#(past relationship)

[ilovemybruciewayne]

I was thinking about SuperBat break-up... And the Batkids.

I love writing/reading about the kids being mean...

But I also love the fact that they are his light and comfort, the one and only eternal love of Bruce's life.

I always cry thinking about how Dick was shot while he was playing around, trying to make his dad happy after Selina's. So... Here 🤲🏻

"It's okay"

"No! It's not okay, Bruce!" . Clark - Superman - practically screamed, hands raised in frustration. His cape wildly following around as he floated in the air.

"It is, Clark. I understand" Bruce stays in place, looking at the ground, trying to stabilize his heartbeat.

"How is this ok? How are YOU ok?" Bruce stares at him. Clark looks so hurt. How DARES he look hurt? He bites his tongue at the upsetting thoughts.

Bruce lifts a hand and slides it across his face. He practically falls into the chair behind him, letting out a long, tired sigh, swallowing the venomous words that trickle the tip of his tongue. "What do you want me to say?"

Clark stops his pacing, and slowly, oh so slowly, his feet touch the ground again. He closes up the distance between them, lifts a hand towards his partner the other man, but stops himself when Bruce opens his mouth again.

"Do you want me to beg? Should I be on my knees and ask you to stay?" He lifts his gaze to look at the super, hand falling on his lap. The air leaves Clark's lungs like a gut punch. "What should I do, Clark? You made your choice. And I want to respect it". He presses the back of his hand against his eyes, taking a low, deep, shaky breath, unsuccessfully trying to stop the tears.

"We're both too old for this. I believe you thought of the alternatives," He continues "and you must have your reasons... And I want to hear them... But-" He lifts his other hand to fully cover his face and Clark noticed how Bruce suddenly looks so small, trying to bend over himself "-but not right now. Now I need you to leave, so I can grieve us in peace"

Clark feels his eyes burn as tears cloud the image of the man he loved, of the man whom he just broke his heart. He clenches his jaw, trying to find the words. Maybe this is a mistake, maybe they can work it out, maybe... "Bruce-"

"Please" It's so soft, so filled with sorrow.

When Bruce lifts his head again, the room is empty, and he finally allows himself to cry freely.

The office's door slightly opens, interrupting the cold silence on the manor.

Bruce is sitting straight, looking through the window, an untouched glass of Scotch on the table next to him. Damian takes the full image before completely opening the door and allowing himself inside the room.

His father turns to look his way, acknowledging his presence in silence. He moves to the side indicating his son to scoot over.

Damian frowns, looking to the ground, unable to keep a straight look at his father's tear-stricken cheeks and puffy eyes. He moves smoothly without looking up, and presses himself to Bruce's side. Burying his head under his father's wet chin, he feels himself like crying when his dad's breath shake under an unreleased sob. "Ungrateful little-" He hears himself mumble, Bruce shuts him with a shake of his head and a soft kiss in his crown.

"Don't hate him too much..." He whispers. Damian bites his lip and presses himself further in his father's embrace. Tears of anger and frustration run treacherously as he feels a strong, heavy hand stroking comforting circles on his back.

Tim called upon the family.

He had come to the manor the next morning, unknowingly, and after a short and insightful encounter with his little brother, he had found Bruce sitting at the kitchen counter. His dad was just... blankly staring at the wall. He slowly sat next to him, with the same care of a man closing up to a scared animal.

Bruce looked up at his call, smiling so softly and lovingly caressed his hair. Tim felt himself crumble. He quickly embraced his dad, throwing his arms around the older man's neck. Pressing his nose against Bruce's shoulder, he swallowed his tears and furiously taped on his phone behind Bruce's back. The answers to the group chat were immediate.

Jason is at the cave when Bruce steps outside the Batmobile. He tilted his head, questioning. Jason only shrugs, stepping closer to him as he started to move towards the computer. Damian looked up at him with a furrow, walking behind Batman's cape. Jason gave the kid a knowing grin before roughly ruffling his spikey hair, making Robin grumble and curse at him under his breath.

He leans on the console with his hip supported on it, while he absentmindedly dusts away some dirt from Bruce's the Batsuit's shoulder blades. "So, I was thinking-" He decidedly ignores the scoff of the small kid "...I was THINKING. You know how we're trying to mend... This?" He signaled the air between him and Bruce.

The older man turns towards him, taking the cowl off. He just gives him an awkward grunt and a nod, signaling to Jason to continue. "Well. We could... Uhm... Y'know- Ugh! This was easier in my head."

"Jaylad, if you're worried about my mental state after Clark's-"

"No! No, I mean, yes. That as well! But- UGH!! MAN!!" Jason is now covering his reddening face with both hands "I just. God! I want to use this chance to-"

A hand lands on his shoulder and he is being guided to sit on the main chair in front of the computer. When did he start to hyperventilate?

"Breathe, baby. I'm here, take your time finding your words, you're great with them" OH HOW MUCH HE WANTED TO SHOOT KRYPTONITE THROUGH THE ALIEN'S HEAD!!

He uncovers his face to look at the gray, soft, loving eyes of the man crouched in front of him. A gloved hand on his cheek. He allows himself to close his eyes, leaning into the touch, regaining order on his head and breaths.

"I wanted..." He starts, without opening his eyes, letting his words free "... I want to move back" He whispers before he could stop himself.

When the thumb caressing his cheekbone stills, he opens his eyes in panic, thinking the worst. But he was greeted with a pair of wide open eyes, filled with tears, followed by the brightest smile he hasn't seen his father made in years. "Oh, baby. I would love that"

Well. Fuck it. He will ask for their outing another time. The bookstores will remain there for a while, right? Right now, he will just relax in the strong pair of arms surrounding his back. He's really grateful for his inability to stop his thoughts from slipping out loud.

And he would have stayed forever in bliss if it wasn't for the death glare of a small kid looking at him over Bruce's shoulders. Oh shit, right. The plan... Oh, well.

"Grayson. Tell Todd he can't just move in"

"... Well. Uhm. Are you sure you want this, little wing?"

"Just admit you're jealous you won't be the only one living with the old man, tiny bat" Jason smirked as he unpacked a new box. His oldest sibling raised an unamused brow while grabbing the small kid from his elbow before he could jump over his brother.

"It's just- I didn't thought you- I never imagined you wanted to be back..."

"Me neither" Jason shrugged. "The words just came out. And... I'm here already, ok? And I missed him, I missed us. Maybe this is a new chance for both of us"

Dick hummed, pressing the head of the child against his thigh, trapping him there. "As long as you're a hundred percent sure about this. The last thing he needs is a new heartbreak"

"You're worrying too much, Dickbert"

"I'm just saying. I want you to-"

"What's going on?"

The three of them turned to see Tim standing behind Richard, looking at Jason's unpacked boxes inside the not-so-empty-anymore room.

"Uh... Jason is..."

"Moving in??" They could practically see Tim's hair rise as his voice got louder "When did you-?! What?! Why-?! What?!!"

"Timmy, are you okay?"

"Yeah, Timbo, why does this freak you out so much?"

"You don't even live ever, Dra-"

"DAAAAAAAD!!!!!!" They all froze in shock as the young man sprinted away.

Dick sighed while the young man brightly smiled, dragging a huge piece of equipment inside his new room.

"Timmy, you're being ridiculous"

"The only ridiculous thing here is that Jason asked first. Can't believe he, HE, managed to take my shot"

"You spoke with B just this morning. Why are you moving in already? It hasn't even been a week since-!!"

"Shush, sore loser. Go away if you're not going to help me unpack."

Richard sighed again before pushing himself out of the doorway and towards his father's office.

When he opened the door to Bruce's, he stopped himself at the sight of Cassandra cuddling on his dad's lap while the old man softly snored, relaxedly laying across the sofa. He raised an eyebrow as his sister smirked at him, lifting her hands to signal "Too slow"

He quickly turned around before she could see the betrayed look on his face.

"Traitorous little things, all of them!" He grumbled between his teeth.

By the next time he saw Bruce alone walking through the always, he practically knocked him off throwing himself into his arms and pushing him to the closest room to cuddle alone... Obviously getting interrupted by one of the thousand kids Bruce insisted on adopting.

Dick could only scream how he wasted his vacation days only to watch his little siblings kidnap his dad.

Cassandra was smarter than that. She always was. She knew not to openly compete for his father's time.

