#shin is NOT hot. he is pathetic (affectionate)

[princesseevee06]

Obligatory introductory post for my YTTD Swap AU

So for the past couple weeks I’ve been cooking up some ideas for a swap AU. Basically the main idea is that Ryoko Hirose is the protagonist (I know she only gets like two minutes of screentime, but she’s my blorbo okay), and a lot of the other main characters are ones that didn’t get as much time to shine in the actual game. Information on the main 12 swaps, some notes for each character, and a few silly doodles under the cut!

Basically, the format of this will be that Character A > (takes the place of) Character B. So it’s not necessarily that two characters swap with each other, but Character A would swap with Character B, Character B would swap with Character C, and so on… These are mainly role swaps, but there are slight changes to characters’ personalities as well.

Ryoko Hirose > Sara Chidouin

- Ryoko is the protagonist.

- She and Joe swap places at the beginning of the game; Ryoko is the one to walk Sara home on the night of the kidnapping.

- Compared to Sara, Ryoko is a lot more of an extroverted and cheerful protagonist. She also has less patience, though, so she gets a bit exhausted putting up with the antics of the other participants and convincing everyone to work together.

- Because of her headstrong personality, Ryoko drags down Sara’s 15.5% win rate even more than Joe did. While this prevents Sara from becoming like she did in the AI test runs, it also significantly lessens Sara’s chances of survival, which ends up becoming an issue for her.

Sara Chidouin > Joe Tazuna

- Sara acts as the partner or “buddy” character for the majority of Chapter 1’s events.

- She’s quite similar to her canon personality, so really the biggest change when it comes to her is her dynamic with the other participants.

- Sara ends up drawing the Sacrifice card. When she learns what this means for her, she is understandably freaked out — during the first Main Game, her initial plan is to trick everyone so that she and Ryoko can escape alive.

- However, she isn’t able to go through with it. She doesn’t want to betray everyone, and she doesn’t want Ryoko to have to bear that guilt as well. Because of this, she ends up meeting her demise.

- With Sara gone, the overarching Death Game begins to take a different turn. While Ryoko is quite outspoken, she doesn’t have the same leader-like personality Sara has, and as such the participants are more disorganized.

Kai Satou > Keiji Shinogi

- Kai is the more overarching partner character for this AU, working to assist Ryoko.

- He’s still an assassin trained by Asunaro and he still watches over the Chidouin family. He also still tries to protect Sara, following her and Ryoko home on the night of the kidnapping.

- The main differences with Kai come from the fact that Sei survives through childhood in this universe. As a result, Kai is not as closed off, more open to showing his emotions to others.

- In the first Main Game, both Sei and Sara die, and Kai is absolutely wracked with grief over it. He definitely gets a lot worse off after this point for a while, consumed with guilt over the loss of his sibling and the girl he vowed to protect.

- Him and Ryoko end up bonding a lot, though, both because she’s a sweetheart and because they have to struggle through the loss of people they loved.

Kugie Kizuchi > Gin Ibushi

- Kugie plays the role of the “secondary” partner character, not playing quite as heavy a hand in the events of the plot but still being an important character, both to Ryoko and in general.

- She and Kanna get kidnapped together still, but Kanna is the one who ends up with the key in the First Trial. She decides to unlock Kugie’s restraints, but Kugie is unable to save Kanna before the time runs out.

- At the beginning of the Death Game, Kugie acts very uncooperative, unresponsive to the others’ attempts to get information out of her or to help her.

- When she starts coming out of her shell again, her personality is more of the independent, no-nonsense type. She’s very supportive and helpful to the people who want to work together, especially bonding with Ryoko and some of the more scared/vulnerable participants, but she can also be quite vicious to those who are antagonistic to the general group or are purposely hiding information.

- Essentially, the ‘cool’ older-sister type, who acts tough but is kind of a bleeding heart.

Sei Satou > Kai Satou

- Sidenote: Sei uses they/them pronouns in this AU! (because they are so very gender to me)

- In this universe, Sei survives past the events of the Kai mini episode, with Asunaro deciding there’s no better way to determine who the best assassin is than pitting Kai and Sei against each other in a Death Game (yay…).

- Upon learning the news, Gashu reacts similarly to how he does in the mini ep, starting to train Kai more and more while Sei gets left in the dust. Because of this, Sei ends up harboring a lot of unspoken resentment towards those two.

- As the two assassins grow up together, Kai is still unable to carry out his missions of killing others, and eventually Asunaro deems him unfit to be a part of the Death Game. Although, they never get the chance to dispose of him so-to-speak, as Kai ends up worming his way into the Death Game anyways through his attempt to protect Sara.

- During the Death Game, Sei initially acts cold to Kai, feeling scorned by their family because Kai is the clearly favored child. While the two do eventually reconcile, it ends up being too late, as Sei draws the Sage card and is executed during the first Main Game.

- I imagine Sei’s personality here would be a weird mix of child Sei’s and Ranger’s, perhaps akin to what Rio Laizer would’ve acted like if we saw more than…a few minutes of them. They act brash and childish, but under the surface they do care deeply about others and are really only yearning for attention.

Kazumi Mishima > Q-taro Burgerberg

- Mishima ends up surviving for a lot longer in this AU! He takes a general mentor role for the group, being as many of the participants are only children.

- He acts similar for the first part of the game, until the Second Trial where Nao dies instead of him. He’s devastated over losing one of his students, but he handles the grief a lot differently from Nao, taking more of an ‘escapist’ route where he tries to ignore the reality of the situation so he can stay strong for the others.

- Overall, his personality is pretty similar to his canon self. After Nao’s death, he bonds a lot with Kugie (the only other person who’s lost someone at that point), and the two try their best to encourage the other to take care of themselves.

Maple > Reko Yabusame

- Maple is a human in this AU! Because it’d be a little weird if her name was still just “Maple,” I’ve made it so that her real name is Mari Miyake, and Maple is just a nickname she prefers to go by.

- Her occupation is as a maid, and she works at the Tsurugi family’s bakery, essentially as Mai’s assistant.

- From Asunaro’s observations of her, they come to the conclusion that she would not sign the consent form on her own, and they would instead need to target someone close to her. They threaten Mai and her family’s safety, telling her to persuade Maple into signing the form or else.

- Because it’s now coming from someone she trusts, Maple ends up signing the consent form and is eventually whisked away to the Death Game.

- Personality-wise, Maple is a very kind and sweet person, trying to bond with even the ‘outcasts’ and scolding the younger participants if they place too large a burden on themselves. She gets along the most with Hinako, and acts as an older-sister figure to her.

Hinako Mishuku > Alice Yabusame

- The Hinako in this AU is the REAL Hinako (AKA the one with black hair). She survives her First Trial because she gets paired with Maple instead of Alice, and Maple is adamant on working with her so that they can both get out alive (which they do).

- After she gets out of her First Trial, Hinako is at a loss for what to do. Originally content to lay down her own life, now that she’s survived she feels indebted to the girl who risked her own life to save her.

- Eventually, much like Alice, she hides inside the locker in the Red Room after she hears gunshots from the Russian Roulette minigame, unsure of her surroundings and who she can trust. Ryoko ends up finding her.

- Initially, Hinako is very shy and apathetic, mostly clinging onto Maple for safety. Over the course of the Death Game she gains the courage to start sticking up for others, and tries to assist the group in whatever ways she can.

Nao Egokoro > Kazumi Mishima

- The Nao in this AU is more based off her aged-up design from YTTS. Basically, she’s older and a bit more mature, now out of art school and working as a painter. She tries to offer guidance to others for the time that she’s alive.

- Unfortunately, she does not last very long, becoming the first casualty of the main cast in the Second Trial. (I feel cruel for this, especially because I love Nao so much, but I really thought the swap with her and Mishima was interesting :((( )

Ranmaru Kageyama > Nao Egokoro

- Ranmaru survives his First Trial in this AU, becoming a prevalent supporting character throughout the Death Game. He gets along well with Ryoko, partnering up with her for the first investigation.

- All in all, there isn’t too much to say without spoiling later parts of the AU (he plays a much bigger part in the second chapter’s events) because he’s pretty similar to his canon self, but the most interesting part to me here is to see him go through the events he never got to see canonly.

Shin Tsukimi > Kanna Kizuchi

- Shin technically takes Kanna’s place here, but if I’m being real he acts pretty damn similar to his canon self as well. The most I could say is that he acts more like a constantly-agitated Shin rather than a full-on Sou copycat, but he’s still rather antagonistic in nature.

- He still sees his 0.0% percentage, and still takes on the Sou Hiyori alias, but things get more complicated when he realizes the real Sou Hiyori is also a participant in this game.

