Hey! I really love your writing. You're so good. I was wondering if you could do one where the reader cuts herself and doesn't want the boys to find out. But on a hunt she gets seriously injured and the boys have to help her and it requires them to remove her clothing and see the cuts on her wrists sides and legs. And one of the boys tells her they have feeling for her and they are there for her. Fluff? And you don't have to do this if you're too swamped or anything.
Hi. Thank you!
TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions of self harm.
I would just like to say that I don’t really know a lot about self harm. So if I have in any way romanticised it or portrayed it inaccurately, please tell me. I really don’t want to do that, so if I have, let me know so that I can make sure I don’t do so in the future.
~~~~~
You got dressed for the hunt, making sure to choose clothes with long sleeves. It was a secret of yours, one that you wished you didn’t have but you didn’t dare tell. The Winchesters were protective about the marks made by monsters. Who knew how they’d react if they found out about the marks made by your own hand.
You hated yourself for it, but you couldn’t stop. It was the only way you knew how to cope with the pain you felt in your heart. Admittedly, it wasn’t the best coping mechanism, but it was all you had, and it would have to do.
As you left your room in the bunker, you grabbed your duffel bag off the floor, knowing that this hunt would require you and Sam to stay in a motel for a couple of nights. Dean was staying behind to rest up after the last hunt he’d been on, but had agreed to lend you and Sam the Impala.
—-
It was a fairly basic hunt. The only problem was that it was a Wendigo and, not knowing the area, you might have trouble finding out where it was taking its victims. But when you arrived at the town, you met a couple of locals who were keen to put a stop to the disappearances, and they took you out into the forest to look for the creature.
For several hours, you searched to no avail. And as the sky started to turn dark, Sam suggested that maybe it would be a good idea to turn back now and come back tomorrow. After all, night time was when the Wendigo would be more likely to come out and play, and you knew that it would be practically impossible to defeat it in the dark.
But as the four of you headed off, you stumbled in the growing darkness, and soon enough found that you’d lost your way. “Sam?” you called out, the fear starting to set in. A twig snapped behind you and you spun around, your heart just about pounding through your rib cage.
“Y/N?” his voice replied.
“Oh, thank God,” you breathed, taking a step in the direction his voice had come from. But the closer you got, the larger his shadow appeared to be. Sam was tall, but not that tall, surely. And that was when you remembered that Wendigos could mimic human voices.
You turned to run but the creature came up behind you, tearing into your stomach with its sharp claws to keep you from getting away. You cried out in pain, praying that Sam was near enough to hear you. But as the Wendigo began taking you away, you heard nothing else, and your hope of being rescued anytime soon began to fade.
—-
The cave the Wendigo had taken you to was cold, with lines of moisture running down the walls. It stank of rotting flesh and you kept your eyes squeezed shut, not wanting to see the unconscious bodies hanging up around you. The area was only small, and you didn’t dare move for fear of brushing up against one of the mangled bodies or the sharp rocks sticking out from the cave wall.
It had been at least two hours since you been dumped here and tied up, and you had no idea what you would do when the Wendigo finally came back. You knew they liked to keep their victims alive, which meant it would probably go after you first, giving its other victims time to heal.
Very faintly, you thought you could hear footsteps approaching in the distance and your breathing started coming hard and fast. It was coming for you, it must be. But then they started heading back the way they’d come, leaving you confused. And that was when you heard it - the faint sound of shouting, and you could’ve sworn that the passages outside the cavern you were in glowed a tiny bit brighter.
Fire. It had to be fire. And sure enough, Sam and the two locals rushed into the cave minutes later, and set about freeing all of you. “Sam,” you breathed. “You came for me.”
“Of course I did,” he answered, picking you up bridal style to take you from the cave. “Will you guys be alright?” he asked the others. When they nodded, he thanked them for their help and left, laying you carefully in the backseat of the Impala before speeding off towards your motel to stitch up the wound in your stomach.
“You know,” you told him as you arrived back at the room and he carried you inside, “I can fix it up myself. It’s no big deal.” Sam looked at you seriously, eyeing the pallor of your cheeks and the light shaking of your hands.
“Y/N, you aren’t strong enough to do it right now. Let me help you,” he insisted. Eventually you relented, but that was before he told you he’d have to remove your shirt to access the wound.
“What? No!” you panicked. “You can’t do that!”
“Y/N, I’m not going to look at anything,” Sam told you, looking mildly offended that you seemed to trust him so little.
“That’s not what I mean,” you whispered.
“Then what is it?” he asked patiently. You eyed him for a moment, your bottom lip trembling, before slowly inching your shirt up your stomach, revealing many more injuries than Sam had been expecting. After spending such a long time hiding this from him, you knew you couldn’t keep it a secret any longer. This cut from the Wendigo was too serious for Sam to ignore, and you knew he wouldn’t give up until he’d stitched it up. So you’d decided to reveal your secret to him, wanting him to find out on your own terms.
