trying to navigate.

his level of severe childhood trauma (which quite literally gives you a form of brain damage) will ultimately affect his entire future and actions, he saw his uncle die at what 14? maybe younger? that itself even without the spider-man part is horrid, he never had the chance to even grieve because he was thrown into the most life changing event of his life, he also had no parents either, he has a very significant lack of figures in his life that is so hard to change how they impacted him. what happened in homecoming was the least terrifying experience he probably went through which says alot when a whole warehouse fell upon him and he was just /inches/ way from dying near the end from the vulture.

then infinity war happens next, his fight's and experiences horribly scary situations that nobody could probably even digest at such an age, or even older. and when he 'dusted' its obvious it takes a toll on him before it even happens, he could feel it, and god isn't that scary to think of? the unstoppable force of death? then fucking endgame happens, which i honestly can't even believe the fact that if i said it wasn't the worst thing that happened to him i'd be right, even though he saw somebody who he considered a 'father' figure die in his hands.

excluding that even if tony never died peter would have never recovered mentally so normally, seeing how he was beat up to hell holding that gauntlet was so fucking terrifying. he was tossed around so much and he quite literally held the most dangerous and world altering item in his hands, and if he lost it he'd have the entire world's blame on him. thats so much responsibility a newly(?) sixteen year old should never have, you cannot possibly tell me that it wouldnt literally alter his brain from the terror.

far from home is one of my favorite movie's ever but never fails to make me cry. he didn't even get the time to grieve tony, or the fact that his entire world changed in the matter of days, or the experience it was to endure the endgame fight, how can you casually go back to school after witnessing and /participating/ in the fight that could have possibly entered in the doom of the world again or bring it all back. then mysterio happens, which in my opinion is one of the absolute worst villains that peter's fought, because he was just so human. he ruined peters life completely, and he was just another human. wouldn't that make somebody so bitter? that no your life wasn't completely thrown away to shit by the big evil purple alien, but by another full human. absolutely nothing special to him power wise, not possessed, no weird voices, he did it with pure manipulation and thats one of the worst possible things i could have imagined somebody doing to him.

because peter at the end of the day was just a complete kid, mysterio made him believe he could trust him and peter did, he just lost so much in his life that somebody who could finally understand him was all he needed to feel assured, its why the significance of that one talk they both had after fury was being a dick to peter was so important, mysterio decided to go for such an emotionally devastating route it's unbelievable. but seemingly manipulating his trust wasn't enough, he just had to fuck him up so bad with that illusion scene, putting everything he loved against him and god the stark part was so fucking cruel, but after it all the part that hurt so much to watch was when happy got to him, peter questioning if he was real is so cruel. making this poor kid unable to trust his surroundings (after also being hit by a fucking train!), when he already had so much psychological issues going on is literally the cruelest fate he could have given him at the time.

and lastly no way home, and his future at that. mysterio exposing peters identity was such an irreversible decision that i honestly believe no matter what peter did, there was nothing that could give him or his loved ones the life he wanted unless if he did try to make everybody forget him. like if he originally went to the lady to re-persuade her to let his friends in it wouldnt have worked, and it also showed that much before peter ended up saving the lady in the car, all their fates were fucked and frankly there was no good way to get out of it, he was so absolutely doomed.

may parkers death was the worst of it all i think, i believe from everything that's happened to him, that absolutely nothing would affect him the way she died did. every other death of a loved one that had happened he couldn't truly take the blame for, but knowing how everything lead up to him is the most excruciatingly important detail. he canonically blames himself and i dont believe that feeling will ever end up going away. there's just no way it could, the fact he was the last person who ever saw her alive, the last person she spoke too, he quite literally saw the life drain out of her, there's no way to recover after seeing the person who's been with you for longer than you can remember die in your hands, and in the hands of your accidental actions.

i dont think there was a world were he could have escaped that death coming, peters identity being out as spider-man would have definitely done something in the future, and the problem is everything in no-way home happened in the smallest time stamp ever, i could be wrong but i believe it all went down in a few days at most, there was no way to even comprehend the absolute mental load and overwhelming amount of information being handed to him, nor do i think he'll manage to get over it easily later on either. the idea of different versions of him existing is so much to chew on, the idea of other versions of him living the happier life he could have, ones that never have the people he loves in them, ones where the people he loved are still alive, or some of them even. he even directly saw worlds where their peter parkers arent forced to be forgotten.

this version of peter lost so much that its impossible to cope with, all the peters lost alot already, like all of them didn't have parents iirc, all lost uncle ben, but the tobey and andrew spider-man had a living aunt may, then tobey's lost harry (?), and andrew lost gwen.

this version of peter parker lost both uncle and aunts, parents (of course), and tony stark. this is all just by death, he also lost his best friends, and girlfriend. they stay forever out of reach which is so tauntingly cruel. because he starts at 13/15 (pre homecoming) and by 17 (nwh) he's at the same point of all the other spider-man's started where theyre practically completely alone, or just experienced such a stark change to their lives.

my boy....... he deserves better..... sorry this is so long i had alot to say and i dont get the chance to talk about peter much and ive been recently hyperfixated on him since early feb and i love him so much and cant stop thinking or crying about him . also do tell me if i got any info wrong cause' ive only watched the tom holland trilogy, so im a bit uninformed there but did try to do some research!

#peter parker #spiderman tom holland #spiderman #marvel mcu #mysterio #tony stark #okay thats all i think...

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blueberrypancakesworld · 20 days

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Connection for eternity

Vampire Wojchek x fem!reader

warning : blood, romantic, kisses, implied murder, body worship

Summary : Had it been days, weeks months, years or even decades since the boat had come ashore since he had bitten them both. They hardly knew it anymore, but what they did know was that their love remained as it was that night and for all eternity.

Info : Wow another work for our dear sailor I had this idea and wanted to realize it because I think he can be a pretty romantic guy…if he wants to ;) So have fun reading

gif by me (I started trying to make my covers myself it's something)

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Broken wood, fog and a dark night with a bloody full moon. The howling of wolves, rats prowling around and bats following you around, looking at you with their dark blood-hungry eyes. It was a night in 1893 in London, one of the cities in the world where the devil set foot on land and would spill death and blood in the coming nights…together or rather with his descendants.

He had driven his fangs into the necks and veins of the crew, killing and tearing them all apart, mixing the blood with the rain and recoloring the wood. It was a night when Dracula went off the ship and in the fog of the night, unnoticed by the onlookers and policemen, the first mate and a female passenger went off the ship.

In the reports they were "lost" on board but what had happened…what had happened over the years? Too much it seemed because when her eyes opened again she understood what had happened, she understood what was true and she also understood that in this nightmare of infinity the new century had opened, decades seemed to have passed.

He had called it ,,The century of the first world war" and she could still feel his warm hand on hers where he had touched her after they met.

But now, as her milky white eyes turned to the full moon, she felt the bite on her neck again where he had bitten her decades ago. ,,It seems he's not the only one back," she remarked as she heard the footsteps, the flapping of the mists and the howling of the wolves.

There were two monsters out that night, one who had been preying on the population, longing for the new world since his time was long gone.

But the other "vampire" he was here had come to the present had finally come back to her had returned to his heart to his only warm spot in this cold world.

The mighty wooden door opened and she only had to turn around to see her darling already standing in the doorway, a soft smile on his pale lips under which his fangs were hidden.

The pale skin, the veins and arteries and above all the wings hidden under the aristocratic clothing that now looked old and no longer modern.

,,You're back, my love," she stated the obvious firmly, suppressed the quick movement and walked towards him normally, trying to show him in "everyday life" that they were still mortal, that they still had a chance for forgiveness…even if they were already in the middle of hell. Wojchek nodded and put the basket on the table where she had already placed the tea service.

White old porcelain, considered valuable only by the old ones, was a beautiful reminder for the two of them of the day they had breakfast together on the Demeter on a reasonably sunny morning as a secret without the crew knowing.

,,Was it nice outside? Easy to get?" she asked, moving to the wooden chair, which was suddenly pulled back slightly as the black-haired man eased her into her seat, for which she gave him a stern look.

Her pale eyes met his once dark and vivid ones before he pulled several bottles, vials and jugs from the basket made of glass containing the dark viscous liquid she could feel the warmth behind the glass. As if the animal, the human and the poor half-volunteers were still alive and here.

Dark only the moon it's easy…but there seems to be caution in the air" he replied after a moment of wondering if he should give his love the care as he reached for the jug and took her cup pouring the blood slowly into it and his wife swallowed involuntarily as her throat felt raw, dry and hungry.

The need flashed in her eyes and she wanted to sink her fangs into a piece of meat before she suddenly felt his warm hand on hers. ,,Together as always, my heart," he reminded her, a hint of a smile on his usually full face, which she waved away with an embarrassed smile and nervously yet dnakably placed the cup on the plate, waiting for him to pour himself a cup before lifting it.