- Sou and Shin have a more favorable relationship in this universe, and so ultimately the two end up working together (a sort of antagonist duo? i guess?). The consensus is that the two of them ‘swap’ identities, with Shin pretending to be Sou and Sou pretending to be Shin. That way, Shin can still act out his plan to evade his ‘certain death.’

- His behavior mostly stays the same over the course of the first chapter’s events, although he actually is the Keymaster in the first Main Game, which leads to him taking a more prominent role in the discussion and not being mistrusted quite as much (though he still is mistrusted).

- After Sara’s death, he’s admittedly confused knowing her super high percentages. Because of this, his suspicion moves more towards Ryoko, Sara’s mysterious friend who happened not to have a win rate listed at all.

Sou Hiyori > Shin Tsukimi

- This universe’s Sou is mildly softer than his canon counterpart. I say mildly because he’s still rather murderous, but he isn’t entirely apathetic to the plight of the other people trapped in the Death Game (and actually ends up bonding with a few of them!).

- As another sidenote, Sou is never ‘murdered’ by Alice here (and Alice never goes to jail), and he is actually still 100% human.

- Basically, much like Kai, Sou ultimately betrays Asunaro, although his reasons for doing so are a bit different. Asunaro refuses to let Sou participate in the Death Game, already having plans for him as a floormaster. This is the initial spark leading to his betrayal, but there are other reasons as well (I could get more into it here, but the post is already super long and most of this doesn’t come into play until much later in the story. …I’ll save that post for a rainy day)

- Sou is very much ride-or-die for Shin and tries to sway the outcomes of the game so he can survive for longer. In the first chapter, this includes screwing around with the role cards so Shin “incidentally” finds the Keymaster card and Sara “incidentally” finds the Sacrifice card.

- Sou tries to take on the persona of Shin Tsukimi, acting sweet and innocent with the other participants. While this certainly fools a good chunk of them, those who are more perceptive can tell that something is Not right with this guy.

- Additionally, Kai and Sei already know who Sou is in this universe and that he’s affiliated with Asunaro. Because the three of them all have ties to the organization, they basically form a deal of “I won’t tell if you don’t tell” for the time being. That being said, the Satou siblings still do not trust Sou at all.

Ok WOW this was a long post I am so sorry. I needed to spew out all my brainrot because this has been plaguing me for weeks. That being said, I plan to make more content for this AU in the future when I have the time, including lots of dumb art. If any of y’all find interest in this idea, feel free to ask me any questions about this AU! It’s still in its baby stages so things are definitely prone to change overtime, but I’ll be glad to give the best answers I can ^_^

Now for my favorite part, silly doodles:

[slashedthroughtheheart]

Patched up with the doc

'For a request, would it be okay if I asked for Herman taking care of a reader who got injured outside of a trial? I do kind of want it to be an angsty moment at first, but it just turns into fluff and comfort. I don't want smut or anything. Just Herman being a gentleman and showing the reader his affectionate, caring side. They both might not admit it at first, but they really like each other and always wanna be extremely close; Hugs and cuddles.'

This was the prompt, and here's what I went with! Enjoy a bit shorter of a fic featuring our good doctor, Herman Carter, taking care of a slightly belligerent reader!

It was just like any other day. You’d gone to the saloon in Glenvale with a few other survivors to just hang out. You couldn’t remember what you went out onto the upper deck wrapping around the saloon for, but you were cursing yourself for it now.

It was humiliating to be dangling with one leg partway through the broken floorboard. Whatever reason you had for coming out here was not worth it as you tried to pull yourself back up without further hurting yourself.

You weren’t having much luck, low curses leaving you as you prayed no one would come out to check on you. The last thing you needed was any of the other survivors, or entity forbid, any of the killers, to see you in such a pathetic position.

Being clumsy and mucking up a gen or two was bound to happen. Not making it to a pallet in time, no big deal. But something this pitiful was not something you wanted anyone to know about or see. You would never live it down.

You could picture the laughing stock you’d become if people caught wind that you literally fell through the floor and hurt yourself. You fell from greater heights during trials and had no problem rolling through it on the balls of your feet. Hell, there was that place in the Gideon meat plant that was way higher than the saloon and you’d never had trouble with that.

One last growl of frustration left you before a sharp intake of pain left you holding still after you definitely stabbed yourself on part of the broken board.

A barely audible whimper followed not soon after, the splintering wood jabbing at your torn skin. You could feel the blood dripping down your shin from where you had scraped yourself up, and from the fresh stabbing from trying to free yourself.

And just as you were going to try to move a different way, you heard the footsteps make creaks from somewhere behind you.

This was the worst case scenario, you could hear it was someone heavier than any of the survivors that had come with you. There’s no way Feng’s or Meg’s footsteps would be that loud.

Dread filled your heart as you whipped your head around, grimacing as your shift made the wood dig into you again.

And the eyes that landed on you lit up green when they saw the position you were in, awkwardly hunched onto the deck, obvious pain on your face and one leg dangling at just above the knee into the broken hole.

“Here, let me help you, my dear.”

Herman took purposeful steps towards you, intent on helping you free yourself and seeing to your wounds he caught the slightest glimpse of when you shifted in place.

“NO!”

He stopped, shocked at your sudden outburst.

You held an almost trembling hand up, as if that would keep him at bay. And it did, for a moment.

“I-I’m fine. I can do it myself. I don’t need any help, I’ll be fine.”

And as if the universe was amused in your suffering, when you tried to lift yourself once more from the jagged hole, a piece of wood lodged deeper into the beginning of your thigh, causing you to gasp out and almost choke on your pain.

“You don’t seem fine, y/n. Please let me at least assist you in getting out, I insist.” He’d moved forward a few steps, approaching slower, and eyeing the floorboards cautiously now.

You struggled again, throwing the same hand back up as you grit your teeth.

“I said no! I don’t want your help!” The tears were pricking at the corners of your eyes, stinging like you’d just cut up onions. Your nose burned as you held them in. The pain and humiliation leaving you a mortified and stubborn mess.

He hadn’t stopped in his approach, moving to the side and gently touching your arm with his hand, rubbing a small soothing circle on your shoulder.

“While any other time you saying no I would listen, I really must insist. You have injured yourself quite seriously, and are having a difficult time freeing yourself. I’ll get you up and out of that, and then we can head to Lérys and get you cleaned up. You’re sure to have splinters, and those are nearly impossible to remove on ones own, especially at the angle you’ve got them at.”

He sounded so matter-of-fact that you couldn’t even argue further, just holding in the tears and trying desperately not to sniffle and sound even more pitiful than you were sure you looked.

You tried to reason with yourself that at least it was Herman to find you and not someone like Danny or Frank. They would have probably laughed at you and gotten everyone else to come out and point and laugh with them.

You tried not to break down into tears of frustration as Herman moved around to your front, being careful of where he stepped and testing out the weight first before fully committing to the step.

He bent over, taking a moment to observer where the most damage was that he could see, the front of you leg just above the knee.

He simply hummed out in acknowledgment as he saw a rather large sliver of wood having made its home in your thigh, looking rather painful.

“Alright, I’m going to move you back just a bit and then lift you straight up. You might bump into the boards, but I’ll be able to get you up and standing just fine.” His hands moved to under your arms, taking care with his grip so as not to cause you any further discomfort.

At this point, you mutely accepted defeat, simply letting him take the lead as he adjusted you minutely before finally lifting you up, your leg not even brushing against the boards.

You felt even more miserable as you realized just how easily he’d gotten you out versus your own painful struggling that ended up with you hurting yourself more than doing any helping.

Once he had you out of the hole, you’d expected him to set you down on your own feet, but you were not expecting him to only rest you on them for a moment only to lean down to scoop you into his arms, injured leg on the outside.

At your bewildered look, he smiled gently. “Can’t have you walking with your leg like that, and Lérys is a bit of a walk.”

You wanted to protest, but at the same time you were getting your first good look at your leg, and maybe you really should just let him help you patch it up.

You weren’t even sure if Claudette could truly help fixing it up at this point.

So instead of fighting him on it, you nodded numbly, withdrawing into yourself so you wouldn’t give into the urge to start bawling like you’d been struggling with the whole time.

He went down the back steps, avoiding alerting any of the others to your condition, having noted that you were not in the mood to have anyone see you like this. You hadn’t even wanted him to help you, going so far as to try to pull yourself up and hurting yourself further.

No words passed between the two of you as he made his way towards Lérys, avoiding anyone else that you might have gone by with ease.

The relief you felt when he finally crossed the threshold into his realm was visible, pulling a very soft chuckle from him. It was nothing like his usual laughter. This laugh held a gentle mirth in it, a light but non-judgemental amusement.

