#castiels-bucky-tray

[wrenhyperfixates]

All I Need is You

Pairing: Loki x reader Summary: You do so much for everyone else and so little for yourself that when you almost collapse, Loki finally gets you to agree to let him take care of you. Warnings: the reader skips some meals; a lot of fluff A/N: Its really just Loki taking care of you. But please remember to take care of yourselves too everyone!! Hope you enjoy :)

Permanent Tag List: @lucywrites02​ @frostedficrecs​ @lunarmoon8​ @twhiddlestonsstuff​ @lokistan​ @lowkeyorlokificrecs​ @gaitwae​ @whatafuckingdumbass​ @castiels-majestic-wings​ @kozkaboi​ @cozy-the-overlord​ @birdgirl90​ @myraiswack @mythicalgarlicknot @what-a-flammable-heart @marvelouslovely @laurenandloki @fallinallinmendes @sophlubbwriting @mooncat163 @lokislittlesigyn @wolfish-trickster

Disclaimer: Gif not mine

Loki was watching you even more carefully than normal these days. Yes, you’d caught his eye even on your first day in the Tower back when you were just a new recruit, a SHIELD agent with some kind of sixth sense that let you anticipate things, recently transferred to the Avengers Tower. Even now no one was entirely sure if it was a power or just an uncanny knack you had that made you extremely good at your job. Regardless, the trickster god could see how the ability had shaped you.

You’d only been in the Tower a week when you’d started running errands all over the city, offering things to people before they could even think they needed it themselves, then going to pick it up for them. Loki had declined the offer after hearing all the places you were already going. He’d hoped it was a fluke, that you wouldn’t make it a habit of taking care of everyone. Not that it was inherently bad, he just knew how tiring it could be to please everyone, worried that you would burn out. Of course, you had kept doing it, and his worries turned out to be justified.

“Darling, are you going out again?” Loki asked as you passed his seat in the common room on your way to the elevator. He set his book down, frowning. “Did you not just go yesterday? Unless, of course, this time it is for you. Then by all means, please be on your way.”

“No... It’s just Steve and Bucky were talking about some cereals they used to like and we don’t have any in the Tower so...” you trailed off, shuffling your feet.

“And can they not wait for it until the next scheduled trip to the supermarket?”

“Well, yeah, they said they could. But I don’t mind.”

Loki stood and sighed, walking over to you. Gently, so you didn’t have to comply if you didn’t want to, Loki lifted your chin to look at him. You looked tired. Admirable as it was that you wanted to do things for others, you needed a rest day.

“And tell me, darling, when was the last time you did something for yourself?” He waited a moment for an answer, but was met with silence. “What about that drawing you started two months ago? Have you worked on that more?”

“It wasn’t any good, anyway,” you shrugged. “I’ve been busy.”

“It was wonderful,” he reassured you. “What about eating, though? Have you eaten today?”

“I... I had a mint.”

“That does not count.” Now he was outright worried. You did this every once in a while, saying you just got so caught up in other things, you forgot to eat. Whatever the reason, it troubled Loki. “You have had some water at least? You know what, do not answer. I am sure I know already. Just wait here a moment.”

You waited by the lift as Loki padded to the kitchen, searching for a water bottle. The problem went beyond just these shopping trips. Sometimes when Tony or Bruce got stuck on one of their projects, you’d pore over books and blueprints for hours, searching for the answer, losing sleep. Then other times, you took it upon yourself to plan events for the team. It was more than a simple, casual invitation. No, it usually involved at least three days of extensive planning. Everyone enjoyed them and was appreciative, needing a break from their day-to-day lives, but it just took up more of your time and brainpower. Pile that onto your own training and missions, it was enough to wear anyone out.

But what he both loved and hated the most was how you’d always be there to talk. Not just for him, but for everyone. And not merely a laid-back chat, either. No, they were practically therapy sessions. Again, just like all the other things you did, that would be all fine and good, except for the fact you never talked about your own issues. You just did so much for everyone else and practically nothing for yourself, even something so basic as remembering to eat, that it broke Loki’s heart a little more every day.

“Here,” he said, handing you the plastic bottle. “But I am coming with you.”

Smiling brightly, you led the way out into the city streets. You chatted as you went about your task, and Loki was yet to take his eyes off of you. It wasn’t until you started the journey back, however, that he began to grow worried. You hadn’t taken even the smallest sip of the water he’d fetched for you, and on this hot day, it was clearly taking its toll. You stumbled a little, suddenly looking more out of it than Loki could stand. He gently gripped your arm to steady you and led you to a bench. Grabbing the water out of your backpack, Loki uncapped it and held the bottle to your lips.

“Drink,” he ordered, but with kindness in his tone.

One of your hands that was gripping the bench a bit too tightly in an attempt to ground your dizzy mind came up to take the bottle from him. Complying, you downed nearly half the bottle in one gulp. It seemed that was a mistake as your empty stomach gargled, rebelling against the sudden intake. Loki rubbed large circles on your back while you scrunched your eyes closed, breathing deeply as you tried to force yourself to feel better.

“Are you alright, darling?” Loki asked when you felt well enough to take another few small sips. You nodded your head, eyes still closed. “Now do you see why it is important to take care of yourself? Will you please get some rest this afternoon?”

“I’m fine, really. Don’t worry, I-”

“That is madness!” Both Loki and you flinched at his sudden increase in volume. He removed his hand from your back, feeling unworthy to make contact with you after snapping like that. You were his friend, and he was yelling at you for something like this? It made him disappointed in himself. He sighed. “Listen, I am sorry. All I mean is I care about you. I do not like to see you like this. It is not healthy, and I believe you know that.”