“Y/N,” he murmured, taking in the scars with sad eyes. “How…?”
“I’m sorry, Sam,” you told him, tears falling silently down your cheeks. He looked up at you fiercely, taking hold of your hand.
“No, you have nothing to be sorry for. This is not your fault. And I’m going to be here for you, and I’ll help you through this,” he promised.
“Why?” This wasn’t Sam’s battle, and you didn’t know why he was so eager to fight.
“Because I love you,” he murmured, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. “I love you more than I ever thought was possible. And I wish you could feel that way about yourself.” Your hand covered your mouth in shock, and you couldn’t believe your ears.
“You love me?” you asked, hardly daring to believe it could be true.
“I do,” he uttered. “And we’re going to make it through this. I’m going to be by your side the whole time. I promise.”
~~~~~
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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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Could you do an imagine wear the reader is a 14 year old girl and older sam and Dean come for a case to find her getting beat up and take her cause she has no parents or family? I love your blog so much!
Anonymous
Thank you so much! I hope you like it.
~~~~~
You walked along the streets with your hood up, the ends of your sleeves covering your hands to keep them warm. In your hands were a couple of plastic grocery bags, filled with only the most basic supplies.
When you had gone up to the counter, the woman working the register had given you a funny look, which you didn’t blame her for. After all, a 14 year old girl doing grocery shopping at night, when it’s dark out? Not something you see very often, and certainly not something that you can ignore. So you had gotten the hell out of there, collecting your shopping quickly before she had time to start asking questions.
It was time to leave this town, which was a shame, because you quite liked it here. You had found an abandoned house just out of town, the perfect location. It was within walking distance of the shops, but far enough away from any prying eyes. But now you were going to have to leave it, and just hope that you found somewhere just as good in the next place you settled in, wherever that may be.
You were just passing the next streetlight when it starting flickering. After pausing for the briefest of moments, you picked up the pace. All of a sudden, the night seemed so much darker, and you just wanted to get back under cover. But as you hurried off, you heard footsteps behind you. You looked around, but there was nothing there. Your breath hitched in your chest, and you felt as if your heart was in your throat. Turning back around, you barrelled head first into a tall woman.
She was fairly young looking, and was dressed in a tailored skirt and shirt, a sight which wasn’t uncommon around here, especially not for someone just getting back from work. But something about her was off. Maybe it was the hungry look in her eyes, or the slight stains you noticed on the fabric of her suit. But whatever it was, you knew something was wrong, even before her lips curled upwards and she said tauntingly, “Hello, sweetie.”
Before you even had a chance to register what was going on, the woman had attacked you, flinging you against the brick wall of the building beside you. Your head pounded and your vision slid out of focus as you lay in a crumpled heap on the footpath. Reaching up to push your hair out of your face, your fingers met something sticky - blood. Your blood.
Your hand started to tremble, a sensation which soon swept through the rest of your body. You had no idea who this woman was, but you knew that unless a miracle happened, she’d end up killing you, right here on this darkened street.
Just as she came in for a second attack, you felt yourself blacking out. And perhaps it was just a hallucination, but you could’ve sworn that that miracle came. But not in a blinding flash of light, as you would’ve expected. No, this miracle came in the form of an engine rumbling down the street. Squinting, you could just make out two men jumping out of a car. An Impala, you thought.
The men leapt at the woman, with the taller one grabbing her in a choke hold while the shorter one stabbed her with a knife. You stifled a scream as her body flashed with a yellowish light, before slumping to the ground.
As the men turned towards you, you backed up, feeling your back meet the cold bricks behind you. There was nowhere to go, and if these guys turned that knife on you…but no. The man with the knife had let it go, and had dropped down to your level while his friend dealt with the body. “Hey,” he whispered. “What’s your name?”
“Y-Y/N,” you stuttered, still shaking in terror.
“Well, Y/N, my name’s Dean. And that other guy you saw is Sam, my brother,” he told you gently, maintaining steady eye contact.
“Wh-what just happened? Who was that? Why did she attack me?”
“Hey, hey, hey,” he said, interrupting you before your voice had the chance to rise into hysteria. “It’s alright. That…it’s a long story. But the point is you’re safe now. Alright? My brother and I are going to make sure you’re alright.” As he said this, his brother came back and pulled a First Aid kit from the car.
“Do you mind?” he asked, gesturing to the cut on your head. Shaking your head, you watched as he sterilised a cotton wool ball, before dabbing it gently along the wound. You flinched as it made contact with your skin, the cut burning as he cleaned it up. “Sorry about that,” Sam apologised, fixing your head up as quickly as possible. “Alright, you’re done,” he told you, packing the First Aid kit back up and putting it in the car.