She would come when she knew Bruce was about to doze off, and softly grabbed him by the hand to place him in the next soft surface. Be it a sofa, or in this current case, his bed. And as soon as she saw the soft expression and relaxed posture of his dad, she would carefully locate herself on top of his lap, unashamedly placing his big hand on top of her head, rejoicing on the chuckle it would always leave his father's throat.

And if she felt some sort of pride at the sight of her oldest sibling possessively jealous look when he saw her cuddle the day before? Well that was just an extra on her book.

The joy of making her siblings face turn red, filled with envy every time they saw their father kiss her forehead or show his unending affection towards her. It wasn't her fault for their inability to express their love- She frowned thinking of Jason's latest development and the way her baby brother was working on his feelings... she buried her nose on her father's clavicle.

She pressed herself to the loving embrace, trying to express without words the love she felt for her father. Trying to take the sorrow away.

Oh, if she could only place all the pain that swarm inside that big chest inside her own. Such a stupid man. Such a lovely, big, selfless, stupid man.

The next morning they were awoken by the shrieks of a betrayed Damian, only then realizing she had fallen asleep on his father's bed the night before. She proudly smirked at her brother's while burying herself deeper in his father's chest. "Too bad", she'd sign.

Bruce was beyond bliss as he sat on the breakfast table. Damian was supporting his weight in his lap, trying to grab the bread that Jason raised over his head with a laugh, as Tim slowly moved his dragging feet in to the kitchen, stopping shortly only to give a small peck and a mumbled "g'morning" to Bruce's forehead, continuing his journey to the expresso machine. He blinked the surprise away, as Cass appeared to his side to kiss his cheek before gracefully sitting on the chair next to him.

He allowed Damian to be lifted by his armpits, as a pouting Richard moved the child to a chair next to him, while mumbling something close to "I knew him first", before a piece of toast stuck itself to the middle of the oldest sibling's face. Jason's arm raised in a throwing position, face filled with delight at his accomplishment.

"Oh, shut it, Dick-for-brains" He laughed at his brother's shocked expression "You won't always be the favorite"

Bruce received a piece of bread with dark jam that his daughter passed him, smiling a "thanks" as he took a bite, watching how his eldest emphatically moved his arms around to express his feelings to a eye-rolling Jason.

He felt a cheek on the top of his head, as Tim complained of the noise before pressing his nose on the crown of Bruce's black hair.

A pair of quick, running steps cut the noise on the kitchen. Duke appearing on the corner of the kitchen, already in his uniform, screaming about how late it was. He stopped to look at the scene and slowly and cautiously moved towards Damian "Oooookay..." He said, while pulling Damian by the wrist. "I want to ask why is everyone here taking breakfast on a Thursday morning, but we're currently late, so-" He moved, dragging Damian behind him.

"UNHAND ME, THOMAS! I NEED TO KEEP THOSE LEECHES AT BAY-"

"Yeah, sure thing, small beast. But you'll have to take care of them AFTER 5 o'clock, because right now, we're running for the bus"

Bruce could still hear Damian's complaints as he was dragged out the door.

As soon as the door got shut, the noise returned to the kitchen when Tim slowly moved to sit on top of him. Cass immediately, but carefully started pushing him away, Dick pointing at his younger sibling, while Jason threw another piece of bread screaming at Tim's lack of shame.

Bruce let himself laugh freely, head thrown backwards while Dick tried to replace Tim away with his own body weight.

I didn't write much of Dick's, since most of the post-Selina number in the comic was with him comforting Bruce... Until, y'know... Memory loss and stuff.

I ACTUALLY LOVE THAT NUMBER, and no joke i cried "let him have oneeeee good moment, DC PLEASEEEE!!"

[fanfic-obsessed]

Everyone was harmed in the making of this

Ok, I know I have played with memory and forgetting people and relationships before, but I have had a new idea take a slightly different shape. 

As Always look not for canon

About six months before Jason dies in Ethiopia, he meets Tim Drake (aged 13 and a half), while out on patrol.  These two are quickly smitten with each other (to Dick’s amusement-seriously there may or may not be some incessant cooing over them being soulmates). Because Tim met them through their ‘nightlife’, it is not public knowledge that Tim and Jason are dating (with frequent mentions of their eventual wedding), though in private Tim is more than welcome at Wayne Manor and in the Cave. Tim quickly becomes a member of the family, though it is decided that the full formal bat training has to wait, just until there is a public reason why Dick Grayson might be teaching him things like gymnastics. Barbara, newly Oracle, does frequently tease Dick that she gets to teach Tim about computers now instead of later, because it would not change Tim physically. 

Tim does not tell his parents, who are absent but love him, about Jason. He is waiting for them to have a civilian reason for them to have met, as Tim was supposed to be under supervision at his boarding school when he was instead stalking Batman and Robin across rooftops and later hanging out with Jason. Bruce and Alfred plan to have Jason start the next school year at Tim’s school, as a day student, so they can ‘meet’.  If things had gone to plan, the next time Tim’s parents were in Gotham Tim would formally introduce them to Jason and Jason’s family (Jack and Janet Drake have met Brucie Wayne before, obviously but not as their son’s boyfriend’s father), Bruce and Alfred would convince them to let Tim stay with them instead of boarding at the school (Frankly neither Bruce nor Alfred were really impressed with the school since Tim had been sneaking out regularly for actual years-In this one Tim’s parents are not negligent, but someone at the school certainly is). 

While Dick gushed to the Titans about Jason’s boyfriend and how adorable they are together, he never mentioned a name. They all figured there was time to ease Tim into the greater hero community, whether he ultimately became a vigilante or not.  Bruce does not mention Robin having a boyfriend/soulmate to the Justice League, but that is mostly because he doesn’t tell them anything personal, Jason follows his lead in this.

As Jason is sneaking away to Ethiopia, and to what he does not know is his own death, Tim is in school.  There is a freak accident at the school and Tim hits his head hard. So hard that Tim is comatose for six weeks.  His parents rush to his bedside. When Tim wakes up, he has lost 8 months of memory, he no longer remembers his entire relationship with Jason or that he met any of the bats personally.  The bats had been planning to wait until Tim was alone before telling him about Jason’s death, but before they could they found out about Tim’s amnesia, and the fact that it was likely irreversible 

Dick and Barbara are so, so angry at Bruce, and to a lesser extent Alfred, for Jason’s death. But in this all four were in agreement.  Tim did not remember, likely would never remember. And Jason was dead. It was kinder to let Tim have a clean slate. 

The Bats do not approach Tim Drake.  Dick tells the Titans that Jason’s boyfriend died with him.

Time passes. Tim breaks all of their hearts all over again when he insists on becoming Robin, not because he remembers Jason, but because Batman needs a Robin. Dick, Barbara, Alfred and Bruce keep the secret. Anything that could have shown the relationship between Tim and Jason were already buried deep in the Cave (photos, keepsakes, gifts and actual handwritten letters between the two-because Jason was a romantic, a promise ring Tim had made for Jason). They keep the secret throughout Tim’s training and run as Robin.  

When Jason comes back, without any memory of the ten months prior to his death, and beats the shit out of Tim, they continue to keep the secret.  But there is an additional level of horror, that Tim misinterprets, in all four of them. Tim assumes that extra devastation is their own guilt for being willing to forgive Jason for beating the shit out of him (He knows that they are good people, so are horrified at his injuries, but it is also Jason, the son whose loss broke them. Tim does not really judge them for being conflicted about things). There is a little of that but also Alfred, Bruce, Dick, and Barbara are the only ones who realize exactly how devastating this would be for both of them with their full memories. 

They continue to keep this secret. Through Jason calming down and working with the Bats, through both dating others, though every significant other that Jason or Tim has claims that those four bats in particular seem to hate them a little more than they should. Even Roy and Kori, who by rights should have realized what was going, never fully connect the cold shoulder the Dick was giving them with why he would not want them dating his little brother. They keep the secret through Damian’s arrival, through Bruce being lost in the timestream and his retrieval,  through Duke arriving. 

At this point they all tell themselves that there is no point in bringing it up. Neither Tim nor Jason are the same people as the little boys who said they would get married.  It would hurt them both to know their full history and what they had lost. The worst part was that, at times, they could almost see the relationship that could have been. Jason would say something or Tim would do something and the two would be perfectly in sync, and it was like looking back through time. 