,,Enjoy it, my hunter," she teased him and heard the amused grin before the cups clinked lightly together and they both took a sip each.

The warm blood first stained her lips, then her tongue and finally her throat warm, full of life and better, tastier than anything they had ever tasted in their dead existence.

A moment of pleasure in which they closed their eyes, a light color returned to their skin, their lips no longer bloodless, their cheeks no longer pale and slightly sunken.

They both became the image of life again. ,,You've never looked more beautiful," he commented suddenly, setting his cup down before placing his hand on her cheek, she nestled against him, putting her own cup down and they both enjoyed the moment that had opened up for them.

,,And you've never hunted better," she winked slightly and now heard the laughter as he told her all the things he'd seen at night and when he'd met, the moon accompanying him even if it was her he was thinking of, the one who accompanied him as a field mouse from time to time and her warm embrace, her warm body was the reward he needed for the infinite time when he came back.

After a moment of looking at him, she rose to the great feast and went out to look at the moon, the sleepy city, the feeling of him and the past. A blink later she felt him behind her, warm hands on her like his lips kissing her fingers one by one she knew he needed it she needed it as a point that he hadn't completely died yet.

,,My beauty, my wondrous woman of infinity," he murmured between kisses as he kissed his way up her arms, playing with the strands of her hair gently, almost reverently, over the bite mark, her trembling disappearing with kisses and gestures before her own hands came to rest on his body.

Warm hands running over his body the bite wound that seemed so much more gruesome than hers, "Such a brave man" she commented feeling him relax as she remembered her letting go of him and he relaxed she placed her hands on his cheeks and pulled him into a grateful kiss.

A kiss drenched in blood and love under the moon that shone on her through the window, Wojchek pulled her closer holding her close in this resilient and yet fragile body….unaware that the beastly old bat had never let them both out of his sight, that the rapier was just waiting to strike at the right moment and extinguish the love he was never meant to have.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@deliri-yum22 , @oceansrose2002 , @thecrossbowkillerr , @minilev , @mask-knife-is-buggys-girl

#the last voyage of the demeter #tlvotd #the last voyage of the demeter wojchek #wojchek x reader #david dastmalchian

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bimbo-ho · 5 months

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random true crime facts pt.1

Doing this by people/events.

Don’t @ me ik since of these are basically knowledge

Ted Kaczynski

- Is a Gemini, born may 22nd, 1942

- smelled like spoiled milk

- Unabomber=university and airline bomber

- graduated high school and Went to Harvard at 15

- graduated at 25

- Suspected to be apart of MK ultra

- iq of 167

- youngest professor to be hired at the University of Californian at Berkeley

- Left the university in 1969

- After seeing several of his favorite spots bulldozed or paved over, he started his first foray into ecoterrorism with small acts of defiance against the local developers (real asf)

- all Construction of the bomb was done by hand, no power tools were involved and made the tools he needed by hand

- His case reached the FBI’s desk in 1979, when he placed a bomb in the cargo hold of a commercial airplane

- the airplane bomb didn’t go off

- John Hauser received a bomb containing makeshift shrapnel and died from his injuries.

- had a cool off period and only sent one device between 1986 and 1993

- 1993 killed his second victim

- Was the most expensive cases in FBI history

- the manifesto was published on September 19 and with an appeal for tips

- Where in the manifesto he talked about the consequences of the industrial revolution that have divorced humans from their natural environment and laid out his solution, calling for the inevitable revolution of the people against the technology taking over their lives and a return to primitive life

- His brother thought it was him who wrote the manifesto because kazynski wrote “You can’t eat your cake and have it too” instead of “you can’t have your cake and eat it too”

- David hired a private investigator to gather evidence and compile a dossier that was turned over to the authorities in February of 1996

- Although his lawyers urged him to plead insanity to avoid facing the death penalty, he refused to do so

Richard Ramirez

- A Pisces born on a leap year. February 29th, 1960

- after he was knocked unconscious by a swing at age 5, he began experiencing epileptic fits

- Ramirez smelled like wet leather

- Youngest of 5 children

- Parents were Mexican immigrants

- when he was 12 years old, a cousin who was a Vietnam war veteran showed him pictures of Vietnamese women he had allegedly raped, tortured, and killed

- The following year witnessed the same cousin fatally shoot his wife

- Slept in the cemetery to avoid the abuse of his dad

- Was first called “the walk in killer” and “the screen door intruder”

- Was not the original night stalker

- Loved AC/DC favourite song was the night prowler

- Stabbed a women with a butter knife

- Stomped a women to death left a shoe imprint on her face

- Left his AC/DC hat at the scene of one of his crimes

- A juror Phyllis Singletary, did not show up at the courtroom and was found shot in her apartment

- Ramirez Threatened to Shoot His Prosecutor

Jeffrey dahmer

- Is a Gemini born May 21st, 1960

- To Lionel dahmer a chemist, hard worker and achiever and Joyce dahmer

- Mother was in 20+ medication

- Had a history of injuries as a child

- Had to wear lifts on his shoes when he was six, had to wear casts on his legs for four months, treated for an ear infection, got pneumonia, started developing a hernia had an operation to fix it when he was six

- Was never the same after the hernia surgery his dad said he seemed smaller, more vulnerable, he grew more inwards, sitting quietly for long periods, not stirring and emotionless

- They let Jeffrey name his little brother and he named him David

- David has changed his name and doesn’t want to associate with Jeffrey

- Jeffrey was neglected completely when David was born

- Geographically isolated from everyone else in the town

- At six he started collecting road kill and dead animals

- It’s alleged that he was sexually assaulted at this time Lionel and Jeffrey said it’s not true

- Would play infinity land, was extremely complicated, they’re were sticks that represented men and the “men” disappear one by one in a vortex - He did have afew friends

- They would play “ghost in the graveyard”

- He took the remains of a fetal pig home and kept the skeleton in grade 9, starting branching out killing dogs and cats. All he knew was he wanted to see what the insides looked like

- Would show up to high school drunk and Was once asked what was in his water bottle that was filled with alcohol and he responded with “this is my medicine”

- Was obsessed with a jogger as a teenager and planned to attack him with a bat but the day he planned to the jogger didn’t show up

- started heavily drinking at 14

- had a dead body in his bed when the police gave him his 14 year old victim back

- Showered ontop of decomposing bodies in his apartment

- “only killed the pretty ones”

- worked at a chocolate factory and stored severed heads in his locker

- got fired from the chocolate factory cuz he smelled so bad

- police smelled his apartment at first and said it didn’t smell like human decomposition but shit

#tcc columbine #tcc tumblr #tccblr #truecrime #killers #ted kaczynski #Jeffrey dahmer #dahmer #richard rameriz #the night stalker #night stalker #unabomber #tcc

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violetsaffron5 · 1 year

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Infinity

11 | Distress

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x f!Reader

Going on a mission with Nanami after breaking things off with Gojo doesn't go according to plan.

words: 4362

cw: canon typical violence

“It’s a suspected Vengeful Spirit. The area has been evacuated and the site sealed off. All citizens within a 500 meter radius have been evacuated. According to our investigation, there are several smaller lower grade curses running amok, grouping together as well.”

“Typically a sorcerer on par with this level of curse would handle it, but since Gojo and Geto are away on business, we’ve been called in to investigate.” Nanami states, adjusting his glasses as Ijichi walks towards you.

“We are often short handed, as I’m sure you’ve been made aware at this point, so taking on missions beyond your expertise is not abnormal, however, there is a chance the potential Vengeful Spirit is Special Grade, so take care and good luck.”

Your lips form a thin line, having a bad feeling about what’s about to come next. You can’t quite place the feeling of uneasiness you have, though it could easily be attributed to multiple factors regarding the curse: the strength and the fact that it’s been capturing women and young girls without anyone having done anything about it up to this point.

On top of all that, you’ve had some heartburn about breaking things off with Satoru in the way that you did a few weeks ago, wondering if you look like a horrible person due to his kids being the straw that broke the camel's back.

It’s not really a problem that he has kids, it’s not something you ever really put thought into for yourself, never entertained the idea given your abilities and lack of being able to maintain a normal healthy relationship.

You groan to yourself and take a deep breath, wondering why you’re worrying about any of this anyway. It’s not like he has to tell you anything about his life, and the fact that you opened up to him is on you, he never forced you, so really, you shouldn’t have that expectation of him to do the same.

And because of that, there’s no real reason for him to tell you he has kids. It’s not like you’re dating and need to know the ins and outs of his life and what he does on his own time for the health of your relationship.

But still, as friends you would have appreciated knowing at least some things when it comes to him.

“Emerge from the darkness, blacker than darkness. Purify that which is impure.”

Ijichi lowering the veil around the abandoned subway station snaps you out of your thoughts, and you chew on the side of your cheek as you watch the cloak of darkness surround the street and nearest buildings to where you’re standing. Looking out of the curtain, the now familiar kaleidoscope effect impedes your view of seeing Ijichi and the car that brought you here.