“Did you want a lift home?” Dean asked as he gathered up the groceries you’d dropped. He frowned as he put them back into the bags, no doubt wondering why you had them with you on a street so late at night in the first place. But he didn’t ask you any questions, which was lucky, considering your head was still fuzzy and you didn’t know if you could think up a good enough excuse.
“I’ll be right,” you replied, getting to your feet. But you had barely straightened yourself up before the world tilted, and if Sam hadn’t caught you and held you upright, you would’ve fallen again.
“Yeah, you’re not going anywhere on your own,” he told you. “In fact, maybe we should take you to the hospital,” he added worriedly, peering into your eyes to check your pupils.
“No, no, it’s fine,” you hastily assured him. “But, ah, yeah, a ride home would be good.” They opened the backdoor for you and helped you into the seat, before letting themselves into the front seats and pulling away. The further you drove the more you felt a sense of relief growing in you. You were finally getting away from where the terrifying ordeal had taken place, and you never wanted to go back.
About ten minutes later, the brothers were finally close to the house you were staying in, having followed your directions. So when you were about 100 metres away, you told them to pull over. “I’ll walk from here,” you informed them.
They squinted into the darkness, evidently looking for where you lived. “I don’t see anything,” Dean said.
“Oh, it’s…set back from the road,” you lied. “But don’t worry, I’ll walk the rest of the way.” You reached for the door handle, but just as your fingers closed around it, Sam reached out and stopped you, gently pulling you back.
“Y/N, all I see is that abandoned house over there. Do you want to tell us what’s really going on?”
Dean had turned back to look at you as well now. “What about all those groceries, huh? How come you were out so late by yourself?”
There was something about their questions and their kind expressions that made you break, and tears came to your eyes. Wiping them away, you told them all about where you were staying, about how you had to keep moving around. How there was no one to look after you. How you were all alone in the world.
“What happened to your parents?” Sam asked gently.
“Life,” you uttered softly. The brothers shared a look before seeming to come to a decision and looking back at you.
“How would you like to come with us?” Dean asked you. “We have a place, and it’s safe and secure. I think you might like it there. No more moving, no more late night grocery shopping. No more being alone,” he added.
You stared back at them in disbelief, hardly believing your ears. After all this time, could you finally find a place again? A place of your own? It almost sounded too good to be true, but maybe, just maybe, you could have two miracles tonight. “Yes,” you heard yourself say. “Yes, I’d love to go live with you.”
~~~~~
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Will you please do an imagine were the reader is super nice to everyone and sam treats her like dirt because he loves her?
Anonymous
Hey. I finally got round to writing this! I hope you like it.
~~~~~
You stumbled into the bunker, your hands laden down with bags of groceries. The Winchesters and you took it in turns to do the grocery shopping, and this week, it had been your turn. So you had set off for the nearest town and, two hours later, you were back at the bunker, having picked up everything on the list.
“I’m back!” you called out, dumping the bags on the kitchen counter. Straightening up, you stretched your back, which was aching from the strain of all the shopping. Upon hearing your call, Dean came into the room, and took a quite peek in the bag nearest to him.
“How’d it go?” he asked, his face lighting up as he drew a bag of peanut M&Ms from a shopping bag.
“Good. I got everything on the list,” you told him, smiling at his childlike enthusiasm. “Aaand, I got a little something else for you. You can have it for lunch.”
“No way.” Dean’s jaw dropped, and he threw down the M&Ms as you pulled a pie from a bag. “I love you, Y/N!” he exclaimed, grabbing the pie from your hands and pulling you in for a hug.
“Sam, I got you something, too,” you told him, grinning as he walked into the room to grab a drink from the fridge. He glanced at you for the briefest moment, before snatching the salad you offered him from your hand and stalking out of the room.
“Hey, Sammy, get back here,” Dean called. Sam turned back around, leaning against the doorframe with a bored expression.
“What?”
“Not ‘what,’” Dean answered, a muscle in his jaw jumping as he looked at Sam. “Y/N here went out of her way to do something for you, and the least you could do is thank her.”
“Dean, really, you don’t have to -”
“No, I do,” Dean interrupted, turning to look at you now. “You’re always doing nice things for us, things you don’t have to do, and Sam never acts grateful for it. It’s time he showed you some respect.”
“Fine. Thank you, Y/N,” Sam said to you. To Dean, he added, “Can I go now?”
“No. I want to know why you do it.”
“Dean, this is getting out of hand,” you told him. “I’m sure Sam has his reasons. He doesn’t need to prove anything to us.”
“Y/N, I appreciate that you want to avoid any conflict, but I’m going to have this discussion with Sam regardless. You are a good person, and you don’t deserve this treatment.” You fell silent, knowing that once Dean made his mind up, you wouldn’t be able to do anything to change it.
