#i feel like being dead and never having to live or feel this way again would be worth it.

[prongsx]

we are not children anymore, honey.

warning: swearing, a bit insinuating, f!reader, fluff.

where jason needs to remind you that you're not kids anymore and teasing him isn't the same anymore.

1,8k words

You met Jason Todd when you were both innocent children, well, as innocent as the crime alley allowed. He was your best friend, most of the scars he had back then were from picking fights with anyone who raised their voice at you, anyone who tried to sell you drugs or tried to be aggressive with you.

You had an easy body language, both of you touched each other often and played the usual games that children do, physical touch was never a distant thing.

You secretly had a crush on that somewhat reckless and smiling boy who protected you, always holding your hand. Maybe in the back of your mind you thought that one day you would get married.

At the time, he was a little shorter than you, a fact that deeply irritated him but made you laugh. Then he was adopted by Bruce Wayne and you thought that would be the end of your friendship, but there seemed to be a thread that connected you, not even taking on the mantle of Robin could separate you.

Then Jason was taken from you in the most abrupt way possible, by the hands of death itself. But not even that which seemed inescapable separated you for long, the grief that consumed you could have destroyed you, but something in your mind repeated that Jason would never leave you alone.

When Jason appeared at your door, years later, his blue eyes looking haunted, you cried, something in your heart that was dead seemed to come out of the ground in the same way as your best friend.

At first, you simply didn't know what to do with this new Jason, he himself seemed a little lost, the well had affected his emotions. He took up more space, his arms and hands were bigger. Doubts consumed you, afraid of never rescuing the old bond, but then you bought your old favorite cookie and he smiled at you.

That dimpled smile, which lit up his blue eyes and seemed to bring a reckless air to him. And you decided right then and there that nothing would stop you from being his best friend again.

The thing was that your friendship was based on a time when you were both younger and more naive, feelings were simpler. Jason died before you could be friends during that strange time in your adolescence when touching your friend seemed strange, the only memory your body had of your friendship with Jason was a sticky friendship.

"Only you could make me go to the other side of town to get that damn donut that tasted like paper." Jason grumbles, closing the latch on your window as he moves his huge body into your living room. At that moment, you feel the room shrink, and it feels like any false move will betray your racing heart as you watch Jason remove his helmet, his black curls messy in a cute way.

"They're great." You hum, reaching out to take the package from Jason.

"Seriously, there are so many bakeries with better donuts." He retorts, crossing his arms, drawing your attention to the outline of his biceps in his skintight uniform.

"The best isn't always going to be the tastiest."

Jason rolls his eyes at your completely nonsensical choice of words, flopping his tired body on the couch next to you.

"Jason, did you just sit on my couch in your dirty patrol gear?"

"Sweetie, I just walked halfway through this shitty city looking for that donut. I have a right to dirty your precious couch."

You let out a grunt, knowing he's right. He has the right, but that doesn't stop you from lightly pinching the side of his hip, where his suit had a layer of fabric.

He doesn't even blink at your attitude, his hands holding your wrist, his long fingers holding it as delicately as was allowed.

"I thought you gave up trying to play fight with me," he whispers, his voice heavy with that accent that makes your legs a little weak.

You shrug, your body approaching him almost as a reflex, your knee touching his. It's kind of annoying how much bigger he's gotten than you, and stronger. Much stronger, you know he could flip you over with a single hand and honestly the thought is more exciting than you want to admit.

"Sweet thing?" He calls to you, still with that sly smile on his lips. You blink slowly, coming back to reality.

"Hmm?"

"Aren't you going to eat your delicious donut?"

"Yes. Yes." You say, nodding.

If before you thought Jason was cute, now you could write ridiculous poems about him, two stanzas just about his sapphire eyes.

He snuggled deeper into your couch, spreading his thighs and letting out a sigh of relief at the comfort.

"Tiring patrol?" He opened his eyes when he felt your hands lightly pinching his nose, trying to make him pay attention to you again. You would never admit it out loud, but having Jason's undivided attention was kind of addictive and intoxicating.

"You could say that."

You dropped the donuts on the living room table, suddenly feeling guilty. Even though it was just him teasing you, the store that sold your favorite donuts was really far away.

"I'm sorry I made you take my stupid donuts." He let out a breath when you rested your chin on his shoulder, staring at him from under your eyelashes.

"No. I don't forgive you." He teased, his hands going down to your waist and drawing circles there.

"Seriously, I was selfish." You repeat, looking down at the red bat symbol on his chest.

His blue eyes continued to stare at you, his hands coming up and lightly holding your chin, his eyebrows furrowed. Jason never accepted it when you seemed sad towards him, or when you made it seem like you were a hindrance in his life.

"Stop that shit."

A laugh escaped through your nostrils.

"You still have such a dirty mouth, Todd. My mother still blames you for the variety of curses I know."

He laughed, the sound going straight to your stomach. It should be forbidden for someone to have such a delightful laugh to hear. Jason wasn't as much of a laugh now as he used to be when he was a child, his innocence had been taken away from him years ago, so you drank every drop of his laughter you could.

"Well, I blame you every time I act stupid. We're even."