For all that none of these four could bring themselves to destroy the remnants of Jason and Tim's prior relationship, they also never thought those keepsakes would ever come to light.  It was Duke that found them, deep in the archive area of the Cave. They were in a simple wooden chest which is what intrigued Duke, because everything else in that section was in metal cases. 

When he opened the chest the first thing he saw was a picture of Jason and Tim, arm and arm looking very young. Curious, Duke brought the chest out to the main portion of the cave and made a comment about how he didn’t know Jason and Tim knew each other as kids.  Jason responded that they didn’t, even as Bruce, Dick, and Alfred whipped around.  They could only watch, like a slow motion train wreck, as Duke handed Jason the first picture and opened the Chest to reveal other pictures and items. As Duke started to poke around in the chest, Jason looked at the photo and spun around to demand why Tim had not said anything. Except Tim was just as baffled as Jason and came closer to inspect the photos and other items. 

Tim was just suggesting that these were fabricated (With Jason starting to flush next to him-Jason was reading one of the love letters younger him had written to Tim, with the requisite poetry, and a written complaint that all the good lines were already written) when Alfred stepped forward.  Alfred confirmed that these items were not fabricated, but rather proof of a future that was lost when Jason died. 

 Which Jason frankly found a little hurtful, true but hurtful. 

I am not sure if Jay and Tim would get back together in this. But if they did, I think it would be going over all these little things that the past Jason and Tim had saved, the little important moments.  Falling in love with who they were now instead of the past. Alternately the weight of this additional history pushed them farther from a romantic relationship and it took a while before their friendship was no longer awkward with a breakup that hadn’t actually happened. 

Their memories of that time never came back in either case. They also bonded over their shared feelings of betrayal for the four that kept the secret. Intellectually they both understood, and even agreed with their reasoning, but it was still a big piece of their shared history that was withheld.

[spn-bee]

Because of You

Chapter 12: The Promise That Broke

Home ||| Back to Series

Summary:

Thirty-two weeks pregnant, Rae is running on fumes. The plan was simple: buy a crib, survive Babies “R” Us, and ignore the way Dean Winchester looked behind the wheel of a minivan. For one afternoon, Dean isn’t just a hunter. He’s a husband. A father. A man naming his unborn child Sam.

But the past has a way of finding its own breath. When Michael finds Rae in her sleep, carrying the promise he never kept, Dean thinks he knows what grief looks like.

He’s wrong. One second, his hands are full. The next, he’s holding nothing but air.

Characters: Dean Winchester, Rae (OC), Garth Fitzgerald IV

Pairing: Dean Winchester (father-to-be!Dean) x Rae (mother-to-be!Rae/Reader)

CW/TW: Pregnancy, Pregnant Original Female Character, Expectant Father Dean Winchester, Domestic Fluff, Domestic Angst, Baby Shopping, Garth Fitzgerald IV Being Garth Fitzgerald IV, Grief/Mourning, Past Relationship, Dead Lover, Dreams and Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Protective Dean Winchester, Angst with Soft Moments, Panic, Distress, Emotional Breakdown, Dean Winchester Has Feelings, Dean Winchester Tries His Best, Found Family, Alternating POV

Taglist:

 @jc-winchester @ladysparkles78 @kazsrm67 @spn-fanfic-reblog-writes @deans-baby-momma

@hobby27 @kickingitwithkirk @lyarr24 @krazykelly @chriszgirl92

@barewithme02 @kjah97 @roseblue373 @bumbleb10 @nancymcl

@x-nine-x-epic @emmily33 @denimoveralls @alwaysthebiggerbear @leysol (Please let me know if you want to be added or removed from the list. Thank you.)

Rae

The van rocked gently as we headed home, soft rock mumbling from the radio. After a whole day running around with Dean and Garth, I was done. At thirty-two weeks, tired was my new normal. We’d spent the whole day playing house. We went shopping for cribs, bottles, blankets, all the little things that screamed a baby was actually coming. My head tipped against the cool window, the world outside smearing into green and gray.

Dean had the wheel, steady hands wrapped around it like he was pretending the van was Baby. He hated the thing, spent the morning grumbling about how a minivan was “an insult to mankind.” But that didn’t stop him from driving carefully. And Garth? Wedged in the back like a pack mule, humming off-key like he hadn’t just spent three hours wrestling strollers, car seats, and breast pumps.

There was still a mountain left to do, like paint swatches for the nursery, baby-proofing the bunker (good luck with that one, Dean), more doctor’s appointments, more checklists. But at least I wasn’t doing it alone. Everyone had been pitching in, even Gabby with her not-so-subtle drop-ins.

And Dean…well, he hadn’t left my side in twelve weeks. No surprise hunts. No vanishing acts. Just here. Always here. Sweet, yeah, but also kinda annoying. Everywhere I turned, he was there. That's why I no longer listen to audiobooks with my back facing the door. Learned that lesson.

But he’d become the ultimate "fixer," even if he still couldn't cook rice to save his life.

At this point, the baby basically ran the show. Everything ached, from my back down to my feet. Turns out pregnancy comes with DLC nobody asked for. Ever heard of round ligament pain or "lightning crotch"? Yeah, neither had I. Yet here I was, wearing a maternity belt every day and waddling like a penguin.

Heartburn’s a bitch, too. And somehow, the only thing that sounded good was diner food at two in the morning. The kind Dean swore fixed everything, and he wasn't wrong. I didn't even like greasy spoons before. Now? I'd sell my soul for a side of hashbrowns.

But if I was honest, it also scared me. The Dean I’d started to learn a few months ago wasn’t this man. He was a hunter, and from what Garth had told me, they didn't do this. They didn't stay, and they sure as hell didn't shop for strollers. Yet here he was, bending his whole life around me like he didn't know any other way to breathe.

Did it make me love our little peanut any less? Not a chance in hell. If anything, every ache, every kick, every time Dean’s face lit up when he felt movement, it just made me fall harder. For both of them. I just didn't know yet if I was watching him step up...or give up something he couldn't afford to lose.

A sharp twinge tugged at my left side. When I shifted my hand to rub it, the baby answered with a rolling kick. Dean’s free hand rested on his thigh, so I slid it over, guiding him to the spot. To anyone else, the constant "feel this" would’ve been annoying. But not him. Every time, he stopped cold, like the tiniest movement was enough for him to drop everything.

His thumb brushed slow circles, his shoulders easing. For a second the hunter face eased off. Then came that quiet smile, like he forgot how to be tough.

“Daddy’s hand is right here, peanut. Feel that?”

His hand twitched under mine. He swallowed hard, his ears going a little pink. He tried to play it cool, eyes fixed on the road, but that soft smile stayed anyway. Every kick wasn’t just movement to him; it was the only thing in the world that made sense.

“Whoa, easy there, slugger,” he muttered. “You're gonna break something in there before you even get out.” He looked from my stomach to my face, his green eyes warm.

I shot him a look, one brow climbing. “Break something? What? Am I incubating a wrecking ball, Papi?" His smile only grew.

From the back seat, Garth piped in. “Kid's a ballerina. No. Tap dancer. That's the vibe.”

Dean groaned. "Garth…”

“What?” Garth grinned. “Every great hunter needs a hobby. Why not jazz hands?”

I chuckled, my hand smoothing over my stomach. “Just picture it, peanut,” I whispered. “Daddy sitting in a dance studio full of moms, waiting for you to finish practice.”

The word still tripped him up. 'Daddy.' I couldn't tell if he was embarrassed or secretly loving it. Maybe both.

“Oh yeah,” Garth drawled. “Just you wait. Your daddy’s gonna be layin’ that Winchester charm on thick when you’re older. We saw him with those checkout ladies today, didn’t we? Total chick magnet.”

Dean groaned, his ears turning a deeper shade of red. “Dude… just shut up.”

Flashback - Babies ‘R’ Us

Babies “R” Expensive. That’s what the store should’ve been called. Bright lights, pastel walls, price tags that made my head spin. Pink everywhere. Plush toys with blank little button eyes. A wall of pacifiers that made me wonder how any baby ever survived. Overwhelming? Yeah. But in a good way.

Dean looked like he’d just been dropped into a Care Bears-themed version of hell. Completely lost. I was already biting back a laugh when two employees in matching purple polos zeroed in, all smiles and perkiness.