The truth was, you had noticed the way Sam treated you. And it really did bother you, considering you knew you had done nothing to deserve that kind treatment. But you kept quiet about it, not wanting to make things worse. You figured that if you said nothing, he would just ignore you. Because in theory, indifference was so much easier to deal with than anger. But in practice, it’s a whole lot worse.
“Do we have to do this?” By now, Sam had stopped leaning on the doorframe and now stood up straight, his body rigid with tension.
“Yes, Sam, we do,” Dean stated flatly. “Now spill.” Sam sighed, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. Every inch of him screamed reluctance, and when he finally opened his mouth to speak, it was as if he had to draw the words from deep down inside of him.
“Fine,” he exhaled. “Fine. How do I…? Alright. Y/N, are you…God, I can’t believe I’m asking this. Are you familiar with the Supernatural books?”
“The what?” you asked, a nervous laugh escaping your lips. What was he talking about? And where was he going with this?
“Basically, it was a series of books about our lives. Don’t look them up, though!” he added hastily, seeing your curious expression. “The point is…those books explain everything that has happened in our lives since we started hunting together. And…part of that story is my previous relationships. Which…haven’t gone so well.” Wait a minute. What? This conversation was in no way going the way you had predicted. You held your breath, waiting for Sam to continue.
But Sam seemed to have run out of steam, unsure of how to continue. Looking around, you noticed for the first time that Dean was no longer in the room. He must’ve slipped out while you were busy focussing on what Sam had to say. “Sam,” you said quietly. “What are you trying to say?”
“Y/N, I…I love you. And the reason I treat you like dirt is because I don’t want you to go the same way as everyone else I’ve liked before. I figured that if I pushed you away, I could keep you safe,” he finished quietly.
You stood frozen, not knowing how to react. What were you supposed to say? After months of thinking that Sam hated you, you were finally finding out that he loved you? “You have a really funny way of showing it, you know,” you said to him, your voice trembling with suppressed anger.
“I know,” Sam replied, picking up on this. “But I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
“Ironic, isn’t it, that the very way you go about protecting me turns out to be the reason I’m hurting in the first place.” Sam hung his head in shame, not able to look at you after realising just how he’d made you feel.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
Folding your arms, you said, “Well, sorry doesn’t really go that far.”
“Then let me make it up to you,” he said earnestly, finally looking up at you again. “I’ll treat you properly, I won’t be a jerk to you any more. Can you give me another chance?” He looked so eager to please, his expression so hopeful, that you found you couldn’t turn him down.
“I guess it couldn’t hurt,” you answered.
~~~~~
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Can I have an imagine where the reader gets pregnant an it's Sam's baby and when she tells him Sam decides to quit the hunting life and wants this child to live a normal life. Thank you.
Anonymous
Hi. This isn’t my best because I haven’t written much lately. And I’m sorry about that, by the way. But I’ve had so many assessments lately. At least now, there’s only one left, but that’s all being done in class.
Also, I got City of Heavenly Fire, so I had to read that. I finished it two days ago. Does any one here like TMI? I thought the book was INCREDIBLE. Heartbreaking, but fantastic.
Anyway, I hope you like this imagine!
~~~~~
You took a deep breath, feeling your fingernails dig into the palm of your hand as you clenched your fist around the object you were holding. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach, but for all your nervousness, you couldn’t help but feel a slight pocket of excitement bubble up inside you.
Stepping into the library, you headed towards where Sam was hunched over a book of lore. “Sammy?” You hopped onto the desk beside his research, brushing a couple of papers aside to make room for yourself.
“Hey, Y/N, what’s up?” he asked, greeting you with a warm smile. “I’ll probably take a break in an hour or so. I think I’m onto something.”
“That’s great, Sammy,” you told him, trying to return his smile. He noticed your nerves, and reached out a hand, placing it on your knee to stop it from bouncing up and down.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” he questioned, rubbing his thumb in circles against your leg to calm you. You looked into his concerned eyes. Instead of answering, you held your hand out, palm up, revealing what you held. A pregnancy text.
And it was positive.
He frowned at it for a moment, trying to place the item he was looking at. But you could tell the moment he realised what it was, because his head shot up to look at you, his eyes widening. “Are-are you…” He trailed off, surprise seemingly getting the better of him. You nodded, watching his face closely for a reaction.
Suddenly, he grabbed you in his arms, pulling you off the desk and swinging you around. “We’re going to have a baby!” he exclaimed, his face breaking into the biggest grin you’d ever seen on him.
“Hey!” you laughed. “Put me down! I’m getting dizzy!” Sam put you down immediately, reaching out to steady you.
