Your blog is amazing!! I've had a hard time sleeping recently so could I possibly get an imagine where the reader (a hunter and Dean's girlfriend) can't sleep so Dean comforts her and helps her get to sleep and it's just hella fluffy! Thank you :)
Anonymous
Thank you! And I hope that your sleeping habits improve!
~~~~~
It was another one of those nights. No matter how much you tossed and turned, you just couldn’t seem to get comfortable. Blanket off, you were too cold. Blanket on, you were too hot. You punched your pillow repeatedly, but it just never seemed to go into the right shape for you. Sighing, you flipped over once more and squeezed your eyes shut, figuring that if sleep didn’t come for you, you were bloody well gonna go after it.
“Geez, what’s happening on your side of the bed?” Dean muttered sleepily from beside you.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” you snapped. “Is my not being able to sleep amusing to you?” Immediately, you felt bad. “Sorry. I’m just really tired. I’ve been trying to sleep for hours now.”
“Maybe I could help you sleep,” he suggested.
“Dean,” you said, a note of warning in your voice.
He brushed you off. “Nothing like that. I mean it. Maybe I could sing to you,” he joked. Groaning, you turned away from him.
“You’re not helping!”
“Hey, come on. I’ll be serious now. Come here.” He looped his arm over your waist, pulling you towards him so that your back was flush with his chest. With the blanket off, you found that his body heat was just the right temperature for you. You leaned into him, feeling his hand reach up to your forehead to stroke your temple lightly. “Is this helping?” he whispered. You nodded, shutting your eyes as you allowed him to soothe you.
Just as you started drifting off to sleep, you noticed that Dean was humming a tune that sounded an awful lot like ‘Some Kind Of Monster’ by Metallica. You smiled and drifted off to sleep like that, with Dean’s arm around you and the notes of Metallica in your ears.
~~~~~
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Aaaahahahhahahahahahahhahsha I requested the Arctic Monkeys imagine and I love love loved it!!!! You should do a part two sometime :)
Anonymous
I’m so glad you enjoyed it! I hope this one is just as good! And just for the record, I loved Do I Wanna Know? so much that I downloaded all of the Arctic Monkeys albums. I’m listening to them right now.
Part One:
~~~~~
It was dark out, and you knew you should be sleeping right now. But no matter how hard you tried, you just couldn’t shut your brain off. Thoughts just kept coming to the surface, demanding you give them attention. And they were stupid thoughts, too. Like how good Sam had looked coming out of the motel bathroom with his hair still wet from his shower. Like how he’d smiled at you as he said good night. Like how he was lying in the bed across from you, sleeping, if his deep breathing was anything to go by.
Like how you were in love with him.
The thought shocked you, and it took a minute for you to put your finger on why. But then you realised - it was the first time you’d ever acknowledged that the feelings you had for him were more than a crush. Sighing, you tossed again, trying to get comfortable enough to sleep. If you hadn’t been such an idiot, you would’ve realised this ages ago, when he was actually into you. But instead, you’d turned him down, and now had to face the consequences of your mistake.
“Can’t sleep?” a voice whispered out of the darkness.
“I’m fine, Sam. Go back to sleep,” you whispered back. But of course, he would never listen if he thought something might be wrong. So he flipped on the lamp on his bedside table, lifting himself onto one elbow so that he could see you properly.
“What’s up? And don’t tell me it’s nothing. You’ve been acting differently for days.” Was it really that obvious?
“I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.” You closed your eyes and rolled over, hoping that if you made it look like you were sleeping, he’d leave you alone. But the ’S’ in Sam might as well have stood for Stubborn, because the next thing you knew, there was a creaking of springs, and you felt the bed sink beside you.
Sam nudged your shoulder gently, turning you back to look at him. “Really. What is it?” You stared up into his hazel eyes in the dim light the lamp provided, and did something both reckless and impulsive. And frankly, something quite stupid.
You kissed him.
As your lips came in contact with his, your fingers curled up in his hair, and you pulled him closer to you. And that was when you realised you were finally getting the answer to the question you were too scared to ask. Because against all odds, Sam Winchester was kissing you back.
“That’s what it is,” you murmured as you finally pulled away, your breath dancing with Sam’s in the space between your lips. “I am crazy for you. I just thought I’d missed my chance.”
“Why in the world would you think that?” Sam laughed, staring at you in amazement.