You reached your hands up to his hair and pulled lightly, like you used to do when you wanted to get back at him when you were kids. But this time, he didn't laugh you away or flick you in retaliation. His lips curved into a thin line and his eyes blinked so fast you thought you'd imagined it.

"Sweetie." Jason's voice was low, the nickname sending an electric shock through your body. "We're not kids anymore."

"You're still just as annoying." You joked, praying he wouldn't notice the slight crack in your voice.

"No, sweet thing, you didn't understand what I meant." He said, his blue eyes staring straight into your face. His hands moved down to your hips, pulling you closer to him, your legs almost resting on his thigh. "I'm saying we're not kids anymore." He repeated.

"Yes. I obviously know that."

He let out a long sigh, as if you were irritating him with your stupidity.

His slightly chapped lips parted as he said something that you were momentarily lost in, your hands resting on his muscular thigh. He gripped your chin tighter when he noticed your inattention and felt your hand on his thigh.

"See? That's what I'm saying." He let out a laugh that wasn't like before, it wasn't genuine and open-hearted, it was low and had a feeling you couldn't quite grasp. "You keep touching me and teasing me like we're children."

"I can stop." You stammered, very confused and feeling a little dizzy. This new Jason Todd, with more scars and less shyness, was making your throat suddenly close up.

"You're not supposed to stop." He whispered, his other hand coming back to grab the back of your neck and pull your faces so close you could feel his warm breath. "Just letting you know that now, when you lie on top of me and stare at me like that, my first thought isn't to play fight with you, darling." His hand squeezed your chin lightly as he added, his voice lower, "When you stare at me like that, all I think about is kissing you stupid."

Forming words seemed harder than ever.

"Ah."

"Ah," he mimicked you in a thin voice, a goofy smile on his face, his grip on your chin bringing your lips close to his. "I say I want to make you sigh my name and that's all you have to say?"

You clear your throat, your eyelashes fluttering slightly. The hand resting on his thigh makes an involuntary movement to lightly squeeze the muscle there. Jason's blue eyes darken, a noise close to a growl leaving his lips.

"You keep doing these things. Fuck, baby, every time you almost climb on my lap like it's nothing." He took a deep breath, as if he was losing his mind, closing his eyes so as not to get lost in his own thoughts. "You must know what you're doing to me."

"No. I. No." You repeated, still very overwhelmed by how close you were. Your best friend, staring at you like he was about to destroy you.

He smiled again at your mental confusion, brushing his lips against yours and letting out a low moan that made you gasp. "Let me kiss you, please?"

You nodded, crashing your lips against his before you had to beg for it. Jason's lips were rough against yours, as if he was punishing you for making him wait, for making him yearn for this.

Jason's ability to focus on multitasking was evident when he pulled you to sit fully on his lap, without separating your lips, his hands moving up and down your body, swallowing the small moans that came out of your mouth.

"I think I've already thought of a way for you to pay for your stupid donuts," he whispered, pulling your lips away for a few seconds to smile at you.

You laughed, feeling lighter than you had in years. Your hands cupped his face, caressing his cheek. There were so many questions and doubts swirling around your mind, but Jason pulled you into a hug, kissing your forehead.

"Honey, it took you a long time to realize that you're mine. Just relax."

You blinked away the tears, hiding your face in the crook of his neck, a genuine smile on your lips.

Your best friend was in love with you too, and everything would be okay.

I hope you liked it, sorry for the mistakes, I need to review all my works. My epub box is open, I just want to write more for Jason!! I'm stupid for him. And I'll be dying on the hill that Jason Todd has a dirty mouth. I'm trying to write for a gender-neutral reader but I've discovered that I have difficulty, I'm sorry, but I'll keep trying.

[gatorbites-imagines]

Perhaps Hal Jordan or Clark kent with cuddling. Like just them coming home after a stressed day and you just take care of them the best you can. U offer sex but they don’t want it. Just wanting to be in ur presence for a bit yk yk

Clark Kent x Male reader

Headcanons

Hey nerds, guess who’s not dead. I feel like I am, but apparently, I’m not. Classes are kicking my ass because of very cramped timelines and long days. Who’d have thought becoming a caretaker (idk the English word) would be so difficult. A shorty, but still something I enjoyed writing.

It wasn’t a common occurrence. For Clark to come home so worn out and tired. As a man powered by the sun, a man of steel as he so regularly gets called, its very difficult to him feeling so worn down.

For the most part, the days he comes home in this mood, is not because he’s exhausted physically, but rather mentally. Be it from difficult missions, or just long days at work where he’s talked down too or pushed aside.

There is something soft and cute about him like this, though you would never tell him that. he’s always a little whinier and poutier, but also cuddlier, if that’s even possible for a guy who seems to live off affectionate contact with you.

The first thing Clark does when he comes home from days like this, is kick off whatever he’s wearing and change into something else. Most days its some ancient washed-out sweatshirts from his university days. The kind that’s been washed so many times the logo is mostly gone, and the fabric is worn thin and soft.

Its either that, or if you’re bigger than him, then it’s one of your shirts. That or just a pair of boxers and socks, so he can crawl into your space and flop down there like a big lazy cat.

