Supernatural Imagines

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Posts tagged with "Sam Winchester imagines"

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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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:

http://imagines-supernatural.tumblr.com/post/84313882164/hey-i-love-your-imagines-you-should-do-a-sam-imagine

~~~~~

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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Jul 8

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.

~~~~~

Thanks for reading! Please don’t repost without giving credit.

Jun 3

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!

Please don’t repost without giving credit.

Hey! I love your imagines. You should do a Sam imagine based on the song "Do I wanna know?" By Arctic Monkeys :)

Anonymous

Hi. OMIGOSH OMIGOSH OMIGOSH!!!!!!!!!!!!! I just listened to Arctic Monkeys for the first time EVER to write this AND THEY ARE PERFECT!!!!!!!!! Thank you so much for converting me!!!

Anyway, I hope you like it!

~~~~~

You lay back on the lumpy motel mattress, the bed frame groaning in protest. Your headphones were in your ears, playing a song which somehow reminded you of Sam. Everything in your life seemed stuck at the moment. The song stuck on repeat, your thoughts stuck on Sam. And you couldn’t move on, not without knowing how he felt about you. But did you really want to know? Of course, he could return your feelings, but at the same time, you ran the risk of rejection. And so you were stuck, your whole life dependent on the answer to a question you didn’t want to ask.

A jolt to the bed sent you shaking the headphones out of your ears. You looked up to find Sam standing at the foot of your bed, nudging it with his toe. “What are you doing here?” he asked. “It’s a Friday night. Why don’t you go out and do something?’

"I’m not really into all that,” you answered, laughing off his question. Little did he know that he was the reason you didn’t go out, that you were so hung up on him you could never fall for someone else. He smiled at you, and the urge to lean up and kiss him was almost overpowering. Moments like this seemed to happen so often, and each time it felt harder to stop yourself. Because you knew that it would be the easiest way to find out his feelings. He would either kiss you back, or you could just wave it off as an experiment.

He turned to go back to his laptop and you watched him walk away, a heavy weight hanging on your heart. Deep down, you wondered if you had missed your chance with Sam. After all, not that long ago, he’d shown an interest in you, and you knew that he had been open to having a relationship with you. But you had been scared, reluctant to go out with him after hearing the failed attempts of hunters to have a normal life. And now you didn’t know if his heart was still open, but you desperately hoped that there was still time before it shut, time to gather the courage to tell him how you felt.

Every so often, when you had had a bit too much to drink, you scrolled through your contacts to find his name. But each time, you had turned off your phone before dialling, putting it away before you changed the nature of your relationship dramatically, be it for better or for worse.

You knew that your crush, your obsession, was bordering on pathetic, but had to knew whether your feelings were requited. Eventually, you were likely to find yourself asking, the cover of night providing the safety to ask the question that daylight scared away. And you were just hoping that he would choose to stay, because he was the one you kept crawling back to.

~~~~~

Thanks for reading! Please don’t repost without giving credit.

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.

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.

Please don’t repost without giving credit.

I love your one shots. Could you possibly do a one shot where Sam meets the readers parents and Sam is really nervous. And the readers dad is very hard on Sam?