Taking a deep breath, you turn and stand face to face with Nanami who’s adjusting his glasses, watching you intently.

“We believe the curse is the Vengeful Spirit of Reiko Kashima,” you nod your head, unsure of what that really means for you, “there have been several similar curses that have popped up over the years, based on fear of various tales of her. Though it appears this one could be the real deal.”

Nanami tells you there are numerous popular stories in which she is the main star, it depends on who is telling the story and where you are in the world that will determine which variation you hear. He isn’t sure of which one is true himself, but he does tell you the most popular version takes place after World War 2. Apparently American soldiers did unspeakable things to this girl, things Nanami refused to provide details for, but the end result was her throwing herself onto the track of an oncoming train, now taking the lives of others as her revenge.

“Your job during this mission is to go into the bathroom and wait. If this is the real spirit, she will appear to whoever is alone in one of the stalls. She will ask you a series of questions, if you answer any of them wrong, she will dismember you. Simple as that.”

“Great. No pressure at all. Love that for me.” You mutter under your breath, less than thrilled about being bait on a mission once again.

Nanami makes you go over the questions she’s been known to ask several times, phrasing them in different ways so as to not catch you off guard. When he’s convinced you have a handle on the answers he instructs you to text him, it doesn’t matter what it is, anything will do and he will come in and assist with fighting the curse.

Despite having both you and Nanami on the scene today, there are several other sorcerers with you, all of whom you’re unfamiliar with, and who Nanami instructs to go seek out the other lower level curses and exorcise them until the time comes to join up with the two of you.

“Why do we have to come here when Gojo or Geto should be the ones handling this?” One of the sorcerers whispers to another.

“It’s more of a matter of when someone would be able to make it out to handle this case,” Nanami interrupts their sly conversation, “Geto has been picking up more missions and hasn’t made it to this one yet, while Gojo has been taking the evenings off the last few months for personal reasons. Regardless, we are here now, so let’s get this over with.”

A wave of guilt washes over your body at Nanami’s words because the reason Satoru has been taking time off is because of you, and it’s clear the other sorcerers know that too, despite not voicing it, with the way they look over at you quickly before nodding their head to Nanami and moving on with their portion of the mission.

No matter the circumstance, whether it be directly from you or not, it seems people are still going to get hurt, an indirect result of your existence that makes your stomach sour.

Nanami looks you over before sighing quietly when he sees the way your shoulders sag slightly at his comment and their gaze, “he’s going to make his own choices. Try not to let that get you down.”

Pursing your lips into a thin line, you nod. He’s right, there isn’t a reason to let someone else's decisions bother you, especially now. Just like how you can’t expect Satoru to tell you all the aspects of his life, you can’t force him to do something he doesn’t want to do, after all.

Walking down the steps to access the subway lines, you’re met with a warped view of the terminals. The walls are covered in windows that are so dark and distorted you’re unable to see through them, not that they would have a view to anything aside from a brick wall down here anyway. There are doors hanging off ledges, in the middle of aisle ways, stairs leading up to the ceiling with nowhere to go beyond that.

“Interesting. This domain appears to be incomplete.” Nanami states looking around at the sight.

Complete or not, you know your mission so you begin opening each door you see, trying to find the one that leads to the restroom where you’re supposed to spend your evening as the other sorcerers frolic away to deal with the other curses hanging around.

Checking all of the doors that line the wall, you’re met with dead ends on each and everyone of them. You do eventually find the one you’re looking for, which leads to the bathroom. A door that is near the tracks of the train, not nestled into the wall to hold it up, just out in the open all on its own - perhaps it makes sense, based off the story Nanami told you earlier, and perhaps logically speaking, the lone door next to the tracks without a structure to support it should have been the one you checked first.

The bathroom is in immaculate condition, certainly not one you would expect from a subway terminal in the least, but the tile on the floor is shiny, and the sinks are pristine as you walk in. It doesn’t even smell, which is a blessing in and of itself.

Turning to Nanami you nod your head before closing the door behind you and making your way to one of the stalls. He didn’t specify if you need to pick any one of them in particular so you go into the middle one and lock the door behind you.

Unsure of really what to do with your time now, you sit on the toilet and cross your legs, bouncing the top one as you lean back and wait.

You contemplate texting Nanami to cure the boredom that washes over you, but ultimately decide against it. If he gets anything from you, he’s going to expect it to relate to the curse you’re waiting for, and if it’s anything other than that, he’ll be annoyed with you.

Texting him regardless would be such a Satoru thing to do too which makes you laugh quietly to yourself.

Thinking about Satoru causes the familiar twinge of hunger to present itself in the depths of your core. It’s been a few weeks since the two of you have been together, and you’re well aware that once you begin to feel the hunger, it will quickly get to the point where you’ll need to feed, no matter how long you try to stave it off.

He has tried to contact you several times to talk about why you left that day, says he wants to explain things, that finding the kids stuff isn’t what you’re assuming.

No matter what it was you assumed, there’s still other reasons why you walked away that day, reasons he’s yet to acknowledge.

You’ve been avoiding him, in the halls of the school, not answering his texts or calls, you’ve even managed to skirt your missions with him and accompany Nanami more, which is how you found yourself on this mission today. Of course, when you’re around him, you’re civil, you just do your best to cut any conversation short and make sure you don’t end up with him alone to where he can back you into a corner and make you talk before you’re ready.

You know you will end up going to him - you do have to feed to survive after all. You’re just not ready for that yet, but you’re quickly going to have to make peace with that soon.

Trilling your lips, you hum before standing, stretching out your muscles. Being in the bathroom is so incredibly boring. You should have brought some light reading material with you, anything really so you wouldn’t be waiting around thinking about Satoru so much.

Checking the time on your phone, it’s easily been 30 minutes without a damn thing happening. Of course with curses, there’s no guarantee when they’ll show up, so you’re really on it’s time rather than it being on yours.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are. Stupid curse.” You mutter to yourself. There are no instructions on how to draw the curse out - sometimes taunting them seems to work, at least for Satoru.

Lighting the display on your phone, you check the time once again, though it’s only been a few minutes since you had last checked, you decide to turn around, and get ready to sit on the floor with your back against the stall door, just to be in a different position than what you’ve been in for the last little while.

As soon as your back is facing the stall door you smell a mixture of rotting flesh, blood and burnt electronics. Similar to the curse Satoru first had you fight.

The hair on your body stands straight as a board, a shiver running down your spine at the overwhelmingly dark, sinister presence looming over your shoulder. It’s as if all the air around you has been sucked away, no longer able to breathe, no longer able to even think.

There’s a series of raspy groans behind you, but you don’t have the courage to even dare to turn around and face what’s behind you right now.

You decide at this moment you’re not cut out for this life, not cut out for being bait for missions and especially not curses. It’ll be easy for you to pack up your things and move, there’s nothing here really tying you down here anyway.

Even if the thought causes a lump to form in your throat, and tears to prick in the corner of your eyes.

You can’t bring yourself to look away from your phone, the time on the display staring back, but no longer comprehending what it says as the Vengeful Spirit of Reiko Kashima gasps. You should be texting Nanami right now, as you answer her questions, so he can come in and assist, but you’re unable to move, paralyzed with fear.

“Where are my legs?” She asks, voice strained, choppy and hoarse causing the hair on the back of your neck to rise.

“Shit, um,” you’re scrambling to remember the answers to her questions, wishing you had taken the time to write them down when Nanami reviewed them with you, but you didn’t expect her presence to be so overwhelming, “at Meishin Expressway?”

She hums, it’s a broken sound, mixed with a groan that makes your heart thump so erratically you wouldn’t be surprised if you could see the palpitations from your chest.

“Who told you that?”

Your stomach churns with fear, a sour feeling presenting itself that makes you queasy, palms beginning to sweat so you grip your phone a little tighter as you swallow thickly.

“Reiko Kashima did.” You manage to answer quietly, eyes glued to your phone lock screen reflecting back your image with pure terror in your eyes.

There’s a deep, labored breath from behind you, though you suppose that’s to be the case when you’re missing your entire lower half. What a poor gruesome life this curse lives.

“Give me your arms.” She states, and you briefly wonder why she would want them, when she already has her own.

“I-I’m still using them.”

You tick your head towards your shoulder - you could swear you felt her breath on your ear, a cold chill running from the top of your head to the tips of your toes. You have no idea where she is behind you, in the same stall or outside it, with the way her voice echoes off the wall, it’s hard to place.

Your phone dings, a text from Satoru appears on the display, the phone screen having locked several minutes prior when the curse appeared to you. Why couldn’t he have messaged you before the curse showed up? You probably would have given in and answered.

Satoru: I know you’re pissed but you need to feed soon.

“Give me your legs.” The curse croaks out.