If possible, Clark tries to crawl up into your shirt, laying his head on your stomach or your chest, ear pressed against your skin to listen to your heart, even if he can easily do that anywhere on the planet. Being so close just puts him at ease.

You cant hear it, but you know he’s purring, even if it’s a frequency you can’t pick up. At this point you can only really rub his back and let him soak up the affection and touch he needs like a wilted flower in the sun.

When he starts pressing featherlight kisses against your torso, you start to think maybe Clark wants something more, since he starts kneading at your sides, like you’re made from playdough, and he wants to mold you into something else.

His hands are so big and strong that you almost feel like playdough, with how insistent his rubbing and kneading can get. His kisses never go beyond soft pecks and barely there brushes of his lips, Clarks head just moving from side under your shirt as he lays on top of your legs.

You don’t need words in a situation like this, your hands becoming more exploratory, rubbing between his shoulders and tapping your fingers at his spine, like he’s a harp you’re plucking the strings off.

The change in your scent must catch his attention too, as Clark lifts his head just enough for you to see him through the collar of it, his eyes soft and glistening. They remind you of marbles, in a way. So shiny and with that clash of shades of blue.

The small downwards pout of his lips and minimal shake of his head is all you need to know, that going farther isn’t what he wants. So, you just give a nod in reply and place a hand on the back of his head, bringing him back down again.

You don’t really understand why he feels so much comfort under your shirt like this. Maybe it’s the enclosed feeling of it all, the shirt, and sometimes blanket you put on top, closing him off from the rest of the world.

Maybe its just the closure, and being surrounded by your scent, which always seems to put him at ease, or rile him up, depending on your own mood.

You don’t hate it though, you never could, not when its Clark. So, instead you just lay back, rubbing your hands slowly up and down his back and Clark nuzzles deeper against you, letting him rest there for as long as he needs.

[evansboyfriend]

completely unseriously, maybe the reason the buckley siblings have made it well past adulthood not having seen Movies is because family movie night wasn't a thing in the buckley household.

maybe maddie had no time to sit down and watch movies between like, school, and raising her little brother, and trying desperately to have some semblance of a social life - you know. before she met doug and was isolated from everyone she knew and loved, huh! maybe she worked to put herself through nursing school and then worked as a nurse and idk, tried to be a good wife because her husband was, you know, doug kendall.

and maybe buck spent all of his time Outside doing stupid shit and getting himself hurt. and maybe he was busy working odd jobs all over the country like a nomad and trying to create a little found family with what appears to be a frathouse-esque group of overgrown boys whose idea of a good time wasn't staying in to watch the mummy (1999).

once again don't take my ramblings too seriously. it's just a quirky thing canon gave us. and it's super cute that they've coupled up with chimney & tommy who will make pop culture references and laugh together and then judge you if you don't get it. i hope to see this ten more times on my screen actually.

i was just thinking about the buckley siblings' formative years and man, those two were never socialised properly, huh? they grew up in very different ways in the same house raised by the same parents. they seem to have similar traumas but very different coping mechanisms. growing up feeling unloved fucks you up. anyway.

and while i'm here yeah bi!maddie hc cool and all but i dont see a girl with a crush on her bff i see a girl who is isolated from her extended family forced to live keeping a secret from her younger brother and not being allowed to talk about her dead brother. she was 14 that's like. 4 years after daniel's death right. maybe sarah b. was the first real friend she had in the new strange town her parents moved her too ykno! maybe she was clinging to her one (1) friend and didn't cope well with said friend getting super close with a new person. that's actually far more interesting to me than bi!maddie idk

[distort-opia]

*bursts through your window at 4AM wearing bloodied Hamlet costume* Hey Tort beloved i got you a whole chicken and an egg for breakfast:

Batman VS. Bruce Wayne— which one, in your opinion, is the person and which one is the persona? Realistically, when hell breaks loose on a good god abiding gotham day, which one could Bruce lose and still have his identity remain somewhat intact? I know different comics and media take complete separate parts of him as what makes him, but which one do you think makes Bruce Wayne who he is at heart?

Hi! You're not the first person to ask, so I'll put these two together. Thank you for the hearty breakfast and please accept these cakes as apology for how delayed this answer is (you and Anon both).

To be honest, I consider the question of "which one is real, which one is fake" as a bit overdone... and needlessly complicated. Especially because many times when people bring up the debate, they're thinking of "Brucie Wayne" and "Batman", with arguments of Batman being the real personality seemingly always correct and almost obvious. This oversimplifies things, because there's "Brucie Wayne", there's Batman, and then there's just Bruce.

Is the persona of "Brucie Wayne", the ditzy womanizing playboy with half a braincell, fake? Yes, absolutely. That one's a mask which serves the purpose of hiding the existence of Batman. But is that the same as Bruce Wayne, the man we see joke around with Alfred in the Cave, interact honestly with Dick and the Family and Talia and Selina and so many others-- the human underneath Batman? No, it isn't. That Bruce Wayne is very real. And Batman is not a separate persona or a mask, it's just another facet of the same person, borne out of Bruce Wayne's trauma. Batman is so many things... a coping mechanism, a way to commit suicide, the fantasy of who Bruce would like to be; but he's got roots within Bruce to such a fundamental extent that calling him a mask, or a persona, feels wrong to me. Batman is both the worst and the best of Bruce Wayne. There's no separating them... no matter how badly Bruce would like to make it that way.