You opened your eyes, blinking at him. “You-you care about me?”

Loki felt heat flood to his cheeks as he realized that he had, in fact, said that. “I do. So will you please let me take care of you?”

You bit your lip for a minute. “I will,” you sighed, giving in.

Satisfied, Loki coaxed you into accepting a piggyback ride the rest of the way home. You placed your forehead in the crook of his neck, enjoying his cool skin against yours, which was noticeably overheating. He quickly tossed the grocery bags of cereal onto the counter and brought you to your room, your own little pocket of the world that you trusted Loki enough to share with him if even for a moment. Laying you down on your bed, he told you to rest for a minute, lips placing a ghost of a kiss on your forehead.

The god moved to your bathroom, looking for what he needed. After preparing a bubble bath with nice, cool water, Loki left you to sink into it with only the order to relax. While you did, he hurried to prepare you a light meal, something that wouldn’t upset your stomach. When you padded out of the bathroom in the soft pajamas Loki had left for you and saw the meal on a tray on your bedside table, a smile tugged at your lips.

Loki peeled back the silken sheets he’d put on your bed so you could get under them. With a little bit of difficulty—Loki never had gotten a firm grasp on understanding Midgardian technology—he flipped through the channels on your TV until you found something you wanted to watch while you ate.

“Is there anything else you need?” he asked once you were done eating, before leaving you to your own devices.

You bit your lip as you thought before ultimately shaking your head no. “I’m good thanks.”

“Please, darling, be honest with me,” he pleaded. “Anything you want. Name it, and it is yours.”

“Will you stay with me?” you blurted out. “No, I’m sorry, that’s ridiculous. I’ve taken up enough of your time.”

“Darling,” he tsked. “The only thing on my schedule today is taking care of you.”

You smiled as he slid under the sheets next to you, wrapping his arms around your body and pulling you onto his lap. You twisted your body so you could look at him and tuck a few locks of his raven hair behind his ear. You were living in your own place in time, the two of you finding a safe haven in each other’s arms.

“You know what would make me really happy, Loki?” you began. “If I got to give you a little, thank you. Would that be alright?”

The god hesitated for a moment. “I suppose. Depending on what it is.”

“Can I... Would it be alright if I kissed you?”

“Well, that depends, again.”

“On?”

“On whether or not we can make it a regular occurrence,” Loki replied with a playful grin.

“You know, you are always saying I should do things that make me happy. So yes, yes we absolutely can.”

“In that case,” he said, already leaning in, “what are you waiting for?”

Giggling, you bridged the gap between you. As Loki smiled against your lips, he realized something. No matter how stubborn either of you were when it came to accepting help for yourselves, you’d always have the other to take care of you. And even more importantly, Loki thought, you’d have each other to love.

[itsanerdlife]

Come Back to Me 8/20

Pairing: Clint Barton x Coulson’s Daughter!Reader

Warning: Angst. Drama. Struggles. Violence? Lying. Anger. Soul shattering ache in your chest. Self hate. Doubts. Plot twist!

Everything slips right through his hands in the blink of an eye. Clint Barton can fix anything. World Ending? Save it. Bad Guys? Take ‘em out. The love of his life, his soul mate, forgetting their whole relationship? Fight even harder. She might not remember what they have. She might be confused, lost, scared, but it’ll be a cold day in hell if she thinks he’ll give up that easy. He’ll do anything he has too. Help her remember, or make her fall in love with him, all over again. But what if it’s not him that she’s getting close to this time? What if it’s a losing fight? Is he supposed to watch the woman he loves, fall for someone else? Like hell, is he letting that happen.

Tag List Is Open!!

You sat up in bed, three doctors stood in your room. You remember Cho, she smiles at you with sympathy at the corners of her eyes. You look yourself over, confused. How did you end up here?

“I’m Dr. Strange. This is Dr. Palmer.” A tall man introduces himself and the other doctor.

“May I asked what happened?” You had a bad taste in your mouth. “And for some water, please?” Palmer moves, grabbing a cup off the tray. She hands it over to you.

“What do you remember Agent?” Dr. Strange asks.

“Ah.” You sip the water slowly trying to recall. Things are fuzzy, like someone erased your tapes. “I can’t tell you honestly.” You admit.

“Do you know your name? The woman next to you?” He lifts a brow.

“Agent Y/N Coulson. She’s Dr. Cho.” You nod, sipping more water.

“Correct. Anything else you remember?” He looks hopeful.

“I’m sorry Sir. I don’t speak freely in foreign company.” You lift your chin. “Without Captain Rogers or Director Fury, I can’t assume you have the same clearance.” You sip your water.

“I’ll retrieve Captain Rogers.” Cho nods, hurrying from the room.

“Do we know each other?” You look at Dr. Strange. You had the strangest feeling you couldn’t place.

“No ma’am we don’t.” He smiles softly at you.

Why did that feel like he was lying to you? You sip your water trying to understand. Steve walks into the room, there’s something different about him. He’s still ageless and perfected by science, but there’s an edge to him now.

“Agent Coulson.” He nods, taking a seat.

“Captain Rogers.” You set your water down.

“What do you remember last?” His brow is pulled tight. As if he was trying to keep his features flat and expressionless.

“I remember, the Russian Rogue Dictator. Coming home.” You pause, falling silent.

“What is it?” Steve wonders.