“Um, no. I’m, uh, I’m still using- I still need those.” You correct the answer before finishing your sentence, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath trying to concentrate on the matter at hand.

But your mind is racing a thousand miles per second, about the curse seemingly behind you and what you’re supposed to say, and Satoru texting you. He knows you’re on a mission with Nanami because he wasn’t able to come do this one. Satoru has been so adamant you learn to deal with distractions, yet he’s clearly never thought of himself as one.

“What’s my name?” Your phone dings again with another message from Satoru, and had you been paying attention, you would have heard the slight snicker in the curses voice.

Satoru: We don’t have to talk about anything if you’re not up for it yet. Just let me help with what I can.

“Reiko Kashima.” Your eyes widen at your answer, “No nonononono, I mean, the masked demon of death-”

It’s too late because you’re being hurled into and through the brick wall of the bathroom stall in front of you with a nauseatingly intense force that has your head throbbing when you finally hit another wall on the opposite side of the subway station, coming to a complete stop.

You gasp when the wind is knocked out of your lungs on impact and there’s a searing, shooting pain on the left side of your body followed by the feeling of warm liquid pooling and dripping down your arm, chest and stomach.

Your head bobs, eyes half lidded, you don’t bother looking down to see what’s impaled you, certainly not a sight you want to see, should it be your last.

It’s hard to focus, eyesight foggy, brain hazy, unable to move. There’s a ringing in your ear, and you think maybe you can hear your name being called, but you can’t be quite sure.

You try to take a breath, but your lungs feel heavy and full, and the pain to your left shoots through your body once again. So you take low shallow breaths instead.

There’s a figure in front of you. A girl with long, stringy black hair that looks like she just crawled out of a well, no legs, wide eyes and a grin that’s too large for her face, looking like the sides have been cut up to her cheek, crawling towards you. Arms resembling a spider, too long for the rest of her half body and looking like one moves her limbs to inch closer and closer to you.

It’s hard to concentrate on that, knowing this is the end, so you lay your head back against the wall as it all fades to black.

Nanami stands with his back pressed against the wall, opposite of the door you walked through, waiting on your text to signal him to enter the room. It’s taking longer than anticipated which is disheartening.

So much for a long, relaxing evening at home.

He debates grabbing his phone to check his notifications, confirming he hasn’t missed anything coming in from you. Normally not one to worry about checking his devices frequently and just waiting for the vibrate of his phone in his pocket, but with you it’s different.

Because he knows Gojo would burn the world to ash if anything ever happened to you.

Clenching his jaw, he folds his arms and leans back against the wall, closing his eyes, there’s no point in checking for a notification when he knows nothing has come in from you yet anyway.

As soon as his eyes close an ear splitting scream can be heard to the right before the wall down the hall bursts open with you flying through it, the wall crumbling and falling down. He uses his elbow to shield his nose and mouth waiting for the dust to settle. He hears the moment you make impact with the wall that stops your momentum, the crack of bones breaking due to the force.

A sickening cackle can be heard before a girl with long legs comes crawling out of the hole it created. Without wasting any time, Nanami wraps his tie around his hand, grabbing his blade from the holster on his back and pushing the curse back several feet with his cursed technique.

It’s definitely Special Grade, and he won't be able to kill it himself, due to lack of time, needing to check to see if you’re still alive, and he will need the other sorcerers to come back and assist before any real damage can be done. It shouldn’t take them long, they will have heard the explosion from the wall and will make their way back to assist at any moment.

For now, the curse is pushed back enough, that without its legs it will take some time to crawl and make its way back over to where you are, even with its extraordinarily long arms.

Taking a deep breath, Nanami puts his blade away before rushing over to where you finally stopped, seeing the bruises that are already blooming on your skin, your uniform tattered and ripped. There are pipes impaling several parts of your body, a strong scent of copper filling the air with the blood that seeps out from the wounds.

As he makes his way over to you, he sees the way you roll your head, body twitching a few times but he’s unsure if you’re still alive or if these are your final moments, either way, his hand is already in his pocket, pulling out his phone to reach out to Gojo for assistance.

“Hey, Nanamin~” Gojo sings as he picks up the phone. There’s some static on the other end, indicating he’s either in a cave or in the process of fighting a few curses. Either are likely knowing him.

Nanami says your name slowly, with a deep sigh at the end, catching Gojo’s attention. “She’s hurt. Severely. I thought you should know since- well, you know her abilities better than anyone else.”

“Call Shoko. I’m on my way.”

Nanami adjusts his glasses, staring at the sight before him as he places his phone back in his pocket. He needs to check your pulse before calling Shoko, he’s nothing, if not prepared, even in a crisis. This is certainly information she’ll need to know.

Moving towards your limp body, impaled by several jagged metal pipes starting at your shoulder, down to the side of your stomach and even one through your thigh, Nanami sighs.

Just as he reaches his hand out for your neck, to check your pulse point, you stir, adjusting slightly, but unable to move much due to the objects you’re impaled on. When his fingers make contact with your neck, your eyes flutter open slowly, glassy, unfocused, rasping out his name as well as you can.

You’re alive. For now at least.

“Try not to move. I’ve called Gojo, and I’m getting ready to call Shoko.” Nanami states, retracting his hand to pull his phone from his pocket once again.

You groan, reaching forward, grabbing him by his shirt, using it to pull yourself out and away from the wall. Nanami places his hands gently on your hips, away from any of the visible cuts, wounds and gashes he can see, holding you still.

“You need to stay in place. Those could be keeping you alive-”

You pull yourself towards him with a grimace and a loud groan from the pain, no longer attached to the wall, but most definitely bleeding out. As each wound begins oozing out blood, your lips attach to his.

He knows of your abilities, how you survive, how you heal from Satoru’s too detailed reports.

What he didn’t expect was how soft and plush your lips would be, moving them against his, your tongue gliding against his, the soft whimpers and groans you make as you pull your body in closer to his, staining his clothes with your blood.

Nanami gasps, eyes wide staring at you through his glasses, when you move a hand to his hair, gripping as tight as you’re able before pulling away.

Satoru arrives within a few minutes of hanging up the phone with Nanami, witnessing a sight he wasn’t expecting.

First, the curse is still alive crawling in your direction. It looks over at him and shrieks before trying to scramble back into the hole it just appeared from. In no mood to play, Satoru sends a wave of his cursed energy at it, easily ripping it to shreds, hearing its wails as it burns and dissipates into nothingness.

Your clothes are tattered, ripped and bloodied, but your lips are also latched to Nanami’s while his large hands are cemented on your hips, gripping at your waist.

Not even trying to move you away.

Satoru feathers his jaw as he watches you pull away, draining Nanami in the process, the familiar trail of energy leaving Nanami’s body and entering your own. Which Satoru had been on the receiving end of for months.

He’s all too familiar with this, as he stands off to the side, watching you kiss another one of his friends, use your abilities on another person he’s close to. Neither of you move away as your lips slot together so easily once again.

Almost as if this isn’t the first time.

And you don’t stop with Satoru’s arrival. As far as the two of you seem to be concerned, he might as well not be standing there watching what’s happening at the moment.

Satoru watches intently, eyes flickering over you and Nanami as quickly as he possibly can. You still have scraps, bruises, open wounds littering your body despite the amount you're siphoning - whatever happened, your internal wounds must be extensive if it’s taking this long for you to heal.

Nanami on the other hand looks more and more tired by the second, slouching into your touch as you continue to pull from him - too much, Satoru determines. You’re taking too much and he knew this would happen eventually, tried to tell you, but you wouldn’t listen.

Satoru’s by your side in a matter of seconds, grabbing your hand from Nanami’s shirt and gently loosening your grip. Once he’s successfully wrestled your hand from Nanami’s blonde locks, Satoru pulls you into his chest.

Nanami stumbles backwards with a few jagged coughs, breathing deeply several times trying to catch his breath as he rests his hands on his knees.

“Just worry about her.” Nanami rasps before collapsing to the ground in exhaustion, “I’ll get to Shoko soon.”

Satoru’s eyes flicker over your face, you’re really in no state to try and heal yourself, even if he were to take Nanami’s place, it could be detrimental to him as well, since this is uncharted territory, even for you.

Your brows furrow, eyes adjust and try to refocus but it’s no use, like you want to say something to Satoru, but instead, your eyes roll to the back of your head before collapsing into his arms.

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galactic-magick · 11 months

Note

Hey! Can I request an 2014!gamora imagine with the prompts Instinctively grabbing your/their hand and forgetting to let go and “I’ve tried to stop missing you.” (Or prompts 2 and 23)

She’s Back: Gamora x Reader

Summary: Before Gamora joined the Guardians, she was in a relationship with you. Now that the version of her that you knew is back, you struggle with your feelings.

Words: 0.6k+

Author’s Notes: Sorry it’s taken so long for me to write this one, anon! I was struggling to come up with a good plot that wasn’t just copying how Peter was missing Gamora but I think I finally figured out something interesting!