Because Bruce has struggled (and still does) a lot, both with admitting to himself that there's more to him than the existence of Batman, and with maintaining a balance between the many personas he wears. "Batman is the real one, Bruce Wayne is fake" is something Bruce desperately wanted to believe and make real himself, in multiple stories. This is where this long-standing fandom belief probably stems from: from Bruce having convinced himself that "Bruce Wayne" is dead, and that there isn't anything left to him but Batman. Hell, Bruce has literally tried to "kill" Bruce Wayne and only be Batman in Bruce Wayne, Murderer? and Bruce Wayne, Fugitive; this is probably the story arc that dealt with this divide in Bruce's psyche in the most depth, I absolutely recommend giving it a read.

However, the more important thing is the why. Why this constant struggle? And it's a simple reason... maintaining ties to his humanity versus giving himself over entirely to the Vow. Batman was forged out of Bruce's pain, and is a response to loss. Batman is how Bruce channels his emotions into purpose. Batman will always want to never go through the loss of loved ones again, and the simplest solution to that is to never care again. Never have romantic relationships, maintain a distance from all the people in his life. But humans can't live like that. Bruce can't live like that, he needs grounding by the many relationships he does have, despite how much the side of him that's Batman pulls in the other direction. That's why Bruce Wayne, Fugitive ends like this:

And the thing is, we keep having the same story, over and over. Bruce nearly being consumed by Batman, and then finding his way back, most of the time with the help of his Family.

Here's another instance:

Batman: Legends of the Dark Knight #140

And another one, which so beautifully illustrates how Batman and Bruce Wayne are the same, but also how Batman contains a suicidal and self-destructive side of Bruce too:

Batman: Ego

(Lol. Yeah this is your life, man.)

But you could find an equal number of examples in which Bruce declares that "Bruce Wayne" is useless and disposable, and that Batman is the only thing that matters (e.g., Robin 1993 #125). Because again, this is comics. There's no finality in sight, no traditional ending that everything we read is heading towards. Bruce will keep doing this dance, will keep having to learn how to balance these two sides of himself. Most recently this happened in Zdarsky's Batman run, with the conflict between Bruce and the Batman of Zur-en-Arrh... but don't even get me started on that utter disappointment.

Actually though, @psalmsofpsychosis, this part of your question is quite interesting: "Realistically, when hell breaks loose on a good god abiding gotham day, which one could Bruce lose and still have his identity remain somewhat intact?" Because there have been times of crisis in which this has happened, in comics. And what Bruce did is probably not what you'd expect. This answer got long enough though, so I'm putting the rest under the cut.

Bruce has gone through a lot. There's been many catastrophic-level events he's dealt with. And at first glance, you'd think that he'd consistently fall back on Batman, if that's who he "really" is. But when his will genuinely breaks, that isn't what always happens. In Batman: Cult, a story that takes place towards the end of Bruce's first decade as Batman, after Jason became Robin, shows that Bruce can give up:

Batman: The Cult

Bruce abandons Gotham, and with it, Batman. Obviously, he eventually comes back. But it had to be Jason dragging him around for half this issue just to make him fight, just to make him function. (Much earlier than this, in Going Sane, he also considered just leaving Batman behind. But that story is deeply intertwined with Joker's identity as much as his, so I'm just mentioning it.)

And then Barbara gets shot, Jason dies, Bane goes after Batman in the Knightfall arc... it's just one thing after the other for the poor guy. Knightfall and its continuations are very extensive and many things happen, but after Bruce's spine is broken, he leaves Jean-Paul Valley in the role of Batman. And even after Bruce's injuries get healed, making a previously proclaimed goal of becoming Batman again much easier, he tells Tim that he doesn't want to come back. That he wants to stay retired, and "rejoin humanity":

Batman: Knightquest

Tim has to tell him of a crime that Azrael as Batman did, which is impossible to ignore... and Bruce has to confront Jean-Paul and see the truth of him having gone mad himself, before he decides to retrain and "become worthy" of his Batman identity once more.

Then, in a much bigger and well-known storyline that follows the Cataclysm event, Batman disappears for months. No Man's Land starts with a world in which Bruce has been away in Monaco trying to be someone else, instead of in Gotham, being Batman and taking control of the wrecked city which had been abandoned by all. Oh he comes back, but still...

No Man's Land: Ground Zero

So. Batman isn't his "real" identity, it isn't the core of him. Many times, he's wanted to run away and leave Batman behind, just like in some stories he was ready to completely destroy the "Bruce Wayne" identity and only be Batman. But in times of crisis, he repeatedly tried to leave and find happiness outside of Gotham and carrying the mantle of Batman... without succeeding.

Sometimes, Bruce hates Batman, and tries to run away. And other times, Batman hates Bruce, and tries to destroy him. It's a constant give-and-take, and neither facet of him has managed to succeed so far, because Bruce is Batman. There's no one without the other.

[michaelmilligan]

I need to write fucked up Midam. And I don't mean that in the kinky way.