“I don’t remember anything after that.” You swallow. “Did something happen? The jet go down?” You look over at him, brow pulling in.

“That was your first mission. You took the dictator out with your bandanna.” Steve smiles.

“Why do I have a feeling of nostalgia?” You swallow.

“Y/N?” Nat stands in the open slider of your room.

“Nat?” Your brow pulls in.

“We need to talk.” She comes over, sitting on the edge of your bed.

“Don’t tell me my dad died.” You smile at her. Her and Steve exchange a look, it makes your chest tighten. “What’s wrong? Why do I feel like this? Like I’m missing things, like that man is lying to me and you two aren’t being honest?” You look between them.

“Y/N.” Nat sighs. “There was an accident.” She takes your hand.

“Who died?” You breathe. For some unknown reason Clint flashes in your mind.

“Y/N?” Cho moves towards you. The beeping has sped up rapidly. “What did you just think about?” She asks.

“Clint.” Your brow meets in the middle.

“He’s fine.” Steve blurts out. Slowly your heart rate calms.

“That was odd.” Confusion washing over you.

“You were in an accident. An explosion.” Nat explains. “You hit your head.” She nods.

“How long was I out?” You look between them.

“Four days.” Steve nods.

“But I’m fine, right?” You smile softly.

“Oh sweetie.” Nat swallows. “You’re missing the last four years.” She rushes out.

“What?” Your head spun, your stomach lurches.

“You have a mild case of amnesia.” Palmer explains.

“Mild?” You blanch.

“You could get your memories back. It’s just going to take some time.” She nods, trying to sound hopeful.

“Why four years? What am I missing?” You could feel the tears filling your eyes, panic spreading through your chest.

“That’s a lot. We’ll take it slow. Um, so you remember your first mission, that’s good.” Nat nods. “Well ah, Tony has a prodigy child. Peter Parker. He’s Spider-Man.” She watches you.

“Huh.” Your head tips. The name, the person, nothing came to mind. The feeling that washed over you though was one you didn’t understand.

“We have another member, you helped her. Wanda. She’s our best friend.” Nat squeezes your hand.

“Nothing is coming to mind.” You shake your head.

“It’s okay. It’ll take time.” Strange nods.

“What else? New members. Anything else big I need to know?” You look between Nat and Steve.

“You’ve been dating Clint Barton for four years.” Nat presses her lips together.

“No. No.” You laugh. “No.” Your laugh, gets a little panicked. “I’ve had two dates with him. Right?” You croak, looking between them.

“Sorry.” She smiles softly at you.

“Oh.” You breathe. Confusion raced through you, so why did you feel a flutter in you at the mention of Clint? Did it turn into more with him?

“The other thing.” Nat sucks in a breathe.

“What?” You blink at her.

“Do you remember the rumors, whispers of a Winter Solider?” She asks.

“Yeah, ghost stories of a Hydra soldier.” You nod.

“His name is Bucky Barnes, Y/N. He’s my childhood best friend. We saved him. He’s apart of the Avengers.” Steve nods.

“I’m, I’m going to need a lot more on that.” You nod.

“There’s more.” Nat admits.

“Okay?”

“He’s my husband, and it’s his arm you hit your head on in the explosion.” Nat looks so torn.

“His arm?” Your brow lifts.

“It’s made of Vibranium.” Steve explains.

“I hit my head on it?” Your brow pulls in once more.

“He was trying to save you.” Nat squeezes your hand.

“Are you okay?” Steve wonders, concern on his face.

“I’m horribly confused. Pretty panicked. But I have these strange feelings in my chest.” You admit.

“Like what?” Strange asks.

“Comfort? Understanding? Forgiveness?” You shrug.

“The team would like to see you. If you’re up for it.” Steve pats your knee.

“I could do that.” You nod. “Could it help?” You look at your doctors.

“It might, it might be the start to the path of getting your memory back.” Palmer nods.

“Okay. Do they know?” You wonder.

“They know you don’t remember. We’ll be patient and understanding.” Steve nods.

“I trust you.” You agree.

----------------

Everything Peaches 9/3/19 @mo320​ @courtmr​ @avxgers​ @eliza-kat​ @irepeldirt​ @jordan-ia​ @jcc04220​ @dumblani​ @nishanki1 @allyp1023​ @joannie95​ @rogvewitch​ @rileyloves5​ @sarahp879​ @sexyvixen7​ @doctoranon​ @queentoffee @abschaffer2​ @tony-stank3​ @tomhardy41​ @bookluver01​ @drayshadow​ @teller258316​ @wandressfox​ @cutekittybast​ @amandab-ftw​ @carostar2020​ @thelostallycat​ @henrietteoaks​ @nea90sweetie​ @circusofchaos​ @bettercallsabs​ @miraclesoflove​ @queenkrissy11​ @shield-agent78​ @elite4cekalyma​ @sadyoungadult​ @destiel-artemis​ @isabelcrichards​ @iwillbeinmynest​ @sweet-honey15​ @scooby-doodoo​ @chanelmadrid13​ @killerbumblebee​ @spookygrantaire​ @geeksareunique​ @supernatural508​ @itzmegaaaaaaan​ @optimistic-babes​ @elizabethaellison​ @rainbowkisses31​ @aspiringtranslator​ @mariekoukie6661​ @pure-princess-97​ @capsheadquaters​ @youclickedthislink​ @futuremrsb-r-main​ @lovemarvelousfics​ @notyourtypicalrose​ @petersunderoos96​ @loving-life-my-way​ @itsy-bitsy-spidergirl​ @buckystolemyheart​ @booktvmoviefangirl​ @thatpeachybandgirl​ @supernatural-girl97​ @abbypalmer14-blog​ @thefridgeismybestie​ @eggingamazinglove​ @deathofmissjackson​ @awkwardfangirl2014​ @muffininahandbasket​ @queenoftheunderdark​ @laneygthememequeen​ @writingaworldofmyown​ @death-unbecomes-you​ @shann-the-artist-moon​ @supernaturallover2002​ @daughterofthenight117​ @mcuwillbethedeathofme​ @verymuchclosetedfangirl​ @for-the-love-of-the-fandom​ @ocaptain-mycaptainmorgan​ @crazy-little-thing-called-buck​ @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked​ @stupendoussciencenaturepanda​ @supernatural-strangerthings-1980​