“Because-because you never said anything about it after I turned you down. I thought you’d moved on.”
“Y/N,” Sam said seriously. “My heart will always be open for you.”
~~~~~
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Great blog! Could you write an imagine where the reader has a crazy/cruel father and Dean and Sam confront him and then rescue the reader and she travels with them? Thanks!
Anonymous
Hey. I hope this is what you were looking for.
TRIGGER WARNING: Abusive father, a fair amount of swearing directed at the reader.
~~~~~
“Y/N! Get the fuck in here!” your dad boomed from the lounge room, where you could hear a game of football blaring through the television speakers. Scurrying into the room, you took in the pizza boxes and empty beer bottles scattered across the floor, before your eyes finally came to rest at the foot of the lounge where your father sat.
“Yes, Dad? What do you need?”
“Get me another beer,” he demanded. “And when you’re done, clean up this room. I can’t believe you let it get so filthy.” You did as he asked, grabbing another beer from the fridge and a garbage bag from one of the kitchen cupboards.
“Here you go,” you told your dad, plastering a fake smile on your face as you handed him the new beer.
“Shut up. I can’t hear the game,” he grunted, not even glancing in your direction as he snatched the bottle from your hand. You ducked your head in shame, internally scolding yourself for not having the better sense to not interrupt him during a match.
Lowering yourself to the floor, you started picking up the rubbish. Within minutes, the bag was bulging, and you couldn’t believe the room had gotten so messy after only a few days. But as you picked up the trash from the floor, you noticed stains on the carpet from the grease of the pizzas and the dregs of the various beers, which you knew you’d have to clean.
Sighing, you tied up the bag and headed out of the room, intending to grab some soap and sponges to clean the floor with. But just as you were dumping the rubbish bag by the front door to take out to the bins later, you heard a knock. Glancing quickly in the direction of the lounge room, you decided not to disturb your father during the game, so you answered the door yourself.
“Good afternoon,” a handsome man greeted you. He and his companion appeared to be only a few years older than you, and they didn’t seem to be carrying any boxes, so you wondered why they were on your doorstep, if not to sell anything. “I’m Agent Bon, this is my partner, Agent Scott. We were wondering if you knew anything about the murder that happened a few doors down.”
Your eyes darted back and forth between the two of them, taking in the badges they held up and their formal attire. “I-I don’t really get out much,” you started. “I’m probably not the best person you should be talking to. You should probably just leave.” You started to close the door, wanting to be rid of these two men. They had to leave before they saw inside, before they started asking questions. Your dad would flip out if he knew federal agents were in the area. And of course, you knew who he’d blame for it.
“What are you hiding from us?” the taller man asked, reaching out to stop you from shutting the door completely. There was only a small gap left to see through now, and through it you could barely just make out both of their features.
“Please, I don’t know anything!” you pleaded, feeling a sob rise up in your chest. “Just leave me alone!” The two men exchanged a glance, and were about to question you further when a scream from the lounge room cut them off.
“WHAT THE FUCK IS TAKING YOU SO LONG, YOU LITTLE BITCH? I asked you to do one simple thing! Is that too much to ask?” You flinched, both at the loud volume and the harsh nature of his words.
“Who is that?” the first man asked, pushing the door open a little further to get a look inside.
“N-no one!” you insisted, fighting against him as he pushed the door all the way open and stepped into your house alongside his companion.
“Is that your father?” the taller man asked in horror and disbelief. You didn’t answer, but your face must’ve said it all, because they both stormed into the room where your father was, turning off the TV and demanding his attention.
“What the fuck are you two doing in my house?” He demanded, half rising out of his chair. When he caught sight of you edging timidly into the room, he turned on you. “Did you let them in here, Y/N? Because if you did, I swear -”
“Actually,” the first man interrupted. “We let ourselves in.” Your father went silent as the men flashed their badges, both of them staring at him stonily. “How do you live with yourself?” he continued. “Your daughter is not a slave, nor is she an outlet for your anger. She is a good person, and you should be treating her with respect!’
You backed out of the room, not wanting to have the attention focussed on you. No one had ever spoken about you like that before, and you didn’t know how you should react to it.
"How dare you speak to me in such ways in my own house!” your father exclaimed from the other side of the wall. “I’ll have you know -” His voice cut off suddenly, and as you peeked round the edge of the doorframe to see why, you saw that the FBI agents had positioned themselves to show off the bulge of their guns.