“Rest assured, y/n. Your dignity is safe with me.” His thumb rubbed a small but soothing circle on the arm it was pressed against as he finally made his way into the building of the hospital, making a beeline for the closest room with the right equipment in it he’d need.

After carefully placing you on the hospital bed inside the room, he immediately went about gather the supplies he would need onto a rolling tray.

It did not take him much time at all to ready everything. There was a bottle of antiseptic, two pairs of tweezers, one big and one small, some gauze, a needle and some suture thread. It seemed you’d be getting stitches today.

At least these would be in a sterile environment with steady hands, unlike the ones you received during trials.

A meek “Thank you.” barely made it past your lips, your gaze staring at the gashes in your shin and the bit of wood protruding from your thigh.

Herman looked up from his readying of items, a soft smile gracing his features.

“It is not a problem, y/n. You were in distress, and I am more than happy to help.” He reached out, patting your uninjured leg for a moment before returning to the task at hand.

At his touch, you felt a warmth blossom in your chest, but you didn’t want to think about that right now. So you instead locked your gaze on your leg as he started meticulously cleaning your wounds and removing all the splinters you’d managed to get.

After the first touch sent near white hot pain through your body, you’d decided it was probably best not to watch so you laid yourself back, staring instead the ceiling as you balled your fists in an attempt to stay as still as possible.

Thankfully, the good doctor was precise in his movements and had you sufficiently patched up in seemingly no time at all. Considering the amount of damage, having to sit still for 20 minutes really hadn’t been that bad.

You let out a shaky breath in response to his question of how you were doing, still trying to hold your tears that had never left you in.

The weight of his palm against your upper arm startled you into opening your eyes and looking up at the now blue eyes of the doctor.

“It is okay, y/n. It’s understandable that this kind of injury is quite painful, especially considering the entity will likely not heal it until your next trial.” There was understanding in his face, a tenderness you’d never seen on him before.

It was foreign, but not unwelcome. You still felt plenty embarrassed by your situation, but the voice inside your head happily reminded you that it could have been worse.

Although, at the gentle press of his hand, the dam that had been holding back your emotions finally burst.

Hot tears trickled out the sides of your eyes to disappear into your hair behind your ears, the sensation feeling strange and only adding to your already frazzled nerves.

You sniffed once, twice, then let out a small but frustrated sounding whimper as your hands came up to rub almost viciously against your eyes.

Why of all times to loose your cool was it in front of a killer? Granted, he’d helped you and had never treated you poorly outside of trials, but this was beyond mortifying.

Your outburst didn’t phase him, knowing that the survivors already had a stressful enough existence with the trials and not having their own places unlike the killers. Living in a makeshift tent with just the campfire to keep the place lit up wasn’t easy for any of them.

He moved his hand to the top of your head, gently running his hand down it a few times, effectively petting your hair while he let you cry it out.

You instinctively turned into the touch, your body curling in on it’s side while you reached out blinding to grab the hem of his shirt while you tried your hardest to cry quietly.

Content with just letting you take your time, he continued the gentle petting of your hair, taking a small step closer so your arm wasn’t so outstretched.

A low hum left him, intent on soothing you in any way he could.

He’d been a bit off put by your almost venomous refusal of his help at first, but looking down at you as you slowly stopped crying, the hiccups starting and seeing you scrub your sleeve at your face to try and wipe away the tears there.

His other hand moved to stop you from rubbing your face anymore, offering you the pocket square he always had one him.

“No need to dirty your clothes when this is here. It is what it was meant for, after all.”

His encouraging smile was enough to have you taking it with no resistance.

And after you’d dried your face and blown your nose, he helped you sit up, hand lingering at your arms for a moment before he tilted his head.

“I know this is rather unorthodox, but would you like a hug? I believe it would benefit you, and to be completely honest, I wished to comfort you so this whole time.” His eyes were a gentle white now, as he waited patiently for your response.

A light blush took over your face, trying not to feel any smaller than you already felt.

Turning your face away before giving a small nod had him smiling at your own bashfulness.

And that’s how the first hug you’d received after coming to the entity’s realm happened. And there was many more to be had with the doctor, as you had been quick to find out.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad accepting help sometimes.

[malmuses]

The lovely folks who have been reading along with Russian to the Altar had been asking for a little bit of Cas POV. They want to know if he’s having the same experience as Dean, or if this is different on his side, what he’s thinking, how he feels.

Well.

I obliged.

However, I don’t think that this was quite what was hoped for when those requests first came in...but it is what worked best for the story, at present, and I think it’s a valuable insight for readers to have during the upcoming chapters. So here ya go, lovely readers.

***Spoilers for Russian to the Altar below the cut!***

  The heavy winter comforter that Dean had outfitted his guest room with suddenly felt suffocatingly hot, to Castiel.

Guest room. It hadn’t felt like a guest room for months. It had felt like his room, his home. But now Castiel lay paralyzed in the dim moonlight that seeped through the window at the front of the house, overlooking the street beyond, and it didn’t feel like his home anymore. Perhaps it never had been. Perhaps he’d only been fooling himself. It hadn’t been about the room, though, of course. It wasn’t the furniture, rescued from estate sales and done up on Dean’s own time, or the freshly painted walls, or the books on the shelves, or the typewriter at the desk. None of those had been home.

Dean had been home. Or so Castiel thought.

The wan moonlight, often romantic and soft and pretty, was nothing but mocking. Dean’s breaths weren’t even on the other side of the bed, he was still awake. He probably wanted…he probably wanted, needed, to talk some more. To be comforted. Dean was often chatty, very snuggley and affectionate after they scened together—Castiel loved it. But right then, every inch of his body that Dean was touching felt like an uncomfortable brand, the heat and the weight of him too much.

Castiel twisted, pulling his arm out from underneath Dean and pushing back the covers, hoping, praying, that Dean couldn’t hear the way his breathing had notched up and become uneven.

“Cas?” Dean mumbled, sleepy. “Y’okay?”

“Yes, of course,” Castiel said quickly, reaching out to smooth a hand over Dean’s shoulder beneath the bedding. “Sleep. I just need to use the bathroom.”

The lie felt wrong on his lips. Why, when all they’d done for months was lie? Why, when everything that had mattered was just false words?

Castiel wanted to snarl at himself for being so dang melodramatic, but it was all he could do to walk steadily to the bathroom and not let his steps falter. The door closing behind him was a precious gift, a couple of inches of wood that hid him and allowed his shoulders to slump, allowed his face to crumble, and didn’t expect him to lie.

Castiel pressed his bare shoulder blades back against the cool wood. He rested there for a moment as the carefully held nonchalance melted from his posture, and then allowed himself to slump downwards. He slid slowly down the door, pulling up his knees, one arm wrapping around his naked shins to pull them close while his other hand tried, feebly, to clamp his lips shut against the heaving breaths that had begun hissing through his teeth.

His face crumpled, and he was done; with no energy left to hold it in, all Castiel could do was reach over and quickly turn on the tap in the bathtub, flipping it over to the shower. Water thundered down, loud in the dark, empty room.

Maybe the sound could cover his shaking sobs. Maybe it could hide him for a little longer.

Cas had no idea how long he sat there in the dark. He lost track of time.

His cheeks were sticky with tears, his teeth hurt from grinding together, trying to bite back the sobs, and his shoulders ached from shaking. Slowly, slowly, as his breathing eased and he felt like he could actually begin to fill his lungs, Castiel let go of his knees, beginning the long, arduous, Everest-like climb back to his feet.

It seemed to take everything he had to stand back up, but regardless, he reached over and finally flicked on the light. The room was steamy from the shower running. Castiel leaned on the edge of the sink, reaching out the smear the mist from the glass so that he could see himself beyond. His hair was wild from being tugged at while he cried, and his eyes were puffy and red-rimmed. Castiel swiped angrily at his face; he looked like an idiot, but he couldn’t help the tears.

He felt like an idiot.

One foot at a time, Castiel climbed into the shower, his feet squeaking on the bottom of the tub. The water was a little too hot, but he didn’t care. Maybe it would sear away the heavy feeling that was pulling him down.

Castiel stood for long minutes with his features turned up into the spray, letting it beat against his face, his eyes squeezed shut. His hands hung limply at his sides, his shoulders slumped, and he merely stood, breathing in the steam, his thoughts chasing him around his own head.

“About us,” Dean had said, and for a moment—one precious, light moment—Castiel had believed.

Believed that maybe Dean felt the same as he did.

Castiel leaned forward, pressing his damp forehead against the chill tile of the wall. Stupid, stupid, stupid, he thought. He’d let himself begin to think that Dean’s feelings were changing, recently.