“Are you okay? Is the baby okay?” he asked, starting to freak out.
“I’m fine, Sam!” You laughed again, amused by his reaction. For a man who gave monsters nightmares, he seemed to be unnecessarily scared about the whole baby situation. “You don’t have to worry about me. Sam?” He had turned away from you, and you doubted that he had even heard the last part of what you’d said. “What are you doing?” you demanded, watching as he slammed the leather bound book shut and starting packing papers away.
“I’m putting all this stuff away,” he answered, as if it should have been obvious.
“Why?” Sam pushed his hair out of his face, glancing back at you.
“Why else? I’m giving this up.”
“But Sam…this is your life.”
“No,” he stated firmly, “you’re my life. You, Dean and Cas. And now this baby. And I’m not going to risk anything happening to any of you.”
“But what about the other two? Won’t they want to keep hunting?” you asked, feeling stupid for asking so many questions. But at the same time, a part of you felt overjoyed. Sam was giving up his whole life just to be with you to start your family.
“They’ve always wanted a way out,” he explained. “Maybe this will be it. We can all get jobs. Hell, maybe I can even go back go law school,” he continued. “I just want this baby to live a normal life, one without rock salt and EMF and holy water. I want our baby to be safe.”
You pressed your hand against your mouth, a rush of gratitude and love welling up inside you, threatening to spill over. You flung your arms around him, pulling him tightly against you. “Thank you,” you whispered into his shirt. It wasn’t much, but there was no other way for you to explain just how much you loved him in that moment. His grip tightened around you, telling you he understood, and his breath tickled your ear as he whispered back, “You’re welcome.”
~~~~~
Thanks for reading! I’ll probably get a lot more done now that my school stuff is out of the way. And thanks for sticking with me!
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could you write about the reader being in the shower or just getting done & be walking around the bunker in a towel and the boys walk in on you whilst running lotion on ? or you know something of that sort. :)
Anonymous
Hi. Sorry for the wait! This definitely wasn’t one of my best works, but I think my description and imagery are getting a little better, at least.
I hope you like it!
~~~~~
You stood beneath the shower head, the water running in rivulets down your skin. The steam was filling up the bathroom, rising up from your body. You hummed to yourself as you massaged the shampoo into your scalp, before rinsing your hair out and moving on to the conditioner.
When it had all been washed from your hair, you stuck out your hand to turn off the tap. The steady stream of water stopped and you stepped out of the shower, shivering at the sudden change in temperature. You grabbed the towel off the rack, rubbing it over yourself to dry off. When most of the droplets had disappeared from your skin, you wrapped it around you, tucking in the end so that it wouldn’t come undone.
“Damn,” you muttered, rummaging through the cabinets. You couldn’t find your lotion anywhere and you realised too late that you had run out just yesterday, and the new bottle you had bought was still sitting on the kitchen table with the rest of the shopping that was yet to be put away.
Switching off the light, you padded out of the bathroom and towards the kitchen. Sam and Dean were out, so you weren’t worried about anyone seeing you. By the time you had retrieved your lotion, you couldn’t be bothered to head back to the bathroom, so you plonked yourself down on one of the chairs and decided to do it there.
You were just rubbing some of the cream onto your leg when you heard a door slam, followed by voices and footsteps coming down the stairs. You froze, but before you had a chance to go anywhere, the boys entered the room.
“Hey-” Sam began, stopping abruptly when he saw what you were doing. Beside him, Dean had also come to a halt, and both boys were shifting their gazes around the room, looking at anything but you. Sam cleared his throat. “Well, uh, we’re back.”
“That’s for that, Captain Obvious,” you answered, trying to hide your embarrassment as you straightened the towel around you to make sure it covered everything.
“So…why are you…you know,” Dean stuttered, clearly at a loss for words.
“Putting on lotion in the kitchen?” you asked. When he nodded, you continued. “I just had a shower and I’d left it in here. I figured that since you guys weren’t home…”
“Right. Sorry about barging in,” Sam apologised hastily. His cheeks were still a bit pink, and he was clearly mortified. Not that he was the only one, of course.
“You know what?” You stood up, grabbing the bottle of lotion, the bane of your existence at the present moment. “I’m just gonna to go finish this in my bedroom. Maybe put some clothes on while I’m at it,” you added as an afterthought. You pushed past them, scurrying towards your room. As you went, you could feel their eyes on you, but they quickly shifted their eyes away when you glanced back at them.
When you finally shut your bedroom door, you leaned against the back of it and let out a sigh. When they had gotten over their embarrassment, they were never going to let you live this down.
~~~~~
Thanks for reading! Sorry for the lack of posts these past few days. I’ve been really busy with schoolwork.