“If you don’t mind,” the taller one said pleasantly, “we’ll just be going now.” And like that, it was over. Well, for them anyway. Your father would never forgive you for this. Once the men had left, there’d be no stopping him.
“Okay, moment of truth.” Startled, you glanced up, finding the two men standing close to you, keeping their voices low so as to not be heard. “Do you want to come with us? We can get you away from this, help you live a better life.”
“Wh-what?” Why on earth were FBI agents asking you this? “But you guys are the FBI! Besides, I-I don’t even know you,” you said shakily.
“Well, truthfully, we aren’t actually FBI agents. But we are investigating the murders in the area. We’re here to help.”
“That’s right,” the other man continued. “I’m Dean Winchester, and this is my brother Sam. And if you want, we can take you somewhere safe, somewhere you won’t have to put up with all this crap.” You were stuck, with no clue as to what to do. As much as you wanted to leave, how could you be sure that they could be trusted?
“But my dad…” Your fear of him was too strong, and you knew that you couldn’t go if there was any chance he might follow. But then again, it couldn’t be much worse than what you’d have to deal with when these guys left, could it?
“We’ll sort him out,” Dean assured you. “Don’t you worry about that. We’ll take care of everything. So what do you say?” His green eyes held yours, steady and reassuring. And even though you’d never met him before, there was something in the determined stares of him and his brother that said they’d never let you down.
Brushing a few stray tears from your cheeks, you nodded, swallowing and trying to match their own determined expressions. “Let me just grab my stuff.”
~~~~~
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hi can i get a dean imagine where your in a car accident after a fight with dean about a hunt and he feels awful about it and fluff? thanks doll :)
Anonymous
Hey. I hope you like it!
~~~~~
“What the hell was that, Dean?” you fumed, storming into the bunker. You whipped around, folding your arms across your chest and fixing him with a furious expression.
“Oh, you’re one to talk,” he retorted. “What were you thinking? When we have a plan, we stick to it. If I hadn’t saved you -” You snorted, your expression turning to one of utter disbelief.
“Saved me? Is that what they’re calling it these days?” Glaring at him, you took a step closer and drew yourself up to your full height. Through gritted teeth, you said, “Dean, you have a hero complex. And you know what? I was perfectly capable of handling myself until you showed up. The reason that hunt nearly got us both killed was you. Not me.”
Dean reeled back as though he’d been slapped, and you took his brief silence as a moment to exit the bunker, making sure to slam the door behind you. Getting behind the wheel of your car, you pulled away from the bunker. Away from Dean. But the further you drove, the more your anger left you, and in its place the guilt set in. You knew Dean had only been doing what he’d thought was right. You had no right to treat him like that. He’d only been trying to help you.
Making your decision, you made a U-turn, knowing that the back roads were generally pretty quiet, so no one would get in your way. But in all the time that you’d been thinking, you hadn’t even noticed the car that had turned onto the road behind you. You sped off towards Dean, only registering the other vehicle just before the moment of collision. There was the squeal of brakes, and a large smash, and then you blacked out, feeling shards of glass from the windscreen cut you as the airbag slammed into your chest.
—-
When you woke up, you had the strangest sensation that something was tugging against your arm. For a moment, you panicked, and strained to free yourself from its grip. But as consciousness set in properly, you realised that it was an IV, not an attacker. You slumped back against the pillows, realising that you must be in the hospital.
But then something did grab your arm and you froze, turning to look at whoever it was who had you in their clutches. “Dean…” you breathed, relaxing once more as you took in the sight of him. Who else would it have been?
“Y/N, thank God you’re alright,” he answered, giving your hand a tight squeeze. “They told me you’d be okay, but I didn’t want to believe it until I saw you for myself.”
“I’m fine,” you answered, remembering why you’d gone on that drive which had resulted in the accident in the first place. Dean was evidently remembering it too, as you noticed that the guilt had carved itself across his features.
“Y/N, I’m so sorry. If I hadn’t been fighting with you -”
“Dean,” you interrupted. “It wasn’t your fault. You were only trying to help me, and I was a bitch about it. In fact, just before I crashed, I was turning around to come see you. I didn’t mean any of it - the things I said were horrible. And none of them were true, you have to know that.” You paused, taking a moment before you said the most important thing you had to say. “Dean, I’m so sorry. Can you forgive me?”
