Supernatural Imagines

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Posts tagged with "Dean Winchester one shots"

Nov 5

Hey I love all your imagines they are awesome! I was wondering if you could do one where you came back from a hunt (and dean has the mark of Cain still on his arm)and dean blames you for doing something wrong even though it was something small and he hurts you really bad and after he feels sorry and tries to make it up to you thank you!!

Wow. I can’t believe it’s been two years since I last posted on here. My final years of high school were just so intense. But as of two days ago, I have officially finished my HSC (final exams). So I’m free! And I can finally get back into writing again.

I hope this is what you’re after, and please forgive me if the quality isn’t the same. I’m very out of practise.

Thanks @alexamer1234-blog for the request.

~~~~~~

Dean slammed the driver’s side door of the Impala, stalking off out of the garage and into the Bunker itself, not even waiting for you as you climbed out of the passenger’s side and hobbled after him, wincing every time you placed weight on your right leg. Looking through the vamp’s nest, your foot had slipped through a loose floorboard, most likely spraining your ankle.

“Dean, could you please just stop for a minute and talk to me?” you panted, the exertion from trying to hurry with an injury taking its toll on you. He was standing at the table when you finally caught up to him, cleaning off his blades, and he whipped around at the sound of your voice.

The look on his face forced you back a step, a dark combination of malice and rage, and despite everything you knew about him, every ounce of trust you had in him, you found yourself glancing at the weapon in his hands, praying that he would put it down. “What do you want to talk about, huh?” he demanded, taking a menacing step forward, counteracting the backwards step you’d just taken. “About you screwing up back there? About how you almost got us killed?”

You flinched, listening as his voice rose with each accusation. “Dean, what are you talking about?” you queried. “How did I almost get us killed? We were perfectly fine! We had those vamps cornered and you know it!”

“Oh, we had them cornered, did we?” Dean replied, carefully placing the knife on the table. Somehow, watching him do that terrified you more, a bad feeling in your gut. His anger you could take. But this, this sense of calm, this was not something you were used to at all, and certainly not something you wanted to familiarise yourself with. “What about when you fell, huh? Just about brought the whole place crashing down, alerting all those freaking vamps that we were there. You’re just lucky I was there to save your ass.”

“Excuse me?” you exclaimed, regaining your composure as anger flooded your veins. “I wasn’t ‘lucky’ you were there; I can hold my own, thank you very much. And I did not let all the vamps know we were there. Hell, I barely even woke one of them. And as for me falling, yeah, I tripped. But you know what? It was a goddamn mistake, and right now, my ankle freaking kills and I could do with a little concern instead of you acting like a dick!”

“What did you just call me?” Dean challenged, his eyes turning dark. You felt your composure falter, and you felt yourself longing for an escape, growing uncomfortable at the way this conversation was unfolding. “I may be a dick, but you, Y/N, you are a pathetic excuse for a hunter.” Your eyes began burning and you swallowed hard against the growing lump in your throat. This wasn’t like Dean, not at all. The Dean you knew would never speak to you like this, would never even think that way about you…would he?

“The Mark,” you stated, your head suddenly clearing. “This is the Mark talking. This isn’t you, Dean. The Mark is messing with your head.”

“DON’T BLAME THIS ON THE MARK,” Dean roared, his body looming up before you, an immense wall of strength, and you suddenly found yourself remembering just how much taller and stronger than you he was. “My head is clearer than it’s ever been. The Mark is making me realise things I should have seen a long time ago.”

“Well if you think that, you’re more of an idiot than I thought,” you retorted, your voice only shaking slightly. And then a flash of movement, a glimpse of red, raised skin, a crack filling the room, and searing pain erupting across your cheek.

You collapsed into one of the chairs, the force of the blow and the sheer pain sending you reeling. Glancing at Dean, who was breathing heavily, his chest heaving, you fled the room, clutching your cheek as tears began to fall down your face and blur your vision. Pushing past the pain in your ankle and now your cheek, you sought the safe confines of your room, where you locked the door before falling back against your bed, wishing that you’d had the chance to grab some ice on your way out, anything to dull the pain.

Ten minutes went by, half an hour, before there was a knock at your door. “Y/N,” Dean’s quiet voice came through the door. “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry. You have no idea how freaking sorry I am.”

“Fuck off,” you whispered, your voice hoarse from sobs.

“Y/N…please,” Dean begged. And for some reason, against all your better judgement, you stood up, moving towards the door to let him in. You weren’t quite sure what it was, what made you think he could be trusted. But there was something in his voice, something raw and desperate…something genuine. You got the impression that maybe this was the Dean you knew, one you could reason with.

You opened the door to find Dean waiting outside, a packet of frozen peas in his hand, which he passed to you wordlessly. Equally silent, you reached out a hand to grab them, exposing the angry bruise covering half of your face.

“Y/N…” Dean gaped, a look of horror flooding his expression. “Shit, I’m so sorry. I can’t…I just, I don’t know what came over me. You know I’d never hurt you like that. I was just so, so angry. And I just don’t know what came over me.”

“I do,” you finally spoke up, your eyes flicking up to meet his. “It was the Mark, just like I said. It…it does things to you. It’s changing you, Dean. And not in a good way.”

“I know,” he uttered, his voice coming out strained. “I know, I can feel it. And believe me, I never would’ve taken it if I’d have known this would happen. I wish there was some way I could take it back, that I could make this right. But I just don’t know what to do.”

“I do,” you repeated, taking in his features. His shoulders, slumped and defeated. His eyes, shocked and haunted, seemingly unable to look away from the pain he’d inflicted upon you. “We’re going to call every hunter we know, go through every book in that library.” Dean’s eyes shifted to your own, clouded with confusion, unsure of where you were going with this. “We’re getting that damned Mark off of you.”