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Your work is freaking amazing. Can you write one where the reader gets caught up in a hunt situation and won't leave till she figures out what's going on and then she really warms up to Sam and it gets really fluffyyy? :)
Anonymous
Hey. Thank you so much! I hope this is what you were after! And sorry about the wait.
I’m actually really proud of this, so I hope you like it!
~~~~~
Sobs wracked your body, your mother’s lifeless form cradled in your arms. She was just sleeping, it’d be fine. If you shook her hard enough, called her name loud enough, she’d wake up. Except she didn’t.
Standing up slowly, you gazed around your living room, ravaged by destruction. The furniture was turned over, the coffee table practically in splinters. The couch - the one you had sat on whilst watching Saturday morning cartoons, where you read on lazy Sundays, the place where your mother had looked after you when you were sick - was completely shredded, the seat cushions thrown around the room and the stuffing coming out.
Stepping forwards, you heard a crunching under your feet and looked down to find the shattered remains of your family photos. On top of the pile lay a photo of you and your mother, taken on your graduation day. Her face was marred by the crack running through the glass, which was ironic considering the fact that you’d just seen her real face shattered, slammed against the wall by an unknown force.
You shuddered, backing away from the room. It was too much, it was all too much. You needed to get out of here, to get away from it all. It couldn’t be real, it just couldn’t. Things like this didn’t happen in real life, and not to your family. These sorts of things were meant to be read about in the papers, watched on the news. Not experienced. But at the same time, you knew that this was nothing like what you’d ever heard of. People weren’t supposed to be thrown about by invisible people. There weren’t even supposed to be invisible people.
You turned around, fleeing back down the hallway towards the front door. However, you were pulled up short, crashing head first into something solid. You backed away in fear, sure that whatever had harmed your mother had come for you. But as you looked up, you realised you could see the thing you had hit, and as it turned out, it wasn’t something, but someone.
Two men stood before you, both wearing formal looking suits. The one you had run into, the taller of the two, had chin length dark hair, and stood beside another man, who was tall but not like the first one, with hair slightly lighter in colour. “Who the hell are you?” you asked, trying to mask your fear.
They both reached into the inside pockets of their suit jackets, pulling out an FBI badge. “Agent Stark and Agent Banner. FBI.” You blinked a little in confusion at their names, but gestured for them to continue. “We were passing through the neighbourhood and heard screams. We thought we’d look into it.”
“It was my mother,” you told them. “She…oh my god, she’s dead.” The reality of it hit you, the force of the realisation winding you. You felt yourself begin to hyperventilate and the taller man touched your arm, guiding you into the kitchen.
“It’s gonna be alright, I promise. You just need to take deep breaths to calm yourself down. Can you do that for me?” You nodded, trying to do as he said. Sitting down heavily in a chair, you felt your breathing slowly returning to normal. “Now can you please describe what happened?” the FBI agent asked gently, noticing your calmer state.
“I was just coming home from the shops, and I heard a crash coming from the house, followed by a scream,” you began. “I ran into the house and the living room…it was just trashed. And right in the middle of it all was my mum, and she was just flung across the room and straight into the wall. And she…” you had to swallow before continuing. “She was dead when I got to her.”
“What threw her?”
You flipped up your palms, conveying your cluelessness. “That’s the thing. There was nothing there.”
“Alright, um…?”
“Y/N,” you supplied.
“Alright, Y/N,” the shorter man continued. “Do you think you could tell us if your mum bought anything in the past few days? Probably something old, maybe an antique.”
“What sort of question is that?” you demanded.
“Please, just tell us. Every detail can help, even if it seems insignificant.”
“Well,” you replied, wracking your brain. “I know she was really into going to second hand stores, picking up things she thought were interesting or unusual. She liked the idea that something she owned had a story, a past, as though it was a real person. And I’m pretty sure she went looking in an antique store the other day when she went out, but I have no idea if she got anything.”
The two agents exchanged a glance. “Could you just excuse us for a moment?” the tall one asked. You nodded in consent. As the two of them walked away, you heard them muttering things that sounded like ‘spirits’ and 'EMF’.
“Excuse me,” you interrupted, barging in between the two of them. “When are you going to tell me what’s really going on?”
“What are you talking about?” the shorter man asked.
“Well for starters, my mother was thrown across the room by something invisible. Don’t you think that’s just a little bit weird?”
“It was a lot to take in. You were probably just-”
“Don’t you dare tell me I was imagining it!” you cut him off. “I know what I saw. And I think you do as well. I mean, since when do FBI guys talk about ghosts and ask about people buying antiques during a murder investigation? When are FBI guys ever just driving through the neighbourhood?” You raised an eyebrow at them and stood with your hands on your hips, daring them to contradict you. “And don’t think I didn’t notice your names. Agent Stark and Agent Banner? I’ve seen the Avengers, you know. And I don’t think I need to tell you that it’s an offence to impersonate a federal agent.”