“Y/N, I’m just glad you’re alive. Of course I forgive you,” Dean told you, moving the strands of hair off your forehead so that he could stroke your temple. You smiled at him, loving how he could be so tender and gentle around you even after the things you’d said to him.
“You’re too good for me, Dean Winchester,” you murmured, leaning into the hand that was now cupping your cheek.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Y/N. There’s nothing special about me,” he answered, giving you a sad smile.
“Dean,” you said seriously, looking him dead in the eye, “there’s everything special about you.”
~~~~~
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Hey could you do an imagine where the reader is dean or SAMs daughter that came back in time and they find out after they go on a Hunt and she gets injured? Thanks! Xx
Anonymous
Hi! I hope you like it.
~~~~~
You tugged on your boots, sliding a knife down the side of one of them as a back up. After all, you could never be too prepared when going to take down a nest of vampires. Looking around at the motel room you were staying in, you couldn’t help but think about how strange everything was in the past. And for you, that’s what this was. You’d gotten caught in the crossfire of a battle between angels and demons, and somehow, you’d ended up back in time.
At first, people had looked at you strangely, eyeing the way you dressed and the few possessions you had with you when you were sent back. But soon enough, you had learned to blend in, and had set off to find the two people you were able to locate and who you happened to trust - Uncle Sam and Dad.
Three weeks ago, you had found them and had worked at gaining their trust. You would’ve told them straight up who you were, but you knew that if you did, they’d never believe you. “Y/N, you ready?” your dad called from outside your door.
“I’m here,” you answered, striding out of the room. “Let’s gank those sons of bitches.”
—-
The nest the vamps had made for themselves was dark and gloomy, which you supposed was probably considered light and airy by a vampire’s standards. It was an old barn, set out some distance from the rest of the town. The structure was falling apart, with sections of the wood splintering away, but they had nailed boards over the gaps and windows to block out the sunlight.
Your dad explained your plan of attack, and the three of you took up your positions, charging into the nest on Uncle Sam’s signal. The vampires seemed freshly turned, a theory supported by their sloppy killing of the victims. Even though they were strong, they didn’t know how to fight, which made it easy to kill them. Within minutes, their bodies were strewn about the ground, the heads scattered beside them.
In your triumph, it became easy to forget that for the vampires to become freshly turned, there had to have been an older vampire who turned them in the first place. The reminder came in rather a harsh way. The vampire slunk out of the shadows, lunging at you and knocking you to the ground. Its weight sent you skidding across the dirt floor, before finally slamming into the barn wall.
As you cried out in pain, the vampire’s fangs extended, inching towards your neck. You thought for sure that it would bite you, but just as you felt the sharp teeth brush against the tender skin of your neck, Uncle Sam wrenched it off you, cutting its head off with a clean slice.
Your dad rushed over to you, moving your head into his lap. “Y/N, are you okay?”
“Daddy, it hurts,” you whimpered, wincing in pain. Of course, that was not the best way to reveal who you were to them. But you couldn’t help it. All you could make out through your foggy vision were his eyes, those green eyes that had rocked you to sleep as a baby, that had comforted you when you came home from a bad day at school. In that moment, you’d forgotten he was supposed to be a Dean, a fellow hunter. He was just your dad.
“What?” he demanded, drawing back from you slightly. You saw him and Sam exchange a confused glance, and you noticed Sam’s hand inching towards his waistband.
“I-I didn’t want to tell you this way, but I’m your daughter.”
“I don’t have a kid!” your dad argued, his mouth set in a stubborn line. Uncle Sam glanced at him thoughtfully, and you could tell he was wondering whether your dad had gotten some poor girl pregnant after a one night stand.
“Well, not yet you don’t.” You proceeded to tell them all about the battle that had taken place, and your role in it. How you’d been sent back in time and had to adapt to this new life. You told them about how you’d tried to find them, knowing that they would help you, about how you’d pretended to be a stranger so that you could gain their trust.
Finally, when you’d finished telling them the story, Uncle Sam looked at you and said, “How do we know you aren’t lying to us?” So you went on to talk about stories they’d told you, things from their childhood and personal lives. All the things that no one else would know.