One of them, blonde ponytail, maybe my age? She smiled way too big at him. “First time, huh?”

And of course, the patented Winchester smirk appeared. “That obvious?”

I rolled my eyes. Not jealousy. Nah, not exactly. But he caught it, anyway. His eyes met mine, amused, knowing. I see you, Rae.

I shot back a look of my own. Whatever.

The twenty-something year old giggled. And I mean giggled. Too flirtatious for a store full of diapers. “Don’t worry, we’ll take good care of you. I mean—uh, of you both.”

I glanced at Dean, already bracing for the charm. The harmless flirt he didn't even think about anymore. It never came. Instead, he reached for me. His large, warm hand slipping into mine, fitting perfectly, fingers lacing without hesitation. Then he bent just enough to brush a kiss against the top of my head, like it was something we’d done a thousand times before.

Hand-holding and a kiss? Seriously. I shouldn’t have been blushing. I definitely shouldn’t have been thrown off by it. But...dammit, Dean.

“Appreciate the offer,” he said smoothly. “But I think I’ve got my hands full with my wife. You’ll be my first call if we need backup.” His hand tightened around mine.

Wife. There it was again. Too easy. Too natural. Slid off his tongue like it belonged there.

Me? It still didn’t sit right. No matter how many times he said it. Maybe one day it would. Someday.

---

Strollers. Rows and rows of them. Monster trucks for babies. I swear some of them had more features than the Impala. Cup holders, suspension, tires thick enough to survive potholes, gravel, and whatever nightmare scenario Dean had already imagined.

He circled one with the same focus he gave weapons. Spun the wheel. Checked the frame. Muttered something about maneuverability.

“Sir,” I said flatly. “It’s a stroller. For a baby. Not a tank.”

“If we gotta move fast,” he replied, dead serious, “you’ll thank me for the swivel wheels.”

Oh, my God. He was actually weighing the options, like this was life or death instead of strollers. Trying to pick the one that would keep our kid safest. He was already being more of a parent than I felt like I was. I turned away, pretending to study the wall of car seats so I didn’t have to admit it.

As I wandered toward the heavy-duty bases, my hand brushed against a display box. I stopped when I saw it. A tiny, soft-white onesie sitting on top of a car seat, clearly abandoned by some other shopper who had changed their mind. I reached out, my fingers grazing the fabric. It was barely bigger than my hand.

And out of nowhere, thoughts of Michael crashed through me. The future I’d once planned. The one I lost. It suddenly became harder to breathe.

My hand had flown to my mouth, pressing hard like I could keep the sob trapped in my chest. Not now, Reima. Not with your husb—Not with Dean by your side...

Then there was a hand at my back. Warm. Steady. Broad enough to cover half my spine. Dean. He didn’t ask. Didn’t say a word. He just stepped into my space and held me. I leaned in, my head against his chest.

My jaw clenched until it ached. I clung to his shirt, bunching the heavy fabric in my hand, hanging onto him. There were no words between us. Just his palm moving up and down my back, like he knew exactly where to put pressure.

After a few breaths, the shaking eased. Not because I talked myself down. Because he was right here, and my body finally believed it.

Just as I started to look up, ready to offer a trembling thank you, his entire body went still. His voice came out flat, horrified, and loud enough to turn heads. “What the hell are those?!”

I pulled my face away from him, already bracing for whatever nonsense had triggered that tone. And sure enough there was Garth, walking toward us, arms stacked high with boxes.

Not one.

Not two.

But three. He looked like he’d just hit the jackpot at a county fair.

Dean’s face was priceless. Wide eyes. Ears flaming red. I snorted. I couldn't help it. “It’s exactly what it looks like, hon---er, Dean.”

At first, I thought he heard me because he didn't say a word. He blinked, staring at the boxes. “You mean…” He hesitated, then jabbed a finger at one like it was cursed. “…that thing milks you?!”

For a split second, I was a little disappointed. But when I saw the horror on his face and heard what he said, it took me out. I laughed so hard my stomach tightened and I had to brace a hand over the bump. "Stop! Both of you. I'm gonna pee myself!"

He was so damn pure sometimes. Garth nearly dropped one of the pumps, wheezing. “Dude, you should see the travel versions!”

“Okay, laugh it up, you two,” Dean muttered, face still red. "Yeah, yeah. Real funny." He shot us a look, shaking his head. “Glad you’re both gettin’ a kick outta this.”

Back in the van

I couldn’t stop replaying Dean’s face. Thank God for these two, because without them, the day would’ve crushed me. Still, I was going to have to figure those pumps out on my own. No way Dean was surviving the first time one of them actually starts doing what it's supposed to do.

The bickering started up again, this time about setting up the car seat in the Impala. 

"It's not going in Baby," Dean snapped.

"Dude, it's literally built for cars," Garth argued from the back.

I was too wiped out to weigh in, but yeah...nope. That thing wasn't going anywhere near the Impala. Not happening. I didn't even lift my head. "I swear to God if y'all start drilling into the Impala, I'm naming the kid 'Mazda'."

We had forty-five minutes left, and sleep was winning. It crept in slow, heavy, pulling me under piece by piece. The last thing I felt was Dean’s warm, steady hand resting on my stomach.

The last thing I thought of was Michael. The park. The day before he deployed.

And then the van was gone.

Michael and Rae

The cool breeze touched my face, carrying the sharp scent of freshly cut grass. I was lying on a gray blanket, the fabric soft and shaggy under my palms. Overhead, the sky was so blue it almost hurt to look at. Somewhere nearby, I could hear the river and children laughing. I pushed myself up slowly, confused. I hadn’t been here in years. Not since…

"Hey, darlin'..."

The voice. I turned, slowly, my chest already aching. Michael. Not a memory. Not a ghost. Just him. Crewcut neat. Hazel eyes still captivating. That crooked smile that used to feel like home. And his cologne, sandalwood, cinnamon, and leather warmed by his skin, still clung to him like the years had never happened.

“Michael,” I finally breathed. Saying his name hurt. I shut my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose. When I opened them, he was still standing there.

I didn’t think. I just threw myself into his arms, clutching him. My whole body shook as sobs ripped out of me. Ugly. Raw. The kind that tears straight through you.

"Why're you cryin', darlin'?" he asked, his thumb, warm and real, brushing my tears away.

All those nights I’d dreamed of this, one more day, one more conversation, but now that he was here, it wasn’t relief. It was agony. Nine months into his deployment, he’d been gone. No goodbye. No funeral I was allowed to go to. His family made sure of that. Just silence. Just absence.

“Why didn’t you come back?” I choked, shoving at his chest. “You promised! You said you’d come back!”

He caught my wrists, gentle, and dropped his chin. Michael didn’t do that. Not ever. He was a Marine to the bone, the kind of man who stood his ground no matter what. Seeing him do it now wrecked me.

“I know,” he whispered, voice cracking. "I'm sorry. That wasn’t the plan.”

That hit harder than I was ready for. The life I’d wanted years ago had all been with him. The rings, the kids, the home. Hearing him say it now was tearing me apart. My hand drifted to my stomach on instinct. His eyes followed.

The truth was right here, impossible to ignore: I was building the family Michael had wanted with me… but with someone else.

My mouth opened, then closed. I shook my head, looking away. “It’s not simple.”

His face crumpled. "Not simple?! Reima, you're carrying his child. You're living with him. Looks simple from where I'm standing. So tell me what I'm missing."

He said my name the way only he ever had. Reima. It burned.

Something in me snapped. "Because you’ve been gone, Michael!" My voice cracked on his name. "You have no idea what I went through since you left! What it took to keep breathing after you didn't come home." I turned away, needing air. Needing distance. “You don’t know me anymore.”

“Reima.” His voice hardened, harder than he probably meant. “So that’s it?" A beat, like he regretted it even as he said it. "I die, and you move on. And he just...gets everything I didn't?!” His eyes dropped to my stomach again.

"Tell me he's not just filling the space I left."

The slap landed before I could stop it. “How dare you?” My voice broke. “Is that really what you think of me?”

Regret hit him instantly. His shoulders sagged. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I just…” He stopped. Looked at me like he already knew the answer and still needed to hear it. “Help me out, darlin'. Why Dean?”

“Because he’s here,” I said, my voice shaking. “Because he came back. And then he stayed.”