Since their immigration interview, since they’d celebrated and kissed and made love in Castiel’s bed…he’d really thought that it all meant something. That now, maybe with the interview out of the way, that they’d grown closer, that they were making progress.

It turned out, that was all in Castiel’s head. Dean didn’t see this the way he did, clearly.

It was his own fault—he couldn’t be mad at Dean, you couldn’t be angry at someone for not loving you back. He was mad at himself, though. For letting this happen, for falling so far with no safety net below.

Grabbing blindly for his shower gel, Castiel squeezed a big dollop into his palm and began to robotically wash down his arms and chest. He tried to scrub away the ache in his chest, but he had no more luck with that than he did the much more physical ache in other parts of his body.

Letting out a sigh into the water, Castiel shook his head. That had just been one in a series of his dumb mistakes, it seemed.

Raking shampoo through his hair, Castiel told himself that the bubbles were stinging his eyes. It definitely wasn’t that he had an overwhelming urge to cry some more.

Every time he let himself think that he and Dean were on the precipice of something…he always fell down the cliff.

He wasn’t sure he could get back up, this time.

Of course, just the thought of leaving brought nothing but more aching in his stomach, more burning in his eyes, and more thumping of his heart against his ribcage.

I’m such a fool, he thought miserably.

Castiel focused on getting clean, washing away the salt of tears and the musk of sex, sluicing away the lube and the sweat that less than an hour before had felt so different. He’d been so happy.

He couldn’t remember when he’d fallen in love with Dean.

A full-blown crush had developed within days of meeting him, of course—Dean was gorgeous, and funny, and far more talented than he gave himself credit for. He was also kind, and generous—and yes, grumpy, and sarcastic, and stubborn, and hot-headed, and prone to being messy, and drinking too much when it suited him. But he had a fierce love for his family and friends, he was loyal and he was always putting others first…and that crush had exploded in a shower of butterflies before Castiel had known what hit him. He’d never stood a chance.

Loving Dean felt inevitable.

To be rejected, then, not only not to be loved back but to be constantly reminded of the fact by Dean’s own words…that was torture. It had been the stupidest thing he’d done—Castiel now knew—to give in to the physical connection between them both.

Oh, it was fantastic. Incredibly hot. They were almost ineffably compatible, sexually.

But it ripped Castiel’s heart out every time, and left it beating alone on the floor.

Castiel just couldn’t say no to Dean, in any way that mattered.

And now he was paying for it with his heartbreak. He knew he should leave. He knew that this, this feeling, this broken, desperate collapse on a bathroom floor that had led to him sobbing in the shower…this was no way to live. But…

But.

Sometimes…no, often. Castiel was sure, so sure, that he had it wrong.

The way Dean looked at him…the way Dean held him back. The way his forest green eyes softened every time Castiel came near him—Castiel could gaze at those eyes for hours. Dean’s eyes were the green of summertime, and they could revive Castiel’s dried up soul no matter how long his day had been.

He couldn’t be imagining all of that, could he?

Conscious that he’d been standing in the shower much longer than the average person should, Castiel reached out and wrapped his wrinkled fingers around the knob, turning off the water. Pulling back the curtain, he soon realized that in his pathetic state, he hadn’t checked if there were any towels.

So Castiel stood, shivering on the shaggy bath mat, dripping dolefully dry while he worked up the courage to head back to bed.

He didn’t have it.

So, eventually, Castiel rubbed his tired face and turned off the light. He’d grab some pants and head downstairs, stretch a little, meditate. Try and center himself and make sense of his head. Try to find reason, and work out if…if he was strong enough to keep putting himself through this, to keep waiting. Keep hoping.

There was no sleep for Castiel that night.

 ***

Yes, I popped that gif in there because it hurts me and sometimes pain should be shared.

Cling on to that happy ending, folks...it’s coming <3

Also, please don’t throw things at me. I have squishy parts.

- Mal <3

[bearly-writing]

Under The Skin (Part 2)

Fandom: Batman

Prompt: Burns

Characters: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne

Warnings: Burns, Acid burns, Permanent injury, Career-ending injuries

Summary: “It’s my fault.”Jason isn’t sure why he says it, because it isn’t - he knows it isn’t. But the words bubble up out of his throat without permission. Drop, heavy as stones, into the stillness of the air.

This is the follow up to a fic that @chestnutcats requested for my badthingshappenbingo if you haven’t read the first part, I would suggest doing that before reading this, but please mind the warnings! :)

Read it on AO3 here!

Read the first part here!

“It’s my fault.”

Jason isn’t sure why he says it, because it isn’t - he knows it isn’t. But the words bubble up out of his throat without permission. Drop, heavy as stones, into the stillness of the air.

Bruce lifts his head - with what looks like a monumental effort - to meet his gaze. Jason is hovering in the doorway, afraid to step fully into the room. There’s no reason not to, but Jason is hesitant to disturb the morbid plateau: Dick still and silent and horribly lifeless on the bed, Bruce leaning over him, head cupped in his hands, like a man seeking benediction.

Bruce looks at him for a long time in silence. Then: “Is it?”

Maybe Jason was trying, subconsciously, to get in ahead of Bruce. Sometimes it’s easier to get the blame out there - to know exactly where everybody stands rather than waiting for all of the festering hatred to explode. If Jason holds his hands up now, it will be one less thing for Bruce to throw back in his face later.

Jason shrugs. “It was my mission. Dick wasn’t even supposed to be on it.”

“You both made a mistake,” Bruce says, calm and reasonable and Jason hates him a little bit for it. “It was no one’s fault.”

“I should have tried harder to take his place.”

Bruce’s face tightens, brows pulling low over his eyes, mouth a black line. He turns fully in his chair to face Jason. “Don’t say that.”

Jason shrugs. “Why not? It’s what everyone is thinking.” And he hates the little tremble in the words but he can’t flatten it out. “It would have been better for you if I’d taken a dunk. One less problem to -“

“Don’t say that,” Bruce snaps, sudden and loud enough that Jason flinches. Then, softer: “Nobody thinks that. Not me and certainly not Dick.”

The reminder has Jason turning back to the bed. Not that he can really see his brother through the mess of wires and the white sheets pulled up to Dick’s chin. He was awake earlier, before he had been rushed into surgery, clinging to Jason’s hand with bruising strength, asking alternately for Bruce or John Grayson or his dad - and who knows who he had meant by that. Bruce’s face had just gotten grimmer and grimmer until Dick had been whisked away and Jason had slipped into the background in a way he’d had mastered since childhood.

Even without looking at him, Jason can feel the weight of Bruce’s gaze, heavy against his face, before Bruce drops his eyes back to the lumpy bed sheets covering Dick’s legs. Something pinches in Jason’s chest, tight and painful. Hesitantly, he steps into the room and rests a careful hand on Bruce’s back. It’s more physically affectionate than either of them have been for a long time, but Bruce doesn’t shrug him off and Jason will admit - not to Bruce, of course - that it’s nice to comfort him.

“He’ll be alright though, won’t he?”

And maybe it’s more of a reassurance for himself than it is for Bruce. And maybe his voice shakes a little as he says it.

Bruce shrugs, huge shoulders rolling under Jason’s palm.

“They don’t know. He’ll need more surgeries, and if the grafts don’t work, they’ll have to consider amputation.”

Amputation. Jesus. For some reason Jason had imagined Dick bouncing right back - a few weeks of recovery, maybe. Maybe some new scars. Some reduced mobility. Not amputation. Not...this.

“He’ll never be Nightwing again.”

A strange, electric shock shoots down Jason’s spine. The vigilante’s name seems so sharp and loud in the muted hush of the hospital room. Strange and too large in Bruce’s mouth. Jason is used to the name spoken in Batman’s gravelly tones. Hearing it in the small, defeated voice of his dad is an uncomfortable shock.

And trust Bruce to be worried about that above anything else.

“Who fucking cares about that? He could - he could have died! He’ll be scarred for fucking life!”

The expression on Bruce’s face when he turns to Jason honestly scares him a little. There’s a storm behind Bruce’s dark eyes. Lines around his mouth so deep that they could be carved into his flesh.

“How dare you -“

“No!” Jason interrupts, too loud, too sharp, and his voice cracks pathetically over the words. “How dare you. He’s more than what he’s worth to you. He’s more than -“

Bruce surges out of his chair so suddenly that Jason flinches. Despite how much Jason has grown, how much he’s filled out, how much muscle he’s packed on, he still feels terribly small beneath Bruce’s towering figure. Even as a civilian, Bruce’s anger is something dangerous.

“Don’t,” Bruce snaps and his voice does not crack. “Don’t you dare presume that I only care for my son because of what he can do.”