Clint ‘Destory Me, I’ll Thank You’ Barton: @ml7010​ @sfreeborn​ @tanelle83​ @coley0823​ @xxloki81xx​ @boltsgirl919​ @carissime72​ @katpatrova17​ @honey-bee-holly​ @marvelfansworld​ @badassbeckettswan​ @fallinginlovewithqueue​ @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123​

CBTM: @lakamaa12​ @alina-barnes​ @one-of-castiels​ @notyourtypicalrose​ @thecaptainsgingersnap​ @astudyoftimeywimeystuff​ @thedoctorlivesthroughbooks​ @jamesbarnesappreciationclub​

[kinkykinard]

Whumptober 2019 - Day 8

For @castiels-sunflowers.

Fandom: MCU. Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader. Prompt: Stab Wound. Word Count: 600. Warning(s): needles, stitches.

You glance up at Bucky as he recoils almost imperceptibly from you slipping a needle into his skin again, injecting a numbing agent into the area around a large, gaping wound in his shoulder.  

“You really should let me take you to a doctor, Buck,” you murmur, giving him a moment to recover his faculties before continuing on.

“I’m fine,” he says gruffly.  “And you are a doctor.”

You roll your eyes, setting the syringe aside on a nearby tray as you finish up, dabbing at the wound with a piece of sterile gauze to staunch the bleeding.

“I’m a veterinarian,” you argue.

“It counts,” he insists.

You shake your head, picking up a sharp pair of forceps and poking at the wound edges to assess whether the anaesthetic is working or not.  Judging by Bucky’s lack of reaction to the stimulus, you decide it’s working well enough and you pick up a needle driver so you can get to work against your better judgment.

“I’m used to working on patients with decidedly less muscle,” you murmur.  “And decidedly more fur.  This is probably going to scar and you’ve got nothing to cover it.”

Bucky laughs at that, glancing over his shoulder and catching your gaze briefly, wordlessly encouraging you to go on.

“So I’ll wear a shirt if it bothers you so much,” he reasons.  “It’s certainly not going to bother me any.”

You shake your head, taking a slow, deep breath to steady yourself before getting to work on Bucky’s wound.  You’ve sutured wounds on animals thousands of times, but you’ve never worked on a human.  The thought of working on your own boyfriend is especially distressing, but you power through it.

“Do I want to know how you got this wound?”  You ask, breaking the silence when it gets to be too much.

Bucky chuckles softly, the action jarring his body just a little, making him twitch while you work.  The distraction causes you to misjudge where you’re threading the needle next and you poke it in deeper than you meant to, eliciting a pained hiss from Bucky.  You freeze at the sound.

“Sorry!”  You say hurriedly, your tone taking on a steely note.  “I told you you should’ve let me take you to a hospital.”

Bucky glances over at you again, watching you as you get back to work.

“Don’t worry about me, doll, I can handle it,” he assures you.

Unconvinced, you continue working anyway.  The closure doesn’t take you much longer, and at the end of it all you pull your gloves off with a relieved sigh, feeling yourself sag from the tremendous effort of holding your emotions in check while working on Bucky.  Your head drops and you take a slow, cleansing breath, balling your hands into fists to stop them from shaking.

You jump, startled, as a second set of hands slowly closes around yours, stilling your jitters.  Even his cybernetic hand is warm and the heat from his touch comforts you a little, restoring some of your resolve.  You take one last deep breath and look up into Bucky’s smiling face, flashing him a small grin of your own.

“Hey, no fair,” you tease softly.  “I’m supposed to be the one comforting you.”

He reaches up with one hand, gently tweaking your chin, flashing you a wink.

“This is all the comfort I need,” he says softly.  “I’m good as new.”

You chuckle softly, reaching out to good-naturedly swat his arm.

“Just promise me you’ll try not to get stabbed next time,” you plead quietly.

“I promise I’ll do my best.”

[webcricket]

Castiel Imagine

Pairing: CastielXReader

Word Count: 819

* * * * *

“Do you remember this place?” Even more the chivalrous celestial boyfriend than usual, Castiel slides the chair away from the table of the quaint diner, stepping aside so you can sit. Blues flecked with added warmth in the golden hue of the hanging lamps above, they bounce brightly, searching your features for signs, subtle or otherwise, of recognition.

“I do.” You beam; grasping for the nearest hand peeping from his trench coat sleeve, smile stretching impossibly broader until your cheeks ache with joy, you give his palm a squeeze. “How could I forget?” You swear his skin is slick with sweat, but of course that’s not possible - he doesn’t sweat under any circumstances. “We sat at this very same table. And is that-” you pause mid-sentence, tilting your head to better hear the melody radiating from the jukebox, “-that’s our song, too.”