~~~~~

Well, thanks for reading! And thanks to everyone who stuck by me for the very, very, VERY long time I was inactive for.

Please don’t repost.

I absolutely love your blog!!! Could you do an imagine where Y/N is a hunter with Sam and Dean, but every week she disappears once until morning and when the guys track her down they find out that she does dance in an empty studio to relieve her stress? It would mean a lot to me if you did this imagine for me :)

Thank you so much! That means a lot to me.

Just so you guys know, I know essentially nothing about dancing. All I know comes from watching Dance Academy.
~~~~~

As soon as Sam and Dean seemed to be immersed in research, you snuck out of the bunker, taking your car into town. It was something you did about once a week and so far, they hadn’t noticed that you’d been leaving.

It had all started several weeks ago, when, after a hunt gone wrong, which had resulted in the death of a young boy, you’d been wandering around the town near the bunker. You had been lost in your thoughts, and almost missed the ballet studio as you walked past. But you had backtracked, drinking in the sight. Dancing had always been a passion of yours, and you couldn’t believe you had found a studio near the bunker.

The morning after your discovery, you’d returned, hoping to speak with the owner. As it turns out, she was a friend of your dance teacher from when you were a kid, and agreed to leave the studio unlocked one night a week, so long as you locked up afterwards with the spare key.

So each Monday, you snuck out to the studio, letting go of the stress as you stretched and spun and lost yourself to the movements. And today was just like those other days. You positioned yourself at the barre, going through the positions as you watched yourself in the mirror opposite.

But just as you were heading over to turn on the music, you caught side of movement behind you, and spun around to find Sam and Dean watching you. “Nice outfit,” Dean observed. Nervously, you smoothed down the material of your leotard, something much different to the jeans and button up shirts you wore when hunting.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, reaching down to take off your pointe shoes. You figured that you wouldn’t get to do much dancing tonight, not with company around.

“We were wondering where you’ve been going the past few weeks,” Sam explained. “We hope we weren’t intruding on anything.” Huh. So they had noticed your absence. It would seem that you weren’t as secretive as you would like to believe.

“It’s fine,” you assured them. “I just like coming here. It takes away the stress.” Their faces showed that they knew exactly what that was like. Being a hunter was never easy, and sometimes the pressure built up to a point where it was nearly unbearable.

“I didn’t know you danced,” Dean spoke up, seeming surprised at this revelation.

Smiling ruefully, you said, “Well, I don’t, really. Not since I started hunting. But then I found this studio, and I thought, ‘Why not?’”

The brothers smiled at you, and you felt dumb for ever thinking they would laugh at you for your love of dance. “I think it’s great that you’ve got something to take your mind off things,” Sam told you.

“I agree,” Dean added. “Maybe you might even be able to teach us a few moves.” You laughed, collecting your bag from the corner and going over to meet them.

“Like you could keep up.”

~~~~~

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Can you write a readerxdean imagine where the reader is pretty similar to dean and they go on a road trip and they're singing and dean confesses he loves the reader and super fluffy?c:

Anonymous

Hi. I hope you enjoy this imagine!

~~~~~

The Impala flew down the straight stretch of black road, with no sign of anyone else around. You loved it like this - Dean behind the wheel, you in the passenger seat. Both front windows were down and you were each resting an elbow on the window frame, allowing the wind to whip inside, ruffling your hair and shirts.

You dug through Dean’s box of cassette tapes, smiling as you found the one you were after and put it in the player. As the sound of AC/DC filled the car, Dean looked over at you and grinned, tapping out the beat on the steering wheel. “You have excellent taste in music,” he told you, turning back to the road.

“I know,” you agreed, leaning back against the seat. As the chorus came round, you and Dean grinned at one another, before proceeding to belt out the lyrics.

“Dirty deeds, done dirt cheap
Dirty deeds, done dirt cheap
Dirty deeds, done dirt cheap
(Dirty deeds and they’re done dirt cheap)
(Dirty deeds and they’re done dirt cheap).”

Dean was head banging, and you had turned the dashboard into a drum kit. It was so freeing, to just rock out and forget about angels and demons and ghosts for the time being. You and Dean could just relax and act like teenagers at a concert for a while, instead of worrying about the fate of the world.

As the song finally died out, the two of you laughed, trying to catch your breath. “God, I love this,” Dean murmured.

“Me too,” you smiled, looking in the rear view mirror at the endless expanse of road stretching out behind you.

“No, I mean it,” he insisted. “I-I love you.” He held his breath, looking at you out of the corner of his eye to gauge your reaction.

“As you damn well should, Winchester,” you smirked. But then your expression softened, and you reached over to squeeze his knee. “But don’t worry - I know the feeling. Road trips with you are my favourite things in the world.”

~~~~~

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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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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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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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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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I love your blog! I was wondering if I could request a Dean imagine where the reader and dean had a baby and the reader gets up during the night to check on it and finds a demon in its room.

Anonymous

Thank you! I hope you like this imagine.

~~~~~

The bed sheets felt so good as you climbed into bed, sinking your head into the pillow as the mattress cradled your body. Your eyelids drooped, and it barely even registered when Dean climbed into bed beside you, tucking you under the covers. He pressed a kiss to your forehead before settling himself on his side of the bed. “How was she?” he murmured.

“Mmm, yeah, I got her to sleep,” you replied drowsily. “She won’t sleep through the night, though. God, when people said that we’d get no sleep with a baby, I didn’t realise how literally they meant it.”

Dean let out a humourless laugh. “God, I know. I love her, but man I wish she would stop crying.” You were about to agree, but you felt yourself being pulled under, and you welcomed the much needed rest.

Only a couple of months ago, you had finally become a mother, a title you couldn’t be prouder of. But what you hadn’t expected was just how exhausted it would make you. Many days had passed where you’d drift off to sleep when you were supposed to be looking after the baby, before jerking upright and realising what had just happened, and hating yourself for leaving your baby unattended, even for only a few minutes.

Even on the nights when you did go into a deep sleep, it didn’t last very long. Tonight was no exception. Barely three hours after you’d drifted off, you were woken by crying coming from the baby monitor on your bedside table. Groaning, you sat upright, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. Dean was still asleep, so you went to check on your daughter yourself, wanting to let him sleep as much as possible.

Your heart just about stopped as you turned into the nursery. Standing in front of the cot was a man, leaning over your baby. “Dean!” you screamed, as the man’s attention turned to you. But as he faced you, you saw that his eyes were black, and you knew that this was no man. It was a demon.

“Please, leave her alone,” you pleaded. “She’s just a baby! Take me instead!” The demon took a step towards you, using his power to force you up against the wall. Your breath cut off and you started choking, watching helplessly as he turned back to your little girl. A rushing sound filled your ears, making it almost impossible to hear the crying coming from the cot. You were sure that you were going to pass out, and you had no idea what the demon would do to your baby when you did.

But just as the darkness starting creeping in on the edge of your vision, a figure darted into the room, headed straight for the demon. Dean. Slowly, your heart rate returned to normal. Everything would be okay now that he was here. He was going to fix everything.

You saw him stab the demon and then you were free, slumping back against the wall with a hand to your throat, gasping for breath. Dean was there in an instant, cradling your face and asking over and over again if you were alright. Nodding, you stumbled over to the cot, where your baby was crying.

“Hey, it’s okay,” you gasped, picking her up and rocking her in your arms. “Shh, sweetheart, it’s alright.” Gradually, the cries began to die down, and soon she was sleeping in your arms.

“Is she alright?” Dean murmured, reaching for her. You handed her over, checking her for any physical signs of harm.

“I-I think so,” you shakily replied. “But what if he’s done something to her?” You thought of Sam and what had happened to him when he was six months old. Dean must’ve been thinking along the same lines, because he said, “I’ll get Cas to come check her out. Why don’t you go back to bed? I’ll look after her.”

“Dean -” you began to protest.

“No,” he interrupted. “You’re exhausted. Please. Just let me do this.” Seeing the pleading look in his eyes, you consented, turning to leave the room. You had just reached the doorway when you heard a muffled sob behind you. Looking back, you saw Dean’s body shaking slightly, but he kept a firm grip on your baby.

“Dean, what’s wrong?” you asked, hurrying back to his side. He shook his head, at a loss for words.

“I thought I was going to lose you,” he finally choked out. “I thought it would be like Mum all over again. Like Jess. When I heard you scream, all I could think was that I would run in here to find you burning on the ceiling.”

In that moment, he looked so broken and lost. All you could think of was that little boy, one who had lost far too much, and gained so much responsibility. Dean deserved a better life than hunting, and just as he’d gotten one, this demon had shown up in your daughter’s room to remind the both of you that sometimes, happy endings just aren’t possible.

“Dean,” you said firmly, looking him directly in the eye. “I am still here. I know what could’ve happened, but it didn’t. I’m still here, and I’m not going to leave you,” you promised. “We’re going to get through this. Together.”

Dean looked up at you, a desperate look in his eyes. But there was hope there too, like he thought that the two of you could do this. He knew that you weren’t going to leave, unlike so many other people in his life. “I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you, too.”