Michael liking Adam, but he's still an archangel and Adam is just a human. The body may have been originally Adam's, but now it's Michael's to use, and Adam only gets to do so if Michael feels like being nice. If Adam is too annoying, Michael will ignore him, maybe even shove him down into the depths of his own consciousness, until his mood lifts and he remembers to pull Adam out again.

They spent a lot of time together in the cage, but compared to the rest of Michael's existence, it's not that long. And humans don't live forever - Michael knows that Adam will be gone within a blink of an eye.

Meanwhile, Adam has spent several human lifetimes with Michael, and he doesn't know how else to live anymore. If he's not with Michael, what is he even going to do? The comment about getting a little job was part joke and part an attempt to see if Michael would let him. Michael scoffed at it, though - and Adam never brought it up again.

Adam has no family, or none that he considers to be family, and no friends or even acquaintances who don't think he has been dead for over ten years. He has no one to return to, nowhere to go. The idea that Michael would leave him, the only person he truly knows in this world and who knows him - it's inconceivable. He would do anything to have that not happen, no matter how much it hurts when Michael pretends not to hear him for a whole day, or two, or when he pushes Adam down.

Adam has no power, while Michael holds all of it. Sometimes, Michael is gracious, and lets Adam eat, or interact with people. He brings them places Adam mentions he wants to see.

But Adam isn't in control. Not of his body, or even his own mind. He loves Michael - must love him, because what else could it be when the thought of Michael leaving makes him feel like shaking and crying, even though Michael would never let his body do that?

It must be love, and so Adam needs to make sure that Michael loves him too, that he will stay with him. He's good at that, at being the good son, the good human, the one who does what he's told and cheers up the person he cares about, without a care for his own feelings. He can make sure that his existence doesn't trouble that person, that the person will never wish they hadn't gotten him, that they will never abandon him.

He's good at that. He did it for nineteen years, and then for a thousand, and he will continue to do it until the day he dies, because if Michael doesn't stay with him until the end, if he leaves, then Adam doesn't know what to do except lay down and die.

[avengerscompound]

Shared Experience - Chapter 10

Shared Experience - A Captain America Fanfic

Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Rating:  E

Warnings:  Injuries, blood, blood-drinking, sex talk and touching.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Rose Astor

Word Count: 1972

Summary:  Rose Astor met her end in 1920, joining the ranks of the living dead two years after the birth of Steve Rogers.  A century later the two meet in battle - a beacon of light clashing with a creature of the night.  Despite their differences, the two bond over their shared life experiences.  Can a vampire become an Avenger?  Can two such different beings create a life together?

Chapter 10

Blood spilled into Rose’s mouth and down her chin, warm, salty, and nourishing.  Rose tried to turn her head, to pull away, to stop from swallowing the very thing that could keep her alive.  She had never wanted something as much as this before, yet simultaneously she wanted it to stop, to push away and fight this from happening.  Steve was trying to feed her after spending months telling her no and she wanted it so badly, but if she started, she wasn’t sure that she could stop.

There was no stopping it.  Her injuries were too severe and even if she was strong enough physically to push him away, when she was this close to death she lost all humanity.  The instinct to survive pushed away all mortal thoughts and her body acted outside her control.  It would have been hard not just to bite him if he wasn’t bleeding freely into her mouth.  The fact he was, made it impossible.

She latched on, her hands going to his forearm and holding it in place as she drank.  Each swallow of the thick hot liquid reenergized her.  Her wounds knitted and her flesh filled back out.  Color returned to her skin.  The heat from the blood radiated through her until she felt like a furnace in the middle of the snowy forest.

Never had she felt the effect of blood so fully and to such an extreme as drinking from Steve now.  It was like drinking straight from the sun.  His blood surged through her, making her feel stronger and more alive than she could ever remember feeling.  Within minutes, she felt strong enough to run again, yet she couldn’t pull herself away.

Steve moaned.  It was a low and deep sound that reverberated out from his chest.  She looked up at him.  His head had lolled back on his shoulders and the look of pure bliss etched into his features made her tingle right through to her core.  She knew what it was like for the people she fed from.  The near-orgasmic feeling that vampires created for their victims was a defense mechanism.  It stopped them from struggling and meant the Vampire had more control over the outcome.

God, how she wished this wasn’t happening like this.  In the middle of the Russian Wilderness, buried in snow, and surrounded by HYDRA was not where she wanted to be sharing this with Steve.  She wanted to do this at home, in her bed, his cock buried as deep into her cunt as he could go.  She reached down and put her hand on his cock.  He was rock hard, even through the thick fabric of his combat wear she could feel the press of his cock.  He moaned again and pulled her closer to him.  “Rose…”

It was her name that snapped her out of it.  The way he breathed it, the love that it carried even in the throes of pleasure.  She released him and pulled back, scrambling away from him.  She needed a moment to compose herself and while the wound on his wrist was still open, she wouldn’t be able to.  It would heal quickly now she wasn’t feeding - another side effect of her feeding.  The wounds healed with no scar, so no one could guess what had happened.

Steve looked up at her dazed.  “Rose?” he asked.