Some of the tension afflicting the angel’s shoulders eases at the sharpness of your recollection. Not that he’s surprised you remember, it’s just that he wants tonight to be perfect and the recreation of your first official date is an integral part of his plan. Returning your affectionate grip, he goes further in fondness; lifting your knuckles to his lips, he presses them each with a soft kiss, murmuring over them, “Yes, we did. And yes, it is.”

The brush of his breath and the feather-lite movement of his mouth forming the words across your captive fingers ignites a tickle in your belly that swiftly glides upward as a chuckle. The blissful sound chimes the air and resounds it’s song straight to the angel’s heart.

Releasing the handhold, he pushes the chair in as you settle. Peering around the otherwise empty diner as he moves to the seat opposite - empty, because he arranged ahead of time for you to have the whole place to yourselves - a twinge of anxiety tightens his throat. As he smooths the side of his coat to sit, he feels for - for the hundredth time today, in fact - the weight, physical and emotional, of the small parcel tucked in his right pocket. Finding it there, safe and sound, same squared shape as the last time he checked, he swallows down the worry.

You notice the brief flicker of panic in the crease of his brow. It’s not unusual for the angel to be troubled over something. It’s also not unusual for him not to talk about whatever is burdening him unless prompted. “You seem quiet,” you note, breadth of your smile lapsing into one of gentle concern. Slipping a hand across the table between you, you lay the palm up and flutter your fingers to implore an embrace.

Meeting your eyes, a flit of alarm delicately pops his lashes a smidgen wider. He quickly covers it with a gravelly throat-clearing cough. He takes the proffered hand, tenderly turns it over in his own and rubs a thumb soothingly over the surface. “Do I?”

“You hardly spoke on the drive over.” And it was a drive - two hours outside of Lebanon to get to this mom and pop dinner stop. As far as you know it’s not a special occasion, just a normal night out. Not that you would trade idle hours spent with the angel for anything else in the world. “Is everything okay?”

It’s just like you to be concerned for him. From anyone else, he has a hard time accepting that concern - after all, his soldierly seraphim coda tells him it’s his place to watch over you, not the other way around. From you, he appreciates the care. The appreciation shows in the spring of a smile adorning his aspect. He’s supremely grateful, actually, that your concern for his well-being appears to be banishing whatever suspicions might arise regarding his motives for this trip which would spoil the surprise.

“Cas?” you prod, watching the gears of thought turn behind his steady gaze.

In his peripheral sight, he sees the server approaching in her tidy mustard yellow dress. She carefully balances on her tray a stack of steaming hot waffles overflowing with whipped cream and fresh fruit that you ordered last time you were here. She stops halfway cross the room and fishes a lighter from her pocket to set the single sparkler jammed in the pile aglow in a white-hot cascade of glitter.

You flinch at the sudden sputtering uproar of sparks and spin to see what the ruckus is about.

Cas steals the moment of distraction to retrieve the ring box from his pocket. He places the velveteen cased symbol of his enduring devotion, hinge yawning to reveal a solitary diamond, breathtaking not in size, but in its simplicity and seemingly pulsing supernatural inner glow, in front of you to find when you twist back.

Focus fixed on the undulant dance of your lips in amusement over the antic display, he reassures both himself and you that, “Everything is perfect.”

* * * * *

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[sprinkleofhappinessuniverse]

What A Wonderful World - (Dean Winchester x Reader)

Synopsis: You wake up to find youself with a house, kid and your spouse is...Dean? Of course everything is not what is seems. 

Pairing: Dean x Reader 

Warnings: Swearing, Angst, fluff, Canon-Typical Violence, Small Mentions of Violence, My not-so-good writing

Word Count: 3,921

A/N: Okay, so I was talking to @poe-also-bucky last week and she gave me the idea for this Fic and encouraged me to write more Dean so shoutout to her 💙💙💙

As you opened your eyes a bout of dizziness fell upon you. You clenched your eyes shut again and put a hand on your head as you tried to remember the events of the last few moments and regain your consciousness.

You reopened your eyes and was surprised to find yourself lying on a double bed in what appeared to be a...bedroom. Opposite you The Wizard Of Oz was playing on a TV and a vanity table stood in the corner, with an ordinary bedside table to the left of you.

"What the hell?" You thought to yourself. You could have sworn you were on a hunt with Dean not that long ago, though the details of what you were hunting and what town you were even in were hazy. You noticed your clothing was different too. Definitely not the typical attire you wore when hunting. No, the outfit you were donning now was too casual - loungewear. Clothing, ordinary people with an ordinary life wore and you were no ordinary person.

You shifted your body and your leg hit a lump.You let out a startled gasp when it started wriggling. Next to you, you noticed the wriggling lump took form in a 6 year old boy who was peacefully sucking his thumb and humming along to Somewhere Over The Rainbow.  

A sweet aroma wafted in the room, causing your stomach to grumble. The sound of someone scrambling through cupboards let you know that yourself and the boy weren't the only occupants in the house. You moved some more and the boy sat up looking straight at you.

"You're awake!" The boy exclaimed excitedly. "Daddy's making you breakfast, though I'm not s'posed to tell you."

"Your daddy? And he's in the kitchen right now?" You asked. You didn't even know who this boy was or why he was talking so comfortably to you. He nodded. Well, he seemed to have a parent around at least.  

After a few moments of dazed silence he leant against your arm still sucking his thumb.

"I love you mommy." He mumbled.