Anonymous

Hi. I’m glad to hear that you like my writing! I’m sorry for the wait, but here’s your request.

~~~~~

Sam parked the Impala in front of your parents’ house, his hands gripping the wheel so tightly that his knuckles had gone white. “Hey,” you murmured, reaching over to take one of his hands in your own. “It’s alright, Sam. It’s just my parents. It’s no big deal.”

Sam laughed shakily. “For you it’s no big deal. They like you. But me? I’m the guy taking away their daughter’s innocence! Your father’s probably out back loading up the shotgun!” You bit your lip, trying to hide a smile at his choice of words.

“Maybe we just won’t discuss things like that,” you told him. “And besides, my parents have no reason not to like you. You’re very sweet and smart and you take good care of me.”

Sam looked at you pointedly. “What happens when they ask what I do for a living?”

“Well…we can just tell them you’re a search and rescue volunteer!” you answered, pleased with the answer you had come up with.

“A search and rescue volunteer?” Sam asked doubtfully.

“It’s kind of true!” you insisted. “I mean, you search for hunts and then you rescue the victims. We just won’t tell them the details.”

Sam smirked. “I love the way your brain works. Come on. Let’s get this over with.”

The two of you got out of the Impala, which Dean had reluctantly agreed to let you borrow for the occasion. You opened up the rusty front gate and you and Sam strode up the white path, you keeping a hand on Sam’s arm to keep him moving. When you got up to the front porch, Sam rang the doorbell, wiping his other hand across his forehead. A few moments later, the sound of footsteps came from inside and your father opened the door, your mother by his side.

“Y/N!” your mother exclaimed, pulling you in for a hug. She pulled back, allowing your father to pull you into an embrace of his own.

“I’ve missed you guys so much!”

“I know,” your mother answered. “It’s been much too long.” She noticed Sam standing beside you. “You must be Y/N’s boyfriend,” she added politely.

“Sam Winchester,” he introduced himself, offering his hand to them. Your mother shook it but your father simply eyed it disapprovingly, leaving Sam to awkwardly pull it back down by his side.

“Why don’t you both come inside?” your mother suggested, breaking the uncomfortable silence. You lead Sam inside, taking a seat beside him on one of the small couches in the sitting room. “Lunch should be ready in about ten minutes,” your mother announced. “Just make yourself at home.” Next to you, Sam jiggled his leg up and down with nerves.

“Hey,” you whispered, putting a hand on his knee to still it. “Just relax, alright? It’s gonna be fine.” Soon enough, your mother called everyone into the dining room and you all sat down before a table full of food.

“This looks delicious, Mrs. Y/L/N,” Sam told your mother. She smiled at him.

“Well, it’s a special occasion. I wanted to go all out.” The next few minutes passed in silence, the clattering of cutlery against plates and chewing being the only sounds that filled the air.

“Sam,” your father finally said, “what do you do for a living?” Sam exchanged a glance with you, thinking back to your earlier conversation in the car when he had predicted this exact question.

“Uh, I’m a search and rescue volunteer,” he answered.

“That’s lovely!” your mother replied.

“It doesn’t exactly pay the bills though, does it?” your father added. Sam looked down uncomfortably, clearly unsure about how to answer.

“No, not really,” he responded. “But I do odd jobs here and there when I can. I just feel that it’s more important to help others.” Your father made a small noise in the back of his throat, trying to hide his approval at Sam’s reply.

The rest of lunch passed rather slowly, small talk making up the main part of the discussion. It felt good to be able to tell your parents about what you’d been doing lately, even if you had to leave out large bits of information. When lunch was over, you and Sam volunteered to clean the dishes.

Eventually, after everything had been packed away and numerous photo albums had been passed around, it was time for you and Sam to leave. You hugged each of your parents tightly, not sure when you’d next have the chance to see them.

“Take care,” your mother whispered in your ear.

“And make time for a phone call every so often,” your father told you. “Your mother and I raised you. It’s the least you can do in return.” You grinned at him.

“I will, Dad. I love you both.”

“It was nice to meet you both,” Sam said, smiling at each of your parents in turn.

“It was,” your mother smiled. “You should come by more often.”

Your father stuck out his hand, giving you and Sam cause to exchange a look of surprise. “Take good care of her.”

“I will, sir,” Sam promised, shaking his hand. You exchanged your final goodbyes, and you and Sam headed out to the car.

“I thought that went well,” you announced once you were back in the passenger seat. “They really seemed to like you.”

“You really think so?” Sam asked nervously.

You smirked. “You’re still alive, aren’t you?”

~~~~~

Thanks for reading! I wasn’t entirely happy with the ending, but I thought it was alright aside from that.

Please don’t repost without giving credit.