“Well I’ll be damned,” Dad murmured when you’d finally finished explaining. “I thought there was something about you that seemed familiar, but I never thought you’d be my kid! Sammy, I get to have a family!”
He was beaming, and you could see that Uncle Sam was happy for him. “I know, Dean. I’ve been here the whole time.” Seeing their reactions, you thought everything would be okay, but then you felt your dad freeze, and you tilted your head back to try to get a look at him. There was a slight look of horror on his face, mingled with self-loathing.
“Hang on,” he began. “If you’re my kid, why the hell are you a hunter? How could I do that to you?” His voice was shaking with anger, but you knew it wasn’t directed at you - it was directed at himself. Well, himself of the future, anyway.
“It wasn’t your fault,” you murmured. “I wanted this for myself.”
“No one wants to be a hunter!” Dad yelled, causing you to flinch in shock. He noticed this and brought the volume of his voice back down for the next thing he said. “And even if you did, what kind of father am I that I let you become one?”
“One that loves and trusts his daughter, and who knows she can handle herself,” you told him. “Dad, I am a hunter because I want to help people. You know why? Because I wanted to be a hero like my dad and my Uncle Sam. I love you both so much. And if you can foresee a future in which you love me too, then please, please don’t try to change things so that I don’t become a hunter. This is the life I want for myself. Don’t take that from me.”
Your dad was silent for a moment, taking time to process everything you had just said. Uncle Sam was silent too, and you could tell he was taking the backseat to give his brother time to come to terms with this. “Alright,” your dad said at last. “Alright. I won’t try to change things, and Sam and I will try to get you back where you belong. But for now, let’s get this banged up head fixed up, okay?”
~~~~~
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What is y/n? I'm new in reading fanfict :)
Anonymous
Hey! Basically, Y/N is short for Your Name. The idea of the kind of fanfiction I write is that it’s reader insert, so that you are a character in the story. I hope this helps!
Okey first of all your blog is awesome! Could you write a a Dean imagine where you dance on "Island in the sun" by Weezer?
Anonymous
Thank you so much! Actually, I listened to this song for the first time when I wrote this, and it’s actually pretty catchy. Also, I haven’t really written something like this before, so I hope it’s alright.
~~~~~
You sighed, slamming the lore book shut and watching as a cloud of dust rose up from the pages. You and Dean had been researching for hours, and you still had nothing. But now, the words had blurred into one another and you were seeing the passages without taking anything in. If you were going to have any chance of finding anything out about this creature, you were going to have to take a break.
Standing up, you headed to the radio in the corner of the room, tuning in to your favourite station. As “Island in the Sun” by Weezer came on, you smiled, and an idea popped into your head. “Come on,” you said to Dean, pulling him up from his chair.
“What are you doing?” he asked, staring at you in confusion. “We have research to do -”
“Shhh,” you interrupted, placing a finger over his lips. “Just go with it.” You pulled him into the centre of the room and started swaying in time with the music. Soon enough, he picked up on what you were doing and placed his hands on your waist, leaving you to wrap your arms around his neck.
For once, you were able to do something carefree, something that didn’t involve danger, where there was no pressure to succeed. It was just you and Dean, dancing around the room with stupid grins on your faces. And by the time the final chorus came on, you both sang along.
“On an island in the sun
We’ll be playing and having fun
And it makes me feel so fine
I can’t control my brain.”
You both laughed, pulling away from one another as the final notes of the song died out and the radio switched to a different track. Dean mockingly bowed, as if the two of you were at an old fashioned dance. You grinned, curtsying back. “Who knows?” you joked. “Maybe this will be our song!”
Dean smiled softly at you, gazing at you with a tender expression. “Who knows?”
~~~~~
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Hello! Can you write a one-shot where the reader is hunting with Sam, Dean and Adam? And she has to share a room and a bed with Adam because there aren't any empty rooms in the motel? And can you make it really fluffy?
Anonymous
Hi. I hope the fluff is to your satisfaction! Admittedly, there’s not a lot, but I tried.
~~~~~
The carpet in the reception area of the motel was thin, and there was a distinct path worn from the door to the counter. As you, Dean, Adam and Sam lugged your bags to the woman working behind the desk, you couldn’t help but glance at the dingy lighting and the shabby furnishings and wish that there had been another motel nearby that you could stay in. But the next one was roughly an hour away, and the four of you were exhausted, so this would have to make do.