You were surprised to hear anything about Gamora after so long.

Honestly, you didn’t even know if she was alive until Nebula contacted you. She left on a mission for her father all those years ago, and without a second thought for you she moved on to a new life with the Guardians of the Galaxy. You’ve heard bits of news here and there about these Guardians over the years, and then most of them were snapped away. You had no idea if Gamora had survived this war for the infinity stones—until now.

Nebula contacted you recently to tell you that Gamora did in fact die by the hand of Thanos five years ago, but an alternate version of her from the time you knew her somehow survived due to some time-travel nonsense you didn’t really understand. This Gamora has been asking about you apparently, likely because this one never left you and never met the Guardians, and most importantly never fell in love with somebody else.

You honestly aren’t sure how to react to this news, or even how someone is supposed to react to something like this. After all, you’ve been spending over five years mourning and moving on from that relationship. Should you take her back just because in her mind you never broke up? Should you ignore Nebula’s message and just pretend you have no idea your former lover is still out there?

You try the latter first for a while, but you can’t get her out of your head. Your dreams are haunted by her beautiful face and the memories you shared so long ago, questions of what could’ve been and what could be now that she’s back.

One of these nights you can’t take it anymore, so you send Nebula a message that you want to see Gamora for yourself. She sends you the coordinates to where the Guardians’ ship is intercepting with the Ravager ship Gamora is on, and you go on your way, anxiety-ridden the entire ride.

It’s probably not the best time to do this, as one of the Guardians is on his deathbed and Gamora is only temporarily joining them for a mission to save him, but if you don’t go now, you’re worried you won’t have another chance.

You sneak onto the ship, standing back while the Guardians are freaking out about the Ravagers boarding. Did Nebula not tell them they were coming?

You watch Nebula pull the captain aside and explain to him why Gamora’s here, and mentions that you’ll be coming too—a fact he doesn’t seem too happy about. You put together pretty quickly that this must be the guy Gamora fell for after you. Honestly, you don’t have anything against him, and you understand how he feels. He never knew about you, and his version of Gamora died a horrible death. You know exactly what it’s like to have her gone, and it’s going to be severely complicated now that she’s back.

You slowly come out into the hallway, making eye contact with each of the Guardians one by one, and finally locking eyes with Gamora.

Just as perfect as you remember.

She stares at you, mouth parting slightly in disbelief then morphing into a smile.

“Y/N?” she says your name in the exact way you’ve been wanting to hear it for so long. “You look different,”

“You look the same,” you reply with a laugh.

She takes a step towards you, instinctively grabbing your hands, “I don’t really understand all this, but I’m not the person all these people knew, okay? For me, being with you wasn’t that long ago. How long has it been for you?”

You look up, trying to blink away the tears welling in your eyes.

“Almost ten years,” your voice cracks. “I’ve tried to stop missing you,”

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t,” she smirks. “Because somehow I’m here now. And I’ll never leave you like my other self did, okay?”

You nod, falling into her arms and not letting go.

Another Author's Note: If ya'll enjoy this, I'd consider writing a second part that includes the other Guardian's reactions to the reader, maybe some angst between them and Peter because they're both in love with Gamora or something.

Read this to make a Guardians request!

#gamora x reader #guardians of the galaxy x reader #gotg x reader #guardians of the galaxy vol 3 #gotg 3 #gamora

123 notes · View notes

mariacallous · 1 month

Text

Whether you're a student, a journalist, or a business professional, knowing how to do high-quality research and writing using trustworthy data and sources, without giving in to the temptation of AI or ChatGPT, is a skill worth developing.

As I detail in my book Writing That Gets Noticed, locating credible databases and sources and accurately vetting information can be the difference between turning a story around quickly or getting stuck with outdated information.

For example, several years ago the editor of Parents.com asked for a hot-take reaction to country singer Carrie Underwood saying that, because she was 35, she had missed her chance at having another baby. Since I had written about getting pregnant in my forties, I knew that as long as I updated my facts and figures, and included supportive and relevant peer-reviewed research, I could pull off this story. And I did.

The story ran later that day, and it led to other assignments. Here are some tips I’ve learned that you should consider mastering before you turn to automated tools like generative AI to handle your writing work for you.

Find Statistics From Primary Sources

Identify experts, peer-reviewed research study authors, and sources who can speak with authority—and ideally, offer easily understood sound bites or statistics on the topic of your work. Great sources include professors at major universities and media spokespeople at associations and organizations.

For example, writer and author William Dameron pinned his recent essay in HuffPost Personal around a statistic from the American Heart Association on how LGBTQ people experience higher rates of heart disease based on discrimination. Although he first found the link in a secondary source (an article in The New York Times), he made sure that he checked the primary source: the original study that the American Heart Association gleaned the statistic from. He verified the information, as should any writer, because anytime a statistic is cited in a secondary source, errors can be introduced.

Dive Into Databases

Jen Malia, author of The Infinity Rainbow Club series of children’s books (whom I recently interviewed on my podcast), recently wrote a piece about dinosaur-bone hunting for Business Insider, which she covers in her book Violet and the Jurassic Land Exhibit.

After a visit to the Carnegie Museum of Natural History in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, Malia, whose books are set in Philadelphia, found multiple resources online and on the museum site that gave her the history of the Bone Wars, information on the exhibits she saw, and the scientific names of the dinosaurs she was inspired by. She also used the Library of Congress’ website, which offers digital collections and links to the Library of Congress Newspaper Collection.

Malia is a fan of searching for additional resources and citable documents with Google Scholar. “If I find that a secondary source mentions a newspaper article, I’m going to go to the original newspaper article, instead of just stopping there and quoting,” she says.

Your local public library is a great source of free information, journals, and databases (even ones that generally require a subscription and include embargoed research). For example, your search should include everything from health databases (Sage Journals, Scopus, PubMed) to databases for academic sources and journalism (American Periodical Series Online, Statista, Academic Search Premier) and databases for news, trends, market research, and polls (the Harris Poll, Pew Research Center, Newsbank, ProPublica).

Even if you find a study or paper that you can’t access in one of those databases, consider reaching out to the study’s lead author or researcher. In many cases, they’re happy to discuss their work and may even share the study with you directly and offer to talk about their research.

Get a Good Filtering System

For journalist Paulette Perhach’s article on ADHD in The New York Times, she used Epic Research to see “dual team studies.” That's when two independent teams address the same topic or question, and ideally come to the same conclusions. She recommends locating research and experts via key associations for your topic. She also likes searching via Google Scholar but advises filtering it for studies and research in recent years to avoid using old data. She suggests keeping your links and research organized. “Always be ready to be peer-reviewed yourself,” Perhach says.

When you are looking for information for a story or project, you might be inclined to start with a regular Google search. But keep in mind that the internet is full of false information, and websites that look trustworthy can sometimes turn out to be businesses or companies with a vested interest in you taking their word as objective fact without additional scrutiny. Regardless of your writing project, unreliable or biased sources are a great way to torpedo your work—and any hope of future work.

For Accuracy, Go to the Government

Author Bobbi Rebell researched her book Launching Financial Grownups using the IRS’ website. “I might say that you can contribute a certain amount to a 401K, but it might be outdated because those numbers are always changing, and it’s important to be accurate,” she says. “AI and ChatGPT can be great for idea generation,” says Rebell, “but you have to be careful. If you are using an article someone was quoted in, you don’t know if they were misquoted or quoted out of context.”

If you use AI and ChatGPT for sourcing, you not only risk introducing errors, you risk introducing plagiarism—there is a reason OpenAI, the company behind ChatGPT, is being sued for downloading information from all those books.

Historically, the Loudest Isn’t the Best

Audrey Clare Farley, who writes historical nonfiction, has used a plethora of sites for historical research, including Women Also Know History, which allows searches by expertise or area of study, and JSTOR, a digital library database that offers a number of free downloads a month. She also uses Chronicling America, a project from the Library of Congress which gathers old newspapers to show how a historical event was reported, and Newspapers.com (which you can access via free trial but requires a subscription after seven days).

When it comes to finding experts, Farley cautions against choosing the loudest voices on social media platforms. “They might not necessarily be the most authoritative. I vet them by checking if they have a history of publication on the topic, and/or educational credentials.”

When vetting an expert, look for these red flags:

You can’t find their work published or cited anywhere.

They were published in an obscure journal.

Their research is funded by a company, not a university, or they are the spokesperson for the company they are doing research for. (This makes them a public relations vehicle and not an appropriate source for journalism.)

And finally, the best endings for virtually any writing, whether it’s an essay, a research paper, an academic report, or a piece of investigative journalism, circle back to the beginning of the piece, and show your reader the transformation or the journey the piece has presented in perspective.

As always, your goal should be strong writing supported by research that makes an impact without cutting corners. Only then can you explore tools that might make the job a little easier, for instance by generating subheads or discovering a concept you might be missing—because then you'll have the experience and skills to see whether it's harming or helping your work.