The words were out before I realized I’d said them. And then quieter, "And... he loves me."

The truth hit hard. Terrifying. Real.

He bowed his head and for a second, I thought he might argue. Thought he might fight for what we used to be. But when he looked back up, his eyes were sad, not angry. “Then…choose him, darlin',” he said quietly. “Don’t make him pay for me.”

He pressed a soft kiss to my forehead. “I love you, Reima...” he whispered. "Always."

“I love you, too,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “Always. And thank you…for letting me say goodbye.”

And then he was gone. The warmth, the weight of him, the scent I'd memorized...it vanished like smoke. One second he was holding me. The next, nothing. 

I folded in on myself, holding on tight. A broken, ugly sound tore out of me, too loud for this quiet place.

The next breath smelled of stale air. The van swayed. The radio mumbled. Dean’s hand was still on my stomach.

And I was still reaching for a man who wasn’t there.

Dean & Garth

In the passenger seat, Rae was finally out, his jacket draped over her. He didn’t move his hand from her stomach. Warm weight under his palm. A steady rise and fall. Right here, right now, it settled something in him.

“It’s just me and you, buddy,” he murmured. “Your mama’s sleepin’.”

The word still felt clumsy, the same way it still threw him off when Rae called him daddy. He almost wished he hadn’t said it, until the baby kicked against his hand.

Dean chuckled. “Okay. I hear you.”

“So,” Garth drawled from the back, “when you gonna do it?”

Dean’s eyes stayed on the road. “Do what?”

“You know. Ring. Wedding. The whole nine yards.”

He snorted. “It’s covered. Legal. On paper.”

“Paper ain’t the same as a promise,” Garth shot back, unusually serious. “You think she wants to tell your kid his parents got hitched by a hacker in a bar?”

Dean’s thumb brushed over the plain white-gold band where his hand rested on the wheel before he realized he was doing it.

Garth’s voice dropped. “And that ain’t helping either. Wearing that other fella’s ring.”

Dean’s grip tightened on the wheel. He didn’t answer. Garth already knew the whole story.

Silence settled until Garth tried again. Softer, this time. “So… you gonna name the kid after you? Dean Jr.? John, after your old man? Or, hear me out...Garth Winchester. Little G. He’d be the fifth.”

“Yeah, right. Like I’m gonna saddle my kid with Garth Winchester. That’s child abuse.”

The joke died fast. Dean flinched at his father’s name. John. Motel rooms. Orders. Cold coffee. His kid was never gonna grow up like that. Ever.

“No,” he said quietly. “Not John.”

He hesitated. Another name surfaced, one that felt strange on his tongue, like it had been buried for years. “Sam,” he finally said. “Or… Sammy, maybe. Samuel for a boy. Samiera for a girl.”

Garth gave the names some thought. "Sam Winchester," he repeated out loud. He grinned. "I like it."

Dean did too, and that was the problem. The name landed heavier than it should’ve. For a split second, he almost looked over his shoulder, like someone had said it before. No one had. Then it was gone.

Maybe he could do it. Be a dad. Maybe there’d be a life waiting for them after Azazel. Hell, maybe he could even quit hunt---

The thought didn’t get to finish.

A scream ripped through the van, snapping both men straight into hunter mode. It wasn’t an attack. It was Rae.

Dean didn't have time to think. He hit the brakes hard, not a full stop, but enough to drag their speed down fast. Horns blared behind him, but he didn't care. The tires screamed as he forced the wheel right, eyes snapping between the road and her.

"Rae---!"

She bolted upright. Eyes wide. Glassy. Staring through the windshield. 

He kept his voice steady by sheer force, one hand locked on the wheel. His other hand shot out, catching her shoulder and pressing her back against the seat. He didn’t know what was coming. He just knew something was wrong.

“Reima. Wake up.”

“Wait! Don’t leave!” she cried, clawing for the door handle, eyes fixed on something only she could see. “Michael!” The name tore out of her.

“Shit!" he snapped. "Garth!” He forced the van onto the shoulder, gravel spitting under the tires.

Garth was already moving. He lunged forward, arms locking around her from behind, hauling her back against the seat. “Easy, Rae." To Dean, "I've got her.”

Dean twisted toward her as far as the console allowed, his hands framing her face. “Reima. Look at me. You’re in the van. You’re with me. Whatever you’re seein', it ain’t here.”

For a second, her eyes found his. Then they slipped past him again, and her hands pushed at his wrists like he was keeping her from Michael. Her sob tore loose, painful and broken.

“No! Let me go,” she sobbed. “Please, let me go.”

Dean’s chest caved in. She wasn’t with him. Not really. She was somewhere else, reaching for a dead man, and all he could do was hold on while it tore through her.

He had no idea how to bring her back.

One second she was there, screaming, fighting him, trying to get out of the cramped van. The next, his hands closed on empty air.

His jacket was the only thing left in the passenger seat, still warm from her body, slumped where she should’ve been. The seatbelt, still buckled, hung limp against the fabric. Garth was frozen behind him, arms wrapped around nothing, his face pale and horrified.

Her perfume was gone. So was the sound of her breathing. All that remained was the low, mindless hum of the radio and the ticking of the cooling engine.

“Dean?” Garth’s voice was a ragged whisper.

But Dean didn’t answer.

The van didn’t smell like exhaust or old upholstery anymore. It smelled like melted chocolate and malted nougat. A signature Dean knew too well. A calling card.

His fingers were still curved in the shape of her jaw, cupped around the space where she’d been a second ago. The feel of her tear-soaked face still burned in his palms.

He had just said the name Sam. He had just thought about home.

She was gone. And the silence was the loudest thing Dean had ever heard.

[moongrey13]

Hi!! One reader ask me to upload this on another site for visibility on their region. So, here... My take at Mi-yeong history with Rumi's Demon dad, Sarang. This is some context for my current fic Broken Glass, but really, just a really short chap in a bigger story.

Anyway, hope you like if you read it!

[getyoursorryasstomine]

Mourning Monica like it’s my full time job

[doctorryland]

Pregnant Tommy my savior. Okay but what if Buck has him blocked??? And like Tommy’s seat in a bad place, so he doesn’t really try to fight back. And Lucy?? Lucy is right there all along with him, being his sole support system

oooh the angst, i love it.

——-

Today 12:30 PM

Tommy: Evan, can we talk? I have something important to tell you.

Tommy waited, anxious. His eyes flitted back and forth between the pregnancy test and the unanswered message. He knew that Evan probably wouldn’t answer, but he just needed an answer just this once.

Evan: No, we can’t talk. You did all the talking you needed to do. [2:30 PM]

The message broke Tommy’s heart when he read it, but that was the price he had to pay.

Tommy: Okay, goodbye Evan. [2:35 PM]

Sent as a Text Message

Tommy closed his eyes. It was going to be okay. Tommy pressed a hand on his flat stomach. It was just going to be him and the baby.

“It’s okay munchkin, it’s all going to be okay.”

——

“What’s going on with you?” Lucy leaned against the lockers. Tommy sighed as he closed his locker.

“I’m pregnant.” Tommy looked over at Lucy.

“What?”

“I’m pregnant, Luce.”

“Have you told Cap?” Tommy shook his head.

“Not yet,” Lucy raised an eyebrow.

“I will!” Tommy insisted.

“Okay, just make sure to tell him soon.

“I will.” Lucy gave him a smile.

“If you need anything I’m here.”

“Thanks.”

——

“Congratulations Mr. Kinard, it’s a boy.” Tommy smiled, he looked at the ultrasound, there he was, there was his baby boy.

“Do you have a named pick out?” The technician asked as she cleaned up.

“I’m thinking about Eli.” Buckley as a middle name went unsaid.

“Eli is a lovely name.” Tommy smiled as he gathered his coat and left the office.

——

The duffle bag dropped to the floor with a thud.

“What do you have in there rocks?” Tommy joked, as Lucy began to unzip the bag.

“That and millions of clothes.” Tommy’s smile faded.

“You really don’t have to do this, I’ll be perfectly fine.” Tommy waddled towards Lucy.

“I want to do this, okay? I want to help my friend.”

“Are you sure, cause that baby might not come for a bit.”

“Or he could come tomorrow and you’d be in a pickle cause no way you can drive yourself safely to the hospital. So just let me stay here and help. Okay?”

“Okay. Thank you Luce.”