~~~~~

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Jul 9

Hi sweetie ! Please could you write a fic with Dean being jealous because another guy touched you ?

Anonymous

Hey! Um, okay, for the record, I know nothing about pool. Absolutely nothing. But I really wanted to include it in this imagine. So I had to go on wikihow to write this. So if anything’s wrong or whatever, please forgive me.

~~~~~

There was a clunk as the cue ball shot out from where you’d hit it, bumping into the other balls on the table. You straightened up, watching in satisfaction as a couple of the balls went into the pockets. You were just taking a swig of your beer when a voice close to your ear said, “You’re pretty good at that.” Turning around, you found yourself face to face with an incredibly attractive guy, probably around Sam’s age.

“Thank you,” you replied, giving him a coy smile as you put your empty bottle down on a side table. The music and laughter of the bar made it hard to hear, so you had to lean in very close to catch his next words.

“Of course,” he said, “I would offer a couple of suggestions for you to improve your technique.”

“Excuse me?” you answered, leaning away from him and pretending to take offence at his words. “My technique is flawless!”

He smirked at you, reaching out to take the pool cue from you. “There’s always room for improvement,” he told you, giving you a wink. You felt your face flush, and hoped that the poor lighting kept your face hidden from him. “The key,” he continued, turning away from you to face the table, “is in your stance.”

You watched as he positioned himself over the table, lining up the cue with the cue ball. He paused for a moment, before drawing the cue back and sending it into the ball. It shot forwards, hitting the other balls and sending them ricocheting off the edges of the table, with several of them sinking in the pockets. “Impressive,” you nodded, glancing at him in admiration.

“Here. You try.” He held the cue out to you, watching as you grabbed it and took up your position at the edge of the table. As you started to line it up, you felt him come up behind you, his arms reaching around to shift you into a better position. You had to stifle a gasp as his warm breath grazed your neck. “Good,” he whispered. “Now take a shot.”

You let the pool cue go, and laughed as the hit turned out better than it had ever gone before. But you barely had a moment to enjoy the shot before you felt the warmth of your admirer being jerked away from you. “What the -?” You spun around, only to find Dean pulling the guy you’d been talking to away.

“What are you doing, Dean?” Last you knew, he and Sam had been talking to a couple of attractive women over by the bar. You wondered if he’d had too much to drink, but he didn’t seem to be hurting the guy - just keeping him off you. “I’m so sorry,” you said to the guy. “This is my friend, Dean. But honestly, I don’t know what’s gotten into him!”

“It’s alright,” he replied, sending a tight smile in your direction.

“Could I speak to you for a minute, Y/N?” Dean asked stiffly. You were about to say no, when the guy you were interested in glanced between the two of you and excused himself, leaving you to face Dean on your own.

“What the hell, Dean?” you demanded. “You just sent him away! And I didn’t even get his name or his number!” You felt yourself growing angry, and you glanced at Dean in disbelief. What right did he have to choose who you spoke with when you went out? And it wasn’t as if the guy had been hurting you - it was an innocent conversation. Perhaps a tad flirty, but innocent none the less. What right did Dean have to interrupt?

“I didn’t like the way he was touching you.” With every minute that passed, Dean seemed to grow more and more uncomfortable. Which served him right, seeing as he had ruined your evening.

“Dean, he was helping me with my pool!” you exclaimed. But the longer you looked at him, the more you noticed his fidgeting and nervousness. Dean, the guy who was always confident (and perhaps the tiniest bit arrogant at times), was nervous? “Oh. My. God,” you said, finally understanding. “You were jealous!”

“I was not!” Dean protested weakly. But he couldn’t meet your eye, which didn’t go far in the way of convincing you.

“Yeah, right!” you laughed, putting the pool cue back. You gazed at him thoughtfully for a moment, smirking slightly, before standing up on tiptoes so that your mouth was in line with his ear. “You know,” you whispered, “If you ever want to play pool with me, all you have to do is ask.”

~~~~~

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