Jason sneers nastily, fear turned to anger. It’s always been Jason’s fallback. When he was small and vulnerable on the streets, it was better to be angry than scared. Even now, Jason prefers the hot rush through his veins to that cold, creeping chill.

“Your son?” He scoffs. Gets right in Bruce’s face. Refuses to back down. “That’s a bit fucking rich. When have you ever -“

A small noise cuts Jason off before he can finish his scathing retort. In the silence that follows, he can hear that the steady, rhythmic beeping in the background of the room has sped to something frantic. Then, another soft noise. Bruce’s head whips to the bed a half-second before Jason’s does. Then Bruce is leaning over it, one hand dropping to Dick’s head, the other resting gently on his arm.

“Dick?” And his voice has dropped to something soft and quiet and warm. Something that makes Jason’s chest hurt and his throat feel too dry. “Are you awake, chum? You’re OK.”

Dick’s head rolls against the pillow. His eyes are half-open, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks. His mouth is slack, dark and wet. His throat works.

“Bru’sssss?”

“I’m here.” One big hand strokes through Dick’s hair. His eyelashes flutter again. “I’m here chum. Can you open your eyes?”

“Nnnnnn’”

But Jason can see the gleam of blue eyes under his lids. One of Dick’s hands comes up to fiddle with the cannula resting beneath his nose and Bruce catches his wrist and pins it gently to the bed.

“Don’t touch that,” Bruce murmurs. And it’s so like Bruce had sounded in those early days, when Jason had been sick, or had a nightmare, or just felt a bit down, that it makes the back of Jason’s throat feel wet.

“Jay?” Dick asks, slurring the word like a drunkard.

“He’s right here.”

Bruce’s eyes lift to meet Jason’s. There’s a warning in his gaze, dark and heavy, and Jason peels his lip back in a sneer. Jason doesn’t need to be told to behave. It’s not Dick he’s angry at.

“I’m here, Dickie-bird.”

When Jason steps up to the bed, Dick’s eyes focus on him with startling clarity. It’s as if a switch has been flipped - as if Dick has suddenly come back to himself. His eyes are bright and sharp, assessing.

“You’re OK,” Dick murmurs, almost to himself, except Jason and Bruce are both crowded close enough to hear him.

Jason’s throat feels too tight. Of course Dick would be worried about him.

“I always am.” Jason manages a tight smile. His hands clench and unclench at his sides. He isn’t entirely sure what to do with them. Doesn’t know if he should touch Dick or not. “You should worry about yourself, huh?”

And that’s probably the wrong thing to say, because Dick’s face goes tight and the heart rate monitor speeds and Bruce shoots him a glare from across the bed.

“How bad is it?” Dick whispers. And he isn’t looking at Jason anymore, or at Bruce, staring blankly at the ceiling instead.

For all his faults, Bruce has never shied away from telling them the truth. Never hidden that sort of thing from them. He grimaces, but he doesn’t tiptoe around the subject. He tells Dick, in a surprisingly calm voice: “You have third and second degree burns on your thighs, knees and shins. They’ve stabilised you as best they can with grafts taken from your back.”

He swallows around the last word. Dick doesn’t react, just stares blankly upwards, jaw tight.

“You’ve suffered serious nerve damage. It’s - it’s unlikely that you’ll ever regain full mobility. And if the grafts don’t take they’ll have to consider amputation.”

It’s too blunt and Dick takes the words like a blow, head jerking, eyes clenching shut. “Amputation?” He manages, squeezed out between his teeth.

“I’m sorry.”

Dick shakes his head. Bruce’s fingers tighten around his wrist but Dick doesn’t even seem to notice, as if his arms are as disconnected from him as his legs. A tear slips over his cheek, silvery in the fluorescent glow of the hospital lights, bright against his dark skin.

“Do you need more pain meds?” Bruce asks, grim and uncomfortable, the hand not gripping Dick’s wrist hovering over the morphine drip snaking into Dick’s arm.

Typical. Sometimes Jason forgets exactly how emotionally constipated Bruce is.

“No,” Dick croaks, eyes still shut. Another tear follows the first. “I need this to not have happened.”

Jason’s chest hurts. He should have tried harder. If he had gotten free earlier...if he had convinced Harvey to let him take Dick’s place…

“I’m sorry,” Jason whispers.

His hands clench, then unclench again. Hesitantly, Jason touches Dick’s shoulder, ready to pull away if Dick shrugs him off. He doesn’t. Instead, Dick turns, opening his eyes to meet Jason’s gaze. They’re wet with tears, hazy with pain, or maybe with the morphine pumping into his veins.

“I’m so sorry. I should have - I should have gotten you out sooner. I should have tried harder to take your place. I -“

He swallows. Can’t finish. Across the bed, Bruce is frowning at him. His gaze feels heavy against Jason’s skin.

Dick frowns too, a slow crease across his face. When he blinks, his eyes stay shut a fraction of a second too long.

“Shut up,” he says, but there’s no heat behind the words, just a bone-deep tiredness, the soft edge of exhaustion.

The hand that Bruce isn’t holding onto lifts to grip Jason’s wrist, connecting them in an awkward chain. Like they’re at a seance or something. The urge to reach across the bed and take Bruce’s other hand is surprisingly strong. Jason ignores it.

“Just shut up.” A wet swallow. A hitching breath. “God. Why does everything - just stop it. It’s not your fault. It’s just -“

This time when he swallows, it sounds more like a gag. Across the bed, Bruce looks devastated, so pained that Jason feels like he’s taken a blow to his chest. Dick’s eyes slide shut, his face tense, and more tears slide over his cheeks. After a long moment his face goes slack. The rapid beeping of the monitor eases into something less frantic.

Bruce slumps like a puppet with its strings cut. An answering hollowness carves out Jason’s chest. When Bruce looks back up at him, Jason has to swallow hard against the sudden, swollen lump in his throat.

“He’s right, Jason,” Bruce says, so softly that Jason almost doesn’t hear him. “This wasn’t your fault.”

For a long moment, Jason just stares back at him, throat working, struggling against the bile trying to surge up from his churning stomach.

Then, finally: “Fuck you,” spat from between his teeth. “I don’t need you to...I don’t need your permission.”

Something hot presses behind his eyes, swelling in the hollows of his skull. Pins and needles prickle over his face, his neck, his chest, tightening his skin. The words feel solid in his throat. Bruce just looks at him, evenly.

“Fuck you,” Jason manages again, before he turns on his heels and storms out.

***

“Just a few more.”

“I can keep going.”

Jason doesn’t think Dick can. The words are so tight that Jason is surprised they didn’t snap against his teeth and Dick’s face is white and bloodless, damp with tears that Jason has been pretending not to see.

“I’m sure you can,” the PT says, pleasantly, as he sets Dick’s leg carefully back on the bed and eases the other - less heavily bandaged - one into his hands. “But we don’t want to push too hard while your grafts are still healing.”

“But I need -“ Dick cuts off to grit his teeth, jaw clenching so hard that Jason can practically hear it creak as the therapist manipulates him into a careful stretch. When he manages to speak again, his voice sounds rough and wrecked. “I need to keep going. I need - I need this to work.”

Jason winces. Curls his hands into fists and presses them hard against his stomach to try to stem some of the guilt bubbling away in there. Dick sounds so small, so broken. It hurts to hear.

The therapist - David, Jason thinks he remembers - frowns. “You’ve been doing very well, Richard, and your...enthusiasm for physical therapy is certainly refreshing.” He smiles. Dick does not smile back. “But we don’t want to risk any damage.”

Even as he says it, he flexes Dick’s knee and Dick hisses in pain, hands claws around the white sheets underneath him.

“And remember, physical therapy is important, but there is only so much it can do. This is management rather than a cure.”

They’ve heard that before. Repeatedly. Always in that same, soft voice, too professional to be pity, exactly. Don’t get your hopes up, they say, with every physical therapy appointment, every dressing change, every surgery. This might be the best it gets.

“I know,” Dick snarls in that same rough voice. “So everyone keeps saying. I don’t care. I’m going -“

There are more tears on Dick’s cheeks. An awful, wet quality to his voice.

“I’m going to get better.”

“OK,” David says, easily. He sets Dick’s leg back onto the bed. Jason half-expects him to pat Dick’s shin, the way Bruce would, if it were him, but David just folds his hands in front of him. “I think that’s enough for today.”

“No,” Dick snaps. “I want to keep going.”

“Dick…”

Dick jumps at the sound of Jason’s voice, as if he’d forgotten Jason was there. Then he scowls, whether at himself or Jason or David is hard to tell.

“Jason.” Low and angry, almost a snarl. And Jason knows that Dick has a temper, maybe even worse than his own, but it’s easy to forget when Dick is usually so bouncy and cheerful and charismatic. “You know I can keep going.”