“Anytime Tommy.”

——

FIRST: Eli MIDDLE: Buckley LAST: Kinard

SEX: Male DATE OF BIRTH: June 7th, 2024

TIME OF BIRTH: 12:04 AM

BIRTH WEIGHT: 7. 0 LBS

TRIPLETS, TWINS, SINGLE, ECT: Single

CITY OF BIRTH: Los Angeles, CA, USA

PARENT A: RELATIONSHIP: Father

LAST: Kinard MIDDLE: John FIRST: Tommy

PARENT B: RELATIONSHIP:

LAST: MIDDLE: FIRST:

Tommy signed the birth certificate, as he kept glancing towards the blank “parent B” spot. He gave the certificate back to the nurse and looked over at the sleeping baby. It was all going to be okay.

“Knock, knock.” Tommy looked up to see Lucy who had been with him throughout his labor, holding a box of sushi.

“Come in, you really didn’t have to do that Luce.”

“I did, someone needs to take care of you after you gave birth to a whole human. Tommy smiled.

“I did that, didn’t I?”

“Yeah you did.” Lucy set her bag down on the couch and then sat on the edge of the bed.

“I’m proud of you Tommy. You are going to be an amazing father.”

“I love you Luce.” Lucy kissed the top of Tommy’s head.

“I love you too Tommy. You and Eli.”

“Just don’t spoil him rotten.”

“That’s the point of an aunt and don’t tell me he hasn’t had you wrapped around his little baby fingers since that moment you found out.”

“Fine… he has,” Tommy sighed as he looked over at his sleeping son. “I just love him so damn much.”

“I know you do Tommy, I know you do.

[loveliesimagine]

neon moon ✮⋆˙ dan/arin

a/n: i had the help of one of my good friends on this one! i know it's some heavy stuff for a first imagine, but we spent hours on it and i'm quite proud of it, as angsty as it is. enjoy!

word count: 2,477

The stale, stagnant air of the recording room served as an endless echo chamber for the fabricated ramblings of a friendship worn thin. Just beyond the door, a separate world of busywork and chatter beckoned invitingly, but it wasn’t time yet. There were but four minutes flickering on the neon clock, which Dan privately cursed himself for checking as frequently as he did. It wasn’t his fault- obviously he loved his job, he loved his coworkers (subordinates? friends? he really didn’t know anymore), but being here was the last thing he needed right now. It wasn’t Arin’s fault, either, although his presence wasn’t exactly comforting. Normally, work was an escape, but the extraneous persona Arin insisted upon was growing tiresome, and at that present moment, Dan simply couldn’t take it. In a way, he envied him, because it seemed as though Arin could flip a switch and become the marketable, chaotic force that their fans loved so dearly, while Dan struggled to fit through the door of the office with the baggage he tried and failed to force in. He couldn’t help but stare at his companion as he began the obligatory outro, becoming dangerously aware of his own silence and cursing himself for not contributing more. The fans would notice his change in demeanour, and the clock was pulsating with a threatening urgency, showing two minutes remaining. Dan knew he had to pull himself together, even for a fleeting moment, to feign normalcy, to pretend he’d been paying attention to this seemingly never-ending gameplay, to convince their devoted fanbase that nothing had changed and everything was fine. 

“Dan, uh… you got anything to say?”

Arin’s words sliced through Dan’s internal monologue, reverberating through his core. He tried to swallow his uneasiness, the acute awareness that even through Arin’s disingenuous projection, he knew something was different. For now, he didn’t care about that- he was in the home stretch, he just needed to cross the finish line.

“Shit, uh, wow. What is there to say? If you’ve made it this far, thank you and… I’m sorry.”

Arin laughed dryly but cocked his head in a way that let Dan know he wasn’t off the hook just yet. He tried to swallow the bile forming a tar pit in his throat as Arin closed out the episode, directing his focus to anything but the burning in his chest and the man next to him. 

The clock read 00:00:00, signifying not just the close of the episode, but the end of the recording session. Normally this was when he would take in a breath, and feel the relief of the promise of going home, but home was nothing if not an extension of the discomfort he was already in. At least with Arin, he could cling to their former glory, their “Golden Age,” knowing the pride that it gave him would be understood. In recent years, he had been able to ride that wave of courage and affirmation that he could play the role of the big softie he had grown fame for. As of late, the avoidance of feelings, the illusion of a functioning work-based friendship had taken a toll on Dan’s capacity to produce a performance worth trust and appraisal.

“What the fuck was that, dude?”

Dan suppressed an eye roll- he knew that he was right, but he didn’t want to acknowledge it.

“What do you mean?” Arin shot him a look that Dan knew meant he wasn’t going to entertain his facade of ignorance. “Whatever dude, you and I both know you don’t want to go there, so just drop it.”

Those were the words that set Arin off his tipping point. He was tired of these snippy remarks Dan felt comfortable enough voicing, as if they didn’t have any effect on him.

“Is this seriously because of what happened on Suzy’s birthday?”

Dan threw his hands up in mock surrender and prepared to leave. “Oh, yeah, because it’s seriously because of one night of honesty I’m pissed off?” Arin looked at him as if it should be obvious that that should be the case, “No, dude, this shit stacks up! I’m not just pissed off because of what happened on Saturday, but it’s not like that isn’t a factor- it’s just,” he let out a deep sigh and used all his energy on not tearing up, “it’s a lot of things, okay? I can’t take this right now, I’m sorry.” Dan’s heart raced as he danced around the subjects that had been plaguing his mind for, god, who knows how long? He knew that Arin had been in a relationship with Suzy for far longer than any of Dan’s past relationships, but the pain of the love he felt for his co-star that stung his skin- he couldn’t follow the narrative that Arin was in just as much turmoil as he was.

“I’m sorry, what the fuck else would I think it was? It’s not like you’ve let me in on whatever the fuck you’ve been feeling.”

“Because you’ve asked so many times how I’m feeling? Yeah, whatever, you’re clearly not ready for this conversation.”

“Because it’s always on your fucking terms, yeah, okay Danny, go ahead and push the blame on me for not knowing intuitively how you feel.”

“Sorry for thinking my best friend would maybe have an inkling of an idea of how I’m feeling, given the fucking bullshit we’ve been darting around for the last two fucking years.” There, he said it, essentially. He all but acknowledged the growing gap between them, and the budding resentment that had been cultivated due to their mutually assured ignorance.

Arin stood up, at a loss for words, he made for the door. Dan soon followed, standing, not wanting to let Arin leave first—it was petty, but he wanted to leave sooner so that for once, Arin wouldn’t have the last word.

“No, you’re not gonna do this, I’m not gonna let you leave the conversation just because you heard something you didn’t want to.” He let his words linger in the air for a moment, before continuing. “This is why we never hang out anymore.” They stood before each other, wordless. Dan was shocked he finally said that, and regretted that he hadn’t said it sooner. Arin was shocked he had said it at all.

“Wow, dude!” Arin replied. He swallowed the tension, palpable in the air, and Dan bites back the urge to further instigate. “What the fuck is this? What is this actually about?”

Dan scoffed, “as if you don’t even know?!”

“No, please! Enlighten me! What the fuck did I do that’s so horrible?!”

“It’s not that black and white! For fuck’s sake, Arin, I’m nothing without you. You know that.”

“No I don’t,” Arin snarled. “If you’re gonna start with the self-pity shtick, it sounds like you’ve already made up your mind. You don’t even want a conversation, you just want me to echo what you already believe.”

“And what? What do I already believe, Arin? No, tell me!”

“That you’re looking for something in me that you know I don’t have? That you’re using me as a way out of a dead end?!”

Dan sat on Arin’s words for a moment. An induced lull brought on by the pettiness of both men, neither wanting to say something to jeopardize the integrity of their relationship that they’d grown accustomed to. Arin let out a soft, disarming chuckle.

“God, you’re unbelievable,” said Dan.

“Can’t you see that we’ve been dancing around in circles forever? Just say what the fuck you mean!”

Dan opened the door and left the recording room.

Dan stormed out, with Arin quick to follow behind him. “God, you’re unbelievable!” he repeated. “You think it’s all about you. Try thinking about how it makes me feel!” 

Arin stepped in front of Dan and gave him an apprehensive look, “Listen dude, just because I don’t say anything, doesn’t mean I don’t notice.”