"What? No, no, no. I'm not your mommy!" You exclaimed.

"You're funny! That's why you and daddy are always laughing in the morning!" He giggled. You couldn't help but smile a little however you were more than confused. This kid thought you were his mom!

You caught a glance at the two of you in the vanity table mirror and that’s when you saw the resemblance. He had your facial shape, eyes and cheeks. He was very much your son. That begged the question: Who was his father? The curvature of his mouth and the way he was humming struck you as familiar, alongside the freckles that decorated his face.

Unsure on what else to to do you stroked his hair gently and he nuzzled closer into to you. A knock at the door broke you away from your thoughts.

You were sure you almost had a heart attack once you saw who was standing at the door. Holding a tray with food on it, dressed in a blue plaid shirt on top of a black t shirt was Dean.

No way, you thought to yourself. Small slithers of your memory was making its way back to you. A kiss. You and Dean had kissed which caused you to both freak out. You could vaguely remember, an argument between the two of you while you were out solving a case and then you left him. Your brain left a foggy blank after that. At least that's what you thought had happened. Dean standing there looking at you like you were god’s gift and the kid nuzzling into you suggested otherwise.

"Dean? Wha-I...you're his dad?" Was all you were able to stumble out. This went way past confusing.

"Unless we're having a Jerry Springer moment, and you shacked up with some other guy, I'm pretty sure I'm his dad, yeah ." He chuckled. "Anyway, I made you breakfast."

"Uh, yeah, he told me." You said nudging the boy, no, your son. It dawned on you that you didn't even know what his name was.

"Theo buddy, we gotta work on your secret keeping skills. You think batman, got as far as he did by telling everyone he was really Bruce Wayne?" Dean playfully chided. Theo, hung his head. Dean turned to you. "It was supposed to be a surprise."

"Sorry daddy. I didn't mean to ruin the surprise." Theo murmured.

"S'okay kiddo." Dean said watching Theo wriggle onto your lap before taking a seat next to you and planting a kiss on your cheek. You turned your focus to the tray that sat in front of you and your stomach grumbled excitedly at the stack of pancakes and bacon that sat on the plate.

"So..." You began, breaking a piece of pancake with your fork, "We're a family, huh."

"Yep. One small, weird but happy family." Dean said smiling at you. You smiled back, shoving a forkful of pancake in your mouth.

"So, um, what about Sam?"

"What about Sam?"

"Like where is he? Isn't he usually with us?" You asked.

"He's in California. He's a hot shot College kid, remember? You were on Skype with him for like three hours yesterday. It's like the two of you were married." Dean leaned over and picked up a piece of bacon with Theo digging into the pancakes.

"Woah," you muttered to yourself. "So we don't go hunting together?"

"I've never been hunting in my life." Dean was now giving you a strange look.

"So what about Cas?"

"Who the hell is Cas?"

"You know, Cas as in Castiel!"

"Castiel? Like the main character of your book?"

"I have a book?" You weren't sure what the hell was going on but it was trippy.

"You've only been talking about it, non-stop, for the last seven years."

"I have?"

"Yeah and it's been your lifelong dream and you're working on a sequel."

"I am?"

"Honey, are you okay? Did you take something? Do the pancakes taste weird at all?" Dean said in a hushed voice. You shook your head. "Okay, good. Your parents will be here soon."

"They are?" As far as you knew your mother was MIA and your father was dead.

"Don't you remember? They're gonna have Theo for the night."

"Yeah I can't wait to see grams and pops!" Theo piped up suddenly, syrup smeared on his cheeks from where he shared your pancakes. "Uncle Sam said it was so you and daddy could have some grownup time with lots of kissing." He scrunched up his tiny face in disgust. You couldn't help but let out laugh.

"And daddy's gonna kick Uncle Sam's ass." Dean muttered. "I think we should get you cleaned up buddy."

Dean got off the bed with Theo clambering behind. He went to take Theo's hand but grimaced slightly once he saw the sticky syrup over his hands. They left the bedroom, leaving you to contemplate your surroundings. You grabbed the breakfast tray and got off the bed. You decided you'd take the tray to the kitchen and check out your so called house and try and make sense of this life, you had no idea you lead.

On your way out of the room you noticed a novel sitting on the bedside table. The title read The Angel Of Thursday by (Y/F/N) (Y/L/N). So you were an author, Dean was your spouse and you had a kid? Although, you were confused as hell, you couldn't deny that it sounded like a pretty sweet life.

Leaving the book on the table, you walked out of the room and began to make your way downstairs to the kitchen, smiling at the sounds of Dean and Theo joking about in the bathroom.

The kitchen looked pretty standard. A couple of drawings and appointment notes. You walked into the living room and your eyes fell upon the mantelpiece where a number of photographs sat. There were a couple of photos of you and Dean, his arms wrapped around you in one, him kissing your cheek and another showing the two of you smiling brightly. There were a few more featuring Theo. One from when Theo was first born and a couple of more recent ones, including a photograph depicting a smiley Theo, front teeth missing dressed in football  gear. You couldn't stop the smile that formed on your face. You really were one happy family.

You scanned the rest of the photos and a lump formed in your throat. There was a photograph of you and your dad, only it seemed to be a recent photograph. You looked not much younger than you were now. That was impossible, your father died when you were eight. Next to it was another photograph, this one of Dean and Mary. Again a recent photograph and again should have been impossible.

The sound of the doorbell made you jump back into reality. You put the photographs back on the mantlepiece before walking to the front door. Upon opening the door, you felt your breath hitch a little. Standing before you were your parents.