“Look, Y/N,” the taller man began.
“If you’re about to tell me I’m making all this up, then you can just shut your mouth,” you warned.
“No, you’re right. We aren’t FBI guys. My name’s Sam Winchester and this is Dean, my brother,” he explained.
You narrowed your eyes at them suspiciously. “What are you doing in my house?”
“You may want to sit down,” Dean suggested.
“I’ve just seen my mum get - get killed,” you answered. “I can handle whatever you’ve got to say.”
“Alright,” Sam began. “Well, what attacked your mother was a spirit. The reason we were asking about any old objects she might have recently purchased was because we’ve been in town investigating a string of similar murders, and we believe she may have come into possession of the item that the spirit is attached to.”
“That’s-that’s ridiculous!” you exclaimed. “Ghosts aren’t even real!”
“How else would you explain it?” Dean asked. You opened your mouth, but shut it again when you realised you had no other explanation. “Exactly.”
“So I suppose you guys are like Ghostbusters then?” you joked.
“No. We’re better,” Dean smirked. He turned on his heel, heading outside to where they’d presumably parked their car. You looked back at Sam.
“So…” you began.
“So,” he answered with a smile.
“Thank you,” you murmured.
“For what?”
You blushed. “You were very sweet to me before. When I was freaking out, I mean.”
“That was nothing,” he replied bashfully.
“Well if that was nothing, I’d like to see something.” You froze. “I mean, you know, I just -”
“It’s alright,” Sam assured you. “I understand what you’re getting at.” You both stood around for a moment, taking turns to glance at each other before darting your eyes away, not wanting to be caught staring. “I should probably go,” Sam said, interrupting the silence. “Dean’ll be wondering where I am.”
“Wait!” you called after him, stopping him from leaving the room. He turned back to face you, waiting expectantly for you to continue. “I-I want to come with you.”
“Y/N…I don’t think that’s the best idea.” You folded your arms across your chest defiantly.
“And why not? It’s probably a lot better for me than staying here.”
“It’ll be dangerous,” he told you. You snorted.
“Yeah, because my home is so safe at the moment,” you answered sarcastically. He smiled ruefully.
“I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
Suddenly, you grew embarrassed, worried that you had overstepped a boundary. “Look, if you don’t want me to come, I understand. I just thought that you seem nice and that we could, I don’t know, get to know one another. Maybe you could help me deal with all this…” you trailed off, wiping away a few stray tears.
“Hey, look at me,” he said firmly. You reluctantly tilted your head upwards, shifting your gaze to meet his. “I’d love for us to get to know each other.”
~~~~~
Thanks for reading! Please don’t repost without giving credit.
Could you write an imagine where you grew up with the boys and they mostly thought of you as one of the guys but you do a case that requires you to dress up for something and they see how pretty you are?
Hi. I’m sorry about the wait! I wasn’t too sure about the ending of this, but I think it turned out alright.
~~~~~
For years, you had been hunting with the Winchesters. And even before you had been old enough to start hunting, you remember staying in motel rooms with them while your parents went off on hunts. You were halfway between the two brothers in age but even though you were never in their classes, they still made sure to hang out with you during break times at the various schools the three of you had attended over the course of your childhood.
Sam and Dean had never treated you as an outsider. In fact, they seemed to think of you as one of the guys. And for the most part, you were. You wore the same kind of flannel shirts they wore along with your torn jeans. You learned to shoot with them and went on your first hunt with them. You played football with them and you wrestled with them. Even when you’d gone through puberty and stopped looking like a child, they’d never seemed to pay much attention. You were just Y/N to them.
But last week, Sam had come across a case involving a cursed object, which was unfortunately in the possession of a very wealthy old woman. Breaking in was out of the question, as she had very tight security on her property, so you had to be a little more subtle in your attempt to retrieve the artefact. Like in the story of the Trojan Horse, you had to sneak in under the cover of a disguise. And luckily, she had a large charity benefit planned for tonight, held right in her elaborate ballroom. And the three of you had managed to score invites through a bit of trickery.
“Y/N, come on!” Dean called out. “If we don’t leave soon, we’ll be late, and we can’t afford to raise suspicion!”
“I’m coming!” you yelled back from the bathroom. Of course, this was a very formal event, and if you wanted to blend in, you had to play the part, which meant dressing up. It was the first time you had ever really done so, considering you hadn’t wanted to go to prom with a group of people you barely knew.
You stepped into your gold gown, pulling the silky fabric up over your body. The dress hugged your curves and, paired with the matching shoes, you looked ready to hit the Paris catwalks. You added a touch of make up, and slipped your grandmother’s diamond earrings into your ears. You brought your hair over your right shoulder, already styled from the hour you had spend in front of the mirror with your curler.