“Just give me a second,” she panted.  Not that she was breathing heavily.  She wasn’t breathing at all.  It was just a way to regulate the blood flow and shake off the feeding frenzy that had taken over her.  “Are you okay?  Did I drink too much?”

Steve shook his head and looked down at his wrist.  The wound was mostly healed and he rubbed his hand over it.  “I’m okay… what was that?”

“That’s why it’s taken me so long to separate feeding from sex,” she said.  “Are you sure you’re okay?  We should probably get out of here.”

He stood and while he still looked a little dazed, he was steady on his feet.  She stood, shaking off the layer of snow that was clinging to her.  “We should find the others,” she said.  “I’ll need to go to ground soon.  Dawn is coming.”

Steve pointed the way he came.  “It’s that way, but we’ll have to move fast if you’re going to make it.”

“I guess we’ll go as far as I can.  If I need to bury myself, that’s okay.  You can mark it and find me tomorrow night,” she said.

He nodded.  “Let’s go,” he said.

The two began to run, tearing along the frozen landscape toward the rest of the Avengers.  The cold air stung Rose’s cheeks, yet she couldn’t remember ever feeling warmer or more alive.  Something about Steve’s blood had invigorated her.  It had given her some sense of life again.  More than that, it made her feel slightly high.

She kept her pace steady despite wanting to take off and test her limits.  She thought with this new boost she could run over water.  She felt invincible.

At the speed they moved, she was sure she’d find the jet and the others before the sun rose.  Unfortunately, she’d misjudged exactly how long she’d been awake for.  Lethargy began to kick in and she felt the animalistic urge to start to dig.  She kept pushing, determined to find something, and just as the first rays of light rose to the East, she spotted a small ice fishing cabin.  There were no signs of life around at all and while there was the risk of someone coming during the day, with all the HYDRA activity in the area, it was safe to assume no one would be coming to use it.

Surprising as it was to find any shelter in the Russian wilderness, the fact she could see sunlight and yet was both still awake and not burning was more surprising.

She pointed at the cabin to Steve. “I’m going there.  I need to get out of the open.”

He simply nodded and she ran as fast as she could, a mere blur in the snow, pushing the limits of her abilities.  Her skin was starting to blister and her energy waned as she reached the building that was no more than a box with a slanted roof.  With a massive heave, she shoved the pile of snow away from the door, yanked it open, and hurried inside.  Once out of the sun, her skin immediately healed, giving her an almost tanned look.  The cabin had bunks built into the far wall, each with a lumpy hole-ridden mattress and dusty blankets piled on them.  Closer to the door was a wood stove, and some shelves with tinned food and a bottle of what looked like moonshine.  Rose didn’t take long to take it in.  She rushed to the bed, pulled down the upper mattress to create a walled box under the lowest bunk, grabbed the blanket, and crawled under it.  As soon as the blanket was covering her entire body, her eyes closed.  She had lost consciousness before Steve had even reached the cabin.

Rose woke all at once.  She had expected to be colder than she was, but aside from the fact that whatever was in Steve’s blood had made her own body heat to above the ambient temperature, warmth radiated out from the other side of the room.  She shimmed out under the mattress that was protecting her from the light.  Steve was sitting on a rickety fold-out chair by the stove, looking over something on his tablet.  With the large coat he had on, he looked far too big for the chair and she wondered how it was even still in one piece.

He looked up at the sound and a smile lit up his features. “Wow,” he said.  “You look - different.”

She looked down at herself to try and see what he was talking about.  All she could see was the tattered ruins of her uniform.  She didn’t need coats like the others, but the outfit covered her neck to toe, including her hands.  There was a tear in the fabric on her chest, but the wound under it was completely healed.  “What is it?”

“You have a tan,” he said.  “I was worried when the sun came up.  You normally go into autopilot as soon as it gets close to dawn so you get somewhere dark and protected.  What happened?”

She shook her head. “Your guess is as good as mine.  I felt that urge, but I was able to overrule it, and when the sun started coming up, it burned but -” she shrugged.  “I guess it was your blood.  The super-serum.  I feel - alive.  Or as close to it as I have been since I was turned.”

Steve seemed to assess her.  The weight of his gaze was heavy and she felt like she was under a magnifying glass.  She wrapped her arms around her body, almost as if she was trying to protect herself.  “Is it always like that?” he asked, finally breaking the silence.

“The way you felt?” she asked.  He gave a short nod in reply.  “Yes.  I think it’s a survival thing.  It’s safer for us if you enjoy the experience.”

He didn’t say anything and she started to worry his feelings had changed about her.  She hadn’t wanted this.  She’d tried to resist feeding from him, but he’d forced it.  “Are you angry with me?” she asked.

He blinked and shook his head.  “Oh god, no,” he said, holding out his arms.  She moved into them instinctively and he held her close to his chest.  The steady even thud of his heart soothing her along with the strong arms.  “No, honey.  How could I be angry with you?  You’ve never lied to me about what you are.  This is just new - for both of us.  I wonder what it means.”

“I’m sure it will wear off,” she said.  “Like when you eat white bread.  A blood sugar spike and then drop.  By the time I need to feed again, it’ll be like it never happened.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I guess we’ll see.”