“Can we get 3 rooms, please?” Dean asked the woman behind the desk, greeting her with a polite smile. She glanced down at her book, a troubled look on her face.
“I’m sorry,” she said, “but we only have two rooms left. For some reason, were just booked out this weekend. I’m really sorry.” She glanced at your little party sympathetically, but it didn’t do much to change the fact that this could cause a serious problem for you. Sam and Dean usually shared a room, given the fact that they’d done so for years, but you and Adam usually had one each, to allow you both to have some privacy.
You bit your lip, growing slightly uncomfortable at the prospect of having to share a room. It wasn’t that you didn’t like or trust the guys, but you just didn’t know if any of them would want to share with you.
Adam was the one to break the silence that had descended in the lobby. “Maybe…I could sleep with Y/N?” he suggested. Then, when he realised what he’d said, he turned beet red. “Um, that is, share a room with her.”
“Um, yeah, sure. I’m cool with that,” you agreed, blushing profusely. Sam glanced between the two of you for a moment, before turning back to the desk and saying, “I guess we’ll take them, then.”
The woman smiled, before handing over the room keys and explaining where the rooms were located. The four of you thanked her and left, with Sam and Dean turning off a few doors before the one where you and Adam would be staying. Adam unlocked the door and stepped in the room, with you not far behind. But before you even got to see in, you slammed into his back.
“Ow!” you exclaimed, rubbing your nose resentfully. “What was that - oh.” You had finally moved into a position where you could see the room, and you now knew why Adam had stopped dead. There was only one bed. The lady definitely hadn’t mentioned that when you’d made the reservation.
“Y/N, I had no idea,” he said apologetically, as you silently shut the door, still reeling over this new bit of information. “Look, I’ll sleep on the couch. You take the bed.” Glancing across the room, you saw a little armchair in the corner, the fabric worn and fraying.
“No,” you decided. “I’m not letting you sleep in that thing. You won’t be able to move in the morning. You can share the bed with me.”
“Are you sure -” You quelled him with a sharp look, before grabbing your pyjamas out of your duffel bag and heading to the bathroom to change. When you came back out, Adam switched with you, leaving you to flop down on the bed. After a minute, you determined that nothing good was on TV, so you switched it off again and closed your eyes.
Moments later, you heard the bathroom door creak open, and you opened your eyes to see Adam heading back towards you. “You shape up nicely, Milligan,” you observed.
“You’re not so bad yourself.” He switched off the main light in the room, before pulling back the covers and sliding into bed beside you. The darkness was complete, and you could barely make out Adam’s form as you settled into bed.
“Shit! Sorry!” you apologised as you rolled into him. For a moment, you were worried about how he would react. But then you noticed that he was shaking beside you and you realised he was laughing. When the momentary tension gone, you laughed too, pulling the covers up over your shoulder.
As you starting slipping into sleep, you felt a weight settle on your waist - Adam had draped his arm across you. You froze for a minute and he withdrew it slightly, asking, “Is this…okay?”
“Yeah,” you murmured, shifting towards him. “You just surprised me, that’s all.” He put his arm back around you, pulling you closer to him. You lay like that for several minutes, feeling his rhythmic breathing calm you and lull you to sleep.
Then, just as you felt yourself finally drifting off, he whispered, “Sweet dreams, Y/N.” You smiled, and fell asleep with a warm and fuzzy feeling growing inside you.
~~~~~
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Could you write an imagine where the reader surprises Dean by baking all of his favorite pies at once because you see how drained he is and it's just super fluffy?
Anonymous
Hi. I hope you like it!
~~~~~
The sound of the Impala’s engine faded into the distance, leaving the bunker in silence. You knew that Sam was reading up on some lore, but you didn’t want to distract him. So you were left to your own devices until Dean got back tomorrow. He’d left to go interview some witnesses, to try and shed some light on the monster they were hunting.
As you’d said goodbye to him, you couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. He’d been working so hard the past few weeks, and the strain was starting to show. His eyes were lined with bags and he walked as though a large weight was on his shoulders, forcing him to slump and drag himself along. You also knew that he’d been having trouble sleeping lately, which couldn’t have been helping.
You bit your lip, frowning slightly as you thought. You had nothing else to do today, so maybe you could do something for Dean, a nice surprise to take his mind off hunting for the time. Smiling, you headed into the kitchen and grabbed an apron, hoping that you had all the ingredients you would need.