“How much longer are you going to be?” Dean’s voice rang out.
“I’m ready now!” You took a deep breath, smoothing imaginary creases in the dress’ fabric. Gripping the handle of the door, you slowly eased it open, stepping into the motel room beyond it. Sam and Dean were waiting there for you, looking uncomfortable yet incredibly attractive in their rented tuxes. When they caught sight of you in the doorway, their jaws dropped.
“Wow, Y/N, you look…wow,” Sam stuttered, his eyes widening in appreciation.
“You like?” you asked, spinning around to show off the back of the dress. Dean coughed.
“Damn. You look hot,” he admitted. Your cheeks heated up and you looked down shyly.
“I never realised how beautiful you are,” Sam murmured. You grinned to yourself, pleased that for the first time in your life, you had actually managed to shock the Winchester boys.
“We should probably go,” you told them, interrupting their gawking. “We wouldn’t want to be late,” you teased.
~~~~~
Thanks for reading! Please don’t repost without giving credit.
Hey dear! I just discovered this blog and I love your writing. Quick question- could I have an imagine where the reader is sick and Sammy is taking care of her? Like I'm talking major fluffiness here. If you're backed up with others I don't mind, I'd never want to put pressure on you. Have a great day ^-^
Hi. You’re so sweet! And I’m sorry for the long wait, but I hope this is what you were after!
~~~~~
The sunlight streamed in through the windows, piercing into you. You brought a hand up to shield your eyes, shifting your aching body to try to find a more comfortable position on the lumpy motel mattress beneath you. The inside of your throat felt raw, as though it had been scraped over and over with sandpaper, and your skull throbbed.
“You alright?” Sam asked, overhearing your moans.
“Shh!” you whispered fiercely, pulling the covers up to muffle his voice and protect your head from further pain. The bed dipped beside you and the covers were gently tugged off by Sam.
“What’s wrong?” he asked quietly.
“I’m sick,” you answered thickly, your blocked nose distorting the sound of your voice.
“I’ll tell you what,” Sam began, tucking the covers back around you. “I think I saw a convenience store around the corner when we got here. I’ll go pick up some stuff for you and then I’ll come take care of you. How does that sound?”
“Very good,” you mumbled. Sam smiled and kissed you on the forehead before grabbing his jacket and turning to leave the motel room. “Sammy?” He turned back around, looking at you expectantly. “Could you please close the curtains? They’re hurting my eyes.”
“Of course, sweetheart,” he answered, drawing the curtains back across the window. He left and you settled back into the covers, trying to get back to sleep. You figured that if you rested for a bit, you wouldn’t have to deal with the aches and pains of being sick. But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t fall back asleep. Eventually though, you managed to drift off into a semi-conscious state. However, this was interrupted when Sam came back into the room. Even though he had tried to be quiet, the soft thud of the door closing sent sharp spikes straight into your skull, causing you to groan in pain.
“Did I wake you?” Sam asked in concern.
“I wasn’t really asleep,” you replied, turning around so that you could see him. He sat beside you on the bed, brushing the stray strands of hair back from your sweaty face.
“You’re burning up.” He frowned, standing up and heading into the bathroom. When he returned, he held a wet face washer in his hands. Coming back over towards you, he gently dabbed it onto your face. Your eyes fluttered shut, and you leaned into the cool relief that it provided.
“So what did you buy at the shop?” you murmured.
“I got some tissues, aspirin, soup, movies and chocolate.” You cracked open one eye.
“Chocolate and movies?”
“I figured we could stay in and watch a few movies,” he explained.
“You’re staying with me?” you asked hopefully.
“Of course!” he answered. “Where else would I go?”
“Well, you could go do something else if you wanted. I don’t want you to get sick,” you told him. If he got sick because of you, the guilt would be overwhelming.
“I’ll tell you what,” Sam said, leaning in conspiratorially. “I’ll take care of you while you’re sick, and if I get sick because of you, you can take care of me and we’ll call it even. What do you think?”
You smiled up at him sleepily. “It’s a deal.”
“Alright,” he answered with a smile. “I’ll make you some soup and then we can watch the first movie.”
“Wait!” you called out as he got up to go to the small motel kitchen.
“Yeah?” he asked, turning back towards you.
“Can I have some of that chocolate first?” you asked shyly. Sam grinned, shaking his head softly before coming back to your bedside.
“Of course,” he murmured, passing you the block.
“Sammy?” you called again as he attempted to head to the kitchen for the second time. He paused, looking back at you while he waited for you to continue. “You’re the best,” you told him.
~~~~~
Thanks for reading! I’m sorry I haven’t posted over the past couple of days. I went to see Captain America: The Winter Soldier (which was epic) and then slept over at a friend’s house, so I didn’t really have a chance.
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