Despite Dean telling you they were coming and you seeing the photographs that must have been taken recently, you couldn't help but be surprised and it must have shown on your face because they both raised their eyebrows at you.

"Are you okay sweetheart?" Your father spoke first. Afraid you'd start crying you went in for a hug.

"I'm fine. In fact I’m great Dad. I just can't believe that...well you're actually...alive."  You mumbled whilst squeezing his neck.  

"Hey! I may be old but I'm not that old." He chuckled. You let go of him and hugged your mom.

"You've never been this happy to see us. You never hug us. Are you feeling alright?" Your mom said, awkwardly hugging you back. You mumbled something back but it was incomprehensible, even to you, due to the overwhelming amount of emotions bubbling up.

"Grams! Pops!" Theo's voice rang out.  You felt an arm wrap around your middle and you turned to see Dean holding Theo in his arms. Your parents beamed at their grandson and Theo wriggled out of Dean’s grasp and ran into the loving embrace of your mom.

“How’s my favourite troublemaker?” Your mom said to Theo.

“It’s good to see you again Dean.” Your dad said.

“It’s good to see you as well.” Dean replied politely. Both your parents smiled lovingly at Dean - you had always known they would like him.

Across the road a young man caught your eye. His complexion was deathly pale and he was staring at you with a hollowed expression. You felt a tugging feeling at your stomach - a kind of familiarity - and you could have sworn you saw him mouth the words ‘Help Me’.

“Babe?” Dean’s voice broke you out of your trance. You looked to see both your parents and Dean looking at you with an expression of concern. You looked across the road and the man was gone. Shaking your head your head a little you turned back to your family.

“Let's head inside.”

It felt as though Dean had been searching for the Djinn on every street and back alley. There were no signs of an abandoned warehouse or any large building for that matter. To top it all off, you weren't answering your phone.

"Dammit, Y/N." he huffed after trying your cell for the fourth time. He couldn't stop the small bubble of panic.

He didn't rule out the possibility of you giving him the silent treatment and not returning his calls. It wasn't like when the two of you split up to cover more ground, you left on the best of terms. Angry words were exchanged. You had told him "Screw you." After he said the kiss you had shared a few nights prior was a "mistake”. 

He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. He knew it was no mistake and that more than anything he wanted to be with you. But he was Dean Winchester and if there was one thing Dean Winchester struggled with, was his feelings. 

Despite your heated exchanged he knew you would have at least sent him a text or that you'd have run into each other by now. It felt like he had searched the whole area. He continued down to the end of the street and opposite he spotted a run down house. 

"That's not creepy at all." He muttered to himself as he walked towards it. 

He noticed a gate at the side of the house was open and lead to a backyard that was way to large to be a normal backyard. It stretched out for what seemed to be miles. He inspected the back of the house closer and noticed a grimy window at the bottom just above ground. Crouching down he managed to just about peer in and he saw a vast run down basement that like the backyard seemed to stretch for miles. Squinting he noticed a hazy figure of a boy tied up. He found the Djinn's bat cave. 

He took his phone out of his pocket and tried your number once again. He froze once he heard your ringtone coming from the basement. Shit. 

He ran to the front of the house once he realised the window was too small for him to fit through. He didn't have to much trouble with getting the door open and managed to find the entrance to the basement.  He got out the lamb's blood and silver knife and prepared to gank the Djinn. 

He found you and two other victims tied up and passed out in your fantasy induced coma. He took the liberty of cutting the ropes of the victims first before making his way over to you. 

Before he cold even begin to cut your ropes he felt a strong grip on his arm. The Djinn spun him around, tattoos lighting it up as it placed a hand on his forehead. However, Dean was quick and in one swift movement he stabbed the Djinn right in its heart. 

"Take that, you son of a bitch." He watched as the Djinn was drained of its life and power. 

He heard the stir of movements and could see the other two victims, slowly blinking their way back to reality. He focused his attention on you and broke your ropes but you showed no signs of waking up. Alarmed his quickly dialled Sam's number. 

"Dean, what's up?" Sam said.

 "The Djinn got Y/N." 

"What? How?” 

"I don't know but she's out cold. I managed to find and gank the bastard but she's still not waking up. I don't know what to do Sammy." Dean said unable to hold down the panic in his voice. 

"Okay, okay, calm down we'll figure this out." Sam reassured. Dean rubbed his forehead anxiously as he looked at your limp form. 

"Well we better figure something quick." 

"Okay maybe she's still stuck in her fantasy. Maybe she's still trying to distinguish reality from her fantasy. Remember when you entered Charlie's nightmare?"

 "What and the zombified soldiers? What's that got to do with..." Dean started as the realisation of what Sam was suggesting hit him. 

"African Dream Root." Both boys said in unison.

 "We should have some here. Text me exactly where you are and stay put I'll be there as soon as I can okay?" Sam said. 

"Okay, hurry Sammy." 

You, Dean, Theo and your parents had spent a good couple of hours in the living room chatting happily. While Dean and your mother talked amongst themselves, your dad sat talking about his childhood in the armchair with you on the floor and Theo on your lap eating a sandwich - he definitely got bit yours and Dean’s love for food.

There was something so nice about the current situation and the fact that your dad was alive and talking to you made you happy beyond belief. There was a small part of you that wanted to stay in this life.

After some time you and Dean ended up in the kitchen.

“I can't believe we actually lead this wonderful life.” You said wistfully.

“Yeah, it's pretty great.”