“Yeah,” Jason says, softly. “I know you can. But you should listen to the professional. You don’t need to hurt yourself.”

As if this whole thing isn’t hurting Dick. Even as he says it, he feels the heat of a flush creep up his throat, embarrassed and angry. The scowl on Dick’s face tells him exactly what he thinks about that. His hands are fists around the sheets, so tense that his knuckles are white.

“You don’t need to prove anything.” Jason knows that hits the mark because Dick looks away. Jason can see his jaw working, the twitch of his muscles beneath smooth, dark skin. “I’m serious, Dick, not to me and not to fucking Bru-”

“Shut up,” Dick snaps and Jason falls silent. Nothing Jason says is going to make Dick believe him, not if he’s already decided that Jason is wrong. There’s no point pushing him.

“OK,” David says again into the ensuing silence. “I’ll be back tomorrow, Richard. You can do some gentle stretches if you want to, but don’t push yourself, OK?”

Dick doesn’t reply, face still turned away from them both and David throws Jason a look that Jason can only blink dumbly at in return, before packing up his stuff and heading to the door.

“You did very well today, Richard. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Then it’s only Dick and Jason and a tense, awkward silence. Jason should break it, but he doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know how to make this better.

“You should go, Jay,” Dick finally says, voice thick and wet, still staring carefully in the other direction. “You didn’t have to stay for that.”

Jason has to swallow hard against the thickness in his own throat. It hurts to see Dick like this. “I wanted to stay,” he says, soft. “I can go if you want though.”

But even as he says it, he knows he isn’t going to leave. Not unless Dick forces him to. And Dick won’t, because even hurt and angry, Dick is too goddamn nice.

The only reply he gets is a sob. Dick’s shoulders curl, his whole body trembles, then he makes a wet, choked sound, as if he’s suppressing more. And Jason has never been particularly physically affectionate but Dick is and Jason is moving to the bed before he can think better of it, wrapping his arms carefully around his brother and pulling him against his chest.

“It’s OK,” he murmurs, that same desperate babbling as when Dick had been lying beneath him, out of his mind with pain, his skin sloughing off of his flesh. Dick sobs again, hands reaching up to clutch at Jason with surprising force and all Jason can do is press his nose into Dick’s thick hair and clutch tighter. “It’s OK, it’s OK.”

“It’s not,” Dick gasps, mouth pressed against the collar of Jason’s shirt. “It’s not. What if? What if this is it? What if this is as good as it gets?”

Dick’s fingers are clenched hard enough around Jason’s arms that he knows there’ll be bruises there, but he can’t bring himself to pull away, can’t push Dick off. His chest hurts. Feels as though he’s been hollowed out. As if his heart is beating away in an empty cavern, crashing against the walls of his ribs.

“Then you’ll be alive,” Jason murmurs, urgently. “You’re alive, Dick. You’re here. That’s all we need. That's what matters.”

“I can’t.” A hitched, breathless sob. “I can’t. What’s the point if I’m not...if I can’t be…”

Jason growls. He knows that Bruce would never have actually said that to Dick, but he can’t help but blame him for this - for the fact that Dick sees so little value in himself.

“The point is that you’re you, Dick. You’re worth more than what you can do.”

Dick shakes his head, breaths wet and ragged.

“What if it was me?” Jason asks, bluntly. “What if I was the one who got burnt? It should have been me. I should have -”

“Stop it,” Dick says, then. And his voice is small and rough, suddenly exhausted, but the sobs have stopped at least. “Stop trying to get me to blame you, Jay. I don’t. You saved me. You...you’re here.”

“I am,” Jason says through his swollen throat. “I’m here.”

And it’s not enough. But it’s something.

***

Jason hasn’t actually spoken to Bruce since that first time Dick had woken in the hospital. It’s not unusual for them to go so long without speaking. It’s not unusual for Jason to avoid Bruce either, although it’s been far more difficult than usual. Normally, all it takes is not answering his phone when the Bats call and sticking to the areas he knows Batman won’t be patrolling. Now, he has to carefully time his visits to avoid the seemingly endless members of the family. And it’s hard because sometimes it seems like they really have nothing else to do but hang around Dick’s bedside.

Jason has no idea what Dick thinks about it - whether he’s as annoyed at Bruce as Jason is, or whether he’s grateful for his father’s support. He doesn’t know what they talk about, or whether they sit in strained silence. They don’t talk much, usually, when Jason visits. And part of that is an awkwardness that’s existed between them ever since Jason came back from the dead and part of it is Jason’s guilt, thick and choking, and part of it is Dick and the sullen anger on his face and the pain that Jason can see, clear as day.

But Jason can’t avoid Bruce forever and there’s no way he’s missing Dick coming home from the hospital just because the big man is going to be there too.

“Are you comfortable?” Bruce asks, gruff, as he helps settle Dick into his wheelchair.

Dick just grunts. There’s a tightness to his face, a tremour of pain. But when Jason steps forward, hands fluttering uselessly, unsure how to help, Dick brushes him off with a scowl.

“Seriously, I’m fine. I don’t need you two crowding me, OK?”

Jason meets Bruce’s eyes over Dick’s head. His father’s face is carefully blank, but Jason can see his own hurt, his frustration, echoed there. As much as they don’t always get on, Bruce must understand some of how Jason feels, at least.

“OK,” Jason says, taking a step back.

Bruce’s knuckles are white around the handles of Dick’s wheelchair. Dick takes an audible breath before plastering a smile across his face. It looks unbearably fragile. Fake.

“I’m sorry.” The words are carefully even. “I’m just...stressed, I guess.”

“Don’t apologise,” Jason says, quickly. “It’s fine. You can tell me to fuck off if you want.”

This time his smile seems a little more real. “I don’t want.”

Jason smiles back. It feels stretched thin across his face, but it’s there. He can’t seem to tear his eyes away from Dick’s legs, the lumpy bandages and compression socks. The strange, awkward way Dick holds them. Then Bruce lays a blanket carefully across Dick’s lap and his view is obscured by faded blue cloth.

“Thanks B,” Dick murmurs and his hands find the edge of the blanket immediately, twisting the soft material between his fingers.

Bruce just lays one big hand across his shoulder. For a moment, Dick tenses, before relaxing into the touch, his head tilting to brush his cheek across the backs of their father’s knuckles. Something complicated works its way across Bruce’s face.

“You ready to head home?” Bruce asks, surprisingly softly, and for some reason that makes Jason’s chest hurt.

“Yeah,” Dick says with a sigh, head still tilted to rest his cheek against Bruce’s hand. “Yeah, lets go home.”

They’ve got a long way to go, Jason thinks as Bruce slowly starts to wheel Dick out of the hospital room. Dick will never be Nightwing again, will never fly like he used to.

The thought makes Jason sad, touches something he’d buried deep a long time ago. It won’t be easy but Dick’s here and he’s alive and that has to be enough.

It is enough.

[prettyboiiharringrove]

Pregnant omega Billy and his cravings!!!

Actual Harringrove content ?? From me ?? I’m as shocked as you are. Anyways, Billy has a meltdown about cookies, I do hope you enjoy because this is a bigger mess than I am lolol

( alpha/beta/omega masterlist )

🍪👅 🍪👅 🍪

“Don’t come home,” Billy barks and Steve isn’t evensurprised, he’s just confused as to what he did this time. It’s always beeneasy to piss him off, and these days it’s a pleasant surprise when Billy’s notmad when he gets home. He loves Billy, he really, truly does, and that pup oftheirs is a dream come true, but Steve prays for the days where Billy’s moreaffectionate lapdog and less angry house-cat.

“What’d I do?” Steve sighs, deciding to keep driving towardshome, because Billy usually starts to miss him and then get more annoyed at himfor not being there in an hour or less after yelling at him.

“You went into my drawer, Steven, and when you get pregnant you will get your own drawer foryour own fucking snacks, but until then you leave mine alone,” and really,Steve isn’t sure how he sounds so scary when he’s bitching about his not sosecret snacks, especially when Steve knows he’s probably leaning against thecounter rubbing soothing circles on his swollen stomach as their baby no doubtjoins in on Billy’s hissy fit. For all intents and purposes it should be cutebut a mad Billy is nothing to turn your nose up at, unless you want it brokenthat is.

“Okay like, I know you’re trying to prove a point orwhatever, but I can’t get pregnant so I don’t even know why you say shit likethat and honestly, I should get my own drawer for putting up with you,” andokay, Steve knows he’s stupid but he didn’t think he was that stupid until those words came out of his mouth and he actuallyconsidered turning the car around and asking Joyce if he could crash on hercouch for the night.