Rose closed her eyes and just let Steve hold her.  Yesterday had been a lot.  She’d had worse days in her life, but they’d been a long time ago.  Never had she had someone there to just comfort her like this after so much stress and pain.  Usually, the person she had to be with after it, was the same person who had inflicted the pain in the first place.

She pulled back slowly and looked up at him.  “Should we find the others?” she asked.

Steve laughed.  “Oh, they’re just outside,” he said.  He opened the door of the cabin to show her the view of the lake.  On the far side, the lights from the Quin reflected off the ice from the lake, glittering like stars.  The sounds of the rest of the team talking and preparing to leave floated over on the arctic wind.  “I stayed here through the day.  I thought a wood cabin near a town and a HYDRA base might be a little risky to leave you unguarded.  If someone else came to use it or hide in it, they’d just need to start a fire and that would be the end of you.  The rest of the team was off finalizing everything.  SHIELD arrived.  They made their arrests.  The base is in the process of being cleared out of illegal equipment.”

Rose sighed in relief and leaned against him again.  “So we can go home?”

“Yeah, we have some prisoners that need to be taken to the Raft,” he said.  “But yes, we can go home.”

// NEXT

[scarletcomet]

my therapist was trying to convince me that I'd miss out on all of these things if I died, but I really don't care??

[binders-and-beanies]

Pondering bottom surgery in the tags I mf guess

[izzy-b-hands]

im ngl i had a lil breakdown before my shower (which i took just before i went to bed to chill and watch the new eps) abt some thought-id-already-worked-all-thru-it irl stuff that resurfaced on me like trauma tends to and i just

it made everything in the show so. I don't know how to say it right. but i feel seen and understood and emotionally overwhelmed in a safe yet weird way, just like i did with a lot of s1 and I am Feeling So Much akdnfkgb (i cannot stress enough that this is a Good Thing and I'm absolutely thrilled and happy with the new eps and like. Going to be fine mentally I just gotta wrangle this like i have the times before.)

[hecksupremechips]

Girl like. The reason he said "this is how it should be" and faced death with a smile....is cuz he wanted to die. For 2 years he sat there thinking he was worthless and deserved to die. If he hadn’t be shot, his death would’ve been suicide, he was fully planning to die in a gutter somewhere undetected. When saying "this is how it should be" hes literally saying "don’t cry because I’m dying, my death is a good thing actually because I fucking suck and you are better off without me". I don’t think that’s badass even slightly, it’s actually really sad and really shitty. Shinjiro is so convinced that he deserves to die and hates the idea of anyone giving a shit about him because he literally can’t wrap his mind around the idea that he will be missed when he’s gone, that his death is a bad thing actually. And his last words were meant to be comforting because he fully did not intend for anyone to be there when he died, he intended to die alone, so he says them as a reminder that he’s not worth crying over

Personally, if it were me, if I was holding my dying best friend in my arms who was deeply depressed and suicidal and he said "this is how it should be" uh. I wouldn’t admire him for it??? Like am I losing my mind when I say the way this game handles Shinji is bad or is anyone else seeing this too 😰

[designernishiki]

kazumaji nation, if the pairing were to be canonized in y8, how do you imagine it happening? either realistically or ideally. go

[seraphim-soulmate]

hey guys. uninteresting news. once again having a pain flair up due to going to see my grandmother. why emotions so scary that body hurts? i want to listen to my emotions but i truly fear i will be swept away by the current.

[gatun-gatunesco]

...

[alongtidesoflight]

.

[doux-amer]

This has been one of the shittiest days in a while and to top it all off, I go on social media for the first time today right before bed to relax and the first thing I see (well, second after my friend's response to a bday message to her) is a dongseng I haven't talked to much or seen in years dropping a post about his announcement with no comment whatsoever. The news wouldn't have been any easier, but to get that from someone who doesn't fucking understand how devastating it is even though she must know that it's sad is the worst possible thing. What the fuck am I supposed to do with you dropping that? I don't want to give you a response! I don't owe you a response! Get the fuck away from me! I don't care that you didn't want to upset me because what the HELL did you think would happen by doing that? I'll send some crying emojis and a broken heart and that's so goddamn empty, but I'm not performing this for you and this is actually upsetting me so bad????? But I wouldn't expect a casual fan of a club that will go unnamed to understand. This isn't just sports to me.

If I had to get this news, I wish I saw it from someone who loves Jürgen as much as I do, whose life was irrevocably changed for the better because of him, who was here in the Before Klopp times, who never had a manager to love as much as we love him. And look at me managing to make myself tear up again.

I understand. After watching the clips on IG and that second one especially...he wants to leave while he's okay, he wants to leave on good terms and if possible on a high note instead of being kicked out after overstaying his welcome, he wants to enjoy life. And he so deserves that. He deserves to know what it's like to just be Jürgen, to be with his loved ones, to do nothing but to simply live. I have so much respect for him that he's going out this way, that he didn't take this decision lightly when he felt differently before (that renewal he signed...), when it's not about how much he loves us. Or rather, it is because he wants to give us his best and his all and he feels that he can't anymore and he's listening to his body and his mind. And he's setting a good example by showing what's really important in the end and taking care of himself. To show there's more to life than this and to be grounded and be a normal guy like he remained throughout even as his life became very abnormal.