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m1ckeyb3rry · 9 months

Text

Hurricanes / Hummingbirds: VI

Series Synopsis: As the years go by, you find that it is incredibly difficult to survive wars and fight storms, especially when the only thing you have by way of a cursed technique is the blessing of a tiny bird.

Chapter Synopsis: Your childhood is ended when you lose someone you never thought you would.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Hajime Kashimo x Female Reader; slight Kento Nanami x Female Reader; slight Satoru Gojo × Female Reader

Chapter Word Count: 5.6k

Content Warnings: swearing, enemies/rivals to lovers, character death, canon-typical violence, angst, gore, original characters included

A/N: the only thing i like more than creating found families is destroying them

Winding your arm back, you threw a rock the size of your fist directly at Gojo. It slowed down in the field of his Infinity, and he plucked it out of the air with a wide grin.

“It looks like it’s working pretty well,” you said. A little less than a year after the events with the Star Plasma Vessel and Hinode’s death, in the heat of the late summer sun, Gojo had finally mastered his Infinity.

“Try your technique on me,” he said. “Let’s see if it can defend against that.”

“Sure,” you agreed readily. “Do you want me to just punch, or should I use the Sword of Syrinx?”

“Might as well use the sword. I know how attached to it you are. You probably couldn’t even take a shit without its help,” he said.

“Very funny,” you said, drawing your sword and activating your technique.

Would you like to use the Hummingbird’s Blessing?

You have been given the Speed of the Hummingbird!

You have been given the G-Force Resistance of the Hummingbird!

You have been given the Maneuverability of the Hummingbird!

As Gojo had worked to improve his control of the Infinity, you had pushed your mastery of your technique. It meant that you had spent much of your time in torpor, recovering energy spent from training too hard, but it was a sacrifice you were willing to make. You would not be caught off-guard again; you refused to let anyone else die the way Hinode had.

Cursed energy coursed through your veins as you appeared by the motionless Gojo, moving too fast for a normal person to quite comprehend, though it was still nowhere near the top speed you could reach with the Hummingbird’s Blessing active.

You have been given the Dive Power of the Hummingbird!

At the last moment, you used the power in your legs to jump into the air, twisting around so that you could imbue the Dive Power of the Hummingbird into your sword as you brought it down on Gojo. If your strike connected, it would have enough force behind it to not only cut through his entire body but also several feet of rock beneath him.

Just like the stone had, however, you grew impossibly slow as you reached Gojo, the sword almost reaching him but never quite making contact. Dropping to the ground with a thud, you cancelled the technique.

You will now enter the Torpor of the Hummingbird.

You swayed in place. Gojo turned off his Infinity so that you could hold onto his arm, your eyelids drooping as you entered torpor. The familiar blackness took over, but it was more like a blink, passing in a flash. Almost as soon as it came, it was gone again.

“How much time passed?” you said.

“Two minutes,” he said.

“Not bad!” you said.

“And my Infinity is working exactly as it should, even though I haven’t turned it off in so long that it should be completely burnt out by now,” he said.

“Nice,” you said, raising your hand for a high five. He slapped his palm against yours.

“I just have to get my Domain Expansion working without any kinks, and I should be good to exorcise any curse, no matter how powerful,” he said.

That was the crux of it. Satoru Gojo had become, in an unrivaled sense, the strongest. Where once at least Geto could be considered his equal, now, there was no one who could stand beside him, not in any way that mattered. There was not even anyone that could touch him, since his Infinity was all but constantly on.

“I’m sure it won’t be long,” you said as you began to walk towards the bathrooms. “You’ve been pretty quick with everything else. Even Yaga can’t shut up about it.”

Masamichi Yaga was the one who had picked you up when you had arrived in Tokyo. As well, he was the second year teacher at Tokyo Jujutsu Tech, and a notoriously hard-to-impress man. He was the epitome of tough love, so the fact that he was extolling Gojo’s virtues was massively to your friend’s credit.

You no longer felt shy about referring to Gojo as such, as your friend. To be sure, you had not replaced Geto for him, and he had not replaced Haibara and Nanami for you, but it was true that in the past year, you both had become closer.

For him, it was probably because you were the only one who had the time to help him practice with his Infinity. You could not count the amount of things you had thrown at Gojo, the amount of tiny bruises you had caused to bloom on his fair skin nor the amount of minuscule cuts you had bandaged for him in the pursuit of keeping his Infinity automatically on at all times.

For you, it was the fact that he allowed you access to his family’s records. When you went back far enough, you had found one single mention of Hummingbird’s Blessing. Apparently, it was considered one of the great failures of the Gojo clan, as the single other sorcerer who had possessed it was supposed to marry into the family before her untimely death. The records never explained the technique, nor did they identify that sorcerer, so your research ended there, but the fact that the Gojos had coveted it meant that it was powerful enough.

In return for your help with his Infinity, Gojo agreed to aid you in developing Hummingbird’s Blessing, and now, you were companions; or, if not companions, then at minimum training partners. But training partners did not seem like a profound enough distinction for the easy camaraderie you two had developed, so if you ever needed to refer to him, it was only ever as friend.

“Unfortunately, I think this is where we’ll have to part,” Gojo said as you reached the bathrooms. “Unless…?”

“Get away,” you said, going to shove him but finding his Infinity blocking your attempt. He burst into laughter, wiggling his fingers in a wave as he ducked into the men’s bathroom, leaving you to roll your eyes and enter the women’s one.

The steam and the heat of the shower was good for your muscles, which were always a little sore after you used your technique, despite the restorative effects of the torpor. It was a reminder that when your technique was active, you were breaking natural laws. For the most part, your cursed energy and — if you were really pushing yourself — the Sword of Syrinx bore the brunt of the cost, but your muscles would never escape unscathed. It would be wrong if they did.

The first thing you did when you emerged from the shower was head towards the vending machines. You were in the mood to drink something, and there were some coins in the pocket of the sweatpants you had donned in favor of your uniform.

When you got there, you were met with Geto sitting on the bench and staring out the window in thought. Inserting the coins into the machine and punching in the code for the drink you wanted, you waited for it to fall down the slot and then reached in to pull it out. Popping it open, you sat down next to Geto, crossing your legs and taking a sip.

“If I asked you what you were thinking about, would you tell me?” you said. He flinched, turning to look at you in shock. There were heavy purple bags under his eyes, and his lips were cracked and dry, the hollows in his cheeks harsher than you had ever seen them. Frowning, you wondered when he had gotten like this. Or had he always been this way? You weren’t sure. You couldn’t quite picture how Geto had looked in the past anymore.

“I’m not thinking about anything,” he said. You offered him your drink; he accepted it, raising it to his lips and taking a swallow before returning it to you.

“Meditating, then?” you said.

“You could call it that,” he said. “Have you seen Satoru?”

“I was training with him earlier, and then we went to shower, so I’d assume he’s still busy with that. You know how long his routine takes him,” you said. Geto smiled, though it didn’t warm his eyes the way it used to.

“Of course,” he said.

“Did you need him for something?” you said.

“No, someone had come to talk to him, but they left already,” he said. You thought about inquiring further, but it wasn’t really your place, so you just finished off your drink, tossing the empty container in the trash can and sighing in satisfaction when it made it in.

“I should’ve joined a basketball team,” you said. “Oh, well. Sorcery is a fine second option.”

“Second option?” Geto said. “You mean, this isn’t what you really want to do?”

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye and chose not to respond. “You want a cola or something? I’ll pay.”

“It’s fine,” he said. “I’m not that thirsty, and I’d be a terrible upperclassman if I made you pay for me.”

“Alright,” you said, standing and stretching your arms out, massaging your neck ruefully. “Man, this blows.”

“What happened?” he said.

“Just training and all. Using my technique leaves me achy for a bit,” you said. Geto’s shoulders slumped, and he rested his chin in his hands.

“Why do you even keep using it, then?” he said. You thought about it for a second. You could’ve said that it was for Hinode, or some other such altruistic reason, but that didn’t feel completely correct. It was certainly part of the explanation, but there was something else that you had not quite yet put your finger on.

“If I ever find out for sure, I’ll let you know,” you said. “But for the moment, I should get going. Nanami and Haibara are traveling pretty far for their mission tomorrow, so I want to spend some time with them before they leave.”

“You weren’t assigned to go with them?” Geto said.

“No, it’s just a grade 2 curse. The two of them will be enough to handle it,” you said.

“Right,” he said. “Of course, that makes sense. They’d leave their stronger sorcerers in reserve for when bigger problems arise.”

“When, not if? You seem pretty sure that something bigger will pop up,” you said.

“As long as non-sorcerers are around, leaking their negative emotions as cursed energy, something bigger will inevitably appear,” he said. You arched a brow.

“I didn’t know you were so interested in curse theory,” you said.

“It’s a recent development,” he said.