“I’m sorry, what the fuck did you just say to me?!” andSteve knows he deserves it, but Billy screaming at him kind of makes his skincrawl. He feels guilty, and he wants to blame his inner alpha for the feeling,but really it’s just Steve; it’s Steve that feels weak in the knees justknowing that he upset Billy.

“I just mean—”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure I know what you mean,” Billy soundslike his feelings are hurt, and that just tears Steve up inside because heknows he’s pretty much the only person that actually makes Billy feel things sohurting him is the last thing he wants to do.

“Babe, it’s not like that, alright ?? I’ve just had a longday, but listen I promise I didn’t go in your drawer,” and really, that’s allhe meant when he said ‘putting up with you’. He didn’t mean that he’s hated theway Billy’s been acting because honestly, he hasn’t. Billy’s always been a bitof a dick, and now he actually has a bit of a reason to be, cramps, lack ofsleep, swollen ankles, endless hunger and all.

“Steve, my Oreos are gone, there was an entire half sleeveleft, I know there was because I was saving it despite the fact that I wantedthem so bad that I cried in the shower — don’t say a fucking word, I know whatyou’re thinking and if you bring up hormones again I swear to god — but fuckSteve it’s not there now, and I didn’t eat them, so it had to be you,” it still kind of pisses off Steve to be accusedwhen he knows he didn’t do it, even has a pretty good idea of what actually happened, but he deals with it,for Billy’s sake.

What’s more annoyingis that they’re not Oreos, they’re the grocery store’s knock-off versionbecause that’s what Billy craves. Steve bought him real Oreos once and Billy cried and ‘no it’s not about the fucking cookies, it’s because you don’t fuckinglisten, Jesus, does what I say even matter to you’ and obviously it does,but Steve still can’t understand why cookies are that fucking important.

“You sure you haven’t been sleep eating again?” it’s beenhappening a lot lately, and Steve isn’t judging him or anything, he’s beenknown to do weirder things then wander out of bed and eat snacks without evenwaking up to chew. He just thinks that maybe Billy should have considered thatbefore calling him angrily.

“No, I haven’t been, I don’t do that anymore,and how could I considering your kidkept me up all night kicking like he’s trying to get ready for the goddamnworld cup,” Billy groans and Steve knows it’s because the baby definitely startskicking right as he’s mentioned, as if on cue.

“Exactly, he kept you up, and when you bit—,” he canpractically hear Billy raise his eyebrow, daring him to say that sentence, baitinghim so that it’s easy to go in for the kill. He’s smart enough to correcthimself and start over. “When you talked to me this morning, you said you wereprobably going to take a nap. Did you?”

“Shit,” Steve smirks proudly and doesn’t even argue whenBilly tells him to shut the fuck up despite having not said anything. ‘That’s what I thought’ lingers heavilybetween them but Steve’s smart enough to not actually say it out loud.

“You want me to buy you more before I come home?”

“No, that’s uh, that’s actually why I was mad. I mean I waspissed about my cookies, but I was more pissed because I went to get more of myown and got stuck in the car. The chief was walking out — stop laughing asshole —he was walking out with his weird daughter and saw me. You know how embarrassingit is when the chief of fucking police has to go buy you cookies and then followyou home so he can help you out of the fucking car ??”

“Yeah that uh, that sounds horrible,” he knows Billy’sprobably going to punch him, or kick him in the shin again when he gets home,but he really can’t stop laughing. “Sorry, sorry, that’s just, that’s fuckingadorable.”

“It’s not adorable, it’s the worst. Doesn’t help that Ialmost pissed myself and I dropped the keys and he had to come get them for me,and his kid just stared at me the whole time, like she was embarrassed for me.I don’t need some freaky teenager looking at me like I’m pathetic.”

“You know her name, and I thought you liked her.”

“I don’t like anyone,especially not when I’ve had the worstday ever.”

“Okay that’s a lie, and you’re being dramatic,” yet anotherbad decision on Steve’s part, but sometimes he just can’t help himself.

“And you’re being a dumbass, what else is new ??” heprobably deserves that, so he tries not to let his feelings get hurt,especially when his boyfriend has always been a hot mess and a bit of a bitch.

“So can I come home yet?” Steve’s pretty sure he knows theanswer, but he’s decided to humor Billy so that he can get back into his goodgraces.

“I haven’t decided yet.” Translation: yes, yes, a thousandtimes yes because I’m lonely and I’m probably going to climb on top of you thesecond you get home and not move because you’re warm and comfy and I love you. 

It’s funny how Steve can get so much out of a simple sentence, but he’s been inlove with this emotionally constipated asshole for years, so he’s figured outmost of the language. He speaks Billy, although like most languages, some things just don’t translate.

“I’ll rub your feet for you,” Steve smirks when Billypauses. He knows that he’s won, that Billy can’t even pretend to still beannoyed because he’s tired and the thought of a foot rub alone practicallymakes him cream his jeans because it’ll feel so damn good.

There’s a beat of silence and then.

“Hurry up.”

Steve decides to speed up after they hang up, hoping to getthere before Billy finds something else to be mad about and changes his mind.He also decides that tomorrow he’s going to go the store and buy as many ofthose fucking cookies one cart can carry and hide them in case of emergency.

[knb-imagines-blog]

GOM + Kagami being there for You

This is something I really need and I hope you will like it.

Kuroko Tetsuya

‘‘I’m sure she didn’t mean it.’’ He stated in a serious voice, gently massaging your back with his left hand.

‘‘Oh she did, she meant it. She had spat these words with such venom that I almost died there.’’ You sobbed into his arm, getting more hysterical as the seconds passed by. ‘‘We don’t even see each other that much. What can’t she be a little nicer?’‘

‘‘S/o-’‘ Kuroko called your name and your head immediately perked to look at him in the eyes.’‘-your mother has been alone for a very long time, she doesn’t know how to deal with her almost adult daughter. I’m not trying to excuse her behaviour, because what she did was plainly wrong, I’m just trying to show you that her words don’t describe who you are at all. It’s just some nonsense she says to make herself feel better.’‘ He stroked your head affectionately at which your heart melted, leaving behind the heaviness you carried after meeting your mum earlier that day. ‘‘It’s not good, but you can’t change it. There’s no need to cry over it, when you have so many people thinking you are amazing. Including me, of course.’’ Your boyfriend pecked your lips and your foreheads touched, staying still.

‘‘Wow Tetsu, I wasn’t aware you could talk so much.’‘ You laughed, earning unamused glare from him and a light punch in the gut.

‘‘You are an ungrateful brat sometimes, I swear.’‘

Kagami Taiga

‘‘Taiga, the light of my life, you don’t have to stay here with me and rot, you know?’‘

‘‘Please, you would die without me here.’‘ And with that he put the thermometer in your mouth, making you unable to speak, however, when he finally took it out, you started arguing once again.

‘’I’m really okay, you didn’t have to leave practice for me. It’s very unprofessional.’’ He raised an eyebrow at you, not taking your stupid excuses for a reason to just get up and go home. You both stared at each other for what felt like a minute, before you eventually gave up. ‘’And I feel like I’m using you, okay - you got me.’’ You rolled your eyes and rolled onto your other side to avoid his shocked expression. It’s not like you didn’t want him to be here, it’s just that he could do so many funnier things right now, which didn’t contain cleaning someone’s house and jumping around a person who can barely lift a finger.

‘’You are sick - me taking care of you has nothing to do with using anybody. I’m doing what I want and this is what I want. Now face me, because it’s time for your pills.’’ You groaned loudly at his statement and he laughed upon seeing your pouting face. ‘’See? It wasn’t so hard.’’ He praised after you swallowed the medicine and chuckled once again when you shot him a very nasty glare. ‘’Now I’m going to make some dinner and we can watch a movie or something.’’

Your redhead boyfriend got up and started walking towards the kitchen, when you tiredly moved to catch his sleeve in your fingers. He turned to you quickly, asking if something was wrong and you just shook your head.

‘‘Everything is fine, it’s just --- thank you Taiga, seriously.’‘ You didn’t dare to watch his reaction, but somewhere deep inside you knew, he was very happy right then.

‘‘You are welcome, s/o.’‘

Aomine Daiki

‘‘Okay, what the fuck did he do again?’‘ 

‘‘Nothing really.’’ You replied, wiping already cold tears with the sleeve of your blouse from your cheeks. ‘‘It was my fault, anyway.’‘

‘‘Your fault?’‘ He questioned angrily, swallowing all the frustration he had in him. He didn’t want you to experience someone’s anger once again. ‘‘Him being a jealous prick for no reason is your fault? Don’t make me laugh.’‘ You flinched at his harsh words, and he immediately regretted uttering them. So much for making you feel better.