“We have a kid! A kid that we made!”

“Best night of my life.” Dean grinned. You chuckled still half surprised.

“Let's go for a drive.” You said wondering if you still had the impala. Dean raised an eyebrow before shrugging.

“Okay, we’ll grab takeout. Chinese sound good?” You nodded before telling your parents and Theo where you were headed and making your way to the front door.

You smiled when you saw the impala.

“Here she is! Good to see you baby!” You said tapping the Impala’s roof.

“What so are you like Dr Dolittle for cars or something now?” Dean joked, though he was looking at you somewhat strangely.

“Well it is the Impala. Only one of the greatest cars of the last fifty years.”

“Babe, it's just a car.” Dean said. You looked at him as though he grew two heads. Now this was strange. Dean handed you the keys before getting in the passenger’s side.

“Seriously?” You asked. Dean never let you drive the Impala. He only let you once and even then he made some snarky remark about how this wasn't Fast and The Furious and that you need to treat her well, with love. Sure, you found his love for his Car a little weird but now seeing him not love this car at all was so much weirder.

You got in a started up the engine before driving down the street. You drove in peaceful silence while you looked out for a Chinese Takeout shop.

When focused your attention back on the road you saw the apparition of the boy again and this time you were sure you heard him say “Help Me.” You slammed down on the brakes.

“Y/N, What the hell!”Dean shouted.

“The boy! You didn't see him!” You exclaimed, now looking at Dean. You looked back at the road and he was gone. “He was right there and he was asking me to help him!”

“Okay pull over.” Dean said.

“Wha? Why?”

“Just pull over, Y/N.”

You managed to pull over and Dean got out of the car and walked over to yourself.

“Dean what the hell?” You exclaimed.

“You're acting weird. And not normal weird. You're starting to freak me out, I'm driving us both home.”

You were too confused by everything to argue so you obeyed. As he drive the two of you home you bits and pieces of your actual life was starting to come back.

“None of this is real, is it?” You said as the two of you pulled into your driveway and got out.

“What are you talking about? Of course this real!”

“But, we’re hunters. Me, you and Sam.” Memories of your real life was coming back to you. “Not that long ago me and you, we were on a hunt! We had an argument and then...I ended up here?” You were forgetting something but you couldn't quite place it.

“Y/N, look at me.” Dean said grabbing your arm. “You're starting to really freak me out now. All of this is real. You, me, Theo, this house. All very much real.”

You looked at him in disbelief. A knife dipped in lamb’s blood was floating around in your head. You shook your head at him and went in the house headed straight for kitchen ignoring him calling after you. You pulled open the drawers in search for a silver knife, once you found it you opened up the fridge and fortunately for you there was fresh lamb meat wrapped up. You were able to dip the knife in the little blood that was there.

“What the hell are you doing!” Dean exclaimed, running over to you. You noticed that the kitchen had a back door and suddenly it swung open and standing there was...Dean?

Shocked you looked Between The Dean that was standing in front of you and the Dean that was standing in the doorway.

“Y/N, none of this is real. You have to fight this. Or unusual you're gonna die.” Dean standing in the doorway said. You locked eyes and that's when your memories came back to you. You splitting up when hunting the Djinn. The Djinn must've got you. The Djinn.

“Y/N don't listen to him. You don't have to fight this. You can stay here for what will feel like a lifetime. This is what you want isn't it? A normal life, normal family. You can be with your parents. You be with your son. You can be with me. You do want to be with me don't you, Y/N.” “Not-Dean” Dean said.

Even though you knew it wasn't real and just a fantasy you couldn't help the small part of you that wanted this life. So badly. You found yourself nodding and heard the real Dean’s breath hitch. No, you had to fight this.

“You're right I do want to be with you.” You said. “But you're not my Dean.” You pierced the knife through your stomach before everything went black.

You found yourself blinking yourself back into reality and in Dean’s arms in the Djinn’s basement.

“Y/N.” Both Dean and Sam said.

“Sup...losers.” You managed to get out, grinning. You could see the relief on both of their faces.

They helped you up and got you into the Impala. After helping the other two victims they got to the bunker with Sam, leaving you and Dean in your room.

“Thanks for saving me, I owe you.” You said breaking the silence between you.

“What're family for.” Dean muttered back.

“How did you manage to into my dream anyway?” You asked.

“African Dream Root.”

“Well, I'm sorry for the way I acted, y’know before the Djinn Dorothy’d me to Oz.” You said. “But aren't you gonna ask me about it? About why you were there?”

Dean shifted uncomfortably a little before looking toward you.

“I'm not good with the whole...feelings thing.” He bagan. “Truth is, I'm not even sure I've been in love before.”

It was something about the way he said before that gave you some hope.

“What about now Dean?”

“Now...I think I may be in love but to tell you the truth I'm terrified.” Dean said rubbing a hand over his face. You sat up and manoeuvred yourself so you were sitting next to him.

“And you think I'm not? Given our life, I'm terrified. I'm terrified of losing you! But I'm terrified of losing you whether we’re together or not. And quite frankly we’re better together.” You said putting your hand on his arm. “Dean, that fantasy may have just been a fantasy and I know I'd still take hunting with you and Sam over the apple pie life but if there's one thing that's definitely real is that I'm in love with you.”

He looked you and smiled softly. You smiled back and moved closer to him so that your arms were touching.

“Okay we’ll make it work.” He said. You could feel your face light up. “Like you said we’re better together.”

You took his hand into yours and he kissed you on your forehead. There was no place like home.

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