“Hm,” you said, furrowing your brow. “Well, don’t stay up too late reading, I guess. See you later!”

“See you,” he said, staying on the bench and watching as you walked away.

Once again alone, you mulled over the conversation. Why were you a sorcerer? There were a lot of possible answers. At first, it had been because there was nothing else left for you, but now you had enough control of your cursed energy that you could integrate back into normal society pretty seamlessly. Then, it had been out of tribute to Hinode’s memory, but you had saved enough lives by now that any debt you owed to your teacher had honestly been well paid off.

“Whatever,” you said to yourself as you reached Haibara’s room, which somewhere along the line had been designated as your official hangout spot. “He’s just going through his midlife crisis or something.”

As soon as you opened the door, Haibara was shoving a paper plate with a greasy slice of pizza on it at you. You accepted it and took your usual place on the beanbag he had next to his bed.

“You finally made it!” he said, sitting back down at his desk chair. Nanami, who was on the actual bed, continued to chew on his own slice of pizza, though he spared you a nod in greeting.

“Sorry, I was training with Gojo, and then I got caught up talking with Geto,” you said. “Did you know he’s into curse theory now?”

“He’s always been into technical stuff like that. Why are you surprised?” Haibara said.

“That’s true,” you said. “It’s probably nothing. Are you guys excited about your mission?”

“Excited isn’t the word I’d use for it, no,” Nanami said now that his plate was empty. You wordlessly offered him a napkin, which he used to wipe the oil off of his fingers gratefully.

“I’m excited! It’ll be fun to go somewhere new,” Haibara said. “I wish you could come, though, Y/N.”

Ever since you had begun to utilize Hummingbird’s Blessing in a meaningful way, you had stopped being assigned to missions with Haibara and Nanami. You were considered stronger than them now, often sent on missions by yourself or with older sorcerers such as Yaga. Occasionally, you would even accompany Geto, though that was rare. Although you didn’t use your technique unless you absolutely needed to, just the fact that you had it was enough to push you to a different level from the rest of your classmates.

“Me, too,” you said genuinely. You missed the days when you all had done everything together, when exorcising had been a game and all you wanted to do was make Hinode and the upperclassmen proud. But now, exorcising was a chore and Hinode was dead and you three would never be those kids again. “Let’s ask Yaga to get the higher ups to assign us on the next one together.”

Reminiscing was not a crime. Even if having all three of you on a mission would be excessive, it would still be fun, and you doubted the higher ups would be hugely against it if you promised to be quick.

“Sounds good,” Nanami said.

“Feeling nostalgic?” you said.

“As if. The mission will just be done that much faster if you come along, Y/N,” he said.

“And maybe with us supporting you, you won’t have to go into torpor!” Haibara said. He and Nanami were the ones most affected when you were in that state, staying by your bedside and refusing to do their schoolwork or go on missions until you woke up.

“Oh, speaking of which, I only went into it for two minutes after sparring with Gojo earlier,” you said.

“Really? That’s a major improvement,” Nanami said.

“Of course, my technique wasn’t active for that long, but it did give me an idea,” you said.

“What is it?” Haibara said. You shook your head.

“I’d have to test it out first, but that can be a thought for when you guys are back,” you said.

“Okay, sure,” Haibara said. “I forgot to ask earlier, but do you want us to bring you any souvenirs, Y/N?”

“Souvenirs? I can’t think of anything,” you said.

“Come on, there’s gotta be something you want!” he insisted.

“Give me a second to think about it,” you said, throwing away your empty paper plate.

“One,” he said cheekily. “Okay, that was a second!”

“You are so annoying,” you said. “Bring me back something from a convenience store.”

“You want convenience store snacks?” Haibara said. “That’s really it?”

“Wow, not as demanding as I was expecting,” Nanami said. “Considering what you make Gojo bring back for you…

“That’s because it’s Gojo,” you said. “I know he’s going to go out and do random stuff regardless, so I might as well get something out of it. But I don’t want you guys to waste your time and money on me when you wouldn’t otherwise. So, convenience store snacks will be enough to make me happy.”

“If you say so,” Haibara said. “And you’re fine with watching Sora while we’re gone?”

“No problem,” you said.

“I’d hire a dog sitter, but she really seems to like you,” he said. The dog he had adopted after yours and Hinode’s mission was a fixture at the school now, a friendly face that made the pain of sorcery easier to bear. She could usually be found either wandering the campus or playing with one of Yaga’s cursed puppets, which he readily allowed her to do, and even the most stoic of sorcerers would pet her as they passed through the school.

“Seriously, it’s fine,” you said. “Don’t worry about it. I don’t mind taking care of her for a bit.”

“You’re the best,” Haibara said.

“It’s getting pretty late,” Nanami said. “If we have to leave early tomorrow morning, we should get to bed.”

“Right, sorry to keep you guys up,” you said, standing and hugging them, first Haibara, then Nanami.

“Good night!” Haibara said.

“Good night,” Nanami echoed.

“Good night, both of you,” you said. “Good luck tomorrow!”

“Thanks!”

You woke up late the next day, the sun streaming into your room as you leisurely stretched before getting up and getting ready. You took your time — after all, classes were cancelled for the day, since there was no point in teaching to only one student.

After eating a nice breakfast of your own, you chatted with Ieri as you fed and brushed Haibara’s dog. It was one of the rare days that there was no one for her to heal, so she lit a cigarette and walked through campus with you and Sora for a bit.

The two of you didn’t talk about anything that deep, but that was what you liked about spending time with her. The weather, what books you were reading, your plans for the weekend, it was all entirely refreshing and normal. Being with Ieri was like being a regular girl, and you appreciated her for it.

After walking with Ieri, you went back to the dining hall and had lunch. Gojo was on a mission, and Ieri and Geto had to attend their afternoon classes, so you played fetch with Sora and then got your homework for the week done.

All in all, it was a lovely, peaceful day. You even did a face mask before showering, and the pain in your body subsided a little as you finally got the chance to relax for the first time in what seemed like ages.

The next few couple of days passed in the same way, but by the third day, unease began to creep in and soil the calm routine. Eventually you could not take it anymore; dropping the ball and apologizing to Sora, you shifted directions so that you were walking, then running, all of the way until you reached Yaga’s office.

“Why aren’t they back yet?” you said.

“I was just about to call you,” he said. “Satoru found them.”

“And?” you said. Yaga pursed his lips and averted his gaze, and the silence was enough of an answer, though it was one you refused to accept.

This was worse than it had been with Gojo. This was a million times worse. You covered your ears so that you didn’t hear Yaga’s explanation, filtering out whatever muffled words made it past the blockade — Haibara…first grade…too strong. You would not comprehend it.

Even Hinode’s death had been bearable. Even that you had survived. Not them, though, anyone but them, you could lose so many other people and make it but you could not bear to part with them. Not yet and not ever.

You slammed the door to the operating room open, narrowly missing being hit by a stool, which crashed into the wall and then bounced to the ground on its side. Geto was there, covering something — you wouldn’t look, you wouldn’t look — with cloth, and Nanami sat on another stool, leaning back, a towel blocking out his vision.

“Nanami,” you said. His jaw clenched at the sound of your voice, but he did not otherwise react. “Nanami, where’s Haibara?”

His hands balled into fists at his side. “Shut up.”

“Where is he?” you said, looking around, trying to figure out where the rambunctious boy was hiding. He did that, he liked to play jokes and pranks, so it wasn’t out of character for him to be messing around with you. Though this was not a particularly funny trick, and nobody around you was laughing. “Geto? Where is Haibara?”

Geto motioned towards the table. You shook your head. He placed a tentative hand on your shoulder, though it was trembling, like he could barely keep himself together.

“That’s not true,” you said. “Why would you say such a thing? Where is he really?”

“It ended up being a grade 1 curse,” Nanami said dully. “They said it was a grade 2, which was why we were sent on the mission without you. But that thing, it was some kind of a local god. We didn’t stand a chance.”

“You should rest now, Nanami,” Geto said. “Satoru will take care of it.”

“Can’t he just take care of everything from now on?” Nanami said before fishing around in his pocket, not even lifting the towel from his face before he tossed something in your general direction. Out of reflex, you reached up and caught it.

It was a small box, wrapped in paper. In the corner were three wide-eyed rabbits, and someone had taken a marker and drawn an arrow to the rabbits, writing us! next to it in a familiar scrawl.

“The convenience store snack you wanted. He picked it out himself. Said the rabbits on the packaging were cute,” Nanami said, abruptly standing and marching out of the room, leaving you and Geto alone with the cloth-covered corpse.

“Is that really him?” you said. He removed the hand which rested on your shoulder and stared at it like it held the answers to every one of his problems.

“Yes,” he said. You reached towards the fabric, and Geto did not try to stop you. Perhaps he knew that you would not believe it if you did not see it for yourself, or perhaps he also wanted to confirm it, like the face might’ve changed in the time it had taken for him to cover it up.