Dan scoffed again, this time in Arin’s face. They were standing in a tight hallway, with white shelves lit up with LED strips, encasing Amiibos. 

“So what the fuck does that mean?” Dan retorted, uncaring of how he was coming off. He was pissed off, he had been for years, and he felt just in his anger towards his friend. 

Arin rolled his eyes at Dan’s snide response, “Whatever dude, I don’t want to have this conversation surrounded by a bunch of fucking Amiibos.”

Arin turned around and began walking away from Dan, when Dan grabbed him by his shoulder and exclaimed, “if not now, then fucking when?!” Their eyes locked on each other’s. Arin glanced at Dan’s lips, he thought to himself he might have seen a quiver—when Dan got worked up, he always got a few twinges in his face, Arin knew. The deafening silence of the hallway allowed for their ears to hone in on the natural sounds of their bodies, the swallowing, their breathing, hot on each other’s exposed skin. Dan felt his emotions brewing inside of him, he was so pissed off at Arin for his apathy, short temper, and avoidance, but he couldn’t help admiring how the light reflected off his skin. He wanted to kiss him but he knew he couldn’t.

“Dan…” Arin started, soberly, “Danny, you know I care about you, but now is not the time.” Dan looked like he was about to start up again, but Arin stopped him with a hand on his chest, poignantly not looking in his eyes—he couldn’t bear to look at those deep, big brown eyes of Danny’s. “I know, I know, we’ve been avoiding talking about things for a while now, but I’m certain, I’m certain you can realize that talking about this here, in the Grumps office, in this hallway? We can’t do it.” 

“I just-” Dan’s semi-hardened exterior cracking, “I just want to be honest with you… About us.” He said, placing a hand on Arin’s cheek, turning his face towards his. Arin pulled Dan’s hand away, and closed his eyes. 

“Danny I-” tears began to well at the corners of Arin’s eyes, “I’m sorry… So fuckin’ sorry.” He finally looked up at Dan.

“It’s okay, come here Big Bear.” Dan brought Arin in for an embrace. Arin let out a small, defeated sigh, and chuckled. “How many times do I need to tell you to not call me that here?” He smiled, softening into Dan’s arms, snuggled beneath his chin.

“I’m past the point of caring.”

Arin grimaced against the familiar warmth wrapped around him. “You know it’s not over yet, right?”

Dan sighed, bristling against his boss. “It may as well be.”

“Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what, man?! I mean, fuck, do you even remember the last time we were close like this?”

“I try not to.”

Dan let go, staggering back and struggling to maintain any facade of nonchalance. “I’m sorry?”

“Right, because remembering what we were does us both so much good.” Arin spat. “I’m doing us both a favour. You need to… fuck, I… we… need to move on. Okay?” His words hung heavy in the air, as Dan tried not to choke on them. Arin sighed and started again, “I understand that you’re going through a lot, I am too. But this? This isn’t helping either of us. You know that. I know you’re smart enough to know that.”

Dan wanted to let go, God, did he ever, but he couldn’t. And more importantly, he wouldn’t let himself. “So that’s it? You want to shut me up, so that’s all there is to it? What about me? Huh? Ever stopped to think about how the fuck I’m feeling?”

“All I do is stop. All I do is drop everything for your every whim when we don’t even fucking talk outside of these walls. I mean, come on, man, even if I gave in, if we ran off and abandoned everything together, things would still be weird. And you pretending like it’s as simple as me fessing up isn’t getting us anywhere.”

“Oh my god, yes, because I obviously think we’re going to live out the Brokeback Mountain ending of our dreams, riding off into the sunset!”

“Dan, I don’t think that movie ends how you think it does.”

“Well, I could never finish it because all I could do is think about us!”

They were still standing in the Amiibo hallway. Arin laughed through tears, overwhelmed by the outburst of emotion perspiring between them, “heh do you remember that one time? At the bowling alley?”

Dan placed a finger on his lips, “no… not now. For me, please don’t.”

“I thought you loved remembering.”

Normally, Dan would’ve suppressed an eye-roll at that, but the gentle informality, the soft reminiscence curled his chapped lips into a smile. “Shut up.”

“I thought you’d never stop laughing. You were giddy just about the whole way home, and the way-” Arin took Dan’s face in his hand and caught his gaze, “the way you fell asleep on my chest… I hadn’t been that at peace, that comfortable, in a long time.” 

The moment lingered for what felt like forever. The two men soaked in the silence, the pure and honest exposure of feelings released in needed and craved earnesty. Their hands somehow found each other’s, warm, dry, they fit into each other like two puzzle pieces, destined for one another. 

A woman peered around the corner at the end of the hallway, “uhh, guys?” The Grumps snapped away from each other. For Dan, the separation left him cold, and burned across his skin. For Arin, reality quickly set in and he returned to his bitter, hardened self, accepting the fact that they will never get to fully express themselves in the way they both wished they could. “We’re locking up now, sooo…” Allie stalled, “I’m sure your wives are wondering where you both are.”

“Shut the fuck up, Allie.” Arin barked.

“Okay then,” and Allie crept back to where she had come from.

Arin and Dan were frozen, still in the middle of the hallway, illuminated by the blinding LEDs. Their eyes caught each other’s, Arin began, “listen man, I think it’s best we put this all behind us, and I know you do too.” He had a sense of finality in his voice, and poked Dan in his chest. He began to walk away and around the corner, when he turned around and finished, “oh by the way, we’re starting a new playthrough tomorrow, so try to get here on time, okay? I’ll see you then.” He gave the wall a bump with his fist and disappeared around the corner. Dan was left alone with himself, as always, standing resolute and forsaken, surrounded by the soulless eyes of Arin’s collection of Amiibos.

[chaotic-orphan]

Hey! I've just read your defiant leader x confident villain story and HOLY SHIT is it good. I love the personalities that you've given the characters, and how the villain doesn't really want to hurt the leader and is trying to ignore all of their feeling. Ugh!

I would love it if you could write more of the story. I have a feeling there's a lot more twists and turns on the horizon 👀✨

Defiant Leader x Confident Villain (5)

Read part one here

Continued from here

Guys… i am so sorry to everyone who has requested more parts for this series… it has taken literally months, I am only finished now because I queued it when I discovered it again! I am very sorry, it is an active WIP again!! I hope you enjoy!

TW: NEEDLES

~*~*~*~*~*~

Leader woke to the door of his room opening. He was still sitting in the chair in the room where Supervillain left him. The last thing he remembered was staring at the wall to pass the time, limbs still tied down tightly. Sometimes, when he was feeling adventurous, he’d glare down at the hammer that mangled his hand, but even that got boring. He didn’t realise he fell to sleep until he was waking up with the click of the lock in the door.

He didn’t have time to wake up, so his mind shot alert, clearing the fog that usually came with waking suddenly. He felt his body come alive at the thoughts of Supervillain coming to destroy his other hand. His limbs were asleep but still Leader made a fist with his free hand trying to get feeling back into it just in case.

What he could do to fight against Supervillain he didn’t know, but… but who was he kidding?! Supervillain seemed to smash every bone in his good hand, his strong hand, his punching hand.

Leader wanted to cry out as he tried to make a fist with his hand on instinct, but swallowed the cry to a sharp hiss as loud, quick footsteps thundered behind Leader’s chair and they froze.

Those footsteps were unmistakable, and there was only one set. A swift slap to the back of the head and Leader let out a startled: “ow!”

“You deserve more than that, you fucking idiot!” Villain hissed, coming to stand in front of Leader, setting a doctor’s bag down on the floor in front of Leader and dropping to one knee, unzipping it. “What were you thinking, pissing Supervillain off, Leader? Do you know how difficult you are making everything for me?”

“How about you just let me go and I’ll be out of your hair.”

Villain jerked their head up, piercing gaze furious and accusing. “Would you? Be out of my hair?” Villain challenged. Leader was the first to look away, and Villain scoffed, before dipping their head again and searching through the bag beside him. “Yeah. Thought so.”

“Villain… I…” Leader began, searching for the words to express themselves, but none came, and Villain didn’t seem to be in the mood to hear them even if they did somehow miraculously find the words to defend themselves. “Look, you don’t have to keep coming to my rescue.”