‘‘I shouldn’t have met up with your team behind his back - I just really wanted to see you! But you know how he is.’‘ You cried once more, cringing at how pathetic you must have looked right now. 

‘‘Yeah, I know that he goes around flirting with everything that moves and you can’t even hang out with your friends. That’s ridiculous.’‘ His brain started creating very vivid images of him killing your boyfriend in many interesting ways, but then the realisation of the meaning of his words hit him. You weren’t aware of his disloyalty towards you and he didn’t mean to just scream this information at you. His eyes went back to yours and he noticed how they shined with fresh tears in them. He wanted to call it a very beautiful sight, but it wasn’t the time nor the place for it. ‘‘Shit, I’m sorry - I didn’t mea--’’

‘‘It’s okay Daiki, I suspected something, I just needed a valid proof. Although, I have been thinking about breaking up with him anyway, he was slowly getting violent and it’s not something I want to be around any longer.’‘ Your body was trembling a little, but the real war was happening inside Aomine’s mind, who, upon hearing that some low life wanted to harm you, was ready to slaughter the guy’s entire family just to make you safe. ‘‘Thank you, I realyy appreciate your support.’‘

‘‘Everything for you, s/o.’‘ It really wasn’t a good time for his confession, but once you healed, he would make you the happiest person in the world.

Kise Ryouta

‘‘S/o-chi, you look very out of character, did something happen?’‘ His question didn’t particularly surprised you, because you seriously looked different than usual. That day was relatively hot, enough to wear some shorts along with a short-sleeved shirt, but you against your normal outfit decided to wear a hoodie with trousers. Even your mood was worse than ever, your grumpy face only confirmed it.

Kise was extremely worried about you and was scared that someone may have done bad things to you. He was intensively staring at your blank face, awaiting an answer that took too long to form in your mind and you were just observing him with saddened eyes. ‘’Will you tell me s/o-cchi?’’

You sighed, suddenly wearing an expression of discomfort, which twisted into embarrassement very quickly. ‘’Ryouta, do I look fat to you?’’ This question came out as a whisper, but he heard it almost too correctly. Millions of imagines started haunting his memory, especially the ones with him constantly worrying about his weight as a model and an athlete.

‘‘No, s/o-cchi. Did someone tell you that?’‘ He asked, concerned and ready to fight.

‘‘Not exactly.’’ You stopped your words from flowing out of your mouth to take a deep, relaxing breath. ‘‘I just overheard some of my classmates conversation and, you know, they weren’t saying nice things about me. That’s it. Not a big deal.’‘ You dismissed your problem, obviously trying to drop the topic, but Kise was having none of it.

‘‘It is a big deal, because their words affect you and they shouldn’t. Look at me, I’m a model and people still mock me behind my back and say really disgusting things. The society will never be happy and it’s their loss. You don’t need to live like them and waste your life on hatred. Be happy, show  them who is the boss.’‘ Both of his hands were on your shoulders as you looked at yourselves. He was clearly determined and you just speechless. And then in the simple blink of the eye you burst into tears, asking him to go home with you so you could change into something more comfortable.

‘‘Sure, lovely. Maybe we could hit a beach on the weekend, what do you think?’‘

‘‘Gladly.’‘ You aswered with no hint of saddnes on your flushed face.

Midorima Shintarou

Midorima wasn’t subtle, but easy-going. If he didn’t think his head would explode, he would ask you what’s wrong a long time ago. However, your moping was getting slightly worse with each day and it made him think that the situation was more serious than he previously predicted. He tried to talk to you about it for hours, but once he bit his tongue, the second time he almost walked into the wall and basically - he was scared for his life. But he also loved you dearly, so there was no going back this time. He would do it, he really would.

‘‘What’s wrong with you? You looked like somebody had died, nanodayo.’‘ At least he asked, okay? No one was talking about being nice and shit.

‘‘Nice as always Shin.’‘ You laughed, without a humour and came back to doing your math homework.

‘‘I didn’t mean it like that. I just---worry.’‘ The last part was uttered so quickly and quietly as if he didn’t want you to hear it at all, but you did and it shocked you.

‘’Mn --- it’s nothing, really. I think I’m just being paranoid and all.’’ You smiled tiredly, putting your pen down and he turned his face to you, to listen to your confession even better. ‘‘My parents are behaving kinda weird, something’s going on and all I’ve been thinking about it is them getting divorced. I know it’s not my choice, but theirs, however, it makes me anxious. Sorry, if it’s annoying.’‘ He focused on your words, processing them and trying to create a perfect response, which would be honest, but also helpful.

‘‘I know it may be scary now, but I swear that even it they separate their ways, they would still love you the same.’‘ He grasped your fingers lightly in his, face going red. ‘‘As I do, nanodayo.’‘

You looked up at his words, blushing almost as much as him. ‘’I love you, too Shin. Thank you.’’

‘‘It’s nothing, nanodayo.’‘ He replied and pushed his glasses a liittle higher on his nose. His hand never leaving yours.

Akashi Seijurou

‘‘Ugh, I’m so frustrated Seijurou, I don’t think I can keep this up.’‘ You said at the verge of the tears, pushing math book away from your body. Akashi looked blankly at you, not knowinng how to motivate you to stay focused for a little more time.

‘‘Let’s try again, I will explain better, alright?’‘ He caressed your cheek, desperately trying to stop you from crying. It was the last thing he wanted to see you doing. Even though, he didn’t show it that much he really wanted you to be content. He was clever and on top of the class, but he could admit that math could be really hard. He knew that it was your worst subject and seeing you try so much and then failing was heartbreaking. So he decided to fight with you, teaching you every chance he got. You praised him for it all the time, despite his scary appearance he was really patient with you. You couldn’t help, but love him more for it.

‘‘Okay, okay, but it’s so terrible. I feel like the worst person on the Earth! How did I even get to Rakuzan? I’m the dumbest person I know!’‘ You cried, your words slightly muffled by your palm. Akashi couldn’t see your eyes, but he knew they were probably red with a dark bags under them. You were really hard-working, hee admired it in you.

‘‘You are not dumb, you just need a little practice, love. Nobody was born a genius.’‘ 

‘‘You were.’‘

‘‘I was not, I was just pushed into being the best. I’m glad that you weren’t.’‘ He stated, giving you the most lovestruck look he could pull out, just because you couldn’t see it. It may sound stupid, but he was scared you would find out how important you were to him. How you mattered.

‘‘I’m sorry Sei, I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories.’‘ You replied guiltily, throwing your arms over his neck in an attempt to hug him. It came out a little messy, but he appreciated it anyway.

‘‘I’m not angry, but you can still repay me by not giving up, okay?’‘ You sniffed, but didn’t dare to protest and opened a book once again. ‘’If you promise me that you will work hard I can give you a very pleasurable reward later, huh?’’ He whispered huskily in your ear, making you red all over your face as you nodded like a crazy.

Maybe he could motivate you.

Murasakibara Atsushi

‘‘Why are you crying, s/o-chin?’‘

‘‘Oh Atsushi, I didn’t hear you coming.’‘ You replied, smilling through your tears. Trying to hide the fact that you were obviously upset.

‘‘Why are you crying?’‘ He asked as if he didn’t hear your previous statement, not liking being ignored.

‘‘No reason, seriously.’‘ You asnwered this time, but it only left his unsatisfied, wanting to know more.

‘‘That’s a lie, s/o-chin. Talk to me.’‘ He whined like a child and sat next to you on the floor, in front of the window, which showed you empty streets and a clear, blue sky, which perfectly imitated how you were feeling. Empty.

‘‘Sometimes people are sad, just like that, there’s no real reason, but it doesn’t mean that it’s not important. I just feel a little down today, you can leave if you want. I don’t want to burden you.’‘ You knew your boyfriend very well. He was bright and could be very clever when he wanted to, but there were things he just wasn’t aware of and simply didn’t care.

‘‘You don’t burden me. I want to stay and make you feel better somehow.’‘ Murasakibara replied, his body a little closer to yours, so you could smell his candy scent, which was more comforting that you could ever imagine.

‘‘It’s not that easy, Atsu.’‘ Your sudden and quiet laugh, sounded more depressing than you wanted it to, but it was just so hard to be happy, when everything just felt so wrong.

‘‘Okay, but let me stay, alright? We can just be here for each other, do nothing and cuddle.’‘ He stated and immediately enveloped you in his long arms after seeing you nod to his proposition. ‘‘I will stay here until you are happy again - and if you never are, I will still be here.’‘ He kissed the skin of your neck, squeezing you tightly in his embrace, shielding you from the world. And in that exact moment you knew that eventually, everything will be just fine.