It had not. The face belonged to Haibara, there was no doubt about it, though it was blank and dark and bruised in a way you had never seen. He was so animated all of the time, so happy, that the waxy pallor of death was incongruent. His features had dropped into a frown, which was an expression he would never wear on his own, and there was a bloody streak on the fabric where his torso ended and his legs should’ve begun.

“Why?” you said. “Why did it happen like this? He didn’t deserve it. He was better than all of us. So why?”

Why was he dead and you weren’t?

Geto did not respond. You waited and waited, but he never said anything. He just stood there with you in silence, the two of you burning Haibara’s body into your minds, committing it to memory, the exact shade of his hair, the shape of his lips, the curve of his jaw. Then, he turned the lights off and pulled the cloth up over the corpse once again, patting you on the head and leaving you alone.

A few days later, he, too, was gone.

With both Geto and Haibara missing, something in the school changed irrevocably. Gojo didn’t joke around as much anymore. Nanami never smiled. Ieri went through even more cigarettes than usual. You did not leave your room for many days, and when you finally emerged, it was only because Yaga grew tired of caring for Haibara’s dog and someone had to do it.

“Come, Sora,” you said, whistling to call her to your side. She was whining and pawing at the door to Haibara’s empty room, though when you called her, she reluctantly came. None of you had dared to venture inside ever since that day, but every time you took her out on a walk, she begged to be let in. You didn’t fault her — nobody had told her that her owner was dead. She probably thought he just didn’t want her anymore.

Sometimes, you wished you could give Sora away. She was the only one that was still happy, and caring for a creature so reminiscent of Haibara every day was like ripping open the wound daily anew. And this wound, it was one that not even Ieri could heal. It was a wound you doubted would ever heal, so you should at least get rid of whatever kept opening it for you, but you could not do it. A few times, you had tried, going so far as having a manager drop you off in front of a shelter, but every attempt ended with you sitting on the curb and crying as you held her close to you; she, who was the last thing you had left of him.

You still hadn’t eaten the snack he had bought for you. Probably you never would. It sat on your shelf next to the Sword of Syrinx, collecting dust in its place of honor, the us! and the arrow growing faded with time but never erasing completely. The three rabbits still curled together, frozen in happiness, not knowing that one of their group had vanished forever and left the others shattered.

Nowadays, you and Nanami barely spoke. It was too hard, because every good memory you two had together was tied to Haibara, so beyond formalities and school-related business, you did not talk. The last real conversation you had had with him was right after Haibara’s funeral. You had sat together in front of the headstone, and then Nanami had told you he wished he had been the one to die. He said that Haibara would’ve known how to deal with everything afterwards better. You told him that that wasn’t true and that he was dealing with things fine. He told you to stop lying, so you didn’t say anything else. In such a way, you lost both of your best friends at the same time.

“Go play with Yaga now, alright?” you said to the dog, unclipping her leash and shooing her in the direction of his office. She bounded off willingly, tail wagging all the while, and once you were sure she was gone, you got in the car.

“When should I pick you up?” the manager said when you got out in front of a cafe.

“I’ll call for you,” you said. “But not for a while, so feel free to go back to the school in the meantime.”

He made to argue, but you slammed the car door shut in his face, so he had nothing to do but drive off, leaving you standing there by yourself, without even the Sword of Syrinx to accompany you. Digging into your bag and taking out the book you planned on reading, you stepped into the cafe, inhaling the smell of baked goods and coffee and pretending you were a different person. A person not blessed by a hummingbird. A person who had no one to grieve. That kind of a person.

“Will that be all, ma’am?” the barista said when you had finished telling her your order.

“Yes, thank you,” you said. “Oh, I left my purse at my seat! I’ll go grab it so that I can pay. I’ll be right back.”

Internally kicking yourself for being so careless with your things, you snatched your purse up, relieved it hadn’t been taken by someone else, and then you returned to the counter.

“How much will it be?” you asked, rummaging around for your credit card and then brandishing it in front of you as proof that you had money and hadn’t made up the lie about your purse to disguise the fact that you were broke.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said.

“Ah, what?” you said. “I still want my order, though.”

“That man over there paid for you,” she said, pointing behind you. “He’s so handsome, isn’t he? You’re so lucky! If you go over and thank him, I’m sure he’ll definitely ask you out.”

“What?” you said, turning around to see who she was referring to. Your jaw dropped as you made eye contact with him, the wanted mass murderer, the infamous runaway sorcerer, the criminal at large himself.

“Here you go!” the barista said. You were barely aware of yourself taking what you had asked for, your body on autopilot and only regaining some semblance of control when you were face to face with him again.

“Geto,” you said. “What are you doing here? Why did you pay for me?”

“What kind of an upperclassman would I be if I let you pay for yourself while I’m around?” he said, motioning for you to sit across from him. You obliged without complaint.

“You left the school, so you’re not exactly my upperclassman anymore,” you said, crossing your arms, though not before taking a sip of the drink you had gotten.

“If that’s the case, then please call me Suguru,” he said.

“Fine, then. Suguru,” you said. “Let me ask again: what are you doing here?”

“I was in the mood for coffee,” he said, motioning towards his own cup. “For being monkeys, they know their beverages, wouldn’t you say?”

“Monkeys?” you said. He smiled lightly.

“Isn’t that what they are?” he said. “Non-sorcerers, I mean.”

“I see. So that’s how you think of things now,” you said. He was healthier than you had ever seen him. He could be described as happy, even, and you wondered if his new outlook had driven him to actually caring about the world around him, or at least about himself.

“Indeed,” he said.

“Is your plan to enslave all of them or something?” you said with a derisive snort. “Was that what drove your interest in curse theory?”

“I actually mean to kill them,” he said pleasantly. “And yes, it was.”

You gave him a minute, but he made no indication that he was joking. “You’re serious?”

“Certainly,” he said.

“Damn,” you said, shaking your head. “I hope you know that makes us enemies.”

“I’m aware,” he said. “Does that mean you’ll attack me now?”

You considered it before sighing and taking another swig of your drink. “Nope, not this time. It would be rude to attack the person that paid for my stuff.”

“I appreciate your politeness,” he said.

“I’ve been thinking about what you asked me that day, by the way,” you said. “Ever since Haibara died, it’s been hard to find a point in doing anything.”

This was an improvement. You could say his name without breaking down. Before, even that much made you burst into tears.

“I understand the feeling,” Suguru said.

“That’s how I passed the time. I would lie there and think about it — why was I even fighting? What was the point to being a sorcerer?” you said.

“Did you find an answer?” he said.

“I wouldn’t have brought it up if I hadn’t. Actually, I wouldn’t have brought it up at all, but I promised I would tell you if I ever figured it out, and in the name of our old friendship, I’ll honor that promise,” you said.

“I don’t necessarily need to hear it anymore,” he said. “But if you want to tell me, I will listen.”

“There’s a lot of things I could say. I could tell you I’m doing it to protect people weaker than me, or that I want to save others because I could not save Haibara and Hinode. But, would it matter? Saving other people won’t bring those two back. It won’t change anything. It won’t lessen my sadness; if anything, it’ll only increase it, because nobody can save everyone,” you said.

“That’s true,” he said. “I’ll admit that I am a little curious now. If you’re not doing it to try and be a good person, then why?”

“I want to know,” you said. “There’s things I still can’t understand. Why does the Sword of Syrinx like me so much? Why was I born with an extinct technique? What…what is my reason for existing? I’m a person that has never belonged anywhere, not fully. The school is the closest thing I’ve ever had to a home, and it’s also the place I can most likely find answers to these questions, so until such a day comes that my curiosity has been satisfied, I’ll protect it.”

“And then what will you do?” he said.

“I suppose it depends on what those answers are,” you said with a shrug. “I don’t know yet.”

“Do you really think that the higher ups will help you with what you need?” he said. “You’re not as smart as I thought you were if that’s the case.”

“No, of course not. The higher ups help no one but themselves and the clans,” you said. “But…there is someone. There is someone who I’m meant to find, and they will definitely help me.”

“Who?” Geto said. You pushed your empty dishes towards him and smiled.

“I don’t know yet. I think I’ll recognize them when the time comes,” you said. “Anyways, thank you for the food. I’m sorry we’re on opposite sides now. I wish we could be friends still. Is that be possible?”

“I think it would be best for the both of us if I don’t answer that question,” he said with a soft, sad smile. It was about what I had expected, so I wasn’t even upset by it. I just had needed to ask him once before I gave up entirely. “Farewell, Y/N.”

“Farewell, Suguru. Let’s not meet again,” you said, not glancing backwards as you left the cafe.

Your wish came true — you never did see him again, at least not fully. The next time you both crossed paths, he was already dead.

#kashimo x reader #kashimo x you #kashimo x y/n #canon au #reader insert #hurricanes / hummingbirds #m1ckeyb3rry writes

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