—-
The next day, as you heard the Impala pulling back into the bunker’s garage, you darted out of the kitchen, a huge smile on your face. You had been in a baking frenzy all night, and couldn’t wait to show Dean what you had prepared for him. Sam had even come in at one point and - after you’d explained what you were doing to him - helped for a little while.
“Dean!” you squealed, throwing your arms around him as he came through the door.
“Hey, Y/N,” he laughed wearily, hugging you back. “I take it you missed me?”
“Yep.” You grabbed his hand, tugging him in the direction of the kitchen.
“Hey, I’m drained right now. Do you think we could do this later?” You glanced back at him, taking in his exhaustion. It wouldn’t hurt to wait, you supposed… “Hang on,” Dean added. “Do I smell pie?” You grinned, knowing that there was no way he’d want to go to sleep now.
“Maybe,” you sang, going ahead of him into the kitchen. “Although it rather use it as a plural.” As Dean saw the table, his jaw dropped. Laid out before him were several fresh pies, the most recent one still steaming. “Just a little something I did to surprise you,” you told him. “There’s apple pie, pecan pie and cherry pie.”
“I love you!” Dean exclaimed, swinging you around in his arms. You laughed, begging him to put you back down again. When he did, you looked up at him and saw that through the exhaustion, he was genuinely happy to see what you’d done for him.
“I just thought you could do with a little something to cheer you up,” you said. “I know the last few weeks have been tough on you…” Dean smiled, and it was clearly genuine, despite the tiredness he obviously felt.
“Y/N? You’re awesome,” he uttered.
~~~~~
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~~~~~
Clutching the rim of the toilet seat, you felt the contents of your stomach empty yet again. You leaned back, your nose wrinkling at the smell of vomit. You flushed the toilet, flipping the lid down to rest your head against it. The porcelain was cool against your cheek, and it was a welcome relief from the constant nausea you felt.
The stale taste in your mouth was a familiar one, as you had spent the mornings of the past week in this bathroom, heaving up the contents of your stomach. You knew that you should tell Dean about it, but you didn’t know how to. You had no clue as to how he’d react. Would he even want a baby? So you had decided to keep your vomit sessions secret, until you worked out the best way to tell him.
Just as you were getting up to wash your mouth out, you heard the door open behind you. Turning around, you found Dean framed in the doorway. “You alright?” he asked, coming over to rub your back gently as you gave your teeth a brush.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” you lied, having spat out the toothpaste and water. “Must’ve just been something I ate.” You were avoiding his eyes, and Dean knew it. He took hold of your chin, turning your face to look at him.
“Just like yesterday morning?” he asked. “And the morning before? And the morning before that?” You squirmed out of his grip, trying not to look guilty. He was eyeing you closely, and you knew that he knew you were hiding something. He knew you better than anyone else, and you had been stupid to think you could hide this from him.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Another lie, and is one came out tasting worse than the vomit. Maybe now was the time to tell him, just get it over with. Like ripping off a bandaid.
“Don’t lie to me,” he said quietly. “I know that you’ve been sick the past few mornings, but I didn’t say anything because you didn’t. But it’s gone on for too long, and I want to know what’s wrong.”
You took a deep breath, taking a quick glance up at his eyes. Those green eyes held so much love for you, trusted you so deeply. You could do this. You could tell Dean. He loved you, and he’d love the baby. He would.
“Last week,” you began, “when you and Sam were on a hunt, I went to the doctor because I wasn’t feeling so well. And…Dean, I’m pregnant.” You held your breath, waiting to see his reaction. He was still for a moment, and you worried that it was too soon, that he would freak out. But then his face split into a huge grin, and he wrapped you in his arms.
“We’re having a baby?” he exclaimed. He pulled away from you, running his gaze down your figure before letting his eyes rest on your stomach, where your baby was. There was so much wonder in his expression, and you wished you had told him earlier. He was filled with a joy that you’d never seen in him before.
“Yes, Dean,” you laughed, delighted by his reaction. “I just didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t know how you’d react.” He reluctantly dragged his gaze away from your stomach so that he could meet your eyes. He must’ve sensed that you’d harboured some uncertainty about the situation, because he murmured, “Y/N Y/L/N, you make me the happiest man on Earth.”
~~~~~
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