“Clearly I do,” Villain ground out, accusing eyes finding Leader’s again. “If you keep riling Supervillain up, Leader, he will kill you. I’m not fucking around. He will murder you, but you won’t die quickly. It will be long, drawn out, torturous.”

Leader’s brows lowered over their eyes, hooding the sockets in shadow. “I know that, Vil.”

“I don’t think you do!”

Leader’s eyes widened at the intensity colouring Villain’s voice, the slight fear in their eyes as they spoke. It was almost… desperate, almost helpless. Villain scoffed and looked away, running a hand through their hair, pulling slightly at the end of the strands.

Leader frowned. “Villain… what’s that look?”

Villain didn’t answer right away but a million different thoughts seemed to flash across his expression— doubt, fear, disgust anxiety. Every time Villain opened their mouth to speak they seemed to pause, chew their words, search for a better way to say what they wanted to tell Leader.

Eventually a grim resolution moulded their features and they looked at Leader again instead of through them.

“Supervillain,” Villain began hesitantly not quite meeting Leader’s gaze, and instead running a nervous hand through their hair. “He didn’t exactly trust me when I wanted to join his side so he devised a sort of… test, or trial run and he gave me the job he thought I would run away scared from.”

Villain risked a glance at Leader’s expression, then let out a long sigh and pinched the bridge of their nose, rocking back on their heels.

“It’s not something I’m proud of but I had to prove myself and if I didn’t do it someone else would have—”

“It’s okay, Vil,” Leader told them. Startled eyes found Leader’s and Villain’s expression softened slightly, shoulders losing tension. “Go on.”

“He made me the interrogator… or that’s what he called it, he made me his torturer,” Villain said quietly and it was as if all the oxygen had been sucked from the room. Leader stared at Villain, studying their face. Villain let out a shaky breath. “Every Hero we captured, or enemy someone brought in I would take care of them. Get information, work the confessions out of them, or just make them suffer— whatever Supervillain told me to do.”

Villain licked their lips, their eyes looking down to their hands before continuing.

“That’s not even the worst part, Leader,” Villain continued, tightening their hands into fists. They raised their head, gaze steeled and said: “The worst part was that I was good at it.”

Leader would rather Villain pick up the hammer and smash their other hand, or every single bone in their body rather than tell them this. Rather than this be true, because Villain wasn’t… Villain couldn’t— Villain… it felt like all air was robbed from their chest as they stared at Villain and for the first time since they came, Leader finally saw Villain.

They saw how much Villain changed. The little moments that were shining through of the old Villain were only that. Fleeting moments. Villain looked the same, although they had a new haircut and a crueller smirk. They carried themselves a little taller, but they looked like Leader’s Villain, but there was something now that seemed to finally let Leader see the real Villain.

The new Villain.

As if a blindfold had just been taken off Leader’s eyes.

Villain looked older, not by much but they had a less innocence in their eyes. Instead they were hard, certain kernels of experience. They didn’t just carry themselves taller, Villain had a new confidence about them as if they had finally found their calling. As if they were born to be a Villain, to be an… interrogator.

Villain’s expression softened and they turned away, letting out a shaky laugh. “You hate me now, don’t you?”

“Not even a little bit,” Leader said without hesitation. Villain let the shock show across their face as they met Leader’s eyes again.

Leader forced their resolve to show on their face, as sure as anything. “You did what you felt you had to do, Vil,” Leader continued softly. “You did what I always knew you could: you survived everything that life threw at you. How could I hate you for that?”

Villain looked so vulnerable in that moment, and Leader wished that they had seen it sooner. They wished they noticed how lost Villain was within the team, how sad they were. Always lashing out, always a little more distant and reserved.

“I should have done more, Vil,” Leader said and Villain rocked back on their heels, shaking their head side to side. They opened their mouth to reply but Leader beat them to it. “No, I should’ve, I’m sorry you felt like you had to leave the team. I’m sorry about the way things ended… I— I miss you, if I’m honest. But sometimes…”

The words were rushing out of Leader’s mouth now, all emotion. “Sometimes when we start out life presents us with opportunities and we just go along with them because, well, what other option do we have? But you… I’ve never seen you more alive, more at peace. You really seem to have found your place in the world Villain and I couldn’t be more happy for you.”

“You can’t say that, Leader,” Villain whispered.

Leader laughed. “Says who?”

Villain frowned. “We are enemies, we’re on the opposing sides. We can’t— there is no world where we’re friends.”

“Just because I don’t agree with you, Villain, doesn’t mean I don’t know you. I don’t still care for you, that the years we shared mean nothing.”

“It does,” Villain protested. “It has too.”

Leader leaned forward in their chair. “If it does, then what the hell are you here for, Villain?”

The question was like a slap of reality that stunned Villain for a moment before they sighed. They glanced down to the bag they brought in and rummaged through it, pulling out a small black case and flicking it open.

Inside was a needle and a small bottle of something. Villain reached in and grabbed the needle. Villain reached into the bag and drew out two medical gloves and slide them onto their hands, snapping the band at the end of one and grinning up at Leader.

It unnerved Leader a little as they stared down at the bottle, trying to read whatever it was Villain was so happy about showing them. Now with the knowledge that Villain was the resident torturer.

Not that it was particularly news to Leader. When rumours started circulating about Supervillain’s new vicious agony agent it was Rogue who brought the idea of Villain to Leader’s attention. Rogue ran with other people before Leader; heroes, vigilantes, villains… probably the one with the most contacts across the city.

“How certain are you?” Leader asked them.

Rogue shrugged one shoulder. “I trust contact with my life. They’re not the gossiping type.”

Leader didn’t show it then, but the thought, the very possibility that it could have been Villain terrified them. How wrong did they go with Villain to make them want to hurt people? But looking at them now, Leader couldn’t help but see the same Villain they had always known. Maybe just more grown up and sure of themselves. The way they were working so deftly with the needle and vial. Drawing some liquid into the needle and spurting it back out again to re-draw.

They smiled up at Leader once they were satisfied and started rubbing Leader’s hand with cotton balls covered in rubbing alcohol. Leader hissed jerking their arm back, but Villain continued as if Leader was sitting quiet as a mouse.

“I know, but you gotta hurt to get better. No pain no gain, right?” Villain asked with a grin. Leader smothered their anxiety at that grin. Villain’s old reassuring grin, the same one they wore before they ran recklessly from the group to defend them. When they directly disobeyed Leader’s orders to intercept their enemies before it was time.

Now, it wasn’t any of that. It was reassuring and light, so Leader nodded and set their jaw into a tight line as Villain smoothed the skin on Leader’s hand. Leader clenched their teeth as their bone rubbed off bone.

“Okay, this will hurt.”

That was all the warning Leader got before Villain plunged the needle into their hand. Leader jolted forwards, swallowing a scream to a mewling whine in the back of their throat instead.

They felt the liquid being injected into their hand, it was a strange sensation but not one that was unfamiliar. Once Villain had thumbed down the plunger and injected all of the liquid they pulled it out gently. They replaced it with a cotton pad the dab the blood away.

Leader stared at Villain. “Okay. That actually wasn’t that bad,” Leader told them.

Villain grimaced. “Leader, that was the easy part.”

Leader frowned and then the pain came. It was a simmering kind of burning at first and Leader’s wide eyes shot to Villain’s.

“Vil… what is this? What is this?” They rushed out, gasping between the questions.

“It’s okay, Leader. It just resets the bones in your hand.”

“It what?” Leader shrieked, closing their eyes as they felt their bones start to move in their hand.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Leader cried as their hand ignited in agony. They gasped and shot forward as far as the ropes would allow them, their neck muscles straining as they tried to not scream but their hand was on fire.

“Hey, Leader. It’s okay, I know. I know.” Leader only very distantly heard Villain whispering assurances and comforting words to them as they writhed beneath the ropes.

“Villain!” Leader gasped, throwing their head back as a guttural scream was torn from their throat. Leader kicked out and tried to buck themselves out of the chair but the ropes just remained firm as Leader screamed louder than they ever have before. The pain ricocheted from their hand — where their bones were moving and mending under their skin — all the way to their shoulders and then deeper into their chest.

It was too much.

Stars burst behind their eyes as they felt their bones crack into place.

Villain was speaking to them. Lips moving but Leader couldn’t hear a word they said. Villain’s eyes widened as Leader let the blackness swallow them, the last thing they saw was Villain lurching from their crouch.

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Continued here

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