God. I love him like I've never loved any manager before. The ones I loved pale in comparison to him. He is and will forever be everything to me, not just for what he gave to the club on the pitch but everything off the pitch from the values he instilled and emphasized to his humor and honesty and big heart and humility and passion and everything, and I'm just so gutted right now thinking about how we had almost a decade with him and I never took it for granted, but I really thought we had a few more years with him. And I thought several years ago about how much I needed to return to Anfield to see how things changed, to experience Jürgen's Liverpool on home ground, and how now that I had a job and steady income that I would be able to go to more matches or at least do it once before the end. And I didn't because of this stupid pandemic. All of that passed without a chance and just. I'm glad I got to at least watch them in person when they came to the U.S. even if it's not the same, but I feel like our time has been cut short and I really can't imagine a Liverpool without him. I never wanted to. I know that there will be because that's the nature of this sport and life and this sport has taught me there's always a beginning and always an end, but...nothing's going to be the same. Nothing's going to be like this. There will never be an era like the one we got under him. There will never be a manager like him.

[dekuneho]

no one else's ☆ ( ​thirdyear!katsuki x fem!reader ) mdni | suggestive

Kirishima taps Katsuki on the shoulder very gently, looking embarrassed as he chokes out, “Your girlfriend fell asleep on the couch.”

Katsuki would’ve brushed it off with a snap that anyone could use the fucking couch who gives a fuck, but his eyes slide to Kirishima’s other arm holding a disgruntled Mineta up. Immediately, Katsuki’s gut twists in displeasure, the pencil in his grasp snapping in half.

“Did you fucking do something?” Katsuki hisses out, yanking Mineta’s collar to face the full brunt of his sneer.

“No!” Mineta cries out, having the nerve to sound disappointed. “No, I didn’t, dude. Get off me.”

And before Katsuki could kill Mineta right then and there, Kirishima swerves him out of the way. Don’t get your hero license revoked over him, Kirishima’s eyes seem to say.

“He’s telling the truth, man, don’t worry about it.” Kirishima then glares soundly at Mineta, disappointment evident. “He was acting weird, though. That’s why I got him.”

“Traitor,” Mineta says, wriggling uselessly mid-air.

“I’ll kill you,” Katsuki swears to him, before storming off, each step heavy with pure murder.

The rest of the class is smarter than Mineta. They avert their gazes and mind their business — or it could be that they can sense the unadulterated rage emanating from every pore of his body.

Yet as he reaches you, every trace of that same rage dissipates into the air. His eyes outline your body, dead to the world, shorts hiked up with one leg curved — laid unaware. No wonder some freak like Mineta wanted to prey on it.

Katsuki sighs. "Always giving me damn trouble," he mutters to your sleeping figure, snorting when there's an answering snore.

He heaves you up and off the couch, arms hooking under your neck and the back of your knees. Katsuki pushes past the living room, ignoring the curious stares of his classmates. They all know where he's headed — straight to his room.

You awake to a pinch on your thigh.

When you come to, Katsuki is staring at you heavily, hovering above you with your head between his hands.

"Kats'ki?" you croak out, words stringing together. "Wha's…"

Katsuki begins to crawl down, and down, until his knees hit the floor; until he's face to face with your legs. You're still swimming through the sluggishness limbo of being half-awake, lagging behind only moments after Katsuki. You feel his grip on your ankle; it tickles, it's warm.

He lowers his head and pins your knee down with a searing kiss. The sensation spreads to your entire body. You shudder, toes curling. Katsuki smiles against you, his hands sliding up to your thighs.

"Too early," you whine. But you don't push him off; you press against him closer.

"'s already 6 AM," Katsuki says, pushing your legs open.

The touch of cold air and the sporadic puffs of Katsuki's breath have you sinking deeper into the bed, pleasure crawling in every part of your body that he's taking by force, in the gentlest way possible.

Katsuki latches his mouth onto the inside of your thigh, inching deeper at your gasp. You suck air through your teeth, taking every control you have left not to snap your legs shut and force Katsuki out. When he pulls off, your thigh is left with a clear bruise. He doesn't stop there — he dives in again on a different point.

"As soon as we get our ass here," Katsuki murmurs against your skin, his breath hot on your evening-chilled skin, "I'm taking you out; we'll go apartment-hunting."

"W-what?"

"And you can wear whatever the fuck you want," he continues, licking at the mark, "or nothin' at all — I don't give a shit. No one else, just us. You hear me?"

You sit up, nearly knocking your knee against Katsuki's face. "You're asking me to move in with you?"

Katsuki scowls, the telltale sign of a blush creeping to his face. "You have other plans?"

"No, no," you cup his cheek, kissing the pout of his lips; "never, if it's not with you."

Katsuki appears satisfied, claiming your lips in a deep kiss. You draw away from each other with a stuttered gasp, heat pooling in your stomach at Katsuki's delighted gaze. "No turning back," he whispers. "Got that? This'll be no one else's."

Dizzy with need, you can only say, "Yes, yes. No one else's but yours, Katsuki. Now, please go back in between my legs."